Faheema Salih vs. Bubbles Burste - Birds Of A Feather

There she was, standing tall on the apron, her arm raised high in the sky. Mariah lifted her arms, too, and the crowd took her cue, starting a rising yell as the tension was built, building energy for the moment. Bubbles couldn’t help but smile - moreso than she already was, of course, and for a different reason than usual. While she hadn’t always been a fan of classic wrestling, even after she became a wrestler herself, Mariah had turned her on to it when they started dating, and this was the sort of thing that hooked her.

The showmanship, the theater, the way the crowd enhanced the experience more than any other sport..the whole package. There was just nothing like wrestling. Only here, did moments like this happen.

She launched herself into the air and trusted entire body to gravity, letting out a triumphant yell as she began to descend. ”Here we OH CRAP!”

That last bit came in the half-second where she realized that her body was still falling even after it really should’ve hit Faheema’s body. Which meant that she’d managed to move. Which meant that she had another three or so feet to fall, unabated. Which meant that the next half-second was going to suck.

Bubbles had a big butt, but despite popular opinion on it, it didn’t help her in situations like this as far as she could tell. She came down hard on her posterior and the impact sent a shockwave through her body. Her smile was replacing with a gritted grimace, as she rolled over to her hands and knees and reeled from the pain.

”Whoa!” Mariah yelped and backed away at the referee’s urging. ”Babe! You okay?”

Bubbles groaned and looked over her shoulder, knowing Faheema wouldn’t let this opportunity slip by. ”Uh...not for long, I think…”

Only here, did moments like this happen. Moments, like the sight of a white and gold blur descending down to Earth. Moments, like the sudden turn from the crowd's cheering to their utter dismay as Bubbles cried in pain. Yes, those were moments worthy of Faheema Salih. She didn't stop to savor them, though. As Mariah called out to her wife, Faheema rolled out of the ring, her boots hitting concrete with an audible, ominous thud. Bubbles barely got time to reply before dark hands were lowered to her head, clutching the hair tightly to compel her back to her feet, at least for a little while.

“You worry too much, she's fine!” Faheema yelled over her shoulder as she pulled Bubbles' head back, only to slam it against the edge of the ring as hard as she could, holding it there with a hand clasped across the back of her neck. The other hand went for her opponent's nearest arm, grabbing the wrist tightly to twist the arm behind her back, leaving her bent awkwardly over the edge of the ring.

Leaning down, Faheema brought her lips, curled into a smile, to within an inch of Bubbles' ear. While her hand pushed back and forth to rub Bubbles' face against the apron, her words, softly spoken, would add to that dominating display. “Remember, lover, I only do this because I like you...because I have to have you,” Faheema whispered, giving the vulnerable woman's ear a quick lick. Aside from the deliberately scary word choice, Faheema was being sincere. Bubbles was a wonderful person, inside and out, and Faheema wanted to make sweet bedroom music with her.

First, though, Bubbles needed to be softened up, so Faheema started firing one of her legs up and down, kneeing Bubbles in her exposed gut again and again. To repay her for the headlock earlier, Faheema was going to push as much air out of her lungs as possible!

Bubbles managed to put on a good smile for her wife, doing her best to assuage Mariah’s fears as Faheema closed in, the tigress nearing her fallen prey. She was a wrestler, they both knew better than to worry about her getting hurt in a wrestling match of all things, but it was hard to fight instincts. The last thing she wanted was for Mariah to worry.

But, the truth was, she had good reason to. While this was hardly the first time she’d been on the defensive, but Faheema was a different sort of wrestler. There was raw, animalistic hunger in those eyes, a fierceness in her moves that terrified and turned Bubbles on at the same time.

It was that honed ferocity that lifted Bubbles up and brought her head down with a sick crash against the ring's edge, making the audience wince from the impact. It left her head swimming and it only got worse from there, as her arm was roughly yanked back and immobilized. Bubbles was the stronger one between them, but the right sort of leverage and a good hold could make that power useless, and it wasn’t like Faheema was weak by any measure.

She was left groaning as her face grated along the apron, the hard edge slicing against her features. Even through that pain, though, she shivered at the bestial whisper in her ear, quivering while Faheema spoke what Bubbles already knew. This almost didn’t feel like a match anymore. It was too primal for such a civilized label, like a fight for dominance between two cavewomen in heat.

And now she had the image of her and Faheema rolling around in the dirt, wearing fur-skin bikinis. Pleasant. She’d have to put a bookmark on that.

Brutal as this abuse was, Bubbles was starting to adapt, and maybe she could’ve summoned enough fortitude to fight back in a moment. Faheema, however, wasn’t about to give her the chance, as any effort to counter was squashed the moment her knee started shooting upwards and found a nice stomach to calls its new home.  One. Two. Three hits, back to back, with more to come behind them. Each other drove the air from Bubbles’ body and made her legs wobble, until she reached her breaking point. The Virgin Killer dropped down to her knees from the onslaught, coughing up a storm all the way.

Now Faheema was starting to get somewhere. Bubbles was hurting, more than a little, more than even Faheema had anticipated. Then again, she did do her best work when she had the environment on her side. A lot of her fights in Egypt's dirty urban centers had been won only because she'd found the right wall, floor, or object to bash her attackers against. The Friction arena, highly clinical in its layout, didn't have as much potential for opportunism, but there were still solid surfaces to work with, like the one she had just finished rubbing Bubbles' face in.

Doubling down with pure pain would have been a waste of Faheema's talent, however, when there were kinkier uses for her surroundings. Pulling Bubbles up once more, Faheema shoved her into the edge of the ring again, back-first this time. Firing a chop across her chest to keep her distracted, Faheema then pulled Bubbles' arms up and hooked each of them over the bottom rope, which was actually pretty high up with the two of them standing at this elevation. Reaching under the rope to grab her wrists, Faheema started pulling down on them.

For a brief moment, she pulled as hard as she could, deliberately torquing Bubbles' elbow joints over the ropes and twisting her wrists. Causing pain wasn't the goal Faheema was working toward, however, so she soon relaxed her muscles, holding Bubbles' wrists tightly to keep her tied upright against the ropes, but otherwise letting her relax. “Now, where were we?” she said with a sly grin, before stepping forward abruptly to mash their bodies together. With Bubbles trapped against the edge of the ring, Faheema extended her tongue and tried to resume the kiss that they had been sharing earlier.

As Bubbles reeled from each cutting knee, one question dominated her mind, and she was willing to bet Mariah was pondering the same one: where the heck did Faheema come from? Judging from the way she talked and the impression she gave off, this was the first time she’d been on such a big stage, if she’d ever wrestled before at all. But her moves were dangerous, so much so that it was hard to imagine her not making a big name for herself before this.

She was certainly in the process of doing that right now. Scattered cheers rang from the audience as she hoisted Bubbles up and turned her hand into a whip, using it to lash her chest with fiery force. The noise Bubbles’ made this time was one of elation and agony - it felt like her chest was inflamed, but at the same time, it stung in that kinky way, the sensation that only comes when there’s some domination mixed in.

As much as Bubbles’ wanted to win, she couldn’t deny the potential of having the reverse happen. She could think of far worse fates than being under Faheema’s thumb for a night.

Almost as if she wanted to prove what Bubbles’ was thinking, Faheema’s next move had her lifting Blossom up and using the ropes to ensnare her, tangling her arms in the ropes. She tried to fight, resist, escape the clear setup, but it wasn’t happening - she was too stunned and hurting at the moment. Even she needed some time to recover from a beating like that, and until she did, Bubbles was at Faheema’s mercy. However little of that she had.

Her eyes had been half-lidded, but they shot wide-open when Faheema pressed up against her, sandwiching the Virgin Killer between her and the ring. Breasts met and shifted against each other, with the Nubian’s nipples drilling into her. Their legs tangled with each other, and Bubbles’ began to rub her sculpted thigh between Faheema’s leg without even thinking.

The main attraction, though, was the kiss between. Sweat seemed into it, giving it a salty taste that Bubbles’ savored, as their tongues continued the wrestling match. Moans and groans mixed with each moment, and she even took a bite on Faheema’s bottom lip - not hard enough to draw blood, just a painful tease to help bring out the beast between them. Then it was right back to it, as her tongue attempted to take the grand tour of Faheema’s mouth.

So far, Faheema had done well impressing the crowd by keeping her opponent under control. Most of her vigor was focused on keeping her hold on Bubbles, who would feel that determination in the bulging of the dark-skinned muscles that were pressed so firmly against her. Her nipples were getting pretty stiff, and even though she was still wearing her bikini, the woman she'd originally stolen it from had been much smaller than her. The top could barely hold the contents of Faheema's chest, especially now that it was being jostled around by all the body-to-body grinding. A single determined tug on the cord tied around her back would expose her bust to the eyes of Bubbles and the crowd. Not that she would mind that. If anything, participating in Friction's bizarre custom of bodily exposure was a preferable alternative to the much more conservative customs of her forsaken homeland.

Her willingness to go topless had only one condition: she wanted Bubbles to go first. Taking a risk by releasing her hold on Bubbles' left wrist, Faheema fiddled with the back of the Virgin Killer's ornate top as covertly as she possibly could. It was already loose from when Faheema had tugged on it earlier, and it was her hope that Bubbles would be too distracted by their little sexual contest to actually free herself.

Unfortunately, Faheema was starting to realize that she was losing that contest. She had trapped Bubbles in order to pleasure her, but in retrospect, doing so in a position that allowed her to reciprocate had been a very bad idea. Now, the Virgin Killer was showing off the sort of talent that justified that kind of nickname...and exposing how vulnerable Faheema could be when sensual tactics were on the table.

She was slowly taking control of their kiss, making Faheema mewl and shudder with her surprising love bite and working her tongue deeper and deeper into Faheema's mouth. Her own tongue wasn't idle, shoving and sliding against the invading muscle, but it kept escaping her, making her twitch periodically as Bubbles found new surfaces inside her mouth to tickle and caress. Down below, every shift of Faheema's body massaged her against muscles that were strong but somehow soft and warm to the touch. None of them were more troublesome than that bulging thigh muscle, flexing as it shifted up and down, massaging the African beauty's loins until a thin coat of moisture started forming along the folds of her sex.

The crowd had no clue that anything was wrong, since Faheema still looked like she was in control. Hell, it was possible that Bubbles herself didn't realize what an effect she was having, because unlike earlier in the match, Faheema didn't respond to the pleasure by squealing like a schoolgirl. After putting on such a dominant display, she was bitterly determined not to let Bubbles witness her soft side again. No, as soon as she had the top of Bubbles' costume, she was getting out of dodge and transitioning into something else. Perhaps the pendulum would swing back toward more conventional violence, since she'd had so much more success kicking the shit out of this woman.

Bubbles knew there was a certain stigma when it came to hentai wrestling. She had Twitter. She read the message boards. She’d seen the poorly constructed Youtube videos and overly elaborate blog posts. There were many wrestling purists who considered it glorified porn, like it was just one step removed from something on a Clips4Sale store.

And...they weren’t totally wrong. It was porn, no getting past that. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t strategy to it, or that it had no technique.

Case-in-point: To the casual eye, it probably looked like Bubbles was in deep trouble at the moment, that Faheema was dominating her totally. To be sure, she wasn’t in a good position - the blonde was loving her touch, and there was little she could do to stop her ravenous foe from tugging her breasts free, exposing them both to the bright lights. A scandalous gasp escaped Bubbles' mouth and slipped into Faheema’s, and she shuddered at the sensation of fresh air on her sweaty orb.

But it wasn’t that big of a deal, really. Chances were, Bubbles would’ve taken her own top off at some point, maybe even sooner if she’d had the opportunity. What was more, while she was worked up, she wasn’t so much so that she didn’t notice certain things about the body she was linked to. Like the way Faheema’s tongue was giving way to hers, battered about more territory was claimed within her mouth. Or the fact that sweat wasn't the only liquid slipping onto her thigh. If there was one thing Bubbles knew about both sex and wrestling, it was that being on top wasn't the same thing as being in control.

With one of her arms unattended and Faheema focused on her chest, Bubbles decided this was the best time to make an attempt at switching things around in full. As much as she hated to bring her thigh away from Faheema’s wetting sex, she had a better use for both her legs.

Bubbles tried to bring them around her opponent's waist, tuck her right ankle underneath her left knee, and put on a brutal squeeze with the figure-four bodyscissors, bearing down on Faheema’s bones with the full power of her legs, trying to crush her in the shrinking space. That was the pain, but there was pleasure, too - while Bubbles’ thigh wouldn't be there to grind against her sex anymore, it would be replaced with the Virgin Killer’s own womanhood, driving them together with rowdy humps, thrusting forward and slamming their hips together.

At the same time, Bubbles’ would free her unattended arm from the ropes and reach behind the Nubian’s skull, getting a firm grasp of her hair and yanking her head back. That would break the kiss, but it didn't mean her mouth was done - a second later, she brought her lips to Faheema’s neck, gave it a quick peck, then savaged it with a ferocious love bite. Hard enough to break skin? No. But there would be marks. Something to remember her by for a while.

‘Glorified porn’? No. This was speed-chess, with their body parts as the pieces.

Faheema couldn't resist ogling her opponent's enormous bust once it was exposed, so she didn't try to. She stared into those colorful areola, those erect nipples, all looking so tasty to her. Withdrawing her face from her opponent's, Faheema bit her lip, purred happily...and then grimaced as something with the strength of a bear trap began crushing her waist. It was Bubbles, bringing those sculpted legs up and locking them tight around her body to squeeze her into submission. The pain was enough to make Faheema tremble as it shocked her system, but she remained strong, glaring into Bubbles' eyes and suppressing the urge to cry out. This was nothing. She could handle physical torment like the toughest woman out of Africa, because she was the toughest woman out of Africa!

Nothing with Bubbles was ever simple, though. Her pelvis started rocking, applying rhythmic pressure to Faheema's groin. The effect was hard to appreciate while the Nubian was gritting her teeth and jerking her body around, trying to dislodge the rock-solid muscles that were grinding down her hips. More notable to Faheema was the sudden tug on her hair, forcing her head back and exposing her vulnerable neck.

“Hnh...mmm,” Faheema moaned, no longer able to ignore her urges as Bubbles kissed her. More than the quick peck, however, it was the tugging of her tresses that quickened the pace of her beating heart. Faheema had grown over time to enjoy the sensation of being yanked around by her hair. It was...an adaptive kink, acquired in her travels due to the sheer number of people she had fought that had all resorted to targeting her curly locks. For this transgression, they often walked away with broken fingers, but the rush that she got from being attacked in this manner had grown until it became a part of her. It wasn't the only type of violence that she found arousing, either. Her earlier decision to soften Bubbles with a knife edge chop hadn't been an accident. She loved striking with the palm of her hand, loved the sting and the red hot mark it left behind, and she was willing to bet that the feeling was mutual.

Before the next 24 hours were up, Bubbles would know many of these urges, and maybe even share in some of them. Sadly, it would have to wait, because when Faheema felt teeth closing around her throat, gnawing hard enough to induce sharp pain, she finally decided that she'd had enough. She wanted out of this ill-fated position, and she knew how to make that happen.

In her ravenous lust, Bubbles seemed to have misplaced an important detail of her current position: one of her arms was still wound tightly around the ring rope. Did Bubbles take it for granted that Faheema was not subjecting this arm to any pain, when she easily could? Well, that mercy was about to come to an end. Where one arm had held Bubbles previously, now both gripped her wrist, squeezing it, twisting it. Slowly, she started to lean backward, subjecting the entire arm to more and more tension, using the rope itself as a fulcrum to torque her elbow joint. If Bubbles dared to squeeze or bite any harder, then Faheema would respond in kind, threatening to bend her arm to a literal breaking point.

“You bite too hard. Release me right now, or I break this skilled arm of yours,” Faheema hissed. The two of them were in a stalemate now, and unlike earlier, there was no pleasure to be found here. Only pain. By turning their current predicament into a zero-sum game, she hoped to persuade Bubbles to let her go. Once she did, if she did, Faheema was planning to retreat by diving under the ropes and back into the ring, to put some temporary space between them...and give her burning body a chance to cool down.

Bubbles was disappointed. Not in Faheema, exactly, but disappointed all the same. When she latched her teeth onto that dark skin and dug in, it wasn’t simply to do damage and leave a mark. That was only a small part of it. She could bite Faheema all day, and as lovely a thought as that was, it wouldn’t get her any closer to winning this match.

No, she bit because she was hoping to get another squeal out of Faheema. To force out that heavenly sound once more.

When it didn’t come, Bubbles was  like a child coming out of a candy store empty-handed, unsatisfied and unsated. She was quick to brush that thought aside, though, and replace it with lustful determination. She’d promised to make this woman scream, and she was going to deliver on that. It didn’t matter how hard she had to work, or how much she had to squeeze, or how long she had to fuck. One way or another, those stubborn lungs were getting a workout.

Left to her own devices, she might’ve tried to make that happen right then and there, willing to gnash and gnaw and clamp and crush her foe as long as it took to get what she wanted.

Willing...but not able.

It was Bubbles’ turn to cry out now, and it wasn’t a shriek of pleasure, either. This one was agony, as her arm was bent in a way it was never designed to go. That arm. Almost forgot about it. The blonde behemoth cursed under her breath, and might have even smacked her forehead if her hands weren’t so occupied elsewhere.

While she was the stronger one between them, Faheema’s power was nothing to scoff at, and with the rope to aid her there was little doubt that she could make good on her threat. With anyone else, any other opponent, Bubbles would have called their bluff, doubting the average hentai wrestler would have the drive for something so brutal. But ‘average’ wasn’t a word that belonged in any sentence that referred to Faheema

Bubbles licked her lips, sighed, and let her go after one, final hump. Sometimes, the only way to protect your Queen was to threaten your opponent's.

Her opponent retreated back into the ring, and Bubbles used the momentary ceasefire to get her arm free, untangling it from the ropes. She gave it a few good shakes and grunted with each one, as the blood began to flow properly once more. A quick glance at Mariah showed her the worry in her wife’s eyes, and she knew where it came from. While she doubted there would be any permanent damage, it would make her power moves more of a chore than they needed to be. A complication she didn’t need.

Bubbles gave her a quick nod to let her know she was okay - okay enough anyway. Hurt or not, she had a match to do and a wild tigress to claim. Back to it.

She rolled her way back into the ring and stood back up, massaging her arm as she rose. ”Think I almost had you, there. Nice moves. And sorry about the bite.” Bubbles began to lower her stance once more and move around the ring, stalking Faheema, but holding off for the moment.

”Remember, lover, I only do this because I like you.” She echoed Faheema’s earlier words as she started to inch her way over, mixing them with some of her Southern flavor. ”Because I have to have you.”

While Bubbles attended to the needs of her body, Faheema attended to her own. One hand went to massage the bite mark on her neck, the other went down to her crotch, pressing it tightly in an attempt to deaden the sensations that Bubbles had inflicted on her. Biting Faheema as hard as she did had been a mistake, triggering Faheema's conventional self-defense instinct regardless of what the intent had been. Truthfully, though, Faheema should not have needed the extra impetus to flee, not when Bubbles had already gained so much control over her. Her skills as a fighter were nothing to scoff at, but it was her passion as a lover, and her seamless blending of pleasure and pain, that really made Faheema nervous.

Even as she stood in the safety of the ring, she couldn't stop thinking about it. The way Bubbles had captured her, held her tightly, before proceeding to caress her, kiss her, grind against her. Pain could be endured, because she had endured it all her life, but the care and affection her opponent showed was like nothing she'd ever felt. Serenity threatened to overtake her every time it happened, as she came to realize just how much she wanted and needed that affection. The more Bubbles did to her, the more she would start to peel back Faheema's thick skin. Start to find out what she really was under the muscle and the grime and the temper: a young woman, lonely and neglected without a Mariah in her life to lay with her at night.

Alas, that Faheema was weak and needy, and because she was pathologically afraid of letting others see her weakness, she kept her soft side buried. If fate smiled on her, she would not give Bubbles another chance to see that cute persona that she found so enjoyable – not without a fight, anyway. When Bubbles reentered the ring, Faheema started circling along with her, putting the two in a momentary staring contest, sizing each other up for the start of the next round.

“I've felt worse before,” Faheema shook her head when Bubbles apologized, “but you're right. I was awfully worked up back there.” When Bubbles echoed the words Faheema had spoken earlier, she couldn't keep a lopsided grin from appearing on her face, blushing at the husky accent of her opponent. The Virgin Killer had a charm about her, there was no denying that. “Let's go then!” Faheema shouted in a jubilant tone, adopting a wide stance and closing in to initiate a lockup with her opponent. Overpowering her opponent was not the goal here, as Faheema wanted to use her hold to launch one of her knees into the side of Bubbles' rib cage.