It has been a few weeks since Rose suffered her first defeat against Camille, and the British model continued to suffer in silence as her Spanish rival seemed to gain more and more fame and connections within the company. Rose had to live with the burden of failing to beat her rival. In her mind's eye, the scene of Camille kissing her boyfriend was vivid and mean, driven back by her self-doubt that the Spanish model had only gotten lucky.
"Luck," thought Rose. "Will it really be so?"
It was hard for her to admit; a girl used to excel at everything and everyone. In her life, she had never had any heavy thoughts and had never had to face the sadness of not feeling enough.
Camille, however, had thrown all positive thinking to the wind, twisting the British model's reality with an impetus she could not counter.
Their confrontation was a draw, but for Rose, it counted as if she had lost. She had failed to win; she had failed to do what she did best. She had failed to be herself.
The providential invitation from her longtime friends was an attempt to lift herself. Although those people were unaware of what was going on in Rose's life away from their eyes, it was as if they sensed the model's soul screaming for help.
"A little recreation will do you good," said one of her friends.
Rose forced herself to believe those words, convincing herself that she needed to think not of Camille but of herself. She needed to find inner peace and rediscover her strength. An evening of dancing, commercial music, and alcohol galore—what could go wrong?
***
It was hard for anyone not to notice her; even her friends had a hard time taking their eyes off her. Rose had sported a dress she had received as a gift from her boyfriend on a trip to France.
a short dress, the colour of the deepest night, that showed off her long, trained legs and enhanced her toned ass at the expense of her wonderful cleavage, which was more covered than usual.
Hiding her breasts was a new thing for Rose; she loved to show off how powerful and feminine her chest was, but somehow she felt safe in hiding them now that her confidence was wavering, as if she had put on armour to protect her pensive heart.
The red and white lights struggled to give a conception of space in the closed room; the hot air mixed with sweat permeated the whole area, while the music from the speakers deafened even the smallest thought.
Rose could finally go wild, laughing and dancing with her friends as she used to, and for those minutes of leisure, she forgot about any problems. It had been a long time since she had taken time for herself; her life was a continuous routine of school, gym, and agency. That was the perfect evening after so long.
People like Rose, however, cannot settle for a normal, mundane life. They are on another level, a floor above the mundane.
During a break between songs, she and her friends went to the bar. One of the guys she had arrived with was openly flirting with her friend, and the alcoholic courage of the cocktails could only benefit the situation.
Rose followed them, amused to see something so normal, yet so far removed from her reality that it gave her nostalgia. a feeling that quickly disappeared as a woman's instinct made her turn around.
Her eyes wandered slowly, peering among the drunken, sweaty people who were jumping around and moving their arms discordantly in a strange dance, until she found what alerted her senses.
On the other side of the club, a girl seemed to be searching her eyes for the British model. Rose was sure she did not know this girl; she had never seen her before, but she knew she was looking at her.
Whenever their eye contact broke because someone passed in the way or the mass of people moved too much, the two girls shifted accordingly, each returning the other's gaze.
One hand touched Rose's shoulder, causing her to turn away, startled. One of her friends, clearly drunk, had leaned against her, flashing a childlike smile.
"He asked me to go to him, Roro," she said, approaching Rose to be heard. The smell of vodka came out with every word spoken: "I'll go home with him." Wish me luck!"
The girl turned away, staggering back to the counter where the lucky guy was waiting for her. Rose had other things on her mind, however, and perhaps the boy's providential invitation to take her friend away was what she needed.
Turning her attention back to the runway, the British model looked for the mystery girl, but this time she could no longer pick her out of the crowd. Her eyes wandered for a few seconds before another hand touched her shoulder.
Rose turned, almost exasperated that it was still her friend, but was surprised when she saw the unknown girl beside her.
The orange dress was similar to the one the British model wore, although the slit in the girl's cleavage was glaring. Had she had larger breasts, she might have posed a threat to Rose as well.
"Kritika," whispered the girl, approaching Rose and rising to reach the model's ear.
"Rose."
The Indian girl returned to her feet, a half smile on her lips as she squared off with the girl in front of her. The model squared back against the girl, who was a few inches shorter than her.
With feelings, Rose knew very well, and she watched Kritika return to stare into her eyes before she pointed to the dance floor, pointing to it with a small movement of her head.
Nodding in response, Rose followed the girl, lowering her gaze to note the firm attitude Kritika exhibited through her colourful dress, which seemed to glow with its light whenever it was hit by the beams of light.
Finally finding a small space, Kritika slowly turned around, staring at Rose as she began to dance. The British model began to follow the rhythm of the music along with the Indian girl.
Their movements in time to the music, combined with the lighting effects, made the moment much warmer; it almost seemed as if they were dancing for each other, flirting through the dance steps, in the midst of all the people.
From time to time, their bodies rubbed together, and the space around them was getting smaller and smaller; therefore, the two girls had to settle closer together to continue dancing.
With a quick movement, Rose opened her eyes wide, stepping forward to avoid falling. In the middle of their dance, Kritika slammed her ass hard into that of the model, who turned slowly towards the girl. Kritika merely smiled mockingly as she continued to dance and move sinuously.
"So this is what you want, huh?" thought Rose, with a hint of amusement.
After waiting a few seconds, Rose took the opportunity to slam her ass into the Indian one, exactly when the beat of the song started. Kritika stumbled forward a step, turning away with a menacing look and informing Rose, who responded with an arrogant smile.
The songs went on and on, as did the exchanges between the two girls, who continued to take turns banging their asses against each other, trying to go unnoticed in the crowd.
When the last song also ended, Kritika turned to Rose as the DJ prepared to be replaced by a colleague.
"Come with me, if you're woman enough," hissed Kritika.
"Lead the way," the British model replied curtly.
As the song ended and the next began, Kritika affirmed Rose's hand, leading her through the crowd of people. Both girls tightened their grip on each other's hands so they would not be separated.
As they exited the music area, the narrow, dark hallway of the club was empty, and the two girls managed to cross it without any problems.
Kritika tried to open a few doors along the way until one of them opened before their eyes. Casting a glance at Rose, the Indian girl smiled arrogantly, and they both went inside, closing the door behind them.
The coats hanging along the walls made them assume they had ended up in a wardrobe room, which was perfect for what they planned to do.
"What were you hoping to do down there, throwing your flabby ass at me?" growled Kritika, approaching her rival, "bitch?"
Rose locked the door, rattling the latch. No one was going to interrupt the two girls in that room for anything.
"What you were hoping to do with your fat ass," hissed Rose, approaching the "bitch."
"Fat?" asked the Indian girl in surprise, "you must be blind!"
Kritika turned around, lifting her dress to reveal her yellow panties and firm ass. Slapping it, the flesh trembled slightly, and the girl challenged Rose with her gaze.
The British model turned, lifting her dress and showing her purple panties, squeezing the muscles of her toned ass menacingly.
They both dwelled on what their rival was showing them, feeling suddenly jealous and annoyed; the other's ass was very similar in shape and size to the one they proudly wore.
"Better," smiled Rose, pointing to her ass.
"Not a chance," growled Kritika back, "but it will be my pleasure to prove you right."
"I don't ask for better."
The two girls disengaged from their positions so they could remove their clothes quickly, hanging them up along with their coats and also positioning their heels for more freedom of movement. The Pantieswere removed soon after so that their lower bodies were perfectly naked.
Returning to the center, the two returned to their previous positions before Rose launched herself at Kritika. Their butts collided, emitting a little meaty slap, and the Indian girl pushed back, striking back.
Feeling her rival's ass, Rose snapped to the side, thrusting her right butt into her rival's left one, pushing back.
As she was pushed backward, Kritika managed to grab Rose's wrist, left along her hips, and pull her to herself so that she was able to push her butt several times against Rose's, who grunted in discomfort.
"What's the problem?" "Is my ass too much for you?" taunted Kritika, slamming her ass hard from below, forcing Rose to stand on her toes for a second.
"Bitch!" growled the model.
Rose gritted her teeth, grabbing the Indian girl's wrist with her free hand and forcefully slamming her ass against her rival's, pressing her butt cheeks hard into Kritika's buttocks.
Undeterred, Rose continued to slam her ass into the Indian one over and over again, as if she wanted to smash it in. The Indian girl cried out in discomfort, surprised by the British girl's sudden violence.
Kritika began to moan, feeling how Rose's ass cheeks smashed against hers now that the British model began ramming her ass into her rival's from every direction.
Right, left, over, under, left, over. Rose kept ramming and slapping her enemy's ass with her own. She felt the energy inside her explode as she pounded her rival.
"N-no, bitch!" yelled the shorter girl, but Rose only increased the speed with which she struck.
The Indian girl began to stagger forward, propelled by the constant rival assault, incredulous that she could not respond to the blows. Rose violently slammed her ass directly into the enemy's before rising on tiptoe and quickly dismounting, slamming her ass from above and smashing it against the Indian buttocks.
Both grunted from the force of the blow, but Kritika let out a pained groan as she stepped forward, losing her grip on her rival.
"Where's your bravado gone, bitch?" "Can't your pathetic ass continue any longer?" laughed the model, arching her back and thrusting her ass towards her rival with mockery.
Kritika cast a furious glance towards her rival before smiling arrogantly, mixed with malice and sadism
"Is that all you got?"
Rose's eyes widened in surprise; the Indian girl was still treating her arrogantly. Growling, Rose squinted her eyes.
"We're just getting started, whore."
Kritika laughed, arousing the wrath of the British model, who pushed her ass into her rival's, beginning another series of blows. This time, the Indian girl took her time, meeting each stroke with her ass.
Forcefully, Kritika pushed her ass directly into her counterpart, forcing Rose to step forward, moaning in discomfort. Again, the Indian girl pressed her rival, slamming her ass into the British one.
Rose pushed back in turn, and their firm butts pressed together, staying anchored against each other as each tried to force the other's ass back.
The British model entwined her arms with Kritika's so that she could keep her close at all times and began to thrust harder. The Indian girl grunted when her ass was pushed back slightly, gritting her teeth as she responded in the same way, reversing positions.
Slamming hard, Kritika forced Rose to take a step forward before pulling her back to herself thanks to her entwined arms. Their asses slapped soundly, thrusting into each other.
Rose lowered herself suddenly, bringing her ass under that of the Indian girl. Kritika had only a second to figure it out before the British model quickly raised her hips, sending a hard smack into the underside of her rival's asses.
Kritika groaned, restraining herself from advancing and giving her rival space. The model's ass rose to the top, rising as Rose stood on tiptoe, then lowering herself violently.
"F-fuck!" moaned the Indian girl.
Kritika's buttocks seemed to lose their shape for a few moments, crushed by the pressure of the rival asses, before Rose pushed her buttocks directly into the Indian's.
"What's the matter, bitch?" hissed Rose "Can't keep up?"
Rose continued to slap her ass into her enemy's, and following a mighty thrust, Kritika hit the wall in front of her, using her hands to cushion the impact.
The British model left no time for her Indian rival to recover, pushing against her and ramming her ass into the Indian butt. The two pairs pressed together as Kritika grunted in discomfort. The Indian girl's arms were folded, palms pressed against the wall, as Rose pointed her feet and pushed back hard.
"Fuck!" cursed Kritika through clenched teeth.
Screaming in her fatigue, Kritika managed to lower her ass underneath her rival's, then forcefully thrust upward to drive it into the model's ass. Rose yelped in surprise as her feet almost came off the ground from the blow.
Rose stumbled forward, staggering as she tried to stop and charge back to continue pinning her rival against the wall. Kritika immediately launched herself at her rival, driving her firm ass into her counterpart. Rose tried to fend off the attack, but Kritika's momentum overwhelmed her, crushing her ass.
With a yelp, Rose staggered forward, resting her hands just in time to keep from slamming completely into it, before she felt Kritika nail her pelvis against the wall with a mighty thrust of her Indian ass.
"You feel that slut?" taunted Kritika, "Is my ass too much for you?"
"Fuck you, bitch!" hissed Rose.
Rose's body was almost anchored to the wall, and the Indian girl kept slamming her butt cheeks into her rival's buttocks with force and speed, forcing Rose's pelvis to slam against the wall several times. The model gritted her teeth, trying to push her rival back, but having little room to catch the momentum, Kritika's ass was pounding hers.
Rose grunted in pain as she felt the force of the enemy’s body against hers. The shorter girl pushed her ass into her rival's, making her yell as she felt her toned ass begin to soften.
"This must not happen!" thought Rose, pissed off.
The English model planted her hands hard as the Indian ass slammed into hers, gritting her teeth to withstand the impact before thrusting with all the force she had. The Indian girl screamed in fright, stepping forward. Rose regained her balance, swinging her ass hard from the right; the two pairs met with a resounding slap as the Indian girl's body was pushed to the side.
Another blow made Kritika moan, feeling her ass lose its perfect shape as Rose's butt collided with hers, continuing to jerk the Indian girl with each hard blow, leading both to moan in pain, but only Kritika seemed to get the worst of it.
"Stupid bitch, do you think your ass can beat mine?" roared Rose.
The model increased the speed of her attacks, leading her rival to move across the short room. A mighty blow from above nearly knocked Kritika over, her legs trembling slightly as the pain increased in her ass.
"Submit to the best ass, bitch!" smiled Rose.
She could not see her rival's face, but she could hear her continuous moans. She could imagine the fear in the Indian girl's eyes, feeling her ass get pounded and soften under the blows of the best ass.
The model pushed her ass frontally, and the Indian girl staggered forward, stopping with her hands on her knees as she gasped. When Rose came back to attack, after a few seconds to catch her breath, Kritika immediately tried to duck down to send another blow from below. Rose managed to predict the move, however, slamming her ass down hard before her rival could attack.
"It's over, bitch," smiled Rose, staring over her shoulder at her sweaty rival.
"N-no," whispered Kritika, casting a hateful glance at the model, "you won't win."
With a quick blow, Rose's smile faded. The Indian ass shattered hard from below the moment the model appeared to have her guard down. The British model growled back, slamming her ass frontally into her rival's.
The two girls took to slapping their asses together, slamming sideways whenever they could, pushing them together, and using the height to their advantage, striking from below and above. When fatigue began to make their hips burn, they both took a few steps apart before charging hard at each other.
Their legs trembled with each blow, but they both kept fighting. Neither wanted to give up; they had to push their limits to be sure of beating the enemy's ass.
Kritika jumped suddenly towards Rose, trying to slam her ass into the rival buttocks from above, but Rose managed to avoid the collision and slap her right buttock against the left Indian one, catching her rival off guard. Kritika's buttock seemed to be slowly being flattened by her rival's, struggling more and more to regain its shape.
Rose continued again, slapping her ass from every direction, each blow making Kritika's ass shake; each slap was accompanied by the shorter girl's moan.
The shorter girl cried out as she stumbled forward, seeing Rose launch herself towards her out of the corner of her eye. With a desperate gesture, Kritika turned around just in time, feeling Rose's ass rub against her side, before continuing the motion and slapping her ass hard into her rival's right buttock.
Rose let out a scream, feeling the pain explode in her ass, giving the Indian girl plenty of time to settle down and attack. Kritika forcefully slammed her ass against Rose's butt, repaying the model with brutal swings and frontal thrusts, varying the pace of the moves to give the model no time to react.
Rose had no way to defend herself as her ass received punishment from her Indian counterpart. She tried to push her buttocks against Kritika's, but the girl destroyed her attempts to respond, and Rose's ass continued to lose shape.
Kritika slapped Rose's left buttock heavily with her left, then dodged Rose's desperate attempt to respond to the attacks. The shorter girl bent over again, folding her legs before standing up again and slamming her ass from below. Rose's butt shot upward as the model yelled.
Giving no respite, Kritika rose on her toes to slam her ass into the top of the British butt. Rose's legs trembled, and the model threatened to fall to her knees from the rush and pain.
The Indian girl began shooting her ass into Rose's face, each collision emitting a loud slap, followed by grunts from both girls. The model responded in the same way, trying to inflict more damage than her rival.
After a long minute, Rose's eyes widened in fear as she looked down. She wanted to say something, to scream, but she could not. Her feet began to slide on the floor, sweaty and unable to succeed in repelling her rival.
Rose felt her ass slowly being softened under the rival blows; the model continually tried to push back and counterattack, but her feet kept slipping. Kritika continued to strike, her ass smashing hard into her counterpart and making Rose moan.
When Rose reached the wall, she pushed her hands against the wall, stopping the Indian girl's advance. The two girls continued to slam their asses together with frontal and decisive impacts, convinced that they could overcome enemy resistance.
After a mighty blow, in which both asses collided with brutal force, Rose's legs gave way suddenly. Each time their asses collided, the model felt her legs shaking but convinced herself that she could still do it.
Rose dropped to the floor, losing her balance and falling straight to the floor. Kritika shifted to look at her opponent with tears in her eyes, lying on the floor as she sobbed silently. The Indian girl pushed Rose's body into a prone position with her foot so that she could get down and sit on her rival's ass.
"This is a real woman's ass," hissed Kritika.
The Indian girl began grinding her ass into Rose's, feeling how it moulded under the weight of her better ass. Rubbing, the British model's choked moans dictated the rhythm of Kritika's strokes.
When Rose's ass completely lost its perfect shape, the shorter girl rose to roll Rose onto her back. The model watched in defeat as the girl rested her feet beside her head, a wicked smile on her face.
"Pay homage to the best ass, bitch," smiled Kritika, lowering herself and rubbing her winning ass on the model's beautiful face.
Rose felt the humiliation of that move, her stifled moans seeking a way out of Kritika's ass flesh, who laughed as she continued to rub her best ass. After a few seconds, the Indian girl stood up, planting her proud gaze into Rose's defeated and tearful one.
"Respect the better woman, bitch," hissed Kritika, placing a foot on Rose's stomach.
Taking one last look at the defeated model, the Indian girl very calmly put her clothes back on, savouring the life of Rose, who kept looking at her better half as she dressed. As a reward, Rose's Pantieswere taken by Kritika.
"So these panties will serve for a better ass," smiled the girl, putting on the newly stolen pants.
Rose was left alone, in a dull, dark place, now that the light of victory had been stolen by Kritika. She had lost, this time with absolute certainty.
