Inori's womanhood was damp. Sophie's was dry. Inori's dark hair was in a top knot. Sophie's blonde curls were down and behind her shoulders. Inori's nipples poked through her white shirt. Sophie's nipples were soft, though still visible due to the thin fabric.
Everything about the two girls was opposite. Inori was a technical fighter. Form and strategy. Understanding catfighting less as a sport, and more of a chess match.
Sophie was...
Inori looked Sophie up and down a final time. Not to form a game plan, but to admire her opponent in the final few seconds.
Her blue eyes were wild. She leaned on the ropes as if she were agitated the fight had not started yet, and though the elixir had to be at full effect by now, she showed little sign of arousal.
In fact, her body showed no sign at all. Her only tell was the few times she ogled Inori's breasts. Admittedly, they were worth ogling.
Inori assumed that is how Sophie coped with lust's itch. By venting it into aggression. This made her strong.
But reckless.
Inori was self-aware enough to realize her personal coping.
Thought.
Outside of fighting, she loved puzzles and reading. Inside a match, analyzing her opponent down to the fiber took her mind off wanting to fuck... No.
Needing to fuck.
The two girls were opposite, Inori believed. One was tactile. Frugal with movement. A master of strategy. The other was a brawler, charging in and taking risks.
The bell rang and the two girls stepped from their corners. Each, in a thin white tshirt and bikini bottoms, agreed on a ring match.
Canvas, turnbuckles, and rope. Needless to say, ring matches allowed for more creativity.
Sophie lunged first. Inori expected it and stepped back, catching Sophie in the tail end of momentum. Both girls were similar strength, but Sophie was wilder.
Inori needed to force this as a disadvantage.
They locked hands and began pushing. Neither gave ground. Inori's nipples stiffened further from her shirt's fabric. Her bikini bottom also began to ride up her ass.
Still, it was a stalemate. Heavy breathing. Grunting. Attempts to jerk the other girl. It was a stalemate as neither girl was stronger than the other.
This would be a battle of wit vs risk, and of which girl wanted it more.
Inori took a step back. Sophie smiled and took the ground. Gradually, Inori took another, and another, step.
Sophie gladly pushed forward. Inori was close to the ropes.
Nowhere else to go.
Sophie knew Inori was strong, but deep down, not strong enough. Sophie had a reputation for being reckless, and that reputation was correct.
Too many matches, she was pinned because she was careless. And too many matches, she stood back up because that was her secret weapon.
Standing back up. Endurance. And an inhuman ability to numb lust. She reeled orgasms back and took victory from inevitable defeat. She had done it many times, and for the life of her, did not know how.
Inori's tan ass pushed into the middle rope. That was far enough. Sophie saw how close they were to the edge. In a ring match, this was dangerous. Inori flirted with danger as her back got pressed against the top rope.
In a few seconds, she would be dangling over the ropes with nowhere to go, and Sophie could have her way.
Sophie leaned in, lips first, to begin kissing Inori's neck. The asian's skin was smooth and unmarked. Sophie anticipated how soft it would feel, and how she would leave a trail up and down her chest.
Sophie was falling to the ground.
A stiff blow to her chest knocked the air out of her as she realized Inori hip tossed her. Now Sophie hung on the middle rope, rasping for breath, but that was not all. Inori grabbed her waist and in a swift motion, threw her into a pin.
Sophie's back was on the ground. Her senses gradually understood what was happening. Her body was folding until her ankles, then knees, were by her ears and...
She saw everything.
That naughty bitch.
Inori was finishing a reverse roll up. Sophie was completely exposed, and more importantly, completely immobile. She kicked and bucked but it was no use.
Inori sat on Sophie's ankles, the Asian girl's womanhood right above the blonde brawler's head, and admired.
Sophie's ass and vagina were not merely vulnerable. They were trapped, ripe for fingering and licking and scratching and...
Inori felt a jolt from the thought as she balanced her weight forward, further locking Sophie's ankles.
Sophie squirmed to no avail. A reverse roll up was a move that did not finish fights. It finished girls. Sophie could only watch, her own tits squished into her chin, as Inori's fingers inched closer.
They took an eternity, it seemed. The closer they got, the slower her tan fingers went, and the more Sophie blushed.
Radiance.
Inori gently rubbed Sophie's womanhood, her exposed gift, up and down. It was through the bottoms, but that mattered little.
Even a marathoner like Sophie had limits, and the reverse roll up ensured those limits would be found.
Sophie squirmed again. Inori budged, but rebalanced and Sophie was locked in tighter. Her ass and thighs were tense. The pin stretched her tendons until they burned.
Radiance.
Inori felt Sophie's slit through the fabric and ran two fingernails up and down them.
Fuck.
It was a chill mist running up and down her body, agonizing pleasure brushing against her most secret and forbidden nerves. The sensation sent goosebumps and a whimper Sophie could not contain.
Inori was pleased. She knew Sophie was a juggernaut. Head to head, no one could beat her. Her womanhood was a brick wall, but even a brick wall erodes from the rain.
In this pin, Inori was the rain and she could take her time. Extracting Sophie's nectar. Shattering her from dominatrix to shivering girl.
Inori rubbed imperceptibly harder. Sophie tensed. She had stopped moaning, but in time, that restraint would fade. Sophie's forbidden treasure was Inori's. The blonde brawler had been too confident and this was the price.
Unconditional surrender.
