Post by dsb on May 13, 2019 18:11:48 GMT
Kylie stands behind her partner, kneading Jasmine’s shoulders and whispering in her ear.
“That Southern-fried cheat is a menace,” Kylie informs. “Don’t lose your concentration for a second.”
Washington nods, keeping an ear peeled for her intro accompaniment. J-Dogg walks to the curtain’s edge and Sanders limps after her, still feeling the effects of the failed tag foray against the Hellions at March to War.
“And she picked tables for a reason, Vanilla Chill continues. “She knows she needs a gimmick to beat you. Just stay aggressive, and most of all, make her pay for what she did to me. Are you listening?”
“Yeah Chill, I’m listening,” J-Dogg assures, despite it being quite clear her attention is divided at best.
“I’m going to be out there with a legend,” Jasmine adds. “Who’ll do anything to win.”
“And I won’t be out there to save you,” Kylie appends. “Bethany’s seen to that.”
J-Dogg’s flawless features sour noticeably.
“I’ll turn the Slamma inside out and leave her in kindling.”
Jasmine V’s soft melodic ’That’s Me Right There’ fills the arena bowl and the crowd’s collective gaze turns to the upper stage. Wash pushes through to face this stern test on her own.
(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8tEyAAniu5U&index=36&list=PLFgquLnL59anjMBFmfztjKvngIUN1F987 )
The Dogg Pound is small but the few barking fans do their level best to keep up with the storm of jeers from the majority of the crowd. The gorgeous African-American grappler moves to center stage, the crowd momentarily mesmerized by the action of Washington’s hips and booty, the ‘WOOFS’ becoming more clear.
Jasmine Washington
Starting down the ramp, J-Dogg flashes signs and shakes dat incredible ass, Washington leading the ‘hate parade’, as the FAWNatics chant “FAKE…L…K” and “HOT AND BEATEN”.
Dressed in a tiny black hoodie, (black version of the following: i2.photobucket.com/albums/y32/biggerb/Jasmine-clothing.jpg~original ), Dogg angrily snaps her head back to clear the hood, her shoulder-length ebony locks brought into view. She waggles her way down the aisle as if she owns the place, her face pinching with disgust when shying away from the extended hands of the crowd.
Beneath the woman wears camo boy-cut trunks (http://s2.photobucket.com/user/biggerb/media/Jasmine-clothing%20below.jpg.html ) which accentuate her bootylicious backside all the more. Below are black pads and boots.
Reaching the ring, Wash hops to the apron and swishes her rump from side to side. She dips and slides through the ropes, the ring announcer taking that as his cue.
“Our next match is scheduled for one fall with a 20-minute time limit and is a Tables Match. Standing five feet, five inches tall and weighing in at 125 pounds. She’s the Hot in H&B, the J-Dogg of the yard…Jasmine Washington.”
Jas swivels her badonka-donk through a pirouette and moves to her corner to wait for cornbread, the fans seemingly relieved Sanders is nowhere to be seen and that tonight’s festivities will be the Badass from Hotlanta one on one with the Crimson Calamity.
“And her opponent...standing five feet eight inches tall, and tipping the scale at one-hundred and twenty pounds...from Uriah, Alabama...she is IIIIVVVVVVYYYYYY ARMSTRONG!”
“Wild Eyed Southern Boys” by .38 Special comes blasting through the arena's PA (www.youtube.com/watch?v=uIwIeFo430w). Grabbing the curtain with both hands and tearing it open, the redhead struts down the aisleway, her hips sashaying with silent temptation.
Ivy Armstrong
She wears a red and black satin corset and her trademark black denim 'Daisy Dukes' that evokes a sense of both Antebellum grandeur and country sass, even as the cut of the shorts reveal a conspicuous degree of her backside, and instead of the discreet ankle which a saucy Southern belle might have once shown, the redhead has on display her full legs in all of their lithe splendor, perched lethally upon a pair of crimson stiletto heels. As she confidently swaggers toward the ring, she pauses before one avid fan at the barrier, waving a sign that reads THE SOUTH'S GONNA DO IT TONIGHT! Cupping his face with her hands, she plants a kiss on his forehead, then whispers something into his ear that causes his knees to buckle and his friends to whoop, holler and high five one another.
Never let it be said Ivy wasn’t willing to give her all for the fans.
Her fan outreach completed, Armstrong resumes her march to the ring, a contented smile on her ruby red lips, and her black eye-lined green eyes half-lidded like a jungle cat on the prowl. At ringside, she grabs the ropes and pulls herself up to the apron. Stepping over to the center of the ring apron, she turns to face the crowd even as her arms reach up on either side so that her hands can grasp the top cable. First she kicks off one shoe into the scrambling throng, and then the other, leaving her barefooted. Then, with a gracefulness that would put Cirque du Soleil to shame, she flips up and over the strands in a graceful arc, alighting gently inside of the ring. The end result is an eruption of gratitude from the entranced crowd.
Now in the ring, she suddenly dashes toward a corner, leaping up the turnbuckles to the middle ropes, where she raises her arms. Beaming a smile, she calls out, "Who do y'all love?" The response is a chorus chant of "IVY! IVY! IVY!"
Alighting back to the canvas, Armstrong leans back casually in the corner, throwing her arms over the top ropes, her eyes finding those of the woman standing across the expanse of ring. The redhead gives a sly smile and a wink, displaying her utter self-confidence.
Washington stares daggers at the redhead, pushing out from her corner. She settles in a crouch in the middle of the ring.
“Get your lily white out here, loser,” Jasmine demands.
Ivy shakes her head knowingly, grin never leaving as she moves to join her foe.
“I’m sorry but wasn’t it your partner tapping out to my Charm before she went all nighty-night in my lap? And you weren’t looking so hot yourself, darlin’.”
Not waiting for the bell, Jasmine surges forward, trying to remove Armstrong’s head from her shoulders with a clothesline. But Ivy, provocation successful, dips beneath. As both women turn to each other, Ivy’s ready with a backhand chop to Jasmine’s chest, rocking her foe back with the stinging, echoing impact. She follows with another and another, the crowd ‘WOOOOING’ on cue as the redhead forces J-Dogg to heel in her corner.
The Slamma calls for the bell and Nick Castle obliges with a request of his own, the bell tolling, making things official. Dipping her shoulders, Ivy drives the left into the gut of the Badass, folding Washington between the top and middle ropes one, two and three times, Jasmine’s dark eyes bulging with every invasion.
Ivy pulls out and takes a brief stroll around the ring, arms raised, drawing a rousing ovation from the FAWNatics. She returns to a bent and gasping Jas, but the African-American grappler is ready with more, shooting a toe kick at Armstrong’s midriff. Unfortunately for the Pound, Ivy snatches her foe’s leg at the ankle before it strikes and lifts it high. The second-generation superstar leads a hopping Wash out of the corner, the Hot&Bothered star ‘washing windows’ pleadingly with her palms.
Ivy throws the captured limb toward J-Dogg and it swings through like a pendulum, taking Jasmine off her vertical stem, Washington faceplanting into the thinly-sheathed canvas. She rolls to her back, hands covering her face.
“Typical Georgia. All talk,” the Slamma needles.
She walks across Jasmine’s tummy, planting a bare foot into the café-au-lait-hued skin of her foe’s abs, drawing a grunt from J-Dogg, Ivy never one to misunderstand matches include having fun while you win.
In a state of less enjoyment, a snarling Jas hugs her tummy when Armstrong steps off, looking up at Ivy.
“Bytch. You don’t know what you’re playin’ wit.”
Armstrong motions Wash to get to her feet and, as Jasmine does, Ivy responds with “I’m playing with Kylie’s lap dogg, aren’t I?”
She follows with a flashing toe kick toward Jasmine’s abdomen and, like her foe, Washington is able to block and catch before she’s impaled.
“Looks like you’re the one on the leash,” J-Dogg informs, only for Ivy to vault off her planted foot and NAIL Kylie’s partner with an enziguri to the back of Jasmine’s skull that sends the Nubian beauty into a drunken pirouette, ending glassy-eyed in front of an ascending Ivy.
Armstrong grabs Jasmine with a pair of handholds in J-Dogg’s dark locks and pulls her foe’s head down to ‘bangin’ distance. The Hellion delivers three raised knees in succession. With Armstrong’s assistance, Washington stays vertical but only so Ivy can spin the increasingly beleaguered J-Dogg 180 degrees. Propping her left leg in front of Jasmine’s from behind, the redhead’s torso presses perpendicular to the back of the Badass. Ivy sneaks her head and shoulders under Jasmine’s right arm and latches in place.
Ivy works the abdominal stretch like only a veteran can, shredding at Jas’ tummy, weakening several pressure points mid-ship. Though there couldn’t be any submission, and likely wouldn’t be this early in the match in any case, Armstrong’s strategy to wear down Jasmine before putting her through folding furniture is well underway.
Wash grimaces in pain, biting her lower lip to hold in any wish to verbalize. But when Ivy adds a clawing grip to the flesh on Jasmine’s exposed side she can’t help but offer a pained mewl.
“I was going to say you should stop carrying Kylie,” Ivy grunts between each ratcheting of the pressure, “but the way you’re going tonight, maybe she’s carrying you.”
Jas’ face, already racked with pain, has anger mix in. Washington manages to lift a boot and STOMP it down on Ivy’s unprotected toes. As tough as nails, the Bama Slamma still can’t ignore the throbbing in her foot enough to keep stretching her Stretch. She dismounts Washington and hobbles away while Jasmine looks to put her vertebrae back in alignment.
Knowing she has to turn things around, J-Dogg gets after the retreating Armstrong, catching her quickly and spinning Ivy to face her. But the Slamma brings a forearm with her that SMASHES into Jasmine’s jaw, dropping Washington to one knee with the force.
Ivy ‘helps’ Jasmine to her feet with a grip on her braincase when Washington’s hands rise, lace and cup around the back of Armstrong’s noggin. The Badass drops to her bootylicious backside, drawing Ivy down with her and JAMS the crown of her skull into the redhead’s chin, jaw-jacking the Hellion.
Again, Ivy is staggered but doesn’t fall. But this time, Jas ascends and levels the ivory-skinned Hellion with a heavy clothesline, Armstrong left gazing glassily at the rafters. Jasmine skips over Ivy’s body and shows the athleticism Kylie’d used to stay relevant in the golden age of her career. Wash hits the nearby ropes in a handstand and uses the cables to rebound into a splash of the Slamma.
Standing Handspring Splash (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YO90f9scLZw )
Ivy’s eyes bulge as Jasmine CRASHES across her open abdomen, Armstrong jackknifing beneath her foe before melting to the canvas in a breathless spreadeagle. J-Dogg fails to remember there’ll be no pinfalls tonight and she rolls Ivy’s body up in a cradle before Castle reminds the Hot&Bothered star the rules for the match include making kindling with your foe.
J-Dogg slaps the canvas in frustration and decides to take the match where it needs to go. She pushes to her feet and leaps over the splayed Ivy, landing in a heavy senton across the already bruised belly of the Bama Slamma. With Armstrong left a retching mess, Washington slides out under the bottom rope and lifts the skirt of the apron to find the instrument that will allow her to get revenge for Vanilla Chill on the woman that left her partner a drooling mess at March to War.
Jasmine finds what she's looking before and she tugs a table out from beneath the ring.
Grunting as she lifts it, she pushes it under the ropes into the squared circle and promptly follows it in, rolling across the canvas and kipping back up to her feet. She then grabs the table and lifts it until it's vertical, walking it over to a corner, where she props it up at a slight angle against the ropes.
Turning her attention back to her opponent, she sees Armstrong groggily on all fours, trying to push herself upright. J-Dogg dashes toward her and puts a halt to any hopes the 'Bama Slamma was entertaining about getting back into the fight on a more equal footing, as she nails the redhead in the temple with a knee, causing Ivy to crumple to the mat with a moan. Grabbing her adversary's fiery locks, Washington hauls her up to unsteady legs and muscles her into the corner opposite that with the table. There, she sneers, "Time we did this Georgia style," and she thuds a couple of forearms smashes to her victim's alabaster chest, winding the Hellion.
Peeling the redhead out of the corner, Jasmine then drags her across the ring and Irish Whips her toward the table. However, in a sudden burst of adrenaline, Ivy actually picks up speed and rushes forward, running several steps up the inclined surface, and uses it as a launching pad to leap backward, twisting her nubile body in mid-air, and transforming it into a missile of destruction as she aims herself for a cross body splash on her opponent.
A "whoooooooo" rises up from the crowd as the Slamma impressively executes her maneuver, but that sound is instantly eclipsed by stunned gasps as Washington, in a tremendous display of raw power, braces her feet and actually catches Ivy in her arms! Rather than being knocked to the mat, the dusky destroyer actually holds the gobsmacked Hellion in her grasp. An instant later it is J-Dogg who now charges at the table, holding Armstrong in her arms, and driving the redhead full-force into the target.
And it is then that Jasmine, Ivy, and all of the fans realize that Bethany Christian does not scrimp when it comes to furnishings. Any other league would have bought cheap tables made of particle board, and removed the steel brace that forms the underneath 'spine'. But Bethany has splurged on good, rugged spruce, and she has mandated that the steel bar be left in place. As a result, it was now obvious that it was going to take a greater-than-anticipated amount of force to break one of these tables and win the match.
"Fine by me," Washington sneers as she peels the stunned Hellion off of the table by her hair. "I'll just have to throw you a whole lot harder."
Jasmine pivots toward the opposite corner and snap mares Armstrong on her way, the redhead flipping to a harsh landing on her tailbone. Ivy’s visage radiates the pain from her coccyx, hands shoveled under her derriere to massage the landing point. Behind her, Jasmine lines up a 45-yard field goal and swings her right boot like a pendulum toward the Slamma’s spine.
A split-second before the connection, the FAWN original swivels on her seat and catches the kick against her ribs. Though the meaty thump gives J-Dogg some satisfaction, her leg is trapped by Ivy. The Hellion fights through the discomfort from a variety of points on her frame and climbs to her feet, still in possession of Washington’s right leg, Jas hopping to keep her precarious balance. Washington launches from her planted foot with an enziguri kick in mind, but the veteran ducks under and J-Dogg pirouettes over the top, landing on all fours in front of the redhead.
Ivy quickly takes a forward-facing seat, mounting Jasmine and slapping her open palms into either jawline of Jasmine. Armstrong twists her foe’s head to the right, wrenching at the neck of the Badass. After getting her fill of forcing Jasmine’s right ear to her shoulder and leaning in much of her weight to place a semi-permanent crick, Ivy releases her grip, fashions a point out of her right elbow, and lowers the BOOM on the crown of the Hotlanta native’s cranium. Jasmine’s dark eyes go glassy.
Things don’t get any better when Armstrong swings her vaunted stems forward and up, clamping them around either temple of her foe. She hooks her head scissors at the ankles in front of J-Dogg’s features and pours on the pressure, trying to crack Jasmine’s skull like a walnut between her crushing limbs.
The wincing Wash is able to fight through the pain and pressure and reach her knees, Armstrong forced to adjust to a standing version of her scissors in the process. Jasmine peels at the limbs trying to pry them open, but anyone with a passing knowledge of FAWN understands the attempt will be in vain.
Learning that soon enough, J-Dogg wraps her arms around Ivy’s alabaster thighs and, against all odds, starts to rise. She gets one knee up then slowly, unsteadily presses to vertical, putting Armstrong in a precarious electric chair position atop Jasmine’s shoulders.
Well aware the table behind her has a few cracks from the previous collision, Washington starts backing her way toward the angled wooden face. But before the Badass can throw herself toward the furniture and heave the Crimson Calamity off and through first, Armstrong levels her balled right hand and pounds it into Jasmine’s scalp a half dozen times. The volleys loosen J-Dogg’s grip and Ivy slips down her foe’s back a few steps from the table.
Ivy latches onto the Hot&Bothered star from behind, wrapping her ivory arms around Jasmine’s gulping coppery waist. Cinching her embrace tight, Armstrong dips slightly, ready to launch Wash up and over with a belly-to-back that would send the Bama Slamma to a kindling-producing win, Jasmine left in the demolished timber.
But when the redhead tries to lift Jas, Washington snakes her right leg around that of Armstrong and keeps herself grounded. Before Ivy can try again, Jasmine whips an elbow blindly behind her and the joint craaacks into Ivy’s cheek, rattling the redhead’s senses. Another impact sends Armstrong stumbling away with Jasmine in pursuit. Turning when she reaches the ropes, Ivy is immediately NAILED with a clothesline. The strength of the impact sends her backflipping over the cable, but the veteran cleverly manages to wrap her legs around Jasmine’s torso as she exits and both women are sent tumbling to the apron before bouncing to the floor.
The aching beauties ignore the pain from the trip, reach a kneeling position, facing each other. They let loose with cannon-fire right hands. One from Ivy. One from Jasmine. One from Ivy. One from Jasmine. The bomb-throwing duo trade blistering blows to a dozen apiece. Each woman, gassed, leans against the other, Georgian and Alabaman making an ‘A’ frame from their delectable physiques.
“You’re gonna love Southern-fried sycamore, darlin’,” Armstrong pants.
“You’ll pick your teeth with Georgia pine, Crimson Cracka,” Washington insists breathlessly.
Ivy leans her noggin back to make some space and shoots it forward, THUNKING her forehead into the bridge of Washington’s nose. J-Dogg yelps in pain, hands flying to her beak as Armstrong sinks a set of nails into Jasmine’s dark locks and draws the H&B star up as she rises. The baby blues of the Slamma focus on the steel ring steps down the length of the ring. With Castle dawdling on his count, the Hellion aims Jasmine at the metal edifice and whips Wash on her way.
Jasmine races across the floor and manages to dip a shoulder to absorb the blow, but what a blow. The steps reverberate with an echoing BANG as the top portion splits from the bottom, J-Dogg left splayed between them, grasping at her aching arm.
A smirking Armstrong gives a cheeky wink to the crowd then checks underneath the apron’s skirt. She pulls out another possible match-winning platform and leans one end against the edge of the mat. The Hellion shoves it into the squared circle and follows behind to break Nick’s growing count. Immediately, Ivy slides back out to gather Washington, the Dogg complaining as she’s yanked to her feet by her hair then is quieted when her face is THUMPED into the hardest part of the mat.
Jasmine’s head ricochets off the thinly-sheathed plywood and Wash flops into Ivy’s arms. The Southern Charmer grabs Jas by a shoulder and the back rim of her trunks and heaves Kylie’s partner back in the ring under the bottom rope.
Armstrong hops to the apron and slips in between the top and middle cables. She flips the newly added table right side up and begins to assemble as a wobbly Jasmine, still trying to shake off her demolition of the steps, drunkenly sags into a corner, throwing an arm over the top rope on either side to remain upright.
Ivy chooses to keep this table on the horizontal, moving it several feet out from the corner J-Dogg inhabits. Having severely disrupted the cafe-au-lait-skinned beauty’s escape routes, the redhead rushes Jasmine and buggywhips her braincase with a European Uppercut to J-Dogg’s chin. With Wash’s head bobbling from the blow, Ivy scoops her arms under the thighs of the African-American grappler and sets J-Dogg in a seat on the top buckle.
Ivy climbs to the middle strands and pulls Jasmine’s noggin into a front facelock, preparing to superplex her foe through the sturdy furniture to put the score at 2-0 versus Kylie and her stooges.
Things look grim indeed for J-Dogg, but desperation is also a mother of invention, and drawing upon her dregs of strength, Washington fires a fist into the redhead's ribcage. Ivy grunts hard from the painful blow, but doesn't release her hold, but as Jasmine starts to piston lefts and rights into her opponent's midsection, the 'Bama Slamma's grasp on the facelock grows slack, allowing the sepia slugger to pull her head free.
Anxious to salvage the situation, Ivy climbs up to the top ropes, her left hand grabbing Jasmine's hair, her right fist cocked for a punch aimed squarely at the Georgia bullDogg's face. But the blow is never struck, as the H&B honey wraps her arms around her opponents thighs, gives a defiant growl, and lifts Armstrong up, twisting herself to her left before releasing her grasp.
Gravity takes over from this point, dropping the redhead downward. And she doesn't halt her descent until the top rope goes up between her thighs! Stunned, mouth agape, the Hellion sits precariously upon the cable, which presses painfully up against her crotch, her fabled denim shorts offering virtually no protection. Jasmine jumps down from her perch and staggers over to the ropes behind Ivy, wraps her hands around the top strand, and does her best Ultimate Warrior, shaking it violently up and down, and taking the redhead on a rough ride that does her delicate womanhood no good.
Finally the Slamma loses her balance, tumbling leftward and landing with a hard thud to the arena floor. She struggles to rise up, one hand clutching her abused delta, as J-Dogg rallies with a burst of adrenaline and dashes across the ring to the opposite ropes; bounding off of them for momentum, she rushes back, then effects a baseball slide beneath the threads, and nails Armstrong flush in the side of her face with a boot, sending the harried Hellion sprawling back to the floor.
She then puts the boots to her adversary, stomping a Georgia mudhole in the Alabama angel. Ivy curls her body to try and weather the storm. Jas finally ceases and rolls back into the ring in order to break the referee's count, then promptly rolls right back out again. Feeling her oats, she hauls the mewling Hellion up off of the deck by her tangled scarlet mane; recalling her uncomfortable introduction to the ring steps earlier in the match, Washington returns the favor, this time whipping Ivy into the steel ring post, leaving stars falling on the Alabamian as she staggers backward on comically rubbery legs.
Again grabbing her foe by her hair, Jasmine snarls, "I could finish you right now, but I'm gonna have some more fun first! I'm just a Dogg with a bone!" Armstrong lets out a small whine of panic at these words.
Washington stuffs her foe back in the squared circle, Ivy rolling to a stop several feet in. Jasmine hops to the apron and turns to the crowd, letting them know they backed the wrong horse…err…Dogg.
She slides through the cables as Armstrong starts to rise. With the redhead still doubled, head bowed, Jasmine surges to the Slamma and launches her right leg high and extended. With the limb laid behind Armstrong’s noggin, J-Dogg drops to the canvas and PLANTS Ivy’s face there with her Jazzasser.
Jazzasser (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ggh8KPqs-NI )
Armstrong flops to her back from the force of the impact, barely hanging onto consciousness. The Hot&Bothered star starts to cover before catching herself and cursing her luck. She rises to her feet and tries to tug Ivy there, but the redhead is deadweight and Wash has a hell of a time getting the Southern Charmer vertical. Instead, she drags Ivy to the table cavewoman style, scooping up the Hellion under her arms, leaning her against the furniture.
As she tries to force Armstrong onto the altar of violence, Ivy springs to life, NAILING Jasmine with a right cross. J-Dogg responds in kind and quickly the volleys are flying, the crowd cheering for each of Ivy’s and jeering the return shot from the sepia-skinned brawler.
When Ivy changes her balled fist to a knife-edge and thrusts it into Washington’s throat, the tide is turned, Jas staggering off in a u-turn, reaching to her neck and rasping ragged breaths.
Armstrong catches her from behind, sinking her nails into Jasmine’s ebony locks and spinning J-Dogg to face her and acquiring a grip on a wrist. Folding Jasmine’s left arm up and back, clearing a well-travelled path, Ivy PLOWS a heart punch into Washington’s sternum. The THUMP of knuckles to breastbone immediately put a flutter in Jasmine’s blood pumper. J-Dogg’s lids flutter, her powerful legs shuddering.
Ivy drives a boot into the gut of her floundering foe. She turns and latches on with a ¾ facelock. It’s a quick drop to the alabaster backside of the Bama Slamma and Jasmine is launched from the impact of chin to shoulder with a SoCo Stunner of megaton proportions.
SoCo Stunner (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ysvpoIjCs9I )
Two of Ivy’s classics pulled from the vault leaves the overwhelmed Jasmine laid out in a starfish, unmoving. Armstrong well knows what’s necessary now but the thought of making a statement with Jasmine is tempting indeed after already Charming Kylie at March to War.
Ivy uses her bare foot to roll a demolished Washington to her chest then moves to a reverse standing straddle of the African-American grappler’s infamous booty. Collecting the left leg at the ankle, Armstrong lifts the limb and shuffles toward Jasmine’s head, dipping into a low crouch as she does, bringing Washington yelping back to life with a single-leg Crab.
But the Dirtiest Player isn’t done. She brings some White Lightning to Jasmine and this attack isn’t coming in a shot glass. Instead, with her free hand, Ivy thrusts a set of talons into the crotch of the half-Crabbed J-Dogg, upping the pain quotient exponentially. Working leg , spine and now womanhood, Ivy expertly tortures Washington with her signature. In agony, Jasmine tugs at her own locks, trying to spread the pain.
Quickly realizing the transference isn’t helping, Jas digs her nails into the canvas and starts tugging her way to the ropes. But as she reaches within a finger’s length, Ivy rises from her crouch and drags the Dogg back to dead center, reapplying her White Lightning.
Overcome by the fire from her backbone and ravaged groin, Jasmine taps the canvas enthusiastically, pleading for her release.
“STAHHHP…I GIVE!” she wails.
“Of course you do,” Armstrong responds with a growl, releasing her Crab and the added surprise between her foe’s legs that came free of charge.
Castle makes sure Ivy understands the match isn’t concluded.
“Yeah, yeah,” the Slamma responds. “I’ve been in a few of these, darlin.”
The Crimson Calamity stomps the base of Washington’s spine to make J-Dogg aware, in case she had an idea surrendering prematurely ended in her night.
“Just wanted to make Kylie’s hired help know where she stands on the totem pole, above Sanders but nobody else.”
A beleaguered Jasmine pushes to hands and knees before Ivy straddles the rising J-Dogg and sends her flat to the canvas with a butt bump to the small of Wash’s back, Armstrong systematically rearranging her foe’s vertebrae, Jasmine mewling in pain.
“From the sound of things, you want me to end it,” Ivy says to her rival. “WHADDYASAY” she shouts to the FAWNatics and they respond in positive fashion.
Ivy nods and sinks a set of fingers into J-Dogg’s hair, yanking her to one knee before tugging the H&B star into a tight side headlock. Armstrong walks Jasmine to the horizontally-situated table and BANGS her forehead into the sturdy wooden top. A dazed J-Dogg is stuffed onto the surface, pointed to the rafters, dark eyes glazed.
Never known for her high flying, Ivy nevertheless slips around the table and heads up the corner next to the sacrificial Dogg. She reaches the top and turns to face Washington, Jas figuratively served on a platter. But as Armstrong drops in a crouch to launch, Jasmine recovers enough to roll off the table and flop to the floor beside it.
A frustrated Slamma drops to a seat on the top buckle, cursing J-Dogg’s good fortune but not ready to let Wash get away scot free. Knowing the table is made of sturdier stuff, Ivy waits for Jasmine to rise and, once her foe is on the way up, Ivy skips lightly to the table top from the middle ropes, using the furniture as an extended launch point. From the table, she flies off, legs extended, and NAILS Jasmine in the chest with a perfectly placed missile dropkick that sends the Badass from Hotlanta into a back somersault that leaves her seated in front of the opposite corner, lower limbs stretched out in front of her, head wobbling.
A risen Armstrong kicks the legs wide and charges to the table from which she’d launched before turning. Lifting an index finger high, drawing the Hellion Army to her spiritual side, the redhead races toward Washington. She leaps from several feet out, ivory-skinned legs in a tight single file. The bare feet at the end THUMP into the juncture of Jasmine’s thighs as Ivy lands, doubling up on the White Lightning. Jasmine rolls around the canvas in agony from the impact, collapsing into a ball, trying to protect her kitty from further abuse.
The crowd shows no sympathy despite Ivy’s less than kosher tactics, such being the life of an ally of FAWN’s Most Hated. Washington tries to roll out under the bottom rope but Armstrong catches her by the scruff of the neck.
“Did I say you could leave?”
Ivy pulls a reeling Jasmine to her feet.
“Time for the Tide to bury a Georgia dawg like they do every year, honey.”
Armstrong slips her alabaster arms around the tummy of the stooped Jasmine. Cinching her embrace tight, the Hellion launches the Badass, flipping Jas up her frame to a powerbomb stall on Ivy’s shoulders. Armstrong pivots toward the table. But before she can put Jasmine to a splintered rest, Wash pounds away with a series of rights to the crown of the redhead’s cranium.
A half-dozen hit home before Armstrong’s cradling arms collapse and Jasmine returns to terra firma. Ivy levels a clothesline at J-Dogg’s clavicle, but Wash slips underneath. The women turn to each other after the swing and miss and it’s Jasmine who’s quicker on the draw, both shooting for a toe kick but Jas digging hers in first, preempting Ivy’s effort.
A bugeyed Armstrong is bent and frozen from the impact, unable to respond when the Dogg dips and pushes her head between Ivy’s infamous thighs. Jasmine’s arms wrap around the pit of Armstrong’s knees and the sepia-skinned grappler launches the Slamma over her shoulders, maintaining her grip behind Ivy’s knees. The crowd groans as they realize what’s appeared out of nowhere and Jasmine drops to her knee, SPIKING the crown of Ivy’s skull into the deck with her Ass Backwards Driver.
Ass Backwards Driver (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=slN0_8QaRuI )
The impact leaves Ivy in a spreadeagle, a faint involuntary twitch rippling through her frame before she falls still, demolished and decrepit. Kneeling next to the splayed Armstrong, a winded Jas knows there’s nothing left of Ivy and she takes her time rising and maneuvering her redheaded rag doll atop the nearby table, the Slamma’s sleeping visage pointed to the lights above.
Sliding around the table, Jasmine gathers a big breath, palms latching onto the top rope on either side of the corner. Dipping, she elevates, landing her boot soles on the middle ropes then heaving her body backwards in a Badass Bomb. Jasmine SLAMS down atop Ivy’s midriff and the force of the impact SMASHES the table in two if it doesn’t likely do the same to Armstrong.
Badass Bomb (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sGp6Ihmmatw ) @ 1:00)
While Ivy is obliterated, Wash can do no more than wriggle within the wreckage, destroyed by her own maneuver but nevertheless victorious as the bell and the announcer soon make clear.
“Your winner…from Hot&Bothered…J-DOGG…Jasmine Washington!”
Jas hardly looks the part. She’s able to roll face up but can manage no more, paying a heavy price to take back the initiative in this increasingly heated war.