Post by SammieSinclair on Feb 7, 2015 17:16:25 GMT
With the crowd buzzing, anticipation rising for the next match in the Thrills, Chills and Spills New Years gift list, the PA blares to life.
“She's the kind of girl you bring home to your mother
She looks good in blue jeans even better under covers
She's a devil in bed between the sheets
Ask her if she's a saint and she'll get down on her knees and pray…”
With Silvertide’s “Blue Jeans” pulsing out over the speakers, Sophie Mitchell strides into view. And as she does, the FAWNatics erupt into a cacophony of cheers. The Mitchell daughter who remained true to her mother’s legacy and not turned into a greedy, selfish, self-involved brat strides confidently to centre stage. Though her wrestling career had been curtailed in recent years and her hateful sister had become the star of this generation, the love remains for Sophie. Having built a reputation as the stronger half of the company’s first tag team champions, the tall blonde has much good will remaining.
Sophie Mitchell
Sophie raises her arms high and waves to the FAWNatics as she starts her way down the ramp, the PA now heralding her arrival.
“Tonight’s next match is one fall with a 20-minute time limit. Hailing from Charlotte, North Carolina…” the announcer resumes, “… she stands 5 feet 9 inches tall and weighs in at 135lbs… SOPHIE MITCHELL!!!”
The cheers grow louder still, tinged with a note of “oh no she di’n’t…” when they realize she’s still wearing Ivy’s former trademark shorts won in a battle over her long time rival! If anything, owing to the slight difference in size between them, the cut offs threaten to be even more scandalous while adorning the blonde’s backside. Topside, Sophie’s modest bosom is cupped by a dark green bikini top. White pads and boots finish off the wardrobe.
Accepting the hands offered by the ringside fans, the eldest Mitchell takes a lap around the ring, slapping hands. Sophie hops onto the apron before slipping through the ropes. A “Welcome Back!” chant echoes through the arena, causing the blonde to pause for just a moment and thank the crowd.
The blonde moves to her corner where she stretches and awaits a challenge that could spark or again extinguish another return to FAWN prominence.
The FAWNatics dared to believe the former and yet, as an ominous clang resounded throughout the packed arena, no amount of New Year cheer could prevent them from fearing the latter...
As the houselights fell, an unnatural air of trepidation fell about the arena, the slow creep of darkness summoning a chill that was uncommon. A slim slit of crimson red illuminated through the curtains, the identity of the debuting competitor not a mystery and yet, from reputation and history, a palpable sense of unease gathered amongst those watching.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=XxlaJQGve7s
Erika Eisenberg emerged amongst the stark and piercing beat of those opening notes, the melody as unsettling as it was threatening. The combatant strode purposefully down the aisle, her strides long and powerful, an intense, cold, calculating glare emerging from behind her piercingly ice blue stare. Her every movement flawless, nothing wasted, she made her way without flinching towards the ring.
Erika Eisenberg
Attired in the skin of the dead, the blonde destroyer hugged tightly by the two piece, dark tan, snake skin top and slim line shorts, elbow long, fingerless gloves and knee high boots, she was every inch the Amazon the FAWNatics had imagined her to be. Slowly she circled the ring, refusing the acknowledge the crowd as though they were shades, she moved as a predator pinning down her prey, that stare, that piercing, hungry stare not leaving Sophie Mitchell within the squared circle.
Suddenly, with a burst of speed, she all but leapt up onto the apron, proceeding to almost effortlessly lift one long, stunningly powerful leg over the top rope, followed quickly by the other, a slight, mirthless smile finally rising to her coldly intense features.
“And her opponent, hailing from Berlin, Germany, standing at 5’9” and 140lbs, the Perfect Predator, ERIKA! EISENBERG!”
That smallest of mirthless smiles remained upon her features as the houselights returned, finding her own corner as though she owned it, her eyes unfaltering from their gaze of the blonde opposite. Perhaps mockingly, perhaps sincerely, she licked her lips, a long trail of her tongue, as the viper could hardly wait to sink her teeth in...
Mitchell does her best to try and ignore the intimidating presence of Eisenberg. After all, she'd faced some of the most frightening women in FAWN history and emerged on the other side. Still, Erika is a sight. The second generation superstar bobs and weaves to work off some nervous energy then pushes out of her corner at the clang of the bell. She circles as Erika does the same the statuesque blondes eventually meeting in the middle in a collar-and-elbow tie-up. Each works for leverage and the veteran Mitchell is able to tug Erika into a side headlock, looking to work the German's head and neck over as a little appetizer of what's to come.
A deep throated hiss was the answer as Eisenberg was dragged down into the grapple, her head snapped in tight against the hip of the other, powerful young blonde. Erika’s frame turned rigid, muscles tensing as her neck was creaked, the two powerful, young blondes circling slowly at centre ring as the elder Mitchell continued wrenching, trying to force the other powerhouse down onto one knee. She almost did, one stunningly long leg of the Python Powerhouse buckling, folding at the joint with a sharp jerk... that is until Eisenberg palmed a hand into the soft curve of Sophie’s back and shoved her free hand behind Mitchells knee, a heave and a “gggGGGROWL!!” accompanying an attempt to lift and back body drop the crowd favourite to the canvas!
Perhaps not realizing the German's power until on the receiving end, Sophie seems startled as she's lifted off the canvas by Eisenberg. Mitchell's arms circle wildly, her legs pumping as she tries to return to earth. But once airborne, even an inch, Erika has all the control she needs on the Carolina grappler. Eisenberg sends Sophie THUMPING to the canvas on her head and shoulders. Mitchell cradles her noggin after the impact, wincing. She rolls to her side to avoid any possibility of a pin attempt and starts to move to all fours with lesson learned.
The Dangerously Sublime Serpent was already uncoiling the moment they hit the canvas, slinking over onto her palms with predatory intent as her clear blues spied the simultaneous rolling of the ever so slightly smaller blonde, shoulders heaving in silence as her powerful thighs tensed. As the FAWNatics cried out a warning, Erika shoved forwards across the mat, impossibly long stems pushing her into a low dive as her arms whipped about, grappling to ensnare themselves around Mitchell’s deceptively delicate neck for an early, spirit sapping sleeper!
She breathed in deep as she grappled, writhing to ensnare the franticly wiggling blonde, Erika thrusting, snake skin sheathed hips against stolen, denim shorts, Eisenberg ecstatic at the scent of Sophia, her purr low and dangerous, “...I smell pedigree, I smell potential.”
Sophie gasps as Eisenberg's pelvis thumps into her derriere. And with Sophie on all fours, Erika's arms curl around Mitchell's head and neck, slowing blood flows at the carotid and temple. But before the corpuscles are restricted too much, Erika's words and actions goad Sophie into a response. "You'll smell defeat," Mitchell grunts over her shoulder as she tries to force her way up, knowing down to the mat meant defeat in the grasp of the serpent. As she reaches a stooped stance, the crowd ecstatic with Sophie's fight to keep the match going, Erika's long legs encircle Mitchell around the waist and the German adds a tight scissors around Sophie's ribs. Erika thrusts her pelvis once more to let a wobbly Sophie know who's in control and Soph can only moan in reply this time.
Lids getting heavier by the second, she struggles with her rider to the ropes, falling into them and holding on.
The Python only constricted further as they thumped to the mat, slipping her limbs about tighter now that she had ensnared her powerful prey so firmly. Her lips slipped into some sleek semblance of a smile as her thighs tensed, tightening about ribs as she slowly circled her hips. Erika jerked her already tensed bicep as the Official began counting, constricting her foes throat and forcing a pained gasp, unperturbed by the man’s insistence as he approached five.
She finally released only when she had to, Eisenberg forced to concede that the ropes had saved Mitchell from her will breaking embrace, allowing the gasping Sophia to roll away with the coils to protect her. With methodical precision, Erika rose to her feet with a slow spiral, raising her arms slowly to allow her fingers to trails through her own, gold tresses. “Defeat, yes,” she mused quietly before turning sharply, the swivel of her heel marking a violent shift her manner, cold, venomous intent matching her quick movements as she bent down, grabbed the choking Sophie by her own blonde mane, and dragged the other young woman back up to vertical.
“I smell your defeats,” she condescended as she wrapped one arm about Mitchells shoulders and thrust another between the first Tag Champions athletically stunning legs, preparing to deliver an impressive scoop slam, “so many, many failures.”
@3:04
www.youtube.com/watch?v=2APzaryS2qw&t=184s&list=PLPuOyWan3CRuQxw9tOEDtQOXqjYaH8o0X&index=18
Still trying to shake her senses back into place and not totally understanding how or why she is being scooped off the mat while still holding a rope, Sophie can't manage to counter the power of the Teutonic Tower. Erika lifts Mitchell onto her right shoulder and rips her fellow blonde away from the cable, freeing herself from the referee’s meddling. Eisenberg carries the squirming Mitchell to the middle of the ring and SLAMS Sophie down with wicked enthusiasm.
Soph hits with a heavy THUD, her spine arching in pain, gray-green eyes clenching shut. FAWN never did get easier in her absences, but this woman was quickly becoming a real eye opener. Mitchell scrambles up to one knee but seems stuck there, massaging her lower vertebrae with her left hand.
With her Prey knelt so penitent, the Perfect Predator was obliged to take advantage, circling the wounded blonde and, once behind, raised up her right hand and struck quickly, snapping her fingers down as a claw and digging her digits in deep into the sublime curve of her new rivals neck and the small of her shoulder, the nerve pinch applied with vicious desire. Almost before Sophie could fully express her shock, Erika raised her free hand upwards, driving the FAWNatics wild with concern before she dropped her second claw downwards, Eisenberg intent on assaulting both sides of the young woman’s throat with equally, nerve shredding grips.
The napes of Mitchell's neck are "massaged" in violent squeezes, the blonde grimacing in anguish as Erika works her fingers into the tasty muscles. Despite the pain and the inability of Sophie to use her arms to fight back, the limbs seemingly paralyzed by Eisenberg's grips, Mitchell manages to slowly rise to her full height. In doing so, she at least takes some of the strength away from the biting claws. With a corner behind them, Sophie starts to backpedal against the frame of the domineering German. Caught off guard, Erika is sent into a backpedal of her own, finally sandwiched between Sophie and the buckles.
Still fighting Erika’s dual claws, Mitchell throws her backside into Erika's lower abdomen and draws a 'GUHH' from the blonde beauty, a second thrust frees Sophie. She turns and drives a knee into the tummy of the German before grabbing a handful of golden locks. Spinning Erika to face the corner, Sophie draws Eisenberg's head back, ready to THUNK it into the top buckle time and time again.
An angry hiss escapes the lips of Erika as her own mane was yanked; her head wrenched backwards as her hands clench the top coils either side of the turnbuckle. She instantly became rigid, bracing herself to resist the promised bludgeoning, and perhaps she would have succeeded through strength alone had her tummy not so recently been pummelled, the fresh abuse to her steely, chiselled midriff forcing her to fold, her powerful frame this time buckling to the might of Sophie’s as her forehead was thrust forwards.
As Eisenberg collided with the top turnbuckle, the FAWNatics eagerly began counting, desperately hoping that they would be allowed to reach the all important TEN as Mitchell finally had the leverage to go to town. Erika GRUNTED!! with each THWACK!! as she her face was driven home, anger mixed in with shouts of pain until they passed the FOUR!! mark. That was when her resistance slackened, her deliciously immense frame juddering, fingers unclenching to allow her upper body to gradually flop forwards by inches, the increasingly shell shocked noggin of the Princess of Pythons bobbing upon slumped shoulders.
Soph pushes the wobbly German out of the corner and follows her from behind, raising an arm to rally the troops. When Erika absently turns toward her, Sophie lands a stiff forearm to Erika's jaw that staggers Eisenberg, but the Python keeps her feet. Sophie delivers another and another, determined to take Erika down, but somehow the powerful blonde remains vertical. Frustrated, Mitchell surges to Erika, her hands wrapping around the back of her fellow blonde's braincase and, as she does, Sophie pulls up her knees tucking her body toward Erika's chest, hoping to nail Eisenberg with a face breaker and finally put her on the mat.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=5OP6LvQftJg
As quickly as she was folded forwards, Erika shot back up to vertical, the CRACK!! of knees being rammed into her cold, classically beautiful features sending a shockwave rippling through every inch of her incredibly toned frame, the Amazon staring blankly into the distance. For a moment, much to the spectators horror, it seemed as though it was still not enough... until Eisenberg swayed and tumbled backwards, arms spread out to either side as she flopped to the mat, laid out in crucible and with fingers twitching.
Sophie scrambles to hands and knees and scurries toward the waylaid German. She plops her body down atop Erika's, hooking a long sinewy leg for...
ONE!
TWO!!
...and Eisenberg shoves Mitchell off, showing plenty to spare.
Sophie shows no frustration. Instead, she rises, bringing Erika's leg with her. She bends the long limb around the back of her neck, hoping to drop back to the mat and trap Eisenberg in a Stretch Muffler and make the German tap her way to a loss.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZxloM479g1g
The effect was almost immediate, Erika shocked rigid as one of the lusciously longest legs in wrestling was wrapped around the neck and shoulders of the blonde Mitchell as though the limb were a snakeskin scarf, the rest of the Amazonian Germans incredible physique all but buried front forwards against the canvas. The captured and tortured stem of Eisenberg trembled and tensed, the muscles, sharply defined, stretched and pulled to their maximum as the Harbinger of Horror heaved her pain against the mat with heavy breadths, her fingers clenched into fists as she was, for once, the victim of prolonged punishment.
The man in black and white dropped down onto the canvas, moving as close as he could bring himself to dare to check on the suffering blonde’s willingness to surrender. He opened his mouth to ask the question but then froze, uncertain and unsettled by what he was seeing as he looked upon the women’s features, the pain evident as it washed over Erika in waves, and yet her lips, blood red and vibrant, were curled into a quivering, dangerously enthralled smile.
Sophie casts a glance at the official and wonders why he's not asking if her foe wants to give in. "Ask her," she demands. He shakes his head. "She doesn't submit," he assures. Mitchell yanks the leg further, but when it elicits nothing more than a momentary grunt, she tosses the limb aside. Rising to her feet, the lithe blonde offers a frustrated stomp into the spine of Eisenberg then an elbow drop. She plasters herself on the back of Erika, wrapping an arm around the head of the German before pushing up into an amazing headstand. Reaching vertical, Mitchell starts to wrap her other arm around Eisenberg's noggin, trying to apply a sleeper in a most unusual way.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=4QR7tWjUo60
An astonished cheer rippled its way around the arena as Sophie opted to up the ante, going for the spectacular and feeding the Gladiatrix photographers to the point of frenzy as several flashes surrounded the ring.
Erika acknowledged none of it, a sharp grunt accompanying the tightening of a powerful noose about her throat, a persistent, soft groaning soon following, the Perfect Predator ensnared and being starved of oxygen. She thrust one arm up into the air as her fingers grasped at nothing, the toes of her boots scraping the canvas as her noggin was jerked and throat constricted, her dangerously divine frame pinned against the canvas across her front and her eyelids fluttering. Spasms ran the length of her body as her as her tight buttocks juddered, the upraised limb of Erika dropping by inches, her wrist wilting and fingers listless.
With a sudden surge of effort, perhaps reminded of a similar fate at the hands of Sayuki, Eisenberg began dragging herself towards the ropes; blindly refusing to accept what the FAWNatics hoped was inevitable.
The effort to keep herself from tumbling is difficult enough, but when Erika makes her way toward the ropes it quickly becomes unmanageable. She drops to the canvas, but keeps her grip in place, working on knocking out her foe rather than worrying about style. But the fight in Eisenberg remains too strong and the tall blonde yanks Sophie to the ropes before her blood flow grows too low. Erika wraps a palm around the bottom rope and demands a break.
Mitchell releases instantly, pushing to her feet. She backs off a few steps to an ovation from the FAWNatics while Erika shakes out her noggin, trying to draw her senses back into place. With Erika rising, Sophie decides she can't wait any longer. She grabs a wrist and drags a wobbly Erika away from the strands then close into a crossbody grip, Sophie's arm across Eisneberg's chest and over her far shoulder, Sophie ready to launch Erika up and over a shoulder to SLAM her down with a Uranage.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=-6FOMJ2ElCs
While initially pulled in tight as a snug little passenger, a woozy appearing Erika waited for the ascendant Sophie to bend her knees in preparation for a pop before pulling out sideways to create a few inches. Tensing her bicep, Eisenberg hammered her elbow into the temple of Mitchell, galvanised by the grunt of pain from her opponent before slamming home a second and, as the grip about her slackened, a third!!
With Sophia’s arms dropping, Erika pinned those limbs to the side of the other, hardbody blonde, the Python Powerhouse preparing to squeeze tightly, the brief Bearhug only a precursor to a swift suplex.
@0:40
www.youtube.com/watch?v=lko3DbY5D9M
Sophie grunts deep and breathy as Erika tightens her squeeze of Mitchell's midriff, her arms also trapped within those of Eisenberg, preventing any chance of reprisal. As the German dips to gather a bit more momentum, Sophie tries to block with a grapevining leg, but the idea proves too little too late. The power packed Amazon shows her stuff, lifting Sophie like a lightweight, and sending her flipping over to a mat-thumping CRASH landing. Sophie arches in pain, reaching for the base of her spine, usually bright eyes disappearing between lids clenched in pain from the airborne trip to the canvas and its resultant impact.
Erika’s own return to vertical was not a swift one, the Dangerously Sublime Serpent slow to recover even as the instigator of the most recent carnage. As one blonde arched in pain, Eisenberg remained near immobile, her arms outstretched and palms facing upwards towards the heavens, eyes of coldest blue half lidded and breathing both slow and shallow. Just as it seemed as though Sophia might be the first to recover, the blonde enwrapped in snakeskin slipped a cruel smile across her lips as she slid from fatigued to recovered as though she were fuelled by misery, the statuesque European rolling to her front and advancing upon her hands and knees with predatory grace.
Just as a wincing Mitchell had returned to sitting, all the warnings in all of Orlando were not enough to make her realise that the horror was behind her and, as Erika pushed up to kneeling, her first sign of danger was when her head was YANKED backwards by a vicious handful of her blonde tresses, and Eisenberg prepared to rain down a blistering storm of thunderous forearms to her exposed bosom.
The pain of her fall to earth still reducing the concentration on her foe's whereabouts, Sophie doesn't notice the approach of Eisenberg despite the FAWNatics' efforts. The second generation superstar only seems to realize when Erika entwines her fingers in Mitchell's long golden locks.
The German draws the Carolina girl's head back, leaving Sophie's chest open upon which to rain down blows. Erika takes advantage, THUMPING down forearm shiver, one after the other until the crowd is drawn to count along for...
EIGHT!
NINE!!
TEN!!!
Only the ref's complaint over Eisenberg's handful of hair brings the barrage to an end. Erika releases the follicles and lands one more blow that flattens Sophie to the canvas, the blonde wincing in pain, her breasts battered and bruised and now draped by a protective arm. The other is used to roll Sophie to her side, moving her bosom out of the direct line of fire.
If her impressive cleavage was to the continued target of Erika’s cold simmering malice, Mitchell could consider herself well guarded, but Eisenberg was intent upon new desires that saw her move into a slow straddle across the other blondes hips. With viperous intent, even before she settled, Erika lashed out with both of her claws and wrapped her fingers about Sophia’s throat, tightening her grip about the soft flesh until the hardbody within her grasp began to gag and desperately kick out with her heels.
Even as the astonished Official could even bring himself to issue a fresh warning, the Princess of Pythons was already rising, retaining her cruel grip whilst pushing herself slowly up to standing, draaaaging Mitchell up vertical as painfully as possible, the choke hold, at least momentarily, proving to be enough to keep the struggling blonde within her grasp susceptible to her wishes. This, however, was only the beginning, Erika HEEEEEEAVING with a ravenous cry as her incredible frame pulsed with effort, Eisenberg silencing the FAWNatics as she moved to Gorilla Press the second Hardbody clear above her head...
@start
www.youtube.com/watch?v=zmfAIa811VM
The crowd looks on in amazement as Sophie, a sizable grappler in her own right, is flung over and across Eisenberg's shoulders into a fireman's carry. The red-faced and gasping Mitchell seems to realize the peril of her predicament from the look on her face, but is unable to mount an elbow barrage to counter out. Instead, Erika gathers her resources and presses the wide-eyed blonde far over her head, gorilla-style with a hint of Python Power. The crowd is silenced in awe as Erika walks in a circle to show off her prize to all sides of the house. Sophie shakes her head in anxiety, knowing she has nowhere to go but down and down is where she goes when Erika decides she's had enough. Releasing, gravity takes its hold on Mitchell and she falls, but not directly to the mat.
The malicious German genuflects below the plummeting Sophie and GUTS her foe, the bony joint impaling Mitchell's tummy. Sophie rolls off the knee and flops to the mat on her back, hugging her roiling belly.
Erika, bosom rising, slow and methodical, lingers upon the moment as her eyes, pale blue and piercing, turned her cool gaze upon the gagging Mitchell with cruel, hungry intent. Silently she observed the suffering blonde left demolished at her feet, the palm of Eisenberg’s hand massaging her own, raw throat, cold even to her own touch and yet blistered red by her equally powerful rivals suffocating grip.
For now she made no comment, not as she struck with unexpected swiftness, a cruel punt catching Sophie in the side and forcing her to roll over, the Princess of Pythons suddenly swooping down and, with one claw ready, snatched and dug her fingers deep into the scruff of her opponent’s neck.
As her digits sunk deep into all too yielding flesh, the instinctive reaction of the Official was to protest an illegal choke hold, only to realise that Eisenberg was doing no such thing, regardless of the violence of her strike, and the words died as a stutter upon his lips.
Instead, with a snarl emerging from her blood red own, Erika used her vindictive grip to yank Sophie back up to vertical by way of several sharp jerks and severe shakes, Eisenberg as cruel as any feline with her prey as she prepared to worry Mitchells glorious frame into a crippling Abdominal Stretch.
Shifting her long sinewy left leg around the front of the groaning Mitchell, Erika forces Sophie's torso down across the limb. With her fellow blonde bent in front of her, Eisenberg straps her powerful frame perpendicular across the back of the second-generation superstar. With both arms free, Erika captures Sophie's far arm with her left and wraps her right around Mitchell's neck, wrenching her foe across bended knee. With Erika's catch wrapped in her coils, she sends pulse after pulse of power into Sophie, shredding at her midriff, Sophie mewling in pain with every nasty tug. Sophie tries to power out with a hip toss, but Erika's size and strength won't allow it. The official asks Mitchell if she wants to give in, but a shake of the blonde's head makes it known she won't surrender, yet.
Erika did not appear to be overly disappointed, if anything the pitiless smile that slowly quirked the corners of her lips seemed only to tick open wider, the blonde that was in the ascendency leaning forwards to whisper sweet nothings for Sophie and Sophie alone. “You, you are the failure of you family,” she cooed with disturbing malice, “finishing you will be a mercy.”
With nothing but a moan to answer, Eisenberg released her hold, but even as she uncoiled and Mitchell’s body was flooded with relief, the Harbinger of Horror was transitioning to her next torment. Spinning Sophie around, Erika ducked low for just a moment, slipped and arm between a pair of impossibly long legs, releasing a grunt of her own as she returned the suffering Mitchell back to a perch across her shoulders, only this time she intended to begin wrenching the other young women in half with the most vicious Argentine Backbreaker known to man...
@3:00
www.youtube.com/watch?v=hAF6mcatMvA
Sophie wriggles within Erika's fireman's carry, trying to slip down Eisenberg's back and take to her offensive array, but the German's grip is cinched tight. And when Erika pulls her arms forward, she starts to bend the spine of Mitchell in ways it was never meant to bow. But the finishing touch is placed when Erika sits out and the jarring end to the ride looks to snap the backbone of the Carolina grappler. The force of the impact sends Sophie spinning to her back, Cynthia's sister spreading out in a anguished spread eagle at Erika's back, the battle with the power packed Python taking a terrible toll on Mitchell. Erika gazes over her shoulder imperiously and doesn't bother with a pinning attempt on the waylaid Sophie.
It appeared as though she had some far tastier temptation in mind as the tip of her tongue trailed slowly across her upper lip, her unsettling smile threatening to return with each, silent inhale. Eisenberg slowly brought herself about, silkily bearing down on Mitchell as she prowled forwards upon her palms, stopping only to reach out and tug her opponent gently up to sitting. Slipping her own firm, snake skin wrapped buttocks forwards, Erika sat possessively upon Sophie’s compliant lap, Eisenberg slipping her impossibly long, impossibly dangerously stems out into her V before SNAPPING them shut, Erika leaning her bosom forwards into her rival blondes and prepared to PULSE her thighs for an agonising bodyscissor.
Mitchell's pliant body is pulled to a seat rather easily, Erika starting to impose her will on the FAWN original. Erika takes her place in her foe's lap and only when Eisenberg snuggles close does Sophie seem to realize the Python's proximity. The legs of the German snap tight around either set of ribs, CRUSHING them and halting Sophie from sucking in a deep breath. Above, Erika piles on with a bearhug, her arms wrapping around the shoulder blades of her rival. Her fellow blonde attaching to her like the deadly boa, Sophie wriggles and shakes, but can barely move Erika. Her arms flail wildly and finally can only choose to send some weak fists into Erika's back the German shakes off. Sophie's struggles grow more uncoordinated as she starts to shut down under the constricting power of the Python's limbs.
“Shhhhhhhhhhh,” Eisenberg cooed with a calm, sweet tenderness that caused the skin to prickle and the wilting Mitchell to groan, the Teutonic Terror sat gloriously upon her increasingly submissive throne grinding two pairs of hips together in slow, hypnotic circles. The FAWNatics were enthralled into horrified silence, the lights themselves surely dimming as one valiant blonde gradually succumbed to the tightening embrace of another, Erika tucking her head forwards to nuzzle her lips into the small of her rivals throat, plucking at the women’s skin as it shivered and soon, inevitably, Eisenberg began suckling upon her tender treat, claiming her pound of flesh.
An increasingly worried Official moved in to begin checking the barely responsive Mitchell, only to be thwarted in his efforts to end the match and bring her suffering to a close as Erika, inexplicably, voluntarily released her own, match winning embrace. Without a word of explanation, Eisenberg uncurled and, whilst keeping a limp limbed Mitchell sitting with a fierce handful of hair, unfurled her way back up to standing. With her free hand the dominant blonde gripped Sophie’s cheeks together with a sharp pinch, shaking her rivals head to rouse her as she leaned forwards, her lips becoming a threatening snarl as the FAWNatics realised what she was doing.
She wanted to entice from Sophie a surrender, not to end pain she was in... but to evade any further.
“Plead with me for mercy,” Erika insisted, scrunching those cheeks a little harder, “and I’ll let you go. Plead with me for mercy, or you will be broken.”
Sophie shakes her head both to try and settle some of her blurred senses back into place and as a rather unconvincing 'no'. She also draws in lung-filling gulps of air, the combination of scissors and hug leaving her in a severe deficit. The battle-tested blonde tries to offer a loud firm verbal 'NO', but it comes out as a squeaky, uncertain 'nuh' followed by a breathless 'uh'.
Sophie's hands move to Erika's wrist and try to push the German's grip from her flaxen locks. "Cynthia may be a quitter, but I'm not," Sophie affirms with a slightly stronger voice, the increased oxygen giving her will a boost. "And you are going to look silly when you're looking up at muhhh..." Sophie didn't get a chance to finish as Erika swings her head wildly from side to side, rattling Mitchell's braincase and ending her response emphatically.
With Mitchell suitably silenced, Erika kept the other powerful blondes head still long enough to lean forwards and bring their lips tightly together, breathing deeply as if she seemed intent of steeling Sophie’s last breath in one last act of domination. Of course, as she released the lip lock with a loud pluck, this was far from being truthful as the Perfect Predator stepped backwards, dragging her dazed and rubber limbed rival with her towards a semblance of vertical.
She did not need to remain that way for long, Eisenberg tucking her forwards and applying a standing headscissors, biceps already flexing as she slipped her arms beneath her opponents trim, gulping tummy, the FAWNatics panicking as one was they recognised what was to come...
Last Breadth@1:15
www.youtube.com/watch?v=bevdRipdhY8
The Teutonic Tower heaves and flips Sophie up her body, catching the limp and lethargic blonde on her shoulders. Instead of balling her fists and letting loose with a torrents of blows, the battered Mitchell's arms lay limp at her sides, head drooping. The FAWNatics show more energy than what's left in the spent tank of Sophie. And at Erika's choosing the German drops. But not with any powerbomb. Instead she ends on the canvas with her knees pointed upward and skewers the spine of Sophie. The impact is violent and draws more than a few 'ooohs' from the sell out crowd. The pain in her vertebrae seems to waken Sophie to a degree, the tall blonde nearly torn in two, her twisted features echoing the anguish, but it does nothing to her help her broken body and she ends on her side curled in a foetal ball, frozen in place, whimpering.
Whilst a pinfall would surely be upon the mind of any other competitor, Erika opts for her own, personal brand of assuring victory, saddling up behind her rival and, nestled up along a near broken back, set about applying a fresh sleeper, long stems soon following to reapply a rear bodyscissor, Eisenberg finally content to take her opponent under, hips jerking sharply against the firm buttocks of her foe.
As Sophie's arms snake around Mitchell's noggin, cinching tight around her throat and a temple, Erika cuts off the bloodflow to her foes brain, another scissors quickly working on reducing the air while panicking the embattled Sophie with pressure and pain. The combination quickly leaves Soph a desperate and outmatched grappler, her arms swaying like reeds in the wind before flopping to the deck, limp. Spit bubbles dribble from between her lips as her green eyes cross, Erika's cool smile in contrast to the dazed vacancy in Mitchell's features.
Worried when Sophie spasms to a stop, the official steps in and raises a wrist. It drops like lead to the deck and no one in the house is surprised when he does so two further times in succession, the only movement Sophie's pink tongue poking out from pursed lips. The man calls for the bell and the PA quickly trumpets behind.
"Your winner...by knockout...Erika Eisenberg."
The FAWNatics can’t quite bring themselves to find the courage necessary to begin booing the result, no-one willing to break the foreboding silence and bring attention to themselves as Eisenberg constricted their favourite into unconscious submission.
Erika did not acknowledge them, nor the result immediately, not as she inhaled deeply and retained her fearsome grip, breathing in the scent of her powerful rivals hair and savouring the scent of her defeat. As the houselights began to fade, Mitchell still securely within Eisneberg’s possession as the two figures gradually disappeared from sight, the Spectators could only be left to wonder as to who would be next to be fed to Eisenberg...
“She's the kind of girl you bring home to your mother
She looks good in blue jeans even better under covers
She's a devil in bed between the sheets
Ask her if she's a saint and she'll get down on her knees and pray…”
With Silvertide’s “Blue Jeans” pulsing out over the speakers, Sophie Mitchell strides into view. And as she does, the FAWNatics erupt into a cacophony of cheers. The Mitchell daughter who remained true to her mother’s legacy and not turned into a greedy, selfish, self-involved brat strides confidently to centre stage. Though her wrestling career had been curtailed in recent years and her hateful sister had become the star of this generation, the love remains for Sophie. Having built a reputation as the stronger half of the company’s first tag team champions, the tall blonde has much good will remaining.
Sophie Mitchell
Sophie raises her arms high and waves to the FAWNatics as she starts her way down the ramp, the PA now heralding her arrival.
“Tonight’s next match is one fall with a 20-minute time limit. Hailing from Charlotte, North Carolina…” the announcer resumes, “… she stands 5 feet 9 inches tall and weighs in at 135lbs… SOPHIE MITCHELL!!!”
The cheers grow louder still, tinged with a note of “oh no she di’n’t…” when they realize she’s still wearing Ivy’s former trademark shorts won in a battle over her long time rival! If anything, owing to the slight difference in size between them, the cut offs threaten to be even more scandalous while adorning the blonde’s backside. Topside, Sophie’s modest bosom is cupped by a dark green bikini top. White pads and boots finish off the wardrobe.
Accepting the hands offered by the ringside fans, the eldest Mitchell takes a lap around the ring, slapping hands. Sophie hops onto the apron before slipping through the ropes. A “Welcome Back!” chant echoes through the arena, causing the blonde to pause for just a moment and thank the crowd.
The blonde moves to her corner where she stretches and awaits a challenge that could spark or again extinguish another return to FAWN prominence.
The FAWNatics dared to believe the former and yet, as an ominous clang resounded throughout the packed arena, no amount of New Year cheer could prevent them from fearing the latter...
As the houselights fell, an unnatural air of trepidation fell about the arena, the slow creep of darkness summoning a chill that was uncommon. A slim slit of crimson red illuminated through the curtains, the identity of the debuting competitor not a mystery and yet, from reputation and history, a palpable sense of unease gathered amongst those watching.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=XxlaJQGve7s
Erika Eisenberg emerged amongst the stark and piercing beat of those opening notes, the melody as unsettling as it was threatening. The combatant strode purposefully down the aisle, her strides long and powerful, an intense, cold, calculating glare emerging from behind her piercingly ice blue stare. Her every movement flawless, nothing wasted, she made her way without flinching towards the ring.
Erika Eisenberg
Attired in the skin of the dead, the blonde destroyer hugged tightly by the two piece, dark tan, snake skin top and slim line shorts, elbow long, fingerless gloves and knee high boots, she was every inch the Amazon the FAWNatics had imagined her to be. Slowly she circled the ring, refusing the acknowledge the crowd as though they were shades, she moved as a predator pinning down her prey, that stare, that piercing, hungry stare not leaving Sophie Mitchell within the squared circle.
Suddenly, with a burst of speed, she all but leapt up onto the apron, proceeding to almost effortlessly lift one long, stunningly powerful leg over the top rope, followed quickly by the other, a slight, mirthless smile finally rising to her coldly intense features.
“And her opponent, hailing from Berlin, Germany, standing at 5’9” and 140lbs, the Perfect Predator, ERIKA! EISENBERG!”
That smallest of mirthless smiles remained upon her features as the houselights returned, finding her own corner as though she owned it, her eyes unfaltering from their gaze of the blonde opposite. Perhaps mockingly, perhaps sincerely, she licked her lips, a long trail of her tongue, as the viper could hardly wait to sink her teeth in...
Mitchell does her best to try and ignore the intimidating presence of Eisenberg. After all, she'd faced some of the most frightening women in FAWN history and emerged on the other side. Still, Erika is a sight. The second generation superstar bobs and weaves to work off some nervous energy then pushes out of her corner at the clang of the bell. She circles as Erika does the same the statuesque blondes eventually meeting in the middle in a collar-and-elbow tie-up. Each works for leverage and the veteran Mitchell is able to tug Erika into a side headlock, looking to work the German's head and neck over as a little appetizer of what's to come.
A deep throated hiss was the answer as Eisenberg was dragged down into the grapple, her head snapped in tight against the hip of the other, powerful young blonde. Erika’s frame turned rigid, muscles tensing as her neck was creaked, the two powerful, young blondes circling slowly at centre ring as the elder Mitchell continued wrenching, trying to force the other powerhouse down onto one knee. She almost did, one stunningly long leg of the Python Powerhouse buckling, folding at the joint with a sharp jerk... that is until Eisenberg palmed a hand into the soft curve of Sophie’s back and shoved her free hand behind Mitchells knee, a heave and a “gggGGGROWL!!” accompanying an attempt to lift and back body drop the crowd favourite to the canvas!
Perhaps not realizing the German's power until on the receiving end, Sophie seems startled as she's lifted off the canvas by Eisenberg. Mitchell's arms circle wildly, her legs pumping as she tries to return to earth. But once airborne, even an inch, Erika has all the control she needs on the Carolina grappler. Eisenberg sends Sophie THUMPING to the canvas on her head and shoulders. Mitchell cradles her noggin after the impact, wincing. She rolls to her side to avoid any possibility of a pin attempt and starts to move to all fours with lesson learned.
The Dangerously Sublime Serpent was already uncoiling the moment they hit the canvas, slinking over onto her palms with predatory intent as her clear blues spied the simultaneous rolling of the ever so slightly smaller blonde, shoulders heaving in silence as her powerful thighs tensed. As the FAWNatics cried out a warning, Erika shoved forwards across the mat, impossibly long stems pushing her into a low dive as her arms whipped about, grappling to ensnare themselves around Mitchell’s deceptively delicate neck for an early, spirit sapping sleeper!
She breathed in deep as she grappled, writhing to ensnare the franticly wiggling blonde, Erika thrusting, snake skin sheathed hips against stolen, denim shorts, Eisenberg ecstatic at the scent of Sophia, her purr low and dangerous, “...I smell pedigree, I smell potential.”
Sophie gasps as Eisenberg's pelvis thumps into her derriere. And with Sophie on all fours, Erika's arms curl around Mitchell's head and neck, slowing blood flows at the carotid and temple. But before the corpuscles are restricted too much, Erika's words and actions goad Sophie into a response. "You'll smell defeat," Mitchell grunts over her shoulder as she tries to force her way up, knowing down to the mat meant defeat in the grasp of the serpent. As she reaches a stooped stance, the crowd ecstatic with Sophie's fight to keep the match going, Erika's long legs encircle Mitchell around the waist and the German adds a tight scissors around Sophie's ribs. Erika thrusts her pelvis once more to let a wobbly Sophie know who's in control and Soph can only moan in reply this time.
Lids getting heavier by the second, she struggles with her rider to the ropes, falling into them and holding on.
The Python only constricted further as they thumped to the mat, slipping her limbs about tighter now that she had ensnared her powerful prey so firmly. Her lips slipped into some sleek semblance of a smile as her thighs tensed, tightening about ribs as she slowly circled her hips. Erika jerked her already tensed bicep as the Official began counting, constricting her foes throat and forcing a pained gasp, unperturbed by the man’s insistence as he approached five.
She finally released only when she had to, Eisenberg forced to concede that the ropes had saved Mitchell from her will breaking embrace, allowing the gasping Sophia to roll away with the coils to protect her. With methodical precision, Erika rose to her feet with a slow spiral, raising her arms slowly to allow her fingers to trails through her own, gold tresses. “Defeat, yes,” she mused quietly before turning sharply, the swivel of her heel marking a violent shift her manner, cold, venomous intent matching her quick movements as she bent down, grabbed the choking Sophie by her own blonde mane, and dragged the other young woman back up to vertical.
“I smell your defeats,” she condescended as she wrapped one arm about Mitchells shoulders and thrust another between the first Tag Champions athletically stunning legs, preparing to deliver an impressive scoop slam, “so many, many failures.”
@3:04
www.youtube.com/watch?v=2APzaryS2qw&t=184s&list=PLPuOyWan3CRuQxw9tOEDtQOXqjYaH8o0X&index=18
Still trying to shake her senses back into place and not totally understanding how or why she is being scooped off the mat while still holding a rope, Sophie can't manage to counter the power of the Teutonic Tower. Erika lifts Mitchell onto her right shoulder and rips her fellow blonde away from the cable, freeing herself from the referee’s meddling. Eisenberg carries the squirming Mitchell to the middle of the ring and SLAMS Sophie down with wicked enthusiasm.
Soph hits with a heavy THUD, her spine arching in pain, gray-green eyes clenching shut. FAWN never did get easier in her absences, but this woman was quickly becoming a real eye opener. Mitchell scrambles up to one knee but seems stuck there, massaging her lower vertebrae with her left hand.
With her Prey knelt so penitent, the Perfect Predator was obliged to take advantage, circling the wounded blonde and, once behind, raised up her right hand and struck quickly, snapping her fingers down as a claw and digging her digits in deep into the sublime curve of her new rivals neck and the small of her shoulder, the nerve pinch applied with vicious desire. Almost before Sophie could fully express her shock, Erika raised her free hand upwards, driving the FAWNatics wild with concern before she dropped her second claw downwards, Eisenberg intent on assaulting both sides of the young woman’s throat with equally, nerve shredding grips.
The napes of Mitchell's neck are "massaged" in violent squeezes, the blonde grimacing in anguish as Erika works her fingers into the tasty muscles. Despite the pain and the inability of Sophie to use her arms to fight back, the limbs seemingly paralyzed by Eisenberg's grips, Mitchell manages to slowly rise to her full height. In doing so, she at least takes some of the strength away from the biting claws. With a corner behind them, Sophie starts to backpedal against the frame of the domineering German. Caught off guard, Erika is sent into a backpedal of her own, finally sandwiched between Sophie and the buckles.
Still fighting Erika’s dual claws, Mitchell throws her backside into Erika's lower abdomen and draws a 'GUHH' from the blonde beauty, a second thrust frees Sophie. She turns and drives a knee into the tummy of the German before grabbing a handful of golden locks. Spinning Erika to face the corner, Sophie draws Eisenberg's head back, ready to THUNK it into the top buckle time and time again.
An angry hiss escapes the lips of Erika as her own mane was yanked; her head wrenched backwards as her hands clench the top coils either side of the turnbuckle. She instantly became rigid, bracing herself to resist the promised bludgeoning, and perhaps she would have succeeded through strength alone had her tummy not so recently been pummelled, the fresh abuse to her steely, chiselled midriff forcing her to fold, her powerful frame this time buckling to the might of Sophie’s as her forehead was thrust forwards.
As Eisenberg collided with the top turnbuckle, the FAWNatics eagerly began counting, desperately hoping that they would be allowed to reach the all important TEN as Mitchell finally had the leverage to go to town. Erika GRUNTED!! with each THWACK!! as she her face was driven home, anger mixed in with shouts of pain until they passed the FOUR!! mark. That was when her resistance slackened, her deliciously immense frame juddering, fingers unclenching to allow her upper body to gradually flop forwards by inches, the increasingly shell shocked noggin of the Princess of Pythons bobbing upon slumped shoulders.
Soph pushes the wobbly German out of the corner and follows her from behind, raising an arm to rally the troops. When Erika absently turns toward her, Sophie lands a stiff forearm to Erika's jaw that staggers Eisenberg, but the Python keeps her feet. Sophie delivers another and another, determined to take Erika down, but somehow the powerful blonde remains vertical. Frustrated, Mitchell surges to Erika, her hands wrapping around the back of her fellow blonde's braincase and, as she does, Sophie pulls up her knees tucking her body toward Erika's chest, hoping to nail Eisenberg with a face breaker and finally put her on the mat.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=5OP6LvQftJg
As quickly as she was folded forwards, Erika shot back up to vertical, the CRACK!! of knees being rammed into her cold, classically beautiful features sending a shockwave rippling through every inch of her incredibly toned frame, the Amazon staring blankly into the distance. For a moment, much to the spectators horror, it seemed as though it was still not enough... until Eisenberg swayed and tumbled backwards, arms spread out to either side as she flopped to the mat, laid out in crucible and with fingers twitching.
Sophie scrambles to hands and knees and scurries toward the waylaid German. She plops her body down atop Erika's, hooking a long sinewy leg for...
ONE!
TWO!!
...and Eisenberg shoves Mitchell off, showing plenty to spare.
Sophie shows no frustration. Instead, she rises, bringing Erika's leg with her. She bends the long limb around the back of her neck, hoping to drop back to the mat and trap Eisenberg in a Stretch Muffler and make the German tap her way to a loss.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZxloM479g1g
The effect was almost immediate, Erika shocked rigid as one of the lusciously longest legs in wrestling was wrapped around the neck and shoulders of the blonde Mitchell as though the limb were a snakeskin scarf, the rest of the Amazonian Germans incredible physique all but buried front forwards against the canvas. The captured and tortured stem of Eisenberg trembled and tensed, the muscles, sharply defined, stretched and pulled to their maximum as the Harbinger of Horror heaved her pain against the mat with heavy breadths, her fingers clenched into fists as she was, for once, the victim of prolonged punishment.
The man in black and white dropped down onto the canvas, moving as close as he could bring himself to dare to check on the suffering blonde’s willingness to surrender. He opened his mouth to ask the question but then froze, uncertain and unsettled by what he was seeing as he looked upon the women’s features, the pain evident as it washed over Erika in waves, and yet her lips, blood red and vibrant, were curled into a quivering, dangerously enthralled smile.
Sophie casts a glance at the official and wonders why he's not asking if her foe wants to give in. "Ask her," she demands. He shakes his head. "She doesn't submit," he assures. Mitchell yanks the leg further, but when it elicits nothing more than a momentary grunt, she tosses the limb aside. Rising to her feet, the lithe blonde offers a frustrated stomp into the spine of Eisenberg then an elbow drop. She plasters herself on the back of Erika, wrapping an arm around the head of the German before pushing up into an amazing headstand. Reaching vertical, Mitchell starts to wrap her other arm around Eisenberg's noggin, trying to apply a sleeper in a most unusual way.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=4QR7tWjUo60
An astonished cheer rippled its way around the arena as Sophie opted to up the ante, going for the spectacular and feeding the Gladiatrix photographers to the point of frenzy as several flashes surrounded the ring.
Erika acknowledged none of it, a sharp grunt accompanying the tightening of a powerful noose about her throat, a persistent, soft groaning soon following, the Perfect Predator ensnared and being starved of oxygen. She thrust one arm up into the air as her fingers grasped at nothing, the toes of her boots scraping the canvas as her noggin was jerked and throat constricted, her dangerously divine frame pinned against the canvas across her front and her eyelids fluttering. Spasms ran the length of her body as her as her tight buttocks juddered, the upraised limb of Erika dropping by inches, her wrist wilting and fingers listless.
With a sudden surge of effort, perhaps reminded of a similar fate at the hands of Sayuki, Eisenberg began dragging herself towards the ropes; blindly refusing to accept what the FAWNatics hoped was inevitable.
The effort to keep herself from tumbling is difficult enough, but when Erika makes her way toward the ropes it quickly becomes unmanageable. She drops to the canvas, but keeps her grip in place, working on knocking out her foe rather than worrying about style. But the fight in Eisenberg remains too strong and the tall blonde yanks Sophie to the ropes before her blood flow grows too low. Erika wraps a palm around the bottom rope and demands a break.
Mitchell releases instantly, pushing to her feet. She backs off a few steps to an ovation from the FAWNatics while Erika shakes out her noggin, trying to draw her senses back into place. With Erika rising, Sophie decides she can't wait any longer. She grabs a wrist and drags a wobbly Erika away from the strands then close into a crossbody grip, Sophie's arm across Eisneberg's chest and over her far shoulder, Sophie ready to launch Erika up and over a shoulder to SLAM her down with a Uranage.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=-6FOMJ2ElCs
While initially pulled in tight as a snug little passenger, a woozy appearing Erika waited for the ascendant Sophie to bend her knees in preparation for a pop before pulling out sideways to create a few inches. Tensing her bicep, Eisenberg hammered her elbow into the temple of Mitchell, galvanised by the grunt of pain from her opponent before slamming home a second and, as the grip about her slackened, a third!!
With Sophia’s arms dropping, Erika pinned those limbs to the side of the other, hardbody blonde, the Python Powerhouse preparing to squeeze tightly, the brief Bearhug only a precursor to a swift suplex.
@0:40
www.youtube.com/watch?v=lko3DbY5D9M
Sophie grunts deep and breathy as Erika tightens her squeeze of Mitchell's midriff, her arms also trapped within those of Eisenberg, preventing any chance of reprisal. As the German dips to gather a bit more momentum, Sophie tries to block with a grapevining leg, but the idea proves too little too late. The power packed Amazon shows her stuff, lifting Sophie like a lightweight, and sending her flipping over to a mat-thumping CRASH landing. Sophie arches in pain, reaching for the base of her spine, usually bright eyes disappearing between lids clenched in pain from the airborne trip to the canvas and its resultant impact.
Erika’s own return to vertical was not a swift one, the Dangerously Sublime Serpent slow to recover even as the instigator of the most recent carnage. As one blonde arched in pain, Eisenberg remained near immobile, her arms outstretched and palms facing upwards towards the heavens, eyes of coldest blue half lidded and breathing both slow and shallow. Just as it seemed as though Sophia might be the first to recover, the blonde enwrapped in snakeskin slipped a cruel smile across her lips as she slid from fatigued to recovered as though she were fuelled by misery, the statuesque European rolling to her front and advancing upon her hands and knees with predatory grace.
Just as a wincing Mitchell had returned to sitting, all the warnings in all of Orlando were not enough to make her realise that the horror was behind her and, as Erika pushed up to kneeling, her first sign of danger was when her head was YANKED backwards by a vicious handful of her blonde tresses, and Eisenberg prepared to rain down a blistering storm of thunderous forearms to her exposed bosom.
The pain of her fall to earth still reducing the concentration on her foe's whereabouts, Sophie doesn't notice the approach of Eisenberg despite the FAWNatics' efforts. The second generation superstar only seems to realize when Erika entwines her fingers in Mitchell's long golden locks.
The German draws the Carolina girl's head back, leaving Sophie's chest open upon which to rain down blows. Erika takes advantage, THUMPING down forearm shiver, one after the other until the crowd is drawn to count along for...
EIGHT!
NINE!!
TEN!!!
Only the ref's complaint over Eisenberg's handful of hair brings the barrage to an end. Erika releases the follicles and lands one more blow that flattens Sophie to the canvas, the blonde wincing in pain, her breasts battered and bruised and now draped by a protective arm. The other is used to roll Sophie to her side, moving her bosom out of the direct line of fire.
If her impressive cleavage was to the continued target of Erika’s cold simmering malice, Mitchell could consider herself well guarded, but Eisenberg was intent upon new desires that saw her move into a slow straddle across the other blondes hips. With viperous intent, even before she settled, Erika lashed out with both of her claws and wrapped her fingers about Sophia’s throat, tightening her grip about the soft flesh until the hardbody within her grasp began to gag and desperately kick out with her heels.
Even as the astonished Official could even bring himself to issue a fresh warning, the Princess of Pythons was already rising, retaining her cruel grip whilst pushing herself slowly up to standing, draaaaging Mitchell up vertical as painfully as possible, the choke hold, at least momentarily, proving to be enough to keep the struggling blonde within her grasp susceptible to her wishes. This, however, was only the beginning, Erika HEEEEEEAVING with a ravenous cry as her incredible frame pulsed with effort, Eisenberg silencing the FAWNatics as she moved to Gorilla Press the second Hardbody clear above her head...
@start
www.youtube.com/watch?v=zmfAIa811VM
The crowd looks on in amazement as Sophie, a sizable grappler in her own right, is flung over and across Eisenberg's shoulders into a fireman's carry. The red-faced and gasping Mitchell seems to realize the peril of her predicament from the look on her face, but is unable to mount an elbow barrage to counter out. Instead, Erika gathers her resources and presses the wide-eyed blonde far over her head, gorilla-style with a hint of Python Power. The crowd is silenced in awe as Erika walks in a circle to show off her prize to all sides of the house. Sophie shakes her head in anxiety, knowing she has nowhere to go but down and down is where she goes when Erika decides she's had enough. Releasing, gravity takes its hold on Mitchell and she falls, but not directly to the mat.
The malicious German genuflects below the plummeting Sophie and GUTS her foe, the bony joint impaling Mitchell's tummy. Sophie rolls off the knee and flops to the mat on her back, hugging her roiling belly.
Erika, bosom rising, slow and methodical, lingers upon the moment as her eyes, pale blue and piercing, turned her cool gaze upon the gagging Mitchell with cruel, hungry intent. Silently she observed the suffering blonde left demolished at her feet, the palm of Eisenberg’s hand massaging her own, raw throat, cold even to her own touch and yet blistered red by her equally powerful rivals suffocating grip.
For now she made no comment, not as she struck with unexpected swiftness, a cruel punt catching Sophie in the side and forcing her to roll over, the Princess of Pythons suddenly swooping down and, with one claw ready, snatched and dug her fingers deep into the scruff of her opponent’s neck.
As her digits sunk deep into all too yielding flesh, the instinctive reaction of the Official was to protest an illegal choke hold, only to realise that Eisenberg was doing no such thing, regardless of the violence of her strike, and the words died as a stutter upon his lips.
Instead, with a snarl emerging from her blood red own, Erika used her vindictive grip to yank Sophie back up to vertical by way of several sharp jerks and severe shakes, Eisenberg as cruel as any feline with her prey as she prepared to worry Mitchells glorious frame into a crippling Abdominal Stretch.
Shifting her long sinewy left leg around the front of the groaning Mitchell, Erika forces Sophie's torso down across the limb. With her fellow blonde bent in front of her, Eisenberg straps her powerful frame perpendicular across the back of the second-generation superstar. With both arms free, Erika captures Sophie's far arm with her left and wraps her right around Mitchell's neck, wrenching her foe across bended knee. With Erika's catch wrapped in her coils, she sends pulse after pulse of power into Sophie, shredding at her midriff, Sophie mewling in pain with every nasty tug. Sophie tries to power out with a hip toss, but Erika's size and strength won't allow it. The official asks Mitchell if she wants to give in, but a shake of the blonde's head makes it known she won't surrender, yet.
Erika did not appear to be overly disappointed, if anything the pitiless smile that slowly quirked the corners of her lips seemed only to tick open wider, the blonde that was in the ascendency leaning forwards to whisper sweet nothings for Sophie and Sophie alone. “You, you are the failure of you family,” she cooed with disturbing malice, “finishing you will be a mercy.”
With nothing but a moan to answer, Eisenberg released her hold, but even as she uncoiled and Mitchell’s body was flooded with relief, the Harbinger of Horror was transitioning to her next torment. Spinning Sophie around, Erika ducked low for just a moment, slipped and arm between a pair of impossibly long legs, releasing a grunt of her own as she returned the suffering Mitchell back to a perch across her shoulders, only this time she intended to begin wrenching the other young women in half with the most vicious Argentine Backbreaker known to man...
@3:00
www.youtube.com/watch?v=hAF6mcatMvA
Sophie wriggles within Erika's fireman's carry, trying to slip down Eisenberg's back and take to her offensive array, but the German's grip is cinched tight. And when Erika pulls her arms forward, she starts to bend the spine of Mitchell in ways it was never meant to bow. But the finishing touch is placed when Erika sits out and the jarring end to the ride looks to snap the backbone of the Carolina grappler. The force of the impact sends Sophie spinning to her back, Cynthia's sister spreading out in a anguished spread eagle at Erika's back, the battle with the power packed Python taking a terrible toll on Mitchell. Erika gazes over her shoulder imperiously and doesn't bother with a pinning attempt on the waylaid Sophie.
It appeared as though she had some far tastier temptation in mind as the tip of her tongue trailed slowly across her upper lip, her unsettling smile threatening to return with each, silent inhale. Eisenberg slowly brought herself about, silkily bearing down on Mitchell as she prowled forwards upon her palms, stopping only to reach out and tug her opponent gently up to sitting. Slipping her own firm, snake skin wrapped buttocks forwards, Erika sat possessively upon Sophie’s compliant lap, Eisenberg slipping her impossibly long, impossibly dangerously stems out into her V before SNAPPING them shut, Erika leaning her bosom forwards into her rival blondes and prepared to PULSE her thighs for an agonising bodyscissor.
Mitchell's pliant body is pulled to a seat rather easily, Erika starting to impose her will on the FAWN original. Erika takes her place in her foe's lap and only when Eisenberg snuggles close does Sophie seem to realize the Python's proximity. The legs of the German snap tight around either set of ribs, CRUSHING them and halting Sophie from sucking in a deep breath. Above, Erika piles on with a bearhug, her arms wrapping around the shoulder blades of her rival. Her fellow blonde attaching to her like the deadly boa, Sophie wriggles and shakes, but can barely move Erika. Her arms flail wildly and finally can only choose to send some weak fists into Erika's back the German shakes off. Sophie's struggles grow more uncoordinated as she starts to shut down under the constricting power of the Python's limbs.
“Shhhhhhhhhhh,” Eisenberg cooed with a calm, sweet tenderness that caused the skin to prickle and the wilting Mitchell to groan, the Teutonic Terror sat gloriously upon her increasingly submissive throne grinding two pairs of hips together in slow, hypnotic circles. The FAWNatics were enthralled into horrified silence, the lights themselves surely dimming as one valiant blonde gradually succumbed to the tightening embrace of another, Erika tucking her head forwards to nuzzle her lips into the small of her rivals throat, plucking at the women’s skin as it shivered and soon, inevitably, Eisenberg began suckling upon her tender treat, claiming her pound of flesh.
An increasingly worried Official moved in to begin checking the barely responsive Mitchell, only to be thwarted in his efforts to end the match and bring her suffering to a close as Erika, inexplicably, voluntarily released her own, match winning embrace. Without a word of explanation, Eisenberg uncurled and, whilst keeping a limp limbed Mitchell sitting with a fierce handful of hair, unfurled her way back up to standing. With her free hand the dominant blonde gripped Sophie’s cheeks together with a sharp pinch, shaking her rivals head to rouse her as she leaned forwards, her lips becoming a threatening snarl as the FAWNatics realised what she was doing.
She wanted to entice from Sophie a surrender, not to end pain she was in... but to evade any further.
“Plead with me for mercy,” Erika insisted, scrunching those cheeks a little harder, “and I’ll let you go. Plead with me for mercy, or you will be broken.”
Sophie shakes her head both to try and settle some of her blurred senses back into place and as a rather unconvincing 'no'. She also draws in lung-filling gulps of air, the combination of scissors and hug leaving her in a severe deficit. The battle-tested blonde tries to offer a loud firm verbal 'NO', but it comes out as a squeaky, uncertain 'nuh' followed by a breathless 'uh'.
Sophie's hands move to Erika's wrist and try to push the German's grip from her flaxen locks. "Cynthia may be a quitter, but I'm not," Sophie affirms with a slightly stronger voice, the increased oxygen giving her will a boost. "And you are going to look silly when you're looking up at muhhh..." Sophie didn't get a chance to finish as Erika swings her head wildly from side to side, rattling Mitchell's braincase and ending her response emphatically.
With Mitchell suitably silenced, Erika kept the other powerful blondes head still long enough to lean forwards and bring their lips tightly together, breathing deeply as if she seemed intent of steeling Sophie’s last breath in one last act of domination. Of course, as she released the lip lock with a loud pluck, this was far from being truthful as the Perfect Predator stepped backwards, dragging her dazed and rubber limbed rival with her towards a semblance of vertical.
She did not need to remain that way for long, Eisenberg tucking her forwards and applying a standing headscissors, biceps already flexing as she slipped her arms beneath her opponents trim, gulping tummy, the FAWNatics panicking as one was they recognised what was to come...
Last Breadth@1:15
www.youtube.com/watch?v=bevdRipdhY8
The Teutonic Tower heaves and flips Sophie up her body, catching the limp and lethargic blonde on her shoulders. Instead of balling her fists and letting loose with a torrents of blows, the battered Mitchell's arms lay limp at her sides, head drooping. The FAWNatics show more energy than what's left in the spent tank of Sophie. And at Erika's choosing the German drops. But not with any powerbomb. Instead she ends on the canvas with her knees pointed upward and skewers the spine of Sophie. The impact is violent and draws more than a few 'ooohs' from the sell out crowd. The pain in her vertebrae seems to waken Sophie to a degree, the tall blonde nearly torn in two, her twisted features echoing the anguish, but it does nothing to her help her broken body and she ends on her side curled in a foetal ball, frozen in place, whimpering.
Whilst a pinfall would surely be upon the mind of any other competitor, Erika opts for her own, personal brand of assuring victory, saddling up behind her rival and, nestled up along a near broken back, set about applying a fresh sleeper, long stems soon following to reapply a rear bodyscissor, Eisenberg finally content to take her opponent under, hips jerking sharply against the firm buttocks of her foe.
As Sophie's arms snake around Mitchell's noggin, cinching tight around her throat and a temple, Erika cuts off the bloodflow to her foes brain, another scissors quickly working on reducing the air while panicking the embattled Sophie with pressure and pain. The combination quickly leaves Soph a desperate and outmatched grappler, her arms swaying like reeds in the wind before flopping to the deck, limp. Spit bubbles dribble from between her lips as her green eyes cross, Erika's cool smile in contrast to the dazed vacancy in Mitchell's features.
Worried when Sophie spasms to a stop, the official steps in and raises a wrist. It drops like lead to the deck and no one in the house is surprised when he does so two further times in succession, the only movement Sophie's pink tongue poking out from pursed lips. The man calls for the bell and the PA quickly trumpets behind.
"Your winner...by knockout...Erika Eisenberg."
The FAWNatics can’t quite bring themselves to find the courage necessary to begin booing the result, no-one willing to break the foreboding silence and bring attention to themselves as Eisenberg constricted their favourite into unconscious submission.
Erika did not acknowledge them, nor the result immediately, not as she inhaled deeply and retained her fearsome grip, breathing in the scent of her powerful rivals hair and savouring the scent of her defeat. As the houselights began to fade, Mitchell still securely within Eisneberg’s possession as the two figures gradually disappeared from sight, the Spectators could only be left to wonder as to who would be next to be fed to Eisenberg...