Post by walkindude on Jul 13, 2018 1:28:25 GMT
Evening Friends,
Below features a look back at some of the Oil Pit action these last several weeks, as the ladies of FAWN via for a shot at usurping the Raven in her slippery domain. Hope you enjoy!
~rf
********
Frustration. Sierra couldn’t hide it.
Rebuilding Lisa in the image she deserved had been more grueling than Mist had imagined. The Dream was back in physical fighting trim and she’d managed to survive all the relatively safe tests thrown at her since besting Nurse Manners at March to War, but the bloom of her return was off the rose. While people no longer booed the reformed Lisa, they hadn’t been able to get fully behind her either, especially when Sierra had been forced to ‘trigger’ Lisa late in what might have otherwise been losing efforts.
LISA DREAM:
The PhD-to-be didn’t particularly like setting Lisa off into a manic display of demolition that looked nothing like the fair play she’d use through the rest of a fight, but she wasn’t about to let Lisa lose without all avenues being exhausted. She would NOT let Lisa drop down the ladder. She couldn’t. And how would it look when she submitted her thesis if The Dream became a mid-carder under her con…tutelage. Not only was The Dream’s career on the line, but hers was as well.
Lenore Lemarchand and the oily, golden-brown remains of a defeated Amara Singh had made the pit the exotic ‘it’ location and when Bethany offered The Dream a drop into the slippery substance, Mist signed the contract without a second thought, opponent unknown. Well, not completely. She made sure it wouldn’t be the Raven. Not yet.
CLAUDIA ROONEY:
What never entered into the plan is the woman who would take up the opportunity might be as adept at battling within the slippery goo. Claudia Rooney had run Lisa ragged through ten minutes of a twenty-minute time limit and the legendary, but yes, older Lisa was looking more hot mess than perfection Of course, Lisa Dream sans her usual leather pants, instead slick and slippery in a zebra-stripe bikini was an attention grabber, but being routed by Rooney while grabbing said attention. Not good.
Sierra shouted encouragement from just outside the rim of the baby oil-soaked environs, Lisa on her rear end, Claudia likewise but behind the brunette, Full nelson in place by Rooney leaving The Dream’s arms trapped above her head, unable to pry at the breathtaking Scissors, the alabaster-skinned Claudia used to crush Lisa’s ribs.
“C’mon Lisa,” Mist shouted.
Sierra started a rhythmic clap and a few people took her up on it, but even she stopped after the redhead leeeeaned back, bringing Lisa with her, then thrust her pelvis up and forward, ramming Dreamy tailbone into the pit floor with a Keester Bounce. Though padded, it wasn’t a pleasant sensation, as evidenced by the Dreamy wince.
Savoring every bit of her dominance over a multi-time former World Champion, Claudia pushed down on the Nelson, forcing the Dream’s chin into the top of her modest cleavage even as she turned the Scissors into a Grapevine that streeeeeeeeeeeetched Lisa’s sinewy stems at a remarkably unpleasant angle. “Who do you think you’re kidding?” the redhead chided Sierra. “You think these idiots are really going to get behind this head-case? Blassenville’s bedside manner might suck, but she knew enough to lock this one up and throw away the key!” Lisa groaned, swiped at Rooney’s hair, so Claudia switched back to the Bodyscissors and punished her with another violent squeeze. Leaning in close, she nuzzled her lips to Lisa’s ear and murmured, “Are you ready to give up, punk? Or do you want the nurse to do it for you?”
“Don’t listen to her, Dream!” Sierra called from her place on the outside. “She doesn’t have what it takes to put you--”
Claudia leaned back again, drawing the taller woman into her lap for a good five seconds before she THWHUMPED her tush against the oily floor of the pit. Lisa jolted hard but couldn’t get free and her position only grew worse when Rooney rolled her over onto her belly. Stretched out atop the flagging brunette, Claudia used the Nelson to keep Dream’s cheek against the mat while her hips SMECKED against Lisa’s glutes over and over again, the one time Trophy Wife doing her best to break Dream’s rejuvenated spirits with the catty tactic.
Chin on the coated plastic, Lisa looked longingly at her young mentor and liberator in front of her. Something about wrestling under these conditions didn't seem right, but Sierra convinced her it would be an excellent way to prove her continued recovery and The Dream wanted nothing more than to make Sierra proud. 'GRUNT' The thought is driven from her mind by another pelvic thrust to her already aching backside. The Dream tries to roll her foe and at least get on top again, if not under control, but Rooney wasn’t having it. She pulled Lisa's noggin off the pit floor with her Nelson and SLAMMED the face of the Ultimate Image into the oily surface, Johnson & Johnson's splattering in several directions from under the impact.
Claudia gleefully rubbed Lisa's flawless features into the floor. "You took her out of a padded cell for this?" she barked at the worried visage of the PhD-to-be. Claudia releases her grapevine and started to move toward a crouching straddle of Lisa, that damned Full Nelson still tight for the moment.
Rooney maintained control over Dream’s arms until her knees were practically touching her elbows. Only then did break hold and slide into a full straddle of the brunette’s shoulders. “Yeah, you were better off away from all this, honey.” Claudia helped herself to the brunette’s hair and BWUNKED her forehead against the floor again, all the better to keep Lisa docile while she carefully trapped the Perfect One’s biceps in the pits of her knees. With Lisa’s arms effectively trapped, Claudia took a moment to unleash a flurry of slaps to the back of Dream’s head, a haughty show of dominance that raised a cheer from those who hadn’t quite bought into Lisa’s rehabilitation.
Sierra Mist was far from pleased by these developments and she swatted the edge of the pit in obvious frustration. “C’MON, DREAM! DON’T LET HER EMBARRASS YOU LIKE THAT!”
Rooney stopped and looked over one shoulder. “What, you don’t approve of my methods? Perhaps I should embarrass her like this?” The Red Menace leaned back, grabbed hold of Lisa’s black n’ white briefs at each hip and leaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaned forward to punish her with a catastrophic wedgie! Hardly content with a mere thong, Claudia halved her grip, flattened that hand into a paddle and began to paddle out a decidedly nightmarish beat on Lisa’s cheeks, her boot-leg Symphony drawing groans from the Dream and nearly visible steam from Sierra’s ears.
Dark eyes welling from the invasion of her undercarriage by the wedged material, Lisa yelped and her body flinched with each stinging slap and sawing tug. Her arms freed by Rooney's change of tactics, The Dream pressed her palms into the slipper plastic and tried to push up but she flopped back to her chin and chest and paid for it with another round of Butt Bongos from the delighted Rooney. "You stayed past your expiration date, honey. And now you're looking and smelling a little over-ripe."
Sierra bit her lower lip and began to chew as Lisa's zebra stripes disappeared between her cheeks, those glutes turning beet red under the shimmering oily sheen. "Lisa," Sierra shouted, drawing the tear-streaked mug toward her gaze. "Show these people. Show Rooney and the rest of them you're PERFECT."
A furious focus entered the leaking brown pools and The Dream drew a line of clear mucous back into a nostril. With a fury that had been missing from the start, Lisa shot her legs off the floor and swung each, hammer-like, into the ribs of the slightly turned redhead. Hearing the thumps of impacts and the grunt of pain, not to mention noticing the slight loosening of the floss in the cleft of her ass, The Dream used the slippery substance to spin to her back. With Claudia still straddling the front of her thighs, Lisa crunched her ivory abs and sat up close enough to throw her right arm around the back of Claudia's neck and tried to secure a Guillotine Choke while peppering her with piston-like left hooks.
Startled by the slick corkscrew of Lisa’s counter, not to mention the crystal clear purpose shining in those dark eyes, Rooney couldn’t stop the Ultimate Image from catching her noggin in the Front Facelock. Even worse, she was still processing this first development when Dream leaned back and twisted to one side, effectively forcing the wrestlers to switch places on the mat. Cranking the Front Facelock harder than ever, Lisa slipped her stems beneath Claudia’s flailing feet and repaid an earlier punishment with a hamstring-straining Grapevine.
“YEAH, THAT’S IT!” Sierra cheered as her patient regained control of the contest. “MAKE HER SUFFE-SUBMIT! MAKE HER SUBMIT!”
Lisa didn’t bother to repeat the demand, she simply wrenched up on the redhead’s captured skull and stretched the Grapevine a little wider. Baring her teeth as the hold punished her on multiple fronts, Claudia curled one hand into a fist and beat it against the Dream’s dripping flank while the other sought the former champion’s waistband to compound the misery of that stinging wedgie. Lisa endured both without comment, though she provided an answer of sorts by THWAPPING her hips against Rooney’s gulping tummy once, twice, three times. Breaking into a confused sort of smile as Claudia groaned beneath her, the lissome brunette tightened her hooks and murmured, “I’m Lisa Dream, stupid.”
"Don't you mean you're stupid, Lisa Dream." Claudia grunted. The comment didn't do the redhead any favors as Lisa rattled her captured head from side to side. But when the stubborn Rooney again pulled her grip on the now G-string of The Dream's bottoms, Lisa did indeed give up her Guillotine. The veteran wasn't in turn rewarded by Claudia with a release of the garment on her end. Anything but. However, firmly planted atop her foe, she's in a better position to more immediately convince Claudia it's a bad idea. Rising from a full body-on-body to a straddling kneel of Rooney's midriff, Lisa pushed her left palm under Rooney' chin to shove her foe's head back and, with her right, sinks her nails into Claudia's pert bosom. The location also made it more difficult for Claudia to work her wedgie, but not impossible as Lisa continued to find. With the Grapevine gone, Lisa's forced to ride through the Claudia's thrashing and the maneuver looks like a mistake when the Ultimate Image got jostled from side to side, struggling to keep the redhead beneath her.
Sensing she had the brain-addled brunette off balance, Claudia halved her control over the wedgie and added several punches to Lisa’s flank for good measure. Give the Dream credit, she redoubled her own efforts on the redhead’s chest and answered the punches with several hard slaps to the face. But the oil was a notoriously turbulent medium and eventually Rooney’s squirming allowed her to dump Lisa to one side. They landed side by side in what would’ve been a surprisingly intimate position if not for the hate congested sneer on Claudia’s face. Throwing a leg over Dream’s hip to try to keep her in place, the Red Menace grabbed a handful of hair and went to bounce her head against the floor.
Sierra saw this and grimaced, displeased by the other woman’s continued defiance of the Dream. “Fight fire with fire, Lisa! No rules in the oil, remember?”
The look on Lisa’s face said she didn’t, but that didn’t stop her from filling her hands with Rooney’s bounty and twisting like she was searching for radio stations at opposite ends of the dial. Claudia shrieked and turned her attention to the brunette’s wrists in a feverish attempt to end those hateful claws.
Dream wriggled her backside like she had the overwhelming urge to release one of her claws to pick the floss free from her ass cheeks now that the spandex was without a grip from the redhead. She bore down instead, trying to rip Rooney's breasts to shreds. The concentration on her task allowed Claudia to shift Lisa to her back, but The Dream immediately responded by wrapping her ivory-skinned legs around Claudia's midriff in a Scissors, the returnee learning from Rooney's previous Grapevine. A grimacing Claudia seemed to realize she'll need to batter Lisa out of her double breast claw instead of prying. She released her right palm from around The Dream's left wrist and drew the arm back slightly to deliver a forearm shot to Lisa's chin. But as she threw, the brunette gave up both her grips and wrapped her palms around the blocked thrust. Lisa pulled the right arm of her foe straight and slipped her Scissors up Claudia's frame, the legs converging around the back of Rooney's neck. Instantly, Claudia's dark eyes widened with concern while Lisa's perfect pearlies clenched in an effort to secure the Triangle Choke. yt
“YEAH, GO ON!” Sierra clapped her hands. “CHOKE HER OUT! SEND HER TO DREAMLAND!”
Claudia heard this and gurgled in disgust, but she didn’t have the time or the breath to waste on an actual response. Struggling against the encroaching wedge of her own bicep, the Silent Siren reached up with her free hand and slapped at Dream’s face a few times before settling in for a nasty hair-hold. Lisa grimaced and leaned back. This didn’t do much for the claw in her hair, it did however allow the former World Champ to thrust her hips up into Claudia’s chin over and over again. Quickly flagging as the Triangle did its work, Rooney dug deep into her reserves and clambered to her knees. Freeing Lisa’s hair from her grip, she planted that hand against the floor of the pit so she could muster as much leverage as possible when she surged forward in a desperate attempt to power through Lisa’s gammy trap!
But as Claudia moved forward, Lisa threw her weight to the left and sent Rooney tumbling to her side. With the 'smeck' of the redhead's body slapping against the oily plastic, Lisa tightened her Scissoring choke. Her legs spasmed for a moment but Sierra offered The Dream the 'perfect' reassurance and a vicious brutality was instilled in both The Dream's lower limbs and her flawless features. Scissors renewed at more than its initial strength and with Lisa adding the occasional violent rattle, The Dream growled she's ready to rip Rooney's arm from its socket for good measure and hit the redhead over her ginger locks with the limb until she gave in.
Vision spotting, breath hitching, Claudia made a final push to get through the trap, but Dream’s stems were too tight and she’s too weak. Galled at the prospect of losing consciousness in the pit, the redhead flattened her hand into a paddle and swatted Lisa’s flank repeatedly. “Give.” she rasped. “Giiiiiivvvvve!”
Sierra and the referee both heard it, as evidenced by the CLANG of the bell and a shouted ‘YES!’ respectively. Lisa however proved a different story, as she continued to wrench and twist on the Triangle long after the bell faded into the background din. Though she was delighted by the brunette’s ferocity, Sierra didn’t want the decision reversed on a technicality, so she slapped the edge of the pit and said, “That’s enough, Dream! I said that’s enough!”
Lisa let go and spun to one knee, but made no move to follow the snap of Sierra’s demanding fingers. Even more concerning, she threw a leg over Claudia’s head and sat down full force, engulfing the Wannadream’s imperfect features in her glorious glutes. Again, it wasn’t the action that Mist minded, but the fact that Dream did it seemingly of her own accord. In the pit, Lisa planted her hands atop Rooney’s gulping tummy and bounced hard, seemingly trying to send the other woman’s face in search of her distended stripes.
Eventually the last of Claudia’s resistance joined the rest of her in Dreamland, leaving the victorious brunette to get to her feet. Breathing a sigh of relief as her charge tended to those tormented briefs, Sierra patted the side of the pit and said, “C’mon Lisa, we’re done he--”
Lisa bent down, grabbed hold of Rooney’s crimson top and snatched it away before tucking the trophy into her own waistband. Looking to Mist, she nodded once and murmured, “I’m Lisa Dream, stupid.”
Sierra drew Lisa in for a hug, oil be damned. The second trigger had been a little more destabilizing than she would've liked. She'd have to work on that in the office sessions with her subject. Taking the top made Mist wince and she eventually lowered The Dream's adrenaline level enough to have her toss it back to the stirring Claudia, the crimson spandex landing next to Rooney. "Remember," Sierra whispered, "you're my good girl."
The Dream nodded, wiping some excess oil from her glistening beaming face. "Of course, Sierra. Of course.”
********
GABBY MENDOZA:
The frustration of losing the Queens of the Ring tourney finale earlier in the year figured to be fuel for Gabby Mendoza’s fire, but the months following without appearing on a Pay-Per-View led to rumors she was ready to strike out on her own and head full-time back to singles to retake the lightweight crown. Though she’d denied up and down any plan on leaving Ginnifer Chadwick high and dry and without a partner, appearing in tonight’s oily showcase spoke volumes the Babyfaced Killer might indeed be expanding her horizons into FAWN’s new flashpoint.
There’d been gossip she’d demanded a chance to take down the Oil Baroness Lenore Lemarchand immediately, but cooler heads had apparently prevailed. Instead, Gabby was sliding around the pit in a magenta bandeau bikini with a certain juicy Strawberry.
CHLOE FIELDS:
Chloe Fields, another former sub-125 titleholder, bowed out in the Queens tourney’s first round with her bestie Katya Michalka. After separating herself from her jobber past by a good distance with her light title run, she too was having trouble gaining traction.
The same slippery slope was showing tonight as well, the lithe Latina seeming to one-up the tawny Fields at most every turn around the spongy, slippery enclosure. Chloe’s feline frame seemed ideal for oil, but as of yet, the pink bikini-clad Chloe was failing the greasy pop quiz presented her. And things got no better as Fields, chest and facedown, had Gabby applied liberally to her back in a full body-to-body ride. Mendoza slipped a shiny right arm across Chloe’s jaw and linked her hands in a crossface grip, ripping Chloe’s head to the side, growling cutely as she worked at Fields’ neck like she wants to remove braincase from body.
Fields groaned in obvious discomfort as the Wrigley Enthusiast tried to mangle her jaw, but the former Lightweight Champion chirped a defiant ‘no!’ when the ref (safely positioned just outside the confines of the Pit) asked her about surrender. Mendoza didn’t much care for the defiance, so she transitioned from Crossface to Chinlock, which she promptly halved to pinch Chloe‘s nostrils shut. “Give up, bytch-face!” she demanded while trying to remove the other brunette’s nose like it was nothing more than a particularly stubborn piece of gum. “Or I’ll choke you out with those tacky extensOOOOOWWWWW!”
Chloe Fields was never going to top anyone’s ‘Most Vicious’ list, but the Upstart showed more than a little fire by snatching a huge handful of Mendoza’s dark hair! It didn’t return her nose, but it shifted Gabby’s position just enough for Chloe to spin around onto her back. Quick to secure a snug, shiny Scissors around her opponent’s hips, Chloe yanked her opponent’s head to the side and earned a raucous round of applause when she demanded, “STOP BEING SUCH A JERK, GABBY!” She punctuated with a single heavy slap that CRAAAACKED off domineering battler’s oil shined cheek.
Mendoza's head whipped to the side, her features growing rosy from the reverberating SMACK. The baby face returned and Mendoza went nose to nose, staring down at Strawberry. “Was that supposed to hurAHHHH!”
Gabby’s repartee was cut short as Fields’ sinewy thighs cinched tight around Mendoza’s midriff, Chloe locking ankles at the base of Gabby’s spin. The Scissors drew the first look of pain and concern the Terrible Texan had shown in minutes and the uncertain breathlessness of her foe stirred Chloe further. She wrapped an arm around the back of Gabby’s dipped head and locked in a Guillotine.
“Sorry meanie, but this oil stuff is blowin’ up and I need to move my Upstart ass up the ladder, so night night!” Chloe buried the crown of Gabby’s head into the oil-covered, blue plastic covering of the pit, clamping her grip even tighter. The gurgles from Mendoza made her more than a little uncomfortable, but if anyone deserved it, Gabby did, Chloe told herself.
Having control was encouraging, but the pouty-lipped brunette wanted a little more security and having Mendoza straddling her, even in her vulnerable position, wasn’t a spot Fields could fully enjoy. So she wrenched the ebony-maned Mendoza to the side, hoping to end up with the same choke and Scissors, but she on her left side and Gabby on her right.
With her head and ribs firmly in control of Straw Beary’s favorite wrestler, Gabz was in no position to argue Chloe’s shift of position, let alone do a damned thing about it. Regaining a little bit of her equilibrium once she wasn’t staring at nothing but blue canvas, Mendoza flattened her hands into paddles and SLAPPED Fields’s flanks as hard as she could.
Chloe pursed her lips in concentration, shook her head ‘no’ and stretched her legs out full length, all the better to squeeeeeeeeeeeze her flailing foe. “What’s your favorite pre-nap gum?” she teased. “Are you chewing it now? Because I think you’re about donOOOOOWWW!”
Mendoza crooked her hands into talons and raked ‘em up down Chloe’s back no less than half a dozen times. “Wouldn’t ask any questions about my gum if I were you, geek.” the brunette croaked. “Unless you want to inspect it after I’ve glued it to your foreheaAAAAAAHHHHHH BYTCH!”
Out to prove she wasn’t hapless in one of FAWN’s more outré venues, Fields reached down with one hand, grabbed hold of Gabby’s waistband and yanked it halfway to her shoulders. “Maybe you should just spit it out right now!” Chloe giggled even as she tried to saw the struggling battler in half. “Unless you wanna submit with a mouthful of gum!”
"AWWSHYYT" Gabby howled, fitfully reaching behind her to wrest her togs free or at least downward to soothe the worst of that creeping burn. She mewled softly after creating some slack only for Chloe to YANK up again. If she could've gone to tiptoes Mendoza might have. Instead she could only yelp and offer muffled threats between. The lovely Latina, tide turning against her, stuffed some fists into Chloe's taut flanks. Gabby hit ribs on one side and went a little lower for Strawberry's liver on the other. She could feel Fields' arm loosening even if Chloe's legs continue to feel as if the dimpled goof might cut her in half and she's able to pop her head from the Guillotine, mug slick with sweat and baby oil.
Startled by her opponent’s abrupt escape, Fields’s lack of experience in cattier arenas proves a costly liability as she froze just long enough for Gabby to swipe one smartly-manicured hand across her eyes! Chloe wailed and clutched at her face, meaning the Baby Faced Killer was free to vent some frustration with a quick, heavy left-right-left combo to her opponent’s slick midsection! The Bubblicious body shots put an end to Chloe’s Scissors and marked the beginning of a dangerous new era as the heavier brunette straddled her opponent’s waist. Snatching hold of Fields’s wrists, Mendoza pinned them high overhead, then leaned down and slid back, all the better to hook her calves under Chloe’s.
“Uuuuunnnnnnggggggghhhhh!” Strawberry moaned as Gabby pinned her to the floor with a spiteful Double Leg Grapevine.
“Still interested in my gum, bytch face?” Mendoza waited until Fields opened her eyes, then blew a large, orange bubble less than an inch from the tip of Chloe’s nose.
Gabby leaned forward and used Fields' nose to pop her sugary sphere, the remnants of which exploded across the already watery eyes of the dimpled brunette. Dark peepers already burning, now sugar and saliva covered them as well, increasing the pain and decreasing her vision. Chloe squealed in anguish, writhing wildly to try an get a hand free and wipe bubble remains from her eyes.
Pulling what gum she could back in with her darting tongue, Mendoza collected about half her wad, then stretched her legs wide, forcing the tanned stems of Fields wider still. The nasty Latina gave up her grips on Chloe's wrists to push her torso up and off Fields's frame then dropped in a full body mini-splash that sent oil splattering from between those nubile bodies. The collision drew a soft groan as Chloe rubbed furiously at her peepers. Distracted as she tried to clear her vision, Strawberry didn’t notice Gabby push up again and drop with surprising force, sandwiching and flattening the flagging Fields.
The Upstart certainly noticed the second Big League Drop, not that she was in any position to stop Mendoza from punishing her with the same ‘SMECKING’ tactic another half dozen times. Settling down only when she was satisfied with the wheezy tone of Fields’s breathing, Gabby forced the other brunette’s hands behind her head in a pose that might’ve been fetching if she’d had any control over it. But control was in short supply, as Mendoza reminded her when she cinched her arms around Chloe’s biceps and leaned in to drop her chest atop Fields’s surprised features! “Yeah, that’s right bytch face, whimper and groan!” Mendoza teased as Chloe sputtered against her encroaching juggs. “Maybe if you groan loud enough I won’t leave my gum in your hair!”
Biting her bottom lip, she glanced up, spotted the referee and offered him a coy smile. ‘I’m TOTALLY leaving my gum in her hair.’ she mouthed. Oblivious to anything save her growing need for oxygen, Fields bucked and twisted, the former champ leading with her hips and tummy in a desperate bid for freedom.
Hardly known for the size of her cups, Mendoza used them effectively, keeping Chloe's mouth and nose mostly filled with flesh, even if it's not the vapor lock some of the chestier girls could manage. Her Grapevine having moved to calves on thighs, the Texan could still wedge Chloe's legs wide enough to keep her from finding a base with which to push up or roll over. When the gum-smacker chose to give up her vines, she only did so to SLAM a knee savagely into Chloe's honey pot. Dimples activated as her face clenched in agony, dark eyes rolling white, the greasy, frozen features were soon swallowed by dominating Latina tummy as Gabby slid up to apply abs and put a unique stamp on Chloe's oily failure. She slapped flat, taut tummy down on Fields' face while grinding a knee into her foe's throbbing mound. "It's gonna be so hard to get my 'Licious out, bytch face. So hard. "
Savaged on two distinct fronts, Chloe momentarily forgot about the fire down below when Gabby secured the Tummy Smother. Slapping and pawing at the Texan’s toned sides, Fields was promptly reminded of the second half of the diabolical Double Mint equation when Mendoza grrrrrrrrrooooooooooound her knee into the Upstart’s crotch. “MMMMPPPHHH OOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWW!” Fields resumed her previous bucking, albeit with much less force than before.
“Ohhhhh, does that hurt?” Gabby teased after a particularly jarring Kneelift. “Baby wanna tap out? Huh? Baby wanna tap out?” She doubled down on Chloe’s dark hair and yanked until her knuckles showed white. Fields keened and whined but still wouldn’t surrender not even after one more vindictive shot below the belt. Angered by the loser’s tenacity, Gabby Mendoza suddenly straightened up and hopped / slid forward so that the fork of her crotch was wedged against the point of Chloe’s chin. “First things first.” she reached into her mouth, produced a remarkably large wad of gum and stuck it between her opponent’s glassy eyes!
“Oooogghhh… yuhhhh… you’re so nastAAAAIIIIIIEEEE!” Gabz clamped a claw between Chloe’s thighs and set to work with the sort of vigor usually seen from the Dennehy clan.
“GIVE UP!” she chided while bouncing heavily on her opponent’s neck. “GIVE UP! GIVE UP! GIVE UP! GIVE--”
The bell CLANGED because Fields was paddling the oil with a series of flat slaps that doused the ref in a greasy spray. Beaming as her name was announced, Gabby scooted up to snug her undercarriage against the defeated brunette’s muzzle. “You can keep that.” she tapped the wad of gum on Chloe’s forehead. “I’ve got plenty to go ‘round.” As proof the victrix reached into her trunks, nudged a small pocket in the waistband and produced a single wrapped piece of Bazooka Joe. Discarding the comic wrapper atop Chloe’s gulping tummy, Gabby chewed thoughtfully, then blew and popped a large, pink bubble. “Yeah, I think I could get used to this.”
****
POLLY LOCKWOOD:
Polly denied it up and down. Cries of FAKE NEWS shouted by Lockwood about when some FAWN smarks claimed she demanded a scheduled oil pit fracas against Nyssa Bloodwind be changed to another willing flyweight. Her 1-3 singles record against the Nubile Navajo certainly made the rumors believable, but those who knew for sure weren’t talking.
Instead, Polly stepped into the pit with a win against Bloodwind and her sister in the first show of Collusion, her new partnership with rookie Kira Koslova, without fear of it being overshadowed by some fluke follow-up loss to the Native American.
Likely feeling a little overconfident in avoiding tempting fate with the scrappy Nyssa, the star-spangled bytch huffed in early fatigue, the blonde robobabe on her knees, sharing a tight embrace with the likewise situated Ukrainian party girl Katya Michalka.
KATYA MICHALKA:
Blonde and brunette pressed against each other, arms wide, fingers laced, the women trying to power the other onto the slippery, spongy surface of their battlefield.
“Your President gave the bastard Putin free reign in my country,” a livid Kat growled, her little biceps bulging. “I cannot make him pay, but you will be the perfect stand-in, comrade.”
"FAKE...GODDAMNED...NEWS," Polly yelled between deep tugs of oxygen. But despite the apparent adrenaline, it's the blonde's arms that were quaking.
“Oh, so it is real news that interests now?” Katya huffed as she slowly but surely rolled the blonde’s hands back over her wrists. “Then how about this headline? Lockwood cries like brat on first night as Katya’s personal dance floor!”
With that she yanked Polly’s hands down to three and nine respectively and plowed forward like a kinetic little wrecking ball! Already straining against Michalka’s compact power, Lockwood collapsed backward in a painful arch that would’ve trapped her legs beneath her torso if not for the slipperiness of their surroundings. Even so, Kat scrambled into a high, snug mount and promptly kicked the party into overdrive by dropping the beat (which was to say, her tush) on the blonde’s chest no less than half a dozen times!
Huffing and squirming with each new Booty Bump, Polly brought her legs up in search of a Scissors and found a Matchbook instead! Catching the former Lightweight Champ’s stems under her arms, Katya scooted up and leaned forward until Lockwood’s chin was less than an inch from her navel. “Give up!” she demanded. “Unless you want me to keep on dancing!”
"I'm a freakin' American. You wouldn't darePHHHMMMMPHH." Polly's certitude was proven unfounded as she tasted the satiny saltiness of Kat's tummy. When the Ukrainian gave up her grip on Lockwood's limbs and scooted forward, it appeared Polly might be getting an altogether different meal. The tawny-skinned exotique pelvic thrusts her undercarriage over the blonde's slippery torso and up to Lockwood's chin, then sneaking over the top.
"I said I'M AN AMERICAMMPPPHHH!"
Served humble pie, the Pernicious Patriot's lips were sent below decks, Katya's shiny silver bikini bottoms resting atop her foe's mouth. "The first step to throwing you all out is shutting you up." Polly's flailing arms moved to Kat's hips, trying to halt her foe's progress before ass was planted on her flaring nostrils.
Lockwood’s resistance was kinetic, no doubt about that, but in the end it was about as threatening as a wacky waving inflatable tube man and Michalka got a THUNDEROUS round of applause when she smooshed Polly’s pert little nose between her cheeks. Matchbook still in place, Kat punished her blonde with a tawdry little house mix bump n’ grind, then straightened up and streeeeeeeeeeeetched those captured gams in a wide, treasonous Wishbone.
“Got anything to say now, cupcake?” the brunette chided. “Actually, never mind. I don’t want to hear anything out of you unless it’s I quitTEEERRRGGHHH AAAAAHHHH!”
Simply freeing herself from Kat’s cradle was impossible, so Lockwood endured the Rave Queen’s humbling baseline until she managed to turn her head sideways and CHOMP down on encroaching thigh! Even that didn’t free her from the Face Sit, but Michalka tossed her legs away without thinking about it and Polly’s second go at hooking her foe’s waist yielded an impromptu Sunset Flip that put Katya on her back and Lockwood on her bum. Quick to hook her legs over the brunette’s biceps, Polly reached around the other wrestler’s trim waist and sank a pair of claws into her gulping belly!
Digging her ruby tips into the shiny, olive skin of the Ukrainian's abdomen with both sets of talons, the greasy-faced and gasping Yank drew in deep breaths even as she forced yips of pain from her Eastern European antagonist. "Why... do... they... keep... letting... you... people…"
The huffs kept Polly's words broken until she exchanged her claws for laced fists and provided an extremely uncomfortable Heimlich to the reclined Katya, bare soles pointed to the rafters with her upper half flat to the pit floor. Polly raised her right leg and aimed a heel between the dark, almond-shaped peepers of Michalka. Unfortunately for the small band of Polly's Patriots, it hit home just as Kat slammed her gams together in the leggy version of an Ear-Ringer that dazed the Fox&Friendly blonde. Polly slopped to her side, causing a spray of oil to push out from underneath. But Kat, on her back, had glassy eyes as well after the dual impacts, and the women remain matbound in a cockeyed capital 'L' shape, toll high, consciousness low.
Neither grappler moved for the first half of the official’s standing ten count and the FAWNatics, worried by the distinct possibility of a draw, began to clap their hands and stomp their feet in hopes of drawing Katya back to the dance floor. Well it took a few more seconds but Michalka sat up at ‘EIGHT!’ and earned a louder round of applause by spanking out a quick groove on Lockwood’s oil-sheened thigh.
“Think this party’s about over, babe.” Kat muttered as she circled around to Polly’s noggin. “But I’ve got one more jam to send you on your way.”
Hooking a Half Nelson to slop Lockwood onto her belly, Kat plunged her hands into the blonde’s hair and lifted her chin out of the oil just high enough to thread her legs around the pundit’s ne--“OOOOOOOOWWWW!”
Michalka shrieked in agonized surprise when Polly chomped down on her inner thigh, practically at the juncture of thigh and torso. Scrambling to all fours without ending her snack, Lockwood wedged her shoulders into Kat’s knees and bulled forward until the brunette was stacked on her shoulders. From there she straightened up and grabbed hold of Michalka’s calves, better to keep her folded and prone while Polly got up slid forward just far enough to take a heavy, unpleasant seat on the other Lightweight’s upturned haunches.
With the Party Girl folded and Lockwood seated squarely in position to keep her that way, the star-spangled bytch slid down the ramp of Kat's upturned hammies, the future Trumpian District Court Judge ending atop the pits of Michalka's knees, palms pressing into the back of the Rave Queen's ankles. Katya struggled to free herself, but even in the slick goo, Lockwood couldn’t be budged. If the match included pin-falls, it would have ended there. Fortunately, or depending on the next moments, significantly less so, Kat remained a viable participant in the match.
She became increasingly less so when the blue-eyed, bite-sized blonde shoved the glistening, lower limbs of the Party Girl outward, into an increasingly wide set of splits that's far enough toward full to draw a grimace from the limber Ukrainian. The widened legs also allowed Polly's backside to find a resting place on Kat's mound and she hops into a butt bounce that found the sweet spot. Another couple Keester Crashes below the belt had Katya's eyes rolling and Polly's tongue wagging. "Don't blame my President that Putin is a strong leader and he decided your country is weak."
Polly dropped her derriere into the aching area once more then leaned back so she could strreeetch Katya's legs wider still. "Give up now or I'll make sure your green card will be in a hundred pieces by night's end."
Desperate to reverse this dystopian predicament in which she was currently mired, Kat squirmed her legs as forcefully as she could and when that didn’t work she set her nails to work raaaaaaaaking the blonde’s flanks and glutes. “GED OVF!” she demanded.
Pretty features twisted in an angry pout, Polly buried a hand in Michalka’s dark hair and yaaaaaaaaaaanked until the Rave Queen was keened against the Stars & Stripes! “How DARE you disrespect my flag like that!” Lockwood after huffed following a single tart slap to the other woman’s forehead. “It looks like you never learned the meaning of the phrase, ‘Don’t Tread on Me.’ Well you’re going to learn tonight, yes you will.”
Still holding a hank of Kat’s hair in her left hand, Polly twisted around and proceeded to score the back of her opponent’s thighs from buttock to knee. Often criticized for her mercurial temper, Lockwood took her time with this particular torture, unleashing no less than a baker’s dozen of slow, sweeping strokes across those defenseless muscles. Only satisfied when Kat’s legs were almost fire engine red, Polly crooked that hand into a vicious talon and affixed it to the center of those tiny silver trunks.
“MMMMMAAAAWWWWW GUUUUUUHHHHHHAAAHHHH!” Michalka bucked much harder than before, alas her efforts brought on even more patriotic fervor from the blonde, who raised her free hand to her brow in a salute that quickly transformed into one of the single fingered variety. It was amidst this show of blatant disrespect that Katya began slapping the floor of the pit over and over and over again. “STAAAAAAHB! STAAAAHHHHB PHOLLY!”
But Lockwood didn’t seem interested in ending her attack. She dug her claw in deeper and clenched tighter, drawing howls of protest from the glistening, sobbing Partied Out Girl. Her crotch on fire, Kat slapped the plastic covering of the pit more frantically, pleading with the blonde to relent. "I QUIT...I QUIT!"
"As well you should," Polly grunted, "When you're in with a superior woman from a superior country." Lockwood gives one final twist of the silver and the flesh beneath and scooted toward a Reverse Face Sit of the greasy wide-eyed features of Katya. "And if you EVER spread fake news again, comrade Kira and I will make you and any other Upstart sorry you're still in this country."
Her piece said, Polly plopped her muscular, behind square on a throne of the Rave Queen's mug. She remained there until the spasms of Kat's body cease and the official threatened to reverse her glorious, patriotic victory.
******
MAEVE KANE:
They’d fought tummy against tummy steadily for the last twelve minutes, each lass taking turn in control as she managed to hook a leg over her opponent’s hip thus anchoring her in place in the notoriously slippery oil. It never lasted more than twenty seconds at a time though, even with furious bursts of hair pulling, sharp slaps to the face or greedy, mean-spirited handfuls of her opponent’s top, neither lass could impose their will long enough to secure a fight winning mount.
Grunting in dismay as the limber brunette once again slung a leg across her hip, Maeve Kane snugged a palm against the side of her opponent’s face and deftly slipped her thumb into the corner of Lenore’s mouth! Lemarchand cried out and redoubled her efforts on the Irishwoman’s blonde hair, so Maeve took the brunette’s nose between the knuckles of her fore and middle fingers and gave it a sharp twist! “Led me on a chase, Lemarchand.” the challenger huffed. “But now you’re mine. And I mean to have EEERRRRRRRHHHHH!”
LENORE LEMARCHAND:
Not about to be outmatched by Kane’s callousness, Lenore wormed a hand into her challenger’s top and tried to find K-Q-U-I-T on Maeve’s personal dial. “That what you were after, Maeve?” Lemarchand sneered as she worked the nipple pincer. “Because there’s plenty more where that came from, honey.”
Kane winced, swallowing any verbalization that might show weakness. Maeve was always on the brawling side when it came to catfighting, but with the oily pit usually keeping grapplers on their knees at the most vertical, it made her natural tendencies more difficult to employ. The newly minted, shoulder-length, golden locks of Kane were greasy and matted from the oily tumbles and required being swept out of emerald eyes, so the Irishwoman gave up her grip on the Raven's beak.
"Ya crazy wench," Maeve hisses through the twisty. "Ya haven't had to face a pissed off lass from my Isle and ya dunna know what ya dealin' wit." The tag legend withdrew her hooked thumb and loaded a forearm, sending the right barreling into Lenore's jaw. The head of the Oil Baroness swung violently in the opposite direction, an oily spray sent flying from the tips of the Raven's long dark locks. "Ya been takin' out these girls that want to pussyfoot witcha. Kanes? We jus want to fight." Maeve yanked Lenore's loosened pincer off her bosom and readied fire with another clubbing forearm aimed at her foe's temple.
Lemarchand couldn’t avoid the shot entirely, but she got her own arm up just in time to absorb the worst of it. Grunting as her bicep smacked against her cheek, she balled one hand into a fist and THWHUMPED it deep into the blonde’s sturdy midsection. “You have any idea how many times I’ve heard chicks tell me I’m not ready for them? Usually a few minutes before I have them pleading for mercy!”
She followed up with another heavy punch to Irish belly, but groaned when Kane clouted her across the tits. Coming to the conclusion that she didn’t want to simply exchange shots with the veteran, Lenore grrrroooound her knee into the side of Maeve’s hip in hopes of distracting her while she sought control of the blonde’s wrists. If she could get Kane’s arms out of the way it wouldn’t be much trouble to finally get her Scissors around the challenger’s waist.
Kane snarled through Lenore's kneecap twisting into the ivory flesh over her left hip. She reached with her left hand to shove the bony joint away and the Raven took possession, a hand wrapping around the blonde's wrist. When Maeve sent her right hand to free her left, Lemarchand snatched the opposite number and had worked her strategy to perfection. Kane tried to break free of the grips, but without her arms to help her balance, she quickly slipped to her side and Lenore was immediately trying to push her lower leg underneath the blonde's body. The Queen of the Pit used the slippery plastic to sneak the limb under and she's halfway to her Scissors when Maeve used the only hard part of her anatomy available, sending a Headbutt into the taut abdomen of the Raven, hoping to turn the dire consequences approaching to a situation more favorable for the Riul.
“UNNNNGGHHH!” Lenore took the Headbutt flush, but she managed to hold onto the blonde’s wrists. Holding them at full extension above Maeve’s head, she pulled her hips backward, then thrust forward to SMECK those washboard abs into the challenger’s surprised mug! “Watch where you’re putting that thing,” Lemarchand huffed. “Unless you want me to squeeze it right OOOFFFFHHH!”
Kane hit her with a second Headbutt and celebrated by wrenching her arms free of the brunette’s control! These she quickly cinched around Lenore’s waist and drew her close, Maeve going cheek on tummy to punish the Oil Baroness with a grinding Bear Hug! Groaning as the Irish lass tried to crush her like a tube of toothpaste, Lenore palmed Kane’s shoulders and pushed down, not to escape the Hug, but to keep herself steady as she resumed her quest to introduce the blonde to her thighs.
While Kane constricted her arms around Lemarchand's midriff, determined to force every bit of air from the Raven's lungs, Lenore's questing lower limbs found the alabaster tummy of the Irishwoman and wormed their way around Maeve's midsection, Lemarchand locking her ankles behind Kane's back. Lenore lifted on her palms to increase the pressure and spun the blonde a half-turn within her squeezing legs to force her thighs into tummy and spine rather than ribs.
As furious and fight-loving as every FAWNatics knew a Kane to be, the power of any wrestler's arms could never match the strength of a set of legs. And these aren't any oily stems, but those of the Baroness, whose gams seemed to draw power from the slippery goo. They pressed tight into the blonde's belly and when Lenore's thighs clenched, Maeve's biceps and the Hug they provided began to wilt from around the Raven's abdomen.
Nodding ever so slightly as those steely stems bit deep into Maeve’s flanks, Lenore kept herself raised for the better part of fifteen seconds before settling back to the oil with a soft ‘glup’. Kane felt this and bore down on the champ’s midsection as she fought to get to her knees and possibly all the way back to verticality, Scissors be damned. Lemarchand thought this was a distinct possibility despite the energy expended thus far so she plunged her hands into Maeve’s hair and pulled as hard as she could.
“Give me your face, sweetie. I want it.”
Kane didn’t offer a ‘no’, but she growled defiantly, knowing damned well that keeping her head snug to the Raven’s tummy was key to maintaining her grip.
Lenore knew it too, so when the Irishwoman didn’t reply she curled her right arm around the back of Maeve’s noggin and proceeded to pound short, mean elbows into the crown of her opponent’s skull! Another hard squeeeeeeeeeze earned a soft moan against her tummy, so Lemarchand snatched another huge handful of hair and twisted Kane’s head so her nose was wedged tight against the Baroness’s navel!
“Give it up.” Lenore demanded, her breathing still ragged thanks to that damned Hug. “Give it up before I decide you really don’t need to breathe anymore.” (yt)
"Ya...forget...who...you...be...fightin'," Kane huffed after each heavy word, a deep tug from her full lips that gets as much of Lenore's salty, taut midriff as air; air the increasingly compressed Kane needed badly. The panic from lack of oxygen showed when the blonde gave up her embrace to flatten her palms and push them against the Raven's hips. They slipped over the Black Courtier's greasy skin several times as Maeve tried to make space between her face and Lenore's tummy.
Failing that, she moved them to Lemarchand's flexing stems and tried to wedge her arms underneath to pry her way free of the Scissors, also a fruitless task. Groaning breathlessly, she next fashioned her hands into fists and sent them out of desperation into Lenore's shimmering ivory flanks. The balled digits had gotten her out of countless jams both in and outside the ring, but these seemed to bounce off with little effect.
Lenore shook her head, pleased to be free of Kane’s coil but knowing damned well the challenger wasn’t finished. “On the contrary, I know exactly who I’m fighting. Which is the reason I’m not about to take any chances.”
With that she squeeeeeeeeeezed down on the Scissors, then rolled onto her knees and reared back on her haunches. A simple tug extricated Maeve’s face from those oily abdominals, unfortunately the blonde’s gasp of relief transformed to a groan of consternation when the Raven yanked up and THUMPED the back of her skull against the pit once, twice, three times! Kane’s questing hands finally crumpled into the oil, so Lenore sidled up and spun around so that the Irishwoman’s chin was snugged into the cleft of her glutes.
Steadying Maeve’s head with a handful of hair, Lenore lifted her up just enough to slip her left calf behind the blonde’s neck. When she sat down that shin went into the pit of her right knee and Kane was buried nose deep in those distinctive championship togs. Bouncing in place as the rattled Riul started to moan and groan, Lemarchand raised both hands high not in the usual Raven sigil, but a wicked little double squeeze to let the FAWNatics know that Maeve’s dangerous bounty was about to pay a high price.
And the bill comes quickly as Lenore sank her nails into Maeve's vaunted rack, clenching her palms and digging her nails through the thin green spandex covering the ivory orbs. From beneath Baroness bum, the muffled shrieks of Maeve were heard by only the first few rows of fans. Her hands moved to the Raven's hammies and the blonde shoved with the strength she had remaining but the tag legend's been sapped by Lenore, Lemarchand barely budged by Kane's frantic efforts. The Raven settles on her perch all the firmer and Maeve bucked wildly. One pelvic thrusting lift of the legs brought them in range of Lenore's arms. The Raven gave up her breast mauling to catch the limbs, pulling them under her arms and folding Maeve in a Matchbook, the Baroness going out of her way to also spread the alabaster stems of her Irish throne. Crotch pointed to the rafters and head swimming amidst the humid undercarriage of the Pit Mistress, the exhausted hardcase endured for another ten seconds before tapping enthusiastically to signal her surrender.
The bell rang almost immediately but Lenore didn’t relinquish the hold, choosing instead to swat Maeve’s defenseless undercarriage in time with the frenetic clanging. A few seconds later, the Announcer cleared his throat and confirmed, “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner via submission and STILL Queen of the Oil Pit… LENORE LEMARCHAND!”
Smiling, Lenore tossed Maeve’s legs away and finally raised the Raven overhead. Following the initial round of applause, she lowered her hands once more and made a show of taking the blonde’s buds between thumb and forefinger. Kane mumbled and raised her hands only to stop when Lenore said, “Hands down, sweetheart. Take your punishment or I’ll strip you down.”
Maeve grumbled in abject disgust, but the exhausted veteran put her palms flat in the oil and forced them to stay there while Lemarchand worked the nipple pincer for thirty agonizing seconds. Popping to her feet without a word when she was satisfied, Lenore smoothed out her hair with both hands, then put one on her hip while the other arm curled into a jaunty bicep flex. “Still don’t know if this is official or not,” the Raven muttered as she planted a foot atop Kane’s heaving chest, “but it still feels pretty damned good.”
Below features a look back at some of the Oil Pit action these last several weeks, as the ladies of FAWN via for a shot at usurping the Raven in her slippery domain. Hope you enjoy!
~rf
********
Frustration. Sierra couldn’t hide it.
Rebuilding Lisa in the image she deserved had been more grueling than Mist had imagined. The Dream was back in physical fighting trim and she’d managed to survive all the relatively safe tests thrown at her since besting Nurse Manners at March to War, but the bloom of her return was off the rose. While people no longer booed the reformed Lisa, they hadn’t been able to get fully behind her either, especially when Sierra had been forced to ‘trigger’ Lisa late in what might have otherwise been losing efforts.
LISA DREAM:
The PhD-to-be didn’t particularly like setting Lisa off into a manic display of demolition that looked nothing like the fair play she’d use through the rest of a fight, but she wasn’t about to let Lisa lose without all avenues being exhausted. She would NOT let Lisa drop down the ladder. She couldn’t. And how would it look when she submitted her thesis if The Dream became a mid-carder under her con…tutelage. Not only was The Dream’s career on the line, but hers was as well.
Lenore Lemarchand and the oily, golden-brown remains of a defeated Amara Singh had made the pit the exotic ‘it’ location and when Bethany offered The Dream a drop into the slippery substance, Mist signed the contract without a second thought, opponent unknown. Well, not completely. She made sure it wouldn’t be the Raven. Not yet.
CLAUDIA ROONEY:
What never entered into the plan is the woman who would take up the opportunity might be as adept at battling within the slippery goo. Claudia Rooney had run Lisa ragged through ten minutes of a twenty-minute time limit and the legendary, but yes, older Lisa was looking more hot mess than perfection Of course, Lisa Dream sans her usual leather pants, instead slick and slippery in a zebra-stripe bikini was an attention grabber, but being routed by Rooney while grabbing said attention. Not good.
Sierra shouted encouragement from just outside the rim of the baby oil-soaked environs, Lisa on her rear end, Claudia likewise but behind the brunette, Full nelson in place by Rooney leaving The Dream’s arms trapped above her head, unable to pry at the breathtaking Scissors, the alabaster-skinned Claudia used to crush Lisa’s ribs.
“C’mon Lisa,” Mist shouted.
Sierra started a rhythmic clap and a few people took her up on it, but even she stopped after the redhead leeeeaned back, bringing Lisa with her, then thrust her pelvis up and forward, ramming Dreamy tailbone into the pit floor with a Keester Bounce. Though padded, it wasn’t a pleasant sensation, as evidenced by the Dreamy wince.
Savoring every bit of her dominance over a multi-time former World Champion, Claudia pushed down on the Nelson, forcing the Dream’s chin into the top of her modest cleavage even as she turned the Scissors into a Grapevine that streeeeeeeeeeeetched Lisa’s sinewy stems at a remarkably unpleasant angle. “Who do you think you’re kidding?” the redhead chided Sierra. “You think these idiots are really going to get behind this head-case? Blassenville’s bedside manner might suck, but she knew enough to lock this one up and throw away the key!” Lisa groaned, swiped at Rooney’s hair, so Claudia switched back to the Bodyscissors and punished her with another violent squeeze. Leaning in close, she nuzzled her lips to Lisa’s ear and murmured, “Are you ready to give up, punk? Or do you want the nurse to do it for you?”
“Don’t listen to her, Dream!” Sierra called from her place on the outside. “She doesn’t have what it takes to put you--”
Claudia leaned back again, drawing the taller woman into her lap for a good five seconds before she THWHUMPED her tush against the oily floor of the pit. Lisa jolted hard but couldn’t get free and her position only grew worse when Rooney rolled her over onto her belly. Stretched out atop the flagging brunette, Claudia used the Nelson to keep Dream’s cheek against the mat while her hips SMECKED against Lisa’s glutes over and over again, the one time Trophy Wife doing her best to break Dream’s rejuvenated spirits with the catty tactic.
Chin on the coated plastic, Lisa looked longingly at her young mentor and liberator in front of her. Something about wrestling under these conditions didn't seem right, but Sierra convinced her it would be an excellent way to prove her continued recovery and The Dream wanted nothing more than to make Sierra proud. 'GRUNT' The thought is driven from her mind by another pelvic thrust to her already aching backside. The Dream tries to roll her foe and at least get on top again, if not under control, but Rooney wasn’t having it. She pulled Lisa's noggin off the pit floor with her Nelson and SLAMMED the face of the Ultimate Image into the oily surface, Johnson & Johnson's splattering in several directions from under the impact.
Claudia gleefully rubbed Lisa's flawless features into the floor. "You took her out of a padded cell for this?" she barked at the worried visage of the PhD-to-be. Claudia releases her grapevine and started to move toward a crouching straddle of Lisa, that damned Full Nelson still tight for the moment.
Rooney maintained control over Dream’s arms until her knees were practically touching her elbows. Only then did break hold and slide into a full straddle of the brunette’s shoulders. “Yeah, you were better off away from all this, honey.” Claudia helped herself to the brunette’s hair and BWUNKED her forehead against the floor again, all the better to keep Lisa docile while she carefully trapped the Perfect One’s biceps in the pits of her knees. With Lisa’s arms effectively trapped, Claudia took a moment to unleash a flurry of slaps to the back of Dream’s head, a haughty show of dominance that raised a cheer from those who hadn’t quite bought into Lisa’s rehabilitation.
Sierra Mist was far from pleased by these developments and she swatted the edge of the pit in obvious frustration. “C’MON, DREAM! DON’T LET HER EMBARRASS YOU LIKE THAT!”
Rooney stopped and looked over one shoulder. “What, you don’t approve of my methods? Perhaps I should embarrass her like this?” The Red Menace leaned back, grabbed hold of Lisa’s black n’ white briefs at each hip and leaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaned forward to punish her with a catastrophic wedgie! Hardly content with a mere thong, Claudia halved her grip, flattened that hand into a paddle and began to paddle out a decidedly nightmarish beat on Lisa’s cheeks, her boot-leg Symphony drawing groans from the Dream and nearly visible steam from Sierra’s ears.
Dark eyes welling from the invasion of her undercarriage by the wedged material, Lisa yelped and her body flinched with each stinging slap and sawing tug. Her arms freed by Rooney's change of tactics, The Dream pressed her palms into the slipper plastic and tried to push up but she flopped back to her chin and chest and paid for it with another round of Butt Bongos from the delighted Rooney. "You stayed past your expiration date, honey. And now you're looking and smelling a little over-ripe."
Sierra bit her lower lip and began to chew as Lisa's zebra stripes disappeared between her cheeks, those glutes turning beet red under the shimmering oily sheen. "Lisa," Sierra shouted, drawing the tear-streaked mug toward her gaze. "Show these people. Show Rooney and the rest of them you're PERFECT."
A furious focus entered the leaking brown pools and The Dream drew a line of clear mucous back into a nostril. With a fury that had been missing from the start, Lisa shot her legs off the floor and swung each, hammer-like, into the ribs of the slightly turned redhead. Hearing the thumps of impacts and the grunt of pain, not to mention noticing the slight loosening of the floss in the cleft of her ass, The Dream used the slippery substance to spin to her back. With Claudia still straddling the front of her thighs, Lisa crunched her ivory abs and sat up close enough to throw her right arm around the back of Claudia's neck and tried to secure a Guillotine Choke while peppering her with piston-like left hooks.
Startled by the slick corkscrew of Lisa’s counter, not to mention the crystal clear purpose shining in those dark eyes, Rooney couldn’t stop the Ultimate Image from catching her noggin in the Front Facelock. Even worse, she was still processing this first development when Dream leaned back and twisted to one side, effectively forcing the wrestlers to switch places on the mat. Cranking the Front Facelock harder than ever, Lisa slipped her stems beneath Claudia’s flailing feet and repaid an earlier punishment with a hamstring-straining Grapevine.
“YEAH, THAT’S IT!” Sierra cheered as her patient regained control of the contest. “MAKE HER SUFFE-SUBMIT! MAKE HER SUBMIT!”
Lisa didn’t bother to repeat the demand, she simply wrenched up on the redhead’s captured skull and stretched the Grapevine a little wider. Baring her teeth as the hold punished her on multiple fronts, Claudia curled one hand into a fist and beat it against the Dream’s dripping flank while the other sought the former champion’s waistband to compound the misery of that stinging wedgie. Lisa endured both without comment, though she provided an answer of sorts by THWAPPING her hips against Rooney’s gulping tummy once, twice, three times. Breaking into a confused sort of smile as Claudia groaned beneath her, the lissome brunette tightened her hooks and murmured, “I’m Lisa Dream, stupid.”
"Don't you mean you're stupid, Lisa Dream." Claudia grunted. The comment didn't do the redhead any favors as Lisa rattled her captured head from side to side. But when the stubborn Rooney again pulled her grip on the now G-string of The Dream's bottoms, Lisa did indeed give up her Guillotine. The veteran wasn't in turn rewarded by Claudia with a release of the garment on her end. Anything but. However, firmly planted atop her foe, she's in a better position to more immediately convince Claudia it's a bad idea. Rising from a full body-on-body to a straddling kneel of Rooney's midriff, Lisa pushed her left palm under Rooney' chin to shove her foe's head back and, with her right, sinks her nails into Claudia's pert bosom. The location also made it more difficult for Claudia to work her wedgie, but not impossible as Lisa continued to find. With the Grapevine gone, Lisa's forced to ride through the Claudia's thrashing and the maneuver looks like a mistake when the Ultimate Image got jostled from side to side, struggling to keep the redhead beneath her.
Sensing she had the brain-addled brunette off balance, Claudia halved her control over the wedgie and added several punches to Lisa’s flank for good measure. Give the Dream credit, she redoubled her own efforts on the redhead’s chest and answered the punches with several hard slaps to the face. But the oil was a notoriously turbulent medium and eventually Rooney’s squirming allowed her to dump Lisa to one side. They landed side by side in what would’ve been a surprisingly intimate position if not for the hate congested sneer on Claudia’s face. Throwing a leg over Dream’s hip to try to keep her in place, the Red Menace grabbed a handful of hair and went to bounce her head against the floor.
Sierra saw this and grimaced, displeased by the other woman’s continued defiance of the Dream. “Fight fire with fire, Lisa! No rules in the oil, remember?”
The look on Lisa’s face said she didn’t, but that didn’t stop her from filling her hands with Rooney’s bounty and twisting like she was searching for radio stations at opposite ends of the dial. Claudia shrieked and turned her attention to the brunette’s wrists in a feverish attempt to end those hateful claws.
Dream wriggled her backside like she had the overwhelming urge to release one of her claws to pick the floss free from her ass cheeks now that the spandex was without a grip from the redhead. She bore down instead, trying to rip Rooney's breasts to shreds. The concentration on her task allowed Claudia to shift Lisa to her back, but The Dream immediately responded by wrapping her ivory-skinned legs around Claudia's midriff in a Scissors, the returnee learning from Rooney's previous Grapevine. A grimacing Claudia seemed to realize she'll need to batter Lisa out of her double breast claw instead of prying. She released her right palm from around The Dream's left wrist and drew the arm back slightly to deliver a forearm shot to Lisa's chin. But as she threw, the brunette gave up both her grips and wrapped her palms around the blocked thrust. Lisa pulled the right arm of her foe straight and slipped her Scissors up Claudia's frame, the legs converging around the back of Rooney's neck. Instantly, Claudia's dark eyes widened with concern while Lisa's perfect pearlies clenched in an effort to secure the Triangle Choke. yt
“YEAH, GO ON!” Sierra clapped her hands. “CHOKE HER OUT! SEND HER TO DREAMLAND!”
Claudia heard this and gurgled in disgust, but she didn’t have the time or the breath to waste on an actual response. Struggling against the encroaching wedge of her own bicep, the Silent Siren reached up with her free hand and slapped at Dream’s face a few times before settling in for a nasty hair-hold. Lisa grimaced and leaned back. This didn’t do much for the claw in her hair, it did however allow the former World Champ to thrust her hips up into Claudia’s chin over and over again. Quickly flagging as the Triangle did its work, Rooney dug deep into her reserves and clambered to her knees. Freeing Lisa’s hair from her grip, she planted that hand against the floor of the pit so she could muster as much leverage as possible when she surged forward in a desperate attempt to power through Lisa’s gammy trap!
But as Claudia moved forward, Lisa threw her weight to the left and sent Rooney tumbling to her side. With the 'smeck' of the redhead's body slapping against the oily plastic, Lisa tightened her Scissoring choke. Her legs spasmed for a moment but Sierra offered The Dream the 'perfect' reassurance and a vicious brutality was instilled in both The Dream's lower limbs and her flawless features. Scissors renewed at more than its initial strength and with Lisa adding the occasional violent rattle, The Dream growled she's ready to rip Rooney's arm from its socket for good measure and hit the redhead over her ginger locks with the limb until she gave in.
Vision spotting, breath hitching, Claudia made a final push to get through the trap, but Dream’s stems were too tight and she’s too weak. Galled at the prospect of losing consciousness in the pit, the redhead flattened her hand into a paddle and swatted Lisa’s flank repeatedly. “Give.” she rasped. “Giiiiiivvvvve!”
Sierra and the referee both heard it, as evidenced by the CLANG of the bell and a shouted ‘YES!’ respectively. Lisa however proved a different story, as she continued to wrench and twist on the Triangle long after the bell faded into the background din. Though she was delighted by the brunette’s ferocity, Sierra didn’t want the decision reversed on a technicality, so she slapped the edge of the pit and said, “That’s enough, Dream! I said that’s enough!”
Lisa let go and spun to one knee, but made no move to follow the snap of Sierra’s demanding fingers. Even more concerning, she threw a leg over Claudia’s head and sat down full force, engulfing the Wannadream’s imperfect features in her glorious glutes. Again, it wasn’t the action that Mist minded, but the fact that Dream did it seemingly of her own accord. In the pit, Lisa planted her hands atop Rooney’s gulping tummy and bounced hard, seemingly trying to send the other woman’s face in search of her distended stripes.
Eventually the last of Claudia’s resistance joined the rest of her in Dreamland, leaving the victorious brunette to get to her feet. Breathing a sigh of relief as her charge tended to those tormented briefs, Sierra patted the side of the pit and said, “C’mon Lisa, we’re done he--”
Lisa bent down, grabbed hold of Rooney’s crimson top and snatched it away before tucking the trophy into her own waistband. Looking to Mist, she nodded once and murmured, “I’m Lisa Dream, stupid.”
Sierra drew Lisa in for a hug, oil be damned. The second trigger had been a little more destabilizing than she would've liked. She'd have to work on that in the office sessions with her subject. Taking the top made Mist wince and she eventually lowered The Dream's adrenaline level enough to have her toss it back to the stirring Claudia, the crimson spandex landing next to Rooney. "Remember," Sierra whispered, "you're my good girl."
The Dream nodded, wiping some excess oil from her glistening beaming face. "Of course, Sierra. Of course.”
********
GABBY MENDOZA:
The frustration of losing the Queens of the Ring tourney finale earlier in the year figured to be fuel for Gabby Mendoza’s fire, but the months following without appearing on a Pay-Per-View led to rumors she was ready to strike out on her own and head full-time back to singles to retake the lightweight crown. Though she’d denied up and down any plan on leaving Ginnifer Chadwick high and dry and without a partner, appearing in tonight’s oily showcase spoke volumes the Babyfaced Killer might indeed be expanding her horizons into FAWN’s new flashpoint.
There’d been gossip she’d demanded a chance to take down the Oil Baroness Lenore Lemarchand immediately, but cooler heads had apparently prevailed. Instead, Gabby was sliding around the pit in a magenta bandeau bikini with a certain juicy Strawberry.
CHLOE FIELDS:
Chloe Fields, another former sub-125 titleholder, bowed out in the Queens tourney’s first round with her bestie Katya Michalka. After separating herself from her jobber past by a good distance with her light title run, she too was having trouble gaining traction.
The same slippery slope was showing tonight as well, the lithe Latina seeming to one-up the tawny Fields at most every turn around the spongy, slippery enclosure. Chloe’s feline frame seemed ideal for oil, but as of yet, the pink bikini-clad Chloe was failing the greasy pop quiz presented her. And things got no better as Fields, chest and facedown, had Gabby applied liberally to her back in a full body-to-body ride. Mendoza slipped a shiny right arm across Chloe’s jaw and linked her hands in a crossface grip, ripping Chloe’s head to the side, growling cutely as she worked at Fields’ neck like she wants to remove braincase from body.
Fields groaned in obvious discomfort as the Wrigley Enthusiast tried to mangle her jaw, but the former Lightweight Champion chirped a defiant ‘no!’ when the ref (safely positioned just outside the confines of the Pit) asked her about surrender. Mendoza didn’t much care for the defiance, so she transitioned from Crossface to Chinlock, which she promptly halved to pinch Chloe‘s nostrils shut. “Give up, bytch-face!” she demanded while trying to remove the other brunette’s nose like it was nothing more than a particularly stubborn piece of gum. “Or I’ll choke you out with those tacky extensOOOOOWWWWW!”
Chloe Fields was never going to top anyone’s ‘Most Vicious’ list, but the Upstart showed more than a little fire by snatching a huge handful of Mendoza’s dark hair! It didn’t return her nose, but it shifted Gabby’s position just enough for Chloe to spin around onto her back. Quick to secure a snug, shiny Scissors around her opponent’s hips, Chloe yanked her opponent’s head to the side and earned a raucous round of applause when she demanded, “STOP BEING SUCH A JERK, GABBY!” She punctuated with a single heavy slap that CRAAAACKED off domineering battler’s oil shined cheek.
Mendoza's head whipped to the side, her features growing rosy from the reverberating SMACK. The baby face returned and Mendoza went nose to nose, staring down at Strawberry. “Was that supposed to hurAHHHH!”
Gabby’s repartee was cut short as Fields’ sinewy thighs cinched tight around Mendoza’s midriff, Chloe locking ankles at the base of Gabby’s spin. The Scissors drew the first look of pain and concern the Terrible Texan had shown in minutes and the uncertain breathlessness of her foe stirred Chloe further. She wrapped an arm around the back of Gabby’s dipped head and locked in a Guillotine.
“Sorry meanie, but this oil stuff is blowin’ up and I need to move my Upstart ass up the ladder, so night night!” Chloe buried the crown of Gabby’s head into the oil-covered, blue plastic covering of the pit, clamping her grip even tighter. The gurgles from Mendoza made her more than a little uncomfortable, but if anyone deserved it, Gabby did, Chloe told herself.
Having control was encouraging, but the pouty-lipped brunette wanted a little more security and having Mendoza straddling her, even in her vulnerable position, wasn’t a spot Fields could fully enjoy. So she wrenched the ebony-maned Mendoza to the side, hoping to end up with the same choke and Scissors, but she on her left side and Gabby on her right.
With her head and ribs firmly in control of Straw Beary’s favorite wrestler, Gabz was in no position to argue Chloe’s shift of position, let alone do a damned thing about it. Regaining a little bit of her equilibrium once she wasn’t staring at nothing but blue canvas, Mendoza flattened her hands into paddles and SLAPPED Fields’s flanks as hard as she could.
Chloe pursed her lips in concentration, shook her head ‘no’ and stretched her legs out full length, all the better to squeeeeeeeeeeeze her flailing foe. “What’s your favorite pre-nap gum?” she teased. “Are you chewing it now? Because I think you’re about donOOOOOWWW!”
Mendoza crooked her hands into talons and raked ‘em up down Chloe’s back no less than half a dozen times. “Wouldn’t ask any questions about my gum if I were you, geek.” the brunette croaked. “Unless you want to inspect it after I’ve glued it to your foreheaAAAAAAHHHHHH BYTCH!”
Out to prove she wasn’t hapless in one of FAWN’s more outré venues, Fields reached down with one hand, grabbed hold of Gabby’s waistband and yanked it halfway to her shoulders. “Maybe you should just spit it out right now!” Chloe giggled even as she tried to saw the struggling battler in half. “Unless you wanna submit with a mouthful of gum!”
"AWWSHYYT" Gabby howled, fitfully reaching behind her to wrest her togs free or at least downward to soothe the worst of that creeping burn. She mewled softly after creating some slack only for Chloe to YANK up again. If she could've gone to tiptoes Mendoza might have. Instead she could only yelp and offer muffled threats between. The lovely Latina, tide turning against her, stuffed some fists into Chloe's taut flanks. Gabby hit ribs on one side and went a little lower for Strawberry's liver on the other. She could feel Fields' arm loosening even if Chloe's legs continue to feel as if the dimpled goof might cut her in half and she's able to pop her head from the Guillotine, mug slick with sweat and baby oil.
Startled by her opponent’s abrupt escape, Fields’s lack of experience in cattier arenas proves a costly liability as she froze just long enough for Gabby to swipe one smartly-manicured hand across her eyes! Chloe wailed and clutched at her face, meaning the Baby Faced Killer was free to vent some frustration with a quick, heavy left-right-left combo to her opponent’s slick midsection! The Bubblicious body shots put an end to Chloe’s Scissors and marked the beginning of a dangerous new era as the heavier brunette straddled her opponent’s waist. Snatching hold of Fields’s wrists, Mendoza pinned them high overhead, then leaned down and slid back, all the better to hook her calves under Chloe’s.
“Uuuuunnnnnnggggggghhhhh!” Strawberry moaned as Gabby pinned her to the floor with a spiteful Double Leg Grapevine.
“Still interested in my gum, bytch face?” Mendoza waited until Fields opened her eyes, then blew a large, orange bubble less than an inch from the tip of Chloe’s nose.
Gabby leaned forward and used Fields' nose to pop her sugary sphere, the remnants of which exploded across the already watery eyes of the dimpled brunette. Dark peepers already burning, now sugar and saliva covered them as well, increasing the pain and decreasing her vision. Chloe squealed in anguish, writhing wildly to try an get a hand free and wipe bubble remains from her eyes.
Pulling what gum she could back in with her darting tongue, Mendoza collected about half her wad, then stretched her legs wide, forcing the tanned stems of Fields wider still. The nasty Latina gave up her grips on Chloe's wrists to push her torso up and off Fields's frame then dropped in a full body mini-splash that sent oil splattering from between those nubile bodies. The collision drew a soft groan as Chloe rubbed furiously at her peepers. Distracted as she tried to clear her vision, Strawberry didn’t notice Gabby push up again and drop with surprising force, sandwiching and flattening the flagging Fields.
The Upstart certainly noticed the second Big League Drop, not that she was in any position to stop Mendoza from punishing her with the same ‘SMECKING’ tactic another half dozen times. Settling down only when she was satisfied with the wheezy tone of Fields’s breathing, Gabby forced the other brunette’s hands behind her head in a pose that might’ve been fetching if she’d had any control over it. But control was in short supply, as Mendoza reminded her when she cinched her arms around Chloe’s biceps and leaned in to drop her chest atop Fields’s surprised features! “Yeah, that’s right bytch face, whimper and groan!” Mendoza teased as Chloe sputtered against her encroaching juggs. “Maybe if you groan loud enough I won’t leave my gum in your hair!”
Biting her bottom lip, she glanced up, spotted the referee and offered him a coy smile. ‘I’m TOTALLY leaving my gum in her hair.’ she mouthed. Oblivious to anything save her growing need for oxygen, Fields bucked and twisted, the former champ leading with her hips and tummy in a desperate bid for freedom.
Hardly known for the size of her cups, Mendoza used them effectively, keeping Chloe's mouth and nose mostly filled with flesh, even if it's not the vapor lock some of the chestier girls could manage. Her Grapevine having moved to calves on thighs, the Texan could still wedge Chloe's legs wide enough to keep her from finding a base with which to push up or roll over. When the gum-smacker chose to give up her vines, she only did so to SLAM a knee savagely into Chloe's honey pot. Dimples activated as her face clenched in agony, dark eyes rolling white, the greasy, frozen features were soon swallowed by dominating Latina tummy as Gabby slid up to apply abs and put a unique stamp on Chloe's oily failure. She slapped flat, taut tummy down on Fields' face while grinding a knee into her foe's throbbing mound. "It's gonna be so hard to get my 'Licious out, bytch face. So hard. "
Savaged on two distinct fronts, Chloe momentarily forgot about the fire down below when Gabby secured the Tummy Smother. Slapping and pawing at the Texan’s toned sides, Fields was promptly reminded of the second half of the diabolical Double Mint equation when Mendoza grrrrrrrrrooooooooooound her knee into the Upstart’s crotch. “MMMMPPPHHH OOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWW!” Fields resumed her previous bucking, albeit with much less force than before.
“Ohhhhh, does that hurt?” Gabby teased after a particularly jarring Kneelift. “Baby wanna tap out? Huh? Baby wanna tap out?” She doubled down on Chloe’s dark hair and yanked until her knuckles showed white. Fields keened and whined but still wouldn’t surrender not even after one more vindictive shot below the belt. Angered by the loser’s tenacity, Gabby Mendoza suddenly straightened up and hopped / slid forward so that the fork of her crotch was wedged against the point of Chloe’s chin. “First things first.” she reached into her mouth, produced a remarkably large wad of gum and stuck it between her opponent’s glassy eyes!
“Oooogghhh… yuhhhh… you’re so nastAAAAIIIIIIEEEE!” Gabz clamped a claw between Chloe’s thighs and set to work with the sort of vigor usually seen from the Dennehy clan.
“GIVE UP!” she chided while bouncing heavily on her opponent’s neck. “GIVE UP! GIVE UP! GIVE UP! GIVE--”
The bell CLANGED because Fields was paddling the oil with a series of flat slaps that doused the ref in a greasy spray. Beaming as her name was announced, Gabby scooted up to snug her undercarriage against the defeated brunette’s muzzle. “You can keep that.” she tapped the wad of gum on Chloe’s forehead. “I’ve got plenty to go ‘round.” As proof the victrix reached into her trunks, nudged a small pocket in the waistband and produced a single wrapped piece of Bazooka Joe. Discarding the comic wrapper atop Chloe’s gulping tummy, Gabby chewed thoughtfully, then blew and popped a large, pink bubble. “Yeah, I think I could get used to this.”
****
POLLY LOCKWOOD:
Polly denied it up and down. Cries of FAKE NEWS shouted by Lockwood about when some FAWN smarks claimed she demanded a scheduled oil pit fracas against Nyssa Bloodwind be changed to another willing flyweight. Her 1-3 singles record against the Nubile Navajo certainly made the rumors believable, but those who knew for sure weren’t talking.
Instead, Polly stepped into the pit with a win against Bloodwind and her sister in the first show of Collusion, her new partnership with rookie Kira Koslova, without fear of it being overshadowed by some fluke follow-up loss to the Native American.
Likely feeling a little overconfident in avoiding tempting fate with the scrappy Nyssa, the star-spangled bytch huffed in early fatigue, the blonde robobabe on her knees, sharing a tight embrace with the likewise situated Ukrainian party girl Katya Michalka.
KATYA MICHALKA:
Blonde and brunette pressed against each other, arms wide, fingers laced, the women trying to power the other onto the slippery, spongy surface of their battlefield.
“Your President gave the bastard Putin free reign in my country,” a livid Kat growled, her little biceps bulging. “I cannot make him pay, but you will be the perfect stand-in, comrade.”
"FAKE...GODDAMNED...NEWS," Polly yelled between deep tugs of oxygen. But despite the apparent adrenaline, it's the blonde's arms that were quaking.
“Oh, so it is real news that interests now?” Katya huffed as she slowly but surely rolled the blonde’s hands back over her wrists. “Then how about this headline? Lockwood cries like brat on first night as Katya’s personal dance floor!”
With that she yanked Polly’s hands down to three and nine respectively and plowed forward like a kinetic little wrecking ball! Already straining against Michalka’s compact power, Lockwood collapsed backward in a painful arch that would’ve trapped her legs beneath her torso if not for the slipperiness of their surroundings. Even so, Kat scrambled into a high, snug mount and promptly kicked the party into overdrive by dropping the beat (which was to say, her tush) on the blonde’s chest no less than half a dozen times!
Huffing and squirming with each new Booty Bump, Polly brought her legs up in search of a Scissors and found a Matchbook instead! Catching the former Lightweight Champ’s stems under her arms, Katya scooted up and leaned forward until Lockwood’s chin was less than an inch from her navel. “Give up!” she demanded. “Unless you want me to keep on dancing!”
"I'm a freakin' American. You wouldn't darePHHHMMMMPHH." Polly's certitude was proven unfounded as she tasted the satiny saltiness of Kat's tummy. When the Ukrainian gave up her grip on Lockwood's limbs and scooted forward, it appeared Polly might be getting an altogether different meal. The tawny-skinned exotique pelvic thrusts her undercarriage over the blonde's slippery torso and up to Lockwood's chin, then sneaking over the top.
"I said I'M AN AMERICAMMPPPHHH!"
Served humble pie, the Pernicious Patriot's lips were sent below decks, Katya's shiny silver bikini bottoms resting atop her foe's mouth. "The first step to throwing you all out is shutting you up." Polly's flailing arms moved to Kat's hips, trying to halt her foe's progress before ass was planted on her flaring nostrils.
Lockwood’s resistance was kinetic, no doubt about that, but in the end it was about as threatening as a wacky waving inflatable tube man and Michalka got a THUNDEROUS round of applause when she smooshed Polly’s pert little nose between her cheeks. Matchbook still in place, Kat punished her blonde with a tawdry little house mix bump n’ grind, then straightened up and streeeeeeeeeeeetched those captured gams in a wide, treasonous Wishbone.
“Got anything to say now, cupcake?” the brunette chided. “Actually, never mind. I don’t want to hear anything out of you unless it’s I quitTEEERRRGGHHH AAAAAHHHH!”
Simply freeing herself from Kat’s cradle was impossible, so Lockwood endured the Rave Queen’s humbling baseline until she managed to turn her head sideways and CHOMP down on encroaching thigh! Even that didn’t free her from the Face Sit, but Michalka tossed her legs away without thinking about it and Polly’s second go at hooking her foe’s waist yielded an impromptu Sunset Flip that put Katya on her back and Lockwood on her bum. Quick to hook her legs over the brunette’s biceps, Polly reached around the other wrestler’s trim waist and sank a pair of claws into her gulping belly!
Digging her ruby tips into the shiny, olive skin of the Ukrainian's abdomen with both sets of talons, the greasy-faced and gasping Yank drew in deep breaths even as she forced yips of pain from her Eastern European antagonist. "Why... do... they... keep... letting... you... people…"
The huffs kept Polly's words broken until she exchanged her claws for laced fists and provided an extremely uncomfortable Heimlich to the reclined Katya, bare soles pointed to the rafters with her upper half flat to the pit floor. Polly raised her right leg and aimed a heel between the dark, almond-shaped peepers of Michalka. Unfortunately for the small band of Polly's Patriots, it hit home just as Kat slammed her gams together in the leggy version of an Ear-Ringer that dazed the Fox&Friendly blonde. Polly slopped to her side, causing a spray of oil to push out from underneath. But Kat, on her back, had glassy eyes as well after the dual impacts, and the women remain matbound in a cockeyed capital 'L' shape, toll high, consciousness low.
Neither grappler moved for the first half of the official’s standing ten count and the FAWNatics, worried by the distinct possibility of a draw, began to clap their hands and stomp their feet in hopes of drawing Katya back to the dance floor. Well it took a few more seconds but Michalka sat up at ‘EIGHT!’ and earned a louder round of applause by spanking out a quick groove on Lockwood’s oil-sheened thigh.
“Think this party’s about over, babe.” Kat muttered as she circled around to Polly’s noggin. “But I’ve got one more jam to send you on your way.”
Hooking a Half Nelson to slop Lockwood onto her belly, Kat plunged her hands into the blonde’s hair and lifted her chin out of the oil just high enough to thread her legs around the pundit’s ne--“OOOOOOOOWWWW!”
Michalka shrieked in agonized surprise when Polly chomped down on her inner thigh, practically at the juncture of thigh and torso. Scrambling to all fours without ending her snack, Lockwood wedged her shoulders into Kat’s knees and bulled forward until the brunette was stacked on her shoulders. From there she straightened up and grabbed hold of Michalka’s calves, better to keep her folded and prone while Polly got up slid forward just far enough to take a heavy, unpleasant seat on the other Lightweight’s upturned haunches.
With the Party Girl folded and Lockwood seated squarely in position to keep her that way, the star-spangled bytch slid down the ramp of Kat's upturned hammies, the future Trumpian District Court Judge ending atop the pits of Michalka's knees, palms pressing into the back of the Rave Queen's ankles. Katya struggled to free herself, but even in the slick goo, Lockwood couldn’t be budged. If the match included pin-falls, it would have ended there. Fortunately, or depending on the next moments, significantly less so, Kat remained a viable participant in the match.
She became increasingly less so when the blue-eyed, bite-sized blonde shoved the glistening, lower limbs of the Party Girl outward, into an increasingly wide set of splits that's far enough toward full to draw a grimace from the limber Ukrainian. The widened legs also allowed Polly's backside to find a resting place on Kat's mound and she hops into a butt bounce that found the sweet spot. Another couple Keester Crashes below the belt had Katya's eyes rolling and Polly's tongue wagging. "Don't blame my President that Putin is a strong leader and he decided your country is weak."
Polly dropped her derriere into the aching area once more then leaned back so she could strreeetch Katya's legs wider still. "Give up now or I'll make sure your green card will be in a hundred pieces by night's end."
Desperate to reverse this dystopian predicament in which she was currently mired, Kat squirmed her legs as forcefully as she could and when that didn’t work she set her nails to work raaaaaaaaking the blonde’s flanks and glutes. “GED OVF!” she demanded.
Pretty features twisted in an angry pout, Polly buried a hand in Michalka’s dark hair and yaaaaaaaaaaanked until the Rave Queen was keened against the Stars & Stripes! “How DARE you disrespect my flag like that!” Lockwood after huffed following a single tart slap to the other woman’s forehead. “It looks like you never learned the meaning of the phrase, ‘Don’t Tread on Me.’ Well you’re going to learn tonight, yes you will.”
Still holding a hank of Kat’s hair in her left hand, Polly twisted around and proceeded to score the back of her opponent’s thighs from buttock to knee. Often criticized for her mercurial temper, Lockwood took her time with this particular torture, unleashing no less than a baker’s dozen of slow, sweeping strokes across those defenseless muscles. Only satisfied when Kat’s legs were almost fire engine red, Polly crooked that hand into a vicious talon and affixed it to the center of those tiny silver trunks.
“MMMMMAAAAWWWWW GUUUUUUHHHHHHAAAHHHH!” Michalka bucked much harder than before, alas her efforts brought on even more patriotic fervor from the blonde, who raised her free hand to her brow in a salute that quickly transformed into one of the single fingered variety. It was amidst this show of blatant disrespect that Katya began slapping the floor of the pit over and over and over again. “STAAAAAAHB! STAAAAHHHHB PHOLLY!”
But Lockwood didn’t seem interested in ending her attack. She dug her claw in deeper and clenched tighter, drawing howls of protest from the glistening, sobbing Partied Out Girl. Her crotch on fire, Kat slapped the plastic covering of the pit more frantically, pleading with the blonde to relent. "I QUIT...I QUIT!"
"As well you should," Polly grunted, "When you're in with a superior woman from a superior country." Lockwood gives one final twist of the silver and the flesh beneath and scooted toward a Reverse Face Sit of the greasy wide-eyed features of Katya. "And if you EVER spread fake news again, comrade Kira and I will make you and any other Upstart sorry you're still in this country."
Her piece said, Polly plopped her muscular, behind square on a throne of the Rave Queen's mug. She remained there until the spasms of Kat's body cease and the official threatened to reverse her glorious, patriotic victory.
******
MAEVE KANE:
They’d fought tummy against tummy steadily for the last twelve minutes, each lass taking turn in control as she managed to hook a leg over her opponent’s hip thus anchoring her in place in the notoriously slippery oil. It never lasted more than twenty seconds at a time though, even with furious bursts of hair pulling, sharp slaps to the face or greedy, mean-spirited handfuls of her opponent’s top, neither lass could impose their will long enough to secure a fight winning mount.
Grunting in dismay as the limber brunette once again slung a leg across her hip, Maeve Kane snugged a palm against the side of her opponent’s face and deftly slipped her thumb into the corner of Lenore’s mouth! Lemarchand cried out and redoubled her efforts on the Irishwoman’s blonde hair, so Maeve took the brunette’s nose between the knuckles of her fore and middle fingers and gave it a sharp twist! “Led me on a chase, Lemarchand.” the challenger huffed. “But now you’re mine. And I mean to have EEERRRRRRRHHHHH!”
LENORE LEMARCHAND:
Not about to be outmatched by Kane’s callousness, Lenore wormed a hand into her challenger’s top and tried to find K-Q-U-I-T on Maeve’s personal dial. “That what you were after, Maeve?” Lemarchand sneered as she worked the nipple pincer. “Because there’s plenty more where that came from, honey.”
Kane winced, swallowing any verbalization that might show weakness. Maeve was always on the brawling side when it came to catfighting, but with the oily pit usually keeping grapplers on their knees at the most vertical, it made her natural tendencies more difficult to employ. The newly minted, shoulder-length, golden locks of Kane were greasy and matted from the oily tumbles and required being swept out of emerald eyes, so the Irishwoman gave up her grip on the Raven's beak.
"Ya crazy wench," Maeve hisses through the twisty. "Ya haven't had to face a pissed off lass from my Isle and ya dunna know what ya dealin' wit." The tag legend withdrew her hooked thumb and loaded a forearm, sending the right barreling into Lenore's jaw. The head of the Oil Baroness swung violently in the opposite direction, an oily spray sent flying from the tips of the Raven's long dark locks. "Ya been takin' out these girls that want to pussyfoot witcha. Kanes? We jus want to fight." Maeve yanked Lenore's loosened pincer off her bosom and readied fire with another clubbing forearm aimed at her foe's temple.
Lemarchand couldn’t avoid the shot entirely, but she got her own arm up just in time to absorb the worst of it. Grunting as her bicep smacked against her cheek, she balled one hand into a fist and THWHUMPED it deep into the blonde’s sturdy midsection. “You have any idea how many times I’ve heard chicks tell me I’m not ready for them? Usually a few minutes before I have them pleading for mercy!”
She followed up with another heavy punch to Irish belly, but groaned when Kane clouted her across the tits. Coming to the conclusion that she didn’t want to simply exchange shots with the veteran, Lenore grrrroooound her knee into the side of Maeve’s hip in hopes of distracting her while she sought control of the blonde’s wrists. If she could get Kane’s arms out of the way it wouldn’t be much trouble to finally get her Scissors around the challenger’s waist.
Kane snarled through Lenore's kneecap twisting into the ivory flesh over her left hip. She reached with her left hand to shove the bony joint away and the Raven took possession, a hand wrapping around the blonde's wrist. When Maeve sent her right hand to free her left, Lemarchand snatched the opposite number and had worked her strategy to perfection. Kane tried to break free of the grips, but without her arms to help her balance, she quickly slipped to her side and Lenore was immediately trying to push her lower leg underneath the blonde's body. The Queen of the Pit used the slippery plastic to sneak the limb under and she's halfway to her Scissors when Maeve used the only hard part of her anatomy available, sending a Headbutt into the taut abdomen of the Raven, hoping to turn the dire consequences approaching to a situation more favorable for the Riul.
“UNNNNGGHHH!” Lenore took the Headbutt flush, but she managed to hold onto the blonde’s wrists. Holding them at full extension above Maeve’s head, she pulled her hips backward, then thrust forward to SMECK those washboard abs into the challenger’s surprised mug! “Watch where you’re putting that thing,” Lemarchand huffed. “Unless you want me to squeeze it right OOOFFFFHHH!”
Kane hit her with a second Headbutt and celebrated by wrenching her arms free of the brunette’s control! These she quickly cinched around Lenore’s waist and drew her close, Maeve going cheek on tummy to punish the Oil Baroness with a grinding Bear Hug! Groaning as the Irish lass tried to crush her like a tube of toothpaste, Lenore palmed Kane’s shoulders and pushed down, not to escape the Hug, but to keep herself steady as she resumed her quest to introduce the blonde to her thighs.
While Kane constricted her arms around Lemarchand's midriff, determined to force every bit of air from the Raven's lungs, Lenore's questing lower limbs found the alabaster tummy of the Irishwoman and wormed their way around Maeve's midsection, Lemarchand locking her ankles behind Kane's back. Lenore lifted on her palms to increase the pressure and spun the blonde a half-turn within her squeezing legs to force her thighs into tummy and spine rather than ribs.
As furious and fight-loving as every FAWNatics knew a Kane to be, the power of any wrestler's arms could never match the strength of a set of legs. And these aren't any oily stems, but those of the Baroness, whose gams seemed to draw power from the slippery goo. They pressed tight into the blonde's belly and when Lenore's thighs clenched, Maeve's biceps and the Hug they provided began to wilt from around the Raven's abdomen.
Nodding ever so slightly as those steely stems bit deep into Maeve’s flanks, Lenore kept herself raised for the better part of fifteen seconds before settling back to the oil with a soft ‘glup’. Kane felt this and bore down on the champ’s midsection as she fought to get to her knees and possibly all the way back to verticality, Scissors be damned. Lemarchand thought this was a distinct possibility despite the energy expended thus far so she plunged her hands into Maeve’s hair and pulled as hard as she could.
“Give me your face, sweetie. I want it.”
Kane didn’t offer a ‘no’, but she growled defiantly, knowing damned well that keeping her head snug to the Raven’s tummy was key to maintaining her grip.
Lenore knew it too, so when the Irishwoman didn’t reply she curled her right arm around the back of Maeve’s noggin and proceeded to pound short, mean elbows into the crown of her opponent’s skull! Another hard squeeeeeeeeeze earned a soft moan against her tummy, so Lemarchand snatched another huge handful of hair and twisted Kane’s head so her nose was wedged tight against the Baroness’s navel!
“Give it up.” Lenore demanded, her breathing still ragged thanks to that damned Hug. “Give it up before I decide you really don’t need to breathe anymore.” (yt)
"Ya...forget...who...you...be...fightin'," Kane huffed after each heavy word, a deep tug from her full lips that gets as much of Lenore's salty, taut midriff as air; air the increasingly compressed Kane needed badly. The panic from lack of oxygen showed when the blonde gave up her embrace to flatten her palms and push them against the Raven's hips. They slipped over the Black Courtier's greasy skin several times as Maeve tried to make space between her face and Lenore's tummy.
Failing that, she moved them to Lemarchand's flexing stems and tried to wedge her arms underneath to pry her way free of the Scissors, also a fruitless task. Groaning breathlessly, she next fashioned her hands into fists and sent them out of desperation into Lenore's shimmering ivory flanks. The balled digits had gotten her out of countless jams both in and outside the ring, but these seemed to bounce off with little effect.
Lenore shook her head, pleased to be free of Kane’s coil but knowing damned well the challenger wasn’t finished. “On the contrary, I know exactly who I’m fighting. Which is the reason I’m not about to take any chances.”
With that she squeeeeeeeeeezed down on the Scissors, then rolled onto her knees and reared back on her haunches. A simple tug extricated Maeve’s face from those oily abdominals, unfortunately the blonde’s gasp of relief transformed to a groan of consternation when the Raven yanked up and THUMPED the back of her skull against the pit once, twice, three times! Kane’s questing hands finally crumpled into the oil, so Lenore sidled up and spun around so that the Irishwoman’s chin was snugged into the cleft of her glutes.
Steadying Maeve’s head with a handful of hair, Lenore lifted her up just enough to slip her left calf behind the blonde’s neck. When she sat down that shin went into the pit of her right knee and Kane was buried nose deep in those distinctive championship togs. Bouncing in place as the rattled Riul started to moan and groan, Lemarchand raised both hands high not in the usual Raven sigil, but a wicked little double squeeze to let the FAWNatics know that Maeve’s dangerous bounty was about to pay a high price.
And the bill comes quickly as Lenore sank her nails into Maeve's vaunted rack, clenching her palms and digging her nails through the thin green spandex covering the ivory orbs. From beneath Baroness bum, the muffled shrieks of Maeve were heard by only the first few rows of fans. Her hands moved to the Raven's hammies and the blonde shoved with the strength she had remaining but the tag legend's been sapped by Lenore, Lemarchand barely budged by Kane's frantic efforts. The Raven settles on her perch all the firmer and Maeve bucked wildly. One pelvic thrusting lift of the legs brought them in range of Lenore's arms. The Raven gave up her breast mauling to catch the limbs, pulling them under her arms and folding Maeve in a Matchbook, the Baroness going out of her way to also spread the alabaster stems of her Irish throne. Crotch pointed to the rafters and head swimming amidst the humid undercarriage of the Pit Mistress, the exhausted hardcase endured for another ten seconds before tapping enthusiastically to signal her surrender.
The bell rang almost immediately but Lenore didn’t relinquish the hold, choosing instead to swat Maeve’s defenseless undercarriage in time with the frenetic clanging. A few seconds later, the Announcer cleared his throat and confirmed, “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner via submission and STILL Queen of the Oil Pit… LENORE LEMARCHAND!”
Smiling, Lenore tossed Maeve’s legs away and finally raised the Raven overhead. Following the initial round of applause, she lowered her hands once more and made a show of taking the blonde’s buds between thumb and forefinger. Kane mumbled and raised her hands only to stop when Lenore said, “Hands down, sweetheart. Take your punishment or I’ll strip you down.”
Maeve grumbled in abject disgust, but the exhausted veteran put her palms flat in the oil and forced them to stay there while Lemarchand worked the nipple pincer for thirty agonizing seconds. Popping to her feet without a word when she was satisfied, Lenore smoothed out her hair with both hands, then put one on her hip while the other arm curled into a jaunty bicep flex. “Still don’t know if this is official or not,” the Raven muttered as she planted a foot atop Kane’s heaving chest, “but it still feels pretty damned good.”
