Post by alyadmirer on Jul 15, 2016 23:31:42 GMT
The guy who coordinated things backstage had assigned someone to keep an eye on Anna till it was time for her entrance. Some bored college chick who hadn't looked up from her phone in minutes. Since the finish of the last match it had been like that every time Anna was on site. Protection for Sammain, she thought of it as.
Finally she was called over to the curtain. As she walked away the college chick stopped scrolling and smirked at her. “You know I saw you get bageled at Miami one year. Autumn's gonna beat the fuck out of you.”
Anna fumed, but before she could go back and deal with the bitch the announcer was into his intro. "Ladies and gentlemen the following contest is scheduled for one fall with a twenty minute time limit. Introducing first, trom Islington, London, she stands five feet seven inches tall and weighs in at one hundred thirty pounds, ANNA SHARPE!”
She wore her usual racerback tank and yoga shorts, a means-business outfit that showed off the power in her shoulders. That it stretched tight round her bum was the only concession to the audience, and even that was mostly pragmatic in that she didn't want her movement restricted.
ANNA SHARPE:
This time around just the opening bars of her theme got the crowd going, the jeers so loud and so relentless she felt a rush of gratitude at the sight of someone near the front wearing a shirt with her face on it. Alas, the asshole was wearing it ironically; Orlando's sole resident hipster gave her the finger when she made eye contact, shouting something pro-Autumn that got lost in the booing. It was the shirt with her name misspelled too.
Already pissed, she snatched a mic on her way into the ring and once the music ended raised it to her lips. “Last time, I punched Autumn in the face until she could barely remember who she was, which given what a small, miserable life she's made for herself seems like a positive, but hey….” The crowd filled the silence with a chant of “DRAGON MEAT!” which Anna thought could be read two different ways, although it was clear which way they intended it. “Unfortunately the takeaway from it all seems to have been the green puke she spat in my face. So tonight I'll make things a little more memorable. Get out here Sammain, you smug piece of shit.”
The crowd, who’d quickly come to love hating Anna as much as any other heel on the roster, was still giving it to the gym rat Briton with both barrels when lights went out with a sighed ‘Fwoosh’. The blackness was immediately pricked a thousand times over by the glow of lighters and phones, not to mention the ‘tron, which glowed to life just as ‘Clap For the Killers’ escaped the speakers.
Over this growing rumble, the Announcer resumed his duties. “And introducing her opponent, hailing from Tokyo Japan, she stands at one point seven meters tall and weighs in at fifty-nine point eight kilograms. She is the Dragon of Tokyo, the Joshi Kicking Machine, THIS IS… AUTUMN SAMMAIN!”
AUTUMN SAMMAIN:
Autumn came through the curtain at the sound of her name and immediately launched into a brutal barrage of lighting fast punches, then followed up with several more kicks, the last of which cut through the air like a particularly limber guillotine. Settling back to a zen-like stillness when the kata was finished, Sammain raised her left thumb to her throat and drew it across in a slow slash. With that the lights came up and she started toward the ring.
Cool, calm and collected despite her broiling disdain for the woman in the ring, the Dragon stuck to the center of the aisle, but occasionally angled from one side or another to swat the hands of fans who reached for her. Tonight she wore a jett black sports bra and matching bottoms which were all but obscured by the Joshi style ‘skirt’ that ended well above the knee. This garment was also dead black, save for several electric green slashes running from north to south. The rest of her outfit consisted of black kneepads, matching boots and fingerless green gloves that reached to just below her elbows.
Disgust growing more apparent as she closed in on the ring, Sammain ignored the steps in favor of reaching the apron in a single nimble leap. In the next instant she’d leapt to the corner and from there vaulted to a spot near the center of the squared circle. Then and only then did she raise her fist and rend the air with her war cry, a shrill, brutal sound that earned streamers from the FAWNatics and a hateful sneer from Sharpe. “Took the best you had to offer the first time we met, Sharpe.” Autumn said over the roar of the sold out crowd. “And I wasn’t impressed. Tonight you take MY worst. And it’s going to break you.”
Anna’s stormed off the buckles and chested into the brunette hard enough to knock her back a half step. “You haven’t seen my worst, twat. You’d still be in the hospital if you had.”
Far too interested in talking trash to bother with staying in their corners for final inspections, Autumn and Anna went right on slinging verbal Haymakers while poor Nick Castle tried his best to run through the pre-match spiel. “Glad the swelling’s gone down, cunt.” Sharpe noted in regards to the brunette’s right eye. “I want you to see every bit of the beating coming your way. How’s your nose? I want you to get a really good sniff when I’m sitting on your flat, fugly face.”
“See you managed to scrub all the green off your face.” Sammain said by way of reply. “Didn’t scrub hard enough to get the loser stench off. But then, that’s seeping from your pores, isn’t it, slut?”
The Englishwoman chested in on her foe, forcing Autumn to do the same so she didn’t lose ground. “I’m going to MAUL you tonight, Sammain. And I’m going to do it in such a way that these troglodytes will never forget it.”
The Dragon’s lips curled up ever so slightly. “Oh, you mean like how I spanked Mason’s ass so hard she didn’t stop crying until two the next mor--”
The bell CLANGED and Sharpe shoved her opponent as hard as she could. Autumn flew backward but adjusted in mid-air, landing on her shoulders and rolling back to verticality in a flawless somersault. “You really are a candy-ass, Sharpe.” the brunette said from over raised fists. “The only thing softer than your lobs are your punches.”
“F*cking bytch.” Sharpe came forward with her dukes up only to dip low and jam her shoulder into opposing tummy. Wrapping her arms around Sammain’s upper thighs, the Englishwoman hoisted Autumn up like a sack of laundry and stomped to the nearest corner, where she BWUUUNGED her into the thinly-padded turnbuckles. Shoulderblocks were tempting, but Anna learned they got the official’s attention way too fast, so she straightened up and pwak-pwak-pwak-PWAAAKED half a dozen Back Elbow Smashes into the side of her opponent’s head.
Autumn grimaced, reached up to snag her neck in a Muy-Thai style clasp, so Sharpe kneed her in the belly, then climbed onto the second rope. Burying one hand in the Phenom’s hair, she wrenched her head backward and cocked the other into a fist. “So, you want to participate in her destruction?” she snapped at the fans within sound of her voice. “Then make yourselves useful and count along!”
The FAWNatics couldn’t bear taking orders from Anna Sharpe, yet certain traditions simply couldn’t be ignored, so they raised their voices to toll off the punches she rained on Autumn’s forehead. ’ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE! SIX! SEVEN! EIGHT! NINE!’
Anna paused for a moment to plant a kiss on her knuckles and it ended up costing her because Sammain dipped down and slid between her legs as neat as you please. Swinging into position off the blonde’s left side, Autumn flicked her right leg up n’ across to THWHACK her rival across the lower back! Sharpe cried out, but didn’t relinquish her perch, so Sammain pounded half a dozen left-right-left punches off those proud gym toned glutes, then grabbed hold of Anna’s kneepads and pulled hard.
The former tennis player fell and landed on her feet, unfortunately her forehead BWUNGED against the top turnbuckle. Autumn was right there to help though, she spun Sharpe around in a half circle and promptly laid half a dozen high kicks across the scooped neckline of that Racerback tank-top. “You want something people will remember, sweetheart?” Autumn taunted. “Try something like this.”
Gripping the top rope to Anna’s right in both hands, Sammain brought up her right leg and stuffed it under the Briton’s chin, throttling the air from her lungs! Anna stamped her feet and gurgled, but really didn’t understand the severity of the situation until Autumn lowered her right hand and affixed it to the center of the blonde’s strappy black trunks.
“AAAAARRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH! GET ‘ER OFFA ME, DAMMIT!” she rasped to the official.
Knowing her fun in the corner was likely to be severely constrained, Autumn returned herself to two-footedness and guided her wheezing foe along the ropes without the official needing to intervene, Anna made briefly pliant by the grip on her crotch. Getting in close, the Dragon walked Sharpe back into the ropes and SQUEEZED her fingers down low, wobbling the Brit's legs enough to slump her to a seat on the middle rope. Sammain gave a contended sigh and tilted her head so she could grind foreheads from this dominant angle. “Go ahead and cry if you want, pussy,” she murmured.
Just like Sammain planned it, Anna's eyes popped open at the taunt, bright with pain and hate. “Fuck you, you arrogaEEHHH” Her reply cut off abruptly when Autumn puffed up her cheeks and made as if to blow. Panicked at the though of another dose of whatever the hell that green stuff was, the beleaguered blonde recoiled as far as the ropes' elasticity would let her, twisting her head to one side and raising her arms in front of her face.
The visual couldn't have been more perfect.
Letting go the crotch claw, Autumn slowly let out her breath into the barrier of Sharpe's hands before bursting into a round of derisive laughter, loud and unrestrained. “Pussy,” she said again.
Anna growled, whirling round with her fist aimed at that taunting mouth, but Autumn put a forearm up and blocked the wild Haymaker. A couple of lighting quick kicks to the back of Anna's leg put her on one knee, grabbing at the middle rope for balance. Sammain got in behind her and slipped both arms into place to trap the Brit in a Full Nelson. “You fight about as well as your slut, Sharpe. At least Caity's ass can sell a few tickets. This sack of shit has them asking for refunds.”
Working the combustible blonde's psyche like she'd trained all those years as a psychiatrist and not a pugilist, Autumn followed up the trash talk by humping Anna's butt, two quick hip thrusts that had the Brit shrieking with frustrated rage, before ripping her off her feet with a Dragon Suplex. The official had slapped out…
DRAGON SUPLEX:
ONE…
Before Anna even figured out she was being pinned, but she quickly wriggled and twisted her way loose and she was on her feet at the same time as Sammain, her head still full of memories of the mist. There was a moment back on the Tour, she'd been happily punching out an umpire-f*cking Ukrainian skank when out of nowhere the bytch's twin sister and also doubles partner slugged her in the back of the head with a solid glass trophy, left her lying there facedown on the tiles. But the damned mist had been even more unexpected that that.
“Where is it, cunt? Huh?” She had her fingers in Autumn's mouth, the two of them tumbling into the ropes as Anna searched for that hidden capsule, claws tearing vivid tracks in the Joshi Phenom's gums. “AHHHH! F*cker!” Unsurprisingly, it didn't take long for Sammain to bite down, so Sharpe pulled her hands loose and switched to a hair pull. Autumn did the same, and they worked on tearing out hanks while twisting a tornado's path along the edge of the ring. “It's in your knickers, isn't it,” Anna snarled. “The one place no-one goes.”
“Your nose is going there, bitch,” Sammain panted back, grunting as she swung Anna hard into the corner. "Until you tap out on my ass." Already fearing he'd lost control of this one, Castle went in to pry the two women apart when their legs tangled together and they fell through the ropes, bouncing off the apron and down to the floor with a THUD! Being on the bottom at the time of impact Anna took the worst of things, pinned beneath Sammain's bony body by the hard landing, the breath knocked out of her. They'd both lost their grip on the other's hair, both lost some hair too, dirty blonde and brunette strands stuck to hot palms. Autumn scrambled off her crash pad and wiped those strands onto her skirt like they burned.
Once her hands were suitably skank-free, Autumn returned her attention to Anna, who’d made her way to all fours in the interim. She reached for the Briton, then drew back, thinking better of it. A low whistle turned Sharpe’s head in her direction, a lapse in judgment that cost the blonde a short, sharp kick in the face. Helping herself to Anna’s hair only after the strike put her forehead on the floor, the Joshi Phenom hauled her adversary to boot-leather, then switched her grip to shoulder and hip.
“Took me a while, but I figured out the root of your problem, Sharpe.”
The words were barely out of the brunette’s mouth when she took two giant steps forward and hurled Anna into the steel guardrail. Anna’s struck it shoulder-first, the BWAAAAANG not nearly loud enough to cover the tuff tyro’s groan of pain.
Pleased to see the mouthy tramp make the effort to hook an arm over the barrier, Autumn snatched a double handful of hair and hauled her up just enough to force Sharpe’s throat down atop the barrier. Then, with one hand on Anna’s upper back and the other gripping the rail for support, Sammain laid her right shin across the back of Sharpe’s neck and leaaaaaaaaaaaned down with all her weight. The result was immediate as it was obvious, the Englishwoman kicking and thrashing, expelling tremendous amounts of energy to escape the illegal stranglehold.
Autumn paid the resistance minimal attention, she had a point to make, after all. “Your problem is that you expect a modicum of physical talent to translate into instant success. That sort of attitude might make you Queen Bytch in a Hot Yoga class, but it won’t make you a successful tennis player… or a passable wrestler.” Fighting for every breath now, Anna reached up in search of that hateful voice, only to yowl when Sammain snatched her fingers and bent them back toward her wrist. Sammain smiled and slapped the back of her foe’s head several times, making sure to thoroughly muss the blonde’s hair. “You can’t win a fight. You can’t put on a show. And you can’t beat--”
“C’mon Autumn, get off her neck. That’s cheap!” Castle called from the edge of the ring.
Sammain looked over her shoulder, but didn’t relinquish any of the pressure on her mount. “I haven’t heard your count, Castle. Why shouldn’t I keep throttling this bytch?”
“Brass told me to be lenient with count outs and DQ’s after the finish of your first bout. Doesn’t mean I’m going to let you strangle her to death. Get it back in the ring.”
Autumn sighed in disgust. “Fine.” She slipped a hand into Sharpe’s hair before removing the encroaching knee. “It’s your lucky day, Anna. Nick won’t let me cripple EEERRRRRRGGGHHHHH!”
Anna rounded on her quicker than Sammain thought possible and THWHACKED her with a Haymaker considerably augmented by the nearly full plastic cup she’d commandeered from a front row fan. The cheap (albeit grossly overpriced) beer soaked Autumn from forehead to navel, leaving her stumbling backward and pawing at her be-sudsed features.
Her breath coming in great, rasping peals, Sharpe tossed the cup down, clamped that hand down on the back of Autumn’s neck and jerked her into a THWHAPPING Forearm Smash across the mouth. The Dragon shivered but didn’t do down, which was fine with Anna. She wanted the skinny cunt’s legs to hold as long as they possibly could.
“So you want me to put on a show, Autumn?” she croaked. “You want me to make you a fucking SPECTACLE? Be careful what you wish for, twat.”
Shifting her attention just long enough to spot another of those atrocious plastic cups, Anna liberated it from the owner and helped herself to a long pull. It tasted like cold horse piss (what was it with American’s freezing their bloody beer?) but Sharpe held it just long enough to lean in close and PFWOOOOOOSSSHHH her very own mist into the brunette’s face!
“And so ends act one.” Anna handed the beer back to whatever idiot she’d taken it from, then wiped the last of that terrible brew off her lips. “Onto act two, where it gets really interesting.”
The watered-down booze wasn't as incapacitating as the green shit, but no matter, Autumn was still too preoccupied with wiping her eyes and nose to notice Anna was coming for her skirt. “Bytch. Don't even think abouAAAHHHHH!” Tugged and pulled off balance, she swung at the blonde's blurred shape and missed high, spinning herself around and allowing Anna to lift and then deposit her on the Brit's extended knee, the Atomic Drop only the first repayment for Sammain's earlier Crotch Claw.
Yelping with satisfaction as she liberated the skirt from its role as guardian of the shameful secret that was Autumn's booty, Anna went to loop it round her neck, a thorough throttling a much more noble use of fabric. But as Sammain was dragged from all fours to her knees her elbow shot back, driving into the Brit's workout-hard belly. “OOFFHH!” “OOFFGGHH!” “OOOOFFF!” “UUFFF!” “UUFFFFPPHHH!” It took four more of the same to buckle Sharpe's legs, her grunts of discomfort blowing cold across Autumn's beer-soaked scalp. Once they were at an equal elevation Autumn snatched the skirt from Anna's limp fingers and turned around on her knees before lowering her head and scrubbing her dripping hair in Anna's face. Not the most fearsome of attacks, but back in the ring Castle had finally begun a count, and Autumn didn't want to be tardy.
“You do have some good ideas, Princess” she allowed, hurrying to her feet and wrapping the fought-over skirt around Anna's throat. Still trying to blink the last of the suds from her eyes, and with an ache in her crotch from the Drop, she dragged the choking and coughing Brit across the floor with too much speed for Anna's scrabbling feet to gain purchase. “In you go.”
Sharpe hissed when Autumn used the waistband of her shorts to sling her back into the ring, the resulting wedgie showing off most of that powerful backside and earning Anna possibly the first moments of fan approval in her nascent FAWN career. As for Autumn, she only ducked her head under the bottom rope long enough to end the threat of a count-out. That and fill her hands with Anna's hair.
“How about we keep it inside the ropes for a while,” the official said, although without too much hope. The Joshi Phenom in full cry was as willful as anyone on the roster.
Autumn at least gave the guy an understanding smile before disregarding him entirely. “This piece of shyt isn't fit to share the same ring with me, Nick. I know you can't say that but it's true. So while she's in there, I stay out here.”
“Okay. But you know what's gonna happen next.”
Autumn finished dragging Anna beneath the ropes as the count restarted. The Brit's throat was marked with a red welt where Autumn had choked her, but give her credit for tenacity, as soon as her arms were clear she reached up to return the hair-pulling. Tugged in close, Autumn saw her own hate reflected back at her in Anna's eyes and bared her teeth in a savage smile.
“That's right Sharpe, keep fighting. I'm not finished with you yet.”
“F*CK YOU! I hope you know a therapist who comes cheap, because this ends with you stripped to your boots, ten thousand people booing the sight of your naked body,” Anna snarled.
Autumn drove a series of Forearms into the blonde's rack and shook herself loose to end their latest exchange of pleasantries. Still, she'd got what she wanted, namely Anna's head hanging down over the edge of the apron.
So very vulnerable.
Backing up as far as the steps didn't give her all that much room, but the Yakuza Kick still had some impressive momentum behind it when sole met cheek with a hefty SLAP. The front row was full of Sammain supporters and even they sucked in their breath at the brutal impact. Autumn finished up with her arms wrapped round the opposite ringpost, belly trembling with adrenalin as she looked back at her foe. Anna had been spun parallel to the ring edge. She rolled onto her belly, moaning, her arm hanging down, fingers twisting the fabric skirt.
Her eyes on those fluttering digits, Autumn stalked out onto the mat. “Just a little bit higher, bytch,” she murmured. As if it had been a command, Anna moved her hand. “There's a girl.”
Autumn's Standing Dropkick crushed the Brit's fingers against the side of the ring. Anna shrieked. Her feet kicked against the canvas and she shoved her wounded hand between her thighs as if she could squeeze away the pain.
On one knee after the Dropkick, Sammain raked a hand through her beer-soaked locks and flicked a fine mist in Anna’s general direction. The disgust and anger still clear on her face despite the domination of the last couple minutes, the Joshi Phenom stood up, slid under the bottom rope and sidled in just beside the grounded Englishwoman. Right hand crooked into a claw, Sammain applied it to Sharpe’s cheeks and squeezed hard, distending her pretty features in a humiliating ‘fish face’. “Look at me, Anna.”
Anna did, not that she had much choice.
“Beg.” Sammain said simply. “Beg for mercy and I won’t make you wear your slutty shorts like a mask.”
“Guuuuhhhh….. go fug yurself twad.” the blonde rasped through her distended lips. “Im gonna kill GUURRRHHHHH!”
Autumn slid her hand south and squeezed Anna’s throat hard enough to show white at the knuckles. “You’re beaten.” Sammain growled, her attention still zeroed in on Sharpe despite the looming presence of the official. “Admit it while you can still crawl away under your own powGRRRRRHHHHHHH!”
Anna’s uninjured hand flew up, buried itself in Autumn’s hair and wrenched her head to one side. Oxygen was too precious to waste on words, so the Briton simply grinned, a hateful, feral thing that illustrated her refusal perfectly.
“Let go, ladies.” Castle said when blonde and brunette showed no inclination to break their illegal grips. “Come on now, don’t make me--- dammit Autumn!”
Unwilling to show Sharpe even the tiniest bit of leeway, Sammain laid claim to her rival’s other wrist, jerked that hand close and sank her teeth into Anna’s sore fingers! Sharpe howled, let go of the brunette’s hair and slapped furiously at Autumn’s face in an effort to free her digits from that gnashing maw. The Dragon soaked up these shots as best she could, the sting in her cheeks was a small price to pay to make Sharpe suffer until the referee reached ‘FOUR!’ on his count. Autumn spat the fingers out and made a show of licking her lips even as Anna barrel-rolled her way to the center of the squared circle, that mangled hand wedged snug between her chest and the canvas.
“What’re you doing, Autumn?” Nick asked. “You’re better than this.”
“But she’s not. That woman’s a no-talent bytch who shyt on my life’s work. So I’m going to punish her until she learns the proper respect… or slinks away in shame.”
To that end, the slender brunette crawled over to her vulnerable adversary and quickly settled into a rude seat on the back of her skull. Sharpe bucked and fought at once, but Autumn tucked the soles of her boots against the blonde’s head and she subdued the former tennis player with several hard punches to the ribs. “You’ve talked a lot of trash about my ass, Anna. Not sure if you can hear the crowd at the moment, but they certainly seem to enjoy watching me grind on the back of your neck.” She proved as much by sweeping her undercarriage up & down, a rolling, serpentine display that made Anna groan with disgust and humiliation.
“Know what else they’re gonna like?”
Sharpe didn’t know or care, at least not until she felt the hateful scarecrow’s fingers slip into the leg holes of her sweat-slicked togs. “NOOOOO!” Anna barked as forcefully as she could, given her position. “DON’T YOU OOOOOWWWWWWWW FAAAAAAAAAAHK!”
Autumn split her opponent’s cheeks with a wedgie so brutal it transformed Sharpe’s relatively conservative briefs into a thong worthy of Miriam Gaiman. Anna twisted like a snake with a broken back, her hands reaching blindly back in hopes of disrupting the savage gluteal sawing. But Sammain’s perch made a viable counter nigh impossible and after perhaps fifteen seconds the Briton’s left hand was hovering six inches above the canvas.
Seeing this, Autumn abruptly released the wedgie and got to her feet, allowing Sharpe to curl into a ball and slowly, gingerly, pluck the worst of the traitorous lycra from her between her cheeks. She was in the midst of breathing a sigh of relief when the domineering Dragon put a boot against the side of her head and pressed down ever so slightly.
“I know you’re busy blinking back tears.” Sammain murmured softly. “So let me tell you what you’re missing. There’s a whole arena of fans cheering themselves hoarse because my ‘bony ass’ almost made you submit to a f*cking wedgie. Now get up or get out of my ring.”
In her first career Anna had been a quitter. Near the end of matches she stopped trying, figuring it was better to make it look like you didn't care than give your all and lose and so confirm that the other woman was better. The difference here was the other woman wasn't better. The other woman was Autumn Sammain. The other women were all the rest of the glorified fantasists cluttering the FAWN roster.
“Get the f*ck off me.” Anna growled. She curled her injured fingers into a fist and exhaled in relief that she could do it. Nothing was broken.
For answer Autumn ground her foot a little, twisting like she was putting out a cigarette. But, that little sign of disrespect done, she did back off and let Anna rise to her feet. “Want out Sharpe?” Sammain nodded her head at the ropes, her taunting smile freezing into something colder as she watched the Brit finish picking her bottoms out of her crack. “Then get the f*ck out. I promise, there isn't a single person here who wouldn't be glad to see you go.”
“You. Smug. F*cking. Bitch.” Anna went in swinging, hurting hand be damned.
The Dragon had preternatural instincts, astonishing reflexes and the flexibility of a rubber band. But she also had limited real estate to work with. She parried, slipped or otherwise avoided shot after shot after shot, until her back hit the ropes. Then Sharpe's fists got through in a rush, beating some pink into Autumn's drum-tight tum. Tempted to flip her around and do some work on her kidneys, Anna elected instead to make use of her thus far neglected power advantage. She stuffed Autumn's head between her legs, and after lifting and spinning the brunette onto her shoulders she endured the faceful of sweaty crotch long enough to turn and hurl Autumn down to the canvas with a Powerbomb.
The follow up cover didn't even last long enough for the official to slap the mat, Autumn twisting her shoulder up with so much torque she rolled right over onto her belly, the Brit still pinned to her back. “If you think that was enough to beat me you really have no clue what you're doing, Princess,” she panted.
But Anna had a plan, one that involved crushing Sammain's head into pulp between her legs. Grabbing a handful of brunette hair she slithered onto the canvas, tugging Autumn into position before clamping down hard with the Headscissors.
“I should have known it wasn't worth trying to make you ashamed.” Sammain probably couldn't hear it, what with her ears wrapped in thigh muscle. Anna went ahead and said her piece anyway. “Spanked and scratched and bit while you brayed about embodying the spirit of wrestling? Called me out then went after my girl instead like a bully and a pussy? No wonder you aren't embarrassed to lug around that bony lump – you're delusional, probably look at yourself in the mirror and think you've got a bum like Caity's.”
They'd been handfighting throughout her little speech. Finally Autumn managed to wrench her fingers loose of Anna's and begin pounding fists into the blonde's ribs. Sharpe grunted, stoic, watching as Autumn slowly worked her knees underneath her. The bytch clearly had some scheme in mind, so Anna preempted it by giving up the Scissors and kicking Autumn out from between her legs like a regrettable one-night stand. Sorely tempted to make some comment about the ugly flush in Sammain's cheeks she settled instead for filling both hands with beer-damp brunette hair and bringing the two of them back to their feet.
“Remind me to show you a real Scissors befoAAAHHHH” Anna cut off the taunt with a Headbutt and felt the wobble in the Dragon's strong legs through the grip on her hair. Leading her foe to the nearest corner, the Brit drove Sammain's forehead into the turnbuckle.
“Last time I had you like this I beat you to sleep.” Pressed in tight belly to back, Anna gripped the ropes on either side of them and savored the feeling of her body dominating Autumn's. “You're going to wish I did that again.”
Threat delivered, she stepped out and SMASHED a series of thwacking Forearm Smashes into the brunette's sweat-shiny back. Autumn grunted but stayed upright, so Anna grabbed her arm and turned her round and drove a shoulder into her gut. Getting Autumn off her feet was proving tough, but it got easier when she sagged against the turnbuckle – then Anna could stomp her chest. Once her butt hit the canvas Anna took off for the opposite corner.
From the start the Bronco Buster had been her number one go-to point regarding the stupidity of wrestling. So you walk away from her, giving her time to recover, then come charging in both feet off the floor with your pussy aimed at a steel post. Because that seems sensible.
It still didn't seem all that sensible. But it did seem like the perfect way to humiliate Autumn Sammain. So she broke into a run.
Taking flight from a few steps out, Sharpe kicked her legs up n’ out in that jaunty, dangerous ‘V’ that always got a reaction no matter who threw the move. Jaw clenched against what she felt was an inevitable reversal of fortune, Anna actually crowed maniacal joy when her undercarriage THWHUMPED into Sammain’s mouth and nose. Patently astounded by just how goddamned hard this stupid move hit (NO ONE could fake the ‘whoosh’ of air leaving the skinny bytch’s lungs, Anna snatched hold of the top rope in both hands and proceeded to bust Sammain’s bust with her tush, the delighted Englishwoman just BOUNCING on the miserable brunette’s chest until the ref started his count.
Instinct told her keep on battering until ‘FOUR’ but a better idea crossed her mind immediately thereafter. Halving her control on the uppermost strand, Sharpe buried that free hand in Autumn’s hair and pulled her forward even as she squeeeeeeeeeeeeeezed the Scissors as hard as she could. “That’s right, scream! SCREAM!” Sharpe demanded even as she did her level best to break the Dragon’s nose with nothing but her pubic bone. She might’ve succeeded given world enough and time, alas Nick finally reached ‘FOUR!’, forcing a reluctant break.
A month ago she would’ve finished the job without a second thought, but that was before Caity. That was before the Green Mist. Now there was no way she’d let this bag of sticks walk away with another win at her expense, even if it was a disqualification. Sliding free of her mount was easier than expected, meaning Sammain was still sucking wind when Anna stood up and planted a boot against the side of her face.
“Lick my boot, slag. Lick it right now and I’ll put you out of your--”
Autumn slapped it aside and drilled a rather painful little kick into Sharpe’s opposite leg. “Get Mason to do it..” the Dragon sneered. “She can’t fight for shyt, might as well get some NNNGGGGHHH!”
Sharpe dropped to one knee, conveniently stuffing it into her rival’s crotch. “New rule, cunt. Every time you say her name, I put tears in your eyes. Got it?”
No response from Autumn, so Anna helped herself to a double handful of hair and hauled the flagging fighter to her feet. Quite aware of how she’d started to dominate once she confined the tricksy slut to tighter quarters, Sharpe hooked an arm over Sammain’s shoulder, slipped the other arm through opposing thighs and hoisted her up for a Scoop Slam. But the Slam didn’t come, rather she stepped in and forced Autumn against the turnbuckles hard enough to make her gasp. T’was music to Anna’s ears, Sammain’s hurt made it that much easier for her to hook the brunette’s legs under the top turnbuckle.
“Just so you know,” the ballistic Brit put a hand on the center of her rival’s togs and treated her to a gentle rub, “I’m going to RUIN you, Autumn.”
The brunette was smart enough to remain silent even after Anna gave her junk a rude squeeze. Showing her back on the inverted idiot, Sharpe jogged across the squared circle, swatted the opposite turnbuckle, then pulled an about-face and raced down her own back-trail. No Bronco Buster this time, Anna closed in with every intention of driving her fist squarely into the Dragon’s gro--’OOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!’ Jaws dropped all over the arena when Autumn ‘crunched’ up from her spot at the base of the Tree and laced her hands behind Anna’s noggin in a Three Quarters Facelock. In the next instant she pulled one free loose of its confinement, braced against the top buckle and pushed off into an Ace Crusher that THAWHUNKED Anna down flat on her face! Completely unprepared for the innovative counter, Sharpe bounced up a few inches before settling down again, both arms laced over the back of her head while one foot tapped an erratic tattoo on the canvas.
TREE OF WOE ACE CRUSHER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=NpKmMt42N1I
Beside her, Autumn Sammain rolled to one knee and swiped hair off her forehead. “You wanna get handsy, gym-rat? Then you’ll like this.”
Shoveling Sharpe over onto her back with a nudge from one boot, the Gaijin Extraordinaire swung around to her foe’s feet, laid claim to each ankle and quickly draaaaaaaaagged her to the corner she’d just escaped. Nick held his tongue up until the moment Autumn dropped Anna’s legs and bailed to the floor. “What’re you doin’, Autumn?” He had a feeling he already knew and it only grew stronger when Sammain reached under the bottom rope to reclaim those ankles. “Just another lesson, Nick. Maybe this one will actually stick.” The words were still on her lips when she dipped down and stepped backward to THWHUMP Sharpe’s womanhood into the unforgiving steel!
Anna shrieked and sat up, hands heading south even as Sammain folded her left leg around the post. Laying Anna’s crooked gam atop her right thigh, Autumn raised her own right leg, laid it atop the exposed limb and dropped straight back to secure a hideously augmented Figure Four Leglock!
RINGPOST FIGURE FOUR:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=bgkcZp7G334
“TWENTY SECOND COUNT ON THE FLOOR, CASTLE!” Sammain bellowed over Sharpe’s ear-splitting shrieks. “I’VE GOT TWENTY LOOOOOONG SECONDS TO MAKE THIS BYTCH SUFFER!”
That was debatable, but Autumn was happy enough to debate it if it meant delaying the start of the count. Sharpe wouldn't hold out for twenty but the racket-smashing slut was at least stubborn, and five seconds might not be enough to wring a surrender out of her.
“She's in the corner Autumn. You know damn well what the deal is.”
“BULLSHYT! THE SLUT DOESN'T WANT YOUR HELP.”
That too was debatable. Anna had bitten into the crook of her arm to stop herself screaming and was holding on desperately to the rope like she thought that would get her free. Still, Castle answered the charge rather than beginning a count
“I'm not gonna let you cripple her. You know that.”
Autumn gritted her teeth, hung upside down, sweat running into her hairline. Resigned to getting five, she could only hope the delay she'd engineered would be enough.
“Give up Anna. Give up or you won't be able to walk.”
To Sammain's fury Sharpe had managed to master herself somewhat. By the time Castle reached “THREE!”, the dirty blonde cardio machine was quietly sobbing, panting for breath, but there was resolve in the way her fists clenched, like she wouldn't even let her fingers uncurl in case they started reaching unbidden for the canvas.
So, loud though the crowd was yelling “TAP! TAP! TAP!”, Autumn could almost feel it through her and Anna's entangled legs; the bytch wasn't going to quit.
Castle dragged out those last moments as long as he dared – a second consecutive DQ finish wouldn't sit well with anyone – and when the bell finally rang Autumn thought she'd rationalized the loss in her mind by telling herself she'd chosen it herself, a bit of mental gymnastics that lasted until the announcement of Anna's name in too close proximity to the word winner.
“Bullshyt you're a winner, bitch,” the thwarted Dragon muttered. Dropping to the floor only to pop straight back to her feet, she buried her hands in Anna's hair and pulled Sharpe under the bottom rope. Smiling a grim smile when the Brit's vaunted legs buckled on landing, Autumn took the opportunity to pound a few unanswered shots into the kneeling slut's forehead. “Stay there Castle,” she warned the official, who was loitering above them in the ring. “They'll be out here soon enough to spoil things.”
In fact, someone was already out there.
CAITY MASON:
Caity Mason wore a black thong and the tiniest scrap of a red bikini top, which meant she got less disapproval from the crowd than would normally be the case for someone interrupting their favorite in the middle of dispensing justice. The jiggle of her tits and ass helped plenty too.
Not one to be caught unaware often, Autumn was partway to muscling Anna's limp form into position for a Piledriver when she picked up on the buzz in the arena. Dropping the Brit in an untidy heap she saw Castle down on the canvas and turned to deliver a perfectly timed Super Kick that caught Anna's would-be rescuer SMACK on the jaw. Caity Bambi-on-iced her way across the floor and fell against the barrier, and Sammain followed her in with a Clothesline BLASTED across her jutting chest, hard enough to knock Mason over the railing.
“Thanks Autumn,” someone called out, grateful for the gift, but Autumn was already whirling around and charging across the floor to where Sharpe was pushing to one knee. The Shining Wizard took her in the chin and flattened her, and there was a swelling cheer from the crowd in appreciation of how well the brunette was playing the numbers game. Autumn let loose with a war cry in response, before turning her attention back to Caity, who'd climbed over the barrier and was running a clawed hand through her glossy black hair.
“Gonna give you my tits, you arrogant twat.”
Sammain glanced at the rookie's formidable rack and smirked. The trip over the rail had rearranged Caity's top enough to free her nipple.
“Looks like you've already given them to soUUNNGGHHH!” Anna's curled forearm drove hard into the Dragon's crotch. She sank to the floor and Caity was on her in an instant, stomping away at any available body part.
“Can you stand up?” Mason asked of her girl, while using her heel to hack a purple bruise in Autumn's thigh. “Sadistic f*cking bytch.”
With the aid of the ring Anna could. Wincing at the pain in her legs she helped Caity lift Sammain to her feet. Together they hurled her CRASHING into the steel steps. As she lay moaning in the wreckage, Anna glanced up the ramp to the entrance. No one. They still had time. The booing was almost deafening. Both she and Caity were being pelted with paper cups, though thankfully most were empty - the crowd were a frugal bunch. She tried to tune it all out, think only of Sammain's humiliation.
“Hop up.” Sharpe slapped the apron and Caity boosted herself to a seat. Anna limped over to where Autumn lay ass up on the ruined steps. “You're lucky I don't strip you of every last stitch,” she snarled. She settled for pulling Sammain's bottoms down to her thighs, baring her backside. The groggy Dragon reached back to try preserve her modesty while Anna took her by the scruff and led her to where Caity waited.
Waited with her bikini top dangling from her finger. “I wanted her to feel 'em.”
Anna smiled and gave Autumn a shake. “That's twice you got lucky, cunt.”
Guided into Mason's smothering tits, Autumn pushed feebly at shoulder and encircling arm, but Anna pressed in behind her between Caity's parted legs and there was nowhere for her to go. “Aww, she's drooling. You think this has happened to her before? I tried watching some of her old matches but couldn't stand to look at her fugly f*cking face,” Caity said.
Sharpe shrugged, more interested in their foe's level of consciousness. When she thought Autumn was almost out she patted Caity's shoulder. “Baby, I know you owe her, but this is too much like a treat. She deserves to wake up hurting.”
They must really be pushing their luck as far as time went, Anna thought, but the ramp was somehow still empty. Caity gave up her prey with a dismissive palm on forehead push, and Anna scooped Autumn up and into position for a Tombstone Piledriver. She was wobbly legged and hurting. She prayed for Caity to hurry up – Mason took a few steps worth of run up before leaping off the apron, her cruelly cocked elbow connecting with Autumn's upturned tailbone as she flew by, adding even more impact to the devastating Piledriver, and leaving the Dragon with a pain in the butt to go with the more serious ache in her head and neck.
“I f*cking love doing that.”
“Topless flying Caity is my favorite Caity.” Anna smiled wearily, brushing away a clump of sweaty hair covering Autumn's ear. The crowd hummed with energy at the spectacular finish. Not approval, but Anna didn't need that. “I don't know how you imagined this going, but right now I'm making my name on you, cunt. Hope you like being the bottom rung on my ladder.”
To make the point more literal she stepped on Autumn's torso on her way to the back.
Finally she was called over to the curtain. As she walked away the college chick stopped scrolling and smirked at her. “You know I saw you get bageled at Miami one year. Autumn's gonna beat the fuck out of you.”
Anna fumed, but before she could go back and deal with the bitch the announcer was into his intro. "Ladies and gentlemen the following contest is scheduled for one fall with a twenty minute time limit. Introducing first, trom Islington, London, she stands five feet seven inches tall and weighs in at one hundred thirty pounds, ANNA SHARPE!”
She wore her usual racerback tank and yoga shorts, a means-business outfit that showed off the power in her shoulders. That it stretched tight round her bum was the only concession to the audience, and even that was mostly pragmatic in that she didn't want her movement restricted.
ANNA SHARPE:
This time around just the opening bars of her theme got the crowd going, the jeers so loud and so relentless she felt a rush of gratitude at the sight of someone near the front wearing a shirt with her face on it. Alas, the asshole was wearing it ironically; Orlando's sole resident hipster gave her the finger when she made eye contact, shouting something pro-Autumn that got lost in the booing. It was the shirt with her name misspelled too.
Already pissed, she snatched a mic on her way into the ring and once the music ended raised it to her lips. “Last time, I punched Autumn in the face until she could barely remember who she was, which given what a small, miserable life she's made for herself seems like a positive, but hey….” The crowd filled the silence with a chant of “DRAGON MEAT!” which Anna thought could be read two different ways, although it was clear which way they intended it. “Unfortunately the takeaway from it all seems to have been the green puke she spat in my face. So tonight I'll make things a little more memorable. Get out here Sammain, you smug piece of shit.”
The crowd, who’d quickly come to love hating Anna as much as any other heel on the roster, was still giving it to the gym rat Briton with both barrels when lights went out with a sighed ‘Fwoosh’. The blackness was immediately pricked a thousand times over by the glow of lighters and phones, not to mention the ‘tron, which glowed to life just as ‘Clap For the Killers’ escaped the speakers.
Over this growing rumble, the Announcer resumed his duties. “And introducing her opponent, hailing from Tokyo Japan, she stands at one point seven meters tall and weighs in at fifty-nine point eight kilograms. She is the Dragon of Tokyo, the Joshi Kicking Machine, THIS IS… AUTUMN SAMMAIN!”
AUTUMN SAMMAIN:
Autumn came through the curtain at the sound of her name and immediately launched into a brutal barrage of lighting fast punches, then followed up with several more kicks, the last of which cut through the air like a particularly limber guillotine. Settling back to a zen-like stillness when the kata was finished, Sammain raised her left thumb to her throat and drew it across in a slow slash. With that the lights came up and she started toward the ring.
Cool, calm and collected despite her broiling disdain for the woman in the ring, the Dragon stuck to the center of the aisle, but occasionally angled from one side or another to swat the hands of fans who reached for her. Tonight she wore a jett black sports bra and matching bottoms which were all but obscured by the Joshi style ‘skirt’ that ended well above the knee. This garment was also dead black, save for several electric green slashes running from north to south. The rest of her outfit consisted of black kneepads, matching boots and fingerless green gloves that reached to just below her elbows.
Disgust growing more apparent as she closed in on the ring, Sammain ignored the steps in favor of reaching the apron in a single nimble leap. In the next instant she’d leapt to the corner and from there vaulted to a spot near the center of the squared circle. Then and only then did she raise her fist and rend the air with her war cry, a shrill, brutal sound that earned streamers from the FAWNatics and a hateful sneer from Sharpe. “Took the best you had to offer the first time we met, Sharpe.” Autumn said over the roar of the sold out crowd. “And I wasn’t impressed. Tonight you take MY worst. And it’s going to break you.”
Anna’s stormed off the buckles and chested into the brunette hard enough to knock her back a half step. “You haven’t seen my worst, twat. You’d still be in the hospital if you had.”
Far too interested in talking trash to bother with staying in their corners for final inspections, Autumn and Anna went right on slinging verbal Haymakers while poor Nick Castle tried his best to run through the pre-match spiel. “Glad the swelling’s gone down, cunt.” Sharpe noted in regards to the brunette’s right eye. “I want you to see every bit of the beating coming your way. How’s your nose? I want you to get a really good sniff when I’m sitting on your flat, fugly face.”
“See you managed to scrub all the green off your face.” Sammain said by way of reply. “Didn’t scrub hard enough to get the loser stench off. But then, that’s seeping from your pores, isn’t it, slut?”
The Englishwoman chested in on her foe, forcing Autumn to do the same so she didn’t lose ground. “I’m going to MAUL you tonight, Sammain. And I’m going to do it in such a way that these troglodytes will never forget it.”
The Dragon’s lips curled up ever so slightly. “Oh, you mean like how I spanked Mason’s ass so hard she didn’t stop crying until two the next mor--”
The bell CLANGED and Sharpe shoved her opponent as hard as she could. Autumn flew backward but adjusted in mid-air, landing on her shoulders and rolling back to verticality in a flawless somersault. “You really are a candy-ass, Sharpe.” the brunette said from over raised fists. “The only thing softer than your lobs are your punches.”
“F*cking bytch.” Sharpe came forward with her dukes up only to dip low and jam her shoulder into opposing tummy. Wrapping her arms around Sammain’s upper thighs, the Englishwoman hoisted Autumn up like a sack of laundry and stomped to the nearest corner, where she BWUUUNGED her into the thinly-padded turnbuckles. Shoulderblocks were tempting, but Anna learned they got the official’s attention way too fast, so she straightened up and pwak-pwak-pwak-PWAAAKED half a dozen Back Elbow Smashes into the side of her opponent’s head.
Autumn grimaced, reached up to snag her neck in a Muy-Thai style clasp, so Sharpe kneed her in the belly, then climbed onto the second rope. Burying one hand in the Phenom’s hair, she wrenched her head backward and cocked the other into a fist. “So, you want to participate in her destruction?” she snapped at the fans within sound of her voice. “Then make yourselves useful and count along!”
The FAWNatics couldn’t bear taking orders from Anna Sharpe, yet certain traditions simply couldn’t be ignored, so they raised their voices to toll off the punches she rained on Autumn’s forehead. ’ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE! SIX! SEVEN! EIGHT! NINE!’
Anna paused for a moment to plant a kiss on her knuckles and it ended up costing her because Sammain dipped down and slid between her legs as neat as you please. Swinging into position off the blonde’s left side, Autumn flicked her right leg up n’ across to THWHACK her rival across the lower back! Sharpe cried out, but didn’t relinquish her perch, so Sammain pounded half a dozen left-right-left punches off those proud gym toned glutes, then grabbed hold of Anna’s kneepads and pulled hard.
The former tennis player fell and landed on her feet, unfortunately her forehead BWUNGED against the top turnbuckle. Autumn was right there to help though, she spun Sharpe around in a half circle and promptly laid half a dozen high kicks across the scooped neckline of that Racerback tank-top. “You want something people will remember, sweetheart?” Autumn taunted. “Try something like this.”
Gripping the top rope to Anna’s right in both hands, Sammain brought up her right leg and stuffed it under the Briton’s chin, throttling the air from her lungs! Anna stamped her feet and gurgled, but really didn’t understand the severity of the situation until Autumn lowered her right hand and affixed it to the center of the blonde’s strappy black trunks.
“AAAAARRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH! GET ‘ER OFFA ME, DAMMIT!” she rasped to the official.
Knowing her fun in the corner was likely to be severely constrained, Autumn returned herself to two-footedness and guided her wheezing foe along the ropes without the official needing to intervene, Anna made briefly pliant by the grip on her crotch. Getting in close, the Dragon walked Sharpe back into the ropes and SQUEEZED her fingers down low, wobbling the Brit's legs enough to slump her to a seat on the middle rope. Sammain gave a contended sigh and tilted her head so she could grind foreheads from this dominant angle. “Go ahead and cry if you want, pussy,” she murmured.
Just like Sammain planned it, Anna's eyes popped open at the taunt, bright with pain and hate. “Fuck you, you arrogaEEHHH” Her reply cut off abruptly when Autumn puffed up her cheeks and made as if to blow. Panicked at the though of another dose of whatever the hell that green stuff was, the beleaguered blonde recoiled as far as the ropes' elasticity would let her, twisting her head to one side and raising her arms in front of her face.
The visual couldn't have been more perfect.
Letting go the crotch claw, Autumn slowly let out her breath into the barrier of Sharpe's hands before bursting into a round of derisive laughter, loud and unrestrained. “Pussy,” she said again.
Anna growled, whirling round with her fist aimed at that taunting mouth, but Autumn put a forearm up and blocked the wild Haymaker. A couple of lighting quick kicks to the back of Anna's leg put her on one knee, grabbing at the middle rope for balance. Sammain got in behind her and slipped both arms into place to trap the Brit in a Full Nelson. “You fight about as well as your slut, Sharpe. At least Caity's ass can sell a few tickets. This sack of shit has them asking for refunds.”
Working the combustible blonde's psyche like she'd trained all those years as a psychiatrist and not a pugilist, Autumn followed up the trash talk by humping Anna's butt, two quick hip thrusts that had the Brit shrieking with frustrated rage, before ripping her off her feet with a Dragon Suplex. The official had slapped out…
DRAGON SUPLEX:
ONE…
Before Anna even figured out she was being pinned, but she quickly wriggled and twisted her way loose and she was on her feet at the same time as Sammain, her head still full of memories of the mist. There was a moment back on the Tour, she'd been happily punching out an umpire-f*cking Ukrainian skank when out of nowhere the bytch's twin sister and also doubles partner slugged her in the back of the head with a solid glass trophy, left her lying there facedown on the tiles. But the damned mist had been even more unexpected that that.
“Where is it, cunt? Huh?” She had her fingers in Autumn's mouth, the two of them tumbling into the ropes as Anna searched for that hidden capsule, claws tearing vivid tracks in the Joshi Phenom's gums. “AHHHH! F*cker!” Unsurprisingly, it didn't take long for Sammain to bite down, so Sharpe pulled her hands loose and switched to a hair pull. Autumn did the same, and they worked on tearing out hanks while twisting a tornado's path along the edge of the ring. “It's in your knickers, isn't it,” Anna snarled. “The one place no-one goes.”
“Your nose is going there, bitch,” Sammain panted back, grunting as she swung Anna hard into the corner. "Until you tap out on my ass." Already fearing he'd lost control of this one, Castle went in to pry the two women apart when their legs tangled together and they fell through the ropes, bouncing off the apron and down to the floor with a THUD! Being on the bottom at the time of impact Anna took the worst of things, pinned beneath Sammain's bony body by the hard landing, the breath knocked out of her. They'd both lost their grip on the other's hair, both lost some hair too, dirty blonde and brunette strands stuck to hot palms. Autumn scrambled off her crash pad and wiped those strands onto her skirt like they burned.
Once her hands were suitably skank-free, Autumn returned her attention to Anna, who’d made her way to all fours in the interim. She reached for the Briton, then drew back, thinking better of it. A low whistle turned Sharpe’s head in her direction, a lapse in judgment that cost the blonde a short, sharp kick in the face. Helping herself to Anna’s hair only after the strike put her forehead on the floor, the Joshi Phenom hauled her adversary to boot-leather, then switched her grip to shoulder and hip.
“Took me a while, but I figured out the root of your problem, Sharpe.”
The words were barely out of the brunette’s mouth when she took two giant steps forward and hurled Anna into the steel guardrail. Anna’s struck it shoulder-first, the BWAAAAANG not nearly loud enough to cover the tuff tyro’s groan of pain.
Pleased to see the mouthy tramp make the effort to hook an arm over the barrier, Autumn snatched a double handful of hair and hauled her up just enough to force Sharpe’s throat down atop the barrier. Then, with one hand on Anna’s upper back and the other gripping the rail for support, Sammain laid her right shin across the back of Sharpe’s neck and leaaaaaaaaaaaned down with all her weight. The result was immediate as it was obvious, the Englishwoman kicking and thrashing, expelling tremendous amounts of energy to escape the illegal stranglehold.
Autumn paid the resistance minimal attention, she had a point to make, after all. “Your problem is that you expect a modicum of physical talent to translate into instant success. That sort of attitude might make you Queen Bytch in a Hot Yoga class, but it won’t make you a successful tennis player… or a passable wrestler.” Fighting for every breath now, Anna reached up in search of that hateful voice, only to yowl when Sammain snatched her fingers and bent them back toward her wrist. Sammain smiled and slapped the back of her foe’s head several times, making sure to thoroughly muss the blonde’s hair. “You can’t win a fight. You can’t put on a show. And you can’t beat--”
“C’mon Autumn, get off her neck. That’s cheap!” Castle called from the edge of the ring.
Sammain looked over her shoulder, but didn’t relinquish any of the pressure on her mount. “I haven’t heard your count, Castle. Why shouldn’t I keep throttling this bytch?”
“Brass told me to be lenient with count outs and DQ’s after the finish of your first bout. Doesn’t mean I’m going to let you strangle her to death. Get it back in the ring.”
Autumn sighed in disgust. “Fine.” She slipped a hand into Sharpe’s hair before removing the encroaching knee. “It’s your lucky day, Anna. Nick won’t let me cripple EEERRRRRRGGGHHHHH!”
Anna rounded on her quicker than Sammain thought possible and THWHACKED her with a Haymaker considerably augmented by the nearly full plastic cup she’d commandeered from a front row fan. The cheap (albeit grossly overpriced) beer soaked Autumn from forehead to navel, leaving her stumbling backward and pawing at her be-sudsed features.
Her breath coming in great, rasping peals, Sharpe tossed the cup down, clamped that hand down on the back of Autumn’s neck and jerked her into a THWHAPPING Forearm Smash across the mouth. The Dragon shivered but didn’t do down, which was fine with Anna. She wanted the skinny cunt’s legs to hold as long as they possibly could.
“So you want me to put on a show, Autumn?” she croaked. “You want me to make you a fucking SPECTACLE? Be careful what you wish for, twat.”
Shifting her attention just long enough to spot another of those atrocious plastic cups, Anna liberated it from the owner and helped herself to a long pull. It tasted like cold horse piss (what was it with American’s freezing their bloody beer?) but Sharpe held it just long enough to lean in close and PFWOOOOOOSSSHHH her very own mist into the brunette’s face!
“And so ends act one.” Anna handed the beer back to whatever idiot she’d taken it from, then wiped the last of that terrible brew off her lips. “Onto act two, where it gets really interesting.”
The watered-down booze wasn't as incapacitating as the green shit, but no matter, Autumn was still too preoccupied with wiping her eyes and nose to notice Anna was coming for her skirt. “Bytch. Don't even think abouAAAHHHHH!” Tugged and pulled off balance, she swung at the blonde's blurred shape and missed high, spinning herself around and allowing Anna to lift and then deposit her on the Brit's extended knee, the Atomic Drop only the first repayment for Sammain's earlier Crotch Claw.
Yelping with satisfaction as she liberated the skirt from its role as guardian of the shameful secret that was Autumn's booty, Anna went to loop it round her neck, a thorough throttling a much more noble use of fabric. But as Sammain was dragged from all fours to her knees her elbow shot back, driving into the Brit's workout-hard belly. “OOFFHH!” “OOFFGGHH!” “OOOOFFF!” “UUFFF!” “UUFFFFPPHHH!” It took four more of the same to buckle Sharpe's legs, her grunts of discomfort blowing cold across Autumn's beer-soaked scalp. Once they were at an equal elevation Autumn snatched the skirt from Anna's limp fingers and turned around on her knees before lowering her head and scrubbing her dripping hair in Anna's face. Not the most fearsome of attacks, but back in the ring Castle had finally begun a count, and Autumn didn't want to be tardy.
“You do have some good ideas, Princess” she allowed, hurrying to her feet and wrapping the fought-over skirt around Anna's throat. Still trying to blink the last of the suds from her eyes, and with an ache in her crotch from the Drop, she dragged the choking and coughing Brit across the floor with too much speed for Anna's scrabbling feet to gain purchase. “In you go.”
Sharpe hissed when Autumn used the waistband of her shorts to sling her back into the ring, the resulting wedgie showing off most of that powerful backside and earning Anna possibly the first moments of fan approval in her nascent FAWN career. As for Autumn, she only ducked her head under the bottom rope long enough to end the threat of a count-out. That and fill her hands with Anna's hair.
“How about we keep it inside the ropes for a while,” the official said, although without too much hope. The Joshi Phenom in full cry was as willful as anyone on the roster.
Autumn at least gave the guy an understanding smile before disregarding him entirely. “This piece of shyt isn't fit to share the same ring with me, Nick. I know you can't say that but it's true. So while she's in there, I stay out here.”
“Okay. But you know what's gonna happen next.”
Autumn finished dragging Anna beneath the ropes as the count restarted. The Brit's throat was marked with a red welt where Autumn had choked her, but give her credit for tenacity, as soon as her arms were clear she reached up to return the hair-pulling. Tugged in close, Autumn saw her own hate reflected back at her in Anna's eyes and bared her teeth in a savage smile.
“That's right Sharpe, keep fighting. I'm not finished with you yet.”
“F*CK YOU! I hope you know a therapist who comes cheap, because this ends with you stripped to your boots, ten thousand people booing the sight of your naked body,” Anna snarled.
Autumn drove a series of Forearms into the blonde's rack and shook herself loose to end their latest exchange of pleasantries. Still, she'd got what she wanted, namely Anna's head hanging down over the edge of the apron.
So very vulnerable.
Backing up as far as the steps didn't give her all that much room, but the Yakuza Kick still had some impressive momentum behind it when sole met cheek with a hefty SLAP. The front row was full of Sammain supporters and even they sucked in their breath at the brutal impact. Autumn finished up with her arms wrapped round the opposite ringpost, belly trembling with adrenalin as she looked back at her foe. Anna had been spun parallel to the ring edge. She rolled onto her belly, moaning, her arm hanging down, fingers twisting the fabric skirt.
Her eyes on those fluttering digits, Autumn stalked out onto the mat. “Just a little bit higher, bytch,” she murmured. As if it had been a command, Anna moved her hand. “There's a girl.”
Autumn's Standing Dropkick crushed the Brit's fingers against the side of the ring. Anna shrieked. Her feet kicked against the canvas and she shoved her wounded hand between her thighs as if she could squeeze away the pain.
On one knee after the Dropkick, Sammain raked a hand through her beer-soaked locks and flicked a fine mist in Anna’s general direction. The disgust and anger still clear on her face despite the domination of the last couple minutes, the Joshi Phenom stood up, slid under the bottom rope and sidled in just beside the grounded Englishwoman. Right hand crooked into a claw, Sammain applied it to Sharpe’s cheeks and squeezed hard, distending her pretty features in a humiliating ‘fish face’. “Look at me, Anna.”
Anna did, not that she had much choice.
“Beg.” Sammain said simply. “Beg for mercy and I won’t make you wear your slutty shorts like a mask.”
“Guuuuhhhh….. go fug yurself twad.” the blonde rasped through her distended lips. “Im gonna kill GUURRRHHHHH!”
Autumn slid her hand south and squeezed Anna’s throat hard enough to show white at the knuckles. “You’re beaten.” Sammain growled, her attention still zeroed in on Sharpe despite the looming presence of the official. “Admit it while you can still crawl away under your own powGRRRRRHHHHHHH!”
Anna’s uninjured hand flew up, buried itself in Autumn’s hair and wrenched her head to one side. Oxygen was too precious to waste on words, so the Briton simply grinned, a hateful, feral thing that illustrated her refusal perfectly.
“Let go, ladies.” Castle said when blonde and brunette showed no inclination to break their illegal grips. “Come on now, don’t make me--- dammit Autumn!”
Unwilling to show Sharpe even the tiniest bit of leeway, Sammain laid claim to her rival’s other wrist, jerked that hand close and sank her teeth into Anna’s sore fingers! Sharpe howled, let go of the brunette’s hair and slapped furiously at Autumn’s face in an effort to free her digits from that gnashing maw. The Dragon soaked up these shots as best she could, the sting in her cheeks was a small price to pay to make Sharpe suffer until the referee reached ‘FOUR!’ on his count. Autumn spat the fingers out and made a show of licking her lips even as Anna barrel-rolled her way to the center of the squared circle, that mangled hand wedged snug between her chest and the canvas.
“What’re you doing, Autumn?” Nick asked. “You’re better than this.”
“But she’s not. That woman’s a no-talent bytch who shyt on my life’s work. So I’m going to punish her until she learns the proper respect… or slinks away in shame.”
To that end, the slender brunette crawled over to her vulnerable adversary and quickly settled into a rude seat on the back of her skull. Sharpe bucked and fought at once, but Autumn tucked the soles of her boots against the blonde’s head and she subdued the former tennis player with several hard punches to the ribs. “You’ve talked a lot of trash about my ass, Anna. Not sure if you can hear the crowd at the moment, but they certainly seem to enjoy watching me grind on the back of your neck.” She proved as much by sweeping her undercarriage up & down, a rolling, serpentine display that made Anna groan with disgust and humiliation.
“Know what else they’re gonna like?”
Sharpe didn’t know or care, at least not until she felt the hateful scarecrow’s fingers slip into the leg holes of her sweat-slicked togs. “NOOOOO!” Anna barked as forcefully as she could, given her position. “DON’T YOU OOOOOWWWWWWWW FAAAAAAAAAAHK!”
Autumn split her opponent’s cheeks with a wedgie so brutal it transformed Sharpe’s relatively conservative briefs into a thong worthy of Miriam Gaiman. Anna twisted like a snake with a broken back, her hands reaching blindly back in hopes of disrupting the savage gluteal sawing. But Sammain’s perch made a viable counter nigh impossible and after perhaps fifteen seconds the Briton’s left hand was hovering six inches above the canvas.
Seeing this, Autumn abruptly released the wedgie and got to her feet, allowing Sharpe to curl into a ball and slowly, gingerly, pluck the worst of the traitorous lycra from her between her cheeks. She was in the midst of breathing a sigh of relief when the domineering Dragon put a boot against the side of her head and pressed down ever so slightly.
“I know you’re busy blinking back tears.” Sammain murmured softly. “So let me tell you what you’re missing. There’s a whole arena of fans cheering themselves hoarse because my ‘bony ass’ almost made you submit to a f*cking wedgie. Now get up or get out of my ring.”
In her first career Anna had been a quitter. Near the end of matches she stopped trying, figuring it was better to make it look like you didn't care than give your all and lose and so confirm that the other woman was better. The difference here was the other woman wasn't better. The other woman was Autumn Sammain. The other women were all the rest of the glorified fantasists cluttering the FAWN roster.
“Get the f*ck off me.” Anna growled. She curled her injured fingers into a fist and exhaled in relief that she could do it. Nothing was broken.
For answer Autumn ground her foot a little, twisting like she was putting out a cigarette. But, that little sign of disrespect done, she did back off and let Anna rise to her feet. “Want out Sharpe?” Sammain nodded her head at the ropes, her taunting smile freezing into something colder as she watched the Brit finish picking her bottoms out of her crack. “Then get the f*ck out. I promise, there isn't a single person here who wouldn't be glad to see you go.”
“You. Smug. F*cking. Bitch.” Anna went in swinging, hurting hand be damned.
The Dragon had preternatural instincts, astonishing reflexes and the flexibility of a rubber band. But she also had limited real estate to work with. She parried, slipped or otherwise avoided shot after shot after shot, until her back hit the ropes. Then Sharpe's fists got through in a rush, beating some pink into Autumn's drum-tight tum. Tempted to flip her around and do some work on her kidneys, Anna elected instead to make use of her thus far neglected power advantage. She stuffed Autumn's head between her legs, and after lifting and spinning the brunette onto her shoulders she endured the faceful of sweaty crotch long enough to turn and hurl Autumn down to the canvas with a Powerbomb.
The follow up cover didn't even last long enough for the official to slap the mat, Autumn twisting her shoulder up with so much torque she rolled right over onto her belly, the Brit still pinned to her back. “If you think that was enough to beat me you really have no clue what you're doing, Princess,” she panted.
But Anna had a plan, one that involved crushing Sammain's head into pulp between her legs. Grabbing a handful of brunette hair she slithered onto the canvas, tugging Autumn into position before clamping down hard with the Headscissors.
“I should have known it wasn't worth trying to make you ashamed.” Sammain probably couldn't hear it, what with her ears wrapped in thigh muscle. Anna went ahead and said her piece anyway. “Spanked and scratched and bit while you brayed about embodying the spirit of wrestling? Called me out then went after my girl instead like a bully and a pussy? No wonder you aren't embarrassed to lug around that bony lump – you're delusional, probably look at yourself in the mirror and think you've got a bum like Caity's.”
They'd been handfighting throughout her little speech. Finally Autumn managed to wrench her fingers loose of Anna's and begin pounding fists into the blonde's ribs. Sharpe grunted, stoic, watching as Autumn slowly worked her knees underneath her. The bytch clearly had some scheme in mind, so Anna preempted it by giving up the Scissors and kicking Autumn out from between her legs like a regrettable one-night stand. Sorely tempted to make some comment about the ugly flush in Sammain's cheeks she settled instead for filling both hands with beer-damp brunette hair and bringing the two of them back to their feet.
“Remind me to show you a real Scissors befoAAAHHHH” Anna cut off the taunt with a Headbutt and felt the wobble in the Dragon's strong legs through the grip on her hair. Leading her foe to the nearest corner, the Brit drove Sammain's forehead into the turnbuckle.
“Last time I had you like this I beat you to sleep.” Pressed in tight belly to back, Anna gripped the ropes on either side of them and savored the feeling of her body dominating Autumn's. “You're going to wish I did that again.”
Threat delivered, she stepped out and SMASHED a series of thwacking Forearm Smashes into the brunette's sweat-shiny back. Autumn grunted but stayed upright, so Anna grabbed her arm and turned her round and drove a shoulder into her gut. Getting Autumn off her feet was proving tough, but it got easier when she sagged against the turnbuckle – then Anna could stomp her chest. Once her butt hit the canvas Anna took off for the opposite corner.
From the start the Bronco Buster had been her number one go-to point regarding the stupidity of wrestling. So you walk away from her, giving her time to recover, then come charging in both feet off the floor with your pussy aimed at a steel post. Because that seems sensible.
It still didn't seem all that sensible. But it did seem like the perfect way to humiliate Autumn Sammain. So she broke into a run.
Taking flight from a few steps out, Sharpe kicked her legs up n’ out in that jaunty, dangerous ‘V’ that always got a reaction no matter who threw the move. Jaw clenched against what she felt was an inevitable reversal of fortune, Anna actually crowed maniacal joy when her undercarriage THWHUMPED into Sammain’s mouth and nose. Patently astounded by just how goddamned hard this stupid move hit (NO ONE could fake the ‘whoosh’ of air leaving the skinny bytch’s lungs, Anna snatched hold of the top rope in both hands and proceeded to bust Sammain’s bust with her tush, the delighted Englishwoman just BOUNCING on the miserable brunette’s chest until the ref started his count.
Instinct told her keep on battering until ‘FOUR’ but a better idea crossed her mind immediately thereafter. Halving her control on the uppermost strand, Sharpe buried that free hand in Autumn’s hair and pulled her forward even as she squeeeeeeeeeeeeeezed the Scissors as hard as she could. “That’s right, scream! SCREAM!” Sharpe demanded even as she did her level best to break the Dragon’s nose with nothing but her pubic bone. She might’ve succeeded given world enough and time, alas Nick finally reached ‘FOUR!’, forcing a reluctant break.
A month ago she would’ve finished the job without a second thought, but that was before Caity. That was before the Green Mist. Now there was no way she’d let this bag of sticks walk away with another win at her expense, even if it was a disqualification. Sliding free of her mount was easier than expected, meaning Sammain was still sucking wind when Anna stood up and planted a boot against the side of her face.
“Lick my boot, slag. Lick it right now and I’ll put you out of your--”
Autumn slapped it aside and drilled a rather painful little kick into Sharpe’s opposite leg. “Get Mason to do it..” the Dragon sneered. “She can’t fight for shyt, might as well get some NNNGGGGHHH!”
Sharpe dropped to one knee, conveniently stuffing it into her rival’s crotch. “New rule, cunt. Every time you say her name, I put tears in your eyes. Got it?”
No response from Autumn, so Anna helped herself to a double handful of hair and hauled the flagging fighter to her feet. Quite aware of how she’d started to dominate once she confined the tricksy slut to tighter quarters, Sharpe hooked an arm over Sammain’s shoulder, slipped the other arm through opposing thighs and hoisted her up for a Scoop Slam. But the Slam didn’t come, rather she stepped in and forced Autumn against the turnbuckles hard enough to make her gasp. T’was music to Anna’s ears, Sammain’s hurt made it that much easier for her to hook the brunette’s legs under the top turnbuckle.
“Just so you know,” the ballistic Brit put a hand on the center of her rival’s togs and treated her to a gentle rub, “I’m going to RUIN you, Autumn.”
The brunette was smart enough to remain silent even after Anna gave her junk a rude squeeze. Showing her back on the inverted idiot, Sharpe jogged across the squared circle, swatted the opposite turnbuckle, then pulled an about-face and raced down her own back-trail. No Bronco Buster this time, Anna closed in with every intention of driving her fist squarely into the Dragon’s gro--’OOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!’ Jaws dropped all over the arena when Autumn ‘crunched’ up from her spot at the base of the Tree and laced her hands behind Anna’s noggin in a Three Quarters Facelock. In the next instant she pulled one free loose of its confinement, braced against the top buckle and pushed off into an Ace Crusher that THAWHUNKED Anna down flat on her face! Completely unprepared for the innovative counter, Sharpe bounced up a few inches before settling down again, both arms laced over the back of her head while one foot tapped an erratic tattoo on the canvas.
TREE OF WOE ACE CRUSHER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=NpKmMt42N1I
Beside her, Autumn Sammain rolled to one knee and swiped hair off her forehead. “You wanna get handsy, gym-rat? Then you’ll like this.”
Shoveling Sharpe over onto her back with a nudge from one boot, the Gaijin Extraordinaire swung around to her foe’s feet, laid claim to each ankle and quickly draaaaaaaaagged her to the corner she’d just escaped. Nick held his tongue up until the moment Autumn dropped Anna’s legs and bailed to the floor. “What’re you doin’, Autumn?” He had a feeling he already knew and it only grew stronger when Sammain reached under the bottom rope to reclaim those ankles. “Just another lesson, Nick. Maybe this one will actually stick.” The words were still on her lips when she dipped down and stepped backward to THWHUMP Sharpe’s womanhood into the unforgiving steel!
Anna shrieked and sat up, hands heading south even as Sammain folded her left leg around the post. Laying Anna’s crooked gam atop her right thigh, Autumn raised her own right leg, laid it atop the exposed limb and dropped straight back to secure a hideously augmented Figure Four Leglock!
RINGPOST FIGURE FOUR:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=bgkcZp7G334
“TWENTY SECOND COUNT ON THE FLOOR, CASTLE!” Sammain bellowed over Sharpe’s ear-splitting shrieks. “I’VE GOT TWENTY LOOOOOONG SECONDS TO MAKE THIS BYTCH SUFFER!”
That was debatable, but Autumn was happy enough to debate it if it meant delaying the start of the count. Sharpe wouldn't hold out for twenty but the racket-smashing slut was at least stubborn, and five seconds might not be enough to wring a surrender out of her.
“She's in the corner Autumn. You know damn well what the deal is.”
“BULLSHYT! THE SLUT DOESN'T WANT YOUR HELP.”
That too was debatable. Anna had bitten into the crook of her arm to stop herself screaming and was holding on desperately to the rope like she thought that would get her free. Still, Castle answered the charge rather than beginning a count
“I'm not gonna let you cripple her. You know that.”
Autumn gritted her teeth, hung upside down, sweat running into her hairline. Resigned to getting five, she could only hope the delay she'd engineered would be enough.
“Give up Anna. Give up or you won't be able to walk.”
To Sammain's fury Sharpe had managed to master herself somewhat. By the time Castle reached “THREE!”, the dirty blonde cardio machine was quietly sobbing, panting for breath, but there was resolve in the way her fists clenched, like she wouldn't even let her fingers uncurl in case they started reaching unbidden for the canvas.
So, loud though the crowd was yelling “TAP! TAP! TAP!”, Autumn could almost feel it through her and Anna's entangled legs; the bytch wasn't going to quit.
Castle dragged out those last moments as long as he dared – a second consecutive DQ finish wouldn't sit well with anyone – and when the bell finally rang Autumn thought she'd rationalized the loss in her mind by telling herself she'd chosen it herself, a bit of mental gymnastics that lasted until the announcement of Anna's name in too close proximity to the word winner.
“Bullshyt you're a winner, bitch,” the thwarted Dragon muttered. Dropping to the floor only to pop straight back to her feet, she buried her hands in Anna's hair and pulled Sharpe under the bottom rope. Smiling a grim smile when the Brit's vaunted legs buckled on landing, Autumn took the opportunity to pound a few unanswered shots into the kneeling slut's forehead. “Stay there Castle,” she warned the official, who was loitering above them in the ring. “They'll be out here soon enough to spoil things.”
In fact, someone was already out there.
CAITY MASON:
Caity Mason wore a black thong and the tiniest scrap of a red bikini top, which meant she got less disapproval from the crowd than would normally be the case for someone interrupting their favorite in the middle of dispensing justice. The jiggle of her tits and ass helped plenty too.
Not one to be caught unaware often, Autumn was partway to muscling Anna's limp form into position for a Piledriver when she picked up on the buzz in the arena. Dropping the Brit in an untidy heap she saw Castle down on the canvas and turned to deliver a perfectly timed Super Kick that caught Anna's would-be rescuer SMACK on the jaw. Caity Bambi-on-iced her way across the floor and fell against the barrier, and Sammain followed her in with a Clothesline BLASTED across her jutting chest, hard enough to knock Mason over the railing.
“Thanks Autumn,” someone called out, grateful for the gift, but Autumn was already whirling around and charging across the floor to where Sharpe was pushing to one knee. The Shining Wizard took her in the chin and flattened her, and there was a swelling cheer from the crowd in appreciation of how well the brunette was playing the numbers game. Autumn let loose with a war cry in response, before turning her attention back to Caity, who'd climbed over the barrier and was running a clawed hand through her glossy black hair.
“Gonna give you my tits, you arrogant twat.”
Sammain glanced at the rookie's formidable rack and smirked. The trip over the rail had rearranged Caity's top enough to free her nipple.
“Looks like you've already given them to soUUNNGGHHH!” Anna's curled forearm drove hard into the Dragon's crotch. She sank to the floor and Caity was on her in an instant, stomping away at any available body part.
“Can you stand up?” Mason asked of her girl, while using her heel to hack a purple bruise in Autumn's thigh. “Sadistic f*cking bytch.”
With the aid of the ring Anna could. Wincing at the pain in her legs she helped Caity lift Sammain to her feet. Together they hurled her CRASHING into the steel steps. As she lay moaning in the wreckage, Anna glanced up the ramp to the entrance. No one. They still had time. The booing was almost deafening. Both she and Caity were being pelted with paper cups, though thankfully most were empty - the crowd were a frugal bunch. She tried to tune it all out, think only of Sammain's humiliation.
“Hop up.” Sharpe slapped the apron and Caity boosted herself to a seat. Anna limped over to where Autumn lay ass up on the ruined steps. “You're lucky I don't strip you of every last stitch,” she snarled. She settled for pulling Sammain's bottoms down to her thighs, baring her backside. The groggy Dragon reached back to try preserve her modesty while Anna took her by the scruff and led her to where Caity waited.
Waited with her bikini top dangling from her finger. “I wanted her to feel 'em.”
Anna smiled and gave Autumn a shake. “That's twice you got lucky, cunt.”
Guided into Mason's smothering tits, Autumn pushed feebly at shoulder and encircling arm, but Anna pressed in behind her between Caity's parted legs and there was nowhere for her to go. “Aww, she's drooling. You think this has happened to her before? I tried watching some of her old matches but couldn't stand to look at her fugly f*cking face,” Caity said.
Sharpe shrugged, more interested in their foe's level of consciousness. When she thought Autumn was almost out she patted Caity's shoulder. “Baby, I know you owe her, but this is too much like a treat. She deserves to wake up hurting.”
They must really be pushing their luck as far as time went, Anna thought, but the ramp was somehow still empty. Caity gave up her prey with a dismissive palm on forehead push, and Anna scooped Autumn up and into position for a Tombstone Piledriver. She was wobbly legged and hurting. She prayed for Caity to hurry up – Mason took a few steps worth of run up before leaping off the apron, her cruelly cocked elbow connecting with Autumn's upturned tailbone as she flew by, adding even more impact to the devastating Piledriver, and leaving the Dragon with a pain in the butt to go with the more serious ache in her head and neck.
“I f*cking love doing that.”
“Topless flying Caity is my favorite Caity.” Anna smiled wearily, brushing away a clump of sweaty hair covering Autumn's ear. The crowd hummed with energy at the spectacular finish. Not approval, but Anna didn't need that. “I don't know how you imagined this going, but right now I'm making my name on you, cunt. Hope you like being the bottom rung on my ladder.”
To make the point more literal she stepped on Autumn's torso on her way to the back.