Mila crossed her legs. Her sheer stockings slid over each other and gave a static shock. She flinched, but also enjoyed the sensation.
Her thick panties, her protective bra, revealed enough. Well, not enough for Mila’s liking. Her ample breasts were tucked snuggly, so snuggly that they did not sway when she walked, and they were so covered that she might as well been wearing a sports bra.
Her panties, as well. Thick, a bit riding, and secure.
Her garments were secure, save her staticky stockings, and while they aided her in patrolling the castle, they left far too much of her body to the imagination.
The doorknob turned. Mila snapped out of her trance. This room, much as any other commoner’s, was sparse. Wooden walls without paint, a broken window letting in the elements, a horseshoe dangling from a nail on the wall.
Typical. Mila rolled her eyes.
The door began to open, slowly at first until Zoey was in complete view. Mila sighed.
She hardly knew Zoey, apart from being, well, common. This shack could have been hers, and Mila would not have been surprised.
However, it was not. Rather, it was lent for today’s cordial by a beady-eyed hag, who probably wanted a piece of the spoils.
There was something, still, unique about Zoey. Mila noticed this as the low country girl stepped in. Zoey nodded her head and came to shake hands.
“Thank you for comin’!” Her blues eyes lit up. Her voice was rural. Blatantly a farmer’s daughter. Her dirty blonde hair ran to her mid back, which was part of a slim figure.
“Don’t mention it.” Mila halfheartedly shook Zoey’s hand.
Before Mila had time to say anything else, Zoey started undressing.
To which, Mila was surprised.
Zoey’s figure was surprisingly toned. Her breasts were just enough for handfuls, supple like bread dough, and tipped with dark pink nipples.
Her farm-tanned skin, which was dented by sunspots and small scars, and a triangle birth mark above her right ass cheek, glowed healthily; her shaded abs contrasted this.
But her ass. Mila caught herself licking her lips.
It was the product of manual labor. Years of it. Years of swinging a pitch axe and hoe, years of bending over and picking up. Whatever the gods gave her, she sculpted to tantalizing perfection.
Mila wanted to slap or bounce coins off Zoey’s ass… until the farm girl turned around and smiled.
Mila shook herself back to the current moment and squinted.
“That’s not how this works.”
Zoey frowned. “Oh… I’m sorry, should I get dressed?” A shade of blush barely made it through her tan cheeks.
Mila shrugged. “Up to you. I don’t–“
“No, stay naked. Slut.”
The voice was cutting, yet reserved. Gloria stood in the doorway, sizing her opponent up.
Now Mila was excited. She crossed her legs the other direction and shifted on her stool. This might be a good match.
Gloria was born, raised, and simply was, beautiful. Her dark hair, somewhere between walnut and mahogany, was only outdone by her eyes. Sometimes.
They always saw the room first, took everything in. Then the person. Gloria predatorily looked her opponents up and down, seeing beyond size and bust but also muscle and tension and fatigue.
Then Gloria saw the soul. Her dark eyes read a girl’s fear (and pleasure) like a book.
Mila never saw Gloria’s full matches. She only heard the rumors and caught the end, where Gloria’s opponents were crumpled on the floor. Sobbing. Or begging for more. Or both.
Gloria stepped into the room. She had black silk on, that she let slip off and fall to the floor.
It was comically out of place there. The floor was cold cobblestone. It had been brushed of hay and mud, but it was far from clean.
And definitely not where hundred coin silk belonged.
Gloria stepped out of it and began undoing her bra straps.
Mila was throbbing. Her heart, her clit, her mind, throbbing. As Gloria undressed, all Mila could fixate on was the purity.
Whether it was because she was born rich, or had proper care and nourishment, Gloria’s skin was pure.
Fair, clear, and unblemished. It was smooth and made Mila’s mouth water.
And it fit her curves, which were more and more revealed as Gloria undid her bra and panties.
Round breasts that Mila wanted to twist, and knew would bounce right back. Light brown nipples, button nipples, and a slender body that deceptively curved like a vase.
Mila uncrossed her legs.
That is when she noticed it.
Zoey was… either brave or oblivious. Mila knew the two could go together, and even be related, but in the face of Gloria, how could Zoey not be intimidated.
Or just jaw dropped.
Instead, Zoey had a dumb grin.
“Glad you made it from your tower. Didn’t trip over your servants?”
Gloria did not respond. She looked Zoey up and down again. The farm girl was shamefully hidden under baggy work clothes. The drab and tough Şerifali Escort fabrics were probably hell on skin.
Then again, Gloria thought, the farm girl might be more immune to pleasure that way.
Gloria also noticed Zoey’s ass. It was, handedly, better.
Gloria surmised her own rear, which was nothing to scoff at. It was trim. It was athletic, but also leaned to the tinier side.
Zoey’s ass was built for long fights, however. The smooth shape that came from hard earned muscle, and innate genetics that made every pair of pants a little too difficult to button, would have reserves of strength and endurance.
Gloria would lose grappling. She decided then and there.
Mila coughed to break the tension. “Well, this is not how things go. Typically.”
Zoey, whose smile faded, and Gloria stared at each other.
“This is still a cordial match of two consenting parties. I, as castle patrol, shall mediate this match until a fair and…” Mila could not stop ogling both girls. Zoey’s ass. Gloria’s breasts. “…dominant girl is found.”
Mila swallowed and retrieved two vials from her satchel.
“You both shall drink the elixir, state your griefs, and await my instruction. Am I understood?”
The girls did not stop looking at each other.
“Am. I. Under. Stood.?” Mila’s voice became cold and professional. Attractive as today’s contestants were, Mila was castle patrol. She had a job to do.
The girls turned to Mila and accepted the elixirs. After some coughing from the bitter liquid, Mila nodded towards Gloria: “State your grief.”
Gloria did not say anything at first. She let the wind whistling through the broken window, and creaking door hinges behind her, speak first.
And her nipples hardening. Both girls became visibly aroused as the elixir worked further down. Their eyes widened and there was agitation in their stance, as Mila thought she noticed thin wetness on both their crotches.
“Respect.” Gloria finally said. “This farmer humiliated me.”
Mila saw something she never would have guessed in all the Ravenous One’s domain.
Just the smallest hint of pink shaded Gloria’s cheeks until she caught it and returned to cold and calculating.
“This farmer does not know her place. After throwing wine in my face, I will make sure she knows the difference between commoner and elite. Between farmhand and scholar.”
Mila nodded then turned to Zoey. “Your turn.”
Zoey shrugged. “Prissy bitch over here pretty much summed it up. I threw her wine in her face cause she was mouthing off like she owned the place.”
Gloria quietly muttered, “I do own the place.”
All the girls stopped and looked at each other until Mila spoke.
“If you two still contest your griefs, I shall present you with acceptable penance offerings.”
Hesitantly, Zoey and Gloria looked at each other and gave near imperceptible nods.
“Then the stakes are bedmates. Conditionally. For two days.” Mila sat down and crossed her legs. “And public knowledge of the winner. Is this still…” Mila leaned forward. “Acceptable?”
She knew Zoey would not care but Gloria had to. The last part was her greatest risk. If she lost, the people would know. Not only her persona, but her status would be shattered.
The two contestants nodded again. Gloria did her best to conceal her anxiety about the stakes. And to her credit, she did.
Being bedmates with Zoey, a filthy commoner. But not just a filthy commoner. Her. It just had to be this bizarre farmgirl from nowhere who had to have a temper and had to know how to catfight and… had to be dripping with sex.
Gloria let her mind wander just a bit. She knew it was the elixir working, and she knew Zoey was doing the same. In the quiet moments before Mila would drop a red handkerchief, both girls were glassy eyed and imagining winning. How good it would feel to toy with the other girl. To make her scream and shiver from pleasure.
How good it would feel to nip at her nipples, then just bite down all together.
Or the toys, and the ropes, and keeping her locked up. Or simply just edge her. Make her want an orgasm from the better woman. Make her beg with pleading eyes, and pleading eyes alone, because her mouth would be full with…
As if Catalina, the goddess herself, intervened, both girls realized it at the same time:
How bad it would feel to lose.
Mila dropped the red handkerchief and the match was underway.
Both contestants locked hands, and Zoey immediately took the advantage. Her ass puffed outward, and the musculature in her shoulders tensed. Gradually, Gloria took steps back. Her arms were straining, and her breasts already jiggled up and down from her heavy breaths.
Another step, shit. Gloria tried to pull her fingers out of Zoey’s grip to no avail.
The farmgirl smiled. “Now where was all that good talk from a minute ago, huh?” Zoey’s eyes widened. Her nostrils flared as İstanbul Escort she forced Gloria to give ground.
Gloria knew this was a losing battle. Zoey had maybe fifteen extra pounds of country muscle on her, and it did not even look like she broke a sweat. This was a battle of brute force, grinding girl against girl, and now tit against tit as the two clashed. Gloria initiated the fully body contact. She knew her tits were better, more cushion.
It worked. Zoey bore into it fully.
“Breakin’ a sweat already? Damn.” Zoey whispered in Gloria’s ear.
The close contact sent shivers, and Gloria’s nipples stiffened further; they were sore from the constant rubbing. Her own ass was tiring from Zoey’s constant pressure. Her womanhood was becoming strangely wet from it, especially when a misplaced thigh would bump into it.
Gloria’s plan worked.
Before Zoey had time to grind nipples again, which was ecstasy due to Gloria’s pained expressions, she was plummeting to the floor.
Before she had time to push herself up, there was a weight on her back, then slender fingers in her hair.
Gloria took in a deep breath and yanked Zoey’s blonde hair. She yanked until out of breath and the farmgirl was screaming.
“Let go, rich bitch!”
“Gah! I’ll put my foot right up your ass!”
Gloria learned from several matches that threats were intimidating, but silence bred uncertainty and uncertainty was fear.
Zoey was clasping Gloria’s wrists to free her hair. Once again–Gloria’s plan worked.
Zoey was in no position to push back up; she was both occupied and distracted, and it was time for Gloria to begin the end of the match. Using Zoey’s firm grip as an anchor, Gloria stopped pulling hair, and pushed. She pushed Zoey’s face into the stone floor.
Tears welled in Zoey’s eyes as blood rushed to her cheek.
“Stop, dammit!” Spit flew from her mouth as she screamed. But it was not just her face.
Her breasts were compressed and bulging outwards; blue veins were visible beneath her tan skin as the porous cobblestone floor grated her nipples.
She was furious. She was desperate. She was extremely wet.
Gloria first noticed, and it is questionable if Zoey ever did notice her own subconscious humping of the floor. It started subtle. Just a tap or bump. Eventually, it was soft grinding. Gloria first thought Zoey was trying to grind her way out of this from the bottom. In truth, it was divine.
Gloria left streaks of her nectar on Zoey’s tan skin. The grinding, despite meant for the floor, made something bubble up in Gloria.
Still, this was one sided. Gloria furthered this by removing one hand to pinch the side of Zoey’s breast; she took the skin and rolled it between her fingers until red.
Zoey bucked immediately, almost throwing Gloria off, but fell back down, more tired and defeated than before. Pressure bent her skull, the floor grated her nipples, Gloria worked the sides of her breast, and…
Zoey’s eyes widened. Yes. She was incredibly horny. The floor directly beneath her crotch was damp as she had continually humped it for the past minute. Its only getting worse.
She had never been so horny. Every nerve ending in her was on fire. She needed it, she needed Gloria to press her face twice as hard, to pinch her breasts until they scarred and slap her ass until it was red.
Her body yearned for more pressure.
More bending until something broke.
Zoey flailed. She was not screaming, she moaned. Load and uncontrollably until she was out of breath; she rammed her pelvis into the floor. The sensation of the floor scratching her entire body, of her heated rival on her back, of… warm streaks also on her back?
Whether it was intentional or not, Zoey’s constant grinding had made Gloria gushing. Not only did she struggle to keep pressure on Zoey’s head, she had stopped pinching the farmgirl’s breasts and could hardly keep balance between the humping and her own lust.
Zoey summoned every ounce of muscle in her glorious ass and stood. Gloria tried to push down at first, which became an effort to hold on, which became an effort to step away as Zoey slid out and stood back up.
All three efforts failed. Nothing brings vigor like the brink of death or orgasm, and Zoey was still at the brink. Gloria felt strong hands grab her breasts and squish.
Gloria shrieked. As a bonus, her dark hair covered her face so she could barely see. Zoey did not care.
She compressed Gloria’s breasts until they bulged out from between her fingers, red and inflamed. Zoey squeezed until the nipple of the left breast popped out from beneath her palm. Zoey could not contain herself (nor should she have).
She hunched over.
All Gloria felt was a warm breath, then crunch. Zoey bit down on the nipple, like a berry, and tugged back.
Gloria’s legs went weak, the only thing keeping her up was the grip Zoey had on her nipple Ümraniye Escort and breasts.
To add insult, Zoey began working her tongue in small circles on the tip of Gloria’s nipple.
The brunette beauty could not take it. Her knees gave. She could only save herself by falling into Zoey, as if she were desperately hugging. Zoey obliged.
She let go of Gloria’s nipple and breasts and switched to a bear hug. Gloria, in a daze, barely knew she had been hoisted in the air and was plummeting down.
The two crashed into the ground, Gloria taking both the fall and Zoey’s weight.
She groaned. Her arms and legs could not move, her lungs could not pull in air, and the blow to her head mixed with the horniness between her legs until she could not see straight.
Mila got off the stool. “Do you yield, Lady Gloria?”
Zoey pinched the maimed nipple and began rolling it. “Better give, bitch.” She sneered.
Gloria tried to roll out of it but was immediately (and easily) pinned back down. Zoey slapped her. “GIVE.”
Gloria did not try to roll again. She did not even try to remove the hand that tugged and rolled her nipple. She was a plaything, laying there.
She did not even move when Zoey inserted three fingers into her womanhood.
“I aint gonna be gentle with ya, hun.” Zoey began stretching Gloria’s hole to fit a fourth finger.
And all Gloria could do was lie there. Still. Not broken, but frozen. Her nipple in searing pain, her womanhood radiating pleasure through her entire body until goosebumps popped.
Zoey did not stop.
Mila got to one knee. “Lady Gloria, if Zoey forces an orgasm, she will be the victor… Do you give?”
Mila hardly believed the words she was saying. Gloria, the brunette dominatrix who read, dismantled, and devoured other champions was nothing more than a wet rag on the floor. Zoey was merciless. Sweat glistened off her body as every muscle filled with blood. She was exquisite, forcibly removing an orgasm from Gloria who did not even have the honor to give. Or speak.
Gloria could merely take it. She was nearing her cracking point. Zoey was already covered in Gloria’s nectar, her fingers had begun to prune as the slish and slosh got louder. Gloria could barely hold her cum in. She was sore and dazed and… counting.
Gloria did not say a word. She did not even move. Instead, she counted. She counted the rhythm of Zoey’s fingers. One, two, three. One, two, three.
Each pump brought her to the brim. She could feel every vessel of her southern lips swell, and cum escape out. She inhaled, desperately trying to distract herself from the burning need to release. She was so close, her legs twitched, her heart was between her ears, and Zoey kept going.
One, two, three. Her womanhood was screaming to let go. To take the bondage and just let go.
One, two… three. There. Gloria’s plan was working.
Zoey had spent so much energy getting up, in the bear hug, and forcibly fingering. In a bizarre case of irony, now her nectar covered Gloria’s stomach, making it slippery.
One… two… three.
Gloria had to move. In two more pumps, she would explode. Zoey had to be tired enough to budge. Had to be.
Gloria summoned every ounce of remaining energy. She bucked her hips first, throwing Zoey forward; Zoey flailed for a moment before realizing what happened and planted her hands to the floor. She was still on top of Gloria, albeit her crotch was on Gloria’s mouth–perfect.
Gloria twisted her legs to give Zoey an extra obstacle to her womanhood. Even if it was a few seconds of handfighting before Zoey pried Gloria’s legs open, those were seconds Gloria recovered.
And seconds Zoey was eaten out.
Gloria extended her tongue and began the alphabet. Zoey’s back arched instantly. She looked at the ceiling and gritted her teeth.
The elixir put both girls in overdrive. Both girls were incredibly horny, and both hung off cliff’s edge.
Zoey struggled to reach behind through waves of electrifying pleasure. She found Gloria’s womanhood guarded by crossed thighs.
“Coward!” She cursed.
E… F… Gloria’s tongue silently swirled. Nectar spilled from Zoey. G…
Gloria was also exhausted, however. She could only keep her thighs locked for so long until Zoey dug a way in.
A jolt of warmth and pain shot up Gloria. Her tongue stuttered, but she persisted.
One… two… three…
Mila watched in disbelief. She had not taken the elixir. Still, her thick panties were damp from excitement. Zoey, a fresh face from the fields, did not just hold her own. She had Gloria on the ropes. Both girls, slicked in sweat, muscles giving out, womanhoods pushed to the limit’s edge, were moaning and fiercely competing.
One… two… three…
Gloria could not take it. Her vulva, her clit, her insides were slicked and fever hot. Zoey managed to force a fourth finger in and was working on the fifth. Gloria’s southern lips had been twisted, stretched, and were quivering; she needed to release. Her orgasm was at peak. Her breasts were full with fluid and though she tried to fight the arching of her back, she could not.