The European Tour

Lyssa Grayson's boyfriend, Henry, was a truly fascinating man. Eccentric, some might say, especially in his sexual tastes. She supposed that may have been what attracted her to him, after years of marriage to an utterly boring man, whose tastes in the bedroom were surpassed in staleness only by his job as an accountant, she had been looking for something new and exciting, and Henry had brought it to her. Sometimes, he'd brought things she hadn't expected, things that far surpassed the normal sexual contact she was used to. Things that were at times a little uncomfortable, at least at the start, but that she grew to love - Or perhaps she had grown to love him. Sometimes it was hard to tell the difference, really, she didn't know if she would have found the same thrill in wrestling with another woman if she didn't know how much Henry enjoyed it. Then again, perhaps it didn't matter. It made her feel strong, and beautiful, and powerful, so if she wouldn't have enjoyed it in another timeline... Then she was just lucky that this was the one she lived in, one where she could discover the joy and thrill of stretching out another woman's legs with her own, wrapping her mighty thighs around someone's head and crushing, or feeling the light and fading breath against her barely-covered cunny as she sat on her opponent's face, rolled her hips to force her foe into the ground, and showed off her dominance for her lover.

She got to do that one in particular quite often. He'd introduced her to this hobby on Fetlife, and watched her in matches all around California - All of which she'd won, from day one. She was good at it, no, she was GREAT at it, and she was just so thrilled that she had ended up having a chance - A life - Where she could do something like this, do it well, and do it in front of a man who seemed (her experience with her husband had taught her to be careful on absolute statements) to be head over heels in love with her. Especially when he got to see her, so to speak, at work.

That was why he had brought her to Europe. EUROPE! An executive assistant - A glorified secretary, really - travelling Europe and getting to see all the sights, hear all the sounds, the people. They were starting in Italy, they'd seen the Doge's Palace in Venice, the tower of Pisa, and of course walked through the stands of Rome's famous Colosseum, where she not-so-secretly imagined choking out rival women on the sands thousands of years ago, to a roaring crowd t

Now, though, it was time to get down to the 'business' (if you could call it that) of their grand European tour. She'd run through all the women she could find in California, and now her beloved Henry had brought her here, to a studio in Milan, where she could match herself up against a professional cam-wrestler. Her first fight against a 'professional' opponent.

She was not, though, quite as intimidated by the prospect as she had expected. Her first opponent for the trip may have made a living at this, but she wasn't necessarily the best at it. She'd never established herself as a particularly overwhelming opponent. What made Lyssa as good at what she did as she was wasn't merely her strength and athleticism, anyone could have those, it was how she approached it - Seriously, with dilligence, and no small amount of research. She'd spent hours pouring over videos, both amateur and semi-professional, to get a good understanding of what it was she needed to do. Ivy was impressive, from what she'd seen, but not the sort of terrifyingly skilled woman the term 'professional' might imply. She was certainly confident she could handle her, the same way she had handled so many women at home in California.

She and her boyfriend stepped inside the woman's studio. Little more than an open apartment, with no furniture present but a pleasantly large space open on the floor, and thick mats placed down on the hardwood. Cameras had already been set up around the sides of the room, aimed towards the large mat on the floor, promising that every possible angle of their match would be captured. At the very least, Lyssa appreciated the effort that Ivy put into making sure that she would be seen. It had made studying her opponent so much easier.

A few minutes later, the woman herself emerged from a back room, wearing a black sweatshirt and pants. Lyssa may have been right to think she would be an inferior grappler, that would remain to be seen, but she was certainly an attractive woman. At 5'5, and 141 pounds, she may have been shorter but there was plenty of mass to her foe, and most of it concentrated in the breasts and legs. That had been, she had noticed, Lyssa's specialty in combat. Her legs could be a brutal weapon when she got them around someone, cranking on pressure and pain until her foes had to submit.

Lyssa offered her hand, and the other woman took it, looking up in her eyes. She may not have had the pure skill that some of the best of the best had when it came to what she did on the mat, but she certainly had the fire and passion necessary to be great. The shorter woman met her gaze, and even though she was half a foot below Lyssa, she didn't show a hint of being smaller and weaker as a person. If anything, the look the woman gave her made Lyssa question just how well she would be able to do. She had prepared for a woman who was skilled, but not overly dominant, but the way that her future opponent met her gaze, she felt like she was looking in the eyes of a woman who simply couldn't be conquered. Perhaps all the people she had seen beat her had been just several steps above her? Lyssa would have to see when they locked up, if she could beat her, she would know her assumptions were right.

"You're the woman I'm taking on today?" Ivy asked, "Lyssa, right?"

"That's right," she answered.

"You want to strip down and get started? The cams are already running. It'll be nice to give your boyfriend a chance to enjoy what I'm going to do to you."

"Oh, yes, please," Lyssa responded, "He loves watching women eat me out after I beat them."

"I like your confidence," Ivy responded, tightening her grip on Lyssa's hand, "It'll be fun to take it out of you."

The attitude continued to get a little under Lyssa's skin, but she was fairly certain she could handle this, especially if it was for Henry, who would be watching from just offscreen. Whatever else happened, she didn't' want the first time her boyfriend saw her lose to be in front of a massive audience.

So she simply wouldn't let it be.

She stripped down, revealing her own long, lovely legs. Her opponent did too. She'd realized beforehand that the woman had lovely breasts and legs, she'd watched the videos after all, that sort of thing wasn't easy to miss. What she hadn't quite realized was just HOW big they were. She was a good six inches taller than Ivy and hardly walking around on pencils, but Ivy's mighty thighs dwarfed hers. She was going to have to work hard to try to spread those legs out like she liked to.

But she would do it. She stepped onto the mat, her eyes narrowed as she tried to focus. All the lead-in was well and good, of course, but now it was time to take things seriously. Ivy looked like she approved when she saw that Lyssa was getting ready to take things seriously as well.

"Reset on pins and submissions, go until one of us completely submits. Winner gets to do to the loser what she likes for a good eight minutes. Like we agreed before, right?" Ivy asked.

"Absolutely. Though I'll give you a chance right now to ask for less time being beaten on when I win," Lyssa responded, and followed it up with a wink to Henry. She knew her lover appreciated her confidence. Looking away almost gave her opponent time to simply jump her and take an early advantage. Unfortunately for Ivy, the operative word there was 'Almost,' as Lyssa turned back just in time to raise her hands and lock up with the other woman, testing the strength of their bodies against each-other.

She braced her feet, and leaned forward, trying to use the advantage she had in size and weight to overpower the other woman. Her muscles tensed, from foot to core, as she worked to push her back. It should have worked, she was used to just simply being larger and stronger than most women, but this time, she was finding herself up against a somewhat literal block. Perhaps her first opponent was a bigger challenge than expected after all. A normal woman would try to just push back against her, but her opponent clearly knew what she was doing, and she used her large and mighty legs to the maximum effect, bracing them and using that musclepower to push back on Lyssa.

"Heh, finding you can't handle me as easy as ya thought, huh big g-OOF!"

Her opponent was right this wasn't as easy as she thought, but taking the time to boast had been a mistake. While she was talking and still pushing, Lyssa went from trying to overpower her to jumping in the air and leaning back. Now the mighty force that had recently been applied to trying to outmuscle Lyssa was entirely working against her foe, and the woman began to tumble down on top of the taller woman, their dark flesh pressing close, body to body, as Lyssa hit the mat and Ivy landed on top of her, face between her breasts. Lissa didn't have time to appreciate the aesthetic value her lover was no doubt gaining, though, she had to continue her attack and strike while the metaphorical iron was hot.

With Ivy still seemingly unsure of what was happening, she was able to brace her own long legs on the ground, and slide herself back on the mats, her hands grasping into Ivy's hair to push her down at the same time, making sure Ivy would be in no position to stop herself from being completely brought down until her head was properly placed in the valley between Lyssa's legs. She felt a slight feeling of pride at so easily taking her opponent on and placing her in such a helpless position, perhaps it would turn out that the woman's intensity was all talk after all.

Of course, she was going to have time to think about that later. For now, she had a round to win. She quickly wrapped her thighs tight around Ivy's head, in a proper headscissor position, before bucking her hips up and twisting to roll Ivy onto her back. She didn't cinch her thighs tight around her foe, not needing to exert that much that early, and hoped she could count on her opponent being smaller and having a far worse position to ensure she was pinned down. Already the familiar feeling of victory was returning to Lyssa. She had taken her opponent down, and now, she was able to drop her weight (a solid though not shocking 171 pounds) on the other woman to keep her pinned down beneath her, taking away her air.

There were few positions more dominant, or more enjoyable to execute on a helpless foe, than a solidly positioned facesit. Crushing down on another woman, making her feel the power of your legs, your body, feeling her breath desperate against your body as she tried to catch a good breath but managed to find only panties and pussyflesh. To make the whole position that much harder for her rival, she tensed her thighs, well trained and perfected for finding victory in a tight headscissor hold, and crushed down on the other woman's head. She took a deep, satisfied breath, enjoying the feeling of having her foe helpless between her legs, before she started to count to five for the pin, slowly so she wouldn't have to give up the wonderful sensation of grinding her foe into the mats too soon.

"One," she started, and took a deep breath, showboating a little for the audience the same way Ivy had, raising her hands to show off her gorgeous light brown body while pushing her weight down on the lovely afro-caribbean woman beneath her.

"Two," she continued, a smile on her lips as she looked at the woman beneath her legs, saw the curls of bright red hair as her rival struggled, "Yeah, you're not getting out of there before five, are you?" She taunted her foe.

"Th-" She started to call out the final number, but before she could finish, she felt the other woman quickly slapping her thigh, tapping out to the dominant position.

"Oh?" She looked down, raising her hips a little bit, "Having trouble breathing there, honey?" She teased as she pulled back, leaving the darker-skinned woman on the ground. She raised her hand to rub it along her own short, blond-highlighted hair, felt smoothness of her skin on the shaved sides.

"I'm not going to waste my time letting you show off," her opponent warned her, her heavy carribean accent curling her words as lusciously as her hair, "Not when I'm about to take you down like you were trying to do to me."

"Like I was succeeding at doing to you," she corrected the other woman, "And trust me, you're not going to be doing anything of the sort. I would have hoped a professional would have been a bit better than the amateurs I was stomping on back home."

"I think that you'll find that I am," Ivy responded, "You fought them with one fall matches. You fight me to try to make me submit entirely. All you get out of pinning me down like that is a bit of pride for dominating me for a few seconds, NOT a victory," she reminded Lyssa.

And as much as it sounded like the futile objections of a beaten opponent looking to excuse her defeat in that round, Lyssa knew that her opponent for the night was correct. Technically speaking, all she'd done was get a point in a contest intended to end with total submission. On the other hand, now she knew that she could, her opponent, as showy and skilled as she was, wasn't unbeatable. She was a professional, but that didn't make her some sort of wrestling goddess, it simply made her a woman with enough showmanship and intelligence to make a living doing this. Lyssa stepped forward, offered her hands, and they locked up again, light and dark skin pressed together, a perfect body-to-body match of powerful womanhood.

Lyssa felt the muscles of her arms and legs starting to bulge out as she pressed against her, trying to press her smaller opponent backwards. This time, she felt more confident, more eager even, ready to overpower and overwhelm her opponent, use her superior size and strength in the same inimitable fashion she always did to dominate the other woman. She'd shown herself plenty capable of winning a round, now she only had to do it a few more times and she'd win the match as well, and be able to show off her victory for her loving Henry.

Unfortunately, she was getting too lost in the thought of what she was going to do (and hopefully soon) to put enough of her mental and physical power into what she was doing right now. She got distracted by her thoughts of post-match dominance, and her attention was drawn away from the match at hand. That turned out to be a painful mistake, as she felt the other woman's foot kick out, and press against her shin. It wasn't a brutal blow, just a little shove and pressure, but it was enough to buckle her knees, especially with how much she was relying on her legs to help her push her rival back. She fell to one knee, and as she did, her opponent released the grip on her hands and raised her own up to grab Lyssa's head, pulling it in under her arm. Now, her cheek was pressed to Ivy's lovely breast, and she was being grabbed in a tight headlock, feeling the pressure against her flesh.

"Are you having fun now, Lyssa?" The other woman asked, her accent turning the soft i into an elongated and heavier E that somehow made the mockery sting that much more. She tried to reach up and grab onto her rival's arms, but while Ivy didn't have the same power in her body that Lyssa did, right now she had the far superior position. Using that hold on the side of Lyssa's head, she was able to not only compress the chin and the cheek, but hold her against that large and lovely breast, meaning that Lyssa could feel herself starting to struggle for air even faster as the other woman came close to a breast smother on her... A move she knew that Ivy specialized in.

Ivy wasn't giving her time to try to think about another option for combat or escape, though. Taking the same trick Lyssa had found success with earlier, she simply pitched back, dropping hard on her back, and wrapped her mighty thighs around the lighter-skinned woman's body. The powerful redhead pulled tight, squeezing Lyssa into the same bodyscissors she had seen end so many matches in the research she'd done leading up to their fight. She wasn't going to let herself get taken down the same way. Or, well, at least she would try not to... But the way those mighty thighs locked in, it wasn't going to be easy to avoid a quick and helpless submission to such a powerful bodyscissors.

Lyssa tried to suck in as much breath as she could, fill her lungs while she had a chance, because she knew that a hold like this could be an effective way of keeping your opponent from gasping out another breath. Indeed, already she was struggling to let her lungs expand, her body shaking as the breath came slowly. The pain was growing as well, and she looked helplessly up in Henry's eyes. He wouldn't show his concern, but she could sense it, in the tightness of his jaw and the way he clenched his fists. He was cheering for her to get out, to find a way to escape the mighty hold, even if he did so silently.

She tried to gather enough strength to break out, but time was ticking by, and her body was aching. Every second she spent between Ivy's thighs was a second more of her body being worn down by their power. She bit her lip in her effort to get ready, but it was fast becoming too much, too overwhelming, her body was shaking. She needed to find a way out of there...

...Or perhaps she didn't. As Ivy had pointed out, conceding a point was a pity, but it didn't end the match. She wasn't used to accepting that she couldn't handle something... But then again, sometimes she had to. Her breath was fading, both from the crush and the breasts, and spending any more time trying to fight it would probably just make it harder for her to mount a comeback. With no other choice, Lyssa raised her hand, and tapped out on Ivy's hip.

She hadn't wanted to end it that quick, of course, it was the first time she'd ever been made to tap in a match, even if it hadn't ended the contest. She slowly returned to her feet, shaking her head, and Ivy looked cocky as she stood over her, "Alright, then," Ivy told her, "Feeling like you know your place now, hmm?"

She shook her head, "Feeling like I know my place is still above you," she grinned.

"Then you still have a lesson to learn," Ivy responded, offering her hands to lock up again.

Lyssa took them, starting to push, and instantly Lyssa got grabbed into the other woman's breasts, her face buried between them. Ivy had a massive pair, her ability to smother was nothing to be laughed at. It was easy to see why she would want to wrestle nude, even if she hadn't been in the erotic wrestling business. She had a lovely set, and it would have to be extremely uncomfortable to try to constrain them. In fact, it was clear the only thing Ivy liked to have pressed against them was another woman's face, but that, she clearly loved to feel. Lyssa tried to grab her opponent's shoulders, pull away, but she got little more than an inch off before she was dragged back in. Ivy's boobs were all she could see, smell, taste. They blocked every hint of oxygen. She'd just lost a round, she was NOT going to let this woman knock or tap her out in front of her husband twice in a row, ESPECIALLY with her tits!

But what could she do to stop it? She couldn't pull away. She was trying, she wanted to, but the other woman's hands held her too close. She clearly had experience keeping someone else locked in. She tried to pull in breath, but got only titflesh. She could feel her face turning purple again, she had barely had time to get her breath back in her body before passing out. She certainly couldn't keep her head away for long.