Promotion Amongst Predators: Red Hot Scarlet vs. Ewa S.

Red Hot Scarlet vs. Ewa S. from FCF

Red Hot Scarlet:

I have spent LITERALLY my entire life working towards this moment. This opportunity. This one chance…. In elementary school I knew — I wanted to be a lawyer — an attorney, and to have esquire at the end of my name, like my mother. I wanted to be like her: powerful, authoritative, and wealthy. To have people whisper when I walk in a room, because someone they saw on TV and in trials in their midst. And so, I got perfect grades even when the work was beneath me. Did my homework even when the historical lessons were wrong, and the morals taught overly simplistic. I stayed late. Was a teacher’s aid. Joined every club I could, from flag, to chess, to the one about maps.

All of which led me to the right college, and then the perfect law school. There I was told it would be hard. That most would flunk out. But I dominated. Destroyed. And amazed my teachers with my understanding of concepts and issues, it took them decades to understand. Then came the BAR, and in a single try I passed, even while my friends, and even rivals failed again and again. It might have seemed like it was all easy to me, but only because I worked. Every day. Every minute. Tirelessly.

Such a tale of hard work got me a job at one of the most prestigious law firms in New York. There I have work 90 hours a week, forgetting about a social life, hobbies, and some days even seeing the sun — keeping myself buried in the law library. And though I am smarter than those of my position, quicker witted, and more successful at everything I do, I have had to rely on less than professional means to move passed my contemporaries. Deleting research, or replacing it will repealed cases. Threatening, promising, fighting, and even offering whatever I had to convince some rivals to step aside. Now there is only you. Only Ewa. The last lawyer in consideration for the promotion of a lifetime. Partner.

That is not only an assumption, but something made clear, when Ms. Grayson called me last night and told me that both you and I were not only in competition, but were being summoned together to find out the firm’s decision. Why? Why you? You’re just a body. Just a look, and nothing else! Right!? Right!? I ask myself as I pace outside the conference room, my bright red heels clicking against the pristine marble floor. But that sound is suddenly joined by the loud bing of an elevator arriving, and then its doors opening. My competition has arrived.

Ewa S.:

I didn’t come from privilege. I didn’t come from a wealthy home, nor did my parents have fancy job titles. Neither of them had an Esquire, a PhD, or even an BA. Heck, my dad was barely a Mr. He always looked puzzled whenever someone called him ‘sir’ or opened the door for him. He would stop and even argue with them, showing them his coarse hands that he was so proud of, rough from mining coal in the plant just outside my hometown of Rybnik. My ears would turn red in embarrasment, as his pleasure in being humble, seemed to me that he only wanted to embarrass me more. But that was all the drive I needed. To not turn out like him, or my mother, who dropped out of school when she was 14, cuz she was pregnant with me. They worked hard, to put me to college, buy me used books and that old dingy laptop that my dad saved up six months to get. I always smiled though, showing my gratitude, but deep inside, I vowed that I’m going to break this cycle. I’m going to get out, and never look back again.

My grades reflected my will. My dedication and determinaton. But I was not just a nerd. I was smart. I knew how to excel in and outside of the classroom. At night, I would don the highest heels and shortest skirts. I would dance my heart out swallowing all colors of pills I was offered. Moving from one boyfriend to the next. Upgrading them constantly, usually with how fancy their cars as a measure. And when I graduated college, I took the first and cheapest ticket I could buy to America. A one way ticket. I told you, I swore I would not look back, and I haven’t since.

Out of the hellhole, I began my new life. This time, as the mysterious, exotic foreign student. I got some bullshit token scholarship in Yale, something about Baltic prosecuted minorities. I didn’t actually qualify, but who could question the story of the hazel-green eyed pretty girl, putting on her most sulky face and recalling the tales of her horrid past? Nobody. My habit of switching and upgrading boyfriends continued, and if anything, it was both fun, and meant I never had to pay for rent. Always staying at their lavish Penthouses and in between, any sorority was more than happy to take me for multitudes of reason, the least of is my looks and reputation to be a cut-throat competitive bitch, who is not afraid to throwdown if need came to it. After graduation, I aced the BAR. I didn’t really know what the fuss is. I saw girls cry till they feinted, and boys punch dents into the walls, while I walked out 30 minutes early, a cocky grin on my face.

Then Holmes, Flynn, and Murdock, ranked 17th largest law firm in the US, and 33rd in the world was my first internship, I knew I was going to make it. No doubt. I stepped in, and from day one, as I stopped by the shiny plaque at the entrance of their Manhattan office, I smirked. I could imagine my name there one day. SOON. I worked for it. As hard as I could. And I wasn’t too picky about any extra-curriclar activities. Whether it was happily accepting dinner and drink invitations by my higher-ups (never my colleagues, I didn’t have the time for that bullshit), rubbing their arms suggestively every time they tossed out a smug, bad joke, or simply pulling my hair behind my neck, and getting on my knees and doing work. I didn’t care if it was a guy or a woman; although I certainly began to enjoy the latter. Something about empowered women was such a turn-on for me. Maybe because I saw myself in them.

One empowered… BITCH… though… Was not one I aspired to become. A particular pasty-skinned, red-haired SKANK who looked almost like that actress, whatever her name was, I hated their guts, by association. She was the most pesky of them all. Persistant as a roach, and slithery like a snake. I could tell she was unlike the rest. She was… too much trouble…. Too high of a risk… For now…. But as the competition got eliminated one by one, whether by natural selection or survival of the fittest, you choose; it became clearer that we were destined to clash. Heck, sometimes, seeing how Mrs. Hardway looked at us sometimes, I could swear we were being GROOMED to clash. Like two dogs being starved before their cage doors swung open, and left to go for the others throats.

And the bone they dangled with the chunk of meat on it? The partner position. The thing I worked for as hard as I could for the last 5 years since I first stepped foot here. When I was told that she was being considered as well. I almost lost it. But I kept my best straight face, smiled, and said two words; “I understand.” I saw the way Ms Hardway looked at me, almost as if she was saying ‘Do you really?’ But I did not say another word. She WILL find out, and so will you. The elevator arrives at the 38th floor. The one entirely dedicated for conference rooms. Spacious, private, with extra thick padded walls to make them sound-proof.

A lot of classified meetings take place here, and the need for secrecy is paramount. But I KNEW from personal experience that was not the only reason. They were used for some other…. affairs… that also required total privacy. My heels clicked on the marble floor, pacing down the hallway when I suddenly slowed down. Spotting the crimson-haired woman standing by the conference room door. My face remains cold, still, as I resume my walking speed, stepping next to you, I can smell your perfume. I can almost… SENSE.. your fucking aura.. and I HATE it…. I give you a cold smile and in an even chillier voice I purr; “Good evening Scarlet.” — My voice heavy still with my Eastern European accent.


Until today, I actually don’t think we have ever actually spoken, and yet still … I have lived with you on my mind almost every second since I was hired. I have heard from everyone about you. About how you’re the one in line for the promotion. About how I remind people of you. About how you’re so beautiful, and smart. About how by even thinking of wanting the partnership, I’m biting off more than I can chew…. Well fuck them! And you! GOD! Every night I would sit, and plan. Come up with scenarios to end you. To get rid of you — but the time was never right. The opportunity never truly ripe. There was always some way for you to escape. Always some out for you to take. And so I waited, and waited. And now it’s too late. Here we are, standing shoulder to shoulder.

Between us, I can feel electricity sparking and a flame burning. I can hear it in your snotty foreign accent: you know. Not just that we are both up for this promotion, but that we are enemies. To the core. And so when you say it, “good evening, Scarlet”, I almost vomit. Not because you’re disgusting, but because I have never wanted to hurt anyone more. Literally thousands of hours of work, sweat, and tears of mental exhaustion all ride on me besting you in this chase for a promotion. You are the only thing that stands in the way of me becoming what my mother was, and what I have always wanted to be. It is that fact, and desire that make me turn to you. “Don’t….” I say plainly, though I give you no chance to accept it as such. “Don’t fucking stand her and pretend.” I say as I turn towards you, my cleavage exposing black cotton dress, pressing into your top as I lean in. “I will do anything for this promotion. ANYTHING. And there is THING a gutter rat like you can do about it….” My every word is coated in venom, and my eyes burn with a sincerity, anger and hatred that can only be forged by a carefully nurtured grudge.


Standing opposite each other, I purr the words, when the strange sensation just swarms my mind… Is this… the first time we’ve ever talked to each other?? Did we truly and thoroughly avoid each other, as if acknowledging each other existence would open Pandora’s box that neither of us was willing to peek into until this moment? — I feel a shudder traveling up my spine, as your pretty blue eyes glance up and look at me. Something about redheads and those primal, catty gazes just scar your soul, and as you glare, I gaze back at you, defiantly, hearing your snappy response, that causes my eyes to flare open. Not only by the words, the hostility, or even by the physical posture of your chest leaning and pressing into my own. No. But by the venom-dripping from every syllable and word. With the true hatred that marks every gesture and octave of your voice. My nostrils flare, and I glare intensely into you.

Unlike you, I’m dressed in a rather traditional office attire. A white silk blouse, enough buttons undone to show my tanned, superior cleavage. So much so that the frilly edges of my white lacey bra are teasing themselves out. The black skirt is unusually long by my standards, going down to my ankles, but it’s slit up the middle, up to mid-thigh length and showing the black sheer stockings, and the hing of the garterbelt. My 4″ heels blurring the lines of ‘too much’ and ‘too sexy’ at once, whie making my calves look so damn perfect. “I…. see…” I purr back, glaring at you, and in total defiance I half turn, so that our chest are just… PRESSING into each other… I’m not a big girl…. I’m only 5’4″ 118lbs…. But I’m fit and strong… And my body was not just sculpted in the gym, but doing… other things too…. “… Just… please… don’t flatter yourself and think I was pretending to be friends…. I was just being.. civil… But as long as we’re speaking our hearts out, then just know that….” — CLICK….

The door to the conference room opens and there stands Ms Hardway. Tall, Amazonian even, with her softly curled blonde hair. Her red business suit making her lipstick pop. And she sees us standing like this, chest to chest, and nose to nose…. My eyes gaze to her, then back to you… And instead of changing the subject… I drive home the point that i’m not pretending by… CONTINUING… Same tone… Same hiss; “…. just know that, I would tear a dumpster skank like you limb from limb… And leave her bleeding our like a roadkill, before letting YOU get this promotion…” My voice trembling with passion and intensity…. Ms Hardway’s grin widening as she purr; “Well well well. I see that… There is no need for me to make any introductions… Please girls… Come in…. I’m ready for you….” — She purrs the words, then adds as she backs away and gives us a quick up’n’down… “… and it seems you two are just about ready for each other…”

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(Scarlet: You are so incredible it kills me!)

Not for a second did I think you would back down from my challenge, and you didn’t let me down, leaning back into me, and preparing yourself to tell me exactly what you think of me. I’m ready for it. To hear your curling foreign tongue lambast me with whatever curses you have whispered as you fell asleep with my blazing red hair in your mind’s eye. My plan, was for you to be forced to back down, just as the door opened. To get in your head, and then deny you the chance to retort until our mutual employer, and keeper of our dreams has finished whatever speech she has planned. God it will be amazing to watch you squirm. To watch the knife twist in your ba….

In a single second, my plan is laid in tatters, as the beautifully carved wooden doors to the conference room opens, Ms Hardway walks out, and then……… continue. ‘…. just know that, I would tear a dumpster skank like you limb from limb… And leave her bleeding our like a roadkill, before letting YOU get this promotion…’ The rage. The fury. The absolute shock. YOU BITCH! GOD! FUCKING! UURRRRGGGHHH!!! I spiral internally, my eyes growing wide, while a red hot, burning hatred for you setting aflame in my gut. Then, to make things even worse and more infuriating, like the bitchy, fucking whore you are, you turn from me, and start to walk into the room, claiming victory through nonchalance. I see Ms Hardway say something, but the words I cannot hear over the pounding of my adrenaline fueled heart.

Driven beyond the point of madness, I let out a primal, enraged scream: “AAARRRRGGGGHHHH”, and then grab two handfuls of the back of your hair, and with them, drag you into the conference room forcefully. “I’ll FUCKING kill you!” I screech, as the doors shut behind us, each guided by our employer — a woman who wanted exactly this, our battle, as her final examination to determine who gets to be a partner in one of New York’s most prestigious law firms, and who gets the partner’s assistant.


(Ewa: Fuck you. You just bring out the worst in me! Let’s see if your nails can pierce my skin as well as your words pierce my mind… Ughhh… this will be HELL I know it.)

The thing with redheads… Besides their rare, unique beauty…. And infamous temper… Is their skin…. How perfectly pale… To that degree of immaculate Vampiric beauty…. But skin like as beautiful it may be, has two flaws… it… MARKS easy… And it makes it impossible for you to hide your emotion… I can practically see it rapidly recolor into a rosey blush. And it makes me GRIN seeing you like that… And as Ms Hardway invites us in, I twist and I… BUMP…. My left breast into your own left…. Your breasts are large, full, and more than a handful, but still, mine are bigger. And at this moment I am going to flaunt and press EVERY advantage I might have. I smirk at Ms Hardway, like the superioir cat that I am and step into the room. It takes me only two steps into the boardroom, the heels clicking on the Italian marble to hear the STORM clattering behind me, and the deep, guttural ROAR!

My eyes glance up at Ms Hardway’s face, and I see the GRIN on her face, and I try to spin, but there is no time. I feel the BUMP of your body into mine, and the fingers sinking into my hair. PULLING and SHRIEKING. ‘I’LL FUCKING kill you!’ The roar filling my ears as I screech in pain; “AIIIEEHHHH!!” My eyes shut as I twist, lucky for me your fingers don’t grab my hair too close to my scalp, or it would have made my spin impossible, but yet, even as I do you pass me and start to YANK dragging me further into the room as Ms Hardway quickly swings the door shut and turns the lock with a click. Sealing us into this soundproof…. CAGE… Like two animals.. Like those two rabid DOGS that got unleashed…. And you get the jump on me and it both infuriates me, but mostly at MYSELF to leave the opening like this….

I grimace, twisting and I reach for your hair but you WHIP me harder by the hair, dragging me in. And my heels clatter. So I swing wildly, sending a hard left SMACKKK into the your right side, just above your hip… My right hand swinging and it nails the outside of your left arm…. You shake me again and I CRINGE in pain, my left heel slipping and I almost stumble out of control. But I swing my left again and this time, I feel my palm CRACKING into the bulging side of your right breast… And my fingers LATCH to it… It’s coverd with both the black dress and bra beneath but I grip and SQUEEZE hard, trying to lead with my nails, hissing; “Not if I KILL you first WHORE!!!” I roar and PUSH my body into yours, our chests bumping, heels clattering, as my right arm reaches around you, gripping your red hair by the back and I yank straight DOWN!


As I tug and yank you into, and then around the conference room, my lips curl into an evil, self-satisfied grin. You fired the first blow between us, but I stole your moment of triumph right out from beneath you, all as Ms Hardway watched. Despite my best efforts to savor such a theft, you rain a hail attacks down on me, each made in desperation as I keep you from gaining your footing. But even as you stumble, your left-handed slap lands and hurts, then that same hand hits, latches on, and then squeezes my tit, causing me to scream out in pain. Before I can even understand that pain, come to grips with it, and then counter attack, our bodies suck together, as if two magnets, who are scientifically predisposed to war.

In our right embrace I feel your giant tits smother my own, while threatening to push me back. A direction I find myself moving in doubly so, as you reach for my hair and tug my head back hard. Not willing to be outdone by you, and using every ounce of strength I can muster, I yank back at yours, each of us bending the others heads and bodies backwards, until our chins meet between us, our bodies quaking with effort. “…fuck…you…bitch….” I mutter, as I try to resist the force of your body pressing into mine, and your pull on my hair. But not willing to just exist, and persist, I raise my right leg, angle my high heel, and then drive and dig it into the inside of your thigh so fucking hard I can feel my pretty red shoe approach its breaking point. When it holds however, I then drag it down your soft, sexy thigh, down the back of your knee, and only let it drop back to the floor, after pressing it all the way down your muscular calf.


(Ewa: Nngghh… you CUNT! Fucking horrid CUNT!)

(Scarlet: Feel it! Love it!)

Ms Hardway’s eyes gleam. Deep emeralds in her prim and proper face, and her tongue literally slips out, wetting her bottom lip, watching the mayhem ensue. She has made a career of cultivating these rivalries. To breed the hatred and competitive desire between all the young aspiring attorneys, bring them against each other. To test their mettle, and find who truly is willing to go all the way. It’s rare that things get physical. More often than enough psychological pressure causes one to snap and quit. Opting for private practice or getting and MRS degree and pumping out a couple of kids, convincing herself that her life is ‘full’ now. But out of those rivalries that got to the point of blows, she has never felt as eager and curious to see who is going to be left standing when the dust settles between her two favorite understudies. And from the first moment, my verbal jar and your vicious, feline pounce, she knows that this is going to be… destructive… One of us, if not both, will not be the same after this. But she has no intention whatsoever of interfering, or even slowing us down.

Our stumble in the middle of the room suddenly changing trajectory, and we begin to move away from the conference table, with me pushing you one step at a time towards the wall. All until your hands pull DOWN at my hair and I CRY out in pain, my back arching. Two grips are better for control than one, and you not only bring me to a halt, but begin to slowly bend me back. My hip grinding into yours, the front of my blouse rubbing against your dress, the friction alone causing two more buttons to pop free at the top, exposing more of my white bra, as the blosue itself begins to creep out of the skirt, showing a thin film of my tanned and toned abs. But it’s your vicious, nasty heel attack that makes me SCREAM bloody murder! Balancing on one leg, despite this intense struggle, you take your tie to PUSH the heel IN, not only piercing my stocking but denting my skin and then RAKE it down. Dragging down slicing the stocking in a long, 15″ slice, and leaving my flesh beneath exposed, and with it, the ugly long welt the heel left in it’s wake…. “AHHIIIEEEE!!!!”

I cry out in absolute pain, my right leg buckling, turning into a wet noodle as you twist us and PUSH me hard slamming my body into the wall, and your body crashing into mine a split second later…. The impact so hard it sends a little plaque bearing the founders names off the nail and to crash into the floor…. I grimace in pain, feeling your strength, and the…. blood… running down the inside of my thigh…. My eyes filling with tears… “Nngghhh… Dirty… CUNT… I will… kill you….” I hiss, my left releasing your breast, and I bring it up, pressing my nails just INTO your bottom lip, while my right keeps your head tucked back, and I slowly…. methodically, start to draggggg my nails down your lips, chin, under chin, and the front of your throat, determined to NOT stop until I reach your collar bone…. My right leg, aching in pain, moves up a bit, and I press the tip of my 4″ heel atop your left shoe and I GRIND down, twisting my foot, trying to flatten and hurt your damn toes.

(Ewa: Oh… I fucking LOVE it bitch… Let’s see how much LOVE you can handle…. Grrrr)


Again I have found a way to one-up you! Breaking our chin-to-chin, hairpulling stalemate with a perfectly placed heel drag. In reaction to such an attack you lose your footing, your force, and with ease I slam you back into the wall, knocking placards and certificates off the wall. I open my mouth to taunt you, all as my body presses into yours, our breasts from both sides of the spectrum meet, mash, and betray at least my own rock-hard erect nipples. In that press I have you, even though you still tug at my hair. And though it seems like a pause in our so far insane, violent, battle. Neither of us have slowed a step, nor reached a plateau. In fact every muscle in our bodies strain against each other. Our breath ragged. Our hearts pounding. I want to destroy you. Ruin you. Get revenge for everything you have ever done that has made me hate you. Every night I spent cursing your name, and dwelling on our unspoken rivalry. To make you beg me for forgiveness. And for the briefest of moments, as I hold you between my body and the wall, I feel enough dominance over you for a flood of endorphins to rush through my body.

A flood which hits, and distracts, just as you dig your nails into my lip. It hurts, but I can stand it. It wounds, but I can resist it, and keep this moment of dominance, I feel. But then … as I think of what to do to you, I feel you stab your heel into my foot. So violent is your stomp, that your heel actually drives through my shoe, smashing down into and between my middle toes, causing me to relent almost entirely, yelping in agony, as my body goes limp against yours as I try to fight through the pain. “…biiiiiiiiiiiiittcchhh….” I almost whisper, as my moment of ascendancy fades into yours.

( Scarlet: OMG This is so brutal, I LOVE IT!)

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The emerald eyes go wide, watching in sheer joy and sadism the vicious tangle before her. Her own mind flashing back to nearly two decades ago, when she herself was in a very similar lock up, against her back then rival and nemesis. A little smirk of pride curls on her lips, even as her right hand instinctively move down to brush the underisde of her right breast, where a scar from that night remains. A souvenir, a reminder. But right now, the two of us have almost forgotten her presence.

We are just LOST in our mutual hate. My thighs tensed, my skirt flared open at the front slit, the blood slowly running down my thigh, dripping off and leaving tiny little crimson dots on the marble floor. But despite that, I still sink my nails into your bottom lip, scratching, gouging at your heel and I feel your body shudder, your voice curdling with a low growling curse… But you don’t stop.. You keep… GRINDING your body into mine… My blouse now fully tugged out of my skirt, with only two buttons left open, the front of my white lacey bra brushing against your dress, and while Hardway can’t see it, you must feel the stiffness of my nipples. Both confusing and enraging me further.

“…. How do you like… THIS… whore…” I snarl into your face, twisting my heel painfully on your toes, and I slowly pull my left claw down, softly dragging and stretching your bottom lip down towards your jaw, to its limit, then my claws proceed and your lip snap back into place, while my nails begin to softly peel the skin towards your chin. Growling. I PUSH my ass into the wall and SHOVE my body into yours, my right pulling on your hair wildly, while I try to fulfil my intent and rake my nails down your undechin and neck, bumping and stumbling. An obvious limp in my right leg that causes us to spin and spiral, heading towards the large black leather reception couch. The one Ms Hardway is leaning lazily against its arm!

(Ewa: Mrrooowrwrr…… Yes whore. Let’s get vicious… nasty… catty…. and brutal… let’s fucking see who wants this more… and who IS the better catfighter between us… Come on Scarlet… COME FUCKING ON…. SHOW ME WHAT YOU GOT CUNT)

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All I could think about was your stomp, and your heel digging into my toes. Toes which I can feel and you can see bleeding as I pull my foot back, and out of my heel. God the pain was so intense, I could think of nothing else! But as it fades, then I feel another, terrible pain. Your claws, rending flesh with every centimeter they travel from my lower lip down. I can picture it like the shavings from a sharpened pencil, my skin coming off under your nails. With every second of such punishment, I let out one long, sustained whimper, making me sound pathetic, but I can do nothing else. At least, I not at that moment, frozen by the pain.

In my moment of dismay, you use your ass to push yourself and our tangled mess of bodies off the wall, and send us into a spin, out into the room and towards not only a couch, but Ms. Hardway. As me approach, she moves silently, like a cat, and moves to a position behind the couch, waiting for us to land on its cushions in front of her. What hell I have found myself in. Tortured by my rival, while my boss, and our judge watches me get destroyed. NO! I CAN’T LET IT BE! I tell myself, as my focus turns back to offense, or some form of it, odd as it may be. Odd in that I reach out with my arm, grab your tit-stressed bra, and then drop. Not lower, or low, but completely to the floor and between your legs, yanking your bra off your body, taking it with me. Without me, though with my blood and flesh under your nails, and remnants of the red leavings of my heel, you crash into the couch face-first, directly below Ms. Hardway’s scrutinizing eyes.

Quickly I stand, intent on leaping on you. Tackling you! POUNCING AGAIN! But as soon as I put pressure on my injured foot, I collapse forward. Not back to the floor, or next to you, but atop you in a clump. Each of looking like fools in front of Ms. Hardway. Despite that embarrassing failure to capitalize, I reach into your hair with both hands, and pull your head back, only to then whisper into your ear. “Fucking, slut…. Choke….” I demand, as I try to wrap your own bra under your head and around your throat.

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(Ewa: Ughhh.. You nasty TRAMP!)

(Scarlet: Got your bra! And now your breath, cunt!)

(Ewa: Grrrrrr!!! Oh, you’ll see bitch… You’ll fucking see!
I hate, HATE to admit it… but you’re good bitch… ugghhh…
But, I’ll show you Scarlet… I’ll fucking end you… if it’s the last thing I do!)

(Scarlet: As good as we are, we’ll be lucky to escape this fight with our lives)

Hardway is watching. Emerald eyes wide. Grinning. As her two subordinates tear into one another. The carrot dangled before us, sure, but she truly wonders if we even NEEDED this motivation to get at each other… And truth to be said… I know I didn’t… I’ve fucking hated you for years… From the day I’ve seen you… Your pretty face… Your exotic red hair… your spotless skin… Your pouty fully lips… And that BITCHY gaze in your eyes… I’ve hated you since I saw the Maseratti you drive… And the red soles of your Louboutin’s…. Everything about you, screamed privilege.. and an entitlement… The antithesis of my past life… And for that alone.. I hated you… The fact that everyone talked about you… Every conversation dominated by your praise… Or even the hush-hush ones in the girls room about what you did to this girl, or how you caused that girl to quit. It all made you my natural enemy. And it’s prime time for us to settle this. With or without the promotion.

Staggering across the room. My claws dragging down your chin, I scratch and see your perfect skin split, peel under my nails. Fuck I will have to pull the skin off from under my nail beds soon before they get too dull to scratch. When you just trip and fall. Or so I assume. I almost even grin, when I realize the grip you have on my bra, the one PULLING me as you use your body to tackle me and I fall face first into the couch.. I cryin pain as my knees hit the marble floor hard. And I moan, shell shocked from the fall, I moan for few seconds when I feel your weight CRASHING on my back…. Your weight further causing my now naked breasts to GRIND into the leather couch, and a yank on my hair causes me to yelp, feeling your crotch grinding on my ass, and the bra wrapping around my throat.

My eyes go wide as you pull hard. And the thin middle clasp bites into my flesh. I gasp and gap. My eyes going wide, as I reach with instinct, grabbing at the clasp trying to free myself. I see from the corner of my eyes, Ms Hardway moving in sight, a grin on her face, watching how my tanned cheeks are turning crimson, and my lips turn blue. How my tongue lols out, choking with my hated rival on my back. My thumbs push into the strap. And I wish I wore one of those front-clasped bras today. But no, I went with a regular one. My thumbs slide along the strap. Gasping, my own nails grazing my skin, scratching my own throat, but I have to. I have to to reach that metal link in the middle, the one pressing into my windpipe and as I find it. I ja my nails into it.. I can feel my left nail breaking against the metal. And I cuss, but I twist my fingers and the strap comes loose. “HARRGGHHH!!!” I gasp for air, groaning, the choke broken, but you are STILL on my back.. My arms shoot back, and I jam my nails into where your face is.. It’s easy to find, with the loud cusses and screams leaving it… And I press that broken, jagged thumb nail into your skin and RAKE wildly.

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I can feel it building within me. Churning within me. Something that almost seems to take control. A malice, driven by hatred.

You are my chimera, a creation of humankind, one that represents all dangers: predator cats, dragons, attack birds….

And so when your bra wraps around your throat, my lips curl into an evil grin. I have you, and I will end you. Right here. Right now. In front of Ms. Hardway. Taking your every last breath, and defeating in one single stroke all of my monsters. All the dangers that are left in my world. But as I tighten my grasp on the fabric of your bra, and move to pull as tight as I can, Ms. Hardway leans in. “She’s so impressive, isn’t she, Scarlet?”

Her words sink into my heart like a dagger, and cause me to look up at her with the hurt of a jealous child in my eyes. Eyes which your nails almost stab into, as you launch a counteroffensive — one that comes after you have broken the bra, a fact I missed as our mutual gatekeeper spoke.

“AAARRRGGGHHHH” I cry out, before I almost leap off of you, backwards. I try to land on my feet, planning to move back and away from you as I blink rapidly, to clear my vision, but again when I land on my foot I collapse — now almost certain that my toes are broken. With that knowledge I land in a heap, just behind your legs, and bent over body; my hands covering my eyes, as I roll back and forth, left and right. A mess. A vulnerable one.

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I’m croaking… Gasping… Drool running down my lips, and chin, and pooling on the leather of the couch… My naked breasts are grinding into the cushion, your weight, even as it fell off is still causing me to hack and gasp… I’ve heard her words… How she fucking teased… almost TAUNTED you about me, while you had my life between your fucking fingers… I felt the effect it had on you.. The fury and rage as you pulled harder, trying to almost use the bra like a piano wire and slice my head off… She’s… She’s the DEVIL… And she surely is not looking for our interests… But am I truly that naive to think that she was??? To her, we’re two hens in a cockfighting ring… with razors attached to our feet, and she’s trying to settle a mental bet to herself on who will cut the other down first….

I rub my neck massaging it, gasping for air… Taking the brief respite for a second…. Even though every inch of my mind is SCREAMING at me… “GET UP.. TURN AROUND… SHE IS STILL BREATHING… AND THUS YOU ARE IN DANGER!!!” But feeling the.. DENTS… the strap left in my neck…. are just horrifying… I half a demi-collar imprinted in the front half of my neck now from your choke…. And that means neck scarves for weeks to just hide it…. But I know that if this affair doesn’t end soon, we’ll be wearing Ski-masks into the spring…..

I turn on my knees, my beasts pulling off the leather couch and I feel them peel off, making a small sound like duct take being peeled off, turning to you and I see you laying there in a heap, rubbing your face… My nails must have gotten lucky, close to your eyes… Your dress is still intact… But its skirt is hiked up, showing your pale, thick thighs…. I might have bigger breasts, but you sure have the fuller lower half… The bottoms of your ass revealed in their lacy panties… And I grimace and I just… DROP down on you… I don’t pounce.. I don’t go for a straddle.. I just drop my body down, my chest smacking into your left thigh… Pinning it down.. My left hand reaching to grab your right ankle…. to hold your leg and.. spread you… sufficiantly…. While my hand reaches to grab the front of your panties… Balling my fist around the fabric I growl and PUSHHHH it up… stretching it upwards and using it to saw into your sex and crack…. My hand sliding up over your hip… up until it’s almost at your belly button, further pulling your dress up… But as I’ doing that, my face reaches down, into the inside of your right thigh opening my mouth and I burrow my teeth into the tender, pale flesh at the inside of your right thigh… The sharp pain in mmy own bleeding inner right thigh from your heel attack FRESH… I clamp my teeth and BITE… GRRR…


A flurry! An enraged, focused attack! A straddle, and you grabbing my tits, and twisting. Those are what I expected — what I foresaw when your fingers drove in and fell behind you.

With that expectation, of a revived, demented, revenge-seeking Ewa, your fall atop me, which I see as my vision clears, almost comes as a relief. Maybe you’re too tired. Too breathless to hurt me.

Such foolish beliefs find themselves quickly shattered, as you grab my panties and start to saw. Back and forth. Up and then up again. Further and harder with every tug.

Suddenly my lips part in a pained whimper and moan; the former from pain, and the latter from something else entirely — a scratched itch, one might say. But then your teeth sink into my thighs — thighs which are surprisingly thick, given my otherwise svelte upper body.

Such a bite curdles my moan into a scream, one that Iet fly into the silence of the conference room, just as my arms reach down, and my palms press into you. My left on the side of your abdomen, and my right on your shoulder. There they shove — push, but only weakly so, as I am in no condition to move you off of me, not are you so situated to be affected by such attempts.

One effort after another, I give, trying to get you off of me — needing you to release your bite and stop your painful sawing of my panties across my confusingly excited clit. With all else having failed, I use my abs to pull myself into a seated position, with you almost laying in my lap. Then, and from there, I reach around you, on either side.

On one, I dig my left hand between your sexy thighs and grab claw-full of panties, digging my nails into the flesh that lies beneath. Then, with my right hand, I bury my nails into your cheek, and as you did before, drag them, painfully down your face.

Neither move puts any pressure on your jaw, or tries at tearing away your grip on my panties, but instead leaves us there, on the floor of this near empty conference room, hurting each other. Torturing each other.

For what, we would ask if we were sane. Why, we would question were we not so invested in our hate for each other. And so, locked together in such a way, I close my eyes, and scream out in pain, trying to turn all that anguish into force, which I apply to you.

While I do, Ms. Hardway, walks over to a space just in front of you, lowers herself to the floor, and then whispers in your ear, in a sensual, sincere voice. “Scarlet would make such a lovely partner, don’t you think?”


“HRRRRRUUUGGHHHHHH!!!” Nothing but a growl… Nothing but an animalistic… Deep… Guttural sound leaving my lips…. I am more animal than woman right now… And I am JUST FINE with it… I need to be… I fucking NEED to be this animal, to take you down… and out…. I’ve been in countless battles growing up… Back home in Poland when I had nothing.. I had to fight to get anything.. Be it a boyfriend…. Money…. Or heck… Even for the hell of feeling the rare pleasure of being ‘in control’ for a brief moment… Something my life naturally lacked… But none of them felt like this… never had I hated anyone THIS LONG and not done anything about it…… Never have I had anything at all on stake to worry about besides my looks… Now… I do have a lot to lose… And now… i find myself fighting a fucking DEMONESS in human flesh….

My hand tugs, yanks, tugs and stretches at your panties… I try to not over do it… Anymore… and they will rip.. But I want them intact… I want them to keep hurting.. sawing into you.. I want them to split your labia… I want them to cut you in half as long as I can… And my teeth… They latch to that bit on the inside of your thigh… Where there is just that little bit of fat… That bit of flesh soft enough for my teeth to bite in…. And I gnaw… I growl and bite.. salivating over the wound.. Gnawing.. But as I do… You sit up, and begin to claw at my face…. You grip my panties and you CLAW into my sex… My eyes go wide and I cry out, but I renew the bite… But you don’t let go… Your body curled over me, almost around me, as we torment each other… Your digits gouging at me… My tears roll… In pain.. In frustration.. My thighs close, twist, buck, but your fingers keep reaching back.. keep finding the soft targets… and then I hear Hardway’s voice and I ROAR out in pain and frustration…

I pull back and jam my right elbow into your chest, pushing you back and off me, as I drop backwards and toss my legs up in the air, rolling head over heels and I flop on my front… gasping as I press my palms and shins into the carpet…. And like a serpent… Or rather, like Gollum in Lord of the Rings I begin to slither away from you… Panting… Sobbing…. My eyes fixated on you… My breasts leaving a sweaty trail on the marble in their path.. But as I rise up to my knees… My right stocking ripped… My garterbelt hanging to nothing on that side.. My panties wedged into my sex… SHe can see it.. Your thong… Ripped off and held in my right hand as I toss it to the side… My hands slowly pulling my soaked, rolled up blouse off and I throw it away… Panting, as I slowly rise up to my feet… My fingers flicking the zipper of my skirt… It’s too wound up, it WILL become an issue soon… I need to think ahead, to save it any further damage so I have something to wear on my way out… And I let it fall to my feet.. In only my thong, garters, torn stockings and heels I rise up… My face scratched and clawed… My teeth clenched I hiss; “She would.. But only if you want to carry your partner around in a matchbox… Because when I’m done with her, the lastest chunk of BITCH that she is would fit in one…”

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Though I would never willingly admit it, but every second I spent there, with you, each of us lavishing pain and agony on the other, I was waiting for it to end — begging — PRAYING. It felt like an eternity, though it may have been less than a minute.

But finally, when you throw your elbow back, and slam it into my breast, knocking me back, you relent, and roll away. When you do I try to stand, to chase you, but in exhaustion I make it only to my knees, before stopping, and placing my hands on my thighs, as my chest heaves for breath.

I watch you, and see you crying. A shining beacon of joy, amongst all this pain I feel, one that is put out in a puff of smoke as I realize I am crying to. But crying isn’t the word. Sobbing.

That realization fills me, for the first time, with doubt. Fear. Maybe for the first time in any of my fights. My expression tells you.

My eyes, wet, and softening, show you. And knowing each, I look away, and to the ground. Ashamed that I would let you see anything but strength. Anything but ferocity. But how could I feel any other way. Each of us hate. Each of us want to hurt. But now. Now that’s we’re trapped here, fighting. With no escape. No option but to fight till one of us ends the other as a threat, the weight of it is oppressive and terrifying.

Such thoughts run through my mind as I close my eyes, and breath, only to stand a moment later. There, as I do, I open my windows to the soul, and see you disrobing. I don’t know why you do it — your plan or strategy being unknown to me.

And yet still, unwilling to lose ground to you in anyway, I reach down, grab the bottom of my black dress, and peel its sweat-wetted cloth up and over my head. Then, with it in my hand, and kicking off my last heel, I stand nude — completely.

As you take in the view, I, in a fit of frustration and rage, brought about by your comment about how you will leave me, throw my dress at you, trying to make up for my show of weakness — of frailty.


Strategy or Panic… You may never know… Hardway might never either…. But right now…. I’m still feeling the effects of having my own threads wedged into my throat… Cutting at my flesh… Tearing into me and almost, so perfectly… Choking me out…. At this moment I realize the frailty of my so-called-armor… And the danger that you pose to me…. I toss it away.. Feeling.. more naked than ever… My breasts heaving… Gleaming with sweat… A tiny river of which seeping down my cleavage, streaming into my belly button and down, to further soak my white panties… Which further discolors them than my own seeping nectar is…..

And right now…. I know that I am seeping… Despite the aches filling my labia from your nasty, vicious claw hold… Despite feeling the phantom claws still wedged into my sex…. I can feel the slow, yet steady flow of my honey…. Not out of love… Not out of arousal… But out of sheer… CONFUSION… When pain is reaching such a high point, unprecedented… When the emotions are blasting a hole in their thresholds… And all I feel is.. lust… BATTLELUST…. One that you make damn sure to send to the next level, reaching down and pulling your dress up… revealing that you ddn’te even have a bra on to start with… My lips move on their own, as I gaze at your alabaster frame of feminine perfection… At those thigh thighs.. taut abs… rosey hairless sex… and I muoth out… “… bitch…”

Hardway looks at you, slowly moving behidn you, her tall frame, augmented by her heels making her tower over you, her fingers touching your shoulders and my eyes go wide, as she runs her fingers down your arms… your sides and hips and says; “Magnificent… Don’t you think Ewa??? Such… perfection….” My eyes go wide…. To me… She was nothing but an overbearing boss… A tool for me to get to my goals…. But now… I feel it in the bottom of my heart… Jealousy.. Deep.. Raw.. primal… PITCH BLACK jealousy… And with a soft roar.. I bent my legs, and I pluck my own heels off… one.. then another.. Awwwwww… my sex hurts as I bend my legs that way… But I try.. I TRY to not show it.. .despite the two streams of tears running down my body… And sticking my thumbs inside my garterbelt first… then my thong.. I slowly peeeeel them down my hips… thighs, letting the straps take care of pulling my stockings down as I pull one leg, then the other out… My left foot getting stuck in the stockings, but I STOMP on it with y bare right foot and I jerk my leg UP violently, pulling it out, as I stand opposite you.. Bare…. Wearing nothing but my tears, sweat, and blood….. No more games…. No more play… This… Ends… NOW…

(Ewa: Ice Queen… A title I prided MYSELF of bearing for years… But I see I’m not the only one… Fine by me Scarlett… Let’s fucking settle it… Let’s see whose flames burn stronger… And whose ice will.. MELT…. in a puddle of her tears, sweat, cum, and blood…..)


Maybe you’re too caught up in the pain, your hate for me, or the curves of my beautiful body, but you give no reaction to my momentary loss of confidence, or perhaps you ignored it, fearing it was a trap. Either way, my eyes are keen, and I am not willing to let a possible advantage drift out of my grasp when I find it.

And so, when Ms. Hardway runs her soft hands down my body, I press back into her, bending at just the right angle for my perfectly round ass to match the curve of her hips. Letting her breasts press into my back, and bulge for you to see them.

And laying my head back on her shoulder, while raising my left hand, and gently stroking her outer cheek. Yes, Ms. Hardway is attractive. Yes, I would fuck her for no reason, or any reason. But my show is not for her, but for you.

For I can see the jealousy in your eyes. The surging hatred, and Ms. Hardway sees it to. And so as I press into her, she melts into me, kissing my cheek and neck softly. Sensually. Her left hand making it appear that she will finger me right there in front of your eyes, even as mine stay locked on yours.

When I see it. You reach your plateau of escalated passion, I yank away from Ms. Hardway as if she were nothing, and lunge at you. Arms outstretched. Fingers spread. And mouth open, and letting loose a banshee scream.

Mid-air I feel every bit of it. Your terrible bite on my inner thigh. My luckily recovering toes. My pussy, both throbbing from an unexpected desire, and the damage you did to it with your panties.

The claw marks drug from my bottom lip down to my chest. All of it hurts. Especially as tears, only now stopping, slide down my body and infect each with even greater pain. But they won’t stop me, just like your wounds won’t stop you. The end approaches for one of us. We both know it. We both feel it. Though neither of us will ever be the same again.


I see it. And my heart outright. Stops. I fucking see it. The way you lean into her. Press. Grinding your body against her. As if you are THE maiden in this conflict The seductress. The prize. I see her breasts bulge sideways from the pressure. Your fingers on her cheeks. Her lips on your neck. And I almost burst at the seams. No. No. You won’t have her. You just… WON’T. I screech and take a STEP forwards, one that reveals the extend ot pain your nails inflicted to my crotch with an aching yelp of pain. One that prompts you to CHARGE forwards two steps and then LEAP. You leapt, because probably if you kept stumbling towardsme. Your toes, your thigh. Your body would have betrayed you. So you leap. Hardways eyes widen with a gleeful look on her face, staring at your naked, sweaty back. Your large round buttocks and thighs. Your arms outstretched. And the sound of our sweaty, chests COLLIDING, as you descend on me!

Outright. The impact sends me reeling. Outright I feel your left claw jam into my right side. And your right arm wrap around me, and the nails bite into my further away shoulderblade. Outright I feel your weight taking me down and my foot slipping on the marble. Too much sweat, makes it slippery. Outright I crash to my ass with you atop of me. I cry out in pain, but there is no time. I swing my arms, drag my claws, I snap my teeth. I buck and thrust. I do it all. I DO… And then I analyze the results.

And the results, are pure chaos. My teeth  snap on nothing but your hair. I feel it I TASTE the crimson curls in my teeth and yet, I clamp on them and pull my head back, trying to use my teeth and neck muscles to tear a clump off. My left claw landing on your right butt cheek. My right, at the back of your neck. My nails bite in and I thrust up. My right thigh slipping up between yours. The bloody gasp on the inside of mine, rubbing against the bite mark on the inside of yours. And despite the tremble of pain that we both sense we. CLENCH our thighs around the other. My left leg going out and curling around your hip as I BUCK and use your momentum to roll us head-over-heels, landing atop of you.

Hardway’s eyes go wide, watching us tumble, crash. The flip and the legs curling around the other. Me getting ontop, before you buck and send us rolling to the right, tangled, rolling fiercely. Breasts grinding. Tanned flesh against pale. Rolling non-stop. Trading top positions. Claws wedged into flesh. And a moan leaves her lips. Her left hand pulling her skirt up, her right hand slipping inside her own SOAKED panties, index finger trailing over her own labia and teasing her clit. 


As I knew it would be, my lunge leads to madness — utter and complete. As my smaller tits, landing on top of yours, and our naked bodies meet, unrestrained, we fall to the floor. As I try to gather myself, and decide on a tactic to unleash, you lash out: biting, grabbing, clawing….

Your left hand grabbing at my ass, and dragging me forward into you, even as you try to wound. Your right hand lands on the back of my neck, again pulling me closer to you, our faces so close I can taste your hot heaving breath.

And your teeth, somewhere in the maelstrom latching onto my bright red hair, and yanking. Tugging. Even as our lips are within centimeters of each other. Then, our thighs cross and interlock, fusing my inner thigh wound with yours, ina  press of wet and dried blood, hanging flesh, and pain.

And though it hurts, so very bad I can’t even describe it, I gasp loudly, unmistakably, with lust. I don’t know why. I can’t explain it. But our two mutually agonizing wounds meeting, each which we have forced upon the other, drives me insane.

As I deal with that, trying to focus my mind and efforts, you roll us, up and over, and your free leg wraps around my hip. In desperation, even as we buck into each other, fighting to mount the other.

Our clits ramming into random parts of the others body, both with intention and without, I dig my claws into your back, and drag as hard as I can. Wanting to hurt you. To maim you.

And shamefully, to hear, smell, and taste your scream with us being so close. God, nothing in my entire life has been this intense. This satisfying. This frustrating. All at once. You are my enemy. My rival. I HATE you. But I will never be able to forget this or you, win, lose, or fuck a draw.

(Scarlet: My heart is beating so fast right now….)

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(Ewa: So is mine… Gawd.. I could fight.. fight.. FIGHT you until my heart stops you fucking deviant cunt!)

There is no hope.. There is no end in sight… At this damn moment… I’m fully convinced that the pain will never end… This is my eternity… My punishment for the life I’ve lead… I must have died… And now, this is my HELL.. This is my goddamned reality…. And you… You are the succubus sent by Satan himself to fight me until the day of Judgement…. Every thing I throw at you…. Every move… Every buck… Is answered… Whether it’s a moan.. A yelp…. A tremble… A shudder.. There is… consequence… There is retaliation… even if it’s delayed for few seconds… it comes…. And so… Our claws sink… Our teeth snap… Our hard, throbbing nipples gouge into flesh and our bodies lock, tighten and begin to ROLL… The erratic movements… The constant switching of positions further worsened by how smooth and slippery the marble floors are… And wherever we go… We leave a trail of shiny sweat behind… Trickled with some bright pink spots…. Of sweat-minced blood…..

Ms Hardway herself… Is panting.. She’s sweating… Her hands have flicked open every button on her skirt… Her skirt now rolled up her waist And her own panties are few inches down her thighs, soppy and soaked. She has two fingers inside of her. Rubbing and probbing her own velvety insides, her thumb circling her clit. Resting her now exposed ass against the conference table. She watches us. Rolling and writhing on the floor. Desperate. Angry. She sees the the pale mass of flesh ontop, and wishes for nothing but to bury her face between your legs. But a second later, she waches at the tanned, clawed back is facing her, and all she desires is to spread her legs and lock her sex against mine.

But even her, can’t even.. IMAGINE… What we’re going through… This horrid… Frantic struggle.. The sensation of fighting… an equal.. a TRUE… vicious.. nasty equal…. My sex is now grinding against your upper right thigh… My clit trapped against your hipbone, grinding into it… And I know that you can feel the stream of my juices as much as your own nectar is sopping my own right thigh… I press my left palm into the side of your smaller right breast. And I JAM my broken nail into it. I try to drive the jagged edges into your flesh.. As my right claw slides down and I begin to scratch on the ‘cleavage’ of your buttocks.. raking the tender flesh on the inside of your cheeks… Dragging over and over… Sobbing… Groaning.. Doing everything I can to ensure you can’t stay a second longer ontop than I am…

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Behind us, Ms. Hardway strips herself, as her own lust takes over and sense of control she once had. Just the sight of us, our fury, our passion, our equality in this struggle has overwhelmed not only her, but us. For I didn’t expect this.

A fight, yes. Pain, yes. A struggle, yes. But from the moment we met in the hall until now, we have met as wildly as lionesses, fighting with every ounce of energy we have, and yet neither of us have earned an inch on the other.

We have, by the fates or the gods, been put in each others way. No room to let the other pass. No way to avoid the collision. One of us must give — must break before the other, regardless of our mutual quality. And so we war.

Rolling from one side of the room to the other, able to stay atop the other for only the briefest of moments, each of us using our nails, now worn down from use, ripping each others skin. Mine having moved from your back, to your ass, to your hips — never softening, or relenting.

No, instead they painfully drag across your flesh, just as yours do to mine. And yet, despite our fury and force, I can feel myself tiring. Sweat pooling between our chests only to drip upon the other as we turn. Tears falling from my eyes, and yours, crossing in mid-roll, and then dripping on each others faces and into grunt and groan-opened mouths.

And though we are barely aware, and would deny it to our death, each of us finds ourselves humping the other, and thrusting our clits into any part of the others body we can find, our battle-lust taking a firm hold of our hearts and forcing us to do what we would never imagine. But in every second in all of that, we begin to slow. My muscles growing tired. My candle burning at both ends and the middle. Can you feel it? Can you hear it? The end nearing….

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I’ve lost track of time. I know that we’ve entered this… At the evening… Sometime… Some minutes… hours?? Days? Weeks?? ago?? Since we’ve began, there has not been a moment devoid of pain. Sharp, biting, stinging agony that have warmed time and space itself. There is NOTHING like fighting another woman who feels nothing but CONTEMPT to you.. Even Ms Hardway has lost track of it… Two orgasms, violent… consecutive… does that to even the sharpest of minds…. And as her own nectar rolls down her thighs. She gazes at us. At the power and full ferocity of youth, battling each other in this evenly matched, wicked duel of fates and wills. Our bodies are almost indistinguishable, so wrapped together in this human pretzel, if not for the contrast of our skins.

But still, we are humans, and our bodies are nearing their limits. After nearly 5 minutes of constant rolling, bucking and thrusting we begin to… Slow down.. What was a fleeting second ontop the other is stretching into five… then ten…. And she sees it… Walking up to us, kneeling just by our heads… Her thighs spread… And her aroma so powerful, it reaches our nostrils… As we lay on our sides, clutched.. And as she does.. Our eyes flare.. Smelling her… Is taking us of the abyss.. Of the despair we almost sunk into… That this… will not end… I grimace, and draggg my left claw up the side of your right breast… Bringing my paw to your left cheek… My right hand, behind you, gripping your hair.. I yank slooowwly back and down, pushing my body into yours… I roll you to your back…..

Sliding above you… My body… GRINDING into yours… My teeth clenched… I glare down at you and I hiss…. “… Fucking… bitch…. I’ll… end you…. I’ll fucking… take… you.. OUT… if it’s… the last… thing… I… DO….” My left claw pushing on your cheek, trying to turn your head and grind your left cheek into the marble…

(Scarlet: You’re loving this as much as I am, I can tell.)

(Ewa: I could fight you FOREVER… You fucking bitch.. But.. you know… You fucking understand…. One… Only ONE can be TOP CAT…. Even for few days until we latch up again… Mrrooowwrrrr)

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Just behind us kneeling, Ms. Hardway is, her sex is dripping from two orgasms that we ripped from her, though we were entirely focused on each other. She is our boss. The one who stoked this fire. The one whose approval we need for our dreams to come true.

And yet even in her presence, as you grab the back of my hair, and pull me down to the sweat, blood, and juice soaked floor, it passes my mind. Surrender. I could give in, I think as your left palm presses into my face, and thereby smashes my cheek into the marble floor. Submission, I could speak it.

Give it to you, the partnership on a platter. I imagine as you slowly tell me of my imminent destruction. Word by word. Methodically. It is at that moment, where my scales move from side to side, weighing that final option that Ms. Hardway leans down, and whispers in my ear so only I can hear her.

“I knew you weren’t cut out to be partner…. You’ll always be an associate, just like your mother….”

Suddenly, like two electrical pulses to the chest, or a needle of Efrenefren to the heart, I reach out, and deliver a hard, slap across your face, one with so much momentum and rage, that it knocks you off of me, and to my side.

It is then, as if my fatigue has been muted, and exhaustion quelled, I drag myself to my feet. “Slut…. Get up…. I’m not …. fucking done with you … yet…. Not even … close!” My every word comes with spit, flying, my body rejuvenated in half, though my mind still reels and lungs still burn. It is the former that leads me to march over to you, carelessly, and try and drag you to your feet by the hair.

(Ewa: Ugghh.. you.. TRAMP.. You fucking… WHORE… You really think you’re better at this than me… Don’t u??)

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(Scarlet: I think of the two of us, you’re the one who is afraid that I am. And I’ll spend everyday, for the rest of our time together proving to you that your fears are REAL)

My breath is raspy… It HURTS on the way in AND the way out… I know I can pull my chest back a bit.. I could try for some separation between our breasts… To make it easier on myself… But no… No fucking way…. I won’t… I’ll take the pain, as long as I’m causing you an equal amount, or more…. This… THIS is the mindset that has lead to this… To this savage duel, where our once perfect… Flawless bodies are now covered in bruises, scrapes, cuts, and wounds…. I can feel your bright pink nipples burrowing into my tit flesh, as my own drill into your flesh. I can feel your pussy lips spread, latching to my hip like octopi suction pads…. And my own labia grinding and rubbing against your fleshy thigh…. I tell you to quit… And I hear Hardway’s word… Finally.. She’s taking my side… then… “ARGGHHH!!”

Your palm cracks on me… SO HARD… and it lands on my EAR… Sending a shockwave of compressed air in…. And I lose both my position and sense of balance as you buck me off and I fall to the side… But something feels.. amiss… For the first time in nearly 10 minutes, your body does not follow…. I don’t feel thre pressure of your flesh and bones on mine, trying to crush me to the marble floor… No… You push up to your knees, and YANK me up… I yelp in pain.. my palms slapping at your thighs as you push up higher, going to your feet and dragging  me up…. I grimace and as I get up I THROW myself at you… Arms wrapping around your body, and I grab for your hair too…..

Hardway’s eyes go wide watching us stumble and bump into the other…. She sees as our breasts mash.. Mine almost swallowing your smaller pair, but how your thicker, wide hips reel back and THRUST into mine… A grunt leaves my lips as we stumble, yanking and twisting the other by the hair… But I take your challenge.. I THRUST my hips into yours… Yours might be wider, yuor ass might be rounder and larger… But our vulvas are equally sensitive… Our hip bones equally solid.. And I thrust back with anguish… with rage.. as we stumble and our hips hit the edge of the conference table… A moan leaves our lips, but we TWIST and roll along the edge… Your ass grinding into it then mine… Pulling and shaking the other by the hair.. Until I YANK you sharply to the right and I bend you towards the table…. You PULL me back and we are bent, sharply, our shoulders touching the hardwood surface…. Our feet almost leaving the floor…. “… Bitch…. Bitch… I fucking… Hate you..” I hiss… My right leg curling up, over your hip and I try to torque you to send you crashing into the table first, even though I know, wherever you go, so do I…

(Ewa: Fears?? Fucking fears?? You are as REAL as it gets cunt… But I know… I KNOW I am the better CAT and the better Writer…. At the end of the 90 minutes, one of us will ADMIT that she was bested. And I’ll do… EVERYTHING… to rip that confession from your lips Scarlet…. See if I don’t…)


I feel almost naked without you, in that brief moment of separation. Our bodies having been the constant companion of the other for almost this entire battle. But as I pull you up, you clothe me again, wrapping your arms around me, just as I wrap mine around you, our hands digging deep into each others hair.

There, in our terrible embrace, we pull tight again, our hard nipples digging into each other as we dance for position and control. Back and forth, your large tits engulfing mine, while my wide hips, thick thighs, and perfectly curvy ass thrust my lower half into yours.

Suddenly our red hot sexes meet. We should each recoil. Pull apart. Resist such contact. But we don’t; nor does the thought even cross my mind. “I fucking hate you, cunt! HATE HATE HATE!!!” I curse like a chant, even as we start to thrust together again and again. Each of us feeding a deep, shameful need within the other. Neither asking why. Neither using the contact to insult the other.

For we know. We hate each other. LOATH each other. Want to see the other’s destruction at our own hands…. But everything about our struggle has been incredible. Everything about our war has been blisteringly hot. Body-to-body, cunt-to-cunt, scream-for-scream since moment one. We are as close to equals as I have ever found, and that thought drives me absolutely wild.

A feeling which multiples as you push me, and us onto the thick, sturdy conference room desk. It is cold against my flesh, but it warms quickly as we top it, each of us curling a thigh around the others hip, keeping our sexes locked together.

Then, as we settle into our place atop the mount, I lean my head back, and spit in your face — my eyes narrowed in hate. Then, before you can respond, with words, saliva, or outrage of a different kind, I reach between us, and dig my claws into your tits, twisting, and clawing hard. In part to hurt you, and in another, to force you to rear-back and increase our contact below the waist.

(Scarlet: I will cross pens with you, sling words, draft masterpieces to put up against your own until neither of us have the dexterity left to write, or minds capable of wishing we could. Me vs. you. Scarlet vs. Ewa. Ice queen vs. Ice queen, bitch…. In anyway — every way. Forever )


From the moment we stumbled in… From the damn hallways… The carpets… To the couch… To the carpets again… And now, leaning against the table.. we have not let go of ech other for a second.. We’re clutching like two desperate, rabid creates who knew nothing but pain in our lives… A thought that could not be any more stark and opposite to our truths… But at this moment…. It is just our identity… Who we are… No.. who we MADE the other become…. Leaning, pulling hair, grimacing and cussing, we tumble over, and crash to our sides… The wood is harder, colder, less yielding than the the cushion… Yet, we don’t mind… We don’t question it.. Off we go.. Rolling, fighting. Cussing and tugging hair….

My fingers are beginning to feel numb… My body is aching… Muscles bathed in lactic acid… Skin that was not kissed by the other’s nail or teeth is getting skin-rash from the mere friction and grinding. Wounded thighs have not given the other a breather, a fucking chance to stop bleeding…. And yet, she watches us, amused… AMAZED… In all her career… She has never been a part,nor witnessed a battle this intense, this wicked… But she can see that our rolling, our motion, our flopping on the table is erratic…. Instead of spending time atop of each other, the majority is spent on our sides…..

You SPIT into my face, and I cuss, I want to spit back but you PULL my hair back and arch me… I screeech, the bit of saliva I gathered in my mouth drooling down my left arm….. Your claws JAM into my breasts… Both of themmm I screech, and reach down… I grab your wrists… I claw at them but you are incensed.. determined.. Pushing me back.. Skin sliding with ease on the polished wood… Until we are at arms length of the other… But our hips, remain locked, leaving our bodies in this V or rather Heart-shape, with our fused pussies locked… Grinding…. My eyes watering… I glare at you and I hiss…. “You… CUNT… ” But you SHAKE y breasts, rocking me and I yelp… it’s not only the nails wedged into my flesh, but you cause our pussies to grind and rub…. And I reach for you…. My right hand gripping your right bicep, and I claw at it hard….

My left hand, moves further further up, and I wrap it around your neck….. My hand is tired… The pain making it harder to focus… But I tighten my grip as much as I can… I try to squeeze your throat… To take as much of your oxygen as I can… To cause the deprivation in your lungs to mix with the pain and lust in your mind…. My back arching… First pushing my abs towards you then I WHIP back, arching to the other way and thrusting my crotch against yours… Then again.. and again… Concaving and Convexing my body in harsh… desperation alterations.. Not sure if I’m trying to use the pain to augment your arousal… Or the other way around… But regardless… I know that the end is near for one of us….

(Ewa: I will cross pens… Claws… Horns.. and legs with you Scarlet… From now, till the end of time… I will show you the DEPTHS of my carnal desire…. Of my animalistic lust…. until you can’t keep your legs crossed anymore.. until you GUSH…. And realize… that your deepest desires were unleashed… were RIPPED away by the superior woman.. the superior CAT… I don’t care how many dents are left in my armor… how many chips in my ice statute….. I don’t care if they will heal at all… All I care about.. is taking YOU down….. Time and again and again… Until the end of time..)

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Back, and then back again you move, driven by a tug at your hair, and then my claws sunk into your breasts, and with every inch you travel you put more and more pressure on our warring pussies. Behind us, as we move into this new method of battle, I can literally hear Ms. Hardway praising us. Not me. Not you. Both of us. The ultimate contest between two women. But even as we give it to her, slipping into it in a Pavlovian response to such close, intimate contact for so long.

But even as we do … even as we let our bodies have that solace, you reach for my throat, and I reach for yours. Mine coming from your breasts, with fingers on either hand tightening around your throat. In your eyes, and in mine, we tell each other. This is it. Here. On this table. With hands around each others throats, we will each others every breath. Every last ounce of energy.

Both by the strangle itself, and by fucking it out of the other. For if you cum, or I do, we will be unable to to match force with force — unable to fully focus on choking the life out of the other. As that fate rushes towards us, I grapevine my legs around yours, telling you there is no escape. As I do, you tighten your grip, conveying the same to me.

(Scarlet: I will haunt your dreams, Ewa. I will consume your thoughts, your heart, your very soul. I will make you forsake other writers, not because you don’t love them, but because you HATE me — you need me. My claws in your skin. My fingers in your hair. My wounded flesh against yours. You’ll beg to hear me whimper in pain, and I’ll give it to you, if you give me the same. Sisters in tortures. Lovers in loathing. Martyrs to the others malice. And with such a grip on you, I will hold tight. Cling to you like a sickness, but at the same time, being the only cure.)


Teeth are clenched… Lips peeled back exposing them. Spittle drooling from the corners of the busted lips… Blood dried on them… Hair matted… Splayed in small pools on the table… Our eyes soaked in tears… Cuts… Scrapes… Rakes… The kind of damage that will leave us both wondering in the morning… The next week… The next month… if this was worth it… The winner… Might have her excuses… But whoever is losing here…. Will leave her life haunted… Consumed by a grudge… That will make her not tolerate living a day in the shadow of knowing she was torn apart.. Was bested by the other… And right now.. With one hand around the other’s throat… The other strangling one of her breasts… We both reach that point… We both get that sense of panic.. A taste of what it would feel like…. to lose to the other… but it’s too late to pull apart.. To roll away… To  issue regrets or discuss a parlay or truce….

And your thighs… Curl around my legs….. Your limbs grapevining mine… Sending the message… You won’t allow any of this… You want it… to end… ehre… and now… You want to see who will endure longer….. Whose throat will collapse first… Whose cunt will gush first… Whose eyes will shut first…. And I growl…. Spittle buttle and foaing at my mouth…. Glaring at you, my legs locking tighter… Accepting your dare…. Your thich pale limbs and my slender tanned ones curling, coiling… In a tight massive knot… Our pussies mashed… Grinding… Our clits… Jammed against the other….. Our fingers tightening, squeezing…..

And then suddenly in the midst of it all we both feel it at once… Hardways fingers… softly touching our hips… Gently gliding down the sore, sweaty flesh… down our clawed buttocks… We hear her whispering our names….. Purring her sugar-coated venom to our ears…. “Well well my beauties… I feel like a kid on Christmas…… You’ve given me quite… the thrill… But who will it be….. Is it that maybe… you are both incapable of besting the other….. Do I need to give you… a hand…” She purrs, and my eyes go wide  feeling her fingers slipping between my thighs… and with her middle and index finger, still wet with her own juices, she teases across my labia.. her right hand doing the same to yours… then at the same moment, she.. plunges… two fingers inside each of us………

(Ewa: Scarlet… You fucking BITCH… I promise you.. I fucking PROMISE you… If you best me here tonight… I’ll challenge you for our next duel… On Monday… On Tuesday… On the very next damn day your’e available…. Because I know damn well, that if I best you tonight, every night you go to bed knowing you did not come ontop, will be a living hell….. Our souls have met their match since we wrote our first posts.. You fucking KNOW it as much as I do… And there is no shame in admitting it…. I hate you.. I fucking HATE you from the bottom of my heart… And I won’t rest… until you are no more…. Not in scene…. But on here… I will make you drop your pen…. And leave…. If it takes me a month, a year, a decade, or the rest of my life.)


You can see it in my eyes: panic, as Ms. Hardway’s voice softly drifts around our warring lower halves. No! I think to myself. Scream to myself. I can’t…. I can’t…. My air stolen by your grasp. I can fight it. Fight you. Strangle you out. I just need to…. Need….

As my vision begins to cloud again, this time from lack of oxygen, I am on the very precipice of both unconsciousness and orgasm. Our clits never stopping. Never tiring. Each meeting and dueling the other. Crossing, slamming, molding into each other to feel more. But then, Ms. Hardway drives her fingers into me….

Exactly what I couldn’t take. Not when I was that close. And when she does, I explode in orgasm, my toes curling, eyes closing, and body quaking. Some of the foregoing from the waves of breathless pleasure flooding my body, and yet, not all of it. The rest if my body collapsing. Giving in. Betraying me.

My second wind gone. My Sexual resistance destroyed. My dreams of becoming partner, shattered. All of it slipping through my fingers as you ride me there on the conference table.

With my last act, and the last whiff of oxygen in my lungs, I take my left hand from your breast, reach up, dig my nails into the top of your forehead, and claw downward. Despite by state, my nails press deep, and pull hard, scratching you from tip to chin as if my very life depended on it.

Then, with that final attack exhausted, my hands drop; and thighs fall limp from yours. Such a collapse sets you free, just as I pass out. Naked. Covered in sweat, cum, and blood, just as you promised. A broken woman. Relying on your mercy alone to yet live. And yet even as I drift into defeat, I feel Ms. Hardway still pumping in and out of me.


(Ewa: You… fucking… CUNT…. I HATE YOU… UUGGHHHH!!)

Our hips are moving like they are one… Grinding, shifting forwards… Back… sometimes moving in TOGETHER and parting just for a brief moment to GRIND back harder…. And at this moment, Hardways fingers move us like those of a Maestro, and we’re her instruments. Trembling… Gasping.. SHUDDERING… Your fingers tighten around my throat… All of a sudden and I begin to gasp.. The asphyxiation… It’s causing my head to spin… The fingers DEEEEP inside of me….. The entire prospect… Pain… agony… AROUSAL of fighting this once flawless creature… And I can feel it… My own orgasm building up… But a second before my flood gates shatter, I feel your body bucking and it all clicks…

The reason for that sudden surge in your grip… It’s not a second… or fifth wind… No… It’s your orgasm… Your muscles locking down as you grip and tighten…. and the warm… GUSH… seeping and spreading over my thighs… Our legs tightening… And with it… My own juices flow… Grimacing… Growing.. Gasping as I shudder and we both… release together… I see your eyes rolling… Gagging… Gasping… I’m not too far behind when your paw reaches up and RAKES down my forehead, across my eyebrow and my head snaps back… Screaming… And to my surprises your choking hand is no longer latched tight, allowing me to slip back, barely saving my eye from your claw, but I can feel the warm blood running down my forehead…

Our legs pulling apart… revealing the…. puddle… of mixed cum pooled between us… And as you roll laying flat on top of it.. I roll over, my back to you… Curling up in a fetal position…. Gasping.. Moaning… Wincing… One hand on my bleeding face… the other on my equally damaged breast… Sobbing.. I shudder and shake…. I don’t even… understand… what happened… I know that we both orgasmed… That you are passed out… And that my PAIN is stopping me from slipping into the darkness…. I feel the fingers, soaked with my cum rubbing over my thigh… And then finally, her voice seeps into my ears…

“Mmm… it seems… That poor lovely Scarlet…. tucked in for the night… I guess…. That means… Congratulations Ewa….. For now….” — Her words making me freeze… I turn my head to her… my voice trembling… gasping as I whimper; “… for…. now??” — And she smirks, her fingers tugging her skirt down… Her thong already back in place… Buttoning her blouse she purrs; “Well…. You’ll have to agree, giving up on a… talent… like her.. would  be quite foolish…. You do not want her to end in a rival firm, on the other end of a case, now do you??” — She chuckles as I stare at her, still confused… Watching her turn and leave; “Go home…. Clean up… And enjoy the rest of the week off dear… But… if I were you… I would keep my eyes open for this one… You two are FAR from done…” And as the door slams shut behind her… I collapse back.. Sobbing…. Moaning, before I pass out…. my body curled up, mirroring yours…. I may have won the battle, but the war….  just started…

Post Match Chat

(Scarlet: I need to know what you thought of that story we just told)

(Ewa: Fantastic… Brutal… Amazing…. Desperate… Primal….)
[Now] I want to fucking hear it, Scarlet.
I want to hear it from your fucking arrogant.. cocky lips.
I want to hear you SAY IT.

(Scarlet: Say what, dear? That you’re the better woman? That you bested me? That Ewa defeated the mighty Scarlet?)

(Ewa: Look me in the damn eyes… And be woman enough… to fucking say it…
Give me the satisfaction that I’ve EARNED bitch…
No sarcasm, no question marks, no bullshit.
And in return… I’ll give you the shot to get your revenge….

(Scarlet: With a dead sexy, hip-swiveling saunter, I make my way over to you, my eyes locked on yours. Then, when I am only a half a foot away, I reach up, softly take your chin into my hand, and with a voice dripping with sensuality, and sincerity I tell you — give you what you want. “Ewa, you are the better catfighter. You beat me. You outfucked me. You outfought me. And I haven’t an excuse in the world. You. Are. Better.”)

(Ewa: Mmmmmmmm…..
Glad you’re woman enough to admit it…..
You have my respect…..

(Scarlet: I had to come back from my car, to a computer to write that. So print it out, and put it on your wall.
Then, I’d write your own version of that little speech to give back to me. Because next time? You’re mine, slut….

(Ewa: *My eyes widen, hearing the words, it sends an actual shiver up my spine… then down.. then up again…. I feel a warmth in my already soaked kitty…. And I don’t make any effort to remove your hand off your chin… I slide my own hand up, over your left shoulder, and around the back of your neck.. Cupping it.. I softly pull you in.. My lips parted.. But we’re not going to kiss… I press my forehead against yours.. Our noses pressing… I gaze into your pretty eyes and I purr; “And you… Scarlet….. Are the best catfighter I’ve met on here.. The best damn writer… And I fucking rue the fact that our paths are locked in this… But we have no other way around it… I’ll wait for you next time… and the one after…. Knowing that sooner or later, I’ll be saying the same words back to you.. Just know that…. If you bring me down, I will come back HARDER at you….”
Next time… we’ll fucking see.. CUNT…

The End

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