This one is for Ckskevin, one of my earliest followers. PS: And yes, I'm writting other ones
CHAPTER 10:
WITHOUT TRUCE, WITHOUT REST
Wednesday, January 24
Natasha Reilly’s Apartment
Dove Street, 15:07
The hot steam fogged the bathroom, misting mirrors and tiles. The soft and slow music hung in the air, forging a relaxed atmosphere in which, however, Natasha couldn’t dive. Lying in the bathtub, with only her head out of hot water, the blonde tried to ease her pain... without success.
After all, her pain was barely physical. Certainly, she still felt the muscular exhaustion and some stabbing pain of discomfort in tits and scalp; nothing compared to the pain she had felt after the other fights with Melissa, much more violent and dangerous than the last meeting. Last night neither she nor the brunette had thrown a single punch, a single kick. The hairpulling weren’t wild, but controlling, while the struggle between their bodies had been reduced to a single area: their four firm boobs.
‘No, that’s not what hurts me,’ Natasha thought, closing the eyes to try to feel the music. The water that covered her naked figure couldn’t relax her: it was burning, but her body seemed to be able to absorb the heat to feed her own fire. Restless, the beauty girl moved slightly to better accommodate in the bathtub.
“I hate you with all my heart, you brunette slut,” she gasped, unable to contain that pain that tortured her. Her pain, her real pain, was emotional, and Natasha couldn’t find a way to subdue it, or at least reduce it. The defeat against her nemesis wouldn’t stop repeating in her head, as a cruel echo of the past coming back again and again to torture her.
Moving one hand, the dancer grabbed the beer bottle she had left on the edge of the bathtub. She took a long drink, but alcohol didn’t help her either. On the verge of tears, the girl left again the drink on her site... right next to her mobile.
‘What if...?’ she wondered, looking at the phone screen as if it was a lifeline in the middle of a shipwreck. There —right at her fingertips— was the link between her and her enemy, between her bitterness and the potential solution... ‘Or the gate to hell,’ she mused negatively, looking forward to her own body. Underwater, her vagina pounded softly, as if it knew that her mistress was thinking about her.
“Why did you fail me?” she inquired with bitterness in her female voice. Then the blonde grabbed her tits rather abruptly; some water fell out of the tub. “Why did you fail US?”
Natasha knew her chest was up to the task last night, battling on equal terms with Melissa’s hard bust. At the end of the duel, her tits had begun get soft, that’s true, but brunette’s breasts had also lost strength. None could claim victory in the passionate struggle of firmness and burning; though the draw was frustrating for the competitive blonde, at least it doesn’t put her at a disadvantage against Melissa.
But her pussy was a very different issue: when push came to shove, it had broken out in a devastating orgasm that had drained the blonde’s body of energy and will. All this after promising her rival she would win the hot duel…
“You... you...” she tried to complain, but her voice broke. Unable to follow in the bathtub, Natasha got up, and the tears that flowed from her eyes were mixed with water that ran down her skin.
Then she stopped in front of the larger mirror in bathroom. With her hand, the go-go dancer wiped the mist to see a full image of her body. Her boobs stood out red, partly because of the heat of the water, in part by the abuse of the previous night; at that moment, just seconds after coming out of the tub, the eternal combustion filled already her breasts with sweat. ‘How long?’ she mused, watching the transpiration spread through belly and thighs.
Natasha ran her hand over again through the mirror, looking to see beyond. Her curves were reflected more clearly, and she could see the perfect shapes of her hips and waist, the toning of her flat belly, the femininity of her legs; her tits, even punished, were still two solid and erect spheres, with significant, thick nipples.
Looking down, the blonde met again with her sex. Gently spreading the legs, she glimpsed her generous mound, her golden and neatly trimmed hair, her big and wet lips... and her clitoris, her stunning clitoris. Since the humiliating surrender to Melissa’s body —just a few hours before—, the sensitive female spear had remained erect, tense, hard; the young girl was unable to do anything to calm it. When her fingers touched the clitoris, explosive waves seriously threatened her body with an orgasm… After last night, Natasha didn’t want feel anything like it again. Now all climaxes that she enjoy —or, rather, suffer— would be associated with the antagonistic saleswoman; of course, the dancer didn’t intend to accept it.
“But I’m not leaving the city,” she cried at her reflection, remembering the final threat of Melissa, and her reflection replied hardening the features. Suddenly, every arrogant word, every cocky gesture, every defiant look from the brunette appeared in her head; instinctively, she clenched in anger the fists. The adrenaline began to fill her body with spirit and rage, anaesthetizing the emotional pain from the orgasmic defeat.
“It was a matter of seconds,” she said herself, shivering in a contained fit. “She was also on the edge, I know it,” Natasha evoked Melissa’s gasps, grunts, cries; how her rival trembled against her body, as her broken by passion. “I had her. She was mine... she was almost mine.”
Now, muscle fatigue, physical torment or mental humiliation didn’t matter: just imagine the smug smiling brunette after her victory was enough to make Natasha regained her lost courage.
She looked at her phone, and thought about the possibilities. But she soon discarded them all, choosing the only one that could satisfy her...
***
Madame Lingerie
New Hall Lane, 16:33
In her store, Melissa was living in a dream: the air was breathable; the light came more radiant from the street. The customers smiled more, buy more. The world certainly was a happier place.
“Today you look very happy,” one of her most faithful clients said. “The last few weeks you were acting strangely, honey, but today you are our smiley Melissa again.”
“Thanks, Joanna,” she replied, smiling. ‘But no, I’m not the same girl,’ she added inside her head. Her body was so full of self-fulfillment, of self-improvement, that she felt ascend to Heaven. ‘A different Heaven. Heaven that the religions sell us is false,’ she mused. ‘Heaven isn’t earned being a wimp who prays and forgives, but putting into place the snooty bitches who think they are above others.’
She cared little for that still throbbing pain on her tits. Melissa knew they would remain sensitive for days, feeling them uncomfortable under any clothes; they would remain soft for a week —or more—, lack of the firmness that she had always been so proud. However, the compensation was delicious: knowing that her girls had fought a duel with the nemesis’ presumptuous boobs until —after burn and soften them— push her owner to cum in humiliation... was priceless.
“Excuse me, can you help me?”
The voice of a client woke her. Shaking the head, she left her succulent dream to return to the present. ‘How long has it been?’ she wondered, seeing that Joanna was no longer at Madame.
“Sorry, I was distracted. How can I help y…?”
The doorbell rang at that moment, but it wasn’t what interrupted to the saleswoman. Air suddenly became denser, while the temperature rose. A disturbance ran through the store, from the entrance to her...
Natasha came intro Madame, staring at the brunette.
“Hello?” the client insisted, clearly annoyed. In front of her, Melissa couldn’t take hers eyes off the blonde; throwing glances, her rival moved between full of lingerie shelves.
“Yeah, sorry.” Swallowing, Melissa helped the woman to choose what bra to take, though she was more attentive to the newcomer than her. ‘What the fuck is she doing here?’
For several minutes —minutes stretched as if the passage of time had slowed in the store— the girl attended her customers between quick glances to the dancer. The blonde returned each of them, as haughty as ever. ‘Have this slut forgotten what happened last night?’ She became angry, growling under her breath more than once. The presence of Natasha was infuriating her on a low flame, upsetting her to lose track of placidity she had felt since the victory of hours earlier.
On the other end of the unhealthy connection between the women, the blonde began to feel impatient. Her idea of appearing in Madame without warning had worked, watching the rival’s reaction, but now she felt stuck in that place: she couldn’t attack Melissa publicly because she knew they would be separated instantly, causing an embarrassing scandal, and she also couldn’t get her out there.
Even worse: the store doesn’t close in three hours, three endless hours. ‘I cannot stand so long in this way,’ Natasha knew, being engaged yet again with Melissa’s eyes. The supreme hatred of the couple hit through the pupils, angering the rivalry even more... if that was possible.
‘You just wait until we get back to put together our tits, cheap whore,’ the blonde growled in her head, trying to send the silent message to the brunette. Under her chin, her breasts quivered, tense by the eternal delay. ‘Easy, girls, I’ll find a way...’
The time continued slowly crawling forward, sometimes almost stopping. Distractedly looking panties, stockings and bras, Natasha cursed every woman and every man that, coming into the store, delayed her greatest desire. The sound of the doorbell began to seem detestable, painfully agonizing. Soon she began to hyperventilate.
“Fuck,” the blonde whispered, running her hand over her full of sweat forehead. Trying to control herself, she glanced at Melissa, finding some comfort in the clearly irregular breathing of the lingerie saleswoman. ‘She’s as nervous and impatient as me... Perfect’.
Several paces away, Melissa swallowed hard. ‘Should I close the store?’ she thought, unable to bear the walks of her opponent through her store. The situation reminded her of their early antagonism, when Natasha came to Madame to buy her sexiest lingerie for her performances in Darkness. ‘How long has it been since the first day?’ she mused, feeling that time extremely distant and innocent. ‘We were like two stupid and clumsy girls, unable to understand what was happening. But look at us now…’
Several adrenaline rushes tightened her chest as she kept an eye over the blonde, analyzing her just as she had done months ago in this same place, but now seeing beyond: her tits, displayed by a blue and generous low cut blouse, weren’t only sexy curves, but also effective weapons; her toned and feminine legs, shown by her short black skirt, had hidden a physical power that Melissa now understood; her thin arms, with firm hands with long fingers, were more dangerous than she had ever imagined.
‘She’s a walking weapon,’ she thought. ‘But I’m a weapon too, although then I didn’t know it.’ Her eyes fell on Natasha’s body, making her to see how many things she didn’t know about the blonde yet. ‘And her ass? Can she also use it in a fight? Could we...?’
Her line of thought was cut at that moment. For the first time since the go-go dancer had arrived, she was facing her defiantly.
“You bitch, close the store before people keeps screwing us.”
Surprised by the direct contempt, Melissa looked around... to meet the empty store. Within her reveries, she hadn’t realized that just seconds before the last customer had left Madame.
“Close the fucking store... or are you afraid of what happens when we’re alone?” Natasha insisted, visibly upset.
“You’re the one who should be afraid, slut,” Melissa finally reacted, grabbing the keys to go toward the door with hurried steps. Without delay, she activated the metal shutters: while they insulated Madame from the outside world, the brunette locked the door, running her small curtain to hide them.
Even with lighted lamps, the place seemed to darken, as if what was there about to happen was destined to secrecy, to most absolute female privacy. Melissa and Natasha discovered that they wished some light bulb to flicker, evoking memories of the last night’s fiery duel: one to commemorate a hard triumph, the other to avenge a humiliating defeat.
To be continued...
Originally Posted by ckskevin
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