L.A.W. - League of Anime Wrestling

If Neith had any questions about who the stronger woman was between them, they were certainly gone now. In fact, Asp would dare say that this woman was the second strongest foe she had ever faced, at least in terms of raw strength.

The first would, of course, be Naga, so that was hardly a fair comparison. She was an absolute beast of a woman, well over six feet tall, teaming with muscle, one of the most dominant and towering wrestlers in LAW. Neith might not have boasted that insane level of power, but when she clung to her supple body and dug into her curves, she could feel the way those muscles shifted, sense the dauntless power brimming beneath the surface.

Even with Asp’s small stature, there were few who could’ve pulled off what she did and done it with such resounding force. The blow had not been delivered with Neith’s weight behind, but with some considerable power behind that, enough to leave the Fire Wyrm utterly exhausted on the floor. She breathed deep, filling her lungs with the room’s heated air. She groaned and shook her head, then looked up to see…

Her.

Neith styled herself as a goddess. Asp didn’t begrudge her that. While she wouldn’t call her belly dancing a ‘gimmick’, she certainly let it dictate her style and leaned into the aesthetic with her matches, as much as she could do while still wearing functional attire. She’d suspected Neith was much the same. That she might make reference to it with the occasional word, that it would flavor her taunts, little more.

That was not the impression she received when she looked up and saw Neith looming over her. The dull lights of the room cast shadows around her, making her outfit look like gleaming gold. She carried herself in an imperious fashion, tall and proud, and she seemed even taller than Asp knew her to be. There was a poise in her stride, a calm confidence befitting a deity who deigned to discipline in her realm.

Most striking of all, however, was her face. There was a smile there, and a dangerous one, that sent a cool chill along Asp’s skin. Those eyes, blue and glowing pools, glowed as they swept across her downed form, looking her over with hunger, desires, and something deeper and dangerous. Asp had never felt smaller in her life, never intimidated and aroused at the same time. She was a mouse who’d wandered into the wrong kitchen, and the cat was bringing down her claws.

Asp had just begun to sit up
when Neith moved in and made her play, descending on her with fulsome, engulfing hips. Asp’s face pressed against the heated spot between her legs, and she welcomed the warmth with a lusty moan.

The noise that followed, however, was decidedly less pleasant. Pressure - crushing, destructive pressure - came bearing down on Asp’s skull, as Neith’s legs swelled and hardened around her. The pressure was insane, like being caught between two steel pylons, and Asp’s shriek reverberated through the bigger Egyptian’s body. Her hands came up on reflex, vainly trying to pry her legs apart, but she would’ve had better luck forcing apart a hydraulic press.

Asp was going nowhere. Not until Neith allowed her to.

Yes, yes, that was it.

Neith hadn't doubted herself - she never truly did - but feeling that initial moan vibrate through her core confirmed everything she'd suspected. Despite all that spirited resistance, despite the clever counters and the impressive skill, this woman wanted exactly what Neith was giving her. That lusty sound resonated directly against Neith's most intimate area, separated only by the thin fabric of her leotard, and the sensation sent a spike of vindication through her chest.

They all wanted to submit to the goddess. Every single one.

She stared down past the curve of her own body, past her heaving chest, to find Asp's eyes. Those beautiful, expressive eyes now trapped between her thighs, visible just above where Neith's crotch pressed against her face. "[Look at me. See who owns you right now.]"

The position demanded everything from Neith's body. Her arms trembled with exertion, biceps flexing as she gripped the ropes to maintain her elevated stance. Her legs were stretched in an uncomfortable configuration. She'd had to spread wide enough to encompass both Asp's head and the turnbuckle padding, trapping them together, which left her ankles only barely crossed between the padding and the pole. The strain radiated through her thighs, her hips, her core.

But Asp was making it easier to last as long as necessary, especially once the shriek came.

The sound tore through flesh and fabric to strike at nerve endings that had nothing to do with competition and everything to do with something far more primal. Neith's eyes widened slightly, her lips parting as an involuntary, choked groan escaped - genuine, unguarded, a sound of pure pleasure that she hadn't intended to release. And the hands that came up to grip her thighs - Asp's desperate, futile attempts to pry her legs apart - only enhanced the experience. Neith loved that part. Always had. The feel of someone's hands on her thighs, trying to escape, trying to find purchase, trying to create even a millimeter of space.

Her thighs swelled with renewed effort, the muscle beneath the smooth skin hardening like iron as she squeezed with everything she had. The fabric of her leotard stretched taut, and she could feel Asp's skull compressing between her legs, could feel the padding giving slightly behind the dancer's head.

She couldn't stop the words that came next. They spilled from her lips in Arabic, low and husky, dripping with aggression and satisfaction.

"[That's it, beautiful. Scream for your goddess. Let me feel it.]" Her voice was breathy, strained with exertion but thick with genuine arousal. "[Those hands on my thighs... do you feel how hopeless this is? How perfectly you fit right there?]"

Then she wrenched down one final time, pouring every remaining ounce of strength into her legs. The squeeze was vicious, crushing, meant to leave an impression that would last long after she released it.

But her arms were screaming now. The trembling had become a full shake, and Neith knew she had perhaps seconds before her grip on the ropes failed entirely. She couldn't afford to tumble ungracefully to the canvas - not after reclaiming her goddess persona so perfectly.

She released the pressure in her legs just enough to unlock her ankles, then let go of the ropes. Gravity took over immediately, and Neith slid down Asp's body in a controlled descent. Her hands found the dancer's shoulders for balance as she dropped, her thighs dragging across Asp's face and neck before her rear hit the canvas.

As soon as her hips touched down, Neith's legs were moving again, wrapping around Asp's midsection instead of her head. She hooked one ankle behind the opposite knee, her practiced movements swift despite the exertion. The figire-four bodyscissor locked in place around Asp's waist, and Neith leaned back, using her hands on the canvas behind her for leverage.

A bit of payback.

Fuck, this was hot. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Lucy was doing her best to say in control during all of this - hell, if Willy was on good behavior, she knew she couldn't do anything less. If they’d been in this situation with almost anyone other than Neith, she would’ve been fine, she was sure. She wasn’t some shy, horny little schoolgirl. She’d been around enough that this sort of thing wouldn’t get to her.

The only problem was, though, that it was Neith. That she still remembered that night they had together, where the woman’s body had wrapped around her and crushed her and smothered her into oblivion. That editing the footage from that night had left her so hot and bothered that it turned what should’ve taken two hours until a grueling all-nighter. That, as Neith’s legs swelled around Aspasia’s head, all those familiar sensations came rushing back to her. The heat, the smell, the taste…

A quick glance from the corner of her eye caught Theo and saw he was looking her way with a puzzled glance. It was only then that she realized she was biting her lip, a tick that she promptly shut down. She straightened up, focused, and did her best to not squirm in place like the nervous little schoolgirl she was feeling like.

No small accomplishment, either, because things were getting even hotter.

Lucy had no idea what Neith was saying. While she had studied a little Arabic, just out of curiosity, she was nowhere near knowledgeable enough to even make out a single word - but, honestly, she doubted she needed to. The tone carried more than enough weight, conveyed so much meaning. She was in control, dominating, and her words were dripping with lustful, brazen intent.

Then she powered down and made that authority real. Lucy winced as those thighs hardened around Aspasia’s skull, making the redhead go into a wild frenzy beneath her, squirming and flailing and shrieking into Neith’s crotch, utterly helpless and mollified. It was only for a moment, but she knew how long a moment could be between those legs.

When Neith let go and slid off Aspasia’s face, the woman she revealed was a far cry from the composed combatant she’d started out as. The other Egyptian was a haggard, heaving mess, and it didn’t get any better for her as those legs wrapped around her once more, this time clamping around her midsection in a position that was eerily familiar. Revenge, it seemed.

To Aspasia’s credit, she didn’t panic, but she was clearly in a world of pain. Her first attempt was to push at the legs, looking for any sort of relief, but it was made achingly clear she wouldn’t find any that way. With that established, she tried to rock up to her knees and twist to the side, trying to at least make the position awkward for Neith. Lucy didn’t think that would work too well, but she understood the desperation. Aspasia was already skinny enough, and Neith’s thighs genuinely looked like they were cutting her in half.

Made for a hell of an image, though.