House Bitch 02 Panty Slut Match

As commanded, Bec left to change and grab her gloves. I nervously awaited my fate. As I kneeled before Mistress, she stroked my cheek and hair to make me relax. Without warning, she slapped me. The impact caused me to rock to my side. Grabbing my chin, she hissed at me, "Slut. Why do I bother with you? You're so fucking disobedient. I must be stupid to waste my time with a worthless cunt like you."

I meekly answered, "Yes, Mistress," and asked her "Please teach me. Please make me a more deserving slave." She just stared at me.

Ms. Bec strode out, ready for a match, ready to punish me for my transgressions, ready to treat me like the panty slut I am. She wore padded, black soft leather gloves. While I was a disappointment, Mistress valued me, or so I hoped, and she didn't want her slut damaged from bare fists. Bec wore red bikini that only just covered her. It resembled foil, reflected light, and accentuated her figure and assets. The string-bikini panties sat low on her hips. The camel toe suggested her waxed mound. I wanted to wear them and stroke my cock and fuck and be fucked by these powerful women. I am a slut whose purpose in life is to serve and service Mistress as she demands.

Mistress looked over Ms. with and approving, lustful eye. Ms. Bec stood, her chest heaving as she looked forward to the match. "Sluts," said Mistress, "I expect you to fight. I don't want my pets to damage or hurt one another, but I want a contest. Somebody is going to get fucked. Somebody will get the pleasure of fucking me, and that person will be the winner. Do you like that thought, my pets?" she asked. We nodded in agreement. "The winner," she announced, "also gets to have her or his way with the loser." My mind raced with the possibilities. Mistress letting me fuck her, letting me put Bec in her place. Bec had similar thoughts, I'm sure. She's competitive, domineering, and sadistic.

"Pets," Mistress told us, "the rules are simple. You fight. Bec is allowed to punch, but you, slut boy, are not. She may slap, but you may not. Neither of you is to damage my property, which is what you are, both of you. This is a submission fight. The loser must submit. Do you have any questions?"

We both shook our heads and said, "No Mistress."

Motioning to us, Mistress commanded "Begin."

We circled. Bec was angry, but she was also aroused. She'd seen Mistress fuck me in the ass with a strap on and wanted the same. She wanted the privilege of fucking Mistress. I wanted the same, to fuck Mistress, to show her my submission to her will by pleasing her, to earn her regard.

Bec attacked me. She charged and slapped me. The sting of the black leather on my face brought out my fight. She drove a gloved fist into my stomach, throwing all of her weight into it. As Ms. prepared to follow up with another fist, I wrapped my arms around her in a bear hug and threw her to the ground. We grappled, arms around one another in violent embrace. She pounded a tattoo on my back as I struggled to get her arms under control and pin her. She was tough. Mistress had trained her well, trained her personally, and trained her on me. Rather than being Bec's bitch boy jobber, I could now fight back. She was going to suck my cock and swallow my cum.

We rolled and I wrapped my arm around her neck in a headlock. Bec reacted by driving a fist into my stomach. She followed by grabbing my balls and squeezing. It was enough to make me loosen my grip.

"No damage!" yelled Mistress. Bec gave her a defiant glare, but it lasted only a moment. She too lived to serve Mistress. She lowered her eyes, and turned to attack again.

Leaping, Bec wrapped her legs around my waist and began squeezing for all she was worth. Her arms wrapped around my head and pulled it into her warm breasts. I pushed her chin up with my hands, but she only tightened her grips. Mistress had trained her well. Bec'a legs were like steel. I dropped to my knees and then on top of Bec. The fall caused her to loosen her arms a bit. I rolled back, both of us exposing our stomachs to the ceiling. Bec was having a tougher time maintaining her scissor hold. I rolled to the side, putting us both on our bellies. Lifting up, I stretched Bec's back and broke her grip. She scrambled to her feet and we faced off once again.

We were panting; our bodies had a light sheen, my cock strained against her bikini panties. I goaded Bec by telling her "My cock loves your bikini. Is your pussy as tight? I'm going to love fucking you, bitch." Mistress let out a little smile; she liked her sluts to have spirit. Ms. and I closed, hands grasping for an advantage, she slapping and punching me, me trying to subdue her. In our grappling, Bec tripped me and I fell to my hands and knees. She responded with a standing head scissors.

I thought my head would explode. Her thighs were muscular and thick. My ears were pounding. I could barely hear her mocking, asking "How do you like tough cunt? How do you like it slut? Are you ready to submit, slut? ARE YOU?! ARE YOU MOTHER FUCKER?!" she yelled.

I refused to answer. I knew that if I didn't act quickly, I'd pass out. In desperation, I lunged backward, hoping to throw Bec backward and break her lock. It didn't go quite as expected, but it worked well enough. I arched my body backward, but Bec's weight was too much to throw her backward. Instead, we fell to the side, where she landed with an "Oof!" I pried open her legs, not in the way that I intended to spread them when I won, and rolled out, my neck sore, but still able to fight. We rushed at each other and collided in a mass of hot, warm, wet, sexually-aroused violence, and fell to the floor. Unplanned, unscripted, we scissored, me on top, grinding my engorged, bikini-restrained cock into her cunt. Our battle was now a sex fight. I'd only fantasized about a frottage battle, but now I was in one. I had seen Mistress fight in a tribbing battle, grinding, bumping, and humping her beautiful cunt against another beauty, but had merely imagined what it was like.

My bikini-clad cock humped, bumped, and ground Bec's bikini covered pussy. I held Bec's legs part as I ground my hard cock into her cunt. We glared at each other fiercely. Using her right hand, she grabbed my ass and pulled me tighter. With her left, Bec alternately grabbed my throat, slapped me, or pinched my nipples. It didn't take long for me to realize that I'd made a mistake. I was playing Bec's game by Bec's rules. If I didn't stop the frottage, I'd cum soon and lose. I tried pulling away, but Ms. would have none of it.

"No you don't," she growled. Having had more than her share of trib matches, she was in her element. As I tried to pull away, Bec reversed our positions, leveraging me on my back. She was known on top and controlling the action. Her face said it all: a predatory, dominant, huntress. She had an ecstatic aggressive look in her eyes. She took too long, slow, hard grinds against my cock. Hands slapped me, choked me, teased my nipples. I was building up to an orgasm. I was going to lose.

"Fuck it," I thought; "If I'm going down, I'm going down in glory." I returned Bec's grind and hump. She too was building up to a climax. Her breathing had changed to deep, chest-filling breaths; a moan and a yell of pleasure followed. It was close, but we both came. My, rather Ms. Bec's, bikini was filled with warm, sticky, creamy cum. My hips convulsed as we locked eyes. Bec's shuddering, grinding orgasm was powerful; her breathing changed to panting, as she struggled to recover from her climax.

Mistress walked toward us. "What am I to do with you?" she asked rhetorically. "I'm deeply displeased. You sluts failed me. You both came; you both lost," she said with a tone of resignation.

We looked up at our Mistress. We wanted to please her, but had failed. We clearly needed more work. Mistress Jamie would see to that.