Post by hawkeye on Jul 5, 2020 18:24:17 GMT
Things look to be truly heating up here at Summer Swelter 2020. The arena is filled to bursting with ever-eager FAWNatics, and in the Orlando heat, summerwear is on display. Colorful Hawaiian shirts, shorts, halters, shorts, and a few men and women in even more risque outfits fill the stands, anything to beat the summer heat. Not that this rabid crowd is going to let that stop them from expressing their excitement at the thrilling action of FAWN.
So it’s no surprise then when the lights come to life at the entrance ramp of the arena, the FAWNatics in attendance break into frenetic cheers at the prospect of another thrilling match. Before the electricity fully dies down, the sound system crackles on as the ring announcer’s bombastic voice echoes out across the jam-packed room.
“Laaaaadies and gentlemen, our next bout is a standard match scheduled for one fall!” At the announcer’s voice, the crowd dies down to a low roar, eager to see who will be squaring off in this contest. “Coming to the ring first, from Bayamón, Puerto Rico… at 5 foot 4 inches and 136 pounds… the Puerto Rican Spitfire, ALEJANDRA ALICEA!”
“SOY YO” BY BOMBA ESTERO
www.youtube.com/watch?v=bxWxXncl53U
ALEJANDRA ALICEA:
As the song’s bouncing beat gets the FAWNatics on their feet, eager for the Latina Powerhouse’s appearance, they aren’t disappointed as Alejandra bursts through the curtain and spreads her chiseled arms wide to the crowd. However, instead of her usual peppy, upbeat expression, there is an intense fire in her eyes, and while she smiles to the fans, she holds an intensity beyond her usual 110%. Still, she takes a long moment posing to let the crowd take in every inch of her fit, muscular frame.
Either the fans love this extra intensity or they just don’t care, because they explode into fresh cheers. She is decked out in her traditional ring gear: a halter-type style sports top that hugs her breasts with the motif of the Puerto Rican flag while highlighting her sculpted back and shoulders and high-cut blue Lycra shorts that show off her washboard abs and powerful legs. Short wrestling boots, taped wrists, and bicep bands, the right side red and the left side white, round out her apparel.
With a nod to the fans, Alejandra breaks into a brisque jog to the ring, a pace faster than usual as she claps hands with fans on the way to the ring. Once she hits ringside, she hops up to the canvas, stretches out against the top rope, then leans back, using the flex of the cable to vault over and into the ring. She bounces a few times on her toes in the landing before looking to the crowd. With a faint smile and a renewed cheer, the Puerto Rican Spitfire gives them the show they want, a flex of her exquisitely chiseled arms… but then the playfulness fades as she stares daggers towards where she knows Alia Saad will appear from at any second.
The crowd at Summer Swelter gets on their feet when 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 white bikini with Arabic scrolled on the seat of her bottoms in a deep, arterial red. Her pads are a similar red, as are her white 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, “Alejandra Beat You!", 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. More surprising, the Desert Flower doesn’t show any acknowledgment of her opponent. While Alicea glares at the Jewel of Jordan, Alia hasn’t even glanced her way.
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 get her revenge on the rookie infidel. She knows she took some Puerto Rican pride away last time, this time she plans to take even more.
Al calls for the bell, and the crowd roars!
Alejandra tries taking a direct line at the Princess, but Alia circles making the Puerto Rican give chase. The smaller Desert Flower leads the Puerto Rican Powerhouse around the inside of the ring twice, slipping by each time Alejandra gets close. The first boos start coming from the fans as Alicea stops, putting hands on her hips as she asks, “You afraid, Princess Puta?”
The Jewel of Jordan squares off with the muscular beauty, hips cocked to one side as she answers, “Cur, the Desert Huntress fears no one. My royal intelligence and skills are just greater than yours.”
The rookie tilts her head. “QUE?”
The Princess huffs a sigh and mutters, “Exactly.”
Alejandra, deciding it doesn’t matter, raises her arms and moves in for a collar and elbow. Alia starts in, but just before they would lock up, the Jewel of Jordan puts both hands on Alicea’s chest and shoves. The move hardly budges Alejandra, but it allows Alia to move back out of the Puerto Rican’s reach.
Turning to Carpenter, Saad complains, “She has something on her skin.”
The rookie throws her hands up and wipes down her arms. “There is nothing there!”
Al looks doubtful. “I already checked her, she’s fine, ‘Your Highness’”
The Desert Flower walks to the ropes and stands defiantly until Al gives up and snorts. “Fine”
As he walks over to Alejandra, Carpenter apologizes, “Sorry about this, but let me see your arms.”
The Puerto Rican Powerhouse’s jaw drops, “Are you serious. This puta whines and you obey?”
This is one of those nights that Al’s job is going to be more difficult than most. He nods towards Alejandra. “The quicker we do this, the quicker you can get to kicking her ass.”
“I heard that!” the Princess chimes in.
With a huff, Alejandra extends her arms, allowing the referee to check. As he does so, from behind Alia cries, “Her legs! Check her legs.”
Al sighs his head, dropping forward. “I’m sorry.”
Alejandra looks suspicious, this man is getting to feel a lot of her body. Then the rookie raises her left leg first then the right. Al’s face is a little red as he turns towards the Princess, saying, “She’s clean, are you satisfied?”
Alia nods and steps from the ropes. Alejandra charges like the bull in an arena, tired of the Royal’s bullshit. This time, though, the Desert Fox comes out, and Alia catches the rushing girl in her washboard abs with a boot. Alicea’s cheeks puff as she’s stopped in her tracks, then the Princess puts her left hand on the back of the doubled-over woman’s head as her right arm cuts up through the air like a scimitar, clapping Alejandra along the jawline with a European Uppercut.
It doesn’t take the strong woman off her feet, but Alejandra does stagger back which allows Alia to launch her boots towards the other exotic beauty. The drop kick catches Alicea clean in the chest, sending her flying backward as she falls to the canvas. As Alia lands lightly on the canvas, Alejandra skids across the mat, coming to a stop near the ropes. The FAWNatics rain down boos on the Desert Flower, but Alia kips up to her feet and heads over towards the rookie.
If Saad thought things were going to be this easy, she is in for a shock. Reaching down for a handful of black hair to bring Alicea back up, the Spitfire shoots a boot up, catching Alia in the top of the head. As Alejandra gets to her feet, Alia drops to her rump, legs out in front of her in a ‘V’ and a stunned look on her face. The rookie stomps over and grabs Alia’s left forearm, her other hand jamming into Alia’s armpit to lift her back to her boots.
Alejandra doesn’t even shift her grip as she points Alia at the ropes and fires her off. Alia has the sense to turn, taking the ropes on her back and being catapulted back towards the irate woman. The Spitfire extends a muscular arm and swings it like a club across the Desert Flower’s bouncing bosom, Alia’s boobs mushroom, and her feet go out from under her. When gravity takes hold she slams into the thinly padded boards flat on her back.
The Puerto Rican Spitfire lets out a shout like she just set a personal lifting record. Even though she won their last encounter, there is clearly unfinished business here as Alejandra lets out a battle cry, leaps up, and drops down with a pinpoint elbow drop right in the middle of the Arab girl’s bountiful chest. Alia lets out a gasp as her legs jackknife from the impact, but the fiery Latina doesn’t rest on her laurels, repeating the move again to the cheers of the crowd.
As she sits up from the second elbow drop, Alejandra wipes her brow and pumps her fist while Alia can only gasp and clutch her aching breasts. Still feeling like she’s on a hot streak, the Boricua powerhouse turns to wrangle the Jewel of Jordan over on her belly, then wraps a strong right arm around her chin. As Alicea cranks on the headlock, she pushes upward, hauling Alia to her feet in the process.
What Alejandra doesn’t quite notice in her anger is that Alia is clearly acting as deadweight even though she’s still got plenty of vim and vigor in her. With a last huff, the fit Latina hauls the beautiful Arab to her feet, then cranks down on the headlock, her chiseled arm and shoulder flaring in relief. Saad lets out a howl of pain… but even more than she should. In fact, she flails wildly and makes exaggerating gasping sounds as she points at her neck. It’s clearly the universal sign of a choke, and the fact that Alia keeps flailing and twisting to keep the perfectly legal headlock out of Al’s view just makes the ref more confused.
As for Alejandra, she’s so angry at Saad’s antics that she just redoubles the pressure… until Al is suddenly calling in her ear. “I’m sorry, but break the hold!” the ref cries. “I can’t see if it’s a choke or not.”
The Latina looks at him like he’s nuts. “How can you even say that, ref? It’s clearly a headlock!” Meanwhile, the Arab princess plays up her condition even more, while the powerhouse’s grip slackens as her focus is drawn away.
The put-upon ref is forced to simply make the best call he can… so he starts counting. Normally, Alejandra would break immediately, a scrupulous follower of the rules of the ring, but this time, in utter frustration, she grinds down one more time, hard… but when Al gets to two, Alicea growls as she shoves the Jewel of Jordan away from her as she breaks the hold, whirling on the put-upon ref.
“Madre de Dios!” the Puerto Rican Spitfire shouts as she runs her hands through her silky black locks. “How can you fall for her lies?”
“I’m sorry, Alejandra, I have to call this fair and--” Al tries to get out, but both he and the FAWNatics looking on at this spectacle cry out in unison. “Look out!”
The Latina’s eyes widen as she turns, only to meet another pair of the desert huntress’s boots that crash square into her chest. Totally caught off-guard, Alejandra lets out a cry as she is thrown backward, accidentally bowling over the ref whose thrown clear into the ropes. Alia herself neatly lands in a crouch, ignoring the ache in her neck and chest, and lunges at the staggering Spitfire, claws ready to take advantage of the ref’s current predicament.
The crowd unleashes a chorus of boos, not that they can do anything else, as the exotic princess first brings her nails in a savage rake across Alejandra’s eyes, and as the bigger woman lets out a cry of pain and instinctively covers up her injured face, Alia brings those claws with terrible ferocity down Alejandra’s breasts, which only elicits another agonized shout. Al manages to regain his composure just in time to see the perfectly legal and perfectly devastating combination of Alia’s knee driving hard into Alejandra’s washboard abs and the follow-up DDT the moment the Latina bows over from the strike.
The ring shudders from the impact, and a terrible smile slips across Alia’s face as she quickly turns, rolls the stunned Alejandra over on her shoulders, then slinks across her frame, straddling her hips as the Arab princess holds the Puerto Rican’s wrists down for a rather sensual pin.
Al doesn’t know how everything turned so fast, but he knows his job, so he dutifully drops down to count.
ONE!...
His hand doesn’t even start to drop for two before the Caribbean Crush roars and bridges with authority, tossing Saad over her head roughly. The experienced veteran almost seems to have expected this, neatly rolling and coming up quickly to her knees, while the bigger girl is forced to roll over and scramble to try to get a vertical base before the Jewel of Jordan strikes again.
Alia does indeed recover faster, moving with a dancer’s grace as she slips around Alejandra as she comes up on her hands and knees. A deadly shadow looming behind her, Alicea throws out a backward elbow to ward off her opponent, but Saad has Alejandra well-scouted, slipping like a sinuous snake past the elbow. Missing the strike puts the Spitfire off-balance at the same time it puts her in a perfect position for the Jewel of Jordan.
Alejandra feels a familiar pair of slender but toned arms slide around her neck and throat, but before she can try to buck her foe, Alia locks in a textbook sleeper hold, taking great pleasure in grinding her perfect breasts against her foe’s muscular back. As the still kneeling powerhouse’s hands fly up to look for a gap or handhold in the sleeper, the desert princess leans her head just close enough to whisper in the Puerto Rican’s ears.
“You adore this, don’t you? Being at my mercy, knowing what will come when I win,” she taunts viciously as Alejandra’s vision dims and her limbs feel weak from the effects of the hold. “Infidel cur, you should just lie down and accept your fate. Your little bitch and the Decker girl can’t save you from yourself, can they?”
With every word, she cinches in the sleeper deeper, feeling assured that victory is hers… but she doesn’t see the Spitfire’s eyes when Saad says the word ‘bitch’. What had been angry turns into volcanic fury at Alia’s implications and more so bringing the woman she loves and her friends into this. Clarity burns through the fuzziness, but the desert princess doesn’t realize the change in situation herself until she feels strong hands reach to cup the back of her thighs.
Suddenly, despite the sleeper hold sapping her strength, Alejandra pushes to her feet while simultaneously lifting up on Alia’s legs, pulling her off her feet and into a piggyback position. Furious herself at this insolence, the imperious royal shouts and squeezes hard on the sleeper, an act that makes Alejandra stagger but not fall. Then Alia feels one of the powerhouse’s hands slip from her leg to grab the top of the exotic princess’s head a split second before Alejandra falls backward into a crude backpack stunner!
Saad’s chin slams hard onto Alejandra’s chiseled shoulder and neck while her bountiful ass crashes into the hard canvas. The explosive move breaks the sleeper definitively, Alia bouncing backward to collapse on the canvas, but Alejandra is in little better shape, her body jarred from the reversal as well suffering from the lingering effects of the sleeper. As the Jewel of Jordan clutches her jaw and tries to recover, the Puerto Rican Powerhouse falls over on her side, chest heaving as she tries to get oxygen back into her body and brain.
Both exotic beauties struggle back to their feet in stages, on a knee, bent over, and finally upright. Alia closer to the ropes leans back on the strands for support, Alejandra wipes her face trying to refocus. With the fog in her head lifting, Alicea sees her enemy barely standing against the ropes, Alia looks ready to fall back to the canvas. Rushing at the Princess, Alejandra extends her arm to clothesline Saad.
Again the veteran has lured the rookie into a false assumption. While she is hurting, Alia is not as feeble as she appears. When Alejandra arrives the Desert Flower ducks the clothesline and rams her shoulder into the six-pack abs of the Spitfire. Alia grunts as she uses her legs to lift Alejandra up over the top rope and send her spilling down to the outside. Alicea clears the ropes, but not the ring apron. As she tumbles down her back hits against the least padded part of the ring. She then continues on to the floor.
Carpenter watches unbelieving, stammering, “Wha...What? Back away from the ropes, Alia.”
The Jewel of Jordan ignores the use of her given name, as she drops down and rolls out under the bottom rope to stand next to the crumpled rookie. The sashay returns to the Princess’s stride as she moves over to where Alejandra lies, reaching down Saad uses her foe’s long straight black hair to haul the Puerto Rican to her feet. Taking a wrist and shoulder Alia pulls Alejandra to her feet and points her at the steel steps at the corner of the ring. The smaller Desert Flower whips the muscular beauty and Alicea collides with the metal with a resounding boom!
The Spitfire hits with her right shoulder, knocking the stairs ajar, but as often in the battle between steel and flesh, steel wins. In the ring, Algeron counts both women out, but it’s a long way to the 20 count needed in FAWN. Alia’s hips sway as she covers the distance to the curled-up Alejandra, The Desert Flower uses her boot to force the Boricua powerhouse to her back. From there, Alia turns and hops to the ring apron, Alicea barely moving fails to get clear as the Arab Aristocrat leaps, driving the point of her elbow between Alejandra’s halter top encased breasts.
The Caribbean Crush looks like she’s hit with a bolt of electricity as her body spasms, and Alia remains in place for a moment, enjoying the pained look of Alejandra’s features. The Jewel of Jordan hooks an arm around Alicea’s head to bring the rookie back up with her. Saad ensures the Puerto Rican’s face is pressed to the Princess’s side boob as she leads her along the ring to the center. The Arabian woman pushes Alejandra’s head under the bottom rope. Letting the rookie prop on the ring apron Saad reaches her hand between muscular thighs and grips Alicea’s womanhood.
Alejandra, fearing the worst, groans, “Puta Madre.”
Alia does tighten her grip, but she’s also lifting the Spitfire back into the ring. Feeling the pressure down below, Alejandra is able to pull herself into the ring to hasten the process. Once the rookie is back inside, Saad rolls under the ring to join her. The Caribbean Crush tries to crawl then push up to her hands and knees, but by the time she does, the Desert Hunter is straddling her and drops all one hundred and twenty-one pounds down on Alejandra’s spine.
Driven back down to the canvas the black-haired beauty grunts as Saad wiggles her butt up the rookie’s back until she can take each wrist of the flattened girl and pull them up across the Jewel’s shapely legs. The Desert Flower cups the Spitfire’s chin, pulling her into the Camel Clutch.
Alia leans her head forward to put her lips next to Alejandra’s ear, whispering, “All those muscles, and you still love to be dominated.”
The Jewel of Jordan, working to dig deeper in Alicea’s psyche, brings her left arm across the Puerto Rican’s face so her chin is in the crook of Saad’s elbow. A wicked grin crossing the Desert Flower’s face as her now free right hand slides down the Spitfire’s sweaty chest. The Powerhouse moans as she feels the Arab’s hand force its way into her halter top, before the cry of pain as Alia begins mauling her breast.
With a hiss of an adder, Alia whispers, “You can’t help yourself, can you?”
Alejandra is really getting sick of this bitch.
Trying to refocus, Alicea is able to slip her arms off Alia’s thighs and begins to power out of the camel clutch. Not wanting a repeat of the backpack stunner, the Jewel of Jordan yanks back on the Spitfire’s head, trying to take her back down to the canvas. As the pair of exotic wrestlers fall, the Puerto Rican woman pushes off, and with the extra momentum, Alejandra rolls back over Alia’s body, coming up on her knees with Alia laid out before her. With all her pent-up anger, the Caribbean Crush slaps her hands together and slams a double axe-handle down on Alia’s Mounts Jordan.
The blow steals Alia’s breath, and the Puerto Rican Spitfire lifts her rival up into a seated position. Alejandra wraps her arms around Saad’s torso and slides them up under the Princess’s impressive rack. Showing off all the time she’s spent in the gym, Alicea lifts the lightweight with her as she stands, trapping Alia in the reverse bearhug. Alejandra pours all her frustration and rage into the hold, the Princess’s boobs bulging out of her top, dark areola peeking out the top. Alia’s face reddens, and it looks like the Caribbean Crush might just squeeze the Prince out. The FAWNatics are on their feet now, cheering Alejandra on.
Maybe because she can’t see the effect of the reverse bearhug, Alejandra tosses the Princess to the canvas like a discarded toy. Shaking her arms out and catching a few needed breaths, Alejandra stalks around the mewling Royal. Leery of the times tonight she’s fallen into the Desert Fox’s traps, the Boricua powerhouse stomps her boot down on the olive-skinned beauty’s shoulder. Satisfied this isn’t one of her traps, Alejandra scrapes Alia off the canvas and pulls the Desert Flower into a front facelock. Looking out over the crowd, the Caribbean Crush flips Saad’s near arm over her shoulders and reaches down for a handful of the fabric at Alia’s hip and hoists the Princess up for a suplex.
At the apex of the move, the Puerto Rican Powerhouse halts and holds the lightweight inverted. Alia’s feet point at the rafters, and her head is suspended upside down towards the canvas as Alejandra begins walking in a small circle. After a few seconds, the crowd begins to count how long she can hold the vertical suplex. The count reaches fifteen, then twenty, and amazingly, there is no quiver in Alicea’s powerful frame. The count continues, thirty! The Caribbean Crush looks to be going for Wendy Smith’s moniker of Suplex Machine when she finally falls back, sending Alia crashing into the thinly padded plywood.
DELAYED VERTICAL SUPLEX:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=5FWT4VsKL5c
The ring rattles from the impact and Alia arches her back nearly flopping over on to her stomach before settling back down to the mat. Alejandra sits up and takes several deep breaths to recharge her oxygen supply. The pay-per-view crowd is going nuts, they want to see Alejandra’s revenge completed, but the match has been long and hard, and Alejandra is feeling it. In Puerto Rico, the competition was good, but FAWN and Alia are a new level for the rookie. It’s not respect for the Desert Flower that Alicea is feeling, just the reality that she needs to step up her game here in FAWN.
As that fleeting thought crosses the Puerto Rican’s mind, she crawls over and mounts Alia with a crossbody pin and hooks the leg. Al was already moving into position.
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
The Desert Flower uses all of the count that she dares before her body jerks and her far arm shoots into the air, pulling her shoulder off the mat.
While not Alejandra’s finisher, the delayed Vertical Suplex did win her matches down in the Caribbean Circuits. This is a new world, the rookie reminds herself. She reaches out to bring Alia back up with her as she stands. It’s good that the dirty Princess kicked out, Alejandra tells herself, she has more to pay for.
With that in mind, the Caribbean Crush muscles Saad back against the ropes before sending her off with an Irish Whip. Alicea moves to the center of the ring ready to deal out more payback for Alia’s transgressions. The rookie and the crowd are disappointed though as the Desert Flower goes into a baseball slide and passes under the bottom rope and lands on her feet outside the ring.
The Jewel of Jordan basically just called ‘Time out’ as she rubs her back with one hand and the other presses to her sore bosom. The act of cowardice brings out a chorus of boos from the FAWN faithful, which Alia blithely ignores. Those stupid idiots wouldn’t know tactics if it dropped on their heads.
Not that this time-out lasts long. Before Al can even count to two, a furious Alejandra, perhaps unwisely, stomps across the ring while Alia is stooped over, trying to walk out the pain in her back and chest. She doesn’t even notice the rookie powerhouse’s approach until she’s already sliding under the ring to the outside, and by the time Alia turns to face the furious Latina, the bigger woman is reaching out to grab hold of her head.
Saad lets out a cry of alarm as those strong hands take hold that turns into one of pain and shock as Alejandra swiftly brings the Arab princess’s face down to kiss the ring apron. As Alia’s nogging rebounds off the barely-padded boards, Alicea wastes no time before turning the exotic beauty towards the guardrails and Irish whipping her into them. Only hard-won ring experience gives Alia the instinct to turn and catch the steel with her side instead of her back, but even so, the hit rips a gasp from her full lips.
Alejandra wipes her brow and sucks in a deep breath as Alia languishes on the railing a moment. Al is only up to a 5 count, and while the Puerto Rican prefers to do her fighting in the ring, all the pent-up frustration at the cheating, manipulative Saad gets the better of her. She steps forward, grabs the Desert Flower’s smooth shoulder, and pushes her foe flat against the barrier.
“You like touching my breasts, nena?” she growls. “Let’s see how you like it when I touch yours!” She then proceeds to lay out a series of four big, swinging open-palm chops, two across each of Alia’s magnificent breasts. The stinging smacks resound across the arena and the FAWNatics let out a raucous cheer both at Alejandra’s display of dominance and the alluring jiggling of the Jewel of Jordan’s goods.
After the barrage, Alia is a gasping, whimpering mess on the barricade, Al is to an 8 count, and Alejandra’s own chest heaves with the exertion. Good sense would be for her to take this back in the ring, her training tells her that too, but despite her agony, Alia manages to flash a cruel smirk at the Puerto Rican, and she loses her cool. She takes two stomping steps back, turns like an angry bull, and charges, looking to flatten the princess between her muscular body and the rails.
And like a snake sliding across the sands, the battered Saad spins out of the way at the last second, falling to the mats outside the ring and safety. Alejandra tries to stop her charge, but all she manages to do is turn so that her gut takes the impact instead of her right shoulder, saving her limb at the cost of having every bit of precious oxygen impaled out of her lungs.
In no good shape herself, it takes Alia a few seconds to recover, but she makes it to her feet well ahead of Alejandra. Wheezing and gasping, the powerhouse hangs limply over the barricade for a few moments, but by the time she starts to regain her senses, the desert falcon is back to descending on her prey.
Al holds up both hands as he calls out the 10-count. Alia licks her lips and gets two solid clawfuls of Alejandra’s long locks, making sure to dig her nails into the scalp as she peels Alicea off the guardrails. The princess doesn’t want to be counted out or win by one either. She wants the Puerto Rican groveling at her feet, so this has to end in the ring.
With a dominant cry like the royal warrior she is, Alia takes two fast steps towards the ring, hauling her unwilling victim forward by the hair, before chucking Alejandra scalp-first up and onto the apron. The Latina lets out a pained cry as her roots are sorely tested, then again as Alia hops first up the apron, then, using the ropes as a guide, up into a double foot stomp on Alicea’s chest, crushing her impressive breasts against her ribs.
With a feral smile, sweat running down her face, and hair as wild as a lion’s mane, the desert huntress then slinks through the ropes, only turning to haul her seemingly lifeless prey back into the ring by an arm and a leg. Alia grunts and drags her battered foe a few feet to the nearest turnbuckle, kicks her once in the ribs HARD for good measure, then grins imperiously at the crowd.
“Yes! Watch and boo, you spineless curs, as I destroy the object of your little hopes and dreams!” Alia calls out above the din, almost relishing the chorus of boos she gets in return. Without skipping a beat, she leaps up to the second turnbuckle, uses the spring of the cables to bounce herself higher, and recoils her legs off the top ropes, flipping over into her signature Jordanian Press!
JORDANIAN PRESS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=g-0Q2dKKuuU
There’s a sickening thwack of flesh on flesh as the desert falcon divebombs onto the Spitfire, and the Latina’s legs jackknife as she spasms from the impact. Alia immediately capitalizes, grabbing one of those muscular stems as it is still in the air before pressing down, chest-to-chest, and pinning Alejandra’s shoulders to the mat.
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
At the very last moment, the Puerto Rican Powerhouse finds some shred of intestinal fortitude and kicks out, shoving up hard enough to throw Alia back on her calves in the process. Alia lets out a screech of her own frustration, glaring over her shoulder at Al and clapping her hands over her heads three times in rapid succession. It’s a clear sign of her disdain at the ref’s utter inability to count, even though she herself was saved by what she sees as a ‘slow count.’
Alejandra, for her part, can only languish on the mat, resting on her side, trying to suck in enough air to function as she cradles her arms protectively over her tortured chest. One leg kicks slowly, like a biker trying to kickstart the engine of a shoddy motorcycle and with as much success. By the time Alia has finished berating the ref, some small signs of life return to the battered Latina, and she rolls over onto her stomach and begins to reach for the nearby ropes. Upon seeing that act of continued defiance, the Jewel of Jordan goes wide-eyed, tugging at her hair in frustration before quickly getting to her feet.
Such insolence must be stamped out!
Just before Alejandra’s hand drops down on the bottom rope, Alia does just that, stomping down hard with her heel on the outstretched hand. Alicea somehow bites back a mournful cry into a growl roiling in her throat, but that’s all she can manage when Saad snatches her long tresses once more. Using them as leverage to force the bigger girl to rise, the desert huntress then slips her slim, toned arms around the Puerto Rican’s thick waist.
“Fine,” she hisses into Alejandra’s ear as she cinches in the waistlock. “If you wish to be beaten like a dog before I degrade you again, I’ll beat you like the dog you are!” With those words, Alia tries to snap the Latina over into a German Suplex, the first of her deadly Cradle of Civilization combination… but somehow, when she tugs, her foe doesn’t fly through the air.
When Alia glances over, she sees something she thought the rookie would be too unskilled to do… Alejandra bent just enough forward to grab the top rope on either side of the turnbuckle with her powerful arms and bulled down. Fury runs through the desert princess, then she slams an elbow into the Puerto Rican’s chiseled back. When Alejandra recoils, Saad tries again to suplex her out of the corner, but once more, Alejandra holds on for dear life.
“Very well,” Alia hisses as she lets go of the hold and reaches for Alejandra’s head, “every moment you defy me means a fresh moment I will revisit on you after my victory!”
Something in what she says spurs new life into the exhausted Alicea, for when Alia makes to grab her head, Alejandra roars and throws a sudden, stiff elbow backward, catching the desert princess right in her beautiful face. With a sudden shout of pain, Saad’s head recoils back and she clutches her face as she retreats back a step, relieved to find that her nose only feels like it’s broken. As she pulls her hands away, ready to torture her victim some more, Alia’s eyes widen in shock when what she finds is a lunging Alejandra, followed by those two powerful arms scooping up into a simple but devastating bear hug.
Many FAWNatics and trained photographers snap off pictures as Alia and Alejandra’s breasts compress together, bulging as the space given them is nowhere near the volume needed. The Puerto Rican Spitfire lifts the Princess off her feet and moves to the center of the squared circle. Sweat pours off the Latina’s back as she holds the Desert Flower aloft.
Alia gets her arms over Alicea’s shoulders, but a new squeeze of those powerful arms stops the Jewel of Jordan from anything but gasping in pain. The Desert Flower appears to be wilting in the Spitfire’s embrace as Alia’s head droops.
Al, standing by closely to watch, asks, “What do you say, Alia? Let me know you’re still with us.”
The Caribbean Crush remembers the number of tourists she defeated with this very hold on the beaches of Puerto Rico and selling the tourists back their own bikini afterward. Maybe she would take Alia’s as a prize. The thoughts of victory are too soon, however, as the Desert Flower springs to life and hammers her fists several times into the side of Alicea’s neck. When the Spitfire’s arms relax, the Desert Fox springs to life, wrapping her legs around Alejandra’s solid trunk and arms snaking around her head as she pulls the black-haired beauty down into the canvas with a DDT.
A weary Alia shoves a barely conscious Alejandra off her, and both lay staring at the bright overhead arena lights. The rise and fall of chests is the only sign of life for several seconds while Al checks on both of his charges and then starts the count for a double count-out.
Al walks around the pair of warrior women. “ONE… TWO… THREE… FOUR…”
Alia’s legs begin moving, and Alejandra rubs her forehead where a red spot has already formed. Carpenter pauses for a second but then continues, “FIVE… SIX… SEVEN…”
Out of time, both women stir and struggle back up on to their boots, Alia’s top askew, her right nipple peeking over the top. Alejandra staggers forward, hoping to bear down on her hated rival again, but the Desert Flower uses her quickness to lash out with a European Uppercut that snaps the rookie’s head back. Most FAWN lightweights would have been floored by the blow, but Alejandra stays upright, which turns out to not be a good thing. Alia steps in close and reaches around, grabbing a pair of lusty handfuls of glutes. As she lifts, the Jewel of Jordan slides her hands down Alicea’s thighs. The Arabian lightweight drops to one knee as Alejandra’s crotch slams into the posted thigh of the Desert Flower.
INVERTED ATOMIC DROP:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=E5oplX4bUbI
Alejandra springs off the Jewel’s thigh and flops to her back on the canvas. Alia wearily grins as she sees her opponent helpless. Crawling on hands and knees, the Jewel of Jordan makes her way to Alejandra, pushing the Caribbean Crush to her stomach. The Middle Eastern beauty then pulls the Latina’s hips up, and as the crowd roar warnings to Alejandra, Alia locks a wicked crotch claw on to the center of the rookie’s trunks.
The Spitfire wails out in pain as her womanhood is assaulted again by the Desert Fox, her hand quivers as her first thought is to tap out to the pain, but NO!. The Caribbean Crush steels her mind, with one thought: “Not like this. Never like this.”
Alia has trained her whole life to take on not just other lightweights but bigger women such as Alejandra. The claw hold often counters size advantage in the Princess’s experience, so Saad adjusts her body to keep weight on top of Alicea’s hips to the trip to the ropes will be more daunting. The Puerto Rican Spitfire digs her elbows into the canvas and pulls forward, though each time, it increases the pain in her private area. Making small gains, Alejandra wonders if her will can hold out, trapped in such a wicked hold.
FAWNatics support only helps so much, but the crowd is clearly behind Alejandra. They worry when, close to the ropes, the Puerto Rican Powerhouse sags, her cheek resting on the canvas. Maybe she won’t be able to escape. Alia hammers her free arm down across Alejandra’s lower back during the pause, which, instead of keeping the Caribbean Crush in place, seems to spur her the final foot or two.
Alejandra screams out, “BREAK!” as her hand encircles the bottom rope.
The Jewel of Jordan lets out a frustrated screech as Al moves in to call for the break, but to the ref’s surprise, she lets go before he even has to count to one. Alejandra lets out a gasp of momentary relief, but her womanhood is still burning with pain and her knees feel like jelly as she tries to use the ropes to clamber to her feet.
But what seemed like a momentary spark of mercy in the cruel Alia does not last for long. Instead of letting the Latina rise, the Desert Princess only takes a moment to suck in a deep breath and throw off Al, confused for a moment at Saad’s surprising attention to the rope break that he backs off instead of guarding Alejandra’s rise. Alicea is only up to one knee, desperately using the ropes for support, when, with all the grace of a hunting hawk, Alia swoops in on her prey.
Something deep down, some last ember of resistance seems to flare up inside the Caribbean Crush, though. Just as the Desert Flower lunges to sink her claws in, Alejandra turns her shoulder into the charging Arab as she pushes up with her powerful legs. Alia lets out a gasp as hard shoulder meets firm stomach and then a shrill cry of shock as the Puerto Rican strongwoman keeps pushing upward. As Alejandra surges up to a standing position, she heaves with both arms on Alia’s thighs, sending her foe into the air and over the top rope.
Even as the Desert Hawk crashes and burns onto the mats below, Alejandra’s knees give out and she collapses back down, barely catching herself on her palms. Sweat pours off her, and her chest heaves as she tries to rally herself. Even though she’s amazingly fit, Alia has pushed her to her limits and perhaps beyond them… not that the Jewel of Jordan is faring much better at the moment, splayed out like a dead fish outside the ring.
Al almost starts a double count-out again, but Alejandra forces herself onward, spurred by the raucous, cheering crowd. Like a thirsty woman in a desert, Alicea seems to drink in those cheers to keep going, rolling under the ropes to land on unsteady feet to the ringside area. Saad is barely stirring, groaning as her chest heaves, her top just barely staying on. Alejandra sees a golden opportunity, a chance to revisit a small measure of what Alia did to her in their last match and reclaim a measure of her hurt pride. As the ref starts counting the twenty-count, Alejandra grins wearily and kneels down over the glassy-eyed Arab.
“You took something of mine last time, Princess Puta,” she says between deep breaths, “so turn about is fair play.” With that, she grabs the middle string of the bikini and pulls.
The sudden motion seems to bring the Jewel of Jordan back to the moment, and just as she glares wide-eyed up Alejandra, the barely-holding on ties of the bikini top give way. Alia is dumped unceremoniously flat-backed onto the mats again, sending another shock through her aching back, while Alejandra comes away with a prize. Clenching the pure white top in one fist, Alicea holds it up for the cheers of the crowd, then tucks it into the waistband of her bottoms for safekeeping.
The Arab princess is trying to rise while Alejandra shows off her prize, managing to flop over onto her bare chest as she tries to use her utter outrage at this infidel cur’s gall as fuel to fight back. This time, though, it is the Puerto Rican Powerhouse that is the huntress, driving a big double axehandle into the rising woman’s bare back with enough force to drive her back down to the mat.
“FIVE!...” Al counts as he watches Alejandra pull the wilted flower off the thin mats by the head and hair. Still breathing hard, Alicea does take a moment to admire the bountiful breasts she’s uncovered, but before she gives Saad too much satisfaction, she drives a forearm into Alia’s chin to keep her stunned, then rallies herself long enough to scoop up the smaller girl one more time.
The FAWNatics let out a wild cheer, anticipating a big body slam on the hard ringside floor or perhaps on the barricade, but Alejandra, truly incensed at her rival, one-ups all those hopes. She turns towards the announcers’ tables and begins a march. While at her full strength, the Puerto Rican Powerhouse would make this look easy, it’s clear to everyone that in her current state, every step is a struggle, but she soldiers on. The announce team clears out as, with one deep breath, Alejandra dumps Alia hard right down on the table, sending monitors, keyboards, and paperwork flying, but not hard enough to put the Jewel of Jordan through the table.
Not yet anyway.
“EIGHT!...” comes the ref’s count. With how heated this match is and how on the edge of their seats the FAWN faithful are, it seems as if Al is purposefully slowing the count. Not that it turns out that he needs to worry, because, to the renewed cheers of the crowd, Alejandra doesn’t immediately attack Alia, sprawled out spread eagle and exposed across the table.
No, she turns to the ring, rolling under the ropes to break the count, and then mounts the turnbuckles closest to Alia. While primarily a power wrestler, the Caribbean Crush has been known to fly from time to time, and now, she feels this is the time. This is how she can put Alia away once and for all. The crowd practically goes silent as the exotic beauty stands tall on the top turnbuckle, gathers her resolve, and then leaps like a pouncing tigress, turning into a devastating elbow drop all the way down onto Alia…
… except that the Jewel of Jordan rolls at seemingly the last moment. Even though she lands roughly on the ringside mats, it is a far, far, FAR softer landing than Alejandra, whose fit form explodes right through the table.
At this point, the match may have ended in a double count-out, except seeing the Caribbean Crush go through the table brings Al out of the ring to check on her and then Alia. The later is now sitting up and crawls towards the wreckage of the announce table. Reaching out, the Jewel of Jordan hooks her hand around the back strap of Alejandra’s halter top, trying to pull her foe out, but the fabric gives way and Alia drops back on her round ass, holding the remains of the Puerto Rican flag colored halter.
On the second try, Alia hauls Alejandra out of the folded table and leads her back towards the ring. The Spitfire is only semi-aware this time of the Desert Flower’s hand on her womanhood, but this time, it’s only to get the black-haired beauty back into the ring. The Powerhouse rolls to a stop on her back in the ring, her breasts rolling on her chest. Breathing heavy and clearly hurting herself, Saad climbs into the ring and over to her foe and straddles her stomach. Vengeance is clearly on the mind of the Princess as she begins mauling Alejandra’s boobs.
The Puerto Rican Spitfire’s eyes flutter, and she tries to bring her hands up to protect her fleshy orbs, but the Wrath of Jordan won’t allow it. After several long moments, Alia pauses and presses down on both of Alejandra’s breasts as she stands. Moving to the rookie’s head, Saad hauls Alicea back up to jello legs by her hair, the Latina’s thick muscles seeming to be slack. Controlling the Spitfire with a front facelock, the Jewel of Jordan reaches down, hooking one leg in her arm, and here, at the end of this epic battle, she shows she still has enough to lift the bigger Alejandra and turn her over delivering the ring-rattling Djinn’s Blessing.
DJINN’S BLESSING:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=v1WsM7BfAHA
The impact bounces Alejandra out of Alia’s grip, but that hardly concerns the Desert Flower. The Powerhouse spasms once and then goes still while Saad slithers on top of the woman. Alia places one muscular arm between her thighs, the second, she pulls behind Alejandra’s own head as she lays across the Spitfire’s body. FAWNatics know this hold, and once locked in, all hope for Alejandra will be gone. Alia tenses her body and pulls up on the limp arm, bringing Alicea’s face up into the Globes of Jordan. Trapped in the Amman Anaconda, Alejandra’s legs twitch, but the woman soon passes into blissful unconsciousness.
With nothing to check, Al wonders if he should just call the match now. The slow leg kicks have stopped, and Alejandra has been motionless for too long now. Not out of kindness but more Alia’s need for dominance, she opens her legs, letting the limp arm free and demands, “Check her!”
Carpenter moves to obey, and lifts the arm once, twice, and a final time. When the limb thumps to the mat the final time, Al quickly turns, calling for the bell.
While she still hasn’t released the Spitfire, Alia wearily grins as the ring announcer makes it official, “YOUR WINNER, BY KNOCKOUT… THE DESERT FLOWER… ALIA SAAD!”
Finally, the Jewel of Jordan allows the Spitfire to drop, her face covered in mingled sweat and spittle that foams around her mouth. Lost in her Jugg Shock unconsciousness, Alejandra is unaware of the hand slipping inside her trunks as Alia looks to humiliate the Puerto Rican further. With her other hand, Saad pulls her top from Alejandra’s waistband and reclaims the prize.
As Alejandra faces another post-match humiliation, this one looks to be worse, because she not only is being abused but lost the match. The only silver lining is that, this time, the Spitfire is unaware it is happening.
However, after what happened in the aftermath of the last clash between Alia and Alejandra, it is clear that there have been two watching the match closely, and they rush out, heading for the ring, two very different ‘Jinxes’: J!nxx, the rookie wrestler, and Trixie Decker.
J!nxx:
Trixie ‘Jinx’ Decker:
The roar of the FAWNatics warns the Desert Flower, and while she hates to give up a hard-won humiliation of an Infidel, there is no way after that battle she can withstand two other FAWN wrestlers. The Jewel of Jordan rolls out of the ring and slips around the broken announcer’s table to escape out one of the entrances to backstage nearby.
Unlike last time, though, there are no shouted taunts from Trixie. Alia’s slunk out like the snake she is, and this time, Decker’s friend has taken way more of a beating than last time. J!nxx is already by her girlfriend’s side as is Al, but thankfully, it looks like there is no permanent damage, at least to Alicea’s body. As J!nxx and Trixie help a shaky Spitfire to her feet and to the back, it’s clear that worse than all the bruises and aches is the sharp sting of loss in her eyes, both at the match and her ring gear.
So it’s no surprise then when the lights come to life at the entrance ramp of the arena, the FAWNatics in attendance break into frenetic cheers at the prospect of another thrilling match. Before the electricity fully dies down, the sound system crackles on as the ring announcer’s bombastic voice echoes out across the jam-packed room.
“Laaaaadies and gentlemen, our next bout is a standard match scheduled for one fall!” At the announcer’s voice, the crowd dies down to a low roar, eager to see who will be squaring off in this contest. “Coming to the ring first, from Bayamón, Puerto Rico… at 5 foot 4 inches and 136 pounds… the Puerto Rican Spitfire, ALEJANDRA ALICEA!”
“SOY YO” BY BOMBA ESTERO
www.youtube.com/watch?v=bxWxXncl53U
ALEJANDRA ALICEA:
As the song’s bouncing beat gets the FAWNatics on their feet, eager for the Latina Powerhouse’s appearance, they aren’t disappointed as Alejandra bursts through the curtain and spreads her chiseled arms wide to the crowd. However, instead of her usual peppy, upbeat expression, there is an intense fire in her eyes, and while she smiles to the fans, she holds an intensity beyond her usual 110%. Still, she takes a long moment posing to let the crowd take in every inch of her fit, muscular frame.
Either the fans love this extra intensity or they just don’t care, because they explode into fresh cheers. She is decked out in her traditional ring gear: a halter-type style sports top that hugs her breasts with the motif of the Puerto Rican flag while highlighting her sculpted back and shoulders and high-cut blue Lycra shorts that show off her washboard abs and powerful legs. Short wrestling boots, taped wrists, and bicep bands, the right side red and the left side white, round out her apparel.
With a nod to the fans, Alejandra breaks into a brisque jog to the ring, a pace faster than usual as she claps hands with fans on the way to the ring. Once she hits ringside, she hops up to the canvas, stretches out against the top rope, then leans back, using the flex of the cable to vault over and into the ring. She bounces a few times on her toes in the landing before looking to the crowd. With a faint smile and a renewed cheer, the Puerto Rican Spitfire gives them the show they want, a flex of her exquisitely chiseled arms… but then the playfulness fades as she stares daggers towards where she knows Alia Saad will appear from at any second.
The crowd at Summer Swelter gets on their feet when 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 white bikini with Arabic scrolled on the seat of her bottoms in a deep, arterial red. Her pads are a similar red, as are her white 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, “Alejandra Beat You!", 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. More surprising, the Desert Flower doesn’t show any acknowledgment of her opponent. While Alicea glares at the Jewel of Jordan, Alia hasn’t even glanced her way.
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 get her revenge on the rookie infidel. She knows she took some Puerto Rican pride away last time, this time she plans to take even more.
Al calls for the bell, and the crowd roars!
Alejandra tries taking a direct line at the Princess, but Alia circles making the Puerto Rican give chase. The smaller Desert Flower leads the Puerto Rican Powerhouse around the inside of the ring twice, slipping by each time Alejandra gets close. The first boos start coming from the fans as Alicea stops, putting hands on her hips as she asks, “You afraid, Princess Puta?”
The Jewel of Jordan squares off with the muscular beauty, hips cocked to one side as she answers, “Cur, the Desert Huntress fears no one. My royal intelligence and skills are just greater than yours.”
The rookie tilts her head. “QUE?”
The Princess huffs a sigh and mutters, “Exactly.”
Alejandra, deciding it doesn’t matter, raises her arms and moves in for a collar and elbow. Alia starts in, but just before they would lock up, the Jewel of Jordan puts both hands on Alicea’s chest and shoves. The move hardly budges Alejandra, but it allows Alia to move back out of the Puerto Rican’s reach.
Turning to Carpenter, Saad complains, “She has something on her skin.”
The rookie throws her hands up and wipes down her arms. “There is nothing there!”
Al looks doubtful. “I already checked her, she’s fine, ‘Your Highness’”
The Desert Flower walks to the ropes and stands defiantly until Al gives up and snorts. “Fine”
As he walks over to Alejandra, Carpenter apologizes, “Sorry about this, but let me see your arms.”
The Puerto Rican Powerhouse’s jaw drops, “Are you serious. This puta whines and you obey?”
This is one of those nights that Al’s job is going to be more difficult than most. He nods towards Alejandra. “The quicker we do this, the quicker you can get to kicking her ass.”
“I heard that!” the Princess chimes in.
With a huff, Alejandra extends her arms, allowing the referee to check. As he does so, from behind Alia cries, “Her legs! Check her legs.”
Al sighs his head, dropping forward. “I’m sorry.”
Alejandra looks suspicious, this man is getting to feel a lot of her body. Then the rookie raises her left leg first then the right. Al’s face is a little red as he turns towards the Princess, saying, “She’s clean, are you satisfied?”
Alia nods and steps from the ropes. Alejandra charges like the bull in an arena, tired of the Royal’s bullshit. This time, though, the Desert Fox comes out, and Alia catches the rushing girl in her washboard abs with a boot. Alicea’s cheeks puff as she’s stopped in her tracks, then the Princess puts her left hand on the back of the doubled-over woman’s head as her right arm cuts up through the air like a scimitar, clapping Alejandra along the jawline with a European Uppercut.
It doesn’t take the strong woman off her feet, but Alejandra does stagger back which allows Alia to launch her boots towards the other exotic beauty. The drop kick catches Alicea clean in the chest, sending her flying backward as she falls to the canvas. As Alia lands lightly on the canvas, Alejandra skids across the mat, coming to a stop near the ropes. The FAWNatics rain down boos on the Desert Flower, but Alia kips up to her feet and heads over towards the rookie.
If Saad thought things were going to be this easy, she is in for a shock. Reaching down for a handful of black hair to bring Alicea back up, the Spitfire shoots a boot up, catching Alia in the top of the head. As Alejandra gets to her feet, Alia drops to her rump, legs out in front of her in a ‘V’ and a stunned look on her face. The rookie stomps over and grabs Alia’s left forearm, her other hand jamming into Alia’s armpit to lift her back to her boots.
Alejandra doesn’t even shift her grip as she points Alia at the ropes and fires her off. Alia has the sense to turn, taking the ropes on her back and being catapulted back towards the irate woman. The Spitfire extends a muscular arm and swings it like a club across the Desert Flower’s bouncing bosom, Alia’s boobs mushroom, and her feet go out from under her. When gravity takes hold she slams into the thinly padded boards flat on her back.
The Puerto Rican Spitfire lets out a shout like she just set a personal lifting record. Even though she won their last encounter, there is clearly unfinished business here as Alejandra lets out a battle cry, leaps up, and drops down with a pinpoint elbow drop right in the middle of the Arab girl’s bountiful chest. Alia lets out a gasp as her legs jackknife from the impact, but the fiery Latina doesn’t rest on her laurels, repeating the move again to the cheers of the crowd.
As she sits up from the second elbow drop, Alejandra wipes her brow and pumps her fist while Alia can only gasp and clutch her aching breasts. Still feeling like she’s on a hot streak, the Boricua powerhouse turns to wrangle the Jewel of Jordan over on her belly, then wraps a strong right arm around her chin. As Alicea cranks on the headlock, she pushes upward, hauling Alia to her feet in the process.
What Alejandra doesn’t quite notice in her anger is that Alia is clearly acting as deadweight even though she’s still got plenty of vim and vigor in her. With a last huff, the fit Latina hauls the beautiful Arab to her feet, then cranks down on the headlock, her chiseled arm and shoulder flaring in relief. Saad lets out a howl of pain… but even more than she should. In fact, she flails wildly and makes exaggerating gasping sounds as she points at her neck. It’s clearly the universal sign of a choke, and the fact that Alia keeps flailing and twisting to keep the perfectly legal headlock out of Al’s view just makes the ref more confused.
As for Alejandra, she’s so angry at Saad’s antics that she just redoubles the pressure… until Al is suddenly calling in her ear. “I’m sorry, but break the hold!” the ref cries. “I can’t see if it’s a choke or not.”
The Latina looks at him like he’s nuts. “How can you even say that, ref? It’s clearly a headlock!” Meanwhile, the Arab princess plays up her condition even more, while the powerhouse’s grip slackens as her focus is drawn away.
The put-upon ref is forced to simply make the best call he can… so he starts counting. Normally, Alejandra would break immediately, a scrupulous follower of the rules of the ring, but this time, in utter frustration, she grinds down one more time, hard… but when Al gets to two, Alicea growls as she shoves the Jewel of Jordan away from her as she breaks the hold, whirling on the put-upon ref.
“Madre de Dios!” the Puerto Rican Spitfire shouts as she runs her hands through her silky black locks. “How can you fall for her lies?”
“I’m sorry, Alejandra, I have to call this fair and--” Al tries to get out, but both he and the FAWNatics looking on at this spectacle cry out in unison. “Look out!”
The Latina’s eyes widen as she turns, only to meet another pair of the desert huntress’s boots that crash square into her chest. Totally caught off-guard, Alejandra lets out a cry as she is thrown backward, accidentally bowling over the ref whose thrown clear into the ropes. Alia herself neatly lands in a crouch, ignoring the ache in her neck and chest, and lunges at the staggering Spitfire, claws ready to take advantage of the ref’s current predicament.
The crowd unleashes a chorus of boos, not that they can do anything else, as the exotic princess first brings her nails in a savage rake across Alejandra’s eyes, and as the bigger woman lets out a cry of pain and instinctively covers up her injured face, Alia brings those claws with terrible ferocity down Alejandra’s breasts, which only elicits another agonized shout. Al manages to regain his composure just in time to see the perfectly legal and perfectly devastating combination of Alia’s knee driving hard into Alejandra’s washboard abs and the follow-up DDT the moment the Latina bows over from the strike.
The ring shudders from the impact, and a terrible smile slips across Alia’s face as she quickly turns, rolls the stunned Alejandra over on her shoulders, then slinks across her frame, straddling her hips as the Arab princess holds the Puerto Rican’s wrists down for a rather sensual pin.
Al doesn’t know how everything turned so fast, but he knows his job, so he dutifully drops down to count.
ONE!...
His hand doesn’t even start to drop for two before the Caribbean Crush roars and bridges with authority, tossing Saad over her head roughly. The experienced veteran almost seems to have expected this, neatly rolling and coming up quickly to her knees, while the bigger girl is forced to roll over and scramble to try to get a vertical base before the Jewel of Jordan strikes again.
Alia does indeed recover faster, moving with a dancer’s grace as she slips around Alejandra as she comes up on her hands and knees. A deadly shadow looming behind her, Alicea throws out a backward elbow to ward off her opponent, but Saad has Alejandra well-scouted, slipping like a sinuous snake past the elbow. Missing the strike puts the Spitfire off-balance at the same time it puts her in a perfect position for the Jewel of Jordan.
Alejandra feels a familiar pair of slender but toned arms slide around her neck and throat, but before she can try to buck her foe, Alia locks in a textbook sleeper hold, taking great pleasure in grinding her perfect breasts against her foe’s muscular back. As the still kneeling powerhouse’s hands fly up to look for a gap or handhold in the sleeper, the desert princess leans her head just close enough to whisper in the Puerto Rican’s ears.
“You adore this, don’t you? Being at my mercy, knowing what will come when I win,” she taunts viciously as Alejandra’s vision dims and her limbs feel weak from the effects of the hold. “Infidel cur, you should just lie down and accept your fate. Your little bitch and the Decker girl can’t save you from yourself, can they?”
With every word, she cinches in the sleeper deeper, feeling assured that victory is hers… but she doesn’t see the Spitfire’s eyes when Saad says the word ‘bitch’. What had been angry turns into volcanic fury at Alia’s implications and more so bringing the woman she loves and her friends into this. Clarity burns through the fuzziness, but the desert princess doesn’t realize the change in situation herself until she feels strong hands reach to cup the back of her thighs.
Suddenly, despite the sleeper hold sapping her strength, Alejandra pushes to her feet while simultaneously lifting up on Alia’s legs, pulling her off her feet and into a piggyback position. Furious herself at this insolence, the imperious royal shouts and squeezes hard on the sleeper, an act that makes Alejandra stagger but not fall. Then Alia feels one of the powerhouse’s hands slip from her leg to grab the top of the exotic princess’s head a split second before Alejandra falls backward into a crude backpack stunner!
Saad’s chin slams hard onto Alejandra’s chiseled shoulder and neck while her bountiful ass crashes into the hard canvas. The explosive move breaks the sleeper definitively, Alia bouncing backward to collapse on the canvas, but Alejandra is in little better shape, her body jarred from the reversal as well suffering from the lingering effects of the sleeper. As the Jewel of Jordan clutches her jaw and tries to recover, the Puerto Rican Powerhouse falls over on her side, chest heaving as she tries to get oxygen back into her body and brain.
Both exotic beauties struggle back to their feet in stages, on a knee, bent over, and finally upright. Alia closer to the ropes leans back on the strands for support, Alejandra wipes her face trying to refocus. With the fog in her head lifting, Alicea sees her enemy barely standing against the ropes, Alia looks ready to fall back to the canvas. Rushing at the Princess, Alejandra extends her arm to clothesline Saad.
Again the veteran has lured the rookie into a false assumption. While she is hurting, Alia is not as feeble as she appears. When Alejandra arrives the Desert Flower ducks the clothesline and rams her shoulder into the six-pack abs of the Spitfire. Alia grunts as she uses her legs to lift Alejandra up over the top rope and send her spilling down to the outside. Alicea clears the ropes, but not the ring apron. As she tumbles down her back hits against the least padded part of the ring. She then continues on to the floor.
Carpenter watches unbelieving, stammering, “Wha...What? Back away from the ropes, Alia.”
The Jewel of Jordan ignores the use of her given name, as she drops down and rolls out under the bottom rope to stand next to the crumpled rookie. The sashay returns to the Princess’s stride as she moves over to where Alejandra lies, reaching down Saad uses her foe’s long straight black hair to haul the Puerto Rican to her feet. Taking a wrist and shoulder Alia pulls Alejandra to her feet and points her at the steel steps at the corner of the ring. The smaller Desert Flower whips the muscular beauty and Alicea collides with the metal with a resounding boom!
The Spitfire hits with her right shoulder, knocking the stairs ajar, but as often in the battle between steel and flesh, steel wins. In the ring, Algeron counts both women out, but it’s a long way to the 20 count needed in FAWN. Alia’s hips sway as she covers the distance to the curled-up Alejandra, The Desert Flower uses her boot to force the Boricua powerhouse to her back. From there, Alia turns and hops to the ring apron, Alicea barely moving fails to get clear as the Arab Aristocrat leaps, driving the point of her elbow between Alejandra’s halter top encased breasts.
The Caribbean Crush looks like she’s hit with a bolt of electricity as her body spasms, and Alia remains in place for a moment, enjoying the pained look of Alejandra’s features. The Jewel of Jordan hooks an arm around Alicea’s head to bring the rookie back up with her. Saad ensures the Puerto Rican’s face is pressed to the Princess’s side boob as she leads her along the ring to the center. The Arabian woman pushes Alejandra’s head under the bottom rope. Letting the rookie prop on the ring apron Saad reaches her hand between muscular thighs and grips Alicea’s womanhood.
Alejandra, fearing the worst, groans, “Puta Madre.”
Alia does tighten her grip, but she’s also lifting the Spitfire back into the ring. Feeling the pressure down below, Alejandra is able to pull herself into the ring to hasten the process. Once the rookie is back inside, Saad rolls under the ring to join her. The Caribbean Crush tries to crawl then push up to her hands and knees, but by the time she does, the Desert Hunter is straddling her and drops all one hundred and twenty-one pounds down on Alejandra’s spine.
Driven back down to the canvas the black-haired beauty grunts as Saad wiggles her butt up the rookie’s back until she can take each wrist of the flattened girl and pull them up across the Jewel’s shapely legs. The Desert Flower cups the Spitfire’s chin, pulling her into the Camel Clutch.
Alia leans her head forward to put her lips next to Alejandra’s ear, whispering, “All those muscles, and you still love to be dominated.”
The Jewel of Jordan, working to dig deeper in Alicea’s psyche, brings her left arm across the Puerto Rican’s face so her chin is in the crook of Saad’s elbow. A wicked grin crossing the Desert Flower’s face as her now free right hand slides down the Spitfire’s sweaty chest. The Powerhouse moans as she feels the Arab’s hand force its way into her halter top, before the cry of pain as Alia begins mauling her breast.
With a hiss of an adder, Alia whispers, “You can’t help yourself, can you?”
Alejandra is really getting sick of this bitch.
Trying to refocus, Alicea is able to slip her arms off Alia’s thighs and begins to power out of the camel clutch. Not wanting a repeat of the backpack stunner, the Jewel of Jordan yanks back on the Spitfire’s head, trying to take her back down to the canvas. As the pair of exotic wrestlers fall, the Puerto Rican woman pushes off, and with the extra momentum, Alejandra rolls back over Alia’s body, coming up on her knees with Alia laid out before her. With all her pent-up anger, the Caribbean Crush slaps her hands together and slams a double axe-handle down on Alia’s Mounts Jordan.
The blow steals Alia’s breath, and the Puerto Rican Spitfire lifts her rival up into a seated position. Alejandra wraps her arms around Saad’s torso and slides them up under the Princess’s impressive rack. Showing off all the time she’s spent in the gym, Alicea lifts the lightweight with her as she stands, trapping Alia in the reverse bearhug. Alejandra pours all her frustration and rage into the hold, the Princess’s boobs bulging out of her top, dark areola peeking out the top. Alia’s face reddens, and it looks like the Caribbean Crush might just squeeze the Prince out. The FAWNatics are on their feet now, cheering Alejandra on.
Maybe because she can’t see the effect of the reverse bearhug, Alejandra tosses the Princess to the canvas like a discarded toy. Shaking her arms out and catching a few needed breaths, Alejandra stalks around the mewling Royal. Leery of the times tonight she’s fallen into the Desert Fox’s traps, the Boricua powerhouse stomps her boot down on the olive-skinned beauty’s shoulder. Satisfied this isn’t one of her traps, Alejandra scrapes Alia off the canvas and pulls the Desert Flower into a front facelock. Looking out over the crowd, the Caribbean Crush flips Saad’s near arm over her shoulders and reaches down for a handful of the fabric at Alia’s hip and hoists the Princess up for a suplex.
At the apex of the move, the Puerto Rican Powerhouse halts and holds the lightweight inverted. Alia’s feet point at the rafters, and her head is suspended upside down towards the canvas as Alejandra begins walking in a small circle. After a few seconds, the crowd begins to count how long she can hold the vertical suplex. The count reaches fifteen, then twenty, and amazingly, there is no quiver in Alicea’s powerful frame. The count continues, thirty! The Caribbean Crush looks to be going for Wendy Smith’s moniker of Suplex Machine when she finally falls back, sending Alia crashing into the thinly padded plywood.
DELAYED VERTICAL SUPLEX:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=5FWT4VsKL5c
The ring rattles from the impact and Alia arches her back nearly flopping over on to her stomach before settling back down to the mat. Alejandra sits up and takes several deep breaths to recharge her oxygen supply. The pay-per-view crowd is going nuts, they want to see Alejandra’s revenge completed, but the match has been long and hard, and Alejandra is feeling it. In Puerto Rico, the competition was good, but FAWN and Alia are a new level for the rookie. It’s not respect for the Desert Flower that Alicea is feeling, just the reality that she needs to step up her game here in FAWN.
As that fleeting thought crosses the Puerto Rican’s mind, she crawls over and mounts Alia with a crossbody pin and hooks the leg. Al was already moving into position.
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
The Desert Flower uses all of the count that she dares before her body jerks and her far arm shoots into the air, pulling her shoulder off the mat.
While not Alejandra’s finisher, the delayed Vertical Suplex did win her matches down in the Caribbean Circuits. This is a new world, the rookie reminds herself. She reaches out to bring Alia back up with her as she stands. It’s good that the dirty Princess kicked out, Alejandra tells herself, she has more to pay for.
With that in mind, the Caribbean Crush muscles Saad back against the ropes before sending her off with an Irish Whip. Alicea moves to the center of the ring ready to deal out more payback for Alia’s transgressions. The rookie and the crowd are disappointed though as the Desert Flower goes into a baseball slide and passes under the bottom rope and lands on her feet outside the ring.
The Jewel of Jordan basically just called ‘Time out’ as she rubs her back with one hand and the other presses to her sore bosom. The act of cowardice brings out a chorus of boos from the FAWN faithful, which Alia blithely ignores. Those stupid idiots wouldn’t know tactics if it dropped on their heads.
Not that this time-out lasts long. Before Al can even count to two, a furious Alejandra, perhaps unwisely, stomps across the ring while Alia is stooped over, trying to walk out the pain in her back and chest. She doesn’t even notice the rookie powerhouse’s approach until she’s already sliding under the ring to the outside, and by the time Alia turns to face the furious Latina, the bigger woman is reaching out to grab hold of her head.
Saad lets out a cry of alarm as those strong hands take hold that turns into one of pain and shock as Alejandra swiftly brings the Arab princess’s face down to kiss the ring apron. As Alia’s nogging rebounds off the barely-padded boards, Alicea wastes no time before turning the exotic beauty towards the guardrails and Irish whipping her into them. Only hard-won ring experience gives Alia the instinct to turn and catch the steel with her side instead of her back, but even so, the hit rips a gasp from her full lips.
Alejandra wipes her brow and sucks in a deep breath as Alia languishes on the railing a moment. Al is only up to a 5 count, and while the Puerto Rican prefers to do her fighting in the ring, all the pent-up frustration at the cheating, manipulative Saad gets the better of her. She steps forward, grabs the Desert Flower’s smooth shoulder, and pushes her foe flat against the barrier.
“You like touching my breasts, nena?” she growls. “Let’s see how you like it when I touch yours!” She then proceeds to lay out a series of four big, swinging open-palm chops, two across each of Alia’s magnificent breasts. The stinging smacks resound across the arena and the FAWNatics let out a raucous cheer both at Alejandra’s display of dominance and the alluring jiggling of the Jewel of Jordan’s goods.
After the barrage, Alia is a gasping, whimpering mess on the barricade, Al is to an 8 count, and Alejandra’s own chest heaves with the exertion. Good sense would be for her to take this back in the ring, her training tells her that too, but despite her agony, Alia manages to flash a cruel smirk at the Puerto Rican, and she loses her cool. She takes two stomping steps back, turns like an angry bull, and charges, looking to flatten the princess between her muscular body and the rails.
And like a snake sliding across the sands, the battered Saad spins out of the way at the last second, falling to the mats outside the ring and safety. Alejandra tries to stop her charge, but all she manages to do is turn so that her gut takes the impact instead of her right shoulder, saving her limb at the cost of having every bit of precious oxygen impaled out of her lungs.
In no good shape herself, it takes Alia a few seconds to recover, but she makes it to her feet well ahead of Alejandra. Wheezing and gasping, the powerhouse hangs limply over the barricade for a few moments, but by the time she starts to regain her senses, the desert falcon is back to descending on her prey.
Al holds up both hands as he calls out the 10-count. Alia licks her lips and gets two solid clawfuls of Alejandra’s long locks, making sure to dig her nails into the scalp as she peels Alicea off the guardrails. The princess doesn’t want to be counted out or win by one either. She wants the Puerto Rican groveling at her feet, so this has to end in the ring.
With a dominant cry like the royal warrior she is, Alia takes two fast steps towards the ring, hauling her unwilling victim forward by the hair, before chucking Alejandra scalp-first up and onto the apron. The Latina lets out a pained cry as her roots are sorely tested, then again as Alia hops first up the apron, then, using the ropes as a guide, up into a double foot stomp on Alicea’s chest, crushing her impressive breasts against her ribs.
With a feral smile, sweat running down her face, and hair as wild as a lion’s mane, the desert huntress then slinks through the ropes, only turning to haul her seemingly lifeless prey back into the ring by an arm and a leg. Alia grunts and drags her battered foe a few feet to the nearest turnbuckle, kicks her once in the ribs HARD for good measure, then grins imperiously at the crowd.
“Yes! Watch and boo, you spineless curs, as I destroy the object of your little hopes and dreams!” Alia calls out above the din, almost relishing the chorus of boos she gets in return. Without skipping a beat, she leaps up to the second turnbuckle, uses the spring of the cables to bounce herself higher, and recoils her legs off the top ropes, flipping over into her signature Jordanian Press!
JORDANIAN PRESS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=g-0Q2dKKuuU
There’s a sickening thwack of flesh on flesh as the desert falcon divebombs onto the Spitfire, and the Latina’s legs jackknife as she spasms from the impact. Alia immediately capitalizes, grabbing one of those muscular stems as it is still in the air before pressing down, chest-to-chest, and pinning Alejandra’s shoulders to the mat.
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
At the very last moment, the Puerto Rican Powerhouse finds some shred of intestinal fortitude and kicks out, shoving up hard enough to throw Alia back on her calves in the process. Alia lets out a screech of her own frustration, glaring over her shoulder at Al and clapping her hands over her heads three times in rapid succession. It’s a clear sign of her disdain at the ref’s utter inability to count, even though she herself was saved by what she sees as a ‘slow count.’
Alejandra, for her part, can only languish on the mat, resting on her side, trying to suck in enough air to function as she cradles her arms protectively over her tortured chest. One leg kicks slowly, like a biker trying to kickstart the engine of a shoddy motorcycle and with as much success. By the time Alia has finished berating the ref, some small signs of life return to the battered Latina, and she rolls over onto her stomach and begins to reach for the nearby ropes. Upon seeing that act of continued defiance, the Jewel of Jordan goes wide-eyed, tugging at her hair in frustration before quickly getting to her feet.
Such insolence must be stamped out!
Just before Alejandra’s hand drops down on the bottom rope, Alia does just that, stomping down hard with her heel on the outstretched hand. Alicea somehow bites back a mournful cry into a growl roiling in her throat, but that’s all she can manage when Saad snatches her long tresses once more. Using them as leverage to force the bigger girl to rise, the desert huntress then slips her slim, toned arms around the Puerto Rican’s thick waist.
“Fine,” she hisses into Alejandra’s ear as she cinches in the waistlock. “If you wish to be beaten like a dog before I degrade you again, I’ll beat you like the dog you are!” With those words, Alia tries to snap the Latina over into a German Suplex, the first of her deadly Cradle of Civilization combination… but somehow, when she tugs, her foe doesn’t fly through the air.
When Alia glances over, she sees something she thought the rookie would be too unskilled to do… Alejandra bent just enough forward to grab the top rope on either side of the turnbuckle with her powerful arms and bulled down. Fury runs through the desert princess, then she slams an elbow into the Puerto Rican’s chiseled back. When Alejandra recoils, Saad tries again to suplex her out of the corner, but once more, Alejandra holds on for dear life.
“Very well,” Alia hisses as she lets go of the hold and reaches for Alejandra’s head, “every moment you defy me means a fresh moment I will revisit on you after my victory!”
Something in what she says spurs new life into the exhausted Alicea, for when Alia makes to grab her head, Alejandra roars and throws a sudden, stiff elbow backward, catching the desert princess right in her beautiful face. With a sudden shout of pain, Saad’s head recoils back and she clutches her face as she retreats back a step, relieved to find that her nose only feels like it’s broken. As she pulls her hands away, ready to torture her victim some more, Alia’s eyes widen in shock when what she finds is a lunging Alejandra, followed by those two powerful arms scooping up into a simple but devastating bear hug.
Many FAWNatics and trained photographers snap off pictures as Alia and Alejandra’s breasts compress together, bulging as the space given them is nowhere near the volume needed. The Puerto Rican Spitfire lifts the Princess off her feet and moves to the center of the squared circle. Sweat pours off the Latina’s back as she holds the Desert Flower aloft.
Alia gets her arms over Alicea’s shoulders, but a new squeeze of those powerful arms stops the Jewel of Jordan from anything but gasping in pain. The Desert Flower appears to be wilting in the Spitfire’s embrace as Alia’s head droops.
Al, standing by closely to watch, asks, “What do you say, Alia? Let me know you’re still with us.”
The Caribbean Crush remembers the number of tourists she defeated with this very hold on the beaches of Puerto Rico and selling the tourists back their own bikini afterward. Maybe she would take Alia’s as a prize. The thoughts of victory are too soon, however, as the Desert Flower springs to life and hammers her fists several times into the side of Alicea’s neck. When the Spitfire’s arms relax, the Desert Fox springs to life, wrapping her legs around Alejandra’s solid trunk and arms snaking around her head as she pulls the black-haired beauty down into the canvas with a DDT.
A weary Alia shoves a barely conscious Alejandra off her, and both lay staring at the bright overhead arena lights. The rise and fall of chests is the only sign of life for several seconds while Al checks on both of his charges and then starts the count for a double count-out.
Al walks around the pair of warrior women. “ONE… TWO… THREE… FOUR…”
Alia’s legs begin moving, and Alejandra rubs her forehead where a red spot has already formed. Carpenter pauses for a second but then continues, “FIVE… SIX… SEVEN…”
Out of time, both women stir and struggle back up on to their boots, Alia’s top askew, her right nipple peeking over the top. Alejandra staggers forward, hoping to bear down on her hated rival again, but the Desert Flower uses her quickness to lash out with a European Uppercut that snaps the rookie’s head back. Most FAWN lightweights would have been floored by the blow, but Alejandra stays upright, which turns out to not be a good thing. Alia steps in close and reaches around, grabbing a pair of lusty handfuls of glutes. As she lifts, the Jewel of Jordan slides her hands down Alicea’s thighs. The Arabian lightweight drops to one knee as Alejandra’s crotch slams into the posted thigh of the Desert Flower.
INVERTED ATOMIC DROP:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=E5oplX4bUbI
Alejandra springs off the Jewel’s thigh and flops to her back on the canvas. Alia wearily grins as she sees her opponent helpless. Crawling on hands and knees, the Jewel of Jordan makes her way to Alejandra, pushing the Caribbean Crush to her stomach. The Middle Eastern beauty then pulls the Latina’s hips up, and as the crowd roar warnings to Alejandra, Alia locks a wicked crotch claw on to the center of the rookie’s trunks.
The Spitfire wails out in pain as her womanhood is assaulted again by the Desert Fox, her hand quivers as her first thought is to tap out to the pain, but NO!. The Caribbean Crush steels her mind, with one thought: “Not like this. Never like this.”
Alia has trained her whole life to take on not just other lightweights but bigger women such as Alejandra. The claw hold often counters size advantage in the Princess’s experience, so Saad adjusts her body to keep weight on top of Alicea’s hips to the trip to the ropes will be more daunting. The Puerto Rican Spitfire digs her elbows into the canvas and pulls forward, though each time, it increases the pain in her private area. Making small gains, Alejandra wonders if her will can hold out, trapped in such a wicked hold.
FAWNatics support only helps so much, but the crowd is clearly behind Alejandra. They worry when, close to the ropes, the Puerto Rican Powerhouse sags, her cheek resting on the canvas. Maybe she won’t be able to escape. Alia hammers her free arm down across Alejandra’s lower back during the pause, which, instead of keeping the Caribbean Crush in place, seems to spur her the final foot or two.
Alejandra screams out, “BREAK!” as her hand encircles the bottom rope.
The Jewel of Jordan lets out a frustrated screech as Al moves in to call for the break, but to the ref’s surprise, she lets go before he even has to count to one. Alejandra lets out a gasp of momentary relief, but her womanhood is still burning with pain and her knees feel like jelly as she tries to use the ropes to clamber to her feet.
But what seemed like a momentary spark of mercy in the cruel Alia does not last for long. Instead of letting the Latina rise, the Desert Princess only takes a moment to suck in a deep breath and throw off Al, confused for a moment at Saad’s surprising attention to the rope break that he backs off instead of guarding Alejandra’s rise. Alicea is only up to one knee, desperately using the ropes for support, when, with all the grace of a hunting hawk, Alia swoops in on her prey.
Something deep down, some last ember of resistance seems to flare up inside the Caribbean Crush, though. Just as the Desert Flower lunges to sink her claws in, Alejandra turns her shoulder into the charging Arab as she pushes up with her powerful legs. Alia lets out a gasp as hard shoulder meets firm stomach and then a shrill cry of shock as the Puerto Rican strongwoman keeps pushing upward. As Alejandra surges up to a standing position, she heaves with both arms on Alia’s thighs, sending her foe into the air and over the top rope.
Even as the Desert Hawk crashes and burns onto the mats below, Alejandra’s knees give out and she collapses back down, barely catching herself on her palms. Sweat pours off her, and her chest heaves as she tries to rally herself. Even though she’s amazingly fit, Alia has pushed her to her limits and perhaps beyond them… not that the Jewel of Jordan is faring much better at the moment, splayed out like a dead fish outside the ring.
Al almost starts a double count-out again, but Alejandra forces herself onward, spurred by the raucous, cheering crowd. Like a thirsty woman in a desert, Alicea seems to drink in those cheers to keep going, rolling under the ropes to land on unsteady feet to the ringside area. Saad is barely stirring, groaning as her chest heaves, her top just barely staying on. Alejandra sees a golden opportunity, a chance to revisit a small measure of what Alia did to her in their last match and reclaim a measure of her hurt pride. As the ref starts counting the twenty-count, Alejandra grins wearily and kneels down over the glassy-eyed Arab.
“You took something of mine last time, Princess Puta,” she says between deep breaths, “so turn about is fair play.” With that, she grabs the middle string of the bikini and pulls.
The sudden motion seems to bring the Jewel of Jordan back to the moment, and just as she glares wide-eyed up Alejandra, the barely-holding on ties of the bikini top give way. Alia is dumped unceremoniously flat-backed onto the mats again, sending another shock through her aching back, while Alejandra comes away with a prize. Clenching the pure white top in one fist, Alicea holds it up for the cheers of the crowd, then tucks it into the waistband of her bottoms for safekeeping.
The Arab princess is trying to rise while Alejandra shows off her prize, managing to flop over onto her bare chest as she tries to use her utter outrage at this infidel cur’s gall as fuel to fight back. This time, though, it is the Puerto Rican Powerhouse that is the huntress, driving a big double axehandle into the rising woman’s bare back with enough force to drive her back down to the mat.
“FIVE!...” Al counts as he watches Alejandra pull the wilted flower off the thin mats by the head and hair. Still breathing hard, Alicea does take a moment to admire the bountiful breasts she’s uncovered, but before she gives Saad too much satisfaction, she drives a forearm into Alia’s chin to keep her stunned, then rallies herself long enough to scoop up the smaller girl one more time.
The FAWNatics let out a wild cheer, anticipating a big body slam on the hard ringside floor or perhaps on the barricade, but Alejandra, truly incensed at her rival, one-ups all those hopes. She turns towards the announcers’ tables and begins a march. While at her full strength, the Puerto Rican Powerhouse would make this look easy, it’s clear to everyone that in her current state, every step is a struggle, but she soldiers on. The announce team clears out as, with one deep breath, Alejandra dumps Alia hard right down on the table, sending monitors, keyboards, and paperwork flying, but not hard enough to put the Jewel of Jordan through the table.
Not yet anyway.
“EIGHT!...” comes the ref’s count. With how heated this match is and how on the edge of their seats the FAWN faithful are, it seems as if Al is purposefully slowing the count. Not that it turns out that he needs to worry, because, to the renewed cheers of the crowd, Alejandra doesn’t immediately attack Alia, sprawled out spread eagle and exposed across the table.
No, she turns to the ring, rolling under the ropes to break the count, and then mounts the turnbuckles closest to Alia. While primarily a power wrestler, the Caribbean Crush has been known to fly from time to time, and now, she feels this is the time. This is how she can put Alia away once and for all. The crowd practically goes silent as the exotic beauty stands tall on the top turnbuckle, gathers her resolve, and then leaps like a pouncing tigress, turning into a devastating elbow drop all the way down onto Alia…
… except that the Jewel of Jordan rolls at seemingly the last moment. Even though she lands roughly on the ringside mats, it is a far, far, FAR softer landing than Alejandra, whose fit form explodes right through the table.
At this point, the match may have ended in a double count-out, except seeing the Caribbean Crush go through the table brings Al out of the ring to check on her and then Alia. The later is now sitting up and crawls towards the wreckage of the announce table. Reaching out, the Jewel of Jordan hooks her hand around the back strap of Alejandra’s halter top, trying to pull her foe out, but the fabric gives way and Alia drops back on her round ass, holding the remains of the Puerto Rican flag colored halter.
On the second try, Alia hauls Alejandra out of the folded table and leads her back towards the ring. The Spitfire is only semi-aware this time of the Desert Flower’s hand on her womanhood, but this time, it’s only to get the black-haired beauty back into the ring. The Powerhouse rolls to a stop on her back in the ring, her breasts rolling on her chest. Breathing heavy and clearly hurting herself, Saad climbs into the ring and over to her foe and straddles her stomach. Vengeance is clearly on the mind of the Princess as she begins mauling Alejandra’s boobs.
The Puerto Rican Spitfire’s eyes flutter, and she tries to bring her hands up to protect her fleshy orbs, but the Wrath of Jordan won’t allow it. After several long moments, Alia pauses and presses down on both of Alejandra’s breasts as she stands. Moving to the rookie’s head, Saad hauls Alicea back up to jello legs by her hair, the Latina’s thick muscles seeming to be slack. Controlling the Spitfire with a front facelock, the Jewel of Jordan reaches down, hooking one leg in her arm, and here, at the end of this epic battle, she shows she still has enough to lift the bigger Alejandra and turn her over delivering the ring-rattling Djinn’s Blessing.
DJINN’S BLESSING:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=v1WsM7BfAHA
The impact bounces Alejandra out of Alia’s grip, but that hardly concerns the Desert Flower. The Powerhouse spasms once and then goes still while Saad slithers on top of the woman. Alia places one muscular arm between her thighs, the second, she pulls behind Alejandra’s own head as she lays across the Spitfire’s body. FAWNatics know this hold, and once locked in, all hope for Alejandra will be gone. Alia tenses her body and pulls up on the limp arm, bringing Alicea’s face up into the Globes of Jordan. Trapped in the Amman Anaconda, Alejandra’s legs twitch, but the woman soon passes into blissful unconsciousness.
With nothing to check, Al wonders if he should just call the match now. The slow leg kicks have stopped, and Alejandra has been motionless for too long now. Not out of kindness but more Alia’s need for dominance, she opens her legs, letting the limp arm free and demands, “Check her!”
Carpenter moves to obey, and lifts the arm once, twice, and a final time. When the limb thumps to the mat the final time, Al quickly turns, calling for the bell.
While she still hasn’t released the Spitfire, Alia wearily grins as the ring announcer makes it official, “YOUR WINNER, BY KNOCKOUT… THE DESERT FLOWER… ALIA SAAD!”
Finally, the Jewel of Jordan allows the Spitfire to drop, her face covered in mingled sweat and spittle that foams around her mouth. Lost in her Jugg Shock unconsciousness, Alejandra is unaware of the hand slipping inside her trunks as Alia looks to humiliate the Puerto Rican further. With her other hand, Saad pulls her top from Alejandra’s waistband and reclaims the prize.
As Alejandra faces another post-match humiliation, this one looks to be worse, because she not only is being abused but lost the match. The only silver lining is that, this time, the Spitfire is unaware it is happening.
However, after what happened in the aftermath of the last clash between Alia and Alejandra, it is clear that there have been two watching the match closely, and they rush out, heading for the ring, two very different ‘Jinxes’: J!nxx, the rookie wrestler, and Trixie Decker.
J!nxx:
Trixie ‘Jinx’ Decker:
The roar of the FAWNatics warns the Desert Flower, and while she hates to give up a hard-won humiliation of an Infidel, there is no way after that battle she can withstand two other FAWN wrestlers. The Jewel of Jordan rolls out of the ring and slips around the broken announcer’s table to escape out one of the entrances to backstage nearby.
Unlike last time, though, there are no shouted taunts from Trixie. Alia’s slunk out like the snake she is, and this time, Decker’s friend has taken way more of a beating than last time. J!nxx is already by her girlfriend’s side as is Al, but thankfully, it looks like there is no permanent damage, at least to Alicea’s body. As J!nxx and Trixie help a shaky Spitfire to her feet and to the back, it’s clear that worse than all the bruises and aches is the sharp sting of loss in her eyes, both at the match and her ring gear.