Post by walkindude on Mar 2, 2019 12:24:37 GMT
Hello Friends,
The road to Heartbroken 2019 runs straight through the Oil Pit! As per usual, here are three matches highlighting the best the oil had to offer over the last month. Enjoy!
~RF
********
KAT ‘THE BRAT’ BRADDOCK:
COSETTE LEBLANC:
Furious Bethany had called an end to her campaign against Grandma Sanders after Vanilla was SO LUCKY at Chills, pulling off the huge upset; Kat jumped at the idea of taking to the plastic of the Oil Pit and eating Kylie’s little French pastry of a former partner and current stablemate, Cosette LeBlanc. But after a half dozen minutes of back and forth grasping, grabbing, twisting and turning, the dark-haired French waterbug was proving to be at least a match for the Brat if not more. Even though the blonde fireplug had youth on her side, Cozy seemed to feel her nicknamesake in the slippery pit, sliding and scooting away from the more powerful grasp of her foe. The former Riviera apartment house wrestler appeared a natural, making a swift transition from penthouse to Pit.
Cosette took control with a baseball slide that upended Braddock, Kat landing on her adorable nose, the light padding of the floor not preventing the landing from smarting. Before Chrissy’s disciple could recover, LeBlanc rose and tucked into a French cannonball, lowering the boom, landing on the base of the blonde’s spine. Kat arched in pain and Cozy immediately looped her cupped hands under the chin of her foe, securing a makeshift Clutch on the arrogant teen, the former Huggable kneeling in her still combustible cannonball atop The Brat’s shoulderblades.
Cosette leeeeanED back, forcing Katrina to inspect the flood lights above the pit. “Ky-LEE. She take eet eazee on you. I weel tie you up een knotz before you queet.”
“EEERRRRHHHH… screw you, hag.” Kat grunted. “I already made Kylie my bytch twice, you really think her pet poodle is going to get one over on--”
LeBlanc shifted her feet to either side of Braddock’s hips and CRAAAAANKED back hard enough to earn another round of pained squealing from the curvaceous blonde. It wasn’t quite an Amara Singh special, at least not until Cozy halved her Chinlock and neatly threaded Kat’s arms over the gleaming planes of her thighs. “You are most certainlee a brat, zere eez no question of zat.” LeBlanc admitted after she’d redoubled her grip on the youngster’s chin. “Which meenz a zimple punizment will not zuffice. No, no, no, a brat zuch az yourzelf reespondz bezt to tacteecz of a more… intimate nature.”
Braddock growled and rocked from side to side when Cozy released the Chinlock and cupped those hulking, albeit defenseless hooters. “Duuuhhh… don’t even think about it, frog face.” Kat huffed. “Not unless you want to breathe your last into OOOOOOWWWWWW BYTCH!”
LeBlanc dug in, squeeeeezed and worked her wrists in snug little circles, the dark-haired battler all smiles as she made Chrissy’s Brat wail for the undeserving masses. “Zeeze do not zcare me, leetle keetin. Indeed zey weel belong to me sooner zan you zink.”
Now Kat, being from off the beach, was no rookie when it came to catty attacks, but she's more often on the giving than receiving and the curvy blonde seemed a little taken aback by LeBlanc's willingness to dig into her gurls with ragged abandon. Braddock bit her lower lip then howled in pain and frustration when Cosette ripped her top off with a two-handed tug and threw it up to Castle at the top of the wall for a souvenir.
"Let's get real," LeBlanc snarled, digging her digits directly into the flesh and squeeeezing, the glistening orbs. "You deserve zees penthouse style." Cozy shreds for another half-dozen seconds, but with no surrender forthcoming, LeBlanc released and clubbed the blonde with a forearm to the temple before dismounting.
Kneeling next to Kat, she shoved the mewling Braddock to her back from the side then got even more personal, going catty down below, sinking her stilettos’ into the triangle of green spandex covering Kat's crotch with her right hand and pressing down on top with her left. "Een some ways, Ky-LEE doesn't know how to deel wizz brats like you."
“Ooooohhhh you nasty old bytch!” Braddock spat. “You have NO IDEA what I’m going to do to OOOOFFFFHHHH!”
Cozy abandoned the Crotch Claw just long enough to pound a single hard punch into the blonde’s belly. Then she went right back to those defenseless trunks, Kat’s lycra doing nothing to stop those vindictive French claws. “You talk too much.” LeBlanc sniffed with obvious disdain. “It zeemz to mee zat Chrizzee haz been far too lax in her training, but with a little dizipline…” she took the Brat’s right nipple between thumb and forefinger and gave it a single sharp twist. “You might beecome zomezhing more zan an embarrazzment.”
Defenses split by the brunette’s pillaging pliers, Kat tried to fight both but ultimately freed herself from neither. Struggling against the panic gnawing at the edges of her nerves, she spat, “Enjoy this now you old bytch because everyone knows this is over the second I get you under my NNNGGGHH!”
Cozy relinquished her claws, knotted them into a single fist and THWHUMPED it into the pit of Braddock’s stomach. Still not satisfied, she got to her feet and took to the skies just to crash down across that tenderized tummy with a Standing Splash. With Kat looking more bewildered every second, the French Fatale leaned back on her haunches and swiftly swung a leg over Braddock’s torso. From there she slid backward, carefully nestling the ingénue’s chin into the southern slope of those cheeky blue briefs. Leaning forward, she framed Kat’s cheeks with a crushing Reverse Headscissors, then made the blonde’s predicament all the more agonizing with a resumption of that white-knuckle grip directly between opposing thighs. “Zeez eez over when I zay eet eez over.” Cozy taunted. “Zo do not expect ze referee to zave you with a mere ring of ze bell.”
Face growing rosier by the second from the vise-like Scissors, Kat howled in anguish with another expertly placed clench of palm and fingers into her privates. Presuming anything French would be a pushover had left her embarrassed and agonized in the oil, put on display like she swore she'd never be again since a couple early, humbling lessons on Venice Beach. But the blonde refused to capitulate just yet. With LeBlanc's hands very much occupied, Kat's able to roll both grapplers to the right, Braddock ending on top.
It didn't lessen the burning from below or the pounding pulsating above, but it's enough to cause some concern in the smaller Frenchwoman. She removed her talons and flattened her palms against the Pit floor to rock herself topside. With relief washing over her torso, Braddock's no longer frozen below and The Brat lifted a knee into the crown of the brunette's skull. The blast unlocked Cozy's Scissors as if it's on a coil and Kat slid her head from between the glistening, ivory limbs. Slipping her arms inside the loosened legs of Cozy, Kat spread Huggable's stems enough to deliver an elbow point to the Froggie's undercarriage, LeBlanc's frame tightening from the shockwave of pain emanating from her nethers, Cosette biting her lower lip to hide the agony.
“Oh yeah, didn’t like that much, did you twiggy?” Braddock sneered as she felt the shudder pass through LeBlanc’s petite bod. “Then you probably won’t appreciate this either!” Cupping her palms over Cozy’s inner thighs, the Brat stretched those stems as wide as she could before pushing up and snapping down, the pneumatic blonde THWHUMPING her forehead into the older woman’s crotch.
“AAAAAAHHHH YOU DEEZGUZTEENG PEEG!” LeBlanc shrieked, no amount of lip-biting able to hide her anguish following the massive Headbutt. The trunk-shocked veteran tried to twist and squirm out from underneath, but Kat straightened up and slid backward until the medicine ball curve of her backside was resting snug on the hollow of LeBlanc’s throat.
“Whew, you really made me earn that one.” Kat sighed as she smoothed her hair back behind her ears. “Don’t think I’ve ever worked so hard to squash a frog before now.”
“Zcrew you!” Cosette growled. “You ‘ave cruzhed nozeeng, leazt of all me NOOOOOO OOOOOWWW ZTAAAAAAAP!”
Kat peeled the brunette’s blue cups aside just so she could repay the earlier pincer with vile, eye-watering interest. “What, you didn’t think I was going to let you get away with that shit, did you?” Braddock teased as she tweased. “Hell no, hag! You want these back, you’re gonna have to beg and beg loud!”
LeBlanc writhed like Kat's applied a cattle prod rather than a precisely placed thumb and forefinger, tugging Cozy's nipple out from the pert curve of her bared breast. The oil and sweat-soaked blonde added a second front, applying the same pincer movement to Cozy's companion. ""AHHH GAWWWD" the Frenchwoman wailed, at least until Kat, growing in confidence, slid her rear end over LeBlanc's lips, forcefeeding the frog some raw, oily California Roll. Cosette shook her head as much as she's able, but her concentration was torn as her bosom by the revenge-minded rookie.
"You and your gaggle of hags are learning about me tonight. Finish the job or I'll finish it for ya." Kat rose off her wriggling throne and dropped barely covered butt like a hammer blow into the rising head of LeBlanc, THUMPING Cozy's braincase then sandwiching it into the slippery plastic of the Pit floor, her entire set of flawless features now buried under blonde booty. Kat walked her right index and middle fingers from Cosette's ravaged rack down glistening midriff toward her foe's royal blue bikini bottoms.
"Time to show with age comes wisdom, Huggable."
The more salacious element among the FAWNatics called for Kat to rev the engine on a hijacked Portia 911 and for a moment the Brat seemed to consider the idea. Then she shook her head ‘no’ and scoffed, “I don’t think so, losers.” So rather than apply a claw she hooked LeBlanc behind the knees and bundled those oil-sheened stems up under her armpits for a nigh inescapable Matchbook… or not?
Oh, Braddock certainly earned a few more bratty stripes by spanking out a little nonsense beat on Cozy’s pert glutes, but rather than keep the Frenchwoman’s legs secured she slipped ‘em loose one at a time and cupped her hands against LeBlanc’s inner thighs just above the knee. Digging in enough to feel the H&B battler groan against her trunks, Kat murmured, “Tell Kylie I hope she hasn’t forgotten about me… I sure as hell haven’t forgotten about her.”
Cosette grumbled something that might’ve been a denial or curse, but in truth it didn’t matter because Braddock PUSHED down as hard as she could, thus splitting the smaller brunette’s stems in an agonizing upside down Wishbone!
“MMMMMPPPPPHHHH AAAAWWW GAAAAAAAAAWWHHHH!” LeBlanc wailed into her tormentor’s smothering buns. “ZTAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHP!”
“I’m sorry, what was that?” Kat flashed a hateful grin as she continued to apply pressure to that ever-widening set of splits. “I… I can’t understand you!” Braddock taunted as Cozy continued to sob and shudder. “I don’t speak quitter bytch, you’ll have to tap it out for--”
Cosette did just that, slapping out her submission on the floor of the Pit half a dozen times before adding a few sets to Braddock’s buns for good measure. The ref saw it and called for the bell, but Kat didn’t get up even once she’d been announced the victrix. Instead she tucked Cozy’s thighs back under her arms to secure the Matchbook tighter than ever.
“See that?” she swatted LeBlanc’s hapless glutes for emphasis. “Just another defenseless relic ready to be put out to pasture! Any of you other hags looking to get real old, real fast? Just step to me here, in the ring or on the beach and I’ll expose you for the whole world to see!” On that ominous note she planted a single taunting ‘this is mine!’ kiss on Cozy’s buns, then doubled down on the Matchbook until long after the camera faded to black.
*********
ELIZABETH CROMWELL:
LADY LYDIA LETHBRIDGE:
T’was an all English Special in the Oil Pit for FAWNatics in attendance at tonight’s show in Savannah GA wherein two Brit Brats (albeit not THEE Brit Brats) collided for the first time. On one side was Lady Lydia Lethbridge, recently returned to action following the culmination of her war of attrition with Kanako Akiyama and on the other was Elizabeth Cromwell who was seeking to course correct after coming up short against Estrina Starfire. Of course the perpetually pissed Young Lioness DID have a recent Oil Pit victory to her credit and she was hoping to build on that momentum to earn a lightweight championship opportunity. To her credit she’d started the battle with all her usual ferocity, but dear Lizzie was more used to battling against the forces of sweetness & light and was surprised (read: infuriated) when Lady Lydia answered her salvos with savage interest!
Control had passed between the two seemingly dozens of times in the first fifteen minutes of the contest, now it had slowed to the painful ’you hurt me, I hurt you’ stage with both ladies on their knees smudged up against the slick wall of the Pit. Cromwell and Lethbridge each had a handful of her opponent’s hair, all the better to THUMP her noggin into the Pit wall while occasionally PWAAAKING a cranky punch into opposing midsection.
“You low-class chav.” Lady Lydia sneered after bouncing Cromwell’s head once again. “Haven’t you learned by now that you’re no match for NGH! NGH! NGH!”
Lizzie bounced the brunette’s head like a basketball, then doubled down on the hair-hold in an attempt to liberate great patches of Lethbridge’s scalp. “Wuuuhh… watch your mouth, little girl.” Cromwell growled. “Otherwise I’ll finish the job that lunatic started.”
Just the mention of Kanako sent a furious charge of energy through her Ladyship. She ignored Elizabeth's grip as best she could and latched onto Cromwell's auburn locks with both hands, BANGING her foe's left temple into the wall, one, two, three times in a row. With Lizzie dizzied, Lydia shook her tresses free from the Boarding School Princess and rose unsteadily to her feet, nearly falling on the slippery Pit floor.
The high-born battler lifted a knee, CRACKING it into Cromwell's chin, snapping the head back of the self-proclaimed (and many times proven wrong) Best Brit Ever. Lizzie flopped to her back, managing to prop on her elbows and forearms, looking both startled and dazed. She tried to butt scoot her way out of trouble but Her Ladyship pressed Lizzie tight to the wall courtesy a raised foot to her foe's throat. A redfaced Cromwell wrapped both palms around the ankle, trying to remove the choking appendage. "Usually, I try to keep things on a more technical level," Her Ladyship informs through heavy breaths. "But YOU deserve no better."
Gripping the top of the Pit wall with both hands, Lethbridge bounced and pushed with her encroaching foot, just working her ankle back and forth to better gouge and grind at the delicate expanse of Cromwell’s neck. Not that Lizzie took this debasement in stride, mind you. She bucked and twisted, lashing out with her own feet in an effort to strike Lydia’s plant leg and when that didn’t work she raaaaaaaaaaaaked her nails up and down the gleaming expanse of the other Englishwoman’s shin.
Her Ladyship snarled in distaste, reached down with one hand and swiped nails across Lizzie’s eyes before hooking two fingers in her nostrils for a bout of vicious tugging. “Is this what you want, piggie?” she demanded. “Perhaps if you squealed for me I’d be inclined to show you the tiniest bit of merERRRRRRRHHHH!”
Cromwell wedged her thumbs against the sole of Lethbridge’s foot and dug in as hard as she could. Lydia jolted like a live wire, the curvy little battler forced to double down on her grip on the top of the wall to keep from collapsing to her knees. In this she was successful, unfortunately it meant she rather preoccupied when Lizzie reached up and jammed a claw between her thighs! “We’ll see who squeals, you pale, prissy imitation!” Cromwell barked as she mined for a sobbing submission in the depths of Lethbridge’s briefs.
Showing deference to the location of Cromwell's claw much more than the Scouser's low brow, Lydia quickly released her grip on the upper rim of the wall. Lizzie took the opportunity to shove Lethbridge forward, her fellow Brit plopping to a squishy seat on the coated blue plastic. Unfortunately for Lady Lydia, the Liverpudlian still had her talons in Lydia's privates, Elizabeth's fingers turning white with the pressure applied. Lethbridge howled in pain, now trying to back her way out but Cromwell was determined to keep the brunette a hand puppet. Cromwell got her squeals for Lady Lydia and then some, Lydia tearing at her own dark locks in a vain effort to spread the pain.
"Just say the magic words, luv. And you can go cry to Mommy!" Cromwell assured.
On her back, Lydia Scissored the arm of the encroaching digits and tried to pull the talons free, threatening to put Cromwell in danger of a submission. "My fingers are gonna chew right through that spandex beforAHHH!"
Cromwell was proved wrong as Lydia wrenched the nails from their task and she began bending Lizzie's wrist back at a dangerous angle. "Sing for me, commoner!" Lydia grunted through clenched teeth, her nethers still burning.
“Never.” Lizzie hissed, her delicate features twisted into a grimace of pain. With one arm effectively caught by the brunette she couldn’t simply scramble to safety so Cromwell actually stormed into the breach, a move that forced Lydia onto her back. This didn’t do a damned thing for the Scissors or the burning twinge in her wrist (which was growing more unpleasant by the second), what it did was grant the former Lightweight Champion a much better vantage from which to rain down Hammer Punches on her Ladyship’s thighs and tummy.
“Unhand me this instant you miserable trolloPPAAAAARRRRHH!”
Not about to cede to any of her opponent’s demands, Lethbridge shifted from the wrist-wrench to a two-handed grip on Cromwell’s fingers. For a moment it looked like she was attempting to explain the concept of ‘live long and prosper’, then the pitch of Lizzie’s shrieks indicated the brunette had the exact opposite on her mind. “That’s EXACTLY what I’m trying to do, idiot.” she said of the miniature wishbone. “It’s what I WILL do if you don’t bray your surrender this very instanEERRRRRRRRRHHHHH!”
Lizzie leaned into those upturned haunches, braced her free hand against the gulping expanse of Lydia’s tummy, then jabbed her thumb deep into the brunette’s navel. “You cannot imagine how far I’ll go to humble you.” she growled. “So I hope, I PRAY that you’ll hang on long enough for me to show you.”
Both Brits clenched their teeth in pain, trying to outlast the other and it's Her Ladyship blinking first. She released her Scissors and threw Cromwell's trapped arm away. Her folded legs, now available for other chores, spring outward, shoving Lizzie off her, Cromwell grunting as her back hit the Pit wall. She slid down to a seat, lithe, ivory-skinned legs extended in front of her. Lydia rose to vertical and limped several feet back, working at her trunks, trying to soothe the throbbing from her crotch. She did enough to fashion a gallop of sorts toward Elizabeth.
Apparently a football fan, she lined up a kick toward the tip of the BSP's shiny freckled nose, but Cromwell was able to drop to her left shoulder. Lethbridge SLAMMED her right instep into the lightly padded edifice. It's not an enormous impact, but it, combined with her aching privates and the slippery floor, left Lydia's retreat a sliding, limping mess, both hands buried below, Lethbridge cursing, not so much under her breath. With her back turned to Cromwell, Her Ladyship presented an inviting target and Cromwell pushed up and stalked Lydia from behind, arms extended, ready to snatch the matted oily strands of her foe. As Cromwell reached, Lethbridge pivoted into a side kick directed at the tummy of the BSP but Lizzie caught the effort, keeping Lydia hopping on the remaining planted foot. One hand remained between her thighs, the other Lydia raised plaintively.
Elizabeth offered a smile that was bright, almost friendly. “What’s that? Would you have me return you to the floor, where you belong?”
Lethbridge scowled, hunched forward over her straining leg and swiped at Cromwell’s nose only to come up short by half an inch. “If I am to touch the floor it will be with your mewling face providing a suitable cushOOOOOOOWWWWWWW!”
The Young Lioness stepped back and gave her foe’s captured ankle a single sharp yank. Her already tenuous balance destroyed by the tactic, Lady Lydia dropped into a full, albeit incredibly awkward split that had the FAWNatics groaning in cringing sympathy. Lizzie however felt no such twinge, indeed she was all smiles as she circled around behind the groaning, splay-legged aristocrat. “You are a vicious little monster, no question of that.” Cromwell’s tone might have held the slightest trace of admiration. “But you are still in my way and that means you are doomed to the most spectacular of failures.”
“Duuuuuhhh… don’t speak to me of failures when you still stink of Starfire’s armAAARRRRRRRRHHHHHHHH!”
Lizzie sank her claws into the other Englishwoman’s hunched shoulders and leaned forward so she could put every bit of her weight behind the claw. “WATCH YOUR MOUTH!” she roared. “Never speak that name in my presence if you value what little remains of your career!” To emphasize the point she pulled her left hand away from Lethbridge’s shoulder and slipped three fingers into the side of her mouth for a nasty fishhook.
Giving Her Ladyship a lopsided smile, Elizabeth moved her other hand from Lethbridge's shoulder to the back of her head and pressed forward and down, stuffing Lydia's face in the oily surface just in front of her stretched groin muscles. Cromwell quickly slid her legs over those of her fellow Englishwoman then folding them under the split versions of Lydia's, widening them all the more, testing the aristocrat's snapping point. Elizabeth released her fish hook and sent both sets of fingers into Lydia's dark locks. She lifted and hammered Lethbridge's forehead into the Pit floor a half dozen times then snaked her arms around Lydia's noggin, pressing them tight into her foe's carotid with a Sleeper grip. Lizzie shook Lydia's head for good measure, scrambling her gray matter while stretching the Lady's lower limbs to damn near 180 degrees.
"I believe you have something to say to the Best Brit Ever, don't you dear?"
“I’m… I’m not in the habit of talking to myself you byHHUUURRRRRGGGHHH!”
Lethbridge’s retort devolved into a guttural moan as Cromwell yoked up on that deep-set Sleeper.
“The time for games has passed, pretender.” Lizzie thrust her hips into the brunette’s bunched buttocks to make sure Lethbridge understood the severity of her situation. “Admit your failure or I’ll split you in ha--”
“PISS OFF!” Lydia shouted / sobbed, the contorted Englishwoman scrabbling for purchase with one hand while the other reached blindly for Cromwell’s hair. “I’ll never surrender to the likes of youOOOOOHHHHHH STAAAAAAAAAHHHHHP!”
The Young Lioness stretched those defenseless legs a little wider, wrenched the Sleeper a little harder and just like that her Ladyship was swatting the floor with both hands. “I SUBMIT! I SUBMIT YOU NASTY BYTCH, NOW LET ME GOOOOOOOO!”
Lizzie shook her head ‘no’ refusing the abandon her hooks until she’d been announced the victrix and the bell sounded almost half a dozen times. Prim and proper once more now that the battle was won, she stretched Lethbridge out flat on her face, then caught a Half Nelson and rolled her onto her back. From there it was a quick scoot north to settle the oily expanse of her briefs down tight against the trembling terrain of her Ladyship’s mouth and nose.
Hands on her knees, Cromwell locked eyes with the defeated brunette and sighed, “I’m sure there are some foolhardy slatterns in that locker room who would contest my claim as Best Brit Ever, but you, my dear Lydia… you will stay silent on the topic, if you know what is good for you. Do I make myself clear?”
Lethbridge’s brow scrunched like she meant to offer sass, so Elizabeth brought her thighs together with a wet ‘slap’. Biting her bottom lip in a coy little smile, Lizzie bobbled in place, letting the smother reduce her opposition to little more than slumbering, slobbering furniture.
“This will be my new empire.” Cromwell murmured to no one in particular. “And I will crush all who dare oppose my ascendancy.”
********
Tonight’s main event figured to be an intriguing one. Nyssa Bloodwind, having used the Pit to reignite her career, certainly wanted to keep the positive momentum rolling or, in this case, sliding through the oil. She’d done that and more in controlling if not dominating the first several minutes of the battle, keeping her foe pinned beneath her at most times.
NYSSA BLOODWIND:
Watching the display, it could be argued the Nubile Navajo simply had a knack for the slippery confines, never seeming to put a foot on the oily floor wrong and this Pit performance had been no different.
SOLEDAD SANCHEZ:
Her foe, the former La Hurrican, one Soledad Sanchez, a former thorn in the heel and just as accurately ass of Cherry Bomb had fallen on hard FAWN times after losing a war with Bunny Cooper.
Granted the opportunity to return to her native Mexico, Soledad spent 2018 trekking south of the border far and wide and earning high marks, both in terms of results and oddly, how cleanly they’d been garnered.
Now, as Sanchez started to take control of the Pit Proceedings against Nyssa, the crowd at a loss how Bloodwind was being so easily swept off her feet and kept there through Sanchez’s control of her limbs and balance, it’s shown La Hurrican may no longer be a cruel, evil wind.
As Soledad secured a Full Nelson behind the seated Nyssa, wrapping her slender, tawny legs around Bloodwind’s midriff to add a tightening Scissors, again fairly commanding the field of battle, it seemed she might indeed have found a truer self that required competition and yes victory, but not underhanded mischief to achieve it.
Ankles crossed tight, Soledad stretched her legs and squeeeeeeeeeeeeeezed hard enough to make Nyssa voice a groan that, thanks to the Full Nelson, emerged dangerously close to the northern slope of her own cleavage. “Give it up, Nyssa.” Sanchez demanded after her opponent trailed off into pained silence. “There’s no rope break that’ll get you out of this.” Soledad used the Nelson to bobble Bloodwind’s noggin to make sure the Arizonan knew the dangers of her predicament.
Waggling a finger to make sure Nick Castle knew she wasn’t about to cede the Pit to anyone, Nyssa opened and closed her hands for several seconds to keep the blood flowing. “There’s always a way out in this place, Soledad.” the gleaming brunette muttered. “You’ll learn that soon NNNNNNGGGGHHHH!”
Sanchez transitioned to a Half Nelson, reached across Bloodwind’s chest with her free (left) hand, grabbed hold of the other woman’s right wrist and drew it snug across her throat in a Cobra Clutch! Scissors still sank in deep, the limber bendyback stretched out on one side and poured even more power into the combination of holds. “I already showed you the only way out.” she murmured. “You want to find it? All you have to do is tap the floor. Or tell Nick you’ve had enouOOOFFFFFHHHH!”
The new arrangement allowed Nyssa to jab an elbow into the other brunette’s flank, but her positioning was far from ideal and she didn’t get nearly the power she was hoping for. Still, it was a crack in Soledad’s otherwise impenetrable defenses, so Nyssa leaned in as best she could, just grrrrrrrrinding that bony dagger against Soledad’s floating ribs. “We’ll see who taps, honey.”
Sanchez gritted her way through the increasingly annoying pain in her side. She clamped on tighter with her Clutch, hoping to anesthetize the Navajo warrior. Nyssa started to butt scoot both of them forward, Bloodwind reaching the Pit wall. She pushed her feet against the vertical edifice. Showing an innate sense of the structure, she thrust herself into a backward somersault that broke Nyssa out of Soledad's grip. She tumbled over a shoulder of Sanchez and ended up straddling the back of the Monterrey native, quickly wrapping her foe in a Crossface grip and RIPPING Soledad's head back and to the right.
"You were saying something about a submission," Nyssa purred in the Mexican's ear. "Some of these people may buy you finding a higher calling; me, the sound of you tapping will work either way." Sanchez grunted in pain as Bloodwind reeeefed on her foe's neck and back. But Soledad groaned out a 'no' when she's asked to surrender. Sanchez placed her palms flat on the blue plastic, pushing up despite the weight on her back. But a slight rise from Nyssa and a thrust of her pelvis into Soledad's spine sent her flat to the canvas once more. "Wrong idea, chica," Nyssa chided. "I've got Lenore in my sights and you're not changing that."
Soledad didn’t much enjoy the role reversal, though she kept her wits about her as she scrabbled and pulled at Bloodwind’s stern S-grip. “You’re gonna regret looking beyond me.” she grunted. “Even more so when I go on to dethrone the RaveNNNNNNGGHHH!”
Nyssa drove her hip into the small of Sanchez’s back once more, then shifted her perch so she was effectively sidled in snug on the other brunette’s left side with her legs stretched directly in front of straining rival. “I said Lenore’s in my sights.” Bloodwind corrected. “Never said a damned thing about overlooking you. Though now I bet you wish I had, don‘t you?” She jostled her hands back and forth while continuing to crank on the simple hold.
Noting the pain on Soledad’s face (not to mention the increasingly sharp curve of her neck and upper back) Nick Castle hurried around to get closer to the action and his tangled charges. “What do you say, Soledad? Need me to call for the bell?”
“NO!” Sanchez replied at once. “I didn’t fight my way back just to loOOOOOOOHHHHH!”
Nyssa planted her heels and pulled that much harder. “No one steps into the Pit to lose, sweetie. That’s why it stings so much when you doWHOOOOAAAHH!”
Soledad cinched her left arm around the Arizonan’s left thigh and used it to roll the both of ‘em backward into a tawdry looking cradle that pointed Bloodwind’s bum at the lights. It would’ve been good for a cover in less oily circumstances, but since pins didn’t amount to anything in the Pit Soledad settled for elbow-centric vengeance in the form of a flurry rained down directly atop her opponent’s forehead.
After a half dozen BANG into Nyssa's braincase, Sanchez relented, allowing the Navajo to spill to her back, dark eyes glassy. Soledad didn’t hesitate for an instant, rising to her feet next to the splayed Native American. It seemed damn near impossible considering the slippery surface upon which the Mexican stood and the flight wasn’t as graceful as most from the luchadora, but Soledad's able to back-flip through a Standing Moonsault and CRUSHED the shiny midriff of Bloodwind. Nyssa grunted, dark eyes bulging as she jackknifed under Sanchez. Soledad shoved the breathless Bloodwind to her chest, capturing Nyssa's left arm as she does, folding it into a Hammerlock. Sanchez somersaulted forward, planting in a bridge above the Native American's head, arm still in her possession, but with exponentially more torque in her Chickenwing. Nyssa howled in anguish as Soledad struggles to keep her bridge from sliding down. "QUIT!" the Mexican demanded over Nyssa's yelps, her soles slipping over the greasy Pit floor. "QUIT!"
“NO!” Bloodwind shouted at the top of her lungs. “NO, I DON’T GIVEERRRRRHHHH AAAAAAAAAHHHH SHYT!”
Sanchez shot her hips toward the rafters half a dozen times, each thrust and jounce increasing the vile torque on her opponent’s pinioned arm. As concerned for the Nubile Navajo’s winning streak as they’d ever been, the sold out crowd sent up a ‘PLEASE DON’T TAP!’ chant that seemed to motivate Soledad as much as Nyssa. Bracing her free hand against the floor of the Pit, Nyssa pushed up, stretched her legs out full length and began moving them like clock hands, the tenacious brunette hoping to work herself into a position that would alleviate the worst of the--
Soledad rolled out of the bridge without releasing her Hammerlock. Careful to keep the trapped limb glued between the Arizonan’s shoulders, she turned to the side and planted a knee on her opponent’s wrist. The increased weight didn’t sit well with Nyssa, who kicked her legs in a surprisingly unrestrained show of ‘stop hurting me!’ frustration. Alas, Soledad did no such thing. Indeed she managed to corral the former Lightweight Champion’s ankles, then fold them into a squashed ‘X’ and wedge ‘em against that defenseless backside. With one hand controlling Bloodwind’s ankles and one knee stymieing that trapped arm, Soledad flashed the camera a wink just before she cupped her free hand under Nyssa’s chin. Just like that she rolled onto her back and pulled the smaller grappler up onto her knees, Bloodwind’s spine wrenched into an agonizing arch by Soledad’s take on none other than London’s Bridge.
“YOU’RE FINISHED, BLOODWIND!” she roared. “TAP OUT!”
No verbal response from the Navajo except pained whimpers. The precise use of Shea's bridge wasn’t lost on the fans and they popped like crazy for Soledad, her use of the maneuver instantly convincing the more naive in the crowd she MUST have gone good. Nyssa shook her head as much as she could, trying to convince herself she couldn’t give in. Her arms flailed like reeds in the wind as the crowd seemed to understand she's had it. Sanchez's arms and legs have to be cramping after a dozen seconds of holding Bloodwind aloft but she refused to let Nyssa free. The women mewled for very different reasons, both trying to hold on in their own way.
The Native American beauty put her last efforts into wriggling free and the oil covering her tawny skin allowed Nyssa to slip into some slack, Sanchez giving way and pushing her legs open to send Bloodwind dropping to the canvas on her chest. Soledad, on her back, shook out the ache in her limbs, the crowd giving her a rousing ovation for her effort and her homage. Soledad waved to the FAWNatics then threw the raised arm to the Pit floor to roll to her chest and start to push up.
But underestimating the recovery time of the Native bendyback proved costly as Nyssa dove atop the back of the Mexican, corralling both arms. Sanchez struggled frantically, knowing what Nyssa had in mind, but she's unable to break free before the Navajo flips forward and bridges into the Dineh Deathlock, doubling up on Soledad's submission attempt. Nyssa's arched up on her toes, digging them into the Pit floor as Soledad squealed in anguish, her arms feeling like they're about to be ripped out at the sockets.
“It’s over, Soledad.” Bloodwind growled in a tone that suggested she was trying to convince both of them. “So tap out before you pass out.”
Stretched flat against the oily floor, Sanchez closed her eyes tight so she wouldn’t have to see the flashes from the Gladiatrix photographer’s camera. “Yuuuuhhh…. you’re the one that’s about to pass out, girl.” she grunted. “You’re gonna quit the next time I get my hooks in yoOOOOHHH STAAAAAAAAHHHHP!”
Now it was Nyssa’s turn to bounce like a madwoman, the exhausted battler throwing everything she had left into breaking Soledad’s fighting spir-- Sanchez twisted into the pressure in time with Bloodwind’s latest yank and managed to roll onto her right hip. Unfortunately she wasn’t able to free her arms from the former champion’s grip, but enduring a bog standard Double Chickenwing was infinitely easier than the Dineh Deathlock.
Frustrated by her adversary’s resilience, Nyssa pressed close to Soledad’s back and gouged into the side of her neck with the point of her chin. “Still not free, sweetie. These arms are mine--” The returning exotique powered to one knee, then rose to her full height accompanied by an isolated but energetic group of FAWNatics calling ‘SOL-EH-DAD!’
“Take my arms if you can, Nyssa.” Sanchez huffed. “But the Oil Pit belongs to me WHOONNNGGHHH!”
Nyssa dropped her hips and bridged back as hard as she could, the Nubile Navajo just TWHUMPING Soledad down on the back of her head and shoulders with a Tiger Suplex! The bone-jarring maneuver folded Soledad in half but Bloodwind didn’t hold the bridge, rather she barreled the other brunette back onto her belly and somersaulted over into a third bridge to reapply the Dineh Deathlock more forcibly than ever!
Soledad’s new cheering section was completely overwhelmed by a cacophonous wave of ‘TAP!’ chants. Soledad sobbed, shook her head ‘no’ and resisted as best she could, but with her arms reduced to helpless flailing and Nyssa bucking like she meant to dislocate her shoulders, it wasn’t very long before the brunette moaned, “I give! I give! Just stop, Nyssa. Just stop.”
Bloodwind kept the hold on for a few extra seconds to put something in the back of Soledad's mine if they ever met again, then released her locking arms, letting Sanchez sag into the oily floor, spitting out some of the viscous goop from between her lips. An exhausted Nyssa laid across the back of the Mexican's head and shoulders, keeping her foe pressed into the floor as she caught some deep breaths. Slowly, the Navajo warrior spun to her haunches just above Soledad's head.
But instead of twisting Sanchez onto her back and taking the usual oily perch, Nyssa offered Soledad a hand, appreciating the returnee keeping things above board and above waist. Sanchez glanced up at the offer and accepted, locking her palm with Bloodwind's. Nyssa tugged Soledad up to her knees, both women huffing in oxygen by the lungful. With the crowd roaring their approval at the display of both fighting and sportsmanship, the women hug it out from their knees.
Slowly, they used each other to rise. They turned to go shoulder to shoulder and Soledad raises Nyssa's arm high to the delight of the FAWNatics.
"Take out the Raven for all of us," Soledad chirped. "She deserves to be plucked clean."
"I will," Nyssa responds, grinning. "Don't you doubt it for a second."
The road to Heartbroken 2019 runs straight through the Oil Pit! As per usual, here are three matches highlighting the best the oil had to offer over the last month. Enjoy!
~RF
********
KAT ‘THE BRAT’ BRADDOCK:
COSETTE LEBLANC:
Furious Bethany had called an end to her campaign against Grandma Sanders after Vanilla was SO LUCKY at Chills, pulling off the huge upset; Kat jumped at the idea of taking to the plastic of the Oil Pit and eating Kylie’s little French pastry of a former partner and current stablemate, Cosette LeBlanc. But after a half dozen minutes of back and forth grasping, grabbing, twisting and turning, the dark-haired French waterbug was proving to be at least a match for the Brat if not more. Even though the blonde fireplug had youth on her side, Cozy seemed to feel her nicknamesake in the slippery pit, sliding and scooting away from the more powerful grasp of her foe. The former Riviera apartment house wrestler appeared a natural, making a swift transition from penthouse to Pit.
Cosette took control with a baseball slide that upended Braddock, Kat landing on her adorable nose, the light padding of the floor not preventing the landing from smarting. Before Chrissy’s disciple could recover, LeBlanc rose and tucked into a French cannonball, lowering the boom, landing on the base of the blonde’s spine. Kat arched in pain and Cozy immediately looped her cupped hands under the chin of her foe, securing a makeshift Clutch on the arrogant teen, the former Huggable kneeling in her still combustible cannonball atop The Brat’s shoulderblades.
Cosette leeeeanED back, forcing Katrina to inspect the flood lights above the pit. “Ky-LEE. She take eet eazee on you. I weel tie you up een knotz before you queet.”
“EEERRRRHHHH… screw you, hag.” Kat grunted. “I already made Kylie my bytch twice, you really think her pet poodle is going to get one over on--”
LeBlanc shifted her feet to either side of Braddock’s hips and CRAAAAANKED back hard enough to earn another round of pained squealing from the curvaceous blonde. It wasn’t quite an Amara Singh special, at least not until Cozy halved her Chinlock and neatly threaded Kat’s arms over the gleaming planes of her thighs. “You are most certainlee a brat, zere eez no question of zat.” LeBlanc admitted after she’d redoubled her grip on the youngster’s chin. “Which meenz a zimple punizment will not zuffice. No, no, no, a brat zuch az yourzelf reespondz bezt to tacteecz of a more… intimate nature.”
Braddock growled and rocked from side to side when Cozy released the Chinlock and cupped those hulking, albeit defenseless hooters. “Duuuhhh… don’t even think about it, frog face.” Kat huffed. “Not unless you want to breathe your last into OOOOOOWWWWWW BYTCH!”
LeBlanc dug in, squeeeeezed and worked her wrists in snug little circles, the dark-haired battler all smiles as she made Chrissy’s Brat wail for the undeserving masses. “Zeeze do not zcare me, leetle keetin. Indeed zey weel belong to me sooner zan you zink.”
Now Kat, being from off the beach, was no rookie when it came to catty attacks, but she's more often on the giving than receiving and the curvy blonde seemed a little taken aback by LeBlanc's willingness to dig into her gurls with ragged abandon. Braddock bit her lower lip then howled in pain and frustration when Cosette ripped her top off with a two-handed tug and threw it up to Castle at the top of the wall for a souvenir.
"Let's get real," LeBlanc snarled, digging her digits directly into the flesh and squeeeezing, the glistening orbs. "You deserve zees penthouse style." Cozy shreds for another half-dozen seconds, but with no surrender forthcoming, LeBlanc released and clubbed the blonde with a forearm to the temple before dismounting.
Kneeling next to Kat, she shoved the mewling Braddock to her back from the side then got even more personal, going catty down below, sinking her stilettos’ into the triangle of green spandex covering Kat's crotch with her right hand and pressing down on top with her left. "Een some ways, Ky-LEE doesn't know how to deel wizz brats like you."
“Ooooohhhh you nasty old bytch!” Braddock spat. “You have NO IDEA what I’m going to do to OOOOFFFFHHHH!”
Cozy abandoned the Crotch Claw just long enough to pound a single hard punch into the blonde’s belly. Then she went right back to those defenseless trunks, Kat’s lycra doing nothing to stop those vindictive French claws. “You talk too much.” LeBlanc sniffed with obvious disdain. “It zeemz to mee zat Chrizzee haz been far too lax in her training, but with a little dizipline…” she took the Brat’s right nipple between thumb and forefinger and gave it a single sharp twist. “You might beecome zomezhing more zan an embarrazzment.”
Defenses split by the brunette’s pillaging pliers, Kat tried to fight both but ultimately freed herself from neither. Struggling against the panic gnawing at the edges of her nerves, she spat, “Enjoy this now you old bytch because everyone knows this is over the second I get you under my NNNGGGHH!”
Cozy relinquished her claws, knotted them into a single fist and THWHUMPED it into the pit of Braddock’s stomach. Still not satisfied, she got to her feet and took to the skies just to crash down across that tenderized tummy with a Standing Splash. With Kat looking more bewildered every second, the French Fatale leaned back on her haunches and swiftly swung a leg over Braddock’s torso. From there she slid backward, carefully nestling the ingénue’s chin into the southern slope of those cheeky blue briefs. Leaning forward, she framed Kat’s cheeks with a crushing Reverse Headscissors, then made the blonde’s predicament all the more agonizing with a resumption of that white-knuckle grip directly between opposing thighs. “Zeez eez over when I zay eet eez over.” Cozy taunted. “Zo do not expect ze referee to zave you with a mere ring of ze bell.”
Face growing rosier by the second from the vise-like Scissors, Kat howled in anguish with another expertly placed clench of palm and fingers into her privates. Presuming anything French would be a pushover had left her embarrassed and agonized in the oil, put on display like she swore she'd never be again since a couple early, humbling lessons on Venice Beach. But the blonde refused to capitulate just yet. With LeBlanc's hands very much occupied, Kat's able to roll both grapplers to the right, Braddock ending on top.
It didn't lessen the burning from below or the pounding pulsating above, but it's enough to cause some concern in the smaller Frenchwoman. She removed her talons and flattened her palms against the Pit floor to rock herself topside. With relief washing over her torso, Braddock's no longer frozen below and The Brat lifted a knee into the crown of the brunette's skull. The blast unlocked Cozy's Scissors as if it's on a coil and Kat slid her head from between the glistening, ivory limbs. Slipping her arms inside the loosened legs of Cozy, Kat spread Huggable's stems enough to deliver an elbow point to the Froggie's undercarriage, LeBlanc's frame tightening from the shockwave of pain emanating from her nethers, Cosette biting her lower lip to hide the agony.
“Oh yeah, didn’t like that much, did you twiggy?” Braddock sneered as she felt the shudder pass through LeBlanc’s petite bod. “Then you probably won’t appreciate this either!” Cupping her palms over Cozy’s inner thighs, the Brat stretched those stems as wide as she could before pushing up and snapping down, the pneumatic blonde THWHUMPING her forehead into the older woman’s crotch.
“AAAAAAHHHH YOU DEEZGUZTEENG PEEG!” LeBlanc shrieked, no amount of lip-biting able to hide her anguish following the massive Headbutt. The trunk-shocked veteran tried to twist and squirm out from underneath, but Kat straightened up and slid backward until the medicine ball curve of her backside was resting snug on the hollow of LeBlanc’s throat.
“Whew, you really made me earn that one.” Kat sighed as she smoothed her hair back behind her ears. “Don’t think I’ve ever worked so hard to squash a frog before now.”
“Zcrew you!” Cosette growled. “You ‘ave cruzhed nozeeng, leazt of all me NOOOOOO OOOOOWWW ZTAAAAAAAP!”
Kat peeled the brunette’s blue cups aside just so she could repay the earlier pincer with vile, eye-watering interest. “What, you didn’t think I was going to let you get away with that shit, did you?” Braddock teased as she tweased. “Hell no, hag! You want these back, you’re gonna have to beg and beg loud!”
LeBlanc writhed like Kat's applied a cattle prod rather than a precisely placed thumb and forefinger, tugging Cozy's nipple out from the pert curve of her bared breast. The oil and sweat-soaked blonde added a second front, applying the same pincer movement to Cozy's companion. ""AHHH GAWWWD" the Frenchwoman wailed, at least until Kat, growing in confidence, slid her rear end over LeBlanc's lips, forcefeeding the frog some raw, oily California Roll. Cosette shook her head as much as she's able, but her concentration was torn as her bosom by the revenge-minded rookie.
"You and your gaggle of hags are learning about me tonight. Finish the job or I'll finish it for ya." Kat rose off her wriggling throne and dropped barely covered butt like a hammer blow into the rising head of LeBlanc, THUMPING Cozy's braincase then sandwiching it into the slippery plastic of the Pit floor, her entire set of flawless features now buried under blonde booty. Kat walked her right index and middle fingers from Cosette's ravaged rack down glistening midriff toward her foe's royal blue bikini bottoms.
"Time to show with age comes wisdom, Huggable."
The more salacious element among the FAWNatics called for Kat to rev the engine on a hijacked Portia 911 and for a moment the Brat seemed to consider the idea. Then she shook her head ‘no’ and scoffed, “I don’t think so, losers.” So rather than apply a claw she hooked LeBlanc behind the knees and bundled those oil-sheened stems up under her armpits for a nigh inescapable Matchbook… or not?
Oh, Braddock certainly earned a few more bratty stripes by spanking out a little nonsense beat on Cozy’s pert glutes, but rather than keep the Frenchwoman’s legs secured she slipped ‘em loose one at a time and cupped her hands against LeBlanc’s inner thighs just above the knee. Digging in enough to feel the H&B battler groan against her trunks, Kat murmured, “Tell Kylie I hope she hasn’t forgotten about me… I sure as hell haven’t forgotten about her.”
Cosette grumbled something that might’ve been a denial or curse, but in truth it didn’t matter because Braddock PUSHED down as hard as she could, thus splitting the smaller brunette’s stems in an agonizing upside down Wishbone!
“MMMMMPPPPPHHHH AAAAWWW GAAAAAAAAAWWHHHH!” LeBlanc wailed into her tormentor’s smothering buns. “ZTAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHP!”
“I’m sorry, what was that?” Kat flashed a hateful grin as she continued to apply pressure to that ever-widening set of splits. “I… I can’t understand you!” Braddock taunted as Cozy continued to sob and shudder. “I don’t speak quitter bytch, you’ll have to tap it out for--”
Cosette did just that, slapping out her submission on the floor of the Pit half a dozen times before adding a few sets to Braddock’s buns for good measure. The ref saw it and called for the bell, but Kat didn’t get up even once she’d been announced the victrix. Instead she tucked Cozy’s thighs back under her arms to secure the Matchbook tighter than ever.
“See that?” she swatted LeBlanc’s hapless glutes for emphasis. “Just another defenseless relic ready to be put out to pasture! Any of you other hags looking to get real old, real fast? Just step to me here, in the ring or on the beach and I’ll expose you for the whole world to see!” On that ominous note she planted a single taunting ‘this is mine!’ kiss on Cozy’s buns, then doubled down on the Matchbook until long after the camera faded to black.
*********
ELIZABETH CROMWELL:
LADY LYDIA LETHBRIDGE:
T’was an all English Special in the Oil Pit for FAWNatics in attendance at tonight’s show in Savannah GA wherein two Brit Brats (albeit not THEE Brit Brats) collided for the first time. On one side was Lady Lydia Lethbridge, recently returned to action following the culmination of her war of attrition with Kanako Akiyama and on the other was Elizabeth Cromwell who was seeking to course correct after coming up short against Estrina Starfire. Of course the perpetually pissed Young Lioness DID have a recent Oil Pit victory to her credit and she was hoping to build on that momentum to earn a lightweight championship opportunity. To her credit she’d started the battle with all her usual ferocity, but dear Lizzie was more used to battling against the forces of sweetness & light and was surprised (read: infuriated) when Lady Lydia answered her salvos with savage interest!
Control had passed between the two seemingly dozens of times in the first fifteen minutes of the contest, now it had slowed to the painful ’you hurt me, I hurt you’ stage with both ladies on their knees smudged up against the slick wall of the Pit. Cromwell and Lethbridge each had a handful of her opponent’s hair, all the better to THUMP her noggin into the Pit wall while occasionally PWAAAKING a cranky punch into opposing midsection.
“You low-class chav.” Lady Lydia sneered after bouncing Cromwell’s head once again. “Haven’t you learned by now that you’re no match for NGH! NGH! NGH!”
Lizzie bounced the brunette’s head like a basketball, then doubled down on the hair-hold in an attempt to liberate great patches of Lethbridge’s scalp. “Wuuuhh… watch your mouth, little girl.” Cromwell growled. “Otherwise I’ll finish the job that lunatic started.”
Just the mention of Kanako sent a furious charge of energy through her Ladyship. She ignored Elizabeth's grip as best she could and latched onto Cromwell's auburn locks with both hands, BANGING her foe's left temple into the wall, one, two, three times in a row. With Lizzie dizzied, Lydia shook her tresses free from the Boarding School Princess and rose unsteadily to her feet, nearly falling on the slippery Pit floor.
The high-born battler lifted a knee, CRACKING it into Cromwell's chin, snapping the head back of the self-proclaimed (and many times proven wrong) Best Brit Ever. Lizzie flopped to her back, managing to prop on her elbows and forearms, looking both startled and dazed. She tried to butt scoot her way out of trouble but Her Ladyship pressed Lizzie tight to the wall courtesy a raised foot to her foe's throat. A redfaced Cromwell wrapped both palms around the ankle, trying to remove the choking appendage. "Usually, I try to keep things on a more technical level," Her Ladyship informs through heavy breaths. "But YOU deserve no better."
Gripping the top of the Pit wall with both hands, Lethbridge bounced and pushed with her encroaching foot, just working her ankle back and forth to better gouge and grind at the delicate expanse of Cromwell’s neck. Not that Lizzie took this debasement in stride, mind you. She bucked and twisted, lashing out with her own feet in an effort to strike Lydia’s plant leg and when that didn’t work she raaaaaaaaaaaaked her nails up and down the gleaming expanse of the other Englishwoman’s shin.
Her Ladyship snarled in distaste, reached down with one hand and swiped nails across Lizzie’s eyes before hooking two fingers in her nostrils for a bout of vicious tugging. “Is this what you want, piggie?” she demanded. “Perhaps if you squealed for me I’d be inclined to show you the tiniest bit of merERRRRRRRHHHH!”
Cromwell wedged her thumbs against the sole of Lethbridge’s foot and dug in as hard as she could. Lydia jolted like a live wire, the curvy little battler forced to double down on her grip on the top of the wall to keep from collapsing to her knees. In this she was successful, unfortunately it meant she rather preoccupied when Lizzie reached up and jammed a claw between her thighs! “We’ll see who squeals, you pale, prissy imitation!” Cromwell barked as she mined for a sobbing submission in the depths of Lethbridge’s briefs.
Showing deference to the location of Cromwell's claw much more than the Scouser's low brow, Lydia quickly released her grip on the upper rim of the wall. Lizzie took the opportunity to shove Lethbridge forward, her fellow Brit plopping to a squishy seat on the coated blue plastic. Unfortunately for Lady Lydia, the Liverpudlian still had her talons in Lydia's privates, Elizabeth's fingers turning white with the pressure applied. Lethbridge howled in pain, now trying to back her way out but Cromwell was determined to keep the brunette a hand puppet. Cromwell got her squeals for Lady Lydia and then some, Lydia tearing at her own dark locks in a vain effort to spread the pain.
"Just say the magic words, luv. And you can go cry to Mommy!" Cromwell assured.
On her back, Lydia Scissored the arm of the encroaching digits and tried to pull the talons free, threatening to put Cromwell in danger of a submission. "My fingers are gonna chew right through that spandex beforAHHH!"
Cromwell was proved wrong as Lydia wrenched the nails from their task and she began bending Lizzie's wrist back at a dangerous angle. "Sing for me, commoner!" Lydia grunted through clenched teeth, her nethers still burning.
“Never.” Lizzie hissed, her delicate features twisted into a grimace of pain. With one arm effectively caught by the brunette she couldn’t simply scramble to safety so Cromwell actually stormed into the breach, a move that forced Lydia onto her back. This didn’t do a damned thing for the Scissors or the burning twinge in her wrist (which was growing more unpleasant by the second), what it did was grant the former Lightweight Champion a much better vantage from which to rain down Hammer Punches on her Ladyship’s thighs and tummy.
“Unhand me this instant you miserable trolloPPAAAAARRRRHH!”
Not about to cede to any of her opponent’s demands, Lethbridge shifted from the wrist-wrench to a two-handed grip on Cromwell’s fingers. For a moment it looked like she was attempting to explain the concept of ‘live long and prosper’, then the pitch of Lizzie’s shrieks indicated the brunette had the exact opposite on her mind. “That’s EXACTLY what I’m trying to do, idiot.” she said of the miniature wishbone. “It’s what I WILL do if you don’t bray your surrender this very instanEERRRRRRRRRHHHHH!”
Lizzie leaned into those upturned haunches, braced her free hand against the gulping expanse of Lydia’s tummy, then jabbed her thumb deep into the brunette’s navel. “You cannot imagine how far I’ll go to humble you.” she growled. “So I hope, I PRAY that you’ll hang on long enough for me to show you.”
Both Brits clenched their teeth in pain, trying to outlast the other and it's Her Ladyship blinking first. She released her Scissors and threw Cromwell's trapped arm away. Her folded legs, now available for other chores, spring outward, shoving Lizzie off her, Cromwell grunting as her back hit the Pit wall. She slid down to a seat, lithe, ivory-skinned legs extended in front of her. Lydia rose to vertical and limped several feet back, working at her trunks, trying to soothe the throbbing from her crotch. She did enough to fashion a gallop of sorts toward Elizabeth.
Apparently a football fan, she lined up a kick toward the tip of the BSP's shiny freckled nose, but Cromwell was able to drop to her left shoulder. Lethbridge SLAMMED her right instep into the lightly padded edifice. It's not an enormous impact, but it, combined with her aching privates and the slippery floor, left Lydia's retreat a sliding, limping mess, both hands buried below, Lethbridge cursing, not so much under her breath. With her back turned to Cromwell, Her Ladyship presented an inviting target and Cromwell pushed up and stalked Lydia from behind, arms extended, ready to snatch the matted oily strands of her foe. As Cromwell reached, Lethbridge pivoted into a side kick directed at the tummy of the BSP but Lizzie caught the effort, keeping Lydia hopping on the remaining planted foot. One hand remained between her thighs, the other Lydia raised plaintively.
Elizabeth offered a smile that was bright, almost friendly. “What’s that? Would you have me return you to the floor, where you belong?”
Lethbridge scowled, hunched forward over her straining leg and swiped at Cromwell’s nose only to come up short by half an inch. “If I am to touch the floor it will be with your mewling face providing a suitable cushOOOOOOOWWWWWWW!”
The Young Lioness stepped back and gave her foe’s captured ankle a single sharp yank. Her already tenuous balance destroyed by the tactic, Lady Lydia dropped into a full, albeit incredibly awkward split that had the FAWNatics groaning in cringing sympathy. Lizzie however felt no such twinge, indeed she was all smiles as she circled around behind the groaning, splay-legged aristocrat. “You are a vicious little monster, no question of that.” Cromwell’s tone might have held the slightest trace of admiration. “But you are still in my way and that means you are doomed to the most spectacular of failures.”
“Duuuuuhhh… don’t speak to me of failures when you still stink of Starfire’s armAAARRRRRRRRHHHHHHHH!”
Lizzie sank her claws into the other Englishwoman’s hunched shoulders and leaned forward so she could put every bit of her weight behind the claw. “WATCH YOUR MOUTH!” she roared. “Never speak that name in my presence if you value what little remains of your career!” To emphasize the point she pulled her left hand away from Lethbridge’s shoulder and slipped three fingers into the side of her mouth for a nasty fishhook.
Giving Her Ladyship a lopsided smile, Elizabeth moved her other hand from Lethbridge's shoulder to the back of her head and pressed forward and down, stuffing Lydia's face in the oily surface just in front of her stretched groin muscles. Cromwell quickly slid her legs over those of her fellow Englishwoman then folding them under the split versions of Lydia's, widening them all the more, testing the aristocrat's snapping point. Elizabeth released her fish hook and sent both sets of fingers into Lydia's dark locks. She lifted and hammered Lethbridge's forehead into the Pit floor a half dozen times then snaked her arms around Lydia's noggin, pressing them tight into her foe's carotid with a Sleeper grip. Lizzie shook Lydia's head for good measure, scrambling her gray matter while stretching the Lady's lower limbs to damn near 180 degrees.
"I believe you have something to say to the Best Brit Ever, don't you dear?"
“I’m… I’m not in the habit of talking to myself you byHHUUURRRRRGGGHHH!”
Lethbridge’s retort devolved into a guttural moan as Cromwell yoked up on that deep-set Sleeper.
“The time for games has passed, pretender.” Lizzie thrust her hips into the brunette’s bunched buttocks to make sure Lethbridge understood the severity of her situation. “Admit your failure or I’ll split you in ha--”
“PISS OFF!” Lydia shouted / sobbed, the contorted Englishwoman scrabbling for purchase with one hand while the other reached blindly for Cromwell’s hair. “I’ll never surrender to the likes of youOOOOOHHHHHH STAAAAAAAAAHHHHHP!”
The Young Lioness stretched those defenseless legs a little wider, wrenched the Sleeper a little harder and just like that her Ladyship was swatting the floor with both hands. “I SUBMIT! I SUBMIT YOU NASTY BYTCH, NOW LET ME GOOOOOOOO!”
Lizzie shook her head ‘no’ refusing the abandon her hooks until she’d been announced the victrix and the bell sounded almost half a dozen times. Prim and proper once more now that the battle was won, she stretched Lethbridge out flat on her face, then caught a Half Nelson and rolled her onto her back. From there it was a quick scoot north to settle the oily expanse of her briefs down tight against the trembling terrain of her Ladyship’s mouth and nose.
Hands on her knees, Cromwell locked eyes with the defeated brunette and sighed, “I’m sure there are some foolhardy slatterns in that locker room who would contest my claim as Best Brit Ever, but you, my dear Lydia… you will stay silent on the topic, if you know what is good for you. Do I make myself clear?”
Lethbridge’s brow scrunched like she meant to offer sass, so Elizabeth brought her thighs together with a wet ‘slap’. Biting her bottom lip in a coy little smile, Lizzie bobbled in place, letting the smother reduce her opposition to little more than slumbering, slobbering furniture.
“This will be my new empire.” Cromwell murmured to no one in particular. “And I will crush all who dare oppose my ascendancy.”
********
Tonight’s main event figured to be an intriguing one. Nyssa Bloodwind, having used the Pit to reignite her career, certainly wanted to keep the positive momentum rolling or, in this case, sliding through the oil. She’d done that and more in controlling if not dominating the first several minutes of the battle, keeping her foe pinned beneath her at most times.
NYSSA BLOODWIND:
Watching the display, it could be argued the Nubile Navajo simply had a knack for the slippery confines, never seeming to put a foot on the oily floor wrong and this Pit performance had been no different.
SOLEDAD SANCHEZ:
Her foe, the former La Hurrican, one Soledad Sanchez, a former thorn in the heel and just as accurately ass of Cherry Bomb had fallen on hard FAWN times after losing a war with Bunny Cooper.
Granted the opportunity to return to her native Mexico, Soledad spent 2018 trekking south of the border far and wide and earning high marks, both in terms of results and oddly, how cleanly they’d been garnered.
Now, as Sanchez started to take control of the Pit Proceedings against Nyssa, the crowd at a loss how Bloodwind was being so easily swept off her feet and kept there through Sanchez’s control of her limbs and balance, it’s shown La Hurrican may no longer be a cruel, evil wind.
As Soledad secured a Full Nelson behind the seated Nyssa, wrapping her slender, tawny legs around Bloodwind’s midriff to add a tightening Scissors, again fairly commanding the field of battle, it seemed she might indeed have found a truer self that required competition and yes victory, but not underhanded mischief to achieve it.
Ankles crossed tight, Soledad stretched her legs and squeeeeeeeeeeeeeezed hard enough to make Nyssa voice a groan that, thanks to the Full Nelson, emerged dangerously close to the northern slope of her own cleavage. “Give it up, Nyssa.” Sanchez demanded after her opponent trailed off into pained silence. “There’s no rope break that’ll get you out of this.” Soledad used the Nelson to bobble Bloodwind’s noggin to make sure the Arizonan knew the dangers of her predicament.
Waggling a finger to make sure Nick Castle knew she wasn’t about to cede the Pit to anyone, Nyssa opened and closed her hands for several seconds to keep the blood flowing. “There’s always a way out in this place, Soledad.” the gleaming brunette muttered. “You’ll learn that soon NNNNNNGGGGHHHH!”
Sanchez transitioned to a Half Nelson, reached across Bloodwind’s chest with her free (left) hand, grabbed hold of the other woman’s right wrist and drew it snug across her throat in a Cobra Clutch! Scissors still sank in deep, the limber bendyback stretched out on one side and poured even more power into the combination of holds. “I already showed you the only way out.” she murmured. “You want to find it? All you have to do is tap the floor. Or tell Nick you’ve had enouOOOFFFFFHHHH!”
The new arrangement allowed Nyssa to jab an elbow into the other brunette’s flank, but her positioning was far from ideal and she didn’t get nearly the power she was hoping for. Still, it was a crack in Soledad’s otherwise impenetrable defenses, so Nyssa leaned in as best she could, just grrrrrrrrinding that bony dagger against Soledad’s floating ribs. “We’ll see who taps, honey.”
Sanchez gritted her way through the increasingly annoying pain in her side. She clamped on tighter with her Clutch, hoping to anesthetize the Navajo warrior. Nyssa started to butt scoot both of them forward, Bloodwind reaching the Pit wall. She pushed her feet against the vertical edifice. Showing an innate sense of the structure, she thrust herself into a backward somersault that broke Nyssa out of Soledad's grip. She tumbled over a shoulder of Sanchez and ended up straddling the back of the Monterrey native, quickly wrapping her foe in a Crossface grip and RIPPING Soledad's head back and to the right.
"You were saying something about a submission," Nyssa purred in the Mexican's ear. "Some of these people may buy you finding a higher calling; me, the sound of you tapping will work either way." Sanchez grunted in pain as Bloodwind reeeefed on her foe's neck and back. But Soledad groaned out a 'no' when she's asked to surrender. Sanchez placed her palms flat on the blue plastic, pushing up despite the weight on her back. But a slight rise from Nyssa and a thrust of her pelvis into Soledad's spine sent her flat to the canvas once more. "Wrong idea, chica," Nyssa chided. "I've got Lenore in my sights and you're not changing that."
Soledad didn’t much enjoy the role reversal, though she kept her wits about her as she scrabbled and pulled at Bloodwind’s stern S-grip. “You’re gonna regret looking beyond me.” she grunted. “Even more so when I go on to dethrone the RaveNNNNNNGGHHH!”
Nyssa drove her hip into the small of Sanchez’s back once more, then shifted her perch so she was effectively sidled in snug on the other brunette’s left side with her legs stretched directly in front of straining rival. “I said Lenore’s in my sights.” Bloodwind corrected. “Never said a damned thing about overlooking you. Though now I bet you wish I had, don‘t you?” She jostled her hands back and forth while continuing to crank on the simple hold.
Noting the pain on Soledad’s face (not to mention the increasingly sharp curve of her neck and upper back) Nick Castle hurried around to get closer to the action and his tangled charges. “What do you say, Soledad? Need me to call for the bell?”
“NO!” Sanchez replied at once. “I didn’t fight my way back just to loOOOOOOOHHHHH!”
Nyssa planted her heels and pulled that much harder. “No one steps into the Pit to lose, sweetie. That’s why it stings so much when you doWHOOOOAAAHH!”
Soledad cinched her left arm around the Arizonan’s left thigh and used it to roll the both of ‘em backward into a tawdry looking cradle that pointed Bloodwind’s bum at the lights. It would’ve been good for a cover in less oily circumstances, but since pins didn’t amount to anything in the Pit Soledad settled for elbow-centric vengeance in the form of a flurry rained down directly atop her opponent’s forehead.
After a half dozen BANG into Nyssa's braincase, Sanchez relented, allowing the Navajo to spill to her back, dark eyes glassy. Soledad didn’t hesitate for an instant, rising to her feet next to the splayed Native American. It seemed damn near impossible considering the slippery surface upon which the Mexican stood and the flight wasn’t as graceful as most from the luchadora, but Soledad's able to back-flip through a Standing Moonsault and CRUSHED the shiny midriff of Bloodwind. Nyssa grunted, dark eyes bulging as she jackknifed under Sanchez. Soledad shoved the breathless Bloodwind to her chest, capturing Nyssa's left arm as she does, folding it into a Hammerlock. Sanchez somersaulted forward, planting in a bridge above the Native American's head, arm still in her possession, but with exponentially more torque in her Chickenwing. Nyssa howled in anguish as Soledad struggles to keep her bridge from sliding down. "QUIT!" the Mexican demanded over Nyssa's yelps, her soles slipping over the greasy Pit floor. "QUIT!"
“NO!” Bloodwind shouted at the top of her lungs. “NO, I DON’T GIVEERRRRRHHHH AAAAAAAAAHHHH SHYT!”
Sanchez shot her hips toward the rafters half a dozen times, each thrust and jounce increasing the vile torque on her opponent’s pinioned arm. As concerned for the Nubile Navajo’s winning streak as they’d ever been, the sold out crowd sent up a ‘PLEASE DON’T TAP!’ chant that seemed to motivate Soledad as much as Nyssa. Bracing her free hand against the floor of the Pit, Nyssa pushed up, stretched her legs out full length and began moving them like clock hands, the tenacious brunette hoping to work herself into a position that would alleviate the worst of the--
Soledad rolled out of the bridge without releasing her Hammerlock. Careful to keep the trapped limb glued between the Arizonan’s shoulders, she turned to the side and planted a knee on her opponent’s wrist. The increased weight didn’t sit well with Nyssa, who kicked her legs in a surprisingly unrestrained show of ‘stop hurting me!’ frustration. Alas, Soledad did no such thing. Indeed she managed to corral the former Lightweight Champion’s ankles, then fold them into a squashed ‘X’ and wedge ‘em against that defenseless backside. With one hand controlling Bloodwind’s ankles and one knee stymieing that trapped arm, Soledad flashed the camera a wink just before she cupped her free hand under Nyssa’s chin. Just like that she rolled onto her back and pulled the smaller grappler up onto her knees, Bloodwind’s spine wrenched into an agonizing arch by Soledad’s take on none other than London’s Bridge.
“YOU’RE FINISHED, BLOODWIND!” she roared. “TAP OUT!”
No verbal response from the Navajo except pained whimpers. The precise use of Shea's bridge wasn’t lost on the fans and they popped like crazy for Soledad, her use of the maneuver instantly convincing the more naive in the crowd she MUST have gone good. Nyssa shook her head as much as she could, trying to convince herself she couldn’t give in. Her arms flailed like reeds in the wind as the crowd seemed to understand she's had it. Sanchez's arms and legs have to be cramping after a dozen seconds of holding Bloodwind aloft but she refused to let Nyssa free. The women mewled for very different reasons, both trying to hold on in their own way.
The Native American beauty put her last efforts into wriggling free and the oil covering her tawny skin allowed Nyssa to slip into some slack, Sanchez giving way and pushing her legs open to send Bloodwind dropping to the canvas on her chest. Soledad, on her back, shook out the ache in her limbs, the crowd giving her a rousing ovation for her effort and her homage. Soledad waved to the FAWNatics then threw the raised arm to the Pit floor to roll to her chest and start to push up.
But underestimating the recovery time of the Native bendyback proved costly as Nyssa dove atop the back of the Mexican, corralling both arms. Sanchez struggled frantically, knowing what Nyssa had in mind, but she's unable to break free before the Navajo flips forward and bridges into the Dineh Deathlock, doubling up on Soledad's submission attempt. Nyssa's arched up on her toes, digging them into the Pit floor as Soledad squealed in anguish, her arms feeling like they're about to be ripped out at the sockets.
“It’s over, Soledad.” Bloodwind growled in a tone that suggested she was trying to convince both of them. “So tap out before you pass out.”
Stretched flat against the oily floor, Sanchez closed her eyes tight so she wouldn’t have to see the flashes from the Gladiatrix photographer’s camera. “Yuuuuhhh…. you’re the one that’s about to pass out, girl.” she grunted. “You’re gonna quit the next time I get my hooks in yoOOOOHHH STAAAAAAAAHHHHP!”
Now it was Nyssa’s turn to bounce like a madwoman, the exhausted battler throwing everything she had left into breaking Soledad’s fighting spir-- Sanchez twisted into the pressure in time with Bloodwind’s latest yank and managed to roll onto her right hip. Unfortunately she wasn’t able to free her arms from the former champion’s grip, but enduring a bog standard Double Chickenwing was infinitely easier than the Dineh Deathlock.
Frustrated by her adversary’s resilience, Nyssa pressed close to Soledad’s back and gouged into the side of her neck with the point of her chin. “Still not free, sweetie. These arms are mine--” The returning exotique powered to one knee, then rose to her full height accompanied by an isolated but energetic group of FAWNatics calling ‘SOL-EH-DAD!’
“Take my arms if you can, Nyssa.” Sanchez huffed. “But the Oil Pit belongs to me WHOONNNGGHHH!”
Nyssa dropped her hips and bridged back as hard as she could, the Nubile Navajo just TWHUMPING Soledad down on the back of her head and shoulders with a Tiger Suplex! The bone-jarring maneuver folded Soledad in half but Bloodwind didn’t hold the bridge, rather she barreled the other brunette back onto her belly and somersaulted over into a third bridge to reapply the Dineh Deathlock more forcibly than ever!
Soledad’s new cheering section was completely overwhelmed by a cacophonous wave of ‘TAP!’ chants. Soledad sobbed, shook her head ‘no’ and resisted as best she could, but with her arms reduced to helpless flailing and Nyssa bucking like she meant to dislocate her shoulders, it wasn’t very long before the brunette moaned, “I give! I give! Just stop, Nyssa. Just stop.”
Bloodwind kept the hold on for a few extra seconds to put something in the back of Soledad's mine if they ever met again, then released her locking arms, letting Sanchez sag into the oily floor, spitting out some of the viscous goop from between her lips. An exhausted Nyssa laid across the back of the Mexican's head and shoulders, keeping her foe pressed into the floor as she caught some deep breaths. Slowly, the Navajo warrior spun to her haunches just above Soledad's head.
But instead of twisting Sanchez onto her back and taking the usual oily perch, Nyssa offered Soledad a hand, appreciating the returnee keeping things above board and above waist. Sanchez glanced up at the offer and accepted, locking her palm with Bloodwind's. Nyssa tugged Soledad up to her knees, both women huffing in oxygen by the lungful. With the crowd roaring their approval at the display of both fighting and sportsmanship, the women hug it out from their knees.
Slowly, they used each other to rise. They turned to go shoulder to shoulder and Soledad raises Nyssa's arm high to the delight of the FAWNatics.
"Take out the Raven for all of us," Soledad chirped. "She deserves to be plucked clean."
"I will," Nyssa responds, grinning. "Don't you doubt it for a second."