Post by hawkeye on Jun 11, 2020 1:16:59 GMT
It’s time for Mayhem, and no one is embracing it more than the rowdy, jam-packed crowd of FAWNatics cheering and yelling enthusiastically. Signs and banners flutter throughout the crowd as the fans come off their seats in anticipation of the upcoming match. A raucous round of excited shouts echo through the arena as the speakers crackle, but those shouts are silenced almost immediately as the lights shift and smoke begins to roll across the stage like a fog.
On the FAWNtron the arid image of a desert scene is quickly filled by time-lapse growth of Desert Flowers. The fans are put in the mind of a Bazaar in Morocco by the unmistakable music that heralds the arrival of the Desert Flower.
Desert Ecstasy:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=EgDIUNOV6dI
Desert Ecstasy is exactly what the Jewel of Jordan is. The arena darkened and colored lights swing around wildly and, emerging from a puff cloud of smoke, the Desert Flower, Princess Alia Saad member of the royal family of Jordan, appears on the stage. For her battle tonight, Alia’s shapely frame was clad in a brown bikini with Arabic scrolled on the seat of her bottoms in a deep, arterial red. Her pads are a similar red, as are her boots with Arabic scrolled along the side. The Desert Flower ignores the jeers and boos of the fans as they are the common rabble beneath her station.
The Ring Announcer makes the introduction, “From Amman, Jordan…She stands 5 foot 3 inches tall and weighs in tonight at 121 pounds…She is the Jewel of Jordan…The Desert Flower…ALIA SAAD!”
ALIA SAAD:
The Arabian beauty’s hips swaying and bosom jiggling as she makes her way down the ramp. Fans hold signs out, taunting the Desert Flower, "Where you been?", but still the Jordanian gives no sign she’s even aware the masses are in attendance. Alia’s dark eyes locked on the ring as she makes a lap around the ring, her pace measured and calm, but not slow. Her long dark hair hangs loose over her shoulders. She finishes her lap and only now turns to the FAWNatics and gives them a dismissive smirk.
Climbing the steps to the ring apron Alia wipes her boots as she moves to the center of the near side and waits. The referee for tonight, Al Carpenter, gives up immediately and moves over holding the ropes open, allowing the Princess to slide through. No salutes or wild gyrations from the Desert Flower, she’s not here to impress anyone, but just the image of the olive-skinned beauty does impress many of the FAWNatics. Walking to her corner the brunette checks her own gear and leans against the turnbuckles waiting to give the rookie infidel in FAWN a beating she won’t soon forget.
Speaking of said rookie, the speakers spark to life and a bouncing, peppy beat fills the arena, as the FAWNtron fills with the colors of the Puerto Rican flag before exploding into digital fireworks.
SOY YO:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=bxWxXncl53U
As Alia’s opponent bursts into the view, the announcer’s voice booms across the arena. “Annnnd her opponent, from Bayamón, Puerto Rico… at 5 foot 4 inches and 136 pounds… the Puerto Rican Spitfire… ALEJANDRA ALICEA!”
ALEJANDRA ALICEA:
The song’s bouncing beat gets the FAWNatics on their feet as a peppy Latina plunges through the curtains and into the spotlight. The crowd lets out a cheer as Alejandra Alicea spreads her muscular arms out to the crowd. The bronze-skinned woman shakes out her silky black hair as she takes a moment to drink in the energy of the fans, and likewise, they get a moment to appreciate every inch of soft curves mixed with hard, chiseled muscle.
And they certainly get that chance. Alejandra’s ring gear shows off that body to devastating effect. A halter-type style sports top hugs her breasts with the motif of the Puerto Rican flag while highlighting her sculpted back and shoulders, high-cut blue Lycra shorts not only show off her washboard abs but powerful legs, and short wrestling boots, one red and one white, don’t obscure an inch of her rock-hard calves.
Alejandra’s smile broadens despite the reputation of her opponent tonight, and so she begins a brisque jog to the ring. As she gracefully makes her way to the ring, she claps hands with as many FAWNatics as she can before hitting ringside. With a swift hop, she ascends to the apron, then climbs up the ring post to the second turnbuckle. Alejandra takes an extra moment from that height to beam out at the crowd before flexing one chiseled bicep, a show that elicits a few catcalls and whistles, before hopping over the top rope and into the ring.
The moment she hits the canvas, her eyes grow intense as she stretches out against the ring ropes. She never takes her eyes off the Desert Flower across the ring from her while Al checks her gear for foreign objects. As for Alia, she has much the same attitude, but the flash in her eyes is one of a princess looking down at a peasant and not a fighter looking at a dangerous opponent.
As the bell rings, both wrestlers come out of their corners, but again, they move with two very different attitudes as the fans quiet to a low rumble in anticipation. Alejandra’s jaw is set and her stance is low and ready to lock up, while Alia almost sashays to the center of the ring with an almost imperial bearing. Despite the fact that Alicea is a smidge taller, Saad somehow manages to look down on the Latina as they get close to one another.
It is that which seems to get Alejandra’s attention, and she slows her advance when the Arab girl doesn’t shit into a fighting stance. As she straightens up a little, she quirks an eyebrow. “Hoy, princess, are you here to fight or--?”
The question is abruptly interrupted by not just a snort of derision from the Desert Flower, but the sudden blur of her hand as it rockets outward. For a split-second, the arena is struck silent by the tremendous, echoing sound of Alia’s savage, open-handed slap right across Alejandra’s breasts. The meaty thwack of flesh-on-flesh is only matched by the seething hiss that the painful impact pulls from the proud Puerto Rican. While she manages to avoid giving the Arab beauty the satisfaction of an actual howl of pain, the impact is jarring and surprising enough to send her turning back a half step, one hand going protectively to her well-endowed chest.
“How dare you address me in such a casual fashion?” the Jordanian noblewoman calls out, her lip curled and her nose up. “Don’t think I haven’t done my research, enough to know that you are nothing but low-brow peasantry, fresh meat to toss to the desert hyena.”
Though a chorus of boos from the FAWN faithful begins to rise up, Alia doesn’t seem to care as she looks set to continue her rant with barely a care towards her opponent. The pain and surprise on Alejandra’s face, however, rapidly morphs into fury, her chiseled muscles tensing as her free hand clenches into a fist.
“You would do best to just lie down and let me have my way with you,” Alia rants on, one hand on her shapely hips. “If you prostrate yourself properly, I do believe I have use of a maid or servant or the like. That is what you do, isn’t--”
That’s when Alia tilted her glittering eyes down to her soon-to-be-groveling foe… and right into the huge forearm that Alejandra sent rocketing towards the Desert Flower’s chest. Backed by a combination of the petite powerhouse’s anger and muscle, Saad lets out a gasp of pain as she’s knocked stumbling backward.
“Shut it, you stuck-up puta!” the Spitfire roars as she follows the hit by rushing forward.
As Alia tries to regain her balance from the powerful impact, Alejandra is on her, slamming into the Arab chest-to-chest. With her superior mass and strength, she bulls the Desert Flower into the ropes, which she uses as an opening to lay her own open-handed chop across Alia’s magnificent chest.
The tender flesh almost immediately reddens as the Arab beauty cries out, but before she can mount a defense, Alejandra thrusts into her again, body-to-body and chest-to-chest to assert her own form of dominance as she traps Alia against the ropes. Just as it looks like their tangled bodies have stretched the cords to their limit, Alicea turns the press into an Irish whip and sends Alia hurtling across the ring.
The Arab princess tries to catch herself on the far ropes, but she just has too much momentum, bouncing hard off the steely strands and right into Alejandra’s waiting arms. With a grunt of effort, the Latina scoops the olive-skinned beauty up and brings her up and over, rotating full before putting the Jewel of Jordan down with a thunderous power slam.
Alia lets out a cry as she hits hard, arching her back as she tries to work the pain out of it while the FAWNatics let out a raucous cheer at the Puerto Rican strongwoman’s display of strength. As Alejandra pushes up to her feet, the scowl on her lips softens as she flashes them a smile and, just to add to their appreciation, flexes one exquisitely chiseled bicep.
While that does indeed bring a new round of appreciative calls from the fans, it gives Alia just a few extra seconds to catch her breath as she languishes on the mat. By the time Alejandra turns on her bootheel to get back to work, a dark glint sparks in the Desert Flower’s eye. Still, she seems compliant enough when Alicea reaches down, cups Saad’s chin and head, and starts to haul her back to a vertical base. Just as Alia is up to one knee, she strikes like a viper, slamming a pinpoint elbow right into Alejandra’s rock-hard abs.
Unprepared for the sudden shot, the Latina lets out a gasp as the olive-skinned beauty’s blow plunges deep, and as she instinctively bows over, the Desert Flower surges upward, bringing her other arm swinging into a European uppercut. The hard shot meets Alejandra’s bowing chin, bringing out another grunt of pain as it cracks across her jaw.
Gone is the arrogant princess and in its place is a desert huntress ready to kill. Alia’s fingers curl into claws as Alejandra staggers back from the uppercut, and the princess lunges forward to sink those claws into the Latina’s breasts and rakes down. Even through the fabric of her top, the chest rake is torture on Alicea’s breasts, and that finally tears out a momentary cry of pain from her lips. Driven back towards the ring ropes, she covers up her aching breasts with both arms, and that only leaves her ripe for the plucking.
Alia swoops in like a desert hawk, looping her arms around Alejandra’s trim waist. With a grunt from the effort of lifting the bigger girl up, the Arab grappler then brings Alicea right back down, driving her crotch first into her outstretched knee.
INVERTED ATOMIC DROP: www.youtube.com/watch?v=E5oplX4bUbI
The Spitfire lets out a gasp as Alia pushes her off her knee and onto the mat. Her thighs press together as her hands move toward her injured womanhood, and it’s all she can do for a long moment to just breathe through the pain. Though Carpenter is right at the Jewel of Jordan’s shoulder, warning her about the low blow, Alia merely ignores him and his useless prattle. No, this lowly rookie barely fit to polish the princess’s boots had dared to try to stand on her level, and that could not be allowed. Before Alejandra can recover, Alia sends a sharp boot into the Puerto Rican’s back that forces her over onto her stomach.
“You could have yielded with only some pain and embarrassment, you sniveling cur,” the raven-haired princess barks as she straddles the muscular woman’s back. “Now, I will make you wish for me to stop. Beg me.” And with that, Alia reaches forward, cups Alejandra’s jaw, and suddenly wrenches back with a Camel Clutch.
However, instead of the screams that Alia wants to hear, Alejandra only lets out a pained grunt from between her clenched jaw. Pride beats out pain, there is no way she will beg or submit to this haughty woman, and Alejandra is determined not to give the Jewel of Jordan any more satisfaction. That only serves to make Alia yank back harder to increase the torture, but before the referee can move forward to check of a submission, the Spitfire manages to slip her powerful arms off of the Arab beauty’s knees.
Alia’s eyes go wide in surprise, but before she can adjust her hold, powerful fingers bite into her wrists, and with a heart-felt roar of effort, Alejandra manages to pry the vice-like chinlock apart with sheer muscle. As the hold breaks, she forces her knees under her and bucks with her powerful back, throwing the desert princess off her and clear off her feet.
The two exotic wrestlers are both on the mat, Alejandra still on her hands and knees, while Alia lands on her right hip and rolls a few times before getting to her hands and knees. The power of the Puerto Rican woman clearly impresses the crowd, while the Jewel of Jordan seems more perturbed. Alejandra turns towards Saad and pumps out a quick set of push-ups before popping back to her feet. Alia again looks less than thrilled with the physical feats of the rookie, as she rises up at a slower pace.
“I break weak chicas like you in San Juan for fun.” Alicea snorts as she gives Alia and the FAWNatics a double bicep flex and a grin. The Arab princess’s arrogance has clearly touched a nerve with the normally respectful Alejandra, and now, she clearly means to teach Alia a lesson on her own terms.
The Desert Flower wipes her hands on her backside, before stepping closer and raising her arms in offer of a lock-up. Alejandra readily agrees and moves in. The last time, the Latina just bulled the Arab into the ropes, but this time, it is more of a slow march that Alia seems to be unable to do anything about. The bigger woman again leans in with her body, pressing Saad to the ropes as she grinds against Alia’s body.
Al stays clear to the side, ordering, “Okay, off the ropes.”
Alejandra waits for a second order from Carpenter, knowing the count will follow before she takes a grip on Alia’s left wrist and shoulder, sending the smaller brunette across the ring. The Desert Flower races to the opposite strands and turns, hitting them hard, picking up more speed. The Puerto Rican Spitfire watches Saad make most of the trip across the ring, but just before Alia hits the far ropes Alejandra charges forward. The Latina lowers her shoulder, aiming at Alia’s ample bosom.
SMEAAACK!
The sound of flesh verse flesh rings out from the collision, Alicea coming to a stop and Alia floored with a pained look of shock on her face. Again, Alejandra poses over the downed Jewel of Jordan and growls at the lightweight. “Where’s all that looking down on the little people now, Princess Puta? Isn’t so easy when you run up against a Boricua, eh?”
Before Alia can get her breath back, the Spitfire reaches down and, cupping her chin and the back of Saad’s head, pulls her back up to vertical. Alejandra tilts her body, slipping an arm between the royalty's thighs and taking a lusty handful of Alia’s buttocks, scoops the veteran up, and holds her across Alicea’s own impressive rack. The FAWNatics cheer as Alejandra carries Alia around the ring, her hand clearly kneading the Desert Flower’s derriere. After making nearly two full circles of the ring it seems Alejandra has found her spot and slams the Arabian beauty to the canvas rattling the ring.
Alia arches her back in pain for a moment before Alicea falls on top of her and hooks her far leg. The Caribbean beauty then presses chest to chest going for the win.
ONE…
TWO…
KICKOUT!
Alia shoots her arm into the air pulling her shoulder off the mat with a second to spare. Alejandra doesn’t bother checking with Al, she knows it wasn’t close enough to question.
The Puerto Rican Spitfire reaches out to bring Saad back to her feet as she rises, Alia groans as she’s forced up. Alejandra starts to pull Alia towards the ropes, but the Jewel of Jordan fires a balled fist into the rock hard abs of the brunette. The reaction the Desert Flower was hoping for doesn’t happen though as Alejandra shrugs off the blow.
The Caribbean Crush smirks. “PrincessUUMPH!”
Alejandra was a bit too cavalier and got caught with a knee at the belt line of her bottoms. The Arabian Aristocrat pushes on Alicea’s broad back, holding her in place for a series of kneelifts, Alia switching from stomach to juggs as she drives her thigh up into Alejandra’s body a half dozen times before shoving her to the canvas.
Saad pushes her hair back out of her face, some sticking to her sweaty face as she sneers, “Common Infidel.”
The bigger brunette is nudged over on to her back by Alia’s boot, and before Alejandra gets her wind back, the Desert Flower hops into the air and brings both boots down on the rookie’s stomach. Alejandra moans and jackknifes around the invading boots, Alia hops right off landing on her feet as her opponent rolls back and forth in pain. Turning around, Saad waits for Alicea to come to a stop before stomping a pair of boots into the Spitfire’s forehead. The crowd jeer and boo as Alia then puts the sole of her boot on the bridge of Alejandra’s nose and drags it off giving the rookie a face-scrape.
Al warns Alia, “Stay off the eyes, Alia.”
The Jewel of Jordan turns on the referee, “How dare you address me so familiarly?! If we were in Jordan, I would have you whipped.”
Al, getting a bit frustrated, snaps back, “Well, we’re not! And in the ring, I’m in charge, so stay off the eyes!”
The Princess gives up on the argument to inflict more damage on her opponent. Running to the ropes Alejandra’s feet are pointed at, Alia hits the cables and races back. The FAWNatics roar a warning to Alicea, but as she starts to sit up, Alia leaps and lands her backside on the rookie’s boobs crushing her back down flat on the canvas. The Desert Flower remains planted on the bigger brunette’s juggs grinding them under her curvy buttocks. Even after the tiff with Alia, Al does his job getting into position quickly to count.
ONE..,
TWO…
NO!
The powerful Alejandra gets her hands on Alia’s hips and shoves at the same time she bridges her body up and sends Alia into a forward roll. Despite the Latina’s pain, she tries to force herself up as quick as she can, desperate to get up so that she can defend herself from the desert huntress. Alia, though, has other plans.
Already having rolled to her feet, the Jewel of Jordan swoops in from behind, furious that this lowly beast of a rookie hasn’t had the good judgment to be pinned. Alicea is up on her knees, one hand on the ropes for support as she tries to fight through her bleary vision but the time Alia is upon her, too late again for the cries of the FAWN fans warning the Caribbean Crush.
She only knows the danger she is in when a slim, toned arm slips around her neck, shoving her chin under Alia’s arm. Before Alejandra can fight free, the imperious princess snatches a handful of the Latina’s shorts and lifts with a scream of effort. Alejandra feels herself rise up into the air before descending down in a calamitous crash of an inverted implant DDT!
INVERTED IMPLANT DDT: www.youtube.com/watch?v=spA3OTzCpF4
The Puerto Rican lets out a cry of pain as her head is spiked into the unyielding canvas, and as she bounces over from the impact, she lands splayed out on the mat, almost totally out of it. Alia sits up from the move, licking her lips as if she can smell her destined victory on the breeze, and slowly slinks over Alejandra’s form to pin her shoulders to the mat.
Al is right there, ever vigilant, and drops down for the pinfall.
ONE…
TWO…
TH--
The crowd roars its approval as somehow, Alejandra finds the strength to get a shoulder up, thrusting a hand in the air as if she is reaching for the sun. Al looks surprised, and Alia isn’t just shocked, she is absolutely livid. Sitting up on her knees, her furious eyes shoot to the referee, ready to accuse him of a slow count, but the Jewel of Jordan decides against it as she turns her attention back to a languishing Alejandra. The only signs of life she shows as her arm flops back to the mat is a slowly kicking leg and her heaving chest.
“If you won’t do me the favor of losing with this small bit of dignity, you infidel cow,” Alia sneers between breaths, “then I will take even that last shred from you.”
By the time Alia’s rant is done, some spark of life has returned to the Spitfire as she rolls over onto her stomach and slowly, achingly starts to push up to her knees. Before she can get far, the Arab princess is there, digging her nails painfully into the bigger woman’s scalp as she winds her fingers into those raven locks. Alejandra winces as that ache only compounds the throbbing pain in her skull from the DDT, and she is forced to comply as Alia pulls her shakily upward.
“Now, I’ll make you submit, dog, and I won’t even honor you with my Amman Anaconda,” Alia practically spits. “You’re too weak to be worth the effort.” With that, she abruptly shoves Alejandra’s face between her perfect breasts as she locks in a hold around the Latina’s head, pulling her into a full-on breast smother. Not one to leave things to chance now, Saad also pulls up on the bigger woman, using her own strength as leverage to snake her long stems around Alejandra’s midsection, adding on a crushing body scissors to the smother.
Almost immediately, Alejandra starts to waver. Her graying vision is filled with alluringly perfect olive flesh, she can’t breathe, and what little oxygen is left in her lungs is being squeezed out by the grinding vice around her ribs. Head swimming, strength fading, and a little aroused as well, the Spitfire falls to her knees, her inner flame sputtering as Alia tenaciously grinds against her.
All Alejandra can think of is how Taffy Black pulled this same humiliation on her, and how it had turned the tide of their match so badly.
The sexy hold definitely fires up the FAWNatics, a combination of cheers at the show and a raucous round of encouragement for the rookie face to not give in. It doesn’t seem to do much good, though as Alejandra’s flailing arms go limp by her sides after a few moments. Alia starts to cackle in utter joy at seeing the worm before her fall humiliated before her magnificent rack.
Al ignores all that, his focus entirely on whether Alejandra has been smothered out or not. He grabs her chiseled arm and raises it up. When he lets it go, it falls like a piece of dead meat to the Puerto Rican’s side.
ONE!
Frowning slightly, Al snatches up Alicea’s wrist and repeats the motion. Once more, it rises and falls, utterly dead weight.
TWO!
At that sight, the crowd explodes in shouts and pleas for the Latina to wake up, no matter how hopeless it looks. Al does his duty and raises her arm once more.
This time, it’s like a bolt of lightning suddenly runs through Alejandra’s veins, and as her entire body tenses, her arm stays up, muscles flaring into relief as she clenches her hand into a fist. The fans explode with cheers at Alicea’s defiance, and the Arab princess’s face twists into a livid mess as she responds by trying to squeeze even harder, but she can hear a growl of effort flutter against her breasts from the powerhouse. Strong hands suddenly cup Alia’s ass as she is lifted up, and even though Alejandra’s legs are wobbly, she forces herself upward.
Though prudence tells Alia to let go, to shift her strategy to a different move to counter, her arrogance makes her double-down, trying one last desperate attempt to put Alejandra out entirely. That last desperate squeeze does make the Caribbean Crush stagger, but she does not fall. Instead, Alejandra turns slightly, showing off a surprising degree of ring awareness, and charges the nearest corner with Alia along for the ride.
The desert princess’s back hits hard into the turnbuckle, sandwiched between barely-padded steel and the hard body of the Puerto Rican grappler. As the air explodes from Alia’s lungs with a pained moan, all pretense of maintaining the hold leaves, and she slumps into the corner. A moment later, that pain is amplified when Alejandra, gasping madly for air, manages to drive a hard shoulder right into the Arab’s breadbasket.
Al runs over, looking ready to break up the scrum in the corner, but he doesn’t have to. Alia slides down to her ass in the corner, while Alejandra half turns and collapses to her hands and knees, sweat rolling down her bronzed skin as her impressive chest heaves in sucking breaths to try to get oxygen flowing through her body again.
There is a long moment before either woman, each bruised, battered, and winded from their struggle, starts to move for certain. Alejandra finally pushes herself upward by the time Alia is yanking herself to her knees, using the ropes for support, but the Puerto Rican manages to stand a second or two before her rival. The Latina’s eyes blaze fiercely, her cheeks flush both with anger and perhaps a bit of embarrassment at the humiliation she had just endured, and she roughly snatches Alia by the hair and roars as she slams the Jewel of Jordan head-first into the turnbuckle.
Saad lets out a cry of pain as her head ricochets off the turnbuckle. When she stumbles back from the head-jarring impact, her cry morphs into a scream of surprise when she feels powerful arms snatch her neck and loops through her crotch. That’s when the entire ring whirls as Alejandra lifts the desert beauty up across her shoulders with a scream of fury, locking in a Torture Rack as she staggers away from the corner with her victim.
TORTURE RACK: www.youtube.com/watch?v=S_6d2wAk6GM
Alejandra stomps around the ring in a small circle, each step causing Alia’s spine to bend further than nature intends. The FAWNatics are now going wild for the Powerhouse as many call for Alicea to seek payback with breast or crotch mauling. Alejandra blushes a bit at the suggestions, but this is FAWN. It’s worth consideration, but for now, the Spitfire keeps her hands on chin and thigh as it’s more effective for the torture rack, but she does call out to Alia, “The Desert Flower seems to be wilting! Submit now before your back gives out!”
To make her point, Alejandra squats pulling down on Saad’s chin and leg, trying to snap the smaller woman’s spine. Alia, hissing in pain through clenched teeth, says nothing, but as the Caribbean Crush pushes up out of the squat, the Princess rams an elbow into the side of Alicea’s head.
Then another, and another. Alia, fighting out of desperation, hammers the side of Alejandra’s skull until the bigger woman has no choice but to drop the Desert Flower. The Spitfire stumbles forward, trying to clear the cobwebs forming in her head, while the Jewel of Jordan moans in a heap on the canvas, trying to find some relief for her back.
Al goes back and forth between the ladies, but since Alejandra is upright, he can’t start a ten count on them, which is good for both women. They are both covered in sweat, breathing hard, and hurting. This match is tougher on both than they thought it would be at the beginning of the night. Alejandra, bigger and stronger, is giving away a lot of experience, the reverse being true for Alia, and that has led to the back and forth that has seen neither take a true advantage. The FAWNatics are loving it as they begin to chant, “LET’S GO ALI-CEA,” then a smaller but just as enthusiastic “LET’S GO AL-IA” chant calls out in response.
Alia crawls to the nearest turnbuckles, using them to help her get back on her feet. Alejandra’s head still throbs, but it’s clear of cobwebs for now. She turns and sees her opponent’s slow climb, and with an animalistic roar, the Puerto Rican charges. Alicea is about to crush the smaller Desert Flower again when the ring veteran’s right elbow shoots back, catching the incoming wrestler on the chin. Alejandra’s head snaps back, and some claim her eyes roll back in her head as she falls backward flat on the canvas. Alia slowly turns and wobbles, falling towards the star-fished Spitfire.
Alia’s forehead slams into the Powerhouse’s thinly protected womanhood. Alejandra, who had taken all the abuse tonight stoically, now howls in pain. It’s difficult to say if the low blow was intentional or just a lucky break for the Jewel of Jordan, but now, it gives Alia a clear advantage, even if the landing has her seeing some stars of her own.
Al thinks now he might have to start that double count-out on both wrestlers. Alejandra twitches, and Alia groggy rolls over onto her side. Carpenter, standing nearby the two determined combatants, lets them know, “If you don’t start moving I have to count both of you out.”
Alejandra tries to wave an arm at the man, and Alia does give a nod as she crawls around to Alicea’s side. Using her head to push into the rookie’s ribs and hands on her shoulders and hips, Saad rolls the bigger woman to her stomach. It looks like the Desert Flower is going for another camel clutch or some other submission hold as she moves her body between the Puerto Rican’s muscular thighs. The Jewel of Jordan then lifts Alejandra’s hips to apply an underhand crotch claw to the rookie.
Alejandra cries out, “PUTA MADRE!”
The FAWNatics boo and jeer, well, most of them do. Others cheer on the Desert Flower as she tries to wring a submission out of the rookie. Alicea’s mind is swimming. Yes, it hurts like hell, but there is also a part of it causing arousal. The Spitfire pulls at her own hair, trying to focus her brain to come up with some counter or escape. Al kneels out in front of Alejandra, from experience, he’s outside of her reach as he offers, “Say the word and I’ll stop this?”
Alejandra hisses, “Puta madre!”
Not the word Al was looking for as the hard body grappler digs her elbows into the canvas, slowly pulling herself closer to the ropes. It’s hard work, and Alia readjusts her grip several times, causing pauses in Alejandra’s progress. The Puerto Rican Spitfire refuses to give up to this humiliating and painful hold, though. She reaches out and her fingers just brush the bottom rope, but then Alia’s fingers dig into the soft flesh.
Alejandra whimpers, “Puta madre...”
Alia, now grinning, thinks she has the rookie beaten, but with a final lunge, Alicea grabs the bottom rope and shouts, “Break!”
Al has been watching closely and, to be honest, hoped the rookie would make it to the strands. He taps Alia on the shoulder, “Break it. She has the ropes.” Without pause, he shouts, “ONE!”
The Jewel of Jordan is not happy with the outcome, the assault on the bigger woman’s sex spot did not lead to victory. Alia hangs on to the claw hold until Al reaches “Four!” in his count, then she reluctantly releases the hold and rolls back into the ring.
Alejandra thought there would be more relief when Alia stopped working her womanhood, but the pain still remained. She continues to hold on to the bottom rope, her breathing ragged as her powerful body feels drained. Strangely, Alicea thinks back to a conversation with Trixie Decker, Trixie promising to tend to such injuries if they should happen.
Alia rises to her feet and moves back to the center of the ring, as the rules dictate. The Jewel of Jordan doesn’t wait for Alejandra to get up under her own power though. Pushing past Al, Alia first grabs the Spitfire by the boots and drags her away from the ropes, the rough canvas scraping against Alicea’s rock hard abs and softer bosom. Then again Saad uses the black locks of the rookie to force her back up to a vertical base.
Both wrestlers sway, the back and forth banter forgotten as the need for oxygen has taken over. Alia shoves the Spitfire back against the ropes, hooking the Puerto Rican’s powerful arms over the top rope. Al orders Alia to get off the ropes, but she has time to send a chop into Alejandra’s cleavage. Sweat sprays off the rookie’s olive skin, the red welt rising instantly. The Desert Flower then returns the grind she suffered earlier to the sexy rookie.
Before Al can reach the end of the count on Alia, she grips Alejandra’s taped wrist and shoulder and whips her across the ring at the opposite strands. The crowd wonders if Alejandra will even make the trip as she stumbles, but soon, her strong legs find something left in them and she turns, taking the ropes on her back and springing forward. Alia races towards the rookie and leaps, she spins around Alejandra and looks to be going for a tilt-a-whirl DDT, when the Puerto Rican Powerhouse catches her and drops down to one knee slamming Saad across her thigh with the Tilt-a-whirl backbreaker
TILT-A-WHIRL BACKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=GcZZT1XU4hA.
All the pain of the previous work done to her spine in this match comes rushing back as Alia cries out. Alejandra, spent from that explosive power move, falls backward, unable to capitalize. While the FAWNatics watch to see which exotic beauty will rise first they chant, “THIS IS AWESOME!”
Al can feel the electricity of the crowd, so while he does begin the required ten-count, it’s clear he’s taking it a bit slow, wanting this match to see a definitive conclusion. Fortunately, it seems both grapplers want to see the same thing, both of them motivated by pride to keep fighting. By the time he’s reached three, Alejandra has rolled over onto her stomach, pushing upward with shaky arms, while Alia grimly pulls herself to the ropes, wincing with every motion that jars her twinging back. By six, both women are up, Alia with an iron grip on the ropes to keep her up while Alejandra staggers on rubbery knees, her abused womanhood making everything below the waist feeling weak.
The two battered beauties turn to lock eyes, and instead of some skillful maneuvering or slow approach, they simply charge each other. The Jewel of Jordan ducks the swinging haymaker from the Caribbean Crush, a blow that might have knocked her inside out, and rises up with a wicked cry and a scimitar-like European uppercut that crashes right into the Spitfire’s chin. The desert flower presses the attack with grim fury, taking control of the Latina’s reeling head and bringing her down so that she can slam a knee right into her battered chest.
Alejandra lets out a pitiful cry at the impact… but it turns into a yell of triumph as she, in utter desperation, clamps her powerful arms around the knee that is currently impaling her breasts. Saad’s eyes go wide in surprise as she hops on one foot, and even though she has the wits and experience to immediately drop an elbow into Alejandra’s open back, she takes the shot only with a grunt of defiance and stays holding on long enough to get control of Alia’s other leg and, with a mighty heave, she takes the Arab princess’s legs out from under her.
Saad cries out as her abused back smacks the canvas, and then, not a moment later, Alicea comes right after her, dropping a big, pinpoint elbow right between Alia’s luscious breasts. Her legs recoil and her chest bounces from the thudding impact. While the Caribbean Crush seems to have the momentary advantage, neither woman walks away from that exchange, and once again, it’s a slow rise for both. This time, though, Alejandra grimly pulls Alia up with her, seemingly moving on fumes and prayers.
Sweating, staggering, more gassed than the more agile lightweight, Alejandra tries to dig down just a little more. One more big move and she’s certain that the Jewel of Jordan will go down. Taking one last deep breath, she moves to grapple the veteran heel to finish her… and that’s when, with a flash in her eyes, Alia catches one of the Puerto Rican’s chiseled arms and slips around to that side of her body, her free arm snaking down to the inside of her knee. It’s clear she’s going for one of her own finishers, the Valley of Pharos!
The exhausted rookie looks completely off-guard, eyes wide as Alia’s muscles tense and as she lifts the bigger girl off the mat, it looks all over, but that’s when all the damage done to the Arab’s back over the entire match comes back with a vengeance. She lets out a sharp cry as her grip and back falter, and Alejandra’s sweat-slick body slips free as the desert huntress falls forward onto one knee. Though Alicea’s crash to the hard canvas isn’t pleasant, eliciting her own cry of pain, it is a far better landing then taking the full power of the Valley of Pharos.
Alia pants as she tries to push back to both feet, one hand prodding her spasming back, but Alejandra, her last wind flowing with a spike of adrenaline, is the first to her feet. The Jewel of Jordan forces herself to straighten up a moment later, but it’s a moment too late. One strong arm loops around her waist, another cups her perfect ass, and then Saad finds herself hurtling up into the air. Alejandra lets out a furious cry as she puts every last bit of strength she’s got into her finisher, hurling the lithe Arab up before twisting and pulling back down, just as she drops onto her back with both knees up into a picture-perfect Starstorm!
STARSTORM: www.youtube.com/watch?v=BsZYMwrJKeM
There’s a meaty thwack of knees on flesh, accompanied by a torturous shriek as Alia hits hard and flops off Alejandra’s knees, bouncing off and flopping onto the mat. And for a moment, it looks like the Spitfire might have finished herself off in the process, all the pain, strain, and spent energy from the grueling match catching up to her as she just tries to suck in a full breath of air on the canvas.
But then she remembers her loss to Taffy Black. That waiting cost her a win and earned her a beatdown, and so, Alejandra shoves herself over onto her abused and tender breasts, crawls over to the languishing Arab, and throws herself over Alia in a crude lateral press.
ONE!
TWO!
At the two count, Alia’s eyes flutter open, and she begins to buck, but...
THREE!
The Jewel of Jordan bridges free a split second too late, throwing the exhausted Latina off her right after Al’s hand slams into the canvas for the third time. Even as the ref leaps to his feet to call for the bell, a seething Alia, seemingly refreshed by fury at what she sees as a fast count, shoves an exhausted Alicea aside to protest to Al.
The FAWNatics roar approval as Alejandra smiles through her tired features as the ring announcer makes it official “YOUR WINNER BY PINFALL…THE PUERTO RICAN SPITFIRE! ALEJANDRA ALICEA!”
The beaming babyface starts to rise, but that is when Alia shoves Al away and spins, putting her boot to the side of Alicea’s head and nearly knocking her out with one kick. Not expecting the violence to continue, Alejandra is caught completely off guard.
Alia screams, “CUR! I will not stand for this!”
The Jewel of Jordan falls on the winner, pounding on the Puerto Rican’s boobs, before stopping long enough to rip the sweat soaked halter from Alejandra’s hard body. The Caribbean Crush is only semi-aware of what’s happening, and exposed to the cooler arena air, her nipples swell even more as she groggily tries to cover up.
Saad shrugs off Al as he tries to stop the mugging, but in FAWN, after-match action is out of the hands of the officials. The Desert Flower grabs two handfuls of hair, pulling Alejandra’s face up into the Jewel of Jordan’s sultry cleavage. The Jugg Smother only lasts about half a minute, but when Alejandra’s face reappears, her eyes flutter as if she’s just hanging on the edge of consciousness.
Al gives up trying to stop things on his own turns to the timekeeper and calls for the bell, the historical signal of problems in the ring. Alejandra had been spared a FAWN ending in her match against Taffy Black, but now her only thoughts are how stupid she had been to not watch Alia after the match and that she may lose her FAWN virginity in the next few moments.
The Jewel of Jordan shoves Alicea to her stomach, then stands, takes her by the wrists, and drags her towards the ropes. The rough canvas digs into Alejandra’s bare torso as she’s pretty much dead weight at this point, having spent everything she had to win the match. Reaching the ropes, Alia hangs the rookie over the middle strand, the Caribbean Crush balanced on the middle rope near the waist.
The Desert Huntress moves behind Alejandra and opens her legs. Stepping in, Alia thrusts her crotch into the other woman’s a few times, mocking the rookie with a dry humping. The ring bell continues to send out the call for help, though none seems to be coming.
The humiliation continues as Saad grips the waistband of Alejandra’s booty shorts, and pulls them down the muscular legs until they are rolled up at Alicea’s ankles. The Powerhouse looked out cold before Alia starts to run her hand across Alicea’s bare womanhood. Then fingers penetrate Alejandra’s private part, and her head snaps up with a confused look on her face.
Alejandra moans, “Puta Madre!”
Alia removes her fingers to rake them down Alejandra’s trimmed pubes before jamming them home again. The rookie’s hips betray her as they start to move in rhythm with the Princess’s fingers. It looks like the Puerto Rican can’t hold back what’s coming.
Finally, it looks like someone in the back gotten the word about what’s going on in the ring. Running out from behind the curtain side by side are Trixie “Jinx” Decker and the rookie known only as ‘J!nxx’
TRIXIE ‘JINX’ DECKER:
J!NXX:
The giant FAWN arena makes it a long run, and the cheer from the crowd warns the Jewel of Jordan. Alia is in no shape to take on one healthy wrestler let alone two. Still, eager to get her last bit of payback, her fingers increase in speed, Alejandra's hard body goes even more rigid, and the floodgates open.
The two face wrestlers roll into the ring as Alia rolls out the opposite side, the concern for Alejandra outweighs their want to get at the Jewel of Jordan, as Alia heads out through one of the openings around the ring to a hallway that runs under the seating in the arena. The black-clad Trixie immediately moves to get Alejandra’s arms untangled off the ropes, while J!nxx knee-slides in beside the Puerto Rican’s side, cradling the spent powerhouse’s head, concern etched large on her face.
While the pale goth girl frees her friend, she does shoot some creative invectives towards the exit Alia disappeared through, to vent her frustration at not getting her sooner if nothing else. "No, Scarecrow, you're supposed to be lacking brains, not courage! Keep running! You're only gonna get your ass beat while you're tired!"
J!nxx doesn’t join in, her only concern for the woman in her arms as she dotes on Alejandra. “Oh God! Are you okay, mi amor?”
At first, Alejandra can’t even really say yes, even though physically, she’s merely tired and battered, but her vaunted pride? Well, that has been struck hard. She promised herself she’d never submit to Alia, and thought she didn’t… not in the sense of the match… in a way, she did. Her body betrayed her under the not-so-tender but still arousing ministrations of the Jewel of Jordan. Still, when she sees the look of growing worry on J!nxx’s face and the concerned glance Trixie shoots her, Alejandra finds her courage.
“Yeah, gata.” Alicea forces a pained smile for their benefit. “I won, didn’t I?”
Whether her girlfriend and her friend-friend buy it, well, neither pushes the issue as they help the Puerto Rican powerhouse to her feet. Fortunately, though humiliated, battered, and bruised, with care and the assistance of both of the smaller women, Alejandra is gingerly able to stand. As J!nxx dotes on Alicea in worry and Trixie helps her to collect her gear, Alejandra can only look back on the match with a strange mixture of pride at the win and shame at letting Alia get the best of her after the end.
I need to face her again, Alejandra swears to herself as she shoots a glance towards where Alia disappeared to. I need to know if I can resist her.
On the FAWNtron the arid image of a desert scene is quickly filled by time-lapse growth of Desert Flowers. The fans are put in the mind of a Bazaar in Morocco by the unmistakable music that heralds the arrival of the Desert Flower.
Desert Ecstasy:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=EgDIUNOV6dI
Desert Ecstasy is exactly what the Jewel of Jordan is. The arena darkened and colored lights swing around wildly and, emerging from a puff cloud of smoke, the Desert Flower, Princess Alia Saad member of the royal family of Jordan, appears on the stage. For her battle tonight, Alia’s shapely frame was clad in a brown bikini with Arabic scrolled on the seat of her bottoms in a deep, arterial red. Her pads are a similar red, as are her boots with Arabic scrolled along the side. The Desert Flower ignores the jeers and boos of the fans as they are the common rabble beneath her station.
The Ring Announcer makes the introduction, “From Amman, Jordan…She stands 5 foot 3 inches tall and weighs in tonight at 121 pounds…She is the Jewel of Jordan…The Desert Flower…ALIA SAAD!”
ALIA SAAD:
The Arabian beauty’s hips swaying and bosom jiggling as she makes her way down the ramp. Fans hold signs out, taunting the Desert Flower, "Where you been?", but still the Jordanian gives no sign she’s even aware the masses are in attendance. Alia’s dark eyes locked on the ring as she makes a lap around the ring, her pace measured and calm, but not slow. Her long dark hair hangs loose over her shoulders. She finishes her lap and only now turns to the FAWNatics and gives them a dismissive smirk.
Climbing the steps to the ring apron Alia wipes her boots as she moves to the center of the near side and waits. The referee for tonight, Al Carpenter, gives up immediately and moves over holding the ropes open, allowing the Princess to slide through. No salutes or wild gyrations from the Desert Flower, she’s not here to impress anyone, but just the image of the olive-skinned beauty does impress many of the FAWNatics. Walking to her corner the brunette checks her own gear and leans against the turnbuckles waiting to give the rookie infidel in FAWN a beating she won’t soon forget.
Speaking of said rookie, the speakers spark to life and a bouncing, peppy beat fills the arena, as the FAWNtron fills with the colors of the Puerto Rican flag before exploding into digital fireworks.
SOY YO:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=bxWxXncl53U
As Alia’s opponent bursts into the view, the announcer’s voice booms across the arena. “Annnnd her opponent, from Bayamón, Puerto Rico… at 5 foot 4 inches and 136 pounds… the Puerto Rican Spitfire… ALEJANDRA ALICEA!”
ALEJANDRA ALICEA:
The song’s bouncing beat gets the FAWNatics on their feet as a peppy Latina plunges through the curtains and into the spotlight. The crowd lets out a cheer as Alejandra Alicea spreads her muscular arms out to the crowd. The bronze-skinned woman shakes out her silky black hair as she takes a moment to drink in the energy of the fans, and likewise, they get a moment to appreciate every inch of soft curves mixed with hard, chiseled muscle.
And they certainly get that chance. Alejandra’s ring gear shows off that body to devastating effect. A halter-type style sports top hugs her breasts with the motif of the Puerto Rican flag while highlighting her sculpted back and shoulders, high-cut blue Lycra shorts not only show off her washboard abs but powerful legs, and short wrestling boots, one red and one white, don’t obscure an inch of her rock-hard calves.
Alejandra’s smile broadens despite the reputation of her opponent tonight, and so she begins a brisque jog to the ring. As she gracefully makes her way to the ring, she claps hands with as many FAWNatics as she can before hitting ringside. With a swift hop, she ascends to the apron, then climbs up the ring post to the second turnbuckle. Alejandra takes an extra moment from that height to beam out at the crowd before flexing one chiseled bicep, a show that elicits a few catcalls and whistles, before hopping over the top rope and into the ring.
The moment she hits the canvas, her eyes grow intense as she stretches out against the ring ropes. She never takes her eyes off the Desert Flower across the ring from her while Al checks her gear for foreign objects. As for Alia, she has much the same attitude, but the flash in her eyes is one of a princess looking down at a peasant and not a fighter looking at a dangerous opponent.
As the bell rings, both wrestlers come out of their corners, but again, they move with two very different attitudes as the fans quiet to a low rumble in anticipation. Alejandra’s jaw is set and her stance is low and ready to lock up, while Alia almost sashays to the center of the ring with an almost imperial bearing. Despite the fact that Alicea is a smidge taller, Saad somehow manages to look down on the Latina as they get close to one another.
It is that which seems to get Alejandra’s attention, and she slows her advance when the Arab girl doesn’t shit into a fighting stance. As she straightens up a little, she quirks an eyebrow. “Hoy, princess, are you here to fight or--?”
The question is abruptly interrupted by not just a snort of derision from the Desert Flower, but the sudden blur of her hand as it rockets outward. For a split-second, the arena is struck silent by the tremendous, echoing sound of Alia’s savage, open-handed slap right across Alejandra’s breasts. The meaty thwack of flesh-on-flesh is only matched by the seething hiss that the painful impact pulls from the proud Puerto Rican. While she manages to avoid giving the Arab beauty the satisfaction of an actual howl of pain, the impact is jarring and surprising enough to send her turning back a half step, one hand going protectively to her well-endowed chest.
“How dare you address me in such a casual fashion?” the Jordanian noblewoman calls out, her lip curled and her nose up. “Don’t think I haven’t done my research, enough to know that you are nothing but low-brow peasantry, fresh meat to toss to the desert hyena.”
Though a chorus of boos from the FAWN faithful begins to rise up, Alia doesn’t seem to care as she looks set to continue her rant with barely a care towards her opponent. The pain and surprise on Alejandra’s face, however, rapidly morphs into fury, her chiseled muscles tensing as her free hand clenches into a fist.
“You would do best to just lie down and let me have my way with you,” Alia rants on, one hand on her shapely hips. “If you prostrate yourself properly, I do believe I have use of a maid or servant or the like. That is what you do, isn’t--”
That’s when Alia tilted her glittering eyes down to her soon-to-be-groveling foe… and right into the huge forearm that Alejandra sent rocketing towards the Desert Flower’s chest. Backed by a combination of the petite powerhouse’s anger and muscle, Saad lets out a gasp of pain as she’s knocked stumbling backward.
“Shut it, you stuck-up puta!” the Spitfire roars as she follows the hit by rushing forward.
As Alia tries to regain her balance from the powerful impact, Alejandra is on her, slamming into the Arab chest-to-chest. With her superior mass and strength, she bulls the Desert Flower into the ropes, which she uses as an opening to lay her own open-handed chop across Alia’s magnificent chest.
The tender flesh almost immediately reddens as the Arab beauty cries out, but before she can mount a defense, Alejandra thrusts into her again, body-to-body and chest-to-chest to assert her own form of dominance as she traps Alia against the ropes. Just as it looks like their tangled bodies have stretched the cords to their limit, Alicea turns the press into an Irish whip and sends Alia hurtling across the ring.
The Arab princess tries to catch herself on the far ropes, but she just has too much momentum, bouncing hard off the steely strands and right into Alejandra’s waiting arms. With a grunt of effort, the Latina scoops the olive-skinned beauty up and brings her up and over, rotating full before putting the Jewel of Jordan down with a thunderous power slam.
Alia lets out a cry as she hits hard, arching her back as she tries to work the pain out of it while the FAWNatics let out a raucous cheer at the Puerto Rican strongwoman’s display of strength. As Alejandra pushes up to her feet, the scowl on her lips softens as she flashes them a smile and, just to add to their appreciation, flexes one exquisitely chiseled bicep.
While that does indeed bring a new round of appreciative calls from the fans, it gives Alia just a few extra seconds to catch her breath as she languishes on the mat. By the time Alejandra turns on her bootheel to get back to work, a dark glint sparks in the Desert Flower’s eye. Still, she seems compliant enough when Alicea reaches down, cups Saad’s chin and head, and starts to haul her back to a vertical base. Just as Alia is up to one knee, she strikes like a viper, slamming a pinpoint elbow right into Alejandra’s rock-hard abs.
Unprepared for the sudden shot, the Latina lets out a gasp as the olive-skinned beauty’s blow plunges deep, and as she instinctively bows over, the Desert Flower surges upward, bringing her other arm swinging into a European uppercut. The hard shot meets Alejandra’s bowing chin, bringing out another grunt of pain as it cracks across her jaw.
Gone is the arrogant princess and in its place is a desert huntress ready to kill. Alia’s fingers curl into claws as Alejandra staggers back from the uppercut, and the princess lunges forward to sink those claws into the Latina’s breasts and rakes down. Even through the fabric of her top, the chest rake is torture on Alicea’s breasts, and that finally tears out a momentary cry of pain from her lips. Driven back towards the ring ropes, she covers up her aching breasts with both arms, and that only leaves her ripe for the plucking.
Alia swoops in like a desert hawk, looping her arms around Alejandra’s trim waist. With a grunt from the effort of lifting the bigger girl up, the Arab grappler then brings Alicea right back down, driving her crotch first into her outstretched knee.
INVERTED ATOMIC DROP: www.youtube.com/watch?v=E5oplX4bUbI
The Spitfire lets out a gasp as Alia pushes her off her knee and onto the mat. Her thighs press together as her hands move toward her injured womanhood, and it’s all she can do for a long moment to just breathe through the pain. Though Carpenter is right at the Jewel of Jordan’s shoulder, warning her about the low blow, Alia merely ignores him and his useless prattle. No, this lowly rookie barely fit to polish the princess’s boots had dared to try to stand on her level, and that could not be allowed. Before Alejandra can recover, Alia sends a sharp boot into the Puerto Rican’s back that forces her over onto her stomach.
“You could have yielded with only some pain and embarrassment, you sniveling cur,” the raven-haired princess barks as she straddles the muscular woman’s back. “Now, I will make you wish for me to stop. Beg me.” And with that, Alia reaches forward, cups Alejandra’s jaw, and suddenly wrenches back with a Camel Clutch.
However, instead of the screams that Alia wants to hear, Alejandra only lets out a pained grunt from between her clenched jaw. Pride beats out pain, there is no way she will beg or submit to this haughty woman, and Alejandra is determined not to give the Jewel of Jordan any more satisfaction. That only serves to make Alia yank back harder to increase the torture, but before the referee can move forward to check of a submission, the Spitfire manages to slip her powerful arms off of the Arab beauty’s knees.
Alia’s eyes go wide in surprise, but before she can adjust her hold, powerful fingers bite into her wrists, and with a heart-felt roar of effort, Alejandra manages to pry the vice-like chinlock apart with sheer muscle. As the hold breaks, she forces her knees under her and bucks with her powerful back, throwing the desert princess off her and clear off her feet.
The two exotic wrestlers are both on the mat, Alejandra still on her hands and knees, while Alia lands on her right hip and rolls a few times before getting to her hands and knees. The power of the Puerto Rican woman clearly impresses the crowd, while the Jewel of Jordan seems more perturbed. Alejandra turns towards Saad and pumps out a quick set of push-ups before popping back to her feet. Alia again looks less than thrilled with the physical feats of the rookie, as she rises up at a slower pace.
“I break weak chicas like you in San Juan for fun.” Alicea snorts as she gives Alia and the FAWNatics a double bicep flex and a grin. The Arab princess’s arrogance has clearly touched a nerve with the normally respectful Alejandra, and now, she clearly means to teach Alia a lesson on her own terms.
The Desert Flower wipes her hands on her backside, before stepping closer and raising her arms in offer of a lock-up. Alejandra readily agrees and moves in. The last time, the Latina just bulled the Arab into the ropes, but this time, it is more of a slow march that Alia seems to be unable to do anything about. The bigger woman again leans in with her body, pressing Saad to the ropes as she grinds against Alia’s body.
Al stays clear to the side, ordering, “Okay, off the ropes.”
Alejandra waits for a second order from Carpenter, knowing the count will follow before she takes a grip on Alia’s left wrist and shoulder, sending the smaller brunette across the ring. The Desert Flower races to the opposite strands and turns, hitting them hard, picking up more speed. The Puerto Rican Spitfire watches Saad make most of the trip across the ring, but just before Alia hits the far ropes Alejandra charges forward. The Latina lowers her shoulder, aiming at Alia’s ample bosom.
SMEAAACK!
The sound of flesh verse flesh rings out from the collision, Alicea coming to a stop and Alia floored with a pained look of shock on her face. Again, Alejandra poses over the downed Jewel of Jordan and growls at the lightweight. “Where’s all that looking down on the little people now, Princess Puta? Isn’t so easy when you run up against a Boricua, eh?”
Before Alia can get her breath back, the Spitfire reaches down and, cupping her chin and the back of Saad’s head, pulls her back up to vertical. Alejandra tilts her body, slipping an arm between the royalty's thighs and taking a lusty handful of Alia’s buttocks, scoops the veteran up, and holds her across Alicea’s own impressive rack. The FAWNatics cheer as Alejandra carries Alia around the ring, her hand clearly kneading the Desert Flower’s derriere. After making nearly two full circles of the ring it seems Alejandra has found her spot and slams the Arabian beauty to the canvas rattling the ring.
Alia arches her back in pain for a moment before Alicea falls on top of her and hooks her far leg. The Caribbean beauty then presses chest to chest going for the win.
ONE…
TWO…
KICKOUT!
Alia shoots her arm into the air pulling her shoulder off the mat with a second to spare. Alejandra doesn’t bother checking with Al, she knows it wasn’t close enough to question.
The Puerto Rican Spitfire reaches out to bring Saad back to her feet as she rises, Alia groans as she’s forced up. Alejandra starts to pull Alia towards the ropes, but the Jewel of Jordan fires a balled fist into the rock hard abs of the brunette. The reaction the Desert Flower was hoping for doesn’t happen though as Alejandra shrugs off the blow.
The Caribbean Crush smirks. “PrincessUUMPH!”
Alejandra was a bit too cavalier and got caught with a knee at the belt line of her bottoms. The Arabian Aristocrat pushes on Alicea’s broad back, holding her in place for a series of kneelifts, Alia switching from stomach to juggs as she drives her thigh up into Alejandra’s body a half dozen times before shoving her to the canvas.
Saad pushes her hair back out of her face, some sticking to her sweaty face as she sneers, “Common Infidel.”
The bigger brunette is nudged over on to her back by Alia’s boot, and before Alejandra gets her wind back, the Desert Flower hops into the air and brings both boots down on the rookie’s stomach. Alejandra moans and jackknifes around the invading boots, Alia hops right off landing on her feet as her opponent rolls back and forth in pain. Turning around, Saad waits for Alicea to come to a stop before stomping a pair of boots into the Spitfire’s forehead. The crowd jeer and boo as Alia then puts the sole of her boot on the bridge of Alejandra’s nose and drags it off giving the rookie a face-scrape.
Al warns Alia, “Stay off the eyes, Alia.”
The Jewel of Jordan turns on the referee, “How dare you address me so familiarly?! If we were in Jordan, I would have you whipped.”
Al, getting a bit frustrated, snaps back, “Well, we’re not! And in the ring, I’m in charge, so stay off the eyes!”
The Princess gives up on the argument to inflict more damage on her opponent. Running to the ropes Alejandra’s feet are pointed at, Alia hits the cables and races back. The FAWNatics roar a warning to Alicea, but as she starts to sit up, Alia leaps and lands her backside on the rookie’s boobs crushing her back down flat on the canvas. The Desert Flower remains planted on the bigger brunette’s juggs grinding them under her curvy buttocks. Even after the tiff with Alia, Al does his job getting into position quickly to count.
ONE..,
TWO…
NO!
The powerful Alejandra gets her hands on Alia’s hips and shoves at the same time she bridges her body up and sends Alia into a forward roll. Despite the Latina’s pain, she tries to force herself up as quick as she can, desperate to get up so that she can defend herself from the desert huntress. Alia, though, has other plans.
Already having rolled to her feet, the Jewel of Jordan swoops in from behind, furious that this lowly beast of a rookie hasn’t had the good judgment to be pinned. Alicea is up on her knees, one hand on the ropes for support as she tries to fight through her bleary vision but the time Alia is upon her, too late again for the cries of the FAWN fans warning the Caribbean Crush.
She only knows the danger she is in when a slim, toned arm slips around her neck, shoving her chin under Alia’s arm. Before Alejandra can fight free, the imperious princess snatches a handful of the Latina’s shorts and lifts with a scream of effort. Alejandra feels herself rise up into the air before descending down in a calamitous crash of an inverted implant DDT!
INVERTED IMPLANT DDT: www.youtube.com/watch?v=spA3OTzCpF4
The Puerto Rican lets out a cry of pain as her head is spiked into the unyielding canvas, and as she bounces over from the impact, she lands splayed out on the mat, almost totally out of it. Alia sits up from the move, licking her lips as if she can smell her destined victory on the breeze, and slowly slinks over Alejandra’s form to pin her shoulders to the mat.
Al is right there, ever vigilant, and drops down for the pinfall.
ONE…
TWO…
TH--
The crowd roars its approval as somehow, Alejandra finds the strength to get a shoulder up, thrusting a hand in the air as if she is reaching for the sun. Al looks surprised, and Alia isn’t just shocked, she is absolutely livid. Sitting up on her knees, her furious eyes shoot to the referee, ready to accuse him of a slow count, but the Jewel of Jordan decides against it as she turns her attention back to a languishing Alejandra. The only signs of life she shows as her arm flops back to the mat is a slowly kicking leg and her heaving chest.
“If you won’t do me the favor of losing with this small bit of dignity, you infidel cow,” Alia sneers between breaths, “then I will take even that last shred from you.”
By the time Alia’s rant is done, some spark of life has returned to the Spitfire as she rolls over onto her stomach and slowly, achingly starts to push up to her knees. Before she can get far, the Arab princess is there, digging her nails painfully into the bigger woman’s scalp as she winds her fingers into those raven locks. Alejandra winces as that ache only compounds the throbbing pain in her skull from the DDT, and she is forced to comply as Alia pulls her shakily upward.
“Now, I’ll make you submit, dog, and I won’t even honor you with my Amman Anaconda,” Alia practically spits. “You’re too weak to be worth the effort.” With that, she abruptly shoves Alejandra’s face between her perfect breasts as she locks in a hold around the Latina’s head, pulling her into a full-on breast smother. Not one to leave things to chance now, Saad also pulls up on the bigger woman, using her own strength as leverage to snake her long stems around Alejandra’s midsection, adding on a crushing body scissors to the smother.
Almost immediately, Alejandra starts to waver. Her graying vision is filled with alluringly perfect olive flesh, she can’t breathe, and what little oxygen is left in her lungs is being squeezed out by the grinding vice around her ribs. Head swimming, strength fading, and a little aroused as well, the Spitfire falls to her knees, her inner flame sputtering as Alia tenaciously grinds against her.
All Alejandra can think of is how Taffy Black pulled this same humiliation on her, and how it had turned the tide of their match so badly.
The sexy hold definitely fires up the FAWNatics, a combination of cheers at the show and a raucous round of encouragement for the rookie face to not give in. It doesn’t seem to do much good, though as Alejandra’s flailing arms go limp by her sides after a few moments. Alia starts to cackle in utter joy at seeing the worm before her fall humiliated before her magnificent rack.
Al ignores all that, his focus entirely on whether Alejandra has been smothered out or not. He grabs her chiseled arm and raises it up. When he lets it go, it falls like a piece of dead meat to the Puerto Rican’s side.
ONE!
Frowning slightly, Al snatches up Alicea’s wrist and repeats the motion. Once more, it rises and falls, utterly dead weight.
TWO!
At that sight, the crowd explodes in shouts and pleas for the Latina to wake up, no matter how hopeless it looks. Al does his duty and raises her arm once more.
This time, it’s like a bolt of lightning suddenly runs through Alejandra’s veins, and as her entire body tenses, her arm stays up, muscles flaring into relief as she clenches her hand into a fist. The fans explode with cheers at Alicea’s defiance, and the Arab princess’s face twists into a livid mess as she responds by trying to squeeze even harder, but she can hear a growl of effort flutter against her breasts from the powerhouse. Strong hands suddenly cup Alia’s ass as she is lifted up, and even though Alejandra’s legs are wobbly, she forces herself upward.
Though prudence tells Alia to let go, to shift her strategy to a different move to counter, her arrogance makes her double-down, trying one last desperate attempt to put Alejandra out entirely. That last desperate squeeze does make the Caribbean Crush stagger, but she does not fall. Instead, Alejandra turns slightly, showing off a surprising degree of ring awareness, and charges the nearest corner with Alia along for the ride.
The desert princess’s back hits hard into the turnbuckle, sandwiched between barely-padded steel and the hard body of the Puerto Rican grappler. As the air explodes from Alia’s lungs with a pained moan, all pretense of maintaining the hold leaves, and she slumps into the corner. A moment later, that pain is amplified when Alejandra, gasping madly for air, manages to drive a hard shoulder right into the Arab’s breadbasket.
Al runs over, looking ready to break up the scrum in the corner, but he doesn’t have to. Alia slides down to her ass in the corner, while Alejandra half turns and collapses to her hands and knees, sweat rolling down her bronzed skin as her impressive chest heaves in sucking breaths to try to get oxygen flowing through her body again.
There is a long moment before either woman, each bruised, battered, and winded from their struggle, starts to move for certain. Alejandra finally pushes herself upward by the time Alia is yanking herself to her knees, using the ropes for support, but the Puerto Rican manages to stand a second or two before her rival. The Latina’s eyes blaze fiercely, her cheeks flush both with anger and perhaps a bit of embarrassment at the humiliation she had just endured, and she roughly snatches Alia by the hair and roars as she slams the Jewel of Jordan head-first into the turnbuckle.
Saad lets out a cry of pain as her head ricochets off the turnbuckle. When she stumbles back from the head-jarring impact, her cry morphs into a scream of surprise when she feels powerful arms snatch her neck and loops through her crotch. That’s when the entire ring whirls as Alejandra lifts the desert beauty up across her shoulders with a scream of fury, locking in a Torture Rack as she staggers away from the corner with her victim.
TORTURE RACK: www.youtube.com/watch?v=S_6d2wAk6GM
Alejandra stomps around the ring in a small circle, each step causing Alia’s spine to bend further than nature intends. The FAWNatics are now going wild for the Powerhouse as many call for Alicea to seek payback with breast or crotch mauling. Alejandra blushes a bit at the suggestions, but this is FAWN. It’s worth consideration, but for now, the Spitfire keeps her hands on chin and thigh as it’s more effective for the torture rack, but she does call out to Alia, “The Desert Flower seems to be wilting! Submit now before your back gives out!”
To make her point, Alejandra squats pulling down on Saad’s chin and leg, trying to snap the smaller woman’s spine. Alia, hissing in pain through clenched teeth, says nothing, but as the Caribbean Crush pushes up out of the squat, the Princess rams an elbow into the side of Alicea’s head.
Then another, and another. Alia, fighting out of desperation, hammers the side of Alejandra’s skull until the bigger woman has no choice but to drop the Desert Flower. The Spitfire stumbles forward, trying to clear the cobwebs forming in her head, while the Jewel of Jordan moans in a heap on the canvas, trying to find some relief for her back.
Al goes back and forth between the ladies, but since Alejandra is upright, he can’t start a ten count on them, which is good for both women. They are both covered in sweat, breathing hard, and hurting. This match is tougher on both than they thought it would be at the beginning of the night. Alejandra, bigger and stronger, is giving away a lot of experience, the reverse being true for Alia, and that has led to the back and forth that has seen neither take a true advantage. The FAWNatics are loving it as they begin to chant, “LET’S GO ALI-CEA,” then a smaller but just as enthusiastic “LET’S GO AL-IA” chant calls out in response.
Alia crawls to the nearest turnbuckles, using them to help her get back on her feet. Alejandra’s head still throbs, but it’s clear of cobwebs for now. She turns and sees her opponent’s slow climb, and with an animalistic roar, the Puerto Rican charges. Alicea is about to crush the smaller Desert Flower again when the ring veteran’s right elbow shoots back, catching the incoming wrestler on the chin. Alejandra’s head snaps back, and some claim her eyes roll back in her head as she falls backward flat on the canvas. Alia slowly turns and wobbles, falling towards the star-fished Spitfire.
Alia’s forehead slams into the Powerhouse’s thinly protected womanhood. Alejandra, who had taken all the abuse tonight stoically, now howls in pain. It’s difficult to say if the low blow was intentional or just a lucky break for the Jewel of Jordan, but now, it gives Alia a clear advantage, even if the landing has her seeing some stars of her own.
Al thinks now he might have to start that double count-out on both wrestlers. Alejandra twitches, and Alia groggy rolls over onto her side. Carpenter, standing nearby the two determined combatants, lets them know, “If you don’t start moving I have to count both of you out.”
Alejandra tries to wave an arm at the man, and Alia does give a nod as she crawls around to Alicea’s side. Using her head to push into the rookie’s ribs and hands on her shoulders and hips, Saad rolls the bigger woman to her stomach. It looks like the Desert Flower is going for another camel clutch or some other submission hold as she moves her body between the Puerto Rican’s muscular thighs. The Jewel of Jordan then lifts Alejandra’s hips to apply an underhand crotch claw to the rookie.
Alejandra cries out, “PUTA MADRE!”
The FAWNatics boo and jeer, well, most of them do. Others cheer on the Desert Flower as she tries to wring a submission out of the rookie. Alicea’s mind is swimming. Yes, it hurts like hell, but there is also a part of it causing arousal. The Spitfire pulls at her own hair, trying to focus her brain to come up with some counter or escape. Al kneels out in front of Alejandra, from experience, he’s outside of her reach as he offers, “Say the word and I’ll stop this?”
Alejandra hisses, “Puta madre!”
Not the word Al was looking for as the hard body grappler digs her elbows into the canvas, slowly pulling herself closer to the ropes. It’s hard work, and Alia readjusts her grip several times, causing pauses in Alejandra’s progress. The Puerto Rican Spitfire refuses to give up to this humiliating and painful hold, though. She reaches out and her fingers just brush the bottom rope, but then Alia’s fingers dig into the soft flesh.
Alejandra whimpers, “Puta madre...”
Alia, now grinning, thinks she has the rookie beaten, but with a final lunge, Alicea grabs the bottom rope and shouts, “Break!”
Al has been watching closely and, to be honest, hoped the rookie would make it to the strands. He taps Alia on the shoulder, “Break it. She has the ropes.” Without pause, he shouts, “ONE!”
The Jewel of Jordan is not happy with the outcome, the assault on the bigger woman’s sex spot did not lead to victory. Alia hangs on to the claw hold until Al reaches “Four!” in his count, then she reluctantly releases the hold and rolls back into the ring.
Alejandra thought there would be more relief when Alia stopped working her womanhood, but the pain still remained. She continues to hold on to the bottom rope, her breathing ragged as her powerful body feels drained. Strangely, Alicea thinks back to a conversation with Trixie Decker, Trixie promising to tend to such injuries if they should happen.
Alia rises to her feet and moves back to the center of the ring, as the rules dictate. The Jewel of Jordan doesn’t wait for Alejandra to get up under her own power though. Pushing past Al, Alia first grabs the Spitfire by the boots and drags her away from the ropes, the rough canvas scraping against Alicea’s rock hard abs and softer bosom. Then again Saad uses the black locks of the rookie to force her back up to a vertical base.
Both wrestlers sway, the back and forth banter forgotten as the need for oxygen has taken over. Alia shoves the Spitfire back against the ropes, hooking the Puerto Rican’s powerful arms over the top rope. Al orders Alia to get off the ropes, but she has time to send a chop into Alejandra’s cleavage. Sweat sprays off the rookie’s olive skin, the red welt rising instantly. The Desert Flower then returns the grind she suffered earlier to the sexy rookie.
Before Al can reach the end of the count on Alia, she grips Alejandra’s taped wrist and shoulder and whips her across the ring at the opposite strands. The crowd wonders if Alejandra will even make the trip as she stumbles, but soon, her strong legs find something left in them and she turns, taking the ropes on her back and springing forward. Alia races towards the rookie and leaps, she spins around Alejandra and looks to be going for a tilt-a-whirl DDT, when the Puerto Rican Powerhouse catches her and drops down to one knee slamming Saad across her thigh with the Tilt-a-whirl backbreaker
TILT-A-WHIRL BACKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=GcZZT1XU4hA.
All the pain of the previous work done to her spine in this match comes rushing back as Alia cries out. Alejandra, spent from that explosive power move, falls backward, unable to capitalize. While the FAWNatics watch to see which exotic beauty will rise first they chant, “THIS IS AWESOME!”
Al can feel the electricity of the crowd, so while he does begin the required ten-count, it’s clear he’s taking it a bit slow, wanting this match to see a definitive conclusion. Fortunately, it seems both grapplers want to see the same thing, both of them motivated by pride to keep fighting. By the time he’s reached three, Alejandra has rolled over onto her stomach, pushing upward with shaky arms, while Alia grimly pulls herself to the ropes, wincing with every motion that jars her twinging back. By six, both women are up, Alia with an iron grip on the ropes to keep her up while Alejandra staggers on rubbery knees, her abused womanhood making everything below the waist feeling weak.
The two battered beauties turn to lock eyes, and instead of some skillful maneuvering or slow approach, they simply charge each other. The Jewel of Jordan ducks the swinging haymaker from the Caribbean Crush, a blow that might have knocked her inside out, and rises up with a wicked cry and a scimitar-like European uppercut that crashes right into the Spitfire’s chin. The desert flower presses the attack with grim fury, taking control of the Latina’s reeling head and bringing her down so that she can slam a knee right into her battered chest.
Alejandra lets out a pitiful cry at the impact… but it turns into a yell of triumph as she, in utter desperation, clamps her powerful arms around the knee that is currently impaling her breasts. Saad’s eyes go wide in surprise as she hops on one foot, and even though she has the wits and experience to immediately drop an elbow into Alejandra’s open back, she takes the shot only with a grunt of defiance and stays holding on long enough to get control of Alia’s other leg and, with a mighty heave, she takes the Arab princess’s legs out from under her.
Saad cries out as her abused back smacks the canvas, and then, not a moment later, Alicea comes right after her, dropping a big, pinpoint elbow right between Alia’s luscious breasts. Her legs recoil and her chest bounces from the thudding impact. While the Caribbean Crush seems to have the momentary advantage, neither woman walks away from that exchange, and once again, it’s a slow rise for both. This time, though, Alejandra grimly pulls Alia up with her, seemingly moving on fumes and prayers.
Sweating, staggering, more gassed than the more agile lightweight, Alejandra tries to dig down just a little more. One more big move and she’s certain that the Jewel of Jordan will go down. Taking one last deep breath, she moves to grapple the veteran heel to finish her… and that’s when, with a flash in her eyes, Alia catches one of the Puerto Rican’s chiseled arms and slips around to that side of her body, her free arm snaking down to the inside of her knee. It’s clear she’s going for one of her own finishers, the Valley of Pharos!
The exhausted rookie looks completely off-guard, eyes wide as Alia’s muscles tense and as she lifts the bigger girl off the mat, it looks all over, but that’s when all the damage done to the Arab’s back over the entire match comes back with a vengeance. She lets out a sharp cry as her grip and back falter, and Alejandra’s sweat-slick body slips free as the desert huntress falls forward onto one knee. Though Alicea’s crash to the hard canvas isn’t pleasant, eliciting her own cry of pain, it is a far better landing then taking the full power of the Valley of Pharos.
Alia pants as she tries to push back to both feet, one hand prodding her spasming back, but Alejandra, her last wind flowing with a spike of adrenaline, is the first to her feet. The Jewel of Jordan forces herself to straighten up a moment later, but it’s a moment too late. One strong arm loops around her waist, another cups her perfect ass, and then Saad finds herself hurtling up into the air. Alejandra lets out a furious cry as she puts every last bit of strength she’s got into her finisher, hurling the lithe Arab up before twisting and pulling back down, just as she drops onto her back with both knees up into a picture-perfect Starstorm!
STARSTORM: www.youtube.com/watch?v=BsZYMwrJKeM
There’s a meaty thwack of knees on flesh, accompanied by a torturous shriek as Alia hits hard and flops off Alejandra’s knees, bouncing off and flopping onto the mat. And for a moment, it looks like the Spitfire might have finished herself off in the process, all the pain, strain, and spent energy from the grueling match catching up to her as she just tries to suck in a full breath of air on the canvas.
But then she remembers her loss to Taffy Black. That waiting cost her a win and earned her a beatdown, and so, Alejandra shoves herself over onto her abused and tender breasts, crawls over to the languishing Arab, and throws herself over Alia in a crude lateral press.
ONE!
TWO!
At the two count, Alia’s eyes flutter open, and she begins to buck, but...
THREE!
The Jewel of Jordan bridges free a split second too late, throwing the exhausted Latina off her right after Al’s hand slams into the canvas for the third time. Even as the ref leaps to his feet to call for the bell, a seething Alia, seemingly refreshed by fury at what she sees as a fast count, shoves an exhausted Alicea aside to protest to Al.
The FAWNatics roar approval as Alejandra smiles through her tired features as the ring announcer makes it official “YOUR WINNER BY PINFALL…THE PUERTO RICAN SPITFIRE! ALEJANDRA ALICEA!”
The beaming babyface starts to rise, but that is when Alia shoves Al away and spins, putting her boot to the side of Alicea’s head and nearly knocking her out with one kick. Not expecting the violence to continue, Alejandra is caught completely off guard.
Alia screams, “CUR! I will not stand for this!”
The Jewel of Jordan falls on the winner, pounding on the Puerto Rican’s boobs, before stopping long enough to rip the sweat soaked halter from Alejandra’s hard body. The Caribbean Crush is only semi-aware of what’s happening, and exposed to the cooler arena air, her nipples swell even more as she groggily tries to cover up.
Saad shrugs off Al as he tries to stop the mugging, but in FAWN, after-match action is out of the hands of the officials. The Desert Flower grabs two handfuls of hair, pulling Alejandra’s face up into the Jewel of Jordan’s sultry cleavage. The Jugg Smother only lasts about half a minute, but when Alejandra’s face reappears, her eyes flutter as if she’s just hanging on the edge of consciousness.
Al gives up trying to stop things on his own turns to the timekeeper and calls for the bell, the historical signal of problems in the ring. Alejandra had been spared a FAWN ending in her match against Taffy Black, but now her only thoughts are how stupid she had been to not watch Alia after the match and that she may lose her FAWN virginity in the next few moments.
The Jewel of Jordan shoves Alicea to her stomach, then stands, takes her by the wrists, and drags her towards the ropes. The rough canvas digs into Alejandra’s bare torso as she’s pretty much dead weight at this point, having spent everything she had to win the match. Reaching the ropes, Alia hangs the rookie over the middle strand, the Caribbean Crush balanced on the middle rope near the waist.
The Desert Huntress moves behind Alejandra and opens her legs. Stepping in, Alia thrusts her crotch into the other woman’s a few times, mocking the rookie with a dry humping. The ring bell continues to send out the call for help, though none seems to be coming.
The humiliation continues as Saad grips the waistband of Alejandra’s booty shorts, and pulls them down the muscular legs until they are rolled up at Alicea’s ankles. The Powerhouse looked out cold before Alia starts to run her hand across Alicea’s bare womanhood. Then fingers penetrate Alejandra’s private part, and her head snaps up with a confused look on her face.
Alejandra moans, “Puta Madre!”
Alia removes her fingers to rake them down Alejandra’s trimmed pubes before jamming them home again. The rookie’s hips betray her as they start to move in rhythm with the Princess’s fingers. It looks like the Puerto Rican can’t hold back what’s coming.
Finally, it looks like someone in the back gotten the word about what’s going on in the ring. Running out from behind the curtain side by side are Trixie “Jinx” Decker and the rookie known only as ‘J!nxx’
TRIXIE ‘JINX’ DECKER:
J!NXX:
The giant FAWN arena makes it a long run, and the cheer from the crowd warns the Jewel of Jordan. Alia is in no shape to take on one healthy wrestler let alone two. Still, eager to get her last bit of payback, her fingers increase in speed, Alejandra's hard body goes even more rigid, and the floodgates open.
The two face wrestlers roll into the ring as Alia rolls out the opposite side, the concern for Alejandra outweighs their want to get at the Jewel of Jordan, as Alia heads out through one of the openings around the ring to a hallway that runs under the seating in the arena. The black-clad Trixie immediately moves to get Alejandra’s arms untangled off the ropes, while J!nxx knee-slides in beside the Puerto Rican’s side, cradling the spent powerhouse’s head, concern etched large on her face.
While the pale goth girl frees her friend, she does shoot some creative invectives towards the exit Alia disappeared through, to vent her frustration at not getting her sooner if nothing else. "No, Scarecrow, you're supposed to be lacking brains, not courage! Keep running! You're only gonna get your ass beat while you're tired!"
J!nxx doesn’t join in, her only concern for the woman in her arms as she dotes on Alejandra. “Oh God! Are you okay, mi amor?”
At first, Alejandra can’t even really say yes, even though physically, she’s merely tired and battered, but her vaunted pride? Well, that has been struck hard. She promised herself she’d never submit to Alia, and thought she didn’t… not in the sense of the match… in a way, she did. Her body betrayed her under the not-so-tender but still arousing ministrations of the Jewel of Jordan. Still, when she sees the look of growing worry on J!nxx’s face and the concerned glance Trixie shoots her, Alejandra finds her courage.
“Yeah, gata.” Alicea forces a pained smile for their benefit. “I won, didn’t I?”
Whether her girlfriend and her friend-friend buy it, well, neither pushes the issue as they help the Puerto Rican powerhouse to her feet. Fortunately, though humiliated, battered, and bruised, with care and the assistance of both of the smaller women, Alejandra is gingerly able to stand. As J!nxx dotes on Alicea in worry and Trixie helps her to collect her gear, Alejandra can only look back on the match with a strange mixture of pride at the win and shame at letting Alia get the best of her after the end.
I need to face her again, Alejandra swears to herself as she shoots a glance towards where Alia disappeared to. I need to know if I can resist her.