Post by alyadmirer on Jan 14, 2016 0:48:45 GMT
The excited FAWNatics begin to quiet as the announcer boomers over the sound system. "Laaaaaaaadies and gentlemen, our next match is a standard contest! First, hailing from Bath County, Kentucky, standing at five feet, four inches and 125 pounds... RUE ANN MACKENNA!"
RUE ANN MACKENNA:
"BURY THEM DEEP" by GHOULTOWN
www.youtube.com/watch?v=P_kn2rtuc4o
As the steel guitar begins to twang, jets blow smoke across the entrance to the FAWN arena. Backlit by lights, the shapely figure of a familiar redneck appears. Rue Ann bursts through the smoke, her hips swaying to the music. It's been a good while since Rue Ann has appeared on FAWN for a fight, not including when she helped her partner-in-crime Trisha Belle beat Selia Brach down after their fight. Fans heckle and boo, but the negativity just seems to make Rue Ann glow. She tosses her hair and blows kisses to the attendees. But as much as they hate her, most of the fans can't help stealing glances at the milky white body she's barely concealed with a tight, tugging singlet cut down to her navel.
Rue Ann hops onto the skirt and raises the ropes. She bends over dramatically, showing her round butt to the catcalling fans, and slides into the ring. Rue Ann struts up the referee and bounces her hefty cleavage against him. "Gonna check me fer weapons, love?" she coos.
The referee clears his throat nervously. "I don't know where you'd hide them in that."
Rue Ann winks, then returns to her corner. She climbs to the top turnbuckle and welcomes the waves of fan hate, letting it wash over her. "It's so good to be home, babies!" she cries. "Mama Rue missed you all!"
SUNNI MASTERS:
"POT KETTLE BLACK" by TILLY AND THE WALL
www.youtube.com/watch?v=E7HjBr_QMXI
After a moment the sound system fades again, only to boom to life again with a familiar stomping beat. Tilly and the Wall's "Pot Kettle Black" garners a cheer from the crowd as the announcer continues, "And her opponent, hailing from San Francisco, California, standing at 5 foot 4 inches and weighing in at 120 pounds, SUNNI MASTERS. The fans cheer again as Masters ducks out from behind the curtain, only to take a few running steps down the ramp before going into a series of handsprings and cartwheels that stylishly get Sunni down to the ring. The former gymnast ends in a perfect olympic style dismount pose, only to break into a smile and a giggle when she eyes a sign in the crowd doused in glitter reading, "We missed you Sunni!" Masters having been away from the inside of a FAWN ring as long as Rue has. After another moment, the cheerleader girl grabs the top rope and all but slingshots herself into the ring, making a few triumphant poses to more cheers. "Its good to be back, she says confidently to herself as she takes her corner.
Rue Ann leans out of the ring and waves over an attendant. "Would you be a sweetie and grab me a mic?" The young woman seems nervous but does as requested, handing a live microphone to the Kentucky nightmare. Rue pats her head playfully and returns to the ring.
"Hello, all!" she coos. The fan boo accordingly and Rue's smile widens. "I miss y'all, too. I don't know if y'all saw, but way back in January of 2015, Gladiatrix made me Rookie of the Year!" This time, the fan disgust is deafening. Rue closes her eyes and relishes the moment. "So y'all got that issue! Great! Y'all come by after the show and I'll sign it for ya! I'll even help y'all read the words since I'm guessin' the average FAWNatic ain't had much schoolin'!"
Rue looks towards her opponent. "Speakin' of schoolin'! Sunni Masters, look at you! Ain't you adorable! All perky and bouncy, like you're ready for cheer practice! And you have reasons to be proud. You're undefeated here!" The fans cheer this on, but Rue Ann plows through. "You won both your matches so far. You beat up a goth pixie who's just one carvin' of 'Mama Didn't Love Me" in her arm away from being a Hot Topic manager and, somehow, you beat Serena Muir." The fans pop. Rue looks puzzeled. "Now, that one surprised me. You plantin' Siouxsie Sioux, who cares? Garbage overtakes garbage all the time. But Muir?"
MacKenna turns and paces. "I can't figure it beyond you got some good luck goin'! Musta wished on a star or givin' a leprechaun a handy under the rainbow to get a win. Personally," Rue's lips curl with cruel delight, "I'd have wished for an adult woman's body so people wouldn't mistake me for a twelve year old boy were I you, but hey - everyone makes choices."
Rue Ann backs into her corner as she finishes. "Whatever it was, Sunni, I hope you remembered to throw that coin in the wishing well for another ring miracle, 'cuz if you didn't? Well, Trixie might have to cede the nickname 'Jinx' to you. Your luck's gonna run out tonight, bitch." Rue Ann tosses the mic over her shoulder. It clatters to the ground, sending a screeching, blaring sound through the speakers making almost the entire arena cover their ears. Her eyes never leaving Sunni, she makes a simple, "Come at me" motion.
Sunni wants to respond, but everyone she's talked to at FAWN who would bother giving her any advice told her not to engage in trash talk, especially if it stings, so your opponent doesn't know they can get under your skin. The California girl just drops the smile and comes from her corner, returning the "Come at me" gesture to Rue. The two women then circle in slowly until they finally meet at center ring. Rue raises her hands up, offering up a test of strength. Sunni confidently takes up McKenna's hand, their grips matching in intensity, but unfortunately for the usually bubbly gymnast, she is no match for Rue's upper body strength and soon her arms wrists and elbows start bending under the strain. Masters isn't willing to give up at that, however, and changes tactics, the gymnast rolling back and putting her feet up, hoping to surprise Rue with a mid-ring monkey flip to lay the southern girl out early.
Sunni tosses Rue Ann masterfully, but the hillbilly lands on her feet in what would be a perfect dismount. Before MacKenna can run her mouth, Sunni is up and launches a kick, both her feet planting into Rue Ann's chest. While her maximum padding absorbs most of the pain from the kick, Rue Ann is knocked off balance and falls backwards. The fans rise to their feet at Sunni's aggressive start. The Kentucky nightmare is barely on her feet before Sunni sends a kick to her ribs that shoves her back to a corner.
As MacKenna clears her cobwebs in the corner, Sunni showboats a little. She raises her elbow and pats it, then cartwheels towards Rue to show everyone how a gymnast slams an elbow into her opponent.
Master's elbow connects smoothly and fully with the somewhat flustered Kentuckian, Sunni's joint making contact dead center in the cleavage of Rue's singlet, bone meeting bone as the elbow slams into MacKenna's sternum, the impact and pain driving the air from the hillbilly girl with a less than flattering high pitched screaming grunt. Sunni decides to keep up the pressure, quickly walking to the opposite corner and rushing back to the redhead with a series of fast handspring flips that lead into Masters throwing herself into the corner, her rump meeting the southern girl's midsection in a modified splash. Rue can barely slump into the corner before the former cheerleader lifts her chin to make sure the hillbilly girl makes eye contact with her as she says, "I'm sorry if you were expecting an easy fight, MacKenna, but it looks like you're not much without your friend to tell you when to sit and roll over." The Californian finally showing she's comfortable in FAWN with a little bit of catty trash talk. Then Masters throws a knee, then a boot into Rue's abs to keep her complacent.
The gymnast's knee bites into Rue's gut and folds her. Masters cinches on a headlock and pulls the redhead from the corner. With a wave to the cheering fans, Sunni brings Rue to the mat with a DDT. The ring quakes with the impact. Sunni rolls Rue onto her back for a count.
ON--
The referee doesn't even get his hand to canvas before MacKenna launches Sunni off her with a strong thrust. Sunni blinks as she assesses what just happened, realizing the splayed out jerk hoisted and tossed her a good two or three feet away. The referee looks at Sunni.
"No count!"
Sunni's nose crinkles up. "Not even one?" She felt a tiny crack run up her pride. After all that, and not even....
Sunni rises and returns to the mountain girl. She lifts up Rue's leg while raising her own elbow. Time to soften her up a bit more, Masters thinks as she readies an elbow drop to the midsection.
Sunni drops the elbow straight into Rue's navel, the redhead sitting up slightly with a loud "OOOMPH!" as the air is forced from her body, so much so that MacKenna stays seated, her arms encircling her sore tummy. Masters tries to keep her composure and momentum, scrambling to her feet before sending a boot up into a high kick that slams into the Kentuckian's chin, laying Rue out again, the Southern girl's arms splaying out wide from the impact. The California native then cartwheel's to the ropes, impressing the crowd yet again with her agility and finesse as she contacts the ropes in mid-handstand, bounces back into a twirl, showing off her gymnastic prowess with one of the flashiest splashes FAWN may have ever seen, her body aimed to slam down hard across Rue's stomach and chest.
It truly is an amazing arc Sunni makes, almost art, except for the ending where two bare feet prop up, catch her, and propel her to the middle of the ring. Ever the gymnast, Sunni manages to land on her feet. Instinctively, she bounces up, arms outstretched, like a dismount from the pommel horse. However, that provides her entire back as a target and Rue, now up and about, is all too happy to take advantage. The sound of Rue's knuckles cracking across the back of Sunni's skull is too much for those in the front row, many of whom look away. As the young rookie stumbles forward, the hillbilly menaces reaches forward and snatches for meat.
Sunni yelps as MacKenna's talons sink into her back, clawing right where her kidneys are. Rue seems to glow as she grinds the muscle and flesh she's clutching, sending pain throughout Masters's body. Rue yanks up, forcing the petite woman up to her nimble toes, and drives a knee into Sunni's tailbone, just before shoving Sunni to canvas. As Sunni falls flat on her face, MacKenna steps in front of her, steps on her hair, and bends down to take her wrists.
Sunni is left groaning after the turnaround MacKenna managed, but that noise elevates into screams as the Kentuckian pulls firmly on both wrists, twisting Masters' arms uncomfortably while simultaneously pulling on the gymnast's hair she's standing on. The ref butts in immediately. "Rue, you know the rules. You've gotta lay off the hair." all while Sunni continues to squirm and kick the mat in pain and frustration.
“I'm sorry,” Rue barks loudly. “She's beaten on me so cruelly, I fear my ears are pounding and I didn't catch that!”
“HAIR!” the zebra barks again.
“Not that ear,” Rue yells again. “My other ear's the good one!” She wrenches back on Sunni's arm. The official, realizing Rue's going to milk her “deafness” as long as possible, he begins to count. At three, Rue releases and stomps on the back of Sunni's head, grinding her nose into the mat with the ball of her foot.
“Where's all that lip now, Sunni?” Rue purrs. “C'mon, you talk so big!” Rue walks around her prone foe and straddles her, facing the back of Sunni's head. She reaches down, grabs Sunni's boots and, holds them at her side and keeps them there with her elbows. She bends down again, grabbing for Sunni's wrists. “Let's see if you scream as big as you talk.”
Sunni lets out another scream as she's suspended above the mat by Rue, all of the California girl's weight straining her wrists, shoulders and back while the redhead's lock also stretches her legs into an uncomfortable position. The ref steps in again, at first checking to make sure the hold is clean, then leaning in to check on Masters. Rue giggles, "Come on, girl. Tell the man what we all want to hear." Tears of pain and frustration begin to well up in Sunni's eyes, but she shakes her head, "No! No! No!" she repeats intensely to the posed question, even with no immediately available avenue of escape presenting itself.
“This one's got fight!” Rue barks as she releases the swing. “I love fight!... I especially love beating it out of 'em.” The Kentucky girl reaches down, shoves her right hand's fingers into Sunni's mouth, and clamps with a mandible claw. MacKenna yanks Sunni up, pulling her lower jaw like a handle on a pail, and wrenches her head around. Rue beings to spin, twirling Sunni around her like a panicking moon, and releases her. Masters is slung into a corner, her shoulder catching the post between turnbuckles. As she slumps down, Rue Ann runs up behind her and jumps onto the back of her knees.
The brunette's head rears back and lets forth a stream of obscenities many are shocked such an angelic looking fighter would know, although she seems to wince from saying them as much from the pain. Still standing on the back of Sunni's knees, Rue reaches forward and cups a hand under Masters's chin. She bends Sunni backwards, raising her left foot and placing it into the small of the gymnast's back. “That's it,” Rue says. “Limber that mouth up. I've got plans for it.” She then pulls back tighter, preparing to release Sunni's chin and slam her face straight into the ringpost ahead.
Masters' face swings forward, but is able to raise her arms in a basic instinctual self preservation method to lessen the impact. Sunni's face still meets the turnbuckle with less than comforting impact though, and as the California girl attempts to push herself away from the corner her once extensive string of curses is replaced with one loud expletive, "AHH, FUCK." she screams, her nose and forehead sore from meeting the turnbuckle.
Sore though she may be, Sunni shows the spirit expected from a former cheerleader when Rue grabs he by her hair to drag her from the corner. Not even thinking of her image or place in FAWN, Masters surprises everyone in the arena, her Kentuckian opponent included, when she swings around and delivers a perfect low blow between MacKenna's thighs.
The thing about gymnasts is, while they're lean and muscular all over, their legs are nothing but pure power. Sunni's legs, despite her petite seeming frame, is no different. The impact of Sunni's toe biting deep into her womanhood makes Rue's vision momentarily black out. Her eyes cross as MacKenna is lifted from her feet. When her soles touch down, MacKenna's knees wobble before she collapses to them. Her lips tremble to form the threats she wants to spew. “Over... will strip... make you... hand puppet.”
Sunni sneers, righteous rage flaming behind her eyes. Masters places her hands on Rue's shoulders, flips over her, lands on the mat, and goes for a handstand. Her legs kick up, retract, and then she mule-kicks Rue in the back of the skull. The redhead flies flat, face down, and the fans couldn't be more excited. Their cheers suddenly hit Sunni, and she's overcome with pride for the moment. They're cheering for me, she thinks. I did something they love. The urge to please them is overwhelming. If they like that, she ponders, they'll love this.
Sunni grabs Rue's right leg and pulls it back as far as the joint will allow. She then drops to her butt on the back of Rue's head, sliding her own legs under Rue's throat and locking at the ankles. Sunni raises her free hand, stretching her fingers in a theatrical fashion, as if she's a magician warming up, and slaps a crotch claw on Rue. The hillbilly bellows under her as the gymnast's nimble digits claw and maul her womanhood through sheer fabric over the referee's protests.
“Like this?” Sunni giggles as she yanks her handful side to side. “You probably do. Trash like you likes it rough. When I'm done, though, your next litter of white trash pups will have to be delivered cesarean.”
“ARROGANT, CLASSIST BITCH!” Rue Ann roars beneath her. The venom in her voice catches Sunni off guard, but the more surprising moment is Rue palming the mat and beginning to yank her captured stem straight, shaking Sunni from her roost. Panic grips the rookie – she hadn't considered this. She hops and races across the ring. While Rue Ann fumes and stands, Sunni charges her for a flying neckscissor.
The two women seem almost identical in attitude now, both experiencing tunnel vision, focusing fully on the other girl in the ring. The neckscissors latch on tight, bringing the two to the mat. But with all the adrenaline running through both women, they find it easy to ignore the bumps and bruises dealt out so far and focus on the now. MacKenna swiftly latches onto the nearest rope with her right hand, the ref demanding a release of the hold less than a second or two after the scissors is applied.
Sunni tightens the scissors, so single-minded she doesn't hear the demands of the referee. She looks up and sees him counting. “Wait, what's going on?” The distraction is all Rue Ann needs to drive a fist into Sunni's belly. Masters yelps and pulls away, unhooking her neck scissors.
Both women scramble to their feet and latch onto each other. Sunni backhands Rue across her freckled face first, then Rue Ann returns fire with an open-palm between the eyes. Sunni falters backwards and the Kentucky menace drives two first down, each meeting the her shoulders. Masters winces but returns a knife edge chop across the buxom ginger's chest, shaking what her mother more-than-generously gave her. The flurry of hits continue until each fighter realizes they're taking as much pain as their giving. As if they're cinched, both women race to the ropes behind them and whip themselves at each other for clotheslines. Both arms connent. Both women spill to the mat on their backs. Both remain motionless as the ref stares in shock.
And the FAWNatics lose their minds.
Sunni and Rue lay still, both laid out like star fish in the ring, nothing but their chests rising and falling in unison with their labored breathing. The ref stands dumbfounded for a moment as the crowd cheers, trying to rouse either woman to consciousness so the match can continue. Finally, with little life shown from the women, the official is forced to start a count for both Rue and Sunni simultaneously. "1!...2!" he starts, the two women finally showing some life as the two roll on the mat, showing signs of both kicking the cobwebs of unconsciousness from their heads.
Sunni is the first to get to her feet. Her body is ravaged with pain. She can feel bruises forming where Rue's meaty hands landed blows. Still, she wobbles towards Rue Ann, kicks her right leg up perfect vertical, and drops the heel of her boot on the back of Rue's neck. The Kentucky brute grunts but stays on all fours. She raises the leg again and, once more, drops it on Rue's back. Again, a grunt but nothing else. Once more she raises her leg, but this time Rue bolts to her feet and kick the foot Sunni's balance on from under her. As Masters falls forwards, MacKenna grabs her by the hair and slings her in the opposite direction.
Sunni hits the mat and rolls to her back, prepping to hop up. Rue Ann has other plans and leaps atop her. Masters scratches and pushes to get the redhead off her but Rue Ann begins pounding on Sunni's ribs, wailing on them. Each hit feels like it's going to burst through bone. The referee does his best to interrupt, yelling at Rue about closed fists. Sunni finally manages to pull her legs up and push MacKenna off of her. The ginger bull only snorts with fury and rushes again, but Sunni greats her with a spinning kick towards the cheek.
The spin kick hits with full force, heel meeting cheek with a harsh THWACK! Rue's eyes roll back into her skull, the redhead's eyelids fluttering over white globes as she goes limp and hits the mat hard with the opposite cheek, arms limp at her sides. The FAWNatics go crazy. Not only did the fan favorite just put an up and coming bad girl down, she put her down HARD. Once again, the ref is dumbfounded, but not nearly as much as Sunni Masters herself. After an adrenaline fueled, angry huff, her aggressive stance drops, she realizes whats happened, and she explodes with energy, all but ignoring her downed opponent to leap up onto the second rope in one corner, raising an arm triumphantly to thunderous cheers. The ref tries to get the California Girl's attention refocused on the still unfinished match, but its all but pointless now, the bubbly west coast girl is lost in the moment and rushes to the opposite corner, taking a second victory pose for the fans.
Rue rises, shaken at first, but slowly her face begins to burn as crimson as her hair. She eyes the showboating Masters, storms over to the corner. Taking advantage of Sunni standing on the second ropes, legs spread, Rue drives an uppercut where it counts. Sunni's cheers immediately switch to wails of shock and agony. Before she can react, MacKenna wraps arms around Sunni's legs and suplexes her. The gymnast is dumped backwards to the mat, landing on her neck and shoulders.
Rue rights herself up, turns around, stomps over Sunni's body, and then lifts her up by her hair. Again, Rue Ann grips Sunni from behind, this time in a tight bearhug. This is the first time Sunni realizes how much upper body strength the hillbilly has. She can barely breathe as Rue crushes her into her bosom. Then, again, a suplex. Sunni crashes to the mat, this time the back her her skull getting impact. Repeat – Rue stands, walks up Sunni's body – making sure to pound her bare feet into her fallen prey – pulls her up by her hair, bearhug, suplex. With each impact, the FAWNatics cry out in horror and rage. And, with each impact, Sunni feels her body giving in a little more to pain. When the next suplex comes, Sunni feels like her bones have melted. As she lays on the mat, a crumpled mess, she feels the mat tremble under Rue's coming steps. Rue grabs her under the jawline. “Okay, Sunni, you wanted to play with the big girls. Time for big girl games.” Rue pulls Sunni of for a Michinoku Driver.
MICHINOKU DRIVER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=mrkRmkc_3HU
Sunni is all but putty in Rue's hands as she lifts and shifts the California girl in her grip for the maneuver. At the last second, MacKenna looks out at the crowd and shouts, more to the FAWNattics than to the now senseless gymnast in her hands, "You wanted into the big leagues. Well, welcome to FAWN, bitch!" The Kentucky girl then mercilessly goes through with the Michinoku Driver, slamming Masters to the mat as she sits out, Sunni's full weight slamming to the mat like a sack of potatoes. Rue hooks the former gymnast's muscular leg and the ref slides in for a count. "1!... 2!..." But suddenly Rue drops the pin, ignoring the ref's questioning of her sanity and instead wagging her finger in a "No no no." gesture to the fans. "That's too good for her. I'm going to break this bitch."
Rue rises and grabs Sunni's throat, squeezing it just enough to let the gymnast she could do real damage if she wanted to. “Where should we begin?” Rue growls. Her deep twangy accent practically vanishes and it's as if Sunni's speaking to another woman. “Your deplorable need to drop to horrible stereotypes based off regional economic hardships? Your showboating theatrics that prove you're more interested in adoration than competition? Oh, I know.” Rue's other claw latches onto Sunni's crotch, her fingers probing and rubbing. Masters's eyes grow wide as MacKenna continues. “Let's start with a lesson in 'What Goes Around, Comes Around.'”
An open palm thrusts into Sunni's midsection. Masters folds and Rue ducks under her. MacKenna lifts Sunni up on her shoulders in a fireman's carry. “You wanna play dirty,” the mountain girl giggles, “you get treated dirty.” On cue, Sunni feels the talon dive between her thighs and begin working her over in her most private of privates. Her eyes bulge and water as Rue alternates between rubbing and clutching and twisting. “Gonna ask me to stop?”
“Fuck... you... whore,” Sunni stammers.
“Those ain't the magic words,” Rue replies, her twang returning. “Guess we got a lotta work to do.” Rue lifts Sunni up and drops her over her knee in a gutbuster. Wind rushes from her body and she just wants to curl into a ball, but MacKenna holds her in place, pushing her head down with one hand while the other continues its probing, humiliating torture.
“Such a naughty girl,” Rue chimes. “I think I'm gonna strip you down and parade you around. Teach you some humility. But first...” The redhead pull the seat of Sunni's one piece up, revealing cheeks. “First, Mama spank.” Rue draws a hand back.
Sunni is spent, she squirms in her position, but can't muster much resistance. MacKenna gleefully swats the Californian's exposed cheeks once, twice, three times and doesn't stop their. Master's face blushes a deep red, more with bruised ego than truly emotionally broken. However, by the time Rue lands the 5th slap on her ass, Sunni's face goes ghostly pale as she realizes MacKenna's intentions. If the Kentuckian acts anything like she has in the past, especially when accompanying her mentor Trisha Belle, then this spanking session is mere foreplay, and the former gymnast is in some real danger.
Putting two and two together, Sunni tries to undercut what will inevitably turn into a torture scene in the ring, speaking up, "Alright, I gi-UGH!" her surrender cut off by the wily MacKenna slamming an elbow between her shoulder blades. "No you don't" she whispers sadistically into Masters' ear, "This ends when I say so, not you." And with that Rue rolls her off her knee to the mat.
The referee leans in. “Did you submit, Sunni?”
Rue shoves her face into the ref's. “Did you HEAR her say she did? NO!” MacKenna stands, dragging Sunni by her main, grabs her under the throat, turns, and wrecks Masters with an Inverted Headlock Backbreaker.
INVERTED HEADLOCK BACKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=AF3cgmCnhRU
The fans deflate as Sunni rolls onther her side. Rue just gets up, kicks the gymnast onto her back, and stands on her chest. Rue stretches out her bare toes and begins pinching Sunni's breasts with them. “I've got pretty versatile feel. Neat, huh?” Sunni only replies in a howl. Rue's nose scrunches up in disapproval. “Hmmph. Most people think it's cool.”
MacKenna steps off Sunni and kicks the downed woman onto her stomach. Squatting over Masters, she reaches under her chin once more and pulls the battered fan favorite back into a camel clutch. The hands slip down casually, pinching on Sunni's throat but making sure not to choke – just make it hard to do more than gargle. Sunni offers no fight. She just bends. As a gymnast, she can bend backwards pretty far. Rue knows this and opt to pull her back even further.
As Sunni twitches and mewls, Rue whispers to her. “Did you know the ring attendants saw you cry after your match with the goth loser?” At first, Sunni is confused. Then she remembers. The blush returns. “She's a soft touch – probably wants to dive into your goods. I heard how she helped you cover. But, the people around here? P.A.s, ring attendants? They're gossips. They know everyone's business. Most people don't listen.” Rue pulls back harder and, as the ref checks for choking or submission, giggles like a demonic doll does in a horror movie. “You cried, Sunni. You're a grown woman who accidentally won a match and you cried.”
Sunni felt emotion welling up. She tried to reply but only mumbled sounds. Rue continued. “All these fans are cheering for you because they think you're a wrestler. They think you're somehow able to win on your own merit. Will you cry when they see you can't? When they see you're a fraud? Like I know you're a fraud?”
Rue yanked Sunni back so hard she heard bones pop. All the muscles in Masters's abdomen burned as they surpassed their limits many times over. Sunni felt warm, wet lips against her ear. “Like, deep down, YOU know you're a fraud?”
The tears well up in Sunni's eyes, a combination of frustration, anger, and embarrassment, as she does the only thing her body has strength left to do, squirm. The ref asks for a submission and Masters answers both the official and Rue's insinuation with a series of sobbing negatives, "No! NO! Nooo." The third and final response trails off into heaving sobs. The FAWNattics deflate further, not knowing what was said, but not needing to be detectives to be able to see that Rue has gotten under Sunni's skin. For the fans, this match isn't fun to watch anymore, they turn fully on MacKenna, Masters taking very little solace in the fact that the crowd remains fully on her side.
The referee's heart breaks at the display. “Come on, Rue. End this.” He attempts to make it sound like an order but it comes off as a plea.
“I don't HAVE to end it,” Rue shoots back coldly. “How much time's left?”
“Like, four minutes,” the zebra sighs.
“Sounds like I've got three minutes, fifty-seven seconds of fun ahead.” It's just then Rue notices the tears. “Oh! Oh, this is good.” She finally releases the hold and all of Sunni's muscles snap back in place. MacKenna takes her by the scruff of the neck and drags her to the side of the ring where a camera man stands at the ready. Rue wraps an arm under Sunni's head, bracing it behind in a sleeper hold, but never applying the full pressure to end things. Instead, she holds the woman in place and calls to the camera man. “Here's your shot, man. Take it in.”
Sure enough, the camera man focuses his lense on Sunni's face. There are flashes of cameras and phones behind him, including the Gladiatrix photographer. In her ear, Sunni hears Rue. “It's all being documented. Look up at the jumbotron.” Sunni doesn't want to, but her eyes gravitate up. Above them, in screens all around the arena, bigger than life – Sunni's puffy, tear-stained eyes and cheeks. Battle weary. Tired. Drained.
“Please,” Sunni says quietly. “Please... just stop.”
Rue tightens the hold finally and Sunni feels the full pressure of the sleeper. “I'll stop,” Rue says, “when you leave FAWN. When you give up and quit. Or... maybe I won't. Maybe I'll keep you as a toy. I'll play with you every night.” There was a new evil in Rue's voice, one Sunni hadn't heard before. “I'll brush your hair, dress you, undress you, and--”
Rue releases the hold and hoists her above her head in a gorilla press. Parading her around, she giggles.” “And break you over and over.”
With that, Rue drops the broken Californian over her knee in a nasty backbreaker that makes the whole crowd wince with an audible "OHHH!" Sunni merely flops to the mat, tears still streaking her cheeks, but her body limp. Whether the usually perky gymnast is out cold or just emotionally drained, no one can tell, that is until MacKenna steps forward and sends a swift kick to Masters' ribs, forcing the petite girl to let out a guttural moan "OMPH!"
Sunni doesn't move being the force of the impact. Rue bends down and slaps her gently across the face. “Wakey-wakey, eggs and bakey. No napping, sugar. We got people to entertain.”
MacKenna scoops the California dream girl up like a sack of potatoes and takes her to a corner where she hangs Sunni in a Tree of Woe. At this point, the boos and jeers are almost deafening and FAWN security on the arena floor is actually doubling for fear of angy attendees jumping the barricade and rushing the ring. Sunni hangs, spent. Rue Ann rubs her strong thighs. “You are a li'l treat, ain't ya?” She looks down. “You were a cheerleader, right? I bet your raised morale for the home team, huh? Spreadin' your legs so much musta really helped doing the splits.” If the words had come earlier in the match they would have had weight, but Sunni's humiliation had long since overloaded. The tears now ran down her forehead as she stared into the distance. Then a new sensation.
She felt lips on her thigh, followed by a gentle lick.
This change in tactics was not unnoticed by the FAWNatics. While most were still disgusted, many let out woos and cheers as the shapely ginger seemed to take an entirely different interest in Sunni. Rue looks down and wrinkles her nose playfully. “You don't like? I can be gentle.” Her fingertips trace Sunni's body, nails glancing down her side. “I just assumed, since you ran with Decker, you had... interests. And you seemed really into parts of me.
“You were kinda mean to 'em, though,” Rue said with a pout. Slowly, she lowered her crotch into Sunni's face. “Kiss it better?” She lowers her undercarriage onto Sunni's face, who desperately tries to pull away, but the turnbuckles give her no escape. More fans begin to hoot at the image of one very attractive woman grinding on another, but Rue suddenly stops and pulls away. “Nothing?”
Sunni blinks and says, in a weary voice, “I think you might be crazy.”
Rue only grins as she scampers up the ropes, perches on top of the ringpost. “Just as well,” she laughs. “After all, white trash like me, we only like it rough!” And with that, she drops a Tree of Woe Knee Drop.
TREE OF WOE KNEE DROP:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=HkVz8rew3dg
Sunni's body is driven hard into the mat, her mass the consistency of jelly as her dead weight topples to a face down position. Rue's smile remains permanently spread across her face, "You think I'm done, but I'm just starting to have some real fun." she says, only loud enough for Masters to hear, if she were at all aware. MacKenna then drags the limp Californian into her lap and goes about stripping down the gymnast by sliding the straps of her singlet off her shoulders and rolling the lycra down beneath her navel, exposing the perfectly toned athlete's physique underneath. The usually lustful FAWNattics boo in droves, not wanting to see the baby face Sunni so thoroughly trounced. MacKenna responds with a mocking sigh, "Fine, fair is fair." The Kentucky girl then rolls the straps of her own singlet off, stripping down to her own belly button to stay on an even playing field, a mocking sort of sportsmanship shown by Rue with her victim.
Again, Rue tries to slap Sunni to some semblance of awake. Groggily she looks up. “Good news,” Rue chirps. “I'm going to pin you.” She drops the naked woman to the mat and slowly, methodically, grazes her half-naked body up Sunni's. The camera flashes from the crowd is almost blinding. Finally, she rests her large breasts on top of Sunni's and goes for a grapevine pin.
ONE....
TWO...
THR--
Rue pulls Sunni up.
Bleary eyed, Sunni looks up at Rue. “Why?” she whimpers.
Rue shrugs. “Just felt wrong.”
“ONE MINUTE!” the announcer booms over the sound system. “ONE MINUTE REMAINING!”
Rue looks over at the ringpost. “I know why!” She drags Sunni to the corner and leaves her there, spread eagle. Rue climbs the ringpost to the top, turns, and prepares to leap onto Sunni for her dreaded finisher – the Kentucky Meat Shower.
Sunni lays on the mat, completely spent. As Rue goes airborne she tries to force her battered body to move out of the line of fire, but the match has taken a bigger toll on her muscles than she'd care to admit, she can't move at all, and is left to take the full impact of the dreaded finisher. Rue's rump lands cleanly on Master's bruised abs, a gush of air forces its way out through the California Dream girl's mouth and nose in a desperate, yelping "OOFF!", and with that Sunni's eyes begin to flutter heavily, the match finally getting to her. She's exhausted, but Rue won't leave it at that. Instead, MacKenna finishes her maneuver, laying atop her victim and forcing Sunni's tear stained face between her breasts. Normally Rue's victims show one last jolt of energy in their struggles to breathe, but Masters' body just squirms and shifts weakly under the Kentucky girl, boots barely scuffing the mat, hands only digging palms into the canvas.
Again, the announcer's voice booms. “THIS MATCH WILL END IN FIFTEEN SECONDS!”
Rue pulls her breasts off Sunni's now oily face, the tears mostly dried up. “Golly, city girl! Guess I better pin ya fast!”
Rue stands, grabs Sunni's ankles, and rolls her up in a pin, curling her like a shrimp. To the delight of some, Rue's sure to grind her barely covered womanhood. The exhaustion and pain from the beating leading to this makes Sunni unable to push away. Instead, she accepts the loss before her – her first in FAWN.
The referee slaps a count in time with the literal last three seconds of the match as they're announced over the speakers.
ONE...
TWO...
But “Three” never came. Instead, a “ONE... ZERO!” followed by a bell.At the last second, Rue releases Sunni's legs and pulls her up. The ref stares, slackjawed. There's a moment of confusion as he turns to the timekeepers, looks back, shrugs, and motions that there's no winner.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this match has reached its time limit,” the announcer booms, “and there is NO winner!”
Sunni stares up into Rue's eyes. “Why?” is all she can manage.
“Cuz, li'l darling, if I win, they'll just reverse the decision for everything I'm gonna do to you post match. But if neither of us win, I get all my fun--”
The genius of it hits Sunni. “And I get nothing,” she mutters. Sharp stinging wakens her up and Rue grabs the handfuls of each of her breasts and pulls her closer.
“Oh, no, li'l love,” Rue hisses, licking her lips, “you're getting everything.”
TRIXIE “JINX” DECKER:
Without a second thought, Rue drops to the mat, easily dragging the weakened Californian with her, wrapping thighs around Sunni's head, neck and shoulder to lock the usually chipper cheerleader into a Triangle Choke. "Now, come on, lets see some more of those tears, baby girl," she chides Masters as she puts the pressure on. But then, suddenly, the curtain at the top of the ramp bursts open. Trixie Decker sprinting down the ramp. It all happens so fast, only a few select fans realize whats going on before Trixie slides into the ring under the bottom rope. The goth girl immediately throws a stomp into the redhead's shoulder, then her chest, forcing Rue to break the hold on Sunni.
Rue releases Sunni and rolls away before looking up to her attacker. When MacKenna realizes who it is, she laughs. "You came down here all on your lonesome, li'l girl?" The shapely villain cups her breasts and blows a kiss. "Was all this a little too--" She never finishes the taunt. Trixie soars a right into Rue's mouth, shoving her back. It's immediately followed by a left right into the nose. Rue crawls away, clutching her face and cursing.
Trixie bends down and grabs onto Sunni. "Come on, hon. We've gotta get you out of here."
Sunni looks up at Trixie and, once more, the tears begin to well up. "I can't...." Her tiny voice trails off.
"Oh, HELL, NO!" Rue bellows as she stands. "I am not done with her OR you!" Rue pops her neck. "When I'm done here, I'm draggin' you both home as my new toys."
The referee steps between. "Rue, the match is over!"
"This is FAWN," Rue snips. "The match isn't over until the fans get bread and circus. And what are you gonna do? Reverse the draw?" The official's jaw hung. He knew FAWN security was, by policy, slow to respond.
Trixie gently places Sunni in the corner, never looking away from Rue. "You're tired and I'm fresh. You proved your point - you're an asshole and a bully."
"That's just what losers call winners," Rue Ann laughs as she bolts and slams into the Michigan goth. MacKenna scoops Trixie up into an extra-tight bearhug. She grinds the petite Jinx into her body. "Havin' fun yet?" Rue snarks.
"Loads," Trixie says with a grunt. Decker hauls back and punches Rue on one side of her temple, then the other. MacKenna stumbles but holds the hug, so Trixie takes a hold of her silky red tresses, rips Rue's head back, and punches her in the throat. That does is. Rue releases her. Trixie does not return the favor and instead jumps on and snakes around Rue for her finisher, Jinxed!
JINXED!
www.youtube.com/watch?v=hjYRhjepPW4
Instantly Rue realizes she'd underestimated Trixie's capability and her own exhaustion. As the Kentuckian drops to a knee, the referee checks for submission.
"It's not a match!" Trixie barks at him. She looks over at Sunni. "GO! Get out of here now! This isn't your problem."
The wrecked Californian only looks back at her, heaving and broken, and stays motionless. Trixie is so distracted by her calls to Sunni she doesn't realize the fans are calling warnings to her.
TRISHA BELLE:
CLANG! A deafening chair shot rings out as a steel chair slams into Trixie's skull. The goth girl's body drops from the hold she had applied to a crumpled mass on the mat. Rue looks up, finally getting her breath back and moving her neck again to see that Trisha Belle now stands in the ring, having gotten to the ring amongst all the confusion with Trixie. "Well, you took your sweet time." Rue jokes. The Minnesotan cracks a devilish smile that runs a chill down most people's spine, but only gets MacKenna smiling likewise. Then Belle grabs a fistful of Trixie's hair, deciding to not give the goth any time to realize what hit her.
Rue picks up the steel chair from Belle and smiles at Trixie. As the Jinx's eyes begin to focus, Rue swings the chair and catches her on the side of her head. Trixie goes limp, hanging by the hair Trisha's clutching.
“I don't think I've—” Belle pauses, “-- we've had this one yet. We're just working our way through the losers, aren't we?” The Minnesota Mountain eyes the prize. “I guess we better work fast before the rest show up.”
“If the rest show up soon,” Rue chirps, “the stage hands and production assistants I paid to 'accidentally' make sure certain people can't get out of the locker room owe me a refund.” Rue Ann sizes up Trixie, who is valiantly trying to focus. She glances back at Sunni, still leaning against the ringpost. “Boo, can I borrow your new doll for JUST a second? I promise I'll give her back.”
Belle looks uncertain, like a pitbull wanting to protect the raw steak it was just handed, but slowly transfers ownership of Trixie to her tiny partner-in-crime. Rue slings Trixie into the corner, colliding her with Sunni. The hurl is followed by the redneck slamming her body into both of them, sandwiching Trixie between herself and Sunni. She slowly shoves Trixie's face down into Sunni's cleavage before crushing her own chest against the back of the Flint native's head. Trixie begins to squirm but Rue grabs her wrists and cranks her arms back.
“Fight me,” Rue Ann demands of Sunni. “Just TRY to push back and I'll let you both go.” The fans cry for Sunni to fight while, behind Rue, Trisha tenses at the mere idea of losing her new plaything. “She's getting smothered out against you. I know you can feel her breathe against your body. Make an effort.” Rue pauses, then bellows, “FIGHT BACK!”
Sunni swallows, bites her lower lip, and looks away.
Rue smiles. “I knew you wouldn't. She came here to help you. All you had to do is stumble off and her effort wouldn't have been wasted. But, instead, you'd let her be crushed out – yourself beind used as a weapon against her – instead of even trying to make a token effort.”
Sunni continues to look away as she feels Trixie's frantic struggle beginning to slow down. “She... didn't have to come,” Masters murmurs.
“No,” Rue gleefully replies, “she certainly didn't. I'm sure she'll never make the mistake of thinking you're worth saving again.” Rue pulls away, letting Trixie gasp for air. She slings her back to Trisha, who seems relieved to get her hands on the considerably smaller woman again and a little surprised by Rue's mental attacks on Sunni. MacKenna shoves Sunni to her knees and stands behind her, holding the broken fighter in place. “Open your gift, Boo,” Rue encourages. “We can't wait to watch, can we, Sunni?”
Trisha smiles again, swinging the goth girl up in an almost entirely limp state, over her shoulder only to drop her down across an outstretched knee. The backbreaker turns Trixie's body into an upside down U, and the smaller brunette lets out a harsh scream, signaling that the impact not only woke her up, but probably popped something that shouldn't have. Trisha at first looks as if she's listening to the sweetest music, but then her face turns into a look of disgust, as if the world's greatest singer had just hit a very sour note. "That's enough of that!" she chides before forcing Decker's head under her arm, locking the goth girl into a standing Dragon Sleeper, then sending a trio of punches into Trixie's upturned stomach to keep her soft and malleable.
The referee leans over the ropes and calls to the time keeper's table. “Get some damn security in here!”
The time keeper looks around. “Security's keeping the fans from murdering those two!”
Trisha glares at the official and looks to Rue, who anticipates her next demand. “Attack wrestlers, administration slaps our wrist. Attack referees, we don't get to be tramps up for a while,” Rue says. Trisha scowls. She knows Rue's right but she hates it. She emphasizes her rage with a fist into Trixie's chest. Belle maintains the sleeper until she thinks Trixie might be about to slip out, then rleeases and lets Decker fall to the mat. Trisha sits behind her, grabs the petite woman's wrists, plants her boots in Trixie's back, and straightens her legs while pulling Trixie's arms backwards. With a considerable height and weight advantage in Trisha's favor, Trixie's arms feel like they're about to come out of their sockets.
Sunni stares, almost emotionless, while Rue cheers from the sidelines, somehow overpowering the boos from all sides.
Trisha feels Trixie's body begin to get heavier as she goes limp, but before the goth can fully embrace unconsciousness, Belle falls back, driving the smaller girl to the mat with a reverse DDT that flattens Decker with gusto. But just as Sunni finds herself hoping that was all Trisha had in mind for Trixie, the Minnesotan starts tapping the Flint native's cheek to rouse her again. "Come on, you aren't done yet, girly." Trisha chides as Decker's eyes flutter heavily open. Belle points back and forth between Sunni and Trixie, "You two are friends, so I want you to be there for each other for what I'm going to do next." With that, Belle locks a traditional sleeper hold onto Decker, the Michigan girl's eyes go wide with renewed energy from the surprise lack of oxygen. Trisha pipes up again. "Be there for her, Sunni. She's gonna have a rough time falling asleep this time." Belle jerks the hold and squeezes tighter, keeping Trixie facing the California dream girl.
Trixie struggles valiantly but the hold begins wear her down. This time, the lights dim all the way down and Trixie goes limp. Rue, of course, makes sure to shove Sunni closer to the event.
“C'mon, Sunni,” she hisses. “You're so peppy and hopeful! Give her some encouragement! Maybe a rousing cheer?” Sunni just watches quietly.
Nearby, the time keeper pulls a phone from her ear. “Back-up security IS on the way,” she calls to the ref, but loud enough for Rue and Trisha to hear.
Rue scowls. “Boo, hiss on them. Should we take your new toy with us? I'd take mine but,” she looks down at Sunni, “I don't think there's enough glue and good pixie thoughts to put this mess back together.
Trisha knows Trixie is out, but she isn't done with the goth yet. She scoops the now limp brunette up, throwing her over her shoulder for a second while she walks over to the almost forgotten chair, flips the dead weight into position for a piledriver, then drops to her knees, driving Decker's skull into the seat of the steel chair. Surprisingly the impact results in a sound beyond the clang of skull meeting metal. Trixie lets out an exhausted and pathetically pained, "UGH!" which makes Belle grin from ear to ear. So the Minnesota Monster stands up, still holding Decker in position and repeats the piledriver twice more. The second attempt results in a weaker yelp, and the third one only has the sickening crack of skull meeting chair, so Trisha finally drops Trixie to the mat, the goth girl's body bounces as she falls flat, then begins convulsing badly from the punishment. "Oops." Trisha jokes morbidly, "I think I broke her."
Trisha sneers at Sunni. “Finish your dinner, Rue, or you don't get dessert.”
Rue eyes the crumpled mess that's Trixie and releases Sunni. She bends down, eyes the chair and examines Trixie's forehead. A small stream of red is forming – not a major gash, nothing that will require care beyond a bandage, but still a small amount of blood. She pulls Trixie towards Sunni by the arm and drops her, then dips her fingers onto Trixie's cut. She raises her finger Sunni's forehead. She quickly scrawls “JINX” on Sunni's forehead with it like fingerpaints. “I told you,” Rue says, “this name fits you way better.”
“Aren't you going to put her down?” Trisha asks as Rue steps back.
Rue shakes her head. “That would be kindness at this point. I'd hate to get a bad reputation.” The crowd begins to cheer and MacKenna sighs. “Calvary's comin'. That's our cue.”
Trisha scoffs, "Well if you don't want to finish this, I will.” And with that the Minnesota Mountain grabs a fistful of Sunni's hair, dragging the California girl to her feet. Finally Masters breaks out of her stupor, struggling against the hair hold, obviously scared more of Trisha than Rue. "Hush, shhh shhhh." Belle coos, almost motherly as she slips the straps off her shoulders, letting her dark blue sports bra roll down her torso to expose her ample chest. She then continues the motherly act as she hugs Sunni's head firmly between her breasts, locking the frantic rookie into a standing breast smother. With one hand holding the squirming Masters firmly in place, Belle beckons Rue to join in. "I think we all need to hug it out." she says slyly as she invites Rue to partake in a double smother that would sandwich Sunni between the two well endowed women's cleavage.
While not Rue's plan, the smaller thug isn't opposed to joining in on anything and promptly presses her body Trisha's. More camera flashes as Sunni is encased in flesh. The struggle, what little ther is, is done quickly. Rue pouts. “I'm sorry, Boo. I worked her over too hard. But we have a spare,” she says, motioning to Trixie.
“You also have a problem,” the referee yells, pointing outside the ring. Advancing – and fast – are three familiar, VERY angry, faces – Aloisia Berge, Kelli Love and Selia Brach. Aloisia clutches a wrench while Kelli apparently grabbed a street broom from one of the arena's janitors and is unscrewing the brush to just have a long, wooden pole. Behind them, more security than either Belle or MacKenna are comfortable with.
ALOISIA BERGE:
KELLI LOVE:
SELIA BRACH:
Trisha drops the smother, Rue awkwardly left holding the limp Californian up. Belle scoops up Moxie, lifting the battered goth into a gorilla press as the trio approach the ring. The Minnesota Monster throws Trixie's dead weight over the top rope, the unconscious woman colliding with her teammates and toppling Aloisia and Kelli as they awkwardly try to catch or cushion their friend's fall. And with that, Trisha slips under the bottom rope, hoping to escape in the confusion, leaving Rue awkwardly clutching the now glowing Sunni Masters by limp arms.
Rue looks at Sunni, looks back at Trisha, who is moving quickly away from the ring, and tosses Sunni in the direction Trixie went before beating a hasty retreat. Blowing kisses all the way.
At ringside, medics come to check on Sunni and Trixie. Fuming, Aloisia beats the wrench against the side of the ringpost only to have a security guard yank it from her. She gets into the young man's face.
“Oh, yes, disarm me!” she yells. “Good job! Earn your paycheck! Where was that bravery and sense of duty while those animals were beating these two senseless? Or when we were locked in the locker room and unable to come to their aid?”
The security guard shifts uneasily. Kelli puts a hand on Aloisia's shoulder.
“They're going to be okay,” the normally perky blonde promises. “That's all that matters.”
Aloisia whirls on Kelli. “No, it isn't. This nonsense happens too often in FAWN. Trisha and Rue have no basic sense of decency! But if it wasn't them, it would be one of the other malcontents oozing around backstage! This is idiotic!” Aloisia closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “I am sorry, Kelli. It's just... Moxie isn't here because of Trisha and--”
“Moxie will be back,” Kelli promises. “She's tough. So is Trixie. And Sunni....” Kelli trails off, thinking off all she watched on monitors before this.
“Yeah,” Selia whispers. “Yeah.”
Aloisia waves a hand. “Just as well! You heard what she said about Trixie,” she barks. “No respect! Someone runs to your aid and you have a chance to save them--”
Kelli places a hand on Aloisia's arm. “If she's pushed back against Rue, you really think she'd keep her word? Even if she wanted to, you think Trisha would let her?”
“Rue's a lap dog,” Selia adds. “She does what she's told. Sunni? She's as green as me. She did what she had to save herself after getting torn apart.”
Aloisia gazes towards the tiny weightlifter. “Would YOU have done the same thing?”
Selia hadn't prepared for that question. She thinks a bit, and her shoulders slump. “No. Probably not.” She quietly steps away and crouches next to the medic tending to Sunni.
Another medic motions to Aloisia and Kelli. “Ms. Decker's coming around. We want to take her back and look her over.” Kelli and Aloisia assist him lifting Trixie onto a stretcher.
A dazed Trixie looks up at them. “Sunni okay?”
Aloisia snorts, but Kelli replies as sweetly as possible. “She'll be okay. You... you've got too big a heart.”
“You...” Trixie rambles almost drunkenly, “... have too big of boobs. I... I will trade you.”
Kelli brushes Trixie's hair from her face. “Sorry, hon. They're real and attached.”
As the medics wheel her up the aisle, Trixie calls back as best she can, “Fine, joint custody. My hands get them every other weekend and Christmas.”
RUE ANN MACKENNA:
"BURY THEM DEEP" by GHOULTOWN
www.youtube.com/watch?v=P_kn2rtuc4o
As the steel guitar begins to twang, jets blow smoke across the entrance to the FAWN arena. Backlit by lights, the shapely figure of a familiar redneck appears. Rue Ann bursts through the smoke, her hips swaying to the music. It's been a good while since Rue Ann has appeared on FAWN for a fight, not including when she helped her partner-in-crime Trisha Belle beat Selia Brach down after their fight. Fans heckle and boo, but the negativity just seems to make Rue Ann glow. She tosses her hair and blows kisses to the attendees. But as much as they hate her, most of the fans can't help stealing glances at the milky white body she's barely concealed with a tight, tugging singlet cut down to her navel.
Rue Ann hops onto the skirt and raises the ropes. She bends over dramatically, showing her round butt to the catcalling fans, and slides into the ring. Rue Ann struts up the referee and bounces her hefty cleavage against him. "Gonna check me fer weapons, love?" she coos.
The referee clears his throat nervously. "I don't know where you'd hide them in that."
Rue Ann winks, then returns to her corner. She climbs to the top turnbuckle and welcomes the waves of fan hate, letting it wash over her. "It's so good to be home, babies!" she cries. "Mama Rue missed you all!"
SUNNI MASTERS:
"POT KETTLE BLACK" by TILLY AND THE WALL
www.youtube.com/watch?v=E7HjBr_QMXI
After a moment the sound system fades again, only to boom to life again with a familiar stomping beat. Tilly and the Wall's "Pot Kettle Black" garners a cheer from the crowd as the announcer continues, "And her opponent, hailing from San Francisco, California, standing at 5 foot 4 inches and weighing in at 120 pounds, SUNNI MASTERS. The fans cheer again as Masters ducks out from behind the curtain, only to take a few running steps down the ramp before going into a series of handsprings and cartwheels that stylishly get Sunni down to the ring. The former gymnast ends in a perfect olympic style dismount pose, only to break into a smile and a giggle when she eyes a sign in the crowd doused in glitter reading, "We missed you Sunni!" Masters having been away from the inside of a FAWN ring as long as Rue has. After another moment, the cheerleader girl grabs the top rope and all but slingshots herself into the ring, making a few triumphant poses to more cheers. "Its good to be back, she says confidently to herself as she takes her corner.
Rue Ann leans out of the ring and waves over an attendant. "Would you be a sweetie and grab me a mic?" The young woman seems nervous but does as requested, handing a live microphone to the Kentucky nightmare. Rue pats her head playfully and returns to the ring.
"Hello, all!" she coos. The fan boo accordingly and Rue's smile widens. "I miss y'all, too. I don't know if y'all saw, but way back in January of 2015, Gladiatrix made me Rookie of the Year!" This time, the fan disgust is deafening. Rue closes her eyes and relishes the moment. "So y'all got that issue! Great! Y'all come by after the show and I'll sign it for ya! I'll even help y'all read the words since I'm guessin' the average FAWNatic ain't had much schoolin'!"
Rue looks towards her opponent. "Speakin' of schoolin'! Sunni Masters, look at you! Ain't you adorable! All perky and bouncy, like you're ready for cheer practice! And you have reasons to be proud. You're undefeated here!" The fans cheer this on, but Rue Ann plows through. "You won both your matches so far. You beat up a goth pixie who's just one carvin' of 'Mama Didn't Love Me" in her arm away from being a Hot Topic manager and, somehow, you beat Serena Muir." The fans pop. Rue looks puzzeled. "Now, that one surprised me. You plantin' Siouxsie Sioux, who cares? Garbage overtakes garbage all the time. But Muir?"
MacKenna turns and paces. "I can't figure it beyond you got some good luck goin'! Musta wished on a star or givin' a leprechaun a handy under the rainbow to get a win. Personally," Rue's lips curl with cruel delight, "I'd have wished for an adult woman's body so people wouldn't mistake me for a twelve year old boy were I you, but hey - everyone makes choices."
Rue Ann backs into her corner as she finishes. "Whatever it was, Sunni, I hope you remembered to throw that coin in the wishing well for another ring miracle, 'cuz if you didn't? Well, Trixie might have to cede the nickname 'Jinx' to you. Your luck's gonna run out tonight, bitch." Rue Ann tosses the mic over her shoulder. It clatters to the ground, sending a screeching, blaring sound through the speakers making almost the entire arena cover their ears. Her eyes never leaving Sunni, she makes a simple, "Come at me" motion.
Sunni wants to respond, but everyone she's talked to at FAWN who would bother giving her any advice told her not to engage in trash talk, especially if it stings, so your opponent doesn't know they can get under your skin. The California girl just drops the smile and comes from her corner, returning the "Come at me" gesture to Rue. The two women then circle in slowly until they finally meet at center ring. Rue raises her hands up, offering up a test of strength. Sunni confidently takes up McKenna's hand, their grips matching in intensity, but unfortunately for the usually bubbly gymnast, she is no match for Rue's upper body strength and soon her arms wrists and elbows start bending under the strain. Masters isn't willing to give up at that, however, and changes tactics, the gymnast rolling back and putting her feet up, hoping to surprise Rue with a mid-ring monkey flip to lay the southern girl out early.
Sunni tosses Rue Ann masterfully, but the hillbilly lands on her feet in what would be a perfect dismount. Before MacKenna can run her mouth, Sunni is up and launches a kick, both her feet planting into Rue Ann's chest. While her maximum padding absorbs most of the pain from the kick, Rue Ann is knocked off balance and falls backwards. The fans rise to their feet at Sunni's aggressive start. The Kentucky nightmare is barely on her feet before Sunni sends a kick to her ribs that shoves her back to a corner.
As MacKenna clears her cobwebs in the corner, Sunni showboats a little. She raises her elbow and pats it, then cartwheels towards Rue to show everyone how a gymnast slams an elbow into her opponent.
Master's elbow connects smoothly and fully with the somewhat flustered Kentuckian, Sunni's joint making contact dead center in the cleavage of Rue's singlet, bone meeting bone as the elbow slams into MacKenna's sternum, the impact and pain driving the air from the hillbilly girl with a less than flattering high pitched screaming grunt. Sunni decides to keep up the pressure, quickly walking to the opposite corner and rushing back to the redhead with a series of fast handspring flips that lead into Masters throwing herself into the corner, her rump meeting the southern girl's midsection in a modified splash. Rue can barely slump into the corner before the former cheerleader lifts her chin to make sure the hillbilly girl makes eye contact with her as she says, "I'm sorry if you were expecting an easy fight, MacKenna, but it looks like you're not much without your friend to tell you when to sit and roll over." The Californian finally showing she's comfortable in FAWN with a little bit of catty trash talk. Then Masters throws a knee, then a boot into Rue's abs to keep her complacent.
The gymnast's knee bites into Rue's gut and folds her. Masters cinches on a headlock and pulls the redhead from the corner. With a wave to the cheering fans, Sunni brings Rue to the mat with a DDT. The ring quakes with the impact. Sunni rolls Rue onto her back for a count.
ON--
The referee doesn't even get his hand to canvas before MacKenna launches Sunni off her with a strong thrust. Sunni blinks as she assesses what just happened, realizing the splayed out jerk hoisted and tossed her a good two or three feet away. The referee looks at Sunni.
"No count!"
Sunni's nose crinkles up. "Not even one?" She felt a tiny crack run up her pride. After all that, and not even....
Sunni rises and returns to the mountain girl. She lifts up Rue's leg while raising her own elbow. Time to soften her up a bit more, Masters thinks as she readies an elbow drop to the midsection.
Sunni drops the elbow straight into Rue's navel, the redhead sitting up slightly with a loud "OOOMPH!" as the air is forced from her body, so much so that MacKenna stays seated, her arms encircling her sore tummy. Masters tries to keep her composure and momentum, scrambling to her feet before sending a boot up into a high kick that slams into the Kentuckian's chin, laying Rue out again, the Southern girl's arms splaying out wide from the impact. The California native then cartwheel's to the ropes, impressing the crowd yet again with her agility and finesse as she contacts the ropes in mid-handstand, bounces back into a twirl, showing off her gymnastic prowess with one of the flashiest splashes FAWN may have ever seen, her body aimed to slam down hard across Rue's stomach and chest.
It truly is an amazing arc Sunni makes, almost art, except for the ending where two bare feet prop up, catch her, and propel her to the middle of the ring. Ever the gymnast, Sunni manages to land on her feet. Instinctively, she bounces up, arms outstretched, like a dismount from the pommel horse. However, that provides her entire back as a target and Rue, now up and about, is all too happy to take advantage. The sound of Rue's knuckles cracking across the back of Sunni's skull is too much for those in the front row, many of whom look away. As the young rookie stumbles forward, the hillbilly menaces reaches forward and snatches for meat.
Sunni yelps as MacKenna's talons sink into her back, clawing right where her kidneys are. Rue seems to glow as she grinds the muscle and flesh she's clutching, sending pain throughout Masters's body. Rue yanks up, forcing the petite woman up to her nimble toes, and drives a knee into Sunni's tailbone, just before shoving Sunni to canvas. As Sunni falls flat on her face, MacKenna steps in front of her, steps on her hair, and bends down to take her wrists.
Sunni is left groaning after the turnaround MacKenna managed, but that noise elevates into screams as the Kentuckian pulls firmly on both wrists, twisting Masters' arms uncomfortably while simultaneously pulling on the gymnast's hair she's standing on. The ref butts in immediately. "Rue, you know the rules. You've gotta lay off the hair." all while Sunni continues to squirm and kick the mat in pain and frustration.
“I'm sorry,” Rue barks loudly. “She's beaten on me so cruelly, I fear my ears are pounding and I didn't catch that!”
“HAIR!” the zebra barks again.
“Not that ear,” Rue yells again. “My other ear's the good one!” She wrenches back on Sunni's arm. The official, realizing Rue's going to milk her “deafness” as long as possible, he begins to count. At three, Rue releases and stomps on the back of Sunni's head, grinding her nose into the mat with the ball of her foot.
“Where's all that lip now, Sunni?” Rue purrs. “C'mon, you talk so big!” Rue walks around her prone foe and straddles her, facing the back of Sunni's head. She reaches down, grabs Sunni's boots and, holds them at her side and keeps them there with her elbows. She bends down again, grabbing for Sunni's wrists. “Let's see if you scream as big as you talk.”
Sunni lets out another scream as she's suspended above the mat by Rue, all of the California girl's weight straining her wrists, shoulders and back while the redhead's lock also stretches her legs into an uncomfortable position. The ref steps in again, at first checking to make sure the hold is clean, then leaning in to check on Masters. Rue giggles, "Come on, girl. Tell the man what we all want to hear." Tears of pain and frustration begin to well up in Sunni's eyes, but she shakes her head, "No! No! No!" she repeats intensely to the posed question, even with no immediately available avenue of escape presenting itself.
“This one's got fight!” Rue barks as she releases the swing. “I love fight!... I especially love beating it out of 'em.” The Kentucky girl reaches down, shoves her right hand's fingers into Sunni's mouth, and clamps with a mandible claw. MacKenna yanks Sunni up, pulling her lower jaw like a handle on a pail, and wrenches her head around. Rue beings to spin, twirling Sunni around her like a panicking moon, and releases her. Masters is slung into a corner, her shoulder catching the post between turnbuckles. As she slumps down, Rue Ann runs up behind her and jumps onto the back of her knees.
The brunette's head rears back and lets forth a stream of obscenities many are shocked such an angelic looking fighter would know, although she seems to wince from saying them as much from the pain. Still standing on the back of Sunni's knees, Rue reaches forward and cups a hand under Masters's chin. She bends Sunni backwards, raising her left foot and placing it into the small of the gymnast's back. “That's it,” Rue says. “Limber that mouth up. I've got plans for it.” She then pulls back tighter, preparing to release Sunni's chin and slam her face straight into the ringpost ahead.
Masters' face swings forward, but is able to raise her arms in a basic instinctual self preservation method to lessen the impact. Sunni's face still meets the turnbuckle with less than comforting impact though, and as the California girl attempts to push herself away from the corner her once extensive string of curses is replaced with one loud expletive, "AHH, FUCK." she screams, her nose and forehead sore from meeting the turnbuckle.
Sore though she may be, Sunni shows the spirit expected from a former cheerleader when Rue grabs he by her hair to drag her from the corner. Not even thinking of her image or place in FAWN, Masters surprises everyone in the arena, her Kentuckian opponent included, when she swings around and delivers a perfect low blow between MacKenna's thighs.
The thing about gymnasts is, while they're lean and muscular all over, their legs are nothing but pure power. Sunni's legs, despite her petite seeming frame, is no different. The impact of Sunni's toe biting deep into her womanhood makes Rue's vision momentarily black out. Her eyes cross as MacKenna is lifted from her feet. When her soles touch down, MacKenna's knees wobble before she collapses to them. Her lips tremble to form the threats she wants to spew. “Over... will strip... make you... hand puppet.”
Sunni sneers, righteous rage flaming behind her eyes. Masters places her hands on Rue's shoulders, flips over her, lands on the mat, and goes for a handstand. Her legs kick up, retract, and then she mule-kicks Rue in the back of the skull. The redhead flies flat, face down, and the fans couldn't be more excited. Their cheers suddenly hit Sunni, and she's overcome with pride for the moment. They're cheering for me, she thinks. I did something they love. The urge to please them is overwhelming. If they like that, she ponders, they'll love this.
Sunni grabs Rue's right leg and pulls it back as far as the joint will allow. She then drops to her butt on the back of Rue's head, sliding her own legs under Rue's throat and locking at the ankles. Sunni raises her free hand, stretching her fingers in a theatrical fashion, as if she's a magician warming up, and slaps a crotch claw on Rue. The hillbilly bellows under her as the gymnast's nimble digits claw and maul her womanhood through sheer fabric over the referee's protests.
“Like this?” Sunni giggles as she yanks her handful side to side. “You probably do. Trash like you likes it rough. When I'm done, though, your next litter of white trash pups will have to be delivered cesarean.”
“ARROGANT, CLASSIST BITCH!” Rue Ann roars beneath her. The venom in her voice catches Sunni off guard, but the more surprising moment is Rue palming the mat and beginning to yank her captured stem straight, shaking Sunni from her roost. Panic grips the rookie – she hadn't considered this. She hops and races across the ring. While Rue Ann fumes and stands, Sunni charges her for a flying neckscissor.
The two women seem almost identical in attitude now, both experiencing tunnel vision, focusing fully on the other girl in the ring. The neckscissors latch on tight, bringing the two to the mat. But with all the adrenaline running through both women, they find it easy to ignore the bumps and bruises dealt out so far and focus on the now. MacKenna swiftly latches onto the nearest rope with her right hand, the ref demanding a release of the hold less than a second or two after the scissors is applied.
Sunni tightens the scissors, so single-minded she doesn't hear the demands of the referee. She looks up and sees him counting. “Wait, what's going on?” The distraction is all Rue Ann needs to drive a fist into Sunni's belly. Masters yelps and pulls away, unhooking her neck scissors.
Both women scramble to their feet and latch onto each other. Sunni backhands Rue across her freckled face first, then Rue Ann returns fire with an open-palm between the eyes. Sunni falters backwards and the Kentucky menace drives two first down, each meeting the her shoulders. Masters winces but returns a knife edge chop across the buxom ginger's chest, shaking what her mother more-than-generously gave her. The flurry of hits continue until each fighter realizes they're taking as much pain as their giving. As if they're cinched, both women race to the ropes behind them and whip themselves at each other for clotheslines. Both arms connent. Both women spill to the mat on their backs. Both remain motionless as the ref stares in shock.
And the FAWNatics lose their minds.
Sunni and Rue lay still, both laid out like star fish in the ring, nothing but their chests rising and falling in unison with their labored breathing. The ref stands dumbfounded for a moment as the crowd cheers, trying to rouse either woman to consciousness so the match can continue. Finally, with little life shown from the women, the official is forced to start a count for both Rue and Sunni simultaneously. "1!...2!" he starts, the two women finally showing some life as the two roll on the mat, showing signs of both kicking the cobwebs of unconsciousness from their heads.
Sunni is the first to get to her feet. Her body is ravaged with pain. She can feel bruises forming where Rue's meaty hands landed blows. Still, she wobbles towards Rue Ann, kicks her right leg up perfect vertical, and drops the heel of her boot on the back of Rue's neck. The Kentucky brute grunts but stays on all fours. She raises the leg again and, once more, drops it on Rue's back. Again, a grunt but nothing else. Once more she raises her leg, but this time Rue bolts to her feet and kick the foot Sunni's balance on from under her. As Masters falls forwards, MacKenna grabs her by the hair and slings her in the opposite direction.
Sunni hits the mat and rolls to her back, prepping to hop up. Rue Ann has other plans and leaps atop her. Masters scratches and pushes to get the redhead off her but Rue Ann begins pounding on Sunni's ribs, wailing on them. Each hit feels like it's going to burst through bone. The referee does his best to interrupt, yelling at Rue about closed fists. Sunni finally manages to pull her legs up and push MacKenna off of her. The ginger bull only snorts with fury and rushes again, but Sunni greats her with a spinning kick towards the cheek.
The spin kick hits with full force, heel meeting cheek with a harsh THWACK! Rue's eyes roll back into her skull, the redhead's eyelids fluttering over white globes as she goes limp and hits the mat hard with the opposite cheek, arms limp at her sides. The FAWNatics go crazy. Not only did the fan favorite just put an up and coming bad girl down, she put her down HARD. Once again, the ref is dumbfounded, but not nearly as much as Sunni Masters herself. After an adrenaline fueled, angry huff, her aggressive stance drops, she realizes whats happened, and she explodes with energy, all but ignoring her downed opponent to leap up onto the second rope in one corner, raising an arm triumphantly to thunderous cheers. The ref tries to get the California Girl's attention refocused on the still unfinished match, but its all but pointless now, the bubbly west coast girl is lost in the moment and rushes to the opposite corner, taking a second victory pose for the fans.
Rue rises, shaken at first, but slowly her face begins to burn as crimson as her hair. She eyes the showboating Masters, storms over to the corner. Taking advantage of Sunni standing on the second ropes, legs spread, Rue drives an uppercut where it counts. Sunni's cheers immediately switch to wails of shock and agony. Before she can react, MacKenna wraps arms around Sunni's legs and suplexes her. The gymnast is dumped backwards to the mat, landing on her neck and shoulders.
Rue rights herself up, turns around, stomps over Sunni's body, and then lifts her up by her hair. Again, Rue Ann grips Sunni from behind, this time in a tight bearhug. This is the first time Sunni realizes how much upper body strength the hillbilly has. She can barely breathe as Rue crushes her into her bosom. Then, again, a suplex. Sunni crashes to the mat, this time the back her her skull getting impact. Repeat – Rue stands, walks up Sunni's body – making sure to pound her bare feet into her fallen prey – pulls her up by her hair, bearhug, suplex. With each impact, the FAWNatics cry out in horror and rage. And, with each impact, Sunni feels her body giving in a little more to pain. When the next suplex comes, Sunni feels like her bones have melted. As she lays on the mat, a crumpled mess, she feels the mat tremble under Rue's coming steps. Rue grabs her under the jawline. “Okay, Sunni, you wanted to play with the big girls. Time for big girl games.” Rue pulls Sunni of for a Michinoku Driver.
MICHINOKU DRIVER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=mrkRmkc_3HU
Sunni is all but putty in Rue's hands as she lifts and shifts the California girl in her grip for the maneuver. At the last second, MacKenna looks out at the crowd and shouts, more to the FAWNattics than to the now senseless gymnast in her hands, "You wanted into the big leagues. Well, welcome to FAWN, bitch!" The Kentucky girl then mercilessly goes through with the Michinoku Driver, slamming Masters to the mat as she sits out, Sunni's full weight slamming to the mat like a sack of potatoes. Rue hooks the former gymnast's muscular leg and the ref slides in for a count. "1!... 2!..." But suddenly Rue drops the pin, ignoring the ref's questioning of her sanity and instead wagging her finger in a "No no no." gesture to the fans. "That's too good for her. I'm going to break this bitch."
Rue rises and grabs Sunni's throat, squeezing it just enough to let the gymnast she could do real damage if she wanted to. “Where should we begin?” Rue growls. Her deep twangy accent practically vanishes and it's as if Sunni's speaking to another woman. “Your deplorable need to drop to horrible stereotypes based off regional economic hardships? Your showboating theatrics that prove you're more interested in adoration than competition? Oh, I know.” Rue's other claw latches onto Sunni's crotch, her fingers probing and rubbing. Masters's eyes grow wide as MacKenna continues. “Let's start with a lesson in 'What Goes Around, Comes Around.'”
An open palm thrusts into Sunni's midsection. Masters folds and Rue ducks under her. MacKenna lifts Sunni up on her shoulders in a fireman's carry. “You wanna play dirty,” the mountain girl giggles, “you get treated dirty.” On cue, Sunni feels the talon dive between her thighs and begin working her over in her most private of privates. Her eyes bulge and water as Rue alternates between rubbing and clutching and twisting. “Gonna ask me to stop?”
“Fuck... you... whore,” Sunni stammers.
“Those ain't the magic words,” Rue replies, her twang returning. “Guess we got a lotta work to do.” Rue lifts Sunni up and drops her over her knee in a gutbuster. Wind rushes from her body and she just wants to curl into a ball, but MacKenna holds her in place, pushing her head down with one hand while the other continues its probing, humiliating torture.
“Such a naughty girl,” Rue chimes. “I think I'm gonna strip you down and parade you around. Teach you some humility. But first...” The redhead pull the seat of Sunni's one piece up, revealing cheeks. “First, Mama spank.” Rue draws a hand back.
Sunni is spent, she squirms in her position, but can't muster much resistance. MacKenna gleefully swats the Californian's exposed cheeks once, twice, three times and doesn't stop their. Master's face blushes a deep red, more with bruised ego than truly emotionally broken. However, by the time Rue lands the 5th slap on her ass, Sunni's face goes ghostly pale as she realizes MacKenna's intentions. If the Kentuckian acts anything like she has in the past, especially when accompanying her mentor Trisha Belle, then this spanking session is mere foreplay, and the former gymnast is in some real danger.
Putting two and two together, Sunni tries to undercut what will inevitably turn into a torture scene in the ring, speaking up, "Alright, I gi-UGH!" her surrender cut off by the wily MacKenna slamming an elbow between her shoulder blades. "No you don't" she whispers sadistically into Masters' ear, "This ends when I say so, not you." And with that Rue rolls her off her knee to the mat.
The referee leans in. “Did you submit, Sunni?”
Rue shoves her face into the ref's. “Did you HEAR her say she did? NO!” MacKenna stands, dragging Sunni by her main, grabs her under the throat, turns, and wrecks Masters with an Inverted Headlock Backbreaker.
INVERTED HEADLOCK BACKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=AF3cgmCnhRU
The fans deflate as Sunni rolls onther her side. Rue just gets up, kicks the gymnast onto her back, and stands on her chest. Rue stretches out her bare toes and begins pinching Sunni's breasts with them. “I've got pretty versatile feel. Neat, huh?” Sunni only replies in a howl. Rue's nose scrunches up in disapproval. “Hmmph. Most people think it's cool.”
MacKenna steps off Sunni and kicks the downed woman onto her stomach. Squatting over Masters, she reaches under her chin once more and pulls the battered fan favorite back into a camel clutch. The hands slip down casually, pinching on Sunni's throat but making sure not to choke – just make it hard to do more than gargle. Sunni offers no fight. She just bends. As a gymnast, she can bend backwards pretty far. Rue knows this and opt to pull her back even further.
As Sunni twitches and mewls, Rue whispers to her. “Did you know the ring attendants saw you cry after your match with the goth loser?” At first, Sunni is confused. Then she remembers. The blush returns. “She's a soft touch – probably wants to dive into your goods. I heard how she helped you cover. But, the people around here? P.A.s, ring attendants? They're gossips. They know everyone's business. Most people don't listen.” Rue pulls back harder and, as the ref checks for choking or submission, giggles like a demonic doll does in a horror movie. “You cried, Sunni. You're a grown woman who accidentally won a match and you cried.”
Sunni felt emotion welling up. She tried to reply but only mumbled sounds. Rue continued. “All these fans are cheering for you because they think you're a wrestler. They think you're somehow able to win on your own merit. Will you cry when they see you can't? When they see you're a fraud? Like I know you're a fraud?”
Rue yanked Sunni back so hard she heard bones pop. All the muscles in Masters's abdomen burned as they surpassed their limits many times over. Sunni felt warm, wet lips against her ear. “Like, deep down, YOU know you're a fraud?”
The tears well up in Sunni's eyes, a combination of frustration, anger, and embarrassment, as she does the only thing her body has strength left to do, squirm. The ref asks for a submission and Masters answers both the official and Rue's insinuation with a series of sobbing negatives, "No! NO! Nooo." The third and final response trails off into heaving sobs. The FAWNattics deflate further, not knowing what was said, but not needing to be detectives to be able to see that Rue has gotten under Sunni's skin. For the fans, this match isn't fun to watch anymore, they turn fully on MacKenna, Masters taking very little solace in the fact that the crowd remains fully on her side.
The referee's heart breaks at the display. “Come on, Rue. End this.” He attempts to make it sound like an order but it comes off as a plea.
“I don't HAVE to end it,” Rue shoots back coldly. “How much time's left?”
“Like, four minutes,” the zebra sighs.
“Sounds like I've got three minutes, fifty-seven seconds of fun ahead.” It's just then Rue notices the tears. “Oh! Oh, this is good.” She finally releases the hold and all of Sunni's muscles snap back in place. MacKenna takes her by the scruff of the neck and drags her to the side of the ring where a camera man stands at the ready. Rue wraps an arm under Sunni's head, bracing it behind in a sleeper hold, but never applying the full pressure to end things. Instead, she holds the woman in place and calls to the camera man. “Here's your shot, man. Take it in.”
Sure enough, the camera man focuses his lense on Sunni's face. There are flashes of cameras and phones behind him, including the Gladiatrix photographer. In her ear, Sunni hears Rue. “It's all being documented. Look up at the jumbotron.” Sunni doesn't want to, but her eyes gravitate up. Above them, in screens all around the arena, bigger than life – Sunni's puffy, tear-stained eyes and cheeks. Battle weary. Tired. Drained.
“Please,” Sunni says quietly. “Please... just stop.”
Rue tightens the hold finally and Sunni feels the full pressure of the sleeper. “I'll stop,” Rue says, “when you leave FAWN. When you give up and quit. Or... maybe I won't. Maybe I'll keep you as a toy. I'll play with you every night.” There was a new evil in Rue's voice, one Sunni hadn't heard before. “I'll brush your hair, dress you, undress you, and--”
Rue releases the hold and hoists her above her head in a gorilla press. Parading her around, she giggles.” “And break you over and over.”
With that, Rue drops the broken Californian over her knee in a nasty backbreaker that makes the whole crowd wince with an audible "OHHH!" Sunni merely flops to the mat, tears still streaking her cheeks, but her body limp. Whether the usually perky gymnast is out cold or just emotionally drained, no one can tell, that is until MacKenna steps forward and sends a swift kick to Masters' ribs, forcing the petite girl to let out a guttural moan "OMPH!"
Sunni doesn't move being the force of the impact. Rue bends down and slaps her gently across the face. “Wakey-wakey, eggs and bakey. No napping, sugar. We got people to entertain.”
MacKenna scoops the California dream girl up like a sack of potatoes and takes her to a corner where she hangs Sunni in a Tree of Woe. At this point, the boos and jeers are almost deafening and FAWN security on the arena floor is actually doubling for fear of angy attendees jumping the barricade and rushing the ring. Sunni hangs, spent. Rue Ann rubs her strong thighs. “You are a li'l treat, ain't ya?” She looks down. “You were a cheerleader, right? I bet your raised morale for the home team, huh? Spreadin' your legs so much musta really helped doing the splits.” If the words had come earlier in the match they would have had weight, but Sunni's humiliation had long since overloaded. The tears now ran down her forehead as she stared into the distance. Then a new sensation.
She felt lips on her thigh, followed by a gentle lick.
This change in tactics was not unnoticed by the FAWNatics. While most were still disgusted, many let out woos and cheers as the shapely ginger seemed to take an entirely different interest in Sunni. Rue looks down and wrinkles her nose playfully. “You don't like? I can be gentle.” Her fingertips trace Sunni's body, nails glancing down her side. “I just assumed, since you ran with Decker, you had... interests. And you seemed really into parts of me.
“You were kinda mean to 'em, though,” Rue said with a pout. Slowly, she lowered her crotch into Sunni's face. “Kiss it better?” She lowers her undercarriage onto Sunni's face, who desperately tries to pull away, but the turnbuckles give her no escape. More fans begin to hoot at the image of one very attractive woman grinding on another, but Rue suddenly stops and pulls away. “Nothing?”
Sunni blinks and says, in a weary voice, “I think you might be crazy.”
Rue only grins as she scampers up the ropes, perches on top of the ringpost. “Just as well,” she laughs. “After all, white trash like me, we only like it rough!” And with that, she drops a Tree of Woe Knee Drop.
TREE OF WOE KNEE DROP:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=HkVz8rew3dg
Sunni's body is driven hard into the mat, her mass the consistency of jelly as her dead weight topples to a face down position. Rue's smile remains permanently spread across her face, "You think I'm done, but I'm just starting to have some real fun." she says, only loud enough for Masters to hear, if she were at all aware. MacKenna then drags the limp Californian into her lap and goes about stripping down the gymnast by sliding the straps of her singlet off her shoulders and rolling the lycra down beneath her navel, exposing the perfectly toned athlete's physique underneath. The usually lustful FAWNattics boo in droves, not wanting to see the baby face Sunni so thoroughly trounced. MacKenna responds with a mocking sigh, "Fine, fair is fair." The Kentucky girl then rolls the straps of her own singlet off, stripping down to her own belly button to stay on an even playing field, a mocking sort of sportsmanship shown by Rue with her victim.
Again, Rue tries to slap Sunni to some semblance of awake. Groggily she looks up. “Good news,” Rue chirps. “I'm going to pin you.” She drops the naked woman to the mat and slowly, methodically, grazes her half-naked body up Sunni's. The camera flashes from the crowd is almost blinding. Finally, she rests her large breasts on top of Sunni's and goes for a grapevine pin.
ONE....
TWO...
THR--
Rue pulls Sunni up.
Bleary eyed, Sunni looks up at Rue. “Why?” she whimpers.
Rue shrugs. “Just felt wrong.”
“ONE MINUTE!” the announcer booms over the sound system. “ONE MINUTE REMAINING!”
Rue looks over at the ringpost. “I know why!” She drags Sunni to the corner and leaves her there, spread eagle. Rue climbs the ringpost to the top, turns, and prepares to leap onto Sunni for her dreaded finisher – the Kentucky Meat Shower.
Sunni lays on the mat, completely spent. As Rue goes airborne she tries to force her battered body to move out of the line of fire, but the match has taken a bigger toll on her muscles than she'd care to admit, she can't move at all, and is left to take the full impact of the dreaded finisher. Rue's rump lands cleanly on Master's bruised abs, a gush of air forces its way out through the California Dream girl's mouth and nose in a desperate, yelping "OOFF!", and with that Sunni's eyes begin to flutter heavily, the match finally getting to her. She's exhausted, but Rue won't leave it at that. Instead, MacKenna finishes her maneuver, laying atop her victim and forcing Sunni's tear stained face between her breasts. Normally Rue's victims show one last jolt of energy in their struggles to breathe, but Masters' body just squirms and shifts weakly under the Kentucky girl, boots barely scuffing the mat, hands only digging palms into the canvas.
Again, the announcer's voice booms. “THIS MATCH WILL END IN FIFTEEN SECONDS!”
Rue pulls her breasts off Sunni's now oily face, the tears mostly dried up. “Golly, city girl! Guess I better pin ya fast!”
Rue stands, grabs Sunni's ankles, and rolls her up in a pin, curling her like a shrimp. To the delight of some, Rue's sure to grind her barely covered womanhood. The exhaustion and pain from the beating leading to this makes Sunni unable to push away. Instead, she accepts the loss before her – her first in FAWN.
The referee slaps a count in time with the literal last three seconds of the match as they're announced over the speakers.
ONE...
TWO...
But “Three” never came. Instead, a “ONE... ZERO!” followed by a bell.At the last second, Rue releases Sunni's legs and pulls her up. The ref stares, slackjawed. There's a moment of confusion as he turns to the timekeepers, looks back, shrugs, and motions that there's no winner.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this match has reached its time limit,” the announcer booms, “and there is NO winner!”
Sunni stares up into Rue's eyes. “Why?” is all she can manage.
“Cuz, li'l darling, if I win, they'll just reverse the decision for everything I'm gonna do to you post match. But if neither of us win, I get all my fun--”
The genius of it hits Sunni. “And I get nothing,” she mutters. Sharp stinging wakens her up and Rue grabs the handfuls of each of her breasts and pulls her closer.
“Oh, no, li'l love,” Rue hisses, licking her lips, “you're getting everything.”
TRIXIE “JINX” DECKER:
Without a second thought, Rue drops to the mat, easily dragging the weakened Californian with her, wrapping thighs around Sunni's head, neck and shoulder to lock the usually chipper cheerleader into a Triangle Choke. "Now, come on, lets see some more of those tears, baby girl," she chides Masters as she puts the pressure on. But then, suddenly, the curtain at the top of the ramp bursts open. Trixie Decker sprinting down the ramp. It all happens so fast, only a few select fans realize whats going on before Trixie slides into the ring under the bottom rope. The goth girl immediately throws a stomp into the redhead's shoulder, then her chest, forcing Rue to break the hold on Sunni.
Rue releases Sunni and rolls away before looking up to her attacker. When MacKenna realizes who it is, she laughs. "You came down here all on your lonesome, li'l girl?" The shapely villain cups her breasts and blows a kiss. "Was all this a little too--" She never finishes the taunt. Trixie soars a right into Rue's mouth, shoving her back. It's immediately followed by a left right into the nose. Rue crawls away, clutching her face and cursing.
Trixie bends down and grabs onto Sunni. "Come on, hon. We've gotta get you out of here."
Sunni looks up at Trixie and, once more, the tears begin to well up. "I can't...." Her tiny voice trails off.
"Oh, HELL, NO!" Rue bellows as she stands. "I am not done with her OR you!" Rue pops her neck. "When I'm done here, I'm draggin' you both home as my new toys."
The referee steps between. "Rue, the match is over!"
"This is FAWN," Rue snips. "The match isn't over until the fans get bread and circus. And what are you gonna do? Reverse the draw?" The official's jaw hung. He knew FAWN security was, by policy, slow to respond.
Trixie gently places Sunni in the corner, never looking away from Rue. "You're tired and I'm fresh. You proved your point - you're an asshole and a bully."
"That's just what losers call winners," Rue Ann laughs as she bolts and slams into the Michigan goth. MacKenna scoops Trixie up into an extra-tight bearhug. She grinds the petite Jinx into her body. "Havin' fun yet?" Rue snarks.
"Loads," Trixie says with a grunt. Decker hauls back and punches Rue on one side of her temple, then the other. MacKenna stumbles but holds the hug, so Trixie takes a hold of her silky red tresses, rips Rue's head back, and punches her in the throat. That does is. Rue releases her. Trixie does not return the favor and instead jumps on and snakes around Rue for her finisher, Jinxed!
JINXED!
www.youtube.com/watch?v=hjYRhjepPW4
Instantly Rue realizes she'd underestimated Trixie's capability and her own exhaustion. As the Kentuckian drops to a knee, the referee checks for submission.
"It's not a match!" Trixie barks at him. She looks over at Sunni. "GO! Get out of here now! This isn't your problem."
The wrecked Californian only looks back at her, heaving and broken, and stays motionless. Trixie is so distracted by her calls to Sunni she doesn't realize the fans are calling warnings to her.
TRISHA BELLE:
CLANG! A deafening chair shot rings out as a steel chair slams into Trixie's skull. The goth girl's body drops from the hold she had applied to a crumpled mass on the mat. Rue looks up, finally getting her breath back and moving her neck again to see that Trisha Belle now stands in the ring, having gotten to the ring amongst all the confusion with Trixie. "Well, you took your sweet time." Rue jokes. The Minnesotan cracks a devilish smile that runs a chill down most people's spine, but only gets MacKenna smiling likewise. Then Belle grabs a fistful of Trixie's hair, deciding to not give the goth any time to realize what hit her.
Rue picks up the steel chair from Belle and smiles at Trixie. As the Jinx's eyes begin to focus, Rue swings the chair and catches her on the side of her head. Trixie goes limp, hanging by the hair Trisha's clutching.
“I don't think I've—” Belle pauses, “-- we've had this one yet. We're just working our way through the losers, aren't we?” The Minnesota Mountain eyes the prize. “I guess we better work fast before the rest show up.”
“If the rest show up soon,” Rue chirps, “the stage hands and production assistants I paid to 'accidentally' make sure certain people can't get out of the locker room owe me a refund.” Rue Ann sizes up Trixie, who is valiantly trying to focus. She glances back at Sunni, still leaning against the ringpost. “Boo, can I borrow your new doll for JUST a second? I promise I'll give her back.”
Belle looks uncertain, like a pitbull wanting to protect the raw steak it was just handed, but slowly transfers ownership of Trixie to her tiny partner-in-crime. Rue slings Trixie into the corner, colliding her with Sunni. The hurl is followed by the redneck slamming her body into both of them, sandwiching Trixie between herself and Sunni. She slowly shoves Trixie's face down into Sunni's cleavage before crushing her own chest against the back of the Flint native's head. Trixie begins to squirm but Rue grabs her wrists and cranks her arms back.
“Fight me,” Rue Ann demands of Sunni. “Just TRY to push back and I'll let you both go.” The fans cry for Sunni to fight while, behind Rue, Trisha tenses at the mere idea of losing her new plaything. “She's getting smothered out against you. I know you can feel her breathe against your body. Make an effort.” Rue pauses, then bellows, “FIGHT BACK!”
Sunni swallows, bites her lower lip, and looks away.
Rue smiles. “I knew you wouldn't. She came here to help you. All you had to do is stumble off and her effort wouldn't have been wasted. But, instead, you'd let her be crushed out – yourself beind used as a weapon against her – instead of even trying to make a token effort.”
Sunni continues to look away as she feels Trixie's frantic struggle beginning to slow down. “She... didn't have to come,” Masters murmurs.
“No,” Rue gleefully replies, “she certainly didn't. I'm sure she'll never make the mistake of thinking you're worth saving again.” Rue pulls away, letting Trixie gasp for air. She slings her back to Trisha, who seems relieved to get her hands on the considerably smaller woman again and a little surprised by Rue's mental attacks on Sunni. MacKenna shoves Sunni to her knees and stands behind her, holding the broken fighter in place. “Open your gift, Boo,” Rue encourages. “We can't wait to watch, can we, Sunni?”
Trisha smiles again, swinging the goth girl up in an almost entirely limp state, over her shoulder only to drop her down across an outstretched knee. The backbreaker turns Trixie's body into an upside down U, and the smaller brunette lets out a harsh scream, signaling that the impact not only woke her up, but probably popped something that shouldn't have. Trisha at first looks as if she's listening to the sweetest music, but then her face turns into a look of disgust, as if the world's greatest singer had just hit a very sour note. "That's enough of that!" she chides before forcing Decker's head under her arm, locking the goth girl into a standing Dragon Sleeper, then sending a trio of punches into Trixie's upturned stomach to keep her soft and malleable.
The referee leans over the ropes and calls to the time keeper's table. “Get some damn security in here!”
The time keeper looks around. “Security's keeping the fans from murdering those two!”
Trisha glares at the official and looks to Rue, who anticipates her next demand. “Attack wrestlers, administration slaps our wrist. Attack referees, we don't get to be tramps up for a while,” Rue says. Trisha scowls. She knows Rue's right but she hates it. She emphasizes her rage with a fist into Trixie's chest. Belle maintains the sleeper until she thinks Trixie might be about to slip out, then rleeases and lets Decker fall to the mat. Trisha sits behind her, grabs the petite woman's wrists, plants her boots in Trixie's back, and straightens her legs while pulling Trixie's arms backwards. With a considerable height and weight advantage in Trisha's favor, Trixie's arms feel like they're about to come out of their sockets.
Sunni stares, almost emotionless, while Rue cheers from the sidelines, somehow overpowering the boos from all sides.
Trisha feels Trixie's body begin to get heavier as she goes limp, but before the goth can fully embrace unconsciousness, Belle falls back, driving the smaller girl to the mat with a reverse DDT that flattens Decker with gusto. But just as Sunni finds herself hoping that was all Trisha had in mind for Trixie, the Minnesotan starts tapping the Flint native's cheek to rouse her again. "Come on, you aren't done yet, girly." Trisha chides as Decker's eyes flutter heavily open. Belle points back and forth between Sunni and Trixie, "You two are friends, so I want you to be there for each other for what I'm going to do next." With that, Belle locks a traditional sleeper hold onto Decker, the Michigan girl's eyes go wide with renewed energy from the surprise lack of oxygen. Trisha pipes up again. "Be there for her, Sunni. She's gonna have a rough time falling asleep this time." Belle jerks the hold and squeezes tighter, keeping Trixie facing the California dream girl.
Trixie struggles valiantly but the hold begins wear her down. This time, the lights dim all the way down and Trixie goes limp. Rue, of course, makes sure to shove Sunni closer to the event.
“C'mon, Sunni,” she hisses. “You're so peppy and hopeful! Give her some encouragement! Maybe a rousing cheer?” Sunni just watches quietly.
Nearby, the time keeper pulls a phone from her ear. “Back-up security IS on the way,” she calls to the ref, but loud enough for Rue and Trisha to hear.
Rue scowls. “Boo, hiss on them. Should we take your new toy with us? I'd take mine but,” she looks down at Sunni, “I don't think there's enough glue and good pixie thoughts to put this mess back together.
Trisha knows Trixie is out, but she isn't done with the goth yet. She scoops the now limp brunette up, throwing her over her shoulder for a second while she walks over to the almost forgotten chair, flips the dead weight into position for a piledriver, then drops to her knees, driving Decker's skull into the seat of the steel chair. Surprisingly the impact results in a sound beyond the clang of skull meeting metal. Trixie lets out an exhausted and pathetically pained, "UGH!" which makes Belle grin from ear to ear. So the Minnesota Monster stands up, still holding Decker in position and repeats the piledriver twice more. The second attempt results in a weaker yelp, and the third one only has the sickening crack of skull meeting chair, so Trisha finally drops Trixie to the mat, the goth girl's body bounces as she falls flat, then begins convulsing badly from the punishment. "Oops." Trisha jokes morbidly, "I think I broke her."
Trisha sneers at Sunni. “Finish your dinner, Rue, or you don't get dessert.”
Rue eyes the crumpled mess that's Trixie and releases Sunni. She bends down, eyes the chair and examines Trixie's forehead. A small stream of red is forming – not a major gash, nothing that will require care beyond a bandage, but still a small amount of blood. She pulls Trixie towards Sunni by the arm and drops her, then dips her fingers onto Trixie's cut. She raises her finger Sunni's forehead. She quickly scrawls “JINX” on Sunni's forehead with it like fingerpaints. “I told you,” Rue says, “this name fits you way better.”
“Aren't you going to put her down?” Trisha asks as Rue steps back.
Rue shakes her head. “That would be kindness at this point. I'd hate to get a bad reputation.” The crowd begins to cheer and MacKenna sighs. “Calvary's comin'. That's our cue.”
Trisha scoffs, "Well if you don't want to finish this, I will.” And with that the Minnesota Mountain grabs a fistful of Sunni's hair, dragging the California girl to her feet. Finally Masters breaks out of her stupor, struggling against the hair hold, obviously scared more of Trisha than Rue. "Hush, shhh shhhh." Belle coos, almost motherly as she slips the straps off her shoulders, letting her dark blue sports bra roll down her torso to expose her ample chest. She then continues the motherly act as she hugs Sunni's head firmly between her breasts, locking the frantic rookie into a standing breast smother. With one hand holding the squirming Masters firmly in place, Belle beckons Rue to join in. "I think we all need to hug it out." she says slyly as she invites Rue to partake in a double smother that would sandwich Sunni between the two well endowed women's cleavage.
While not Rue's plan, the smaller thug isn't opposed to joining in on anything and promptly presses her body Trisha's. More camera flashes as Sunni is encased in flesh. The struggle, what little ther is, is done quickly. Rue pouts. “I'm sorry, Boo. I worked her over too hard. But we have a spare,” she says, motioning to Trixie.
“You also have a problem,” the referee yells, pointing outside the ring. Advancing – and fast – are three familiar, VERY angry, faces – Aloisia Berge, Kelli Love and Selia Brach. Aloisia clutches a wrench while Kelli apparently grabbed a street broom from one of the arena's janitors and is unscrewing the brush to just have a long, wooden pole. Behind them, more security than either Belle or MacKenna are comfortable with.
ALOISIA BERGE:
KELLI LOVE:
SELIA BRACH:
Trisha drops the smother, Rue awkwardly left holding the limp Californian up. Belle scoops up Moxie, lifting the battered goth into a gorilla press as the trio approach the ring. The Minnesota Monster throws Trixie's dead weight over the top rope, the unconscious woman colliding with her teammates and toppling Aloisia and Kelli as they awkwardly try to catch or cushion their friend's fall. And with that, Trisha slips under the bottom rope, hoping to escape in the confusion, leaving Rue awkwardly clutching the now glowing Sunni Masters by limp arms.
Rue looks at Sunni, looks back at Trisha, who is moving quickly away from the ring, and tosses Sunni in the direction Trixie went before beating a hasty retreat. Blowing kisses all the way.
At ringside, medics come to check on Sunni and Trixie. Fuming, Aloisia beats the wrench against the side of the ringpost only to have a security guard yank it from her. She gets into the young man's face.
“Oh, yes, disarm me!” she yells. “Good job! Earn your paycheck! Where was that bravery and sense of duty while those animals were beating these two senseless? Or when we were locked in the locker room and unable to come to their aid?”
The security guard shifts uneasily. Kelli puts a hand on Aloisia's shoulder.
“They're going to be okay,” the normally perky blonde promises. “That's all that matters.”
Aloisia whirls on Kelli. “No, it isn't. This nonsense happens too often in FAWN. Trisha and Rue have no basic sense of decency! But if it wasn't them, it would be one of the other malcontents oozing around backstage! This is idiotic!” Aloisia closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “I am sorry, Kelli. It's just... Moxie isn't here because of Trisha and--”
“Moxie will be back,” Kelli promises. “She's tough. So is Trixie. And Sunni....” Kelli trails off, thinking off all she watched on monitors before this.
“Yeah,” Selia whispers. “Yeah.”
Aloisia waves a hand. “Just as well! You heard what she said about Trixie,” she barks. “No respect! Someone runs to your aid and you have a chance to save them--”
Kelli places a hand on Aloisia's arm. “If she's pushed back against Rue, you really think she'd keep her word? Even if she wanted to, you think Trisha would let her?”
“Rue's a lap dog,” Selia adds. “She does what she's told. Sunni? She's as green as me. She did what she had to save herself after getting torn apart.”
Aloisia gazes towards the tiny weightlifter. “Would YOU have done the same thing?”
Selia hadn't prepared for that question. She thinks a bit, and her shoulders slump. “No. Probably not.” She quietly steps away and crouches next to the medic tending to Sunni.
Another medic motions to Aloisia and Kelli. “Ms. Decker's coming around. We want to take her back and look her over.” Kelli and Aloisia assist him lifting Trixie onto a stretcher.
A dazed Trixie looks up at them. “Sunni okay?”
Aloisia snorts, but Kelli replies as sweetly as possible. “She'll be okay. You... you've got too big a heart.”
“You...” Trixie rambles almost drunkenly, “... have too big of boobs. I... I will trade you.”
Kelli brushes Trixie's hair from her face. “Sorry, hon. They're real and attached.”
As the medics wheel her up the aisle, Trixie calls back as best she can, “Fine, joint custody. My hands get them every other weekend and Christmas.”