Off the Court

...A Continuation of 'On The Court'...

Off The Court Part 11

by moanalo

~~~~ Ouch ~~~~

I don't know if I can continue. My body is wasted and crippled... Even my sex and breasts are throbbing uncomfortably......and my mind isn't able to process any of it.

What has she done to me?

The tears aren't helping as I try to push my upper body off the mat, but my arms quiver with exhaustion hindering that effort. And now I really feel the soreness in my breasts as they hang between my outstretched arms, I blink my eyes and the tears sting. I've never felt my breasts and nipples so swollen and aching. The constant grinding of our bodies has done a 'real number' on them.

If I ever needed a 'second wind', now is the time.

I want to look over at her. No, I 'have to' look at her, to see what she wants to do. And there she is, staring right back at me, Monique, what a tough bitch. She looks a little weary of me and we say nothing, that silence is awkward and unnerving. Our eyes and bodies posture in a more guarded way, yet I think she wants to keep going. But do I? Yes, yes I think I do.

But I have to turn away to hide my emotions, it scares the hell out of me when I realize, if we do keep going, this will not end until one of us is truly pounded, or fucked, into submission. My heart races at the mere thought of that word 'fucked'. I am not at all comfortable with the place it comes from, or why it is suddenly in the forefront of my mind. Does Monique want to do that to me? That causes me to whimper, and then a sob slips out of my mouth because I don't know if I can win...I don't know if I can beat her. And I don't care if she sees me crying. She is breaking me down, physically, sexually and mentally.

Getting lost in all those questions can only cause more self-doubt, so I shake my head and make that decision; To either quit or continue.

Another deep breath, and then I pivot around to face my long time rival...she responds by sitting up and I notice her breasts look equally hurt. That gives me some amount of consolation, although not much. She seems nervous but anxious to get at me, and a shiver runs up my spine when I see the amount of lust in how she is now looking at me. In shame I briefly look away again, lest she sees my own desires.

On our knees, while favoring our hurt legs, we shuffle closer and I try to steel myself, letting my body tell me what it is feeling? This is still a battle, but my sexuality as a woman feels on the line now and I draw a deep nervous breath at that thought.

And then we fall towards one another.

As our arms grapple with one another, our heads touch and we moan in pain when our breasts crush against one another. 'You can do this.' I tell myself, remembering how I fought free from her full-nelson. But I am over enthusiastic, so of course I recklessly drop my head and go low, and Monique slaps a front guillotine choke on me. So stupid on my part. I thought nothing of it because I didn't know what she was really trying to do, and didn't think it would really work. How naive of me. She arches her back and sinks her forearm into my neck and then twists. I gag and cough a little. "I've got you!" And she would have had me too if she had any more energy left. But I wiggle and squeeze my fingers into where hands are clasped, keeping just enough air and blood flowing so I could squirm my head free.

"Not anymore you don't!" I announce when my head pops free.

When my head came up from the guillotine I was met with a slap across the face. That tore me to pieces. I've never been slapped across the face before and it shook me to the core. Emotionally the damage is worse than the physical, although it did rock my head to the side and my whole body bowed back. I am not sure what kept me from falling over!

When my head snaps back around the look on Moniques face told me two things; She hates my guts (this I already know), and she looks horrified by what she just did. Really? After everything you have done to me, your look conveys shock...maybe remorse? She must have known I was going to slap her back, and I did. I didn't want to, but I despised her for striking me across the face. It is like the ultimate declaration of disgust between two women. If she is trying to break me, which she almost did, she failed. If she is trying to make me 'snap' and fight back, she succeeded. I believe she was going for the former.

Oddly enough, Monique doesn't even try and block me, and my slap is a lot more powerful than hers was. She probably wasn't expecting that. After I struck she let loose a shriek as spit and sweat went flying off her face, her head and upper body twisting almost 180 degrees away from me. Her backside is momentarily exposed, so I reach over with my right hand, grabbing a hunk of sweat-soaked black hair and savagely jerk her head backwards. It forces her whole upper body to bow-back as well. Monique doesn't struggle right away, she might be in a state of shock from my slap. So I seize on that advantage by wrapping my right arm around her exposed throat, trapping her in a reverse guillotine choke. Everything feels on auto-pilot and I wonder if maybe I have gotten my 'second wind' now? My left hand reaches under her arching back to grab my right wrist, this really allows me to crank her neck up-and-back, forcing her to get a good view of the ceiling. Those black bountiful breasts of hers thrust up toward the ceiling as well, in fact her whole torso looks painfully bent. It is such a magnificent site, her chest glowing with a thick sheen of sweat and those hard nipples pointing straight up. Just a brief moment of admiration on my part, but she looks so helpless and at my mercy, so exciting in a sexual way. Especially after I was being tormented by her just minutes ago!

"You stupid black bitch! How do you like me now?!" I rage down, fresh tears falling from my eyes, my emotions are getting the better of me because of that slap. Maybe her smacking me across the face got me back into the fight?

"Go to hell!" Monique's voice is rasping up at me as I keep cutting off her air supply. Now she is starting to resist! Her arms begin to flail and fight for freedom, her right hand reaches under her back to fight off my hold, so my left hand lets go of my right wrist and I grab her flailing right wrist, pulling it into a tight armlock. I then really pour on the pressure, strangling her neck with my right arm while wrenching her arm behind her back with my left. She is in a dire predicament, still on her knees and her whole body wrenched backward, I have her bent into an almost perfect 'U'. This long groan of pain comes from her strong chest as I keep bending and twisting her powerful body around like a taut bow.

"I got you bitch! I guess I own you now!"

I admit I am feeling so powerful. I squeeze my hold and my chest muscles flex pushing my breasts outward. A sense of authority and power is surging through me, not just in the physical sense, but also in a sexual way. Having control over my rival's body like this, my breasts swelling, hovering over hers in a position of domination and control! I must have held Monique in this position for what felt like a long time, she kept twisting and turning but was truly helpless. Her long, sexy, ebony body, glistening with sweat, her straining muscles fighting against me, trying to break free. But I had her, oh how I had her! Monique tries to spread her knees apart and squirm into some new position, but my reverse guillotine was in deep, and I kept making small counter-adjustments so she couldn't slip out from how I have her body bowed backwards. With her flailing left hand she periodically manages to scratch, or whack me upside the head. But nothing substantial. The only concern is my left leg, it is hurting terribly, and I began to worry it would force me to release the hold because I was putting a lot of pressure on it to stabilize my position.

"Oh God, this is killing me!" Monique finally hisses, sounding desperate.

"That's the idea!" I growl. Looking over my right shoulder I can see her face looking back up at me, even with her midnight black skin she is turning different shades from the lack of air and blood. This causes my whole body to surge with excitement! My breasts and nipples are so hard, my pussy gushing at the way my strong muscles are forcing Monique's body to bend to my power.

"I give! I submit!" The rasping words came as the spit bubbles out of the corners of her busted lips.

"Feeling my muscles now? I bet you are!" I twist her trapped right arm a little tighter, making her whimper. "How about you admit I am the better woman, and this can all be over."

"NO!" Tears streak from her eyes. What a stubborn, tough bitch.

"Fuck you then!" I squeeze more and lean back a little bit, forcing her to bow beyond the 'U' shape I already had her in. No matter her defiance, she is done; Her stomach, breasts, and shoulders begin heaving like she is having convulsions. Sputtering and sobbing up at me, I decide to relax the hold and see if she has anything to say, she does; "Please stop! Please let me go! I can't take it anymore. God help me. You're tearing my body to pieces! This is the worst thing ever!"

It wasn't a total surrender, but it was enough for me, for now. I let go and give her a firm shove on the back, her whole body falls forward performing an epic face-plant, slapping the mat with a dead thud. Yes indeed, some deviant part of me enjoys watching that big black body hit the mat like a wrecked piece of meat. Those strong, wide shoulders shaking in a subtle way as she struggles to suppress her emotions, although I can still hear her whimpering. And her right arm, it is still locked behind her back, unmoving.

I still can't shake it, even now, how amazing she is, what a perfect specimen of a woman. My admiration seems to have no limits when it comes to Monique, which makes it all the more tragic, that this is how we have to settle things?

~~~~~ No Doubt ~~~~

Hope. I am hoping that last submission put some finality on this struggle. With that in mind, I sit back on my ass and begin to massage my aching left leg. Almost slumping over from the fatigue setting in. I didn't feel like continuing; my mind is a mess, my body is a mess. 'Just stop this and go home.'

When Monique rolls over and sits up, it is a haggard, beatdown and battered mess of woman that is facing me. No doubt my own appearance is equally so, if judging how I feel is any indication. And yet that woman, my rival, her great beauty is still intact. Monique's female sensuality and raw physical power flows out from every exquisite body part. My heart pounds in ways that makes me question...everything...what is it that we bring out in each other?

Sadly though, Monique's eyes speak of only bad intentions. She is coming for me again and I couldn't believe it! I didn't want to continue. I just sat there staring at her in disbelief, my eyes pleading for her to stop. For us to stop this now! Haven't we done enough damage to one another!? How bad she must want to win. To defeat me and prove she can dominate me. Another war must be taking place, some private war inside of Monique, that hinges on what? Defeating me? But I will not be dominated by her. So does that reveal something in me as well?

No verbal conversations take place as we both try to get back to our feet, for what reason I do not know because it is a struggle. On more time, to prove to one another that we can stand, women-to-woman, and confront one another from up on our feet. I am barely upright when my legs start to tremble, my knees buckle a couple of times, but somehow I manage. Swaying back and forth while favoring my injured left leg. Feeling about ready to fall over.

Monique manages to rise as well, but stumbles almost into a nearby wall, her left hand reaches out to brace herself. She remains leaning there, taking deep breaths before testing her weight on her injured right leg. I am sure she will never forgive me for hurting her leg. Would I ever forgive her for hurting mine? Would that matter? We probably will never see one another again after this.

Our eyes meet and we are wary of one another, anger-and-strength replaced by fear-and-desperation. Neither of us have been keeping time, but most of the day seems to have slipped into the late afternoon. And no score keeping, we have inflicted horrible damage and submissions on each other, so who really has the advantage? Limping forward, we come within two feet and our sweat soaked bodies simply fall against each other. No fancy maneuvers, or tricks.

When we latch on to one another I know it is for the very last time.

I have almost no more left to give. This black amazon I am battling is an epic warrior. Me? I am justing fighting to survive and come out in one piece. I have no idea what she thinks of me, outside of the fact she wants to kick my ass.

Monique presses against me with a level of energy I didn't think she had left. And that familiar intimacy is back, breast pressing against breast, nipple against nipple. But the exhaustion is settling in, true muscle failure, not just signs of fatigue creeping into all my joints and muscles. Our heads slowly come closer, passing off to the side and it feels like we are suffering as one person, cheek to cheek. And then the inevitable happens, we topple back to the ground, each of us crying out in pain when the jarring thud ripples through our injured bodies. Deftness is not to be found as we move in slow, lumbering efforts. On our sides, me on my right, we rest while embracing, but then our chests and bodies begin that slow grind. The sweat and lotion are still there, just a little, lubricating our actions, my erect nipples tormenting me by the slow and erotic rubbing against Monique's skin. She tries to roll me over onto my back but fails. I try to roll her over but unable. So we simply we remain on our sides, stretching out the full length of our bodies. Our hips keep pressing and our legs slither against one another, still seeking some kind of advantage.

When we are like this, are we more akin to lovers? Do we even look like lovers? I wouldn't know. I have never made love to anyone. I wonder, what does Monique know about love? How my mind drifts as I lay in her arms, panting for air.

No plan, no strategy, at times we seem to be groping one another aimlessly. My hands, just begin roaming all over Monique's body for some new leverage. But the sweat hinders everything. My hands find and squeeze Monique's perfect ass, she moans against my cheek. Monique's hands are on my back, then my shoulders, then down to my ass and legs. The pressure of our touches get rougher and rougher until we are squeezing the other's body with our fingers, even clawing at one another. My nostrils flare and the smell of her body robs me of all my senses. Again, everything about her draws me in, her touch...her smell, even the taste of her sweat that slips past my lips when I press my face against her skin. And I feel her own face buried against my skin as well, her mouth open, she must know what I taste like.

We keep hugging for that ultimate intimacy, but the struggle to dominate continues.

As bad as my left leg hurts I must have more contact with this woman, she brings out the best and worst in me. I keep trying to engage Monique's legs with mine, keeping her tight against me. She must have felt that her own injured leg, her right, could engage because she hooks her knee behind my left knee. Now our injured legs match up against one another. Our other legs also coil around each other, so whose would emerge victorious? However it happens, we will be locked in each others arms to the very end. And we squeeze, sharing a long moan of pain, but there is more than just pain in our sounds. Something else, and I am so scared now.

Our bodies continue to slide against one another in every way possible; hands and arms holding onto one another, breasts rubbing, nipples aching, muscular bellies pressing tight, and legs grinding. Perhaps this is the best of all possible endings? Head-to-Toe we are latched onto one another and when that final admission of defeat happens, it will be face to face. Woman-to-woman. I nuzzle my face up close against hers, panting and moaning, pain or pleasure? Yes, it is both. Her breath is right against my cheek, moving quick and hot over my ear canal. It is more than just air, it is also the person breathing that air, and those sounds coming from her, it is affecting me.

Maybe I have always wanted something like this to happen between us? And now it has. I shut my eyes and feel the hot tears, because I know I can never admit this secret pleasure to anyone, not even her. And so I just hold onto this moment for dear life, because every second the present slips away and you can never get it back. And with those fleeting thoughts, I hug my rival even tighter, and she squeezes back. Does she feel it too? Tight as we can, as if we both are trying to achieve some epic consummation to this struggle. Naked, sweaty body pressing against body, arms still pulling, our legs tangling and intertwining.

This new form of intimacy in our final struggle unlocks some latent energy in me as we begin moving against one another with increased effort. The heat of our mounds between our legs is driving me crazy, Monique pushes her crotch against mine and I press back. What is she doing? Is she trying to distract me? One of us has to emerge the winner in our struggle for the battle of control, dominance and supremacy. So I can not lose focus now!

My legs keep interlocking with hers, trying to weave a tapestry of knees and ankles, searching for some hold that seems ever elusive. With my eyes still closed I can only feel and imagine my way around her body. Up-top and down-below. I envision our limbs as slow moving pythons, arms and legs slithering in and out, all around one another. Each of us searching for a squeeze of submission, but our limbs now lack their once powerful potential, unless one of us finds just enough of something to push the other over the edge. It feels like we might forever be locked in each other's arms and legs, that is such a powerful thought, our embrace is that intense. It may not look like much from the outside, but to me it feels like a titanic struggle for dominance. Straining in slow-motion, there is only the ripple of muscle and the panting of breath to give evidence to the efforts being put forth. Our arms stretch-out above our heads and I grab her right wrist with my right hand, I feel some potential there. I then weave my left hand around to grab my own right wrist. Not exactly sure what I will find waiting for me, if anything, but it was close enough to an armlock/kimura, so I continue. I am still feeling-for-it and not sure if I have achieved anything at all.

Monique stops breathing for a moment, then gasps lungfuls of air, and with one final lurch this long bodied girl starts fighting back. Maybe she knows I am onto something? Perhaps I am. We writhe together with greater intensity, our slippery bodies feel melded together. Monique's whole body stretches, quivering, her warm pulsating flesh against mine as we strive for bodily supremacy. My left leg wraps around her legs, behind her knees, and I manage to trap both her legs between mine. My right knee feels my left foot and then hooks my left ankle, I draw my legs up tight, my rival moans wildly. Now I have something akin to a figure-four leg lock on her legs, as well as her right arm trapped. Now I really bare-down, stretching her body with mine!

Monique gasps are coming continuously, so sensual in many ways, as I force her body to bend. Our sinews rippling under a sheen of sweat that covers both of us. And then she starts doing something with her body that is different, challenging mine, undulating her chest, her hips crush against mine and now I am the one moaning, feeling very uncomfortable. As long as I have her trapped, she also has me trapped, and she begins tormenting me with parts of her body. Oh God, have I just doomed myself in some way? What is she trying to do to me? Am I the one that has fallen into her trap?