Safiyah Neferet vs. Gwendolyn DuPont Bettencourt - Reclaim The Throne

[Lightman]

Safiyah’s chest heaved as if the weight of the world pressed against her ribs, each breath ragged yet defiant, her body coiled in torment and rebellion while Gwen’s aristocratic hands moulded her like clay. The heiress’s words dripped into her ear like poisoned honey, each syllable polished with the inflection of a noblewoman certain of her divine right to bend others into ornaments for her amusement. Every brush of fingers across her lips, every kneading caress upon her chest eroded her will and polished away her fire until only a jewel remained, fit to glitter within Gwen’s collection. Yet though her spine screamed under the twist, though her body trembled against the tightening grip, Safiyah’s mismatched gaze of sapphire and gold still gleamed with venom. Her lips parted against the hand silencing her to hiss between stolen breaths, “I am no bauble for your crown, Gwen... I am the fang buried deep in the flesh of queens.” Her defiance rode out on a rasp of pain, but her head snapped back in sudden rebellion, seeking to crash against her captor’s chin. Though Gwen angled just enough to evade the full brunt, the violent upheaval was enough to uncoil her. With a desperate buck of her hips, Safiyah broke free, the imperial hold slipping away as both women tumbled to the canvas in a slick sprawl.

The release did not feel like victory so much as a gasp of air after near drowning, but Safiyah embraced it all the same. Rolling onto her hands, she pushed herself upright, the sheen of sweat and oil glimmering across her bare form, azure locks tumbling wildly over her face. A venomous glare burned back at Gwen, whose seated frame radiated vexed entitlement at being denied her triumph. “You will not tame me... You will not own me.” Safiyah spat, her voice low and trembling with both exertion and fury. Yet scarcely had she steadied herself before the Azure Cobra found herself clasped once again, Gwen’s arms encircling her waist from behind with pitiless precision. The sudden crush of the waistlock squeezed the breath from her anew, her bare feet digging into the canvas as the heiress sought to wrench her backwards in a German Suplex. Safiyah’s heart thundered, body jolting against the aristocrat’s grip, her mind sharpening through the haze of exhaustion as she braced for the next cruel descent.

[killcarrion]

Whether Safiyah may have come to this realization or not, the Egyptian native's obvious inexperience conducting herself amongst the snobbish aristocracy may serve to be her ultimate undoing lest she overcome and channel the righteous indignation swirling with her subconscious before it consumes her. Gwendolyn making note of this defiant inferno when first locking heterochromatic eyes with the Azure Cobra at the beginning of the match, moreso noticeable now once they'd become inseparably entangled together in the previous submission. Safiyah's quaking anguish, sweltering warmth, and disobedient rebukes of her imperial captor through whatever breathes she could muster painted the portrait of one who has tasted subjugation and yearns to forsake becoming the shackled down subservient ever again. A rebellious aspiration resurfacing once again via Safiyah's defiant knockback and thrashing obstinance breaking the chains of her sultry imprisonment. A remarkable feat acknowledged by the seated heiress whose astonishment was succinctly circumvented by pure vexation and umbrage taken once they exchanged acrimonious eyes. Gwendolyn relying upon a wrestling maneuver she'd honed to absolute perfection throughout her acclaimed career and executed in a seamless blur of fluid motions. Picturesque in its application with the balletic blueblood balanced on her the tips of her toes afterward.

The embraced constriction around Safiyah's waist. The sublime softness of a squished bust swelled against her back. The seamless upheaval accompanied by the suplexes meteoric impact into the canvas. Culminating in the several seconds spent being dunked onto the back of Safi's head with her curvaceous backside displayed before the dancer was unlatched and released. Victorious though Gwendolyn was in her suplexing endeavors, the Affluent Aristocrat arose with snobbish discontent focused upon her Egyptian adversary. Frequent strikes deliberately aimed for her prudish and immaculate visage were more than sufficient in earning the noblewoman's ire and disdain, compounded further by the cobra's headstrong obstinance. "Tch...You overstep your bounds. By what right does a pathetic snake have in addressing a dignified highborn of mine own illustrious prestige in so callous a manner? Whether a beautified bauble or a mere pet mired in feckless obedience, tis an honor to be graced with my presence all the same~..." Gwendolyn proclaimed while approaching the downtrodden cobra, reaching down to claim her adversary’s head and begin to heft them off the canvas. Taking methodical care to ensure Safi’s panting facials caress the heiress’ creamy thigh and taut midsection as if in preparation for the slavish worship to come before asserting Safiyah into a front headlock. Commanding and in preparation the suplex to come…

[Lightman]

Safiyah’s body convulsed beneath the toll of Gwendolyn’s flawless execution, the German Suplex’s impact still reverberating up her spine in dull, merciless waves. The air was driven from her lungs in a soundless gasp, her body folding and arching in a mix of pain and disbelief. The earth beneath her seemed to shudder, the oiled sheen of her skin glinting beneath the torchlight that washed the ring in cruel gold. Her chest heaved, each inhale scraped raw, yet beneath the trembling façade of exhaustion burned something primal—an ember of indignation that refused to die no matter how often it was trampled beneath the heel of privilege. The heiress’s voice slithered into her ears, honeyed and venomous all at once, every word shaped to wound as much as to remind her of her supposed place. Pathetic snake. Filth beneath a diamond. Safiyah’s jaw clenched, her mismatched eyes burning with the fury of a desert sun. The aristocrat’s haughty declarations spilled into the air like poison, and still the Cobra’s voice rose from the mat, low and trembling with venom. “Your titles, your riches, your false crowns… you think they make you divine?” she rasped, her voice thick with both defiance and pain. “I’ve seen jewels like you buried in sand, Gwen. And I’ll be the one to bury you next.”

The heiress’s hand tightened cruelly in her azure locks, forcing her cheek to rest against Gwen’s smooth thigh, the scent of perfume and arrogance filling her senses. Safiyah’s face brushed against the woman’s taut stomach, and the contact only deepened her resolve. Her humiliation burned hotter than pain, each second beneath that smug, immaculate figure feeding her fury rather than extinguishing it. Gwendolyn’s movements were measured, her every motion deliberate - the calculated grace of someone accustomed to breaking spirits through poise alone. Safiyah, however, had lived too long under the weight of others’ control to bow again. Beneath the trembling stillness of her frame, her body coiled tight as a spring, concealing its defiance beneath feigned weakness. She could feel the noblewoman adjusting her stance, preparing to wrench her upright into further degradation. That was when Safiyah moved. Her muscles tightened and released in the same breath, the whip of her leg cutting upward in a vicious crescent, the sole of her bare foot flashing through the air with dancer’s precision and predator’s intent. Scorpion's Sting. It was fast, pure instinct - a serpent’s strike guided by fury and pride. Whether her kick would meet the heiress’s flawless face or not, the point was made in the fire behind Safiyah’s eyes. She was no trophy to be displayed, no creature to be domesticated. She was the storm rising from the sands. Untamed, unbroken, and venomous still.

[killcarrion]

Quaked shutters lingered upon the seismic conclusion of Gwendolyn's German suplex, exquisite in its impeccable execution yet simultaneously wrought with destruction. Compounded seconds tacked onto the capsized positioning as a method of instilling upon Safiyah the fathoms to which she is haplessly outmatched until she was gifted the mercy of gravity. A fanciful flourish to her resplendent ringlets as Gwendolyn arose with a sophisticated gait to her steps, a beauteous masterpiece as coveted as the dawn and just as deserving of worship. Silken syllables and vainglorious vernacular directed towards Safiyah as a deliberate tactic towards the erosion of the Egyptian's confidence, embattled as Safiyah's beleaguered physique yet nevertheless veiled behind the emblazoned inferno seared within her heterochromatic iris'. A methodical and deliberate choice of ascension taken as Safiyah's visage caressed the heiress' celestial physique as if the scintillating experience was a benevolent gift bestowed to only her most ardent of worshipers. A fortuitous fate which Gwendolyn deigns for Safiyah herself before the moonlit night is concluded, although for now securing a front headlock meant to stifle the native Egyptian before any further suplexing attempts when a scorpions tale sliced throughout the brisk night sky...

...but was succinctly ceased in mid-strike by the aristocrat's other hand. Smug superiority etched upon Gwen's unblemished face with her hand snatched upon her adversary's ankle whose entire leg quivered from the degree of strength siphoned towards this one reprisal. "...*sigh*...Hapless, yet pathetically predictable. You would think me so absent-minded to be victimized by the exact same ruse. A tactless sign of disrespect towards one's superior, and worth a certain sense of divine retribution~..." Gwendolyn pontificated in the precursor to flicking back Safi's arched leg, and concurrently kicking back for a facial creaming Scorpion Kick of her own implementation. Echoed reverberations from the strike traveling into the aether which was somehow executed with the same vicious lethality as the Azure Cobra, one whose countenance was smeared into the curved indenture of the posh noblewoman's underfoot and kneading toes. A shameful mask tasked with smothering out the rebellious fires laden within the cobra's wrathful eyes, but circumvented by the heiress whims as she eventually lowered her leg before positioning the Egyptian upon her knees. Gwendolyn undoing the headlock, but with one step over Safiyah would entwine her immaculate thighs over her adversary's cranium in a standing headscissors. Sublime, alluring, yet undeniable...

[Lightman]

The silence that followed the suplex lingered like a drawn breath, heavy with tension and the weight of two wills refusing to break. Safiyah’s chest rose and fell in laboured rhythm, her body trembling beneath the ache coursing through her spine. Every breath tasted of dust and defiance, the oiled gleam of her skin catching the pale light that fell upon the ring as though the heavens themselves watched in cruel fascination. Gwendolyn’s approach was a portrait of regal disdain, each step deliberate, the silken sway of her golden locks framing a smile too pristine to be anything but venomous. Her words, spoken like poetry mixed with poison, slid across Safiyah’s ears; taunts wrapped in aristocratic grandeur, designed to crush her pride as surely as her body. Yet the Cobra’s mismatched eyes blazed with rebellion. She could hear the crowd’s collective gasp as she gathered what strength remained, coiling her body like a spring, ready to strike; to make this noblewoman pay for every word of condescension she’d ever uttered. But her vengeance never landed; rather, it was caught before it ever got the chance. The air cracked as Gwendolyn’s heel whipped upward, a blur of flawless motion that met Safiyah’s face with a sharp, echoing crack. Her head snapped violently, the world splintering into light and sound as her body folded to her knees, hair spilling forward to veil her expression. “W-what…” Safiyah whispered through staggered, dazed breaths, disbelief lacing her voice before fading into a pained groan. The taste of salt lingered on her lips, the heat of shame and shock rising to her cheeks as the crowd gasped again. Not for the strike itself, but for the cruel perfection with which it was delivered.

Her moment of stunned silence became Gwendolyn’s opportunity to act. Gwendolyn’s hand coiled into Safiyah’s azure locks once more, guiding her with the possessive precision of a queen reclaiming her throne. The Azure Cobra was dragged upright only to be pressed downward again, this time ensnared between the silken steel of the aristocrat’s thighs. The pressure closed in immediately, the warmth of Gwen’s bare skin smothering against the sides of her head, her scent, rich perfume and the faintest hint of sweat, invading every breath. Safiyah’s muffled sounds escaped in a mix of gasps and moans, her hands braced weakly against Gwen’s hips as she struggled against the vice that held her still. “Nnngh… ah… t-tch…” she groaned, her voice fractured by effort, the disbelief still clinging to her tone even as her body trembled under the pressure. The world narrowed to the rhythm of her captor’s breath above her, the noblewoman’s poised form silhouetted in the torchlight, the embodiment of beauty and control. But even trapped, her defiance endured; her nails bit faint crescents into Gwen’s thighs as she pushed weakly, her golden and blue eyes glinting through the cascade of blue hair. “Damn you…” she rasped between shallow breaths, her words muffled and strained. “I’ll…tear that crown from your head…before you make me bow…”

[killcarrion]

First impressions were historically a luxury only bequeathed upon an individual but once. And with the proper etiquette, an aura of regal refinement, and conversational perspicacity, any lowborn ragamuffin can feasibly ingratiate themselves to those of a more sophisticated social class. However, Safiyah's own misfortune was stemming from the impression she perhaps unknowingly imbued upon Gwendolyn from the match's inception. One of rebellious defiance who scorned the very concepts of obedience and servitude. An insatiable nectar towards an individual of Gwendolyn's imperious upbringing who was now compelled to shatter Safiyah's misguided delusions that it was nothing but an esteemed honor to become subjected vassals groveling at the feet of dignified nobility. Shattered in a manner akin to the bare foot smacked into Safiyah's facials in a perfected execution of the Egyptian's own implementation, who became shambled onto her knees from perhaps the first undeniable acknowledgment of the cavernous abyss that was the disparity between their own respective skill levels~...A mirthful assumption Gwendolyn envisioned as she overheard the sputtered breathes and blathered bewilderment of her adversary getting a vindictive taste of her own medicine. Afterwards situating Safiyah onto the assuredly familiar position of being on her knees before bestowing upon her foe an invitation betwixt the flawless perfection of her satin thighs, tucked against the sublime derriere undeniably worthy of worship which Safyah was becoming thoroughly accustomed to.

Gwendolyn now compelled to straighten her posture with balletic grace as one ankle crossed the other, portraying Imperial Refinement with a serene breath taken to match the blissful smile of a majestic queen whose radiance outshines the moonlight glistened upon her porcelain skin. A sublime vision that captivated the audience, but Safiyah's own perspective would be the one coveted. Lavish scented perfume and a sweat-hued warmth accompanied the svelte entanglement of the squirming peasantry beneath her, bearing down with taut intensity but Safi would earn a wayward cast of Gwendolyn's hazel eyes downward once Safiyah's gasped disobedience graced her perked ears. "...*giggle*...You speak as if you're in any position to negotiate, not that your compliance was ever a factor to begin with. Besides, sullying my hands by making you servile seems foolhardy considering you will end up yearning for subservience of your own accord. Consider yourself fortunate to have been bestowed the pleasurable privilege~..." Gwendolyn pondered with a sultry intonation. A shimmied shuffle releasing the stifling submission so Safiyah's defiant facials were granted freedom from the sublime softness of her regal derriere, but only for a hair's breadth before taken into a front headscissors with Gwendolyn seated upon the canvas with both hands gripped upon Safiyah's ankles. An inverted Boston Crab torquing Safiyah over herself with whatever breathes salvaged would be with an imperial muff swelled against her visage.

[Lightman]

In the annals of encounters, first impressions had long been deemed a singular gift, bestowed but once upon souls crossing paths, where even the humblest wanderer might ascend social strata through polished decorum, an air of elegant poise, and keen discourse. Yet, for Safiyah, this fleeting chance had curdled into a bitter curse from the match’s dawn, her unwitting projection of unyielding rebellion and disdain for chains of submission now fuelling Gwendolyn’s aristocratic ire, a siren call to dismantle such illusions with the fervour of one born to command. The notion that servitude was no exalted privilege but a yoke to be cast off had ignited this vendetta, culminating in a vicious reprisal where Safiyah’s own artful strike was mirrored back upon her, that bare sole crashing into her features with precision, crumpling her to her knees in a stark revelation of the yawning chasm between their prowess. Amidst her ragged gasps and dazed murmurs, she tasted the acrid irony of her tactic turned tormentor, her blue locks dishevelled as she knelt, compelled to confront the flawless expanse of those satin-clad thighs enveloping her, pressing her countenance against the exalted curve of a posterior that demanded reverence, a position she had grown all too intimate with in this gruelling ballet of dominance.

As Gwendolyn adjusted with the fluidity of a prima ballerina, one bare ankle elegantly overlapping the other in a display of sovereign composure, drawing a tranquil inhale that curved her lips into a triumphant grin, her porcelain complexion aglow under the arena’s luminescence like a sovereign outshining the nocturnal gleam, Safiyah’s heterochromatic gaze absorbed this mesmerising spectacle from below, far more enthralling than the crowd’s distant awe. The opulent fragrance of perfume mingled with the heated sheen of exertion in their lithe interlock, the pressure mounting with unyielding firmness as Safiyah writhed, only to summon a defiant gasp that pierced the air, her words a spark of resistance met with a downward flicker of those hazel eyes. Yet, in that brief reprieve, a subtle shift granted her features momentary liberation from the silken throne, only for it to dissolve as she was ensnared anew in a frontal vise, Gwendolyn reclining upon the mat with palms clasping Safiyah’s ankles, twisting her into an arched contortion where each laboured breath was stifled against the imperial swell, her form folded upon itself in exquisite agony.

[killcarrion]

Predilections towards modesty were distant remnants of a bygone era, cast aside with the frivolous ease of a flicked wrist alongside whatever articles of clothing were deemed to be an encumbrance within arenas which fostered carnality alongside cruelty. Abasement to the degree Safiyah has earned would demand no less. Albeit commencing with the perfected implementation of her own tactic as a means of spiritual warfare quivering the foundation of her own self-confidence, but now compounded upon by becoming the absolute painted portrait of subservience once knelt with whatever defiant posturing rendered inarticulate by a backside seemingly carved from divinity. A seraphic immaculacy showcased by the resplendent heiress once bathed in the moonlit of the astral night sky, appreciated by all who deign to cast their eyes upon her infallible magnificence save for the unworthy servantry beneath her now tucked betwixt the crossed command of her supreme thighs. The Egyptian's hacked rebellion in the face of aristocratic supremacy becoming the predictable yet nevertheless enthralling backlash from the knelt Safiyah. A certain hushed enticement was beginning to prickle up the aristocrat's' spine once spying the feeble resistance being quashed between her balletic poise and posturing.

One plummeting realignment of the headscissor submission bringing a supple bounce to the regal posterior now settled against the canvas, and a serpentine curve to her adversaries physique now torqued over itself in a beauteous yet excruciating maneuver. Safi now hunched in a manner apropos to the nocturnal venue itself as the disobedient Egyptian was curled into an encircled full moon, one whose luminosity they themselves were bathed within. An opaque familiarity with her previous predicament perhaps enlightening Safiyah who was ascertaining exactly where she was nestling her fatigued face, the hued warmth and quivered enticement of Gwen's succulent sweet spot now thoroughly becoming Safi's entire world. "Mmm~...No need to shower me with appreciation, I merely surmised that flexibility of your caliber deserves a resplendent showcasing. And yet, it's as if the rebellious passion within your words, has a usage all the more captivating~..." Gwendolyn mused in the precursor to curling one luscious leg behind Safiyah's head that now tucked her defiant facials even moreso into her regal muff, accompanied by emphatic humps that saw the noblewoman become awash in a crimson blush. Hipful bucks eventually compelling the heiress to crane her head backward with an enraptured smile on her prim visage~...

[Lightman]

Vestiges of decorum, those quaint veils of propriety once clung to with feigned zeal, had long since unravelled in the fevered haze of such spectacles, discarded as casually as the silken scraps that once hindered the raw poetry of flesh against flesh in realms where savagery entwined with sensuality. Safiyah’s descent into utter debasement, forged from the cruel inversion of her signature stratagem that now eroded the bedrock of her resolve, painted her as the epitome of capitulation, knees grinding into the unyielding canvas while her erstwhile bravado dissolved against the ethereal perfection of a posterior sculpted by celestial decree. That divine expanse, borne by the resplendent scion whose blonde tresses cascaded like gilded moonlight, gleamed with an unblemished sanctity under the arena’s ethereal glow, a vision that ensnared every gaze save hers, the lowly supplicant now cradled in the imperious cradle of thighs crossed in sovereign decree, her bare soles flexing idly against the mat. But rebellion, that indomitable ember in Safiyah’s core, flickered anew in stifled snarls, her heterochromatic eyes, one sapphire and one aureate, flashing defiance from beneath the azure veil of her dishevelled locks, a futile uprising that stirred an insidious thrill along the victor’s spine, her golden gaze alight with the exquisite thrill of quelling such fragile insurgency amid her dancer’s elegance.

A sudden, vertiginous reconfiguration of the scissor’s embrace sent a silken ripple through the noble’s haunches as they alighted upon the floor, arching Safiyah’s form into a sinuous coil of torment and grace, her body contorted as a crescent moon bowed in nocturnal obeisance, bathed in the very luminescence that crowned her oppressor. This shadowed intimacy, etched from prior surrenders, unveiled the intimate topography she now pressed against, the flushed ardour and tremulous allure of Gwendolyn’s most intimate sanctum enveloping her weary features in a world reduced to velvet heat and quivering promise. “This…nngnn...flatters only…the mirror…you gaze into…” Safiyah rasped through gritted teeth, her voice a husky whipcrack laced with mocking velvet, even as one lithe leg hooked behind her skull, drawing her rebellious visage deeper into that sovereign cleft with insistent undulations that flushed the heiress’s cheeks in a scarlet tide. Those fervent thrusts of the hips, each a deliberate cadence of conquest, coaxed the aristocrat’s head to tilt skyward in a rapture that bared her refined countenance to the adoring throng, her enraptured grin a silent testament to the intoxicating yield she unwittingly provoked. And yet, in that suspended agony, Safiyah’s mismatched stare burned unquenched, a sapphire-gold tempest vowing retribution amid the exquisite unravelling.

[killcarrion]

Auteurs slavish towards their craft who stretch the bounds of their own philosophical peripheries all share the fates of sculptor's chained to marble slabs yearning to bestow upon the world the perceptible poetry whispered within the infinitival canals of one's own imagination. Dauntless pursuers of paradisiac perfection and empyrean beauty devoting lifespans to immortalizing entrancing physicality the likes of which were unfurling underneath tonight's transcendent moonlight. The compliant yielding of Safiyah's nubile physique epitomizing her once steadfast will of rebellion now acquiescing to the seraphic whims of the celestial body weaving a tapestry of craven indulgence. Gwendolyn appreciating the tiniest of pleasurable idiosyncrasies that made all of Safiyah's strife and hostile conflict all the more worthwhile given it was subdued within the luscious entrapment of her sublime sanctuary. A cradle of heaven encompassed betwixt the milken curvature of divine thighs by an Imperial Subjugator whittling down rebellious fires with yearning attrition, quelling the uncivilized peasantry into a state of harmonious obedience. Whichever eye, whether they be azure or auric, unified underneath one act of hedonistic prurience. A newfound rapturous elation accompanying the vermilion hue to Gwendolyn's pristine countenance, all alongside blissful hums from the delectable debauchery of a forbidden fruit once thoroughly denied, but now exquisitely relished.

Gwendolyn lost amidst the throes of salacity as she crafted exquisite artistry via the contorted pliancy of her Nubian adversary but awakened from her euphoric dreamscape once overhearing Safiyah's disgruntled musings. Straightening her head back and casting a pretentious smirk down at the foe whom she was incapable of seeing eye to eye with given those cerulean locks were all that was perceptible. "...*sigh*...For one who possesses such unique optical duality, it appears you nevertheless lack the vision necessary to quantify the breadth of this salacious artistry. Yonder physique is the one being flattered, flaunted, and feasted upon by revelers bearing witness to a Queen conquered and humbled by righteous decree from an Elysian Goddess reclaiming her throne~..." Mused pontification stated with dignified poise towards the peasantry whose face was swathed into the imperialists cherished flower with tremulations quivering, however this was merely in the preamble to the noblewoman liberating Safiyah from the lunar curvature upon her spinal cord by releasing her ankles. A seamless pivot situating Safiyah onto her back with Gwen's crossed legs behind her head, but facials now serving as the aforementioned throne for the hallowed derriere sheathed against her. Ravishing posturing taken as Gwen cast her head back with eyes closed towards the heavenly light above, but with the caressed kneading of Safi's squished bust with dainty, entrancing fingers~...