Fallen Goddess - Mary and Neith

[Darius 2.0]

Though the act of crushing and smothering the strength out of another person using her unstoppable strength was orgasmic for Mary, she could never decide what she liked more; the act of dominating someone, or their reaction to it. The blonde loved seeing the faces of those she wrapped her arms and legs around when they realize they cannot move and there is no place to go. They struggle and squirm with all their might to no avail, then frustration sets in, then the panic comes and soon they begin to beg and plead and squeal. The wrestlers usually tapped out, as if that would save them from Mary's voracious appetite. Instead, the same thing would happen over and over and over again, until mary had her fill and her victim's were hollowed out shells of their former selves.

Safiya's rage at her predicament was not new to Mary. The big blonde had conquered many victims, and she found the loudest ones usually the most prideful. That pride normally evaporated when they had been knocked out enough time by a woman who's strength eclipsed their own, accepting their new reality for what it was. The Egyptian was not quite there yet, having raged and screamed throughout Mary's grapevine hold until he could no longer. It was only Mary's transition to a new hold that would save her from the relief of unconsciousness, with her wrapping her tree trunk thighs around Safiya's waist for a terribly powerful bodyscissor!

Now laying on her side, Mary would hug Safiya's head to her chest, sinking her deep into her massive cleavage, a place the Egyptian was no doubt growing familiar with! At the same time, Mary's legs would coil themselves around Safiya's arms and waist, squeezing tightly together, compressing the session wrestler between her thick thighs. Any air the the Egyptian still had in her lungs, the blonde would seek to squeeze it out of her, gradually growing the pressure of the scissor hold while maintaining the smother.

"Shhhhhh, it' okay," Mary would whisper down to her trapped victim, and would gradually stroke Safiya's hair with her hand whilst holding her there. It might have looked like a very intimate moment between two lovers curled up in bed on another day. "No need to fight. Just let go. Just let yourself slip away...." With a smile on her beautiful face, Mary would keep her victim in her deadly dual holds until Safiya finally drifted off to sleep, cuddling her close to her as she did. "There we go. Just like that...."

[HotWheels]

The world had narrowed to three unbearable things: heat, pressure, and the suffocating weight of Mary’s body.

Safiya’s mind was a furnace of white-hot fury that had nowhere to go. Every time she tried to claw it into something useful, into a scream that would shatter glass, into a twist that would break free, the fire simply slammed against the iron walls of Mary’s limbs and rebounded back into her own skull. She hated this woman. Hated her with a venom that felt ancient, biblical, the kind of hatred that would have seen cities salted and rivers poisoned. And yet the hatred was useless; it burned and burned and changed nothing.

Mary’s breasts were a prison of soft, sweat-slick flesh pressed over Safiya’s face, sealing out light and air. The heat there was obscene: skin hotter than any Cairo summer noon, slick with both their perspiration. Each desperate inhale dragged that humid sweetness deeper, until she felt drunk on it, dizzy and sick. Her own gold leotard had ridden up somewhere in the struggle; the fabric bunched under her breasts, leaving most of her body bare, skin glued to skin. Every tiny shift rubbed them together in slow, wet friction that should have been erotic and instead felt like being slowly steamed alive.

But worse than the heat was the pressure.

The squeeze came in waves: a slow, deliberate tightening that compressed ribs, folded organs, forced the air from Safiya’s lungs in a soundless wheeze. Her arms were pinned uselessly against her own ass, wrists trapped between her back and Mary’s shin, fingers twitching like dying spiders. She could feel her spine bowing under the force, vertebrae creaking, every breath a battle against a vice that only grew tighter when she dared to inhale. The pain was everywhere at once: fire in her ribs, lightning in her shoulders, a deep, grinding ache in her hips that promised tomorrow she would not walk without remembering this pain.

And threaded through all of it, insidious and humiliating, was the intimacy. Mary’s hand stroked her hair with the tenderness of a lover, fingers combing through sweat-damp strands as if they were curled up watching television instead of one woman systematically dismantling the other.

Safiya wanted to bite, to scream, to sink teeth into the soft underside of that breast and tear until blood filled her mouth. Instead her body betrayed her with a pathetic, muffled whimper that vibrated uselessly against Mary’s skin. She felt herself slipping, vision tunneling to black at the edges, the pain and lack of air finally dragging her down into the dark she had been fighting for what felt like hours.

When consciousness flickered back, it was worse.

She was on her side now, curled fetal inside the cage of Mary’s body, cheek pressed to the slick valley between those merciless breasts. The scissor around her waist had loosened just enough to let a single ragged breath in, one cruel sip of oxygen, before it tightened again, slow and deliberate, as if Mary were savoring the way Safiya’s body jerked involuntarily at the fresh crush. Her legs kicked once, weakly, heels scraping uselessly against the mat. Another whimper escaped her - small, broken, nothing like the goddess who had walked into this room expecting to be worshipped.

Mary’s voice came again, closer now, lips brushing the shell of Safiya’s ear through damp hair.

Safiya’s eyes stung with furious, helpless tears she refused to let fall. She was Neith - goddess and queen of the mats - and she was being cradled like a child and crushed like a toy. The humiliation tasted worse than the sweat on her tongue.

She tried one last time to summon the rage, to turn it into strength, into anything that would let her bite or twist or fight. All that came was another pitiful, muffled moan against Mary’s skin and the slow, inexorable tightening of those thighs that brought the darkness back until she fell limp as a relief rather than a thing to fear.

[Darius 2.0]

When it came to choosing her 'playmates', Mary was not particularly picky. It just depended on what her needs were at the time. Sometimes, she liked a small and scrawny victim she could overwhelm with her size. Other times, she liked big and muscular gals who's powerful bodies she could turn to mush with her relentless squeezes. Mary also had a particular fondness for crushing milfs, but regrettably those encounters were rare and in-between. Then there were women like Safiya who's bodies most resembled Mary's own. Cuddling with them was like cuddling an overgrown teddy bear. Their soft, curvy forms made for the coziest of squeeze victims.

"There we go," Mary whispered in her soothing yet condescending way, her hand idly stroking the hair of her fading victim. Safiya's movements were slowing to a crawl, her kicking legs now merely gliding slowly across the sheets of the bed they were on. "That's it. Just let go...." A few more seconds later, Mary felt Neith go completely slack in her grasp, passing out in her chest as yet another victim of her pillowy embrace. The rush the blonde felt as the last bit of fight drained out of Safiya could not be described in words, so Mary only let out a satisfied moan when it happened.

Smiling happily, Mary would unwind all the limbs that had been binding the Egyptian, loosening the scissor around her waist and removing her arms from around her head. She would allow the limp form of Safiya to roll off of her and onto the bed, leaving the buxom woman face up on her back. Mary looked over her prize with a sparkle in her emerald eyes. Even after having been put through the gauntlet, Safiya was a beauty to behold. Much more peaceful looking than she been while she was shouting obscenities at Mary.

As Safiya slumbered on her back, Mary would swing herself on top of the woman so that she was now straddling her. Shifting herself up ward, Mary would place her generous bottom atop Safiya's chest and her legs on either side of her head, allowing her to press her plump thighs up against Safiya's cheeks in a tight schoolgirl pin! Safiya's world would once again be surrounded by Mary's supple flesh, her her thighs framing the woman's head and her crotch pressed right against Safiya's chin, ensuring the woman could only look up at Mary looming over her. "Wake up, sleepyhead," Mary would giggle, and would give Safiya's forehead a few light taps, trying to rouse the so-called goddess awake!

[HotWheels]

Consciousness didn't return to Safiya quickly or comfortably.

For a terrifying second, she floated in a void where she didn’t know her own name, let alone where she found herself. She knew only the sensation of being buried alive. Her lungs expanded, desperate for a gulp of cool air, but they hit a wall of soft, immovable resistance before they could even fill halfway. A shallow, pathetic wheeze rattled in her throat. Her arms felt like lead, and when she instinctively tried to lift them to push the weight away, they wouldn't move. They seemed pinned flat, useless against the mattress.

Then came the taps on her forehead, condescending little shocks that rebooted her brain.

Safiya’s eyes fluttered open, struggling to focus through the haze of oxygen deprivation. A silhouette filled her vision first, but one by one, features revealed themselves to her confused, blue eyes. Walls of pale, thick thighs rose up like pillars on either side of her vision, obscuring the rest of the room. The heat struck her senses soon after, and she quickly realized that heat came from flesh closing in all around her face.

Reality snapped back into place with the violence of a whip crack.

The memory of the squeeze, the darkness, the absolute dismantling of her dignity rushed back, colliding with the present horror. This bitch had made her into a piece of furniture while she lay unconscious. The woman had knocked her unconscious. Her, Neith, the goddess.

Panic, sharp and jagged, spiked in her chest. Safiya tried to jerk her head back, but Mary's lower body swallowed her whole. She tried to buck her hips, to twist, to do something, but Mary’s generous bottom remained parked squarely on her sternum, pinning Safiya’s ribs with such casual, crushing weight that the movement amounted to nothing more than a pathetic squirm. Her breasts felt completely flattened beneath the weight, adding to her misery as they stretched as if trying to remain inflated.

She looked up, past the daunting landscape of the woman's lap, to see Mary smiling down at her.

Rage tried to flare up - the indignation of a queen touched by a peasant - but it drowned under the sheer helplessness of her position and the fear that she could fall under again. She couldn't breathe enough to scream. She couldn't move enough to fight.

"G-Get..." The command died in her throat, strangled by the weight on her chest. She wheezed, her voice thin and reedy, devoid of all its usual power. "I'll... sue... you..."

She writhed, her hands twitching uselessly at her sides, her legs kicking weakly at the air, but she was trapped. The pressure on her cheeks, the scent of Mary filling her nose, the crushing weight on her lungs - she tried to bury her internal surrender under more defiant words.

"I... I said..." She gasped, her chin trembling against the fabric of Mary's panties. "You... you can't... this isn't..."

It sounded like a plea, not an order.

[Darius 2.0]

It was always a thrill watching someone come back from the slumber that Mary had forced upon them, no matter how many times she witnessed it. First the fluttering eyelids, revealing the unmistakable confusion in their eyes as they struggled to remember where they were or what had happened. Next was the panic when the memories came rushing back, remembering the giant blonde that had squeezed them between her massive thighs, or smothered them in her bountiful bosom before it had all gone black. Finally, came the fear and despair as they viewed that same blonde standing over them with devious smile, and they realized their nightmare was not yet done.

Mary watched all this happen to Neith as she emerged from her unconsciousness, her restricting schoolgirl pin giving her a front row seat. With Mary cheekily squishing the Egyptian's cheeks between her thighs, the blonde had perfectly framed her victim's face, allowing her to look down on the range of emotions that washed over her upon waking. The poor thing looked completely exhausted, barely able to mutter another threat in a voice that sounded strained and tiny. Her expression was still one of rage, but now there was the unmistakable look of fear mixed in there as well. Also perhaps....acceptance?

This was something else Mary had become quite used to. For every victim of hers, there was a also a fierce resistance. They fought and they thrashed, threatening violence or legal repercussions and blah blah blah. That kind of rhetoric usually died down around the fourth or fifth time Mary knocked them out. At that point, the victim realized that no amount of threats or struggling would stop Mary from knocking them out over and over again, and that the only thing they could do is accept their fate and hope Mary would get her fill quickly.

Safiya wasn't quite there yet, seemingly teetering just on the edge of total defeat. Perhaps an extra push would be all it would take?

"Of course I can," Mary would say as a matter of fact, her emerald eyes sparkling as she smiled down at her prey. "You're smaller and weaker than I am. That means I get to do whatever I want with you and there's nothing you can do to stop me..." Mary would then bounce lightly upon Safiyah's chest a single time, as if to sink a final nail into the coffin of the Egyptian's pride.

It was after that Mary would look contemplative, tapping her finger against her chin idly. "You know, I remember on the website I hired you from, you call yourself 'Goddess' Neith. You don't really look like a goddess right now, do you though?" With that, Mary would give curvy Egyptian a few condescending pats on the head while smiling sweetly. "In fact....maybe you should be calling me goddess instead. Seems like the title might be better suited for me!"

Mary would then cross her arms, making her already enormous chest look just a little bit bigger as she sneered down at Safiya. "Say it," she commanded. "Beg for mercy from 'Goddess Mary'..."

[HotWheels]

The fury surged up once more like bile, hearing this monstrous woman verbalize her dominance. The declaration scraped against the rawest parts of Safiya's ego - the parts that demanded the world bend to her whim, not the other way around. Hearing Mary claim ownership, claiming she could do whatever she wanted to Safiya’s body, bypassed logic entirely. It ignored the survival instinct that screamed for her to negotiate or play dead. Instead, it poured gasoline into her soul, forcing strength into her enfeebled muscles.

The anger contorted her face, twisting her features into a mask of pure hatred - until Mary bounced.

That massive, pillowy weight slammed down, compressing her sternum into her spine. The air left Safiya's lungs in a sharp, pained squeak, effectively choking the scream before it could leave her throat. But the silence didn't mean submission. Behind Mary's back, Safiya’s legs kicked and thrashed frantically, heels drumming uselessly against the mattress. She felt every square inch of that sweaty, thick rear end smothering her heart, and worse, her breasts.

"Get... off!" she wheezed, the command fracturing under the pressure. "Get off or I swear I'll-"

She didn't finish the threat. Instead, she tried to weaponize her own lower body. She threw her legs upward, straining to curl them over her own chest, hoping to snag the blonde’s neck in a desperate counter-scissor. But her flexibility hit its limit long before her feet cleared the horizon of Mary’s titanic frame. She couldn't even see her own toes past the wall of flesh burying her. Undeterred, when Mary’s hand descended to pat her head like a pet, Safiya snapped her teeth and swiped her claws at the offending limb. Her reach fell woefully short, her hand slapping uselessly against Mary's hips and thighs.

And then came the audacity. The absolute, sacrilegious gall. Goddess Mary?

The suggestion tore through Safiya’s composure. The anger grew, expanding in her chest until it hurt more than the lack of oxygen. She looked up at that smiling, condescending face and unleashed the venom, heedless of the consequences.

"You... delusional... cow!" Safiya spat the words. "You look... like a... dinosaur, not a goddess!"

The lack of air made her vision swim, gray spots dancing in her peripheral vision as the weight bore down on her diaphragm. Every word cost her precious oxygen she didn't have, bringing her closer to the black edge of unconsciousness she had just escaped. But the rage refused to let her stop.

"Sitting on... people... doesn't make you... a goddess!" She gasped, her chest burning, the darkness encroaching again, but she refused to stop. "It makes you... heavy! You're... nothing... but an overweight... piece of..."

Her voice trailed off into a strangled wheeze, her eyes rolling back slightly, but the snarl remained fixed on her lips. She would not beg. Anger won out over self-preservation; she would use her last conscious breath to hate.

[Darius 2.0]

There was a moment, a brief moment, where Mary thought that Safiya would actually give in to her demands. Looking down at the exhausted and reddening face of the Egyptian between her legs, one wouldn't be able to recognize her as the same woman who had swept into the room with such enchanting confidence. Mary had shattered the illusions of many a wrestler in much the same way, tearing down their carefully curated images, leaving them in their most vulnerable states, completely at her mercy.

Figuring that Neith was close to giving in, Mary opted to give her a little push, wanting to see if the woman had truly reached the threshold of total submission, and what better way to do that than to force the 'Goddess' to admit that Mary was a Goddess herself? So the blonde made her demand and looked down at Safiya expectantly with that warm smile of hers, waiting to see what her vitim might do.

As it turned out, Safiya still had quite a bit of fight left in her! The Egyptian not only refused to give into Mary's demand, but also hurled a bevy of insults at her as well! It was like new life had been breathed into the proud woman, and what little air remained in Neith's lungs was used to berate Mary mercilessly! However, it couldn't last under the crushing weight that was Mary's big body, and soon, Safiya collapsed back to the bed after saying her piece, leaving the air heavy with her last bit of hatred.

And Mary's response to all this? Why, the smile never left the blonde's face this whole time! If anything, it seemed to grow a bit wider! Safiya's insults had washed off Mary like water off a duck's back! It was nothing she hadn't heard before, after all. The big blonde had enjoyed watching plenty of 'last stands' from the wrestlers she crushed. She wasn't expecting it from Safiya though, thinking the Egyptian was all too eager for the pain and humiliation to end. But pride is a hard vice to kick, it seemed!

"Well, that was adorable," Mary giggled as she loomed over Neith like the giantess she was. "But it's not what I asked of you, Ms. Safiya. So I'm afraid I'm going to have to teach you a lesson ..."

With that last ominous message to Safiya, Mary would suddenly lift her legs up from around the Egyptian's head and swing around on top of her body so that she now faced her feet! Leaning forward, Mary's legs would come up behind her to scoop Safiya's head off the bed, pulling it deep between her thighs! Like two anacondas, Mary's legs would tighten around her victim, which would end up pulling Safiya deep between her butt cheeks. Locking her legs together, Mary would complete the reverse figure four, and from there, would apply a nice, long squeeeeeeeeze.

Spoiler

[HotWheels]

Damn her, she wouldn't move.

And the goddess didn't have the air to scream anymore even though she tried.

Safiya lay there, her chest heaving with the effort of breathing, her vision still swimming with gray spots at the edges. She had expended the last dregs of her oxygen reserves on that verbal assault, and now she paid the price. But Mary just stayed there, sitting on her chest like a monument to Safiya's failure. That smile - that infuriating, warm, condescending smile - never wavered. Not even a flicker of anger crossed the blonde's face at the insults. The cow comment. The dinosaur jab. Nothing. It all just rolled off her like water, and somehow that made it worse.

The fury in Safiya's chest burned hotter than the oxygen deprivation. This woman - this oversized, smug, insufferable woman - had the audacity to look amused her insults.

And then called her adorable. The word detonated in Safiya's mind, but before she could even summon the thoughts needed to tell Mary where she could shove the word adorable, Mary doubled down. Tripled down. Safiya's hands curled into claws against the mattress, her entire body coiling with impotent rage. If she could just breathe properly, if she could just get this weight off her chest, she would show this blonde cow exactly what happened to people who patronized her.

The specific images that she began to create in her mind - Mary's eyes panicking in a scissorhold until Safiya rendered her unconscious and then held on for another ten minutes - cut off as the weight lifted suddenly from Safiya's chest. For one glorious second she gasped in precious air, her vision beginning to clear. A roar of rage slowly welled in her chest. But before she could capitalize on the reprieve, before she could even think about rolling away or launching a counterattack, Mary moved, rotating atop her. Safiya felt the weight redistribute and tried to find something she could target. Her nails shot out to strike Mary in the back as a start.

Then understanding hit as she watched Mary's movements - movements that reminded her of her own - and with it, the first cold spike of genuine fear pierced through the armor of her rage.

"You... if you d- dare..."

Her body finally responded, adrenaline overriding exhaustion. She managed to lift her hands, managed to push weakly against Mary's hips as the blonde turned to face her feet, but it was like trying to move two of herself. Her movements came too late, too slow, too weak. Her head lifted off the bed - not by her own will, but scooped up by those massive thighs that closed around her skull like a vice. For a split second, Safiya saw the ceiling, then the top of Mary's head, and then-

"Nuh... NOOOOAAAH-"

Everything disappeared into soft, suffocating flesh.

Her face pressed deep between Mary's ass cheeks, the fabric of the blonde's swimsuit the only barrier between Safiya's nose and something far more intimate. The thighs locked around her head, one leg folding over the other in that dreaded configuration, and Safiya's entire world reduced to heat, pressure, and the overwhelming scent of another woman's body.

Not this. Anything but this. A memory hit her with almost as much force as the humiliating, too-heated claustrophobia.

Six years ago. One of her first production videos after transitioning from private sessions. A woman named Helga - not quite Mary's size, but close enough. Close enough that when she'd locked Safiya in this exact hold, when those tree-trunk thighs had closed around her head and buried her face exactly like this, Safiya had felt something she'd sworn she'd never feel again after that day.

Fear.

Real, primal, animal fear. The kind that bypassed the brain entirely and went straight to the nervous system, made a person look like pathetic, helpless fool. She'd thrashed then too, kicked and clawed and screamed into flesh that muffled every sound. And when the darkness finally took her, when consciousness slipped away like water through fingers, she'd woken up humiliated, defeated, and absolutely furious. She'd destroyed Helga in the rematch. Made the woman tap five times in three minutes, reduced her to a sobbing mess. But that first loss, that first time feeling truly helpless...

It returned as the squeeze began.

"MMMMPH!"

The sound tore from Safiya's throat, muffled immediately by the massive ass smothering her face. Mary's thighs contracted with a pressure that made the earlier body scissors feel like a gentle hug. Safiya felt her skull compress, felt the bones of her jaw creak under the strain. Her hands shot up instinctively, clawing at the thick thighs encasing her head, nails digging into soft flesh that refused to give even a millimeter. The woman's thick rear swallowed her whole face entirely, trapping everything from the eyebrows down until Safiya was a head of hair and a set of straining veins in the forehead.

She couldn't... couldn't breathe-

What little air she'd managed to gasp in before Mary repositioned was already gone, used up in that first muffled scream. Now there was nothing. Just the heat of Mary's body, the overwhelming pressure, and the slowly building burn in her lungs that would soon become agony. The scent of the blonde's sweat, mixed with something else - something intimate and degrading - filled what little space existed around Safiya's face. She couldn't go anywhere. The only parts of Safiya that could move were her legs and hands, and they accomplished nothing except broadcasting her desperation to anyone watching.

Anyone watching. The camera. It was still recording. People were seeing Safiya Ashour, the Goddess Neith, reduced to a thrashing, panicked woman with her face buried in another woman's ass. Not dominating. Not in control. Not even putting up a dignified resistance. Just... smothered. Helpless.