Post by hawkeye on Nov 7, 2021 23:40:24 GMT
The captivating groove of Priyanka Chopra and Pitbull’s ‘Exotic’ crackles through the less than digital speakers set throughout the expansive cellar of All Hallows’ Evil’s infamous Madhouse, heralding the imminent arrival of the Subcontinental Siren.
EXOTIC:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=sPhhZg9v9NU
Materializing from behind a curtain at the far end of the basement abode was a set of musclebound men clad in gold loin cloths and sandals. They carried their golden-brown royal upon the conveyance that would have a special part to play in tonight’s contest. For while the palanquin held the former World Champion on her journey to the ring, Singh knew there would be a very different passenger exiting on the purple satin cushions.
Even after being humbled by the California Angel at Mania, the despicable Singh, now without the World Championship, exuded the confidence of an Empress in her prime. The Cellar Dwellers leveled their enmity at the Bollywood Bully, the noise echoing in the closer confines.
AMARA SINGH
The behemoths bore the ornate bed where upon the Bombshell lay, the ‘exotic’ grappler conducted to the ring on the curious conveyance. The copper-skinned beauty writhed seductively on her cushioned platform to the sound of the catchy beat.
Below, the men’s gaze never left the ring, oblivious to the outstretched hands of the fans and the movements of the bronze, ebony-haired grappler above.
The Announcer greeted the spectacular arrival of the Subcontinent’s most acclaimed warrior.
"Tonight’s next match is a Last Woman Standing, Palanquin Poseur match! The winner must place her foe on the palanquin with the loser remaining down for a ten-second count. Our first competitor, hailing from Cawnpore, India. She stands at five feet six inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and thirty-three pounds, she is the Empress… the Bollywood Bombshell… AMARA SINGH!"
Having reached their destination, the men lowered the palanquin until it’s even with the apron. Singh gracefully slid from bedside to ringside. Amara slipped from beneath a sparkling golden robe, revealing the curvy form beneath. Singh dropped a pearly sneer upon the peasants as she moved through the ropes, taking center stage.
Amara was clad in her iconic and lavishly designed gold bra with matching gold and red lacy harem pants, her feet bare. Singh’s raven tresses fell just past her shoulders in wild waves, dark copper skin glowing under the lights. The Bombshell raised a microphone to her full rosy lips.
“Shut your mouths, peasants,” she demanded. The crowd decided otherwise, the ex-champion waiting out most until gracing them again with her husky voice.
“The redheaded stepchild will meet a gruesome fate at my hands and I will become World Champion once more. So it is written and so it will be done.”
Singh waited for the angry rumble to dissipate.
“But tonight my time will be spent ending all doubt the Raven and this shythole she claims holds any sway over me. I’ve proven myself the better woman and now I will do more. I will send Lenore from her Madhouse a broken woman, carried away on my own satins and silks, never to beset me again, here or anywhere else.”
The Golden Empress dropped the mic and moved to her corner, her music fading, leaving only the remaining jeers of the FAWNatics.
The ever-dutiful Craig Long was gamely trying to check the former World Champion’s wrists and ankles when the Announcer called out into the gloom. “And introducing her opponent, representing the Black Court, hailing from Glen Echo Michigan, she stands at five feet seven inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and thirty-one pounds. This is the Fair and Radiant Maiden… LENORE LEMARCHAND!”
Kula Shaker’s cover of ‘Hush’ exploded from the Madhouse speakers as score upon score of hand-made ravens took wing, the Fair & Radiant Maiden’s ‘unkindness’ as large as it had ever been despite the fact that she was no longer the Queen of the Madhouse. Brushing through the curtain a moment later, Lemarchand offered only a curt nod to the crowd before she went straight for the Crimson Throne and its bloodied occupant. Dropping to one knee in front of the grotesque thing, she laid a hand on the heavy strap across Becky’s right wrist and said, “Hold on, Bex. I’m getting you out of--”
“Don’t.” Clayton said grimly. “Stakes were agreed upon. I lost, it’s as simple as that.”
“The f*ck it is.” Lemarchand countered. “Brewster and Mist mugged you, they didn’t BEAT you. I’m not going to let you stay here the rest of the night when--”
“You’ve got other things to worry about.” Becky interrupted. “Singh says she’s going to break you. Prove her wrong. Give me something to cheer when her nasty ass gets carried out of here.”
Lenore took a deep breath, glanced to Singh, then back to Becky. “I don’t like this, Bex.”
“That makes two of us. Kick her ass, Lenore.”
Lemarchand squeezed her friend’s hand, got up and strode back to the center of the stage where she finally raised the Raven sigil to raucous applause that coalesced into a chant of ‘NEV-ER-MORE! NEV-ER-MORE!’ Flashing Singh a cold smile at this show of support, Emily’s Lady in Waiting started down the aisle toward a fateful showdown with the Bollywood Bombshell.
LENORE LEMARCHAND:
For her first non-Chamber AHE appearance in more than five years, Lenore sported strappy bikini bottoms hued in a purplish-black and emblazoned with a faint design that careful inspection revealed as feathers. Her top was halter style, with the color and pattern matching her briefs, while her elbow and kneepads were matte black, the latter still obscured by loose, bell-flared 'leggings' that started just south of mid-thigh and dropped to ankle length. Those leggings were also black and featured a stylized version of Lemarchand’s raven insignia done in stark white. Her look was finished with shiny black boots and purple wrist tape that matched her togs.
Taking a slight detour at the foot of the ramp to run a hand along one side of the palanquin, Lemarchand kept her eyes on the conveyance instead of its most recent occupant as she made her way to and then up the steel steps. Once there she moved to the center of the apron, grabbed the top rope in both hands and vaulted onto the rubber-coated steel. Most nights this was simply a springboard to reach greater heights, tonight however Lenore held the perch in an impressive show of balance made even more so when she raised the Raven sigil overhead. This earned disgust from the Empress and delight from everyone else, just the sort of reaction Lenore had wanted. After a few more heartbeats she jumped off the ropes and landed in the center of the ring where she was immediately joined by the Subcontinental Siren for a bit of brazen pre-bell trash talk.
The Madhouse basement was oddly cool even in the depths of a Florida summer, yet some of the Cellar Dwellers could’ve swore they saw a heat shimmer between the archrivals as the career-long rivals ran each other down.
Voice taut with barely restrained rage, Amara murmured, “That it should be you, of all possible opponents, standing before me… I’ve built championships on a foundation of your humiliation, peasant-bird. Tonight marks the beginning of my golden redemption. And the end of your misbegotten career.”
Lenore let the silence play out for several seconds before she answered the Bombshell’s threat. “Did you think ‘Mania was the lowest you could sink, cham-- excuse me, Empress? Galling as it must have been to submit the World Title away at the biggest show of the year, at least you were able to walk up the ramp under your own power. That’s a mercy I’m going to deny you--”
Singh chested into the Raven and Lenore bumped her right back, the brunettes going nose to nose as they delivered their last round of threats. “You are not woman enough to deny me anything!” Amara promised. “I will take what I want from you whenever I want, HOWEVER I want!” She tacked on a rude shove and would’ve swept Lemarchand into a clench if the Fair & Radiant Maiden hadn’t CRACKED her across the cheek with a single swift slap!
Singh’s moment of flabbergasted ‘how dare you!’ shock allowed Lemarchand a more verbal retort. “This is normally the part where I’d promise to take your gold, but the only bit you’ve got left is strapped across that fat ass and I’ve already got some of that in my trophy collection, so maybe I’ll toss it to the crowRRRGGGHH!”
Amara went low, slammed a shoulder into Lenore’s midriff and drove her to the canvas with an ugly tackle! “Who do you think you are?” the Empress bellowed in the midst of raining down punches on the startled Courtier’s head and chest. “I am a champion, the best of the best wherever I set foot! You’re nothing but the shadow of stronger, better womUUUGGHH!”
Hunkered down behind a hastily-assembled guard, Lenore waited for Amara to sidle up for a better angle, then locked her legs around the former champion’s waist and treated her to a gut-churning squeeze! The Scissors brought Singh’s punches to a halt so Lemarchand grabbed hold of her wrists and used the grips to hoist herself to a seat in the other wrestler’s lap. Stuffing Amara’s hands snug against her chest, Lenore relaxed the Scissors for a moment only to bear down harder than ever, the repeated jostlings and breathy groans from Singh a testament to the Raven’s crushing power.
“You want to talk about shadows of stronger women, Empress?” Lemarchand taunted. “Did you forget how you leaned on Portia to get you to the World Title? She helped you beat me, then you helped her beat me so you wouldn’t have to face me for the AAARRRRHHH!”
Amara reached up, grabbed a double handful of Lenore’s hair and tugged her head back and forth like she meant to tear it off her shoulders. “You’re not worthy!” she barked at the grimacing grappler. “You’ve never been worthy! I am a multi-time champion, you’re nothing but a stepping stoNHHUUURRGGGGHHH!”
Lenore hooked onto the Indian’s biceps and poured even more pressure into the Bodyscissors! Nauseated by this attempted rearranging of her internal organs, Amara abandoned the hair-hold so she could punch, then rake at her opponent’s glossy thighs. “Ruh…release me, peasant.” Singh demanded. “Before I tear you to pieceSOOOWWW HOW DARE YOU!?”
Lenore pulled in close and wrapped her arms around Amara’s biceps for what looked like a Bear Hug, but rather than squeeze the Empress’ torso, she reached low and began to rip and tear at her foe’s harem pants! The gauzy material gave way in a span of heartbeats, thus granting Lenore’s rending claws access to Singh’s last golden cache! Making a point to drag her nails up Singh’s coppery cheeks before she hooked into both leg-holes, the Raven pressed her lips to Amara’s ear and hissed, “Should I share this wealth with the fans? Or hide it away for safe keeping?”
Amara didn’t get a chance to answer before Lemarchand settled on the latter option by yanking up and sawing the material from side to side! The Bollywood Bombshell didn’t know which she hated more, the physical sting as the wedgie drew her bottoms ever higher and deeper, or the mental sting raised by the peasant mob cheering her galling predicament. Did they think they could get away with such disrespect simply because she was no longer their World Champion? She would show them how wrong they were once she’d dispatched this hateful-- Another dry riiiiiip was followed by a disgusted squeal from Singh as Lenore temporarily abandoned the wedgie to tear a wider hole in the seat of her foe’s harem pants.
Arms pinned to her sides by Lemarchand’s makeshift Bear Hug, Amara settled for clawing and pinching at her foe’s stems, though she knew the damage she inflicted paled in comparison to the steady, grinding pressure on her ribs. “Grrrhhh…did you think what happened to your friend the soldier was unpleasant?” Singh hissed. “What I have planned for you is far, far worse, rat-bird. I promise you’ll be BEGGING to take her place on that Throne before I’m finished with OOOOOWWWWWWW!”
Lenore ‘smacked’ Amara’s glutes with both hands, gave ‘em a possessive little squeeze, then resumed the wedgie torture with a firm grip on the Subcontinental Siren’s increasingly strained waistband! “Becky’s tougher than you’ll ever be.” Lemarchand murmured, her words warm and confident in Amara’s ear. “She didn’t once whine after losing the World Title, which is more than I can say about--”
“I DID NOT LOSE!” Singh proclaimed it for all to hear. “IT WAS STOLEN FROM ME! CHRISTIAN AND THAT WASH-OUT CONSPIRED TO HHHHRRRRGGGHHH!”
Much as Lenore hated to give up her grip on the Empress’ briefs, she knew the wedgie wasn’t a match winner at this stage, so she let loose and quickly looped her left arm around the back of the other brunette’s head and drew her down into a tight Front Facelock. It wasn’t quite a Guillotine Choke but it wasn’t for lack of trying, only Amara’s spirited thrashing kept the Courtier from clasping her hands and securing the hold.
Lips set in a grim, determined line as Singh pushed and punched at her trim flanks, Lenore gave the Scissors another long squeeze and asked, “Even if you were robbed, which you weren’t, do you think I’d give a shyt? You want to talk theft, you robbed me of a chance for revenge against Portia and that’s AFTER you helped her humiliate me!”
“VanBuren was better than you, even in the twilight of her career.” an increasingly breathless Amara rasped. “I AM better than her, even at the peak of her prowess. So what hope do you possibly have against me, peasAAAAARRRRRRHHHH!”
Lenore slapped her right hand down on the small of Amara’s back, crooked it into a spade and draaaaaaaaaagged it up between her shoulders! One pass of the Raven’s claw wasn’t nearly enough, so Lemarchand repeated it half a dozen times to add furrow upon furrow to the Empress’ strong back. “I’m using you up tonight, Amara.” Lenore promised between passes. “You won’t have a damned thing left by the time I shovel you onto that palanquOOOWWW BYTCH!”
Singh couldn’t free herself from the Facelock but she could move within it and that’s exactly what she did, the Empress twisting into her adversary so she could sink her teeth into Lenore’s side! To make matters worse, she treated Emily’s Lady in Waiting to a wedgie of her own, Amara tugging and pulling like she meant to draw it over the American’s head.
Painful though these tactics were, Lemarchand still refused to break the Scissors or the Facelock, so Amara gathered her strength and clambered to one knee. “UUUUUGGGGGGHHHH!” Lenore’s legs made her wail, yet this only served as motivation for the former World Champion to regain her footing despite remaining caught in the painful holds!
Showing power that kept Amara in gold for most of the past year, Singh fought through the Scissors and the Choke, Lenore’s brown eyes going wide with shock and horror as the Bollywood Bombshell got both feet beneath her despite the Raven’s chokepoints remaining in place. Amara tried to shake off Lemarchand’s enveloping legs, but the Raven was stuck like glue.
With her own stems giving a weary shimmy, Singh seemed to realize she had to react now. The Empress did, flopping forward, sandwiching Lenore under her as she squashed the ivory-skinned Maiden with a makeshift Splash. Unfortunately for the Indian grappler, it’s also something on a makeshift DDT and both women ended in side-by-side spreadeagles after impact.
Amara’s limp right arm laid atop the softly rolling chest of her foe, both women staring blankly at the rafters. If this was a fight under regular rules, the placement of the fighters technically would have constituted a pin. But of course, what was regular about the Madhouse?
Lenore tossed the limb off out of the distaste, pin or no pin.
The longtime adversaries rolled in opposite directions, simultaneously pushing to their feet. Each surged toward the other but Amara’s a bit quicker on the draw, dropping the Raven to her backbone with a nasty Clothesline. The former Queen of the establishment scrambled to her boot soles despite the glazed look in her eyes then paid for it with a wicked backhand Chop that sent Lemarchand rocketing to the canvas once more.
The back of Lenore’s skull BANGED against the deck with force enough to send the brunette bouncing to a shellshocked seat, head drooping. Singh pushed on with the potentially concussive blows, racing into a Soccer Kick to Lenore’s pert chest, again the back of her braincase banging brutally off the thinly-sheathed plywood of the Madhouse ring. Singh turned toward the nearest lens.
“She has to pay rent to play in this hellhole now, just like everyone else! And everyone knows I’ve got residence in her head for free.”
As Amara drew her soliloquy to the camera to an end, a dazed Lemarchand’s climbed to all fours, shaking out the cobwebs cluttering her attic. Singh moved to a standing, forward-facing straddle of the Raven and slammed her pear-shaped behind into the base of Lenore’s spine. The stubborn Courtier refused to be flattened, at least until Amara repeats the process and Lemarchand’s body collapsed beneath her foe.
The Fair and (currently less than) Radiant Maiden slithered along the rough canvas, knowing she didn’t want to be anywhere in the vicinity but having little ability to remove herself from the dire consequences.
“Where are you going rat-bird?” Amara tittered, ambling forward to make up the few feet lost to the Raven. Position returned, she settled into a crouch.
“I’m going to snap a half-dozen of your vertebrae and give you the honor of riding my chariot into oblivion.”
The Empress posted one of Lemarchand’s alabaster arms over a bent knee then did likewise with the other. She laced her fingers into a cup and swept the joined digits over Lenore’s head, planning to scoop them under the Raven’s chin. But Singh grew careless in her march toward ending the former Madhouse Queen, Lenore dipping her chin to bring her perfect pearlies into play.
She CHOMPED down on Amara’s fingers, Singh immediately shrieking in protest, huskily squealing demands Lenore be disqualified, before realizing DQs were a luxury those entering the Madhouse must live without. She launched from her crouch, turned a lunching Lenore to her back and kneed the Raven in the sternum. It’s enough to open the maw of the Maiden and free her gnarled digits. Rising, she cursed and shook them as if she could send the pain flying with enough of a snap from her wrists. No such luck.
Furious, the Empress stomped toward a rising Lemarchand, the former proprietor of the Queen’s Chambers up to one knee. Singh again proved cavalier and a sweep of Lenore’s left arm behind Amara’s ankles sent the Subcontinental Siren flopping to her back, Amara cut down like wheat to a thresher.
It’s Lenore’s turn to mount Singh, the Raven doing so in a reverse-facing version on the Indian grappler’s chest. Lemarchand raised her taut, ivory behind and lowered the BOOM with a smashing drop of her derriere into the bosom of the Empress, forcing the air from Amara’s lungs with a great burst of an exhale.
But that’s hardly all Lenore had in mind from this vantage. Leaning forward, Lenore continued to punish Amara with her unconventional attacks. She slipped an upturned hand under the waistline of Singh’s partially shredded harem pants and YANKED them toward her, both upward on the Empress but upward toward the rafters, providing a reverse wedgie that’s NSFW but perfectly acceptable in the Madhouse.
Singh screamed in agony as the material cut into her kitty.
“I’m going to break yoAHHHHH STAHHHHP.”
Lenore halted Amara’s demand, turning it into a plea.
“Do you never learn?” the Raven asked, now sawing up and down, Singh’s caterwauling filling the Madhouse crypt. “I don’t countenance threats, particularly those without an ounce of weight behind them.”
After one last wrench that left the crotch of Singh’s gear in whatever letter represents a reverse g-string, Lenore set her claws to the remaining lace tatters on either bronzed leg, shredding and removing what’s left on either side, then tossing them into the air like sparkling streamers.
A smirking Raven rotated her rump atop the mewling Amara, Lenore pushing aside vain attempts by the Empress to get hands to her crotch and pull the material loose from her lips. But the determined Singh slipped upturned hands beneath the Courtier’s glutes and shoveled Lemarchand off her frame.
Alas, it’s only for a moment and it’s quickly evident, Lenore’s perfectly happy for the ride as she lands not over the head of the Bombshell. Instead, her alabaster ass planted firmly on Amara’s golden-brown neck, Singh’s chin wedged into the juncture of Lenore’s thighs.
The Raven stares down at a ‘schoolgirled’ Singh, the Raven’s shins pressing down on Amara’s biceps, the full lower lip of the Indian aquiver with worry, staring up at chuckling Lenore.
“Will you never understand my house is not about wrestling? It is about sheer crystalline will. The will to survive torment and the will to provide it. You will never meet my measure for either.”
Lenore fashioned her fingers into claws, reaches behind her pert, ivory cheeks and blindly GOUGED those talons into Amara’s breasts, kneading and shredding the satiny, copper gurls until Amara was desperately verbalizing her anguish once more.
Jaw clenched as the Raven continued to rake and tear, Singh popped her hips in an effort to buck Lemarchand all the way off, unfortunately all she did was ensure the Courtier’s backside hammered down on her already rasping throat. Irritated by the Bollywood bucking, Lenore abruptly segued from tits to tresses, burying both hands in Amara’s hair so she could stuff Singh’s shocked mug into the center of the trunks.
“Get in there.” Lemarchand growled even as Amara’s squeals reverberated against her center. “And a little louder, if you please.”
Thighs snug against the former World Champion’s jawline, Emily’s Lady in Waiting hooked her fingers over Amara’s golden cups and spilled that bronzed bounty into the chill Madhouse air! Surprised roars from the Cellar Dwellers, not just because of boobs, but because the perpetually haughty Empress was slowly but surely being shredded in a systematically catty fashion that none of them could recall her enduring in previous encounters. With her harem pants in tattered, her trunks wedged on multiple fronts and her top pulled aside, Singh looked far more peasant that powerhouse or rather, more throne than queen.
Lenore knew all this of course and she worked to compound her nemesis’ misery by languidly rooooooooooolling her hips against Amara’s smudgy, furious features. “Don’t even think about tapping out.” Lemarchand sighed as she watched Singh’s fingers scrabble and scrape at the mat. “You’re not going anywhere until I roll your beaten ass onto the palanqu--”
“FUGHYUU!” Amara roared in muffled fury. “YUUWHOANBEED--AAAAIIIIIEEEEEE!”
Biting her bottom lip in a coy smile, Lemarchand took Singh’s nipples between thumb and forefinger and treated them to an agonizingly slow pull-twist combination. “I’m not here to BEAT you, Amara.” she purred. “I’m here to leave you facedown and kissing the dirt like you’ve done to so many peasaHHRRGGGHH!”
Amara kicked her legs up, threaded them beneath Lenore’s armpits and popped her hips to roll the Raven off her perch into an impromptu Sunset Fl-- Lemarchand tumbled backward through the landing and scrambled to boot-leather just as Singh regained her own footing. The brunettes pounced on one another, Amara leading with claws, Lenore with a whip-crack left hand that caromed off the Indian’s chin! Singh swayed in place and her hands dropped to her sides, allowing Lenore the perfect opportunity to hook her right arm across the back of the Empress’ neck. In the same instant she planted her right foot behind Singh’s right heel and leaned down to dip the gold-clad battler backward in what might’ve been a sweet dance maneuver if she hadn’t then shifted her grapplin’ arm into a Front Facelock and swung over and down to land on her back while Amara was PLANTED flat on her face and chest!
NEPENTHEAN DREAM @ 1:40
www.youtube.com/watch?v=PsQTrXyak50
Rolled onto her back by the Nepenthean Dream, Singh would’ve stayed there for a good long while if Lenore hadn’t aggressively bulldozed her over to the edge of the ring and then out onto the palanquin which shivered with its mistress’ arrival. “Count.” Lemarchand said to Craig as she rose to her full height.
Crowding the ropes to ensure the best view, the ref did as bade. “ONE… TWO… THREE… FOUR… FIVE… SIX…”
Amara sat up, realized where she was and scrambled onto the apron like the palanquin was full of spiders! Taking a moment to compose herself, Singh finally realized the full extent of the damage to her attire and she skewered Lenore with dark, hating eyes.
Lemarchand met the Empress’ gaze without so much as blinking. After a moment she said, “Either fix your top or take it the hell off. You look like already lost.”
“You are the only loser in this ring, peasant.” Singh hissed as she fixed not only her top, but her briefs as well. “And I will see to it that you scream that admission at the top of your lungs. You will GRATEFULLY sacrifice every bit of your pride to save your career. And I will allow you to do as such…after an appropriate amount of groveling.”
Lenore took a step back, spread her arms wide to welcome the Bollywood Bombshell into the squared circle. “Big talk from a girl that just finished picking a wedgie out of her ass.”
Amara hissed, dipped through the ropes and went straight for Lemarchand, the Indian Grappler once again leading with her tal--“OOWW!” Singh snatched at her rival’s wrists for half a heartbeat’s worth of handfighting, which was all the time she needed to STAMP her bare heel down on the Courtier’s left foot!
Lenore hopped back or at least tried to, she wasn’t yet out of reach when Amara snatched her by the nape of the neck and reeled her in for a heavy Broadside Kneelift! The force of it bent Lemarchand double, so Singh crooked her fingers into hooks and raaaaaaked the Raven’s back to straighten her up nice and tall! Dipping just enough to loop her right arm around the other brunette’s midsection, Amara bolstered her grip by slipping her left arm across the pits of Lemarchand’s knees. “This is your last taste of the sky, rat-bird.” the Empress promised after she’d muscled Lenore up like she was little better than a bag of garbage. “After tonight you’ll only soar in dreams.”
“Oh, go f*ck yourseFERRGGH!”
Amara went on tiptoe, then dropped to one knee to THUNK the other brunette’s spine across that pitiless bronze post! The Backbreaker jolted Lemarchand to the core, alas she couldn’t tumble away from Singh’s grip because the Subcontinental Siren still had an arm strapped across her midriff. “Why do you hide this trash?” Amara sniffed even in the midst of swatting Lenore’s modest bounty. It’s no less shameful than every other inch of your pitiable body.” Lemarchand groaned and reached for Singh’s chin, then squealed and covered up when the former World Champ yanked her top up!
Singh gave those ivory orbs a sadistic swipe on general principle but rather than focus on the Raven’s rack she bundled the bendy-back’s legs and got to her feet holding Lenore like a babe in arms. “Were you peasants enjoying her disgusting antics?” Amara barked to the Cellar Dwellers as she turned in a wide circle. “Trust me when I say you will NOT enjoy what is to come…until you forsake this winged vermin!” Lemarchand’s flock didn’t much care for this proclamation, especially when the Empress muscled their heroine up even higher and flipped her over just to THAWHUMP Lenore gut-first atop her waiting knee!
BOLLYWOOD DOUBLE FEATURE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=IHbIsbLK6pE
The Raven bounced away from that impaling joint to slop onto all fours, a penitent pose she occupied until Amara grabbed a handful of waistband and pulled hard enough to raise the brunette to mincing verticality. Another Kneelift doubled her over long enough for Singh to snuggle in on her left side, grab that wrist and force it through Lenore’s thighs. Passing the captured wrist off to her right hand, Amara flattened her left hand into a paddle and slapped Lemarchand’s tits half a dozen times before treating each nub to a prolonged twiiiiisssssssssst.
Lenore shrieked, went to cover up and spat something unprintable when Singh slipped her left arm under the Fair & Radiant Maiden’s right bicep and wrenched it backward to complete the Pumphandle. Trap set, she dipped down and muscled / hoisted Lemarchand to chest-level and immediately dropped to one knee to THUMP the other brunette’s increasingly bruised back!
“You’re weak. You’ve always been weak.” Amara slapped Lenore’s mouth with her left hand, then grabbed hold of the American’s hair and hauled her upright. In the same instant she slipped her right arm through Lemarchand’s legs, grabbed a healthy handful of buttocks and scooped her up just to THWHAM her to the deck with a colossal Body Slam.
Turning to her stomach on instinct rather than any conscious thought, Lenore immediately realized the error and started to roll again unfortunately she didn’t even get halfway there before the Empress delivered her heaviest Butt Bomb yet!
“Nuuuuuuuhhhhh….NOOOO!” Lemarchand shouted in breathless terror when Amara caught hold of her biceps and rudely threaded them over the copper planks of her thighs.
“Yes…YES!” Singh chortled as she went to work ripping and tearing at the intricate workings of Lenore’s braid. “It’s time you finally acknowledged me as the one true power in your life, peasant-bird. No more fawning before a Black Queen, now you will BEG before a Golden Empress! And to qualify for such an honor? You must be humbled by a public shaming.”
Hands already curled into spades, Amara reached over Lemarchand’s shoulders and scored her girls from south to north half a dozen times before sinking her claws in full force!
Singh squeezed the pert bosom of the Raven, looking for every bit of revenge possible, drawing howls of anguish from Lemarchand as she initially traded the nearly secured Camel for the opportunity to get more personal with Lenore, humiliating the former Queen of the Madhouse in her own abode.
After a dozen seconds of flexing digits and yelping rat-bird, Amara got back to the job of breaking the Raven, releasing her grip on the bared breasts and cupping her palms under the chin of Lemarchand. With her infamous Clutch deployed, the Bombshell hauled back Lenore’s upper half, wrenching her head and neck until the brunette was staring at the rafters, the pain muffled by a jaw forced clenched by Amara’s specialty.
“We all knew it would end like this,” Singh celebrated, grunting as she leaned back farther and farther, turning Lenore’s spine from a hook to a sickening ‘C’ shape. Amara changed her cupped, laced fingers into a brutal backhand dragon grip, the Subcontinental Siren threatening to snap Lenore’s column and career in a fit of pique over the Courtier’s tawdry attempt to dethrone an Empress, not to mention the loss of her title to an usurping, redheaded stepchild.
All of those disturbing memories could be pushed to the background if she watched a broken Lenore carried limp and lifeless from the house with which her foe remained synonymous.
“This match was your choice,” Amara growled. “You could be tapping your way to safety right now, if not for your fatal mistake. You made me break you completely and I’m so glad you did.
Lenore’s increasingly weak squirming and growingly soft mewls turn to limp defenseless silence in Amara’s grasp, the pain overwhelming her system.
As the woman who’s made a living ending dreams with her various versions of the Camel Clutch, Amara instantly recognized she’s drained the fight from the Raven, leaving her a rag-doll. Singh released her despicable Clutch, Lenore’s wiry body unspooling and ending facedown and motionless, the cellar dwellers providing scattered boos but mostly awed silence as it’s clear, while Amara may have lost the World title, she might still be considered FAWN’s best.
The golden-brown grappler shoveled the Courtier’s flaccid form to her back and stands in a straddle of the unconscious Lemarchand, her Camel having created yet another victim, though this one with more meaning than all the others. Singh raised her arms high and wide in triumph. She brought her right foot up and STOMPED the bare sole into the pit of Lenore’s stomach. There’s a shudder from the brunette’s body but nothing more.
With a sinister grin, Amara dipped and slipped her arms under one side of the midriff of the vanquished Raven. She rolled the deadweight toward the side of the ring to which the palanquin abuts. After such a fight, it’s not an easy task moving the comatose Lenore to her luxurious conveyance, but Singh finally shoved Lenore’s limp body atop the satin bed and pillows.
With an exhausted sigh, a seated Singh watched with delight and demanded Long begin.
“You have to be on your feet, Amara,” the zebra responded.
Fury boils in Singh’s dark eyes. She muttered ‘twerp’ under her breath but pushed to vertical.
“COUNT!”
A cowering Craig moved to the ropes and did as ordered.
“ONE…TWO…THREE…FOUR…” passed without a hint of movement from the Raven.
But at “FIVE” there’s a tremor in Lenore’s limbs and at “SIX” and
“SEVEN” lids opened and the former Queen’s torso shifted. The Flock was energized by the movement and the slack-jawed look on Singh’s flawless features.
“No,” the Bollywood Bully whispered to herself. “can’t be!”
At “EIGHT“, Lemarchand twisted her way to her side and the pain from her spine was reintroduced in agonizing fashion. She reflexively shrieked from the anguish but also rolled off the palanquin and under the ropes to the feet of the stunned Singh. She looked at the surviving Lenore with dismay.
It took more than a moment for Amara to regain her composure. She finally latched onto the Raven’s ankles and pulled the weakly struggling Lemarchand to the middle, where she released her foe’s wilting limbs and moved to a reverse straddling stance of Lenore’s face. The Empress looked down on the wincing Raven.
“Delay the inevitable if you must. But you will pay the price.”
The Indian grappler launched into the air, throwing her legs out in front of her, ready to drop an atomic Butt Bomb to the patrician features of the Courtier. But at the last moment, Lenore rolled from under Singh’s descending backside and the Bombshell’s world exploded as she THUMPED to empty mat, her already tenderized undercarriage taking the brunt of the miss.
Amara yelped in pain, her hands slipping beneath her ass in an attempt to provide some level of relief. A few feet away, Lenore grimaced as she slowly pushed to hands and knees and raised a gaze to the squirming Singh.
“You seem to forget,” Lemarchand offered breathlessly, “while I don’t currently possess the deed, this is my house.”
Forcing her way to vertical, Lenore’s pain-racked face showed the abuse she’s suffered from the Empress. Still, she reached a stance and takes off at a healthy clip to the ropes behind Singh, who’s made it to all fours. Racing in from behind, Lenore flipped forward, snatching Amara’s head on the fly-by and POUNDED the forehead and face of the Empress into the deck with the Raven’s Landing.
RAVEN’S LANDING @ 00:19
www.youtube.com/watch?v=9SqoXOORyrQ
Singh absently flopped to her back, the Empress ending in a shellshocked starfish, staring blankly at the lights above, any insults removed from her lips as they only managed to burble incoherently.
Paying her own price for the Landing, Lenore grimaced through the pain in her vertebrae but never slowed down in crawling to the splayed Singh. The Raven rolled Amara to her chest and mounted the Indian grappler in a Crucifix, capturing one of the Bombshell’s arms within hers while scissoring the opposite. Lenore halves her near grip, attempting to secure the Sleeper that would essentially finish Amara off with a lethal Nepenthe Injection.
Singh squirmed fitfully when Lemarchand caught her right arm in a snug Scissors, then offered a breathy grunt when the other brunette pulled back her left arm at an awkward angle, but she didn’t truly begin to protest until Lenore slipped her right arm under the former World Champion’s chin in search of the Sleeper. “Nuuuhhh..No! NO! GET OFF ME, PEASANNNGGGHHH!”
The Fair & Radiant Maiden caught Amara’s chin in the crook of her elbow and craaaaaaaaaaaaaanked back as hard as she could! “Anything you want to say, Empress?” Lenore huffed as she squeezed Singh’s cheeks between her forearm and bicep. “Maybe an apology to all the OOOOOOOOWWWWW!”
Singh wrenched her head to the side and clamped down on the Courtier’s bicep in a savage effort to make her break the Nepenthe Injection. This proved a partial success as Lenore abandoned the Sleeper after only a few seconds of cruel chewing. But Lemarchand refused to relinquish the Crucifix which meant Amara was defenseless once the Raven wriggled her arm free.
“Release me or suffer, peasant.” the Empress demanded after another round of kicking and straining proved useless. “Don’t make me warn you agRRRHHHH NGH! NGH! NGH! NGH! AAAGGGGGHHHH!”
Lenore plunged a hand into Amara’s hair, pulled her head up and then THUMPED it down at least half a dozen times before treating the Subcontinental Siren to some aggressive face on canvas scrubbing! “What kind of royalty relies on whimpered threats?” Lemarchand asked after she’d disengaged the Crucifix and settled into a heavy seat on Singh’s lower back. “Oh, that’s right. You were never royalty. Just an arrogant bitch who loves to run her mouth.”
“I AM A CHAMPION!” Amara shrieked. “I AM THE FINEST WRESTLER THIS PLACE EV--NO! NO, HOW DARE YOUUUURRRRGGGGHHHH!”
Cacophonous roars from the Cellar Dwellers when Lenore grabbed the Indian grappler’s biceps and tugged them backward so she could drape them across her thighs. Where Amara had gone for her rival’s jugs when their places were reversed, Lemarchand laced her fingers across Singh’s chin and pulled back as hard as she could! “Come on, Empress.” Lenore bobbled the other brunette’s head up and down while jostling her from side to side, both tactics Amara herself used to embarrass foes in her Clutch. “You have to know how to beat your own finisher, you wouldn’t let me humiliate you like--”
“YOU NEVER COULD!” Singh’s bellowed response was a bit muffled because she couldn’t quite open her mouth all the way. “ALL YOU’RE DOING IS ANGERING MEEEEHHRRRGGH!”
Lemarchand slipped two fingers on each hand into the sides of Amara’s mouth and pulled backward, a show of callous, catty fishhooking that transformed Singh’s usually regal countenance into a garish smile! Lenore only kept this up for a few seconds before switching back to the Chinlock grip, as she didn’t want the Bollywood Bombshell trying to bite her way out. Grinding her ivory glutes against Amara’s writhing copper pair, Lenore continued to pull back until Singh was looking not at the lights, but into her own furious gaze. “Your pride or your back.” she murmured to the former champion. “Which will you surrender, Amara?”
“Neither!” Amara hissed. “I’d kiss Portia’s feet before I debase myself for--” Startled relief from Singh when Lemarchand let her head drop without warning. She didn’t think to question the Courtier’s motives until she felt Lenore’s fingers undoing the clasp between her shoulders and-- “PEASANT RAT-BIRD WHORE!” Singh screamed in apoplectic fury as Lemarchand pulled her top away and twirled it overhead before tossing it aside. “I WILL BREAK YOU IN HALF FOR THIS OOOOOOOOOHHHHHH STAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHP!”
Lenore, who’d taken the Indian’s nipples between thumb and forefinger for a merciless pluck ‘n roll, did no such thing. “Stop what, Empress?” Lenore murmured in her rival’s ear. “Tell everyone what you hate so much and maybe I will.”
Amara shook her head ‘no’, tried to slip her arms off Lemarchand’s thighs and settled for clawing them when the Raven continued the tweasing torture unabated.
“Break your back.” Singh moaned over the raucous cheers of those assembled. “I’m going to break your back for this indignity, you peasSMMPPHH!”
Lenore released her grips and cupped both hands over the Bombshell’s mouth and nose, the latter pinched shut between thumb and forefinger! In the same instant she drove her rump into the small of Amara’s back and leaned back on her heels to give Singh a spine-wrenching receipt for months of chiropractic carnage. “Not if I break you first, Amara.” Lemarchand answered, her voice tight with the strain of maintaining the Camel Clutch. “You’re gonna leave this arena with your head down, and it’ll have nothing to do with a strained neck.”
Singh continued to struggle, but with her arms neutralized, her back bent and the HOM Smother cutting off all save the thinnest of air, it wasn’t long before she was sagging in the other brunette’s grip. The slowing resistance didn’t bring any relaxation from Emily’s Lady in Waiting, if anything she bounced a little harder and squeezed a little tighter. Eventually the Bollywood Bombshell’s eyes started to roll and flutter, the oxygen deprivation too strong for fury to overwhelm. Tenacious with her hooks a full ten seconds after Amara went limp, Lenore switched over to a double handful of hair and YANKED up and down like she wanted to snatch her bald!
“AAAH! AAHH! AAHH! AAHH! AAAAAARRRHHHH!” Singh shrieked in abject agony. “GET YOUR CLAWS OUT OF MY HAIR, RAT-BIRGUUUUHHH!”
Lemarchand shifted to her knees, which freed Amara’s arms and allowed the Raven to drive her nemesis’ face into the thinly-sheathed plywood. “Your wish is my command, Empress.” Lenore hooked a Half Nelson and pushed up on both knees so she could turn the Subcontinental Siren onto her back.
“Yuuuuhhhhh…you’re finished.” Amara gasped. “You’ll never show your face after I’ve finished with NOMMMPPPPHHHHHHH!”
The Raven scooted up, swung around and sat down full force, her alabaster backside completely sealing off Singh’s mouth and nose! Amara went wild beneath the ass-valanche, both hands slapping and grabbing at Lemarchand’s cheeks while bridging up on her toes and jerking from one side to ano--“AAAAIIIIIEEEEEEEEE!” Singh’s sobs grew much louder albeit no less muffled when Lenore curled her left hand into a claw and ‘smecked’ it down on the center of her golden trunks! Amara’s butt hit the mat with a damp thud and she tried to cross her legs to defend against more punishment, but Lemarchand gripped the inside of the other brunette’s right knee and forced her leg away.
“No escape from the Madhouse, Empress.” Lenore rasped in the midst of kneading and squeezing Amara’s undercarriage with her counterfeit Portia 911. “I may not be queen, but I still rule this ring… and you.” With the soles of her boots tucked against the sides of Singh’s head, Lemarchand began to sweep her crotch along Amara’s face, forehead, nose, lips and chin, no feature was spared as the Raven began to unleash some old school FAWN humiliation on her archrival.
“STAHP!” Singh bawled into those grinding glutes, her iron-clad arrogance crumbling at the worst possible time. “STAHPDAMMYUUU! PLEESE! NOMOAR! JUSDGEDHOFFAMY FAZEOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!”
Lemarchand thrust her grippin’ hand beneath Amara’s waistband and began to attack in earnest, the ripples and bulges in that distended spandex leading Singh inexorably to a howling cry that was lost in the roar of the crowd and Lenore’s own satisfied moan as the climax arched her back. Letting out an exhausted sigh after she’d extracted her claw, the Courtier climbed off the Empress’ glazed mug so she could start shoveling Amara toward the ropes and the palanquin beyond.
It took longer than she liked and some twitching from Singh made her heart skip a few beats, but the Bollywood Bombshell was still fast asleep when Lemarchand pushed her under the bottom rope. “Count it.” she huffed after climbing the ropes to regain her footing. “Count her down, Craig.”
The ref did as bade, his tally quickly joined by the Cellar Dwellers. “ONE… TWO… THREE… FOUR… FIVE…” Amara turned from her belly to her back and threw an arm across her face. “SIX… SEVEN… EIGHT…” She looked to the ring and reached out, either for Lenore or the ropes, the Raven couldn’t tell. “NINE… TEN!”
“Get her out of here.” Lemarchand ordered the attendants as the bell clanged. “Get her out of my sight.”
They got to it, hoisting the palanquin off the bier and tromping up the aisle while the Announcer called, “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner and the Last Woman Standing… LENORE LEMARCHAND!”
“Last woman standing is right.” she told the camera. “Amara’s looking up at the lights, Baby’s wearing a back-brace and I’m still here. Hope you liked the show, Portia. Hope you didn’t mind my using your move. Figured you wouldn’t, you’re not using it anymore, right?”
Lenore tipped the camera a wink, then turned around and strutted back to the middle of the ring where she grabbed Amara’s discarded top and held it high before segueing into the Raven sigil that was returned by everyone save those few keeping a sharp eye on Singh’s trip to the stage and out of the Madhouse.
And those paying attention to the departing, demolished Empress were rewarded when a hooded female figure raced to the palanquin from stage left and shoved the conveyance hard enough to spill the hot mess of contents, Amara crashing to the floor in a glazed, semiconscious heap.
The stunned muscled men were unable to keep the palanquin from slamming on its side, purple satin beddings sent flying atop the humiliated and spent Singh. Big Red Riding Hood was garbed in a tight red one-piece with pads and boots to match. Like the Bombshell, her skin was a seductive golden-brown.
RED HOOD’S GEAR:
www.bloomingdales.com/shop/product/solid-striped-the-claudia-reversible-asymmetric-one-piece-swimsuit?ID=3838435
The woman peeled Amara from the wreckage and lifted the swaying Singh to unsteady feet then proceeded to punt her in the privates. The Empress reflexively rose to tiptoes from the impact, the throbbing pain from her kitty bringing her back to the awful reality of her situation. Knock-kneed, dark eyes welling, jaw slack, Singh’s frozen in anguish, hands buried between her thighs.
“You actually thought I was done with you?” the Red Hood asked. “No, no, no.”
The Hood stepped to Amara, going side by side in opposite directions, her right hand wrapping tightly around the throat of the bug-eyed Bollywood Bombshell. With frightening ease, she launched what’s left of Amara high into the air and Choke Slammed Singh across the remains of the palanquin bursting the device into splinters from the force of its rider’s impact.
CHOKE SLAM @ 00:27:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=_a7A9rxmOTM
The Hood moves to a straddling stance of the spreadeagled Singh and planted a boot atop the chest of the lifeless Amara, adding a second exclamation point to an infamous evening in the Madhouse for the Empress.
The Cellar Dwellers seemed unsure whether to cheer, but the sight of the Subcontinental Siren splayed among the kindling was too good to ignore and they roared with approval. The Hood bowed and when the woman lifted her head, she threw off the cowl to reveal the flawless features of the long-absent Alexis Suguitan.
ALEXIS SUGUITAN
A level of revenge hers, Alexis lifted her arms high and wide and soaked in the continued praise of the FAWNatics. She called for a microphone and received it, raising it to ruby red lips.
“I’m back, bytches. And if this faux badass thinks I’m done with her, when she has the capacity to think, she and her doctors have another thing coming.”
Alexis dropped the mic on the gulping tummy of the Empress and gave a farewell wave to the Raven, a smirking Lenore having enjoyed the show. The Filipino Phenom spun on her boot atop the bare bosom of the unconscious Singh and strode from the ruins, leaving Amara for an EMT clean-up crew.
EXOTIC:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=sPhhZg9v9NU
Materializing from behind a curtain at the far end of the basement abode was a set of musclebound men clad in gold loin cloths and sandals. They carried their golden-brown royal upon the conveyance that would have a special part to play in tonight’s contest. For while the palanquin held the former World Champion on her journey to the ring, Singh knew there would be a very different passenger exiting on the purple satin cushions.
Even after being humbled by the California Angel at Mania, the despicable Singh, now without the World Championship, exuded the confidence of an Empress in her prime. The Cellar Dwellers leveled their enmity at the Bollywood Bully, the noise echoing in the closer confines.
AMARA SINGH
The behemoths bore the ornate bed where upon the Bombshell lay, the ‘exotic’ grappler conducted to the ring on the curious conveyance. The copper-skinned beauty writhed seductively on her cushioned platform to the sound of the catchy beat.
Below, the men’s gaze never left the ring, oblivious to the outstretched hands of the fans and the movements of the bronze, ebony-haired grappler above.
The Announcer greeted the spectacular arrival of the Subcontinent’s most acclaimed warrior.
"Tonight’s next match is a Last Woman Standing, Palanquin Poseur match! The winner must place her foe on the palanquin with the loser remaining down for a ten-second count. Our first competitor, hailing from Cawnpore, India. She stands at five feet six inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and thirty-three pounds, she is the Empress… the Bollywood Bombshell… AMARA SINGH!"
Having reached their destination, the men lowered the palanquin until it’s even with the apron. Singh gracefully slid from bedside to ringside. Amara slipped from beneath a sparkling golden robe, revealing the curvy form beneath. Singh dropped a pearly sneer upon the peasants as she moved through the ropes, taking center stage.
Amara was clad in her iconic and lavishly designed gold bra with matching gold and red lacy harem pants, her feet bare. Singh’s raven tresses fell just past her shoulders in wild waves, dark copper skin glowing under the lights. The Bombshell raised a microphone to her full rosy lips.
“Shut your mouths, peasants,” she demanded. The crowd decided otherwise, the ex-champion waiting out most until gracing them again with her husky voice.
“The redheaded stepchild will meet a gruesome fate at my hands and I will become World Champion once more. So it is written and so it will be done.”
Singh waited for the angry rumble to dissipate.
“But tonight my time will be spent ending all doubt the Raven and this shythole she claims holds any sway over me. I’ve proven myself the better woman and now I will do more. I will send Lenore from her Madhouse a broken woman, carried away on my own satins and silks, never to beset me again, here or anywhere else.”
The Golden Empress dropped the mic and moved to her corner, her music fading, leaving only the remaining jeers of the FAWNatics.
The ever-dutiful Craig Long was gamely trying to check the former World Champion’s wrists and ankles when the Announcer called out into the gloom. “And introducing her opponent, representing the Black Court, hailing from Glen Echo Michigan, she stands at five feet seven inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and thirty-one pounds. This is the Fair and Radiant Maiden… LENORE LEMARCHAND!”
Kula Shaker’s cover of ‘Hush’ exploded from the Madhouse speakers as score upon score of hand-made ravens took wing, the Fair & Radiant Maiden’s ‘unkindness’ as large as it had ever been despite the fact that she was no longer the Queen of the Madhouse. Brushing through the curtain a moment later, Lemarchand offered only a curt nod to the crowd before she went straight for the Crimson Throne and its bloodied occupant. Dropping to one knee in front of the grotesque thing, she laid a hand on the heavy strap across Becky’s right wrist and said, “Hold on, Bex. I’m getting you out of--”
“Don’t.” Clayton said grimly. “Stakes were agreed upon. I lost, it’s as simple as that.”
“The f*ck it is.” Lemarchand countered. “Brewster and Mist mugged you, they didn’t BEAT you. I’m not going to let you stay here the rest of the night when--”
“You’ve got other things to worry about.” Becky interrupted. “Singh says she’s going to break you. Prove her wrong. Give me something to cheer when her nasty ass gets carried out of here.”
Lenore took a deep breath, glanced to Singh, then back to Becky. “I don’t like this, Bex.”
“That makes two of us. Kick her ass, Lenore.”
Lemarchand squeezed her friend’s hand, got up and strode back to the center of the stage where she finally raised the Raven sigil to raucous applause that coalesced into a chant of ‘NEV-ER-MORE! NEV-ER-MORE!’ Flashing Singh a cold smile at this show of support, Emily’s Lady in Waiting started down the aisle toward a fateful showdown with the Bollywood Bombshell.
LENORE LEMARCHAND:
For her first non-Chamber AHE appearance in more than five years, Lenore sported strappy bikini bottoms hued in a purplish-black and emblazoned with a faint design that careful inspection revealed as feathers. Her top was halter style, with the color and pattern matching her briefs, while her elbow and kneepads were matte black, the latter still obscured by loose, bell-flared 'leggings' that started just south of mid-thigh and dropped to ankle length. Those leggings were also black and featured a stylized version of Lemarchand’s raven insignia done in stark white. Her look was finished with shiny black boots and purple wrist tape that matched her togs.
Taking a slight detour at the foot of the ramp to run a hand along one side of the palanquin, Lemarchand kept her eyes on the conveyance instead of its most recent occupant as she made her way to and then up the steel steps. Once there she moved to the center of the apron, grabbed the top rope in both hands and vaulted onto the rubber-coated steel. Most nights this was simply a springboard to reach greater heights, tonight however Lenore held the perch in an impressive show of balance made even more so when she raised the Raven sigil overhead. This earned disgust from the Empress and delight from everyone else, just the sort of reaction Lenore had wanted. After a few more heartbeats she jumped off the ropes and landed in the center of the ring where she was immediately joined by the Subcontinental Siren for a bit of brazen pre-bell trash talk.
The Madhouse basement was oddly cool even in the depths of a Florida summer, yet some of the Cellar Dwellers could’ve swore they saw a heat shimmer between the archrivals as the career-long rivals ran each other down.
Voice taut with barely restrained rage, Amara murmured, “That it should be you, of all possible opponents, standing before me… I’ve built championships on a foundation of your humiliation, peasant-bird. Tonight marks the beginning of my golden redemption. And the end of your misbegotten career.”
Lenore let the silence play out for several seconds before she answered the Bombshell’s threat. “Did you think ‘Mania was the lowest you could sink, cham-- excuse me, Empress? Galling as it must have been to submit the World Title away at the biggest show of the year, at least you were able to walk up the ramp under your own power. That’s a mercy I’m going to deny you--”
Singh chested into the Raven and Lenore bumped her right back, the brunettes going nose to nose as they delivered their last round of threats. “You are not woman enough to deny me anything!” Amara promised. “I will take what I want from you whenever I want, HOWEVER I want!” She tacked on a rude shove and would’ve swept Lemarchand into a clench if the Fair & Radiant Maiden hadn’t CRACKED her across the cheek with a single swift slap!
Singh’s moment of flabbergasted ‘how dare you!’ shock allowed Lemarchand a more verbal retort. “This is normally the part where I’d promise to take your gold, but the only bit you’ve got left is strapped across that fat ass and I’ve already got some of that in my trophy collection, so maybe I’ll toss it to the crowRRRGGGHH!”
Amara went low, slammed a shoulder into Lenore’s midriff and drove her to the canvas with an ugly tackle! “Who do you think you are?” the Empress bellowed in the midst of raining down punches on the startled Courtier’s head and chest. “I am a champion, the best of the best wherever I set foot! You’re nothing but the shadow of stronger, better womUUUGGHH!”
Hunkered down behind a hastily-assembled guard, Lenore waited for Amara to sidle up for a better angle, then locked her legs around the former champion’s waist and treated her to a gut-churning squeeze! The Scissors brought Singh’s punches to a halt so Lemarchand grabbed hold of her wrists and used the grips to hoist herself to a seat in the other wrestler’s lap. Stuffing Amara’s hands snug against her chest, Lenore relaxed the Scissors for a moment only to bear down harder than ever, the repeated jostlings and breathy groans from Singh a testament to the Raven’s crushing power.
“You want to talk about shadows of stronger women, Empress?” Lemarchand taunted. “Did you forget how you leaned on Portia to get you to the World Title? She helped you beat me, then you helped her beat me so you wouldn’t have to face me for the AAARRRRHHH!”
Amara reached up, grabbed a double handful of Lenore’s hair and tugged her head back and forth like she meant to tear it off her shoulders. “You’re not worthy!” she barked at the grimacing grappler. “You’ve never been worthy! I am a multi-time champion, you’re nothing but a stepping stoNHHUUURRGGGGHHH!”
Lenore hooked onto the Indian’s biceps and poured even more pressure into the Bodyscissors! Nauseated by this attempted rearranging of her internal organs, Amara abandoned the hair-hold so she could punch, then rake at her opponent’s glossy thighs. “Ruh…release me, peasant.” Singh demanded. “Before I tear you to pieceSOOOWWW HOW DARE YOU!?”
Lenore pulled in close and wrapped her arms around Amara’s biceps for what looked like a Bear Hug, but rather than squeeze the Empress’ torso, she reached low and began to rip and tear at her foe’s harem pants! The gauzy material gave way in a span of heartbeats, thus granting Lenore’s rending claws access to Singh’s last golden cache! Making a point to drag her nails up Singh’s coppery cheeks before she hooked into both leg-holes, the Raven pressed her lips to Amara’s ear and hissed, “Should I share this wealth with the fans? Or hide it away for safe keeping?”
Amara didn’t get a chance to answer before Lemarchand settled on the latter option by yanking up and sawing the material from side to side! The Bollywood Bombshell didn’t know which she hated more, the physical sting as the wedgie drew her bottoms ever higher and deeper, or the mental sting raised by the peasant mob cheering her galling predicament. Did they think they could get away with such disrespect simply because she was no longer their World Champion? She would show them how wrong they were once she’d dispatched this hateful-- Another dry riiiiiip was followed by a disgusted squeal from Singh as Lenore temporarily abandoned the wedgie to tear a wider hole in the seat of her foe’s harem pants.
Arms pinned to her sides by Lemarchand’s makeshift Bear Hug, Amara settled for clawing and pinching at her foe’s stems, though she knew the damage she inflicted paled in comparison to the steady, grinding pressure on her ribs. “Grrrhhh…did you think what happened to your friend the soldier was unpleasant?” Singh hissed. “What I have planned for you is far, far worse, rat-bird. I promise you’ll be BEGGING to take her place on that Throne before I’m finished with OOOOOWWWWWWW!”
Lenore ‘smacked’ Amara’s glutes with both hands, gave ‘em a possessive little squeeze, then resumed the wedgie torture with a firm grip on the Subcontinental Siren’s increasingly strained waistband! “Becky’s tougher than you’ll ever be.” Lemarchand murmured, her words warm and confident in Amara’s ear. “She didn’t once whine after losing the World Title, which is more than I can say about--”
“I DID NOT LOSE!” Singh proclaimed it for all to hear. “IT WAS STOLEN FROM ME! CHRISTIAN AND THAT WASH-OUT CONSPIRED TO HHHHRRRRGGGHHH!”
Much as Lenore hated to give up her grip on the Empress’ briefs, she knew the wedgie wasn’t a match winner at this stage, so she let loose and quickly looped her left arm around the back of the other brunette’s head and drew her down into a tight Front Facelock. It wasn’t quite a Guillotine Choke but it wasn’t for lack of trying, only Amara’s spirited thrashing kept the Courtier from clasping her hands and securing the hold.
Lips set in a grim, determined line as Singh pushed and punched at her trim flanks, Lenore gave the Scissors another long squeeze and asked, “Even if you were robbed, which you weren’t, do you think I’d give a shyt? You want to talk theft, you robbed me of a chance for revenge against Portia and that’s AFTER you helped her humiliate me!”
“VanBuren was better than you, even in the twilight of her career.” an increasingly breathless Amara rasped. “I AM better than her, even at the peak of her prowess. So what hope do you possibly have against me, peasAAAAARRRRRRHHHH!”
Lenore slapped her right hand down on the small of Amara’s back, crooked it into a spade and draaaaaaaaaagged it up between her shoulders! One pass of the Raven’s claw wasn’t nearly enough, so Lemarchand repeated it half a dozen times to add furrow upon furrow to the Empress’ strong back. “I’m using you up tonight, Amara.” Lenore promised between passes. “You won’t have a damned thing left by the time I shovel you onto that palanquOOOWWW BYTCH!”
Singh couldn’t free herself from the Facelock but she could move within it and that’s exactly what she did, the Empress twisting into her adversary so she could sink her teeth into Lenore’s side! To make matters worse, she treated Emily’s Lady in Waiting to a wedgie of her own, Amara tugging and pulling like she meant to draw it over the American’s head.
Painful though these tactics were, Lemarchand still refused to break the Scissors or the Facelock, so Amara gathered her strength and clambered to one knee. “UUUUUGGGGGGHHHH!” Lenore’s legs made her wail, yet this only served as motivation for the former World Champion to regain her footing despite remaining caught in the painful holds!
Showing power that kept Amara in gold for most of the past year, Singh fought through the Scissors and the Choke, Lenore’s brown eyes going wide with shock and horror as the Bollywood Bombshell got both feet beneath her despite the Raven’s chokepoints remaining in place. Amara tried to shake off Lemarchand’s enveloping legs, but the Raven was stuck like glue.
With her own stems giving a weary shimmy, Singh seemed to realize she had to react now. The Empress did, flopping forward, sandwiching Lenore under her as she squashed the ivory-skinned Maiden with a makeshift Splash. Unfortunately for the Indian grappler, it’s also something on a makeshift DDT and both women ended in side-by-side spreadeagles after impact.
Amara’s limp right arm laid atop the softly rolling chest of her foe, both women staring blankly at the rafters. If this was a fight under regular rules, the placement of the fighters technically would have constituted a pin. But of course, what was regular about the Madhouse?
Lenore tossed the limb off out of the distaste, pin or no pin.
The longtime adversaries rolled in opposite directions, simultaneously pushing to their feet. Each surged toward the other but Amara’s a bit quicker on the draw, dropping the Raven to her backbone with a nasty Clothesline. The former Queen of the establishment scrambled to her boot soles despite the glazed look in her eyes then paid for it with a wicked backhand Chop that sent Lemarchand rocketing to the canvas once more.
The back of Lenore’s skull BANGED against the deck with force enough to send the brunette bouncing to a shellshocked seat, head drooping. Singh pushed on with the potentially concussive blows, racing into a Soccer Kick to Lenore’s pert chest, again the back of her braincase banging brutally off the thinly-sheathed plywood of the Madhouse ring. Singh turned toward the nearest lens.
“She has to pay rent to play in this hellhole now, just like everyone else! And everyone knows I’ve got residence in her head for free.”
As Amara drew her soliloquy to the camera to an end, a dazed Lemarchand’s climbed to all fours, shaking out the cobwebs cluttering her attic. Singh moved to a standing, forward-facing straddle of the Raven and slammed her pear-shaped behind into the base of Lenore’s spine. The stubborn Courtier refused to be flattened, at least until Amara repeats the process and Lemarchand’s body collapsed beneath her foe.
The Fair and (currently less than) Radiant Maiden slithered along the rough canvas, knowing she didn’t want to be anywhere in the vicinity but having little ability to remove herself from the dire consequences.
“Where are you going rat-bird?” Amara tittered, ambling forward to make up the few feet lost to the Raven. Position returned, she settled into a crouch.
“I’m going to snap a half-dozen of your vertebrae and give you the honor of riding my chariot into oblivion.”
The Empress posted one of Lemarchand’s alabaster arms over a bent knee then did likewise with the other. She laced her fingers into a cup and swept the joined digits over Lenore’s head, planning to scoop them under the Raven’s chin. But Singh grew careless in her march toward ending the former Madhouse Queen, Lenore dipping her chin to bring her perfect pearlies into play.
She CHOMPED down on Amara’s fingers, Singh immediately shrieking in protest, huskily squealing demands Lenore be disqualified, before realizing DQs were a luxury those entering the Madhouse must live without. She launched from her crouch, turned a lunching Lenore to her back and kneed the Raven in the sternum. It’s enough to open the maw of the Maiden and free her gnarled digits. Rising, she cursed and shook them as if she could send the pain flying with enough of a snap from her wrists. No such luck.
Furious, the Empress stomped toward a rising Lemarchand, the former proprietor of the Queen’s Chambers up to one knee. Singh again proved cavalier and a sweep of Lenore’s left arm behind Amara’s ankles sent the Subcontinental Siren flopping to her back, Amara cut down like wheat to a thresher.
It’s Lenore’s turn to mount Singh, the Raven doing so in a reverse-facing version on the Indian grappler’s chest. Lemarchand raised her taut, ivory behind and lowered the BOOM with a smashing drop of her derriere into the bosom of the Empress, forcing the air from Amara’s lungs with a great burst of an exhale.
But that’s hardly all Lenore had in mind from this vantage. Leaning forward, Lenore continued to punish Amara with her unconventional attacks. She slipped an upturned hand under the waistline of Singh’s partially shredded harem pants and YANKED them toward her, both upward on the Empress but upward toward the rafters, providing a reverse wedgie that’s NSFW but perfectly acceptable in the Madhouse.
Singh screamed in agony as the material cut into her kitty.
“I’m going to break yoAHHHHH STAHHHHP.”
Lenore halted Amara’s demand, turning it into a plea.
“Do you never learn?” the Raven asked, now sawing up and down, Singh’s caterwauling filling the Madhouse crypt. “I don’t countenance threats, particularly those without an ounce of weight behind them.”
After one last wrench that left the crotch of Singh’s gear in whatever letter represents a reverse g-string, Lenore set her claws to the remaining lace tatters on either bronzed leg, shredding and removing what’s left on either side, then tossing them into the air like sparkling streamers.
A smirking Raven rotated her rump atop the mewling Amara, Lenore pushing aside vain attempts by the Empress to get hands to her crotch and pull the material loose from her lips. But the determined Singh slipped upturned hands beneath the Courtier’s glutes and shoveled Lemarchand off her frame.
Alas, it’s only for a moment and it’s quickly evident, Lenore’s perfectly happy for the ride as she lands not over the head of the Bombshell. Instead, her alabaster ass planted firmly on Amara’s golden-brown neck, Singh’s chin wedged into the juncture of Lenore’s thighs.
The Raven stares down at a ‘schoolgirled’ Singh, the Raven’s shins pressing down on Amara’s biceps, the full lower lip of the Indian aquiver with worry, staring up at chuckling Lenore.
“Will you never understand my house is not about wrestling? It is about sheer crystalline will. The will to survive torment and the will to provide it. You will never meet my measure for either.”
Lenore fashioned her fingers into claws, reaches behind her pert, ivory cheeks and blindly GOUGED those talons into Amara’s breasts, kneading and shredding the satiny, copper gurls until Amara was desperately verbalizing her anguish once more.
Jaw clenched as the Raven continued to rake and tear, Singh popped her hips in an effort to buck Lemarchand all the way off, unfortunately all she did was ensure the Courtier’s backside hammered down on her already rasping throat. Irritated by the Bollywood bucking, Lenore abruptly segued from tits to tresses, burying both hands in Amara’s hair so she could stuff Singh’s shocked mug into the center of the trunks.
“Get in there.” Lemarchand growled even as Amara’s squeals reverberated against her center. “And a little louder, if you please.”
Thighs snug against the former World Champion’s jawline, Emily’s Lady in Waiting hooked her fingers over Amara’s golden cups and spilled that bronzed bounty into the chill Madhouse air! Surprised roars from the Cellar Dwellers, not just because of boobs, but because the perpetually haughty Empress was slowly but surely being shredded in a systematically catty fashion that none of them could recall her enduring in previous encounters. With her harem pants in tattered, her trunks wedged on multiple fronts and her top pulled aside, Singh looked far more peasant that powerhouse or rather, more throne than queen.
Lenore knew all this of course and she worked to compound her nemesis’ misery by languidly rooooooooooolling her hips against Amara’s smudgy, furious features. “Don’t even think about tapping out.” Lemarchand sighed as she watched Singh’s fingers scrabble and scrape at the mat. “You’re not going anywhere until I roll your beaten ass onto the palanqu--”
“FUGHYUU!” Amara roared in muffled fury. “YUUWHOANBEED--AAAAIIIIIEEEEEE!”
Biting her bottom lip in a coy smile, Lemarchand took Singh’s nipples between thumb and forefinger and treated them to an agonizingly slow pull-twist combination. “I’m not here to BEAT you, Amara.” she purred. “I’m here to leave you facedown and kissing the dirt like you’ve done to so many peasaHHRRGGGHH!”
Amara kicked her legs up, threaded them beneath Lenore’s armpits and popped her hips to roll the Raven off her perch into an impromptu Sunset Fl-- Lemarchand tumbled backward through the landing and scrambled to boot-leather just as Singh regained her own footing. The brunettes pounced on one another, Amara leading with claws, Lenore with a whip-crack left hand that caromed off the Indian’s chin! Singh swayed in place and her hands dropped to her sides, allowing Lenore the perfect opportunity to hook her right arm across the back of the Empress’ neck. In the same instant she planted her right foot behind Singh’s right heel and leaned down to dip the gold-clad battler backward in what might’ve been a sweet dance maneuver if she hadn’t then shifted her grapplin’ arm into a Front Facelock and swung over and down to land on her back while Amara was PLANTED flat on her face and chest!
NEPENTHEAN DREAM @ 1:40
www.youtube.com/watch?v=PsQTrXyak50
Rolled onto her back by the Nepenthean Dream, Singh would’ve stayed there for a good long while if Lenore hadn’t aggressively bulldozed her over to the edge of the ring and then out onto the palanquin which shivered with its mistress’ arrival. “Count.” Lemarchand said to Craig as she rose to her full height.
Crowding the ropes to ensure the best view, the ref did as bade. “ONE… TWO… THREE… FOUR… FIVE… SIX…”
Amara sat up, realized where she was and scrambled onto the apron like the palanquin was full of spiders! Taking a moment to compose herself, Singh finally realized the full extent of the damage to her attire and she skewered Lenore with dark, hating eyes.
Lemarchand met the Empress’ gaze without so much as blinking. After a moment she said, “Either fix your top or take it the hell off. You look like already lost.”
“You are the only loser in this ring, peasant.” Singh hissed as she fixed not only her top, but her briefs as well. “And I will see to it that you scream that admission at the top of your lungs. You will GRATEFULLY sacrifice every bit of your pride to save your career. And I will allow you to do as such…after an appropriate amount of groveling.”
Lenore took a step back, spread her arms wide to welcome the Bollywood Bombshell into the squared circle. “Big talk from a girl that just finished picking a wedgie out of her ass.”
Amara hissed, dipped through the ropes and went straight for Lemarchand, the Indian Grappler once again leading with her tal--“OOWW!” Singh snatched at her rival’s wrists for half a heartbeat’s worth of handfighting, which was all the time she needed to STAMP her bare heel down on the Courtier’s left foot!
Lenore hopped back or at least tried to, she wasn’t yet out of reach when Amara snatched her by the nape of the neck and reeled her in for a heavy Broadside Kneelift! The force of it bent Lemarchand double, so Singh crooked her fingers into hooks and raaaaaaked the Raven’s back to straighten her up nice and tall! Dipping just enough to loop her right arm around the other brunette’s midsection, Amara bolstered her grip by slipping her left arm across the pits of Lemarchand’s knees. “This is your last taste of the sky, rat-bird.” the Empress promised after she’d muscled Lenore up like she was little better than a bag of garbage. “After tonight you’ll only soar in dreams.”
“Oh, go f*ck yourseFERRGGH!”
Amara went on tiptoe, then dropped to one knee to THUNK the other brunette’s spine across that pitiless bronze post! The Backbreaker jolted Lemarchand to the core, alas she couldn’t tumble away from Singh’s grip because the Subcontinental Siren still had an arm strapped across her midriff. “Why do you hide this trash?” Amara sniffed even in the midst of swatting Lenore’s modest bounty. It’s no less shameful than every other inch of your pitiable body.” Lemarchand groaned and reached for Singh’s chin, then squealed and covered up when the former World Champ yanked her top up!
Singh gave those ivory orbs a sadistic swipe on general principle but rather than focus on the Raven’s rack she bundled the bendy-back’s legs and got to her feet holding Lenore like a babe in arms. “Were you peasants enjoying her disgusting antics?” Amara barked to the Cellar Dwellers as she turned in a wide circle. “Trust me when I say you will NOT enjoy what is to come…until you forsake this winged vermin!” Lemarchand’s flock didn’t much care for this proclamation, especially when the Empress muscled their heroine up even higher and flipped her over just to THAWHUMP Lenore gut-first atop her waiting knee!
BOLLYWOOD DOUBLE FEATURE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=IHbIsbLK6pE
The Raven bounced away from that impaling joint to slop onto all fours, a penitent pose she occupied until Amara grabbed a handful of waistband and pulled hard enough to raise the brunette to mincing verticality. Another Kneelift doubled her over long enough for Singh to snuggle in on her left side, grab that wrist and force it through Lenore’s thighs. Passing the captured wrist off to her right hand, Amara flattened her left hand into a paddle and slapped Lemarchand’s tits half a dozen times before treating each nub to a prolonged twiiiiisssssssssst.
Lenore shrieked, went to cover up and spat something unprintable when Singh slipped her left arm under the Fair & Radiant Maiden’s right bicep and wrenched it backward to complete the Pumphandle. Trap set, she dipped down and muscled / hoisted Lemarchand to chest-level and immediately dropped to one knee to THUMP the other brunette’s increasingly bruised back!
“You’re weak. You’ve always been weak.” Amara slapped Lenore’s mouth with her left hand, then grabbed hold of the American’s hair and hauled her upright. In the same instant she slipped her right arm through Lemarchand’s legs, grabbed a healthy handful of buttocks and scooped her up just to THWHAM her to the deck with a colossal Body Slam.
Turning to her stomach on instinct rather than any conscious thought, Lenore immediately realized the error and started to roll again unfortunately she didn’t even get halfway there before the Empress delivered her heaviest Butt Bomb yet!
“Nuuuuuuuhhhhh….NOOOO!” Lemarchand shouted in breathless terror when Amara caught hold of her biceps and rudely threaded them over the copper planks of her thighs.
“Yes…YES!” Singh chortled as she went to work ripping and tearing at the intricate workings of Lenore’s braid. “It’s time you finally acknowledged me as the one true power in your life, peasant-bird. No more fawning before a Black Queen, now you will BEG before a Golden Empress! And to qualify for such an honor? You must be humbled by a public shaming.”
Hands already curled into spades, Amara reached over Lemarchand’s shoulders and scored her girls from south to north half a dozen times before sinking her claws in full force!
Singh squeezed the pert bosom of the Raven, looking for every bit of revenge possible, drawing howls of anguish from Lemarchand as she initially traded the nearly secured Camel for the opportunity to get more personal with Lenore, humiliating the former Queen of the Madhouse in her own abode.
After a dozen seconds of flexing digits and yelping rat-bird, Amara got back to the job of breaking the Raven, releasing her grip on the bared breasts and cupping her palms under the chin of Lemarchand. With her infamous Clutch deployed, the Bombshell hauled back Lenore’s upper half, wrenching her head and neck until the brunette was staring at the rafters, the pain muffled by a jaw forced clenched by Amara’s specialty.
“We all knew it would end like this,” Singh celebrated, grunting as she leaned back farther and farther, turning Lenore’s spine from a hook to a sickening ‘C’ shape. Amara changed her cupped, laced fingers into a brutal backhand dragon grip, the Subcontinental Siren threatening to snap Lenore’s column and career in a fit of pique over the Courtier’s tawdry attempt to dethrone an Empress, not to mention the loss of her title to an usurping, redheaded stepchild.
All of those disturbing memories could be pushed to the background if she watched a broken Lenore carried limp and lifeless from the house with which her foe remained synonymous.
“This match was your choice,” Amara growled. “You could be tapping your way to safety right now, if not for your fatal mistake. You made me break you completely and I’m so glad you did.
Lenore’s increasingly weak squirming and growingly soft mewls turn to limp defenseless silence in Amara’s grasp, the pain overwhelming her system.
As the woman who’s made a living ending dreams with her various versions of the Camel Clutch, Amara instantly recognized she’s drained the fight from the Raven, leaving her a rag-doll. Singh released her despicable Clutch, Lenore’s wiry body unspooling and ending facedown and motionless, the cellar dwellers providing scattered boos but mostly awed silence as it’s clear, while Amara may have lost the World title, she might still be considered FAWN’s best.
The golden-brown grappler shoveled the Courtier’s flaccid form to her back and stands in a straddle of the unconscious Lemarchand, her Camel having created yet another victim, though this one with more meaning than all the others. Singh raised her arms high and wide in triumph. She brought her right foot up and STOMPED the bare sole into the pit of Lenore’s stomach. There’s a shudder from the brunette’s body but nothing more.
With a sinister grin, Amara dipped and slipped her arms under one side of the midriff of the vanquished Raven. She rolled the deadweight toward the side of the ring to which the palanquin abuts. After such a fight, it’s not an easy task moving the comatose Lenore to her luxurious conveyance, but Singh finally shoved Lenore’s limp body atop the satin bed and pillows.
With an exhausted sigh, a seated Singh watched with delight and demanded Long begin.
“You have to be on your feet, Amara,” the zebra responded.
Fury boils in Singh’s dark eyes. She muttered ‘twerp’ under her breath but pushed to vertical.
“COUNT!”
A cowering Craig moved to the ropes and did as ordered.
“ONE…TWO…THREE…FOUR…” passed without a hint of movement from the Raven.
But at “FIVE” there’s a tremor in Lenore’s limbs and at “SIX” and
“SEVEN” lids opened and the former Queen’s torso shifted. The Flock was energized by the movement and the slack-jawed look on Singh’s flawless features.
“No,” the Bollywood Bully whispered to herself. “can’t be!”
At “EIGHT“, Lemarchand twisted her way to her side and the pain from her spine was reintroduced in agonizing fashion. She reflexively shrieked from the anguish but also rolled off the palanquin and under the ropes to the feet of the stunned Singh. She looked at the surviving Lenore with dismay.
It took more than a moment for Amara to regain her composure. She finally latched onto the Raven’s ankles and pulled the weakly struggling Lemarchand to the middle, where she released her foe’s wilting limbs and moved to a reverse straddling stance of Lenore’s face. The Empress looked down on the wincing Raven.
“Delay the inevitable if you must. But you will pay the price.”
The Indian grappler launched into the air, throwing her legs out in front of her, ready to drop an atomic Butt Bomb to the patrician features of the Courtier. But at the last moment, Lenore rolled from under Singh’s descending backside and the Bombshell’s world exploded as she THUMPED to empty mat, her already tenderized undercarriage taking the brunt of the miss.
Amara yelped in pain, her hands slipping beneath her ass in an attempt to provide some level of relief. A few feet away, Lenore grimaced as she slowly pushed to hands and knees and raised a gaze to the squirming Singh.
“You seem to forget,” Lemarchand offered breathlessly, “while I don’t currently possess the deed, this is my house.”
Forcing her way to vertical, Lenore’s pain-racked face showed the abuse she’s suffered from the Empress. Still, she reached a stance and takes off at a healthy clip to the ropes behind Singh, who’s made it to all fours. Racing in from behind, Lenore flipped forward, snatching Amara’s head on the fly-by and POUNDED the forehead and face of the Empress into the deck with the Raven’s Landing.
RAVEN’S LANDING @ 00:19
www.youtube.com/watch?v=9SqoXOORyrQ
Singh absently flopped to her back, the Empress ending in a shellshocked starfish, staring blankly at the lights above, any insults removed from her lips as they only managed to burble incoherently.
Paying her own price for the Landing, Lenore grimaced through the pain in her vertebrae but never slowed down in crawling to the splayed Singh. The Raven rolled Amara to her chest and mounted the Indian grappler in a Crucifix, capturing one of the Bombshell’s arms within hers while scissoring the opposite. Lenore halves her near grip, attempting to secure the Sleeper that would essentially finish Amara off with a lethal Nepenthe Injection.
Singh squirmed fitfully when Lemarchand caught her right arm in a snug Scissors, then offered a breathy grunt when the other brunette pulled back her left arm at an awkward angle, but she didn’t truly begin to protest until Lenore slipped her right arm under the former World Champion’s chin in search of the Sleeper. “Nuuuhhh..No! NO! GET OFF ME, PEASANNNGGGHHH!”
The Fair & Radiant Maiden caught Amara’s chin in the crook of her elbow and craaaaaaaaaaaaaanked back as hard as she could! “Anything you want to say, Empress?” Lenore huffed as she squeezed Singh’s cheeks between her forearm and bicep. “Maybe an apology to all the OOOOOOOOWWWWW!”
Singh wrenched her head to the side and clamped down on the Courtier’s bicep in a savage effort to make her break the Nepenthe Injection. This proved a partial success as Lenore abandoned the Sleeper after only a few seconds of cruel chewing. But Lemarchand refused to relinquish the Crucifix which meant Amara was defenseless once the Raven wriggled her arm free.
“Release me or suffer, peasant.” the Empress demanded after another round of kicking and straining proved useless. “Don’t make me warn you agRRRHHHH NGH! NGH! NGH! NGH! AAAGGGGGHHHH!”
Lenore plunged a hand into Amara’s hair, pulled her head up and then THUMPED it down at least half a dozen times before treating the Subcontinental Siren to some aggressive face on canvas scrubbing! “What kind of royalty relies on whimpered threats?” Lemarchand asked after she’d disengaged the Crucifix and settled into a heavy seat on Singh’s lower back. “Oh, that’s right. You were never royalty. Just an arrogant bitch who loves to run her mouth.”
“I AM A CHAMPION!” Amara shrieked. “I AM THE FINEST WRESTLER THIS PLACE EV--NO! NO, HOW DARE YOUUUURRRRGGGGHHHH!”
Cacophonous roars from the Cellar Dwellers when Lenore grabbed the Indian grappler’s biceps and tugged them backward so she could drape them across her thighs. Where Amara had gone for her rival’s jugs when their places were reversed, Lemarchand laced her fingers across Singh’s chin and pulled back as hard as she could! “Come on, Empress.” Lenore bobbled the other brunette’s head up and down while jostling her from side to side, both tactics Amara herself used to embarrass foes in her Clutch. “You have to know how to beat your own finisher, you wouldn’t let me humiliate you like--”
“YOU NEVER COULD!” Singh’s bellowed response was a bit muffled because she couldn’t quite open her mouth all the way. “ALL YOU’RE DOING IS ANGERING MEEEEHHRRRGGH!”
Lemarchand slipped two fingers on each hand into the sides of Amara’s mouth and pulled backward, a show of callous, catty fishhooking that transformed Singh’s usually regal countenance into a garish smile! Lenore only kept this up for a few seconds before switching back to the Chinlock grip, as she didn’t want the Bollywood Bombshell trying to bite her way out. Grinding her ivory glutes against Amara’s writhing copper pair, Lenore continued to pull back until Singh was looking not at the lights, but into her own furious gaze. “Your pride or your back.” she murmured to the former champion. “Which will you surrender, Amara?”
“Neither!” Amara hissed. “I’d kiss Portia’s feet before I debase myself for--” Startled relief from Singh when Lemarchand let her head drop without warning. She didn’t think to question the Courtier’s motives until she felt Lenore’s fingers undoing the clasp between her shoulders and-- “PEASANT RAT-BIRD WHORE!” Singh screamed in apoplectic fury as Lemarchand pulled her top away and twirled it overhead before tossing it aside. “I WILL BREAK YOU IN HALF FOR THIS OOOOOOOOOHHHHHH STAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHP!”
Lenore, who’d taken the Indian’s nipples between thumb and forefinger for a merciless pluck ‘n roll, did no such thing. “Stop what, Empress?” Lenore murmured in her rival’s ear. “Tell everyone what you hate so much and maybe I will.”
Amara shook her head ‘no’, tried to slip her arms off Lemarchand’s thighs and settled for clawing them when the Raven continued the tweasing torture unabated.
“Break your back.” Singh moaned over the raucous cheers of those assembled. “I’m going to break your back for this indignity, you peasSMMPPHH!”
Lenore released her grips and cupped both hands over the Bombshell’s mouth and nose, the latter pinched shut between thumb and forefinger! In the same instant she drove her rump into the small of Amara’s back and leaned back on her heels to give Singh a spine-wrenching receipt for months of chiropractic carnage. “Not if I break you first, Amara.” Lemarchand answered, her voice tight with the strain of maintaining the Camel Clutch. “You’re gonna leave this arena with your head down, and it’ll have nothing to do with a strained neck.”
Singh continued to struggle, but with her arms neutralized, her back bent and the HOM Smother cutting off all save the thinnest of air, it wasn’t long before she was sagging in the other brunette’s grip. The slowing resistance didn’t bring any relaxation from Emily’s Lady in Waiting, if anything she bounced a little harder and squeezed a little tighter. Eventually the Bollywood Bombshell’s eyes started to roll and flutter, the oxygen deprivation too strong for fury to overwhelm. Tenacious with her hooks a full ten seconds after Amara went limp, Lenore switched over to a double handful of hair and YANKED up and down like she wanted to snatch her bald!
“AAAH! AAHH! AAHH! AAHH! AAAAAARRRHHHH!” Singh shrieked in abject agony. “GET YOUR CLAWS OUT OF MY HAIR, RAT-BIRGUUUUHHH!”
Lemarchand shifted to her knees, which freed Amara’s arms and allowed the Raven to drive her nemesis’ face into the thinly-sheathed plywood. “Your wish is my command, Empress.” Lenore hooked a Half Nelson and pushed up on both knees so she could turn the Subcontinental Siren onto her back.
“Yuuuuhhhhh…you’re finished.” Amara gasped. “You’ll never show your face after I’ve finished with NOMMMPPPPHHHHHHH!”
The Raven scooted up, swung around and sat down full force, her alabaster backside completely sealing off Singh’s mouth and nose! Amara went wild beneath the ass-valanche, both hands slapping and grabbing at Lemarchand’s cheeks while bridging up on her toes and jerking from one side to ano--“AAAAIIIIIEEEEEEEEE!” Singh’s sobs grew much louder albeit no less muffled when Lenore curled her left hand into a claw and ‘smecked’ it down on the center of her golden trunks! Amara’s butt hit the mat with a damp thud and she tried to cross her legs to defend against more punishment, but Lemarchand gripped the inside of the other brunette’s right knee and forced her leg away.
“No escape from the Madhouse, Empress.” Lenore rasped in the midst of kneading and squeezing Amara’s undercarriage with her counterfeit Portia 911. “I may not be queen, but I still rule this ring… and you.” With the soles of her boots tucked against the sides of Singh’s head, Lemarchand began to sweep her crotch along Amara’s face, forehead, nose, lips and chin, no feature was spared as the Raven began to unleash some old school FAWN humiliation on her archrival.
“STAHP!” Singh bawled into those grinding glutes, her iron-clad arrogance crumbling at the worst possible time. “STAHPDAMMYUUU! PLEESE! NOMOAR! JUSDGEDHOFFAMY FAZEOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!”
Lemarchand thrust her grippin’ hand beneath Amara’s waistband and began to attack in earnest, the ripples and bulges in that distended spandex leading Singh inexorably to a howling cry that was lost in the roar of the crowd and Lenore’s own satisfied moan as the climax arched her back. Letting out an exhausted sigh after she’d extracted her claw, the Courtier climbed off the Empress’ glazed mug so she could start shoveling Amara toward the ropes and the palanquin beyond.
It took longer than she liked and some twitching from Singh made her heart skip a few beats, but the Bollywood Bombshell was still fast asleep when Lemarchand pushed her under the bottom rope. “Count it.” she huffed after climbing the ropes to regain her footing. “Count her down, Craig.”
The ref did as bade, his tally quickly joined by the Cellar Dwellers. “ONE… TWO… THREE… FOUR… FIVE…” Amara turned from her belly to her back and threw an arm across her face. “SIX… SEVEN… EIGHT…” She looked to the ring and reached out, either for Lenore or the ropes, the Raven couldn’t tell. “NINE… TEN!”
“Get her out of here.” Lemarchand ordered the attendants as the bell clanged. “Get her out of my sight.”
They got to it, hoisting the palanquin off the bier and tromping up the aisle while the Announcer called, “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner and the Last Woman Standing… LENORE LEMARCHAND!”
“Last woman standing is right.” she told the camera. “Amara’s looking up at the lights, Baby’s wearing a back-brace and I’m still here. Hope you liked the show, Portia. Hope you didn’t mind my using your move. Figured you wouldn’t, you’re not using it anymore, right?”
Lenore tipped the camera a wink, then turned around and strutted back to the middle of the ring where she grabbed Amara’s discarded top and held it high before segueing into the Raven sigil that was returned by everyone save those few keeping a sharp eye on Singh’s trip to the stage and out of the Madhouse.
And those paying attention to the departing, demolished Empress were rewarded when a hooded female figure raced to the palanquin from stage left and shoved the conveyance hard enough to spill the hot mess of contents, Amara crashing to the floor in a glazed, semiconscious heap.
The stunned muscled men were unable to keep the palanquin from slamming on its side, purple satin beddings sent flying atop the humiliated and spent Singh. Big Red Riding Hood was garbed in a tight red one-piece with pads and boots to match. Like the Bombshell, her skin was a seductive golden-brown.
RED HOOD’S GEAR:
www.bloomingdales.com/shop/product/solid-striped-the-claudia-reversible-asymmetric-one-piece-swimsuit?ID=3838435
The woman peeled Amara from the wreckage and lifted the swaying Singh to unsteady feet then proceeded to punt her in the privates. The Empress reflexively rose to tiptoes from the impact, the throbbing pain from her kitty bringing her back to the awful reality of her situation. Knock-kneed, dark eyes welling, jaw slack, Singh’s frozen in anguish, hands buried between her thighs.
“You actually thought I was done with you?” the Red Hood asked. “No, no, no.”
The Hood stepped to Amara, going side by side in opposite directions, her right hand wrapping tightly around the throat of the bug-eyed Bollywood Bombshell. With frightening ease, she launched what’s left of Amara high into the air and Choke Slammed Singh across the remains of the palanquin bursting the device into splinters from the force of its rider’s impact.
CHOKE SLAM @ 00:27:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=_a7A9rxmOTM
The Hood moves to a straddling stance of the spreadeagled Singh and planted a boot atop the chest of the lifeless Amara, adding a second exclamation point to an infamous evening in the Madhouse for the Empress.
The Cellar Dwellers seemed unsure whether to cheer, but the sight of the Subcontinental Siren splayed among the kindling was too good to ignore and they roared with approval. The Hood bowed and when the woman lifted her head, she threw off the cowl to reveal the flawless features of the long-absent Alexis Suguitan.
ALEXIS SUGUITAN
A level of revenge hers, Alexis lifted her arms high and wide and soaked in the continued praise of the FAWNatics. She called for a microphone and received it, raising it to ruby red lips.
“I’m back, bytches. And if this faux badass thinks I’m done with her, when she has the capacity to think, she and her doctors have another thing coming.”
Alexis dropped the mic on the gulping tummy of the Empress and gave a farewell wave to the Raven, a smirking Lenore having enjoyed the show. The Filipino Phenom spun on her boot atop the bare bosom of the unconscious Singh and strode from the ruins, leaving Amara for an EMT clean-up crew.