Post by EmmaWoods007 on Aug 12, 2018 10:44:19 GMT
LADY LIBERTY
IRMA IRONS
It didn’t take an expert to see that both young women within the squared circle were on their last legs, the Girl Called Liberty and the Weaponised Wolverine scarcely standing after a brutal encounter that had pushed them both to their respective limits. Punch drunk as they were, the two polar opposites were still willing, a battle of stamina that the FAWNatics were concerned only one of them could win.
While it was true that Lady Liberty had spent most of her career coming from behind, winning matches that, by all accounts, she had no right to do so, willing herself to victory via spirit alone, few could go through the grinder against Irons and emerge with the win after it.
But then, in the heartland of America, anything was possible…
For the time being, the flag attired blonde was wedged deep in one corner, pert buttocks perched upon the middle turnbuckle to keep her upright, her arms hanging limp by her sides. She moaned in disorientation, still struggling to shake off the effects of a brutal piledriver from several minutes earlier. Liberty had powered out of the resulting attempt at a pinfall, but she had been left in little state to defend herself since then, a third wind proving to be illusive.
So it was that she remained a sitting duck, regardless of how much her country folk willed her to dive out the way, the youthful competitor looking up with glassy eyes just in time to witness her oncoming doom. Iron’s charged across the ring, yelling as she did so, leaping at the last moment and SLAMMING all one hundred and twenty-five pounds of her hardbody physique into the unprotected mass of her opponent, burying her beneath a brutal Avalanche Splash!!
The Girl Called Liberty exhaled almost violently as she was flattened into the unyielding corner beneath the high velocity impact, shivering from head to toe as she struggled to recover. There was no time to do so, not when the bloodied lipped Irma grabbed her by her curls and yanked her forwards, the Manchester Malcontent possessing not even an iota of mercy.
Somehow resisting the urge to simply puddle onto the canvas, the Lady swayed on rubbery knees as she was herded to centre ring, pliable putty in the hands of her foe.
Iron’s, for her own part, look equally bedraggled, exhaling heavily as she had absorbed her own fair share of punishing offence, her dark eyes unblinking as blood thrummed inside her temples. She had lost her temper at least ten minutes earlier, and once that particular beast had been let off the leash, there was no getting back on track, not until the Brit had been sated by her pound of flesh. She had a point to prove, she always had a point to prove, and no-one was going to stop her from doing so.
Tonight was supposed to be a Homecoming for Lady Liberty, instead it would be her Funeral Parade.
Irons collected one arm of her wilting opponent, before shoving her own between the other girls all too willing thighs, grunting as she hupped the other young woman clean up over her shoulders in a crippling Argentine Backbreaker. Liberty immediately released an involuntary cry as her spine was sharply contorted, her golden physique stiffening before capitulating to the pressure of the savage arc, her bright curls bobbing as she shivered in new misery. Iron’s flashed a grin towards the hard camera that displayed far too many teeth before adjusting her posture, turning about in a slow, full circle to ensure those watching knew what was coming.
She felt savage vindication at the FAWNatics mounting despair, these heartland losers forced to embrace the truth, the sooner they accepted it, the sooner she might stop breaking their favourite bytches in hal…
Perhaps it was due to the fatigue that Irma herself had been feeling, perhaps it was the slickness of both of their sweaty frames, perhaps it was the sheer will to survive burning from within Liberty, perhaps it was a combination of all of the above, but when the time came to Iron’s to follow through… a resurgent Lady slipped free from her grasp!
With a shout of defiance and wrenching of her own limbs, Liberty yanked herself away from the Argentine Backbreaker, dropping to the mat and landing unsteadily upon her feet.
The infuriated Irma struggled to hold on, cursing when she was unable to do so, screaming in frustration as she lost control of her cargo all together. The Dark-Haired Destroyer turned herself about…
Only for Liberty to surge right up to vertical with a patriotic shout and delivering a blistering, All American Uppercut!!
All American Uppercut
www.youtube.com/watch?v=wgZPqsYPW3s
Her home crowd erupted as her tensed bicep connected flush beneath the chin of the Manchester Malcontent, snapping her head backwards at a sharp angle and forcing spittle to escape out from between the thug’s lips. Many a foe had been upended by that very blow and they watched in anticipation, Irma stumbling in a full circle, her legs threatening to buckle at any moment, before she came to a blank eyed stop. She blinked, teetered, momentarily reaching blindly towards some unknown destination, before she dropped down HARD!! to one knee.
Her noggin continued to bob left and then right, but she refused to topple further…
If Lady was disappointed that her signature strike had failed to send Iron’s all the way down to the canvas, she had the composure to not show it, instead forcing herself to stand tall as she glowed from head to toe. The Flag attired beauty took a moment to steady her breathing, every inch the heroine the heartland crowd took her to be, moving to hoist the shell-shocked Irma back to her feet so that she could put her to bed, and deliver a dose of much needed humility…
Only for her bright blue eyes to open wide as a furiously vindictive Irons to RAMMED!! home a brutal uppercut of her own, this one DRIVEN!! between the thighs of the stunning blonde.
Irma’s tensed bicep SLAMMED!! up into her opponents unprotected, star spangled seethed sex with crippling force, Lady gasping in heart breaking misery as she genuflected forwards, falling to her knees before her opponent.
Irons snarled in anticipation as she grabbed the penitent girl by her converted, blonde lochs and, with her noggin suitably secured, snapped her own cranium forwards into a savage Headbutt!! Foreheads met with a sickening THUNK!!, the flag attired heroine recoiling as though she had been shot, a second Headbutt quickly following and driving her into a blank eyed stupor. She remained kneeling because Irma allowed it, her blue eyes half lidded and her lips parted open, all sense of defiance having flown the coop.
Far from satisfied, Irons pushed herself back up to vertical and dragged the finally, fully depleted blonde with her, no amount of hometown advantage going to resuscitate her now. With a deep throated grunt which was as much a show of dominance as it was a sign of exertion, Irons heaved, hupped and lifted the supine frame of her lithe opponent back up over her shoulders, and back into an Argentine Backbreaker.
As her back spine anew, the Girl Called Liberty was so far gone in her own stupor that she was unable to voice anything more than instinctive whimpers, the soft moans escaping out from her arched throat.
Perhaps it was because she could see the Official approaching to check on her capitulated cargo, perhaps it was because she was far more knackered than she was ever going to admit, or perhaps her patience, fleeting to begin with, had finally worn so thin that she no longer gave a single damn about showing off, whatever the reason, Iron’s wasn’t grandstanding for the camera this time.
Bracing her powerful posture for one last surge of effort, Irma adjusted her grip and, with a growl that was primordial, she bench pressed the flag attired, home town heroine above her head before dropping down swiftly to one knee. Assisted by gravity, she DROPPED!! Lady Liberty a full five feet and counting to land viciously across her posted thigh, the blonde exhaling a silent scream as her spine contorted violently upon the wrong end of the Backbreaker, her whole body spasming before she fell limp.
She lay there, curled about her opponents’ limb, shivering through the aftereffects of the crippling Iron Driver, her golden physique puddling to the canvas the moment a contemptuous Irons shoved her free.
Irma wasted no time, straddling the downed young woman and, after reaching back, collected both of her long, athletic stems to complete a painfully compact, schoolgirl pin, Liberties star spangled toosh pointed straight up towards the rafters.
The Official wasted no time either, dropping straight down to the canvas to count a mournful…
ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!
Iron’s released her opponents’ lifeless limbs, and those glorious stems dropped gamely to the canvas, laying there with but a single twitch to betray further signs of life. Irma both inhaled and exhaled deeply, her blood still well and truly up, but as she stared down into the formally defiant, now vacant features of the beautiful blonde beneath her, opening and closing her own fingers into fists, her toothy grin found its way back onto her own features.
She stood back up, victory filling her with violent vindication, and when the Official thought better than to approach her, she raised her own hand in triumph, grinning with bloody teeth at the FAWNatics as they voiced their displeasure.
“Come on then!!” she shouted, banging on her own chest for vindication, “Say it!! SAY IT!!”
When those in attendance refused to take the bait, she filled in the blanks for them, banging on her own chest three more times for emphasis.
“WORLDS! BEST!! BRIT!!!”
They booed, but she didn’t care, grinning all the more, almost manic in her joy, stamping her right boot hard upon the chest of the already defeated Liberty as though she were planting a flag, earning a fresh groan from the hometown girl.
“WORLDS! BEST!! BRIT!!!” she repeated, relishing the ‘title’ she had ripped from Samantha Sinclair, thrusting her arms out wide as a conqueror, demanding it to be so.
“WORLDS! BEST!! BRIT!!!”
IRMA IRONS
It didn’t take an expert to see that both young women within the squared circle were on their last legs, the Girl Called Liberty and the Weaponised Wolverine scarcely standing after a brutal encounter that had pushed them both to their respective limits. Punch drunk as they were, the two polar opposites were still willing, a battle of stamina that the FAWNatics were concerned only one of them could win.
While it was true that Lady Liberty had spent most of her career coming from behind, winning matches that, by all accounts, she had no right to do so, willing herself to victory via spirit alone, few could go through the grinder against Irons and emerge with the win after it.
But then, in the heartland of America, anything was possible…
For the time being, the flag attired blonde was wedged deep in one corner, pert buttocks perched upon the middle turnbuckle to keep her upright, her arms hanging limp by her sides. She moaned in disorientation, still struggling to shake off the effects of a brutal piledriver from several minutes earlier. Liberty had powered out of the resulting attempt at a pinfall, but she had been left in little state to defend herself since then, a third wind proving to be illusive.
So it was that she remained a sitting duck, regardless of how much her country folk willed her to dive out the way, the youthful competitor looking up with glassy eyes just in time to witness her oncoming doom. Iron’s charged across the ring, yelling as she did so, leaping at the last moment and SLAMMING all one hundred and twenty-five pounds of her hardbody physique into the unprotected mass of her opponent, burying her beneath a brutal Avalanche Splash!!
The Girl Called Liberty exhaled almost violently as she was flattened into the unyielding corner beneath the high velocity impact, shivering from head to toe as she struggled to recover. There was no time to do so, not when the bloodied lipped Irma grabbed her by her curls and yanked her forwards, the Manchester Malcontent possessing not even an iota of mercy.
Somehow resisting the urge to simply puddle onto the canvas, the Lady swayed on rubbery knees as she was herded to centre ring, pliable putty in the hands of her foe.
Iron’s, for her own part, look equally bedraggled, exhaling heavily as she had absorbed her own fair share of punishing offence, her dark eyes unblinking as blood thrummed inside her temples. She had lost her temper at least ten minutes earlier, and once that particular beast had been let off the leash, there was no getting back on track, not until the Brit had been sated by her pound of flesh. She had a point to prove, she always had a point to prove, and no-one was going to stop her from doing so.
Tonight was supposed to be a Homecoming for Lady Liberty, instead it would be her Funeral Parade.
Irons collected one arm of her wilting opponent, before shoving her own between the other girls all too willing thighs, grunting as she hupped the other young woman clean up over her shoulders in a crippling Argentine Backbreaker. Liberty immediately released an involuntary cry as her spine was sharply contorted, her golden physique stiffening before capitulating to the pressure of the savage arc, her bright curls bobbing as she shivered in new misery. Iron’s flashed a grin towards the hard camera that displayed far too many teeth before adjusting her posture, turning about in a slow, full circle to ensure those watching knew what was coming.
She felt savage vindication at the FAWNatics mounting despair, these heartland losers forced to embrace the truth, the sooner they accepted it, the sooner she might stop breaking their favourite bytches in hal…
Perhaps it was due to the fatigue that Irma herself had been feeling, perhaps it was the slickness of both of their sweaty frames, perhaps it was the sheer will to survive burning from within Liberty, perhaps it was a combination of all of the above, but when the time came to Iron’s to follow through… a resurgent Lady slipped free from her grasp!
With a shout of defiance and wrenching of her own limbs, Liberty yanked herself away from the Argentine Backbreaker, dropping to the mat and landing unsteadily upon her feet.
The infuriated Irma struggled to hold on, cursing when she was unable to do so, screaming in frustration as she lost control of her cargo all together. The Dark-Haired Destroyer turned herself about…
Only for Liberty to surge right up to vertical with a patriotic shout and delivering a blistering, All American Uppercut!!
All American Uppercut
www.youtube.com/watch?v=wgZPqsYPW3s
Her home crowd erupted as her tensed bicep connected flush beneath the chin of the Manchester Malcontent, snapping her head backwards at a sharp angle and forcing spittle to escape out from between the thug’s lips. Many a foe had been upended by that very blow and they watched in anticipation, Irma stumbling in a full circle, her legs threatening to buckle at any moment, before she came to a blank eyed stop. She blinked, teetered, momentarily reaching blindly towards some unknown destination, before she dropped down HARD!! to one knee.
Her noggin continued to bob left and then right, but she refused to topple further…
If Lady was disappointed that her signature strike had failed to send Iron’s all the way down to the canvas, she had the composure to not show it, instead forcing herself to stand tall as she glowed from head to toe. The Flag attired beauty took a moment to steady her breathing, every inch the heroine the heartland crowd took her to be, moving to hoist the shell-shocked Irma back to her feet so that she could put her to bed, and deliver a dose of much needed humility…
Only for her bright blue eyes to open wide as a furiously vindictive Irons to RAMMED!! home a brutal uppercut of her own, this one DRIVEN!! between the thighs of the stunning blonde.
Irma’s tensed bicep SLAMMED!! up into her opponents unprotected, star spangled seethed sex with crippling force, Lady gasping in heart breaking misery as she genuflected forwards, falling to her knees before her opponent.
Irons snarled in anticipation as she grabbed the penitent girl by her converted, blonde lochs and, with her noggin suitably secured, snapped her own cranium forwards into a savage Headbutt!! Foreheads met with a sickening THUNK!!, the flag attired heroine recoiling as though she had been shot, a second Headbutt quickly following and driving her into a blank eyed stupor. She remained kneeling because Irma allowed it, her blue eyes half lidded and her lips parted open, all sense of defiance having flown the coop.
Far from satisfied, Irons pushed herself back up to vertical and dragged the finally, fully depleted blonde with her, no amount of hometown advantage going to resuscitate her now. With a deep throated grunt which was as much a show of dominance as it was a sign of exertion, Irons heaved, hupped and lifted the supine frame of her lithe opponent back up over her shoulders, and back into an Argentine Backbreaker.
As her back spine anew, the Girl Called Liberty was so far gone in her own stupor that she was unable to voice anything more than instinctive whimpers, the soft moans escaping out from her arched throat.
Perhaps it was because she could see the Official approaching to check on her capitulated cargo, perhaps it was because she was far more knackered than she was ever going to admit, or perhaps her patience, fleeting to begin with, had finally worn so thin that she no longer gave a single damn about showing off, whatever the reason, Iron’s wasn’t grandstanding for the camera this time.
Bracing her powerful posture for one last surge of effort, Irma adjusted her grip and, with a growl that was primordial, she bench pressed the flag attired, home town heroine above her head before dropping down swiftly to one knee. Assisted by gravity, she DROPPED!! Lady Liberty a full five feet and counting to land viciously across her posted thigh, the blonde exhaling a silent scream as her spine contorted violently upon the wrong end of the Backbreaker, her whole body spasming before she fell limp.
She lay there, curled about her opponents’ limb, shivering through the aftereffects of the crippling Iron Driver, her golden physique puddling to the canvas the moment a contemptuous Irons shoved her free.
Irma wasted no time, straddling the downed young woman and, after reaching back, collected both of her long, athletic stems to complete a painfully compact, schoolgirl pin, Liberties star spangled toosh pointed straight up towards the rafters.
The Official wasted no time either, dropping straight down to the canvas to count a mournful…
ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!
Iron’s released her opponents’ lifeless limbs, and those glorious stems dropped gamely to the canvas, laying there with but a single twitch to betray further signs of life. Irma both inhaled and exhaled deeply, her blood still well and truly up, but as she stared down into the formally defiant, now vacant features of the beautiful blonde beneath her, opening and closing her own fingers into fists, her toothy grin found its way back onto her own features.
She stood back up, victory filling her with violent vindication, and when the Official thought better than to approach her, she raised her own hand in triumph, grinning with bloody teeth at the FAWNatics as they voiced their displeasure.
“Come on then!!” she shouted, banging on her own chest for vindication, “Say it!! SAY IT!!”
When those in attendance refused to take the bait, she filled in the blanks for them, banging on her own chest three more times for emphasis.
“WORLDS! BEST!! BRIT!!!”
They booed, but she didn’t care, grinning all the more, almost manic in her joy, stamping her right boot hard upon the chest of the already defeated Liberty as though she were planting a flag, earning a fresh groan from the hometown girl.
“WORLDS! BEST!! BRIT!!!” she repeated, relishing the ‘title’ she had ripped from Samantha Sinclair, thrusting her arms out wide as a conqueror, demanding it to be so.
“WORLDS! BEST!! BRIT!!!”
