Faheema Salih vs. Bubbles Burste - Birds Of A Feather

The sound of spanking rang through the arena, though it really didn’t sound that way. Typically, when one thought of spanking, they imagined some naughty little girl getting patted on the butt by her parent, squawling because of tender strikes that wouldn’t have amounted to more than a slap on a grown man’s face. If they were of a kinkier mind, maybe they would see a twenty-something woman with wide hips, getting struck on her generous hips with a ruler wielded by sensual schoolteacher.

This was nothing like that. This was a barbaric, brutal, barebottom beating, and it had only just begun.

There was a slight reprieve after the first, where Faheema gave the point of searing impact a soothing rub, bThe sound of spanking rang through the arena, though it really didn’t sound that way. Typically, when people thought of spanking, they imagined some naughty little girl getting patted on the butt by her parent, squalling because of tender strikes that wouldn’t have amounted to more than a slap on a grown man’s face. If they were of a kinkier mind, maybe they would see a twenty-something woman with wide hips, getting struck on her generous hips with a ruler wielded by a sensual schoolteacher.

But that only made what happened next so much worse, lulling her into a false sense of security that didn’t last. Then the followups came, hard and fast and relentless, striking like lightning and echoing like thunder. Each one was accompanied by another shriek, another squawk, another heinous moan, as the mighty Bubbles thrashed about in Faheema’s sinful grasp. Strange as it looked, she was too tired to resist, still too hurting from the beatdown to summon the bulk of her strength.

Being honest, she didn’t really want to. Her submissive side didn’t get nearly enough loving, and it was a nice itch to occasionally scratch. There would be payback, she was still dedicated to winning this match, but that would stop her from enjoying this little detour.

Finally, finally, Faheema came down with the last blazing slap, one that sent Bubbles rolling to the mat. At first she rolled onto her back, but she only stayed there for half a second before the pain of her skin on the canvas became too much. She had to roll over onto her bountiful chest and squint hard as she reached back to rub her ass, putting her buttocks on display for the whole world to see - more so than before, anyway. As tan as Bubbles’ skin was, Faheema’s handiwork still showed clear, as a crimson handprints adorned each cheek. They wouldn’t be fading anytime soon.

At least, Bubbles hoped they wouldn’t, because she planned on making Faheema kiss each and everyone. She wasn’t quite sure how she’d get to that point, but she was working on it.

For now, her main concern was getting back to her feet. She reached out the nearby ropes and used them for support, slowly rising. She was wide open, and she doubted Faheema would let that slide, but there was little choice. Bubbles needed to do something, and she needed to start doing it fast.

Paddling her debut opponent hard enough to make her butt sting on contact with the ground would be a fond memory of Faheema's for a long time. Her job wasn't done, though, and she had played around enough. It was time to treat Bubbles with the severity that her hulking size and strength truly deserved, and put her down in brutal fashion.

While Bubbles writhed on the ground, grabbing the ropes to pull herself up, Faheema examined her surroundings. Outside the ring, her eyes noted the drop off from the canvas to the concrete floor below. Just the kind of nasty fall that Faheema could exploit to accelerate her heavy opponent's demise. Stomping toward the edge of the ring with a determined glare, Faheema picked up speed and threw a sharp kick at her opponent's stomach to double her over. She grabbed for that blonde hair that she loved pulling so much, and tried to tuck Bubbles' head underneath her armpit.

Faheema pulled her opponent by the head, tearing her away from the ropes and turning her around so that Faheema's back would touch the ropes instead. Following that, she only had to wrap Bubbles' adjacent arm around the back of her neck to complete the setup for a suplex, one that would catapult Bubbles out of the ring with devastating impact.

It was a tall order. The basic suplex wasn't an impressive throw on its face, but against such a massive opponent, even the simplest throws became a nightmare to execute. Most women weren't strong enough for it, but Faheema was even stronger than she looked, and it didn't feel like Bubbles really appreciated what her muscles were capable of. Perhaps that would change once she had been sent flying toward the hard floor below.

“Gyah!” Faheema bellowed from the exertion, muscles aching and bones straining as she hoisted her opponent's full weight up until the woman was upside down. After holding her there for a moment, Faheema tilted backwards and released her opponent to eject her clumsily from the ring. Her entire body ached from the effort, but hearing her opponent crash into the concrete would make her feel better.

Bubbles was hurting, groggy, and her mind was awash with the pain coming from her butt, which had became significantly more tan than the rest of her body. She was racing, trying to think of ways to turn this around, but they all involved her getting back on her feet and working from there. Faheema wasn’t nearly dumb enough to just let that happen.

She could see the kick coming, but she was in no position to do much more than tense up and prepare for it, letting it crash into her abs and double her over. In the next instant, she found her head tucked under Faheema’s arm for a DDT.

Or what Bubbles had assumed was a DDT. Mariah assumed it, too. In fact, it was safe to say that everyone in the arena and watching on the TV assumed about the same thing. Even as Faheema backed to the ropes, it seemed like the only move at her disposal. Maybe her position was on accident. Maybe she’d realize it and correct her mistake.

Thousand upon thousands of eyes widened when, instead, Faheema draped Bubbles’ adjacent arm over her shoulder, and none of them were any wider than the two Americans’. That was the clear, unmistakeable, trademark setup for a suplex. Faheema - who looked like she weighed around 160 pounds, maybe 170 - was going to suplex Bubbles - who had at least seventy pounds of solid weight on her.

”No way.”
”No way.”

Yes way. In a supreme act of power that Bubbles would never forget if she lived a thousand years, Faheema lifted her clean off the mat with a might heavy and sent her flying out of the ring, doing unto Bubbles as Bubbles had done unto countless wrestlers over the year. She screamed as she flew over the ropes and just barely got her arms up in time to cover her head, keeping it from smacking directly on the apron as she fell. She tumbled all the way down and wound up landing flat on her back with a resonating THUD, leaving her laying there with her eyes and mouth open in sheer disbelief. She hadn’t even properly registered the pain yet, as if her body was too busy making sure she wasn’t hallucinating all of this.

The crowd, of course, went wild.

Faheema took a deep breath and sank to her knees for a moment, blinking languidly. Everyone in the arena was surprised that Faheema had been capable of tossing her opponent...even Faheema herself. Decades of grueling labor had produced an extraordinary set of muscles, but this was a new record for the heaviest object that Faheema had ever moved with her bare hands. Lifting the giant had left her tired and sore, but she wouldn't call her choice a Pyrrhic victory, not when the result had been Bubbles falling several meters to the hard floor below.

Lying down on the canvas, Faheema rolled under the bottom rope to exit the ring, landing on her feet with a thud. As she approached her fallen enemy, the wheels in Faheema's mind began to turn. Just how rough would she need to get to defeat her opponent? In a normal fight, her instinct right now would be to go all in with a devastating soccer kick to her opponent's head, but that level of violence couldn't be countenanced here. The need for the loser to be in good condition for her 24 hour prison sentence meant that Faheema needed to measure her strikes carefully, something that she wasn't used to doing.

Maybe she could still target Bubbles' head, though, and make use of the concrete that it was currently lying on. Taking advantage of her opponent's dazed state, Faheema tried to mount her chest, straddling her and staring down at her beautiful quarry. Each hand went down to grab handfuls of hair on opposite sides of Bubbles' head, a nice, firm grip. Smiling with sadistic lust, Faheema pulled her opponent's head a foot or so off of the ground, then slammed it back down into the concrete. Then she tried to do it again...and again...and again!

Oh. Oh. There was the pain.

Bubbles hissed as the shock faded and her body began to register what Faheema had actually done to it. It wasn’t so much the fall itself that sucked - it was a long way down, but she would’ve been tough enough to take that on its lonesome and get up fast. The problem was that it compounded every other ache in her body. All the damage that Faheema had done now felt two times as worse, and until that faded, she wasn’t going to be doing much movement beyond twitching and blinking.

”Bubbles!” Mariah rounded the corner and stopped short of going over to help her, hanging back three feet as she looked down on her wife. There was genuine panic on her face, something Bubbles rarely saw - while this was hardly the first time Bubbles had been hurt, it was hard to remember a time her straights had been so dire.

”Yeah…” She raised one-hand and gave Mariah a thumbs-up, trying to put her mind at ease with a smile. ”Just taking a little rest. Give me-”

Her comforting words were ended when she saw Faheema approaching in the corner of her eyes, moving in for the kill. Bubbles started to make an effort out of sitting up, but that was canceled when the Nubian took a seat on her breasts and mashed her back into the floor. Bubbles was helpless, laid out, completely at Faheema’s mercy, and it didn’t seem like her fierce opponent had much to go around.

The hands gripped her hair, her head was lifted up, she saw that sinister smile and knew exactly what was coming. Not that knowing would help her one bit.

BAM!

A rough impact, one that left Bubbles seeing stars.

BAM!

Again, and maybe her skull had a fracture.

BAM!

Again, and she was sure of the fracture now, along with more stars.

Stubborn to the end, Bubbles refused to lose consciousness, holding on until Faheema decided to stop. If Faheema decided to stop.

There Mariah was again, near enough that Faheema could read her worried expression. Was she thinking of putting herself between Faheema and her prey? Surely, she wasn't that foolish, but she was getting suspiciously close to the action. Didn't she know how dangerous that was?

Regardless of her intent, Faheema couldn't tolerate Mariah's decision to linger so close to the warring women. Too often in Egypt, Faheema had faced off against a single attacker, only to be ambushed from behind by allies of her opponent when it became clear that he couldn't triumph by himself. Those injustices had left a scar on her mind, and her ingrained instinct to preempt such attacks was too strong to ignore. She couldn't attack Mariah directly, but there were other ways to make her regret her proximity.

Faheema stood over Bubbles and grabbed an arm to start pulling her back up. The assistance would be short-lived, because as soon as Bubbles was back on two shaky feet, she was going to pull on that arm with everything she had to send her opponent running. There were so many nearby objects for Faheema to whip her into. The apron to her back, and the concrete divider to her front, were both appropriate targets.

Neither of these objects would be the target of Faheema's rage. Instead, she turned herself and Bubbles sideways, pulled with all her might, and hurled Bubbles into a run. Incidentally, poor Mariah was standing straight in the path that Faheema had whipped Bubbles into. What a terrible coincidence! If only Mariah had exorcised some sense and stayed out of harm's way.

If only.

Mariah was far from a mind reader and wasn’t the best when it came to reading people she didn’t know - particularly when they were possible crazy people. So she didn’t have any concrete proof that Faheema was about to do something to her. But as the Nubian rose off of Bubbles and started to pull her up, something about the look in her eye gave her pause. That - combined with the rather overt threats that this woman had made her way since they’d met - was enough to make her start taking a few hesitant steps away.

Bubbles, for her part, was currently too out of it to even realize that Mariah was still nearby. It was no easy task for Faheema to get her back on her feet, with the Virgin Killer falling back to her knees twice in the process, but eventually she did get up on two wobbly feet. Still dazed, she could feel Faheema starting to pull her for an Irish Whip, and she was about to resign herself to it…

...until she saw Mariah right in the way of harm, and it all clicked. She was trying to make them slam into it each other. She was trying to hurt her wife.

Bubbles was an upbeat person by default, and there was precious few things she couldn’t put up with. One of them, the main one, was hurting or trying to hurt Mariah. She could forgive Faheema in the long run, understanding that she didn’t know either of them too well and that she might get mixed signals, maybe going off of previous experiences with cheating valets. But, short term, that wouldn’t stand. If for nothing else, she had to send a message to everyone in the locker room: Mariah Burste was off limits.

When Faheema pulled her back, Bubbles slammed her feet down, leaned back and stopped the effort cold, as rage ran through her and gave her a second wind. The warmth fled her face as she glared hard at Faheema.

”No.”

With an abrupt turn, Bubbles twisted about and pulled Faheema towards her instead, spinning around sending her running hard into the steel steps with all the force she could muster.

She didn't know it yet, but Faheema would look back with shame on the decision she had just made. Mariah was an ally of Bubbles, but that didn't excuse the unjustifiable decision to throw her own wife at her. Nobody watching this fight would be fooled into thinking it was an accident, and none of them would look upon it favorably. Certainly not Bubbles herself, who had the foresight to know what was coming, and put a stop to it.

Picking Bubbles up earlier had been like lifting a boulder, but when Faheema tried to make her run, it was like trying to move a mountain. She didn't take a single step, meeting Faheema's blank stare and stunned silence with a look of menace that shouldn't have been possible for those charming, clear blue eyes of hers. To Faheema, it was as confusing as it was unnerving. Where had this woman, this cheerful ditz who had probably never known a day of hunger in her life, gained the resolve to bounce back from pain and exhaustion so completely?

Faheema pondered these questions as she continued to struggle, pulling the Virgin Killer's arm like she wanted to rip it off at the shoulder. When that didn't work, Faheema tried to let go and disengage, but Bubbles quickly reciprocated her embrace to prevent an escape, holding her arm tight. Using her own strategy against her, Bubbles pulled Faheema off her balance and sent her flying toward the steel steps. Unable to stop or even slow her forward momentum, Faheema crashed into the unforgiving metal at full speed.

“AHHHH!” Faheema wailed as her body exploded with pain. One step caught her ribs, while a lower one tore into her shin, leaving both sites in crippling pain. Her chest burned, and her leg wasn't responding, no matter how desperately Faheema willed it to move. Coughing in an effort to catch her breath, Faheema stubbornly attempted to pull herself up from the steps, even as lingering shocks tore through her flesh and bone.

To see the looks on the crowd’s faces, you would’ve thought that Bubbles had risen from the dead, and that wasn’t too far from the truth. Faheema had done an exceptional job of beating her up, hammering her more thoroughly and decidedly than any other foe she’d encountered. Every movement seemed to make her aware of some new pain that she hadn’t even realized what there before, her breath was full of hisses and grunts, and there was a noticeable limp in her step, thanks to the abuse Faheema had inflicted on it with those chopping kicks of her.

She was hurting, and she was fully aware of it. But rage was a great anesthetic, and she had enough to push through it for the moment. Hopefully, she had enough to finish the match, too.

Mariah stepped back even further, knowing well enough to not be in Bubbles way when she had that look in her eyes. Her gaze was full of focused fury as she came up behind Faheema, and for a moment she thought her wife was going to smash her foe’s face into the steps - a brutal, un-Bubbles like thing to do.

That wasn’t what happened. Instead, she walked around Faheema, confusing the audience for all of two seconds, before she grabbed one of the chairs near the announcer’s table. Then her intentions became clearer than crystal. ”Bubbles…” Mariah opened her mouth with a hesitant word, not even sure what she was about to say after that, not even sure if the words reached Bubbles’ ear. She never took her eyes off of Faheema, not for a single second, never showed any signs that her thoughts were on anything other than making a point and using her opponent’s body to do so.

She came at Faheem from behind, approaching her as she crawled up the steps. Her first move was to raise her foot up and bring it down hard on the back of the Nubian’s ankle, stomping it into the bottom step and pinning there. A strange move, but the purpose was obvious in retrospect: she was pinning Faheema down for what came next.

Bubbles folded the chair, lifted it above her head, and then swung it down with a  large, boisterous roar. She didn’t target Faheema’s head or her back or her arm - instead, she slammed the harsh metal into those taut buttocks, choosing the chair like a makeshift paddle. It was small payback for the spanking she’d taken earlier, but until they took Faheema home and had the chance to do it properly, it would do.

A pallor swept over Faheema's face when the sound of her opponent's footsteps reached her ears. Fate had turned against her so quickly that it made her sick to think about. The timing was no coincidence, either; Bubbles had been empowered by her desire to protect the woman she loved. How inspiring. How cute.

How infuriating.

Nothing shook Faheema's psyche more than being reminded of the sort of love that had always been off limits to her. It was a glimpse into a life that Faheema wanted for herself, and that avarice, that jealousy, eclipsed the pain that racked her body, and brought back her will to fight. Sadly, while both women possessed the desire to carry on, Bubbles was the one now stomping toward Faheema with a metal chair. No matter how hard she tried, Faheema couldn't drag herself off of her uncomfortable resting place on the steps, not before her tormentor arrived to exact vengeance.

“Gnh,” Faheema winced as Bubbles stomped her ankle into the steps, bending the joint at such an awkward angle that any further movement might risk lasting damage to it. Trembling, Faheema lied motionless even as her mind raced for an escape. She couldn't twist around to get a glimpse of what Bubbles was planning, so the woman's sinister intentions remained hidden until her opponent swung the chair down with all the strength she could muster...

“Aaaahahahahaa!” Faheema cried as the cold metal struck her backside – a pitiful, wavering scream that her lungs barely had the oxygen to sustain. The full force of the blow rippled through her entire body, producing aches far from the point of impact. Her pelvis felt like it had been crushed in a vice, and it took every ounce of concentration in her not to spasm as a result, still fearing for her trapped ankle.

To everyone's surprise, however, Faheema didn't take the hit lying down...metaphorically speaking, anyway. Acting to free herself, Faheema hooked the white boot keeping her ankle pinned with her free leg, and then pulled it sideways to force Bubbles to step off of her. Right now, all she sought was the freedom to roll off of the steps, lacking the energy to do anything else.

This was a critical point in the match for Faheema, the point where she realized how dangerous her current situation was. Ordinarily, when Faheema fell upon such dire straits, her instincts would possess her to flee, to cut her losses and save herself. As a Friction fighter, however, it was her job to fight until her body or her spirit were broken, and Faheema's spirit always outlasted her body.

When the two women next locked eyes with one another, Bubbles would find the Nubian's face strangely devoid of fear or sorrow. The look of grim determination, the one Faheema had been wearing for most of the fight, was still there, and if she was at all aware of just how desperate her situation had become, she wasn't showing it.