The Book of Lucia, Chapter II - Oblatio Incendia

[Lightman]

“Are you asking me out on a date?” Madeline managed with a faint, breathless humour as they shifted against one another. “I dare say we have skipped straight to something resembling a honeymoon, given the surroundings.”

The jest came more easily than she would have expected before this match. If someone had suggested she would trade quips amid such a contest, and with someone like Chastity no less, she might have dismissed it outright. Yet here they were, bodies close, movements precise, words slipping between exertions. Strange but not unwelcome. There was something to be said for an opponent who could engage both mind and body in equal measure. She suspected Chastity had something far more carnal and sinful in mind than a candlelit dinner, however.

Even as she spoke, her focus never wavered. The exchange beneath the surface told a far more important story than any idle conversation. To the uninitiated, it might appear a crude struggle, yet the nuances, the subtle shifts, the minute battles for leverage, were everything. Chastity was proving remarkably adept, countering Madeline’s attempts to regain control with both strength and an unexpected fluidity that reminded Madeline of a less abrasive Ryota. She resisted, pushed, pulled, and even managed a laugh as Madeline’s efforts to establish a dominant position were met with a powerful, inexorable force.

Then, with a burst of strength and speed, Chastity pushed through Madeline’s defensive frame. Madeline found herself aggressively planted onto her back, the hard wood of the floor a blunt reminder of their environment. Chastity gained the mounted position, her thick, thunderous leg sliding across Madeline’s body. Just as Madeline began to brace for the inevitable, Chastity’s arms grasped her head with startling force, pulling her face directly into the abundant expanse of the nun’s bosom. Light vanished. Air became a desperate commodity, and a sweet, sweaty purgatory enveloped her senses.

Madeline’s body convulsed instinctively, her training screaming at her to create space. Being smothered while in a mounted position was a precarious situation; it limited her vision, constricted her breathing, and severely hampered her ability to initiate escapes. It was a powerful position, one that demanded an equally disciplined response.

Panic would only tighten the trap. So she did not panic. Instead, Madeline’s hands moved with purpose. She immediately stopped fighting for the head position directly, a futile effort against Chastity’s considerable strength in that moment. Instead, her focus shifted to creating leverage elsewhere.

Madeline’s arms shot up, not to push Chastity’s head away directly, but to establish frames against her hips and bicep. Her left arm forcefully drove into Chastity’s hip bone, creating a diagonal structure designed to slightly elevate and unbalance the larger woman. Simultaneously, her right hand clamped down on Chastity’s right bicep, preventing her from posturing up or creating additional downward pressure. Her hips, despite the immense weight, began to bridge and shrimp, creating small, almost imperceptible movements to shift her body to one side, attempting to create an angle for an escape.

Her planted foot pressed into the floor as her hips bridged sharply upward, not in a wild attempt to throw her opponent off, but angled with intent. Her knee drew inward, disrupting the alignment of Chastity’s base just enough to create instability. The suffocation was real, a dizzying lack of oxygen accompanied by the overwhelming scent of Chastity’s body. Yet Madeline’s mind remained sharp. The goal was to survive the initial wave of the smother, create a sliver of space, and then hopefully escape. Chastity’s weight remained immense, but Madeline had weathered such storms before. A mere lack of air would not break her.

[BlackAkuma]

”Mayhaps I am.” Sister Chastity seemed to share in Madeline’s humor. As with most things so far, they seemed to be on a similar wavelength, though it would be impossible to be certain how much of that was genuine and how much of it was the nun adjusting her personality to fit the Briton’s. Surely, not all the cards had been placed on the table just yet. ”Though it might be charity on my part, considering what you will lose after Sister Lucia defeats you.”

It was a taunt, clearly, but Sister Chastity didn’t deliver it with a mocking tone. She said it like a fact, as if she were merely reciting the events in the next few pages of a story.

Whatever the case, Madeline would have to wait a while before she could retort. Her mouth was about to become quite occupied.

Some would scoff at a breast smother, and with good reason. Even in a place like LAW, few women had the size to make such a move truly dangerous. It had its place, of course, with men - and sometimes women - who were so smitten that they didn’t have the wherewithal to fight back, but against a seasoned wrestler, someone skilled and strong, it had no place. Usually.

As with many things, however, Sister Chastity was an exception. As her breasts descended on Madeline’s face, a perfect seal was created, and you only had to see the struggles from her foe to know as much. This wasn’t something you could escape by simply turning your head. No, everywhere the Briton’s face would turn, enveloping curves would be there to greet her - steamy, heated curves, deceptively delicious.

To her credit, she would not go gently into the night. She fought well from below, keeping Sister Chastity from making more of her position, canceling out moves and taking away options before she even attempted them. The changes were small, but meaningful, and they ensured that she would escape the velvety vice soon enough.

Instead of fighting her struggles, Sister Chastity sought to use them against Madeline. When the woman bridged, she abruptly threw herself to the side, trying to roll them over and switch positions. Her legs - those long, deadly legs would come up around the woman’s waist once again, locking in another body scissor, but this time there would be no kiss accompanying it. The turnaround would inevitably result in Madeline getting a quick wisps of air, but Sister Chastity would redouble her efforts and try to pull her foe deep into the cleft, looking to engulf all her features while she locked in one of her signature moves, what she called…

”The Vow of Silence.” Sister Chastity whispered as she began to ramp up the pressure. ”Well named, I am sure you will agree.”

[Lightman]

Do people still call out their moves?

The thought came to Madeline in a strained, half-formed way, dulled by the pressure enclosing her senses. Whatever Chastity had murmured was largely lost to her, smothered into near-inaudibility by the suffocating press that engulfed her face. A low, muffled grunt escaped in response, tinged with faint disapproval. Naming one’s move was hardly a sin, pun intended, but the odd theatricality of it, especially from someone who, last Madeline checked, was hardly a cape-wearing superheroine, felt…quaint.

Still, she could not deny that the name suited the moment.Madeline struggled, fighting against a seal that was, frankly, near perfect. The strength clamping her face was truly impressive, a testament to Chastity’s balanced approach to sculpting her body. It was easy for many women in this division to focus solely on the lower body, neglecting other muscle groups. But Chastity clearly embraced a more holistic, formidable physique. Good grips, too, Madeline noted, even through the haze. Her hands, surprisingly, felt powerful, anchoring Madeline firmly in place.

Oh, and speaking of the lower body…

There those fleshy traps came with a familiar, brutal embrace. Utilising Madeline’s own desperate bridge attempt, Chastity flawlessly executed her roll, her long thighs snapping shut around Madeline’s midsection with the enthusiasm of a long-lost friend’s hug – a particularly aggressive, bone-crushing hug at that. The grunts that followed from Madeline certainly didn’t fit the move’s poetic name, but she supposed Chastity wasn’t concerned with such semantic details. These weren’t the light, airy notes of a hymn, but the guttural sounds of a body pushed to its absolute limit.

Air came in scarce, filtered in shallow fragments through shifting peaks and valleys that never remained open long enough to be relied upon. This demanded composure. Panic would waste what little breath she could gather, and Madeline had long since trained that instinct out of herself. The hold around her midsection tightened once more, those powerful legs snapping shut with renewed intent, drawing her in with a crushing familiarity that bordered on oppressive.

She focused on micro-movements and subtle shifts. Her hips twisted, attempting to create a fractional space, a minute adjustment in the angles of their bodies. A shift of the hips. A slight turn through her core. Not enough to break free, but hopefully to keep the crazed zealot from sinking further, from entirely collapsing her lungs.

Despite the near-total envelopment, Madeline found a small, almost imperceptible space to wriggle, to flex her abdominal muscles. Her midsection, toned and strong, ground slightly against Chastity’s lower abs and crotch, a deliberate counter-pressure, a promise of resistance even when suffocated. Her core, a body part Madeline never neglected, was now her silent voice, pushing back against the supposed Vow of Silence. And her breasts would roll slightly against Chastity’s under-boob, initiating a full-body grind. Sister Chastity’s hold remains tight, though Madeline seeks to prove that it no longer remains unchallenged.

[BlackAkuma]

Sister Chastity would certainly agree that saying the name of her move out loud was an exercise in frivolity, but in her defense, she was a wrestling nun. A little theatricality was to be expected. She had to indulge.

And besides, it wasn’t as those indulgences came without relevant actions. As silly as the name might have been, the move itself was deadly effective, something that Madeline would surely attest to if she only had the air to speak it. Sister Chastity’s soft, pillowy breasts came over the woman’s face like a sheet, blotting out all hope, all air, all chance of escape.

Content, Sister Chastity settled and made herself comfortable, as comfortable as one could be on a wooden floor with a thrashing woman on top of you. She hummed to herself, filling the air with the sweet tones of some nameless hymn, echoing through her body and vibrating Madeline’s face. Her legs tensed, riding down her opponent’s struggles, as she targeted the same ribs she’d pulverized a minute or so go, grinding at them with her unyielding muscle.

”Yes, yes.” She let out deep, airy sighs as Madeline tried to work her way out of the hold, testing for weaknesses and finding none. ”Keep trying. Keep fighting.”

The friction between them became palpable, a growing heat that grew stronger with every moment. Madeline’s body was a work of art itself - so firm, so strong, yet so enticing. To have her so close was truly a rare gift, and one that Sister Chastity would not waste. While she was still intent on locking her foe down, other pursuits waxed steadily in her mind. Something darker, something hungrier.

As Madeline ground against, she began to grind back, picking up the pace and encouraging her foe to do the same. Her hips pushed upwards, pressing her most tender spot against the woman’s abs and rubbing along it, up and down, up and down, harder and harder. Unbidden moans began to slip from her lips, and she closed her eyes as a gentle rapture took hold.

”You feel absolutely exquisite, beloved.” She let out a mewling cry and thrust hard against Madeline’s midsection, with her body shaking at the pleasure. ”Sleep, now. I look forward to exploring this body of yours more when you wake.”

Despite her taunts, her body began to weaken as the pleasure took hold - not by a great deal, but enough to be noticeable. The grip at Madeline’s head lightened to a caress, and while the legs around her waist were still hardened steel, the pressure was lessening, more of an uncomfortable massage than abject agony.

[Lightman]

There had been an interview she once watched, years ago, back when she was a novice, fascinated by the complexities of LAW’s hentai division, still finding her footing in the world she now inhabited. A wrestler named Diana, she recalled. Another who favoured the legs, though her approach had been framed less as domination and more as discovery. She had spoken with disarming candour about the origins of her particular predilection. She had confessed to an early, almost unconscious habit of wrapping her legs around various objects, finding comfort, then a strange pleasure, in the pressure. It began with pillows, morphing into laundry bags, and eventually, people. A journey from innocent ritual to the explicit discovery of masturbation and orgasm, a secret delight that eventually led her into LAW. Habit was born, then it grew into instinct, before forming into identity.

Madeline had not thought of it in years. Yet here, pressed tight once more within the constricting force of Chastity’s signature, the memory resurfaced. Madeline suspected Chastity operated on a similar, if perhaps more overtly spiritualised, plane. The nun made no secret of her delight in Madeline’s body, her desire to hold it close, tightly. This, Madeline had no qualms with. The female form itself, she mused, was an intoxicating landscape, exquisite to touch, to meld with. Breasts mashing against breasts, legs tangling, lips connecting and hands roaming around the fine canvas, a symphony of the sensations.

Which only made it all the more perplexing to Madeline that someone so clearly enamoured with such feelings could simultaneously advocate for the destruction of the very division that celebrated and encouraged them. But such contradictions, she supposed, were a puzzle for a later time.

Chastity’s ecstatic moans, the forceful thrust of her hips, and the increasingly desperate whispers confirmed Madeline’s theory: Chastity loved her body. The nun’s grip on Madeline’s head, spurred by her pleasure, lightened to a caress, and the vice-like squeeze of her legs, though still formidable, was less intent on crushing every organ and bone out of her body. Even with her oxygen-deprived brain, Madeline theorised about the specific kinks of this enigma. Perhaps she might be able to figure this one out.

Taking advantage of the slackening pressure, Madeline subtly shifted her head. Instead of struggling futilely against the smother, she carefully angled her face, finding a small crevice of air, but more importantly, aligning her lips with the tantalising mound of a nipple beneath the thin fabric. She nuzzled it gently, creating the illusion of ongoing smother, yet in truth, she was engaged in a very different kind of attack. Her free hand, meanwhile, snaked upwards, finding the other breast, kneading it with a gentle, exploratory grip, searching for any tell-tale sign of heightened sensitivity.

Simultaneously, Madeline sank her midsection deeper into Chastity’s body, her abs, strong and defined, flexing and grinding along Chastity’s ignited crotch. She kept it slow, deliberate, sensual in the friction, designed to stoke the fires of pleasure even further. Her fingers, no longer merely holding, roamed along Chastity’s powerful thighs, the tips caressing past the soft skin to the hardened muscle beneath, from the quads to the hamstrings, and finally, provocatively, towards the glutes. Madeline was clearly not in a rush. She never did when it mattered most.

[BlackAkuma]

Sister Chastity did, indeed, love Madeline’s body. How could she not? While LAW had shortage of beautiful, bodacious women, few could boast a form as robust as the Briton’s. Her body was a wondrous fusion of strength and seduction, tempting and dangerous all at once. Sexy enough to drive any man wild, but also strong enough to make them regret coming near her, if she so chooses. What chance did Sister Chastity have in resisting her charms? She was only human.

Ostensibly.

Sister Chastity would’ve been content to merely enjoy Madeline’s body like this. After all, within her grasp, she seemed to have her foe dead-to-rights. Her legs were a steel trap, perfectly capable of crushing bones and taking the air away from her at a moment’s notice. What little she could hope to suck in was being blocked by her breasts. It was as close to a checkmate as she could ask for, and she could’ve been content to simply enjoy Madeline’s body as she waited for the inevitable.

It wasn’t as if this knockout would win the battle by itself. Perhaps, after Madeline was put to sleep, she would grab some of those ropes, tie her up, and they could continue their conversation in a more intimate way…

Intriguing thought. Wonderful thoughts. Thoughts that would not come to fruition. The attention to her breasts made that a fleeting thought, as Madeline’s lips sought out her tender nub through the thin material. The hand at her breast only confirmed those feelings, and then there were that hand on her thigh…

Sister Chastity shuddered as Madeline ground against her, and her hips rose up to meet her with perfect timing, drawing out every contact for maximum effect. Her hold seemed to weak with each passing moment, transforming from a dangerous, crushing embrace to something far more tender and intimate. Her hands ran through Madeline’s gossamer strands, and she breathed deep, savoring her foe’s scent.

”There, yes, right there…” Her hips twisted, finding just the right way to grind against Madeline for maximum pleasure. Her hands ran up the woman’s sides, nails dragging at her skin, hard enough to leave thin red lines in their wake.

[Lightman]

Madeline knew, in that moment, that she had her.

Not in the sense of domination, nor in a sense of decisive victory, but the subtle shift of Sister Chastity’s focus. Madeline felt it in the way the body beneath her softened, in the way those iron thighs and arms lost their singular purpose and eased just enough to give her room to work. It was as if she had found the right key for the right lock, slipping into an opening that had been invisible moments earlier.

Mind you, Madeline's idea was a long shot, certainly, but one that had struck its mark. The blonde nun didn't have to let Madeline have her way with her. Had Chastity chosen to reapply that crushing force, had she clamped down again with full intent, Madeline would have been put under without ceremony and left to whatever devious designs the zealous woman had prepared. But Chastity did not. She welcomed the moment. She surrendered precious leverage in favour of something else entirely.

It might be because whatever counted as “victory” was not as simple as an orgasm, nor a choke, nor a tap. The rules of Chastity’s mind were not written in any book Madeline had ever read.

Neither woman minded, not in the slightest. Madeline continued her focused work, her movements intentional rather than indulgent, guiding Chastity’s attention, her balance, her breathing. She maintained the work on the blonde’s breasts, the lips of the rose gently sucked and tugged upon the clothed teet. Her tongue lightly dabbed directly on the nipple, teasing and keeping the nun tilted off axis. One hand kneaded the other breast like a baker with dough, the palm having enough friction to rub along the other nipple. Even without what's happening downstairs, the brunette was confident in her abilities to make the blonde succumb to a messy ending. It's with the work paired in tandem that seemed to pour gasoline to an already blazing fire.

Chastity’s hips met Madeline’s abs with increasing urgency, grinding deeper and deeper, smearing more of her honey all over the taut abdomen. The enigmatic nun’s iron grip of the arms and legs slackened, submitting to carnal instinct, allowing Madeline more room to sink deeper still and build more friction. Though the crushing muscle resigned more into the layer of plump, Madeline still massaged deep for them with the tips of her fingers. From the split between the quad and hamstrings, to the buttcheeks that moulded in her hand like putty. The brunette obliged when Chastity found the right spot to hump on and she dared not do anything that distrupts the pace.

Nails dragged along Madeline's back, and the Briton responded with a harder grope of her breast. Even with the fabric that barricaded natural skin on skin, Madeline's lips moved as if she was trying to draw something out of it.

Had Madeline spoken, and not be busy with the work on that lovely breast, it would have been a single word. A command, rather than a plea, something that cut through the blurry border between combat and communion.

Release.

[BlackAkuma]

Sister Chastity met Madeline’s touches, eagerly and vigorously. It was all at once so clear to see why this woman was such a respected sexfighter - she manipulated the female form with a striking ease, working it like a musician with their instrument. She knew where to touch, where to put the pressure and where to hold back, with such fine precision that she might as well have had a manual to Sister Chastity’s body. The nun’s strength seemed to melt at her very touch.

”Oh, you are divine, rose.” Sister Chastity let out a long, breathy sigh after a particularly hard thrust of her hips, one that left her shuddering all over. ”Simply divine.”

Whatever restraint Sister Chastity had exercised earlier was rapidly fading as Madeline continued her lascivious work. It wasn’t any one touch or temptation that drove the nun wild, but the combined effort, as the Briton’s entire body seemed devoted to giving pleasure. Her hands worked with expect ease, massaging her plump breast and effortlessly stimulating her. Her hardened abs drove hard against her pussy, making the perfect surface to grind upon…

And that tongue…that tongue..

Harder, now. Faster, too. Madeline offered her body for Sister Chastity’s pleasure, and she eagerly accepted, driving against her with a feverish pace. Her honeyed notes echoed through the room and the scent of her growing lust filled the air, as her breath quickened. Her opponent could likely feel her heartbeat, thrumming away in her chest at a maddening pace.

She was close, so close, and when Madeline’s hands gripped tight, she might as well have been pressing a button. Sister Chastity’s back arched her, her head tilted back, and she let loose with a low, guttural moan that seemed utterly alien for her lips, dark and wild, as if some lewd beast were crying out from within her throat. She pressed against Madeline’s abs as the wetness spread and her hips bucked, smearing the viscous fluid along her abs, leaving them glistening and sticky.

For a moment, Sister Chastity’s body went rigid and her legs clamped down at Madeline’s waist with maddening pressure, giving her a flash of their full crushing power - but it would only be an instant, and in the next one she completely deflated, flopping back to the floor with her arms spread wide and a rapturous grin upon her face. With her eyes closed, she ran a lazy hand along Madeline’s side, gently tracing her curves.

”Amen.”

[Lightman]

Most opponents, no matter how composed they appeared, carried tells.

Small betrayals of desire or weakness that slipped through even the strongest façade. People were not machines. They had patterns, responses, instinctive reactions. Finding them was no different from identifying a boxer’s favoured hand or noticing the slight stiffness in a limb that had once been injured. Battles in LAW were physical, yes, but they were equally psychological. Even those who tried to hide their wants could not keep them veiled forever. Given enough time, everything revealed itself.

And once found, they could be used.

Sister Chastity was no different. She was seen as a holy storm of contradictions, a woman driven by faith yet ruled by the very human impulses she claimed to transcend. Her eccentricities, her fixations, her intensity, all of it became clearer the longer Madeline felt her reactions, mapped her responses, and sensed the spiraling loss of control. The thighs had been the first clue, then the second, then a cascade of many. Pieces of a puzzle fell into place before Madeline realised she had the full picture.

And once the picture was clear, the result was inevitable. It was only a matter of time before Chastity reached her limit. Madeline may not have known the precise second the nun would unravel, but she could feel the moment approaching, like tracking the pulse of an overtuned violin string.

When Chastity broke, it was with a sound that felt almost unearthly, a cry that seemed too raw, too unguarded, for the composed zealot she tried so hard to be. Her body buckled, shuddered, pressed tightly into Madeline’s, offering her slick surrender onto those abs before collapsing into a slackened sprawl as though the tension had been carved out of her entirely.

She could have done without those death traps crushing her again. The sudden flash of pressure around Madeline’s waist, a single crushing jolt, tore a surprised yelp from the Briton, one she could not have suppressed if she tried. It was a brief reminder of the danger Chastity posed, then it was gone, leaving only a panting, dazed nun on the floor.

Madeline allowed her a moment. She was content to let Chastity have her blissful silence, to come down from whatever private plane of ecstasy she had ascended to. But she was not content to remain wrapped in those steel traps a second longer.

She shifted, her voice soft but unmistakably amused. “Was that good, dear?”

Chastity’s response was little more than a dreamy murmur, which Madeline took as permission enough to take control of the moment. She carefully lifted Chastity’s legs, guiding them upward and away from her midsection, raising them until they formed a neat angle that kept them far from clamping shut again. The nun’s ankles were neatly crossed and locked, a detail that made Madeline’s brow twitch with a private smile. She rested the legs along one shoulder, steadying them with deliberate care. “Allow me.” Madeline said, her tone is velvet-soft, but her purpose is entirely practical.

Her hands travelled down toward the suspender clips that held Chastity’s stockings in place. The buckles were small, but Madeline worked them with ease, undoing each one in a tidy sequence. Her eyes stayed on Chastity’s face, studying every micro reaction with clinical precision. “I would like to feel them. For real.”

If Chastity allowed it, Madeline began to peel down one stocking at a measured pace, revealing pale flesh inch by inch, her touch calm, methodical, and entirely in control.

[BlackAkuma]

Sister Chastity laid beneath Madeline, coming down from the epic high she’d been brought to, quivering as the Briton lay on top of her. One advantage to have this match in a private setting instead of a raucous crowd was the two of them could better share their experience, and that was made clear, here and now. Sister Chastity’s heavy breaths echoed about the room, the wood creaking beneath with every powerful exhale. There was a stillness in the room that made the scene more intimate, as if they were apart from the world, their own little universe.

Madeline asked her question, but it might as well have been rhetorical. The blissful, pleased look on Sister Chastity’s face was enough to show her satisfaction, and her murmured words affirmed it. She was content to lay there for the moment, catching her breath and recovering, waiting for whatever her opponent would bring her way next. She would not have to wait long, as it happened.

Sister Chastity looked up, curious, as Madeline began to manipulate her legs, lifting them up into a comprising position. It was a daring move, to put her head between the nun’s most dangerous weapons. As good as that orgasm had been, it wasn’t as if the nun had been completely undone by it. She still had a good deal of power she could summon, and if the Briton thought the pain around her waist had been bad, then she had every reason to fear what those legs could do to her skull.

Sister Chastity could’ve kicked Madeline away. She could’ve tried to wrap her in another scissorhold. She could’ve done dozens of violent things, some of which would work, some of which wouldn’t, but none of them seemed to enter her mind as her opponent spoke. The spell had been woven well. She was entranced.

When Madeline made her intentions clear, something wild flashed across Sister Chastity’s face. Her legs flexed, showing off their destructive power for a heartbeat, and it looked as if she might pounce…but she didn’t. Instead, she quickly relaxed and let the woman have her way. ”By all means. I welcome your touch.”

She did not fight as one legging was removed, peeling off her sweaty skin, and she would not fight when the other was, either. She would lay there, compliant and still, save for her hands. She could not resist reaching up and caressing Madeline’s lovely face, gently stroking her skin.

”An interesting tactic, beloved. You certainly will not make me tell you where the key is with such gentle treatment.” Her toes curled. ”Not that I am complaining, mind you.”