Re: Nefretiri vs. Mistress Beatrix - A Rough Start
Posted: Fri Oct 09, 2026 8:29 pm
It definitely held that the view was nice down Nefretiri’s legs, giving her a fine view of the woman’s toned body, head to oh-so lovely toes. Beatrice would be lying if she said there wasn’t some attraction here, with her dealing with this objectively gorgeous, exotic woman. For someone like her, still trying to come to terms with how she felt about certain things, it gave her more than a little food for thought…
But she could process it later, when she had a few spare moments to think it through in private. For now, she focused on making the struggle believable, putting real distress out into the world. It must’ve worked well enough, too, because the referee was having a fit, acting like Beatrice’s life was on the line. She took a small amount of pride in that. If a person who hung around wrestlers and wrestling matches all day couldn't spot her out, she must’ve been doing something right.
It didn’t last forever, at least, with Nefretiri giving up at the four count and sparing them both an ending no one would’ve been satisfied with. Beatrice sagged in the corner, breathing heavy and weakly adjusting her cap, not wanting it to fall off. Not just yet.
She had only started to pull it out of the corner when Nefertiri shut that idea down outright, meeting her with the same simmering fury. Kicks now, stomps to the stomach, but ones that barely registered as love taps to Beatrice’s stomach. Credit where it was due, the woman had amazing control of her body, could exercise restraint in a way Beatrice had never encountered before. It was honestly a little more impressive than if she’d just used pure brute strength.
Most of the work here fell on Beatrice and she worked with it, ratcheting herself back with each hit, legs scrambling and arms flailing. She even threw in a few pathetic cries and gasp, enough to leave the nearby crowd gasping. More than anything, though, they were cheering, getting beyond the dominant conquer. A few pity boos came her way, but it sounded like they were getting into the display more than anything, which wasn’t too surprising, they’d come to see beautiful women beat each other up, after all, so this was all part of the plan.
But she could process it later, when she had a few spare moments to think it through in private. For now, she focused on making the struggle believable, putting real distress out into the world. It must’ve worked well enough, too, because the referee was having a fit, acting like Beatrice’s life was on the line. She took a small amount of pride in that. If a person who hung around wrestlers and wrestling matches all day couldn't spot her out, she must’ve been doing something right.
It didn’t last forever, at least, with Nefretiri giving up at the four count and sparing them both an ending no one would’ve been satisfied with. Beatrice sagged in the corner, breathing heavy and weakly adjusting her cap, not wanting it to fall off. Not just yet.
She had only started to pull it out of the corner when Nefertiri shut that idea down outright, meeting her with the same simmering fury. Kicks now, stomps to the stomach, but ones that barely registered as love taps to Beatrice’s stomach. Credit where it was due, the woman had amazing control of her body, could exercise restraint in a way Beatrice had never encountered before. It was honestly a little more impressive than if she’d just used pure brute strength.
Most of the work here fell on Beatrice and she worked with it, ratcheting herself back with each hit, legs scrambling and arms flailing. She even threw in a few pathetic cries and gasp, enough to leave the nearby crowd gasping. More than anything, though, they were cheering, getting beyond the dominant conquer. A few pity boos came her way, but it sounded like they were getting into the display more than anything, which wasn’t too surprising, they’d come to see beautiful women beat each other up, after all, so this was all part of the plan.