Three's a crowd

[hamish1024]

Storm squirmed as her butt was pinched in retaliation for her fat-ass jibe, but she said nothing; deep down, she knew the insult had been an empty one, thrown out as she tried (and failed) to downplay her role as the long-suffering stooge to Lyssa’s rather sadistic sense of fun.

There wasn’t much time for her to dwell on that embarrassment, though, before bigger threats to her dignity came rushing in. The revelation that Lyssa’s call for aid had been faked made her feel sick with anger. Yet again, she’d been far too trusting. And not for the first time, she found herself tied up and face sat in the service of what Lyssa thought was a funny practical joke.

So it was fair to say, Storm was raging as she writhed in her restraints and snarled at her treacherous partner, but the real venom was instinctively saved for Wendy, who Storm was minded to see only as a mortal enemy, given their history. The big American seemed to take the abuse in her stride, calmly (if pointedly) perusing her collection of punishment toys, before casually opining she was more sociopath than psychopath.

“Sociopath. Huh.” Storm was brought up short by the candour. The tied up, tempestuous woman hadn’t been choosing her words with much care, but Wendy’s cheerful admission of the exact kind of bitch she was gave Storm some food for thought. The brunette glanced at Lyssa, who was guilty of some inarguably sociopathic behaviour herself at times, before looking back at Wendy.

“Oh great, I’m dealing with two nutcases,” Storm sneered dismissively.

The strapped-down Scot soon lost the attitude as she watched Wendy select a pair of candles and come prowling back her way. Despite Lyssa’s bleating about them forming a badass team, as far as the helpless Storm was concerned, the current power dynamic seemed worryingly in Wendy’s favour, and she knew from bitter experience that being at this woman’s mercy was a bad place to be. She said nothing, but her lower lip quivered noticeably, and she swallowed hard as Wendy perched on her lap, resting her hands on her midriff. Although she wasn’t blindfolded right now, she was still nauseatingly unsure where the next painful indignity would come from.

Lyssa, conversely, seemed languidly content with how all this was playing out, and even gave Wendy’s thigh an appreciative little stroke as she sat down beside her on the bed. Apparently this was all within tolerance for how much suffering she could let her partner endure.

It was scant consolation to Storm, but she supposed that talking was far preferable to torment, even if Wendy’s opening remarks about her being self-righteous made her body bristle and her fists itch. God, she hated this woman. Their mutual loathing was palpable; anger flared in Storm’s gut, but she let it simmer for now. She could only thrash uselessly against her bonds anyway, and it would hammer home her helplessness.

As it happened, it was worth letting the Southerner continue, as she finally made a concession that meant something to Storm - acknowledging her victory, and admitting she was a strong opponent.

Oh, that was nice. Truly nice. Storm could sense the undercurrent of disgust that Wendy felt in saying that, giving it a ring of authenticity and making it all the sweeter for Storm to hear.

A brief flicker of smugness played across Storm’s features, but she tried to suppress it. In truth, she did respect Wendy as a wrestler, and the fact a domineering soul like her was at least flirting with the idea of admitting weaknesses, was an admirable step.

Storm ran her tongue over her teeth, weighing up these unexpected developments.

“I only seem high and mighty cos you fuckers are so god damn low,” she began defensively. “But… thank you for recognising my win, Wendy,” she continued. “For what it’s worth, that was one of the toughest matches I’ve ever had, you ran me really fucking close, and I’m not kidding myself it couldn’t easily have gone the other way.”

Storm sighed. She wasn’t at all sure she enjoyed stoking Wendy’s ego, but if the other woman was prepared to open up a little beyond her usual posturing, she felt she should return the favour.

Oh god, was this idea of an alliance actually possible? It left a bad taste in Storm’s mouth, as if the purity of their white-hot rivalry were being somehow polluted with facts and reasonableness.

Wendy was right in her face now, as pretty and as predatory as ever, yet Storm didn’t feel the need to butt her nose or spit in her eye. Yet.

The sense of being on strange, unsteady ground continued for Storm, as Wendy innocuously asked her captive how she’d felt on their first meeting.

The brunette pouted, and gave a sharp snort through her nostrils, clearly reluctant to pour forth on this particular topic. Her reticence sparked a broad grin from Lyssa, the bluenette cocking her head, visibly eager for any sordid details of an encounter she’d not been party to.

“Ugh, fine,” Storm relented. She supposed if Wendy could make an embarrassing admission, she could probably follow suit, even if it made her pulse quicken and her ego cringe.

“Truthfully? I thought we were really hitting it off. You were so fucking… charming, I guess? I was really looking forward to getting my hands on you in a spar. And yes, I think I was hoping if things went really well, we could move on to getting drinks, or maybe back to your place…”

Storm blushed a little, and glanced around. “Obviously that was before I found out your bedroom was a fucking shrine to S&M,” she added hastily.

“So yeah, looking back, I think it’s safe to say I was pretty fucking disappointed in how all that turned out,” Storm said icily as she stared upwards, holding the gaze of the woman who had utterly ruined her in a brutal ambush on her first day of LAW.

[BlackAkuma]

That was the proper definition, at least as far Wendy had studied. Which, of course, amounted to little more than watching a few psychology shows a few times. From the sound of it, though, sociopaths were more about criminal behaviors, violent outbursts, stuff like that. She was at least aware of herself to know that fit her to a tee. She tended not to think about the consequences of what she did, living for the moment, taking steps through the dark.

Probably got her into trouble more often than it worked out, being honest. Never boring, though.

She mused it all as she sat down on Storm’s plump lap and settled in for the moment, enjoying the sensation of the big woman between her legs. Lyssa was keeping uncharacteristically quiet, but that hand on her thigh told her she thought everything was going well enough. If she had some qualms with what they were saying, the bratty Brit wouldn’t hesitate to let them know.

Good, because Wendy was already making some concessions she normally wouldn’t have. She wasn’t the type to pay compliments. She was even less the type to play compliments to someone who’d beat her up and kidnapped her, however justified that might’ve been. She caught that little burst of smug satisfaction across the Scot’s face, but it didn’t stick around long enough for her to complain about it.

Wendy’s eyebrow rose when the woman not only acknowledged the complement, but gave some back, too. More than fair. They had gone to war. She honestly couldn't remember ever having that hard of a fight against anyone. She wasn’t about to say she’d never been beaten before, but most of the time, her loses were because someone outsmarted and outmanuevered her. It was rare for her to take on someone in her own class, head on, throw out the full artillery, and still get knocked back. Storm had taken everything she could do, her absolute worst, and the bitch kept coming.

It was impressive. And hot, the more she thought about it. She couldn't resist a little grind as she sat on this woman’s lap, and she spread her legs wider to sink in.

But now, came the hard part, for both of them. Wendy wasn’t sure what she’d get when she leaned and poked the woman for her feelings about the first time they met. If anything, she expected to get more from her expression than her words. Instead, she got the unvarnished truth of it, a lot more honest and softspoken than she bargained for.

For a while - she wasn’t sure how long, but enough to get marginally awkward - Wendy stared down at Storm with a cool, considering eyes, as if her brain was booting up the right words to say. They came soon enough, and when they did, even she was a little surprised by them.

”I got beat up as a kid. A lot. Like…all the goddamn time.” Even now, she had a hard time keeping the ruefulness out of her voice. ”Then I got big, and I started beating those fuckers back. And then I kept going, ‘cause I was good at it. I’ve always been real good at beating up people. It’s what I do. And I don’t make no bones about it, I like it. Fuckin’ does it for me.”

Without thinking, Wendy reached up and started up doing the ropes, working out the knots she’d so expertly put together, casually unthreading Storm. ”Buuuuuuut…I probably go to far, sometimes. Probably didn’t help that I’d just gotten ganged up on myself a few days before we met, fouled up my mood.” Wendy let that thought go with a grumble, not wanting to dwell on it too much.

She finished up after a moment, tossed the ropes away to the far sides of the room. She was still perched on the woman’s lap, in control, and her legs were bound, but it was a good deal more freedom than before. ”So, I guess what I’ll say is, I’m…I’m so…I’m sssssssss…” Fuck, this was hard to get out. ”I’m sorry.”

Wendy spat it out all at once, and had to admit, it felt better once it was out of her system. It might not have been as good as calling a full-blown truth, but it was right. A good step, in whatever this was. Plus, it made her comfortable enough to pursue certain other options. ”And about your disappointment, well…” She looked around and took in their surroundings. ”You’re in my apartment now. I got drinks. And if you still want to spar, I’m down right now.”

That was what she said, but the look in her eyes said exactly what kind of spar she was hoping for.

[hamish1024]

Storm would never admit it, but maybe Lyssa had stumbled onto a good idea by tying her up and forcing her to *talk* with her nemesis; it was strangely interesting for Storm to communicate with Wendy in ways other than violence.

Still, the Southerner was straddling her strapped-down body, grinding possessively, and fixing her with a cool, close stare.

Storm stared right back. She had no idea what dark calculations were going on behind those (admittedly very pretty) eyes, but she was damned if she was going to show any unnecessary weakness or worry. Even if, based on past experience, the end result could be extremely unpleasant for her. Cold and implacable was generally Storm’s default reaction to situations she didn’t like, so she clung to that now, scowling quietly.

What broke the silence surprised Storm, though, as Wendy began to open up on the circumstances around her backstage bullying. The stubborn Storm wasn’t immediately ready for this, and her initial response was a tactless sneer.

“We all had fights as kids…” she began dismissively.

“Pfft, Storm, seriously?” Lyssa interjected quickly. Up to now, the blue haired imp had shown little evidence she was listening to the conversation, but she had, intently. She’d been quietly delighted at her prospective partners’ progress thus far, but was suddenly aghast at Storm’s tone-deaf social skills, and smoothed things over quickly.

“You grew up in, like, idyllic fields and shit, Storm,” Lyssa chided. “It was basically the fucking Shire. You’re like a Hobbit but massive.”

“Alright, alright,” conceded Storm. The interruption had given her more time to collect her thoughts, and eventually end on a similar wavelength to Lyssa - that insulting Wendy whilst she was opening up (and utterly in control) would be spectacularly stupid. Plus, there were truths to be shared, here.

“For what it’s worth, I think I *have* been a bit too preachy,” Storm sighed. “Cos personally, I really don’t have a problem with the whole bullying thing. Kicking a bitch’s ass is fun. If she deserves it, great. If she doesn’t… well, there’s not that many innocents round here, and it’s their own fault for not fucking off while they could. This place is called LAW but we all know it’s a fucking jungle, and I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Storm smiled a tad ruefully, aware this was a strange position for a tied-up woman to take. She didn’t want Wendy to think she was on the side of the angels, and was a little embarrassed to realise that was how she might have come across. Puritan, she was not. Or, at least, trying not to be.

“I’m not angry that you’re a bitch. I’m just angry that it happened to me. Now that I think about it, maybe my reaction was a little… strong,” Storm mused. This was putting it somewhat mildly, given that she had broken in, beaten up and facesat Wendy, paraded her in a smother harness before leaving her bound and uploading the entire humiliating ordeal as an impossibly hot, high-traffic web video… but Storm wasn’t quite at the apology stage just yet, even if she wanted to get some excuses in, just like Wendy.

“I wasn’t just… mad at you,” the brunette tried to explain. “I… I came here cos the bookers in Britain were doing my head in. I’d been so close to being a headline act… but when I came up short it was like they smelled blood, and started putting me in trashy, cheap, or outright unfair matches. I mean, I lost to Lyssa, that’s how unfair things were getting.”

“Um, fuck you?” Lyssa complained good-naturedly. “But also, good point.”

“Anyway, I came to Japan for a new start, away from all that history… so when you sniffed me out as prey, fresh off the plane, it was fucking enraging,” Storm sighed. “It was like I may as well have had the word ‘victim’ tattooed across my face. It stung. THAT was what really got me. More than the beating, even.”

Storm fell quiet, breathing heavily, feeling unusually unburdened from all this talking. She remained stoic, glad that she had avoided the temptation to outright laugh at Wendy’s physical revulsion at spitting out the word “sorry”. Lyssa herself had quietly failed that quest, but luckily for the British girls, the blunette was out of Wendy’s field of vision, and so her stifled smirk went mercifully unnoticed.

Storm’s alert brown eyes widened as Wendy leant forwards, looming over her. The captive suppressed a defensive twitch. As it happened, she was right not to recoil; to her surprise, Wendy swiftly and skilfully undid the knots around her wrists. Storm wasn’t going to spoil this by asking why; she supposed it was a small reward for their mutual clearing of the air.

The Scot sighed gratefully, rolling her head and massaging her neck as she regained use of her arms. She also surreptitiously brought a hand to her nose to wipe away the residual ass sweat there, which wasn’t exactly dignified but brought Storm a fair amount of relief, letting her feel a little more human as she readied herself for whatever would be thrown at her next.

Still, she gulped a little in surprise as Wendy shifted the mood yet further, the Southerner purring about drinks and more.

Storm felt her pulse quicken, and she gave a long, measured exhale of breath as she considered her options. Not long ago, this flirtation from her foe would have riled her. Enmity with Wendy had been her default for a while now. The white-haired woman had been smart, though, by raising the memory of their first meeting; it reminded Storm that she hadn’t *always* felt this way about her, which helped the Scot move forwards from her entrenched anger.

“Oh, this is so confusing,” she spluttered, a little flustered by the fires enkindled within her. Licking her lips, she used her newfound freedom of movement to reach up, and gently caress Wendy’s cheek.

“I’ve been dreaming of that pretty face for so long…” she confessed. “Though, usually what I wanted was to punch it, to sit on it, and to make it scream…”

She paused, looking Wendy up and down, hungrily. She felt the girl grinding on her lap, and was compelled to reciprocate, pushing her own crotch upwards as best she could, considering her bound ankles.

“Hmm… might be a bit early for day drinking, thank you… wouldn’t want to do something I end up regretting later,” she smiled drily, softly moving her fingertips to the back of Wendy’s neck. Applying gentle downward pressure, she pulled Wendy’s face down towards her own, propping herself up on one elbow to meet her halfway and press her mouth to Wendy’s lips.

Despite the craziness of the circumstances, it felt right. Focusing on the kiss, Storm was reminded of an oft-hidden truth: hate and lust were by no means opposites.

[BlackAkuma]

This was surprising. But not an unpleasant surprise.

Wendy doubted that she and Storm would ever be 100% okay. They’d gone through too much, left too many scars, for them to ever truly be on the same page. No matter what, there would still be a small, lingering hate between them that wouldn’t go away. But, maybe, that wasn’t a bad thing. Neither of them was the forgive-and-forget type, and Wendy wouldn’t want any kind of relationship without some spice to it. She was married to conflict. It was her nature.

Judging from the sound of things, Storm understood that, on a deep personal level. Wendy listened as she explained her own thought processes, and she found herself nodding throughout without even thinking much about it. It made sense.

So, they were working through a lot of shit, here. Making strides. Enough that, when Wendy reached up and undid the ropes, she felt reasonably certain that Storm wouldn’t just start swinging on her. They were building a relationship here, and even the Backstage Bully knew that relationships required some trust. She had to give a little to get a little.

They were close now. Wendy slid her legs down Storm’s body, lying across her in full, letting their curves mesh together. They fit well, she noticed. Usually, she had to be more of a bottom with her size difference, her partners being too small to take a pounding from above, but that definitely wasn’t the case, here. She and Storm weren’t too far in terms of size - hell, with a little makeup and a wig, she was fairly sure they could’ve passed as sisters, maybe even twins.

It was a steamy, intimate moment, but even so, the kiss took her by surprise. Storm’s mouth was hot and tasty and full, and Wendy moaned as she reciprocated the touch. She ground her hips down, sliding their bodies against each other, savoring every little touch.

It was good. It could be better. ”Lyssa, do you mind…” She tapped her toes against the ropes around Storm’s ankles, an unspoken request for her to give the woman full freedom. As the bluenette went about that task, Wendy brought her lips to the Scot’s ear, close enough to whisper some privates words her way.

”She’s the only one coming out of this clean, ain’t she?” She nipped at Storm’s ear. ”Wanna change that?”

[hamish1024]

Storm moaned appreciatively as Wendy pressed her tongue into hers. A part of her still thought this was a bad idea (hell, that part had painted Wendy as an irredeemable witch, and never to be trusted), but it didn’t stop her from committing to the kiss, and probing Wendy’s mouth with lustful interest.

Lyssa had said something about them all wrestling as a team? Whatever, probably wouldn’t work. But fuck it, since she was here, she might as well enjoy the apparent benefits of membership of… whatever this thing was.

They were horizontal now, pressed together, Storm aware of Wendy’s weight atop her, without being overwhelmed by it. The brunette had a liking for strong women, though you wouldn’t necessarily know it from her dating history; she was used to being the more butch half of her couplings, all stooping to kiss her more feminine dalliances.

There’d be no stooping with Wendy. Their even matchup meant their mouths and crotches were now lined up nicely. Whatever grudges and hangups Storm had accumulated over this torrid afternoon, were fast being forgotten in an extremely fun bit of dry humping.

At the side of the bed, Lyssa was eyeing the scene with bemused interest. She could hardly complain at the sexy show these amazons were putting on for her, although she worried she would feel like a third wheel if this lovemaking went uninterrupted. At any rate, staying silent was not her forte.

“Wow. I know I wanted you guys to kiss and make up, I just wasn’t expecting it to be so… effective,” she quipped. Her levity masked an actual concern - she’d planned for ways to keep these women from strangling each other, not to hit it off so keenly. She felt a bit wrong-footed, and irked at Storm for not giving her the full lowdown on her first, flirtatious encounter with Wendy.

Her mood was hardly improved as Wendy beckoned for her to untie Storm’s ankles. “Okay, I guess…” she obliged with a shrug, unfastening the knots that had held her partner in place. “All a big happy team now, right?” she muttered, somewhat sourly.

Trying to make the best of it, Lyssa returned to her perch on the edge of the bed and chewed her lip thoughtfully. On paper, this should have been a phenomenal threesome-style situation - both of these women had been dominated and fucked thoroughly by her in the past, and she was confident in her ability to wrap them around her little finger should the need arise. Hell, that was basically her rationale for forming a team out of them in the first place. Two big, badass bitches at her beck and call. She should be enjoying this - so why was she feeling jealous?

Maybe Storm dumping her as a permanent girlfriend had irked her more than she was prepared to admit. She gave a small sigh as she grappled with this unexpected turn.

Storm herself was oblivious to her partner, as she delighted in the release of her ankles. She writhed happily under Wendy, enjoying the newfound ways she could move her tingling crotch against the Southerner’s own sex. Her face was flushing red, and she knew they would need to take this further soon.

Her chest fluttered as Wendy took the initiative on that front, leaning down for a conspiratorial whisper, disguised as an ear nibble, as she hinted at some payback on Lyssa.

Storm smiled broadly. Mere minutes ago, she’d have quailed at the thought of encouraging Wendy to turn on Lyssa - when Storm was strapped down, the presence of her partner was the closest thing Storm had to a safe word in the face of Wendy’s wrath.

Now, though… she’d been freed, and the power dynamic had shifted. Finally, Storm could have a say in how all this madness played out.

And fuck it, Lyssa *had* gotten away too clean, hadn’t she?

Storm’s increasingly wild eyes flitted over to her unsuspecting partner, and then up to ceiling.

“Yes…. Fucking yes!!” she called out over Wendy’s shoulder, combining her own increasing arousal with her grinning approval of the Southerner’s suggestion.

[BlackAkuma]

Wendy had to admit, the longer this went on, the more she regretted not getting more intimate with Storm when they first met. Maybe it was always going to end in violence of some sort, sure, but there was nothing to say that she couldn't have had more fun before she bit that bullet. They’d had privacy and all the time in the world, back then. Why not enjoy it? Why’d she have to skip to the rough stuff so soon.

Oh, well, missed opportunities. It wasn’t like she wasn’t making up for it now. If anything, the added hate they’d built up since then made it even better. There was something inexplicably hotter about having this sort of fun with someone who’d nearly beaten her half to death only a few days ago. She’d grown familiar with this body when they fought, but now she was experiencing it in a whole different way.

It was almost perfect. Almost perfect. There was something missing here, and it involved the little bluenette sullenly looking over them. Sure enough, Lyssa provided some running commentary. Not the least bit surprising, the woman clearly loved the sound of her own voice, and she wasn’t used to being a spectator when it came to lovemaking. Wendy had ideas on how to change that.

Judging from Storm’s response to her little suggestion, they were on the same wavelength. Lyssa clearly wanted to participate, and she was about to get her wish, just not in the way she likely envisioned.

With Storm’s legs free, the Scotswoman used her newfound freedom to pick up the pace, filling the room with the sound of the slapping hips and their grunts and their moans. Wendy chewed her lip, lost in the revelry as she sat up and put even more effort into it. She unzipped her shorts and ground down even harder, taking away another layer and improving the contact.

But she could make it better. And, as she eyed Lyssa, she knew exactly how. ”C’mere.”

Wendy reached out, snagged Lyssa by the hair, and abruptly dragged the woman over, hauling her in before she could get away. She brought that cute little head of hers down, lifted her hips up, smashed the woman’s face against Storm’s waiting pussy, and dropped her own down on top of Lyssa’s head, trapping her skull between them. Like that, she began to thrust again, driving Lyssa’s face into the Scotswoman’s moistness with every hump, sandwiching her skull between them like some sort of living sex.

She leaned forward, and her groping hands found Storm’s breasts, gripping onto them for balance as she humped away at the back of Lyssa’s skull, pounding her at a furious pace. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. The feral look in her eyes said more than enough.

[hamish1024]

Storm felt a fresh frisson of excitement after her little conspiratorial exchange with Wendy. Was giving that volatile vixen free range to abuse her partner really a smart move? Given the shit that Lyssa had pulled this afternoon, not to mention her past record of “pranks”, it was a resounding fucking ‘yes’ as far as Storm was concerned. She was delightfully eager to see what the white-haired woman had planned.

Wendy did NOT disappoint. A smart predator, the Southerner didn’t strike immediately, taking time to continue their grinding tryst, slipping her shorts down to improve the intensity of their crotch-to-crotch embrace. Storm followed suit, hurriedly shifting her leggings down her ass to reveal her taut black panties, increasingly wet from this continued contact.

Despite her doubts, Lyssa was certainly enjoying the show, and her own horny wants were making her wonder how to get involved. Licking her lips, she deliberated groping Wendy from behind, massaging her tits and kissing her neck. Musing her options as if she were in control of events, she was not remotely at all at a safe distance when Wendy decided to strike.

“Ahh!” the petite girl protested as her blue hair was grabbed. She didn’t struggle all that much; her mind had wandered onto carnal topics, and she assumed Wendy was belatedly bringing her into this threesome. She just didn’t realise how overly right she was.

“Uhh… what…” Lyssa spluttered as Wendy manoeuvred her face-down over Storm’s upturned groin, with one swift, efficient, domineering move. The bluenette wrinkled her nose in disapproval. This was a little submissive for her tastes. Was Wendy going to make her eat Storm out?

She never suspected that her fate would be far worse than that. She gave a brief cry of shock as she was shoved face-first into Storm’s pussy, but her ability to protest was quickly cut short, as Wendy straddled the back of her head, pressing her firmly into her partner’s crotch.

“Mmphh!!” Lyssa moaned as she found herself wedged between the bigger women’s pussies. With dismay, she realised she was completely stuck, her limbs tangled up between Storm and Wendy’s statuesque bodies, and her face buried.

The humiliation compounded as Wendy quickly resumed her thrusting, driving her crotch into the back of Lyssa’s head. This pressure forced the sandwiched girl’s face deeper into Storm’s pussy, her features squashed hard against the damp fabric of the brunette’s panties. In turn, the ecstatic Storm pushed upwards, grinding out her own pleasurable thrusts, utterly battering Lyssa’s face with carefree, stimulation-craving abandon.

The breathless Storm cackled in wicked approval of Wendy’s creative cruelty. The big women soon got back into a rhythm of mutual grinding, the mattress rocking with their efforts, each of them taking time to find their groove again as they got off on Lyssa’s head.

Storm moaned appreciatively as Wendy gripped her chest. The Scot took a moment to slip her short-cut top upwards, freeing her big breasts completely, enjoying the feel of Wendy’s hands on her. She might have technically been on the bottom, but she felt deliciously dominant here, as Lyssa’s muffled cries of indignation added immensely to the heated atmosphere. It went unsaid between Storm and Wendy, but both women obviously felt the little brat was long overdue a spot of punishment.

It wasn’t a quick punishment, either. Storm was in heaven, here, and minded to enjoy the sensuality, over hurrying things along. They were both humping hard, but the fact their panties were still on leant itself to a longer session than with any penatrative sex. Poor Lyssa’s face was getting battered, her features smothered and smeared with sweat and sex, but the bouncing meant there was no stifling seal, and she could catch the occasional mouthful of fetid air. All this meant that, despite her anger, pain, desperation, and worsening headache, the bluenette remained miserably conscious for all of this ordeal, albeit overwhelmed by the scale of her humiliation and helplessness. Rocked back and forth as a literal fuck-toy, the indignant Lyssa seethed, her head all but encased in a 360 degree prison of sweaty, horny, thrusting pussy, a dark hell partly of her own making.

God, Storm was damp now. She was trailing her fingers over Wendy’s curves, utterly lost in this prolonged moment. Usually, she was a relatively composed and considerate lover, and she liked making sure her partners were satisfied before fully indulging in her own wants. This didn’t seem likely today, though. Wendy was doing something sexily strange to her, and as she looked up at those increasingly intense eyes, humping Lyssa’s head ferociously, she threw caution to the wind, and embraced selfishness.

“Mmhm… fuck… yes..” she panted, pushing her pussy up harder and harder now, matching Wendy for sheer intensity. The bed creaked over and over, and Lyssa gave a distant whimper. Time seemed to slow down, and Storm admired the ferocious, wild beauty above her. Utterly evil, without a doubt… but fuck, thought Storm, evil was exciting. Moments like this made it worth tangling with terrors.

She gasped as she felt a kernel of pure bliss building within her. Holding on for as long as she could, she managed a few more fearsome thrusts as she savoured her closing, sensual moments. Poor Lyssa’s nose was now wedged firmly in her pussy, her sensitised sex could feel its contours acutely, even through the sodden fabric of her panties. Storm clenched her thighs hard, clamping down on Lyssa’s face, finally stopping her thrusts and holding everything in place as a gigantic orgasm hit her.

“AAUUGGNNHH!” she arched back into the mattress, screaming fiercely. Her body quivered and spasmed as she felt her panties flood, and she ground herself good and hard into Lyssa’s abused face.

“Fuck yes yes…” she spluttered as this continued for longer than she expected, her eyes flickering between the ceiling and Wendy. Finally, the ecstatic hit began to subside, and her eyes settled warmly on the woman above her.

She didn’t have any words, but she smiled knowingly, and ran her hands languorously over the Southerner’s body. Significantly, she didn’t unclamp her thighs, either, meaning Lyssa was still trapped face-down in wet pussy, and struggling to breathe. In these hot, happy, post-orgasm moments, Storm seemed happy to indulge her dreams of dominance over Lyssa for a few moments longer.

[BlackAkuma]

Wendy felt a little bad about tricking Lyssa this way. A little. Not enough to keep her from doing it, of course, but a little.

To the tiny hellion’s credit, she’d done a good job bringing them together and making an impossible alliance happen. It was weird to think that, just a few days ago, she would’ve happily wrung the bluenette’s neck for what she’d done to her in that dungeon, and now they were…friends? Not quite that, but damn sure closer to it than enemies. Game recognized game, and there was a lot about Lyssa she had to respect.

But that respect didn't mean Lyssa was off the hook. Oh, no.

She could tell that Lyssa didn’t quite grasp the situation at first - while she was small, she was still strong and in good shape, could’ve pulled away when Wendy snatched her if she really tried. Getting her down and against Storm’s pussy wasn’t too hard. Not surprising, that. She’d seen the way they made out back in the LAW arena, when they had their little fuck session while she was being fried. Lyssa was no stranger to that particular area of the Scotswoman’s body.

But this…this would be new. She could tell that from the muffled cries that echoed through Storm’s body, a noise that could’ve made Wendy spill all by itself. All three of them were into torture and dominance, and the only thing better than hurting someone else was getting off while you did it. This ticked so many boxes all at once - a little delayed payback for Lyssa, giving Storm the fucking she’d been denied, and Wendy coming out on top through it all

It was good, so good, and it only got better from there.

Wendys let out a wild, hoarse laugh, one that mingled surprisingly well with Storm’s Scottish drawl, and the two of them got back to pounding. Lyssa’s head made an excellent sex-toy, the back of her head fitting nicely against the Backstage Bully’s crotch, pressing deeper with every thrust. Her only regret was that she couldn't have that face against her pussy, couldn't have those lips on her flesh, but that was an honor she could give to Storm. Relationships were built on give and take, right?

”Yeah, yeah, fuck yeah-”

She sped up, trying to match Storm, as if the two of them were in a competition. Despite all the heat, there was still a part of her forming some cogent thoughts, too, and she couldn't help but think about all the little steps that had gotten her to this point. There was probably a world where she hadn't assaulted Storm, where they hadn't had their blood feud, where they’d just fucked and gone about their business from there, but she wasn’t sure that was the world she preferred. She was coming out ahead, here, strange as it was to think, and while she’d taken a fuckton of bumps along the way, all of it seemed worth it, just to get where she was now…

When Storm pressed up hard and let out an ungodly scream, Wendy knew it was. It wasn’t like any noise she’d heard the woman make before, and she’d become intimately familiar with her sounds throughout their feud. Raw, visceral, beastial, it made her shudder just to hear, and that jolt was enough to push her over the edge, next.

Wendy’s eruption was quieter, a long, drawn-out crooning as she pressed hard against the back of Lyssa’s head and ran her pussy down the length of it. The sound trailed off into a breathless whine and her eyes shot to the sky, captured in a rapturous ecstasy. For a moment, she arched her back and held her position, tight as a bow with its string drawn, and then all at once came the collapse.

She flopped down on Storm’s body and slid up, freeing Lyssa’s head, at least on her side. Her lips found Storm’s again and gave them a few slow, sloppy kisses, before she rolled off and layed beside the Scotswoman, so close to the edge of the bed that an arm and a leg dangled off. Seconds passed as she struggled to catch her breath.

”So, I’m thinking…” She ran her hands over her face and sucked in a few more lungfuls of air. ”So, I’m thinking, like…you’re Storm, she’s Lightning, I could be like…Wind? Wendy? Get it?” She chuckled. ”I dunno, kinda sounds dumb when I say it out loud. Be honest.”

[hamish1024]

Storm’s heart was still racing, and her senses swirling with endorphins, as she held her thighs around Lyssa’s head, letting Wendy continue her own lustful thrusts. The Southerner soon followed suit with an orgasm of her own, ground out aggressively on the hapless bluenette, the vibrations giving Storm a secondary wave of pleasure as she savoured the sensation of Lyssa’s face being mashed against her tingling, post-orgasmic pussy.

In short, the big girls had had some deliciously devilish fun here. Storm contentedly moaned in approval as Wendy embraced her for a final, carefree kiss, before flopping to the side of the bed. It felt nice to have the statuesque woman lounging serenely against her; in her satisfied daze, she felt she could spend a few happy hours here, enjoying the ceasefire with her enemy.

Lyssa, of course, was having none of that. She’d endured what felt like an eternity of hot and heavy face-humping, and gave a deep groan of relief as she felt Wendy’s weight finally roll off of her. To her dismay, Storm was keeping her smothered in a light head scissors, but the smaller girl no longer had her limbs entwined, and she was able to throw a few feeble but angry punches at Storm’s body.

Storm felt strangely sanguine about this. Sure, she’d joked about not doing something she’d regret, and intentionally antagonising a woman with a predilection for sadistic pranks *probably* registered somewhere on that scale, but that was a problem for another time. Besides, she felt the dynamics had changed, now she knew that Lyssa was trying to forge some kind of team; the inclusion of Wendy, however it played out, would change their group relationships to some effect.

Only mildly irritated by the smaller girl’s struggles, Storm shrugged and relaxed her thighs. Lyssa immediately scrambled backwards, pulling her head up and taking in a few desperate rasps of air, kneeling at the foot of the bed, and quivering with seething rage at what had just happened to her. She slowly rubbed her glistening, flushed, aching face, taking time to delicately check her bruised nose. Her hair was damp and messy, and she knew it wasn’t just sweat. Errant blue locks were sticking up at all angles; she looked like she had been dragged backwards through a haystack. Saying nothing, she took a moment to smooth down the more flyaway strands of hair, trying to look less ridiculous as she stared daggers down at the big women in front of her, but largely failing to do so. Her nose wrinkled as she realised how strongly she smelt of sex, infuriating her yet further since it was other people’s sex, whilst she herself remained flustered and unfulfilled.

Uncharacteristically lost for words, her brown eyes smouldering with malice, she planted her hands on her hips and glared at Storm and Wendy, waiting expectantly for one of them to explain themselves, or at least acknowledge the atrocity that had befallen her.

Storm, smirking, pointedly ignored her pouting partner, and turned to Wendy.

“Hmm.. Windy… Wind-ston… I kinda get it… doesn’t feel quite right in my mouth, somehow,” Storm mused. “If you want a weather-related nickname, how about ‘Whiteout’?” she smiled, idly stroking Wendy’s platinum hair. “Because… y’know… you’re cold and oppressive,” she teased playfully.

Lyssa, meanwhile, had just about recovered enough oxygen to try and address the elephant in the room.

“Um, excuse me!!??” she spat. “Either of you fucking bitches want to-“

She never got to finish her demand, as Storm raised a leg to dismissively nudge her off the edge of the bed. There was a muffled thump as she hit the floor.

Lyssa took a breath at this latest indignity. Normally, she was not one for regulating her behaviour or controlling her reactions, much preferring to gamble on her worst instincts. But, as much as she craved instant revenge on her insolent partners, even she could see that attacking Storm and Wendy head-on, whilst they were in loved-up cahoots, was a dreadful idea. At best, she would be outgunned and beaten. Worse, if she were unlucky it could end up cementing her as the group’s whipping girl, a role she was really hoping at least one of the others would fall into.

So, as utterly galling as it was, she would have to try and not react to the face-numbing surfeit of sweaty pussy she had just endured. Slowly, Lyssa rose to her feet. The petite woman was quivering in anger, and she was sure she could feel her partner’s mockery boring into her soul, even though Storm was saying nothing.

Anger and indignation bubbled up in Lyssa’s gut, and she couldn’t suppress it any longer. Scowling, she turned, and swept an arm violently across Wendy’s shelves, knocking a row of sex toys to the floor in a show of petulant rage.

She sighed deeply as she stared at the superficial damage. She swallowed hard, then spoke.

“Why are you so hung up on fucking weather nicknames? I always wanted a stable called ‘Black and Blue’.” She took a deep breath as she tried to collect her thoughts on this new topic. “We all look good in those colours, and it lets people know that we will beat the absolute shit out of them.” Lyssa explained. “Ideally we’d all dye our hair, but I guess we can skip that for now,” she added with a smirk, imagining how the bigger women would react to having Lyssa’s electric-blue colouring forced upon their own hair. She knew it wasn’t a serious proposition, but it was fun to wind them up.

Frankly, after the face-fucking she’d suffered, she was imagining much worse humiliation being heaped on her teammates than a dye job, but she would console herself with the small stuff for now

[BlackAkuma]

Was that the best sex Wendy ever had?

She didn’t want to say yes, but fuck if she could think of better off the top of her head. Most of the time, she either got her pleasure when she ambushed people backstage or her occasional dates, usually with smaller women in the latter case. She’d had some decent outings in Japan, but nothing to write home about. Nothing that stood out, nothing worth remembering.

But, as she lay there, breathing heavy and soaked with sweat, she felt a kind of euphoria that was miles ahead of anything else. She swore, she felt good on a spiritual level, though she was pretty sure nothing in the Bible would approve of this.

And speaking of disapproval…

Wendy looked down with a soft, amused smirk as Lyssa continued to struggle against Storm’s pussy, helplessly punching at the Scotswoman’s enveloping thighs. It made for quite a sight, and a part of her wished she had the foresight to record all this. At best, it would make a killing on OnlyFans. At worst, it would’ve been excellent fuel for cold, lonely nights when she needed a quick turn-on.

The memory alone was fine, though. She had a deep, hard chuckle when Storm finally released the woman, freeing her face and letting her back into the fresh air. As expected, Lyssa looked the worse for wear, wet and sticky and in dire need of a washcloth.

And pissed. So very, very fucking pissed. For a moment, Wendy even though she was going to do something, but the bluenette clearly saw the sense against that course of action. It would only result in her getting made into the creamy center of a Storm and Wendy sandwich. She had no doubt that Lyssa would get back at them both someday, in some way, but that day wasn’t going to be today.

After a few moments to collect herself, it was back to business. Wendy reached down, slid her fingers between Storm’s legs, and got her fingers nice and wet before she pulled away and stood up. ”I ain’t getting my hair dyed blue. Not the whole thing. Could be talked into getting some streaks, though.” She licked her fingers clean and looked back down at Storm with longing eyes, as if she were contemplating another go…

Maybe later. ”We can hash it out over dinner, I’m calling in pizza.” And with that, Wendy proceeded to stroll out of the bedroom, putting no small amount of sway in her step as she went.