The Spoils of War

[hamish1024]

What might seem reckless, brave, or simply foolhardy didn’t really register as such for Lyssa – when this adrenaline junkie wanted something, she went for it. And she really wanted something from this night. Wendy represented a phenomenal prize, be it torture toy or… something more. The smaller wrestler would never shy away from shooting her shot – consequences could wait, and sort themselves out later. So it barely even occurred to her that she should back off from this big, angry bitch, or hold off on trying to put her back in her box by force.

Also, if Wendy escaped out from under her nose, she’d never hear the end of it from Storm.

So, Lyssa closed the gap with ruthless aggression. She thought her plan was a solid one – her time-honoured practice of targeting a weak spot, with a running kick to the gut.

Would have gone better if she were wearing boots, though.

Lyssa mused on her mistake in the fraction of a second it took the furious, but very much still functioning, Wendy to lurch back from the blow, and launch herself at Lyssa’s midriff.

There was no time to dodge, and the bluenette grunted as the bigger wrestler slammed shoulder-first into her gut, knocking her clean off her feet. She groaned again as her ass hit the floor, grunting louder this time, the landing really sucking for Lyssa as the impact rattled through her body. Wendy might be weary, but the damage her weight advantage could wreak was as punishing as ever.

Lyssa was a scrappy little fighter, though, and didn’t lose her shit the second stuff started to hurt. Keeping her composure, she’d had the foresight to tuck her knees in as she fell. As she found herself squished uncomfortably beneath the falling Wendy, Lyssa would instinctively try to fire those knees up, hoping to topple Wendy forwards before she could get settled down and sat on Lyssa – something the Brit was understandably keen to avoid.

[BlackAkuma]

Wendy wasn’t exactly known for her blazing speed at the best of times, but as she sprung into action against Lyssa, she could safely say she’d never felt more sluggish. Everything was delayed. Everything was weak. It was a struggle just to stand on her two feet, fuck fighting, as if all her body wanted to do was collapse and deal with all the trauma she’d endured. She was weak, tired, and she had that nasty taste in her mouth that you got when you were dehydrated. She was done.

The only thing she had going for her was rage. A shit ton of rage. That was enough to push her through for the moment, but there was no telling how long it would last. How long could hate sustain something? She was about to find out.

Thankfully, nothing about getting beat up made Wendy any lighter - she was still about a half-person heavier than Lyssa, and she was fully aware of it as she turned her body into a human battering ram. It was a wild ploy, but it worked, as she managed to catch the bluenette off guard and bring her down to the floor with her on top, exactly where the Backstage Bully wanted to be.

A shame she didn’t get to enjoy it for long, then. She was just reaching out, hands going for Lyssa’s throat, when she felt a pair of bony knees at her chest. She scrambled, trying to resist the momentum, but it was too late - she went head over heels, tumbling forward, her back crashing into the nearby wall. The impact was solid enough to knock some of the instruments off and send them clattering around her - ball gags, whips, dildos, raining from the sky.

A wooden clatter caught Wendy’s attention, though, and it gave her a sharp reminder: this wasn’t a match, this was a fight, and she didn’t have to play fair. She flopped over to her chest and grabbed the wooden paddle that had fallen near her head, grasping it tight with a possessive grip. Solid design, good frame, LAW hadn't cheapened out on the hardware. This would do.

With a guttural grunt, Wendy pushed her way up and rushed towards Lyssa with her weapon in hand, lunging her way and swinging it like a baseball bat at her head. All she needed was one hit, just one hit…

[hamish1024]

Lyssa gave another grunt, this time of relief, as her gambit paid off and Wendy was sent sailing overhead. The cacophony that followed confirmed the blue-haired girl’s suspicions, that they were close enough to the wall to make a monkey flip a lot more painful. Wendy’s smash into the shelving certainly sounded bad, from where Lyssa was laying. Good.

It took her a few more moments before she could see for herself, though. Although Lyssa was by far the fresher wrestler here, she’d still been bearhugged and barrelled into by a much bulkier woman, the painful after-effects of which were shaving seconds off her response times. As she flipped over and pushed herself back up, a faint wince flashed across her features – but that soon turned into a grin, as she saw how Wendy had landed uncomfortably among a pile of sex toys.

The sight was too comical for the smart-mouthed Lyssa to resist. “Ooh, breaking out the good stuff, huh?” she smirked as she got to her feet. Her smile froze, though, as the seasoned Wendy thought nothing of scooping up a spanking paddle to repurpose as a weapon.

“Fuck,” Lyssa gasped, as she tried to dodge the unexpected blow.

She didn’t entirely succeed, either. Whipping her head back, Lyssa managed to avoid a full-on braining by the butt-slapping weapon, but the arc of attack still caught her face in a glancing blow. The crack of paddle on flesh rang out, and Lyssa felt a sharp wave of pain as she was effectively bitch-slapped in a heavy-duty manner. The hit imparted a hot red glow on her cheek (albeit not the kind of cheek the paddle had been designed for).

Seething, but still standing, Lyssa lunged for Wendy’s weapon arm with both hands, trying to bend her attacker’s wrist back and force her to drop the makeshift weapon before she suffered a worse hit.

[BlackAkuma]

That mouth. That mouth. Wendy was getting sick to death of this bitch and her little taunts. ”I swear to god, I’m gonna fuckin’ ram this down your throat.”

‘This’ would be the wooden paddle she currently had a white-knuckle grip on. While it was never made to be used as a concussion creator, it had all the potential for it - solid finish, strong design, nice and thick. Lyssa wasn’t anywhere near as big and tough as her partner, either, and Wendy was willing to bet that one good hit would drop her like a deck of cards.

Key problem, though - she needed to hit her, and the little bitch was fast. Wendy swung out with a ponderous, plodding blow, and only managed to catch her on the cheek - not much, but enough to make the Brit weary. She was trying to hide it, but she’d made enough women panic to know when one was doing it under the surface.

Wendy was more than eager to give it another shot, though. She wound back and prepared for the lunge, but what she didn’t expect was for Lyssa to close the distance, rushing it before she could complete the arc. The crazy bitch grabbed her by the arm, trying to take control away from her.

Stupid, stupid, stupid - or, it would’ve been, if Wendy was at her best. She was working on fumes, and Lyssa had just enough strength to wrangle control away from her, making the paddle drop to the side.

Weapon lost, one point for Lyssa. But Wendy would make her pay for that little victory - she reeled back and swung, throwing a wild right hook at the torturess’ face.

[hamish1024]

Lyssa gave a quick gasp of triumph as she won the wrist-twisting battle, and forced Wendy to drop her weapon. It turned out to be somewhat of a Pyrrhic victory, though. Lyssa’s plan to disarm her opponent had overlooked one key point – Wendy was still extremely dangerous when unarmed, and now Lyssa was up-close and personal with the bigger wrestler.

Lyssa realised her error as Wendy swung, rewarding her effort with a hard punch to the face. The Southerner’s strength was much-depleted, but Lyssa still felt a huge, painful shock from the thudding blow, Wendy’s anger making up for any shortfall in muscle. It struck the blue-haired woman on the same side as the paddle had, exacerbating the impact, sending waves of pain through Lyssa’s jaw, and scrambling her senses.

Reeling, Lyssa staggered back, clutching her face. Even as she did so, she felt her balance going, and would drop gracelessly onto her ass. The petite woman groaned as she hit the floor, an uncomfortable landing amid the scattered sex toys.

Lyssa’s thoughts were not particularly ordered right now, as her skull pounded painfully, but the Brit was dismayed at how forcefully Terminator-like Wendy was in her resolve not to be on the receiving end again. This did not bode well for the wannabe little domme.

[BlackAkuma]

All the dozens, maybe hundreds of people Wendy had punched in the face over the years, and none of them, not a single one, were more satisfying than Lyssa. She had been wanting to nail this bitch with a good shot since minute one, and she swore the sensation was almost enough to force an orgasm out of her.

Granted, it wasn’t her Sunday best, but it did the trick. Lyssa staggered back, clearly feeling it. Wendy would’ve loved to give her another shot straight after, but her balance was still off from the first one, needing a moment to catch herself after all the strain.

It took her a second, but she did go down, flat on her ass. Helpless, but not as helpless as Wendy would’ve liked her. Easy fix, though.

Wendy lurched her way over, rained her foot, and proceeded to stomp Lyssa on the chest, planted her back on the floor with her on top, pinning her with her weight. She took in deep breaths, panting fast, but chuckles were already slipping through. ”What’s wrong, bitch?” She spat off to the side. ”Run out of jokes?”

[hamish1024]

Lyssa’s head lolled as she tried to collect herself on the floor. Ugh, this is frustrating, she mused in self-pity as her senses swirled. Why couldn’t Wendy understand how counterproductive she was being? Why-

“Ugnhhh!!” Lyssa spluttered, louder this time, as Wendy nailed her in the chest with a vicious downward STOMP. The winding impact would have been trouble enough, but the big Southerner put her weight into it and kept it there, grinding down on Lyssa for a painful pin. The lack of boots barely helped her plight; the pressure on her chest was still significant. The blue-haired girl squirmed in position, pushing feebly at her enemy’s ankle but unable to dislodge it.

It wasn’t the harshest of moves to endure; the chest stamp made breathing difficult, but by no means impossible. Instead, Lyssa found the biggest impact was psychological – it really stung her outsized ego to be stuck in such a classically submissive position, looking up at her onetime victim, who was now massively towering over her. Fuck, the bitch was getting cocky enough to quip at her. Lyssa’s brow furrowed as her thoughts darkened.

“Nghhh…. No… no joke…. I’m going to pay you back fucking tenfold for this. Seriously,” she hissed through gritted teeth, trying to psych herself up for the upcoming high-stakes scrap.

[BlackAkuma]

In the back of Wendy’s mind, warning bells were sounding, a consistent klaxon telling her to get the fuck out of there, toot suite. She had gotten Lyssa down, but she was still vulnerable, still weak. The little bitch was tricky, there was no telling what she might pull out of that cute ass of hers. To say nothing of the very real threat that Thunder could waltz back into the room at any moment.

But damn, did it feel good to have Lyssa under her foot, finally. She’d been wanting it for so long, so long, and now…

Well. She had to indulge. Just wasn’t in her nature not to.

”Oh, scary.” She wiggled her fingers at Lyssa. ”I’m shaking. You see me shaking, right?”

Wendy clicked her tongue as she looked Lyssa over, considering her next move. There were a lot of things - a lot - she wanted to do to the troll, but right now, one thing stuck out in her mind more than anything. A receipt from their first meeting.

”Funny you should mention payback…” Wendy licked her lips, lifted her foot off of Lyssa’s chest, and proceeded to drop her fullweight on the woman’s face, covering her face in hot, sweaty pussy. She gripped the bitch’s hair, pulled her in tight, and proceeded to buck against her face, humping her with a feverish fury, grinding and thrusting and pumping and riding her like a bucking bronco.

At the same time, she reached back and dug her claws into Lyssa’s breast. ”Fuckin’ bite me and I swear I’ll rip your tits off.”

[BlackAkuma]

In the back of Wendy’s mind, warning bells were sounding, a consistent klaxon telling her to get the fuck out of there, toot suite. She had gotten Lyssa down, but she was still vulnerable, still weak. The little bitch was tricky, there was no telling what she might pull out of that cute ass of hers. To say nothing of the very real threat that Thunder could waltz back into the room at any moment.

But damn, did it feel good to have Lyssa under her foot, finally. She’d been wanting it for so long, so long, and now…

Well. She had to indulge. Just wasn’t in her nature not to.

”Oh, scary.” She wiggled her fingers at Lyssa. ”I’m shaking. You see me shaking, right?”

Wendy clicked her tongue as she looked Lyssa over, considering her next move. There were a lot of things - a lot - she wanted to do to the troll, but right now, one thing stuck out in her mind more than anything. A receipt from their first meeting.

”Funny you should mention payback…” Wendy licked her lips, lifted her foot off of Lyssa’s chest, and proceeded to drop her fullweight on the woman’s face, covering her face in hot, sweaty pussy. She gripped the bitch’s hair, pulled her in tight, and proceeded to buck against her face, humping her with a feverish fury, grinding and thrusting and pumping and riding her like a bucking bronco.

At the same time, she reached back and dug her claws into Lyssa’s breast. ”Fuckin’ bite me and I swear I’ll rip your tits off.”

[hamish1024]

Flailing beneath her opponent’s foot, Lyssa was braced for all sorts of unpleasantness. Would Wendy try and bring the dungeon full of weapons and toys to bear? Use her size to shoot for some spine-breaking slams? Or simply let out her frustrations via the medium of clenched fists?

As it happened, she would never have guessed what was in store for her next – an absolute avalanche of pussy.

“Wha-mmpphnhgggghhh!!” the wide-eyed Lyssa exclaimed, quickly cut off as Wendy suddenly dropped her fulsome body down on top of her, heavily straddling her face. The impact rocked Lyssa, numbing her nose as Wendy slammed crotch-first into it, whilst the Southerner’s ass did a good job of flattening the floored girl’s chest.

It was instantly overwhelming. The smaller, skinnier Lyssa found herself engulfed by the schoolgirl pin, and rendered utterly unable to move by her opponent’s thick thighs and heavy-set hips. It would’ve been a bad enough predicament at the best of times, but Wendy moved quickly to really put the ‘face’ in ‘facesit’, and aggressively force her crotch into Lyssa’s features.

Lyssa’s brown eyes flared angrily as the rest of her face disappeared between Wendy’s thighs, smothered in the Southerner’s bare, sweaty sex. The floored girl felt a sharp sting of humiliation in her gut, as Wendy’s thrusting quickly ground the taste of pussy into her mouth, and its scent into her nostrils. Head flanked by her opponent’s thighs, and her blue hair held roughly to yank her deeper and deeper in, there was absolutely no escape from the frenzied thrusting and grinding.

It was as painful as it was degrading – her opponent was heavy, and her thrusts were mercilessly hard. It was a fairly fetid prison, too – Wendy had been through a gruelling evening, and her stale sweat was being reheated in the frenzied facesit. Not just sweat – Lyssa was unwillingly treated to the scent of Wendy’s stale juices, where the Bully had previously had her way with Storm in exactly the same fashion.

As far as the battle for dominance went, this was devastating for Lyssa, and she had scant few ways of opposing the ordeal. She fully believed Wendy’s threats not to bite, as the Southerner threateningly grasped at her tit. Lyssa wasn’t sure she could retaliate like that anyway, such was the speed and force at which Wendy was thrusting on her.

The only saving grace in this galling turn of events was that it wasn’t quite (yet) a smother – Lyssa couldn’t speak, but the grinding was giving enough movement to let air down to her poor flustered face, letting her snatch a few hot and undignified gasps.

Maybe she could try and ride this out. As she squirmed, Lyssa’s lithe limbs would surreptitiously snake out along the dungeon floor, subtly searching for anything nearby that could somehow reverse this.