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Training Fortune's Heiress	By : Unaplicable Category: +A through F > Dead or Alive Views: 3067 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: None of the characters mentioned are my own and I do not own the Dead or Alive Franchise. I make no money or profit from this story.

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Christie’s long toned leg flexed with sculpted feminine musculature, her quads and hams bulge as the white-haired assassin increased the pressure on Helena’s slender white throat, pushing with enough force to reduce Helena brain’s blood flow to a trickle. Helena Douglas gasped and spluttered as her neck was squeezed by Christie’s snow-white sole, her manicured toes curling around the cream-white skin of Helena’s throat.
The young blonde heiress gasped as her vision blurred, she couldn’t believe how quickly Christie had subdued her, had she really lost her edge so quickly? When she had charge the assassin with the aim to strangle her slender white neck, however, Christie had simply crossed her calves around Helena’s throat when she was close enough and twisting her torso around to slam the heiress on the bed. Now she was standing behind the queen-sized bed with her right leg planted on Helena’s neck, her ankle squeezing her slowly pulsing artery.
Quickly snapping her foot up from Helena’s neck, Christie slammed the heel of her foot hard into the heiress’s toned midsection, in a vicious axe kick that left Helena collapsed on the canvas, panting, and clutching at her belly.
“Unngghh!” Helena yelped in pained shock, the black silk of her qipao was pulled tight across her full natural breasts, they look almost ready to burst free from confines of hip-length dress. Helena’s   35D-cup tits were heaving in time with her laboured breaths, her slender fingers caressing the pink print blooming on her abs. Her toned thighs were spread out haphazardly across the bedsheets.
Christie stepped over Helena’s prone body and reached down and wrapped her sleekly muscled arms around Helena’s graceful ankles and, exhibiting her impressive strength, flipped Helena onto her front. Christie took a moment to admire the heiress’s toned sculpted bubble-butt, the black strip of her qipao dress fell to one side, both Helena’s cream white ass-cheeks flexed in anxious anticipation. The assassin sat down on the blonde’s lower back, forcing a grunt from her, Christie lifted Helena’s calves and thighs up while pressing down on the heiress’s torso, Christie taut rounded buttocks bulging against Helena’s lower back. The heiress’s chest panting and panic growing in her beautiful blue-green irises, Helena was fully aware of what the assassin was planning.
Christie was able to effectively reverse ride Helena’s spine and bend her legs back over herself in an excruciatingly painful Sharpshooter hold. She had twisted Helena’s calves into a knot and applied unbearable pressure to Helena’s hams and quads, which flexed and clenched with the pressure. The young heiress groaned as each individual muscle in her gym-toned legs tensed up in cramps, intense pain flashed throughout her body. Helena squealed as her spine creaked under the sheer amount of pressure that the assassin could exert over her.
Christie kept up the wrestling hold on Helena for nearly ten full minutes while she gasped moaned and scrapped weakly against the canvas. After five minutes, beads of sweat gleamed on her toned upper thighs.
“Fight it Helena! Squirm out! Go on, harder! Harder!” Christie whispered, as Helena manicured fingernails clenched the white silk bed linen, desperate to pull herself free.
Nnnnggghhh!!! Helena shrieked as Christie flexed back even further and added another pound of pressure on Helena’s thighs. The white-haired assassin smirked at the heiress’ suffering; her white teeth revealed as her full, black-glossed lips curled back. Christie was genuinely looking forward to seeing how much pressure the blonde could take before snapping or testing just how far Helena’s self-preservation instinct went. “I’m going to break you, Helena” Christie snarled as Helena’s classically beautiful face contorted with pain. “Do you hear me, Helena?!” Christie asked, angered by her opponent’s reluctance to answer her. When Helena still refused to reply, she reached forward and buried her hand in Helena’s glossy blonde hair, wrenching the heiress’s head back at a severe angle, the cords in Helena’s throat bulging as her body was bent back on itself.
“Aaaaahhhh!!” Helena squealed, as her spine groaned from the almost unbearable amount of pressure placed on the small of her back. Helena’s squared her lips and glared at her opponent, refusing to give the vile woman the satisfaction of seeing her submit.
Glancing down Christie was amused to see the upper curvature of Helena’s backside bulging back into her lower back. She had to reaffirm her grip of Helena’s ankles, as she struggled beneath her, the flawless bubble-like heart-shaped ass-cheeks were rippling, providing an enticing view. Beads of perspiration gleamed on Helena’s lower back as she moaned and gasped.
SMACK
Christie relinquished her Sharpshooter hold, dumping her opponent’s ankles hard onto the bed.
“Ugh!” was all Helena could splutter as she rolled across the canvas. Christie took a moment to admire the blonde’s curvy toned body, her long thighs were flexing with musculature, and her slim waist and svelte torso were heaving in time with her laboured breaths.
Her classically beautiful sharp facial features were flushed with exertion, her blue-green irises were narrowed in frustration. Never in all her practice of Pigua Quan had she been so easily subdued. Helena’s blonde hair was matted with sweat and plastered along her sylphlike back, down past her waist. The young heiress was just aware enough put up a token resistance when Christie crouched down behind her head and wrapped her sleek calves around Helena’s neck, locking her ankles together tight around her throat. Helena could only gurgle in response as her fingers scrabbled against the assassin’s foot-lock, growing desperation in her struggles signalled her cardiovascular system’s increasing need.
Christie folded her long legs against herself, while trusting her hips up. Helena could only gasp for air as her body was bent up and stretched out by the white-haired assassin’s painful hold. Her slim toned belly was flexing, bent into an arch by the sheer forcefulness of Christie’s muscular thighs, Helena’s own well-toned thighs were splayed open in a wide splits posture. Helena’s was tensed up, her waist was undulating in constant rhythmic convulsions, until Christie flexed her thighs even harder.
The assassin’s subtly striated abs tensed with feminine muscle tone as flexed her quads until Helena’s body had become limp and malleable in her grip. Climbing off the bedspread, Christie slide her palms up the fine black silk, relishing its smooth feel and the warmth of Helena’s flesh beneath. She moved from the upper curvature of her malleable ass-cheeks, squeezing the full globes with bulges of silk encased buttocks between her fingers. Further up, Christie traced along the slender contours of her upper back until she found he small hidden zipper at the qipao’s intricately white patterned collar.
Enjoying the process of peeling off the tradition Chinese dress. She had to slightly lift Helena’s limp body to shimmy the dress down past Helena’s softened buttocks and down past her long legs. Soon the rich blonde was left in black silk lingerie, which Christie also pulled off. Unclipping Helena’s bra, allowing her breasts to bulge more naturally into the bedsheets, and removed her panties from Helena’s bisected ass.
Christie smiled at her handiwork, Helena’s bare body was gleaming with droplets of perspiration on her toned thighs, slim belly, and elegant throat. The water from the Mediterranean cast ripples of blue over Helena’s cream-white complexion.
Her grey irises were irresistibly drawn to bare ass. Christie took one glute in each palm, pulled them apart, and exposing the extremely tender skin of Helena’s soft inner ass-cleavage. As the heiress was utterly relaxed in unconsciousness, her ass-cheeks were wonderfully soft, digging her fingers into her velvety flesh. Lifting and spreading, giving her a complete view of Helena’s smooth waxed pussy mound and cute, puckered asshole. Christie made a mental note to stress-test them thoroughly. Rolling the heiress onto her back, Christie saw Helena’s full natural breasts jiggled into view. She absentmindedly comparing them to her own impressive rack, yet undecided on who’s were the most desirable. Even on her back, Helena’s tits remained to their tear-drop shape, sweat beads running down her creamy cleavage, perspiration gleamed on the blonde’s Mimi pink nipple. Christie’s eyes wondered across her slim toned midsection; faint abs divided by a limber line of muscular. Toned muscle rippled her thighs before flaring into her hourglass hips.
As Christie took a few moments to appreciate the athletic musculature of her thighs, grinding her fingertips down into the sculpted thickness of her curvy ass, watching in lust as cream ass-cheeks bulged out.
Christie was still gazing, almost mesmerised, at the sublime teardrop contours of Helena’s full 35D-cup tits, when the private luxury suite’s varnished mahogany door opened, and a tall powerfully built man stepped inside. The statuesque Englishwoman hadn’t even noticed that her private time with Fame Douglas’s daughter had been interrupted.
“She looks as lovely as the day I met her”, Christie glanced over one shoulder, the man who spoke wore an expensive white suit of double breasted style, his lapels, trouser hem, jacket, and the sleeve cuffs were of a pinstripe cloth. His light blonde hair was slicked back with copious amount of hair gel. Christie managed to hide the annoyance in her light-grey irises admirably, frustrated that her play-session with the little Prima donna had been spoiled.
“Forget your mask, did we?”, Christie sneered. Victor’s facial features hardened; his light-blonde eyebrows flared above a sharp pair of steel-blue eyes that gleamed with a lifetime of malevolence. Under that gaze, Christie’s own confidence crumbled, and she glanced down at the floor in an unwilling submissive gesture.
Victor eyes raked over every inch of Helena’s toned curvy body, seemingly inspecting her cream-white skin for any imperfections or cellulite damage and finding nothing. He was impressed despite himself; Helena had remained as every bit beautiful as he remembered, regardless of how much he hated her, her sharp aristocratic features slackened with slumber drew the gaze of every male she met.
“I am going to teach you so many things, Helena, and you will learn the obedience your witless father never taught you”, Victor’s voice was cool and calm, as if the current situation was just another Friday night. “Christie, you wouldn’t mind bring in our special guest?”, he added.
The white-haired assassin’s thighs had been trembling with sadistic anticipation, now she could feel her hips squirming slight unbidden as she turned to fetch the little heiress’s servant.
“Of course, Victor”. She replied.
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Training Fortune's Heiress