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Winner Takes All

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Rinkah grunted as she curled the pair of oversized dumbbells, then raised them above her head. Muscles bulging like cords of wood, skin gleaming with a sheen of sweat, she somehow still found the energy to talk. “She’s at it again.”

Effie replied with a mild grunt of her own. Though her “equipment” was an outright boulder nearly twice her width and almost as tall, she hardly appeared to strain as she lifted it straight above her head, holding it there, broad shoulders tense, as she observed the source of Rinkah’s ire.

Charlotte was flirting again.

“Nobody likes a snoop, Rinkah.”

“I’m hardly a snoop if she’s doing it right out in the open.” Rinkah gritted her teeth, the dense muscles of her back surging as she mimicked Effie’s motions.

Effie, now there was a woman worthy of respect—strong beyond belief, and unashamed of her power and prowess. Nothing at all like that conceited parasite, Charlotte.

Today’s target was Xander, an aspirational goal if ever there were one, but it hardly mattered. Night or day, summer or fall, it hardly seemed to matter with this woman. Rinkah had seen her flirt with just about every man in the camp. From the crown prince of Nohr to the handsome (if unremarkably so) cavalier Silas, it was always the same act: useless, feeble—coquettish, even. As the weeks passed, Rinkah had observed Charlotte flit from available bachelor to available bachelor like a hummingbird terrified of starvation, desperate for the sweet nectar of their notice.

With a smooth motion, Effie inhaled, letting her elbows bend until the rock nearly touched the tip of her nose. “So it bothers you, but not enough that you’ll ignore it? It’s not as if she’s flirting with you.”

Rinkah nearly guffawed at the thought. “That’d be the day; a servile leech like her wouldn’t last five minutes with the Fire Tribe’s weakest warrior on her worst day, let alone me.”

In response, Effie gave only a knowing ‘mm-hmm.’ For some reason, this boiled a peculiar consternation through Rinkah’s stomach.

It was a brief reflection. Picturing Charlotte settling down with any of the Fire Tribe, an amused smile came to Rinkah’s face. She knew Charlotte’s type—simpering, mincing about. Oh, she was a terror on the battlefield to be sure, but did she have to cavort around the camp, trailing after every man in eyeshot, and always offering those boxed lunches, as if anyone would deign to stomach even a single bite of her abysmal cooking? It was pathetic! And, since Charlotte appeared to feel no shame, it seemed it fell to Rinkah to suffer Charlotte’s embarrassment for her.

The only saving grace was the meager entertainment she got from watching Charlotte’s desperate struggle to secure the attention—much less the affection—of any man with a day’s-worth of stubble and a pulse. She was earnestly looking forward to when Charlotte ran out of flesh-and-blood males to harass and would have to resort to trying her luck on particularly handsome clods of dirt—provided said clods came from wealthy families, naturally.

As Charlotte and Xander meandered nearer to the training ground, Prince Xander astride his horse, and Charlotte all-but prancing around the hooves like some small, yapping dog, the creases of worried plastered across Xander’s face became more and more evident—he looked like an animal caught in a snare, his hope of escape growing more fleeting with each passing moment.

“If that’s all, Charlotte,” Xander said. “I’ll be off then.”

Charlotte poked her fingers together, eyes wide with coy intent, a small, sly grin spreading across her lips. “Oh, Prince Xander, you know that’s not all you need.”

As Xander blanched at her intimation, a remarkably less subtle reaction overtook Rinkah. A sharp peal of laughter blurted out of her, ringing like a brassy gong through the muggy air.

At the sound, Charlotte stiffened. The flirtatious look remained on her face, though it had become somewhat rictus in character. Politely, she tucked a stray bit of long, blonde hair back behind her ear. “A-as I was saying, Prince Xander—”

Rinkah snorted. Her arms began to shiver with the effort of holding the dumbbells over her head.

“Careful now,” murmured Effie, conscientiously ignoring the scene playing out before her as she committed herself to her workout.

“I’m sorry Charlotte, I really must be going.” Xander glanced furtively from side to side, pausing for a brief swallow. “I’m rather busy these days. If you need anything further, perhaps see if you can find my brother, Leo?”

A bleating sound like a wounded sheep spilled from Rinkah. Charlotte, fed up with the cackling of the peanut gallery, tore her attention away from Xander to shoot a pointed look.

Prince Xander, true to his noble heritage—or perhaps sensing his window for escape—made no outward acknowledgment of this building strife. “Good day, Charlotte,” he said, eying the path.

“O-okey-dokey, we’ll catch up later then, Xandy; tootle-loo!” Charlotte chirped, waggling her fingers and standing on her toes in a prissy pose as Xander encouraged his horse to motion with a bit more force than he usually applied.

Rinkah could take it no longer. Laughter broke from her in an uproarious wave, her cackling echoing off seemingly every corner of the camp. “Xandy?!” she bellowed, clumsily wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.

Charlotte hardly waited until Xander was out of eyeshot before storming over to the training grounds, a miniature sandstorm flaring behind her as her boots kicked up a billowing swirl of dust in her furious wake. She cleaved a path straight to Rinkah, not even acknowledging Effie’s presence, and jabbed her finger against Rinkah’s sternum. “Can I help you with something, ogre??”

Rinkah snorted away the final few dregs of her laughter, smearing the backs of her hands against her teary eyes. “Oni.”

Charlotte’s cheeks blew up like a puffer fish, her finger sallied forth for a second jab . “Excuse me??”

“The proper term—” Nonchalant as could be, Rinkah raised a meaty hand and wrapped it around Charlotte’s confrontational finger, bending it away from her. “—is Oni.”

Charlotte, quite despite herself, uttered a warlike growl of barely bridled frustration. “Oh, I know exactly what you are!”

Effie smiled as casually as she could, setting down her boulder and clapping the dust from her palms. “Well ladies, that’s my cue. I’m off to lunch.” She made her retreat as hastily as she was able—though in her case, it was more of a “trundling” retreat—calling out over her shoulder. “Try not to hurt each other!” And then, knowing their feud was well past the point of no return, she mumbled, “…too badly, anyway…”

Rinkah, done with the conversation, squatted to retrieve her weights and continue her workout, only to find herself Charlotte’s pointed finger encroaching upon her, this time with a stab to her forehead. When she glanced upward, she found Charlotte’s pale face piqued and red, and could almost imagine the steam pouring out of the woman’s ears.

“Do you have a problem with me?” Charlotte asked through gritted teeth.

“Currently, it’s that you’re obstructing my workout.”

“That’s not what I mean!” Charlotte knelt and snatched up the pair of dumbbells before Rinkah could get her hands around on them. She hefted them both and stood with a groan, fresh sweat exploding from her forehead. “There, see?” Her jaw clenched, shoulders straining against the weights. “Just as strong as you, and ten times as beautiful!”

“You’re strong; so’s half the women in this camp. That’s not what this is about.”

Charlotte’s left eye quivered with a neurotic twitch. Her bulging biceps and thick quads quivered as she hugged the overlarge weights beneath her large breasts; the metal was slick with sweat, and they were becoming surprisingly difficult to hold. “Then would you mind telling me what—”

“It’s about your attitude.” Rinkah, impatient, realized she’d been waiting weeks for this opportunity. “Always swooning, prancing around, playing the damsel whenever a man’s about. So what if you’re strong? Doesn’t make you any less pathetic.”

“Pathetic!?”

Rage exploded through Charlotte’s blood. She hurled the dumbbells to the side, and Rinkah flinched at the sound of splintering wood as they leveled a nearby sapling—well, at least it wasn’t a nearby person.

Still, she made no show of being impressed by Charlotte’s display. “Pathetic,” she repeated, turning to go.

Suddenly, Charlotte’s hands were around the heavy obsidian beads Rinkah wore around her neck, cinching them, and forcing the Oni woman’s eyes to hers. A furious sneer plastered across her face. “I’ll show you who’s pathetic.”

“Be careful what you wish for, princess,” Rinkah said, casually lifting a finger to scratch at her cheek. “In the Fire Tribe, we play for keeps.”

“Who are you calling a princess, you brute?” Charlotte’s eyes burned like fire, her fingers flexing and twisting, cinching Rinkah’s necklace tight enough to choke. “You and me, right now.”

Rinkah quirked an eyebrow, glancing between Charlotte’s twisted faced and her maniacally clenching hands with blasé care. “And what do I get out of it, when I win?”

Charlotte blinked, her hands retracting. The righteous anger flitted away from her face, replaced in an instant by one of her characteristically vampish smiles. “You said you Fire Tribe bullies play for keeps, didn’t you?” Shy as a schoolgirl, she clasped her hands to the torc around her neck, muscular forearms pushing the swells of her breasts together in deep cleavage. “Well, whoever makes the other one yield, I suppose they could take whatever they wanted.” After a pause, she practically popped each syllable off of her lips. “Winner. Take. All.”

“Winner take all?” Rinkah replied, crossing her arms.

Charlotte groaned, a frustrated scowl shattering her affectation. “What, do they breed ‘em hard of hearing in the Fire Tribe? It’s as I said! Whoever wins may claim any prize she likes.”

“We’ll just see about that.”

Rinkah took a few steps backwards, rolling out each shoulder and flexing her broad shoulders to limber herself up. The workout had left her aching, to be sure, but she had twice the fight left in her it’d require to take down this bore of a woman. “How’s this going to go down?”

“Wrestling. Bring your opponent to the ground, make her yield, simple enough for even your muscle-choked brain to comprehend.” Charlotte was already bouncing on her toes in anticipation of the fight. “No holds barred—” She gave a bit of a smirk. “Trust me, you’ll need every advantage you can get.”

“Don't think I'm going to go easy on you, wench.” Rinkah cracked her knuckles, moving her bare foot in a brief semi-circle through the dust before her. “I've seen how you fight when you think the men aren't looking.”

Charlotte snarled, spat into the ground. “Better than you, you mean?”

Rinkah advanced in a crouch, a wrestler's pose with shoulders hunched and arms extended. For all the world, she appeared almost to be a predatory cat, stalking towards her target, fingers crooked, ready to grab or strike.

Charlotte didn't crouch in response to her rival's encroaching posture—only lifted one sandaled foot, and planted it firmly, kicking up a cloud of dirt. One hand went to her knee as she bent forward insouciantly, a sneer on her lips. Her fingers curled around the haft of an imaginary axe and, finding themselves empty, closed into a fist. Left, right, her eyes shifted as she watched Rinkah stalk. Lither than she, faster than she… but Charlotte had her own ways of fighting…

A deep breath, a twisted grin, and she lunged forward, deceptively fast—the same soft skin, smoothed out over muscles, that she imagined made it so easy to seduce made her power easy to underestimate. “Jealous bitch!” She growled, aiming for Rinkah's solar plexus with artless brute force.

And perhaps Rinkah did underestimate her, in a sense, but that didn't mean she wasn't fighting to win. With surprisingly alacrity, she shifted out of the way of the blow, springing to the side on her ready knees. She'd anticipated how the over-eager movement, fueled by the very zealous rage she'd stoked in the woman, would leave Charlotte off-balance.

With Charlotte flailing from the momentum of her whiffed blow, Rinkah quickly surged in to the fill the gap. A rough hand leashed Charlotte by her long, blonde hair, spinning the tall woman around and into her, her muscled arm closing around her opponent’s neck.

Pathetic, just as she'd said.

Charlotte arched her back in futile attempt to slip the hold. She tugged and twisted as Rinkah held her pinned. Grunting with the impact of Charlotte's back against her chest, Rinkah forced the woman into a half nelson and hooked a leg around Charlotte's ankle, aiming to keep her restrained. Her nose slid through the woman's silky blonde hair and over her ear, drawing in the smell of cheap amber perfume and powdery foundation layered over the fragrant sweat of exertion as she pulled her close, and onto her tip-toes to reduce her ability to resist.

The evocative scent of sweat, stoked by hard exercise and the pounding midday heat, cut through Charlotte's nose as Rinkah whispered, lips-to-ear. “I wasn't expecting much, but this is embarrassing.”

Charlotte pulled within the painful embrace, grasping for something—anything!—to give her leverage on the Oni woman. She flexed, tensed, fingers catching at the thick plates that, in armed combat, would have served to protect the woman's thighs. But she couldn't hold, couldn't concentrate, a bouquet of pain blossoming in her shoulder—and something else blossoming between her thighs. A sudden dampness—the hold she was in was so tight, and she could feel Rinkah's plush chest, bound down by wrappings, against her back, and the straining muscles of her captor keeping her...

Rinkah permitted no counterattack. “Come on now, little kitten, I deserve a better fight than this!” Her hips flexed upward against Charlotte's rump, keeping her up on her toes, and, bicep surging pointedly against Charlotte’s throat, she imbued her dominance into this woman. “Yield.”

A growl came, feral, as Charlotte obeyed the blood blistering within her, scrabbling her nails against the cloth binding on Rinkah’s forearm, seeking purchase, or some way to resist, to turn the tables. Charlotte’s eyes blazed, and she shrugged away the onset of irritation. Stomach tensed, abdominal muscles tightening, pulling her legs up from the ground, putting her entire agonizing weight on Rinkah's arms. She set her jaw and firmed powerful shoulders to bear her full weight as slowly she sank towards the ground. One inch, then another—if she could JUST plant her feet, she might...

In truth, Rinkah was struggling too. The weight of Charlotte upon her compressed the rippling muscles of her abdomen. The hot rush of her panting breath spilling out over burning skin as she fought Charlotte's desperate, ad-hoc maneuver. Her back arched with strain, the thick silver rings piercing her nipples pressed against Charlotte's back through the thick cloth wrappings that bound her chest. Charlotte was no weak opponent, and Rinkah knew that allowing her to stay standing meant anything could happen. With a roar, she availed herself of Charlotte's bid to escape, transferring the momentum of both bodies with a twist of her hips and a flex of her biceps, throwing Charlotte's contorted body facedown to the earth.

Immediately she was upon her, depositing her full weight upon Charlotte's back, compressing the warrior’s stomach against the ground and knocking the wind out of her. Thick fingers found the scruff of Charlotte's neck, pinning her face to the dirt just as her body weight did upon the warrior's back. “Yield,” Rinkah intoned.

“NEVER!” the Nohrian warrior shouted—or tried to shout, with her cheek smudged and abraded against the dusty earth. Her ears rang with the ferocity of Rinkah's cry, her body taut beneath the woman's weight. Her muscles still ached from the escape attempt, and her eyes, bleary with the pain of the maneuver and her subsequent humiliation, swam.

Not enough, though, that she could miss the sight, half-obscured by dust, of other warriors approaching the fracas, drawn by the sound of alarm. From knees-down, of course, not all could be recognized—but only a few warriors walked the camp in bare feet, after all. She howled with fury as Rinkah’s fingers twisted deeper into her hair. She thrashed with piercing mortification as the Oni woman placed a bracing hand down upon her rump to keep her still.

“Yield!”

She would not be cowed so easily. “Never,” she declared, eyes shut, face red with exertion, lungs screaming for each gasping breath. She could feel the heat of her opponent on her bare back, could feel the Oni warrior's hand upon her rump. “Ungrateful cunt!” She spat, heedless of her audience, of the way the dust settled upon the sodden cloth of her thong, making her desire clear.

Rinkah needed no visual indication of Charlotte's neediness, she could smell it as frankly as the summer breeze that stirred through the camp, lazily swirling up the dust that clogged her opponent's eyes and throat. Rinkah grinned with the thrill of victory flooding through her blood, sinking her thick body heavier down upon her foe, and forcing Charlotte to bear the physical pressure of her loss in full.

“Ungrateful?” She asked, feigning naivety. “By the end of this, I imagine one of our cunts will be rather grateful indeed...”

The twinge of passion that had been stirring in her gut met, and melded into, the rage and bloodlust of combat. It had been easy to win, sadly so, but that didn't have to mean it was over...

Winner take all, those were the stakes, weren’t they?

The crowd grew larger with the sounds of their struggle, half the camp coming out to watch the ceremony of Rinkah unmasking Charlotte for the beast she was. Well, Rinkah thought, let’s give them a show.

Without ceremony, Rinkah began to rock upon her captive enemy, letting Charlotte feel the instructive, unmistakable stroke of her cunt as it came to motion atop her—it was bare beneath the warrior's skirt she wore, and there was no mistaking the cold, wet pressure of the silver barbell that pierced her clit.

“Yield,” she said again, fingers gripping Charlotte’s scalp like the caught kitten she was.

Charlotte squirmed and bucked beneath her, howling her indomitability to the dusty earth.

“Face facts,” Rinkah said, now digging the fingers of both hands into Charlotte's long hair and wrenching her chin upwards, displaying to her the crowd come to observe her loss. “You're an embarrassment,” she growled, her hips smearing a potent blend of sweat and arousal along the smooth curve of Charlotte's back, and a rosy hue came to her cheeks. “So clearly it falls to me to instruct you.”

Charlotte groped in vain with her free hand against the dirt, finding a small, useless rock—no handhold at all—and crushing it to powder, as the sudden chill of her rival's piercing iced along her spine. She grunted, indelicately, as her hair was tugged, her head yanked upwards—and her eyes, for half a second, met those of a watching Corrin. Desperate, despite herself, she gave a demure smile in defiance of the dust in her eyes and the swelling of her cheek.

The match complete, instruct Rinkah did. “This, for example?” Knuckles filtering tight against each other through Charlotte’s silken, well-kept hair. “It's a liability. Were you not so vain, your hair would be shorter, more suited to fighting than flirting, and I might never've gotten you in that chokehold in the first place.”

Charlotte felt the slickness along her back, felt herself marked by the hot, untamed musk of the Oni woman. She panted, whined like grinding gears beneath Rinkah's power. “Go on... enjoy yourself.” She worked her hand faster, sending a low shudder through her back, against that damp, wet, conquering cunt, and with one hand tore away the cloth thong that barely covered her nethers, that would stand no longer between her fingers and her pleasure. “You'll never... touch better...” A grunt, another long moan as she began to shiver with release. Before her, Corrin’s eyes grew wide. Charlotte smiled; she'd made an impression, at least.

“I intend to,” Rinkah husked through coarse breaths as her body came up to speed. Her hips began to buck, and she squeezed her powerful thighs against Charlotte's effort to lift herself—mistaken for a final, futile escape attempt—forcing her back against the ground. But she grinned, noticing that Charlotte's thrashing served a different, lustful purpose. “It's what we agreed upon, after all, isn't it?”

Charlotte’s eyes shot wide, and, with dusty fingers in her hair, sweat shimmering on her forehead, and her victor mounting her like a tamed animal, she moaned. Her hips rocked against the ground, her palms flat in the dust. “Loveless bitch!” She growled, half-convulsing, flexing her arms and shoulders lifting her body—and the other woman's upon it—just enough to work a hand beneath her before shuddering down, her fingers imprisoned between her clenching quads, rubbing madly at the dampened jewel that studded the hood of her now-exposed clit.

Rinkah grinned at the gathered crowd as she sat astride her lesser—that wasn't part of the plan, but it seemed the perfect method to imbue some humility into this braggart. Rinkah's fingers clenched around Charlotte's skull, digging into that long hair, perfectly suited as reins. Confident of her control, she permitted herself to loose her other hand, to slip it under her skirts, and to encourage her own hungry body to rapid pleasure as she thumped her all-consuming possession into the defeated woman with each throw of her hips. Calloused fingers found her clit, engorged and hungry, burning with lust, sexual and battle both, and she frigged her finger easily, pitching it roughly back and forth against the thick metal of her piercing and emitting an engorged groan as she displayed her conquest to the crowd at large.

Charlotte moaned, she bucked. Her fingers, delicate despite their typically brutish work, played pinned at her clit, pulled and tugged, pushed against the heating metal piercing her, feeling the silver slide electric through. She lowed again, shameful as a kept cow, pressing rigid against her captor, her own heart burning with a resentment and pride that filtered its way into lust at her loins.

Charlotte’s toes curled against the earth, sending up dust and exposing the firm ground beneath. She could feel Rinkah’s grip relax on her hair even as she was ground, humped by powerful muscle into the dirt. Filth, lust, and sweat stained her skin. Her free arm pulled to her side, palm flat to the ground, and she cried out with undisguised pleasure for the remaining crowd—even bereft of her primary target, there must still be someone who'd be eager—hungry even—to soothe the bruised spirit of a beautiful woman! Charlotte turned her eyes once more to the onlookers to see, as her desire puddled between her thighs, sparked by the furnace-heat of the woman above.

In the crowd, Corrin startled, surprised by the touch of Camilla’s hand upon her shoulder; with an immaculately sensual grace, Camilla leaned down, whispering some quiet intimation into Corrin’s ear. Corrin’s cheeks exploded with scarlet color, and she bit down upon her lip, as both noble ladies of Nohr fixed their eyes directly upon Charlotte’s lust-contorted features.

Teeth ground down—Charlotte could feel it burn within, stoked all the hotter by seeing the effect her actions and predicament had on Lady Corrin, and the way her sister was using this opportunity. Not so long... another moment, maybe two... and she trembled, her body home to a powerful, clenching orgasm, sparking life and energy and pleasure from her deepest core, up through her body—a sign she knew could only be seen as purest submission and abject defeat at the hands of the gleaming, powerful Oni. She cried out, a trembling sound, as the brunt of passion overcame her.

In echo, Rinkah's body compressed inside itself, a clench that ran straight from cunt to core. Her thighs closed around Charlotte's flanks. Her hair was soaked and tousled by the sweat pouring from her beneath the beating noon sun; but that heat was a simple, insipid imitation of that which burned inside her. Arm flexing, muscles coiling, Rinkah jerked Charlotte to further attention with the fingers still wrapped tighter than sin in her hair. With a conclusive buck, and an eager frot of her hips against the prone Charlotte, Rinkah growled out her orgasm with conclusive pride, announcing wordlessly her ultimate triumph in the match.

The first one always came and went too quick. Dizzied with satiation, Rinkah spilled from her perch to the ground beside Charlotte, falling upon her ass and bracing her arms behind her. Her chest heaved with each pant, stomach flaring like a forge's bellow. Her head lolled backwards, and she blinked away the blotches of color that sprung up in her vision as she stared up into the clear skies, relishing in cool feel of sweat upon her skin.

Charlotte's palms were already flat to the ground beneath her body. Charlotte's muscles were already stiff and taut with the downward pressure. Charlotte's toes were already curled up, planted against the earth, the motions of her feet having cleared away slippery dirt and provided firm footing beneath.

Exhausted, Rinkah let her legs splay open, exposing her climax-dampened cunt to the crowd, providing a full view of the glittering silver nestled in the dense, damp platinum fur that crowned her sex for all the see—so what? Let them look. She had no care for the crowd, not a single one of them was worth of taking her in the ring, let alone the battlefield.

Perhaps if Effie were here… Oh, wouldn't that be a good bout? Far better than that which this simpering, conniving woman provided. Rinkah had a crick in her neck, but that was the worst the fight took from her. Stretching her head languidly from side to side, she began to say, “Catch your breath, loser. You'll need it in a moment—”

Rinkah no time to utter the final edict of her dominance before the Nohrian pushed herself up from the ground, a coiled spring, directly into a pounce. Rinkah's gasping, exhilarated victory, that bare few moments of incaution, permitted a dynamic Charlotte to roll over, grasp Rinkah's arm, and force the Oni woman flat to the ground, her powerful legs scissor-locked hard around Rinkah's neck.

With the surprise of the attack, Rinkah could do naught but snarl. She couldn’t even get her arms up before Charlotte flattened her to the ground, kicking up a storm of dust that obscured their forms for a heartbeat. Though she called Charlotte a kitten, it was Rinkah who mewled like a stuck cat, her trapped arms too beleaguered by her morning exercises to put up a fight against Charlotte's pinning knees. The creamy, soft skin of Charlotte’s tightly-muscled thighs constricted her breathing, holding her docile.

Charlotte rose on her knees, facing out towards the crowd, looking along the line of Rinkah's splayed legs, her arms pinning Rinkah's flat to the dust, tensed thighs locking Rinkah's head against her own sodden, exposed pussy. Beneath the bandages of Rinkah's chest, Charlotte could see swelling nubs, circular relief. Pierced—like someone befitting of Rinkah's lack of grace—with solid rings. Without a care, she tore the bandages from Rinkah’s chest, and the Oni warrior’s thick breasts quavered like jelly atop her thick pectorals as they were bared, free to the open air, the silver rings run through her dark nipples glinting in the sunlight.

“There. Did you think you won, just because you got to yowl like a cat in heat and show off?” A vicious, twisted, unladylike grin flashed across her face like lightning, before being replaced by a sweet, demure smile, and a wink at the suddenly-terrified Xander, who had apparently meandered back to observe the show, despite his previous claims of a busy schedule—Feh!

“Now then,” Charlotte said, winking down at her captive, and giving the heavy silver rings a vicious tug, pulling at Rinkah’s thick nipples, already taut with potent sensitivity. “Does the Oni cunt yield?”

Rinkah fought and struggled beneath Charlotte with all the vigor of her noble lineage, but she was helpless! And made doubly so by the potent odor of Charlotte's stained cunt clogging her nose. This close, the spicy scent of it seemed to drown her brain, and she could barely think, let alone mount a proper counterattack.

Oh, but she could shout. “Get off me, Nohrian!” She snarled, fingers flexing futilely, grasping for something (anything!) to aid her escape, much in the same way Charlotte had mere moments ago. Her hips bucked and flailed, legs kicking at nothing, her struggles providing naught but a wonderful show of her open, seeping cunt to the crowd. “You'd already lost—”

Before Rinkah could reply, or otherwise deny her ongoing loss, a crack of flesh against flesh rent the air.

“Anh!” Rinkah exclaimed, the sound almost demure in its shock—and hardly befitting a bold, brazen warrior like herself—as Charlotte’s palm struck hard against her cheek.

“Still got some fight in you, eh?” Charlotte asked, her spine erect with the potent thrill of her dominance. Her hips settled down, the cloister of her thighs bracing into Rinkah’s chin, setting the defeated warrior’s head reeling beneath the intangible force of its overwhelming, lusty perfume. “Well, we’ve ways to deal with that.”

Again and again, Charlotte laid into Rinkah with a series of stinging slaps, striking over and over with her palm until her opponent’s face was quite red. “Insult me, call me pathetic.” She grunted, palm going red as Rinkah’s stung cheeks as she continued her work between the words. Rinkah’s hands lay limp beside her, helpless, able only to flex in plaintive gesture, her abdomen shining with fresh perspiration and trembling with each husky gasp of breath. Well and truly defeated, Rinkah’s entire shape shook with the resounding shame of her defeat.

“I guess…” Charlotte panted with the heaving breaths of her effort as she applied into Rinkah the physical instruction of her failure. “The whole camp knows who’s the pathetic one now!” With a concussive clap, she struck a final time upon Rinkah’s cheek.

As Charlotte’s conclusive strike hit home, Rinkah emitted something like the subdued squall of a feral animal. Her spine, for the briefest instant, went rigid with impact before she slumped, shoulders slack and cheek lowered against the dirt, short, platinum hair scattered into her impact-reddened face.

But the humbled posture was not what drew Charlotte’s interest, it was her nipples, noticeably pointed and stiff around the thick silver rings piercing them.

“Oh, that’s how the Oni cunt likes it?” Charlotte’s grin plastered from ear to ear as she lifted Rinkah’s chin with a single, slender finger, forcing their gazes to meet. “My my, whoever would’ve thought…”

But it was Charlotte’s other hand, plying its trade against Rinkah’s silver piercings, bringing those crinkled nipples to even stiffer life with eager, painful tugs, that caused Rinkah to thrash, to mewl, to avert her eyes. Charlotte would have none of that, however, and summoned Rinkah’s attention with an abrupt grab and shake of her jaw.

“Do you yield?” Charlotte asked, coy as could be.

Rinkah yearned to stand up and fight, but even the rustle of her hips caused her body to betray her. Her legs burned as if filled with acid, and her arms hung limp at her sides.

Buoyed by the eddying tide of her victory, Charlotte preened. The crowd would get the show Rinkah intended, but with Charlotte at the head. But the visual while eminently satisfying, was nothing, and fleeting. Charlotte wanted more. She wanted everything, she wanted…

Charlotte crouched forward, like a beast atop its kill. “Say it, and you’ll get everything you’d ever dreamed.” Her words cut the air in a harsh whisper, a clandestine message, quiet enough for only Rinkah to hear. “Right here, in front of all these people, just as you’ve always wanted.”

Rinkah was well and truly defeated; so weak she couldn’t even find the strength to voice the words, she could only whimper. Her eyes flicked away from the sneer, wild visage above her. The shame of her loss, and of this pointed display of it, was rivaled only by the searing, burgeoning desire firing through her body, sending clamping ripples through muscles, stomach, and fiercely needy cunt. But she could not. She would never, not even at this unfair turnabout—Charlotte, that underhanded cur, she’d cheated! That’s the only reason she’d lost!

…memories of Effie’s knowing “mmhmm” filtered through Rinkah’s head, and her slap-stung cheeks flared even further red with her realization; she wasn’t ashamed of Charlotte’s ridiculous flirtations with the men of the camp…

…she was… envious of it?

“…say it…” uttered Charlotte,

Rinkah’s voice spilled from her in a croak, eminently aware of her position below this woman, not just physically, but…

Her face grew crimson with the vocal acceptance of her role. “I-I yield…”

Charlotte, resplendent in her victory, stifled a brawny cackle. “Wonderful!” Her first orgasm had only lit the furnace of her, and now her hips flexed and roiled with further, oncoming need. “Now then, let’s move on to the winner takes all portion of the evening, shall we?”

Despite her acquiescence, the yearn for battle still surged in Rinkah’s veins. She could not fight, but she could speak. She would scream her defiance, and, thus, impart this slim, remaining measure of her strength not just to the feeble woman astride her, but to the whole, lingering, leering crowd!

Or so she thought. Whatever words Rinkah might've said next were gone, consumed by the thrust of Charlotte's body into her. Cunt compressed atop Rinkah’s pliant, accepting lips, comfortably muting her. Charlotte relaxed back, grinding her hot, sweat-and-lust sopping pussy directly against her captive's face. Rinkah’s nose flared immediately in search of breath, and her on-going screams—yes, even a faceful of pussy could not dampen her prideful nature—went unheard, but for the magnificently pleasing vibrations they ricocheted through Charlotte's sopping sex.

“Hmhmhm! This isn't the first time you've lost, is it, cunt?” Charlotte trilled, manic with the sensation of passion and possession surging through her supple, muscular shape. Fingers captured the tousled tresses of Rinkah’s pale white hair, skillfully guiding the frustrated waggle of her prize’s tongue. “You seem to have a taste for it!”

In that moment, Charlotte was, perhaps, terrifying. A captive opponent screaming defiance underneath her, as she practically lounged back, eyes lazy with pleasure, face sculpted into the most elegant smile she could manage as her opponent's pain and humiliation thrilled through her. She moaned with the ecstasy of sound through sensitive flesh, the vibrations sending her piercing a-buzz, but she clamped down on the sound, forcing it into a contorted, ladylike titter.

Rinkah's nose wheezed with effort to take in fresh air as Charlotte crushed the blunt of it with each possessive sweep of her hips. She moaned—not from pleasure, perish the thought!—with the difficulty of clearing her mind when each strangled breath only drew the piquant aroma of Charlotte's cunt deeper into her dizzied senses.

Legs locked tighter around Rinkah's neck, warning swift, powerful retribution for any defiance, and Charlotte reached behind her. Her impossibly delicate fingers danced along the sharp delineation of Rinkah's abdomen—slick and powerful—and with two fingers, she spread her would-be captor’s pussy wide for all viewers. “Gracious...” she murmured. “Did Lady Corrin know you were such a tremendous slut, when she recruited you?” Another vicious giggle, the frenzied ring of her axe on steel around the edges, and she tugged at Rinkah's piercing even as she pressed her own cunt, barbarously hot and wet, against Rinkah's face.

The shackled lock of Charlotte's thighs around her neck kept Rinkah compliant in a way she'd never acknowledge as conscious. This was her fate, as the loser; inwardly, buried deep, she craved it. Slowly, the flailing of her legs stopped, replaced by the subtle, sensual writhe of her claimed shape. Her eyes went to slits at the trace of Charlotte's fingers along her heaving stomach, but just as quickly then went wide, when Charlotte found not one, but two ways to besmirch her prowess. First with words, which were embarrassing, surely, but altogether fleeting. Words didn't bother her, not one whit.

The painfully erotic tug of Charlotte's fingers around her piercing, however, did. Again, she moaned, and this time, even she could not deny the ripple of pleasure she felt at this—being conquered. Her muscles unwound; she gave in. Despite everything still fighting inside her, Rinkah whimpered out the sound of her submission, and what followed was evidence of this pact—obediently, she parted her lips, groaning as the salty taste of sweat and sex flooded her mouth. Compliant, eyes drenched with reburgeoning lust, she extended her tongue, and painted the declaration of her defeat upon her champion's power-drenched pussy.

Charlotte felt her rival go slack beneath her, felt the woman's powerful muscles relax—and then tense, Rinkah's powerful body bent to her will, played like a lute by the merest tug or press of her fingertips. She spread Rinkah's pussy wide, once more, leaning back, her strong arms against that rippled abdomen. Two fingers delved within Rinkah's cunt, testing the warmth, feeling how she made Rinkah's pinned body. A flex of scissored fingers, and Rinkah's back arched, lifting her up. A pinch, a pull, and Rinkah coiled in anticipation and pleasure. A slow thrust, and Rinkah twisted beneath her, within the strong—somehow comforting—lock of the Nohrian woman's legs.

And Rinkah, eddied by her passion like a ship in furious sea, could only silently entreat her victor. Blindly, her fingers reached for Charlotte’s hand, begging her forward, urging those fingers to thrust every deeper inside her, to force her over the teetering brink, and reward her shameful acceptance of her role with the blistering, white-hot orgasm she deserved.

Few spectators remained—by now, all had the good grace to see that what they were watching was no longer a vicious wrestling match, and the crowd was dispersing. Coins changed hands; Benny strode away with a bulging purse that had once belonged to Hinoka. It seemed that Corrin was already long gone, along with Camilla, but Charlotte knew the reason for their early departure, and derived great satisfaction from it. Now, Charlotte thrilled in the remaining attention—the eyes upon her—as much as she did the worshipful ministrations beneath her. She led her sore muscles to pull and tense once more, build the pleasure in the deepest pit of her stomach, and, in the swelling release, gush across the lips and chin of her rival-turned-lover. Another crowing laugh of triumph as her orgasm soared victorious across the camp. That'd teach Rinkah, she exulted, to call her a...

That word echoed in her mind as her winging ecstasy began its glide back to land. Her hips pulled forward and off, giving Rinkah room to breathe, but they unconsciously retained a languid stroke against the Oni’s chest as the tremors of abating climax still tickled within Charlotte. Rinkah’s lungs surged with new access to fresh air. Divested of Charlotte’s weight, she could fight back.

But… she had already yielded…

Charlotte removed herself from atop her prey. She lounged on the ground, legs splayed carelessly out before her, muscles quivering with latent energy. “Mmmm. Hey, loser. You ARE an actual princess, ain't ya?”

An abashed flush of color scrawled across Rinkah’s dusky cheeks. She lay limp upon the ground, and the weight of her beaded obsidian necklace felt like shackles upon her form. Her face was ruddy from fighting and fucking, her nipples still stiff and anxious for touch, and her denied second orgasm rang through her loud as a chapel bell’s clanging. “S-so what if I am?” She asked.

“It’s just occurred to me that, perhaps, I’ve been going about this entirely the wrong way.” Charlotte tapped a cunt-scented finger against her lips, her thoughts meandering towards shrewd calculations of love and money. “You were so much easier to conquer than they were!”

Rinkah hated how these types spoke, Nohrians and Hoshidans both, how they dallied with words, dangling their true intent before you like a juicy, ripened fruit. She curled onto her side, hands slinking surreptitiously between her legs, fingers working aimlessly against the heat of her sex—it was futile. Her groping hands felt like clubs, inexpert and inarticulate compared to the masterful axe stroke of Charlotte’s touch.

“Ah!” Charlotte said, capping off the statement with a spritely giggle. “But you’re such a needy one, you muscle-bound oaf, frigging yourself in your own dirt.”

Rinkah suffocated the growl building in her chest. Her orgasm was caged inside her, and, with despair, she realized it was the capricious, willful Charlotte who held the gaoler’s key. “Get to the point already.”

“Well, you’re a princess of the Fire Tribe, you’re bound to become queen one of these days,” Charlotte declared. Lost for a moment in a daydream, she had no care for the frustrated writhing of Rinkah’s body. Then, with a heady inhale of breath, she fixed Rinkah with her gaze, those pale, dangerous blue eyes burning with pecuniary lust. “And the winner takes all.”

************************************

After the war, Rinkah and Charlotte absconded back to Rinkah’s ancestral home, where they wed and ruled as the Fire Tribe’s first tandem queens. As the years passed, Charlotte became known at the Queen of Many Faces. A skilled, demure, obsequious diplomat to their allies, a ferocious, blood crazed, near-feral berserker to their enemies, Charlotte’s tact in the stateroom and terror on the battlefield staked a claim for the Fire Tribe the world over. Charlotte’s parents were quite surprised when the stipends their daughter sent them experienced a substantial increase.

Rinkah, for her part, became known as the Queen of Crushing Pride; the only soul able to quell her wife’s tantrums, Rinkah proved every bit the nurturer, teacher, and strategist Charlotte was not. Under her instruction, the Fire Tribe entered an era of great prosperity, and Rinkah became a shining icon, leading her people through trial, struggle, and triumph for decades to come.

The two’s ongoing feuds and contests upon the fields of battle became legendary—as did what transpired in their private liaisons each night, after the flames of battle died. Though many of the Fire Tribe were confused as to why their dual queens only allowed a single throne in their great hall—instead, the loser of their most recent competition would kneel atop a pillow beside the victor’s throne while court was held—no one was brave enough (or stupid enough) to actually question it aloud. Though their queens’ methods of conquest, diplomacy, and even romance were tempestuous even on their mildest days, the tribe could only assume that such oddities must be the custom, back in the distant land of Nohr...