On the night before the full moon Amelia Turner felt very unsettled and lay tossing and turning in bed for hours before finally falling into a fitful sleep some time before the dawn. After her heavy eyelids finally closed shut she found herself mysteriously transported to a hot, sunny clime far removed from the chill, autumn land she had fallen asleep in.
Amelia was standing on a gently sloping hillside among olive trees, the warm rays of the summer sun caressed her bare back, breathing in the rich fragrance of wild thyme and listening to the buzzing of huge bumblebees as they made their way lazily from flower to flower. In the distance she could see a temple-like structure where people were gathering, and she decided to make her way down the hill towards it.
As she drew closer, Amelia saw that the building was indeed some kind of temple, built of marble and stone, with a red-tiled roof, fronted by a portico of impressive, tall columns carved in an obscure, but possibly classical Greek style. Out in front stood a raised platform, or dais, on which two gilded thrones were positioned, side by side. A striking middle-aged woman with auburn hair sat on the throne to the left. Clothed in a simple yet regal-looking turquoise chemise and lace-up gold sandals, she looked both wise and formidable, a plain gold circlet resting above her greying temples denoting her queenly rank.
The alert looking woman sitting on the throne next to the first queen also wore a plain gold crown and was perhaps ten years younger; her deep-cut white chemise showed off her womanly curves while contrasting strikingly with her smooth, ebony skin. The two queens were each attended by half a dozen courtiers as well as a gaggle of priestesses and functionaries who stood a respectful two paces behind them. Reacting to an already surreal dreamscape, Amelia quickly became convinced that both women were Amazon queens and wondered what was about to take place.
If the queens and their courtiers were aware of Amelia’s presence none of them paid her the slightest bit of notice and as she was level with the dais she decided to stay and watch the unusual scene for a while. Feeling the grass tickling her naked behind as she sat down, Amelia now noticed that a wide chalk circle had been marked out on the clay directly in front of her. She would be enjoying a ringside seat for whatever was coming next, she told herself happily.
Before long, two naked young women in their late teens or early twenties emerged from inside the temple precincts and walked down the steps to stand on the field and salute the queens. As the salutes were graciously acknowledged, a woman dressed in the robes of a priestess stood up and began a lengthy proclamation in a language unfamiliar to Amelia. While all this was going on she took the opportunity to study the two newcomers who were standing to attention in front of the dais, their oiled, splendidly naked bodies gleaming in the brilliant sunlight.
Both women were tall and had the unmistakable build of warriors: broad of shoulder with well-formed biceps; their flat, sculptured waists tapered beneath ample, shapely breasts before broadening out into full, curvaceous hips atop sturdy thighs. Amelia noted in fascination that each woman’s mons protruded quite markedly and was covered in dense pubic hair that, as well as signifying her underlying feminine strength, seemed to pose a clear sexual challenge to her opponent.
The warrior standing in front of the throne on the left was a statuesque redhead whose luminous alabaster complexion was offset by startling bursts of red freckles. What really drew Amelia’s attention, however, were the extensive blue tattoos snaking down her arms and belly depicting what appeared to be scenes of war and carnage involving warrior goddesses and sea serpents. This woman wore her long, tousled hair bound in a ponytail that reached all the way down her broad, naked back to her fleshy buttocks. Wow – I’ve never seen a proper woad-painted Celtic warrior in the flesh before! Amelia smiled to herself as her eyes lingered on the woman’s hairy, unkempt russet-coloured bush.
By contrast, the woman on the right equally as tall and striking as her opponent was African, perhaps even Nubian Amelia guessed correctly: an ebony-skinned warrior. This one’s dark, curly hair was arranged in intricate, weighted braids which fell loosely around her shoulders, swinging freely whenever she turned her head. Although she bore no ink tattoos, the Nubian’s arms and upper body were extensively patterned with raised whorls, suns and crescent moons – a dramatic effect achieved through deliberate scarring so that patterns were left clearly visible in the lighter pigment of the scar tissue.
Amelia had read years ago that scarification was a common ceremonial technique used by some African tribes to accentuate a warrior’s courage and a woman’s beauty. In such societies the amount of scarring on a person’s body correlates directly with their perceived strength and how respected they would be within the community. This heavily scarred warrior must be a person of high standing indeed Amelia told herself as, inevitably, her gaze settled on the woman’s copious pubic bush, marvelling at how well it shielded her vulva while she was in a standing position.
As the priestess’s peroration came to an end the two women turned to face each other, their expressions still impassive and inscrutable. Standing some five feet apart, they began stretching and shaking their limbs loose as they limbered up in preparation for what was to follow.
Soon a melodic gong rang out from the dais, and the Celtic and Nubian warriors crouched facing each other and adopting ready stances, their strong fingers outstretched. As the gong sounded a second time both charged forward shouting battle cries their pounding feet on clay as they covered the short space separating them amazingly fast.
Amelia was thrilled by the meaty slap generated as the warriors’ oiled bodies slammed together, and she saw them bracing powerfully, and interlocking their fingers in a test of strength. Swaying backwards and forwards the two warrior women grunted and strained, their rippling muscles undulating under their skin tattoos as each tried to best the other. After several minutes neither had given any ground so they abandoned the hold, pulling each other into a mutual frontal headlock while ramming their big breasts together hard, their feet stamping on clay as they fought for position.
By now, both women had been forced to widen their stance to maintain balance and, seizing her opportunity, the Nubian suddenly drove her knee up hard between the other’s legs, making the Celt cry out and dance back in pain. Capitalising on the opening provided, the ebony warrior pivoted swiftly, forcing her opponent’s head down in a brutal side headlock, both women’s biceps straining as the Celt struggled to counter the hold.
For a few moments it seemed as if the Celt would break free but with a piercing cry, the scarred warrior twisted hard and took her opponent down to her knees, still controlling her in the headlock, while looking quickly up at the ebony queen who nodded her tacit approval of her champion’s move.
Both wrestlers were panting with the terrific effort but the Nubian skilfully kept up the pressure, wrapping herself sinuously around her struggling opponent and using her full body weight as she forced the Celt down on her back. On the ground she quickly lost the advantage however, as the supple, tattooed warrior tore herself free before they locked up again, rolling over each other on the sun-baked earth.
The struggle on the ground grew long and tense as both young warriors proved to be truly excellent and innovative wrestlers, perfectly matched in strength and skill. Before long both became slick with sweat and effort and Amelia, having edged closer, was treated to a virtuoso wrestling display that had many complex moves and counter moves.
But as the hot sun continued to beat down out of the azure sky the two adversaries’ herculean efforts gradually slowed and, as intent frowns started appearing on the watching queens’ foreheads, it was clear that an unprecedented battle of attrition between their finest champions was taking place.
Finally, the Celt achieved the crucial first breakthrough, trapping her opponent on her back in a powerful, breast-crushing reverse mount, her chin digging into her adversary’s mons pubis as she fought hard to keep her from bridging out of the hold. Amelia noticed in her excitement that the tattooed one was successfully pinning the scarred warrior’s shuddering shoulders to the ground even though the latter’s legs were still kicking out furiously. Five interminably long seconds later the gong sounded, signalling that the first fall of this marathon contest had finally been awarded to the tattooed Celtic warrior.
With the sweat running down into her eyes, the exhausted victor raised herself from her prone opponent and rocked back on her haunches, glancing up to her queen briefly for encouragement. Rather than congratulating her champion however the queen’s eyes were registering an urgent note of concern, and it was well-justified as the Nubian suddenly shot her legs up from the ground, catching the Celt by the throat in a well-executed leg scissors.
It seemed that the Nubian intended to make good her deficit quickly as she twisted her legs sideways, taking her adversary to the ground and viciously tightening the hold while fending off the Celt’s thrashing legs which even now were trying to trap her in a reciprocal hold. Another twist and the tattooed warrior lay flat on her back, gasping for breath, struggling to prise those python-like legs apart to ease the brutal pressure on her neck. Suddenly – and unexpectedly – her wish was granted as the scarred woman abruptly released but only to convert the hold into a full body press as she went for the equalising pin.
Although the prolonged choke hold had clearly weakened her adversary, Amelia felt that the Nubian must have a plan as securing the Celt in a full body pin would still be no easy matter. The answer was not long in coming as the scarred warrior raised her hips high before slamming her hairy mons down hard on her adversary’s, repeating the blow until they both cried out in pain and anguish.
Amelia had once lost a long sex-fight to a more experienced mentor who had taught her in the process that a cunt-to-cunt grapevine was one of the most devastating pins that one woman could inflict on another, and she felt convinced that this would now be the ebony warrior’s strategy.
Amelia was close enough to the action to hear the women’s bushes actually start scraping as they locked calves and braced their protruding mons together, a clear sign that the tattooed one underneath had accepted her rival’s overtly sexual challenge and was determined to fight fire with fire.
This latest development had caused a ripple of excitement on the dais as the courtiers chatted animatedly for a few moments before quietening down again. Although the two queens themselves had maintained a regal silence Amelia could see just how tightly both women were gripping the edges of their thrones.
As the eyes of the two warriors on the ground met, the ebony one smiled at her adversary and placed her hands symbolically on the other’s shoulders, leaving her in no doubt that she would be pinned all too easily if she lost. Ignoring the taunt, the Celt answered simply enough by thrusting upwards with her hips violently as she tried to twist out from the hold she was in.
The two warriors’ powerful legs now bore the brunt of the action, their calves still locked together as the Nubian tried to stretch her opponent’s legs still wider apart while the tattooed woman began straining in the opposite direction. Meanwhile their broad, muscular mounds slammed into each other again and again, sending shock waves coursing through their lower bodies.
Still revelling in her invisibility to the denizens of this land, Amelia moved round directly behind the two wrestlers so that she could observe the struggle going on between their legs and genitalia at close hand. By now both warriors were going at it full force and, even through the mass of tangled cunt hair, Amelia could see how their thick, muscular pussy lips were flattening together, spreading out with every thrust, squeezing out more of their womanly juices which were starting to flow liberally.
Having come within an ace of taking complete control, the scarred warrior seemed to be struggling more and more to stay on top of her tattooed foe who, initially at least, was responding more strongly to the sexual stimulus, bucking and twisting her loins like a majestic wild mare doing her utmost to unseat an unwanted rider.
So intent was Amelia on watching the ongoing struggle between the women’s legs and crotches that she failed to realise that a new front had suddenly opened up in the battle. Hearing an enraged yowl, she looked up and saw that the Nubian had a big handful of creamy white breast which she was cruelly kneading and squeezing. At first this seemed like a good diversionary tactic but as the Celt tried desperately to pull the assailing hand away, strong fingers gripped her erect pink nipple, jerking it in what looked unmistakably like a milking motion.
Omigod – that’s her game! Amelia gasped to herself. Although she had read of women using forced breast-milking techniques to weaken their opponents in sex-fights she had never seen this being used in the flesh before, so to speak.
Moments later the Nubian was rewarded with a powerful spurt of milk from the Celt’s breast and straight away craned her neck down, her lips closing on the thick nipple, which she also anchored with her teeth, and began sucking the stream of warm milk into her hungry mouth.
The warrior underneath let out a tortured, plaintive gasp: and it was clear a clever trap had been sprung and she was in deep trouble: if she tried to pull her nipple free, the scarred woman’s teeth would likely rip the flesh; what was more, with the other woman’s cunt pressing down hard on her own, and their legs still grapevined together, she had no room left to manoeuvre.
Facing up to her predicament the Celt did perhaps the only thing she could do: rummaging desperately in the tight space between their sweaty, struggling bodies her fingers closed around the Nubian’s big dark teat, massaging and pulling at it until her adversary’s engorged gland started spraying milk too. Pulling the hard nipple desperately into her open mouth she clamped down and started slurping as if her life depended on it.
Amelia was growing extremely wet between the legs as she watched the primal struggle unfolding in front of her: both warriors were sucking at each other’s straining breasts in a desperate battle to be the first to drain the other’s milk sacs while, simultaneously, their wet, hungry cunts’ were sliding and rubbing together, lathering up their sexual juices into a viscous, pungent cream that gummed their long cunt hairs together into a wiry, tangled thicket.
Although the tattooed warrior fought as hard as seemed womanly possible, it was apparent to Amelia that she was at too much of a disadvantage and, sure enough, her head started to loll back, eyes glazing over as the Nubian sucked ravenously on her straining teat and her pale breast was emptied of the last of its precious cargo. So intent was Amelia on watching this spectacle that she failed to notice the ebony warrior’s pin had been locked in place until the melodic gong sounded the equalising fall.
While her satisfied queen clenched and unclenched her fist at this latest development, the dark warrior raised herself up languidly on her forearms, her sweat-sheened face with its half-closed eyes betraying the state of drugged euphoria brought on by the aphrodisiacal effect of imbibing so much of her rival’s sweet milk; milk that was still drooling down her chin. The Celtic warrior also seemed drugged as she started to struggle fitfully beneath her rival.
As the Nubian pressed down strongly on the Celt again Amelia realised that she was not planning to let her adversary escape; indeed the rules of the contest seemed to provide no compulsion for her to release the other woman in the interest of fair play at this point.
Both warriors knew that the next fall would determine not only who would stand as victor in front of their queens but also would be crowned the sexually dominant female between them. With so much still at stake the coming build-up started slow as they stared into each other’s eyes defiantly while tentatively moving their throbbing pussies around to determine just how stuck together they actually were.
Without breaking their intense eye contact, the scarred, dark-skinned warrior started rocking her heavy hips, slowly at first, letting her hungry wet twat press down, until her grunting opponent responded, opening her thighs wider and mirroring the other woman’s movements as they gradually built up a constant rhythm, grinding their pussies up and down, driving and fencing with their big, swollen clits.
By now Amelia was watching between the humping women’s legs where the scent of competing womanly musk was almost overpowering as each warrior’s vulva stretched and squeezed its rival. Even when their squished vaginal lips became glued together, trapped in each other’s overlapping puffy folds, she could easily differentiate between the tattooed warrior’s which were pale-pink and the ebony one’s which were a deep purplish-brown.
Sucking and smacking sounds began to fill the air as the two warriors battling pussies moved together harder and faster, their cunt lips locked and sealed in their own juices. At this point the Nubian’s hand closed involuntarily on the pale breast that her hungry lips had drained only minutes earlier. Squeezing the now flaccid gland contemptuously, she ground down as hard as she could, forcing her big hungry clit into the other woman’s soaking cunt where it could duel with its hard pink rival, both fully unsheathed at last.
Something insistent was telling Amelia that she must leave now but as she rose she stole a final look back, and witnessed the precise moment that the tattooed woman’s weakening cunt lips were finally engulfed. Hearing her ragged, irregular breathing, Amelia could sense the Celtic warrior’s state of mounting sexual panic and humiliation as her cunt was ridden and conquered by its more powerful opponent.
But only the redheaded warrior herself truly knew how it felt on that fateful day: to endure having her clit steadily bludgeoned into submission by a stronger clit; to risk having her vaginal insides almost pulled out of shape by the sucking strength of the scarred woman’s powerful fuck lips; to suffer simultaneous ecstasy and pain as her defeated vagina finally gave up the battle and shot its surrendering load, ejaculating her cum deep into the Nubian warrior’s conquering, all-powerful cunt.
As the insistent beeping of the alarm dragged Amelia back from her vivid dreamscape she was in a feverish sweat and the sheet beneath her groin was soaking wet, as were the insides of her thighs. She moved her hand down and touched her moist, hard clit, wishing that the dream had not ended so abruptly but feeling sexually sated all the same.
To Be Continued in Chapter 10.