Amber “Little Miss Alpha” as Carmen vs. BriBunny from FCF

Amber “Little Miss Alpha” as Carmen

I had a life. Not purple cloth or golden gilding, but it was mine and I loved it.

I was a wife to a man who I loved. He was not perfect, but he was gentle with me. Kind to me. And made sure that I was safe, even in the hardest of times.

A mother to a son that I adored. His glimmering brown eyes, mischievous smile, and tousled black hair a mirror of his grandfather — my own father. Each of them sharing the same name.

I have not spoken of them — that husband, that child, or that life since I was taken from me. Since our chief treasurer was caught stealing coin that ought to have gone to the Romans.

Their vengeance was mighty and their punishments cruel. Without announcement coming to our lands and taking one of every three women of the age to bear children. I was one of those women. Dragged out of my own, as my claws latched on to every beam of wood and bundle of fabric as they tore me away from my husband and child.

Each now only a memory that I cling to after so many years without them. Are they still there, in that same house? Are they still mourning my taking? Or have they found a new wife — a new mother to fill the void.

The answers are both my dreams and nightmares. The chase to acquire them the fuel that drives me to survive. At first, the cruelty of the Roman soldiers and their leaders. And then when I was too scarred and emotionless to be of use to them, to Alicja. A white woman who purchased me for a coin or perhaps a fuck. I was not told, and as I sit here staring into the flicking fire at the center of this camp, I barely care.

As I am now, only one more contest away from freedom. One more pit battle away from the chance to go home to my family. That is, if I win.

If I can conquer whatever broken woman they put into the pit with me. With claws and teeth, strikes and grips. No clothing. No weapons. No rules, save to survive. The ability to submit or ask for mercy not given to me or my opponent but our masters. My fate, in so many ways in the hands of Alicja if I do not conquer for her.

That necessity in mind, I watch as the other slavers drag their girls around the fire. Showing them off. Their bodies. Their breasts. Their pussies and their scars. They are all faceless to me. Meaningless to me now, after so much pain and anguish. They are humans. Mothers. Daughters. Sisters. And yet to me, now … they are the last thing that stands between me and reclaiming my life. Their suffering, as I have been, be damned.

BriBunny:

The night before was always terrifying because it was full of unknowns. But, when the fight started the next day, things became a lot more straightforward. Win at all costs.

This is the only life I’ve known for half a decade. The Roman empire made its way up to the north, across the English channel, and into Ireland. My village was conquered. Most people were murdered except for the strongest young men, who could make excellent workers as slaves, and the most beautiful women. I was fortunate to be in the latter group, although fortunate might be a relevant term.

Sure, my life was spared, but what kind of life was this. Some young young women were sold as sex slaves. Others were sold into a far more violent life. The success of the Colosseum in Rome has spawned affairs of a lesser sort. Each city now seems to have its own arena, and slave owners made good use of them. Two slave owners would arrange to meet in such and such city, the slaves would be paraded in front of each other, naked, scarred, and emotionally traumatized, and the next day the slavers would make a fortune off the local through ticket sales and gambling. It was a successful business for them. It was a nightmare for us.

The only shining light was a Roman law requiring any slave forced to compete in gladiatorial-like events to be given their freedom upon three triumphant victories in a row. It was a carrot dangled in front of those forced to fight for their lives… a carrot few of them ever got to taste. No slaver ever wanted to lose a slave, so fights for freedom were few and far between. I won my first two fights. They were savage. My beauty is now mostly gone. I bear the scars those two women left me, and they will never go away. Scars on my face, breasts, stomach, arms, and even between my legs. After my last fight and the vicious claw, she applied to my pussy, I’m not sure I could ever have kids, even if I wanted to.

But that was two years ago. For two years I’ve waited for my chance for freedom. For two years I’ve waited to face this final test, and it has never come. But tonight there is hope. My owner, Markus, a tall African man with a strong body, parades us all in front of a woman… a woman owner… it seems so reprehensible to me for another woman to do this to other women. The two owners speak in Latin, a language I never learned, but they seem to be in heavy conversation. Markus motions for me to step forward, calling to me in my native Gaelic tongue. Across the fire another woman steps forward. My eyes lock to hers, and I see her owner approaching. Markus approaches me, standing in front of me, looking me over like a piece of meat.

“Good news, my Sabrina. Alicja there has a slave on her fight for freedom too… Tomorrow… we will see which of you two the gods favor.” I knew you were being told the same thing. I could see the look in your eyes across the fire as we glared at one another. I don’t know you or anything about you, but fate has entangled our lives together, and I will win my freedom, no matter the cost you must pay.

Carmen:

I slept well last night. The dirt of this land seeming softer than the last few they had taken me to. The sun far dimmer in the morning than it was in the dunes. More clouds above and green below. I would have thought this to be heaven if I wasn’t a slave.

A slave pulled toward my own fate and destiny, not by chains, but by the call of my master. Her blonde knotted hair and sapphire blue eyes undimmed though she wore scars much the same as I do. A tear on my right cheek, from bone to the bottom of my jaw. And a cut from the left side of my mouth to my ear. Neither earned in a pit battle like the one I march to, but instead from the soldiers who took me. Tortured me. And then when I wasn’t pretty enough for them, tossed away by the same.

As through the dirt-made roads we walk, I wonder without words, how Alicja earned those wounds for the wearing. Was she a slave like me? Thrown into fights like the one I am nearing? It’d make a good story. A good motivation for the women like me, who follow her lead. But I do not speak her language. Nor does she seem to speak Egyption. And so I can only guess when she commands me. Assume when she thanks me. Her smile or snarl giving me enough to know that today means more to her than other fights.

Is it my freedom that concerns her?

My escape from her chains that makes her stare into the distance without speaking? I do not know, and cannot answer. And yet still, when we arrive, I am ready. Taking my place by the edge and closing my eyes. So that as the crowd around us gathers, cheering for the spectacle that is to come, I simply wait.

Counting the seconds until with a sudden shout, Alicja shoves me into the pit. My body crashing down into the shallow, foot-tall pool of water with a harsh and unforgiving thud.

One I recover from and into a stand as I wait for my opponent, whoever she may be, to arrive.

Bri:

I spent the night unable to sleep. I have never really known a true life. I have never known the love of a man. I have never known the feel of living in my own home, working at my own trade, and fulfilling my own dreams. I have only know this for so long now. I have memories of when I was a young girl. I was a teenager when I was taken, just on the cusp of being allowed to date and be married. I have blocked out the memory of our parents and our home. The image of their throats being cut, their blood splattering across our home, is too much for me to bear. That life is gone. This is life now: being dragged from town to town, forced to fight at the master’s will, and since my last victory, yearning to be free, yearning for a life that I’ve both forgotten and never really known. I would do anything to escape this life… to be free… to be released from my chains.

On each side of the pit we stand. There is a rope by which we might be lowered down, but slaves are never treated so well. You are naked, just like me. Your skin is darker than my own. Middle eastern? Persian? Maybe Egyptian? I’m sure you were once strikingly beautiful. Most of us forced into this life are. But scars now spread across your skin like an infection. I will never know your name. I will never know if you had a family or friends. I will never know if there was someone special waiting for you upon your release. I will only know you as the woman who stood between me and my freedom, and that is enough for me.

There is a shout across the pit as you are kicked in. Markus laughs, and then I feel his foot on my back with a loud grunt. I go flying forward, crashing down into the food-tall pool of water that starts to turn dark the moment we stir it up. I rise to my feet quickly. Strike hard and strike fast. That was my motto my first two fights, and it worked. I barely get my hands out of the water when I come lunging for you, my hands aimed for your cheeks, trying to latch on and tackle you back down into the water from the very start.

Carmen:

The first few moments are always perilous. Whoever is thrown in second at a clear disadvantage, at least in theory. I could strike. I could leap atop you, and try to smother you our before you can even reach a stand, or at least that’s what the new girls always think. Not understanding how open they leave themselves by pouncing on a recovering cat.

But I have learned that lesson, by fighting — by watching, and instead wait. Wait for you to center, to lift your body from the water, and then lunge. Your hands, with dagger-tipped claws, aiming at my face but I go to block. And in that adverse purpose, our palms meet, fingers place, and then nails dig into the back of each others hands as we come together hard. Our naked bodies, and bouncing, unheld breasts crashing together with a clap that echoes off the pits walls.

Each of us snarling as we spin and spit, slamming into the dirt walls of our battlefield as we two women without freedom fight to make this our last battle of blood and water. Mud and madness.

Bri:

I can’t help but curse you. I know you will never understand me, but still, I must curse you. It’s cathartic. It helps me see you as less than human. As something other. As something not worthy of mercy and pity.

“I WILL END YOU!!!” I shriek, thinking mostly of my freedom and what lies beyond this pit. The water splashes around us as our palms press and our fingers curl around each other and stab into the top of our hands. Our breasts smash and smear as we press into each other. Our arms and legs flex and struggle, and we both grunt loudly. I don’t know anything about you other than the fact that you have your chance at freedom too, which means you’ve bested at least two other women. Were you forced to end them? Was their owner merciful? In my first victory, her owner was merciful. As I started to slash at her face with my nails while she offered no defense, her owner put a stop to things. In my second victory, her owner was not so merciful, and I am traumatized every day by the look on her face as I choked the life from her.

But I did not choose this life. Her death was not my fault, and if it comes to it, yours won’t be either. I will be free, no matter the cost… no matter the pain… and as so we struggle body to body standing in the water of this makeshift pit, I thrust my head forward, not to headbutt you, but to sink my teeth into your face as I drive with my legs and try to shove you back.

Carmen:

Dark walls and shadows, pierced by a beam of overhead light that only now, in the confines of this pit seems bright. Its fluorescence catching drops of water as they fly up around us, just as the same washes your pale skin in haunting glow.

That brilliant bath of light, along with the echo of your shouting, feral voice would terrify me if this were the first horror I have faced, or you the first woman I had battled. Though your words are a jumble of sounds and syllables I cannot, place, arrange, or understand I can still tell you are fierce, violent, and will be without mercy if I leave my fate to you.

Our chest-heavy bodies smashing together and then pulling back as we each seek purchase and push. Trying to drive the other hard into the wall of the pit to gain the advantage and free our hands. Once and again — once and again our tits smashing together as we struggle. Until finally you put all of your strength into driving into me, your teeth latching onto my chin and biting down, just as I counter your effort, using your own momentum when I give way on one side, to let you through, by me, and then into the wall. Your back colliding with its uneven, rock-strewn surface as I pin you hard. Your teeth drawing blood, just as the rocks at your rear do the same.

“Aaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiggggghhhhhh” I shriek at the pain of your teeth gnawing at my flesh, all while I drag my body and breasts left and then right, again and again, to cut you with the jagged stones sticking out from the well’s surface.

Bri:

I go in for a bite to your face, and while the sun may be shining, the birds may be chirping, and outside the pit there may be those enjoying the day and the merriment of “sport,” inside the pit, it feels quite different. My humanity is gone. I am desperate to recover it if ever given the chance, but for now, it is gone. I would never have thought about biting into another woman’s face, but now I do so without much thought.

But you are clever. A survivor. A fighter. I may only understand your screams at the most basic level, feeding off the energy without ever understanding a word you may say, but you are not to be trifled with. Not when you are able to move so quickly, turning us and using my momentum against me to send me crashing into the rock wall of the pit even with my teeth stuck into your chin and the taste of copper on my tongue.

“AAAARRrrrghhhhhhhhhh!” I scream through the bite as you bleed against my lip, just as I bleed against the rock as my back is cut and torn. My arms jerks free, both of us in too much pain to maintain our grip, and I thrust my hands forward, not into your breasts but into your ribs. The pain in my back as you work your body side to side across mine is intense, and it makes me lose my bite as I scream. I must stop your movement before my back is torn to shreds, so my nails latch onto you, squeezing into your ribs and between them, stabbing in as put my wet right foot on the rock and shove myself forward into you

Carmen:

We each imagine ourselves animals, Sags (demonesses), willing to inflict pain and endure any suffering. And yet, as our wills pour into your bite and my trashing of one body against another, we each concede. Not the battle. Not the war. But our attacks which cause such unblunted pain.

Our clawed grips of each others hands releasing, just as your bite does the same. My darker-hued caramel body pulling back from yours, whilst you reach out and dig your nails into my ribs.

An attack which does not make me schriek as before, but instead whimper softly. My attempt at backing away stopped as for a moment, skewered by the tips of your claws I suffer. It is opening and abandonment to you. The perfect moment to strike, and so you do. Planting your foot into the wall and then leaping off of it and into me. Our breasts colliding once more when you tackle me into the water beneath us. Your thighs sliding down on either side of my abdomen and into a perfect straddle as my lips remain only centimeters above the water’s suffocating grasp.

Bri:

Your face was once beautiful. Even now, as I straddle you in these waters where one of us may likely die today, I can see it. Your face may be scarred. Your face may be tensed in pain and anger. You may be screaming at me, but I can see the beauty that was once there. I wonder who you were… a daughter certainly… a mother? a sister? No matter. Not today. Markus said that we would see who the gods favored, but there are no gods. No deity would allow this life to befall women like you and I. No deity would allow such cruelty. Philosophers and theologians call it the problem of evil. Theodicy has become my life. I am a living witness to the fact that the gods never existed, or if they did, they died long ago. We are alone. You, me, all of us. But especially you and I. Alone here in the pit, forced by fate to struggle for our lives.

As I straddle you, my hands pull from your ribs and I lean forward to grab for your hair. It’s dangerous to let your breasts dangle in front of another woman’s mouth down here in the pit, which is a lesson I learned the hard way. I grab the back of your head, not so much pulling your hair as JAMMING my nails into the back of your scalp, and then I pull down, trying to tilt your head back even farther, trying to get your mouth to open in pain, trying to pull the back of your head down into the mud to help the water level rise that centimeter it needs to go to get into your mouth so I can begin to drown you.

“Curse you, you whore! Curse the woman who bore you! Curse anyone who loved you! Curse you for being in this pit with me!” I shriek down into your face, knowing damn well you won’t understand me, but sometimes you just need to scream.

Carmen:

I was a fool not to stand there when your nails dug into my ribs. No better than a novice at this painful game, when I did not prepare for your lunge from the well’s wall. And now, with you thinking me both, you reach for the back of my head and try to force me to open my mouth. To scream as your claws drag against my scalp so that my lips part, and the filthy water I lay in begins to floods.

It is a smart attack. A shrewd one, that could end this fight quickly for you, without another scar left on your beautiful alabaster skin.

But with your shouts and screams of foreign nonsense, I place you. Even while struggling to see through the dark, brown water that hurts my eyes when they open. And with that knowledge of where you are, I am able to fire my arms up from the pool with an exiting splash, so that thereafter my claws can dig into your dangling, pink centered tits. Tearing at them at their midpoint and then down, each of our breasts too large to fit in a single hand. A desperate attack I continue. Even as my head shits hard, from left to right, trying to get free of your nail-driven grip on my hair.

Bri:

This cannot be this easy? Can it? I hold your head down by your hair, pulling back, trying to get the dirty water to rise up into your mouth as I pull you deeper into the mud. If I can get enough water into you mouth, this might be the end of you… the end of this chapter of my life…. the end of this nightmare that I hope every day I will wake from and yet never do.

But you are savage and cunning. You are not going to go down so easily. You will not succumb with taking your pound from me first…. a pound you seem intent on tearing from my breast. Fine by me. I will give you what you want. If it costs me scars, blood, sweat, and tears to win my freedom, I will pay that cost. I will pay that cost and then some, but you will pay more dearly. You will pay more severely.

Your hands latch onto my breasts and squeeze. The wetness makes a splash onto my skin as your nails latch onto the top of my breasts and dig in. Your thumbs stab into my areolas, and my head tilts back as I scream up into the clear blue sky. “AAAWWWWW!!!!” Your head shifts and your body start to turn in the water. You pull on my breasts and throw me off, throwing me to my back with my legs around you. My hands fall from your head, but my legs tighten around your waist. I begin to SQUEEEZEEE, trying to scissor you, but your body keeps shifting in the wetness of my legs after splashing in the water. My hands reach up and grab for your face again, my nails trying to latch onto your teeth as I feel your nails cutting into my breasts and
tearing at the part of me that used to make me the envy of my entire village.

Carmen:

I try to stifle my screams of pain, as you bend and twist at my neck. Clawing fresh from my scalp, and snapping strands of hair from their roots, all in an effort to get my mouth filled with water.

But as you work to suffocate me with liquid, I latch onto your tits with my nails and drag down. Each deadly digit leaving long, red trails of peeled up flesh and seeping blood. Only for those same plowing weapons to stop at the heavy basons of your breasts and then focus cruelly on your nipples. I can hear you cry out in pain, and then pull back.

Your hand releasing from the back of my head, as I find the room to rise. Using your retreating tits to pull myself up into a seated position, a usage of claws that no doubt worsens your suffering.

A suffering I do not let end, even as you drop to your back, your legs coiling around me like snakes as you try to leg scissor. It would be brilliant and biting, harsh and horrifying, if the wetness of our surroundings didn’t cause your thighs and calves to slip and then you to fall into the water with a splash.

One that is still echoing, along with the gathering crowds cheering, when just below your feet I stand and gasp, finally able to open my lips. But there is no time to breathe or rest, no I have to move! And so I do, diving into the air and on top of you. Looking to pin you, just as you did me. Not in a reared back straddle, but in a body to body, breast to breast grapevine.

Bri:

You are tearing at my breasts… ripping at them…. marking them with cuts that I will wear for the rest of my life…. however long that may be. I try to squeeze you in my legs, but my attempt to scissor you as you force me to my back fails miserably. You simply slide through my legs and move back, your hands pulling from my breasts, and then you lunge forward, dropping yourself on me, and I raise my nails up in self-defense, certain that you’re going to try and bite my face in retribution.

But the nails work out even better than I had hoped. As you lunge on top of me to go for the grapevine, my nails press into your face, and I squeeze my hands into your cheeks… “VILE BITCH!!!” I shout up as my nails sink in, “UGHNNNNNNN!!!!” I scream in pain those moments after as your breasts smash down onto my freshly cut and bleeding tits. I shriek and my hands lose their grip.

You try to grab my arms in the water as you hope to pin me down, but I reach over your shoulders, reaching as far down your back as I can manage, and I dig my claws into your darker skin, and I pull up. My own back is cut and bleeding and now stinging down in the water, and my nails tear up your back to your shoulders which I grip and press, trying to push you off me as I scream in pain under you.

Carmen:

It was dangerous to leap onto you with your eyes able to watch me descend. Giving you the time and opportunity to prepare for me, but I have already learned you are too dangerous to be given space or the freedom to control this engagement.

I need to be on you, at you, never ceasing to attack or I can be certain you will be on top of me. You’re too wild. Too untamed. No thought put into defense or strategy. Just ferocity, like a jackal. And so I risk it, diving atop you, at the expense of your nails digging into my face and further ruining a beauty that I had already lost so long ago.

“AAarrrrgggghhhh!!! BITCH! CUNT!!” I curse in pain, just as I feel your nails dig into my bad and pull forward. Peeling the flesh from my shoulders and spine, just as I had done to you against the rock. Those two attacks in rapid fire succession keep me from catching you, wrapping our legs together, or pinning you beneath me.

But even with that success you reach once more, looking to not only wound me, and evade my grasp, but also to push me off so you can scatter away. But your drive forward works only in part. Your body hitting and then sliding against mine, so that instead of moving us both, you turn your own body beneath me, and leave me on your back. My left arm wrapping around your throat, as my right reaches around to try and take your tit on the same side into my palm and power once again. “No man will ever want you again, WHORE!” I hiss in a whisper into your ear as I look to lock you into my holds and against me.

Bri:

My nails pull down your back to your shoulder. I can feel them tearing your skin and cutting it. I can feel them ripping you. And I like it. I know I have become less human over the years. How could I not? When you treat someone like less than human, that it what they become. But it’s not just the pleasure of inflicting pain on you that delights me, but the pleasure of knowing that your pain is a means to an end. Freedom. Release. Getting some semblance of my life back.

I push on your shoulders and try to turn you, but my feet slip in the water and my bloody, wet hands lose their grip on your shoulders, and just as I start to push, you lift just enough to let my flop over onto my stomach underneath you.

“SLUT!!!” I scream at you as you scream at me your vile, foreign tongue. “I WILL RIP YOUR HEART … AAARRGHHHH!!!” Your left arm wraps around my throat from the back and your right hand reaches down into the water and grabs my breast. I scream out, tilting my head back to keep my face out of the water as best as I can, but every time you push down on me, my face plunges in again.

You push…. and my face gets buried in the water. Bubbles come out of my mouth as I scream. I tilt my neck back, trying to make just enough room… just enough space between us…. suddenly I plunge my own head down into the water, drowning myself, and then I jerk my head back as hard as can, trying to snap the hard back of my head up into your face and nose as my hands push down into the water and I push up, hoping the pain in your face will be enough to allow me to push you off.

Carmen:

I have you. I have my freedom! I think to myself in gleeful malice as on our sides I not only have my arm coiled around your throat like a boa constrictor to choke you, or my claws dug once more into your already wounded and bleeding tit, but also the ability to drown you. Once and then again. Over and over. Water filling your mouth, throat, and hopefully lungs in just a few more dunks.

I hear the crowd above gasping in shock, just as you gasp for air. They asking themselves will I kill you? Will I end you? To see my husband? To see my child again? I would flay you. I would break every bone in your body and wear your skin as a disguise if it meant holding my beautiful boy once more.

But just as that decision appears to be mine, and your head is once more buried beneath the now bloody water beneath us, you slam your head back so hard that when the back of your skull hits my nose, I lose focus and vision. My nose feeling like it is broken, though somehow it avoided that air-blocking fate. My body clinging to you, not in the choke I just had, but in desperation and confusion as I fall back into the water.

You could crawl away. Scramble to your feet, but instead you roll with me. Grabbing my hands with your own as on my back I lay. Your battered and clawed breasts facing the ceiling whilst you pull your arms and mine taut and out to our sides. Then, with my legs spread, and head once more lip deep in the water you bridge your body and then slam your ass down onto my hips and pubic mound. Not once, or twice, but again and again. Crashing my ass into the rocks beneath us again and again as I try to refocus. My lips opening in a groan, as the water we writhe in begins to pour into my mouth.

Bri:

Above us the spectators watch. Some are aroused. Some are just reveling in the violence. Some are just going about their days. They drink and eat and gamble. Some spit on us. Down in the pit we aren’t focused on them. We don’t care about them. We care perhaps about Alicja and Markus. Should things go badly, they will determine our life or death. But I would rather die than lose. I would rather die than return back to that life of chains and walking from town to town and being paraded around naked.I would rather die than be thrust into the pit again and be forced to rip and tear at another woman. But I may not get that choice.

As I bash your face with my head, I feel you go weak, and I grab you, I roll back onto you, forcing you to your back so that we’re both staring up at the sun. I tilt my head back, pushing the back of my head into your mouth and nose and trying to force your head down into the water. Water still spews from my lips as I cough and gasp, and with your arms pinned to the side as best as I can, I lift my hips and begin to pound my ass down into your cunt.

“TRY TO DOWN ME CUNT!!! I WILL DROWN YOU!!!” The words sound like garbled nonsense to you, but I know that sound. It’s all the more fear-inducing when someone is in control and screaming at you, trying to hurt you, and you can’t understand a word she is saying. I drop my hips down and pound down into you, trying to make you groan in pain and water flood your mouth, when suddenly your right hand comes free. You grab the back of my head and dig your nails into my neck. I SHRIEK IN PAIN, and you SHOVE me off to the side. I splash into the water next to you and then roll away. My grip on your other hand releases, and for the first time since we were kicked into the pit, we separate. I roll to my knees and SCREAM. My hands splash into the water. I am cut and bruised. The water that drips from my body has tints of red everywhere, just as the water in the pit is starting to. “I WILL KILL YOU WHORE!!!” I shriek at the top of my lungs as I put my right hand on the hard rock wall and start to rise, watching with terrifying feeling as you rise out of the water that I’ve given you as much as the other bitches I fought before…. and they were done… but you’re still rising for more. I pray I have enough.

Carmen:

Like a tool hitting a red-hot piece of metal on an anvil you hammer me into the ground. Angry. Rage-filled. I tried to drown you, just as you had tried to do to me, but it is all together different when someone else tries to kill you.

It makes it real.

It makes it terrifying.

It cemented in both our minds now that each of us will do anything to win this fight. No mercy spared. No thought given to empathy or understanding of the dilemma we each face. That soul-deep realization of consequence and danger only intensifying as I find a way to hurt you. Pulling my hand free to gouge at the back of your neck. Forcing you to release me and roll away.

We two slaves — women — victims raising together and hissing. Arms extended to our sides, fingers spread and curled. Nails flashing in the light that pears down on us. Not an ounce of humanity left in that hole. Not until this is over. Not until one of us has been broken and the other freed.

That truth made clear when we each scream at each other. The words lost on us, but their meaning understood. “Beg your master, girl. BEG HER, BECAUSE I WILL NOT STOP WHEN YOU CRY!” From my mouth drips the blood and muck made mix that our feet step in to the side as we circle. “I will kill you and take my freedom….” My shout dropping into a low curse, I can see your lips curl into a smirk and your eyes narrow.

A thinning that disappears as I suddenly take to the air and lunge at you! My hands looking to grab your hair, and to pull you into me and then take you to the pool beneath us.

Bri:

Your words sound to me like the roaring of a ferocious wild beast. I can’t understand what you’re saying, much like how I wouldn’t be able to understand the roar of a lioness should I ever encounter one. But I don’t need to know the exact meaning of what you said to get the basic sense. Maybe I’m merely projecting, casting myself into your words, but I feel the fear…. the terror…. the wildness….the need to win at whatever cost.

I’ve never been more afraid in my whole life. In my first fight, I was scared, but I was ready to lose. What did it matter anyway? All that lay ahead of me was pain. So too in my second fight. I was sure that would be the end…. but I would make her pay… and pay she did. With her life. But now… so close to freedom… so close to release… so close to acquiring what every slaves craves but almost none ever earn… I’m scared to be this close and fail… I’m scared that I might not have enough.. I’m scared of what I will do to earn that freedom… I’m scared that the day I came closest to freedom will end with my end…

“GET UP!!! GET UP AND FIGHT ME WHORE!!! GET UP YOU WILD BITCH!!!” I scream as you rise and shriek at me in the pit. You finish screaming at me in your cursed tongue and then lunge for me, literally leaving your feet to try and grab me. Your hands grab my hair as your feet splash down in the pool, and I grab for you wrists. As you try to turn me to throw me down into the pool, I twist hard, your arms and send us crashing into the rock wall with our sides hitting first. “AAARRGHHHH CUNT!!!” I spit into your face and release your wrists as you turn my head to the side and try to bash it into the rock wall. I reach out and jam my right into your forehead. My nails curl into your temple and bangs and I scratch down your face as I scream and drive my legs, turning us on the wall and pushing you to your back, thrusting in with my breasts and pushing side to side, trying to rake your back across the rock just as you did to mine… “HOW DOES IT FEEL WHORE!!!! HOW DOES IT FEEL WITH YOUR BACK ON THE ROCK!!!

Carmen:

I meant to grab you. To take you down. Betting that once on the ground and in the water, I could out fight you. Out wrestle you. Find a way to lock you beneath me, and end this. But when as has been the case with every engagement of ours so far, when I take your hair into my hands you do not react like a fighter but instead a wild beast.

Dragging us, along with your curses and heathen shouts, into the rock wall. Giving not a care to what damage it may cause you. Instead sacrificing your body to hurt mine, Each of crashing into jagged, half-cut rocks extruding from the well’s wall. Some piercing, some bruising, and others catching and tearing at our flesh as we struggle.

Not one muscle against another in some slow war of attrition, but in a hurricane of limbs and strikes, pushes and pulls. Our once quiet lips not parted permanently in gasps, grunts, whimpers, and cries of pain. My hands slapping down on your body wherever they find the space to land, all while your claws tear at my face.

I do not know you, but I hate you.

I have never met you before this day, and yet, even freed from our slavery and this contest, I would plunge a dagger into your chest.

Your ferocity and passion mixing with mine in the worst and most malice-inducing of ways. Binding our souls and futures in a meld that neither of us will ever escape from, regardless of which of us wins this day.

That connection mirrored as together we roll along the wall until we stumble. Careen against it until we trip. And then after you press into me, and force my back to cut like I did to you when we began to fall to the pool beneath us in a hard, painful thud. My hands reaching to your chin and pushing and bending your neck back painfully, as in the rounded edge of the well we battle for space and position once more.

Bri:

“GAHHHHHHH!!!! BLEED YOU CUNT!!!” I scream as I thrust my breasts into yours… I’m howling in your face like a wild animal as you howl into mine, both of us unable to understand each other but the pain and passion is clear in every sound we make. We both want to be free of this life. We both want to be free of this pit. We both need to destroy the other to get what we crave so desperately. You to get to your husband and kid. Me to finally begin to start the life that was taken from me.

You hands push to my chin, and your nails curl over my chin and stab into my face as you push my head back. “AAAAAAAARRRGHHH!!!” I shriek, and you shove, and we go stumbling back across the water which splashes around our warning feet. New cuts on my face bleed onto your fingers as I scream and “UWWWWWNNNNNNNNNN!!” my back goes into the rock wall… but my hands were already moving… waiting to impale you on my claws just like I did to your face when you dove on me. My right hand spears into your left breast, clawing in tightly. My left hand drops between your legs and latches onto your wet cunt… not wet from excitement… but wet from the now muddy water where we have fought and bled.

To many in the crowd, it looks like you have me bad. Markus grabs Alicja’s arms above us as I scream in pain. But Alicja has been in these pits before, and she sees the pain on your face before anyone else…. anyone except me that is…. I snarl in your face…. “I will BLEED YOU like STUCK PIG!!!” I hiss into your face as I push forward, trying to push off the wall, but in the movement I lose my footing and we go crashing down into the water below.

Carmen:

I have you trapped between my body and the wall. Looking to hurt you! Looking to bend your neck back until it weakens so that I can then smash the back of your head against the wall. I feel it coming. That moment of defenselessness. The second when your muscles are too strained to resist my pushing hands.

But your own hands come into play. Not grabbing for my wrists or matching my push, but instead latching onto my tits and my pussy only a moment before you whisper something hot and nasty.

A hiss of a sound that only we two can hear, and one comes as you launch a new gambit. One to drive off the wall, to earn more space to work. To free yourself. But your foot slips, and when it does, we collapse down to the tater together. My right hand moving from your chin to your hair to keep you from getting away from the wall, while my left moves to your equally open and defenseless pussy.

Our curled and placed fingers then digging in DEEP as we each look to ruin the others pussy. Nails scratching at soft labia, sensitive clits, and the pink walls that lay beneath each. My lips, even as they hover and hop across whimpers, cries, and moans of pain finding a way to dare you in words I hope you can make out by tone alone. “Don’t let go, bitch. We’ll see who’s cunt has suffered more….”

It is madness to ask for it. Insanity to want it. And yet the years I have spent being raped and ruined by the Romans and now the men that Alicja trades me to for the night makes me certain I can outlast you. Even as you tear at my left tit like a tigress. Blood dripping from my face to the filthy water just below our cheeks, whilst tears form in my eyes.

Bri:

We splash down into the water with a ferocious scream. If there’s any sort of head start or better position in this madness, I have it for a moment, but I know it will only last a moment. My nails are stuck into your breast and your pussy as we go crashing down into water and land on our sides. I land on my left side, you on your right. I try to roll on top of you and take the top position. The water is just barely tall enough for one of us to drown, but not high enough for so seriously impede our fight. But right now, on our sides, we’re both in danger of drowning. So I try to get on top of you, squeezing my hands and digging my claws deeper into your sensitive flesh, but you grab my hair and pull back hard and you jam your nails between my legs as well.

“AAAEEEEEIIII!!!!!!!!!” I shriek in pain as white hot light flashes before my eyes. It’s almost an instinct for my fingers to curl up, pressing inside you, and jam my nails into your inner walls. “MY PUSSY YOU FUCKING WHORE!!!!” I scream as if you understand me… as if you grabbed me first, which you definitely did not. And as you scream back at me with intensity I just…. don’t let go… I can feel it in the sound of your screaming roar…. my thumb stabs into your clit and my fingers clench tight as I can as I scream in pain myself from the way your nails rip and tear between my legs.

But I don’t let go. I keep clawing. I keep squeezing. Determined to hurt you more than you hurt me. My right hand releases your breast after raking down it viciously, tearing it in my nails and cutting you again. My hand lift as we both shake and scream and I push my palm to your face. Just like my fingers curled into your cunt. I curl my finger into your cheeks, pulling away from your teeth, fishhooking and tabbing my nails into your cheeks as my hand clenches into a fist, and my knuckles press on your gums, keeping your mouth open with my fingers as I try to push your head under the water.

Carmen:

I won’t let go. I will NEVER let go of your pussy. I will maim it. Ruin it. Ruin the only thing that has kept you alive to this point. So that even if your owner submits for you, you won’t live long enough to even make the next town or battle.

But that commitment. That oath I swear to myself, beyond reason and logic, causes me so much pain … so much anguish that I cry. I cry for you…. I haven’t cried in years. In so long I have forgotten what it feels like. Every emotion in me dead, and yet you … you have drug these droplets out of me like water from a stone.

Even more reason to hate you. Even more reason to hurt you. And yet in my quest to do just that, focusing everything I have to outlast you in this mutual pussy clawing attack, you are able to thrust into me. Once, twice, and then finally when aided by your palm and fingers pushing and clawing at my face, to send me over onto my back. Wasting not a moment thereafter, but instead crawling atop me. Even as we both continue to claw and gouge. Pinch and pry at each others womanhoods.

The pain of such viciousness making me scream, just as you submerge my head beneath the water. Bubbles escaping my lips and a muffled, gargle coming out of my mouth and to your ears when fate once more comes calling beneath the pool.

Bri:

“DIE YOU BITCH!!! DIE AND GIVE ME MY FREEDOM!!! AAARGHHHHH!!” I scream as I have one hand hooked into your mouth with my knuckles pushing on your gums and the other mauling your pussy. But you are mauling mine as well… your nails inside me…. scratching … tearing… making me cry out from some of the worst pain I have ever felt…. but I would do anything… endure anything… you’re nothing but an animal… not a woman… not a mother trying to get back to her child…. not a wife trying to get back to her husband…. an animal who can’t speak or form words but instead grunts and growls.. and animal that is maiming me… and animal that I just put down for good.

But as much as I want to maim you… as much as I want to destroy your cunt as you destroy mine… the side of your head submerging into the water… of the water rising above your lips and flowing into your mouth… is enough for me to give up the grip, and my bloody fingers fly up, grabbing for your head, trying to hold your mouth under the water because my grip with my right hand is so tedious. My left hand fights your face… your right cheek.. and my nails STAB in and tear down. And just in time… your turn your head to your left and bite into my right hand. I scream and pull my hand back screaming. My hand is bleeding and tense in pain, but my left hand is on your face, pressing my nails in, forcing your mouth more under water as your head turns to the side.

“DIE YOU MISERABLE DOGGGGGG!!!!!!!” I scream into your face as I try to slap you with my injured right hand, but the moment I do I scream in pain… ‘AAAWWWWWGGGGGGHHHHH!!!” And since I can’t slap you…. I just grab you… around the throat…. I squeeze… gripping tight… or trying… as the pain in my hand makes my fingers tense and shake in pain… just like all of me…. as our bodies have gone much farther than most women can endure.

Carmen:

It was my bet that my singular focus on your pussy would be enough. That if I could sacrifice all else to strike at your most sensitive of body parts, I could forego all else. But as seconds pass, with my face under water, I realize you are too strong. Too broken by life and slavery and that if I do not think of defense and escape, and force my way out of the water, I will be dead within a minute.

And so I bite. At anything. At everything. Turning my head and twisting my neck. Arching my back to move you forward and then to snap my teeth. First catching your fingers that were already in my mouth, and then your wrist, just as it hovered over my mouth. Each withdrawing, as from the water I explode!

Gasping for breath as I sit up, with you in my lap, with your thighs wrapped around me but not seized shut. And though I take a deep, much-needed drag of the moist, copper-flavored air, before I can take more your hands are around my throat. Choking me. Squeezing at my windpipe. Keeping me from the air I need so badly.

My vision is blurring, and dark spots begin to blind me. My lungs burning. Body shaking. And yet with my left hand still holds. Still grips. Still tears at your pussy. Meanwhile my right, moves to the back of your neck, and pulls your face forward. Your effort and anger written face. Your lips curling into a confident smile, knowing I am on the very edge of giving in to asphyxiation. But it is those lips I bite at. Sinking my teeth into the very center of not only your top, but your bottom lip. My jaw latched as might as I can make it force you to let go.

To make you give up your choke.

Another gambit. Another move of desperation. But it is all I have left.

Bri:

I think I have you… I’m on the cusp…. freedom… a life….. a fractured, broken, bruised, scarred life…. but a life outside these chains… a life…. all I must do is drown you. All I must do is finish you off. And the way the water runs into your mouth with my hand clenching at your throat, I think I am there….. I think….. but…. the pain… the unspeakable, nerves on fire pain of having my pussy mauled is wearing on me…. I can’t enjoy this moment… you are maiming me and mauling me…. I am bleeding…. and I gave up the vicious hold. I went for your throat instead… I tried to end it… instead of clawing with you woman to woman… it was the right move… I know it… if I can just…

“AAAARRGHHHHHHHHH!!!!” You grab my hand and pull it to your mouth… biting into my wrist… I SHRIEK as you jump from the water, but I still hold your throat, although only in my weakened hand. Two bites… one to each hand…. leaving my wrists paralyzed in pain… you scream and lean forward, biting hard into my bottom lips… making me scream…. your teeth sink in… piercing the skin… blood squirts from my mouth up into the air and I collapse back in pain… still screaming…. still wailing…. not only from the bite in my lip but from the never ending claws between my legs.

And you…. you cunning bitch… you wild fucking animal…. you whore… you merciless cunt…. on my back… your nails inside me…. mauling my pussy…. you just pull down… with your mouth…. pulling my lip down as you bite… forcing my mouth open and the water pushes up into my mouth. I scream and try to turn my head, but every time I turn it more water rushes in….. dark… brown…. dirt and blood filled water…. I try to scratch at you and grab your face, but the pain between my legs mixed with the bite to my lip and the water flowing in my mouth makes every attack weak….

I scream at the top of my lunges….water gurgling from my mouth… Markus stands above me…. looking at Alicja as she looks at him intently to see what he will do. He shakes his head… “like that… she’s worthless to me.” My eyes go wide. I’m not…. scared…. I’m not. I’m…. relieved…. at least it will be over…. at least it will be finished… I’ll die and whatever comes next must be better than this life… it must…. it must…. part of me is thankful… thankful that he is so cruel… thankful that he is so callous…. I will never live the life I want… but at least…. this life will be over… this nightmare… I can’t take it any more… I don’t want to live like this another day… I don’t. So thank you, Markus. Thank you.

Carmen:

My bite was meant to be a strike. A searing skewer of teeth and torn lips so that you release your choke. But you hold on. You hold on to it, even as your hands begin to shake and their strength evaporates. Not letting go of my throat as I use my upper body to press you down into the bloody water. Keeping my bite, now on only your lower lip, your top having split and slipped free, agonizing though that must have been.

There, I keep clawing. Keep maiming your clit and pussy, until I have you beneath the water. My dogged pull on your lip, tugging it down,while my free right hand moves up to your forehead and smashes it down beneath the water. Slamming the back of your head against the hard, jagged bottom of the well, as with my teeth I pry open your jaw. Aided by your screams. Your cries of pain. The nonstop assault on your pussy finally too great for you to ignore or fight through. It freezing your focus, halting your hate, and ending your endeavors other than to wail beneath the surface.

It is only those cries, and your slow, weakening choke that makes me end my attack on your pussy. End it, not out of mercy, but instead so I can crawl up your body, and pin you down. Your arms flat at your sides, and my thighs held tightly around both. My wounded breasts and yours flattened together, with their weight as anchors as I keep you pinned. Keep you beneath the waterline.

But it is not enough! Merely drowning you like this. It is not enough to have some haphazard hold that keeps you from breathing. And so, as you squirm and flail, with less and less vigor, I release my bite, and seal my lips to yours. Cupping your cheeks with my palms as I smother you. Keeping our lips sealed as you slowly expire in a hateful, malicious kiss.

Until I hear it. Alicja call to me, for the first time in my native tongue. “Markus says nothing! End her!” The words mean so many things, but most of all that I am free if I finish you. A slave no more once I have taken the last breath from your lungs.

That moment is terrible and yet beautiful. Hell and yet heaven. Joyous and yet monstrous. And though it alone should be enough to make me merciful, instead my lips curl into a snarl. A snarl and a glare.

My body lifting and pulling up from the water, and because of your right hand grabbing at your hair, you follow with me.

I will not kill you. I will not let you escape this life.

You are not worth tainting my soul before the afterlife. Instead I will leave you ruined. Without a pussy to keep you safe and alive. Without the one thing that made either of us special in this world of cruelty. Knowing that after what I had done, you will never be able to offer warmth to a man again.

A truth you would realize as I pull back from our kiss. Letting you sputter and gasp. Spasm and shake as I drag you back to the well’s wall. Sitting you up, and tying the rope lowered to me around your upper body so you cannot do what I would not.

“Suffer, bitch. Suffer and when you can run no more … die….” My words are hateful and hissed, and come just as I step on your shoulder to push myself up the rope. Climbing it as you cry and scream at me — the anguish I have left you to suffer breaking through your oxygen deprived and pain-brought stupor.

Your fate now dark and hopeless, and yet it is pleasing enough for me to finger myself to as I make the long journey home. It giving me warmth and strength enough to arrive at my door. To knock. And then when it opens, to glare.

“Hello, who are you?” Asks a tall, busty, black-haired woman. The sound of my husband and my son playing in the background.

“Ewa, who is it?” My husband asks softly, as my dreams for a peaceful, loving return home are shattered.

The End

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