Trojan Horseplay – Storm’s Revenge

[hamish1024]

Storm’s whole body tensed with stress, shoulders hunched at the scrapping, and brief shrieking from behind her. Ugh, this was not going well at all. She was also riled at the fact at both her partner and victim had taken her choice of excuse to task.

“Well, what should I have gone with then?? Enthusiastic fucking that got out of hand??” she hissed back at Lyssa, exasperated.

Her rattled nerves were steadied somewhat at the sight of Lyssa seemingly back in control. The blue-haired girl had, eventually, managed to arrange things back to her advantage, sitting atop Wendy in a classic reverse facesit, with the floored woman’s arms pinned firmly under Lyssa’s legs. Lyssa looked smugly proud as she rode out the victim’s weakened struggles, enjoying the domineering feel of trapped face against her thong.

Lyssa was so confident now, she chanced an impression of Wendy to smoothe things over with the neighbour. “Ahh’m sorry, lady, it won’t happen again, sugar!” she called affirmingly, in the most insultingly bad approximation of a Southern accent imaginable. Storm’s jaw literally dropped at how awful it was. Literally no-one who was familiar with western speech, or who had functioning ears, would have been fooled. Fortunately for the Brits, Ms. Kikuchi was neither of those things, and the elderly Japanese seemed to trot away satisfied, if not exactly happy.

Storm let out a long sigh and slumped back against the door a little.

“Never improvise an accent again,” she said, shaking her head at her partner.

Lyssa grinned and replied in her grating faux-American, “Aww shucks honey, we was jus’ doing our yoga,” she smirked with an impish grin.

“Ugh. Right. Where the fuck were we with torturing this bitch? Is she, like, due some air soon?” Storm scratched her chin as she realised they’d been casually chatting with Wendy trapped in the firm facesit. “You’ve gotten her surprisingly quiet!” Crucially, Storm hadn’t actually seen that Wendy had been gagged, having been busy with the door whilst Lyssa was scrabbling to shove socks in her victim’s gob, so she didn’t realise just how badly the white-haired girl was suffering.

Lyssa, ever-mischievous, decided to keep the fact of Wendy’s mouthful of sock a secret for now. “Oh, come on Storm, are you doubting my face-sitting skill?” the blue-haired girl quipped with a raised eyebrow.

Storm wasn’t going to take the bait. Her partner didn’t need much encouragement to start gloating about, or planning, a brattish ass to the face as a prank, so the Scot stayed quiet. She wanted to focus on her disrupted revenge on Wendy, that was still far from sated.

“I still want this animal to fucking beg,” Storm said darkly as she walked over to Wendy’s pinned form. “Let her breathe a little.”

Lyssa complied, lifting her thong-clad ass up for the slightest of moments, freeing Wendy’s nose, but sitting back down before the sock gag became apparent. Meanwhile, Storm busied herself by setting up their victim for yet more pain. The brunette grabbed Wendy’s feet and began to set up a figure four leglock, spinning and crossing her legs, and then dropping to the mat, using her own legs to apply firm pressure in a well-executed hold.

“Let me know when you’re ready to grovel, Wendy,” the stoic Scot snarled at the smothered girl as she started the stretch.

[BlackAkuma]

Wendy thought this couldn't get much worse, that it couldn't be any more humiliating, and then she had to hear Lyssa’s Southern accent. Jesus, what a train wreck.

It wasn’t the first time she’d come across something like that. In fact, it seemed like someone would give her a bad Southern impression every two days, like clockwork. She’d just be in the line at the store, trying to get some groceries, and the cashier would pick up on her accent and try to imitate her twang, or God help her, butcher a Southern saying. No words could describe the absolute pain of a Japanese tween butchering Dolly Parton.

But Lyssa’s was so much worse. While she’d only known this bitch for a sum total of five minutes, if that, she was already proving to be one of the most irritating people Wendy had ever come across, and her little mannerisms were proving to be a big reason. She let out a long groan at her impression and jokes, as the two bitches yucked it up at her expense. If she could just get up, if she could just get her hands on this little blue bitch, she’d fold her in half and do things that would’ve made the beating she gave to Storm look like a light massage.

But she wasn’t in that position. Far from it. If anything, she was fading and fading fast, rapidly slipping out underneath the little hellion. Her words were getting distant, turning to whispers, and she could feel herself slipping into the darkness…

Wendy was dragged back all at once as Lyssa lifted her ass and air rushed to fill the empty space, flowing into her lungs so fast it almost felt like they could burst. She tried to cough, but the sock got in the way and caught in her throat, leaving her to gag on it as her tormentress sat back down. She let out a furious roar as the torture continued, now with a fresh supply of oxygen to prolong the pain.

To make matters worse, Storm got back into the action, focusing on her lower body as Lyssa continued to wreck havoc at the top. Wendy shook about in a futile effort to stop her legs from being twisted, but there was nothing much she could do as the Scot caught her, bent her around and put her in the classic move, testing her tends and sending red hot agony through her muscles. She flopped about, her muffled cries echoing through Lyssa’s body, and slapped on the mats like a wild woman, but none of it got her anywhere.

At least Lyssa had stopped with the impressions. She’d take a small mercy.

[hamish1024]

“Hmph, nothing smart to say, hmm?” Storm snarled as she gripped Wendy’s foot and began to apply thrusting pressure to the trapped girl’s crossed legs. Now that the neighbourly interruption was in their rearview, the Scot felt familiar anger bubble and swirl right back up, ready to find its outlet by beating on Wendy. Despite the fact that the hapless Southerner had already been stretched, smothered, slammed, not to mention smacked about like a human punching bag, Storm still felt like the bitch deserved more for what she had done. The backstage ambush had pushed Storm to near-breaking point, and she wanted to return the favour. All she was getting in the way of grovelling, though, were the same set of stubborn snarls, reinforcing Storm’s belief that her opponent was a simple savage.

“Why the fuck won’t you beg?” the brunette spat as the double teaming continued on. “Do you WANT your fuckin’ leg broken? Do you LIKE having your face wedged in Lyssa’s arse!?!?”

The blue-haired brat giggled knowingly as Storm vented her anger and intensified the submission hold. The smaller girl could feel the struggles of her seat beneath her barely-clad butt cheeks, sensing real, desperate pain now. The muffled anguish was made all the more delicious for Lyssa in the knowledge that Wendy was secretly gagged, and couldn’t beg even if she wanted to. She found it a delightful little prank, and it was fun for her to watch the frustrated Storm take it out on Wendy’s legs, in the prolonged and punishing figure four.

“Ohh, she’s too proud to submit… my smother will take the win,” Lyssa preened.

“Gah, no way, I fucking practiced this hold and everything,” Storm snarled. “She will break in my grip for sure…”

Storm ramped up the pressure even further, pushing a perverse amount of pain through Wendy’s leg, the intensity forcing another round of flapping from the victim.

“Ooh, you reckon that was a tap out? Lyssa, lift your ass a sec… I wanna hear if she’s finally ready to quit…”

Lyssa smirked and complied with her partner, leaning forward a little to break the smother, but still leaving Wendy’s head obscured, and with little chance of actually giving the verbal submission that would satisfy Storm.

[BlackAkuma]

No, Wendy did not, in fact, want her leg to get broken. Quite the opposite, to the surprise of no one. Storm was doing an annoying excellent job of applying pressure in the hold, using her power to amp it up in a way that the Backstage Bully had never experience before, despite having been in this hold more times than she could care to count. As much as she hated the notion, she had no choic but to do what the Scot wanted - to beg, to plead, before her legs got snapped like twigs.

Or, at least, she would’ve liked to do that. If only she could, you know, speak.

Wendy let out a hoarse groan as Storm continued to apply pressure. She was only just now starting to see Lyssa’s game - the bitch was keeping her from giving up, taking the choice out of her hands so her big, busty friend would keep ramping up the pressure. Honestly, she had to applaud the deviousness of it. Definitely something she would’ve done if their positions were swapped. But it was wee bit difficult to admire the artistry when she was on the receiving end.

Storm kept increasing the pressure, and Wendy broke into genuine begging, her muffled pleas vibrating through Lyssa’s body, trying to get out a single syllable. Storm seemed too far gone, however, and just kept ramping things up, applying more pressure, pushing her to the limits, no matter how much she cried, no matter how much she screamed…

Wendy tapped. And tapped. And tapped. She threw back her head and bucked about, shaking and shuddering, trying everything she could to get out some nonverbal communication. Enough, enough.

[hamish1024]

Storm paused, waiting eagerly as Lyssa lifted her ass a little. She really, really wanted to hear Wendy grovel, to feel the white-haired bitch’s remorse at ever having marked her for a beatdown. It had been fuelling her daydreams for the past few days, it was what her entire week of revenge planning had been focused on. She loosened the figure four and held her breath for the begging to begin.

Fucking nothing. Well, a few guttural grunts and desperate mat-slaps, resembling a confused and beaten animal. Absolutely NOTHING resembling the snivelling apology that Storm was clearly, clearly owed. The Scottish girl’s heart hardened as she realised she was to be denied.

“Och, how fucking stubborn ARE you, bitch?!” she screeched, starting the submission hold right back up to resume the torture of Wendy’s tired legs. “I had a pretty low opinion of you to begin with, but you’re clearly a dumb fucking animal,” the brunette gave a long, tired sigh. “Fine… Lyssa, you win, feel free to knock this bitch out,” Storm added grudgingly. She settled back to make sure the figure four was cruelly, clinically maintained, punishing Wendy for her perceived lack of penance.

“Hehe, looks like the victory goes to Lyssa with the smother,” the blue-haired brat giggled, giving her thong-clad ass a mischievous little wiggle in celebration, before slamming it right back down onto Wendy’s upturned face. The recipient of the reverse facesit would probably be glad she couldn’t see the incredibly smug grin playing across the smaller wrestler’s lips, as she realised she had successfully cheated her way to winning this little competition, at Wendy’s expense. She wouldn’t have much else to be glad about, though – Lyssa was going all out on the smother, now, so the face sit was getting rough. Lyssa rammed and ground her peachy posterior hard, working Wendy’s nose and mouth deep into her derriere, and angling her hips to ensure the gagged girl beneath her would be getting no breaths at all for the next couple of minutes.

Lyssa felt a tingle of excitement between her thighs as she watched her partner torture her enemy, cruelly and callously pressuring Wendy’s knee joint, with the victim jolting and squirming beneath Lyssa’s butt, silently screaming for a mercy that would never come. Lyssa, a natural sadist, found the whole setup mouth-wateringly erotic, and she felt herself getting a little wet as the smother wore on. She bit her lip and held it back as best she could… whilst Lyssa was not usually one to deny an impulse, she knew that she could have a LOT more fun when Wendy was finally out on the mats, and they could move things to the bedroom! Just had to wait for this bitch to go cold...

[BlackAkuma]

The answer to Storm’s question? Very damn stubborn. When Wendy wanted to be, she was about as immovable as your average mule and twice as unpleasant. She loathed both these bitches, not just for getting the jump on her with that bullshit setup, but for dominating her on her own turf and doing such an excellent job of it. She hated being controlled like this, but she absolutely hated the fact that she was taking notes in the back of her head for the next time she had the chance to do something like that to someone.

But, stubborn as she was, she wasn’t dumb enough to sacrifice her legs out of pride - she kind of needed those. She wouldn’t love to tell Storm whatever she wanted to hear if she could just get this fucking sock out of her mouth.

Wendy’s angered cries devolved into sorrowful groans, as Storm continued to twist her legs into knots, but as it turned out, that was the least of her problems. She was so far gone that she couldn't make everything out, but she heard a few keywords: ‘knock this bitch out’ stood out to her more than anything. She shook her head, squawked, tried her best to get a single syllable out, but there was nothing she could - nothing but lay there and watch as Lyssa’s ass came down like a guillotine.

This time, she dropped it and kept it in place, locked hard, ramming hard, and driving Wendy’s face deep between her cheeks. There was no air to steal, nothing to help keep her awake, just the constant pounding and the pain in her legs. She fought and twisted, tried her best to get free, but it was all for nothing. Her struggles grew weaker by the second, going from full-bodied spasms to lifeless twitches, petering out into nothing, until…

Until…

…

[hamish1024]

“She’s gone. Storm, she’s gone,” Lyssa cooed, as the prolonged ass smother culminated with Wendy’s writhing body spasming, and then falling limp, the muffled moans of dismay finally ceasing. It said something that Lyssa (not usually the sensible one) had to be the one to point this out, as Storm grunted her way through giving out the most gruelling leg lock she could, focused on fucking up Wendy’s leg.

“Oh. Right. Yeah, she’s out, isn’t she? Should probably stop.” Storm licked her lips absent-mindedly, and wiped a little sweat from her brow, before starting to untangle her shins from Wendy’s own horribly-stretched legs. “Congrats, you rode her better than I thought.” There was a rueful edge to the Scot’s voice, as she was clearly reluctant to end the torture. She was disappointed that Wendy hadn’t been degraded enough to give her an apology, and it showed.

Lyssa caught her partner’s tone, and decided not to own up to her mischief with the secret sock gag, in making sure Wendy took the smother rather than the submission. So, the little imp waited until Storm was hauling herself upright, before lifting her butt from Wendy’s flattened face, and used the opportunity to stealthily tug the black sock out of her mouth, without Storm realising what had happened. Lyssa loved getting away with things, and was not one to face the consequences of her own actions if she didn’t have to.

Still, she didn’t want her partner feeling sad. “Thanks… you’d think a self-styled facesit queen would take a smother a little better, but hey. Victory to us! But remember – there’s still the post match forfeit for this loser!” Lyssa got to her feet and gave Wendy’s frame a dismissive kick. “We’ve still got a loooong time left to make her beg! You can go first!”

Storm’s stoic face cracked into a grin as Lyssa talked up the prospects of torments to come, cheering up immensely. Her partner was right – just because Wendy hadn’t broken on the mats, didn’t mean she wouldn’t melt in the post-match punishment.

“Ach, you’re right. Lets get this bitch ready for round two. Bedroom’s that way, right?” the Scot smiled, and grabbed one of Wendy’s legs. Lyssa would grab the other, and they would both unceremoniously drag their defeated, limp victim off the mats, and across the floor, towards the bedroom door.

“She said she had a few surprises in store here, I wonder what… ooohhh!” Lyssa beamed in approval as they surveyed Wendy’s inner sanctum. The setup did not disappoint. Like the rest of her apartment, it was sleek and stylish, though the lighting was softer and more intimate. Like a hotel, it had been stripped of any personal effects, for a more professional look. Unlike a hotel, there were interesting-looking boxes on the shelves, which seemed to the Brits as if they would store all manner of toys.

Their eyes, though, were fixed mainly on the bed. Rope restraints dangled invitingly from the bedposts, meaning someone could be strapped down with a minimum of hassle. And in the centre, separate, loose tangle of black belting and fasteners. Lyssa’s face lit up as she recognised the toy.

“A smother harness? Oh my god, Wendy, you were planning on putting me in a smother harness!? You naughty, naughty girl!!” Lyssa cackled wickedly.

The pair dropped Wendy’s legs and moved to her arms, yanking her up roughly into a kneeling position. Lyssa would tug on the Southerner’s white hair harshly to hold her in place, whilst Storm would take a handful of Wendy’s tit, and give it a torturous twist, trying to jolt their victim back to full consciousness.

“We’re here, Wendy. Forfeit time. Any last requests before your punishment, loser??” Storm snarled as she looked down contemptuously at her captive.

“Harness her! Harness her!” Lyssa chanted softly in the background with her trademark smirk.

[BlackAkuma]

Wendy wasn’t the type to clean up or do much housekeeping, but she put extra effort into keeping her bedroom in shape. First and foremost, it was where she did most of her fetish videos, often putting them on the bed and working her subs over from there while she had an excellent camera angle to work with, so she needed the place looking halfway decent. She had low red lights to illuminate the room, giving it a dark vibe, while neon, heartshapes decorated the walls. A white shage carpet lined the floor, her dressers were long, with numerous toys strewn out across them. Paddles, whips, collars, handcuffs, ropes, and ,of course, the smother harness, with more items in the boxes. All the bondage essentials. There was even a smotherbox, tucked on the far side of the room.

But the crown jewel of the room was her bed. Wider than even a woman like her needed, it was perfect for play. Soft and welcoming, with thick black sheets and a mattress you could sink into, with bed posts that already had the ropes attached. The perfect setup for a facesitting queen.

Wendy was starting to stir as they pulled her along, vaguely aware of her surroundings and what was going on, enough that she wished she could stay unconscious. She was more than happy to just be dead weight for the pair, though, staying in her stupor as they dragged her along, right up until the moment someone twisted her tit.

”Ah, fuck, fuck!” She was jolted all the way awake in the worst possible way and immediately started thrashing around, coming back with a burst of life. ”Request? I got a fucking request.” She hissed as Storm’s fingers dug deep into her breast. ”Jump out the window!”

Still defiant and even more pissed than ever, Wendy tried to throw a few punches at Storm’s leg, though they were lacking any real bite, her body still weak from getting knocked out and all the damage.

[hamish1024]

Even after all that she had been through, Wendy was still rebellious, with a rough violence at odds with her homecoming-queen looks. And it still caught Storm by surprise – slightly – as she found her leg getting smacked by the white-haired woman. However, the blows were tellingly weak, with the brutal work-over finally taking a toll. Seeing the depth of Wendy’s animalistic resistance was quite educational, thought Storm. It was good to know what the woman was made of, if they did ever face off in a ring. Though, the entire point of this exercise was to teach Wendy the folly of messing with the Brits, so it probably wouldn’t come to that. This was going to be a lesson to remember.

As her leg was struck, Storm tutted, more disappointed than anything. The Scot sighed, and then clenched her fist, delivering a hard smack to the side of Wendy’s head, as payback. Lyssa’s harsh hairpull hold would ensure the punch didn’t knock poor Wendy over completely.

“Jump out out the window? Nahh, I’m not the one here with a fuckin’ death wish,” Storm snarled back. “And since you still can’t be trusted to behave, we’ll have to sort those fucking hands out.”

The brunette’s eyes had already alighted on the metal handcuffs laid prominently on one of Wendy’s shelves. She keenly stepped across the plush carpet to snatch them up, then returned, grabbing Wendy’s arms and forcing them behind her back, to lock the cuffs around the kneeling girl’s wrists with a satisfying click.

Lyssa was loving the scene, as Wendy’s prospects became ever worse. The blue-haired brat was keeping a rough hold of their captive, but her eyes were fixed longingly across the range of toys that adorned this seductively-lit bedroom. The little sadist was almost drooling in anticipation.

“Oh, I do love it when a bitch provides her own punishment. So thoughtful!” Lyssa cackled. “I mean, I was kinda looking forward to riding your face, but I think we can take a quick detour!”

Storm laughed softly to herself at her partner’s excitement. “Ah, maybe not that quick, aye?” she scoffed, as she started to undress her lower half. The big brunette kicked off her shoes and peeled her blue yoga pants off entirely, leaving her muscular legs and lovely, thong-clad butt on full display. She leant forward on the bed, with her back to Wendy and Lyssa, and picked up the smother harness with interest.

“Never used one of these things before,” she mused. “Lucky we have the perfect practice dummy! Shove her in, Lyssa!” Storm beamed, smacking her butt invitingly and holding the harness up around her waist.

Her partner would eagerly comply, dragging their kneeling, handcuffed plaything a few steps forward, to gleefully push Wendy’s face into Storm’s ass, and then busy herself with the harness straps, wrapping then around the victim’s head to make her unpleasant predicament that bit more permanent.

[BlackAkuma]

To the surprise of no one, Wendy wasn’t much of a morning person and was 66% more irritable than usual for an hour after she woke up. As it turned out, this effect applied to being knocked out as well, and was made even worse when she’d been knocked out by a smurf who’d broken into her apartment with the intention of humiliating and torturing her. Who’d have guessed?

When she came to, getting dragged back to awareness by having her tits squeezed, she didn’t come back in a pleasant mood or a begging mood or a mood that allowed anything besides violence, she struck out, not caring too much for the repercussions, and the repercussions came - a hard punch cracking her clean on the face. She’d known that Storm was strong, she’d gotten a good enough feel for her body to guess they were around the same level, but she got solid confirmation when the bitch’s fist hammered her, nearly knocking her right back out. She would’ve fallen flat again if not for the grip on her hair, and oh, was that a pleasant sensation.

Wendy was dazed for a few seconds and didn’t have much fight in her when Wendy came around and slapped her cuffs on. They were toys, of course - they had keys, but that was just for show. There was a latch on the inside of each silver bracelet that would’ve let her free with ease, but she opted not to use it - they would’ve either just put them back on her or smartened up enough to use rope, which was the exact last thing she wanted. At least this way, she wouldn’t be stuck if they opted to leave her.

By the time her senses fully returned, Storm had slipped out of her pants and put her ass on full display, letting it gleam in the lowlights. Wendy would concede that it was almost - almost - as good as her own, thick and plump and perfect for facesitting. Any other time, she would’ve been happy to have an ass like this in her bedroom. But right now, as she made her way to the bed and started working with the smother harness, it just filled her with dread.

[color=#ooooff]”No, no, no-”[/color] Her protests were cut off when Lyssa shoved her face deep into the Scotswoman’s cheeks, once more engulfing her in flesh and getting her deep. Wendy struggled to get in a breath, even one, as they worked with the harness and secured, practically gluing her Storm’s ass. Her groans turned to screams, echoing through her tomentress’ body.