No Holds Barred in London

'For fuck's sake!' she shrieked as she inspected her reflection. Victoria was right: the hickey on her tit was the smallest. The ones on her shoulders and neck were much bigger. And they weren't faint little red suction marks; they were serious purple blemishes that would turn into big bruises. A couple of them even included teeth imprints.

'You can conceal them easily enough.' Victoria was standing in the doorway, watching Trish fume. 'I do it all the time.'

'Makeup's no use. It'll rub off under the lights.'

'Yeah, but everybody will think you're getting bruised there and then, in the line of duty. It'll go down well.'

'I don't want it to go down well,' Trish snapped. 'I don't want to be bruised at all. What were you doing, anyway? Marking me as conquered territory?' Her temper was rapidly spiralling and she didn't care.

'You didn't seem to mind when I was giving you them,' Victoria said calmly.

'I didn't know you were fucking giving me them! How did you do it, by stealth?'

'I did it by biting and sucking. You were probably concentrating on something else.'

Trish snatched up her clothes. 'Get out of my way. I'm leaving.'

'Please don't go.' Victoria was using her sing-song voice again. 'I want you to stay.'

'Get out of my way!'

The taller woman had advanced into the bedroom but was still blocking the route to the door. 'Please don't go,' she repeated.

Cursing again, Trish threw down her belongings and grabbed Victoria, surprised how easily she was lifted into the air. She couldn't be resisting at all.

I'll slam her down, she thought. I'll slam her as hard as I can.

Sanity prevailed at the last second. They weren't on forgiving ringside surfaces; they were in a hotel room. The deep pile of the carpet wasn't going to cushion a powerbomb. Rotating through ninety degrees, Trish slammed Victoria onto the bed instead, crashing her own body on top as an added extra.

Then she smelt her.

The shower room had been well-stocked with shampoos, body gels and washes. Victoria had done all the choosing and Trish hadn't taken much notice. Afterwards she'd been vaguely aware that they both smelled of flowers and oranges, full stop. Now, however . . .

Oh my God, she must be gushing!

Unable to resist, Trish parted Victoria's robe and pressed her face into a very wet pussy. Nectar; she tasted like nectar. Taking advantage of their top and tail position, Trish used her tongue on Victoria's clit and simultaneously dipped her nose into the world's best-lubricated honeypot.

Victoria groaned encouragement. Suitably encouraged, Trish inhaled more nectar and kept on licking. And then, three colossal orgasms later, she got off the bed.

'Please don't go,' Victoria said. 'I've wanted this forever.'

Trish, standing over her heap of clothes, hesitated. The temptation to walk out was massive. It was also almost poetically balanced. Victoria wanted it and she hadn't. Leaving her fulfilled one way but not the other . . . well, it had a certain feel to it.

'Please,' Victoria said again.

'What is it you want from me, exactly?'

'I want you to like me. I want you to like me all night.'

'The way you "liked" me earlier?'

'Any way you want.' Victoria's eyes were flashing again. 'You can make love to me; fuck me . . . or anything else you can think of. The choice is all yours.'

'Can I tie you to the bed?'

'Yes, please.'

Trish shrugged, finding it much easier unbound than bound. Leaving Victoria unfulfilled was still very tempting, but some offers were simply too good to refuse.

'Oh, okay then, 'she said, 'if you insist. But expect to get bitten . . .'