A Professional Courtesy

[BlackAkuma]

God, Wendy was so glad they were filming this. She just hoped the lighting was good enough, because she wanted to capture what happened next.

For all the cat scratching, she and Neith weren’t all that different, at least not in the important ways. They both liked to be on top, liked to be in control, did their best work when they had someone beneath them, squirming and struggling and fighting for every breath. Wendy could respect that much, if nothing else, knowing the high you got whenever you plopped down for a seat on the face of someone who didn’t want it there. Best feeling in the world, as long as you weren’t on the business end.

But that meant she also knew how much she would hate - absolutely fucking loathe - having the opposite done to her. She knew that having it done to her first, in her own match, would have to suck doubly hard. She knew that it would drive a woman like Neith absolutely insane, as such, she was eagerly anticipating the look on the Egyptian’s face when she came up for air and the gravity of it all fell down on her.

Needless to say, she wasn’t disappointed.

Wendy chewed on her lip as Neith seethed, so angered that her reddened skin showed bright through her dark complexion. As much as she loved the tirade that came next, what made it even better was the moment that her opponent saw the marks on her skin. That indignant look was going to be a cherished memory for the rest of her life. ”Don’t worry, darling.” She purred and reached back to give her backside a firm slap, one that echoed throughout the room. ”I keep my ass nice and clean, so-”

Wendy wasn’t exactly sure what happened next. She’d closed her eyes, reveling in the moment, when something hard cracked her clean in the jaw. She spun about, full circle, and landed on the side of the bed with her blank eyes fixed to the ceiling. Gravity got the better of her a second later, and she slid off to the floor below, while her fumbling hands grabbed the bedsheet and pulled it along for the ride.

[HotWheels]

Maybe it was the buildup from her under-ass experience. Maybe it was the onset horror of seeing herself covered in markings she would not get rid of for weeks and without reddened skin. Maybe it was hearing Wendy call her darling and smack that all-swallowing ass of hers that Neith did not regard at all as clean no matter how inoffensive everything but the sweat had been. Whatever the motivation, Neith let loose with an accurate and vicious kick that would have made a taekwondo master proud, and she barely knew how to strike beyond a beginner's level.

In fact, it took her a second to realize that she had connected. Sure, she felt an impact against it, but she thought she might have hit Wendy in the shoulder or maybe clipped the headboard. It was only once she reeled the leg back in and sat up with her impassioned fury still going strong that she saw Wendy wrench awkwardly into a spin, teeter, and tumble from the bed. For a second, the goddess felt indignant that Wendy left the sight of her rage. Then the sheet was ripped unceremoniously out from under her, and she was thrown onto her back with a yelp.

After a blink at the ceiling, she growled and started to sit up before a bout of lightheadedness hit from the smother and her own blood-pressure-raising fury. She fell onto her back again before roughly throwing herself back to a seated position and sliding to the edge of the bed. Wendy lay below, a mess of sheet and limbs. Neith let out her most villainous heh that proved much weaker than it should have been. It was hard to get one's mojo back after being smothered in ass.

She paused. What was she thinking? "No it's not," she hissed, answering her own thoughts, as she planted her ass on the edge of the bed and threw both feet down at Wendy, one aimed at her face and one at her chest. "That's where you belong, you big-assed cow!"

[BlackAkuma]

Neith kicked her in the face.

Neith kicked her in the fucking face.

Even as Wendy laid on the floor, rubbing her head and rolling her tongue around to make sure all her teeth were in their designated spos, she still had a hard time processing it. If this had been in the wrestling ring, she might’ve seen that coming. Hell, in the wrestling ring, she would’ve been the first to do it. She would’ve battered Neith from pillar to post, slammed her up and down, dribbled that pretty little face of hers off the canvas like a basketball. In a real wrestling match, she could’ve laid waste to the so-called goddess in record time.

But here, in the bedroom, they were fighting on more equal footing, and Wendy thought she understood the mode they were operating under, but apparently not. Fine, then. If Neith wanted to throw hands, they could throw hands. All the cheap makeup in the world wouldn’t hide the bruises. There was always the chance that the clips store might deem it too violent, but at this point, she could stomach the risk.

Wendy started to sit up, only for a foot to come out of nowhere and hammer her back into the floor, pinning her under the sole. Another foot smacked into her chest, keeping her down and erasing any chances she had of getting up. Too much weight coming down in the worst way.

Wendy squirmed and struggled, but she was still too groggy from having her head rocked by the kick. For now, she was helpless on the floor, only able to look up at the ‘goddess’ on her throne. Oh, and throw a few choice insults her way. ”If you don’t get your big ass feet off my face…” She twisted to the side, making another effort to escape, only to flop back down. ”Off! Now!”

[HotWheels]

Wasn't this simpler? Wasn't this the natural state where the two of them belonged in the first place?

Neith thought so, as satisfaction again started to well in her as she lorded over Wendy from atop the edge of the bed and smushed her into the cold floor with both feet. This was the image the viewers needed, and Neith, despite feeling that blood was still thundering through her head, that aches were still panging her body, and that her face was still dirty from the contact, managed the naughtiest smile. Her posture straightened into something of a royal haughtiness, too. "Stay below me, bitch," Neith ordered, just as Wendy started to resist and talk about her "big ass feet."

Neith answered her first with a harsh shove from both feet, even after Wendy failed to rise on her own. "Then you keep your big ass on the ground!" To add to it, she shoved once more, thrusting the foot against the American bitch's face extra hard to flatten her against the floor. The mention of her big ass made Neith wipe her face once more with a hand, and in turn, the blood started boiling again. No, no, it was not good enough to just let Wendy stay underfoot, hardly suffering. The woman needed a goddess' punishment after daring to do such a thing to her.

So Neith, dispassionately, slid forward off of the bed to drop her ass right into Wendy's chest and stomach.

[BlackAkuma]

Wendy groaned and kicked her legs about, nearly kicking the bedside table down in her efforts as she thrashed about. This wasn’t the most painful position to be in, she could admit - for all her kvetching, Neith had soft feet, smooth and pleasing, and there were far worse things in the world that could’ve placed up against her cheeks.

No, what was more distressing than anything was just the situation itself. Wendy had spent no small amount of time knocking Neith off a pedestal, and now she’d climb back up on the damn thing, looking down on her from above with that regal face, as if she hadn't spent an extended stay between her cheeks only a moment ago.

Wendy had every intention of putting her back there, too. If only she could get off the floor.

She let out an indignant grunt as she was thrust back to the floor, smacking her head against the carpet, and that alone was enough to bring out the idea of using her teeth against Neith’s pretty little toes. She wouldn’t have time to develop that idea any more, though, as her opponent was moving on to her next punishment in short order.

Wendy shot up the moment Neith’s foot slipped away, and that proved to be her undoing. It meant that she was elevated when the Egyptian came crashing down, and all that weight hammered her back into the floor, making a moment that would’ve sucked regardless suck even harder. She croaked, her eyes bulged, her leg flopped, and all the life went out of her all at once, as she took the full weight right on the solar plexus, driving all the air clean out of her.

Gasping, wheezing, she feebly pushed at Neith’s thighs in a failed attempt to get her off, before she ran out of energy and her arms fell to the side, listless and lifeless. The only real sign of life at the moment was on her face, as she gritted her teeth and glared towards her rival, her lips curled in a seething snarl.

[HotWheels]

Neith should have considered that throwing herself off of the couch, even onto a thicker, softer figure like Wendy's, would hurt her, too. As she collided, hips hitting Wendy in the stomach and her knees hitting the floor that was only partially softened by the misplaced sheet, she grunted, cursed in Arabic, and had to stop long enough to rub her knees and crotch. But Wendy, she knew, took the far worse of the landing. The woman looked flattened, and that was just how Neith liked her American bitches who dared threaten her. Doubly so the ones that tried to sit on her face.

If not for the continued heat in her face and dizziness, she would have completely enjoyed sitting on top of Wendy and watching her shove and shove on Neith's thighs with no ability to get free nor get up. As it was, she got about ninety percent of the enjoyment from the situation, but that was enough for her to once more feel the haughtiness that made her so good at her job. When it became clear Wendy couldn't move her, Neith looked away long enough to glance at the top of the mattress to find the marker. She didn't see it there, but a glance to the right of Wendy's thigh revealed it tangled in the sheets. She retrieved it and turned back, holding it in front of her face. "I should mark on your clown face with this," she threatened, before tucking it into the edge of her peeled-down leotard where her breasts displayed Wendy's artwork.

Then, all at once, she struck. She tried to grab Wendy's hands and pin them down to the sides of the bitch's head, and at the same time, she threw her hips forward, trying to snag Wendy's face into the world's tightest schoolgirl pin.

[BlackAkuma]

Wendy sucked in deep breaths, trying to refill her lungs as she recovered from the butt drop she’d just taken. She’d done similar things to clients before, and she always wondered what the appeal was - taking all that weight like that had to utterly suck, and not in any kind of intimate way. Now that she was on the receiving end, she could safely say that she still didn’t get it - being down here, completely crushed by this haughty little bitch, was about the furthest thing she could picture from an erotic situation.

She was able to get control of her breathing after a moment, but that didn’t mean she was able to knock Neith off. The woman knew how to balance herself on a human body, a skill that they shared. Wendy couldn't always be stronger than her client, but if she could get on top, she knew just how to distribute her weight, and she could keep all but the burliest of men flat on their back. Her rival showed the same skilled - left, right, up, down, twisting, turning, it didn’t matter which way she wiggled, the bitch would not come off.

That didn’t stop Wendy from trying, but her efforts came to an abrupt stop when Neith threatened to mark her face. Leaving marks all over her body was one thing, you could always cover that up, but the face was another thing entirely. ”Bitch, mark my face and I swear to God, I’ll shove that goddamn marker so far up your narrow ass that-”

Wendy’s threats came to an end when Neith pinned her arms down and scooted up and captured her face in a schoolgirl pin. She went into a fit, kicking her legs about, bridging, trying everything she could to unseat the Egyptian, but none of it got her anywhere. She even threw her legs up in an attempt to kick her in the back, but her lack of flexibility had her coming up short. Wendy was well and truly trapped, and her face was wide open.

[HotWheels]

Aha. Was not too quick, was she? Neith figured she had every advantage, perhaps minus brute, masculine strength that truly was not an attractive trait, but she felt all too pleased with herself when she got the big bitch's wrists and slammed her hands down to the floor. From there, Neith, ballerina-like with her balance, had no issue sliding forward until crotch met with chin. Oh, that face looked so much prettier between her legs, and Neith, riding out the American's best attempt at being a rodeo bull, just looked down at her with a cockiness that was betrayed by the red splotches of skin on her face from the facesit and her own anger.

"I suppose I would miss all your little desperate pleas if I marked all over it, wouldn't I?", she rhetorically asked. It was an excuse. Even Neith was not vindictive enough to mark permanent marker all over someone's face...typically. One more facesit, and that rule might go out the window. "But how about I play with it a little?"

With that note raised, she pressed harder against Wendy's chin and at the same time, brought both legs together in a squeeze that fell short of the earlier bodyscissor given her folded legs. However, powerful thighs still framed every inch of Wendy's face, smushing it together into the most foolish facade so that only her eyes, nose, and mouth were still visible, plus a tuft of her hair. "There, piggy. Tell me how you feel about me."

[BlackAkuma]

That smile. That damn smile. That smile was what drove Wendy crazy more than anything else - the position, the wrestling, the taunting, she could ignore everything else. It wasn’t anything she didn’t dish out and take in the ring plenty of times, water off a duck’s back. But there was something about the way that Neith smiled down on her - that knowing, dominant, confident smile - that drove her absolutely up the wall.

Like she was in total control of the situation. Like this match was hers to win. Like she hadn't been trying to breath through her buttcheeks about a minute or so ago. She wanted nothing more than to slap that stupid smile off her face, but that wouldn’t be an option for a while, she could already tell.

For now, she had to lay there and endure. Though she had some small comfort when Neith said she wouldn’t mark her face, it was shortlived, as the Egyptian scooted forward and brought her legs in tight around her skull. There probably wasn’t a formal name for this kind of thing, but Wendy always called it a scissorsit - halfway between facesitting and scissoring. You got the crushing legs in there, and you got the position of a facesit. The only thing you missed out on was the smothering, but that was a fair trade off.

Yeah, she’d done it on plenty of guys. Yeah, she’d never had it done on her. Yeah, she hated that this bitch had beaten her to it.

Her face scrunched up into an accordion of her features, and a soft squeal escaped her puckered up lips, coming out without her permission. She made one last attempt at bridging out with her legs, before she let them flop back down, deciding to not waste any more energy.

Neith wanted to know what she thought of her? Okay. ”I think-” Wendy had to work to move her mouth properly like this, took some getting used to. ”I know you’re just some overhyped model who can’t wrestle for shit, you just get off on beating lame incels who get off on your trashy ass, if we were in a wrestling ring I’d smack the Sephora off your face, your outfit looks like it came off the rack from Party City, you’re mad ‘cause I just showed you what a real facesit looks like, you’re all looks, no talent, your tits are probably fake-”

She could and would go on like this for a while. Either until she ran out of breath or Neith stopped her.

[HotWheels]

That squeal was like an orgasmic pleasure to Neith's ears, nearly matched only by the sight of Wendy's little blandly pretty American features looking so incredibly foolish between her thighs. She could have likely spend the rest of the night sitting like this and never let Wendy rise, much like Wendy could have likely done the same with the facesit (but she didn't do much more than let that thought pass with frustrating speed through her mind). It was too good watching her struggle so helplessly. With her clients, her lengthy torture brought pleasure. Wendy would only know the torture, and in Neith's mind, that seemed perfect.

Even the woman's words could not touch her with her in the dominant position now. With her best patronizing look, Neith sarcastically nodded along with Wendy's words. It took a great deal of effort not to break into the same mocking, high-pitched muttering that ten year old children threw at each other. Instead, she let her talk...talk...talk, right up until she didn't. Releasing Wendy's wrists, Neith grabbed the little tuft of hair still visible between her thighs to steady Wendy's head and both scooted forward so her crotch was covering the bitch's mouth and her thighs tightened until just the slightest sliver of noes and eyes were still visible, just short of a full and proper smother.

"Jealousy does not look good on you...but I certainly do," she said, as she retrieved the marker, flashed a glance at the camera, and brought the cap of the marker down on that tiny visible part of Wendy's nose. After that and a solid wiggle that would ensure Wendy got the most intimate interaction with her smothering crotch, Neith took stock of her options. She was sitting on Wendy's breasts, so they were no option. Her legs would surely start kicking if Neith tried to mark on her thighs.

Oh. Oh, but she did have an option.

Leaning as far back as she could with pure mischief twinkling in her eyes, Neith tried to scoop up both of Wendy's legs and turn this more embarrassing pin into a proper one by lifting them both.