Ewa S. vs. Maria Soul from FCF

Maria Soul:

Dear Ewa,

Your boyfriend and I met on one of your dates. I was at the table just over your shoulder, eating alone. As you told him about your day and your dreams, he smiled at me and I smiled back. While you talked about the office and your coworkers, he winked and I bit my lip.

Then you went to the ladies room, and he approached me. Asking for my number and name, all of which I gave him, after stealing the napkin you placed under your half-empty glass of champagne.

That night, and while you slept he texted me. Begging me to meet him for coffee or dinner, and I refused. Telling him the only place I wanted to meet was your home.

In an instant he agreed, and while you were slaving away in a cubicle somewhere downtown, I came to him. Letting him say not a single word before I pressed my lips to his and in a stumble drug him to your bed.

He was ravenous and desperate, and ready for me to claim him. But after I drained his cock of every last drip of cum, letting him paint my veiny tits white, I made him eat me. Not on your floral print comforter, but your pillow. His saliva and my extract dripping and coating its top side, before I used its bottom to dry myself once I came.

Then, as he laid there on your bed, telling me how much he wanted to see me again, I used your shower, shampoo, and conditioner. Washed my body with your soft, pink scrub, and then as he worried and pleaded with me not to, I took a pair of panties and bra, and then an outfit from your closet that I was sure would be one of your favorites. The one you’ve been missing. The one I am wearing as I write this.

He said it looked good on me. Better on me. And though his words were sweet, I left him there. No promise to see him again. No assurance that he and I were suddenly I thing.

I know right now you want to know why, and I’ll tell you. Because I didn’t flirt with him, fuck him, and then spend time leaving my scent in your lair for him. I did it so I could send this letter.

So I could tell you what I had done, and create in you the anger and jealousy you’re feeling right now.

Emotions I want plaguing you when we meet to settle things.

Which is what you want now, isn’t it. . . .

Text me. (XXX) XXX-XXXX

Sincerely,
Maria Soul

Ewa S.:

Dear Maria,

I did smile. Thank you. Your letter put a curl on the corners of my lips, but it brought me really no joy. It felt empty…. It felt hollow… It felt useless…. Certainly short of what I think would satisfy me…

At least, you admitted he is the only man you cared about… Now you know… How it feels…

I guess, in that, we find solace in knowing that we are alike…

But wait… There is more, isn’t there??? There is much, much, MUCH more that we seem to…. agree on…. You said… Writhe??? Your letter seemed to reference a lot of red…. A lot of destruction…. Of ruin… That suits me…. That suits me quite well… And if you want to turn into two lunatics running around a straw maze with two torches, until it’s all set ablaze, sealing us inside, to…. WRITHE as the flames do so around us….

I guess I’m not the only lunatic in here…. And while you research, plot, and wreck…. You better not slow down to watch everything turn to ash around you… Because I’ve only begun to exact my revenge…. Everyone you care about… Everything you hold dear…. Anything you’re proud of….. Will be mine… Mine… Mine…. Then tossed to the trash when I’m done toying with it…

And you, will be saved for last…. I want you just that way…. With nothing more to lose….. I want you to come at me with every bit of hatred and anguish a girl can have towards another… And when the fur settles, and the screams stop…. We will have our answer….

Who was the better predator…

Past-tense intended….

Sincerely,

Ewa S.

Maria

Dear Ewa,

I could let there be silence from now until the end. Nothing more than the low buzz of ongoing calamity and clatter around us as in equal obsession we destroy each other’s everything.

But I want to see it, to feel it, to know it; your misery. Just as I am sure, you want to experience mine.

So add me, Ewa S., at MariaSoul on Trillian. In a private chat, away from the prying eyes of all those friends and family members who will watch our descent into hell. That way we can not only taste, but savor each others tears, as we seek our cruel, destructive vengeance.

I promise I won’t hide my suffering from you. Or pretend to be impervious to your predatory strikes at my life. But I wonder, can you promise the same?

Are you strong enough to admit when I have wounded you?

Brave enough to let us enjoy each others pain?

Sincerely,
Maria Soul

Ewa:

Maria….

I will skip the fakeness and dearships…. You want me raw, naked, true?? You will get it… Much like you will feel my pain and angusih everytime you land a true strike…. You will be able to count every cut your nails leave on my body, every droplet of blood that you’ve extracted from me…. You will be reminded of your earlier attacks from the way I hunch… Limp… From my failed lunges and which paw releases your flesh first everytime we clash our overheated, drained bodies…

That I can promise… And that I will always strive to deliver…. You will feel my pain and agony… And you will also feel my intensity and desire to hurt you… MORE…. We know these letters will haunt us…. For a longtime…. Perhaps past the showdown that will leave very little of the winner, and perhaps… NOTHING… of the loser…

But when it’s all said and done… We will both have the same answer to the question; “Was it worth it? Would you do it again?”

Yes…. And fucking yes….

I’ve added you to Trillian… And will PM you mine as well…

I wish you well in your wars to come…

Ewa S.

First Chat

Ewa: Oh, hello Maria… I'm sorry, was sending an email….. Blood you say?? Claws????

Maria: Yes, your blood -- my claws. We'll both be getting acquainted with them.

Ewa:…. You are wrong…. Absolutely.. And completely wrong… Because the price will NOT be small… Not for you… Not for me…. But we're still going to go through it.. Won't we?

Maria: I am willing to pay any cost to hurt you. Any price to make you SUFFER.

I hope those aren't press-on, they tend to break off when you need them the most.

Ewa S: Quite the slut…. Aren't you???? Well…. That's something we have in common… Yet ANOTHER one….. I'm sure we will be comparing notes about it, and more, when we PULL the other closer, and spend days writhing and rolling on the floor….. Gouging holes into each other with our talons……
Ewa: I am 5'4" 118lbs by the way…… 35 years old…. Toi?

Maria: Mmm, I just want you to see the body that is going to best yours. Not in a flash of malice and hatred, but in a war like you've never fought before. One that lasts as long as it needs for me to make you understand and ADMIT the mistake you have made. 5'3'', 120 lbs, 23.

Ewa: Ah, rewriting history won't do you any good…. YOU came for my man first… YOU invaded my territory…. YOU sent the first letter….. I just… do it… BETTER….. I traced you down, bid my time, and when it came to it, I took a VIDEO…. And much like my… WAYS are better…. You will soon find, that my rolling, slashing, clawing, biting, mauling, tearing skills are second to none….. And I will enjoy making you whimper and BEG……
… Slut…

Maria: Oh no, the mistake did not begin our connection. YOur mistake was fighting back. Your mistake was trying to be more than a victim. You should have mourned the death of your relationship. Sobbed into your pillow at night. And then, until the day when you are too old to do anything else, hate me. The woman who ruined your life. The woman who stole your smile. But instead, you came after me. Instead you came after my man, and made this personal. THAT was your mistake.
…cunt…

Ewa: I'm well aware of what you perceive as MY mistake…. Because that's what a toxic, delusional, self-destructive bitches think….. A narcissistic TRAMP who never felt the love of a mother or the presence of a father….. Let me guess….. Only child??? Neglected??? Thinking the world OWES you something… And you're out to get it….. No, CUNT…. The only mourning that will happen will be that to your beauty….. To your ability to seduce ever again…. I will take it all from you…… Your looks…. Your pride…. Your over-inflated sense of self…..And that is after I declaw you….. This IS personal….. This IS ugly….. This IS hateful….. This IS a catwar…. That will hit the floor the second we pounce on each other, and will NOT stop until one of us is BROKEN….. You caused a lot of damage…. And will cause some more… But when the dust settles, you will have… NOTHING….. AT ALL….
…. Slut….

Maria: Well at least you're aware of the hell we can look forward to. But PLEASE, save your dollar store psychoanalysis for someone who can't see right through you. Not because you're shallow or foolish, but because when I look at you, I see me. Older, yes. Bustier, perhaps. But whatever it is that drives you -- that drives us, is the same. Fathers, mothers, sisters, and brothers aside. We are broken. We've been broken all our lives. And though we have that in common, when finally we dig our claws into each other, and let loose all that has poisoned us, we will not mend or fix one another. We will only bring more splinters and sadness to our already shattered lives. And though I know that. And though I am SURE of it. I still hate you. To the very depths of my soul. So much that even if you take EVERYTHING from me, I too will take the same from you. It is a trade I am willing to make. To prove to you that you aren't better at "this". That you aren't somehow the icequeen I am too naive to see coming. You are the sheep that fought back. And I am the wolf that will carry your bloody carcase home with me, so I can pin your pelt on my wall.
….Frigid bitch….

Ewa: Oh, we are FAR too alike… Much more than you think, you nasty little CUNT… Age?? Bust size?? Who cares…. It never matters in an affair like this….. It's our ferocity… Animosity… It's our need to WIN… Our desire to.. SURVIVE… That will settle this…. We're both damaged goods….. Rough splintered jagged things that leave nothing but bloody cuts and scratches on the hands of anyone who tries to touch or handle us….. But we won't just be touching Maria…. You and I…. Will LOCK up…. Long bend limbs will wrap around the other…. Busty chests will slam, grind, rub…. Teeth will snap at flesh, tasting the other's tears and blood until our jaws are sore….. My nails, that you will find out are as real as they get will peel and slash at your skin until they break, and then, I will keep using the jagged edges….. I won't stop…. I won't stop because I CAN'T….. A firewolf will fight a tigress….. It will be violent… It will be primal.. It will be savage… It will be bloody… But when it's over…. I will be dragging what is left of you, shaking my head and splattering your blood on the walls of my den….
…. Savage Animal….

Maria: Your den or mine. An empties well we are lowered into and left in. A cage too small for one woman, let alone two. I would gladly "lock" myself together with you. Chain myself together with you. Without a key. Without an out. Without a chance that either of us survive past whatever day of many would be our last together. Because I could live a thousand lifetimes, and never find someone like you. Someone like ME. Which means that this moment. This conversation. This malice-drenched feud is our pinnacle. Our once-we-had. A rivalry like no other and an enemy that will FOREVER change our lives. Lives which will seem dim, drab, and devoid of meaning before we met. We were made for this, Ewa. Made for each other. To meet. To dive. To battle. And then strive. Not to move past one another. But to fight. From this moment on. Until you cannot breathe without it tasting of my perfume. Until you cannot listen, without hearing my voice in the wind. Until you cannot sleep without dreaming of me in your nightmares. Nightmares we will make real.
….Vicious predator….

Ewa: Why…. You little…. whorish…. fiendish… creature of malice and evil…. My heart is pounding… My blood is pumping… My panties are wet….. My claws are dragging furrows in the arms of my chair reading this… THINKING of us…. Of the WAR to come…… Of the mayhem we will create….. A battle that will begin on a Monday, and will probably take us all week….. 8 hours a day to even draw to a close….. I am thinking of the pouncing… The thudding of bodies, each trying to make sure she leads with enough claws to imbed into cheeks,breasts, bellies, thighs…. The screaming, the heads wrenched by hairpulls, the teeth SNAPPING on thin air narrowly missing flesh… The craters we will leave into walls as we drive into them, the mattresses that will slide to the floor, and the sheets that will be stained red… The tatters of clothing and the tapestry of torn hair bound by sweat and tears that we will tangle on….. Of every separation…. Every time we rise to all fours, glaring with increasing MALICE… ROARING and SPITTING into the otehr's face before we pounce AGAIN… And AGAIN… and AGAAIINNNN… Until one of us can't rise anymore…. Until she is writhing weakly beneath the other… The TRUE ALPHA PREDATOR that will devour her…. That will truly prove…. After dozens of hours of WARFARE that she is….. BETTER…..
… Hateful FIEND….

Maria: I promised you I would be truthful, and let you see what your malice has done to me. And so, yes, I will admit that between my dangerously thick thighs, my panties are wet. That as we write to one another certain of our own power and destruction, I grow wet. My left hand drifting down and against the fabric of my white cotton panties as I picture hurting you. As I imagine the sounds of your screams. My heart racing so quickly, I can hear nothing but it's quickend tempo pounding in my ears. Can you imagine it, Ewa? Can you hear them? My screams overlapping with yours? Can you see it, our naked, gouged, scratched and bleeding bodies rolling together? Our hands digging long ravines down each others every inch of skin? Can you even think of anything else than our tears dripping into open cuts, as we sob for each other in agony? I ask you those questions, but I know the answers. I know you want this and me. To finally have the fate we both knew was coming. The day we met our true enemy. The moment our broken lives collide.
….Malicious succubus….

Ewa: I like that…. I love that we are both showing off the wounds the other inflicted to her… We're not pridefully or immaturely trying to pretend that the other left no scrapes… No cuts… No wounds to our ego's… That's exactly why I know you are every bit as dangerous as you project yourself to be… Maybe even more….. You're tugging your top down, showing the little scar I left you, and telling me I will pay for it thousand folds…. And that's exactly what I expect… And I will come ready for…… And while we will be performing atrocities upon each other in the scene, RL…. Yes… The cum will be flowing….. I will show you mine if you show me yours; I will report every orgasm you inflict upon me, if you will do the same… And perhaps….. At the end of the week-long war….. We can tally the score… And whoever….. DUG HER CLAWS DEEPER in the other's soul…. Whoever pulled more 'OH WOW' moments out of the other.. Whoever raised the other's laundry basket weight the most… She would be crowned BITCH QUEEN……
…. Venomous snake….

Maria: I would sit here and write to you, my enemy, until my hands ached and then further. But I must go. But let me be the first to admit it. And the first to show that I will never hide the effect you have on me. I have cum for you. Released for you, here in this chair as I read of your hate and mine. And now I will make the slow, awkward walk to the bathroom to take off these panties, though I didn't bring a replacement pair. And as a token of all that we have discussed, I will bring them to your house and leave them in your mailbox. Get them before he does. So that you can wear them, display them, or use them in whatever ritual of hate and lust you deem fit.
….Depraved harpy….

Ewa: Mmmmmmm…. I'm so drenched…. I guess I'm lucky… Saved by the bell… For if I were to get another message or two, I would have gushed all over my keyboard… You're… a fiend… A mistress of this twisted artform, Maria…. I know that already.. And I can tell that I will STRUGGLE with you…. With every step of the way…… Every post will be anguish to read and write….. I will wear your panties once I receive them… Then I will grind my crotch slowly over the arm of my couch, while staring into your picture… Into your eyes… Then… As I cum and gush, as our juices mix and our nectar becomes one… I will mail it back to you…. And may the victress… Go home with the pair…..
…. Abominable seductress…..

Maria: If the victress can go home. Goodbye for today, Ewa. 

Ewa: Goodbye, Maria. Puuuuuurs

Second Chat

Maria: I can't tell if they're dreams or nightmares, but when I sleep, I am trapped with you.

Ewa: You sleep??? Can you??? I find myself struggling to do it.... With the countdown going down in my mind..... We're drawing closer... closer... Maria....

Maria: I have found it easier to sleep know I've found you. Perhaps in the same way that criminals, once caught, sleep soundly in their cell. I know the cage I am trapped in, the cellmate I am destined to have, and look forward to the moment when we bring each other peace through endless, violent, merciless war.

Ewa: But we're not in the cell yet, Maria..... We're simply in holding... Waiting for the trial...  week-long trial, that will enjoy no media attention... Will happen quietly, on the sidelines.... Locked in our own courtroom, where we are the defense, the prosecution, the judges, and the jury...... I'm waiting for the moment, the violence begin..... Because I want to show you.... So much.... Cruelty....

Maria: Mmm, but I am already there with you, Ewa. With my eyes or when they're closed. Fighting you. Battling you. Dragging my nails across your skin, and peeling your flesh from your gorgeous body. Maybe I am alone in that. Maybe you are distracted by some other jungle cat. But so be it. I'll teach you my lesson. And show you my justice. Not until one of us gives. Not until one of us can't stand. But until we can't think or breathe -- speak or reason. Until we have forgotten, not only who the other is, but who we are without each other and our deseprate war of hateful hellcats set free.

Ewa: You're right in that.... There are some distractions, but they are nothing more than that..... Little ploys that I play just to take my mind off this... MADNESS..... Off the main event... The war I have been SEETHING for weeks for.... The chance to slam my body into yours, to feel your breath on my skin, and go deaf to your screams.... To the chance to gouge my claws into your thick ass, and coil my legs around your curvy thighs..... Two will lock up on Monday, Maria.... Comes Friday, only a FRACTION of one will remain......


Maria: How is a week enough for women like us? How is a single chance at hurting one another sufficient for what we feel? Just seeing your profile picture makes my heart thump so loud in my chest I can hear nothing else. Just seeing those three telltale dots blinking as you write makes me want to scream as I pull at my own hair. Hair that will be torn from root by you soon, as we scratch and claw at each other. Our legs coiling like snakes as we fight not to keep the other from escaping, but to get closer so we can wound. My blood and yours seeping from fresh cuts that bind us together, as my flesh heals with yours. You are a goddess, I can see it. I can read it. I can feel it in my every cell. But I when I sink my teeth into your lips and clamber up your body, pinning you to the floor. Know that at the end, I  will enjoy every whimper you give to me and every lock of hair that you shed. Because they will be proof that I felled one of the pantheon. That beneath me lies the woman who could, but didn't defeat me.

Ewa: Ah..... The crazy... The seething, furious, insatiable RAGE that I expect nothing but, from a CUNT like you.... Remember it Maria... YOU started this..... You... took him... You... seduced him.... You.... plunged your claws in and dug the first wound.....Then wrote the letter with the dripping blood.... You reap what you sow.... And come Monday..... You will see precisely what you are reaping..... We will bleed together... We will scream together... We will weaken together, and go into berserker rages together..... We will fall and think it's over.. Only to realize that the other is still... dragging her nails on the floor trying to come closer; and refuse to stop... To quit...... You will wish you never met me... Never crossed me... Never knew which mailbox is mine..... You will wish it all, when I crawl over your naked, mauled, shredded back, and drop my cunt on your ass, grinding and smearing your wounds with my cum.... When my paw wraps around your throat, slicing across it... And my teeth gnaw on open wounds on your shoulder.... You will BEG and FLAIL.... You will wish you could take it back.... But it will be too fucking late for you.....

I have to take off now.. Maria... I wish you were here sooner... There is.. SO MUCH... I want to tell you... Tomorrow though? Perhaps we can get a chance to polish and iron out the details of our upcoming war....

Maria: If you whisper into my ear, I will whisper in yours. Tomorrow, my fated enemy.

Maria:

I was 19 and I loved him. Because of course I did, at that age. He was handsome and older. With a well-kept beard, a swagger in his walk, and a motorcycle he’d ride into the quad of my high school when picking me up.

He was everything I ever dreamed of. Everything I had ever wanted, though I had only been a person with thoughts for a blink, at that point.

I did whatever he asked, whenever he asked, wherever he asked. Sacrificing my pride and sexual restraints to please him. I thought it would keep him loyal. That he would love me, if I just kept him satisfied. But one day, I noticed it. Not lipstick on his collar. Not condoms in his pocket.

But my shampoo feeling just a little bit lighter. Not once, so that I might write it off as a fault memory. Not twice, where I might think it was odd — knowing he would never use what he called “my girly stuff”. In fact not even three times, where I might bring it up, just to sate my own curiosity.

Instead the shampoo bottle got lighter again and again, until just as a test, I stopped using it all together. And though I did, still did it lighten until finally, it was empty. A lightness in my hand that I would have raged about, had I not seen the note on the back of the bottle. Handwritten and taped to it’s purple surface.

It’s cursive-drawn letters saying: “Every night I fuck him. Every night I make him cum inside me. Then I come in here and wash my hair with your shampoo. With love, Brisa.”

Standing their nude, under the hot shower water, I read that note maybe a hundred times. Until the water that rained down on me washed the ink away and then slowly ate away at the paper.

When finally I could move again. Breathe again, I got dressed, and ran from his house, to my car, and then cried. For hours. For days, when I got home. Obsessing about who it was that left me that message. About how cruel she must have been to do something so mean. About how powerful she must have felt to have the audacity to write such a note, knowing I might come to challenge her.

But I didn’t.

I just move on. From him. From his bed. From his shower. And from Brisa, whoever she was and whatever she looked like.

It was a decision that haunted me, gnawed at me, and twisted me. Until the only way I could feel strong or in control was to do what she did. Not in revenge against her, but to other women. Whoever I could find. Reenacting the cruelty that had been done to me to feel confident, like she must have.

A confidence that was false at first. Fragile after some time. And now, as I stand on your doorstep knocking with the underside of my fist, is unassailable. Its strength beaming from my tight, blue, sundress covered body, bottomed by black heels. An outfit I have no doubt you will take from me. Heels I will with as much certainty will use as weapons if you let me.

Ewa:

I didn’t believe it at first….. She was a kid…. It must be a mistake… A prank… A cruel joke…. I tried to nervously smile and chuckle, to just laugh it off… My reaction reading the letter was actually going out, heading to Peet’s coffee, and getting myself a Honey Cinnamon Ice Latte… I tipped then big, more than the price of the coffee in fact, and on my way home, driving, the tears just started to fall… As my heart sank…. I had to pull over, practically unable to see the road…. Sobbing, crying until it hurt…… Deep gasps and groans leaving my chest that BURNED with anguish and rage… With loss…. Helplessness settled in..

The deep insult and humiliation…. To be 35… And be disrespected that way, not only by the man I chose… The man I said ‘Yes.’ to when he got in his knees only 7 months ago… The man I shrugged and told him when the Covid-19 crisis began; “I don’t care if our wedding is delayed… I will marry you right here, in the kitchen….” — But I should have seen it in his awkward smile, and thinly veiled lies…. Telling me that he wanted to wait, that he wanted to give me a wedding…. Did he have second thoughts then??? Was he still testing that… younger… CUNT… Seeing how much tighter it was??? Did he fucking love her short round figure and thicker thighs??? Did she give him what I denied him, allowing him to enter her from behind??? Did she say yes to the no I gave when he ‘joked’ about having a threesome??? I don’t know… I can’t fucking tell anything… But as my eyes dried at the source, and as the loss subsided, there was nothing but… Rage…. And with it… Revenge….

I came for your place…. I observed… Raging… Feeling the insult going deeper, to realize that my foe was so much younger and more youthful…. I scanned your body, every curve dialed up to 11, every dimple loud to a deafening screech, every ounce of your beauty weighed down like it’s a neutron star, sent on a collision course with my deflated ego and pride….. But I struck…. I never acted so…. slutty in my life… I made myself easy…. I watched Basic Instinct the night before, and channeled the Sharon Stone inside every woman… The black widow… The seductress… I lured him to a room rigged with 8 cameras… I fucked him… I fucked him harder than I ever fucked Ryan….. And when he was drained, I kicked him out…. I spent two days compiling the video…. The response….. Out of the 20 or so hour footage, I sent you 30 minutes….. And I told you if you want the rest, you’d have to come and pick it up yourself…. The invitation was clear….. A social call at a time of Pandemic…. But the plague was not just in the air and the streets… The plague was in my heart…. And it wanted to consume you… To pay you for it…… And sitting in my living room, trying to stop myself from biting on my nail ends, in my yellow, loose summer dress…. My open toed sandals flat, not giving my any extra inches to my 5’4″….. I waited until the knocks rose on the door….

My neck craned, staring at the door…. Blankly….. Breathing hard… Tell her to go away…. No.. Just be quiet… Until she gives up and leaves….. Or maybe, walk up to the kitchen and pick up my carving knife out of the block…. Yes, that will do it…. But instead…. Of cowardice or madness, instead, I say in a loud voice, clear enough for you to hear…. “It’s unlocked. Come in.”

Maria:

As I stand there on your doorstep, my lips not pressed to Ryan’s, nor my hands working to undo his belt, I flash back to it all. Not the story that brought me to the fetish of and obsession with sleeping with other women’s men. Not the long twisted tale of self-doubt and self-loathing, but the very moment you struck back at me.

The moment when the latest sheep of so many became a wolf. A predator who stalked me. Hunted me. Found my lair and then fucked the only man I had ever been with, since Brisa….

Since she took the man who’s name I can even bring myself to say.

But you did not stop at fucking him. Instead you filmed in and then flaunted it. Sending me pictures and videos. Images I poured over just as I did that note I found in the shower looking them over and watching them hundreds of times until we began to send letters and emails back and forth. Only to thereafter give you my number and then whisper hatefully to each other in one hate-filled message after another.

And though, in truth, I could have found enough in those malicious replies to sustain and feed my loathing for years. We both wanted more. Needed more. Not to just sit there on opposite ends of town, fingering ourselves as we lingered and luxuriated in our mutual desire to destroy one another.

So we planned, prepared, and positioned ourselves. Each of us in a pair of the other’s cumstained panties. You in your home, sitting on your couch and me on that same doorstep where it all started.

“It’s unlocked. Come in.” I hear you call to me. Inviting me into the private hell we have arranged. It is an offer I accept. Not irritated or frustrated, by your insistence on distance. But calmly and confidently. My red-nailed right hand grabbing for the handle, turning it, and then pressing the door open.

Its dark wood swinging in as through the doorway it once guarded I step. Into your entryway, your living room, and then before either of us have made eye contact, in front of you. A placement I let fade, as before you can greet or grab, I move to grab a nearby lounging chair and drag it over your carpeted floor and towards you. It coming to a squeaking stop as suddenly I drop 5’3’’, 120 lbs body down into it. Cross my young, thick legs, and then finally look to you. My eyes conveying every bit of emotion that we share, but also a donned calmness that matches your own.

“Thank you for allowing us to do … THIS … here. My apartment is too small, but you already know that.”

Ewa:

I stare at the door… My eyes fixated on it…. My breathing heavy… Ragged…. Shallow….. Labored….. I don’t blink…. I can’t…. I’ve only seen you in one context… Behind the counter, in your barrista apron, dressed in simple, casual clothing, that still allowed your curvy latina body to shine and lure eyes to the little bit of cleavage, and the clean, unblemished, tight, unwrinkled skin…. You went over and ahead to display yourself like a piece of meat… To tease and lure men to your trap…. And while you were pretty, you oversexualized everything…

Every smile and wink and little hop that sent your big round breasts bouncing in your t-shirts… But I wonder.. What would you dress in, coming for combat…. And I get my answer; blue…. A sundress, that shows more than it hides, and perfectly reveals the curves it’s concealing…….

You walk in, and our eyes meet… Your dark, cruel, THIRSTY eyes glaring at me and I can see the tightness in the corners in your lips as you see the clench of my own teeth.. I don’t move… I remain seated in my green velvet chair in the formal living area at the front of the house… Opposite to the formal, 10-seat dining table… Behind me, the full glass wall of my wine cellar…. Ryan… Nowhere to be found… I sent him away…. He thinks I’m taking my time to heal my emotional wounds, he doesn’t need to know that tonight, I will be incurring so many more real ones… Ones that might scar… That might last… Wounds that I intend to race you to inflicitng with every slash, gouge, and bite…. And with deadly contempt, you grab a chair and drag it on the carpet and plop down on it, sitting there, then… you.. THANK me…..

Thank me?? I glare at you…. As you hiss the words….. And I don’t find that amusing… At all… My face remains in a scowl…. My eyes narrow, and my brows furrow… Tiny wrinkles appearing on my forehead, crow’s feet around my eyes that haven’t had much sleep in weeks accentuate themselves… The signs of aging on my otherwise pristine, well-kept figure showing the cruelty of mistress time; as I hiss… “You’re…. Welcome???” — I snarl the words, as my legs slowly uncross, then re-cross the other way… I notice your heel instantly… The sharp point of it….. And I understand instantly both why you appeared taller than I remember, and the purpose of them…. “… Off….” I hiss in a gruff voice, as I reach up with my right foot, and press the edge of my sandal against the tip of your hanging right heel…. “None of that shit….. Or it won’t stop at heels, Maria…” I say in a cold tone, as I tilt my foot up and slowly pluck your shoe off your foot, lifting it, slowly, and softly letting the leather drag against your smooth, soft skin until the shoe falls and plops to the floor… And then I lower my foot and pressing the back of my sandal into the floor, I pull my own foot out of it, and then slowly recross my legs, staring at you, waiting for you to lift your other leg up so I can do the same….. “And yes… Your apartment is… Too small… Not that it would have mattered… I don’t think we’re going to play hide’n’seek…… I intend to keep you within arms length… Until this is… OVER… But speaking of which… How do we know, when this is over….?”

Maria:

In your emails and texts you sounded so certain and sure of yourself. Of our roles in this game. Of your victory and my subsequent regret. But with every second that passes I see that facade brittle and flake, only to, a moment later, turn into dust in the air and drift.
You are scared of me.

Not that I will hurt you. Not that I will beat you. But what I am in comparison to you. My youth and your age. My soft, supple body and your thinner, more tone frame. Even perhaps my energy to persecute this little war we have agreed to and prostitute myself, not for money but with the aim of making Ryan mine.

All of it I see before you respond to me, and yet as you demand I take off my heels, and then in agreement with that demand take off your own, it is a clarion call. One that begs me to push you. Not because I see you as lesser. Or because your fears are justified. But instead because I want to seap inside your mind like a poison, and make you second guess your every thought before you’ve even brought them to bear.

“Do you think I want it to stop at heels, Ewa….?” I ask as my still heeled foot raises, not up in a crossing of legs, but out and towards you. “Do you think I have come here to battle you with rules…?” As my soft, sensual voice asks you, your question of when it will over taking a backseat for the moment, I extend my leg further, and slowly drag the tip of my heel up the calf of your floorbound foot. Not hard, but softly. Both of us well aware that at any moment I might strike.

“Is that how your fierceness has ebbed in your older years…? Is this what will happen to me when I am your age…?” Knowing and seeing how every word effects you, I keep moving my foot. Keep driving it forward slowly. Until the the traveling tip of it shifts, angles, and then presses in such a way that the last of our footwear pops off and falls next to you on the couch.

Having given you the sanity you asked for, I then sit back in my chair, cross my legs once again, and then as our fiery eyes lock together once more, I answer your final question. “This will never be over….” Regardless of what happens today….”

Ewa:

We glare at one another… And I can see that look in your face…. The look of a predator… Of a huntress, that could sniff my hesitation and doubts…. You have the SOUL of a CUNT…. And you are embracing it… With no shame… No hesitation, you lift your other leg up, but away from the reach of my de-shoeing foot….. You speak with a zen, calm, almost curious tone…. You know things are not even…. We’re not the same… That you hold some cards that have so long withered and died in my hands….

Age… Age conquers all… And without saying a word, with just that leg lift and flesh of your soft, round, unwrinkled thigh all the way to its root, you taunt me with your softer skin, and abundant youth….. While simultaneously declaring this a war with no rules… One where atrocities are common… I’m distracted by the stare of your heel as you push it and drive it into my leg, and my teeth clench.. My instinct to flinch suppressed by my stubborn refusal to succumb to the pain and give you the satisfaction of enjoying that momentary superiority……. You drag it up all the way to the back of my knee….. As you begin to speak more openly about my ‘older years’……

You inquire, with child-like curiosity…. Pushing until your heel is plucked off… But I find no relief in it, as you disarm yourself, showing a callous lack of interest, or NEED for weaponry…… My other foot pulling out of my sandal, and I glare at you….. “Ebbed??? Oh… You are so mistaken….” I say in a calm voice, that I try to keep cool, but it still shudders with the rage to the imbecilic disregard manifest before me……

And as you declare it a never ending affair, I smirk and cruelly say; “Oh… But it will….. It will be over today….. That, you should be sure of….” I say in a chilling tone, as my right foot pushes forwards, the toes straightened, and I wedge it into the gap between your crossed thighs… The bottom of my foot sliding at the top of your left thigh, while my toe nails, angled up, push and slowly drag across the back of your thigh, slowly pushing my leg forwards, letting you feel my toe nails, grazing, and slowly scratching the back of your soft, tender thigh….. “You will never grow to be like me, Maria…… You and I, come from two very different worlds….. And you simply… Don’t have what it takes…. I’ll show it to you, again, and again… While you scream…. And bleed…. While you rue the choices you’ve made till this moment, but chief among all, is declaring this; a lawless conflict….” My words turning to a hiss, as my toes push further up your thighs, an inch from your crotch, and with a little surge I thrust my leg, trying to cut the last few centimeters, and jam my toe nails right into your cunt….

Maria:

I watch as you almost turn to flickering cinders and windblown ash in your seat on the couch. My every word a provocation and attack. My every glimmer of glare a dare and a challenge. And though for a moment I feel as if I have you on the very edge of losing control, you resist it.

You settle. Not letting loose of your anger, but focusing it to allow you to regain the confidence you had when we spoke before today. Your leg, lifting like mine did, but not to the outside of my leg. No, as instead you aim for my center, squeezing your toes and feet into the opening between my cross legs. Legs which part for you like the Red Sea, as you scrap your nails down the delicate flesh of my inner thighs. The limb that drives them moving deeper and deeper, until suddenly you turn what was a slow push into a sudden thrust. Your nails driving into my sex, and clutching at the fabric of the cum-stained panties you sent me to wear.

At the contact, and the pain of it. At the sound of your voice and words replaying in my head, I close my eyes, and bite my bottom lip and then say. “Fuck you, Ewa.” The response is short. Simple. And yet it is all that I can offer as I try to endure this taste of pain you share with me. My mind begging me to fight back, as my soul tells me to wait. To stay. And to let you have this.

Not out of pity. Not out of a pleasure-drenched drifting from malice to desire. But instead to show you how similar we are.

Have you seen it? Have I shown you? Do you understand? I would know, but my eyes are closed. Lids jammed shut until in a sudden burst of action, I reach between my legs, grab your foot, drag it up to my mouth and then try like the devil girl I am to bite down.

Ewa:

My fury is building…. I’m glaring into the eyes of this soulless fiend….. I can’t imagine what transpired in this girl’s life, to turn her into this remorseless, cruel, apathetic shard of hatred….. But I have no intentions of finding out…. You’re not here to be counseled… You’re not here to confess your sins and seek forgiveness…. We won’t hold hands and sing Kumbaya…. And you are not seeking guidance, or a way to redeem yourself…..

You’re here to confront me…

To fight me…

To ravage me and finish the job you started that day, when you fucked him… When you sent that letter with a smirk….. You did it before, I’m certain… And perhaps, you were just searching for the one… The one who won’t keel over and break down in tears… The one who would stand up for herself… Who would slap back… And you’ve found her…. In me… you’ve found her…. My foot thrusts into your loins and I can feel it.. The moist fabric…. The wetness… Your body convulsing, and your claws sink into the arms of the chair, but you don’t scream…. You hold it, you channel that RAGE for few moments and then you GROWL your cuss word and reach down for my foot, your claws grabbing the ankle, lifting, and you SNAP your foot down…

My eyes go wide, gasping and turning my foot to the side, curling my toes, but there is no avoidng it, I barely manage to evade the first bite, but the second, sinks in true, into the ball of the foot, right below the big toe… i SCREAAAM and my body jolts in pain, I try to pull my leg free, but your claws just sink deeper into my calf, scratching as you GROWL and gnaw, your eyes opened slightly, GLARING at me as you SINK your fangs down.. Your small perfect white teeth digging into my flesh as I howl and flail, sliding down into my chair, my butt coming off the edge, hanging in the gap between the too chairs… “RRARRRRRGGG!! YOU FUCKING BIIITCHHH!!!!” I scream and grab the arms of my chair frantically so I don’t lose my balance, my claws digging into the green velvet…. My other foot coming up, and without delay or thought I thrust my foot to your face, sinking my toenails above your right eyebrow and I DRAG down savagely, trying to sweep my sharpened toenails across your face to make you let go….

Maria:

A quick bite, and I would release you. A message. A lesson. That I would hurt you. That I would tear your flesh in any way that I was able. But then I would let you go. Not to give you a chance to back out, but to dive atop you and start this.

But when I hear you scream. When I feel you react to the pain I have caused. I go blind to my plan. Deaf to my intentions. And mute, as my teeth continue to bite into your toes.

The experience of it, of hurting you like we had discussed. Of ravaging you like I had promised. Seizing my soul and forcing me to keep your toes caught between my teeth. Your curses and cries only making me bite down harder in excitement and desire.

But then it comes. Your other foot and the nails thereon. Nails which dig into my face and then drag down. My flesh splitting in 3 full, and one half ravine of cut flesh. Cuts that open and then spread as my jaw unhinges, teeth release, and lips part in a terrible scream as your wounded foot retracts.

That scream, a shrill, sound of physical pain unlike anything I had ever experienced in my life. And though it is. And though part of me begs me to turn from it. Run from it. And betray every word I had ever spoken to you. Instead, as you try to fight your way from between my chair and your couch, I lift my right foot, jam it down onto your chest, and then with curled toes and the nails at their tip, I drag down. Hooking the top of your dress, as I too open rivers of red on your big, beautiful, left tit.

“BIIITTTTCCCHHHH!!!” I then shout, as I scramble to get to you. To get atop you. And then sink every sharp weapon at my disposal I have into your flesh.

Ewa:

I scream and flail… The madness has begun…. I didn’t see it happening this way… Not at all… I saw it begin with me striking first… I spent far too much time pondering, would it be a slap, or a backhand… If I would grab you by your hair and whip you into a wall and grind my body against yours… Taunting and spraying your face with spittle, while you weaken and melt away…

But the reality is so different.. The reality has you assaulting.. Has you clinging on too hard, that my own attempts to free my limb cause my body to practically hang in the gap between the chairs, my yellow dress hiked up exposing my white panties and butt cheeks, while I balance on my shoulder blades… But I strike back, fueled by nothing but instinct and rage, slashing across your face…

A swipe that sends you screaming and releasing me… And ironically, with you releasing my legs, the leverage holding me up is gone, and my buttocks sink down into the gap, my arms scrambling to hold myself up….. But then, your foot comes crashing down on my chest… “UUURRGGGARRRGGHHH!!” I grunt as your heel drills into my left tit and you STOMP hard, sending my body falling down, my ass crashing into the floor, my legs up spread and splayed on the seat of your chair, with my shoulders and back leaning against my own chair…. Wedged in the small space, I try to scramble, only to feel the SLASSSHHH across my chest, that destroys the illusion I had, that I disarmed your feet…. Your toe nails, are as sharpened as my own, and I feel the vicious pain of them RAKING down across my tit, before pulling my dress down to show even more skin….

And you don’t stop there, you shriek and THROW your body down, pushing your ass off your chair and you come CRASHING down on mine, your thick round latina ass smashing on my hip as you land in a straddle on me, your claws reaching forwards to me, but I scream and tuck my face between my forearms, roaring as my entrapment seems to be complete now, with the chairs blocking my front and rear and you crashing on the top… But I screech…. “WHOOOREEEE!!!” And shove my claws into the underside of your heaving, young, perky tits, my palms smacking into the blue fabric of the dress, and I PUSH hard…. But there is barely any sag…. Your tits… At the beginning of their fight against gravity are defiant, high, firm, and perfectly spherical… I might have size, but you surely have the firmness, and I HISS in rage curling my hands, firm or not, they can be squeezed, crushed, and stabbed, and I GOUGE my fingertips into the fabric, spreading and then closing them, trying to trap two balls of flesh underneath the material of your dress and PUSH hard UP, MAULING your tits wildly as I try to rock right and left, but I have no leverage with my legs up and draped on the seat you’ve abandoned, so I start to screech and DRUM with my feet hard at the chair, trying to push it away, centimeter at a time so I can get a chance to knock you off, before you capitalize too much on your position…..

Maria:

As it had to. As it should have. Our battle began when our mirrored prides met. Each of us trying to instill in the other the deference and submission we found lacking. First with my heel, then your foot, and then my teeth. 

And yet from that conflict of confidence, we have leaped not into fire but inferno. Each of us unloading every attack we have access to, as soon as it pops in our head that we can. 

A fact made plane by the blood dripping from my right brow and the cheek below it. Blood which drips down on your kicked up dress as I drop from my seat and into a straddle of your hips. My hands and yours moving like lightning to each others tits. Mine, youth-firm and resilient, whereas yours are shaped by heaven and sized perfectly to make me hate you. 

Pairs of mismatched, but equally gorgeous breasts we pry, pinch, and pull at there on the floor of your home. Each of us trying desperately to avoid the cloth our targets, as together we groan, cry, and scream at one another. “CUUUNNNNTTTTT!!!”

But as we suffer and shout, you kick at the green chair behind me. Needing it gone. Needing it pushed away, or perhaps turned over to free yourself and to give your rocking in one direction and then the other even the slightest chance at success. It is a tell that pushes me to lift, to shift, and then to drive my right knee into your abdomen, just below your tits. Abandoning my straddle, and breast grab, as I reach down for your hair, and try to pull you up by the head, towards me, and in a direction you cannot go. My knee compressing your insides as I grunt in effort, your hands, at the distance, straining to keep hold of the tits that taunt you so. 

Ewa:

I didn’t expect anything else…. I went for your breasts, because… They were out there… Because for the last ten minutes of our ‘parlay’, I was eyeing them, among the most of your perfect, pristine, sleepy possessions with absolute envy….. And I saw the way you stared at my chestier bust, and now.. We both unleash at the targets we designate worthy of the first round of torment…. Like two parts of a greater whole, some catty hive mind, we mirror the other’s assault at once and we both SCREAAAM as hard claw-shaped palms SINK into the flesh, my left breast already marked by your sharp toenails, with three open splits bleeding softly down on the yellow fabric, while your claws gouge into the material, attacking what’s beneath with utter fury and envy… Screaming as you GOUGE and PUSH down on me… You’re not bigger or heavier…. Just shaped differently and your thicker ass and rounder thighs grind on my slim hips as you PRESS down on me, until I can feel the wet, cum-stained thong that I mailed you, rubbing against my tanned thighs… “WHOOOOOOOOREEEEE!!!!!”

I kick wildly at the chair behind you, knowing that without my legs on the floor, I can’t brace, lift, or bridge up… That I’d be boxed in this WEDGE between both seats setting me at a permanent disadvantage that I can’t afford against this sharp-fanged WHORE…. I HISS in fury as you lift your body up suddenly, pulling on my breasts and dress then.. “UNNNGGHHH!!!!” Your knee drives down into my upper abs, missing my solar plexus by an inch, but the blow still feels like you rammed through my ribs and shattered them all, as I GASP and shudder, my body hunching more, as my eyes shut in absolute AGONY……. My fingers release your breast in shock, while yours do the same to mine with a purpose, grabbing my hair and you YANK upwards, PULLING me viciously into you, with your knee GRINDING down on my chest as you try to strain and PULL on my follicles and neck, while bending my chest over your knee….

“NNRRRARRRGGGGHHH!!” I scream in agony, tormented as you pivot your weight on that one knee, groaning as my hands completely fall off your chest and I reach down, focusing them on that damned thick thigh trying to drill THROUGH my chest, and I clamp my nails on the thigh from both side, my left paw jamming into the outside and back, clawing and digging my nails into the meaty thigh, while my right claw sinks into the soft inside of your thigh….. The flesh so soft, the skin so flawless…. No cellulite or fat, just youthful fullness that is driving my envy, and right now, is depriving me from any breath, while you seem intent on ripping my head off my shoulders by the hair, my claws MAULING and trying to claw like an Eagle trapped under a boulder….

Maria:

I can feel it deep between my legs. My own excitement. My own lust. Not for you, though you are beautiful. Not from the contact of my flesh and yours, though there is a pleasure to it. But instead because of the violence we share. The suffering we each inflict. The pain that ravages our bodies as together we struggle in the tight confines of small space left between your couch and chair.

It is an excitement turned liquid and liquid turn drip that pitters and patters on your stomach as it drops, slides, and then wells in your belly button as your dress rides high and higher up your body.

A collection of essence I have no time to smirk at, as I pull at your hair. Trying to wind you. To wound you. To rip every follicle of hair out of your scalp. All while I drive my knee down into your abdomen.

“This is just the beginning, CUNT! DO YOU HEAR ME!?” I yell at you, wanting you to feel the same excitement I do. To know that this pain I inflict is only a taste of what I will inflict upon you.

But even as the words leave my mouth you give up on chasing and reaching my breasts, and instead drive your nails into my soft thighs and calves. Dragging them and digging them in as if your life depended on hurting me.

I want to take it. To withstand it. To keep pulling at your hair, and driving the air out of your body until you beg for me to stop. But Your nails are too talented and your hands too skilled. Making every second that I leave my leg in your reach a hell. One I announce again and again, in yelps, cries, and then finally a scream of pain that comes as I try to lift off of you, to readjust. But as I move to stand, you draw your right leg back, and drive your foot into my tit. Driving me back, into the green chair in which I sat. Not softly, but so hard that it tips back, and the in it I crash back to the carpeted floor.

Our war, for a moment stolen from us. Neither able to reach the other. You on your back on the floor, as I lay on mine, in the chair where this all started. “UUUnnnngggghhhh!!!! BITCH!” I rage, as I try to roll off the chair to my feet, though the curved angles of its back keep from doing so, if only for a moment.

Ewa:

We fucking fight savagely, in this uneven warfare… There is no doubt who is getting the worst of it… Even though you’re bleeding from your cheek, and me from my breast… Every passing moment with you on top of me, is showing the wicked intent of this skilled fighting CUNT….

You go from even footing to a straddle to this rib-crushing motion so fluidly and smoothly, and it’s taxing me, causing that agony in my chest bone, and the compression on my ribs….. I scream and dig into your right thigh, trying to punish that leg that is putting me through the grinder, while SCREAMING at the top of my burning lungs from the hairs POPPING off my hair, and my spine bent in this awkward, impossible manner it was not meant to… And perhaps if not for the Yoga and stretching I religiously practice, my spine would have snapped by now……

But finally, you pull back and I flail wildly, trying to thrust you away and you crash into the chair and fall down, screaming as I fall to my side, courtesy of a final YANK on my hair by your hand… And we lay there, at the feet of the two chairs, you halfway atop the toppled down one…… I gasp and cough…… I don’t have much air in my lungs, and my sternum is throbbing in pain, but I know I can’t remain down…. I saw how much you can TAKE if you are atop….

I snarl and watch you trying to roll off the chair and I kick wildly with my left foot, smacking you into your right ankle and sweeping your leg from under you, causing you to fall down, just a delay to put me a split second ahead, as I rise and POUNCE down on you, my right hand going for your right arm trying to grab , while my left goes down towards your right leg, trying to hold your limbs one each side of your body to keep you down, as my head dives down, my mouth opening, and my eyes set on the lower half of your right butt cheek…. RAGE in my eyes as I try to take a CHOMP on your curvy soft flesh, and get a fucking TASTE of you….. “NNRARARRRRRGGHHH!!”

Maria:

Unlike anything I have ever experienced before, you are an addiction, real and actual. My every thought, since first we broke each others heart, fucked the others man, and messaged one another, being about you. About speaking to you and competing with you. At first with words. Then threats. Then pronouncements of our hatred for one another. The excitement of it giving me a thrill that I had never had before.

Every moment where we weren’t violating each other with our words feeling like an eternity and a hell in themselves. And though it was a hell I didn’t think could get worse. As on this chair I writhe like a worm, trying to get free, it is worse.

I want it back.

I need it back.

Our struggle of flesh and claws. Teeth and torment.

That thirst driving me to throw a mini-fit as I finally, I fight to my stomach and try to crawl off the chair to get back to you. But just as I spin you come for me, diving down and bracing yourself against my closest leg and nearest arm. Grips meant not only to keep you up, but to keep me down as you lean in, down, and then sink your teeth into my supple, Latina ass.

One as soft and squishy as I could make it. Knowing it is the new hotness that taken men adore. A quality which serves not as an aid, but a weakness, as your jaw is able to surround and your teeth slice into the soft flesh of my nearest cheek.

You inflicting a chomp that causes me to scream as my eyes shoot wide open. And then complain, as I try desperately to crawl away from you. “BITCH! GET OFF ME! FFUUUUUCCCCCKKKK!”

It is agony, as you keep locked on, punishing me for the bite I gave your toes and all else I inflicted upon you. A revenge I try to escape by reaching out left and then right. Searching for anything I can reach to pull on or hit you with. But as I suffer and search, your bite continues, along with my pain.

Ewa:

I’ve never felt this way before….. This.. HURT… This OUTRAGED… This ANXIOUS for REVENGE on wrongdoings and atrocities that are yet to come…. But above all, I have never felt this.. ALIVE…. This outrageously IN THE FUCKING MOMENT… In my zone and element, with my own blood seeping down from my left breast and the ball of my foot, the crushing pain in my sternum and the BURNS that come with every breath I take…… Like a fish that flopped on a shore for so long, that it forgot the open seas; and now, are thrust back into the ocean, I feel the rush, the NEED for violence and the rage that comes with it, pinning you down and burying my face into your thick, round, soft ass… The ass I KNOW he fucked you in…. My nose dipping into your crack as my teeth clamp on your right cheek, BITING savagely, gnawing and SHAKING my head madly.. Tearing at the flesh as your hiked dress sticks to your back, and I GROWL like an animal…. My hands PUSHING down on your wrist and ankle to keep you pinned…..

But the echoes of pain from your previous attack are still haunting me….. The aches in my sternum, the irregularity in my breathing and my labored lungs that never got a chance to refill force me to release the bite to GASP in for air, and before I can clamp my teeth back again you VIOLENTLY jerk your arm out of my grip and swish with your arm, catching me into my right temple with the back of your knuckle and I YELP in pain falling back, feeling the blinding pain forcing me to shut my right eye and I kick with my legs, rolling away from you, thrashing and flailing as we pant and hiss… I find myself on all fours, kneeling by the long Chesnut wood dinner table… Panting, my left hand pressing on my chest, trying to massage in the pain from your knee, that is slowly fading…. As I glare at you, with my right hand, I grab the edge of the table and slowly lift myself up to my feet… My blue dress now sticking to my flesh by sweat, the skirt falling down to conceal my white thong again, the left side of the chest stained with the blood quietly seeping from my left tit… I snarl and glare at you…. “GET… UP…. CUNT….. I want to TASTE more BITCHMEAT….”

Maria:

You hold me down, and like a fish, stabbed through by a spear, I flop there beneath you. Unable to free myself. Unable to handle the pain of you biting so deep into my ass, that I can feel the warmth of the blood that begins to seep from the teeth-made wound you have branded me with.

For a moment, it dawns on me, that I might be stuck there as you gnaw on the ass I sought to make you kiss. Keeping me trapped as you taste the cheeks Ryan held onto as he fucked me. But then suddenly you pull up, away, gasping for breath as blood drips from your teeth. That’s when I spin, extend an arm, and backhand you. Sending you off and away from me. Into a roll and then on to all fours. Each of us working our way to our feet, desperate and hungry to get back one another.

“I am going to make lick every inch of my body when I am FUCKING DONE WITH YOU, YOU GODDAMN BITCH!” Barely able to restrain my rage or need for revenge. Not just for Jeremy and how quickly you took him, but for every attack and every second you glare at me with your heavenly-hewed eyes.

But as I shout, so do you. Our voices overlapping and increasing in volume as we try to make our point above one another. But as our voice raise, and the audacity shown needles us, we suddenly rush, suddenly dive, and just as you had imagined before I arrived, we sink our hands deep into each others hair.

My mouth shaping into a snarl, my fangs almost dripping, as we stumble together. My legs trying to hook around yours to keep you from escaping from me. To keep your body, your breasts, and yours thighs pressed against mine as blood drips from our hate-fueled bodies.

Ewa:

My right cheek throbs hard… I can feel the ugly bruise swelling just under my eye… Where your hard knuckles hit me with that rogue backhand…… I pant snarling and staring at you…. I see the red tipping your own teeth and staining your bottom lip, the blood you exacted off my foot that just thrubs and aches as I put my weight on it for the first time since you bit it…. I wince and lift my foot momentarily but I ROAR defiantly back with my own screams, trying to hide the weakness as I shift my weight to my left foot and snarl at you; “…. COME AND FUCKING GET IT THEN YOU HORRID CUNNTTT!!! COME AND SEE WHAT JEREMY GOT ALL FUCKING NIGHT!!!” And with the roaring shrieks we RUSH one another, screaming in utter rage and fury as our bodies SLAM together, arms wrapping around the other’s heads as we grab at dark locks and YANK ferociously….

The THUDS of our chests colliding alone make me grunt as air blasts off my mouth and churns your face, covering it with tiny spittle as we PULL hair and I YELP in pain, my scalp still SO fucking tender from the vicious yanking you gave when you had me pinned under your knee, and that, coupled with my wounded left foot, that is leaving bloody spots on the carpet with every spot is making the dance uneven as you rapidly begin to dominate and BULLY the shoving and pushing, and you realize it and EMBRACE it quickly, tangling your thick right thigh around my one good leg, and you PUSH into me forcing me to put more and more weight on my wounded right as I YELP and scream, our hips grinding, our fingers pulling hair out by the fucking root…..

I PUSH my fingers deeper and jam my nails into your scalp and start to RAKE, SCRATCH, trying to DRAG out and PLUCK your hairs out by the ROOTS like a greedy farmer plowing through her crops that she can’t sell during the plight….. My body half limping back, half clinging to you as my ass hits the edge of my dinner table and without delay I THROW my body back, YANKING you savagely by the hair, trying to take us off our feet and with a twist, throw you onto the table with me, hoping the momentum would send me on top of you….. “FRIGID CUNT!!!”

Maria:

It cannot escalate. I cannot feel more. And I cannot feel what I already feel more strongly. I tell myself. I know it as a certainty, and have known since first we spoke. And yet every second that we exist in the same space, I feel myself spiraling. I feel us, spiraling, figuratively, as well as literally. We two mirrored monsters spinning together as we yank, tug, and then after snapping locks from root or pulling them out by their stem, we move to grip again.

And as we so do, I hate you. Loath you. More and more with every uneven revolution. Your limp calling to me and begging to be taken advantage of. But just as I go to stomp on it, and grind my heel down on your bitten and bleeding toes, you work us towards, into, and then throw yourself atop your dinner table.

Then you go to pull and drag me with you. But as you go to make me come, I am already midair, diving at you, atop you. And in our combined efforts, we do not stop with me atop you, or you atop me, but instead roll together. Once and then again, again, and then twice more. Until together we spill off of the table and together crash down to the hard, tile floor of your kitchen’s entrance with a loud thud. Neither of us escaping the ferocity of the collision, as on our sides we land. Our heads hitting the floor, and ribs compressing so hard we lose our air.

Breathless and broken though we are, still do we wrap around each other. Our thighs coiling, calves hooking, and achilles locking as we cling to each other. Pulling together, and pressing cheek to cheek as I whisper to you.

“I … hate … you…., Ewa” The words sound weak and desperate, and yet they come only a hiccups echo before I sink my teeth into your bare shoulder and let my teeth search for more blood.

Our dresses stained, loose, claw-cut, and hanging from shoulders as our moist panties seep between our thighs.

Ewa:

This fiend… Living in my mind… In the dark corridors of my psyche… Reading my thoughts… Acting.. Reacting… Fighting with the insight that can see two steps ahead of my worst plans, or at least it feels like it…. Screaming and battling me…. On our feet in a hairpulling war that puts into context EVERYTHING she did before… The wound to my foot, the ACHES to my scalp… The vicious assault on my chest, constantly bumping and thrusting against yours in the embrace…. Like an architect of destruction, you work the advantage, and with your one free leg I can hear the first false STOMP slamming on the floor, missing my foot, and before the second lands I throw myself on the table, YANKING on you needlessly as you’re already THRUSTING yourself down at me, no doubt somehow reading through the maneuver, and instead of one calculated roll taking me on top, you send us in a spiralling rolling war, our dresses hiking up again, our thighs locking, and I can feel the welts and claw marks I left on your right thigh brushing against my left leg that immediately moves to lock around your free limb, and squeeze on it, letting the muscles flex and squeeze the flesh, causing some of the damp sticky blood to smear off your thigh on mine as we roll wildly, grunting as we fight, wrestling and stopping at the end of the table, I’m on top, trying to put you down, to bang your head into the hard polished Chestnut wood, but you twist and we go back the way we rolled through and off, CRASHING into the head chair, that softens the fall before we slam down to the floor in a heap of arms, leg, and torn hair……

Panting, we croak, gasping for air…. My body trembling, my ribs getting the second vicious blow to them after the abuse of your knee, but you seem wounded too…. Panting as we keep our fingers deep in hair, you whisper….. And I part my lips, panting back in a raspy breath… “I…. hate…. you…. more… Maria….” Snarling as we both turn our heads and our eyes lock… Teeth clenched, our fingers tighten on hair, I give your head a jerk, and you tug on mine… Grimacing as we PUSH together… Hip to hip, belly to belly, chest to chest… Snarling, slowly regaining our strength as we PUSSHHH together, trying to overpower the other… Our thighs tightening more, and locking further….. Grunting as we rock, one way, then another…. Hissing, panting, but your thicker hips make it so much harder to roll you over, so instead, I suddenly PULL on your hair, yanking your head and opening my mouth, and as you roll atop of me I BITE at your forehead, sinking my teeth into the shallow skin as I YANK hard and roll us over again with the momentum, snarling as my saliva drools on your forehead, thumping and rolling our way down the short hallway, taking us deeper into the house and to the open kitchen….

Maria Soul:

It is a violent, vicious descent from table to tile. So much so that the chair we strike midway blends in pain and way, leaving me barely even aware that we struck it. And though my senses are too stimulated by anger and violence to pick up on one blow amongst many, still do I fight you. Pulling you into me, as you pull me into you.

We fighting at that moment, as wildly and as wickedly as we had before, though not each other. No, as in that slow, grinding and writhing of bodies, we fight the exhaustion. The pain. The delirium of more emotions than we can handle and more pain than we have ever shared.

But slowly we wake and recover. Each of us whispering of our hate, in low, growl-like hisses. Mine coming just before an attempted bite, that you pull me back from. Yanking at my hair, just as my teeth were to set in, and then looking me in the eyes as I move to straddle you. Your head then angling, jaw then opening, and teeth them clamping down on my forehead.

The dried blood from your earlier slashing of toes no doubt being the copper you taste as you let your teeth sink in. A depression of teeth and shredding of flesh that causes me to scream out, as a new font of blood begins to pour forth. One that covers my eyes in crimson as I reach down, though in agony, for your dress and all that might lay underneath it. Pulling it up and over your arms, then your chin with one arm. The flesh you keep in your teeth being the only blockade that keeps me from stripping you down to your panties.

And though the pain I suffer is announced again and again through out my effort in cries and groans, I suddenly drive my head forward, driving the hard bone beneath my tearing flesh into your teeth and slamming the back of your head against the floor.

My hope being, that if I can get you to release your bite I can blind you with your dress, and then begin some new, endlessly cruel assault.

Ewa:

We struggle and fight in a bleeding, savage, hateful MESS…… A woman in her mid 30s, against one who barely left her teens… United by nothing… Except the black savage hatred for one another, and the deep desire for revenge…. A decision to abolish societal norms and civility… To battle this over what it is…. A primal, feral, feminine breeding war……

You took my man’s seed….

And I took yours….

And while I’m the last in a long string of felines that you have challenged with a mouth dripping of cum…. All the betas cowered… And I stayed, and struck back…. We can feel it in our chests, and our loins… That desperate NEED to punish the other… To right the wrong… And to prove, who is better… the wound caused to you by Brisa; a lesson that perhaps you regret not heeding it’s call….

Like a werewolf, she bit you in the heart, and now, you have done to me…. But instead of seeking another to sink my fangs into; I turned to you, and here we are… Rolling, writhing, pulling and shredding the blood stained dresses, ripping hair and biting faces…. I can taste your blood running down my throat and staining my chin, and I don’t let go.. I GROWL even as you release my hair to pull my dress up, ripping it in pieces to make it go past my head, as we writhe and rock… And as you shred it off, leaving me in my white thong and bra, you can feel my right nipple, sticking out of the bra cup, pressing against your cleavage…… And then…. You brace and fire your assault….

Your skull DRILLING into my teeth, smashing my skull into the ground and I GROAN in pain, an explosion of pain filling my mouth and with it, a little boney bead that swirls into my mouth…. Stunned and dazed as my mouth fills with blood, that is mine, courtesty of a busted bottom lip, I cough weakly, stunned as my gaze turns glassy, staring at your face pulling off mine, and the savage glare into your face as I hack and cough, spitting off the bottom half of one of my front teeth that got chipped by the savage headbutt…..

Maria:

Above you I am, but I am trapped in suffering as you bite and gnaw so cruelly at my forehead. Keeping me from pulling back, or standing up. Keeping me at bay and in pain, as I cry out in pain. My hands slapping at you, and clawing at you, but to no avail. The sounds of my every moment of anguish no doubt music to your ears, as yours would be to mine.

And though I feel helpless, there as you torture me, I know I must escape. Must get your teeth to unclench so that I can live another day with a face, let alone continue fighting. And so I do, the only thing that I have in my mind. The only hope I can focus on, as slowly my flesh tears. A headbutt. A slamming of the bone beneath the flesh to you rip, into the very teeth that rip.

It is an attack I do not think long or hard about. One that I do not analyze and weigh against other alternatives. Instead I just seize it. Grasp at it. And then in desperation, but into effect.

An effect that comes with a slam, a scream, and then a thud. The first two from me and the latter from you. Sounds which echo through your home as I wear a mask. A crimson mask of blood dripping from the center of my forehead, coating the nose, cheeks, and lips below it. But I am free. Your bite loosened by a sudden surge of force that drove you down and back into the hard, tile floor.

The sting of your teeth still reverberating through me as I snap back and away from you. Back into my straddle, and then in a slide off of you to the kitchen floor to your side. There I sit, there I gather, and there I try to see through my red visage to plan what horror awaits us both.

All as there below me, you sputter and spit. Your head wobbling as you try to find your bearings. But you are not alone, as I am dizzy too. Even as I reach down for your hair, pull you up, and then when I have you in front of me, spit the blood on my lips in your face. Then, as the mix of saliva and spit begin to slowly slide down, I reach around you, unclasp your bra, and then when I have it, tear it from your body.

Ewa:

I can’t feel a thing…. Or is it actually that I can feel.. EVERYTHING.. AT ONCE.. Explosions, noise, screaming, rasping, choking, pain, aching…. I’m almost drowning in my own blood that seeps and pools at the back of my throat…. My skull feels like it was cracked open like an egg that just fell off the counter to the hardwood floors…. Dazed.. Raspy… Aching…… I shudder and try to twist one way…

Then another… But there is a severance between the chain of command in my thoughts, and the receptors at my muscle ends…

All I can feel is your weight pressing on mine…. Your body grinding me, then shifting, adjusting.. The familiar press of the once-mine thong, soaked, pressing into my lower abs, prompting me to panic and expect another onslaught from you… But instead…. You push off me and I lay there, moaning, sobbing, spitting out blood and the chipped tooth, my nails clawing weakly at the new hardwood….. As my sweat and blood creeps into the little gaps between the tiles… Surely to congeal and harden, and remain there, impossible to clean or fully scrub clean… An ever reminder to what transpired on these floors….

But as I struggle to get my bearings straight, you move… You don’t stop… You never stop…. You grab my hair and slowly pull me up…. My weight is dead in your hands, so you bring me up to my knees, and no more… As I slump down… Still dazed… My arms slapping and grabbing, my fingers weakly smacking your thighs and sliding down along the sweaty limbs…. And you return the spit by spraying my face with your blood, like an Octopus spraying her ink on a prey, as you sneer and then while my body sags into you, my breasts pressing on your thighs I can feel you removing the bra…. Unclasping it….. And the pressure supporting my breasts fades, with the bra now only held in place by being trapped between my chest and your legs….

I can hear the satisfying hiss from your lips as you disorbe me… Systematically, despite you being technically fully dressed, your blue garment torn and shredded, but still hanging on your flesh, pulled up, exposing the little baby fat above your hip…… The fat that I turn my head to, and with one chipped front tooth, I sink into, biting bitterly, my hands reaching around your thighs, and hugging them tightly, to stop you from kicking or kneeing me in the chest, as my claws scrape up, sinking into your lower back and with a wild YANK, pulling down my nails across your skin, while trying to peel your thong down….. Determined to return the insult by disrobing you even a little….

Maria:

We rushed into violence. Sprinted into viciousness. And then fought one another as if our very lives were on the line from the very moment you extended your foot between my thighs. It seemed as if we might fight forever at that same din of hatred and malice. That we would never slow or tire. Weaken or wish that the pain would stop.

And yet here, now, I can feel it. Not knipping at my heels but tackling me to the ground as it runs off with what was my seemingly endless reserve of energy. Leaving me wounded and shaking as I fight to my feet. Tears filling my eyes, though I have taken your dress, your bra, and spit in your face.

I hate them, those tears. I hate myself, for being anything other than the cruel, ice queen that I present myself to be. But still, despite that hate, I cry as I try to pull you up. Scream out in pain, as mid-pull, you latch your teeth into my soft, baby fat covered hips. And then panic, as I feel your claws drive into my back, and then scrape down — taking my panties with them. My feet moving to take me away from you, but you have me bound and tied, with your arms.

And so in my already unstable state, I begin to wobble, to topple, and then to fall. Not forward and on top of you. Not back into the living room, and the blood stained carpet. But to the left, and deeper into the kitchen. My palms extending, turning, and then reaching out in landing on the hard floor as I try to catch myself and then crawl away from you.

Ewa:

We are beating each other down….. This is not a fight… This is a slaughter…. A ravaging….. The enactment of what you promised, when I took your heel off…. There will be no rules… and those heels, were the least of my worries…. You pull on my hair… You’ve caused so much damage to it… So many strands are off, hanging with nothing, webbed to other strands that are barely holding on, littering the carpets and hallway and hardwood flooring….. My scalp bleeding in so many spots and aching, but you don’t stop…

You want to humiliate and hurt me, while bringing me up… But it’s my exhaustion that is my savior here, as you stubbornly try to lift my 118lbs up, and as you struggle to do it, I strike, with a chipped tooth and catching your stomach, biting into it, and ripping down, you scream and try to move, but my arms bind you, and you fall into me, my eyes remain shut, I expect it, the drop that will bash my skull a second time to the floor, and end this…. But instead, you act on instinct, and your palms slap on the floor and come shy from bashing my head a second time, but the jolt frees your stomach and you throw your body the side, breaking my weak hug on your legs and kicking your thong down your legs you crawl away, dragging your bottom naked body out of the kitchen and towards the family room, while I turn and weakly start to push my topless body after you… Hissing, snarling…..

I reach and grab your left ankle, my nails sinking into it but you Jerk your leg violently freeing it and you KICK back, missing my face…. I snarl and we both push up to our knees… Panting, sobbing… “Come… back… here… COWARD….” I snarl at you as we crawl on our knees on the carpet of the family room….. You’re crawling towards the long sectional sofa….. Both leaving stains of sweat and blood on the floor as I chase after you, but as you push up higher to your feet and I do, I LUNGE for you but you turn facing me, as I crash into you, shoulder to gut, and I send us crashing to the sectional… Grimacing as my hands reach up behind you, but instea dof hair, I grab for the back of your dress by the neckline, my right knee pushing down, trying to get your gut or chest, but instead, I settle for your left thigh that I jam my knee into it and PULL hard, trying to pull my body and RIIIIIPPPP your dress from the back, ragging it so I can shred it off your fucking arms…..

Maria:

I am the ice queen. I am the cruel, vicious hellcat come to punish. And yet, as the full burden of our battle and weight of our war comes crashing down, like me to your kitchen floor, I begin to crawl. Not back to you, but away. Not to inflict some new horror but to escape the same.

I wanted to scratch. I wanted to claw. I wanted to bite. With no rules. With no limits. And yet, here in this cage of my own creation, I find myself unable to breathe. Unable to think. Unable to see, both from the blood pouring down my face, and the dizziness that comes with the mania we exist in.

Then I hear you say it. Name it. My crawling as cowardice. The accusation should make me stop and turn. Fire and flare. But instead I continue, just needing a moment to breathe. A moment to exist without the pain we inflict on each other bearing down on me.

But you give chase, and follow me. Each of us crawling, until finally, I turn and you lunge. Your shoulder burying into my abdomen. A blow that causes me to sputter and cough, and then collapse back onto the sectional. But before I have a chance to grab you and fight back, you are working. Pulling. And prying my dress from my body. Shredding it as you yank it off of me. Leaving me in nothing more than my bra, and you your panties.

It is then, that for the first time, you can see fear in my eyes. Fear like I saw in yours when I first arrived. It won’t stop me from fighting, in fact it will drive me. But the look must feed you, somewhere in your black soul.

The realization that you have broken my confidence and certainty. That even in the age you perceive and I poked at to anger you, you are more than I could have imagined.

More though you are, still, when my dress comes off, and as you work to rid us of it, I lean up into your body from my back, find your rock-hard right nipple and then latch. Not like a baby on her mother’s tit, but with teeth and a snarl. My every limb then wrapping around you, and pulling you down on top of me, to keep you from reaching a straddle, and to make sure I can keep my gnawing bite held.

Ewa:

We began for him…. And him… For two men, but was it really about them??? Or was it just the awakening… Were they simply the two triggers, the switches that got flipped deep inside of us, and sending us into our PRIME states….. Into the same frenzy and territorial savagery that our ancestors once roamed the planet with…. An evolutionary necessity, that were numbed and lulled into a false sense of security by society, wedding rings, vows, and the calls to be sweet, soft, reasonable….

Sitting in circles and passing a pillow to listen and hear each other out…. To hug an enemy, and tell them with a fake smile, that we forgive them….. No.. No.. FUCK THAT… And FUCK THIS BITCH!!! I would scream it if my jaw was not aching, and filling constantly with blood from my busted lip and chipped tooth, pouncing down on you, screeching as I grab your dress, yank, rip, shred, and SCREAM…. The blue tatters, cheap; but not as cheap as their wearer come off, and I can see your flesh… The bruises spotting the flesh… Marks that were concealed by your garment.. Marks that show me that you are not invulnerable.. That you HURT…. And coupled with the glint of fear in your young eyes, just send an inferno inside my chest, roaring; “YOU FUCKING BIIIITTCHHH!!!!!”

But before I can swipe with my thread and fiber tangled claws across your face… Before I can tear even more cuts on those soft baby cheeks, you LUNGE forwards, and you bury your face into my right breast, i YELP as I can feel the soft touch of your nose, the stickiness of blood on your cheeks and tenderness of lips at first… But I know.. I know what will follow…You SHOVE your face in flattening my tit as your arms and legs snap up, like a baby koala wrapping it’s limbs around it’s mother…..

But then… The reality hits… HARD… And along with it, your teeth that SNAP at my nipple, not the areola or tit, you focus on the small head, and my body SHUDDERS like it got tazed…. Your limbs holding me in place, the loving embrace turning to what it is; a black widow CLAMPING on her prey; a tarantula clutching a bird and sinking her fangs into it, and I SCREAAAAM as my body falls into you, and while my feet remain on the floor, I SINK into you further, screeching as you BITE madly on the nipple, my fingers reach into your hair, clawing at your scalp, but I do not DARE pull…… You would rip it off… You could cleanly slice it off my chest and my best bet right now is to ride the pain….. While convincing you to not clench those jaw muscles and slice with your sharp incisors until it snips…. My thumbs spreading down, and as you SMEAR my tit with the blood covering your face, I push my thumbs down and over your brows, curling them and I press my thumbs on your shut eyelids, applying small pressure to your eyeballs, and letting you feel my thumb nails pressing towards your tear ducts….. And with a deep gruff snarl I hiss; “GO ON….. RIP IT OFF…. I WILL GOUGE THEM OUT… I SWEAR ITTTTT!!”

Maria:

She has given in, you must have thought. Realized you are the better woman, better catfighter, and admitted her place beneath you, you no doubt expected when I wrapped my arms and legs around you. The soft embrace, along with the tearful look in my eyes feeding you exactly what in truth we might need, somewhere in our darkened hearts.

A bonding of broken, hateful women. Not mother and daughter, but so similar that it feels as if we are. Did you hear them? My sobbing, hitches. Sounds I released into your bosom, seconds before I bit. What would you have done to me? What outcome would such an alternate happening have had?

We will never know. For though as we battle, I feel a kinship and a bond, I will never soften. Never relent. Even if I give in and my will breaks, I will hate you. I will curse you. I will resist you.

Not because of Ryan or Jeremy. The panties you sent me, or the video you made me watch. No, but instead because our hate. Our malice. This pain we share, is the truth of it. The truth of us.

There not residing in us some soft, gooey center underneath a hard, spikey shell. This is who we are, this is who we were. Even if until this moment, until this fight, we never knew. And though that should make us rage on, and inflict as harshly as we possibly can. After sliding, slowly, in a wrapped mass of bruised and battered flesh, off the side of the sectional, and then down to the carpeted floor, we relent, if only in part.

You bringing your thumbs to my closed eyes, and threatening to gouge if I tear your nipple from your body. Just as I, knowing how vulnerable I am, let my jaw loosen and biting ebb. Not to a release, but a slow, methodical gnaw.

All as we lay there, with you in my arms, and my back against the couch. It is a message. A test. An offer. I won’t bite your nipple off, but I won’t let you go. Will you accept it, or demand your complete release.

A question I leave you to answer as I move my holding hands down your body, to your panties, and begin to pull them down.

Ewa:

Two scorpions writhing in the dirt…. With their claws locked, their tails curled, tangled, stingers pointed to the other’s carapace……Flinching, twisting and stirring the fine sand particles…. Two creatures biologically programmed to wrestle and struggle, until one plunges, and the other is impaled and stabbed…. And we… We’re not any better, or superior to them.. With our intellect, beauty, numerous gifts, here we are…. Your teeth cutting into and bleeding my nipple, and my claws covering your eyes…. Threatening with retaliation… And time just stops… We breathe… We hiss, we wince…. But your grip on me remains, your claws sinking into my back, your ankles cross behind my thighs…. Your nostrils continue to flare and suck in breath….. And then… Your jaw begins to relax….. But you don’t release the bite…..

Instead you CHEW, and I MOANNN in pain, my fingers curling and my nail tips press into your tear ducts, with a hiss, but you ease your bite again, then CHEW… And I HOWWWL in pain.. But this time, I don’t gouge deeper… I got the message… You won’t rip… You won’t mutilate me… But you won’t let go of me either…. We won’t scar each other for life….. But we will… LEAVE… our marks… You’re DARING me to compete…. To FIGHT…. To take the pain as I can feel a trickle of blood roll down my exposed chest….. I seethe.. Sob…. Groan… Then with a clench of my teeth, I pull my right hand off your face…. While my left, slides up, over your bitten, bleeding forehead and into your bangs, curling my fingers, stabbing my nails into your scalp….

My right hand, reaches down between us… You can feel it wiggling between our heaving waists… My toned abs, and your thick, round belly…. I skip over the teeth marks I left on your soft, creamy flesh, and go down, and you feel it, my hand on your naked, exposed cunt…. My thumb and index fingernails, flanking your clit….. Throbbing… Hard…… Poking like a little sword up, I felt it rubbing against my thighs, across my lower abs…. And over my soaked panties….. I felt it, and now… You feel my sharp slicers around it as you surround my nipple with your incisors…. And i PINCH it hard….. PINCH… and TWIST….. PINCH… and PULL… Hissing, pushing my left foot off the floor, and sliding my knee on the edge of the sofa, PUSHING my body into yours more, driving you into the cushions, as I slowly gesture my acceptance to your challenge… This endurance war of AGONY…. Tooth vs Claw…. Nipple vs Clit…… My left hand twisting at the wrist, pulling, plucking at your bangs, letting out a deep guttural HISSSS….

Maria:

I said it so calmly. So certain that I would never need their bounds. “No rules.” But I did not know. We did not know. How true our threats were in those emails and texts we exchanged. How quickly our egos would push us from being women to animals.

How swiftly we would try to end one another with bites, blows, scratches, and all else.

And so, breaking my own demand, I offer it without words. Propose it without popping lips and sliding syllables.

Sanity.

For a moment, as your pressing thumbs linger over my eyelids, I fear you will stab. That you will gouge. And refuse my offer of limitation. After all, it was I who dared you to fight me without confines or curfews of caused catastrophe.

But then I feel your digits pull back, your body adjust, your limbs move, and as I continue to bite you. Tasting the muted copper of your bloody breast, I know you have accepted.

And so I settle into my chew and suckle. Your blood dribbling into my mouth as I relax my body, but press the hold of my lower limbs. All as my hands finally finish their good work, and pull your soaked panties down your sexy thighs. Letting them drop the rest of the way, before I move my claws to your ass.

But just before I go to dig my nails into you once again, I feel it. Your hand snake between our bodies, my thighs, and then seize at my clit. The attack makes me cry out in pain, my still flowing tears coming quicker, and leaking down your breasts as you lock us into a competition of surviving the other’s torture.

A game that begins with your hiss as a declaration of terms. Terms I alter as suddenly, and after I have set to endure even more damage being done to the softest part of my body, I finally latch my nails into your ass and begin to stab, drag, and then begin again.

Your body, pressing into mine, harder and harder, as I sob into your breasts and yelp with every twist of clit and pinching of the pursed lips that surround it.

Ewa:

Will we…?? Cross that line??? Will you CHOMP your teeth, severing my nipple…. And if you do… Would I dare plunge my claws into your eyes… Would I take from you even more?? Will I have the resolve, or would my cowardice and hesitation reign, and opt to falling back, clutching the permanent wound on my breast, lamenting that you have taken something from me, an actual PART of me that is not just symbolic or emotional…..

I don’t know the answer to any of these questions, except that I… am terrified of the answer to each… But it seems you opt for sanity, easing the bite, and shifting the pressure to the molars, CHEWING instead of CHOMPING…. and as I HISS, I feel your claws pulling my panties down, leaving them around my thighs, exposing me as well, and as you STAB your nails in, I YELP and PINCH your clit…. You HOWL in pain, and I take the moment to PULL your head back by my grip on your bangs… The back of your head jams into the couch, and your neck cranes back, but your nails SHOVE into my ass nonetheless and I SLUMP into you, my bleeding chest pressing just above yours…. My head tucked down GLARING at you as we MOAN and CRY in pain… My right arm dipping lower to keep the touch, the hold on your clit and I PINCH it harder…. My teeth clenched, my lips stretched as we GROAN and TORMENT each other……. “Biiiiiitttttttttttttchhh!!!” I squeal in immeasurable pain, feeling you mauling and womanhandling my smaller, rounder buttocks…..

My knees grind into the couch, dimpling the cushion we are sitting on, my feet up in the air, my toes curled in agony, slowly I release your hair, and lean down with my head, forehead to bleeding forehead, noses pressing and flicking, our lips inches apart, eyes locked in a duel of savage pain and ill-wills…. My left hand reaching down, my nails starting at your right armpit, I rakkkke down, until my fingers slip under the side strap of your bra… Giving it a TUG… It holds, but I don’t give in….. I won’t reach behind you to fumble with the clasp…… I’m impatient, and my urge to disrobe you is URGENT….. So I wrap my fingers around the side strap and start to JERK hard, almost like I’m trying to elbow an invisible enemy behind me.. Each YANK prompting grunts from both of us, the frame of the bra sinking into your flesh….. The wire dragging across your chestbone…. The shoulder straps biting into your shoulders until it BREAKS and PULLS out in my grip, remaining tangled around your chest as my thong is around my thighs…. And as I feel your own sore, swollen nipples poking at my flesh, I lean down and with my front teeth, one chipped, I BITE at your upper lip venomously…..

Maria:

We are not flipping furniture over, or flipping over furniture, and yet here in this cocoon of hate and violence, I feel more truth, and more comfort than I have ever felt before. Yes, I am in agony, as you pinch, and claw at my kitten. Yes, I am drooling and sobbing as I bite at your bleeding nipple. But in all of that, we are bringing veracity to our claims. That we would hurt. That we would punish. That we would test and tear at each other in the most intimate ways possible.

It is both heaven and hell.

Purgatory and providence.

A dichotomy of presence and preference that does little to stop my lips from parting in a pure, guttural, moan of agony. A moment of lapsed biting you use to pull my head up, by your cruel grip in my hair. Hair that clings weakly to the red, scratched, and swollen scalp beneath it.

It is then, for the first time in so long that we look into each other’s eyes. Eyes which blink closed with every new digging of nails and dragging of digits. But still we do not break our gaze. Even as you start to pry, pull, yank, and shred my bra. Wanting it, the last piece of fabric between us gone.

A demand you make happen, as loosely it falls in tatters around me. Exposing my breasts, when you lean back just far enough to let it fall from them and to my stomach. Then, with it gone, you press your tits — no, slam your tits into mine. A wince coming from your face, after all the damage I have done to them returns and intensifies with the collision.

Not wanting me to see it, how much I have hurt you, you then surge forward. Not with your body, but your mouth. Clamping your teeth down on my upper lip, only a fraction of a second before I do the same to your bottom. Each of us chewing on each other’s mouth when I start to press into you with my left shoulder and breast. Looking to roll us. To turn us. Even as with a passion unlike any other I have ever felt, I bite at your lip. Our mixed blood coating our hateful kiss.

Ewa:

“UUNNGGGRRAAWWHHHH!!!” I groan as your teeth snap at my bottom lip….. You were waiting… You were ready…. And as your perfect incisors jam into my bottom lip, with my chipped one into yours we both groan and begin to TUG and turn our heads….. Stretching the lips….. Seething and snarling like two predators…… My right tit is on FIRE…. The shove I intended, magnified into a THRUST thanks to your claws PULLING me by my ass is causing my badly aching tit and bleeding nipple to grind into your chest…

A stinging pain that you keep on going, the way you RUB and MASSAGE your relatively intact chest into mine…. You’ve ached my chest bone by your knee… We’re BOTH done some damage with our tit mauling while we both were covered….. I have bleeding claw marks above my left tit and the bite wound on my right aerola and nipple….. And yet I GRIND back into your younger chest as we SEETHE and SNARL….. Grimacing as we push into the couch…. My right hand still pinching your clit… Causing you to SHIFT noticeably, lifting your ass off the seat as your legs squirm and slide around my hips…. My left paw clutching the outside of your bulging right tit, squeezing and mauling it at the same intensity that you are mauling my ass……

But the star of the show seems to be our mouths, biting lips, my blood seeping down with gravity into your mouth and wetting your chin as you growl…. Glaring at me… Hissing, snarling as we turn to the side and you THRUST your left shoulder forwards… “NNNGGRARRRGHH!” I grunt as you bash your tit into my wounded right one and I flinch pulling my shoulder back and you PUSH more, tilting me and with your legs loosely around me you almost ease me to my back on the sectional, with your body pushing down on me…

I can feel your weight atop of me…. Alarmed and incessed I bend my legs and push my feet to the cushion and try to THRUST up but you lift your hip to avoid the bridging, causing my hand to slip off your clit, and instead, my own pussy SMACKS into yours, and I hear YOUR moan as my clit slams into your abused one… And without delay I PUSSSH up more and turn sending us flopping to our sides, your back to the back of the cushion, trapped between me and it… Your hands clawing my ass, but you don’t push me away, instead, you PULL me in and our soaked, naked pussies SLAP with a SQUISHING sound, the sensation enough to make the bites loosen and and we both MOANNNN in pain-minced delight, before locking our lips again ,but this time, without teeth… We jam our bleeding lips together, suckling and chewing, as our hips gyrated and fuse together, rocking and grinding……. “… bitch….” — “…. cunt….” —- “… whore…” — both hissing abrupt insults into each other’s mouths, our bodies suddenly taking control in this URGE to relieve the built up pressure….

Maria:

It was wild. It was insane. It was non-stop. Our battle of the bitches. From the moment I bit your toes, until finally in the kitchen we broke each other and the pace we had held. Snapping our frantic war from the teeth of mania.

Not because we wanted to.

Not because had found some reservoir of mercy.

But because we could not do anything else but slow and simmer. Our bodies wounded. Energy and stamina depleted. And minds, which had once thought only of victory, turning to survival — even as we continued to compete, clench, and carve our names into each other’s flesh.

And so we crawled. Me to an illusory moment of peace, and you after me to stop me from finding it. Our bodies thereafter finding themselves stripped and pressed together, as we moved from a slowing tone of terror to a pause. One in which we laid together, there at the foot of the couch, hurting each other in the most intimate way possible. Me biting at your nipple, as you pinched, pried, and pulled at my sensitive clit.

Then finally our eyes and naked breasts met as we howled for each other. In pain and agony. The sight and sounds of it like catnip to us. Seeing our hated rival suffer and sob at and in our hands.

A revelation that led us to lean in and bite, to nibble, and to bite at each other’s lips. A lie we told each other, to find salve and salvation. Something to allow us to release the desire swelling and swirling inside of us. The lust we had allowed ourselves to feel and discuss so freely in our emails and texts reawakening in us. Not instead of the anger, jealousy, and hate we felt but because of it.

But those bites softened as we wrestled for position and gave way to moans, as we fought our way from the floor onto the sectional behind us. And then when we could take not another second without purging all that plagued us, we let ourselves have it. The release. The ravishing we both wanted so badly at that moment.

An allowance that led us to hear and now, where on your couch, in the middle of your room, we fuck. Cursing at each other between and into kisses of loathing and dances of tongue. Knowing this is only a sojourn and dalliance, and that as soon as we have cleansed ourselves of this traitorous trip down the carnal canal we will once more fight. Once more hurt. And once more punish one another. For all that happened before this break of bodies and breathing in hitch, and even because of it.

Something I make clear, as mid thrust, I dig my hands into the back of your hair, and tug. Not back, but forward. Making you kiss me, so that our tongues can fight. Forcing you closer, so that I can drag my rigid nipples across your wounded breasts. And dragging you closer, so that with every firing of hips I can make the unspoken promise of all the pain that is yet to come … once we cum.

Ewa:

We writhe…. We are partaking into the impossible… The taboo… For weeks, we have invaded each other’s lives and minds, like aggressive cancer, spreading and multiplying, until there was nothing but hatred… The cracked stained mirror that shone the reflection of the ugliness beneath, that has hounded our lives and entire beings… The monsters beneath the skin…. And now, with the skin ripped and peeled like cracked rock, letting out the magma, running red and warm on our flesh and skin, we engage in what I thought would never happen… A fuck fight…

I wouldn’t call it sex…. Because we are not trying to pleasure each other….. It’s not love making because there isn’t an ounce of tenderness…. It’s not an act of procreation and yet; there is a carnal URGE that makes me push into you, my legs splayed wide at the knees, with your own spread wide, still around my body but no longer squeezing; simping holding… I have a leg up the back of the sofa for grip and brace, and to open myself more… And you have the heel of one foot shaved into the small of my back above my clawed ass, TUGGING and YANKING me itno you….. A woman in her mid 30’s and a teen, fucking wildly and with the utter hatred…. A hatred you brought into my life, passed to you by the mysterious Brisa….. A shadow looming over your past…. A woman my age, who bears more connections to you than I knew….

And now, as we hump and grown I feel you pulling me in, still harboring so much strength in your younger body, pulling me in and making me MOAAAN as you FORCE your tits dominantly into mine… Your chest deceptively coated in red, but it’s blood that seeped from your lips, forehead, and other cuts…. While my right breast is pulsating agony, I wince and you slowly push me back, rolling atop of me, your young supple body atop of me… But I answer you in kind….. My lips grinding with yours, our tongues pushing for the other’s throats… I reach down, spreading my fingers over your thick, shuddering, clapping cheeks that SMACK together as loud as our own flesh is thumping…..

My fingers reaching down and spreading over your buttocks, and I slip my finger tips, just a the bits of my nails into your crack, and curl, into the walls of your sweaty cleavage and PULL violently, splitting your cheeks and I PULL you down into me with rage, thrusting UP, and driving my clit into your wounded one…… Both shamelessly using the targets, the chinks in the other’s armor… My right nipple, your clit to assault one another while we use our sexuality to weaken the other, my body tilting slightly, trying to push you slowly, yet surely to lean to your left, towards the off side of the couch…… My hands rubbing your ass cheeks in a circle, CLAPPING them together then PULLING them apart and DOWN into my thrusting cunt…. My eyes wide, glaring at you defiantly…..

Maria:

Every wife whose home I wrecked. Every woman whose boyfriend I slept with. And every message sent to the victims of both kinds, was a tool and a tonic. The helpless victim in a game I played to not only amuse myself, but to turn myself on. To find fire and passion, when somehow, everything else seemed dull.

Yes, there was a thrill in sex. With Jeremy or the men I would trap and then claim before throwing away. But that thrill paled in comparison to stabbing my dagger into the hearts of women, just as Brisa had done to me. To call them, and speak to them on the phone. To write messages back and forth until they agreed to meet me and settle things, or refuse to do so, before they disappeared into the wreckage of a life I had left them.

Sometimes they would even ask to call me. And in those late night discussions I would finger myself as I spoke to them. Playing with my clit and nipples as they would sob on the other end of the phone. Letting them take those conversations wherever they wanted. Into angry back and forths. Or calm, collected conversations about consequence and carry-through.

As it was the power I had over them that excited me. The control I felt, while watching my prey use me as a shoulder to cry on or a villain they wanted to defeat.

But you. You fought back in a way the others didn’t. You came for me. Stalked me. And then before you had even acknowledged me, slept with my Jeremy. It made you different from all the other prey. It made you a challenge. An equal. And in an instant, what I thought turned me on changed.

I didn’t want the weak or the witless. The girls who met me in hotel rooms to wrestle, only to leave with the leavings of my essence coating their pretty, tear-stained face. I wanted you. I wanted this.

A battle of bodies and beauties so intense and passionate that desire overwhelms us both. A desire to fight with more than just our claws, more than just our teeth, and with every weapon we have available to us.

Chief among them our womanhoods, which between us we slam together again and again. At our cores. At our centers. Sloppy, heated lips slapping together and then by suction, clinging until we pull them apart, only to then repeat the same.

A process which began with us on our sides, but then continues until I have you on your back and beneath me. I have you! I think to myself. On the edge and on the ropes. Even as you play and claw at my nether crevice, between bitten cheeks.

Confident though I am, I then feel it, you leaning, you pulling, trying to ease me off of you and off the couch. I go to adjust and defend, but at the very moment I do, you thrust up and find just the right angle. Just the right aim. And when you do, I shudder, and scream, before burying my face in your shoulder.

My plight is obvious, and distraction grand, and so you keeping going. Fucking me, even when my hips stop. And pushing me to the side, even as it seems like I am bereft of defense. My lips moving to your nearest ear as I moan for you like a whore. Sounds of sexual domination I offer as suddenly we tip and fall from the couch. Me landing on my back, with you atop me. My legs spread side. Eyes closed. And an orgasm welling so quickly within me I can do not but try to fight it.

Ewa:

My knowledge has ended weeks ago, and I found myself staring at the terrifying gap of terra-incognita… My life experiences found themselves stumped, glaring at the dark abyss of the days and weeks to come…. I have never felt this way… Never been this way… Always the stalked, but never the stalker…. Always the obsessed with, but never the obsessive… I’ve kept many up at night, and yet, with puffy red eyes I stumbled to my coffee mug at the morning; hating it’s taste, as I’ve always been a tea-girl….

But it’s a thing I had picked, along with Jeremy that day I went in the coffee shop after you left, to exact my revenge…. And I have found the bitter taste much needed for me to operate, slowly becoming part of the toxic addiction that is having you in my life…. And right now…. I don’t even feel any guilt… I don’t feel any shame… I don’t give a fuck that I’m locked on my couch, bloodied, naked, writhing in a feverish grinding of the loins and a bloody kiss with a girl who is closer in age to a daughter, than a rival of mine……

What we’re doing, is illegal in more ways than I count, and go beyond just assault charges, it would turn all my friends away, would make my family abandon me, and even Ryan switch from the apologetic buffoon, into an indignant, appalled fuck… But who cares… Who cares so long this feels so painfully right… This embrace, the moaning and groaning and writhing beneath you, as you claim the upper position once again, but this time…. I’m adamant to show you, that it’s not going to be the end of the line…. I thrust and teeter, and nail you in the clit, and you yelp, but I don’t relent, I keep pushing, tilting us as the kiss breaks and your mouth closes on my shoulder, but not in a vicious bite, but one of passion, and I bury my face into your hair as we tip and CRASH to the floor….

Our legs splayed, and our naked bodies still writhing and grinding, Groans filling the air, we don’t stop, we don’t cease, you toss a leg over the coffee table…. I toss a knee on your other thigh… I angle and thrust furiously and violently… Moaning as we buck and fuck like angry animals…. Until you suddenly begin to gush and moan…. And I’m not that far behind.. I squeeze my eyes, and with them, my kegels, and let your cunt spray me first, before my flood gates collapsing, and my nectar seeping down, running down on your sex wildly….. I arch my head back and shudder, as we both cum hard, orgasming, fingers clutching each other and our bodies rocking, then, we just collapse into each other….. Panting, breathing… Hard…. A reprieve???? A stalemate??? A draw??? Oh– I hope you’d think so.. I hope it as I pull my head back, and stare into your face with weary eyes, and a grin on my lips…. Staring at your eyes for just a second, wanting to see that little moment of hesitation and wonder… That things somehow, magically are over….. That we are DONE….. When in truth we are not…. That our animosity and grudge had melted away, just because we’ve unloaded our girl juice on each other like little horny sluts… And as I see that glint in your eyes, one that I hope is born of my deception, I SWING my head down….. Driving my own forehead as had as I can… Into your fucking mouth!!!

Maria:

I never thought of it terms of good or evil. Right or wrong. Ethical or immoral. Brisa didn’t, when she shattered my young heart, and so I didn’t either, when I replicated her cruelty with others. It was what I wanted to do. What I needed to do to find the happiness that unseen rival stole away from me.

And though I never cared about the decency of it, or the mores I might be breaking, as on your couch we fuck. Hard, fast, and with only barely-there hints of the violence we once brandished like daggers, I feel it.

Guilt and shame.

Hitting me like a wet-blanket thrown over my mind. Feelings so foreign to me that when they begin to overwhelm me, I scream in terror — though into our long, passionate kiss.

My hips never stopping their thrusting. My mind never considering the option of stopping what we have begun. What we have become without warning.

It is treachery, of my hatred for you. Betrayal of my jealousy and soul-deep need to hurt you. But I am young and unsure, despite my confidence. Broken and seeking approval, since Brisa left that note.

And so when our eyes locked, there before this mad humping began, I asked you without words. Begged you, without sentence or syllable, for you to guide me and tell me if we should.

If we dared to let our intimate words and lustful subtext become bold, underlined, and italicized.

Yes, you said as you dove into a biting lips. It’s ok, you answered, as our bites softened and tongues met. We can give in, you shouted to me, as our hips aligned in unison and began to press.

And so I did. And so we did. Diving into this feral fuck fight, first on furniture, and then after a crash, down on the blood stained carpeted floor. Fight though I call it, as your need for it surfaces in your writhing body, desire-wet eyes, and kiss-made moans, I weaken. I wilt. And with you atop me, in firm and unquestioned control I cum for you, with curling toes, a quaking body, and lips parted in a soul-deep moan of utter and complete ecstasy.

As I do, I can feel your hungry, victorious pussy convulse and sip slowly at my leaking essence. It taking in its earned share, before you too begin your release. One that shatters you, as it does me — pushing me into a second orgasm, not from touch alone, but the very idea that above me you are cuming. My enemy. A true, vicious, succubus of a rival, I never knew I needed.

A need we let ebb, as we gave into our desires. A need that we betrayed, when we let the softer more sensual sides of our nature hold sway for more than a flash. And though in my black and white mind, such a dalliance feels wrong. As you pull back from our collective mass of bloody and cum-covered flesh, your eyes speak to me again. This time, not in guidance, but in question. They showing a softness that strikes into my heart like a piercing arrow.

Not because I want it, but because I reject it. Not because, suddenly I am set free from our hatred and malice, but because in your eyes I can see those emotions slipping away from you.

No! I rage inside, as the glimmer in your eyes tests me. NEVER! I shout, though I do not yet have the strength to put that refusal into words. And though I cannot speak it, or even fully comprehend how fully I refuse to accept us becoming less than the monsters we promised to be. As I muster my strength, focus my mind, and try to send a hard, vicious slap up and at you. To wipe that look of peace and possible cessation off your beautiful face, you smirk.

Just before my eyes go wide and you slam your forehead down, crashing it into my opening mouth. A blow that drives the back of my head down into the carpeted floor beneath us. All as a maelstrom of pain and gathering blood overtake my world and worries about what, in our moment of sexual satisfaction, you had become.

A trick. A trap. A test. It was. But as I cough, sputter, groan and try weakly to turn beneath you, I cannot even begin to gather as much.

As the blood sliding down the back of my throat is too close to cutting off my air. Just as the ends of teeth broken by your attack threaten to ride that crimson wave and then choke me. Two possibilities of worsening that motivate me to roll onto my stomach, white-chip accompanied blood draining from my mouth. My vision blurred, lips, gums, and teeth throbbing, as below you I try to recover, defenseless.

Distracted.

And only a quarter-focused on the malice you will no doubt unleash.

Ewa:

No shame….. None at all…. I don’t feel it…. Which is a stark, and odd contrast to how it should be…… The roles seem to have been reversed…. At least, in this very little moment…. This alternate universe that we seem to have zipped through, after our orgasms ripped a tear in the space-time continuum leaving me on top, panting with a smirk on my lips, evil thoughts in my head, and you, squirming, your left leg, still raised up and hanging off the edge on the couch with hooked, crossed toes, and an involuntary twitch, still gushing out spurts of your young, aromatic cum……..

I breathe hard, forehead to forehead, staring at you…… Watching the rage in your eyes…. Our lips sore from the slaps, bashing, but mostly the violent kissing….. And in our hearts, we both know it’s not over…. It’s not that simple…. Girls like us, fight until they can’t…. Until they pass out or perish…. And I know I still have more in me… And so do you… It wasn’t long ago when we were on our sides on the couch, locked in a knot with you slowly edging me and getting on top…. This young, sexy, thick, latina seductress has a LOT left… And I’m just dipping my toes in the pool of knowledge, of knowing how to tap you out…. To extract all your violence, strength, energy, and sexuality…… And the glint I see in your eyes, it’s one of rage and defiance…. Your hands softening on my hair, and I sense something coming… So… I lift my head back, almost like I’m giving you access and reign to SMACK my face….. Only to hammer down with my skull, bashing you right in the mouth!!!

The impact is so… Oh so sweet… Is that… Is that why you did it?? To feel that sensation of strawberries smashed against the forehead…. The little burst of crimson juice, as they get trapped against the wall of perfect teeth, along with that delicious CRACCCCKK sound that tells me that you too will be calling a dentist for an emergency repair soon…. Your body thrashes and turns, your palms violently shoving at my shoulders and your thigh shoving at my side, as I grin and pull back, staring at you with an amused glare….

A cut formed on my own forehead from the violent headbutt, and probably being knicked by the edge of your teeth, but I ignore the burn and the sensation of blood seeping down my own forehead, and over the bridge of my nose… And like a myrmecologist watching an ant writhe through a magnifying glass, I turn my head curiously watching you roll under me to your belly, coughing, spasming, spewing the residue of the blow and trying to shake it off….. I push up to all fours, and in a calm, yet hoarse voice I say; “Alexa; open yard…..” —– “I didn’t quite get that….” — “ALEXA… OPEN— YARD…..” I repeat with a growl as I reach and shove my fingers into your hair, and slowly pull you up…. And this time, the annoying bitch registers my words, and the glass door leading to the yard begins to slide open…….

And without delay, or any show of mercy, to give you an opportunity to breathe or take in a breath, I PULL hard on your hair… Yanking.. Jerking… Hissing and grinning… I don’t let you get up to your feet, repeatedly jerking on your hair and watching you still struggle to shake off the dizziness, but as we approach the pool I feel your hands grabbing my wrists.. Your legs strengthen and you begin to get your footing…. The bitch is coming too….. But it matters not… We’re on the edge of the pool, towards the deep end…. And with a little bemused hiss I snarl; “Let’s wash off this blood… CUNT…..” And without a delay, I THRUST my body into you, slamming our naked forms together and I send us flying off the edge, crashing into the warm water with a loud SPLASSHHHH!!

Maria:

We promised each other hell. And threatened each other with a violence like we have ever known. And yet, until that moment, as beneath you blood drips in a metronome-like pitter patter from my mouth, I did not understand what either of us truly meant. I’ve been in catfights with other women. Hands in each others hair, pulling this way and then that, until we throw one another to the floor and roll.

I’ve been stuck between the thighs of a woman I wronged, and in opposite, on all-fours above them, sealing their face between my breasts.

But this, even after our impromptu session of fuck-fighting, is so much more than those encounters. As in its dark, hateful confines, we fight as if our lives depended on it. Wound as if the thought of our survival at the end of this day was never an option.

Each of us firing off every round we can, as soon as we can, only holding back when it will cost us more than we would gain.

It is a truth that I have not the focus or mental acuity to focus on, as suddenly I feel you tugging at my hair, and dragging me up off the carpet. You shouting at Alexa once and then again. Giving her some command that in my state of disrepair and disintegrated focus, I can barely hear, let alone understand.

The consequences of it, only becoming plane as suddenly, the bright light from the sun almost blindly, as the hard floors of your house give way to cold dirt, and wet grass. Surfaces you drag me over, like a child being taken from a supermarket by her mother. Our journey taking us somewhere I cannot see, as my matted, bloody, sweat-bound hair hangs in front of my eyes like a curtain of coffee-colored Twizzlers.

And though I cannot see, as panic takes me, completely unsure of what hell you might have in store, I read for your wrists, and try to pry them free. They, exerting what returning strength I have, as once more you speak. Telling me that we’re going to wash our bodies.

The pool!

FUCCCKK! I would say or shout, if I didn’t then feel your naked body crash into mine, and then together the two of us fly into the air and then in a wet splash, into the pool. Neither of us landing cleanly, or balanced, but instead sinking to the bottom.

A placement of danger that leads us, in a hurricane of kicking legs and flailing arms, to try to pull ourselves back to the surface and find one another.

I am certain you will beat me to breathing, outpace me in clearing your eyes, and attacking. But somehow, I make it before you. And when I do, my adrenaline is flowing at a thousand miles an hour from the cold water of the pool and the shock of all that just occurred. And with that sudden resurgence of energy, I whip my hair back, use my thumbs to clear the water from my mascara and blood stained eyelids, find you just as you pop up out of the water and then grab two tight handfuls of your hairs.

With that grip, and as you couch and sputter, like I did moments before from the sudden onrush of chlorinated pool water, I scream in your face. “YOU FUCKING BBIIIIITTTTCCCCHHHHH!” As the words, and connected blood-mixed saliva splash against your face, I dunk you. Pushing you under the water as far as I possibly can before dragging you back up, looking to do the same again. “I’ll RUIN YOU!!!!!”

Ewa:

I don’t know why I’m doing this… Why I am dragging you DEEPER into my realm… Into my den…. When I could have simply gone the other way, dragged you down the hallway and towards the front door…. I could have made it, opened it, pushed a foot to your ass and THRUST your naked, mauled, clawed up body to the front yard….. Surely, there is the scandal aspect… What would my neighbors say… The cops who would be called to the sight of a naked, abused young woman in the street… But that’s not my concern.. That’s not what stops me…. For I could have equally tossed you in the broom closet and locked the door, leaving you there until your lungs went empty from the screaming and your fists sore from pounding on the thick oak doors….. But no… I don’t want you gone… I just want us cleaned up.. The horrific dry blood that has our faces, tits, bellies, backs and asses covered from the smearing, smacking, rubbing and running… Most of the cuts have congealed, somewhat….. So as our bodies SPLASH in the water and we SINK to the bottom, swirling, the crimson clouds erupt around us as our palms weakly strike flesh and drag, essentially SCRUBBING each other clean before we separate and dart to the surface….

I make it a second after you, and you are there, ready… My hair covering my face, I don’t see you as I open my lips and take in a deep gasp to refill my lungs, only to feel your hands SMACKING on my face, and your scream, splatter of spit flying at me and you DUNK me down, before I can close my lips… I scream as my legs kick wildly, we’re in the deep end of the pool, which isn’t THAT deep, only 8ft…… But it’s enough to submerge and drown as I swat at your sides and hips before being YANKED up again, gasping and coughing, my hair still obstructing my view as I taste the chlorine and salt… Groaning and swishing wildly… You pull me into you and I reach up with my hands and SLAP blindly, but at this proximity, it’s not hard to guess where you are..

I feel the SMACK on wet skin and hair and I grab your hair just by the sides of your neck and SNARL…. “YOU’RE WELCOME TO FUCKING TRYYYY!!!!” And I pull my legs up and SHOVE my toes into your breasts, and THRUST hard, like I’m trying to propel my body away from you, but I don’t let go of your hair, so instead, your body wheels back and me forwards and I PUSH you with my grip on your hair and my stretching legs underwater.. Holding you there for a brief moment feeling you scream and kick, your feet drumming into my ass, until a toe slips up between my thighs and jams into my still sore pussy and I YELP releasing you and I DIVE into the water forwards, twisting and swirling, kicking and surfacing again, this time, getting the chance to push my fingers under my hair and I WHIP it back with a snap of my neck…. Swimming backwards and slowly towards the shallower end of the pool, as I SCREECH…. “COME ON BITCH!!! COME AND FIGHT ME!!”

Maria:

With every new phase of our battle, those before it seem to drift away into some netherrealm of agony and loathing our cruelty alone has willed into existence. And in that same way, as suddenly we struggle in the pool, I feel as if my hate for you has been renewed and exponentiated. The lust we felt for one another only minutes before seeming to wash clean of our bodies in the cloudy, red water that surrounds us.

The amorphous crimson haze moving like a fog through the water as in it, we swirl and strike. Push and grab. You recovering from your split-second slower surfacing and the dunk thereafter, to grab my hair. Using it as handles, for you to turn in the water, kick your feet up to my chest, dig your nails into my tits, and then as I scream underwater you hold me.

In response and desperation I start to try and kick at you. And even though the water slows my strikes, one kick makes it not to your clawed ass cheeks, but between your legs. My big toe, sharp red nail first driving between your cum-leaking pussy lips and driving into your clit. Not hard with impact, but painful in the meeting of nail and centrifuge.

It is enough to make you yelp and release me, just as together we scream at each other over the din of splashes and heavy breaths. You demanding I fight you, as I yell over and atop your raging voice. “FIGHT ME YOU FUCKING CUNT!!” Words I release like arrows from a bow, up and into the air, as I dive back at you. We two women of war meeting at the center of our distance. My legs and arms wrapping around your body, as I crash down atop you while you whip your hair back.

But you cannot hold me up, given your footing and the deepness of the pool. And so into the water we plunge. Sinking deeper and deeper, as I angle, aim, and then bite down on your right shoulder hard. A vicious clamping of jaw and digging of broken teeth you feel and react to, even as we in a writhing mass come to a soft, shifting placement on the bottom of your pool.

Will I hold us there if you don’t escape me? Will I kill us both, just to hurt you? Was I that crazy before you met me? Or have you drive me to be as much with your prideful refusal to give in? You don’t know, and as I bite at you, my limbs restricting tighter and tighter, I don’t either.

Ewa:

I hear your shrieking, loud, savage voice… And it sends chills through me, not only because you mirrored my battle cry of me demanding a fight… Not because it was louder than mine, filled with more of your renewed youthful vigor and RAGE… But because of how CLOSE it is… The long lashes soaked with the pool water and the shroud of hair blocking truly how CLOSE you followed me, and as you DIVE into me our bodies smack and my feet pedal at the bottom, but there is no ground yet, we haven’t made it yet to the shallow end and you practically cannonball your short, round body into mine and we SINK down…

I manage to shut my lips lightly as we plunge, promising myself to outlast this HARPY’s lung capacity with my own, but even before we hit the bottom, your teeth SINK into my shoulder, and I can feel the full tooth, joined by it’s chipped twin, jamming the jagged edges into my flesh and my lips BURST open with a silent scream, that sends a storm of bubbles floating up to the surface…. My arms wrap around you intensely as my shoulder blades hit the bottom of the pool, your body latched to mine like a lead weight…. Your arms wrapped around me and holding me in yet another tight hug, our now scrubbed clean tits SQUISH, and the not so ancient wounds and pains….

But as my body rocks, balanced in the buoyant state it is in, on the shoulder blades, my arms reach down, and I gouge them into your ass…. Your spread legs, have your cheeks parted slightly, and I go in DEEP this time, my fingernails stabbing so close to the ‘root’, an inch or so from your rosebud and labia, as I CLAW tightly and turning my head….

My neck ACHING from the savage bite, but I tilt my head, watching slightly puffs and clouds of red surfacing,, bubbles still leaking from my resealed lips, having lost quite some air in that scream, I know I must strike back….

I must…

Or I will watch every ounce of O2 leak out of my lungs before blacking out under this savage, wild BEAST of a bitch….. I lean in, but I can’t make it to your neck or shoulder, so, I open my mouth, feeling a rush in of water, but I slip my tongue out like a snake, slowly looping around your earlobe, hooking it and slowly pulling it towards my lips, capturing it, then tugging slowly, gently, until it’s within reach of my teeth and I BITE back hard….

Maria:

I would fight you until the very edge of death. Struggle with you until neither of us have a single breath left to give. Hurt you, until I was certain I had you at the lip of the void.

But never past.

Not because of some unspoken, unrealized love. But instead because I need you. I need the woman who has finally given my life of inflicted jealousy and enjoyed pain meaning. Method. And mirrored purpose.

That is my truth, one so real and known that I begin to cry as I bite into your shoulder on the bottom of that blood-red pool — knowing how carefully I must tread, even in the insanity we writhe in. Seared into my soul though that knowledge of your worth is, I do not pull back.

Not before I feel you wrap your nude, war-torn body around mine and then with a quick extension of your tongue, bite into my ear. Your broken teeth and mine piercing each others flesh as in a tight ball of hatred and malice we begin to float. Not just up, but over. Until finally we feel the bottom of the pool rise beneath us.

A sign of drift that in an instant we react to my unwrapping our legs and standing. We, as we explode out of the water, gasping and choking on water, as we continue to bite. Neither of us releasing our locked jaws, but instead continuing to chew on the other’s skin, and swallow the blood that results from such attacks. We, at that moment, looking more like vampires in some competition of draining, rather than women who slept with each other’s boyfriends.

Continue though we do, suddenly, as we breathe heavy through our bites, your back bumps into the side of the pool. Our feet finally able to keep up above the waterline. At the realization of where we are, and where I have you, I lean my lower and middle half back, and then quickly slam them forward and into you. Our wet flesh and breasts coming together with an echoing slap, as I try to crush you beneath me and against stone. Our bites falling loose as we yelp and groan out from the resulting pain.

And though I come once, and then again. Each causing a collision harder, louder, and more painful than the last, on my fourth attempt you surge forward, to your left, and turn us. You then trapping me against the side, as you go to punish me in the same way.

Body to body and breast to breast, as the adrenaline that coursed through our veins only moments before fades from us. Leaving us each almost more exhausted than before.

Ewa:

A creature of hatred….

A manifestation of evil and ruin…

Wrapped in alluring soft flesh, a sweet smile, innocent baby like face and curves that would cause any man’s pants to explode, thinking of thrusting into you, desecrating you and making you his….

But your truth, the truth that I see and am experiencing, is how you have dedicated every gift you have, to be a vile force of destruction.. The end of all things… And perhaps, right now, today, you might be the end of me… It sure feels it, as we writhe underwater, with your certain intent on pulling us down… On enforcing that drowning sensation, that fear of never catching the next breath….. The thrust of your body against mine, fearlessly and furiously….. We swirl under water, feet floating up, kicking and shoving at shins as we kick and twist, until you pin me to the wall and THRUST… I GRUNT and GASP, my head barely breaking the surface, but you slam into me again, and again, and again… My body sagging, coughing, gasping, spitting up water as I lay there unfocused…..

Hearing you growling, and feeling the new wound on my shoulder seep blood before with a ROAR of rage I YANK your hair and spin us, slamming you into the wall, thrusting my tits, my hips, my abs into yours, time and again, and again… Your grunts fill the air, girl’ish cries of exhaustion and fatigue…. The underwater battle taking more toll on us that I assumed when I threw us into the pool….. And as I slam into you the sixth time, sending a massive SPLASH of water exploding between our bodies, I lay there, leaning into you… Panting… Chin on shoulders, gasping, sobbing…..

Our knees weak, but the buoyancy of the water is helping us stay upright, along with my elbows on the outer edge of the pool…. But with a determined snap I pull back from you but instead of splashing back into you, I release my right hand off your hair and I PUSH it on your shoulder, while yanking on your hair, turning you around suddenly, making you face the outer edge of the pool and I SLAP my body into your back… I GROAN in pain as my aching tits flatten against your back, but I am not going to relent..

I won’t quit, I reach with my arms over your shoulders and I loop my fingers into the small gutter trench rounding the pool, holding on to it, and with everything I got in me I PULLLL hard, using my body to… CRUSH… yours against the tiled wall….. Flattening your breasts, that are half spilling over the edge…. Causing the old stone to jam into your flesh as I SCREECH in pain and strain…. Trying to squeeze you like an empty tube of toothpaste…. To crush your organs and strain your ribs….. My legs looping around yours, locking ankles as I SNARL in a feverish, low pitched growl….. “I…. HATE…. YOU…..”

Maria:

When into the pool we crashed, I felt a surge of energy and hate, so powerful, I swear I could have fought you forever and a day without slowing. Without relenting for even a second.

And yet in the wild, swirling, hysteria of our battle, we spent it. Those refilled reserves. Smothering it out in one dunk after another, beneath the waterline and into the exhaustion that had bitten at us. Gnawed at us. And made us eash feel as if we were on the precipice of collapse inside your house.

A pain and fatigue that suddenly makes our limbs heavy, bodies ache, and mind fog, as against the side of the pool we wrestle and slam. Your perfect, mind-breaking breasts crashing into my soft, perky, nubile tits again and again. Until even that seems beyond you. Beyond us.

Leaving us to lean into each other, and lay our heads down softly on each others shoulders. Our dried and the wetted, dried and then wetted lips letting off small, delicate whimpers and ragged, raspy breaths as we try to find the strength to move on from this moment.

And though I don’t, cand though I can’t, you do. Finding somewhere in your hatred the strength to grab me, turn me, and slam me hard against the side of the pool. My breasts spilling over, and nipples grinding into the gravel-feel surface as you, with all your might slam into me.

Not then to release, but to instead to keep me there, with your body crushing me and driving the air out of my lungs. All as you tell me of your hate, in a predatory, dominant growl.

As you speak it and I hear it, I groan out helplessly. Weakly. Feeling your legs coil around mine, as you move to trap me. But as you do, and your hips pull back to allow it, I sneak my left hand back, down, and between your legs. Keeping it hidden and unfelt, until you fully seal your body together with mine and once more come forward. Driving your center into what you assumed to be my soft Latina ass.

But instead of such a plush landing, you feel my index and middle finger skewer your pussy. I can’t see you at that moment, but your eyes no doubt widen and your lips no doubt open, preparing for a scream. But I do not scratch you. Do not claw you. But instead, with every ounce of focus I have, begin to pleasure you.

Knowing misery would make you pull back and that attack would make you withdraw. Neither of which would be enough, for before I could turn and recover you could return, and slam into me once more.

So instead of pain, I choose pleasure instead of pain. And insertion instead of pincer. Wanting you to stay. To remain. To weaken as I use our shared passions and mutual, though taboo desires to gain a moment of rest, second to breathe, and time to find a way to turn the tables once again.

Ewa:

There is a limit…. One that I seldom subscribed, nor surrendered to.. That saying; that the mind is willing, but the flesh is weak… I found it as cheesy and redundant as ever, every time it was mentioned by an athlete, or in a movie, or read it in a book about someone succumbing to failure, and just resigning to it…… But I can feel it.. I can feel it with every second of struggle against you….. I felt it back in the living room, and after the second wind granted to us by the cool water splashing us and re-igniting our nerve ends…..

It’s coming again… The second collapse…. The crash that will wash us out completely….

But I steel my nerves and body… And as I fling you around…. I almost pause to ponder the ease it happened with…. But I scratch it off to how beat and exhausted you must be….. Missing out completely your hanging left arm, and as I slam you into the edge of the pool, I THRUST into you with a zeal and Omph! that it takes me a long moment to register what just happened……

My lips part, and I wince… Gasping…. My body tensing, feeling your hardened fingers PUSHING between my labia, or rather, my labia crashing into them, splitting open, and your digits sinking inside of me….. I feel like a fish on a hook line… Trapped…. Helpless, as your fingers curl, and I predict the bite of your sharp nails, tearing at my insides, giving me no recourse, as your other arm loops around and your palm presses on the small on my back….

But no…. There is no claw, no bite, no slash…. Only the tips of your fingers rubbing, massagiang, thrusting inside me… And I SHUDDER< my body spasming, my arms flexing and PULLING hard…… “Uunngghhh.. little… biiitchhh…” I moan suddenly as my head tilts more, and my lips press into your wet shoulder…. My eyes are wide feeling you working me… FUCKING GET YOURSELF TOGETHER EWA!!! MOVE AWAY!!! ABORT!! ABORT!!! — But I don’t…

Instead, I just hold on ot the edge, gritting on my teeth, and I PULL harder… I hear you wince, as your tits are SMUSHED against the edge… Your areolas jammed into the hard end, the upper bits of your tits turning purple, while the lower captured bits turning white…… I hiss and THRUST my hip into your hand…. Groaning……. “…. all… you… got???” Taunting you almost, feeling your fingers stroking me harder, and faster…. You’re choosing to pleasure me… And I’m choosing to constrict you…. Panting as I PULL more and more…. Like I’m pulling against the headboard of a bed on my way to a devastating orgasm… I channel that immeasurable strength pumped by my smaller body as it approaches the climax to steady the path…. To crush and flatten my young foe, as my lips part and wrap around your lips, not in a bite, but in a suckling kiss as I squeeeeaaal, my hips thrusting, gyrating, GRINDING into your ass and hand, before I.. EXPLOODDEEE and my body tightens, my muscles flexing in a brief, seconds-long moment of surging power, crushing you even harder to the wall before my muscles unlock and my body relax, turning to putty….. Unaware of how much damage I might have caused…

Maria:

For a moment, as my fingers slide between the precious little lips of your pussy, I feel it again. The guilt. The shame of letting this battle become anything more than an expression of the hate we have for each other. The jealousy that pours from our every pore. And the oath-bound and blistering hell we promised each other.

Am I less of a woman, less of a catfighter for using pleasure instead of pain?

Am I cheating? Even in a war with no rules?

Am I betraying some want, some NEED that makes all of the pain and struggle seem like pretense instead of an addiction so deep I can feel it gnawing at my very soul.

Worries that flash brightly and then disappear as the consequence of my decision comes. Not, as I expected, with you falling loose as I finger you. But instead with you pressing against me. Your gorgeous tits of a size most uncommon shoving me sternum-first into the stone wall of the pool. Just as your hips, fire forward and into my fingers, wanting more. Hungry for more. Not shying away, but demanding that I fuck you with my digits as you do the same with your entire body.

But for me there is no pleasure. No moans or cries of ecstasy. As instead I feel my ribs creaking, lungs compressing, and every forward-facing inch of skin burning as I try to endure. Knowing, betting, HOPING you will, before you cum, fall back and away from me. Releasing me from this hell of being stuck between a rock and a cunt-face.

When you do, I already have it in my mind, how I will break you. Finish you. By spinning around, and continuing my fingering as you slowly weaken. Your body and resisting fading as I lean in and kiss you hungrily as I slowly bend you back and towards the water. Knowing our nostrils are too clogged with chlorine to breathe through, and that in our kiss I will keep you from the air.

From oxygen. And then, just as you cum, and are defenseless I will lower your body and face beneath the water and drown you. Not until you are dead, but until you are beyond any metric of suffering you could return from.

A series of imagined events that would leave you to be helpless as I punish you…

But you don’t let go. Not in the slightest. Instead keeping me there pinned and breathless. Aching and in agony. Until finally, you cum on my fingers and fall back and into the water.

That happening just as my mind and soul beg me to chase you. To follow you, and finish this. But instead I sputter, couch, and collapse against the lip of the pool. Almost unconscious from the pain you inflicted on me, during what was to be my masterstroke.

My pièce de résistance.

Neither of us able to capitalize or bring consequence to the ravaging we had done. As instead we simply recover. You in the water, treading and shaking. And me on hanging on the edge of the pool, barely able to move.

Until finally, when I find it. The will. The focus. The strength to go again, I pull myself up, drag myself onto, and then crawl slowly back to your house. Moving from my stomach, to all-fours, then to my knees, and then to a wobbly stand, just as I make it to the door of your home.

An entrance I do not move through, until I have turned to you and shouted. “IN YOUR BEDROOM, BITCH!!! THAT’S WHERE WE FINISH THIS!! ON THE SAME BED I FUCKED RYAN!!!” My vision is dimming and filled with technicolor sparkles, and yet I can see you moving towards the steps of the pool.

My hearing is clogged with a water tinted red, and yet I can hear you splashing as you move closer and closer, and your voice somewhere in the din.

And so knowing you are coming, having cum, I turn and make my way to where it all started. To the bedroom where I drove a dagger into your heart. Not with a desire to mend, but to worsen. To finish you, punish you, and then make you promise me, in tears, that this hell will be ours again when our bodies and psyches have recovered.

Ewa:

No….. No no no NO… This can’t be happening… But also… FUCKING YES….. Betray me, hips….. Abandon me, will….. Mock me, pride…. Endure this humiliating moment, as I keep thrusting my body over and over into the spears of my enemy… Spears of velvet that keep thrusting inside of me, while I slut myself out to you and my horniness…. Causing a guilty pleasure of the kind I’ve never experienced before…… I clutch to the edge of the pool, not to crush you, but to keep this going…

To keep me angled and poised…. My feet slowly slipping from around your ankles and pressing into the slippery tiles, to brace and angle my hips better into you…. Over and over I go, moaning and suckling at your shoulders…. My eyes shut so hard, they are about to pop like balloons of ecstasy along with every nerve end on my body…… Then comes the release…. And I shudder… I moan and MELT into you, like a stick of butter on a sizzling hot skillet….. Hanging like a ragdoll off a meat hook, with no will of my own, as you turn and I can feel your breasts gliding across mine, your hard nipples poking me in the flesh, and your arms wrap around me, embrace me for a moment…..

Will it happen??? Will you hug me like a priest baptizing a sinner, but instead of lifting me up, you’d leave me down, there and drowning??? — I don’t know, and to be quite exact, at this very moment, I don’t have the will to even fight it… Let it be….. Let this be over, at least with this bliss flooding me…. But instead, your hands shove me, and I fall back into the water, my ass diving down, and my head barely remaining above as I crash in the shallows, watching you turn and splash out of the pool, climbing up the beach end…..

While I turn, and glide on my ass until I have wall behind me… I watch you, crawling, stumbling, falling and coughing…. The hug must have caused pain and damage I didn’t foresee…… until you stop by the door and scream at me…. And my entire body shudders…. I can see you, cleaned, washed up….. No more bloody smudges, although the cuts and wounds look rather… clean and mostly dry….. Marks that only accentuate your looks and make you infinitely sexier, like a beast woman warrior; a valkyrie banging the doors of Valhalla, and demanding an audience with the queen in the arena of silk sheets and plush mattresses……

And without delay, without pause, I growl and grab the edge of the pool and pull myself up…. Work, legs!! And they do…. I lift up, with more ease than I thought….. The orgasmic knotting of muscles have passed, and while I am still staggering, stumbling, falling to all fours, I am still moving… Glaring at you, as you stare back at me by the door to the guest bedroom that takes right out to the pool… But no… That won’t do…

A queen mattress won’t do… We need the King one; upstairs… The one you fucked Ryan on…. And instead of stumbling towards you, I head towards the open sliding door that we exited through, and I push my body through it…. Leaving wet footsteps on the hardwood, sliding and crashing to one knee from the slippery traction, cussing as I can hear you stumbling behind me… And in an almost dark comical chase, I lead us to the stairs and up, through the loft and turning into the master bedroom…..

The door open, and we stumble into the spacious room I thrust my body on the bed, and like the peak of mount Everest, I claw the sheets, tossing a knee over the edge, crawling atop of it with great effort…… Panting as I push up to all fours then my knees, turning, glaring at you as you stumble through the door…. “HERE I AM BITCH… WHERE IT ALL FUCKING STARTED WITH RYAN…. WHERE I FUCKED JEREMY…. AND WHERE I FUCKING FINISH IT!!!” I roar back….

Maria

There hasn’t been in a moment in these last few hours that seem like days where we have been apart for this long. Where our bodies have not been pressed together, at first clothed and then nude, once bloody and then wet with the water of your pool. And in truth, without your flesh against mine, without your hot breath splashing against my cheek and lips, and without the scent of your blood and womanhood, I feel empty. Naked, in a deeper way than to mean without clothes. And alone, though I see you and follow your clawed but now cleaned ass up the stairs to your master bedroom.

A room you stumble and almost fall into, before you crawl into the bed. My legs slowing me down as I give chase, staggering through the door, just as you fight your way from all-fours to your knees and shout at me. Mirroring my words to you, and challenging me to meet you in the center of your lair. The lair in which we both drove daggers into each other’s souls and shattered each other’s hearts.

There you wait, not at the foot of the bed, but it’s rear, nearest the headboard. Giving me room to crawl atop the end of the comforter, and then make it to my knees a few feet from you. Our chests heaving as we take that moment without combat to breathe.

In half I expect you to lunge at me. To put us right back in the eye of the storm as soon as I near you. But you don’t. You wait. And when you do, I inch forward on my knees. Moving closer and closer to you, just as you move to do the same.

And though we then near, closing all distance between us, we still refrain. Keeping our claws at bay and to ourselves, even when our naked and ravaged tits meet between us and compress together, mine more than yours.

Again, I anticipate your attack, just as you anticipate me to do the same. But no attack comes, when we lean into each other and seal our battered, bitten, and bruised foreheads together in a flat press. The tips of our stuffed noses glancing and bending as we glare deep into each other’s eyes. The glowers, glares, and sneers on our faces so deep and truly held that they might kill any other woman.

And yet there we are, enduring the other’s hate in silence, until slowly we lift our arms, move our hands, and slide our fingers through each other’s soaking hair. Our fingers then seizing, not hard or violently, but with methodical and calculated patience. A message of calmness sent, just as my lips open to speak. “I. . .Hate. . .You. . . Ewa. . .”

The words spoken as my lips drag across yours, a wave of lust, loathing, and renewed vigor swelling in us both.

Ewa:

I wait… Even though it’s only few seconds, the hammer of eternity is bearing down on my soul, crushing it, watching you stumble, your curvy flesh bouncing with every step…. Your thick, latina body, now washed clean from the bloody smears and sploches, looking absolutely… glorious…

A fighting bitch… A girl almost half my age, and yet, one who have taken me further than I even thought my body could do… The look of rage, of lust, of fury and of desire filling your eyes, as you crawl up the bed, and get up on your knees… Our legs spread, our pussies glistening, and we both know it’s not just pool water…. Two orgasms each, have us in that shameless zone, almost both flashing our kitties at one another….

And with a slide of a knee you inch closer, and I follow suit…. Coming closer… And closer….. Until our kneecaps touch, and we finish the draw, our thighs pressing, our hips touching, and our bellies fitting together, our breasts compress, and we can both feel the sting of the wounds, dulled now, but still alerting us that they can reopen at a moment’s notice… But the sensation that tickles me the most, is not the feel of your clit on mine, or your nipples bending my flesh… It’s the… SCARS and WELTS… On YOUR body…

I can feel the little rifts my nails and teeth caused… And knowing I caused them… That they are so tangible and physical make me growl, as my fingers slowly slip into your hair, snarling; “Why…… wouldn’t…. you…. I….. am…. better….” I hiss and TUG on your hair down sharply, your head snapping back and your nipples DRAG up across my breasts an inch… But immediately you answer with a TUG and we both end up facing the ceiling, SQUEALING and HISSING, using our arms to bend one another….

Balanced on our knees, our hips grinding more, as our tits separate slightly, it seems we are both intent on dragging the other to her back… Matching wills and strength… Hissing…. I snarl and grit my teeth, trying to cut off my screams as I roar…. “B—iii—TTTCHHH!!!” Then in a risky maneuver, I shove my left knee up and out, sliding it from under me and replacing it with my left foot…. Panting as I open myself up, but not just for sure….. Balanced on my left foot, I get better leverage and thrust as I PUSSSHHH hard with my hip and YANK down with my right hand, trying to slowly twist your body, and turn you down to the bed, even if I can’t fold you back cleanly, I will fucking toss you down to my sheets, that are getting drenched by the dripping pool water……

Maria:

I hate you more than any evil or threat I have ever known. Loath you more than any person I have ever met. And yet, somewhere in the back of my mind, I wonder if you are what I will become when I have had no less birthdays. Are we the same, other than age. Equals apart from easing hands on the face of a clock.
Even the thought makes me want to hurt you. The idea making me want to scar you, even more than I already have. Not because you less than I wish to be, but because I know it all to be true. Your fire and flare, fetish and fierceness mirrors of my own, but etched into stone by the life you have lived.

No truth could be more clear, as we glare into each other’s eyes. No revelation could cut deeper, than seeing how equally ready you are to drag me down to some lower, hotter level of hell than we have already suffered in.

And so I tell you. I mutter it. How much enmity I have for you. An emotion so clear, crystalline, and palpable that I can barely put it into words, though I could chant it forever and a day.

But somehow I utter it, and when I do you spit back your nonsense of being better, of being bolder. Words I would have returned, with pursed lips and fired spit, had you not suddenly taken our unmoving standoff of held hair and glares from cold to hot.

You wrenching back and down at my hair. So hard, I feel several strands snap at various points in their length. My head bending back so hard, I can feel cervical discs displacing and then when I return the favor, pop back into place.

Each of us yanking and tugging at each others hair with all the violence we can muster or even fathom. Our nose to nose staredown evaporating, as the tips of our chins present and then press, as our tits peel apart, and upper bodies lean back.

I will beat you.

I will best you, in this battle of wills, just one amongst legion since this battle began.

At least I hope. At least I intend to. But then you raise your left leg up, and plant your foot into the mattress. Gaining leverage and angle, demanding without words that I do the same. But I refuse. To copy you. To mirror you. Or in anyway admit to myself that my fears of our parity are real.

Instead I remain. On my knees, trying to make up for your increased pressure with effort and fury. Groaning, growling, and then screaming in an unintelligible mumble of syllables and vowels as I try to resist your push, and then force my way past it. But second by second, I can feel myself leaning back, leaning over, as you press your advantage, and the weight of your intensely beautiful tits come back into play. Their undersides pressing against the tops of my tits, just before in a quick and decisive slam, you throw me down to the bed, and then crash down atop me.

Not in some awkward straddle or misaimed slam, but perfectly. And exactly how you would want to, if you drew it up on a board in a catfighting class. At the press I burst into action. My hands moving from your hair, looking for your wrists, hoping to catch them, and keep you from moving from struggle to offense, but even with all of my focus devoted to the task. I miss them. I lose them in the moment of panic. And before I can move to some new strategy, find my predicament worsen so intensely I scream out in agony.

Ewa:

We lock on the bed… We wrestle on it….. Not as furiously fast as we did when this began… Not with a knee to a sternum and fingers ripping bits of scalp out.. No… By a FULL body grind, that is making me wonder, if the next time I look at the mirror, I’d end up seeing an imprint of your flesh on my curves, my ribs and breasts permanently pressed to a mold of your curvy, soft, thick body….. We pull slowly but savagely on hair, follicles popping and agonizing groans filling the air…

The sensation of our pussies mashing and pressing into thighs and hips, now the news of the past… Now something that doesn’t even seem to bother or cause us shame… It’s natural… It’s normal… As two queen bees battling, with their strings brushing over the site of a new hive….. With the fittest destined to survive and establish her dynasty….. On the sheets that witnesses the site of the double-betrayal…. Where atrocity and revenge were committed…. And while I have the leverage, you put up the fight, you keep pulling, steadying, and making me PAY for every inch I gain on you… You’re locked in this stubborn, savage, intense duel with me, losing it, but never relenting..

Until, we tip, and gravity takes care of the rest, your left shoulder hitting the mattress, and you YELP as my body slaps down on you, flattening you down, my left leg outside yours, and I immediately push my right outwards… Hissing, PUSHING down on you, belly to belly, breasts smothering yours…. And I see your head, arched so perfectly over the edge of the bed…… And as if by a miracle, you release my hair and reach for my wrists….

And without hesitation, I ROAR and SHOVE my arms down, pushing my knuckles off the edge of the bed and DOWN, still clenched to your hair, violently jerking your head down, and arching it so it’s almost upside down, staring at the dresser with tis’ full sized mirror… Evading your fingers just in time as they can’t reach back that far as I PUSH down on your hair, hissing, my pussy slapping down on yours, then my hips roll back, cocking, then THUMPING down…. “…Biiitttcchhhh…. Get…. FUCKED…”

I snarl as I glance up and catch our reflection… The view that you are FORCED to stare at, upside down….. The sight of our mashed, pancaked breasts from above…. The sight of my ass lifting up in the air, glistening with pool water and sweat, then disappearing with every thrust… The sight of your gape-mouthed face, screaming, and your hands grabbing for my arms and shoulders.. And the side of my wicked, curled up grin, on my bruised and clawed face…. “LOOK AT US BITCH… LOOK AT WHERE WE BELONG…. ME ON TOP… BEATING YOUR FUCKING WORTHLESS PUSSY!!!” –SMACKKKKK!!! I hammer my cunt down on yours again.. and again.. and AGAIN…

Maria:

It would be your claws, latched into my cheeks.

Your fingers lacing with mine as you pin me to the bed, not for a moment, but for the rest of time. You keeping me beneath you, atop the bed where this horror was spawned until Ryan comes home to find you and once more apologize, or until Jeremy comes for seconds, his loins starving in my absence.

Or perhaps even a punch to the face, that will render me so close to unconscious that I am not only defeated, but yours to do with as you please. Not just tonight. Not just this week. But until someday escape from the chains you have left me in, bound to your basement wall.

But in all those expectations and expected attacks, and in my attempts to avoid them, I hand it to you. Such impossible leverage that in an instant I know….

Such placement and power that as soon as my head bends back, and eyes look to the mirror across from us, I see it.

My destruction.

Not threatened or possible, but happening and real. As you, a cruel, hateful, goddess of a woman, keep me pinned beneath you. My smaller tits not only engulfed, but hidden in their entirety under yours, as with a sinister glare and sneer your image comes in reflection. Your hips raising, and then slamming down, causing our aligned, soaked, and swollen pussies to come together in an audible, wet clap at their center and most sensitive point.

A collision of cunts that causes me to moan out in pleasure, before the sound trails off into a desperate whimper.

“BIIIITTCCCHHH!! YOU BIITTTCCCHHH!!!” I scream out, so angry that no matter how hard I try to bridge or push with my lower body, I am stuck. My neck bent so perfectly as a fulcrum that I cannot exert any force, without causing myself pain I cannot handle or endure.

A reality I only barely understand as once more and then again, you drive your sex into mine. My eyes not closed, but open wide and watching as you fuck me and scream for me to watch us.

I shouldn’t. I should shut them or look away. But I can’t. I won’t. I hate you, but in some sick way, I owe it to you. To us. To watch as you fuck me into complete and utter devestation. The orgasm I feel building within me unlike any other I have ever experienced, in this fight, the others I have had, or with any man or woman in bed.

But I am not done. Not broken and defenseless, even though my every effort to escape has failed. My bridges collapsing before they begin, by shifts, squirms, and thrusts, only driving my sex harder into yours and hastening my own defeat. And so, left with no choice other, I move my searching hands, not to your shoulders or hips to ride out this last, galloping fuck to the finish. But both of them, palms facing out, and backs pressed, to the center of your forehead. Using the mirror in which I watch my own fate play out to aim and focus.

Then, with them placed, I dig my broken, chipped, and razor-sharp nails into your already mauled skin, and then begin to drag with all of the strength I have left. My nails plowing four crimson valleys in your face, on either side, as they travel out from the middle of your face, down your temples, and then down your cheeks.

I know it won’t cause you to release me. Know it won’t end the slow, cruel, thrusting of your kitten into mine. Yours, coming again and again like a lion, as mine begins to quiver and seize like a lamb. But it will mark you. It will brand you. And tell you everytime that you look in the mirror until the marks fade, that you need me. That you hate me. And that we are not done here.

Not finished with each other.

Even though, as finally, my nails finish their misery inducing journey across and down your face, my body seizes, constricts, and them trembles in a mighty orgasm that makes me howl and scream like a wolf at the Blue Corn Moon. Every ounce of strength, pride, power, and energy I once had spilling from my defeated pussy and splashing against your victorious cunt as tears flood down my cheeks.

I was Maria. I was your enemy. I was your demoness come to call. But at that moment, I am nothing. Weak. Worthless. And at your mercy.

A mercy I expect none of us, as finally my eyes close. And your ascension atop and over me begins.

Ewa:

I feel like I’m riding one of those mechanical bulls, that I found in some of the dive bars during my first trip to America… I was your age, maybe younger…. I was wild, and the thrill of getting atop of it, holding tight, and showing everyone how strong my legs and balance was, enjoying the greedy eyes staring at my chest bounce inside my top; as they salivate over the foreign drunk girl was quite the thrill…. But what I considered loose and raunchy back then, is nothing compared to you… To what YOU are doing to get your fill… A fill that is consuming me now, as I FIGHT hard to remain on top… It’s not that you’re beaten… it’s not that you’re without energy… It’s not that you’re OUT of it…

But you’re flailing and fighting with everything you got, but lacking the leverage… Your hips thrust and your legs try to get a purchase into the mattress, but are constantly obstructed by my own feet slipping and pushing at the ankles that get some leverage…. I keep wrenching your neck and you CRY, SCREAM, and WAIL, as one THRUST at a time, I proceed to break you… To humiliate you.. Your claws latch to my face, and you start to RAAAKKEE down… I SCREAAAAM in horror, as I watch the reflection in the mirror… The EIGHT red trails that your nails carve down my face, from temple down to my cheeks and in FURY I scream; “BIIIITTTCHHH!!!!!”

And I DIP down with my head, and I bury my teeth, one chipped, into your right cheek…. I won’t be the only one MARKED tonight…. I’ll brand you too…. An as my fangs burrow into your face, cutting through the skin and tasting your blood, I FUCK you wildly, feeling you shudder and GUSH hard… Cumming…… Violently….

But I don’t stop… I keep the bite… I keep pulling on your hair, growling and twisting my head, trying to widen the cut, to give you a scar that will remind you of me for the rest of your life…. As we writhe and our bodies begin to slide slowly off the bed…. I don’t notice it at first, but then, we TIP and slide down to the floor, crashing in a heap…… My legs spread, landing atop you in a straddle, my fingers holding your hair down, grinding your skull into the floor, my teeth chewing at your cheek, your ass still lifted, pressed to the side of the bed, with my pussy suddenly getting a brand new angle, one that I use to SLAM down, driving my clit into the underside of yours in wild, savage punches, one that takes you from the first orgasm right into another….. Groaning and BEATING it down…….

Then finally, I release your face, holding your head down… I glare at it with a mouthful of saliva and blood, I SPIT right into your eyes, growling….. “SAY IT……” I snarl the words, but you don’t… You say nothing.. Defiant even in defeat….

“Fine….” I hiss, and push my body up just enough to twist, and much like you started the fight with, I drop my knee right on your sternum, PRESSING on your chest, but I don’t pull your hair, instead, I turn my body, kneeling on your chest, and I dip my head down, between your legs…. Still draped up hanging off the bed, and I burrow my teeth into your cunt, BITING your labia.. Sinking my teeth into the plush, soft puffy flesh…. Violating and assaulting your sacred sanctuary, and getting a taste of the young, slut juice seeping out of it….

Maria:

If there could be such a thing as a perfect moment, in such a destructive war, it would be what has just occurred. Each of us having used our bodies, our cunts, and our sexual prowess to strike at and wound each other. And to then find our battle, end not with strikes, slams, or strangles, but instead those two bodies and womanhoods slamming together again and again until one of us cum. Until one of us gives in so completely and intimately, that there can be no argument as to who the better woman was on this day.

Though it would hurt me, no, kill me to admit such in words. But to my luck, I have no words or mental acuity to create them, as I slide off the bed to the floor. The comforter giving way in our final moments of mashing malevolence, and then bunching beneath us, so that on my shoulders I lay, as the rest of my body remains raised at an angle.

One you then use to continue fucking me, from one orgasm to another. Your experienced, dominant pussy obliterating mine, as beneath you I mumble, quiver, and cum. My eyes blinking open, only to shut again. As my mind spins, and vision blurs. All of the pain. All of the exhaustion. All of the aches I had fought off with adrenaline and hatred finally coming home to roost, all as your newfound victory causes another wind to swell within you, leaving us at two opposite ends of the same spectrum. Leaving me a shadow of my former self, and you a glowing, inspired, mighty maetron of writhing, sex, and bloodshed.

The dichotomy such that as you demand me to say it. To admit it. To give you in words, what my sex gave you in dribbles, I cannot even hear you, yet alone comply. My brain to0 shattered and scattered to put words in order, or somewhere in the madness find their meaning.

But that state of utter decimation I suddenly find myself woken from as without warning I feel a knee jammed into my chest, and then teeth bite down on my poor, already ravaged pussy. It is agony. It is anguish. It is worse than all other attacks we have inflicted so far combined. And yet, in the pain, my focus returns, fogged thoughts clear, and then lips open in a terrible, animalistic howl of misery.

One that I follow up with a panicked, terrified metronome of sentence prefix “I…. I…. I….”.

I know what you want. What you need to hear from me. But even in the pain I feel and the fatigue that feels like I am being crushed by a giant bolder, I refuse. “DOOOOON’T MAKE MEEEEE SAAAAAY IIIIT!! AAAIIIIGGGGHHHHHEEEEEE”

I cannot fight back. Cannot defend. But in a complete breakdown of the pride that once seemed impervious, I beg you before a scream. Even as your broken teeth tear into my softest and most delicate of flesh.

Ewa:

So… This is what it feels like…. To BECOME you… To become the predator… The Eater of Worlds…. To CONSUME another woman… Shatter her universe and break her to her knees…. I see it now… I see… EVERYTHING…. Why you do this… Why you did it… And why it’s so, so much worth it…. Worth the pain, the cancelled wedding, the scars, the agony, and the marks that I will have to live with…. But most importantly…

Why it’s worth making an ENEMY like you….. Why it’s SO fucking easy right now, to shift my knee, and press it to your throat…. It won’t take long.. A second or two… Shifting my weight to the right… The CRACK of a broken trachea…. The hassle of having to dig a hole in my backyard… And pray that you didn’t leave a note to anyone of your whereabouts, or where you’ve left your home to today…. To pray no one can track your Uber driver or the cab that dropped you off… Or that no one would go digging into your phone text history to see our exchanges…

Too many ifs and prayers, but none of them are the reason I’m keeping my knee on your chest…. It’s because… I don’t want you gone… I want you to remain… To LIVE this shame, this humiliation… And to come back… But first… I need you to SAY IT… I BITE at your cunt… Chewing at your labia, growling as I stretch the tender lips, handling them with more cruelty than I thought myself capable of….. But I don’t draw blood…. A scar down there, will… change you… And I don’t want to cross that line either… I maul, abuse, and hurt… But I keep it to the pain, without the wounding… Hearing you scream and sob… Plead and beg me to not make you say it….

Hearing the words, I turn my head to you, with a bemused look on my face, genuine surprise….. I blink twice, as blood seeps off my freshly scratched cheeks…. “Don’t… make you… say it??? —

Oh Maria…. How dare you think I wouldn’t…. What was this all about then??” — I say the words with genuine surprise and eerie calm…. Bemused, like I’m about to sip on my tea while chatting with a dear friend about which sports team we’re cheering for, or which girl at the salon to get to do our hair and nails…..

And I TWIST my knee into your chest even more, grinding down on those ribs, while my left hand reaches and slips inside your pussy…… Four orgasms in… Clawed and bitten… And now… I thrust not one, not two, but THREE fingers inside of you, and with no ounce of tenderness, I start to PUMP your cunt….. Not trying to watch my nails.. Letting them scratch your wall slightly and recklessly upon every exit, while my knuckle THUMPS into your labia hard with every entry… My right hand, reaching down to your head, grabbing your hair by the bangs, and I PULL your head towards me, a one handed pull, but it tucks your chin against your chest bone, as I hiss with a bemused look…. “Say…. IT….”

Maria:

I hate you. . . More than words could convey. More than my tired, broken, endorphine-numbed mind can even fathom. It was what drove me to such wild, reckless, brutality when our fight first began and kept me going even when it would seem like sheer insanity to do so to any other.

And I know you feel the same about me. Having heard you say it. Having seen it in your eyes.

Share, though we do, that complete and utter animus for one another, and we have slowed. Settled. And now find ourselves laying on the floor. No more frantic action and manic mayhem, as instead I lay on my back sobbing, as you lay between my legs chewing, though not tearing at my pussy.

Your intentionally lessened pressure of teeth and jaw only offered to allow you to continue hurting me without making me go numb, or causing me to bleed out beneath you. A mercy meant only to enhance and elongate my suffering.

Bitch! I would shout at you. Cunt! I would scream.

But with your knee pressing into my chest and canines and molars digging into my labia, all I can focus on is surviving. My every breath heavy, as tears flow from my eyes like rain. And yet still, in that hell I beg you not to make me say it. To admit your victory and dominance over me.

A plea that finally makes you withdraw from between my thighs and mock me. But it is cessation. It is release, at least enough to try to gird myself against whatever might come next. But that next comes too soon, as before I know it, and without you making more than even a minor adjustment of body and limbs, you drive your fingers into my wounded pussy.

Not one, or two, but three! At the jamming, and scratching that follows I scream out in pain, but you keep going. Inserting a fourth finger as you ram my poor pussy. Every such coming splitting my lips and spreading my pink, more than any lover has before. Both Ryan and Jeremy being average at best, though we always told them they were big.

It is an attack I try to weather and withstand, even as you lean back, and with your free hand grab my hair, pulling my head up and into you, just as I did when our fight began. And though I can barely think or hear over all of that you dish out at that moment, suddenly I hear you threaten. “I’ll do it! I SWEAR TO GOD, MARIA, I’LL DO IT!”

I might not know what you meant, if I didn’t feel your driving and damaging four fingers pullout of me, and then against my devastated kitten lips ball into a fist. A fist meant for punching, but not into ribs or face, but my weary, stretched, and defenseless sex.

And so I scream it! Words I never thought I’d hear myself say. “Ok, OK! YOU WIN! YOU’RE THE BETTER WOMAN!! THE BETTER CATFIGHTER!!!! THE BETTER PREDATOR!!!!! JUST PLEASE DON’T!!!!” As the words leave my lips, and my heart breaks once more. I feel everything that still drove me leave my body. My complete and utter destruction and humiliation rendering me almost lifeless, as I collapse back to the floor. Your hairpulling hand releasing, as the admissions you needed echo through the house you own.

Ewa:

“I’ll do it! I SWEAR TO GOD, MARIA, I’LL DO IT!!!” I roar out the words, amidst fingerblasting your cunt with my fingers.. It’s not the way to handle a lover… It’s the way to HATEFUCK an enemy…. And you are taking it… You’re trying to weather the storm…. But your cover’s been blown off…. You’re out in the open, naked to the cruel elements… Vulnerable and defensless against Hurricane Ewa….. And you know that you have to..

As I pull my fingers out, amidst a GUSH of cum bursting out of you, balling my hand in a fist, and you barely croak out the words.. I know you’re TRYING to scream them out…. But they come out weak, fizzled, barely fathomable as your hands slump down to the side, and I quietly watch you slump in utter collapse…. No more fight left in you… You’ve crowned me the Alpha… THE QUEEN BEE….. My stinger was stronger than yours…. You’re downed…. Out for the count, gasping for your life, for the pain to stop…. And I stare at you with an even more bemused look…. Almost sympathetic…. My right hand, releasing your hair, it reaches down with a soft caress….. Across your temple, and down your non-bitten cheek….. Almost like I’m soothing you….. Pushing your hair off your face in a gentle stroke…. “Again, Maria…. Do you really think I won’t??” — I say the words in a calm, chilly voice, then, I SLAM my balled up left fist right into your pussy with a savage hard punch!!!!

I see your eyes going wide, your mouth parting and shuddering as your eyes cross and then slowly roll back into the back of your head… My knuckle, GRINDING against your pussy, the splatter of cum after the impact staining my side as I slowly TWISSTTTT my knucle, right and left, grinding down on your pussy and smirking….. My knee grinding on your sternum too as you begin to shudder, then slowly, you pass out…… Panting… I stare at you, and only then, when I know you’re truly out, do I get up….. I rise off you, then I collapse to the base of the bed….. Sobbing, my ass on the floor, my legs bent, my knees pointed up, my head falling down on my forehead….. I just breathe and cry…. For nearly five minutes, I do nothing but sob….. The aches filling my body, the twitch haven’t left my sex yet……

But I turn my head and look at you… You’re slightly bleeding, but nothing life threatening or won’t close up soon…. No need for first aid, because quite frankly, most of those scars much like the ones you caused on my body will leave marks…. For along time to come….. I push up and reach for your wrists, I grab them and begin to drag you out of the bedroom, but then I stop…. I turn my head to the other direction, then an evil grin comes to my face… I turn and drag you in a U-turn back inside, towards the master bathroom, over the tiles and to the big shower….. I push the glass door open and step inside… A big grin on my face…… And with you slumped on the floor, I turn the faucet on… And reach for the shampoo bottle…

Maria:

Barely conscious, though still breathing and alive. I feel you grab my wrists and drag me off your comforter, away from the foot of your bed, and then over and across hard and cold tile floor. It would make me stir, make me suddenly resist, if I weren’t so far gone.

So weak.

My only outward sign of consciousness being my mumbling lips, which again and again sputter out the word, “revenge”. Breathlessly. At times inaudibly. But still, I speak it. Chant it. Like a mantra. Like a prayer.

One I give as you pull me into the shower I once bathed in after fucking Ryan. The floor of which I sit on, and wall of which I lean pathetically against, before you grab the same shampoo I used to strike at you, when first our lives became entangled, and then meet me there. You moving to a seated position, pulling me into your arms, atop your lap, and then into a cradle, before you squirt that vanilla scented shampoo into your palms and then slowly, gently, begin to wash my hair.

Odd it would seem to any other but we. Quizzical and confusing any who watched us might find it. But as I lay, near lifeless in your lap, your heavy breasts pressing down on me, your left on my chest, and damaged right gently placed at the nipple between my lips. No longer afraid that I will bite you. No longer concerned that I will suddenly spring to life and latch on like the hellcat I once was. You luxuriate in your dominance.

Running your shampoo-covered hands through my pool-wet black hair, as the warm water cascades down around and over us. My repeated and broken metronome mutter of the word “revenge” making it appear as if I am suckling at your tit and the nipple I once bit at with so much fury. All as you slowly, softly, clean what hair I have left on my head.

You healing and recovering, as you enjoy what you have done to me. What you have taken from me. And all that you have gained in slaying the dragon that challenged you, as I lay like a child — like a daughter in your lap.

It is a moment of softness, unlike any we had shared since first I entered your home. A moment of peace, unknown to us, until this moment.

But eventually, just like all else that had held us that day, the moment ends.

And when it does, you, with a single push, shove my heavy, strengthless body out of your lap. Onto the shower floor, and then after grabbing my wrists once more, drag me down the hallway. Down your many steps, my head thumping lightly against the carpeted steps, with every such blow causing tiny groans escaping your lips…. Towards your front door for a moment, before you pause. Think. And then decide that you can’t leave you out there… So, instead you turn and drag me out to the back yard….

The wet dirt and grassy surface of which leave me on….. Panting, as you go back inside and after a couple of minutes reemerge with a blanket, and a sheet of paper….

You toss the blanket over my battered body, and then crouch as you tape the paper to the torn flesh of my forehead….. On it, in writing big and bold; you have written the word “BETA”. A branding you leave me with before turning around and walking back into your house, your confident and scream-savaged voice coming out in a short, but definitive; “Alexa…. Close Backyard.”

The End

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