Here's the conclusion to the story. Thanks to all who have read this, and particularly to those who have commented.
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*****
“Mmm….yes…” murmured Lyanna when her spasms subsided at last, leaving her hunched over, still standing, still clutching Tiffany’s head to her crotch. She untangled her hands from the brunette’s hair, laughing softly under her breath. “That felt…so…good…” she said breathlessly. “So…damn…good.” She held Tiffany’s flushed, crushed, devastated face in her hands. “But it’s still not over, is it…pet?” She let go with one hand and held it in front of Tiffany’s eyes, dangling the scarlet thong. “The Queen deserves to be crowned…no?” Tiffany flinched as the redhead slapped the thong hard across both her cheeks.
“Take it,” Lyanna ordered her in a voice that allowed nothing but obedience. Tiffany shuddered involuntarily at her tone. She rules the room now…and me along with it. Her hands trembled even more than before, so much so that she dropped the thong when she tried to take it from Lyanna. There was laughter – mocking laughter – among the audience as she fumbled and reached down to pick it up off the carpet.
Still shaking, she held it out at ankle height for Lyanna to place first one foot, then the other into it. Tiffany kept her eyes unfocused, trying not to look, not to think about what she was doing, but the enormity of it filled her mind. She’s not just taking the championship, taking my title…she’s making me actually hand it to her in defeat. It’s all part of the humiliation. She doesn’t just want the title. She wants my dignity, my pride. She wants it all.
She began to slide the thong, her thong – no, her thong – slowly up Lyanna’s lissome legs. Her fingertips caressed the redhead’s slick skin once more on their return journey. She remembered those legs clamped tight around her, the pressure, the pain, crushing her. She shivered and she noticed, as she reached Lyanna’s knees, that the other woman’s flesh was quivering too. She’s trembling with excitement. Why shouldn’t she? This is her dream come true. She has it all. She’s taken it all. Yet another sob of despair made her drooping shoulders shake.
It became harder, both physically and emotionally, as she lifted the thong higher, up the new champion’s thighs, inch by inch. She wanted to be anywhere but here, kneeling before her conqueror in front of the entire Society, and doing anything but this, relinquishing her title to her long-time enemy, but nevertheless she found herself leaning closer to Lyanna, feeling the power in the redhead’s muscles, smelling the scent of her musky sweat. Her tongue flicked across her lips as her body, of its own volition, wanted to taste the power.
Lyanna lowered herself a little and spread her feet slightly wider to allow Tiffany to settle the thong over her mound, the slender straps stretched high over her hips. It was perhaps a tiny bit tighter than it had been on Tiffany, but it was still, to all observers, a perfect fit. Tiffany tried to avert her eyes, but she could not. The champion’s thong – on her. Her hands fell to her sides. Not on me. She could not help but stare transfixed at the golden circular Society sigil emblazoned on the front of the thong – emblazoned on Lyanna’s crotch now, on the new champion. It’s hers now, by right of conquest. That thought – that truth – squeezed at her heart and crushed the last ragged remnants of her spirit.
Standing over her, Lyanna seemed to grow taller, larger, more powerful. She pushed her shoulders back further, held her head even higher, smiling in triumph at the crowd. Phone cameras flashed yet again, capturing the culmination of her conquest, the new Queen crowned, the deposed champion cowed and beaten at her feet. People were calling out to her, imploring her to turn in their direction, to smile for them, to pose for them. She obliged them all.
She tilted her head down to gaze at Tiffany kneeling before her. “Look at me.”
Slowly, Tiffany turned her tearful face upward. Her eyes flickered, unable to meet Lyanna’s gaze for more than a moment.
“Tell me again. Who am I?” asked Lyanna pointedly. “What am I?”
Tiffany’s mouth opened, then closed again. “You’re…you’re Lyanna,” she replied in a quavering voice, “and…” She intended to say, “and you’re the Society champion” but the words that came out were, “and you’re the Queen.” She shuddered and hung her head in shame.
Her eyes darted up again as the redhead pointed to her crotch, tapping the golden sigil. “Kiss it,” she instructed. “Kiss my thong.” Tiffany trembled once more but did not dare to even hesitate. She extended her neck, trembling even harder with the effort of holding herself upright, holding her shoulders and arms back and stretching out her head to place her lips gently against the Society symbol and the firm flesh of the new champion’s mound beneath.
She meant to make only a brief contact, merely to see that the order was obeyed, but her strength or perhaps her will gave out at that moment and she felt herself lean in harder, pressing more firmly against Lyanna’s crotch. She let out another unrestrained sob of sheer misery as applause echoed around the room and more flashes immortalized her downfall.
Lyanna stood tall for the cameras – the proud victor displaying her trophy to the crowd. She did not bother to hold Tiffany’s lips in place against her crotch. There was no need. She merely stood smiling radiantly as the audience applauded and took picture after picture. History had been made here tonight, and everyone wanted to capture the moment.
Somebody off to Tiffany’s left called out, “Show us her face!” Lyanna reached down, twisted her fingers in Tiffany’s tangled hair, almost gently – She doesn’t need to use force any longer – and turned her in that direction, posing with the brunette’s cheek against her thigh, Tiffany’s ravaged face on show for the crowd and their cameras. Lyanna was gracious in her moment of glory. “Turn this way!” “Give us a victory pose!” “Put your knee in her back and stretch her out!” She smoothly and swiftly went from pose to pose, the hunter with her prey, the warrior and her vanquished victim, the object of their adulation. Tiffany was turned this way and that, displayed for their derision. Please just let her send me away, and let this be over.
At last Lyanna tossed Tiffany away and the crowd closed in around the victor to offer their individual congratulations. The redhead flexed, posed, offered her body to the crowd as they stroked her muscles, wanting to bask in her triumph.
Tiffany lay on her belly, shaking with the force of a myriad emotions. She didn’t even bother to order me out of the arena, like she should. She just threw me away like a piece of garbage. Somebody stepped over her to get to Lyanna. The party guests clustered around the redhead, hugging her, kissing her cheeks and even her lips, reaching out to touch her, all anxious to touch the power that had just deposed and destroyed the champion before their eyes. Someone else stepped on Tiffany’s back and she groaned weakly but did nothing – could do nothing – to get herself out of the way of the crowd.
She lay there a long time, alone in the midst of the throng, ignored, trying not to think, trying not to feel, wishing the floor would simply open up and swallow her – anything to be away from here. She barely noticed when the crowd moved away, oblivious to everything but her pain and her shame. She had lost it all. I’ll never be able to stand up in this room, ever again. They’ll all remember this night. They’ll all laugh at me just like they’re laughing now. That’s if they even let me through the door.
There was no telling what roused from her grief-stricken catatonia but she raised her head slowly to peer around her. The arena was deserted now except for her. The onlookers had gravitated back to the main part of the room, though there was a cluster crowded not far from the edge of the arena.
“Yes…I’m talking to you.” Lyanna’s voice cut through the background noise. Tiffany struggled to focus on the redhead. Lyanna was sitting in the center of the foremost couch, on the seat sheathed in red leather – the champion’s seat. She was flanked by two women in evening dress – one blonde, one raven-haired.
Lyanna’s legs were splayed wide to show off the scarlet thong, and she wore a matching silk robe over her shoulders. That’s my robe! How did she – ? The answer was obvious. Someone had brought it to her, maybe even placed it on her shoulders. It was the color of the champion, so it belonged to the champion. Tiffany was no longer the champion. It was no longer hers.
The robe hung open at the front, revealing Lyanna’s breasts, their nipples still flushed dark and swollen hard, above the velvet, gently rippling plane of her abs. Lyanna lifted her hand, crooked a finger and beckoned to Tiffany. “Come here.” She smiled. “Crawl to me, bitch.”
It took even more effort than before – her limbs were stiff now as well as sore – but Tiffany obediently levered herself up onto all fours and began to crawl toward the champion. Oh God, what now? What else can she do to me? What else can she take from me? She stopped, her head and shoulders between the knees of her nemesis, face downcast, waiting.
Lyanna sat regarding her with a satisfied smile. “Look at you,” she said at last. “The mighty, fallen…though I guess you never were that mighty, to begin with.” She chuckled, then gave a pleasurable shiver. “Well, you can lick pussy well, I’ll give you that much. Maybe that can be your new job, after tonight.” There were matching chuckles from the standing onlookers.
“Speaking of which,” mused Lyanna, “I’ve still got a little itch I need scratched.” She reached down and stroked a finger up the front of her thong, tracing the line of her womanhood. The cloth was pulled up tight between her nether lips in a distinct camel toe that was clearly visible from Tiffany’s vantage point. Even that, she owns now.
“Third time’s the charm, bitch,” laughed Lyanna. She hooked a finger into the edge of the thong and drew it aside to expose her sex once more. Her lips were puffy, deep red and glistening. “Go on…please me.”
Tiffany looked up into Lyanna’s eyes, and saw the strength, the power, the supreme confidence there. She looked into her own heart and found nothing – no scrap of pride or dignity or defiance. She had nothing. Bowing her head, she crawled forward further and bent her head dutifully, searching with her tongue for the new Queen’s clit.
“Mmmmmm,” Lyanna moaned with exaggerated enjoyment. “I was right…you do lick pussy well.” She arched her back, grinding again on Tiffany’s face. Her arms spread out wide and she gripped the knees of the women on either side of her as she thrust her body forward and upward. She did not need to hold Tiffany’s head in place. Utterly beaten now in every sense of the word, the broken ex-champion licked and sucked and nibbled unhesitatingly at her sopping sex.
“Oh…gawd…yes,” gasped Lyanna. A long, plaintive groan escaped her lips. She trembled against Tiffany, quivering with the effort of holding back her orgasm. “This is…going to be…epic.” She bucked as a tremor ripped through her.
Tiffany plunged her tongue deep into the redhead’s pussy, swirling it inside her as Lyanna’s hips gyrated in time with her rapid rhythm. She felt Lyanna’s inner walls clamping tight around her, sucking on her tongue. She pulled it out, stabbed it in again, pulled it and sucked hard on her conqueror’s swollen, throbbing clit. I’ll make her cum. There was no resistance left in her now. Cum for me. Cum on me! “Cum in my mouth!” She was barely aware that she had spoken the words aloud, muffled as they were by the redhead’s pussy.
Lyanna heard her however, and the champion let out a long groan of ecstasy that started low but grew rapidly in pitch and volume until at last she shrieked her fulfillment at the high ceiling and exploded on Tiffany’s tongue, writhing in wild abandon, bucking and humping and squirming. A torrent of juices erupted in Tiffany’s face. The routed, ragged, degraded and desecrated brunette – ruined was the word that echoed in her mind – opened her mouth and accepted it all, slurping and swallowing, wallowing in her defilement. It was more than acceptance, more than resignation. This was abject surrender.
When the redhead’s powerful spasms finally ceased – she cums as hard as she fights – it was as though Tiffany was a marionette whose strings had suddenly been cut. She collapsed to the carpet, her face and hair, neck and breasts covered in the flood of Lyanna’s lust. Body and mind both reeling with awful exhaustion, she lay gasping as the audience cheered and the champion’s juices drooled from her open mouth.
It took a long time for Lyanna to stir, but finally Tiffany heard her announce in a shaky voice, “Damn, this bitch really does eat pussy like a pro! You people should try her out!” There were cheers and more laughter among the onlookers. Lyanna too laughed as, with an effort, she pushed herself upright in her seat. “Though I’ve got no doubt, a lot of you will do exactly that in the days to come.” She nudged the crumpled Tiffany with her toes. “What do you think, bitch? I bet a lot of people are gonna want a piece of you, after tonight.” The renewed laughter from the crowd lent a chilling certainty to her words.
Lyanna leaned forward and used her grip on the knees of the two women flanking her to push herself to her feet. She stood swaying just a little, smiling a smile of supreme self-assurance, completely confident in her own power. “For tonight though,” she purred, “I want to keep you all to myself.” She bent and hooked a finger through the black thong that still hung around Tiffany’s neck – in her misery the brunette had completely forgotten it was there. Lyanna used it to drag her up to her knees once more. “Third time might be the charm,” she added loudly enough for everyone to hear, “but nobody says it has to be the end.”
She strode away toward the dark portal that led to her dressing room, tugging on the thong, using it as a leash. Head hanging, hair sweeping the floor, Tiffany trailed meekly after her, crawling subserviently to her fate.
THE END
