Game of Thrones Commission - Melisandre vs Ygritte vs Myranda

This one gets magical and spiritual, so strap in for that! Definitely had to handle a lot of lore on this one, but I think it all fits in considering I didn't know any going into it.

Melisandre had zealously served the Red God R’hollor throughout her entire life. Thanks to her skill with the magic of Red Priests and Priestesses, that life was exceptionally long. She had spent hundreds of years followers the Red God's visions and performing his rituals, and she had become one of his most devout and powerful worshipers. She maintained a youthful visage, appearing as a lovely redhead in her early twenties unless another form was needed.

The Red God's messages could be cryptic, to say the least, casting rapid images into her vision or dreams. She saw a great blizzard, miles wide by the looks of it and moving in fast. There were men building a wall at ridiculous speeds, piling stone after stone until the wall towered over certain castles. It blocked her view of the cold storm, leaving only the sun peeking over its walls. The walls spread around her, forming a ring. Nineteen towers formed among the walls and her point of view was flung through its entrance. There were no men inside, but she was bombarded by information. Words, names, dates... they went by too quickly to read them all, but those that she could held little meaning. With that, the vision stopped with the snapping sound of a closing book.

Melisandre had come to recognize his patterns by now, so she was quick to determine what her latest flash of memories meant. She had recognized it as Castle Black, one of the 19 ancient castles that had been built along The Wall. Somewhere within its libraries, there were secrets she would need in the near future. With a soft smile and a nod, she started her journey.

The castle was ancient and poorly maintained. The Night's Watch, Melisandre recalled, was a mockery of what it once was. An alternative to prison where rapists and thieves went to work off their crimes rather than protect the ancient structure. Getting by them was simple enough for Melisandre as she forced open the door to Castle Black. The place was falling apart, but there was nothing to stop the mystical priestess. In all her time practicing her arts as a Red Priestess, she had more than enough tricks to get past them. She didn't need to worry about food or drink, and when the darkness swallowed her up in the deeper parts, she could simple conjure fire to her hands to let her see.

She had spent a long time in the underground library, finding records that seemed as old as the written word itself. She had spent months poring over all the books and scrolls, taking dreadful note as she felt a disturbance in the air. At first it felt as if everything in the world had just grown a tiny bit colder. Before Melisandre could fully acknowledge it, she felt a pain run through her chest as if momentarily poisoned. She collapsed against her table, seeing an even more powerful vision than normal.

There was an old cave littered with the bodies of Starks and their wolves, both ancient and fresh. Grim, gray clouds raced across the sky as if they were chasing something. Dead men forced their way out of frost-covered graves. Her vision lead her through a castle, ruined by some merciless battle. Just as she seemed to reach as deep inside as the hall would go, something massive and impossibly powerful turned and set its terrible gaze on her.

She woke up from her vision with a start. She briefly felt cold, which was something she hadn't felt since the full embrace of her Lord. She wiped some blood from her nose, seeing that it didn't make contact with any of the documents. The Great Other was awake, which just made her work that much more important.

It was in an ancient journal where she found what seemed to be the key. There was the ancient hero Azor Ahai. The Westorosi had called him Bran the Builder, who had designed and created many tools and structures meant to repel the Great Other. He had been the chosen one of R’hllor, the Lord of Light who spoke to man through fire, and wielded his might in his crusade against the dark invader. Melisandre followed the logs to track his bloodline and other notable figures throughout the history of Azor Ahai's creations. He had not been the only one to contain the power of R’hllor's fire, but he was the only one to wield it so potently. Pure Valyrian blood was the only thing that could bring out such a force, something that even her centuries of knowledge knew simply did not exist.

"So much for that option," Melisandre noted as she closed her latest tome. She returned to a rack of scrolls, considering seeing in Bran had created some weapon that would do the job instead. She tucked the book back in its approximate spot and turned to focus on the fire she held in her hand. She checked on it regularly, seeking and further guidance from her cryptic god, but she needed more information on this newest revelation. It so happened that the flames came bearing news.

Melisandre saw the new Lord Captain of Castle Black had just been murdered. She saw his body surrounded by traitors; men in the same uniformed armor that glared down at Jon Snow’s corpse. He was laid on a slab in the upper levels of the castle, being watched over until they arranged the proper way to dispose of the body. It had to be just so, given their location, or else they risked their dead rising as more white walkers. The vision showed herself in the room with Snow, standing over him while flames roared around him without burning the room. She felt the message was clear: the fire was his life force, and she would need to be there to revive the fallen leader.

It was child's play for her to enter Castle Black. The traitors had all been executed and the guards mourned the loss of their commander, so their attention was turned inward as much as out. She slipped inside easily enough, and when she found the acting commander, she slid a bit of her comforting magic into him to make him collapse in a deep sleep. She dragged him into an unused room at the far end of one of the halls, shutting the door tight before she changed her shape once again to look just like him.

They had Snow's body locked away in a room until they could arrange a burial. The guards watching over him were puzzled, but they certainly didn't object when the current Lord Commander asked to see the body alone. They didn't want to sound disobedient when there were still men in the cells from a mutiny. They were left to watch the door from the outside and that under no circumstances should they interrupt "him."

With the doors locked behind her, Melisandre dropped her disguise and returned to her more familiar shape. She looked over the dead body of the deposed commander. Reviving the dead was almost simple to her at this point: she simply had to gather Snow's fire and guide it back to its proper place inside him. Even if it had left him completely, she could always provide him with some of her own abundant flame. That was the strange part, though... the fire was still there. It wasn't fading or slipping away, but rather it was raging beneath his skin like a storm. It held strong against her manipulations, and she had never seen anyone with so much and so strong a fire.

Melisandre looked Jon over with concern. It had to mean that someone else was controlling the fire, keeping it busy with something else. No casual probing of her powers would do. Melisandre pulled up a seat for herself, sitting in front of Jon before her body went limp. If she couldn't see from the outside, she would look closer inside of his body.

To anyone who may have been watching, Jon's body would give a sharp twitch and nothing more. Inside, Melisandre's spirit was mingling with his, probing through what could control so much of his ethereal fire and for what purpose. It didn't take her long to follow the source of the turmoil. While it was nearly impossible for her to explain to the less gifted, Melisandre felt it like a great battle between fire and ice.

These things were never perfectly clear to the senses, but Melisandre's mind had a way of filtering the intense forces through her other senses. A nude woman advanced while shedding fog and frost in her wake. She let out a fearless war cry as she struck her foe, causing a burst of chilling wind to rush across their featureless gray battlefield that flickered with its surrounding clouds of flame. Melisandre opened her senses and felt an intense sensation of rage and power from it. She gathered the name of Myranda, and with such an intense force that could even push past the Wall, there was most mistaking that she  was a host and a part of the Great Other. The White Walkers were trying to claim him as one of their own.

Blocking the freezing blow was a woman with dark red hair (compared to the brighter shades of Melisandre's). Embers and wisps of flame followed her blows and steps, blurring the air behind her with the heat emanating off of her body. She deflected Myranda's blow and smashed a fist of her own across the wintery woman's face, spewing sparks and a wave of heat like that from a sudden bonfire.

Melisandre opened her senses to her and felt a clear sense of both death and mourning from the blazing woman. The form was that of Ygritte, a dead love of Jon Snow. His love had been so powerful that he had taken a part of her fire into his, and it was holding onto him with a fairly literal deathgrip. She was keeping his fire where it was and wielding it to fend off the incoming cold of the White Walkers. "Ygritte's" presence was preventing Jon from rising, whether back to life or as one of the twisted undead.

Melisandre's real enemy here was obvious. As Myranda raised her hand for another freezing swing, the priestess cast out a hand and summoned a burst of fire by her hand. The surprising explosion made Myranda recoil, allowing Ygritte to press her attack. She delivered several blows  that struck like hammers at the icy avatar’s ribs, each blow sizzling and steaming against the contrasting cold. Ygritte brought one hand back and summoned a short but solid burst of flame, holding it like a dagger before she drove it into Myranda’s side. The manifestation of the White Walkers jerked back as the attack left a gaping and burning wound in her side. The flesh crackled like thinning ice as it started to heal over, drawing on the mystic forces that had brought it here in the first place. She didn’t have the time to fully heal before Melisandre grabbed her from behind, pinning her arms to her sides with a bearhug. While her deceptively youthful body was fairly strong, the spiritual realm had her even stronger. Enough that she could pin down this minor extension of the Great Other long enough for Ygritte to finish the job.

The blows that came to Myranda’s face gave off heat like opened furnace doors, even to Melisandre who was simply standing nearby. The wintery foe’s head snapped back and forth, visibly growing weak and dizzied from her beating. Melisandre released one of her arms to grab the back of her hair, briefly lifting and them smashing her face down into what passed for the ground here. Myranda gave a short grunt as her head bounced off the solid barrier, crumbling motionless to the ground. It was hard to tell if the entity was truly dead or gone, but it was certainly defeated at the moment.

“My thanks,” the fire in Ygritte’s shape said as she gathered her breath. Flickering flames danced around her skin, something that Melisandre saw as her starting to regenerate. She was drawing on something as well. Melisandre opened her senses to probe in deeper. A piece of the outsider had stayed within Jon, some echo of his love for her and a dash of her essence that was feeding off of the fire around them.

“It was nothing,” Melisandre excused as she turned in a slow circle. She looked at the flame that  danced through the air. There was never this much within one person. Most had a few smaller, simple wisps of flame. A small bonfire, perhaps, and that’s only if they were still properly alive. For him to be dying and still have such an inferno within him could only mean one thing. There was Valyrian blood within Jon Snow. It was far from pure, but it was certainly something special.

It wasn’t anything like Azor Ahai’s. It wasn’t enough to stand against the Great Other. Not on its own. However, there was an old technique discussed in a scroll she had studied when she was still young. It theorized the use of one bloodline to purify another. Drawing the power from one could strengthen another, and if done enough times she would be able to turn a faint bloodline into a more potent one.

“What are you doing here?” Ygritte asked. She noticed the distant and thoughtful expression on Melisandre face, and with the fight done with, she realized that she hadn’t been here before.

“I have good reason to follow this man’s condition,” Melisandre said dismissively. “And now I think I see why. I’m sorry, but you’re about to be used for something much more important than one man’s life.” The apology was a token gesture, really. Melisandre’s god had sent her here, and she would see his bidding done. She held out her hands and focused on the fire around them, draining it into her fingertips.

“What? You can’t do that!” Ygritte started to storm towards her, raising her hand to conjure more of the fire for herself… but nothing happened. Melisandre smirked at her and closed a fist, sealing the flame she’d taken so far within her. “What did you do, witch?” the spiritual Ygritte demanded.

“I’m just making sure this flame goes where it belongs,” she deflected once again. Once the icy foe was taken care of, she didn’t want it getting back up in full force. She had set up a barrier to block both of the other creatures from gaining any further power from the outside. It was just her and them now, and as she’d shown before, she could certainly defeat a PART of a divine power.

Ygritte glared between Melisandre and Jon’s flame before giving a sharp wave of her hand. Melisandre felt a similar pressure around them, seeing what looked like a translucent bubble seal around the inhabitant of Jon’s fire. “You’re not the only one with power here, you thief,” Ygritte hissed, glaring hatefully at the intruding priestess. “And I will not let you rob my love of what life he has left!”

Melisandre flexed her fingers, seeing that she was right. The barrier kept her from draining any further fire. It was only what little she took from Jon and her own. “It’s true,” the priestess noted. “But not for long.” She turned and performed the spiritual equivalent of a cunt punt on Ygritte, getting the huntress’ spirit to grunt and fall to her knees. They were spirits, after all, and there wasn’t even clothing to protect them, let alone armor. Ygritte spat out a raspy curse as Melisandre readied a blow to the interloper’s head. Ygritte lunged forward and grabbed the priestess by the leg, but rather than tripping her opponent she bit into her leg. Melisandre gave a loud scream as what was effectively her soul being torn apart, if on a very small scale. Ygritte tore her head away, but kept her teeth clenched so that she ripped off a chunk of the intruder’s thigh.

Melisandre shuddered as she felt a number of things. The pain, of course, was intense. She also felt a brief flicker of power between them. Of course, if she could draw from fire, so could a native to this realm like Ygritte. Melisandre’s power was its own sort of fire, leaving them both capable of ripping it from each other if they were brutal enough about it. Melisandre drew on the finite power she had, focusing it on the wounded area. Her spiritual “flesh” rejoined, healing over the spot to maintain her strength. It wouldn’t last forever, but they could effectively do whatever they wished to each other in the spirit realm and grow back from it… so long as they had that precious life force to draw on.

Ygritte gnashed her teeth like a feral grin as the piece of Melisandre vanished into wisps of flame. Much of its drifted into the air around them and vanished from existence, but she saw some of it go into Ygritte herself. The priestess saw the echo of a woman's aura flare up a small amount with the stolen piece of her power she'd absorbed. If she couldn't draw on the energies outside the bubble, she'd take it from the one inside.

Melisandre's eyes glowed with a flash of fire as she lunged at Ygritte. The fire priestess' hands went to claw at the wildlings face, but she caught the incoming hands to stop short. To Ygritte's surprise, Melisandre's palms began to glow. She grabbed either side of the wild woman's head with them, her fingers burning like hot irons against Ygritte's skin.

Ygritte released a wordless howl of agony as her flesh smoked and bubbled. The same fire she'd tried to absorb now felt like it burned its way into her brain, leaving branded fingerprints on her flesh where Melisandre touched. The priestress' burning hands held on as if she meant to melt the flesh from her skull, bringing Ygritte too her knees. The wild woman's fist clenched tightly, slowly turning into a solid sphere of metal. Flames and spikes sprouted from it to become a full fledged mace before she punched it squarely into the very edge of Melisandre's ribs. Without so much as a scrap of clothes on her spiritual embodiment, the iron spikes pierced her skin while the flames left their own ugly burn on her stomach.

Melisandre crumbled to her knees, releasing Ygritte and holding the few slowly bleeding puncture wounds. She couldn't actually bleed to death or worry about a ruptured kidney, but the pain itself was even more intense than it would have been in reality.

Ygritte shifted her hand back to its normal shape so she could grab Melisandre by her hair. She pulled the priestess' head forward while raising her knee, smashing her in the mouth with the hard joint. Melisandre gave an abrupt grunt from the impact, satisfying Ygritte enough that she repeated the maneuver again and again. Melisandre's head bounced against her knee, bruising up her face as blood and embers spilled from her nose and mouth. Every few blows, Melisandre would instinctively heal back the damage, but Ygritte's brutal efficiency was keeping her too dazed to stop her.

Melisandre finally applied the same shape shifting that Ygritte had. Her basic form had to stay the same and serve the same purpose, but it's exact shape didn't matter to this world. Her fingernails grew longer and thicker until she lashed out, digging her strengthened nails into Ygritte's side and squeezing.

The wildling screamed at the invasive pain and released Melisandre's hair. She instinctively tried to pull away, but the other redhead lunged at her again. She grabbed Ygritte by the hair while she tackled her to the ground (or the invisible wall that passed for it in this realm), both women swinging and clawing wildly at each other's chests and faces. Melisandre finally got a firm grip on Ygritte's scalp and pinned her head to the ground. The other hand grabbed the dead woman by the throat and not only squeezed, but pulled.

Ygritte gasped despite her missing a handful of her throat, glaring up at Melisandre like a possessed corpse. No blood came from the gaping wound, but embers trailed out of it like a stirred campfire. While the agony was clear on Ygritte's face as the hunk of flesh withered into ash and smoke, but the wildling still punched Melisandre squarely in her breastbone. She grunted and moved to defend herself, just for Ygritte to strike her again across the face. Melisandre gave a startled cry as she backed away clutching her face, the haunting woman's knuckles burning at her eyes like they were made of coals.

As the priestess recoiled, Ygritte crawled back up to all fours. Her breathing came out wet and raspy as her neck began to regenerate, but she glared at Melisandre with no less hatred than before. "I will kill you," she growled menacingly. "And I will do it as many times as I have to to save him."

Melisandre finished rubbing her eyes and rose to her feet. "What do you know of what's going on? Even if you had the gifts I do, you've been stuck inside a corpse." Melisandre gave a grim and derisive grin. "You are fighting for the memory of a dead man while I am saving the souls of thousands."

Ygritte's expression remained unchanged. The occasional tongue of flame sprouted off her hair or skin. "I am fighting for the only one that matters. If you're so blind from cowering behind your kings and armies, then you're as witless as the rest of your Southerners." She stared directly into Melisadre's eyes, letting her see the deeply-rooted fires that danced behind her pupils. "I... will kill you," she spelled out again firmly.

She sprinted towards Melisandre from her crouched position, grabbing her around the middle and trying to wrestle her to the ground. Melisandre fell to her knees, but she brought one shooting up into Ygritte's stomach. She grunted and fell back, just for Melisandre to summon flaming stone around her fist and smash her in the jaw. Ygritte fell to the unseen ground, reeling from the powerful blow as Melisandre stormed after her, the cooling rock crumbling from her fist. The body would want to return to its natural state before too long, and such powers vanished quickly without enough focus. She reached out to tear another piece off of Ygritte, but she rolled over to face her and screamed a defiant battle cry. Her rage poured from her open mouth, and with it a solid stream of fire like dragon's breath. It consumed Melisandre's right arm, completely burning it off of her astral form. Melisandre screamed in agony as she felt every flake of her carefully recreated skin blow away with the incoming flame, leaving her with nothing but a deformed and bloodless stump that ended halfway to her elbow.

Ygritte gladly pressed her attack, rushing in and punching Melisandre in the stomach. She let her fist linger against her belly, her fist's temperative rising until it started to scald her skin. She wound up and hit her again with the searing punch, her free hand holding Melisandre at bay with her one good arm. The priestess screamed and twitched, not wanting to expend so much of her fire this early into the fight reclaiming her arm. It was hard enough just to focus on the battle as it was, let alone regrow the limb while she was doing it.

"Try to cower behind your god now, you meddling cunt," Ygritte snarled, but Melisandre only replied by leaning into her attacker and biting into her shoulder. She sealed her lips around the bite and sucked on it, drawing out a soothing warmth as her lifeblood rather than the literal sort.

Ygritte screamed and tried to shove her away, but Melisandre grabbed her with her remaining arm and buried her fingers into her side. The wild woman shuddered almost orgasmically from the pain, but she grabbed Melisandre by her wounded arm and scraped her claws along the burned stump she'd left behind. The priestess shrieked and fell to the ground holding her throbbing wound. Ygritte mounted the downed woman and starting to pummel her face with the heartless brutality of a woman protecting her loved one.

Melisandre raised her arms in a feeble and instinctive guard, but she couldn't stop them all. Ygritte clenched her fist, a flare of fire appearing in her grasp like a dagger before she plunged it into the dazed Melisandre's shoulder. The pinned priestess screamed in agony as it coursed through her body, the painful heat overpowering her natural sense of the fire.

Melisandre was trapped, but not powerless. She spread her fingers out and grabbed Ygritte by her privates, squeezing and digging in her claws before summoning her own ball of flame right within the walls of her vagina. Ygritte gave her own screech of pain to mirror Melisandre's as she leapt off of her, rubbing her crotch as the skin began to sizzle and boil. She pulled back enough for Melisandre to kick her in the chest, launching her back as they both laid still, breathing heavily as they focused on their energies and started to reform their bodies. They had worn themselves out with their vicious struggles, taking the moment to regroup with what they had and start again as best they could.

It was then that they felt the tingling of cold air against their skin. It would have been a welcome feeling in the physical world after all the heat and fire being thrown around, but this chill reached the bone and the soul. They had barely started to rise when they looked up to see Myranda doing the same. The freezing power had been resting, storing its own power until a more opportune moment arose for it to strike. It had been trapped within the bubble as well, but it wasn't powerless. Melisandre had only a loose grasp on such things, but it seemed to be on the same level as either of the fiery spirits.

"I think you two look just about ripe," Myranda said with a twisted grin. "Best to harvest you now. Winter is coming, after all."

"You again," Ygritte spat, her eyes darting swiftly from one woman to the other. "Fine. I'll kill you both myself. What's one more for Jon's sake?"

Melisandre frowned and shook her head. “I have my holy mission. You will not slow me from reaching my goal, let alone stop me!”

The echoes of women didn't bother to size each other up. They all ran towards the spot directly between the three of them, swinging and slashing at whatever they could. They all took a few frantic blows before Melisandre send a flame-coated punch into Myranda's throat. Melisandre gasped and called a thick shard of ice to her hand with a flourish. Melisandre screamed as the chunk was staked right below where her ribs would be, faltering and nearly falling over. Its cold dug deeper than the weapon itself, stifling the fire within.

What little hope she had for a rescue was quickly lost when rather than attack the distracted Myranda, Ygritte shoved her own fiery dagger into Melisandre's other side. She howled as the contrasting forces attacked her front either side, letting her drop to the ground while the original combatants went at each other once again. Ygritte kicked into the icy invader's knee, popping the joint to bend in the opposite direction and fall to one side. The wildling screamed furiously as she pounced on Myranda, pounding her in the face while the sharp popping sound cued Myranda mystically fixing her knee. Myranda herself was not especially magical, but being host to one of the oldest things in existence gave her plenty of understanding and absorbed experience. She was only a portion of its endless collective of a mind, but she added her own touch of sadism to the already dangerous pot.

Myranda reared back an arm and struck Ygritte in the face as well, but her hand had been shaped into a viciously curved scythe. Ygritte screamed as she remained alive, but her astral form still felt the amplified pain of the blade gouging straight into her forehead. The leaking embers spilled from her as Myranda swept the arm to one side, throwing the haunting wildling aside. Ygritte rubbed her face along with the crackling sound of her flesh mending, letting it move like burning paper in reverse. The elemental enemies charged for each other in blind hatred and fury, but they had barely gotten a hold of each other when Melisandre rose again. She had removed the blades from her sides, burying the weapons of fire and ice into their opposites’ backs.

The both stumbled and clutched at their freshest wounds while Melisandre targeted Myranda. She grabbed her by the breasts, holding her steady as she threw a knee into the ice spectre's crotch. Myranda groaned from the mind-numbing pain, trying to cross her legs but Melisandre's attacks kept coming. She pounded her twat like a reversed jackhammer before she swiftly tore her hands in opposite directions. A thick and cold burst of fog came from Myranda's chest instead of gore, but she still screamed in agony as Melisandre held her disembodied tits in her hands. She threw them aside, letting the frosty breasts melt and then vaporize amidst the intense heat. Myranda could only fall to her knees while clutching her ruined chest.

She was still curled up in her painful crouch when both of her opponents tore into her. Ygritte had melted the ice shard buried in her back, standing up to kick her repeatedly in the face. Melisandre had meanwhile turned her hand into a steel hammer that glowed like it was fresh from the forge, smashing it across Myranda's face with a brutal clang. They both pounded on Myranda, distorting her features in a bizarre fashion. There weren't any actual bones to break, but her face was bent or pushed around by the crushing strikes until she was swollen and warped enough to barely resemble her original self. She was barely able to see with her damaged head by the time that Melisandre turned and smashed her hammer fist across Ygritte's jaw. The fiery wildling went staggering back as Melisandre grabbed her by the back of her neck. She flexed two of her fingers together, forming a short dagger-like blade out of them and jabbing it into Ygritte's eye.

Fire poured from the wound, but Melisandre kept pressing her bladed fingers in and twisting them around. Unlike most people, she had conquered any natural caution around fire. She rooted around with the spike in what would have killed any mortal body, but instead fed Melisandre as she drained the power from Ygritte to add to her own. The wildling screamed and pulled at her arm, but the pain distracted her from forming any notable defense or weapons of her own.

Her screaming did manage to give away their position to Myranda. She had focused her life force to heal most of her injuries, leaving a few welts and bruises on her face when she picked up on the sounds of her enemies fighting. She grabbed Melisandre by the leg, and while the priestess felt the enriching warmth pouring over her fingertips, there was a deathly chill that ran up her body. The avatar of the Great Other froze her leg to the ground, the flesh frozen solid and caked in ice. The cold pierced her very being, and the strange agony of her flash-frozen limb send needling pain through her entire essence.

Melisandre halted her attack on Ygritte, trying to thaw out her leg before it crippled her too severely in the fight. She didn't have the chance when the wildling spirit proved herself to be very adaptable even in death. She mimiced Melisandre's earlier move and blew a broad spray of fire into the priestess' face. It was her turn to howl in pain as her hair and skin crackled and burned, clutching her face that surged with agony.

Ygritte followed up on her attack with no mercy, regenerating her eye while hammering away on Melisandre's face and body. The priestess couldn't heal fast enough to prevent all the damage from her fists alone, and that was while she tried to stay balanced with one frozen leg. That was unfortunately resolved when Myranda kicked hard into the frosted limb and shattered it into shards of frozen gore.

Melisandre fell and screamed as she clutched at the stump. With the sealing ice gone, it was spitting out tongues of flame and cinders to show her major loss of power. Ygritte continued to pursue her and kick her in between her legs (or what was left of them). "You'll leave Jon to me! He is mine!" she shouted down at the crippled priestess. She was ready to launch another attack when Myranda rose and grabbed her from behind. She grabbed the naked wildling by the chest and squeezed. Rather than stealing her energy, the dark entity began pouring her cold into her much like she had with Melisandre's leg. It worked like a poison, not corrupting but draining her heat rapidly. It showed in a streak of black that spread over Ygritte's skin like frostbite, rapidly rotting and warping her flesh. Ygritte shuddered at first, but she engulfed her arm in flame and rammed it backward. It hit Myranda in the chest and made her stumble back, but she grabbed once more and caught Ygritte around the neck. More ice spread, this time forming a choking crystalline collar around her neck. Ygritte grunted as she started to choke, but brought her hands up to start boiling the strangling substance away.

Myranda prepared her hand to finish Ygritte by shifting it into a hook-covered mace, but a stinging pain shot up from her nethers. Melisandre had thrown herself at her, still missing her leg but with her fingernails driven deep inside the flesh of Myranda's thigh and pussy. She flexed and squeezed to drain more power from the dark entity, who even at her unnatural strength had to scream from such invasive pain.

Melisandre held on while Ygritte finally escaped her collar, coming to attack both of her enemies. The priestess opened her mouth once again, flames stirring like a furnace as she turned the power she had just stolen into a streaking beam of flame. It consumed Ygritte's lower half, destroying it in one brutally hot blast. The wildling landed with a meaty thud while Myranda started to claw and push at Melisandre's face to try to remove her from her leeching position. She left some deep scratches along her cheeks before Melisandre released a burst of strength, grabbing Myranda near her ribs and ripping her completely in half.

Even possessed by her dark hivemind, Myranda screamed in agony at the amplified feeling of her very spirit being ripped in half. She kept screaming when she hit the unseen ground, steam and cold winds pouring from her lower torso as the rest of her faded into a vanishing fog. She had no time to suffer as Melisandre crawled after her on her one good leg. She pounced onto Myranda as the two rolled across the ground, clawing and biting at what was left of each other's bodies rather than risking a healing rest. Melisandre ended up on top, burying her claws into Myranda's neck and starting to choke the life from her. The frigid woman stared at her with bulging eyes before she opened her mouth wider than she should have been able to. A blast of ice shards came out like a handful of broken glass, spraying the priestess in the face and making her recoil as the sharp edges stuck to her face.

Myranda turned the tide and shoved Melisandre onto her back. The ghoulish woman crawled on top of her, still with no flesh to show beneath her belly as she turned her fists into squared mallets of dense ice. Melisandre threw her blind slaps and punches, but Myranda's sadistic and bone-crushing blows smashed into her face and upper body.

"He will be just the first of many to join us," Myranda warned ominously in between her ruinous blows. "We will see him walk again."

"Not as one of yours!" Ygritte had only gotten a part of her legs restored, but it was enough to prop herself up on one arm. She summoned a long and narrow spear made of pure fire, hurling it straight through Myranda's back. Melisandre saw it burst out of her stomach, coming just short of hitting the priestess herself. Myranda was stunned by her impaling, eyes wide with shock and pain as the burning weapon stayed embedded inside her. Melisandre reached around it and grabbed both of her breasts, tearing them off in opposite directions with one fluid motion.

Myranda let out a piercing shriek that echoing inside their sealing bubble. A burst of arctic wind came from her chest wounds and hit Myranda in the face, but it stopped quickly and began to freeze over. The possessed woman sputtered as her body collapsed on top of Melisandre. She shoved the body off of her in disgust as it stared blankly back at her. It had no power left to fuel its consciousness; the last of it had been blown away by the spear and her missing chest. The spectral form was trying to heal itself with nothing left to do it with. It started to destroy itself, disintegrating into wisps of snow and ice that then vanished completely.

Still one opponent remained. The interfering wildling was still trapped with her, helping to maintain the bubble that kept them both held hostage. Melisandre took a deep breath, focusing on her lower body. Ygritte was mostly healed now, but she had to restore her entire lower half. Melisandre only had to handle her one leg and a few fresh injuries. Even with the power she'd stolen from her opponents, Melisandre was running herself ragged. Her powers would be limited now if she didn't want to burn herself out in a similar fashion, but she imagined that Ygritte couldn't be in a different state herself.

While they were still healing, they were close enough to be heard by one another. "You're making a foolish mistake, you know," Melisandre called to her between her labored breaths. "Jon coming back could be just what we need to stop all this. It's for the greater good."

Ygritte scoffed at that. "You didn't even know him. No one knew him like I did."

"Now you're just sounding like a selfish child," said the red priestess.

"And things like 'greater good' is what people with power say to try to manipulate the weak."

"And what about the people he would save? You'd damn them all just to haunt a dying man?"

"Jon deserved death." Ygritte said it more solemnly than one would expect. She spoke as if dying was an honor. "He was too good for us. He was a strong man, but the longer he stayed among those people on the wall, the weaker he became. Just because of his 'honor' and 'duty." She said the last words like she was spitting out something foul-tasting. "He owed them nothing, but gave them everything. I won't let him make that mistake again. Let him rest. We may not live, but here, we can have peace."

Melisandre watched her coldly as their lower bodies began to finish taking shape. Ygritte looked up at Jon's fire as if she saw her old lover's face in them. "The living need Jon Snow," the priestess said simply. "As a leader and for the fire he brings."

"Then you'll have him die to save tyrants and traitors," Ygritte sneered. "I won't let you ruin him again!"

“Then you’ll just have to stop me, now won’t you?” Melisandre said rather flippantly.

They were a fair distance away, but Ygritte rose slightly sooner and charged in right away. A roaring fire consumed her body as she moved in, making Melisandre immediately recoil and dodge out of the way. Ygritte's burning punch missed her, but she could feel the heat singing the closest hairs on her head. Ygritte turned around and whipped a backhand at her foe, and while Melisandre could dodge the hand the fire still raked across her skin. She cringed and continued to retreat, Ygritte always too close for comfort. The foreign flame left her sweating, slowly exhausting the priestess who couldn't even get close enough to fight back.

"Coward! Don't you come here for my lover and then try to run away!" Ygritte roared furiously. She flared up her fire even higher, and Melisandre had to cringe from the wave of heat. The huntress threw a vicious punch that finally caught Melisandre in the cheek, leaving a burning brand in the crude shape of her knuckles. Melisandre staggered, just to be hit by another in the other cheek. A knee drove into her groin, making the priestess scream and clutch her scalded pussy as she fell to her knees. Ygritte threw a fierce kick into her head, burning off a chunk of hair and sending her flying across their battlefield until her body slammed into the wall of the dome.

"None will take him from me," Ygritte seethed as she advanced on her enemy. "Not even death." She was so caught up in her march that she was puzzled when she misstepped, tripping and nearly falling over halfway to her foe. Melisandre smirked back at her, running a hand across the side of her head as if fixing her hair. The hair grew back and her burn wound healed over.

"I was wondering when you would burn yourself out," she noted dryly. She didn't feel like she had the strength to manage a sword or anything so fancy, so Melisandre simply formed her fist into a large brick and used it to punch the weary Ygritte squarely in the mouth. The wildling went down hard, feeling the strength leaving her body after launching such a vicious attack. A few embers flew from her lips as she coughed, a final flicker of the fight she'd put up defending Jon. Her ethereal body simply couldn't keep up with her wants. The more experienced and patient Melisandre mounted her and continued to smash her with both hands, brick and fist beating around the wildling's face as she threw up her arms to protect herself. Even with her power fading, she threw all her weight into one more punch. The fist literally buried into the priestess' side, piercing her flesh with the superhuman force. Melisandre gasped as she was blown completely off of her, clutching her ribs and the sparking hole that remained there.

Ygritte breathed heavily nearby, eyes wide with a savage confusion at the agony she'd been through. She was mentally and spiritually exhausted. She had nothing left. She could only stare when the wounded Melisandre limped over, covering the wound she had no power left to heal. Melisandre shook her head (perhaps with pity or disgust) as she raised her foot and stomped down on her breasts. The foot spiked right through her chest, leaving a flaming hole instead of the expected gore.

Ygritte twitched, but she was too weary to truly react to the pain she felt. There was nothing left to give. Her body began to fade, breaking into bits of orange as they drifted away like embers on the wind.

"Just... let him rest," she muttered. Her eyes looked cloudy, unclear if she was reaching out to some unknown hallucination, Melisandre, or the spirit they rested in. "He owes them no more. His watch has ended." Some bright fluid ran from her eyes like lava, a final teary-eyed farewell before the last of her face vanished. For a moment, Melisandre saw the wild woman's point of view. Things were quiet within Jon's soul. The conflict and struggle she saw in most people was gone. No duties were expected of the dead, after all. It was perhaps the most restful place he could have ever been, compared to all the battles and treachery he'd been through. Of course, the priestess' mind was already made up.

Melisandre finally released the bubble, giving a sigh of relief as her strength returned to her. She was able to take her time now, draining the flame from his body. Deciding to not truly abandon her original plan, she still left him just enough to restore Jon Snow's life. When she sensed his heart beating once again, she lulled him to sleep long enough for her to return to her body. She ached in a few places, assuring herself that it was all phantom pains from her spiritual battle. She hurried out, trying to get a grasp on how much actual time had passed while she went to send warning.

It was around an hour later when the corpse of Jon snow stirred. It was a few small shifts of his body at first before she pushed himself upright. "Ygritte!" He blinked a few times, as if he were getting used to the idea of breathing and blinking again before he patted down his chest. He had apparently been loud enough that the guards at the door came barging in, staring at the dead man risen. One went to ready his sword when Jon waved a hand at him assuringly. "Steady, Ben. I'm no walker."

The fairly simple guard frowned. "That sounds like somethin' a White Walker would say..." He received an elbow in the ribs from his taller partner, making him concede the point and return his weapon to its sheathe. "So you're not dead then, commander?"

"No, Ben. I guess I just... needed some rest." Jon rubbed his face between his eyes. He was alive, but still not in the best of shape. His head was a blur with memories, and the recent wounds that had felled him still stung.

"So... what was Ygritte?" the taller guard pried.

"What?" Jon looked at him quizzically.

"You said Ygritte when you... ah... 'woke up.' Is that what brought you back?"

"I... don't remember," he muttered. He felt as if there was something missing, but that was all.

Melisandre was well on her way to the south by now. She had heard news from a passing trader that another Targaryen had just been found. She thanked him as she finished pretending to inspect his wares, continuing on her before sparking up a fresh tongue of flame in her hand. She whispered to it, sending her message back to the Red Temple of Volantis. She told them of the return of the Other and what she had gathered of The Builder's bloodlines. There was much to be done.

Jane vs Vera: Footfall

A wrestler at a video company finds her match in a new sadistic fighter! Sorry for the lack of updates here, but commissions have been a lot of long or private stories

Jane was a woman of many faces. She was a PE teacher, and keeping up with the kids kept her in shape. It added to her 5 foot 10 as a blonde bombshell, curvy but strongly built. Despite her kid-friendly demeanor and profession, she always had her side job. She did some amateur wrestling for several different video companies, all of which adored her for her combination of strength and good looks. She had gotten another call from a local studio that claimed to have the perfect opponent for her. Jane happily agreed to the extra money, and given the kinds of opponents they'd given her in the past, she arrived with all confidence.

Jane stepped into the ring before she shed her bathrobe, posing for the cameras in her revealing bikini. She always tried to wear something appealing without being too trashy, and always green to match her eyes. Her hair was tied back into a short ponytail, kept safely out of her way while strong arms and long legs went to work.

She had to say, she was impressed with the studio's find. Vera was a slightly younger woman with black skin and a tiger print bikini beneath her robe. She had a similar build to Jane: sexy while still clearly athletic. Vera smiled at the camera as she entered the ring, flexing some solid arms for them as she got ready in her corner. She was clearly enjoying herself just from being there. While Jane wasn’t especially intimidated, she did set aside any thoughts of taking it easy in this match.

The cameraman did some quick introductions with some made up stats before the cheap bell was rung. Jane came out cautiously, never one to rush through her matches to begin with. Vera circled as she moved in on her, ultimately forcing Jane to move in and meet her head on. The women grabbed and grunted as they vied for leverage, but the blonde was the first to get the upper hand. Jane caught her leg behind Vera's and forced the black girl to fall over backward, climbing quickly onto Vera's stomach and grabbing her wrists. Vera's athletic arms flexed and shoved as she struggled against Jane, but the blonde teacher noted proudly that she couldn't overpower her that easily.

That did, however, distract Jane from her opponent's legs. Vera's long dark legs swung upward and hooked her ankles under Jane's arms, slamming her down to the mats with a quick body scissor. Jane grabbed at the muscular legs but Vera was already squeezing them around the white woman's ribs. Jane let out a surprised shout of pain as she arched her back, trying to bend out of the crushing hold. Vera watched her with a wide grin on her face, bracing her arms on the mat and raising her hips to clamp the hold on tighter.

"I'm not going down that easy, girl," Vera taunted the struggling Jane. "Not sure I can say the same for you, though!"

Jane grunted and grit her teeth, finally getting a solid grip on one of Vera's feet. She forced the scissor apart long enough to roll out of it, starting to catch her breath as she crawled away on all fours. Jane didn't have the time to regroup since Vera proved to be relentless. She wasted no time in catching up with the regrouping blonde, grabbing her by the hair and forcing her head between the ropes.

"Wait! No, no!" Jane started to object,  but she too busy recovering from the body scissors to stop the black girl's offensive. Vera grabbed Jane by the wrists and pulled her arms back, bracing her big foot into the middle of the white girl's spine. With a yank and a stomp of her foot, Jane was left screaming in pain as her arms felt like they were being yanked out of their sockets. Vera started to grind her heel against her back, adding to the pain that tore through the teacher's body. Cutting in through Jane's pained and panicked screams, Vera started to laugh. She clearly not only knew what she was doing, but she enjoyed her work.

"What's the matter? I heard you were the big shot around this company? Is your weak ass the best you've really got?" Vera taunted Jane mercilessly for the camera before she stomped down on Jane's back once more. This time she hit it especially hard, releasing the blonde's arms so that her neck landed right across the bottom rope. The sudden impact to her throat made Jane recoil and start to gag as she clutched her throat, coughing wetly in her attempts to breathe. Jane managed to scramble towards the other side of the ring, still choking but at least out of the sadistic Vera's reach long enough to recover a little.

Vera played to the camera, posing and giving an inviting  “bring it on” gesture at the huffing Jane. The blonde pushed herself back up with the help of the ropes, taking her time in trying to keep the match at her own pace. Vera didn’t seem to care for that, so she came after Jane before she was completely up to speed. She grabbed a handful of yellow hair that made the teacher scream, but she held onto the ropes to keep from being dragged away.

“Come on, bitch. Quit hiding!” Vera demanded as she shook her opponent around by the hair. Jane’s voice cried out, warped by the doppler effect of her shaking, but she timed a kick stomp into Vera’s shin that sent the vicious black girl off her feet. She landed on her knees, clearly surprised by the low kick since she lost her grip on Jane and didn’t attempt to fight back right away. Jane kept her grip on the ropes and used it for extra leverage as she kicked her attacker right in her breast, landing her flat on her back with a loud SLAM.

Vera winced as she rubbed her chest, but Jane finally let go of the ropes and delivered several stomps to her toned belly. She had seen what the black wrestler could do when she was in control, and she hoped to avoid going through that again. Once Vera seemed properly tenderized, Jane took her by one of her arms and dropped to the mats, bending the captive limb between her knees and drawing a quick curse of pain from the darker fighter’s lips. Jane locked the submission on tight, working her elbow against her leg muscles and forcing Vera to stomp on the mat in pain and frustration.

Jane had just started to gain some of her confidence back when she eased up on the pressure for a moment. It was all Vera needed to adjust her arm and drive her elbow down into Jane’s pussy. The veteran teacher gave a sudden shout as the pain ran through her groin and into her belly. Jane instantly curled up in a fetal position, the camera getting a great shot of her agonized expression as she went rolling on the mats.

Vera had no trouble escaping Janes clutches now that the blonde was suddenly and intensely weakened by her cheap shot. She stood back up while grabbing Jane’s long and sexy legs, lifting them almost straight up into the air. Vera put on her wolfish grin again as she ran her short but hard nails across the blonde’s soles. Her legs tensed and twitched from the pain that now came through her sensitive soles. Between the low blow and the clawing of her feet, her entire lower body seemed to fill with agony.

"Is that the best you've got, bitch? Because it's not enough," Vera shouted down at her. She braced her hands on Jane's ankles and dropped to her knees, pushing Jane's legs far apart in opposite directions. The PE teacher let out a sharp, fresh scream as her legs were stretched out like a wishbone. Jane's mouth was frozen in a look of pain as she rolled onto her side, her hands going to the aching muscles in her thighs.

"What's wrong? I would have thought you'd be used to spreading them like that!" Vera taunted as she circled the downed Jane like a shark. She grabbed the blonde by her hair and forced her back to her feet. Jane stumbled up like she wanted, shoving and slapping at her attacker's arms but unable to break the grip on her hair. Vera used it to throw the aching blonde into the corner, letting her back slam into the hard pads of the ringpost. Jane instinctively grabbed the top ropes for balance, propping herself up rather than leave herself even more vulnerable to Vera's sadistic attacks.

The black woman licked her lips as she approached and smashed her fist into Jane's tight belly. Jane's parted lips sprayed some flecks of spit over her opponent as the air was knocked out of her lungs. She was still coughing and recovering from the first one when Vera hit her with another power blow to her tormented stomach. Jane let out another miserable moan as she tried to cover up her stomach, but Vera simply grabbed her wrists and pinned them against the ropes once again.

So long as her hands were busy, Vera brought her powerful legs to bear on Jane instead. Vera drove a hard knee into the same spot that her fists had been working over, sending more pain coursing through Jane's midsection. She gagged and grunted as Vera bashed her with more knees like a jackhammer, giving the blonde woman no space to move or breathe as she trapped her in her corner beatdown. Jane was a dozen blows in when she wasn't even able to resist anymore. She didn't have the strength to keep thrashing and kicking, leaving her as breathless and limp as a ragdoll with nothing to hold her up by Vera's grip.

"Hey, come on. Don't give up yet, champ," Vera sarcastically encouraged her. She patted Jane on the cheek before slapping her harshly with the same hand, sending Jane crumbling to the mats. The once-confident teacher was wheezing for air, her hair a mess and her bikini clinging to her sweaty skin. She grabbed onto the lower ropes but could only pull herself up into a sitting position when Vera continued her torturous assault. The tiger-print wrestler stomped her foot onto Jane's throat, pushing her back into the ropes while all the strength and weight of her body went into choking the helpless blonde. Jane gagged as the sole pushed across her neck, trapping and strangling her as she grabbed uselessly at Vera's leg.

"Look at you!" Vera laughed with wicked glee. "You can't even breathe! How did you think you were going to beat me with moves like this?" She shifted her weight for another angle on her choke while flexing her arms for the camera. “Just as well… you look pretty when you’re suffering.”

Jane wasn't done yet, and this wasn't her first time in the ring. While Vera was changing her position and showing off of the camera, the trapped blonde grabbed the offending leg and threw it aside. With Vera off balance, Jane sprang to her feet without bothering to catch her breath. She blitzed Vera with a clothesline that brought them both tumbling back to the mat, though this time Jane was on top.

"Keep your eye on the prize, new girl," Jane growled. She leaned an arm over Vera's throat in an attempt to choke her out, but Vera raised one of her strong legs in between them and kicked upward. It didn't do much damage, but the black wrestler shifted so that Jane was flung over her head and landed on the mats. Vera didn't bother getting back up before she grabbed Jane in a headlock, sitting up and dragging her with her.

"Nice try, my little punching bag," Vera hissed in her ear. Jane's face went red from the pressure of the hold. She pulled on Vera's arms with no success, kicking and stomping her feet on the mats. "Mmmm, I love how those legs squirm when you're in trouble... and how those little curl when I squeeze you too hard." Vera flexed her bicep, digging it into Jane's neck to make her gag and in fact, curl her toes.

"Let's see what else I can make you do!" Vera raised one of her hands to raked her nails down Jane's forehead. The captive white woman screamed in pain as she slowly dragged the hard talons across the tender skin, making her kick and squirm even harder than before. The agony was blinding as her eyes watered and her mouth was stuck open with panicked screeches of pain.

"Damn, you really hit those high notes!" Vera laughed in between Jane's raspy howls. "You really ARE sexy when you're hurting, huh? No wonder the fans like you." The dominant wrestler pulled Jane in closer, holding her bodily against her front. Jane's head was swimming from having too little air and too much pain, but she distinctly felt two points poking against her back. She squirmed to get away from them, but then she just felt something warm and wet against her hips.

Vera wasn't kidding! The woman was an actual sadist! Jane's eyes went wide as Vera held her steady and started to grind her pussy against her ass, literally getting off on Jane's suffering. She tried to choke out an objection to the ref/cameraman, but it was hard enough just to keep breathing through the intense hold.

"Aww, but we can't bore your precious fans, now can we?" Vera cupped Jane's chin and squeezed her cheeks, giving her a humiliatiingly squashed look on her puckered lips. "Let's change things up a little. How's that, my poor little loser?"

Vera stood up and roughly threw Jane onto her stomach. Jane coughed for air once again, sweaty and beaten and utterly exhausted. She hadn't lost a fight in this ring before, but now she was being torn apart by this sick woman! She tried to crawl out of the ring to at least spare herself the pain, clear her head enough for a comeback, but Vera wouldn't let go of her new toy for a second.

Jane was quickly stopped when she realized that Vera had taken hold of her foot. She looked behind her, something that Vera was apparently waiting for. She held Jane's leg up high, grinning before she opened her mouth wide and bit into her toes.

"AUGHHHH! NO! FUCKING STOP! STOP HER! SHE'S BITING ME!" Jane pleaded to the cameraman, grabbing at the ropes to try to get away. Vera was locked on tight, her teeth digging into her three biggest toes and growling like a dog to send unsettling vibrations through the digits. While the camera got a fine shot of Jane's pained and panicked expression for the fans, no help seemed to be coming. Jane yanked on her foot, ripping Jane off the ropes and letting her land flat on her tits.

With the wind knocked out of her once more, Vera released the foot from her jaws as she sat on the white girl's back. With Jane's big pretty foot in hand, Vera looked at the camera as she ran her tongue over the sensitive sole and then pulled back hard on the leg. It started as a boston crab, but she stepped up the game a second later as she grabbed and twisted Jane's toe like a radio dial. Jane screeched at the top of her lungs, sobbing in pain as the delicate digit was put through hell by Vera.

"STOP! MAKE HER STOP! OH MY GOD, NOOOO!" Jane howled, beating her fists helplessly on the mats as she looked ready to cry from the mind-numbing agony. The proud "champ" of previous matches was clearly nowhere to be found as she screamed for mercy. Vera clearly enjoyed every second of it, rocking back and forth to keep working the toe hold and send a pleasant tingling up through her groin as it rubbed on Jane's back and ass.

"Jane, do you give up?" their host asked for the show. Jane shook her head and mewled out a defiant "No... noooo!" She had to have a way out! She was undefeated! She never lost, and especially ever so badly!

"You heard her, boys!" Vera laughed, as if happier to hear that she wanted more than that she'd won. "Let's take this tasty little hold and make it a double. How about that?"

"What?! Nonononooo OWWWW!" Jane howled and finally broke into shameless tears as Vera grabbed her other foot and repeated the move, leaving her locked in a double toe hold. Her strong nails scraped at the skin of her feet while her fingers themselves were bending and stretching her toes like she was trying to tear them off.

"Ask her again!" Vera called merrily to the cameraman. "Cuz I can keep this up all day!"

"Jane, do you submit?"

"YES! TAP! I TAP!" Jane slapped her hand on the mats repeatedly as the standard submission of the production company. "Fuck, get her off!"

"We have a winner! The new, the beautiful Veraaaa!" the host declared. Vera seemed to milk the hold for an extra second before she shoved Jane's feet back to the mats. She stood up and laughed evilly, arms held proudly over her head. "You've got a new champ in town!" Vera gloated as she stepped on Jane's back to return to her corner. Jane groaned as she slumped against the ropes. She didn't get paid quite as much as when she won, but she didn't care. She had survived the match and she was able to go home.

"Alright, ladies, you ready for Round 2?" Jane's eyes went wide as she whipped around to face their host.

"Didn't he tell you?" Vera asked playfully. "This was supposed to be best two out of three. And I’ve got a looot more fun to have with you."

Jane was back in her changing room. She rubbed water over her face and toweled off the mix of water and sweat before resting on the bed. There was no denying it: the first round had gone terribly. She had never fought anyone as tough and dangerous as Vera, and definitely nobody NEAR that sadistic. She had asked for a longer break, taking twenty minutes instead of the usual five. She wanted to be back at her best to take on this woman, because she hadn't done nearly as much damage as she had hoped. Jane mostly found herself rubbing down her legs and feet since they had proven to be favorite targets of the vicious black woman. She needed this time to heal and regroup if she was going to take her down in round two.

What's more, she'd have to match Vera's level of aggression. She couldn't go into this match expecting a fair fight or to play around with her opponent. She'd be taking on an actual equal in the ring today. Once she finally felt prepped and psyched up, she looked in the mirror, slapped herself on the cheeks, and went back out. Vera was already in her corner of the ring, lounging against the turnbuckle and smiling at her.

"Did you get your beauty nap in, sweetie?" Vera asked a mockingly sweet tone.

"Yea, fuck you too," Jane snorted dismissively. She couldn't give herself the opportunity be afraid of this sadistic bitch or she'd be fighting an even harder uphill battle. Vera just laughed and stood up, clapping her hands readily. The camera man started up his equipment and gave them the signal to go at it once again.

This time Jane was done wrestling defensively. She came right at Vera with a vengeance and grabbed her by the hair. When the black fighter tried to grab back, Jane skillfully blocked her arm and shoved it away before slamming punches into the side of Vera's head. The once dominating wrestler shrieked and threw up her arms in a blind guard, absorbing most of the impact from the hammer blows but keeping her stuck on the defensive.

"Where's all that tough talk now, huh bitch?" Jane taunted as she muscled Vera back into her corner. The brunette was still reeling from the punches and the gym coach didn't bother playing nice this time around. She forced one of Vera's arms around the top rope and pulled on her wrist, getting her to scream as the tight rubber chord put some heavy pressure on her elbow. Vera grit her teeth and kicked Jane in the knee, dropping her to her knees on the mat. While Vera was still freeing her arm, Jane kept up her assault by spearing straight ahead and driving her shoulder into Vera’s stomach.

The black woman let out a huge grunt as she doubled over, forced to rest her breasts and arms on Jane’s. The fit blonde wrapped her arms around Vera’s  stomach and lifted her off the mats, squeezing with all the might in her slim but strong arms. It was the sadistic woman’s turn to scream and gasp as Jane put the pressure on her abdomen, crushing it in from either side. “You ready to give?” Jane demanded. “Huh? You take it as good as you dish it out, you fuckin psycho?!” When Vera didn’t answer, Jane lunged forward and slammed the center of her back into the turnbuckle without breaking the bearhug. “I said ‘do you give?’ bitch!”

Vera’s feet kicked in the air, uselessly attacking Jane’s flexing legs. Just when Jane started to flash a confident smile, Vera raised both hands and buried her painted nails into Jane’s face. The pressure on her eyes quickly got Jane to howl in pain, letting go of her captive to try to protect herself from the dirty counter attack. She pulled frantically on Vera’s arms, desperate to keep the rough brawler from taking her eyes out. She only partially succeeded as Vera raked her claws down either side of her face, getting one last scream from the white woman before she truly broke off from her attack.

“Well shit,” Vera panted as she rubbed her side. “I love it when my bitches fight back. Makes it more fun to beat your ass.”

Vera’s sneaky attack had left Jane leaning on the ropes, clutching her face as her eyes watered uncontrollably. The brunette shoved Jane back into the ropes, leaning her over them before pulling straight down on her hair. The blonde teacher screamed as it felt ready to come right out by her roots. Her back twisted and hung over the top rope, her feet occasionally leaving the mat as she squirmed. Both of them clearly left the ground when Vera put the rest of her attack into action by burying her fist into Jane’s stomach. The teacher let out a huge wet cough as the blow caught her arching stomach head on. It felt like her knuckles punched right through her belly.

“Mmm, that’s a real pretty voice you got when you’re not talking shit,” Vera praised grimly. She ran her fingers over Jane’s stomach before sending another hard shot into her guts, then another and another. Jane was unable to dodge or even double over with her painful position, leaving her to grunt and scream (depending on how much air she had a the time) while Vera pounded her stomach to mush.

“You’re starting to get a bit of a belly there, champ,” the cruel wrestler taunted. “You can thank me for that little massage later in case you burn a few pounds in this match. Kind of doubt it, unless screaming and crying make for good exercise!” Vera gave one more yank on Jane’s hair to make her lead harder into the ropes and rebound back towards the ring, landing flat on her chest with a loud grunt. The pain in her breasts and body felt far too familiar already, and she hurried to crawl on her elbows away from Vera.

The black wrestler still grabbed her by the leg, making Jane drag to a halt in the middle of the ring. “Hey, remember this move?” Vera taunted as she planted a foot on the back of Jane’s knee. She grabbed the blonde’s foot and pulled it sideways, twisting both her toes and ankle in one go. Jane broke into a shrill scream as the agony shot through her delicate toes and up through her leg. She flopped on the mats like a freshly docked fish, her hands grabbing blindly at the air in front of her for any sort of leverage. “Mmm, that’s my girl! Give me more, you pretty little bitch!” Vera leaned harder into her hold, getting louder cries from Jane while pressing her hips against her hurting leg. She ground against it, Jane feeling the wet spot of her crotch as is Vera was getting off exactly as much as she was suffering.

"What's the matter, blondie!?" Vera called back towards Jane with a smile. "I thought you were gonna fight back this time!" She finally let go, leaving the screaming teacher to grab her aching leg and curl up so that she cradled it against her stomach.

Vera seemed to let her nurse that injury, but only so she could grab Jane's other leg. "You got a real big mouth, you know that?" Vera taunted as she dragged Jane back towards the ropes. The gym teacher was too busy with her other leg to resist it much, forced to let Vera drag her skin roughly across the mats.

"No! Nooo stop! Ref!" Jane pleaded, but just like the last round, he was no help. Much of her side was a bright red color from the friction burn by the time that Vera reached the edge of the ring. She threw Jane's ankle over the bottom rope, leaving it there just long enough for the blonde to realize her next ruthless attack (but not enough to escape it).

"Oh god! No no NO! Don- AHHHHGH!" Jane arched her back and gave a raspy scream as Vera stomped down hard on her suspended leg. She tried to recoil in pain, but the black wrestler was grinding her heel down hard to keep her trapped in place. Tears started to well in Jane's eyes as Vera's foot crushed her ankle as if she was trying to reduce it to a powder. "STOP! STOP!" Jane pleaded, ranting like a mad woman as Vera targeted the vulnerable joint perfectly.

"Mmmm! That's it, girl! Hit those high notes!" Vera laughed over her opponent's pathetic sobs. "Come on now! Let's really work those pipes!" She grabbed the top rope for balance, allowing her to jump high and stomp back down on the lower half of Jane's leg. The white woman kept on howling in pain while Vera kept targeting her legs even worse than the last round.

By the time Vera stopped with her ruinous stomps, Jane found herself laying in a puddle of sweat and tears. The almost surgical attacks had left her body unwilling to even try standing back up. Jane had lived up to the tiger print on her outfit and crippled Jane as soon as she could, leaving her as easy prey for the rest of the match.

"God, you are sexy when you're suffering," Vera sighed. She smiled so wide that she might as well have fangs as far as Jane was concerned. "I bet your fans are gonna LOVE this one!" Vera knelt down by Jane's head, the blonde too weak to even drag her leg off of the rope. Vera ended up doing it for her as she wrapped an arm around Jane's neck, forcing her into a sitting position with her held in a simple chokehold. Jane could only gag and drool over her attacker's powerful arm, slapping helplessly at the tightened muscle. Vera swung her body around, forcing her to bend over in front of the camera. Everyone who saw the video would get a perfect shot down her cleavage while her tomato-red face groaned and struggled to breathe.

"There she is, boys!" Vera laughed, using her free hand to roughly slap Jane's face as if trying to wake her up from a deep sleep. "Now let's give them one more big one, huh?" Vera moved her hand behind Jane and slid it inside her bikini bottoms. Jane was too dazed from the chokehold and the pain in her lower body already so that she didn't know what was going on until Vera's painted nails squeezed her pussy hard.

Jane wailed like a baby at the invasively intimate attack, kicking and stomping her weary legs on the mat to create a sluggish, noisy rhythm. "Theeere you go! Give them a nice sexy scream! Ooh, they looove seeing you suffer. 'So long as she's screaming, I'm creaming!' That's what I always say" Vera taunted her, shouting over Jane's shrill and pathetic screams.

She didn't hold the crotch claw for long, but she didn't have to. She released it and the choke all at once, and Jane fell like a ragdoll onto the mats. Her entire body shook in uncomfortable relief, finally able to rest as her heavy breathing pumped her body up and down like a curvy life raft being inflated. Vera gave a triumphant hoot as she paraded around the ring, flexing and adjusting her bikini casually as if she had already won. The worst part was that Jane thought the same thing and wished she would just get it over with.

"Alright, boys. I think it's time you saw one of my favorites," Vera promised as she smiled for the camera. She took Jane by the ankles to drag her to the middle of the ring. Jane moaned wearily and grabbed the bottom rope, but she couldn't hold on for long. She was yanked off with one firm tug before Vera placed her on her back and stepped between her legs. While a true sadist, Jane fearfully had to admit that she knew just what she was doing. With all the attacks to her crotch, feet and legs, her entire lower body was a wreck. On top of crippling her for the match, they made for one easy target.

Jane could only moan and whimper, too short of breath for an actual protest as she recognized Vera's positioning. She folded Jane's legs around for her before sitting down sharply, forcing her into a figure four leg lock. Jane's legs were twisted around, forced into a painfully stiff angle in an awkward position. Her leg muscles were already weak and hurting, so the already effective hold turned into outright torture for the captured blonde.

Jane writhed and thrashed as if she were being electrocuted. She grabbed at the air and the mats for anything that might help her escape or at least relieve the pain, but she found nothing of the sort. "OHHHH GOD! MAKE HER STOP! STOP!!!" Jane howled amidst her wild spasms of pain.

"Yeaaa, that's the stuff!" Vera praised her as she arched her back. She leaned further back, flexing her legs and twisting Jane's legs further out of position. The blonde's long, pained groan came out louder than ever as her hips left the mats, suspended entirely by Vera's strong lower body that was entirely focused on causing her suffering. She let Jane land down on the mats again, allowing her to pant and stare wide-eyed up at the ceiling while she was at least in the minimal amount of pain. Even that was nothing she could ignore, but she slapped the mats to show she surrendered.

"Vera, Jane has tapped out!" the cameraman announced. "Do you accept?"

"Hell no!" Vera cackled. "I'm just getting started. Keep that camera rolling!" Vera smiled for what were surely countless new fans as she leaned back again, making Jane spasm and groan in mind-numbing pain all over again. Jane couldn't believe how badly it hurt. She clutched at her face as tears and sweat poured through her fingertips. "Noooo! No, ref! She breaking my leg! Make her stop!"

Just when she thought Vera was going to keep going until she truly crippled the blonde, Jane felt a slight release in the pressure. When she was in so much suffering, even that slight change felt gave her a wave of relief. She felt some of the feeling return to her legs, even if it was mixed with a sore numbness at the best of spots. Her tender and stinging toes felt something smooth push against them, and some instinctive wriggling of them made Jane's eyes go wide open in horror. Vera had repositioned her hold, leaving Jane stuck as usual but forcing the white woman's foot to rub against her pussy.

"I hope you like this hold," Vera said, though it was unclear if she was talking to Jane or the audience. Or both. "Because I know I will." Vera leaned back, arching her hips to push her crotch into Jane's foot. Jane tried to cringe at the indignity, but she couldn't maintain that for long before the pain overwhelmed her. Once again, Jane's frantic grunts of agony mixed with Vera's delighted moans. The black woman started to hump against her foot, an act that made her whole body bounce and thus rocking Jane in the hold along with her.

"Yea! That's it! Take it, you weak little bitch!" Vera was clearly enjoying herself on a lot of levels. She worked Jane's leg and her own crotch in equal measure, leaving the blonde to let out her shakey howls in time with each abusive and self-satisfying thrust of her hips.

Their ref/camera guy shifted around the ring, either trying to capture every angle or realizing what was going on and trying to get a better look at how badly Jane was being used. She would have been humiliated if the frequently pulses of pain weren't already consuming her brain. She was quickly reduced to arching miserably on the mats, helplessly tapping out when she could spare the mental focus.

"Hey! Don't you pass out on me!" Vera demanded, slapping at one of Jane's aching legs. "I can't finish like that. C'mere...!" She grabbed the end of Jane's free foot (the one that wasn't acting her unwilling source of pleasure) and twisted her big toe, dragging her fingernails across the blonde's tender sole all the way around. Jane broke into fresh cries, screaming herself hoarse as she bounced up and down on the mats. Her shoulders and back thumped against the mats like something between a seisure victim and child's tantrum.

"Yea! Fuck yes! That's how you do it, my little pain slut!" Vera praised Jane as if she had a skill for suffering, grinding harder until Jane couldn't ignore the wet spot growing against her foot. Jane thrust hard against her foot once more, bending Jane's legs even harder. Jane could only think to slap the mats as hard as she could while Vera shuddered from her heavy orgasm, marking Jane's foot with her lusty juices.

"Ask her again," Vera sighed rather calmly, her dark and beautiful skin shining with sweat.

"Jane, do you-?"

"YES! YES! SUBMIT!" she screamed. Just because she had finished pleasuring herself didn't mean that Vera was sloppy enough to release her leglock.

"That's it! Vera wins!" The black-haired wrestler rose up with a triumphant laugh, flexing as she posed with her foot mounted on the limp and listless Jane's face. She was unable to resist in the slightest, only groaning as the victor shoves her sweaty toes into her mouth until she gagged and rolled out of the ring. She could vaguely hear more trash talk pelted at her from Vera in the ring, but she couldn't even focus enough to make it out while she limped backstage. Jane had no idea if she would face Vera again. She could only hope not.