Post by SammieSinclair on Mar 8, 2015 19:55:03 GMT
“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall with a thirty minute time limit and it is the second match in a best of five series! Introducing first, 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. They call her the Raven… LENORE LEMARCHAND!”
Kula Shaker’s ‘Hush’ hit the speakers and dozens of handmade ’Ravens’ went up, a subtle yet undeniable testament to talent of Emily’s Lady in Waiting. Those same supporters cheered aloud when the Fair & Radiant Maiden flitted through the curtain shortly thereafter. “A little bit louder than last time,” she noted to the nearest camera. “Let that be a lesson. Cream may rise to the top, but a raven knows no bounds.” Hooking her thumbs together, the slender brunette raised the sigil herself, then snapped it apart and started down the aisle.
LENORE LEMARCHAND:
For the second battle in this five part war, Lemarchand wore deep purple boy-cut trunks and matching halter-style bikini top. Her elbow and kneepads were matte black, though the presence of the latter was mere conjecture as they were covered by bell-flared 'leggings' that started just south of mid-thigh and dropped to ankle length. The look was finished with shiny black boots and purple wrist tape that matched her togs.
Paying no attention to the Storm Chasers and other examples of bad taste that dared boo her, Lenore only paused her advance to recognize a single sign holder. “You know why I’m stopping?” she asked the pleased, but clearly cautious fan. He thought about it for a moment. “Because the sign says ’quoth’ the Raven and not ’quote’ the Raven?” She gifted him the tiniest of nods. “Here’s to paying attention in English.” Turning away with a sly wink, the limber brunette strode her way to the base of the steps, took them in a blur and sprang over the top rope. One more Raven went up when she reached the middle of the squared circle, then went down when her music faded away.
The time for talk was over. There was a Storm on the horizon.
“And introducing her opponent, hailing from Richmond, England, she stands at five feet seven inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and fifteen pounds. She is the Oncoming Storm, this is… OLIVIA DARE!"
Everyone who hadn’t cheered Lemarchand (and a great deal that had) let loose an appropriately thunderous cheer as when the sound system offered up the languid, somehow dangerous drumbeat of Hooverphonic’s ‘2Wicky’. That manmade thunder crashed all the louder when the former FAWN World Champion appeared atop the stage to salute the faithful with an index finger raised high overhead.
OLIVIA DARE:
Tonight the Daredevil wore a pair of stormy black bikini briefs edged with silver trim and cut high enough to give the throng a tantalizing view of her sculpted hips, thighs and calves. Her equally exquisite midriff sheathed in a matching black bustier and the rest of her ensemble was finished with short black wrestling shoes and silver knee and elbow pads.
More than ready to put Lenore in a nigh insurmountable 0-2 hole, Olivia started down and would’ve been there a few seconds earlier if she hadn’t stopped to appreciate a sign that read:
RAVEN + LIGHTNING = 0-5
DARE TO BELIEVE!
“Oh, I don’t just believe,” Dare said with a supremely confident smile, “I know.” Thanking the fan with a effortlessly delivered selfie, Olivia pulled away and made her way up the steps while making sure to meet Lenore’s gaze.
She held it for several seconds, then opened her mouth to say something only to swing around and drape her arms over the top rope. Smirking even wider because of the holes she felt burning in the back of her head, Olivia dipped her knees and tumbled back to land on her feet with barely a whisper. Unable to ignore the lure of a staredown any longer, Dare rounded on the American and stalked in just close enough to make referee Al Carpenter nervous. “You bored of this match yet, Al?” Olivia asked without taking her eyes from Lemarchand.
Al shook his head ‘no’. “Not even sort of, Olivia.”
Dare nodded. “Me neither. Even if I do know how it’s going to end.”
Lenore’s eyes narrowed, but she said nothing.
Confident the Raven wouldn’t be so gauche as to attack before the bell, Olivia turned her back without fear and went to the far corner. Lenore mirrored her shortly thereafter, an impressive response considering the urge to plant her boot in Dare’s ass was nothing short of maddening.
Many of the fans in attendance tonight had been there at Season’s Beatings as well and when the bell sounded it occurred to them that this didn’t seen like a new skirmish. Rather it felt like the second fall in what had already been an epic battle.
Lenore, who’d been pacing the bowels of the Court’s clubhouse like a caged lioness for the better part of two weeks, came off the buckles and went straight for the woman who’d defeated her in December.
Olivia watched her approach and thought it might be fun to dip through the ropes, thus forcing the American to ‘slow her roll’, as the kids liked to say. Amusing though it might have been, she dismissed it almost at once. Paltry mind games weren’t nearly as enticing as the prospect of jumping out to a two-nothing lead. So Dare started at her brunette just as quickly, though she did so on a wide curve to make sure Lenore couldn’t force her against the buckles.
Tension grew as distance waned and a good portion of the crowd sucked in a breath in anticipation of the Bytch Slap they were certain would soon split the air. Lemarchand did indeed extend a hand, or in this case a fist. Not a punch either, but for a simple tap of knuckles, which Olivia returned at once. Pleasantries thus dispensed, blonde and brunette lunged in a Collar & Elbow Tie-up that brought their tummies together with a SMACK louder than any mere slap. There was no feeling out process this time, just straight ahead aggression as the rivals sought to impose will. Control was measured in forward progress, the loss thereof by how many steps they ceded when the other woman forced them to give ground.
The first clench lasted ten seconds, the second went eighteen and the third, which featured both ladies skidding along the ropes and bouncing off corners went a full thirty-five seconds. Neither was able to seize anything resembling control however and after the last breakaway, Olivia shook her head and muttered, “Sod this.” Louder, and to Lenore, she said, “You want to settle who’s stronger, pretty bird? This should do it.” The lithesome Briton raised her right hand overhead, a challenge which earned a loud cheer from the FAWNatics.
Lenore stepped forward, lifted a hand, then held up an index finger. “Hold that thought, ‘Liv. I need a mic.” Sure enough she turned her back on Dare and moved quickly to the edge of the ring.
“Mmmmmmh, Lenore?” Al called after her. “Ya know the match is live, right?”
“Not an idiot, Carpenter, but--” One of the techs handed her a microphone, allowing Lemarchand to finish her thought for the rest of the class. “But everyone needs to hear this.” She shifted her attention to Olivia and went on. “I’ve gotta be honest, you and I don’t make for the most compelling arm wrestling match. None of these people paid to find out whether or not I can bend you into a perfect arch, which, for the record, I can.”
Dare snorted at this, but she otherwise held her tongue as Lenore closed in. “They do have questions though. The kind of pressing issues that are mulled over when they’re alone with their messageboards, Youtube clips and tawdry little bits of fan fiction.” This earned a lascivious cheer from a small, but enthusiastic segment of those assembled and Lenore returned it with a smirk. “Oh yes my friends, I am on to you. You see, I know that you don’t care about who would rise or kneel were Olivia and I to lock hands. What you REALLY want to know is much simpler. Much more… primal.” The Raven was inches from her opponent now and though she continued to speak to the fans, her eyes never left the Blackbird. “You want to know who’s legs are stronger….” she reached out with her free hand and traced a finger up the length of Dare’s left thigh. “You want to know who’s tummy is tighter.” she let her fingers glide along Olivia’s washboard abs and the blonde let her, though she very much wanted to paste a slap on Lemarchand’s mouth. Sensing the overt hostility, Lenore offered her a brazen smile. “I already know the answer, sweet girl. As do you. So why not show the whole world?” With that she raised her free hand and laid it across the back of Dare’s neck.
It wasn’t an invitation to dance, but half a Muy Thai Neck Clasp.
Olivia nodded inwardly. The clever bytch wanted a Clinch Fight right here and now. Suddenly glad she’d spent so much time working on her core this last month, the Englishwoman gripped the wrist that held Lenore’s mic so she could bring it to her lips. “Hope you’ve been keeping up with your crunches, dear heart. Because you’re on.” Dare released the American’s wrist and curled that hand behind Lemarchand’s neck.
Refusing to drop her eyes now that the challenge was accepted, Lenore handed the mic to Al then laced her fingers together to complete the Neck Clasp. “First strike for you, Olivia.” she said softly. “Age before beauty and all that.”
The Oncoming Storm secured her own grip and squeezed the Lenore’s neck ever so gently. “Oh no dear, I must insist you have the honor. Loser’s privilege and all thaHUUUNNNNNGGHHH!”
Lenore buried her left knee in the blonde’s navel, shooting the Brit’s butt back like she’d taken a medicine ball to the gut. Absolutely loving the sound of Dare’s wheezing breath, the Fair & Radiant Maiden hissed, “You know the rules, princess. Five seconds to respond or I go again. Or you could just take a knee now and admit that NNNNGGGGGHHHH!”
Olivia pushed up off her left foot to better bury her right knee in Lemarchand’s midsection. “Better idea,” she huffed, “You take a knee and kiss my arsSSSOOOOOOFFFFHHH!”
Lenore used the clasp to pull the blonde in a little closer before delivering her retaliation. Fighting the urge to dry heave, Olivia put her forehead to the brunette’s and took deep breaths. “Already sucking wind, huh? I would’ve thought you’d be good at GUUUUHHHHHH!”
Dare sacrificed a little bit of power to deliver her second shot just above the waistband of her opponent’s trunks. “I AM good at this, in case you haven’t realized it, luv.” she cooed in Lemarchand’s ear. “Better than you in fact, as everyone but you already knAAAAAGGGGGHH!”
Lenore shifted tactics, delivering her third knee not to Olivia’s tummy, but in above the curve of her left hip. Dare shrieked as the kidney shot lit up her side, it was a sound the Lemarchand enjoyed a great deal. Squeezing her clasp a little tighter, she jostled Olivia’s noggin back n’ forth and growled, “One. Two. Three. Four. FivVERRRRGGH!”
The Briton beat the agreed upon count with a short Double Kneelift that almost doubled her foe over. Such an attack wasn’t entirely copasetic by traditional Clinch Fighting rules, but this wasn’t the sort of venue where one complained of such things. One merely soaked up the hurt or took the knee, it was that simple. Speaking of soaking, Olivia pulled Lenore as close as she could, unashamedly drawing in the shockwaves pouring off the American. Nose to nose with the Raven, she cooed, “One. Two. Three. Four. AAAAAAHHH GAAAAAWWWD YOU BLOODY SKAG!”
Lenore’s left knee swung up n’ around to strike Dare’s right side with a sound like a baseball bat striking wet clay. If there was anything worse than a left hook to the liver, it was a perfectly placed Kneelift to the liver, as evidenced by the way Olivia buckled in the wake of the blow. But Lemarchand couldn’t claim victory just yet however. Rubbery though her legs might have been, Dare’s death-grip across the nape of the brunette’s neck kept her knees off the mat and so the vicious test of endurance rolled on. Dark eyes alight with angry triumph, Lenore kissed the crown of Olivia’s skull before delivering her count. “One. Two. Three. Four. Five!”
THWHUMP!
That Kneelift sent Olivia’s legs flying back and Lemarchand had to stamp forward to keep her balance. The adjustment allowed Dare to do the same, if not much else. Above her, Lenore’s count was merciless. “One. Two. Three. Four. Five!” Her knee shot Olivia’s hips backward and broke her Clasp like wet tissue paper, leaving the former World Champ to collapse like a gut-shot penitent. Pressing a forearm against her own aching abs, Lenore buried her other hand in the Brit’s hair and yanked her head back at a nasty angle. “I’ll only ask once, ‘Liv. Do you give up?”
Dare might’ve been short of breath, but that didn’t stop her from rasping, “Kuuuhhhh…. kiss my arse ya scrawny twat.”
Lemarchand nodded. “Good.” Several strong yanks forced the ailing former champion to stand and a sharp Forearm Smash to the side of the head made sure she offered no protest when the Fair & Radiant Maiden sidled in against her right shoulder. From there Lenore slipped her right arm under Dare’s bicep and palmed the back of her neck to complete the Half Nelson. “You’ve probably already guessed, but I want to be perfectly clear on one thing.” the brunette grabbed hold of the Brit’s waistband with her left hand and pulled her the tiniest bit closer. “My strategy tonight is simple. Stop you to the body.”
‘Body’ was fresh off her lips when Lemarchand drilled her right knee into Olivia’s already tender stomach. Working desperately not to sag, Dare tried to jab an elbow into her attacker’s face, but the Half Nelson kept that arm effectively neutralized. Resigned to cattier tactics, she reached over with her left hand, plunged it into the brunette’s dark locks and pulled until she felt Lemarchand hiss. “Shouldn’t give away your strategy, luv.” she explained through clenched teeth. “Makes it far easier for things to go awrNNNNGGGGGHHH!”
Lenore hit her with a second Kneelift, then a third, fourth, fifth and sixth, the Raven ruthlessly methodical in her attack on the same stretch of tummy. Give Dare credit, she made Lemarchand pay for every shot with some eye-watering hair pulls, alas the give n’ take came to an end when Al Carpenter (who sounded rather guilty, it should be noted) murmured, “Let go of her hair now, Olivia. C’mon, don’t make me cou--”
“Thank you for the concern Al, but I’ve got this.” Lenore interrupted. “Olivia can hold on just as tight as she wants, after all it’s the only thing keeping her on her fetTTRRRGGGHHH!”
Dare raised her right boot and stamped down heel-first on Lenore’s left foot. While not the most savvy counter of her career, she was desperate to curb the other woman’s momentum and she had to admit there was a visceral pleasure in grinding Lemarchand’s toes like a cockroach. “You’re going down a dark road, pretty bird.” Olivia spat as she attacked on two fronts. “Go any farther and you might not be able to come WHOOOAAHGGUUUUFFFHHH!”
Lenore wrenched her foot free of Dare’s mauling, then crouched down and popped up on her toes. The Oncoming Storm rose with her, lifted by the Half Nelson and that wedgie-inducing grip on her waistband. Though Lemarchand could’ve administered any number of slams or face-plants from this position, she chose to return her foe to the mat in the same fashion she’d left it. Only caveat being the Courtier’s right knee, which Lenore pistoned up to meet the Englishwoman’s falling tummy.
Dare doubled over and would’ve collapsed to all fours if Lemarchand hadn’t relinquished her hold on blonde trunks to slip that arm between her thighs. Hoisting Olivia onto her shoulders for a Fireman’s Carry wasn’t hard at all, holding off on more punishment long enough to deliver a message to the FAWNatics, that was the real challenge.
In the end she managed, mostly by focusing in on a sign that read ’Olivia > Lenore’ and bellowing the brunt of her ire at the holder. “OLIVIA’S TOO PROUD TO SUBMIT, SO IF YOU PEOPLE GIVE A DAMN ABOUT HER, YOU’LL BE HER VOICE WHEN THE TIME COMES!”
She didn’t give them time to debate her proposal, choosing instead to toss Dare from her shoulders and drop backward in one smooth motion. Raising her knees to chest level as gravity drew her to the canvas, Lenore guided Olivia into a THWHUMPING tummy-first landing atop her shins, the Double Knee Gutbuster a worthy homage to her mentor and a logical extension of her plan to ruin the Blackbird’s abs. The Englishwoman would never admit to such a dire condition, yet she clearly wasn’t feeling too good as she bounced up n’ off the brunette’s knees before tumbling away.
DOUBLE KNEE GUTBUSTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=kIePV-zZVS4
Lemarchand crawled after her and was in the process of sliding in for a cover when Olivia rolled onto her stomach, either to avoid a pin or another attack on her midsection. It succeeded in the former, failed miserably in the latter. Devoted to her goal with a fanaticism that would’ve impressed Miranda Wainright, Emily’s Lady in Waiting got to her feet, leaned down over the gasping blonde and slipped both arms around her hips. It spoke volumes to the damage already done that Lenore was able to extract a painful wail from her rival merely by bearing down on the Waistlock and even more to the brunette’s deceptive strength when she peeled Olivia off the mat and arched up n’ over to PLANT Dare on the back of her head and shoulders courtesy a Dead-Lift German Suplex. Remembering how dominant Olivia looked when she pinned her with the Inverted Gory Bomb in December, Lemarchand matched the effort with her own bridge through…
DEAD-LIFT GERMAN SUPLEX:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=sxlzBSX11eE
ONE…
TWO…
Olivia pulled loose and immediately rolled toward the edge of the ring for a breather on the outside. She was within inches of sanctuary when Lenore barked, “Don’t you run from me, ‘Liv! Don’t you dare!” The implication that she was fleeing battle stopped the blonde in her tracks. Part of her screamed that it was a trick, a mind game the Courtier would use to continue picking her apart. Dare’s brain knew this was true, yet her heart correctly noted that Lenore had never gone to the outside in their first match, even when she was getting her ass handed to her. ‘And look where it got her!’ the blonde’s mind yammered. ‘Beaten! You BEAT her! But she’s going to BEAT you if you don’t catch your breath!’ “Not bloody likely.” she said very softly. After that, she hooked an arm over the middle rope and used it to haul herself to one knee. Taking her first deep breath in what felt like hours, she winced at the pain but refused to let it out in anything other than a slow, measured whoosh.
Very much aware of Lemarchand’s gaze, she raised her head and met it with no hesitation whatsoever. “You really think I’d run from you, pretty bird?”
“I think I’ve given you the worst beginning to a match you’ve ever had and you don’t know how to deal with it. We both know the kind of wrestler who rolls under the ropes, sweet girl. The kind who’s too embarrassed to admit she just got schooled in front of the whole world.”
Olivia’s cheeks flushed pink, suffering through wedgies, claw holds and smothers was one thing, getting so handily outwrestled was something else entirely and it scalded her pride more than any Face Sit. Clambering to her feet with a stifled groan, she stepped off the ropes and nodded to the Raven. “You’re right, Lenore. You’ve kicked my arse since the opening bell. Would you care to know what I intend to do about it?”
“Do tell.” Lenore answered without a trace of sarcasm.
“I’m going to kick yours until the closing bell sounds. So shut your mouth and step up, little girl. The Oncoming Storm waits for no one.” Dare raised her hands for a clench and started forward. Lemarchand did the same but when she closed to lock-up Olivia twisted into her and TWHAPPED a slashing European Uppercut across her jaw. The American staggered so Dare walked her down and added two more in rapid succession. That got Lenore’s hands up, one of which the former World Champ snatched in a Wristlock. Twisting her foe’s arm in a quick, wide circle, Olivia stepped back and brought her right foot up against the side of the brunette’s face. Then she pushed up and laid out to stuff the Raven’s insolent mouth with a whole lotta Sole Food.
SOLE FOOD:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=gtap5IzhMDo
It was designed more as a stunning blow than a Knock Out shot and that’s exactly what it did, rocking the Courtier back on her heels like she was fighting against a strong wind. Galvanized by the sight of a vulnerable Lenore, Olivia hopped forward, planted on her left foot and THWHACKED the right into the pit of the brunette’s stomach with a sort of low angle Super Kick.
LOW ANGLE SUPER KICK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=O8agYOSErME
Lemarchand doubled over but straightened up shortly thereafter which proved a poor choice as the Blackbird immediately followed with a standard Super Kick that caught Lenore’s chin like a thunderclap. The tingle that ran from her foot all the way to her hip told Dare she’d hit the kick perfectly, but instead of timbering to her back in a glassy-eyed sprawl, the brunette swiveled around in a drunken half circle and crumpled to all fours.
SUPER KICK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=WKT4EEEHiig
Presented with the gift of Lenore’s backside, Olivia actually drew back her right foot with the intention of punting her foe in the arse, but she stopped herself at the last moment. While booting Lenore’s scrawny backside up between her shoulders would’ve been exquisite, it would’ve gone against the gauntlet Lemarchand had tossed at her feet. The Fair & Radiant Maiden had stood nose to nose with her no less than five minutes prior and told the Briton that she was going to stop her to the body. Correction, she’d told Dare there was nothing she could do to stop her. It was the sort of slight Olivia couldn’t let stand, in fact there was only one response that would do and it involved cracking the other woman’s ribs.
To that end she stalked a tight circle around on Lenore’s left side, then spun on her heel and ran the ropes. Forcing herself to move faster despite the pain in her ribs, Dare waited until she was almost on top of the prone battler before hopping up and THWHAPPING both feet into Lemarchand’s ribs.
Caught broadside by the perfectly-placed Dropkick, Lenore went rolling and came to a stop with her knees and cheek pressed against the canvas. Lemarchand was fighting to draw a deep breath when Olivia grabbed her by the hip and shoulder and tugged her onto her back. Fist cocked back behind her ear, Dare drew a bead on the American’s chin and surged down and in to drill an Elbow Smash against her jaw. Lenore flopped out flat so Olivia got to her feet, then bent down and put her hands on Lemarchand’s chest and hips to make sure she didn’t wriggle loose.
Satisfied that the Raven was at least temporarily grounded, the Oncoming Storm busted out a gorgeous vertical leap and pulled her knees all the way to chest-level. Then she started down and Olivia THWHUMPED her heels into the pit of Lemarchand’s stomach, a brutally vengeful Double Stomp that earned a loud cheer from the FAWNatics. Lenore sat up and got pushed right back down when Olivia slid off her perch. Dropping to her knees beside the gasping brunette, Dare stretched out atop Lemarchand’s chest and hooked the far leg for…
ONE…
TWO…
Emily’s Lady In Waiting kicked loose and turned onto one side with her back pointed toward the rallying Englishwoman. Olivia didn’t bother to contest the count, her attention was focused on Lenore and just how she was going to throw the upstart’s challenge in her face. After a moment she worked her fingers into Lemarchand’s hair and hauled her to boot leather. Though the Stormchasers were urging their heroine to take all sorts of gut-churning revenge on her adversary, Olivia held off for the time being. Instead she slipped one arm over Lenore’s shoulder, the other between her thighs and ‘hupped’ the Courtier into place across her chest. Treating Lemarchand’s behind to a companionable pat, Dare set off on a walk around the squared circle.
“I’ve endured a lot of punishment throughout the course of my career, Lenore.” she said once the pain in her own ribs receded to tolerable levels. “Autumn Sammain once kicked my legs so hard I burst into tears on the spot.” Without warning the blonde pushed onto her toes and sank to one knee, all the better to deposit Lemarchand’s ribs across the smooth plank of her thigh. Lenore grunted and squirmed, but Olivia held her tight. Shortly thereafter she rose to her full height and the walk continued. “Cynthia Mitchell once introduced me to her Drop Out on the arena floor. I lost the World Title shortly thereafter and I am ashamed to say I wouldn’t know how that match ended if I hadn’t watched a tape the next morning.” The admission was still quite fresh when Dare dropped down for a second Ribbreaker.
Unpleasantly aware of just how precarious her position would soon become, the Raven crooked her right arm into a ‘V’ and jabbed stubby elbows into her attacker’s side, alas the angle made the blows nothing more than a nuisance, even for Olivia’s aching innards.
Seemingly unconcerned with the brunette’s resistance, Olivia got to her feet. “Portia VanBuren once ground me to climax in the middle of this very ring, as you so cheekily pointed out during our first meeting. (THWHUMP!) Jenny Jacobs has devised more ways to drop me on my head and back than I thought humanly possible. (THWHUMP!) And once upon a time Sydney Deschain bent me into such a knot that the soles of my feet touched the back of my head. (THWHUMP!) I bawled like a toddler with a skinned knee, then spent the next three afternoons in an ice bath to make the pain go away.” (THWHUMP!)
Lenore’s weight was becoming a bit of a chore after half a dozen Ribbreakers, so Olivia stayed on her knee after hitting the latest. “But for all that they’ve done to me, none of those women, bloody hell, NO woman, has ever beaten me to my knees in the first five minutes of a wrestling match. It is a noteworthy accomplishment indeed, though it galls me to say so.”
Lenore’s lips turned up in a pained smile the Brit didn’t see. “First time for everything, isn’t there, sweet girl?”
“Yes there is.” Olivia agreed. “In fact I believe this will be a night of firsts for both of us.”
The cool assurance in Dare’s voice sent a chill down Lemarchand’s spine and she resumed her writhing in hopes of breaking free ahead of whatever Olivia had in mind. Alas, the Daredevil would have her due, as Lenore discovered when the blonde got up and marched her to the nearest corner. Wedging the struggling wrestler back-first between the top and middle turnbuckles, Olivia put a steadying hand on Lemarchand’s hip and another on her shoulder.
“Tonight’s the first night I was ever beaten to my knees. It’s also the first night you cough up blood in front of the world.” Dare buried her left knee in Lenore’s midsection and thus the FAWNatics got their wish as the former World Champion proceeded to brutalize her rival’s tummy with a ruthless volley of machinegun Kneelifts.
A short distance away, Al Carpenter tolled a slow, internal five count to see if Olivia would end the brutality on her own recognizance. The notion proved a pipedream as the official knew it would, so he rushed the corner and tapped Dare on the shoulder. “That’s enough, ‘Liv. The two of you work can work each other over as much as you want as long as it’s out in the middle of the ring.”
Olivia turned to look at him and while her pace slackened, it most certainly did not stop. “The rules dictate that I am entitled to a five second grace period before acquiescing to your request, do they not, Mr. Carpenter?”
“You’re really going to make me?”
“I do believe I am.”
Al obliged her and the Briton stopped working the Kneelifts so she could turn Lemarchand from her side to her back. With the helpless Raven looking into the lights and two full seconds left on the count, Olivia grabbed the top rope in both hands, jumped up and THUMPED both knees into that torched tummy. The force of it knocked Lenore from the corner to the mat in a gagging heap, one which offered minimal protest when Olivia snatched it by ankle and wrist for a brisk draaaaaaaaaaaag to the center of the ring. Dare tossed the limbs aside when there was no chance of her prey getting an assist from the ropes and quickly dropped butt-first onto Lemarchand’s fluttering midsection. Lenore’s legs kicked up as the air rushed out so Olivia hooked ‘em behind the knees and leaned forward into a Matchbook good for…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
Lemarchand popped her hips and rolled into a seat, a shift that also put the Englishwoman’s shoulders to the canvas. Leaning hard against those upturned haunches, the brunette tipped her squirming rival a wink while Carpenter counted…
ONE…
TWO…
Olivia ‘smecked’ her stems against the sides of Lenore’s skull and somersaulted onto her knees, breaking the pin with a full second to spare. Angry at herself for the lapse in defense, the Daredevil scrambled / crawled into place on Lemarchand’s left side and snatched hold of her hair. “I’m through toying with you, pretty bird.” Dare forced the other woman to sit up thanks to a savage tug on her tresses. “It’s time you understood you’re not on my level.”
That pronouncement raised a snarl from Lemarchand even in the depths of her distress. Course it didn’t do her much good when Olivia threaded her legs across the American’s waist and locked her ankles tight. Considering the wicked attention paid to both abdomens up to this point, you’d be excused for thinking Dare’s gams were honed in on Lemarchand’s tummy. You’d also be wrong. Because Olivia’s Scissors were located much farther north, her left leg wedged down atop the modest swell of Lenore’s chest while her right leg was braced just beneath the younger battler’s shoulders. Far from a miscalculation, this particular hold allowed the blonde to keep her right hand pressed to the mat for additional leverage while her left hand was left to its own wicked devices. Those devices revealed themselves quite plainly when the Oncoming Storm curled that hand into a talon and plunged it into the fertile soil of Lenore’s sweat-dampened midriff.
Already short of breath thanks to the Scissors, Lemarchand sucked in a quick, pained wheeze, but forced herself to exhale very slowly so Dare couldn’t tighten the coil of her thighs. Olivia appreciated the thinking woman’s response, not that it really mattered at this point. The Scissors were only a smokescreen, meant to keep the Raven suitably occupied while Dare’s nails continued to gnaw, chew and otherwise feast on Lenore’s defenseless belly.
Lenore was no fool, she knew she couldn’t let Olivia work her tummy unchecked for much longer, however she also knew it would take far more than brute force or even skillful finesse to escape this trap. Which was why she endured the growing fire in her stomach in favor of slapping and raking at the sleek thigh belted across her tits. Dare winced as welts rose behind Lemarchand’s nails, but frankly she was more irritated by the American’s lack of reaction to the Belly Claw. Ignoring the faint cramp in her fingers to work it that much harder, she flipped hair out of her face and asked, “Sure that’s the best use of your time, luv? Seems I’m about to bore through that tummy you’re so proud of.”
“Are you clawing me? I hadn’t noticed.” Lenore answered without ever taking her attention of Dare’s Scissors.
An unexpected fury welled up in the blonde’s heart, one she sated by abandoning the claw to reach over and CRAAAKING the Yank’s cheek. Mashing her cheeks between thumb and forefinger, the former FAWN World Champion growled, “I’ve had just about enough disrespect, you grotty little wankEERROOOWW!”
The Fair & Radiant Maiden twisted loose of Olivia’s fish face and promptly sank her teeth into the soft flesh at the base of the blonde’s thumb. Biting wasn’t legal, as Al was about to point out when Lenore spat out her mouthful o’ Brit and placed both hands on Dare’s left thigh. A single violent shove moved the Scissors from her chest to her hips, which struck most of the FAWNatics as a questionable decision until Lemarchand twisted a quarter circle to face off with her attacker.
“Truuuu… trust me… sweet girl.” Lenore’d wrapped her arms around the blonde’s knees and was in the process of struggling to her own. “If I wanted to disrespect you, I would.” Olivia reached for her with both hands but the Courtier pulled back, meaning the Blackbird was justified in pouring everything she had into the Scissors. Lemarchand shrieked so harshly that the ref almost signaled for the bell without asking for a surrender. That would’ve been a poor decision because Lenore was shaking her head furiously ‘no’ and even more important, she’d regained her feet despite the encroaching gams.
Dare felt a distinct tingle of unease race up her spine despite the clear anguish on her opponent’s face. Strong as they were, Scissors weren’t nearly as useful when-- “ Bloody hell!” she spat. “Don’t even think about swinging me LenAAAHHHH!”
She thought about it.
Lemarchand hoisted her blonde a few inches off the canvas and started to spin in a circle, slowly at first, then faster and faster until Dare’s world was nothing more than a whistling blur. Desperate to escape the impromptu Giant Swing before Lenore could send her flying, Olivia laced her hands behind her head and slooooooooowly pulled herself up in a sort of hanging crunch that would’ve been loads less painful if Lenore hadn’t tortured her stomach all night. Forcing herself to gut it out, Olivia drew up almost face to face with the brunette and reached for “NNNGGGHH!”
The Raven slammed a Headbutt between her eyes, then let loose of Dare’s right leg, trusting that the Englishwoman’s instinct to maintain the Scissors could be used against her. In this she was correct, Olivia never thought to loosen her grip even when Lenore hooked an arm over her head to secure a Front Facelock. With Dare cradled up but good, Lemarchand abruptly hit the brakes and laid out on her back to THWHUNK her foe’s skull into the mat courtesy a Cradle DDT. The high speed meeting of head and canvas finally popped the lock on Lenore’s waist, leaving her sucking in great tearing breaths while Dare flopped onto one side with both arms wrapped around her noggin.
CRADLE DDT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=kH1SBqcUi4s
It took Lemarchand nearly twenty seconds to resume something like normal respiration, thankfully Olivia had only struggled to all fours at that point. “So you’re worried about disrespect, are you?” the brunette huffed, her breath blowing out the sweat-soaked hair that hung in front of her face. “Then let me give you something that’ll really keep you awake at night.”
Working a hand into matted, golden locks, Lenore got to her feet and set off on a circuit of the ring. Too woozy to realize her predicament, Dare trailed behind the Fair & Radiant Maiden like a long-suffering pet until they drew to a stop in front of the ropes facing the ramp. Still in control of the Brit’s hair, Lemarchand strengthened her grip with a handful of waistband and used both to haul her opponent to boot-leather. Not all the way though, as Olivia was only three-quarters upright when the vindictive brunette forced her torso between the top and middle ropes. After that it was easy to hook Dare’s arms over the uppermost strand, leaving her hung out to dry in a very bad part of town.
Fearful of what the Raven could accomplish from such a position, the crowd pleaded for mercy, then got downright uneasy when Lenore stepped out onto the apron. Her right hand found Olivia’s hair again and she wrenched her head back, all the better to look the blonde in the eye. “If I didn’t respect you, I’d make you WATCH everything I’m about to do.” she pulled up, forcing Dare to take a look at the vastness of the FAWN’tron. “But I DO respect you, sweet girl. Even if you don’t respect me. So I’m not going to make you watch. You’re just gonna hang here until the respect comes naturally.”
True to her word, Emily’s Lady in Waiting let loose of Olivia’s hair and let her head drop. With Dare’s chin pressed in just above the modest swell of her cleavage. Lemarchand pulled back her right knee, then pistoned it up to THWHUMP! Dare’s exposed stomach. Olivia jolted in the wake of the blow, but Lenore’s clever rope trick meant couldn’t even fall down, let alone pull away. Nodding her satisfaction with the tactic, the American went back to Olivia’s hair, all the better to minimize the flailing while she THWHUMPED a second Kneelift home. Then a third. And a fourth. And a fifth. And eight more, a full baker’s dozen delivered to the former World Champion’s washboard abdominals before Carpenter finally tapped Lemarchand on the shoulder.
“Get her out of the ropes, Lenore. I want this back in the ring, understood?”
Lenore raked a hand through her hair and pressed a forearm to her own roiling gut. “I do. And I will, very shortly.” Al started to protest this egregious spamming of Kneelifts, but the Raven silenced him by taking Dare’s arms off the ropes without so much as another smack Not that it meant a painless extraction, far from it. Lemarchand twisted her burden around so Olivia was looking into the rafters. Her eyes were still adjusting to the glare of the overheads when Lenore cupped both hands across her chin. Tugging the back of the Englishwoman’s head against her left shoulder, she stepped off the apron and dropped to the floor to ‘twang!’ Dare’s spine against the middle strand and BWUNK the back of her head off the apron. Left for dead on Night’s Plutonian Shore, Olivia slopped out of the ropes in slow motion to land in a sweaty, mewling heap at the brunette’s feet.
NIGHT'S PLUTONIAN SHORE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=5RCpxbSGUps
While she doubted Dare’s ability to roust herself before the end of Carpenter’s count, Lemarchand didn’t even consider seeking a count out. To do so and fail would be bad enough, but to do so and succeed would be tantamount to telling the Blackbird she couldn’t get a pin, submission or knockout. That was why grabbed Olivia by togs and tresses and hauled her to verticality before the ref hit ‘FIVE’ on his count. Pulling away from the apron to get a little extra space, Lenore spun her burden in a smooth circle and tossed her under the bottom rope.
Dare stopped a little shy of the center, which was just where Lemarchand wanted her. Moving from floor to apron in a single quick step, the Courtier grabbed the top rope in both hands and leaned back before leaping onto the rubber-coated steel with an agility most tended to forget, Lenore threw herself into a sharp, headfirst somersault that ended with the full weight of her hundred and twenty-three pounds THWHUMPING down atop Olivia’s defenseless belly. Securing a tuff Lateral Press while Dare still quivered with hurt, the brunette hooked the far leg and counted along with Al…
SPRINGBOARD SENTON ATOMICO:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=W3ZeeP2Vq3I
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOO!
The Oncoming Storm proved not quite becalmed as she got a shoulder up with barely half a second to spare. Lenore rocked back on her knees and took several deep breaths, each more painful than she cared to admit. After a moment’s thought she huffed, “Give up, Olivia. You’re risking broken ribs and I want you at your best each time we wrestle.”
Dare wanted nothing more than to turn away and curl up around her tortured middle, but she didn’t for the same reason Lenore didn’t try for the count out. It seemed that both women would rather lose (or at least suffer a great deal) rather than show her opponent weakness. Arms clutched tight across her navel, the Blackbird grunted, “Yuuuhhh… your legs couldn’t pin me in December. They sure as bloody fahk can’t submit me in FebruarNO! AAAAAAHHHHH GAAAAAAHHHHD!”
Angered by the lies, Lenore jerked Olivia to a seat via a double handful of hair and snuggled in on her six. Legs splayed, she slipped them around the Briton’s waist and crossed her ankles. The Scissors were heartbeats away from clamping down when Olivia abandoned the protective swaddling and jammed her elbows into the sides of the brunette’s knees. With her head bowed in concentration and her hands clasped at chest-level, a part of Dare’s mind noted it must’ve looked like she was praying to keep Lemarchand’s legs at bay but she didn’t care what it looked like as long as it did the job.
For a while it did.
The tactic was simple to say the least, but Dare was as good with her elbows as she was with her knees and she used them like an expert to keep the trap from snapping shut. She’d started to entertain ideas of escaping relatively unscathed when Lenore PWAAAKED a Forearm Smash against the nape of her neck. Olivia’s first instinct was to defend, but if she moved her arms the Scissors would have her waist and she couldn’t allow that. So she shook her head and taunted, “I’ve stymied your Scissors with nothing but my elbows, pretty bird. Do you actually think I can’t take the worst your forearms can dish NNNNNGGGGHHH!”
Lemarchand pounded her across the back of the neck again. “Let’s see how you’re doing in twenty seconds, English.” Free to attack on two fronts, Lenore set to work on her foe’s head and shoulders, the Raven just bludgeoning away with a methodical series of Forearm Smashes Dare simply had to endure. Through it all Olivia warded off the American’s gams, her elbow props holding steady even as her neck started to throb like a rotten tooth. She’d just made a microadjustment when Lenore leaned forward and hooked her arms around the blonde’s biceps.
Olivia’s eyes snapped open wide and she shouted, ‘NOOOO NNNGGGGGGHH!”
Lenore ripped her defenses away in a Double Chickenwing and the Scissors bit into her waist with a meaty ‘smeck!’ Basking in the sound of Olivia Dare’s anguish, Lenore leaned back and squeeeeeeeeeeeezed down on the hold, making sure to focus the strongest pressure on her blonde’s floating ribs. “There’s no shame in losing to me, ‘Liv.” she said it loud enough to be heard over Dare’s groans. “Hell, I shook your hand after you flash pinned my ass. Now it’s time you told these people there’s no shame in tapping to my legs!” Lemarchand emphasized the point by bearing down on her opponent’s ribs.
Features flushed bright red, Olivia rolled her shoulders and shook her head ‘no’ neither of which got her any closer to escaping the Courtier’s grip.
Al Carpenter didn’t much like the look on Olivia’s face and wasted no time in telling her so. “You’re not looking good, ‘Liv. It’s time you either got out of this or lived to fight another day. because I’m not going to have them cart you out of here with busted ribs.”
“Listen to him, Olivia.” Lenore spoke up. “I’ve got you in deep. There’s no way out.”
Olivia sucked in the deepest breath she could, then rasped, “That’s where you’re wrong, pretty bird. There’s always a waaaauuuuunnnngghhhhh…. way out. And there is shame in losing… losing to you. Because you’re just not as good as I am.”
Lemarchand’s expression of intense determination blossomed into one of truly volcanic anger. She fed this anger with her strongest constriction yet, one so powerful it made Olivia throw her head back and scream like a banshee. The Raven gave very brief consideration to squeezing until she felt something snap, but in the end held back. Breaking Dare’s ribs might get her a submission in the record books, but if it didn’t come from the blonde’s lips or hand, Lenore knew it wouldn’t count. Just as important, any broken bones meant a mandatory ten week recovery period from FAWN brass, meaning the stubborn bytch wouldn’t be cleared to wrestle by the time Spring Break rolled around. Resting heavily on her palms, (she’d kept her tush elevated to keep the pressure steady) Lenore Lemarchand did something that was almost unheard of throughout her career so far.
“One more chance, ‘Liv. Tap out. On my thigh or the canvas, it doesn’t matter to me, but you’re going to tap out. Because if you don’t I’ll give you something to be ashamed of.”
The threat curdled the Englishwoman’s blood but it also tempered her legendary resolve. After several seconds of tense silence, she replied, “If I could see your face I’d spit in it.”
Lenore swallowed the furious lump in her throat and nodded. “So be it.”
Dare grimaced, then jabbed an angry elbow into the meat of her attacker’s thigh. “Would you please just shut your bloody gob and fiGHHWHOOOAAAAAAHHHH!”
Lemarchand leaned right then torqued left, throwing the both of them into a roll that put the brunette on her tummy and the blonde on her back. Carpenter would’ve swooped in to make the count then and there if the Raven had come to a stop but it seemed her journey was just getting started. Because Lenore kept right on going, tumbling back n’ forth between her tummy ‘n tush while Dare was rolled head over heels. The FAWNatics recognized it as an old staple of Shea London’s offense and a more gam-centric take on Babe Babcock’s Whirlpool Pin, yet those ladies only went through two or three full rotations, if that. Lenore on the other hand was through three and into the fourth before the crowd realized she’d given them another reason to count. Always happy to have their voices heard, they started tolling off the count. ‘FOUR… FIVE…. SIX… SEVEN… EIGHT… NINE… TEN… ELEVEN… TWELVE… THIRTEEN!’
The Fair & Radiant Maiden came to a stop on her stomach and pushed up on her hands to add a little more leverage to the Scissors, which were still snared tight around Olivia’s waist. Speaking of whom, the former World Champ was stacked high and tight on her shoulders with both legs thrown over her head in a Matchbook. Not so out of it that she didn’t recognize the trouble, Dare squirmed as best she could while Carpenter dropped to one knee to count…
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!
Lenore pounded a fist against the mat in time with the bell, but the fans were quick to note that she didn’t release the Scissors until the Announcer called, “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner via pin-fall… LENORE LEMARCHAND!
Finally unhooking her ankles, she slid away from the blonde, who slopped onto one side and curled up around her aching ribs. Knowing she’d do the same sooner than later, Lemarchand fought off the pain long enough to stand and offer her wrist to Al, who said, “Congratulations, Lenore. That was a gutsy win.”
“Thank you.” she said once her hand had been properly raised.” If you’ll excuse me, I need to speak with my opponent.”
The ref wasn’t sure if that was the best idea, alas Lenore didn’t give him much choice, so he hung back and kept a watchful eye as the Courtier trudged over to her recovering foe. As of yet unaware of the American’s presence, Olivia struggled to her feet and sucked in a sharp, pained hiss of breath when she found herself nose to nose with Lenore. “Get out of my face, Lenore.” she said very softly.
Lemarchand didn’t move. “I could’ve injured you very badly tonight and I would’ve been perfectly justified because you were too proud to submit to my legs. The least you can do is shake my hand.”
Much as it disgusted her from time to time, Dare had a code she wrestled by. That was only reason she took Lenore’s proffered hand. When she’d dropped it, the Blackbird repeated, “Now get out of my face, Lenore.”
The Raven didn’t so much as twitch and she didn’t plan on doing so until she saw the slightest trace of deference on her opponent’s face. Voice low, she murmured, “You want out of this ring, sweet girl? All you’ve got to do is back off and walk away.”
Olivia surged forward and then they were nose to nose, blonde and brunette locked in a blistering staredown while the crowd and Carpenter looked on in nervous silence. Oblivious to all of this, Dare ground her forehead against Lemarchand’s, furiously willing the other woman to acquiesce to her demand. “I gave you what you wanted, luv. Now I repeat. Get. Out. Of. My. Face.”
Lenore held her ground, she meant to have the Storm’s respect even if she had to slap it out of her. That’s why she said, “Losers step aside for winners, Olivia. Not the other way around.”
“But whores do step aside for ladies.” Dare snapped without even thinking about it.”
Lenore’s dark eyes went hard and cold. Then she nodded almost imperceptibly. “Thank you for letting me know where we stand, Olivia. Allow me to repay the favor with a small token of my esteem.”
Olivia steeled her tummy for the Kneelift she knew was coming only to gasp when Lenore kissed the tip of her nose.
It wasn’t until later that the fans knew what’d set Olivia off. Wasn’t until that next morning when Joanna Coleman posted an article on the FAWN News Scroll explaining that ‘the goodnight kiss’ as it was known in European AHW circles, was an old, voiceless way for a seasoned veteran to commend an ingénue on a spirited, albeit unsuccessful outing. It was in short, a way for one woman to tell another she wasn’t on her level. Such treatment was considered humiliation enough in front of a dozen jet setters, but Lenore had given Olivia her goodnight kiss for the whole world to see.
The resulting brawl was both intensely violent and eerily quiet.
Dare took Lemarchand to the canvas with a short range Spear and managed to straddle her for all of three punches before the brunette rolled her off and climbed into a mount of her own. Control was swapped more than a dozen times in a very short period, in fact it was probably more accurate to say that neither was in control, they simply slapped, pulled, clawed, punched and scratched until Carpenter and half a dozen other black & whites succeeded in pulling them apart. Swarmed by the zebras, Olivia was dragged under the bottom rope while Lenore was herded to the far side of the ring. It was only when the growing distance between them quashed any chance of resumed violence did the women resort to their voices.
“I HOPE YOU MAKE THE MOST OF MARCH, LENORE!” Olivia roared. “BECAUSE AT SPRING BREAK I’M PUTTING MY FOOT ON YOUR THROAT! YOU HEAR ME, RAVEN? MY FOOT! YOUR THROAT! THEE END!”
“WHY WAIT, SWEET GIRL?” Lenore bellowed right back. “YOU WANT TO SETTLE THIS NOW? I’LL MEET YOU IN THE FAHKING PARKING LOT! ANYTIME! ANYWHERE! I CAN’T WAIT TO FINISH OFF YOUR DOUGHY LITTLE BELLY!”
That little slander actually got Olivia away from the officials but they ended the jailbreak in just a few steps and hauled the cursing Englishwoman through the curtain shortly thereafter.
Relaxing only when Olivia was out of sight, Lenore shook loose of her captors and stamped a furious little circle around the ring. Eventually she found the proper words for her anger and she mounted the nearest corner to deliver a message. “I hope you enjoyed your win in December, Olivia. I hope you liked the feel of my breath on the back of your neck tonight. And I really hope you like the view of my ass when I start to run away with this thing at Spring Break. See you in April, sweet girl.”
Kula Shaker’s ‘Hush’ hit the speakers and dozens of handmade ’Ravens’ went up, a subtle yet undeniable testament to talent of Emily’s Lady in Waiting. Those same supporters cheered aloud when the Fair & Radiant Maiden flitted through the curtain shortly thereafter. “A little bit louder than last time,” she noted to the nearest camera. “Let that be a lesson. Cream may rise to the top, but a raven knows no bounds.” Hooking her thumbs together, the slender brunette raised the sigil herself, then snapped it apart and started down the aisle.
LENORE LEMARCHAND:
For the second battle in this five part war, Lemarchand wore deep purple boy-cut trunks and matching halter-style bikini top. Her elbow and kneepads were matte black, though the presence of the latter was mere conjecture as they were covered by bell-flared 'leggings' that started just south of mid-thigh and dropped to ankle length. The look was finished with shiny black boots and purple wrist tape that matched her togs.
Paying no attention to the Storm Chasers and other examples of bad taste that dared boo her, Lenore only paused her advance to recognize a single sign holder. “You know why I’m stopping?” she asked the pleased, but clearly cautious fan. He thought about it for a moment. “Because the sign says ’quoth’ the Raven and not ’quote’ the Raven?” She gifted him the tiniest of nods. “Here’s to paying attention in English.” Turning away with a sly wink, the limber brunette strode her way to the base of the steps, took them in a blur and sprang over the top rope. One more Raven went up when she reached the middle of the squared circle, then went down when her music faded away.
The time for talk was over. There was a Storm on the horizon.
“And introducing her opponent, hailing from Richmond, England, she stands at five feet seven inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and fifteen pounds. She is the Oncoming Storm, this is… OLIVIA DARE!"
Everyone who hadn’t cheered Lemarchand (and a great deal that had) let loose an appropriately thunderous cheer as when the sound system offered up the languid, somehow dangerous drumbeat of Hooverphonic’s ‘2Wicky’. That manmade thunder crashed all the louder when the former FAWN World Champion appeared atop the stage to salute the faithful with an index finger raised high overhead.
OLIVIA DARE:
Tonight the Daredevil wore a pair of stormy black bikini briefs edged with silver trim and cut high enough to give the throng a tantalizing view of her sculpted hips, thighs and calves. Her equally exquisite midriff sheathed in a matching black bustier and the rest of her ensemble was finished with short black wrestling shoes and silver knee and elbow pads.
More than ready to put Lenore in a nigh insurmountable 0-2 hole, Olivia started down and would’ve been there a few seconds earlier if she hadn’t stopped to appreciate a sign that read:
RAVEN + LIGHTNING = 0-5
DARE TO BELIEVE!
“Oh, I don’t just believe,” Dare said with a supremely confident smile, “I know.” Thanking the fan with a effortlessly delivered selfie, Olivia pulled away and made her way up the steps while making sure to meet Lenore’s gaze.
She held it for several seconds, then opened her mouth to say something only to swing around and drape her arms over the top rope. Smirking even wider because of the holes she felt burning in the back of her head, Olivia dipped her knees and tumbled back to land on her feet with barely a whisper. Unable to ignore the lure of a staredown any longer, Dare rounded on the American and stalked in just close enough to make referee Al Carpenter nervous. “You bored of this match yet, Al?” Olivia asked without taking her eyes from Lemarchand.
Al shook his head ‘no’. “Not even sort of, Olivia.”
Dare nodded. “Me neither. Even if I do know how it’s going to end.”
Lenore’s eyes narrowed, but she said nothing.
Confident the Raven wouldn’t be so gauche as to attack before the bell, Olivia turned her back without fear and went to the far corner. Lenore mirrored her shortly thereafter, an impressive response considering the urge to plant her boot in Dare’s ass was nothing short of maddening.
Many of the fans in attendance tonight had been there at Season’s Beatings as well and when the bell sounded it occurred to them that this didn’t seen like a new skirmish. Rather it felt like the second fall in what had already been an epic battle.
Lenore, who’d been pacing the bowels of the Court’s clubhouse like a caged lioness for the better part of two weeks, came off the buckles and went straight for the woman who’d defeated her in December.
Olivia watched her approach and thought it might be fun to dip through the ropes, thus forcing the American to ‘slow her roll’, as the kids liked to say. Amusing though it might have been, she dismissed it almost at once. Paltry mind games weren’t nearly as enticing as the prospect of jumping out to a two-nothing lead. So Dare started at her brunette just as quickly, though she did so on a wide curve to make sure Lenore couldn’t force her against the buckles.
Tension grew as distance waned and a good portion of the crowd sucked in a breath in anticipation of the Bytch Slap they were certain would soon split the air. Lemarchand did indeed extend a hand, or in this case a fist. Not a punch either, but for a simple tap of knuckles, which Olivia returned at once. Pleasantries thus dispensed, blonde and brunette lunged in a Collar & Elbow Tie-up that brought their tummies together with a SMACK louder than any mere slap. There was no feeling out process this time, just straight ahead aggression as the rivals sought to impose will. Control was measured in forward progress, the loss thereof by how many steps they ceded when the other woman forced them to give ground.
The first clench lasted ten seconds, the second went eighteen and the third, which featured both ladies skidding along the ropes and bouncing off corners went a full thirty-five seconds. Neither was able to seize anything resembling control however and after the last breakaway, Olivia shook her head and muttered, “Sod this.” Louder, and to Lenore, she said, “You want to settle who’s stronger, pretty bird? This should do it.” The lithesome Briton raised her right hand overhead, a challenge which earned a loud cheer from the FAWNatics.
Lenore stepped forward, lifted a hand, then held up an index finger. “Hold that thought, ‘Liv. I need a mic.” Sure enough she turned her back on Dare and moved quickly to the edge of the ring.
“Mmmmmmh, Lenore?” Al called after her. “Ya know the match is live, right?”
“Not an idiot, Carpenter, but--” One of the techs handed her a microphone, allowing Lemarchand to finish her thought for the rest of the class. “But everyone needs to hear this.” She shifted her attention to Olivia and went on. “I’ve gotta be honest, you and I don’t make for the most compelling arm wrestling match. None of these people paid to find out whether or not I can bend you into a perfect arch, which, for the record, I can.”
Dare snorted at this, but she otherwise held her tongue as Lenore closed in. “They do have questions though. The kind of pressing issues that are mulled over when they’re alone with their messageboards, Youtube clips and tawdry little bits of fan fiction.” This earned a lascivious cheer from a small, but enthusiastic segment of those assembled and Lenore returned it with a smirk. “Oh yes my friends, I am on to you. You see, I know that you don’t care about who would rise or kneel were Olivia and I to lock hands. What you REALLY want to know is much simpler. Much more… primal.” The Raven was inches from her opponent now and though she continued to speak to the fans, her eyes never left the Blackbird. “You want to know who’s legs are stronger….” she reached out with her free hand and traced a finger up the length of Dare’s left thigh. “You want to know who’s tummy is tighter.” she let her fingers glide along Olivia’s washboard abs and the blonde let her, though she very much wanted to paste a slap on Lemarchand’s mouth. Sensing the overt hostility, Lenore offered her a brazen smile. “I already know the answer, sweet girl. As do you. So why not show the whole world?” With that she raised her free hand and laid it across the back of Dare’s neck.
It wasn’t an invitation to dance, but half a Muy Thai Neck Clasp.
Olivia nodded inwardly. The clever bytch wanted a Clinch Fight right here and now. Suddenly glad she’d spent so much time working on her core this last month, the Englishwoman gripped the wrist that held Lenore’s mic so she could bring it to her lips. “Hope you’ve been keeping up with your crunches, dear heart. Because you’re on.” Dare released the American’s wrist and curled that hand behind Lemarchand’s neck.
Refusing to drop her eyes now that the challenge was accepted, Lenore handed the mic to Al then laced her fingers together to complete the Neck Clasp. “First strike for you, Olivia.” she said softly. “Age before beauty and all that.”
The Oncoming Storm secured her own grip and squeezed the Lenore’s neck ever so gently. “Oh no dear, I must insist you have the honor. Loser’s privilege and all thaHUUUNNNNNGGHHH!”
Lenore buried her left knee in the blonde’s navel, shooting the Brit’s butt back like she’d taken a medicine ball to the gut. Absolutely loving the sound of Dare’s wheezing breath, the Fair & Radiant Maiden hissed, “You know the rules, princess. Five seconds to respond or I go again. Or you could just take a knee now and admit that NNNNGGGGGHHHH!”
Olivia pushed up off her left foot to better bury her right knee in Lemarchand’s midsection. “Better idea,” she huffed, “You take a knee and kiss my arsSSSOOOOOOFFFFHHH!”
Lenore used the clasp to pull the blonde in a little closer before delivering her retaliation. Fighting the urge to dry heave, Olivia put her forehead to the brunette’s and took deep breaths. “Already sucking wind, huh? I would’ve thought you’d be good at GUUUUHHHHHH!”
Dare sacrificed a little bit of power to deliver her second shot just above the waistband of her opponent’s trunks. “I AM good at this, in case you haven’t realized it, luv.” she cooed in Lemarchand’s ear. “Better than you in fact, as everyone but you already knAAAAAGGGGGHH!”
Lenore shifted tactics, delivering her third knee not to Olivia’s tummy, but in above the curve of her left hip. Dare shrieked as the kidney shot lit up her side, it was a sound the Lemarchand enjoyed a great deal. Squeezing her clasp a little tighter, she jostled Olivia’s noggin back n’ forth and growled, “One. Two. Three. Four. FivVERRRRGGH!”
The Briton beat the agreed upon count with a short Double Kneelift that almost doubled her foe over. Such an attack wasn’t entirely copasetic by traditional Clinch Fighting rules, but this wasn’t the sort of venue where one complained of such things. One merely soaked up the hurt or took the knee, it was that simple. Speaking of soaking, Olivia pulled Lenore as close as she could, unashamedly drawing in the shockwaves pouring off the American. Nose to nose with the Raven, she cooed, “One. Two. Three. Four. AAAAAAHHH GAAAAAWWWD YOU BLOODY SKAG!”
Lenore’s left knee swung up n’ around to strike Dare’s right side with a sound like a baseball bat striking wet clay. If there was anything worse than a left hook to the liver, it was a perfectly placed Kneelift to the liver, as evidenced by the way Olivia buckled in the wake of the blow. But Lemarchand couldn’t claim victory just yet however. Rubbery though her legs might have been, Dare’s death-grip across the nape of the brunette’s neck kept her knees off the mat and so the vicious test of endurance rolled on. Dark eyes alight with angry triumph, Lenore kissed the crown of Olivia’s skull before delivering her count. “One. Two. Three. Four. Five!”
THWHUMP!
That Kneelift sent Olivia’s legs flying back and Lemarchand had to stamp forward to keep her balance. The adjustment allowed Dare to do the same, if not much else. Above her, Lenore’s count was merciless. “One. Two. Three. Four. Five!” Her knee shot Olivia’s hips backward and broke her Clasp like wet tissue paper, leaving the former World Champ to collapse like a gut-shot penitent. Pressing a forearm against her own aching abs, Lenore buried her other hand in the Brit’s hair and yanked her head back at a nasty angle. “I’ll only ask once, ‘Liv. Do you give up?”
Dare might’ve been short of breath, but that didn’t stop her from rasping, “Kuuuhhhh…. kiss my arse ya scrawny twat.”
Lemarchand nodded. “Good.” Several strong yanks forced the ailing former champion to stand and a sharp Forearm Smash to the side of the head made sure she offered no protest when the Fair & Radiant Maiden sidled in against her right shoulder. From there Lenore slipped her right arm under Dare’s bicep and palmed the back of her neck to complete the Half Nelson. “You’ve probably already guessed, but I want to be perfectly clear on one thing.” the brunette grabbed hold of the Brit’s waistband with her left hand and pulled her the tiniest bit closer. “My strategy tonight is simple. Stop you to the body.”
‘Body’ was fresh off her lips when Lemarchand drilled her right knee into Olivia’s already tender stomach. Working desperately not to sag, Dare tried to jab an elbow into her attacker’s face, but the Half Nelson kept that arm effectively neutralized. Resigned to cattier tactics, she reached over with her left hand, plunged it into the brunette’s dark locks and pulled until she felt Lemarchand hiss. “Shouldn’t give away your strategy, luv.” she explained through clenched teeth. “Makes it far easier for things to go awrNNNNGGGGGHHH!”
Lenore hit her with a second Kneelift, then a third, fourth, fifth and sixth, the Raven ruthlessly methodical in her attack on the same stretch of tummy. Give Dare credit, she made Lemarchand pay for every shot with some eye-watering hair pulls, alas the give n’ take came to an end when Al Carpenter (who sounded rather guilty, it should be noted) murmured, “Let go of her hair now, Olivia. C’mon, don’t make me cou--”
“Thank you for the concern Al, but I’ve got this.” Lenore interrupted. “Olivia can hold on just as tight as she wants, after all it’s the only thing keeping her on her fetTTRRRGGGHHH!”
Dare raised her right boot and stamped down heel-first on Lenore’s left foot. While not the most savvy counter of her career, she was desperate to curb the other woman’s momentum and she had to admit there was a visceral pleasure in grinding Lemarchand’s toes like a cockroach. “You’re going down a dark road, pretty bird.” Olivia spat as she attacked on two fronts. “Go any farther and you might not be able to come WHOOOAAHGGUUUUFFFHHH!”
Lenore wrenched her foot free of Dare’s mauling, then crouched down and popped up on her toes. The Oncoming Storm rose with her, lifted by the Half Nelson and that wedgie-inducing grip on her waistband. Though Lemarchand could’ve administered any number of slams or face-plants from this position, she chose to return her foe to the mat in the same fashion she’d left it. Only caveat being the Courtier’s right knee, which Lenore pistoned up to meet the Englishwoman’s falling tummy.
Dare doubled over and would’ve collapsed to all fours if Lemarchand hadn’t relinquished her hold on blonde trunks to slip that arm between her thighs. Hoisting Olivia onto her shoulders for a Fireman’s Carry wasn’t hard at all, holding off on more punishment long enough to deliver a message to the FAWNatics, that was the real challenge.
In the end she managed, mostly by focusing in on a sign that read ’Olivia > Lenore’ and bellowing the brunt of her ire at the holder. “OLIVIA’S TOO PROUD TO SUBMIT, SO IF YOU PEOPLE GIVE A DAMN ABOUT HER, YOU’LL BE HER VOICE WHEN THE TIME COMES!”
She didn’t give them time to debate her proposal, choosing instead to toss Dare from her shoulders and drop backward in one smooth motion. Raising her knees to chest level as gravity drew her to the canvas, Lenore guided Olivia into a THWHUMPING tummy-first landing atop her shins, the Double Knee Gutbuster a worthy homage to her mentor and a logical extension of her plan to ruin the Blackbird’s abs. The Englishwoman would never admit to such a dire condition, yet she clearly wasn’t feeling too good as she bounced up n’ off the brunette’s knees before tumbling away.
DOUBLE KNEE GUTBUSTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=kIePV-zZVS4
Lemarchand crawled after her and was in the process of sliding in for a cover when Olivia rolled onto her stomach, either to avoid a pin or another attack on her midsection. It succeeded in the former, failed miserably in the latter. Devoted to her goal with a fanaticism that would’ve impressed Miranda Wainright, Emily’s Lady in Waiting got to her feet, leaned down over the gasping blonde and slipped both arms around her hips. It spoke volumes to the damage already done that Lenore was able to extract a painful wail from her rival merely by bearing down on the Waistlock and even more to the brunette’s deceptive strength when she peeled Olivia off the mat and arched up n’ over to PLANT Dare on the back of her head and shoulders courtesy a Dead-Lift German Suplex. Remembering how dominant Olivia looked when she pinned her with the Inverted Gory Bomb in December, Lemarchand matched the effort with her own bridge through…
DEAD-LIFT GERMAN SUPLEX:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=sxlzBSX11eE
ONE…
TWO…
Olivia pulled loose and immediately rolled toward the edge of the ring for a breather on the outside. She was within inches of sanctuary when Lenore barked, “Don’t you run from me, ‘Liv! Don’t you dare!” The implication that she was fleeing battle stopped the blonde in her tracks. Part of her screamed that it was a trick, a mind game the Courtier would use to continue picking her apart. Dare’s brain knew this was true, yet her heart correctly noted that Lenore had never gone to the outside in their first match, even when she was getting her ass handed to her. ‘And look where it got her!’ the blonde’s mind yammered. ‘Beaten! You BEAT her! But she’s going to BEAT you if you don’t catch your breath!’ “Not bloody likely.” she said very softly. After that, she hooked an arm over the middle rope and used it to haul herself to one knee. Taking her first deep breath in what felt like hours, she winced at the pain but refused to let it out in anything other than a slow, measured whoosh.
Very much aware of Lemarchand’s gaze, she raised her head and met it with no hesitation whatsoever. “You really think I’d run from you, pretty bird?”
“I think I’ve given you the worst beginning to a match you’ve ever had and you don’t know how to deal with it. We both know the kind of wrestler who rolls under the ropes, sweet girl. The kind who’s too embarrassed to admit she just got schooled in front of the whole world.”
Olivia’s cheeks flushed pink, suffering through wedgies, claw holds and smothers was one thing, getting so handily outwrestled was something else entirely and it scalded her pride more than any Face Sit. Clambering to her feet with a stifled groan, she stepped off the ropes and nodded to the Raven. “You’re right, Lenore. You’ve kicked my arse since the opening bell. Would you care to know what I intend to do about it?”
“Do tell.” Lenore answered without a trace of sarcasm.
“I’m going to kick yours until the closing bell sounds. So shut your mouth and step up, little girl. The Oncoming Storm waits for no one.” Dare raised her hands for a clench and started forward. Lemarchand did the same but when she closed to lock-up Olivia twisted into her and TWHAPPED a slashing European Uppercut across her jaw. The American staggered so Dare walked her down and added two more in rapid succession. That got Lenore’s hands up, one of which the former World Champ snatched in a Wristlock. Twisting her foe’s arm in a quick, wide circle, Olivia stepped back and brought her right foot up against the side of the brunette’s face. Then she pushed up and laid out to stuff the Raven’s insolent mouth with a whole lotta Sole Food.
SOLE FOOD:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=gtap5IzhMDo
It was designed more as a stunning blow than a Knock Out shot and that’s exactly what it did, rocking the Courtier back on her heels like she was fighting against a strong wind. Galvanized by the sight of a vulnerable Lenore, Olivia hopped forward, planted on her left foot and THWHACKED the right into the pit of the brunette’s stomach with a sort of low angle Super Kick.
LOW ANGLE SUPER KICK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=O8agYOSErME
Lemarchand doubled over but straightened up shortly thereafter which proved a poor choice as the Blackbird immediately followed with a standard Super Kick that caught Lenore’s chin like a thunderclap. The tingle that ran from her foot all the way to her hip told Dare she’d hit the kick perfectly, but instead of timbering to her back in a glassy-eyed sprawl, the brunette swiveled around in a drunken half circle and crumpled to all fours.
SUPER KICK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=WKT4EEEHiig
Presented with the gift of Lenore’s backside, Olivia actually drew back her right foot with the intention of punting her foe in the arse, but she stopped herself at the last moment. While booting Lenore’s scrawny backside up between her shoulders would’ve been exquisite, it would’ve gone against the gauntlet Lemarchand had tossed at her feet. The Fair & Radiant Maiden had stood nose to nose with her no less than five minutes prior and told the Briton that she was going to stop her to the body. Correction, she’d told Dare there was nothing she could do to stop her. It was the sort of slight Olivia couldn’t let stand, in fact there was only one response that would do and it involved cracking the other woman’s ribs.
To that end she stalked a tight circle around on Lenore’s left side, then spun on her heel and ran the ropes. Forcing herself to move faster despite the pain in her ribs, Dare waited until she was almost on top of the prone battler before hopping up and THWHAPPING both feet into Lemarchand’s ribs.
Caught broadside by the perfectly-placed Dropkick, Lenore went rolling and came to a stop with her knees and cheek pressed against the canvas. Lemarchand was fighting to draw a deep breath when Olivia grabbed her by the hip and shoulder and tugged her onto her back. Fist cocked back behind her ear, Dare drew a bead on the American’s chin and surged down and in to drill an Elbow Smash against her jaw. Lenore flopped out flat so Olivia got to her feet, then bent down and put her hands on Lemarchand’s chest and hips to make sure she didn’t wriggle loose.
Satisfied that the Raven was at least temporarily grounded, the Oncoming Storm busted out a gorgeous vertical leap and pulled her knees all the way to chest-level. Then she started down and Olivia THWHUMPED her heels into the pit of Lemarchand’s stomach, a brutally vengeful Double Stomp that earned a loud cheer from the FAWNatics. Lenore sat up and got pushed right back down when Olivia slid off her perch. Dropping to her knees beside the gasping brunette, Dare stretched out atop Lemarchand’s chest and hooked the far leg for…
ONE…
TWO…
Emily’s Lady In Waiting kicked loose and turned onto one side with her back pointed toward the rallying Englishwoman. Olivia didn’t bother to contest the count, her attention was focused on Lenore and just how she was going to throw the upstart’s challenge in her face. After a moment she worked her fingers into Lemarchand’s hair and hauled her to boot leather. Though the Stormchasers were urging their heroine to take all sorts of gut-churning revenge on her adversary, Olivia held off for the time being. Instead she slipped one arm over Lenore’s shoulder, the other between her thighs and ‘hupped’ the Courtier into place across her chest. Treating Lemarchand’s behind to a companionable pat, Dare set off on a walk around the squared circle.
“I’ve endured a lot of punishment throughout the course of my career, Lenore.” she said once the pain in her own ribs receded to tolerable levels. “Autumn Sammain once kicked my legs so hard I burst into tears on the spot.” Without warning the blonde pushed onto her toes and sank to one knee, all the better to deposit Lemarchand’s ribs across the smooth plank of her thigh. Lenore grunted and squirmed, but Olivia held her tight. Shortly thereafter she rose to her full height and the walk continued. “Cynthia Mitchell once introduced me to her Drop Out on the arena floor. I lost the World Title shortly thereafter and I am ashamed to say I wouldn’t know how that match ended if I hadn’t watched a tape the next morning.” The admission was still quite fresh when Dare dropped down for a second Ribbreaker.
Unpleasantly aware of just how precarious her position would soon become, the Raven crooked her right arm into a ‘V’ and jabbed stubby elbows into her attacker’s side, alas the angle made the blows nothing more than a nuisance, even for Olivia’s aching innards.
Seemingly unconcerned with the brunette’s resistance, Olivia got to her feet. “Portia VanBuren once ground me to climax in the middle of this very ring, as you so cheekily pointed out during our first meeting. (THWHUMP!) Jenny Jacobs has devised more ways to drop me on my head and back than I thought humanly possible. (THWHUMP!) And once upon a time Sydney Deschain bent me into such a knot that the soles of my feet touched the back of my head. (THWHUMP!) I bawled like a toddler with a skinned knee, then spent the next three afternoons in an ice bath to make the pain go away.” (THWHUMP!)
Lenore’s weight was becoming a bit of a chore after half a dozen Ribbreakers, so Olivia stayed on her knee after hitting the latest. “But for all that they’ve done to me, none of those women, bloody hell, NO woman, has ever beaten me to my knees in the first five minutes of a wrestling match. It is a noteworthy accomplishment indeed, though it galls me to say so.”
Lenore’s lips turned up in a pained smile the Brit didn’t see. “First time for everything, isn’t there, sweet girl?”
“Yes there is.” Olivia agreed. “In fact I believe this will be a night of firsts for both of us.”
The cool assurance in Dare’s voice sent a chill down Lemarchand’s spine and she resumed her writhing in hopes of breaking free ahead of whatever Olivia had in mind. Alas, the Daredevil would have her due, as Lenore discovered when the blonde got up and marched her to the nearest corner. Wedging the struggling wrestler back-first between the top and middle turnbuckles, Olivia put a steadying hand on Lemarchand’s hip and another on her shoulder.
“Tonight’s the first night I was ever beaten to my knees. It’s also the first night you cough up blood in front of the world.” Dare buried her left knee in Lenore’s midsection and thus the FAWNatics got their wish as the former World Champion proceeded to brutalize her rival’s tummy with a ruthless volley of machinegun Kneelifts.
A short distance away, Al Carpenter tolled a slow, internal five count to see if Olivia would end the brutality on her own recognizance. The notion proved a pipedream as the official knew it would, so he rushed the corner and tapped Dare on the shoulder. “That’s enough, ‘Liv. The two of you work can work each other over as much as you want as long as it’s out in the middle of the ring.”
Olivia turned to look at him and while her pace slackened, it most certainly did not stop. “The rules dictate that I am entitled to a five second grace period before acquiescing to your request, do they not, Mr. Carpenter?”
“You’re really going to make me?”
“I do believe I am.”
Al obliged her and the Briton stopped working the Kneelifts so she could turn Lemarchand from her side to her back. With the helpless Raven looking into the lights and two full seconds left on the count, Olivia grabbed the top rope in both hands, jumped up and THUMPED both knees into that torched tummy. The force of it knocked Lenore from the corner to the mat in a gagging heap, one which offered minimal protest when Olivia snatched it by ankle and wrist for a brisk draaaaaaaaaaaag to the center of the ring. Dare tossed the limbs aside when there was no chance of her prey getting an assist from the ropes and quickly dropped butt-first onto Lemarchand’s fluttering midsection. Lenore’s legs kicked up as the air rushed out so Olivia hooked ‘em behind the knees and leaned forward into a Matchbook good for…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
Lemarchand popped her hips and rolled into a seat, a shift that also put the Englishwoman’s shoulders to the canvas. Leaning hard against those upturned haunches, the brunette tipped her squirming rival a wink while Carpenter counted…
ONE…
TWO…
Olivia ‘smecked’ her stems against the sides of Lenore’s skull and somersaulted onto her knees, breaking the pin with a full second to spare. Angry at herself for the lapse in defense, the Daredevil scrambled / crawled into place on Lemarchand’s left side and snatched hold of her hair. “I’m through toying with you, pretty bird.” Dare forced the other woman to sit up thanks to a savage tug on her tresses. “It’s time you understood you’re not on my level.”
That pronouncement raised a snarl from Lemarchand even in the depths of her distress. Course it didn’t do her much good when Olivia threaded her legs across the American’s waist and locked her ankles tight. Considering the wicked attention paid to both abdomens up to this point, you’d be excused for thinking Dare’s gams were honed in on Lemarchand’s tummy. You’d also be wrong. Because Olivia’s Scissors were located much farther north, her left leg wedged down atop the modest swell of Lenore’s chest while her right leg was braced just beneath the younger battler’s shoulders. Far from a miscalculation, this particular hold allowed the blonde to keep her right hand pressed to the mat for additional leverage while her left hand was left to its own wicked devices. Those devices revealed themselves quite plainly when the Oncoming Storm curled that hand into a talon and plunged it into the fertile soil of Lenore’s sweat-dampened midriff.
Already short of breath thanks to the Scissors, Lemarchand sucked in a quick, pained wheeze, but forced herself to exhale very slowly so Dare couldn’t tighten the coil of her thighs. Olivia appreciated the thinking woman’s response, not that it really mattered at this point. The Scissors were only a smokescreen, meant to keep the Raven suitably occupied while Dare’s nails continued to gnaw, chew and otherwise feast on Lenore’s defenseless belly.
Lenore was no fool, she knew she couldn’t let Olivia work her tummy unchecked for much longer, however she also knew it would take far more than brute force or even skillful finesse to escape this trap. Which was why she endured the growing fire in her stomach in favor of slapping and raking at the sleek thigh belted across her tits. Dare winced as welts rose behind Lemarchand’s nails, but frankly she was more irritated by the American’s lack of reaction to the Belly Claw. Ignoring the faint cramp in her fingers to work it that much harder, she flipped hair out of her face and asked, “Sure that’s the best use of your time, luv? Seems I’m about to bore through that tummy you’re so proud of.”
“Are you clawing me? I hadn’t noticed.” Lenore answered without ever taking her attention of Dare’s Scissors.
An unexpected fury welled up in the blonde’s heart, one she sated by abandoning the claw to reach over and CRAAAKING the Yank’s cheek. Mashing her cheeks between thumb and forefinger, the former FAWN World Champion growled, “I’ve had just about enough disrespect, you grotty little wankEERROOOWW!”
The Fair & Radiant Maiden twisted loose of Olivia’s fish face and promptly sank her teeth into the soft flesh at the base of the blonde’s thumb. Biting wasn’t legal, as Al was about to point out when Lenore spat out her mouthful o’ Brit and placed both hands on Dare’s left thigh. A single violent shove moved the Scissors from her chest to her hips, which struck most of the FAWNatics as a questionable decision until Lemarchand twisted a quarter circle to face off with her attacker.
“Truuuu… trust me… sweet girl.” Lenore’d wrapped her arms around the blonde’s knees and was in the process of struggling to her own. “If I wanted to disrespect you, I would.” Olivia reached for her with both hands but the Courtier pulled back, meaning the Blackbird was justified in pouring everything she had into the Scissors. Lemarchand shrieked so harshly that the ref almost signaled for the bell without asking for a surrender. That would’ve been a poor decision because Lenore was shaking her head furiously ‘no’ and even more important, she’d regained her feet despite the encroaching gams.
Dare felt a distinct tingle of unease race up her spine despite the clear anguish on her opponent’s face. Strong as they were, Scissors weren’t nearly as useful when-- “ Bloody hell!” she spat. “Don’t even think about swinging me LenAAAHHHH!”
She thought about it.
Lemarchand hoisted her blonde a few inches off the canvas and started to spin in a circle, slowly at first, then faster and faster until Dare’s world was nothing more than a whistling blur. Desperate to escape the impromptu Giant Swing before Lenore could send her flying, Olivia laced her hands behind her head and slooooooooowly pulled herself up in a sort of hanging crunch that would’ve been loads less painful if Lenore hadn’t tortured her stomach all night. Forcing herself to gut it out, Olivia drew up almost face to face with the brunette and reached for “NNNGGGHH!”
The Raven slammed a Headbutt between her eyes, then let loose of Dare’s right leg, trusting that the Englishwoman’s instinct to maintain the Scissors could be used against her. In this she was correct, Olivia never thought to loosen her grip even when Lenore hooked an arm over her head to secure a Front Facelock. With Dare cradled up but good, Lemarchand abruptly hit the brakes and laid out on her back to THWHUNK her foe’s skull into the mat courtesy a Cradle DDT. The high speed meeting of head and canvas finally popped the lock on Lenore’s waist, leaving her sucking in great tearing breaths while Dare flopped onto one side with both arms wrapped around her noggin.
CRADLE DDT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=kH1SBqcUi4s
It took Lemarchand nearly twenty seconds to resume something like normal respiration, thankfully Olivia had only struggled to all fours at that point. “So you’re worried about disrespect, are you?” the brunette huffed, her breath blowing out the sweat-soaked hair that hung in front of her face. “Then let me give you something that’ll really keep you awake at night.”
Working a hand into matted, golden locks, Lenore got to her feet and set off on a circuit of the ring. Too woozy to realize her predicament, Dare trailed behind the Fair & Radiant Maiden like a long-suffering pet until they drew to a stop in front of the ropes facing the ramp. Still in control of the Brit’s hair, Lemarchand strengthened her grip with a handful of waistband and used both to haul her opponent to boot-leather. Not all the way though, as Olivia was only three-quarters upright when the vindictive brunette forced her torso between the top and middle ropes. After that it was easy to hook Dare’s arms over the uppermost strand, leaving her hung out to dry in a very bad part of town.
Fearful of what the Raven could accomplish from such a position, the crowd pleaded for mercy, then got downright uneasy when Lenore stepped out onto the apron. Her right hand found Olivia’s hair again and she wrenched her head back, all the better to look the blonde in the eye. “If I didn’t respect you, I’d make you WATCH everything I’m about to do.” she pulled up, forcing Dare to take a look at the vastness of the FAWN’tron. “But I DO respect you, sweet girl. Even if you don’t respect me. So I’m not going to make you watch. You’re just gonna hang here until the respect comes naturally.”
True to her word, Emily’s Lady in Waiting let loose of Olivia’s hair and let her head drop. With Dare’s chin pressed in just above the modest swell of her cleavage. Lemarchand pulled back her right knee, then pistoned it up to THWHUMP! Dare’s exposed stomach. Olivia jolted in the wake of the blow, but Lenore’s clever rope trick meant couldn’t even fall down, let alone pull away. Nodding her satisfaction with the tactic, the American went back to Olivia’s hair, all the better to minimize the flailing while she THWHUMPED a second Kneelift home. Then a third. And a fourth. And a fifth. And eight more, a full baker’s dozen delivered to the former World Champion’s washboard abdominals before Carpenter finally tapped Lemarchand on the shoulder.
“Get her out of the ropes, Lenore. I want this back in the ring, understood?”
Lenore raked a hand through her hair and pressed a forearm to her own roiling gut. “I do. And I will, very shortly.” Al started to protest this egregious spamming of Kneelifts, but the Raven silenced him by taking Dare’s arms off the ropes without so much as another smack Not that it meant a painless extraction, far from it. Lemarchand twisted her burden around so Olivia was looking into the rafters. Her eyes were still adjusting to the glare of the overheads when Lenore cupped both hands across her chin. Tugging the back of the Englishwoman’s head against her left shoulder, she stepped off the apron and dropped to the floor to ‘twang!’ Dare’s spine against the middle strand and BWUNK the back of her head off the apron. Left for dead on Night’s Plutonian Shore, Olivia slopped out of the ropes in slow motion to land in a sweaty, mewling heap at the brunette’s feet.
NIGHT'S PLUTONIAN SHORE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=5RCpxbSGUps
While she doubted Dare’s ability to roust herself before the end of Carpenter’s count, Lemarchand didn’t even consider seeking a count out. To do so and fail would be bad enough, but to do so and succeed would be tantamount to telling the Blackbird she couldn’t get a pin, submission or knockout. That was why grabbed Olivia by togs and tresses and hauled her to verticality before the ref hit ‘FIVE’ on his count. Pulling away from the apron to get a little extra space, Lenore spun her burden in a smooth circle and tossed her under the bottom rope.
Dare stopped a little shy of the center, which was just where Lemarchand wanted her. Moving from floor to apron in a single quick step, the Courtier grabbed the top rope in both hands and leaned back before leaping onto the rubber-coated steel with an agility most tended to forget, Lenore threw herself into a sharp, headfirst somersault that ended with the full weight of her hundred and twenty-three pounds THWHUMPING down atop Olivia’s defenseless belly. Securing a tuff Lateral Press while Dare still quivered with hurt, the brunette hooked the far leg and counted along with Al…
SPRINGBOARD SENTON ATOMICO:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=W3ZeeP2Vq3I
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOO!
The Oncoming Storm proved not quite becalmed as she got a shoulder up with barely half a second to spare. Lenore rocked back on her knees and took several deep breaths, each more painful than she cared to admit. After a moment’s thought she huffed, “Give up, Olivia. You’re risking broken ribs and I want you at your best each time we wrestle.”
Dare wanted nothing more than to turn away and curl up around her tortured middle, but she didn’t for the same reason Lenore didn’t try for the count out. It seemed that both women would rather lose (or at least suffer a great deal) rather than show her opponent weakness. Arms clutched tight across her navel, the Blackbird grunted, “Yuuuhhh… your legs couldn’t pin me in December. They sure as bloody fahk can’t submit me in FebruarNO! AAAAAAHHHHH GAAAAAAHHHHD!”
Angered by the lies, Lenore jerked Olivia to a seat via a double handful of hair and snuggled in on her six. Legs splayed, she slipped them around the Briton’s waist and crossed her ankles. The Scissors were heartbeats away from clamping down when Olivia abandoned the protective swaddling and jammed her elbows into the sides of the brunette’s knees. With her head bowed in concentration and her hands clasped at chest-level, a part of Dare’s mind noted it must’ve looked like she was praying to keep Lemarchand’s legs at bay but she didn’t care what it looked like as long as it did the job.
For a while it did.
The tactic was simple to say the least, but Dare was as good with her elbows as she was with her knees and she used them like an expert to keep the trap from snapping shut. She’d started to entertain ideas of escaping relatively unscathed when Lenore PWAAAKED a Forearm Smash against the nape of her neck. Olivia’s first instinct was to defend, but if she moved her arms the Scissors would have her waist and she couldn’t allow that. So she shook her head and taunted, “I’ve stymied your Scissors with nothing but my elbows, pretty bird. Do you actually think I can’t take the worst your forearms can dish NNNNNGGGGHHH!”
Lemarchand pounded her across the back of the neck again. “Let’s see how you’re doing in twenty seconds, English.” Free to attack on two fronts, Lenore set to work on her foe’s head and shoulders, the Raven just bludgeoning away with a methodical series of Forearm Smashes Dare simply had to endure. Through it all Olivia warded off the American’s gams, her elbow props holding steady even as her neck started to throb like a rotten tooth. She’d just made a microadjustment when Lenore leaned forward and hooked her arms around the blonde’s biceps.
Olivia’s eyes snapped open wide and she shouted, ‘NOOOO NNNGGGGGGHH!”
Lenore ripped her defenses away in a Double Chickenwing and the Scissors bit into her waist with a meaty ‘smeck!’ Basking in the sound of Olivia Dare’s anguish, Lenore leaned back and squeeeeeeeeeeeezed down on the hold, making sure to focus the strongest pressure on her blonde’s floating ribs. “There’s no shame in losing to me, ‘Liv.” she said it loud enough to be heard over Dare’s groans. “Hell, I shook your hand after you flash pinned my ass. Now it’s time you told these people there’s no shame in tapping to my legs!” Lemarchand emphasized the point by bearing down on her opponent’s ribs.
Features flushed bright red, Olivia rolled her shoulders and shook her head ‘no’ neither of which got her any closer to escaping the Courtier’s grip.
Al Carpenter didn’t much like the look on Olivia’s face and wasted no time in telling her so. “You’re not looking good, ‘Liv. It’s time you either got out of this or lived to fight another day. because I’m not going to have them cart you out of here with busted ribs.”
“Listen to him, Olivia.” Lenore spoke up. “I’ve got you in deep. There’s no way out.”
Olivia sucked in the deepest breath she could, then rasped, “That’s where you’re wrong, pretty bird. There’s always a waaaauuuuunnnngghhhhh…. way out. And there is shame in losing… losing to you. Because you’re just not as good as I am.”
Lemarchand’s expression of intense determination blossomed into one of truly volcanic anger. She fed this anger with her strongest constriction yet, one so powerful it made Olivia throw her head back and scream like a banshee. The Raven gave very brief consideration to squeezing until she felt something snap, but in the end held back. Breaking Dare’s ribs might get her a submission in the record books, but if it didn’t come from the blonde’s lips or hand, Lenore knew it wouldn’t count. Just as important, any broken bones meant a mandatory ten week recovery period from FAWN brass, meaning the stubborn bytch wouldn’t be cleared to wrestle by the time Spring Break rolled around. Resting heavily on her palms, (she’d kept her tush elevated to keep the pressure steady) Lenore Lemarchand did something that was almost unheard of throughout her career so far.
“One more chance, ‘Liv. Tap out. On my thigh or the canvas, it doesn’t matter to me, but you’re going to tap out. Because if you don’t I’ll give you something to be ashamed of.”
The threat curdled the Englishwoman’s blood but it also tempered her legendary resolve. After several seconds of tense silence, she replied, “If I could see your face I’d spit in it.”
Lenore swallowed the furious lump in her throat and nodded. “So be it.”
Dare grimaced, then jabbed an angry elbow into the meat of her attacker’s thigh. “Would you please just shut your bloody gob and fiGHHWHOOOAAAAAAHHHH!”
Lemarchand leaned right then torqued left, throwing the both of them into a roll that put the brunette on her tummy and the blonde on her back. Carpenter would’ve swooped in to make the count then and there if the Raven had come to a stop but it seemed her journey was just getting started. Because Lenore kept right on going, tumbling back n’ forth between her tummy ‘n tush while Dare was rolled head over heels. The FAWNatics recognized it as an old staple of Shea London’s offense and a more gam-centric take on Babe Babcock’s Whirlpool Pin, yet those ladies only went through two or three full rotations, if that. Lenore on the other hand was through three and into the fourth before the crowd realized she’d given them another reason to count. Always happy to have their voices heard, they started tolling off the count. ‘FOUR… FIVE…. SIX… SEVEN… EIGHT… NINE… TEN… ELEVEN… TWELVE… THIRTEEN!’
The Fair & Radiant Maiden came to a stop on her stomach and pushed up on her hands to add a little more leverage to the Scissors, which were still snared tight around Olivia’s waist. Speaking of whom, the former World Champ was stacked high and tight on her shoulders with both legs thrown over her head in a Matchbook. Not so out of it that she didn’t recognize the trouble, Dare squirmed as best she could while Carpenter dropped to one knee to count…
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!
Lenore pounded a fist against the mat in time with the bell, but the fans were quick to note that she didn’t release the Scissors until the Announcer called, “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner via pin-fall… LENORE LEMARCHAND!
Finally unhooking her ankles, she slid away from the blonde, who slopped onto one side and curled up around her aching ribs. Knowing she’d do the same sooner than later, Lemarchand fought off the pain long enough to stand and offer her wrist to Al, who said, “Congratulations, Lenore. That was a gutsy win.”
“Thank you.” she said once her hand had been properly raised.” If you’ll excuse me, I need to speak with my opponent.”
The ref wasn’t sure if that was the best idea, alas Lenore didn’t give him much choice, so he hung back and kept a watchful eye as the Courtier trudged over to her recovering foe. As of yet unaware of the American’s presence, Olivia struggled to her feet and sucked in a sharp, pained hiss of breath when she found herself nose to nose with Lenore. “Get out of my face, Lenore.” she said very softly.
Lemarchand didn’t move. “I could’ve injured you very badly tonight and I would’ve been perfectly justified because you were too proud to submit to my legs. The least you can do is shake my hand.”
Much as it disgusted her from time to time, Dare had a code she wrestled by. That was only reason she took Lenore’s proffered hand. When she’d dropped it, the Blackbird repeated, “Now get out of my face, Lenore.”
The Raven didn’t so much as twitch and she didn’t plan on doing so until she saw the slightest trace of deference on her opponent’s face. Voice low, she murmured, “You want out of this ring, sweet girl? All you’ve got to do is back off and walk away.”
Olivia surged forward and then they were nose to nose, blonde and brunette locked in a blistering staredown while the crowd and Carpenter looked on in nervous silence. Oblivious to all of this, Dare ground her forehead against Lemarchand’s, furiously willing the other woman to acquiesce to her demand. “I gave you what you wanted, luv. Now I repeat. Get. Out. Of. My. Face.”
Lenore held her ground, she meant to have the Storm’s respect even if she had to slap it out of her. That’s why she said, “Losers step aside for winners, Olivia. Not the other way around.”
“But whores do step aside for ladies.” Dare snapped without even thinking about it.”
Lenore’s dark eyes went hard and cold. Then she nodded almost imperceptibly. “Thank you for letting me know where we stand, Olivia. Allow me to repay the favor with a small token of my esteem.”
Olivia steeled her tummy for the Kneelift she knew was coming only to gasp when Lenore kissed the tip of her nose.
It wasn’t until later that the fans knew what’d set Olivia off. Wasn’t until that next morning when Joanna Coleman posted an article on the FAWN News Scroll explaining that ‘the goodnight kiss’ as it was known in European AHW circles, was an old, voiceless way for a seasoned veteran to commend an ingénue on a spirited, albeit unsuccessful outing. It was in short, a way for one woman to tell another she wasn’t on her level. Such treatment was considered humiliation enough in front of a dozen jet setters, but Lenore had given Olivia her goodnight kiss for the whole world to see.
The resulting brawl was both intensely violent and eerily quiet.
Dare took Lemarchand to the canvas with a short range Spear and managed to straddle her for all of three punches before the brunette rolled her off and climbed into a mount of her own. Control was swapped more than a dozen times in a very short period, in fact it was probably more accurate to say that neither was in control, they simply slapped, pulled, clawed, punched and scratched until Carpenter and half a dozen other black & whites succeeded in pulling them apart. Swarmed by the zebras, Olivia was dragged under the bottom rope while Lenore was herded to the far side of the ring. It was only when the growing distance between them quashed any chance of resumed violence did the women resort to their voices.
“I HOPE YOU MAKE THE MOST OF MARCH, LENORE!” Olivia roared. “BECAUSE AT SPRING BREAK I’M PUTTING MY FOOT ON YOUR THROAT! YOU HEAR ME, RAVEN? MY FOOT! YOUR THROAT! THEE END!”
“WHY WAIT, SWEET GIRL?” Lenore bellowed right back. “YOU WANT TO SETTLE THIS NOW? I’LL MEET YOU IN THE FAHKING PARKING LOT! ANYTIME! ANYWHERE! I CAN’T WAIT TO FINISH OFF YOUR DOUGHY LITTLE BELLY!”
That little slander actually got Olivia away from the officials but they ended the jailbreak in just a few steps and hauled the cursing Englishwoman through the curtain shortly thereafter.
Relaxing only when Olivia was out of sight, Lenore shook loose of her captors and stamped a furious little circle around the ring. Eventually she found the proper words for her anger and she mounted the nearest corner to deliver a message. “I hope you enjoyed your win in December, Olivia. I hope you liked the feel of my breath on the back of your neck tonight. And I really hope you like the view of my ass when I start to run away with this thing at Spring Break. See you in April, sweet girl.”