Personal Jesus

There was no way to ‘win’, here. They weren’t fighting for submissions or orgasms or pinfalls or anything like that, and unless there was a referee hiding in Diana’s bedroom, this ‘match’ would only stop when one of them wanted it to, and perhaps not even then. Calling it a fight was almost too fancy a term. This was something more primal. More brutal.

All the same, Carmen shouldn’t have forgot her boxing instincts. Should’ve kept her guard up. Should’ve been expecting retaliation.

But when she landed those two blows, struck paydirt, she got into the moment, found herself aching to followup. Defense wasn’t on her mind when she came in, and that turned out to be a mistake. A painful mistake.

Carmen had taken some heavy uppercuts in her time, but few of them were attacks she’d run into full speed. That made Diana’s blow so much worse than it naturally would’ve been. It had enough force to lift Carmen clean off her, bending her in half as she bounced with her mouth wide and gaping. When she came down, she came down hard, falling to her knees instantly while she leaned forward.

One arm was grasping her stomach, the other hand was placed on the floor, and it looked for all the world like she was bowing in humble supplication to the wrestling goddess before her.

Diana as ever lacked a air of cockiness about her, but even she couldn't deny that she sensed her blow plainly hurt. It was somewhat luck that allowed the strike to connect so neatly; good luck on Diana's part that it skipped any form of defence, bad luck on Carmen's that she ran into it.

She felt mixed emotions as the woman before her went down, cradling the wound and seemingly admiring her, at least for a moment. Everyone liked being admired. But Diana couldn't deny that the fact the woman she'd long to conquer being on her knees before her, and so early into the scuffle as well, clearly rubbed her up the wrong way. To the Italian, it was like beating an army with a paper clip. Or downing the 24/7 championship with a early strike. Seemingly too easy. Was she mocking Diana?

Baring her teeth like a wild animal, most likely over analysing the situation before her, Diana simply leapt forward almost cat like. Aiming to press hands to Carmen's shoulders, her legs straddling the woman, as ever her hefty chest pressing roughly into Carmen's own, she'd simply stare into her rivals eyes, teeth still bared. She didn't strike Carmen, yet at least, but more tested her, for confirmation to see if the champion had swapped her usual rough, precise and consistant fighting style for that of an attempt to get in Diana's head.

Damn it. Carless. Too careless. And so stupid.

Carmen cursed under her breath as she went down, muttering with Spanish, Japanese, and a little Italian she’d picked up from Diana. She’d walked into the punch. It wasn’t a bad one, nothing wrong with the way the busty Italian delivered it, but there was no excuse for taking so much of it like that. If her father was here, he’d give her all kinds of hell for falling for it.

Then again, he’d probably be too up in arms about her rolling around half naked with another woman to give her fighting technique much thought.

Regardless, she ‘paid’ for it a second later, as Diana came crashing down on her. Their breasts mashed together and their bodies slid along, meeting each other and fitting in a way that only they could. Diana’s hot breath flowed over her neck, tickling her chin.

This was it. This was what she needed. There was only one problem: Diana seemed to be stopping. Why was she stopping?

BIting her lip, she looked up at the amazon and thrust her hip up, rubbing their crotches along each other. At the same time, she struggled to get her shoulders free, looking to squirm out. Carmen was still full of fight, and she wanted - needed - Diana to get it out of her.

As Diana latched herself on the woman, her eyes remained almost glued. She wanted to scream her heart out at the woman. Why was she here? Why her? And why go down seemingly so damn easy? Instead, seemingly all her questions would come out at once, in a mumbled grunt.

Pressing bodies fully, Diana's larger bouncy set resting on the firmness that was Carmens figure, a onlooker would be torn over what the scene actual was; two fighters about to tear one another apart, or two lovers about to erupt. The latter seemed to be the safer bet, as Carmen forced a hefty grind of her thigh against Diana's sex, causing the Italian to give what could only be described as a angry purr. She even nearly let Carmen escape so easily from her, before she regained her senses and remembered just who it was underneath her.

Diana couldn't deny that she too needed something from Carmen. To simply conquer her. At least once, outright and indisputably. To her somewhat chagrin, the top level fighter beneath her felt somewhat akin to a final boss to the Italian. She simply wasn't ready to beat Carmen physically in the ring, or any setting for that matter. She could make Carmen bleed, hell, even break. But never go down. Not yet.

Instead much like the first time the two decided to 'heat' things up, Diana would try to take full control of her rival another way. A much more lewd way. Hand coming down to Carmen's own, she'd force her wrist up, in an attempt to land Carmen's strong hand on her own hefty chest. Pressing heads closer, she'd force a grind of her own back with her thigh, albeit much harder, and much more lingering.

They’d only stopped for a few seconds, but to Carmen, it felt like much, much longer. There was Diana. On her. So close. Skin against skin, face against face, breath against breath. There was electricity there, and every moment they were touching and not doing anything came like raw agony to Carmen.

Pain or pleasure. One or the other. She had to have it.

Thankfully she got it not long after. Carmen gladly let Diana place her on that delicious breast - it was where she wanted her hand to be, after all. And she certainly had no problem with their thighs working in tandem. That was heavenly, and she loved the sensation of that iron thigh sliding against her.

But it could be better. Harder.

She cupped Diana’s breast for a moment, then tightened her grip and squeezed hard, letting her fingers sink deep into the flesh, twisting away at it. At the same time, she brought their lips together, but not for another kiss - this time she seized the lower lip between her teeth with a sharp bite, just strong enough that Diana could pull away, but not without a fair bit of pain in the effort.

Diana simply observed at first, seeing how Carmen reacted to the fact Diana had essentially 'opened her arms' to that form of assault per say, as her eyes kept a focused gaze on the now lip locking champion. The squeeze on Diana's breast didn't create much of a reaction beyond the woman's breathing slightly escalating, before a twist forced a sharp yelp to be released right into Carmen's lips. But once more to reiterate, Diana was in no mood to lose control. In a way, their situation was no different to a AFW sanctioned match. Only instead of a 'win' marker on her record, Diana lingered for a much bigger prize. Carmen under her thumb, even if it was for a moment.

Forcing a parting of lips, with blood being drawn albeit in minuscule amounts from Diana's bitten lips, Diana would begin to move upwards, into a all fours position. Once her feet were stable, with her breast still grasped, her hands would shoot to Carmen's own armpits. With a heave of great strength, she'd try to dead lift Carmen not only up off the ground, but partially into the air, before rushing forward.

Aiming to slam Carmen into the nearest wall with all the power of a move reminiscence of a spine buster, Diana's intention was of course not to knock the woman out, or even woozy Carmen in the slightest. Now pressing bodies in a standing position, with Carmen higher up and feet still dangling, she'd latch her own teeth onto Carmen's neck. Biting and sucking with all the mannerisms of a vampire, Diana wasn't intending to outright draw blood from Carmen. Just leave a mark that wouldn't be fading any time soon.

Carmen let her fingers sink in deep, roughly kneading Diana’s firm breast. She’d always loved the feel of the Italian’s honed muscles, even when they were trying to destroy each other in the ring. Her body was like a work of art. It begged to watched. Touched. Adored. Worshipped. Prodded.

She savored the yelp from the busty Amazon, loving the way her cry echoed into Carmen’s mouth. Sure, she managed to pull her lips free a moment later, but the damage had been done. She knew her lover well enough to expect the retaliation that was coming next.

She clung tight to Diana, wrapping her legs around her back and squeezing tight as she was lifted up, carried in an impressive display of carnal strength. She braced for impact when she saw where this was going, but there was only so much preparation she could do for this sort of brutality. She hit the wall and she hit it hard, with so much force she was sure that the plaster behind her had cracked.

She let out a pained gasp at the impact, and then an even louder one as Diana’s pearly white teeth sunk into her neck. Vicious, gnawing, chewing, the sort of bite that would be leaving marks, no question. Not a problem, though. Carmen could take bruises and she could give bruises.

She ran one hand down Diana’s back, scratching away it, leaving red marks and welts with her fingernails. The other hand went from some more traditional, as it blasted Diana’s ribs with punch after punch, drilling each one hard into her bones.

Working her way through Carmen's neck, with all the dedication and passion she'd implore into any standard wrestling manoeuvre, Diana was considering working the love bite until Carmen begged her to release. Or make her. A sharp scratch to her sensitive back area would force the Italians back to arch forward, pressing tightly against Carmen, bulging her breasts out even firmer into the champions own body.

The shots to her ribs however, whilst not unexpected even amidst the passionate 'love making,' had somewhat of a different affect than Carmen likely suspected. Well, maybe not unlikely from Diana Accera.

Growling with each blow, her hands would again shoot to Carmens armpits once more, before sliding in and around the woman's firm torso. Holding her sexy figure tightly, still being struck nearly every second, Diana would suddenly shift the woman down to a waiting knee; made somewhat easier to perform given that Carmen's own legs had chose to wrap around Diana rather than dangle or attempt a stand.

Attempting to numb that firm Puerto Rican ass on said knee, Diana would respond directly to her foes repeated strikes by shoving her head forward straight into Carmen's chin. The sharpness of the chin would undoubtedly hurt Diana's head more than said move hurt Carmen, but pain was not the goal here. Diana wanted Carmen nice and numb, even for a second.

The punches were meant to hurt Diana, and judging from the way her body jerked and the sound of pounding flesh, they most certainly accomplished that much. Diana was a tough woman, rock solid, but Carmen could make her hurt. She’d done it before. The trick was to just keep pouring on the pressure.

But the scratching? That was just to make her hurt. To provoke. And it worked.

Carmen threw her head back and shrieked as Diana dropped her down hard on the knee, landing right on the tailbone and sending waves of pain up and down her spine. It was a sharp, stinging jolt, and it if wasn’t enough to leave her stunned, the headbutt that followed certainly was.

Her head jerked back as their skulls connected, and Carmen’s body failed her for a moment. She sagged forward in Diana’s iron grasp and shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs and stop the world from spinning. She’d be fine in a moment, but a woman like this could do so many things in such a short period of time.

Make no mistake, Diana was by no means trying to force Carmen to land on her knee akin to a massive low blow. She purposefully pulled her downwards whilst still against the wall, so that Carmen's legs would ideally stay wrapped, meaning her firm ass took the entire blow.

Her own forehead in a world of pain, Diana tried her best to regain her senses quickly and as ever, bite through the pain. The pay off was simply too huge if she did.

Sliding Carmen back up the wall slightly, she'd press her own thigh immensely hard against the sex of Carmen, whilst her face came but a inch away from the champions as she held her off the ground. Arms holding Carmen in a lifted firm embrace, she'd begin to grind said leg against the woman, her face emotionless as she acted like she was applying any typical submission manoeuvre.

She'd try as she would to resist the urge to bite her own lip from the heat of the moment; essentially humping Carmen in a lifted hold was one thing, but if she actually managed to make the 24/7 champion climax without even fully undressing her? Diana would never let her forget it.