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“A piercing blow from Honey B. Lovely! Will her opponent succumb to her venom?”
The stands erupted as Vamp Fatale’s tumbling body skidded to a halt at the arena’s edge. The referee bot orbited her, closely watching for signs of movement—or the lack thereof—to prompt a 1-2-3 count.
Please. As if I’d make it that easy.
Standing opposite her, Honey B. Lovely’s back was turned away as the idol-turned-wrestler did what she does best—rallying her obsessive fanbase. She blew a kiss towards a cluster of yellow-clad fans in the bleachers, and with the sixth sense of an entertainer trained to track the spotlight like a bloodhound, she twirled in the direction of each and every camera bot in turn to strike a cutesy pose.
Gods, she hated that self-aggrandizing bitch.
What would happen, Vamp mused as she regained her footing, if her mindless drones realized that this was a rigged fight from the outset—an exhibition match for which Honey’s management had slid a hefty bribe to the president to greenlight, in order to drum up publicity for the singer’s new album? Then again, it was equally likely that her fans were already in on the kayfabe; there had to be at least a handful with the sense to question why two fighters in completely different weight classes were squaring off. And besides, as long as the storylines were compelling and the fight was a spectacle, did the scripted outcome really matter?
For her part, Vamp had no ethical qualms about her orders to throw the match, nor about being painted as the heel in this manufactured rivalry. For one thing, a decent amount of that bribe gil would line her own pockets as part of the bargain, and for another, there were plenty of other ways to enjoy oneself in the ring without winning.
Like pinning Ms. Lovely to the ground and sucking the aether from her pretty throat. It was a pleasant enough thought to distract Vamp from the pain as she ripped the javelin out of her throbbing bat wing. Dark blood oozed from the hole; rigged or not, she’d be feeling that in the morning. She tested her muscles; the wings still flapped, but slowly and feebly, as if there were some lag between her brain and her appendage—no doubt an effect of the venom Honey was known to coat her projectiles with. No matter, a ground fight suited Vamp just the same, but now it was time to even the score.
The cheers of Honey’s fans devolved into cries for caution as Vamp stalked forward, harnessing her feral soul to summon a thick iron chain from the aether. Before Honey could turn, she propelled the chain forth to snake around her opponent’s ankles, and with a nonchalant tug sent her sprawling face-down on the mat. Vamp was on her in a heartbeat, driving her stiletto heel through one of Honey’s delicate insect wings, relishing the crunch beneath her foot and the anguished cry that accompanied it.
“A cheap assault from behind, and Vamp Fatale has Honey B. Lovely snared like a housefly! Does her wanton bloodlust know no limits?”
Vamp smirked at Metem’s feigned horror—as if the management expected any different from the wrestler known as the “sweet-toothed sadist.” Vamp knew exactly what angle they were trying to achieve in pitting them against each other: Both wrestlers used control rather than brute strength to triumph in the ring, but where Honey used her allure to assert dominance, Vamp used pain and fear. For this storyline to work (and for her paycheck to clear), Vamp had to make the contrast between them unequivocal.
As for the “bloodlust” accusation? Well, undoubtedly a good deal of her reputation was exaggerated for entertainment purposes…but on the other hand, surely there’s some seed of truth at the core of every wrestler’s persona.
To that end, Vamp invoked her powers, linking her aetheric tether to Honey’s essence. Along this channel, she could absorb her victim’s aether, fueling her own strength even as theirs withered. She had no plans to drain the Hyune dry, not today at any rate, but surely she deserved just a taste in exchange for being such a good sport about this whole farce.
Tearing her heel free of the ruined wing, Vamp descended, straddling her hips to pin her in place as her claws ravaged the other wing into useless ribbons. Each slash sent a delicious throb back up to her through the aetheric link in time with Honey’s shrieks. Rather than slate her cravings, the flow of aether only intensified them, and her claws scratched wildly at Honey’s back through her gaudy costume. Images of the beloved songstress with crisscrossed scars across her bare, perfect skin clouded her mind and set her pulse racing.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’ve never seen such brutality in this ring! Oh, I can scarcely watch! Is this the end for the Arcadion’s queen bee?”
That was supposed to be Vamp’s cue to wrap it up, to relent and allow Honey her heroic turnaround. But she wanted more, needed more, needed to sink her teeth into the other woman’s neck and taste her life force directly from the source. Her hand reached up to collect a fistful of blonde hair; she sharply tugged her head backward, and then—
Oh.
Again she felt a pulse from their emotional link, but it didn’t feel like the ones before, saturated with fear and anger and hate. There was pain, to be sure, but also something that Vamp had never felt from her opponents in the ring before—something more like pleasure.
Oh, now that was interesting.
The revelation jolted her out of her rampage, and with her free hand she furtively tapped Honey twice on her hip—the preestablished signal that she was ready to yield. “All you, princess,” she murmured in Honey’s ear, releasing her hair and letting her head drop back down to the mat.
Honey took a few steadying breaths as she raised up onto her elbows. She unfurled the prehensile ribbons that emerged from her beast form’s waist; they wrapped around Vamp’s body and lofted her into a graceful suplex. Now Honey was on top of her, driving a stinger into her side; she felt the venom course through her body and her limbs grow heavy as the paralysis consumed her. Her consciousness faded in and out as a flurry of blows descended upon her, and she distantly heard Honey’s voice: “Nothin’ personal, love.” And though her voice was nectar-sweet, there was no mistaking the hatred in her eyes.
It didn’t take long to find Honey after the match. While Vamp had already reverted from her beast form, showered, and changed into her everyday attire, Honey had only just finished the whirlwind of ringside interviews and promotional photoshoots and was still in her greenroom, standing before the floor-length mirror, fussing over a blemish on her chin. Vamp slipped into the room silently (thankful that the Arcadion still employed humans as security detail instead of sentry bots, as the former were much easier to send scurrying off with a murderous glare) and leaned against a wall just out of sight, waiting to be noticed.
Honey did not even glance up from her skincare regime. “You know, usually it’s the winner who comes to gloat after a match, not the loser,” she remarked coolly; already she had dropped the cheerful lilt of her idol persona and spoke in her normal register. It always unnerved Vamp how she could turn that affect off as easily as one would flick a lightswitch.
“I did not come here to gloat.”
“Pray enlighten me, then.” She unbuttoned her costume and let it fall to her feet; one arm shielded her chest from view as she stepped out of it. Modesty— Vamp made a mental note to divest the girl of that, too, along with her pride.
“Why, I came to congratulate you. It was quite the performance. I’m sure you had at least one or two people fooled.”
“To insult me, then. I should have expected no less.” She strode across the room, continuing to gloss over Vamp’s presence like so much furniture, to retrieve and don a bra from her duffle bag. As she struggled with the clasp, Vamp allowed her gaze to feast on her nude profile much longer than was probably proper. She had to admit, it was no wonder the media loved working with her; the Hyune was already blessed in all the right places, with little need for photo editing.
Vamp pushed off from the wall, stepping towards her. “On the contrary, I hoped to propose a rematch. A real one, this time, no holds barred. I think it would be fun to determine which of us is truly the stronger.”
“Talk to my manager. I’m a very busy woman—”
The last of her patience eroded; she would not be ignored anymore. Her hand darted out to grab Honey’s wrist and pin it to the wall behind her. “You misunderstand me,” she said, leaning in until their foreheads nearly touched. “I was thinking right now.”
She finally graced Vamp with defiant eye contact. “Remove your hands from me or I’ll remove them for you,” she hissed.
“Oh, I’d love to see you try.” One hand tightened on Honey’s wrist while the other trailed up her neck, tilting her chin up with an index finger. “You know, I think I finally figured out why you despise me so much. You hate that I see right through you.”
“I despise you because you’re a disgusting person who profits off of people’s disgusting fetishes.”
Vamp declined to remark on the whole pot-kettle situation of that statement, because now it was time to play her cards. “Funny, you didn’t seem that disgusted when you almost came underneath me because I tugged on your hair a bit.”
Honey’s face blanched, eyes darting around the room—there it was again, that celebrity instinct to scan every room for anyone, or anything, that might be eavesdropping. There was no use denying the accusation; she was perfectly aware of Vamp’s empathetic powers. “If you tell a soul about that, I swear on the Queen Eternal I’ll kill you.”
“Nothing we say or do here will ever leave this room.” The grip on her wrist softened ever so slightly, as did her voice. “Rules of the Arcadion still apply. If you want me to stop at any point, you need only tap out and I will walk away.”
She watched a momentary war elapse behind Honey’s eyes, her pride, her propriety, and that heretofore unspoken desire all vying for command. Finally, she said, “I have absolutely no intention of surrendering to the likes of you.”
Vamp smirked; that was probably the closest thing to verbal consent she was likely to get. “Oh, I’m going to enjoy breaking you, princess.” She leaned further in, to the point that she could feel Honey’s breath on her own lips, pausing there for just a moment, one last chance for Honey to push her away and call this off. To her delight, no resistance came, and she captured her prey in a hungry kiss. Honey’s frantic eyes finally fluttered shut as she yielded to the kiss, as Vamp pressed closer against her body to deepen it. Gods, but her lips were softer than she could have imagined. What they must feel like elsewhere on her body….
She grazed her teeth against Honey’s lower lip, then bit down; it didn’t take an aetheric bond this time to feel the shudder that went through the other girl’s body, nor to hear her pleasured gasp. Vamp moved her mouth lower now, down the slope of her neck, reaching that artery that had so tempted her during the match. Her instincts were not as keen with her feral soul dormant, but she could still feel the warm pulse of life beneath the skin, worshipping it with her lips and tongue.
“I should mention that I despise that nickname too,” Honey managed through hitched breath, one hand reaching up to Vamp’s neck to pull her in closer.
“Princess?” Honey nodded against her. “See, I think it suits you perfectly.” Vamp’s free hand wandered lower, occupying the space between their bodies. The fingers traced along the outline of her bra cup. “A pretty, perfect little doll, put on a pedestal for the masses to yearn over. Those poor, desperate little commoners. They slaver over you, and you enjoy every moment of it.”
“Stop acting like you have me all figured out.” She arched against the fingers upon her chest. “You know nothing about me.”
“No? Stop me when I’m wrong then.” Vamp’s fingers then pulled the bra down, her hand cupping and squeezing at the curve of her breast. “I think it turns you on knowing that there are thousands here in the Everkeep who would forfeit every soul in their regulator for the chance to touch you like this.” She pinched and tugged the nipple between her fingers to emphasize the point; Honey’s head lolled back with a deep whimper. “I think when you do your little magazine photoshoots in those tiny bikinis, you think about all those fans leaving sticky tributes on the pages, wishing it was you in the flesh.”
She nudged Honey’s thighs slightly apart with her knee, leaving just a hint of pressure between her legs. If she wanted relief, she’d have to seek it out herself. “And I think if I hadn’t intruded today, you’d be touching yourself in front of that mirror right now, reliving the way you had them in your thrall, chanting your name. Am I warm?”
“Fuck you,” Honey hissed—not a very convincing denial as her hips shifted, grinding slightly against Vamp’s thigh. Vamp pulled away then, relinquishing the hold on her wrist and taking a step back with a goading smile at the sound of Honey’s frustration over the loss of contact.
“Impatient girl. Go sit on the bench for me. Don’t make me drag you there.” As Honey complied, Vamp carried the dressing mirror over so that it stood at one of the bench’s ends. Vamp straddled the bench, settling in behind Honey, and began to unclasp her bra. As the straps fell down her shoulders, she again lifted an arm to conceal her breasts; Vamp roughly pulled the arm down and pinned it behind her back. “Arms down and eyes forward, or I’ll stop.” Honey hesitated, then nodded. Good—for all her backtalk, she could in fact follow orders.
“So here’s the part I don’t think you understand about yourself,” Vamp continued over her shoulder, hand trailing down her stomach, finally reaching the warm, damp spot that she could feel even through her underwear. “You tell yourself that these things get you off because of the power you exert over them. You fashion yourself a dominant because of the way they throw themselves at your feet. But that’s not really it, is it?” Two fingers found her clit and teased it through the fabric; Honey fully moaned this time, throwing her head back.
“Eyes. Forward.” She withdrew her hand and used it to wrench Honey’s chin back in the direction of the mirror. This time, as Vamp’s hand traced back down her midriff, she pulled the fabric of the underwear to one side, fully exposing her. Vamp savored the blush that appeared on Honey’s reflection as she continued to stroke her. “As I was saying. You really are no dominant at all. You want them to use you. Commodify you. Degrade you.” The pace of her fingers increased as she spoke. “All you want is for someone to fuck you, to take all you have to give them, and then throw you aside. Don’t you?”
“Mmmhhh…” Honey could scarcely keep her eyes open at this point, much less formulate a clever retort.
“Yes or no?”
“Yes,” she breathed; it was as much a confession as a plea.
A wave of arousal pulsed through Vamp’s own body at the admission. “Good girl,” she growled as the two fingers she was teasing her with slipped effortlessly inside her. There was no gentleness in the way she fingered Honey, and the girl bucked wildly against her hand, fingers clutching desperately at Vamp’s thighs at either side of her for support. Her modesty evaporated as she watched herself be fucked; Gods, what a lovely view that was.
It didn’t take long for the girl to begin to tighten around her, and her hips moved even more frenetically. “Vamp, I— please—”
“Show me,” she whispered into her ear without stopping. “Show me what a needy slut you are.”
Honey’s voice cried out in release, a lovelier sound than any song she’d ever recorded. Vamp held her palm firmly against her as she rode it out. As Honey’s body finally went limp against her, Vamp propped her upright, untangling from the girl and rising from the bench.
That was enough character growth for one day, Vamp concluded. It was time to take what she wanted now.
She reached for her tablet in her bag, running some programs as Honey watched on in confusion. She’d understand soon enough, as Vamp slid her leather pants down past her hips, revealing a strap-on fashioned entirely of electrope. It was truly one of the great marvels of modern Everkeep technology: the ability to shape ambient lightning aether a custom dildo on demand in precisely the size and shape that the user desired. It was a tool that had served her well on countless occasions, and she never stopped thanking her stars for the good fortune of growing up within the dome.
Honey’s eyes widened at the sight of it—it might have been fear, or hunger, or a mix of both. Vamp stroked it idly with one hand as she returned to the bench; each stroke sent a thrumming vibration against her core, and that vibration only amplified as she grinded it along Honey’s cheek.
“If I had a real cock, I’d make a mess on that pretty face of yours. Maybe take some pictures, find out which paparazzi would pay the most for them? I bet I’d be set for life.”
“If you had a real cock, I’d bite it off.” Ah, it seemed her pride still remained after all. Vamp found she didn’t mind; it would have been a sore disappointment if her rival could be tamed completely with just one orgasm.
“Such a filthy mouth for an idol. Let me fill it for you.” For the second time that day she fisted the girl’s hair, pulling her mouth onto the makeshift cock. Her grip on the blonde hair tightened as she thrusted into the singer’s soft mouth, each thrust intensifying the buzzing sensation between her legs. Her mind drifted from one pleasurable thought to the next: the sloppy wet sounds from the girl beneath her, the strangled moan she made when she pushed especially deep, the memory of how Honey looked in the mirror writhing beneath her touch. Vamp replayed that last one over and over, chasing her release on the horizon, and then—
Honey pulled back then, wiping her messy mouth with the back of her hand, a devious glint returning to her eye. Before Vamp could react, Honey hooked her ankle around the Eldite’s legs, sweeping them out from under her and laying her out flat on the greenroom floor.
“What the fuck—”
“If you wanted a rematch, you should have never let your guard down,” Honey explained in her icy-sweet voice. She dropped to her knees, kneeling over the other woman before descending upon the dildo. Vamp groaned as the sensation of her heat and tightness channelled along the aether, and she marvelled at the sight of this perfect being grinding on her, tits bouncing, head thrown back in ecstasy. She relinquished control and gave into the sensation, allowing the girl to ride her until they both peaked and then collapsed, spent.
“That’s victory to me by pinfall, by the way,” Honey announced as she stood to retrieve her strewn undergarments.
Vamp chuckled in response. “Whatever you say, princess.”
“I’ll have my manager check my schedule about another exhibition match. You’re right, we should do this again soon.” She pulled the rest of her clothes on and then planted a kiss on Vamp’s cheek. “Maybe a cage match next time?” With a wink, she turned on her heel and left, leaving Vamp still lying on the floor as the door swung shut.
She stared at the ceiling, processing everything that had happened, and reflecting on Honey’s final words with a shit-eating grin. Next time. Yeah. That could be fun.