Katie’s Muscle Journey

by KatieTay

Chapter 1: Katie and Ryoko

As I enter the apartment I share with my boyfriend Jim, I pause for a while at the door. I notice that the door is ajar, and Jim’s shoes are outside. He must be home early from the gym. There’re some muffled sounds that I can hear even from the hallway.

“Jim?” I called out. “I’m back, honey. Are you there?”

There is no reply. I walk into the living room, and I see something I never thought I would see. Jim is sitting on the couch, with his pants down. What I am looking straight at now, though, is the woman standing in front of him.

She has short hair and is topless, wearing only a pair of jeans, and she is muscular. Not like a bodybuilder, or even the ripped physique of a fitness competitor, but extremely strong-looking. Her muscles are shapely and make her very curvy in a feminine way, but her back is ridged with impressive muscle development, as are her abs, which are six solid-looking sections. She is still relatively narrow-waisted. Her deltoids, which are flexed right now because she is holding up her arms in a double-bicep pose, are round lumps of solid flesh. Her bicep peaks can be seen from behind, like small tennis balls. In short, she is almost the perfect woman, even though her thighs cannot be seen.

She turns around and sees me, and gives me an arrogant smile. I take a few steps towards them, not knowing how to react.

She says to Jim, “So this is your girlfriend Katie? Hmm. She doesn’t look as strong as in that picture you have of her.”

The woman gestures towards something Jim is holding in his hand. I ignore his guilty expression, and look more closely. It looks like a photograph. Then I recognize it, when Jim sheepishly holds it up for me to see.

It is a photograph of the two of us, about five years ago, when I was 20. In the picture I’m doing a bicep flex while putting an arm around Jim’s shoulders. I’m wearing a sports bra. At that time I had just won an arm wrestling tournament, defeating a total of six other women. In the picture we both look proud and happy, and my arm looks nice and strong.

But since then I have not been to the gym as much, as I’ve become busier with a new job. I’ve lost quite a bit of weight since that time, and I look leaner now but also flabbier, not as toned as before. For a while Jim kept assuring me that he didn’t mind, and our sex still seemed just as good. But now… I can hardly believe what this looks like. “Jim,” I ask softly, “can you explain what this woman is doing here?”

But instead of Jim replying, the response comes from the woman, who walks slowly up to me and stands offensively close.

“My name is Ryoko,” she states. “Jim and I have been meeting each other at the gym for a few weeks now. Today, I decided to get to know him a little better, if you know what I mean. However, he seems very loyal to you, for some reason.”

Jim is pulling up his pants hurriedly as Ryoko speaks, and at this he looks up at me and nods eagerly, saying, “I didn’t want any of this, Katie!”

“That’s not what your erection is saying!” Ryoko smirks. She looks back at me and continues, “So, I decided to show him directly, why I am the better woman. I asked him to show me the best picture he had of you, and then I showed him my body and asked him to say who the better woman is. Well, I must admit I was impressed by your photograph. But it seems you aren’t as hot as you used to be.”

Slowly she raises her arms and flexes in front of me, staring at me challengingly. She is still wearing her heels — which is why I didn’t see them outside the door earlier. In them, she is able to look down on me with a few inches’ height advantage. Barefoot she is probably the same height as me, almost. Now it just adds to the overall effect she is having on me.

I take a deep breath to calm myself. Not only am I upset at this woman just coming in to cause trouble and go after my boyfriend as aggressively as this, I am also feeling a bit intimidated. As Ryoko flexes in front of me, her muscles moving seductively underneath her skin, I can see immediately that she is much sexier than I am now, and looks a lot stronger — in fact, even five years ago I may not have been a match for her.

Still, I cannot back down from this challenge. I step back and strip off my tank top quickly, and unhook my bra to stand topless too in my jeans. As Jim gapes in amazement, I step up to Ryoko until our nipples are almost touching, and throw my own arms up in the most powerful flex I can manage!

We hold the posedown for a few seconds, and then Ryoko laughs. I still have some lean muscles on my body, but it is a far cry both from what I used to look like, and what Ryoko looks like now. I lower my arms and hang my head. Without a doubt I have been crushed in this posedown.

Ryoko walks over to the slack-jawed Jim, who is now breathing more quickly at the sight he has just seen. She takes the photograph from his unresisting hand. Turning back to me, she holds it up for me to see, and then slowly tears it straight down the middle, separating the sections containing Jim and myself.

Her message is clear. I glare at her, fists clenched. She smirks and glares back, then points to the coffee table. I give a quick nod to accept her unspoken challenge.

No words are needed. We both step slowly to the coffee table, still holding each other’s gaze. I go down on one knee, on one side of the table, and she copies my pose. The coffee table is small and circular, so we end up using our right knees to brace it between us. Still with slow deliberate movements we raise our right arms and plant them on the table, and hook our thumbs, preparing to arm wrestle.

Still not saying a word, Ryoko raises her left hand and crooks a finger at Jim, to come over. He does, looking at the both of us in awe, obviously trying to drink in as much of this sight as possible. Then Ryoko speaks again.

“Jim will be the referee for this contest between us. The winner will give him a blowjob. During the match, he can choose to motivate us by letting whichever of us pleasure him with our hand, mouth, or any other part of the body. Now, get ready to be shamed in front of him!”

“The relationship we share will give me the strength to beat you in front of him and make sure you never come after him again!” I reply firmly, clenching her hand as hard as I can. I will not lose to a bitch like her!

Jim holds our hands and makes sure our starting position is equal, and then releases his hands to let us begin. We both lean forward and start pulling. My bicep bulges nice and round, and I feel encouraged even though it is obvious her muscles are bigger. So far I am keeping her even.

Then I look up into her eyes, and my heart sinks as I realize she is feeling much more relaxed than me, barely straining compared to me. She may be just toying with me. I press my lips together grimly, not letting her see my anxiety, and concentrate on just pulling as hard as I can, increasing my force until I am nearly using my full power. But she is matching me strength for strength. Our hands begin to tremble in the middle between us with the sheer force of our battle. I can see her starting to strain a little bit, but she still has that small mocking smile that I would dearly love to wipe off.

Meanwhile Jim has taken off his pants completely, and is starting to masturbate. He moves closer to us, and seems to hesitate for a moment.

“Choose me, choose me…” I urge him in my thoughts.

Yes! He’s moving towards me. Now he’s rubbing his cock against my shoulder and upper arm. I am even more heartened when I see the frustration enter Ryoko’s eyes. It feels so good against my sweaty skin… My arm begins to feel stronger, and with a loud grunt, I manage to gain on her a little bit, the first progress either of us has made in this match!

But she manages to counter my effort, and hold me only at a slight advantage. Looking up at Jim, she smiles in a sultry way and says, “Are you sure you won’t rather have this instead, Jim?” pointing to her larger and more defined arm muscles, now put on full display because of the angle. “You know you want it… come on, put it right here… come and find out how a really strong arm feels like…”

I can’t believe it, Jim is actually falling for that! He’s moved his cock away and is now pointing it at Ryoko… I can’t stand it, she’s smirking at me! I pour more strength into my arm and pull as hard as I can, but I make only a little bit more headway. This actually makes her showcase her bicep even more, and she angles her body to the side so that Jim has space to move in… and put his penis against the round, solid lump of muscle, beaded with sweat… it even has a vein showing slightly near the elbow…

I pull with all my might, but somehow I can’t give it my all. My spirit is being sapped by the sight before me, my boyfriend’s cock just inches away from me, so near yet so far. It’s as if he is giving strength to Ryoko instead of me, and widening the disparity between Ryoko and me. Because it’s true, I can feel it: Ryoko is definitely stronger than I am.

Ryoko’s face is rubbing against Jim’s stomach, and she moans and rubs her cheek against him, seeming to enjoy herself very much, as if she were not arm wrestling with me at all. She says, “Jim, move back. I’m going to beat your girlfriend now, and I need space.”

He complies. I brace myself for the effort that I can feel is gathering behind Ryoko’s hand. She takes a deep breath, and looks me straight in the eye as she begins to ramp up her effort. I look back, trying to keep my expression neutral, but my trembling arm gives away the fact that slowly she is overpowering me. The crushing force of her grip is starting to actually hurt my hand, and easily she pulls me back to the centre, losing me all the ground I gained. We stare at each other as the match continues, beads of sweat pooling visibly on our faces. I can feel the sweat drops on top of my upper lip, and also starting to run in rivulets down my chest.

Slowly, with excruciating slowness as if she is purposely prolonging it, Ryoko pulls my arm down steadily until I am more than halfway down. It’s only in movies that people can make a huge comeback from this situation. Maybe sometimes in real life but the person has to be extremely strong. As I am now, I simply cannot manage it against her.

Yet, with Jim watching, I cannot afford to give up. I refuse to give up, and I keep straining with all my might, trying to pull back up again. Jim approaches, holding his cock. I turn to him and open my mouth hungrily, but it is to Ryoko that he turns. Ryoko obligingly opens her mouth, and right in front of my eyes, Jim inserts his throbbing dick into her face, moving it in and out.

I give a sob, heartbroken. I cannot believe I am being so humiliated right now. Crying out, I give a jerk on Ryoko’s arm and try to use my body weight for leverage, but Ryoko simply holds me out and rides out my surge for the few seconds it lasts. Now my hand is mere inches away from the tabletop.

I call out, “Jim, please, give it to me… put it here, on my bicep… I will squeeze it hard as I pull up… please Jim, honey… I can do it… I can do it…”

Jim hesitates, and as I look up I see the conflicted look on his face. Then he pulls his cock out from Ryoko’s mouth, and she looks disappointed. I feel some hope again as he bends down and fits his cock snugly in the crook of my arm. I take a deep breath and flex my bicep as hard as I can, letting the full strain show on my face, not bothering to hide it. Ryoko snarls and says, “I will not let you do that, little Katie. Jim, she’s just going to disappoint you. I’ll show you!”

The seconds tick pass as Jim waits patiently, giving me a chance to prove myself. I am flexing with all my might, my vision blurs as my eyes are screwed almost shut, my muscles are burning with effort as I flex as hard as I’ve ever flexed. I keep my eyes fixed on Jim’s penis, nestled between my forearm and my bicep, and I want so much to curl my arm up around it, and let him feel the strength of my bicep directly on his cock…

I’m not sure but I think almost half a minute has passed. Ryoko has kept my arm down, and not let me move up even a little bit. Both our arms are trembling with effort, but my arm is burning with fatigue. This match has already lasted a few intense minutes. I’m so out of practice, and out of shape, I’m clearly not used to this level of exertion anymore. My arm fails to flex enough to squeeze Jim’s cock even a little. In fact she even pulls my arm down slightly, just a little bit.

Jim sighs and straightens up again, and my heart aches again. Why must I lose this way?

He goes over and runs his hands all over Ryoko’s muscular rippling body, now lubricated with sweat. Ryoko moans, especially when his hands run over her nipples. He begins to fondle her nipples. She shudders with pleasure all over, and I feel her strength flag slightly, but by now I am too tired to take any advantage of it. I am already barely holding on, with the last bits of my strength. My arm is really starting to hurt.

But Ryoko refuses to let me go. She pulls me down to within just an inch of defeat, and there she holds me, content to let me strain and strain, knowing that I will not give up until I really can give no more. She’s right. It’s hopeless, but I simply will not give up, despite the tears of pain running down my cheeks, despite the terrible growing pain in my arm and shoulder. I think I am crying because of the shame as well, it’s hard to tell.

When she is sure I am completely spent, and holding on only by sheer willpower, she grabs Jim’s cock with her left hand, and says, “Now, you are finished.”

With that she slams my hand down on the table, and pulls Jim’s cock towards her. A few quick thrusts inside her mouth is all it needs, Jim must have been holding it in for all this time. She’s not letting go of my hand. I am forced to watch helplessly while across the table this woman gives my boyfriend a victory blowjob.

As Jim staggers back, gasping and groaning, Ryoko turns back to me and parts her lips slightly, letting some of the cum drip out of the corners of her mouth. She plants her left palm behind my head and shoves my face forward to meet hers, and she forces me into a kiss. Her mouth forces my lips open, she invades my mouth with her tongue, and I can taste the salty familiar tang of Jim’s cum, but now mixed with the taste of Ryoko’s saliva. She forces me to taste this horrible combination for several long moments, before letting me go. I am gasping for air, breathless from the exertion and also from the kiss. She’s breathing hard too, but there is the flush of pleasure in her eyes. I slump, rubbing my sore right arm, tears of shame in my eyes. She has outmuscled me in front of Jim, and shamed me with her cum-covered kiss.

As she poses proudly for Jim, her muscular arms raised in victory, I open my mouth to speak.

“I’ll wrestle you.”

Ryoko’s eyes gleam, and she answers at once, “Yes, let’s. I look forward to crushing you totally. You will feel my mastery over you with your whole body. Then, after I beat you, I will make you cum, so that you know you’re just my slut, and you love losing to me. To top it off, your Jim will fuck me from behind while I’m on top of you, so that you know you have lost completely, as a woman.”

Jim looks guilty, but doesn’t say anything. I can tell that he likes what is happening, even if he feels guilty about what is happening to me. But this is not about him. I do not feel that much pain from the fact that he has effectively betrayed me. He cannot help being sexually turned on by all this. He’s just a weak male, unable to resist a woman like Ryoko who is everything he’s always wanted. I guess I used to be that woman too.

That’s why I am going to accept now. This is about Ryoko and me. Woman to woman. Muscle against muscle, will against will. If I cannot defeat Ryoko, then I do not deserve Jim in the first place.

We stand up, and we strip off our jeans, Ryoko kicks off her heels as well. She’s wearing a pair of thongs, which she unhesitatingly strips off too. I match her by stripping off my panties, so we’re both completely naked. Now I have the chance to see her legs. They’re sleek and well-muscles, like dancer’s legs. My legs are less muscular now, and look a bit fatter and less defined. I still have a nice calf bulge, but so does she. We move forward to compare legs, and we parade them in front of Jim.

“Come on, Jim darling, tell us, who has the better sexier legs?” Ryoko says.

“Um…” Jim looks clearly uncomfortable, but in the end avoids my pleading look and mumbles, “You, Ryoko.”

“That’s right, and you’ll get your reward after I beat this weak girl and become your new girlfriend. You’re looking forward to that, aren’t you?” Ryoko says, reaching over to tilt his face with her hand. I reach up and slap her hand away angrily. We both glare at each other, and bump chests.

“Titfight,” she says, and that is all the signal we need — we put our hands behind our backs, to throw our breasts out, and begin bumping and crashing them together, sometimes swiping from side to side. I used to be proud of my perfectly shaped breasts, but they’ve grown smaller over the years and less firm. Ryoko’s are larger and firmer. Within a several exchanges I am gasping with pain from the friction on my sensitive nipples, and on the impact from each breast bump she is dealing me. We bump harder and harder, and she is grunting with the effort, but she doesn’t seem as hurt as me. Some minutes have passed, I don’t know how long, but I finally have to step back, avoiding her breast attack, my chest heaving as I gulp for air and my hands coming up to cover my sore nipples and breasts. I’ve lost this one too… it’s so embarrassing…

“You’re not woman enough for me!” Ryoko screams, thrusting her arms up again in victory. Jim moans and begins rubbing himself. The sight of our struggle is apparently the sexiest thing he’s seen in a long time, because despite his refractory period he’s getting hard again.

My heart fills with rage towards this woman. Giving vent to a scream of anger, I step forward, raising my arms too. Our hands make contact, and we eager clasp fingers, gripping each other’s hands hard. Our arms and bodies begin to tremble as we engage in a test of strength.

We press our foreheads together as we push, channelling all our strength into this contest. Her full power is incredible… My arms are really feeling the strain, especially my tired right arm. Oh no… it buckles. My right arm was just too tired. She’s not showing me any mercy, she’s surging forward full force… my body is now bent awkwardly, my right arm unable to match the strength of her left and unable to straighten. She’s pushing it out and to the side, so I can’t use it fully now.

My left arm is not so good at muscular power, but more for endurance. Now it’s being tested to the limit. Her right arm is a bit tired too, I wonder if I can turn the tables on her. I have to… Jim is watching us wrestle… I must show my strength to him.

We are frozen in position for what seems like long minutes, with me putting all of my remaining energy and strength into this contest, resisting Ryoko with all my might. Every muscle on our body must be sharply defined to the watching Jim, but I cannot spare much attention to look, I can only catch glimpses of the muscles standing out on the body parts I can see. Ryoko’s right arm is like a pillar of strength. My left arm is starting to shake. I will myself to ignore the pain in both my arms, and concentrate on pushing. It is no use. I can feel myself weakening, my strength draining away. Ryoko is overpowering me slowly but surely. My left arm has just given way, and it’s slowly and shakily being forced downwards too. Now Ryoko is leaning forward and pressing her chest against mine, bending me backwards. I bend back as far as I can, but I’m not very flexible. Soon I cannot help my knees buckling, and I start to sink down before her.

I’m now down to one knee, her hands are holding mine down, it’s hopeless, she’s too strong for me. She kicks at my upright leg until I am forced to go down on that knee as well. Now she’s clearly in a position of dominance over me. She leans over, and pushes hard. My wrists are being bent, they hurt! It’s so painful…!

She is telling me to submit. Never! I must not… not in front of Jim like this, and not to her!

“No!” I say through gritted teeth.

“You have no choice!” she grates out, and jerks downwards, letting me feel her crushing force. I scream once in pain, and my hands are pressed all the way down to my shoulder level. She’s now bent over almost double, her face near mine.


“N… No!” I gasp out, tears starting to flow out of my eyes.

She invades my mouth with a kiss again. I try to bite her, but she growls and bites back, causing me more pain than I can cause her, so that I try to break off the agonizing kiss, shaking my head side to side. But I cannot shake her, and she completely violates my mouth before raising her head and suddenly twisting to the side, catching me in a headlock.

Quickly her weight forces me down onto the floor, and I can’t break out of this headlock. She’s squeezing so hard with her left arm, I can feel all the hard muscles all along it. I feel as if I’m blacking out, she’s cutting off my air supply…

I must have blacked out for an instant, because now she’s released the headlock and has me pinned to the floor. She’s locked her hands with mine again, and is pressing them on the floor. I thrash around with my legs, but very quickly she locks her legs around mine in a grapevine. She is not only strong, but also an expert wrestler it seems. I’m completely outmatched.

She has me pinned helplessly. As her legs stretch mine, I grit my teeth, determined not to cry out in pain. The effort makes sweat break out all over my face. My suffering is plain for her and Jim to see as my mouth opens in a soundless scream, and I shake all over underneath her, but still I am not screaming or crying out. The pain is building and building…

“Count, Jim!” I hear her say. Opening my eyes, I look straight into her face, as Jim begins to count to ten. The pain cripples my efforts to try and power my shoulders off the floor, but even if she had not slapped on the grapevine, I think I would still be too weak compared to her to do it. I think she knows it too, she is grinning down at me as Jim finishes a slow count to ten. I have not been able to lift my hands or shoulders even a little bit off the floor.

“I have beaten you at wrestling,” she states. I cannot deny it. “Now I will make your defeat final. I will make you cum.”

She releases the grapevine and shifts herself so that our mounds are touching, and she angles her pelvis so that our clits make contact. Her legs twine around mine silkily as she starts to hump me, clitoris against clitoris, sex against sex. I close my eyes and try to resist, willing myself not to cum, but the stimulation and the struggle have made me very wet. My body is betraying me. Ryoko is wet too, she must be feeling so turned on at dominating me so completely, and yet I am unable to make her cum first. I look away and close my eyes as my body shudders its surrender under her, the spasms of unwanted pleasure making my body jerk back and forth like a marionette under her control.

She rises up onto her knees, still on top of me, and slowly flexes her arms, clearly savouring the moment. I am helpless underneath her. My spirit has been broken.

Ryoko lowers herself over me again, on all fours. Looking into my eyes, she says, “Submit.”

I bite my lip, and close my eyes. I feel a stinging pain. She’s slapped me. “Submit.”

“I submit.” I have lost. I feel it now. I have admitted defeat inside myself.

“Who’s the better woman?”

“You are.”


“You are the better woman.”

“Tell Jim who is the stronger, sexier and superior woman here.”

“Ryoko is the stronger, sexier and superior woman.” I am really crying now, but my voice comes out as steadily as I can make it.

Ryoko groans as Jim takes her doggy-style, grabbing her breasts and fiddling with her nipples as he urgently penetrates her with his shaft. Throughout the whole session, she and I never break our stare, except when I blink the tears away and when she blinks sweat out of her eyes. When Jim finally reaches a long shuddering orgasm inside Ryoko and collapses to the side, it’s as if he doesn’t exist to us, that the fact of sex with him serves only to cement Ryoko’s victory over me. Ryoko whispers to me now, still not looking away, “You will want a rematch.”

“Yes… I want a rematch.”

“You can have one only when you are strong enough to challenge me. Because the next time you lose to me again, you will lose forever. I will keep Jim. More importantly, you and I will both know, once and for all, that I will always be the better woman. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand.”

“I will let you challenge me again. But you will not win. I will train too, in the meantime, and stay ahead of you.”

“I’ll train harder than you, and become stronger than you.”

“You can dream on. In the meantime, your Jim is mine.”

With that, she slides off me, and carries Jim in her arms easily, struggling only a little bit. Looking down at me one last time, she walks off with my boyfriend into the bedroom, to fuck his brains out even more, while I am left to slowly recover from my utter humiliation and complete defeat.

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Katie Does Sex Wrestling

by KatieTay

[This story is set in TConcord18’s Sex Wrestling League. My character Katie Tay was talent-scouted by a recruiter, and is debuting.]


Katie looked up at the clock. Just 10 minutes to go before the match. She finished her warm-up stretching routine and got to her feet.

“Here it goes, Katie,” she told herself under her breath. “Start strong, finish strong.”

Jessie hadn’t been able to make it, but she knew Penny would be in the crowd somewhere. She had been absolutely titillated at the news that such a league even existed. “Is this for real? Is this some kind of stupid prank?” she had kept asking.

Then they had seen the videos. And then they had been given tickets to a live match. It was exactly like a pro-wrestling show, except that none of the three had ever been to one, but it matched what they knew from Youtube videos — but bigger. And they had watched the matches, fascinated at this explosive mixture of physical combat and sexual prowess.

Katie particularly remembered the match between some guy called “Rob the Rocket” and a thick-bodied, extremely strong-looking woman called “Jersey Kaitlyn”. Rob was rather unfortunately named, Katie had thought at the time, his moniker implying that he would cum like a rocket, but to her surprise he had taken the victory in an intense match that left Katie flushed and aroused. Jessie and Penny had shown similar reactions.

Katie had been left with the thought that she wouldn’t mind tussling with Kaitlyn, to try her strength. She also wondered at the way the Rocket had gained the victory — using his cock to pump Kaitlyn’s pussy into an orgasm. She had wondered at the time if she would react similarly, were she put into such a situation.

“Well, time to find out,” she muttered. 5 minutes to go.

She picked up the robe — really more of a cape — that she had been given. The league manager Ms. Wallace had told her that they would want to work the Asian angle because, “I’m really sorry about any sensitivity issues this raises, but, being Asian in this business is a gimmick.” She had seemed quite apologetic about that. Katie had shrugged and acquiesced.

So this robe was red with vaguely Chinese designs in gold all over it. Underneath, Katie was well-oiled — when she checked herself in the mirror she had felt impressed despite herself. She looked totally killer. The oil increased her muscle definition several times over.

Her opponent would be a guy who already had a few matches under his belt — some bald former trucker with a big beard and a beer belly, going by the name of “Rough Rider Ralph”. Certainly a very evocative name, Katie thought, and quite appropriate for the League.

The other girls in the locker room, wanting to give the Chinese muscle girl in their midst some tips for her debut match, had told Katie that Ralph was a rather gentle and soft-spoken man outside, but became savage and bestial in the ring.

“Watch out for his nipple clutches,” Katie had been warned. “He presses really hard — gentle is one thing he’s not, when he’s in the ring with us! But he does know how to work nipples, for sure!”

This made Katie a little anxious. Her large brown nipples had always been rather sensitive. She sometimes could cum with nipple stimulation alone. Katie hoped they wouldn’t be a liability — Penny and Jessie, bless their hearts, had done their best to prepare her for the match, but they’d been too busy to give her more than a session of training every week.

The usher poked his head in. “Ok, a couple of minutes — you’re up!”

Katie put on the robe and held it around her, her heart beating. The pay packet for this debut appearance was quite attractive in itself, but she wasn’t hard up for the cash — it was the thrill of the impending struggle that excited her.

“After Ryoko, how hard can this guy be?” she asked herself rhetorically. She knew that her ex beau, Jim, was certainly no comparison to the specimens of manhood who strode these halls, but Ryoko, the nemesis of her life for the past year, had been the equal or superior of almost any man.

A stereotypical gong sound was played to herald her arrival as she appeared on the stage. Katie rolled her eyes a little — and then it was showtime, as she strode down the ramp, trying to look as mysterious and as Oriental as possible, while the announcer’s voice boomed:

“And approaching the ring, we have a new face in the SWL — hailing from distant China, she is a real dragon lady, an amazing Asian Amazon — THE STEEL BUTTERFLY, KATIE TAY!”

On cue, Katie let the robe fall from her shoulders — and she was pleasantly gratified to hear the gasps and the impressed cries of “my god she’s ripped” and “holy smokes those muscles”. She threw up her arms in graceful arches over her head like a figure athlete and displayed her nude physique, keeping a confident smile on her face.

“I wish that Ms. Wallace would pay attention when I tell her I’m not actually from China,” she thought, while the audience yelled their appreciation for her, probably unused to seeing a physique like hers on an Asian woman. “There’s a limit to how much ‘exotic Asian woman’ crap I can take.”

But she was quite pleased by the crowd reaction. She had steeled herself to receive some unflattering responses, from people who might have thought she was too muscular — but clearly, this crowd was used to seeing good healthy female physiques, and was really able to appreciate hers. She had been told as much in the locker room by the other female wrestlers as they admired her physique, but she had thought they were only trying to put the new girl at her ease.

And she noticed then that Ralph was already in the arena, but not yet in the ring. He was standing just outside, his hands on the apron, and he was staring at her open-mouthed. He had obviously not been given any idea in advance about the type of woman he’d be facing, and he had probably been expecting a typically petite Asian chick. Katie couldn’t help smirking at the thought.

Then he recovered himself, and keeping his eyes fixed on Katie in a smouldering glare, he climbed into the ring. Then it was Katie’s turned to freeze in awe. They had warned her he was well-endowed, but seeing it in the flesh, so to speak, was a different experience. It was already coming erect, and she estimated that at full length it would be about eight inches, and with a very impressive thickness.

“It’s going to be painful,” she thought. Then she shook her head a little. “The bigger they are… the easier to stroke,” she reminded herself.

His build was also a solid beef-eating American trucker’s build — thick of shoulder and girth. He had a belly, and no visible abs, but as they paced the outer edges of the ring in a circle, eyeing each other, Katie saw that nothing wobbled. Ralph was packing some serious muscle underneath all that fat. She began to feel worried.

“I hope I’m strong enough to beat him,” she thought.

She recalled what she had heard. 3 wins, 4 losses. That didn’t seem so impressive, but when compared with the records of the other male wrestlers, it was actually not bad. It seemed that in the SWL, the women generally did better. This was what Katie had more or less expected — with a sexy woman who knew what she was doing, in Katie’s experience, getting men to cum was nothing very difficult at all — in fact, the woman need not even be particularly attractive, sometimes. The converse was usually that men hardly knew how to properly pleasure women. The SWL men would be more skilled than most, but that was hardly saying much. Still, 3 wins and 4 quite even matches, from what she had been told, meant that he at least had considerable skill in this area.

And even now, Katie felt somehow drawn to his animalistic, rugged charm. He had a few tattoos on his upper arms, and as he climbed onto the turnbuckle to flex for the crowd, they rippled and moved in tandem with his muscles. Katie watched with a little bit of trepidation — those were big solid shoulders. Idly the thought came that she should consider getting some floral tattoos on her own arms as well — they’d look nice when she flexed.

Then he came down and stomped towards her, and flexed at her in the middle of the ring in a clear challenge. “No muscle broad’s gonna take me!” he roared, to the general approbation of the men in the crowd. Higher-pitched voices booed him down, and Katie was sure Penny’s was among them. She couldn’t see her best friend in the crowd — it was huge, bigger than the TNA crowds on TV.

Well, that kind of statement could only have one answer from her. She stepped forward and matched Ralph flex for flex. “Let’s see what you have under all that flab!” she yelled, flexing her arms hard.

They stepped closer together, baring their teeth at each other, and the referee quickly inserted himself in the middle, pushing them apart. He seemed used to having to separate two naked men and women with his hands, and Katie stepped back with the referee’s hand pushing at her chest, a bit nonplussed at the lack of self-consciousness. She supposed she would have to get used to it.

Ralph backed away, glowering, with his body set in a posture of rough and ready belligerence, as the announcer prattled on.

“This match is set for the best of 3 falls — a fall is awarded for a submission, 3-count pin or forced orgasm. No fall may be duplicated by each wrestler — this means a wrestler must win with 2 different victory types. There will be a 2-minute break in between each round. The winner will have his or her choice of forfeits for the loser.”

The referee held up a huge 8-inch strapon at that last statement, and Katie looked at it, impressed. If she won, she’d get the option to use it. If Ralph won… from the looks of things, he wouldn’t need anything like that.

“Alright, you both good to go? Ok — may the best one win, and good luck!” the referee waved them on.

“I’m going to fuck your hard ass raw and bloody, muscle bitch,” Ralph snarled as he dropped into a crouch. “Think you’re all tough, do ya? You’ll beg for my man-meat by the time I’m done with ya.”

Before Katie could come up with a good rejoinder, the bell rang.


Immediately Ralph charged her, making a grab for her waist. Katie backpedalled frantically, unused to this level of aggression from a male opponent. She wondered again if she shouldn’t have tried to get some training in from a male wrestler, but she’d felt shy about approaching any of them.

Ralph’s lunge fell just short, and Katie reacted quickly, seeing her chance. She made a grab for Ralph’s neck, but his arms came up quickly to fend her off, and they found themselves locked in a grapple, their arms entwined. Quickly, Katie braced her feet to push.

She groaned. Ralph was strong! And he had already begun stepping forward, so he had momentum. Despite her best efforts, she was pushed back several steps before her footing stabilized.

“COME ON KATIE! PUSH HIM BACK!” came a familiar voice screaming shrilly. That’s Penny, Katie thought. She gritted her teeth, unwilling to show weakness in this public match, but she was forced back another trembling step. She was almost against the turnbuckle.

With a long low grunt, she began to push back with all her might, stopping Ralph’s progress. She held him even for a long minute, straining against his manly strength. Then, he broke the tussle, flinging their arms down and out and stepping back to gain space. He was breathing heavily, but so was she.

He turned around and raised his arms, giving a roar to claim victory in this strength test, and the male audience members cheered him on: “Yeah!” “Give it to that muscle-bound bitch!” “Show her what power is!”

Katie gritted her teeth. Her self-consciousness disappeared. This… man! This big brute of a man hadn’t beaten her, but he was acting as if he had!

Abandoning all thoughts of being sneaky and tactical — that had never been her strong suit anyway — she strode forward to bump chests with him just as he turned around. Her firm breasts were not large — and with her training regimen they were of only modest size — but her pectoral muscles made up for the lost volume. He was surprised by her aggressiveness, and took a few steps back, bemused.

Katie then raised her arms and put a foot forward, arching her back, opening her palms in invitation. She made sure to flare out her impressive lats. The crowd reacted as expected — pleasant surprise that she was challenging him to a strength test.

Ralph couldn’t very well back down from this. Hesitating only a moment, he stepped in and laced his fingers with Katie, bracing himself as well.

“You just bit off more than you can chew, little Asian bitch,” he growled in her ear.

“I’ll show you just what real female muscle can do,” she growled back in response.

Their bodies jerked as they begun. Katie rarely lost any strength contests with women anymore — she had trained herself past the level of even dedicated athletes like her former enemies. She could outmuscle even most men she met.

Ralph was the real deal, Katie soon found out. He had the solid no-nonsense build of a powerlifter, and it soon felt as if he had the strength of one as well. The force they put out gradually ramped up, until Katie was nearly at her strength limit. But Ralph still seemed to have a bit more to give.

“Oh, rats — he really is fucking strong,” Katie thought. “No… can’t lose to him! I have to push harder!”

Her wrists began to bend. The women in the arena were beginning to start a chant for her. “Ka-TIE! Ka-TIE! Ka-TIE!” Penny had probably been the one to start the chant, but it caught on. It sounded as though about half the crowd was doing it.

It heartened her, and made her more frantic to win. She couldn’t let down all these people cheering her on! But Ralph’s strength was immense — her arms were trembling and starting to bend a little at the elbows. His face showed his knowledge that he was getting the upper hand, as he bared his teeth at her in a feral grin.

“You’re going down!” he roared in her face, as he gave a surge of power.

Inexorably, Katie felt herself driven onto one knee. The cheering and screaming of her name increased in intensity and was now interspersed with various cries of “Come on! Flex it! Push back!” She was now at a marked disadvantage, trying to hold back his downward pressure. His traps bulged as he pushed relentlessly down upon her.

Worse still, his cock slowly came erect, as the sensuality of their struggle resulted in a visible sign of his arousal. This was good, from the perspective of her match prospects — she could maybe turn that against him later on. But at that moment, it seemed an insult added onto injury — his penis head slowly approached her face, the one-eyed snake seeming to leer at her in her posture of subjugation, on one knee before a stronger male.

“No… no!” She shook her head wildly, causing droplets of sweat to fly out onto the mat. She refused to give up. She had unknowingly vocalized her denial, and by sheer happenstance it was in response to the referee who had just asked her if she was going to submit. But it was in fact a more general statement of denial — and it looked to be futile denial. Ralph was clearly winning the strength test.

Katie refused to give up, despite the growing burning sensation in her shoulders and arms. “Ryoko was worse than this,” she told herself. “Keep on… keep pushing… the pain’s not real… keep going…”

And then, almost imperceptibly, Ralph’s pressure began to flag! Katie opened her eyes and looked up hopefully. Ralph was sucking in air through his teeth, and heaving huge breaths. Sweat covered his bald pate and dotted every inch of his bare skin.

“That’s it,” Katie realized. “I may not be able to overpower him, but his stamina is like most men’s — not as good as women’s. I’ll just have to outlast him!”

It was a long grueling struggle — but it was paying off. Bit by bit, Katie found she could rise up off her knee and push back against Ralph’s arms. The chanting was now accompanied by clapping, which got faster and faster as they saw her regain the lost ground and push back to even — and the clapping dissolved into wild applause and screaming as she gained the advantage over a rapidly tiring Ralph!

“Alright, that’s it… I’ve made my point, and I can’t keep this up all that much longer,” Katie thought. “I have to change tack now.”

Ralph clearly had the same thought, and both broke the test of strength at the same time, with Ralph almost on one knee. He made a grab for Katie, and got his massive beefy arms around her waist, but she had already swung to the side and snapped on a headlock. They tussled for a while, almost losing their balance — then Katie prevailed and hip-tossed Ralph to the mat, landing as hard as she could on his broad hair chest.

It worked. She drove the air out of him in a big gasp of air, most of which she felt on her breasts and nipples. By reflex, he tried to kick out, and his legs came within reach — in a flash, Katie reached out with her left arm and hooked one, his right leg, it turned out. With a hard jerk of her arm, she wrenched it further over, and leaned back, her weight resting on Ralph’s entire body.

Then the referee came sliding in, and starting slapping the mat. Oh, that’s right, Katie thought — a pin situation! Ralph struggled — but the hand came down for the third time.

“3 — pinfall!” And the referee leapt up and waved his hands wildly, signaling for the bell to ring.

The crowd was cheering — those segments that were on Katie’s side anyway. Quite a number were holding their heads in various postures of surprise. Katie herself released the pin and got up, in a slightly happy daze, wondering how it was that she had gained a point so easily. Maybe this stuff isn’t as hard as I thought it would be, she thought.

Ralph had sprung up, and was furiously shoving the referee. “What the fuck do you think you’re playing at,” he yelled. “My shoulder was up, it was up!”

The referee put up his hands in a placatory manner. He backed away — not least because Ralph’s semi-erect penis was swinging around threateningly. He spoke firmly, though. “Sorry, mate, I have to call it as I see it. It was right before my eyes — she pinned you. Fair and square. Look, just back off, ok? And get back into the match, get back into your corner.”

Katie smiled and paraded around the ring a bit, arms raised to bask in the victory, before she went to her corner and sat on the ringpost too. First fall to her — and by a very unlikely pinfall too. She only had to secure one more win, by submission or forced orgasm. Already she was planning to secure a submission, which was her real forte. The forced orgasm could be part of the forfeit.

“I know — I’ll bend his lower body over and milk him until he cums on his own face,” she thought, licking her lips with satisfaction at the thought. She matched his glare levelly from across the ring, anticipating the next round.

It came soon enough. “DING DING DING!”

Katie strode into the centre of the ring again, dropping into a wary crouch. Ralph exploded out of his corner. Energetically he began to circle Katie, making darting lunges and feints, moving surprisingly fast on his feet for such a big man. Katie found herself having to adjust quickly to the constant changes in orientation. He had ring sense, that was for sure — something Katie really did not have yet.

Then he moved in suddenly and Katie was slow to react. Ralph wrapped his arms around Katie’s midsection, and heaved. Katie gasped loudly as she was lifted off her feet. Falling to the side, Ralph slammed her body down onto the mat Greco-Roman style.

The impact drove the breath from her body. Winded, she lay stunned for a while, coughing and gasping. But Ralph gave her no respite, clambering on top of her and grabbing her wrists. His belly lay on top of hers, and she could feel his considerable weight.

“Oh no — he’s pinning me!” she realized, the worst possible situation.

“Count it you fucking asswipe,” Ralph yelled at the hapless referee, who slid down and began slapping the mat. Frantically, Katie struggled to muster her strength.

“1, 2…”

She just managed to muscle up her left shoulder. Roaring in rage, Ralph pushed it down almost immediately. “Count her!”

“1, 2…”

This time she pushed up with the right, because with presence of mind she channeled all her effort into her left arm, and at the last second she suddenly surged, twisting her entire torso and giving a massive push with her right arm, which shot straight up. This allowed her to lock out her elbow, so she could resist Ralph’s arm strength with her trembling arm while she twisted and turned to avoid another pin situation.

She managed to get herself halfway turned around, and freed her left arm from Ralph’s grasp — but Ralph allowed the turn, and even seemed to help her all the way around! She soon realized why — he maintained the upper position, and got control of her arms with a full nelson hold, preventing her from getting on all fours.

“Fuck…” she breathed, as she flexed her shoulders, trying to break out of the full nelson. She sensed Ralph’s fingers slipping apart as a result of her efforts — but Ralph adjusted his position, and with a stab of pain she realized he had maneuvered her into a deadly clutch!

“I am such a noob,” she thought, even as she struggled wildly, but to no avail. Ralph had managed, due to her inexperience, to lock in a full-nelson clutch — surely one of the worst holds a wrestler could be subject to!

“You’re in for it now, bitch,” he rumbled, his voice sounding like thunder from behind her head.

“You won’t make me submit so easily,” she replied, still flexing all her muscles defiantly against him.

“Oh, I hope not,” he chuckled. He released Katie’s left arm, but only slightly — and reached down past Katie’s shoulder to twiddle Katie’s nipples!

“Ohh… ohhhh… fuck…” Katie began to moan, despite herself. Her eyes widened involuntarily.

“One of your little friends ain’t quite as friendly as you thought,” Ralph laughed, even as the referee asked Katie if she would submit and she shook her head slightly. “You got really nice nipples, you know… really nice and big for an Asian bitch… must be all the roids you take… yeah? You like that? You like this doncha… big muscle bitch…”

“Fuck you,” she spat, closing her eyes and trying to block out both the pain and the nipple play. Ralph’s hand was large and callused. His fingers dug into her flesh, probing and invading. But in stark contrast, his thumb and forefinger squeezed with just the right pressure, rubbed with just the right amount of friction, sending thrills of pleasure through Katie’s shaking body.

What could he mean? Had Katie been betrayed? Had one of the other girls told Ralph about her specific sexual weaknesses? Or even the technical ones — like the fact that she hardly ever refused a test of strength, even if at a significant disadvantage. Was that why Ralph had attempted to use a strength test at the beginning? Katie was beginning to think she had underestimated this hulking trucker — he clearly had brains as well as brawn.

He now switched to using both hands, allowing Katie’s arms more freedom of movement and putting less painful pressure on her shoulders, but her arms were still essentially trapped. It was now basically a camel clutch, but her nipples and breasts were at the mercy of the Rough Rider. She could feel the thick cord of his cock resting on her back, aligned with her spine, pressing warmly against her ridges of back muscle.

Her moans were getting louder. Her supporters were calling for her to try and break out, but the guys were now out in full vocal force, cheering him on to “make the bitch cum”. The referee was looking at her whole body carefully, to determine if she was in orgasm or not. She was starting to get there, she could sense it.

Furiously she thrashed around again, and this time she managed to get her arms out! Bracing her palms against the mat, she began to push — but Ralph had already switched to a cross-body inverse pin, wrapping his arm around her neck and keeping her body pinned belly down from the side. His other hand reached invasively between her thighs and he found what he was looking for in short order.

Katie’s moan of pleasure was loud, shuddering and embarrassing. Ralph’s fingers probed her unhindered, ignoring her belated attempts to shut him out by squeezing her glutes tightly together. He parted her labia lips and rubbed the moist insides.

“You’re already dripping wet! You really want to cum, huh?”

“Fuck… no…” she gasped, clutching at his arm fruitlessly, trying to get some air. The asphyxiation was also having an undesired effect on her, increasing her state of arousal as her body entered oxygen-deprived “fight” mode.



“Are you cumming?”

“N… no…”

Then Ralph used his thumb to press against the dusky opening of Katie’s anal hole, and Katie felt the tremor passing through her entire body at this invasiveness. To be subdued like this… in front of an entire arena of hundreds, if not thousands… by a perfect stranger… who was outwrestling, outmuscling her…

She tried to shut it out from her mind, but she was getting closer and closer to the brink. And suddenly, Ralph changed tack. He turned her over, and got her into a rear-naked choke — another deadly, usually inescapable hold if done right, and the ropes were nowhere within reach.

“Ack… agh… uck… ack… sub…” Katie couldn’t finish the word, and she was reduced to slapping the mat in wild panic, to signal her submission.

The referee grabbed at Ralph’s arm, shouting at him to release her, then he straightened up and yelled for the bell. “Fall — by submission! One fall to Ralph!”

Ralph strode back to his corner punching the air and shouting, “YEAH!” Quite a sizeable portion of the crowd echoed him.

Katie sat up slowly, rubbing her neck. If not for her columnar neck muscles, she would have been knocked out cold, she was sure. As it is she was still seeing stars a little. She blinked to clear her head. And she realized that the break timer had already started — and she was intensely, immensely aroused. Ralph was sitting on his ringpost, taking deep breaths, recovering. His cock hung flaccidly at his groin. Katie’s nipples were swollen and pulsing, and her pussy was throbbing. Worse still, she could feel how wet she was inside.

“I have to get a grip on myself,” she thought as she sat gingerly on her turnbuckle, with only slightly under a minute to go. “Have to relax… push this aside…”

The break didn’t seem long enough, before the bell rang again and the referee waved them both back into the ring. Katie knew she was probably much closer to orgasm than her opponent. Ralph got on his feet and stepped forward, crouching in readiness. A long drop of pre-cum oozed out from the head of his cock and left a slight trail behind him — a mildly comical sight, but right now it represented to Katie that his state of arousal had receded, and she was not able to take full advantage of it. She would need to get it flowing again somehow.

They circled each other, looking for openings. Ralph began to stalk her, clearly wanting to get in close as quickly as possible to keep her arousal high. She found herself backing away, not wanting to be cornered.

Then he made a grab for her and she stepped quickly aside, letting him stagger past her. Seeing a chance, she stepped in quickly behind and to the side, and tried to slide into an abdominal stretch, reaching down for his cock.

But he had lured her into such a move. Showing his superior in-ring ability, he reversed the position and went behind her, trapping her arm quickly and putting her into the abdominal stretch position she had wanted. Crying out with frustration, she flailed about with her free hand, but Ralph held her firmly and soon she weakened from the pain in her torso.

Worse still, Ralph began to stimulate her with his right hand, alternately moving from her pussy to her breasts. She tried to block him off with her left hand, but he switched targets so that she couldn’t stop him. Her arousal began to increase again, even as her physical strength weakened.

The only bright spot for Katie at that point was that she could feel, at the back of her leg, Ralph’s erection coming back too. However, she was in no position to take advantage of it. In fact, she weakened enough after several long minutes that Ralph pushed her down into an over-the-knee backbreaker position. She was held firmly enough that she couldn’t simply slide off. She kicked her legs futilely.

Ralph dug his elbow into her exposed abs, grinding away sadistically at the eight-pack she now proudly sported. Katie screamed and writhed, but couldn’t extricate herself.


She couldn’t make him stop even by submitting and losing the match — he had already gotten one submission from her, so this fall couldn’t be taken this way. Her desperation increased as she realized she was at his mercy.

She could hear the crowd in an uproar. A lot of groans could be heard — probably her supporters seeing no way out for her. A lot of cheers for Ralph, who was clearly something of a favourite among the audience.

Thankfully, Ralph switched from the torment of her abs to fingering her and tweaking her nipples — but this was scant mercy, as once again her orgasm began to build. Her body, weakened by pain, was less able now to hold back the pleasure. Her moans were getting louder and harder to control. Her head was swimming, and not just because it was upside down.

Then he made the mistake she was waiting for — he stopped pushing down on Katie’s chin and used his hands to work on her nipples and pussy simultaneously. Katie suffered that for a few moments — then with a forceful twist of her fatigued body, she slid off his thigh, relieving the pressure on her torso. Ralph was all over her again, as expected, keeping her subdued. She fought him grimly with every ounce of strength left in her, twisting and turning around like a snake.

Eventually she found herself face to face with him, with him in a dominant position above her. Their fingers had locked together again during their grapple, and now he was about to put her in a grapevine pin. Summoning all her arm strength, she wrenched her arms inwards, so that Ralph could not pin her hands and shoulders. In effect, she was now supporting his weight using a close-grip bench press posture. Her muscles ached with the strain.

He grinned at her, his sweat-streaked face flushed with impending triumph. “End of the line, missy,” he shouted, loud enough for the crowd to hear. His cock was resting on her crotch, the shaft rubbing against her pussy lips — and her clitoris. Her eyes widened as she realized what he was going to do.

Ralph began to live up to his name — he began to ride her roughly. He used his shaft with expert dexterity, rubbing against Katie’s clitoris so vigorously she threw her head back and screamed.

“Are you cumming?” the referee was at her side in a flash.

“FUCK, NO,” she screamed, her voice sounding tremulous. This was the finishing sequence — after all the stimulation she had received, this would be enough to tip her over the edge. If she couldn’t fight it off. If she couldn’t resist the sensation. If she couldn’t turn the tables somehow. In this position, he would not be stimulated much — not many nerve endings on that portion of the shaft he was using. His balls were banging against her inner thighs though, but whatever that did for his arousal, it was driving her absolutely wild. The light, steady tapping pressure on the sensitive skin of her inner thighs was incredible.

She had to change the position — she had to use the one weapon she could. Her pussy, against his cock. She couldn’t make him submit now, he had too much of an advantage and she was on the verge of cumming. She couldn’t somehow put on a submission move before she came, she knew that. This was the only option left to her. She had to make him cum.

It would be an extremely uneven fight, considering their different states of arousal — but she had to try.

She waited for the right moment — then bridged up her lower torso, arching her lower back. The first attempt failed — he moved so as to block her, and she couldn’t quite trap his cock with her pussy.

The second, desperate attempt succeeded — her arm strength overcame his briefly, and her upper body came up off the mat. He shifted his weight to compensate and bear her down again, affording her the window of opportunity. His cock slid off her tummy — she shifted — the head was in contact with her pussy lips — she shoved herself around him, ignoring the pain of entry — he was in her.

They both moaned together, in ecstasy. He filled her up so much, she couldn’t take in all 8 inches of him. He tried to jerk himself out, but she clasped her legs behind his hips, locking her ankles, keeping him firmly inside her, knowing this was the only chance she would get. She clamped as hard as she could with her vaginal muscles, feeling his hard member throb inside her.

“You’re gonna lose, bitch,” he growled. “Just accept it.”

“The fuck I will,” Katie gasped back, panting. “I’m gonna make you cum and fuck you in the ass.”

“The fuck you will,” came the unimaginative rejoinder, which could of course be excused considering the state of mind both wrestlers were in.

With a surge of strength, Katie pushed Ralph’s body to the side, almost tipping him over before he responded and blocked her efforts. They now lay on their sides, thighs open, not the ideal position for either wrestler, but the best Katie could hope for. As long as she stayed on the bottom, he could control the movement of the match, adjusting the pace to suit himself, making her cum long before he did. She had wanted to go on top of him, where she’d be the one in control, but this would have to do.

Now her left arm and his right arm were held straight up in the air, an emblem of their struggle as they clasped each other around the torso and humped sideways. Ralph shoved himself as deep into her as he could, and it was all Katie could do to bite her lip and resist screaming out when he found her G-spot. She had to conceal such an obvious weakness — but all the same, whether or not he knew precisely how to get hers, he was getting it.

He was hard — but would it be enough? Katie found that as he pressed in closer, her range of movement was restricted. She could not work his shaft as well as she wanted to. She did the best she could — doing pussy tricks, using her pussy muscles to squeeze with irregular rhythms, trying for some variation in the sensations felt by him. From his increasingly ragged breathing and the glazed look in his eyes, she was succeeding somewhat.

But it was a race against time. Her nipples rubbed against his hairy chest, which definitely did more to her than to him. Her hips suddenly gave a spasm, and her body began to shake. It was coming on. It was starting.

“Are you cumming?” The referee was well trained indeed. He was squinting suspiciously at the length of Katie’s body.

“No… no… I’m not…” Katie moaned.

“Cum… CUM,” Ralph grunted forcefully, accentuating each word with a thrust of his hips.

Katie was at the end of her tether. She did not want to lose in her debut match in such a humiliating manner. The humiliation aspect of it, however, was making her even more turned on.

She had only one trick left to play. She knew many men were turned on by a sensuous muscular woman, even if they denied it loudly to their buddies, for fear of appearing un-masculine. She pulled their raised arms inwards and down, until their arms were bent at right angles.

As she hoped, Ralph’s eyes flickered to her flexed bicep. She gave it a pulse, exhibiting her muscle control. Then she gave it a few more rhythmic pulses.

“Yes!” she thought. Ralph’s gaze was fixated on her muscle display.

Then she took charge. She cupped the back of Ralph’s head and pulled him in for a kiss, a kiss fuelled by lust and competitiveness, with not a trace of tenderness in it. Their tongues wrestled, their lips collided. She began to hum, setting up a vibration that she knew would be felt down to his bones.

His body suddenly tensed. Hers tensed as well — she was on the verge. She held on, rocking away against his body, staving off the inevitable for as long as possible.

Then she felt it — a huge throb of his cock, then the first slap of semen against her inner flesh.

Yelling in triumph, she thrust her body away from him, yanking her lower torso away to let his pulsing, spraying cock spring out, suddenly liberated, and ejaculating long white ropes all over the mat.

He collapsed onto his back, crying out inchoately, his cock seemingly taking on a life of its own, spurting out rope after rope — dimly, Katie counted about six in all, counting the first one inside her. She slumped onto her back as well, and felt it come in a huge wave. It was an orgasm that consumed her entire body — her muscles clenched as one muscle. She had never felt anything like this in her life. She jerked about on the mat wildly, heedless of how ridiculous she had to appear, like an out-of-control marionette.

The referee glanced swiftly at both supine wrestlers, and waved to the announcer, calling it.

“The winner of this fall, by orgasm, and by just the barest split-second — THE STEEL BUTTERFLY, KATIE TAY!”

As the delirious pleasure subsided Katie lay back and smiled. They were screaming her name, cheering for her. It took several long minutes before Ralph could be roused — amazingly, he had fallen asleep and was snoring away! As the crowd tittered, they woke him, with some difficulty. He sat up, growling, looking for all the world like a bad-tempered hibernating bear, and then he pounded the mat in frustration.

Meanwhile, the referee declared Katie the winner of the match, now with a proud record of 1-0, and raised her arm for the victory. Katie finally spotted Penny in the crowd, and waved to her. Penny waved back enthusiastically, and Katie saw a few other women around Penny turn to her curiously, possibly to ask if she knew this wrestler. From Penny’s gestures and the proud way she was beaming, Katie surmised that Penny was telling them all about being her best friend.

The forfeit was now hers, but Katie felt oddly tired. She was more than tired in terms of muscle fatigue — she was completely drained, mentally as well. She waved away the strapon, and Ralph’s eyes widened in surprise, as did the eyes of most of the audience.

“Don’t think you get off easy,” she said, pushing him down roughly onto the mat and squatting over his face.

The crowd went wild as she flexed her arms, putting on a powerful display of dominance. Then the kicker came — with a few hard flexes, Katie squirted Ralph’s own cum back out of her pussy and onto his face! Katie was sure Ralph had never received a creampie quite like this.

Back in the locker room, the girls were all high-fiving Katie, gushing about how sensual the match was, despite the slow pace of it. Katie made some humble remarks about her inexperience, and the way her matches usually tended to be slow like that, but inwardly she was wondering — which of them was a backstabbing conniver without her best interests at heart? They all seemed so sincere, and certainly in this league there was a strong sense of sorority, a feeling of “us versus the men”, but Ralph had clearly known something.

And outside, on the way back, after receiving a hefty pay packet from Mr. Bartlett, the other guy in charge, Katie came face to face with Ralph. The Rough Rider was dressed in a cutoff leather vest over a simple shirt, and a pair of worn jeans. He wore leather fingerless gloves, and looked every bit the hard-bitten trucker.

He gave an amiable nod. “Great match, Katie. You’re really special, with a bod like that. You’ll go far. Call me out anytime for a drink — if you do drink. You look like you’re into all that healthy diet stuff, so maybe you don’t. Guys like me can’t keep up with your stamina, that’s for sure. Ha!” And with a friendly smile and another nod, he walked off, whistling.

Katie just stood there, utterly bewildered. That man, who just under an hour ago had been face to face with her in a brutal struggle for physical, mental and sexual superiority… had that man just invited her out for a drink? And praised her? Like a real sportsman?

She chuckled. Then she laughed. And she was still laughing hard, with tears coming out of her eyes, when Penny found her a short while later.

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Eris’s Golden Apple

by markydaysaid

At the base of Mount Olympus, near to the border between the realms of mortals and gods, there was a large and glorious hot spring. The waters of the spring bubbled up from the ground, warmed by the fire of Hades, and the bathes it formed ranged in temperature from comfortably warm to scalding hot. The air was always thick with steam and pleasantly scented thanks to the minerals in the water, and the vegetation was so thick that even in the relatively small area a shy bather could find a completely hidden bath all to themselves.

Most bathers who came to this hot spring were not at all shy though. Quite the opposite, they were hedonists and revelers, each as addicted to sex and debauchery as an alcoholic was to wine. These baths had been the site of many wild orgies, but more commonly they were used as a place for the day afterwards, a place where the exhausted partiers could wash the stains of sex out of their hair and the sweat from their bodies.

These bathers were no ordinary people either. This place being so close to Mount Olympus, and so hidden from the mortal world that only a few of the bathers were human, but each of them were legendary heroes or demigods, each with perfect bodies and innumerable accomplishments. Their presence at the hot spring was evidence of the favor they had won from the gods, either by slaying some offending monster, or just being too attractive for the god to resist.

Most of the bathers were spirits of some sort. Nymphs, satyrs, centaurs, and such, all of them different shapes and colors, all of them beautiful, and most of them busy fucking one another senseless. The nymphs often took the form of diminutive young maidens with barely post-pubescent bodies, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t take a brutally hard fucking from a horse-cocked centaur, even while their asses were being split open by some horny satyr.

Fewest of the bathers were the gods and goddesses themselves, since the gods were the rarest of all things. Beings of unimaginable power, and almost unequaled sexual appetites, the gods were feared just as much as they were adored.

There were three goddesses currently at the baths. The largest and hottest pool was reserved for them, as only their immortal bodies could stand the heat, and they giggled and gossipped as they watched the other bathers fuck, and they slowly recovered from the violence of their previous night’s orgy.

“Fuck,” moaned the first goddess. “Ares really did a number on my ass last night. I can’t even sit down or roll over. Thank Zeus I don’t have to shit like the humans do. I swear, Ares is an infinitely better lover than my husband, Hephaestus, but he fucks me like he’s trying to kill me.”

“Trust me, dear, just be grateful that you have a dominant lover and a submissive husband,” said the second goddess. “That’s the key to happiness. Being married to Zeus had been a constant tribulation. I hate him because he’s a drunken oaf who would rather waste his big dick on little mortal girls than a goddess like me, but I love him when he actually fucks me. My husband isn’t king of the gods for nothing, dears. When that man hits my pussy with his lighting-bolt . . . . well . . . ‘apocalyptic’ is too soft a word for it.”

“Gross,” the third goddess groaned. “That’s my dad you’re talking about. Can you two quiet down a bit. I’m trying to masterbate.”

“Nerd,” the first goddess snickered, noticing that the third was reading an erotic scroll as she bathed. “If you want a proper fingering come over here. The goddess of love knows how to treat a pussy.”

“Goddess of whores,” the third grumbled.



“Girls!” the second goddess interrupted. “Please be civil. I may not be your birth-mother, but I am your father’s wife, and I’m the one who sucks his cock to calm him down when one of you two have angered him. I’d like it if we all got along for once. Now kiss and makeup.”

The younger goddesses grumbled and kissed, the first taking much longer and enjoying her kiss much more than the third. The first goddess teased the third a little by grabbing at her little nipples and twisting them, and although the third goddess mewled in complaint she did not break the kiss.

The first goddess (the one whose ass had been nearly shattered by Ares the night before) was no other than Aphrodite, the goddess of love, sex, selfishness, sluts, and orgasms. She looked the part too. Tall, blonde, slender, but stacked with a huge pair of round tits that defied gravity and an ass that could shatter and stone-wall. Here lips, nipples, and pussy were all flawlessly pink and perky, despite having been used to suck and fuck more cocks than an entire brothel of five-penny whores. She had been the instigator and focus of last night’s orgy, which was usually the case. It was impossible to be within a mile of her and not feel the arousing power of her influence. Aphrodite could make any stale pussy dripping wet, and any old cock as hard as marble. Being touched by her was usually enough to provoke a spontaneous orgasm, as the third goddess was now feeling.

The third goddess (the one reading the scroll and masterbating) was the youngest of the three. Athena, goddess of wisdom, knowledge, pornography, poetry, pottery, science, table-top games, and all sorts of nerdy shit. She was easily more beautiful than any human, but next to Aphrodite she looked rather plain. She was short, cute, petite, with budding breasts that never seem to fully come in, but a nice firm butt that you could bounce a coin off of. Her long brunette hair was braided into pigtails that hung down to her lower back. She always braided her hair before on orgy. It gave the other gods something to hold on to when the fucked her from behind or skull-fucked her throat. She was so small she’d bounce away otherwise.

The second goddess (the one married to Zeus) was the oldest, most powerful, and most unmistakably godlike of them all. Standing over seven feet tall, with pronounced cheekbones, narrow eyes, titanically large breasts capped with wide brown nipples, a huge ass bigger than a mare’s, a slightly curvy stomach, a big fat pussy, and a heap of curly black hair, this goddess demanded attention, respect, and awe. This was Hera, queen of the gods, and patron deity of dominatrixes everywhere.

“Haha!” Aphrodite laughed at her little sister. “I got you to cum already, just from a kiss.”

“No!” Athena whined, but there was no hiding it. Her legs were quivering and her tiny hairless pussy was spitting like a piece of squeezed fruit. She sunk beneath the scalding water of the bath to hide her embarrassment.

“Amatuer,” Aphrdite giggled as she fingered herself and enjoyed the way her little sister’s cute face scrunched up in pleasure. “A little slut like you only knows how to lay back and get fucked. It takes a real goddess like me to master sex. I fuck back, and I fuck hard. You were a fucking appetizer last night, and I was the main course.”

“Arrogant slut,” Athena groaned. “It’s only because of your powers that anyone even finds a disgusting bimbo like you attractive. Ares practically crawled over you to get a turn with me, because I know how to please a man’s darkest fantasies and desires. I do the actual research, and learn what my lover wants.”

“You’re both children compared to me,” Hera interrupted, standing up in the pool and thrusting her imperious breasts into the air so that they hung over the younger deities heads like two falling moons. “How many gods did you fuck last night before passing out? Athena, maybe a dozen? Aphrodite, maybe twenty? I fucked over fifty gods last night, and with the exception of my husband, I dominated every single one of them. You two may have gotten put to sleep by Ares warring battering-ram, but I was the one who broke him, and pumped the last drop of his raging godhood from his body. You two little kittens need to recognize who is the top bitch around here.”

The three goddesses continued to argue for some time, each asserting that they were the sexually powerful. Athena claimed that it was her knowledge of kinks and fetishes that made her the sexiest, whereas Aphrodite said it was raw eroticm that made her superior, and Hera asserted her power by flexing her amazonian muscles. They three of them continued to argue until a fourth goddess came onto the scene, swaggering her slender body with a playful sort of haughtiness.

“I think I have a way you three can settle this argument,” the new goddess said with a bratty, nasally voice. She was taller than Athena, but not nearly as tall as Aphrodite and Hera. Her long blonde hair was curly and messy, as if she had just gotten out of bed after a long night of masterbation, and her succulent body was half-covered by a ripped robe that was stained with wine, leaving her breasts and thighs completely bare. Her face was perfectly pretty, but the insane twist of her smile and the uneven glint of her bright pink eyes were a little disconcerting. On her back sprouted two stubby wings, like that of a doves, which were completely white except that they were dirty and also stained with wine.

“Eris,” Hera growled. “Goddess of Discord.”

“Did you three have fun at the orgy last night?” Eris asked, swaggering as if drunk. “I’m asking because I don’t know. I wasn’t invited.”

“Your invitation must have gotten lost in the mail, dear,” Hera said with a sarcastic sneer.

“Who’d want a dirty slut like you around anyway,” Athena said looking away and lifting up her nose.

“Yeah. I enjoy a wild party as much as the next goddess, but no one wants complete chaos,” Aphrodite agreed. “You fuck up everything you touch, Eris.”

“Well . . . I can’t argue with that,” Eris said glumly. “And just to show that there are no hard feelings, I have a gift for one of you.”

Eris held up an apple, but it wasn’t any normal apple. It was golden and shimmering, glowing with its own internal light, and yet it seemed edible. It was the most delicious looking apple any of the goddesses had ever seen.

“A golden apple!” Hera gasped. “From the Garden of the Hesperides. Where did you get it?”

“That doesn’t matter,” Eris said with a shrug. “The only thing that matters is who is going to get it. You see, I think that such an extravagant prize as this should only go to the very best goddess around. The sexiest. The horniest. The lustiest. Only the goddess who has the wettest pussy, tightest asshole, nastiest mouth, and most talented hands should get to shove this golden knob down their slutty throat. But who would that be?”

“Me!” all three of the goddesses said, before breaking out into another argument.

“Calm down, calm down,” Eris said, juggling the apple in the air. “You see . . . I know of a perfect way for you three to prove which of you is the absolute sexiest. You see, there is this mortal, a warrior, a beast of a man with the cock of a horse, and in all his life he’s never been bested by a woman of any kind, mortal or otherwise . . . His name’s Tavros.”


“Tavros! Tavros! Tavros!” the mercenary army cheered. They were a motley sort drawn together from every corner of the world, united by a common love of adventure, war, violence, gold, and rape. Some of them were Celts, some Greek, some Persian, some Nubian, some Ethiopian, some Scythian, and some from corners of the world which had no name yet. They were all warriors, bandits, and thieves, and yet they were not completely without honor. By ancient tradition, any battle between two armies could be substituted by a battle of two champions that would decide the victor. Even if a substantially smaller army had the better champion, they could claim victory, and the larger army would have to leave. That was the reason they were cheering for Tavros.

Tavros was a beast of a man, standing seven feet tall, weighing over three hundred pounds, and every bit of it was solid muscle. His skin was a deep bronze, both because of the burning sun he lived under and because of his mixed ethnic heritage. Tavros was contemptuous of armor, preferring the protection that his tremendous speed and strength offered, but he did were a skimpy loincloth with a bulging codpiece to keep his immeasurably large cock under control, and he wore heavy iron bracers on his wrists to stop his enemies’ weapons.

Tavros’s opponent was much like himself, choosing to wear only a few pieces of armor and a tight leather thong that pinched deep into the opponent’s pronounced buttocks, but Tavros’s opponent was slightly smaller than he was, and female.

The warrior woman was an Amazon with long red hair tied into a braid, beautiful green eyes, and a muscular body that was strong enough to wrestle a horse to the ground, but still feminine enough to be beautiful. Her half-naked body was covered in swirling blue war-paint, and what little armor she wore covered her large round breasts and crotch, but after almost an hour of fighting with Tavros had down its toll on her, and her war-paint began to drip down her body from the sweat, and her large breasts heaved in the tight constraints of her inadequate breastplate.

“Kia! Kia! Kia!” the opposing army of Amazons cheered. They were but one band from a much larger tribe of all warrior women, who raised their daughters in the art of war and wither sent their sons to love amongst other tribes or simply euthanized them. Men were nothing but beasts to them; just meat to breed with. Like Kia they were all skimpily dressed, some wearing nothing by loincloths and thongs while armed with nothing but slings and spears, but as Kia was demonstrating, armor was not what made a good warrior.

Tavros swung at Kia with a mighty fist, delivering a blow powerful enough to rip her head off, but Kia leaned back and let the first sail over her head. Her hands fell to the dirt and she used the leverage to kick her knee upward between Tavros’s balls, slamming them up into his muscular thighs.


Tavros fell to his knees groaning, and Kia’s allies cheered for her. Normally such a strike was enough to castrate a man, but Kia was alarmed to find that her knee actually hurt a little. Tavros’s cock and balls hadn’t felt like most men’s. His cock had felt like a heavy leathy pouch filled with something metal, and his balls were each as hard as ivory nuts.

“You’re bigger than most men,” Kia said, specifically referring to the inhumanly large bulge in his codpiece. “But like all men you are clumsy and stupid. Nothing but meat. Prepare to die.”

Kia lept onto Tavros’s wide shoulder and wrapped her legs around his neck. The muscles and cords of his neck were thicker than anything Kia had ever felt before, more like a bull’s than a man’s, but she was certain she could snap his neck if she tried hard enough. Kia squeezed her thighs together and leaned back until her head was hovering just an inch off the ground, but even with the added leverage and the immense power of her thighs, Kia could not get Tavros’s neck to even bend a little. Kia squeezed until her pussy smashed against the back of Tavros’s skull, but still he resisted. This was impossible, Kia thought. She had literally strangled a minotaur to death with her legs once before. She had fucked centaurs into submission, and broken men like twigs. How could this mortal man resist her so easily.

“Fucking . . . Bitch!” Tavros grunted, grabbing at Kia’s legs, swinging her body over his head, and slamming her against the dusty ground.

Kia landed with a hard thud, and before she could even inhale Tavros was rolling her over and grabbing at her breastplate.

“You tits seemed to be a little cramped, cow,” Tavros said. “Let me free them.”

Tavros tore the breastplate off of Kia’s chest so hard that the leather straps keeping it in place snapped like threads, and Kia’s breasts bounced on her chest like two mounds of fresh jelly. Tavros grabbed one of Kia’s breasts in his mighty hand and squeezed so hard that the Amazon began to scream, but the sensation was just as pleasurable as it was painful, and her nipples responded by hardening and erecting from her chest a full inch.

“Your nipples are already stiffening,” Tavros said as he mauled Kia’s breasts. “Conquring you is going to be easier than I though. I bet your pussy is soaking wet as well.”

“N-No,” Kia moaned, but she could feel that he was right. She had noticed how swollen and wet her pussy was when she was grinding it against the back of his neck. She couldn’t help it; the thrill of battle excited her, and as much as she hated to admit it there was something about Tavros that was sexuall mesmerizing, sometihng about his thick musky scent, and the arrogant smile on his handsome face as he fought her.

“Slut! Don’t lie to me!” Tavros said, reaching down to Kia’s thong and ripping it off her body. The tight leather cord dug into her swollen pussy before it snapped, and Kia squealed like a little girl as her clit got whipped by the snapping leather.

“See,” Tavros said. “Your dripping wet. Your pussy is so swollen it looks hurt.” Tavros pressed his thumb down on her clut and began grinding it around, rubbing his knuckles against her puffy slit, and forcing out the juice like he was squeezing a slice of lemon. Kia mewled and wiggled on the ground, desperately trying to kick herself away from Tavros, but the powerful man kept yanking on her ankle or waist to keep her in place, and she was already dizzy with the need to cum.

“Lubricant, or no lubricant?” Tavros asked.

“What?” Kia stuttered, too horny and scared to think straight.

“Do you want my cock to have any lubricant when I fuck you or not?” Tavros clarified. “It’s up to you.”

Kia didn’t know how to answer until Tavros tore off his codpiece and let his full manhood flop out. His cock was swollen and thick, but clearly not even hard yet. Still, even soft it was nine-inches long, as thick around a Kia’s wrist, and capped by a fat bulbous head so plump that it looked like an apple in the mouth of a python. His balls were huge too, each literally the size of an ivory nut, and they were pulsating with hot, potent, virile seed. The sight of it stunned Kia like a slap to the face, and she almost felt ashamed of her attempt to kill this man. Such a perfect stud was rare, and to waste such good breeding material was almost a sin.

“I . . . I want lubricant,” Kia gasped, imagining with terror what a thick cock must feel like ripping its way through her body.

“Then suck it,” Tavros said, grabbing the back of Kia’s head and pushing her puffy lips against his cockhead.

“Wait, I-HMMMPH!” Kia tried to speak, but her words were shoved down her throat along with Tavros’s cock. He was getting harder by the second, and she was already being stretched to her full limit. Any more and her jaw might snap. Tavros rocked back and forth with gentle thrusts, hammering the back of her throat, producing a “Gluck, Gluck, Gluck” sound as her probed deeper inch by inch, and yet his balls were still swinging so far away from her chin that she couldn’t even see them. Kia struggled to her knees to get a better angle, but Tavros took over by pulling on her hair and literally dragging her across the ground, lining up her throat and stomach to his inflating cock. His iron-hard muscle was now almost thirteen inches long, and still his balls were more than four inches from Kia’s chin.

Kia began to choke. Long strands of spit oozed out her lips and down her chin, some of it splashing against her naked breasts. Tavros caught some of the spit in his hand and he wiped it over her eyes, humiliating Kia as he pummeled her throat wide open. Tears rolled down her cheeks as her skull-fucked her, and finally, after almost a minute of asphyxiation, Kia felt his heavy balls knocking against her chin and throat.

“Shit, you’re not very good at this,” Tavros grunted as he held Kia’s head still and pummeled the back of her neck from the inside. His cockhead punched downward, and broke all the way into her stomach. Kia was gagging violently now, and was weakly slamming her fists against his bullish thighs. It was useless though. Tavors wasn’t going to pull out until he was done, and she was too defeated to bite down.

“That’s enough I hope . . . For your sake,” Tavros said as he pulled his cock out of her throat. The suction of it coming free was so great that it almost made Kia vomit, and when the wide cockhead finally burst forth it came with an explosion of spit that drenched Kia’s face and chest.

“Be . . . be gentle,” Kia begged, humiliated by how pathetic she sounded.

Tavros smirked. “No.”

He grabbed her hair and flung her to the dusty ground. She landed on her tits so hard she bounced, and her ass was left sticking straight up. Tavros grabbed her pussy and pulled her ass up by it, plunging two of his fingers deep into her gushing fruit. He propped her up on her knees and planted a foot on the back of her head to keep her from squirming too much. He could have crushed her skull like an egg, so Kia didn’t squirm anymore than she could control.

Tavros slapped Kia’s ass a few time and then pried her muscular ass open, flashing her pussy and anus to his army. They cheered at the sight of the defeated champion. It was then that Kia felt Tavros push the head of his cock against her tight virgin asshole.

“Wait! No! NO!” Kia screamed. “I . . . You can’t . . . I’ve never taken a man there before! I’ve never taken anything there before! It is forbidden in Themiscyra!”

“Well welcome to Greece, you stupid slut!” Tavros said as he drove all thirteen inches of his brutal fuck-stick deep into Kia’ bowels, and in one stroke shattered her mind and free-will,

crushed her womanhood, ended her Amazonian way of life, and broke her into a submissive whore.


Watching their champion get fucked into utter submission was too humiliating and demoralizing for the Amazons to tolerate, and their army broke. More than half of them fled in tears, while the others attacked out of blind rage. They managed to kill a few of Tavros’s men, but he quickly rallied his troops to counter-strike, and the mercenaries easily subdued the enraged women, stripped them naked, and fucked each of them just as hard as Tavros had fucked Kia, breaking each of them.

Hours later Tavros’s camp was still filled with the deep sexual moans and terrified cries of the captured Amazons as they were fucked into shape, doomed to spend the rest of their lives as concubines and playthings in the cruel world of men, a cruel world that beasts like Tavros thrived in.

Once he had finished with Kia she was practically comatose. Her green eyes were rolled far back into her skull, and her mouth hung wide open. Her pussy and ass dripped with semen, not all of which was Tavros’s, and her naked body was marked with dozens of little scores to indicate the number of times she had been fucked. To mark her as a slave she had a thick leather collar affixed to her neck, and each of her nipples were pierced with little barbells with a chain running between them. Tavros was still not satisfied though, and to make an example out of her, Tabros bound Kia’s wrists and ankles to a wooden cross, and he erected her atop of a hill overlooking their camp. For miles around, anyone could clearly see Kia’s naked body semi-crucified to that cross, and they would know what kind of man Tavros was.

Although the camp seethed with wild sex, and the sweaty bodies of the Amazons were passed around like cheap toys, Tavros was able to ignore it all as he rested. Laying down on a mattress of stolen silk pillows and looted Persian rugs, Tavros looked up at the stars and relaxed his tense titanic muscles, smugly enjoying the way the dim starlight reflected off of the geometry of his chest and stomach, highlighting each and every abdominal. Despite having climaxed within and upon Kia’s body almost a dozen times, Tavros was still hard, and his erect cock stood out from his body like a thick tentpole. If he had wanted more sex her could have gotten it easily, either from one of the defeated Amazons, or from Kia a thirteenth time, although he doubt she’d survive another round with him. Tavros could have even gotten pleasure from one of his own men, as he sometimes did for the novelty of a man’s body, or to establish dominance over an unruly subordinate. There was nothing like a broken asshole to install a powerful sense of hierarchy between two men.

Tavros didn’t seek more pleasure though, he knew that no amount of sex would satisfy him, not for more than a few hours at least. Tavros had come to accept this about himself, that the lust coursing through his mortal form was simply too powerful to ever be fully sated, and like a starving monster hungry for tribute, the most he could do was abate it. It was this insatiable lust that drove Tavros to the battlefield, to war, and to banditry. Where else could a man of his immense appetites find regular meals?

Tavros’s relaxed until his pounding heart slowed to a steady rhythm, and his titanic body cooled down, like an immense volcano slowly growing dormant after an eruption, and although he did not plan to bring himself to climax, he casually began to masterbate with both hands, stroking his massive column that was thicker than a spear’s shaft.

“Master Tavros,” a timid girl’s voice called out through the warm darkness.

“Tsoúla,” Tavros grunted and leaned up, causing the muscles in his chest to swell up like thunder clouds, and he did not stop stroking his iron cock for a moment. “What is it, girl?”

Tsoúla was a slave girl; a slender twig of a thing with barely budding breasts and a cute but boyish ass. Barely nineteen years old and no more than ninety pounds, Tsoúla was a pathetic excuse for a fuck-toy, but Tavros had taken a certain liking to the waif, although he still vastly preferred a cow with udders. Tavros had taken possession of her after killing her last slave-master, or maybe Tavros had murdered her family, or maybe Tsoúla had just come to camp like a starving kitten looking for milk . . . Tavros honestly couldn’t remember. He had fucked Tsoúla into unconsciousness probably a dozen times before he even bothered to remember her name.

Whatever the case, it was obvious to those who cared that Tsoúla was deeply in love with Tavros, so much so that her slender legs shook when she was around him. Tsoúla was so mesmerized by the immense sight of Tavros’s erect, pulsating, titanic cock that she lost her train of thought, and almost began to drool. Tsoúla did not worship the gods as a good Greek girl should; the only thing she worshipped was Tavros’s massive cock.

“I’ll ask you again slave, what is it?” Tavros said with a threatening tone. “Make me ask again and I’ll fuck you crippled.”

“Oh! . . . Um . . . Sir, some of the men have seen centaurs circling the camp.”

Tavros grunted. “We are five hundred men. Those horse-freaks won’t attack an army our size without-”

But just as Tavros was about to lay back down and go back to masterbating, he felt a growing thunder in the earth. It was the rhythm of a hundred hoofs beating the ground, stampeding in his direction.

There was a whistling in the air as arrows fell from the sky like rain, killing several of Tavros’s men outright.

“Centaurs!” someone screamed.

“Satyrs!” another yelled.

“Nymphs!” one last screamed.

Tavros jumped to his feet with the agility of a tiger, and despite being naked he ran for the front lines. There was no time to gather his armor or weapons, but he wouldn’t need them. His body was his most powerful weapon of all.


Tavros was proud to see that his men were handling themselves well without need of his command. Already they had formed a defensive shield wall that nullified the centaur’s arrows, and minimized the advantage their horse-bodies granted them. A few centaurs were bold (and foolish) enough to charge the wall, but Tavros’s men impaled them on spears before any damage could be done.

It wasn’t just centaurs either. There were satyrs running around, tossing stones from slings, and stabbing at his men’s ankles with little knives. There were nymphs as well, their sensuous bodies dancing erotically on the battlefield, creating a lethal distraction, not to mention their poison-tipped swords.

This surprise attack was concerning, as was this alliance. These races did not usually unite. Without a strong uniting purpose or god to command them, centaurs would not tolerate so many satyrs, and nymphs were more interested in sex than war.

Tavros noticed a centaur that was much smaller than the others, a pony really, and a mare. She was galloping away from the battle, giving Tavros a very generous view of her beautifully formed backside. Her human half was lovely and dainty, with petite but perky breasts and a toned stomach. Her horse half was also attractively shaped (Tavros wasn’t ashamed to mention) with a substantially large and curvaceous rump that bounced tantalizingly on her short but shapely legs. Her human hair was bright blonde, as was her mane, and the fur of her horse body was pristinely white, unlike the ruddy brown of most centaurs. She was a specimen of high breeding, and from the swollen look of her very juicy pussy she was also in heat.

“A messenger,” Tavros realized. “She must be going to their commander.” Tavros turned to his slave. “Tsoúla! My horse! Now!”

“But he isn’t saddled!” Tsoúla whined, hiding behind Tavros and staring at his naked butt.

“It doesn’t matter! Get my horse now!” Tavros roared, and he delivered a hard spank to Tsoúla’s ass so hard she was thrown through the air.

Tsoúla quickly scrambled up, and she led Tavros’s warhorse over. Tavros’s horse was a hulking behemoth of a beast, a monster, a freak of nature like Tavros himself. The horse was as black as oil and so muscular that its hide looked ready to burst at any moment. The horse’s heartbeat was so loud that it could be heard like the beating of a distant drum, and it’s breath was so hot that it could scald the skin off of a civilized man. Most pronounced of its feature though (much like its master) was the intimidating size and appalling girth of its penis. All horses had large members, but this horse was burdened with a log so heavy and thick that it must have slowed the beast down, and the sickening heat that radiated from it was hot enough to melt cheese. This was no mortal horse, as any man could see, but the unholy hellspawn of a mortal mare and one of Hades’s own steeds.

“Deimos, come,” Tavros called his horse, and he leapt upon it even without the help of a saddle. This was how Tavros had broken Deimos anyhow, by riding the hellish steed for three days and three nights with nothing but his naked body to aid him. Deimos gave Tavros the greatest battle of his life, dragging him through valleys and rivers, and even trampling a hydra to death in the process, but by the end of the third night Deimos was too exhausted to continue, and Tavros had won his first steed.

Tavros kicked Deimos into full gallop, and the demon-horse became like living avalanche, trampling an unlucky satyr into paste, and allowing Tavros to take a nymph’s head off with nothing but a swing of his mighty fist. The satyr was deader than dead, but even decapitated the nymph would survive. They were more spiritual than corporeal, but she’d be unable to reform her body for at least a year.

Tavros followed the blonde centaur he saw, and when Deimos picked up the scent of her juicy pussy he was filled with a sudden, biological, predatory need to pursue it, his body being fueled by an almost lethal flood of testosterone.

The lovely little centaur-mare disappeared around a massive pile of moss-covered boulders, and when Tavros came galloping up he found her kneeling on her front legs, bowing to a young woman.

“The commander” Tavros presumed, although her was a little surprised by what he saw.

The young woman was a goddess, of this he was certain. Her body was simply too perfect and radiant to be mortal, and the waves of power emanating from her naked form reverberated deep within Tavros’s own body. Her body was lithe, slender, atheltic, but lacking in the qualities Tavros preferred in woman; tits and ass. This goddess-girl wasn’t much more developed than the centaur in terms of her bosom, and her ass was a little small, which disappointed Tavros despite it being as firm and delicious as an apple. She was naked except for a large golden helmet that covered most of her face, but even it did not radiate with the same sparkling delicacy of her sunkissed skin, or the slightly bronze color of her perky nipples.

Tavros noticed that the centaur-mare was kneeling down so deeply that her juicy pussy was raised up higher than her head, and it was pointing directly at Deimos’s brutal bitch-breaking womb-buster.

“Deimos! Breed!” Tavros commanded as he lept off his demon-steed, and Deimos fell upon the little centaur like the wrath of Hades.

“Wait! What?” the centaur squealed in fright, feeling her little body being pushed down to the ground by the crushing weight of Deimos’s muscles, and her swollen pussy suddenly being crushed by the rock-hard sphere of Deimos’s cockhead.

“Wait! Stop!” the frightened mare whimpered. “I’m a virgin! I’m a priestess of Artemis! She’ll disown me if I’m bred!”

The poor little mare must have thought she was arguing with an intelligent centaur, and not the hellbent, raging, stud-machine that the demon-horse was. Her beseeching fell on deaf ears as Deimos began to slowly penetrate her woefully inadequate vagina with his thick, hip-shattering fuck-hammer. The horse-cock punched in like a spear trying to go through the eye of a needle, and her cherry began to strain.

“No! No! You’re too big! You’re too-FUCK!!”

Deimos rammed his full cock deep into the centaur’s body, shattering her virginity and punching the bottom of her stomach. The centaur’s eyes rolled up into her skull and her tongue hung loose as her mind suddenly went blank, and an inexplicably powerful orgasm rocketed straight to her brain, permanently stupefying her. Her pathetic cries and whimpers became slutty groans and moans, and she was inarticulate begging for more even as Deimos violently fucked her into the earth, slamming her hips into the ground so hard that it sounded like thunder. Deimos literally fucked the centaur so hard that the goddess Artemis felt it in Olympus (because of the psychic connection she had to he priestesses) and for the first time in centuries the lesbian goddess was violently reminded of what it was like to be completely dominated by a male force, and she fell to the floor of her temple pissing herself and cumming her brains out.

“Epona!” the slender goddess screamed, terrified by her friends sudden destruction. The retarded expression on Epona’s face was that of a mindless slut, which was what Deimos had turned her into, probably forever.

“What is your quarrel with me, little goddess?” Tavros asked, barring down on the slender beauty like a human colossus. Even though her golden helmet was crested, the highest tip of it just came up to his chin, and her eyes were level with his impenetrable abs. Even though she radiated with divine power, and her slender body pulsated with lithe muscles, she was a child compared to Tavros.

“This . . . This wasn’t my plan . . . My forces were supposed to weaken you . . . This battle was supposed to last for hours . . . Leaving you exhausted and prone to defeat.”

Tavros snorted. “Who are you?”

Some confidence came into the young divine’s eyes as she remembered herself, and she tried to thrust her small tits into Tavros’s hard chest, but his semi-erect cock was so hard that it punched her in the stomach and she fell flat on her ass, causing her golden helmet to bounce of her head and roll away. Her lovely brown hair was braided into a long single braid, leaving her cherubic face and swollen lips fully revealed.

“(Cough) . . . I’m . . . I’m Athena, Goddess of Wisdom.”

“Goddess of Foolishness more like,” Tavros said, “What did you hope to achieve by defeating me?”

Athena pouted and slowly writhed on the ground, pushing her tits up to seem more powerful . . . Or perhaps . . . Attractive?

“It is none of your fucking buisness why I desire your conquest, human scum,” Athena said, spreading her legs and wiggling her tight little pussy up at him. “Just know that one way or another, I will conquer you. My tactics might have failed, but I am still a goddess, and I have more power in my clit than you do in your entire body. If I can not conquer you with war, I will do so with sex. Now come and get it, you arrogant brute! You big, bulging, bulk of a beast! You-MMPHH!!”

Tavros silenced Athena by grabbing her hair and jamming his cock down her throat. Such a little girl as she was a tight fit for his substantial girth, but she did have the poutiest, plumpest, most succulent cock-sucking lips that he had ever seen, and she was able to use them well as he fucked her esophagus. Tavros did not go easy on her either, knowing that a goddess could survive *almost* anything, and even though it caused her neck to bulge obscenely Tavros still rammed his cock so deep into her gullet that his balls began to slap against her neck, and his cockhead dipped into her stomach.

“A man’s mouth is used for spouting wisdom,” Tavros said, grunting heavily as he enjoyed the tight fight. “A woman’s’ is used for this!”

Tavros leaned back and roared, suddenly cumming much sooner than Athena had expected. She tried to scream as his cock swelled even more, but she was stuffed that all she could produce was a gurgling moan. Tavros’s sperm shot deep into her stomach, slamming down so hard that it felt like she had swallowed and angry wolverine, and with every copious squirt of his mammoth cock she felt herself filling to the brim of her mouth, until sperm was squirting out of her lips and nose. A mortal woman’s neck would have snapped from the force of Tavros’s orgasm, but for a goddess it just left her disoriented and dazed.

Tavros pulled out and blasted the rest of his orgasm all over Athena’s face and chest, caking her so thickly with cum that she couldn’t see through it, and once he was done he let go of her hair and allowed her nearly unconscious body to fall to the ground, twitching from a lack of air, and vomiting thick bucket-loads of sperm.

“Pathetic,” Tavros said, looking down at Athena with contempt as she struggled to breathe through all the semen cementing her throat. “You’re a goddess, and you can’t even do what a hundred Nubian whores have been able to; swallow my load.”

“(Cough, cough) . . . You . . . You’re not human,” Athena gurgled, and she tried to crawl away.

Tavros chuckled and grabbed Athena by her long braid. He dragged her across the rocky ground to where Deimos was still pulverizing Epona’s ruined pussy. Tavros forced her to face her conquered friend. Tavros set Athena up on her hands and knees, pushed her head down and pulling her ass up, forcing her into the position of a submissive dog. Tavros yanked her hair back and forced her face up to Epona’s, pushing them so close together than their cheeks touched, and the semen coating Athena’s face smeared over Epona’s lips and eyes. Epona was so far gone that she began to lick Athena’s face, mewling like a drugged slut, desperate to fill her stomach with delicious man-seed.

“Look at her,” Tavros said as he roughly probed his fingers into Athena’s pussy. She was tight, but wet. Still, she was too tight to enjoy what Tavros was about to do to her . . . At first at least. Once he had her broken into shape she’d be cumming her brains out, just like her ruined friend Epona.

“Your centaur bitch probably spent her whole life thinking she was something special, being a Priestess of Artemis or whatever. She’s been wrong though. She’s nothing but a whore, nothing but a big, wet, warm, fuckable bag of shit for alpha-males like Deimos and I to beat up. That’s why she looks so happy right now, with that retarded smile on her face. She’s happy because Deimos is giving her what she deserved, just like I’m going to do to you.”

“Please,” Athena whimpered, trying to deny the growing wetness between her legs, and the disgusting pleasure she felt by being dominated. Not since Ares had she met a man who treated her so roughly, but Ares was a god, and this beast was allegedly human. This was truly humiliating for her. “Please . . . I . . . I surrender . . . Alright? I forfeit. I give up. I’m weak. I’m pathetic. I’m not the Goddess of Wisdom . . . not anymore. I’m just a stupid slut . . . Alright? I’m just a stupid little slut who needed to be taught a lesson by a man . . . By a real man . . . Like you.”

For a hopeful moment it felt like Tavros was going to stop.

“I know what you are, slut,” He said, tapping the tight opening of her pussy with his iron spear. “That’s why I have to do this.”

Tavros grabbed Athena’s slender shoulders, pulled back, and rammed his cock so deep into her body that to her it felt like she was being impaled, and that his cock would explode from her mouth at any moment. Athena felt her hips widen and legs splayed open as he stretched her apart, and she knew she’d never walk the same again. Tavros plowed her hard, painfully hard, so that her chest smacked against Epona’s leaving them both battered and bruised. It hurt, it ached, it damaged, . . . And yet . . . Beneath it all . . . Athena felt a tidal wave of hot, bubbling, mindless joy boiling up in her body. She started to smile, gurgle, and instead of begging Tavros to stop, she began to beg him to go harder.

“Ha-ha-harder!” Athena stuttered, her voice breaking with every rapid thrust of Tavros’s cock. “Ha-ha-ha-harder! Fa-fa-fa-faster! De-de-de-deeper!

Tavros punched the back of Athena’s head, dazing her, intensifying the humiliating pleasure of being conquered. He grabbed her arms and yanked back, grinding her chest against Epona’s, making their perky little tits slap over one another.

“Cum you little whore,” Tavros grunted as his powerful hips spanked Athena’s little ass. “Cum whatever pride and wisdom you have left out. Cum, you brainless little slut. Cum for me, my new slave!”

Athena gritted her teeth and squealed. “Cu-cu-cu-cu-cu-CUUUMMMMIINNGG!!”

Athena shrieked a long, high note as she came, and her brain sizzled in her skull. She felt her body swelling with a thick, hot flood of lava as Tavros came again, and at the same moment Deimos deposited another potent womb-full of his virile seed into Epona as well, certainly impregnating her if he hadn’t already broken her body beyond the ability to reproduce (as he had with most mare’s Tavros attempted to breed him with).

Athena and Epona wept with wild, submissive pleasure as they came, and they wrapped their arms around each other’s sweat-covered bodies, pushing their tits into one another, and their tongues into each other’s mouth. Athena and Epona melted together, two mindless cum-loving sluts with no greater aspirations in life than to get fucked senseless by big, fat, hard cocks; as they were now.

Tavros pulled out, and Athena slipped to the ground when he did. She was too exhausted to support herself, and she couldn’t control her wildly shaking legs. Tavros held his cock with both hands and tried to stop himself from cumming, but one rope of semen shot out and streaked across the back of Athena’s head. He was able to hold the rest of it in until he got between the two kissing sluts, and he shoved his bulbous cockhead between their mouths, alternating ejaculations of cum from one to the other, filling their cheeks almost to the bursting point long before he was finished cumming, and the rest he let gush over their vacant faces.

Athena and Epona kissed again, swishing the thick semen back and forth between their mouths, but it was Athena who swallowed most of it, and she practically pulled Epona’s hair out trying to lick up every last drop she could get to. She was still sucking up the last bits of sperm residue when Epona simply lost consciousness, and fell against Athena’s body as if dead.

Athena looked up at Tavros with a weak smile and tears in her eyes, feeling happier and stupider than she ever had in her life. Although she was too mentally fatigued to truly “realize” something, she knew deep down that being a stupid slut was going to be much more fun than a Goddess of Wisdom, and she was grateful to Tavros for enlightening her.

“Tavros . . . I . . . I think I’m in love with-”


Tavros swung his hips and slapped Athena across her face with his penis so hard that it echoed like a thunderclap, knocking what little senses Athena had left right out of her head, and she fell to the dirt unconscious and defeated.


Tavros rode back into camp on Deimos’s back naked and glorious, his muscular body

glistening with a thick layer of drying sweat, evidence of his conquest over Athena. Athena herself was on Deimos as well, but she wasn’t riding on his back. Tavros had tied Athena to Deimos’s underside and impaled her body on his horse’s gigantic cock, reducing her to nothing more than a divine cock-sleeve. With every gallop Deimos’s cock plunged up into her chest, and although she was unconsciousness her body responded by writhing orgasmically. She was ruined now; broken to a point that even a god might not recover, but Tavros didn’t care. He was done with her. She was just a trophy now.

As Tavros rode through the battlefield the centaurs, satyrs, and nymphs saw what had become of their goddess, and they immediately fled in terror. If Tavros had the power to break a goddess there was no telling what he could do to them. Once again, Tavros’s men pressed the advantage, and although they allowed the centaurs and satyrs to flee they leapt upon the nymphs, and rounded up a good percentage of them as the spoils of war. The men cheered and praised Tavros for this unprecedented victory. A single nymph (even heavily used) could sell for thousands of gold pieces at the slave-market, enough to make any man wealthy for the rest of his life.

It was a good day.

“Where is Tsoúla?” Tavros asked the fist of his men he came to. “Where is that little slut? I’m filthy, and I need her to wash me. She should be here to greet me after the battle anyhow.”

“She . . . she was taken.”

“What? Explain yourself.”

“A woman came into the camp, a woman like I’ve never seen before. She was tall, long legged, endowed with gigantic breasts, and she had long golden hair. Not blonde. Literally golden. Her skin was gold as well, and her bare nipples were like bronze. She . . . I think the woman hypnotized as all. I couldn’t control my body.”

Tavros looked at the man’s crotch and saw that it was soiled and sticky with premature ejaculate. The man had climaxed just from seeing the golden woman.

“Another goddess, no doubt,” Tavros grumbled.

“The woman put Tsoúla in a trance I think, and she stripped the slave-girl naked before all of it. She pinched one of Tsoúla’s nipples and led her out of camp by it.”

“Where did the goddess take her.”

“To the caves to the South, the ones they call the Mouth of Hades, because of the steam jets inside.”

Tavros grunted angrily as he remounted his demon-horse Deimos. “Secure the camp, begin breaking in our new slaves and tell the men to be vigilant. I should be back by dawn.”


The Mouth of Hades was a large cave system filled with scalding hot pools of water, stream jets, and pink phosphorus crystals that glowed as brightly as torches. As the sun set and the sky grew dark outside, the interior of the cave remained as bright as day, although colored pink and red from the tint of the crystals.

The billowing clouds of steam were so hot that even Tavros’s titanic body broke out into a profuse sweat, and for his comfort he disrobed as he walked, leaving all of his clothing and weapons behind. He knew he would not need them, not with the natural weapon he had swinging between his legs. He continued into the cave completely naked, armed only with his cyclopean muscles and thirteen inch cock.

Tavros came to a large pool with a single massive pink crystal jutting up the center of it, and bound to the crystal by silk knots hung the naked body of Tsoúla. The skinny slut was dripping with sweat, dizzy with heatstroke, and from the looks of her engorged pussy also incredibly horny. Her naked body writhed against the pink crystal, and when she saw Tavros she moaned desperately, and began to orgasm.

“I know you’d come, Tavros. I knew you’d come to save your little slut,” a sultry voice echoed in the cave. “My sister thought herself the Goddess of Wisdom, but what does she know about the ways of women and men. I’m glad you broke her. Saves me the trouble. I hope you enjoyed the feeling of dominating a goddess, mortal stud, because she will be your last. Tonight, I’m going to make you become *my* bitch.”

The golden goddess emerged from the scalding hot waters of the pool, her curly golden hair dripping wet down her firm, voluptuous, curvaceous form. Her skin was indeed golden, and her lips, nipples, and the folds of her swollen pussy were like rich bronze.

“I know you don’t love her of course, this skinny slut,” the goddess said as she ran her hands down the front of Tsoúla’s flat chest, pinching the girl’s nipples, and then spanking her puffy vaginal mound. “She’s not even a person to you. Just property. And you don’t like it when others disrespect your property.”

“You understand me too well, Aphrodite,” Tavros said, guessing the goddess’s identity as he descended into the scalding hot water. He was already erect, and his hard cock jutted almost painfully from his body a full fifteen inches, longer than it had before. He could feel the goddess’s influence saturating his body like poisoned wine. Aphrodite did not just stand before him in her radiant, perfect body; she also oozed through the air and tainted the water with her thick, potent pheromones. She was pure sex on every level.

Aphrodite was busy playing with Tsoúla’s writhing body, torturing the exhausted girl with pinches and nibbles that kept her in a constant state of excruciating orgasm. Aphrodite was bent over, and her big ass was waving right up at Tavros’s hard cock, split deeply down the middle where her juicy pussy literally sparkled with warm honey. Tavros was ready to grab the goddess by her waist and split her big ass in half like a battle-axe shattering a melon, but Aphrodite spun around and kneeled in front of him, bringing her huge breasts up to his cock and enveloping the massive weapon with her soft, oozing, warm flesh.

A small sigh escaped from Tavros’s lips. He had never felt breasts like these before, or skin like this. His cock felt like it was being bathed in molten gold, but it didn’t burn. The heat from Aphrodite’s body swelled into Tavros’s cock and balls, making him feel almost like a being of living magma. As soft as her breasts were though, her nipples were equally rough and erect, and they tickled his flesh like crisp rosebuds.

“On your knee already, whore?” Tavros grunted, trying to resist the influence of Aphrodite’s intense power. “I thought I was going to have to slap the shit out of your first, like I did your pathetic sister.”

“Oh, don’t worry, stud,” Aphrodite said as she began to twirl her wet tongue over his bulbous helmet. “You won’t need to force yourself on me like you did with that little bitch. I am very, very, VERY willing to do this. In fact, there’s nothing I love more than milking a big hard cock like this for every molten drop of sticky savory cum inside. Let me show you.”

Aphrodite began to suck on the bulbous tip of Tavro’s cock like it was made of candy. She moaned loudly as her tongue polished every curve of its salty surface, even wiping underneath his foreskin, running down the groove of his flanged head, and poking deep into his tight urethra. Most women couldn’t handle Tavros’s cock so expertly without risking a dislocation of their jaw, but Aphrodite’s tongue-bathed him as easily as any whore might an average sized penis. Tavros had never enjoyed a proper blowjob because his monstrous trunk was too big to received one . . . but now Aphrodite was playing him like a flute.

Aphrodite began to bob up and down, letting her throat make all those slutty “gluck, gluck” sounds, but even as his violent ramrod began slamming against the back of her throat, Aphrodite never lost control. She even began to play with his balls as they swung closer to her neck, slapping them around and like a naughty child’s ass. She tugged on them and squeezed them, twisting them around in her palms so hard that even Tavros hard to whimper.

“Fucking whore-goddess. You can take it a lot better than your sister can, but just because you can suck my cock doesn’t mean you can dominate me,” Tavros said. “In fact, you look rather submissive like this, on your knees with my cock impaling your throat.”

Tavros leaned over and spat on Aphrodite’s upturned face, making sure to hit her in her open eyes. The sex-goddess wasn’t humiliated at all though. If anything she seemed amused. Her wide mouth curved up into an arrogant smile, and she dove down to the base of his cock so suddenly that her throat nearly broke his cock right down the middle. Aphrodite’s nose stabbed into his hard stomach, and her chin came ramming into his balls so hard that one was nearly popped. At the same time, Aphrodite shoved two of her fingers up Tavros’s anus, and she jabbed at his prostate like she wanted to knock it out of his body.

“You . . . YOU WHORE!” Tavros screamed as he suddenly came, and violently. A tidal wave of semen rushed towards the tip of his cock so fast that his vision blurred, and his heart missed a beat. His cock was bent so awkwardly that it wasn’t a straight shot, and his raging ejaculate began to build up in the middle, forcing his cock to swell painfully. There were tears in his eyes as Tavros grabbed Aphrodite’s head and began to wildly hump it, partly to straighten his cock out, and partly because he was no longer in control of himself. Tavros fucked the goddess’s face so hard that semen jetted out of her nostrils and frothed out of her mouth, and the “gluck, gluck” sound of his sticky shaft sliding in and out of her throat became more of a “THUMP! THUMP!” like he was breaking down a wooden door with an iron hammer.

Tavros drowned Aphrodite with his thick cum, and he fucked her throat so hard that it felt like he was going to break her neck, but even as cum began to ooze down her chin, and tears rolled down her cheeks, Aphrodite never lost control, and she continued to suck Tavros so hard his apple-sized balls nearly imploded. Even on her knees with a titanic stud ejaculating all over her face, Aphrodite remained in the dominant position.

After almost a minute of this painful orgasming, Tavros’s cock finally popped out of Aphrodite’s mouth, and he pumped his last rope of semen across her smiling face. Tavros stood over her grunting and panting like a dying bull, sweat pouring from his body so profusely that it looked like he was standing underneath a shower. His muscles twitched painfully, and his heart thumping so loudly that Aphrodite could feel it through his cock.

“Poor baby,” Aphrodite moaned mockingly as she swallowed the semen on her mouth. “I bet you’re so use to fucking skinny little sluts like that one over there that you’re just not use to real women. Arrogant boy. You thought you could conquer me with a skull-fucking? You stupid, violent, beef-bound faggot. I INVENTED skull-fucking! I was the first being in the universe to put a cock in her mouth and suck it dry . . . or at least . . . I was the first one to do it RIGHT!”

Aphrodite chuckled evilly as she ran her finger down the length of his penis. Tavros whimpered as one last eruption of cum oozed from the tip of his painfully erect cock, and dripped onto the goddess’s breasts. She laughed to herself and pushed her fat tits up, even rubbing them over the shaft of Tavros’s cock, and she gave his helmet a few more kisses, some of them deep and tongue-filled, as if she were kissing her lover.

Aphrodite stood up and shoved her tits into Tavros’s chest. Her bronze nipples were so hard that they actually dented his muscles, and her hot pussy bent his iron-hard cock down at an awkward angle. She puckered her lips and came up for a kiss, but at the last second pulled back and spat out a whole mouthful of spit and semen all over Tavros’s face.

Aphrodite pushed her tits against Tavros again, this time knocking him over, and she laughed as she stood over his defeated body, even putting a foot on his face and pushing it beneath the water. Tavros was so exhausted that he could barely fight back, even as the scalding hot water of the pool filled his lungs.

“See that, little girl?” Aphrodite said over her shoulder to Tsoúla. “I broke your beloved master with nothing but my mouth, despite all the boasting you did on his behalf. ‘Most powerful man in the world,’ my golden ass. I’m actually disappointed I didn’t get to use my divine pussy on him. Other than Hercules I haven’t gotten a decent pounding from a mortal man since-”


Tavros’s massive hand shot up from the steamy water, and grabbed Aphrodite right at her inner-thigh. His iron fingers clenched down on her firm flesh, and despite the sexual curvature of her legs, he still got enough of a grip that he could pry her foot off his face.

“What the fuck!” Aphrodite screamed, trying to stomp Tavros’s head back beneath the surface of the water, but she could not. Her divine buttcoks flexed powerfully, but Tavros’s was overpowering her, and the muscles in his arm began to burn adrenaline and testosterone like oil in a war-machine. Aphrodite couldn’t believe it. She was powerful enough to ride a minotaur, to jerk off a hydra’s hundred cocks, to eat out a thousand Amazons, to exhaust a hundred nymphs, and to even satisfy the erotic hungers of her insatiable father Zeus . . . She could not believe this mortal was lifting her up like some skinny little slut.


Tavos erupted from the water like a human kraken, lifting Aphrodite up over his head by nothing but her open thighs. Scalding hot water poured down his bulging body, and steam rose from his erect cock like it was made of molten iron.

“Fucking beast! Unhand me!” Aphrodite screamed, wriggling and squirming in a pathetic attempt to get free. “Stop pulling my legs apart! My . . . You’re hurting my pussy!”

Tavros let her down just enough for her golden legs to wrap around his bullish neck, and for her piping hot pussy to land on his open mouth. His powerful lips sucked on the delicious juices of her sex, and his hard tongue penetrated her body as deep as any cock. His upper lip folded over her clit and stimulated it as the tip of his tongue began a brutal assault against her g-spot.

Aphrodite had never been eaten like this.

“HOLY FUCK!” Aphrodite screamed, grabbing Tavros’s iron-hard shoulders, and involuntarily humping his face. “WHAT THE FUCK? I’M CUMMING ALREADY!”

Tavros ate pussy like he was a starving man at a feast, and Aphrodite had the most delicious pussy he had ever tasted. He did not savor her though; her consumed her. He ate her rough, even chewing on her clit with his teeth, provoking an uncontrollable flood of cum to gush from her spasming body.

“OH GOD! OH ZEUSZ! FATHER! DADDY! SAVE ME!” Aphrodite screamed as she came, thrusting and grinding her pussy against Tavros’s face until her sparkling cum dripped down his chin.

Tavros bit down on her clit one last time and sucked her last spurt of cum, and then he dropped her on the ground like a sack of shit. Aphrodite grunted from the impact but didn’t stop climaxing. She couldn’t stop climaxing. Her orgasm tortured her body like the talons of a harpy. She writhed and flopped in the shallow water like a fish, and she was unable to resist as Tavros kicked her legs open and aimed his hard cock at her sopping wet pussy.

“I’m your Daddy now, whore,” Tavros said. “I am your Zeus, and this is my thunderbolt.” He then rammed his cock into Aphrodite’s eager cunt, destroying the Goddess of Love with one brutal stroke.


Tavros spent hours destroying Aphrodite in an ever-escalating, sweltering, and violent battle of sex. He held her head underwater and squeezed her throat as he pounded orgasm after orgasm out of her, heightening the pleasure of her climaxes with the fear of asphyxiation, but he’d always pull her up just before she could drown. One time he even fucking her up her ass to force out the water in her lungs so she wouldn’t lose consciousness. Killing a goddess was not an easy task, especially by fucking her to death, but Tavros knew he was capable of it, and so he took great care to keep Aphrodite just on the very edge of extinction for as long as possible without actually fucking her over it.

With what little strength she had Aphrodite tried to hold on to Tavros’s behemoth body, but they were both slippery and wet, and if it hadn’t been for the grip he had on her hair she would have been dragging across the ground.

“Fuck me! Fuck me you true, real, manly GOD! Fuck me hard enough for my father to hear! Fuck his little whore daughter! Show them all what a disgusting slut I am,” Aphrodite wailed and begged, crying hysterically as her pride slowly died with every cock-thrust. Sometime after her tenth mind-shattering orgasm she had simply lost it, and she had devolved into a simpering, self-loathing, degenerate slut. She didn’t want to be a goddess anymore. She just wanted to be Tavros’s fuck-toy.

Tavros would rotate between fucking her mouth, pussy, and ass in whatever order it pleased him, and Aphrodite would injure herself bending into whatever shape he wanted. She contorted her body into angles and shapes that were even beyond her experience, and when Tavros slapped her breasts and bit her nipples she didn’t protest, but begged him to hurt her more. The sick pleasure of her humiliation was the ultimate climax, so she didn’t care if she died. Eternal life without the promise of better sex than this wasn’t worth living.

“Fuck me! Fuck me! Kill my pussy! Fuck me! Break my ass! Fuck me!” Aphrodite kept grunting, each slurring word becoming more incoherent than the last.

“Pathetic beast,” Tavros whispered into her ear with genuine disgust. Even as she desperately tried to kiss him, he would not allow it. He’d pull back from her cock-sucking lips, and spit into her open mouth. “I don’t kiss whores.”

Tavros slammed Aphrodite face first against the cave-wall, and he drove his cock so far up her ass that his balls slammed into her clit. With one hand he held her by her neck, and with the other he slapped her fat tits around while he pulverised her anus with the hardest, heaviest, deepest ass-fucking the very experienced goddess had ever received. Even her father in all his drunken fury had never fucked her this hard, and she had always considered her father to be the most powerful being in the universe.

“Guh, guh, guh, guh,” Aphrodite tried to speak, but all the came out was a wet gurgle of noises as her brain sizzled in an overdose of orgasmic juice.


Tavros’s cock-thrusts became so powerful that they echoed throughout the cave like thunder.


Like a sledgehammer striking marble, it really did sound as though Tavros was going to break the goddess’s golden ass in two. If he did, it would just make her body as broken as her mind.


“TAVROS! YOU GOD! I LOVE YOU! I HATE MYSELF! I LOVE YOU!” Aphrodite screamed with her last conscious thought, and then she began to spasm until she lost her mind, and her body vacated its contents onto the cave floor.

“You . . . Lose . . . Whore,” Tavros all but whispered, and then he roared like a lion in pain as he finally came, unloading a nearly lethal amount of semen so far up Aphrodite’s ass that she could taste it. He held her body tight for a few moments as the mind-numbing climax stunned his body like a cold shock, and he pumped the rest into her with a few heavy thrusts.


Each thrust slammed her head and breasts against the cave-wall, and from the impacts cracks began to form.


“Tavros . . . (gasp) . . . the cave is collapsing!” Tsoúla cried out with the last of her own energy. Tavros had left her to hang naked from the crystal in the middle of the spring for the entire night, and the poor girl was aching all over. Her arms and legs were strained from the bonds, and her pussy was painfully engorged from watching her sexual idol fucking like a godly champion, and yet she was unable to touch herself. Still, just from watching, Tsoúla had suffered more than few orgasms of her own.

Tavros looked around and saw massive chunks of the cave’s ceiling caving in. Still, he took a few moments to aim his spurting cock at Aphrodite’s vacant face, and he unloaded the rest of his thick cum into her eyes and open mouth, and he finished with her by wiping his dirty cock clean with her golden hair.

“Ha. I guess I shouldn’t have fucked this whore against a retaining wall,” Tavros said with casual humor, and he went to untie his slave.

Tavros ripped Tsoúla’s bounds off with his bare hands, and then he tossed her naked body over his broad shoulders. The ninety pound girl weighed nothing more than a feather to him, and her perky butt looked no larger than a peach next to his head.

“We’re leaving,” Tavros said, giving Tsoúla a sharp slap on her ass, making her squeal and wiggle on his shoulder.

“But, what about Aphrodite?” Tsoúla asked even as she desperately humped Tavros’s shoulder. “The ceiling will crush her!”

“Fuck her,” Tavros said. “She’s a goddess. Even if the rocks bury her for a hundred years she’ll live . . . Or maybe she won’t. I don’t really care.”

As Tavros left for the cave’s entrance he didn’t bother to look back at the goddess he had ruined, but Tsoúla did, and she saw Aphrodite crawling across the floor in puddle of her own fluids. Aphrodite raised her hand up as if begging Tavros to come back for her, her beautiful face shattered with insanity.

“Tavros . . . come back . . . I-”


A massive boulder crushed Aphrodite into the ground, followed by another, and then another, burying the goddess underneath several tonnes of rock, where she’d likely remain until another god bothered to dig her out. But that might not be for a very . . . Very . . . Very long time.


“Tavros . . . my lord . . . thank you for saving me,” Tsoúla gasped as her carried her naked body back to camp. He was naked as well, and she wiggled and gyrated her flat chest against his titanic form like a hedonistic worshipper. She kissed him all over, from his face, to his chest, to his stomach, even to his hard cock and balls. It didn’t matter that the entire camp was watching, they had all had their way with her numerous times, and she wanted nothing more than for Tavros to fuck her right there, even if it killed her. Her pussy was dripping for it, and fireworks were going off in her nipples she was so horny.

“Oh Tavros. Oh Tavros. Oh Tav-”

As soon as Tavros was back at camp he dropped Tsoúla’s naked body into a pile of mud and horse-shit, dropping her into the filth face-first.

“I didn’t save you for your own sake, girl,” Tavros said as he aimed the bulbous head of his cock over her muddy face. “You are my property, slave, and no one steals Tavros’s property, whether it is his most prized sword, his lowliest slut, or even his toilet.”

“Toilet?” Tsoúla asked, wiping mud from her face.

Tavros groaned as his bulking muscles relaxed, and his erect cock unleashed a steaming shower of urine directly onto Tsoúla’s face. The hot golden liquid washed the mud from her face and ran down her chest and stomach. Tavos urinated just like he ejaculated: copiously.

“Yes,” Tavros chuckled. “I’m demoting you from my slave to being my toilet, because of how much trouble you’ve been recently.”

Tsoúla knew she should feel humiliated. The whole camp was laughing at her, and Tavros wasn’t even finished with her yet, but his urine was warm and strong, and like everything else about him, it intoxicated her.

“Thank you . . . Lord Tavros,” Tsoúla meekly said, and she opened her mouth so she could be a better toilet for him.


Tavros did not bother to get dressed or to rearm. He went back to his tent to eat a quick feast of lamb and dates, to fuck a few of his new Amazon and nymph whores, and to drink a carafe of wine. Then he left camp and began hiking to the summit of the tallest nearby hill. No one questioned why Tavros chose to ascend to the summit completely naked, with his big cock slapping against his legs as he walked, since he had just defeated an army of Amazons, and army of nymphs, and defeated two goddesses in sexual combat in less than one day. Tavros’s legend was all but assured at this point, but he wasn’t done yet.

When Tavros came to the hilltop, he found what he was expecting, a shrine to the Olympian gods. There was a small marble figure for each of them, most prominent being the statues of Zeus and his queen, Hera. Zeus’s marble figure was much like his own, muscular and hulking, with a massive cock hanging down from his naked waist. Hera was sculpted like a sexual fantasy, with massive breasts and wide hips, and her pose was unmistakably erotic despite also appearing authoritative.

Tavros chuckled with contempt, and he snapped off Zeus’s marble cock like it was a twig. Tavros started playing with the statue of Hera, running his hands all over her cold breasts and thighs, before her got bored and finally smashed the statue to pieces with a single punch. Hera’s head rolled away, but her breasts fell to Tavros’s feet, and he began to slowly masterbate looking at them.

“I don’t know what other gods there are who wish to fight with me,” Tavros yelled up to the heavens, “but if you are listening, let us finish this now!”


The sky split open as a massive purple lightning bolt fell from Olympus, struck Tavros’s body, and carried him to the realm of the gods.


Tavros awoke in a throneroom, that much he could tell, but it was a room unlike any he had ever imagined. The ceiling was hundreds of feet above him, and it was a swirling mass of cosmic energy. The floor was solid pink marble, yet it was as warm as a woman’s flesh, and the air was thick with sensual perfumes that were not of earth. There were hallucinogenic plants all around him, as well as steaming pools of wine, and massive beds large enough to host dozens of sleeping bodies, or fucking orgy-goers.

“Get up . . . You human shit,” a powerful woman’s voice boomed throughout the air. “Get your ass up and let us finish this mockery of war, so that I might crush your body and destroy your soul. My foolish step-daughters may have broken beneath your massive, titanic, disgusting cock, but those sluts deserved what they got. Pathetic, weak, second-generation gods that they are. Don’t think yourself powerful for dominating such weak pussies as them. Now you face a true goddess, a queen, a daughter of a titan!”

Tavros rose to his feet and gazed upon the powerful goddess speaking to him. She was tall, taller than him, probably almost eight feet, but it was hard to tell because she was sitting on a massive marble throne, naked. She sat with her massive chest thrust upward, showing off how her colossal breasts defied gravity, and also the way her stomach pulsated with muscles as chiselled as his own. She sat with her legs spread open to reveal her thick pussy lips, and the way her fat clit stood up almost three inches from her vulva. Her massive heap of curly black hair was held up by a golden crown, which was the only thing she wore. Her face was beautiful, contemptuous, and just slightly masculine because of her strong chin and rigid cheekbones, but that did nothing to change to the fact that this goddess was the most powerfully sexual presence Tavros had ever felt, and even if his eyes were closed he knew he would see her, shining like a radiant orgasmic nova.

“Hera,” Tavros gasped, and he immediately winced in pain as his cock sprang to full rigidness. It was as if her name alone was pure sex, and saying it aloud caused him to almost ejaculate. “Queen of the gods. So even you wish to test yourself against me?”

Hera stood up from her throne, and the sky above seethed with hot energy. Her breasts swelled like angry stormclouds, and her three-inch clit swelled like an angry cock, as if it was her body designed to penetrate the male’s.

“This is not my test, you monster,” Hera growled. “This is your execution.”

Hera descended from her throne with a look of utter contempt, and although she seemed to be a mile away, with just two steps she was towering in front of Tavros, with her colossal breasts rising up into his face.


Hera’s tits hit Tavros in his face like two massive sacks of flour thrown by a cyclops, and at the same time she raised her knee up into his balls so hard that he was lifted from the ground.

Tavros hit the ground rolling, and his landslide of a body didn’t stop until it came crashing into a marble column. The hard rock shattered and crumbled around Tavros’s body, and the column came crashing down like a fallen tree.

Tavros tried to get up, but his mind was filled with stars, and before he could clear it, Hera was grabbing him by his head and pulling him up to his knees.


Hera sent her knee right into Tavros’s face. It struck with the force of a meteorite, and Tavros would have gone flying across the room again had Hera not grabbed onto his shoulders, pulled him back for more, and slammed her knee into his gut.


Tavros wheezed and fell to the ground, nearly puking his guts out. He was not sure if he was going to pass out from the pain or not. He had fought cyclopes, giants, and krakens, but this woman had just kicked his ass harder than any five monsters he had ever faced combined, and she had not even broken a sweat doing it. This was as one sided a beatdown as the Nemean Lion fighting a kitten. She stood over him with an arrogant smirk on her marble face, one which Tavros could barely see past her gargantuan breasts.

“I do love to see a man on his knees,” Hera chuckled. “But I prefer my sluts to prostrate themselves even lower than that. Let me help you.”

Hera put her foot on the back of Tavros’s head and stomped it into the marble floor so hard that the marble cracked.

Tavros frothed at the mouth as his consciousness slipped away. For the first time since he was a young boy, he had been defeated, never before by a woman of and kind, and it had been a humiliating ass-kicking.

Hera kicked Tavros in his side until he rolled onto his back, and then she squatted down on his face. A burst of hot, wine-flavored pussy-juice gushed from her thick vagina, and it filled Tavros’s mouth as he slipped into a coma.

That last thing he saw was Hera’s fat cunt grinding against his face, and the last thing he heard was her malicious laughter rocking the heavens.


When Tavros awoke he felt weak, drunk, sloppy, and painfully aroused. The arousal was normal; Tavros usually awoke with an iron-hard erection that could take hours to satisfy, but he usually awoke like a tiger ready to hunt. He had never felt so . . . *lethargic.*

His vision was blurry, but as it cleared he looked around, and he saw that he was in a place far different from the beautiful purple heaven he had been in, before Hera kicked his ass.

The room was vast and possibly infinitely large, just as Hera’s throneroom had been, but instead of the cosmos for a ceiling this place looked to be underground, close to the center of the earth. The only light came from ghostly lamps that burned bright blue, and from the red glow of several thick pools of molten rock. The air was hot and thick with the scent of sulfur and sex, and it echoed with the screams and whimpers of mortal souls being tortured. All around him hung the wracked bodies of men and women, some with large logs of wood shoved up their sexual orifices, others dangling from the roof by nothing but their nipple-piercings, and others put into positions that would have been instantly lethal to a living person . . . but these souls weren’t living . . . they were dead.

“Welcome to Hades, slut,” Hera said, stepping into Tavros’s view.

Hera looked like a wet-dream mixed with a nightmare, a hundred sexual disorders and fetishes mixed into one. Her huge nipples were covered by painful looking clamps, and her breasts were held up by excruciatingly tight straps of leather. Leather gloves and boots encased her limbs, and her pussy was cut right down the middle by an agonizingly tight little thong. She had makeup on now as well; thick black lipstick, oily mascara, and dark purple eyeshadow.

Tavros’s cock grew so erect that he thought it was going to split right down the middle.

“Can’t get enough, can you, you beast?” Hera asked, strutting forward slowly on sharply steep high-heels. She had a riding-crop in her hand, and she cracked it against her own ass as she walked, leaving deep red welts along her boulderous ass.

Tavros couldn’t answer. There was a dildo shoved down his throat.

“You fucking love this, don’t you, your big muscled faggot?” Hera said, walking onto the bed that Tavros was tied down to, standing over him like his executioner. “You were out for a while, bitch. For a couple hours I thought you might die, but you heal well for a mortal. Good. I have so many delicious tortures planned for you. I’m going to fuck you until you cry, Tavros. I’m going to keep you on the verge of an orgasm for the next hundred years, but never let you pop. That’s what all this is designed for, your hopeless bitch. Hades designed this chamber especially for me, and I’ve filled it with all the souls who have displeased me most. This bed you’re on was designed for my most hated enemy, Hercules. The sheets are soaked with poison and aphrodisiacs, and that dildo in your mouth was used to deflower a hundred nymphs. Hercules escaped my clutches, but you won’t. I’m going to make you beg for death, Tavros. I’m going to make make you call me ‘Mommy,’ and suck my nipple like a helpless babe. The only thing you’ll drink is my cum, and the only thing you’ll eat is my ass. I’ll deny your orgasm for days, weeks, years even if I have to, until you beg me to let you cum, knowing that the release will probably destroy you, and then I’m going to cut your balls off with my teeth and eat them.”


Hera slapped Tavros’s cock with her riding crop, and his torture began.

Hera spun around and squatted on his chest, shoving her huge ass in his face, and she lowered her mouth onto his throbbing cock. Her mouth suckered down on his helmet like a hot octopus, and her tongue slithered over his shaft like a long, wet, agile slug.

“MMMMPH!! MMMMPH!!” Tavros screams were muffled by the dildo stuck in his throat, which made the erotic pain so much worse . . . and better. He thought he was going to cum. He thought his cock was going to explode and his balls would detonate right then . . . but they didn’t.

Hera’s head bobbed up and down on his fifteen-inch shaft even slicker and faster than Aphrodite did, going all the way down until his cockhead broke onto her stomach. Her hands knocked his apple-sized testicles around like she was trying to crack an egg. Her saliva was blisteringly hot, and it oozed down his scrotum like fiery lava, making him scream and writhe in pain and pleasure. His body shook, his muscles swelled, tears rolled down his cheeks, and a profuse sweat cascaded down his body, soaking the bed, causing him to absorb more of the poison laced in the sheets.

Tavros wanted to cum. He needed to cum. He felt as though if he didn’t ejaculate in a few moment he would certainly die. His heart was threatening to explode, and the rate at which he was perspiring was literally dehydrating him to death.

Still, he did not cum . . . And if that dildo hadn’t been muffling his voice, he would have begged the goddess Hera to let him. He would have begged like a little slut.

“Mmmmm . . . Told you,” Hera said as she finally came off of his engorged dick, her plump limbs dripping with saliva. Tavros’s cock was so swollen that it was purple, and the veins in it were beating with his heart. “The poison saturating your body is a mixture of centaur blood, satyr semen, gorgon milk, and nymph nipple. It’s the most powerful aphrodisiac known to the gods, perfected by Aphrodite herself, ironically, and it has the extra benefit of shutting your urethra tighter than an airtight drum, preventing you from cumming. Unfortunately, the poison is extremely lethal. A single drop of it would have been enough to kill you back in the mortal world . . .But in Hades there is no death. The pain just multiplies . . . And multiples . . . And multiples . . . until your soul explodes.”

Just to prove her point, Hera pushed the tip of her pinky finger against the opening of Tavros’s urethra, and she began to shove it in. Tavros had experimented with almost every sexual practice known to mortals, included homosexuality (which he enjoyed), but the one thing he had always avoided was urethral penetration.

Hera knew that. That’s why she was doing it.

“Oh my . . . what a tight little hole you have here. Are you a urethral virgin, Tavros? How cute. Maybe I should pop your cherry. Whatta say, cock-sucker? Wanna see how deep my pinky can go?” Hera chuckled.

Tavros tried to scream “NO!,” but even before he could make his muffled cry, Hera plunged her pinky finger into his dick, burying it all the way to the final knuckle.

Tavros’s brain exploded as his body experienced all of the physiological symptoms of an orgasm, except he did not ejaculate, and instead of relieving the tension in his body, the tension continued to build . . . And build . . . And build . . . until everything became a burning fog.


What followed felt like an eternity of nightmarish sex, rape, and humiliation. It probably was an eternity, but time did not exist in Hades as it did in the mortal world, and what felt like a thousand years to Tavros might have only been a few hours back home.

Her remembered the dominatrix-goddess Hera pulling the dildo from his throat and affixing it to a belt she fastened to herself. Even with his throat clear, Tavros was too dumbfounded to speak, and all that came out were incoherent grunts and slurs as Hera used the spit-slickened dildo to impale his asshole. She bent him over the side of the bed and pounded his muscular ass just as hard as he had to Athena and Aphrodite . . . Harder, actually. Hera was a powerhouse. Her thrusts moved the bed across the floor, and slammed the headboard against the earthen wall so hard that the earth shook. Some of the tortured bodies hanging from the roof fell, most of them landing in the magma river. Their screams of excruciating ecstasy travelled for miles. Hera barely noticed them though. Their souls were just sparks in her sexual inferno.

Hera wrapped her arms around Tavros’s neck and pulled back as she pounded his ass, bending his behemoth body into an upward horseshoe, nearly snapping his spine and bending his abdominals to the breaking point. She reached down and grabbed his cock with one hand, flogging it so hard that all of Hades echoed with a “WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!”

Tavros was not able to cum, but Hera was, and she did, often. The friction of obliterating his asshole was enough for her to climax, and she did several times, each catharsis provoking a girlish fit of laughter, followed by deep womanly roars. Hera’s pussy gushed with liquid fire, and when her orgasms became too wild to control, she undid the belt and climbed atop of Tavros so she could hump his face and cum in his mouth, all the while leaving the dildo impaled deep in his man-pussy. Her huge clit swelled to a grotesque four inches, and she made Tavros suck it like it was a penis, causing her juice to gush down his chin and all over his chest.

Hera was not the only one who exploited Tavros in his debilitated state. Frolicking demons and ravenous Erinyes populated Hades, and when their lustful gazes turned to Tavros’s beefy body they grew hungry, and to a few dozen of them Hera lent her toy. The demons were of all shapes and colors, some in the form of females, some male, but most were hermaphroditic, with sopping wet pussies to swallow Tavros’s penis, and hard cock to fuck his ass and mouth.

Hera led the orgy like a ringleader in a demented circus, and Tavros was her abused animal. She’d whip the demons with her riding crop, hurring one after the other so that they all got a turn, and she’d chase away the smaller ones in favor of demons with the biggest, thickest, most brutal cocks and tentacles. When Tavros wasn’t getting fucked by the demons, Hera would fuck him herself, either with a dildo up his ass, or by riding his cock like a bull. Hera could break a bull, and she was proving it by breaking Tavros. She’s bounce on his cock so hard that the bed would crack down the middle, and her huge breasts would bounce just outside of his reach. Her erect nipples began spraying warm, nourishing milk, but like the waters of Tantalus, Tavros could never reach them, and instead the milk was sucked up by the sexiest demons that Hera would allow to attend her.

The only thing worse than getting fucked, was *not* getting fucked.

For many long, soul-breaking hours, Tavros was left to hang from a wall with a gag in his mouth, a dildo up his ass, but absolutely nothing touching his penis. The pain of not being touched was worse than getting his balls crushed by a hammer, and he would have rather Hera killed him there and then, rather than let his cock twitch painfully in the air, ignored.

Hera kept busy though. While Tavros hung, she entertained company on the bed, sometimes fucking some adorable little goddess or nymph just inches away from the tip of Tavros’s cock. Hera would tease Tavros with whatever cute pussy she had at the moment, and dangly the little nymph slut so close to him that he would feel the sex-spirit’s body-heat, but Hera would never let them touch. Tavros was be able to smell them, to taste them, and sometimes when Hera’s thrusts became powerful enough, a drop of cum would fly onto his body, and even that small stimulation felt like the sting of a giant wasp.

Tavros was reunited with Athena and Aphrodite this way. Hera had them both dragged in by their hair, and she began fucking them in turns even more violently than Tavros. Aphrodite’s golden body was still filthy with dirt, having been dug out of her tomb just hours before, and Hera didn’t even allow her step-daughter a bath before slamming her pussy apart with a giant ivory dildo, and breaking her ass with a jagged ebony pole.

Athena was passed around by the demons like a cum-rag, and by the end of it she was limp, bruised, and comatose, but left with the most disturbingly satisfied smile on her face. She was the Goddess of Wisdom no more, since she had no mind left to hold Wisdom with. She was just a warm fuck-bag, an immortal sex-toy to be played with and abused. She was also used as a toilet more than once, but she didn’t seem to mind.

Hera took both her daughters at the same time, slapping one on top of the other, and railing them both with a special dildo that forked outward with two shafts. One for Athena, one for Aphrodite, and all of it just inches away from Tavros who would have sold his soul for just a moment of relief.

“Mmm . . . Mmmm . . . CUMMING!!” Hera moaned triumphantly, and she plowed into her daughters one last time. Her erect nipples sprang up so hard that milk began to shoot out of them, and it doused the bodies of the two broken goddesses beneath her. Hera pulled one of her spurting nipples up into her own mouth, and she drank deeply. Even gods got hungry, and there was nothing more nourishing than the warm milk of a goddess. Tavros would have murdered a hundred innocent people just to suck on one of Hera’s nipples for a brief second.

Hera pulled out of her daughters and stumbled over to Tavros. She was exhausted, but her body still radiated power like an angry sun. She was intimidating and ferocious, so much so that the demons around her feared to approach, but as soon as she left her daughters alone they swarmed. Athena and Aphrodite were pulled into two different directions by dozens of groping hands. Aphrodite was dragged down a pit of black sludge by a gigantic tentacle, and Athena was lifted by her hair into the air by a lesbian harpy, who carried her off to the nest where the other demons bred.

“I win,” Hera gasped as she pressed her wet, naked body against Tavros. “It’s settled. I’m the most sexually powerful.” Hera licked her lips and moaned as she realized she was still ogasming. “Tavros . . . You slut . . . I beat you . . . I own you . . . It’s over.”

Tavros’s huge body just shook with a painful need to cum.

“It’s alright . . . you can cum now . . . I’ll give you permission . . . If you call me ‘Mommy.'”

Tavros’s whole body was shaking like an epliepdic. “Ma . . . Ma-ma . . .”

“That’s right, baby, sound it out. ‘Momm.’ All you have to do is say ‘Mommy’ and I’ll let you cum.”

“Ma . . . Maaaaa,”

“Oh, you’re so close baby. Just say ‘Mommy’ and I’ll end it for you. I’ll put baby out of his fucking misery. Now say it. Say ‘Mommy’ you fucking shit. Say ‘Mommy’ and admit defeat.”

” . . . Mommy,” Tavros whimpered.

Hera chuckled mirthlessly. She’d done it. She’d one. “Good baby.”

Hera grasped his cock with both hands and began to stroke it gently. The swollen purple head of his cock pushed against her breasts, and she began to spray her milk all over his chest and stomach. The poison with had saturated his body for an eternity was finally beginning to wear off, and like a universe being torn asunder, Tavros felt his urethra expanding.

“Cum and die, you fucking beast,” Hera whispered into his ear, her hot breath sticking to his skin. “Cum and die.”


Tavros’s cock erupted like a volcano, sending a single strand of thick, boiling semen ten feet into the air. The rope came down upon them both in a single piece, streaming over the top of Hera’s head, her muscular back, her breasts, her forearm, and all over Tavros’s face. His orgasm poured out of him like an ocean pouring through the eye of a needle, and their sheer pressure of his denied climax almost ripped his soul apart.

“Oh . . . oh yes . . . I’m so good . . . I’m so fucking good.” Hera moaned as her body melted into a glorious orgasmic state. “Worship me, mortal. Worship me, you fucking slut. Worship me, cum your brains out, and then just fucking die. Your life is nothing but a fuck to me. Worship me with all of your cum, and die. You . . . Little . . . Bitch.”

She pushed her pussy against Tavros’s bursting cock, and they were both overcome with a sensation like melting butter. She gyrated against him and pushed her breasts against his chest until milk poured down his chest and abs, all the while his semen was still blasting upward, caking the underside of her breasts, chin, and some even flying upwards onto her shoulders.

Hera even kissed him, smacking her powerful lips over Tavros’s and shoving her tongue deep into his mouth, so deep that his gag reflex kicked in and he began to choke on it. Hera reached between her own legs and grabbed his cock. She pulled it down and began to grind her pussy against it, forcing his cum to ejaculate out in heavy spurts, one after the other, each spiralling several feet away, until it slowly began to ooze down her thighs.

Hera bit down on his tongue and lips, and she came again . . . Or, more accurately, her overlapping series of multiple orgasms came to an exhausting crescendo, and her muscular body finally relaxed, went soft, and she gushed a final explosion of cum onto Tavros’s defeated body.

“I . . . I am so beautiful,” Hera gasped in victory. Her legs were shaking so much she could no longer stand, and she fell back onto the bed, gasping for air like a dying woman, and dripping with so much sweat it looked like she had just gotten out of a bath.

The two titans of sex spent the next hour just gasping and moaning, their bodies aching in sweet pleasure, and tingling with post-coital pain. Hera felt her strength returning, and when it did, she knew she would be more powerful than ever, maybe even powerful enough to topple her husband Zeus, and claim the throne of Olympus for herself. Tavros though . . . he would most likely die. There was a type of death that could be had in Hades, but it was rarely achieved. It only occurred when a soul was so exhausted, so broken, so dominated, that it simply ceased to exist. Hera had brought Tavros to that point, and now his existence hung by a thread.

“Congratulations, my queen,” a nasally, bratty, obnoxious voice said.

Hera was too tired to move, but she looked up to see Eris standing above her, the goddess who had started this whole mess by suggesting Tavros as a challenge.

“Eris . . . I won . . . I’m the most sexually powerful . . . I succeeded where my worthless daughters failed, and I . . . (pant, pant) . . . I dominated this man. His soul is finished. Gaze upon . . . Gaze upon my glory. Give me that fucking Golden Apple!”

Eris gave Hera nothing but a wry smirk. The Goddess of Discord actually looked a little high, and her messy blonde hair reeked of marijuana and opium. She held up the Golden Apple that Hera desired . . . and then she took a bite out of it.


“Mmmm . . . tasty,” Eris said as the golden juices of the magic apple oozed down her chin, and dripped onto her firm breasts.

“You . . . YOU BITCH!!” Hera screamed, even though it hurt her body to exert her voice that much. “That’s my prize! I deserve it! You said you would give it to the winner!”

Eris shrugged and giggled. “I lied.”

Tavros looked up, his limp body still hanging from the wall, his soul moments from eternal death.

” . . . Mother,” he gasped.

“Mother?” Hera repeated.

Eris giggled again. “Surprise! Tavros is my son. Surely you would have guessed by now that such a powerful being as him had to be at least a demigod. Yep. His dad was this super hunky Spartan champion who I witnessed defeating a gorgon sorceress in sexual combat . . . and well . . . I just had to rape the shit out of him. I was so crazy horny that I forgot to have him pull out . . . and well . . . nine months later Tavros dropped out of my pussy. Little bastard. I just love him bunches, especially after he got older and I took his virginity. His cock is even bigger than his father’s.”

“This . . . this was a trick all along!” Hera realized.

“No shit, retard,” Eris laughed, kicking the goddess Hera right in her vulva. “I knew I wasn’t powerful enough to take you on myself. Not yet anyway. I will be once I steal your power. Athena and Aphrodite I could have taken maybe, but not you, you fucking dyke. You’re like, the Goddess of Steroids and Big-Ugly-Muscles or something. My son though . . . I figured he had a chance.”

“Mother . . . help me,” Tavros begged, seconds away from obliteration.

Eris rolled her eyes, took a few more bites of her golden apple, and then held the rest in front of her son’s mouth like she was feeding a sick dog. Tavros eat the rest of the apple, and the magical sustenance of its golden fruit revitalized him, just saving him from eternal death.

“You’re lucky I love you so much, you fucking loser,” Eris said as she fed her son. “You look fucking pathetic, by the way. Like a complete faggot.”

Hera rolled onto the floor and tried to crawl away, but her big breasts dragged across the floor, and she was too weak to make it more than a few feet. Eris grabbed Hera by her ankle, and dragged her back. Eris kicked Hera in her side, rolled her over, and spread the older goddess’s thick legs wide open, and pulled Hera’s pussy up over her head.

“Not so fast, your majesty,” Eris snickered. “I’m not fucking done with you. I need to finish the job my little bitch son couldn’t.”

“No . . . no . . . no,” Hera cried and begged, but there was no stopping it.

Eris leaned down, kissed Hera right on her fat clit, sucked it into her mouth, and began to chew on it with the most cruel, wicked blowjob Hera had ever received. The already exhausted goddess was defenseless and drained, so it wasn’t more than a minute before her fat pussy began to melt, and she was gushing cum all over her vacant, mindless, comatose face. Eris ate Hera’s pussy like it was made of cake, and the younger goddess wasn’t afraid to shove her tongue deep into Hera’s ass as well, probing her, tongue-fucking her, making her cum harder, and harder, and harder . . . until the last twig of Hera’s resolve snapped, and she broke.



Mortals still remember the day the gods fell. Athena and Aphrodite simply vanished, their ravished souls never to escape the darkest orgy-pits of Hades, but the real beginning of the end came when a fiery meteor crashed into the earth. The meteor was shaped like a woman, a woman with massive breasts and a titanic ass, a woman who had once been the queen of the gods. Her broken husband came not long after, his perfect body pushed beyond its physical limits by the insatiable lust of a new power in Olympus. The rest of the gods came after; Ares, Hermes, Demeter, Artemis, and Dionysus; falling from the sky not because they refused to surrender . . . but because the goddess who defeated them didn’t desire her surrender . . . all she desired . . . was Discord.

Thus the reign of Eris began.

Posted on

Mark’s Comeuppance

by markydaysaid

Mark the Barbarian’s vision was blurry, and his head swam with vertigo, but through the mental fog he could see that he was in a room; a dark room dimply lit by a shaded window and a dozen psychedelically colored lamps. No, not lamps. They were crystals.

He was upright, and his arms were above his head, but when he tried to move he found that he was restrained by an uncomfortable assortment of leather straps and cuffs, one cord of which dug deep into the crack of his buttocks like a tight thong. He was naked, and his substantially large endowment was hanging free in the warm air of the dark room. More than that, he was horny. As the drugs that stupefied him slowly wore off, his body filled with the familiar aching of sexual tension; a tugging in his loins that he would do anything to relieve. His cock started to harden, straighten, and and he foreskin peeled back until his massive erection looked like a heavy club protruding from his waist.

He realized that the warm room was damp as well. Clammy. Sweaty. It stank of sex, there were cum stains on the carpets and pillows, and he saw that every shelf was full of all kinds of demented sex-toys, from regularly sized didlos to gargantuanly enlarged weapons of the most brutal sort, all of them studded and bumps and grooves to stimulate erogenous zones he didn’t realize existed. He was certain that some of those dildos weren’t designed for human vaginas, but rather for gorgons and centaur-mares.

The drugs wore off, Mark felt his strength return, but even as his bulging muscles strained against the leather cords, he could not move more than an inch. Mark was strong enough to snap a bull’s neck, and wrestle a giantess to the ground, but these straps held him in such a compromised position that he was nothing more than a muscular fly the web of some dominatrix-spider.

“Where . . . where the fuck am I?” Mark grumbled. He aching in his cock was unbearable. Already it was straining upwards to its full erection, being no less than twelve inches long and as thick as a girl’s wrist. Mark’s cock was his greatest strength, but certainly also his greatest weakness. Mark could fuck a giantess into a coma, or a impregnate a hundred nymphs in a single night, but that his cock got him into as much trouble as it got him out of.When he got horny, he couldn’t think straight, or sometimes at all, and it wasn’t until he fucked something that he could return to normal.Entire villages had suffered his horny wrath if he had to go even a few days without release, and if all get was one poor little girl traveling by herself . . . well . . . her pussy would never be the same.

His heart began to beat like an angry drum, and his testicles felt as heavy as stones. If Mark didn’t get to cum soon he was going to be in trouble.

“Welcome to my humble abode, barbarian,” a smooth, sexy, and haughty voice greeted him. It was the voice of an older woman, and just from the heft of it Mark could tell she had huge breasts. He had a talent for judging a woman’s bust just from her voice. “Take a good look around. I hope you like it, because this sex-dungeon is going to be the last thing you ever see.”

The woman stepped into Mark’s field of vision, swaggering her curvaceous body like a tigress in heat. She was tall, buxom to the extreme, but with a narrow waist, muscular stomach, firm legs, and a big ass like a wrecking-ball. Her skin was creamy white, which contrasted radically with the black latex corset and booty-shorts she wore, along with her long black hair and dark eyes. Her nipples were no pronounced that Mark could see them through the latex. They looked just as painfully erect as his cock was.

“Feeling it yet, baby?” the woman asked, her voice oozing like warm honey.

The woman pressed her fingertip against the underside of Mark’s cock and slid it upward, all the way to the enraged tip.

“FUCK!” Mark cried from the sheer erotic shock of her touch. “What . . . what have you done to me, you fucking whore!”

The woman sneered dominantly, and then flicked the tip of his cock with her finger, like she was swatting at a bug.

“Watch your language, bitch. In case you’re too stupid to realize it (which I’m guessing you are), I’m the one in control here. I’ve got you tied up in my secret sex-dungeon, and your friends don’t know where you are. You’re tied up and hanging from my ceiling like a cum-stuffed piñata, completely at my sadistic mercy. Oh, and I’ve been saturating your body with enough aphrodisiacs to kill a stallion. Got it?”

Mark’s body broke out into a hot sweat, making his chiselled muscles glisten like wet metal in the dim light of the room. His cock began to visibly pulsate, becoming intolerably erect. His captor took notice, and she moaned with satisfaction deep in her chest. She looked him over and licked her lips, as if she wanted to literally devour this powerful boy.

“Who . . . the fuck . . . are you?” Mark grunted.

The woman sneered, reach out, grabbed one of his nipples, and twisted it.

“OUCH!” Mark whined.

“You are to address me as Mistress! Understand, bitch?” she asked, twisted harder.

“YES! FUCK! STOP! Alright . . . who are you, Mistress?”

The woman chuckled to herself and gentle grasped Mark’s mammoth appendage with both hands, very gently stroking it with her fingertips, causing Mark an indescribable amount of sexual pain.

“My name is Carmella Thicke, formally a witch of the Purple Haze Coven, you know the one.”

“Oh shit,” Mark grunted. “Briar!”

“That’s right,” Carmella said, with a beautiful but frightening snarl on her face. “Briar and I were witch-sisters . . . before you came along with this ridiculously big cock of yours and fucked everything up. The Coven hasn’t been the same without Briar. It’s gotten . . . well . . . boring without my favorite bisexual party-animal around. No one ate my pussy like Briar did . . . no one.”

Carmella reached over to a table and grabbed a strange looking candle. It was grotesquely thick and oddly shaped. It’s yellowish white wax was the color of semen, and a sickly addictive smell emanated from the tiny orange flame at the tip.

Carmella held the lit candle directly over the tip of Mark’s erect penis, aiming right for the meatus of his urethra, and she tipped it over, pouring hot wax directly into his cock.

“FFFFFUUUUUCKKK!!” Mark screamed as the scalding hot wax oozed down his urethra, slowly hardening as it went. Mark shook like he was in epileptic shock, and he even foamed at the mouth as he strained against the bounds, but they held fast, and he was left hanging there nearly senseless. It wasn’t pain that he felt either, rather it was the desperate sort of pleasure a man felt when his cock got as hard as steel, and any sensation at all was welcome. Mark’s muscular body was pushed through all the physiological symptoms of an orgasm, just without actually ejaculating, leaving him drooling and shaking like an overfucked whore.

“Good. That will stop you from cumming . . . no matter what,” Carmella said with a self-satisfied laugh, and she leaned over to give Mark as kiss on his cheek, causing her huge breasts to push against his chest. “Just hang out, big boy, and let your Mistress get everything ready.”

Carmella turned and let her big ass rub against Mark’s balls and cock, causing him to gurgle incoherently with pleasure. She strutted around the room with a casual, confident stride, getting things just perfect for Mark’s destruction. She selected a wax cylinder with some smooth, sexy music and put it on the phonograph she had in the corner. Then she threw some logs into the iron stove, warming the room to almost uncomfortable levels. With every step she slowly stripped off her latex clothing, first freeing her gargantuan breasts from their tight constraints. Mark strained to get a look at her nipples, but they were covered by black pasties in the shapes of ‘Xs, and that small denial was enough to almost physically hurt him. She peeled down her latex booty-shorts next, revealing a tight little thong underneath.

Carmella grabbed a bottle of massage-oil and began liberally dumping it all over her breasts and stomach, moaning loudly to herself as she rubbed it in with her hands. She came back to Mark like this, shimmering erotically like a living statue, her big tits shining like two globes of polished silver, and with the most arrogant look on her face imaginable.

“Do you want me to touch you, Mark?” she asked breathlessly.

Mark had forgotten how to say “yes” but he did grunt and plead with his eyes.

Carmella got close, so close that he could feel the heat from her thighs caressing his agonizingly hard penis. She leaned over, slowly bringing her juicy lips down towards his cock, preparing to kiss his penis’s helmet with her big, succulent,wet, hot mouth . . . but she didn’t. Instead Carmella stopped a millimeter from his penis, and she just blew on it.

“Fu-fu-fu-fu-FUCK!” Mark cried, desperate for release. His balls were turning into burning coals in his scrotum, scorching him from the inside, and his cum felt like molten lead.

Carmilla laughed wickedly, took one of her thickest dildos, and rammed it into Mark’s mouth. The heavy rubber blocked his throat, gagging him, reducing his screams to muffles.

“Sorry, kid,” Carmella laughed as she stepped back, and shook her big tits at him mockingly. “We’re not here for your pleasure. We’re here for mine. Let me tell you what’s happening, not that it’ll matter, or that a dumb piece of shit like you will even understand. Briar probably told you that the Purple Haze Coven specialized in two kinds of magic: drug magic, and sex magic. Well I happen to be proficient at both, and I combine them like no other witch (except Briar) can. I use drugs to fuel my sex magic, and I use sex to make my drugs. The semen of a virile young man like yourself is particularly potent for my alchemy, and the more concentrated it is the better it is for me. I could start milking you right now like a faggot-cow or something, and make a lot of mediocre potions, but I’d rather do this right.”

Carmella stretched and leaned back against a couch, smiling up at Mark like a cat at a caged bird. She grabbed the nearest dildo and brought it to her lips so she could kiss it, lick it, and suck it like a popsicle, and once it was wet she pushed it against her engorged pussy.

“I’m going to torture you Mark. I’m going to tease you. I’m going to kiss you, lick you, suck you, fuck you a little, and let you watch as I beat my pussy up with every dildo in my collection. I’m going to do some really twisted and sick shit in front of you, Mark, but I’m not going to let you cum. I’m going to keep you on the verge of orgasm for as long as I can, probably until it kills you, and when your balls literally explode, that’s when I’ll collect my milky white gold. That cum will brew me up a potion worth a king’s ransom. You’re going to make me a very rich witch, you little bitch.”

Carmella laughed, and began to masterbate, pushing down her thong just enough to push the dildo into her hungry lips, but not enough for Mark to get a good look. The horny barbarian was drooling at the mouth as he strained for a better look, and as his dangerously erect cock started to turn blue, Carmella just laughed and fucked herself.


Mark had journeyed with several companions in his relatively short life, but none of them were more wild and unpredictable than his on-again-off-again girlfriend Briar Hecate, a witch. Part punk-rock, part heavy-metal, part psychedelic maniac, Briar was as likely to fuck Mark as she was to kick his ass on any given night, but the sex was so good that Mark suffered the occasional ass-whoopings.

When they had first met, Mark had just been exiled from his clan for impregnating the chief’s wife, deflowering his daughter, and sodomizing his son, but Mark was still naive and new to the world despite his brute strength, so having Briar as a guide meant a lot to him. For Mark, Briar was like a cool older sister, best friend, and sex-goddess all in one. For Briar though, Mark was little more than a playtoy with a big dick she could split the rent with. She cheated on him constantly, sometimes right in front of him, and with multiple partners. She left him one day without warning, so she could hook up with some random adventurer she had met at an orgy that Mark hadn’t been invited too. To add insult to injury, Briar sold most of Mark’s stuff for some quick cash.

Mark moved on with his life, became an expert monster-slayer, and more or less forgot about Briar as he plowed his way through entire villages of young girls and their horny mothers. Later though, Mark would run afoul of Queen Tamora, the Usurper of Cytheria, after she framed him for the murder of her husband and locked Mark away in her sex-dungeon as her personal slut. Mark escaped, but only by kidnapping Tamora’s youngest daughter, Princess Cadence, who became Mark’s hostage and fuck-pillow for the next several days. Tamora sent her soldiers after them, but once Cadence had gotten a taste of adventure and freedom (and huge cock) she didn’t want to go back, and Tamora was forced to take drastic measures.

Tamora hired the Purple Haze Coven, a dangerous guild of witches, to hunt down Mark and capture Cadence. The champion of the Purple Haze at this point was none other than Briar herself, who thought it would be fun to fuck over her former plaything, just for a laugh. To Briar’s surprise though, Mark had grown far more powerful than she could have ever expected, and he easily defeated, dominated, and fucked every Purple Haze witch that came after him, several of them losing their virginities to his massive cock.

Impressed (and possibly in love) Briar left the Purple Haze, hooked back up with Mark, and began a turbulently sexual friendship with Princess Cadence.

Mark was happy because he had two babes to travel with, Briar was happy because she wasn’t bored anymore, and even Cadence was happy because she got to continue her adventures away from home.

Tamora was not happy though . . . and neither were the Purple Haze Coven . . . especially Carmella.


Carmella was a demoness. For hours she kept teasing, pinching, and stroking Mark’s cock, all the while dancing in front of him in nothing but her thong and nipple-pasties. She’d alternate the music between genres, sometimes swaying her body to smooth sexual slow-jams, or twerking her big ass to some hot southern beat. She was a brilliant dancer; it was part of her magic, and to Mark’s drug-addled brain it sometimes looked as if there were eight of her, all gyrating around the room, kissing one another, laughing at him as they danced.

The adrenaline pumping in Mark’s veins kept him awake, but he was so delirious with arousal that his conscious mind would shut off for extended periods of time, and when Carmella realized that was happening she was not pleased.

“Pay attention, you peice of shit!” she snapped, and slammed her knee up into his balls.


The pain was enough to make Mark’s mind explode, but not enough to cum. The wax plugging his cock was keeping all his spunk nice and tight, and something about the drugs Carmella filled him with also seemed to prevent the natural process from occurring.

“Dumb lump of muscle,” Carmella said, slowly scraping her sharp nails down his bulging chest. “I’ll admit that there is something . . . *primal* about you. It is natural for beasts to admire such raw physical power, but I’m a sophisticate, you see. I prefer beauty, talent, grace, and the sublime ecstasy of the female form. Briar was . . . she was perfect in every way to me . . . and you fucked her like she was some cheap whore . . . and worse . . . you made her love it. Well . . . I’m going to make you love it now . . . love getting your ass kicked.”

Carmella knelt before Mark and took a hold of his massive pussy-pumper with both hands, cradling the steel-hard pole between her warm, soft breasts.

“Does she suck your cock, Mark?” Carmella asked with tears in her eyes. Her nails were digging into the flesh of his cock. “Does she suck your big ugly cock like this?”

Carmella jammed his whole helmet into her mouth, which was like trying to swallow a small apple, and she began to bob her head up and down on the thick shaft. Carmella was really giving it her all, literally gagging herself just to get about half-way. A choking “gluck, gluck, gluck” sound came from her over-stuffed mouth, and Mark’s cock began to punch the back of her throat. Thick globs of saliva oozed out of her mouth and down his shaft, dripping all the way down his aching ball-sack.

Mark felt like he was having a heart-attack, he needed to cum so badly, even though this was just a mediocre blowjob. It was pretty obvious how much of a lesbian Carmella was. She kept tonguing his helmet like she was looking for a clit, and her gag-reflex was causing her throat to clamp down on his shaft like a tight virgin pussy. Mark realized the crazy bitch was just doing it to find out how her ex-girlfriend Briar felt when she worshipped Mark’s mighty idol. Briar was a champion cocksucker; she was lightyears beyond this amatuer.

Still, there was something especially arousing about getting a blowjob from an amatuer, especifally from an amatuar who obviously hated it, but felt compelled to suck dick anyway. The look on a girl’s face when she tasted cock for the first time . . . that mixed expression of disgust and curiosity . . . the way their cheeks swelled up . . . the way they’d keep going deeper just to prove themselves . . . and finally the shock in their eyes when his salty nut erupted in their mouths, and they got there first taste of seed.

“GGGRRRR!!” Mark growled.

It was finally happening. He was cumming. He could feel his boiling spunk pushing up the wax blocking his urethra. He was going to explode right down Carmella’s throat. He was three seconds from drowning this bitch with nut.

“Mmph!” Carmella choked as she popped off of Mark’s dick. Her plump lips came off with a wet explosion. “Not so fast, you little shit!”

Carmilla squeezed the base of Mark’s cock with one hand, and pushed her other thumb down on the wax. She held him tight, trying to hold back his orgasm from boiling over, even if the pressure building up was getting close to snapping his dick in half. Mark was screaming into his dildo-gag and his muscles were threatening to burst, but in the end Carmilla was successful in delaying his orgasm even further, and all that escaped from the waxy blockage was a single viscous drop of pre-cum.

Carmille brought her plump lips to Mark’s helmet, and she sucked up the bit of pre-cum that had escaped.

“Mmm . . . not bad . . . but I still prefer the taste of pussy. Speaking of which . . .”

Carmilla wrapped her arms around Mark’s neck and pushed her tits against his chest. She raised her pussy up over his dick, and slowly began to grind. Her pussy was hot and wet, and as she slid her swollen lips over his rock-hard tip, little gushes of honey began to ooze down his shaft, slickening it up, tickling it, and tricking it into believing that it was about to get some release.

Carmilla cried out as she let herself down, and Mark’s third leg began to punch upwards into her cunt. Fucking Mark, even as slowly as she was, felt like getting fisted by a boxer, and Carmilla lost a bit of control as her legs began to shake, and her knees melted like wax. Her wet pussy slid down Mark’s full shaft, and her big ass slammed down on his balls.

“Holy shit! You’re fucking huge!” Carmilla cried as she began to bounce up and down, driving a twelve inches of cock in and out of wet, hot, gushing pussy. She was cumming right away, and as she did she squeezed Mark’s neck and bit his shoulder. Tears rolled down her cheeks as freely as juice did from her cunt, and she allowed herself to cum again and again as she fucked her big toy.

Poor Mark though, he thought he was cumming, but he wasn’t. Sensations like earthquakes shook his cock. He was trying to cum, his cock was trying to erupt, but he simply couldn’t.

“One more . . . one more . . . one more . . . FUCK!” Carmilla screeched, slamming her ass down one last time so hard she nearly broke Mark’s bounds, and she came so much that it looked like she was pissing on Mark’s dick. Juice ran down his balls and legs like waterfalls, and it almost five minutes before she was able to push herself off.

Carmilla slowly stood up and let Mark’s cock drag across her big ass as she turned around. She strutted to her wall of dildos, swaying her luxurious body, and when she got there she giggled like a girl in a toy-store shopping for a new doll. Finally she selected one of her larger, blacker, more uncomfortable looking dildos, and Mark could hear her snapping it into the latex holster of a strap-on.

“You almost popped, Mark,” Carmilla said, sliding the latex harness around her waist, and pulling a tight latex thong up between her buttocks. “You almost climaxed without my permission. Naughty, naughty little boy. I think you need to be punished . . . or rewarded, when you think about it. You fucke fucked my pussy, I should get to fuck yours.”

When Carmilla turned around Mark nearly fainted, and he could feel his tight anus puckering in dread. Jutting from her waist was a big, black, rubber dildo that curved upward and an awkward angle, and the head was smoothly hooked like a soft harpoon. The thing was almost a foot long, but it was the dildo’s thickness rather than its length that made Mark whimper.

“Like it? It’s a cast,” Carmilla said. “Of a female-gnoll’s pseudo-penis. Amazing monsters, gnolls. The female’s of the species are more aggressive, large, and sexually dominant than their male peers, and their clitorises actually grow to lengths and thicknesses much larger than any male cock. I especially like the little hook on the tip. It really locks the pseudo-penis in place. That way, it only withdraws when I want it to.”

As she strutted back over, Carmilla grabbed another bottle of lubricant, most of which she dosed onto her own body. The viscous liquid oozed over her breasts and stomach, and from there she let it drip onto the shaft of her big dildo. She worked the lube into her breasts, stomach, and dildo, making everything as slippery and shiny as wet metal.

“You haven’t gotten to see my nips yet, have you bitch?” Carmilla asked, her fingers sliding over her slippery tits. “Well I think you deserve a little treat before I ruin your ass.”

Carmilla bit her lip and smiled wickedly as she slowly peeled the black pasties off of her nipples, and when they finally popped off Mark began to salivate. Pink, perky, and as erect as little rose-buds, Carmilla’s nipples were just begging to get sucked. Like the sprinkles on top of two scoops of ice-cream, seeing them made Mark just want her that much more.

Carmilla chuckled to herself as she slid her oily body around Mark, letting her round breasts drag over his chest, obliques, and back. Her nipples were actually quite soft compared to what he was use to, but in his hyper-sensitive state they felt like hot claws cutting across his flesh. Her rubber cock dragged over Mark’s own cock, and slid over his rock-hard ass.

“Mmmph . . . Mmmph . . . Mmmph,” Mark mumbled, but the rubber gag stuffing his throat kept him from begging.

Carmilla wrapped her arms around Mark’s neck and bit his earlobe. He could feel her probing the tip of her cock against his anus. He’d been fucked up the ass before, and he usually like it, but only when he was calling the shots.

“Little pig, little pig, let me in,” Carmilla whispered into his ear, laughed, and then slammed her powerful hips upward.


Mark saw stars as the dildo slid all the way into his ass and slammed into his prostate like a battering-ram to a castle gate.

“Wow . . . such a tight little ass,” Carmilla laughed, grinding her breasts against Mark’s back. “I’m going to enjoy breaking you in, bitch.”

Carmilla had been an amatuar when it came to blowjobs, but she was a fucking master when it came to strap-ons. She started by gyrating her hips slowly, driving the dildo up at different angles, and judging by the way Mark reacted which were the most sensitive. She had one arm around his neck, nearly choking him, and another around his waist so she could jack his huge cock. She wrapped her legs around his beefy thighs, and held him tight.

“Do you like getting fucked, bitch? Do you like the way this feels?” Carmilla asked as she quickened her pace. Her hips began to slap against Mark’s ass, filling the room with a loud clapping, and each thrust of the dildo struck deep with a heavy thud.

The worse part was that Mark was enjoying it, he was enjoying it so much he was sure it would kill him. With the ass-fucking and the handjob working in tandem, Mark felt like his entire being was getting fucked.

“I wasn’t joking early, bitch,” Carmilla hissed in Mark’s ear. “I’m literally going to make your balls explode. I’ve done it before . . . but never with a pair quite as big as yours.”

Carmilla let go of Mark’s neck, crouched down, and continued to fuck his ass while giving him and handjob with one hand, while she smacked around his balls with the other.

The over-stimulation was too much for Mark. The world began to spin. His body felt like it was melting as if it were made of hot wax, and the dildo fucking his ass was a red-hot iron-poker. A sickening weight grew in his balls, and he knew that it meant they were minutes-maybe seconds away from popping.


Suddenly the door to Carmilla’s sex-dungeon exploded, sending big shards of wood sliding across the floor.

“Carmilla . . . what the fuck are you doing with my boy-toy!”

The young woman who walked into the sex-dungeon was tall, slender, and extremely fit. Her warm brown skin was toned with lithe muscles, especially in her abdominals, and although her butt wasn’t especially large, but it was solid. Her breasts weren’t much more than a handful, but there were perky, firm, and capped by remarkable stiff brown nipples. She was entirely naked except for her leather boots and wide-brimmed leather hat . . . a witch’s hat . . . both of which had a purplish hue. She tossed the hat aside, revealing her long black hair that was styled in a mohawk along her scalp, and fell into a long braid that almost touched the floor.

“Briar!” Carmilla gasped.

“Brrrr,” Mark mumbled.

“Carmilla . . . get that dildo out of my toy’s ass, or I swear I’m going to make you eat it!” Briar threatened.

“Briar, baby. I can explain,” Carmilla said in a pleading tone.

Briar wasn’t having it. She raised up her hand and a violent wave of magical energy bolted across the room. It mostly passed through Mark’s body like a warm breeze, but it struck Carmilla with the force of a hurricane. Carmilla was sent flying into the wall, but her dildo was so embedded in Mark that it wouldn’t come out, and instead Carmilla’s belt snapped.

“Briar . . . baby . . . please,” Carmilla groaned as she tried to stand up.

Briar waved her hand again, and Carmilla was sent flying through the air. Her body struck the wall of dildos, smashing apart the shelves, and she hit the ground hard amongst an avalanche of sex-toys.

“I broke up with you Carmilla,” Briar said, strutting over to Carmilla’s prone body, and she she got to it she slammed one of her high-heeled boots down on Carmilla’s breasts. “I got bored of the way your pussy tasted. Get over it.”

“You . . . you got back together with Mark after breaking up with him,” Carmilla said, looking up at Briar with tears in her eyes.

Briar shrugged. “That’s because he got interesting again. I don’t need to explain myself to some tired cow like you, but if your plan was to get fucked by me again, congratulations! You’re planned worked.”

Briar stepped back and waved her hands. Camilla’s body was lifted into the air, and her legs were pulled apart as if by invisible hands. Brair grabbed Carmilla’s ass and dove face first into the witch’s pussy, shoving her long tongue deep into Carmilla’s foulds, and grinding her lips against the woman’s engorged clit.

“Oh . . . Oh Briar . . . HOLY SHIT!” Carmilla squalled as her first orgasm hit her like a mule-kick to the brain. If Carmilla was all about denial, Briar was all about excess, and she held nothing back as she devoured Carmilla’s pussy. “Fuck . . . fuck . . . FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!”

Carmilla began to squirt so copiously that Briar had to stand back.

“Hahaha!” Briar laughed, letting Carmilla’s hot juices gush all over her face and breasts. “You always were a gusher, Carmilla. Just a big, wet, juicy whore.”

Briar waved her hand again and undid the spell. Carmilla wiggling, orgasmic body fell to the floor with a heavy thud. Carmilla moaned with pleasure from her post-orgasmic state, but also from the pain of dropping a sudden six feet onto her back.

“What do you say Mark? Ready to cum?” Briar asked. Without waiting for an answer, she twirled her finger, and all of the leather cords binding Mark’s arms and legs suddenly snapped.

Mark landed on his feet, but his legs were so shaky that he fell on his ass. The dildo in his ass was rammed up a little deeper, but he was too out of his mind to even notice. Mark did pull the dildo out of his mouth tough, and struggled to rise up. His body ached like he had just spent an eternity in the gym pushing heavy weights.

“Come on, stud. Right here. Mommy Briar baked a hot pie for you,” Briar laughed. She had rolled Carmilla onto her knees, pulled up her ass, and was spreading the witch’s cheeks wide open for Mark. Carmilla’s dripping wet pussy was pink, puffy, and just begging to be crushed.

Mark found the strength to stand, to run, and he rammed his cock so deep into Carmilla’s pussy that it punched the bottom of her stomach.

“FUCK!” Carmilla screamed, feeling her pussy being pried open to widths greater than her forearm.

Mark growled like a tiger as he grabbed Carmilla’s ass cheeks and began pounding her pussy with the force of a horny bull. Each thrust knocked her down into the floor, filling the room with a THUD, THUD, THUD. Briar encouraged Mark to fuck Carmilla even harder by biting his nipples, and reaching around to play with the dildo still in his ass.

All Carmilla could do was scream and whimper as a puddle of cum began to grow underneath her. Mark was literally fucking the juice out of her.

“Enough with her pussy,” Briar ordered. “Fuck the whore’s ass.”

Mark was too out of his mind to follow orders, to Briar had to kick him in his stomach to dislodge his cock, which she then aimed at Carmilla’s soft, vulnerable rear-pussy.

“Briar! Baby! No!” Carmilla whined.

“Shut the fuck up, sweetie. You’re so pathetic when you beg,” Briar said, rolling her eyes and sitting down on Carmilla’s back to keep her in place. “Fuck her Mark. Break her ass in half!”

Mark clenched his teeth as he drove his cock in. Carmilla was tight, so tight that it hurt to fuck her ass at first, but once Mark broke past the halfway point, he was able to slam the rest ball’s-deep with no resistance.

“AAAAAAGHH!!” Carmilla screamed as a painful orgasm shot up her spine and into her brain.

“I said SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Briar yelled, grabbing a small dildo and ramming it down Carmilla’s throat to gag her.

Mark fucked Carmilla’s ass like he was trying to kill her, his muscular hips beating down on her cheeks like a drum. The defeated witch wiggled and squirmed trying to get away, but as the orgasms started to pulverize her body all she could do was flop and spasm. Her pussy gushed onto the floor like she had a bucket of water inside her, and Mark’s thrusts sent her sliding across the cum-slickened floor. Mark fucked her so hard that she’d never walk the same again, and as orgasm after orgasm washed over her brain like a flood, Carmilla could feel her intelligence evaporating. She was literally becoming a stupid bimbo. Mark was breaking her.

“Mmmph . . . Mmmph . . . MMMPPH!” Carmilla gave one last muffled attempt of a scream, and as her pussy liquified into a hot mess, she lost consciousness and went limp.

Still Mark continued to fuck her, even though his balls were so blue they were purple at this point, and he was seconds away from popping them.

“Mark . . . damn . . . why haven’t you cum yet, stud?” Briar asked

Mark couldn’t answer. All he did was grunt and keep fucking Carmilla’s unconscious body.

Briar figured something was wrong, so she kicked Mark in his stomach so hard that his cock burst free from Carmilla’s anus, and he landed on his back. Briar mounted him in a 69 position, slamming her pussy down on his face, as she took his swollen purple cock in both hands.

“Wax? Did that mean bitch plug you up with wax, Marky?” Briar snickered to herself.

Mark was beginning to eat out Briar’s pussy, and he struggled to get on top, but Briar’s slender body was stronger than his at the moment, and she stayed in control. She slowly massaged his cock with both hands, and lowered her mouth over his purple helmet, sucking on it a little as she bit down on the top of the wax seal. Briar raised her head up, pulling the wax free as she did so. It took a while. Mark had a twelve-inch cock, and Briar had to pull out about eight-inches of wax to unplug it.

The last of it came free with a slimy “POP”!

“AAAAAGGH!!” Mark screamed, and his cock finally unleashed a gushing geyser of sticky white paste. His cock pumped like a spitting dragon, unloaded a warm blast of boy-batter upwards with such force that it would have hit the ceiling, had Briar’s face not been in the way.

Briar completely miscalculated just how badly Mark was plugged up, and when the first blast of cum hit her it nearly knocked her off. The second blast hit her right in the eyes, blinding her, and the third was enough to completely cake her face under a thick layer of semen. Briar leaned back and grabbed Mark’s legs in a desperate attempt to control him, but this just made his cock aim up higher, and his fourth and fifth ropes unleaded across her chest. Briar opened her mouth to say something and was rewarded with a mouthful of hot spunk.

Groping around blindly, Briar managed to grab Mark’s erupting volcano and aim it away from herself, pushing it in Carmilla’s direction. Mark’s spurting ejaculation flew all over the broken witch’s body, coating Carmilla’s hair, back, and ass underneath a heavy layer of sperm. By the time Mark’s last spurt of cum fly over her big ass, Carmilla already looked like a freshly frosted cinnamon-bun.

Briar was covered by just as much spunk though, and most of it was on her face. She swallowed as much as she could, but Mark’s cum was so thick she had to chew it, and she was full long before she’d even cleaned off her face. The rest she wiped off of her eyes just so she could see. Mark was flopping around on the floor like a dying fish, his cock still oozing semen and pulsating dangerously erect. Briar mounted him again, this time sucking down most of his cock into her mouth, and with both hands she gently milked him of every last drop he had, which turned out to be a substantial amount, and she had to spit it out onto his tighs because she was so full.

Little by little, Mark’s epileptic seizures began to calm, his heart stopped beating like a drum, and his cock finally began to deflate. Almost an hour went by, and even as Mark’s cock finally returned to its normal color and slowly softened, Briar was still teasing out a few stubborn drops of semen from him.

“Damn, boy. How much nut do you have left?” Briar asked mostly to herself. Mark had lost consciousness over an hour ago.

” . . . Briar,” Carmilla whimpered. She was just waking up. “I . . . I can barely feel my legs.”

“After the way Mark fucked your stupid ass, yeah, I bet you can’t feel your legs.”

Briar got up grabbed Carmilla by her cum-soaked hair and cruelly dragged the buxom witch across the floor, out the door, and into the woods. Carmilla’s curvaceous body was still soaked with cum and lubricant, so she slid across the ground like a slippery slug, even when her tits dragged.

The light of the sun was blinding for Carmilla, since she had spent the last two days locked in her dark sex-dungeon, which in truth was just a cottage on a hill. Carmillas’ dungeon was perched on a wooded hilltop overlooking a small village, just remote enough that no one would come knocking, but close enough to civilization for all the comforts. Briar hadn’t had any trouble finding the place. She and Carmilla had vacationed here back when they were lovers. Many of the sex-toys were her hand-me-downs.

“Briar! Ouch! What are you doing?” Carmilla whined, trying to wiggle free.

“You threatened one of my friends,” Briar said, dragging Carmilla over a jagged rock. “I can’t tolerate that.”

“But we use to be friends!” Carmilla whined. “We use to be lovers.”

Briar shrugged. “Things change.”

Briar dragged Carmilla over to a large ditch that was filled with mud. Exerting her full physical strength, Briar lifted Carmilla over her head, and then threw Carmilla face-first into the mud.


Carmilla splashed and flailed in the wet mud as she struggled not to drown. Her legs were still useless, so she had to crawl through the shallow parts of the ditch just to keep her head up. When she emerged she was so caked in mud and filth that Briar could barely recognize her, which she thought was funny.

“We broke up, Carmilla,” Briar said. “I didn’t just leave the Purple Haze Coven because Mark ‘seduced’ me, either. That muscle-bound dumbass couldn’t seduce a whore. He’s just a cute stud with a huge cock who everyone wants to get fucked by at least once. The truth is I just got bored with you silly lesbians. I’m done with you, cunt, but I’m not done with Mark yet. If you ever threaten my friends again . . . hell . . . If I even ever SEE you again, I’m not going to stop at breaking your ass. I will fuck you to death, you boring slut.”

Briar turned back to the cottage, giving Carmilla once last look at her perfect ass. “Crawl down to the village and sell your body for a place to sleep tonight. I’m keeping your house for the next couple days. Mark needs a place to rest.”

Briar left Carmilla in the mud, whimpering and growling with dejection. After a few minutes of feeling sorry for herself (and masterbaring to the fresh memory of Briar’s ass) Carmilla began to crawl down to the village for help, dragging her huge breasts through the mud and leaves like she was nothing but a slug.

Briar knew that Carmilla could find help in the village, but what she probably didn’t know was that there were three other Purple Haze witches staying at the inn, waiting for Carmilla to come down and party after she had killed Mark. Helena the Harpy, Licorice Whip, and another of Briar’s ex-girlfriends, the necromancer Savra. The plan was they’d all hit the town and have an orgy to celebrate Mark’s death, and the harvesting of his essence for their drugs. Well, that hadn’t gone according to plan, but her revenge would.

Carmilla would have revenge, and soon. The Purple Haze was going to fuck shit up tonight.

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Backseat Battle

by Rivals_Rapture

Every weekday, Brenda would come home from a long exhausting day at the office, to find her husband watering the yard. There was nothing wrong with him watering the yard mind you, as it was a task that needed to be done, but still, it angered the blonde. For every day, at that same time, the 19-year-old neighbor girl, Samantha, decided to sunbathe, in her front yard. An odd, seemingly intentional quirk if ever there was one. That little bitch would lay out there, in her chair – turning over or stretching to accentuate her assets whenever Brenda’s husband Mark would look in her direction. She knew exactly what she was doing, and Brenda, Mark’s wife, was on to her.

Now, hubby hadn’t done anything wrong – he hadn’t slept with her, or even talked to her, at least as far as Brenda knew. But it was only a matter of time, with that hot little thing out there, prancing around, trying to catch her husband’s eye. So, with that eventuality in mind, or more specifically stopping it, Brenda decided to act, intending to use her best weapon: her own body. For as hot as Samantha was, the wife of the man she was trying to lure was even hotter. Big breasts. Thin waist. Fit body. More than enough to take on that little hussy, she thought to herself as she changed into her selected attire, however little of that there was. Some hot little denim panties, and a thin silk robe was all she chose, knowing that she would need no more for the battle she intended to wage.

It was in that outfit that Mark’s wife drove home, and parked a few houses down from her own. There she waited, until her husband had finished watering and Samantha had finished her tanning. Their simultaneous cessation triggered the middle-aged blonde to start the car, and speed down the road, only slowing just before she began her tire-screeching turn into Samantha’s parent’s driveway. Having arrived at her intended destination, Brenda slid off her robe, and kicked open the driver’s door to her SUV, not feet away from Samantha, who unsurprisingly wore a look of shock on her face.

Brenda: “Get. In.” The MILF said sternly, as she made clear not only her intentions, but the contours of her body near naked body.

Samantha: “‘Bout time, grandma. I was starting to think you were just going to let me take him. And did you forget to dress today, or something? Ewe.” The young brunette said, as she walked around the car, and got in the passenger side, the effects of surprise having faded from her pretty little face.

Nothing was said as the two drove one residential street, then another, until finally they reached the top floor of the nearby parking garage, which luckily enough for they, happened to be empty at this time of day. Empty though it may have been, Brenda still drove to the absolute back of the lot, before stopping the car, putting it in park, and turning to face her rival.

Brenda: “You’re trying to seduce my husband.”

Samantha: “Uh, no… I AM seducing your husband. Trying is what you’re ‘trying’ to do, Ms. Old Body.”

Brenda: “Bitch! You WISH your body looked like mine.”

Samantha: “Yeah, maybe I will when I’m 80. Big maybe though.”

Brenda: “Sorry to break it to you, but when you’re 80, you’ll still have tiny little tits.”

Samantha: “Fuck you, my tits are perfect. More than enough to lure your husband into watching me tan every day.”

Brenda: “OoOOo, hit a nerve did I?”

Samantha: “Fucking ancient cunt, don’t make me hit you.”

Brenda: “Yeah, you’d use your fists, because you haven’t the slightest clue how to fight like a real woman.”

Samantha: “Ok, like, what does that even mean?”

Brenda: “It means you take off that skimpy fucking bathing suit top, we get in the back seat, and we fuck until one of us cums.”

Samantha: “And why would we do that? I want your husband, not his leftovers from 100 years ago. Which is me talking about you, BTW.”

Brenda: “Yeah, caught that. We do that, because if you make me cum, I’ll let you keep trying to seduce my husband, and I won’t interfere. And if I make you cum, you start tanning in your backyard, and you leave my husband alone.”

Samantha: “Uh, deal, because there is no way you’re making me cum. You’re disgusting.”

Without another word, the older blonde opened her driver’s side door. and got out, the brunette not long after followed suit. Then, after the young brunette had taken off her top, the two women opened the doors to the backseat on their respective sides of the car, and crawled in.

In the middle they met, and not a moment after getting in range for it, Samantha reared back, and after clearing her throat as best she could, spit right in Brenda face’s. The move caught the blonde entirely off-guard, causing her to close her eyes, just as the 19-year-old dove forward, and tackled her. Brenda still trying to clean phlegm from her eyes, did not resist as the brunette grabbed her leg, brought it vertical, and crossed their thighs into a scissor position. From that position the young seductress began to hump, rolling her hips back and forth, putting all of her gymnastics and cheerleading practice to good use.

Brenda, now on bottom and at her rival’s mercy, was mortified. She, being the one who demanded this engagement, and set the terms with such finality, now found herself being tribbed expertly, by a girl who clearly knew how to use her body to illicit maximum pleasure. And though she was taken by feelings of shame and frustration, she was also overcome by pleasure, as she could feel in every one of Samantha’s thrusts, their clits ramming together through their mis-matched panties. Brenda tried, desperately to rise up, using her elbows to prop, and reaching for the seat back, to complete the act, but every time she extended her arms, her rival would grab at her wrists and pry them loose, making sure she on bottom stayed there. Unable to escape her lesser position, the middle-aged blonde looked up to her rival’s eyes, to see if she was a least feeling the effects of their mutual thrusts. And though yes, it did seem as if each contact of clits was having some effect, it was certainly not close to what she was feeling. A torrent of pleasure, building within her, threatening with every roll of hips to become a sea which in waves might crash down upon her in a devastating orgasm.

Desperate for anything that might save her from a humiliating and possibly family destroying defeat, Brenda’s eyes scanned the cabin. There she found nothing, until finally it hit her. An idea which led her to reach up one more time, pretending to once again pull herself even with her rival, but this time much farther back on the leather seats. When she did, as expected, Samantha herself reached out, to thwart the move, leaning over farther than she had at any point in the battle so far. And just as her fingers began to grasp for the blonde’s wrist, Brenda altered course, and grabbed for the brunette’s head, quickly and violently pulling it down, between her own giant boobs. The move had worked exactly as she had meant it to, leaving Sam smothered between mountains of tit flesh, and distracted and terrified to such an extent that she could only barely keep up her tribbing. There in the backseat, they writhed together, the young temptress trying to escape her place buried between her enemy’s breasts before her oxygen ran out, and the loyal wife trying to angle her clit away from her rival’s, needing to avoid an orgasm which was only seconds away from taking hold.

As Samantha’s focus and consciousness began to wane, she began to forget about keeping her opponent on bottom, and how masterfully she needed to shift her weight and hips to keep her there. Brenda, sensing that failure on her rival’s part, began to shift their bodies left, and then left again, until she could turn they two in unison right, where after only the briefest of moment of them being on their side, the blonde fell with the brunette, into the intensely narrow footwell of the backseat, a feat made possible by their combined weight alone.

Once within those cramped confines, Brenda released her smother, and as Samantha began to gasp wildly for air, the blonde reached out, and moved only the seat nearest her right shoulder forward, so that she had room to maneuver and angle but her enemy did not (she having not even enough to room to sit up, even if she were allowed to do so). That circumstance in mind, Brenda grabbed her opponent’s leg, raised it into the air, and as was done to her, locked in a clit to clit scissor. From that position she began her own rolling of hips, one guided by more years of practice than her rival had even lived. Pushing hard, then rolling back soft. Bending Samantha’s clit left, and then right. Up and then down. Until her screams of forced pleasure filled not only the SUV, but the entirety of the top floor of the empty parking garage.

Brenda could see it – she could feel it. Samantha was going to cum. And so, as her screams reached a crescendo, her eyes rolled back into her head, and her toes began to curl, the blonde wife reached down, and grabbed the young seductress’ face. With it in her hands, she pulled it up to hers, forcefully opened her mouth, and spit, with even more phlegm than was sent at her when their struggle began. The maneuver caused the young woman to cough, and choke, the saliva and other going right down her throat, before she had a chance to prepare for it. As she so reacted, Brenda sat back and increased their rhythm, still drawing from the teen a vicious, Earth-shattering orgasm, whilst also reaching one herself, on the quivering, still-trapped body of her rival.

Now victorious, Brenda stood up (as only she had the room to do), and exited the vehicle, only to get back in through the driver’s door a few seconds later. Once inside, she sat down, pulled her silk robe back over her shoulders, and coo’d back:

Brenda: “Stay there, sweetie. Mommy will have you home in a minute.”

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Brother’s Keeper

by Rivals_Rapture

For 3 months, Guiying had been inundated with the calls, texts, and emails from her family and friends back home. Her younger brother Huang, a freshman in college, had been, the rumors went, sleeping with his teacher. Guiying had tried to message her brother, and even the teacher, but both had ignored her – not even responding with the simplest of denials. Each day that passed caused her more worry for her brother, and every time she heard more about the affair, her desire to stop it intensified.

Finally, on the first date on which she might take a vacation, she did, flying back home to confront the treacherous woman who was dishonoring not only her little innocent brother, but also her family name. She did not call first, or ring the doorbell when she arrived, instead the motivated and angry sister hopped the fence, and made a B-line right for the blonde on whom her rage had been focused for months, who she found sitting at a table in her backyard, enjoying a cup of tea.

Guiying shouted and yelled, then even before receiving a response, picked up the Ms. Sheppard’s tea, and threw it into her shock-struck face.

Ms. Sheppard: “You bitch! What was that for?” The blonde says in a tone of feigned confusion, all the while trying to wipe the tea off of her face.

Guiying: “You know what that was for, you’re sleeping with my little brother!”

Ms. Sheppard: “Yes, I am. What’s wrong with that, he’s 18.”

Guiying: “Well, first of all you’re not Chinese. Second, you’re old. And third, you’re not good enough for him!”

Ms. Sheppard: “And how would you know that? Hmm..? Have you tried me?

Guiying: “No, but I can tell that you’re a bitch, just by talking to you!And just because you have implants, doesn’t mean you’re hot!”

Ms. Sheppard: “And that’s all this is, is talk. Your brother is an adult, and so am I. You can’t force us to break up, you can’t get me fired, you can’t do anything about me fucking your little brother. Unless…”

Guiying: “Unless what, cunt? Rock-paper-scissors?”

Ms. Sheppard: “How about the last one. Prove to me that I’m not good enough for him.”

Guiying: “How?”

Ms. Sheppard: “We fuck. You make me cum, before I make you cum, and I’ll leave him alone. But, if I can make you cum first, you’re mine too. Brother and sister, my little pets. How fun will that be.”

Guiying: “No fucking way. Uh uh.. Nope. I’ll find some other way to stop this – to stop you.”

Ms. Sheppard: “Best of luck then! You can see yourself out, and I will be seeing your precious Huang tonight.”

Guiying was infuriated, enraged, as she walked away from the scene, and that petty blonde bitch. Why did she want him? He wasn’t rich, or attractive – not well-hung, or intelligent. He was just a young guy, and she could have anyone she wanted! As the young woman got in her car, and began to speed away, the questions and quarrels beset her, bouncing from one side of her thoughts to the other, each only staying for a moment, before it would be forgotten, and replaced with one even more reviling. But slowly, begrudgingly, a realization of truth began to set in, and in turn, Guiying began to slow the speed at which she left Ms. Sheppard’s house.

She was right. There was literally nothing that she could do. No strings to pull. No favors to call in. No laws to use as crowbar. The choice, as nauseating as it was, fell between taking on the busty blonde, sexually, or leaving Huang and their family’s honor in this evil white woman’s hands.

It was not moments later, that whilst Ms. Sheppard bathed herself, trying to cleanse the tea from her body and hair, she caught a glimpse of the woman who had denied her. This time, the young girl was disrobed and ready – focused and seductive. They did not move to each other immediately, each instead ran their hands up and down their bodies, lingering on places of import, trying to impress and intimidate the other – both enjoying a moment of foreplay, and the entailed dichotomy of youth and as rival: experience.

Once Guiying felt her own excitement growing to the point of concern, she moved from enticement, to inducement, and made her way into the shower, letting the full glory of her womanly prowess glow before her opponent. Despite the display, the blonde smirked confidently, as she moved closer, without an instant’s hesitation, or moment spent on pause. Guiyang closed her eyes, expecting that the teacher would bring their bodies together in a frontal embrace, only to find them springing open again, in dismay, as she felt the blonde’s breasts press against her unguarded back, and red-nailed fingers squeezing tightly on her already erect nipples. It was subconscious, her foolish and telling reaction to attempt escape, for the young woman was not confident. Not in her own skills, not in her body against this woman’s, not in her comfort level with such an engagement. Her opponent, however, was sure – certain of each and every question that their bodies might ask each other. And with that boldness at her disposal, and with only the slightest of movements, and barest of resistance, the teacher kept Guiying in place, trapped in her arms. It is from such a place that Ms. Sheppard kept one hard firmly affixed to the sister’s nipple, and with the other, reached down to her opponent’s wet and exposed pussy. The raven-haired woman gasped in fear, terrified not only that she was already losing so badly, but also about what was to come from her opponent’s lowering hand. With that hand, the teacher clamped down harshly, only to soften her grasp a near instant later, before driving her fingers into Guiying’s warm and already spasming lips.

The sister’s mind flooded with fear and regret, realizing herself to be wildly outmatched and outgunned – inexperienced and already losing control of her body, which began to, against wishes, hump at the instructor’s expertly used fingers. Ms. Sheppard, in full control, gently lowered herself and her opponent to the shower floor until both sat Indian-style, then in a single maneuver, wrapped her luscious legs around the body, and then in between the legs of her rival, only to pull both back firmly, to allow complete, and unfettered access to the sister’s vulnerable pussy.

Free to do as she pleased, and unconcerned about the possibility of the sister’s escape, Ms. Sheppard lowered her second hand, and began with both to simultaneously thrust her fingers in and out of quivering pussy lips, whilst also fully stimulating the clit of her opponent. The devastatingly effective attack seemed like it took hours to Guiying, but in reality, took all of 23 seconds, before she who came with such fire a tumult came again, this time exhausted and beaten – humiliated and humbled. The young woman then tried to stand, as tears ran down her shame-etched face, but found that she was not allowed – not free to move, still secured tightly in the teacher’s embrace.

Ms. Sheppard: “Shhh, stay with mommy.” The teacher whispered, as she without warning, launched into another bout of impassioned fingering, and touch-perfect clit-rubbing, causing Guiying to begin to buck and struggle, the feeling of pleasure far too overwhelming to tolerate, and yet..it continued unabated. The sister screamed, not for help, but for mercy – not in words, but in shrill, panicked cries. Ms. Sheppard did not relent however – finding no mercy in her heart for she who had been so insulting when she arrived earlier in the day. And so she forced to her cum, over and over again, until finally the screams stopped, and Guiying collapsed from exhaustion, falling back further into her new master’s arms, until it was only the latter that kept her upright. When Guiying finally felt her body’s release, and the warm shower floor taking all of her, she began to sob uncontrollably.

Tears of abject regret she shed, until they were interrupted, and replaced with those of pain, elicited by her limp body being drug up from the wet floor, and after a short, forced weak-kneed walk, tossed unceremoniously onto Ms. Sheppard’s bed.

Ms. Sheppard: “This is where this was supposed to end, SLAVE, and so this is where it will end.”

Ms. Sheppard: “NOooOo, please…” She muttered weakly, as her blonde tormentor climbed atop the bed, and with rough, violent motions, locked each of them into a tight, clit-on-clit scissor.

Ms. Sheppard then began to shout as she thrust her hips, and lips, into Guiying’s.

Ms. Sheppard: “Fight back! Fuck me, slave! FUCK ME!” The commands come with slaps, each of which land on every part of the sister’s body that can be reached. They hurt from the first, and grew with intensity from there, the pain they inflicted forced Guiying to try and take her shaking hands from trying and hide her endless torrent of tears, and instead to try and block those places on her body she felt were most exposed. Despite her pitiful state, Ms. Sheppard continued to strike, and thrust, until finally, pathetically, the dark-haired girl managed to muster a few, pain and fatigue-weakened thrusts of her own, the last of which causes her to once again orgasm at the touch of her master.

The teacher, then satisfied by the showing, meager as it may have been, continued to hump, until finally she and once again her opponent came, for the first time in unison. From that release, the blonde made not a sound, instead focusing each remaining motion and thought on pumping every last drop of cum from her now thoroughly destroyed opponent.

All went dark for Guiying, as she passed into a ravaged unconsciousness, until finally her eyes opened, and she found the smiling face, and drying body of Ms. Sheppard, who sat upon her in a straddle, her own unconquered pussy lips sealed around the still-erect nipple of her new slave.

Ms. Sheppard: “Wake up, slave, we must prepare for your brother.” The sentence perfectly encapsulates the nightmare world in which a sister, who set out to protect her family’s honor and little brother, now finds herself in.

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Dutch Dominance Denied

by Rivals_Rapture

Nervously, Marty the manager moved and straightened, wanting to make sure that the small Dutch Bros Coffee shop was in tip top shape for tonight’s more than abnormal circumstances. He, as he felt necessary, took his last few moments to prepare the store – his last opportunity to provide a clear runway, to his two new hires, who that night would be asked to run the store alone.

Marty: “Now look, girls, this wasn’t how I wanted to train you two. I mean, I hired you both for the night shift, but normally there would be someone here to train you, and teach you the ropes. Well, that guy is sick, and so is the guy who was supposed to be on call. I’d stay, but I’m leaving town for a meeting with the franchisee tonight, and he wouldn’t let me get out of the appointment. So, here’s the deal. It should be a very slow night. Maybe 1-2 customers from now until mourning. So, I can’t imagine it being too bad. Just clean. And try and learn the register app on your phone. If either of you have any problems, just call me, ok? My number is written on the board over there. Any questions?”

Amelia (blonde): “Nope, I think we got it.”

Eris (brunette): “You’re sure there is nobody you can call in?”

Marty: “Yeah, I’m sure. But it’s only 8 hours. Travis will be here at around 7. But anyway, I have to hit the road. Call me!” With that, and no more, Marty left, leaving his two newest hires alone to work their first shift.

Amelia: “You’re sure there isn’t anybody?” The blonde imitated in the most nasally mocking voice she could muster. “That’s right, bitch, you’re stuck here all alone with me.” In response to the blonde’s cruel words and tone, the brunette merely averted her eyes, and said nothing, instead trying to at least appear like she was focusing on work. “I’m talking to you, Eris. You don’t get to just ignore me. Don’t make me hurt you like I did in the locker room.”

Eris: “Look, Amelia … let’s just work… I said I was … sorry for going after Travis… We settled this.” Every word spoken by the brunette came out broken, and shaken, driven by a palpable fear of the blonde, one instilled in their last violent encounter.

Amelia: “Yeah, we DID settle THIS. And what we settled on, is that I kicked your ass. Which I’m pretty sure means you’re my bitch. And now that we’ve graduated, and since I can’t push you around at school anymore, I’ll do it here.”

Eris: “Please, Amelia. I need this job so bad. And … and … I just…” The brunette’s words began to cut out, as she started to choke back tears, so distraught she was about having to work here, with a women who so brutalized her.

Amelia: “You just what? Huh? Speak!” The command was issued, as the blonde shoved Eris into the closed drive thru window of the small coffee shop.

Eris: “I don’t want to … fight you anymore…” Her words came out soft and pleading, as she tried her best not to cry, still looking anywhere else but in the eyes of her tormentor.

Amelia: “I wouldn’t want to fight me either, if I were a weak bitch like you. But you know what!?” The question was a rhetorical one, asked just as the blonde pushed herself forward, pressing her body into the pathetic brunette’s. Then, having closed the distance, Amelia reached up, and grabbed Eris’ tear-stained face, forcing her to finally make eye contact.

Eris: “Please, Amelia…” She begs, knowing not what else to do, trying not to focus on the feeling of her tits rubbing up against Amelia’s.

Amelia: “Please what? Hmm…?” The blonde asked, whilst still holding firm to her grasp of the brunette’s face.

Eris: “Don’t hurt me…”

The words of plea caused the blonde to laugh in a overtly sexual way, just as she leaned in, and pressed her tits even further into the brunette’s, rubbing herself against her terrified coworker. Then in answer, Amelia brought her lips within only a eyelash’s width from Eris’ and whispered:

Amelia: “Fuck you…” Exactly at the same moment that the confident, and malicious rejection escaped the pretty blonde’s lips, a heavy metal ice bucket slammed into the back of her head. The blow was vicious, and violent, knocking her not just to the ground, but unconscious. Darkness then took her, until slowly, her eyes began to blink open once more, only to set themselves on Eris, who stood above her, with a wicked grin on her face.

Eris: “Fuck me? No, bitch. I’m gonna fuck you.” The words of challenge sent the floored blonde into a rage, but as she went to move and revenge, she found her hands tied firmly behind her back, and mind fogged with the obvious symptoms of a concussion.

Amelia: “You BITCH! LET ME GO!” The former tormentor screamed as she squirmed on the hard coffee house floor, trying desperately to free herself. But as she struggled, she watched Eris with a cold glare, a look which softened into panic, as she noticed the brunette slowly pull her panties down from under her skirt, and then off.

Eris: “I will. But not yet. First, I need to teach you a lesson for being so mean.” With each word, the brunette took a step closer, until finally she stood, legs planted firmly on either side of her enemy’s head.

Amelia: “What!? No! No, no, no, noooo…” Her repeated words found themselves cut off, as Eris lowered herself into a straddle, placing her pussy lips over those on the blonde which were speaking. The blonde’s eyes, which remained visible, darted this way and that, as she dealt with not only the humiliation of the girl she considered to be her bitch smothering her, but also the fact that she can only barely able of breathing. That ‘barely’ coming from her nose, which remained free from the confines of flesh – a reality which Eris quickly ended, as she reached down, and pulled her clitoral hood over the nose of her former tormentor.

Eris: “See, this is what I meant. I knew we could find a way to make up and get along.” As the brunette commented, she lowered herself into a straddle, making sure that the blonde’s mouth was fully engulfed in her in most intimate of places, and that her rival’s nose was pressed snugly against the clit before it. “Now, just because you were such a bad girl – such a naughty little bitch, I’m going to smother you. When you want air, just use your tongue.” The explanation and instructions were delivered as Eris looked down into her foes’ glaring and angry eyes, and as muffled threats and refusals were made and heard emanating from somewhere underneath Eris’ tightly sealed womanhood. “Ohhh, girl, keep talking. It feels sooo gooood. Ughhh” As the pleasure began, the brunette began to roll her hips, and hump, not moving enough to allow for air, but just enough to increase her own enjoyment. “Come on! Tell me what you’re going to do to me when you get free!” Eris shouted as she grabbed for the blonde’s hair and pulled harshly. “TELL ME!” She yanked again, pulling upward, just as she ground her clit down on the blonde’s nose.

Whilst Eris rode, Amelia began to understand that by trying to verbally respond to the brunette, she was accomplishing only two things. One, pleasing through vibrations her torturer. And two, using up her last remaining breaths. Given that realization, the blonde chose to stop talking, and instead to try and decide if she would be willing to trade further humiliation for breath. At first she refused, swearing to herself that she would never lick the bitch who now sat upon her face. But as every second passed, and she began to succumb to suffocation, she realized that she had no other option. No other chance at continuing to breathe than to apply her tongue to the clit of her rival. And so, out of sheer desperation, she did, softly and begrudgingly at first, but then fully and passionately, so that she knew that her submission had been felt, and that air would soon be allowed to her once again.

Eris: “Good girl!” The brunette said mockingly, as she lifted herself up just enough for the brunette to breathe again. “Now keep going, or I’ll smother you again.” So good is was to breathe again, that Amelia did not stop, or even question. Having come to accept her current role. “Oh god. Keep going, bitch! Be my good little girl” With each stroke of the blonde’s tongue, Eris began to lose focus on her surroundings, so much so that she actually closed her eyes, intent on just enjoying the feeling of the woman who destroyed her in their catfight, now using her tongue as a slave.

At first, her lack of sight mattered not, as she continued to ride her rival’s face, coming closer and closer to a fiery, and explosive orgasm. But, just as the mountain top came into view, and she felt the first tingles of a oncoming orgasm, a voice called out.

Travis: “Hello? Anybody in there?” It was the voice of Travis, the boy over which these two first fought over in the locker room of the high school. The sound was recognized by both girls, a fact revealed to Eris by the eyes of Amelia, which grew wide, and excited, in the hopes that he might free her from the torment in which she languished. That hope, was to the brunette a fear, one that she sought to avoid. In that endeavor, she reached down, and scooted back, placing her hands tightly over the blonde’s makeup-smeared mouth. Then, as she stood up further, she replaced her hands, with her foot, one which was now shoeless, so that she could keep her rival from crying for help. Without the use of her hands, those being tied behind her back, Amelia struggled, trying to escape the sealing-flesh of her enemy’s foot. As she so writhed, Eris stood all the way up, right in the view of Travis.

Travis: “Uh, hey?”

Eris: “Hey, sorry! I was cleaning the floor. Amelia has been spilling drinks all night. What’s up?” The jab caused the blonde to begin her struggling anew, desperately trying to free her mouth, and thereby her voice.

Travis: “Uh, not much. Is Amelia here?”

Eris: “No, she actually left with some guy. Not sure what his name was. Looked hot though.” The former football player’s eyes widened, and shoulders sank, as the words sank in.

Travis: “Oh. Did … uh … she say when she’d be back? I keep texting her and she isn’t responding.”

Eris: “She said not to wait for her, so I’d guess she won’t be back.”

Travis: “Weird. Well, if she comes back, can you tell her I stopped by?”

Eris: “For sure.” The comment came out short and sweet, as the brunette switched her focus to trying to keep her foot on the blonde’s mouth.

Travis: “Thanks… Oh and hey, I’m really sorry for all the drama I caused between you two. I didn’t mean…”

Eris: “Her and I are figuring it out. Don’t worry.”

Travis: “Great.” He nodded, happy to know that he hadn’t caused a permanent rift between two girls he cared about. “Anyway, I’m off to look for her. See ya at 7!” His ‘ya’ was only heard in the distance, as he drove off from the drive thru window.

Eris: “Would you stop! I’m not done with you yet!” Just as Eris turned her attention back to her bound and foot-gagged rival, the ropes tied around Amelia’s wrists frayed and broke from all the struggle, allowing her to once again use her hands. Hands she did so use, grabbing at the now lowering Eris, who was once again trying to straddle the blonde’s face. The grab turned into a push, and the push into a slam, as the brunette’s head landed violently against the stainless steel cooler beneath the coffee bar. The effects of the blow were no less painful than the one Amelia suffered, but somehow, Eris remained conscious, though crumpled on the floor.

As the brunette recovered, so did the blonde, who tried to stand to take advantage of her enemy’s state, but found herself immediately beset by dizziness, confusion, and a nauseating lack of balance. Again, and again she went to steady herself, but found that no amount of closing of eyes, or standing without falling could alleviate her state of imbalance. Eris, who herself tried to stand, found her circumstances no less dire, as a concussion had now affected her as well. And so there, in that tiny coffee shop, with both girls wobbling, and confused, they set their eyes on each other, visual focus coming in and out.

Eris: “Bitch!”

Amelia: “Cunt! Why the fuck did you tell my boyfriend that!”

Despite the question, and their words, Eris knew that no amount of talking would end this standoff, and that the blonde would not allow peace, after such a violent and sexually charged punishment. In that knowing, she decided to attack, despite her previous loss, diving wildy and off-balance, tackling the blonde who stood off-kilter and too slowed by her state to defend herself. The two women’s intertwined bodies crashed into the rack of coffee, and ingredients behind them, knocking it over, and landing each of them on top of it. An armada of plastic bottles filled with syrups and liquids, and gallons of on-hand ready-to-use milk fell and broke open, on the floor. As such madness ensued, the two girls wrapped their fingers in each others hair and rolled, each jockeying for position – each trying to come out on top of their rival. Finally, they rolled themselves off of the painful metal rack, down to the wet floor below. There, as each found themselves covered in liquids, of various consistencies and scents, they continued their struggle. Finding no advantage in their hair pulling, the two released their holds on each other locks, and instead moved to tearing, and ripping at each other’s now soaking clothing. First blouses, then skirts, then panties and bras were torn off, until finally in the muck and mayhem, they clung to each other in the nude.

Their struggle continued that way, rolling from one side of the open and wet floor to the other, with each pressing their bodies together with all the force they could muster. As they tumbled, they each used their hands to roam around their enemy’s person, striking and pinching at any soft target they could find. Eventually, their battle took them to the very corner of the tiny coffee shop, pinned together, and unable to move or roll any further. There they sat up, interlaced fingers on both hands, and placed their left leg under right, and right under left, their bodies literally stuck together from the top of their foreheads to just underneath their stomachs, bound by whatever chemistry of liquids had formed there on that floor. To get a better angle, or perhaps to re-engage on better terms, they both tried to pull their bodies apart, but found themselves unable – even when both tried to do so through the pain of it.

Amelia: “You’re such a fucking bitch!” As Amelia screamed, she shoved her body forward in frustration, in the process, though without intention, slamming her womanhood into that of her enemy.

Eris: “You’re the bitch! I just wanted to work here in FUCKING PEACE!” Eris, no less frustrated by their state of stuck-ish-ness, likewise shoved herself forward, slamming her own womanhood into the blonde’s.

In that way, and in that state, they stayed, sitting forehead glued against forehead, nose stuck to nose, glaring at one another, slamming their only free weapons, their pubic mounds together. At first they did so merely to continue their battle of body against body, but slowly, subconsciously, they began to do so for another reason. Lust. Passion. And the desire reassert their lost dominance. As the pleasure began to take hold of both of them, their lips, which were as of yet used only to insult, began to hover closer and closer, each tasting the hot breath of their enemy in their own mouth. The threat of a kiss between the two rivals grew, and grew, with each meeting of clit – each girl trying desperately to resist it, even as their tongues called out to each other.

When finally, they felt they were about to lose control, and give in, they each began to chant quietly to themselves.

Amelia: “Bitch, bitch, bitch”

Eris: “Cunt, cunt, cunt.”

The repetitious whisper, meant to distract them from desire, only served to push their quivering lips closer, and then closer still, until finally their insults sealed their lips together in a glorious, passionate kiss. And though their tongues danced together, they continued their now slowed and sensual pelvic thrusts, each trying now not to wound, but instead to drive their enemy into orgasmic oblivion. Their battle was close, so very very close, neither ahead or behind – each finding the perfect angle from which to attack their rival’s clit. That closeness – that equality, they hated, beyond words or measure, and yet, their frustration at the fact only served to push them deeper into their lust for the other, and nearer to orgasm.

Finally, their pleasure became too great to continue their tangling of tongues, and so each girl tried to pull away from their kiss, so that they could scream out, but found that like the rest of their bodies, their lips were now fully stuck together with the fluids in which they rolled. And though that thought troubled them, and caused their eyes to grow wide, they could do not but scream into each other’s mouths as their tribbing finally brought them both to orgasm. Now, it might have appeared to an outsider that they did so together, without even a blink between their cumings, but they both knew, that it was Amelia who came first, it being her quivering release that pushed Eris over the edge.

Moments passed in silence, as the two baristas tried to recover and regain composure, each only able to breathe through their noses, their mouths still being sealed together. Eris had won, and forced her former tormentor to cum against her will. Amelia had lost to a girl she had planned on torturing from this their first day of work until finally she was driven to quit. And though there was plenty from that to digest for both of them, they each realized, now having purged their demons upon one another’s bodies, that there was something far more important to worry about than who would play the dominant role when next they met. For together they sat, pussy actively and actually fusing to pussy, in a sea of destruction – on battlefield no less messy than those of any world war. They could clean it, if they were separated, but how could they possibly do that? Both concussed. Both unable to peel even an inch of skin away from the other’s body. Worried and afraid they looked to one another, unsure how to escape the humiliation of being found like this by the morning crew, or the anger of their boss for destroying his store. How!? Their eyes asked of one another.

Travis: “Are you two done? Because we have so much work to do.” Their savior called. “That was hot by the way. Can I join in next time?”

Posted on

War on the 85th Floor

by Rivals_Rapture

Chapter 1:

Cramped between bed and brick, atop dirty clothes and only god knows, stood a short, young and shapely brunette woman. Her name was Jennifer, and she was in quite a bit of hurry, dashing this way and that — taking not her time, nor sipping slowly at her steam-topped tea. No, instead she was applying her makeup with one hand, all the while trying to stuff those items she might need for the day into her purse. She had to be prepared — had to be ready, for it was a big day. A day Jennifer had been planning for, and working towards, for the last 379 days, as far as she was able to count it. Her journey began as few do, with the reading of an interview posted on a popular men’s blog, one with a reputation for less than subtle content.

The subject was not just one man, but two: Aston and Bennett Bowman. They held the distinction, and blessing of being a pair of incredibly handsome twin brothers, who just so happened to also be the co-CEO’s of Bowman international, a quickly growing, and world renowned technology firm. Their company began, as most computer startups do, in Silicon Valley. They had grown, through the application of sustainable ambition and millennial savvy, to heights most companies never reach, and did so faster than any firm had ever done before. The key however, to the interview, was that their company’s rise was in their minds just beginning, and in fact, was about to embark on the building of a new headquarters in downtown New York. That plan, as the article read, was not undertaken because it was a business necessity, or because it was what the bottomline dictated, but instead, because it was a challenge. A new mountain to climb. A new sea to master. And though talk of brilliant business maneuvers and roars of unchecked bravado laced almost every question, and answer, Jennifer fixated on just the smallest of tidbits, set adrift somewhere near the end of the article.

Interviewer: “And … uh … you two are good looking guys. You’ve got the world at your fingertips, and happen to be single. What can the ladies of New York expect? What are your tastes. Who will be your prey, when you arrive in the city that never sleeps?”

Austin: “Well I have to say, as different as Bennett and I are, we have basically the exact same taste in women.”

Bennett: “You could say it has gotten us both into more than a few fights.”

Austin: “A couple.”

Bennett: “Black eyes… No, i’m kidding. Actually maybe I’m not, didn’t you…?”

Austin: “Let’s just answer his question, B. We like short, thick, brunettes.”

Interviewer: “How thick? Big breasts? Big butts?”

Bennett: “Thick thighs, big butt, huge breasts, and a tight tummy. Ariel Winter is a good example. Her and I broke up, but she was perfect.”

Austin: “Yeah, she was.”

Bennett: “See, that’s where the black eyes came in.”

Like manna from heaven, the description came down to Jennifer, who had for years and years held the most obsessive of crushes on Austin. He had, or more accurately, they had, described HER. They wanted HER. She was their dream girl. It was enough to have made her squeak and squeal, and in fact she did both upon reading those glorious words set to screen.

As her glee settled into sanity, and hope turned to hunger, the young woman decided that she had to meet them, or more specifically HIM — had to put herself in Austin’s life, and earn his heart and hand. Not because he was rich, but because she felt, honestly, that she loved him. They say a picture is worth a thousand words, and Jennifer had spent hours, weeks to be truthful, googling pictures of her muse, and then Bing-ing the same, just in case there was a difference in what came back. She would watch YouTube videos, and attend business lectures he gave, at the latter hoping for a chance encounter or a Cinderella reenactment, though neither ever came.

All of that seemed like nonsense now, as a plan, a real plan took shape in her mind. One that she enacted without delay, hitting the gym religiously, not to lose weight, but to forge her body into something Austin could not resist. “Ariel Winter who?” She would make him say. And whilst she worked out, she worked up, doing her best to improve her resume, so that we’re she to apply to the new building being built, she’d have a better chance of being hired.

Finally, the day had arrived, and Jennifer, now dressed to kill, and built to beguile, walked out her door and into the crisp New York air, ready to bag herself the man of her dreams.

Her optimism, however, quickly faded, as the elevator door opened at the 85th floor, and revealed just how steep her competition would be. Women — seas of women, each dressed to impress, and bearing enough cleavage to draw even the Pope’s eye, sat, stood, and strolled, waiting for their turn to meet with Austin and Bennett. Despite her rapidly declining confidence, Jennifer checked in, found he last available seat, and began waiting. Minutes, hours, days it felt like passed, and still she had not been called. Then suddenly, when she had almost given up hope, the brothers, each wearing the most expensive of suits, and most earned of smirks, walked out of their offices and surveyed the remaining crowd. They both seemed to catch on something that interested them, one on either side of the room. They whispered and pointed towards Jennifer’s seat, then across the floor to another girl, who Jenn could not see. Jenn felt it was her time — time for her to finally get her chance! She was certain they were about to call her name, and even stood to make the required traversal as quick as possible! But, just as a smile took to her beautiful plump lips: disaster.

Austin: “We have found our personal assistants, ladies. Thank you all so much for coming, but there won’t be anymore interviews.”

Bennett: “Yeah, we really appreciate all of your interest. Feel free to apply for the other jobs that we will be announcing in the near future. We need a good team here, and really have to fill all these floors with people, so … don’t get discouraged.”

The words, though calm and kind, struck a cold nausea into Jennifer’s stomach — a feeling which twisted and turned as one girl after another passed by her. They left, one by one — in groups — each commenting on how upset they were that they didn’t get a chance to interview. They were like ghosts to the brunette, who remained seated, lost on the verge of tears. Finally she mustered the strength to stand, but made it only to the on-floor bathroom, where she decided to hide herself in a stall and cry. Her sobbing continued, and hardened, robbing her of breath and balance, forcing her to sit, to avoid falling. How could she not have even gotten a chance? This was supposed to be! She thought to herself. But even as they swirled and swelled, the bitter questions she couldn’t answer and agony she couldn’t quell were interrupted, when Jenn heard the sound of another person crying in the stall next to her — another woman.

Jennifer wanted to stifle her own sobs, as to not bother, something she imagined the other weeping woman would worry about as well, but neither could. And so locked together in sadness, but in separate stalls, on opposite sides of a knuckle-thin marble wall, they cried, each taking some comfort in knowing that they were not alone in their pain.

After about 40 minutes, both Jennifer and the mystery woman had gathered themselves enough to leave their stalls. As they each exited their stall, their gazes locked on to one another in the wall mirror in front of them, each allowing themselves to study the other’s tear-glistened eyes, each softened by empathy, and silhouetted by wild smears of black eye shadow. And though there was something felt and conveyed in the moment, whatever it was found itself brought to an abrupt end, as both women found themselves once again overcome by sadness and embarrassment, which forced each of them to look away from the other. In that silence, they stood for only a moment, as they adjusted their clothing, and did what they could to wipe off running and ran mascara.

Then, having collected themselves as best they could, the two women began their walk of shame, side by side, heading towards the exit of the bathroom, still not having spoken a single word. Whilst on that trail of tears, neither could help but notice that the other looked nearly identical to themselves, in terms of hair color and length, breast size and build, and even in terms of dress, both having wore the tightest blue dress they could find, matched with a near criminally short skirt.

Despite their similarities, or perhaps because of it, they each decided to go their separate ways, intentionally taking different elevators, to avoid any discussion of what just happened.

Some hours passed, and Jennifer, intent on drinking away her disappointment, found herself at her favorite local watering hole, the “169 Bar” on East 169th Street. Before her sat 4 empty shot glasses, and two more ready to be so emptied. Her head hung, not just from the alcohol, or her exhausting bout of crying earlier, but from shame. Shame which kept her eyes laser focused on her phone, the apps she tried to distract herself with, and the next shot she planned on slamming.

Amber: “I’ll take…*hic*…another one!”

A drunken voice called, from a woman who had just taken the stool next to Jennifer. It was a miracle she had even caught the voice, given how loud the bar was, and how little she cared about any and all of it, and yet, there was something about it. Something … she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Intent on finding out what that something was, the blitzed brunette turned to see why the voice sounded so familiar, and found, to her heart-stopping horror and dismay, that she had, in the entire city of fucking New York, found a way to sit next to the woman with whom she spent an hour sobbing earlier in the day. “FML” She murmured under her liquor-scented breath.

Despite the brevity of Jennifer’s glance, and the speed at which she tried to look away, she and the mystery woman’s eyes once again locked. It lasted only a blink, as each looked away with almost equal amounts of fear and desperation coursing through their bodies, but still they both knew. And with that knowing, and as if to hide from a moving spotlight or a pathing guard, each sat motionless, not but inches apart, too drunk to leave, but too terrified of the other to stay. Awkward moments passed, one by one, then ten by ten, until finally neither could keep silent anymore. Each wanting to at least say something, so they could breathe again, and possibly even keep drinking, turned to the other, and opened their mouth to speak. Their words however, were interrupted by simultaneous calls to each of the girl’s cell phones. Rather than continuing their course, and breaking their silence, they reached into their pockets, and raised their phones to their ears.

Jennifer: “Hello?

Amber: “Hi! Yes, this is Amber, who’s this?”

Jennifer: “You’re kidding me.”

Amber: “Really?”

Jennifer: “But I didn’t even interview?”

Amber: “But how did…?”

Jennifer: “Of course I’ll take it, Mr. Bowman. Thank you so so much! Uh, right, Bennet. Got it.”

Amber: “For sure … I mean: yes, Mr. Bowman. This means so much to me, you have no idea. Call you, Austin? Ok, will do.”

Simultaneously they both hung up, and let the conversations, which each heard, wash over them. They had both been given a job, as personal assistants to the Bowman brothers, but Jennifer had been assigned the brother in which she had no interest. The thought was both wonderful, and terrible — divine and damning. At least it was something though. A foot in the door. A way into Austin’s life, Jennifer thought, as she took a deep satisfied breath, before releasing it in a butterfly stomach sigh.

After that somewhat belated acceptance, Jennifer found herself more than interested in her new competition, and so she snuck a few quick looks and found that Amber’s face contorted and then eased with equal tumult and hopeful resignation. From that, Jennifer derived, and rightfully so, that Amber had a crush on Bennett, and had not gotten the brother that she wanted either.

Regardless of their seemingly equal reservations about the assignment, there was something to celebrate, they were each one step closer to both of their dreams. Neither was the assistant to the man they wanted, but they would be in his life, and would be, finally, in striking distance of him. The two women sat thinking for a moment, before they each proclaimed in awkwardly loud voices:

Amber: “Check!”

Jennifer: “Can I get my tab?”

Each of them found sleep easy that night, snuggled in their own beds, ready and hopeful for what the new day, and their new jobs would bring.


Chapter 2:

The moon which lit Amber and Jennifer’s separate Uber rides home, quickly gave way to the light of the rising sun. Neither girl had processed or digested what had happened, or how it happened. And yet, despite the novel feeling of being completely blindsided by a life altering event, each woman was on time, and fully adorned with hours worth of makeup, and as tight and skimpy a dress as they could possibly have found. Given the fact that neither were interviewed, and that each were chosen after being seen by the brothers, that they had been hired for their looks alone, and their resemblance to a woman, and a body type that both Austin and Bennett sought not only exclusively, but feverishly. It is true that both had submitted resumes, with loudly-vouching letters of recommendation, but neither had the work history, educational background, or scholastic connections to earn such a prestigious job as this — not at the company, and certainly not in New York. Despite the implications of such hiring practices, and the possible damage each might be doing to their gender as a whole, they moved forward unfazed and undaunted.

That moving quickly brought them together once again, as each stood on opposite sides of the 85th floor’s partially split lobby, iPad in one hand, and Apple Pencil in the other, each listening, and furiously scribbling. They were both more than eager to please, wanting desperately to not only succeed in their new job, but also do so to such an extent, that they would draw the eye of the other’s brother.

Bennett: “Got all that? I know I speak quickly, but you’ll get used to it. It’s the only pace that allows us to get anything done in this business.”

Jennifer: “Got it, sir!”

Bennett: “Don’t call me, sir, this isn’t boot camp. Call me Bennett.” The co-CEO’s words may have sounded unassuming, and business forward, but his eyes were involved in an entirely different venture. His eyes bouncing from one curve to another, up and down his newest play thing’s body, all the while his mind worked on not only measuring her assets, but also his chances of conquering her sooner, rather than later.

Jennifer: “Anything else, Mr. Bennett?”

Bennett: “It can just be Bennett, but that works. Actually yeah, one more thing. Can you follow me back in my office? I’d like you to taste some of the coffee we just had brought in.” Jennifer’s heart began to pound, as the realization of what he was truly asking set in. He was not Austin — not the man or the brother she wanted. And yet, here is was, a billionaire, a man tied for sexiest man on the planet, asking her to join him for some “coffee”. Jennifer hesitated, intending to decline his offer, hoping to remain loyal to Austin though he did not even know her. But, just as she began to formulate her perhaps career ending rejection, her eyes drifted across the lobby, and connected with Amber’s. Who she could see, was being similarly propositioned by Austin, with a motioning for her to join him in his private office — his eyes filled with no less lust or expectancy. It was something Amber saw as well, she having been making the exact same calculations, holding the exact same plan to say no. The brunettes’ stares became affixed to one another, and every movement they made, the other copied. And so that is how it was that a single accidental and meaningless half-step towards Bennet by Jennifer, changed both girl’s lives forever. For Amber followed, and then so did Jennifer, each walking the other, despite their distance, into the arms of the man the other loved.

As each woman walked into the separate offices of their employers, their minds raced and raged, angry at the other for daring to accept an invitation, both knew to be sexual in nature. They hadn’t even spoken to one another, and yet, both felt deeply that the other should have known and respected their feelings and desires.

Despite the pretext, coffee was quickly forgotten, as firm hands were laid on each of their shapely asses, and skin-tight dresses were peeled off bodies and breasts. Each woman thought only of their anger for the other as they relented, using that anger to fuel the passion with which they pleased their respective charge. Sucking with abandon, flexing and stretching in ways they never had before, milking the cock of the brother before them for every last ounce of cum, only stopping when each brother was thoroughly spent, and was forced to ask for a rest. Each buxom brunette made a point to scream, and in concert force their new lovers to grunt, loudly enough for them to be heard in the other’s office. The sounds of such lustful callings, set each of them to seethe, and redouble their efforts to truly enthrall their own partner — whether they wanted him, or not.

Neither Amber or Jennifer had intended to have sex with the man they knew the other to want before that day, but now — now there was nothing more that they wanted in the whole world, than to punish the other. Each swearing to themselves not to destroy the other, or get them fired, but instead to do everything in their power to keep the heart and body of the other’s dream man — forcing their rival to watch as their chances at happiness faded into oblivion.

Two full hours of pleasure passed for the brothers, before Amber and Jennifer allowed them peace and exited their offices — each making sure that they left their own hair disheveled and clothes unfixed, so that their new rival could see, and know what they had done, as if they did not already. Those states of appearance were not lost on either, when finally they came back into each other’s view. Their glares were piercing and faces contorted with frustration and rage. They each took a single step towards the other, struggling with the temptation to have it out right there and then — to rip every hair from the other’s head, and make them wish they had never agreed to sleep with the other’s one true love. Their slow march towards violence was interrupted however, when the phones at their desks suddenly rang.

It was there that their day, and duties, took a more mundane course, allowing only for the briefest moments in which they might share a glare with their rival. Schedules to complete, appointments to keep — food to be ordered, and messes to be sorted, all kept them busy, and distracted as one could be, whilst working with someone in such close proximity, that you hate more than words can relay.


Chapter 3:

5 days had passed, since Amber and Jennifer first began their new jobs at Bowman International.

5 days, since they each, through the slightest of missteps, had torn each other’s hearts out, and not moments thereafter, set their minds and souls against one another.

5 days, and still the two buxom brunettes had not spoken a single word to one another, or even come close to settling their grievances. .

At first, unconscious and accidental was the silence that lingered between them, but their mutually wounding decision to take the other’s “love” into a sexual embrace, forged chance into rule, and happenstance into principle. And so even when situations called for it, and necessity demanded it, they still refused to speak, each working alone and at times together to find unspoken workarounds, such as nods without words, and the forced altering of wicked glares into glances more focused on instruction and assent, than animosity and malice.

In that silence, they worked, day in and day out, finding a groove in not only their own work routines, but also in their budding relationships with their assigned brother, or as they now referred to them: boyfriends.

The floor was busy, at nearly all times of the day, save for the last hours of the day, those two after 5:00 PM, hours the Bowman brothers affectionately called the “Power Hours”. The doors and phones to the building were shuttered and shut off, and each employee was left to work on those projects which required time left undisturbed. This “break”, as one might perceive it, was nothing but for most employees, keeping even the co-CEOs busy, each working tirelessly, trying to improve not just the bottom line, but the prospects of finding investments yet to be made. That continuation of efficiency and productivity applied to all, but Jennifer and Amber. Their job was dealing with the public, taking calls, playing liaison between the brothers and the world. A world, which during the “Power Hours” was effectively shut out, leaving the brunettes not much to do but to tidy up, and and organize the work that had been done that day.

It was the tidying, or the appearance of as much, that first rekindled the two assistants’ still burning, but work-idled hostilities. For in the lobby, of the 85th floor, stood a glass wall, which at least as a visual cue, separated Austin’s side of the floor, from Bennett’s. Running along each side of that glass wall was a pair of backless couches. Their stated purposes was for guests to sit on, and as such, the glass often found itself dirtied and smudged by those that leaned against it.

On most nights Jennifer did her work, and did so without looking up to see what Amber was doing, as too great was the chance that the two would make eye contact and find themselves locked in a flame-etched mutual glare, which often took hours and interruption to break. However, that night, something was different, for Amber was not behind her desk, folding and filing. No, she instead, carried a towel and a bottle of blue window cleaning solution over to the glass wall, and with a barely restrained smirk took to a kneel on top of the backless couch. From that position she raised her arms, and pressed her breasts and body against the glass. The move, intentionally exposed, through the tightness of her dress, and the fullness of the press applied, every inch of her frontal body to all in around her. Amber made her strokes long and languid, her motions soft and sensual, hoping to show off to the brothers, should either walk by, the fullness of her physical prowess. The plan worked within minutes, as at first Austin, and then Bennett, walked out of their offices for a quick cup of coffee, and saw the show being put on. Their trip, intended to only last moments, lasted longer, and then longer still, each staying for the entirety of Amber’s seemingly impromptu, but fully planned display.

As the scene unfolded, Jennifer sat, jaw agape, outraged at her rival’s stunt. She wanted to act, to draw attention back to herself and away from Amber, but she did not know how. She had no reason. No similar show to put on. At least not now. At least not tonight… It did not take long for the “Power Hours” to turn to shut down time, and a night of fury felt by Jennifer, and glee felt by Amber, to turn into a new day, and another step in their rivalry.

A step which came, when Amber again stood, and grabbed her supplies, looking forward to another solo display, in which she would have the attention of both brothers, both hers and her rival’s, to herself. But as she began her prideful walk, Jennifer rose too, likewise carrying window cleaning solution and a towel in her own hands. It took not a second for Amber to realize what was happening. She was being met at the glass wall by her enemy, and they two would both press themselves into it, putting on the same show, with nearly the exact same assets, trying to draw the eye of the brothers. An audience that arrived right on time, both tantalized by the prior night’s performance, and excited to catch the encore. Austin and Bennett were surprised by Jennifer’s decision to join amber in cleaning windows, but both still took their places, not next to each other, but apart, each trying to look uninterested, as their women took to kneeling positions on the couches directly across from one another.

The challenge was unmistakable. The meaning clear. And each of the brunette assistants knew it was far too late to back out. They had committed to it, to allowing the brothers to compare not only their bodies, but also the way with which they moved them, as they each pressed themselves up against the glass. The two, did their best not to look at each other, wanting the scene, as ridiculous as the goal may have been, to seem natural, and their actions unbound from the others.

Despite that desire to appear independent, they took what seemed to be a single breath together on an unspoken cue, and then went forward, slowly pushing their bodies against the glass, matching asset against asset, so that nipple lined up against nipple, breast against breast, and pubic mound against pubic mound. A sane man, might have commented that such is not the way to clean glass, but there were no sane men on the 85th floor. Not after the show started — the two siblings both having been lost in their sexual desire for not just their own assistant, but their brother’s.

Their beautiful dance moved left and right, up and down — every movement made in a manner most torturous for those that watched. At moments it seemed like there was no glass, or pretense of cleaning, instead seemingly like the two were lovers, locked in the world’s most sexual embrace. And though that was how the performance was seen by Austin and Bennett, nothing could be further from the truth lived by Jennifer and Amber. Though they made no eye contact, and spoke no words, a million insults and snide jabs were made per second, with each body part, and action. Their every move. Every slide. Every lean was made with intention, each girl struggling to steal the spotlight, and embarrass she who they battled.

The first night’s “show” lasted approximately 20 minutes, however tonight’s show, lasted nearly an hour, before the automated light dimmers kicked on, when the clock hit 7 o’clock bringing with a sudden jolt all those lost in the moment back to reality. Each of the brunettes broke off from one another, fully spent from their engagement. Though the ending had not been planned or forced, the two fell back from their kneeling position, into a stand next to the couch. Unsure how to break from the tension of the moment, both rivals set themselves to collecting their cleaning tools awkwardly, before hurrying back to their desks. The brothers, with no more finesse, pretended to have finished that they were doing, and scurried back to their offices. It took only a minute, before both Bennett and Austin’s will broke, each hitting their buzzer, calling to be joined by their respective assistant — “compliments” needing to be paid to each girl for their glass cleaning technique.


Chapter 4:

When the next morning came, and the new work day began, both Amber and Jennifer were shaken. They had spent every ounce of energy then had, pitting their bodies against each other in a performance that drove their respective charges absolutely insane with lust, but in the end, neither had seemed to have earned even a single step of distance from the other. In fact, all they heard from their boyfriend and employer, was how hot they BOTH were, and how much they would love to have a threesome, or even a foursome. Normally, such a comment would cause a giant fight, or even a breakup, but neither girl was willing to lose their war against the other in an attempt to defend the principle of exclusivity. That refusal punish or fume at the suggestion seemed especially appropriate, given that in the back of their own mind, they each hoped and wished for the chance to sleep with the brother who was not currently theirs, even if it involved such a scenario.

Still, the fact that their contest had been seen as a draw, and so much of one that the brother they had had to themselves, now wanted both they and their rival, was maddening. They could try again, but to what point and purpose? They could find a different way to battle, but were the brothers to see it, perhaps the comments made would lead suggestions to requests. Demands. Plans, even. No, they each decided, that they could not risk it. A threesome, a foursome, or even a strong desire for as much could tear what little they held firmly apart. And so they each decided, without a discussion with their lover or rival, that they would need to keep their battles private. Earning their victory, and establishing their dominance without either brother knowing. It was the only way to make sure they could hold on to what they had, whilst still working for what they truly wanted.

And yet, despite a shared certainty as to the terms of it, neither girl knew how they could so secretly engage — that is until, Larry from the IT department arrived.

Larry: “Uh … hi, ladies.” His voice was timid and shaky, he being unsure exactly how to address two women with such substantial busts and beautiful bodies.

Amber: “Hi, welcome to the 85th floor!”

Jennifer: “How can we help you?” The two closed on him quickly, as they had on every guest to the floor that day, their feud now escalating to dangerous levels of competition.

Larry: “Well, I’m Larry.”

Amber: “Ok…”

Larry: “From IT.”

Jennifer: “That’s what your little badge says!”

Larry: “Right, well… The Bowmans asked that I install a new program on your computers.”

Amber: “What kind of program?”

Larry: “It’s a new chat program, the brothers want the whole company to use. He didn’t want to use Hangouts, Facebook Messenger, or even Abacus, so he is having us design our own. We’re having some trouble with some of the features, and the Bowmans asked that we let you two try it out, to communicate with each other.

Jennifer: “You mean for me to chat with Amber?”

Amber: “No, you can’t mean that.”

Larry: “Actually yeah, that’s exactly what I mean. In fact, you two will be the only ones on the chat program.”

Jennifer: “We don’t need that.”

Amber: “No … we really don’t.”

Larry: “I’m sorry, but I gotta. Look, it’ll take me like 3 minutes to install. Just be careful though. Our backup system isn’t installed yet, so if you close the chat window, you’ll lose everything you said. So don’t type anything you’ll need to show others later.” Then, advice and instruction having been given, and without even allowing a second to pass in which they could deny him again, the overweight, pimple-faced IT wiz had set to work, installing the program on both of their computers in even less time than he quoted. As the IT guy moved from Amber’s computer to Jennifer’s, Amber returned to her own duties, leaving Jennifer alone with Larry. “Ok, so, let’s send our first message, why don’t you have a seat.”

Jennifer: “Oh, I don’t know. We can handle it from here.” Bennett’s assistant said in resistance, whilst standing over Larry’s shoulder, not wanting to have to break the silence between her and her rival.

Larry: “I’ll show you. It’s easy. And I need to make sure it works.” With that, Larry moved and motioned, leaving Jennifer with little choice but to sit.

Jennifer: “I don’t know what to say.” The comment sounded flippant and silly to Larry. How could she not know what to say?

Larry: “Here.” He being both in a hurry to get back to his desk, and unsure as to how to navigate the confusion of the moment, the IT wiz reached over Jennifer’s shoulders and breasts and typed two letters. ‘Hi’. “Now hit send.”

Jennifer: “But…” Jennifer’s finger hovered over the keyboard, seeming to shake from some force that went unseen to Larry.

Larry: “Look, just hit the enter key. Like this!” His words of reassurance came only a quarter second before he took the brunette’s finger, and forcefully brought it down on the enter key, thereby sending the first word ever sent, in any form of communication, from Jennifer to Amber or vice versa.

‘Read’ is all it said. A single word, but one that sent shivers up Jennifer’s spine. She did not want it. She hated it. The thought that they had now communicated. That she had been the one to break their icy silence. It was tragic! Terrible! Disgusting!

Larry: “Alright, well my work here is done. See ya later, ladies!” His goofy goodbye echoed through the empty, tension-filled 85th floor, as he disappeared into the elevator, leaving only his stench, and impact on the two brunettes’ rivalry in his wake.

Minutes passed, and Jennifer remained stuck, here eyes firmly affixed to the chat box which read ‘Read.’ She didn’t know what to do. Should she close the window? Did Amber really see the message? Will they both pretend like it never happened? After all, her finger was forced into sending it… But just as soon as Jennifer began to relax, and thought about moving on with her day, dots began to move in the lower left hand corner of the chat window, symbols which she knew meant Amber was typing.

Chat Log:

Amber: “I thought we weren’t speaking, bitch.”

Jennifer: “You know I would never speak to you willingly, cunt.”

Amber: “Could have fooled me. And ‘hi’? Really? That’s how we start this?”

Jennifer: “Fuck you. I didn’t send that.”

Amber: “I bet you wish you did, after last night.”

Jennifer: “After last night what? You mean after I showed you what a real woman looks like?”

Amber: “Please, Bennett and Austin couldn’t take their eyes off me. Just like the night before.”

Jennifer: “If you think that was anything else than a tie, you’re wrong.”

Amber: “Ties are for losers. We. Need. To. Settle. This.”

Jennifer: “Anytime. Anywhere.”

Though more dots appeared, for a brief second, the chat suddenly ended, as Austin and Bennett walked out of their offices, each requesting their assistant’s attention.

Austin: “Hey, how would you feel about a double date?”

Amber: “Sure, babe. I could use a night out on the town. Who is the other couple?”

Bennett: “We are!” The excited twin proclaimed, as he, with Jennifer on his arm, walked over.

It was written on both their faces, beneath the feigned excitement, the anger. The frustration. Not only had they finally communicated, if not vocally. Not only had they been interrupted. But now, they also had to go on a double date with each other, and watch as the woman they hate most in the world, clings to, and brings a smile to the face of the man they love most. But they could not back out. Could not escape. They would have to just grin and bear another night with their rival, leaving settlement for another day — or so they thought.


Chapter 5:

After a brief sojourn to their respective apartments to get dressed, Jennifer and Amber took Uber rides down to Bennaton’s, the newest Manhattan hot spot. It was a restaurant neither could ever have afforded on their own, but in their new roles as girlfriends to two men who were well on their way to becoming the richest in the world, it was normal. Expected. And they in turn, would be expected to wear clothes fitting the occasion, expensive outfits from the New York’s best designers. Luckily, a slew of such outfits had been delivered to them. Not just today, or yesterday, but on everyday since the tabloids began to reveal to the world the women’s new status. “Babes of the Bowmans”, one read. “CEOs’ Hoes”, read another. And though the stories were demeaning, the clothes were magnificent. Outfits that each of the busty brunette women had only dreamed about owning, tailored to fit their abnormally supple figures. Outfits that each wore triumphantly, as they walked into the restaurant, on their boyfriends’ suit-swaddled arms.

Despite the earlier chat conversation that took place between the two, Amber or Jennifer were both still unwilling to speak a single word to each other, each still clinging to the legacy of their silence. One might think, that such a refusal would have made the double date awkward, but neither Austin and Bennett seemed to notice — each more interested in talking about their newest Indian expansion, or how they were thinking about purchasing the San Francisco 49ers, to show up Mark Zuckerberg.

The dinner passed quickly, a speed driven by the fact that both Austin and Bennett had decided to enjoy themselves fully, drinking one martini after another, until they were both completely hammered. Drunk beyond reason. Neither able to walk, or even speak in coherent sentences. That being the case, and their long night having been made short, Amber and Jennifer helped them both to a cab, and back to their shared luxury condo in one of New York’s most exclusive high-rises.

Each of the assistants turned arm candy, worked together to carry their lovers onto, and into the only made bed in the residence. Their intention was to drop them and leave, not wanting spend a single moment alone with each other, but as they gently laid their drunken boyfriends down, those being carried woke up from their stupor for the briefest of moments and dragged those that carried them down to the bed. The women were not adverse to the idea of sleeping in such a beautiful apartment, in such a comfortable bed. In fact, they could both easily and happily bring themselves to do so, even with their rival there, as long as distance and decorum was maintained. Despite that willingness, they could not tolerate it while wearing dresses worth the same as a down payment on a house. That inability in mind, they each crawled and spun, twisted and turned, until they were finally able to slip out of their expensive outfits, laying each on the modern headboard behind their head.

All was peaceful, at first — each woman doing their best to just sleep, and ignore that a woman they hated with every fiber of their being was not even a foot from them. But slowly, as each hitched breath was released, and every adjustment of blanket became a tug, the two began to wear on each other. That wearing became tearing, and peace became war, when Austin ripped one of the only two pillows left, away from Amber. With that act, the billionaire brother left two enemies — two rivals to share one pillow, and set flame to kindle.

For the sake of calm, Amber tried sleeping without a pillow, after she found her attempts to take back one of Austin’s fruitless. But slowly, regrettably, she came to the realization that without something behind her head, she would never be able to rest. Her circumstances were known to Jennifer, who for her part, shockingly, tried to allow a place for her rival’s head on the last pillow between them. It worked for a moment, with each of the brunettes leaning their backs up against one another, so that they could both use the unfortunately small cushion, with as little drama as possible.

But soon, without trigger or torment, the calm faded. For within Jennifer, desire built, as she felt her rival’s back pressed against hers — as she could hear her breathing. She wanted … something. Anything. But not that. Not peace. Not comfort. She couldn’t explain it, or understand it, but it drove her to act, nonetheless — an act which came when she with all her might tugged the pillow she had offered so sweetly back, and out from under Amber’s head.

Amber could do not but respond, and within a single second thereafter, the two women, caught between their unconscious lovers, turned to face one another, and dug their fingers in each other’s long brown hair. They each tried to kick at each other, but found they were too close, the motions too violent, each instead wrapping their soft thighs around those of their enemy. Left with not else with which to fight, they slammed their breasts into each other, pressing and twisting, back and then forth. The feeling was painful, yes, but the act of it, the occurrence of it, was truly intoxicating.

They had thought about the moment, and their engagement for so long. Dreaming about it, both as they worked, and as they slept. It had driven, as a secret motivator, their every thought and action, for days and even months on end. Then, without warning, there it was, finally, the confrontation with their rival — a chance for each of them to prove that they were the better woman, and hurt she who so willingly broke their heart.

So endeavor they did, mashing their silk bra-bound tits against each other. Rubbing them across each other, until so great became their need for more, that they both separated just for a moment, each grasping wildly to unclasp their enemy’s bra. It took only a few seconds, and a single move to remove, and then they re-engaged, slamming the flesh of their tits together for the first time. The feeling was incredible, sending what felt like bolts of lightning through each their bodies. And electricity it may indeed have been, as it shocked them both into stopping, for one second, then two, then 20, each woman laying there still, clinging tightly to the other’s hair, eyes locked, mouths open, and bodies quivering with excitement. Then, as if given the signal to continue, by some force unseen, they continued with another slam, this one like the last, robbed them of their ability to move, as they processed the incredible feeling. And though the pleasure and pain from each press did not diminish, they began to move faster, and require less time to enjoy and recover.

Hard and rough, each press was, with both women trying to punish the other for daring to challenge them. Their hands and fingers strained to pull themselves closer to their rival, but before long, they could get no closer, for the full length of their bodies pressed into one another. Breasts smashed together. Stomachs flattened in parallel. Legs intertwined and straining. But that reality did little to quell their need for more, and so they began to wrestle for position, looking for angles from which they could push harder, and test even more of their muscles against those of their enemy. Soon, their wrestling became so fierce and passionate that they rolled, one over the other, placing Jennifer now next to Austin, and Amber next to Bennett.

It took only a second for them to realize what had happened, and even less time for them to begin scrambling desperately to undue what had been done. Not because they found the thought of being next to the man they wanted repugnant, but instead because they found the thought of letting their rival have theirs to be much, much worse. Despite the speed at which they moved to retake their rightful place, they each found themselves caught, around the waist, by the flailing arm of the other’s lover, woken if only in the slightest by all the movement taking place. They tried to pull away, and even to reach for the other for aid, but found themselves no match for the strength of their employers, who each took the other’s into a warm and intimate embrace. From such a grasp they looked to each other, their eyes sending a stream of warnings and threats, each of which succeeded in letting them know exactly how to torture their rival. Such punishment in mind, they each turned into the body to which they were held. And though they both fumed at what the other was doing, each felt that their only defense was offense, and could only punish, and not stop.

Having chosen their course, destructive and hurtful as it was, the brunettes went to work. Each, with the softest of motions, undid the belt of the brother in their clutches, and slowly slid their hand into his boxers. There, they began to slowly stroke, and gently massage, until soft became hard. Upon the accomplishment, both rivals looked back to one another, shooting each other an expression twisted by anger and sadness, one telling of both confidence and heartbreak. And yet, that dichotomy did nothing to dissuade, in fact instead it hardened, the confidence enraging them, and the heartbreak speaking to the success of their own actions.

Actions which were only a taste of what was to come, as after each woman shot the other a final, threatening glare, they reached in, and took out the cock of the other’s boyfriend. The two women lingered above the erect member of the other’s man, just long enough to hear the other gasp in outrage. Like a gun fired to start a race, that breathless annunciation of frustration set both women to lower their lips around the dick before them, intent on not just tasting the meat which they had worked so hard to, and then failed to obtain, but also to prove that they could please better than she who had caught them. Their tongues swirled and licked, and their teeth bit ever so gently on the tip of the flexing penises within their maw. It was as if they had trained at the same school — the same academy of oral pleasure, as in unison they moved from lick to stroke — nibble to suck, with the most simultaneous of timing. The Bowman brothers, though still lost in their drunken state, began to buck and squirm unconsciously, each moaning together, with no difference in volume or verve. The apparent lack of disparity between the pleasure felt by the two being pleased, and consequently, the possible approach of another maddening draw, set the women into a fury. The very threat of it pushing both women to rise up, and turn their bodies, so that each faced horizontal across the bed on all fours. They were lost in their own blinding focus, pouring every ounce of attention to forcing their rival’s lover to cum, before the opposite could happen to theirs. Their intensity and distraction, hid from the girls the fact that their new position placed had placed them rear to rear. Each having their thong-“covered” asses, and pussies, not but centimeters from the other’s. That unknowing ended, however, on their first passionate motion of sucking, which brought their bodies back, and their asses together — not in a glancing way, or at a soft angle, but fully — completely, so that cheek flattened against cheek, and pussy lips kissed deeply through only the barest threads of fabric.

On contact their closed eyes shot open, and all breath left their bodies, their mouths opening in a deep, guttural moan around the cock of their rival’s boyfriend. The feeling, not unlike when their breasts first touched, sent a glorious quake through their bodies, again like nothing they had ever felt, the effect of it nearly making both women cum right then and there. Despite the shock of it, and how incredible it felt, they pulled apart, and tried to regroup, after a moment continuing to use their tongues and mouths to please the brother before them. But now, knowing what they could have with little to no effort, the rivals added to each sucking rise, a rock back, which brought their womanhoods and asses together again. In that way, they began to trib fuck each other, while draining the sweet juices from the other’s lover. And so they built, not just the busty brunettes, but the Bowmans as well, the collective of the four filling the room with not only the smell of sex, but also a symphony of their lust-amplified moans. Both Jennifer and Amber tried to resist the wave that began to take them, but in a last second decision, decided to let go of that resistance, so that they could focus on making the brother beneath them cum. Such a decision was made not seconds before each and all of them came, all buckling and breaking together, in a perfectly-timed four way orgasm.

The release wrecked the two assistants, who without a moment passing, fell back to the center of the bed together. In the speed at which they collapsed, they had not even the time to swallow the cum shot into their mouths by the other’s brother. That was reality was noticed by both, as their dreary eyes caught sight of the other. Exhaustion and fatigue had already set in, and yet, they both, with one last ounce of strength, pulled the other close, and used their tongue to try and clean as much of their boyfriend’s cum from their rival’s mouth as they could. To anyone watching, it would have looked like kissing, but it was anything but, being more akin to a man driven crazy, collecting the remnants of his burned house. The insanity that drove them to so lick and remove, had been forged by the fact that both girls had not only come to not one, but two simultaneous draws. Scores of equality which came, as they did, each allowing their enemy to push them into the most incredible orgasm they had ever felt.

Despite the fury that drove their attempts to clean the other’s face and mouth of cum they felt belonged to them, they succumbed to exhaustion nonetheless, falling asleep while not only in each other’s arms, but with their tongues still wrestling.


Chapter 6:

Something. Something was wrong. Thoughts of as much flew through Amber’s mind, as she felt Austin begin to stir behind her on the bed. She tried to derive what it could be, by just thinking. What had happened last night? Where was she? Who was she kissi… Her eyes shot open, and to her horror, she found that she and Jennifer were still wrapped around one another, their unmoving tongues left dangling in the other’s still-open mouth. As fast as she could, she pulled back, waking Jennifer in the process — the retraction having been made just in time to avoid the brothers, well-rested, and only a little hungover, from catching them. The brunettes, embarrassed, and overwhelmed by what happened the night before, pretended to be fast asleep, hoping to earn a moment to think, before having to answer any questions, or confirm any suspicions the Bowmans might have. Their chance came, as Austin suggested in whisper to his brother, that the two slip out for a game of golf, without waking the girls. Assent was given in a nod, and after the two dressed, they left.

Despite efforts having been made to soften it, the sound of the door closing was loud, unmistakable, and all that was needed for Amber to pounce. A move Jennifer was ready for, as she reached out, and in unison, the women wrapped their fingers in their enemy’s hair once again. The tugs and yanks they each inflicted hurt, but more than pain, both women felt excitement — near uncontrollable excitement. The moment had finally come! They were alone, and would be for hours. Nothing could stop them. No interruptions. No circumstances to pull them apart. They could each finally prove their dominance over the other.

It was those thoughts that drove them, each pushing and pulling wildly, rolling this way and that, until finally, locked in their rival’s embrace, they fell off the bed, and onto the plush carpeted floor. As they struggled to get back to their feet, still clinging to one another, they could smell it. The scent of their boyfriend’s cum on the other. It enraged them both to the point of disgust, a feeling that could only be lessened by washing it off. That goal in mind, the two, nearly nude brunettes, slowly drug each other to the master bathroom’s walk-in, marble shower. Once there, they each released a single hand from the other’s hair, and ripped off the other’s panties, before turning on the water, full tilt, to one side.

Scalding! The water was. Hot to a degree well beyond comfort — a benefit, they both thought, as they released the other’s hair, and grabbed for their body, trying to wrangle the other into the destructive stream. All those nights at the gym, all those days spent jogging, and yet, here now, when they needed to overpower, they couldn’t. Instead finding that they could only hold sway, and not escape from or even weaken their enemy’s grasp. And so they bent themselves against the stalemate, trying desperately to overcome it, until finally they both collapsed to the shower floor, crashing down with equal parts of the painful stream raining down on them. Too pained to think of offense, they each tried to pull themselves away, but found the other’s grasp unrelenting, and too well-matched. Minutes passed as they battled without benefit, their skin turning bright red, and their eyes flooding with tears. So much anger — so much hate they had for their rival, and yet as the scalding water continued to fall, they each together gave in, collapsing into each other’s arms, as they finally, mercifully fell out of the stream’s path together.

There they laid, sobbing as a connected pair, just as they did on the first day they met, in the bathroom (of all places) of the 85th floor. They were as broken there in Bowman Industries, as they were there lying together in the brother’s shower. This time however, they had been broken not by some external decision, or by disappointment they could not control, but instead by each other. Minutes passed, before one of them released the other, and rose to their knees. It was Jennifer, who, still crying, reached out, and without any warning, flipped Amber onto her back, and inserted two fingers into her pussy, and a thumb on her clit. The infiltrated brunette did not struggle or resist, she still lost in her tears, instead only mustered a heaving gulp, with each of Jennifer’s strokes and rotations. Jennifer was not harsh or violent, but instead slow and merciful, still trying to force her enemy to cum, but fully aware that it could have easily been she stuck lying shattered on the shower floor. It did not take long, to overcome the sadness clouding Amber’s mind, for with every thrust of finger, she began to buck her hips, wanting more. Needing more. Not caring who was doing it, or why. And so Jennifer gave it to her: deeper, harder, three fingers, then four. Until finally, Austin’s assistant came, her body quaking as she gushed her sweet juices onto her rival’s probing fingers.

The release came with a self-satisfied sigh, as she who pleased fell backwards, coming to a rest on her back, lying in the stream of water which had now cooled to a steady warmth. It was a victory, of a sort, Jennifer thought to herself, as the last of her tears left her eyes. She had made her enemy cum, without cuming herself. That thought, and the smile it put upon her face, were interrupted however, as the basking brunette found herself suddenly entered by the fingers of her rival. She bucked her hips, and tried to pull herself away, but Amber had recovered, and was holding firm. In and out. In and out. As was done to her, but unwilling to simply follow the lead, the now-risen assistant lowered herself, and whilst holding onto her enemy, set tongue to clit, and set herself to lashing it back and forth. The attack worked in seconds, sending Jennifer into a full blown orgasm, as Amber sucked every ounce of juice she could from her opponent’s convulsing pussy.

Once satisfied that her rival was dry, Amber pulled back, and watched as Jennifer crawled away to the far corner of the shower, the newly victorious taking the opportunity to do the same to the opposite end.

In their states of sexual satisfaction, and momentarily ebbed anger, they each sat, with heavy breath, staring at the other with emotion-filled eyes. They were not glaring. Nor sharing sneers, like every moment before. No, they were too spent for that — too drained by the other. As seconds turned to minutes, each opened their mouths to speak, only to close them a moment later in silence. And though they did not speak, they each knew. That despite their state of exhaustion, their battle was not over. Not yet. A knowing shown, as each of them opened their legs, and gestured with a come hither finger. And hither they came, both scooting forward, until they met in the center of the shower, the warm water streaming down between them, hitting the top of each of their clits as they sealed together in a far too long denied scissor.

The moment was electric, the thick mist of steam and sex intoxicating, and the feeling of clit finally resting fully upon clit was glorious. And so it remained as they began to thrust into one another, their breasts bouncing with each come, and every go. Both wanted desperately to reach out and grab the other’s beautiful tits, each time their womanhoods came together, but found themselves unable to spare even a single limb, without collapsing from fatigue.

Their moans began to bounce and echo, filling the stall, and the entirety of the luxury apartment with the sounds of their epic confrontation. Slowly they thrust, and then quickly, hard they ground against each other, and then softly, each allowing the other to rest for brief moments, so they could continue, neither wanting the moment, or their feud to end. But finally, as each approached the coming of their own moment of release, the fire came back to them, and their will to conquer the other returned, driving them. Pushing them. Faster. Harder. Longer. Deeper. Until, finally, when they could give no more, and go no longer, they came — together — again. Thereafter, each collapsed forward into an exhausted embrace, in which they remained until they heard the door to the floor open once again, and the sounds of their boyfriend’s voices calling their names.


Chapter 7:

Technically true or not, Amber and Jennifer both believed that they had never spoken — at least not aloud. They had, admittedly, sent office chat messages to one another, which made text messages a barrier through which they had already broken. And especially after the cataclysmic events of the previous day, they could not resist. Each needing to make several things clear to the other.

[ Text Messages ]

[ Jennifer: “OMG. Yesterday…”

Amber: “I know”.

Jennifer: “That was incredible.”

Amber: “Yeah, I literally can’t even”.

Jennifer: “You know we’re not done though, bitch”

Amber: “Never. Not ever, cunt.”

Jennifer: “Don’t think that you’re safe at the office either.”

Amber: “You’re the one who needs to be worried.”

Jennifer: “Please…”

Finally establishing a free line of communication to the other, whilst still maintaining the security of the self-imposed confines of their hate-based relationship, felt like a thousand weights being lifted off their respective shoulders. For there was nothing they wanted to talk about more than their secret rivalry, and no one they would rather talk to more than the other about it. That need and desire laced every text received with excitement, and bound every message sent with anticipation.

Amber: “I took your panties.”

Jennifer: “I took yours too.”

Amber: “Seemed only right after you came on mine.”

Jennifer: “I figured the same.”

Amber: “Do you have mine with you?”

Jennifer: “In my hand right now… You?”

Amber: “Mmm, same.” ]

They each giggled, smiled, and scowled at their phone as they checked and then responded, And though their emotions and reactions were mixed, neither could be more excited. Neither could be more ready to be at work, and together again.

Austin: “Girls!” The co-CEO called out, asking for the attention of both assistants, just as they stepped off separate elevators onto the 85th floor. “This is John Hammersfield. He’s a contractor. Our contractor. I’ve asked him to help you two make the workflow of your spaces a little more comfortable and efficient.

Jennifer: “Uh, great.”

Amber: “Yeah, I love that idea.”

John Hammersfield: “Hi, girls.”

Austin: “Now, John, money’s no issue. Whatever they want, give it to them. Got it?”

John: “Understood.”

Austin: “Great! Now if you’ll all excuse me, Yahoo keeps calling with offers to sell, and I have to tell them to Bing the term: ‘fuck off'”. With that less than subtle comment, Austin took his leave, disappearing back into his office, leaving his own personal builder with his two favorite women.

John: “So, ideas?”

Jennifer: “Yes! Can you redo our desks?”

John: “Uh, sure, how did you want them.” His positive response, caused both brunettes to look at each other with a rye smile.

Amber: “Can you put them together? Like over here?” As Amber spoke, she motioned and moved, pointing out an area in the center of the floor.

Jennifer: “And what if, if you put my computer here.”

Amber: “And mine here.” The two assistants’ fingers pointed to spots directly opposed to one another.

John: “Would you want a separator between your legs?”

Jennifer and Amber: “No! No…”

John. “Ok. What else?”

Jennifer: “How about a copy room behind the desks. A private one, with a door that closed and locked.”

John: “You know there isn’t a lot of room back there, the room would be small. Barely enough room for one of you, let alone two. Like I could make it long and narrow, but that’s about it.”

Amber: “That’s fine!”

Jennifer: “Sounds perfect.”

John: “Alright, anything else?”

Amber: “Uh, we’ll let you know.

Jennifer: “Yeah, keep the plans open.”

John: “Can do.”

Bolstered by a desire to impress, and a budget without limitation, the floor quickly transformed from its original concept and design, into a veritable playground, in which Jennifer and Amber could test themselves against one another.


Chapter 8:

[ Office Chat System:

8:01 AM — Jennifer has logged on.

8:02 AM — Amber has logged on. ]

[ Jennifer: “Alright, bitch, ready to g…” ] Even before Bennett’s assistant could finish typing her opening challenge, she could feel the heel-less foot of her rival rub against her shin, through the opening between their newly moved, connected, and reconstructed desks.

[ Amber: “Been read…”] The favor was quickly returned, however, as Amber too felt herself interrupted by a soft caress.

Eyes darted back and forth, nervously, not to or at each other, but instead to the surrounds, each girl wanting to make sure that their newest hobby would not be discovered. Luckily, they were alone, and had requested that their desks be built in such a way, that anything that happened beneath it could be seen by no one other than perhaps Superman, or one of his kin. And so, in that privacy, they set to work, testing their feet, toes, and legs against each other’s.

As an opening gambit, they pressed the full length of their feet together, sole against sole, trying to push the other back from their desk, until, before long, they settled on a stalemated position from which they tried to interlace their pantyhose-covered toes. Once they had so done, they tried to overpower the other, playing an odd game of mercy, with their feet, trying to bend the other’s digits against their will — each closing their eyes to enjoy the feeling of silk shifting against silk, and heel pressing against heel. Lust took each of them before long, causing their feet and toes to separate and move upward, tracing lines and paths up the others thigh, until finally they could use their outstretched toes to stimulate the other’s clit. There they sat, lost in the the caress, and the feeling, more focused on pleasure than competition, that is until:

[Jennifer: “Biiiiittttccchhhh.”]

[Amber: “Fuuuuccckkkk yoooouuuu’] Even their typing was broken and labored, using all of their energy to manipulate their digits well enough to bring their rival to orgasm.

[Jennifer: ‘Cuuummm for me.”]

[Amber: “Yooouuu first…”]

[Jennifer: “You can’t maaaake me c…”]

The boast was cut off, by a sudden twist of Amber’s toes, and a viscous orgasm that tore through Jennifer’s body.

[Amber: “You were saying, cunt?”]

[Jennifer: “You got lucky.”]

[Amber: “Uh, huh. Whatever. Now, slut, it’s your turn.”]

[Jennifer: “What does that mean? You want me to toe you, or…?’]

[Amber: “Nope. I used my tongue on you in the shower. And now that I beat you, you need to use yours on me. So crawl under our desks, and lick me. NOW.”]

[Jennifer: “You beat me at one thing, let’s get that straight. And second, you’re nuts, we’ll get caught.”]

[Amber: “I’ll keep an eye out. So shut up, and please me, whore.”]

[Jennifer: “Fine! But you better watch my back.”]

After hitting send, Jennifer gave a final, good look around the room, slowly slid down her office chair, and crawled beneath the table. Deftly, and only half-reluctantly, the temporarily defeated brunette pulled her rival’s pantyhose down, her panties aside, and with every effort she could muster, began to do exactly what she was told to do: please. And so she did, with the first touch of her tongue sending Amber into near convulsions, even though every ounce of her energy was focused on remaining upright and keeping up the appearance of looking busy. Jennifer’s tongue placement and usage were masterful, matching without question Amber’s shower floor heroics. So good was the reward granted, for a toe-gasm well-earned, that the pleasure-lost lookout let up on her vigil, and closed her eyes. All at that moment was forgotten by the seated assistant. Where she was. How she felt about Jennifer. And how precarious a position she was currently in. All she could think about, was how good the tongue flicking against her clit felt. But suddenly, all was remembered.

Bennett: “Uh, where is Jennifer?” The voice of Bennett asked quizzically, forcing Amber’s eyes to shoot open in horror, as she tried to straighten herself in her chair. The sound was too near, meaning he was right behind her — on the verge of seeing she who pleased under the table. Jennifer, for her part, had two options. One, hide, and hope Amber could collect herself, and fend off his questions, or two, continue, and make her rival’s life hell. She chose the latter, for reasons even she couldn’t list, thereafter redoubling her efforts, trying her best to make Amber squirm, or even cum, whilst Bennett looked on. Amber used her hands to try and fend off Jennifer’s continued and intensified assault, but failed, as the expert tongue applied forced her to release in epic fashion, as waves of pleasure swept over her body, and juices, both sweet and forbidden, cascaded into her enemy’s waiting mouth. She screamed out, her lust-filled voice echoing, and ricocheting off every wall of the 85th floor, leaving Bennett standing not but feet behind her, confused and worried about the state of his brother’s assistant.

Bennett: “Are you … alright?”

Amber: “…”

Bennett: “Amber?” The co-CEO tried to drop to a knee, to get a better look at Amber’s face and eyes, worried that her scream was one of pain or panic. But, as quick as a hiccup, Jennifer had popped back out the other side of the connected desks, and without being noticed, made her way around, and grabbed her lover from behind.

Jennifer: “She’ll be ok. I’ll make sure of that.”

Bennett: “Are you sure, what was that scream?”

Jennifer: “Well, one of us had a big meal. But, hey, you have a call coming in from Citigroup, honey. You need to take it. It’s urgent.”

Bennett: “Indigestion, got it. Anyway … I better take it. You watch her.”

Jennifer: “Oh I will. Always have.”

Bennett: “Thanks.” As Jennifer’s naive lover went back to his office to wrestle with his phone, trying to find a call that never existed, Jennifer smirked.

[ Amber: “You. Fucking. Bitch.” ] Amber typed after a moment of rest, only having barely recovered from being frozen in her chair, due to being mortified and fossilized by unbelievable pleasure.

[ Jennifer: “Yup. Thought you’d like that.” ] Jennifer responded, when she made it back to her chair.


Chapter 8:

[ Office Chat System:

8:01 AM — Jennifer has logged on.

8:02 AM — Amber has logged on. ]

[ Jennifer: “Alright, bitch, ready to g…” ] Even before Bennett’s assistant could finish typing her opening challenge, she could feel the heel-less foot of her rival rub against her shin, through the opening between their newly moved, connected, and reconstructed desks.

[ Amber: “Been read…”] The favor was quickly returned, however, as Amber too felt herself interrupted by a soft caress.

Eyes darted back and forth, nervously, not to or at each other, but instead to the surrounds, each girl wanting to make sure that their newest hobby would not be discovered. Luckily, they were alone, and had requested that their desks be built in such a way, that anything that happened beneath it could be seen by no one other than perhaps Superman, or one of his kin. And so, in that privacy, they set to work, testing their feet, toes, and legs against each other’s.

As an opening gambit, they pressed the full length of their feet together, sole against sole, trying to push the other back from their desk, until, before long, they settled on a stalemated position from which they tried to interlace their pantyhose-covered toes. Once they had so done, they tried to overpower the other, playing an odd game of mercy, with their feet, trying to bend the other’s digits against their will — each closing their eyes to enjoy the feeling of silk shifting against silk, and heel pressing against heel. Lust took each of them before long, causing their feet and toes to separate and move upward, tracing lines and paths up the others thigh, until finally they could use their outstretched toes to stimulate the other’s clit. There they sat, lost in the the caress, and the feeling, more focused on pleasure than competition, that is until:

[Jennifer: “Biiiiittttccchhhh.”]

[Amber: “Fuuuuccckkkk yoooouuuu’] Even their typing was broken and labored, using all of their energy to manipulate their digits well enough to bring their rival to orgasm.

[Jennifer: ‘Cuuummm for me.”]

[Amber: “Yooouuu first…”]

[Jennifer: “You can’t maaaake me c…”]

The boast was cut off, by a sudden twist of Amber’s toes, and a viscous orgasm that tore through Jennifer’s body.

[Amber: “You were saying, cunt?”]

[Jennifer: “You got lucky.”]

[Amber: “Uh, huh. Whatever. Now, slut, it’s your turn.”]

[Jennifer: “What does that mean? You want me to toe you, or…?’]

[Amber: “Nope. I used my tongue on you in the shower. And now that I beat you, you need to use yours on me. So crawl under our desks, and lick me. NOW.”]

[Jennifer: “You beat me at one thing, let’s get that straight. And second, you’re nuts, we’ll get caught.”]

[Amber: “I’ll keep an eye out. So shut up, and please me, whore.”]

[Jennifer: “Fine! But you better watch my back.”]

After hitting send, Jennifer gave a final, good look around the room, slowly slid down her office chair, and crawled beneath the table. Deftly, and only half-reluctantly, the temporarily defeated brunette pulled her rival’s pantyhose down, her panties aside, and with every effort she could muster, began to do exactly what she was told to do: please. And so she did, with the first touch of her tongue sending Amber into near convulsions, even though every ounce of her energy was focused on remaining upright and keeping up the appearance of looking busy. Jennifer’s tongue placement and usage were masterful, matching without question Amber’s shower floor heroics. So good was the reward granted, for a toe-gasm well-earned, that the pleasure-lost lookout let up on her vigil, and closed her eyes. All at that moment was forgotten by the seated assistant. Where she was. How she felt about Jennifer. And how precarious a position she was currently in. All she could think about, was how good the tongue flicking against her clit felt. But suddenly, all was remembered.

Bennett: “Uh, where is Jennifer?” The voice of Bennett asked quizzically, forcing Amber’s eyes to shoot open in horror, as she tried to straighten herself in her chair. The sound was too near, meaning he was right behind her — on the verge of seeing she who pleased under the table. Jennifer, for her part, had two options. One, hide, and hope Amber could collect herself, and fend off his questions, or two, continue, and make her rival’s life hell. She chose the latter, for reasons even she couldn’t list, thereafter redoubling her efforts, trying her best to make Amber squirm, or even cum, whilst Bennett looked on. Amber used her hands to try and fend off Jennifer’s continued and intensified assault, but failed, as the expert tongue applied forced her to release in epic fashion, as waves of pleasure swept over her body, and juices, both sweet and forbidden, cascaded into her enemy’s waiting mouth. She screamed out, her lust-filled voice echoing, and ricocheting off every wall of the 85th floor, leaving Bennett standing not but feet behind her, confused and worried about the state of his brother’s assistant.

Bennett: “Are you … alright?”

Amber: “…”

Bennett: “Amber?” The co-CEO tried to drop to a knee, to get a better look at Amber’s face and eyes, worried that her scream was one of pain or panic. But, as quick as a hiccup, Jennifer had popped back out the other side of the connected desks, and without being noticed, made her way around, and grabbed her lover from behind.

Jennifer: “She’ll be ok. I’ll make sure of that.”

Bennett: “Are you sure, what was that scream?”

Jennifer: “Well, one of us had a big meal. But, hey, you have a call coming in from Citigroup, honey. You need to take it. It’s urgent.”

Bennett: “Indigestion, got it. Anyway … I better take it. You watch her.”

Jennifer: “Oh I will. Always have.”

Bennett: “Thanks.” As Jennifer’s naive lover went back to his office to wrestle with his phone, trying to find a call that never existed, Jennifer smirked.

[ Amber: “You. Fucking. Bitch.” ] Amber typed after a moment of rest, only having barely recovered from being frozen in her chair, due to being mortified and fossilized by unbelievable pleasure.

[ Jennifer: “Yup. Thought you’d like that.” ] Jennifer responded, when she made it back to her chair.


Chapter 9:

The 85th floor was dead, and had been for hours. After all, the Bowman brothers were both out of town, and without them, there are few reasons to visit a floor holding only their own personal offices. Despite that lack of actual business to take care of, Jennifer and Amber were not alone. No, Larry from IT had joined them, coming in and out, trying like hell to fix whatever issue kept Bennett from receiving a phone call from Citigroup, an issue he found difficult to identify, let alone solve.

Distracted though the computer tech was, he was fond, very fond in fact, of gazing at the CEO’s assistant/girlfriends. Not a surprise, given their busts, or builds, but more than an irritant, when two women want nothing more than to tear each other’s clothes off, undisturbed.

[ Amber: “It’s your fault he’s here, with your stupid imaginary Citigroup call, you get rid of him.” ]

[ Jennifer: “A. Fuck you, Screamy McGee. And B. I can’t just get rid of him. He’ll suspect something. The creeper will probably turn on the security cams when he gets back to his office.” ]

[ Amber: “Shit, you’re right.”]

[ Jennifer and Amber: “Copyroom.” ] Each sent their message simultaneously, the idea having popped into both their minds at the same time. Amber went first, doing her best to look nonchalant. Shortly after, Jennifer got up, and shouted.

Jennifer: “Larry, we have to make some copies for tomorrow’s board meeting. If anyone comes, just shout!”

Larry: “Sounds good! Will do.” His answer came muffled from inside the cable closet of Bennett’s office.

Once inside the painfully narrow copy room, the two looked at each other, and then to the room they had to work with. Amber went to speak — to comment on the possibilities that existed, but then stopped, realizing that the two had still never spoken a word to each other aloud. The look upon her face was a mix of half-hidden sadness, and near comic frustration, given all that had happened between the two. The look, and the feelings therein were shared by Jennifer, but rather than end the state of silence now, for such a trivial conversation, she instead reached up, pulled down her dress straps. The move left her bra-covered tits exposed, and put a devilish smirk on Amber’s face, who quickly followed suit. The two stepped forward, and pressed their chests together, their eyes rolling back in their heads with anticipation,and pleasure.

They moved and rubbed, one leaning left, and the other right, wrapping their arms around each other for better leverage, and easier application of force. Though both were still covered, Jennifer leaned in, and began to moan, ever so lightly, right in her rival’s ear. It was a test. For sound was sexy, to her. It drove her absolutely nuts, in fact, and she wanted to know, if given all their other similarities, the same applied to Amber. One might say the test was passed, as upon the release of the pleasure-drenched utterance, Amber’s body shuttered, and her arms loosened their grip — she would have fallen, had she not been caught by the firm embrace of her enemy. However, once she steadied, Austin’s assistant too leaned in, and began to moan softly into her opponent’s ear. Jennifer, driven mad by the return, sounded her pleasure again.

It was too much, just the sound of the other moaning, and the beautiful meaning behind the fact that they were doing it in unison. So intense it was, that for reasons neither fully understood, they both compelled to step back, and away. There they just stood, breathing, trying to gather themselves, all the while sharing an emotional and lustful gaze.

Neither moved at first, but then Amber, ready to re-engage, reached out, and pulled down the straps to Jennifer’s bra with a now only feigned hostility. Her rival countered, doing the same, thus freeing both of sets of tits, for an even more intimate embrace. Stepping forward, they pressed together again, forcing themselves not to pause as they had before, each instead fighting through the electricity they felt when one set of nipples came to rest upon the other.

It was magic, just as every other time they touched the other. Unlike anything they had ever felt before, unlike anything they ever could have imagined. It was as if they had been created to please each other — to bless the other’s body with their sexual talents. Such thoughts began to nip at their rivalry, in the back of their minds, softening it, bending it, warping it into something neither could define.

But such realizations of change found no place to surface, not now — not while they rubbed their beautiful breasts upon the other’s, competing in this pleasure game. For such actions blinded them to all else, their mental energies instead focused on their nipples fencing, and their breasts taking turns bulging and squishing beneath the others. And yet, despite the satisfaction each felt in their duel of tits, and the attention they paid to it, one rival craved more, a truth manifested as Amber released a gripped hand, and slid it into the front of her counterpart’s panties. From there she fingered gently, her hand quickly becoming drenched from Jennifer’s wetness. Not much was needed, not in terms of strokes or effort, as after only a few entries, waves of pleasure began to crash against Jennifer’s body, her knees growing weak and her legs giving way. Amber could feel such collapse coming, and caught she whom she forced to cum, thereafter lowering her slowly to the soft carpet below.

The defeated brunette laid there, eyes glistening with a mix of shame and happiness, as the victor lowered her pussy onto her rival’s face. Jennifer, for her part, immediately moved panties to the side, and began to devour Amber’s clit, holding it between her teeth, and lashing it with her tongue. Then, as if quenching a great thirst, she tasked with pleasing began to lap up the deluge of juices that began to flow from the woman atop her, all the while stabbing and swirling with her tongue. Amber’s eyes closed, as her mind reeled in pleasure, just as she began to buck her thick hips against the mouth of her again bested rival, a cataclysmic orgasm taking her within only a minute. As her body calmed from quaking, the victor moved back, until she laid upon the defeated, with every body part aligned. Then, she leaned in, and gently began to kiss the lips of she who she had bested, now in two straight contests. As the moment of mercy lingered, Amber pulled back and whispered:

Amber: “Jennifer… Do we need to keep fighting? Can’t we just…” The first words spoken between the two, were soft, beautiful, and even romantic. In truth, the answer was no, but in desire, it was yes! Shown as Jennifer began to struggle, and buck her own hips wildly, forcing her womanhood up, and into that of her rivals.

Jennifer: “Fight me!”

Amber: “But I… We…”

Jennifer: “Fight me!” Jennifer continued to thrust, until finally Amber responded reluctantly.

Awkward and fierce as the engagement was in such a cramped space, each received pleasure from their pubic collisions, the intensity of the moment, causing tears to well in both women’s brown eyes. Tears which were knocked loose to fall and wet their rival, as each wild thrust came and went. Finally, Amber began to succumb to the defeated’s thrusts, and Jennifer used the momentary weakness to flip their positions, so that bottom became top, and vice versa. The new leverage at her disposal, Jennifer lifted Amber’s leg, and forced their bodies into a tight scissor between the table and the wall of the room. From there she ground their pussies together hard, until, after minutes of forceful thrusts, Amber came. Jennifer, driven by a maddened and passionate desire, was not done, for she then lowered herself between her rival’s thighs, moved panties aside once again, and began to use her tongue to please her already exhausted “enemy”. And though she was doing as she pleased, in the act of pleasing she who finally spoke, it was not enough.

Jennifer: “Fight back!” She cried! “Fight back, bitch!” The licking assistant screamed as she continued to sob. Despite the demands, and the appearance of a continuation of hostilities, Amber’s words had clearly triggered something in Jennifer. And though Amber was confused, and still weak from cuming, she sat up, reached out, and pulled her rival close. Clinging to her in the tightest of embraces.

Amber: “Shhhh… Jennifer. Don’t…”

Jennifer: “Why won’t you fight me?” The question came as the frightened brunette, who desperately struggled to pull away. For she was terrified that she was going to lose … something… Someone. Someone she hated, or so she thought, but now…

Amber: “I will! Forever! We never have to stop. I promise. Just, let me…”

Jennifer: “But … but … if you win then you won’t… Then we can’t…”

Amber: “Shhh… I will. I need it too. I need you too.” She paused, her voice trembling. “I … I … love you, Jenn…” The words came as a hammer, not just to she who heard them, but to she who said them too. For neither had dared say it. Neither had dared even think it. That their feud, and hatred had become something less? Or more? Something beautiful and warm. Something loving and indescribable. How?

Larry: “Uh, hello?” The painfully inept summons came, as a knock rang out from the copyroom

door. “There is someone here for both of you in the lobby. Is this door supposed to be locked? Is this door supposed to even have a lock?”

The two brunettes stared at each other, confused, and crying, unsure what to do or how to respond. How to even breathe in a world where they are no longer the most opposed of enemies.

Amber: “We’ll be out in a minute! Girl talk!”

Larry: “Ok, I’ll tell them you’re on your way!”

Quickly they separated, each helping the other to stand. There they dressed, and did their best to straighten their disheveled and holepunch leavings-strewn hair. Amber went to unlock and open the door, but as she did, Jennifer reached out and pulled her back, thereafter laying on her rival a passionate kiss, devoid of any sense of anger or hatred. No instead it was deep and loving, soft and even timid, and as all else between them had been, it was magic. A magic that overwhelmed Austin’s assistant, she finding herself lost in not just the passion of the kiss, but also the emotions pouring forth through it. Emotions she herself had felt. Emotions she had dared to vocalize. Emotions that she now knew were not only felt by her. No, for they were shared. Between they two. Oh how that realization set butterflies loose in both of their stomachs, a feeling which did not fade when finally their lips broke apart, and both exited the now moist air of the copyroom.

Larry: “Good! You’re both here. How many copies did you two have to make, jeesh! So the … uh … person you’re meeting is in the lobby.”

Jennifer: “Who is it?”

Amber: “Why is he in the lobby?”

Larry: “Don’t ask questions. He just is, so you’ll need to use the elevators to head down there.” The computer nerd’s tone, demeanor, and requests were all odd, and caused the two once-warring brunettes to look to one another confused.

Jennifer: “Larry, what the fuck are you talking about? Why won’t you tell us?”

Larry: “I would if I could just… Go down there.” Amber, no less bewildered than her fellow assistant, reached down, and took Jennifer’s hand.

Amber: “Ok, fine. You won’t tell us. Whatever. We’ll go.” With that, the brunettes walked forward, attempting to get onto the same elevator.

Jennifer: “No! I am so … so … sorry about this, but you can’t take the same elevator. Jennifer you have to take the left one, and Amber you take the right one.” The oddly specific commands were out of place and out of character for a man who often found himself unable to even form sentences when they two were around. And yet, apart from drawing scowls from both assistants, both women decided to do what was asked — each taking to their assigned elevator — only letting go of the other’s hand when the doors open and the truth of all that was transpiring was revealed.

Inside each elevator knelt the girl’s assigned brother, each holding out a single black box, which sat opened in their palms, displaying the most exquisite rings either had ever seen. The walls that surrounded them, usually mirrored in pristine polished gold, were covered with pieces of paper that had been taped up, on each was listed a reason why their girlfriends should marry them. Amber and Jennifer, already exhausted, physically and emotionally, stepped forward and into the elevator car, unable to speak or even think.

How? Why? But what about…?

As the questions began to overwhelm and overcome them, the doors shut behind them, and the separate cars began to drop from the 85th floor on down. As they each descended, Austin and Bennett laid out their cases, and as a finale asked, in words both sweet and heartfelt: “Will you marry me?”

Before either could answer, their elevators had reached the now empty lobby of the building, where in unison, all 4 stepped out, each of them waiting with baited breath to hear the responses both would give.

Scared, unsure, and torn, Amber and Jennifer looked to each other, their eyes glistening with tears once again. There they stayed in gaze, each trying to ask the other without words what they should do, and what their confessions in the copy room really meant.

Austin: “Well? Will you?

Bennett: “Yeah, not to rush you two, but … please? Marry us…”

Amber turned her eyes from her former rival, and back to the pair of brothers who waited impatiently for their answers. But as she went to open her mouth, she suddenly felt Jennifer take her hand. The soft, and reassuring touch gave just enough of a pause for it to be followed up by the brunette’s loud and confident voice to ring out.

Jennifer: “On one condition…”

Austin & Bennett: “Anything! What?!” As the two brothers shouted their acceptance of terms they did not even know, Amber looked to her fellow assistant nervously, unsure and scared of what was about to be offered, and what it might mean for her relationship with the woman proposing it.

Jennifer: “If you two want us, then it’s us. And if we want you two, then it’s you two. No matter what the registration says. It’s us. NOT Amber and Austin. NOT Jennifer and Bennett. But the four of us. Together. Forever. No jealousy. No moving away. No separation. We each belong to the other. Until death do us part.” Her words were loud, and forceful. She meant every syllable, and made clear with her tone that she would accept nothing less than a yes from the two billionaire brothers.

Amber: “Agreed. You two take us both, or not at all.” Amber added shortly, as she squeezed Jennifer’s hand, her spirit lifted with equal parts excitement and joy.

Austin: “So, we can have sex with both of you?”

Bennett: “And you two can have sex with each other?”

Amber rolled her eyes before responding: “Yes.”

Jennifer: “Mmm, hmm…”

Austin & Bennett: “Deal…” As the two assented again in unison, Amber and Jennifer collapsed into each other’s arms, losing themselves in an embrace which the brothers soon joined.

From there — from that moment — from that empty lobby, they left. Together, and truly united for the first time. They were off to start their lives. Each having found the love they were after, and love they never knew they wanted.

And though love had conquered hate on that day, and relationship trumped rivalry, each of the brunettes had only just begun their sexual battles to keep the brothers who they had finally captured. But those tales, are for another day.

The End

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To the Last Breath

by Rivals_Rapture

One wave of crystal blue ocean water after another, came rolling in and then without more than the most gentle of landings, rolled out. Each accompanied by no wind – no rain, only the most occasional sounding of bird, and footstep of jogger. Almost empty, the beach on which those waves crashed was, from the first grain of sand, to the last. In fact, for yards in the hundreds, there were only two: Ronaldo and Jasmine, a couple who had sought that particular cove out, not just for its beauty, but also its obscurity-born privacy. In those two expectations, it was perfect. A veritable dreamscape of color and sound, left mostly untouched and unoccupied, as if it had been dug out from rock, and shaped by the maker for they two, and they two alone. Or at least that’s how Jasmine thought of it.

In much the same way she saw every other happening in her life as of late, that moment, and that beach itself, were simply another thread to be woven into a romantic tapestry Jasmine had begun when first she met her precious Ronaldo. He was perfect. Handsome. Fit. Funny. Loving. Kind. All and every. Her soulmate with not a single hesitation. Oh, how she loved him. Her every thought findings itself a mere hop skip and a jump away from their eternity together: children, marriage, retirement, old age. And though those plans ran on endless loop through her mind, she had but one worry. For Ronaldo had been the property of another woman when first they met. And though it took time and effort – guile and daring, Jasmine finally overcame his resistance and hers, in the end wooing her Latino romeo and taking him as her own.

In that victory, however, she began to find only dread. For if he left another for her, how was she to know he would not, in similar fashion, leave she who stole him for any other thief who might come along? Yes, she had all that he wanted: a thick toned ass, large tits, a thin waistline, with perfectly-kept tight-curled hair, but was it enough? Would it always be? No sooner had such thoughts crept back into the caramel-skinned Latina’s mind, than did an unexpected shadow pass before her eyes. There, the figure laid down an oversized beach towel, and lowered herself onto it, not feet from Jasmine and her boo, despite nearly a mile of open beach from which to choose. The figure was a woman’s. A beautiful black woman’s, thick, toned, and busty just like Jasmine’s, hidden only by the most insubstantial of bikinis, covering nipples, and kitten, but not much else. She had placed herself just under, and neatly between the couple, so that were she to scootch herself back up the beach, she would find herself tucked tightly between them.

The gall! The nerve! How dare this bitch! Jasmine had not moved, or spoken, and yet despite her silence, she was enraged. Fuming. There was literally zero chance this girl wasn’t trying to draw the eye of Ronaldo. Why would she place herself so close when they were surrounded by open beach? And why between them? AAarrrggghh! As tempest and tumult swirled and stormed within the brunette, the invading girl began to stretch and pose herself, at angles which would give Ronaldo the best view of her assets. Jasmine in terror looked to her lover, hoping to see him looking at his phone, or resting his eyes, and though it was the latter activity he was undertaking, it was upon the chocolate-skinned doppleganger that his eyes rested. Up and down they traveled her body, taking in every muscle and mound – every crevice and curve, his tongue licking his lips all the while.

It was every one of Jasmine’s nightmares and fears made manifest. The young Latina’s dream moment of relaxation and warmth ruined by some bitch in the middle of nowhere. She wanted to attack! To strike! To release her fury, but she knew not how with Ronaldo there. If a fight broke out, he would break it up, and feel nothing but sympathy for the skank. If she said something, he would in defense deny that she had caught his eye, and try to spin her actions as something else entirely to save his own skin. No, she had to get rid of him, so she could handle this girl alone. But how?

Just as she began to ask herself the question, the black beauty sat up, and stood, using the most intentionally drawn out, and sexual of motions she could. Once vertical, the shaded seductress winked at Renaldo, and began to walk back up the beach towards the small dressing boxes, and vending machines that sat between the beach and the adjacent parking lot. One might think that the girl’s decision to leave would calm Jasmine, but since she left her towel, the Latina knew the respite was only a temporary one, and that after the girl finished whatever she was doing, she would return. One moment passed, then two, as thoughts and plans began to take shape in Jasmine’s mind.

“Honey, I’ll be right back, ok?” The Latina said simply, in the most innocent voice she could muster.”

“Where you goin’, huh?” Asked her companion, confused by the sudden departure of not just one, but now both of the women with whom he occupied the empty span of beach.

“I’m gonna get a drink. You want one?” The brunette responded, finding herself unable to come up with a better explanation as to why she needed to follow after her chocolate doppelgänger.

“Yeah, a Coke. But hurry, this whole lying on a beach thing is your flavor, not mine.” He responded impatiently.

“I’ll be back, don’t worry…Jeez, always so impatient.” She said quickly, as she leaned over and kissed her pouting boyfriend’s forehead. Then, not a moment after her lips left his skin, she burst into a brisk jog, and made her own way back up the beach, to find her new rival. Despite those predatory instincts, however, it was she who was found first.

“Only one of us is going back down there, bitch. You know that, right?” The ebony-skinned girl said bluntly, as she stepped out behind the Latina, whose eyes still scanned the area around the dressing boxes. At the hearing, Jasmine turned around, her blood boiling, and her eyes set afire with rage.

“Just who the fuck do you think you are, puta?” Fired back the curly-haired brunette, slipping in some of her own Spanish flare, as she often did when angered.

“I’m Darrisha, and I’m the girl who’s gonna steal yo man.” The black girl responded, making clear that she had not even a single doubt in her mind, either of the propriety of her intent, or her chances of success.

“!Vete a la mierda puta!” Lost in the brashness of it, Jasmine charged forward, her feet crunching atop the gravel-covered ground, unable to stand hearing another word from the girl who had so boldly proclaimed her own inevitable victory. As the Latina took to closing the distance, Darrisha did too, their equally large breasts slamming together, setting loose a loud slapping sound which echoed through the cove. With their ample chests pressed together, they grabbed for and caught each other’s wrists, each then twisting and bending, trying to wrestle the other for leverage and control. Stumbling together, they each tried using their thick calves and toned thighs to keep themselves upright, as their upper bodies met inch for inch, every muscle stretched and straining against that of their rival. And though each wanted to scream out in rage and effort, they held such cries inside, neither wanting to alert Renaldo to their ongoing struggle.

Pouring their passion into overpowering each other, they locked gazes in a maddening glare, every eye involved filled to the point of glisten with all the hate, intensity, and confidence that either could possibly muster. They both desired desperately to bend and break the other’s body against their own, driven by not only fear of losing the man they wanted, but also frustration at the similarity between their gym-honed bodies. To cause pain is what they wanted. To make the other cry, and submit, so that they could have Ronaldo all to themselves, and know it was they who was the better woman. But as each of the girl’s shoves was met by that of their foe, and every push by one was met by the pull of the other, they two warriors came to the painful and unexpected discovery, as they stumbled there locked together on the gravel-strewn parking lot transition. Specifically that the only victories being scored and losses incurred were those of their breasts, which had become uncovered in their violent struggle, setting loose their thin bikini tops, which came to a dangle down by their stomachs. Glorious, and beautiful items of desire, which had without intention, become weapons, smashing, and compressing those of their rival. Rolling in tides of flesh, areola, and erect nipple, one after another, taking turns, unguided, dominating and being dominated. It was in that unintended contest that both women began to fixate, as their attempts at wrestling the other down met stalemate after stalemate. Then, as if unable to do anything but, their eyes pried themselves away from their mutual hate-and-fire-filled gaze, and instead turned to watch as their double D’s danced with each other, wincing every time their’s seemed to give way, and smirking whenever those of their opponent’s did the same.

Almost without conscious thought did it then happen, that both Jasmine and Darrisha brought their back and forth fighting – their fruitless struggle of hands and arms to a halt, releasing each other’s wrists. They did not let their hands linger unengaged for long however, as each then cinched the other in a tight bearhug, meant to bring their breasts to bear more fully against those of their opponent, turning their attentions to the budding breast battle, which appeared to they two to actually be a method by which they might settle their jealous dispute and to see who truly deserved Ronaldo, or at least one that could be finished before he came looking for them.

To that end they each squeezed and twisted, their eyes firmly affixed to their chests, mesmerized by the sight of such equally sized and shaped tits smashing, and then being smashed, and nipples of such equal length bending and then being bent.

They had not forgotten that they were fighting, mind you, battling for the right to head back to Ronaldo in all of his perfection. In fact, that thought was at the very forefront of their minds – driving each of them to use every muscle in their body to aid and aim, angle and attack. With each thrust they could see it, the benefit of every lean and push on the outcome of every meeting of flesh. Into that contest, their blistering desire to win, and the unwanted feeling of pleasure each began to drift, deeper and deeper, as if into a trance. A state born of the tantric-torture of tit against tit combat, one which cut them off from all sounds, smells, and sights, until finally their focus was broken by the clatter and clamour of the sudden arrival of what seemed to be a veritable caravan of cars, pulling into the beach’s mostly empty parking lot. So loud it was – so violent to their concentration – kids screaming, brakes screeching, and parents yelling over it all for peace and proper procession.

As said scene unfolded, there they stood, chest to chest, stomach to stomach, bikini tops hanging on by only the barest of threads, foreheads pressed together as they gazed down to their battling breasts. They each knew they had to break, had to separate, even though neither wanted nothing more than to continue. And yet, against that carnal and carnivorous desire, they forced themselves to pull apart, catching their falling bikini tops with one hand, and their rival’s free hand with their other. From that awkward space, and not feet from being seen by the cars full of strangers who had arrived which with no more subtly than a bomb exploding in a library, they ran. Their goal was one of the tiny dressing boxes that stood between their near naked bodies, and the parking lot turned zoo. One might easily mistake the dressing boxes for port-o-potty, as they looked almost no different from the outside. Blue rubber/plastic. Moveable from one spot to the other, in that they were not nailed down in any way. But within them sat no toilet or seat of any kind, only space enough for one to stand uncomfortably – meant for beachgoers to use, when they needed to change in and out of their beach attire.

Into said constricting space the two warring beauties scurried, each terrified of not just being caught in their disheveled and unclothed state, and but also of being stopped from waging their woman-to-woman battle, one which both rivals so desperately wanted to continue. Jasmine being the last into the blue box, turned and locked the door, looking out the dressing box’s only vent, a metal device with a handle placed about shoulder level in the door. The box was hot, having sat all day in the sun, baking at the intersection of asphalt, gravel, and beach. It was stuffy, and small. Uncomfortable and suffocating. But such as it was, and such as it wasn’t, it remained their new battleground..

Taking for granted that she would be allowed to do so, the Latina went to turn around, to once again re-engage her rival tit to tit, but found the ebony girl’s breasts suddenly slam into her back, and a hand with no more of a delay, slide around her stomach and into her bikini bottoms. There she was trapped, face and upper body shoved into the rubber door, which began to bend just slightly under the pressure. Jasmine quickly came to realize that despite her efforts, she could not escape in such narrow confines, from a hold applied by such an equal match to her in terms of strength. Knowing and sensing that dilemma, Darrisha’s hand seized, with her middle and ring fingers digging right into the center the brunette’s clit. Jasmine went to scream out in pain, but no sooner did the urge hit, than did the black girl’s free hand seal itself around the Latina’s mouth.

“No, bitch. Don’t scream. Just submit to me.” Darrisha’s voice came in the form of a whisper, her lips not centimeters away from Jasmine’s ear. The instructions elicited no such submission, and served only to drive the Latina to scream louder, and struggle harder, threatening to not only be heard by those persons who had begun walking by the dressing boxes, but also to tip over the poorly secured box in which the women writhed. Finding that her tactic threatened to bring about danger, before victory, the young black girl decided to change tactics, and release her vicious claw of Jasmine’s clit. The cessation of pain slowed Jasmine’s struggle, and silenced her attempts at screaming. In that moment, she tried to gather herself, her body still pressed roughly against the awkwardly bending door of the dressing box. Despite the release of her clit, the Latina continued to try to push off, putting even more pressure on the door, desperate to turn herself and battle her opponent face-to-face. But as she did, Darrisha’s fingers went to work again, this time: lovingly. This time: softly. No longer were they digging or clawing. No, this time they were fingering. The ebony seductress hoping to draw an orgasm from her rival, then another, until finally the Latina would be so exhausted, and spent, that she would be unable to resist when finally Ronaldo became the prey.

Slowly Darrisha went at first. Lightly. Intending to work out any residual anger and adrenaline from the Latina’s gradually calming muscles. For her part, Jasmine kept trying, kept struggling to to push herself off of the door, whilst also trying to resist the feelings of sexual pleasure that began to radiate outward from between her thighs. And though she did so bravely, clinging to not just her love for precious Renaldo, but also her hate for the bitch who had her trapped, she slowly began to succumb to her touch, one moan after another coming from her still palm-smothered mouth.

“That’s right. I’m sorry. Just cum for mama. Just let it go.” As the Ebony girl whispered, she took her hand away from Jasmine’s mouth, and brought it too into the bikini bottoms of her rival, thereafter using all ten of her fingers to massage, stroke, and finger the Latina trapped between her body and the door.

No longer able to resist, Jasmine brought her own hands down from her failed attempts at pushing herself off the door, and instead, without meaning to, began to guide her enemy’s hands to just the right places, and just the right spots. All of that, and such signs only a woman would know, led Darrisha to believe that her victory was imminent, she having worked her foe until she was mere moments of cuming. But just as those orgasmic waves began to build, a voice broke through the moment like a sledge hammer.

“Hello!?” The voice was unfamiliar and prying, no doubt coming from one of the many people who had suddenly descended upon the beach like locusts. “Anyone in there?!” They asked again, just before they ventured to look in through the only air vent on the dressing box, one placed not centimeters away from Jasmine’s sweating and pleasure-etched face. Quickly, the Latina realized what was happening, and what she needed to do. That plan in mind, she again tried to push herself back and away from the door, and though Darrisha wanted nothing more than to keep her rival stuck there, face pressed against the door, she knew that she had to allow space, or both would find themselves caught by this gawking Tom, and his vent peering. That reality known, the black seductress took a single step back, and pulled her tits from Jasmine’s back, just in time for the Latina to reach up and slam the vent closed, doing so forcefully enough to break off the handle to the vent accidentally.

The momentary attempt at cooperation was taken as opportunity by the Hispanic hottie, who now free, pushed herself back again, this time with violence, slamming her body into her ebony rival’s. The blow sent knocked said rival back, until her back unceremoniously crashed into the rear wall of the dressing box. There, momentarily stunned, Darrisha leaned against the featureless wall, until Jasmine turned and slammed her tits against her.

It only took a second for the Latina to strike, acting without a moment of hesitation or single thought of mercy. Then with a similar speed and focus, she went to work, smashing her tits into her enemy’s, wanting to return in-kind every ounce of pain and pleasure forced upon her by her rival. Sweat-covered chest into to sweat-covered chest she rammed, backed up, and rammed again, her arms placed to either side of Darrisha, wanting to keep her trapped and unable to escape, just as had been done to her against the door.

The suddenness of the turn had left the black girl lost in shock and thought, even as she desperately tried to fight back, not only against her caramel rival, but also against her own growing exhaustion and the increasing temperature of the box. At first, she thrust her tits out as before, expecting that they would be as equally matched as they were when they two engaged on the gravel. And yet, despite that expectation, she found that being pinned against the wall limited her ability to not only match press for press, but also to maneuver her tits into better angles. That discovery, that belief, real or not, robbed the young black girl of her confidence and fire, resulting in her pushes being made with less and less effort, having allowed herself to turn her attention to hope of escape, rather than victory, and the allowance of slight moans to escape her lips unrestrained. Despite the obviousness of Darrisha’s fading resistance, and her inability to fight back as before, Jasmine continued harshly, smashing her breasts against her rival’s time and time again, slowing her pace only to whisper into her enemy’s ear.

“Puta de mierda.” “Mis tetas son mejores” Jasmine’s momentary superiority was unquestionable, a point made clear when both women began to realize that on every meeting of their erect nipples, Darrisha’s were being pushed back entirely into her own body by Jasmine’s. The Latina was driven by the sight of such utter sexual dominance to slow her presses, making sure that black seductress watched in horror as her seemingly rock-hard nipples were inverted. The gambit was made less to drag a submission from her opponent, and more to torture her – to impress upon her the strength of Jasmine’s tits, scenario-dependant or not. And though that was the intent behind her slowing, it merely had the illusion of choice, as she was slowing – weakening. For it was too hot. Too hard to breathe. The oppressiveness of the sun-baked box was beginning to overwhelm her, even now in her moment of victory. And though she could feel her energy quickly sapping, she continued to fight through that exhaustion and building sweat – slowly bludgeoning her opponent’s breasts – clinging to the hope that her ebony rival would soon give in…

“Te estoy … rompiendo … perra.” Jasmine taunted in a broken and near-breathless voice, feeling as if her opponent was about to completely give way beneath her. The taunt, meant to convey strength, betrayed the opposite to Darrisha, who in it discovered the effect that the heat and lack of air had begun to have on her opponent. Such a revelation provided to the chocolate doppleganger some hope of eventual escape and reprisal. Despite that momentary glimmer, however, the busty black girl found herself far more worried about not only the deep aching she felt in her overwhelmed and battered tits, but also the angle at which she began to slide down the wall of the dressing box. From those realities the brazen seductress realized that she could no longer push her chest up or outward, or take much more of the pain that she suffered with every moment of tit-to-tit contact with her foe. Such dilemmas left her with two options: escape the hold by any method she could, or submit, thereby conceding the superiority of her Latina rival. Desperate, Darrisha did the only thing she could think of, thrusting her still bikini-bottom-covered womanhood out and up, slamming it into Jasmine’s.

“Fuck fight me … bitch…” Darrisha spat through her exhaustion, before again thrusting her sweat-covered womanhood into her opponent’s, each such attempt having the result of the girl’s chocolate-covered body sliding further down the rubber wall of the dressing box, and deeper into the Latina’s breast to breast press. A press the Latina refused to break, and a challenge she refused to accept, knowing that she had only moments left before fatigue took her, and that by which time she either needed to have defeated her enemy, or risk passing out atop her. With those dwindling grains of sand in mind, Jasmine let herself drop to her knees into a straddle of her opponent. A drop which sent her upper body slamming down into Darrisha’s with violence, the latter being firmly stuck beneath the Latina, in a terribly painful position. To her credit, the black seductress continued her futile attempts at engaging Jasmine’s sex, but within only a few pain-filled moments, found herself at the point of breaking.

“Submit, bitch! ¡Ríndete!” Without even waiting for a reply, the Latina pulled her body up, a move met with a loud sucking sound as the two women’s sweat-covered bodies separated, and then slammed it back down, crashing her tits against those of her enemy’s. So much pain the maneuver caused, that the young black girl bent forward and sunk her teeth into the sweaty caramel-covered skin of Jasmine’s neck, not hard enough to cause pain, but with just enough force to keep her from pulling back for another devastating blow. The bite worked, in that it kept the Latina, in her completely exhausted form, from pulling back, but it served as a signal that she who so willingly resorted to such a tactic was only moments away from submission. With that knowledge as fire and fuel, Jasmine took both hands, no longer needed to keep Darrisha pinned, and violently grabbed at the her tits. Then, while she squeezed and mashed at the sore and bruised breasts of her rival from the sides, the Latina continued her onslaught, rubbing her own un-wounded tits at their front. As if such torture was not enough, Jasmine made a point to drive her erect nipples into those of her victim, driving them back into her body again and again, the beautiful or terrifying sight of it only clouded as sweat began to drip into both of their fatigue-glazed eyes. The violent and vicious attacks finally forced the proud black girl to release her holding bite, and whimper:

“I give … please … please stop…” The plea of submission did indeed bring an end to Jasmine’s attack, who released her hands from her defeated rival’s broken tits, placing them instead on her shoulders, as she pushed herself up from her upper body lean. There she sat, saying nothing at first, instead simply gazing into the eyes of her battered opponent, their combined sweat pooling together at the meeting of their straddled position. Their eyes spoke of so many emotions: hate; weariness; appreciation; jealousy; regret. And though all of that was conveyed and understood, without even a further word being said, Jasmine still needed to hear it.

“Tell me Ronaldo is mine.” Because the words had been spoken, without their mutual gaze being broken, Jasmine was able to see the pain the command stirred in Darrisha, who laid defeated beneath her, and the internal struggle that took place within her as she mustered the courage to speak.

“He’s yours… I’m sorry. I … I shouldn’t have tried to take him from you.” The words, as soft and as remorseful as they were, were all Jasmine needed to hear before she stood up from her straddle, and turned to the door. Then, after fixing her bikini top, she reached for the lock on the door, expecting to simply open it and head back to Ronaldo, the man she had kept through her victory. And though that was her expectation, it was not her reality, as her effort-weakened fingers found the door, through all of the pressure put on it earlier, was broken, and the lock unwilling to budge. Her calm, pleased demeanor quickly gave way to panic, as she realized that she and her defeated rival might be stuck together in the incredibly hot dressing box, with little to no air. It made sense, the door having been so mistreated, when Darrisha had pressed Jasmine into it with all of her might, forcing it to bend and warp, beneath the weight of the Latina’s tits. As that explanation took shape in her mind, and after she had given up on freeing the handle, Jasmine reached up to the vent, trying to pry it open, despite the state of its handle, which she had broken off earlier in an attempt to keep their war hidden.

Meanwhile, as the Latina struggled to earn them both escape and oxygen, Darrisha eyes watched, running up and down the body of the woman who had bested her. Every similarity. Every mirrored curve. And the thought that a body so incredibly alike to her own had beaten her, began to turn her wounded heart cold, and her failed reserve replenished. She could have won. She should have won. If only Jasmine had been willing to accept her challenge to a fuck fight. She stole her victory! She was not the better woman! Ronaldo or no, the young seductress could not stomach the thought have been beaten. Not when their womanhoods had not yet fully tasted of one another. With those desires and denials driving her mad, and as Jasmine began to pay less and less attention to her, Darrisha scootched to the side unnoticed, and then reached up from the sweat-and-sand-covered floor of the dressing box, and yanked her rival back into the fray.

Jasmine, still beside herself with panic and confusion – having completely written off the chance of further conflict, did not respond in time, within a blink finding herself sitting face to face with her ebony rival, the broken and stuck door to the box to their left. Despite her eyes growing wide with shock, the Latina did not even have an opportunity say a word, before her now resurgent opponent had placed them into a sitting scissor position, with left leg under right, and vice versa.

“What are you doing!? I beat you!” Jasmine spurt out, unsure what was going on, or why her seemingly-bested enemy was unconcerned about the state of the door, or the temperature within the box, though she left such concerns unsaid.”

“You beat me for Ronaldo, and this isn’t about him.” Darrisha explained as she reached down and moved aside her thin bikini bottoms, just as she thrust her sex forward, slamming it into her rival’s still-covered cunt.

“But the door!?” Jasmine responded, still without a counter attack. “We’re going to suffocate in here!”

“Then I’ll die having proven that my body is better than yours!” Again with her statement came a thrust, this time letting it linger on contact, rubbing her clit against the Latina’s, trying to coax and entice her into a response.

“Ok, fine! I’ll fuck fight you, puta, but you have to help me with the door!” Even with her terms came no return, even as she could feel the black girl’s clit rub against hers.

“Deal!” Seeing the sense in it, and desperate to earn her rival’s participation, Darrisha reached left left hand up to the door’s lock, where it met Jasmine’s, each girl trying to pull and bend the lock open once again. It was at that moment, that the Latina finally fought back, using her free hand to move her own bottoms to the side, before matching her rival’s lusty slow clit grind with one of her own. The feeling of their womanhoods finally coming together, unencumbered and mutual in engagement, caused both women to release wild and impassioned moans. But just as they began to fully begin their conflict anew, the oppressive heat and lack of oxygen took to them again, robbing them of their energy and stamina. It was in that state that they battled, unable to muster full thrusts or slams, instead relegated to slow grinding, and fencing, using the most minute of movements to inflict pleasure upon one another. And yet, even that less exhausting form of trib began to drain them, as each woman tried desperately to gain enough air to continue, gasping between every moan, and struggling to pull the lock open between every shudder of pleasure. Sweat began to pour more heavily now than ever from each, with a pool of it covering almost the entirety of the floor beneath them, as the temperature in the box grew and grew, now reaching well over 110.

The fatigue they felt, and the suffocation that began to take both, did nothing but intensify the feelings of pleasure welling within them, as each knew that this battle, and whatever orgasms might be drawn might be the last acts taken by they two. In that hopelessness, they ground against one another, dodging and parrying, stabbing and sliding with their clits, their eyes beset by the stinging pain of dripping sweat and their lungs burning from a deadly lack of oxygen. Finally, they each without conscious thought gave into it, dropping their hands from the lock, which neither had even budged in their half-focused attempts, instead using them and their free hands to pull themselves closer to one another, as they set to pouring out their last ounces of effort. Effort which they released upon one another, as they lined up their clits for one final time, and pressed. It was glorious. It was incredible. And though it was close, closer than either would have wanted or expected, Jasmine released first, not a blink before Darrisha, both women orgasming wildly, their bodies shuddering and shaking as the blackness took them, their minds drifting together off into heat, exhaustion, and suffocation born unconsciousness.

Suddenly Jasmine awoke, as their felt her body being drug out from the dressing box, and heard the sweet and concerned voice of Ronaldo, calling her name.

“Jasmine? Nena? Are you ok? Qué ha pasado?” As Jasmine opened her eyes, she saw him kneeling above her, and Darrisha slowly waking at her side, as each laid in the gravel outside the box.

“Take us home, Ronaldo.” The Latina sputtered out, coughing, only barely able to think given her state.

“Both of you? To our house?” Ronaldo asked, confused and unsure of what she meant.

“Yes…” As she whispered her response, she used a hand to find and take Darrisha’s, who did just the same, both girls clinging to one another in their broken, scared, and nearly dead state.

As they slowly recovered, Ronaldo did as he was told, wrapping both women in beach towels, before loading them into the backseat of his car. And though he said nothing, and asked less from that point on, he would from time to time take a look into his rear view mirror, and find both his girl, and the girl who tried to seduce him leaning against one another in a shaking heap, their tongues dancing in each other’s mouths. The sight brought a smile to his face, and a few more pounds of lead to his foot, as he gleefully drove the unlikely pairing home.

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When a Sister can Watch No More

by Rivals_Rapture

Jessica had watched her sister-in-law abuse her brother for years – verbally, emotionally, and even at times sexually. In a way, despite being John’s sister, Jessica couldn’t blame Ellery. John was weak-willed, and unwilling to defend himself. Not only that, but Ellery was an absolute powerhouse of sexual might – her breasts were huge, her body well-proportioned, and her ass with just the right amount of jiggle. That being said, and despite the understanding, Jessica couldn’t just stand by, and watch as her brother was subjugated and oppressed, even by a woman so worthy of undertaking such actions. And so she planned, and waited, until Christmas, and the boys of the family left for their yearly football game – a moment when all that would be left in the house was the women.

On that early morning, when all the men had left, and all the women still slept, Jessica crawled into Ellery’s bed, pulled off the covers, and positioned herself behind the woman she intended to tame. Slowly, she lowered her hand down the body of her familial rival, and with the most subtle of motions, brought it under and into Ellery’s panties, and to bear against her sister-in-law’s waiting clit and pussy. Jessica’s hope was that her brother’s wife would slowly rouse, and be so shocked by the sudden engagement, that she would simply lie there and allow herself to be dominated – fighting back only when it was already too late.

Despite that plan, and even the possible soundness of it, Ellery was only pretending to react in the way her rival expected. For in fact, she was ready. She had sensed it. The growing boldness in Jessica. Catching the glares at the dinner table, and the wincing whenever precious brother was insulted. And so she too formulated a plan. One that involved her waiting for Jessica to attack, allowing her to do her worst, and then once her best had been exhausted, to counter attack. And so like a fly into a spiderweb, the loyal sister fingered Ellery slowly, gently, not wanting to arouse the dominating spirit of her enemy. That paucity of passion gave the busty blonde exactly what she wanted, a meek, drawn out attack, which would allow for her to play the role of expectant submissive, just long enough for Jessica to gain enough confidence to stay engaged when the moment of rebellion occurred.

Ellery could feel a powerful orgasm building within her, and so she went to turn, both the tables and her body, so she could take control of her husband’s sister, but as she made that attempt she found herself stuck. With thighs wrapped around her abdomen, and a firm hand squeezing at one of her massive tits. She had made a classic mistake, assuming sexual strength equated to physical strength, and that her own carnal prowess meant that she could overpower her opponent when ever she pleased. Such was not the case, as Jessica was stronger, faster, and had been trained in both wrestling and jujitsu, and so she held firm, as her fingers worked, draining Ellery’s strength, concentration, and bringing her closer and closer to an quickly approaching orgasm. The realization that she had so mistook her position, and the mishandled the fight for sexual domination caused her to cry out:

Ellery: “NOoOoOoOOOOooOo!” Doing so just as she came, gushing her sweet juices all over her sister-in-law’s expertly utilized fingers, without thinking of the consequences. Consequences which surfaced only a moment later as every woman in the family, who had woken since the start of the long battle of attrition, rushed into the room.

In the doorway they stood, 7 of John’s sisters and cousins, shocked to find the bitch of the family, a woman known for being not only powerful, but demeaning and rude, spent and spurting on the fingers of Jessica, one of the nicest and least aggressive sisters.

Shamed and embarrassed, Ellery again tried to escape from her tormentor’s grasp, but found herself held still. Knowing that the moment for complete domination was at hand. Jessica extended her legs, wrapped them around her rival’s, and pulled open closing thighs, so that all could see how wet Ellery;s panties were, and how her pussy’s quivering could be seen even though the silk of them.

Jessica: “Kiss me.” John’s sister demanded. “KISS ME!” She shouted, as a final command to her sister-in-law – a last humiliation, as the women of the family continued to watch.

Reluctantly, Ellery leaned her head back and kissed her new oppressor. But as lips came to touch lips, Jessica began to probe and slide her fingers once again, forcing another devastating orgasm from the now completely spent strawberry blonde, who collapsed back into her rival’s arms. But that rest was short-lived, as Jessica grabbed Ellery’s hair, and threw her face first down to the bed, thereafter Jessica raised herself up, away, and off of the bed.

Meanwhile, all those who had entered the room to check on the screaming Ellery had stayed, each of them now standing flush-faced, confused, and yet joyous after having seen what had just transpired.

Jessica, enjoying the looks on their faces, walked to the gathering confidently, before moving past them and shouting back:

Jessica: “You’re making breakfast, Ellery, get to it!”

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