[TheScribbler]

Tiffany thanked the Uber driver, opened the passenger’s side door and stepped out onto the rain-slicked sidewalk at the lower end of 9th Avenue.  The night was chilly, and she was glad she had dressed for the weather.  She pulled the zipper of her black leather jacket higher up her chest, and pushed her hands deep into the pockets as she headed for the corner a few yards away.  She had gotten the driver to drop her a few minutes’ walk from her destination.  The place she was headed kept a low profile, and it liked its patrons to do the same.

At the corner was a darkened storefront, and the streetlights gave her a glimpse of herself in the glass.  She allowed herself a small smile as she noticed that hers were not the only eyes upon her.  New York City’s meatpacking district was a busy place on a Friday night, and she caught a lot of appraising and admiring looks.

She certainly made an imposing figure.  At five-feet eight, the stiletto heels on her calf-length, black patent leather boots added another four inches.  The luxuriant mane of her platinum blonde hair put roughly two inches on top of that, and tumbled halfway down her back. 

Her long legs were sheathed in black leggings that hugged her thighs and emphasized the twin taut orbs of her butt.  Beneath her jacket was a black turtleneck sweater that clung to her slender, buxom figure like a second skin, but she kept the jacket zipped up high.  She liked to show off her body – she worked hard enough on it – but on a December night in the Big Apple, she preferred comfort to compliments, at least when she was outdoors.

It was a few minutes’ walk to the nondescript, two-storey, brown brick building, hidden in an alley off Little West 12th St.  There was no sign announcing its presence or purpose, just a wan hooded light above a steel stairway that led to an anonymous, deadlocked door on the second floor.  If you didn’t know where or what the place was, you had no business coming there.

Tiffany had business there.  It was not her first visit and she knew that whatever happened that night, it would not be her last either.  Nevertheless, there was a definite fluttering, deep in her belly, that was equal parts excitement and apprehension.

Despite the lack of a sign, the place had a name.  It was known to its patrons – and there were many – as The Slaughterhouse.  There was some irony to the name.  The building was over a hundred years ago and had indeed once been an abattoir.  Its current purpose was rather different but to many, the name was equally apt.  Lurking furtively in the midst of the bars and restaurants on the Lower East Side, the Slaughterhouse was home to one of the more extreme BDSM clubs that catered to New York City’s lesbian community.

Tiffany’s first time here had been shortly after she had moved up north from her native Georgia several years ago, to open her second lingerie store, here in New York.  She catered to a high-end clientele, but there was also the separate room down the back which was less to do silk and satin, and more about leather and latex.  It was one of those customers who had introduced Tiffany to the Slaughterhouse.  Since then, she had become a regular visitor.

Tiffany was more than a BDSM aficionado though.  She was also a wrestler and a catfighter.  For the past twenty years, she had fought in bars and clubs.  Some of her early fights had been impromptu encounters – girls she had angered or who had angered her – but she had soon graduated to fighting professionally in Atlanta’s underground fetish scene.

It was that combination – domination, submission and fighting – that brought her back to The Slaughterhouse, time and again.  The Slaughterhouse was more than just a BDSM club.  Women came here not just to see and be seen, meet and be met, claim and be claimed, but also – and perhaps more so – to watch and participate in the regular Friday night fights held there.  Tiffany was a regular and popular fighter.

The stakes in such fights were high.  There was prize money, but few women fought for the money.  Winning here was about prestige and honor, but more than that it was about making a public and humiliating example of the loser.  Losers were obliged to submit to the winner for the night, in the club’s basement dungeon, and the winner decided the limits.  Any of the club’s patrons was permitted to witness the loser’s degradation, and with the permission of the winner, could even join in.

In BDSM parlance, Tiffany was a switch – somebody who could be dominant or submissive, depending on the circumstances.  For some, it was about their own mood in that time and place, while others would Domme a certain type of woman and sub to others.  For Tiffany, it was a combination of all these things – how she felt and who she faced – and more.  Sounds, smells and textures all could sway her feelings, and she herself often didn’t know how she would react at any given time, and to whom. 

In a place like The Slaughterhouse, that added to the danger.  To Tiffany however, it was also an essential part of the thrill.  Tiffany loved the exultation of standing proudly over a beaten opponent, while the girl trembled on her knees and sobbed out her submission.  She loved what came after too, down in the dungeon as she reduced the loser to a pleading, quivering wretch.  Just as much though, she loved how it felt to be outmatched, overpowered, to surrender her will – and her body – to a strong, powerful woman.  She embraced defeat just as fervently as she delighted in victory.

She had not been to The Slaughterhouse so often lately, not since her fighting prowess had earned her the attention of the Society, the exclusive and secretive catfight club frequented by New York’s elite.  An opportunity to fight at a Society gathering was the dream of every fighter in the scene, and Tiffany’s invitation had earned her the jealousy, and the enmity, of many girls at The Slaughterhouse.

Tiffany had done well at the Society, fighting for the pleasure of the glitterati, but it also lacked something for her.  There were rules, limits that lessened the risk but at the same time, detracted from the excitement, at least in Tiffany’s mind.

Strangely enough, it was her most recent visit to the Society, albeit as a spectator, that had brought her back to The Slaughterhouse now.  That night, she had witnessed the Society’s long-time champion, coincidentally also named Tiffany, overwhelmingly defeated – no, destroyed was a more apt term.  She had not just been beaten, but degraded, defiled, used and abused by the victor in front of the entire crowd.

Watching, Tiffany had felt herself torn, not by any sympathy for the loser or admiration for the winner, but by a certain amount of envy for them both.  It had been those conflicting feelings that had led her, a week later, to call The Slaughterhouse and sign up for tonight’s fight.

She pressed the bell on the wall at the top of the stairs.  After a few moments, there was a buzzing noise.  She pushed at the dirt-streaked steel door, stepped inside and let it swing shut behind her.

The interior was dimly lit, though brighter than outside, and a whole lot warmer.  Tiffany immediately unzipped her jacket.  She stood in a small foyer, with a tiled floor and rough brick walls.  There was a counter immediately to her right and behind it, a woman in her forties perched on a stool.  She was dark-haired, slender but well-endowed, a fact that was more than highlighted by her clinging red leather dress, which was cut all the way down to her slim waist at the front, and held in place by thin crisscrossed straps over her bosom.

She wore no jewelry other than a slim red leather collar at her throat, with a gold medallion dangling from it.

Tiffany gave her a smile.  “Hey Frannie.”

The woman – Frannie – smiled back.  “Hey Tiff.”  Her strong New York accent was a distinct contrast to Tiffany’s own Deep South drawl.  “Haven’t seen you around for a while.”

“Things to see, people to do, sugah,” replied Tiffany with a laugh.  She put her purse down on the desk, shrugged off her jacket and handed it to Frannie, who slipped it onto a hanger and handed Tiffany a small paper tag in return.  “You need to see my membership card?” Tiffany called out as the older, smaller woman took her jacket into a back room.

“It’s fine, hon.” Frannie came back to the counter.  “So…you’re fighting tonight,” she said, and added in response to Tiffany’s unvoiced question, “Ms Danni told me.”

Danni Sutherland was the club’s owner and manager.  She was also Frannie’s Mistress.   “I’d better go talk to her.”

“She was behind the bar, last time I saw her.  Wait, I’ll buzz you in.”  Frannie reached under the desk and touched the switch that Tiffany knew was hidden there.  Another door, at the far end of the counter, buzzed and then clicked.

“Thanks, sugah.” Tiffany entered The Slaughterhouse itself.

The club was big, about the size of a basketball court, dimly lit with black-painted brick walls and a tiled floor like the foyer outside.  There was a small stage against the wall to Tiffany’s left, with a dance floor in front of it.  Music was playing, but not so loudly that it prevented easy conversation.  Booths punctuated the back wall, and tables with chairs sat at intervals around the room.  Probably three quarters of the booths and tables were already occupied, even though it was only just after ten o’clock.

The left-hand wall revealed the purpose of the club.  There were several iron rings set into the bricks at intervals, with manacles dangling by chains.  Halfway along the wall was a sturdy wooden X-frame, also with restraints at all four extremities.  A selection of canes, a riding crop or two and even a coiled whip hung from pegs.

The bar was close by, to Tiffany’s immediate right.  It wasn’t really a bar in the strictest sense.  Like most clubs of its kind, the Slaughterhouse was a dry house.  Alcohol and hardcore BDSM were a dangerous mixture, so the bar served only water, juices, sodas and other non-alcoholic drinks.  Tiffany didn’t mind a drink, but she had to hand it to The Slaughterhouse’s bartenders – they could do things with hot sauce, herbs and fruit juice that would make you swear you were drinking a real cocktail.

That was good, because Danni had a zero-tolerance policy for anyone who tried to sneak booze into the place.  The same was true for drugs.  There was a story, which had assumed the status of legend among the club’s members, that Danni had once found one of her staff dealing pills in the bathroom.  She had beaten the offender unconscious, thrown the naked, bleeding young woman down the outside stairs in the middle of a snowstorm, and threatened to kill her if she ever showed her face set in The Slaughterhouse again.

The bar was currently staffed by three women – a tall blonde in her early twenties, an equally tall, very slender but quite buxom redhead, and a shorter but even bustier Asian woman with short, jet-black hair.  All three were dressed in waist-cinching corsets over sheer black tea-length dresses that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.  All three were deliciously attractive, but none of them were Danni Sutherland.

Tiffany stepped up to the bar and ordered a seltzer with lime from the redhead.  “Is Danni around?”

The girl – she was probably in her mid- to late twenties – nodded toward the back of the room.  “She was here a minute ago,” she said in a New York accent that was softer than Frannie’s, “but she went back in her office.”

Tiffany nodded.  “I know the way.” She paid for her drink and carried it with her to the far end of the bar, where there was a door in the corner marked ‘Private’.  She knocked.

“Come in.”  Tiffany opened the door and stepped through.

Danni Sutherland was a powerfully built woman with a mass of curly, honey blonde hair that stood out around her head in a cloud.  She was an inch taller than Tiffany, though she was sitting behind her desk now, at a laptop computer, with a glass of what looked like cranberry juice at her elbow.  She didn’t stand when Tiffany entered, but smiled.  “Oh, hi Tiffany.”

“Hi Danni.  Just thought I’d stick my head in, to let you know I’m here.”

“Thanks honey, but with you I wasn’t worried about a no-show.  I knew you’d make it.” Danni leaned forward with her elbows on the desk.  The plunging neckline of her black dress showed a broad expanse of her impressive though enhanced cleavage.

“Gonna give me a hint about who I’m fighting?” asked Tiffany.

Danni gave her a stern look – or at least feigned one.  “You know the rules, girl.  You don’t know until you walk out to the ring.”  That was one way – but only one way – Danni wielded power here in The Slaughterhouse.  She chose the fighters and the matchups.  Nobody knew who they were up against, until it was too late to back out without humiliating themselves in the process.  Tiffany had never seen that happen, but she had heard – another rumor – that it had once occurred.  The girl in question hadn’t made it out of the room before she was captured, cuffed and claimed as a trophy.  A loss by default was still a loss by Slaughterhouse rules, and carried the same high price.

Tiffany grinned.  “Can’t blame a girl for trying, sugah.”

Danni laughed.  “Nice try.”  She winked.  “Trust me…you’ll enjoy what I’ve lined up for you.” Her face would have made a poker champion proud.

Tiffany walked back out into the club and took a seat at the end of the bar.  Now that she had announced her presence, she had some time to kill, and there was no better place to people-watch than The Slaughterhouse. Besides, it would help take her mind off the butterflies that invaded her stomach every time she walked in this place.

When Tiffany had entered, she had idly noticed a young woman, redheaded with an upturned nose and freckles, standing by one of the tables near the middle of the room, with an older Asian woman busy binding her petite torso with some intricate Japanese-style rope work.  Now that preparation had turned into the beginnings of a scene, as the Domme was now working on the redhead’s white t-shirt with a pair of scissors, gradually cutting it away between the ropes to expose the girl’s pale flesh.

While she had been in Danni’s office, another pair had claimed the X-frame on the far wall.  A slender strawberry-blonde was spread-eagled, naked, facing the wall.  Four red welts made a tic-tac-toe pattern on her back as a solidly built black woman worked on her with a willow cane.  Several onlookers were clustered around the pair and cheered as each stroke landed and the blonde shuddered.

Tiffany watched, but not too closely.  There was a risk in people watching here – hell, there was a risk in just about everything in The Slaughterhouse.  More than once, somebody who had come here to fight had made eye contact with the wrong woman in the wrong way, and had been taken and tamed before she ever stepped into the ring.

She took her time finishing her drink, as more people arrived at the club.  Most came in couples, some in groups, and a few singly.  Tiffany knew some of them by name and recognized a few more faces.  She had fought three of them before – two wins and a loss.  The wins had been memorable, and the memory of the loss sent a shiver up her spine, even now.  She wondered if she would be facing any of them again tonight.

Draining her glass, she slipped off her stool and made her way to the corner of the room diagonally opposite the entrance.  Here an archway led to a broad wooden staircase leading downward.  Tiffany descended to the first floor, and emerged into a space as big as the one upstairs.  This room however, seemed smaller, dominated by the full-size wrestling ring that stood diagonally in its center, dividing the remainder of the room into four triangles.  Lights illuminated the ring, throwing the rest of the room into shadow.  There were tables and booths here too, a few of them already occupied by those eager to get the best few of the fight to come.

Tiffany ignored them as she made her way around the left side of the ring, to where a heavy wooden door nestled in the space between two booths.  There was an identical door on the opposite side, and both led to dressing rooms for the fighters.  To her surprise, not to mention mild annoyance, the door was locked.  That meant her opponent had gotten here first.  She sighed as she turned away and retraced her steps around the ring to the other dressing room, doing her best to ignore the little knot of apprehension forming in her belly.  The left-hand room was always hers.  It wasn’t as though she was superstitious about such things, but it had worked for her more often than not.

She opened the other door.  The room beyond was in darkness, so she reached out and flipped the switch on the wall beside the door before she stepped through and closed it after her.  The room was so small she could have touched the opposite walls with her outstretched arms.  She dropped her purse on the table to the right, sat down on the padded stool and unzipped her boots.

It took her less than a minute to undress – first the boots, then her jacket, sweater, pants and finally the tight black tank top that constrained and supported her breasts.  A bra wasn’t an option, and nor was underwear, though Tiffany didn’t usually bother with underwear anyway. She wasn’t going to stand up there in the ring with lines on her flesh.  Having the audience on her side was a big part of the adrenalin rush that would give her the winning edge, and looking hot was a big part of audience appeal.

Not that was planning on going out there naked though – not at first, at least.  In eleven fights here, win and lose, she had never finished one yet where she was anything less than buck naked, but part of the show was to give the crowd a hint of mystery – even if it was just the barest hint.

She reached into her purse and found the single, neatly folded item that made up her ring attire.  It took her longer to dress than it had to undress, and she wondered with a wry grin to herself if her opponent would have her pretty much naked in just about the same amount of time.  She turned and gave herself a once-over in the full-length mirror that hung on the back of the door.

The garment – if it could even be called that – was a black body-stocking that reached from her throat to her ankles, with full-length sleeves that came all the way to her wrists.  Stirrups beneath the soles of her feet held the legs stretched out, and loops at the ends of the sleeves hooked over her middle fingers and did the same for the arms.  This kind of outfit was almost a uniform for fights in The Slaughterhouse.  The stocking fitted her entire body like a glove, as though it was painted onto her skin, and it was as sheer as any normal stocking, more so even than most.  Every sensuous detail of her body was revealed, not so much covered as merely tinted by the filmy fabric.  Dressed this way, she felt almost more naked than she did without it.  She smiled to herself.  The crowd would go nuts.

She gave a glance to her wristwatch as she slipped it into her purse and placed the purse, along with her clothes, into a metal locker in the corner.  Ten minutes to go.  She palmed the key – she would hand it to whoever came to collect her – and sat down to wait.  That was another part of the ritual.  Both fighters would wait until called, until one of the staff came to lead them out to the ring. 

It seemed like an eternity. The waiting, the wondering, was almost more harrowing than the fight itself – almost.  The butterflies grew stronger.  Who would she face tonight.  How would it go and how would it end?  Would she enjoy the spoils of victory, or would she be the spoils, herself despoiled?  She gave another shiver.

Finally, there was a knock on the door.   It was the voice of Danni herself who called out, “Show time, girl!”  Tiffany stood up, stretched one last time, and stepped outside into the arena.

The crowd had grown massively now.  It seemed that every booth was crammed full, every seat at every table taken.  Those nearest Tiffany, who could see her well despite the dim lighting, hooted and hollered as she emerged.  There were cheers and jeers, encouragements and lewd catcalls.  They were par for the course, and she ignored them as she traced her way between tables, toward the nearest corner of the ring, and climbed the steps that led up to the apron.

Danni had preceded her and stood now in the center of the ring.  As Tiffany swung her long leg over the middle rope and ducked into her corner, the club’s owner called out in a clear voice that did not need a microphone.  “Here’s our first contender for tonight, ladies!  You’ve all seen her fight before, so give it up for the Platinum Queen herself…Tiffany!”  There were more cheers and catcalls amid thunderous applause, though Tiffany took it all with a grain of salt.  They weren’t cheering for her.  They were baying for blood – figuratively at least.

She didn’t look at the crowd.  She didn’t even look at Danni.  She kept her eyes focused on the opposite corner of the ring, and more precisely on the shadows beyond that corner.  Who was waiting there, lurking there, about to emerge as her adversary?  Who would it be? How would it go down?  Would it be her opponent, or Tiffany herself, who went down in defeat, down to degradation?  The butterflies in her belly felt like eagles.

Danni too turned to face the opposite corner.  As the clamor died away, she went on,  “Going up against Tiffany tonight, is someone else who needs no introduction.  These two have faced each other before.” Tiffany’s heart skipped a beat at that, but she kept her face carefully impassive. “Put your hand together…for Robbi!”

Tiffany felt as though time had suddenly stopped as her about-to-be opponent stepped up onto the ring apron and into the light.  She had not laid eyes on Roberta Santos – known to everybody as Robbi – in almost six months.  When Tiffany had gotten the invitation to try out for the Society, she and Robbi had had a violent argument fueled, at least in Tiffany’s mind, by Robbi’s jealousy.  Tiffany had said as much, which of course hadn’t helped matters.  Robbi had stormed out and they hadn’t spoken since.

Before that though, they had had a close if tumultuous relationship, bitter enemies and fierce lovers at the same time.  It had all begun the first time they had fought, right here in this very arena.  Robbi had not only won that vicious fight, but had totally tamed Tiffany afterward in the club’s basement dungeon, and eventually collared her in the days that had followed. 

It had taken Tiffany three long, arduous months to win back her freedom, though she had eventually done so, again here in The Slaughterhouse, in a fight that had lasted almost two hours.  Two of the club’s staff had had to almost carry her home afterwards, and she hadn’t gotten out of bed for days.

Robbi had challenged her again, and again they had battled it out in public until neither had been able to stand.  Both battered, bleeding and barely conscious, they had been in no condition to object when Danni had called a halt to the fight.

Now here they stood again, facing each other across the ring for their fourth confrontation.  Robbi was shorter than Tiffany by two inches – five feet six – but slightly thicker-set so they were within a pound or two of one another, weight-wise.  Robbi’s thick, wavy hair fell past her shoulders, so dark a brown that it was almost black. 

Robby was dressed much like Tiffany in a sheer body stocking, but hers was red, long-sleeved but without legs, cut high over the sensuous swell of her hips.  Like Tiffany’s own, it left nothing at all to the imagination, offering the crowd an unimpeded view of Robbi’s hard, well-muscled body. 

The brunette had a bosom that that outdid Tiffany’s own, at least in terms of size.  Robbie was a 40DD and all-natural, compared to Tiffany’s 38Ds which had had some help from the surgeon a few years ago.  Tiffany was well acquainted with Robbi’s breasts.  She had held in in her hands, kissed them – worshipped them.  She found herself staring at her former lover’s hard, dark brown nipples, her tongue flicking across her lips at the memory of their touch, and hurriedly turned her mind to other things.

From the look in Robbi’s eyes, Tiffany could see she was just as surprised as Tiffany herself.  The grin on Danni’s face however, told Tiffany that the big blonde Domme had deliberately set up this fight.  She heard Danni’s voice in her head, from earlier in the office, …you’ll enjoy what I’ve lined up for you… She wasn’t at all sure ‘enjoy’ was the right word, but one thing was for sure – this was going to be epic.

Danni looked at each of them in turn.  “You’ve both done this before.  You both know the rules.”  Nevertheless, she repeated them for the sake of the crowd.  “Best of three rounds, each round decided by knockout, submission or – ” and here she stopped to grin, “ – forced orgasm.”  There was a raucous cheer from the audience at that.  Forced orgasms in the ring were a crowd favorite.  “No time limit on each round, and three minutes’ rest between rounds.”

Danni stepped backward and ducked between the ropes, onto the apron.  “All right then,” she said from the apron, “may the best woman win.”  She backed down the steps as Tiffany and Robbi advanced into the ring, eyes locked on one another.

CONTINUED BELOW...

[TheScribbler]

Tiffany could hold her own in a catfight, but pro wrestling was her style of choice and she began to circle her opponent, her right arm extended in readiness for the classic collar-and-elbow lockup.  There was a strong element of ritual in commencing a fight that way, and it appealed to something deep in Tiffany’s psyche.  She knew that Robbi had similar leanings to her own, and the busty brunette immediately reciprocated, raising her own arm, blood-red nails pointed at Tiffany.

The two antagonists described a precise half-circle in the middle of the ring before, as one, they twisted on one foot and came together, each with one hand on the nape of the other’s neck, the other hand grasping her opponent’s elbow.  Tiffany strained against the brunette’s hold, keeping a wary eye on the other woman’s legs.  Robbi wasn’t above sending a kick or a knee into her belly or groin.  She tried to tear herself free, but Robbi hadn’t grown any softer since their last meeting, and it was like tearing at steel.

She switched tactics and instead began to push against Robbi, trying to force the shorter woman backward, onto the ropes or into the corner.  Again, it was like pushing against solid rock, but Tiffany persisted.  Anything she could do to wear her opponent down, to tire her, to weaken her, was worth it.  This was a marathon, not a sprint.

Robbi took a sudden step backwards and Tiffany, still locked up and momentarily unbalanced, stumbled a step forwards.  At the same moment, the brunette released Tiffany’s right arm, ducked and darted forward to Tiffany’s left and came up behind the blonde.  Before Tiffany’s cry of surprise and exasperation had left her lips, her enemy was twisting her left arm up behind her into a hammerlock.

This wasn’t Tiffany’s first rodeo though, and she twisted rapidly to her right, firing her crooked arm blindly backwards at the brunette.  She felt a satisfying impact as her elbow struck soft flesh, and she need to hear the sharp grunt from Robbi to know her blow had struck hard.  Robbi’s grip on her arm faltered and she stepped forward to freedom, but not before she felt the sharp nails of Robbi’s left hand rake diagonally downward across her chest.

As Tiffany broke away and turned to face her opponent again, she spared an instant to glance downward.  The four crimson tracks that marked her flesh from her right shoulder to the left side of her ribs were only faint and the skin was unbroken, but the thin fabric of her body stocking hung in shreds, her breasts bare.  Her hard nipples smarted where her adversary’s talons had dragged across them.  She turned her eyes to Robbi again and snarled, “Bitch!”

Robbi smiled a cold smile.  “We’ll see who’s the bitch when this is over.” She went into a half crouch and came at Tiffany again in a quick, darting lunge, arms wide.  Tiffany dropped even lower though and instead of Robbi’s shoulder hammering into her ribs and driving her backward into the ropes, the brunette’s body folded forward over Tiffany’s back.  Tiffany let out a loud “Ha!” of triumphant glee as she surged to her feet, her own shoulder driving deep into Robbi’s hard abs.  Robbi gave a maddened shriek as her feet left the canvas and she flew bodily over Tiffany’s head, long legs flailing wildly, to crash down hard on her back.

Tiffany was already spinning on the ball of her foot as Robbi was still in mid-air.  At the instant the brunette’s back hit the canvas, she leapt, landing on her knees astride Robbi’s shoulders, her shins pinning her enemy’s arms.  Robbi roared in anger, twisting her shoulders violently to break free, kicking her legs upward, even stretching her neck up to snap viciously at Tiffany’s crotch with her teeth.

“You got cocky, sugah!” Tiffany taunted her, rising up on her knees to keep her loins out of Robbi’s reach, then an explosive “UNNNGGGHHH!’ erupted from her chest as Robbi’s savage knee thudded into her belly.  The blow almost knocked her over backwards but she managed to keep herself upright and whipped an arm underneath her enemy’s knee, lifting it up high as Robbi roared, cursed and thrashed beneath her.

“Get off me, you cxnt!” the brunette spat savagely.  “I’ll fucking DESTROY you!”  She rammed her other knee upward but Tiffany swung sideways and deftly hooked her opponent’s other leg, tucking it under her armpit as Robbi howled in frustrated fury.

“Not with moves like that, sugah!” Tiffany laughed out loud.  She couldn’t believe her luck.  Was it really going to be this easy?  Was her former Mistress so eager to defeat and collar her again that she’d forgotten even the most basic principles of wrestling?  She jerked Robbi’s legs up higher, until only the brunette’s head and shoulders were on the floor, her body inverted and vertical, breasts pressed against Tiffany’s belly, trapped in a reverse matchbook pin.

Robbi struggled, squirming in Tiffany’s grasp, but the blonde’s powerful arms held her tight.  “Just hold still, sugah…this isn’t gonna hurt anything but your pride!” laughed Tiffany.  She dipped her head and thrust her face into Robbi’s defenseless loins.  The brunette screamed and thrashed in savage desperation. 

Tiffany opened her mouth wide, then brought her teeth together, taking a firm grip on the thin cloth of Robbi’s body stocking.  She jerked her head back, twisting it to the side as she did so, and there was a staccato ripping sound as she tore the crotch out of her enemy’s diaphanous costume.  Arching her back and pointing her face to the sky, she spat the scrap of cloth into the air where it fluttered slowly to the canvas a few feet away.  The crowd howled their approval – they loved an extravagant gesture.

“Let’s see how good your stamina is, huh?” Tiffany bent her body forward once more and her long pink tongue emerged to lap the length of Robbi’s flushed sex.  “Oh, you’re wet already, sugah!” she called out loudly.  There were more cheers and laughter from the crowd.  Robbi growled balefully from beneath her haunches.  As Tiffany’s tongue probed between her nether lips, she writhed and bucked in impotent anger, cursing heatedly and almost but not quite wrenching one leg free.

“I told you to hold STILL!” Tiffany barked with an edge of steel in her tone – her Command Voice.  She felt Robbi stiffen and go still for a moment, before the brunette snarled and her thrashing redoubled.  “Looks like you need some help!” She reached down, slid her hand into the cleft between Robbi’s taut, bronzed buttocks, and jabbed a finger, then two, into the puckered rosette of her enemy’s ass.

Robbi shrieked with futile fury and bucked even harder, but just once, before Tiffany curled her fingers and the feel of the blonde’s nails against her inner walls stilled Robbi’s struggles.  “There ya go, sugah!” Tiffany mocked her.  “See?  You don’t wanna hurt yourself now, do ya?” 

“It’s gonna feel so good…” Her voice became muffled as her tongue wormed its way between Robbi’s pussy lips and slid smoothly into the moist tunnel of her sex.  “Damn humiliating, for sure…forced to cum in the ring in front of God an’ everybody…but darn good all the same.” 

She relished the groan that came from below her – equal parts anger, frustration, humiliation and burgeoning lust.  “You…nnnggghhh…BITCH!

Tiffany laughed into her enemy’s pussy.  Withdrawing her tongue for a moment, she replied, “What was that you said earlier?  We’ll see who’s the bitch?  Well, I reckon we know the answer to that one, huh?” Her tongue flicked out again, this time flicking across the swollen pink head of Robbi’s clit as it poked impudently from its sheltering hood.  Robbi shuddered and her groan grew louder as the lust swelled within her.  Her ass clenched tight around Tiffany’s fingers and her body shuddered in the blonde’s implacable grip.

“I’m gonna enjoy this just as much as you are, sugah.” Tiffany smiled into her ex-lover’s pussy as she swirled her tongue around Robbi’s clit yet again.  Robbi bucked again, but involuntarily this time as the pleasure overcame her self-control.  Her outstretched arms twitched underneath Tiffany’s pinning legs, fists clenched tight against the insidious arousal.

It was only a matter of time, Tiffany knew.  Robbi wasn’t going anywhere.  She had the bitch pinned, good and proper.  That didn’t mean she had to rush things though.  She was going to make Robbi’s humiliation last, to milk the greatest effect from it, both physically and psychologically.  She knew only too well what a long, hard climax could do – what it could take out of a fighter.  This was only the first of three falls and she wanted to make sure tht Robbi was seriously weakened, physically and emotionally, for the remainder of the fight.

She sucked Robbi’s clit hard, drawing a long, quavering moan from her trapped victim.  Her tongue lapped once more at the hot, slick head of it.  She moaned softly with her own pleasure as she tasted her enemy’s lust.  The adrenalin welled up within her – as did the arousal – as she tasted her own power over the woman who had once enslaved her.  Revenge was, indeed, sweet.

Moving her head slightly, grinding her chin against Robbi’s clit, she slid her tongue slowly down the length of the brunette’s now-sopping labia, until she reached her enemy’s entrance and stabbed her tongue deep inside.  Robbi gasped aloud, bucked and trembled, the hard muscles of her thighs twitching and quivering in Tiffany’s arms.  Tiffany withdrew, circling the twitching tunnel with her tongue, teasing Robbi before thrusting her tongue inside again, wiggling her jaw as she did so, working the other woman’s flesh, playing her like a musical instrument as Robbi’s moans and cries grew louder and more urgent.  “Oh…OH!...FUCK…me…”

Tiffany didn’t know if that was an exclamation or an exhortation, but she smiled inwardly as she brought her enemy closer and closer, by the most circuitous and tortuous route she could manage, to a shuddering, all-consuming climax.  She wanted the bitch all used up, fucked senseless, so that three minutes would be nowhere near enough for her to recover – not three minutes, not three hours or even three days.  In her mind’s eye, she foresaw the collar she would fasten around Robbi’s neck after she had broken the bitch.  That thought made her own loins clench tight with fierce desire.

She drew out the moment as long as she could, as Robbi’s cries grew more frantic, as the brunette’s body writhed and bucked not from a desire to fight back or to get away now, but from an even more urgent, more primal instinct.  Robbi wailed in anguished ecstasy, louder and higher-pitched until she drowned out the cheering, hooting audience and came at last in a squirting cataclysm of lust.

Tiffany released Robbi’s legs and the brunette collapsed on the canvas, limbs twitching, bathed in sweat, her massive chest rising and falling as she gasped for breath.  She did not move as Tiffany slowly climbed off her, rose and backed away into her corner of the ring.  The blonde stood there smiling at her fallen foe, wracked and ravaged, quivering on the canvas. 

There was no clock visible but she judged it must have been at least halfway through the three-minute interval before Robbi rolled laboriously onto her belly, clambered to all fours and crawled ponderously to her own corner.  Only when she got there did she lever herself to her feet.  She turned, leaning back against the turnbuckles, her chest still heaving as she glared at Tiffany across the ring, through her tousled hair with hatred in her eyes. 

Tiffany met her gaze with a wink, tilted her chin up and called out, “Sure you don’t wanna save yourself some pain and just kneel now, sugah?”

Robbi’s face was thunderous.  “Bring it, bitch!” she spat, fists clenched.

Just then a bell rang out for the start of the second fall, interrupting their altercation.  As the brunette stepped out into the ring once more though, she hissed, “You’re gonna pay for that, girl…pay dearly.  I’ll make you suffer like you’re never dreamed.”

“It’s you that’s dreaming, sugah!” Tiffany laughed at her former Mistress.  “Next fall and you’re gonna be on your knees and sucking my toes…just for starters.”

Robbi growled and threw herself forward.  Tiffany reciprocated, arms out.  She knew she could match her opponent virtually pound for pound and was at least as strong as the brunette too.  In a head-on clash it would be a matter of sheer willpower and tenacity, and she knew she had both of those in abundance.  She could already feel the bitch’s tongue on her clit.

When they were no more than two strides apart, Robbi suddenly planted her front foot firmly and abruptly arrested her forward momentum.  Surprised, Tiffany instinctively tried to do the same, but she was moving at full speed, committed to the charge.  No matter, she thought.  Without the impetus of her own rush behind her, Robbi would be an even easier target.  She’d have the bitch on her back, or at least on the ropes, in a matter of moments.

Robbi had other ideas.  An instant before Tiffany cannoned into her, she threw her arms up and seized the blonde by the hair, throwing herself backward as she did so.  Already at full charge, Tiffany found herself jerked forward even harder.  Her yelp of surprise turned into a breathless grunt as her enemy raised a foot and drove it hard into her belly, then into a louder cry of anguished fury as Robbi monkey-flipped her by the hair, over her head.

The brunette had timed her halt with diabolical precision and rather than crashing to the canvas on her back – which would have been bad enough – Tiffany instead slammed down onto the top rope on the opposite side of the ring.  The heavy rope caught her across the small of her back, arching her spine agonizingly as it reluctantly gave under her weight.  Then, as Robbi released her grip on Tiffany’s hair, the rope sprang back and propelled the blonde upward again, out of the ring to the wooden floor three feet below.

She landed hard, thankfully between two tables.  Her outflung arms cushioned a little of the impact but still she hit hard on her chest, painfully pancaking her breasts against her ribs as she skidded several feet across the floor.  For a moment she lay there, groaning as she tried to gather her shattered wits. 

Part of wanted to lay there a few moments, to catch her breath and recover.  Robbi couldn’t touch her if she was out of the ring.  That was a club rule.  Another part of her however, remembered another club rule.  While Robbi couldn’t touch her, anyone else in the room could.  A fighter flung out of the ring was fair game for the audience.  She had to get up, get back in the ring, face this bitch and beat her.

With a fierce grunt she shoved herself up onto all fours, then grabbed a chair-back to pull herself to her feet.  Somebody grabbed her ass and, twisting her body savagely out of the way, batted the hand aside.  While she was distracted by that assault, somebody else reached up, grabbed her right nipple and twisted it all the way to eleven.  Tiffany screamed in pain and rage, whirled around and back-fisted the offender – a stocky brunette with a massive bosom – across the face, knocking her backward over a chair.

Other hands reached out, other bodies blocked her path, and she was forced to fight her way back to the ring.  By the time she reached the apron, the already torn and dangling front of her body stocking had been ripped away and one sleeve had been shredded as someone had tried to grab her arm and pull her back.

Robbi stood in the middle of the ring, laughing. “What kept you, sugah?” she taunted.  “For a moment there, I thought you were going to blow me off and go straight to being the crowd’s bitch!” She pitched her words loudly enough for the whole room to hear.  There was laughter from the audience.

Tiffany reddened, fists clenched.  “It’s long past time for me to shut you up, bitch!” she snarled.  She reached up and grabbed the top rope, jerking it down hard so she could use the bounce-back to boost herself up onto the apron.  It was not only a flamboyant move that the watching crowd would love, but it was also the most effective way to get back up to the ring without unduly exposing herself.

Not unduly exposing herself did not mean not exposing herself at all however.  She knew that – and so did her opponent.  Robbi let out a gleeful cry just as Tiffany reached up highest, and as the blonde yanked the rope downward, she threw herself at Tiffany, leaping into the air and hitting the rope with her chest  just as Tiffany pulled it lowest, her own body bent, tensed in anticipation of the bounce that would lift her onto the apron.  Robbi’s fingers seized her by the hair again, pushing her down further, almost slamming her face into the hard edge of the apron.  Then, as the ropes bounced back, both women were flung rapidly upward.

Tiffany shrieked like a banshee as she was jerked off her feet by the hair for the second time in as many minutes.  Her body described a whirling arc of bronzed flesh, almost the exact opposite of the path she had taken before, to hit the canvas on the base of her spine, so hard that she bounced.  A lance of pain shot up her spine and exploded in her brain. She sat bolt upright for a moment, then fell back on the canvas.  Tears erupted from her tightly closed eyes, though her mouth was wide open, teeth bared in a rictus of agony.

Robbi had gone down on her back too, but had landed with far less impact and much more control.  Tiffany was still writhing in the middle of the ring when she rolled over and sprang.  Grabbing a wrist and an ankle, she pulled Tiffany over onto her side and thrust her foot into the small of the blonde’s back.  Before Tiffany even realized what was happening, her adversary had her in a bow-and-arrow hold and was pouring on the pressure, adding to the pain already wracking Tiffany’s twisted body.

“I told you...you’d pay…” growled Robbi, through clenched teeth.  “Scream for me, bitch…scream for me!” She shoved harder with her foot, pulled harder with both hands.

Tiffany bit her lip hard to keep from crying out loud at the agony in her spine.  Even so, she could not stifle a plaintive groan.  She flailed her free arm desperately behind her, trying for some kind of purchase on Robbi’s arm, some way to break the hold, but Robbi was no novice and kept well out of her way.  Tiffany threw her head back, grinding her teeth, tears of pain streaming down her cheeks.

“Give it up, bitch!” snarled Robbi.  “Let me hear you submit!  Let me hear you BEG!”

Tiffany kept her silence.  Awash in a sea of pain, she wanted to obey, wanted to cry out her surrender, but she wouldn’t give this bitch – not this bitch – the satisfaction.  Her anguished groan forced its way out through her parched lips, the fire in her spine make her feel almost light-headed, but still she held her tongue.

“GIVE IT UP!!!” Robbi roared again.  “UGGGHHH!!! Stubborn cxnt!” She let go of Tiffany and the battered blonde rolled over onto her belly, pushing up on one elbow, bare breasts heaving as she gasped for breath.

Robbi rose up on her knees behind Tiffany.  “You’ll submit to me…eventually.” She lashed out with a vicious slap to the cheek, whipping Tiffany’s head to one side and sending her sprawling face-down on the canvas in a spray of spittle.  Her tormentor yanked her up by the hair and slapped her a second time, even harder.

Tiffany’s head was ringing from the savage blows.  She knew she had to get away, to break free and put some distance between her and Robbi, to give herself a chance to recover.  She was far from spent, but she needed some respite – just a little – to recoup her strength.

She gasped again as Robbi wrenched her head up a third time, and steeled herself for another slap.  It didn’t come however.  Instead, Robbi held her arched as she reached down with her other hand and stabbed her steepled fingers between the blonde’s half-spread legs.  Tiffany tensed and cried out, trying to draw her knees up, get her legs under her and scramble away, but Robbi rammed a knee into the base of her spine.  “Stay still, SKANK!”

Tiffany squirmed under Robbi’s knee, but she could not worm her way free.  She shrieked in horrified expectation as the brunette’s clawed fingers tore effortlessly through the gossamer fabric that covered her crotch, thrashing in a frantic but futile attempt to escape what she knew was coming.  “No!  NO!!!”

Robbi laughed evilly.  “Oh yes, bitch!  You had your chance to give it up easy.  Now we’re gonna do this the hard way.”  Tiffany screamed again as her enemy’s fingers thrust roughly into her crotch, “Oh, the bitch is all wet!” spreading her nether lips wide, “You’ll be wetter still by the time I’m done with you!” and plunged deep inside her pussy.  Tiffany’s scream turned into an ear-splitting wail of anguish.

“Ready to give it up yet?” mocked Robbi. She curled her fingers a little.  Tiffany groaned in helpless misery.  Her clenched fist pounded the canvas.  “No? Well then…”  She yanked even harder on the blonde’s thick platinum tresses, arching Tiffany’s head and chest up off the floor of the ring. 

Tiffany ground her teeth even harder, then shuddered with awful anticipation as she felt Robbi’s thumb push upward, between her tight, bronzed butt cheeks, to wiggle against the puckered rosette of her anus.  “You…BITCH…” Her voice was a quavering gasp.  She clenched her muscles tight against the insidious pressure but Robbi was relentless, and it was only a few moments before the brunette’s thumb slid past her failing defenses and into her ass.

Robbi leaned in and hissed in her ear, “Now I’m gonna give you one last chance…give it up now, or else.”

“Or else…what?” gasped Tiffany, still defiant.  “Or you’ll make me cum in the ring, just like I did to you?”

Robbi gave a dismissive snort.  “You think this is about making you cum?  About pleasure?” She laughed mirthlessly.  “Think again, girl.” She curled her fingers further and her thumb too, pinching the flesh between Tiffany’s pussy and ass, the feared bowling ball hold that would have been illegal in any ordinary fight – but this was The Slaughterhouse.

Tiffany went rigid, her eyes wide open just like her mouth.  “Ohhh….GAWDDD!!!” she howled at the top of her voice.  Her nails dug into her palms so hard she thought she would make herself bleed.  “All right!  ALL RIGHT!!! I GIVE!  I GIVE!!!”

Robbi kept up the pinch for another few seconds to make her point abundantly clear, before she pulled her hand roughly out of Tiffany’s crotch and stood up, leaving the blonde gasping, sweating and trembling, face down on the canvas.  The crowd cheered and screamed their approval.  Tiffany’s hanging hair obscured her view but she didn’t need to see to know that Robbi was strutting back to her corner, arms raised in triumph.  She clenched her fists again in fury.

She was determined not to crawl, not to look like Robbi had done after the first fall.  She pushed up onto her knees, then placed both hands on one knee to lever herself laboriously to her feet.  She stood there for a moment, taking several deep breaths, before she walked slowly to her own corner, doing her best not to stumble.  Her back and neck were on fire, as was her scalp, but she kept her face calm, masking her suffering behind a Mona Lisa smile.

All too soon the bell rang again, to signal the start of the third and final fall.  Tiffany fought off a shudder as thought leapt unbidden into her mind – for whom the bell tolls.  She pushed it aside and strode out into the ring, arms loose, knees slightly bent in a fighter’s crouch.  The butterflies in her stomach had turned to demons that gnawed at her mind as well as her belly.  She had to win this fight.  She couldn’t let Robbi take her again – not like before. 

Robbi also advanced, confidently, with a Cheshire cat smile on her face.  As she came within a few feet of Tiffany, she threw her arms out and lunged, ready to lock up again.  Tiffany also flung her arms up but not to grab Robbi’s hands.  Instead she knocked the other woman’s forearms away with her own and slammed her body into Robbi’s, halting her opponent’s charge and knocking her back a step.

Face twisted in fury, Robbi threw herself forward again, but this time instead of grabbing at Tiffany with her arms, she stomped her right foot down hard on Tiffany’s left instep.  The blonde howled and hunched over, favoring that leg. 

Distracted, hobbling, Tiffany didn’t see her enemy’s fist driving upward until it was too late.  The blow caught her under the chin, snapped her head back and sent her reeling across the ring and into the opposite ropes.

Fighting through the pain in her foot, she used the ropes as a spring to bounce herself back into the middle of the ring, meeting Robbi’s follow-up charge head-on.  Robbi dropped a shoulder, aiming at Tiffany’s midriff, but the blonde whirled to her right, growling through gritted teeth at the pain it cost her, and her knee rammed up into Robbi’s belly as her enemy stumbled past her.

The impact knocked Robbi off course and she staggered across the ring to fetch up against a turnbuckle, holding her belly.  White-hot anger blazed in her dark eyes, but her face was pinched tight with pain.  ‘You…bitch…’ she gasped, ‘…are gonna pay dearly for that.”

“Talk’s cheap, sugah!” hissed Tiffany as she threw herself across the ring, aiming to body-splash the brunette into the turnbuckle and crush the fight out of her with her own body.  She could already taste the thrill of defeat – could already feel the touch of Robbi’s tongue on her pussy as her one-time Mistress humbled herself in front of the entire club.

She dropped her shoulder, bracing herself to drive it hard into Robbi’s chest, but at the last possible instant, the brunette ducked and whirled, and it was Tiffany herself who slammed chest-first into the turnbuckle with a loud “NNNGGGUUUHHH!!!”

Startled but far from stunned, she grabbed the top rope with both hands and shoved herself backwards out of the corner, only to feel her enemy’s hard fist ram into her side just below her ribs.  “OOFFF!!!” The air rushed out of her lungs as pain lanced through her chest.  Before she could even bring her arm down to shield herself, Robbi grabbed a handful of her platinum hair, ripped her head back and then drove it forward again, slamming her face into the unyielding turnbuckle.

This time, Tiffany saw stars.  She shook her head violently to clear the dark, dancing dots from before her eyes.  Grabbing the top rope with both hands, she shoved herself back but before she could turn around, Robbi grabbed her by the hair, spun her around and drove a knee up into her abs.

Tiffany gagged and doubled over, almost retching from the pain that surged through her.  Her knees buckled and she would have fallen if Robbi’s knee hadn’t rammed upward again, crushing her left breast into her ribs and lifting her up on her toes.  She had no breath to cry out, but her mouth opened wide in silent agony,

Robbi reared up on her own toes, over the bent-over blonde, raised her arms and sent a double axe-handle chop into the back of Tiffany’s neck, which drove the blonde to her knees so hard that her face slammed into the ring floor with a force almost made her black out.  Darkness danced at the edges of her already blurred vision, and she hung there on all fours, clinging to consciousness with a desperation born out of fear.  She knew what was in store for her if she lost this fall.  Woven within that fear however, was a perverse excitement that sent a tremor through the deepest places within her.

“Look at you…on your knees where you belong!” sneered Robbi.  She raised a foot and stomped it down between Tiffany’s shoulders.  The blonde’s arms gave out and she collapsed to the canvas, pain lancing through her as the impact crushed her big round breasts beneath her.  She groaned in anguish.

Robbi bent at the knees and shoved both hands into Tiffany’s tangled hair.  ‘Get up, bitch!” he heaved and forced Tiffany up onto her knees.  She did her best to get her hands up, to grab at Robbi’s wrists, to lessen the pressure and pain on her scalp, but her arms felt like lead – lead that was rapidly heating up, pouring into her belly like lava, fueling the dark fires that were already kindling there.

She tried to push those feelings away, to focus her mind on the fight, but Robbi gave her no time, running her across the ring by her hair, doubled over and fighting frantically just to stay on her feet.  She halted abruptly a few paces from the far side, flinging Tiffany forward, sending her spearing head-first between the top and middle ropes, out of the ring and into crowd once more.

Tiffany threw her arms out and managed to grab the middle rope, arresting her progress.  Her momentum stretched the rope outward until she hung precariously for a moment, balanced on her arms, over the waist-high drop with her feet still in the ring, before the rope sprang back, pulling Tiffany back with it, leaving her on her knees, the rope across the lower edge of her ribs, beneath her breasts.

With a whoop of triumphant malice, Robbi leapt on her, landing with her firm butt in the small of Tiffany’s back, collapsing her knees, knocking her downward against the bottom rope.  Tiffany shivered, then shuddered at the insidious kiss of the thick braided nylon, scraping harshly across her skin.  Ropes were her weakness.  The very touch of them against her skin seemed to sap her strength and her will to resist, turning her from the warrior Platinum Queen into someone – something – very different.

Robbi knew her well, and so Robbi knew that too.  She leaned forward, one hand shoved hard between Tiffany’s shoulders.  The other reached over the blonde’s shoulder, grabbed the bottom rope and yanked it upwards hard, pulling it back over Tiffany’s head, behind her shoulders, then letting go, letting it snap back, leaving Tiffany trapped.

The brunette stood up and laughed cruelly.  “Now you’re where you really belong!  Not just on your knees, but trapped and tied up on your knees!” There were more cheers from the crowd.

Tiffany struggled against the ropes, wriggling her shoulders, trying get enough leverage to push the middle rope down, to give herself room to escape, but her frantic movements only made the ropes scratch even more against her back, her ribs, her breasts.  She shuddered again as the weakness grew in her arms and legs, and her loins began to tingle.  “Oh…fuck,” she muttered under her breath.  This had just gone from bad to – well, worse than worse.

Robbi dropped to one knee behind her, and Tiffany yelped as her enemy slapped her hard on the right cheek of her ass, rocking her forward in the ropes.  She hardly had time to feel the sting of that slap before Robbi struck her again, this time on the left ass cheek, rocking her forward again and dragging a groan from her dry, parted lips.

“You know where the third one’s going,” Robbi teased her, “…don’t you?”

Tiffany shuddered yet again, and tensed herself.  She knew only too well where the next blow would land – she knew Robbi only too well – but it still drew a plaintive moan from her heaving chest when her former Mistress’s hand slapped her hard on her nether lips, almost but not quite on her rapidly swelling clit.  She bit her lip hard, but the pain – now – had the exact opposite effect to that which she intended.  Her lips trembled.

Robbi trailed her fingertips over Tiffany’s smarting ass cheeks as the blonde clenched her fists and trembled helplessly in the grip of the ropes.  Then she yelped again as her enemy slapped her butt hard.  The yelp turned to a groan, and the trembling only increased when Robbi stroked a gentle – horrifyingly gentle – finger along the length of her exposed sex, from just below her clit, over the entrance to her pussy, twitching in terrible anticipation, and up the cleft of her buttocks to caress the tight-clenched rosebud of her anus.  She moaned, closing her eyes, quivering.

She jumped at another touch, more so because this one was unexpected.  Her eyes opened wide, to see two women standing before her, on the floor outside the ring.  They were both blonde, pale-skinned, equal in height and identical in every way.  Even if her mind wasn’t fogged with pain, with fear at her current predicament and, if she were honest, with desire at what was no doubt in store for her at Robbi’s hands, Tiffany would still have had trouble telling them apart.

Tiffany knew who they were – Hope and Faith, the ‘alabaster twins’ as they were known for their milky white complexions.  They were indeed twin sisters, regulars here at The Slaughterhouse.  Both were subs but vicious, nasty little subs who enjoyed preying on anyone who was already weakened or in trouble.  They were bottom-feeders, and Tiffany would never normally have given them a second glance, but now – she stared into their unreadable eyes.

They were dressed identically too, in black leather outfits – short skirts, high heels, tight corsets and bustiers that hugged their modest bosoms.  They even wore matching collars in black leather with silver trim – whose, Tiffany didn’t know since she never paid the twins much attention – with a thin silver chain that coffled them together.  As one, they stepped forward, reached out and grasped each of Tiffany’s swaying breasts, each with hand, squeezing them firmly, pinching her hard nipples, rolling them between finger and thumb.

Anger welled up in Tiffany and she shook herself violently.  How dare these two bimbos touch her, let alone fondle her brazenly like she was a piece of fresh meat!  She slapped hard at their invading hands but they simply grabbed an arm each, stretching them out along the ropes with one hand while continuing to fondle her breasts with the other.

Tiffany’s struggles again made the restraining ropes rub harder against her bare flesh, sending darkly delicious sensations coursing through her – just as Robbi’s fingers parted her pussy lips from behind.  Tiffany threw back her head and screamed, though she was far from sure whether it was frustrated anger or burgeoning desire.  “You BITCHES!  Get off me!  I’m still in the damn ring!”

The twins ignored her and continued groping her brazenly, but Robbi laughed out loud.  “Your tits are outside the ropes, bitch…so it’s open season on them.  Your pussy and your ass are inside though…” The tone of her voice changed ominously.  “…and your ass is mine.” The brunette’s thumb pressed against her puckered ass with menacing promise. 

Tiffany writhed in desperate despair.  The ropes sawed insidiously at the sensitive undersides of her breasts.  The twins squeezed the bouncing orbs, stroked them, tugged at her rock-hard nipples.  Robbi’s fingers spread her nether lips wider, opening her up to a third finger which stroked between them, sliding slowly but inexorably upward until it found the head of her already swollen clit. 

She bucked, reflexively and convulsively, at that first contact.  A long, quavering moan escaped her lips, which were parched and desert-dry, unlike her other lips.  Her tongue flicked across them, her eyes wide, staring out at the baying crowd as they witnessed her humiliation.

Robbi slipped two fingers inside her.  She groaned and shuddered as they slid in easily.  Her stretched-out abs quivered as her inner muscles clenched tight on her enemy’s – her victorious enemy now, she knew with awful certainty – thrusting fingers.  Tiffany wailed in desolation.  This was going to be bad.  She knew Robbi only too well.

“Now, bitch…it’s time for some payback,” Robbi purred, as she slid a third finger with equal ease into Tiffany’s now-drooling pussy.  Tiffany gasped as a tremor traveled through her, shaking her body hard in the restraining ropes and causing another shiver of treacherous lust.  She groaned.  Her frantic motions took on a different tone, as her body began to betray her, no longer struggling to escape but now beginning to squirm wantonly on Robbi’s thrusting, stroking, hideously pleasurable fingers.

Robbi grabbed her hair, wrenching her head back viciously.  “You’re gonna cum for me, bitch…come for me hard,” she sneered, “and all these people are gonna see you surrender…see your fall...see your shame.”

Tiffany sobbed at the certainty in those words as she stared at the onlookers, red-faced and tearful.  Robbi hauled harder on her hair, arching her back, shoving her chest forward into the ropes.  She was trapped – powerless, weak, at Robbi’s mercy – and that thought only made the fires of lust in her belly flare hotter.  Her breasts thrust outward, and the twins stepped closer, still moving in unison, to take her painfully erect nipples in their mouths, lapping, sucking, nibbling them, mocking her with the pleasure they were giving her.  Her entire body shook with a shameful spasm.

“No you don’t, bitch!” snarled Robbi.  She jabbed her thumb cruelly into Tiffany’s ass and the beaten blonde yelped.  “Not until I tell you you can!”  Tiffany shuddered and sobbed.  “Not until you beg me to let you!”

Tiffany’s breath was coming in short, panting gasps by now.  A voice in her head, the voice of her fighting spirit, screamed at her to tell the bitch to go to hell, to go fuck herself, but that voice was growing gradually more desperate as the flames licked higher within her, as the pounding of her heart grew louder, harder, until she could feel it in her aching nipples, her throbbing clit, her needful, twitching pussy.  She ground her teeth, trying to choke back the words, but with a final sob of despair she cried out, “Please….please let me cum!  PLEASE!!!”  Her tears flowed freely.

The crowd cheered wildly.  Robbi laughed.  “That’s it!  Now cum for me, princess,” she made the word an insult.  “Cum for me like the slut you are!”

And Tiffany did.  The flood gates flew open wide and she climaxed in a howling frenzy of depraved desire, bucking her hips on Robbi’s fingers, driving them ever deeper inside her, thrashing so hard in the ropes that the ring posts themselves shook violently.  Eyes closed, mouth open, body shaking like a leaf, she surrendered herself utterly to Robbi, to the crowd, to the pleasure, to the shame.

It was a long time later when she regained enough of her self to think again.  She hung in the ropes.  Her knees had collapsed, her head hung low, her crimson face hidden by the curtain of her tangled, sweat-soaked hair.  Robbi’s fingers had left her pussy now but still her insides twitched with the memory of them.  She quivered like an over-stretched cord – her mind was numb, her spirit was exhausted, but her body still craved more.

“Well now…wasn’t that just spectacular?” chuckled Robbi.  She pushed down on Tiffany’s back.  The blonde trembled at her touch as she unwrapped the ropes from around Tiffany’s torso.  “And that climax wasn’t the climax…not by a long shot,” she added threateningly.  The awful prescience in those words dragged a plaintive sob from Tiffany.

She stood up, hauling Tiffany up with her by her bedraggled hair, and walked over to the nearest corner.  There she yanked the still-shaking blonde around and shoved her back against the turnbuckles.  Tiffany hung there, gasping like a fish out of water, sagging against the ropes. 

Robbi slapped her hard on her left breast, bouncing it against its twin.  Tiffany didn’t have the strength to yelp.  It was all she could do to gasp.  She didn’t even do that when Robbi backhanded her again across the right breast, though she did groan when the triumphant Domme smacked her between her legs.  Her head lolled.  Robbi yanked her up, slapped her face and stared into her defeated eyes.  “Nice try, bitch…but not good enough.”

She let Tiffany’s head fall, and reached down to the ring apron.  There was a small duffel bag there.  Tiffany didn’t know how it had gotten there – presumably somebody had brought it there at the end of the fight.   Robbi reached inside and pulled out a coiled length of black rope.  Tiffany’s eyes widened and she shivered anew.  Robbi knew her only too well.

“Not nylon…this is silk,” said Robbi.  She brushed the coil softly against Tiffany’s breasts.  The blonde bit her lip as she hung in the corner.  “Soft…lovely…silk.” The touch drew a long, low, quavering whimper from her heaving chest.

Robbi let the rope unfurl, and looped it over Tiffany’s head, behind her neck, drawing it down her chest, knotting it between her juddering breasts before wrapping it tight – so sensuously tight – around her body, beneath her breasts,  She passed it around again, above Tiffany’s breasts this time, then finally around them, binding them, squeezing them with a pressure that was somewhere between pleasure and pain, and combined the best – and worst – of both.

Holding the ends of the rope, Robbi jerked Tiffany off the turnbuckle, spun her around and shoved her chest-first into it again.  Tiffany shivered as the hard leather flattened her bound breasts.  Robbi next pulled her arms behind her and wound the rope ends around her elbows, pulling them tight together, stretching her shoulders uncomfortably backwards.  Bound tight, held helpless, she groaned out loud, not from the discomfort but from the rekindled heat in her belly.

‘Now…” Robbi jerked her back off the ropes, where she stood swaying, not sure her legs would hold her up.  Every breath stretched her flesh against the encircling ropes.  She could already feel her breasts beginning to swell, making the ropes even tighter.  Gawd – this was only the beginning.

“Kneel,” Robbi commanded her.  Tiffany’s body obeyed before her roiling mind had even understood the word.  She dropped to her knees, almost falling on her belly on the canvas, but she kept her balance with a supreme effort.

Robbi stepped around her, between her and the corner, facing Tiffany.  She reached back and grabbed the ropes with both hands, stepping up so that both her feet were on the lower rope, her body leaning back against the turnbuckle, her legs spread, her shaven, dark flushed crotch open wide.  “Now…you know what to do.”

Slowly, awkwardly, afraid of falling, Tiffany shuffled forward on her knees, until she knelt between Robbi’s splayed legs.  She could feel the victor’s gaze upon her, but she didn’t look up, not daring – not trusting herself – to meet Robbi’s eyes.

“Look at me.”

Trembling, Tiffany looked up.  She hated to do it – feared to do it – because she knew what she would see in Robbi’s eyes.  Worse, she knew what she would feel in her heart – what she already felt – not defiant, not even resigned to her fate, but helpless, submissive, subservient – and painfully, agonizingly aroused.

“Say it.”

Tiffany gazed upward, over the brunette’s bronzed body, past the proud, jutting breasts with their dark, hard peaks.  She felt her soul being sucked into those hooded brown eyes as Robbi gazed down at her haughtily.  Right there and then, she wanted nothing more than to taste that body, to worship the woman who had defeated her, but she was also terrified of what else – what other emotions that might evoke in her.  Memories tugged at her, seductive, wicked memories.  Nevertheless, she swallowed hard and said, “I surrender,” in a voice that quavered yet still carried across the room, the audience now silent for this admission.  “I…submit myself…to you, Robbi.”

Robbi smiled.  “Now…you may kiss me.”  Her downward glance, the slight twitch as her thighs parted further, left no doubt as to where she meant.

Tiffany leaned in, stretched up on her knees, her eyes focused on her conqueror’s crotch – on the dark, puffy outer lips, already parted wide, on the glistening, slick velvet folds of her inner lips, on the pink shiny head of her swollen clit, already poking eagerly out of its hood.  She shivered as she recalled the taste of this woman, the scent of this woman, the power this woman had once wielded over her – and might all too easily wield again.

Her tongue slide out slowly, hesitated just a moment, then flicked at Robbi’s sex, tentatively at first, starting at the lower end, nearest her ass, and gliding slowly, wetly upward until she reached the entrance to Robbi’s now-dripping pussy.  There her tongue took on a will of its own, and slid effortlessly inside, deeper and deeper until Robbi’s lips enfolded Tiffany’s nose.  The Domme’s scent filled her nostrils, her essence flooded into her mind, and Tiffany groaned as she surrendered herself completely to the moment.

Robbi gasped at the first touch of Tiffany’s tongue, held herself rigid and trembling while that tongue made its slowly, tremulous journey toward her pussy, but when it drove deep inside her, when the blonde’s nose pressed hard into her clit, when Tiffany’s groan of abject submission made her pussy vibrate, she threw her head back, clutched Tiffany’s thick blonde tresses tight and ground herself hard on her vanquished victim’s face.

It didn’t take long before Robbi too was shaking the ring post, bouncing on Tiffany’s face, moaning, panting on the edge of orgasm.  She threw back her head and roared in triumph as she came for the second time that night – this time a celebration of proud conquest, her routed foe on her knees, pleasuring her, humbled and humiliated in front of the crowd.

Tiffany felt that shame just as fully as Robbi felt her victory – and with some of the same emotions.  She had wanted to win – God how she’d wanted to win – but now, in defeat, she opened herself wholly to the feelings that surged through her – to the pain, to the exhaustion, to the shame, and to the awful all-consuming lust that they fueled.   Her body shook just like Robbi’s as her tongue lashed her conqueror’s clit, swirling circles around it, then spearing deep into the brunette’s pussy to anoint itself with her juices before returning to lave her clit again.  All the while, Robbi bucked and screamed and took the pleasure that was hers.

Robbi dragged from her from the ring and paraded her around the room, first on her feet and then on her knees, as the crowd slapped, groped and fondled her, jeering and taunting.  The degradation, the violation, all blended into one overwhelming sea of shame until she no longer even thought about it, but simply embraced it as a state of being, becoming one with it and letting it take her over.

Flanked by cheering spectators, the victorious Domme half-led, half-carried her to the big freight elevator, and took her down to the basement.  The crowd followed, in the elevator and stampeding down the stairs, to where the club’s dungeon awaited. 

Things became confused in Tiffany’s mind after that, as she surrendered herself even deeper to her submissive side.  When Robbi threw her down on her belly and declared her the room whore for the night, she wallowed even in that defilement, as the club’s eager denizens took turns with her, singly and in pairs, even in groups.

All she could remember afterwards were isolated images and feelings, like short clips from a movie.  She recalled kneeling in the center of a circle of women, their arms linked across each other’s shoulders, hemming her in.  All of them were naked from the waist down, all of them waiting, rubbing themselves as she served each of them in turn, her face, her hair, her neck and chest all sticky with their juices.

She was used by two huge black women, built like Amazons, both oiled and naked except for long, thick strap-ons which they put to terrifyingly good use on Tiffany, impaling her in her pussy and her ass, lifting her off the floor with their twin phalluses until she hung helpless, sandwiched between them as they embraced each other, kissing hungrily, her head and face crushed between their massive breasts.

She recalled being put in a strappado position, her arms stretched upward behind her, legs forced wide with a spreader bar, as woman after woman used her mouth and nose while others slapped, probed and even flogged or whipped her from behind.  Someone bound her hair back with a rope and attached that to a hook they used to impale her ass, stretching her neck and keeping her face in position to be plundered.  Some time later they even suspended her by her pinioned arms, as she felt her screaming shoulders might pop from their sockets, but by then she was so far gone that the pain was a mere faint echo in the yawning cavern of her sub space.

It was a long time later – she didn’t know how long in her pain-filled, lust-fogged mind, but it felt like an eternity of depravity – that Robbie came to her as she lay on the cold stone floor, still bound by her arms and around her breasts.  A puddle of juices, her own and countless others’, surrounded her as she twitched feebly in the aftermath of yet another agonizing orgasm. 

Robbi was fully dressed now – black pants, black sweater, even a jacket.  She bent down and lifted Tiffany’s face so she could stare down into the ravaged blonde’s glazed eyes.  Tiffany’s swollen lips trembled, her makeup smeared in dark streaks down her cheeks, her hair a tangled, matted mess, dripping with sweat and pussy juice.

“Now the room’s finished with you, bitch, it’s my turn again.” Tiffany barely registered the words.  She was bone weary, exhausted physically and emotionally, consumed by shame, blasted by lust, barely mindful of what or even who she was. 

Robbi rolled Tiffany onto her back, her arms wedged beneath her in a way that under any normal circumstances would have been acutely uncomfortable.  Right then though, Tiffany barely even noticed.  Robbi was carrying another coil of silk rope.  This time she started by looping the center over the knot between Tiffany’s throbbing, desperately sensitive breasts, down to her belly button where she made another knot before wrapping it tight around the blonde’s narrow waist.  Tiffany groaned as she pulled it tight.  Even now, after her all-night ordeal, the feel of those silken strands on her naked flesh sent a perverse thill through her.

The Domme made another knot above Tiffany’s mound, another bend of the rope around her hips, then rolled her onto her side and drew the rope down between her legs, through her crotch, pulling it deep into the beaten blonde’s soaked, swollen sex, up the cleft of her buttocks, to bind it tight around her wrists.  Tiffany gasped as even more tension came onto her shoulders.  If she tried to lean forward – and she did – then the rope cut even deeper into her pussy.

From there Robbi worked her way down Tiffany’s quivering thighs, past her knees, all the way to her ankles, binding her legs tightly together.  She could not move beyond a wriggle, and even made the ropes pull tightly – wickedly tight – against her skin.

Robbi dragged Tiffany up by her hair, setting her on her knees where she swayed, quaking with the effort of simply staying upright.  “There,” smiled Robbi, “now you’re properly dressed…don’t you think, Danni?”

Tiffany jumped in shock, turned her head reflexively and almost fell back on her belly.  Robbi had to grab her hair again and hold her up.  She heard the club’s owner laugh softly from somewhere off to her left.  “Oh, definitely…ropes are definitely her, I think.”

“Of course, there’s one thing missing,” Robbi went on, “but thankfully I have that right here.” She reached over Tiffany’s head from behind, and the blonde’s eyes widened as she saw what her tormentor held in her hands – a slim black patent leather collar with a D-ring attached at the front, and a cursive silver ‘R’ wrought in gold, hanging from it.  That collar was all too familiar to her – it was the same one she had worn before, those three months in Robbi’s service.

She shuddered now at the memory of it  – the snug fit, the kiss of the leather against the soft flesh of her throat, the constant reminder of what she was, of who she belonged to.  Worst of all, she remembered how it had felt so horribly right.  She let out a tiny whimper as Danni held up her hair and Robbi buckled the collar around her neck. 

They stepped back and regarded her appraisingly.  “The finishing touch,” said Robbi with relish.

“Oh, definitely,” agreed Danni.  “Back in bondage…enslaved…where a slut like her belongs.”  She stepped in front of Tiffany, and Tiffany turned her weary eyes up to meet the woman’s mocking gaze. 

“You left us,” Danni informed her, looking down her nose at the trembling Tiffany. “You deserted us, for a bunch of high-society, pampered penthouse-dwellers who wouldn’t last five minutes in this place.  And why?” Her lip curled, and her big bosom heaved as she took a deep breath. “Why?”

Tiffany opened her mouth to speak but Danni cut her off.  “Shut up!  I’ll tell you why.  Because you’re a whore…a money-grabbing whore who forgot who she is…forgot where she belongs.” Leaning forward slightly, she smiled, “Now this is what you get.”  She took the ring in Tiffany’s collar between her finger and thumb and tugged on it, pulling Tiffany’s head forward.  “Welcome home…slut.” She kissed Tiffany firmly on the forehead.

She straightened up and slipped an arm around Robbi, caressing the brunette’s waist with her fingertips.  A look passed between them, and they kissed.  “Enjoy your present,” smiled Danni.

“Oh, I certainly intend to,” replied Robbi.  She bent and kissed Tiffany hard on the lips.  The blonde gasped as her once-again Mistress’s tongue invaded her mouth.  Robbi broke the kiss, pulling Tiffany back by the hair.  “But not here.”  She slipped a black rubber ball-gag into Tiffany’s mouth and buckled it behind her head.  “That’ll keep you quiet till I get you home, slut.”

She dragged the unresisting Tiffany to her feet, bent at the knees and hefted her over her shoulder like a sack of wheat.  Tiffany groaned as her own body weight bent her legs and head downward, stretching her arms back and digging the ropes tighter into her ravaged womanhood.  She didn’t think she had anything left to give, but nonetheless a tremor of insidious pleasure coursed through her.

She sobbed as Robbi carried her to the elevator.  Gawd, the power of this woman!  A shudder wracked her.  She was enslaved again, once more Robbi’s collared creature.  The thought electrified and horrified her at the same time.

They ascended the two floors to the club, Danni walking alongside them.  She barely knew where they were taking her, nor was she in any state to care.   Only when she felt cold air on her naked flesh did she realize she was outside.  It was light – it must have been after dawn.  She had been in the dungeon – been used by all comers – for the entire night.

There was a car waiting in the alley.  Robbi carried Tiffany over to it and dumped her bodily into the open trunk.  The battered blonde gasped as the landing knocked whatever air was left out of her.

Robbi stood staring down at her.  “Now…sugah, you’re coming back home with me, and it’s gonna be just like old times.”

The trunk lid slammed shut, and Tiffany wept as the car pulled out into the early morning traffic, taking her to her fate.

THE END

[lulufights]

Such an appropriate ending for Tiffany  I wonder if Robbi has a busty best friend with similar interests 

[zhenghan]

Just finish reading the story. It is soooo good. Thank you so much!

Tiffany could hold her own in a catfight, but pro wrestling was her style of choice and she began to circle her opponent, her right arm extended in readiness for the classic collar-and-elbow lockup.  There was a strong element of ritual in commencing a fight that way, and it appealed to something deep in Tiffany’s psyche.  She knew that Robbi had similar leanings to her own, and the busty brunette immediately reciprocated, raising her own arm, blood-red nails pointed at Tiffany.

The two antagonists described a precise half-circle in the middle of the ring before, as one, they twisted on one foot and came together, each with one hand on the nape of the other’s neck, the other hand grasping her opponent’s elbow.  Tiffany strained against the brunette’s hold, keeping a wary eye on the other woman’s legs.  Robbi wasn’t above sending a kick or a knee into her belly or groin.  She tried to tear herself free, but Robbi hadn’t grown any softer since their last meeting, and it was like tearing at steel.

She switched tactics and instead began to push against Robbi, trying to force the shorter woman backward, onto the ropes or into the corner.  Again, it was like pushing against solid rock, but Tiffany persisted.  Anything she could do to wear her opponent down, to tire her, to weaken her, was worth it.  This was a marathon, not a sprint.

Robbi took a sudden step backwards and Tiffany, still locked up and momentarily unbalanced, stumbled a step forwards.  At the same moment, the brunette released Tiffany’s right arm, ducked and darted forward to Tiffany’s left and came up behind the blonde.  Before Tiffany’s cry of surprise and exasperation had left her lips, her enemy was twisting her left arm up behind her into a hammerlock.

This wasn’t Tiffany’s first rodeo though, and she twisted rapidly to her right, firing her crooked arm blindly backwards at the brunette.  She felt a satisfying impact as her elbow struck soft flesh, and she need to hear the sharp grunt from Robbi to know her blow had struck hard.  Robbi’s grip on her arm faltered and she stepped forward to freedom, but not before she felt the sharp nails of Robbi’s left hand rake diagonally downward across her chest.

As Tiffany broke away and turned to face her opponent again, she spared an instant to glance downward.  The four crimson tracks that marked her flesh from her right shoulder to the left side of her ribs were only faint and the skin was unbroken, but the thin fabric of her body stocking hung in shreds, her breasts bare.  Her hard nipples smarted where her adversary’s talons had dragged across them.  She turned her eyes to Robbi again and snarled, “Bitch!”

Robbi smiled a cold smile.  “We’ll see who’s the bitch when this is over.” She went into a half crouch and came at Tiffany again in a quick, darting lunge, arms wide.  Tiffany dropped even lower though and instead of Robbi’s shoulder hammering into her ribs and driving her backward into the ropes, the brunette’s body folded forward over Tiffany’s back.  Tiffany let out a loud “Ha!” of triumphant glee as she surged to her feet, her own shoulder driving deep into Robbi’s hard abs.  Robbi gave a maddened shriek as her feet left the canvas and she flew bodily over Tiffany’s head, long legs flailing wildly, to crash down hard on her back.

Tiffany was already spinning on the ball of her foot as Robbi was still in mid-air.  At the instant the brunette’s back hit the canvas, she leapt, landing on her knees astride Robbi’s shoulders, her shins pinning her enemy’s arms.  Robbi roared in anger, twisting her shoulders violently to break free, kicking her legs upward, even stretching her neck up to snap viciously at Tiffany’s crotch with her teeth.

“You got cocky, sugah!” Tiffany taunted her, rising up on her knees to keep her loins out of Robbi’s reach, then an explosive “UNNNGGGHHH!’ erupted from her chest as Robbi’s savage knee thudded into her belly.  The blow almost knocked her over backwards but she managed to keep herself upright and whipped an arm underneath her enemy’s knee, lifting it up high as Robbi roared, cursed and thrashed beneath her.

“Get off me, you cxnt!” the brunette spat savagely.  “I’ll fucking DESTROY you!”  She rammed her other knee upward but Tiffany swung sideways and deftly hooked her opponent’s other leg, tucking it under her armpit as Robbi howled in frustrated fury.

“Not with moves like that, sugah!” Tiffany laughed out loud.  She couldn’t believe her luck.  Was it really going to be this easy?  Was her former Mistress so eager to defeat and collar her again that she’d forgotten even the most basic principles of wrestling?  She jerked Robbi’s legs up higher, until only the brunette’s head and shoulders were on the floor, her body inverted and vertical, breasts pressed against Tiffany’s belly, trapped in a reverse matchbook pin.

Robbi struggled, squirming in Tiffany’s grasp, but the blonde’s powerful arms held her tight.  “Just hold still, sugah…this isn’t gonna hurt anything but your pride!” laughed Tiffany.  She dipped her head and thrust her face into Robbi’s defenseless loins.  The brunette screamed and thrashed in savage desperation. 

Tiffany opened her mouth wide, then brought her teeth together, taking a firm grip on the thin cloth of Robbi’s body stocking.  She jerked her head back, twisting it to the side as she did so, and there was a staccato ripping sound as she tore the crotch out of her enemy’s diaphanous costume.  Arching her back and pointing her face to the sky, she spat the scrap of cloth into the air where it fluttered slowly to the canvas a few feet away.  The crowd howled their approval – they loved an extravagant gesture.

“Let’s see how good your stamina is, huh?” Tiffany bent her body forward once more and her long pink tongue emerged to lap the length of Robbi’s flushed sex.  “Oh, you’re wet already, sugah!” she called out loudly.  There were more cheers and laughter from the crowd.  Robbi growled balefully from beneath her haunches.  As Tiffany’s tongue probed between her nether lips, she writhed and bucked in impotent anger, cursing heatedly and almost but not quite wrenching one leg free.

“I told you to hold STILL!” Tiffany barked with an edge of steel in her tone – her Command Voice.  She felt Robbi stiffen and go still for a moment, before the brunette snarled and her thrashing redoubled.  “Looks like you need some help!” She reached down, slid her hand into the cleft between Robbi’s taut, bronzed buttocks, and jabbed a finger, then two, into the puckered rosette of her enemy’s ass.

Robbi shrieked with futile fury and bucked even harder, but just once, before Tiffany curled her fingers and the feel of the blonde’s nails against her inner walls stilled Robbi’s struggles.  “There ya go, sugah!” Tiffany mocked her.  “See?  You don’t wanna hurt yourself now, do ya?” 

“It’s gonna feel so good…” Her voice became muffled as her tongue wormed its way between Robbi’s pussy lips and slid smoothly into the moist tunnel of her sex.  “Damn humiliating, for sure…forced to cum in the ring in front of God an’ everybody…but darn good all the same.” 

She relished the groan that came from below her – equal parts anger, frustration, humiliation and burgeoning lust.  “You…nnnggghhh…BITCH!

Tiffany laughed into her enemy’s pussy.  Withdrawing her tongue for a moment, she replied, “What was that you said earlier?  We’ll see who’s the bitch?  Well, I reckon we know the answer to that one, huh?” Her tongue flicked out again, this time flicking across the swollen pink head of Robbi’s clit as it poked impudently from its sheltering hood.  Robbi shuddered and her groan grew louder as the lust swelled within her.  Her ass clenched tight around Tiffany’s fingers and her body shuddered in the blonde’s implacable grip.

“I’m gonna enjoy this just as much as you are, sugah.” Tiffany smiled into her ex-lover’s pussy as she swirled her tongue around Robbi’s clit yet again.  Robbi bucked again, but involuntarily this time as the pleasure overcame her self-control.  Her outstretched arms twitched underneath Tiffany’s pinning legs, fists clenched tight against the insidious arousal.

It was only a matter of time, Tiffany knew.  Robbi wasn’t going anywhere.  She had the bitch pinned, good and proper.  That didn’t mean she had to rush things though.  She was going to make Robbi’s humiliation last, to milk the greatest effect from it, both physically and psychologically.  She knew only too well what a long, hard climax could do – what it could take out of a fighter.  This was only the first of three falls and she wanted to make sure tht Robbi was seriously weakened, physically and emotionally, for the remainder of the fight.

She sucked Robbi’s clit hard, drawing a long, quavering moan from her trapped victim.  Her tongue lapped once more at the hot, slick head of it.  She moaned softly with her own pleasure as she tasted her enemy’s lust.  The adrenalin welled up within her – as did the arousal – as she tasted her own power over the woman who had once enslaved her.  Revenge was, indeed, sweet.

Moving her head slightly, grinding her chin against Robbi’s clit, she slid her tongue slowly down the length of the brunette’s now-sopping labia, until she reached her enemy’s entrance and stabbed her tongue deep inside.  Robbi gasped aloud, bucked and trembled, the hard muscles of her thighs twitching and quivering in Tiffany’s arms.  Tiffany withdrew, circling the twitching tunnel with her tongue, teasing Robbi before thrusting her tongue inside again, wiggling her jaw as she did so, working the other woman’s flesh, playing her like a musical instrument as Robbi’s moans and cries grew louder and more urgent.  “Oh…OH!...FUCK…me…”

Tiffany didn’t know if that was an exclamation or an exhortation, but she smiled inwardly as she brought her enemy closer and closer, by the most circuitous and tortuous route she could manage, to a shuddering, all-consuming climax.  She wanted the bitch all used up, fucked senseless, so that three minutes would be nowhere near enough for her to recover – not three minutes, not three hours or even three days.  In her mind’s eye, she foresaw the collar she would fasten around Robbi’s neck after she had broken the bitch.  That thought made her own loins clench tight with fierce desire.

She drew out the moment as long as she could, as Robbi’s cries grew more frantic, as the brunette’s body writhed and bucked not from a desire to fight back or to get away now, but from an even more urgent, more primal instinct.  Robbi wailed in anguished ecstasy, louder and higher-pitched until she drowned out the cheering, hooting audience and came at last in a squirting cataclysm of lust.

Tiffany released Robbi’s legs and the brunette collapsed on the canvas, limbs twitching, bathed in sweat, her massive chest rising and falling as she gasped for breath.  She did not move as Tiffany slowly climbed off her, rose and backed away into her corner of the ring.  The blonde stood there smiling at her fallen foe, wracked and ravaged, quivering on the canvas. 

There was no clock visible but she judged it must have been at least halfway through the three-minute interval before Robbi rolled laboriously onto her belly, clambered to all fours and crawled ponderously to her own corner.  Only when she got there did she lever herself to her feet.  She turned, leaning back against the turnbuckles, her chest still heaving as she glared at Tiffany across the ring, through her tousled hair with hatred in her eyes. 

Tiffany met her gaze with a wink, tilted her chin up and called out, “Sure you don’t wanna save yourself some pain and just kneel now, sugah?”

Robbi’s face was thunderous.  “Bring it, bitch!” she spat, fists clenched.

Just then a bell rang out for the start of the second fall, interrupting their altercation.  As the brunette stepped out into the ring once more though, she hissed, “You’re gonna pay for that, girl…pay dearly.  I’ll make you suffer like you’re never dreamed.”

“It’s you that’s dreaming, sugah!” Tiffany laughed at her former Mistress.  “Next fall and you’re gonna be on your knees and sucking my toes…just for starters.”

Robbi growled and threw herself forward.  Tiffany reciprocated, arms out.  She knew she could match her opponent virtually pound for pound and was at least as strong as the brunette too.  In a head-on clash it would be a matter of sheer willpower and tenacity, and she knew she had both of those in abundance.  She could already feel the bitch’s tongue on her clit.

When they were no more than two strides apart, Robbi suddenly planted her front foot firmly and abruptly arrested her forward momentum.  Surprised, Tiffany instinctively tried to do the same, but she was moving at full speed, committed to the charge.  No matter, she thought.  Without the impetus of her own rush behind her, Robbi would be an even easier target.  She’d have the bitch on her back, or at least on the ropes, in a matter of moments.

Robbi had other ideas.  An instant before Tiffany cannoned into her, she threw her arms up and seized the blonde by the hair, throwing herself backward as she did so.  Already at full charge, Tiffany found herself jerked forward even harder.  Her yelp of surprise turned into a breathless grunt as her enemy raised a foot and drove it hard into her belly, then into a louder cry of anguished fury as Robbi monkey-flipped her by the hair, over her head.

The brunette had timed her halt with diabolical precision and rather than crashing to the canvas on her back – which would have been bad enough – Tiffany instead slammed down onto the top rope on the opposite side of the ring.  The heavy rope caught her across the small of her back, arching her spine agonizingly as it reluctantly gave under her weight.  Then, as Robbi released her grip on Tiffany’s hair, the rope sprang back and propelled the blonde upward again, out of the ring to the wooden floor three feet below.

She landed hard, thankfully between two tables.  Her outflung arms cushioned a little of the impact but still she hit hard on her chest, painfully pancaking her breasts against her ribs as she skidded several feet across the floor.  For a moment she lay there, groaning as she tried to gather her shattered wits. 

Part of wanted to lay there a few moments, to catch her breath and recover.  Robbi couldn’t touch her if she was out of the ring.  That was a club rule.  Another part of her however, remembered another club rule.  While Robbi couldn’t touch her, anyone else in the room could.  A fighter flung out of the ring was fair game for the audience.  She had to get up, get back in the ring, face this bitch and beat her.

With a fierce grunt she shoved herself up onto all fours, then grabbed a chair-back to pull herself to her feet.  Somebody grabbed her ass and, twisting her body savagely out of the way, batted the hand aside.  While she was distracted by that assault, somebody else reached up, grabbed her right nipple and twisted it all the way to eleven.  Tiffany screamed in pain and rage, whirled around and back-fisted the offender – a stocky brunette with a massive bosom – across the face, knocking her backward over a chair.

Other hands reached out, other bodies blocked her path, and she was forced to fight her way back to the ring.  By the time she reached the apron, the already torn and dangling front of her body stocking had been ripped away and one sleeve had been shredded as someone had tried to grab her arm and pull her back.

Robbi stood in the middle of the ring, laughing. “What kept you, sugah?” she taunted.  “For a moment there, I thought you were going to blow me off and go straight to being the crowd’s bitch!” She pitched her words loudly enough for the whole room to hear.  There was laughter from the audience.

Tiffany reddened, fists clenched.  “It’s long past time for me to shut you up, bitch!” she snarled.  She reached up and grabbed the top rope, jerking it down hard so she could use the bounce-back to boost herself up onto the apron.  It was not only a flamboyant move that the watching crowd would love, but it was also the most effective way to get back up to the ring without unduly exposing herself.

Not unduly exposing herself did not mean not exposing herself at all however.  She knew that – and so did her opponent.  Robbi let out a gleeful cry just as Tiffany reached up highest, and as the blonde yanked the rope downward, she threw herself at Tiffany, leaping into the air and hitting the rope with her chest  just as Tiffany pulled it lowest, her own body bent, tensed in anticipation of the bounce that would lift her onto the apron.  Robbi’s fingers seized her by the hair again, pushing her down further, almost slamming her face into the hard edge of the apron.  Then, as the ropes bounced back, both women were flung rapidly upward.

Tiffany shrieked like a banshee as she was jerked off her feet by the hair for the second time in as many minutes.  Her body described a whirling arc of bronzed flesh, almost the exact opposite of the path she had taken before, to hit the canvas on the base of her spine, so hard that she bounced.  A lance of pain shot up her spine and exploded in her brain. She sat bolt upright for a moment, then fell back on the canvas.  Tears erupted from her tightly closed eyes, though her mouth was wide open, teeth bared in a rictus of agony.

Robbi had gone down on her back too, but had landed with far less impact and much more control.  Tiffany was still writhing in the middle of the ring when she rolled over and sprang.  Grabbing a wrist and an ankle, she pulled Tiffany over onto her side and thrust her foot into the small of the blonde’s back.  Before Tiffany even realized what was happening, her adversary had her in a bow-and-arrow hold and was pouring on the pressure, adding to the pain already wracking Tiffany’s twisted body.

“I told you...you’d pay…” growled Robbi, through clenched teeth.  “Scream for me, bitch…scream for me!” She shoved harder with her foot, pulled harder with both hands.

Tiffany bit her lip hard to keep from crying out loud at the agony in her spine.  Even so, she could not stifle a plaintive groan.  She flailed her free arm desperately behind her, trying for some kind of purchase on Robbi’s arm, some way to break the hold, but Robbi was no novice and kept well out of her way.  Tiffany threw her head back, grinding her teeth, tears of pain streaming down her cheeks.

“Give it up, bitch!” snarled Robbi.  “Let me hear you submit!  Let me hear you BEG!”

Tiffany kept her silence.  Awash in a sea of pain, she wanted to obey, wanted to cry out her surrender, but she wouldn’t give this bitch – not this bitch – the satisfaction.  Her anguished groan forced its way out through her parched lips, the fire in her spine make her feel almost light-headed, but still she held her tongue.

“GIVE IT UP!!!” Robbi roared again.  “UGGGHHH!!! Stubborn cxnt!” She let go of Tiffany and the battered blonde rolled over onto her belly, pushing up on one elbow, bare breasts heaving as she gasped for breath.

Robbi rose up on her knees behind Tiffany.  “You’ll submit to me…eventually.” She lashed out with a vicious slap to the cheek, whipping Tiffany’s head to one side and sending her sprawling face-down on the canvas in a spray of spittle.  Her tormentor yanked her up by the hair and slapped her a second time, even harder.

Tiffany’s head was ringing from the savage blows.  She knew she had to get away, to break free and put some distance between her and Robbi, to give herself a chance to recover.  She was far from spent, but she needed some respite – just a little – to recoup her strength.

She gasped again as Robbi wrenched her head up a third time, and steeled herself for another slap.  It didn’t come however.  Instead, Robbi held her arched as she reached down with her other hand and stabbed her steepled fingers between the blonde’s half-spread legs.  Tiffany tensed and cried out, trying to draw her knees up, get her legs under her and scramble away, but Robbi rammed a knee into the base of her spine.  “Stay still, SKANK!”

Tiffany squirmed under Robbi’s knee, but she could not worm her way free.  She shrieked in horrified expectation as the brunette’s clawed fingers tore effortlessly through the gossamer fabric that covered her crotch, thrashing in a frantic but futile attempt to escape what she knew was coming.  “No!  NO!!!”

Robbi laughed evilly.  “Oh yes, bitch!  You had your chance to give it up easy.  Now we’re gonna do this the hard way.”  Tiffany screamed again as her enemy’s fingers thrust roughly into her crotch, “Oh, the bitch is all wet!” spreading her nether lips wide, “You’ll be wetter still by the time I’m done with you!” and plunged deep inside her pussy.  Tiffany’s scream turned into an ear-splitting wail of anguish.

“Ready to give it up yet?” mocked Robbi. She curled her fingers a little.  Tiffany groaned in helpless misery.  Her clenched fist pounded the canvas.  “No? Well then…”  She yanked even harder on the blonde’s thick platinum tresses, arching Tiffany’s head and chest up off the floor of the ring. 

Tiffany ground her teeth even harder, then shuddered with awful anticipation as she felt Robbi’s thumb push upward, between her tight, bronzed butt cheeks, to wiggle against the puckered rosette of her anus.  “You…BITCH…” Her voice was a quavering gasp.  She clenched her muscles tight against the insidious pressure but Robbi was relentless, and it was only a few moments before the brunette’s thumb slid past her failing defenses and into her ass.

Robbi leaned in and hissed in her ear, “Now I’m gonna give you one last chance…give it up now, or else.”

“Or else…what?” gasped Tiffany, still defiant.  “Or you’ll make me cum in the ring, just like I did to you?”

Robbi gave a dismissive snort.  “You think this is about making you cum?  About pleasure?” She laughed mirthlessly.  “Think again, girl.” She curled her fingers further and her thumb too, pinching the flesh between Tiffany’s pussy and ass, the feared bowling ball hold that would have been illegal in any ordinary fight – but this was The Slaughterhouse.

Tiffany went rigid, her eyes wide open just like her mouth.  “Ohhh….GAWDDD!!!” she howled at the top of her voice.  Her nails dug into her palms so hard she thought she would make herself bleed.  “All right!  ALL RIGHT!!! I GIVE!  I GIVE!!!”

Robbi kept up the pinch for another few seconds to make her point abundantly clear, before she pulled her hand roughly out of Tiffany’s crotch and stood up, leaving the blonde gasping, sweating and trembling, face down on the canvas.  The crowd cheered and screamed their approval.  Tiffany’s hanging hair obscured her view but she didn’t need to see to know that Robbi was strutting back to her corner, arms raised in triumph.  She clenched her fists again in fury.

She was determined not to crawl, not to look like Robbi had done after the first fall.  She pushed up onto her knees, then placed both hands on one knee to lever herself laboriously to her feet.  She stood there for a moment, taking several deep breaths, before she walked slowly to her own corner, doing her best not to stumble.  Her back and neck were on fire, as was her scalp, but she kept her face calm, masking her suffering behind a Mona Lisa smile.

All too soon the bell rang again, to signal the start of the third and final fall.  Tiffany fought off a shudder as thought leapt unbidden into her mind – for whom the bell tolls.  She pushed it aside and strode out into the ring, arms loose, knees slightly bent in a fighter’s crouch.  The butterflies in her stomach had turned to demons that gnawed at her mind as well as her belly.  She had to win this fight.  She couldn’t let Robbi take her again – not like before. 

Robbi also advanced, confidently, with a Cheshire cat smile on her face.  As she came within a few feet of Tiffany, she threw her arms out and lunged, ready to lock up again.  Tiffany also flung her arms up but not to grab Robbi’s hands.  Instead she knocked the other woman’s forearms away with her own and slammed her body into Robbi’s, halting her opponent’s charge and knocking her back a step.

Face twisted in fury, Robbi threw herself forward again, but this time instead of grabbing at Tiffany with her arms, she stomped her right foot down hard on Tiffany’s left instep.  The blonde howled and hunched over, favoring that leg. 

Distracted, hobbling, Tiffany didn’t see her enemy’s fist driving upward until it was too late.  The blow caught her under the chin, snapped her head back and sent her reeling across the ring and into the opposite ropes.

Fighting through the pain in her foot, she used the ropes as a spring to bounce herself back into the middle of the ring, meeting Robbi’s follow-up charge head-on.  Robbi dropped a shoulder, aiming at Tiffany’s midriff, but the blonde whirled to her right, growling through gritted teeth at the pain it cost her, and her knee rammed up into Robbi’s belly as her enemy stumbled past her.

The impact knocked Robbi off course and she staggered across the ring to fetch up against a turnbuckle, holding her belly.  White-hot anger blazed in her dark eyes, but her face was pinched tight with pain.  ‘You…bitch…’ she gasped, ‘…are gonna pay dearly for that.”

“Talk’s cheap, sugah!” hissed Tiffany as she threw herself across the ring, aiming to body-splash the brunette into the turnbuckle and crush the fight out of her with her own body.  She could already taste the thrill of defeat – could already feel the touch of Robbi’s tongue on her pussy as her one-time Mistress humbled herself in front of the entire club.

She dropped her shoulder, bracing herself to drive it hard into Robbi’s chest, but at the last possible instant, the brunette ducked and whirled, and it was Tiffany herself who slammed chest-first into the turnbuckle with a loud “NNNGGGUUUHHH!!!”

Startled but far from stunned, she grabbed the top rope with both hands and shoved herself backwards out of the corner, only to feel her enemy’s hard fist ram into her side just below her ribs.  “OOFFF!!!” The air rushed out of her lungs as pain lanced through her chest.  Before she could even bring her arm down to shield herself, Robbi grabbed a handful of her platinum hair, ripped her head back and then drove it forward again, slamming her face into the unyielding turnbuckle.

This time, Tiffany saw stars.  She shook her head violently to clear the dark, dancing dots from before her eyes.  Grabbing the top rope with both hands, she shoved herself back but before she could turn around, Robbi grabbed her by the hair, spun her around and drove a knee up into her abs.

Tiffany gagged and doubled over, almost retching from the pain that surged through her.  Her knees buckled and she would have fallen if Robbi’s knee hadn’t rammed upward again, crushing her left breast into her ribs and lifting her up on her toes.  She had no breath to cry out, but her mouth opened wide in silent agony,

Robbi reared up on her own toes, over the bent-over blonde, raised her arms and sent a double axe-handle chop into the back of Tiffany’s neck, which drove the blonde to her knees so hard that her face slammed into the ring floor with a force almost made her black out.  Darkness danced at the edges of her already blurred vision, and she hung there on all fours, clinging to consciousness with a desperation born out of fear.  She knew what was in store for her if she lost this fall.  Woven within that fear however, was a perverse excitement that sent a tremor through the deepest places within her.

“Look at you…on your knees where you belong!” sneered Robbi.  She raised a foot and stomped it down between Tiffany’s shoulders.  The blonde’s arms gave out and she collapsed to the canvas, pain lancing through her as the impact crushed her big round breasts beneath her.  She groaned in anguish.

Robbi bent at the knees and shoved both hands into Tiffany’s tangled hair.  ‘Get up, bitch!” he heaved and forced Tiffany up onto her knees.  She did her best to get her hands up, to grab at Robbi’s wrists, to lessen the pressure and pain on her scalp, but her arms felt like lead – lead that was rapidly heating up, pouring into her belly like lava, fueling the dark fires that were already kindling there.

She tried to push those feelings away, to focus her mind on the fight, but Robbi gave her no time, running her across the ring by her hair, doubled over and fighting frantically just to stay on her feet.  She halted abruptly a few paces from the far side, flinging Tiffany forward, sending her spearing head-first between the top and middle ropes, out of the ring and into crowd once more.

Tiffany threw her arms out and managed to grab the middle rope, arresting her progress.  Her momentum stretched the rope outward until she hung precariously for a moment, balanced on her arms, over the waist-high drop with her feet still in the ring, before the rope sprang back, pulling Tiffany back with it, leaving her on her knees, the rope across the lower edge of her ribs, beneath her breasts.

With a whoop of triumphant malice, Robbi leapt on her, landing with her firm butt in the small of Tiffany’s back, collapsing her knees, knocking her downward against the bottom rope.  Tiffany shivered, then shuddered at the insidious kiss of the thick braided nylon, scraping harshly across her skin.  Ropes were her weakness.  The very touch of them against her skin seemed to sap her strength and her will to resist, turning her from the warrior Platinum Queen into someone – something – very different.

Robbi knew her well, and so Robbi knew that too.  She leaned forward, one hand shoved hard between Tiffany’s shoulders.  The other reached over the blonde’s shoulder, grabbed the bottom rope and yanked it upwards hard, pulling it back over Tiffany’s head, behind her shoulders, then letting go, letting it snap back, leaving Tiffany trapped.

The brunette stood up and laughed cruelly.  “Now you’re where you really belong!  Not just on your knees, but trapped and tied up on your knees!” There were more cheers from the crowd.

Tiffany struggled against the ropes, wriggling her shoulders, trying get enough leverage to push the middle rope down, to give herself room to escape, but her frantic movements only made the ropes scratch even more against her back, her ribs, her breasts.  She shuddered again as the weakness grew in her arms and legs, and her loins began to tingle.  “Oh…fuck,” she muttered under her breath.  This had just gone from bad to – well, worse than worse.

Robbi dropped to one knee behind her, and Tiffany yelped as her enemy slapped her hard on the right cheek of her ass, rocking her forward in the ropes.  She hardly had time to feel the sting of that slap before Robbi struck her again, this time on the left ass cheek, rocking her forward again and dragging a groan from her dry, parted lips.

“You know where the third one’s going,” Robbi teased her, “…don’t you?”

Tiffany shuddered yet again, and tensed herself.  She knew only too well where the next blow would land – she knew Robbi only too well – but it still drew a plaintive moan from her heaving chest when her former Mistress’s hand slapped her hard on her nether lips, almost but not quite on her rapidly swelling clit.  She bit her lip hard, but the pain – now – had the exact opposite effect to that which she intended.  Her lips trembled.

Robbi trailed her fingertips over Tiffany’s smarting ass cheeks as the blonde clenched her fists and trembled helplessly in the grip of the ropes.  Then she yelped again as her enemy slapped her butt hard.  The yelp turned to a groan, and the trembling only increased when Robbi stroked a gentle – horrifyingly gentle – finger along the length of her exposed sex, from just below her clit, over the entrance to her pussy, twitching in terrible anticipation, and up the cleft of her buttocks to caress the tight-clenched rosebud of her anus.  She moaned, closing her eyes, quivering.

She jumped at another touch, more so because this one was unexpected.  Her eyes opened wide, to see two women standing before her, on the floor outside the ring.  They were both blonde, pale-skinned, equal in height and identical in every way.  Even if her mind wasn’t fogged with pain, with fear at her current predicament and, if she were honest, with desire at what was no doubt in store for her at Robbi’s hands, Tiffany would still have had trouble telling them apart.

Tiffany knew who they were – Hope and Faith, the ‘alabaster twins’ as they were known for their milky white complexions.  They were indeed twin sisters, regulars here at The Slaughterhouse.  Both were subs but vicious, nasty little subs who enjoyed preying on anyone who was already weakened or in trouble.  They were bottom-feeders, and Tiffany would never normally have given them a second glance, but now – she stared into their unreadable eyes.

They were dressed identically too, in black leather outfits – short skirts, high heels, tight corsets and bustiers that hugged their modest bosoms.  They even wore matching collars in black leather with silver trim – whose, Tiffany didn’t know since she never paid the twins much attention – with a thin silver chain that coffled them together.  As one, they stepped forward, reached out and grasped each of Tiffany’s swaying breasts, each with hand, squeezing them firmly, pinching her hard nipples, rolling them between finger and thumb.

Anger welled up in Tiffany and she shook herself violently.  How dare these two bimbos touch her, let alone fondle her brazenly like she was a piece of fresh meat!  She slapped hard at their invading hands but they simply grabbed an arm each, stretching them out along the ropes with one hand while continuing to fondle her breasts with the other.

Tiffany’s struggles again made the restraining ropes rub harder against her bare flesh, sending darkly delicious sensations coursing through her – just as Robbi’s fingers parted her pussy lips from behind.  Tiffany threw back her head and screamed, though she was far from sure whether it was frustrated anger or burgeoning desire.  “You BITCHES!  Get off me!  I’m still in the damn ring!”

The twins ignored her and continued groping her brazenly, but Robbi laughed out loud.  “Your tits are outside the ropes, bitch…so it’s open season on them.  Your pussy and your ass are inside though…” The tone of her voice changed ominously.  “…and your ass is mine.” The brunette’s thumb pressed against her puckered ass with menacing promise. 

Tiffany writhed in desperate despair.  The ropes sawed insidiously at the sensitive undersides of her breasts.  The twins squeezed the bouncing orbs, stroked them, tugged at her rock-hard nipples.  Robbi’s fingers spread her nether lips wider, opening her up to a third finger which stroked between them, sliding slowly but inexorably upward until it found the head of her already swollen clit. 

She bucked, reflexively and convulsively, at that first contact.  A long, quavering moan escaped her lips, which were parched and desert-dry, unlike her other lips.  Her tongue flicked across them, her eyes wide, staring out at the baying crowd as they witnessed her humiliation.

Robbi slipped two fingers inside her.  She groaned and shuddered as they slid in easily.  Her stretched-out abs quivered as her inner muscles clenched tight on her enemy’s – her victorious enemy now, she knew with awful certainty – thrusting fingers.  Tiffany wailed in desolation.  This was going to be bad.  She knew Robbi only too well.

“Now, bitch…it’s time for some payback,” Robbi purred, as she slid a third finger with equal ease into Tiffany’s now-drooling pussy.  Tiffany gasped as a tremor traveled through her, shaking her body hard in the restraining ropes and causing another shiver of treacherous lust.  She groaned.  Her frantic motions took on a different tone, as her body began to betray her, no longer struggling to escape but now beginning to squirm wantonly on Robbi’s thrusting, stroking, hideously pleasurable fingers.

Robbi grabbed her hair, wrenching her head back viciously.  “You’re gonna cum for me, bitch…come for me hard,” she sneered, “and all these people are gonna see you surrender…see your fall...see your shame.”

Tiffany sobbed at the certainty in those words as she stared at the onlookers, red-faced and tearful.  Robbi hauled harder on her hair, arching her back, shoving her chest forward into the ropes.  She was trapped – powerless, weak, at Robbi’s mercy – and that thought only made the fires of lust in her belly flare hotter.  Her breasts thrust outward, and the twins stepped closer, still moving in unison, to take her painfully erect nipples in their mouths, lapping, sucking, nibbling them, mocking her with the pleasure they were giving her.  Her entire body shook with a shameful spasm.

“No you don’t, bitch!” snarled Robbi.  She jabbed her thumb cruelly into Tiffany’s ass and the beaten blonde yelped.  “Not until I tell you you can!”  Tiffany shuddered and sobbed.  “Not until you beg me to let you!”

Tiffany’s breath was coming in short, panting gasps by now.  A voice in her head, the voice of her fighting spirit, screamed at her to tell the bitch to go to hell, to go fuck herself, but that voice was growing gradually more desperate as the flames licked higher within her, as the pounding of her heart grew louder, harder, until she could feel it in her aching nipples, her throbbing clit, her needful, twitching pussy.  She ground her teeth, trying to choke back the words, but with a final sob of despair she cried out, “Please….please let me cum!  PLEASE!!!”  Her tears flowed freely.

The crowd cheered wildly.  Robbi laughed.  “That’s it!  Now cum for me, princess,” she made the word an insult.  “Cum for me like the slut you are!”

And Tiffany did.  The flood gates flew open wide and she climaxed in a howling frenzy of depraved desire, bucking her hips on Robbi’s fingers, driving them ever deeper inside her, thrashing so hard in the ropes that the ring posts themselves shook violently.  Eyes closed, mouth open, body shaking like a leaf, she surrendered herself utterly to Robbi, to the crowd, to the pleasure, to the shame.

It was a long time later when she regained enough of her self to think again.  She hung in the ropes.  Her knees had collapsed, her head hung low, her crimson face hidden by the curtain of her tangled, sweat-soaked hair.  Robbi’s fingers had left her pussy now but still her insides twitched with the memory of them.  She quivered like an over-stretched cord – her mind was numb, her spirit was exhausted, but her body still craved more.

“Well now…wasn’t that just spectacular?” chuckled Robbi.  She pushed down on Tiffany’s back.  The blonde trembled at her touch as she unwrapped the ropes from around Tiffany’s torso.  “And that climax wasn’t the climax…not by a long shot,” she added threateningly.  The awful prescience in those words dragged a plaintive sob from Tiffany.

She stood up, hauling Tiffany up with her by her bedraggled hair, and walked over to the nearest corner.  There she yanked the still-shaking blonde around and shoved her back against the turnbuckles.  Tiffany hung there, gasping like a fish out of water, sagging against the ropes. 

Robbi slapped her hard on her left breast, bouncing it against its twin.  Tiffany didn’t have the strength to yelp.  It was all she could do to gasp.  She didn’t even do that when Robbi backhanded her again across the right breast, though she did groan when the triumphant Domme smacked her between her legs.  Her head lolled.  Robbi yanked her up, slapped her face and stared into her defeated eyes.  “Nice try, bitch…but not good enough.”

She let Tiffany’s head fall, and reached down to the ring apron.  There was a small duffel bag there.  Tiffany didn’t know how it had gotten there – presumably somebody had brought it there at the end of the fight.   Robbi reached inside and pulled out a coiled length of black rope.  Tiffany’s eyes widened and she shivered anew.  Robbi knew her only too well.

“Not nylon…this is silk,” said Robbi.  She brushed the coil softly against Tiffany’s breasts.  The blonde bit her lip as she hung in the corner.  “Soft…lovely…silk.” The touch drew a long, low, quavering whimper from her heaving chest.

Robbi let the rope unfurl, and looped it over Tiffany’s head, behind her neck, drawing it down her chest, knotting it between her juddering breasts before wrapping it tight – so sensuously tight – around her body, beneath her breasts,  She passed it around again, above Tiffany’s breasts this time, then finally around them, binding them, squeezing them with a pressure that was somewhere between pleasure and pain, and combined the best – and worst – of both.

Holding the ends of the rope, Robbi jerked Tiffany off the turnbuckle, spun her around and shoved her chest-first into it again.  Tiffany shivered as the hard leather flattened her bound breasts.  Robbi next pulled her arms behind her and wound the rope ends around her elbows, pulling them tight together, stretching her shoulders uncomfortably backwards.  Bound tight, held helpless, she groaned out loud, not from the discomfort but from the rekindled heat in her belly.

‘Now…” Robbi jerked her back off the ropes, where she stood swaying, not sure her legs would hold her up.  Every breath stretched her flesh against the encircling ropes.  She could already feel her breasts beginning to swell, making the ropes even tighter.  Gawd – this was only the beginning.

“Kneel,” Robbi commanded her.  Tiffany’s body obeyed before her roiling mind had even understood the word.  She dropped to her knees, almost falling on her belly on the canvas, but she kept her balance with a supreme effort.

Robbi stepped around her, between her and the corner, facing Tiffany.  She reached back and grabbed the ropes with both hands, stepping up so that both her feet were on the lower rope, her body leaning back against the turnbuckle, her legs spread, her shaven, dark flushed crotch open wide.  “Now…you know what to do.”

Slowly, awkwardly, afraid of falling, Tiffany shuffled forward on her knees, until she knelt between Robbi’s splayed legs.  She could feel the victor’s gaze upon her, but she didn’t look up, not daring – not trusting herself – to meet Robbi’s eyes.

“Look at me.”

Trembling, Tiffany looked up.  She hated to do it – feared to do it – because she knew what she would see in Robbi’s eyes.  Worse, she knew what she would feel in her heart – what she already felt – not defiant, not even resigned to her fate, but helpless, submissive, subservient – and painfully, agonizingly aroused.

“Say it.”

Tiffany gazed upward, over the brunette’s bronzed body, past the proud, jutting breasts with their dark, hard peaks.  She felt her soul being sucked into those hooded brown eyes as Robbi gazed down at her haughtily.  Right there and then, she wanted nothing more than to taste that body, to worship the woman who had defeated her, but she was also terrified of what else – what other emotions that might evoke in her.  Memories tugged at her, seductive, wicked memories.  Nevertheless, she swallowed hard and said, “I surrender,” in a voice that quavered yet still carried across the room, the audience now silent for this admission.  “I…submit myself…to you, Robbi.”

Robbi smiled.  “Now…you may kiss me.”  Her downward glance, the slight twitch as her thighs parted further, left no doubt as to where she meant.

Tiffany leaned in, stretched up on her knees, her eyes focused on her conqueror’s crotch – on the dark, puffy outer lips, already parted wide, on the glistening, slick velvet folds of her inner lips, on the pink shiny head of her swollen clit, already poking eagerly out of its hood.  She shivered as she recalled the taste of this woman, the scent of this woman, the power this woman had once wielded over her – and might all too easily wield again.

Her tongue slide out slowly, hesitated just a moment, then flicked at Robbi’s sex, tentatively at first, starting at the lower end, nearest her ass, and gliding slowly, wetly upward until she reached the entrance to Robbi’s now-dripping pussy.  There her tongue took on a will of its own, and slid effortlessly inside, deeper and deeper until Robbi’s lips enfolded Tiffany’s nose.  The Domme’s scent filled her nostrils, her essence flooded into her mind, and Tiffany groaned as she surrendered herself completely to the moment.

Robbi gasped at the first touch of Tiffany’s tongue, held herself rigid and trembling while that tongue made its slowly, tremulous journey toward her pussy, but when it drove deep inside her, when the blonde’s nose pressed hard into her clit, when Tiffany’s groan of abject submission made her pussy vibrate, she threw her head back, clutched Tiffany’s thick blonde tresses tight and ground herself hard on her vanquished victim’s face.

It didn’t take long before Robbi too was shaking the ring post, bouncing on Tiffany’s face, moaning, panting on the edge of orgasm.  She threw back her head and roared in triumph as she came for the second time that night – this time a celebration of proud conquest, her routed foe on her knees, pleasuring her, humbled and humiliated in front of the crowd.

Tiffany felt that shame just as fully as Robbi felt her victory – and with some of the same emotions.  She had wanted to win – God how she’d wanted to win – but now, in defeat, she opened herself wholly to the feelings that surged through her – to the pain, to the exhaustion, to the shame, and to the awful all-consuming lust that they fueled.   Her body shook just like Robbi’s as her tongue lashed her conqueror’s clit, swirling circles around it, then spearing deep into the brunette’s pussy to anoint itself with her juices before returning to lave her clit again.  All the while, Robbi bucked and screamed and took the pleasure that was hers.

Robbi dragged from her from the ring and paraded her around the room, first on her feet and then on her knees, as the crowd slapped, groped and fondled her, jeering and taunting.  The degradation, the violation, all blended into one overwhelming sea of shame until she no longer even thought about it, but simply embraced it as a state of being, becoming one with it and letting it take her over.

Flanked by cheering spectators, the victorious Domme half-led, half-carried her to the big freight elevator, and took her down to the basement.  The crowd followed, in the elevator and stampeding down the stairs, to where the club’s dungeon awaited. 

Things became confused in Tiffany’s mind after that, as she surrendered herself even deeper to her submissive side.  When Robbi threw her down on her belly and declared her the room whore for the night, she wallowed even in that defilement, as the club’s eager denizens took turns with her, singly and in pairs, even in groups.

All she could remember afterwards were isolated images and feelings, like short clips from a movie.  She recalled kneeling in the center of a circle of women, their arms linked across each other’s shoulders, hemming her in.  All of them were naked from the waist down, all of them waiting, rubbing themselves as she served each of them in turn, her face, her hair, her neck and chest all sticky with their juices.

She was used by two huge black women, built like Amazons, both oiled and naked except for long, thick strap-ons which they put to terrifyingly good use on Tiffany, impaling her in her pussy and her ass, lifting her off the floor with their twin phalluses until she hung helpless, sandwiched between them as they embraced each other, kissing hungrily, her head and face crushed between their massive breasts.

She recalled being put in a strappado position, her arms stretched upward behind her, legs forced wide with a spreader bar, as woman after woman used her mouth and nose while others slapped, probed and even flogged or whipped her from behind.  Someone bound her hair back with a rope and attached that to a hook they used to impale her ass, stretching her neck and keeping her face in position to be plundered.  Some time later they even suspended her by her pinioned arms, as she felt her screaming shoulders might pop from their sockets, but by then she was so far gone that the pain was a mere faint echo in the yawning cavern of her sub space.

It was a long time later – she didn’t know how long in her pain-filled, lust-fogged mind, but it felt like an eternity of depravity – that Robbie came to her as she lay on the cold stone floor, still bound by her arms and around her breasts.  A puddle of juices, her own and countless others’, surrounded her as she twitched feebly in the aftermath of yet another agonizing orgasm. 

Robbi was fully dressed now – black pants, black sweater, even a jacket.  She bent down and lifted Tiffany’s face so she could stare down into the ravaged blonde’s glazed eyes.  Tiffany’s swollen lips trembled, her makeup smeared in dark streaks down her cheeks, her hair a tangled, matted mess, dripping with sweat and pussy juice.

“Now the room’s finished with you, bitch, it’s my turn again.” Tiffany barely registered the words.  She was bone weary, exhausted physically and emotionally, consumed by shame, blasted by lust, barely mindful of what or even who she was. 

Robbi rolled Tiffany onto her back, her arms wedged beneath her in a way that under any normal circumstances would have been acutely uncomfortable.  Right then though, Tiffany barely even noticed.  Robbi was carrying another coil of silk rope.  This time she started by looping the center over the knot between Tiffany’s throbbing, desperately sensitive breasts, down to her belly button where she made another knot before wrapping it tight around the blonde’s narrow waist.  Tiffany groaned as she pulled it tight.  Even now, after her all-night ordeal, the feel of those silken strands on her naked flesh sent a perverse thill through her.

The Domme made another knot above Tiffany’s mound, another bend of the rope around her hips, then rolled her onto her side and drew the rope down between her legs, through her crotch, pulling it deep into the beaten blonde’s soaked, swollen sex, up the cleft of her buttocks, to bind it tight around her wrists.  Tiffany gasped as even more tension came onto her shoulders.  If she tried to lean forward – and she did – then the rope cut even deeper into her pussy.

From there Robbi worked her way down Tiffany’s quivering thighs, past her knees, all the way to her ankles, binding her legs tightly together.  She could not move beyond a wriggle, and even made the ropes pull tightly – wickedly tight – against her skin.

Robbi dragged Tiffany up by her hair, setting her on her knees where she swayed, quaking with the effort of simply staying upright.  “There,” smiled Robbi, “now you’re properly dressed…don’t you think, Danni?”

Tiffany jumped in shock, turned her head reflexively and almost fell back on her belly.  Robbi had to grab her hair again and hold her up.  She heard the club’s owner laugh softly from somewhere off to her left.  “Oh, definitely…ropes are definitely her, I think.”

“Of course, there’s one thing missing,” Robbi went on, “but thankfully I have that right here.” She reached over Tiffany’s head from behind, and the blonde’s eyes widened as she saw what her tormentor held in her hands – a slim black patent leather collar with a D-ring attached at the front, and a cursive silver ‘R’ wrought in gold, hanging from it.  That collar was all too familiar to her – it was the same one she had worn before, those three months in Robbi’s service.

She shuddered now at the memory of it  – the snug fit, the kiss of the leather against the soft flesh of her throat, the constant reminder of what she was, of who she belonged to.  Worst of all, she remembered how it had felt so horribly right.  She let out a tiny whimper as Danni held up her hair and Robbi buckled the collar around her neck. 

They stepped back and regarded her appraisingly.  “The finishing touch,” said Robbi with relish.

“Oh, definitely,” agreed Danni.  “Back in bondage…enslaved…where a slut like her belongs.”  She stepped in front of Tiffany, and Tiffany turned her weary eyes up to meet the woman’s mocking gaze. 

“You left us,” Danni informed her, looking down her nose at the trembling Tiffany. “You deserted us, for a bunch of high-society, pampered penthouse-dwellers who wouldn’t last five minutes in this place.  And why?” Her lip curled, and her big bosom heaved as she took a deep breath. “Why?”

Tiffany opened her mouth to speak but Danni cut her off.  “Shut up!  I’ll tell you why.  Because you’re a whore…a money-grabbing whore who forgot who she is…forgot where she belongs.” Leaning forward slightly, she smiled, “Now this is what you get.”  She took the ring in Tiffany’s collar between her finger and thumb and tugged on it, pulling Tiffany’s head forward.  “Welcome home…slut.” She kissed Tiffany firmly on the forehead.

She straightened up and slipped an arm around Robbi, caressing the brunette’s waist with her fingertips.  A look passed between them, and they kissed.  “Enjoy your present,” smiled Danni.

“Oh, I certainly intend to,” replied Robbi.  She bent and kissed Tiffany hard on the lips.  The blonde gasped as her once-again Mistress’s tongue invaded her mouth.  Robbi broke the kiss, pulling Tiffany back by the hair.  “But not here.”  She slipped a black rubber ball-gag into Tiffany’s mouth and buckled it behind her head.  “That’ll keep you quiet till I get you home, slut.”

She dragged the unresisting Tiffany to her feet, bent at the knees and hefted her over her shoulder like a sack of wheat.  Tiffany groaned as her own body weight bent her legs and head downward, stretching her arms back and digging the ropes tighter into her ravaged womanhood.  She didn’t think she had anything left to give, but nonetheless a tremor of insidious pleasure coursed through her.

She sobbed as Robbi carried her to the elevator.  Gawd, the power of this woman!  A shudder wracked her.  She was enslaved again, once more Robbi’s collared creature.  The thought electrified and horrified her at the same time.

They ascended the two floors to the club, Danni walking alongside them.  She barely knew where they were taking her, nor was she in any state to care.   Only when she felt cold air on her naked flesh did she realize she was outside.  It was light – it must have been after dawn.  She had been in the dungeon – been used by all comers – for the entire night.

There was a car waiting in the alley.  Robbi carried Tiffany over to it and dumped her bodily into the open trunk.  The battered blonde gasped as the landing knocked whatever air was left out of her.

Robbi stood staring down at her.  “Now…sugah, you’re coming back home with me, and it’s gonna be just like old times.”

The trunk lid slammed shut, and Tiffany wept as the car pulled out into the early morning traffic, taking her to her fate.

THE END

[SunnyB]

Stunning story ... WOW!