Storm v The Morrigan – Bar Brawl Hardcore Match

[hamish1024]

Her dirty headbutt should have won her an advantage, but Storm somewhat squandered it by stopping to indulge in excited thoughts about what ‘winner on top’ could entail. She wasn’t sure if the ferocious Morrigan would suffer her own forfeit with good grace, or if the domme would be absolutely fuming, but it’d justify playing with bondage toys at the very least. In any event, Storm was certain that imposing carnal control over this woman would be an absolute delight.

Her enthusiasm for entering into this high-stakes pact shone through as she slammed a quick fist into Morrigan’s stomach. The Irish woman grunted, but stood firm, only needing a second to compose herself.

Shit.

Despite everything, Morrigan could still take a punch. Storm had been running on fumes, and launched a half-baked attack. It hadn’t been enough, and now she was wide open for the retaliation.

“Unhff!” Storm groaned as the goth ran bodily into her. The tired Scot would have almost certainly fallen had Morrigan not slung her strong arms around her, holding her tight, and dragged her, staggering, across the bar.

This had intent, which the groggy Storm found quite ominous, but her weak squirms weren’t enough to do anything about it. With a pang of apprehension, Storm realised her fantasies about toying with the dark-haired domme all night could very easily be reversed. That would be… torrid, to say the least. Morrigan obviously wasn’t one for half-measures, so if she had her hooks in you, she’d doubtless use them. Storm felt a shiver down her spine at the prospect.

Her spine was soon to have other problems too. Turning this into a contest for topping rights seemed to have energised Morrigan as much as it had Storm, the Irishwoman showing yet more impressive strength as she shaped for a power move, using the chest hold to pick Storm up for a suplex.

By rights, Storm should have been terrified of her impending demolition, but at this point she was almost impressed at Morrigan’s endless reserves of ruthless aggression. Her world flipped and she braced herself for something painful.

Her heart skipped a beat as she felt the suplex release at the apex, and her battered body was left to sail through the air.

“Fuckkk!!” she cried as she crashed into the pool table, as shocked as she was hurt. The thin green felt offered no cushioning for her fall, and the Scot spasmed in pain as her back took the brunt of the spectacular impact. The table juddered, but the solid wood construction held firm, leaving Storm on top, writhing in agony.

An observer might have been shocked that they’d manage to pull a move in this match that didn’t result in the immediate destruction of an item of furniture, but the novelty was lost on the suffering Storm. Her spine had already taken an unfathomable amount of abuse in this match, and the fresh damage was flooding Storm’s senses with renewed, white-hot pain. Hurt and disoriented, she flailed weakly on the green felt and clutched at her back with a grimace.

[BlackAkuma]

The Morrigan took that punch, and as she did, it didn’t escape her notice that Storm was able to put no small amount of power behind it, even now, after all the damage she’d taken. They’d been fighting for, what? Ten or so minutes. An eternity in a fight like this, as all the damage they’d create in the space would testify to. Even with all that, she still had plenty of energy left. Impressive shit. Stamina and guts, in a fun package with great tits and a killer ass. Where has this woman been all her life?

In Scotland, apparently. The Morrigan was already wishing she’d gone there more.

As fun as this was, even uber-bitches like them had limits to their stamina, and she knew they were both reaching theirs. The blood loss wasn’t helping, and Morrigan could almost feel the adrenaline waning, as her body began to revolt. She wasn’t sure how much she had left in the tank, but she doubted it would be a good idea to push it for much longer, especially if she wanted to be awake when she took this incredibly sexy Irishwoman home.

So the suplex was almost a desperation move, digging deep to find the power she needed to heft Storm up and send her crashing down, landing hard on the pool table and sending the balls flying to the four winds. The exertion took its toll and she dropped to a knee immediately after, but she was still way better off than Storm was at the moment.

The Morrigan pushed herself up and looked at her handiwork, watching Storm writhe on the table. She wouldn’t be up there long, either, as the destructive domme hopped on it in the next moment and straddled her waist, taking what was rapidly becoming her favorite seat. She chewed on her lip as she picked a few stray shards out of her tits, then pulled at her top and brought her bruised, sweaty breasts out in full, exposing them the air and breaking goosebumps out all over body.

”Enjoy the view.” The Morrigan gave them a quick bounce before she leaned forward and dropped her chest on Storm’s face, spreading the full flesh over her opponent’s face, wrapping her hands around the woman’s skull and pulling her deep into the cleavage. A little crude, yeah, but fuck it, it seemed like a fitting way for the match to end. And it had been a long time since she’d knocked anyone out with her tits, might as well cross that of the To-Do list.

[hamish1024]

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Storm was seeing double as she stared weakly up at the ceiling lights, splayed out awkwardly atop the pool table. She’d been rag-dolled an awful lot this match, brutalised by her enthusiastically thuggish opponent, and Morrigan’s uncompromising power moves certainly weren’t getting any easier to take. The brunette was overwhelmed. After that latest show of strength, Storm’s spine was molten lava, pouring pain into the rest of her body through twitching, tortured nerves.

With a miserable whimper, she used the last of her energy to reach into the small of her back, where a pool ball dug uncomfortably, having narrowly avoided wedging itself in her ass. She rolled it away with an appalled grimace, and flopped back on the felt. Hard as it was, she was exhausted enough to feel like she could just lie here forever.

Morrigan, of course, had other ideas. Almost immediately, Storm felt a weight on her stomach, the pressure aggravating her bruised belly as the relentless domme straddled her and sat down. The pool table gave a brief creak of protest as it was given a second heavyweight wrestler to support, but it held firm. Storm could sympathise. The squashed and pulverised Scot had no chance of breaking out of this pin, and she lay there with a pained splutter, looking up at her raven-haired tormentor with foggy eyes.

Blurred vision notwithstanding, she got quite the show as Morrigan pulled up her top to reveal her big round breasts. Even in Storm’s dishevelled state, she couldn’t help but react, a sigh of pleasant surprise escaping her lips. The goth’s tits were gorgeous to look at, despite the scratches and bruises marking the effects of this rough fight, Morrigan without any inhibition as she gently jiggled her firm, full, creamy boobs, undoubtedly enjoying the attention.

Storm gulped, fully aware she was about to get a much closer view as Morrigan teased her and then flopped forward.

“Mmphh!” Storm moaned as she was suddenly muffled by a face full of bare chest. She squirmed and wriggled ineffectually as she tried to work her face out of the smother, but her head was firmly trapped in cleavage, and her world remained dark. Morrigan’s breasts were slick with a heady mix of sweat and alcohol splashes, making the smother all the more torrid. A tight seal of soft warm flesh soon formed around Storm’s nose and mouth, slowly suffocating the Scot with sexy but incessant purpose.

She felt her cheeks redden against the goth’s breasts as the intimate smother wore on. Storm’s lungs tingled from lack of air, and the battered wrestler began to feel a different and dangerous kind of lightheadedness lurking at the edge of her senses.

There were certainly worse ways to go, the exhausted brunette mused. She felt beaten and humiliated, and was sorely tempted to give herself up, to be lured in and embraced by the hot, stifling oblivion of Morrigan’s dominating smother.

Of course, that wouldn’t be the end of it. There were stakes at play. If she went to sleep now, she could wake up anywhere, subject to the whims of this exciting but viciously volatile domme. It wasn’t an entirely unpleasant thought, but it wasn’t something that Storm would simply roll over for if she had any remaining say in it. Approaching the end of her oxygen supplies, the flustered girl gave a final protesting moan and flail of her limbs.

By pure chance, her fingertips brushed against the pool ball she’d discarded earlier, the one that had almost lodged itself in her ass and caused her no end of pain. Her senses fading, she just managed to curl her fingers around it before it rolled away again.

Storm gripped the ball with white knuckles, recognising it as her final lifeline, then she swung it up sharply towards the side of Morrigan’s head.

[BlackAkuma]

The Morrigan could almost hear Sabine chiding her, telling her that this wasn’t an effective way to end the match and that she should’ve gone for something safer and more efficient. As wrestling moves go, this was only mildly better than smothering someone with a pillow.

And yeah, broadly speaking, there were things that could’ve been done better, that she could’ve relied on and went for that would’ve knocked Storm out in short order. A guillotine choke. A rear naked choke. Hell, she could’ve just headscissor the woman’s head off and called it a day. Night. Whatever.

But this was just so much more fun.

Her chest spilled over Storm’s face and the woman went into all the predictable reactions, squiring and trying to turn her head, desperately seeking her release. The Morrigan was gifted with the heavenly sensation of a mouth searching for packets of air and only finding her enveloping curves. She dominated the woman’s vision, her smell, her taste, every sensation.

”Nope, going nowhere.” She pressed harder as Storm’s struggles reached their peak and created a perfect seal. ”Just relax. Lay back. Let it happen.” She cooed in her most motherly tones. ”You’ll wake up in my bed, and I’ll give you the best fucking night of your life. Might even let my partner get in the mix - she’ll love you, can already tell.” The mere thought of it was enough to make Morrigan tingle all over.

”I’m gonna do things you don’t even have words for yet.” She ran her hands through Storm’s auburn hair, gently, delicately, possessively. ”I’m gonna-”

Storm hit her in the head with a pool ball.

At least, Morrigan assumed it was a pool ball. The last thing she remembered before the pain was seven the number 7 in the corner of her eye, and then she got hit by something hard in the skull, and she couldn't rightly imagine what the hell else it would be. Whatever the case, it was enough to rock her world and sent her flailing off the table, slipping off of Storm’s bountiful body and hitting the floor below hard on her back.

That was where she stayed for the moment, too, head swimming and eyes spinning, her entire world turned upside down for a few critical moments.

[hamish1024]

Morrigan really, really enjoyed smothering. That was the distinct impression Storm got as she suffered beneath the Irishwoman’s bare, sweaty, suffocating breasts. Her foe had been feisty all match, of course, Morrigan finding all kinds of fun from this violent encounter, her spirits never faltering despite the brutal back-and-forth the two heavyweights had endured. Still, there was a detectable gear change as she got to use her curves to slow things down, take control, and subject Storm to a drawn-out, debilitating smother. Morrigan was luxuriating in her dominance, purring warmly into Storm’s ear, and idly letting her fantasies come to the fore. The goth was clearly savouring every second as she sweetly told the smothered girl how thoroughly she was about to get owned tonight. Storm twitched at the suggestion of making it two-on-one; there were already plenty of unknowns around giving Morrigan free reign for the night, and the idea of doubling that punishment was intimidating, to say the least.

Still, she wasn’t anyone’s plaything yet. Her instinctive use of the improvised weapon appeared to have paid off, as she heard the solid crack of pool ball on skull, feeling the thud of the impact in her striking arm. Morrigan toppled sideways, making Storm gasp as she was finally freed of the smother, fresh air tingling coolly against her flustered, sweat-soaked face.

There was another, bigger thud as Morrigan crumpled onto the floor. The lack of any protest from the domme meant she was either really hurt, or really pissed off. As Storm lay splayed across the top of the pool table, panting, she knew she had to capitalise on this break somehow, or she would have just made things worse.

Slowly, shakily, she pushed up, still panting for air. Storm's hair was damp and tousled from where Morrigan had toyed with it. The intensity of that exchange had left her cheeks red and hormones racing. Her whisky buzz was peaking, and the adrenaline high of the fight was dangerously close to crashing. One mis-step and she would be all kinds of fucked, figuratively and (as Morrigan would have it) literally.

Groaning, Storm rolled up onto her knees and peered over the edge of the pool table, curiously inspecting the floored form of the Morrigan, breasts now hanging free, apparently suffering from an extremely bad headache. The Scotswoman was exhausted, but she knew she had to prevent her opponent from getting up again.

She had no other option but to put her faith in gravity. Storm positioned herself on the edge of the table, raised one arm, and let herself fall off, bringing her elbow down as she did so. Following the Morrigan’s flight to the floor, but trying to nail the domme with a heavy elbow drop to double down on her lucky escape.

[BlackAkuma]

The Morrigan was definitely hurt. She’d just had a ball made of…what were pool balls made out of, come to think of it? She had no idea, but whatever it, it was about as hard as a rock, and she was one of the few people with enough experience to make that comparison. He skull was rocked her senses were flaring, she was barely able to make sense of her environment.

But pissed off? Nah. For starters, that would’ve required some degree of wherewithal, a level of thinking that she simply was not capable of at the moment. Beyond that, though, she couldn't be made at Storm for continually fighting back and giving her the sort of raw, nasty brawl she craved. She’d come into this hoping to get the full experience, and fuck, she was leaving with that. It was like she’d taken a time warp back to her younger days. Felt damned good.

It was pleasant thought, one of the few she was capable of as she slipped off the table, grasping her aching skull. The spot where the ball struck was tender and touchy, made her think something had cracked beneath the skin, but that was a problem she could worry about later. Even in her haze, she knew she needed to get up. Now.

The Morrigan began to push her way up, but it was a slow, laborious process getting her bulk up, even moreso that usual. She squinted through her good eye as she rose and saw a vague Storm-shaped object looming above her, but she didn’t process the importance of that right away. Not until it was far too late.

Storm rolled off the table like she was falling off a bed, a simple move that looked like death to Morrigan at the moment. Far too close, far too fast, there was nothing she could do as the woman’s elbow came down hard into her chest, landing right in the tender spot where the ribcage meets the stomach. Her body shot up, nearly folded in half, and when it came down she was in a cough, wheezing, hacking fit, desperately grabbing her stomach, fighting for every breath she could take in.

”I…I...” She sputtered as she rolled from side to side, trying to form even a single syllable. ”Fuck.”