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General Discussion about Catfights / Re: wife vs her sister
« Last post by Horny-Jew on Today at 10:40:11 PM »Sometimes. Especially if someone's wife and sister are as hot as you, Andyshade 
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Pro Wrestling / Stacy Keibler: Texas Cheerleader Massacre
« Last post by E-ratic_Demon on Today at 10:00:52 PM »The cheerleader uniform wasn’t Stacy’s idea, but she had to admit it was an inspired choice. She caught a glimpse of herself on the Titantron out of the corner of her eye and couldn’t help but admire how it complimented her alluring figure. She had the audience eating out of the palm of her hand. As she frolicked down the entrance ramp, she could feel their eyes on her, every one of them ogling and drooling over her scantily clad body.
Prior to joining the WWE, Stacy had been an NFL cheerleader, and while the Cowboys weren’t her team of choice, it only made sense for her to wear the blue and white uniform, since Raw was live from Dallas tonight.
She strutted up the metal ring stairs and onto the apron, where she stepped through the middle and top ropes as only she could, bending over seductively, her ass pointing outward, lingering there for a moment, while the crowd leered over every inch of her. The cameraman made sure to zoom up her mini-skirt, catching a glimpse of her crisp white cotton panties.
Stacy finished her entrance and marched to the center of the ring where she twirled about, shaking her blue and white pom-poms to the rhythm of her signature entrance theme. She flashed her million dollar smile, projecting a combination of girl-next-door wholesomeness and movie star sex appeal.
She was a vision.
The fans adored her. The cameras drank her in, beaming her angelic visage to the millions of viewers watching at home. She put her years of experience as a Nitro Girl to good use, allowing her body to move seductively in time to the music, gyrating her lithe, dancer’s body, and kicking her impossibly long legs into the air. She spun around, giving the crowd another peek at her panties as her skirt twirled above her waist.
It felt as if everything was going her way. She thought that nothing could go wrong.
But then the music stopped. The lights went out.
A hush fell over the audience. Stacy ceased her choreographed dance routine and looked around, slightly miffed. She knew that this was a live television show and that the occasional production hiccup was to be expected, but the timing of the power outage irritated her. Her hands, still clutching her pom-poms, went to her hips and she waited for the lights to come back up.
After a moment, they did.
Standing across the ring from her was Domina de la Morte. The audiences stunned silence turned to a loud roar.
Stacy froze in place, her brow furrowed in a deep look of concern. Domina had appeared months ago on the SmackDown brand, cutting a swath through the women’s division, laying waste to every Diva that stood in her way with her patented piledrivers, before disappearing suddenly without a trace. Since Stacy was on the Raw brand, she had assumed she was safe from Domina’s brutality.
Now, here she was, looking intently at Stacy with a sick, demented smile stretched across her face.
Domina stood over six feet, four inches tall. She was clad in black leather pants and a matching bustier. She wore heavy Doc Martens on her feet and black studded fingerless gauntlets on her hands that completed her gothic Valkyrie warrior look. A shock of long, teased black hair framed her face, her eyes smeared with dark eyeliner and her mouth coated with deep purple lipstick.
Stacy had always been one of the taller Divas in the WWE, but she felt small in comparison to Domina.
Domina appeared ready for war. Stacy felt silly in comparison, dressed only in her midriff baring top and matching skirt that barely covered her underwear. Her white leather boots were more for style, not battle. She felt exposed and vulnerable. Helpless.
It seemed as though the temperature had dropped in only a matter of seconds. A chill ran down her spine and she shivered uncontrollably. She could feel her nipples harden beneath her flimsy top. She wanted to cover up, but all she had were her ridiculous pom-poms.
Her mouth went dry. She licked her soft pillowy lips and she tried to swallow in order to restore some of the moisture.
She thought about running, but before she could do anything--
Domina delivered a swift, thunderous boot to Stacy’s stomach, knocking the wind out of her body. She doubled over in pain, dropping her pom-poms and clutching her belly.
Stacy felt Domina’s massive hands grab her golden blonde hair and shove her head between the larger woman’s powerful, tree-trunk like thighs, locking her in place like a vice.
“No!” screamed Stacy. “Let me go! Stop!”
Domina grabbed the back of Stacy’s string bikini panties and wedgied them up sadistically in between the diva’s smooth, toned butt cheeks, creating a thong-like effect. Stacy let out a high-pitched squeal as she felt the fabric dig into her backside.
“Oh, God!” cried Stacy. “Someone, help me!”
Domina only laughed at the blonde’s pathetic pleas. She wrapped her muscular arms around Stacy’s svelte torso and lifted her body into a vertical position, her legs pointing straight up into the air. Stacy’s mini-skirt fell victim to gravity and draped downward, revealing her skimpy white panties in full.
“Please!” shrieked Stacy. “Put me down! Let me--”
But her cries were interrupted as Domina dropped backwards into a sitting position, spiking the crown of Stacy’s head violently into the mat, delivering a vicious piledriver.
Stacy’s body collapsed clumsily into a heap, her long limbs splayed in all directions. She lay there, unmoving.
The crowd erupted in cheers. As much as they loved Stacy, they loved to see her punished even more.
Domina rose to her feet and stood over the fallen diva, looking down on her with utter contempt.
“How dare this frivolous bimbo step into the same ring as me?” thought Domina. “This is an arena for warriors, and this tart dares to come down here, dressed like...this?”
Seeing Stacy lay there in her disheveled cheerleader outfit, panties exposed, looking so helpless and weak, only enraged Domina even further. She grabbed a hold of the diva’s right leg and undid the zipper of her boot, aggressively pulling the shiny white leather off of her foot, then casting it aside. She let the leg fall back down to the mat, then grabbed the left leg and did the same.
Stacy’s long, smooth legs were left completely bare. She began to stir, her head lolling weakly from side to side, moaning softly.
Domina reached down and grabbed a fistful of Stacy’s hair. Stacy let out a startled yelp as Domina dragged her limp body across the ring to the ropes. The young blonde tried to resist but her adversary was too powerful.
Domina forced Stacy up onto her knees, then pilloried her upper body over the middle rope.
Domina climbed through the ropes and onto the ring apron, then pulled the diva out of the ring so that they both stood on the narrow border. This was generally considered the most dangerous and unforgiving section of the ring.
Stacy was on shaky legs and thought she might fall, but before she could worry about that, Domina drove her left knee viciously into the willowy blonde’s stomach.
Once again, Stacy doubled over in pain, clutching her belly, trying to catch her wind. Domina grabbed her by her ears and shoved her head downward and between her thighs, locking her into a familiar position.
Stacy panicked, knowing that another piledriver would be disastrous. She swung wildly in desperation at the larger woman’s torso but her fists had no effect. Domina laughed cruelly at the futility of the blows as they bounced off of her thick, muscular body. She reached down and hooked Stacy’s arms, then grabbed the back of her thighs, lifting her up off of the mat and tucking her body into an upside down ball-like shape, setting her up for a package piledriver.
“No!” begged Stacy. “Stop it!”
But her pleas fell on deaf ears, as Domina dropped back into a sitting position once more, slamming the back of Stacy’s head and neck onto the unyielding ring apron.
Upon impact, Stacy’s body uncoiled like a spring. Her head bounced off of the perimeter and her body fell gracelessly to the outside of the ring, where she landed hard on the floor, her arms and legs positioned awkwardly at different angles. She looked like the victim of a horrific car accident. Her blue and white skirt rode up high on her waist, her white panties again on full display.
The crowd let out a cacophonous roar. They cheered for Domina as though she were a hero. She ignored them, not caring if they approved or not. Their opinions were irrelevant to her. She had work to do.
She dropped down to the floor, then reached down and grabbed Stacy by the throat. The diva’s body was completely limp, like a broken and discarded doll. Domina had no trouble pulling her back to her feet.
Stacy’s legs were like jell-o. She stumbled about, only remaining upright due to the firm grasp Domina had around her neck. Her head ached as though a bomb had gone off inside of her skull.
Domina motioned to a nearby cameraman. He zoomed in on Stacy’s face. The beautiful blonde could barely open her eyes.
“Get a good look at the American Barbie doll!” she sneered, her accented voice dripping with venom and disdain. “Is this what you call a wrestler? She can’t even stand on her two feet! Pathetic!”
Domina throttled Stacy with both hands, squeezing her slender neck and shaking her lifeless body back and forth. Stacy clawed and scratched at the madwoman’s hands, trying to get her to relinquish her forceful grip.
Domina released her stranglehold. With her right hand, she grabbed Stacy’s crotch and scooped her up, cradling her body horizontally, manhandling the innocent blonde like she was a toy.
Stacy felt her sense of gravity disappear as she was lifted into the air. Domina held her firmly. She could feel the giant woman’s long, bony fingers as they gripped her by the pussy. She squirmed, trying to free herself but her opponent was too strong.
Domina glared into the camera lens, a look of evil intent on her face. She ran toward the ring post and rammed Stacy’s body spine-first into the unforgiving piece of steel.
Stacy let out a bloodcurdling scream, her face contorted in an expression of anguish and torture. Domina threw Stacy to the mat. She landed hard with a loud THUMP.
Stacy howled in agony. She rolled over onto her side, reaching her arm around to her back. She sobbed loudly, tears streaming down her beautiful, pain-stricken face. She could not understand why this was happening to her. What had she done to deserve such cruelty? Why wasn’t anyone coming to help her?
The crowd continued cheering for Domina. Their bloodlust knew no bounds.
The barbarian queen went over to the timekeeper’s table and grabbed a folded steel chair, then marched back over to Stacy’s ravaged body. Using the tip of her boot, she rolled the fallen blonde onto her back.
Domina raised the folded steel chair above her head. She paused to savor the moment. Then, with no remorse, she plunged the edge of the chair straight down into Stacy’s exposed abdomen.
Once. Then again. Finally, a third time.
Stacy wailed each time as the metal connected with her midsection. Her body exploded with pain. Her throat hurt from all of the screaming. She writhed around on the floor, clutching her tortured stomach and ribcage.
Domina slid the chair under the bottom rope into the ring. She bent over and grabbed a fistful of Stacy’s golden blond hair and once again yanked her to her feet, then lifted her body off of the floor, shoving her back into the ring.
Stacy lay there on the mat, weeping and whimpering, her body pushed to its limits. She had endured more pain in the last few minutes than she had ever experienced in her lifetime. She felt as if she could not take any more.
But Domina was just getting started.
The leather clad warrior climbed back into the ring. She dropped to her knees, straddling Stacy’s tormented body. The victimized diva felt Domina’s rough hands as they grabbed her small, shapely tits. Her long bony fingers kneaded and pressed her flesh painfully through the fabric of her top. Stacy groaned as the larger woman molested her unwilling body.
Before she could register exactly what was happening, Domina started to undo the knot that held Stacy’s top in place.
Stacy shook her head frantically.
“No! Don’t!” she begged. “Don’t do this! Please!”
But it was too late. Domina smiled, like an eager child unwrapping her present on Christmas morning.
As if in slow motion, Stacy felt her perfectly formed tits spill out of her flimsy top, exposing them for all the world to see. She shrieked in horror as she tried to shield her chest with her arms.
The crowd erupted in cheers. The cameras zoomed in on her body from all angles, exposing her bare flesh for the millions of fans watching at home.
Domina angrily brushed Stacy’s arms aside and began pummeling her tits with closed fits, smashing away at the naked flesh in front of her. Stacy screeched and squealed as each strike found its mark, her round, fleshy orbs jiggling like two bowls of quivering jell-o.
Stacy lost count of how many blows she had suffered. She begged and pleaded for Domina to stop, but her protests fell on deaf ears.
Domina was like a woman possessed. Stacy’s beautiful body sent her into a frenzy. She continued brutally assaulting the angelic beauty, her bare knuckles battering and thrashing with reckless abandon.
“STOP!” screamed Stacy. “NO MORE! PLEASE, I’LL DO ANYTHING!”
Finally, the raven haired warrior relented. Stacy felt a brief reprieve, but before she could recover, she felt Domina’s long fingers grab her nipples, seizing the delicate pink tissue like pincers, squeezing and twisting violently.
Stacy’s arms and legs flailed about as she screamed louder than she had ever screamed in her life. The pain was beyond measure. It felt as though her nipples were about to be torn from her body.
Finally, Domina let go. She sprung to her feet to a roar of approval from the crowd. They loved every second.
Stacy covered her tits with her hands. She tried to massage the pain away but it was too much. She rolled over onto her stomach, hoping to protect her chest from any further abuse.
Domina looked down at her fallen prey, shaking her head and smiling condescendingly. She almost felt sorry for Stacy. She hadn’t even put up a fight. She had just laid there and taken her punishment. Not even an ounce of resistance.
Stacy used what little strength she had to pull herself up to her hands and knees. She crawled like a dog on all fours toward the ring ropes. She reached one hand unsteadily out and grabbed the middle rope.
From outside the ring, a cameraman recorded all of her movements, focusing on her beautiful, tortured face. She looked into the lens imploringly.
“Vince,” she pleaded. “Please, send someone to help me! She’s killing me!”
Domina watched all of this and cackled loudly. She walked over to Stacy’s carcass and knelt down beside her. She cupped the young girl’s chin in her hand and looked directly in her eyes, smiling broadly.
“Vince?” she asked in disbelief. “You think Vince is coming to save you?”
Domina tightened her grip on Stacy’s chin.
“You stupid whore,” she continued, her voice dripping with disdain. “Who do you think sent me down here to do his dirty work?”
Stacy stared at Domina in disbelief.
“No,” she whispered. “That’s not true! You’re lying! That’s impossible!”
Stacy shook her head in disbelief as fresh tears streamed down her cheeks.
Domina rose to her feet and berated her victim.
“Look at you!” she said. “You’re weak! You’re pitiful!”
The larger woman bent over and grabbed Stacy’s hips with her massive hands.
Stacy felt Domina’s intrusive fingers as they clawed underneath the waist of her mini-skirt.
“No,” cried Stacy. “What are you--?”
With one quick motion, Domina tore the blue and white skirt off of Stacy’s body.
The crowd erupted with a deafening roar.
Stacy let out a startled yelp. She lay there, now clad only in her white string bikini briefs. Never in her life had she dreamed she would suffer so much humiliation.
She desperately tried to cover the lower half of her body with one arm while still trying to shield her exposed tits with her other.
Domina watched all of this with fiendish pleasure. Stacy’s suffering was her delight. She twirled the skirt over her head in celebration, ridiculing her fallen prey.
Stacy made a last-ditch effort to escape. She tried squirming underneath the bottom ropes, but before she could get out, she felt the Italian dominatrix’s hands clutch a fistful of her hair and drag her back into the ring.
“Now, now, my puppet,” Domina chastised. “It’s not time to go home yet!”
She wrapped the mini-skirt around Stacy’s throat.
Stacy shook her head frantically. But there was nothing she could do. She lay there flat on her stomach, completely helpless.
Domina pulled back on both ends of the skirt, wrenching the young blonde’s upper back into a camel clutch.
Stacy’s eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets as she struggled to breathe, her mouth open wide, like a fish out of water. Her face turned a sickening plum color. She grasped helplessly at the fabric around her neck.
Domina continued laughing cruelly. She dug her knee into the center of Stacy’s spine for added leverage, pulling her tortured body up even further, arching her neck and back into an unnatural shape.
Stacy’s naked tits were pointed straight into the camera. The cameramen zoomed in accordingly.
Domina smiled sadistically. She could feel Stacy’s body underneath her, fading rapidly. She was tempted to finish her off right then, but Vince had given her strict orders to prolong the torment as much as possible.
She recalled his exact words: “Torture the bitch.”
At the last possible moment, she relinquished her grip. Stacy’s body flopped down face first, her forehead smacking the mat violently.
Stacy gasped and wheezed as her lungs struggled to take in much needed oxygen. Her hands went to her throat as she coughed and sputtered. She rolled onto her back, totally exhausted.
Domina was immediately upon her. She grabbed hold of Stacy’s ankles and lifted her long legs upright, positioning the diva’s body in an L-shape.
Stacy stared up at her tormentor, still struggling to catch her breath.
“Make a wish, Stacy!” taunted Domina.
Slowly, the Italian brute began pulling Stacy’s legs downward in opposite directions, forcing them into a split.
Stacy shook her head frantically.
“No! NO!” she begged.
Stacy was one of the more flexible women on the WWE roster, but even her body was not meant to bend like this. She felt the pressure increase as Domina pressed harder and harder until Stacy’s legs formed right angles to her torso.
She let out a tortured howl of agony. She felt as if she were about to break in two.
Just as it seemed that she could take no more, Domina relented.
Stacy felt a moment of relief. But it was not to last.
Before Stacy could recover, Domina did the unthinkable. She reared her right leg back and savagely punted the point of her steel-toed boot straight into Stacy’s cxnt.
Shockwaves of blinding pain exploded from Stacy’s flowery feminine center. It was like nothing she had ever felt in her young life.
Domina released her grip on Stacy’s ankles and watched as the tortured diva squirmed and writhed around on the mat, clutching her hands between her legs, screaming in misery.
Stacy’s cries were like a symphony to Domina’s ears. She could listen to her scream all day.
But it was time to end this.
She marched over to the corner of the ring and grabbed the steel chair that she had placed there earlier, then back over to the center of the ring and dropped it onto the mat.
Stacy felt Domina’s hands grip her by her throat. Still reeling from the stabbing pain in her pussy, she could do nothing as she was pulled back to her feet.
She stood there on shaky legs, wearing only her white cotton panties, her almost naked body on display for all the world to see.
Domina held her there for a moment, allowing the cameras and the audience to get a good look at her pathetic opponent.
Stacy moaned and sobbed, her eyes overflowing with tears as she stumbled about. Every inch of her body ached with pain.
Domina, still clutching her by the throat, pulled the blonde diva close to her, their faces almost touching.
She whispered in her ear: “Are you ready to go for a ride, Stacy?”
Stacy shook her head. “Please,” she whimpered. “No more...”
Domina smiled. “Time for the tombstone, bitch!”
Stacy’s eyes widened in fear. She shook her head and tried to scream once more, but her cry died in her throat as Domina lifted her body in one fluid motion, spinning her around helplessly so that her head pointed downward, hovering only inches above the seat of the folded steel chair. Her long legs pointed straight up into the air. The fabric of her panties was still wedged firmly between her butt cheeks. Meanwhile, her face was pressed into the crotch of Domina’s leather pants.
Domina squeezed the pitiful cheerleader’s torso with her powerful arms. Stacy’s legs spread apart. The Italian warrior savored the moment for as long as she could. Her face was only inches from Stacy’s pussy. She smiled and inhaled, breathing in the aroma of sweat and pheromones that wafted through the fabric of Stacy’s white bikini panties. It was like inhaling her soul, her essence, her life force. It smelled sweeter than the most expensive perfume.
Stacy felt all of the blood in her body rushing to her head. She whined, “Please...someone...help me...”
Domina laughed. She squeezed the angelic blonde’s torso once more, then--
She dropped abruptly to her knees, viciously spiking the top of Stacy’s head directly into the surface of the steel chair. There was a sickening CRACK as her skull connected with the unforgiving metal.
Stacy’s world went black.
Her lifeless body crumpled to the mat, her arms and legs spread in all directions. Her head lolled to the side, her eyes closed. She looked at peace.
Domina hovered over the inanimate body before her. She planted her massive hands on top of Stacy’s naked chest, asserting her dominance over her disgraced opponent in a pinning position.
But this bad not been a match. It had been a massacre.
Domina stared directly into the hard cam, posing over her fallen prey for a long moment, allowing the cameramen and the audience to drink in her presence.
She would have preferred if Stacy had even tried to put up a fight. But the pathetic blonde had been no match at all. She had existed only to suffer, to be abused and victimized, to absorb every ounce of punishment that Domina had inflicted upon her.
Domina had barely broken a sweat. But she had still enjoyed herself. Stacy was one of the most beautiful women on the planet, and therefore, the most deserving of punishment. To destroy her had been a pleasure, like pulling petals off of a beautiful flower, or tearing the wings off of a captured butterfly.
Domina looked down at the fallen diva, studying her. She crawled slowly on hands and knees until she was positioned directly over Stacy’s still unmoving body. She reached down and caressed that gorgeous face. She was still lovely, perhaps even more so, now that she was unconscious. Her hands moved to the long blonde locks that framed her head. Her hair had spread out on the mat, creating a sort of halo effect. Domina ran her fingers through the soft mane.
Slowly, methodically, she ran her fingers over Stacy’s body, along her slender neck, down her exposed chest, gliding her hand in between Stacy’s soft teardrop-shaped breasts, down her torso, and then finally resting at her waist.
Her index finger gently traced the perimeter of Stacy’s white bikini panties. The only fabric that remained on her body.
The cameras captured every moment of this sick tableau. A hush had fallen over the crowd, as they waited to see what would happen next. Domina lingered for a moment, floating her finger softly over the triangle-shape of Stacy’s briefs.
Then, carefully, she began to pull the panties down, moving them past Stacy’s toned thighs. The cameras closed in as the fabric was slid, almost in slow motion, down the diva’s long, smooth legs, past her calves, over her ankles, and finally over her delicate bare feet.
The crowd erupted once more as Domina stood up, holding her conquered victim’s bikini briefs over her head. She held them to her face, inhaling the aroma as if sniffing a bouquet of flowers. The panties were still damp and fragrant with Stacy’s sweat.
Stacy lay there, now completely nude, exposed for all the world to see. A cameraman had climbed into the ring and stood over her, surveying her unconscious body, conducting a sort of autopsy on the defeated diva, panning slowly from her stunningly beautiful face, down over her naked tits, to her bare torso, then remaining for a moment on her small, carefully maintained patch of honey blonde pubic hair.
Domina pushed the cameraman aside. She bent over Stacy’s vanquished form and parted the young girl’s soft, pillowy lips, then stuffed the panties into her mouth.
Domina de la Morte stood up over her quarry. She lifted her boot and rested it on Stacy’s naked chest, then raised her fist in victory.
Prior to joining the WWE, Stacy had been an NFL cheerleader, and while the Cowboys weren’t her team of choice, it only made sense for her to wear the blue and white uniform, since Raw was live from Dallas tonight.
She strutted up the metal ring stairs and onto the apron, where she stepped through the middle and top ropes as only she could, bending over seductively, her ass pointing outward, lingering there for a moment, while the crowd leered over every inch of her. The cameraman made sure to zoom up her mini-skirt, catching a glimpse of her crisp white cotton panties.
Stacy finished her entrance and marched to the center of the ring where she twirled about, shaking her blue and white pom-poms to the rhythm of her signature entrance theme. She flashed her million dollar smile, projecting a combination of girl-next-door wholesomeness and movie star sex appeal.
She was a vision.
The fans adored her. The cameras drank her in, beaming her angelic visage to the millions of viewers watching at home. She put her years of experience as a Nitro Girl to good use, allowing her body to move seductively in time to the music, gyrating her lithe, dancer’s body, and kicking her impossibly long legs into the air. She spun around, giving the crowd another peek at her panties as her skirt twirled above her waist.
It felt as if everything was going her way. She thought that nothing could go wrong.
But then the music stopped. The lights went out.
A hush fell over the audience. Stacy ceased her choreographed dance routine and looked around, slightly miffed. She knew that this was a live television show and that the occasional production hiccup was to be expected, but the timing of the power outage irritated her. Her hands, still clutching her pom-poms, went to her hips and she waited for the lights to come back up.
After a moment, they did.
Standing across the ring from her was Domina de la Morte. The audiences stunned silence turned to a loud roar.
Stacy froze in place, her brow furrowed in a deep look of concern. Domina had appeared months ago on the SmackDown brand, cutting a swath through the women’s division, laying waste to every Diva that stood in her way with her patented piledrivers, before disappearing suddenly without a trace. Since Stacy was on the Raw brand, she had assumed she was safe from Domina’s brutality.
Now, here she was, looking intently at Stacy with a sick, demented smile stretched across her face.
Domina stood over six feet, four inches tall. She was clad in black leather pants and a matching bustier. She wore heavy Doc Martens on her feet and black studded fingerless gauntlets on her hands that completed her gothic Valkyrie warrior look. A shock of long, teased black hair framed her face, her eyes smeared with dark eyeliner and her mouth coated with deep purple lipstick.
Stacy had always been one of the taller Divas in the WWE, but she felt small in comparison to Domina.
Domina appeared ready for war. Stacy felt silly in comparison, dressed only in her midriff baring top and matching skirt that barely covered her underwear. Her white leather boots were more for style, not battle. She felt exposed and vulnerable. Helpless.
It seemed as though the temperature had dropped in only a matter of seconds. A chill ran down her spine and she shivered uncontrollably. She could feel her nipples harden beneath her flimsy top. She wanted to cover up, but all she had were her ridiculous pom-poms.
Her mouth went dry. She licked her soft pillowy lips and she tried to swallow in order to restore some of the moisture.
She thought about running, but before she could do anything--
Domina delivered a swift, thunderous boot to Stacy’s stomach, knocking the wind out of her body. She doubled over in pain, dropping her pom-poms and clutching her belly.
Stacy felt Domina’s massive hands grab her golden blonde hair and shove her head between the larger woman’s powerful, tree-trunk like thighs, locking her in place like a vice.
“No!” screamed Stacy. “Let me go! Stop!”
Domina grabbed the back of Stacy’s string bikini panties and wedgied them up sadistically in between the diva’s smooth, toned butt cheeks, creating a thong-like effect. Stacy let out a high-pitched squeal as she felt the fabric dig into her backside.
“Oh, God!” cried Stacy. “Someone, help me!”
Domina only laughed at the blonde’s pathetic pleas. She wrapped her muscular arms around Stacy’s svelte torso and lifted her body into a vertical position, her legs pointing straight up into the air. Stacy’s mini-skirt fell victim to gravity and draped downward, revealing her skimpy white panties in full.
“Please!” shrieked Stacy. “Put me down! Let me--”
But her cries were interrupted as Domina dropped backwards into a sitting position, spiking the crown of Stacy’s head violently into the mat, delivering a vicious piledriver.
Stacy’s body collapsed clumsily into a heap, her long limbs splayed in all directions. She lay there, unmoving.
The crowd erupted in cheers. As much as they loved Stacy, they loved to see her punished even more.
Domina rose to her feet and stood over the fallen diva, looking down on her with utter contempt.
“How dare this frivolous bimbo step into the same ring as me?” thought Domina. “This is an arena for warriors, and this tart dares to come down here, dressed like...this?”
Seeing Stacy lay there in her disheveled cheerleader outfit, panties exposed, looking so helpless and weak, only enraged Domina even further. She grabbed a hold of the diva’s right leg and undid the zipper of her boot, aggressively pulling the shiny white leather off of her foot, then casting it aside. She let the leg fall back down to the mat, then grabbed the left leg and did the same.
Stacy’s long, smooth legs were left completely bare. She began to stir, her head lolling weakly from side to side, moaning softly.
Domina reached down and grabbed a fistful of Stacy’s hair. Stacy let out a startled yelp as Domina dragged her limp body across the ring to the ropes. The young blonde tried to resist but her adversary was too powerful.
Domina forced Stacy up onto her knees, then pilloried her upper body over the middle rope.
Domina climbed through the ropes and onto the ring apron, then pulled the diva out of the ring so that they both stood on the narrow border. This was generally considered the most dangerous and unforgiving section of the ring.
Stacy was on shaky legs and thought she might fall, but before she could worry about that, Domina drove her left knee viciously into the willowy blonde’s stomach.
Once again, Stacy doubled over in pain, clutching her belly, trying to catch her wind. Domina grabbed her by her ears and shoved her head downward and between her thighs, locking her into a familiar position.
Stacy panicked, knowing that another piledriver would be disastrous. She swung wildly in desperation at the larger woman’s torso but her fists had no effect. Domina laughed cruelly at the futility of the blows as they bounced off of her thick, muscular body. She reached down and hooked Stacy’s arms, then grabbed the back of her thighs, lifting her up off of the mat and tucking her body into an upside down ball-like shape, setting her up for a package piledriver.
“No!” begged Stacy. “Stop it!”
But her pleas fell on deaf ears, as Domina dropped back into a sitting position once more, slamming the back of Stacy’s head and neck onto the unyielding ring apron.
Upon impact, Stacy’s body uncoiled like a spring. Her head bounced off of the perimeter and her body fell gracelessly to the outside of the ring, where she landed hard on the floor, her arms and legs positioned awkwardly at different angles. She looked like the victim of a horrific car accident. Her blue and white skirt rode up high on her waist, her white panties again on full display.
The crowd let out a cacophonous roar. They cheered for Domina as though she were a hero. She ignored them, not caring if they approved or not. Their opinions were irrelevant to her. She had work to do.
She dropped down to the floor, then reached down and grabbed Stacy by the throat. The diva’s body was completely limp, like a broken and discarded doll. Domina had no trouble pulling her back to her feet.
Stacy’s legs were like jell-o. She stumbled about, only remaining upright due to the firm grasp Domina had around her neck. Her head ached as though a bomb had gone off inside of her skull.
Domina motioned to a nearby cameraman. He zoomed in on Stacy’s face. The beautiful blonde could barely open her eyes.
“Get a good look at the American Barbie doll!” she sneered, her accented voice dripping with venom and disdain. “Is this what you call a wrestler? She can’t even stand on her two feet! Pathetic!”
Domina throttled Stacy with both hands, squeezing her slender neck and shaking her lifeless body back and forth. Stacy clawed and scratched at the madwoman’s hands, trying to get her to relinquish her forceful grip.
Domina released her stranglehold. With her right hand, she grabbed Stacy’s crotch and scooped her up, cradling her body horizontally, manhandling the innocent blonde like she was a toy.
Stacy felt her sense of gravity disappear as she was lifted into the air. Domina held her firmly. She could feel the giant woman’s long, bony fingers as they gripped her by the pussy. She squirmed, trying to free herself but her opponent was too strong.
Domina glared into the camera lens, a look of evil intent on her face. She ran toward the ring post and rammed Stacy’s body spine-first into the unforgiving piece of steel.
Stacy let out a bloodcurdling scream, her face contorted in an expression of anguish and torture. Domina threw Stacy to the mat. She landed hard with a loud THUMP.
Stacy howled in agony. She rolled over onto her side, reaching her arm around to her back. She sobbed loudly, tears streaming down her beautiful, pain-stricken face. She could not understand why this was happening to her. What had she done to deserve such cruelty? Why wasn’t anyone coming to help her?
The crowd continued cheering for Domina. Their bloodlust knew no bounds.
The barbarian queen went over to the timekeeper’s table and grabbed a folded steel chair, then marched back over to Stacy’s ravaged body. Using the tip of her boot, she rolled the fallen blonde onto her back.
Domina raised the folded steel chair above her head. She paused to savor the moment. Then, with no remorse, she plunged the edge of the chair straight down into Stacy’s exposed abdomen.
Once. Then again. Finally, a third time.
Stacy wailed each time as the metal connected with her midsection. Her body exploded with pain. Her throat hurt from all of the screaming. She writhed around on the floor, clutching her tortured stomach and ribcage.
Domina slid the chair under the bottom rope into the ring. She bent over and grabbed a fistful of Stacy’s golden blond hair and once again yanked her to her feet, then lifted her body off of the floor, shoving her back into the ring.
Stacy lay there on the mat, weeping and whimpering, her body pushed to its limits. She had endured more pain in the last few minutes than she had ever experienced in her lifetime. She felt as if she could not take any more.
But Domina was just getting started.
The leather clad warrior climbed back into the ring. She dropped to her knees, straddling Stacy’s tormented body. The victimized diva felt Domina’s rough hands as they grabbed her small, shapely tits. Her long bony fingers kneaded and pressed her flesh painfully through the fabric of her top. Stacy groaned as the larger woman molested her unwilling body.
Before she could register exactly what was happening, Domina started to undo the knot that held Stacy’s top in place.
Stacy shook her head frantically.
“No! Don’t!” she begged. “Don’t do this! Please!”
But it was too late. Domina smiled, like an eager child unwrapping her present on Christmas morning.
As if in slow motion, Stacy felt her perfectly formed tits spill out of her flimsy top, exposing them for all the world to see. She shrieked in horror as she tried to shield her chest with her arms.
The crowd erupted in cheers. The cameras zoomed in on her body from all angles, exposing her bare flesh for the millions of fans watching at home.
Domina angrily brushed Stacy’s arms aside and began pummeling her tits with closed fits, smashing away at the naked flesh in front of her. Stacy screeched and squealed as each strike found its mark, her round, fleshy orbs jiggling like two bowls of quivering jell-o.
Stacy lost count of how many blows she had suffered. She begged and pleaded for Domina to stop, but her protests fell on deaf ears.
Domina was like a woman possessed. Stacy’s beautiful body sent her into a frenzy. She continued brutally assaulting the angelic beauty, her bare knuckles battering and thrashing with reckless abandon.
“STOP!” screamed Stacy. “NO MORE! PLEASE, I’LL DO ANYTHING!”
Finally, the raven haired warrior relented. Stacy felt a brief reprieve, but before she could recover, she felt Domina’s long fingers grab her nipples, seizing the delicate pink tissue like pincers, squeezing and twisting violently.
Stacy’s arms and legs flailed about as she screamed louder than she had ever screamed in her life. The pain was beyond measure. It felt as though her nipples were about to be torn from her body.
Finally, Domina let go. She sprung to her feet to a roar of approval from the crowd. They loved every second.
Stacy covered her tits with her hands. She tried to massage the pain away but it was too much. She rolled over onto her stomach, hoping to protect her chest from any further abuse.
Domina looked down at her fallen prey, shaking her head and smiling condescendingly. She almost felt sorry for Stacy. She hadn’t even put up a fight. She had just laid there and taken her punishment. Not even an ounce of resistance.
Stacy used what little strength she had to pull herself up to her hands and knees. She crawled like a dog on all fours toward the ring ropes. She reached one hand unsteadily out and grabbed the middle rope.
From outside the ring, a cameraman recorded all of her movements, focusing on her beautiful, tortured face. She looked into the lens imploringly.
“Vince,” she pleaded. “Please, send someone to help me! She’s killing me!”
Domina watched all of this and cackled loudly. She walked over to Stacy’s carcass and knelt down beside her. She cupped the young girl’s chin in her hand and looked directly in her eyes, smiling broadly.
“Vince?” she asked in disbelief. “You think Vince is coming to save you?”
Domina tightened her grip on Stacy’s chin.
“You stupid whore,” she continued, her voice dripping with disdain. “Who do you think sent me down here to do his dirty work?”
Stacy stared at Domina in disbelief.
“No,” she whispered. “That’s not true! You’re lying! That’s impossible!”
Stacy shook her head in disbelief as fresh tears streamed down her cheeks.
Domina rose to her feet and berated her victim.
“Look at you!” she said. “You’re weak! You’re pitiful!”
The larger woman bent over and grabbed Stacy’s hips with her massive hands.
Stacy felt Domina’s intrusive fingers as they clawed underneath the waist of her mini-skirt.
“No,” cried Stacy. “What are you--?”
With one quick motion, Domina tore the blue and white skirt off of Stacy’s body.
The crowd erupted with a deafening roar.
Stacy let out a startled yelp. She lay there, now clad only in her white string bikini briefs. Never in her life had she dreamed she would suffer so much humiliation.
She desperately tried to cover the lower half of her body with one arm while still trying to shield her exposed tits with her other.
Domina watched all of this with fiendish pleasure. Stacy’s suffering was her delight. She twirled the skirt over her head in celebration, ridiculing her fallen prey.
Stacy made a last-ditch effort to escape. She tried squirming underneath the bottom ropes, but before she could get out, she felt the Italian dominatrix’s hands clutch a fistful of her hair and drag her back into the ring.
“Now, now, my puppet,” Domina chastised. “It’s not time to go home yet!”
She wrapped the mini-skirt around Stacy’s throat.
Stacy shook her head frantically. But there was nothing she could do. She lay there flat on her stomach, completely helpless.
Domina pulled back on both ends of the skirt, wrenching the young blonde’s upper back into a camel clutch.
Stacy’s eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets as she struggled to breathe, her mouth open wide, like a fish out of water. Her face turned a sickening plum color. She grasped helplessly at the fabric around her neck.
Domina continued laughing cruelly. She dug her knee into the center of Stacy’s spine for added leverage, pulling her tortured body up even further, arching her neck and back into an unnatural shape.
Stacy’s naked tits were pointed straight into the camera. The cameramen zoomed in accordingly.
Domina smiled sadistically. She could feel Stacy’s body underneath her, fading rapidly. She was tempted to finish her off right then, but Vince had given her strict orders to prolong the torment as much as possible.
She recalled his exact words: “Torture the bitch.”
At the last possible moment, she relinquished her grip. Stacy’s body flopped down face first, her forehead smacking the mat violently.
Stacy gasped and wheezed as her lungs struggled to take in much needed oxygen. Her hands went to her throat as she coughed and sputtered. She rolled onto her back, totally exhausted.
Domina was immediately upon her. She grabbed hold of Stacy’s ankles and lifted her long legs upright, positioning the diva’s body in an L-shape.
Stacy stared up at her tormentor, still struggling to catch her breath.
“Make a wish, Stacy!” taunted Domina.
Slowly, the Italian brute began pulling Stacy’s legs downward in opposite directions, forcing them into a split.
Stacy shook her head frantically.
“No! NO!” she begged.
Stacy was one of the more flexible women on the WWE roster, but even her body was not meant to bend like this. She felt the pressure increase as Domina pressed harder and harder until Stacy’s legs formed right angles to her torso.
She let out a tortured howl of agony. She felt as if she were about to break in two.
Just as it seemed that she could take no more, Domina relented.
Stacy felt a moment of relief. But it was not to last.
Before Stacy could recover, Domina did the unthinkable. She reared her right leg back and savagely punted the point of her steel-toed boot straight into Stacy’s cxnt.
Shockwaves of blinding pain exploded from Stacy’s flowery feminine center. It was like nothing she had ever felt in her young life.
Domina released her grip on Stacy’s ankles and watched as the tortured diva squirmed and writhed around on the mat, clutching her hands between her legs, screaming in misery.
Stacy’s cries were like a symphony to Domina’s ears. She could listen to her scream all day.
But it was time to end this.
She marched over to the corner of the ring and grabbed the steel chair that she had placed there earlier, then back over to the center of the ring and dropped it onto the mat.
Stacy felt Domina’s hands grip her by her throat. Still reeling from the stabbing pain in her pussy, she could do nothing as she was pulled back to her feet.
She stood there on shaky legs, wearing only her white cotton panties, her almost naked body on display for all the world to see.
Domina held her there for a moment, allowing the cameras and the audience to get a good look at her pathetic opponent.
Stacy moaned and sobbed, her eyes overflowing with tears as she stumbled about. Every inch of her body ached with pain.
Domina, still clutching her by the throat, pulled the blonde diva close to her, their faces almost touching.
She whispered in her ear: “Are you ready to go for a ride, Stacy?”
Stacy shook her head. “Please,” she whimpered. “No more...”
Domina smiled. “Time for the tombstone, bitch!”
Stacy’s eyes widened in fear. She shook her head and tried to scream once more, but her cry died in her throat as Domina lifted her body in one fluid motion, spinning her around helplessly so that her head pointed downward, hovering only inches above the seat of the folded steel chair. Her long legs pointed straight up into the air. The fabric of her panties was still wedged firmly between her butt cheeks. Meanwhile, her face was pressed into the crotch of Domina’s leather pants.
Domina squeezed the pitiful cheerleader’s torso with her powerful arms. Stacy’s legs spread apart. The Italian warrior savored the moment for as long as she could. Her face was only inches from Stacy’s pussy. She smiled and inhaled, breathing in the aroma of sweat and pheromones that wafted through the fabric of Stacy’s white bikini panties. It was like inhaling her soul, her essence, her life force. It smelled sweeter than the most expensive perfume.
Stacy felt all of the blood in her body rushing to her head. She whined, “Please...someone...help me...”
Domina laughed. She squeezed the angelic blonde’s torso once more, then--
She dropped abruptly to her knees, viciously spiking the top of Stacy’s head directly into the surface of the steel chair. There was a sickening CRACK as her skull connected with the unforgiving metal.
Stacy’s world went black.
Her lifeless body crumpled to the mat, her arms and legs spread in all directions. Her head lolled to the side, her eyes closed. She looked at peace.
Domina hovered over the inanimate body before her. She planted her massive hands on top of Stacy’s naked chest, asserting her dominance over her disgraced opponent in a pinning position.
But this bad not been a match. It had been a massacre.
Domina stared directly into the hard cam, posing over her fallen prey for a long moment, allowing the cameramen and the audience to drink in her presence.
She would have preferred if Stacy had even tried to put up a fight. But the pathetic blonde had been no match at all. She had existed only to suffer, to be abused and victimized, to absorb every ounce of punishment that Domina had inflicted upon her.
Domina had barely broken a sweat. But she had still enjoyed herself. Stacy was one of the most beautiful women on the planet, and therefore, the most deserving of punishment. To destroy her had been a pleasure, like pulling petals off of a beautiful flower, or tearing the wings off of a captured butterfly.
Domina looked down at the fallen diva, studying her. She crawled slowly on hands and knees until she was positioned directly over Stacy’s still unmoving body. She reached down and caressed that gorgeous face. She was still lovely, perhaps even more so, now that she was unconscious. Her hands moved to the long blonde locks that framed her head. Her hair had spread out on the mat, creating a sort of halo effect. Domina ran her fingers through the soft mane.
Slowly, methodically, she ran her fingers over Stacy’s body, along her slender neck, down her exposed chest, gliding her hand in between Stacy’s soft teardrop-shaped breasts, down her torso, and then finally resting at her waist.
Her index finger gently traced the perimeter of Stacy’s white bikini panties. The only fabric that remained on her body.
The cameras captured every moment of this sick tableau. A hush had fallen over the crowd, as they waited to see what would happen next. Domina lingered for a moment, floating her finger softly over the triangle-shape of Stacy’s briefs.
Then, carefully, she began to pull the panties down, moving them past Stacy’s toned thighs. The cameras closed in as the fabric was slid, almost in slow motion, down the diva’s long, smooth legs, past her calves, over her ankles, and finally over her delicate bare feet.
The crowd erupted once more as Domina stood up, holding her conquered victim’s bikini briefs over her head. She held them to her face, inhaling the aroma as if sniffing a bouquet of flowers. The panties were still damp and fragrant with Stacy’s sweat.
Stacy lay there, now completely nude, exposed for all the world to see. A cameraman had climbed into the ring and stood over her, surveying her unconscious body, conducting a sort of autopsy on the defeated diva, panning slowly from her stunningly beautiful face, down over her naked tits, to her bare torso, then remaining for a moment on her small, carefully maintained patch of honey blonde pubic hair.
Domina pushed the cameraman aside. She bent over Stacy’s vanquished form and parted the young girl’s soft, pillowy lips, then stuffed the panties into her mouth.
Domina de la Morte stood up over her quarry. She lifted her boot and rested it on Stacy’s naked chest, then raised her fist in victory.
4
Sexfighting and Titfighting / Re: Question
« Last post by bobf on Today at 09:53:46 PM »I Spy sounds interesting
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Help and Suggestions / Better ways to identify new postings
« Last post by Forties_Couple on Today at 09:36:58 PM »I’m wondering if there is a better way of identifying new “topic” posts, as opposed to new “comment” posts. My particular interest is primarily in the stories section. When I see new, I’m thinking of a new story, only to find there is a new comment. Perhaps leave the word “new” for new topic material and use “update” or “comment” as responses to the topic.
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Members Catfight Polls! / Re: The Rematch Irish Heather versus MorganCatfights
« Last post by IrishHeather on Today at 08:48:13 PM »Your left hook slams hard into my face as my head jerks and my body rakes along the side of the metal car, my shoulder is hanging inside the open door as I dig my claws deeper and deeper into your throat ane squeeze more and more, I feel your breasts mashing into mine as I know and feel my dagger like nipples stabbing at the base of your nipples right around your areolas, as the awkwardness of how my shoulder is hanging inside the open door of the car has actually give me some relief from my neck, as I draw back my right fist as I can feel the blood rolling down my lip to my chin and slam my right fist straight into your nose with a hard THUD! as the crowd moves around the car closer and closer to not miss a single savage thing thats happening!! Yt
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General Discussion about Catfights / Re: Women watching women fight
« Last post by suhmann on Today at 08:40:01 PM »Because everyone loves a women's fight and if women do it, then it will be interesting, dynamic and long-lasting.And their emotions and concentration on the opponent are a separate topic, unlike men 
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Fictional Catfight Polls! / sexy grannies duel over young guy
« Last post by sam1 on Today at 08:32:33 PM »Two sexy grannies - blonde Pamela and dark-haired Olivia want the same young guy. Who is sexier and who will win the fight over him?
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Sexfighting and Titfighting / Re: Question
« Last post by Mike_Lynn on Today at 08:30:46 PM »I Spy was a wonderful series and was the first stories I read of yours. I would love to see another series similar and love the viciousness of Extreme. Anything you give, Dotti, would be worth reading! Love your works of art!Ditto Dotti
