"Liv's New Bitch" with Liv Morgan and Roxanne Perez

[TheLW]

Liv's New Bitch
With Liv Morgan and Roxanne Perez
Written by TheLW
Codes: FF, Oral, Spanking, Strap-on
Disclaimer: This FICTIONAL story was written for entertainment purposes only.

On May 19th, 2025, Monday Night Raw went live from the Bon Secours Wellness Arena in Greenville, South Carolina, and the building carried the familiar electricity of a crowd that knew something consequential was unfolding, even if they could not yet name it. Red lights washed over the entrance ramp in slow pulses, and the roar of the audience rose and fell in waves as the broadcast moved deeper into the night. This was not a throwaway episode, and the people in attendance sensed it instinctively.

When Finn Bálor’s music hit, the reaction was immediate and divided, cheers tangled with boos, admiration clashing with resentment. He emerged with the unhurried confidence of a man who believed the ring belonged to him by right, flanked by the ominous presence that had come to define The Judgment Day. Raquel Rodriguez, JD McDonagh, Liv Morgan, and Dominik Mysterio followed, their collective body language projecting control, cohesion, and a menacing vibe.

Then there was Roxanne Perez.

She stepped onto the stage a half-beat behind Finn, smaller than the others, younger, and visibly out of place in a way that could not be hidden by posture alone. The contrast was evident. Roxanne’s expression was composed, but her eyes moved constantly, taking in the crowd, the lights, the faces beside her. This was not fear, exactly. It was awareness. She understood the significance of standing there, understood what it meant to be seen next to them, and she also understood how quickly the same spotlight could turn unforgiving.

Finn spoke at length in the ring, his words measured and purposeful. He talked about evolution, about dominance, about recognizing potential before the rest of the world caught up. When he gestured toward Roxanne, the crowd reacted sharply, surprise rippling through the arena. Finn framed her as an opportunity, a future asset, someone who embodied the hunger and edge that Judgment Day demanded. He did not promise anything outright. Finn never did. He implied, and implication was far more dangerous.

The others reacted in their own ways. Raquel Rodriguez watched Roxanne with a skeptical calm, arms crossed, unreadable. JD McDonagh gave her a brief nod, analytical and already calculating the angles. Dominik stood close to Liv Morgan, his attention split between the ring and the audience, visibly less invested in the moment than the tension surrounding it suggested. Liv, however, said nothing. She simply stared.

When the segment ended and the group dispersed backstage, the arena noise faded into a distant hum, replaced by the sterile quiet of concrete corridors and production equipment. One by one, the members of Judgment Day peeled away, pulled in different directions by interviews, matches, and obligations that came with being at the center of the show.

Roxanne found herself standing still.

She realized it a second too late, by the time she turned, she was alone with Liv Morgan.

Liv did not hesitate. She stepped forward, closing the space between them with calculated precision, her presence sharp and invasive. Up close, her smile was thin, practiced, and entirely without warmth. She looked Roxanne up and down slowly, deliberately, as though assessing merchandise rather than a person.

“So,” Liv said, her voice low and cutting, “you really think you’re Judgment Day material?”

Roxanne held her ground, but the shift in power was unmistakable. This was no longer a public-facing moment with cameras and scripts. This was private, and Liv thrived in private confrontations. She leaned in closer, forcing Roxanne to meet her gaze.

“Let me make something very clear,” Liv continued, her tone dripping with condescension. “This isn’t Finn’s call. Not really. You don’t just walk into this group because one guy thinks you’re shiny and new.”

Roxanne said nothing, her jaw tightening slightly.

Liv smirked, encouraged by the silence. “You want in? You get voted in. Every single one of us has to say yes.”

She straightened, crossing her arms. “Sure, you’d get Finn’s vote. JD’s too, he follows Finn around like a lost puppy. But don’t get comfortable.”

Her eyes narrowed, and the smile vanished.

“My best friend Raquel?” Liv said flatly. “She’s not voting for you. And my boyfriend?” She glanced down the hallway where Dominik had disappeared. “Dominik won’t either. I promise you that.”

Liv stepped back at last, satisfied she had delivered the message. “So don’t start imagining yourself wearing our colors. Because this little audition?” She shrugged. “It’s already over.”

With that, Liv turned and walked away, leaving Roxanne alone in the corridor, the weight of the encounter settling heavily in her chest. The opportunity Finn had dangled now felt sharper, more dangerous than before, less like an invitation, and more like a test designed for her to fail.

Liv had taken only a few steps before she stopped.

She turned back slowly, as if reconsidering something she had already decided against. The silence stretched, and Roxanne felt it before she fully understood it. Liv’s expression had changed, curiosity replacing certainty.

“...That said,” Liv began, her voice quieter now, “things can change.”

Roxanne looked up, cautious. “Change how?”

Liv tilted her head, studying her again, this time with something resembling intrigue. “I have influence,” she said plainly. “More than you think. Raquel listens to me. Dom listens to me. Votes aren’t as locked as I made them sound.”

She stepped closer once more, though this time she didn’t crowd Roxanne, she circled her instead, slow and predatory, like a thought being reconsidered rather than a threat being delivered.

“If I wanted to,” Liv continued, “I could make a convincing case. I could sell them on you. Make them see what Finn claims he already does.”

Roxanne’s heartbeat quickened. “And why would you do that?”

Liv stopped directly in front of her. “Because I don’t bring just anyone into my group,” she said. “I need to know exactly what I’m dealing with.”

She leaned in just enough that Roxanne could hear her clearly over the distant noise of the arena. “So here’s the condition.”

Roxanne didn’t interrupt.

“You meet me at my hotel tonight. After the show,” Liv said. “No cameras. No Judgment Day. Just you and me.”

Roxanne frowned slightly. “For what?”

Liv’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. “Consider it a private initiation.”

There was a brief pause, just long enough for the implications to settle, unclear, unsettling, and very much intentional.

“What kind of initiation?” Roxanne asked carefully.

Liv straightened, already stepping back, the moment firmly back under her control. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

With that, she turned and walked away for good this time, leaving Roxanne standing alone once more.

Back at the Hotel, Roxanne stood alone in the hallway, the patterned carpet muffling the sound of her footsteps as she approached the door she had memorized hours earlier.

She hesitated once.

Then she knocked.

A moment passed. Then Liv’s voice cut through the door, sharp and impatient. “It’s open. Come in.”

Roxanne turned the handle and stepped inside.

Liv didn’t greet her, at least not at first. She simply looked her over.

“You actually showed up,” Liv said, a faint smirk forming. “Good. That tells me something.”

Roxanne closed the door behind her, the click echoing louder than it should have. “You said this was the condition.”

“It is,” Liv replied. She stood, and walked closer, with unmistakable authority. “Let’s be clear before this goes any further.”

Roxanne met her eyes. “I’m listening.”

Liv stopped just short of her. “If you want a place in The Judgment Day, tonight isn’t about proving yourself to Finn. Or JD. Or anyone else.”

Her voice dropped, calm but absolute. “Tonight is about proving yourself to me.”

Roxanne stiffened slightly. “And what does that mean?”

Liv smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “It means you understand where you stand. It means you understand who has leverage, and who doesn’t. And it means you’re willing to accept my terms without pretending this is some equal arrangement.”

She tilted her head, eyes never leaving Roxanne’s face. “Because if you walk into our world, you don’t get protection. You get tested.”

A beat passed.

“This is your initiation,” Liv continued. “Private. Unofficial. And entirely on my terms.”

Roxanne swallowed. “What happens if I say no?”

Liv’s smile widened slightly. “Then you walk out of this room, and The Judgment Day moves on without you. Simple.”

“And if I stay?”

Liv stepped back, gesturing toward the room. “Then for tonight Roxy, that Latina ass of yours, belongs to me.”

"And you'll give me your word, that I'll be able to join The Judgment Day?"

"Oh Roxy, you have my word."

It didn’t take long for Roxanne to make her decision, as Liv Morgan would soon find herself laying naked on the bed in her hotel room, as the woman nicknamed The Prodigy was between her thighs eating out the woman who controlled her future, in possibly joining The Judgment Day.

Liv’s thighs surrounded her head, less of a cradle, and more so locking Roxanne in place. No illusion of intimacy here, just a demand. Roxanne could feel Liv’s legs flex, every subtle shift of muscle, and read every twitch, as she lapped away at the blonde haired woman.

Roxanne sucked and licked, sometimes soft and delicate, sometimes with rough, flattening licks, and Liv made a fist in her hair, yanked her back, then pushed her back in for more. She tried, once, to breathe through her nose, but Liv shifted herself upwards, riding Roxanne’s mouth for just an inch more, as if her own pleasure depended on suffocating every last doubt out of Roxanne’s head.

Liv’s thighs quivered around her ears, crushing in, forcing Roxanne’s face deeper. The heat and dampness of it made her jaw ache, the angle relentless, but she let herself fold into the problem, go harder, go sloppier, do whatever the fuck Liv needed and damn the burn on her tongue, her lips, her jaw. Liv let out a sadistic giggle, short and mean, when she realized Roxanne wasn’t going to ease off, wasn’t going to whimper or tap out for mercy.

The taste of Liv was sharp and clean, clinging to Roxanne’s upper lip even when she moved her head just for air. There was no technicality here, no methodical pursuit of spots and rhythms. Liv didn’t want a slow tease or prolonged torture, she wanted to be devoured, now, and Roxanne, well, she’d always been good at taking a cue.

She fixed her tongue to the spot just beneath the clit, a pressure so focused it made Liv’s body jolt. Liv’s hands dug into her hair, hard, and possessive, when Roxanne skimmed her teeth lightly, the grip in her hair became tighter, which was its own kind of answer.

Liv ground herself down, not with the grace of a lover, but with the aggression of a woman who needed this entire scenario to feel like a win on every level. Roxanne made a noise once, and Liv only pressed the Latina wrestler’s face deeper, a wordless command that she could only obey.

Liv’s moan, when it came, was the sound of a body refusing to yield before it absolutely had to. “Right there,” she rasped, her voice crumbling sideways. “That’s the spot. God, keep licking, just like that. Yeah. You don’t fucking stop.”

Roxanne didn’t. She couldn’t. Liv’s grip on her head was unyielding, but it was the note of pride, something Roxanne recognized even through the haze of her own humiliation, that made her push harder with her tongue, drawing frantic circles, then flattening out, then flicking, until she felt Liv’s abs spasm beneath her forearms. Roxanne realized she’d started drooling a little, a wetness dribbling down her chin as she lapped and sucked, the sound obscene and close.

Liv started rocked her hips so hard her pubic bone nearly bruised Roxanne’s nose. “I don’t know if you’re a prodigy in the ring, but you’re definitely one when it comes to eating pussy,” she said, and then she bucked so sharply her knees nearly boxed Roxanne’s ears.

Roxanne’s world centered on the sharp taste of Liv. She barely registered the way Liv’s thighs trembled, the ragged exhale that cut through her, or the way Liv’s hips stuttered and stilled. Every nerve in Roxanne’s body tuned to survival, and what Liv wanted from her next.

Liv’s hands slid from her hair, but not out of mercy. She hooked her fingers beneath Roxanne’s chin, tilting her face up. Roxanne tried to catch her breath, eyes watering, chin slick with spit and arousal.

“Look at you,” Liv purred. “I didn’t expect you’d be this obedient.”

“I’m just doing what you asked.” Roxanne said.

“No, you’re not. You’re doing exactly what I want.”

“What’s next then?” she asked. Every bit of submission she’d shown so far was tactical, and she was in no mood to let Liv think otherwise. She said it flat, challenging, but not outright bratty. That, she suspected, was not the move with Liv.

Liv kept looking at her. “You ever been fucked by a woman before?” Liv’s voice cut the air, as if she already suspected the answer.

Roxanne shook her head, which had to be obvious, considering how rookie her face must’ve looked from between Liv’s thighs. “No.”

“Good,” Liv said. “Means you’ll remember this.”

Liv sat up, shifting her weight so every movement pressed into Roxanne’s skin, she could feel Liv’s cunt, still leaking, over her chin. There was something theatrical in the way Liv licked her own fingers, then smeared the taste across Roxanne’s lips. “Stay.”

Liv stood, unapologetically bare, and crossed the room to a duffel she’d left by the dresser. She moved with a strut that dared Roxanne to look away, though Roxanne didn’t, too stunned and too stubborn not to keep her eyes fixed and level, as if refusing to be cowed by what was about to happen.

The bag zipped open. Rummaging, clatter of plastic and something that thudded, heavy and dull, against the wood. Liv returned, a harness with a strapped on silicone cock, already threaded through her fingers.

Roxanne stepped through the leg straps. Not once breaking eye contact as she buckled herself in, cinched the straps tight with practiced flicks of her wrist, adjusted, then stood with the cock slanting out and up, a shade of pink that didn’t even pretend to be lifelike.

“Get on all fours,” Liv said. “Now.”

Roxanne moved, one knee bouncing on the mattress, then the other, before settling back, legs tucked under, hands at her sides. If Liv was waiting for a sign of resistance, she’d have to be patient. Roxanne could outwait anyone. But Liv wasn’t in a waiting mood.

Liv walked over, still wearing the harness, her hair loose. She climbed onto the bed but stayed kneeling, not looming for the sake of intimidation. She let the silence build.

Liv took her time, made a show of running her fingertips over the cock, up and back until it bobbed under her hand. “Ready?” she asked, but it was moot, Liv didn’t need or want an answer. Roxanne wasn’t sure what ready meant at this point.

Roxanne felt Liv shifting behind her, before Liv pushed her face and chest down into the mattress. Roxanne’s ass tipped up, the humiliation immediate and real.

“Look at you,” Liv said, almost to herself, not with affection but a kind of sick satisfaction. “Stay just like that.

Liv hitched her hips up behind, hand pressed flat on Roxanne’s lower back, and then she nudged the silicone cock down between Roxanne’s legs, the tip gliding over skin. The pressure was sudden and inescapable, cool at first, then burning as the head breached her. Liv didn’t go slow, not even a little, just fuckin’ jammed it in until Roxanne’s whole body kicked forward, her knees scuffing up on the sheet. The shock of it forced a gasp out of her.

Roxanne could feel Liv shifting forward, an arm curling tight around her hips, cock sinking deeper. There wasn’t a warm-up, there wasn’t even a pause. Liv just started plowing her in hard, relentless thrusts, the pace almost cruel. The bed frame bucked, mattress springs squealing in complaint. Roxanne’s thoughts scattered, each time the cock bottomed out she felt a white flare of pain that crested fast, then dissolved into a sick kind of pleasure she wasn’t ready to name.

Liv kept her palm planted on Roxanne’s lower back, grinding her hips forward with each hard thrust, one after another persistently. “God, you take it like a fucking pro,” she spat, amusement and contempt tangled in every word. The slick slap of skin on skin slapped through the room, louder even than Roxanne’s breathless moans, which were muffled by the hotel pillow Liv had shoved her face into. Roxanne tried to focus on breathing, to stay braced, but every time the cock rammed into her, pleasure and pain split down her spine and radiated, brilliant and mean, through her whole body.

“You like this, don’t you?” Liv panted, not actually asking. “Even after all that, you’re so fucking desperate to join us, you’ll do anything I say.” Another rough thrust nearly knocked the air out of Roxanne, her ass stung from the slap Liv landed as punctuation.

Roxanne’s hands pulled at the sheets for purchase and she couldn’t stop herself from pushing back, matching Liv stroke for stroke, needing every inch. Her hips burned and her face felt raw from how hard she was pressed into the mattress, but she was never going to give Liv the satisfaction of hearing her beg.

“God, I knew you were a little slut,” Liv said, and the word slut rolled off of her tongue. Liv was back in Roxanne’s ear, breath hot and shaky, “...me and Dom wondered if you were too square for this but here you are, a little whore, fuckin’ taking it just fine.”

Roxanne heard her own voice, a sound she hadn’t expected, stifled under her arm, the mattress damp against her face. Every time Liv bottomed out, the cock punched past a threshold that felt like Roxanne was being split in half.

The harness pressed cool and slick against her ass and thighs, Liv moving ruthless but controlled, never once missing the angle she seemed to know would undo Roxanne the fastest. There was something acid in the way Liv forced the pace, a desperation to extract something unspoken, or maybe just to prove a point.

Roxanne tried to bear it quietly, but the noises kept leaking out of her anyway, little grunts, breathless fucks, the sound of her own skin getting pounded. She clenched up, all of her, but the pressure only made Liv redouble her efforts. “Yeah, that’s it,” Liv hissed, and Roxanne could feel her sweat drip down her back, pooling at the base of her spine.

Liv’s rhythm was punishing. She never let up, never slowed, only changed angle and intensity, so each drive felt new and more obscene than the last. The head of the strap-on scraped an impossible place inside Roxanne, made her want to scream and claw at the bedsheets, and she did, her fingers tangled and knotted in the hotel’s cheap white linen. Her brain buzzed, ears ringing, face hot and wet with sweat.

Liv’s next words hissed, disbelieving and triumphant, “You’re dripping down your fucking thighs.” She let go of Roxanne’s hips, dug her fingers into the girl’s ass, spreading her, exposing her, and rocking the cock in deeper so the pressure built and built and built, until Roxanne’s whole body clenched and broke. Liv didn’t go easier, not for a second, just rode her through it, and every sensitive aftershock made Roxanne bite her own arm to muffle the noise.

When it became too much, Roxanne tried to squirm away, all instinct and afterburn, but Liv hauled her back against the cock, hands punishing, relentless. “You don’t decide when you get off,” Liv said with a mean demeanor, and pushed the silicone cock all the way to the hilt. Liv held it there with her bodyweight until Roxanne’s pelvis was completely filled.

Liv finally eased off, cock still buried, and ran her hand up the length of Roxanne’s spine, nails lightly dragging. The touch  was cruel, the victory pat of someone who just pinned you to the mat and waited for the three-count.

She dropped low, pressing her chest to Roxanne’s back, hair spilling in a mess that tickled her, lips ghosting over Roxanne’s ear. “You want in? This is what it takes.” Her breath was jagged, little more than a whisper. She nipped the edge of Roxanne’s ear, then thrust once more, shallow and deliberate, rolling her hips so that Roxanne shuddered.

Liv reared back and cracked her palm across Roxanne’s ass, a stinging impact that ripped through the hotel room louder than Roxanne’s muffled gasp. Heat blossomed across Roxanne’s skin, sharp and immediate, right on top of the bruising ache from the last thrust, and Liv didn’t wait to admire her handiwork, she slapped again, and again, in savage counterpoint to the machine-piston rhythm of the cock hollowing out Roxanne’s cunt.

Roxanne could taste blood, she’d just bitten her tongue that hard. The fuck was relentlessly brutal. Every time the cock withdrew, she thought there'd be a split second to recover, but Liv rammed it back in so fast there was only pain, then numbness, then the pain again, all blurred together. The slap echoed, and Roxanne’s whole ass lit up, burning hot where Liv laid her claim.

Liv started talking, not to Roxanne but at her, as if her words were another instrument of torture. “That’s what I want. Give me every fucking thing you have.” She punctuated it with another slap, and Roxanne’s arms trembled. She barely managed to keep herself upright.

Roxanne braced herself, determined not to give Liv the satisfaction, but the pounding had reduced her to sensations, a ragged heap of need and humiliation writhing under the relentless assault. Her own breath sounded desperate in her head, the wet squelch of every thrust of the strap-on amplified in the room, and the ache inside her had gone from burning out of control to something crystalline and focused that built and built with every relentless jackhammer of Liv’s hips.

Liv kept up the filthy commentary, each word a goad, a reminder that Roxanne had no power here, that she was being used, that she was being made to take it, to like it, and that was the worst of it, she did, she fucking did. Liv twisted her fist in Roxanne’s hair, yanked her head up, and spat into her open mouth, the taste of Liv’s spit as sharp and electric as the burning sweet pain between her legs. “Swallow,” Liv ordered, and Roxanne swallowed.

“Look at you,” Liv rasped, “fucking leaking. You’re leaking all over my cock, you filthy little slut.”

Liv didn’t slow, not even when Roxanne’s arms gave out and she collapsed face-first onto the mattress. The only warning came as the thrusts turned ragged, drawing out, then slamming home in erratic, broken stabs. Liv grunted low with satisfaction, fingers digging in at the base of Roxanne’s spine, holding her impaled, shaking. The room vibrated with the aftermath, heartbeat in the ears, echo of skin on skin, panting too loud for the space.

Then Liv withdrew, leaving Roxanne sore and empty, the drag of the cock scraping like an insult. The bed shifted, and Liv was off, a blur of movement as she unbuckled the harness and tossed it onto the floor, the silicone cock still slick, bouncing on the carpet with an obscene wobble. Roxanne didn’t move, not at first, just pressed the side of her face to the pillow and tried to chain together a normal breath.

Liv yanked her upright by a fistful of hair. Just a handful of hair, twisting until Roxanne’s vision swam, then hauling her off the bed in a tangle of limbs. Her knees hit the floor. The carpet scraped against her.

Roxanne felt sweat trickle down her back as she struggled to kneel upright, ribs smarting from the way Liv whipped her from the bed. The sudden downgrade in altitude drove home the point, the last few shreds of dignity stripped away.

“Look at me,” Liv said. Roxanne looked.

Roxanne waited. Of course there wasn’t going to be a thank you. She wasn’t looking for it, but some corner of her brain still expected acknowledgment for what she’d just pushed through.

“Now grab your shit and get the fuck out of my room. We’re done.”

Roxanne’s legs gave a final warning as she pushed up, finding the edge of the mattress, then fumbling for her underwear. She reached for her shorts, still bunched inside-out on the floor. Liv didn’t bother watching her.

Roxanne gathered what was left of her gear in a haphazard pile. Her hands trembled, not from pain, but from the cold emptiness that followed the comedown. The sweat between her legs was sticky, pungent, already cooling against her thighs. She looked for her phone, checked the time even though she didn’t care, then remembered to find her keycard, crumpled in the back pocket of her jeans.

Liv hadn’t spoken again, hadn’t moved from her spot on the bed, where she sprawled with all the loose-limbed satisfaction of an animal after the kill. It was nothing to do with afterglow, Liv’s face showed no trace of warmth, just that faintly devilish smirk, as if she’d proven something and found Roxanne wanting.

Roxanne wished she could hate Liv. She didn’t know if she could, not really, but she hated how badly she wanted to be hated, how little dignity she had left chained to that desire.

The door to the hallway was only a few feet away, but Roxanne froze, but she lingered, biting the inside of her cheek. She spun back to face the room, cheeks hot, throat dry as cheap hotel towels. “Liv,” she said.

Roxanne forced herself to speak, voice burned out at the edges but steady, “I want in Judgment Day, can you talk them into it. You said you had influence. Now prove it.”

Liv didn’t even look at her. The next words out of her mouth came out was pure venom. “You’ll get your answer on Monday. That’s how these things work, Roxy.”

That was it. Like Roxanne had imagined, no thank you. No approval, no validation, not even a sneer for the effort. Just next steps, clinical and efficient, as if what had happened between them was a handshake instead of something that had left her knees carpet-burned and the inside of her thighs throbbing.

Roxanne fumbled the door, hands all thumbs, and let herself out into the hallway. It felt colder than before, the AC turned up to arctic levels, or maybe her body just hadn’t adjusted yet. She walked, slow, not wanting to limp but also realizing there was no one here to see, no one to judge. The elevator at the end of the hall was a glowing square of mercy, and she would’ve almost taken the stairs just to avoid the long wait in front of a mirrored wall.

The End