Post by walkindude on Jun 28, 2020 22:35:13 GMT
Hello Friends,
Just a heads up, don't read the piece below unless you've already read the Bly Finishing School story, as this serves as an epilogue / link between that story and the Raven's match at the upcoming Summer Swelter PPV.
Enjoy,
~RF
*******
LADY FIONA WATERFORD:
Lady Waterford put away childish things after being sent packing from FAWN and America, not to mention being hospitalized for days, by the disgusting Yoona Park. Not only had she left the ring behind, but every other fighting venue to cleanse herself and move to the next chapter.
She’d taken up the occasional triathlon to keep herself in the same immaculate shape as twenty years ago, or frankly, better. Thus, when she walked out of her anteroom in striking, midnight blue lace lingerie for tonight’s festivities, there were dropped jaws from the few VIPS in attendance, the men seated in couches behind a glass wall. As they recovered and sipped their cocktails, a smirking Fiona stretched with their view in mind.
Considering the opponent, the cash payout, and her foe’s less-than-ideal mental state, the perfect confluence of circumstances led to her signing on the dotted, contracting for this apartment house tussle on the West End.
She rolled over the bed to get the lay of the land, never letting the door to the room opposite of the one from which she’d entered from her sight. The Raven had to be hurting from what Her Ladyship heard was an especially embarrassing end. Rumor had it that just days before she’d been humiliated by that ghastly Imogene, but Lenore was surely still dangerous if vulnerable.
Ugh. Imogene. The thought of the wench soured Fiona’s flawless features. She’d been the bytch’s plaything early in her career before experience and youth evened the playing field for the years just before her move to FAWN. Somehow, it wasn’t surprising that, even at her age, she could still pluck the Raven on a special night. It was now up to her to roast whatever remained and send Lemarchand scuttling back to America with tail completely tucked, the Yanks made even more aware of what she could still do when motivated.
Moving back to her side of the plush battlefield, she waited for Lenore’s arrival, ready to make her trip across the pond a complete and utter failure.
LENORE LEMARCHAND:
Lemarchand arrived moments later, the doors on the far side of the suite swinging open as the American strode into the penthouse. Jaws already loosened by her Ladyship’s arrival, they did another round of dropping thanks to the Raven’s snug black bra and panties combo, both halves in crushed velvet. Rumors of a recent loss seemed to be grossly exaggerated, as Lenore strolled across the carpet like it was hers by rights, the FAWN star going so far as to trail her fingers across the glass separating the audience from the combatants.
Attention honed in on the former Intercontinental Champion, Lenore settled into her own stretching regimen, making sure the older Briton got a good look at the sleek power in her shoulders, belly, thighs and glutes. Brazen eye contact now, as the Raven slipped her fingers into the leg holes of her bottoms and ‘snapped’ the trim material against the curve of her buttocks. Fiona offered no reaction, so the Fair & Radiant Maiden climbed onto the bed and rose to her knees, hands outstretched and waiting for the ombudsman’s signal.
Fiona gave a look that has 'So you want to start there?" written all over it. Not taking more than a moment to respond, Waterford moved to the mattress, joining Lenore in a kneel. "You really want to see if I can do worse than dear Granny? You're going to find out, I can."
Her Ladyship raised her hands and wriggled her digits, finally lacing them with Lenore's as the arbiter motioned the match was underway. Immediately, Fiona swung her arms downward, taking the Raven's with hers, the hands now linked in an underhand grip that had Lenore wincing and raising to a full butt-clenching kneel. Waterford drew her head back and butted the thinly-covered chest of her foe, hoping the force of the impact will assist her in pulling Lenore off her base and plant her back to the bed coverings.
“NNNNNGGGHHH!” Lenore took the Headbutt flush in the sternum and she wavered on the spot, but didn’t actually go to the mattress until her Ladyship bulled forward to knock her flat. Hands still occupied by the clench, Lemarchand pushed up and out, trying to keep Waterford from breaking away to use her claws on more vulnerable targets. Cursing as the Englishwoman mounted her waist, the Raven grunted, “And you’re going to find out I don’t need to break bones to humiliate you worse than Park ever imagined!”
With that she kicked both legs up and threaded them under Fiona’s armpits. Waterford’s hunched position meant Lenore couldn’t just pull her backward, so she tensed her thighs and squeeeeeeeeeezed with all her considerable might.
But try as she might, a gritting Fiona held steady with Lenore's ivory legs in her possession. Waterford shook her head, letting the Raven know she's still in fighting shape, at least in this venue and that dear Imogene had nothing on her. Lady Waterford scooted up Lemarchand's sleek frame until her crotch was wedged to Lenore's chin.
"What happened to you, luv?" Instead of mounting her in a Face Sit just yet, Fiona squeezed her bracketing knees together, apparently trying to see how flushed she could make the face of the furiously wriggling Raven. "One...two…" Fiona's count was interrupted as Lenore's able to buck Waterford's undercarriage over her head, the Raven flipping to her chest, head pointed in the opposite direction with Fiona now behind her but unfortunately still in possession of her legs at the ankles.
Lenore twisted and wriggled, working hard to get off her back which was no easy task when Waterford still had hold of her ank-- “NNNNNNNGGGHHHH!”
Fiona pushed up, scuttled back and sat down hard, the Englishwoman purposely THUMPING the full weight of her derriere against Lenore’s churning rump. “Why, there’s quite a bit of give here, luv!” Waterford spoke to Lemarchand, but her teasing smirk was focused on the dozen or so guests. Pulling up on the American’s legs, she tucked Lenore’s shins under her arms and reefed a little harder. As Boston Crabs went it was far from ideal, yet the older brunette seemed to relish the cheek to cheek dominance. “Yes, quite a bit softer for a woman only in her early thirties, did Imogene take you across her knee for one of those legendary spankEERRRHHHH!”
Lenore twisted on one hip, reached back with her right hand and snatched a huge handful of her Ladyship’s dark hair. “Only one of us is getting a spanking tonight.” she promised. “And I’m pulling her hair right now!”
Waterford gave up one leg as the nasty Raven tugged violently on her dark locks. Her Ladyship pivoted to her right to loosen the force applied to her follicles, bringing Lenore's left leg with her. She folded the limb in at a torturous angle working the stem more than Lemarchand's spine, then threw elbows toward the Yank's temple, determined to teach Lemarchand it would be best to let go. Lenore's a poor pupil and with one leg freed, she's becoming harder to control. Fiona finally gave up both stems so she could fully turn to a forward-facing straddle and, ignoring Lenore's yanks as best she could, forces the Raven's face into the blanket covering the bed.
Ability to breathe impeded, Lenore released her grip to try and scramble out from under. She managed to slip from beneath but not without Waterford latching onto an ankle to trip the Raven on her final lunge of escape and sent Lenore crashing to the carpeted penthouse floor. Fiona quickly crawled to the side to bring Lenore's location back into view.
Lenore’s fall from the bed to the carpet could’ve been downright disastrous if she hadn’t worked her hands into position at just the right time. As it was her chest and belly still hit the heavy pile with an audible thump, but her nose and chin made no contact, meaning she was just short of breath and not out of the fig-- “Get back here, brat.” Her Ladyship tugged on Lemarchand’s captured ankle, scuffing tits and tummy against the carpet in rather painful fashion.
Growling low in the back of her throat, the Raven managed to twist over onto her back, though Waterford still retained control of that ankle. “You want me, slag?” she barked at Fiona. “Come get me!”
Kneeling at the edge of the bed, Lady Waterford bent down to do just that only to hiss in startled pain when Lenore crunched up and snatched a double handful of hair! Quick to press her feet against the older woman’s chest, Lemarchand rolled back as best she could and pistoned her legs to full extension, thus flinging Lady Fiona from the mattress to the carpet with a floor-shivering Monkey Flip!
Waterford ‘OOOOOFFFFHED!’ on impact and Lenore *knew* she’d lost her wind, so the Courtier crawled over, approaching just as the Englishwoman rolled onto her side. “Need to catch your breath, your Ladyship?” Lenore chided. “See if this helps.”
Snuggling in tummy to tummy in a north-south arrangement, the Raven slipped one beneath Fiona’s hip and slung the other over top. Ankles locked, she braced on one hand and punished the older brunette with a single colossal squeeze. “Heavens, your knickers are riding up!” Lemarchand said of her opponent’s slightly distended togs. “Whatever shall we do?”
“Kuuuhhh… keep your bloody hands away from me, bytchOOOOWWW!”
Lenore helped herself to a handful of those lacy unmentionables and made most of the rest disappear courtesy of a savage, sawing wedgie. “What happened to YOU, luv?” she chided. “Yoona really take everything you had lefHHHUUURRGGGGHHH!”
Waterford interrupted with an identical counter-Scissor and just like that it slowed to a near silent contest of wills, the only sounds the occasional angry grunt or an echoing ’SLAP!’ as the tangled brunettes targeted her opponent’s clenched glutes.
The dueling brunettes flexed their thighs and calves, trying to compress their counterpart as best they're able, while whacking away on increasingly rosy cheeks. A loud growl from Her Ladyship was simultaneous to a wild yank of black velvet deep between the Raven's buttocks and there's a suspect quiver in Lenore's lips unaccompanied by a return response to bring the fight back to Fiona. The veteran Brit wasn’t one to miss the otherwise subtle turn of events and she poured more pressure into her Scissors.
"Did that old bird ruin the Raven?" Waterford grunted between flexes, Lemarchand's legs responding but not nearly in kind, so much so she finally tried to peel away from the Duchess of East Anglia. Having worn her legs down with the success of the attacks, Fiona didn’t mind the end of the leggy war, at least enough to keep her dueling stems around the sweat-covered ivory midriff of the Raven. She let Lenore slide loose and scramble toward a wall, momentarily happy to have won another battle. However, knowing the war could quickly turn with such a foe, Lady Waterford struggled to her feet, ready to plant a Soccer Kick on the barely-covered backside of Lenore.
The quick pad of approaching feet clued Lemarchand in to the other brunette’s approach and she spun to the right about half a second before her Ladyship’s bare foot THWUMPED against the smooth penthouse wall! Fiona cursed and hobbled backward, her aggrieved leg humming like a tuning fork from thigh to toe and back again. As for Lenore, she ignored the grievous sting of the Brit induced wedgie to charge Waterford flat out, the usually elegant bendy-back settling for a simpler approach with the Spear she THWHUMPED deep into the pit of her opponent’s flat stomach! Fiona folded over the younger woman’s encroaching shoulder and while she didn’t go down, she did go back, as the Raven forced them across the carpet on a rough diagonal that ultimately ended with Fiona thumping down atop the king sized mattress.
Scrambling into an ungainly straddle of the prone brunette’s waist, Lenore put a palm to Waterford’s chest to steady her, then flattened her other hand into a paddle and paintbrushed the Duchess’ cheeks with a forehand-backhand combo! “That feel ruined to you, ma’am?” Lenore sneered half a second before she plunged both hands into Fiona’s hair. “Feels to me like AAARRRHHHHHH!” The Courtier’s follow-up ended in an angry shriek when Lady Fiona filled both hands with that modest velvet-sheathed bounty and squeezed for all she was worth!
The bed saw most of the battle for long breathy minutes, each warrior taking their time on top and each taking the catty arrows that often flew with a penthouse confrontation. For long seconds it seemed youth might be on its way to being served at Her Ladyship's expense when Fiona worked her right arm free and thrust a palm heel strike into Lenore's throat. A gagging, bug-eyed Raven rolled off Waterford and the mattress collapsing to the floor alongside a bedside dresser she toppled.The spilled contents include a silky, black half-robe that looked like it might suit Lenore's gear nicely. But it's the homestanding Waterford who plucked it from beside a coughing Lemarchand and slipped the tie out of its loops then decided to see how it fits around the Raven's throat. Waterford cinched the silken garrote tight, Lenore's face quickly flushing as the snarling Waterford, without a hint of shame, tried to collapse the Yank's windpipe.
“HHUUUURRRRK!” Lenore gurgled and thrashed, yanked from all fours to her knees by the power of Fiona’s malice. From behind and overhead, she heard her Ladyship’s voice cooing, “Look at all those lovely faces, trollop. Look at how much they enjoy your sufferrrrgghhh no, no, no. I don’t think so!” Lemarchand had reached back with both hands and clamped claws on either side of the Englishwoman’s flanks, but it didn’t get much beyond that before Waterford raised her left knee and grrrrrrrrround it between the younger woman’s shoulders.
Lenore gagged, an ugly ratcheting sound made all the worse by her increasingly flushed features. Scoring her tormentor’s hips with a parting slash, the Courtier balled one hand into a desperate fist and brought it THWHUMPING down on Waterford’s plant foot half a dozen times! The Duchess of East Anglia sneered and stumbled a little, her grip on the garrote loosening enough for Lenore to draw a rasping breath. Then she clambering to her feet, but rather than try to remove the silk belt, she groped over one shoulder and managed to snatch a double handful of Waterford’s dark hair. In the same instant she went up on tiptoes, possibly searching for a Jawbreaker or Snapmare to break the Briton’s grip entirely.
But Fiona shifts her head to the opposite side from Lenore's grasping, moving her grip to that side as well. And instead of the Raven snapmaring Waterford to the carpet, Her Ladyship belt-mared Lemarchand through a front flip, Lenore landing on her tailbone. The Englishwoman loosened one end of the silk wrapping around Lenore's neck and whipped it around and off, giving one hell of a burn around the already ravaged neck of the Raven. Fiona tossed it aside and snuggled in close, dropping to her haunches behind the seated and wincing Raven. She slipped her arms around the head and neck of her foe, snaking and locking the limbs in a Sleeper, cutting off the blood flow to the Raven's brain. She leaned into the clutching grip, putting most of her mass into the back and neck of the faltering American. "You should have kept padding your record with the low brows over in Orlando, sweetie. It's more your speed.”
The ache shooting up from her tailbone to her neck was fierce to put it mildly, unfortunately Lenore didn’t have the luxury to focus on it because her Ladyship was busy trying to put her to sleep! Heels skidding and scraping against the carpet, she pushed back and in to the Englishwoman, Lemarchand searching for any angle that’ll loosen the clamp around her neck. These efforts provide an energetic show to those assembled, though they didn’t seem to do much for the Raven’s respiration, as evidenced by the slackening pace of her efforts.
Still, slackening didn’t mean done, as evidenced by the hand she plunged into Fiona’s dark hair, just above the nape of her neck. Wrenching back with enough force to make Waterford utter something extremely unladylike, Lemarchand worked hard to burrow her muzzle into Lady Fiona’s elbow, presumably in a desperate effort to chomp her way out. This was actually a feint, Lenore’s real trick laid in her other hand, currently spidering between her lower back and Fiona’s hips, the Courtier more than willing to claw British crotch if she could only reach.
The 'bait and switch' works like a dream. Or a nightmare for Waterford who suddenly had a set of clenching fingers delving into her kitty. Losing a significant portion of her concentration, Waterford's grip on Lenore got sloppy and as the Raven bore down on the claw hold, she's able to shake the mewling Lady Fiona off from around her noggin. Rising in an effort to retreat and free herself, Fiona founf the now kneeling Lenore twisting to face her and shifting her gamechanging grip into an underhanded thrust that pushed the Duchess to her stockinged tiptoes, hazel eyes watering.
Fiona threw a knee that weakly thumped off Lenore's shoulder when Fee couldn’t find it in her to fully unlock her knees, the caps joined together to try and cut off easy access to the juncture of her thighs but too late. "Does it hurt as much after menopause?" Lenore asked. Waterford snorts angrily, finding enough to spin the Raven's braincase with an echoing bytch slap.
The slap made both ladies cry out, Lenore because of the sting in her cheek and jaw, Fiona because of the reflexive clench of her attacker’s claw. “You want to slap, your Ladyship?” Lemarchand snarled as she continued to clamp and gouge at that midnight blue lace. “Then I hope you don’t mind if I bite!” Waterford most certainly did, but this didn’t stop Lenore from twisting her head and leaning in to sink her teeth into the Englishwoman’s left thigh!
“VILE BYTCH!” Fiona shrieked to the rafters as the Raven chomped and gnashed. Attention understandably divided by the bite and the claw, Fiona settled for plunging both hands into Lenore’s hair so she could whip her noggin from side to side with a series of pitiless YANKS! Lemarchand keened, then wailed as her bite gave way in the face of the Duchess’ determination. Waterford’s plan wasn’t without its flaws however, as she discovered when the kneeling brunette abandoned her claw for a loose grip around the older woman’s upper thighs. A single swift tug dropped Fiona to her butt with a heavy thump, then Lenore barreled atop her in a furiously frantic Full Body Pin, the Raven seeking the Double Leg Grapevine that’d properly torture the nefarious noble.
But the contract Fiona had clearly signed with Beelzebub to remain forever young or at least looking and acting fifteen years her junior came to her aid as rolled both she and the Raven through one, two, three half-turns, leaving the Englishwoman on top. Planting a left palm into the carpet next to Lenore's head to push up and create some space, she sent a right forearm smash into the Courtier's jaw. And another. And another. With Lenore's neck loosening considerably and her legs no longer trying to creep around Fiona's, instead leaden against the floor, Waterford pushed up to a straddle and stared down at the dazed Raven, her foe's dark eyes glassy.
"You want to get personal, do you?" the Duchess growled. Fiona shoved to vertical, backing through the ivory stems of her foe, grabbing each ankle as she did and lifting Lenore's legs high and wide. Her Ladyship didn’t bother with any threat, she only brought retribution, dropping a brutal knee into the womanhood of the Raven, the groan from the men on the other side of the glass audible even in the war zone. The sound brought a smile to Fiona's face even as Lemarchand sat bolt upright, her jaw dropped and tears leaking slowly from the corner of her eyes.
"You Yanks never did have the stomach for a REAL fight." Waterford grounf the cap into Lenore's throbbing mound before disdainfully pie-facing the Raven. The Courtier ended flat on her back before curdling into a fetal ball in front of the resplendent Lady Waterford.
Lenore could barely groan, let alone answer which was exactly how Fiona wanted it. Taking a moment to adjust her roughly-treated togs, the British brunette bent down and filled one hand with the fallen catfighter’s hair. “On your feet, trollop. I said on your feet!”
Several more scalp searing tugs force Lenore to stand or at least double over until her Ladyship lowered a shoulder and slipped that arm through the American’s thighs. Stifling a grunt, she bent her knees and straightened up, muscling Lemarchand across her shoulders in a domineering Fireman’s Carry. Turning in a circle, she winked at the guests and paddled a few hard SLAPS offa the Courtier’s backside as she padded her way across the floor to the bed. Reaching their destination, the Duchess of East Anglia sniffed, “Just so we’re clear, I don’t make it a habit to share a bed with trash. But in your case I shall make a BRIEF exception.”
With that she braced her free hand against Lenore’s thigh and pushed up while simultaneously tilting her other shoulder down, all the better to drop the Raven onto the mattress with a soft THWHUMP. Lemarchand hit flat, let out a breathless groan and started to curl up aga--“MMMMMMMPPPPPPHHHHH!”
Fiona climbed onto the mattress and settled down atop the Courtier’s mug in a full weight Reverse Face Sit. “Oh my yes, that IS pleasant.” her Ladyship admitted as she worked her knees a little wider, all the better to sweep her undercarriage up and down the length of her prey’s face. “Let’s see now, how should I finish you?” Fiona sank her claws into Lenore’s breasts, laughed merrily when the squealing Yank tried to brush them aside.
“NNNNNHHHH STAAHHHHHHB!” came from beneath those lace-sheathed cheeks, which widened Fiona’s smile that much more.
“Hmmmmhhh, mauling these isn’t nearly as satisfying as I’d hoped. I know!”
Waterford halved her grip, leaned down with that free hand and snatched hold of the Raven’s velvet waistband. This she promptly yanked up and out at a wicked near forty-five degrees, most of the material vanishing in a single heart-stopping second!
“AAAAAAAHHHH FAAAAAAAAAAAAHK!” Lenore sobbed. “STAAAAHP! JUHSSTAAAAAAAHP! AYEGIBHUP!!”
Fiona bared her teeth, jerked the material from side to side. “What was that, luv? You’re a little muffled.”
Lemarchand slapped both hands against the mattress and continued to bawl her surrender, unfortunately Fiona didn’t acknowledge it as such until the ombudsman cleared his throat quite loudly. “Oh all right.”
Her Ladyship slid back to the floor, grabbed a final handful of hair and dragged the mercifully unconscious Raven onto the carpet. Making a point to step ON Lenore’s belly as she returned to the bed, Lady Fiona Waterford looked to the ombudsman and demanded, “Get this trash out of my penthouse. AFTER you fetch my champagne.”
Just a heads up, don't read the piece below unless you've already read the Bly Finishing School story, as this serves as an epilogue / link between that story and the Raven's match at the upcoming Summer Swelter PPV.
Enjoy,
~RF
*******
LADY FIONA WATERFORD:
Lady Waterford put away childish things after being sent packing from FAWN and America, not to mention being hospitalized for days, by the disgusting Yoona Park. Not only had she left the ring behind, but every other fighting venue to cleanse herself and move to the next chapter.
She’d taken up the occasional triathlon to keep herself in the same immaculate shape as twenty years ago, or frankly, better. Thus, when she walked out of her anteroom in striking, midnight blue lace lingerie for tonight’s festivities, there were dropped jaws from the few VIPS in attendance, the men seated in couches behind a glass wall. As they recovered and sipped their cocktails, a smirking Fiona stretched with their view in mind.
Considering the opponent, the cash payout, and her foe’s less-than-ideal mental state, the perfect confluence of circumstances led to her signing on the dotted, contracting for this apartment house tussle on the West End.
She rolled over the bed to get the lay of the land, never letting the door to the room opposite of the one from which she’d entered from her sight. The Raven had to be hurting from what Her Ladyship heard was an especially embarrassing end. Rumor had it that just days before she’d been humiliated by that ghastly Imogene, but Lenore was surely still dangerous if vulnerable.
Ugh. Imogene. The thought of the wench soured Fiona’s flawless features. She’d been the bytch’s plaything early in her career before experience and youth evened the playing field for the years just before her move to FAWN. Somehow, it wasn’t surprising that, even at her age, she could still pluck the Raven on a special night. It was now up to her to roast whatever remained and send Lemarchand scuttling back to America with tail completely tucked, the Yanks made even more aware of what she could still do when motivated.
Moving back to her side of the plush battlefield, she waited for Lenore’s arrival, ready to make her trip across the pond a complete and utter failure.
LENORE LEMARCHAND:
Lemarchand arrived moments later, the doors on the far side of the suite swinging open as the American strode into the penthouse. Jaws already loosened by her Ladyship’s arrival, they did another round of dropping thanks to the Raven’s snug black bra and panties combo, both halves in crushed velvet. Rumors of a recent loss seemed to be grossly exaggerated, as Lenore strolled across the carpet like it was hers by rights, the FAWN star going so far as to trail her fingers across the glass separating the audience from the combatants.
Attention honed in on the former Intercontinental Champion, Lenore settled into her own stretching regimen, making sure the older Briton got a good look at the sleek power in her shoulders, belly, thighs and glutes. Brazen eye contact now, as the Raven slipped her fingers into the leg holes of her bottoms and ‘snapped’ the trim material against the curve of her buttocks. Fiona offered no reaction, so the Fair & Radiant Maiden climbed onto the bed and rose to her knees, hands outstretched and waiting for the ombudsman’s signal.
Fiona gave a look that has 'So you want to start there?" written all over it. Not taking more than a moment to respond, Waterford moved to the mattress, joining Lenore in a kneel. "You really want to see if I can do worse than dear Granny? You're going to find out, I can."
Her Ladyship raised her hands and wriggled her digits, finally lacing them with Lenore's as the arbiter motioned the match was underway. Immediately, Fiona swung her arms downward, taking the Raven's with hers, the hands now linked in an underhand grip that had Lenore wincing and raising to a full butt-clenching kneel. Waterford drew her head back and butted the thinly-covered chest of her foe, hoping the force of the impact will assist her in pulling Lenore off her base and plant her back to the bed coverings.
“NNNNNGGGHHH!” Lenore took the Headbutt flush in the sternum and she wavered on the spot, but didn’t actually go to the mattress until her Ladyship bulled forward to knock her flat. Hands still occupied by the clench, Lemarchand pushed up and out, trying to keep Waterford from breaking away to use her claws on more vulnerable targets. Cursing as the Englishwoman mounted her waist, the Raven grunted, “And you’re going to find out I don’t need to break bones to humiliate you worse than Park ever imagined!”
With that she kicked both legs up and threaded them under Fiona’s armpits. Waterford’s hunched position meant Lenore couldn’t just pull her backward, so she tensed her thighs and squeeeeeeeeeezed with all her considerable might.
But try as she might, a gritting Fiona held steady with Lenore's ivory legs in her possession. Waterford shook her head, letting the Raven know she's still in fighting shape, at least in this venue and that dear Imogene had nothing on her. Lady Waterford scooted up Lemarchand's sleek frame until her crotch was wedged to Lenore's chin.
"What happened to you, luv?" Instead of mounting her in a Face Sit just yet, Fiona squeezed her bracketing knees together, apparently trying to see how flushed she could make the face of the furiously wriggling Raven. "One...two…" Fiona's count was interrupted as Lenore's able to buck Waterford's undercarriage over her head, the Raven flipping to her chest, head pointed in the opposite direction with Fiona now behind her but unfortunately still in possession of her legs at the ankles.
Lenore twisted and wriggled, working hard to get off her back which was no easy task when Waterford still had hold of her ank-- “NNNNNNNGGGHHHH!”
Fiona pushed up, scuttled back and sat down hard, the Englishwoman purposely THUMPING the full weight of her derriere against Lenore’s churning rump. “Why, there’s quite a bit of give here, luv!” Waterford spoke to Lemarchand, but her teasing smirk was focused on the dozen or so guests. Pulling up on the American’s legs, she tucked Lenore’s shins under her arms and reefed a little harder. As Boston Crabs went it was far from ideal, yet the older brunette seemed to relish the cheek to cheek dominance. “Yes, quite a bit softer for a woman only in her early thirties, did Imogene take you across her knee for one of those legendary spankEERRRHHHH!”
Lenore twisted on one hip, reached back with her right hand and snatched a huge handful of her Ladyship’s dark hair. “Only one of us is getting a spanking tonight.” she promised. “And I’m pulling her hair right now!”
Waterford gave up one leg as the nasty Raven tugged violently on her dark locks. Her Ladyship pivoted to her right to loosen the force applied to her follicles, bringing Lenore's left leg with her. She folded the limb in at a torturous angle working the stem more than Lemarchand's spine, then threw elbows toward the Yank's temple, determined to teach Lemarchand it would be best to let go. Lenore's a poor pupil and with one leg freed, she's becoming harder to control. Fiona finally gave up both stems so she could fully turn to a forward-facing straddle and, ignoring Lenore's yanks as best she could, forces the Raven's face into the blanket covering the bed.
Ability to breathe impeded, Lenore released her grip to try and scramble out from under. She managed to slip from beneath but not without Waterford latching onto an ankle to trip the Raven on her final lunge of escape and sent Lenore crashing to the carpeted penthouse floor. Fiona quickly crawled to the side to bring Lenore's location back into view.
Lenore’s fall from the bed to the carpet could’ve been downright disastrous if she hadn’t worked her hands into position at just the right time. As it was her chest and belly still hit the heavy pile with an audible thump, but her nose and chin made no contact, meaning she was just short of breath and not out of the fig-- “Get back here, brat.” Her Ladyship tugged on Lemarchand’s captured ankle, scuffing tits and tummy against the carpet in rather painful fashion.
Growling low in the back of her throat, the Raven managed to twist over onto her back, though Waterford still retained control of that ankle. “You want me, slag?” she barked at Fiona. “Come get me!”
Kneeling at the edge of the bed, Lady Waterford bent down to do just that only to hiss in startled pain when Lenore crunched up and snatched a double handful of hair! Quick to press her feet against the older woman’s chest, Lemarchand rolled back as best she could and pistoned her legs to full extension, thus flinging Lady Fiona from the mattress to the carpet with a floor-shivering Monkey Flip!
Waterford ‘OOOOOFFFFHED!’ on impact and Lenore *knew* she’d lost her wind, so the Courtier crawled over, approaching just as the Englishwoman rolled onto her side. “Need to catch your breath, your Ladyship?” Lenore chided. “See if this helps.”
Snuggling in tummy to tummy in a north-south arrangement, the Raven slipped one beneath Fiona’s hip and slung the other over top. Ankles locked, she braced on one hand and punished the older brunette with a single colossal squeeze. “Heavens, your knickers are riding up!” Lemarchand said of her opponent’s slightly distended togs. “Whatever shall we do?”
“Kuuuhhh… keep your bloody hands away from me, bytchOOOOWWW!”
Lenore helped herself to a handful of those lacy unmentionables and made most of the rest disappear courtesy of a savage, sawing wedgie. “What happened to YOU, luv?” she chided. “Yoona really take everything you had lefHHHUUURRGGGGHHH!”
Waterford interrupted with an identical counter-Scissor and just like that it slowed to a near silent contest of wills, the only sounds the occasional angry grunt or an echoing ’SLAP!’ as the tangled brunettes targeted her opponent’s clenched glutes.
The dueling brunettes flexed their thighs and calves, trying to compress their counterpart as best they're able, while whacking away on increasingly rosy cheeks. A loud growl from Her Ladyship was simultaneous to a wild yank of black velvet deep between the Raven's buttocks and there's a suspect quiver in Lenore's lips unaccompanied by a return response to bring the fight back to Fiona. The veteran Brit wasn’t one to miss the otherwise subtle turn of events and she poured more pressure into her Scissors.
"Did that old bird ruin the Raven?" Waterford grunted between flexes, Lemarchand's legs responding but not nearly in kind, so much so she finally tried to peel away from the Duchess of East Anglia. Having worn her legs down with the success of the attacks, Fiona didn’t mind the end of the leggy war, at least enough to keep her dueling stems around the sweat-covered ivory midriff of the Raven. She let Lenore slide loose and scramble toward a wall, momentarily happy to have won another battle. However, knowing the war could quickly turn with such a foe, Lady Waterford struggled to her feet, ready to plant a Soccer Kick on the barely-covered backside of Lenore.
The quick pad of approaching feet clued Lemarchand in to the other brunette’s approach and she spun to the right about half a second before her Ladyship’s bare foot THWUMPED against the smooth penthouse wall! Fiona cursed and hobbled backward, her aggrieved leg humming like a tuning fork from thigh to toe and back again. As for Lenore, she ignored the grievous sting of the Brit induced wedgie to charge Waterford flat out, the usually elegant bendy-back settling for a simpler approach with the Spear she THWHUMPED deep into the pit of her opponent’s flat stomach! Fiona folded over the younger woman’s encroaching shoulder and while she didn’t go down, she did go back, as the Raven forced them across the carpet on a rough diagonal that ultimately ended with Fiona thumping down atop the king sized mattress.
Scrambling into an ungainly straddle of the prone brunette’s waist, Lenore put a palm to Waterford’s chest to steady her, then flattened her other hand into a paddle and paintbrushed the Duchess’ cheeks with a forehand-backhand combo! “That feel ruined to you, ma’am?” Lenore sneered half a second before she plunged both hands into Fiona’s hair. “Feels to me like AAARRRHHHHHH!” The Courtier’s follow-up ended in an angry shriek when Lady Fiona filled both hands with that modest velvet-sheathed bounty and squeezed for all she was worth!
The bed saw most of the battle for long breathy minutes, each warrior taking their time on top and each taking the catty arrows that often flew with a penthouse confrontation. For long seconds it seemed youth might be on its way to being served at Her Ladyship's expense when Fiona worked her right arm free and thrust a palm heel strike into Lenore's throat. A gagging, bug-eyed Raven rolled off Waterford and the mattress collapsing to the floor alongside a bedside dresser she toppled.The spilled contents include a silky, black half-robe that looked like it might suit Lenore's gear nicely. But it's the homestanding Waterford who plucked it from beside a coughing Lemarchand and slipped the tie out of its loops then decided to see how it fits around the Raven's throat. Waterford cinched the silken garrote tight, Lenore's face quickly flushing as the snarling Waterford, without a hint of shame, tried to collapse the Yank's windpipe.
“HHUUUURRRRK!” Lenore gurgled and thrashed, yanked from all fours to her knees by the power of Fiona’s malice. From behind and overhead, she heard her Ladyship’s voice cooing, “Look at all those lovely faces, trollop. Look at how much they enjoy your sufferrrrgghhh no, no, no. I don’t think so!” Lemarchand had reached back with both hands and clamped claws on either side of the Englishwoman’s flanks, but it didn’t get much beyond that before Waterford raised her left knee and grrrrrrrrround it between the younger woman’s shoulders.
Lenore gagged, an ugly ratcheting sound made all the worse by her increasingly flushed features. Scoring her tormentor’s hips with a parting slash, the Courtier balled one hand into a desperate fist and brought it THWHUMPING down on Waterford’s plant foot half a dozen times! The Duchess of East Anglia sneered and stumbled a little, her grip on the garrote loosening enough for Lenore to draw a rasping breath. Then she clambering to her feet, but rather than try to remove the silk belt, she groped over one shoulder and managed to snatch a double handful of Waterford’s dark hair. In the same instant she went up on tiptoes, possibly searching for a Jawbreaker or Snapmare to break the Briton’s grip entirely.
But Fiona shifts her head to the opposite side from Lenore's grasping, moving her grip to that side as well. And instead of the Raven snapmaring Waterford to the carpet, Her Ladyship belt-mared Lemarchand through a front flip, Lenore landing on her tailbone. The Englishwoman loosened one end of the silk wrapping around Lenore's neck and whipped it around and off, giving one hell of a burn around the already ravaged neck of the Raven. Fiona tossed it aside and snuggled in close, dropping to her haunches behind the seated and wincing Raven. She slipped her arms around the head and neck of her foe, snaking and locking the limbs in a Sleeper, cutting off the blood flow to the Raven's brain. She leaned into the clutching grip, putting most of her mass into the back and neck of the faltering American. "You should have kept padding your record with the low brows over in Orlando, sweetie. It's more your speed.”
The ache shooting up from her tailbone to her neck was fierce to put it mildly, unfortunately Lenore didn’t have the luxury to focus on it because her Ladyship was busy trying to put her to sleep! Heels skidding and scraping against the carpet, she pushed back and in to the Englishwoman, Lemarchand searching for any angle that’ll loosen the clamp around her neck. These efforts provide an energetic show to those assembled, though they didn’t seem to do much for the Raven’s respiration, as evidenced by the slackening pace of her efforts.
Still, slackening didn’t mean done, as evidenced by the hand she plunged into Fiona’s dark hair, just above the nape of her neck. Wrenching back with enough force to make Waterford utter something extremely unladylike, Lemarchand worked hard to burrow her muzzle into Lady Fiona’s elbow, presumably in a desperate effort to chomp her way out. This was actually a feint, Lenore’s real trick laid in her other hand, currently spidering between her lower back and Fiona’s hips, the Courtier more than willing to claw British crotch if she could only reach.
The 'bait and switch' works like a dream. Or a nightmare for Waterford who suddenly had a set of clenching fingers delving into her kitty. Losing a significant portion of her concentration, Waterford's grip on Lenore got sloppy and as the Raven bore down on the claw hold, she's able to shake the mewling Lady Fiona off from around her noggin. Rising in an effort to retreat and free herself, Fiona founf the now kneeling Lenore twisting to face her and shifting her gamechanging grip into an underhanded thrust that pushed the Duchess to her stockinged tiptoes, hazel eyes watering.
Fiona threw a knee that weakly thumped off Lenore's shoulder when Fee couldn’t find it in her to fully unlock her knees, the caps joined together to try and cut off easy access to the juncture of her thighs but too late. "Does it hurt as much after menopause?" Lenore asked. Waterford snorts angrily, finding enough to spin the Raven's braincase with an echoing bytch slap.
The slap made both ladies cry out, Lenore because of the sting in her cheek and jaw, Fiona because of the reflexive clench of her attacker’s claw. “You want to slap, your Ladyship?” Lemarchand snarled as she continued to clamp and gouge at that midnight blue lace. “Then I hope you don’t mind if I bite!” Waterford most certainly did, but this didn’t stop Lenore from twisting her head and leaning in to sink her teeth into the Englishwoman’s left thigh!
“VILE BYTCH!” Fiona shrieked to the rafters as the Raven chomped and gnashed. Attention understandably divided by the bite and the claw, Fiona settled for plunging both hands into Lenore’s hair so she could whip her noggin from side to side with a series of pitiless YANKS! Lemarchand keened, then wailed as her bite gave way in the face of the Duchess’ determination. Waterford’s plan wasn’t without its flaws however, as she discovered when the kneeling brunette abandoned her claw for a loose grip around the older woman’s upper thighs. A single swift tug dropped Fiona to her butt with a heavy thump, then Lenore barreled atop her in a furiously frantic Full Body Pin, the Raven seeking the Double Leg Grapevine that’d properly torture the nefarious noble.
But the contract Fiona had clearly signed with Beelzebub to remain forever young or at least looking and acting fifteen years her junior came to her aid as rolled both she and the Raven through one, two, three half-turns, leaving the Englishwoman on top. Planting a left palm into the carpet next to Lenore's head to push up and create some space, she sent a right forearm smash into the Courtier's jaw. And another. And another. With Lenore's neck loosening considerably and her legs no longer trying to creep around Fiona's, instead leaden against the floor, Waterford pushed up to a straddle and stared down at the dazed Raven, her foe's dark eyes glassy.
"You want to get personal, do you?" the Duchess growled. Fiona shoved to vertical, backing through the ivory stems of her foe, grabbing each ankle as she did and lifting Lenore's legs high and wide. Her Ladyship didn’t bother with any threat, she only brought retribution, dropping a brutal knee into the womanhood of the Raven, the groan from the men on the other side of the glass audible even in the war zone. The sound brought a smile to Fiona's face even as Lemarchand sat bolt upright, her jaw dropped and tears leaking slowly from the corner of her eyes.
"You Yanks never did have the stomach for a REAL fight." Waterford grounf the cap into Lenore's throbbing mound before disdainfully pie-facing the Raven. The Courtier ended flat on her back before curdling into a fetal ball in front of the resplendent Lady Waterford.
Lenore could barely groan, let alone answer which was exactly how Fiona wanted it. Taking a moment to adjust her roughly-treated togs, the British brunette bent down and filled one hand with the fallen catfighter’s hair. “On your feet, trollop. I said on your feet!”
Several more scalp searing tugs force Lenore to stand or at least double over until her Ladyship lowered a shoulder and slipped that arm through the American’s thighs. Stifling a grunt, she bent her knees and straightened up, muscling Lemarchand across her shoulders in a domineering Fireman’s Carry. Turning in a circle, she winked at the guests and paddled a few hard SLAPS offa the Courtier’s backside as she padded her way across the floor to the bed. Reaching their destination, the Duchess of East Anglia sniffed, “Just so we’re clear, I don’t make it a habit to share a bed with trash. But in your case I shall make a BRIEF exception.”
With that she braced her free hand against Lenore’s thigh and pushed up while simultaneously tilting her other shoulder down, all the better to drop the Raven onto the mattress with a soft THWHUMP. Lemarchand hit flat, let out a breathless groan and started to curl up aga--“MMMMMMMPPPPPPHHHHH!”
Fiona climbed onto the mattress and settled down atop the Courtier’s mug in a full weight Reverse Face Sit. “Oh my yes, that IS pleasant.” her Ladyship admitted as she worked her knees a little wider, all the better to sweep her undercarriage up and down the length of her prey’s face. “Let’s see now, how should I finish you?” Fiona sank her claws into Lenore’s breasts, laughed merrily when the squealing Yank tried to brush them aside.
“NNNNNHHHH STAAHHHHHHB!” came from beneath those lace-sheathed cheeks, which widened Fiona’s smile that much more.
“Hmmmmhhh, mauling these isn’t nearly as satisfying as I’d hoped. I know!”
Waterford halved her grip, leaned down with that free hand and snatched hold of the Raven’s velvet waistband. This she promptly yanked up and out at a wicked near forty-five degrees, most of the material vanishing in a single heart-stopping second!
“AAAAAAAHHHH FAAAAAAAAAAAAHK!” Lenore sobbed. “STAAAAHP! JUHSSTAAAAAAAHP! AYEGIBHUP!!”
Fiona bared her teeth, jerked the material from side to side. “What was that, luv? You’re a little muffled.”
Lemarchand slapped both hands against the mattress and continued to bawl her surrender, unfortunately Fiona didn’t acknowledge it as such until the ombudsman cleared his throat quite loudly. “Oh all right.”
Her Ladyship slid back to the floor, grabbed a final handful of hair and dragged the mercifully unconscious Raven onto the carpet. Making a point to step ON Lenore’s belly as she returned to the bed, Lady Fiona Waterford looked to the ombudsman and demanded, “Get this trash out of my penthouse. AFTER you fetch my champagne.”