Neither woman drew any attention, decked out in their gold headdresses and glistening jewelry. They blended invisibly into the exotically dressed dancers and other club-goers who throbbed to the techno blaring throughout the expensive club. There was no guessing that these two gorgeous Latinas were princesses among the now secret race of the Mayans.
Historians had long assumed the Mayans, those mysterious builders of pyramids and ancient cities deep in South America, had died out as a civilization hundreds of years ago. In fact, they had merely been driven underground by the influx of barbarians and the eventual arrival of the Spaniards. Now they operated in secret, celebrating their ancient rites and traditions in a tight knit group whose members lead hidden lives throughout the world. Helping each other, and through the preservation of their society, they thrived, and rose to positions of prominence and success.
Led by their Queen these past forty years, the Mayans remained deeply religious and committed to their culture, the darker side of which still observed the Mayan practices of human sacrifice and violent ritual. But now, their Queen was dying, and it was time to choose a new queen, as dictated by the Ancient Ways.
Meztli and Zafrina were soon escorted into the back offices of the club by sharply dressed men in tuxedos, Acolytes who would oversee the contest that would determine their new Queen. They tall, brown-skinned women were led past the offices, down into a specially prepared chamber below the main floor of the club. There, they took their places on either side of an arena of sorts, a sunken floor made up of concentric square rings, much like an inverted pyramid. The floor at the center was clear and covered with a carpet full of mystic symbols and designs.
At one side sat the Queen, swathed in a ritual robe that fell loosely around her frail frame. Though her age was great, her former beauty still shone through in the classic features of her face and the proud way that she still carried herself. She motioned to the women who would vie for her place. “Prepare yourselves. The contest will begin as soon as you are ready. The winner will take my place, and the other will be sacrificed in honor of her victory, to bring her strength, and to ensure the Gods bless our people with another prosperous reign.”
Meztli and Zafrina began to remove their clothing, stripping down, revealing their soft, brown skin. They still wore their ritual headdresses and other gold jewelry. Here and there across their smooth skin, ancient Mayan tattoos decorated their stomachs, and circled their slim arms and upper thighs, symbols of their status as Mayan princesses.
The women stood apart, nearly naked, their large breasts exposed. The only modern clothing remaining were their high stiletto boots and sleek, spandex thongs. The Acolytes stepped forward to bundle their clothing, and receded back to the corners of the arena room.
Meztli flexed her toned body. It was rare, but she was one of those Mayan beauties who sported natural blonde hair that stood starkly against her tanned skin. Zafrina, on the other hand, had dyed her hair a deep red that accented her rosy lips and nipples. Both women had been preparing for this moment all their lives, and neither betrayed their hopes or fears for the coming battle. They stared at each other intently, betraying nothing to the other as they tried to psych each other out.
They stepped down the steps of the ring until they met in the center, where they crouched and assumed their fighting positions. They circled slowly, feinting and diving here and there, probing for the other’s strengths and weaknesses. The Mayans had a long tradition of wrestling, and both women were highly trained in body to body contact.
Meztli spied an opening and dove forward, tripping up Zafrina’s strong legs and toppling her to the floor. Diving on top of her, Meztli sought a hold on her slippery opponent, and the women grunted with effort as they maneuvered for a superior position.
Tangled on the floor, the women wrestled, and small yelps and shrieks marked where one or the other had secured a momentary painful hold as they pried at each others limbs and entwined their long legs around their feminine bodies. Both were strong and skillful, and the advantage fell to neither in the first moments of combat.
Zafrina finally managed to maneuver herself on top of Meztli, pinning her face first to the floor, her full weight upon her opponent’s back, pinning her arms to her sides. Meztli grunted as her large breasts were pressed uncomfortably beneath her chest, slightly oozing out to the sides. Zafrina yanked back on her arms, trapping the Mayan beauty in the beginnings of a painful surfboard, her breasts heaving on her chest from her powerful breathing. Standing to give herself leverage, she wrenched Meztli to her knees and put all her strength into pulling the young woman’s arms from her sockets.
Meztli groaned and thrashed her legs, stomping the carpet with her heels as Zafrina poured on the pressure. She realized that Zafrina would by trying to get her heel up and into her back, which would then finalized the agonizing surfboard hold. Zafrina, not realizing that Meztli kicks and thrashes were anything but an expression of panic and pain, never anticipated the reverse kick that sent Meztli 6” spike heel deep into her groin.
The back of Meztli’s heel connected solidly with her rival’s pussy, and with a scream, Zafrina collapsed to her side clutching her injured womanhood. Meztli herself was sitting on the floor next to her, wincing from the pain as she tried to massage some feeling back into her arms.
The mutual respite was brief, however, as an enraged Zafrina put aside her pain rushed over to deliver a heeled kick into Meztli’s side, knocking her over. Zafrina continued to kick at Meztli’s stomach and sides, forcing the blonde back into a corner of the squared arena floor. Zafrina then delivered a stunning, spinning kick that snapped into the side of Meztli’s head, knocking her into semi-consciousness against the sharp steps of the area’s periphery.
Zafrina jumped onto Meztli, sitting on her stomach while shoving her chin back with her hand. Meztli’s back was arched painfully against the hard steps of the arena. The furious red-head balled her fist and began to pummel Meztli’s stomach and breasts while wracking the blonde against the hard steps that dug into her back.
The dazed blonde was confused and weakly reached out her arms to try and stop the beating that Zafrina was delivering to her soft stomach and pert, round breasts. Her breath exploded from her lips with each powerful blow, and spittle flew from her mouth as Zafrina started to crack backhands across the Latina’s fine cheekbones.
It was almost over for the groggy girl, until in the midst of their battle, Meztli, by design or just sheer luck, brought her knee up hard into Zafrina’s already wounded pussy. Zafrina abruptly stopped her attack, and once again fell to her side, groaning.
Meztli shook off the daze that threatened to cost her the battle and struggled to her knees. She clutched at Zafrina’s mane of red hair and pulled her groaning rival towards her. Breathing heavily, she stood and hauled her screaming rival up by her hair until they were both standing in the center of the ring again. She wrapped Zafrina up into her arms and began to squeeze her biceps together in a bear-hug that left her opponent gasping.
Both women’s breasts, slick with sweat, were pressed together as Meztli’s arms squeezed the breath from Zafrina’s lungs. Their nipples grew stiff and dug mercilessly into each other’s breasts, drawing little cries from the crimson lips of both women. Zafrina reached up and dug her claws into the blonde tresses of her rival, pulling and yanking in an attempt to escape the painful bear-hug that trapped her and was punishing her nipples.
Meztli suddenly shifted her grip and instead reach down and under Zafrina’s crotch, one arm in front and the other in back, hands clasped together. Zafrina shifted her weight and spread her legs to lower her center of gravity, anticipating the flip that Meztli was attempting.
But instead of flipping the red-headed princess, Meztli instead squeezed with all her might, bearing down with the palms of her hands on either side of Zafrina’s pussy, pinching it tight between her hands. Too late, Zafrina realized that by spreading her legs, she had given her royal rival a clear grip on her already tortured crotch.
Zafrina moaned and fought back the tears that began to well in her eyes. Meztli continued to squeeze and pinch at Zafrina’s mound even as the red-head renewed her attack on Meztli’s hair and scalp.
Zafrina’s moaning increased with the pain in between her legs. Her whole body was quivering. Meztli’s right breast still bored into Zafrina’s left mound, who’s nipple was being driven back by Meztli’s own, erect nub. Her yanking on Meztli’s tresses was easing up, and her other hand instinctively reached for her pussy to try and pry away the hands that were crushing her mound.
When her efforts at stopping Meztli proved futile, Zafrina made a fist and crashed it hard against Meztli’s left tit. The punch knocked some air out of Meztli, and her grip loosened perceptibly. Sensing a weakness, Zafrina, still in tears, started to barrage Meztli’s exposed orb, pounding it over and over. The huge breast shook powerfully with each blow, wrenching a juddering cry from Meztli who refused to let go.
Zafrina redoubled her efforts, cocking back her arm and shouting as she delivered haymaker after haymaker into Meztli’s abused left tit. Meztli gasped as a particularly savage blow compressed her tit deep into her chest, and she fell limp against Zafrina, sliding to the floor of the arena. She shivered and moaned slightly as she reached for her wounded mammary and attempted to sooth it with her massaging hands.
But Zafrina, sensing victory, did not ease up her attack. She jumped on Meztli’s back, pinning the girl to the ground, and reached around with her right hand to secure a death claw on Meztli’s already injured orb. She hauled her sobbing adversary up by that tortured tit until her back arched in pain and her tit was fully exposed for more punching. Zafrina clawed with one hand and smashed with the other until Meztli was crying with abandon, a great fear in her eyes.
Zafrina’s blows and clawing had taken their toll on the Latina’s firm and once-proud tit, and a trickle of blood could be seen seeping out around where Zafrina’s nails dug into that magnificent orb. Zafrina decided it was time to finish it. She wrapped her forearm around her blubbering opponent and clasped her other arm around her head, trapping her in a devastating sleeper hold.
Within moments, Meztli’s body went limp as she drifted into unconsciousness. Just to make sure, Zafrina punched her tit a few more times, which elicited no response. Slowly, Zafrina rose before the Queen.
“You have won, and it is now your place to replace me on this throne. May you lead the people well,” said the Queen. As she said it, it seemed a great burden was lifted from her, and her breathing grew slow and deep. Turning to her Acolytes, she motioned to Meztli’s form.
“Prepare her for sacrifice,” was all she said.