Who Are You? by Rival’s Rapture

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Olivia had taken the walk so many times before. Down from her high-rise office to the lobby, across a busy Manhattan street, and then up. 

But tonight’s trip was different.

First, in that it was unexpected. Jacob, the striding and leggy onyx-haired beauty’s other having only an hour before made it clear that he would be unavailable. His mind set on a night out on the town with his visiting friend David from Los Angeles. 

A decision, disappointing though it may have been, that was conveyed with such certainty that she who accepted it brought not her umbrella or overcoat. Her only walk of the night, without Jacob, likely being one from her office, to the elevator, to the underground parking lot of her building. 

Second, there was the turning of hot to cold and summer to fall. A change in the seasons that cast Olivia’s walk in a heavy blanket of rain, which fell upon honking taxis, pitch-black asphalt, and scurrying pedestrians with their bravely enduring umbrellas. 

Endure though those handheld covers did, Olivia, as she walked amongst them in as fast a jog as her black heels would allow, could barely stand it. Not the rain or the press of humanity, but the excitement welling within her. 

As she was going to get to see Jacob once more, before the weekend hit and he was pulled back into the arms of his wife Natalie. A wife Olivia had never met or even seen, and yet, the two of them were set at odds. 

Not because of conflicting personalities or long-simmering resentments, but instead because they both laid claim to the same man.

A man, despite his flaws and indecision, that Olivia loved. Deeply. Truly. And in every way she had always read about in story books as a little girl. And though she held such a flame, she hated the name their love had been branded with.

Affair. The word hanging around the beautiful young Asian’s neck like a scarlet letter. 

A burden made worse by Olivia’s own knowledge that what she was doing was wrong. Sleeping with another woman’s husband. “Wrecking” an innocent wife’s home — though from all appearances, that wife knew nothing of that wrecking.

And yet still, Olivia could not abandon her role as Jacob’s mistress. Not because she cared too little, but because she cared too much. 

Wanted too much. 

Not the sex which was incredible, but the man. To marry and start a life with. To have children and then to grow old alongside.

In one of Olivia’s many moments of weakness, she had asked Jacob to leave Natalie. To forsake his vows and be her’s alone. But as much as Jacob loved Olivia and wanted to keep her by his side, he refused. Not in a blink, as if the idea was foreign and disgusting, but after weeks of torturous self-doubt and self-loathing. The dark-haired, olive-skinned New Yorker feeling just as much guilt as his mistress about their late-night rendezvous and well-hidden communiques.

Communiques which spoke of Jacob’s love for Olivia. He making crystal clear that he wanted her for more than sex. More than the lurid and taboo-driven excitement that often comes from an affair. 

And though Jacob often spoke of a life with just they two, he never denied his love for Natalie or how happy she too made him. His demeanor turning quiet and sorrowful whenever his loyal mistress would mention her name in passing or protest.

In fact, it seemed to Olivia that Jacob was a man whose future he saw splitting in twain. One life spent with his wife, and then the other with Olivia. Two women. Two homes. Two families. Two lives, kept somehow and someway. 

It was selfish. It was cruel. It was impossible, and yet Olivia accepted it. Not the unsaid suggestion of as much, but that Jacob wanted both she and Natalie.

Yes, it hurt. When he’d take his wife’s calls when she was in the room, and end the same with a reminder of how much he loved her. Pained her, when his late night texting would suddenly end, only to resume after Jacob and Natalie had satisfied each others suddenly pressing carnal desires. 

It was a hell for Olivia. But a hell she was willing to endure to keep him. Always hoping, in the back of her mind, that someday — he’d be hers and hers alone. 

That mad hope coursed through Olivia’s veins as she hurried into and then through the lobby of Bowman Tower. Her wet, red blouse clinging to her 36C breasts as she moved at speed. The beautiful 5’6’’ American Japanese woman knowing that in such a state of soaking, she was showing off more than she ought to. Her knee-deep gray skirt being the only garment that didn’t feel glued to her skin as she entered the elevator and chose her floor. Drips and drops of freshly donned rain falling from her form-fitting fabric as she waited impatiently.

In her haste and anticipation, the ascending elevator felt like it took forever, and yet after only a few moments, did it bing. The wood-panel, silver steel lift’s doors opening when she had finally reached the 42nd floor. 

A floor that during the morning and afternoon hours of the day housed a handful of marketing executives, all of which answered to Jacob. But at this hour of the night, nearly 9:00 PM, they had all gone home. Leaving the man Olivia sought to visit’s private office secluded in the extreme, and luckily right next to the elevator door. 

A seclusion that let them play. Let them love. Let them enjoy one another, without fear of intrusion or discovery. A freedom Olivia ran towards, as she reached for the door to Jacob’s office, and with a mile-wide smile, pulled it open. Expecting to find him working hard at his desk, until the last possible moment. Until by his tie, she’d pull him into her arms. 

“Mmm, I don’t know what happened with David and your night out on the town, but I don’t care!” Olivia said with an excited glee, as the door remained open wide behind her.

“Jacob…?” She then called out, as her delight subsided. The brunette finding no lover behind his desk, nor even the light on in his private bathroom. 

“Baby…?” Olivia called again, as she continued to step forward. Knowing that she had received an email from his work account, not but an hour before. One that told her to come to his office, so they could see each other, just as they always did. 

Come though Olivia did, in Jacob’s sted, she found only mystery. A mystery that pulled the leggy businesswoman deeper into the office. Her eyes drawn to her lover’s monitor, which was still on and glowing in the city-lit darkness of the seemingly unoccupied office. 

“Are you Olivia…?” Came a half-timid voice from behind.

“Hhhhh, wha… Who are you?” Asked Olivia, as she turned, exhaled and then stuttered before she found the focus to finish.

“You-you’re Olivia? From my husband’s emails and texts…?” From the shadows, the owner of the less than threatening voice advanced with a slow and dimly-lit clacking of heels. She who emerged being a brunette, one who stood the same height and build as the wide-eyed Asian mistress. 

“Natalie…?” Her voice shaking and pulse racing, the onyx asked, though she already knew the answer. 

“Yes….” The answer was resigned and sounded of a long-worn humiliation. A humiliation that could be heard, though not seen — as its wearer looked beautiful in her own pair of black heels. Footwear that came with a shorter, hip-hugging black skirt, and a silk, portrait-neck top that framed a pair of well-held C-cup tits. A pair that not only rivaled but mirrored Olivia’s own.

“Oh….” In an instant, Olivia felt a thick blanket of shame wrap around her entire body. A shame that made her eyes move from the woman moving from the shadows to the floor. She, for the first time, coming face to face with Jacob’s wife. A wife she thought to be unaware of the affair her husband was in, and the second life he sought to build for himself. 

“We need to talk.” It was a declaration, though it sounded like anything but. A demand, even though the words hovered in weakness as they left Natalie’s mouth. 

“I…. We….” Olivia tried to speak — to respond with something, but even as her efforts failed, Natalie came to a stop. 

“Look….” Began Natalie, though a syllable later she found the same speechlessness that gripped Olivia take her. And though it affected them both, Natalie broke free first, and continued. 

“I’ve seen the things you and my husband have written to each other. And I know….” Once more, the aggrieved wife paused, the words she was about to speak sticking in her throat, just as they hurt her very soul. “I know you think you love him….”

Olivia wanted to hide. To bury her head in the sand or run away. But as she heard Natalie use the word “think”, she found her body stiffen and her shame-taken mind focus. 

“But I’m his wife….” No doubt, Natalie meant to go on, but before she could, Olivia spoke over her. 

“I DO love him!” The lighter-skinned mistress said with as much certainty as passion. 

“No, you just….” Again Natalie began to speak, and once more, Olivia interrupted her. 

“Natalie….” Hearing her husband’s mistress say her name, made Natalie’s skin crawl. And yet before she could focus on enduring that slight, Olivia continued. 

“You have to know…. You have to understand…. This…. This thing between Jacob and I…. It isn’t just about sex. And I am not some lust-drunk intern. I love Jacob. More than anything in the world. He is my soulmate. My….”  With the initial shock of meeting a rival she had never seen before having passed, Olivia found her voice and began to speak her long unshared truth. But just as she had done to Natalie, Natalie then did to her. 

“You can’t love him!” The upset Caucasion wife blurted out as she stepped forward. “Don’t you get it? He’s married! He’s my husband…. He already found his soulmate….” Just as Olivia’s timidness began to ebb, so too did Natalie’s. She finding her passions flare with every word the treacherous woman before her spoke. 

“I know that’s the way it’s supposed to be!” Olivia answered, her voice clear and eyes glistening with sincerity. “But … but, it just isn’t this time. You’re his wife, and I want to respect that. I wish I could just close my eyes and forget him, but I can’t!” The levee having broken for each of them, Olivia, like Natalie made their pitch and told their tale. One they had each practiced a thousand times in the mirror. 

Surely the other would understand. 

Surely their rival would hear how true their own claim to Jacob was, and abandon those that kept him on their arm.

“Don’t!” Natalie shouted, as suddenly she began again. “Don’t tell me about closing your eyes. Don’t tell me about forgetting! Do you know how many nights I’ve gone to sleep in tears? Thinking about you and him sleeping together? Huh…?” Every word out of the impassioned wife’s mouth spoke of pain and agony — suffering and sacrifice. A story of wounding she told as she stepped forward once more, she finding herself compelled to get closer to Olivia, as if such proximity might help her understand. 

“You don’t think I do the same?!” In a flash of temper Olivia asked as she too stepped forward. Leaving both wife and mistress not only eye to eye, but verging on a meeting of push-up-bra-held breasts. 

“It. Makes. Me. Sick. Thinking of you being with him.” As she revealed her own suffering, Olivia’s eyes scanned the face of her lover’s spouse. Looking for acceptance. Looking for understanding. But rather than such empathy, she found a growing scowl. 

“He’s. My. Husband.” Blunt. Forceful. And lacking even a hint of the patience or timidity each had spoken with before, Natalie made her claim clear. 

“Then why does he want me…? Huh…? If your marriage meant ANYTHING, why would he bring me here, night after night…? Why would he text me, while he’s in bed with you…?” Every word Olivia spoke was cruel and biting, and even as she spoke them, she felt guilt. A guilt that was washed from her mind a second later. 

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you’re a slut who was willing to use your body to entice him when he was at work. When he was busy and distracted — stressed and overwhelmed. If he really wanted you or your soul, he would have left me. LIKE YOU ASKED HIM TO! But instead he comes home and sleeps in my bed. While you lay in yours alone, wishing you were me.” With every second that passed, the two women leaned in closer and closer. Their once soft eyes hardening into katana-sharp glares that neither could control. 

“You’re right…..” Came a shocking revelation from Olivia, whose tone in a flash went from angry and confrontational to soft and accepting. “I do wish I was you. And that I was his wife. But if I was the one who swore to love him for the rest of my life, in front of God and the world, I’d fight for him…. Something you haven’t done, even though you knew about our affair. If anything makes it clear that I’m the one who really loves him, it’s that. I’d risk absolutely everything to have him. You’ve risked nothing to keep him.” At first, Natalie took Olivia’s ebbing tone as a sign that she was backing down. But as the Asian mistress’ diatribe continued, it was all made clear. 

No words would solve their quarrel. No logic or reason would move them past their impasse. 

They remained locked at odds in the center of Jacob’s dimly lit office. Each of the two having taken the final step forward in the maelstrom of their argument, and met one another top-covered-breast-to-top-covered breast, drawn together by instinct more than intention.

Their eyes fused in a glare neither could control. Their hands resting on their own hips, though at any moment they were prepared to move and grab, should the kindling between them turn to flame. 

“I’ll fight for him….” Natalie suddenly made known. 

“So will I….” Olivia replied, as for what felt like half an ever after, they remained in silence.  No words spoken. No steps taken back. That is until finally, the long moment of tension and tantrum, Natalie offered terms. 

“If I win, you’re done with him and your filthy little affair is over. You never see or speak to Jacob again.” Came Natalie’s demands, one after another, like the Senate’s daggers, as they came to pierce Caesar’s heart.

“And if I win, he’s mine and you leave. We keep the house and his salary. No alimony. A quick divorce. And don’t pretend like you can’t afford to be on your own — Jacob’s told me everything….” Olivia issued as her own, while making sure to drive home how much she already knew about the life of the woman at whom she glared. 

For a moment, after the terms were stated, each again remained silent. Their affixed glares communicating a non-stop series of threats, accusations, and rebuttals that required only their own primal instincts to deduce.  The two women studying each other intensely until suddenly both gave their answer at the same time. 

“Deal.” The simultaneously spoken word echoed in the room as it did in their souls. The lines had been drawn and the die cast. They had agreed to terms that would settle all of it, and put an end to Jacob’s dream of a life split in two. 

Agree though mistress and wife had, in their mirrored response, neither lover moved or pulled back.  Meaning breast-to-breast they remained, their eyes still clinging to their shared gaze — which had changed from a fury-forged glare into an emotion-wet questioning. 

Each wondering and worrying about the word they had just spoken and the consequences it would have. 

They both wanted Jacob. 

They both loved him. 

But in agreeing to fight for him, they had each accepted the chance of losing him. And the repercussion of living a life without him by their side. 

It was only then, in the silence of Jacob’s office. With no other sound than the raindrops hitting his street-side windows, that the weight of that decision hit them. A collision of realization and barely held-off regret that filled both with a cruel and palpable fear. 

A fear they could see clearly in one another’s eyes.

A fear that drove their eyes to water and their bottom lips to quake. 

The moment of weakness — of natural human frailty, they shared for only a a handful of seconds, before outside the confines of the Bowman Building a bolt of lightning flashed.

As that strike from Zeus cracked through the sky, Natalie and Olivia both took the chance to break their soul-betraying locking of eyes. 

The pair thereafter stepping back and away from each other. Neither having the strength to continue the moment they had found themselves in. Empathy being the last emotion they wanted to feel, for the woman they were preparing to engage.   

A preparing which Olivia suddenly began, as she without word or warning, reached up and began untucking her red blouse from her long gray skirt.

“Wait… . What are you doing?” Natalie asked confused. She feeling as if Olivia was taking control of their struggle, before it had even begun. 

“I’m not gonna … do whatever it is we’re about to do in soaking wet clothes and a skirt that goes past my knees…. So, these are coming off.” As she explained, Olivia continued her undressing. Pulling that same blouse she had only a moment before tugged on, up and over her head. 

To the reply, Natlie did not respond. Deciding instead to keep Olivia from gaining an advantage by pushing past her in terms of disrobing, or the confidence such would show. A strategic decision that led Natalie to undress also, first by pulling off her cleavage-exposing windowed top, and then her shorter, but still physically limiting black skirt. Garments, that like Olivia, she tossed to a distant wall of the large office, away from the battleground on which their fates would soon be decided.

It was then that the two women kicked off their heels and stood. Olivia in black lace panties and a matching bra, with Natalie’s being similar, though red and a little less revealing,

In that lessened attire, the adverse pair began a new taking of stock. Not of the emotional toll and threat of their soon-to-be tangle, but instead of one another’s body. 

Bodies which had each enticed Jacob. Each laid with Jacob. And as the other cried in a bed across town, fucked Jacob into satisfied oblivion. 

One might picture the two rivals laying into one another with comments of derision about the others looks and the imperfections of their body. But instead each saw it.

What Jacob saw. 

The sexiness of the other’s body, and how closely it matched their own. The sight of it pulling each to step closer, as their eyes ran from the other’s beautiful face down to their perfectly manicured toes.

An examination that went on as the two women continued to step and study, their minds daring to compare. Wife and mistress, without words and in a darkened office, finding the man who they fought over had chosen for them a rival whose body matched their own. 

Breasts of the same size and shape, stomachs of the same tone, and legs drawn with the same lust-generating perfection. 

And though that similarity might have gone unnoticed, had they met walking down the street, or a point of bonding, had they been co-workers. At that moment, each playing the role of villainess in the other’s life, it was a wedge. A thorn, drive directly into their sides. 

The other’s similarity making their own body — their own worth, to the world and most especially Jacob, less. 

Had he chosen me, because I remind him of her? Olivia asked herself, without sound or sentence. 

Am I just his type? Just the shape Jacob prefers? Is that why he chose me? Why he married me? Natalie suffered in the equally speechless thought.

Mired in a sudden and confidence-shattering self-doubt, the two women — each equally wounded by the revelation, almost broke. Almost wilted, before either had laid a hand on the other. 

That is until another bolt of lightning struck open the sky outside. Its soundless flash, if only because they were both on the verge of crying and retreat, gave them the will. 

The will, in no less a flash, to take one last step forward before reaching up and lacing their fingers through each other’s hair. Not in wild, vicious pulls, but in a half-gentle hold. Each knowing nothing else about fighting another woman, than what they had seen on TV and in movies. 

“Just let me keep him.” Natalie begged, as her fingers tightened in her rival’s hair. 

“Just give him to me…. ” Olivia released her own desperate plea, as she too further affixed her hold.

It was only then, when the sound of the bolt that brought them to that moment came. A rumble of heavy thunder that, like the bolt that spawned it, sent each of the two once more into motion. 

Their handfuls of hair tightening and then pulling, as their bra-and-panties-covered bodies crashed together.

They did not want it. Did not crave it. A battle or the other’s misery. But when each had made clear, with their forlorn prayer of the other’s withdrawal, they knew. They understood. 

Their counter-claims could only be overcome through pain. Through force and subjugation. And though those methods of persuasion were entirely foreign to them, they would learn. They would strive. They would endure. 

And so at the thunder that came, they began. Pulling one another’s beautiful, well-conditioned, lavender-scented hair as their painfully similar bodies sealed together.

“Bitch!” Olivia cried out in pain more than hatred. 

“Owe! Ouch!” Came Natalie’s announcement of pain. Neither used to or liking the feeling of having another woman pull with intent on their hair. 

Felt it though they did, at the pain of the snapping of roots and tugging of locks, neither relented. Instead they increased, hoping, perhaps foolishly, that they could end their battle after only a few seconds of hair pulling. 

But at the harshening, each rebelled. The two women, on instinct alone, stepping in their jealous embrace left and then right — right and then left. Forward and back. Their toned calves stepping in and out, brushing and bracing, hooking and releasing. Until after a matter minutes that felt unending, they together collapsed to their knees. Each keeping to their holds and their pulling, even as they whimpered. 

“Stupid cunt!” Natalie cursed, in words she would have used in no other situation. 

“Jealous whore!” Olivia replied, in terms equally as foreign.

“Owwwweee…. Owe….” They cried out together, at the mutual torture. And yet they would not let go. Not when they were standing, nor after they found themselves on their knees. 

A hell they languished in, not for one moment or two, two moments or three. For each, with all their will and desire for Jacob, fought to endure the pain the other caused them. The competing pair suffering together as they leaned their heads in and past one another. Until in a stalemate and the tightest of knits they found themselves anchored, fighting desperately to make the other give. 

Not after a long drawn-out fight, but instead at the conclusion of a merciless contest of wills.  One that seemed to go on and on without end. The lips of the other pressed to their ear, so that not a single sound of weakness or despair was given without them knowing.

Fear though they did, that they would be stuck there for eternity — pulling with all their might on each others hair, suddenly the focused contest ended. 

As Olivia’s hands, after a panicked retraction, moved from the hair they had torn at, to the wrists of the woman who did the same. She finding herself unable to take another second of their contest, though she was still unwilling to give in.

Unbroken though she remained, as Olivia sought to secure Natalie’s wrists, she lost her balance and collapsed back to the cool, stone-tile floor of the office. A falling that Natalie sought to capitalize on by following her rival down and then trying to straddle her. 

But as wife advanced, the mistress beneath her kicked out her legs and then wrapped them around the former’s abdomen. 

At her enemy’s unexpected acquisition of hold and control, Natalie pulled her hands from Olivia’s hair, and moved them to the thighs of the same. Thighs on which she pushed hard, knowing she did not want to be caught between her rival’s legs. 

Expect, though the Caucasion wife did, for those efforts to prove useless, the legs of Jacob’s Asian mistress were too loose. And so after only a single shove, and solitary shift, Natalie was able to escape. Not fully, but enough for Olivia’s leg scissor to slide down to thighs and not abdomen — a hold of far less use.

Both because it allowed for a less painful application, of pressure, but also because it let Natalie move. And move she did, though not forward and upon, but forward and away. The inexperienced wife looking not to lock up with her rival on the hard floor, but to get back to her feet.  

An attempted escape and recovery that played out as Olivia cursed at herself for not securing her legs more tightly. Curses she muttered as in chase she scrambled. Moving after and then diving atop Natalie, just as the same sought to make it back to her feet.

Contrary directions and reactions that collided as she who dove landed on top of the back of the wife she had challenged. A landing that flattened Natalie to the floor, just before Olivia reached out and around, hoping to catch the former in a chokehold. The mistress for the first time in her life feeling completely out of control. 

Completely wild.

She and Natalie moving at such a pace and in such a madenned struggle, that her heart’s pounding was all she could hear. Even as she secured her right arm around her enemy’s throat and began to constrict. 

At that moment she was an animal. A vicious, feral animal that would stop at nothing to keep Jacob. 

Even if it meant choking out his wife on the floor of his office. A wife she had not known until only moments before. 

And just as that feeling of savagery became clear in her mind, and as the mounted, and back-borne Asian began to pull her wrapped forearm tight, Natalie made her own barbarism known. 

She, even without the ability to see, firing up elbows and punches. Each weakened by her odd-angle and poor-positioning, and yet still they came. 

And when they did, Olivia fought to avoid them, or if she couldn’t brave them. But as she began to focus on strikes, Natalie used her legs to drive her body up onto all fours. One there, with her black-haired enemy on her back, she rolled, hoping to throw her rival off. 

But as they moved up and then over, Olivia held tight, and in the process kept her choke. She moving to her back and then pulling Natalie’s body into her own.

“Give me Jacob!” In a growl, the mistress demanded, as her legs wrapped hard around the torso of the wife with whom she struggled. . 

To the words, Natalie wanted to respond, as she felt her rival wrap around her, but instead she remained quiet. Her hands moving to the forearm that beneath her chin squeezed, so that she might try to pull it away. 

“Do you hear me, bitch?!” Came Olivia’s voice again. 

“I love him….” And again, though softer and affected with emotion. 

Hate though Natalie did, every word that her enemy spoke, still did she refrain from responding, certain that any sound that escaped her lips would come out as nothing but a sputter. The choke she laid in already having begun to take its heavy toll.

The held and harried wife’s lungs already burning, as atop Olivia she writhed. Her legs kicking out, and trying to catch purchase with her fleshy heels. Her hands still attached to that which choked her and pulling, as moment after moment of asphyxiation passed. 

“He’s mine….” The words themselves were weapons and the meaning of them an assault. And though they were effective in hurting Natalie, they also pushed her to abandon her pulling. 

Give up her attempt at escape. 

As instead, she reached up, back, and then sought to dig her nails into Olivia’s face. At the sudden coming, the Asian’s eyes went wide, legs came loose, and after her forearm followed suit, she rolled out and away from beneath her rival.

“Cu-” Natalie began before hacking, as in a scramble she chased after Olivia. 

“Cun-” She tried again, before once more a cough tore through her insult. 

“Cunt!” She finally got out, as she met Jacob’s mistress once more. The two prideful women slamming together, at the very moment the latter made it back to her knees. 

A slam which sent them back down to the hard office floor, Natalie on top in a sit-up straddle and Olivia on her back. The hands of each shooting out and grabbing for each other’s still-bra-covered breasts.  

“I’ll never let you touch him again!” Natalie swore, as her fingers tightened around the C-cup breasts of her rival. 

“You won’t have a say in it, bitch!” Olivia screamed back, as she too squeezed. “You’ve never had a say in it!” She then added, as their bras — the last line of defense against their mutual, nail-digging attack, loosened and displaced. 

“Fuck you!” Already angry, but driven deeper by her enemy’s comments, Natalie lifted a hand up from breast and then with it slapped Olivia hard across the face. 

Then, even as the sound of the slap and the sting of it echoed, she who felt it fired back. One of her own hands freeing so that she could splash it hard against Natalie’s cheek. An intent made manifest as in a flurry of swung arms, straightened fingers, and landing palms, they struck at one another without mercy.

Over and over. 

Again and again. 

Until their reddened and stinging cheeks ached so badly that each without concession or comment, returned to their breast grabbing. Not, as before, with the other’s bra in the way. But by sneaking their hands under those covers and then after pushing them up, grabbing the entirety of their rival’s flesh. 

“Owwee!” Natalie cried out as Olivia’s sharp nails dug in. 

“No, no, no, FUCK!” Came the same wail, as the wife’s fingertip daggers dug in just the same.

Words of pain and weakness shared as the two women, opposed for no reason other than love, wrenched at each others tits. Neither, at that moment, worrying about defense or escape. Not because they had some glorious plan or unseen tactic, but because they were blinded to all else in the world save for hurting each other. 

Every night spent alone and sobbing into their pillows being the other’s fault. 



And worst of all, neither was sorry for the pain they had caused or emotional wounds they had inflicted. 

And so without that regret, or the other being willing to listen and repent, they each, both wife and mistress, had but one chance of escaping the anguish they lived with. 

And it was that one, solitary chance that they lost themselves in. 

The battle taking place with the New York skyline surrounding them. Its soft glow lighting their beautiful breasts as nails dug deep and drug. A driving  of keratin-tipped talons that seemed to last forever, but finally ended when Olivia could take no more.

A fact made clear not only by her screams of pain, but also by her hands moving from tits up. Her nails, which had earned and stolen a thin coat of crimson moving to her mounted rival’s cheeks. 

An attack that Natalie saw only too late, and reacted to in the only way she could. Not with a counter or a mirror, but by falling back awkwardly from her straddle. Her upper back and shoulders hitting and remaining pressed to the cold floor of the office only a blink before the mistress amongst them slammed shut her legs. Her thighs collapsing, catching, and then crushing her white rival’s midsection, causing her to let out a shrill howl of pain. 

“Let me GOOOO!!” Natalie screamed as she writhed left and then right, her hands moving to her rival’s legs to try and push or pry them free.. Her every desire and thought aimed at getting free, though she found herself completely unable to do so. 

“GIVE him to me!” Words that Natalie could barely hear over her own groans and cries, much less understand, and yet even in her state of utter dismay, Olivia sought to inflict more. 

She reaching down and grabbing the black panties of the woman turned upside down between her legs, and then pulling them up and off. Olivia letting them fall free before she then fired her free left hand once more into the breach. This time, reaching not for fabric, but the pussy that had claimed Jacob’s cock in a consummation she had always wished was her’s.

The flesh of it was soft, defenseless, and sensitive enough to send Natalie, still filled with vim and vigor to howl out in abject horror as she felt her poor kitten’s lips clawed at savagely. 

But such savagery lasted only a second or two, before on instinct and sheer panic, Natalie began to kick — almost as if she was riding a bicycle. Not with aim but wildly, aimlessly, and with every ounce of strength she had. Yes, the first such strike missed. And the second, and then the third. But one in the chain quickly hit home, 

The heel of her left foot slamming into the center of Olivia’s forehead. A collision of such force that knocked the momentarily dominant mistress back, down, and to the floor as her legs loosened. 

“YOU BITCH!” Natalie screamed as she scrambled back to her feet. 

“YOU WANT TO PLAY LIKE THAT?!” She shouted, as she marched over to Olivia, who still laid on her back, her head spinning and focus ravaged. 

“FINE!” As if some new challenge had been issued, and with that word accepted, Natalie reached down on still wobbly legs, grabbed, and then began to yank at Olivia’s panties. A series of tugs and contortions that made her own already shifted, loosened, and dangling bra drop over her stomach, hips, thighs, and then to the floor. A loss of fabric that left her nude. 

Nude and angry.

Nude and enraged to the very depths of her core. 

A core that churned with fire, and drove her to thrust her right foot hard into Olivia’s ribs. The half-there mistress groaning as she turned onto her side, and then again after a second echoing kick rolled her onto her back. 

A back onto which Natalie dropped in a straddle, after a quick, high-legged step over her enemy’s lumbar valley. 

“You want to play dirty, bitch?!” Jacob’s wife asked, as with speed she worked to unclasp the last remaining garment between them — Olivia’s misplaced bra. A bra that once undone was not pulled out and away, but up and centered. Its metal-cored fabric suddenly and without warning pulling taut and then pinching, as behind the neck of its owner the undergarment twisted and tightened. 

On that undergarment turned weapon, Natalie pulled — not with half of her strength, but all of it. The sum of the moment and the reality of the consequence at hand finally dawning on both she, and the girl she choked. 

A blurry, smiling image of Jacob appearing in the minds of both love-drunk women. One, as she pulled so harshly that strained, stretching, and strangling fabric began to burn her gripping palms and tightened fingers. And the other as she, in sheer panic, pain, and suffering from asphyxiation, began to claw at the coiling curtilage wrapped around her neck. 

“B…i…t…c….hhh….” Olivia croaked slow and low. 

“Fuck you — you HOMEWRECKER!! JUST SAY IT!!!” Natalie didn’t say what she wanted said, but both knew. The words, at every moment, emblazoned in their minds, hearts, and souls. Either because they dared refuse to say them, or because they wanted most desperately to hear them said. 

Contrary desires that became more and more acute and acidic as atop one tugged as if on the reins of a horse, and beneath the other suffered. Desperately searching for air. For relief. For freedom from such a hell. And though that search began with wild frantic action, as moments passed, Olivia’s calves, which once kicked, and body that once rolled one way hard and the other even harder, slowed and stilled. 

Until finally, drawn by the dimming and delay, Natalie let her body down, pressing her naked upper half against Olivia’s back. The wife’s struggle-sharpened nipples digging in, as she tightened her grasp, never ceasing her hateful pull. 

“You’ll never be the one he grows old with. Or the one his children call mommy, bitch….” Natalie hissed as she leaned in deeper, her every word stabbing into Olivia’s slowing heart. 

A heart that twisted and tore at the very thought of giving in or giving out, and yet it was coming. A darkness. A dimming of light and thought that she could not avoid or resist with her will alone. She had to strike! She had to fight! But with Natalie laying on her, Olivia could not grab or kick — slap or scratch. 

But as she laid in those hopeless depths, opportunity came, when once more Natalie leaned down to whisper and demand. She bringing her face just near enough for Olivia to turn her head and bite. 

As hard as she could. As vicious and as tenaciously as a dog defending its master. Her teeth sinking in deep and then past, just as Natalie screamed out in agony and shock. Sounds she released as she did the same by rolling off of her rival — her enemy and away. 

It was a pause. A break. But Olivia knew it wouldn’t last, because she wouldn’t and couldn’t allow it to. Her hacks and coughs — gasps and blood-colored drool doing nothing to stop her from pushing herself up off the hard floor. The Asian beauty’s exhausted body moving from a slow crawl to a wobbly kneel, then from there to an attempt to stand. But before that attempt came to fruition, Olivia abandoned it and lunged. The onyx-haired paramour traveling through the air, even as her vision remained speckled in black and her entire person ached with fatigue from a lingering lack of oxygen. 

Then, as Jacob’s mistress flew, his wife turned back on her knees five feet away — her right hand pressed hard to her cheek and her eyes wet with tears. 

“I’ll ruin you!” Natalie shouted, just as the woman she threatened landed atop her.  

The bare bodies of the two crashing together and sending Natalie down to her back as the limbs of each wrapped and hands of the same grabbed. This time, not in any discernible hold or with either having an advantage, but instead with each fighting to keep the other from gaining the same. Legs intertwining and then locking closed. Fingers lacing through and then seizing tight on each others hair. Not so that they could then remain, but instead so that they could roll. Fighting to overcome, outmaneuver, and then when they found themselves on top, mount each other. 

There in that closeness they snarled and spit. 

Cursed and dared. 

Threatened and promised. 

And between each bit. At lips, tongue, cheek, and nose. Wife and mistress becoming more cat than woman. Predator than prey. Animal than human. 

As all else in their worlds disappeared into the ether and fog of life. Their up and down — around and over turnabouts causing their lower halves to flex and shift. A mirrored and rhythmic compression of hips and cores that caused the two women at war to feel, even in the depths of malice, pleasure enough to make them moan. 

Not once or quietly, but again and again between mouths biting faces, hands yanking hair, and nails dragging down skin. And though those sounds of pleasure amidst all the pain were heard and hated by each, the distracting effects that caused them began to slow the two women’s rotations. That is until finally, Olivia found herself slammed down to the hard office floor on her back. 

She and her enemy freezing there in the cold, red and yellow glow of the New York skyline that surrounded them. Their claws withdrawing, hands releasing, and limbs dropping from their tight wraps around each others bodies. 

And though they released each other in so many ways, as Natalie glared down from a kneel and Olivia glared back at her from the cold stone floor, they remained in contact. Their eyes locked. Hate-filled souls intertwined. And in a most primal and instinctual of ways, still pussy to pussy. 

Natalie leaving her kneeling legs spread wide to preserve her low-bent, and Olivia bridging up with her bottom half as each sought to keep it. Not just the pressing and presence of one sex against another, but in treachery to their cause, to continue a slow, loathsome grind. 

“This is the cunt that owns him, bitch.” Natalie bragged in a hate-drenched and feral tone. 

“And this is the pussy that’s going to take him….” Olivia replied with no less ferocity, as for one moment amongst many the Jacob’s lovers just remained. One shifting her hips back and then forward, as the other did the same, though up, and then down. 

Each telling themselves that somehow, they were still fighting. Still hurting. Still hating. Even as their eyelids faltered and the eyes beneath flooded with a heavy, lust-heavy glaze. Sights each could see if they had the strength to look at one another.

But as each of the two moaning women felt the quickly wetting kitten of the woman they sought to conquer and rob meet, mesh, and methodically struggle with their own, they found themselves unable. 

To see. 

To hear. 

To know of the others pleasure without it making their own worse.

Why? They couldn’t say, nor did they even ask. For in that moment, the pull was too great. Too strong to deny or pull back away from. And so they lingered in it. Shuddering. Stroking. And fucking one another in the dim.

And yet, as they did. As they dared. A thin layer of sweat began to form on their skin. It growing thicker and thicker, until it began to drip and drop from both Natalie and Olivia’s effort-flushed and claw-marked bodies and to the floor beneath them. Into that resulting liquid leaving Olivia stepped in an attempted adjustment. 

A placement of bracing foot she intended to use to inflict even more pleasure on the woman who dared rub cunts with her.  But that intention dissipated and then entirely disappeared, as the sweat she stepped in made her slip and the bridge Olivia held dropped. Not to the floor, but just far enough for the torrid tips of their warring clits to pull free, and the irresistible power of the moment to dissipate just long enough for each of the two to regain their senses or perhaps to lose them once again. 

“Fucking SLUT!” Cried Natalie as she, from her low kneel, dove forward and atop her nude rival. 

“Only with your husband!” Olivia shouted back. The malice-filled voices of the two twisting and coiling in the air, just as the Asian beauty lifted her legs and wrapped them tightly around her enemy’s abdomen. Her ankles locking high behind that rival’s back, as naked breasts once more came together in a flesh-against-flesh crash. 

That mix of sound — of clap and splash, echoing through the city-lit office as the pain set in. A pain of gym-hardened thighs slamming shut and squeezing together with all the force their owner could find within her. The application of might and will causing she between to cry out in pain and because of the same to collapse down on her enemy. 

“Say it, bitch…. Say it!” Olivia demanded, even as her suddenly deprived pussy begged her to find more of what they had only moments before. Droplets of desire made manifest seeping from not only her own sex, but Natalie’s. Those lascivious liquids falling one slow drip at a time into the pool of well-earned sweat collecting just beneath their lower halves. 

“NoOOOooO” Natalie tried to sound strong, resolute, and unphased, and yet her only spoken word came out in a long, wounded howl that pitched up and down as Olivia’s legs tensed around her mid-section. The woman who had married Jacob not but a few years before struggling to to get free — her hands reaching down to the thighs that wrapped around her to pry and pull. Claw and gouge. 

Weakening and desperate efforts to escape that suddenly  ended when Olivia shouted out her ultimatum once more. “He loves me…. He wants me…. JUST SAY IT!” The words were cruel and true, but most terribly came with a sudden pulse of force that made Jacob’s wife whimper and sob. Her kicking legs, searching purchase, dropping onto knees, just as her hands and fingers, which once bit into Olivia’s flesh went soft and came to rest on the same.

At the telling and tantalizing cessation, the mistress on her back reached up with her left hand and lifted Natalie’s face from the tear-stained breasts on which it had laid. “He doesn’t love you anymore. Set him free….” 

The words were malicious and designed to wound, but they came softly, as if spoken by a friend or a sister. Their speaker using her right hand to brush the hair from Natalie’s eyes, so that the submission and acceptance that was sure to follow could be seen. 

And though there was expectation and even chance, at that fateful moment, just as gazes met, Natalie used the distance created by her lifted head and Olivia’s which had leaned up to see, to strike. Not with claws or fists, but with her head which she drove forward in a wild, awkward attempt at a headbutt. 

A blow that was too slow to land, but unexpected enough to make Olivia’s legs loosen. That lapse of focus and intent creating just enough room for Natalie to once more plant her feet and surge forward. The legs of the woman who had kept and cooed at her sliding down to hips, thighs, and then past. 

That’s when it began. 

A raging, feral, frantic battle to find place atop the other. The hands of the two women pawing and clawing at one another’s body, as their legs kicked and coiled, only to release and repeat as they rolled together seeking leverage. 

And though before their up and over war seemed to last, this session came to a quick end when out of frustration and hate, one grabbed and the other mirrored. 

Not on one another’s hair, but at the pussy that had for so long shared Jacob’s cock. Each of the two jealousy-driven women using their right hands to reach down in their struggle, between their sweat-wet and naked bodies, and then latch on. 

The sudden pain of it making both rivals cry out in pain, as their rolling stopped, and in an unspoken and instinctual agreement to focus, they worked themselves to their knees next to Jacob’s modern metal desk. Their free hands moving to take firm grips of the others hair. Not to pull but to keep their glistening nude bodies together.

Each leaning into the other, as foreheads pressed and fingers caught flesh, some beige and some pink, and held. The tears once offered by Natalie alone now coming from Olivia too, as the true viciousness of their battle began to tear at their already wounded hearts. A pain of a sort they had never endured before flowing from lips and clit and then from there out in an echoing, soul-rending flood. 

Horror though it was to experience and suffer, neither woman thought of letting go or giving in. No, they would stay, they would sustain, they would strike at their rival’s most sacred of treasures. 

A commitment to malice that was made even as in the lights on the high-rises and skyscrapers that surrounded went out. One by one. As one New Yorker after another went home to their families and friends, as Natalie and Olivia drug each other into the deepest depths of hell. 

Not with digging claws, but with paired knuckles and pinching and grasping digits prying at the others lips. Left and then right, up and then down, back and then forward. In their minds picturing the others pussy lips tearing free and away from between their enemy’s spread thighs. 

Thighs that could close at any moment, or flex in an effort to pull their owner away from that moment of mutual destruction. But somewhere in the madness that drove them and the jealousy that owned them, they saw only the opportunity. 

To hurt the woman they hated. 

To tug and wrench at the lips that had on so many occasions slid down the phallus of the man they loved with all their hearts. 

All as they whispered to each other. 

“I’ll never stop….” Natalie offered in a voice that shook and shuddered with pain. “….I’ll never give in….” She added, with no more strength. 

“You’ll give in….” Olivia replied as tears slid down her cheeks. “Then you’ll give him to me….” Without the strength to say more without pause, the Asian mistress finished her threat after a pause. 

Each woman taking their turn to promise and dare as they the hands on the clock turned and their bodies weakened. Their fingers going numb just as wrenched kitten lips did the same. The terrible pain they inflicted still washing over them in waves, but each with less and less effect. 

The sweat on their bodies thickening and slicking until fingers and foreheads began to slip. The former falling from their target and the latter leaving pressed foreheads to shift in opposite directions. One head left and the other right. 

Each coming down softly on the others shoulder as their arms wrapped around and clasped behind the others backs. 

An embrace without pain that lasted only seconds before the two quickly tiring women lifted their heads, turned them in, and then in unison, bit into each others neck. 

Bites they clung to as each screamed into the others teeth-caught skin. The taste of salty sweat and then copper filling their mouths as weakly on their knees they fought to move. At first to their feet and a stand, but when those efforts failed in a series of quick and repeated collapses, in a slow turn. The latter movement not driven by both, but Olivia alone. 

Their sweat slick bodies and breasts leaving every effort the mistress made at movement to come easy. A heat and strain-made allowance that left Natalie to struggle just to hold on to her mysteriously shifting enemy. Neither letting go of their bite or failing to show the pain it caused in agonized and delicate whimpers of misery. Sounds which each shared with the other until Natalie felt Olivia’s arms move from her back, slip between their pressing bodies, and then shove her down to the cold stone-tile floor of the office. 

Had the push been straight, and Natalie could have seen what her rival was up to, perhaps she could have defended against it. But with intention, the force came angled and to the side. Sending the beautiful brunette wife down and to her stomach. Her hands barely keeping her from landing on her face, and having only barely begun to push her back up to spin, when suddenly she felt something wrap around her throat. 

Not a bra, as she had used before on Olivia, but the telephone cord that connected Jacob’s still outdated phone to its base. The center of it pulling tight and cutting off her air, just as in the small of her back, Natalie felt her enemy’s right foot press and pin her down to the floor on her stomach. 

“Biiiiiiiittttccchhhh….” The trapped and strangled wife choked out, as she tried to roll left and then right to no avail. Her every move being thwarted by the sole and toes pressing hard into her back. 

“Fuck…. You… CUNT!” Replied the once again standing and black-haired homewrecker. Her hands gripped tightly shut and pulling back on the twisted and tangled cord. A phone base hanging to the ground on one end, and the receiver doing the same on the other as she wrenched up and back. Those directions being mirrored by Natalie’s spine which began to arch painfully, at odds with its normal curvature. 

But that pain was only a faint glinting star on the outskirts of the brunette’s solar system. As with every second that passed she felt the wavy black plastic and wiring beneath constrict tighter and tighter, cutting off her air and blacking out her vision. 

Flashes of light and darting dots of darkness being all Natalie could see. Sans sight, however, she who writhed naked and afraid on the floor fought to reach back and grab her enemy’s leg, ankle, or whatever else could be taken. 

Tears flooding from her eyes, and dripping like rain onto her back as both she and the woman who sought to choke her into oblivion continued to cry. 

From the intense and seemingly unending effort they were putting forth. 

From the savagery they had been forced to display. 

From the pain each had suffered. Olivia’s body aching from the foot planted on Natalie’s back to the tip of her still-burning scalp. All as the latter found her consciousness and ability to fight on drain with every second that passed. 

And though it was truly seconds that Jacob’s wife had left before she would have slipped into a state beyond waking, escape did she find. Not from her own skills or strategy, but from her rival’s biting fatigue. An exhaustion that caused her back-stepping leg to buckle. 

For only a blink. A millisecond, amongst a sea of others. But when the moment of vulnerability came, Natalie seized on it. 

By rolling from her stomach to her back, and then just as Olivia began to step back and away, to kick. The desperate, breathless, near broken brunette driving her right foot out and into Olivia’s still locked and standing left knee. 

A blow that caused the same to groan out in pain and then fall forward in a heavy, defenseless collapse. The cord and accoutrement that came with it leaving her hands as the same sought to brace for a harsh, front-first landing.

“NoOooO–mMmnNnpphh” Cried out the onyx-haired Asian as dual calamities became one. The mixing of cruelty-spun fates beginning as her face dropped not onto the floor, but deep between Natalie’s soft inner thighs, which without a second thereafter passing, raised, affixed, and then locked hard around Olivia’s tear-stained cheeks. Then, to complete the weaving of woe, the weapon the head-scissored mistress had wielded so willingly was torn away and sent across the breadth of the office in a furious throw that resulted in an echoing crash. 

It was a perfect turn. A swung pendulum without a doubt. But with it came no words of celebration or gloating, as even with her legs locked high above her rival’s head, Natalie could do nothing else but cough and hack — wheeze and wale. Her vision only barely starting to clear, when nails drove into her outer thighs and then drug down. 

Once and then again. Harder and then harder still. But still Natalie clung to her hold — one she gained only by instinct, and yet it was her’s. Her’s to keep, just like Olivia’s head, which struggled against blisteringly tight thighs to raise so that her face could escape the dark, torrid, excitement-wet confines of Natalie’s split-lip sex. 

But with every such effort of escape, came failure. A failure that repeated not once or thrice, but so repeatedly that time seemed to stand still. The passage of it marked only by Natalie’s ceasing coughs, cooling lungs, and return from the very brink of unconsciousness. 

A state and fate which the brunette had not only warded off, but was then inflicting on her enemy. Not with a wire connecting two halves of an outdated desk phone, but instead with the pussy which laid claim to Jacob’s cock. 

The molten, moist, malleable lips of it sliding down and around Olivia’s mouth and nose and then sealing shut. Not completely, but just enough to steal half of every breath taken. That is until, as minutes piled upon minutes, she who found herself trapped could no longer find the energy to try and lift her head to search for air.  A coming and coiling weakness that slowly drained the onyx of her ability to fight. 

“I got you, YOU FUCKING BITCH!” Natalie, after what seemed like half an eternity, finally spoke, as the once clawing fingers of her rival began to paw weakly. 

“Jacob’s mine. He’s mine. And you’re going to say it. You’re going to give him up, or I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL LET YOU LIVE THERE BETWEEN MY THIGHS, YOU FUCKING CUNT.” The long choke that had stolen her voice having passed, Natalie hissed and then shouted — growled and then yelled at the woman who turned feebly one way and then the other. No longer able to think of a plan for escape, but only endure. Not yet willing to give up the man she loved, though she could no longer fight for him. 

“I know you can hear me, slut. I know you’re done. So give up!” It was true. Every word of it. And yet still, Olivia clung to whatever glimmer of resilience she had left, even as saliva slipped from her lips and mixed with the seeping essence from Natalie’s own. Liquids which had been running for so long, that each of the two exhausted and sweat-covered women could feel the puddle beneath them grow. 

“GIVE UP!” Demanded Natalie, as once more she sent a terrible pulse through her still clenched thighs. But even with that force, Olivia offered nothing but a deep, wounded moan. 

“AArrRGgGH” Angry beyond description, and enraged beyond reason, Jacob’s gorgeous wife suddenly rotated not only herself but Olivia too. The brunette using her head scissor to keep the beauty between her thighs trapped. 

Even as she rolled onto her back. 

And even as Natalie rolled atop her. Not in a facesit, but after a quick scootch, into a straddle of her enemy’s chest. The back of her calves and bottom of her thighs keeping Olivia’s biceps pinned and arms useless. 

“Say it….” Came the harsh and irritated demand. 

“Fucking say it!” Once more, it rang out. 

But Olivia, thinking of how much she loved Jacob, refused. Her glassy eyes blinking away tears as she weakly turned her head left and then right, only to return again in refusal. 

“Say. It….” Just at seeing the face of her husband’s mistress again, after so much turmoil and pain, Natalie was driven mad. But then to have the safe refuse what she felt was rightfully hers, drove her arms to pull in, hands to reach down, and fingers to wrap around Olivia’s throat. 

Not in warning. 

Not in threat. 

But to squeeze hard and without cessation. Her digits acting as ten merciless vices working in tandem to force a submission from her rival’s lips. 

Even under that assault, however, Olivia hung on. Refusing to give up. Though her hands flailed pathetically, trying to reach Natalie’s wrists, finding themselves trapped just out of range. 

“You think I won’t…. I would do anything for him…. ANYTHING for him. ANYTHING!!” Quiet and then loud. Hateful and then insane. The words followed the same trajectory their speaker had. 

The love she had for her unfaithful husband, as foolish as it may have been, blinding her to consequence and mercy — empathy or restraint. Those emotions, somewhere beneath the surface of her rage showing only in her tears, which never ceased or slowed.

“Pll–eee–aaa–sseee….” Oliva began to beg through dry, cracked lips, with whatever breath she had left. 

But every syllable and sound only made Natalie squeeze harder and with more hate filling her heart. 

And as loathing surged within one, the darkness which had threatened her brunette rival before came for Olivia. Her eyes blinking slowly and then quickly, as her irises rolled back into her head. Lights streaking and staining what remained of her vision, as her lungs set fire and seized. 

The sum of it all, in a sudden, unretractable decision coming, as Natalie mouthed out without sound, “I give….”

At the sight of the words being spoken, two of the words she had demanded, the reality of the moment and how near Olivia was to utter destruction, came flooding into Natalie’s mind. Her hands, in response, releasing and setting her broken and beaten enemy free, just she collapsed off of her and to the floor. 

Each woman sobbing uncontrollably. 

One as she drug hard and heavy for every breath — hacking and sipping at the air in audible gulps. All as the other lifted her hands up and pressed them to her forehead. Brushing her matted and sweaty hair out from before her eyes as the happenings of the last few hours washed over her, along with one wave of emotion after another. Anger. Hate. Shame. Jealousy. But finally, fear. 

Olivia had given up, but she hadn’t said everything. She hadn’t sworn that she would leave Jacob. Not for a week, or a month, but FOREVER. 

An oath Natalie needed to hear so she could breathe. So she could think. So she could ever be human again, and forget the naked, bitten, brutalized animal she had become. 

And so she rolled to her side, pushed herself to her feet, and then drug Olivia, who had only barely returned to reality, up from the floor by her hair. 

“Now you say it, bitch…. Say you’re done with Jacob.” She should have done it when she had her hands around Olivia’s throat. But in the shock of her enemy submitting, she had let an incautious mercy still her hands. 

“No.…” Olivia began, as in response Natalie’s face contorted with a quickly returning malice. “Please….” The States-born Japanese mistress continued. “Please…. We can…. We can share him…. I….” Stumbling over her thoughts and tripping over her words, the woman who had found herself bested quivered with wide, tear-filled eyes. A palpable sense of desperation and dread of living a life without Jacob overcoming her in the most personal and soul-rending of ways. 

“Don’t…. You…. Even….” Began Natalie. Her fingers twisting and tightening around her standing enemy’s hair. But before she could say or do more, Olivia stepped into her, and pressed not only their exhaustion-ravaged bodies together, but also their lips. 

She who had been defeated kissing the woman who had defeated her. At first softly, and then with more and more passion after begging. “Please…. I can love you too…. And you can love me….” The words would have seemed like poison in her mouth at any point before that moment, but when faced with losing Jacob, Olivia was willing. Wanting. And praying that Natalie, a woman she had tried to strangle, would accept. 

If only to keep the man she loved. To stay in his life. And be near, if not foremost, in the eyes of the man she could not live without. 

And though as Olivia’s kissed her lips, Natalie’s hands balled into fists. And though her first instinct was to strike, as the shivering, terrified Asian’s tongue slipped between her lips, the bruised and victorious wife softened. 

Her balled hands relaxing, and moving to gentle placements on Olivia’s hips. A placement of palms that she then used to pull Olivia closer. The sweat of their war-torn bodies pooling between their compressing breasts as the loser of their struggle fought to overcome the chasm of hearts and minds they had each opened with their battle. 

“Please….” Olivia muttered softly between kisses. Her eyes closed, even as Natalie’s stayed open and filled with a fire, though with every passing second the flames appeared to ebb. 

“Please, Natalie. I’ll do anything….” In her gut, she felt it. The cruel, humiliating sting of having to beg the woman she hated for mercy. But who else could she ask? Who else could give her what she wanted? 

A reprieve from consequence and outcome.

And so Olivia waited. In the terrible silence that surrounded them. The only sound to be heard being that of her unmet, but also unresisted kisses. The  once-vicious brunette offering no response save for her placed and pulling hands. That is until finally, she, the woman who’s response was needed, leaned her head back a quarter inch from that of the woman who sought to kiss, and demanded. 

“Say it…. Say he’s mine….” The words, though they came softly, landed like a hammer-blow to Olivia’s heart. Forcing images of Jacob and their once unmatched love to flash through her mind and memory. And yet, as the Japanese beauty’s eyes opened, she could see something new in Natalie’s eyes. 

A gentleness. 

A wanting. 

An accepting of terms? Olivia could not tell, but when that uncertainty lingered, Natalie answered — not with syllables and sounds, but in a peck. A pursing pressing of lips that came so quickly and without movement, that anyone watching the two as they gazed into each others eyes would have missed it. 

But to Olivia it was hope, both glimmer and grand. And so, taking that precious kiss, as small a token as it was, Olivia spoke. Timidly. Cautiously. And with her entire world hanging on all of it. “He’s yours….”  

At the hearing of those words, Natalie felt a spark run up her spine. A wave of joy that hit her and cascading through her mind and soul, as her lips curled into the thinnest of smiles. 

“Now show me….” Natalie began. Her right hand moving from hip to the air, and then slithering up Olivia’s right arm. “Show me that we can be lovers.” 

Yes! Olivia would have shouted. Thank god! She would have exclaimed. But before she could do either, or show even the slightest sign of excitement, she felt the brunette before her grab a hold of her hair, and with it yank her down to her knees.

Bent legs, which crashed hard into the stone floor, before they were lifted an inch, as Natalie used her grip to pull Olivia’s face forward and into her waiting, half-wounded, and still hungry sex. 

“Do it and we….” The victorious wife started, only to suddenly stop and cry out. “FUCK!” Olivia having already dove in and deep. Desperately and without a moment’s hesitation. She wanting more than anything in the world to seal the deal she had offered. 

Yes, it might be as a lesser. Yes, she would be one of two. But at least she’d have Jacob. And that’s all that mattered at that moment. All that she could hope for, after her submission left her lips. 

And so those same lips worked, as the tongue between them did the same. Passionately, patiently, and to the point where Natalie could barely stand. The standing and sex-skewered brunette stumbling back a half step, before here toned ass pressed against Jacob’s cold metal desk. 

The heavy frame of the Jacob’s workspace being enough to keep her upright, along with Olivia’s hands which reached around and grabbed at the back of her thighs. Grips which pulled the defeated mistress forward and in, so that she could delve deeper and nibble harder — lash longer and suck on the clit that for the briefest of moments had danced with hers. 

And with all of it, came Natalie’s cries of ecstasy. Cries that once more came with tears. This time, tears of joy, which flowed freely once more. 

She had done it. 

She had won it.

And the woman who had challenged her now knelt before her. Bereft of any strength or pride — power or claim. Her every hateful and jealous thought turned to a laser-like focus on pleasing her.

“Keep going, bitch. Keep going….” Natalie demanded without cause, all as once and then again she pulled at Olivia’s hair. Yanking her tongue deeper. Further. And with every heightened stroke of it, closer to their newly-mirrored purpose.

Release and reward. 

Punishment and atonement.

Each of which seemed to come as with a loud, primal cry of pleasure and dominance, Natalie howled out in orgasm. An explosion that tore through her, as Olivia held on tight to keep her safely upright. All as dubitfully, the Japanese defeated continued to lap. Both to lengthen the sensation and to clean the pussy of the woman who from that day on would sit atop her own. 

Figuratively. Literally. And in whatever way Natalie wished it to. 

A fate Olivia was resigned to accept, regardless of the once steel-needs of her painfully shattered pride. 

But that resignation and fate suddenly came to their own break, as with the last few shakes and drips of the standing wife’s orgasm, Olivia felt her hair receive another tug. Not forward for more, or back for relief, but up. 

That yank coming harshly and hatefully, as with a cruel, growling tone, Natalie refuted. “You think I’m going to share him with you, bitch?!? YOU THINK I’M GOING TO LET YOU EVER SEE HIM AGAIN?”

The words came so loud and angrily that the broken, cum-splattered mistress could barely think, let alone respond or argue. She finding her body pulled cruelly, as with a hard, stomping precision, Natalie drug her about the office. The woman at the lead collecting Olivia’s clothes, save for her panties and bra, and then with their owner, marching them to the closed elevator doors at the edge of the private office. 

“Remember that taste in your mouth, cunt. The taste of my pussy. Because it’s as close to Jacob’s cock as you will EVER get again. Do you understand me?!” In a growl as low and feral as if it had come from a fanged Savannah cat, Natalie made clear that all Olivia had begged for had been torn asunder. A severing of hope and reality that came just as the beautiful brunette who tore it in twain reached out and pressed the elevator’s down arrow button. 

It was treachery! Betrayal! A breaking of oaths, Olivia would have raged, if she had the strength. But instead, with every word as it crashed down around her like falling plates, she could do nothing else but beg. 

“Natalie, no, no…. Please….” The word was one she had said again and again, and yet it was all she had at that moment, save for the wetness of Natalie’s release which still clung and dripped from her chin. 

“Don’t take him from me. I need him!” Harder than either had since first Natalie stepped out of the shadows, Olivia balled — her back pressed to the cold metal of the elevator’s doors. 

Words of remorse, desperation, and plea that slipped from lip to the air just as the rival to whom they were spoken moved hand from hair to face and gripped tightly. Olivia’s cheeks pressed in cruelly as the brunette before her held her chin with force and ferocity. 

“He’s mine…. You said it…. And if I ever see you again….” On the unspoken finish of the sentence, Natalie hung. Unsure what she would do should Olivia ever return for Jacob. And though finally, her lips began to part to make that final threat, whatever it may have been, the doors to the elevator opened and her broken, sobbing, bare-bodied enemy fell inside and away.  The doors to the metal tin of travel closing as in a clump on the floor, Olivia curled into a ball. Her clothes landing atop her, just as the light from Jacob’s office and her life disappeared. 

The End

Nails Dig Deep
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8 thoughts on “Who Are You? by Rival’s Rapture

  1. Giannis says:

    I woud prefer another end of the story but it was very well written .

    1. rivalsrapture says:

      Thank you! I am so glad you liked it. There wasn’t a TON of eroticism in it, but enough to still keep it feeling sexy through the pain, panic, and emotion.

  2. hankmccoy02 says:

    Excellent story. I’m a sucker for the “women at war over a disputed lover” plotline, which tends to be ever-prevalent in this genre/fetish. Cliché do it may be; most of my favourite stories feature a variation on this theme. Also, this read like a spiritual successor to “Who is this?” (which is perhaps my favourite Rival’s Rapture tale).

    The action was evenly-contested and compelling. The tone was at times cruel, spiteful, and erotic; without ever veering into excessively brutal territory.

    My happy place in other words 🙂

    1. rivalsrapture says:

      I feel like it’s a cliche that’s still fun to use, and one that a LOT of readers in this genre prefer, even if they’ve seen it a hundred times.

      I definitely wanted to give it the same element of attacks that felt desperate and unrestrained, but also keep from becoming true monsters.

      I’m glad that you see that mission as having been accomplished, and that I hit your sweet spot! You so often hit mine!

  3. JT Edson says:

    Fantastic story! It was so intense. The winner was in doubt almost till the end. I also made a comment on your Free Catfight Forum page.

    Great stuff. Amazing!

    1. rivalsrapture says:

      Thank you for posting there, and here! The more feedback the better! :3

      I’m also glad I kept you in suspense as to who was going to win. I always try to do that in my stories.

      The feeling of tension was something I really wanted to capture, so that it matched, at least in some way, Who is This? Which this was to be a spiritual successor/sister story to.


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