Penthouse Pounding : Broken Promise Nicole vs Chelsea

[Chelsea]

We hit the floor with a hard crash and I'm lucky enough to be on top so you take most of the impact. I scramble to get a secure position but you start twisting and jerking your body while slamming your forearms and elbows into me... my face and breasts and ribs are taking a beating and I'm trying to block and deflect as many of the hits as I can but a lot are getting through and I feel the effects.

I may be on top but we both know what's at stake and there's still plenty of fight in you. You grab my hair again and my head snaps back and I let out a wail as you yank and the burning pain in my scalp gets worse. "You bitch let go of my hair!"

Between the heat in the room and all the energy we're both using, our bodies are slick with sweat and our bikinis are plastered to our bodies. We're breathing hard... panting and gasping... both letting out little whimpers every time a hard blow finds a target

You twist again and I sprawl off you. We end up locked together on our sides... legs kicking and snaking. I throw a few punches of my own and grab at your hair too. We start to roll around... locked together hitting and kicking and clawing... both trying to get the top position.

[Monaco73]

Come on Nicole, Beat her ass!

[Nicole]

We're locked together on our sides, slick with sweat, legs tangling and untangling as we roll across the floor in short, violent bursts. There's no elegance left now, just friction, weight, and the sound of our breathing tearing in and out of us.
Her punches are landing. Mine are too.
I feel her grab at me again, nails scraping, and something in me snaps, not panic, not fear, but a cold, focused anger that cuts through everything else. I try to plant my forearm against your throat just long enough to make you react, just long enough to steal a fraction of space.

Then I strike.

I hammer my elbow down into your side, once, twice, driving the point in hard where I know it will hurt. I feel your body tense under the impact. I don't wait to see what it does, I shift my hips and slam my knee forward, ramming it into your thigh, then again.
We roll again, bodies colliding, the floor burning against my shoulder as I twist. I try to hook my arm around your neck from the side, not a choke, but just enough to yank your head down and in while my other hand tries to crash into your ribs.
I'm snarling now, each movement costing me something but taking something from you too. Exhaustion and fatigue is already setting in. But this isn't about control. It's about making you feel every second of this.
I bridge hard and shove with everything I have, forcing us to turn again. Then I surge into it, striking again, refusing to let you breathe easy. Sweat stings my eyes, my muscles scream, but I keep coming, short blows, knees, elbows, anything I can drive into you from this position on the floor.
We're still tangled. Still grinding against the floor. Still fighting for the same inches.
I'm not just trying to survive, I'm truly trying to break you...

[Chelsea]

You press your forearm against my windpipe pushing my head back and giving you some room to move. You waste no time firing hard elbow strikes into my ribs and breast over and over, each one landing and doing damage. I'm trying to deal with the attack but you have a sudden adrenaline rush that's overwhelming me. Every time I move my arm to block a target you find another part of my body to attack.

Now your knee starts battering my thigh and your other arm wraps around my throat... I'm in defense mode now, I stop attacking, all I can do is try and cover up but that's failing... The battering is too much to take and I'm trying not to panic.

You bridge and buck suddenly and it forces me on my back on the cold floor with your stronger body now on top. You are starting to take control. I see your eyes that you know it and the audience must know it too.

My whole body is hurting and I'm pinned down under you, your legs grapevining mine as you refuse to stop attacking. Real panic kicks in when I hear you hiss close to my ear "I'm going to break you bitch... ''

[Nicole]

Your panic is unmistakable now. I feel it in the way your body tightens beneath mine, in the rhythm of your breath as my weight settles and refuses to move. The floor is cold against my knees, solid and grounding, and I widen my base without thinking - hips low, legs tight, anchoring you in place.

This is the moment I recognize every time.
The moment the noise drops away and everything becomes simple.
I've always loved this part, not the hurting, not the spectacle, but the clarity. The honesty of it. When there's no story left to tell yourself, no excuse to hide behind. Just pressure and will and the truth of who gives way first.

I feel you try to buck again. It goes nowhere.
I sink heavier, tightening my legs around yours, threading them deep and slowly spreading your legs apart so you can't move. Each frustrated movement dies under me, smaller than the last. I don't rush it. I don't need to. Just moving you slowly, steadily toward the ultimate humiliation.

My chest presses into yours as I settle lower, the contact unavoidable now. I register the solid resistance of your body beneath me as something in the way that has to be controlled. Every breath you take lifts against me, shallow and panicked, and I stay heavy through it.

I slide my forearm back across your throat, just firm enough to keep your head pinned and turned, to make you stay exactly where you are. Your hands come up, clawing, unfocused now.

I strike again.

Short elbows. Precise. Deliberate.
I drive them into your ribs, your shoulder, wherever you open when you try to defend herself. I feel you recoil beneath me, feel your body folding inward, shrinking away from the pressure.

And then I look at your face.

Your eyes are wide now, glassy with effort and fear, darting for space that isn't there. The confidence you walked in with is gone, stripped away by inches, by weight, by inevitability. This is the version of you I always knew was there underneath the anger and the speed.

This is why I love this.

Not because I'm stronger.

Because here, right here, nothing lies. I lean in closer, close enough to feel the heat of your skin, to hear the strained pull of her breath against my steady one. My arm tightens again, containing you, holding you exactly where you do not want to be.

I don't shout. I don't need to.

"This is what happens," I say quietly, "when there's nowhere left to run."

You're still conscious. Still hurting. Still fighting in the small ways you have left.

But the fight belongs to me now.

I feel it settle in my chest, the same calm I always do when effort turns into control, when resistance turns into inevitability. This is the part of myself I keep hidden from the rest of my life, the part that only wakes up in moments, in nights, like this.

I press my weight down harder and tighten my hold. If you want out of this, you're going to have to give me something real...

I shift forward and rise just enough to slide my knees up, then settle squarely on you, my weight centered, now sitting and unavoidable on your belly and then sliding onto your chest and then your neck, my pussy now pressed firm against your chin. Looking down on you, my inner things alongside your head, squeezing tightly. Your breath catches under me, short and shallow now. I take your wrists and stretch your arms further above your head, pinning them flat to the floor. Every time you strain, I answer by dropping my weight harder, pressing you back down.

I lean in so you can't look away.

Your eyes are wide, glassy with effort and fear, darting for an escape that isn't there. The confidence you walked in with is gone, stripped away by inches, by weight, by inevitability.I am controlling every move you make...leaning down, I whisper, "this is the last moment you get to choose how this ends...tell me to stop....beg me to stop..."

[Chelsea]

You have me pinned, flattened and stretched out under you, your stronger body completely covering mine, pressing down keeping me trapped and immobile. The more I try to squirm, the more you press down. My struggles are getting weaker, your weight resting and pushing down firmly on me is making it hard to breathe. I can't breathe and I can't move... unless you move me.

You hook your legs around mine and spread my legs out, grapevining them as far as they can go and then pushing even more... We both know you're in total control and can do whatever you want. By continuing to stretch my legs out testing my level of pain, making me whimper over and over, you're also letting our host and his guests see clearly that you're playing with me and can do anything you want to me and I can't do anything to stop you.

Your forearm stays pressed against my throat and you shift just enough to allow me to move one arm to grab desperately at your forearm. It's a reflex act of me trying to defend myself but it also works perfectly into your strategy. I leave myself open and vulnerable for a brutal vicious attack of elbow strikes... my ribs, my shoulder, the side of my breast, nothing is safe.

My gasping cries with each strike drown out the impressed awed murmurs of the guests. I open my eyes and see your face inches away, your eyes looking right at mine and you say in a cold soft voice "This is what happens when there's nowhere left to run."

A trembling shiver of fear and panic runs through my body and then I stop squirming, stop moving. You feel it. You know. You move slow and methodical knowing I can't and won't do anything, easing up and sitting firm and heavy on my heaving tummy. Then take your time sliding forward on my breasts and even higher up, forcing my sweat soaked bikini top up with you... resting on my neck with your strong thick thighs pressed tight against my head, squeezing forcing my head straight up.

You pin down my limp arms and sit there pressing down. Your pussy pushed into my chin, my face beet red from the pressure and humiliation. My legs slide weakly on the cold floor.

"Tell me to stop... beg me to stop." I won't say those words... With the last tiny bit of strength I have left in my broken body I bring my legs up at you hoping for them to miraculously wrap around you and rescue me... but you lean forward even more and reach a hand back to easily swat my legs away and they flop back down on the floor.

To punish me for my pathetic stubborn resistance, you squeeze your thighs even more and bump up and down on my neck while you grab my hair and begin to yank savagely.

"Okay ... god stop ... Aghhhhh! I give, I give! Stop please ... Agggghhhh! I'm begging! I'm begging! Stop!!"

[Nicole]

I register the stillness before anything else.
It's the absence of resistance beneath me, the way your body no longer pushes back but lies heavy and spent against the floor. The heat of the fight lingers on my skin, my breath steady now, my muscles humming with the aftershock of exertion. I feel grounded, rooted, alive, like everything has finally settled into its proper place.
When I shift back and rise, I'm aware of myself in a new way. My body feels solid, purposeful. My shoulders are squared, my balance easy, as if the fight stripped away everything unnecessary and left only what matters. There's a calm in me I don't get anywhere else, a clean, sharpened focus that makes the rest of the world feel distant and small.

I stand and look down at you.

You're still on the floor, chest rising and falling fast, breasts exposed and vulnerable, legs barely responding to the space I've given back. Your hair is damp and tangled against the marble, your face flushed, eyes unfocused as they struggle to catch up to what just happened. You look defeated and emptied, like our fight took something out of you that won't come back easily. I know that look. I've seen it before. Like the last time we fought.

It's the moment when anger runs out and there's nothing left to hide behind.

Around us, the room feels altered. The air is thick, charged, as if everyone watching is holding onto the same realization. I don't need to look at them to know what they see: not chaos, not spectacle, but certainty.

Control, settled and undeniable.

Standing in the middle of the room, all eyes on us, I feel taller standing there. Not physically, but internally. As if something in me has straightened and locked into place.
I don't feel the urge to speak again. Words would only dilute it.

Instead, I let the silence do the work. I let you lie there and feel it, the weight of what you gave up, the truth of who decided when this ended.

I let the room absorb the image of us as we are now: you grounded, beaten and spent, me standing above, looking down into your eyes, I'm composed and untouched by doubt.

This is the part I keep hidden from the rest of my life but I cherish.

The part that understands pressure. That understands endings. That knows exactly when something is finished. I place my right foot on your face, pressing down, trying to wake you so you can fully feel the humiliation of this moment.

Then when you wake I turn away, moving on, done and full of life.

And even without looking back, I'm smiling, I know you feel it. I can feel it for you. As you lay there, the finality and humiliation of this moment... etched in our memories, a bond that we'll share forever...

[Chelsea]

The humiliating words you force me to cry out echo in the room... You forced me to beg you to stop... begging you in front of everyone. I had no choice. I couldn't take any more punishment. You broke my body, my will and my pride.

You don't get up right away, you stay sitting heavily on me... proving a point to us all. You will get off me only when you decide it's time to get off me. I can't do anything about it. The audience won't do anything about it. I lay there under you looking up at you looking down at me.

Finally after what feels like an eternity you slowly rise to your feet. I'm able to take some halting breaths... still on my back, broken, not moving. You are standing over me still looking down. I have to close my eyes... I can't look at you. The room is so quiet, the guests are hushed, staring. The only sound is our breathing... yours is slow and steady, mine is shaky and halting.

I slowly open my eyes again. You are still there standing over me... still looking down. I see a slight smile start to form on your face. I don't dare move... just lay there looking up at your eyes and that slight smile...

[snw]

I enjoyed the writing you two did. Really paints a picture and really adds to the fight. Congratulations to you both and hope there are more poll fights done with this description to add life to those following it.

[Chelsea]

I want to thank these two incredible women for being nothing but amazing.  Well earned victory, extremely hard fought loss.  Both deserve all the accolades we can give them.  He definitely one of the better polls.I have been involved with.

Thank you so much for creating the poll for us, setting the scene and being a big part of the action as the host and with your posts!

Thanks to everyone who voted and thanks and congratulations to Nicole! Your posts were amazing and you deserved the win!

[Nicole]

Thanks, Chelsea and Michael, for making this so much fun!...and thanks to all who took the time to vote and comment! stay safe and be well!!

[Nicole]