Post by dsb on Jul 15, 2018 23:55:05 GMT
The catchy groove of "Exotic” by Priyanka Chopra and Pitbull heralded a grudge match extraordinaire and the FAWNatics responded by roaring to their feet. They turned as one to the upper stage, giving the imminent arrival of India’s greatest export a cavalcade of jeers. While Lenore had her small Unkindness of Ravens in the crowd, the Golden Empress had created nothing but enmity and the animosity rose from simmer to boil quickly.
EXOTIC:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=sPhhZg9v9NU
The curtains parted, revealing a set of musclebound men, clad in gold loin clothes and sandals. The throng immediately let everyone know how much they despised the despicable Singh.
The behemoths carried an ornate bed, where upon the Bollywood Bombshell reclined in luxurious splendor. As the ‘exotic’ grappler was carried toward the ring on the curious conveyance, the FAWNatics showered her with boos.
AMARA SINGH:
The copper-skinned beauty writhed on her cushioned platform to the sound of the catchy beat. Below, the men’s gaze never left the ring, seemingly oblivious to the outstretched hands of the fans and the movements of the bronzed, ebony-haired beauty above.
The announcer proclaimed the arrival of the Subcontinent’s most acclaimed warrior with his usual fanfare. “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall with a thirty minute time limit. Introducing first, hailing from Cawnpore India, she stands at five feet six inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and thirty-three pounds. She is FAWN’s only true Empress… AMARA SINGH!”
The spectacle halted, having reached its destination. The men lowered the ornate bed so it was even with the apron and Singh gracefully slid from bedside to ringside. The deposed Oil Queen faced the crowd, eschewing her usual spellbinding Bali dance into the ring. Instead, Amara was focused, some nervous energy breaking through the steely facade. Singh slunk from beneath a sparkling gold robe and revealed the curvy form beneath.
The momentary striptease drew a round of rabid applause within the jeers, Singh dropping a pearly sneer upon the peasants. She moved through the ropes, taking center stage.
Amara was clad in an ornately designed, gold bra and matching gold and red, lacy harem pants, her feet bare. Her ebon tresses fell down to just past her shoulders in wild waves, dark copper skin glowing under the lights. Singh raised a microphone to her full rosy lips, drawing another round of catcalls. She waited for them to subside. Determining they may not, she pressed on.
“Like Vishnu, the preserver, I shall set the world right,” Amara proclaimed. “The so-called Raven has used a less than ideal environment as a trap to make a lie the truth. No true champion, no true warrior needs to rely on tricks and ploys. Where we find our truest selves is in this ring. And in this ring I will pluck every feather off the Raven and leave her a withering shell. One that will you finally understand she is nothing but a pitiful peasant and nowhere near the same league as your Empress.”
As the crowd continued to let Singh know of their displeasure, Amara tossed the microphone to the mat and headed for her corner, dark eyes turning away from a large placard stating ‘Oil and canvas…Lenore uses both for her works of art!” Instead Singh trained them on the upper stage and the nearing entrance of the woman who’d humiliated her and would now pay a supreme price.
After Amara‘s anthem faded into the general din, the Announcer raised his mic and resumed his duties. “And introducing her opponent, hailing from Glen Echo Michigan, she stands at five feet seven inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and thirty-one pounds. Representing the Black Court, they call her the Raven… LENORE LEMARCHAND!”
LENORE LEMARCHAND:
Kula Shaker’s ‘Hush’ winged its way into the arena and a cloud of ’Ravens’ went up, Lemarchand’s flock larger than ever in light of her current opposition. They cheered all the louder when Emily West’s Lady in Waiting brushed through the curtain scant seconds after her name was called. Regarding the capacity crowd with a wry smile, Lenore ran a hand across the trim washboard of her tummy and ‘flicked’ an invisible spray of oil in Singh’s direction. After that she hooked her thumbs together and raised the rook high overhead. When it came down she turned to the camera and said, “You should have stuck to the beach, Empress. I already took the Oil. And the Ring was never yours in the first place.”
For her first standard one fall match with a woman she loathed like few others, Lenore wore strappy bikini bottoms hued in a purplish-black and emblazoned with a faint design that careful inspection revealed as feathers. Her top was halter style, with the color and pattern matching her briefs, while her elbow and kneepads were matte black, the latter still obscured by loose, bell-flared 'leggings' that started just south of mid-thigh and dropped to ankle length. Those leggings were also black and featured a stylized version of Lemarchand’s raven insignia done in stark white. Her look was finished with shiny black boots and purple wrist tape that matched her togs.
Brilliant gaze honed in on Amara, Lemarchand ignored the hands extended in her direction as she closed on the squared circle. It wasn’t until she was almost there when a bit of motion off to her left caught her attention.
‘MUMBAI OR ORLANDO
AMARA’S SUBMISSIONS
ALWAYS SOUND THE SAME!
“Feel the same too.” she told the sign waver with a mischievous smile. “Of course you’ll have to take my word on that.” Eager to depose the false queen once and for all, Lemarchand broke into a run and dove under the bottom rope. On her feet in the span between heartbeats, the Fair & Radiant Maiden honed in on Amara and would’ve gone at her then and there if Craig Long hadn’t stepped in her way.
“Ease off for now, Lenore. I’ve got to check your boots and pads.”
Lenore raised her hands and backpedaled to the opposite corner, but not before she noted, “I wasn’t even wearing pads or boots the last two times I beat this brat, Long. And if Amara’s not careful she’ll be wearing even less by the time I’m finished.”
Dismissing the jeers of the Orlando idiots the instant the bell sounded, Amara set out across the canvas with an uncharacteristic sense of urgency in her usually haughty step. Singh would’ve slapped the taste from the mouth of anyone who dared call her desperate and she’d have been right to do it, as an athlete with her poise and credentials was hardly undone by a single defeat, though there was no doubt the Bollywood Bombshell was in a foul mood that wouldn’t fully dissipate until she’d crushed the obnoxious little bird flitting in the opposite corner. Of course this was no twittering ball of feather and fluff, but FAWN’s stately Raven, who strode forth to meet Singh’s advance with every intention of putting the former Eurasian Champion in her place once and for all.
Her ire stoked by the other brunette’s merest approach, Amara raised her hands and beckoned Lemarchand to do the same, so that she might properly greet West’s pathetic lieutenant with the proper show of-- a round of boos from the capacity crowd as Lenore answered Singh’s challenge only find herself folded over the exotique’s back when Amara went low and drove a heavy bronzed shoulder into that alabaster midriff! Hooking Lenore’s upper thighs to better muscle the bendyback onto her encroaching shoulder, Singh kept Lemarchand’s toes well off the canvas as she marched the other brunette back to her corner and BWUUUNGED her against the buckles.
Lenore ‘oooffffhed’ on impact but didn’t hook the ropes or call for a break, rather she cinched an arm around Singh’s head in a rough Facelock and thwhap-thwhap-THWHAPPED her across the upper back with a trio of hard overhand Forearm Smashes. Amara bared her teeth more out of anger than pain, then rewarded Lemarchand’s tenacity with her own set of half a dozen Shoulderblocks, the last of which left the Fair & Radiant Maiden’s pert backside wedged awkwardly on the middle turnbuckle.
Flipping hair off her face as she finally straightened up, Amara CRAAACKED Lenore’s cheek with a stiff slap, then followed up with an insolent claw grip on her rival’s mouth and jaw. “Did you really think you were better than me, peasant?” Singh added another scintillating slap before filling her other hand with the Raven’s dark hair, which she promptly tried to liberate from her scalp. “Did you REALLY think you could embarrass me and get away with it? That I wouldn’t destroy you? ANSWER ME!”
Lenore was far too distracted by a mouthful of Empress talons to manage a proper verbal response, but that didn’t stop her from seizing a double fistful of her opponent’s luxurious locks! Amara snarled and redoubled her efforts to pluck some feathers only to find her efforts thwarted by the meddling efforts of Craig Long, who looped an arm around the Indian’s waist and hauled her back half a dozen steps. “Get a hold of yourself, Amara!” the ref barked. “This is a wrestling match, not a mugg--”
She knocked his hand aside with a single furious swat. “It is whatever I say it is! And keep your filthy hands off me!”
Long proclaimed the cleanliness of his hands, however this fell on deaf ears as Singh rushed by him in a short, explosive charge followed by an equally low leap and a THWHUMPING impact as she flattened Lenore in the corner with a textbook Avalanche Splash. Keeping close in the aftermath to make sure the scrawny little fluke carried every ounce of her weight, Amara snatched a wrist and cooed, “The oil was a pleasant diversion, but I never needed it to destroy the likes of you.”
Short of breath following the Splash, Lemarchand only huffed when Singh stepped away from the buckles, dropped a shoulder and sent her racing across the ring on a sharp diagonal. Separation granted the return of her senses, allowing Emily’s Lady in Waiting to spin in a half circle before she bounced against the roughly-padded steel of the turnbuckles. Back on the other side of the ring, Amara raised her arms high and bellowed, “ON YOUR KNEES, PEASANTS! IT’S TIME TO ADORE YOUR EMPRESS!”
This ‘adoration’ sounded like jeers to everyone who wasn’t Singh, yet that didn’t stop the former Eurasian Champion from racing across the squared circle for a high velocity Hip Check that THWHUMPED a great swath of bronzed Bollywood backside into Lemarchand’s aching abdominals. Keeping close to the other brunette to ensure Lenore couldn’t sneak her way out of danger, Amara grabbed the top rope in both hands, then drew her hips forward and thrust them back to force yet more air from the Courtier’s lungs.
Finally allowing herself a smirk once she felt Lemarchand’s breath blowing hot and sulky against her shoulder, Amara repeated her butt bumping offense twice more, then pulled clear just enough to swivel through a sultry beat before WHUMPING her haunches against Lenore’s belly one more time. “Feel that, peasant?” she cooed while bumping and grinding against the breathless brunette. “That’s me reminding all of these disgusting little people how I treated you the first time we met.”
Lemarchand couldn’t escape the Empress’s encroaching weight so she hooked her fingers into claws and dug ‘em deep into Singh’s flanks. “Of course you’d have to remind them.” the Raven grunted into her attacker’s ear. “After Mumbai and Spring Break everyone’s forgotten that you used to be someOOOFFFHHH!”
Amara ended that insolence with another gluteal wrecking ball, then turned around and smooshed Lenore’s patrician features in a galling fish face. “After tonight they will never forget my superiority.” the Indian stunner hissed. “And neither will you.”
Switching over to a Wristlock before Lemarchand or the official could lodge a complaint, Singh cleared off, dropped a shoulder and slung her back to the corner where she’d endured the initial drubbing. Lenore spun into the collision again only this time she got a foot onto the middle buckle, thus dulling her impact considerably. It was a small detail, but one Amara would’ve noticed from a respectable distance. Alas, her close pursuit meant she didn’t recognize the threat until Lenore sprinted out of the corner and went low with a Basement Dropkick that THWHACKED her just below the knees!
The move was simple as could be, yet timing and placement meant it yielded spectacular results as Singh flipped head over heels to land flat on her butt with a heavy thump! Focus split between the ache in her shins and the burn in her tush, Amara scrambled to boot leather and promptly ate a second Dropkick, this one of the standing variety.
Already off balance, the Golden Empress stumbled hard, tripped and dropped into an awkward seat with her head lolling just beneath the middle buckle. Lenore surveyed the situation before wheeling around to head for the other side of the ring. Only she must’ve thought better of it because the willowy brunette did an about face and raced at the downed exotique. Anchoring herself to the top rope at the last possible second, Lemarchand launched herself into a gorgeous headstand held just long enough to get an ‘ooohh’ from those assembled. Then she swung down and in, long legs stretched just wide enough to DRIVE her backside into Singh’s exposed chest.
HEADSTAND BRONCO BUSTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=tE-hCmws7w4
Impressive though it was, Lenore didn’t so much ‘bust’ her bronco as she did hold her in place until the worst of Amara’s shuddering subsided. “You want to talk about something I’ll never forget, Amara?” Lenore got off her perch only to sink into a crouch before the other brunette. “I’ll never forget the look on your face when you finally realize what sort of trouble you’re in.”
“Silence, peasant.” Singh groaned. “I’m tired of your AAAARRRRRRHHHHH!”
Proximity of the ropes be damned, Lenore seized Amara’s ankles and wrenched her legs wide, all the better to wedge her right heel into the fork of the Bombshell’s crotch!
Amara wailed in agony mixing anger into an emotional mix.The Raven quickly turned her complaining to Craig about the ‘below the belt’ assault into pleading for it to stop, Singh’s palms raised and ‘washing windows’.
“You don’t sound much like an Empress at the moment, do you?” Lemarchand inquired, ignoring Long’s demands for a break.
“STAHHHP,” was the only pain-addled response Singh could manage.
Thankfully for the Indian grappler, Craig began his count, Amara forced to endure another four seconds of Lenore wedging her boot heel deeper into Singh’s privates before raising it and adding a final vicious STOMP.
Amara gurgled, dark eyes rolling halfway back from the brutal trudging. She dropped to a shoulder and rolled out under the bottom rope when the Courtier abided by Long’s demands. Lenore turned to Craig.
“See her take advantage of your kindness?”
Long moved to the ropes to begin a count on the wayward, bent and limping Empress when Lemarchand offered her assistance. She stepped through the ropes and dropped to the floor a few feet behind the waddling Singh, Amara with one hand deep between her thighs, trying to relieve the radiating pain.
The FAWNatics, not usually enamored with either woman, seemed to offer dispensation for the night to the Raven, such was their disdain of the Subcontinental warrior. They cheered loudly as Lenore stalked her former oil pit plaything from arears.
Grabbing the long lush ebony mane of the retreating Singh from behind, Emily’s lieutenant led Amara several steps forward, drew back the noggin of the Empress, and SLAMMED her forehead into the top steel step. The Indian grappler’s braincase snapped back from the impact, Amara spinning in a 180 and flopping into Lemarchand’s arms.
It’s a swift and easy transition for Lenore to collect Amara’s arms in a set of Underhooks.
“Say goodnight,” Lenore remarked matter-of-factly before laying out and delivering the crown of Singh’s skull to the thinly padded cement floor with a DDT that sent the flaccid body of the Empress tumbling over into a motionless starfish.
DOUBLE UNDERHOOK DDT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=jX0vKctVxNg
Seated next to the demolished Singh, the Raven turned her attention to Long’s growing count. She dove under the bottom rope for a split-second and returned to the floor to Craig’s frustration but not surprise.
“What?” Lenore asked accusingly. “You’re going to bring that deadweight back in yourself?”
Lemarchand dipped and scooped her arms under those of Singh’s from behind. She struggled to raise the semiconscious Amara to vertical and had to use the apron’s edge as a way to keep the Empress upright. Leaning Singh against the mat, Lenore took a quick break to dramatically wipe her brow.
“Leaving this woman a ruin is hard work,” the Raven announced to the front rows, “but it’s rewarding.”
Piece said, she lifted and stuffed Amara back onto the legal playing field at ‘SEVEN’ and rejoins her at ‘EIGHT’. Lenore seemed almost pleased to see Singh rising to all fours, some fight remaining that she could remove from the reeling Amara.
Striding comfortably to the Empress, Lenore mounted the head of the rising Indian from the front and clamped down with a Standing Headscissors. She crossed her ankles to apply that extra bit of pressure, forcing a deeper shade of red from the flushing face of Amara.
“I’m going to…” Singh grunts.
“You’ll do nothing,” Lenore corrected. “But learn your place. I strongly suggest a place on the first flight back to Mumbai.”
Amara wrapped her arms around the sinewy, ivory-skinned thighs of her tormentor and tried to lift the Raven off her feet. There’s barely a budge after the beating she’s endured the last minutes and Lenore bent over to give Singh’s rump a blistering swat.
The crowd approved wholeheartedly, so much so Lemarchand raised an open palm as if to ask if they want another delivered. With a resounding ‘YES’ chant, Lenore nodded and started to swing her paddle down but stopped short.
“Remember. Raven,” Lenore reminded, making the throngs aggravatingly aware she didn’t take requests from the rabble.
The disappointed FAWNatics grumbled and groused, but their anger was lost in the background when Lenore instead dipped and wrapped her arms around the coppery tummy of Singh. With a loud grunt Lemarchand released her Scissors and hauled Amara up in a forward flip of a lift that caught the uninitiated by surprise, so powerful was the display by the Courtier.
The planned Powerbomb from out of nowhere was interrupted however when Amara found the strength to waken from her semi-slumber and wrap her left arm around the noggin of the Raven. Laying out was the ‘easy’ part for Amara and she RIPPED Lenore off her feet into a DDT. Now it’s the alabaster-skinned brunette’s turn to tumble through the concussive blow, sliding to a stop in a wide spreadeagle. Unfortunately for the Subcontinental, she could do no more than remain horizontal herself, drawing in deep breaths and trying to fully regain her senses, instinct alone having saved her for the moment.
With both women laid out, the crowd is willing to give them their due, offering a “THIS IS AWESOME” chant that may or may not be the reason the combatants finally stirred from their slumber at Craig’s deliberate count of ‘FIVE’. The women moved in unison, rolling up to all fours together at ‘SEVEN’ and pushing to their feet at ‘NINE’. Immediately, they rushed toward the other, dropping a shoulder and NAILING each other with simultaneous blocks. Amara and Lenore each stumbled back a couple steps before regaining their balance, each silent and staring lasers.
The fury of being made a spectacle in oil not once but twice fueling her, Amara responded first, again rushing at the Raven. Dipping, she wrapped her arms under those of Lenore, encircling Lemarchand’s chest, and pumped her coppery stems with enough power to get the Raven backpedaling to the strands. Leaning her into the cables, Singh cinches a Bear Hug while the Black Courtier sought a stalemate by capturing the Indian’s head in a Front Facelock.
With neither woman in full control and against the strands, Long called for the break. Surprisingly, it’s a quick and clean one, until Amara THUMPED a forearm blast into Lenore’s jaw, shooting her foe’s head in the opposite direction. Rocked, the Raven tried to get a blocking forearm in place for the next volley but Amara got it there too quickly. The second shot put Lenore on rubbery legs, a third almost removing her from verticality. But the lithe, sinewy brunette leaned her right arm over the top cable to maintain and when blow number four was on the way, Lemarchand ducked it and swung her left arm between the legs of the Empress.
The Black Courtier heaved the off-balance Singh, Amara popping over the cables. The Indian beauty caught herself on the apron but turned and ATE a forearm delivery from Lemarchand as a response. With Amara wobbling, it’s Lenore who provided an assist of a sort by capturing Singh’s head in a Front Facelock. Stepping away from the ropes with possession, Lenore forced Amara’s body across the top rope, stretching the copper-toned frame to its furthest, Singh’s ankles hooking over the rubber-coated steel.
In the blink of an eye, Lenore spun violently while laying out and demolished Amara with a rope-assisted Neckbreaker that drew a loud ‘OOOOH’ from the crowd, the Empress again apparently dethroned, a languid pile of limbs and torso next to the sapped but satisfied Raven.
ROPE-ASSISTED NECKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=HjzcslFthOs
Those fans that counted themselves members of the Raven’s Rookery urged their heroine to go for a cover and Lemarchand did indeed position herself above Singh’s head. But rather than pin she hooked Amara under the armpits and draaaaaaaaaagged her well away from the safety of the strands. The Empress, vaguely aware she was being positioned for something she wouldn’t much care for, struggled to a seat and reached back to latch onto the other brunette’s biceps. “Get your disgusting little claws off of me, peasNNGGHHH!”
Lenore got to her feet just to drop to one knee, jamming the bony joint between Singh’s shoulders. “It’s about time you learned to watch your mouth.” Lemarchand noted as she laced both hands across the Indian’s jaw. “Otherwise you won’t be able to use it for anything other than screaming.”
Amara started to answer, but was cut off when the Fair & Radiant Maiden wrenched back, the simple combination of Chinlock and knee posted against the nape of her neck silencing the Bombshell as effectively as any Sleeper. Such holds rarely led to submissions in the annals of FAWN, but Craig Long didn’t much like the angle of Singh’s neck especially when factoring the Neckbreaker only moments prior. So he strode over and leaned down, careful to stay clear of his charge’s reach. “How you doing, Amara? Need me to call for the bell?”
Amara replied with something unprintable, which drew a smirk from the Courtier. “No need to waste your breath so early, Craig. I’m sure everyone will know when the Empress here has had enough for the EERRRHHH!” Amara stopped tugging at her attacker’s wrists and went for her hair instead, the struggling exotique filling both hands with a whole lot of Lenore’s long, dark locks.
The ref noted the infraction at once and demanded Amara release the illegal grip, Lenore however only ground her knee a little harder. “One warning, princess.” she growled. “Let go of my hair right now or I’ll make you let go.”
Singh only pulled harder, the former Eurasian Champion seemingly intent on denuding a section of her foe’s scalp. “Peasants do not issue warnings to royalty, bytch. They fall to their hands and knees in adoration as they paAAAAAAARRRRGGGHHH!”
Lemarchand halved the Chinlock, reached down with her free hand and twisted Amara’s right nipple in a savage half circle. The surprise pincer broke Singh’s concentration on the hair-hold, so Lenore ended her own catty tactic and cuffed her rival upside the head with heavy Crossface Forearm Smash. Stunned by the blow, Amara offered little protest when Lenore secured her own handful of hair and used it to stretch the Empress out flat. “You’re not royalty, Amara.” Lenore sniped as she drew the other woman’s head between her thighs. “You’re a failed movie star and you would’ve been a failed wrestler if you hadn’t thrown sand in my eyes one afternoon on the beach.”
Curling her left leg so Singh’s chin was nocked in the pit of her knee, Lenore tucked that shin beneath her right knee and began to squeeeeeeeeeeze down on a classic Figure Four Headscissors. Amara groaned, beat her heels against the canvas and started slapping at Lemarchand’s constricting gams. Hands on the mat, the Courtier boosted her butt by a good six inches and thrust her hips forward, adding a painful neck wrench to the predicament. After fifteen seconds or so she returned to the mat and swatted the Empress’s forehead. “Give up. Or I’ll put you to sleep.”
Singh grabbed for her wrist, settled for raking Lemarchand’s encroaching thigh. “Yuuuuhhhh…. you’ll do nothing of the sorMMMMMMMPPPPPPPHHHH!”
Lenore cupped a hand over Amara’s mouth and nose and clamped down hard. “When are you going to learn you shouldn’t talk down to me?” Lemarchand snapped. “Maybe I should’ve ridden you a little harder in the Oil PiEERRRRRRRRHHH F*CK!”
Amara snatched hold of her opponent’s wrist and wrenched the Raven’s fingers like she meant to snap them all off at the first knuckle! Hurting, but not yet willing to abandon a hold that could end this fight right now, Lenore crunched up into the highest seat she could manage and unloaded on the Indian’s exposed pate with half a dozen quick hammer punches. The last of those freed the Courtier’s other hand, but it ended the HOM Smother and Amara was fighting the Scissors harder than ever so Lemarchand took drastic measures. Rolling onto her hands and knees with the Scissors still in place, Emily’s Lady in Waiting rose up as high as she could, then tucked her head and rolled through a slow motion somersault that powered Amara off the canvas and brought her THWHUMPING down flat on her back! An impressive show of strength no doubt, but it wasn’t over yet as Lenore immediately rolled to her tummy and repeated the tumble with the same canvas-shivering results.
ROLLING HEADSCISSOR SLAM:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=LWBGH1wGHVE
If one was good and two was better than three was surely the best, so Lemarchand twisted over and set for the trifecta, only this time Singh got her knees under her and sloooooooooowly powered to her feet with the wide-eyed battler seated astride her shoulders! Cursing the mistake, Lenore sent a frantic constriction through the Scissors and pounded on Amara’s forehead, unfortunately the Bollywood Bombshell endured it just long enough to go up on her tiptoes and lay out full length. The Electric Chair Drop wasn’t fancy, but it broke Lemarchand’s grip with authority, the Courtier THWHAMMED into the thinly-sheathed plywood with cringe-worthy force. As if the situation wasn’t troublesome enough, Singh palmed the woozy woman’s knees and bridged up on her toes in the aftermath, effectively stacking Lenore on her shoulders for the…
ELECTRIC CHAIR DROP:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=FGVucBbJfuc
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
Lemarchand bucked loose and flopped onto her back, saving the match with half a second to spare.
Finally free from the Raven’s hateful clutches, Amara slowly rolled to her hands and knees and just sucked wind for several seconds. Rising only once the pounding in her temples subsided to a tolerable level, Singh flipped hair out of her eyes and was disgusted to see Lemarchand hauling herself up as well. “Steady yourself, peasant.” the brunette called out with only a trace of her usual haughtiness. “I want those knees steady before they hit the mat in front of your Empr--”
Lemarchand rushed her with another one of those light-dimming Forearm Smashes on her mind but Amara dipped low, leaving her adversary to race the ropes on her six. Whirling around even as she made the evasion, Singh loped after her which meant she was all up in the Raven’s business as soon as Lemarchand turned around. Startled by the Bombshell’s proximity, Lenore took wing in what would’ve been a gorgeous leap frog if Amara hadn’t grabbed her biceps and yanked her down into a Kneelift that landed right between the eyes.
MID-AIR KNEESTRIKE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=pGA2Rb4LxDo
Lenore’s noggin snapped back with whiplash force and she crumpled to her knees only for Amara to keep her at least semi-upright thanks to a Front Facelock. Helping herself to a stern handful of Lenore’s purple trunks, Singh hoisted her up to about three o’clock, just high enough to drop her tummy-first across the top rope. From there she stepped backward until the other brunette was suspended by the Facelock at one end and her ankles at the other. “You’re barely qualified to stand in the shadows of a queen.” Amara sniffed as she shifted from the Front Facelock to one of the Three Quarters variety. “And yet you somehow think yourself worthy of usurping an Empress?”
Lemarchand offered no response worthy of the Bollywood Bombshell’s time, so Singh went up on her toes, then dropped to one knee to THWHUMP her foe’s skull against the posted joint. The Fair & Radiant Maiden jounced away and landed hard on her back, the perfect resting place for an exultant Empress as she sidled into a Back Press and hooked the far leg for…
SINGH-SATIONAL FACEBUSTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=-vAWBRmTHfc
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOO!
Lenore threw a shoulder up with Long’s flattened palm inches away from victory for the Empress. Rising to her haunches next to the Raven, Amara swept her hands though her long ebony locks in disbelief, both at her opponent and the zebra.
“You can’t tell me,” Singh griped.
Technically Long didn‘t, holding up two fingers instead. The Indian took a disdainful swipe at his raised hand then moved her digits into Lenore’s brunette mane, yanking her up to rubbery legs.
Amara drove a Toe Kick deep into the ivory tummy of the Black Courtier, doubling the reeling Lemarchand over. Amara pulled the lowered noggin of her foe between her bronze legs, clamping down with a Standing Headscissors, thighs pressing into temples to further debilitate the Oil Baroness. Wrapping her arms around the flushed Raven, Singh loosened her legs enough to heave Lenore up in a front flip.
Seated on the Bollywood Bombshell’s shoulders in Powerbomb position, Lenore immediately realized she’s in dire straits and balled her right fist. But before Lenore could fire, Singh carried the Raven toward a nearby set of buckles, showing her strength in shuffling toward the buckles with Lemarchand topside, then tossing her foe the rest of the way when the duo drew into range for a Buckle Bomb.
BUCKLE BOMB:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=DAln8NB8e-E
Lenore’s spine RAMMED into the thinly-padded steel junctures, the Raven bouncing out a couple steps into the waiting arms of Singh. The Empress dipped and swung an arm between the alabaster stems of the Raven, ‘hupping’ Lemarchand off the deck and onto her right shoulder. Battered by the bomb, Lenore managed little in the way of resistance when the Indian pivoted and BODY SLAMMED Lenore to the deck.
SWINGING BODY SLAM:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=TYYO0AUbx94
Left in a single file of achy Raven, Lenore seemed stunned and a smirking Amara saw the grand finale in sight, namely her signature Bollywood Ending. She dropped into a reverse straddling mount of Lenore’s chest, forcing a huge exhale from the Raven, any remaining oxygen forced from her lungs by the impact to her chest.
“Now you learn an important lesson, peasant,” Singh proclaimed over a shoulder as she started to back her Empress ass up, sliding her derriere to the hollow of the gulping neck of Lemarchand.
Lenore raised her palms to press against the coppery-skinned hips of her rival to stem the tide, but Singh’s momentum was unstoppable. She slipped her undercarriage over the Raven’s chin and it’s an easy waggle of Amara’s ass over her foe’s lips and nose to create a seal and bring on the frenzied flails of a panicky Courtier, dark eyes darting.
The Indian slipped her calves under Lenore’s shoulders to force her mug deeper into the ‘Ending’ and to keep Lemarchand from being pinned for a three-count before the full humiliation of being knocked unconscious was rendered. Singh, humbled and humiliated by the Baroness in her oily environs, apparently needed more than a win but a statement in return.
Enjoying her uneven cushion, Singh’s perfect pearlies flashed. Amara raised her arms in triumph as Lenore’s upper limbs became less energetic and coordinated, wavering like reeds in the wind.
“You have found your place, peasant. Your proper plaAAAAHHH!”
Not accounting for the Raven’s lower limbs, Amara was caught off-guard and on the chin by a pelvic thrust from the Courtier that swung Lenore’s legs within range, the heels THUMPING into the tip of the Empress’ jaw. Head snapping back from the impact, Amara tumbled in a backward somersault off her mount, Lemarchand emerging, gasping and greasy-faced. She rolled to her chest and pushed against the canvas to slither backward several feet along the mat, making space between herself and Singh.
Amara, ending in a seated position, leaning against the ropes, legs extended, massaged her jaw and shook her noggin to clean out some cobwebs. Smile removed, the Indian beauty used the cables to pull to her feet while Lemarchand shoved to all fours, her dark eyes glued to those of the Bollywood Bombshell.
Singh strode purposefully to Lenore, the Raven rising to meet Amara head on, but that head got put on a swivel when the Empress succeeded in delivering a forearm blow to Lemarchand’s jaw. The stubborn brunette managed to remain upright despite the nasty collision, but that suited Singh just fine. The Indian snatched a wrist and pivoted, Irish Whipping her foe toward the far buckles. Sent racing across the canvas, the Raven turned and CRASHED into the corner at full speed, body shuddering but remaining vertical.
Amara followed her target in, at the last second leaping onto the upper thighs of the Raven, her laced fingers wrapping around the neck of the beleaguered Courtier. Throwing her body weight back, Amara Monkey Flipped Lenore over. But instead of crashing to her tailbone or spine, Lemarchand nimbly landed on her feet. She spun in a U-turn to see the clueless Amara kip to hers cheerfully, arms high and wide in celebration.
Singh turned and ATE a superlative Super Kick to the jaw that drew a roar from the partisan crowd and a staggering shimmy from Amara. The Empress fainted into the ropes to her side, unintentionally springboarding into a delving Toe Kick to the coppery abs of the Indian grappler, the plush pursed lips of the Empress bursting open in a violent exhalation.
The Raven, already taken flight, sprinted to the ropes behind her and rebounded in a full dash to the doubled Singh. Lenore NAILED her foe with a vicious Knee Trembler that knocked the senses from the Subcontinental warrior, the Empress spinning down to all fours from an impact that rightly drew a loud ‘OOOOH’ from the crowd.
KNEE TREMBLER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=vqsgdfPIeGo
As Lenore skidded to a stop after the attack and saw the glassy-eyed and penitent Amara a few steps removed, the Raven’s confidence from oily victories past revived instantly.
To her credit, the sultry Empress forced up raggedly, stumbling and stooped as Lemarchand approached. Lenore wrapped an arm around the back of Singh’s neck. The Raven plucked Amara’s opposite arm and laid it over her neck. Her right hand reached across her body for Amara’s right leg and the Courtier lifted and crossed with Singh’s left.
Dipping, her handle in place, Lenore vaulted Amara airborne with a loud grunt. She pointed the crown of Singh’s skull to the canvas and laid out, absolutely DESTROYING the Bombshell, sending her foe into the Bleakest December ever with her signature buster.
BLEAK DECEMBER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=R-YmNe1MZgk
Lenore spread the semiconscious, bronzed jumble of torso and limbs that’s left of Amara into a motionless pancake and climbed aboard in a full body pin for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
Singh powered her way to one side with half a heartbeat to spare, but any relief she might’ve felt (along with any dismay from the FAWNatics) was summarily dismissed when Lemarchand immediately hauled her to a slumped seat and nuzzled in behind. Stretched out on her left hip, the Courtier hooked that arm around Amara’s left bicep while her left leg threaded over the Indian’s right arm. It looked for all the world like a Crucifix, yet instead of drawing her foe back for a cover, Lenore brought her right leg up n’ over, wedging the cudgel of her calf against Singh’s jaw while simultaneously securing an S-grip on the other side of her rival’s head.
ONCE UPON A MIDNIGHT DREARY:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=iFsDUfgURgI
“AAAARRRRRHHHHHH GRRRRHHHHHHHH!” Amara wailed in abject anguish as she was twisted and tortured ‘Once Upon a Midnight Dreary’.
Unmoved by Singh’s suffering, Lenore pushed out with her right leg and pulled forward on the S-grip to slowly but surely squeeeeeeeeeeeze the air from the former Eurasian Champion’s lungs. “Submit!” she demanded while scraping the back of her boot along Singh’s protesting features. “Or I’ll choke you out!”
Amara believed it and even if she didn’t, the spots dancing before her eyes believed it for her. Keening in disgust and rage at the thought of three straight losses to the Courtier, Singh planted her feet and bridged up as high as she could in hopes of alleviating the pressure. It might’ve worked for the briefest of moments, alas the Raven gave the hellish hold another hard shake and Amara’s bridge collapsed like a sandcastle in the rain.
“TAP!” Lemarchand bellowed as the exotique’s struggles began to trail off into slow motion. Lenore grrrrrrroooound her knuckles against Singh’s cheek, the vindictive brunette clearly enjoying the feel of sub-continental slobber on her hands. “You’re done, Empress.” the Raven promised. “Just tap out and it’ll be all WHOOOAAAAHHH!”
Much as it galled her admit, Amara couldn’t break her nemesis’s grip so she did the next best thing and forced Lemarchand to break it for her by plowing forward into the other woman’s grip! Caught off guard by the power and suddenness of Singh’s resurgence, Lenore couldn’t stop the bronzed brunette from stacking her on her shoulders in an improvised cradle good for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
They exploded apart at the last possible second, Lemarchand’s explosive escape hatch sending her tumbling backward onto her belly while Singh barrel rolled in the opposite direction. Breathing hard after expending so much energy over the last thirty seconds or so, the Fair & Radiant Maiden eventually flipped the hair out of her face and spied Amara dragging herself under the bottom rope to the apron. “No way, baby.” Lenore huffed amidst a return to verticality. “You couldn’t run from the Oil Pit, you sure as hell can’t run from the ring.”
Happy to prove this point, she stalked over to Singh’s side of the ring and climbed out onto the apron just as the Empress regained her footing. “Disgusting peasant!” Amara croaked as Lemarchand sank a greedy hand into her hair. “How dare you NNNNNNGGGHHHHH!” Singh’s indignity was cut off by an unpleasant ‘BWUNG!’ as Lenore marched her down the narrow ledge and bounced her head off the top turnbuckle once, twice, three times!
Clinging to the steel post for balance, Amara eased her way around the corner and managed to turn around, no easy feat considering Lemarchand still had hold of her hair. Lenore smiled as she twisted Singh’s dark locks around her fist. “Where do you think you’re going, bytch? I thought an Empress never gave up groEEERRRRHHHH F*CK!”
The Bollywood Bombshell feigned a hair pull of her own only to palm the Courtier’s noggin for a double eye gouge! Long and the FAWNatics protested along with Lenore but Singh didn’t give a damn now that she was free of the Raven’s hateful grasp. Of course she celebrated with a hateful clasp of her own, a double fistful of hair she used to twist Lemarchand around in a half circle despite the tricksy confines. With both brunettes positioned on opposite sides of the ring post, Amara shifted from her hair-hold to a Chinlock, one that made sure she was in full control of Lenore’s head when she stepped off the apron and TWAAAANGED the back of her prey’s neck over the short length of exposed steel that anchored the top turnbuckle to the post!
TURNBUCKLE NECKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=FGbIQxTnYM8
Outrage from those assembled turned to concern as Lemarchand’s head snapped forward with sickening whiplash force. And yet somehow Emily’s Lady in Waiting kept upright, the tenacious bendyback leaning heavily against the strands while she tried to massage the hurt from her neck. Around the corner a short distance, Amara watched the stumbling lovely with a vile mixture of hate and incredulity. She started to say something only to choose silence as she loped around the corner and sprang onto the apron behind her foe. Twisting around so she was back to back with the wounded Raven, Singh reached over and caught her in another Reverse Chinlock, then leapt up and laid out to THWHUNK Lenore down flat with her second Neckbreaker in less than a minute!
APRON NECKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=hELy0DXcSCY
Lemarchand hit the apron hard and there was no standing this time, though there was never any worry of a count-out as Amara immediately stuffed her under the bottom rope. Sliding in after the flattened fighter with a sense of urgency she didn’t often display, Singh draaaaaaaagged Lenore to the middle of the ring, then planted a foot beside either hip and bent down to seize her opponent’s biceps. Dropping into a deep crouch even as she hoisted Lemarchand’s torso off the mat, Amara threaded those captured arms over her thighs and secured an S-grip of her own against the Raven’s chin.
CAMEL CLUTCH:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=WjD293CIIEs
“AAAAAAAHH GAAAAAAAWWWWD STAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHP!” Lenore shrieked to the rafters as Singh twisted her into a tipped over ‘L’ with the most emphatic Camel Clutch FAWN had seen in quite some time.
“ASK HER!” Amara barked as she put more and more pressure on that traumatized neck.
Craig Long crouched close to the action and did as bade. “What do you say, Lenore? Do you submit?”
Lenore tried to hold on, but her resistance crumbled after less than ten seconds and she nodded as best she could and slapped at Singh’s thighs for confirmation.
The ref called for the bell at once, alas, Amara didn’t release her grip. “SAY IT!” she demanded over the CLANG of the bell. “SAY IT, PEASANT!”
“I SUBMIT! I SUBMIT! FAAAAAAHHK, LET ME GONNNGGGHH!”
Amara released the Clutch and slammed her foe’s forehead into the thinly-sheathed plywood, thus ensuring there was no interruption when the Announcer confirmed, “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner via submission… AMARA SINGH!”
The Empress closed her eyes and indulged in a contented sigh as her name echoed through the arena, but her usual arrogance was not in evidence when she deigned to gaze upon the unworthy peasant hordes once more. Rather she looked to Long and demanded, “Get me a microphone, little man.”
Craig hesitated, clearly worried about his charge exacerbating the damage to Lemarchand’s neck. “Put her in the Clutch again and I’ll reverse the decision immediately, Amara.”
Singh snorted. “I wouldn’t ask for a mic if I planned to wring the little bird’s neck, now would I?”
This seemed to satisfy the zebra, who procured a mic from a FAWN flunky and promptly offered it to the Bollywood Bombshell. Thus armed, Amara bent down, grabbed Lemarchand’s shoulder and dropped to her knees, all the better to wedge the fork of her crotch against the point of the Raven’s chin. Such pressure would’ve been unpleasant under the best of circumstances, it was all the worse for Lemarchand considering the strain of the Neckbreakers and Camel Clutch. Grimacing at the encroachment she tried to push at Singh’s knees and a weak bridge followed immediately thereafter, alas the victorious Empress shut that down with a single hard swat to trembling ivory tummy.
With her thighs pressed in against the Courtier’s cheeks, Amara raked a hand through her hair, then pointed an imperious index finger at her opponent’s nose. “You embarrassed me in Mumbai, little bird.” she said over the jeers of the throng. “And you HUMILIATED me at March to War. Tonight I have eased the sting of that degradation somewhat by submitting you in the center of this ring that you hold so dear.” Amara smirked when Lenore bared her teeth and smiled when she ‘tap, tap, tapped’ the tip of her rival’s nose. “Any other woman would use my position to challenge you to a match next month, but I am not just any woman, as you well know. I am FAWN’s only Empress and my vengeance is something terrible to behold. You stole the Oil Pit from me, Raven. Usurped my throne, made it your own and forced me to adore you like I was a groveling peasant.”
“I’ll… I’ll do it again too, you arrogant byMMMPPPHHHH!”
Singh slid forward and ground down, forcing her undercarriage onto Lemarchand’s defenseless mouth and nose. “You took something precious to me, girl. So now I will take something precious to you. Not at Red, White and Bruised, not even at Fawnamania, but at All Hallows Evil. I hereby challenge you for the Queen’s Chambers. Do you accept?”
She rose onto her knees and stuck the mic down a few inches from Lenore’s face.
“Buuuuhhhhhh….buuuuhhh…. bytch…. I accept. And you’re gonna find out once and for all MMMMMMMMBBBBBGGGGHHHHHHH!”
Amara sat down a second time and this time there was no talking, no promises and no threats, just a spiteful little Bollywood dance party that lasted until well after the sun had set on Lenore’s consciousness. “Take the summer off to recover from this shame.” Singh sniffed after she’d rose to her feet. “But those Chambers better be fit for an Empress at All Hallows Evil. Because if they aren’t my first act as Queen will be to appoint you as my new maid.”
Lemarchand would have MUCH to say on this before the night was over but at the moment silence reigned supreme so Amara placed her foot on the brunette’s chest and let the Gladiatrix photogs chronicle her greatness until the broadcast cut away to a video hyping the World Title Match.
EXOTIC:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=sPhhZg9v9NU
The curtains parted, revealing a set of musclebound men, clad in gold loin clothes and sandals. The throng immediately let everyone know how much they despised the despicable Singh.
The behemoths carried an ornate bed, where upon the Bollywood Bombshell reclined in luxurious splendor. As the ‘exotic’ grappler was carried toward the ring on the curious conveyance, the FAWNatics showered her with boos.
AMARA SINGH:
The copper-skinned beauty writhed on her cushioned platform to the sound of the catchy beat. Below, the men’s gaze never left the ring, seemingly oblivious to the outstretched hands of the fans and the movements of the bronzed, ebony-haired beauty above.
The announcer proclaimed the arrival of the Subcontinent’s most acclaimed warrior with his usual fanfare. “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall with a thirty minute time limit. Introducing first, hailing from Cawnpore India, she stands at five feet six inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and thirty-three pounds. She is FAWN’s only true Empress… AMARA SINGH!”
The spectacle halted, having reached its destination. The men lowered the ornate bed so it was even with the apron and Singh gracefully slid from bedside to ringside. The deposed Oil Queen faced the crowd, eschewing her usual spellbinding Bali dance into the ring. Instead, Amara was focused, some nervous energy breaking through the steely facade. Singh slunk from beneath a sparkling gold robe and revealed the curvy form beneath.
The momentary striptease drew a round of rabid applause within the jeers, Singh dropping a pearly sneer upon the peasants. She moved through the ropes, taking center stage.
Amara was clad in an ornately designed, gold bra and matching gold and red, lacy harem pants, her feet bare. Her ebon tresses fell down to just past her shoulders in wild waves, dark copper skin glowing under the lights. Singh raised a microphone to her full rosy lips, drawing another round of catcalls. She waited for them to subside. Determining they may not, she pressed on.
“Like Vishnu, the preserver, I shall set the world right,” Amara proclaimed. “The so-called Raven has used a less than ideal environment as a trap to make a lie the truth. No true champion, no true warrior needs to rely on tricks and ploys. Where we find our truest selves is in this ring. And in this ring I will pluck every feather off the Raven and leave her a withering shell. One that will you finally understand she is nothing but a pitiful peasant and nowhere near the same league as your Empress.”
As the crowd continued to let Singh know of their displeasure, Amara tossed the microphone to the mat and headed for her corner, dark eyes turning away from a large placard stating ‘Oil and canvas…Lenore uses both for her works of art!” Instead Singh trained them on the upper stage and the nearing entrance of the woman who’d humiliated her and would now pay a supreme price.
After Amara‘s anthem faded into the general din, the Announcer raised his mic and resumed his duties. “And introducing her opponent, hailing from Glen Echo Michigan, she stands at five feet seven inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and thirty-one pounds. Representing the Black Court, they call her the Raven… LENORE LEMARCHAND!”
LENORE LEMARCHAND:
Kula Shaker’s ‘Hush’ winged its way into the arena and a cloud of ’Ravens’ went up, Lemarchand’s flock larger than ever in light of her current opposition. They cheered all the louder when Emily West’s Lady in Waiting brushed through the curtain scant seconds after her name was called. Regarding the capacity crowd with a wry smile, Lenore ran a hand across the trim washboard of her tummy and ‘flicked’ an invisible spray of oil in Singh’s direction. After that she hooked her thumbs together and raised the rook high overhead. When it came down she turned to the camera and said, “You should have stuck to the beach, Empress. I already took the Oil. And the Ring was never yours in the first place.”
For her first standard one fall match with a woman she loathed like few others, Lenore wore strappy bikini bottoms hued in a purplish-black and emblazoned with a faint design that careful inspection revealed as feathers. Her top was halter style, with the color and pattern matching her briefs, while her elbow and kneepads were matte black, the latter still obscured by loose, bell-flared 'leggings' that started just south of mid-thigh and dropped to ankle length. Those leggings were also black and featured a stylized version of Lemarchand’s raven insignia done in stark white. Her look was finished with shiny black boots and purple wrist tape that matched her togs.
Brilliant gaze honed in on Amara, Lemarchand ignored the hands extended in her direction as she closed on the squared circle. It wasn’t until she was almost there when a bit of motion off to her left caught her attention.
‘MUMBAI OR ORLANDO
AMARA’S SUBMISSIONS
ALWAYS SOUND THE SAME!
“Feel the same too.” she told the sign waver with a mischievous smile. “Of course you’ll have to take my word on that.” Eager to depose the false queen once and for all, Lemarchand broke into a run and dove under the bottom rope. On her feet in the span between heartbeats, the Fair & Radiant Maiden honed in on Amara and would’ve gone at her then and there if Craig Long hadn’t stepped in her way.
“Ease off for now, Lenore. I’ve got to check your boots and pads.”
Lenore raised her hands and backpedaled to the opposite corner, but not before she noted, “I wasn’t even wearing pads or boots the last two times I beat this brat, Long. And if Amara’s not careful she’ll be wearing even less by the time I’m finished.”
Dismissing the jeers of the Orlando idiots the instant the bell sounded, Amara set out across the canvas with an uncharacteristic sense of urgency in her usually haughty step. Singh would’ve slapped the taste from the mouth of anyone who dared call her desperate and she’d have been right to do it, as an athlete with her poise and credentials was hardly undone by a single defeat, though there was no doubt the Bollywood Bombshell was in a foul mood that wouldn’t fully dissipate until she’d crushed the obnoxious little bird flitting in the opposite corner. Of course this was no twittering ball of feather and fluff, but FAWN’s stately Raven, who strode forth to meet Singh’s advance with every intention of putting the former Eurasian Champion in her place once and for all.
Her ire stoked by the other brunette’s merest approach, Amara raised her hands and beckoned Lemarchand to do the same, so that she might properly greet West’s pathetic lieutenant with the proper show of-- a round of boos from the capacity crowd as Lenore answered Singh’s challenge only find herself folded over the exotique’s back when Amara went low and drove a heavy bronzed shoulder into that alabaster midriff! Hooking Lenore’s upper thighs to better muscle the bendyback onto her encroaching shoulder, Singh kept Lemarchand’s toes well off the canvas as she marched the other brunette back to her corner and BWUUUNGED her against the buckles.
Lenore ‘oooffffhed’ on impact but didn’t hook the ropes or call for a break, rather she cinched an arm around Singh’s head in a rough Facelock and thwhap-thwhap-THWHAPPED her across the upper back with a trio of hard overhand Forearm Smashes. Amara bared her teeth more out of anger than pain, then rewarded Lemarchand’s tenacity with her own set of half a dozen Shoulderblocks, the last of which left the Fair & Radiant Maiden’s pert backside wedged awkwardly on the middle turnbuckle.
Flipping hair off her face as she finally straightened up, Amara CRAAACKED Lenore’s cheek with a stiff slap, then followed up with an insolent claw grip on her rival’s mouth and jaw. “Did you really think you were better than me, peasant?” Singh added another scintillating slap before filling her other hand with the Raven’s dark hair, which she promptly tried to liberate from her scalp. “Did you REALLY think you could embarrass me and get away with it? That I wouldn’t destroy you? ANSWER ME!”
Lenore was far too distracted by a mouthful of Empress talons to manage a proper verbal response, but that didn’t stop her from seizing a double fistful of her opponent’s luxurious locks! Amara snarled and redoubled her efforts to pluck some feathers only to find her efforts thwarted by the meddling efforts of Craig Long, who looped an arm around the Indian’s waist and hauled her back half a dozen steps. “Get a hold of yourself, Amara!” the ref barked. “This is a wrestling match, not a mugg--”
She knocked his hand aside with a single furious swat. “It is whatever I say it is! And keep your filthy hands off me!”
Long proclaimed the cleanliness of his hands, however this fell on deaf ears as Singh rushed by him in a short, explosive charge followed by an equally low leap and a THWHUMPING impact as she flattened Lenore in the corner with a textbook Avalanche Splash. Keeping close in the aftermath to make sure the scrawny little fluke carried every ounce of her weight, Amara snatched a wrist and cooed, “The oil was a pleasant diversion, but I never needed it to destroy the likes of you.”
Short of breath following the Splash, Lemarchand only huffed when Singh stepped away from the buckles, dropped a shoulder and sent her racing across the ring on a sharp diagonal. Separation granted the return of her senses, allowing Emily’s Lady in Waiting to spin in a half circle before she bounced against the roughly-padded steel of the turnbuckles. Back on the other side of the ring, Amara raised her arms high and bellowed, “ON YOUR KNEES, PEASANTS! IT’S TIME TO ADORE YOUR EMPRESS!”
This ‘adoration’ sounded like jeers to everyone who wasn’t Singh, yet that didn’t stop the former Eurasian Champion from racing across the squared circle for a high velocity Hip Check that THWHUMPED a great swath of bronzed Bollywood backside into Lemarchand’s aching abdominals. Keeping close to the other brunette to ensure Lenore couldn’t sneak her way out of danger, Amara grabbed the top rope in both hands, then drew her hips forward and thrust them back to force yet more air from the Courtier’s lungs.
Finally allowing herself a smirk once she felt Lemarchand’s breath blowing hot and sulky against her shoulder, Amara repeated her butt bumping offense twice more, then pulled clear just enough to swivel through a sultry beat before WHUMPING her haunches against Lenore’s belly one more time. “Feel that, peasant?” she cooed while bumping and grinding against the breathless brunette. “That’s me reminding all of these disgusting little people how I treated you the first time we met.”
Lemarchand couldn’t escape the Empress’s encroaching weight so she hooked her fingers into claws and dug ‘em deep into Singh’s flanks. “Of course you’d have to remind them.” the Raven grunted into her attacker’s ear. “After Mumbai and Spring Break everyone’s forgotten that you used to be someOOOFFFHHH!”
Amara ended that insolence with another gluteal wrecking ball, then turned around and smooshed Lenore’s patrician features in a galling fish face. “After tonight they will never forget my superiority.” the Indian stunner hissed. “And neither will you.”
Switching over to a Wristlock before Lemarchand or the official could lodge a complaint, Singh cleared off, dropped a shoulder and slung her back to the corner where she’d endured the initial drubbing. Lenore spun into the collision again only this time she got a foot onto the middle buckle, thus dulling her impact considerably. It was a small detail, but one Amara would’ve noticed from a respectable distance. Alas, her close pursuit meant she didn’t recognize the threat until Lenore sprinted out of the corner and went low with a Basement Dropkick that THWHACKED her just below the knees!
The move was simple as could be, yet timing and placement meant it yielded spectacular results as Singh flipped head over heels to land flat on her butt with a heavy thump! Focus split between the ache in her shins and the burn in her tush, Amara scrambled to boot leather and promptly ate a second Dropkick, this one of the standing variety.
Already off balance, the Golden Empress stumbled hard, tripped and dropped into an awkward seat with her head lolling just beneath the middle buckle. Lenore surveyed the situation before wheeling around to head for the other side of the ring. Only she must’ve thought better of it because the willowy brunette did an about face and raced at the downed exotique. Anchoring herself to the top rope at the last possible second, Lemarchand launched herself into a gorgeous headstand held just long enough to get an ‘ooohh’ from those assembled. Then she swung down and in, long legs stretched just wide enough to DRIVE her backside into Singh’s exposed chest.
HEADSTAND BRONCO BUSTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=tE-hCmws7w4
Impressive though it was, Lenore didn’t so much ‘bust’ her bronco as she did hold her in place until the worst of Amara’s shuddering subsided. “You want to talk about something I’ll never forget, Amara?” Lenore got off her perch only to sink into a crouch before the other brunette. “I’ll never forget the look on your face when you finally realize what sort of trouble you’re in.”
“Silence, peasant.” Singh groaned. “I’m tired of your AAAARRRRRRHHHHH!”
Proximity of the ropes be damned, Lenore seized Amara’s ankles and wrenched her legs wide, all the better to wedge her right heel into the fork of the Bombshell’s crotch!
Amara wailed in agony mixing anger into an emotional mix.The Raven quickly turned her complaining to Craig about the ‘below the belt’ assault into pleading for it to stop, Singh’s palms raised and ‘washing windows’.
“You don’t sound much like an Empress at the moment, do you?” Lemarchand inquired, ignoring Long’s demands for a break.
“STAHHHP,” was the only pain-addled response Singh could manage.
Thankfully for the Indian grappler, Craig began his count, Amara forced to endure another four seconds of Lenore wedging her boot heel deeper into Singh’s privates before raising it and adding a final vicious STOMP.
Amara gurgled, dark eyes rolling halfway back from the brutal trudging. She dropped to a shoulder and rolled out under the bottom rope when the Courtier abided by Long’s demands. Lenore turned to Craig.
“See her take advantage of your kindness?”
Long moved to the ropes to begin a count on the wayward, bent and limping Empress when Lemarchand offered her assistance. She stepped through the ropes and dropped to the floor a few feet behind the waddling Singh, Amara with one hand deep between her thighs, trying to relieve the radiating pain.
The FAWNatics, not usually enamored with either woman, seemed to offer dispensation for the night to the Raven, such was their disdain of the Subcontinental warrior. They cheered loudly as Lenore stalked her former oil pit plaything from arears.
Grabbing the long lush ebony mane of the retreating Singh from behind, Emily’s lieutenant led Amara several steps forward, drew back the noggin of the Empress, and SLAMMED her forehead into the top steel step. The Indian grappler’s braincase snapped back from the impact, Amara spinning in a 180 and flopping into Lemarchand’s arms.
It’s a swift and easy transition for Lenore to collect Amara’s arms in a set of Underhooks.
“Say goodnight,” Lenore remarked matter-of-factly before laying out and delivering the crown of Singh’s skull to the thinly padded cement floor with a DDT that sent the flaccid body of the Empress tumbling over into a motionless starfish.
DOUBLE UNDERHOOK DDT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=jX0vKctVxNg
Seated next to the demolished Singh, the Raven turned her attention to Long’s growing count. She dove under the bottom rope for a split-second and returned to the floor to Craig’s frustration but not surprise.
“What?” Lenore asked accusingly. “You’re going to bring that deadweight back in yourself?”
Lemarchand dipped and scooped her arms under those of Singh’s from behind. She struggled to raise the semiconscious Amara to vertical and had to use the apron’s edge as a way to keep the Empress upright. Leaning Singh against the mat, Lenore took a quick break to dramatically wipe her brow.
“Leaving this woman a ruin is hard work,” the Raven announced to the front rows, “but it’s rewarding.”
Piece said, she lifted and stuffed Amara back onto the legal playing field at ‘SEVEN’ and rejoins her at ‘EIGHT’. Lenore seemed almost pleased to see Singh rising to all fours, some fight remaining that she could remove from the reeling Amara.
Striding comfortably to the Empress, Lenore mounted the head of the rising Indian from the front and clamped down with a Standing Headscissors. She crossed her ankles to apply that extra bit of pressure, forcing a deeper shade of red from the flushing face of Amara.
“I’m going to…” Singh grunts.
“You’ll do nothing,” Lenore corrected. “But learn your place. I strongly suggest a place on the first flight back to Mumbai.”
Amara wrapped her arms around the sinewy, ivory-skinned thighs of her tormentor and tried to lift the Raven off her feet. There’s barely a budge after the beating she’s endured the last minutes and Lenore bent over to give Singh’s rump a blistering swat.
The crowd approved wholeheartedly, so much so Lemarchand raised an open palm as if to ask if they want another delivered. With a resounding ‘YES’ chant, Lenore nodded and started to swing her paddle down but stopped short.
“Remember. Raven,” Lenore reminded, making the throngs aggravatingly aware she didn’t take requests from the rabble.
The disappointed FAWNatics grumbled and groused, but their anger was lost in the background when Lenore instead dipped and wrapped her arms around the coppery tummy of Singh. With a loud grunt Lemarchand released her Scissors and hauled Amara up in a forward flip of a lift that caught the uninitiated by surprise, so powerful was the display by the Courtier.
The planned Powerbomb from out of nowhere was interrupted however when Amara found the strength to waken from her semi-slumber and wrap her left arm around the noggin of the Raven. Laying out was the ‘easy’ part for Amara and she RIPPED Lenore off her feet into a DDT. Now it’s the alabaster-skinned brunette’s turn to tumble through the concussive blow, sliding to a stop in a wide spreadeagle. Unfortunately for the Subcontinental, she could do no more than remain horizontal herself, drawing in deep breaths and trying to fully regain her senses, instinct alone having saved her for the moment.
With both women laid out, the crowd is willing to give them their due, offering a “THIS IS AWESOME” chant that may or may not be the reason the combatants finally stirred from their slumber at Craig’s deliberate count of ‘FIVE’. The women moved in unison, rolling up to all fours together at ‘SEVEN’ and pushing to their feet at ‘NINE’. Immediately, they rushed toward the other, dropping a shoulder and NAILING each other with simultaneous blocks. Amara and Lenore each stumbled back a couple steps before regaining their balance, each silent and staring lasers.
The fury of being made a spectacle in oil not once but twice fueling her, Amara responded first, again rushing at the Raven. Dipping, she wrapped her arms under those of Lenore, encircling Lemarchand’s chest, and pumped her coppery stems with enough power to get the Raven backpedaling to the strands. Leaning her into the cables, Singh cinches a Bear Hug while the Black Courtier sought a stalemate by capturing the Indian’s head in a Front Facelock.
With neither woman in full control and against the strands, Long called for the break. Surprisingly, it’s a quick and clean one, until Amara THUMPED a forearm blast into Lenore’s jaw, shooting her foe’s head in the opposite direction. Rocked, the Raven tried to get a blocking forearm in place for the next volley but Amara got it there too quickly. The second shot put Lenore on rubbery legs, a third almost removing her from verticality. But the lithe, sinewy brunette leaned her right arm over the top cable to maintain and when blow number four was on the way, Lemarchand ducked it and swung her left arm between the legs of the Empress.
The Black Courtier heaved the off-balance Singh, Amara popping over the cables. The Indian beauty caught herself on the apron but turned and ATE a forearm delivery from Lemarchand as a response. With Amara wobbling, it’s Lenore who provided an assist of a sort by capturing Singh’s head in a Front Facelock. Stepping away from the ropes with possession, Lenore forced Amara’s body across the top rope, stretching the copper-toned frame to its furthest, Singh’s ankles hooking over the rubber-coated steel.
In the blink of an eye, Lenore spun violently while laying out and demolished Amara with a rope-assisted Neckbreaker that drew a loud ‘OOOOH’ from the crowd, the Empress again apparently dethroned, a languid pile of limbs and torso next to the sapped but satisfied Raven.
ROPE-ASSISTED NECKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=HjzcslFthOs
Those fans that counted themselves members of the Raven’s Rookery urged their heroine to go for a cover and Lemarchand did indeed position herself above Singh’s head. But rather than pin she hooked Amara under the armpits and draaaaaaaaaagged her well away from the safety of the strands. The Empress, vaguely aware she was being positioned for something she wouldn’t much care for, struggled to a seat and reached back to latch onto the other brunette’s biceps. “Get your disgusting little claws off of me, peasNNGGHHH!”
Lenore got to her feet just to drop to one knee, jamming the bony joint between Singh’s shoulders. “It’s about time you learned to watch your mouth.” Lemarchand noted as she laced both hands across the Indian’s jaw. “Otherwise you won’t be able to use it for anything other than screaming.”
Amara started to answer, but was cut off when the Fair & Radiant Maiden wrenched back, the simple combination of Chinlock and knee posted against the nape of her neck silencing the Bombshell as effectively as any Sleeper. Such holds rarely led to submissions in the annals of FAWN, but Craig Long didn’t much like the angle of Singh’s neck especially when factoring the Neckbreaker only moments prior. So he strode over and leaned down, careful to stay clear of his charge’s reach. “How you doing, Amara? Need me to call for the bell?”
Amara replied with something unprintable, which drew a smirk from the Courtier. “No need to waste your breath so early, Craig. I’m sure everyone will know when the Empress here has had enough for the EERRRHHH!” Amara stopped tugging at her attacker’s wrists and went for her hair instead, the struggling exotique filling both hands with a whole lot of Lenore’s long, dark locks.
The ref noted the infraction at once and demanded Amara release the illegal grip, Lenore however only ground her knee a little harder. “One warning, princess.” she growled. “Let go of my hair right now or I’ll make you let go.”
Singh only pulled harder, the former Eurasian Champion seemingly intent on denuding a section of her foe’s scalp. “Peasants do not issue warnings to royalty, bytch. They fall to their hands and knees in adoration as they paAAAAAAARRRRGGGHHH!”
Lemarchand halved the Chinlock, reached down with her free hand and twisted Amara’s right nipple in a savage half circle. The surprise pincer broke Singh’s concentration on the hair-hold, so Lenore ended her own catty tactic and cuffed her rival upside the head with heavy Crossface Forearm Smash. Stunned by the blow, Amara offered little protest when Lenore secured her own handful of hair and used it to stretch the Empress out flat. “You’re not royalty, Amara.” Lenore sniped as she drew the other woman’s head between her thighs. “You’re a failed movie star and you would’ve been a failed wrestler if you hadn’t thrown sand in my eyes one afternoon on the beach.”
Curling her left leg so Singh’s chin was nocked in the pit of her knee, Lenore tucked that shin beneath her right knee and began to squeeeeeeeeeeze down on a classic Figure Four Headscissors. Amara groaned, beat her heels against the canvas and started slapping at Lemarchand’s constricting gams. Hands on the mat, the Courtier boosted her butt by a good six inches and thrust her hips forward, adding a painful neck wrench to the predicament. After fifteen seconds or so she returned to the mat and swatted the Empress’s forehead. “Give up. Or I’ll put you to sleep.”
Singh grabbed for her wrist, settled for raking Lemarchand’s encroaching thigh. “Yuuuuhhhh…. you’ll do nothing of the sorMMMMMMMPPPPPPPHHHH!”
Lenore cupped a hand over Amara’s mouth and nose and clamped down hard. “When are you going to learn you shouldn’t talk down to me?” Lemarchand snapped. “Maybe I should’ve ridden you a little harder in the Oil PiEERRRRRRRRHHH F*CK!”
Amara snatched hold of her opponent’s wrist and wrenched the Raven’s fingers like she meant to snap them all off at the first knuckle! Hurting, but not yet willing to abandon a hold that could end this fight right now, Lenore crunched up into the highest seat she could manage and unloaded on the Indian’s exposed pate with half a dozen quick hammer punches. The last of those freed the Courtier’s other hand, but it ended the HOM Smother and Amara was fighting the Scissors harder than ever so Lemarchand took drastic measures. Rolling onto her hands and knees with the Scissors still in place, Emily’s Lady in Waiting rose up as high as she could, then tucked her head and rolled through a slow motion somersault that powered Amara off the canvas and brought her THWHUMPING down flat on her back! An impressive show of strength no doubt, but it wasn’t over yet as Lenore immediately rolled to her tummy and repeated the tumble with the same canvas-shivering results.
ROLLING HEADSCISSOR SLAM:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=LWBGH1wGHVE
If one was good and two was better than three was surely the best, so Lemarchand twisted over and set for the trifecta, only this time Singh got her knees under her and sloooooooooowly powered to her feet with the wide-eyed battler seated astride her shoulders! Cursing the mistake, Lenore sent a frantic constriction through the Scissors and pounded on Amara’s forehead, unfortunately the Bollywood Bombshell endured it just long enough to go up on her tiptoes and lay out full length. The Electric Chair Drop wasn’t fancy, but it broke Lemarchand’s grip with authority, the Courtier THWHAMMED into the thinly-sheathed plywood with cringe-worthy force. As if the situation wasn’t troublesome enough, Singh palmed the woozy woman’s knees and bridged up on her toes in the aftermath, effectively stacking Lenore on her shoulders for the…
ELECTRIC CHAIR DROP:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=FGVucBbJfuc
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
Lemarchand bucked loose and flopped onto her back, saving the match with half a second to spare.
Finally free from the Raven’s hateful clutches, Amara slowly rolled to her hands and knees and just sucked wind for several seconds. Rising only once the pounding in her temples subsided to a tolerable level, Singh flipped hair out of her eyes and was disgusted to see Lemarchand hauling herself up as well. “Steady yourself, peasant.” the brunette called out with only a trace of her usual haughtiness. “I want those knees steady before they hit the mat in front of your Empr--”
Lemarchand rushed her with another one of those light-dimming Forearm Smashes on her mind but Amara dipped low, leaving her adversary to race the ropes on her six. Whirling around even as she made the evasion, Singh loped after her which meant she was all up in the Raven’s business as soon as Lemarchand turned around. Startled by the Bombshell’s proximity, Lenore took wing in what would’ve been a gorgeous leap frog if Amara hadn’t grabbed her biceps and yanked her down into a Kneelift that landed right between the eyes.
MID-AIR KNEESTRIKE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=pGA2Rb4LxDo
Lenore’s noggin snapped back with whiplash force and she crumpled to her knees only for Amara to keep her at least semi-upright thanks to a Front Facelock. Helping herself to a stern handful of Lenore’s purple trunks, Singh hoisted her up to about three o’clock, just high enough to drop her tummy-first across the top rope. From there she stepped backward until the other brunette was suspended by the Facelock at one end and her ankles at the other. “You’re barely qualified to stand in the shadows of a queen.” Amara sniffed as she shifted from the Front Facelock to one of the Three Quarters variety. “And yet you somehow think yourself worthy of usurping an Empress?”
Lemarchand offered no response worthy of the Bollywood Bombshell’s time, so Singh went up on her toes, then dropped to one knee to THWHUMP her foe’s skull against the posted joint. The Fair & Radiant Maiden jounced away and landed hard on her back, the perfect resting place for an exultant Empress as she sidled into a Back Press and hooked the far leg for…
SINGH-SATIONAL FACEBUSTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=-vAWBRmTHfc
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOO!
Lenore threw a shoulder up with Long’s flattened palm inches away from victory for the Empress. Rising to her haunches next to the Raven, Amara swept her hands though her long ebony locks in disbelief, both at her opponent and the zebra.
“You can’t tell me,” Singh griped.
Technically Long didn‘t, holding up two fingers instead. The Indian took a disdainful swipe at his raised hand then moved her digits into Lenore’s brunette mane, yanking her up to rubbery legs.
Amara drove a Toe Kick deep into the ivory tummy of the Black Courtier, doubling the reeling Lemarchand over. Amara pulled the lowered noggin of her foe between her bronze legs, clamping down with a Standing Headscissors, thighs pressing into temples to further debilitate the Oil Baroness. Wrapping her arms around the flushed Raven, Singh loosened her legs enough to heave Lenore up in a front flip.
Seated on the Bollywood Bombshell’s shoulders in Powerbomb position, Lenore immediately realized she’s in dire straits and balled her right fist. But before Lenore could fire, Singh carried the Raven toward a nearby set of buckles, showing her strength in shuffling toward the buckles with Lemarchand topside, then tossing her foe the rest of the way when the duo drew into range for a Buckle Bomb.
BUCKLE BOMB:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=DAln8NB8e-E
Lenore’s spine RAMMED into the thinly-padded steel junctures, the Raven bouncing out a couple steps into the waiting arms of Singh. The Empress dipped and swung an arm between the alabaster stems of the Raven, ‘hupping’ Lemarchand off the deck and onto her right shoulder. Battered by the bomb, Lenore managed little in the way of resistance when the Indian pivoted and BODY SLAMMED Lenore to the deck.
SWINGING BODY SLAM:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=TYYO0AUbx94
Left in a single file of achy Raven, Lenore seemed stunned and a smirking Amara saw the grand finale in sight, namely her signature Bollywood Ending. She dropped into a reverse straddling mount of Lenore’s chest, forcing a huge exhale from the Raven, any remaining oxygen forced from her lungs by the impact to her chest.
“Now you learn an important lesson, peasant,” Singh proclaimed over a shoulder as she started to back her Empress ass up, sliding her derriere to the hollow of the gulping neck of Lemarchand.
Lenore raised her palms to press against the coppery-skinned hips of her rival to stem the tide, but Singh’s momentum was unstoppable. She slipped her undercarriage over the Raven’s chin and it’s an easy waggle of Amara’s ass over her foe’s lips and nose to create a seal and bring on the frenzied flails of a panicky Courtier, dark eyes darting.
The Indian slipped her calves under Lenore’s shoulders to force her mug deeper into the ‘Ending’ and to keep Lemarchand from being pinned for a three-count before the full humiliation of being knocked unconscious was rendered. Singh, humbled and humiliated by the Baroness in her oily environs, apparently needed more than a win but a statement in return.
Enjoying her uneven cushion, Singh’s perfect pearlies flashed. Amara raised her arms in triumph as Lenore’s upper limbs became less energetic and coordinated, wavering like reeds in the wind.
“You have found your place, peasant. Your proper plaAAAAHHH!”
Not accounting for the Raven’s lower limbs, Amara was caught off-guard and on the chin by a pelvic thrust from the Courtier that swung Lenore’s legs within range, the heels THUMPING into the tip of the Empress’ jaw. Head snapping back from the impact, Amara tumbled in a backward somersault off her mount, Lemarchand emerging, gasping and greasy-faced. She rolled to her chest and pushed against the canvas to slither backward several feet along the mat, making space between herself and Singh.
Amara, ending in a seated position, leaning against the ropes, legs extended, massaged her jaw and shook her noggin to clean out some cobwebs. Smile removed, the Indian beauty used the cables to pull to her feet while Lemarchand shoved to all fours, her dark eyes glued to those of the Bollywood Bombshell.
Singh strode purposefully to Lenore, the Raven rising to meet Amara head on, but that head got put on a swivel when the Empress succeeded in delivering a forearm blow to Lemarchand’s jaw. The stubborn brunette managed to remain upright despite the nasty collision, but that suited Singh just fine. The Indian snatched a wrist and pivoted, Irish Whipping her foe toward the far buckles. Sent racing across the canvas, the Raven turned and CRASHED into the corner at full speed, body shuddering but remaining vertical.
Amara followed her target in, at the last second leaping onto the upper thighs of the Raven, her laced fingers wrapping around the neck of the beleaguered Courtier. Throwing her body weight back, Amara Monkey Flipped Lenore over. But instead of crashing to her tailbone or spine, Lemarchand nimbly landed on her feet. She spun in a U-turn to see the clueless Amara kip to hers cheerfully, arms high and wide in celebration.
Singh turned and ATE a superlative Super Kick to the jaw that drew a roar from the partisan crowd and a staggering shimmy from Amara. The Empress fainted into the ropes to her side, unintentionally springboarding into a delving Toe Kick to the coppery abs of the Indian grappler, the plush pursed lips of the Empress bursting open in a violent exhalation.
The Raven, already taken flight, sprinted to the ropes behind her and rebounded in a full dash to the doubled Singh. Lenore NAILED her foe with a vicious Knee Trembler that knocked the senses from the Subcontinental warrior, the Empress spinning down to all fours from an impact that rightly drew a loud ‘OOOOH’ from the crowd.
KNEE TREMBLER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=vqsgdfPIeGo
As Lenore skidded to a stop after the attack and saw the glassy-eyed and penitent Amara a few steps removed, the Raven’s confidence from oily victories past revived instantly.
To her credit, the sultry Empress forced up raggedly, stumbling and stooped as Lemarchand approached. Lenore wrapped an arm around the back of Singh’s neck. The Raven plucked Amara’s opposite arm and laid it over her neck. Her right hand reached across her body for Amara’s right leg and the Courtier lifted and crossed with Singh’s left.
Dipping, her handle in place, Lenore vaulted Amara airborne with a loud grunt. She pointed the crown of Singh’s skull to the canvas and laid out, absolutely DESTROYING the Bombshell, sending her foe into the Bleakest December ever with her signature buster.
BLEAK DECEMBER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=R-YmNe1MZgk
Lenore spread the semiconscious, bronzed jumble of torso and limbs that’s left of Amara into a motionless pancake and climbed aboard in a full body pin for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
Singh powered her way to one side with half a heartbeat to spare, but any relief she might’ve felt (along with any dismay from the FAWNatics) was summarily dismissed when Lemarchand immediately hauled her to a slumped seat and nuzzled in behind. Stretched out on her left hip, the Courtier hooked that arm around Amara’s left bicep while her left leg threaded over the Indian’s right arm. It looked for all the world like a Crucifix, yet instead of drawing her foe back for a cover, Lenore brought her right leg up n’ over, wedging the cudgel of her calf against Singh’s jaw while simultaneously securing an S-grip on the other side of her rival’s head.
ONCE UPON A MIDNIGHT DREARY:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=iFsDUfgURgI
“AAAARRRRRHHHHHH GRRRRHHHHHHHH!” Amara wailed in abject anguish as she was twisted and tortured ‘Once Upon a Midnight Dreary’.
Unmoved by Singh’s suffering, Lenore pushed out with her right leg and pulled forward on the S-grip to slowly but surely squeeeeeeeeeeeze the air from the former Eurasian Champion’s lungs. “Submit!” she demanded while scraping the back of her boot along Singh’s protesting features. “Or I’ll choke you out!”
Amara believed it and even if she didn’t, the spots dancing before her eyes believed it for her. Keening in disgust and rage at the thought of three straight losses to the Courtier, Singh planted her feet and bridged up as high as she could in hopes of alleviating the pressure. It might’ve worked for the briefest of moments, alas the Raven gave the hellish hold another hard shake and Amara’s bridge collapsed like a sandcastle in the rain.
“TAP!” Lemarchand bellowed as the exotique’s struggles began to trail off into slow motion. Lenore grrrrrrroooound her knuckles against Singh’s cheek, the vindictive brunette clearly enjoying the feel of sub-continental slobber on her hands. “You’re done, Empress.” the Raven promised. “Just tap out and it’ll be all WHOOOAAAAHHH!”
Much as it galled her admit, Amara couldn’t break her nemesis’s grip so she did the next best thing and forced Lemarchand to break it for her by plowing forward into the other woman’s grip! Caught off guard by the power and suddenness of Singh’s resurgence, Lenore couldn’t stop the bronzed brunette from stacking her on her shoulders in an improvised cradle good for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
They exploded apart at the last possible second, Lemarchand’s explosive escape hatch sending her tumbling backward onto her belly while Singh barrel rolled in the opposite direction. Breathing hard after expending so much energy over the last thirty seconds or so, the Fair & Radiant Maiden eventually flipped the hair out of her face and spied Amara dragging herself under the bottom rope to the apron. “No way, baby.” Lenore huffed amidst a return to verticality. “You couldn’t run from the Oil Pit, you sure as hell can’t run from the ring.”
Happy to prove this point, she stalked over to Singh’s side of the ring and climbed out onto the apron just as the Empress regained her footing. “Disgusting peasant!” Amara croaked as Lemarchand sank a greedy hand into her hair. “How dare you NNNNNNGGGHHHHH!” Singh’s indignity was cut off by an unpleasant ‘BWUNG!’ as Lenore marched her down the narrow ledge and bounced her head off the top turnbuckle once, twice, three times!
Clinging to the steel post for balance, Amara eased her way around the corner and managed to turn around, no easy feat considering Lemarchand still had hold of her hair. Lenore smiled as she twisted Singh’s dark locks around her fist. “Where do you think you’re going, bytch? I thought an Empress never gave up groEEERRRRHHHH F*CK!”
The Bollywood Bombshell feigned a hair pull of her own only to palm the Courtier’s noggin for a double eye gouge! Long and the FAWNatics protested along with Lenore but Singh didn’t give a damn now that she was free of the Raven’s hateful grasp. Of course she celebrated with a hateful clasp of her own, a double fistful of hair she used to twist Lemarchand around in a half circle despite the tricksy confines. With both brunettes positioned on opposite sides of the ring post, Amara shifted from her hair-hold to a Chinlock, one that made sure she was in full control of Lenore’s head when she stepped off the apron and TWAAAANGED the back of her prey’s neck over the short length of exposed steel that anchored the top turnbuckle to the post!
TURNBUCKLE NECKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=FGbIQxTnYM8
Outrage from those assembled turned to concern as Lemarchand’s head snapped forward with sickening whiplash force. And yet somehow Emily’s Lady in Waiting kept upright, the tenacious bendyback leaning heavily against the strands while she tried to massage the hurt from her neck. Around the corner a short distance, Amara watched the stumbling lovely with a vile mixture of hate and incredulity. She started to say something only to choose silence as she loped around the corner and sprang onto the apron behind her foe. Twisting around so she was back to back with the wounded Raven, Singh reached over and caught her in another Reverse Chinlock, then leapt up and laid out to THWHUNK Lenore down flat with her second Neckbreaker in less than a minute!
APRON NECKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=hELy0DXcSCY
Lemarchand hit the apron hard and there was no standing this time, though there was never any worry of a count-out as Amara immediately stuffed her under the bottom rope. Sliding in after the flattened fighter with a sense of urgency she didn’t often display, Singh draaaaaaaagged Lenore to the middle of the ring, then planted a foot beside either hip and bent down to seize her opponent’s biceps. Dropping into a deep crouch even as she hoisted Lemarchand’s torso off the mat, Amara threaded those captured arms over her thighs and secured an S-grip of her own against the Raven’s chin.
CAMEL CLUTCH:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=WjD293CIIEs
“AAAAAAAHH GAAAAAAAWWWWD STAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHP!” Lenore shrieked to the rafters as Singh twisted her into a tipped over ‘L’ with the most emphatic Camel Clutch FAWN had seen in quite some time.
“ASK HER!” Amara barked as she put more and more pressure on that traumatized neck.
Craig Long crouched close to the action and did as bade. “What do you say, Lenore? Do you submit?”
Lenore tried to hold on, but her resistance crumbled after less than ten seconds and she nodded as best she could and slapped at Singh’s thighs for confirmation.
The ref called for the bell at once, alas, Amara didn’t release her grip. “SAY IT!” she demanded over the CLANG of the bell. “SAY IT, PEASANT!”
“I SUBMIT! I SUBMIT! FAAAAAAHHK, LET ME GONNNGGGHH!”
Amara released the Clutch and slammed her foe’s forehead into the thinly-sheathed plywood, thus ensuring there was no interruption when the Announcer confirmed, “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner via submission… AMARA SINGH!”
The Empress closed her eyes and indulged in a contented sigh as her name echoed through the arena, but her usual arrogance was not in evidence when she deigned to gaze upon the unworthy peasant hordes once more. Rather she looked to Long and demanded, “Get me a microphone, little man.”
Craig hesitated, clearly worried about his charge exacerbating the damage to Lemarchand’s neck. “Put her in the Clutch again and I’ll reverse the decision immediately, Amara.”
Singh snorted. “I wouldn’t ask for a mic if I planned to wring the little bird’s neck, now would I?”
This seemed to satisfy the zebra, who procured a mic from a FAWN flunky and promptly offered it to the Bollywood Bombshell. Thus armed, Amara bent down, grabbed Lemarchand’s shoulder and dropped to her knees, all the better to wedge the fork of her crotch against the point of the Raven’s chin. Such pressure would’ve been unpleasant under the best of circumstances, it was all the worse for Lemarchand considering the strain of the Neckbreakers and Camel Clutch. Grimacing at the encroachment she tried to push at Singh’s knees and a weak bridge followed immediately thereafter, alas the victorious Empress shut that down with a single hard swat to trembling ivory tummy.
With her thighs pressed in against the Courtier’s cheeks, Amara raked a hand through her hair, then pointed an imperious index finger at her opponent’s nose. “You embarrassed me in Mumbai, little bird.” she said over the jeers of the throng. “And you HUMILIATED me at March to War. Tonight I have eased the sting of that degradation somewhat by submitting you in the center of this ring that you hold so dear.” Amara smirked when Lenore bared her teeth and smiled when she ‘tap, tap, tapped’ the tip of her rival’s nose. “Any other woman would use my position to challenge you to a match next month, but I am not just any woman, as you well know. I am FAWN’s only Empress and my vengeance is something terrible to behold. You stole the Oil Pit from me, Raven. Usurped my throne, made it your own and forced me to adore you like I was a groveling peasant.”
“I’ll… I’ll do it again too, you arrogant byMMMPPPHHHH!”
Singh slid forward and ground down, forcing her undercarriage onto Lemarchand’s defenseless mouth and nose. “You took something precious to me, girl. So now I will take something precious to you. Not at Red, White and Bruised, not even at Fawnamania, but at All Hallows Evil. I hereby challenge you for the Queen’s Chambers. Do you accept?”
She rose onto her knees and stuck the mic down a few inches from Lenore’s face.
“Buuuuhhhhhh….buuuuhhh…. bytch…. I accept. And you’re gonna find out once and for all MMMMMMMMBBBBBGGGGHHHHHHH!”
Amara sat down a second time and this time there was no talking, no promises and no threats, just a spiteful little Bollywood dance party that lasted until well after the sun had set on Lenore’s consciousness. “Take the summer off to recover from this shame.” Singh sniffed after she’d rose to her feet. “But those Chambers better be fit for an Empress at All Hallows Evil. Because if they aren’t my first act as Queen will be to appoint you as my new maid.”
Lemarchand would have MUCH to say on this before the night was over but at the moment silence reigned supreme so Amara placed her foot on the brunette’s chest and let the Gladiatrix photogs chronicle her greatness until the broadcast cut away to a video hyping the World Title Match.
