The Book of Lucia, Chapter III - Sister Lucia (c) vs. Madeline Christiansen for the LAW Hentai Championshp

[BlackAkuma]

Sister Lucia was starting to truly loathe this woman. Granted, there was no world in which Madelin - an unashamed heathen, a proud temptress, a seducer of wayward souls - would be friends with one such as her. But she suspected that, even if she had not been chosen for this divine task, and the English Rose hadn't stood athwart her path, she would’ve still found the whore detestible.

It was those eyes. Yes, she hated so many things about the woman, with her haughty attitude and her purile japes, but something about those eyes was positively infuriating. The way they drew attention demanded it. The way they looked her with not a shred of seriousness. That mocking glare, that condescending gaze.

It was all much too much for Sister Lucia, and as she writhed beneath the larger woman, she wished for nothing less than to shut those eyes and smash the face they were attached. Sadly, such goals were currently out of reach.

”A reaction of the body, nothing more.” She scoffed at Madeline’s accusation, dismissing her as she once again mounted her. [color=#80000BF]”I merely…wait.”[/color] She shook her head as the woman’s chest began to descend upon her face. ”No, no, no, not again, not-”

Again, Sister Lucia found her face between Madeline’s breasts, though this time she was at least able to breathe. Consciousness was a mixed blessing, as it meant that she had to endure this woman’s acrid scent in her nostrils and see those eyes - those damned eyes - gazing down at her.

She tried to struggle, but Madeline had strength, size, and leverage on her side, using them all to keep Sister Lucia’s hands pinned as surely as if they were iron manacles. It was infuriating enough all by itself.

But then…then came the grinding.

A shudder ran through Sister Lucia at the first press, an involuntary motion, a betrayal from her body. It was slow at first, so small it could’ve been dismissed as accidental if not for the woman’s nature. But then came another, and another. Without even thinking, her own hips rose to meet it, seeking out pleasure without her leave.

Sister Lucia closed her eyes and tried to blot out the pleasure, tried to shield her mind from this woman’s wicked spells, but it was an increasingly futile gesture. With no escape, no reprieve, she found herself at the challenger’s mercy, and all she could do was defiantly resist what they both knew was coming.

From within the confines of Madeline’s chest, Sister Lucia screamed in pure rage.

[Lightman]

“Shhhhh.”

Madeline silenced Lucia mid-protest simply by lowering herself that little bit further, soft flesh pressing over the nun’s mouth once again and reducing the rest of her indignation to muffled frustration. The brunette rather liked the sight beneath her. Lucia’s face remained partially visible between the curves of her chest, just enough for those fierce blue eyes to peer outward with equal parts outrage and something far less righteous. There it was again, beneath all the fury. That flicker. That dangerous warmth the blonde kept trying so desperately to bury beneath scripture and insults.

Cute, in its own way.

Madeline could even see the moments Lucia attempted to shut her eyes entirely, as though darkness might somehow spare her from what her own body was beginning to admit. It would not. Both of them understood that much already. One did not arch beneath another woman’s thigh from mere biological reflex alone. Not like this. Not with such an instinctive hunger threaded through the movement.

The Englishwoman continued at an unhurried pace. Her thigh glided steadily between Lucia’s legs, bare skin brushing and pressing with measured precision against the trapped blonde’s centre. There was patience in the motion. Deliberate consistency. Madeline knew perfectly well how the body responded to repetition, to mounting anticipation, to the slow erosion of resistance through sensation rather than force.

Sure enough, Lucia’s hips betrayed her soon after. The first hesitant rise earned a quiet gleam from Madeline’s emerald eyes. The second made her smile. “There. That is honesty.”

Her wrists remained pinned securely overhead while Madeline shifted her weight just enough to keep the champion firmly trapped beneath her. Every adjustment came naturally to the brunette. Tiny redistributions of pressure prevented Lucia from finding leverage anywhere beneath her body. The woman could struggle all she wished. Madeline controlled the centre line entirely now.

Another muffled scream reached her chest. Madeline answered it with a low hush near Lucia’s ear, her lips barely grazing warm skin as she leaned down further. “You fight this harder than you fight the match itself.” She whispered. “Interesting priorities for a champion.”

The thigh between Lucia’s legs picked up slightly in pace afterwards. Not enough to become frantic. Just enough for the change to feel undeniable. Each pass dragged firmer than before, teasing more insistently against the blonde’s rising reactions while Madeline calmly observed every tiny betrayal crossing Lucia’s body.

“How you speak endlessly about corruption…” Madeline continued, voice smooth as silk. “About temptation. About sinners and falsehoods.” A faint breath of amusement escaped her. “Yet the moment your body is honest, you treat it like an enemy.” Her fingers tightened lightly around Lucia’s wrists. “Perhaps that is why you are…struggling to perform tonight. You are too busy pretending to be above desire instead of understanding it.”

Lucia’s hips rose again despite herself. Madeline felt it immediately. A satisfied hum slipped from the brunette as she lowered her head once more, allowing her voice to settle intimately beside the nun’s ear while the crowd noise blurred into distant static around them. “No one else needs to know.” The English Rose said quietly. “You may taste them if you like. Lick to your heart’s content. Feel free to enjoy. Just between us.”

Her smile deepened against Lucia’s skin. “I promise not to tell your congregation.”

[BlackAkuma]

The longer this went on, the harder Madeline was to resist, as Sister Lucia found herself sinking into the woman’s miasma. Her nose being free to breathe was the worst part, she decided. Aside from it meaning that she couldn't feign unconsciousness again, it almost meant that she had to inhale every scent this whore sent her way, drowning herself in her foe’s fumes. There was something about her natural perfume that made her fine hairs stand at attention, the sweat, mixed with the subtle hints of roses…

No, no, that was only in her imagination. But that was how the Devil worked, was it not? Taking roots in fantasies, watering them like weeds in a garden, until they were impossible to strip away. Even now, as she shut her eyes tight, such filthy images worked their way into her mind, such degrading notions, that they set the stomach to turn and ground her teeth tight together.

And this heat! This infernal heat!

It was infuriating, even more so with Madelin whispering her vile poisons. It was not simply the words she spoke but the hubris behind them, as if she had no single concern in the world, as if she regarded Sister Lucia as no true threat, no true champion. Dismissive, disrespectful, she longed to make the slattern regret those words. If only she could get up, if only she could fight, if only-

Another moan came out as Madeline’s thigh rubbed against her sweltering sex, sending lightning through her spine. Sister Lucia’s brow furrowed as this succubus tempted her and made offerings, as if she could be made to give into such carnal cravings. Defiant, she shook her head, as much as she could within the confines. She would not surrender, she would not so easily bend.

But then her tongue came out. A quick, teasing lick, followed by another. Sister Lucia’s eyes widened as the foul muscle moved of its own accord, disobeying her commands and tasting of Madeline’s flesh. It slipped along the skin, circled around it, even made its way beneath the fabric to the tender center beneath. Her lips were moving, too, kissing at the flesh, suckling it, even nibbling.

It was as if some dread hand was working her body, a puppet on invisible strings. Surely, this was an assault from the foulest pit, making Sister Lucia partake of the flesh that she certainly wanted no part of. Sister Lucia moaned - a moan of desperation, not of lust, clearly - as her body moved of its own accord, forcing her to fill on the woman’s offerings. An indulgence beyond her control.

Powerless to stop it, she did her best to keep her mind clear as the pleasure threatened to consume her like flames in the grass, rapidly spreading and leaving ruin in their wake. Through it all, she focused and kept a calm center - Satan may have taken temporary dominion over her body, but so long as her mind remained pure, she would not be tainted, even as she felt the warmth growing between her legs.

[Lightman]

Madeline could feel the moment Lucia’s resistance finally betrayed her. At first, it had only been those tentative little licks, hesitant enough that another woman might have mistaken them for accidental contact. Madeline knew better. She felt every careful drag of the tongue against heated skin, every trembling kiss pressed into the curve of her breast while the “champion” remained trapped beneath her. The contrast amused the Briton immensely. Those ceruleans carried outrage and disbelief, yet Lucia’s body answered with unmistakable hunger. Such fierce denial paired with such eager surrender. It was almost adorable.

“There we are.”

A low purr rolled through her chest as Lucia’s tongue became bolder, sliding along sweat-damp flesh with increasing desperation. Madeline kept the sound quiet, hidden beneath the roar of the crowd and the scrape of bodies against canvas. She had no intention of exposing the nun completely. There was something far more delicious about this remaining between them alone. A private little confession stolen beneath the bright arena lights. Beneath them, her bare thigh maintained its slow glide between Lucia’s legs, coaxing warmth from the blonde in measured waves.

Then Lucia’s tongue slipped deeper. Madeline inhaled sharply through her nose as she felt the probing muscle disappear beneath fabric, tracing higher until at last it found the sensitive nub hidden there. A muted moan escaped her before she buried it beneath a long exhale, refusing to give the audience more than the faintest hint of what was occurring. Her eyes fluttered for only a second before reopening, emerald irises settling upon Lucia with renewed amusement.

“My~.” She whispered near the nun’s ear. “You truly were curious.”

Another slow suckle sent a pleasant shiver along her spine. Madeline allowed herself a small smile at that. For all Lucia’s sermons and outrage, the woman tasted her as though starved. Not rough now. Not angry. Greedy, perhaps, but almost reverent too. Madeline found herself strangely protective of the secret unfolding between them. The crowd saw domination. They saw humiliation. Only the two women involved understood how eagerly Sister Lucia had begun drinking from the poisoned cup she claimed to despise.

Her thigh gradually changed pace. The motion slowed little by little until the rubbing nearly ceased altogether, though the pressure itself only deepened. Muscle flexed beneath supple skin as Madeline pressed upward more firmly between Lucia’s legs, creating a steady pillar that refused to retreat. The same thighs that had nearly crushed the air from Lucia’s throat now nestled hard against her centre, forcing the blonde to feel every ounce of strength contained within them. Lucia’s growing heat did not escape her notice. Nor did the trembling breaths against her chest.

Madeline lowered her lips close to the nun’s ear again, voice dropping into something smoother, quieter. “We’ve gone far enough for me to guide you.” she said. “The rest of this journey, however, is entirely your choice. Seek out the end, however you so wish.”

One hand continued pinning both wrists overhead with infuriating ease. The other slowly drifted downward across Lucia’s body until slender fingers finally settled upon one breast. Madeline squeezed gently at first, savouring the softness hidden beneath the severe attire. Unlike Lucia’s earlier handling, there was no rough greed in the touch. Her palm massaged with patient familiarity, fingertips sliding beneath exposed underboob and under the bright fabric itself, exploring warm skin inch by inch.

“Such a lovely body, underneath all of this scripture.” Her thumb brushed teasingly across sensitive flesh while her thigh remained planted firmly between Lucia’s legs, unmoving now save for the occasional subtle flex that sent another pulse of pressure through the champion’s body.

[BlackAkuma]

Being a regular wrestler long before she had dipped her toes into the sick, festering pools of hentai, Sister Lucia had come to note the differences in crowds, in the way they acted during these matches. While she had little love for these masses who snubbed her attempts to save them, she could not help find their reactions curious and intriguing.

With standard matches or hardcore, they were boisterous and raucous, chanting along at every opportunity. Sometimes they seemed more interested in themselves than the match unfolding before them.

With hentai, however, they tended to be more disorganized, discordant. There was something inherently awkward about watching what was essentially porn in masse, in doing what was typically a private activity surrounded by thousands. They would grow quiet as the match dragged on, almost hauntingly so, only to erupt whenever a climax happened or the action grew intense.

Then there were moments like this, when one competitor was working the other over, with a climax in the works. You could hear the murmurs of anticipation, hear the whispers, and even the occasional gasp. It was amazing how so many people could grow quiet when they needed to be.

Sister Lucia wished they were louder. That way, she wouldn’t have to hear her own heartbeat, thrumming against her chest, nor would she have to hear her unwilling moans as they echoed into Madeline’s breast. And she certainly would’ve loved for them to drone out this woman’s taunts, as she lorded over her position.

She was being sucked into the pace, trapped under Madeline’s grinding, speeding towards the inevitable end. While an orgasm would not end the match, they would both see the significance of it, both from a strategic and a symbolic gesture. The first woman to get an orgasm on the champion - that would be a worthy title to hold, regardless of this match’s outcome. As such, Sister Lucia did her best to deny the woman, holding back even as her body ignored her commands.

For a moment, she thought she could ride out the tide, as Madeline's ministrations suspiciously slowed, leaving a void between them. Her body had been reaching a high, but without the gyrations, she was steadily coming down. She could endure.

That hope was dashed when her hips began to thrust forward at a feverish pace, as her body greedily sought out the pleasure that was being denied it. Sister Lucia shook her head, panicking, as a sweet release welled its way up inside her, a dam threatening to burst at any moment. She clenched her teeth, curled her toes, clenched her fist so tight that the skin reddened, but…but…

Sister Lucia came. Her body stiffened, bridged up so hard that she lifted Madeline upwards, and came all at once, spilling from her loins in quick, bursting gush. She went taut as a bowstring for a few seconds, then gave out all at once, sagging beneath the English Rose.

[Lightman]

Madeline had taken a calculated risk the moment she ceased the steady movement of her thigh. Unlike her more overt displays with others, with Lucia, Madeline had offered the champion the reins to write her own narrative, to author her own climax. With some opponents, denying stimulation at such a delicate point could have broken the momentum entirely. It might have allowed them to regain clarity, rebuild resistance, and claw their way back from the edge. Lucia, a zealot by nature, would surely resist such an obvious surrender to pleasure, particularly with a “temptress” like Madeline as the catalyst.

Lucia, however, had already betrayed too much. The frantic hunger hidden beneath every denial had become impossible to miss. The trembling tongue against Madeline’s skin, the involuntary arching of her hips, the desperate little sounds smothered into the brunette’s chest. All of it painted the same picture.

Lucia wanted release.

Not because Madeline forced it upon her, but because her own body had begun craving it with increasing desperation. For all the champion’s sermons and righteous fury, she was no different from anyone else who stepped into this division. Pride dressed it differently. Faith attempted to rename it. Yet beneath all the layers, desire remained desire. And Madeline knew she had her the moment Lucia’s hips began moving on their own.

The nun shook her head fiercely, golden strands clinging to flushed cheeks as if denial alone could somehow halt what was happening inside her body. Yet every thrust betrayed her further. She ground herself desperately against Madeline’s thigh, chasing the very pleasure she claimed to despise. Madeline offered almost nothing in return now. Only the pressure and presence. Lucia herself carried the rest of the journey forward.

Emerald eyes remained fixed upon her throughout it all. Madeline barely moved beyond maintaining her dominant position, wrists pinned securely overhead while her weight kept Lucia trapped beneath her. There was no need for further input from Madeline; Lucia was now actively seeking her own erotic destruction, a stark revelation for a woman who so adamantly preached purity.

And it was not long until the dam - like that curated image she tried to show to the masses - broke.

Lucia’s entire body arched upward beneath her, back bowing hard enough to lift Madeline slightly from the canvas as the champion finally broke apart under the lust she had fought so fiercely to suppress. A sharp gasp escaped Madeline as she felt the convulsion ripple through the smaller woman, felt every tremor and shudder travel upward through locked bodies. Lucia collapsed almost immediately afterwards, tension draining from her all at once as exhaustion overtook resistance.

For a moment, Madeline simply remained there above her. The crowd had erupted around them, yet it sounded strangely distant compared to the ragged breathing beneath her chest. Lucia looked utterly spent now, sprawled beneath the brunette with flushed skin and trembling limbs, stripped of all that furious momentum she had clung to earlier in the match. Madeline leaned down close enough for only Lucia to hear her.

“Your little secret is safe with me…fellow whore.”

The teasing lilt returned just slightly at the end. She finally sat upright, calmly adjusting her top where it had been tugged and displaced during the struggle. The fabric still clung damply against her skin. Madeline glanced downward briefly before dragging two fingers along her bare thigh, gathering some of the lingering evidence left there. Thoughtfully, she brought her fingers to her lips and tasted them with slow composure.

A faint hum of approval escaped her. “Mm. Delightful.”

Then, with graceful ease, Madeline rose from atop the prostrate champion. She stepped away at an unhurried pace, though not before the underside of her bare foot brushed teasingly across Lucia’s cheek in passing. “Up.” The touch was light, almost playful, yet no less condescending for it. By the time Madeline turned back around, she already stood poised and composed once more, emerald eyes watching the exhausted champion carefully. “I allowed you a moment to indulge yourself.” she said evenly. “But now I expect more from you, something worthy of a champion.” Her smile sharpened just slightly.