Post by walkindude on Dec 17, 2019 23:03:33 GMT
One week ago…
BECKY CLAYTON:
Becky Clayton strode up to the door to the Black Court’s sanctum sanctorum, paused, checked her watch yet again. Two fifty-seven meant that Emily and Lenore were either working out, breaking down some esoteric literary trend of centuries past or quite possibly both at the same time. The Camouflage Crusher took a deep breath, then rapped out a distinctive four-note knock to ensure any Courtiers within earshot knew she was one of them. Ceremony observed, she punched in the password on the keypad and stepped through when the door swung open. A quick glance around revealed no one in view, though she could hear the Black Queen and the Raven having an animated discussion from somewhere in the vicinity of the practice ring.
“Em? Len?” she called out. “Am I interrupting anything?”
“Not at all, Rebecca.” Emily replied at once. “Lenore is once again trying to convince me that Friday the13th should be included in the Gothic horror tradition and I, once again, am rebuking her at every opportunity.”
“She means to say she’s being mulish, Bex!” Lenore retorted. “Camp Crystal Lake is every bit as gothic a locale as Hill House or--”
“We can continue this later, Lenore.” Emily interrupted. “Something tells me Rebecca isn’t making a social call.”
“No worries, I can come back if--”
EMILY WEST:
LENORE LEMARCHAND:
Clayton quieted down when West and Lemarchand, each in strappy fightin’ one-pieces came around the corner with a towel slung over their shoulders. Nodding a greeting to her Master at Arms, Emily helped herself to a long pull from her water bottle, then settled in against the short row of lockers that separated the practice ring from the rest of their space. As for Lenore, she plopped down on a low wooden bench in front of the lockers and set about removing her boots.
“Is Sue around?” Becky asked. “I was hoping everyone would be here.”
The Raven shook her head ‘no’. “Burlingame’s somewhere in Ibiza, at least that’s what her last few tweets indicated. I get the impression she’s terrorizing the locals while searching for something to inspire her vengeance on a particular redheaded doctor who shall not be named.”
Bex nodded in understanding. She, more than anyone else in the Court, knew what it meant to want revenge on the Crimson Cagliostro. “Guess I’ll have to check with her later.” she said after a moment’s hesitation. “I just didn’t want her to pissed if I called dibs while she was gone.”
Emily raised one eyebrow ever so slightly, Lenore made no response at all. “Is that what you’re here for, Rebecca? Calling dibs?”
Bex nodded. “Assuming that neither of you have any designs on it, yes, I’m calling dibs.”
“Not me.” Lemarchand replied. “Last time I tried for the World Title it cost me a few months on the shelf. I don’t know what 2020 holds, but I’ve got no interest in the big gold belt.”
“And you, Em?” West considered for a moment. “I believe my days in search of the top prize are over, Rebecca. You’re more than welcome to invoke The Rule and you’ll have the Court’s full support throughout your campaign, however long it may last.”
“Then this is me officially declaring my intentions to pursue the FAWN World Championship.” Becky said. “I’ve owed Lisa Dream a reckoning for a long, loooooong time. I… I don’t wanna go down as the only one-night World Champ in FAWN history, Em. But I also don’t want…” Clayton fell silent as a troubled look passed across her face.
“Say what’s on your mind, Rebecca.” Emily prompted. “You never have to request permission to speak freely here.”
The BFG nodded but still took several seconds to collect her thoughts. “This place has been almost calm since we busted up Miranda’s creepy tent revival. Yeah, Portia’s popped up again, but she seems content to manage rather than wrestle. Amara and Alexis are dangerous of course, but they’re after gold, not conversion. They’re mercenaries at heart and you don’t-- you don’t need me for mercenaries.”
“On the contrary, Rebecca. You of all people are ideally suited to deal with such a threat, were they to become one.” Emily countered. “But this isn’t about The Gold Standard, is it? This is about the Black Court.”
“Yeah, it is. I told you I don’t want to be remembered as FAWN’s only one night World Champion. And you know me well enough to know I’ll do whatever it takes to put that title around my waist again. But if I can, no when I do, I don’t want there to be any asterisks next to my name.”
“Which is to say you don’t want anyone claiming you won it with Court assistance.” Lenore interjected.
“I want to do this by myself, Lenore. I need to do it by myself.” Becky murmured. “I guess I’m here to ask for my Honorable Discharge.”
“Did you really think there was a chance I wouldn’t grant such a request, Rebecca?” Emily asked. “You were a vital part in our war against Miranda and her followers. You’ve earned the right to do whatever you’d like, as far as I’m concerned. We’ll certainly miss your camaraderie, but I couldn’t in good conscience prevent you from achieving a career milestone in the fashion you wish to achieve it. What say you, Raven?”
“I say you know where we’ll be if you need back up.” the brunette replied. “And that I expect to be the first one you call when it’s time to mount The Dream’s crazy head over your fireplace.”
Becky smiled, an expression both surprised and relieved. “So I have your blessing?”
“Consider this conversation your discharge papers.” Emily confirmed. “Caveat. FAWN is enjoying a stretch of relative peace, yet if the proper threat arises I may call in the reserves, as it were. I hope we can count on you, should that day ever come.”
“Just make the call, Emily. I’ll be there on the run.”
The Black Queen smiled and extended a hand. “Go forth and do great things, Rebecca Clayton. I look forward to the fireworks of your heavy artillery.”
Becky shook her hand, pulled West into a quick hug. “Thank you. For everything, Em.”
Lenore moved in for her own embrace when Em and Bex drew apart. “Gonna miss you, soldier.” she said. “Dare I ask about your first target on this particular solo mission?”
“Erika Eisenberg.” Clayton answered at once. “Debt’s not as old as the one I owe Lisa, but it’s just as big, maybe even bigger.”
“Then go make the Constrictor a crater.” Emily advised. “Then pick another target and crater them. And then another and another, until the front office gives you the opportunity to bust Lisa’s bunker for good.”
Becky Clayton stepped back, clicked her heels together and offered her friends a crisp salute.
“Ma’am, yes ma’am.”
With that she spun around and strode out of the Court’s HQ to prepare for her match with the towering blonde.
When she was gone, Lenore said, “Ace, Queen and Raven makes three, but there’s an ocean between Susan and the FAWN Arena. Seems we might be a little short-handed, Emily.”
“Come now, Lenore.” the Black Queen smiled. “Our side may be many things, but it is never short-handed, despite appearances to the contrary.”
“I see. Anything you’d like to tell me?” “No need at this stage, as Rebecca noted, FAWN’s enjoying a hard-earned moment of peace. Should that change… well, the BFG is hardly the only name on my ‘reserve list’. That said, shall we resume our previous conversation?”
Lemarchand shook her head ‘no’. “Can’t. I’ve actually got the night off, so Kent and I are going to do some shopping, then grab dinner and see a revival of Black Christmas at the Enzian.”
“A suitably seasonable itinerary. We can pick this up whenever you’d like.”
“I AM right, you know.” Lemarchand grinned. “You just don’t want to admit it.”
“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about, Lenore.”
********
“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall with a twenty minute time limit. Introducing first, hailing from Berlin, Germany, she stands at five feet nine inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and forty pounds. She is the Constrictor Queen, the Sinuous Strangler… ERIKA EISENBERG!”
Her name was still ringing in the rafters when the houselights went down.
An unnatural air of trepidation fell about the arena, the tight confines suddenly claustrophobic, the slow creep of foreboding summoning a chill that was uncommon. A slim slit of crimson red illuminated through the curtains, the identity of the arriving competitor not a mystery and yet, from reputation and history, a palpable sense of unease gathered over those watching.
ERIKA EISENBERG:
Erika Eisenberg emerged amongst the stark and piercing beat of that opening rhythm, the melody as unsettling as it was threatening, the curvaceous carnivore striding with purpose, with desire, her pace unceasing and her gaze entrancing, ice blue and calculating, alluring... perilous...
Attired in the skin of a dead predator, the blonde Destroyer hugged tightly by the two-piece, dark tan, snakeskin top and slim line shorts, elbow long, fingerless gloves and knee high boots, she was every inch the Titan the FAWNatics remembered her to be. Slowly, with cold, methodical, malicious intent, she circled the ring, refusing to acknowledge the unsettled bystanders, that stare, that piercing, ravenous stare soaking in the ground upon which she would feed upon her would be rival.
Once the undisputed Queen of Misery, Eisenberg’s statuesque physique heralded an overriding sense of dread, of cold, malicious intent, every ounce and inch of that serpentine frame resonating an insatiable hunger that could not be slaked.
Suddenly, with a burst of speed, she all but leapt onto the apron, proceeding to almost effortlessly lift one long, stunningly powerful leg over the top rope, followed quickly by the other, a slight, mirthless smile finally rising to her coldly intense features.
That smallest of mirthless smiles remained upon her features as the houselights returned with agonizing slowness and she found her corner as though she owned it, her eyes unfaltering from the almost painfully young brunette opposite, the veteran, titanic blonde inhaling slowly… yet deeply in anticipation. She’d bent the dog-faced brat the first time they’d met. Tonight she would break her once and for all.
“And introducing her opponent, hailing from Denver, Colorado and stands at five feet eight inches tall and weighs in tonight at one hundred and thirty-five pounds. They call her the Peacekeeper, she is BECKY CLAYTON!”
WHITE FLAG:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=RWzZeA2GMsk
BECKY CLAYTON:
Those fans expecting ‘Heroes’ were surprised when a different tune hit the speakers. Took ‘em a moment to identify it as ‘White Flag’ by Bishop Briggs, a tune that seemed an especially apt anthem for the Army of One Hot Chick.
Take a hit, shoot me down, shoot me down
I won't ever hit the ground, hit the ground
Playing dead, I'll never do
Gotta keep an eye on you
Patience is wearing thin, paper thin
Promises broke again, what a sin
But it only feeds my energy
So don't expect no sympathy
Smoke, fire, it's all going up
Don't you know I ain't afraid to shed a little blood?
Smoke, fire, flares are going up, flares are going up
The chorus started in time with Clayton’s arrival, the BFG plowing through the curtains to take up residence center stage where she treated the FAWNatics to a grin and a brawny double bicep flex. For tonight‘s long awaited rematch with Eisenberg, the powerhouse blonde sported a black & green camouflage two-piece with tie-sided bottoms and an impossible to ignore ladder / double helix of lycra that ran from the top of her waistband all the way to the southern border of her low-cut sports bra. The gear was completed with flat black pads and boots and few wraps of dark green wrist-tape.
Smile fading as started down the ramp, Becky murmured, “Receipt comes due tonight, snake-bytch. I’m gonna de-fang ya, tie ya in a knot and leave what’s left for the vultures.” Promise made, Clayton zigzagged several times to make sure didn’t miss a single FAWNatic. Once that was done Becky bounded up the steel steps and leapt over the top rope in one effortless burst of kinetic energy. Coming to a stop in the center of the ring, Becky spun toward the hard camera and snapped off a crisp salute. Bolstered by a final wave of applause, the Camouflage Crusher fixed an icy glare on Eisenberg as she backed into the opposite corner where referee Al Carpenter made a quick check of her pads and boots.
Clayton and Eisenberg came out of their corners at the CLANG of the opening bell, each Destroyer looking for a notable victory to close out 2019 on a high note and usher in their respective campaigns for the following year.
Slowing as the distance closed, Erika looked her opponent up and down, that intense blue gaze scanning for some quality… or lack thereof, in tonight’s opposition. “Such a pity.” she said softly. “You finally muster enough initiative to break away from the Black Court and in your assignment sees you run afoul of a challenge that‘s already humbled you like no other. Such is the story of your career, is it not, Rebecca Clayton?”
Becky’s eyes narrowed and her shoulders bunched, though she did not advance on the former Intercontinental Champion. “You got three more chicks hiding behind you, Eisenberg?” she asked. “Because from where I’m standing I’ve got more than enough firepower to take you down.”
Erika arched a dubious eyebrow. “Is that so? Then perhaps you’d like to test your, ahem, armaments, against my own?” The sinewy blonde lifted her right arm high overhead, Eisenberg’s fingers twitching a secondary challenge to the Camouflage Crusher. More than happy to give Erika a taste of how her night would play out, Clayton stepped in close and pressed the palm of her left hand to Eisenberg’s right. Their fingers were still twining when Erika pressed the palm of her free hand to Becky’s mouth and pushed hard enough to swivel the American blonde’s head to one side. Clayton didn’t feel blood flow, yet she was fairly certain it’d been a narrow escape. The thought was still crossing her mind when Eisenberg brought that same hand up and over to CRAAACK Bex’s décolletage with a whistling Overhand Slap!
“Still following every order tossed your way, I see.” Erika sniffed. “No wonder you make such a good little dog-facNNNGGGH!”
The BFG smashed a short Headbutt into Eisenberg’s mouth, rocking the taller wrestler back on her heels without breaking the Knucklelock that kept them tethered. This was just as Clayton intended as it allowed her to tug Erika forward and THWHAP her modest assets with a clubbing Forearm Smash. Eisenberg grimaced, put a hand to her chest, then went up on tiptoes once Clayton brought the grip down to six o’clock and rolled Erika’s hand back on her wrist in a high stakes game of Mercy.
“What were you saying, E?” Becky asked with saccharine sweetness. “You were talking tuff, then started whimpering for some rea--”
Eisenberg countered with a Forearm Smash of her own, but the delivery was much softer than usual due to her compromised footing. Clayton smiled, pushed a little harder and was rewarded with the sight of Erika shifting her weight from foot to foot. Catching the German’s left hand in her right, Becky doubled down on the Knucklelock and craaaaaaaaaaanked until her opponent groaned low in the back of her throat. She held the crank for several more seconds before bringing their knotted hands back to high noon and bearing down with all her weight!
Erika cried out in surprise and dismay, but she managed to throw her left leg backward, bracing that foot like a kickstand. Pushing back against her hardbodied rival, Eisenberg went forehead to forehead with Clayton to sneer, “Another halfhearted show of strength. Exactly the sort of pathetic half-measure I’ve come to expect from a failure like--”
Becky went up on tiptoe and puuuuuuuushed down, an added strain that caused Erika to shake her head ‘no, no, no!’ The defiance ultimately meant nothing, even her wide stance wasn’t enough to keep Clayton from forcing the other blonde to her knees after several more seconds. “Did you really think I forgot about what you did to me four years ago? That I haven’t been waiting for the chance to--”
“Let me do it all over again?” the Sinuous Strangler fought through the pain to inflict her foe with a nasty smile. “Oh yes, Rebecca, I have no doubt you’ve been longing for this moment for a very long timEEERRRRHHHHHH!”
The Army Brat rolled her opponent’s wrists a third time, Eisenberg wailing in distress as Clayton folded her arms in on themselves. “Play all the games you want, bytch.” Bex’s voice was full of ice. “Nothing’s gonna stop me from leaving you flat on ba--”
She drew back abruptly when the penitent serpent craned her head forward, Eisenberg’s muzzle seeking the juncture of American thighs. Fuming at the memory of her utter humiliation at the end of their first encounter, Clayton pivoted her hips and THWHAPPED the broadside of her thigh up across Erika’s mug! “Don’t even f*cking think about it, EisenberRRRHHH BYTCH!” The Python Powerhouse couldn’t get to what she really wanted, so she settled for sinking her teeth into Becky’s thigh!
“Knock off the biting, Erika!” Al Carpenter barked at once.”
“Don’t worry Al, I got this.” Becky grunted. She pulled her gam away from Erika’s gnashing fangs, drew that foot back and-- “NNNNGGGGGHHH!”
Eisenberg lunged forward with her head lowered, all the better to drive the crown of her skull into Clayton’s groin! Becky’s hips shot back, the former World Champion almost doubled over in the wake of-- Erika slammed another battering ram Headbutt into her crotch to finally break the other blonde’s iron grip on her hands. Keeping her head tucked in the wake of her escape, Eisenberg wedged it between Clayton’s thighs, then braced her hands against the other blonde’s knees and straightened up fast to flip Becky over her head, the Camouflage Crusher landing flat on her butt with a heavy THUD!
Twisting around on one knee to sidle in behind her stunned opponent, Erika threaded her arms beneath Clayton’s biceps and locked her hands to secure the Full Nelson. “Mmmmmmhhhh… and just like that the salivating attack dog reveals herself as a quivering mouse.” Becky grimaced, tried to power free and had her chin forced deep into her own décolletage for the effort. “No, no, no, mousey. You’re not going anywhere until I’ve broken you all over again.”
“Nuuuuhhhh… didn’t break me the first time.” Clayton worked her shoulders up and down, the trapped grappler working hard to overcome Eisenberg’s trap. “You just pissed me ofFFEERRRRGGGHHH!”
Erika turned Becky onto her stomach in a single oft-practiced motion, threw a leg (her left) over Clayton’s prone frame and settled into a heavy seat hunched in the small of her back. Licking her lips as she craaaaaaaaaaanked back on the Full Nelson Clutch, Eisenberg wrenched her grip back & forth for perhaps five seconds before she brought it to a halt. Turning her attention to Al, she cooed, “Please ask my pet mouse if she’s through feeling rebellious.”
“What do you say, Becky?” the ref asked. “Need me to call for the bell? Just say the word and I’ll end--”
“NO!” Clayton waved a finger to second her point. “No, I don’t giv…. you nasty bytch, you’re going to pay for this.”
Erika, who’d shifted from the Nelson to a snug her left arm around the other blonde’s elbows and thus make possible a gaudy claw grip on Clayton’s right breast, stopped squeezing and began to swat the underside repeatedly. “Pay for what, mouse? For destroying the illusion that you were ever a legitimate threat inside this ring? Or for treating you to the greatest moment of ecstasy your banal little soul has ever known? Either answer strikes me as remarkably ungrateful.”
Becky bared her teeth in a furious snarl, the BFG simultaneously incensed and embarrassed to find herself coiled so thoroughly in the python’s clutches. “You’ll find out just what sort of a threat I am before this match is over, princess.” she promised. “And I’m going to find out what it feels like to have you mumbling against my camouflageeerrrrgghhhhhhh!”
Erika found the faintly-limned outline of Clayton’s right nipple, pinched it between thumb and forefinger and began to roll that sensitive flesh. Becky’s jaw clenched to stifle any more moans and the sudden silence brought a smile to Eisenberg’s lips. “Don’t think of it as pain, my little tin soldier.” she planted a light, albeit possessive kiss against her foe’s forehead. “Think of it as weakness leaving the body.” Erika paused, shifted her grip to Becky’s right nub and twisted it like a woman searching for a radio station at the other end of the dial. “Of course if this exodus is threatening to overwhelm, you could always cede these…” the blonde went back and forth between both nipples to make sure there was no misunderstanding, “…and the match, to me.”
Becky held her silence, perhaps the only response that was displeasing to her tormentor. “Answer me, mouse. I assure you this is only a small taste of what I can--”
The BFG shifted her weight left and brought her right leg skid-sliding forward, all the better to plant that knee on the mat. With one in place positioning the other was exponentially easier and now it was Eisenberg’s turn to be silent because the strain on her prey’s lower back was all but gone, though her arm control remained uncontested. Quick to quell any rebellion in her plaything, Erika released the pincer momentarily only to get an ‘oooooohhhhh!’ from the crowd when she slipped her hand beneath the U-shaped neckline of Clayton’s top. Twisting more energetically than ever, the Sinuous Strangler hissed, “I don’t believe I said anything about a change of venue, RebNO!”
Becky pushed up, wrenched her arms free of Erika’s clutches and strapped them around the German’s thighs. What’d once been a spine-bending Camel Clutch was now nothing more than an awkward piggyback ride and it got a lot less so when Clayton powered to boot-leather with a determined grunt. Understanding that her position was far more precarious following the loss of leverage, Eisenberg stretched her legs, crossed her ankles and squeeeeeeeeeeeezed like she meant to crack ribs and shift internal organs.
It was a vile constriction, the Python Powerhouse knew it as an undisputable fact, so imagine her distress when Becky only ‘hupped’ her a little higher and bolted toward the nearest corner. Far less willing to test her grip against a spine-first collision against the buckles, Erika swiftly removed her pincer from Clayton’s top and transformed it into a talon that she RAKED across her foe’s eyes! That slowed Becky to an immediate crawl and (far more importantly in Eisenberg’s estimation) freed her attacker’s legs from that snug bundle. Abandoning the Scissors to regain a perch on the mat, Erika snatched a huge double handful of Clayton’s hair and charged the rest of the way in, whereupon reaching she bwung-bwung-BWUUUNGED the Army Brat’s stinging face against the thinly-padded steel!
Erika fetched a sigh of relief when Bex sagged against the buckles, though the mere fact of her mouse’s uprising soon curdled this emotion into anger. Claw clamped down on opposing shoulder, Erika peeled the other blonde out of the corner, turned her in a half circle, then caught her cheeks between thumb and forefinger.
CRAAACK!
Eisenberg Bytch Slapped Becky’s tastebuds somewhere into the lower deck, Clayton’s head snapped to one side by the force of it. “Insolence will not be tolerated, mouse.” Erika explained once she’d caught a handful of hair to keep Becky from slumping back into the corner. Once that was clear she dipped down, threaded her right arm between the American’s thighs and muscled her onto her shoulders in a Fireman’s Carry.
The casual show of strength earned a grudging buzz of appreciation from the FAWNatics, a sound that grew far louder and more appreciative when Erika strolled to the center of the ring and began to spin. Slow to start, then faster and faster, the former Intercontinental Champion imposing her will on the former World Champion via an Airplane Spin that lasted for ten seconds and just as many rotations.
AIRPLANE SPIN:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=xdIcEIkv67c
Grinding to a halt with no sign of disorientation on her part, Eisenberg moved one hand to her rival’s chest, then rose up on tiptoe and slung Clayton off her shoulders for a swift, pitiless descent that ended with Bex’s abdomeNOOOO!”
The Camouflage Crusher got both hands against that posted joint and pushed off hard, which allowed her to land on her feet rather than gut-first atop that impaling knee. Her responses momentarily slowed by the unexpected counter, Erika was perhaps half a heartbeat slow in starting to rise, which meant Becky had more than enough time to cup the back of her head in both hands and THWHONK a Kneelift between her eyes! Eisenberg’s head rocked to one side, her knees went watery and she probably would’ve dropped to her tush if not for the other blonde’s clasp on her noggin. She was still fighting off the knee-induced dizziness when the BFG muscled her to verticality and swapped out her grip for an oh so snug Bear Hug.
“NNNNNNGGGGGGHHHHH!” Erika went up on tiptoe again, though this time it was an attempt to alleviate the crushing pressure. Chewing on her bottom lip, the German grappler raked her claws down Clayton’s back, then pushed at the mouse’s chin when this did no good. Bex shrugged loose, pulled Eisenberg’s svelte torso that much closer, then leaned in to whisper in her ear, making sure to gouge her chin into the side of Erika’s neck as she did so. “You already won a match inside my trunks, snake. It won’t happen again.”
Eisenberg sneered, tried to chew on her opponent’s cheek, but Clayton shoved her away with a miniature Headbutt, thus forcing the Python Powerhouse to settle for an admittedly anemic hair-pull. “Can you be so sure of that, soldier?” she huffed. “After all, you showed a similar confidence in our first meeting and I’m sure you remember how that WHOOOAANNNNNGGGHHH!”
Bex went low and popped her hips to take Erika up, over and DOWN with a thunderous Belly to Belly Suplex! Clayton didn’t release her grip on impact, in fact the Army Brat squeezed even tighter to make sure Eisenberg didn’t have an opportunity to slither free before she hauled ‘em both back to verticality. “Damned right I remember.” Becky agreed. “That’s why I didn’t bother going for a cover.” The explanation was barely out of her mouth when Clayton unleashed her second Suplex, the Black Court’s one-time Mistress at Arms putting serious emphasis on the overhead portion of Overhead Belly to Belly Suplex. The second landed as forcefully as the first, yet Bex still wasn’t satisfied, as evidenced by the way she got back to her feet without so much thinking about a cover. Turning a full circle at mid-ring to better show off Eisenberg’s increasingly rag-dolled frame, Clayton beamed into the other blonde’s grimacing features, then leaned and planted a kiss between her eyes. “Enjoy the ride, buttercup.” She got real low and rose up real high, all the better to hurl Erika to within spitting distance of the ropes with the third and final Belly to Belly Suplex.
HAT TRICK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=qKV8R_S1lQQ
Settled into a slouchy seat after that brutal Hat Trick, Eisenberg reached forward and grabbed the second strand only to cry out in distress when Clayton caught her under the armpits and dragged her back to the center of the squared circle! Erika protested this violation of protocol quite vehemently, alas there was nothing Carpenter could do about it and Becky wasn’t about to show any sort of leniency. Indeed, Eisenberg’s position grew all the more dire after Clayton hair-hauled her upright and slipped her left arm between the other Destroyer’s thighs. Muscling Erika across her chest like she little more than a bag of leaves, the Camouflage Crusher turned a full circle to show off her prize while regularly thum-thum-THUMPING Kneelifts into Erika’s exposed flank. These ceased after the first go ’round so Becky could pick up speed through a second and third rotation. She was moving at a mighty good clip when ground to a halt and let Eisenberg swing up and under her right arm, all the better to THWHAM her down flat on her back!
SWINGING SIDE SLAM:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=rLR-iXTiN7I
Erika bounced on impact and tumbled onto her belly, the leggy battler looking much more like a downed power-line than a dangerous constrictor at the moment. Bellowing with satisfaction as the crowd roared its approval, Clayton grabbed Erika and shoulder and knee and tugged her onto her back, not to go for a pin but to make sure the former Intercontinental Champion was in the best position after Bex ran the ropes and came back for a high vertical leap. Folding herself into a flying toe-touch as she reached her apex, the Army of One Hot Chick straightened out full-length, meaning every bit of her five foot eight inch frame was stretched taut as a bowstring when she SPLASHED down atop Eisenberg’s fluttering abdominals. Those stems bounced up showing all the danger of pool noodles, so Becky hooked ‘em both in a tight bundle and rolled into a Back Press good for…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
Erika pulled loose with half a second to spare and shot an arm off the mat just to make sure there was no mistake. That in itself proved questionable because the BFG caught hold of her wrist and used it to peel the woozy Destroyer off the canvas. Using that grip to drape the captured arm (Erika’s left) over her head, Becky bent down and hooked her right arm around Eisenberg’s left thigh, then another throaty roar of applause when she hoisted her burden skyward for a textbook Torture Rack!
TORTURE RACK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=S_6d2wAk6GM
Erika, who’d remained grimly silent through Clayton’s resurgence thus far, wailed to life as she was bent into an unpleasant arch that got deeper and deeper with each jostling bounce from the determined hardbody. “Give up!” Becky demanded after she’d ticked out an internal ten count. “Before I break your damn back!”
“NEVER!” Eisenberg balled her right hand into a fist and showed the crowd her middle finger to make sure their dim American brains understood her defiance. “You’ll break long before I do, mousEERRRGGHHH ARRR-RRRRR-RRRRRHHH!”
Clayton bounced that much harder, the Camouflage Crusher practically jumping in place as she tried to curl the Python Powerhouse in a perfect circle. But another ten seconds forced Becky to admit that Eisenberg wasn’t ready to raise the white flag, at least not quite yet. Didn’t mean she was getting off easy though, Erika wasn’t nearly so lucky. Pulling her left arm away from the other blonde’s chin, Clayton used her remaining hook to swing the Sinuous Strangler around into a damned fine approximation of a Powerbomb stall, one that grew even more convincing when Bex sat out on her butt and PLANTED Eisenberg against the thinly-sheathed plywood! Clayton threw her right leg over Erika’s left bicep soon as they touched down, and cinched both arms around that hooked left leg to keep her glued in place through…
RACK BOMB:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rfc_iyPCgrA
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
Erika didn’t kick out, rather she slopped onto her stomach, the twist of those serpentine hips enough to keep her in the match for another three seconds at least. Becky drew in a deep breath and let it out slow, then tucked some loose strands of hair behind her ears. It was all she could do to not pound a frustrated fist against the mat. “That was your last twitch, Cobra Commander.” she promised in the midst of filling her hands with Eisenberg’s battle damp tousle. “Tonight’s the night I tie you in a knot for good.”
This provoked no real reply from the taller wrestler, though she did ‘hurg’ in displeasure when Clayton wrapped her right hand around Erika’s throat. With Eisenberg’s right arm limp atop her own right shoulder, Becky reached behind and down, helping herself to a rough, possibly unnecessary handful of Erika’s waistband before hoisting those briefs and their occupant skyward for a ring-rattling Choke SlaNO!
The Constricting Carnivore jammed the point of her elbow into the crown of Clayton’s skull, an ungainly but effective dagger stroke that returned Eisenberg to the relative safety of verticality, albeit with the G.I. Goozle still in “RRRGGGHHHHH DAMMIT!” Scratch that, Erika achieved full freedom once she slashed her nails across the BFG’s unsuspecting eyes!
Al warned his charge about going for the eyes, but he might as well have been speaking into a dead phone for all the attention she paid him. No, all of Erika’s attention was on Becky, namely corralling her head in both hands so she could stuff it between her thighs for a crushing Scissors! “Really Rebecca, going for my trunks? I’d have thought you better than that.” Eisenberg sniffed as she undid the wedgie while simultaneously pouring it on to the American’s trapped noggin. “And if you WERE to inflict such a tacky indignity upon me, I’d have hoped you’d at least have the wherewithal to fully commit. Like this!” Erika slipped her fingers into the leg-holes of her opponent’s camouflage briefs and made a good three quarters of them disappear with a sawing, salacious wedgie that had Clayton up on tiptoe despite the pressure of those Scissors!
Obviously pleased by her prey’s embarrassed yelp, Eisenberg released the wedgie, leaned over and wrapped her arms around Becky’s midsection. Her first attempt to upend the other blonde sent a sharp jolt down Erika’s spine, thus forcing her to reset her footing. Teeth clenched, she muscled Clayton off her feet on the second try and made a point to hold her in place for a full five count in spite of the persistent ache in her lower back. Once there could be no question of her control she kicked one leg forward and simply dropped to her butt which in turn THWHUNKED Becky’s skull into the canvas! Clayton bounced loose and rolled to a seat, though she was summarily returned to the mat and covered by Eisenberg, the German making a point to press the full weight of her washboard abdominals across Becky’s pained countenance for the…
PILEDRIVER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=fhm28bF4zFQ
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
Erika hadn’t bothered to hook a leg and she paid for it with a near fall when Clayton simply shoved her out of the Crossbody. Disgusted by the useless resistance, Eisenberg pushed to one knee and glared at Carpenter, who repaid her previous dismissal with a slight shrug and two fingers. “We both know you’re finished.” Erika sneered to Becky once she’d collected the other blonde’s hair in a crude topknot. “Yet the things we know in our hearts often need more… official recognition, so let’s not waste time, shall we?”
Clayton pawed and shoved at German thighs, a feeble effort that earned her no additional breathing room before the Python Powerhouse scraped her off the mat. Pulling Bex into a Fireman’s Carry of her own earned another protesting pang from Eisenberg’s back, though she gamely ignored it while turning in a slow, domineering circle. “She will break.” Erika told the FAWNatics. “You all will bear witness. I will reap the rewards.”
With that she lifted Clayton off her shoulders and went down on one knee to ensure the former World Champion landed with all her weight across the unforgiving plank of Eisenberg’s thigh. Becky should’ve bounced away only Erika didn’t allow it, she caught her rival at thigh and shoulder and lifted her just high enough to turn her over. The subsequent Backbreaker didn’t have nearly the power of the Gutbuster, however the arrangement was far from painless because the Python Powerhouse cupped one hand over Bex’s chin and the other atop one knee so she could press down on both ends.
GUTBUSTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=S9sIJOXryvo
“Did you really think you could break me, mouse?” Eisenberg taunted the groaning lovely even as she jostled and bounced her on that impaling joint. “You have neither the wits, wiles or wherewithal to challenge my dominance. All you can have to offer is a particularly pleasurable brand of wriggling that elevates your mewling defeat to something almost sublimNGH!”
Clayton balled her left hand into a fist and drove it into Eisenberg’s lower back once, twice, thrice. Didn’t have the half the pop of her usual shots, but they landed with enough to curl the other blonde’s upper lip. Pulling her left hand away from the American’s thigh, Erika flattened it into a paddle and crack-crack-CRAAACKED Clayton’s bare belly before resuming the Backbreaker with all her previous vigor. “Stop wasting my time, mouse.” she demanded. “Admit your failure aloud or I’ll devour you all the sloweRRRRGGHHHHH!”
Becky pounded at the other blonde’s back a second time, then crooked that hand into a claw and affixed it to her attacker’s flank. “Hhhhrrrrr….aaaarrrrhhhh…. ask… ask her!” the Camouflage Crusher growled to Al as she tried to punch her fingers deep into that svelte European chassis.
“Are you out of your mind?” Eisenberg sneered. “You couldn’t glean a submission from me on my worst day, let alone when I hold the high grRRGGH-NGH! NGH! NNNNGGGHHH!”
Becky’s other hand flew up, buried itself in Eisenberg’s hair and yanked her head down a heartbeat before the BFG snapped her right knee up to THUMP against the German’s temple! The Python Powerhouse grimaced, tried to pull her head back and got reeled into two more Kneelifts instead. The last one put an end to the Backbreaker, though Eisenberg made the other blonde pay for it by lacing her hands together in a single fist which she promptly THWHUMPED into the pit of Clayton’s stomach.
Twining both hands in Bex’s hair as soon as the Yankee brat tumbled free of her knee, Erika scrubbed Clayton’s features against the mat for a few seconds, then stood up and hauled Becky to-- Eisenberg faltered, the former Intercontinental Champion forced to halve her grip so she could press a bracing hand to the small of her back. Composing herself in the span of heartbeats, Eisenberg finished returning Clayton to verticality so she could double down on the Wristlock and send her into the ropes with an Irish NO!
Becky dug in her heels and sent the Sinuous Strangler in her place, much to the delight of those assembled. Erika didn’t seem discomfited in the slightest, indeed several front row FAWNatics caught an icy smile on her lips in the instant before she bounced offa the ropes and raced back the way she’d came. With no more than three long strides between them, Eisenberg whipped her right leg up in a viper-fast arc, the Big Boot seeking the softest part of Clayton’s fa--“HHHHRRRGGGGGK!”
The Army of One Hot Chick pivoted to one side, an adjustment that let her avoid the boot and wrap her right hand around Eisenberg’s throat in a single stroke. Catching hold of her foe’s waistband in the same instant, Becky lifted her burden into the lights and simply tossed her down, Erika THAWHAMMING flat on her back! The Curvaceous Carnivore bounced to a slumped seat, stayed there for a moment, then collapsed onto her side, a position she occupied until Clayton tugged her onto her back so she could try for the…
CHOKE SLAM:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=AynGe_IxNRk
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
Eisenberg prized one long leg from Becky’s grip, it was just enough to keep her in the match without improving her situation in the slightest. Indeed, things got that much worse for Erika when the former World Champion regained her feet and forced her to do the same. Another rough Wristlock led to another Irish Whip, though there was no reversal and Eisenberg never reached the ropes. Reeling the Python Powerhouse in at the precise instant she should’ve been letting go, Bex spread welcoming arms wide, all the better to catch Eisenberg around the waist and spin her through a nauseating two-hundred and seventy degree whirl that left the German strapped across opposing shoulders in what would’ve been a Torture Rack if she wasn’t facing in the opposite direction.
The reverse angle wasn’t a mistake though, not with the smooth way Clayton collected Erika’s chin and shins to craaaaaaaaaaaaaaaank those opposite ends toward one another. Making a point to bump and grind the base of her skull against Eisenberg’s wounded lower back, Bex devoted herself to touching Erika’s toes to the top of her head while simultaneously executing a series of deep, DEEP Kneebends that looked like a madwoman powering through several squat reps.
ATLANTIDA BACKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fb2w1QRSZIk
“TAP!” Clayton roared at the top of her lungs. “TAP THE HELL OUT, EISENBERG!”
“NOOOOOOOOOO!” Eisenberg shrieked just as loudly. “YOU WON’T BREAK ME, MOUUUUGGGHHH!”
The BFG rose up on tiptoe and dropped to her knees, a short, albeit hellaciously impactful jolt that almost curled Erika into a perfect circle before she fell to the mat in a groaning tangle of constrictor flesh. The crowd begged Clayton to cover her foe, but the BFG only mopped a forearm across her brow en route to taking Eisenberg’s head in both hands. Regaining her feet in stages, Bex shrugged through a clench attempt from the Sinuous Strangler, then planted a Headbutt on the bridge of her nose to discourage another.
“You got it all wrong, Erika.” she rasped. “I don’t give a damn about BREAKING anything… I came out tonight to F*CK you up!”
Eisenberg didn’t respond, though she voiced a woozy little ‘ooofffhh’ when Clayton slipped an arm between her thighs and hupped her up onto one shoulder. Those assembled offered forgiveness for the denied cover as soon as the Camouflage Crusher gripped her blonde by the biceps and muscled her up into a brawny-strong Reverse Crucifix-lift.
“Nuuuhhh…no!” Erika shook her head frantically, the serpent’s usually strong frame reduced to a hapless dishrag in the clutches of the gorgeous G.I..
“Yeah, baby.” Becky grunted. “YEAH!” Clayton pulled her hands free only to lace them across the back of the other blonde’s noggin in a snug Three Quarters Facelock. Just like that she laid out on her back to THA-WHAM Eisenberg down flat on her face, chest and belly!
SNAFU:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=qUGrahob0jA
Transformed from constrictor to crater by the explosive power of the SNAFU, Erika offered only the softest of hisses when Becky rushed over and mounted her throat in a claustrophobic Schoolgirl Pin. Hooking Eisenberg’s knees even as slid her seat farther north, Clayton engulfed her rival in camouflage and leaaaaaaaaaned down until her forehead was no more than a whisper removed from the mat. There it stayed while Al Carpenter and the sold out crowd tallied…
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!
Becky released the Matchbook, leaving Erika to settle out flat while she straightened up and pressed her thighs together, effectively blotting out the loser’s insensate mug for the duration of the Announcer’s confirmation. “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner via pin-fall… BECKY CLAYTON!”
At the sound of her name Bex raised a perfect double biecp flex and bounced the tiniest bit. “You deserve a helluva lot more than a little preening.” Clayton told Eisenberg once she’d regained her footing. “But I’m no snake, I’m a soldier. And when the mission is done…it’s done.”
The BFG planted a boot on Erika’s chest and kept it there for several more bicep flexes. She was in fact, still enjoying the spoils of victory when the feed cut away to a hype video for FAWN’s ‘BEST OF 2019’ countdown special.
BECKY CLAYTON:
Becky Clayton strode up to the door to the Black Court’s sanctum sanctorum, paused, checked her watch yet again. Two fifty-seven meant that Emily and Lenore were either working out, breaking down some esoteric literary trend of centuries past or quite possibly both at the same time. The Camouflage Crusher took a deep breath, then rapped out a distinctive four-note knock to ensure any Courtiers within earshot knew she was one of them. Ceremony observed, she punched in the password on the keypad and stepped through when the door swung open. A quick glance around revealed no one in view, though she could hear the Black Queen and the Raven having an animated discussion from somewhere in the vicinity of the practice ring.
“Em? Len?” she called out. “Am I interrupting anything?”
“Not at all, Rebecca.” Emily replied at once. “Lenore is once again trying to convince me that Friday the13th should be included in the Gothic horror tradition and I, once again, am rebuking her at every opportunity.”
“She means to say she’s being mulish, Bex!” Lenore retorted. “Camp Crystal Lake is every bit as gothic a locale as Hill House or--”
“We can continue this later, Lenore.” Emily interrupted. “Something tells me Rebecca isn’t making a social call.”
“No worries, I can come back if--”
EMILY WEST:
LENORE LEMARCHAND:
Clayton quieted down when West and Lemarchand, each in strappy fightin’ one-pieces came around the corner with a towel slung over their shoulders. Nodding a greeting to her Master at Arms, Emily helped herself to a long pull from her water bottle, then settled in against the short row of lockers that separated the practice ring from the rest of their space. As for Lenore, she plopped down on a low wooden bench in front of the lockers and set about removing her boots.
“Is Sue around?” Becky asked. “I was hoping everyone would be here.”
The Raven shook her head ‘no’. “Burlingame’s somewhere in Ibiza, at least that’s what her last few tweets indicated. I get the impression she’s terrorizing the locals while searching for something to inspire her vengeance on a particular redheaded doctor who shall not be named.”
Bex nodded in understanding. She, more than anyone else in the Court, knew what it meant to want revenge on the Crimson Cagliostro. “Guess I’ll have to check with her later.” she said after a moment’s hesitation. “I just didn’t want her to pissed if I called dibs while she was gone.”
Emily raised one eyebrow ever so slightly, Lenore made no response at all. “Is that what you’re here for, Rebecca? Calling dibs?”
Bex nodded. “Assuming that neither of you have any designs on it, yes, I’m calling dibs.”
“Not me.” Lemarchand replied. “Last time I tried for the World Title it cost me a few months on the shelf. I don’t know what 2020 holds, but I’ve got no interest in the big gold belt.”
“And you, Em?” West considered for a moment. “I believe my days in search of the top prize are over, Rebecca. You’re more than welcome to invoke The Rule and you’ll have the Court’s full support throughout your campaign, however long it may last.”
“Then this is me officially declaring my intentions to pursue the FAWN World Championship.” Becky said. “I’ve owed Lisa Dream a reckoning for a long, loooooong time. I… I don’t wanna go down as the only one-night World Champ in FAWN history, Em. But I also don’t want…” Clayton fell silent as a troubled look passed across her face.
“Say what’s on your mind, Rebecca.” Emily prompted. “You never have to request permission to speak freely here.”
The BFG nodded but still took several seconds to collect her thoughts. “This place has been almost calm since we busted up Miranda’s creepy tent revival. Yeah, Portia’s popped up again, but she seems content to manage rather than wrestle. Amara and Alexis are dangerous of course, but they’re after gold, not conversion. They’re mercenaries at heart and you don’t-- you don’t need me for mercenaries.”
“On the contrary, Rebecca. You of all people are ideally suited to deal with such a threat, were they to become one.” Emily countered. “But this isn’t about The Gold Standard, is it? This is about the Black Court.”
“Yeah, it is. I told you I don’t want to be remembered as FAWN’s only one night World Champion. And you know me well enough to know I’ll do whatever it takes to put that title around my waist again. But if I can, no when I do, I don’t want there to be any asterisks next to my name.”
“Which is to say you don’t want anyone claiming you won it with Court assistance.” Lenore interjected.
“I want to do this by myself, Lenore. I need to do it by myself.” Becky murmured. “I guess I’m here to ask for my Honorable Discharge.”
“Did you really think there was a chance I wouldn’t grant such a request, Rebecca?” Emily asked. “You were a vital part in our war against Miranda and her followers. You’ve earned the right to do whatever you’d like, as far as I’m concerned. We’ll certainly miss your camaraderie, but I couldn’t in good conscience prevent you from achieving a career milestone in the fashion you wish to achieve it. What say you, Raven?”
“I say you know where we’ll be if you need back up.” the brunette replied. “And that I expect to be the first one you call when it’s time to mount The Dream’s crazy head over your fireplace.”
Becky smiled, an expression both surprised and relieved. “So I have your blessing?”
“Consider this conversation your discharge papers.” Emily confirmed. “Caveat. FAWN is enjoying a stretch of relative peace, yet if the proper threat arises I may call in the reserves, as it were. I hope we can count on you, should that day ever come.”
“Just make the call, Emily. I’ll be there on the run.”
The Black Queen smiled and extended a hand. “Go forth and do great things, Rebecca Clayton. I look forward to the fireworks of your heavy artillery.”
Becky shook her hand, pulled West into a quick hug. “Thank you. For everything, Em.”
Lenore moved in for her own embrace when Em and Bex drew apart. “Gonna miss you, soldier.” she said. “Dare I ask about your first target on this particular solo mission?”
“Erika Eisenberg.” Clayton answered at once. “Debt’s not as old as the one I owe Lisa, but it’s just as big, maybe even bigger.”
“Then go make the Constrictor a crater.” Emily advised. “Then pick another target and crater them. And then another and another, until the front office gives you the opportunity to bust Lisa’s bunker for good.”
Becky Clayton stepped back, clicked her heels together and offered her friends a crisp salute.
“Ma’am, yes ma’am.”
With that she spun around and strode out of the Court’s HQ to prepare for her match with the towering blonde.
When she was gone, Lenore said, “Ace, Queen and Raven makes three, but there’s an ocean between Susan and the FAWN Arena. Seems we might be a little short-handed, Emily.”
“Come now, Lenore.” the Black Queen smiled. “Our side may be many things, but it is never short-handed, despite appearances to the contrary.”
“I see. Anything you’d like to tell me?” “No need at this stage, as Rebecca noted, FAWN’s enjoying a hard-earned moment of peace. Should that change… well, the BFG is hardly the only name on my ‘reserve list’. That said, shall we resume our previous conversation?”
Lemarchand shook her head ‘no’. “Can’t. I’ve actually got the night off, so Kent and I are going to do some shopping, then grab dinner and see a revival of Black Christmas at the Enzian.”
“A suitably seasonable itinerary. We can pick this up whenever you’d like.”
“I AM right, you know.” Lemarchand grinned. “You just don’t want to admit it.”
“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about, Lenore.”
********
“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall with a twenty minute time limit. Introducing first, hailing from Berlin, Germany, she stands at five feet nine inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and forty pounds. She is the Constrictor Queen, the Sinuous Strangler… ERIKA EISENBERG!”
Her name was still ringing in the rafters when the houselights went down.
An unnatural air of trepidation fell about the arena, the tight confines suddenly claustrophobic, the slow creep of foreboding summoning a chill that was uncommon. A slim slit of crimson red illuminated through the curtains, the identity of the arriving competitor not a mystery and yet, from reputation and history, a palpable sense of unease gathered over those watching.
ERIKA EISENBERG:
Erika Eisenberg emerged amongst the stark and piercing beat of that opening rhythm, the melody as unsettling as it was threatening, the curvaceous carnivore striding with purpose, with desire, her pace unceasing and her gaze entrancing, ice blue and calculating, alluring... perilous...
Attired in the skin of a dead predator, the blonde Destroyer hugged tightly by the two-piece, dark tan, snakeskin top and slim line shorts, elbow long, fingerless gloves and knee high boots, she was every inch the Titan the FAWNatics remembered her to be. Slowly, with cold, methodical, malicious intent, she circled the ring, refusing to acknowledge the unsettled bystanders, that stare, that piercing, ravenous stare soaking in the ground upon which she would feed upon her would be rival.
Once the undisputed Queen of Misery, Eisenberg’s statuesque physique heralded an overriding sense of dread, of cold, malicious intent, every ounce and inch of that serpentine frame resonating an insatiable hunger that could not be slaked.
Suddenly, with a burst of speed, she all but leapt onto the apron, proceeding to almost effortlessly lift one long, stunningly powerful leg over the top rope, followed quickly by the other, a slight, mirthless smile finally rising to her coldly intense features.
That smallest of mirthless smiles remained upon her features as the houselights returned with agonizing slowness and she found her corner as though she owned it, her eyes unfaltering from the almost painfully young brunette opposite, the veteran, titanic blonde inhaling slowly… yet deeply in anticipation. She’d bent the dog-faced brat the first time they’d met. Tonight she would break her once and for all.
“And introducing her opponent, hailing from Denver, Colorado and stands at five feet eight inches tall and weighs in tonight at one hundred and thirty-five pounds. They call her the Peacekeeper, she is BECKY CLAYTON!”
WHITE FLAG:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=RWzZeA2GMsk
BECKY CLAYTON:
Those fans expecting ‘Heroes’ were surprised when a different tune hit the speakers. Took ‘em a moment to identify it as ‘White Flag’ by Bishop Briggs, a tune that seemed an especially apt anthem for the Army of One Hot Chick.
Take a hit, shoot me down, shoot me down
I won't ever hit the ground, hit the ground
Playing dead, I'll never do
Gotta keep an eye on you
Patience is wearing thin, paper thin
Promises broke again, what a sin
But it only feeds my energy
So don't expect no sympathy
Smoke, fire, it's all going up
Don't you know I ain't afraid to shed a little blood?
Smoke, fire, flares are going up, flares are going up
The chorus started in time with Clayton’s arrival, the BFG plowing through the curtains to take up residence center stage where she treated the FAWNatics to a grin and a brawny double bicep flex. For tonight‘s long awaited rematch with Eisenberg, the powerhouse blonde sported a black & green camouflage two-piece with tie-sided bottoms and an impossible to ignore ladder / double helix of lycra that ran from the top of her waistband all the way to the southern border of her low-cut sports bra. The gear was completed with flat black pads and boots and few wraps of dark green wrist-tape.
Smile fading as started down the ramp, Becky murmured, “Receipt comes due tonight, snake-bytch. I’m gonna de-fang ya, tie ya in a knot and leave what’s left for the vultures.” Promise made, Clayton zigzagged several times to make sure didn’t miss a single FAWNatic. Once that was done Becky bounded up the steel steps and leapt over the top rope in one effortless burst of kinetic energy. Coming to a stop in the center of the ring, Becky spun toward the hard camera and snapped off a crisp salute. Bolstered by a final wave of applause, the Camouflage Crusher fixed an icy glare on Eisenberg as she backed into the opposite corner where referee Al Carpenter made a quick check of her pads and boots.
Clayton and Eisenberg came out of their corners at the CLANG of the opening bell, each Destroyer looking for a notable victory to close out 2019 on a high note and usher in their respective campaigns for the following year.
Slowing as the distance closed, Erika looked her opponent up and down, that intense blue gaze scanning for some quality… or lack thereof, in tonight’s opposition. “Such a pity.” she said softly. “You finally muster enough initiative to break away from the Black Court and in your assignment sees you run afoul of a challenge that‘s already humbled you like no other. Such is the story of your career, is it not, Rebecca Clayton?”
Becky’s eyes narrowed and her shoulders bunched, though she did not advance on the former Intercontinental Champion. “You got three more chicks hiding behind you, Eisenberg?” she asked. “Because from where I’m standing I’ve got more than enough firepower to take you down.”
Erika arched a dubious eyebrow. “Is that so? Then perhaps you’d like to test your, ahem, armaments, against my own?” The sinewy blonde lifted her right arm high overhead, Eisenberg’s fingers twitching a secondary challenge to the Camouflage Crusher. More than happy to give Erika a taste of how her night would play out, Clayton stepped in close and pressed the palm of her left hand to Eisenberg’s right. Their fingers were still twining when Erika pressed the palm of her free hand to Becky’s mouth and pushed hard enough to swivel the American blonde’s head to one side. Clayton didn’t feel blood flow, yet she was fairly certain it’d been a narrow escape. The thought was still crossing her mind when Eisenberg brought that same hand up and over to CRAAACK Bex’s décolletage with a whistling Overhand Slap!
“Still following every order tossed your way, I see.” Erika sniffed. “No wonder you make such a good little dog-facNNNGGGH!”
The BFG smashed a short Headbutt into Eisenberg’s mouth, rocking the taller wrestler back on her heels without breaking the Knucklelock that kept them tethered. This was just as Clayton intended as it allowed her to tug Erika forward and THWHAP her modest assets with a clubbing Forearm Smash. Eisenberg grimaced, put a hand to her chest, then went up on tiptoes once Clayton brought the grip down to six o’clock and rolled Erika’s hand back on her wrist in a high stakes game of Mercy.
“What were you saying, E?” Becky asked with saccharine sweetness. “You were talking tuff, then started whimpering for some rea--”
Eisenberg countered with a Forearm Smash of her own, but the delivery was much softer than usual due to her compromised footing. Clayton smiled, pushed a little harder and was rewarded with the sight of Erika shifting her weight from foot to foot. Catching the German’s left hand in her right, Becky doubled down on the Knucklelock and craaaaaaaaaaanked until her opponent groaned low in the back of her throat. She held the crank for several more seconds before bringing their knotted hands back to high noon and bearing down with all her weight!
Erika cried out in surprise and dismay, but she managed to throw her left leg backward, bracing that foot like a kickstand. Pushing back against her hardbodied rival, Eisenberg went forehead to forehead with Clayton to sneer, “Another halfhearted show of strength. Exactly the sort of pathetic half-measure I’ve come to expect from a failure like--”
Becky went up on tiptoe and puuuuuuuushed down, an added strain that caused Erika to shake her head ‘no, no, no!’ The defiance ultimately meant nothing, even her wide stance wasn’t enough to keep Clayton from forcing the other blonde to her knees after several more seconds. “Did you really think I forgot about what you did to me four years ago? That I haven’t been waiting for the chance to--”
“Let me do it all over again?” the Sinuous Strangler fought through the pain to inflict her foe with a nasty smile. “Oh yes, Rebecca, I have no doubt you’ve been longing for this moment for a very long timEEERRRRHHHHHH!”
The Army Brat rolled her opponent’s wrists a third time, Eisenberg wailing in distress as Clayton folded her arms in on themselves. “Play all the games you want, bytch.” Bex’s voice was full of ice. “Nothing’s gonna stop me from leaving you flat on ba--”
She drew back abruptly when the penitent serpent craned her head forward, Eisenberg’s muzzle seeking the juncture of American thighs. Fuming at the memory of her utter humiliation at the end of their first encounter, Clayton pivoted her hips and THWHAPPED the broadside of her thigh up across Erika’s mug! “Don’t even f*cking think about it, EisenberRRRHHH BYTCH!” The Python Powerhouse couldn’t get to what she really wanted, so she settled for sinking her teeth into Becky’s thigh!
“Knock off the biting, Erika!” Al Carpenter barked at once.”
“Don’t worry Al, I got this.” Becky grunted. She pulled her gam away from Erika’s gnashing fangs, drew that foot back and-- “NNNNGGGGGHHH!”
Eisenberg lunged forward with her head lowered, all the better to drive the crown of her skull into Clayton’s groin! Becky’s hips shot back, the former World Champion almost doubled over in the wake of-- Erika slammed another battering ram Headbutt into her crotch to finally break the other blonde’s iron grip on her hands. Keeping her head tucked in the wake of her escape, Eisenberg wedged it between Clayton’s thighs, then braced her hands against the other blonde’s knees and straightened up fast to flip Becky over her head, the Camouflage Crusher landing flat on her butt with a heavy THUD!
Twisting around on one knee to sidle in behind her stunned opponent, Erika threaded her arms beneath Clayton’s biceps and locked her hands to secure the Full Nelson. “Mmmmmmhhhh… and just like that the salivating attack dog reveals herself as a quivering mouse.” Becky grimaced, tried to power free and had her chin forced deep into her own décolletage for the effort. “No, no, no, mousey. You’re not going anywhere until I’ve broken you all over again.”
“Nuuuuhhhh… didn’t break me the first time.” Clayton worked her shoulders up and down, the trapped grappler working hard to overcome Eisenberg’s trap. “You just pissed me ofFFEERRRRGGGHHH!”
Erika turned Becky onto her stomach in a single oft-practiced motion, threw a leg (her left) over Clayton’s prone frame and settled into a heavy seat hunched in the small of her back. Licking her lips as she craaaaaaaaaaanked back on the Full Nelson Clutch, Eisenberg wrenched her grip back & forth for perhaps five seconds before she brought it to a halt. Turning her attention to Al, she cooed, “Please ask my pet mouse if she’s through feeling rebellious.”
“What do you say, Becky?” the ref asked. “Need me to call for the bell? Just say the word and I’ll end--”
“NO!” Clayton waved a finger to second her point. “No, I don’t giv…. you nasty bytch, you’re going to pay for this.”
Erika, who’d shifted from the Nelson to a snug her left arm around the other blonde’s elbows and thus make possible a gaudy claw grip on Clayton’s right breast, stopped squeezing and began to swat the underside repeatedly. “Pay for what, mouse? For destroying the illusion that you were ever a legitimate threat inside this ring? Or for treating you to the greatest moment of ecstasy your banal little soul has ever known? Either answer strikes me as remarkably ungrateful.”
Becky bared her teeth in a furious snarl, the BFG simultaneously incensed and embarrassed to find herself coiled so thoroughly in the python’s clutches. “You’ll find out just what sort of a threat I am before this match is over, princess.” she promised. “And I’m going to find out what it feels like to have you mumbling against my camouflageeerrrrgghhhhhhh!”
Erika found the faintly-limned outline of Clayton’s right nipple, pinched it between thumb and forefinger and began to roll that sensitive flesh. Becky’s jaw clenched to stifle any more moans and the sudden silence brought a smile to Eisenberg’s lips. “Don’t think of it as pain, my little tin soldier.” she planted a light, albeit possessive kiss against her foe’s forehead. “Think of it as weakness leaving the body.” Erika paused, shifted her grip to Becky’s right nub and twisted it like a woman searching for a radio station at the other end of the dial. “Of course if this exodus is threatening to overwhelm, you could always cede these…” the blonde went back and forth between both nipples to make sure there was no misunderstanding, “…and the match, to me.”
Becky held her silence, perhaps the only response that was displeasing to her tormentor. “Answer me, mouse. I assure you this is only a small taste of what I can--”
The BFG shifted her weight left and brought her right leg skid-sliding forward, all the better to plant that knee on the mat. With one in place positioning the other was exponentially easier and now it was Eisenberg’s turn to be silent because the strain on her prey’s lower back was all but gone, though her arm control remained uncontested. Quick to quell any rebellion in her plaything, Erika released the pincer momentarily only to get an ‘oooooohhhhh!’ from the crowd when she slipped her hand beneath the U-shaped neckline of Clayton’s top. Twisting more energetically than ever, the Sinuous Strangler hissed, “I don’t believe I said anything about a change of venue, RebNO!”
Becky pushed up, wrenched her arms free of Erika’s clutches and strapped them around the German’s thighs. What’d once been a spine-bending Camel Clutch was now nothing more than an awkward piggyback ride and it got a lot less so when Clayton powered to boot-leather with a determined grunt. Understanding that her position was far more precarious following the loss of leverage, Eisenberg stretched her legs, crossed her ankles and squeeeeeeeeeeeezed like she meant to crack ribs and shift internal organs.
It was a vile constriction, the Python Powerhouse knew it as an undisputable fact, so imagine her distress when Becky only ‘hupped’ her a little higher and bolted toward the nearest corner. Far less willing to test her grip against a spine-first collision against the buckles, Erika swiftly removed her pincer from Clayton’s top and transformed it into a talon that she RAKED across her foe’s eyes! That slowed Becky to an immediate crawl and (far more importantly in Eisenberg’s estimation) freed her attacker’s legs from that snug bundle. Abandoning the Scissors to regain a perch on the mat, Erika snatched a huge double handful of Clayton’s hair and charged the rest of the way in, whereupon reaching she bwung-bwung-BWUUUNGED the Army Brat’s stinging face against the thinly-padded steel!
Erika fetched a sigh of relief when Bex sagged against the buckles, though the mere fact of her mouse’s uprising soon curdled this emotion into anger. Claw clamped down on opposing shoulder, Erika peeled the other blonde out of the corner, turned her in a half circle, then caught her cheeks between thumb and forefinger.
CRAAACK!
Eisenberg Bytch Slapped Becky’s tastebuds somewhere into the lower deck, Clayton’s head snapped to one side by the force of it. “Insolence will not be tolerated, mouse.” Erika explained once she’d caught a handful of hair to keep Becky from slumping back into the corner. Once that was clear she dipped down, threaded her right arm between the American’s thighs and muscled her onto her shoulders in a Fireman’s Carry.
The casual show of strength earned a grudging buzz of appreciation from the FAWNatics, a sound that grew far louder and more appreciative when Erika strolled to the center of the ring and began to spin. Slow to start, then faster and faster, the former Intercontinental Champion imposing her will on the former World Champion via an Airplane Spin that lasted for ten seconds and just as many rotations.
AIRPLANE SPIN:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=xdIcEIkv67c
Grinding to a halt with no sign of disorientation on her part, Eisenberg moved one hand to her rival’s chest, then rose up on tiptoe and slung Clayton off her shoulders for a swift, pitiless descent that ended with Bex’s abdomeNOOOO!”
The Camouflage Crusher got both hands against that posted joint and pushed off hard, which allowed her to land on her feet rather than gut-first atop that impaling knee. Her responses momentarily slowed by the unexpected counter, Erika was perhaps half a heartbeat slow in starting to rise, which meant Becky had more than enough time to cup the back of her head in both hands and THWHONK a Kneelift between her eyes! Eisenberg’s head rocked to one side, her knees went watery and she probably would’ve dropped to her tush if not for the other blonde’s clasp on her noggin. She was still fighting off the knee-induced dizziness when the BFG muscled her to verticality and swapped out her grip for an oh so snug Bear Hug.
“NNNNNNGGGGGGHHHHH!” Erika went up on tiptoe again, though this time it was an attempt to alleviate the crushing pressure. Chewing on her bottom lip, the German grappler raked her claws down Clayton’s back, then pushed at the mouse’s chin when this did no good. Bex shrugged loose, pulled Eisenberg’s svelte torso that much closer, then leaned in to whisper in her ear, making sure to gouge her chin into the side of Erika’s neck as she did so. “You already won a match inside my trunks, snake. It won’t happen again.”
Eisenberg sneered, tried to chew on her opponent’s cheek, but Clayton shoved her away with a miniature Headbutt, thus forcing the Python Powerhouse to settle for an admittedly anemic hair-pull. “Can you be so sure of that, soldier?” she huffed. “After all, you showed a similar confidence in our first meeting and I’m sure you remember how that WHOOOAANNNNNGGGHHH!”
Bex went low and popped her hips to take Erika up, over and DOWN with a thunderous Belly to Belly Suplex! Clayton didn’t release her grip on impact, in fact the Army Brat squeezed even tighter to make sure Eisenberg didn’t have an opportunity to slither free before she hauled ‘em both back to verticality. “Damned right I remember.” Becky agreed. “That’s why I didn’t bother going for a cover.” The explanation was barely out of her mouth when Clayton unleashed her second Suplex, the Black Court’s one-time Mistress at Arms putting serious emphasis on the overhead portion of Overhead Belly to Belly Suplex. The second landed as forcefully as the first, yet Bex still wasn’t satisfied, as evidenced by the way she got back to her feet without so much thinking about a cover. Turning a full circle at mid-ring to better show off Eisenberg’s increasingly rag-dolled frame, Clayton beamed into the other blonde’s grimacing features, then leaned and planted a kiss between her eyes. “Enjoy the ride, buttercup.” She got real low and rose up real high, all the better to hurl Erika to within spitting distance of the ropes with the third and final Belly to Belly Suplex.
HAT TRICK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=qKV8R_S1lQQ
Settled into a slouchy seat after that brutal Hat Trick, Eisenberg reached forward and grabbed the second strand only to cry out in distress when Clayton caught her under the armpits and dragged her back to the center of the squared circle! Erika protested this violation of protocol quite vehemently, alas there was nothing Carpenter could do about it and Becky wasn’t about to show any sort of leniency. Indeed, Eisenberg’s position grew all the more dire after Clayton hair-hauled her upright and slipped her left arm between the other Destroyer’s thighs. Muscling Erika across her chest like she little more than a bag of leaves, the Camouflage Crusher turned a full circle to show off her prize while regularly thum-thum-THUMPING Kneelifts into Erika’s exposed flank. These ceased after the first go ’round so Becky could pick up speed through a second and third rotation. She was moving at a mighty good clip when ground to a halt and let Eisenberg swing up and under her right arm, all the better to THWHAM her down flat on her back!
SWINGING SIDE SLAM:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=rLR-iXTiN7I
Erika bounced on impact and tumbled onto her belly, the leggy battler looking much more like a downed power-line than a dangerous constrictor at the moment. Bellowing with satisfaction as the crowd roared its approval, Clayton grabbed Erika and shoulder and knee and tugged her onto her back, not to go for a pin but to make sure the former Intercontinental Champion was in the best position after Bex ran the ropes and came back for a high vertical leap. Folding herself into a flying toe-touch as she reached her apex, the Army of One Hot Chick straightened out full-length, meaning every bit of her five foot eight inch frame was stretched taut as a bowstring when she SPLASHED down atop Eisenberg’s fluttering abdominals. Those stems bounced up showing all the danger of pool noodles, so Becky hooked ‘em both in a tight bundle and rolled into a Back Press good for…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
Erika pulled loose with half a second to spare and shot an arm off the mat just to make sure there was no mistake. That in itself proved questionable because the BFG caught hold of her wrist and used it to peel the woozy Destroyer off the canvas. Using that grip to drape the captured arm (Erika’s left) over her head, Becky bent down and hooked her right arm around Eisenberg’s left thigh, then another throaty roar of applause when she hoisted her burden skyward for a textbook Torture Rack!
TORTURE RACK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=S_6d2wAk6GM
Erika, who’d remained grimly silent through Clayton’s resurgence thus far, wailed to life as she was bent into an unpleasant arch that got deeper and deeper with each jostling bounce from the determined hardbody. “Give up!” Becky demanded after she’d ticked out an internal ten count. “Before I break your damn back!”
“NEVER!” Eisenberg balled her right hand into a fist and showed the crowd her middle finger to make sure their dim American brains understood her defiance. “You’ll break long before I do, mousEERRRGGHHH ARRR-RRRRR-RRRRRHHH!”
Clayton bounced that much harder, the Camouflage Crusher practically jumping in place as she tried to curl the Python Powerhouse in a perfect circle. But another ten seconds forced Becky to admit that Eisenberg wasn’t ready to raise the white flag, at least not quite yet. Didn’t mean she was getting off easy though, Erika wasn’t nearly so lucky. Pulling her left arm away from the other blonde’s chin, Clayton used her remaining hook to swing the Sinuous Strangler around into a damned fine approximation of a Powerbomb stall, one that grew even more convincing when Bex sat out on her butt and PLANTED Eisenberg against the thinly-sheathed plywood! Clayton threw her right leg over Erika’s left bicep soon as they touched down, and cinched both arms around that hooked left leg to keep her glued in place through…
RACK BOMB:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rfc_iyPCgrA
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
Erika didn’t kick out, rather she slopped onto her stomach, the twist of those serpentine hips enough to keep her in the match for another three seconds at least. Becky drew in a deep breath and let it out slow, then tucked some loose strands of hair behind her ears. It was all she could do to not pound a frustrated fist against the mat. “That was your last twitch, Cobra Commander.” she promised in the midst of filling her hands with Eisenberg’s battle damp tousle. “Tonight’s the night I tie you in a knot for good.”
This provoked no real reply from the taller wrestler, though she did ‘hurg’ in displeasure when Clayton wrapped her right hand around Erika’s throat. With Eisenberg’s right arm limp atop her own right shoulder, Becky reached behind and down, helping herself to a rough, possibly unnecessary handful of Erika’s waistband before hoisting those briefs and their occupant skyward for a ring-rattling Choke SlaNO!
The Constricting Carnivore jammed the point of her elbow into the crown of Clayton’s skull, an ungainly but effective dagger stroke that returned Eisenberg to the relative safety of verticality, albeit with the G.I. Goozle still in “RRRGGGHHHHH DAMMIT!” Scratch that, Erika achieved full freedom once she slashed her nails across the BFG’s unsuspecting eyes!
Al warned his charge about going for the eyes, but he might as well have been speaking into a dead phone for all the attention she paid him. No, all of Erika’s attention was on Becky, namely corralling her head in both hands so she could stuff it between her thighs for a crushing Scissors! “Really Rebecca, going for my trunks? I’d have thought you better than that.” Eisenberg sniffed as she undid the wedgie while simultaneously pouring it on to the American’s trapped noggin. “And if you WERE to inflict such a tacky indignity upon me, I’d have hoped you’d at least have the wherewithal to fully commit. Like this!” Erika slipped her fingers into the leg-holes of her opponent’s camouflage briefs and made a good three quarters of them disappear with a sawing, salacious wedgie that had Clayton up on tiptoe despite the pressure of those Scissors!
Obviously pleased by her prey’s embarrassed yelp, Eisenberg released the wedgie, leaned over and wrapped her arms around Becky’s midsection. Her first attempt to upend the other blonde sent a sharp jolt down Erika’s spine, thus forcing her to reset her footing. Teeth clenched, she muscled Clayton off her feet on the second try and made a point to hold her in place for a full five count in spite of the persistent ache in her lower back. Once there could be no question of her control she kicked one leg forward and simply dropped to her butt which in turn THWHUNKED Becky’s skull into the canvas! Clayton bounced loose and rolled to a seat, though she was summarily returned to the mat and covered by Eisenberg, the German making a point to press the full weight of her washboard abdominals across Becky’s pained countenance for the…
PILEDRIVER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=fhm28bF4zFQ
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
Erika hadn’t bothered to hook a leg and she paid for it with a near fall when Clayton simply shoved her out of the Crossbody. Disgusted by the useless resistance, Eisenberg pushed to one knee and glared at Carpenter, who repaid her previous dismissal with a slight shrug and two fingers. “We both know you’re finished.” Erika sneered to Becky once she’d collected the other blonde’s hair in a crude topknot. “Yet the things we know in our hearts often need more… official recognition, so let’s not waste time, shall we?”
Clayton pawed and shoved at German thighs, a feeble effort that earned her no additional breathing room before the Python Powerhouse scraped her off the mat. Pulling Bex into a Fireman’s Carry of her own earned another protesting pang from Eisenberg’s back, though she gamely ignored it while turning in a slow, domineering circle. “She will break.” Erika told the FAWNatics. “You all will bear witness. I will reap the rewards.”
With that she lifted Clayton off her shoulders and went down on one knee to ensure the former World Champion landed with all her weight across the unforgiving plank of Eisenberg’s thigh. Becky should’ve bounced away only Erika didn’t allow it, she caught her rival at thigh and shoulder and lifted her just high enough to turn her over. The subsequent Backbreaker didn’t have nearly the power of the Gutbuster, however the arrangement was far from painless because the Python Powerhouse cupped one hand over Bex’s chin and the other atop one knee so she could press down on both ends.
GUTBUSTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=S9sIJOXryvo
“Did you really think you could break me, mouse?” Eisenberg taunted the groaning lovely even as she jostled and bounced her on that impaling joint. “You have neither the wits, wiles or wherewithal to challenge my dominance. All you can have to offer is a particularly pleasurable brand of wriggling that elevates your mewling defeat to something almost sublimNGH!”
Clayton balled her left hand into a fist and drove it into Eisenberg’s lower back once, twice, thrice. Didn’t have the half the pop of her usual shots, but they landed with enough to curl the other blonde’s upper lip. Pulling her left hand away from the American’s thigh, Erika flattened it into a paddle and crack-crack-CRAAACKED Clayton’s bare belly before resuming the Backbreaker with all her previous vigor. “Stop wasting my time, mouse.” she demanded. “Admit your failure aloud or I’ll devour you all the sloweRRRRGGHHHHH!”
Becky pounded at the other blonde’s back a second time, then crooked that hand into a claw and affixed it to her attacker’s flank. “Hhhhrrrrr….aaaarrrrhhhh…. ask… ask her!” the Camouflage Crusher growled to Al as she tried to punch her fingers deep into that svelte European chassis.
“Are you out of your mind?” Eisenberg sneered. “You couldn’t glean a submission from me on my worst day, let alone when I hold the high grRRGGH-NGH! NGH! NNNNGGGHHH!”
Becky’s other hand flew up, buried itself in Eisenberg’s hair and yanked her head down a heartbeat before the BFG snapped her right knee up to THUMP against the German’s temple! The Python Powerhouse grimaced, tried to pull her head back and got reeled into two more Kneelifts instead. The last one put an end to the Backbreaker, though Eisenberg made the other blonde pay for it by lacing her hands together in a single fist which she promptly THWHUMPED into the pit of Clayton’s stomach.
Twining both hands in Bex’s hair as soon as the Yankee brat tumbled free of her knee, Erika scrubbed Clayton’s features against the mat for a few seconds, then stood up and hauled Becky to-- Eisenberg faltered, the former Intercontinental Champion forced to halve her grip so she could press a bracing hand to the small of her back. Composing herself in the span of heartbeats, Eisenberg finished returning Clayton to verticality so she could double down on the Wristlock and send her into the ropes with an Irish NO!
Becky dug in her heels and sent the Sinuous Strangler in her place, much to the delight of those assembled. Erika didn’t seem discomfited in the slightest, indeed several front row FAWNatics caught an icy smile on her lips in the instant before she bounced offa the ropes and raced back the way she’d came. With no more than three long strides between them, Eisenberg whipped her right leg up in a viper-fast arc, the Big Boot seeking the softest part of Clayton’s fa--“HHHHRRRGGGGGK!”
The Army of One Hot Chick pivoted to one side, an adjustment that let her avoid the boot and wrap her right hand around Eisenberg’s throat in a single stroke. Catching hold of her foe’s waistband in the same instant, Becky lifted her burden into the lights and simply tossed her down, Erika THAWHAMMING flat on her back! The Curvaceous Carnivore bounced to a slumped seat, stayed there for a moment, then collapsed onto her side, a position she occupied until Clayton tugged her onto her back so she could try for the…
CHOKE SLAM:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=AynGe_IxNRk
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
Eisenberg prized one long leg from Becky’s grip, it was just enough to keep her in the match without improving her situation in the slightest. Indeed, things got that much worse for Erika when the former World Champion regained her feet and forced her to do the same. Another rough Wristlock led to another Irish Whip, though there was no reversal and Eisenberg never reached the ropes. Reeling the Python Powerhouse in at the precise instant she should’ve been letting go, Bex spread welcoming arms wide, all the better to catch Eisenberg around the waist and spin her through a nauseating two-hundred and seventy degree whirl that left the German strapped across opposing shoulders in what would’ve been a Torture Rack if she wasn’t facing in the opposite direction.
The reverse angle wasn’t a mistake though, not with the smooth way Clayton collected Erika’s chin and shins to craaaaaaaaaaaaaaaank those opposite ends toward one another. Making a point to bump and grind the base of her skull against Eisenberg’s wounded lower back, Bex devoted herself to touching Erika’s toes to the top of her head while simultaneously executing a series of deep, DEEP Kneebends that looked like a madwoman powering through several squat reps.
ATLANTIDA BACKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fb2w1QRSZIk
“TAP!” Clayton roared at the top of her lungs. “TAP THE HELL OUT, EISENBERG!”
“NOOOOOOOOOO!” Eisenberg shrieked just as loudly. “YOU WON’T BREAK ME, MOUUUUGGGHHH!”
The BFG rose up on tiptoe and dropped to her knees, a short, albeit hellaciously impactful jolt that almost curled Erika into a perfect circle before she fell to the mat in a groaning tangle of constrictor flesh. The crowd begged Clayton to cover her foe, but the BFG only mopped a forearm across her brow en route to taking Eisenberg’s head in both hands. Regaining her feet in stages, Bex shrugged through a clench attempt from the Sinuous Strangler, then planted a Headbutt on the bridge of her nose to discourage another.
“You got it all wrong, Erika.” she rasped. “I don’t give a damn about BREAKING anything… I came out tonight to F*CK you up!”
Eisenberg didn’t respond, though she voiced a woozy little ‘ooofffhh’ when Clayton slipped an arm between her thighs and hupped her up onto one shoulder. Those assembled offered forgiveness for the denied cover as soon as the Camouflage Crusher gripped her blonde by the biceps and muscled her up into a brawny-strong Reverse Crucifix-lift.
“Nuuuhhh…no!” Erika shook her head frantically, the serpent’s usually strong frame reduced to a hapless dishrag in the clutches of the gorgeous G.I..
“Yeah, baby.” Becky grunted. “YEAH!” Clayton pulled her hands free only to lace them across the back of the other blonde’s noggin in a snug Three Quarters Facelock. Just like that she laid out on her back to THA-WHAM Eisenberg down flat on her face, chest and belly!
SNAFU:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=qUGrahob0jA
Transformed from constrictor to crater by the explosive power of the SNAFU, Erika offered only the softest of hisses when Becky rushed over and mounted her throat in a claustrophobic Schoolgirl Pin. Hooking Eisenberg’s knees even as slid her seat farther north, Clayton engulfed her rival in camouflage and leaaaaaaaaaned down until her forehead was no more than a whisper removed from the mat. There it stayed while Al Carpenter and the sold out crowd tallied…
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!
Becky released the Matchbook, leaving Erika to settle out flat while she straightened up and pressed her thighs together, effectively blotting out the loser’s insensate mug for the duration of the Announcer’s confirmation. “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner via pin-fall… BECKY CLAYTON!”
At the sound of her name Bex raised a perfect double biecp flex and bounced the tiniest bit. “You deserve a helluva lot more than a little preening.” Clayton told Eisenberg once she’d regained her footing. “But I’m no snake, I’m a soldier. And when the mission is done…it’s done.”
The BFG planted a boot on Erika’s chest and kept it there for several more bicep flexes. She was in fact, still enjoying the spoils of victory when the feed cut away to a hype video for FAWN’s ‘BEST OF 2019’ countdown special.
