Post by alyadmirer on Aug 21, 2015 1:04:01 GMT
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 arriving competitor not a mystery and yet, from reputation and history, a palpable sense of unease gathered amongst those watching.
”DEVIL”:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=XxlaJQGve7s
Erika Eisenberg emerged amongst the stark and piercing beat of that opening rhythm, the melody as unsettling as it was threatening, the curvaceous carnivore striding with purpose, with desire, her pace unceasing and her gaze entrancing, ice blue and calculating, alluring... perilous...
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 Titan the FAWNatics feared her to be. Slowly, with cold, methodical, malicious intent, she circled the ring, refusing to acknowledge the shades that were the bystanders, moving like a predator pinning down her prey, that stare, that piercing, ravenous stare soaking in the ground upon which she would feed upon her volunteering challenger.
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.
The Announcer, keeping his distance and finding his voice, cut through the pervading silence and made the coming contest official.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, the following contest will be an Open Challenge!! Introducing first, hailing from Berlin, Germany, standing in at 5’9” and 140lbs, the Perfect Predator, ERIKA! EISENBERG!”
That smallest of mirthless smiles remained upon her features as the houselights returned with agonizing slowness, finding her corner as though she owned it, her eyes unfaltering from their gaze of the curtains which had yet to flutter open. Perhaps mockingly, perhaps sincerely, she licked her lips, a long trailing of her tongue, as the viper could hardly wait to sink her teeth in...
The FAWNatics followed her gaze, well aware of the torment and terror that Erika had sown in recent memory, unstoppable as she tore a ragged hole through their beloved favorites. Not in over a year had anyone pinned her, and still the challenge remained open, her appetite for suffering refusing to be slaked. Even those who formed the crème of FAWN’s pedigree, the former Tag and IC Champion, Juliet Bloodwind, could not prevent the ongoing carnage, another pedestal for the ever more elaborate throne of ‘corpses’.
The silence lingered, the shadows lengthened, the torch that needed tendering going unheeded...
It almost became unbearable...
Finally, the silence was broken--and once Shinedown’s “Heroes” hit, the FAWNatics ERUPT into THUNDEROUS cheers.
”HEROES”:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qi8q_t3le60
“And her opponent,” the announcer resumed, his voice almost drowned out by the roar of the crowd, “hailing from Denver, Colorado… She stands five feet eight inches tall weighs in tonight at one hundred and thirty-five. She is a former WOLF World champion, FAWN World champion and FAWN Tag Team champion. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Camouflage Crusher… the BFG… BEEECCCKKKYYY CLLLAAAYYYTTTOOONNN!!!!!"
BECKY CLAYTON:
Becky Clayton burst through the curtains and into view, the imposing robobabe greeting her fans with a jaunty two-fisted pose. This resulted in a cacophonous cheer, not just for the woman in question, but for her togs, which were among the best on the roster. For those of you who’ve been living under a rock for the last year or so, prepare yourself. Becky was decked out in a camouflage two-piece with tie-sided bottoms and an impossible to ignore ladder / double helix of lycra that ran from the top of her waistband all the way up to the southern border of her cups. She finished it off with matching forest green pads and boots and a few wraps of camouflage wrist tape.
Having rallied proper support from her troops, Clayton started down to the squared circle. Though she was extremely eager to get tonight’s battle started, the Army of One Hot Chick still took the time to slap hands on both sides of the aisle, as something told her every ounce of support she could rally might come in handy tonight. Breaking into a jog once she has traversed the aisle, Clayton bounded up the steel steps and leaped over the top rope in one effortless burst of kinetic energy. Coming to a stop in the center of the ring, Becky wheeled to the hard camera and snaps off a crisp salute, then began to eager pace back and forth as the referee moved to inspect the blonde across from her.
All the while, the FAWNatics refuse to grow silent. True, Erika Eisenberg had torn through every woman brave enough to answer her summons so far--but the Army of One Hot Chick was something different, something MORE than the German had yet to meet. If anyone could thwart Eisenberg, it was Becky Clayton...
Erika remained languid, uncoiled within her corner with arms stretched outwards, the tips of her fingers slowly, methodically, rhythmically, drumming a persistent beat atop the strands of the top ropes. She listened not to the bleating masses, her gaze unfaltering, eyes of feral blue boring into Clayton as she gazed upon her greatest prey to date.
No stranger to the military, Eisenberg had herself policed her own Nations, and it had been some time since she had found cause to tie down a trained killer...
She trailed the tip of her tongue slowly, teasing her own lips, before she smiled with barely suggested mirth, finally pushing free from her corner and approaching her contender. The tone of Erika was kept low, her words meant only for the multi time, former Champion, the venom of her barb personal. “Your native friend,” she purred with venom, “she was tender...”
As psychological ploys went, it was pretty transparent. That didn’t make it any easier not to rise to the bait, but the Army of One Hot Chick did her best to keep her temper in check. “Yeah?” Becky asked with a raised eyebrow. “Well, I got news for you, Erika--I’m not. In fact, I’m pretty sure you’re gonna choke on me tonight.”
Clayton didn’t wait for an answer, but she didn’t exactly charge in headlong, either. Instead, the veteran brought her right hand up, fingers flexing, offering up an unspoken invitation for Eisenberg to enter into a Test of Strength...
The reply from the blonde was not immediate, at least not verbally as she tilted her head ever so slightly sideways, the tips of her blood red lips twitching with amusement. As she brought her own hands skywards, the Official knew there was to be no delaying the inevitable and immediately rang for the bell, the clang accompanying the slapping together of strong palms and the thrusting of flexed biceps.
“I was expecting the sibling,” Eisenberg cooed between grunts of fresh exertion, “has she merely grown accustomed to failure?”
“Not my place to speak for Nyssa,” the Army Brat hissed, raising her left hand heavenward. “But my guess is, she’s got bigger fish to fry.” Clayton’s digits wave, repeating the very same invitation, Becky’s eyes narrowing as she waited for Erika to accept. “What’re you waiting for?” Clayton asked, her lips curling ever so slightly into a smirk. “Afraid of how quickly these ‘guns’ are gonna put you on your knees?”
“Amusing,” Erika’s hesitation was nonexistent as she raised her other palm to smack together with Clayton’s, the blonde eyeing the brunette as they pressed against one another with force. “Yet inaccurate,” she hissed with immediate effort through clenched teeth, two of the most prominent Destroyers in wrestling refusing to give an inch, accompanied by the insistent applause of the watching FAWNatics. Biceps shivered as they searched for even the barest hint of leverage, and the Official ensured that he did not stray too close.
“You will be slung across my shoulders before this night is done...”
“That’ll be a neat trick,” the Army Grunt grunted, perfect pearlies pressed tight as she strived to assert her will over Eisenberg. “Not sure how you’re gonna get anyone over your shoulder when they’re carting you out of here...” With that said, both women fell silent--save for the occasional hiss, the odd gasp and the infrequent groan as Becky and Erika diverted every bit of energy available to them into winning this initial skirmish in tonight’s war. Two sets of arms quivered, two pairs of legs quaked and buckled before regaining their resolve, and already, two women found themselves beginning to glisten under the arena lights...
... but this stalemate couldn’t last forever. Gradually, one woman began to sink toward her knees, the other’s expression brightening at this sign of weakness--and spurring her to bear down harder...
The applause of the FAWNatics faltered immediately as their worst fears came to pass, ‘the’ Becky Clayton the first to buckle as she dropped down heavily onto one knee. So shocked were they by the grudging capitulation, they scarcely had time to adjust to the new reality before Eisenberg compounded their sudden horror. Neither, it seemed, did the Army of One Hot Chick as the viciously smirking Erika capitalized on her advantage with an unexpected turn of leverage.
Instead of bearing down all the harder, painfully grinding her proud Challenger ever deeper into the canvas, Eisenberg instead stepped backwards, the insistent stride accompanied by a fierce pull on the brunettes arms that YANKED the unbalanced Clayton right back up to standing. Temporarily at least, Erika ducking low and jabbing a joint into the rock hard tummy of her fresh rival, a triumphant growl turned grunt accompanying the Herculean feat of muscling the crowd heroine up across her shoulders for a Fireman’s Carry. Her threat fulfilled almost immediately, the blonde prepared to throw herself backwards for a brutal Samoan Drop!
Just as terror TRULY began to grip the collective heart of tonight’s capacity crowd, hope returned--in the form of a barrage of forearms, slung rapidly into Erika’s temple by Becky Clayton. It took a near half dozen before Eisenberg’s bonds were broken, allowing the multiple time former champion the opportunity to slip off her foe’s shoulders, landing behind the statuesque blonde. Erika would not be denied so readily, however. The FAWNatics had scarcely been able to start cheering Becky’s resurgence when the German turned, her right fist balled and swinging for Clayton’s temple...
.... but the Army of One Hot Chick proved quick as well as powerful, first ducking the blow, then straightening back to her full height with Erika’s arm still kept behind Becky’s noggin. Reaching across the Sadistic Serpent’s chest, Clayton’s other arm wrapped around Eisenberg’s back, the Army Brat hoping to execute a standing uranage.
STANDING URANAGE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=5sUQgAISWOA
With an almighty heave, the statuesque physique of Eisenberg was uprooted; the Amazon lifted off her feet and upended, whipped up and over in a short yet impressive arc that brought the blonde down hard across her shoulders with a fierce THUMP! Erika grunted with a hiss as she ricocheted off the canvas and rolled with the impact, a growl caught in her throat as she tumbled over onto her knees, the FAWNatics nurturing the embers of hope as they witnessed Clayton taking the Perfect Predator to the canvas far more swiftly than anyone else had done this last year.
For most women, getting Erika on the mat this quickly might have led them to go for an equally swift cover. But Becky Clayton was NOT most women. Seeing Eisenberg already up on her knees, the Army of One Hot Chick rolled to hers as well, quickly crawling toward her opponent from behind. The, fashioning two sets of fingers into claws, Clayton sent her hands flying down toward the German’s shoulders, two sets of talons ready to plunge into soft skin and tender muscles with her E-Tool (shoulder claws).
Erika HISSED!! a she was tenderized, audible to those in the front rows and visible to those in the back, the Sublime Serpent exposing her teeth and snarling as her head snapped into a sharp arch. With her shoulders stiffening into a rigid curl, Eisenberg’s hiss lingered with the hint of vengeance, filling the air as her fingers twitched into closed and impotent fists. The blonde jerked and shivered with infrequent spasms as Clayton worked her hold deeper, grinding her rival’s muscles and gradually draining them of potency, the FAWNatics applauding to spur Becky on.
As Erika remained stationary and paralyzed upon one knee, her lips began to curl, the hard camera zooming in to capture history as the Army Brat ground down the Beast... only to catch that Eisenberg was smiling. The slightest quirk that betrayed the blonde’s amusement, pleasure mixed with pain in disturbing quantities.
“H...how...qu...quaint...” she purred through her clenched teeth, rolling her shoulders deeper into Clayton’s piercing grip...
A lesser woman might have been unnerved by Erika’s utterance... but kindly refer back to early about Becky Clayton. The Army Brat matched Eisenberg’s clenched teeth by gritting her own, her talons digging ever deeper into the Sadistic Serpent’s shoulders. But as much as the German’s words might have been bravado, Becky understood how unlikely it was the E-Tool would earn a submission, so she roughly pulled away her claws... and then cocked her right elbow, dropping it atop the crown of Erika’s skull.
A stunned blonde stunner groan, toppling over to her side--just as the Army Brat had hoped. Rising, Clayton circled to Erika’s feet, stooping down to grab both her opponent’s ankles. Lifting those ludicrously long and luscious stems off the mat, Becky began to roll Eisenberg to her chest, intending to step over and sink into a crouch, locking in a Boston Crab.
The nearest camera picked up a worrying creak as Clayton dropped into a deep seat, Eisenberg’s incredible physique contorted into a curve that it was never meant to, her spine curling into an ever more gradually pronounced ‘C’. The Harbinger of Horror grooooooooaned as she was muscled into the mercies of her adversary, the domineering blonde suffering at the hands of the defiant brunette as her vertebra popped and protested in the same manner she had made so many others do likewise.
Still, she would not relent, lips pressed together tightly as she dug her nails into the canvas, elbows pushing up on the plywood as she embraced the pain that shivered with white hot pulses throughout her body. The German draaaaaaaaaged herself across the canvas, unrelenting and determined, eyes of coldest blue piercing as she reached out for the ropes, fingers seizing the bottom coil and...
She did not call out a protest, Eisenberg not offering a single, further utterance. Whilst others would demand a break to end their torment, Erika retained her shivering silence, no amount of satisfaction offered as a platitude to the heroic Clayton.
By the count of “TWO!”, the Army of One Hot Chick had dropped Erika’s legs and risen to her full height, Becky stepping away to comply with the official’s call for a clean break. That left Eisenberg free to start dragging herself back to her feet with the aid of the ropes, Clayton laying back as the Perfect Predator rose. With her opponent on the ropes, Becky remained at center ring, her body tensed--but she beckoned Erika to join her with a wave of her fingers. “Whenever you’re ready to go again...” Clayton said, her lips pursed in the tiniest of smiles.
Eisenberg did not see fit to answer, eyes of crystal blue unwavering as she pulled her hand slowly across blood tinted lip, savoring her own scent as she uncurled and was represented at her full height. She advanced, her own fingers twitching, her pace unhurried as she bore down on the American, raising her own fingers slowly before, much to the silent delight of the witnessing FAWNatics, she SLAPPED!! her palms firmly against Becky’s. The Curvaceous Carnivore then struck, lashing out like the predators she had skinned for her attire, the blonde darting her head forwards as a weapon to CRACK!! her forehead into the all too tempting, all too angelic features of her paragon Rival!
Erika’s assault was not only as swift as the creatures that had sacrificed themselves for attire, but it was every bit as effective as well, the Army Brat uttering a pained groan as the headbutt rattled her senses. The FAWNatics responded much more loudly, and overwhelmingly in the negative, jeering Eisenberg for not having the courage to go toe to toe with Clayton. Becky sunk to one knee, her eyes blinking rapidly, the brunette trying to shake off the ringing echoes of Eisenberg’s headbutt.
“Americans”, Eisenberg cooed with an undercurrent of venom, boring down all the harder on the duo’s test of strength, and driving the multi time, former Champion even deeper towards the mat. “Always proud without reason. I drove you to your knees already; I have no need to prove again.”
Suddenly she released the duel handholds and flung her rivals quivering arms away, Eisenberg dropping down to one knee herself before her adversary turned shell-shocked prey, Becky’s dazed gaze more pliant now than it was oh so defiant. Bosom to bosom, the Perfect Predator quirked her lips with hunger as whipped her arms back around, SLAMMING her palms together to either side of Clayton’s temples, Eisenberg flexing her biceps to begin SQUEEZING the gorgeous braincase of the One Hawt Army Chick in a sadistic Vice!
It’s funny how sometimes, the simplest of holds can be the most excruciating, as well as the most effective. Of course, at the moment, much of that humor was lost on Becky Clayton. It only took a few seconds before Erika’s crushing grip forced the brunette’s jaw to slacken, and just a couple of seconds after that for the Army Brat’s tongue to start to slip past her lips. To her credit, Becky’s fist balled up, the former GI straining to lift her right arm and swing a punch toward Eisenberg’s flank--even as the vice forced Becky’s eyes to cross...
Even as Clayton’s right fist balled and quivered to rise, Eisenberg curled her lips to smile cruelly, flexing her biceps a little harder to elicit a groan and judder from the slackening heroine, opting to rob the brunette of her opportunity to retaliate and released her hold. As the suddenly relieved Becky threatened to buckle forwards, Erika circled around the back of her, slipping her arms beneath the camouflaged cutie’s and sweeping upwards, moving to link her fingers together behind the back of her rival’s neck to lock in a vindictive Full Nelson!
Erika’s digits laced together, creating a tight seal as the Sadistic Serpent locked in her nelson. Almost immediately, the Army Brat groaned, her powerful arms bearing down against Erika’s in an attempt to break the lock. But while the German’s leg strength is a well-known fact, she is hardly lacking in upper body strength as well, Eisenberg managing to keep her hands together--albeit with some difficulty. “Not this time,” Erika hissed... then began to push up from her knees.
The blonde got her feet underneath her, and with Clayton still kneeling, that only served to INCREASE the pressure on the nelson. Suddenly, Becky’s strangled, anguished groans grew a little louder and more pronounced--especially when the Perfect Predator shifted her stance, her feet sliding further apart as she leaned forward, Erika making expert use of her leverage to torture the helpless Army of One Hot Chick. Still, when the referee asked, Clayton managed to spit out an agonized, “NUUOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!”
Eisenberg rocked ever so slowly from side to side, finding new inches of torque with each new rotation, twisting and rolling with the smallest of sharp, severe adjustments that elicited fresh moans, Erika smiling as she savored each note that she desired. “Your friend, the native,” she cooed, her tongue venomous as she leaned closer, whispering for Clayton, “she groaned for Pandora after I offered to share her...”
The mere mention of Becky’s nemesis would be enough to inflame righteous fury, and Eisenberg relished the prospect of crushing it! Barely allowing the scantiest of moments for the revelation to sink in, Eisenberg HEAVED!! and, with Full Nelson retained, YANKED!! the folded destroyer right up to vertical, only to HEAVE!! again with a possessive shout to rip the brunette right off her feet as well. The Blond pivoted, spinning in an attempt to SNAP!! her foes spine with a ruthless, Half Nelson Backbreaker!
HALF NELSON BACKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=m6YcE4akKXY
It was a special class of competitor that could entertain dreams of making Becky Clayton look like a Shea London-style lightweight, but Erika’s credentials were impeccable. Muscling the Army of One Hot Chick off her feet, the Curvaceous Carnivore dropped down to one knee almost as quickly, viciously slinging her writhing cargo downward.
“GYYYYYYYAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!” Clayton howled, as soon as her back CRASHED into Erika’s outstretched thigh, the American brunette rocketed from the impact back into the air before she tumbled to the canvas. Becky spilled over to her stomach, left sprawled in a moaning heap, her left leg bent at the knee and a boot pointed toward the rafters while her right foot gingerly kicked at the mat, her left hand moving to massage the ache out of her lower spine.
Utterly unable to resist such a tantalizing target, Erika’s eyes widened as she inhaled sharply, her full bosom hiking as a cry of panic erupted from the spectators. Eisenberg whipped her statuesque physique about with lethal swiftness, leaping upon Clayton as though she were some tender morsel and, with a ravenous exhale, immediately began coiling about her momentarily crippled prey. Seizing the brunettes powerful shoulders, the blonde rolled Becky over, the pinnacle of FAWN’s Paragons forced to face upwards as their torso’s were shoved together, Eisenberg opening her hips and, much to the horror of those watching, wrapped her lusciously long legs about her rivals toned midriff and CLAMPED her thunderous thighs tight for a SICKENINGLY intense squeeze!
“You and I,” Erika breathed heavily, tasting euphoria with the experience, her lips almost brushing Clayton’s as she were mere moments from locking the hold in completely, “we can compete forever.”
The first pulse of Erika’s steel thighs brought a long, low past Becky’s lips--and it took the Army of One Hot Chick a moment to regain enough oxygen to answer her opponent. “Yeah,” Clayton gasped, “and a good thing, too. Cause if you think you’re gonna get a submission out of me, ‘forever’ is gonna be about as long as you’re waiting...”
Eisenberg’s gams started to go to work again, and again, Clayton cried out... but she didn’t remain motionless. The brunette’s arms shot upward, slipping by Erika’s shoulders, her fingers plunging into the German’s flaxen mane. Suddenly, the Army Brat PUSHED down against the back of the Sadistic Serpent’s skull, trying to guide Erika’s features toward her cleavage. Jugging women out might not be Becky’s stock and trade, but desperate times called for desperate measures--and the longer Clayton found herself trapped between Erika’s thighs, the more desperate she was likely to become.
The European had no time to inhale as her features were driven deep into the American’s firm bosom, her growl quickly becoming muffled as Becky folded her arms about the blonde’s cranium to keep it buried. Eisenberg protested by squeezing her thighs all the TIGHTER!!, fighting fire with fire as she increased the intensity, grinding the midriff of her hardbody rival with enough sheer force to render Clayton’s own gloriously long stems numb and near paralyzed.
And yet, for all the pained grunts and groans that were squeezed out of the Army Brat, Eisenberg’s airways remained buried, and with each passing moment it appeared as though the FAWNatics were witnessing the impossible, the thighs of the Sublime Serpent beginning to slacken and open...
Feeling her breath coming easier to her (while Erika was no doubt experiencing the exact opposite phenomenon), Becky continued to push against her opponent’s noggin, keeping the impromptu front sleeper as tight as she could... until Clayton felt the pressure on her midsection ease enough to allow her to move. At that point, the Army of One Hot Chick began to slither out from underneath the Sadistic Serpent, sending Eisenberg flopping to her back with a shove, the all-too-often dominant blonde’s eyes glazed over in a manner few could remember seeing.
For her part, Clayton’s chest heaved with each deep breath she drew in, her lungs practically burning after their ordeal in Erika’s scissors. But rest would have to wait until after victory was secured. Climbing to her feet, Becky stooped and scooped the German up to hers as well. She then dipped a little lower, threading an arm through Eisenberg’s thighs as she powered her opponent onto her shoulders and into a fireman’s carry. Becky then reached to cross Erika’s ankles, her Howling Commandos ready to erupt if Clayton could deliver her signature Army of One...
ARMY OF ONE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nz9GPZjiL3A
With ice blue eyes vacant, the jug shocked Erika was muscled across her most powerful rivals shoulders with an impressive display from Clayton, the brunette stubbornly reversing her fortunes and securely shouldering the Amazonian physique of the blonde tormentor in a dominant display. For a moment at least, with air slowly returning to her oxygen staved torso, Eisenberg almost appeared to be submissive, one arm swinging idly as Becky crossed her foes ankles to fully secure the hold.
The Howling Commandos were indeed ready, and they could not have shouted louder as the momentum fully shifted, the Army of One Hot Chick ready to make a emphatic statement, to be the one who finally overcame the Harbinger of Horror as she spun the incredible blonde about, both plummeting to the canvas and Eisenberg finding herself PLANTED!! into the center of the mat across her buckling shoulders! Almost nailed right through the canvas by one of the very few who could do so to her, Erika recoiled with a chest wracking groan and would have bucked away had an alert brunette not collected the lusciously long legs of her foe and folded the tall blonde up into stunningly small ball.
ONE!
TWO!!
Eisenberg all but EXPLODED!! free from the near fall, rejuvenated perhaps by the intensity of the moment, breathing deeply as she rolled to her side and blinked with returning awareness.
For her part, the Army of One Hot Chick was CLEARLY very much feeling more and more like her old self, the American brunette pounding her right fist to her chest as she got back to her feet--a gesture which kept the FAWNatics on theirs, roaring along with their champion as Clayton marched to her adversary. Yanking Eisenberg to verticality with a handful of hair, Becky’s hand then shifted from Erika’s locks to her windpipe... as Becky’s other hand went directly between the Perfect Predator’s perfect thighs. Eisenberg had made her look like a lightweight earlier, and now it was Becky’s opportunity to return the favor as she attempted to send Erika over her head with a military press... and if she could do that, then DRIVE the German blonde to the canvas with her Black Ops powerslam.
BLACK OPS @3:03:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=R8XIPPCWNxk
And the Howling Commandos erupted once more as Clayton one upped her own power display, summoning all of her considerable might and dispelling all disbelief with a single, Herculean effort worthy of immortality, the Gladiatrix photographers agreeing as they were there to capture it. With a triumphant grunt of effort and accompanied by thunderous applause, Becky bench pressed THE Curvaceous Carnivore high above her head, arms extended to their maximum as many of those in the locker room also began cheering, a display that would finally but the daemon that was Eisenberg to bed.
This, however, was just the precursor, Becky dropping her arms and releasing her cargo, gravity grabbing Erika high above her head and dragging her earthwards. Clayton was ready to catch her, braced and prepped to run through the devastating movements that would SLAM the remaining life clean out of the vindictive blonde...
Only the moment the rock hard midriff of the German came within reach, Erika spoiled glorious destiny, shoving her way free from her unwanted perch before a fresh grip could be secured and landed with vile intent behind her most powerful rival. Eisenberg didn’t hesitate, the Perfect Predator striking, maximizing on the brunettes blindside and, with her adversary unbalanced, wrapped a palm across the throat of the American and took her turn to SMACK! a fierce claw between the other hardbody’s thighs. Ducking then lifting, Erika grunted as she moved to muscle the Army of One Hot Chick across her strong shoulders for a merciless Argentine Backbreaker!!
Few women had ever displayed the wherewithal to finagle their way out of the Black Ops once Becky Clayton had gotten them airborne. That level of surprise, coupled with Erika’s new positioning in the Army Brat’s blindspot, proved to be an inescapable duo. To the crowd’s displeasure, the brunette was soon strapped with her back against Eisenberg’s powerful shoulders... and the game of oneupswomanship continued, the Curvaceous Carnivore engaging in an impressive display of her strength by performing not one but two squats while holding the Army of One Hot Chick...
... but as she rose the second time, Erika left her feet, dropping to her knees and sending a MASSIVE, spine-shattering jolt through Becky’s back when her knees hit the canvas. With a loud moan, Becky spilled off Eisenberg’s shoulders and rolled away, once again coming to a halt on her stomach, both arms wrapped above her head as her feet drummed at the mat.
With her pulse quickening, Erika was glistening, gloriously sheeted in a thin layer of perspiration, the blonde of sinisterly seductive stature striding with a languid circling of her hips, methodically prowling the canvas with arms outstretched and head leaned back, her foe broken and groaning at her feet. Her lips twitching, slick with red and inviting, smiling and grimacing and smiling again, some manner of broken psychology drawing pleasure from both their mounting torments.
“I warned you Clayton,” she almost sighed with open relish, ending her indulgence as she turned back to Becky, leaning forwards to grasp the brunette by her full mane, one Lioness forcibly yanking the other up onto her knees to assert control. There was to be no further hesitation, the Perfect Predator on key, whipping her arms about to secure her dreaded sleeper, “I will snap you before we’re done!”
Suddenly, alarmingly, Becky’s skull was throbbing--Erika’s snaking limbs instantly reducing the flow of blood to the Army Brat’s brain to a mere trickle. Immediately, Becky’s arms began to spasm and jerk, her fists balled--but with Eisenberg behind her, those punches--more involuntary than directed--came up empty. Eventually, Clayton managed to regain enough muscle control to fire a couple of elbows back into Erika’s ribs...
... but the Sadistic Serpent closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, weathering the storm.
While most of the Howling Commandos shouted support to their general, a number of fans grew silent. On her knees, the brunette’s options were extremely curtailed. As if sensing their thoughts, Becky began straining to push up to one knee--and if she could get there, maaaybe she could get back to her feet. But with one hundred and forty pounds of Perfect Predator bearing down on her, that was easier said than done.
As the hard camera zoomed in, zeroing in on what the world could feel was a pivotal moment, the photographers at ringside appearing all the more like hyaenas as they circled, the audience at home and all those watching could perhaps see every single one of Eisenberg’s clenched teeth. She was not grimacing, she was grinning, relishing every single moment of Becky’s fight back, her refusal to surrender, the sheer intensity of her most powerful rivals indomitable spirit... a spirit that was her privilege to shatter!
“You’re mine Clayton,” Eisenberg whispered with forceful whispers into the hardbody’s closest ear, breathing heavily and, somehow, tightening her grip further, wrenching her foes neck with mounting pleasure. “I’m not going to share you; Pandora can keep the native, you, your mine!”
Just as the desperately defiant, Army of One Hot Chick was about to somehow force her way back up to standing, Erika allowed her and released, stepping backwards to give her adversary an inch of space. It was a hollow mercy, Eisenberg spinning the brunette about, the blonde growling with unrestrained hunger as she SWUNG her arms about to SNAP a Bearhug closed, the Sublime Serpent threatening to complete her trifecta of constrictions!
“MINE!!”
Clayton again proved too slow to react, this times thanks to a combination of pain, fatigue and most importantly the head-rush that accompanied Erika’s released sleeper. It thus became childsplay for Eisenberg to apply her devastating bearhug. The moment the German’s arms began to SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEZE, Becky’s head slumped backward, the Army Brat uttering an incredibly uncharacteristic desperate moan.
Delighting in the music her embrace was creating, Erika bore down harder... failing to notice that CLAYTON’S arms were beginning to slip around HER waist. Then, rather abruptly, Becky’s head swung forward, allowing her to meet Eisenberg’s gaze as the BRUNETTE’S arms began to constrict in a bearhug of her very own!
Apparently, tonight’s contest of oneupswomanship had reached its inevitable conclusion. Just which one of these awesome specimens could SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZE the other into surrender?
Following an astonished, long and heavy groan from a suddenly stiffening Eisenberg, the blonde recovered in time from Becky’s counter constriction to retain her own. The Amazonian blonde shuddering as the muscles in her back and shoulders cramped, threatening to collapse as the equally Amazonian brunette applied breathtaking pressure, just as the German doubled down on her own squeeze to steadily sap the near limitless will of the brunette.
Both hardbodies teetered, each losing a step before re-taking it, both breathless and red faced, refusing to give in an inch at the middle of the ring where they had both started, and neither willing to surrender. Eyes of deep brown and cold blue matched and gazed deeply, engaging in a battle of their own and willing the other to blink, foreheads pressed together as two incredibly powerful physiques writhed and groaned and demanded to be victorious...
Until Eisenberg quirked her lips and snapped her head forwards, the Harbinger of Horror... locking her lips about Clayton’s in the most possessive kiss in FAWN’s history!
Becky’s eyes snapped open wide, the brunette having considered plenty of ways Erika might have opted to respond to her bearhug... but not this one. Despite the crowd’s allegiance to Clayton, Eisenberg’s liplock draws a rather raucous cheer from the FAWNatics. Becky herself managed to shake off her shock to double down on her embrace...
... but the Perfect Predator’s kiss was more than an act of possession. It also denied Becky one of her two airways, Clayton reduced to attempting to breathe through her nose until Erika elected to come up for air. Granted, that worked both ways--but Eisenberg had possessed the luxury of taking in one deep breath before launching this erotic assault, resulting in her need to replenish her lungs coming considerably past the point where the Army Brat needed the same.
And it also meant that she needed a much smaller gasp to top off than Clayton did, before her mouth claimed Becky’s again.
Within a few seconds of the second liplock, Becky’s hands began to slip from around her forearms...
... and her arms began to slide down Erika’s hips...
... Clayton’s eyes started to roll back in her head...
... and the Army of One Hot Chick’s noggin lolled backward, her neck losing tension...
Feeling the Army Brat finally slacken, Eisenberg released her lip lock, inhaling deeply with a sharp hike of her bosom and, somehow, TRIPPLED own her devastating embrace, the Curvaceous Carnivore perhaps cementing her Bearhug as the most brutal in FAWN as, with a hollow gasp from Becky, something in Hardbodies back audibly POPPED! Clayton slumped, all but ragdolled within Eisenberg’s increasingly victorious grasp, the blonde shaking out the unwillingly submissive brunette with sharp, unkind jostles.
With the peepers of the Army of One Hot Chick half fluttered, the increasingly concerned Official stepped forward to check her well being, eager to end the contest before Erika felt the need to more permanently cement her likely victory. Eisenberg wasn’t ready, the blonde releasing her hold and, before Becky could topple, she pulled the brunette forwards and secured her half conscience noggin between her flexing thighs, unable to resist a quick squeeze.
The Howling Commandos protested, but she didn’t listen, already in motion as she leaned over and wrapped her arms about her most powerful rival’s tenderized midriff. With one final heave of effort, the German had at least one last statement to make, muscling the Amazonian American skywards for the Silencer!!
THE SILENCER: @1:15
www.youtube.com/watch?v=bevdRipdhY8
Clayton settled into a seat astride her opponent’s shoulder, the brunette’s arms windmilling for the second or so that she was allowed to stay on that towering perch. But then, the Curvaceous Carnivore reversed course, sending Becky’s body swinging back toward the canvas with a MASSIVE swing...
... but if only Eisenberg had allowed her to hit the mat.
Erika hopped off the mat--not very far, just enough to allow her to tuck her knees toward her chest, and put them directly in the path of Becky Clayton’s descent. Eisenberg’s back hit the canvas a fraction of a second before the Army of One Hot Chick’s spine was BLASTED by the German’s knees. For a move called the Silencer, it failed to live up to its name at first, Clayton offering a chilling--and, for her Howling Commandos, heart-wrenching--scream... but by the time Clayton toppled off those bony joints, the brunette was well and truly muted.
And her body was now utterly limp, gathering in a face down heap off Eisenberg’s right side, the occasional tiny spasm the only thing indicating ANY life remained in her.
Consciousness was another matter...
The FAWNatics fully expected a pinfall to follow, they yearned for it in fact, if only to allow their toppled Heroine the chance to withdraw and fight another day. Eisenberg, however, was in no such hurry, not with her foe slumped between her thighs, not with one of FAWN’s most sought after prizes within reach.
Slowly, methodically, inevitably, the blonde slipped her arms beneath the incredibly strong, lusciously long stems of her defiant rival, ever so slowly tucking them up upwards until the brunettes knees were slung comfortably over the top of the blonde’s powerful, unflinching shoulders. With the lower body of Clayton suitably raised, Becky’s upper body became stacked up on her own shoulders, the back off her noggin resting on the canvas.
Now kneeling herself, Eisenberg smiled, the European finding her features nestled comfortably, temptingly between the American’s warm, shivering and smooth thighs, the near defeated Hardbodies sex tentatively before the blonde’s slips. With her teeth exposed, and with precision born from experience, she tore at the thin fabric concealing her desired prize, swiftly creating a small hole through which could strike.
With one last, deep inhale, Erika plunged her lips and tongue forwards, delving deep and claiming what was hers with insatiable hunger...
Some FAWNatics were horrified. Many were turncoats, now voicing THUNDEROUS approval for Erika Eisenberg and the liberties she was taking. The rest were simply stunned into slack-jawed silence, transfixed and utterly paralyzed as they watched the Perfect Predator have her way with the Army of One Hot Chick...
Count amongst the number of the slack-jawed and hypnotized the referee himself, who stood utterly rooted to his spot in the near corner, unable to properly process what he was watching, or to act on his duties.
Clayton herself had been sent so deeply into oblivion that she initially failed to show any sign of acknowledging the invasion. Gradually, though, Becky began to moan softly, her eyes still sealed shut even as her lips parted...
Eventually, her eyelids started to flutter open...
“Wha...” the brunette started to gasp, her voice catching in response to a particularly skillful flick of the Sadistic Serpent’s tongue. “Wha...” Becky tried again, this time attempting to push her knees off of Erika’s shoulders, but while consciousness might be returning to her body, strength remains an exiled entity. “Whaaaauuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...” the Army Brat tried to ask one more time, until Eisenberg’s tongue turned the vocalization into a moan.
While Becky’s legs remained unable to move, her hands finally managed to move... enough to grip Erika’s thighs. Only instead of pushing the blonde away, they attempted to pull her CLOSER...
Eisenberg accepted the invitation, the final capitulation from Clayton, the Army of One Hot Chick surrendering and, to the shock of the FAWNatics, accepting her submission beneath the Curvaceous Carnivore. The blonde delved deeper, ransacking the breached kingdom, rousing ever greater groans from the brunette, plucking at her sex and driving her towards ecstasy. Slipping her decisive fingers between her rivals firm, quivering thighs, she pried them further open, exposing the cool flesh and forcing the world to watch as THE Becky Clayton was driven ever closer towards, what some would come to call, the most complete defeat of her career...
The Army Brat’s cries gradually became louder, higher pitched, and more pleading. Soon, quite involuntarily, Becky’s upturned hips rocked in time with Erika’s efforts, and Clayton’s fingers plunged tighter into the meat of Eisenberg’s thighs. “Puh... puuuuhhhh... plluuuueeeeeeaaaasssssseeuuuuuuhhhhh...” the brunette panted...
... but please, what? Stop? DON’T stop? Take her beyond the brink? DON’T send her spiraling into the abyss?
Whatever her meaning, it was soon a moot pointed. Clayton’s digits suddenly clutched at Erika’s thighs with white-knuckled intensity, one final cry for the Army Brat enough to indicate to those who could not see what Eisenberg could confirm by taste.
Her opponent had been defeated, completely and utterly. Just not officially.
A matter easily rectified, Eisenberg lifting her spent rival’s softly spasming thighs and tossing them to the canvas, powerful stems shuddering on the mat as their owner continue to pulse with sharp twitches, riding the continuing waves of her orgasm. With the very tip of her tongue, Erika savored the taste of her most thorough victory yet, another Challenger repulsed, and another heroine found wanting.
The Blonde gradually uncurled from her own bliss, coming to straddle the defeated Clayton, the Army of One Hot Chick well and the truly the possession of the Harbinger of Horror for the rest of the evening, the blonde pressing her palms down hard on the other Hardbodies submissive shoulders and awaiting the inevitable.
The Official, after blinking to regain his composure, dropped to the canvas and began counting, Eisenberg barely acknowledging him as her gaze of ice blue bore deep into the deep brown eyes of rival, a promise her twitching lips.
“...mine...”
ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!
”DEVIL”:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=XxlaJQGve7s
Erika Eisenberg emerged amongst the stark and piercing beat of that opening rhythm, the melody as unsettling as it was threatening, the curvaceous carnivore striding with purpose, with desire, her pace unceasing and her gaze entrancing, ice blue and calculating, alluring... perilous...
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 Titan the FAWNatics feared her to be. Slowly, with cold, methodical, malicious intent, she circled the ring, refusing to acknowledge the shades that were the bystanders, moving like a predator pinning down her prey, that stare, that piercing, ravenous stare soaking in the ground upon which she would feed upon her volunteering challenger.
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.
The Announcer, keeping his distance and finding his voice, cut through the pervading silence and made the coming contest official.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, the following contest will be an Open Challenge!! Introducing first, hailing from Berlin, Germany, standing in at 5’9” and 140lbs, the Perfect Predator, ERIKA! EISENBERG!”
That smallest of mirthless smiles remained upon her features as the houselights returned with agonizing slowness, finding her corner as though she owned it, her eyes unfaltering from their gaze of the curtains which had yet to flutter open. Perhaps mockingly, perhaps sincerely, she licked her lips, a long trailing of her tongue, as the viper could hardly wait to sink her teeth in...
The FAWNatics followed her gaze, well aware of the torment and terror that Erika had sown in recent memory, unstoppable as she tore a ragged hole through their beloved favorites. Not in over a year had anyone pinned her, and still the challenge remained open, her appetite for suffering refusing to be slaked. Even those who formed the crème of FAWN’s pedigree, the former Tag and IC Champion, Juliet Bloodwind, could not prevent the ongoing carnage, another pedestal for the ever more elaborate throne of ‘corpses’.
The silence lingered, the shadows lengthened, the torch that needed tendering going unheeded...
It almost became unbearable...
Finally, the silence was broken--and once Shinedown’s “Heroes” hit, the FAWNatics ERUPT into THUNDEROUS cheers.
”HEROES”:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qi8q_t3le60
“And her opponent,” the announcer resumed, his voice almost drowned out by the roar of the crowd, “hailing from Denver, Colorado… She stands five feet eight inches tall weighs in tonight at one hundred and thirty-five. She is a former WOLF World champion, FAWN World champion and FAWN Tag Team champion. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Camouflage Crusher… the BFG… BEEECCCKKKYYY CLLLAAAYYYTTTOOONNN!!!!!"
BECKY CLAYTON:
Becky Clayton burst through the curtains and into view, the imposing robobabe greeting her fans with a jaunty two-fisted pose. This resulted in a cacophonous cheer, not just for the woman in question, but for her togs, which were among the best on the roster. For those of you who’ve been living under a rock for the last year or so, prepare yourself. Becky was decked out in a camouflage two-piece with tie-sided bottoms and an impossible to ignore ladder / double helix of lycra that ran from the top of her waistband all the way up to the southern border of her cups. She finished it off with matching forest green pads and boots and a few wraps of camouflage wrist tape.
Having rallied proper support from her troops, Clayton started down to the squared circle. Though she was extremely eager to get tonight’s battle started, the Army of One Hot Chick still took the time to slap hands on both sides of the aisle, as something told her every ounce of support she could rally might come in handy tonight. Breaking into a jog once she has traversed the aisle, Clayton bounded up the steel steps and leaped over the top rope in one effortless burst of kinetic energy. Coming to a stop in the center of the ring, Becky wheeled to the hard camera and snaps off a crisp salute, then began to eager pace back and forth as the referee moved to inspect the blonde across from her.
All the while, the FAWNatics refuse to grow silent. True, Erika Eisenberg had torn through every woman brave enough to answer her summons so far--but the Army of One Hot Chick was something different, something MORE than the German had yet to meet. If anyone could thwart Eisenberg, it was Becky Clayton...
Erika remained languid, uncoiled within her corner with arms stretched outwards, the tips of her fingers slowly, methodically, rhythmically, drumming a persistent beat atop the strands of the top ropes. She listened not to the bleating masses, her gaze unfaltering, eyes of feral blue boring into Clayton as she gazed upon her greatest prey to date.
No stranger to the military, Eisenberg had herself policed her own Nations, and it had been some time since she had found cause to tie down a trained killer...
She trailed the tip of her tongue slowly, teasing her own lips, before she smiled with barely suggested mirth, finally pushing free from her corner and approaching her contender. The tone of Erika was kept low, her words meant only for the multi time, former Champion, the venom of her barb personal. “Your native friend,” she purred with venom, “she was tender...”
As psychological ploys went, it was pretty transparent. That didn’t make it any easier not to rise to the bait, but the Army of One Hot Chick did her best to keep her temper in check. “Yeah?” Becky asked with a raised eyebrow. “Well, I got news for you, Erika--I’m not. In fact, I’m pretty sure you’re gonna choke on me tonight.”
Clayton didn’t wait for an answer, but she didn’t exactly charge in headlong, either. Instead, the veteran brought her right hand up, fingers flexing, offering up an unspoken invitation for Eisenberg to enter into a Test of Strength...
The reply from the blonde was not immediate, at least not verbally as she tilted her head ever so slightly sideways, the tips of her blood red lips twitching with amusement. As she brought her own hands skywards, the Official knew there was to be no delaying the inevitable and immediately rang for the bell, the clang accompanying the slapping together of strong palms and the thrusting of flexed biceps.
“I was expecting the sibling,” Eisenberg cooed between grunts of fresh exertion, “has she merely grown accustomed to failure?”
“Not my place to speak for Nyssa,” the Army Brat hissed, raising her left hand heavenward. “But my guess is, she’s got bigger fish to fry.” Clayton’s digits wave, repeating the very same invitation, Becky’s eyes narrowing as she waited for Erika to accept. “What’re you waiting for?” Clayton asked, her lips curling ever so slightly into a smirk. “Afraid of how quickly these ‘guns’ are gonna put you on your knees?”
“Amusing,” Erika’s hesitation was nonexistent as she raised her other palm to smack together with Clayton’s, the blonde eyeing the brunette as they pressed against one another with force. “Yet inaccurate,” she hissed with immediate effort through clenched teeth, two of the most prominent Destroyers in wrestling refusing to give an inch, accompanied by the insistent applause of the watching FAWNatics. Biceps shivered as they searched for even the barest hint of leverage, and the Official ensured that he did not stray too close.
“You will be slung across my shoulders before this night is done...”
“That’ll be a neat trick,” the Army Grunt grunted, perfect pearlies pressed tight as she strived to assert her will over Eisenberg. “Not sure how you’re gonna get anyone over your shoulder when they’re carting you out of here...” With that said, both women fell silent--save for the occasional hiss, the odd gasp and the infrequent groan as Becky and Erika diverted every bit of energy available to them into winning this initial skirmish in tonight’s war. Two sets of arms quivered, two pairs of legs quaked and buckled before regaining their resolve, and already, two women found themselves beginning to glisten under the arena lights...
... but this stalemate couldn’t last forever. Gradually, one woman began to sink toward her knees, the other’s expression brightening at this sign of weakness--and spurring her to bear down harder...
The applause of the FAWNatics faltered immediately as their worst fears came to pass, ‘the’ Becky Clayton the first to buckle as she dropped down heavily onto one knee. So shocked were they by the grudging capitulation, they scarcely had time to adjust to the new reality before Eisenberg compounded their sudden horror. Neither, it seemed, did the Army of One Hot Chick as the viciously smirking Erika capitalized on her advantage with an unexpected turn of leverage.
Instead of bearing down all the harder, painfully grinding her proud Challenger ever deeper into the canvas, Eisenberg instead stepped backwards, the insistent stride accompanied by a fierce pull on the brunettes arms that YANKED the unbalanced Clayton right back up to standing. Temporarily at least, Erika ducking low and jabbing a joint into the rock hard tummy of her fresh rival, a triumphant growl turned grunt accompanying the Herculean feat of muscling the crowd heroine up across her shoulders for a Fireman’s Carry. Her threat fulfilled almost immediately, the blonde prepared to throw herself backwards for a brutal Samoan Drop!
Just as terror TRULY began to grip the collective heart of tonight’s capacity crowd, hope returned--in the form of a barrage of forearms, slung rapidly into Erika’s temple by Becky Clayton. It took a near half dozen before Eisenberg’s bonds were broken, allowing the multiple time former champion the opportunity to slip off her foe’s shoulders, landing behind the statuesque blonde. Erika would not be denied so readily, however. The FAWNatics had scarcely been able to start cheering Becky’s resurgence when the German turned, her right fist balled and swinging for Clayton’s temple...
.... but the Army of One Hot Chick proved quick as well as powerful, first ducking the blow, then straightening back to her full height with Erika’s arm still kept behind Becky’s noggin. Reaching across the Sadistic Serpent’s chest, Clayton’s other arm wrapped around Eisenberg’s back, the Army Brat hoping to execute a standing uranage.
STANDING URANAGE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=5sUQgAISWOA
With an almighty heave, the statuesque physique of Eisenberg was uprooted; the Amazon lifted off her feet and upended, whipped up and over in a short yet impressive arc that brought the blonde down hard across her shoulders with a fierce THUMP! Erika grunted with a hiss as she ricocheted off the canvas and rolled with the impact, a growl caught in her throat as she tumbled over onto her knees, the FAWNatics nurturing the embers of hope as they witnessed Clayton taking the Perfect Predator to the canvas far more swiftly than anyone else had done this last year.
For most women, getting Erika on the mat this quickly might have led them to go for an equally swift cover. But Becky Clayton was NOT most women. Seeing Eisenberg already up on her knees, the Army of One Hot Chick rolled to hers as well, quickly crawling toward her opponent from behind. The, fashioning two sets of fingers into claws, Clayton sent her hands flying down toward the German’s shoulders, two sets of talons ready to plunge into soft skin and tender muscles with her E-Tool (shoulder claws).
Erika HISSED!! a she was tenderized, audible to those in the front rows and visible to those in the back, the Sublime Serpent exposing her teeth and snarling as her head snapped into a sharp arch. With her shoulders stiffening into a rigid curl, Eisenberg’s hiss lingered with the hint of vengeance, filling the air as her fingers twitched into closed and impotent fists. The blonde jerked and shivered with infrequent spasms as Clayton worked her hold deeper, grinding her rival’s muscles and gradually draining them of potency, the FAWNatics applauding to spur Becky on.
As Erika remained stationary and paralyzed upon one knee, her lips began to curl, the hard camera zooming in to capture history as the Army Brat ground down the Beast... only to catch that Eisenberg was smiling. The slightest quirk that betrayed the blonde’s amusement, pleasure mixed with pain in disturbing quantities.
“H...how...qu...quaint...” she purred through her clenched teeth, rolling her shoulders deeper into Clayton’s piercing grip...
A lesser woman might have been unnerved by Erika’s utterance... but kindly refer back to early about Becky Clayton. The Army Brat matched Eisenberg’s clenched teeth by gritting her own, her talons digging ever deeper into the Sadistic Serpent’s shoulders. But as much as the German’s words might have been bravado, Becky understood how unlikely it was the E-Tool would earn a submission, so she roughly pulled away her claws... and then cocked her right elbow, dropping it atop the crown of Erika’s skull.
A stunned blonde stunner groan, toppling over to her side--just as the Army Brat had hoped. Rising, Clayton circled to Erika’s feet, stooping down to grab both her opponent’s ankles. Lifting those ludicrously long and luscious stems off the mat, Becky began to roll Eisenberg to her chest, intending to step over and sink into a crouch, locking in a Boston Crab.
The nearest camera picked up a worrying creak as Clayton dropped into a deep seat, Eisenberg’s incredible physique contorted into a curve that it was never meant to, her spine curling into an ever more gradually pronounced ‘C’. The Harbinger of Horror grooooooooaned as she was muscled into the mercies of her adversary, the domineering blonde suffering at the hands of the defiant brunette as her vertebra popped and protested in the same manner she had made so many others do likewise.
Still, she would not relent, lips pressed together tightly as she dug her nails into the canvas, elbows pushing up on the plywood as she embraced the pain that shivered with white hot pulses throughout her body. The German draaaaaaaaaged herself across the canvas, unrelenting and determined, eyes of coldest blue piercing as she reached out for the ropes, fingers seizing the bottom coil and...
She did not call out a protest, Eisenberg not offering a single, further utterance. Whilst others would demand a break to end their torment, Erika retained her shivering silence, no amount of satisfaction offered as a platitude to the heroic Clayton.
By the count of “TWO!”, the Army of One Hot Chick had dropped Erika’s legs and risen to her full height, Becky stepping away to comply with the official’s call for a clean break. That left Eisenberg free to start dragging herself back to her feet with the aid of the ropes, Clayton laying back as the Perfect Predator rose. With her opponent on the ropes, Becky remained at center ring, her body tensed--but she beckoned Erika to join her with a wave of her fingers. “Whenever you’re ready to go again...” Clayton said, her lips pursed in the tiniest of smiles.
Eisenberg did not see fit to answer, eyes of crystal blue unwavering as she pulled her hand slowly across blood tinted lip, savoring her own scent as she uncurled and was represented at her full height. She advanced, her own fingers twitching, her pace unhurried as she bore down on the American, raising her own fingers slowly before, much to the silent delight of the witnessing FAWNatics, she SLAPPED!! her palms firmly against Becky’s. The Curvaceous Carnivore then struck, lashing out like the predators she had skinned for her attire, the blonde darting her head forwards as a weapon to CRACK!! her forehead into the all too tempting, all too angelic features of her paragon Rival!
Erika’s assault was not only as swift as the creatures that had sacrificed themselves for attire, but it was every bit as effective as well, the Army Brat uttering a pained groan as the headbutt rattled her senses. The FAWNatics responded much more loudly, and overwhelmingly in the negative, jeering Eisenberg for not having the courage to go toe to toe with Clayton. Becky sunk to one knee, her eyes blinking rapidly, the brunette trying to shake off the ringing echoes of Eisenberg’s headbutt.
“Americans”, Eisenberg cooed with an undercurrent of venom, boring down all the harder on the duo’s test of strength, and driving the multi time, former Champion even deeper towards the mat. “Always proud without reason. I drove you to your knees already; I have no need to prove again.”
Suddenly she released the duel handholds and flung her rivals quivering arms away, Eisenberg dropping down to one knee herself before her adversary turned shell-shocked prey, Becky’s dazed gaze more pliant now than it was oh so defiant. Bosom to bosom, the Perfect Predator quirked her lips with hunger as whipped her arms back around, SLAMMING her palms together to either side of Clayton’s temples, Eisenberg flexing her biceps to begin SQUEEZING the gorgeous braincase of the One Hawt Army Chick in a sadistic Vice!
It’s funny how sometimes, the simplest of holds can be the most excruciating, as well as the most effective. Of course, at the moment, much of that humor was lost on Becky Clayton. It only took a few seconds before Erika’s crushing grip forced the brunette’s jaw to slacken, and just a couple of seconds after that for the Army Brat’s tongue to start to slip past her lips. To her credit, Becky’s fist balled up, the former GI straining to lift her right arm and swing a punch toward Eisenberg’s flank--even as the vice forced Becky’s eyes to cross...
Even as Clayton’s right fist balled and quivered to rise, Eisenberg curled her lips to smile cruelly, flexing her biceps a little harder to elicit a groan and judder from the slackening heroine, opting to rob the brunette of her opportunity to retaliate and released her hold. As the suddenly relieved Becky threatened to buckle forwards, Erika circled around the back of her, slipping her arms beneath the camouflaged cutie’s and sweeping upwards, moving to link her fingers together behind the back of her rival’s neck to lock in a vindictive Full Nelson!
Erika’s digits laced together, creating a tight seal as the Sadistic Serpent locked in her nelson. Almost immediately, the Army Brat groaned, her powerful arms bearing down against Erika’s in an attempt to break the lock. But while the German’s leg strength is a well-known fact, she is hardly lacking in upper body strength as well, Eisenberg managing to keep her hands together--albeit with some difficulty. “Not this time,” Erika hissed... then began to push up from her knees.
The blonde got her feet underneath her, and with Clayton still kneeling, that only served to INCREASE the pressure on the nelson. Suddenly, Becky’s strangled, anguished groans grew a little louder and more pronounced--especially when the Perfect Predator shifted her stance, her feet sliding further apart as she leaned forward, Erika making expert use of her leverage to torture the helpless Army of One Hot Chick. Still, when the referee asked, Clayton managed to spit out an agonized, “NUUOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!”
Eisenberg rocked ever so slowly from side to side, finding new inches of torque with each new rotation, twisting and rolling with the smallest of sharp, severe adjustments that elicited fresh moans, Erika smiling as she savored each note that she desired. “Your friend, the native,” she cooed, her tongue venomous as she leaned closer, whispering for Clayton, “she groaned for Pandora after I offered to share her...”
The mere mention of Becky’s nemesis would be enough to inflame righteous fury, and Eisenberg relished the prospect of crushing it! Barely allowing the scantiest of moments for the revelation to sink in, Eisenberg HEAVED!! and, with Full Nelson retained, YANKED!! the folded destroyer right up to vertical, only to HEAVE!! again with a possessive shout to rip the brunette right off her feet as well. The Blond pivoted, spinning in an attempt to SNAP!! her foes spine with a ruthless, Half Nelson Backbreaker!
HALF NELSON BACKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=m6YcE4akKXY
It was a special class of competitor that could entertain dreams of making Becky Clayton look like a Shea London-style lightweight, but Erika’s credentials were impeccable. Muscling the Army of One Hot Chick off her feet, the Curvaceous Carnivore dropped down to one knee almost as quickly, viciously slinging her writhing cargo downward.
“GYYYYYYYAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!” Clayton howled, as soon as her back CRASHED into Erika’s outstretched thigh, the American brunette rocketed from the impact back into the air before she tumbled to the canvas. Becky spilled over to her stomach, left sprawled in a moaning heap, her left leg bent at the knee and a boot pointed toward the rafters while her right foot gingerly kicked at the mat, her left hand moving to massage the ache out of her lower spine.
Utterly unable to resist such a tantalizing target, Erika’s eyes widened as she inhaled sharply, her full bosom hiking as a cry of panic erupted from the spectators. Eisenberg whipped her statuesque physique about with lethal swiftness, leaping upon Clayton as though she were some tender morsel and, with a ravenous exhale, immediately began coiling about her momentarily crippled prey. Seizing the brunettes powerful shoulders, the blonde rolled Becky over, the pinnacle of FAWN’s Paragons forced to face upwards as their torso’s were shoved together, Eisenberg opening her hips and, much to the horror of those watching, wrapped her lusciously long legs about her rivals toned midriff and CLAMPED her thunderous thighs tight for a SICKENINGLY intense squeeze!
“You and I,” Erika breathed heavily, tasting euphoria with the experience, her lips almost brushing Clayton’s as she were mere moments from locking the hold in completely, “we can compete forever.”
The first pulse of Erika’s steel thighs brought a long, low past Becky’s lips--and it took the Army of One Hot Chick a moment to regain enough oxygen to answer her opponent. “Yeah,” Clayton gasped, “and a good thing, too. Cause if you think you’re gonna get a submission out of me, ‘forever’ is gonna be about as long as you’re waiting...”
Eisenberg’s gams started to go to work again, and again, Clayton cried out... but she didn’t remain motionless. The brunette’s arms shot upward, slipping by Erika’s shoulders, her fingers plunging into the German’s flaxen mane. Suddenly, the Army Brat PUSHED down against the back of the Sadistic Serpent’s skull, trying to guide Erika’s features toward her cleavage. Jugging women out might not be Becky’s stock and trade, but desperate times called for desperate measures--and the longer Clayton found herself trapped between Erika’s thighs, the more desperate she was likely to become.
The European had no time to inhale as her features were driven deep into the American’s firm bosom, her growl quickly becoming muffled as Becky folded her arms about the blonde’s cranium to keep it buried. Eisenberg protested by squeezing her thighs all the TIGHTER!!, fighting fire with fire as she increased the intensity, grinding the midriff of her hardbody rival with enough sheer force to render Clayton’s own gloriously long stems numb and near paralyzed.
And yet, for all the pained grunts and groans that were squeezed out of the Army Brat, Eisenberg’s airways remained buried, and with each passing moment it appeared as though the FAWNatics were witnessing the impossible, the thighs of the Sublime Serpent beginning to slacken and open...
Feeling her breath coming easier to her (while Erika was no doubt experiencing the exact opposite phenomenon), Becky continued to push against her opponent’s noggin, keeping the impromptu front sleeper as tight as she could... until Clayton felt the pressure on her midsection ease enough to allow her to move. At that point, the Army of One Hot Chick began to slither out from underneath the Sadistic Serpent, sending Eisenberg flopping to her back with a shove, the all-too-often dominant blonde’s eyes glazed over in a manner few could remember seeing.
For her part, Clayton’s chest heaved with each deep breath she drew in, her lungs practically burning after their ordeal in Erika’s scissors. But rest would have to wait until after victory was secured. Climbing to her feet, Becky stooped and scooped the German up to hers as well. She then dipped a little lower, threading an arm through Eisenberg’s thighs as she powered her opponent onto her shoulders and into a fireman’s carry. Becky then reached to cross Erika’s ankles, her Howling Commandos ready to erupt if Clayton could deliver her signature Army of One...
ARMY OF ONE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nz9GPZjiL3A
With ice blue eyes vacant, the jug shocked Erika was muscled across her most powerful rivals shoulders with an impressive display from Clayton, the brunette stubbornly reversing her fortunes and securely shouldering the Amazonian physique of the blonde tormentor in a dominant display. For a moment at least, with air slowly returning to her oxygen staved torso, Eisenberg almost appeared to be submissive, one arm swinging idly as Becky crossed her foes ankles to fully secure the hold.
The Howling Commandos were indeed ready, and they could not have shouted louder as the momentum fully shifted, the Army of One Hot Chick ready to make a emphatic statement, to be the one who finally overcame the Harbinger of Horror as she spun the incredible blonde about, both plummeting to the canvas and Eisenberg finding herself PLANTED!! into the center of the mat across her buckling shoulders! Almost nailed right through the canvas by one of the very few who could do so to her, Erika recoiled with a chest wracking groan and would have bucked away had an alert brunette not collected the lusciously long legs of her foe and folded the tall blonde up into stunningly small ball.
ONE!
TWO!!
Eisenberg all but EXPLODED!! free from the near fall, rejuvenated perhaps by the intensity of the moment, breathing deeply as she rolled to her side and blinked with returning awareness.
For her part, the Army of One Hot Chick was CLEARLY very much feeling more and more like her old self, the American brunette pounding her right fist to her chest as she got back to her feet--a gesture which kept the FAWNatics on theirs, roaring along with their champion as Clayton marched to her adversary. Yanking Eisenberg to verticality with a handful of hair, Becky’s hand then shifted from Erika’s locks to her windpipe... as Becky’s other hand went directly between the Perfect Predator’s perfect thighs. Eisenberg had made her look like a lightweight earlier, and now it was Becky’s opportunity to return the favor as she attempted to send Erika over her head with a military press... and if she could do that, then DRIVE the German blonde to the canvas with her Black Ops powerslam.
BLACK OPS @3:03:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=R8XIPPCWNxk
And the Howling Commandos erupted once more as Clayton one upped her own power display, summoning all of her considerable might and dispelling all disbelief with a single, Herculean effort worthy of immortality, the Gladiatrix photographers agreeing as they were there to capture it. With a triumphant grunt of effort and accompanied by thunderous applause, Becky bench pressed THE Curvaceous Carnivore high above her head, arms extended to their maximum as many of those in the locker room also began cheering, a display that would finally but the daemon that was Eisenberg to bed.
This, however, was just the precursor, Becky dropping her arms and releasing her cargo, gravity grabbing Erika high above her head and dragging her earthwards. Clayton was ready to catch her, braced and prepped to run through the devastating movements that would SLAM the remaining life clean out of the vindictive blonde...
Only the moment the rock hard midriff of the German came within reach, Erika spoiled glorious destiny, shoving her way free from her unwanted perch before a fresh grip could be secured and landed with vile intent behind her most powerful rival. Eisenberg didn’t hesitate, the Perfect Predator striking, maximizing on the brunettes blindside and, with her adversary unbalanced, wrapped a palm across the throat of the American and took her turn to SMACK! a fierce claw between the other hardbody’s thighs. Ducking then lifting, Erika grunted as she moved to muscle the Army of One Hot Chick across her strong shoulders for a merciless Argentine Backbreaker!!
Few women had ever displayed the wherewithal to finagle their way out of the Black Ops once Becky Clayton had gotten them airborne. That level of surprise, coupled with Erika’s new positioning in the Army Brat’s blindspot, proved to be an inescapable duo. To the crowd’s displeasure, the brunette was soon strapped with her back against Eisenberg’s powerful shoulders... and the game of oneupswomanship continued, the Curvaceous Carnivore engaging in an impressive display of her strength by performing not one but two squats while holding the Army of One Hot Chick...
... but as she rose the second time, Erika left her feet, dropping to her knees and sending a MASSIVE, spine-shattering jolt through Becky’s back when her knees hit the canvas. With a loud moan, Becky spilled off Eisenberg’s shoulders and rolled away, once again coming to a halt on her stomach, both arms wrapped above her head as her feet drummed at the mat.
With her pulse quickening, Erika was glistening, gloriously sheeted in a thin layer of perspiration, the blonde of sinisterly seductive stature striding with a languid circling of her hips, methodically prowling the canvas with arms outstretched and head leaned back, her foe broken and groaning at her feet. Her lips twitching, slick with red and inviting, smiling and grimacing and smiling again, some manner of broken psychology drawing pleasure from both their mounting torments.
“I warned you Clayton,” she almost sighed with open relish, ending her indulgence as she turned back to Becky, leaning forwards to grasp the brunette by her full mane, one Lioness forcibly yanking the other up onto her knees to assert control. There was to be no further hesitation, the Perfect Predator on key, whipping her arms about to secure her dreaded sleeper, “I will snap you before we’re done!”
Suddenly, alarmingly, Becky’s skull was throbbing--Erika’s snaking limbs instantly reducing the flow of blood to the Army Brat’s brain to a mere trickle. Immediately, Becky’s arms began to spasm and jerk, her fists balled--but with Eisenberg behind her, those punches--more involuntary than directed--came up empty. Eventually, Clayton managed to regain enough muscle control to fire a couple of elbows back into Erika’s ribs...
... but the Sadistic Serpent closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, weathering the storm.
While most of the Howling Commandos shouted support to their general, a number of fans grew silent. On her knees, the brunette’s options were extremely curtailed. As if sensing their thoughts, Becky began straining to push up to one knee--and if she could get there, maaaybe she could get back to her feet. But with one hundred and forty pounds of Perfect Predator bearing down on her, that was easier said than done.
As the hard camera zoomed in, zeroing in on what the world could feel was a pivotal moment, the photographers at ringside appearing all the more like hyaenas as they circled, the audience at home and all those watching could perhaps see every single one of Eisenberg’s clenched teeth. She was not grimacing, she was grinning, relishing every single moment of Becky’s fight back, her refusal to surrender, the sheer intensity of her most powerful rivals indomitable spirit... a spirit that was her privilege to shatter!
“You’re mine Clayton,” Eisenberg whispered with forceful whispers into the hardbody’s closest ear, breathing heavily and, somehow, tightening her grip further, wrenching her foes neck with mounting pleasure. “I’m not going to share you; Pandora can keep the native, you, your mine!”
Just as the desperately defiant, Army of One Hot Chick was about to somehow force her way back up to standing, Erika allowed her and released, stepping backwards to give her adversary an inch of space. It was a hollow mercy, Eisenberg spinning the brunette about, the blonde growling with unrestrained hunger as she SWUNG her arms about to SNAP a Bearhug closed, the Sublime Serpent threatening to complete her trifecta of constrictions!
“MINE!!”
Clayton again proved too slow to react, this times thanks to a combination of pain, fatigue and most importantly the head-rush that accompanied Erika’s released sleeper. It thus became childsplay for Eisenberg to apply her devastating bearhug. The moment the German’s arms began to SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEZE, Becky’s head slumped backward, the Army Brat uttering an incredibly uncharacteristic desperate moan.
Delighting in the music her embrace was creating, Erika bore down harder... failing to notice that CLAYTON’S arms were beginning to slip around HER waist. Then, rather abruptly, Becky’s head swung forward, allowing her to meet Eisenberg’s gaze as the BRUNETTE’S arms began to constrict in a bearhug of her very own!
Apparently, tonight’s contest of oneupswomanship had reached its inevitable conclusion. Just which one of these awesome specimens could SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZE the other into surrender?
Following an astonished, long and heavy groan from a suddenly stiffening Eisenberg, the blonde recovered in time from Becky’s counter constriction to retain her own. The Amazonian blonde shuddering as the muscles in her back and shoulders cramped, threatening to collapse as the equally Amazonian brunette applied breathtaking pressure, just as the German doubled down on her own squeeze to steadily sap the near limitless will of the brunette.
Both hardbodies teetered, each losing a step before re-taking it, both breathless and red faced, refusing to give in an inch at the middle of the ring where they had both started, and neither willing to surrender. Eyes of deep brown and cold blue matched and gazed deeply, engaging in a battle of their own and willing the other to blink, foreheads pressed together as two incredibly powerful physiques writhed and groaned and demanded to be victorious...
Until Eisenberg quirked her lips and snapped her head forwards, the Harbinger of Horror... locking her lips about Clayton’s in the most possessive kiss in FAWN’s history!
Becky’s eyes snapped open wide, the brunette having considered plenty of ways Erika might have opted to respond to her bearhug... but not this one. Despite the crowd’s allegiance to Clayton, Eisenberg’s liplock draws a rather raucous cheer from the FAWNatics. Becky herself managed to shake off her shock to double down on her embrace...
... but the Perfect Predator’s kiss was more than an act of possession. It also denied Becky one of her two airways, Clayton reduced to attempting to breathe through her nose until Erika elected to come up for air. Granted, that worked both ways--but Eisenberg had possessed the luxury of taking in one deep breath before launching this erotic assault, resulting in her need to replenish her lungs coming considerably past the point where the Army Brat needed the same.
And it also meant that she needed a much smaller gasp to top off than Clayton did, before her mouth claimed Becky’s again.
Within a few seconds of the second liplock, Becky’s hands began to slip from around her forearms...
... and her arms began to slide down Erika’s hips...
... Clayton’s eyes started to roll back in her head...
... and the Army of One Hot Chick’s noggin lolled backward, her neck losing tension...
Feeling the Army Brat finally slacken, Eisenberg released her lip lock, inhaling deeply with a sharp hike of her bosom and, somehow, TRIPPLED own her devastating embrace, the Curvaceous Carnivore perhaps cementing her Bearhug as the most brutal in FAWN as, with a hollow gasp from Becky, something in Hardbodies back audibly POPPED! Clayton slumped, all but ragdolled within Eisenberg’s increasingly victorious grasp, the blonde shaking out the unwillingly submissive brunette with sharp, unkind jostles.
With the peepers of the Army of One Hot Chick half fluttered, the increasingly concerned Official stepped forward to check her well being, eager to end the contest before Erika felt the need to more permanently cement her likely victory. Eisenberg wasn’t ready, the blonde releasing her hold and, before Becky could topple, she pulled the brunette forwards and secured her half conscience noggin between her flexing thighs, unable to resist a quick squeeze.
The Howling Commandos protested, but she didn’t listen, already in motion as she leaned over and wrapped her arms about her most powerful rival’s tenderized midriff. With one final heave of effort, the German had at least one last statement to make, muscling the Amazonian American skywards for the Silencer!!
THE SILENCER: @1:15
www.youtube.com/watch?v=bevdRipdhY8
Clayton settled into a seat astride her opponent’s shoulder, the brunette’s arms windmilling for the second or so that she was allowed to stay on that towering perch. But then, the Curvaceous Carnivore reversed course, sending Becky’s body swinging back toward the canvas with a MASSIVE swing...
... but if only Eisenberg had allowed her to hit the mat.
Erika hopped off the mat--not very far, just enough to allow her to tuck her knees toward her chest, and put them directly in the path of Becky Clayton’s descent. Eisenberg’s back hit the canvas a fraction of a second before the Army of One Hot Chick’s spine was BLASTED by the German’s knees. For a move called the Silencer, it failed to live up to its name at first, Clayton offering a chilling--and, for her Howling Commandos, heart-wrenching--scream... but by the time Clayton toppled off those bony joints, the brunette was well and truly muted.
And her body was now utterly limp, gathering in a face down heap off Eisenberg’s right side, the occasional tiny spasm the only thing indicating ANY life remained in her.
Consciousness was another matter...
The FAWNatics fully expected a pinfall to follow, they yearned for it in fact, if only to allow their toppled Heroine the chance to withdraw and fight another day. Eisenberg, however, was in no such hurry, not with her foe slumped between her thighs, not with one of FAWN’s most sought after prizes within reach.
Slowly, methodically, inevitably, the blonde slipped her arms beneath the incredibly strong, lusciously long stems of her defiant rival, ever so slowly tucking them up upwards until the brunettes knees were slung comfortably over the top of the blonde’s powerful, unflinching shoulders. With the lower body of Clayton suitably raised, Becky’s upper body became stacked up on her own shoulders, the back off her noggin resting on the canvas.
Now kneeling herself, Eisenberg smiled, the European finding her features nestled comfortably, temptingly between the American’s warm, shivering and smooth thighs, the near defeated Hardbodies sex tentatively before the blonde’s slips. With her teeth exposed, and with precision born from experience, she tore at the thin fabric concealing her desired prize, swiftly creating a small hole through which could strike.
With one last, deep inhale, Erika plunged her lips and tongue forwards, delving deep and claiming what was hers with insatiable hunger...
Some FAWNatics were horrified. Many were turncoats, now voicing THUNDEROUS approval for Erika Eisenberg and the liberties she was taking. The rest were simply stunned into slack-jawed silence, transfixed and utterly paralyzed as they watched the Perfect Predator have her way with the Army of One Hot Chick...
Count amongst the number of the slack-jawed and hypnotized the referee himself, who stood utterly rooted to his spot in the near corner, unable to properly process what he was watching, or to act on his duties.
Clayton herself had been sent so deeply into oblivion that she initially failed to show any sign of acknowledging the invasion. Gradually, though, Becky began to moan softly, her eyes still sealed shut even as her lips parted...
Eventually, her eyelids started to flutter open...
“Wha...” the brunette started to gasp, her voice catching in response to a particularly skillful flick of the Sadistic Serpent’s tongue. “Wha...” Becky tried again, this time attempting to push her knees off of Erika’s shoulders, but while consciousness might be returning to her body, strength remains an exiled entity. “Whaaaauuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...” the Army Brat tried to ask one more time, until Eisenberg’s tongue turned the vocalization into a moan.
While Becky’s legs remained unable to move, her hands finally managed to move... enough to grip Erika’s thighs. Only instead of pushing the blonde away, they attempted to pull her CLOSER...
Eisenberg accepted the invitation, the final capitulation from Clayton, the Army of One Hot Chick surrendering and, to the shock of the FAWNatics, accepting her submission beneath the Curvaceous Carnivore. The blonde delved deeper, ransacking the breached kingdom, rousing ever greater groans from the brunette, plucking at her sex and driving her towards ecstasy. Slipping her decisive fingers between her rivals firm, quivering thighs, she pried them further open, exposing the cool flesh and forcing the world to watch as THE Becky Clayton was driven ever closer towards, what some would come to call, the most complete defeat of her career...
The Army Brat’s cries gradually became louder, higher pitched, and more pleading. Soon, quite involuntarily, Becky’s upturned hips rocked in time with Erika’s efforts, and Clayton’s fingers plunged tighter into the meat of Eisenberg’s thighs. “Puh... puuuuhhhh... plluuuueeeeeeaaaasssssseeuuuuuuhhhhh...” the brunette panted...
... but please, what? Stop? DON’T stop? Take her beyond the brink? DON’T send her spiraling into the abyss?
Whatever her meaning, it was soon a moot pointed. Clayton’s digits suddenly clutched at Erika’s thighs with white-knuckled intensity, one final cry for the Army Brat enough to indicate to those who could not see what Eisenberg could confirm by taste.
Her opponent had been defeated, completely and utterly. Just not officially.
A matter easily rectified, Eisenberg lifting her spent rival’s softly spasming thighs and tossing them to the canvas, powerful stems shuddering on the mat as their owner continue to pulse with sharp twitches, riding the continuing waves of her orgasm. With the very tip of her tongue, Erika savored the taste of her most thorough victory yet, another Challenger repulsed, and another heroine found wanting.
The Blonde gradually uncurled from her own bliss, coming to straddle the defeated Clayton, the Army of One Hot Chick well and the truly the possession of the Harbinger of Horror for the rest of the evening, the blonde pressing her palms down hard on the other Hardbodies submissive shoulders and awaiting the inevitable.
The Official, after blinking to regain his composure, dropped to the canvas and began counting, Eisenberg barely acknowledging him as her gaze of ice blue bore deep into the deep brown eyes of rival, a promise her twitching lips.
“...mine...”
ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!