Post by EmmaWoods007 on Feb 10, 2021 16:20:26 GMT
SAMANTHA SINCLAIR
CARLA CRASH
…Sammie was on her last legs, and everyone knew it.
Not least of all Carla Crash who rammed her right knee up into Sinclair’s fully exposed, trim tummy, gutting the weary young woman and causing her to release a resigned grunt. Her knees would have given out, were the Hollywood Hooligan not forcibly keeping her on her feet by way of a firm, Front Headlock and tight grip of the perfectly petite Brit’s belt. Folded forwards as she was, her own arms swaying idly down towards the canvas, Sammie was left in little position to resist as Crash SLAMMED home a second, swift kneelift to her gut, Carla burying her weaponised joint with authority! Sinclair bucked, quivered and groaned as she was momentarily popped up onto her tip toes before slumping back down to her previous position, all the while at the continued lack of mercy of her opponent’s attentions.
“You aren’t so tough,” Carla dismissively scowled whilst keeping the People’s Princess rooted in place, the brunette in her grasp unable to even try and pull away before Crash buried a third, STIFF kneelift up into a capitulating tummy. A shimmy ran throughout Sinclair’s thighs and, again, her athletic physique attempted to puddle to the canvas, but Crash refused to let her go.
“I thought you were supposed to be hot shit,” the Boulevard Bytch satisfied herself with a fourth and final knee lift, damn near knocking loose whatever starch had managed to remain in Sammie’s punished body. The returning Sinclair had started strong against her bigger opponent but, in the end, it seemed as though Crash was just too much for her to handle.
Adding a sharp torque to her Front Headlock by way of parting gift, a pained ‘erk’ emerging from Sammie’s lips as her slim body twitched, Carla released her opponent and bullied her to standing upright. Left winded and woozy, the Brit stood before her, Crash fully four inches taller and twenty-five pounds heavier than her outmatched adversary for the evening, clutching Sammie by the front collar of her top as the young woman’s noggin bobbed slightly on her slim shoulders.
“The Upstart Supreme?” Carla scoffed with a rueful shake of her head. “REALLY?” she turned her attention to the FAWNatics, pointing the girl of their collective affections in her grasp. “THIS IS WHO YOU ROOT FOR?”
Initially, the FAWNatics responded with a chorus of boos, the People not appreciating the mistreatment of their Princess, especially not upon her return to the squared circle after spending a better part of a year on the injured list. Those heckles, however, swiftly began to transform into something else entirely, a singular chant building in crescendo until it filled the arena, the Loyalist Legionnaires in attendance attempting to will Sammie’s spirits to bounce back.
“WORLD’S! BEST! BRIT! WORLD’S! BEST! BRIT! WORLD’S! BEST! BRIT!”
It didn’t seem to be working, regardless of their best efforts, and Carla shook her head in resigned exasperation before returning her attention back to the swooning Sinclair.
“Should have stuck to your own weight class,” Crash taunted, adjusting her grip and pulling Sammie forwards. “At least then you could have carried on pretending that you were a big fish.” Turning a compliant Sinclair to one side, she slung one of the girl’s limp arms up and across her shoulders before circling the brunette’s submissive hips with her right arm. Package secured, Carla popped her knees for a second before, with surprisingly little effort, she powered the Little Sparrow up into the air and turned her upside down, the Hardcore Hellcat dropping sharply to the side and NAILING!! Sammie into the canvas across the back of her head and shoulders!
CRASH LANDING
www.youtube.com/watch?v=qs98UH-M_fc
The resounding chant of the FAWNatics faltered when Sinclair was taken airborne, and it ended abruptly when the crowd sweetheart was PLANTED against the deck, her smaller body jolted from head to toe before, falling completely limp, she slumped to the mat in a deflated heap.
Shovelling Sammie over onto her back, Carla secured one of the brunette’s athletic stems and pulled her in for a pinfall, confident in the formalities of the Official’s incoming duties.
ONE!
TWO!!
THRE…
Sinclair SHOVED up a shoulder, a shout on her lips as she rolled over onto her side, breathing heavily for a few seconds before she slumped anew, pretty peepers fluttering as some part of her was desperate to come to. The FAWNatics cheered, seizing any semblance of hope that they could latch onto, willing Sammie to recover.
“Really?” Carla pursed her lips, sat beside Sammie and shaking her head. “Like that is it?” she questioned, exhaling deeply before pinching the bridge of her nose. “Fine, your head must be as thick as Summer’s. You want me to put you back on the shelf,” she questioned, pushing herself back up to standing before forcing the Brit to do the same, scraping her remains off the canvas before she was ready to get back up. “I’ll put you back on the shelf.”
Practically dragging Sinclair across the mat, she pulled her on over to the closest set of turnbuckles before shoving her roughly up against them, slinging the brunettes arms up and over the top ropes to keep her swaying form upright. Adjusting her grip, she grabbed her smaller opponent by her firm thighs, cupping the girl’s taunt little booty before boosting the Former EurAsia Champion up to sitting precariously on the top turnbuckle.
Sammie did as she was bid, her breathing returning to shallow as her slim shoulders slumped, Crash free to take her time as she began climbing the turnbuckles herself. When she made it up to the first set of ropes…
…she guffed out a pained grunt as Sinclair continued to pool her resolve and whacked Carla across her rigid, toned gut with a defiant, stiff little forearm smash. Crash scowled in response, preparing to crack Sinclair across the back of her head of her continued temerity, before Sammie connected with a second strike, and then a third, the little Brit building in momentum before the fifth, and hardest connection with Carla’s exposed gut forced the increasingly pained Hollywood Hooligan, with a visible wince, to dismount.
Sinclair didn’t let her retreat, not with the crowd cheering at her back and button nose scrunching with (adorable) Babyfaced Dander, snagging the American by the back on her noggin and solidly connecting with a sweet, European Uppercut that SNAPPED her adversaries head back. With spit escaping out from between her clenched teeth, Crash back peddled several steps whilst cursing loudly enough to be picked up by the hard camera, shaking her head as she…
…was knocked right off her feet by a glorious Dropkick, Sammie having popped herself up to standing on the top turnbuckle and launching herself into the air!!
TOP TURNBUCKLE MISSILE DROPKICK: @9:30
www.youtube.com/watch?v=GuGZM9ltpbQ
The FAWNatics were in full voice now, and Carla’s frustrations were beginning to get the better of her, the Boulevard Bytch slapping the canvas with both palms after being knocked flat onto her back. Even with her torso protesting, Crash forced herself to roll through the pain and barrelled her way back up to her feet, preparing to…
…eat the entirety of a Sammie Kick!!
The FAWNatics erupted for, while Carla had been quick to return to vertical, Sinclair was riding a wave of Babyface Adrenaline, back on her feet just as quickly via FAWN’s Favourite Kip Up and launching into her heart swelling strike!!
Carla’s head snapped back on her shoulders after boot leather connected firmly with the underside of her jaw and, with expression looking glassy, she teetered on the spot but didn’t quite topple over, the Finisher perhaps not possessing the same oomph it usually did.
Seeing her opponent still standing, Sammie back peddled a full step and almost tumbled, still feeling woozy and her fatigued frame threatening to betray her at the last moment. She pooled her resolve before inhaling a deep breath, letting it all back out again with a loud, proud (and not terribly) fearsome Warcry as she surged right back into the breach for one last assault, the People’s Princess connecting with a second, far more BLISTERING Sammie Kick!! than the first.
This time, with the WHACK!! echoing about the arena, Carla did go down, toppling to the mat like a felled oak and gazing sightlessly at the rafters.
Sammie, strength giving out, practically toppled over on top her, the brunette rolling herself over onto her back over Crash’s felled frame and hoping that her body weight alone would her enough to secure a pinfall.
The Official dropped down to the canvas and began counting…
ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!
…and called for the bell, confirming the victory for Sinclair!!
The FAWNatics erupted as…
FEEL INVINCIBLE
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gco_SAvHVSM
…returned to the loud speakers, and the Upstart Supreme exhaled a deep, exhausted sigh of relief that her return to the squared circle had not ended in defeat. With a heady groan, she forced her way back up to sitting, patting Carla on her toned tummy on her way up.
“I guess you should stick to your own weight class,” she expressed wearily over one shoulder, “then maybe you would, erm, hmm…”
She paused, shaking her head slowly a few times whilst feeling dizzy. With a sigh, she gave up, instead accepting the Official’s hand in helping her stand back up.
“Could you do me a favour?” she asked the man in black and white, feeling faintly embarrassed.
“Sure,” her confirmed, assisting the brunette in standing steady.
“If she asks,” Sammie nodded down in Carla’s direction before lifting one of her little fists up into the air to salute her supporters. “Tell her I said something witty.”
“Sure,” the Official smiled just a little, holding the Former EurAsia Champion’s other hand up high in victory.
“Cool,” Sinclair sighed in relief. “Appreciate it.”
CARLA CRASH
…Sammie was on her last legs, and everyone knew it.
Not least of all Carla Crash who rammed her right knee up into Sinclair’s fully exposed, trim tummy, gutting the weary young woman and causing her to release a resigned grunt. Her knees would have given out, were the Hollywood Hooligan not forcibly keeping her on her feet by way of a firm, Front Headlock and tight grip of the perfectly petite Brit’s belt. Folded forwards as she was, her own arms swaying idly down towards the canvas, Sammie was left in little position to resist as Crash SLAMMED home a second, swift kneelift to her gut, Carla burying her weaponised joint with authority! Sinclair bucked, quivered and groaned as she was momentarily popped up onto her tip toes before slumping back down to her previous position, all the while at the continued lack of mercy of her opponent’s attentions.
“You aren’t so tough,” Carla dismissively scowled whilst keeping the People’s Princess rooted in place, the brunette in her grasp unable to even try and pull away before Crash buried a third, STIFF kneelift up into a capitulating tummy. A shimmy ran throughout Sinclair’s thighs and, again, her athletic physique attempted to puddle to the canvas, but Crash refused to let her go.
“I thought you were supposed to be hot shit,” the Boulevard Bytch satisfied herself with a fourth and final knee lift, damn near knocking loose whatever starch had managed to remain in Sammie’s punished body. The returning Sinclair had started strong against her bigger opponent but, in the end, it seemed as though Crash was just too much for her to handle.
Adding a sharp torque to her Front Headlock by way of parting gift, a pained ‘erk’ emerging from Sammie’s lips as her slim body twitched, Carla released her opponent and bullied her to standing upright. Left winded and woozy, the Brit stood before her, Crash fully four inches taller and twenty-five pounds heavier than her outmatched adversary for the evening, clutching Sammie by the front collar of her top as the young woman’s noggin bobbed slightly on her slim shoulders.
“The Upstart Supreme?” Carla scoffed with a rueful shake of her head. “REALLY?” she turned her attention to the FAWNatics, pointing the girl of their collective affections in her grasp. “THIS IS WHO YOU ROOT FOR?”
Initially, the FAWNatics responded with a chorus of boos, the People not appreciating the mistreatment of their Princess, especially not upon her return to the squared circle after spending a better part of a year on the injured list. Those heckles, however, swiftly began to transform into something else entirely, a singular chant building in crescendo until it filled the arena, the Loyalist Legionnaires in attendance attempting to will Sammie’s spirits to bounce back.
“WORLD’S! BEST! BRIT! WORLD’S! BEST! BRIT! WORLD’S! BEST! BRIT!”
It didn’t seem to be working, regardless of their best efforts, and Carla shook her head in resigned exasperation before returning her attention back to the swooning Sinclair.
“Should have stuck to your own weight class,” Crash taunted, adjusting her grip and pulling Sammie forwards. “At least then you could have carried on pretending that you were a big fish.” Turning a compliant Sinclair to one side, she slung one of the girl’s limp arms up and across her shoulders before circling the brunette’s submissive hips with her right arm. Package secured, Carla popped her knees for a second before, with surprisingly little effort, she powered the Little Sparrow up into the air and turned her upside down, the Hardcore Hellcat dropping sharply to the side and NAILING!! Sammie into the canvas across the back of her head and shoulders!
CRASH LANDING
www.youtube.com/watch?v=qs98UH-M_fc
The resounding chant of the FAWNatics faltered when Sinclair was taken airborne, and it ended abruptly when the crowd sweetheart was PLANTED against the deck, her smaller body jolted from head to toe before, falling completely limp, she slumped to the mat in a deflated heap.
Shovelling Sammie over onto her back, Carla secured one of the brunette’s athletic stems and pulled her in for a pinfall, confident in the formalities of the Official’s incoming duties.
ONE!
TWO!!
THRE…
Sinclair SHOVED up a shoulder, a shout on her lips as she rolled over onto her side, breathing heavily for a few seconds before she slumped anew, pretty peepers fluttering as some part of her was desperate to come to. The FAWNatics cheered, seizing any semblance of hope that they could latch onto, willing Sammie to recover.
“Really?” Carla pursed her lips, sat beside Sammie and shaking her head. “Like that is it?” she questioned, exhaling deeply before pinching the bridge of her nose. “Fine, your head must be as thick as Summer’s. You want me to put you back on the shelf,” she questioned, pushing herself back up to standing before forcing the Brit to do the same, scraping her remains off the canvas before she was ready to get back up. “I’ll put you back on the shelf.”
Practically dragging Sinclair across the mat, she pulled her on over to the closest set of turnbuckles before shoving her roughly up against them, slinging the brunettes arms up and over the top ropes to keep her swaying form upright. Adjusting her grip, she grabbed her smaller opponent by her firm thighs, cupping the girl’s taunt little booty before boosting the Former EurAsia Champion up to sitting precariously on the top turnbuckle.
Sammie did as she was bid, her breathing returning to shallow as her slim shoulders slumped, Crash free to take her time as she began climbing the turnbuckles herself. When she made it up to the first set of ropes…
…she guffed out a pained grunt as Sinclair continued to pool her resolve and whacked Carla across her rigid, toned gut with a defiant, stiff little forearm smash. Crash scowled in response, preparing to crack Sinclair across the back of her head of her continued temerity, before Sammie connected with a second strike, and then a third, the little Brit building in momentum before the fifth, and hardest connection with Carla’s exposed gut forced the increasingly pained Hollywood Hooligan, with a visible wince, to dismount.
Sinclair didn’t let her retreat, not with the crowd cheering at her back and button nose scrunching with (adorable) Babyfaced Dander, snagging the American by the back on her noggin and solidly connecting with a sweet, European Uppercut that SNAPPED her adversaries head back. With spit escaping out from between her clenched teeth, Crash back peddled several steps whilst cursing loudly enough to be picked up by the hard camera, shaking her head as she…
…was knocked right off her feet by a glorious Dropkick, Sammie having popped herself up to standing on the top turnbuckle and launching herself into the air!!
TOP TURNBUCKLE MISSILE DROPKICK: @9:30
www.youtube.com/watch?v=GuGZM9ltpbQ
The FAWNatics were in full voice now, and Carla’s frustrations were beginning to get the better of her, the Boulevard Bytch slapping the canvas with both palms after being knocked flat onto her back. Even with her torso protesting, Crash forced herself to roll through the pain and barrelled her way back up to her feet, preparing to…
…eat the entirety of a Sammie Kick!!
The FAWNatics erupted for, while Carla had been quick to return to vertical, Sinclair was riding a wave of Babyface Adrenaline, back on her feet just as quickly via FAWN’s Favourite Kip Up and launching into her heart swelling strike!!
Carla’s head snapped back on her shoulders after boot leather connected firmly with the underside of her jaw and, with expression looking glassy, she teetered on the spot but didn’t quite topple over, the Finisher perhaps not possessing the same oomph it usually did.
Seeing her opponent still standing, Sammie back peddled a full step and almost tumbled, still feeling woozy and her fatigued frame threatening to betray her at the last moment. She pooled her resolve before inhaling a deep breath, letting it all back out again with a loud, proud (and not terribly) fearsome Warcry as she surged right back into the breach for one last assault, the People’s Princess connecting with a second, far more BLISTERING Sammie Kick!! than the first.
This time, with the WHACK!! echoing about the arena, Carla did go down, toppling to the mat like a felled oak and gazing sightlessly at the rafters.
Sammie, strength giving out, practically toppled over on top her, the brunette rolling herself over onto her back over Crash’s felled frame and hoping that her body weight alone would her enough to secure a pinfall.
The Official dropped down to the canvas and began counting…
ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!
…and called for the bell, confirming the victory for Sinclair!!
The FAWNatics erupted as…
FEEL INVINCIBLE
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gco_SAvHVSM
…returned to the loud speakers, and the Upstart Supreme exhaled a deep, exhausted sigh of relief that her return to the squared circle had not ended in defeat. With a heady groan, she forced her way back up to sitting, patting Carla on her toned tummy on her way up.
“I guess you should stick to your own weight class,” she expressed wearily over one shoulder, “then maybe you would, erm, hmm…”
She paused, shaking her head slowly a few times whilst feeling dizzy. With a sigh, she gave up, instead accepting the Official’s hand in helping her stand back up.
“Could you do me a favour?” she asked the man in black and white, feeling faintly embarrassed.
“Sure,” her confirmed, assisting the brunette in standing steady.
“If she asks,” Sammie nodded down in Carla’s direction before lifting one of her little fists up into the air to salute her supporters. “Tell her I said something witty.”
“Sure,” the Official smiled just a little, holding the Former EurAsia Champion’s other hand up high in victory.
“Cool,” Sinclair sighed in relief. “Appreciate it.”