Post by hawkeye on Mar 8, 2021 1:08:29 GMT
With Alexis in an ICU and her rear view mirror courtesy of her charge, Portia VanBuren seemed to have a weight lifted off her shoulders as she excitedly leaned from one immaculate white Nike to the other. The woman she managed was another matter entirely.
The Bollywood Bombshell paced nervously knowing a woman who’s humiliated her on more than one occasion, including making her an oil-soaked bytch in the Pit, would be her Heartbroken opponent. Someone would be leaving this pay-per-view match in despair and Singh didn’t appear sure it wouldn’t be her.
“I’ve got a surprise for you after the match,” Baby purred, moving behind Amara and massaging her shoulders. “All you have to do is pluck this vile bird and it’s all yours.”
Singh’s features scrunched, unhappy to have even more pressure applied to the impending battle.
Amara motioned for one of the greased, brawny schmoes to lower to all fours. She used the man as a step to climb atop her iconic transportation.
“Tell them the Empress is ready.”
VanBuren nodded and waved her hand at a nearby FAWN flunky.
Priyanka Chopra and Pitbull and their groove Exotic broke through the murmur on the opposite side of the curtains, the accompaniment heralding the return of the Subcontinental Siren.
EXOTIC:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=sPhhZg9v9NU
Moving through the cloth divider, the set of musclebound men clad in gold loin clothes and sandals presented their golden-brown royal. Excited yet repulsed by the appearance of the Empress in full singles regalia, the despicable Singh drew the enmity of the FAWNatics.
AMARA SINGH:
The behemoths carried the ornate bed where upon the Bollywood Bombshell lies. As the ‘exotic’ grappler was paraded toward the ring on the curious conveyance, the FAWNatics batter her with boos. And the anger only grew when the scorned Manhattanite followed, shouting directions at Singh’s conveyors.
PORTIA VANBUREN:
Flawless in her immaculate, white tennis togs; a form-fitting, Louis Vuitton tank, short skirt with white socks and thousand-dollar tennies, VanBuren skipped past and led the men and their ‘beloved’ Empress. In Baby’s right hand was Precious, Portia pointing the way to the ring with her polo mallet.
Behind and above, the copper-skinned beauty writhed on her cushioned platform to the sound of the catchy beat. Below, the men’s gaze never left Portia, oblivious to the outstretched hands of the fans and the movements of the bronzed, ebony-haired beauty above.
The Announcer greeted the spectacular arrival of the Subcontinent’s most acclaimed warrior.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall with a thirty minute time limit. Introducing first, being accompanied to the ring by Portia Ophelia VanBuren the fourth, she hails from Cawnpore, India, stands at five feet six inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and thirty-three pounds. She is the Golden Empress… AMARA SINGH!”
Having reached their destination, the men lowered the divan so it’s even with the apron. Singh gracefully slid from bedside to ringside. Portia took the nearby steps and helped Amara slip from beneath a sparkling golden robe, revealing the curvy form beneath.
The momentary striptease drew a round of rabid applause within the jeers, Singh dropping a pearly sneer upon the peasants. She moved through the ropes, taking center stage.
Amara was clad in a lavishly designed, gold bra with matching gold and red, lacy harem pants, her feet bare. Singh’s raven tresses fell just past her shoulders in wild waves, dark copper skin glowing under the lights. The Bombshell raised a microphone to her full rosy lips, but VanBuren, having entered behind, requested Amara provide her the amplifier.
“Raven,” Portia began, the crowd’s volume slowly lowering, “You seem to believe you hold this roster and the woman I represent under a spell. That you have a certain captivating magic that makes you untouchable in the most heated of moments. Tonight, that myth is debunked.
“Tonight, you’ll learn you’re just another Jersey peasant with delusions of grandeur. Your Empress will also be your teacher. And believe me when I tell you there is only one grade handed out. Only one end for you. Kissing the feet of your conqueror.”
The FAWNatics didn’t seem to appreciate Portia’s prediction and they let her know at the top of their lungs.
Sneering at their jeers, VanBuren dropped the mic and led Singh to her corner where the duo discussed strategy against Amara’s most bitter rival.
“And introducing her opponent, representing the Black Court, hailing from Glen Echo Michigan, she stands at five feet seven inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and thirty-one pounds. This is the Fair and Radiant Maiden… LENORE LEMARCHAND!”
Kula Shaker’s ‘Hush’ winged its way into the Arena and a massive number of ’Ravens’ went up, Lemarchand’s ’unkindness’ as large as it’d ever been despite her controversial loss off the Queen’s Chambers back at All Hallows Evil 2020. Inspired by the antagonizing presence of Amara and Portia, the FAWNatics bellowed all the louder when the Fair & Radiant Maiden stepped into view on the tail end of the Announcer’s proclamation. Pausing to survey her surroundings, Lenore trained her eyes on the Bollywood Bombshell before she hooked her thumbs together and hoisted the Raven sigil to the rafters. It was returned a thousand-fold, thus providing a suitable backdrop for her journey to the squared circle.
LENORE LEMARCHAND:
For this latest entry in what was turning into a career spanning rivalry with the Golden Empress, Lemarchand chose strappy bikini bottoms hued in a purplish-black and emblazoned with a faint design that careful inspection revealed as feathers. Her top was halter style, with the color and pattern matching her briefs, while her elbow and kneepads were matte black, the latter still obscured by loose, bell-flared 'leggings' that started just south of mid-thigh and dropped to ankle length. Those leggings were also black and featured a stylized version of Lemarchand’s raven insignia done in stark white. Her look was finished with shiny black boots and purple wrist tape that matched her togs.
Always eager to put another nasty ding in Amara’s imperial façade, Lenore moved a little bit quicker than usual tonight because she’d long dreamed of facing and defeating Singh’s manager. While the career-shortening beating inflicted by Suguitan made that dream impossible, Portia’s mouth seemed to be working just fine and Lenore simply couldn’t wait to exchange barbs with the three time World Champ, presuming of course that Baby dared open her mouth once she reached ringside. Curious to see what the legend would do, Lemarchand strode up the steps and cleared the top rope in an effortless leap. Strolling to the middle of the ring with her gaze locked on Amara, Lenore hooked her thumbs and raised her sigil overhead to another raucous cheer. Silence from both blonde and brunette, yet Lemarchand could feel the hate rolling off Singh in waves and she answered with an equally hateful smile, the Raven letting her nemesis know the feeling was mutual before she went to the opposite corner for final inspection.
The crowd noise was thunderous, yet neither the Empress or the Raven heard it as anything more than a distant bit of unimportant background noise. Noting the faraway look in her charge’s eyes, Portia reached under the bottom rope and tapped Singh’s boot. “Don’t forget to breathe, Amara. You’re better than her. You’re not just better, you’re an Empress. And she’s smarmy Jersey trash.”
“She’s worse than that.” Singh murmured. “She’s a pretender to my throne.” VanBuren would’ve offered more assurances, but the bell sounded and Amara strode toward the center without so much as a glance at her manager.
Lenore noted her rival’s approach and made a point to match it so Singh couldn’t trap her against the ropes or the buckles. Knowing Amara as she did, she fully expected the Bollywood Bombshell to lunge as soon as possible, so she was slightly surprised when Singh came to a halt well before they could clench. “Hello Amara.” Lemarchand noted as she closed the gap. “You’re looking much improved since last we met.”
Singh’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Hello Lenore. I see you’re even more insufferable since…”
“Since what?” Lemarchand arched an eyebrow.
Amara took a deep breath, let it out slow. “Since you had the temerity to treat me like the rest of the trash you so generously call rivals.” Singh raised her hands and began to circle, which forced Lenore to do the same.
“Now that’s not true, and you know it.” the Courtier countered. “I might’ve added your briefs to those of the other Madhouse interlopers, but YOU were the only one special enough to warrant an exit via palanq--”
Amara flicked out a slap, bared her teeth in disgust when Lemarchand caught her wrist an inch or two shy of her cheek. Blood boiling by dint of sheer proximity to her nemesis, Singh buried her free hand in Lenore’s hair and wrenched her head backward only to bare her teeth when Lemarchand did the same to her! “You dared heap shame on an Empress you filthy little bird.” Amara snarled as she jostled her foe’s head from side to side. “Tonight I repay that slight and every other NNGGHH!”
Lenore tossed Amara’s hand away, treated her to a brisk smack across the mouth, then stuck a finger under her nose and snapped, “You’ve always had a selective memory, princess. YOU started this fight. It’s not my fault you had to go into hiding when I finished MMMRRRRGGGGGHHH!”
Singh clamped down on Lemarchand’s cheeks and smashed ‘em together in a fish-face that was painful as it was galling! “You’ve finished NOTHING, brat!” Amara growled. “All you did was delay your inevitable humiRRRRRGGGGGHHHH!”
Lenore smacked Singh’s mouth again, then forced that palm into the Empress’ face and clamped down an Iron Claw!
“That’s an illegal grip, Keith!” Portia barked at Craig Long, who was already making his way to the action. “Make that scrawny Jersey let her go!”
“All right ladies. the people paid for a wrestling match, so let’s break those holds and--” Singh and Lemarchand twisted away from the official, the tethered brunettes stomping around in a wobbly, furious circle as they tried to leave their mark on the hated other. Knowing better than to waste his breath on another warning, Craig started after them and called out, “ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!”
Empress and Raven released their holds with mutual Bytch Slaps that immediately gave way to stereo Headlocks, the rivals snuggled up shoulder to shoulder (Lenore’s left to Amara’s right), then almost doubling over as each tried to take command of the hold. “Let. Go. Peasant!” Amara snarled. “Drop to your knees and beg for forgiveness before I OOOOOWWWWWWW!”
Lenore plunged a hand into Amara’s hair and yanked like she meant to take it for a trophy. “Do I look like Alexis to you? You’re not just gonna strut up to me and make demanOOOFFFFHHH!”
Amara yanked ‘em both upright and pumped one bronzed thigh into the trim alabaster expanse of Lenore’s tummy! The Kneelift combined with another violent bulldog-shake of her Headlock broke Lemarchand’s grip and allowed Singh to straighten up with a triumphant sneer. Making a point to grrrrrrriiiiiiind the Fair & Radiant Maiden’s temple into the point of her hip, Amara made her way to the nearest corner and slung Lenore into the buckles back-first.
“Mere demands are beneath an Empress, bytch.” Singh explained in the middle of thum-thum-THUMPING! several more Broadside Kneelifts into her foe’s abs. “I deal in EDICTS. And when one reaches your unworthy ears there’s no choice but to OBEY!” The Bollywood Bombshell punctuated with a vile constriction of the Headlock and her stiffest Kneelift yet!
Portia clamored for more and Singh meant to oblige the legend, but she made sure to release her grip and step away when Craig Long walked over to enforce the break. “Thank you, Amara.” he said with an appreciative nod. “Please head back to the middle of the ring so we can restart--”
CRAAACK was followed by ‘WOOOOO!’ when the former Eurasian Champion laid a nasty Knife-Edge Chop across Lemarchand’s décolletage.
“I feel no need for a change of venue, peasant.” Amara purred even as she filled her hands with the Raven’s dark hair. “I find this view supremely satisfying!” With that she yanked Lenore’s head forward and drove it back into the top turnbuckle with an ugly BWUUUNG! She managed a half dozen of these concussive collisions before Craig started a count, which merely prompted Singh to hook her thumbs into the corners of Lemarchand’s mouth for agonizing fishhook! “SHRIEK, PEASANT!” Amara bellowed into her rival’s distorted features. “SHRIEK FOR THE PLEASURE OF YOUR EMPRESS!”
Lenore made several ugly, garbled noises which could be described as shrieks, though none of them brought a halt to Singh’s ripping and tearing. In the end it was Long’s call of ‘FOUR!’ that freed Lemarchand and sent Amara on her way, the gold-clad battler kicking some invisible dirt on her adversary before she took a moment to bask in the disdain of the FAWNatics.
“Do you remember what I did to that useless lump of dead weight, Alexis?” she called. “That will be mercy compared to the pain I inflict upon this miserable scavenger bird!”
Returning her attention to the grimacing Courtier, Amara strutted up to her prey and paintbrushed both cheeks en route to snatching another massive handful of hair. “You were never worthy of sharing a ring with me.” Singh hissed. “Tonight I expose you for the farce you--”
Lenore exploded off the buckles to THUNK a Headbutt into the bridge of Amara’s nose! The Empress’ knees shimmied hard and she might’ve slopped sideways into the ropes if Lemarchand hadn’t grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and pulled her into the corner she’d so recently vacated. But where Lenore had found her rump scuffing the middle buckle, Amara found herself lodged chest-first, a position that grew all the more awkward when Lemarchand grabbed her arms and draped them over the top rope.
“I thought the Madhouse would’ve taught you the tiniest bit of respect.” Lenore raised her left foot, planted it in the center of Singh’s back and began to puuuuuuuuuuuuuuull the other woman’s arms backward in an augmented surfboard. “And yet every time you open your mouth it sounds like the same old bullshyt. Which means I don’t have to hold back when I’m kicking your ass!”
Lenore CRANKED back on those captured wrists, then pulled her foot away so she could deliver some stomps in time with Craig’s count. “ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!” Lemarchand let go and pushed off, the Fair & Radiant just driving her nemesis’ chest into the top turnbuckle to leave her huffing and puffing while Lenore raised the decibels of the crowd courtesy of her Raven sigil.
Seemingly enjoying having the full-throated support of the FAWNatics, never a certainty for any member of the Black Court, a crooked grin emerged on Lenore’s features and only grew wider when Lemarchand turned the sagging Singh to face her and lit her up with a blistering backhand Chop to the chest of the Empress. Amara’s body flinched as if it’s been hit by a kendo stick, the crowd ‘WOOOOING’ on time and doing the same with the second and third Chops, each impact reverberating through the arena.
The Raven’s claws latched onto Amara’s near wrist and she pivoted to toss the Bollywood Bombshell on her way, or so some most might have thought. Instead, she hung on and pulled Amara into a vicious Short-Arm Clothesline, decking the silenced Singh.
Lenore looked down on the wincing Indian with satisfaction.
“Guess you thought it would make a difference not meeting me in the Pit,” the brunette purred. “But we both know I’m better than you anywhere and in anything.”
Lemarchand leveled a stomp toward Singh’s forehead, but Amara caught her foe around the ankle and shoved Lenore away, the Raven stumbling off a few feet before turning toward a slowly rising Empress.
The bronzed beauty wasn’t quite quick enough to halt a delving Toe Kick to the tummy, Amara doubling at the waist, dark eyes bulging. Lenore tugged the lowered head into a Front Facelock and grabbed a handful of spandex on the opposite side. With a practiced ease, Lenore vaulted the bigger Singh into the air, stalling her rival with Amara’s boot soles pointed at the rafters. She let Singh’s legs fall back the way they came but only after pivoting so the shins of the Indian grappler hit the top rope. The limbs rebounded up and over as the Black Courtier PLANTED Amara’s spine into the canvas with a textbook Slingshot Suplex.
SLINGSHOT SUPLEX:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=e_wSmYnHvIg
The Empress arched in pain, grasping for her lower back and Lenore, who’s moved to a seat behind her foe, grabbed the limb and its counterpart at the wrists. She pulled back on both arms, driving a boot sole between Singh’s shoulderblades to apply another version of a Surfboard, working over Amara’s arms and spinal column.
“I can tie you in any knot you can name, even a BollyKnot if you ask nicely.”
“PeasanTUHHH!”
Lenore interrupted, removing her boot from Amara’s back and THUMPING it into the back of her foe’s skull. With Singh’s bell rung, the alabaster stems of the Raven slipped around either side of Amara’s neck and clamped tight, Lemarchand securing a Scissors, her legs flexing in relief as she poured on the pressure.
“Felling a little deja vous?” Lenore grunted as she contracted, turning the exotic features of the Subcontinental Siren a rosier shade. “From what I hear the winner gets a title shot at Becky and I’ve always wanted to defeat an Army.”
Planting her boot soles on the canvas, a grimacing Singh pushed against the canvas, rising off the mat and stacking the previously seated Lenore on her shoulders, rolling the Raven up behind her.
Craig slaps the canvas for…
ONE…
and…
TWO…
But the Courtier released the hold and shoved to her feet in time to safely stop Amara’s steal.
Trying her best to ignore the mounting pain, Singh pushed to her knees. But Lenore had an answer, rushing at the Bombshell from behind and POUNDING a raised knee into the back of Singh’s skull. Amara lurches forward, faceplanting and remaining stilled on her chest.
The Raven dropped to Amara’s side, rolling the insensate Singh to her back, and draped tight in a Lateral Press across the Indian’s chest for the…
ONE…
TWO…
The Empress spasmed to life, instinctively lifting a shoulder off the canvas, ending on her side next to a bemused Raven who playfully rifled the raven locks of her rival.
“I own an Empress,” Lenore said to no one in particular. “Wonder what you’d go for at retail?”
Lemarchand turned to a fuming Portia.
“Hey there lean and lascivious, how much for me to give her back to you in one piece?”
“Keep talking,” VanBuren growled under her breath, “and I’ll take you for a ride, no cost.”
Lenore sank a set of nails into a reeling Singh and pulled the battered Indian brawler to her feet before staggering her with a forearm blast to the jawline. Amara stumbled away, walking in fencepost holes but remaining upright until she flopped back-first into her corner, Baby just below.
“Stem the tide, Amara. Slow her down.”
As managerial advice went, it’s not of the million-dollar variety, and the gust of breath expunged from Singh when Lenore raced in and BURIED Amara with an ivory wave of an Avalanche Splash didn’t allow Singh to follow it.
As the shellshocked Empress faltered toward mid-ring, Lenore glanced down at Fortune’s Favorite.
“I didn’t hear you earlier. Did you have something to say?”
Portia’s emerald pools stared lasers at the willowy brunette.
“I tend to ignore Jersey swamp trash and the gas emanating from it,” VanBuren barked. “But it’s only a rule.”
“Any time, creampuff. I bet there’s still some pleading left in those sweet lips of yours.”
As Portia stewed silently, Lemarchand, having gotten the last word, turned to Amara. The Empress was in the opposite buckles, drawing in deep breaths, chin slumped to her chest.
The Raven raced across the ring for another catastrophic collision but as she closes, Singh leaned into the top buckle and raises her golden-brown gams high, the legs tightening in a Scissors around the head of the startled Courtier. Sweeping her stems toward her, Amara sent Lenore’s face CRASHING into the middle buckle below. The Siren pushed off the top, dropping to the canvas and spinning to face the penitent Raven.
Moving wearily to Lemarchand, Singh dipped and swept an arm across Lenore’s throat in a backhand grip. She pulled the gasping Raven to her feet and forced Lenore into a backpedal to the center via the Dragon Sleeper. Arched backward, there’s little Lenore could do, her balance and leverage gone. But instead of holding and draining the Raven, the Bollywood Bombshell blew up her nemesis with an Inverted DDT, the back of the Courtier’s cranium THUMPING into the thinly-sheathed plywood.
INVERTED DDT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=kbSBujpByeA
A pinning predicament pre-made, Amara slithered atop her rival in a full-body press, restraining the Raven in a single file of ivory-skinned grappler, arms above her head, secured there by Singh’s palms; chest flattening chest, pelvis tight to pelvis for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Lenore bucked the Bombshell enough to break the count and roll to her side.
“Feel it, peasant?” Amara whispered in the Raven’s ear, then shoved Lenore to her chest and rubbed her features into the abrasive canvas. “Your position below your Empress will soon be manifest.”
Pulling the scoured face of Lenore away from the deck, Amara punctuated with a ring-rattling SLAM of features to mat. She pushed to her feet and mounted Lemarchand in a forward-facing stance above the back of the splayed Raven’s waistline.
Singh glanced at VanBuren and Portia drew a thumb across her delicate throat, the Empress knowing full well what Baby wanted. The Indian grappler nodded in response, lowering her taut derriere toward the base of Lemarchand’s backbone to take a seat and apply the coupe de grace that is her Camel Clutch.
Understandably eager to punish the longtime thorn in her side, Singh reached down and grabbed hold of Lenore’s hair so she could haul the Courtier to her hands and knees before she’d secured her seat. This proved a mistake when Lemarchand jabbed her right elbow into the inside of the other brunette’s thigh, then crawled backward through Amara’s stems at the low, low cost of a few strands of dark hair. Cursing through clenched teeth as the Raven flitted from her grasp, Singh whipped around on her heel buried both hands in Lenore’s locks as she regained her foot--“NNNGGGHHH!” Lemarchand countered with a hair pull of her own, but rather than wrench and tear, she tucked her head beneath the Empress’ chin and dropped to her knees to pop Amara up on tiptoe with a Jawbreaker!
“Steady Amara!” Portia barked as her client lost all interest in denuding Lemarchand’s scalp. “Shake it off and--” the FAWN original trailed into disgusted silence when the Empress’ follow-up Toe Kick got caught a few inches shy of Lenore’s trim tummy. No hesitation from the Fair & Radiant Maiden, she tossed Amara’s leg down with such force it swept the limb backward, which in turn bent Singh over and made her an easy target for a Kneelift to the forehead!
KICK CATCH KNEELIFT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=JRFk34JQE3A
Amara wobbled in place without going down, so Lemarchand hooked her behind both knees and swept ‘em out from underneath to bring the Bollywood Bombshell to the deck. Tossing Singh’s right leg aside so she could focus on the left, Lenore threaded her legs around Amara’s thigh, then dropped backward and trapped the gam in a Figure Four as soon as she touched down. “RRRRGGGGGHHH!” Amara pounded a furious fist against the deck when Lemarchand trapped her wriggling foot beneath her right armpit and sent a strong pulse through her thighs to really crank the Kneebar.
KNEEBAR @ 00:06
www.youtube.com/watch?v=DzsaKnCxRnI
“Did you really think you were going to catch me in the Clutch that fast?” Lenore growled as she tried to twist Singh’s lower leg off at the knee. “You must be getting high on the smoke Portia’s blowing up your ass because NGH! NGH! NGH! NNNNHHHH!”
Singh scrambled to the best seat she could manage before bringing her right heel down on the sleek-strong expanse of her attacker’s right thigh. “Portia is not your concern, peasant.” the Empress countered. “She’s merely here to bear witness as I impose my will upon you once and for allAAAARRRRHHHH!” Lenore swatted her rival’s interfering leg aside, then reefed back on the Kneebar with such ferocity that Singh buried both hands in her hair to spread out the pain.
“Get your hands out of your hair, Amara. The ropes are close!” Baby’s tone was cold and controlled as ever, though a careful ear could detect an undercurrent of concern. “Get your elbows on the mat and follow my voice to-don’t you DARE ask her for a surrender, you striped idiot! My client is just FINE, thank you!” With Craig Long suitably rebuked, VanBuren resumed, “Follow my voice, Amara. Follow it and I promise nothing but victory and gold in your future.”
Teeth grinding, Singh did as bade, the gold-clad lovely regaining her seat so she could begin dragging their combined weight toward the ropes. “Since when do you need anyone in your ear?” Lemarchand grunted. “She wasn’t there when you humiliated me on the beach. Or when I returned the favor in Mumbai. She wasn’t there for any of it, princess. Not only that, she hasn’t had the guts to get into the ring since Alexis, you remember her, right? Since Alexis beat her sorry ass into retire--”
Singh made a final convulsive lunge to hook an arm around the bottom rope. “Get your FILTHY claws off me, peasROOOOOOOOPES!”
Lemarchand punished the former Eurasian champ’s vulnerable knee with another merciless squeeze, one that didn’t end until Craig rushed over and counted out, “ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!” Drawing herself into a seat against the strands as soon as the duplicitous Courtier let go, Amara pulled down her knee-pad so she could work out the worst of the kinks and strains.
“Take a moment on the floor, if you need it.” VanBuren advised. “Catch your breath, get your head back in this--”
“I will NEVER cede another battleground to that woman.” Singh hissed. “FAWN is MY domain and it’s high time she learned that.”
Portia offered her a supportive little noise that seemed to suggest she approved, but didn’t much care for the interruption. Amara paid it no mind, she reset her kneepad, then got to her feet and demanded Lenore clear off with an imperious flick of one hand. “Some room, if you don’t mind. Such proximity is galling if you’re not in the role of my throne.”
“Save the tough talk for the Suguitan’s of the world.” Lemarchand countered. “Unless you’re really interested in a frank discussion of what happened when you were MY thr--”
Amara exploded off the ropes with another Toe Kick that suffered the same last-second interception as its predecess--“EEERRRGGGHH!” The Bollywood Bombshell hunched forward over her exposed leg so she could slash her talons across Lemarchand’s surprised face! Clapping a Slap to the side of Lenore’s head even before she’d freed her foot, Amara snagged a handful of hair and wrenched the other brunette’s head backward so she could administer several more brisk shots.
“Beautiful, beautiful! Treat her like the trash she is!” VanBuren gifted her charge with a polite little golf clap as Singh segued from slaps to Broadside Kneelifts, the Golden Empress softening Lenore’s abs with half a dozen bludgeoning blows before she twisted around and caught her in a Side Headlock. No grinding this time out, Singh simply loped forward and took to the skies for a low leap that culminated in a comfortable landing for her and a ring-rattling THWONK for Lenore. Shoveling the Courtier onto her back in the aftermath of the Bulldog, Amara slid into a tight Crossbody and hooked the far leg up nice ‘n snug to keep her nemesis down for the…
RUNNING BULLDOG:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=AZ-e10K2HUk
ONE…
TWO…
Lenore reached out and grabbed the middle rope to force a break almost simultaneous with ‘TWO!’ “These will not save you, peasant.” Singh treated the rubber-coated steel to a disdainful swat. “Like everything else in this arena, they serve at my beck and call. You seem to have forgotten this fact, so allow me to remind you.”
On that imperious note she rolled Lemarchand back to her stomach, then got to her feet and reached over the second rope so she could pull her prey partway onto the apron. Lenore struggled to get a hand on the ropes to earn a second break, but Amara secured her biceps in matching claws and quickly draped them over the--“NNNNGGGGHHH!” No stopping the Bollywood Butt Bomb now, Singh straddled the American’s back and dropped to a seat that thumped every bit of her near hundred and forty pounds into the small of Lenore’s back! With the Raven’s arms draped over the middle rope and her head dipped just beneath it, Amara laced her fingers across Lemarchand’s chin and CRAAAAANKED backward on the augmented Camel Clutch!
“AAAAARRRRHHHH FAAAAAAHK!” Lenore shrieked from the confines of Singh’s pitiless grip. “RRRGGHHH LET GO YOU BYTCH, I’M IN THE ROPUUURRRRRHHHGGGGHH!”
Amara shifted from Chinlock to stereo Fishhooks, the Bronze Goddess slipping three fingers from each hand into the sides of her prey’s mouth to punish her with a proper peasant’s grin! “SUBMIT TO ME!” Singh bellowed down at the squirming Courtier. “BEG MY FORGIVENESS AND ACCEPT YOUR PLACE AS--”
“Break the hold, Amara! Break it right now! ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!”
Amara got up from her seat and stalked Craig Long all the way to the other side of the squared circle, a change in position that just so happened to leave Lenore all alone with Fortune’s Favorite.
Not one to miss an opportunity, VanBuren wrapped her palms behind Lenore’s neck, lacing her fingers and pulling the Raven’s alabaster throat atop the bottom cable. Lenore flailed wildly, her face turning from pink to red to purple, her oxygen cut off by Baby as Singh argued vehemently with Long. Grasping a shoulder to keep Craig from witnessing, Portia’s afforded more time to choke out Lemarchand, the FAWNatics furious, burying Baby in boos.
The deafening jeers eventually drew long’s attention. VanBuren let loose just in time, backing away, arms at her sides. She innocently batted her lids as a gasping, choking Lenore pushes to her feet and turned into a delving Toe Kick to the tummy from the Empress.
Amara cupped the brunette’s chin, lifting her foe back to something approaching vertical before blistering Lenore’s clavicle with a blazing backhand Chop. Singh put the Courtier on her heels when she landed another, then flat on her back when the Subcontinental Siren landed a third unanswered Chop!
Imperially, Amara stepped both feet atop Lenore, riding Lemarchand’s chest and tummy like a surfboard while holding the top rope with both hands. Using the springy cable, Singh leapt into the air, throwing her legs behind her then sweeping them back toward her target, POWERING both heels into her foe’s midriff, driving every last bit of air from the Raven, Lemarchand retching as she jackknifes around the impact point, dark eyes bulging.
“We’ve all been there,” a delighted Empress purred. “Every time I see you wrestle, I want to vomit.”
At the count of four, Amara hopped off her long, lean, steppingstone, sliding through the ropes before reacquiring her grip on the uppermost cable from the outside. As Lenore rolled from her chest to her back, a few feet removed from the strands, Amara launched with the help of the rubber-coated steel, vaulting over the ropes. Her golden-brown legs extended, she’s ready to drop the muscular limbs across chest and throat with a turbocharged Leg Drop.
But the Raven was playing possum. She rolled clear and Singh SPIKED her tailbone into the deck, Amara left to comically bounce in place, slipping her hands beneath her ass to cushion the throbbing pulses from around her hole.
Porta, patrician face buried in her hands, couldn’t believe the opening her charge provided. Slapping the canvas in anger, she shouted at Singh to reach vertical, but the Bollywood Bombshell was too busy massaging her coccyx to even consider rising off her kneading palms.
A still rosy-faced Raven wasn’t exactly rushing to her feet nearby, drawing in deep breaths while reaching one knee, keeping Amara in her sights. When the Empress finally showed some interest in getting off her backside, the Fair & Radiant Maiden was ready, stomping her right boot into the canvas, loading it for the inevitable. And when Amara turned to find her.
THWHACK!
The Super Kick proved a literal head turner, Singh pirouetting then staggering in a backpedal to her corner. Portia looked on in exasperation as Lenore collected Amara’s left leg, lifting it over the middle cable on one side, then did so with her foe’s right in the opposite direction.
“Far be it from me to get personal.” Lenore chuckled. “Ah. Who am I kidding? The more personal the better.”
Lemarchand jogged to the opposite corner, spun through a U-turn, and sprinted at the trapped Singh, Amara’s palms pushed toward her approaching foe, ‘washing windows’ in a plea for mercy. One that’s emphatically not answered.
Instead, the Raven delivered a gawdawful Penalty Kick to the Indian grappler’s kitty that had most of the men in the audience grimacing in sympathy pains and left Amara’s jaw dropping, the anguish emanating from her crotch putting her on tilt, dark eyes rolling back in her head.
Following Craig’s heated instructions, Lenore removed the bow-legged Bollywood Bombshell from her moorings, gingerly lifting and depositing Singh’s boots to the canvas. But the momentary mercy ended when Lenore moved beside the frozen Empress, grapevines her near leg with Amara’s and PLANTED her against the deck with a ring-rattling Russian Legsweep.
With one hand cradling the back of her skull and the other still buried between her trembling thighs, the Empress could manage little in the way of resistance as Lemarchand dropped to the canvas and slid out under the bottom rope. She grabbed a wrist of Singh’s, drawing Amara out with her so the Siren was eventually seated on the outside, staring back in the ring.
Turning from her target, Lenore reached over her shoulder for a Three Quarters Facelock around and under the chin of the golden-brown grappler. She pulled Singh’s cheeks to the edge of the apron and bid the Empress au revoir with a vicious Neckbreaker. The sight had VanBuren turning away and the crowd cheering in delight as the Indian’s skull and spine were rammed into the thinly-padded cement of the arena floor.
NECKBREAKER FROM THE APRON:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=f1xljS2Yww4
Amara cradled her bruised noggin with both hands while the Raven rolled to her feet. Instantly, Lenore was forced to react because Singh’s manager was charging. Catching movement from the corner of her eye, Lemarchand twisted out of the path of Fortune’s Favorite and scooped the Manhattanite off her feet on her hip. Holding the squirming, pleading Portia horizontally, cradled in her arms, the Raven lets Baby consider her trip to the concrete before delivering her there with a Sidewalk Slam.
SIDEWALK SLAM:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=f1xljS2Yww4
Stilled, VanBuren was disdainfully pushed aside by the Black Courtier. The Fair & Radiant Maiden rose next to Amara as Singh struggled to her feet, some precious seconds of recovery time gained for the Empress but at a terrible cost to the demolished manager.
With Craig’s count growing over her shoulder, Lenore snatched Amara by her ebony mane and a wrist and ran the former tag and Eurasian champion to the ring’s edge, tossing her bitter rival into the squared circle under the bottom rope.
Lemarchand climbed to the apron and took a moment of vanity to turn to the roaring FAWNatics, offering them her Raven sigil before sweeping between the cables to a rising Singh.
Amara threw a right cross, but it’s deftly blocked by a left forearm from Lenore. The Raven responded with a bludgeoning overhand right, connecting with Amara’s jaw, rocking the Bombshell. Singh returned fire but was blocked once more then NAILED by Lenore. The dance continues through three more blocks and thumping connections by Lemarchand until Amara was a wobbling, exotic ragdoll.
The Raven gutted the rubbery Amara with a kick to the tummy, doubling over her foe. One by one she collected a pair of underhooked arms, locking her digits and throwing her mass backward, laying out into a brutal DDT. The impact was ferocious, Singh standing on her head for a split second before tumbling over into a lifeless spreadeagle.
A luxuriating Raven rolled to her chest, crawls to her semiconscious foe, and dropped in a Lateral Press across Amara’s slowly rolling bosom for the inevitable…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOOOOOO!
Singh inched a shoulder off the mat with a whisper to spare, her show of resilience earning a relieved sigh from the still-recovering Portia and a groan of disappointment from the FAWNatics. Lenore proved neither relieved or disappointed, rather she looked quite resolute as she buried her hands in Amara’s hair and dragged the former Eurasian Champion to all fours. Drawing the penitent battler into a Standing Headscissors, Lemarchand caught a quick Waistlock so she could upend her adversary and--THWHUNK! She kicked both feet forward and dropped to her butt, all the better to spike the crown of Amara’s skull against the deck!
SNAP PILEDRIVER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ggDK9kIFds
Singh jolted loose of the Raven’s stems and slopped onto shoulder and hip only to finish up on her stomach when Lenore sidled in close and threaded her long legs around the Empress’ exposed noggin.
“NNNNNGGGGGGGGHHHHH!” Amara began to writhe and twist in response to that first gammy constriction, both hands swatting fitfully at her attacker’s encroaching thighs. Lemarchand greeted this with narrowed eyes and a clutching grasp, the Courtier using her left hand to snatch Singh’s left wrist away from her escape attempts. She could’ve neutralized Amara’s right hand as well, but instead she flattened her right hand into a paddle and warmed those haughty, squirming glutes with no less than half a dozen scintillating slaps!
“HOW DARE YOU!” VanBuren barked as her client was treated in a fashion more fit for Jersey trash than the Gold Standard for women’s professional wrestling in 2021. “Get your filthy hands off her or else I’ll-”
Lenore’s dark eyes turned to Baby as she very deliberately snatched hold of Amara’s waistband and raised it by more than six inches. “You’ll do what, Portia?” she asked over the din. “Tag in? I would LOVE to see you try.”
Portia’s upper lip curled in a disgusted snarl. When next she spoke, it was to Amara. “Fight out of there, Empress! Either break the hold or get to the ropes, the little winged rat can’t contain your--” More cringing from the FAWN Original when Lemarchand relinquished the wedgie for another round of callous spanking, her pitiless palm raising an angry red welt on the heretofore unmarred bronze of Amara’s buns.
“What do you say, Amara?” Craig held his query until after Lenore took a break to shake the sting from her hand. “Need me to call for the bell?”
“I need you to fall to your knees in adoration, peasant!” Amara hissed. “There is no way I’ll ever surrender to this AAAARRRRRHHHHH NOOOOOOOOOO!”
Lenore put both palms to the mat, crossed her ankles and lifted her butt off the mat so she could put even more pressure into that hellacious Headscissors. “But you have, Amara.” she huffed. “More than once, in fact. Tonight is only the latest piece of a repeating patt--”
“NEVER!” Singh bellowed as she abruptly powered to all fours, a condition made all the more impressive because her forehead was still scraping the mat. “YOU WILL NEVER AGAIN TASTE VICTORY AGAINST ME, PEASANTTHHHRRGGGGHH!”
Lenore raised her hips and brought them down to bonk Amara’s noggin against the thinly-sheathed plywood. “Keep telling me I can’t.” she muttered. “I’ll keep proving you wrong.”
Singh said nothing to that, instead she began to clamor and clamber and crawl in the direction of Portia’s voice. The journey was pure anguish, her world reduced to nothing but the cacophony of Baby’s reassurances, the roar of the peasants demanding she ‘TAP!’ and of course the pounding of blood at her temples as Lenore’s legs tried to pop her head clean off. After what seemed like an eternity (it was about twenty seven seconds) Singh’s flailing right hand found the bottom rope and gripped it tight. “BREAK!” she and VanBuren demanded simultaneously.
Lenore nodded to let Long know that she understood, then finished with a final crushing constriction, the Fair & Radiant Maiden forcing Amara to endure another ‘FOUR!’ seconds of Headscissor Hell.
The Bollywood Bombshell actually rolled back toward the center of the squared circle when she was freed, not because she didn’t desire some time on the outside, but because she didn’t dare risk getting caught in another Scissors as she made her exit. A bit surprised by Singh’s choice, Lemarchand slipped under the bottom rope and got to her feet on the narrow ledge of apron. She was lining up her shot on the Empress when fire licked down the full length of her right thigh!
“That’s just a taste, Jersey.” Portia explained after she’d scored the Courtier’s gam. “Just a taste of what’s in store if you get in my NGH!”
Lenore reared back and caught Baby with a Toe Kick to the sternum that sent her stumbling back in bug-eyed shock. Lenore blew her a kiss before returning her attention to Amara, who was on all fours with her back to the Raven. A tremor in those strong shoulders told her the Empress was about to rise, so Lemarchand grabbed the top rope, dropped into a deep crouch and sprang onto the top rope for-- VanBuren leapt onto the apron, caught hold of Lenore’s right ankle and tugged her backward so that the startled brunette lost her balance and dropped across the top rope with a gut-churning TWAAAAAANG!
Folded in half as soon as she bounced clear of that rubber-coated steel, Lemarchand landed awkwardly on her head and right shoulder before ultimately tumbling through to all fours. “GET UP AMARA!” Portia shouted from the outside. “CLUMSY JERSEY TRIPPED OVER HER OWN FEET, SHAKE IT OFF AND TAKE ADVANTAGE, DAMMIT!”
Amara fought to her feet, waving a desultory hand in Portia’s direction as she did so. Eyes clearing as she turned and discovered the gasping Raven, Singh threw herself into the ropes and bounced out full speed ahead. Lenore never saw it coming, her hair was still hanging in her eyes when the Empress dropped into a skid and THWHUNKED her right knee into the other brunette’s temple.
KISS FROM AN EMPRESS @ 1:53
www.youtube.com/watch?v=o4Tx3qGyY2Y
Blasted into a glassy-eyed sprawl by the Kiss From An Empress, Lenore was all knocking knees and juddering glutes when Amara dragged her out of the ropes and into a Standing Headscissors. “If you will not be a pet and you will not be a peasant,” Singh threaded her arms beneath Lenore’s biceps and clasped her hands to secure the Double Underhook. “Then you will serve as a warning to all those that might defy the coming of the Golden Dawn!” With that she bent down and hoisted Lemarchand ass over teakettle, the Raven’s toes pointed into the rafters until Amara swept around in a half circle and dropped to her butt to THA-WHAM Lenore down flat on her face, chest and belly!
BOLLYWOOD BASH:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=C9dzrMkc8mQ
Bounced onto her back by the Bollywood Bash, Lemarchand offered no resistance when Amara pounced across her chest and hooked the far leg for…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
Lenore twisted free of the cradle to the astonishment of everyone, perhaps Portia most of all. “STAY ON HER, AMARA! SHE’S ALMOST DONE, YOU HAVE TO PUT--”
Singh raised an index finger to the blonde, an imperious gesture that silenced VanBuren out of sheer surprise rather than actual deference. “I will gladly accept your counsel against any woman on this roster.” Amara said through clenched. “Save this one. She is mine. And mine alone.”
Portia grumbled something inaudible, not that Singh was paying her any attention now that she had both hands in Lenore’s hair. Dragging her nemesis out into the middle of the ring, she hauled Lemarchand to verticality and snuggled in on her right side. From there she hooked the brunette’s right arm in a Half Nelson and palmed the bottom of her right thigh in her right hand. “I’d been saving this for someone special,” Singh whispered in the Courtier’s ear, “but I guess you’ll suffice.”
Barb delivered, she gathered her reserves and flung Lenore up ‘n over in an involuntary back-flip that--THAWHUNK!Amara brought her left knee pistoning up into Lemarchand’s descending forehead with whiplash-inducing force that left the other brunette sprawled on her back in burbling semiconsciousness.
SINGH U 2 SLEEP @ 2:08
www.youtube.com/watch?v=o4Tx3qGyY2Y
Flashing a nasty smile in the wake of Singh U 2 Sleep, Amara dropped to her knees beside Lemarchand, cradled the far leg up nice and tight and pressed her gulping, sweat-tacky tummy into her foe’s features while the ref, the FAWNatics and Baby all counted out…
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!
The Empress nodded in satisfaction, though she didn’t deign to throw the Raven’s leg aside until the Announcer confirmed, “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner via pin-fall… AMARA SINGH!”
Gorgeous beak rising haughtily as she pushed to her feet, the Bollywood Bombshell hovered over the splayed Lenore, gazing calmly into the crowd like the wrestling royalty she proclaimed herself to be.
Quickly beside her was Fortune’s Favorite, Portia grabbed Amara’s near wrist and heaved the arm of Singh high, Baby pointing at her charge with her opposite index finger. Without missing a beat she drove a stomp to the Raven’s open belly, bringing Lemarchand retching back to life.
“Understand now, Jersey?” VanBuren shouted. “This woman rules all she surveys. And right now, she’s surveys you.”
Lenore started to open her quivering lips for a retort before Portia dove atop the defeated, ending in a Schoolgirl Pin, her folded legs bracketing Lenore’s noggin. Baby pressed a palm over Lemarchand’s mouth.
“SHHHH.”
The Raven frantically bucked VanBuren and she might have succeeded in escaping if Amara hadn’t leapt into her own straddle atop Lenore, Amara perching on the Courtier’s thighs, manager and wrestler riding the Raven in tandem.
A grinning Portia reached a hand behind her and a smirking Singh slapped it in solidarity.
Baby spun her seat in a 180, moving the juncture of her thighs from below Lenore’s chin to atop it, Baby exchanging her hand smother for a mug-encompassing seat on the brunette’s squirming features.
Portia rose momentarily to give Lemarchand a gasping breath.
“You’ll…”
The Raven was hastily interrupted, Portia settling down upon the wide-eyed face of the Courtier once more. She leaned forward to latch her claws onto the pert chest of the Raven, Baby squeezing to her heart’s content. Lenore squealed into the Manhattanite’s undercarriage.
“I do miss this,” Portia huffed to a snickering Singh, Amara keeping Lenore’s lower half pinned, making the Raven’s demolition a fait d’accompli.
Still, the Raven struggled on futilely for a dozen more seconds, weakly attempting to forge a miracle and failing miserably, her arms increasingly leaden, finally falling to her sides as VanBuren continued to grind forward and back atop her throne.
“I believe we’re done here,” the Empress assured and VanBuren nodded in breathless agreement.
Portia rose and moved to the ropes, calling for a microphone. She brought it to her lips as she rejoined Amara dead center, standing above a greasy-faced Lenore. VanBuren cast her gaze at the hard cam.
“Clayton! You once led a pathetic squad of Jersey miscreants that dismantled my Associates and battered me from pillar to post in the process. I’ve never forgotten that… that… humiliation and I’m telling you here and now that the ledger will finally be balanced next month. Because at MY behest, Empress Amara will be given the chance to strip you of your belt at March to War. If you have any doubts with regard to the outcome, please observe your fellow Black Court flunky. This is what awaits you!”
Baby dropped the mic with a ‘CLUNK’ atop Lenore’s softly rolling bosom and together Singh and VanBuren exit to the echoing jeers of the FAWNatics, hated but most certainly feared.
The Bollywood Bombshell paced nervously knowing a woman who’s humiliated her on more than one occasion, including making her an oil-soaked bytch in the Pit, would be her Heartbroken opponent. Someone would be leaving this pay-per-view match in despair and Singh didn’t appear sure it wouldn’t be her.
“I’ve got a surprise for you after the match,” Baby purred, moving behind Amara and massaging her shoulders. “All you have to do is pluck this vile bird and it’s all yours.”
Singh’s features scrunched, unhappy to have even more pressure applied to the impending battle.
Amara motioned for one of the greased, brawny schmoes to lower to all fours. She used the man as a step to climb atop her iconic transportation.
“Tell them the Empress is ready.”
VanBuren nodded and waved her hand at a nearby FAWN flunky.
Priyanka Chopra and Pitbull and their groove Exotic broke through the murmur on the opposite side of the curtains, the accompaniment heralding the return of the Subcontinental Siren.
EXOTIC:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=sPhhZg9v9NU
Moving through the cloth divider, the set of musclebound men clad in gold loin clothes and sandals presented their golden-brown royal. Excited yet repulsed by the appearance of the Empress in full singles regalia, the despicable Singh drew the enmity of the FAWNatics.
AMARA SINGH:
The behemoths carried the ornate bed where upon the Bollywood Bombshell lies. As the ‘exotic’ grappler was paraded toward the ring on the curious conveyance, the FAWNatics batter her with boos. And the anger only grew when the scorned Manhattanite followed, shouting directions at Singh’s conveyors.
PORTIA VANBUREN:
Flawless in her immaculate, white tennis togs; a form-fitting, Louis Vuitton tank, short skirt with white socks and thousand-dollar tennies, VanBuren skipped past and led the men and their ‘beloved’ Empress. In Baby’s right hand was Precious, Portia pointing the way to the ring with her polo mallet.
Behind and above, the copper-skinned beauty writhed on her cushioned platform to the sound of the catchy beat. Below, the men’s gaze never left Portia, oblivious to the outstretched hands of the fans and the movements of the bronzed, ebony-haired beauty above.
The Announcer greeted the spectacular arrival of the Subcontinent’s most acclaimed warrior.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall with a thirty minute time limit. Introducing first, being accompanied to the ring by Portia Ophelia VanBuren the fourth, she hails from Cawnpore, India, stands at five feet six inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and thirty-three pounds. She is the Golden Empress… AMARA SINGH!”
Having reached their destination, the men lowered the divan so it’s even with the apron. Singh gracefully slid from bedside to ringside. Portia took the nearby steps and helped Amara slip from beneath a sparkling golden robe, revealing the curvy form beneath.
The momentary striptease drew a round of rabid applause within the jeers, Singh dropping a pearly sneer upon the peasants. She moved through the ropes, taking center stage.
Amara was clad in a lavishly designed, gold bra with matching gold and red, lacy harem pants, her feet bare. Singh’s raven tresses fell just past her shoulders in wild waves, dark copper skin glowing under the lights. The Bombshell raised a microphone to her full rosy lips, but VanBuren, having entered behind, requested Amara provide her the amplifier.
“Raven,” Portia began, the crowd’s volume slowly lowering, “You seem to believe you hold this roster and the woman I represent under a spell. That you have a certain captivating magic that makes you untouchable in the most heated of moments. Tonight, that myth is debunked.
“Tonight, you’ll learn you’re just another Jersey peasant with delusions of grandeur. Your Empress will also be your teacher. And believe me when I tell you there is only one grade handed out. Only one end for you. Kissing the feet of your conqueror.”
The FAWNatics didn’t seem to appreciate Portia’s prediction and they let her know at the top of their lungs.
Sneering at their jeers, VanBuren dropped the mic and led Singh to her corner where the duo discussed strategy against Amara’s most bitter rival.
“And introducing her opponent, representing the Black Court, hailing from Glen Echo Michigan, she stands at five feet seven inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and thirty-one pounds. This is the Fair and Radiant Maiden… LENORE LEMARCHAND!”
Kula Shaker’s ‘Hush’ winged its way into the Arena and a massive number of ’Ravens’ went up, Lemarchand’s ’unkindness’ as large as it’d ever been despite her controversial loss off the Queen’s Chambers back at All Hallows Evil 2020. Inspired by the antagonizing presence of Amara and Portia, the FAWNatics bellowed all the louder when the Fair & Radiant Maiden stepped into view on the tail end of the Announcer’s proclamation. Pausing to survey her surroundings, Lenore trained her eyes on the Bollywood Bombshell before she hooked her thumbs together and hoisted the Raven sigil to the rafters. It was returned a thousand-fold, thus providing a suitable backdrop for her journey to the squared circle.
LENORE LEMARCHAND:
For this latest entry in what was turning into a career spanning rivalry with the Golden Empress, Lemarchand chose strappy bikini bottoms hued in a purplish-black and emblazoned with a faint design that careful inspection revealed as feathers. Her top was halter style, with the color and pattern matching her briefs, while her elbow and kneepads were matte black, the latter still obscured by loose, bell-flared 'leggings' that started just south of mid-thigh and dropped to ankle length. Those leggings were also black and featured a stylized version of Lemarchand’s raven insignia done in stark white. Her look was finished with shiny black boots and purple wrist tape that matched her togs.
Always eager to put another nasty ding in Amara’s imperial façade, Lenore moved a little bit quicker than usual tonight because she’d long dreamed of facing and defeating Singh’s manager. While the career-shortening beating inflicted by Suguitan made that dream impossible, Portia’s mouth seemed to be working just fine and Lenore simply couldn’t wait to exchange barbs with the three time World Champ, presuming of course that Baby dared open her mouth once she reached ringside. Curious to see what the legend would do, Lemarchand strode up the steps and cleared the top rope in an effortless leap. Strolling to the middle of the ring with her gaze locked on Amara, Lenore hooked her thumbs and raised her sigil overhead to another raucous cheer. Silence from both blonde and brunette, yet Lemarchand could feel the hate rolling off Singh in waves and she answered with an equally hateful smile, the Raven letting her nemesis know the feeling was mutual before she went to the opposite corner for final inspection.
The crowd noise was thunderous, yet neither the Empress or the Raven heard it as anything more than a distant bit of unimportant background noise. Noting the faraway look in her charge’s eyes, Portia reached under the bottom rope and tapped Singh’s boot. “Don’t forget to breathe, Amara. You’re better than her. You’re not just better, you’re an Empress. And she’s smarmy Jersey trash.”
“She’s worse than that.” Singh murmured. “She’s a pretender to my throne.” VanBuren would’ve offered more assurances, but the bell sounded and Amara strode toward the center without so much as a glance at her manager.
Lenore noted her rival’s approach and made a point to match it so Singh couldn’t trap her against the ropes or the buckles. Knowing Amara as she did, she fully expected the Bollywood Bombshell to lunge as soon as possible, so she was slightly surprised when Singh came to a halt well before they could clench. “Hello Amara.” Lemarchand noted as she closed the gap. “You’re looking much improved since last we met.”
Singh’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Hello Lenore. I see you’re even more insufferable since…”
“Since what?” Lemarchand arched an eyebrow.
Amara took a deep breath, let it out slow. “Since you had the temerity to treat me like the rest of the trash you so generously call rivals.” Singh raised her hands and began to circle, which forced Lenore to do the same.
“Now that’s not true, and you know it.” the Courtier countered. “I might’ve added your briefs to those of the other Madhouse interlopers, but YOU were the only one special enough to warrant an exit via palanq--”
Amara flicked out a slap, bared her teeth in disgust when Lemarchand caught her wrist an inch or two shy of her cheek. Blood boiling by dint of sheer proximity to her nemesis, Singh buried her free hand in Lenore’s hair and wrenched her head backward only to bare her teeth when Lemarchand did the same to her! “You dared heap shame on an Empress you filthy little bird.” Amara snarled as she jostled her foe’s head from side to side. “Tonight I repay that slight and every other NNGGHH!”
Lenore tossed Amara’s hand away, treated her to a brisk smack across the mouth, then stuck a finger under her nose and snapped, “You’ve always had a selective memory, princess. YOU started this fight. It’s not my fault you had to go into hiding when I finished MMMRRRRGGGGGHHH!”
Singh clamped down on Lemarchand’s cheeks and smashed ‘em together in a fish-face that was painful as it was galling! “You’ve finished NOTHING, brat!” Amara growled. “All you did was delay your inevitable humiRRRRRGGGGGHHHH!”
Lenore smacked Singh’s mouth again, then forced that palm into the Empress’ face and clamped down an Iron Claw!
“That’s an illegal grip, Keith!” Portia barked at Craig Long, who was already making his way to the action. “Make that scrawny Jersey let her go!”
“All right ladies. the people paid for a wrestling match, so let’s break those holds and--” Singh and Lemarchand twisted away from the official, the tethered brunettes stomping around in a wobbly, furious circle as they tried to leave their mark on the hated other. Knowing better than to waste his breath on another warning, Craig started after them and called out, “ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!”
Empress and Raven released their holds with mutual Bytch Slaps that immediately gave way to stereo Headlocks, the rivals snuggled up shoulder to shoulder (Lenore’s left to Amara’s right), then almost doubling over as each tried to take command of the hold. “Let. Go. Peasant!” Amara snarled. “Drop to your knees and beg for forgiveness before I OOOOOWWWWWWW!”
Lenore plunged a hand into Amara’s hair and yanked like she meant to take it for a trophy. “Do I look like Alexis to you? You’re not just gonna strut up to me and make demanOOOFFFFHHH!”
Amara yanked ‘em both upright and pumped one bronzed thigh into the trim alabaster expanse of Lenore’s tummy! The Kneelift combined with another violent bulldog-shake of her Headlock broke Lemarchand’s grip and allowed Singh to straighten up with a triumphant sneer. Making a point to grrrrrrriiiiiiind the Fair & Radiant Maiden’s temple into the point of her hip, Amara made her way to the nearest corner and slung Lenore into the buckles back-first.
“Mere demands are beneath an Empress, bytch.” Singh explained in the middle of thum-thum-THUMPING! several more Broadside Kneelifts into her foe’s abs. “I deal in EDICTS. And when one reaches your unworthy ears there’s no choice but to OBEY!” The Bollywood Bombshell punctuated with a vile constriction of the Headlock and her stiffest Kneelift yet!
Portia clamored for more and Singh meant to oblige the legend, but she made sure to release her grip and step away when Craig Long walked over to enforce the break. “Thank you, Amara.” he said with an appreciative nod. “Please head back to the middle of the ring so we can restart--”
CRAAACK was followed by ‘WOOOOO!’ when the former Eurasian Champion laid a nasty Knife-Edge Chop across Lemarchand’s décolletage.
“I feel no need for a change of venue, peasant.” Amara purred even as she filled her hands with the Raven’s dark hair. “I find this view supremely satisfying!” With that she yanked Lenore’s head forward and drove it back into the top turnbuckle with an ugly BWUUUNG! She managed a half dozen of these concussive collisions before Craig started a count, which merely prompted Singh to hook her thumbs into the corners of Lemarchand’s mouth for agonizing fishhook! “SHRIEK, PEASANT!” Amara bellowed into her rival’s distorted features. “SHRIEK FOR THE PLEASURE OF YOUR EMPRESS!”
Lenore made several ugly, garbled noises which could be described as shrieks, though none of them brought a halt to Singh’s ripping and tearing. In the end it was Long’s call of ‘FOUR!’ that freed Lemarchand and sent Amara on her way, the gold-clad battler kicking some invisible dirt on her adversary before she took a moment to bask in the disdain of the FAWNatics.
“Do you remember what I did to that useless lump of dead weight, Alexis?” she called. “That will be mercy compared to the pain I inflict upon this miserable scavenger bird!”
Returning her attention to the grimacing Courtier, Amara strutted up to her prey and paintbrushed both cheeks en route to snatching another massive handful of hair. “You were never worthy of sharing a ring with me.” Singh hissed. “Tonight I expose you for the farce you--”
Lenore exploded off the buckles to THUNK a Headbutt into the bridge of Amara’s nose! The Empress’ knees shimmied hard and she might’ve slopped sideways into the ropes if Lemarchand hadn’t grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and pulled her into the corner she’d so recently vacated. But where Lenore had found her rump scuffing the middle buckle, Amara found herself lodged chest-first, a position that grew all the more awkward when Lemarchand grabbed her arms and draped them over the top rope.
“I thought the Madhouse would’ve taught you the tiniest bit of respect.” Lenore raised her left foot, planted it in the center of Singh’s back and began to puuuuuuuuuuuuuuull the other woman’s arms backward in an augmented surfboard. “And yet every time you open your mouth it sounds like the same old bullshyt. Which means I don’t have to hold back when I’m kicking your ass!”
Lenore CRANKED back on those captured wrists, then pulled her foot away so she could deliver some stomps in time with Craig’s count. “ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!” Lemarchand let go and pushed off, the Fair & Radiant just driving her nemesis’ chest into the top turnbuckle to leave her huffing and puffing while Lenore raised the decibels of the crowd courtesy of her Raven sigil.
Seemingly enjoying having the full-throated support of the FAWNatics, never a certainty for any member of the Black Court, a crooked grin emerged on Lenore’s features and only grew wider when Lemarchand turned the sagging Singh to face her and lit her up with a blistering backhand Chop to the chest of the Empress. Amara’s body flinched as if it’s been hit by a kendo stick, the crowd ‘WOOOOING’ on time and doing the same with the second and third Chops, each impact reverberating through the arena.
The Raven’s claws latched onto Amara’s near wrist and she pivoted to toss the Bollywood Bombshell on her way, or so some most might have thought. Instead, she hung on and pulled Amara into a vicious Short-Arm Clothesline, decking the silenced Singh.
Lenore looked down on the wincing Indian with satisfaction.
“Guess you thought it would make a difference not meeting me in the Pit,” the brunette purred. “But we both know I’m better than you anywhere and in anything.”
Lemarchand leveled a stomp toward Singh’s forehead, but Amara caught her foe around the ankle and shoved Lenore away, the Raven stumbling off a few feet before turning toward a slowly rising Empress.
The bronzed beauty wasn’t quite quick enough to halt a delving Toe Kick to the tummy, Amara doubling at the waist, dark eyes bulging. Lenore tugged the lowered head into a Front Facelock and grabbed a handful of spandex on the opposite side. With a practiced ease, Lenore vaulted the bigger Singh into the air, stalling her rival with Amara’s boot soles pointed at the rafters. She let Singh’s legs fall back the way they came but only after pivoting so the shins of the Indian grappler hit the top rope. The limbs rebounded up and over as the Black Courtier PLANTED Amara’s spine into the canvas with a textbook Slingshot Suplex.
SLINGSHOT SUPLEX:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=e_wSmYnHvIg
The Empress arched in pain, grasping for her lower back and Lenore, who’s moved to a seat behind her foe, grabbed the limb and its counterpart at the wrists. She pulled back on both arms, driving a boot sole between Singh’s shoulderblades to apply another version of a Surfboard, working over Amara’s arms and spinal column.
“I can tie you in any knot you can name, even a BollyKnot if you ask nicely.”
“PeasanTUHHH!”
Lenore interrupted, removing her boot from Amara’s back and THUMPING it into the back of her foe’s skull. With Singh’s bell rung, the alabaster stems of the Raven slipped around either side of Amara’s neck and clamped tight, Lemarchand securing a Scissors, her legs flexing in relief as she poured on the pressure.
“Felling a little deja vous?” Lenore grunted as she contracted, turning the exotic features of the Subcontinental Siren a rosier shade. “From what I hear the winner gets a title shot at Becky and I’ve always wanted to defeat an Army.”
Planting her boot soles on the canvas, a grimacing Singh pushed against the canvas, rising off the mat and stacking the previously seated Lenore on her shoulders, rolling the Raven up behind her.
Craig slaps the canvas for…
ONE…
and…
TWO…
But the Courtier released the hold and shoved to her feet in time to safely stop Amara’s steal.
Trying her best to ignore the mounting pain, Singh pushed to her knees. But Lenore had an answer, rushing at the Bombshell from behind and POUNDING a raised knee into the back of Singh’s skull. Amara lurches forward, faceplanting and remaining stilled on her chest.
The Raven dropped to Amara’s side, rolling the insensate Singh to her back, and draped tight in a Lateral Press across the Indian’s chest for the…
ONE…
TWO…
The Empress spasmed to life, instinctively lifting a shoulder off the canvas, ending on her side next to a bemused Raven who playfully rifled the raven locks of her rival.
“I own an Empress,” Lenore said to no one in particular. “Wonder what you’d go for at retail?”
Lemarchand turned to a fuming Portia.
“Hey there lean and lascivious, how much for me to give her back to you in one piece?”
“Keep talking,” VanBuren growled under her breath, “and I’ll take you for a ride, no cost.”
Lenore sank a set of nails into a reeling Singh and pulled the battered Indian brawler to her feet before staggering her with a forearm blast to the jawline. Amara stumbled away, walking in fencepost holes but remaining upright until she flopped back-first into her corner, Baby just below.
“Stem the tide, Amara. Slow her down.”
As managerial advice went, it’s not of the million-dollar variety, and the gust of breath expunged from Singh when Lenore raced in and BURIED Amara with an ivory wave of an Avalanche Splash didn’t allow Singh to follow it.
As the shellshocked Empress faltered toward mid-ring, Lenore glanced down at Fortune’s Favorite.
“I didn’t hear you earlier. Did you have something to say?”
Portia’s emerald pools stared lasers at the willowy brunette.
“I tend to ignore Jersey swamp trash and the gas emanating from it,” VanBuren barked. “But it’s only a rule.”
“Any time, creampuff. I bet there’s still some pleading left in those sweet lips of yours.”
As Portia stewed silently, Lemarchand, having gotten the last word, turned to Amara. The Empress was in the opposite buckles, drawing in deep breaths, chin slumped to her chest.
The Raven raced across the ring for another catastrophic collision but as she closes, Singh leaned into the top buckle and raises her golden-brown gams high, the legs tightening in a Scissors around the head of the startled Courtier. Sweeping her stems toward her, Amara sent Lenore’s face CRASHING into the middle buckle below. The Siren pushed off the top, dropping to the canvas and spinning to face the penitent Raven.
Moving wearily to Lemarchand, Singh dipped and swept an arm across Lenore’s throat in a backhand grip. She pulled the gasping Raven to her feet and forced Lenore into a backpedal to the center via the Dragon Sleeper. Arched backward, there’s little Lenore could do, her balance and leverage gone. But instead of holding and draining the Raven, the Bollywood Bombshell blew up her nemesis with an Inverted DDT, the back of the Courtier’s cranium THUMPING into the thinly-sheathed plywood.
INVERTED DDT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=kbSBujpByeA
A pinning predicament pre-made, Amara slithered atop her rival in a full-body press, restraining the Raven in a single file of ivory-skinned grappler, arms above her head, secured there by Singh’s palms; chest flattening chest, pelvis tight to pelvis for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Lenore bucked the Bombshell enough to break the count and roll to her side.
“Feel it, peasant?” Amara whispered in the Raven’s ear, then shoved Lenore to her chest and rubbed her features into the abrasive canvas. “Your position below your Empress will soon be manifest.”
Pulling the scoured face of Lenore away from the deck, Amara punctuated with a ring-rattling SLAM of features to mat. She pushed to her feet and mounted Lemarchand in a forward-facing stance above the back of the splayed Raven’s waistline.
Singh glanced at VanBuren and Portia drew a thumb across her delicate throat, the Empress knowing full well what Baby wanted. The Indian grappler nodded in response, lowering her taut derriere toward the base of Lemarchand’s backbone to take a seat and apply the coupe de grace that is her Camel Clutch.
Understandably eager to punish the longtime thorn in her side, Singh reached down and grabbed hold of Lenore’s hair so she could haul the Courtier to her hands and knees before she’d secured her seat. This proved a mistake when Lemarchand jabbed her right elbow into the inside of the other brunette’s thigh, then crawled backward through Amara’s stems at the low, low cost of a few strands of dark hair. Cursing through clenched teeth as the Raven flitted from her grasp, Singh whipped around on her heel buried both hands in Lenore’s locks as she regained her foot--“NNNGGGHHH!” Lemarchand countered with a hair pull of her own, but rather than wrench and tear, she tucked her head beneath the Empress’ chin and dropped to her knees to pop Amara up on tiptoe with a Jawbreaker!
“Steady Amara!” Portia barked as her client lost all interest in denuding Lemarchand’s scalp. “Shake it off and--” the FAWN original trailed into disgusted silence when the Empress’ follow-up Toe Kick got caught a few inches shy of Lenore’s trim tummy. No hesitation from the Fair & Radiant Maiden, she tossed Amara’s leg down with such force it swept the limb backward, which in turn bent Singh over and made her an easy target for a Kneelift to the forehead!
KICK CATCH KNEELIFT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=JRFk34JQE3A
Amara wobbled in place without going down, so Lemarchand hooked her behind both knees and swept ‘em out from underneath to bring the Bollywood Bombshell to the deck. Tossing Singh’s right leg aside so she could focus on the left, Lenore threaded her legs around Amara’s thigh, then dropped backward and trapped the gam in a Figure Four as soon as she touched down. “RRRRGGGGGHHH!” Amara pounded a furious fist against the deck when Lemarchand trapped her wriggling foot beneath her right armpit and sent a strong pulse through her thighs to really crank the Kneebar.
KNEEBAR @ 00:06
www.youtube.com/watch?v=DzsaKnCxRnI
“Did you really think you were going to catch me in the Clutch that fast?” Lenore growled as she tried to twist Singh’s lower leg off at the knee. “You must be getting high on the smoke Portia’s blowing up your ass because NGH! NGH! NGH! NNNNHHHH!”
Singh scrambled to the best seat she could manage before bringing her right heel down on the sleek-strong expanse of her attacker’s right thigh. “Portia is not your concern, peasant.” the Empress countered. “She’s merely here to bear witness as I impose my will upon you once and for allAAAARRRRHHHH!” Lenore swatted her rival’s interfering leg aside, then reefed back on the Kneebar with such ferocity that Singh buried both hands in her hair to spread out the pain.
“Get your hands out of your hair, Amara. The ropes are close!” Baby’s tone was cold and controlled as ever, though a careful ear could detect an undercurrent of concern. “Get your elbows on the mat and follow my voice to-don’t you DARE ask her for a surrender, you striped idiot! My client is just FINE, thank you!” With Craig Long suitably rebuked, VanBuren resumed, “Follow my voice, Amara. Follow it and I promise nothing but victory and gold in your future.”
Teeth grinding, Singh did as bade, the gold-clad lovely regaining her seat so she could begin dragging their combined weight toward the ropes. “Since when do you need anyone in your ear?” Lemarchand grunted. “She wasn’t there when you humiliated me on the beach. Or when I returned the favor in Mumbai. She wasn’t there for any of it, princess. Not only that, she hasn’t had the guts to get into the ring since Alexis, you remember her, right? Since Alexis beat her sorry ass into retire--”
Singh made a final convulsive lunge to hook an arm around the bottom rope. “Get your FILTHY claws off me, peasROOOOOOOOPES!”
Lemarchand punished the former Eurasian champ’s vulnerable knee with another merciless squeeze, one that didn’t end until Craig rushed over and counted out, “ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!” Drawing herself into a seat against the strands as soon as the duplicitous Courtier let go, Amara pulled down her knee-pad so she could work out the worst of the kinks and strains.
“Take a moment on the floor, if you need it.” VanBuren advised. “Catch your breath, get your head back in this--”
“I will NEVER cede another battleground to that woman.” Singh hissed. “FAWN is MY domain and it’s high time she learned that.”
Portia offered her a supportive little noise that seemed to suggest she approved, but didn’t much care for the interruption. Amara paid it no mind, she reset her kneepad, then got to her feet and demanded Lenore clear off with an imperious flick of one hand. “Some room, if you don’t mind. Such proximity is galling if you’re not in the role of my throne.”
“Save the tough talk for the Suguitan’s of the world.” Lemarchand countered. “Unless you’re really interested in a frank discussion of what happened when you were MY thr--”
Amara exploded off the ropes with another Toe Kick that suffered the same last-second interception as its predecess--“EEERRRGGGHH!” The Bollywood Bombshell hunched forward over her exposed leg so she could slash her talons across Lemarchand’s surprised face! Clapping a Slap to the side of Lenore’s head even before she’d freed her foot, Amara snagged a handful of hair and wrenched the other brunette’s head backward so she could administer several more brisk shots.
“Beautiful, beautiful! Treat her like the trash she is!” VanBuren gifted her charge with a polite little golf clap as Singh segued from slaps to Broadside Kneelifts, the Golden Empress softening Lenore’s abs with half a dozen bludgeoning blows before she twisted around and caught her in a Side Headlock. No grinding this time out, Singh simply loped forward and took to the skies for a low leap that culminated in a comfortable landing for her and a ring-rattling THWONK for Lenore. Shoveling the Courtier onto her back in the aftermath of the Bulldog, Amara slid into a tight Crossbody and hooked the far leg up nice ‘n snug to keep her nemesis down for the…
RUNNING BULLDOG:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=AZ-e10K2HUk
ONE…
TWO…
Lenore reached out and grabbed the middle rope to force a break almost simultaneous with ‘TWO!’ “These will not save you, peasant.” Singh treated the rubber-coated steel to a disdainful swat. “Like everything else in this arena, they serve at my beck and call. You seem to have forgotten this fact, so allow me to remind you.”
On that imperious note she rolled Lemarchand back to her stomach, then got to her feet and reached over the second rope so she could pull her prey partway onto the apron. Lenore struggled to get a hand on the ropes to earn a second break, but Amara secured her biceps in matching claws and quickly draped them over the--“NNNNGGGGHHH!” No stopping the Bollywood Butt Bomb now, Singh straddled the American’s back and dropped to a seat that thumped every bit of her near hundred and forty pounds into the small of Lenore’s back! With the Raven’s arms draped over the middle rope and her head dipped just beneath it, Amara laced her fingers across Lemarchand’s chin and CRAAAAANKED backward on the augmented Camel Clutch!
“AAAAARRRRHHHH FAAAAAAHK!” Lenore shrieked from the confines of Singh’s pitiless grip. “RRRGGHHH LET GO YOU BYTCH, I’M IN THE ROPUUURRRRRHHHGGGGHH!”
Amara shifted from Chinlock to stereo Fishhooks, the Bronze Goddess slipping three fingers from each hand into the sides of her prey’s mouth to punish her with a proper peasant’s grin! “SUBMIT TO ME!” Singh bellowed down at the squirming Courtier. “BEG MY FORGIVENESS AND ACCEPT YOUR PLACE AS--”
“Break the hold, Amara! Break it right now! ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!”
Amara got up from her seat and stalked Craig Long all the way to the other side of the squared circle, a change in position that just so happened to leave Lenore all alone with Fortune’s Favorite.
Not one to miss an opportunity, VanBuren wrapped her palms behind Lenore’s neck, lacing her fingers and pulling the Raven’s alabaster throat atop the bottom cable. Lenore flailed wildly, her face turning from pink to red to purple, her oxygen cut off by Baby as Singh argued vehemently with Long. Grasping a shoulder to keep Craig from witnessing, Portia’s afforded more time to choke out Lemarchand, the FAWNatics furious, burying Baby in boos.
The deafening jeers eventually drew long’s attention. VanBuren let loose just in time, backing away, arms at her sides. She innocently batted her lids as a gasping, choking Lenore pushes to her feet and turned into a delving Toe Kick to the tummy from the Empress.
Amara cupped the brunette’s chin, lifting her foe back to something approaching vertical before blistering Lenore’s clavicle with a blazing backhand Chop. Singh put the Courtier on her heels when she landed another, then flat on her back when the Subcontinental Siren landed a third unanswered Chop!
Imperially, Amara stepped both feet atop Lenore, riding Lemarchand’s chest and tummy like a surfboard while holding the top rope with both hands. Using the springy cable, Singh leapt into the air, throwing her legs behind her then sweeping them back toward her target, POWERING both heels into her foe’s midriff, driving every last bit of air from the Raven, Lemarchand retching as she jackknifes around the impact point, dark eyes bulging.
“We’ve all been there,” a delighted Empress purred. “Every time I see you wrestle, I want to vomit.”
At the count of four, Amara hopped off her long, lean, steppingstone, sliding through the ropes before reacquiring her grip on the uppermost cable from the outside. As Lenore rolled from her chest to her back, a few feet removed from the strands, Amara launched with the help of the rubber-coated steel, vaulting over the ropes. Her golden-brown legs extended, she’s ready to drop the muscular limbs across chest and throat with a turbocharged Leg Drop.
But the Raven was playing possum. She rolled clear and Singh SPIKED her tailbone into the deck, Amara left to comically bounce in place, slipping her hands beneath her ass to cushion the throbbing pulses from around her hole.
Porta, patrician face buried in her hands, couldn’t believe the opening her charge provided. Slapping the canvas in anger, she shouted at Singh to reach vertical, but the Bollywood Bombshell was too busy massaging her coccyx to even consider rising off her kneading palms.
A still rosy-faced Raven wasn’t exactly rushing to her feet nearby, drawing in deep breaths while reaching one knee, keeping Amara in her sights. When the Empress finally showed some interest in getting off her backside, the Fair & Radiant Maiden was ready, stomping her right boot into the canvas, loading it for the inevitable. And when Amara turned to find her.
THWHACK!
The Super Kick proved a literal head turner, Singh pirouetting then staggering in a backpedal to her corner. Portia looked on in exasperation as Lenore collected Amara’s left leg, lifting it over the middle cable on one side, then did so with her foe’s right in the opposite direction.
“Far be it from me to get personal.” Lenore chuckled. “Ah. Who am I kidding? The more personal the better.”
Lemarchand jogged to the opposite corner, spun through a U-turn, and sprinted at the trapped Singh, Amara’s palms pushed toward her approaching foe, ‘washing windows’ in a plea for mercy. One that’s emphatically not answered.
Instead, the Raven delivered a gawdawful Penalty Kick to the Indian grappler’s kitty that had most of the men in the audience grimacing in sympathy pains and left Amara’s jaw dropping, the anguish emanating from her crotch putting her on tilt, dark eyes rolling back in her head.
Following Craig’s heated instructions, Lenore removed the bow-legged Bollywood Bombshell from her moorings, gingerly lifting and depositing Singh’s boots to the canvas. But the momentary mercy ended when Lenore moved beside the frozen Empress, grapevines her near leg with Amara’s and PLANTED her against the deck with a ring-rattling Russian Legsweep.
With one hand cradling the back of her skull and the other still buried between her trembling thighs, the Empress could manage little in the way of resistance as Lemarchand dropped to the canvas and slid out under the bottom rope. She grabbed a wrist of Singh’s, drawing Amara out with her so the Siren was eventually seated on the outside, staring back in the ring.
Turning from her target, Lenore reached over her shoulder for a Three Quarters Facelock around and under the chin of the golden-brown grappler. She pulled Singh’s cheeks to the edge of the apron and bid the Empress au revoir with a vicious Neckbreaker. The sight had VanBuren turning away and the crowd cheering in delight as the Indian’s skull and spine were rammed into the thinly-padded cement of the arena floor.
NECKBREAKER FROM THE APRON:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=f1xljS2Yww4
Amara cradled her bruised noggin with both hands while the Raven rolled to her feet. Instantly, Lenore was forced to react because Singh’s manager was charging. Catching movement from the corner of her eye, Lemarchand twisted out of the path of Fortune’s Favorite and scooped the Manhattanite off her feet on her hip. Holding the squirming, pleading Portia horizontally, cradled in her arms, the Raven lets Baby consider her trip to the concrete before delivering her there with a Sidewalk Slam.
SIDEWALK SLAM:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=f1xljS2Yww4
Stilled, VanBuren was disdainfully pushed aside by the Black Courtier. The Fair & Radiant Maiden rose next to Amara as Singh struggled to her feet, some precious seconds of recovery time gained for the Empress but at a terrible cost to the demolished manager.
With Craig’s count growing over her shoulder, Lenore snatched Amara by her ebony mane and a wrist and ran the former tag and Eurasian champion to the ring’s edge, tossing her bitter rival into the squared circle under the bottom rope.
Lemarchand climbed to the apron and took a moment of vanity to turn to the roaring FAWNatics, offering them her Raven sigil before sweeping between the cables to a rising Singh.
Amara threw a right cross, but it’s deftly blocked by a left forearm from Lenore. The Raven responded with a bludgeoning overhand right, connecting with Amara’s jaw, rocking the Bombshell. Singh returned fire but was blocked once more then NAILED by Lenore. The dance continues through three more blocks and thumping connections by Lemarchand until Amara was a wobbling, exotic ragdoll.
The Raven gutted the rubbery Amara with a kick to the tummy, doubling over her foe. One by one she collected a pair of underhooked arms, locking her digits and throwing her mass backward, laying out into a brutal DDT. The impact was ferocious, Singh standing on her head for a split second before tumbling over into a lifeless spreadeagle.
A luxuriating Raven rolled to her chest, crawls to her semiconscious foe, and dropped in a Lateral Press across Amara’s slowly rolling bosom for the inevitable…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOOOOOO!
Singh inched a shoulder off the mat with a whisper to spare, her show of resilience earning a relieved sigh from the still-recovering Portia and a groan of disappointment from the FAWNatics. Lenore proved neither relieved or disappointed, rather she looked quite resolute as she buried her hands in Amara’s hair and dragged the former Eurasian Champion to all fours. Drawing the penitent battler into a Standing Headscissors, Lemarchand caught a quick Waistlock so she could upend her adversary and--THWHUNK! She kicked both feet forward and dropped to her butt, all the better to spike the crown of Amara’s skull against the deck!
SNAP PILEDRIVER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ggDK9kIFds
Singh jolted loose of the Raven’s stems and slopped onto shoulder and hip only to finish up on her stomach when Lenore sidled in close and threaded her long legs around the Empress’ exposed noggin.
“NNNNNGGGGGGGGHHHHH!” Amara began to writhe and twist in response to that first gammy constriction, both hands swatting fitfully at her attacker’s encroaching thighs. Lemarchand greeted this with narrowed eyes and a clutching grasp, the Courtier using her left hand to snatch Singh’s left wrist away from her escape attempts. She could’ve neutralized Amara’s right hand as well, but instead she flattened her right hand into a paddle and warmed those haughty, squirming glutes with no less than half a dozen scintillating slaps!
“HOW DARE YOU!” VanBuren barked as her client was treated in a fashion more fit for Jersey trash than the Gold Standard for women’s professional wrestling in 2021. “Get your filthy hands off her or else I’ll-”
Lenore’s dark eyes turned to Baby as she very deliberately snatched hold of Amara’s waistband and raised it by more than six inches. “You’ll do what, Portia?” she asked over the din. “Tag in? I would LOVE to see you try.”
Portia’s upper lip curled in a disgusted snarl. When next she spoke, it was to Amara. “Fight out of there, Empress! Either break the hold or get to the ropes, the little winged rat can’t contain your--” More cringing from the FAWN Original when Lemarchand relinquished the wedgie for another round of callous spanking, her pitiless palm raising an angry red welt on the heretofore unmarred bronze of Amara’s buns.
“What do you say, Amara?” Craig held his query until after Lenore took a break to shake the sting from her hand. “Need me to call for the bell?”
“I need you to fall to your knees in adoration, peasant!” Amara hissed. “There is no way I’ll ever surrender to this AAAARRRRRHHHHH NOOOOOOOOOO!”
Lenore put both palms to the mat, crossed her ankles and lifted her butt off the mat so she could put even more pressure into that hellacious Headscissors. “But you have, Amara.” she huffed. “More than once, in fact. Tonight is only the latest piece of a repeating patt--”
“NEVER!” Singh bellowed as she abruptly powered to all fours, a condition made all the more impressive because her forehead was still scraping the mat. “YOU WILL NEVER AGAIN TASTE VICTORY AGAINST ME, PEASANTTHHHRRGGGGHH!”
Lenore raised her hips and brought them down to bonk Amara’s noggin against the thinly-sheathed plywood. “Keep telling me I can’t.” she muttered. “I’ll keep proving you wrong.”
Singh said nothing to that, instead she began to clamor and clamber and crawl in the direction of Portia’s voice. The journey was pure anguish, her world reduced to nothing but the cacophony of Baby’s reassurances, the roar of the peasants demanding she ‘TAP!’ and of course the pounding of blood at her temples as Lenore’s legs tried to pop her head clean off. After what seemed like an eternity (it was about twenty seven seconds) Singh’s flailing right hand found the bottom rope and gripped it tight. “BREAK!” she and VanBuren demanded simultaneously.
Lenore nodded to let Long know that she understood, then finished with a final crushing constriction, the Fair & Radiant Maiden forcing Amara to endure another ‘FOUR!’ seconds of Headscissor Hell.
The Bollywood Bombshell actually rolled back toward the center of the squared circle when she was freed, not because she didn’t desire some time on the outside, but because she didn’t dare risk getting caught in another Scissors as she made her exit. A bit surprised by Singh’s choice, Lemarchand slipped under the bottom rope and got to her feet on the narrow ledge of apron. She was lining up her shot on the Empress when fire licked down the full length of her right thigh!
“That’s just a taste, Jersey.” Portia explained after she’d scored the Courtier’s gam. “Just a taste of what’s in store if you get in my NGH!”
Lenore reared back and caught Baby with a Toe Kick to the sternum that sent her stumbling back in bug-eyed shock. Lenore blew her a kiss before returning her attention to Amara, who was on all fours with her back to the Raven. A tremor in those strong shoulders told her the Empress was about to rise, so Lemarchand grabbed the top rope, dropped into a deep crouch and sprang onto the top rope for-- VanBuren leapt onto the apron, caught hold of Lenore’s right ankle and tugged her backward so that the startled brunette lost her balance and dropped across the top rope with a gut-churning TWAAAAAANG!
Folded in half as soon as she bounced clear of that rubber-coated steel, Lemarchand landed awkwardly on her head and right shoulder before ultimately tumbling through to all fours. “GET UP AMARA!” Portia shouted from the outside. “CLUMSY JERSEY TRIPPED OVER HER OWN FEET, SHAKE IT OFF AND TAKE ADVANTAGE, DAMMIT!”
Amara fought to her feet, waving a desultory hand in Portia’s direction as she did so. Eyes clearing as she turned and discovered the gasping Raven, Singh threw herself into the ropes and bounced out full speed ahead. Lenore never saw it coming, her hair was still hanging in her eyes when the Empress dropped into a skid and THWHUNKED her right knee into the other brunette’s temple.
KISS FROM AN EMPRESS @ 1:53
www.youtube.com/watch?v=o4Tx3qGyY2Y
Blasted into a glassy-eyed sprawl by the Kiss From An Empress, Lenore was all knocking knees and juddering glutes when Amara dragged her out of the ropes and into a Standing Headscissors. “If you will not be a pet and you will not be a peasant,” Singh threaded her arms beneath Lenore’s biceps and clasped her hands to secure the Double Underhook. “Then you will serve as a warning to all those that might defy the coming of the Golden Dawn!” With that she bent down and hoisted Lemarchand ass over teakettle, the Raven’s toes pointed into the rafters until Amara swept around in a half circle and dropped to her butt to THA-WHAM Lenore down flat on her face, chest and belly!
BOLLYWOOD BASH:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=C9dzrMkc8mQ
Bounced onto her back by the Bollywood Bash, Lemarchand offered no resistance when Amara pounced across her chest and hooked the far leg for…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
Lenore twisted free of the cradle to the astonishment of everyone, perhaps Portia most of all. “STAY ON HER, AMARA! SHE’S ALMOST DONE, YOU HAVE TO PUT--”
Singh raised an index finger to the blonde, an imperious gesture that silenced VanBuren out of sheer surprise rather than actual deference. “I will gladly accept your counsel against any woman on this roster.” Amara said through clenched. “Save this one. She is mine. And mine alone.”
Portia grumbled something inaudible, not that Singh was paying her any attention now that she had both hands in Lenore’s hair. Dragging her nemesis out into the middle of the ring, she hauled Lemarchand to verticality and snuggled in on her right side. From there she hooked the brunette’s right arm in a Half Nelson and palmed the bottom of her right thigh in her right hand. “I’d been saving this for someone special,” Singh whispered in the Courtier’s ear, “but I guess you’ll suffice.”
Barb delivered, she gathered her reserves and flung Lenore up ‘n over in an involuntary back-flip that--THAWHUNK!Amara brought her left knee pistoning up into Lemarchand’s descending forehead with whiplash-inducing force that left the other brunette sprawled on her back in burbling semiconsciousness.
SINGH U 2 SLEEP @ 2:08
www.youtube.com/watch?v=o4Tx3qGyY2Y
Flashing a nasty smile in the wake of Singh U 2 Sleep, Amara dropped to her knees beside Lemarchand, cradled the far leg up nice and tight and pressed her gulping, sweat-tacky tummy into her foe’s features while the ref, the FAWNatics and Baby all counted out…
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!
The Empress nodded in satisfaction, though she didn’t deign to throw the Raven’s leg aside until the Announcer confirmed, “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner via pin-fall… AMARA SINGH!”
Gorgeous beak rising haughtily as she pushed to her feet, the Bollywood Bombshell hovered over the splayed Lenore, gazing calmly into the crowd like the wrestling royalty she proclaimed herself to be.
Quickly beside her was Fortune’s Favorite, Portia grabbed Amara’s near wrist and heaved the arm of Singh high, Baby pointing at her charge with her opposite index finger. Without missing a beat she drove a stomp to the Raven’s open belly, bringing Lemarchand retching back to life.
“Understand now, Jersey?” VanBuren shouted. “This woman rules all she surveys. And right now, she’s surveys you.”
Lenore started to open her quivering lips for a retort before Portia dove atop the defeated, ending in a Schoolgirl Pin, her folded legs bracketing Lenore’s noggin. Baby pressed a palm over Lemarchand’s mouth.
“SHHHH.”
The Raven frantically bucked VanBuren and she might have succeeded in escaping if Amara hadn’t leapt into her own straddle atop Lenore, Amara perching on the Courtier’s thighs, manager and wrestler riding the Raven in tandem.
A grinning Portia reached a hand behind her and a smirking Singh slapped it in solidarity.
Baby spun her seat in a 180, moving the juncture of her thighs from below Lenore’s chin to atop it, Baby exchanging her hand smother for a mug-encompassing seat on the brunette’s squirming features.
Portia rose momentarily to give Lemarchand a gasping breath.
“You’ll…”
The Raven was hastily interrupted, Portia settling down upon the wide-eyed face of the Courtier once more. She leaned forward to latch her claws onto the pert chest of the Raven, Baby squeezing to her heart’s content. Lenore squealed into the Manhattanite’s undercarriage.
“I do miss this,” Portia huffed to a snickering Singh, Amara keeping Lenore’s lower half pinned, making the Raven’s demolition a fait d’accompli.
Still, the Raven struggled on futilely for a dozen more seconds, weakly attempting to forge a miracle and failing miserably, her arms increasingly leaden, finally falling to her sides as VanBuren continued to grind forward and back atop her throne.
“I believe we’re done here,” the Empress assured and VanBuren nodded in breathless agreement.
Portia rose and moved to the ropes, calling for a microphone. She brought it to her lips as she rejoined Amara dead center, standing above a greasy-faced Lenore. VanBuren cast her gaze at the hard cam.
“Clayton! You once led a pathetic squad of Jersey miscreants that dismantled my Associates and battered me from pillar to post in the process. I’ve never forgotten that… that… humiliation and I’m telling you here and now that the ledger will finally be balanced next month. Because at MY behest, Empress Amara will be given the chance to strip you of your belt at March to War. If you have any doubts with regard to the outcome, please observe your fellow Black Court flunky. This is what awaits you!”
Baby dropped the mic with a ‘CLUNK’ atop Lenore’s softly rolling bosom and together Singh and VanBuren exit to the echoing jeers of the FAWNatics, hated but most certainly feared.