Post by walkindude on Oct 20, 2020 23:05:34 GMT
Hello Friends,
Here's a piece I'd hoped to have up a week after 'Mania, but due to an absolutely hellacious real world schedule this month, it's going up tonight. (Mostly) taking place on the same night as 'Mania, it's a follow up to the 'Finals Week' story I posted earlier this summer. It's not nearly as long, but I don't think you'll find it lacking for action.
Hope you enjoy,
~RF
*****
Ten days before ‘Mania…
The text from Beatriz Morales was waiting for Lenore Lemarchand when she woke up that morning. It was simple and to the point, just the sort of communiqué she’d expect from the one friend she’d made during that disastrous week at the Bly Finishing School.
Her plane leaves for New York tonight. Will take a private jet to Miami for a no more than a week of training. Suspect she’ll challenge immediately thereafter. Whatever she’s got planned, it won’t be public. Watch your back. ~B
LENORE LEMARCHAND:
Lemarchand drew in a deep breath, held it for several seconds before releasing a single soft, slow sigh. She’d been expecting this message from the moment she made Elise quit at Slaybor Day and now that it was here it felt like a weight rolled off her shoulders even if her heart was beating a heady mixture of excitement and yes, a little fear. Lenore pecked out a quick thanks to Beatriz, then tapped a nonsense beat on the back of her phone as she thought about texting Sydney.
In the end she decided to call instead. No surprise, Deschain answered in less than three rings.
SYDNEY DESCHAIN:
“Hello Lenore. What can I do for you this morning?”
“Morning Sydney. Remember those bracelets I added to my trophy room about a month ago?”
Syd didn’t chuckle, but Lenore was certain she heard her smiling through the phone. “Yes, a genuine pair of Bly cufflinks, the girls used to call them. An impressive addition certainly, though something tells me you didn’t call to fish for compliments.”
“Imogene Creel is going to arrive in Miami in the next day or so. Within a week she’ll be in Orlando looking to reclaim her daughter’s jewelry, not to mention her honor.”
“You think she’s going to come to the Hellhole.” there was no question in the Mangler’s voice.
“She lured me to Bly to humiliate me. To break my spirit, then rub my nose in it.” Lenore swallowed a lump in her throat. The memories of Bly still hurt all these months later. “I humiliated Elise in front of the world, took something that doesn’t belong to anyone who isn’t a Bly graduate and dared that vile hag to do something about it. Yeah, I think she’s coming to the Hellhole.”
“You do realize I’m all of a decade younger than that vile hag, don’t you Lenore?” Sydney asked, her unseen smile growing a bit wider.
“Vile hag is a state of mind, Sydney. Age has nothing to do with it. Addison’s a hag. Suguitan’s a hag. But Imogene’s the worst of them all.”
“And now she’s coming here.”
“And now she’s coming here.” Lenore agreed.
“Should I be watching my back when I walk to the car? Or out to the Hellhole?”
“I doubt it. A blindside attack would be far too simple and worse, far too crass, for the likes of the Headmistress. I’m guessing she’ll approach you directly, appeal to your sense of fair play to arrange a match between she and I.”
“And you want me to refuse her? Make her step out of the shadows and into the FAWN Arena?”
“Tempting, but no. If she wants it public, I’ll agree to it, but I think she’s going to ask for the Hellhole and that’s right where I want that mean bytch.” Lenore paused to regain control of herself. “She humiliated me on her home court, Sydney. I mean to destroy her on mine.”
“Easier said than done, Lenore.” There was no humor in Deschain’s tone now. “Imogene Creel has beaten and humiliated the best wrestlers on the planet for the better part of thirty-five years.”
“You beat her.”
“I did. But victory was never assured against Imogene. Pain and embarrassment on the other hand, those are practically guaranteed, even if you are in the Hellhole.”
“I’m not backing down from her, Syd. She wants those bracelets, I want to hear her begging for mercy in the Hellhole. Will you help me or not?”
A long pause from the other end of the phone. “I’ll help you make the match, if she approaches me. If she doesn’t, if this just happens to be the lark of a rich idiot enjoying some sun in South Florida, I want you to let this go. You sent Elise into hiding after that last match, yet you couldn’t enjoy it because you were looking over your shoulder for the Headmistress. Promise me, Lenore. If Imogene Creel doesn’t darken my door in the next week, promise me you’ll let this go.”
Now it was Lenore’s turn to pause.
“I promise. But I don’t think it’s a lark, do you, Syd?”
“No.” Deschain agreed. “I don’t.”
The Hellhole, six days later…
Lenore was on her way to the showers after a two hour training session with Veronica Treymane when her phone buzzed in its snug little forearm band. Slipping it loose without so much as a thought, the brunette stopped in her tracks when she saw the message from Sydney.
Creel’s here. Come to my office to discuss terms.
She tapped out a quick ‘OMW’, then did an about-face and strode out of the Hellhole proper on a beeline to the back of Deschain’s house. Her route to the office went through the kitchen so Lemarchand paused long enough to gulp down a large glass of water and wipe off the worst of the sweat with a handful of paper towels. When that was done she resumed her journey to Syd’s ‘office’ which was in reality much more of a study or a den where the Mangler and the other Hellhole regulars often gathered to break down tape, discuss strategy for upcoming matches or just shoot the shyt when they weren’t on the road.
The door was cracked open, but Lenore still rapped out a quick knock and waited for Syd’s ‘Come in, Lenore.’ before she stepped inside.
Imogene was seated opposite Sydney, her back to the door (quite by design, Lemarchand was sure) so she had to look over one shoulder at the Raven’s arrival. “Good to see you again, Ms. Lemarchand. You’ll understand if I don’t rise.”
“Of course. You’ll understand if I don’t offer my hand.”
“Of course.”
IMOGENE CREEL:
The Headmistress waited a beat, when she went on even that faint trace of civility was gone. “You know why I’m here, little bird.”
“I think I do, but I’ve been wrong before.” Lenore kept the smile from her mouth, but not her eyes as she added, “I’m sure you understand, I’m not Bly Academy material, after all.”
Imogene Creel pushed up from her seat and stepped around it to close on the Black Courtier. “You have something that doesn’t belong to you, brat. I came to get it back.”
Lenore held her ground without so much as a flinch. “Do you really think she deserves to have them back after the way she choked at Slaybor Day?” At least tell me you’ll give her a good, stern talking to before you give them to her again. Or are you such a doting mother that you’ll make a Transatlantic flight ANY TIME someone makes her submit to a Titty Twister in front of a worldwide audie--”
Imogene stormed forward and Lenore did the same, the pair of brunettes almost nose to nose before Sydney barked, “Don’t even think about it. Either of you. We all know why you’re here, Imogene. So state your case and let’s get this settled. I didn’t have time for your prissy Bly bullshyt twenty-five years ago and I sure as hell don’t have time for it now.”
Creel took a deep breath as well as couple steps back. “Pardon my rudeness, Sydney. The stink of this one interferes with my usual decorum.”
Lenore’s left hand twitched at her side, but a grim effort kept it from finding the older woman’s face. “You heard Syd.” she said quietly. “Tell me what you want or get the f*ck out.”
“A match, you insolent shrew.” the Headmistress answered at once. “Same rules as our first encounter, even if the venue is hardly worthy of my presence. You put your bracelets on the line and as proper incentive I shall do the same. Winner leaves with both. Loser leaves with bruises and shame. Are those terms acceptable, little bird”
“With one small addition.” Lemarchand replied. “Bracelets AND briefs on the line. You’re here to take something I rightfully earned, it’s only fair I get a chance to do the same. Hopefully you brought a pair with the Bly insignia on the seat, but I’ll be happy with anything as long as I get to stuff them in your mou--”
Imogene SLAPPED her mouth and Lenore SLAPPED her right back, the cross-generational rivals no longer able to control their disdain for one another.
The rematch might’ve started then and there if Deschain hadn’t come from around her desk to shoulder them apart. “What did I just say?” the Mangler warned. “We’ll do this the right way, or we won’t do it at all. Terms have been made on both sides. Are they acceptable?”
“Yes.” Imogene said after a long silence. “Anything to make this little bytch scream one more time.”
“I accept.” Lenore agreed. “If only to show this withered hag just why her little girl fears me so.”
Creel said nothing, though she did muster a smile as cold as her ‘Murderous’ daughter’s. When she did speak, it was to Sydney. “When? Don’t make me wait too long, Deschain.”
“Sunday night.” Syd answered without hesitation. “Everyone will be otherwise occupied with ‘Mania, so we’ll have this place to ourselves.”
“We?” Lenore asked.
“You need a referee, don’t you? Is there anyone else you want observing this match?”
“I warn you Sydney, if you try anything untow--”
“I never needed a crooked referee to beat you, Imogene.” the Mangler said softly.
“Nor I, you.” Creel hissed. “The little bird on the other hand…”
“Syd wouldn’t lift a finger to help me, especially not against a bytch like you.” Lemarchand growled. “She wouldn’t want to cheat me of the satisfaction of making you submit.”
“Or give you any excuse when you lose yet again, I suspect. It’s time for your final lesson, Lenore Lemarchand. And it will be my exquisite pleasure to deliver it in the most agonizing manner imaginable. Now if you’ll excuse me.”
The Headmistress took her leave of Sydney Deschain’s office, making a point to shoulder-check Lenore in her passing.
The Raven whipped around and would’ve snatched a handful of hair if Syd hadn’t caught hold of her wrist. “Let her go.” Deschain said after Creel was gone. “You got what you wanted.”
“Not just yet.” Lemarchand answered. “Once I hear her screams echoing off the walls of the Hellhole, then I’ll have what I want.”
“You’ll get your chance soon enough. I hope three days is enough time to prepare.”
“I’ve been preparing for this since June. If a few more days isn’t enough, I deserve to lose.”
“Fair enough. Now do me a favor and hit the showers. No offense, but you’re kind of ripe.”
Lenore sniffed, offered Deschain a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I didn’t want to keep the Headmistress waiting.”
“And so you didn’t. Now go on, take the rest of the night off. You’ve earned it.”
“Will do. Oh, one other thing.”
“Yes?”
“One of these days I want to hear about your interactions with that witch.”
“If you’d like. But not until she’s well in your rearview mirror. This is your story after all, Lenore.”
“Yes it is.” Lemarchand agreed. “And I’ve already got a perfectly horrible ending in mind.”
********
The second battle between the Headmistress and the Raven began with infinitely less pomp and circumstance than any battle at the FAWN Arena that night. There were no pyrotechnics, no proclamations from the Announcer, no meticulously crafted video packages and certainly no roar from the crowd. In truth their arrival in the Hellhole was silent save for the echoing ‘shunk’ and ‘whooosh’ of the double doors opening and closing as Sydney Deschain made her way to the empty ring.
As much a traditionalist as Imogene when it came to certain aspects of their chosen profession, the Woodsboro Mangler wore simple black yoga pants and the traditional black & white striped referee’s shirt she kept on hand for occasions just like tonight. Taking a moment to confirm the ring was in tip-top shape (no surprise, it was) Deschain took her place in the center and called, “Let’s do this.”
The door to the ‘visitors’ locker room opened and Imogene emerged without a word, the Headmistress of Bly Academy quickly striding across the cavernous space with the expression of a woman enduring deplorable circumstances to settle some important business. For tonight’s act of vengeance she wore a simple albeit flattering two piece in Bly maroon and just as her opponent had hoped, the seat featured the seal of that venerated institution. Each wrist was adorned in a chunky gold bracelet that the adversaries of Bly knew all too well. Simple black boots and pads completed the ensemble Ascending the steel steps in silence, Imogene breezed right by Sydney on her way to the corner that allowed the best view of the miserable fledgling she meant to grind beneath her heel once and for all.
With Creel situated thusly, Deschain stamped on the mat twice, the sound of it more than enough to call forth the Fair & Radiant Maiden. Like her opponent Lenore sported a two-piece, a slightly more stripped down version of the purplish ‘feathered’ look she usually wore for FAWN matches. Her togs didn’t feature a seal but there was an insignia, a stylized raven she meant to set atop Imogene’s nose at multiple points throughout the evening. And just like Creel, she sported a pair of golden bracelets, though hers had been earned in a far less traditional manner. Her boots and pads were also black, the former polished to a gleaming shine. Up the steps shortly thereafter, Lemarchand entered the ring and immediately took the opposite corner either because she didn’t feel like raising the Raven sigil or because she didn’t trust herself not to throw herself at the Headmistress. Whatever her reasoning, it was all the prompting Syd needed to begin her cursory pre-match checks.
Satisfied that neither woman had secreted another weapon on their person, (she knew about the bracelets, after all) Sydney moved to the center of the ring, then glanced at Lenore. “Ready?”
Lemarchand dipped her head ever so slightly.
Deschain turned her attention to the visiting Englishwoman. “Imogene?”
The Headmistress snorted in soft, but unmistakable derision. “Ring the bell and stand aside, Sydney.”
With no Timekeeper (the Hellhole never bothered with such niceties) to do as Creel bade, Syd simply took a step back and motioned the brunettes toward one another.
Imogene strode away from the buckles at once, though her approach followed a circuitous, almost leisurely route along the ropes. “Did you really think you could get away with it?” Creel asked the reprobate Raven in a cool, crisp tone. “That simply hiding yourself away in this decrepit shyt heap would be adequate protection against the grievous insult done not only to my family, but the very institute that is Bly?”
Lenore mirrored the older woman’s pace to set them on course not for a head-on collision, but an ever tightening gyre that would bring them together sooner than later. “At what point did you think I was hiding?” the Courtier retorted. “Was it when I stole these?” she raised the purloined jewelry to chest level, “Or was it when I sat on Elise’s snide little face and gave her the slightest taste of the torture you put me through back at Bly? Oh, I know! You must’ve thought I was hiding when I looked you into the camera and practically dared you to step away from your personal fiefdom to come and teach me a lesson… since it’s obvious Elise isn’t up to the ta--”
‘Task’ was still on Lemarchand’s lips when Creel cut across the ring on a razor-sharp diagonal, her immaculately manicured nails glittering under the cool fluorescents of the Hellhole as she swiped at the Raven’s “NGH!”
The Fair & Radiant Maiden lunged to meet the incoming veteran, not with a clench or answering swipe, but a straight right hand that PWAAAKED against Imogene’s chin! Creel’s head snapped back and the rest of her followed along, the Headmistress shaking her own noggin to clear it of “EERRGHH!” Lemarchand pounced on the author of her Shameful Summer and drew her down into a Side Headlock, Imogene grunting aloud as her temple mashed against the point of the younger brunette’s hip. Cupping Creel’s chin so she could gouge her fingers into the older woman’s cheek, Lenore kept the Headlock nice snug while she filled her free hand with hair and tugged it back ‘n forth like she meant to peel it off her scalp!
Imogene growled, pumped a few quick punches into Lemarchand’s belly, then caught a handful of briefs just above the small of her back and used the resultant wedgie to march the both of ‘em into the ropes. Hooking a leg between bottom and middle strands rather than give up a hand, Creel continued to raise the wedgie while simultaneously dragging her nails up and down the flat expanse of her opponent’s tummy.
Understanding the mood of her charges quicker than even Nick Castle could claim, Sydney didn’t bother with anything so civil as a warning, she simply stepped in and barked, “ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!”
The rivals broke apart with a mutual shove that left Lenore in the ropes and Imogene a few steps removed. “Closed fist punches and hair-pulling?” the Headmistress sniffed as she smoothed her hair back. “I always knew you weren’t Bly material, but I didn’t know you were tra--”
CRACK!
Lenore feigned a slap to draw Imogene’s hands high, then laid lightning across her décolletage with a nasty Knife-Edge Chop! “Why you insufferable little--”
Creel’s Chop was just as sudden as the American’s, alas Lemarchand defenses proved the tiniest bit quicker as she pirouetted out of the way with a whisper to spare. The miss put Imogene in the ropes chest-first, an arrangement that wouldn’t have been nearly so hateful if the Raven hadn’t crowded in against her back. Deftly reaching both hands under the top rope, Lenore brought her hands up and laced them across the back of Creel’s noggin so she tug her down throat-first against the rubber-coated steel!
“ROPES!” the Headmistress croaked around the awkward encroachment. “Buuuuhhhh…bring this whelp to heel, DeschainNOOOOW!”
Lemarchand gave the Cravate one more rough yank before she crooked her fingers into claws and raaaaaaaaaked them down the older woman’s back! Imogene sucked in a gasp as the other brunette cleared off, but she held her tongue until she’d turned to face the younger wrestler. “Is that truly the best you can muster, little girl? Cowardly dodges and catty little parlor tricks? You must know that as soon as I get my hands on you I’ll--”
“You’ll have to catch me first, hag.” Lenore interrupted with an icy brusqueness that narrowed the Headmistress’ eyes to furious slits. “And I don’t need to run to know you can’t keep up. The only advantage you had at Bly was surprise and you gave that away the instant you let Elise show her face during your gloating video message. Now that’s gone, just as useless as these bracelets… in Elise’s hands, anyway.”
Imogene started forward, gained control of herself and settled back against the strands. “You’d be wise to forget her name for the rest of the evening.” the Englishwoman murmured. “The more you bring her to mind, the worse this ends. I like to consider myself a generous mother, but the very sound of your voice makes it difficult to imagine leaving even the tiniest of scra--”
“Shut your goddamned mouth.” Emily’s Lady in Waiting snapped. “All these threats aren’t very becoming of the Bly Headmistress are they?” Lenore waited a beat, throwing a glance to Deschain in the brief silence. “They sound more like overcompensation from a disappointed absentee mothe--”
No show of self control now, Creel went for Lemarchand with her claws outstretched and she would’ve snatched a massive double handful if the nimble Courtier hadn’t laid out on one side and threaded her ankles between Imogene’s lower legs. The Drop Toe Hold set Creel down flat on her face, the furious veteran’s noggin bouncing back after her forehead BWONKED the thinly-sheathed plywood. Lenore did a half turn like she was planning to run the ropes, but she swung back when Imogene powered to hands and knees a bit quicker than anticipated. Rather than make space she closed in all the closer, swinging one long leg over the Headmistress’ torso so she could THWUMP the curve of her glutes into the hollow of Imogene’s back.
Creel crumpled to her stomach, braced both forearms on the canvas, then cursed in most undignified fashion when Lenore clamped down on her biceps and cranked those captured arms backward over her knees. Far too well traveled to simply give the Camel Clutch away, Imogene pressed her chin to her sternum half a heartbeat before she began to rake her nails across Lenore’s thighs over and over again.
Gritting her teeth against the slashing pain, Lemarchand flattened her left hand into a paddle and slapped Creel’s ear three or four times. That slowed the raking without loosening the Briton’s chin, so Lenore pressed her hands to Imogene’s cheeks, slipped an index finger into each nostril and craaaaaaaaaaaanked out!
“Eeeeeeeeerrrrrhhhhhh!” Creel hissed in a tone of nasal distress. “Are… are these the sort of tactics you impart to the mongrels in your care, DesRRRGGGGHHHHH!”
Lenore went from nostril to fishhook, the Raven forcing the taller brunette’s aristocratic features into a pained rictus. “I didn’t teach her that.” Syd answered blandly. “Girl knew how to hook someone long before she walked through that door. Now, do you want to give--”
“Never.” Creel spat. “Don’t waste my time with such nonGGGRRRRRRRHHH!” Imogene had lifted her head to alleviate a bit of the strain, so Lenore relinquished the Fishhooks and laced both hands under her tormentor’s chin.
CAMEL CLUTCH:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=sFIyPUYgaFA
Camel Clutch, Lenore Lemarchand to Imogene Creel.
The pain in her neck and lower back brought a temporary halt to Imogene’s clawing, as she could only scrabble and swat at the younger woman’s outer thighs. Lemarchand noted this and applied even more pressure, the Courtier hunching forward to gather her strength before rocking back on her heels so forcibly the curve of her butt thumped against the small of the older woman’s back. Near silence reigned over the Hellhole for perhaps thirty seconds, the only discernible noise a low hum from the overhead lights and the occasional suppressed grunt from the Headmistress. Eventually Creel regained control over her faculties and so the clawing resumed, though Lenore immediately noted that the Briton’s fingers were inching closer and closer to the pits of her knees.
Quick to punish Imogene with another distraction, Lenore halved the Chinlock so she had a hand free to repeatedly tweak her rival’s nipples. Creel groaned a little louder and something must have passed across her face because Sydney asked, “What do you say, Imogene?”
“Thuuhhh… that this whey-faced little prude attacks a bust like she’s never wrestled under penthouse rules. Perhaps that’s why she’s been humiliated by the likes of Olivia Dare and that harridan Fiona WaterforRRRRRGGGGGHHH!”
Lenore doubled down on the Chinlock and cranked back to such a degree that she was now seated on the Headmistress’ glutes while Creel was forced to look into the overhead lights.
“Tell me again, Imogene.” Deschain sounded concerned now, understandable considering the severe curve of the Englishwoman’s back.
“I do not submit.” she growled. “I am the Headmistress of Bly Academy and I am here to DISCIPLINE this impudent little--”
“The hell you HEY!” Lenore’s denial was interrupted when Imogene shifted to the right and slid her left knee all the way forward. Doing so allowed her to essentially crawl out from under the Camel Clutch, but it must have wracked her back something fierce because Syd saw an absolutely hellish grimace play over the Headmistress’ face before her features regained their usual composure.
Tethered to her adversary with what was now little more than an aggressive Rear Chinlock, Lemarchand got up fast and slipped ‘round in front to catch the other brunette in a Front Facelock. What might’ve come after that remained a mystery because Imogene snaked her arms around Lemarchand’s waist and plowed forward until they reached the springy perimeter of the ropes. Catching the second strand in a death grip, Imogene asked, “Deschain, would you kindly inform this whelp that I’m in the ropeNGH!”
The Fair & Radiant Maiden smashed an Overhand Forearm Shot across the Headmistress’ shoulders once, twice, three times! The last one broke Creel’s hold on the ropes, so Lenore turned ‘em in a quarter circle (so they were parallel to the edge) and dropped back flat to spike the Brit’s forehead with a DDNO!
Imogene hooked the top rope in the nick of time, meaning she stayed anchored and upright while Lemarchand THWHAMMED down against the thinly-sheathed plywood! Lenore’s hands flew to the back of her aching skull, but that turned out to be the least of her problems because Imogene promptly secured her ankles to stretch those long legs in a vulnerable ‘V’ “Nnnnnnhhhh… tricky bytcOOOOOOHHHHHH SHYTNNNNGGGGGGHHHH!”
Imogene stamped her heel into the fork of the Courtier’s crotch, then went up on tiptoes and dropped to her knees, all the better to THWUMP her forehead into the same spot! Drawn up into a fetal ball in the wake of this callous attack, Lenore barely had enough time to roll onto her side before Imogene grabbed a massive handful of hair and forced her to stand alongside all knock-kneed and pale-faced. Shoving the younger woman around in a half circle that had her facing the other side of the ring, Creel threaded her head under Lemarchand’s left arm while simultaneously wrapping her right arm around opposing midriff and setting a bracing hand against the back of Lenore’s left thigh. Trap set, the Headmistress muscled Lenore onto her right shoulder, took a couple big steps forward, then went down on one knee and THWHUMPED the Raven tailbone-first atop the posted joint!
ATOMIC DROP @ 00:07
www.youtube.com/watch?v=EQUTmUO54t4
Lemarchand bounced up and away, the bendy-back shooting onto tiptoes as one hand pressed to the aggrieved curve of her glutes. Pleased with the separation after that crowded opening skirmish, Imogene broke into a run that took her by close to Lenore’s left flank. Hitting the ropes directly in front of the baby-stepping brat, Creel raced back at top speed and ‘smecked’ her right hand around Lemarchand’s windpipe in a Goozle that took both wrestlers off their feet! Of course Imogene landed on her knees while Lenore crashed down on her back, the purple-clad brunette squirming and twisting as her heels beat an erratic SOS against the deck. The Headmistress didn’t give a damn for these escape efforts, she clamped her left hand to the Courtier’s right shoulder and stretched out like someone doing a push-up to apply that much more pressure to Lemarchand’s windpipe.
RUNNING CHOKE TAKEDOWN:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=CKPnGliIt20
In spite of the rather fiendish moniker, the Hellhole was anything but lax when it came to enforcing the rules, as evidenced by the way Syd bypassed a warning in favor of counting a simple, “ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!”
Imogene released the choke and settled back on her haunches to flash a baleful glare at the Technical Marvel. “So that’s how you’re going to play it?” she asked. “Not even pretending to hide your bias?”
“Don’t f*cking start with me, Imogene. I gave you an internal five, just the same as everyone else.”
Hands on her thighs, the Headmistress treated Deschain to a smile like charring paper. “I’m not everyone else, old friend. I’m the superior of everyone who’s ever trudged through that door.”
Syd arched an eyebrow, though her voice remained neutral. “Care to reassess that statement, Imogene?”
“Not in the slightest.”
Creel dismissed Deschain to bury a hand in Lenore’s hair, the visiting Brit doubling down on that grip before she stood up and segued to the Chinlock that returned Lenore to stooped verticality. Using that clasp to keep the woozy brunette close, Imogene twisted around so that the ladies finished up standing back to back with Lenore’s head bent awkwardly over the curve of Creel’s right shoulder. Realizing her predicament, Lemarchand reached for the Englishwoman’s wrists and-- the Headmistress kicked both legs forward and landed on her butt, a sheer vertical descent that THWHUNKED the base of Lenore’s skull against her shoulder!
HANGMAN'S NECKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=INbq0JmdiBU
Emily’s Lady in Waiting landed on her tush as well, though she snapped forward on impact, her forehead almost touching her knees as she cradled her throbbing skull.
Behind her, Imogene took several deep, luxurious breaths pressed both hands to the small of her aching back. Powering free of the Camel Clutch had cost more than she’d care to admit, but it was worth it to humble the insolent little bird. Speaking of whom…
Imogene spun around, crawled up behind the Courtier and reached over Lemarchand’s right shoulder to take possession of her left wrist. “I should strip you of these this instant.” Creel said of the bracelets as she tugged Lenore’s arm across her throat in a Half Straightjacket. Instead of carrying through on the threat, she hooked her left leg over the exposed wrist and dropped to a seat. From there she brought her right leg up, then crossed her ankles and yaaaaaaaaaanked back to draw Lenore’s arm that much tighter to her windpipe. “But I think I’ll let you wear them for now. If only to remind you that you’ll never be Bly material, no matter how hard you try.”
SCISSORED STRAIGHTJACKET CHOKE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=zTOqbpckEYU
Lemarchand made a noise that suggested she didn’t give a damn what the Headmistress thought of her academic credentials, though it could’ve just has easily been the sound of a wrestler fighting for breath against a compressed windpipe. Whatever it was, Sydney hunkered down by the action and asked, “What do you say, Lenore? Need to call it a night?”
The Raven waggled a finger ‘no, no, no’ rather than waste precious oxygen on words. This silent denial seemed to irritate Creel because she began to jounce Lenore’s captured wrist as forcibly as her position would allow. “Guuuhhhrrrrrhhhhhh!” Lemarchand hissed through clenched teeth. “That all you got, teach? I thought Bly trash lived to make their opponent’s screaRGH! ARH! AAAAARRRRRHHHH BYTCH!”
Oh so happy to give the insolent Courtier a taste of home, Imogene shifted her right boot so she could jab / scuff the roughened heel across Lenore’s cheek once, twice, three times, her last pass turning into a lingering griiiiiiiiiiind of those haughty patrician features. “Ask her again, if you would be so kind.” Creel cooed to the Marvel. “I’m interested to see if she can form a cogent responGH! GRH! GRRHHH!”
Lemarchand’s answer was crystal clear, albeit entirely nonverbal. Crooking her right arm into a short ‘V’, she jabbed that elbow into the backside of her opponent’s thigh half a dozen times in about as many seconds. “Luuuhhh…leggo hag. Don‘t make me tell you twice.” Lenore’s tone was strained, but more composed now that she was gouging away at her tormentor’s leg.
Imogene snorted, shifted her right foot to the base of Lenore’s skull and pushed forward while simultaneously reefing back on the Straightjacket. “You’re in no position to dictate terms, little girl. So if I were you I’d start thinking about terms of surrender instead of trying my patienOOOOOWWWWW FILTHY TROLLOP!”
The Fair & Radiant Maiden shifted her elbow down and in, the bony dagger finding the center of the Headmistress’ sensible maroon briefs! Painful to be sure, yet Creel continued to gnash and grind with her boot, the Englishwoman determined to break Lemarchand’s will with--“AAAAAAAAHHH!”
Lenore forced her free arm backward through Imogene’s stems, thus allowing her an enthusiastic, if not slightly awkward, claw grip on Imogene’s trunks! “Ask her.” Lemarchand rasped to Deschain as she sent half a dozen nauseating pulses through the veteran’s undercarriage. “She squeals like someone who hasn’t been in a catfight in twenty yearNNNNNGGGHH!”
Creel drew her right foot back and straight up DROVE it into the back of her opponent’s skull! The brutal counter ended the Claw and the Choke, though Imogene stubbornly maintained her hold on the stunned brunette’s left wrist. “You sniveling little toe rag, did you really think such a base assault would grant you a moment’s peace?” the Headmistress sneered as she used the Wristlock to haul Lenore to verticality. “Allow me to demonstrate the painfully high cost of such idiotic lapses.”
Still holding that wrist, Imogene doubled Lenore over with a Toe Kick, pulled the Courtier’s arm across her throat and reeled her into a Front Facelock. The Fair & Radiant Maiden balled her right hand into a fist and pounded away at Creel’s flank, unfortunately her efforts earned nothing more than a disdainful sneer from the Briton. “Pathetic. You’re far more trapped rat than stately raven, as far as I’m conUURRGGGH!”
An errant fist struck the small of Imogene’s back, resulting in a silver twinge that might’ve resulted in a jailbreak if Lenore had had the time to deliver a few more punches. As it was the Headmistress grit her teeth and snapped backward to THWHONK her victim’s forehead into the canvas with a flawless Straightjacket DDT. The landing did nothing for her aching back, but Creel’s adrenaline was high and she immediately floated over into a cover, the older woman hooking the far leg in a domineering cradle good for the…
STRAIGHTJACKET DDT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=pIgXzIK5EkA
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
Lenore kicked out with a full half second to spare, but that didn’t stop Imogene from swatting the back of one hand into her palm to count off a quicker “One! Two! Three! That’s how it’s done, idiot!”
Deschain didn’t roll her eyes, she just let Creel hear it in her voice. “Don’t be childish, Imogene. It’s unbecoming. And you damned well that wasn’t three.”
“Indeed. It was almost assuredly four.” the Headmistress focused her ire on the Raven, snatching a huge handful of hair to haul the beleaguered brunette off the mat in fits and starts. Once Lenore was (mostly) vertical, Creel dipped her left shoulder and slipped it through the younger woman’s thighs to boost her onto her shoulders in a Fireman’s Carry that differentiated ever so slightly from the norm by way of the fact that Imogene had Lenore’s left wrist gripped in her right hand.
“Should’ve known better than to bother with something as complicated as ’counting’ on this side of the Atlantic.” Creel snipped at Sydney. “After all, a sob of surrender is irrefutable and, if I’m being honest with myself, far more satisfying.”
The last word was barely out of her mouth when the Headmistress went up on tiptoe and snapped forward and down, the pitiless veteran doubling over to drive Lemarchand into the deck with a ring-rattling THAWHUMP!
FIREMAN'S CARRY SLAM:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ml5XH0pgO24
Emily’s Lady in Waiting arched her back on impact and tumbled onto her belly shortly thereafter, presumably to guard against another pin attempt. In that regard the tactic worked perfectly, however it did nothing to prevent the sadistic Englishwoman from dropping to her knees with both joints impaling the small of the Courtier’s back.
“OH F*CK!”
“Is about what London said when I had her in a similar position.” “Imogene chortled in the midst of deftly tucking Lenore’s left ankle into the pit of her right knee for a quick Figure Four. “I wonder if you’ll hold out as long as she did? I wonder if you’ll scream loud--”
“Shut up, for f*ck’s sake.” Lemarchand grunted as she tried to wriggle out from under the domineering veteran. “Even Elise knows when it’s time to just shut up and fighHEEERRRGGGHHNNNNGHHH!”
Imogene helped herself to a huge handful of Lenore’s dark hair and cranked her head back just to bounce her forehead off the canvas. “You will learn humility.” the Headmistress promised. “You will learn respect. “Most of all, you will learn… your… place.” Knees already braced against the Raven’s back, Imogene shifted from hair-hold to Chinlock and rolled onto her back which in turn muscled the hapless bendy-back up across her posted knees. “Don’t you so much as peep!” Creel snapped at Sydney when the Mangler took a step toward her charges. “I’ve decided she should suffer for--”
BOW & ARROW:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=4tW3NAfLdV8
“What do you say, Lenore?” Deschain interrupted. “Is this over?”
“Like hell it isSSSEEERGHRGHRGHRGHRGH!”
Imogene yoked down on ankles and chin while bobbling her knees as violently as possible. The hellacious Bow & Arrow bent Lenore’s spine exactly as promised, yet twenty seconds passed without the wails of surrender Creel sought so avidly. Ever more aware of the ache radiating from her own back, the Headmistress bared her teeth and pumped her legs until Lemarchand couldn’t help but groan in anguish. “Say it.” she ordered. “ Admit you’re helpless within my grasp!”
“Suhhhh… so what if I am?” Lenore hissed. “Doesn’t change that fact that your precious daughter is still my bytch.”
The effortless certainty with which Lemarchand issued that slanderous proclamation made Imogene draw a sharp, furious breath. “She is your superior in every way imaginable, little girl.” the Headmistress explained. “And you will be made to understand as such before you are permitted to leave this--”
Emily’s Lady in Waiting stopped pulling at the older woman’s bracelet and went at her hand instead, Lenore working her fingers in under Imogene’s palm not to prize it loose, but to squeeze as hard as she could. Creel hissed and shook her head ‘no’, clearly unwilling to abandon the spirit-breaking hold. “Useless as ever.” she sneered. “Are the lessons of this summer already starting to fade, Ms. Lemarchand? Defying my will only leads to pain and humiliatiAAARRRRHHHHH!”
Lenore switched her grip to Imogene’s thumb and wrenched the digit like she meant to snap it right off! Eliminating the Briton’s Chinlock allowed Lemarchand to roll off Creel’s knees and onto her chest in a rough Crossbody. Sydney stepped forward in case the Courtier sought a quick pin, then backed off just as quickly when Lenore balled her right hand into a fist and pwak-pwak-pwak-PWAAAKED half a dozen Hammer Fists into the Headmistress’ defenseless tummy!
“BYTCH!” Creel huffed in breathless distress, her legs kicking wildly as she tried to get out from under the resurgent Raven. After a few seconds of no marked progress, she reached up with her right hand, caught a handful of Lenore’s purple briefs and yanked them into oblivion with a wedgie worthy of the Bly Academy. “Get off of me, right NOW!” Imogene demanded of the squealing brunette as she continued to saw her trunks back ‘n forth. “Don’t make me repeat myself, trollOOOOHHHHHH YOU BLOODY WHOOOOOOOOORE, LET GO!”
Patrician features twisted in an ugly mask of anger and pain, Lenore drilled one quick punch into the center of her rival’s trunks, then switched over to a white-knuckled claw affixed to the center of the same target! “Ask… ask her.” Lemarchand grunted to Deschain as she continued to do her best VanBuren impression on Imogene’s undercarriage. “Let’s see if she’ll quit as fast as her brat daug--”
“NEVER!” Imogene’s denial echoed in the grungy rafters of the Hellhole, it’s low rumble providing a nice counterpoint to the brisk SPANK of palm on glutes as the Headmistress abandoned her wedgie for a brace of infuriated slaps.
Enduring the swats with a hard-working smile, Lenore gave the claw a little squeeze, then hooked a few fingers into the leg-holes of Creel’s togs. “We’ll see about that, old woman.”
“You insolent little whelp, don’t you daAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGHHH!”
Imogene went up on tiptoes when Lemarchand unleashed a wedgie of her own, an example of the dreaded ‘Inverted’ variety that was frowned upon in the hallowed halls of Bly Academy.
“How humiliating.” Lenore’s voice was little more than a whisper, yet Imogene heard every word with perfect clarity. “At least none of your students are present to hear you shrieking like a hapless OOOWWW YOU EVIL OLD BYTCH!”
The Raven abandoned her attack on the Headmistress’ trunks to deal with the talons Imogene began to rake across her eyes! Their mutual thrashing finally allowed Creel to buck Lemarchand off her perch and the brunettes rolled to opposite sides of the squared circle to tend to their various aches.
On one knee as she leaned against the strands for support, Lenore pressed the heel of one palm to her left eye while keeping a baleful watch on the Headmistress. “Savage hag.” she growled. “You go for my eye one more time and I swear to God you’ll--”
“You’ll what?” Imogene scoffed from the opposite set of strands. “Make some more toothless threats that’ll devolve into slobbery mewling when I make you submit yet again?”
Lenore took a deep breath and let it out slow before she got to her feet. “I’ll break your spirit.” she promised. “Your students will never know. The Bly trustees will never know. But you’ll know. And Elise will know. I’ll make sure of it.”
The Headmistress’ upper lip curled back from her gums in a snarl of hateful disdain. Regaining to boot-leather a moment later, she made a show of smoothing her hair and ‘flicking’ her togs into place before addressing the Courtier. “Your insolence has been noted for future consideration, specifically when you’re screaming yourself hoarse.”
Eager to resume her painful, pitiless curriculum, Imogene pushed away from the ropes and made her way toward the Fair & Radiant Maiden. Not about to let the Headmistress crowd her against the ropes (she remembered time spent in the turnbuckles of Bly all too well), Lemarchand loped out to meet Creel’s approach but dipped the Haymaker rather than block or engage.
Continuing to the far side without missing a beat, Lenore raced back at the Briton and lashed out with a Clothesline that-- Imogene leaned to one side to avoid the blow while looping her arms around the younger woman’s waist. Gutwrench secure, Creel hoisted Lemarchand into the air and spun her through a two-hundred and seventy degree--“RRRGGGHH!”
A sudden twinge jolted up Imogene’s back, causing the veteran to lose her grip on Lenore just as she swung through the apex of the would-be Backbreaker. Landing on her feet in front of the Headmistress, Lenore savored the surprise on Creel’s face by CRACKING her with across the mouth with a quick Bytch Slap!
Imogene reeled on the spot, bared her teeth and retaliated with a slap that ‘whicked’ through the spot so recently occupied by Lemarchand’s noggin. Circling around behind the incensed Englishwoman, Lenore grabbed a handful of Imogene’s waistband and tugged her into a single Forearm Smash that THWHAPPED against the small of her back. Creel hissed, stumbled a bit, steadied out just in time for the Fair & Radiant Maiden to wedge her head beneath Imogene’s left arm. Controlling the Headmistress with a Half Waistlock and a hand (her left) braced against Brit buttock, Lemarchand powered Creel onto the ball of her right shoulder and promptly slung her back the way she’d came to thump that seemingly ageless backside with a vengeful Atomic Drop!
“NNGGGHH!” Imogene stumbled forward on wobbly tiptoe, one hand reaching for the ropes while the other tended to her tailbone. She made it all of three steps before Lenore hooked her waistband and reeled her into a second heavy Forearm Smash. Stiff though it was, Lemarchand knew her shot shouldn’t have done more than knock Creel off balance, so she was both pleased and surprised to see the Headmistress’ knees almost buckle on impact. That was enough confirmation for the Raven, who hooked her rival up for another keester-crushing Atomic Dro--“NNNNNNNNGGGGHHH!”
Lenore dropped to her knees to THWHUNK the small of Imogene’s back against the ball of her shoulder in a quick, brutal Backbreaker! Creel turned a half circle in midair, the older wrestler landing flat on her tummy, though that secondary impact wasn’t enough to pull either hand from the curve of her aching spine.
BACKDROP-LIFT BACKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=WjoJp6JtxjQ
Relishing the sight of Imogene writhing on the canvas more than she’d ever admit to anyone (especially Kent), Lemarchand allowed herself several deep breaths before she strolled over and casually THWHUMPED a quick, heavy Leg Drop across the Headmistress’ noggin. “What do you think of my insolence now, Imogene?” Lenore sniped as she yanked Creel’s head off the mat. “Still noting it for future consideration? Or maybe you’re too preoccupied wondering if you could answer a f*cking ten co--”
Imogene reached up and clamped down on Lemarchand’s forearm, the grounded veteran digging in just above her opponent’s purloined bracelet. “Yuuuuhhh… your insolence is galling as ever.” she rasped. “And it will be an EXQUISITE pleasure to stifle it beneath my arse once and for AARRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHH!”
Lenore brought her free hand around not to claw, but to scrape the other bracelet against Creel’s eyes, just as Elise had done to her in their most recent encounter.
Sydney allowed the Raven an internal five count before she tapped her on the shoulder. “Off her eyes, Lenore.”
Lemarchand did as she was told, abandoning her abrasive attack for a more traditional hair-hold. Alas this proved only a brief reprieve for Imogene because the Courtier yanked her head back far enough to plant a taunting smooch on her forehead. Then she pushed down hard, Lenore making no effort to hide her smile when she BWONKED Creel’s face against the canvas!
Hands braced against Imogene’s shoulders, Lemarchand pushed off quite a bit harder than strictly necessary and finished off with a single emphatic Stomp to the small of the Briton’s aching back. “Pick yourself up.” Lenore demanded of the other brunette as she ‘snapped’ her briefs into place against the curve of her glutes. “C’mon Imogene, don’t think you’re gonna strut into my house, then lounge around on the mat when you start to lose.”
“Oh, you miserable brat.” Creel groaned once she’d made it to all fours. “Much as it pains me, there may be nothing left for Elise after I’m finished with UGGHH!”
Lenore stepped over and dropped into a deep squat that smashed her rump into, you guessed it, the small of her opponent’s back.
SEATED SENTON TO BACK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uk3OPBHs6Ek
Imogene collapsed to the mat, set her hands and started to rise only to collapse when she was wracked by a painful spasm. “What’s the matter, Headmistress?” Lemarchand swatted the older woman’s hands away from her throbbing spine. “Starting to feel your age?”
“Yuuuhhh… you’ll feel my boot on your NGH!” Lenore drove a quick Stomp into the back of Creel’s skull, then spun ‘round and ran the ropes. Imogene registered the patter of boots and knew what was coming, but she couldn’t muster the energy to roll out of the way or even turn over onto her back so she grit her teeth and almost stifled a scream when Lenore took to the skies and came THWUMPING down on those abused vertebrae with a heavy Senton!
Twisting onto her belly after impact, Lemarchand shot a Half Nelson to roll Imogene over so she could hook the far leg and press a domineering forearm to English tits in a cover good for…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
“Nice kick-out, teach.” Lenore chided the Headmistress after the near-fall. “But it looks like it took a lot out of you.”
“Nuuuhhhh… not so much that I can’t AAAGGGGHH!”
The Fair & Radiant Maiden cupped her hands to Imogene’s cheeks and slipped three fingers (index, middle and ring) in on each side for a particularly vengeful Fishhook! “So much that you can’t what?” Lenore pressed a knee between Creel’s shoulders to make the predicament that much more painful. “Scream like a scared old lady when I start clawing your mouth?”
“BHHIDGE!” Imogene gurgled as Lemarchand continued to pull and tear. “GHEDYORFILTHEEANDSOUDOFHMYAAARRRRRRRRRHHH!”
The hooks gave way to a half Chinlock so Lenore could resume dragging the callous gold bracelet across Imogene’s wailing face! “How do you like it? HOW DO YOU LIKE IT?” the Raven snarled at her wailing prey.
“STAAAAAAAHHHHHP!” Imogene wail’s echoed in the rafters, her usually stoic façade crumbling rapidly as Lenore served up a bitter dose of her own medicine.
Hearing the desperation in the other woman’s voice, Lemarchand shifted over to a domineering hair-hold and fish-face combination and gave both a little jostle before she asked, “Are you submitting to the Raven in the center of the Hellhole?”
“Nuuuuhhhh… never.” Creel rasped. “Huuuuhhh…ahhh… I am the Headmistress of Bly Academy and I NNNNNGGHHH!”
Lenore smashed a brutal Crossface Forearm into Imogene’s jaw to bring the haughty declaration to a premature end. “Yes. Yes, you are.” the lithesome bendy-back admitted as she got to her feet. “And tonight your evil old ass belongs to me.”
Imogene offered her nothing save a weary curse, leaving Lemarchand in relative peace as she circled around to the other brunette’s feet. Once there she sank into a crouch and helped herself to Creel’s boots before standing up and draaaaaaaaaaagging her around in a rough circle. The strategic value of this act was negligible at best and unnecessary at worst, but Deschain never questioned Lenore’s motives because she knew damned well what her pupil had in mind.
Sometimes a match demanded you finish your opponent as quickly as possible once the opportunity presented itself.
And sometimes a match demanded you take your time, to make sure your opponent knew there was nothing she could do about her inevitable end.
This thought had just flitted from the Marvel’s mind when Lemarchand yanked the Headmistress’ stems apart and casually dropped the point of her right knee into the center of Imogene’s maroon briefs!
“OOOOOHHHHH GOD!” Creel sat up or at least tried to before Lenore stood up without relinquishing her grip on the veteran’s stems. Infinitely aware of her exposure in this predicament, Imogene put both hands to her crotch, then groaned aloud when Lemarchand set her boots atop the Headmistress’ fingers and applied steadily increasing pressure.
“Staaaaaahhhp.” Imogene was pleading. It made Lenore’s heart soar. “Puh-please Lenore. You don’t need to do this. You’re better than NNNNNGGGHHHHH YOU SPITEFUL TWAT!”
The Raven stamped down on Creel’s hands, then raised her foot and stamped on her togs when the Briton pulled them away!
No response from Lemarchand, she just got to her feet, tucked Imogene’s boots into her armpits and locked her hands to create an unbreakable loop. “I think you’re confused, Headmistress.” Lenore said after a deep breath. “I’m not Bly material, remember? Which means I lack the self control to let you leave this ring without doing this.”
‘This’ was still on her lips when she muscled Creel up onto her shoulders, then turned her onto her stomach and stepped over so she could drop her derriere into the agonized hollow of Imogene’s spine. AAAARRRRHHHHHH GAAAAAAHHHH!” Imogene reached for ropes, and finding them out of reach, pressed her palms to the mat and-- Lenore slammed her butt down on Creel’s squirming cheeks and yoked back on the Boston Crab.
BOSTON CRAB:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y1wnT_OxM8Q
“Submit.” Lemarchand demanded. “Tell the Hellhole you can’t take it, hag.”
“THE F*CK I WILL!” Imogene grabbed a double handful of her own hair and pulled in a desperate effort to spread the pain. “THIS HOVEL IS BENEATH ME! YOU ARE BENEATH MEEEEOOOOOOOHHHHHHH!”
Lenore inched up, slid back and settled down, the Courtier sitting directly on the back of her opponent’s head. “Wrong answer, Headmistress.” Lenore flashed an exhausted smile as she scrubbed her glutes on Imogene’s noggin. “Tonight you’re beneath--”
“Submit!” Imogene extended an arm and slapped the canvas once, twice, three times. “I submit! I submit, so let go of me you savage whore!”
Lenore glanced to Sydney, whose expression was hard to read. Eventually the Mangler murmured, “Take what’s yours. If I tell you it’s enough, it’s enough.”
Lenore nodded, then looked over her right shoulder to smirk at Imogene. “Sorry Headmistress, I can be a little slow. Are you submitting?”
“You know damned well RRRGGGHHH!”
Lemarchand slammed her ass down on Imogene’s head. “I said, are you submitting?”
A long pause from the Englishwoman. “Yes.”
“And who made you submit?” “You--”
Lenore tossed Imogene’s right leg down so she could curl her free hand into a claw and affix it to her rival’s undercarriage. She gave the grip a soft, malicious squeeze and repeated her question. “Who made you submit?”
“Lenore Lemarchand made me submit.” Imogene hissed through clenched teeth. “That’s what I thought. Now take off your bracelets and toss them aside. They’re mine now.”
“How dare you.”
Lenore bounced her rump on the back of the Headmistress’ noggin. “This is how I dare. Now do you give me your bracelets or do I take your trunks?”
The silence in the Hellhole spun out for more than ten seconds until it was broken by the soft ‘tink-tink- of Imogene tossing her bracelets on the canvas. “There.” the veteran huffed. “Take your prize and leave me beNO! NO YOU BRAT, DON’T YOU DARMMMMMRRRRPPPHHHH!”
Lemarchand shifted her weight as she tossed Creel’s leg aside which allowed the victorious Courtier to shovel Imogene onto her back. Scoot-sliding into position above the squirming Briton’s features, Lenore swatted her tush with both hands, then sat down to engulf Imogene’s nose in her crushing glutes.
“Yuuuuhhh… you preening strumpet.” Creel wriggled beneath the younger wrestler’s weight but with her arms pinned overhead she couldn’t even rake Lemarchand’s back, let alone shake the Raven from her perch. “I promise you’ll suffer for this indign--”
Lenore hooked her fingers beneath the cups of Imogene’s top and pulled ‘em up and over, spilling the Headmistress’ bounty within the confines of the squared circle for the first time in lord only knows how long. “Maybe I will.” Lemarchand admitted as she removed her own bracelets. “But it won’t be tonight. Tonight I teach you about the Hellhole difference.”
“As if there’s anything a scrawny fledgling like you could teach OOOOOOWWWWWWWW F*CK!”
The Fair & Radiant Maiden took Creel’s nubs in those pitiless golden pincers and worked out four months of frustration with a single violent twist! “Not fun, is it?” Lenore asked as she continued to twisssssssssssst and puuuuuuuuuuuuull on her moaning rival’s pliant flesh.
“Muuuhhh… mere motivation for the next time we meeAAAAAAGGGGHHHH STOP! STAAHP!” Imogene slapped the mat with both hands and beat her heels in presumed surrender, not that it earned her any respite from the domineering brunette. “STOP FOR CHRISSAKES, YOU WIN!”
Lenore traded her tugging for a sustained clench of those high, haughty buttocks. “You want this to end, Headmistress?”
“Yuuuhhh…yes! Get your bony arse off my OOOOOOOHHHHHHH NOOOOOO!”
Lenore resumed her twisting, tweaking torment. “Beg me.” Lemarchand demanded. “Beg for your tits or I’ll make put two decades of hard catfighting on them before I toss your old ass out of my ring.”
“You… you’ll pay for thiAAAAAIIIEEEEEE PLEASE! PLEASE STOP!”
“Stop what?” Lenore murmured. “MY NIPPLES! STOP TWISTING MY NIPPLES!”
“Sounds like you’re pleading, Headmistress. And pleading is for losers. Are you a loser?”
“YES!” Imogene bawled. “I’M A LOSER! OOOOOHHHHH GAWD, MY NIP--”
“Do you want a rematch?” Lemarchand asked with a sly smile. “Maybe another chance for me to maul your--”
“NO!” Creel interrupted with a ragged sob. “NO REMATCH! NO REMATCH, YOU WIN! YOU WIN, JUST LET ME GOOOOMMMMPPPPPGGGHHHHH!”
Lenore spread her knees a little wider and settled down atop the Headmistress’ pleading mug to seal off Imogene’s mouth and nose. Tucking the soles of her boots against the sides of Creel’s head, Lemarchand eased off on the tweaking and twisting but she didn’t release the bracelets until the Englishwoman sighed her way into the welcoming dark of unconsciousness. Drawing in a deep breath after Imogene passed out, Lenore snapped her bracelets into place, then got to her feet and collected her rival’s discarded jewelry.
“You never told me to stop.” the Raven said to Sydney.
“I never thought you went too far.” Deschain answered. “Feel better?”
Lenore looked at the second set of bracelets and nodded. “Much. These are going to make an excellent centerpiece for my collection.”
“You earned them.” Syd looked down at Imogene, nudged the Briton’s thigh with the toe of one shoe. “Anything you want me to tell her when she wakes up?”
Lemarchand shook her head ‘no’. “Nope. I’m done with Elise, done with Bly Academy, done with this evil hag. Far as I’m concerned, you can send her on her way as soon as she’s got a shirt on. Preferably a FAWN shirt.”
Deschain chuckled. “I can do that. Get out of here, Lenore.”
“Just one more thing, if you don’t mind.”
“Name it.”
Lenore put a boot on Imogene’s belly and extended a hand to the Mangler.
Sydney raised it to the rafters and pointed to the Raven to put an exclamation point on her otherwise unobserved victory.
“Thank you, Sydney.”
“You’re welcome, Lenore.”
Here's a piece I'd hoped to have up a week after 'Mania, but due to an absolutely hellacious real world schedule this month, it's going up tonight. (Mostly) taking place on the same night as 'Mania, it's a follow up to the 'Finals Week' story I posted earlier this summer. It's not nearly as long, but I don't think you'll find it lacking for action.
Hope you enjoy,
~RF
*****
Ten days before ‘Mania…
The text from Beatriz Morales was waiting for Lenore Lemarchand when she woke up that morning. It was simple and to the point, just the sort of communiqué she’d expect from the one friend she’d made during that disastrous week at the Bly Finishing School.
Her plane leaves for New York tonight. Will take a private jet to Miami for a no more than a week of training. Suspect she’ll challenge immediately thereafter. Whatever she’s got planned, it won’t be public. Watch your back. ~B
LENORE LEMARCHAND:
Lemarchand drew in a deep breath, held it for several seconds before releasing a single soft, slow sigh. She’d been expecting this message from the moment she made Elise quit at Slaybor Day and now that it was here it felt like a weight rolled off her shoulders even if her heart was beating a heady mixture of excitement and yes, a little fear. Lenore pecked out a quick thanks to Beatriz, then tapped a nonsense beat on the back of her phone as she thought about texting Sydney.
In the end she decided to call instead. No surprise, Deschain answered in less than three rings.
SYDNEY DESCHAIN:
“Hello Lenore. What can I do for you this morning?”
“Morning Sydney. Remember those bracelets I added to my trophy room about a month ago?”
Syd didn’t chuckle, but Lenore was certain she heard her smiling through the phone. “Yes, a genuine pair of Bly cufflinks, the girls used to call them. An impressive addition certainly, though something tells me you didn’t call to fish for compliments.”
“Imogene Creel is going to arrive in Miami in the next day or so. Within a week she’ll be in Orlando looking to reclaim her daughter’s jewelry, not to mention her honor.”
“You think she’s going to come to the Hellhole.” there was no question in the Mangler’s voice.
“She lured me to Bly to humiliate me. To break my spirit, then rub my nose in it.” Lenore swallowed a lump in her throat. The memories of Bly still hurt all these months later. “I humiliated Elise in front of the world, took something that doesn’t belong to anyone who isn’t a Bly graduate and dared that vile hag to do something about it. Yeah, I think she’s coming to the Hellhole.”
“You do realize I’m all of a decade younger than that vile hag, don’t you Lenore?” Sydney asked, her unseen smile growing a bit wider.
“Vile hag is a state of mind, Sydney. Age has nothing to do with it. Addison’s a hag. Suguitan’s a hag. But Imogene’s the worst of them all.”
“And now she’s coming here.”
“And now she’s coming here.” Lenore agreed.
“Should I be watching my back when I walk to the car? Or out to the Hellhole?”
“I doubt it. A blindside attack would be far too simple and worse, far too crass, for the likes of the Headmistress. I’m guessing she’ll approach you directly, appeal to your sense of fair play to arrange a match between she and I.”
“And you want me to refuse her? Make her step out of the shadows and into the FAWN Arena?”
“Tempting, but no. If she wants it public, I’ll agree to it, but I think she’s going to ask for the Hellhole and that’s right where I want that mean bytch.” Lenore paused to regain control of herself. “She humiliated me on her home court, Sydney. I mean to destroy her on mine.”
“Easier said than done, Lenore.” There was no humor in Deschain’s tone now. “Imogene Creel has beaten and humiliated the best wrestlers on the planet for the better part of thirty-five years.”
“You beat her.”
“I did. But victory was never assured against Imogene. Pain and embarrassment on the other hand, those are practically guaranteed, even if you are in the Hellhole.”
“I’m not backing down from her, Syd. She wants those bracelets, I want to hear her begging for mercy in the Hellhole. Will you help me or not?”
A long pause from the other end of the phone. “I’ll help you make the match, if she approaches me. If she doesn’t, if this just happens to be the lark of a rich idiot enjoying some sun in South Florida, I want you to let this go. You sent Elise into hiding after that last match, yet you couldn’t enjoy it because you were looking over your shoulder for the Headmistress. Promise me, Lenore. If Imogene Creel doesn’t darken my door in the next week, promise me you’ll let this go.”
Now it was Lenore’s turn to pause.
“I promise. But I don’t think it’s a lark, do you, Syd?”
“No.” Deschain agreed. “I don’t.”
The Hellhole, six days later…
Lenore was on her way to the showers after a two hour training session with Veronica Treymane when her phone buzzed in its snug little forearm band. Slipping it loose without so much as a thought, the brunette stopped in her tracks when she saw the message from Sydney.
Creel’s here. Come to my office to discuss terms.
She tapped out a quick ‘OMW’, then did an about-face and strode out of the Hellhole proper on a beeline to the back of Deschain’s house. Her route to the office went through the kitchen so Lemarchand paused long enough to gulp down a large glass of water and wipe off the worst of the sweat with a handful of paper towels. When that was done she resumed her journey to Syd’s ‘office’ which was in reality much more of a study or a den where the Mangler and the other Hellhole regulars often gathered to break down tape, discuss strategy for upcoming matches or just shoot the shyt when they weren’t on the road.
The door was cracked open, but Lenore still rapped out a quick knock and waited for Syd’s ‘Come in, Lenore.’ before she stepped inside.
Imogene was seated opposite Sydney, her back to the door (quite by design, Lemarchand was sure) so she had to look over one shoulder at the Raven’s arrival. “Good to see you again, Ms. Lemarchand. You’ll understand if I don’t rise.”
“Of course. You’ll understand if I don’t offer my hand.”
“Of course.”
IMOGENE CREEL:
The Headmistress waited a beat, when she went on even that faint trace of civility was gone. “You know why I’m here, little bird.”
“I think I do, but I’ve been wrong before.” Lenore kept the smile from her mouth, but not her eyes as she added, “I’m sure you understand, I’m not Bly Academy material, after all.”
Imogene Creel pushed up from her seat and stepped around it to close on the Black Courtier. “You have something that doesn’t belong to you, brat. I came to get it back.”
Lenore held her ground without so much as a flinch. “Do you really think she deserves to have them back after the way she choked at Slaybor Day?” At least tell me you’ll give her a good, stern talking to before you give them to her again. Or are you such a doting mother that you’ll make a Transatlantic flight ANY TIME someone makes her submit to a Titty Twister in front of a worldwide audie--”
Imogene stormed forward and Lenore did the same, the pair of brunettes almost nose to nose before Sydney barked, “Don’t even think about it. Either of you. We all know why you’re here, Imogene. So state your case and let’s get this settled. I didn’t have time for your prissy Bly bullshyt twenty-five years ago and I sure as hell don’t have time for it now.”
Creel took a deep breath as well as couple steps back. “Pardon my rudeness, Sydney. The stink of this one interferes with my usual decorum.”
Lenore’s left hand twitched at her side, but a grim effort kept it from finding the older woman’s face. “You heard Syd.” she said quietly. “Tell me what you want or get the f*ck out.”
“A match, you insolent shrew.” the Headmistress answered at once. “Same rules as our first encounter, even if the venue is hardly worthy of my presence. You put your bracelets on the line and as proper incentive I shall do the same. Winner leaves with both. Loser leaves with bruises and shame. Are those terms acceptable, little bird”
“With one small addition.” Lemarchand replied. “Bracelets AND briefs on the line. You’re here to take something I rightfully earned, it’s only fair I get a chance to do the same. Hopefully you brought a pair with the Bly insignia on the seat, but I’ll be happy with anything as long as I get to stuff them in your mou--”
Imogene SLAPPED her mouth and Lenore SLAPPED her right back, the cross-generational rivals no longer able to control their disdain for one another.
The rematch might’ve started then and there if Deschain hadn’t come from around her desk to shoulder them apart. “What did I just say?” the Mangler warned. “We’ll do this the right way, or we won’t do it at all. Terms have been made on both sides. Are they acceptable?”
“Yes.” Imogene said after a long silence. “Anything to make this little bytch scream one more time.”
“I accept.” Lenore agreed. “If only to show this withered hag just why her little girl fears me so.”
Creel said nothing, though she did muster a smile as cold as her ‘Murderous’ daughter’s. When she did speak, it was to Sydney. “When? Don’t make me wait too long, Deschain.”
“Sunday night.” Syd answered without hesitation. “Everyone will be otherwise occupied with ‘Mania, so we’ll have this place to ourselves.”
“We?” Lenore asked.
“You need a referee, don’t you? Is there anyone else you want observing this match?”
“I warn you Sydney, if you try anything untow--”
“I never needed a crooked referee to beat you, Imogene.” the Mangler said softly.
“Nor I, you.” Creel hissed. “The little bird on the other hand…”
“Syd wouldn’t lift a finger to help me, especially not against a bytch like you.” Lemarchand growled. “She wouldn’t want to cheat me of the satisfaction of making you submit.”
“Or give you any excuse when you lose yet again, I suspect. It’s time for your final lesson, Lenore Lemarchand. And it will be my exquisite pleasure to deliver it in the most agonizing manner imaginable. Now if you’ll excuse me.”
The Headmistress took her leave of Sydney Deschain’s office, making a point to shoulder-check Lenore in her passing.
The Raven whipped around and would’ve snatched a handful of hair if Syd hadn’t caught hold of her wrist. “Let her go.” Deschain said after Creel was gone. “You got what you wanted.”
“Not just yet.” Lemarchand answered. “Once I hear her screams echoing off the walls of the Hellhole, then I’ll have what I want.”
“You’ll get your chance soon enough. I hope three days is enough time to prepare.”
“I’ve been preparing for this since June. If a few more days isn’t enough, I deserve to lose.”
“Fair enough. Now do me a favor and hit the showers. No offense, but you’re kind of ripe.”
Lenore sniffed, offered Deschain a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I didn’t want to keep the Headmistress waiting.”
“And so you didn’t. Now go on, take the rest of the night off. You’ve earned it.”
“Will do. Oh, one other thing.”
“Yes?”
“One of these days I want to hear about your interactions with that witch.”
“If you’d like. But not until she’s well in your rearview mirror. This is your story after all, Lenore.”
“Yes it is.” Lemarchand agreed. “And I’ve already got a perfectly horrible ending in mind.”
********
The second battle between the Headmistress and the Raven began with infinitely less pomp and circumstance than any battle at the FAWN Arena that night. There were no pyrotechnics, no proclamations from the Announcer, no meticulously crafted video packages and certainly no roar from the crowd. In truth their arrival in the Hellhole was silent save for the echoing ‘shunk’ and ‘whooosh’ of the double doors opening and closing as Sydney Deschain made her way to the empty ring.
As much a traditionalist as Imogene when it came to certain aspects of their chosen profession, the Woodsboro Mangler wore simple black yoga pants and the traditional black & white striped referee’s shirt she kept on hand for occasions just like tonight. Taking a moment to confirm the ring was in tip-top shape (no surprise, it was) Deschain took her place in the center and called, “Let’s do this.”
The door to the ‘visitors’ locker room opened and Imogene emerged without a word, the Headmistress of Bly Academy quickly striding across the cavernous space with the expression of a woman enduring deplorable circumstances to settle some important business. For tonight’s act of vengeance she wore a simple albeit flattering two piece in Bly maroon and just as her opponent had hoped, the seat featured the seal of that venerated institution. Each wrist was adorned in a chunky gold bracelet that the adversaries of Bly knew all too well. Simple black boots and pads completed the ensemble Ascending the steel steps in silence, Imogene breezed right by Sydney on her way to the corner that allowed the best view of the miserable fledgling she meant to grind beneath her heel once and for all.
With Creel situated thusly, Deschain stamped on the mat twice, the sound of it more than enough to call forth the Fair & Radiant Maiden. Like her opponent Lenore sported a two-piece, a slightly more stripped down version of the purplish ‘feathered’ look she usually wore for FAWN matches. Her togs didn’t feature a seal but there was an insignia, a stylized raven she meant to set atop Imogene’s nose at multiple points throughout the evening. And just like Creel, she sported a pair of golden bracelets, though hers had been earned in a far less traditional manner. Her boots and pads were also black, the former polished to a gleaming shine. Up the steps shortly thereafter, Lemarchand entered the ring and immediately took the opposite corner either because she didn’t feel like raising the Raven sigil or because she didn’t trust herself not to throw herself at the Headmistress. Whatever her reasoning, it was all the prompting Syd needed to begin her cursory pre-match checks.
Satisfied that neither woman had secreted another weapon on their person, (she knew about the bracelets, after all) Sydney moved to the center of the ring, then glanced at Lenore. “Ready?”
Lemarchand dipped her head ever so slightly.
Deschain turned her attention to the visiting Englishwoman. “Imogene?”
The Headmistress snorted in soft, but unmistakable derision. “Ring the bell and stand aside, Sydney.”
With no Timekeeper (the Hellhole never bothered with such niceties) to do as Creel bade, Syd simply took a step back and motioned the brunettes toward one another.
Imogene strode away from the buckles at once, though her approach followed a circuitous, almost leisurely route along the ropes. “Did you really think you could get away with it?” Creel asked the reprobate Raven in a cool, crisp tone. “That simply hiding yourself away in this decrepit shyt heap would be adequate protection against the grievous insult done not only to my family, but the very institute that is Bly?”
Lenore mirrored the older woman’s pace to set them on course not for a head-on collision, but an ever tightening gyre that would bring them together sooner than later. “At what point did you think I was hiding?” the Courtier retorted. “Was it when I stole these?” she raised the purloined jewelry to chest level, “Or was it when I sat on Elise’s snide little face and gave her the slightest taste of the torture you put me through back at Bly? Oh, I know! You must’ve thought I was hiding when I looked you into the camera and practically dared you to step away from your personal fiefdom to come and teach me a lesson… since it’s obvious Elise isn’t up to the ta--”
‘Task’ was still on Lemarchand’s lips when Creel cut across the ring on a razor-sharp diagonal, her immaculately manicured nails glittering under the cool fluorescents of the Hellhole as she swiped at the Raven’s “NGH!”
The Fair & Radiant Maiden lunged to meet the incoming veteran, not with a clench or answering swipe, but a straight right hand that PWAAAKED against Imogene’s chin! Creel’s head snapped back and the rest of her followed along, the Headmistress shaking her own noggin to clear it of “EERRGHH!” Lemarchand pounced on the author of her Shameful Summer and drew her down into a Side Headlock, Imogene grunting aloud as her temple mashed against the point of the younger brunette’s hip. Cupping Creel’s chin so she could gouge her fingers into the older woman’s cheek, Lenore kept the Headlock nice snug while she filled her free hand with hair and tugged it back ‘n forth like she meant to peel it off her scalp!
Imogene growled, pumped a few quick punches into Lemarchand’s belly, then caught a handful of briefs just above the small of her back and used the resultant wedgie to march the both of ‘em into the ropes. Hooking a leg between bottom and middle strands rather than give up a hand, Creel continued to raise the wedgie while simultaneously dragging her nails up and down the flat expanse of her opponent’s tummy.
Understanding the mood of her charges quicker than even Nick Castle could claim, Sydney didn’t bother with anything so civil as a warning, she simply stepped in and barked, “ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!”
The rivals broke apart with a mutual shove that left Lenore in the ropes and Imogene a few steps removed. “Closed fist punches and hair-pulling?” the Headmistress sniffed as she smoothed her hair back. “I always knew you weren’t Bly material, but I didn’t know you were tra--”
CRACK!
Lenore feigned a slap to draw Imogene’s hands high, then laid lightning across her décolletage with a nasty Knife-Edge Chop! “Why you insufferable little--”
Creel’s Chop was just as sudden as the American’s, alas Lemarchand defenses proved the tiniest bit quicker as she pirouetted out of the way with a whisper to spare. The miss put Imogene in the ropes chest-first, an arrangement that wouldn’t have been nearly so hateful if the Raven hadn’t crowded in against her back. Deftly reaching both hands under the top rope, Lenore brought her hands up and laced them across the back of Creel’s noggin so she tug her down throat-first against the rubber-coated steel!
“ROPES!” the Headmistress croaked around the awkward encroachment. “Buuuuhhhh…bring this whelp to heel, DeschainNOOOOW!”
Lemarchand gave the Cravate one more rough yank before she crooked her fingers into claws and raaaaaaaaaked them down the older woman’s back! Imogene sucked in a gasp as the other brunette cleared off, but she held her tongue until she’d turned to face the younger wrestler. “Is that truly the best you can muster, little girl? Cowardly dodges and catty little parlor tricks? You must know that as soon as I get my hands on you I’ll--”
“You’ll have to catch me first, hag.” Lenore interrupted with an icy brusqueness that narrowed the Headmistress’ eyes to furious slits. “And I don’t need to run to know you can’t keep up. The only advantage you had at Bly was surprise and you gave that away the instant you let Elise show her face during your gloating video message. Now that’s gone, just as useless as these bracelets… in Elise’s hands, anyway.”
Imogene started forward, gained control of herself and settled back against the strands. “You’d be wise to forget her name for the rest of the evening.” the Englishwoman murmured. “The more you bring her to mind, the worse this ends. I like to consider myself a generous mother, but the very sound of your voice makes it difficult to imagine leaving even the tiniest of scra--”
“Shut your goddamned mouth.” Emily’s Lady in Waiting snapped. “All these threats aren’t very becoming of the Bly Headmistress are they?” Lenore waited a beat, throwing a glance to Deschain in the brief silence. “They sound more like overcompensation from a disappointed absentee mothe--”
No show of self control now, Creel went for Lemarchand with her claws outstretched and she would’ve snatched a massive double handful if the nimble Courtier hadn’t laid out on one side and threaded her ankles between Imogene’s lower legs. The Drop Toe Hold set Creel down flat on her face, the furious veteran’s noggin bouncing back after her forehead BWONKED the thinly-sheathed plywood. Lenore did a half turn like she was planning to run the ropes, but she swung back when Imogene powered to hands and knees a bit quicker than anticipated. Rather than make space she closed in all the closer, swinging one long leg over the Headmistress’ torso so she could THWUMP the curve of her glutes into the hollow of Imogene’s back.
Creel crumpled to her stomach, braced both forearms on the canvas, then cursed in most undignified fashion when Lenore clamped down on her biceps and cranked those captured arms backward over her knees. Far too well traveled to simply give the Camel Clutch away, Imogene pressed her chin to her sternum half a heartbeat before she began to rake her nails across Lenore’s thighs over and over again.
Gritting her teeth against the slashing pain, Lemarchand flattened her left hand into a paddle and slapped Creel’s ear three or four times. That slowed the raking without loosening the Briton’s chin, so Lenore pressed her hands to Imogene’s cheeks, slipped an index finger into each nostril and craaaaaaaaaaaanked out!
“Eeeeeeeeerrrrrhhhhhh!” Creel hissed in a tone of nasal distress. “Are… are these the sort of tactics you impart to the mongrels in your care, DesRRRGGGGHHHHH!”
Lenore went from nostril to fishhook, the Raven forcing the taller brunette’s aristocratic features into a pained rictus. “I didn’t teach her that.” Syd answered blandly. “Girl knew how to hook someone long before she walked through that door. Now, do you want to give--”
“Never.” Creel spat. “Don’t waste my time with such nonGGGRRRRRRRHHH!” Imogene had lifted her head to alleviate a bit of the strain, so Lenore relinquished the Fishhooks and laced both hands under her tormentor’s chin.
CAMEL CLUTCH:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=sFIyPUYgaFA
Camel Clutch, Lenore Lemarchand to Imogene Creel.
The pain in her neck and lower back brought a temporary halt to Imogene’s clawing, as she could only scrabble and swat at the younger woman’s outer thighs. Lemarchand noted this and applied even more pressure, the Courtier hunching forward to gather her strength before rocking back on her heels so forcibly the curve of her butt thumped against the small of the older woman’s back. Near silence reigned over the Hellhole for perhaps thirty seconds, the only discernible noise a low hum from the overhead lights and the occasional suppressed grunt from the Headmistress. Eventually Creel regained control over her faculties and so the clawing resumed, though Lenore immediately noted that the Briton’s fingers were inching closer and closer to the pits of her knees.
Quick to punish Imogene with another distraction, Lenore halved the Chinlock so she had a hand free to repeatedly tweak her rival’s nipples. Creel groaned a little louder and something must have passed across her face because Sydney asked, “What do you say, Imogene?”
“Thuuhhh… that this whey-faced little prude attacks a bust like she’s never wrestled under penthouse rules. Perhaps that’s why she’s been humiliated by the likes of Olivia Dare and that harridan Fiona WaterforRRRRRGGGGGHHH!”
Lenore doubled down on the Chinlock and cranked back to such a degree that she was now seated on the Headmistress’ glutes while Creel was forced to look into the overhead lights.
“Tell me again, Imogene.” Deschain sounded concerned now, understandable considering the severe curve of the Englishwoman’s back.
“I do not submit.” she growled. “I am the Headmistress of Bly Academy and I am here to DISCIPLINE this impudent little--”
“The hell you HEY!” Lenore’s denial was interrupted when Imogene shifted to the right and slid her left knee all the way forward. Doing so allowed her to essentially crawl out from under the Camel Clutch, but it must have wracked her back something fierce because Syd saw an absolutely hellish grimace play over the Headmistress’ face before her features regained their usual composure.
Tethered to her adversary with what was now little more than an aggressive Rear Chinlock, Lemarchand got up fast and slipped ‘round in front to catch the other brunette in a Front Facelock. What might’ve come after that remained a mystery because Imogene snaked her arms around Lemarchand’s waist and plowed forward until they reached the springy perimeter of the ropes. Catching the second strand in a death grip, Imogene asked, “Deschain, would you kindly inform this whelp that I’m in the ropeNGH!”
The Fair & Radiant Maiden smashed an Overhand Forearm Shot across the Headmistress’ shoulders once, twice, three times! The last one broke Creel’s hold on the ropes, so Lenore turned ‘em in a quarter circle (so they were parallel to the edge) and dropped back flat to spike the Brit’s forehead with a DDNO!
Imogene hooked the top rope in the nick of time, meaning she stayed anchored and upright while Lemarchand THWHAMMED down against the thinly-sheathed plywood! Lenore’s hands flew to the back of her aching skull, but that turned out to be the least of her problems because Imogene promptly secured her ankles to stretch those long legs in a vulnerable ‘V’ “Nnnnnnhhhh… tricky bytcOOOOOOHHHHHH SHYTNNNNGGGGGGHHHH!”
Imogene stamped her heel into the fork of the Courtier’s crotch, then went up on tiptoes and dropped to her knees, all the better to THWUMP her forehead into the same spot! Drawn up into a fetal ball in the wake of this callous attack, Lenore barely had enough time to roll onto her side before Imogene grabbed a massive handful of hair and forced her to stand alongside all knock-kneed and pale-faced. Shoving the younger woman around in a half circle that had her facing the other side of the ring, Creel threaded her head under Lemarchand’s left arm while simultaneously wrapping her right arm around opposing midriff and setting a bracing hand against the back of Lenore’s left thigh. Trap set, the Headmistress muscled Lenore onto her right shoulder, took a couple big steps forward, then went down on one knee and THWHUMPED the Raven tailbone-first atop the posted joint!
ATOMIC DROP @ 00:07
www.youtube.com/watch?v=EQUTmUO54t4
Lemarchand bounced up and away, the bendy-back shooting onto tiptoes as one hand pressed to the aggrieved curve of her glutes. Pleased with the separation after that crowded opening skirmish, Imogene broke into a run that took her by close to Lenore’s left flank. Hitting the ropes directly in front of the baby-stepping brat, Creel raced back at top speed and ‘smecked’ her right hand around Lemarchand’s windpipe in a Goozle that took both wrestlers off their feet! Of course Imogene landed on her knees while Lenore crashed down on her back, the purple-clad brunette squirming and twisting as her heels beat an erratic SOS against the deck. The Headmistress didn’t give a damn for these escape efforts, she clamped her left hand to the Courtier’s right shoulder and stretched out like someone doing a push-up to apply that much more pressure to Lemarchand’s windpipe.
RUNNING CHOKE TAKEDOWN:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=CKPnGliIt20
In spite of the rather fiendish moniker, the Hellhole was anything but lax when it came to enforcing the rules, as evidenced by the way Syd bypassed a warning in favor of counting a simple, “ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!”
Imogene released the choke and settled back on her haunches to flash a baleful glare at the Technical Marvel. “So that’s how you’re going to play it?” she asked. “Not even pretending to hide your bias?”
“Don’t f*cking start with me, Imogene. I gave you an internal five, just the same as everyone else.”
Hands on her thighs, the Headmistress treated Deschain to a smile like charring paper. “I’m not everyone else, old friend. I’m the superior of everyone who’s ever trudged through that door.”
Syd arched an eyebrow, though her voice remained neutral. “Care to reassess that statement, Imogene?”
“Not in the slightest.”
Creel dismissed Deschain to bury a hand in Lenore’s hair, the visiting Brit doubling down on that grip before she stood up and segued to the Chinlock that returned Lenore to stooped verticality. Using that clasp to keep the woozy brunette close, Imogene twisted around so that the ladies finished up standing back to back with Lenore’s head bent awkwardly over the curve of Creel’s right shoulder. Realizing her predicament, Lemarchand reached for the Englishwoman’s wrists and-- the Headmistress kicked both legs forward and landed on her butt, a sheer vertical descent that THWHUNKED the base of Lenore’s skull against her shoulder!
HANGMAN'S NECKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=INbq0JmdiBU
Emily’s Lady in Waiting landed on her tush as well, though she snapped forward on impact, her forehead almost touching her knees as she cradled her throbbing skull.
Behind her, Imogene took several deep, luxurious breaths pressed both hands to the small of her aching back. Powering free of the Camel Clutch had cost more than she’d care to admit, but it was worth it to humble the insolent little bird. Speaking of whom…
Imogene spun around, crawled up behind the Courtier and reached over Lemarchand’s right shoulder to take possession of her left wrist. “I should strip you of these this instant.” Creel said of the bracelets as she tugged Lenore’s arm across her throat in a Half Straightjacket. Instead of carrying through on the threat, she hooked her left leg over the exposed wrist and dropped to a seat. From there she brought her right leg up, then crossed her ankles and yaaaaaaaaaanked back to draw Lenore’s arm that much tighter to her windpipe. “But I think I’ll let you wear them for now. If only to remind you that you’ll never be Bly material, no matter how hard you try.”
SCISSORED STRAIGHTJACKET CHOKE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=zTOqbpckEYU
Lemarchand made a noise that suggested she didn’t give a damn what the Headmistress thought of her academic credentials, though it could’ve just has easily been the sound of a wrestler fighting for breath against a compressed windpipe. Whatever it was, Sydney hunkered down by the action and asked, “What do you say, Lenore? Need to call it a night?”
The Raven waggled a finger ‘no, no, no’ rather than waste precious oxygen on words. This silent denial seemed to irritate Creel because she began to jounce Lenore’s captured wrist as forcibly as her position would allow. “Guuuhhhrrrrrhhhhhh!” Lemarchand hissed through clenched teeth. “That all you got, teach? I thought Bly trash lived to make their opponent’s screaRGH! ARH! AAAAARRRRRHHHH BYTCH!”
Oh so happy to give the insolent Courtier a taste of home, Imogene shifted her right boot so she could jab / scuff the roughened heel across Lenore’s cheek once, twice, three times, her last pass turning into a lingering griiiiiiiiiiind of those haughty patrician features. “Ask her again, if you would be so kind.” Creel cooed to the Marvel. “I’m interested to see if she can form a cogent responGH! GRH! GRRHHH!”
Lemarchand’s answer was crystal clear, albeit entirely nonverbal. Crooking her right arm into a short ‘V’, she jabbed that elbow into the backside of her opponent’s thigh half a dozen times in about as many seconds. “Luuuhhh…leggo hag. Don‘t make me tell you twice.” Lenore’s tone was strained, but more composed now that she was gouging away at her tormentor’s leg.
Imogene snorted, shifted her right foot to the base of Lenore’s skull and pushed forward while simultaneously reefing back on the Straightjacket. “You’re in no position to dictate terms, little girl. So if I were you I’d start thinking about terms of surrender instead of trying my patienOOOOOWWWWW FILTHY TROLLOP!”
The Fair & Radiant Maiden shifted her elbow down and in, the bony dagger finding the center of the Headmistress’ sensible maroon briefs! Painful to be sure, yet Creel continued to gnash and grind with her boot, the Englishwoman determined to break Lemarchand’s will with--“AAAAAAAAHHH!”
Lenore forced her free arm backward through Imogene’s stems, thus allowing her an enthusiastic, if not slightly awkward, claw grip on Imogene’s trunks! “Ask her.” Lemarchand rasped to Deschain as she sent half a dozen nauseating pulses through the veteran’s undercarriage. “She squeals like someone who hasn’t been in a catfight in twenty yearNNNNNGGGHH!”
Creel drew her right foot back and straight up DROVE it into the back of her opponent’s skull! The brutal counter ended the Claw and the Choke, though Imogene stubbornly maintained her hold on the stunned brunette’s left wrist. “You sniveling little toe rag, did you really think such a base assault would grant you a moment’s peace?” the Headmistress sneered as she used the Wristlock to haul Lenore to verticality. “Allow me to demonstrate the painfully high cost of such idiotic lapses.”
Still holding that wrist, Imogene doubled Lenore over with a Toe Kick, pulled the Courtier’s arm across her throat and reeled her into a Front Facelock. The Fair & Radiant Maiden balled her right hand into a fist and pounded away at Creel’s flank, unfortunately her efforts earned nothing more than a disdainful sneer from the Briton. “Pathetic. You’re far more trapped rat than stately raven, as far as I’m conUURRGGGH!”
An errant fist struck the small of Imogene’s back, resulting in a silver twinge that might’ve resulted in a jailbreak if Lenore had had the time to deliver a few more punches. As it was the Headmistress grit her teeth and snapped backward to THWHONK her victim’s forehead into the canvas with a flawless Straightjacket DDT. The landing did nothing for her aching back, but Creel’s adrenaline was high and she immediately floated over into a cover, the older woman hooking the far leg in a domineering cradle good for the…
STRAIGHTJACKET DDT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=pIgXzIK5EkA
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
Lenore kicked out with a full half second to spare, but that didn’t stop Imogene from swatting the back of one hand into her palm to count off a quicker “One! Two! Three! That’s how it’s done, idiot!”
Deschain didn’t roll her eyes, she just let Creel hear it in her voice. “Don’t be childish, Imogene. It’s unbecoming. And you damned well that wasn’t three.”
“Indeed. It was almost assuredly four.” the Headmistress focused her ire on the Raven, snatching a huge handful of hair to haul the beleaguered brunette off the mat in fits and starts. Once Lenore was (mostly) vertical, Creel dipped her left shoulder and slipped it through the younger woman’s thighs to boost her onto her shoulders in a Fireman’s Carry that differentiated ever so slightly from the norm by way of the fact that Imogene had Lenore’s left wrist gripped in her right hand.
“Should’ve known better than to bother with something as complicated as ’counting’ on this side of the Atlantic.” Creel snipped at Sydney. “After all, a sob of surrender is irrefutable and, if I’m being honest with myself, far more satisfying.”
The last word was barely out of her mouth when the Headmistress went up on tiptoe and snapped forward and down, the pitiless veteran doubling over to drive Lemarchand into the deck with a ring-rattling THAWHUMP!
FIREMAN'S CARRY SLAM:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ml5XH0pgO24
Emily’s Lady in Waiting arched her back on impact and tumbled onto her belly shortly thereafter, presumably to guard against another pin attempt. In that regard the tactic worked perfectly, however it did nothing to prevent the sadistic Englishwoman from dropping to her knees with both joints impaling the small of the Courtier’s back.
“OH F*CK!”
“Is about what London said when I had her in a similar position.” “Imogene chortled in the midst of deftly tucking Lenore’s left ankle into the pit of her right knee for a quick Figure Four. “I wonder if you’ll hold out as long as she did? I wonder if you’ll scream loud--”
“Shut up, for f*ck’s sake.” Lemarchand grunted as she tried to wriggle out from under the domineering veteran. “Even Elise knows when it’s time to just shut up and fighHEEERRRGGGHHNNNNGHHH!”
Imogene helped herself to a huge handful of Lenore’s dark hair and cranked her head back just to bounce her forehead off the canvas. “You will learn humility.” the Headmistress promised. “You will learn respect. “Most of all, you will learn… your… place.” Knees already braced against the Raven’s back, Imogene shifted from hair-hold to Chinlock and rolled onto her back which in turn muscled the hapless bendy-back up across her posted knees. “Don’t you so much as peep!” Creel snapped at Sydney when the Mangler took a step toward her charges. “I’ve decided she should suffer for--”
BOW & ARROW:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=4tW3NAfLdV8
“What do you say, Lenore?” Deschain interrupted. “Is this over?”
“Like hell it isSSSEEERGHRGHRGHRGHRGH!”
Imogene yoked down on ankles and chin while bobbling her knees as violently as possible. The hellacious Bow & Arrow bent Lenore’s spine exactly as promised, yet twenty seconds passed without the wails of surrender Creel sought so avidly. Ever more aware of the ache radiating from her own back, the Headmistress bared her teeth and pumped her legs until Lemarchand couldn’t help but groan in anguish. “Say it.” she ordered. “ Admit you’re helpless within my grasp!”
“Suhhhh… so what if I am?” Lenore hissed. “Doesn’t change that fact that your precious daughter is still my bytch.”
The effortless certainty with which Lemarchand issued that slanderous proclamation made Imogene draw a sharp, furious breath. “She is your superior in every way imaginable, little girl.” the Headmistress explained. “And you will be made to understand as such before you are permitted to leave this--”
Emily’s Lady in Waiting stopped pulling at the older woman’s bracelet and went at her hand instead, Lenore working her fingers in under Imogene’s palm not to prize it loose, but to squeeze as hard as she could. Creel hissed and shook her head ‘no’, clearly unwilling to abandon the spirit-breaking hold. “Useless as ever.” she sneered. “Are the lessons of this summer already starting to fade, Ms. Lemarchand? Defying my will only leads to pain and humiliatiAAARRRRHHHHH!”
Lenore switched her grip to Imogene’s thumb and wrenched the digit like she meant to snap it right off! Eliminating the Briton’s Chinlock allowed Lemarchand to roll off Creel’s knees and onto her chest in a rough Crossbody. Sydney stepped forward in case the Courtier sought a quick pin, then backed off just as quickly when Lenore balled her right hand into a fist and pwak-pwak-pwak-PWAAAKED half a dozen Hammer Fists into the Headmistress’ defenseless tummy!
“BYTCH!” Creel huffed in breathless distress, her legs kicking wildly as she tried to get out from under the resurgent Raven. After a few seconds of no marked progress, she reached up with her right hand, caught a handful of Lenore’s purple briefs and yanked them into oblivion with a wedgie worthy of the Bly Academy. “Get off of me, right NOW!” Imogene demanded of the squealing brunette as she continued to saw her trunks back ‘n forth. “Don’t make me repeat myself, trollOOOOHHHHHH YOU BLOODY WHOOOOOOOOORE, LET GO!”
Patrician features twisted in an ugly mask of anger and pain, Lenore drilled one quick punch into the center of her rival’s trunks, then switched over to a white-knuckled claw affixed to the center of the same target! “Ask… ask her.” Lemarchand grunted to Deschain as she continued to do her best VanBuren impression on Imogene’s undercarriage. “Let’s see if she’ll quit as fast as her brat daug--”
“NEVER!” Imogene’s denial echoed in the grungy rafters of the Hellhole, it’s low rumble providing a nice counterpoint to the brisk SPANK of palm on glutes as the Headmistress abandoned her wedgie for a brace of infuriated slaps.
Enduring the swats with a hard-working smile, Lenore gave the claw a little squeeze, then hooked a few fingers into the leg-holes of Creel’s togs. “We’ll see about that, old woman.”
“You insolent little whelp, don’t you daAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGHHH!”
Imogene went up on tiptoes when Lemarchand unleashed a wedgie of her own, an example of the dreaded ‘Inverted’ variety that was frowned upon in the hallowed halls of Bly Academy.
“How humiliating.” Lenore’s voice was little more than a whisper, yet Imogene heard every word with perfect clarity. “At least none of your students are present to hear you shrieking like a hapless OOOWWW YOU EVIL OLD BYTCH!”
The Raven abandoned her attack on the Headmistress’ trunks to deal with the talons Imogene began to rake across her eyes! Their mutual thrashing finally allowed Creel to buck Lemarchand off her perch and the brunettes rolled to opposite sides of the squared circle to tend to their various aches.
On one knee as she leaned against the strands for support, Lenore pressed the heel of one palm to her left eye while keeping a baleful watch on the Headmistress. “Savage hag.” she growled. “You go for my eye one more time and I swear to God you’ll--”
“You’ll what?” Imogene scoffed from the opposite set of strands. “Make some more toothless threats that’ll devolve into slobbery mewling when I make you submit yet again?”
Lenore took a deep breath and let it out slow before she got to her feet. “I’ll break your spirit.” she promised. “Your students will never know. The Bly trustees will never know. But you’ll know. And Elise will know. I’ll make sure of it.”
The Headmistress’ upper lip curled back from her gums in a snarl of hateful disdain. Regaining to boot-leather a moment later, she made a show of smoothing her hair and ‘flicking’ her togs into place before addressing the Courtier. “Your insolence has been noted for future consideration, specifically when you’re screaming yourself hoarse.”
Eager to resume her painful, pitiless curriculum, Imogene pushed away from the ropes and made her way toward the Fair & Radiant Maiden. Not about to let the Headmistress crowd her against the ropes (she remembered time spent in the turnbuckles of Bly all too well), Lemarchand loped out to meet Creel’s approach but dipped the Haymaker rather than block or engage.
Continuing to the far side without missing a beat, Lenore raced back at the Briton and lashed out with a Clothesline that-- Imogene leaned to one side to avoid the blow while looping her arms around the younger woman’s waist. Gutwrench secure, Creel hoisted Lemarchand into the air and spun her through a two-hundred and seventy degree--“RRRGGGHH!”
A sudden twinge jolted up Imogene’s back, causing the veteran to lose her grip on Lenore just as she swung through the apex of the would-be Backbreaker. Landing on her feet in front of the Headmistress, Lenore savored the surprise on Creel’s face by CRACKING her with across the mouth with a quick Bytch Slap!
Imogene reeled on the spot, bared her teeth and retaliated with a slap that ‘whicked’ through the spot so recently occupied by Lemarchand’s noggin. Circling around behind the incensed Englishwoman, Lenore grabbed a handful of Imogene’s waistband and tugged her into a single Forearm Smash that THWHAPPED against the small of her back. Creel hissed, stumbled a bit, steadied out just in time for the Fair & Radiant Maiden to wedge her head beneath Imogene’s left arm. Controlling the Headmistress with a Half Waistlock and a hand (her left) braced against Brit buttock, Lemarchand powered Creel onto the ball of her right shoulder and promptly slung her back the way she’d came to thump that seemingly ageless backside with a vengeful Atomic Drop!
“NNGGGHH!” Imogene stumbled forward on wobbly tiptoe, one hand reaching for the ropes while the other tended to her tailbone. She made it all of three steps before Lenore hooked her waistband and reeled her into a second heavy Forearm Smash. Stiff though it was, Lemarchand knew her shot shouldn’t have done more than knock Creel off balance, so she was both pleased and surprised to see the Headmistress’ knees almost buckle on impact. That was enough confirmation for the Raven, who hooked her rival up for another keester-crushing Atomic Dro--“NNNNNNNNGGGGHHH!”
Lenore dropped to her knees to THWHUNK the small of Imogene’s back against the ball of her shoulder in a quick, brutal Backbreaker! Creel turned a half circle in midair, the older wrestler landing flat on her tummy, though that secondary impact wasn’t enough to pull either hand from the curve of her aching spine.
BACKDROP-LIFT BACKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=WjoJp6JtxjQ
Relishing the sight of Imogene writhing on the canvas more than she’d ever admit to anyone (especially Kent), Lemarchand allowed herself several deep breaths before she strolled over and casually THWHUMPED a quick, heavy Leg Drop across the Headmistress’ noggin. “What do you think of my insolence now, Imogene?” Lenore sniped as she yanked Creel’s head off the mat. “Still noting it for future consideration? Or maybe you’re too preoccupied wondering if you could answer a f*cking ten co--”
Imogene reached up and clamped down on Lemarchand’s forearm, the grounded veteran digging in just above her opponent’s purloined bracelet. “Yuuuuhhh… your insolence is galling as ever.” she rasped. “And it will be an EXQUISITE pleasure to stifle it beneath my arse once and for AARRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHH!”
Lenore brought her free hand around not to claw, but to scrape the other bracelet against Creel’s eyes, just as Elise had done to her in their most recent encounter.
Sydney allowed the Raven an internal five count before she tapped her on the shoulder. “Off her eyes, Lenore.”
Lemarchand did as she was told, abandoning her abrasive attack for a more traditional hair-hold. Alas this proved only a brief reprieve for Imogene because the Courtier yanked her head back far enough to plant a taunting smooch on her forehead. Then she pushed down hard, Lenore making no effort to hide her smile when she BWONKED Creel’s face against the canvas!
Hands braced against Imogene’s shoulders, Lemarchand pushed off quite a bit harder than strictly necessary and finished off with a single emphatic Stomp to the small of the Briton’s aching back. “Pick yourself up.” Lenore demanded of the other brunette as she ‘snapped’ her briefs into place against the curve of her glutes. “C’mon Imogene, don’t think you’re gonna strut into my house, then lounge around on the mat when you start to lose.”
“Oh, you miserable brat.” Creel groaned once she’d made it to all fours. “Much as it pains me, there may be nothing left for Elise after I’m finished with UGGHH!”
Lenore stepped over and dropped into a deep squat that smashed her rump into, you guessed it, the small of her opponent’s back.
SEATED SENTON TO BACK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uk3OPBHs6Ek
Imogene collapsed to the mat, set her hands and started to rise only to collapse when she was wracked by a painful spasm. “What’s the matter, Headmistress?” Lemarchand swatted the older woman’s hands away from her throbbing spine. “Starting to feel your age?”
“Yuuuhhh… you’ll feel my boot on your NGH!” Lenore drove a quick Stomp into the back of Creel’s skull, then spun ‘round and ran the ropes. Imogene registered the patter of boots and knew what was coming, but she couldn’t muster the energy to roll out of the way or even turn over onto her back so she grit her teeth and almost stifled a scream when Lenore took to the skies and came THWUMPING down on those abused vertebrae with a heavy Senton!
Twisting onto her belly after impact, Lemarchand shot a Half Nelson to roll Imogene over so she could hook the far leg and press a domineering forearm to English tits in a cover good for…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
“Nice kick-out, teach.” Lenore chided the Headmistress after the near-fall. “But it looks like it took a lot out of you.”
“Nuuuhhhh… not so much that I can’t AAAGGGGHH!”
The Fair & Radiant Maiden cupped her hands to Imogene’s cheeks and slipped three fingers (index, middle and ring) in on each side for a particularly vengeful Fishhook! “So much that you can’t what?” Lenore pressed a knee between Creel’s shoulders to make the predicament that much more painful. “Scream like a scared old lady when I start clawing your mouth?”
“BHHIDGE!” Imogene gurgled as Lemarchand continued to pull and tear. “GHEDYORFILTHEEANDSOUDOFHMYAAARRRRRRRRRHHH!”
The hooks gave way to a half Chinlock so Lenore could resume dragging the callous gold bracelet across Imogene’s wailing face! “How do you like it? HOW DO YOU LIKE IT?” the Raven snarled at her wailing prey.
“STAAAAAAAHHHHHP!” Imogene wail’s echoed in the rafters, her usually stoic façade crumbling rapidly as Lenore served up a bitter dose of her own medicine.
Hearing the desperation in the other woman’s voice, Lemarchand shifted over to a domineering hair-hold and fish-face combination and gave both a little jostle before she asked, “Are you submitting to the Raven in the center of the Hellhole?”
“Nuuuuhhhh… never.” Creel rasped. “Huuuuhhh…ahhh… I am the Headmistress of Bly Academy and I NNNNNGGHHH!”
Lenore smashed a brutal Crossface Forearm into Imogene’s jaw to bring the haughty declaration to a premature end. “Yes. Yes, you are.” the lithesome bendy-back admitted as she got to her feet. “And tonight your evil old ass belongs to me.”
Imogene offered her nothing save a weary curse, leaving Lemarchand in relative peace as she circled around to the other brunette’s feet. Once there she sank into a crouch and helped herself to Creel’s boots before standing up and draaaaaaaaaaagging her around in a rough circle. The strategic value of this act was negligible at best and unnecessary at worst, but Deschain never questioned Lenore’s motives because she knew damned well what her pupil had in mind.
Sometimes a match demanded you finish your opponent as quickly as possible once the opportunity presented itself.
And sometimes a match demanded you take your time, to make sure your opponent knew there was nothing she could do about her inevitable end.
This thought had just flitted from the Marvel’s mind when Lemarchand yanked the Headmistress’ stems apart and casually dropped the point of her right knee into the center of Imogene’s maroon briefs!
“OOOOOHHHHH GOD!” Creel sat up or at least tried to before Lenore stood up without relinquishing her grip on the veteran’s stems. Infinitely aware of her exposure in this predicament, Imogene put both hands to her crotch, then groaned aloud when Lemarchand set her boots atop the Headmistress’ fingers and applied steadily increasing pressure.
“Staaaaaahhhp.” Imogene was pleading. It made Lenore’s heart soar. “Puh-please Lenore. You don’t need to do this. You’re better than NNNNNGGGHHHHH YOU SPITEFUL TWAT!”
The Raven stamped down on Creel’s hands, then raised her foot and stamped on her togs when the Briton pulled them away!
No response from Lemarchand, she just got to her feet, tucked Imogene’s boots into her armpits and locked her hands to create an unbreakable loop. “I think you’re confused, Headmistress.” Lenore said after a deep breath. “I’m not Bly material, remember? Which means I lack the self control to let you leave this ring without doing this.”
‘This’ was still on her lips when she muscled Creel up onto her shoulders, then turned her onto her stomach and stepped over so she could drop her derriere into the agonized hollow of Imogene’s spine. AAAARRRRHHHHHH GAAAAAAHHHH!” Imogene reached for ropes, and finding them out of reach, pressed her palms to the mat and-- Lenore slammed her butt down on Creel’s squirming cheeks and yoked back on the Boston Crab.
BOSTON CRAB:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y1wnT_OxM8Q
“Submit.” Lemarchand demanded. “Tell the Hellhole you can’t take it, hag.”
“THE F*CK I WILL!” Imogene grabbed a double handful of her own hair and pulled in a desperate effort to spread the pain. “THIS HOVEL IS BENEATH ME! YOU ARE BENEATH MEEEEOOOOOOOHHHHHHH!”
Lenore inched up, slid back and settled down, the Courtier sitting directly on the back of her opponent’s head. “Wrong answer, Headmistress.” Lenore flashed an exhausted smile as she scrubbed her glutes on Imogene’s noggin. “Tonight you’re beneath--”
“Submit!” Imogene extended an arm and slapped the canvas once, twice, three times. “I submit! I submit, so let go of me you savage whore!”
Lenore glanced to Sydney, whose expression was hard to read. Eventually the Mangler murmured, “Take what’s yours. If I tell you it’s enough, it’s enough.”
Lenore nodded, then looked over her right shoulder to smirk at Imogene. “Sorry Headmistress, I can be a little slow. Are you submitting?”
“You know damned well RRRGGGHHH!”
Lemarchand slammed her ass down on Imogene’s head. “I said, are you submitting?”
A long pause from the Englishwoman. “Yes.”
“And who made you submit?” “You--”
Lenore tossed Imogene’s right leg down so she could curl her free hand into a claw and affix it to her rival’s undercarriage. She gave the grip a soft, malicious squeeze and repeated her question. “Who made you submit?”
“Lenore Lemarchand made me submit.” Imogene hissed through clenched teeth. “That’s what I thought. Now take off your bracelets and toss them aside. They’re mine now.”
“How dare you.”
Lenore bounced her rump on the back of the Headmistress’ noggin. “This is how I dare. Now do you give me your bracelets or do I take your trunks?”
The silence in the Hellhole spun out for more than ten seconds until it was broken by the soft ‘tink-tink- of Imogene tossing her bracelets on the canvas. “There.” the veteran huffed. “Take your prize and leave me beNO! NO YOU BRAT, DON’T YOU DARMMMMMRRRRPPPHHHH!”
Lemarchand shifted her weight as she tossed Creel’s leg aside which allowed the victorious Courtier to shovel Imogene onto her back. Scoot-sliding into position above the squirming Briton’s features, Lenore swatted her tush with both hands, then sat down to engulf Imogene’s nose in her crushing glutes.
“Yuuuuhhh… you preening strumpet.” Creel wriggled beneath the younger wrestler’s weight but with her arms pinned overhead she couldn’t even rake Lemarchand’s back, let alone shake the Raven from her perch. “I promise you’ll suffer for this indign--”
Lenore hooked her fingers beneath the cups of Imogene’s top and pulled ‘em up and over, spilling the Headmistress’ bounty within the confines of the squared circle for the first time in lord only knows how long. “Maybe I will.” Lemarchand admitted as she removed her own bracelets. “But it won’t be tonight. Tonight I teach you about the Hellhole difference.”
“As if there’s anything a scrawny fledgling like you could teach OOOOOOWWWWWWWW F*CK!”
The Fair & Radiant Maiden took Creel’s nubs in those pitiless golden pincers and worked out four months of frustration with a single violent twist! “Not fun, is it?” Lenore asked as she continued to twisssssssssssst and puuuuuuuuuuuuull on her moaning rival’s pliant flesh.
“Muuuhhh… mere motivation for the next time we meeAAAAAAGGGGHHHH STOP! STAAHP!” Imogene slapped the mat with both hands and beat her heels in presumed surrender, not that it earned her any respite from the domineering brunette. “STOP FOR CHRISSAKES, YOU WIN!”
Lenore traded her tugging for a sustained clench of those high, haughty buttocks. “You want this to end, Headmistress?”
“Yuuuhhh…yes! Get your bony arse off my OOOOOOOHHHHHHH NOOOOOO!”
Lenore resumed her twisting, tweaking torment. “Beg me.” Lemarchand demanded. “Beg for your tits or I’ll make put two decades of hard catfighting on them before I toss your old ass out of my ring.”
“You… you’ll pay for thiAAAAAIIIEEEEEE PLEASE! PLEASE STOP!”
“Stop what?” Lenore murmured. “MY NIPPLES! STOP TWISTING MY NIPPLES!”
“Sounds like you’re pleading, Headmistress. And pleading is for losers. Are you a loser?”
“YES!” Imogene bawled. “I’M A LOSER! OOOOOHHHHH GAWD, MY NIP--”
“Do you want a rematch?” Lemarchand asked with a sly smile. “Maybe another chance for me to maul your--”
“NO!” Creel interrupted with a ragged sob. “NO REMATCH! NO REMATCH, YOU WIN! YOU WIN, JUST LET ME GOOOOMMMMPPPPPGGGHHHHH!”
Lenore spread her knees a little wider and settled down atop the Headmistress’ pleading mug to seal off Imogene’s mouth and nose. Tucking the soles of her boots against the sides of Creel’s head, Lemarchand eased off on the tweaking and twisting but she didn’t release the bracelets until the Englishwoman sighed her way into the welcoming dark of unconsciousness. Drawing in a deep breath after Imogene passed out, Lenore snapped her bracelets into place, then got to her feet and collected her rival’s discarded jewelry.
“You never told me to stop.” the Raven said to Sydney.
“I never thought you went too far.” Deschain answered. “Feel better?”
Lenore looked at the second set of bracelets and nodded. “Much. These are going to make an excellent centerpiece for my collection.”
“You earned them.” Syd looked down at Imogene, nudged the Briton’s thigh with the toe of one shoe. “Anything you want me to tell her when she wakes up?”
Lemarchand shook her head ‘no’. “Nope. I’m done with Elise, done with Bly Academy, done with this evil hag. Far as I’m concerned, you can send her on her way as soon as she’s got a shirt on. Preferably a FAWN shirt.”
Deschain chuckled. “I can do that. Get out of here, Lenore.”
“Just one more thing, if you don’t mind.”
“Name it.”
Lenore put a boot on Imogene’s belly and extended a hand to the Mangler.
Sydney raised it to the rafters and pointed to the Raven to put an exclamation point on her otherwise unobserved victory.
“Thank you, Sydney.”
“You’re welcome, Lenore.”