The War: Bianca "Bubbles" Burste vs. Femke "Golden" Brouwer

Darya noticed Mariah's arousal, just by the subtle clues in the way she moved, and maybe a tiny, subconscious whiff of it in the air. After the way they had intertwined themselves, after sharing some of their intimate thoughts on love and life and, of course, the action in the ring, Darya felt like reading Mariah was actually very easy, and she expected the American manager felt the same way about reading her. Darya watched that hand reach up to find its owner's tit, fondling it briefly before it encircled Darya and pulled her close, their foreheads touching as they conspired together.

Darya, without a second thought, reached out with her own hand and ran it over Mariah's breast, top to bottom, then up again, gently pinching her nipple through the remnants of her dress, not getting aggressive, not being rough at all, but hoping that she could satisfy Mariah's arousal in this small way. As far as Mariah's request went...Darya smiled and leaned in even closer, her lips brushing Mariah's as she spoke. "Vin or lose, I vill do it to you. I von't tell you when, and I'll catch you at midnight and take you to a secret place...and it vill be all day. Tventy-four hours of vicious, beautiful fucking. And I just ask..."

She took a breath, and gave Mariah a very soft kiss, looking at her with one big eye. "...I just vant you to do ze same to me. Fuck me all day, vhen I do not expect it, fuck me hard until I scream and scream. I believe...our lives are intertwined now...you and I...Femke and Bubbles...all four of us, together...you are right. Our fucking vill be legendary. For ze first time on planet Earth, four women like us vill all be together, and the whole vorld vill change."

Meanwhile, in the ring, Femke had managed to get onto her hands and knees, and when she managed to lift her head up she noted that Bubbles had, as well. She could not help but grin watching her rival come to life again, slowly rising up, just the same as she was. They were both exhausted. They were both injured, and they were getting to the point where this match would finally be decided. Three orgasms and enough concussive force to literally kill a lesser woman was going to slow even two twin goddesses down. But they were not done yet. There was yet more pain to inflict on each other.

"Fine...I will have to make it up to you, though," Femke would say, as she slowly clambered up onto her feet. [color:f673=#"When we're done...I'm kissing it and making it all better, okay? In fact..." She cracked her knuckles as she stood straight upright, staring into her opponent's baby blues and, just like Bubbles, seeing herself reflected in them. [color=#dd8e38]"I'll kiss every single bruise I leave on you. So let's make a few more."

With both of them prepared, Femke lunged forward and swung a right hook right at Bubbles's face—and, of course, Bubbles lashed out with just the same attack, the two fists passing by each other in midair, Femke still grinning even as Bubbles's fist smashed into her cheek and sent spittle laced with blood flyingg from her open mouth. It hurt like hell, and hopefully her punch hurt Bubbles, too, but Femke didn't slow down, following it up with an underhand left hook aimed at the underside of her opponent's huge, perfect tits!

Darya wasn’t a liar. Mariah Had a good sense about this sort of thing, as a frequent liar herself, and she could tell that Darya wasn’t the type to do it - when she spoke, she said the truth. At least, when it came to sex.

So, when she told Mariah what she intended to do and when she intended to do it and how she intended it to be done, she believed that was what she was going to do. Every word of it. Truthfully, it didn’t even really matter if she remembered to do it, in the end - the mere thought was enough to stir her loins. As if that wasn’t enough - and it truly was - Darya brought that had into action, that same lovely hand which had been doing so much amazing work, and used it work away at her aching breast, soothing it with a soft touch. It was good, too good. It made her ache for sex, and not just what they’d been having and doing, but what they’d been talking about. It was Thanksgiving, mother was in the kitchen with a fine meal, the smell was filling the house, and she was so hungry…

She wanted to say many things in response, to tell Darya all the insidious plans that were running through her mind, but she decided to just let the wild gleam in her eye do all the talking on that front. ”You’ll never see me coming.”

It was nice, tender, sweet moment. So was the one in the ring, really, though you would be hard pressed to know it at a glance. Bubbles lashed out with her best punch, a raging right hook that had been to knock weak women out cold. But Femke wasn’t weak. She was anything but that, and she had similar designs, as Bubbles discovered when she saw a mirror image of her own blow head straight for her face.

It hit. Oh, did it hit. Bubbles opened her mouth for a scream that never came out as she staggered back. That one definitely left her rattled, and by all rights she should’ve fallen...but she didn’t. She stayed straight, planted her feet hard, brought her fist low, and came at Femke’s - delicious, amazing, gorgeous - breast with a left hook…

...just as Femke did the same.

It went in deep, slicing through Bubbles’ tit and sent her squawking to the side. She would’ve fallen out of the ring if not for the ropes, but instead she wound up leaning against them, gripping tight for support. Even through that, she still managed a good smile. ”What spot do you want to kiss next?”

Darya and Mariah had reached a point where words really weren't necessary to describe the feelings which were enveloping them. Darya recognized that, and she wasn't disappointed by the short, concise confirmation of Mariah's intent to follow through on Darya's wishes. She most certainly could read the gleam in Mariah's eyes, and with her own good eye she shone back with contentment, and affection, knowing that the two of them were going to have quite the beautiful relationship, built on trust enough to surrender every mote of control to the other, when the time was right. The fact that two such scheming, calculating individuals could not only find each other, but build that trust so quickly rather than ripping each other to shreds, was indescribably exquisite.

Their wives, too, seemed to be falling in love, in a way, in the ring, as they beat each other into twin pulps. Every move from one was countered by the other, every punch seeming to sail right by its twin on the way to its target. Femke and Bubbles were wild, and crazy, and their relationship was beautiful in a manner all its own, in a way that forced Darya to smile and giggle as she watched. She gave Mariah one more kiss, then gently nudged their cheeks together, turning them both to face the ring.

"It's almost time..." she whispered. "Let's vatch Femke finish your vonderful voman off..."

CRACK! The twin right hooks smashed into identical swarthy cheeks, rattling jaw bones and leaving blood in their mouths. Femke's head snapped to the side, and she staggered to the side a couple of steps, but that didn't stop her left hook—and there was nothing that was going to stop Bubbles's, either, as that punch drilled upwards through her tit, pounding through soft breast flesh, forcing Femke's prized orb to mold around it as that fist drove nearly right up into her heart.

Physically, it didn't get that far. But Bubbles had already penetrated Femke's heart emotionally, in a way which was only positive, and set up there.

Femke let out a loud bark of pain and stumbled to the side, away from Bubbles, all the way to the ropes, the two of them falling onto opposite sides of the ring. Femke grabbed the ropes in a death grip in one hand, and her other hand massaged that tit, feeling it throb at her touch, feeling the warmth of a fresh new purple bruise quickly spreading across its underside. It hung slightly out of her skimpy attire, nipple popped out of its leather cage, bulging against the swimwear, seemingly about to rip that attire apart. Everything hurt. She could feel her heartbeat pounding in her head. But she still had a big smile on her face as she looked across the ring at Bubbles, and heard her doppelganger's question.

"I think I have an idea," Femke would reply across the ring, raising an eyebrow a little bit as she looked Bubbles up and down. "God, I love you right now, Bubbles."

With that, Femke launched herself forward, flying across the ring at Bubbles, bending her body down as she rushed forward, going low...aiming to make the next spot she'd be obligated to kiss Bubbles's pussy, as Femke made a feint with her arm, and then tried to drive her knee powerfully right up into her new friend's perfect crotch!

Could you fall in love twice? That was the question that kept making its way up from the back of Mariah’s mind.

For sure, the thing between Mariah and Darya and Femke and Bubbles was born of lust. They wanted each others bodies, wanted to fuck like mad, and there was nothing wrong about that from her perspective. That had been there from the first moment they collectively met. But there was no denying that it had evolved as this match - if such a simple word could be used to describe this anymore - went on. These weren’t women she wanted to have one-night-stands with, or even call up for the occasional wild booty call. Mariah could easily see a future where Darya and Femke were regular parts of her life.

Lofty thoughts. Thoughts for later, perhaps. For now, Mariah gleefully accepted Darya’s kiss and turned with her to watch the ongoing tribute to sex and violence unfolding in the ring. ”I’m ready.” She nuzzled against Darya’s check, playfully pushing. ”Ready to watch Bubbles’ most glorious victory yet.”

While even she couldn’t lie and say that Bubbles’ victory was 100% assured, the ‘glorious’ part went without question. Bubbles and Femke once more found themselves hurtling towards each other, launching from separate sides of the ring, and the Virgin Killer already knew what was coming her way. She knew how much it would hurt, what it would do, that it would almost certainly have her screaming, but she went forward anywhere. It was like the two of them were magnetized, and no force in the universe could keep them apart.

The referee had the good sense to stay far and to the side as the twin titans came rushing towards each, and they met smack dab in the middle of the ring. Femke’s knee rushed upwards as Bubbles’ brought her leg up to do the same, sacrificing both their bodies at once in an insane display of devotion.

Bubbles didn’t know how Femke reacted to it, but if she took it the same way she did, the picture was clear enough to paint: sheer, unrelenting agony. She let out of a feral scream and collapsed to the floor, shrieking with the kind of volume that you didn’t typically hear outside of emergency rooms.

And smiling.

It was a hoarse, ragged, ugly kind of smile, but a smile all the same, as she laid on her side with her hands in between her legs, massaging her aching pussy. As much as it ached, as much as she’d be feeling the pain later, she didn’t regret it. ”The feeling’s mutual.” She grunted and brought one hand out, planting it on the floor in a sloppy attempt to rise. ”Shame I can’t think of a way to do that with our asses. Maybe just agree to kiss those, regardless?”

This was going to be a long-term entanglement, Darya knew, between herself and Femke and Mariah and Bubbles. In fact, barring some incredibly jarring revelation, she would not be surprised if the four of them would be enjoying each other's company for the rest of their lives. It was more than a mere friendship, of course. There was physical attraction between any combination of them, and there was an emotional attraction there, too. Maybe it wasn't the same as the love between one woman and her wife, but it was not far off, and it was not hard to see why. For Darya and Mariah, and even moreso for Femke and Bubbles, each woman found a counterpart, a fellow traveler, a foil who could practically read her mind—in the case of the latter pair, one whose physical appearance, too, was all but identical. Knowing that someone out there shared just one's same values and interests, knowing that you could spend time with them and both be certain of one another's contentment, was a very powerful force.

Darya felt the pushback from Mariah and giggled like a schoolgirl, responding with some competitive nuzzling of her own, their cheeks squishing together, brown and black hair twirling around in wispy shared tangles as they both turned to watch the end of this amazing match. "Glorious..." Darya whispered, as if tasting the word on her lips. "Yes...so glorious..."

And the battle for that glory was only getting better. Femke launched herself off the ropes, hurtling across the ring, as she saw her mirror image approaching her in the same way, at the same speed. Femke could not stop grinning. Maybe she was telegraphing her attacks. But how could she stop that? Bubbles and her thought alike. Bubbles could read her like a book, to be sure, no matter how much Femke struggled to obfuscate her plans, so why bother? She could read Bubbles, too, and she knew that, yet again, they were on a collision course towards mutual, blissful agony.

Knees collided with crotches. Even tempered steel would not have stopped them from devastating each other's hot, wet cooches in the insane cross-counter. Femke felt her knee burying itself up into Bubbles's groin, seemingly stabbing up into her stomach, and for an instant she could feel the surge of adrenaline and the thrill of landing such a hit before the desperate cries of the pain receptors in her own cunt registered in her brain, her lips pulled back into a strange union of a smile and a dead woman's glare, and she screamed, screamed so loud the sound waves shook the ring, as her hands shot down to her crotch and her legs gave out. She collapsed onto her side with a boom, massaging herself, making plaintive whimpering sounds in between manic, crazed giggles of excitement.

"Fuck...you're so strong, Bubbles, I just can't...can't take how perfect this is..." Femke would groan, clenching her teeth afterward as she endured a terrible surge of pain which she worked at vigorously with her fingers, slowly massaging it down into a dull roar of devastation. Her eyes, watering, watched Bubbles as she turned slightly and began to rise with adoration, and Femke, quickly, matched Bubbles's progressing, putting one palm down on the canvas, breathing deeply, preparing herself for an attempt to push onto her feet.

"Oh, we definitely will be kissing each other's asses. Not only that, but I need to get my hands on it...and I want to hump it until both our lower bodies fall off!"

That was both the smartest and dumbest thing Bubbles had ever done, she decided.

She was convinced that taking a sledgehammer to her cunt would’ve been easier than Femke’s never. The blow didn’t just crash into her most sensitive part, but felt like it went upwards, splitting her straight down the middle. Something was broken, she was sure of it. It might not show for a while, she might not get the real pain until a week or so later, but it would be coming, and she would probably be spending some time in a hospital bed for it, too. One with a male nurse, most likely. Ugh.

Her loins were on fire, and not in the typical way she’d use that metaphor. It was a dull, throbbing pain, and it was only a small part of what she was feeling over, as her entire body cried out for rest. From the sidelines, Mariah found herself wincing as she watched, like the pain was her own. In a way, it was. How many countless hours had she spent clinging to that body, kissing it, loving it, fucking it? She was so familiar with every inch that she could find them with her fingers in the dark, like the keys of a piano.

When Bubbles was in pain, she was in true pain. Mariah squirmed and crossed her legs, hissing as she empathized far harder than she wanted. She was a wrestler once, after all, so she knew the pain that could come a regular knee. She didn’t dare imagine how bad it felt from  Femke, a woman with more muscle in her legs than most humans had all over.

As glorious as this was, Mariah couldn’t deny the little worry in her gut, the desire for this all to be over. Femke and her wife had broken themselves, beaten each other beyond the limits that any sane mortal would go. The final clash was coming, and the only way this could was in fireworks - but who’d be standing when the smoke cleared.

Bubbles was ready to find out. Right now.

She chuckled at Femke’s response, loving the way this woman thought - partly because the same thought had been working its way through her head, too. ”I don’t think that’s physically possible, honey bun.” Bubbles gave the mat one more, definitive push, then rose straight up. Straight-ish, at least. ”But I look forward to trying.”

Up. Ready. Bubbles started to stumble, her leg threatening to buckle beneath her increasingly ponderous weight, but she rallied her reserves and maintained the stance. Just a little more. It would all be over soon.

A deep breath. Eyes focused forward. Clenched fists. A nod.

Bubbles charged forward in one, final assault, throwing everything into a mad dash. The ring shook with every thunderous step, oil splashed this way and that, and Bubbles bellowed with an amazon’s war cry as she closed in. She drew her right arm back at the right moment, then threw it forward in a massive haymake aimed that the center of Femke’s skull.

If this didn’t put her down, she deserved to win. Hell, even if it did, the same could be said.

Darya was getting worried. Of course seeing her wife take a hit that hard, especially right in her most precious place, would alarm her no matter what. That was her property, after all, and if it got damaged and she couldn't use it for a while, she was going to be angry. But now, more than that, she was worried that the two mighty women in the ring might actually put each other in the hospital, tonight.

Obviously, their health was the most important thing here. Thankfully, they were both tanks, with bodies made out of steel, or maybe out of diamonds, which had already taken damage enough to kill probably anybody on the AFW roster but the two of them. But Femke had a breaking point. Darya knew that from experience. And Bubbles must have one, as well. They were only human. If they had to go to the hospital, Darya would drive the both of them there herself if she had to. And maybe it was selfish to think of how such a visit would inevitably delay or even completely supersede the sexy time they had had planned for tonight. But...she couldn't help it. It crossed her mind, and now, as she watched them both try to rise, there was a voice in the corner of her head which was just crying out for the both of them to stay down!

They wouldn't. Femke would not let it end until she had wrung every last ounce of euphoria out of this moment. Of course, it would have been perfectly climactic had one been able to rise while the other stayed down after those twin knees crushed their cunts. The match could have ended ten minutes earlier and still been considered one for the ages. Femke could have been proud of any number of endings already. But she could not let this end before it absolutely had to. She could not deprive herself of the exhilaration, the pure adrenaline, the erotic thrill of battling with Bubbles for the very first time! She would look back on this fight for the rest of her life. She would let it go for as long as she could stand, for as long as she could think straight!

"The people who wrote the book on what's physically possible...they never met you, sugar muffin!" Femke would reply, as she shoved herself onto her feet, wobbling and swaying, her head ringing. Balance didn't come easy, but it came, and, though she hunched slightly, she was upright, and ready to continue the war. Ready to finish it, if she had to.

She took a deep breath in, tilted her head back, trembled slightly. Then she opened her eyes, stared forward, right at Bubbles, and clenched her fists. She saw that nod. She nodded back at Bubbles.

And then, Femke surged forward. Half sprinting, half sliding across the oil, sending droplets flying, she put every ounce of leg power she could into the charge, limbs pumping, slamming into the ring surface, making it shudder and shake together with Bubbles, the whole construct creaking and groaning as bolts threatened to pop loose and cause it to collapse. It held together, if only barely, as the two titanesses throttled into their next collision. Femke pulled her right arm back, cocking her fist, yelling as she came within range and swung her fist right into the center of Bubbles's skull, as she saw, then felt, Bubbles's fist mirror hers perfectly.

It might have bashed right through her face and out the back of her head, judging by the pain. Femke hollered hoarsely like a gutted elephant, as her vision blacked out and her whole body went numb. She felt like she was swimming in a sea of pain, black, hot oil underneath, a searing red sky above, as she collapsed backwards into the oil with another big splash, limbs falling limply to her sides, spread-eagled again by Bubbles's punch, her lights, clearly, punched totally out.

Darya screamed in sympathetic agony. The crowd roared. And, deep within the recesses of Femke's seemingly comatose body, a little voice was still stirring, still begging... I think...we can wring just a little more out of this...

Mariah had never been more exhilarated, scared, excited, terrified, aroused, amazed and stunned in her entire life. She had been in the business for decades now, had seen so much and personally experienced more than that, but nothing came close to what she witnessed now.

Some might have thought that she was callous, because she so rarely seemed concerned for her wife’s well being, but that couldn’t have been further from the truth. Mariah wanted Bubbles healthy and happy, would never want her in a match that could shorten her career. There would come a day when they’d both have to step away from the ring, but she wanted that day to be as far off as conceivably possible.

That was the fear that settled in as she watched Femke and Bubbles hurtle towards each other. It was like watching the woman she loved in the agonizing moment before a car wreck, knowing there would be so much pain in a moment with no way to stop it.

She couldn’t conceal a shriek as the titans clashed for one, final time, filling the arena with the sickening sound of bone and flesh ramming into each other at top speed. The world seemed to slow as they toppled, grinding to halt, as if to drag the agony out as long as possible. The two hit the mat as one, creating twin splashes on impact, and then...nothing. No movement. No sounds. Nothing, save for the pitter-patter of Mariah’s bare feet as she ran to the apron and screamed into the ring ”Bianca!”

Bubbles heard her - or thought she did, anyway. It was heard to tell over the cacophony of screams and cheers all around them. She couldn’t move much at all, little more than a few twitches and some light squirming. Even opening her eyes seemed to take real effort, and she only did it when she heard one voice, closer than the others, saying something in single syllables.

”3!”

Counting.

The rules. The two of them had been going so hard and for so long and had never faltered through it all, so much so that Bubbles had actually forgotten what it took to win this match. If she could get to her feet before Femke did, then she could still emerge victorious over her rival. If she could get up. Far easier said than done.

She tried. Hard. Started to raise her head up, then her chest, a little higher, a little more...but her body gave up and down she came, plopping into the oil with a thick splash. Desperate, panting, she laid back down and took in deep gulps of air, just trying to stay conscious.

The only other time one of Femke's matches had ever even approached this level of intensity, this high risk of actual harm, was the last matchup between the Dutch powerhouse and her future wife. At that time, all Darya was interested in was causing as much pain, as much harm to Femke as she possibly could. She had absolutely no idea what the future would hold for them, and nowadays, looking back at that time in her life felt like peering into someone else's memories for the Russian manager.

So this was the first time she had ever had to truly, genuinely worry about Femke. She had had some tough matches. A few impacts had made Darya wince, and once or twice they had even gotten a shout out of her. But it had never been like this before, and upon the occasion of this most recent, perhaps final, exchange of blows, she, like Mariah, felt a new wave of concern, of fear rock her, rock her with metaphorical force the same as tangible physical force had rocked her wife. The two women in the ring crashed down into the oil, letting the warm liquid spray in all directions, and then...nothing. Mariah dashed forward to the ring apron, calling out her wife's name. Darya followed her friend, wrapping her arms around Mariah, pressing close together with her towards the ring, their nearly-naked bodies slumping towards their fallen spouses.

"Femke...!"

The voices of the women at ringside echoed like ghosts in Femke's ears, which at times heard nothing, and then, a second later, would be hypersensitive, hearing the tide of oil washing up against her body. There was a dull roar far in the background, the roar of the crowd, which at one moment was little more than a ringing, then the next was gone altogether, before the moment after that it pierced through Femke's dazed state, sometimes all at once, sometimes just one voice her brain latched onto, pounding into her throbbing, spinning skull.

And luckily for her, one particular voice pierced her skull at just the right moment. "Three! Four!"

Femke's eyes opened like rusty, dented garage doors, catching halfway up, beginning to close, fluttering, jerking open again. She winced at the bright light. Slowly, with a low, rumbling groan of agony, Femke rolled over onto her stomach, trying to push up. She got a hand underneath her, pushed, and it immediately slipped, her body so weak it could not gain even the tiniest bit of traction in the oil. She decided to try to prop herself up with her elbows, instead, and managed to stay up like that for a few seconds, panting, her head hanging, her lower body limp, chest heaving, every inch of her trembling. And then, she collapsed again, with an undignified sound, splashing oil all over again as she sucked in air desperately, fighting off the creep of unconsciousness.

”They’re okay, Darya.” Mariah kept repeating those words over and over like they were a mantra, as if speaking the words multiple times ensured that it would come into reality. ”They’re going to be okay.”

In truth, she was saying it to convince herself just as much as she was Darya, if not moreso. Her wife was half-conscious, covering in bruises, struggling about on a canvas, attempting to force her body to do something it clearly had no interest in doing. In no way, shape, or form was she ‘okay’. She was a living, breathing train wreck, and it took everything in Mariah to keep herself from storming the ring. In the end, the only thing that stayed her hand was the knowledge that Bubbles wouldn’t have wanted her to - the two of them had agreed from the moment they started working together that she would never, ever directly interfere in a match.

For the moment it was all on Bubbles. The Virgin Killer laid on her side, weakly rolling over to it after another failed attempt to rise. Her body remained stubborn, denying every attempt she made, keeping her cruelly ground. It felt as if she were chained to the floor, and every attempt to break free just exerted more precious energy. Could she do it?

”Seven! Eight!”

Maybe that wasn’t the important question, though. Did she even want to get up. She and Femke had fought so hard, given everything they had to give. There was no shame here. As she rolled her head to the side, she saw Darya and Mariah together, the two of them dressed in tattered clothes, and she made the connection instantly - they’d had their own little competition on the sidelines, it seemed. All four of them had bonded in their own way, formed a unique, unspoken pact, and now it was time for them to reap the rewards of their efforts.

Enough fighting. She was done. With a soft smile, Bubbles closed her eyes and let the darkness take her.