The Secret Chamber (For Akuma)

[CyanDimitrik]

There is no shortage of people who enjoyed the idea of a powerful woman dominating them physically. Why, there's an entire tawdry industry out there catering to it. Not that Nefretiri would be particularly familiar with it. Not her circle. But she'd have to be blind to not notice the animal magnetism that comes with her style of wrestling.

Just, it's usually the audience who gets all steamed up over it. Not the girl she's trampling.

Still, given the nature of their bout, it doesn't come as a surprise when she confirms the suspicion. What does, however, is what is added after. It even causes the Egyptian's air to get caught in her throat.

The way she cared. The way she protected her.

That's new.

"Oh..," she says, blinking again. She isn't sure how to respond tk that one. Should she play it off? Affect an air of superiority? Be aloof? Disregard it? Be callous now? Or should- that hand is very close.

What did she just say?

This suddenly feels very much like a standoff, indeed. The Egyptian is wracked with conflicting impulses; to regain control of the moment, or to let Beatrix get her wish. What would that mean, though?

Her hand lifts then, swift and smooth to find the girl's blonde choppy locks. Her fingers tangle into them, attempting tk seize her head - and direct it in, albeit a little lower. Her head tips upward slightly, and she directs Beatrice's face to the side of her neck, presenting it for her to kiss.

It's a start.

"Has.. no one done that for you..?," she asks. "You gave yourself to me.. I wouldn't want to hurt you. You trusted me..."

[BlackAkuma]

There was fear here, but a different kind than what Beatrice had experienced the first time Nefretiri in the ring, when the woman wrapped her up in those powerful arms, and she expected to get broken. They had already well established that this woman wasn’t going to hurt her, that she was safe in her presence.

No, this was fear of failure. The fear that, if she messed this up or said the wrong thing, she would miss out on something precious, something she would never get another shot at. It was like she was taking a test she’d only known about an hour ago.

Somehow, she got the impression that Nefretiri was in a similar boat. That actually made it a little better. Like they were both traversing the same troubled waters.

She took Nefretiri’s hand, let it gently guide her where it wanted, and obliged with a kiss on the woman’s skin. A tentative one, a light peck, as if she were trying a new flavor for the first time - not too far from the truth. She decided she liked it quickly enough, and the next was fuller and wetter and longer, as was the one after that, and the one after that.

”No, never. I’m not super experienced with any of this.” One more kiss, then she rested her face against Nefretiri’s neck and sighed. ”Is that a problem? I know I’m not, like…the sexiest person or anything. I’m sure you could have anyone around here you wanted, I can’t be high on the list.”

[CyanDimitrik]

Nefretiri is being a little tricksy. A little defensive. And she knows she is. This is untested ground, unfamiliar territory. People are absolutely not this bold with her. It should be punished. Mocked. But... is that what she wants? Or does she want the feel of Beatrice's soft lips against her skin?

The answer comes with a soft, throaty vocalization. The sound escapes her, eyes falling shut by the second kiss to the neck. Her hand clenches up on the gathered hair follicles a bit tighter in response, her heart beating faster in her chest. "Mmnh~..." Her free hand lifts, stopping at the first thing the palm finds - which happens to be her waist beneath the jacket. Not as a guidance, like her other hand, but rather simply as a point of contact; instinctively reactive.

"If.. you were more.. 'experienced'..," Nefretiri begins slowly, her mind half-captured by the affections on her neck, "...I wouldn't.. be interested.."

There's something to be said for innocence. Despite everything, Nefretiri would not qualify as, ahem, a road often traveled.

"..w-what..?" This question comes in a daze. But she latches onto what the blonde is saying, and it finally brings her back to the present. She releases her hair in favor of seizing her at the shoulder and pushing - not hard, but firm, enough to break the contact and try to force their gazes to meet. "Why would you say that?," she asks, her tone admonishing. "You must know better. First, I will not allow someone less than exquisite so close to me. Second, the gear you wrestle in - it was deliberate, was it not? The shoulders, your chest, the thighs... Everyone in there must have noticed you. I did."

"You should be confident in your looks. You're..." Pause. Careful. Don't be too up-front. "...you should be confident." Her head cants forward. "Why do you think this way?"

[BlackAkuma]

God, it was just like Flight of the Phoenix, Chapter 14.

Vi and Caitlyn hide in a storm drain one night after going on the run from Malfiance, a new, deadly threat that far surpasses anything they’ve fought before. There, in the darkness, they grow close and finally share their true feelings, leading to a warm night by the campfire and a sultry, steamy night. Rated M, please leave feedback.

Was it weird that the only reference for this sort of thing came from fanfictions on message boards? Probably.

Beatrice didn’t feel like she was doing a bad job of things so far, though. Nefretiri certainly seemed to approve, if her noises were any indication. She took them as a barometer, telling her she was on the right track, and she went higher, then a little higher, then-

She broke away all of a sudden at Nefretiri’s outburst, confused at first, until she understood what she was getting at. She met the woman’s gaze, and what she might have dismissed as empty flattery was instead seen for it was - genuine, heartfelt feelings. It wasn’t a bluff, it wasn’t a fake. She meant every word she said. She’d kind of made peace with the idea that no one would look at her this way, and yet here was a person doing just that.

”My gear?” Should she tell her she got it from a cheap costume shop in Frankfurt? Probably not. ”It’s nothing special. I’m nothing…” She shrugged and decided to let that sentence finish itself. ”Listen. You’re beautiful. You’re radiant. I’m sure you turn heads wherever you go. You definitely turned mine.” She managed a sheepish laugh. ”I’ve never been the runway supermodel type. That’s my cousin. That’s all the superbabes walking around backstage, with the thick legs and the wide hips and the…”

Beatrice held out her hands in front of her chest and squeezed the air. It probably got the message across.

”I’m just not in that league, you know?”

[CyanDimitrik]

"Yes. I know," she says, regarding the commentary on her own beauty, turning heads, et al. This is something Nefretiri is aware of, and even revels in. But it's difficult to enjoy the mention under these circumstances!

"But if you didn't know you had something to be proud of, you might wear a simple, uninteresting singlet. Maybe even a full bodysuit, as if you thought this were Olympic wrestling. But you chose to wear something strapless. With gaps to hint of the body beneath."

The Egyptian exhales a soft, puffy breath through her nose. "And I'll not have the girl I'm allowing to kiss me call herself nothing special."

Releasing her, Nefretiri lifts tl her full height and takes a single step away from the couch. She suddenly, sharply pivots to face Beatrice, and her arms spread wide to present herself to her.

"Look at me. I am not... thick, like some women. I'm lean. Athletic. My body is a temple to athletic prowess and feminine beauty. I do not have the... ridiculous," she pauses to mirror the blonde's boobage indication, "nor am I shaped like a deep lore African fertility statue."

She suddenly points down at Beatrice, the nail tip of her index finger angling on her nose. "You are slim. I happen to like that. It makes it more.. enjoyable.. squeezing you. If you happened to not notice that while I held you. My one complaint was that you weren't showing a little more."

Her left arm crosses her torso just beneath the swell of her breasts, while the right hand lightly taps to her lips in thought. "You would look better in a two-piece. You would... feel better, too," she adds with a wry hooding of her gaze.

[BlackAkuma]

Okay, yes, she definitely wasn't telling Nefretiri she had gotten her wrestling outfit at the costume shop equivalent of a thrift store. It was even on discount.

She liked the outfit, of course - she wouldn’t have been wearing it if it she didn’t - but she’d seen it as a placeholder until she got something really sexy, like what Sabine and Morrigan came trotting to the ring in. Nefretiri seemed more genuinely interested in it, really taken in, and she didn’t quite know what to make of that. At least, not until the woman shared her thoughts.

She was told to look at her, and look at her she did. Nefretiri had a point. She was definitely sleeker and slimmer than many of the bodacious bodies people fawned over in LAW, but there was no denying her exotic beauty, her intensity, her aura. Beatrice swore, the woman glowed, and when she explained herself, it made all the sense in the world.

She perked up at the mention of her attire, though, and her jacket came out without even a moment of thought, her body acting before her mind even gave the command. She reached down for her shirt next, but stopped short of pulling it up as she gaze Nefretiri’s way, still gauging her reactions.

”I’m not wearing anything super-sexy under here, I didn’t really plan for…this.” She waved her hand about, indicating the whole crazy scene she suddenly found herself in. Imhotep’s dressing room. ”If you’ve got something you’d like me to slip into, though…”

[CyanDimitrik]

An eyebrow perks at that, watching the jacket immediately fall away. It's an improvement, but a small one. When the shirt starts tl lift, however, so too does the interest. She hadn't before, but now the Egyptian catches herself wondering what the body beneath was like. Is she toned? Fit? Just skinny? The singlet hid so much under there...

The eyes make contact, and the corner of her lips quirk into a smirk. "I wouldn't have accepted your lips if I thought be body beneath that wasn't something I wanted...," she notes. In her perhaps loquacious manner.

"Remove it. And stand." Of course, she expects her to keep the bra on. Removing the shirt would bring them closer to equal in dress, but further would be a step too much just yet, she thinks.

"You look.. about Aneksi's size. Maybe a little taller," she supposes. "But the way I dress her wouldn't suit you. Unless you intend to be my newest follower, Beatrix."

She doesn't know her real name!

[BlackAkuma]

Nefretiri had a certain way of speaking, Beatrice was coming to understand. It wasn’t just the accent, either. There was this forceful certainty in her words, this lack of doubt or hesitation that made her sound right, no matter the context. You just felt the need to do as she said - she’d experienced that in the ring, and she was experiencing it now.

When she told her to take the top off, the top came off. When she said stand, Beatrice stood.

She stood before Nefretiri now in her pink lingerie, clinging tight to her skin. Hardly the sexiest thing, not exactly something you’d find on the rack at Victoria’s Secret, but she hoped it was cute enough and showed Nefretiri what she wanted to see. Her stomach was smooth, with the barest hint of abs peeking out from the skin, her breasts were firm and round and perky. She wasn’t super-stacked, but she was in decent shape, she thought. A smooth form, well cared for, in decent condition.

She fought the urge to cover up her chest and put her hands behind her back, though there was nothing she could do about the blushing. What Nefretiri said caught her attention, though.

”I’m not super-sure what being your ‘follower’ means, exactly.” She looked back to the door, where that women - Aneski, she guessed - had left after giving her the stink eye. ”And my name’s actually Beatrice. The X thing is just for the ring. Makes me sound more, I dunno…domme-y.”

[CyanDimitrik]

Deep purple eyes explore the newly-bared form. The smooth dipping curvature of her waist was already noticeable with the singlet, but with nothing to obscure her, the waistline is a little easier to appreciate. A hint of abdominal muscle, the type of body appropriate to a girl who's mindful of keeping in shape. Not the sleek form of a professional athlete, but she didn't need that. This body suited her face. Her breasts are perky, in that youthful gravity-defying way - and she's not overly endowed. The singlet might've added a bit of a boost and lift, but she looks fine. She looks sweet. Take away the black hat, whip, and heels, and you have the making of a tomboyish girl-next-door type.

People could fall for her. People should fall for her. It's annoying that her experience has been so different, and her view of herself is so... flawed.

She can get into that in a bit. For now, however, she was making a point. And when Beatrice has stood, displaying herself as bid, the Egyptian steps forward as well. The very edge of her bosom brushes into Beatrice's.

"I see. My name is Nefret el-Nasri," she answers. "I added a royal suffix to be true to my," her hands lift vaguely waist-high, "ring presence. You may call me Nefret in private."

Those arms suddenly lash forward, encircling Bea's waist. The girl is yanked forward, rhyming the embrace in their match. But there is a distinct emphasis on the midsection as the Egyptian arches her back to press the distinct feel of the ridges composing her abdominal muscle. Simultaneously, she takes a moment to let herself feel Bea's smooth skin against her, the more subtle abdominal definition, the warmth of her skin.

"Do you see now? It feels much, much more... intense to feel the other girl's body more directly. Every breath she gasps, every strain in her muscles, her body struggling against yours. One woman forced to submit to the other's body by force alone..."

Her head tilts a little more forward, evening her gaze on her. "I have followers. It's a part of my persona... but also simply a fact of life. My name commands loyalty in the regular, mundane world."

She says that with just a hint of derision - the mundane world is so much less interesting than the ring.

"And my power in the ring commands the same. Moreover in the audience, so far. But you... you gave yourself to me. And you came to me again, even when you had the chance to make your escape. I intend to keep you."

[BlackAkuma]

Nefret el-Nasri.

”Nefret el-Nasri.”

The way that name came off Beatrice’s tongue gave her a small, electric thrill, making her blood pump just that much faster. It had a regal tone. Authoritative, powerful, commanding. It suited the woman well, so well that she was genuinely surprised it was her actual name and not one she’d chosen for herself. Either it was luck or her parents had a great deal of foresight.

She was just about to say as much, when the woman reached out and pulled Beatrice in at such a speed that it took her breath away for multiple reasons. Suddenly, they were close, so close, and without the audience to placate there was no longer any reason for her to hide exactly how that was making her feel. She let out a hot, lurid moan at the contact and withered in the woman’s embrace, saving every inch that the touch, craving more to go with it.

”I see.” She closed her eyes and sunk into Nefretiri’s hold. ”Oh, god, I see.”

Beatrice still wasn’t sure what the nature was of what they were building here - she wasn’t sure a ‘follower’ was what she wanted to be. She wanted closeness. She wanted contact. She wanted warmth.

But she knew that whatever this, it was good. So far. And she also knew that, when Nefretiri stated her intention, it knocked down whatever walls she had left.

Beatrice stood on her tiptoes, letting herself be absorbed in Nefretiri embrace. Giving the woman as much of her as she could give. She brought their faces close, close enough to share every breath, and whispered like she was sharing her deepest secret.

”Then take me.”