Post by alyadmirer on Jul 15, 2015 22:31:08 GMT
Ladies and gentlemen,” the Ring Announcer began from his usual position, “the following contest is being broadcast live from ‘Penthouse Row’ in the Madhouse! It is the fourth match in a five match series and will be contested under thee, ahem, ’Death Match’ rules of European Apartment House Wrestling. The only way to win is via referee’s stoppage or to bring her opponent to climax. Now--” the rowdier segment of the FAWN populace let out a boisterous cheer, forcing the Announcer to keep quiet until they got it out of their systems. Several seconds later, he resumed, “Now, if you would direct your attention to the FAWNtron…”
The capacity crowd followed his gaze and were rewarded shortly thereafter when the Summer Swelter logo faded to a view of the large, richly furnished locale that would serve as tonight’s battleground.
Done in the style of England’s infamous Black Swan Hall, the room had thick carpet done in forest green, intricately carved wooden walls with dozens of inlaid cabinets and shelves and three sets of large windows, two of which were covered in heavy gold draperies that probably cost enough to make a De Cyr wince. The third had its drapes tied back, all the better to offer a view of the Madhouse’s back lawn and the woods beyond, not to mention the late June rainstorm that’d been dumping buckets for the last hour. Other furnishings included a pair of foggy blue overstuffed couches pointed at one another with a good distance in between, a matching ottoman and a leather recliner parked not too far from the open window. Partway back on the south wall was a partially open door that presumably led to the master bedroom and another door on the north wall the led to a small den that would’ve been quite familiar with anyone who’d seen a recent U.K exclusive match pitting Chelsea Dagger against Erin Price.
Once the crowd had given the space a proper once over, the Announcer said, “Introducing first, 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!"
OLIVIA DARE:
The door to the master bedroom swung all the way open and Olivia strode into view and earned an immediate cheer from the fans back in Orlando. Eschewing her usual bustier and bottoms combination for something a bit more intimate, the former FAWN World Champion wore a matching pair of crushed velvet bra and panties that shared the exact shade of the lowering thunderheads outside. Her long blonde hair hung loose save for that little bit tucked behind her ears and it seemed to glow brighter than anything in the room. Then Dare smiled and her hair had strong competition. Sauntering over to Al Carpenter (who managed to look quite unflustered despite the presence of a gorgeous, fiercely talented woman in nothing but her underwear) Olivia put her hands on her hips and said, “Thanks for agreeing to call this one, Al. I know the others could handle it, but I think you’re best equipped for what might happen tonight.”
The lanky ref nodded, but there was a frown on his face. “I’ll do my best, Olivia. But you’ll have to--”
The Announcer started in again and Carpenter shut up so as not to contend with him. “And introducing her opponent, representing the Black Court, hailing from Glen Echo, Michigan, she stands five feet seven inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and thirty one pounds, she is the Raven… LENORE LEMARCHAND!”
LENORE LEMARCHAND:
The door to the den creaked open and Lenore padded onto the carpet, her dark eyes already locked on Olivia. For her fourth battle with FAWN’s bendy-backed measuring stick, the brunette wore a strappy bra and equally sturdy panties both in deep, midnight blue. Her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail when she came through the door, but she tugged off the tie and tossed it to the ref as she closed in.
“Good to have you back, Al. Nick’s a good ref, unfortunately he’s a little too willing to let Olivia take punishment.”
Dare opened her mouth, closed it when Carpenter raised a hand. “Happy to be here, Lenore. But like I was going to tell Olivia, my aim is to keep BOTH of you healthy. I don’t care how many fans wanna see you two get all softcore, I’ll stop this match in a heartbeat if I think one of you is in trouble.
“Too late for that, I’m afraid.” Lemarchand answered. “Olivia’s already in trouble.”
“Piss off you grotty little wanker.” Dare snarked pleasantly.
“Why don’t you make me you jealous, whey-faced little slut.”
Olivia stepped forward and Lenore did the same, forcing Carpenter to plant a hand on their tummies to keep them apart. Not enjoying it a fraction as much as the FAWNatics might’ve thought, he said, “Back up now, ladies. If it’s destined to go wrong we can at least start it off right.”
Blonde and brunette did as asked, though it was obvious their reins were one sharp word from snapping to pieces.
Algernon ‘Al’ Carpenter was, despite his vaguely Ichabod Crane meets video store clerk appearance, a very accomplished referee. He’d been calling wrestling matches since he was nineteen and focused almost primarily on women’s bouts since he turned twenty-one. He was oft sought by FAWN stars for high profile matches as he was hard to fool with chicanery and even harder to distract with sex appeal because he was so focused on calling the match that it flew over his head every single time. To put it simply, Al was liked among his peers and the wrestlers because, short of getting hit with a Low Blow or steel chair (both of which he’d endured more than once during the course of his storied career) he did not get rattled. Yet tonight, tucked away in a forgotten little corner of the Mad House that’d been done up to look like the den of some pastoral English land baron (the storm coming in over the forest from the coast helped the illusion immensely) he felt like climbing the walls.
Oh, the official wasn’t afraid of the women who occupied the room, he’d called dozens of matches for both of them, he was however afraid of what they were going to do TO one another. The thumps, bumps, groans, grunts and other assorted noises were bad enough when there was a crowd to muffle the worst of it, but with nothing but the hard patter of rain on glass and the occasional pop from the fire, Al was certain his nerves would be in tatters before the bout was over. He was snapped back to reality by the sound of some tech locking the suite door, to Carpenter it sounded as loud as the tumblers on a bank vault.
“Ladies.” he cleared his throat and began again. “Ladies, you both know the rules to this sort of contest so I won’t bother repeating them now. I will however ask to see your hands and feet, to make sure your nails are trimmed in accordance to the rules. Olivia, I’ll start with you if you don’t mind.”
“Of course not.” Dare pulled her attention from Lenore and offered both hands to the ref, who took them gently. The former FAWN World Champion had elected a clear coat with tiny gold flecks that made her nails gleam and sparkle in the low lighting. While they were far from talons, Carpenter noted that they were just long enough to conform to the rules while adding an unpleasant bite to any grip she might secure. Her toes proved equally well maintained and Al patted an ankle when he was done. “Very good ‘Liv.” She murmured a thanks and stepped back, her attention already honed on the Raven. Soon Al’s was too, though his was far less intense. “May I see your hands, Lenore?”
“You certainly may.” Lemarchand stepped forward with her hands held out and he took them as lightly as he’d done for Olivia. She’d painted her nails in a deep blue, almost an indigo, which immediately reminded him of Jenny. Thinking of her connected both she and Lenore to his buddy Kent Allard, who’d been quietly dating Emily’s Lady in Waiting for the better part of a year. Though he wouldn’t go so far as say he was close with Lenore, he knew Kent was over the moon for her and he would admit that he’d grown to enjoy the sardonic humor Lemarchand showed when socializing far from the FAWN cameras.
The conflict must’ve shown on his face because the Raven asked, “Something wrong, Al?”
Carpenter shook it off and released her hands. “Sorry, lost in thought for a second.” He knelt to check her toes (also painted that deep midnight blue to match her outfit) and it occurred to him that he’d feel like shyt if something bad happened to Lenore on his watch, Al certainly didn’t want Kent to endure the rough patch he’d traveled after Jenny’s injury. Not that he wanted anything to happen to Olivia either, he’d called her first stateside match for WOLF almost ten years ago now and they’d been good friends ever since.
The ref closed his eyes, took a deep breath and let it out silently. Then he got to his feet and positioned himself between blonde and brunette. “We’re all set to begin.” he said. They made a move toward one another, stopped when he raised a hand. “But seeing as how you both asked me to call this match, I’d like to take a moment to remind you of something, assuming my opinion carries any weight in a room like this.” They looked at him expectantly and Al felt more pressure than ever. “I understand what you’re fighting for. I understand why you’re fighting for it and I even understand why you think you have to fight for it this way. What I want YOU to understand is that FAWN is more than big enough to accommodate the both of you, it would indeed be much diminished were it to find itself short a Blackbird or a Raven. To be blunt, I have two healthy friends in this room right now. I want two healthy friends when the match is over. Have I made myself clear?”
Olivia nodded. “I will do everything I can to honor that request, Al. But I make no promises. The stakes are too high to be bound by a promise, even one to a friend.”
Carpenter made no comment, he only looked to Lenore, who took a moment to respond. It’d been the first time Kent’s best pal had used the ’F-word’ in regards to herself and it was both a relief and startling. “Olivia made this challenge and I have every intention of answering it with all the force required. I am ALSO going to get the handshake I should’ve had at Spring Break. Make no mistake about it, ‘Liv. I’ll earn your respect, even if I have to beat it out of you. But I won’t ruin you. If I did I couldn’t end this at four and one in August.”
Dare managed to respond quietly even though her eyes tossed fountains of sparks. “You’ve pinned my shoulders twice, Lenore. You’ll have to be content with that. Now if you’re through yammering, perhaps we can begin?”
Al stepped back without a word, he was more than willing to give them all the space they needed.
Lenore’s lips curled up in a faint, challenging smile. She raised one hand and said, “Whenever you’re ready, sweet girl.”
Olivia only shook her head ‘no’. “Not that way, dear. This venue and this stipulation requires another sort of Test” the Englishwoman waited a beat. “If you’re up to it, of course.”
Lenore refrained from snorting in derision, if only barely. “Set the pace, Dare. I’ll match you step for step.”
Olivia strode over, lifted one hand and ran it deep into Lemarchand’s hair before curling her fingers into a fist. Lenore raised both hands but Olivia stopped her. “Only one, dear.”
The American did as bade, helping herself to a large handful of hair just behind her opponent’s left ear. “And these?” she raised her free hand and twiddled fingers at Olivia.
“A grip of another sort.” Dare curled her hand into a cup and laid it atop the swell of Lenore’s left breast. Smiling at the slight narrowing of her foe’s eyes, Olivia purred, “Or we can double up on the hair-holds if this makes you uncomfortable. Not everyone’s cut out for the European style of--”
Lenore set her hand atop Dare’s right breast and squeezed just enough to let the blonde feel her nails. “Like I said, step for step. Bring it on, ‘Livvvvrrrrggghhhhhh.”
Olivia pulled with one hand and crushed with the other, forcing Lenore to do the same. Heads tilted to one side by the pull, the pair of women remained almost frozen as they worked their respective holds. Treating her rival’s hair to several sharp little tugs, Olivia suddenly jerked it other the way, which put a painful kink in Lenore’s neck. “Hope you used strengthening conditioner this morning, dearie.” she chirped. “Otherwise you’re going to have a rather patchy ggggggrrrrrrraaaaaahhhhh!”
Lemarchand jerked the blonde’s noggin forward and backward, she looked like someone shaking up a Coke can for some unpleasant practical joke. “I’d worry about your own roots, ‘Liv. Tell me, is it stress that makes them dark or have you started aaaaaaahhhh bytch!”
Dare twisted her squeezin’ wrist sideways and started kneading like she had a handful of wet clay instead of a whole lotta angry brunette. Lenore frowned, then hissed when Olivia abruptly surged into her, forcing the American to give ground for fear of losing her balance. “Of course you wanted a breast grip.” Lemarchand sniped. “Hard to lose something you’ve never had, right ‘Liv?” she dug in with her nails, a pretty good impression of a woman trying to crush an apple with her bare hands, if Dare’s face was any indicator.
“Right, because I’ve got such an insurmountable advantage.” Olivia scoffed when she’d bit back the worst of the hurt. “I forgot you and Pandora are always swapping tops.”
“Not tops. Just stories about the fun we’ve had putting British tramps on their backsserrrrgggggghhhh aaaahhhh bytch!”
The blonde worked her thumb beneath the underside of Lenore’s cup and really dug into the now defenseless bounty. “Watch your tone, twat, or you’ll discover how out of your depth you are that much quickerOOOOHH GRRRGGGHHHHH… “ The Oncoming Storm clenched the pain behind her teeth, not that it did anything to keep Lemarchand’s thumb and forefinger from twisting her nipple like a radio dial. Finding her words after a few shuddering seconds, Olivia huffed, “Really, dear? I’ve fought bar wenches with tighter grips.”
Lenore only smirked and bore down on the vulnerable flesh. “Uh huh. And did those bar wenches make your eyes water too?”
The question was followed with a hair tug so emphatic it made Dare forget about the merciless grip for all of five seconds. Disgusted by the idea that she was even contemplating releasing either of her grips to better deal with Lenore’s pincer, the blonde bit her bottom lip, sucked in a deep breath and narrowed focus to a nipple grip of her own. Pulling where Lemarchand had twisted, Olivia wrenched the other woman’s head back at a rough angle and growled, “You’d really achieve much better pressure if you didn’t have those unfortunate sausages you call fingeERRRRSSSSHHH OOOOOWWWW YOU WHORE!”
Olivia had refrained from relinquishing her hair grip for fear of breaking a classic European Penthouse rule -- never be the first to break a mutual hold. Apparently Lenore felt no such restriction because she released Dare’s hair without a word and quickly pulled aside a second gray cup to affix her talons to ‘Liv’s other bud.
Sucking wind through clenched teeth, Olivia finally tossed the brunette’s hair aside, but treated her to a parting shot in the form of a stinging SMACK upside the head. Then she went to grab Lenore’s wrists and “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!” The former FAWN World Champion went up on her toes to deal with the pressure when the Raven added a wicked low angle push to her teat torture.
“On your knees, sweet girl.” Lenore commanded. “Right now or I’ll make sure these (she tweaked opposing areola for emphasis) don’t last too much longGEERRHHH!”
Lenore staggered but caught her breath before Olivia sent a second strong pulse through the grip on her crotch. “Don’t you EVER give me orders.” Dare snarled as she went to work on American undercarriage. “Otherwise I’ll destroy this festering trench you call a FAAAAAAAAHHH!”
Straining to maintain her own torture against the Englishwoman’s nauseating grip, Lemarchand twisted her wrists again while simultaneously pulling Olivia’s bounty in opposite directions. “I said on your knees or I’ll take these with me right hhhooooffhhNNGH!”
Olivia finally abandoned her hold on the brunette’s hair to deliver a savage, eye-watering overhand SLAP to Lemarchand’s nose. Then she angled that forearm under the Yank’s chin and surged forward until her foe bounced against the living room wall. Crotch claw still in place, Dare didn’t bother trying to get under the bottoms yet, she did however lean all her weight into the Forearm snugged so tight to Lenore’s windpipe. Smiling as Lenore’s talons started to weaken with oxygen deprivation, Olivia blew a taunting breeze in her face and sneered, “Get one thing straight right now, skag. This is MY domain. Within these walls MY word is gospel. And if I say that THIS,” she raaaaaaaaaaaked her nails over the dimly-limned outlines of Lenore’s womanhood, “is a festering trench, then by God and all the Saints you will acknowledge it as suHHHEERRGGHH OH NO YOU DON’T!”
Lenore tossed aside both pinchers for a double fistful of blonde hair, which she used to power her charge off the wall. Didn’t get too far though, Dare’s control over gullet and groin meant the Black Courtier THWUMPED back to start only a few seconds after the jailbreak had begun. Pressed in almost nose to nose now, the Oncoming Storm ground her arm back and forth against Lenore’s neck to further restrict her breathing. Just as concerning, Olivia stopped fiddling with the above the trunks grip and slipped her claw under that dark blue waistband to attack her opponent’s center unhindered.
“Perhaps my earlier assessment was a bit harsh.” Dare cooed. She wasn’t actively seeking la petite mort at the moment, not that it was much comfort to Lenore with a handful of darning needles applied so intimately. “This isn’t a festering trench. It’s more of a glacial chasm, uncharted by even the bravest of explorers.”
“OH F*CK YOU!” Lenore rasped. She’d divided her attention between the stranglehold on her throat and the talon at her groin and had thus succeeded in dislodging neither.
Olivia ‘tsk-tsk’ed’ and kissed the tip of Lenore’s nose, a small, yet important bit of humiliation she’d been wanting to avenge for quite some time. “No need for anger, dear heart. I know the cold is almost unbearable, but don’t you fret. I can generate enough heat to start you thawing and when that ice breaks apart it’ll be with a scream that wakes the ERRRRRHHH NNNNNGGGHH!”
Lenore stopped flailing for release and plunged her hands into Olivia’s hair. Using the blonde’s head as a lead she twisted her hips and reversed their positions, Dare now stuffed against the tastefully decorated wall she’d so recently smudged. A single Kneelift to the Briton’s groin extricated the claw in an instant and while Lemarchand didn’t bother with one of her own, she did indeed wedge her hips against Olivia’s to keep her pinned in place for the time being.
Pressed in forehead on forehead, Lenore murmured, “I don’t need any help bringing the heat, sweet girl. But if I did, I sure as HELL wouldn’t take any advice from a pasty-skinned, mosquito-titted, COLD FISH of a lay like--”
“TWAT!” Dare pushed off the wall so forcefully that Lenore couldn’t stop her. She could however pull back just far enough to raise a knee and stuff it against the Englishwoman’s tummy. Drawing the blonde to her even as she fell backward, the Raven tossed Olivia over her with a makeshift Monkey Flip, then rolled through and landed in a heavy straddle on her foe’s hips.
Delighted by the surprise and rage she saw on Dare’s face, Lemarchand balanced heavily on her left knee, all the better to THUMP the right into the pit of Olivia’s stomach. “Yeah, there’s that sound!” Emily’s Lady in Waiting climbed north until the heavy curve of her backside rested atop Olivia’s modest chest. She reached back with her left hand and smac-smac-SMACKED the prone Lightweight’s ribs. “Can you believe I’d almost forgotten how much I enjoy the sound of your doughy stomach getting pounded?” Lenore pumped a short downward punch into Dare’s abs to emphasize the point.
Aware that she was in a rather dicey spot at the moment, Olivia set her feet and used one hand to protect the spot where she thought Lemarchand might punch next. The other she curled into a cup and applied directly to her rival’s left thigh. “Let me go, pretty bird.” she demanded. “Or I’ll start taking pieces that won’t grow back.”
Lenore grimaced, Dare’s nails were sunk in deep, but the brunette knew she had the advantage and she meant to make sure Dare knew it too. After another few piston-like punches to English tummy, the Raven splayed her fingers into a talon and raaaaaaaaaaaaaaaked from Olivia’s waistband to just south of her breasts. Then she did it again. And again. And again. Half a dozen scorings in all, then she stopped tilling and started planting, her index finger in Dare’s navel to be precise.
Digging in like she meant to take a whole handful, Lemarchand finally met Olivia’s gaze and snarled, “Peck away, Blackbird. We both know I’m going to tear you apart.” She bore down and turned her wrist at a sharp angle, which drew a hiss from the pinned battler.
Painfully aware of how damage to her midsection now could hamstring her efforts later, Dare abandoned her attack on the brunette’s leg in hopes of effecting a quicker escape. A direct assault on the bytch’s crotch would draw a swift retaliation in such a vulnerable position, so rather than tempt such punishment she reached up with both hands and affixed them to Lenore’s breasts. “I’ll do far more than peck, dearest.” she taunted in between squeezes. “I’m going to leave you in a soup of your own sha--”
Lenore didn’t have to use her hands to end the attack on her tits, she simply scooted forward until the fork of her crotch was wedged against Dare’s chin. Doing so pushed Olivia’s arms away and down, they weren’t quite pinned to the deep green carpet but they sure as hell weren’t doing her any good flailing less than six inches above it. Staring daggers at Olivia to see if the Brit actually had the nerve to maintain eye contact in such a vulnerable position, Lenore stopped squeezing but she didn’t extract her index finger from Dare’s navel. Indeed she shifted her hand and pressed straight down, using the digit like a well manicured ice pick to stab at the dense meat beneath.
Free to roam wherever it chose, Lemarchand’s other hand swiped hair off her opponent’s forehead, then ‘walked’ from the tip of her nose all the way up between her eyes and finally grabbed a huge hank of hair. Twisting it in her fingers, Lenore pulled and yanked, pulled and yanked until Dare’s stoic silence cranked beneath the weight of a few angry whimpers. “I have you in a very bad way, Olivia.” the Courtier said softly. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t finish you off right now.”
Give her credit, the Oncoming Storm answered with the confidence of a woman who wasn’t about to be subjected to a pair of Apartment Wrestling’s most painful indignities. “I’ll give you the only reason that matters, luv. Because you f*ucking CAN’TTTMMMPPPHH!”
Lenore slid forward, spread her knees a little bit wider and bore down to make sure she got every bit of her weight behind the crotch on mouth seal. Farther south, she wormed her hand under the blonde’s gray briefs and set to work winning this ‘Death Match’.
Olivia keened. She hated the sound of it, but she couldn’t help it. The American bytch had bested her in back to back wrestling matches and now, in less than ten minutes, she’d secured a potentially series-winning mount. Working desperately not to cry, Dare stopped flailing and planted her feet against the carpet. Then she pushed up and bucked hard, trying to toss the Raven from her perch. Lenore swung forward a ways, but then she squeezed her knees against the side of Olivia’s noggin and reset herself.
“Not good enough, sweet girl.” Lemarchand shook her head ‘no’ and increased the pace of her probing. “This match is gonna end with a bang AND a whimpNNGGGH!” O
livia whipped a leg up and slammed her knee into the curve of Lenore’s lower back. Two more blows connected as solidly as the first, unfortunately whatever good the might’ve done was immediately eclipsed by the pain of Lenore returning to her previous white-knuckle crotch grip. “You’re done, Olivia.” she panted. “Just bite your tongue and this will all be over SOOOOOOHH OOOOWWWW YOU DESPERATE SLUT!”
Olivia was desperate indeed, which was why she fought so hard to get her otherwise useless hands around behind Lemarchand’s back. There she secured a double handful of dark blue waistband and yaaaaaaaaanked it up by a good four to six inches. The wedgie cut sharp and deep, in any other circumstance Lenore would’ve relinquished her attack and created some distance to rearrange her distended togs. But tonight, with a crowning victory so close at hand (no pun intended) she steeled her nerves and held on for dear life.
“One chance, ‘Liv.” the Raven rasped to her partially buried nemesis. “Let go this instant. Or it’s going to get ugly.”
It was hard to give a cogent response with her mouth jammed against the American’s undercarriage, but Olivia managed to make herself understood. A second vile tug on Lenore’s bottoms combined with something that sounded like, “Phhhuukkyooo.”
Lemarchand nodded, then helped herself to a handful of Olivia’s trunks and yanked them up n’ out so violently it earned an audible wince from the usually stone-silent cameraman. Painful as the Inverted Wedgie was (and Dare was half a heartbeat from tapping out, not that it would have done her a lick of good) it might’ve saved Olivia’s life in the series.
Forced to burn precious oxygen in a stifled, humid scream against the brunette’s center, Olivia drew in what little air she could, then actually realized her mouth was open and CHOMPED down on the thin cotton armor of her opponent’s briefs. Lemarchand let loose with a shriek of her own and she scrambled clear of the mount after hanging around just long enough to bounce the back of Dare’s head against the floor. Rolling away the instant she was clear, Olivia didn’t stop until she bumped into one of the overstuffed couches that populated the fighting space.
The Penthouse Tactician in her told the Englishwoman it wasn’t wise to get backed up against any furniture and she sure as hell didn’t want to have her back to the American, but the pain in her nethers was such that she ignored all internal advice so she could tend to the firestorm down below. Blinking back tears, Dare adjusted her abused bottoms, re-sheathed her girls in their cups and finally wiped away the tracks those tears had left on her cheeks. After what seemed like an eternity, she sat up, put a hand on the couch and used it to get to her feet. She felt Lenore’s eyes on her at once and met them without flinching. The Raven stood on the other side of the room, watching her with that same mixture of defiance, disdain and respect that Olivia found so goddamned maddening. “Have I ever told you you fight like a classless gutter slut, pretty bird? Because you do.” Dare said after a deep breath. “But I’ve never let a gutter slut beat me before and I’m sure as hell not about to start tonight. Now it’s my turn to humiliate you.”
Lenore shook her head in disgust. “Don’t you put this on me, Dare. You made the challenge, I just accepted it. I was perfectly content to end this series in the ring, but you and your pride couldn’t bear the thought of losing to me three times in a row so you asked for a change of venue. Now I’m beating you here too and you have no idea what to think.” Lenore paused as an undeniably vicious smile spread across her face. “I take that back. I bet you thought ‘now I know how Lisa feels when she fights me.’ Has that crossed your mind, ‘Liv? Don’t answer, the look on your face tells me everything I need to--”
Olivia came at her with murder in her eyes, the former FAWN World Champ raising her claws to shoulder level for a chance to rend and tear at the Black Court blasphemer. Lenore raised her hands too but great minds really did think alike because instead of locking up they each pivoted on a heel and brought their thigh up in hopes of smashing it against undefended tummy. The THWHAP of thigh on thigh was very loud in the closed space and was in fact still echoing when Olivia reached across with her right hand and raaaaaaaaaaked Lenore’s eyes.
She yipped and grabbed a double handful of Dare’s hair, more to keep herself steady as opposed to simply pulling, though the enthusiasm with which she did so suggested she’d be more than happy to take a few hunks of scalp in trade. Olivia made no move to shake free of Lemarchand’s grip, in fact she went so far as to seize the brunette’s wrists to make sure she couldn’t disengage. Then she drew back her right leg and THWHUMPED the point of her knee deep into the pit of American stomach. Lenore groaned and stumbled, but didn’t yield nearly as much ground as Dare thought she might. Remarkably infuriated by this, she braced on her left heel, spun in and plastered the broad side of her thigh across the same spot.
“OOOOOFFFFHH!” Olivia saw the Courtier’s hips fly back and knew in her heart the Raven was about to collapse from gut-shock. Imagine her surprise then when Lemarchand steadied her balance and retaliated by shaking the blonde’s head back n’ forth as hard as she could. Screaming from rage rather than pain (though the burn in her scalp was far from pleasant) Dare relinquished one of her Wristlocks and slashed that talon across Lenore’s peepers once again.
“Stay off her eyes, Olivia.” Al Carpenter demanded from a safe distance. “You know how I feel about that sort of thing.”
Olivia did, in fact it was only her respect for the official himself (rather than the letter or spirit of the law) that kept her from scraping off the brunette’s face right then and there. The Englishwoman filled her hands with hair to negate further temptation, thankfully the ref has said nothing about her knees and put the right to good use in an alternating series of strikes and smashes aimed solely at Lemarchand’s midsection. This THWHAPPING and THUMPING barrage didn’t end until Lenore sank to her knees and even then the Upstart’s punishment had only just begun. Positively radiant now that she’d avenged a galling slight from their second encounter, Olivia tucked some hair behind her ears, then ran her hands through the Raven’s sweat-damp locks and bent her head back at an unpleasant angle.
“Beaten to your knees, pretty bird.” Dare said with poisonous good humor. “Tell me, how does it feel? Does it feel like your smutty guts are about to un-spool? Does it--”
“I feel like….hhuuuhhhfff…. I feel like,” Lenore’s answer broke off into unpleasant coughing for several seconds before she found herself again. “I bet I feel like you felt when I first put you on your knees four months ago.” She paused for a moment and came up with a smile that could smite a firing squad. “Though I think I’m handling it with more dignity than you ever did. Must kill you to be playing catch-up all the NNNNNGGGGGHH!”
Olivia checked Lenore’s chin on her way to hoisting the knock-kneed Yank to something like verticality. Using the hair-holds to draw her prey in close, Dare slotted a knee between the brunette’s thighs and SHUMPED it flush to her undercarriage once, twice, three times. “I don’t know what sort of garbage Emily has filled your head with,” Dare whispered it in Lemarchand’s ear when the brunette collapsed against her in a woozy clench. “But you WILL learn to respect your betters by the time you leave this GUURRRHHK!”
Lenore’s hands, which had been tending her wounded groin, flew to Olivia’s throat and wrapped around tight. “It’s… not that I don’t… respect my betters…. Olivia.” she rasped to the pink-faced Briton. “I just… haven’t met one yetTTEERRRGGGHHH!”
The Oncoming Storm jabbed a thumb into Lenore’s left eye, then clamped down on a shoulder when the brunette tried to clear off. Working her other hand through Lemarchand’s thighs, Dare scooped her up onto one shoulder and stomped over to the narrow end of the couch. Lined up with the nearest armrest, Olivia pushed onto her toes and tossed Lenore down so that the small of her back WHUMPED against the heavily upholstered wood. T’was a whole lot less painful than getting slammed on a concrete floor or a steel guardrail, but you never would have known it from Lenore’s scream. Or the hellacious way her spine curved around the gentle slope of the armrest.
Palming her foe’s shoulders to make sure she didn’t slide away from the point of impact, Dare smiled down into Lemarchand’s pain-crimped features and said, “Hello there. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Olivia Dare and I am, without question, your better.”
Lenore shook her head ’no’, it seemed to be the only thing she could do that wouldn’t result in more hurt. “You’re not better, ’Liv.” she groaned. “You’re afraid. Afraid I’m going to surpass you in evMMMERRRRPPPHHHHHH!” Olivia stepped forward, wedged Lenore’s head between her thighs, then reached back and snatched hold of her hair to really jam the insolent little troll’s face against her arse.
A little ways off, Al Carpenter let out a low whistle. An Inverted Standing Headscissors was rare enough in the ring, but to see one applied with the whole of Lenore’s upper body hanging off the edge of the couch was simultaneously impressive and unnerving. Not much liking the angle of Lemarchand’s neck at the moment, the ref strode over to the action and raised an index finger when Olivia started to speak. He tapped Lenore’s right knee twice and said, “It’s Al, Lenore. How’s your neck? Can you continue?”
Olivia frowned at him. “Of course she can bloody continue.” she snarled. “And even if she can’t, I’m not finished with her RRRGGHH OOOWWW!”
The Raven’s hands suddenly found purpose in their flailing and gouged deep into the Englishwoman’s glutes. Teeth bared, eyes gleaming, Dare took possession of Lemarchand’s wrists and wrenched them away from her tush with a little hiss of displeasure. Working hard to keep them under control, she looked to Carpenter and asked, “May I continue, sir?”
“Careful of her neck, Olivia.” Al answered without acknowledging his charge’s displeasure. “No one’s leaving this apartment with a neck brace, am I clear?”
“As crystal. I’ve got other ways to make this slattern suffer.” Dare tossed the brunette’s hands clear, joined her own into a single fist and THWHUMPED it into the pit of Lenore’s stomach. The Double Axehandle elicited a shudder so powerful it started the Courtier sliding off the armrest but Olivia grabbed her by the hips and inched forward until it was only her head and shoulders hanging loose of the couch. “Not quite as eye-catching as my first arrangement.” Dare sighed while sending a strong pulse through her sinewy thighs. “But if it keeps Algernon from worrying about your fragile little neck, then so be it. Speaking of fragile, tell me pretty bird, how long can you take this?” She reached down, hooked her fingers under the center of Lemarchand’s top and pulled it up.
Breasts bared to the cool air, Lenore’s hands flew to their aid, alas Olivia swatted them aside and applied a crushing two handed claw. “HHRRRRRPPPMMMPPHHHHH!” Lemarchand kicked her legs, thrashed her hips and gouged her fists into the blonde’s ribs but Olivia had all the leverage, all the pressure and all the vitriol she needed to keep the agonizing Headscissors / Claw cinched in tight.
“I could crush you out right now, bytch.” Dare explained to her wriggling victim. “Of course unconsciousness would make something like this much less entertaining.” she took the American’s buds between thumb and forefinger, then added a twist & pull that had Lenore wailing like a muffled air raid siren. “Do you want to tap out, pretty bird?” Olivia smiled wider than ever as she Lemarchand wailed into her backside. “If you do, tap my arse this instant and I promise I’ll bring you around quickLLEERRRRRRROOWWW FAAAAAHHHKING WITCH!” Lenore stopped trying to wrestle her way out and instead helped herself to two massive handfuls of Dare’s gray briefs. Forced onto tiptoes by the power of Lemarchand’s wicked wedgie, Olivia briefly contemplated breaking her own grip before widening the brunt of her rage to the whole of Lenore’s underrated, under-defended chest. “Let go RIGHT now, pretty bird.” the Brit demanded through clenched teeth. “Or I’ll tear these off, so help me GAAAAAAAHHH!”
Lenore *did* release her foe’s waistband, alas it was only to move her hands around front, where they doubled down and yanked up all over again. Shrieking to beat the devil as her traitorous togs sawed in fore and aft, Olivia finally abandoned the dual claw-grips so she could pwak-pwak-PWAK short, straight punches into the Black Courtier’s fluttering tummy. Half a dozen produced no discernable results so Dare wedged her left hand beneath Lemarchand’s waistband and admitted that dangerous hook to her archrival’s inner sanctum again.
“Pull and tug all you want, tramp!” Olivia demanded while the pumping of her fingers made odd ripples and bulges against the front of Lenore’s bottoms. “It won’t stop the flood from sweeping you awaNNNNGGGGHHH!”
Less than half aware of Dare’s threat, Lemarchand honed in not on the meaning, but the source of those hated words. Drawing a bead as best she could she tensed up and flicked her left leg and flicked her left leg over and back like a Rock-ette who’d had a little too much to drink at the Radio City Christmas Party.
Eyes down to better focus on her attack, Olivia looked up a split second too late and took the brunette’s lower shin square between the eyes. Stunned, she pulled her hand free of its confines and braced both on the American’s tummy to better steady her THWHACK! Lemarchand clouted her with a second kick and Olivia went reeling away toward the more open center of the living room.
Blessedly free of the blonde’s machinations, Lenore twisted onto her belly the instant Olivia sounded the retreat. Every one of her well honed-instincts screamed for the Raven to back off and catch her breath -- she’d NEVER been worked over on a couch in such painfully thorough fashion and she needed some time catch her breath. But pride and rage were in charge at the moment and they weren’t going to be satisfied with anything so polite as a breather. So Lemarchand pushed to a crouch and put one foot on the armrest and braced the other against the closest cushion. For that one moment Al thought she looked eerily like her avian avatar and the illusion was only strengthened when Lenore croaked, “Turn and face me you low class twat.”
Olivia whirled at the sound of the slur and even took a big step forward, which proved disastrous when Emily’s Lady in Waiting launched herself from the perch like a ebon-winger doom. No mere Suicide Dive this, Lemarchand wrapped her arms around Dare’s waist and buried her right shoulder into English belly, all the better to drive her into the carpet with a window-shivering THWHUMP!
Al managed to keep his “Holy Shit.” off-mic, then hurried over to the sprawled bendies and dropped to one knee. ‘Talk to me, ‘Liv!” he demanded. “Can you continue?”
“Don’t even think about stopping us now.” Lenore growled. She’d straddled her prey’s upper thighs and pressed possessive claws into Olivia’s modest chest.
“You might have broken her ribs, Lenore.” the ref explained in his most ‘don’t f*ck with me on this’ tone. “I don’t care how much you two hate each other, I’m not going to see either of you in the hosp--”
“I’m fine, Algernon.” Dare interrupted in a wonderfully gothic horror movie wheeze. “It will take more than this bit of fluff to NNNNNGGGHH!”
Lenore leaned down and in to cuff a brutal Forearm Smash across Dare’s chin. Two more were added for good measure before the Raven twined her fingers in the hurtin’ lovely’s hair. “I promised myself I wouldn’t injure you.” Lenore spat after she’d hauled the both of them to verticality. “Promised that no matter what you said or did, I would make sure you never spent a night in the infirmary on my account.” Over to the couch again, only Lemarchand didn’t spill her burden onto it, she circled around behind, as there was still several feet between it and the darkly-paneled wall. “But you are SORELY testing my resolve, tuff girl. I can see how you thought my first win was a fluke, even though we both knew you were exhausted.” Lenore glued herself to Olivia’s six, coiled her arms around that slender-strong waist and dug in with a Bear Hug. Good as she was, Lemarchand was never going to win fights with this particular maneuver, it did however earn the desired sob of agony from Dare, especially when she gouged her knotted fists into the spot where the Spear hit home.
“But the second time I beat you?” Lenore’s teeth were inches from the Englishwoman’s ear and the feel of it, all hot and angry, made Dare want to scream her hatred for all to hear. “I flattened you out and pinned you CLEAN in the middle of the ring, Olivia! I beat you best two out of three and you couldn’t even shake my goddamned hand! All but called me a whore in front of the whole world! Now I’m beating you at your own game and you still won’t admit what we already know!” Lenore set her feet a little ways apart, bore down on her Waistlock / Bear Hug and hoisted Dare off her feet for constriction that had Olivia mewling with nauseated anguish. Setting the blonde down when her arms started to tire, the Raven leaned her forehead against the back of Olivia’s noggin and murmured, “I used to think this was about proving I could hang with you. Now I’m starting to wonder if it’s actually about you proving you can hang with me.”
Dare went stock-still and only winched when Lenore instinctively squeezed her tighter. “Choose your next words very carefully, Lenore.” she whispered. “They may decide whether or not I ruin you tonight.”
Lenore’s dark eyes narrowed. She’d been in the ring with confident wrestlers before, but Olivia Dare was on a whole new level. “I could crush half a dozen ribs with one more long squeeze, ‘Liv. What makes you think I won’t ruin you first?”
Olivia delivered her response with all the joy of a sadist working a shiv during a prison riot. “Like I told you earlier, you’re not f*ucking good enough, pretty biHAOFH!”
Almost out of her mind with anger, Lenore dropped her hips, then bridged up and back, letting loose at the apex to make sure Dare took the short, savage flight into the back of the couch all by her lonesome.
“GODDAYUM!” Al shouted when the back of Olivia’s head and shoulders THWHUMPED into the solid back of the couch.
Caught in the grip of a scream too large to leave her throat, Dare dropped to a slumped seat and only moaned when the ref knelt beside her. Elsewhere, Lenore Lemarchand rolled to one knee and took her time adjusting both sports bra and briefs. Never letting her eyes leave the slumped wreckage of her foe, the Black Courtier got to her feet and asked, “Is anything broken?”
Carpenter looked like he might say yes just to end the carnage, but in the end he sighed and said, “No. Nothing broken.”
“Then step aside, please. I mean to finish this.”
The official did as bade and when the path was clear Lenore stalked over and forced the Briton up with a double handful of hair. “Just wanted a bit of respect, ‘Liv.” Lemarchand bent over, hooked her hands behind Dare’s left knee and lifted her leg up high enough to drape it over the back of the couch at a rather awkward angle. “But you wouldn’t give it. You were convinced from the very beginning that it must be some sort of elaborate ploy designed to disgrace you in the worst way possible. Well tell me something, Olivia.” Lenore snaked her right arm around Dare’s throat in a snug almost-Sleeper, then curled her left hand into a J and slid it down the back of those gray bottoms to better access opposing undercarriage. “Have you ever heard of a self-fulfilling prophecy? Because this is one of those.”
Olivia sucked in a sharp gasp through her nose but said nothing, choosing instead to dig her nails into the brunette’s forearm in hopes of breaking at least one grip. Lenore stayed silent as well. Though she’d agreed to the stipulation readily enough, she hadn’t utilized this particular, ahem, method, since very early in her junior year back at Miskatonic. It certainly wasn’t her preferred avenue of victory, yet she’d worked it quite effectively in college and it didn’t take long for her to find the proper rhythm. Just like riding a bike and all that.
More disgusted by the idea of Lemarchand closing out the series than the actual feel of claw in her nethers, Dare clamped down on the Black Courtier’s forearm that much harder and when it didn’t free her from the torture she sent one hand south to intercept Lenore’s encroaching wrist. The pace only faltered for a moment before returning stronger than before. Olivia whimpered, hated herself for it, then piled on more self-loathing when she grunted, “Let… let go of me… bytch!”
Lemarchand pulled her noose a little tighter, she and ‘Liv were almost cheek to cheek now. “Not ‘til it’s over, tuff girl. Don’t bother tapping out, it won’t do any gooERRRGGGGHHH!”
The Oncoming Storm abandoned Lenore’s forearm entirely to yank on a savage handful of hair. “I SAID LET GO!” she roared, vaguely wondering if the volume would cover the sound of her panic.
Hissing as the fire spread throughout her scalp, Lenore replied, “Not on your f*cking life, girl. This doesn’t end until you’re screaming my AAAAAAAAHHHHHH SHHYYYYTTT!”
Simultaneously terrified and infuriated by the growing heat in her loins, Olivia’s rapidly weakening fingers worked around to the underside of Lemarchand’s wrist in search of the pressure point that waited there. Finding it, the former FAWN World Champion squeezed with all her might and was rewarded with Lenore’s startled scream. Forgetting all about the Crotch Claw as a bolt of numbing lightning raced from her wrist to her shoulder and back again, the Raven stumbled backward in a stupor with that arm cradled limp against her chest.
Eyes closed in blessed relief, Olivia braced both hands against the top of the couch and pushed up just enough to haul her left leg out of its unpleasant cradle. Her knees came close to buckling as soon as both feet were on the floor, thankfully Dare had the couch to lean against while the worst of the shivers passed. ‘Almost had me,’ she thought with utter revulsion. ‘That smug little trollop almost made me c-’
“Pressure points are illegal in European Penthouse bouts, Olivia.” Lenore snarled from somewhere over one shoulder. “Why don’t you just go ahead and tell the whole world you can’t beat me?”
Dare rounded on her, started forward and was delighted to see the American giving ground. “You’re only half right, pretty bird.” the Englishwoman snapped. “Pressure points aren’t allowed…. IF your opponent can stop you. The same is true for--”
Olivia’s right leg twitched for what could only be a Low Blow and that’s when Lenore’s backpedaling bounced her calves against the low coffee table situated in front of the other overstuffed couch. She didn’t fall, but the surprise of it took Lemarchand’s attention off her opponent for the split-second it took Dare to pounce. Hands crooked into talons, the blonde forced her palms against Lenore’s temples so she could GOUGERAAAAAAAAAAKE her opponent’s eyes with a sadistic modification of the classic AHW Tiger Claw.
Screeching as the world dissolved into sworls and starbursts, Em’s Lady in Waiting lost her balance and started to topple backward only to be saved from an extremely unpleasant landing by Dare herself. “Not going to be that easy, pretty bird.” Olivia explained after setting the brunette on her feet. “When you go through that table, it’s not going to be an accident.”
‘Accident’ was barely off her lips when Dare THWHUMPED a single ruthless Kneelift into her foe’s crotch. Lemarchand shouted in bleary hurt and lurched into a loose clench that Olivia accepted without complaint. Pivoting so that her left shoulder pointed toward the table, the Blackbird hooked her right arm under the American’s left bicep, then reached over with her left hand and grabbed a handful of hair at the nape of Lenore’s neck.
Al had remained silent and out of the way since the German Suplex into the couch, now he started toward them with one hand extended. “Stop right there, ‘Liv. This furniture is period, there’s no give in ohf*ckme.” Carpenter’s sentiment was echoed a thousand-fold at the FAWN arena and elsewhere around the world when Olivia tossed her opponent up, over and down onto the heavy antique table. The one saving grace was the Briton’s grip on Lenore’s hair. That saved the back of her skull from the sickening THWHUD that sent a jolt tearing through the rest of her lithesome frame.
Bounced off the table (which hadn’t even flinched on impact) Lenore flopped over in mid-air and hit the carpet flat on her face, chest and belly. The ref fought clear of his stupor a moment later and moved to check on the twitching Cour-- “BACK OFF, ALGERNON!” Olivia screamed at the top of her lungs. “YOU’LL KNOW WHEN SHE’S FINISHED!”
Frozen by the rage in the usually icy blonde’s voice, Al asked, “Jesus ‘Liv, what’s gotten into you?”
Dare smoothed out her hair, then did the same for her togs. When she answered it was in a more normal tone of voice. “I am merely giving this girl what she’s desired from the very beginning. A taste of me at my very best. It’s hardly my fault that my best is so much worse than she ever imagined.”
That hardly seemed like an adequate explanation for the official but no more was forthcoming from the Blackbird. Indeed she’d already shoveled Lenore onto her back and taken possession of her ankles. Grip secure, she draaaaaaaaagged Lemarchand out into a bare expanse of carpet and tossed her left leg aside. Then she lowered her shoulders, draped the brunette’s right leg across her shoulders (the pit of Lenore’s knee snugged against the back of her neck) and wrapped her arms around it at thigh and ankle.
“Nuuuhhh….. NO!” was the first statement of any coherence from Lemarchand since she hit the table and it didn’t come until Dare had hauled her into an uncomfortable headstand.
“Oh yes my dear.” Olivia cooed. “You wanted my best. My best is what you shall have.” Dare twisted slightly and dropped into a deep crouch that flattened Lenore’s chest against the floor and left the Englishwoman’s buns planted squarely on the back of her victim’s shoulders. Then there was her right leg, which was bent at an ungodly angle across ‘Liv’s shoulders while her left leg flopped uselessly a few feet above the carpet. That wasn’t the worst of it though and Lenore knew it. The worst happened when Dare wormed her left hand beneath the Raven’s blue briefs once again.
“Nnnnnnnngggggaaahhhhhhhh!” Lenore braced both hands and dug in as hard as she could but Olivia’s seat was too high and too firm. Lenore reaaaaaaaaaaaaached for something, ANYTHING, but it all remained stubbornly clear of her questing fingers. Lenore tensed her left leg and tried to drive a heel into the blonde’s face, but her angle was bad and Dare avoided all attempts with little to no effort. Far quicker than she would’ve liked, Lemarchand felt her body (especially her traitorous hips) respond to her tormentor’s attack. Olivia felt it too and she adjusted accordingly, sometimes slowing down, sometimes speeding up but always, always, always maintaining the pressure that made this version of the Oli-Viaticum one of the most feared holds in all of FAWN.
“We can both feel it building, Lenore.” Olivia said near the minute mark. “Don’t fight and it’ll be over that much faster. Feel free to moan a little too. I’m sure Kent’s friends will buy him an extra round when the realize what sort of bullet they dodged with--”
“F*CK YOU, YOU CHEATING BYTCH!” Lenore screamed loud enough to rival the ceaselessly pounding rain. “I SWEAR I’LL GET YOU FOR THISSSSSOOHHHHHHHH NOOOOOOOO STAAAAAAAAAAHHHHPPP FAAAAAAAHHHHHKK!”
The Raven held out longer than most, Olivia couldn’t deny that even if she hated the Yank witch. But one simply did not resist this sort of hold indefinitely and with victory on the horizon Dare drove her questing fingers that much harder and deeper. Chin pressed to the floor, Lenore stuffed her mouth into the crook of one elbow and curled her other arm over the back of her head so no one but Olivia heard her moan or felt her shudder when the climax was torn from her like a living thing.
Far closer to this bit of intimacy than he would’ve liked, Al saw Lenore shiver and immediately flicked a signal to the lone cameraman. Back in the FAWN Arena the bell CLANGED and the Announcer called, “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner via, uummmh, your winner… OLIVIA DARE! The series is now tied at two falls apiece and will be concluded at Fawnamania!”
Olivia pumped the claw a few more times before sliding it loose and slinging the American’s trapped leg from her shoulders. Pushing to her feet, she bent over, rolled Lenore onto her back and wiped the gleaming hook clean on her tummy. A bit disturbed by the strength of her desire to really put a boot to this girl’s throat, Dare quashed the literal urge, but the dagger unsheathed in its place was no less dangerous. “You’ve been squalling about shaking my hand, Lenore. Well here it is. Take it, pretty bird. Look me in the eye while you shake my hand. If you think you can. Go on. I dare you.” She did in fact offer the Raven her hand and of course it was the one she’d used to extract her terrible victory.
Lemarchand remained silent save for her breathing, she’d been so close and to have it ripped away in such a fashion was more than embarrassing, it was heartbreaking.
Pleased with the none too discreet way Lenore’s forearm laid across her face (she was certain the tramp was hiding tears) Olivia snorted and said, “So you won’t shake my hand? Very well then. I’ll offer again after I’ve crushed you in Aug--”
Lenore reached up, took Dare’s hand in her own and squeezed hard enough to make the blonde wince. The Raven’s eyes were gleaming as Olivia suspected they would be, but there was no reticence or shame in them now. Only a vengeful look that Olivia recognized from her own mirror. “Remember this moment, Olivia.” she growled. “Remember this moment when the bell sounds at the end of our next match and the Announcer tells the world that I won our series three falls to two. Remember that when confronted with the most humiliating defeat of my career I still managed to look you in the eye and shake your hand. If you’re as good as you say you are, you’ll be able to the same when I’ve got you on YOUR back.”
Dare tossed the American’s hand away and almost slapped her across the face. Instead she extended an index finger and held it under Lemarchand’s nose. “Don’t even think about playing the wronged heroine with me, luv. Not when you’ve spent the last two years screwing with the heads of any woman unfortunate enough to get in the ring with you. So you want my respect? You want this,” she flattened her hand into a paddle and held it beside the brunette’s face, “extended to you in anything other than the slap you so richly deserve? Then prove you’re not a miserable human being. Do that, and I won’t just shake your hand. Win, lose or draw, I’ll raise it for the whole world to see. But if I find out you are running some sort of game? Pretty bird, what I did to you tonight will be the very least of your concerns.”
Lenore sucked in a deep breath and kept her eyes locked on Dare as she let it out. After a moment she asked, “And just how pray tell, do I prove myself to you, Olivia Dare?”
Olivia shrugged her shoulders ever so slightly. “That is entirely up to you, Lenore. I suggest you start thinking on it quickly, August will be here before you know it.” Through talking, the Englishwoman straightened up and planted a foot on Lemarchand’s tits, an indignity the brunette endured in silence even though it scalded her pride as much as any pain she’d suffered this evening. Olivia left without a word once she’d taken tribute, indeed the whole apartment was silent save for the rain until Al crept over and helped Lenore sit up.
“Can I get you anything, Lenore?”
She shook her head ‘no’. “I don’t think so. Has the bathroom been stocked?”
“Yep. Clean clothes, towels, soap, shampoo, you name it.”
That was good. All she wanted right now was a very hot shower and some solitude. “Thank you. I’ll be ok. Leave the key by the front door and I’ll lock up when I leave.”
All right. I’ll have someone out in the hall just to make sure you don’t get lost on the way back to the main floor. That fine by you?”
“Yeah. Thanks again, Al.”
Carpenter patted her on the shoulder, got to his feet and took his leave.
Alone at the site of her most galling FAWN defeat, Lenore Lemarchand stood up, padded through into the bedroom and went straight to the bathroom. She made sure the door was locked and the water was going as hard as it could before she started to cry.
The capacity crowd followed his gaze and were rewarded shortly thereafter when the Summer Swelter logo faded to a view of the large, richly furnished locale that would serve as tonight’s battleground.
Done in the style of England’s infamous Black Swan Hall, the room had thick carpet done in forest green, intricately carved wooden walls with dozens of inlaid cabinets and shelves and three sets of large windows, two of which were covered in heavy gold draperies that probably cost enough to make a De Cyr wince. The third had its drapes tied back, all the better to offer a view of the Madhouse’s back lawn and the woods beyond, not to mention the late June rainstorm that’d been dumping buckets for the last hour. Other furnishings included a pair of foggy blue overstuffed couches pointed at one another with a good distance in between, a matching ottoman and a leather recliner parked not too far from the open window. Partway back on the south wall was a partially open door that presumably led to the master bedroom and another door on the north wall the led to a small den that would’ve been quite familiar with anyone who’d seen a recent U.K exclusive match pitting Chelsea Dagger against Erin Price.
Once the crowd had given the space a proper once over, the Announcer said, “Introducing first, 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!"
OLIVIA DARE:
The door to the master bedroom swung all the way open and Olivia strode into view and earned an immediate cheer from the fans back in Orlando. Eschewing her usual bustier and bottoms combination for something a bit more intimate, the former FAWN World Champion wore a matching pair of crushed velvet bra and panties that shared the exact shade of the lowering thunderheads outside. Her long blonde hair hung loose save for that little bit tucked behind her ears and it seemed to glow brighter than anything in the room. Then Dare smiled and her hair had strong competition. Sauntering over to Al Carpenter (who managed to look quite unflustered despite the presence of a gorgeous, fiercely talented woman in nothing but her underwear) Olivia put her hands on her hips and said, “Thanks for agreeing to call this one, Al. I know the others could handle it, but I think you’re best equipped for what might happen tonight.”
The lanky ref nodded, but there was a frown on his face. “I’ll do my best, Olivia. But you’ll have to--”
The Announcer started in again and Carpenter shut up so as not to contend with him. “And introducing her opponent, representing the Black Court, hailing from Glen Echo, Michigan, she stands five feet seven inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and thirty one pounds, she is the Raven… LENORE LEMARCHAND!”
LENORE LEMARCHAND:
The door to the den creaked open and Lenore padded onto the carpet, her dark eyes already locked on Olivia. For her fourth battle with FAWN’s bendy-backed measuring stick, the brunette wore a strappy bra and equally sturdy panties both in deep, midnight blue. Her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail when she came through the door, but she tugged off the tie and tossed it to the ref as she closed in.
“Good to have you back, Al. Nick’s a good ref, unfortunately he’s a little too willing to let Olivia take punishment.”
Dare opened her mouth, closed it when Carpenter raised a hand. “Happy to be here, Lenore. But like I was going to tell Olivia, my aim is to keep BOTH of you healthy. I don’t care how many fans wanna see you two get all softcore, I’ll stop this match in a heartbeat if I think one of you is in trouble.
“Too late for that, I’m afraid.” Lemarchand answered. “Olivia’s already in trouble.”
“Piss off you grotty little wanker.” Dare snarked pleasantly.
“Why don’t you make me you jealous, whey-faced little slut.”
Olivia stepped forward and Lenore did the same, forcing Carpenter to plant a hand on their tummies to keep them apart. Not enjoying it a fraction as much as the FAWNatics might’ve thought, he said, “Back up now, ladies. If it’s destined to go wrong we can at least start it off right.”
Blonde and brunette did as asked, though it was obvious their reins were one sharp word from snapping to pieces.
Algernon ‘Al’ Carpenter was, despite his vaguely Ichabod Crane meets video store clerk appearance, a very accomplished referee. He’d been calling wrestling matches since he was nineteen and focused almost primarily on women’s bouts since he turned twenty-one. He was oft sought by FAWN stars for high profile matches as he was hard to fool with chicanery and even harder to distract with sex appeal because he was so focused on calling the match that it flew over his head every single time. To put it simply, Al was liked among his peers and the wrestlers because, short of getting hit with a Low Blow or steel chair (both of which he’d endured more than once during the course of his storied career) he did not get rattled. Yet tonight, tucked away in a forgotten little corner of the Mad House that’d been done up to look like the den of some pastoral English land baron (the storm coming in over the forest from the coast helped the illusion immensely) he felt like climbing the walls.
Oh, the official wasn’t afraid of the women who occupied the room, he’d called dozens of matches for both of them, he was however afraid of what they were going to do TO one another. The thumps, bumps, groans, grunts and other assorted noises were bad enough when there was a crowd to muffle the worst of it, but with nothing but the hard patter of rain on glass and the occasional pop from the fire, Al was certain his nerves would be in tatters before the bout was over. He was snapped back to reality by the sound of some tech locking the suite door, to Carpenter it sounded as loud as the tumblers on a bank vault.
“Ladies.” he cleared his throat and began again. “Ladies, you both know the rules to this sort of contest so I won’t bother repeating them now. I will however ask to see your hands and feet, to make sure your nails are trimmed in accordance to the rules. Olivia, I’ll start with you if you don’t mind.”
“Of course not.” Dare pulled her attention from Lenore and offered both hands to the ref, who took them gently. The former FAWN World Champion had elected a clear coat with tiny gold flecks that made her nails gleam and sparkle in the low lighting. While they were far from talons, Carpenter noted that they were just long enough to conform to the rules while adding an unpleasant bite to any grip she might secure. Her toes proved equally well maintained and Al patted an ankle when he was done. “Very good ‘Liv.” She murmured a thanks and stepped back, her attention already honed on the Raven. Soon Al’s was too, though his was far less intense. “May I see your hands, Lenore?”
“You certainly may.” Lemarchand stepped forward with her hands held out and he took them as lightly as he’d done for Olivia. She’d painted her nails in a deep blue, almost an indigo, which immediately reminded him of Jenny. Thinking of her connected both she and Lenore to his buddy Kent Allard, who’d been quietly dating Emily’s Lady in Waiting for the better part of a year. Though he wouldn’t go so far as say he was close with Lenore, he knew Kent was over the moon for her and he would admit that he’d grown to enjoy the sardonic humor Lemarchand showed when socializing far from the FAWN cameras.
The conflict must’ve shown on his face because the Raven asked, “Something wrong, Al?”
Carpenter shook it off and released her hands. “Sorry, lost in thought for a second.” He knelt to check her toes (also painted that deep midnight blue to match her outfit) and it occurred to him that he’d feel like shyt if something bad happened to Lenore on his watch, Al certainly didn’t want Kent to endure the rough patch he’d traveled after Jenny’s injury. Not that he wanted anything to happen to Olivia either, he’d called her first stateside match for WOLF almost ten years ago now and they’d been good friends ever since.
The ref closed his eyes, took a deep breath and let it out silently. Then he got to his feet and positioned himself between blonde and brunette. “We’re all set to begin.” he said. They made a move toward one another, stopped when he raised a hand. “But seeing as how you both asked me to call this match, I’d like to take a moment to remind you of something, assuming my opinion carries any weight in a room like this.” They looked at him expectantly and Al felt more pressure than ever. “I understand what you’re fighting for. I understand why you’re fighting for it and I even understand why you think you have to fight for it this way. What I want YOU to understand is that FAWN is more than big enough to accommodate the both of you, it would indeed be much diminished were it to find itself short a Blackbird or a Raven. To be blunt, I have two healthy friends in this room right now. I want two healthy friends when the match is over. Have I made myself clear?”
Olivia nodded. “I will do everything I can to honor that request, Al. But I make no promises. The stakes are too high to be bound by a promise, even one to a friend.”
Carpenter made no comment, he only looked to Lenore, who took a moment to respond. It’d been the first time Kent’s best pal had used the ’F-word’ in regards to herself and it was both a relief and startling. “Olivia made this challenge and I have every intention of answering it with all the force required. I am ALSO going to get the handshake I should’ve had at Spring Break. Make no mistake about it, ‘Liv. I’ll earn your respect, even if I have to beat it out of you. But I won’t ruin you. If I did I couldn’t end this at four and one in August.”
Dare managed to respond quietly even though her eyes tossed fountains of sparks. “You’ve pinned my shoulders twice, Lenore. You’ll have to be content with that. Now if you’re through yammering, perhaps we can begin?”
Al stepped back without a word, he was more than willing to give them all the space they needed.
Lenore’s lips curled up in a faint, challenging smile. She raised one hand and said, “Whenever you’re ready, sweet girl.”
Olivia only shook her head ‘no’. “Not that way, dear. This venue and this stipulation requires another sort of Test” the Englishwoman waited a beat. “If you’re up to it, of course.”
Lenore refrained from snorting in derision, if only barely. “Set the pace, Dare. I’ll match you step for step.”
Olivia strode over, lifted one hand and ran it deep into Lemarchand’s hair before curling her fingers into a fist. Lenore raised both hands but Olivia stopped her. “Only one, dear.”
The American did as bade, helping herself to a large handful of hair just behind her opponent’s left ear. “And these?” she raised her free hand and twiddled fingers at Olivia.
“A grip of another sort.” Dare curled her hand into a cup and laid it atop the swell of Lenore’s left breast. Smiling at the slight narrowing of her foe’s eyes, Olivia purred, “Or we can double up on the hair-holds if this makes you uncomfortable. Not everyone’s cut out for the European style of--”
Lenore set her hand atop Dare’s right breast and squeezed just enough to let the blonde feel her nails. “Like I said, step for step. Bring it on, ‘Livvvvrrrrggghhhhhh.”
Olivia pulled with one hand and crushed with the other, forcing Lenore to do the same. Heads tilted to one side by the pull, the pair of women remained almost frozen as they worked their respective holds. Treating her rival’s hair to several sharp little tugs, Olivia suddenly jerked it other the way, which put a painful kink in Lenore’s neck. “Hope you used strengthening conditioner this morning, dearie.” she chirped. “Otherwise you’re going to have a rather patchy ggggggrrrrrrraaaaaahhhhh!”
Lemarchand jerked the blonde’s noggin forward and backward, she looked like someone shaking up a Coke can for some unpleasant practical joke. “I’d worry about your own roots, ‘Liv. Tell me, is it stress that makes them dark or have you started aaaaaaahhhh bytch!”
Dare twisted her squeezin’ wrist sideways and started kneading like she had a handful of wet clay instead of a whole lotta angry brunette. Lenore frowned, then hissed when Olivia abruptly surged into her, forcing the American to give ground for fear of losing her balance. “Of course you wanted a breast grip.” Lemarchand sniped. “Hard to lose something you’ve never had, right ‘Liv?” she dug in with her nails, a pretty good impression of a woman trying to crush an apple with her bare hands, if Dare’s face was any indicator.
“Right, because I’ve got such an insurmountable advantage.” Olivia scoffed when she’d bit back the worst of the hurt. “I forgot you and Pandora are always swapping tops.”
“Not tops. Just stories about the fun we’ve had putting British tramps on their backsserrrrgggggghhhh aaaahhhh bytch!”
The blonde worked her thumb beneath the underside of Lenore’s cup and really dug into the now defenseless bounty. “Watch your tone, twat, or you’ll discover how out of your depth you are that much quickerOOOOHH GRRRGGGHHHHH… “ The Oncoming Storm clenched the pain behind her teeth, not that it did anything to keep Lemarchand’s thumb and forefinger from twisting her nipple like a radio dial. Finding her words after a few shuddering seconds, Olivia huffed, “Really, dear? I’ve fought bar wenches with tighter grips.”
Lenore only smirked and bore down on the vulnerable flesh. “Uh huh. And did those bar wenches make your eyes water too?”
The question was followed with a hair tug so emphatic it made Dare forget about the merciless grip for all of five seconds. Disgusted by the idea that she was even contemplating releasing either of her grips to better deal with Lenore’s pincer, the blonde bit her bottom lip, sucked in a deep breath and narrowed focus to a nipple grip of her own. Pulling where Lemarchand had twisted, Olivia wrenched the other woman’s head back at a rough angle and growled, “You’d really achieve much better pressure if you didn’t have those unfortunate sausages you call fingeERRRRSSSSHHH OOOOOWWWW YOU WHORE!”
Olivia had refrained from relinquishing her hair grip for fear of breaking a classic European Penthouse rule -- never be the first to break a mutual hold. Apparently Lenore felt no such restriction because she released Dare’s hair without a word and quickly pulled aside a second gray cup to affix her talons to ‘Liv’s other bud.
Sucking wind through clenched teeth, Olivia finally tossed the brunette’s hair aside, but treated her to a parting shot in the form of a stinging SMACK upside the head. Then she went to grab Lenore’s wrists and “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!” The former FAWN World Champion went up on her toes to deal with the pressure when the Raven added a wicked low angle push to her teat torture.
“On your knees, sweet girl.” Lenore commanded. “Right now or I’ll make sure these (she tweaked opposing areola for emphasis) don’t last too much longGEERRHHH!”
Lenore staggered but caught her breath before Olivia sent a second strong pulse through the grip on her crotch. “Don’t you EVER give me orders.” Dare snarled as she went to work on American undercarriage. “Otherwise I’ll destroy this festering trench you call a FAAAAAAAAHHH!”
Straining to maintain her own torture against the Englishwoman’s nauseating grip, Lemarchand twisted her wrists again while simultaneously pulling Olivia’s bounty in opposite directions. “I said on your knees or I’ll take these with me right hhhooooffhhNNGH!”
Olivia finally abandoned her hold on the brunette’s hair to deliver a savage, eye-watering overhand SLAP to Lemarchand’s nose. Then she angled that forearm under the Yank’s chin and surged forward until her foe bounced against the living room wall. Crotch claw still in place, Dare didn’t bother trying to get under the bottoms yet, she did however lean all her weight into the Forearm snugged so tight to Lenore’s windpipe. Smiling as Lenore’s talons started to weaken with oxygen deprivation, Olivia blew a taunting breeze in her face and sneered, “Get one thing straight right now, skag. This is MY domain. Within these walls MY word is gospel. And if I say that THIS,” she raaaaaaaaaaaked her nails over the dimly-limned outlines of Lenore’s womanhood, “is a festering trench, then by God and all the Saints you will acknowledge it as suHHHEERRGGHH OH NO YOU DON’T!”
Lenore tossed aside both pinchers for a double fistful of blonde hair, which she used to power her charge off the wall. Didn’t get too far though, Dare’s control over gullet and groin meant the Black Courtier THWUMPED back to start only a few seconds after the jailbreak had begun. Pressed in almost nose to nose now, the Oncoming Storm ground her arm back and forth against Lenore’s neck to further restrict her breathing. Just as concerning, Olivia stopped fiddling with the above the trunks grip and slipped her claw under that dark blue waistband to attack her opponent’s center unhindered.
“Perhaps my earlier assessment was a bit harsh.” Dare cooed. She wasn’t actively seeking la petite mort at the moment, not that it was much comfort to Lenore with a handful of darning needles applied so intimately. “This isn’t a festering trench. It’s more of a glacial chasm, uncharted by even the bravest of explorers.”
“OH F*CK YOU!” Lenore rasped. She’d divided her attention between the stranglehold on her throat and the talon at her groin and had thus succeeded in dislodging neither.
Olivia ‘tsk-tsk’ed’ and kissed the tip of Lenore’s nose, a small, yet important bit of humiliation she’d been wanting to avenge for quite some time. “No need for anger, dear heart. I know the cold is almost unbearable, but don’t you fret. I can generate enough heat to start you thawing and when that ice breaks apart it’ll be with a scream that wakes the ERRRRRHHH NNNNNGGGHH!”
Lenore stopped flailing for release and plunged her hands into Olivia’s hair. Using the blonde’s head as a lead she twisted her hips and reversed their positions, Dare now stuffed against the tastefully decorated wall she’d so recently smudged. A single Kneelift to the Briton’s groin extricated the claw in an instant and while Lemarchand didn’t bother with one of her own, she did indeed wedge her hips against Olivia’s to keep her pinned in place for the time being.
Pressed in forehead on forehead, Lenore murmured, “I don’t need any help bringing the heat, sweet girl. But if I did, I sure as HELL wouldn’t take any advice from a pasty-skinned, mosquito-titted, COLD FISH of a lay like--”
“TWAT!” Dare pushed off the wall so forcefully that Lenore couldn’t stop her. She could however pull back just far enough to raise a knee and stuff it against the Englishwoman’s tummy. Drawing the blonde to her even as she fell backward, the Raven tossed Olivia over her with a makeshift Monkey Flip, then rolled through and landed in a heavy straddle on her foe’s hips.
Delighted by the surprise and rage she saw on Dare’s face, Lemarchand balanced heavily on her left knee, all the better to THUMP the right into the pit of Olivia’s stomach. “Yeah, there’s that sound!” Emily’s Lady in Waiting climbed north until the heavy curve of her backside rested atop Olivia’s modest chest. She reached back with her left hand and smac-smac-SMACKED the prone Lightweight’s ribs. “Can you believe I’d almost forgotten how much I enjoy the sound of your doughy stomach getting pounded?” Lenore pumped a short downward punch into Dare’s abs to emphasize the point.
Aware that she was in a rather dicey spot at the moment, Olivia set her feet and used one hand to protect the spot where she thought Lemarchand might punch next. The other she curled into a cup and applied directly to her rival’s left thigh. “Let me go, pretty bird.” she demanded. “Or I’ll start taking pieces that won’t grow back.”
Lenore grimaced, Dare’s nails were sunk in deep, but the brunette knew she had the advantage and she meant to make sure Dare knew it too. After another few piston-like punches to English tummy, the Raven splayed her fingers into a talon and raaaaaaaaaaaaaaaked from Olivia’s waistband to just south of her breasts. Then she did it again. And again. And again. Half a dozen scorings in all, then she stopped tilling and started planting, her index finger in Dare’s navel to be precise.
Digging in like she meant to take a whole handful, Lemarchand finally met Olivia’s gaze and snarled, “Peck away, Blackbird. We both know I’m going to tear you apart.” She bore down and turned her wrist at a sharp angle, which drew a hiss from the pinned battler.
Painfully aware of how damage to her midsection now could hamstring her efforts later, Dare abandoned her attack on the brunette’s leg in hopes of effecting a quicker escape. A direct assault on the bytch’s crotch would draw a swift retaliation in such a vulnerable position, so rather than tempt such punishment she reached up with both hands and affixed them to Lenore’s breasts. “I’ll do far more than peck, dearest.” she taunted in between squeezes. “I’m going to leave you in a soup of your own sha--”
Lenore didn’t have to use her hands to end the attack on her tits, she simply scooted forward until the fork of her crotch was wedged against Dare’s chin. Doing so pushed Olivia’s arms away and down, they weren’t quite pinned to the deep green carpet but they sure as hell weren’t doing her any good flailing less than six inches above it. Staring daggers at Olivia to see if the Brit actually had the nerve to maintain eye contact in such a vulnerable position, Lenore stopped squeezing but she didn’t extract her index finger from Dare’s navel. Indeed she shifted her hand and pressed straight down, using the digit like a well manicured ice pick to stab at the dense meat beneath.
Free to roam wherever it chose, Lemarchand’s other hand swiped hair off her opponent’s forehead, then ‘walked’ from the tip of her nose all the way up between her eyes and finally grabbed a huge hank of hair. Twisting it in her fingers, Lenore pulled and yanked, pulled and yanked until Dare’s stoic silence cranked beneath the weight of a few angry whimpers. “I have you in a very bad way, Olivia.” the Courtier said softly. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t finish you off right now.”
Give her credit, the Oncoming Storm answered with the confidence of a woman who wasn’t about to be subjected to a pair of Apartment Wrestling’s most painful indignities. “I’ll give you the only reason that matters, luv. Because you f*ucking CAN’TTTMMMPPPHH!”
Lenore slid forward, spread her knees a little bit wider and bore down to make sure she got every bit of her weight behind the crotch on mouth seal. Farther south, she wormed her hand under the blonde’s gray briefs and set to work winning this ‘Death Match’.
Olivia keened. She hated the sound of it, but she couldn’t help it. The American bytch had bested her in back to back wrestling matches and now, in less than ten minutes, she’d secured a potentially series-winning mount. Working desperately not to cry, Dare stopped flailing and planted her feet against the carpet. Then she pushed up and bucked hard, trying to toss the Raven from her perch. Lenore swung forward a ways, but then she squeezed her knees against the side of Olivia’s noggin and reset herself.
“Not good enough, sweet girl.” Lemarchand shook her head ‘no’ and increased the pace of her probing. “This match is gonna end with a bang AND a whimpNNGGGH!” O
livia whipped a leg up and slammed her knee into the curve of Lenore’s lower back. Two more blows connected as solidly as the first, unfortunately whatever good the might’ve done was immediately eclipsed by the pain of Lenore returning to her previous white-knuckle crotch grip. “You’re done, Olivia.” she panted. “Just bite your tongue and this will all be over SOOOOOOHH OOOOWWWW YOU DESPERATE SLUT!”
Olivia was desperate indeed, which was why she fought so hard to get her otherwise useless hands around behind Lemarchand’s back. There she secured a double handful of dark blue waistband and yaaaaaaaaanked it up by a good four to six inches. The wedgie cut sharp and deep, in any other circumstance Lenore would’ve relinquished her attack and created some distance to rearrange her distended togs. But tonight, with a crowning victory so close at hand (no pun intended) she steeled her nerves and held on for dear life.
“One chance, ‘Liv.” the Raven rasped to her partially buried nemesis. “Let go this instant. Or it’s going to get ugly.”
It was hard to give a cogent response with her mouth jammed against the American’s undercarriage, but Olivia managed to make herself understood. A second vile tug on Lenore’s bottoms combined with something that sounded like, “Phhhuukkyooo.”
Lemarchand nodded, then helped herself to a handful of Olivia’s trunks and yanked them up n’ out so violently it earned an audible wince from the usually stone-silent cameraman. Painful as the Inverted Wedgie was (and Dare was half a heartbeat from tapping out, not that it would have done her a lick of good) it might’ve saved Olivia’s life in the series.
Forced to burn precious oxygen in a stifled, humid scream against the brunette’s center, Olivia drew in what little air she could, then actually realized her mouth was open and CHOMPED down on the thin cotton armor of her opponent’s briefs. Lemarchand let loose with a shriek of her own and she scrambled clear of the mount after hanging around just long enough to bounce the back of Dare’s head against the floor. Rolling away the instant she was clear, Olivia didn’t stop until she bumped into one of the overstuffed couches that populated the fighting space.
The Penthouse Tactician in her told the Englishwoman it wasn’t wise to get backed up against any furniture and she sure as hell didn’t want to have her back to the American, but the pain in her nethers was such that she ignored all internal advice so she could tend to the firestorm down below. Blinking back tears, Dare adjusted her abused bottoms, re-sheathed her girls in their cups and finally wiped away the tracks those tears had left on her cheeks. After what seemed like an eternity, she sat up, put a hand on the couch and used it to get to her feet. She felt Lenore’s eyes on her at once and met them without flinching. The Raven stood on the other side of the room, watching her with that same mixture of defiance, disdain and respect that Olivia found so goddamned maddening. “Have I ever told you you fight like a classless gutter slut, pretty bird? Because you do.” Dare said after a deep breath. “But I’ve never let a gutter slut beat me before and I’m sure as hell not about to start tonight. Now it’s my turn to humiliate you.”
Lenore shook her head in disgust. “Don’t you put this on me, Dare. You made the challenge, I just accepted it. I was perfectly content to end this series in the ring, but you and your pride couldn’t bear the thought of losing to me three times in a row so you asked for a change of venue. Now I’m beating you here too and you have no idea what to think.” Lenore paused as an undeniably vicious smile spread across her face. “I take that back. I bet you thought ‘now I know how Lisa feels when she fights me.’ Has that crossed your mind, ‘Liv? Don’t answer, the look on your face tells me everything I need to--”
Olivia came at her with murder in her eyes, the former FAWN World Champ raising her claws to shoulder level for a chance to rend and tear at the Black Court blasphemer. Lenore raised her hands too but great minds really did think alike because instead of locking up they each pivoted on a heel and brought their thigh up in hopes of smashing it against undefended tummy. The THWHAP of thigh on thigh was very loud in the closed space and was in fact still echoing when Olivia reached across with her right hand and raaaaaaaaaaked Lenore’s eyes.
She yipped and grabbed a double handful of Dare’s hair, more to keep herself steady as opposed to simply pulling, though the enthusiasm with which she did so suggested she’d be more than happy to take a few hunks of scalp in trade. Olivia made no move to shake free of Lemarchand’s grip, in fact she went so far as to seize the brunette’s wrists to make sure she couldn’t disengage. Then she drew back her right leg and THWHUMPED the point of her knee deep into the pit of American stomach. Lenore groaned and stumbled, but didn’t yield nearly as much ground as Dare thought she might. Remarkably infuriated by this, she braced on her left heel, spun in and plastered the broad side of her thigh across the same spot.
“OOOOOFFFFHH!” Olivia saw the Courtier’s hips fly back and knew in her heart the Raven was about to collapse from gut-shock. Imagine her surprise then when Lemarchand steadied her balance and retaliated by shaking the blonde’s head back n’ forth as hard as she could. Screaming from rage rather than pain (though the burn in her scalp was far from pleasant) Dare relinquished one of her Wristlocks and slashed that talon across Lenore’s peepers once again.
“Stay off her eyes, Olivia.” Al Carpenter demanded from a safe distance. “You know how I feel about that sort of thing.”
Olivia did, in fact it was only her respect for the official himself (rather than the letter or spirit of the law) that kept her from scraping off the brunette’s face right then and there. The Englishwoman filled her hands with hair to negate further temptation, thankfully the ref has said nothing about her knees and put the right to good use in an alternating series of strikes and smashes aimed solely at Lemarchand’s midsection. This THWHAPPING and THUMPING barrage didn’t end until Lenore sank to her knees and even then the Upstart’s punishment had only just begun. Positively radiant now that she’d avenged a galling slight from their second encounter, Olivia tucked some hair behind her ears, then ran her hands through the Raven’s sweat-damp locks and bent her head back at an unpleasant angle.
“Beaten to your knees, pretty bird.” Dare said with poisonous good humor. “Tell me, how does it feel? Does it feel like your smutty guts are about to un-spool? Does it--”
“I feel like….hhuuuhhhfff…. I feel like,” Lenore’s answer broke off into unpleasant coughing for several seconds before she found herself again. “I bet I feel like you felt when I first put you on your knees four months ago.” She paused for a moment and came up with a smile that could smite a firing squad. “Though I think I’m handling it with more dignity than you ever did. Must kill you to be playing catch-up all the NNNNNGGGGGHH!”
Olivia checked Lenore’s chin on her way to hoisting the knock-kneed Yank to something like verticality. Using the hair-holds to draw her prey in close, Dare slotted a knee between the brunette’s thighs and SHUMPED it flush to her undercarriage once, twice, three times. “I don’t know what sort of garbage Emily has filled your head with,” Dare whispered it in Lemarchand’s ear when the brunette collapsed against her in a woozy clench. “But you WILL learn to respect your betters by the time you leave this GUURRRHHK!”
Lenore’s hands, which had been tending her wounded groin, flew to Olivia’s throat and wrapped around tight. “It’s… not that I don’t… respect my betters…. Olivia.” she rasped to the pink-faced Briton. “I just… haven’t met one yetTTEERRRGGGHHH!”
The Oncoming Storm jabbed a thumb into Lenore’s left eye, then clamped down on a shoulder when the brunette tried to clear off. Working her other hand through Lemarchand’s thighs, Dare scooped her up onto one shoulder and stomped over to the narrow end of the couch. Lined up with the nearest armrest, Olivia pushed onto her toes and tossed Lenore down so that the small of her back WHUMPED against the heavily upholstered wood. T’was a whole lot less painful than getting slammed on a concrete floor or a steel guardrail, but you never would have known it from Lenore’s scream. Or the hellacious way her spine curved around the gentle slope of the armrest.
Palming her foe’s shoulders to make sure she didn’t slide away from the point of impact, Dare smiled down into Lemarchand’s pain-crimped features and said, “Hello there. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Olivia Dare and I am, without question, your better.”
Lenore shook her head ’no’, it seemed to be the only thing she could do that wouldn’t result in more hurt. “You’re not better, ’Liv.” she groaned. “You’re afraid. Afraid I’m going to surpass you in evMMMERRRRPPPHHHHHH!” Olivia stepped forward, wedged Lenore’s head between her thighs, then reached back and snatched hold of her hair to really jam the insolent little troll’s face against her arse.
A little ways off, Al Carpenter let out a low whistle. An Inverted Standing Headscissors was rare enough in the ring, but to see one applied with the whole of Lenore’s upper body hanging off the edge of the couch was simultaneously impressive and unnerving. Not much liking the angle of Lemarchand’s neck at the moment, the ref strode over to the action and raised an index finger when Olivia started to speak. He tapped Lenore’s right knee twice and said, “It’s Al, Lenore. How’s your neck? Can you continue?”
Olivia frowned at him. “Of course she can bloody continue.” she snarled. “And even if she can’t, I’m not finished with her RRRGGHH OOOWWW!”
The Raven’s hands suddenly found purpose in their flailing and gouged deep into the Englishwoman’s glutes. Teeth bared, eyes gleaming, Dare took possession of Lemarchand’s wrists and wrenched them away from her tush with a little hiss of displeasure. Working hard to keep them under control, she looked to Carpenter and asked, “May I continue, sir?”
“Careful of her neck, Olivia.” Al answered without acknowledging his charge’s displeasure. “No one’s leaving this apartment with a neck brace, am I clear?”
“As crystal. I’ve got other ways to make this slattern suffer.” Dare tossed the brunette’s hands clear, joined her own into a single fist and THWHUMPED it into the pit of Lenore’s stomach. The Double Axehandle elicited a shudder so powerful it started the Courtier sliding off the armrest but Olivia grabbed her by the hips and inched forward until it was only her head and shoulders hanging loose of the couch. “Not quite as eye-catching as my first arrangement.” Dare sighed while sending a strong pulse through her sinewy thighs. “But if it keeps Algernon from worrying about your fragile little neck, then so be it. Speaking of fragile, tell me pretty bird, how long can you take this?” She reached down, hooked her fingers under the center of Lemarchand’s top and pulled it up.
Breasts bared to the cool air, Lenore’s hands flew to their aid, alas Olivia swatted them aside and applied a crushing two handed claw. “HHRRRRRPPPMMMPPHHHHH!” Lemarchand kicked her legs, thrashed her hips and gouged her fists into the blonde’s ribs but Olivia had all the leverage, all the pressure and all the vitriol she needed to keep the agonizing Headscissors / Claw cinched in tight.
“I could crush you out right now, bytch.” Dare explained to her wriggling victim. “Of course unconsciousness would make something like this much less entertaining.” she took the American’s buds between thumb and forefinger, then added a twist & pull that had Lenore wailing like a muffled air raid siren. “Do you want to tap out, pretty bird?” Olivia smiled wider than ever as she Lemarchand wailed into her backside. “If you do, tap my arse this instant and I promise I’ll bring you around quickLLEERRRRRRROOWWW FAAAAAHHHKING WITCH!” Lenore stopped trying to wrestle her way out and instead helped herself to two massive handfuls of Dare’s gray briefs. Forced onto tiptoes by the power of Lemarchand’s wicked wedgie, Olivia briefly contemplated breaking her own grip before widening the brunt of her rage to the whole of Lenore’s underrated, under-defended chest. “Let go RIGHT now, pretty bird.” the Brit demanded through clenched teeth. “Or I’ll tear these off, so help me GAAAAAAAHHH!”
Lenore *did* release her foe’s waistband, alas it was only to move her hands around front, where they doubled down and yanked up all over again. Shrieking to beat the devil as her traitorous togs sawed in fore and aft, Olivia finally abandoned the dual claw-grips so she could pwak-pwak-PWAK short, straight punches into the Black Courtier’s fluttering tummy. Half a dozen produced no discernable results so Dare wedged her left hand beneath Lemarchand’s waistband and admitted that dangerous hook to her archrival’s inner sanctum again.
“Pull and tug all you want, tramp!” Olivia demanded while the pumping of her fingers made odd ripples and bulges against the front of Lenore’s bottoms. “It won’t stop the flood from sweeping you awaNNNNGGGGHHH!”
Less than half aware of Dare’s threat, Lemarchand honed in not on the meaning, but the source of those hated words. Drawing a bead as best she could she tensed up and flicked her left leg and flicked her left leg over and back like a Rock-ette who’d had a little too much to drink at the Radio City Christmas Party.
Eyes down to better focus on her attack, Olivia looked up a split second too late and took the brunette’s lower shin square between the eyes. Stunned, she pulled her hand free of its confines and braced both on the American’s tummy to better steady her THWHACK! Lemarchand clouted her with a second kick and Olivia went reeling away toward the more open center of the living room.
Blessedly free of the blonde’s machinations, Lenore twisted onto her belly the instant Olivia sounded the retreat. Every one of her well honed-instincts screamed for the Raven to back off and catch her breath -- she’d NEVER been worked over on a couch in such painfully thorough fashion and she needed some time catch her breath. But pride and rage were in charge at the moment and they weren’t going to be satisfied with anything so polite as a breather. So Lemarchand pushed to a crouch and put one foot on the armrest and braced the other against the closest cushion. For that one moment Al thought she looked eerily like her avian avatar and the illusion was only strengthened when Lenore croaked, “Turn and face me you low class twat.”
Olivia whirled at the sound of the slur and even took a big step forward, which proved disastrous when Emily’s Lady in Waiting launched herself from the perch like a ebon-winger doom. No mere Suicide Dive this, Lemarchand wrapped her arms around Dare’s waist and buried her right shoulder into English belly, all the better to drive her into the carpet with a window-shivering THWHUMP!
Al managed to keep his “Holy Shit.” off-mic, then hurried over to the sprawled bendies and dropped to one knee. ‘Talk to me, ‘Liv!” he demanded. “Can you continue?”
“Don’t even think about stopping us now.” Lenore growled. She’d straddled her prey’s upper thighs and pressed possessive claws into Olivia’s modest chest.
“You might have broken her ribs, Lenore.” the ref explained in his most ‘don’t f*ck with me on this’ tone. “I don’t care how much you two hate each other, I’m not going to see either of you in the hosp--”
“I’m fine, Algernon.” Dare interrupted in a wonderfully gothic horror movie wheeze. “It will take more than this bit of fluff to NNNNNGGGHH!”
Lenore leaned down and in to cuff a brutal Forearm Smash across Dare’s chin. Two more were added for good measure before the Raven twined her fingers in the hurtin’ lovely’s hair. “I promised myself I wouldn’t injure you.” Lenore spat after she’d hauled the both of them to verticality. “Promised that no matter what you said or did, I would make sure you never spent a night in the infirmary on my account.” Over to the couch again, only Lemarchand didn’t spill her burden onto it, she circled around behind, as there was still several feet between it and the darkly-paneled wall. “But you are SORELY testing my resolve, tuff girl. I can see how you thought my first win was a fluke, even though we both knew you were exhausted.” Lenore glued herself to Olivia’s six, coiled her arms around that slender-strong waist and dug in with a Bear Hug. Good as she was, Lemarchand was never going to win fights with this particular maneuver, it did however earn the desired sob of agony from Dare, especially when she gouged her knotted fists into the spot where the Spear hit home.
“But the second time I beat you?” Lenore’s teeth were inches from the Englishwoman’s ear and the feel of it, all hot and angry, made Dare want to scream her hatred for all to hear. “I flattened you out and pinned you CLEAN in the middle of the ring, Olivia! I beat you best two out of three and you couldn’t even shake my goddamned hand! All but called me a whore in front of the whole world! Now I’m beating you at your own game and you still won’t admit what we already know!” Lenore set her feet a little ways apart, bore down on her Waistlock / Bear Hug and hoisted Dare off her feet for constriction that had Olivia mewling with nauseated anguish. Setting the blonde down when her arms started to tire, the Raven leaned her forehead against the back of Olivia’s noggin and murmured, “I used to think this was about proving I could hang with you. Now I’m starting to wonder if it’s actually about you proving you can hang with me.”
Dare went stock-still and only winched when Lenore instinctively squeezed her tighter. “Choose your next words very carefully, Lenore.” she whispered. “They may decide whether or not I ruin you tonight.”
Lenore’s dark eyes narrowed. She’d been in the ring with confident wrestlers before, but Olivia Dare was on a whole new level. “I could crush half a dozen ribs with one more long squeeze, ‘Liv. What makes you think I won’t ruin you first?”
Olivia delivered her response with all the joy of a sadist working a shiv during a prison riot. “Like I told you earlier, you’re not f*ucking good enough, pretty biHAOFH!”
Almost out of her mind with anger, Lenore dropped her hips, then bridged up and back, letting loose at the apex to make sure Dare took the short, savage flight into the back of the couch all by her lonesome.
“GODDAYUM!” Al shouted when the back of Olivia’s head and shoulders THWHUMPED into the solid back of the couch.
Caught in the grip of a scream too large to leave her throat, Dare dropped to a slumped seat and only moaned when the ref knelt beside her. Elsewhere, Lenore Lemarchand rolled to one knee and took her time adjusting both sports bra and briefs. Never letting her eyes leave the slumped wreckage of her foe, the Black Courtier got to her feet and asked, “Is anything broken?”
Carpenter looked like he might say yes just to end the carnage, but in the end he sighed and said, “No. Nothing broken.”
“Then step aside, please. I mean to finish this.”
The official did as bade and when the path was clear Lenore stalked over and forced the Briton up with a double handful of hair. “Just wanted a bit of respect, ‘Liv.” Lemarchand bent over, hooked her hands behind Dare’s left knee and lifted her leg up high enough to drape it over the back of the couch at a rather awkward angle. “But you wouldn’t give it. You were convinced from the very beginning that it must be some sort of elaborate ploy designed to disgrace you in the worst way possible. Well tell me something, Olivia.” Lenore snaked her right arm around Dare’s throat in a snug almost-Sleeper, then curled her left hand into a J and slid it down the back of those gray bottoms to better access opposing undercarriage. “Have you ever heard of a self-fulfilling prophecy? Because this is one of those.”
Olivia sucked in a sharp gasp through her nose but said nothing, choosing instead to dig her nails into the brunette’s forearm in hopes of breaking at least one grip. Lenore stayed silent as well. Though she’d agreed to the stipulation readily enough, she hadn’t utilized this particular, ahem, method, since very early in her junior year back at Miskatonic. It certainly wasn’t her preferred avenue of victory, yet she’d worked it quite effectively in college and it didn’t take long for her to find the proper rhythm. Just like riding a bike and all that.
More disgusted by the idea of Lemarchand closing out the series than the actual feel of claw in her nethers, Dare clamped down on the Black Courtier’s forearm that much harder and when it didn’t free her from the torture she sent one hand south to intercept Lenore’s encroaching wrist. The pace only faltered for a moment before returning stronger than before. Olivia whimpered, hated herself for it, then piled on more self-loathing when she grunted, “Let… let go of me… bytch!”
Lemarchand pulled her noose a little tighter, she and ‘Liv were almost cheek to cheek now. “Not ‘til it’s over, tuff girl. Don’t bother tapping out, it won’t do any gooERRRGGGGHHH!”
The Oncoming Storm abandoned Lenore’s forearm entirely to yank on a savage handful of hair. “I SAID LET GO!” she roared, vaguely wondering if the volume would cover the sound of her panic.
Hissing as the fire spread throughout her scalp, Lenore replied, “Not on your f*cking life, girl. This doesn’t end until you’re screaming my AAAAAAAAHHHHHH SHHYYYYTTT!”
Simultaneously terrified and infuriated by the growing heat in her loins, Olivia’s rapidly weakening fingers worked around to the underside of Lemarchand’s wrist in search of the pressure point that waited there. Finding it, the former FAWN World Champion squeezed with all her might and was rewarded with Lenore’s startled scream. Forgetting all about the Crotch Claw as a bolt of numbing lightning raced from her wrist to her shoulder and back again, the Raven stumbled backward in a stupor with that arm cradled limp against her chest.
Eyes closed in blessed relief, Olivia braced both hands against the top of the couch and pushed up just enough to haul her left leg out of its unpleasant cradle. Her knees came close to buckling as soon as both feet were on the floor, thankfully Dare had the couch to lean against while the worst of the shivers passed. ‘Almost had me,’ she thought with utter revulsion. ‘That smug little trollop almost made me c-’
“Pressure points are illegal in European Penthouse bouts, Olivia.” Lenore snarled from somewhere over one shoulder. “Why don’t you just go ahead and tell the whole world you can’t beat me?”
Dare rounded on her, started forward and was delighted to see the American giving ground. “You’re only half right, pretty bird.” the Englishwoman snapped. “Pressure points aren’t allowed…. IF your opponent can stop you. The same is true for--”
Olivia’s right leg twitched for what could only be a Low Blow and that’s when Lenore’s backpedaling bounced her calves against the low coffee table situated in front of the other overstuffed couch. She didn’t fall, but the surprise of it took Lemarchand’s attention off her opponent for the split-second it took Dare to pounce. Hands crooked into talons, the blonde forced her palms against Lenore’s temples so she could GOUGERAAAAAAAAAAKE her opponent’s eyes with a sadistic modification of the classic AHW Tiger Claw.
Screeching as the world dissolved into sworls and starbursts, Em’s Lady in Waiting lost her balance and started to topple backward only to be saved from an extremely unpleasant landing by Dare herself. “Not going to be that easy, pretty bird.” Olivia explained after setting the brunette on her feet. “When you go through that table, it’s not going to be an accident.”
‘Accident’ was barely off her lips when Dare THWHUMPED a single ruthless Kneelift into her foe’s crotch. Lemarchand shouted in bleary hurt and lurched into a loose clench that Olivia accepted without complaint. Pivoting so that her left shoulder pointed toward the table, the Blackbird hooked her right arm under the American’s left bicep, then reached over with her left hand and grabbed a handful of hair at the nape of Lenore’s neck.
Al had remained silent and out of the way since the German Suplex into the couch, now he started toward them with one hand extended. “Stop right there, ‘Liv. This furniture is period, there’s no give in ohf*ckme.” Carpenter’s sentiment was echoed a thousand-fold at the FAWN arena and elsewhere around the world when Olivia tossed her opponent up, over and down onto the heavy antique table. The one saving grace was the Briton’s grip on Lenore’s hair. That saved the back of her skull from the sickening THWHUD that sent a jolt tearing through the rest of her lithesome frame.
Bounced off the table (which hadn’t even flinched on impact) Lenore flopped over in mid-air and hit the carpet flat on her face, chest and belly. The ref fought clear of his stupor a moment later and moved to check on the twitching Cour-- “BACK OFF, ALGERNON!” Olivia screamed at the top of her lungs. “YOU’LL KNOW WHEN SHE’S FINISHED!”
Frozen by the rage in the usually icy blonde’s voice, Al asked, “Jesus ‘Liv, what’s gotten into you?”
Dare smoothed out her hair, then did the same for her togs. When she answered it was in a more normal tone of voice. “I am merely giving this girl what she’s desired from the very beginning. A taste of me at my very best. It’s hardly my fault that my best is so much worse than she ever imagined.”
That hardly seemed like an adequate explanation for the official but no more was forthcoming from the Blackbird. Indeed she’d already shoveled Lenore onto her back and taken possession of her ankles. Grip secure, she draaaaaaaaagged Lemarchand out into a bare expanse of carpet and tossed her left leg aside. Then she lowered her shoulders, draped the brunette’s right leg across her shoulders (the pit of Lenore’s knee snugged against the back of her neck) and wrapped her arms around it at thigh and ankle.
“Nuuuhhh….. NO!” was the first statement of any coherence from Lemarchand since she hit the table and it didn’t come until Dare had hauled her into an uncomfortable headstand.
“Oh yes my dear.” Olivia cooed. “You wanted my best. My best is what you shall have.” Dare twisted slightly and dropped into a deep crouch that flattened Lenore’s chest against the floor and left the Englishwoman’s buns planted squarely on the back of her victim’s shoulders. Then there was her right leg, which was bent at an ungodly angle across ‘Liv’s shoulders while her left leg flopped uselessly a few feet above the carpet. That wasn’t the worst of it though and Lenore knew it. The worst happened when Dare wormed her left hand beneath the Raven’s blue briefs once again.
“Nnnnnnnngggggaaahhhhhhhh!” Lenore braced both hands and dug in as hard as she could but Olivia’s seat was too high and too firm. Lenore reaaaaaaaaaaaaached for something, ANYTHING, but it all remained stubbornly clear of her questing fingers. Lenore tensed her left leg and tried to drive a heel into the blonde’s face, but her angle was bad and Dare avoided all attempts with little to no effort. Far quicker than she would’ve liked, Lemarchand felt her body (especially her traitorous hips) respond to her tormentor’s attack. Olivia felt it too and she adjusted accordingly, sometimes slowing down, sometimes speeding up but always, always, always maintaining the pressure that made this version of the Oli-Viaticum one of the most feared holds in all of FAWN.
“We can both feel it building, Lenore.” Olivia said near the minute mark. “Don’t fight and it’ll be over that much faster. Feel free to moan a little too. I’m sure Kent’s friends will buy him an extra round when the realize what sort of bullet they dodged with--”
“F*CK YOU, YOU CHEATING BYTCH!” Lenore screamed loud enough to rival the ceaselessly pounding rain. “I SWEAR I’LL GET YOU FOR THISSSSSOOHHHHHHHH NOOOOOOOO STAAAAAAAAAAHHHHPPP FAAAAAAAHHHHHKK!”
The Raven held out longer than most, Olivia couldn’t deny that even if she hated the Yank witch. But one simply did not resist this sort of hold indefinitely and with victory on the horizon Dare drove her questing fingers that much harder and deeper. Chin pressed to the floor, Lenore stuffed her mouth into the crook of one elbow and curled her other arm over the back of her head so no one but Olivia heard her moan or felt her shudder when the climax was torn from her like a living thing.
Far closer to this bit of intimacy than he would’ve liked, Al saw Lenore shiver and immediately flicked a signal to the lone cameraman. Back in the FAWN Arena the bell CLANGED and the Announcer called, “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner via, uummmh, your winner… OLIVIA DARE! The series is now tied at two falls apiece and will be concluded at Fawnamania!”
Olivia pumped the claw a few more times before sliding it loose and slinging the American’s trapped leg from her shoulders. Pushing to her feet, she bent over, rolled Lenore onto her back and wiped the gleaming hook clean on her tummy. A bit disturbed by the strength of her desire to really put a boot to this girl’s throat, Dare quashed the literal urge, but the dagger unsheathed in its place was no less dangerous. “You’ve been squalling about shaking my hand, Lenore. Well here it is. Take it, pretty bird. Look me in the eye while you shake my hand. If you think you can. Go on. I dare you.” She did in fact offer the Raven her hand and of course it was the one she’d used to extract her terrible victory.
Lemarchand remained silent save for her breathing, she’d been so close and to have it ripped away in such a fashion was more than embarrassing, it was heartbreaking.
Pleased with the none too discreet way Lenore’s forearm laid across her face (she was certain the tramp was hiding tears) Olivia snorted and said, “So you won’t shake my hand? Very well then. I’ll offer again after I’ve crushed you in Aug--”
Lenore reached up, took Dare’s hand in her own and squeezed hard enough to make the blonde wince. The Raven’s eyes were gleaming as Olivia suspected they would be, but there was no reticence or shame in them now. Only a vengeful look that Olivia recognized from her own mirror. “Remember this moment, Olivia.” she growled. “Remember this moment when the bell sounds at the end of our next match and the Announcer tells the world that I won our series three falls to two. Remember that when confronted with the most humiliating defeat of my career I still managed to look you in the eye and shake your hand. If you’re as good as you say you are, you’ll be able to the same when I’ve got you on YOUR back.”
Dare tossed the American’s hand away and almost slapped her across the face. Instead she extended an index finger and held it under Lemarchand’s nose. “Don’t even think about playing the wronged heroine with me, luv. Not when you’ve spent the last two years screwing with the heads of any woman unfortunate enough to get in the ring with you. So you want my respect? You want this,” she flattened her hand into a paddle and held it beside the brunette’s face, “extended to you in anything other than the slap you so richly deserve? Then prove you’re not a miserable human being. Do that, and I won’t just shake your hand. Win, lose or draw, I’ll raise it for the whole world to see. But if I find out you are running some sort of game? Pretty bird, what I did to you tonight will be the very least of your concerns.”
Lenore sucked in a deep breath and kept her eyes locked on Dare as she let it out. After a moment she asked, “And just how pray tell, do I prove myself to you, Olivia Dare?”
Olivia shrugged her shoulders ever so slightly. “That is entirely up to you, Lenore. I suggest you start thinking on it quickly, August will be here before you know it.” Through talking, the Englishwoman straightened up and planted a foot on Lemarchand’s tits, an indignity the brunette endured in silence even though it scalded her pride as much as any pain she’d suffered this evening. Olivia left without a word once she’d taken tribute, indeed the whole apartment was silent save for the rain until Al crept over and helped Lenore sit up.
“Can I get you anything, Lenore?”
She shook her head ‘no’. “I don’t think so. Has the bathroom been stocked?”
“Yep. Clean clothes, towels, soap, shampoo, you name it.”
That was good. All she wanted right now was a very hot shower and some solitude. “Thank you. I’ll be ok. Leave the key by the front door and I’ll lock up when I leave.”
All right. I’ll have someone out in the hall just to make sure you don’t get lost on the way back to the main floor. That fine by you?”
“Yeah. Thanks again, Al.”
Carpenter patted her on the shoulder, got to his feet and took his leave.
Alone at the site of her most galling FAWN defeat, Lenore Lemarchand stood up, padded through into the bedroom and went straight to the bathroom. She made sure the door was locked and the water was going as hard as it could before she started to cry.