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

The battle grew quiet. The crowd, which had kept up a near-constant roar ever since the two warriors first entered the arena, now hushed up as the battle was reaching the first of its many, many climaxes. The soft, meaty smack of Bubbles's rear end colliding with Femke's crotch echoed throughout the arena. The moans of both women were very audible, even in the uppermost decks of seating. And while she wasn't sure how many others could hear it, Darya was certain...certain that she could feel the wet, squeaky sliding of Femke's fingers inside of Bubbles's dripping sex.

She had enough pictures. She lowered her phone, closed her eyes and just drank in the sounds of the battle. Flesh slapping. Fingers...gliding. Women moaning in the most profound state of pleasure they had ever experienced in the ring. "Mmmmmmmmmmm."

Femke, having come to resemble her wife over three years together, would also close her eyes when the time came. Up to that point, she had them open, wide open, in an almost manic, wide-eyed look as she buried her face in Bubbles's shoulder, staring into the side of her opponent's face, waiting to see that last telltale twitch which showed that Bubbles was about to lose control. The woman had held out admirably, but in the end there was no way either of them would resist the other's wiles for long. Bubbles tensed up, and didn't untense, and Femke just held on for dear life, hand with a death grip on Bubbles's tit as she pasted herself to the American's strong, chiseled back. As her opponent came, soaking her fingers and clouding the oil beneath her, Femke felt the convulsions which wracked the woman's body, moaning loudly along with her fellow amazon until the orgasm ended.

"Yes...good girl...there is plenty more where that came from..." Femke purred. It was almost easy, but one orgasm did not make a victory any more than one suplex had made one for Bubbles. Femke's hand now hovered above Bubbles's sex, and she was about to put it to work again.

When that skull slammed hard into her face, and everything went ash-blonde for a moment.

Her hands fell away from Bubbles as she, temporarily stunned, let out a cry of shock, an almost betrayed noise, as she fell backward, back slapping into the oil, sending droplets flying everywhere as she was suddenly flattened and, for the moment, very much defenseless!

”First one to you.”

Mariah sighed with a tinge of disappointment - but only a tinge. While she would’ve loved for Bubbles to be the first one to come out on top in this exchange, it was hard to be mad at such a display as that.

No, most of her sigh was filled with tone of longing. It was hard to watch Bubbles, sometimes, difficult to witness and not be a part of such a display, like a drug she was being denied, and that was doubly so tonight. There was a growing warmth between her legs, one that would need some release, and it didn’t look like the wet warriors would be finished anytime soon.

She did have some ideas on how to take care of it, though. A temporary fix that her newly found friendly rival could help with.

”I wonder...” With her eyes still facing forward, she started to run her hand up Darya’s thigh, going higher and higher, until it disappeared underneath the shadows. ”...are you enjoying this as much as I am?”

As she took care of her problem, Bubbles was dealing with a far more pressing one - namely, what to do about the insanely hot, oil-covered doppleganger that was in the process of finger fucking her into oblivion. The move she came up with was a little dirty, she wouldn’t lie, but they’d taken away all the rules for a reason. This was a war, no part of their bodies was off-limits, no move was forbidden. If the positions had been switched - and they might very well be before they were through - she wouldn’t have expected any less.

Either way, the opening was made, and she was taking advantage of it. She spun about on Femke’s lap, giving her one more harsh grind with her ass before she stood back up. Bubbles didn’t stand up empty handed, though - as she went, she tucked Femke’s ankles under her arms and clamped down on them with all the force she could muster, lifting her fellow behemoth blonde’s legs into the air.

With as secure a grip as she could hope for, Bubbles fell backward and lifted Femke into the air as she went, attempted to send her flying into the air with a slingshot - one that would likely have her come for wet, harsh landing right on her tits. It was a common wrestling move, but one that Femke had likely never had done on her before, since she’d yet to meet anyone with the combination of weight and strength to pull it off.

Until now.

Darya chuckled and brought a hand up, ticking off a point on an imaginary scoreboard with one finger, marking her wife's victory in achieving the first forced orgasm of this epic duel. A little celebration of a victory which she felt she had played a small—okay, very small—part in. In any case, it was one which she could lord over Mariah for as long as it took Bubbles to even the score...which might not be long at all, so the Russian would have to get started right now.

"First point...next to ze last, ze most important," Darya would intone. "Ve vill see how Bubbles attempts to come back from zis."

Though she talked a big talk, she knew that the American was not going to go away after one orgasm. Neither would she be defeated nor would she be weakened enough for Femke to simply go to town on her without resistance. This was still a war. And as the action in the ring heated up, so, too, did the action outside of it, as Darya felt a hand grab her thigh, then begin to travel higher, and higher...

Darya kept her eyes forward, too, but she would sigh and relax, slumping a little bit in her seat, allowing a slightly easier route deeper between her legs for Mariah. "Do you need to ask?" she would murmur back, as her own hand gently rubbed Mariah's knee, fondly but chastely. She would not keep her actions chaste for long...

Femke was shocked by the reverse-headbutt, but she didn't fault Bubbles for it in the slightest. Without rules, this match was going to get rough. There were going to be bruises, and likely some blood. Bubbles had to do what she had to do to win, and so did Femke, who would not hesitate to do the exact same thing to her foe if the opportunity presented itself.

Right now, what was presented was Femke, on a silver platter. Bubbles lifted herself up—after one last delicious grind which made Femke's toes curl—with Femke's legs in tow. Femke was expecting a crab, or maybe some sort of leglock...

...and she got another throw. Her eyes widened, then, as she flipped forward and saw the oil hurtling towards her from below, she squeezed them shut. She tried to throw her arms out, but it was no use, and she hit the oil hard, spraying it everywhere, showering Bubbles and the front row of the crowd with it. The landing was almost cataclysmic, rattling Femke's whole body, sending shocks of real pain through it. But she was in awe...in awe of the woman who could do that to her.

She tried to move, and felt like molasses trying to run uphill... "Uuurkk...that was...incredible..."

Mariah purred, a low, throaty hum, and it wasn't just from the splendid display happening in, as Bubbles sent Femke flying once more. Leave it to her wife to make a big scene and get people rushing for their camera phones, fumbling their spare hands. What made it all truly exciting was knowing that Bubbles was still revving up, cashing in all the energy she’d stored while Femke fucked her silly. With a decade of experience under her belt, she was sure to cash all that energy in with some interesting effects.

As Bubbles went to work, though, Mariah took some personal time to deal with her own smaller battle, continuing the game that she and Darya had begun in the skybox, a back and forth battle she hoped would never end.

”Nope.” She flatly answered the Russian’s rhetorical question, as she felt those legs open wide and welcome her hand into the shadows. ”But I’m a lady. A lady always asks.” Like a vampire, she entered when invited and started to slide her fingers under Darya’s panties - if she had any - lightly teasing away at her pussy.

At the same time, the goings-on in the ring were anything but light. Golden was open with a golden opportunity, and it was one that Bubbles was all too eager to seize. Her first instinct was to go for the Boston Crab, but she nixed that - Femke deserved something better, more exotic, more impressive than a move that got used in just about every other women’s wrestling match. Only the best.

That was when she had a better idea. A much better idea.

”You just wait.” As Femke reeled, Bubbles made her way over to the her rival’s side and planted one foot on the other side of her body, while she kneeled down and pushed her knee against the Amazon’s spine. At the same time, she reached over and grabbed Femke’s leg, using both hands to lift that tree trunk up, attempting to wrap it around the back of her neck and put her foe into one of the most debilitating holds in her arsenal: the Stretch Muffler. With one hand on Femke’s thigh and the other holding her by the ankle, it was a secure move, even with the oil working against her grip.

And, with just about any move she did, it had some interesting options. But she wanted to make sure it was secure before she thought about having fun with it.

Femke had been thrown twice. It was incredibly to experience the power of a woman who, for all intents and purposes, was her equal, but why was she letting Bubbles have all the fun launching her around the ring? Damn it, she's going to think that I can't throw her unless I do it soon... Femke thought, grumbling after she landed hard on her front. Her face had smacked into the oil, and she was lucky she hadn't gotten any in her eyes. As it was, she had the taste of it in her mouth...it was pretty awful, expect for the faintest hint of something very sweet, which called to mind the squirting Bubbles had done earlier...

Her brain wasn't focusing on the match. That was not a good sign. She was dazed, and while she knew she would recover, it seemed as though it would not be in time to stop whatever Bubbles had planned for her next.

Darya, meanwhile, was getting into some trouble of her own, as she spread her legs a little wider and invited Mariah's hand inside. The brunette wasted little time, and she would find out Darya was wearing absolutely nothing underneath her cocktail dress soon enough, as those fingers reached Darya's soaking-wet pussy, making the Russian moan, her lower lip quivering at the touch. She was not going to let Mariah have all the fun, of course. The hand that she had on the American woman's knee began to slide upward, caressing her inner thigh, giving it a pinch, then sliding further upward still, slipping inside her dress and deciding to check what sort of underwear she was wearing.

Femke was open, and she hadn't time to even brace herself before Bubbles was at her side, crossing one foot over her body to put a foot down on the opposite flank of the Dutch woman, then kneeling down to plant her knee in Femke's spine, shoving it hard downward, making her hiss and groan as she felt the sparks of pain shooting through her spine and across the rest of her body. But Femke knew that her foe was not done. She clenched her teeth, trying to get herself ready as she felt hands on her leg. She tried to kick, but found her sturdy limb locked tight in Bubbles's grasp...

And then, found it wrapped around the back of Bubbles's neck. Femke cried out, pounding a fist on the tarp in frustration as she tried to lash out with her other leg! "UUUURGH!"

Darya would find that she and Mariah were wearing the exact same thing underneath the dress - that was to say, absolutely nothing. It was almost as if the two of them thought something like this would happen at one point, and didn’t want to provide any hindrances that would stand in the way of their shared pleasure...that was Mariah’s idea, anyway. She had no way of knowing what Darya had been thinking, but she wouldn’t have been surprised to learn they had the same idea. Great minds thought alike.

”There we are.” She cooed as her fingers circled Darya’s pussy and traced invisible circles, almost as if they were marking their territory, staking a claim before they really dived in. A little teasing. They had plenty of time, no reason to make it a rush.

It was soft, subtle play. Completely opposite to what was going on in the ring and what was about to be going on.

Bubbles hadn’t chosen this move out of pure coincidence. The Stretch Muffler was a strong hold, one that was worthy of being a finisher. This match couldn’t be ended by submission - not that Femke would’ve given up, anyway - but that wasn’t the point. It was dealing damage, giving her foe an ache in her leg that would hound her for the rest of the match. Fighting in oil was hard. Fighting with a limp in oil? Doubly so. She stayed vigilant, bobbing out of the way when Femke's leg swung her way, but the awkward angle worked in her favor - as long as she kept her eyes out, she was okay.

But there was a secondary reason for the choice, one that Bubbles demonstrated when she slid her hand down Femke’s thigh, lower and lower and lower still. It meant easing up on the pressure a bit, taking some bite out of the hold and forcing her other arm to do more work. But the tradeoff was a good one, one that she knew ‘Golden’ would approve of.

With an impish grin, Bubbles ran her fingers over Femke’s sex, sliding over the slit and watching her reactions, seeing how the mix of pain and pleasure affected her before she plowed forward.

Darya was thinking along much the same lines as Mariah, both assuming that something like this might happen during the match and figuring she might as well be prepared for the occasion, and wondering whether the same sorts of thoughts were running through her new American friend's mind. She would have to bet that they were. Femke and Bubbles were incredibly similar women, from temperament to strength to skin tone and hair coloration. Darya and Mariah might have little in common in the color categories, but their minds worked in very similar ways. They had to, seeing as how they had fallen in love with and married two virtual mirror copies.

Darya would let Mariah's hand venture into her unknown depths first, fingers twirling around her womanhood, gently stroking her pussy lips without actually entering, forming a circle, a target which gradually diminished as that hand obviously prepared to enter. But it didn't go all the way, no, not yet. And Darya would follow that lead, as her hand slipped up into the space between Mariah's thighs, feeling the warmth emanating from her wonderful sex. Darya had been wanting to touch Mariah like this ever since they laid eyes on each other in the skybox, and now she had her chance, smiling fondly at the brunette as she put together her index and middle fingers and began tracing Mariah's pussy lips, going around one upward, then downward along the next...circles and circles, teasing the woman, doing little more.

It was a delightful little game they played, one which was getting Darya very wet indeed. Mariah's fingertips were probably getting a little moisture on them, now, but the Russian made no effort to hide her arousal. She tipped her head back and moaned, loudly, voice breaking slightly, rewarding Mariah's efforts with that sweet sexual song. She almost closed her eyes, but of course one thing kept them open: the action in the ring.

Femke was being turned into a pretzel, upper body plastered into the oily canvas, breasts swimming in the warm liquid, the big orbs making squeaking noises on the tarp every time the Dutch woman moved a muscle. Or when she was moved by her foe. Bubbles yanked harder on her leg, and Femke let out a growl through clenched teeth, slamming her fist into the oil again, sending droplets spraying. She tried kicking, thrashed about with her arms, but the weight of the woman on the small of her back was tough to remove.

The ache in her leg lessened slightly. She managed to catch her breath, sucking in a deep swallow of oxygen as she prepared for a big push to unseat Bubbles.

But, of course, the woman's hand would find her sex. Femke's whole body would tremble as those fingers rubbed across her slit, her fingers all splaying out from the fists which had held them, then clenching again, as she wiggled her body, booty jiggling slightly for Bubbles's viewing pleasure as she tried to fight against the powerful woman seated atop her before she was made to cum...!

The Stretch Muffler was a good hold, one that Bubbles was getting full use of at the moment, one that could’ve certainly gotten a submission from most of the women she tried it one. Brutal. Painful. Effective. Bubbles’ strength used it to full effect, and she knew it would pay dividends through the match, giving Femke pain that would follow her with every step.

But it was not without a drawback, and a glaring one at that: It was damn hard to maintain. It wouldn’t have been so much of a problem with a normal woman, but Femke was far from the norm. Far from being a lightweight, keeping her body in check was taking a serious effort, one that Bubbles couldn’t hope to sustain forever. She would have to let go, eventually.

But not before she got that orgasm. Not before.

Mariah’s thought were of a similar vein, as she and Darya worked to give each pleasure. It was a small thing, but she took the Russian’s moans as a victory, loving the way she moaned at her touch and leaned back and struggled to keep her eyes open. Not that she wasn’t showing her own signs of arousal, as the wetness between her legs grew and ran down the fingers of her invader. Though there was little reason to be covert, now that she thought about it. There were few, if any, eyes looking their way. In fact, she and Darya could’ve been fucking outright, going at it right on the commentator’s desk, and she doubted the crowd would’ve give them two thoughts.

A tempting thought, but she held off on it.

”So, tell me-” Before she could finish what she was about to say, Darya’s fingers force a surprise gasp out of her, as her circling hit a particularly sensitive spot near the top of her slit. She had to take a moment before she could finish the thought.

”Tell me…” Wanting to be the one to pull ahead in their little race, she started to dip her fingers into Mariah’s sex and trace along the folds - still slow, but steadily increasing the pace. ”How did you and Femke meet?”

It wasn’t a random thought, not totally. As Femke thrashed and squirmed under Bubbles grasp, she and her wife shared the same thought: where had this woman come from? What was her story? The difference was, of course, that Bubbles wasn’t in a position to ask, as she hunkered down on the hold and redoubled her efforts, more determined than ever to get that climax and even the score. With the hold threatening to come apart at any moment, she skipped past the teasing and went for the jugular, sliding three fingers into Femke’s slippery slit and diving deep...only to pull out, gauge her reactions, and plunge again.

Femke was a big woman, muscled, well-curved, and the stretch muffler Bubbles was applying did require being able to maintain quite a bit of control over the captured wrestler. Femke just had so much in terms of weaponry that it was difficult for a woman to wrap her arms around it. If anyone could do it, of course, it was Bubbles. And right now, Femke was not thinking about escaping this hold because Bubbles couldn't maintain it. She wasn't even thinking about escaping the hold through some sort of dynamic move, at least not in the very front of her mind.

Right now, escape was not foremost in her thoughts. As Bubbles's fingers traced her slit, playing with her, teasing her, the soaking-wet Dutch woman could only think about her growing excitement, and an orgasm a long time in coming—far, far too long—that was about to finally wash over her.

The European still strained against her doppelganger, shoving, twisting, thrusting, but everything she did seemed to make her pussy meet those fingers with more vigor. Her womanhood kept falling towards that black hole of pleasure, born upon gravitational waves of infatuation, of wonder, of raw magnetism.

Darya knew that she had given Mariah quite the reaction to those fingers, and that the American was going to try to take those moans, that sultry look on Darya's face, and take those straight to the orgasmic bank, get a little bit more bragging rights in the game the two managers played with each other. But Darya's fingers were at work, too, only a few seconds behind their counterparts, and when she was able to interrupt Mariah's train of thought, eliciting that little gasp, she knew she was still very much in this race. Darya noted the location, and made the next circle of her rival's sex quickly, finding that spot again, with a little extra pressure...before dipping her fingers into that sex, pushing them between those lips slowly, doing a little exploring, tracing Mariah's folds as she felt the same thing happening down there for her. "Mmmm...vell, zat is a...very, very long story," she began, her breath catching at the end of the sentence as she felt a tender spot touched.

"But I can paint you a quick picture..."

"Fuck! Oh, fuck me!" Femke shrieked, as those fingers plunged as deep as they could into her sex. Her eyes bulged and her back arched, which only caused tremendous pain in this hold. She shrieked for the pain, too. Bubbles's fingers pulled out, and Femke slumped down, panting heavily. She couldn't resist any longer. She couldn't resist Bubbles, the mere image of whom had made her cum so many times. She...

The fingers entered her again, and she shrieked louder still, a sound of wild, unfiltered pleasure, shaking her head and clutching for something with her arms, finding little purchase as her body convulsed, her hips bucked, and her orgasm came flooding out of her in a powerful stream!

These fingers between her legs were well-traveled, Mariah could tell. Granted, she’d have to be singularly dense to think that Darya was a stranger to sex, but what interested her more was thinking about exactly where these fingers had been before, what they’d been doing, whom they’d been doing it to. How many times had they plunged into the same pussy that Bubbles was plumbing right now? How deep into Femke’s vast body had they explored?

She’d seen enough to know that Darya and her ravaging wife had a heated rivalry in the ring, one that often ended in a canvas splattered with the evidence of their arousal...but what happened when the lights went off? In private? She supposed she would learn firsthand soon enough, one way or the other. But until then, there was no harm in a slight preview of what was to come. ”I’d say…”

Mariah gasped again, as Darya fingers slipped between her folds, taking the lead in their little sideshow race.

”Naughty.” She chuckled and stepped up her own efforts, experimenting with that tender spot. “We have time, wouldn’t you agree?”

Mariah was taking a softer, gentler approach to her rival, but Bubbles had time for none of that, as she brutally fucked - and there was no better word for it than that - Femke was reckless abandon. She was determined to catch up with her rival, even as the feelings from her own orgasm still ran through her body. If anything, those feelings drove her faster - she would never admit it aloud, but a small part of her was looking forward to the next time Femke got the better of her. The small, submissive, rarely sated part.

Not that she would make it easy for her rival to get there. Her larger, dominant self relished in the moment, too, as she finally wrang an orgasm out of Femke and left her spurting and spilling over the canvas.  She dropped the hold immediately, letting the golden warrior splash on the mat, and turned around as she took the spoils of wars into her mouth, enjoying the taste where all could see. Bubbles’ tongue ran around her fingers and slurped up every drop, all with a lewd smile.

To the audience, it seemed she was playing up the moment and enjoying her triumph, however brief it certainly was...and that was true. But Bubbles was also taking a moment to let her other arm rest. It had done all the work in maintaining the Stretch Muffler, and supporting Femke’s thrashing form had taken its toll, pushing it to the limits. She would need to bring the pace down a bit before she started going wild once more.

Not that she intended to spend that time totally ignoring Femke. It just meant that she would have to hold back, rely on moves that didn’t require her to support over two-hundred points of oily, thrashing weight.

”Don’t think I’ve ever tasted Dutch before. Didn’t know what I was missing.” She licked her lips as she turned Femke’s way and proudly sauntered towards her with a cocky swing of the hips. ”Maybe I’ll have a second helping.”