Safiyah Neferet vs. The Morrigan - Goddesses of War

[BlackAkuma]

Yeah, definitely should’ve padded the floor. Big oversight on Morrigan’s part, but in her defense, how could she have known the match would progress to a point where she was getting launched out of the ring by…whatever Safiyah called that move she’d just done. Some things, you just couldn't prepare for.

The referee hovered close by, clearly worried, but the concern wasn’t necessary - Morrigan wasn’t finished just yet, only in a bad spot. She was still far from defeated, and she suspected that Safiyah realized that, as she was already moving in to continue her assault - at least, she sounded close. From the sound of it, she was waiting for something, as if taking a moment to deliberate and decide. But why…

The Morrigan’s answer came in the form of a soft hum. The wand..

The Kinklab Neon Wand™, to be precise, mixing vibrations with low-level electricity for an intense experience. One of Morrigan’s favorite toys, especially with smaller female clients who needed a deft touch. She hadn't been on the receiving end too much, but she’d been on the giving end enough to know how effective it could be in the right hands. Were Safiyah’s hands the right ones?

Early signs showed…yes.

The Morrigan was sitting back up when the wand came between her legs, and the burst of sheer pleasure was enough to put her back down again, leaving her squirming as the machine did its work. Her back arched, her eyes shut tight, and an unbidden moan tore its way out of her mouth, before she shut it tight and clenched her teeth. ”Fuck…” Her hips thrusted upwards, meeting the touch of their own accord. ”Oh, fuck.”

[Lightman]

The stone floor was her ally now, unyielding beneath Morrigan’s weight, keeping the giant reined in while she herself moved like water above her. Bare soles whispered over the ground as she closed the distance, every step deliberate, silent, controlled. She had dropped her foe with a strike, but it was not enough. Precision demanded follow-through.

The thud of Morrigan’s fall still echoed in the chamber, but Safiyah paid it no mind. Noise was meaningless. What mattered was what came next, and her bare feet carried her with quiet certainty to the wall where the weapons lay. Her hand chose the wand without hesitation, sleek and dangerous in its simplicity, a tool honed for control rather than spectacle. She curled her fingers around it, testing its weight, feeling the faint vibration purr into her palm. This would do.

She dropped low beside Morrigan, knees bent, posture as measured as a hunter closing on a wounded beast. Morrigan was stirring, defiance still lingering, but Safiyah pressed the wand forward with the patience of one who knew resistance was useless. The hum cut through the silence a heartbeat before contact, a warning drowned by what followed.

The instant the head of the wand slid between Morrigan’s thighs, the powerhouse’s body convulsed, her hips arching skyward as if dragged by unseen strings. Safiyah did not recoil. She anchored herself, grounding her weight through her bare soles into the stone, wrist steady as she held the wand in place. Her expression remained unreadable, eyes narrowed, lips pressed thin, treating the moment with the same composure as she would a joint lock or chokehold.

Methodically, she adjusted her grip, tilting the angle so that every tremor of the wand pressed deeper, burrowing into Morrigan’s crotch. Her free hand braced across the woman’s stomach, keeping her pinned down each time she tried to writhe away. The boots scuffed against the floor, legs jerking wildly, but Safiyah’s lean frame did not falter. Her movements were exact, economical, like a surgeon with a blade or a grappler applying pressure at just the right nerve.

The current of sensation ripped through Morrigan again, sharper now, tearing a sound from her throat that betrayed her strength. Safiyah’s eyes flickered, catching the unbidden surrender written across her opponent’s face. Still, she said nothing until she shifted the wand once more, circling the head in slow arcs, unhurried, merciless in her precision.

Her voice, when it came, was stripped of flourish. Low, icy, final. “Give in.”

Then silence again, save for the unrelenting hum of the wand and the ragged breath of the giant beneath her, caught in a hold that no power could easily break.

[BlackAkuma]

The amusing, albeit slightly ironic, thing was that Morrigan had initially been against buying this model. She hadn't been a big fan of the fancy toys when she first came across Sabine, preferring things with more of a bite to them. Her partner was the one who turned her onto the more subtle aspects of domination, showing her just how effective a little tease and denial could be when properly applied, even showing her what it was like to suffer under such tactics.

And here she was, melting under the same tactics she once decried. Life had a funny way of boomeranging on you, sometimes.

It helped that Safiyah was no stranger to this sort of treatment, too. While she had no idea what her experiences were, it was clear to Morrigan that she’d done this or something damned close to it before, showing all the obvious tells. There was a precision to her movements, an exactness that you didn’t see from amateurs. She kept Morrigan on the cusp, always on the verge of exploding. She had a way of measuring her reactions, giving her just the right amount of pleasure.

It was maddening. It was wild. It was mesmerizing. But enough to make her submit? That demand got a chuckle out of her, even as the moans threatened to overwhelm her voice. ”Give in?” She chewed her lip and closed her eyes, as another wave of pleasure ran through her body. ”You’re good, real good, but ain’t nobody that good, love.”

The Morrigan reached over and brought her hand to Safiyah’s ass, giving it a tight, possessive squeeze. ”Try harder.”

[Lightman]

Her grip tightened as she lowered the wand, dragging it with cold precision over Morrigan’s most sensitive point, each stroke measured and unhurried. Anchoring herself with a palm pressed to the giant’s chest, toes splayed against the stone, she worked in steady circles, pausing only to lift the hum away and deny release before pressing it back with surgical cruelty. Every moan drawn from Morrigan’s clenched teeth was calculated, a response Safiyah shaped with patience and restraint, her control absolute.

The squeeze against her skin was bold, defiant, a reminder that Morrigan had no intention of breaking easily. Safiyah’s expression did not change. She had seen that sort of bravado before, the clinging pride of women who thought they could resist forever. Pride cracked like bone under enough pressure.

“Hmph.”

Without a word, she drew the wand back, letting the hum fall away from Morrigan’s soaked flesh. Safiyah rose to her full height, barefoot on stone, her frame poised with an unhurried precision. She set her sole to Morrigan’s stomach, pressing down until the air shifted from her lungs, then stepped forward with steady weight.

Her bare foot pressed into hard muscle and soft flesh alike as she walked up Morrigan’s body, her balance unwavering. Each step would be deliberate, a trampling march of dominance, until her toes pressed into the swell of Morrigan’s chest. She pivoted slowly, turning with a gymnast’s care until she stood facing the opposite direction. The crowding pressure of her weight would no doubt linger; a cruel pause stretched across Morrigan’s ribcage.

Then Safiyah lowered herself, knees bending, hips sinking until she’d settled her bare skin firmly across Morrigan’s face. Her weight pinned the giant beneath her in silence, cutting off her smirk and her words in one suffocating press. Still cold, still composed, Safiyah reached back with the wand, sliding it once more between Morrigan’s thighs.

The hum returned, cruel and exact, flooding her opponent’s core again with merciless waves. The soundless command was clear enough: submission was not asked for. It is forced.

[BlackAkuma]

Damn, this woman was milking the cold fish act hard. The Morrigan’s touch was nothing close to gentle - a rough, groping squeeze, the sort that had gotten her ejected out of a couple of clubs in her lifetime, shameless and lewd. How did Safiyah react? She didn’t. She kept that same placid look, void of all emotion, bereft of feeling. It was like wrestling the world’s sexist Terminator.

The Morrigan received nothing beyond a grunt as far as verbal responses went, but it seemed she convinced the Egyptian that her current path was futile. The wand came away, leaving her to writhe in bliss, as her opponent stood tall and loomed over her, casting a long shadow. She had just begun to rise again when a soft foot came down on her stomach, pinning her back to the floor.

Safiyah wasn’t heavy, not even close - if she wasn’t a lightweight, she was definitely close to it. But her weight was enough to keep Morrigan pinned for the moment, as she used her body as a carpet, gracefully stepping over her, deftly balanced with each step.

It brought out moans at first, then groans as the woman pivoted and brought all her weight into a single spot, driving her heel into her chest. She would not have to endure that for long, however, as Safiyah descended and dominated her vision, eclipsing the ceiling lights.

The Morrigan was ready. She breathed deeply and filled her lungs, just as Safiyah’s flesh engulfed her and she settled in for a long. Sure enough, the buzzing began once more, and a familiar sensation came over her nethers - Safiyah was working her magic with the wand again, and her body was reacting accordingly. Clever minx.

But that didn’t mean Morrigan was without her own options. Instead of fighting the facesit, she reached up, gripped her hips, and drove Safiyah’s hips down hard, trying to push her further up the face. Not far, just enough that her tongue could slither around the barely-there outfit she’d chosen to wear, hoping to taste something soft and sensitive, looking to give her opponent a natural taste of the mechanical pleasure she was giving.

[Lightman]

Safiyah had felt the squeeze earlier. Crude, greedy, a touch that reached deeper than flesh and pressed against memories she preferred buried. It was not gentleness that unsettled her but the familiarity of that roughness, stirring echoes of nights she had worked hard to sever from herself. She buried it beneath her still mask, refusing to give Morrigan the satisfaction of a reaction. Yet when the giant’s tongue slipped free and tasted her, those same feelings stirred again, rising unbidden, gnawing at the edges of the cold resolve she wore like armour.

Her thighs twitched despite her control, betraying the tension she fought to keep locked away. The wand buzzed mercilessly below; the tongue teased above, and for a fleeting second she could feel the walls she had built begin to crack. Breath caught sharply in her throat. It angered her more than it pleased her.

With a low hiss, she leaned forward, her fingers weaving through Morrigan’s thick hair and clenching tight. She wrenched the woman’s head upward, dragging it closer to her own body, only to let her legs slip round either side of her skull. In one fluid movement, she clamped down, thighs biting into flesh, the sinew in her legs hard as coiled steel.

The pressure built quickly. Where the wand gave Morrigan pleasure, the squeeze of her legs layered pain over it, turning every moan into something caught between delight and desperation. Safiyah’s bare feet planted firm against the stone, her muscles flexing as she poured steady force into the hold, methodical and unyielding. She said nothing, only tightened inch by inch, letting silence speak where words were useless.

For Safiyah, this was control reclaimed. If the tongue sought to unearth weakness, the scissor grip reminded Morrigan that her hunger comes at a cost. Safiyah’s body attempted to remain cold and composed, yet her grip told the story clearly: pleasure would be given, but on her terms. And she would never again allow herself to be taken without a price.

[BlackAkuma]

Oh, Morrigan felt that twitch. Safiyah was doing her best to hide her feelings, keeping them locked away in a cold shell - why, she had no clue. Maybe it was all an act to intimidate, trying to play the part of a cruel Egyptian Queen, or maybe it all stemmed from some deep trauma, psychological shite that she didn’t have the patience to sift through. Didn’t matter, at the end of the day.

Whatever the case, a properly applied tongue could work wonders, and Morrigan’s had more than a little experience in that matter. She’d driven paramours insane with it before, and she had no doubt she could melt whatever icy barriers Safiyah had erected, if given the chance.

If.

Instead of accepting the pleasure, however, Safiyah had crueler intentions in mind. The Morrigan hissed as her head was seized and pulled upwards, with the woman’s legs coming around her skull in a deadly vise. Slim, strong thighs that bit into neck, turning her breaths into hoarse wheezes - she hadn't been able to breathe much in the facesit, and this wasn’t an improvement. The licking ceased and the struggles began, as Morrigan pulled at the torturous thighs, desperate for relief.

To make matters worse - or better - the lack of oxygen was destroying whatever resistance she had. With her body in survival mode, it responded to the wand on its own, thrusting against it, hips bucking and rocking and grinding. She was always going to pop, sure, but the moment was coming sooner rather than later.

The Morrigan shuddered as an orgasm ran through her, juices running down her leg as she went into a spastic fit. Her body seized up, tight as a drum, then relaxed and deflated, her struggles weakening with the lack of oxygen. Caught in the bliss, her eyes began to fade and the world grew darker, pulling her along to unconsciousness unless Safiyah freed her…

[Lightman]

Safiyah had felt it the moment Morrigan’s tongue worked against her, the telltale ripple through her muscles, the betrayal of her own body. She despised that weakness, the simple truth that flesh would always answer flesh, no matter how sternly the mind commanded otherwise. Pleasure was not foreign to her; she knew it well, knew how to wield it like a knife, yet when it was turned back upon her, it carried memories she would rather never resurface. It was infuriating that her thighs clenched tighter, not simply from intent to crush but from the sharp tremors licking up her spine. Morrigan’s tongue was skilled, surprisingly so for one so brutish, and Safiyah found herself almost cursing the thought that perhaps this was the secret to her strength in her line of work. She could be soft enough to disarm, then hard enough to destroy.

She would not allow herself to be undone like this. The tightening of her grip around Morrigan’s skull became as much an act of self-defence as attack, her thighs pouring power into the squeeze until the giant’s muffled gasps grew shallow. She watched calmly as Morrigan clawed at her legs, struggling to breathe, hips jerking wildly beneath the torment of the wand. The contrast of suffocation and pleasure blurred together, and Safiyah knew the woman was reaching her peak, her body betraying her as surely as Safiyah’s own had tried to do.

When Morrigan’s shuddering climax overtook her and her body slackened in its exhaustion, Safiyah felt the weakening beneath her thighs and knew she was seconds from unconsciousness. She released with cold deliberation, lifting herself so that her weight no longer smothered Morrigan’s face. The giant sucked air greedily, and Safiyah, ever unyielding, leaned close and spoke in a tone flat as stone. “I’ll knock you out when I want to.”

She rose to her feet with measured grace, barefoot steps silent as she left the trembling woman below her. She placed the wand deliberately upon Morrigan’s crotch, its hum a constant reminder of who held control now. Then she crossed to the wall, her eyes scanning the array until she selected a length of bondage rope. It felt coarse in her palms, promising restraint, and she turned back with the quiet assurance of one who knew her path.

Kneeling beside Morrigan, Safiyah’s expression remained void, a mask that revealed nothing of her earlier conflict. She pressed the rope against her thigh, uncoiling it with slow precision. “Up.” Safiyah ordered, her voice calm and clipped. “On your knees. I know you can still fight.”

[BlackAkuma]

That was a damned good orgasm. Best she’d had in a while? Maybe. The Morrigan was definitely having a tough time remembering one that came close. The only competition she could recall off the top of her head was when she had Kasey over, and that was an entirely different scenario. Safiyah had managed to get this kind of reaction out of her with only a little domination and a single toy.

Was this woman a dominatrix, too? Because, if not, she was missing her calling in life. Shame for that talent to go to waste.

The asphyxiation only made the explosion that much more intense, enhancing Morrigan’s sensations as the woman pulled away from her and stood up. She was breathing deep as Safiyah dismounted and left her on the floor, her body still caught in the afterglow, and she’d scarcely moved by the time she returned with a reasonable length of rope.

Safiyah wasn’t wrong, Morrigan still had more than enough energy to put up a good fight, but accessing it wasn’t that easy at the moment, what with her being cum-drunk and all. She groaned and sat up, rolling to her knees so she could face off with the woman once more.

”Damned right, I can still fight.” She sagged forward and forced a rough smirk out, gleaming through the wild hairs across her face. ”Let me show you.”

The Morrigan’s next move was a simple one - she leaned back, then threw her entire body forward all at once, attempting to ram her skull against Safiyah’s with a vicious, violent headbutt, skull against skull.

[Lightman]

Safiyah watched the aftershocks roll through Morrigan’s body, the twitch of muscle, the shallow breaths dragged between lingering moans. Even with all her size and strength, the right touch, a single toy, and a measured hand could undo the giant, making her soft. Safiyah’s face betrayed none of her thoughts, but she registered the result keenly. She did not need to say it aloud; the evidence was plain on the floor before her.

The rope hung loose in her hands as Morrigan dragged herself upright, sweat clinging to her frame. Safiyah noted the groan, the tremble, the smirk, trying to mask exhaustion. The declaration of defiance earned no visible reaction. She had heard words like that many times before, and they had never altered her approach.

When Morrigan lunged, skull pitched forward in a crude attempt to crack bone against bone, Safiyah’s wrist snapped into motion. The rope unfurled, loop slipping over Morrigan’s extended arm as she shifted to the side, bare feet gliding across the mat with quiet balance. The headbutt skimmed close, air brushing against her cheek, but her counter was already in play. She yanked hard, trying to pull the arm off-line, twisting the surrounding cord, turning momentum against her foe.

If she succeeded in cinching the loop, she would flow into the motion, stepping past the bulk and tugging sharply to drag Morrigan forward, aiming to off-balance her further. It was not strength against strength, but control through placement, a leash turned into a snare. Safiyah’s bare toes gripped and shifted, steadying her weight for the contest about to follow.