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Old 15-Mar-21, 05:03
batman4life batman4life is offline
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Default Tales of the Sex Fighting League: Rebuild

“I love her.”

“She did good.”

“Not just good, babe, c’mon. Lacey killed it. She absolutely- no, wait, I’ve got the perfect word: she was….awesome! See what I did there?”

Jenny almost groaned. “Really Kate? Again?”

Her ample-breasted bestie didn’t walk that pun back, shooting her a daring look in response. “Yeah, I did it again. Because you are such a total killjoy who doesn’t like having any fun.”

“I have fun when we beat up people,” Jen commented dryly, her arms folded into her chest.

“Mmmmm….” Katie turned away from the hanging monitor in the hallway to face her best friend now, excitement in her eyes. “We do have fun with that, don’t we?”

“Not all the fun,” Jen reminded her in a somewhat suggestive tone.

Katie licked her lips. “God, you are such a tea-”

“Ladies!” From nowhere, seemingly, came Missy Robinson, accompanied by her cameraman.

Both Shock and Awe reacted with somewhat distinct reactions to the brunette interview’s sudden appearance.

For Jenny, it was the usual par for the course: mean-mugging right off the bat, a shift to more guarded body language, etc.

But for Katie, well, she was unusually cheerful as the cameraman set up in front of them with the brunette woman armed with her microphone.

A smile that dripped with the sincerity of a wild hyena.

Robinson opened first, “My producer told me to record some wrestler interviews during the commercial break for play later in the show, and I saw that you two had just finished watching the opening match. So, I was wondering if I could borrow just two minutes- maybe less, for an upcoming segment….?”

“Missy! Always an honor to be tracked down by our absolute favorite stalker!” Katie enthused, in a tone that muddled between sarcasm and jovialness. “Of course you can give my girls some more airtime for all the wannabe bitch boys watching all over the world.”

Nodding, Missy turned to Shock for her permission, receiving only a harrowing stare in return.

“Jen’s cool with it too,” Awe quickly spoke up for her partner, giving a disarming shoulder rub to somewhat calm her scowling partner.

“Great!” Cuing the cameraman to start rolling, Missy adopted a more professional tone, “Folks, I am here live and thrilled to be interviewing former SFL Tag Team Champions, Shock and Awe. I want to ask them just a few questions about their activities tonight, but before doing so, a much-deserved round of applause is due for the newest member to the main roster, Mercedes Morales…”

Jenny visibly took exception to the “former” part of their introduction, but otherwise left the responding to Awe as the interviewer got around to asking her first question, “In the first match of the night, we saw Dan Danger take on “The Machine”, another debuting star that’s joined the ranks. Now, you two personally introduced her, which certainly gives the impression that you had a little to do with her making such an impactful first impression on our screens-”

“By a little, you mean we had everything to do with it, right?” Katie smiled at her brightly.

“Oh? Would you mind giving the fans a little backstory behind that statement?”

Awe feigned a humble sigh, “Oh Missy. You have no idea how long we looked for someone. America’s Got Talent, fuck that noise, am I right? We were putting in the real work, watching tape after tape, and then…. there was only one special little flower that caught our eye. We took one look at that sexy body, and- Bam! We found the money. Didn’t we, Jen?”

Shock rolled her neck around. “Yep.”

The gloating tilt of Awe’s voice never ceased. “We knew she was good, just from her tryout. And now, the whole world knows it. All because of us. You’re welcome, world!”

“Indeed. And the Machine- I believe, Nia is her real name but, in any case, she was very impressive out there. Surely, we could spend the next few moments praising her performance, and there is a lot to touch upon there. But my next question is regarding the ultimate outcome of the match, which saw Dan Danger picking up another consecutive win against one of your handpicked opponents. What was going through your mind when the match ended, and the referee officially recognized him over Nia?”

“What was going through our minds...such a good question….” Bouncing some in place, not unintentionally accentuating her jutting cleavage some, Katie offered up a candid-ish reply, “We were a little disappointed, but only because she came sooooo close. Let’s be real, she lost by a cunt hair. Missy, do you know how long a cunt hair is?”

“Um no, I do not have that exact measurement at hand.”

“Well, it’s pretty small. As in, the size of Daniel’s little dicklet.” Both blondes shared a lewd snicker at that before Awe continued on, “Listen, Nia didn’t quite rise up to the level tonight, but that’s okay. We all gotta start somewhere and eating a little humble pie now and then never killed anyone. Certainly didn’t turn us off in the beginning and look at the total badasses we became. But I bet Danny Dipshit sure choked on his slice of the pie, huh? I mean, when was the last time that Mr. All-American got thrown around like a bitch for a change? Now that, was quality entertainment. Right Jen?”

“Damn straight,” Jenny echoed that sentiment with a slight grin.

Katie clasped her hands together with beaming delight. “So if the fans want more of Dan Danger getting his ass kicked, not to worry. Next week, we’ll have more bang for your buck. And we do mean….bang. So if he thought what we put him through up to now was a real bitch, he has no idea what kind of hell he’s in for. I don’t want to spoil things, but let’s just say we’ve already taken preemptive measures to ensure that he doesn’t get any more happy endings. How’s that for a tease?”

Missy nodded. “It works, thanks for giving us that preview. I have just one more thing to bring up, and that’s your match tonight with Tristan Twisted, Katie.”

Katie tilted her head with a quizzical look on her face. “Sorry, who’s that?”

“Tristan Twisted, your opponent for tonight?” Robinson repeated herself, only to be waived off by Awe, “Yeah yeah, I get that he has a stupid as fuck name he probably stole from some wannabe edgelord account. But again, who is he?”

Robinson once more had no adequate response, “Umm….?”

“Exactly!” Katie asserted herself with a haughty statement, “He’s nobody, I’m somebody. We are former, soon to be current tag team champions. Connecting the dots here, I don’t lose to nobodies. And later on, once I’m damn ready to go back out there, my girls will make sure he stays a nobody. How’s that for a stinger?”

The interviewer nodded her head in the affirmative.

“Good girl! Now that we’ve given you enough of an inside scoop, why don’t you and Mr. Cameraman kindly go stalk some of our lesser endowed colleagues?” Awe bid her off smilingly.

Offering the mic to Shock, who declined to give any parting words, Missy ultimately thanked them for their time with the camera feed transitioning back into the arena proper.


_______________________________


“Uggghh….fuck- fuuuck!”

The anguished cry of the Duchess was heard by just about every ear in the arena, courtesy of the built-in ring mics amplifying her currently miserable state.

Her legs kicked futilely in the air, a good foot or so off the mat while her arms were in a similarly helpless manner.

Wrapped across her naked midriff were a pair of strong, masculine forearms squeezing away at the taut contours of her stomach.

It was as effective a bearhug as there could ever be, executed by a sexfighter quite known for his upper body strength.

The Thriller.

“Fucckkk!” An agonizingly candid cry escaped her lips once more with the exerted pressure compressing around her ribcage.

“Hell. Yeah!” With every word, Greg squeezed against her more and more to maximize his strength advantage.

This had been the story for the first few minutes of the current fall: Kendra’s resilience pitted up against Greg’s persistence.

And so far, there wasn’t a clear-cut winner between them.

The Englishwoman was clearly nowhere near close to submitting, while her opponent was pouring on the pressure nonetheless in an effort to keep wearing her down.

But that stalemate would only last so long.

Gritting her teeth, the former Intercontinental Champion finally fought back with a blind elbow shot right to his face.

Landing the sharp point of her forearm right against his temple, she lashed out with a second elbow that also connected just above the eye.

A third blow stumbled the Thriller some, loosening up his grip somewhat for the Duchess to seize the reins of control.

Her first move was to reach down her midriff and grab at his interlaced fingers, weaving her own slender digits in between them and then pulling them apart.

Very painfully testing his joint flexibility, she began peeling back at his tensed digits, not showing much sympathy breaking apart his grip finger after-

“Fuck!” A grunting outburst from her opponent validated her strategy almost immediately as the male sexfighter was forced to release her from the rear body lock.

Landing on her feet, Kendra barely had to look over her shoulder to see Greg taking a step back to inspect his fingers, massaging the joints sorely while his eyes were so woefully off the ball.

With her back still to him, she made him pay by lifting her leg upwards and then extending it back in a back thrust kick.

His toned abs soundly absorbed the impact of her sole imprinting itself against his skin, nearly doubling the dark-haired man over regardless.

Smiling, the Duchess sprinted forward towards the ropes while Greg, grunting and grabbing at his stomach, was left to clamber up in her wake.

Rebounding right back into the fray, she easily dodged a fairly telegraphed clothesline from the bigger athlete, her lean, fit form ducking under the forearm and bouncing off the ropes behind him with even more building speed.

Growling in frustration, the Thriller whirled around and went to grab his foreign foe, but unfortunately for him there was nothing to grab.

Executing an effortless baseball slide, she smoothly skirted right between his legs far below his grappling reach, though her grounded evasion ended up being the least of his worries, though.

Seizing his right leg at the same time, Kendra yanked the limb out from under him to bring the male sexfighter down to her level.

Flailing down, Greg hit the mat first with his face, a disorienting impact that gave the Brit a perfect window of time to put into motion her next move.

Inserting her leg in the backside of his knee, she grabbed his ankle and promptly bent the limb back, compressing his calf much to his immediate displeasure.

“Fuck- you fucking- SHIT!” The Thriller nearly went haywire as Kendra expertly began pressing his calf against her inserted shin, now serving as a fulcrum to better concentrate the pressure.

Whatever momentary pain came from the faceplant was fastly replaced by the more searing source of pain now spreading through his lower limb.

His first move was to lift himself up off the ground and try to power out of it, a strategy that was instantly nullified by the Englishwoman simply pulling back even harsher on his compressed leg to force him back down to the mat.

Pain continued to occupy his face as she leaned back even more into the calf crusher, no doubt inflicting wave after wave of invisible agony to his knee joint with every passing second.

Bare-chested but still wearing her raven black bottoms, Kendra’s body perfectly showcased her poised, concentrated composure throughout.

Ignoring his writhing, his wild curses and sweeping arms, she was in complete control, whereas Greg found his own degree of self-control to be much thinner than he realized.

“Fuck….Fuck….. no, you bitch!” Indecision rippled through his face as he contemplated an early surrender, tentatively bringing up an open hand to smack against the mat against yet another agonizing bend of his calf against her shin.

But he stared ahead of him, and suddenly found the strength necessary to drag them both forwards.

Digging into the mat surface with his hands, he used that same strength to carry himself across the mat, covering that stretch of canvas necessary to finally reach the ropes.

And he would grip the bottom rope, albeit not before biting down a yell as Kendra looked to keep compressing his limb.

The referee made a move to step in, but the Duchess relinquished the leglock with an impatient huff.

Rising to her feet, she was already swinging one leg between the ropes and to the outside not one moment later.

Stepping onto the ring apron next, she reached back into the rope and grabbed the Thriller by the hair, guiding his head and upper body in between the top and center cables in just the ideal position for her.

His lower half was just above a crouch inside the ring when she struck.

Shouting out in a familiar cry, she rattled his jaw with a series of knee strikes, connecting just under the chin with every successive thrust of her leg.

Keeping one hand on the ropes the whole time, her form was purely methodical, raising her thigh just at the right moment where his head snapped back from the last blow to absorb even more impact.

Stopping after what seemed like the fifth or sixth consecutive blow, she took a step back to allow the Thriller to crumple back inside the ring, much worse from wear.

Wearing a solid layer of determination still, she did take a second of pause to look down on the outside to see the dark-haired woman currently giving her a death stare.

Celia.

Otherwise known as the Chiller, Greg’s sporadic tag partner and full-time girlfriend, the female sexfighter was dressed in some conservative civilian attire with her long hair barely disguising the disdainful sneer painted across her features.

Kendra smirked at her. “Enjoying the show, luv?”

“Greg’s gonna fuck your skinny ass up,” Celia mocked her with crossed arms.

“Yes, he’s certainly doing a real bang-up job of it, isn’t he?” the Duchess dryly stated, stepping back inside the ring with that same subtle smirk on her face.

Getting up to his feet with his right leg obviously still bothering him, Greg’s recovery time was interrupted once the slim Brit sauntered back into range.

“Clipped your wings too soon, have I Gregory?” Kendra mocked him, knowingly baiting the Thriller into making the first move.

“I’ll fucking clip you!” Playing right into it, Greg swung for the fences with an arcing clothesline, casting a wide net but ultimately not catching anything except the air.

But Kendra more than ran with it, sidestepping it slightly while seizing his forearm with both hands for her own use.

With one hand, she clamped around his wrist and twisted sharply in a counterclockwise motion while the other hand pushed against his armpit.

Both applied a certain amount of pressure that forced the taller and stronger man down to a knee, allowing her to keep torquing the arm away from his torso at a very uncomfortable angle.

“I’ve been awfully indecisive with my decision-making tonight, Gregory. Perhaps I could solicit an opinion from you.” She torqued back harder on the short armbar, testing his limits even more.

“...you...fuck, that fucking hurts….”

Kendra posited aloud, “See, with this particular hold, I could really do some damage to your shoulder. If you know the right pressure points, as I do…” She twisted his wrist away from him even more to demonstrate this. “Well, it would be very unpleasant for you. But I’m not a total sadist, at least for a poor bloke like you.”

Initiating another smooth transition, she folded his arm back towards his body, sliding it against the small of his back to subject him to a hammerlock.

Clasping her hand around his wrist still, she kept the pressure up on the shoulder joint but in a new but no less cruel angle, again keeping the Thriller in a kneeling position before her.

But with this little armlock, however, it left her other arm free to do as it pleased, including…

“No, I can be quite the people-pleaser when I want.” Reaching around his side, she slithered her potent digits into his trunks and felt his manhood.

Allowing herself a few seconds to grow familiar with his dormant sleep, she promptly fished it out into the open much to the delight of many of the female fans in attendance.

“So tell me Gregory, do you enjoy just the pain, the horrible agony only I am capable of giving you? Or…” Her smile grew sly as she began stroking his cock with her dominant hand, pumping up and down his stalk with gliding, well-practiced motions. “Do you prefer a little wank for your troubles?”

He stiffened up at the continued fondling of his manhood, for him a welcome contrast to the harsh manner in which his right arm was currently being treated.

Kendra’s soft grasp over his cock was only complimented by her hot breath caressing the back of his neck, giving him even more womanly stimulation.

He shook his head with an anguished noise as she massaged his growing hardness even more, her tempo refined and in tune with her wrist motions.

“I think you prefer this option,” she whispered at him, starting to focus on his tip now with her fingertips.

While Greg had managed to endure her sliding her palm from tip to base, he was giving quite a telling reaction as she rubbed knowingly at the sensitive underside of his cock.

“...shit, not in front of C,” he grunted to himself, the focused stimulation of his prick obviously drawing his lover’s ire towards both of them.

But Kendra went along with it. “Oh, why not? A good wank here and there never hurt anyone, quite the opposite, really. And I’m sure Celia wouldn’t mind learning a few pro tricks for home use.”

She gave a teasing kiss along the nape of his neck while her hand continued stroking down his rigid length with a level of mastery expected for someone so experienced in the craft.

And for the Thriller, who was noticeably less experienced than the foreigner, this left him with very few options, most of them undesirable, while others…

“....off me!” Greg suddenly reached behind him to snatch her around the hair, employing a frantic burst of energy to yank her forwards and toss her to the ground with his libido starting to really respond to her erotic massage.

But he ended it right there with the impromptu hair pull freeing his body from her control, at least for the moment.

Rolling over on her shoulder, the Duchess rose to her feet without much fuss.

Honing back towards her still kneeling opponent, she reached down to grab him by the hair when the Thriller surprised the UK-born sexfighter with a sudden shoulder thrust right to her stomach.

Catching her at the exact right angle, Greg sorely stretched out his right arm while Kendra nearly had to take a knee herself after walking right into his possum play.

But she would endure a far more devastating attack as the Thriller reached between her legs with one hand while slipping his other against her neck.

Scooping the woman up off the mat so that she was horizontal with his chest, he briefly stood up at his full height before finally dropping her stomachfirst right over his outstretched knee.

The Duchess immediately cried out following the gutbuster, rolling off his exposed kneecap and clutching at her midriff while Greg fell back at the same time to recover.

Scooting back, he retreated to a corner where he could safely tuck his cock back inside his trunks while watching the Brit reach another corner on the opposite side of the ring.

The crowd of course booed, but the Thriller was far more attuned to hearing one distinct voice above them all.

Stalking over to his position at ringside, Celia hissed urgently at him, “Clobber the fuck out of her, now babe!”

Using the ropes to pull himself up, Greg complained, “Bitch almost broke my fingers. Is that shit even legal?”

“Screw what’s legal. Fuck her shit up,” Celia ordered him, her commanding tone ultimately forcing Greg to ignore his current woes and refocus on the task at hand.

Seeing the Duchess bring herself up, he got up to his feet and cleared his head before takeoff.

Launching out of the corner, he made a mad dash towards the Englishwoman, all caution put aside as he ramped up the speed….

… ultimately running into her bare foot instead of his true, intended target.

Anticipating his charge from the second he got up, she also played possum to lure him right into a defensive kick that connected her heel against his chin.

Staggered in place, Greg fought off the dizzy spell but not much else with his opponent easily able to secure the same wrist once more.

Leaning back against the turnbuckle, she raised herself up on the middle rope with a simple push, twisting his arm to force his compliance in her sudden ascent.

Having also secured the interest of the crowd, she continued to rise up, eventually balancing one foot up on the top rope.

A very precarious place to be in, but one that Kendra was going to travel to nonetheless.

Keeping all the eyes on her, the Duchess started to place some weight up on that raised leg but the Thriller showed his quick thinking by throwing his own weight against the cable she was halfway standing on.

Thrown offbalance with a yelp, the Brit ended up crotched on the turnbuckle pad right at the most delicate part of the setup.

Celia was certainly pleased to see her boyfriend acting fast there, encouraging him with positive words as he freed his wrist with no resistance by the Englishwoman.

Touching his mouth where her foot had impacted, he ended up bracing a boot up on the bottom rope while roughly grabbing her by the head.

Forcing the British sexfighter into a front facelock, he positioned his other foot on the second rope for better stability before lifting the Duchess up into a vertical position.

Not even needing to go up fully, Greg managed with the leverage he had, falling back down to the mat with Kendra going with him.

The ring registered the sizable thud of bodies as the Thriller delivered an elevated vertical suplex right out of the corner.

Greg, the only one of the two in control over his landing, was quick to roll over on his back and crawl towards the ropes for support while Kendra took noticeably longer to get beyond her initial writhing and wincing phase.

Feeling up against her spine, her suffering expression was prime for viewing up on the JumboTron as the Thriller made his way over to where his girlfriend was at ringside.

“Was that fucking cool or what?” he beamed at her, on his hands and knees now as he leaned his head outside the ropes.

“C’mere and I’ll show you.” Leaning in to caress his cheeks with both hands, Celia started making out with her tag partner to even more boos from the crowd, as well as drawing an annoyed look from the referee before she went to check up on the Duchess.


***


“Ah, young love. Nothing brings together two souls more than like watching your beloved inflict pain and suffering upon someone else.”

“Hey, every couple’s got their thing. And if it helps to improve Greg’s performance especially after the clean sweep he lost last week to Chelsea Cheer, well, more to him,” Kevin admitted.

“True, that young man’s definitely looking for a course-correction tonight. But for his sake I hope he’s focused less on his girlfriend and more so on the woman he’s actually got a date with here and now,” George pointed out to him. “Kendra is tough as they come, but she also knows the human body like very few do in this industry. If he gets a little lax on defense, maybe a little too presumptive with his offensive beats, the Duchess is going to seriously mess him up.”

Nodding as the Duchess finally started to rouse and roll over on her belly, his partner remarked, “Don’t forget the incentive. Last week, Kendra and Hunter did defeat Mandy and Kim- albeit by DQ but still- to secure her spot in the Intercontinental Title Tournament. The lineup has officially been updated on the website to include her, but it will not reflect well on her if she comes out of this match the loser and gives that shine to the Thriller.”

“It wouldn’t, but I’d be remiss if we didn’t also mention her stamina. This is just the first fall, remember. So even if Greg is tight with his attacks and manages to either submit or coax an orgasm out of her, he’s gonna have to keep operating at that same level to get the job done for a second time, and a third if necessary….”


***


Standing up following his mid-match smooch with the Chiller, Greg felt a new wave of confidence wash over him.

Flexing out his fingers some, he sauntered over towards the crawling Duchess, speeding up his final steps to cut her off from reaching the ropes.

“Don’t know what you were planning up there in the corner, but I got one word for you, Kendra.” Seizing a fistful of hair once more, he dragged her towards him in a rising kneel. “Suplex.”

Squeezing her head under his armpit again, he slung one of her arms over his shoulder and launched her up and over in a vertical suplex.

Her lower back painfully felt the mat first as they both landed, causing her to cry and kick her heels against the canvas following the impact.

“And…..again.” Forcing her up so that he was behind her, the Thriller placed one of her arms in a half nelson while the other grabbed around her waist.

Falling backwards, he tossed her overhead with such force that Kendra actually flipped over mid-air to land on her belly instead of her neck.

The mat registered the thudding impact as the Brit’s sternum was cushioned by the unsympathetic mat.

Continuing to grab at her stomach, she groaned agonizingly against the mat as Greg sat up, a wide smile carved across his face at the audible damage he was inflicting thus far on the former Intercontinental Champion.

But despite how pleased he was currently, his girlfriend continued to push him on the outside, “Stay on her, Greggy. I want that bitch tapping before you fuck her.”

He leered over his shoulder at the stirring brunette. “Can’t argue with that.”

Pulling himself up, he hooked his arms around hers to peel the Duchess off the ground as well.

Getting her into a single underhook to hold her upright, he pumped a combination of swift knee thrusts of his own into her exposed belly.

Sinking in one after the other, Greg only seemed content with the distribution of pain when the Duchess collapsed down to a kneeling position, reeling from the torso abuse.

Glad to show off even more to his lover, he effortlessly hauled the slim woman up to her feet and gave a dismissive shove backwards to put her up against the corner.

Taking a step or two back to set himself up, he waited until she was at least partially standing against the turnbuckle before charging forwards to deliver a running shoulder thrust just to cap it all off.

Charging her like a football player plowing his way into the end-zone, he threw himself fully into the move once he was close enough to connect- only he didn’t connect against flesh and bone.

Using the ropes to throw herself out of harm’s way, she successfully avoided contact as his shoulder instead rammed right into the metal ringpost!

The momentum worked against him, and moreover in Kendra’s favor as she staggered around to his blindside.

“Shit! Shit Greg, get the fuck out of there!” Celia screamed at him with urgency, though in her warning she failed to disclose what would happen when he did in fact extricate himself from the corner.

Pulling his upper body clear, he was taken off his feet almost immediately by a swift chop block right to the back of his right knee.

Crying out at the violent manner the foreign sexfighter took him from behind, the Thriller had no choice but to buckle and ultimately collapse down at his severed foundation.

And now, the crowd was voicing their support for the Duchess as she grabbed him around the ankle and relied upon a surprising degree of upper body strength to drag the male sexfighter a few good feet away from the ropes.

“Fuck! Fuck…” His tag partner already had her hands on her hair just watching Kendra kick him over on his back before resuming her in-ring dissection.

“Do you have another word for me, luv, or will ‘ouch’ be the standard going forward?” Smirking at her own mirthless humor, the Brit lashed out with a kick right to the back of his right knee, and then came down on that same leg with an elbow drop right on his calf muscle!

Greg’s face contorted into pure agony as she came back up with a renewed grip over his ankle.

Tucking it under her arm, she now committed to turning the bigger man over on his belly to implement a single-leg Boston crab!

Wincing heavily at the way she was already adding slight pressure to his limb, he fought the movement by flailing his arms and twisting his hips against her.

“I appreciate you making this more competitive for me but I really do insist!” Kendra laughed at him, almost exhilarated at his defiance.

But she stomped out that defiance quite literally by bringing her other foot down on his sternum a good three or four times to properly wind him.

Gasping out as the stomps briefly got the better of him, his now wheezing state allowed the submission specialist to turn the Thriller over more easily on his back for full effect.

Though he greatly outweighed her either way, the female sexfighter was able to negate this advantage by kneeling her shin down over his bent knee, still torquing back but with her own weight added to the leglock.

“SHIT!!” Greg shouted out with almost surreal realization at this new wave of pain spreading up his spine and even hamstring.

Pushing up on his palms, he immediately made a beeline towards the ropes, once again dragging Kendra with him on his agonizing journey towards freedom.

With his upper body doing almost all of the work, he seemed to be making decent headway despite the considerable amount of pressure she was still putting on his lower half.

The more and more that Kendra leaned back, the more he shouted and cursed and otherwise twisted in physical anguish.

“C’mon Greggy, get there! You’re so close, so fucking close!” Celia pleaded with him, fitting nicely in a minority of people at that arena that didn’t want to see the Thriller tap out.

By far, the majority of fans were screaming for it, and their wish was almost granted a few times as Greg sporadically raised his hand as if to tap.

However, all those gestures were ultimately all for naught once the male sexfighter reached the rope again, resulting in a resounding round of disappointment with the referee tasked with breaking up the submission.

Out of respect for the rules, the Englishwoman obliged, letting go of his leg and subsequently allowing him a mandated few seconds’ respite.

A few seconds too many, in her eyes.

Circling back to him with her hips conveying her narrowed focus, the Duchess ignored the rather petulant shouts of his girlfriend while reaching down to cup him around the chin.

Bringing the Thriller up and to his feet, she turned to the side and sliced across his chest first with a swift, blink-and-miss-it knife edge chop.

The crowd responded accordingly as Greg lurched back against the ropes, his right pectoral immediately showing her blistering handprint.

Lining him up, she struck him again with the same open-handed chop to a similar result before finally gripping his wrist tight.

Pushing off of his reeling form, she went to Irish whip him into the ropes, but her launchoff was immediately countered by Greg looping his other arm around the cables to keep his anchor.

Shaking his head in defiance, he succumbed to a gut kick in swift retaliation that loosened his grip enough for Kendra to operate.

Able to finally launch him forwards, she sent him forwards only for the Thriller to loop right back around and yank her to him using the same momentum.

She expected a reversal, but the male sexfighter bucked that expectation and simply lifted her up by the legs.

Turning quickly to put his back to the ropes, he fell backwards to throw the Duchess neckfirst into the top strand.

Celia cheered enthusiastically as her boyfriend delivered a modified flapjack that instantly dropped the Englishwoman in a coughing fit.

Grabbing at her windpipe, she went level with the mat with her feet furiously beating against the mat.

Cruel tactics, perhaps, but one needed a degree of cruelty in order to stand toe-to-toe with the at-times ruthless Brit.

Finding himself limping on the leg she had just torqued for a solid minute or so, he stumbled around the ring but eventually came back to finish the job.

“Gotcha now….” Seizing her by the neck, he secured a single underhook to help bring the topless woman up fully to a standing position.

Bending his knees slightly, he hoisted her up on his shoulders in a fireman’s carry, again sparking much applause from the Chiller.


***


… though a much different response from the announcers.

“Going right to the silver bullet in his chamber right in Fall 1. I would’ve figured he’d have saved that for later on but do what you gotta do to keep the vet down, I suppose.”

Kevin’s eyes were keenly watching the Thriller’s obvious limp as he marched back towards the center of the ring.

“I can appreciate the can-do attitude, but I question his logic going all-out when his foundation seems compromised. You take risks with just about every move you throw in there, but well, I dunno. Guess we’ll see.”


***


That sentiment was not shared by the male sexfighter now beginning the initial rotations of his signature airplane spin.

Stabilizing his stance somewhat, the Thriller focused simply on putting the ultimate spin of disorientation on the Duchess to last the entirety of the fall.

What started off well enough….

… almost immediately took a nosedive as Kendra maneuvered her body around in mid-air to wriggle right out of his grasp.

With the agility of a circus acrobat, the slim Brit slithered down his back with both arms seizing his thighs on the way down.

Greg yelped out with surprise as her sensual yet sharp fingernails dug deep into his flesh, driving him backwards to the mat in spite of his flailing arms.

Celia’s proud, borderline haughty attitude unraveled right before her very eyes as the Duchess popped up from the sunset flip, once more in possession of her opponent’s right leg.

And the glint in her eyes now was like a big game hunter finally closing in on his prey.

Performing a spinning toe hold around his caught leg, she grasped his other ankle and crossed it together into a “4” formation.

Then, she fell to the mat in a controlled manner, pressing down on his calf beneath her kneecap to cinch in her signature submission hold: the figure 4.

“Fuck- fuuuck!” Greg immediately broke into a writhing fit as Kendra leaned back to watch his reaction.

A reaction she had seen in a hundred previous sexfighters to fall to her leglock.

Even better now with another sexfighter to witness it at ringside.

Pursing her lips together, she levered the pressure even more by lifting her hips, quickly cranking the pain levels past any reasonable pain threshold for the Thriller.

And he recognized that fact with grimacing acknowledgment, tapping out with a frantic hand just as the referee took a knee beside him.

Releasing him from the devastating submission, the Duchess coolly rose up with a cocky toss of her hair.

Turning on her heel, she was already halfway back to her corner as the ring announcer boomed out, “Winner of the first fall with a figure 4 leglock submission...THE DUCHESS!!”

Grabbing at his knees, the Thriller couldn’t retreat fast enough towards the ropes, prompting his girlfriend to stalk over to him with plenty on her mind, no doubt.

And while he received an earful, the commentators weighed in accordingly.


***


“Man, Kendra sure pumped the emergency brakes on that Thrill Ride before it could even get going. You can’t blame him too much; Greg had the right idea but was trying to execute it at the wrong time, ultimately to his own detriment. That flapjack off the ropes wasn’t quite the strong leadin that it needed to be, and well, we see now why,” George gave his input first.

“We also see why ring psychology is so freakin’ important here. The size of the opponent is important, but his ability to protect his bases is even more critical. And unfortunately for Thriller, once the Duchess started focusing in on his lower body, every big move he wanted to pull out was doomed from the start. I don’t anticipate him changing styles completely with some ground game, but then again, maybe he’s got an advantage against Kendra if he’s smart enough to utilize it.”

While the Brit was calmly and almost leisurely enjoying the rest period with her back to the turnbuckle, her two adversaries- one official and the other unofficial, were exchanging words on the opposite side of the ring.

George could take a guess at that. “His partner?”

“Two heads is always better than one, especially when one of them is probably half-concussed from all those knee strikes,” Kevin confirmed with a nod. “Celia can feed him strategy, new angles to come at the former IC Champ. But that’s all contingent on him actually putting all that advice into good practice, and I have my doubts based on his performance thus far.”

“That I can agree with. No matter how this match turns out, though, I think it’s in both competitors’ best interest to give it their all and hold nothing back. For Kendra, we know that the champ’s watching, and probably taking lots of notes. But for Thriller, well, who knows what doors might open with a potential upset…”


***


Fortunately, the suspense built up in the air would be paid off by the ringing of the bell for a second time.

The subtle differences between them became more pronounced as the two competitors were drawn back together by the referee.

Kendra’s composure- calm and calculated with barely a hint of fatigue, was even more obvious to the fans when captured in the same camera frame as Greg’s almost wounded posture.

The damage done to his right leg had not yet subsided, forcing him to walk forth with a limp and a recurring grimace on his face seemingly with every step he took.

Celia was continuously shouting encouragement at her dark-haired lover, but her verbal motivation could only help so much against the physical damage already inflicted.

The two circled each other again, the banter between them relatively understated for the time being, and for good reason.

Kendra was firmly rooted in her ring confidence, bordering on cockiness the more she honed in on his limping leg like an apex predator eyeing her prey.

The Thriller, though usually very brash and outspoken, kept his lips sealed, and his stance open to grapple.

Edging closer, they tightened the circle until finally they were close enough to initiate contact.

Briefly dipping down, Greg went for a tackle to sweep the Duchess off her feet, though his lunging surge was easily countered by the veteran sidestepping him with a swift, evasive movement.

Tumbling through the air in a stumbling misfire, Greg came in contact with the turnbuckle instead.

Reeling back as his sternum hit the padding first, he turned around just in time to receive another dazing blow in the form of a high knee right to the chin!

Building up an amazing amount of speed within a relatively short distance, Kendra’s raised strike struck true, knocking him back against the corner.

Coming down from leveraging one foot on the bottom rope to secure her elevation on the blow, she grabbed his neck in a headlock formation.

Facing the center of the ring, she started forward to go for a bulldog, launching herself into the air for the momentum- only her feet never came back down to earth.

Instead, her opponent revealed his strength and wrapped his arms around her waist to regain control of the exchange.

And while he was in control, that control was nowhere near set in stone.

Immediately, Kendra kicked out with her legs as he outmuscled her attempted bulldog and now seemed prime to deliver a back suplex.

But with his lower half far from stable, he couldn’t quite come through on the delivery while withstanding her resisting mid-air movements.

So instead, he staggered back a few unsteady steps before he went to dump her over the top rope and to the outside.

A surprised grunt from the Duchess followed next, but the brunette woman didn’t fall to a painful landing down on the padded floor.

Whether it was luck or pure instinct, one of her hands snagged the middle rope, negating most of the intended impact while keeping her at least partially tethered to the ring.

A wave of relief rippled through the arena as the slim sexfighter reaffirmed her grip on the cables by placing both hands on the strand to lift herself up.

Rising up on the ring apron, she saved herself from one particular nasty fate, but that didn’t make the Englishwoman home free just yet.

While she was recovering, Greg hit the opposite set of ropes, building an adequate speed up to forcefully knock her to the outside.

His strategy was sound enough, though the execution was yet another misfire.

Throwing herself to the side just as he thrust his shoulder between the top and middle ropes, she evaded danger by the slimmest of margins.

And the Thriller did not, however, evade his fair share of it when the Duchess rallied back with an emphatic step-up knee thrust that connected right under the jawline.

Catching him right as he stuck his head out in the vulnerable space outside the ring, it sent him groggily backtracking inside the squared circle with his footing even more wobbly.

Going from staggering to tumbling over on his back, he sorely felt up his jawline, sparking another supportive burst of applause in favor of the former Intercontinental Champion.

Rubbing the smooth, pale skin of her kneecap, she leered down at Celia who was none too happy at the developments so far.

“....fucking cunt,” the Chiller growled up at her, her expression cross and hostile.

Swinging one leg back inside the ring, Kendra told her with a shrug, “The successful ones usually are around here. But not to worry, luv. I’ll show him plenty of lover-like treatment before this is all over.”

That didn’t do much to calm the nerves of the American sexfighter, but it did bring a slight smirk to the face of the Duchess now that she was inside the ring and stalking intently back towards the regrouping, kneeling Thriller.

Coming upon him a second later, she seized him first by the chin, rearing back with her other hand to deliver a-

“Uggghh…!” What happened next was a sudden and desperate headbutt by Greg that hit her right in the stomach, the top of his skull containing just enough hard, disorienting force to nearly double over the Englishwoman.

Gasping out sharply as the unblocked shot to her windbags registered more like a hammer to the gut, she nearly flirted with taking a knee while the Thriller rose now and took the reins.

Seizing her around the neck, he forced the slim woman first into a gutwrench position, and then lifted her up high before she could collect herself.

Positioning her overhead on his right shoulder so that her head was pointing in the direction was currently facing, Greg linked his arms around her face-up torso.

Her limbs became active with thrashing resistance once the setup was completed, and the period of searing agony began.

Celia was nearly beside herself in delight as the Thriller pressed down on her stomach with his interlocked fingers, compressing the toned flesh of her stomach while the broad surface of his shoulder jarred her spine at the same time.

She let out an excruciating cry as the pressure mounted, putting a hyperextending bend on her vertebrae once the male sexfighter started bouncing slightly up and down as an added element to the bodily torture.

Her long legs kicked out, but she couldn’t buck her weight enough to escape the backbreaker rack.

She could only remain painfully draped over his shoulder, and writhe around the longer and longer her back endured the unnatural contortion of his maneuver.

But thankfully, the hold was not thoroughly sustainable.

Making sure his fingers were clenched tightly around her belly button, the Thriller finally dropped down on his knees, flexing her spine with the impact of the drop as one final measure of punishment.

Flopping off his shoulder with a sharp cry, she immediately went facedown on the mat with her feet furiously kicking into the mat.

He winced out at the mutual pain they both shared as a result of pulling the move off.

For Kendra, the discomfort was clearly spread over her spinal cord, while he had to massage the shoulder that just dealt said damage.

Rolling around the shoulder joint, he pulled himself up with one hand bracing on the small of her back.

Eventually, that hand moved up to grip the back of her raven locks, slowly summoning the pain-wracked Brit off of the mat.

“C’mon, c’mon…” Mentally psyching himself up, he got both hands around her slender wrist, and, after one peering glance over his shoulder, suddenly whipped her to the corner turnbuckle with a reinforced push of momentum.

Nearly going down to a knee, he shot her off like a rocket, and then stood by to watch the explosion from a safe distance.

Hurtled into the corner with no way to slow her acceleration, Kendra instinctively turned to take the impact of the turnbuckle padding on her back, but that mid-stride repositioning hurt just as much, if not more, than a frontal collision.

Crashing into the corner, she collapsed facefirst into the canvas as soon as the ringpost gave a violent buckling sound against her exposed sound.

Her dark hair concealed whatever agonizing mask was no doubt twisting her facial expression, accentuated by her still kicking feet.

On his knees, the Thriller crawled towards the downed Duchess with a growing smile etching across his face.

“Get her, babe. Fuck her up!” the Chiller cawed approvingly, practically salivating at the Englishwoman’s audible misery.

“Oh I’m gonna fuck her, alright….” Latching on to her wrist once more, he dragged her back towards the middle of the ring, away from the ropes.

Crouching on her side, he ran his masculine hand over the slim curvature of her lower back, eventually slipping his fingers underneath her waistband. “I’m gonna fuck her real good.”

Without any further ado, he stripped the slim Brit of her traditional black bottoms, unveiling her pale posterior much to the roaring applause of the spectators.

Tossing it aside, he quickly followed suit, reaching into his trunks and fishing out his manhood for its “official” in-ring use.

Kendra was still recovering from the consecutive attacks on her back, but now she felt a different kind of tingle run up her spine.

Namely the phallic blade of his cock teasing down her exposed buttcheeks, teasing its way into the rear entry of her womanhood.

“Feel that?” Greg breathed down with a raunchy smirk, stroking his dick while taunting her. “That’s 8 inches, solid. No fucking pills, all natural.”

He rolled his neck around in smug anticipation, masturbating himself until he was satisfied that he could sustain his cock’s hardened shape.

“Oh, I thought I felt a little bit of a knob back there,” came her coy response.

“Yeah, you thought, skinny bitch. Now guess what?” Reaching down, he seized her by the hair and yanked her up ruthlessly so that they were nearly level with each other.

“You’re about to get railed, Kendra. And when I’m done, you’re gonna be so fucking horny you’ll never want to get off this ride,” he promised her with renewed confidence, continuing to intertwine his fingers with her raven locks while positioning his lower half in the best way to properly take her.

“Teach her how it gets done, babe,” Celia leered at ringside.

He smirked, “Oh yeah, you’re gonna learn tonight, you flat-chested, bony little cu-Uggghh!!”

The sharp end of Kendra’s elbow entered his mouth from the right side, interrupting his smug declaration and promptly ruining the mood right then and there.

Recoiling at her back elbow, he fell back by the wayside, granting the Duchess a very convenient get-out card from whatever rear pounding he had in mind.

Rolling over on her stomach, she blew locks of hair out of her vision, both ears intentionally deaf to the incessant shouting of his girlfriend.

“Word of advice, teacher.” Sitting up, she got one leg under her and started to push up. “When you’re about to fuck someone, don’t tell them. Just do it.”

Scoffing at her ever-present sarcastic wit, Greg seemed more concerned at the moment. on the line of crimson trickling down his lower lip.

“Fuck, you made me bleed,” he snarled out, getting his legs under him as well.

“Yes, I tend to do that to people,” she drawled right back at him, her eyes subtly locking on his cock, still hanging out of his trunks and in desperate need of something to hold it in place.

“...yeah, well fuck that!” Lunging at her with fire in his eyes, the Thriller went for an ambitious grab- perhaps too ambitious, on second thought.

Spotting his body shift from a mile away, Kendra had already darted around him and had initiated a counter just as he gripped a handful of nothing.

Going down on one knee, she slipped one arm between his legs and pulled him backwards so that he fell over her and flat on his back.

Floating on top to stack his legs up in a leveraged pinning position, the Duchess already had one hand gripping his cock and the other wrapped around the inside of his thigh before he even knew what was happening.

And now that he could look up and see, well, the Thriller’s words weren’t coming to him as easily as before.

“I can also do this…” Her voice rang out like smooth honey as it was accompanied by her resumed wanking of his manhood, massaging it firmly yet with those flirty, fluttering motions that only came naturally with time.

Greg’s eyes bulged open as she had his sexual extension aimed right back at him, the cannon now turned against its master.

Keeping her palm in a tight shape as it pumped his meat from root to tip, she added in the appropriate cooing sound effects with his groin warming quickly to her expert touch.

“Has little Willie been jealous of all the attention I’ve been giving your other body parts?” she purred at him, seeing and definitely hearing the precum slicked across his foreskin. “Oh yes, he’s quite excitable now. I think he fancies my hand just gliding up and down, like this…”

Greg stiffened up at the way her thumb teased at his crown, making the veins on his foreskin grow even more visible as they strained to hold back his load.

“...or maybe he wants me to feel just how big his bollocks are.” Pursing her lips together, Kendra tilted her chin downwards to plant a tender kiss on his testicles, teasing him with more oral exploration just with her sultry eyes alone.

But as tantalizing as all that sounded, the Thriller wasn’t quite ready to throw in the towel just yet.

With a sudden cry, he kicked out with both legs to free himself from her handjob-infused rollup pin.

The disappointment of the crowd couldn’t be measured with the bare-chested man scrambling, or at least trying, to scramble up to his feet.

Smirking at the cameras, Kendra kept her professional composure as she rose up to follow her crawling, audibly winded opponent.

Of course, a sizable reason for his reeling demeanor was still hanging erect between his legs, flapping around with every movement taken much to the amusement (and even arousal) of many members in the crowd.

“Don’t tell me Willie has gotten a sudden case of shyness. That would be unfortunate.” Now Kendra was just playing with him. “But not as unfortunate as the look your lover is giving you right now, Gregory. I suspect she’s none too pleased with your performance so far.”

Gripping the middle rope, the Thriller felt a surge of emotions run through him.

That last jab provoked an immediate reaction from him, one that Kendra anticipated without even uttering a word more.

“Babe, don’t let her talk to you like that,” his partner admonished him, the final straw broken.

Rounding back on her, the male sexfighter swung for the fences in an emotionally charged lariat.

The veteran dodged the blow with a simple sidestep, barely registering anything past the rushed breeze of air that caressed her face.

Spinning around almost in a daze, he tried for yet another clothesline once he estimated her to be in his sights once more.

And again, Kendra ducked with ease and a Plan B already in motion.

Keeping on his blindside until he finally turned to face her, the Duchess struck and struck hard with yet another knife edge chop to the sternum.

A followup strike commanded an even louder Woooo! from the crowd, sending him careening back into the ropes.

Intensifying her glare with a concentrated toss of her hair, she went up on her toes to rock him with a solid European uppercut to the jaw for finality.

His feet nearly went first, a potential pratfall through the ropes only avoided when Kendra reached out to grab his wrist.

Keeping him inside the ring wasn’t just for his benefit; it was wholly necessary for her grand finale.

“Babe, snap out of it! Snap...snap out of it! Babe!?” Celia was calling, but no one seemed to be home for the Thriller as he was guided out of the ropes and towards a nearby corner.

Twisting under his arm to subject him to another wristlock mid-walk, Kendra was in complete dominion over that limb as she felt her back up against the turnbuckle, prompting her to start climbing up without hesitation.


***


“Wow, she really sunk that last forearm in. And now we have- oh, this is a real oldie, folks. Something I don’t think she’s busted out I don’t think since…..well, Kev, your brain isn’t as old as mine. When was the last time Kendra went up high like that?” George pointed at the almost astounding image of the naked woman scaling up to the top rope, still holding on to Greg’s arm as her leveraging tool.

“Your guess is as good as mine, but I can tell you it wasn’t recent. She must have a reason for this little callback to unleash it now and in the thick of battle. And I’m pretty sure that reason has blonde hair and a shoe closet bigger than most people’s apartments…”


***


Celia’s shouting barely did anything to penetrate Greg’s groggy demeanor as his arm was still held by the Duchess who was not only balanced perfectly on the top rope, but now chanced fate even more by actually walking on the cable itself.

Mimicking a trapeze artist on a tightrope, her nimble feet didn’t slip once as they crossed one after the other along the thick line of metal beneath her.

Collective awes swept through the crowd as she finally stopped halfway across, turned to face the Thriller, and then brought down Late Night in Liverpool.

Leaping off the cable, she delivered a punishing elbow to his shoulder, landing impactfully across his deltoid muscle.

He cried out sharply before crumpling down to the ground just as suddenly.

She landed on her feet; he landed facefirst on the mat with his upper body wracked in too much pain and misery to adequately manage.

Kendra barely even lost her breath during the entire ascent and climatic descent.

Celia, however, was nearly screaming herself hoarse trying to coax a last-second comeback out of her boyfriend.

But there was no comeback left in him, especially seeing how he was grabbing painfully at his shoulder.

He had nothing….except of course what Kendra could still take from him.

“Still want to get up and have a go at me?” She leered down, tilting her head to the side.

Finding that he didn’t- or at least couldn’t, at the moment, rise to her challenge, she let out a satisfied breath and turned him over on his back.

Greg gave an anguished, obviously angry grunt as she planted one foot over his sternum, painting a pretty dominant picture right there for everyone to see.

“You…you broke my shoulder,” he vented at her angrily.

“They always think that...” Her hands on her hips, she addressed him in a leering tonne, “Please, luv, I’m not that careless. The only thing I needed broken, Gregory, was your spirits. And since I don’t envision an 11th hour resurgence out of you, well…”

Descending down on him, Kendra sat her naked crotch down on his waistline, facing his legs. “Let’s finish off Willie, shall we?”

Playfully flicking his hardened shaft about with a curious finger, she applied more serious strokes to get it at the right stage and then scooted up.

“Ah fuck, fuck me!” The Thriller’s defeated grunt turned to an even more defeated moan as she slid her pussy down over his cock without sheathing it at all within her feminine warmth.

Deciding on a more...cinematic end to the contest, the Duchess stimulated the erotic gyrations of a reverse cowgirl mount while her pussy lips grinded against his already weak dick.

Conquering him using the friction caused by their two bodies coming together, she had a perfect read on his sexual pulse just by the way his cock throbbed up against her wet cunt.

“I hate to disappoint you, luv, but I don’t hand out pussy like free ice cream. Some privileges must be earned here….” Rocking her hips back and forth at an increasing rate, she turned to lock eyes with him. “But you did show promise tonight, and a competitive rival makes for an even more rewarding victory. So I’ll let you indulge in what I’m giving you.”

“Nnnphh….fuuuck.”

“Oh you’re quite welcome!” Swiveling down on his captive manhood, Kendra gave his girlfriend one last cheeky wink before her opponent climaxed.

A generous eruption of cum drenched her bottom and dripped down her thighs with buck after buck of his hips.

The crowd was already cheering the visible show of Greg’s orgasmic surrender on the big screen, and the ringing of the bell only made it official.

One last, drawn out pelvic slide against his slick and thoroughly milked cock was the final beat of satisfaction before the Duchess rose up off of him.

Celia’s expression was, to say the absolute minimum, not happy at all.

But the official’s decision was final, and it was immediately relayed by the ring announcer: “Ladies and gentlemen, winner of the second fall with a pussygrind submission….and winner of the match…”

The referee raised the slim Brit’s hand in recognized victory. “....THE DUCHESS!!!”

Greg dejectedly rolled over on his stomach, the gravity of yet another loss setting in while of course his girlfriend dealt with it in her own way.

Namely petulant shouting and slamming her palm against the ring apron in frustration.

Reaching behind her back to massage some of her lower discs, she saw the referee go and fetch a towel, which then brought the matter of her post-match tribute to the forefront.

“....did we have fun tonight, luv?” Kendra turned with a smile at the now kneeling Thriller, his hand almost sheepishly stroking at his dick as he was caught right in the act of checking out her bare ass from behind.

His cheeks were almost as red as the crimson blotches her chops had left across his sternum.

“Whatever.” He tried to come off dismissive yet accepting of his fate, something that only amused the Duchess even more.

“I commend you on the effort, Gregory. You almost made me sweat for a second there.” Sauntering towards him, she touched his cheek with one hand, fingers tracing his jawline while she draped one slender yet deceptively strong leg over his shoulder.

“Now that I’ve said something nice, why don’t you get that lovely tongue out, and give me something nicer in return,” Kendra commanded him in a softer, huskier purr.

He could huff all he wanted, but she only had to shoot him a single glare potent enough to melt a steel beam before he leaned forward between her legs and nuzzled his mouth up against her feminine maw.

Kendra threw back her hair and drank in the moment like a cool, refreshing beverage as his tongue adoringly ran up the flavored sweetness of her pussy.

Gripping his hair with a somewhat firm hand, she stabilized herself as his wet, lapping organ danced against her fluttering folds before delving even deeper into her dewy pleasure hole.

“Mmmm! Yes, now we’re getting somewhere….” A slight quiver trembled her articulate tone, causing the rest of her statements to come out in a sustained and satisfied hum.

As the cameraman took in Greg’s POV kneeling down before her, the crowd could see how she was becoming more demanding of her oral attention, riding his face to feel more of his diligent tongue.

Celia wore her dissatisfaction vividly as the growing moans of the Duchess filled the ring.

“Yes….yes….” Kendra enjoyed her climax a few moments later, a few deft licks and suckles on her clitoris more than enough to momentarily override her usually very guarded libido, lowered only for this special occasion.

Approvingly ruffling up his locks, she stepped off of his body, unsealing his mouth from her womanly entrance.

Easing off of her sexual high, she patted the same cheek before turning to leave. “Nicely done, luv.”

Ducking under the top rope, she was still purposefully ignorant of the Chiller’s irritable gaze, dropping down to the floor as Greg’s girlfriend crawled into the ring to properly chew him out.


***


“And so we have it, folks. Kendra takes another critical step in her rebuilding phase by overtaking a very game Thriller in this match to score victory. I’m sure this loss is going to really sting for Greg and co., but the tale is as old as time, folks: The Duchess wrestled the better match on her end, and thus, got the outcome she worked towards. He’ll definitely need to broaden his skillset and gain more experiences as a singles fighter before trying to step up to a former champion again.”

“Yes, all that may be true, but can you really lose when Kendra just invites you in like that?” George commented ever shrewdly towards his partner as the oral tribute session wrapped up.

“True, that is very true. Well, he’s gonna get plenty to chew on with his girl tonight. If training doesn’t make you a more successful sexfighter, well, outside motivation usually gets it done,” Kevin went on to say...


***


Smiling at the couple’s bickering, the Duchess sauntered up the elevating ramp with the empowering taste of victory in her mouth, a renewed surge of confidence in her breast, and not to mention- the interrupting opening hook of someone else’s entrance music, apparently.

The Englishwoman stopped right in her tracks as the crowd, previously cheering her exit, now reacted to another woman sauntering out of the curtains.

A woman she had history with.

Painful history.

The Swann was out and about for the next match on the card already, wearing her standard black ring attire while her face was a painting colored in smugness and overflowing confidence.

Walking down to an ovation all her own, Jane paused to meet Kendra’s cool gaze.

Their eyes locked on for a tense moment.

No words were exchanged, but the shorter American woman did cock a slight grin at her once and perhaps future rival.

Kendra didn’t take her eyes off the also-former IC Champion, but Jane did turn her back to her, walking forwards as the ring announcer retooled for the next contest.

_______________________________


Author's Note: Thanks as always for the support.

- Things have been a bit slow on the creative front, but I'm hopefully forecasting some very free days ahead to think.

- The model for Kendra is Keira Knightly; for The Thriller, it's Trey Griley. And for The Chiller, well, hehe, let's put a "to be continued" on her for now.

- Great establishing win for the Duchess I'd say. Her technical prowess sure raises some very interesting parallels I'd say amongst the class of sexfighters she's now joining to potentially challenge for the IC Title. Suffice to say, Mandy probably wasn't the only one watching this match...

- The Tournament Lineup as of now: Dan Danger, Bux Bunny, The Phenom, The Tigress, Gavin the Great, Jesse Belle, La Dama, Tiffany Laurence, Keiji Miura, The Swann, The Duchess.

- Don't forget we have the upcoming debut of Mastodon to look forward to. Along with faces that you know and faces that you don't know (but will, soon enough).

- Feedback is always appreciated!! Stay blessed!!!
Attached Images
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File Type: jpg Kendra3.jpg (86.3 KB, 209 views)

Last edited by batman4life; 17-Mar-21 at 03:51.
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