Neith vs. Aspasia El-Shenawy - Python and Prey

[BlackAkuma]

Match Type Dance of the Serpents
Victory Conditions: 2 out 3 Falls, by submission only. After each fall, the winner is allowed a three-minute punishment round over the loser, where she is given free rein over her foe #without any resistance.

***

”A1. A2. A3…”

Aspasia El-Shenawy found herself wandering down LAW’s lonely hallways, making her way from door to door. She knew which door she was supposed to open, the one where her next match would be: C13. But these hallways were labyrinthine, and the lettering was weird. It seemed to change every time she turned a corner, but there was little rhyme or reason to it.

”B10. B11. B…9? What?”

It didn’t help that she had all sorts of mixed feelings about being in this match in the first place. She was still reeling from her match against Safiyah. While she was physically fine, and probably in the best shape of her life, that battle had left mental scars that were still healing. It had been a brutal, humiliating affair, and it was initially supposed to be anything but. It was her big moment, her chance to get revenge on the woman who had brutalized her in the ring, but it simply ended in her taking another beating, even worse than the one before it. To make matters worse, Safiyah didn’t seem to care in the slightest. Like she was a bug to be stepped on, then forgotten about.

”Ah, here we go. C5. C6. C7…”

It all led to putting her in a strange place - namely, this was one of the rare times in her life when she wasn’t completely up for the chance to roll around with another woman, where her heart wasn’t all for such a task. But this was her job, at the end of the day, and she had to get back into the ring, sooner or later. At least this wasn’t too intense of a match to do it with it.

”C15. Yes.”

She took a deep breath, opened the door, and was greeted by a warm blast of air, a stark contrast to the cold hallway. It wasn’t hard to see why, either, as whoever had been inside must’ve been there for a good while, enough to get the air conditioning going and heat the place properly. She stepped in and was immediately greeted by a scene out of The Mummy - the Brendan Frasier movie, not the recent trainwreck, only made watchable thanks to Sofia Boutella. The floors and walls were stoned - or something that looked close enough to it for the naked eye - and statues and idols marked every corner of the room, all around the wrestling ring. The most well-known ones: Set, Anubis, Ra, and, of course, Neith. They looked fairly heavy, too—plaster, but solid. She couldn't imagine the effort it took to haul them into this room.

If she were curious, though, she knew who to ask. Namely, two men who were hauling a large table with various implements on it around the ring. Younger men, not too much more so than herself. A blonde in good shape, and a larger brunette. Neither of them looked all that happy to be here.

It probably didn’t help that a young woman with glittering blue hair was directing them. ”Yeah, just put it…yeah, almost there, and…no, come on, Theo, you had it why are you-”

They were just getting the table in the right spot when Asp approached them, her hands stuffed deep into the pockets of her fur coat as she watched with a curious eye. The woman lit up when she saw her, gave her an approving nod, then extended her hand for the shake. ”Hey! Aspasia, right? I’m Lucy.”

”Asp is fine, please. A pleasure meeting you, Lucy.” She returned the gesture with a gentle squeeze, then put on a soft smile as the two men finished with the table and stepped away, with the larger one giving her a quick, lecherous look that he likely thought he did a good job of hiding. Asp paid it little mind and brought her attention to the table instead, inspecting the instruments. Floggers, whips, cuffs, all the expected accouterments, though they were all designed to look old and rusted, a perfect fit for the theme. Someone had done their homework.

Judging from the look of pride on Lucy’s face, it was an easy guess. ”You set all this up?”

”Bingo.” Lucy affirmed it was a thumbs up, then brought that same thumb up to point at the camera equipment at the far side of the room. Even from where she stood, Asp could tell it was a professional setup. ”I’m sort of Neith’s…assistant? Assistant. I handled all the details for this. You like?”

”I like.” She stepped away from the table and took another look around, absorbing the whole scene. Only one thing was missing. ”But where is Neith?”

At that, Lucy sheepishly rubbed her head and started to back off, moving towards her equipment. ”She’s late. Fashionably so. Just settle in, get warmed up, I’m sure it won’t be that much longer.”

Asp rose an eyebrow at that, but she wasn’t about to debate, hardly worth any effort. She was in no rush herself and could use a moment to get acclimated to the environment. She stepped back, unclasped the coat, and let it slide off her body, revealing her

She slid into the ring and promptly made her way to her corner to begin stretching, earning another round of appreciative looks as she went, this time from all three of them.

[HawtWheels]

A goddess did not rush. The labyrinthine hallways of the LAW arena were a nuisance - poorly labeled and drafty - but she refused to let them dictate her pace. Her heels clicked a rhythmic, leisurely tempo against the concrete floor as she navigated the confusing turns, checking her reflection in the darkened screen of her phone while taking a cursory glance at the time. She wasn't late; everyone else was simply waiting, as they should.

Everyone else. Usually, setting up these specialty encounters required endless email chains, feigned interest in negotiation, and the dreary logistics of renting space - tasks she loathed almost as much as cooking or cardio. That Lucy had taken the initiative to simply deliver a willing participant to her doorstep, complete with a set stage and a camera crew, was the kind of tribute a true goddess deserved. She continued to earn favor. The ease of preparation made the prospect of tonight feel less like labor and more like the easy, hedonistic pleasure she preferred when it came to making good content. She thought she had earned the two boys in their private match, but she could see Lucy becoming the more valuable to her day-to-day life.

C15 eluded her for another two minutes before she, having formed a gravitational pull that grasped every eye of every little LAW grunt that she passed, found the door and gently pushed inside, grateful to find the room warm - perhaps intentionally so.

She looked every bit the part she played, draped in a metallic gold leotard that plunged daringly low at the chest and offered nothing but a thong strip in the back to showcase her powerful curves. Gold chains woven into her dark hair clicked softly against the gold bands on her arms as she glided toward the group, her blue eyes scanning the room as if judging and indulging all at once.

"Fine work with the lighting," she noted, offering her "assistant" something akin to a grateful smile - a rare and genuine reward for competence. She offered a regal, knowing nod to Theo, but for his larger counterpart, she slowed her pace. Whatever their regrets for losing to her, she knew how to keep at least this one leashed, and Theo would likely fall in step. She reached out, letting her gold-tipped fingers trail lingeringly down his bicep, offering him a soft, conspiratorial smile. "And I appreciate the muscle. You do such good work."

She left him with the pleasure of a long, lingering rear view as she finally wheeled around to face the ring, her gaze locking onto the woman waiting inside.

Neith took a slow moment to size Aspasia up with curiosity rather than her usual judgment. The woman wasn't large. In fact, compared to Neith’s own Amazonian stature and thickness, Aspasia looked almost... compact, though in a pleasing way. Neith felt a swell of superior satisfaction; she wouldn't have to work hard to fold this woman up if the circumstances lent to it. Yet, she had to admit, Aspasia had a look. Striking, fit, aesthetically pleasing - she would look beautiful grimacing in pain.

A look of genuine satisfaction settled on Neith's face. "Aspasia," Neith purred, walking up to the ropes and leaning casually against the turnbuckle, looking her opponent in the eye, then the chest, then the thighs, unable to stop herself from seeming the predator when in a room with someone she might already deem worthy, if for no other reason than their shared heritage. "I trust my-" She nearly said servants, but she would likely have to sigh repeatedly as Theo complained if she did. "-entourage greeted you warmly?"

[BlackAkuma]

Asp learned so much about Neith the moment she stepped into the room. Before she even said a word. The reaction from her - friends? Employees? Worshippers? - said it all.

Lucy immediately perked up, and a slight, warm smile crossed her face. It reminded her of her father’s dog, one they’d owned briefly when she was a child. She wasn’t fond of dogs herself, preferring cats and her snakes, but she could see the appeal of such an animal. Namely, the way he lit up every time her father came home, how he would rush to meet him at the door. No matter how grumpy that dog could be, the sight of his master after a long day filled him with joy, and Lucy had that same energy.

The blonde, Theo, had a twitch. Annoyance, she wagered. As if Neith was some aggravation that he was learning to deal with, but still hadn't grown accustomed to. It was hard to tell in the dim lights of the room, but she was certain she saw his eyes roll.

And William? He reminded Asp of his father’s dog, as well. In the way he looked when he was blessed with a bite of steak at the dinner table.

Asp looked on as Neith addressed her people, rewarding them with praise and, for Willy, a little more. She honestly wasn’t sure what to make of it. The woman bore the name of a goddess and carried herself accordingly, moving with this divine, regal air. And those eyes…

Neith’s body was a wonder. She was a little taller than Asp, but far fuller, blessed with smooth, inviting curves, as if her body was handcrafted for temptation. It wasn’t a figure that she would often associate with fighting, but she knew better than to judge such things on looks alone. But what struck her more than anything were those eyes. Hungry eyes, dangerous eyes, sizing her up as she stood in the ring, scanning her from top to bottom. She demanded Asp’s focus as she made her way up the steps. She never lost that predatory gaze, not for an instant.

If Neith was going to look, Asp might as well give her a show. She stepped back and brought her hands behind her back to give her an unvarnished view, subtly turning her body with the same sort of seductive grace she’d mastered from her dancing routines.

”Exceptionally so. And you can call me Asp. If you wish.” She tossed her head about and let her braid whip over her shoulder, draping it over her chest like a whip. She idly stroked it as she considered her next words, then came out with them.

She didn't know Neith’s history, but the accent and her ethnicity reminded her of home. So much so that she was willing to presume a few things - namely, that they both shared a home tongue.[”Would you indulge me by speaking in our language from here on out?”] It had been so long since she spoke in Arabic, simply doing so made a chill run through her. [“It’s been a while since I’ve had the pleasure in pleasant company. Too long. I wager it’s much the same for you?”]

[HawtWheels]

Neith felt the Arabic land like a hand across bare skin, sudden and far too familiar. Hearing it here, from this woman who carried the same sun in her skin, sent a low twist of possessiveness through her stomach. Besides, Neith did not share her river - or her exotic goddesshood - with anyone who looked this good. Asp was smaller, compact, what Neith might call dancer-lean. But Neith’s tongue pressed against her teeth as she imagined trying to trap that body and finding it harder to hold than she anticipated.

She let Asp's words settle until the rest of the room drew quiet, perhaps holding their breath. Neith's... reputation for taking what she wanted and offering only restraint and pain in return could understandably make an organizer uneasy when she stopped and gazed at a similarly beautiful woman across the ring from her. Only when the mask was flawless – lazy, regal, untouchable – did she move. She slipped between the ropes slow and deliberate, gold leotard glimmering under the lights, hips twisting, and the chained decorations in her hair and along her arms jingling.

She stopped just short of touching – close enough that their heat mingled, far enough that no one could say she had reached first. Her gaze traveled unhurried over the woman's breasts and abs, down the clean line of waist, across hips built to clamp and ride, lingering on thighs that promised endurance and cruelty in equal measure. Appreciation and calculation lived side by side in the look; Neith savored the body even as she measured how much force it would take to break it.

Finally, her eyes lifted to her face. “[Of course… Asp.]” The words came low, meant only for Asp, even if no one else in the room could have understood them. Someone on the other end of one of the cameras could, no doubt.

Her eyes turned a touch predatory, a touch inviting. [“How long has it been since I heard Arabic this beautiful outside my bedroom?”] She let the compliment settle, then curved her lips into a smile sharp enough to cut. [“But let me be plain. I only speak Arabic with two kinds of people: those I plan to pleasure… and those I plan to humiliate.”]

Neith tilted her head, dark hair spilling over one golden shoulder. She felt quite glad she had gotten the extensions now - she could make a show of her hair, too. [“You look like you could be both at once. And that excites my curiosity… and raises my caution.”]

[BlackAkuma]

For reasons that she couldn't articulate at first, Asp had felt a slight unease at Neith’s presence. When the woman finally spoke, however, and gave her the pleasure of hearing her native tongue, it finally clicked - she reminded her of Safiyah. Specifically, the way she had been when they first met.

It wasn’t a perfect comparison, of course. Neith was a larger woman, more robust. There had been an air of seduction between them, but it wasn’t quite as overt as the one her future foe carried. But now, just as before, she found herself drawn to someone with whom she shared a heritage. A little slice of home, coming to her. That familiarity bred comfort.

That comfort made what Safiyah did to her even more crushing.

The memory stayed with her, even as Neith slipped into the ring and made her way over with that slow, seductive gait. Asp did her best to push the sensation down and smother it. This woman was not Safiyah. There was no reason to assume she had that same darkness in her heart. Those prejudices had no place here, not when Neith was doing her the courtesy of meeting her requests. She could enjoy this.

It took her a moment, but with a deep sigh, she found her calm and relaxed, letting her shoulders sink and her breath slow. Neith’s gaze wandered over her body, and a quick glance to the side showed she was not the only one - Lucy had set up her camera and was already rolling with her friends' help. Theo had a static camera outside of the ring, while Willy, eager, slipped onto the apron and got a better view of the proceedings with a handheld camera, and a fancy-looking one at that. The show had begun.

Neith’s words were pleasing, honeyed, soothing. Even if the audience couldn't understand a word of it, they would’ve gotten the gist from the tone alone, to say nothing of the hunger in her eyes, that predatory smile, and the magnetism between them. Asp was no actress, but she knew how to seduce in her own way. This was a game she was suited for. [”Your caution may be warranted. There’s little I can do about that. Your curiosity, however…”]

Asp turned her head to the side, a subtle shift, but an unmistakable one. It was the hint of a kiss, the opening phases of one, and she was sorely tempted to close that distance…but she resisted, instead pulling away and stepping back towards her corner. Asp did not merely walk there, however - instead, she danced. She twisted. She turned. She spun to a tune that only she could hear, showing her grace with every movement. Her braids spun about her body like a fiery serpent, whipping this way and that, always in her thrall, and her muscles moved in perfect harmony. Undulating, shifting, twisting.

To control one’s body in such a way took years of rigorous training, and Asp eagerly displayed her skill. It only lasted a few moments, and she ended the dance with her back against the pads and her braid coiled about her chest, wrapped about its mistress. [”...that, I can sate.”] Her tongue darted out like a snake’s, tasting the air and moistening her glittering red lips, and she gazed back at Neith was a daring, dangerous gleam.

[”Shall we begin, lover?”]

[HotWheels]

This specific arrangement suited Neith more than perhaps any contract she had secured within LAW thus far, largely because total control intoxicated her. While Lucy had handled the tedious labor and the creative set dressing - efforts Neith happily delegated to those eager to please - the little drummer clearly sat firmly in the goddess' corner. The promise of future, private arrangements ensured Lucy’s loyalty, but the environment itself provided a distinct home-field advantage. Aspasia had not simply stepped into a ring; she had stepped into a lair populated by Neith’s obedient servants. Neith counted on that subtle, atmospheric pressure to crack the smaller woman's composure. To stand alone against a goddess and her retinue required a mental fortitude most failed to maintain, even as Neith maintained a facade of pleasant cultural exchange.

But she watched the near-kiss fade into the air, a ghost of heat she almost leaned into if nothing else but for the viewing crowd to replay the scene over and over before Asp pulled away to... "perform." For her part, Neith did not dance. Such exertion usually bored her, and the most one could expect from her amounted to some movement in her talented hips. Yet, she respected the fluidity of Asp's motion. It would look magnificent on film, provided the focus remained correct. A quick, sharp glance toward the apron ensured Willy kept his lens trained on her own reactions, however, so Asp wouldn't steal the show from her.

The display ended against the pads, leaving Asp coiled and asking to begin. Neith found the invitation acceptable. She slowly extended her arms overhead, arching her back until her spine cracked audibly, thrusting her chest forward in a stretch designed solely to highlight the plunging neckline of her gold leotard. The movement pulled the high-cut fabric taut against her hips, a silent reminder of the power residing in her lower body.

“[Then come, little snake. Let us see if you bite as well as you dance.]”

Neith settled her weight onto her back foot, popping her hip out in a pose of casual, monumental arrogance. She refused to chase, and she didn't strike. Striking was for brutes. Instead, she extended one gold-banded arm, fingers splayed in invitation, offering Asp the opening to lock up.

[BlackAkuma]

“هل نبدأ يا حبيبي؟”

Oof. Lucy would need to bust out the translation software for this one, she could already tell.

It would’ve been better if they spoke in English, probably. The last thing people wanted to do when they were watching their wank material was reading, or anything that would even momentarily distract them from the spectacle of two exotic, athletic beauties wrestling. No big deal, though, at this point - it was too late to ask that of them, and she doubted Safiya would’ve acquiesced, anyway.

The woman seemed invested. While it was true that she had only known Safiya for a little while - though she suspected that was much longer than most - she got the sense of a woman who let her interests be known, especially when the cameras were rolling, and she seemed quite taken with Asp. There was some real hunger in those eyes, not too far from what she’d seen prowling after her when they matched up in her bedroom. Safiya was fully into Neith mode, now - dangerous, deadly, her body surging with this raw, sensual energy. Her leotard clung to her like a second skin, perfectly highlighting her curves and leaving so little to the imagination. Lucy chewed her lip as she gazed at those familiar, swelling thighs, and certain memories began to stir. She swore she could taste Neith on her tongue again.

…oh, shit, was Willy getting all of this?

She glanced over and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that the man was locked in. Unusually locked in, though it didn’t take a genius to figure out why. He was on the apron, now, getting a good view of both women as they began to close in, and while she couldn't say for sure until she got the finished project, he seemed to be catching all the best angles. It was good to see her instincts were on the money when she handed the camera over to him.

He would need that focus, too, because the two women weren’t going to stay separate for long. Asp was moving in.

She came in like her namesake, weaving left and right and left as she closed the distance. Her skill as a dancer was clear in the way she moved - each step was light, deliberate, and swift, as if she was going through the movements of a routine that she had practiced a hundred times.

That routine ended, however, when she came into contact with Neith and locked up, throwing herself into the larger woman. While the goddess was no giant, she was a good deal bigger than Asp, so this might not have seemed like the wisest of ideas…but there was no way she didn’t realize that. Judging from that devilish, widening smile on her reddened lips, she didn’t have a single worry as she tried to push forward, drawing more and more power from her lithe body in an attempt to push Neith back.

[HotWheels]

One might assume a self-proclaimed goddess acknowledged no limits, but Neith operated within a very specific, calculated reality. She understood her physical boundaries intimately. She possessed the height and the sweeping curves of an Amazon, certainly, but she lacked the brute upper-body horsepower of the steroid-fueled monsters that usually populated wrestling rings. Ugly, ugly things. Her true dominion lay in the crushing power of her lower half, the ability to trap a victim between her thighs and squeeze until the fight - and consciousness - evaporated. Traditional ring wrestling often proved... problematic for her, as it delayed the inevitable clamping of her legs, but she knew how to mitigate the risks. She simply needed to lure the prey close enough to snap the trap shut.

And she had done precisely that. As Aspasia slammed into her, Neith didn't flinch. She welcomed the impact, savoring the sudden warmth of the other woman's skin against her own. She planted her feet, heels digging into the canvas, intending to be an immovable object against Aspasia's force. She expected the smaller woman to hit a wall. Instead, Aspasia surged. The compact, dancer-lean frame hid a density Neith hadn't fully accounted for. Neith grimaced - a micro-expression she quickly smoothed over - as the smaller woman’s leverage forced her arms and shoulders upward and backward.

She couldn't hold the line with her arms alone. Her spine arched dramatically, thrusting her breasts and stomach forward in a display of titillation. The gold leotard strained against her torso, the metallic fabric pulling taut over her heaving chest, catching the studio lights perfectly. If Willy knew his job - and he certainly seemed motivated to learn - he had the perfect angle to capture the way her body gently bent and caused a swell in her cleavage.

She surrendered a single step, her bare foot sliding back on the canvas. No, no, unacceptable. She refused to be walked backward in her own temple. Neith’s eyes narrowed, the predatory glint returning. She churned her powerful legs, driving her weight forward just enough to halt Aspasia’s momentum and prove that she could overpower the dancer if she truly wished to - just so the audience and her little serv- followers would know who proved superior.

But also, why struggle? Neith abandoned the test of strength. She dropped her level in a blink, sliding her arms from the high grapple to wrap tight around Aspasia’s slender, delectable waist, her cheek pressed to the woman's chest. With a sharp exhale and a pivot of her hips, she torqued her body, using her superior height as a fulcrum to try and execute a hip toss.

[BlackAkuma]

It was tempting to come running into Neith like slamming into a wall, but Asp wasn’t crazy about that metaphor. While it might’ve been an apt way to describe the implacable nature of the woman, it was woefully inadequate in capturing the sensation of their skin touching. The heat between them.

Simply put, mashing her body up against Neith’s felt divine. Her skinnier, hardened body almost seemed to melt in the woman’s curves, as if they could swallow her whole if she wasn’t careful - and she suspected that wasn’t far from the truth. She thrusted forward, Asp moved to meet her, and the bare skin of their breasts touched and just together. Asp’s chest was nothing to scoff at, and she displayed it properly, but they were overwhelmed by the goddess’s prodigious pair.

Her breath quickened at the touch, even though she was no stranger to intimate contact. So far, Neith was proving herself worthy of the pose and prestige she presented.

Asp wouldn’t have complained if they stayed in this position for a while longer, not finding it the least bit unpleasant, but her opponent had other ideas. Power was her advantage, a fact she made abundantly clear as she held her position with ease, anchored by the pylons she called legs. But then came the motion, as she reached down, grasped Asp by the waist, and lifted her off her feet with a single, powerful motion, tossing her head over heels in the hip toss. An effective way to establish control against most opponents.

But not Asp. Instead of resisting the movement, Asp flowed with it, throwing her legs up in a powerful arc. Instead of her back, she came down on her feet and stood with her knees bent and her body almost perfectly straight, while she held onto Neith’s arm for balance - an angle most would’ve struggled to hold for even a second.

She wouldn’t stay this way for long. With her grip still on Neith’s wrist, she spun about as she slid around Neith’s flank, staying true to the deft movements of her namesake. She attempted to come up behind her with the arm still captured, as she looked to secure a firm hammerlock on the bigger woman.

[HotWheels]

While Neith no doubt knew that the viewership numbers would likely spike simply watching the two of them mash their chests against one another in this test of strength, the goddess couldn't quite convince herself to stay locked up for much longer. She had simple reasoning: her lower back, her rear, her thighs, and her upper arms all began to burn from the static effort. It simply didn't suit her. If Neith strained, if she experienced even a modicum of discomfort from her physical exertions, she wanted that effort to focus on contorting an opponent or squeezing the life out of them, not simply matching her strength for strength in a gridlock.

The hip toss provided her the perfect out. It was intimate, quick, and ideally, almost effortless. The goddess' eyes lidded with a heavy, sensual satisfaction at the sensation of sliding her arms down to hug that trim little waist and midriff tight against her own curves. From there, the mechanics operated like second nature; she needed only to twist her feet, pump her powerful legs, get her upper body involved, and start to turn the world on its axis. She could already see the next few seconds in her mind’s eye: the moment Asp hit the mat with a breathless thud, allowing Neith to simply climb on top of her to begin the real fun.

She committed to the throw, whipping her hips, but the expected crash of a body hitting the canvas never came.

Instead, Neith grimaced as her momentum lurched weirdly, meeting a resistance that shouldn't have been there. It took quite a bit of desperate, ungraceful effort for her not to fall forward onto her face - or more specifically, face-first into Asp's stomach or... thighs? As she squeezed her eyes shut and then snapped them open to figure out what had gone wrong, her gaze fell downward. She didn't see a prone back. She saw Asp's legs and feet beneath her... planted firmly on the mat.

What the fuck?

Neith almost muttered the curse aloud, her mind reeling to catch up with the physics of the situation. Before she could right herself, she realized Asp had somehow maintained a hold of one of her grasping arms. As Neith fumbled, dropping unceremoniously onto one knee to catch her balance, the smaller woman pulled that trapped arm sharply behind her back.

“Ah! Don't you-!”

The frustrated, pained cry tore from the goddess' lips as the hammerlock cinched in, torqueing her shoulder. Neith tried to simply pry the woman off, fumbling wildly with her free hand, reaching back in search of the woman's body to grab hair or a limb. But her fingers grasped at empty air; Asp stayed perfectly positioned in her blind spot. Neith hissed, her gold-painted nails clawing uselessly at the space behind her. She remained stuck there, kneeling in the center of her ring, bafflingly restrained by a woman she had intended to be sitting on by now.