Of Like Minds

They were close to the destination now, even if Nadya didn't seem to recognize it. There was no way she could’ve known where they were supposed to be going, in all fairness, and she wasn’t in a mood to ask, far more interested in kicking Anesthesia’s cunt to ask her a simple question. Such a pleasant woman, this was.

The building wasn’t as big as it might’ve looked on the outside, and she came upon the door soon enough, with Helen standing on the outside to mark it. She had just finished up with the preparation from the look of things, and her eyes widened when she caught sight of the two battling women, as Nadya dragged her employer through the hall like a piece of trash.

Hardly a fit sight, and one that Anesthesia realized she needed to change as soon as possible.

While her sex was still a burning, fiery mess from all the pain she’d endured, she did her best to soldier through it, channeling the rage into something far more beneficial and productive. With Nadya still holding onto her legs, the Dark Nightingale attempted to spin about, twisting on the floor to rip her legs free as she turned to her back. From there, she kicked out hard and tried to shoot her heels into Nadya’s stomach, attempting to send her into the nearest wall. It wouldn’t do much damage even if it did work, she realized, but it was a chance she was willing to take at this point.

Nadya almost felt smug about how this fight was going. She knew that she couldn't get overconfident, or the hideous cow who was currently under her control would find a way to make her pay for it. She had to give Anesthesia that much—she was not completely useless in a fight. Nadya was better, of course, having fought into such a position where she could tame the whore with a swift kick to the cunt whenever she started to get rowdy.

But that wasn't why she felt a little bit smug. She felt smug because no matter what else happened, no matter whether she finished Anesthesia off or the "doctor" pulled some sort of trick, no matter if Nadya walked out of this clinic or not...Helen and all of those other pathetic little worker bees saw their boss dragged through the hall as if she was just a piece of garbage, her tits wiping up all of the dirt and debris on the floor, making her just that much more repulsive. Those sniveling little women would never look at Anesthesia the same way again. Nadya had already made sure of that, and as their audience followed them and Helen joined the enraptured throng with wide eyes, Nadya would move to drag Anesthesia into the room that Helen had prepared and see what inside could be utilized to ruin this woman's life.

Anesthesia suddenly turned in her grasp, wrenching around, her leg twisting to face the other way in Nadya's hands. The Russian growled and was about to kick Anesthesia's cunt again...when the "doctor" lashed out at her, her heels slamming into Nadya's taut abs, throwing her hard into the wall right next to the open door. "Uorgh!" the Russian yelped, as her hands slipped from Anesthesia and she stumbled upon rebounded off the wall. It didn't hurt too much—a sharp pain in her gut, which would dull soon enough, and just sort of a vague pain in her back from the impact—but now Anesthesia was free, and Nadya didn't want to let her turn the tide. The Russian swung her leg, again, not aiming for her foe's cunt this time, but hoping to nail her in her calf to slow her down.

Relief. That would be the single most prominent word that came to Anesthesia’s mind after she’d managed to get herself free of Nadya’s retched grasp. However much she was coming to dislike this woman’s attitude, she had to admit an odd fondness for her ferocity - she might not have been a real wrestler, but she was a natural fighter, making up for her lack of skill with base instinct. It was almost a shame that she wouldn’t get to mold it, to shape it, to control that raw rage and hone it into something more refined.

A loss, but one she would accept. Especially since she was exchanging it for the chance to give Nadya the beating she so clearly was begging for.

She rolled around as Nadya came her way and drew her leg back, looking to land another one of her heinous kicks and giving Anesthesia no time to move out of the way. So, instead, she tried a counter, looking to bring her wrestling acumen back into the equation.

She her legs out, both of them, to scissor Nadya’s ankle, then rolled hard to the side as she came around for the kick, attempting to her flailing and falling to the floor with a drop toehold.

Nadya never liked to cede control. She had never allowed anyone else to dictate what her business was in life, she had never allowed anyone else to be on top in bed, and she was not going to let Anesthesia think that she could just transform her into one of these spayed little servants who were gathered around watching their struggle. Some part of her, of course, almost felt like with the right arrangement, working with the "doctor" would not be the worst thing in the world, and at the very least Nadya would be able to go back to something resembling her old life.

But her old life was crap, and Nadya knew better than to trust an ugly whore like Anesthesia when the woman said she would have free reign with only a couple of minor conditions. It was pathetic, really. Everything about this situation was pathetic and utterly despicable.

Of course, the status of the fight was amplifying Nadya's more negative thoughts, and so she couldn't help but be fuming when the bitch on the ground in front of her, rather than just taking the kick like a real woman, suddenly shot her legs upward and wrapped them around Nadya's ankle. With her leg stretched out forward like that, Nadya had no way of stopping Anesthesia as the whore dragged her downward, twisting her leg painfully in the process—it felt for a second like it might pop out of its socket, and Nadya's harsh shriek echoed through the room as she was dragged down, arms flailing to try to catch herself on the floor, other leg lashing out to try to kick Anesthesia to oblivion, though the attacks were wild and without a true target.

"Fucking pus-spewing cunt!!"

Nadya was an unrefined ore. Tough, crude, but with so much potential that Anesthesia couldn’t help but lament the way things had turned out of her favor. So strong and fierce, so wild and powerful - as they two of them laid on the floor, she had to take the briefest of moments to stare at this writhing beast, dreaming about what could’ve been.

It was a fleeting feeling. Anesthesia had only just brought Nadya to the floor when her opponent started thrashing about, giving her no way to capitalize on the momentary advantage. She took a fierce kick in the gut, one that made following up on the attack impossible. She would have to settle for a more mundane option. Wanting to put some space between them for a moment, Anesthesia rolled away from Nadya and stumbled her way back up to her feet, nearly falling back down again halfway through the attempt. When she was on two good feet, she made her way into the nearby room and beckoning Nadya to follow her inside.

The ‘playroom’ was everything Anesthesia had alluded to earlier - a sparring ring, first and foremost, with all sorts of toys adoring the burgundy walls, and a dim, red light to illuminate it all. There were the more traditional tools, the floggers, the whips, the paddles, mainstays of any worthwhile dungeon. Ropes of varying lengths and styles, enough to truss up any struggling woman. Strap-ons were in the far back of the room, neatly hung and waiting for someone to come along and make the best use of them.

Anesthesia slid her bare feet along the carpet, letting the plush fibers tickle her soles. A small comfort, but one she’d readily accept in this moment.

Nadya wasn't getting mopey like the bitch she was fighting. She was totally motivated by her rage right now—rage at Anesthesia, at the world, and at herself. She did not intend to let the woman get the better of her down on the floor like this, and her foot slammed hard into Anesthesia's gut, giving off a satisfying thump as it shoved the bitch "doctor" away. Nadya was ready for a counterattack, some effort to try to assert control by the woman so she wouldn't look quite so pathetic in front of all her underlings. But instead, Anesthesia went with the momentum of Nadya's kick, rolling away across the floor and climbing back onto her feet. Nadya followed the woman with her eyes, never looking away as she, too, would flip over onto her front and then push up from her knees onto her feet, wobbling a bit as she did, but steadying herself before too long.

She was tempted to leap after Anesthesia right away—fall on her back like a jungle predator, tear into her with claws and teeth until she was nothing but bloody ribbons. But, as Anesthesia made her way from the doorway into the room proper, something held Nadya back.

"Something"—she supposed she just was curious about how well-stocked this "playroom" would actually be. So she held off, for the moment, as she followed her enemy into the room, eyes darting along the racks and shelves of toys and devices and then quickly back to Anesthesia's back, making sure the woman didn't turn and try anything while Nadya was inspecting the equipment. She slid onto the carpet shortly after her brown-haired foe, the soft feeling on the soles of her feet seeming in stark contrast to the rest of the room. Nadya would make her way over to one of the walls, giving the toys a closer inspection, her face stoic as her eyes scanned across the racks of weapons and, less excitingly, pleasure-inducing implements. Of course, she wouldn't go more than a second without glancing back in Anesthesia's direction.

"So vhat now, whore?" Nadya spat, running her hand along a medium-length bullwhip as her eyes would focus in on her foe once again.

Come inside. Breath. Let the moment consume you. Calm. Calm. Calm.

Fighting Nadya had been a trying experience thus far, one that was infinitely more distressing than Anesthesia had anticipated. They had only been going for a little while, but already she was suffering through the torment. Her battered nethers, her aching sides, her wilting chest. Anesthesia’s skin had been pristine when this day started, smoothed out through a long, sensuous bath, but Nadya had ruined that in record time - her body was pockmarked with scratches and cuts, marred perfection, and they had only just begun.

But now things were better. Now they were on turf that suited her sensibilities. Now she could begin to show this upjumped welp how far the gap between the two of them truly was.

As Nadya went to the bullwhip, Anesthesia went towards a favorite tool of hers, lifting a cattle prod off the wall. She gave it a few clicks, letting the electricity dance around the tip, before she once again feasted on her foe’s nude form. Such a waste, this.

”Now?” Despite the pain and displeasure, that drew a laugh from Anesthesia all the same. ”Now we hold hands and hug it out. What do you think happens, you little twit?” It was good to let some of the charm rest. No sense in hiding the venom anymore. “Hm?”

There was something immensely satisfying watching Anesthesia limp around with that formerly flawless skin covered in scratches and deep purple bruises. The look the woman had given Nadya when she saw the way the nurse's flesh was marred and scarred from years behind bars, and years more before that of living dangerously...now other women may look upon her the same way, if Nadya could ensure that some of those scratches and scrapes became permanent fixtures on the old hag's hide. That would make it all even more satisfying.

Of course, the empty pit in Nadya's soul would never be filled by paltry things such as that. Small victories in a battle like this did nothing to actually make her feel good. This whole fight was just generally stressful for Nadya, exhausting her emotionally as she found more and more hate bundled up inside her chest to spit out in fiery chunks at the "doctor." Now, as she picked up the whip and gave it a couple of practice cracks, and Anesthesia let that cattle prod crackle, Nadya wondered whether this fight would cripple one or both of them for life—or worse.

Would it be a bad thing? Why should she worry, really...?

Nadya sighed as she regarded the doctor with her cold, empty gaze. She at least managed a smirk when Anesthesia responded to her rhetorical question with such a smug, oblivious little jab. "Oh, fuck you, cunt," Nadya spat back at her, as she slid her hands along the whip in her hands. "I vonder vhether you actually thought it vas a good idea to bring me here. I vonder if you could have said anything that vould not have made me hate you. You think you could have fucked this up less and ve vould be holding hands and hugging now, huh?"

Ah, Nadya was just as rude and boisterous as ever. Good. Anesthesia had almost thought the Russian had lost the energy to spout her usual venom, but no, she was as acidic as ever, eager to throw curses her way, the hatred in her voice on full display. It would make snuffing her flame out all the more satisfying. Not easier.

She couldn’t help but notice the way she wielded the whip, however, and it gave her a modicum of pause. It wasn’t the most complex weapon, but few knew how to truly use it, could really make use of its range. Was Nadya one such type? She had guessed the woman was more into using her body to inflict harm, that she would shy away from such implements, but perhaps she’d underestimated how worldly the woman truly was.

There was one way to be sure, she supposed, as she began to inch forward with careful steps. Nothing sudden. Nothing dramatic. She moved on the balls of her feet as she worked her way over, mindful of Nadya’s range, wanting to stay just outside. Closer and closer, step by step, until…

With a feral growl, she charged forward, a jungle cat on the hunt, pouncing at her prey. She moved in long, bold strides, attempting to lunge out and jab Nadya in the stomach with her prod, wanting to get as much skin contact as possible.

She hoped it stung. She hoped it burned.

Hatred boiled and churned in Nadya's stomach. Hatred for Anesthesia, first and foremost, obviously, because the woman was a sniveling, pathetic worm with delusions of grandeur that were some of the most ridiculous hallucinations Nadya had ever had experience with, and she was speaking from a long career in medicine. Hatred for herself, too, obviously, the sort of hatred which let her take risks, which let her spit profanities at a woman holding a cattle prod, aiming it right at Nadya's stomach. Nadya hated herself enough to risk all of that pain just in the hope of seeing true, deeply emotional pain on her opponent's face.

In the instant that the cattle prod made contact with her flesh and sent a white-hot flash of electric agony through Nadya's torso, the thought bubbled up into her brain: would it even be possible for two sociable, friendly women to do the sorts of things that Anesthesia had wanted to recruit Nadya for? Was there really any way that women who were willing to act like that would be able to tolerate each other's existence?

That thought disappeared within seconds as Nadya focused on destroying Anesthesia mind, body, and soul. She had swung the whip when the woman lunged at her, and missed, as the "doctor" got too close, too fast. She would use it for another purpose, now, even as a harsh-looking red mark appeared just up and to the right of her belly button: she would swing the whip around, trying to lash the back of her neck lightly, but her main goal was not even to use the whip as a whip. Grabbing the tip, she would try to wrap the cord around Anesthesia's neck, then yank hard to the side, trying to slide herself around and get behind her foe, so that she could begin choking the bitch to death with the whip, pulling it tighter and tighter around her neck, and throwing a few knees into her nether regions, hopefully for good measure!