Yoona vs. Paulette Severe

----TWO WEEKS AGO----

“Cam, babe, just do it,” Yoona Park said impatiently. “I can handle it. I promise.”

YOONA:


Camille Cosworth chewed on her lower lip, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. The fingertips on her left hand gently brushed against the bare skin between Yoona’s breasts. She took a deep breath then released it slowly through her nose.

CAMILLE COSWORTH:


“All in the hips,” she quietly mumbled. “All in the hips.”

“What gave you the idea to try this anyway?” Yoona asked.

“Saw it on the internet,” Camille replied somewhat tersely, annoyed by the break in her concentration.

Yoona sighed heavily, “You know that stuff is only designed to look good, right? Shit doesn’t work like that in real life. The anatomy’s all wrong and --”

“Shush,” Camille interrupted. “I need to focus, okay? I’ve actually never successfully done this before.”

Park shook her head in exasperation, but she managed to hold her tongue.

Cosworth closed her eyes and repeated her mantra a few more times. “All in the hips. All in the hips.”

Yoona fidgeted nervously.

“Yoona!” Camille huffed. “Hold still!”

“Sorry!” Yoona apologized. “You’re being super serious and with the build up and the anticipation -- it’s freaking me out.”

“Ugh, nevermind,” Cosworth groaned. “I’ll try it with a mannequin or something.”

Yoona frowned. “Aww, come on, babe. Don’t go. I’ll be a good girl and hold still.”

Camille nodded her head, then closed her eyes once more and resumed her chant. After the fourth repeat, Cosworth suddenly twisted her hips while curling her fingers and shoving her arm forward with a flex of her shoulder. Her fist lightly smacked Yoona’s sternum, causing the Korean wrestler to rock back on her heels for a fraction of a second before she regained her balance.

“I -- I don’t get it,” Yoona said, looking confused. “Is this the part where you turn your back and drop a one-liner like, ‘You’re already dead,’ and then they explode? Or do they start bleeding out from every hole after they take like five steps? Not going to lie, that’d be pretty fucking awesome. Well, except for the part where I would die gruesomely. That wouldn’t be so awesome, I guess.”

“What? No, it’s supposed to be just like a regular punch, except thrown over a distance of a few inches without any windup. Bruce Lee made this famous,” Camille explained. She attempted a few more one inch punches to Yoona’s chest and stomach, none of which were any more effective than the first. “Hmm, my timing must be off. I think I’m rolling my hips out of sync --”

Yoona lightly smacked her girlfriend on the back of the head. “Bruce Lee was an actor, you fucking doofus. Try punching people in the face like a normal person, okay?”

Cosworth tried to return the playful smack, but Park quickly ducked out of the way. “Well, at least he had flair and charisma. Normal punches are so lame that people go to sleep from boredom. Just wait till I hit someone with the One Inch Punch. You won’t be calling me a fu -- fricking doofus when the crowd goes nuts.”

“Pfffttt!” Yoona chuffed dismissively. “You’ll never get that shit to work in a real match. You can't even get it to work when I'm giving you free shots right now.”

Camille narrowed her eyes and sneered, “Oh yeah? Let's make a bet. Any time I land that punch in a match, you have to wear that schoolgirl outfit to bed. You know the one. Do your hair up in pigtails, too.”

“You're such a pervert, Cam” Yoona admonished. “Why can’t you have a nice, wholesome fetish? One that won’t land you on a pedophile watchlist.”

“Hey! Just because you have boobs like an eight year old doesn’t make me a pedophile!” retorted Camille.

Yoona gasped in shock. “Ouch. Ouch! When did you get so fucking savage, Cosworth?”

Camille cackled triumphantly. She didn’t have much of a penchant for trash-talking, so to defeat her loud-mouthed girlfriend in snark-to-snark combat was a rare occasion worth celebrating with her best evil genius laugh.

“Hmmpf!” Yoona puffed indignantly. “Well I accept your bet under one condition. Any time you fail to land that punch, YOU have to wear that slutty schoolgirl outfit --”

“Sure,” Cosworth shrugged, “I don’t have a problem with that.”

“-- to the ring for your next match,” Park added, a malicious gleam in her eyes.

Camille’s expression turned grim and serious, and she swallowed hard before she spoke again, “You’re on, A-cup.”

“B-cup! You know that, dammit!” Yoona hissed as Cosworth resumed laughing. “That’s it, pedobear. I’m going to kick your ass into next week -- as soon as I use the ladies’ room.”

Camille grinned as she watched Yoona pad off to the locker room in the back of the FAWN training facility. What was supposed to be a one week trip to Orlando turned into something more permanent when Camille had been offered a main roster spot as a regular on the House Show rotation immediately after her win over Marvela Marcille, and she was delighted that her girlfriend was finally joining her from Bangor. The FAWN executives had decided Yoona’s rubber match against Paulette Severe would take place in the Madhouse under Apartment House Wrestling rules, which meant that both wrestlers had been sent down to Orlando from the Jungle. Camille hoped that Yoona would similarly secure a place on the main roster with a win over Paulette.

Quite frankly, the rules and venue for Yoona’s ultimate battle against her nemesis bothered Cosworth to no small degree. She had watched enough FAWN matches to know that AHW fights tended to end in sex, and the mental image of her lover so intimately entangled with another woman made her stomach churn. It was inevitable, of course. Being either a victim or a perpetrator of a sexual attack was par for the course for the ladies of FAWN, especially for someone such as Park who was more than willing to get catty with her opponents at every opportunity. Accepting certain realities didn’t mean Camille had to like it, however, thus she was planning on drinking herself into an alcoholic stupor regardless of the outcome of Yoona’s match.

Perhaps she was being too self-centered though, Camille thought to herself. In a worst case scenario, at least it would be preferable for Yoona to lose by surrendering an orgasm rather than having her feet and ankles devastated once again by a brutal submission hold.

Cosworth angrily shook her head. Such a line of thinking was defeatist, and now more than ever she needed to have faith in Yoona’s victory. With the match taking place behind the closed doors of the Madhouse, direct physical intervention was out of the question, thus faith and belief were the only ways she had left to support her girlfriend. Even so, Camille’s blood boiled as she recalled how Yoona had been left crippled and limping for weeks after her second battle with Paulette.

Deciding to channel her rage into something marginally productive, Camille walked over to a heavy bag hanging by a chain from the ceiling. She held out her left arm out at shoulder level, touched her outstretched fingers against the faux-leather surface of the bag, and pictured Paulette's sneering face in front of her hand.

Hips twist. Abs tense. Shoulder flexes. Fist extends. Smack.

The bag didn't even move. Camille took a breath and reset her position to try again.

Hips twist. Abs tense. Shoulder flexes. Fist extends. Smack.

And again.

Hips twist. Abs tense. Shoulder flexes. Fist extends. Smack.

And again.

Hips twist. Abs tense. Shoulder flexes. Fist extends. Smack.

And again.

Hips twist. Abs tense. Shoulder flexes. Fist extends. Smack.

“AAAAAAAUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!” Camille screamed towards the ceiling, furious at herself for not being able to connect with the one inch punch, and furious at Paulette for being Paulette. Somewhere in the back of her head, Cosworth imagined the haughty laughter of the dominatrix taunting her.

Camille raked a hand through her long brown hair, practically hyperventilating with frustration and rage. It took the better part of a minute for her to get control of herself and settle back into her stance, left arm out and left leg forward. Once more she imagined Paulette's face on the heavy bag, and summoned every last ounce of righteous fury in her body.

Gotta punch harder, Camille thought to herself.

Hips twist. Abs tense. Shoulder flexes. Fist extends. Smack.

Harder!

Hips twist. Abs tense. Shoulder flexes. Fist extends. Smack.

Harder!

Hips twist. Abs tense. Shoulder flexes. Fist extends. Smack.

HARDER!

Hips twist. Abs tense. Shoulder flexes. Fist extends.

BOOOOOOOOM!

The heavy bag flew back on its chain as if struck by a cannonball.

“IT WORKS!!!” Camille exclaimed, her anger immediately giving way to astonishment. “HAHAHA! I KNOW KUNG FU -- AARRGH!!!”

She was so busy congratulating herself that she forgot to get out of the way when the 150 pound bag came swinging back towards her. Camille took the impact directly on her chest and belly, knocking her to the mat in a backwards roll. To her credit, Cosworth popped up to her feet almost immediately.

“I MEANT TO DO THAT!” she reflexively shouted to no one as her face flushed red from embarrassment.

Fortunately there was no one else in the area to witness that mishap. All the other wrestlers had departed earlier in the evening before Camille and Yoona had arrived for a late night sparring session. As her embarrassment faded, Camille realized that Yoona had been gone for nearly ten minutes now.

“Probably watching porn again,” Cosworth sighed to herself as she walked back to the locker rooms to look for her girlfriend.

“Yooooonnnaaaaa, guess what I diiiiiiiiid,” she said in a sing-song voice as she entered the central changing area.

Contrary to expectations, Yoona was not watching pornography. Instead, she was sitting on a bench, hunched over looking at a photo in her hands. Camille took a seat next to her and looked at the picture too.

“Wow! It’s you!” Cosworth said, stating the obvious. “You look so different though. Skinnier. More pale. More...hmm...unassuming and reserved, I guess. Never would have guessed you were a sex machine with a talent for hitting people in the head and tying them in knots.”

“It was my nineteenth birthday, back when I still danced ballet in Seoul,” Yoona explained, her voice quiet and somber. “I had just been named chief understudy to the prima ballerina for the national troupe a few weeks ago, so it was a big cause for celebration.”

“Do you miss it?” asked Camille. “Dancing, that is.”

Park shook her head and sighed, “I miss the way my mom and dad looked at me whenever I danced. They were so happy, so proud. I was good, Cam. One of the best in the whole country. That’s why I wanted to have the FAWN World Champion belt with me the next time I saw them. I wanted them to be proud of Yoona the wrestler the same way they were proud of Yoona the ballerina.”

Camille frowned. Judging from her body language, tone of voice, and the fact that she had gone more than five sentences without using profanity, Yoona was clearly not her usual self.

“I’m out of time, Cam. A FAWN intern left this picture in an envelope wedged in my locker,” Park continued as she flipped the photo over, revealing a series of Korean characters printed on the back. “It says, ‘We still remember.’ Cam, this is from my parents, and I think they’re coming to Orlando to see me.”

“Oh -- Oh my God,” Camille nervously stuttered, her thoughts racing a mile a minute. “I’m going to meet your family? I'm going to meet your family! Oh geez, do they speak English? I've forgotten all my Korean! I never knew any Korean! Wait, I think it's coming back to me! Konichiwa, ni hao ma! No, that's not --”

Yoona took Cosworth’s hand and squeezed gently. “Cam, stop. Listen to me. They don't know. About you. About FAWN. About what I've been doing these last four and a half years.”

“W-what?” Camille blurted. “But you send them emails everyday. I’ve seen you write emails everyday. Our first night together, you were --”

Park’s voice became even more quiet, barely above a whisper. “I never sent those emails. Never had the courage to. That perfect, traditional Korean daughter they knew is gone. I'm not even sure she was real to begin with. Either way I'm such a different person now and I don't know what they're going to think when they see me and see what I do.”

In the months that they had been together, Yoona had never talked much about her life in Korea or what brought her to America, and Cosworth never pressed the issue. Clearly, it was not the happiest topic for Yoona, but Camille had just the thing to cheer her up and take her mind off things.

“Let’s talk more later. I’m going to take a shower,” Camille said as she stood up and stripped naked. “Care to join me?”

“Sorry, Cam,” Yoona said without looking up from her photo. “I’m not feeling up to it.”

Camille was so shocked that she was speechless. This was the first time she could remember Yoona ever rejecting an open invitation for sex, and being turned down by her nymphomaniac girlfriend hurt her self-esteem to a surprising degree. She turned around and began trudging to the showers alone.

“Cam, wait,” called Yoona, making eye contact for the first time since Cosworth walked into the locker room. “Anyoung hashimnikka.”

“Anyoung ha -- what?” Camille asked.

“Anyoung hashimnikka,” Park repeated. “Say that to my mom and dad when you see them.”

Camille smiled and nodded, then continued on her way to the showers, feeling much better than just a few seconds prior. A minute later, Yoona heard the sound of water rushing from the showerhead, followed closely by Camille’s voice as she repeatedly and loudly butchered the pronunciation of the Korean greeting she had just learned.

Alone in the locker room once more, Yoona carefully put the picture away, set her head in her hands, and bawled her eyes out.

----FIGHT NIGHT----

Camille leaned against the railing of the second level balcony at the FAWN arena, lost in her thoughts as she waited for the Yoona’s ultimate battle against Paulette Severe to start. She certainly could have gotten ringside seats instead, but the only match she was interested in watching tonight was going to be broadcast from the Madhouse and the second tier seats offered the best line of sight to the FAWNtron, the affectionate fan nickname given to the massive cube-like structure hanging above the center of the ring with giant plasma screens on four of its sides.

She took a sip from her seven dollar arena beer, then immediately crinkled her nose and pursed her lips. Having been a poor college student until just a couple of months ago, Cosworth was no stranger to cheap tasting beer, but this really took the cake. It was practically --

“Like soda water and food coloring, isn’t it?” interjected a man to her right. “You’d think for as much as they charge they could get some of the good stuff. Personally, I think they’re watering down the drinks on purpose so we don’t get too drunk and rowdy.”

“Hmm, yeah, I guess,” she replied absentmindedly without taking her eyes off the FAWNtron.

Camille was preoccupied with concern over Yoona’s mental and emotional state. Ever since receiving the picture from her parents two weeks ago, Park had not been her usual self. The normally boisterous and carefree Korean was suddenly reticent, humorless, and sullen. She became wholly uninterested in sparring or having sex or playing video games or watching movies or going to bars or any of her usual hobbies. Most distressingly, Yoona often locked herself in the bathroom to cry alone. Of course, she denied it when Cosworth confronted her, offering up a myriad of flimsy excuses ranging from allergies to food poisoning.

At first Camille had tried her best to be comforting and supportive despite not knowing what exactly was wrong, but Yoona had stonewalled her at every turn. Left to her own devices, Cosworth’s mind wandered and fixated on the worst case scenarios.

Perhaps Yoona wasn’t ready for her parents to meet her girlfriend.

Perhaps she would never be ready.

Perhaps her girlfriend wasn’t her girlfriend at all, rather just a summer fling that had nearly run its course.

Perhaps --

“Are you okay?” asked the man from earlier as he tapped Cosworth on the shoulder. “I know the beer is bad, but it’s hardly worth tearing up over.”

That finally shook Camille free from her pitiful thoughts, and she turned her head to look at the man who was talking to her. He was clean shaven and had his dark hair slicked to one side -- Camille couldn't quite put a number on his age, anything from 35 to 50 would have been plausible.

“Allergies to crappy beer,” she said with a smile as she rubbed the corner of her right eye with her thumb. “Have we met before? I feel like I’ve seen your face somewhere.”

The man chuckled, “Have you ever seen ‘Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon?’ Some people tell me I look like the shorter, uglier, less cool brother of Chow-Yun Fat.”

His eyes widened in recognition. “Hey, I know you too! You’re that new wrestler, aren't you? Camille Cosworth? Yeah! You are! Call me Mark, I'm a big fan. I especially love your ring entrance! Are you using Wonder Woman's music from the Batman and Superman movie?”

“Uhh, yeah, haha” Cosworth chuckled, glad to have something to take her mind off Yoona. “I thought the music gave off that really awesome warrior princess vibe. Does it come off as too grandiose?”

“No! Not at all!” replied Mark. “I, myself, have always been partial to Superman. Always thought he was the most human and the most relatable of the superheroes.”

“Oh yeah,” said Camille with a good-natured but sarcastic roll of her eyes, “I can totally identify with the invincible alien sun god who sees all, hears all, flies faster than light, and casually punches out planets. Mm-hmm. Totally relatable.”

Mark raised an eyebrow and grinned, “Don’t forget the laser eyes and freeze breath.”

Before Camille could respond, the FAWNtron flickered to life with a video feed broadcast from the Madhouse.

First was a pre-taped segment showing the latest renovations to the penthouse section. The suite had been subdivided into three rooms, two identical master bedrooms complete with bathrooms separated by an adjoining den. The decor had been redone in antique Victorian style as viewed through the French eyes and sensibilities of Louis XV. Clearly, the interior decorator had taken more than a few suggestions from Paulette based on the high-class Parisian pleasure houses where the dominatrix plied her trade.

The walls and windows were draped with lavish burgundy fabrics. Faux candles set in very real, golden candelabras mounted on the walls provided ambience and lighting. Large, plush Oriental rugs covered the hardwood floors in all three rooms. Inside each bedroom was a king sized bed adorned with the finest silk sheets and overstuffed pillows, and sandwiched between headboards and footboards intricately carved from rich mahogany. The den was furnished with a pair of luxurious chaise lounges situated around a small, wooden coffee table. Framed in one wall was an authentic Victorian-era fireplace, and against the opposite wall was a tall, free-standing bookshelf containing the leather-bound works of famous French authors ranging from Voltaire to Dumas to Verne to Sartre.

At the conclusion of the tour, the feed went live to the den where the tall, gangly figure of referee Algernon ‘Al’ Carpenter stood alone. Even the traditional camera crew was absent, as the FAWN production team was experimenting with a trio of new high definition, drone mounted cameras that were said to be less obtrusive and more maneuverable. Carpenter’s presence was a statutory formality. With the normal rules of the ring abrogated, the only things left for him to do were to signal the official start and end of the match, and then declare the winner for the record keepers.

The speakers inside the Madhouse and the FAWN arena simultaneously crackled to life with the voice of the announcer, <<Ladies and gentlemen, this next match, broadcast live from the Madhouse, is to be contested under modified Apartment House Wrestling rules. There will be no pins, knockouts, disqualifications, or stoppages. A wrestler can only win by forcing her opponent to submit while on her own designated bed. Now introducing our first wrestler, hailing from Seoul, South Korea, Yoona Park!>>

Yoona let out a long, shuddering sigh as she prepared to open the door of her assigned bedroom and walk out in front of the cameras. In front of the audience. In front of her family.

She had specifically requested the changes to her ring introduction as a way of showing that she too still remembered. She was from Seoul, not San Diego, and her name was not simply Yoona, it was Yoona Park. Her chosen wardrobe reflected her mindset as well. Whereas most wrestlers wore racy lingerie underneath their bathrobes for their penthouse battles, Yoona was wearing a baby blue camisole with an attached skirt that extended to just above her knees. As far as nightwear goes it would have been conservative even for a Stepford wife, and for a FAWN wrestler of her proclivities it was downright puritanical.

Of course, that was the point. Yoona wasn’t so angelic or innocent, but this was the image of her that her parents had in their minds when they had last seen her. If nothing else, then seeing their daughter as they last remembered her would help ease their shock over the type of life she lived nowadays.

<<Introducing Yoona Park!>> the speakers blared again, a not so subtle prompt for her to hurry up and get the show on the road.

Park put a trembling hand on the door knob. Instead of opening the door, however, she locked it.

It was too sudden. Yoona had long thought about how her reunion with her mother and father might go. How she would explain why she left. How she would present herself. How she would reconcile. Now that the moment was nearly upon her, she was wholly unprepared. She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the door, trying to gather her thoughts.

It had been more than four years since she had abruptly left her entire life behind. Park wondered how things would have been different if she had stayed. Her ballet career definitely would have been over regardless, as her ligaments and tendons would have snapped for good well before she accrued another four years’ worth of wear and tear in those horrible, horrible ballet shoes. The only question was if she would make prima before that happened. Given that she had been chief understudy for just a year when she had left, most likely not. On that front, she was always destined to disappoint her father.

Outside of ballet, at her current age of twenty-four she almost certainly would have already been married off to the wealthy scion of some other billion dollar conglomerate. A child or two would not have been unlikely either. When she was eighteen she had briefly dated the youngest heir to the massive LG chaebol at the urging of their respective families who had hopes that a successful relationship would lead to a consolidation of business interests and political influence. The young man himself was nice enough and had treated her well, but they soon fell apart over complaints that Yoona was frigid and unreceptive in bed.

She couldn't contain a mirthless chuckle at the irony of that particular recollection.

<<Yoona Park!>> the voice over the speakers announced once more.

When the Korean wrestler still didn’t appear, Carpenter gently knocked on the door and then unsuccessfully tried the knob. He had the keys to every lock in the penthouse hanging from a loop on his belt, but he didn’t want to force the issue until he had exhausted every alternative. Instead, he turned towards a floating camera drone and signaled to the door of the other bedroom.

<<Please welcome, from Paris, France, Paulette Severe!>> the speakers boomed.

PAULETTE SEVERE:


The door to Paulette’s bedroom swung open, and out stepped the dominatrix. In accordance with AHW customs, Paulette had ditched her boots and the management had prohibited her from bringing her bullwhip after the fiasco during her last match with Park. Aside from those two alterations, the French wrestler was dressed in her usual ring attire of a white corset with matching sheer white satin gloves, panties, stockings, and garters underneath her robe.

Paulette disrobed and tossed the garment onto one of the chaise lounges. Then she sashayed her way across the den and pressed her cheek against the door leading to Yoona’s designated bedroom.

“What’s the matter? Feeling under the weather, ma cherie?” Paulette purred.

The sound of her nemesis’ voice immediately triggered a mix of loathing and apprehension in Yoona. At the peak of her powers, Park was more than a match for the French woman. She had completely dominated the action even in their second match until she was undone by a single fatal mistake, and that was easy enough to remedy with a slight adjustment in technique.

The problem was that in her current state, she was nowhere near her best. The crippling anxiety over reuniting with her family had frayed her nerves and left her mentally drained. Moreover, she had not been sleeping or eating well the last couple of weeks, leaving her physically exhausted as well. As she was now she stood no chance whatsoever, and the worst part was that she was smart enough to realize this.

Yoona briefly considered forfeiting the match. She had demanded this rubber match in order to exact revenge, but the truth of the matter was that Camille had already accomplished that when she slammed the dominatrix through the announcer’s table. Even so, a flicker of anger suddenly flared to life in Yoona’s mind. Cosworth had not escaped that encounter with Paulette unscathed either.

Yoona vividly remembered the look of humiliation on Camille’s face as Paulette coerced her into kneeling and slapping herself over and over again.

She remembered the two lashes that Camille took, one to the back and another to the face.

She remembered the bruise.

She remembered the scar.

The scar that would be there forever...

The embers of her anger erupted into flames, burning away all the anxiety, the trepidation, and the doubt until there was nothing left of her thoughts save for a white hot inferno of rage.

Yoona unlocked the door and yanked it open, coming face to face with Paulette.

The dominatrix grinned like a Cheshire Cat. “So --”

She barely got a word in edgewise before Yoona punched her square in the mouth.

The French woman stumbled backwards with a yelp of indignation as Park shrugged out of her own robe then threw it in Paulette’s face. Momentarily blinded by the bathrobe covering her head, Severe was caught off-guard when Yoona’s flying knee strike landed flush against her jaw.

The brain rattling impact immediately rendered Paulette as limp as a wet noodle. Yoona caught her as she crumpled and fired three more knees into Paulette’s chest and abdomen before tossing her face first to the floor. Bloodlust still not sated, the enraged Korean wrestler walked over to her motionless, defenseless opponent and unleashed a series of vicious stomps to the back of her head.

WHUMP!

WHUMP! WHUMP! WHUMP!

Brutalizing Paulette didn’t feel nearly as good as Yoona thought it would. On the contrary, it just made her even more angry.

WHUMP! WHUMP! WHUMP! WHUMP!

After the eighth stomp still failed to produce catharsis, Yoona relented on her assault and paced around the den, her face warped into a hateful scowl. Eventually her eyes settled on the fireplace, and a wicked thought entered her head. She went over and retrieved an iron poker from the hearth, its tip glowing red hot from the flames.

Carpenter went livid when he realized what Park was intending to do. He rushed over and caught the Korean’s arm moments before she pressed the searing hot metal into her opponent’s cheek.

“NO! LET GO OF ME!” Yoona screamed, straining against the referee’s grip. “YOU HAVE NO AUTHORITY HERE!”

The sheer vehemence in her voice made Al cringe as he struggled to pry the iron poker from her hand. “No! Stop it! This is too far! You’ll be banned from every fed in the country!”

“I DON’T CARE! YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT SHE’S DONE!” Park roared. “SHE DESERVES IT! SHE DESERVES IT!”

With a supreme effort, Carpenter wrenched the poker free from Yoona’s hands, causing her tumble to the floor with a furious shriek. He promptly tossed the entire rod into the fireplace where the flames made it irretrievable.

“It’s not worth it,” the referee pleaded. “I know she humiliated you before, but it’s not worth --”

“You think this is about me?!” Yoona asked with a mix of outrage and incredulity as she stood up and glared at Carpenter.

Al held up his hands in a placating gesture, although that didn’t prevent Park from roughly shoving him in the chest and forcing him to stumble a few steps backwards.

“No, you idiot. This is not about me,” Yoona said. Her voice was tranquil but her eyes still blazed with anger. “This is about balancing the scales for someone who sacrificed her body to protect me from that sadistic monster lying on the floor.”

At the FAWN arena, Camille’s eyes grew as wide as dinner plates, and she covered her gaping mouth with her hand.

Park shoved Carpenter again as she spoke, “Have you seen what a bullwhip does to a person? The way it leaves an ugly, purple bruise that turns a sickly yellow and green as it spreads out? Do you know how I felt every time Camille rolled onto her back in her sleep and woke up screaming in pain in the middle of the night?”

Yoona punctuated her questions with another shove.

“That wasn’t the worst of it,” she continued. “Her back has healed and the bruise has faded, those are nothing more than memories now. But this…”

She reached out with a finger and traced a line on Al’s left eyebrow.

“...this scar she’ll carry for the rest of her life. It’s small -- so small that you probably wouldn’t notice if you didn’t already know it was there. But I know. Oh, I know.”

Yoona shoved Carpenter again, and now he was standing in the doorway to her designated bedroom.

When she spoke again, her voice was bitter and quivering, “So now whenever I look at the woman I love --”

An indescribable sound gurgled out from Camille’s mouth, some twisted combination of a laugh and a sob.

“-- I see the scar of my weakness. I see the scar of my failure. And every time I see that scar I’m reminded of the miserable wretch who put it there and my hatred for her festers and rankles. You have no idea how it feels. You have no right to pass judgement. So get the FUCK out of my way, because I am taking my pound of flesh, whether you like it or not.”

Park reached out as if to shove Al again, but this time she grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him in as she threw a headbutt into the bridge of his nose. Carpenter fell to the ground dazed, with blood pouring from his nostrils. Park snatched the ring of keys from his waist, then slammed the door shut and jammed the lock by breaking one of the keys in the keyhole, effectively removing the meddling referee from her quest for vengeance.

After watching the events in the Madhouse play out on the FAWNtron, Mark nudged Camille with the point of his elbow. “In your interviews, didn’t you say you two were just friends and colleagues?”

Cosworth shot him an intense, withering glare.

“S-sorry, dumb question,” Mark apologized sheepishly. “Let’s, uh, let’s just watch the match.”

After disposing of the referee, Yoona tried to drag her opponent back to her feet by the hair to continue the beatdown, but her extended interaction with Carpenter had given the dominatrix the time she needed to recover. Before the Korean wrestler could resume her offense, Paulette rammed her fist directly between Yoona’s thighs.

Momentarily paralyzed and bent over by the explosion of pain in her groin, Park could muster no defense when Paulette trapped her in a vise-like side headlock and sprinted towards a wall with her opponent in tow. The crown of Yoona’s head slammed into the wall at full speed, leaving a basketball sized crater in the plasterboard. The collision left her glassy eyed and punch drunk, though she managed to stagger a few steps before she collapsed backwards onto the floor.

Unfortunately, Yoona managed to fall down right in front of the bookcase. With an evil gleam in her eye Severe tipped it over, causing it to fall directly on top of her opponent’s torso and pinning her arms. Park screamed in pain as her chest and abdomen were crushed under the combined weight of the bookcase and the many books it held.

To make matters worse the dominatrix casually took a seat on top of the overturned bookcase directly above the Korean’s chest, adding her 132 pounds to the weight that was already threatening to flatten and pulverize Yoona’s organs and ribs. Deciding that this still wasn’t sufficiently painful or humiliating for her opponent, Paulette peeled off her stockings and garters, rolled them up, and crammed them into Yoona’s gasping mouth. Then she forcefully pressed the soles of her feet into Park’s face to add a double foot smother to Yoona’s predicament.

Under most circumstances, a foot smother was used as a show of dominance over an already beaten opponent rather than a serious maneuver in a competitive match, but with her mouth gagged and her arms pinned, Yoona was in very real danger of asphyxiation. Her only chance was to free her arms, and so she began to writhe and wiggle even though her struggling accelerated the speed at which she was burning through her air supply.

“Humiliation looks good on you, ma cherie. After this match I will make you my own personal pet and we will play these games everyday,” Paulette taunted. “You should be flattered, it’s a much more noble station than the common whore you are now. I’ll evennnnarrrrrRRRGGGHH!!”

Yoona pulled her arms free and drove her thumbs into pressure points in the dominatrix’s feet. Severe’s entire body painfully spasmed from the nerve attack, and Park took advantage by grabbing her by the ankles and yanking her to the floor before pulling the improvised gag out of her own mouth. With the weight pressing down on her reduced, she pushed her hands against the side of the bookcase and began squirming her way out, inch by agonizing inch. For every bit of her body that she freed, it only made the pressure that much greater on the parts of her that were still trapped.

After what felt like an eternity, Park managed to get the entirety of her chest out from under the bookcase. The crushing force on her soft abdomen was excruciating now, but Yoona was nonetheless greatly relieved that she could fully breathe once more. She took a few seconds to rest and recover, and then resumed her efforts to free herself.

Suddenly, Yoona cried out in pain as she was smashed in the face by the spine of a large, hardcover book. Paulette had recovered from the nerve attack and now she was trying to cave in Park’s skull with the unabridged version of Les Miserables. Yoona aborted her escape and instead brought her arms to cover up her head, though from her disadvantageous position she could only manage a feeble defense and Severe was relentless as she repeatedly smashed Yoona’s arms, head, neck, and chest with the massive tome.

“No one to save you now, ma cherie,” the dominatrix sneered as she used her weight to press the spine of the book into Park’s throat.

Yoona choked and gagged, ineffectively flailing and slapping at Paulette. Her vision was beginning to blur and fade out when she spotted her salvation out of the corner of her eyes. Camera drone number three had flown in very close in order to get a shot of the action. Without a moment’s hesitation, Park stretched out her left hand, grabbed the drone by its frame, and shoved it directly into Severe’s face.

The dominatrix unleashed a high-pitched scream of anguish and terror as the plastic propeller scraped against her face. She immediately abandoned her attack and ran off to the other side of the den, trying to escape the drone. Unfortunately, the other propeller had gotten tangled in her curly blonde tresses, making it impossible to pull it away from her face. She fell to the floor shrieking and flailing as the FAWN production team scrambled to remotely deactivate the drone.

With her attacker occupied elsewhere, Yoona was able to finish pulling herself out from under the bookcase, although the damage she had already taken was grave. Her ribs ached and throbbed with every breath, her gut churned and convulsed painfully, and even her legs were cramping and seizing. Across the room Paulette had finally extricated herself from the now inactive drone, a few locks of golden hair still wrapped around its propeller. Park took a great amount of satisfaction in noting the angry red scratches on the right side of Severe’s face. They were too shallow to leave scars -- most likely they would heal completely within the week -- but it was still some small measure of payback for what she had done to Camille.

Yoona broke into a stumbling, faltering run and shoulder checked the French woman up against a wall. She followed up with a series of elbow smashes to the head combined with knee strikes to the abdomen and groin. The lingering effects of being crushed under the bookcase had robbed the Korean wrestler of much of her strength, however, so her blows did not have nearly their normal effect. After soaking up a number of hits, Paulette simply wrapped her arms around Yoona’s torso and gave a brisk squeeze, abruptly bringing Park’s offense to a screeching halt.

“AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” Yoona shrieked. She felt a few pops and crackles in her ribcage, which she prayed was just the cartilage and not the bone itself.

Encouraged by the Korean’s agony, Paulette cinched the bearhug tighter and lifted Yoona a few inches off the ground. She was getting ready to send another powerful pulse through her opponent’s battered ribcage when Park suddenly leaned in and chomped down hard on the French woman’s left ear, and it was Paulette’s turn to scream.

It took all of the dominatrix’s self control to not reflexively hurl Yoona away, because doing so would have likely torn off her own ear. Instead, she dropped to one knee and smashed Park’s groin onto her thigh. The Inverted Atomic Drop made Yoona’s jaw slacken and Paulette pushed her to the ground before staggering off to tend to her ear, swearing up a storm in French.

Yoona crawled to her hands and knees, and that’s when she noticed the blood dripping from her lips and staining the white rug underneath her. She didn’t think she had drawn blood with her bite, then Yoona realized that she tasted the blood not only on her lips, but also in the back of her throat. It was her blood, and she was hurt more badly than she realized. No matter, she thought, there was still a job to finish. Park wiped her lips with the back of hand, swallowed the rest of the blood in her mouth, and forced herself to stand.

Paulette was still holding her aching ear and a quarter of the way through her vocabulary of swear words when Yoona speared her in the gut. Yoona kept driving through with her legs even after her shoulder made contact with Severe’s belly, eventually carrying both women into the remaining, unlocked bedroom. The dominatrix slammed backwards into the mahogany footboard of the bed with a grunt of pain, then fell to the floor. Park immediately sat on her chest and pinned her down. Instead of her usual ground and pound, however, Yoona elected to wrap both hands around her nemesis’ throat and throttle her lights out.

The two remaining drones floated through the doorway, continuing to dutifully record the action. The operators learned their lesson and kept out of arm’s reach, lest their very expensive piece of machinery be used as a makeshift weapon once more. Rather than an extreme closeup, they settled for a wide angle shot of the wrestlers and the surrounding bedroom.

“Oh! Oh my, that’s certainly not something I was expecting to see,” commented Mark as he looked at the FAWNtron.

It took Camille a second longer to catch on, and then her face froze in horror. “Oh no. No no no. Get out of there, Yoona. Get out of there! GET OUT OF THERE!”

Cosworth’s pleas were in vain. Even if she had been in the same room, Yoona was far too intensely focused on strangling her opponent to process any sound save for Paulette’s gurgling and gagging. There were far more effective chokes than squeezing the windpipe like a rank amateur, but a blood choke was far too quick and painless for Park’s tastes. For her hated nemesis, Yoona wanted to have the visceral satisfaction of wringing Severe’s neck and seeing the light slowly fade from her eyes.

Paulette had initially tried to fight back by gouging the Korean’s eyes or pushing against her face, but a few vicious bites to her fingers convinced her that was a poor plan. Now, with her consciousness slipping away by the second, she feebly raised a hand and pointed to the side.

“Hrrrrkkkk--wee---hrrrrkk,” Severe gurgled. “We still --- hnnnnngggghh -- re --- hrrrrrrkkk -- remember…”

Hearing that phrase briefly cut through Yoona’s haze of anger and her eyes widened in surprise, although she did not loosen her grip

“WHAT?! WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?!” she demanded. “WHO TOLD YOU TO SAY THAT?!”

The French woman could offer no more words, but Yoona finally noticed her pointing hand. She followed the line of sight traced by Paulette’s hand across the floor and up onto the wall.

Yoona nearly fainted from shock when she saw what was on the wall, and just like that her inferno of rage was extinguished.

It was the same picture of her on her nineteenth birthday that she had received in the mail a couple of weeks ago, only blown up to movie poster size. There were other pictures of her too, all from the life she left behind in Seoul. Studio pictures of her dolled up and in various costumes. Professional pictures of her dancing ballet on stage. Candid pictures of her at home. There were numerous newspaper and magazine clippings interspersed on the walls too. Yoona took her hands off Paulette’s neck, then got up and padded over to the walls to have a closer look.

The newspaper and magazine clippings were written in all sorts of different languages, running the gamut from Korean to Japanese to Chinese to English to French to Spanish to German. There were a few whose characters Yoona didn’t even recognize, although she guessed they were likely Cyrillic or Arabic. The headlines written in the languages she could read all said more or less the same thing, “SOUTH KOREAN BILLIONAIRE HEIRESS MISSING.”

Yoona turned directly to one of the hovering drones and spoke in Korean, her voice soft and pensive, “Mom? Dad? I don’t understand the meaning of this. Are you watching me now? Are you here now? It’s been such a long time, I’ve missed you terribly and I --”

Paulette laughed uproariously, apparently recovered from her throttling. She didn’t speak Korean, but given the circumstances it was easy enough to roughly guess what Park was saying.

“Oh, I’m sorry, ma cherie,” the dominatrix apologized disingenuously. “I’m afraid mommy dearest isn’t here. Nor is daddy. I was the one who sent you that picture. ‘We still remember’ or however you say it in your native tongue. Did I get your hopes up?”

Yoona’s blood froze in her veins. Eyes wide with shock, she sputtered, “H-how did you --?”

“You should have never left Seoul,” the French woman taunted. “Did you think that no one would find out? Did you think the only daughter of two South Korean billionaires could just disappear and no one would ask questions? It’s a wonder no one’s recognized you until now. Your pictures were plastered all over the international papers for months. Even now your story and your pictures are still in the news archives, as you can see from the decorations I put up before the match.”

Yoona’s breathing was heavy and rapid and her eyes darted wildly around the room, looking at all the moments and memories from the life she left behind.

“People were wondering if you had eloped. Or if you had defected to North Korea. Or if one day your rotting, bloated corpse would just wash up on a beach somewhere. Quite frankly, I think any of those options would have been preferable to being reduced to a cheap harlot forced to fight and debase herself for the entertainment of a room of boorish Neanderthals,” continued Paulette. “Then one day the tabloids suddenly stopped. No more news about the lost girl from Seoul. It was as if the whole world just gave up looking for you. Isn’t that strange? Why would a pair of loving parents with all the resources in the world give up so quickly on finding their only child? Unless…”

Park stared at the dominatrix, eyes wild and panicked.

“Unless they already found her,” finished Severe. “They found her, and they were so disgusted by what she had become that they didn’t want anything to do with her any more.”

The last remnants of Yoona’s fighting spirit evaporated and her eyes filled with tears. Could it be true? Could her worst fear have come true? It was a terrible thought, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that Paulette was right. She hadn’t exactly gone to great lengths to hide her identity in the last four years. Had her parents really wanted to find her, it should have been easy. Were they really so disappointed that they would disown her?

The tears fell from her eyes as Yoona shook her head, quietly sobbing, “No, no, no, no…”

“These are your just desserts, ma cherie. It was you abandoned your family first,” sneered Paulette. “They loved you, nurtured you, raised you, and you discarded them like garbage. You’ve been a bad, bad girl and I’m going to punish you. You deserve every bit of the pain that's coming to you.”

Severe strode up to the near-catatonic Korean wrestler who offered no resistance when Paulette scooped her up and slammed her down across a posted knee with a Gut Buster slam. Yoona bounced off then curled into a ball on the floor, tightly hugging her much abused abdomen. A fit of coughing and gagging wracked her body and stained the rug with a few more splotches of red. Paralyzed from pain, she could only offer weak protest when Paulette pried her arms away from her belly and prepared to attack with a two-handed abdominal claw.

“No...wait...” Yoona barely managed to squeak out.

Her plea went either unheard or ignored, as Paulette squeezed with both hands while pushing down with her full upper body weight. Park’s entire body convulsed and her limbs flailed wildly as if electrocuted. Yoona opened her mouth to scream, but all that came out was a series of dry, heaving gasps.

“Beg,” commanded Paulette after a minute. All Yoona could respond with was a series of agonized croaks she continued to involuntarily thrash from the debilitating pain. If she still had command of her voice or her arms at this point, Park would have gladly begged or cried or tapped or done anything the dominatrix asked to get the torture to end. All of her attempts to indicate submission, however, were foiled by the wild, uncoordinated jerking of her body.

“BEG!” demanded Paulette with increasing frustration, not realizing that Yoona had been desperately trying to signal her surrender for the past fifteen seconds. Mistakenly thinking that the Korean wrestler was still resisting, Severe grit her teeth, and with a burst of strength, squeezed down with all her might. This was too much for poor Yoona. With a final, violent spasm, her eyes rolled back in her head and her body went slack as she passed out.

Back at the FAWN arena, Camille buried her head in her hands. Her eyes were dry, but she just couldn’t stomach watching anymore. “Oh God, why didn’t you tell me, Yoona?” she murmured to herself.

Mark laid a comforting hand on Cosworth’s back as he spoke, “It’s not true, you know. What the blonde said was wrong. Her family didn’t give up on her.”

“How do you know that?” asked Camille.

“Because you’re still here,” the older man softly replied. “You’re her family now. So buck up and watch, no matter how hard it is, because she’s going to need you.”

Camille hesitated for a moment, then bit her bottom lip and nodded wordlessly. With a grim and serious expression on her face, she returned her attention to the FAWNtron just in time to see the dominatrix flip an unconscious Yoona onto her stomach.

Paulette folded Yoona’s right ankle into the crook of her left knee, forming a reverse figure four shape. She threaded her own right leg through the keyhole formed by Yoona’s legs from beneath, then bent Yoona’s left leg at the knee and tucked Yoona’s left ankle under her own right foot. Finally, Paulette laid on her back and crossed her left ankle over her right foot. With the dreaded Reverse Figure Four Leg Lock in place, Paulette began to slowly curl her legs and increase the pressure.

Soon, Park stirred to life with a moan of pain.

“Welcome back,” said Paulette in a mock sweet tone.

“W--what are you doing...?” Yoona asked groggily. There was still a sharp, stabbing pain in her upper right abdomen that was exacerbated with every breath. She knew something was broken, but she dared not think about it now.

“Oh this? This is one of my personal favorite holds,” answered the French woman, “I don’t use it much because it’s quite complicated to set up. Thank you for being so patient and cooperative, by the way. Here, have a taste of what it’s like.”

Paulette curled her legs again, forcing Yoona’s left leg to fold downwards against her own ankle and causing her to cry out in pain as an intense cramping sensation shot through her left calf.

Park realized she was finished. She was familiar with calf crusher type submissions, and she knew the outcome of resisting further. The pain in her left leg now was due to her calf muscle slowly tearing apart as it was crushed against the hard bones in her right ankle. A little more pressure and her left knee joint would pry apart, ripping ligaments, cartilage, and tendons. Even more pressure and finally her shin bone would snap just below the knee. It would be many surgeries and months or years of rehabilitation before she could even walk normally again.

The abdominal claw was the last straw that broke her body, and now the reverse figure four leglock broke her spirit. Yoona promptly slapped the ground a half dozen times. “Okay, okay I submit. You win, please don’t break my leg,” she pleaded.

Paulette laughed haughtily, “Ma cherie, did you forget the rules of the match? You're not escaping that easily.”

Park was gripped with fear as she realized her opponent had no intention of releasing the hold. “I can't take it, please no more,” she pleaded again.

The dominatrix only tightened the pressure. “I want to hear you beg and scream.”

“I BEG YOU STOP! STOOOOOP PLEASE NO MORE!” screamed Yoona at the top of her lungs.

“I think you can do better than that,” said Paulette. With a grunt of effort, she bore down and flexed her legs as hard as she could.

“AAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Yoona let loose a bloodcurdling scream as an explosion of pain tore through her calf.

Paulette cackled as she finally released the submission. “I love the sound of your screams, ma cherie.”

The audience back at the FAWN arena broke into a cacophony of boos. Humiliating an opponent was one thing, but trying to cripple a fellow wrestler was a crossing a line.

Of course, Severe didn’t hear any of it and she wouldn’t have cared even if she did. She just wanted to inflict as much pain as possible.

Park turned on to her back and gripped her left leg, eyes squeezed shut in pain. Thankfully, her opponent had not been able to muster enough force to do more damage than tear her calf muscle.

“Why?!” Yoona wailed, “Why are you doing this to me?!”

“Because I like hurting you. It makes me happy,” Paulette replied flatly.

She clasped the Korean’s right foot in her hands, and immobilized her leg by laying down and scissoring it between her own.

“Remember this move from earlier? You should be honored that I’m using your move. As they say, imitation is the greatest compliment. Now where was that pressure point...” Paulette mused as she pressed her thumbs into the arch of Yoona’s bare sole while she squeezed the single leg grapevine.

Yoona whimpered pitifully, “No...please…”

Seeing that her hold wasn't having the desired effect, the dominatrix adjusted the position of her thumb spikes and pressed again.

“Not this,” Yoona begged. “Please, any move but this…”

Paulette broke into a bloodthirsty sneer when she realized that Park’s increasing desperation meant she was getting close to the pressure point. She adjusted her thumbs again and pressed down hard.

“GGGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!” Yoona howled as the excruciating pain shot through the entire length of the nerve, going from her foot all the way to her hip and lower back.

“What’s the matter, ma cherie? Can’t stand the taste of your own medicine?” Severe cooed, sending another pulse through Park’s foot and eliciting another ear piercing shriek of pain.

Yoona was on the verge of ripping out her own hair, and her brain was delirious from the agony.

“HEEELLLPP MEEEE!!!” she screamed. “OH GOOOOOODDDDD SOMEONE! PLEASE JUST MAKE HER STOOOOOPPP!!!”

Paulette laughed like a maniac even as she increased the pressure. “Oh dear, it appears I’ve broken your mind as well as your body and spirit! There’s no one here to help you, ma cherie.”

Yoona continued screaming, “CAM! CAAAAAAMMM! WHERE ARE YOOOUUUU?!!!!! HEEELLLLPP MEEEE!!!”

Many miles away, Camille continued to impassively stare at the FAWNtron even as the entire arena fell silent except for the sound of Yoona desperately calling her name. The only outward sign of emotion she displayed was the way the veins in her neck stood out like cords.

More than a little unnerved by his neighbor’s seemingly supernatural calm, Mark quietly asked, “Would you mind telling me what’s going through your head?”

“I’m thinking about how many chair shots it takes to get to the Tootsie Roll center of Paulette’s skull,” came Camille’s flat, emotionless reply.

“Ah, revenge then,” said Mark. “But what if instead you could help her right now?”

When Cosworth didn’t respond after a few seconds, he continued talking, “You know why I relate to the invincible alien sun god who sees all, hears all, flies faster than light, and casually punches out planets? Because before he was all that, he was just another boy with a good family who loved him and taught him to do the right thing. I’d like to think there’s a bit of Superman inside all of us, actually. His abilities make him super, but it’s his heart that makes him a hero, because sometimes the greatest feats of heroism are the smallest of actions.”

Cosworth was still silent.

“Have you ever read ‘All Star Superman?’ It's the quintessential Superman story, an absolute must read. And sure, he performs all kinds of incredible feats like punching out a planet, but do you know what the most iconic scene is? The one page that has become ingrained in the cultural zeitgeist? There’s this teenage girl about to jump off a building, and Superman just gives her a hug and says --”

“‘You're much stronger than you think you are,’” finished Camille as her eyes widened with realization.

She looked towards the ring and spotted the announcers’ table. The two people on the left and middle were the broadcast announcers, their mics only fed audio to the TV audience. The man on the far right, however, was the ring announcer, and his voice was piped throughout both the FAWN arena and the Madhouse.

Camille leaned over the railing and looked down. She gauged it to be roughly a twelve foot drop to the aisle below.

“Hold my beer,” she commanded.

Mark took the plastic cup with a concerned look on his face. “The stairs are --”

Cosworth leapt out into the void.

“-- over there,” he finished in a flabbergasted tone as he watched Camille land with a graceful parkour roll and make a beeline for the announcers.

Meanwhile at the Madhouse, Yoona was too exhausted to continue screaming, reduced to inelegant blubbering and the occasional spasm of pain as Paulette continued to torture her with the pressure point attack.

“This is how your pathetic career ends, ma cherie,” said Severe, delighting in her opponent’s pain. “You are a quitter. You have always been a quitter. You turned your back on your family and now you suffer alone. I wonder where you’ll run to next, now that --”

<<Yoona…>> interrupted a voice over the speakers, soft and a bit hesitant.

Park instantly recognized the voice, and it seemed to dissipate the fog of pain clouding her mind. “C-Cam…?” she asked incredulously.

With a snarl of anger, Paulette redoubled her efforts to drive her thumbs into the Korean’s foot, but her latest attack seemed to have less effect than before.

<<She’s wrong, Yoona. You’re not alone. Not now, not ever,>> Cosworth continued, her voice becoming more steady and picking up strength as she went. <<I don’t know your mother or your father, and I cannot speak for them. What I do know is that I love you. I have loved you since the day I met you. And when you see this scar, remember that it was love for you that put it there.>>

A quick thinking member of the production team got one of the arena cameras trained on Camille as she stood on top of the announcers table giving her speech with a mic commandeered from the ring announcer, and then after a bit of fiddling, managed to get her video displayed on the FAWNtron in a picture-in-picture window inset within the action feed from the Madhouse.

Cosworth decided to open the emotional floodgates and roll with it. <<I am with you, Yoona! Now! Always! When your strength is not enough, I will give you mine! When you fall to pieces, I will put you back together! And when you are World Champion, I will strap the belt around your waist! So fight, Yoona! Fight! Fight and show this Moulin Rouge reject just how strong you really are! Fight so you can return to Korea with your head held high as a champion! Fight until ‘Yoona Park’ echoes through history and for the decades to come! Fight, because I will be fighting at your side every step of the way!>>

Park unleashed a primal roar, not of pain or rage, but of sheer determination. She could hardly move her left foot due to the wounded calf muscle, so instead she lifted the entire limb and brought her heel crashing down on Paulette’s face like a club.

Once.

Twice.

Three times, before Severe finally released her grip on Yoona’s other foot.

Freed from the single leg grapevine, the Korean wrestler quickly scrambled forward and mounted her opponent’s chest. Paulette threw up her arms to ward off the coming assault. Yoona was undeterred, however, and continued to mercilessly rain punches into the French woman’s arms and head. After nearly being crippled by her opponent, Park wasn’t going to take any more chances.

At the FAWN arena, Camille held the open mic skyward so that Yoona may hear the fans and draw strength from their cheers. Quickly catching on to Cosworth’s intentions, the audience roared back to life. In a surprising display of impromptu coordination, the FAWNatics broke into a chant.

“YOO-NA!” called one half of the arena.

“BOMA YE!” answered the other.

Hearing her name chanted by the crowd sent a surge of of adrenaline through Park’s body, and she redoubled her efforts to pound Paulette’s brain into pudding. Somewhere in the back of the head, she also made a mental note to find out what “boma ye” meant.

The beatdown continued.

“YOO-NA!”

Left hammerfist. Yoona’s right foot ached and throbbed from the abuse it just took.

“BOMA YE!”

Right cross. Right cross. Her left calf felt like it was on fire and she couldn’t feel or move her left foot at all.

“YOO-NA!”

Left-right combo. Right elbow smash. Worst of all was the excruciating stabbing sensation in her abdomen and ribcage.

“BOMA YE!”

Two handed overhead smash. None of her injuries mattered, she could get patched up later. Now was not the time for holding anything back.

“YOO-NA!”

A left straight slipped between the dominatrix’s arms and struck her flush in the windpipe. The French woman gasped for air and abandoned her defense as her hands went to her throat.

“BOMA YE!”

She grabbed a fist full of blonde hair in her left hand, and cock backed her right arm to deliver the coup de grace. Paulette was too busy choking and gagging to muster any resistance, and the bony point of Park’s right elbow smashed directly into her forehead and sent her off to the Land of Nod.

Yoona reared back her head roared again, a cathartic victory cry fueled by by all the frustration, rage, anxiety, and heartbreak she had experienced over the past couple of weeks. The sound reverberated throughout the penthouse, joined by the cheering of the fans piped in over the speakers. Negative emotions finally expended by the violent outburst, the Korean wrestler ran a hand through her hair and turned to one of the camera drones.

“Hi, Cam,” she said blithely, still perched on the chest of the unconscious dominatrix.

<<Hi, Yoona,>> Camille replied with a sigh of relief.

“Babe, great fucking speech, but next time you have some words of inspiration, can you fucking tell me before I get my shit wrecked?!” Yoona asked as she grabbed Paulette by the hair and started slowly dragging her to the other bedroom where Al Carpenter was still locked inside. With her anger sated, it was time to end the match, and the rules meant Park could only do that on her designated bed.

Foul-mouthed and snarky, Cosworth thought to herself with a laugh and a shake of her head. Yoona was back to her usual self.

“Hey Cam, did you really mean what you said about being with me, now and always? You’re not just saying that because you love the way I tickle your G-spot with my tongue, are you?”

Foul-mouthed, snarky, embarrassing, and sexually explicit at the most inappropriate times -- definitely back to her usual self. <<Well now I’m having second thoughts because you can’t keep our sex life private, but yeah, I meant it.>>

Park had dragged her unconscious foe halfway across the den. Her injured leg and abdomen were slowing her down greatly, but bantering back and forth with Cosworth at least took her mind off the pain. “Will you ride the wooden horses with me across the black salt sea?”

A large portion of the audience at the FAWN arena popped in response, though Camille was confused. <<A-Are you asking me to go to Seoul with you? I mean, sure, but I’d prefer a plane and, uh, not whatever a wooden horse is…>>

“Will you kill my enemies in their iron suits and tear down their stone houses?”

<<What?! Err...that’s a figurative question, right?>>

“Will you give me the Seven Kingdoms, the gift that was promised to me before the Mother of Mountains?”

<<Okay, I give up. I’m completely lost now.>>

“Goddamnit Cam, I thought you said you were going to watch Game of Thrones and get caught up,” said Yoona as she propped Paulette up against the locked door to the other bedroom.

The dominatrix was stirring to life, but Park preempted any counter-offensive by grabbing a handful of blonde hair and ramming Severe’s head against the door jamb. With Paulette leaning heavily against the door, Yoona limped back to the center of the den and picked up the small coffee table. She held it out in front of herself like a shield then charged forward as fast as her injured left leg would allow, smashing her opponent between the table and the door. The door jamb splintered from the force of the impact and broke inwards as both wrestlers tumbled to the floor of the bedroom.

“OH YEEEEAAAAHHH!” Yoona shouted, scaring Al Carpenter half to death. Locked in the bedroom with nothing to do for the last twenty minutes, Carpenter had pulled out his phone and was trying to add a Charmander to his Pokemon Go collection and he was not expecting the sudden intrusion.

<<Did -- did you just make a Kool Aid Man reference?>>

“Oh my fucking God, Game of Thrones goes over your head, but you immediately recognize the Kool Aid Man?! You’re such a fucking dork, Cosworth.”

Turning her attention back to the task at hand, Yoona pulled the dazed dominatrix out from under the wreckage of the coffee table and hauled her to her feet. With a scream of effort, she lifted the French woman across her shoulders in a Fireman’s Carry, her legs shaking and trembling both from exhaustion and from the damage she had absorbed already. Park staggered over to the side of the bed and flopped backwards to deposit Paulette onto the mattress with a Samoan Drop.

Panting heavily, Yoona crawled into bed and laid across Severe’s body, attempting to pin her. “Start counting, Merle,” she demanded.

“Actually, my name is Algernon though most call me --”

“Fuck you, Merle! Now put away your Pokemon and start counting!”

Carpenter discretely put away his phone before reminding Yoona of the rules, “Pins aren’t a legal means of victory for this match. Submissions only, I’m afraid. And my name is --”

“Yeah, yeah, understood,” interrupted Yoona. “I have to make her tap, and your name is Merle. Got it.”

The Korean wrestler rolled her opponent into a seated position, then sat between her outstretched legs and applied a front body scissor while trapping both of the French woman’s arms in a double underhook. Yoona leaned back as far as she could to crank the seated Butterfly Lock and apply vicious strain to Severe’s hamstrings, gluteals, spine, and shoulders.

Paulette shrieked to life as the tension built in her muscles and joints. “UNHAND ME, YOU WHORE!” she bellowed.

“Hey! You said were going to promote me from ‘whore’ to your personal pet! No backsies!” Park taunted as she tightened the body scissor and pulled harder on the double underhook, earning another high pitched squeal from the French woman.

“NNNNNRRRGGGHH I WILL BREAK YOU!” Paulette screamed. “I WILL BREAK YOU AND YOU WILL WATCH AS I BREAK YOUR HARLOT OF A LOVER TOO!”

Yoona laughed and cranked the hold tighter. “You’re not really Cam’s type. She’s not into the whole BDSM thing, believe me I've tried. Now if you had a schoolgirl costume…”

“AAARRGGGG!!! FILTHY VERMIN!”

“See, Cam?! I told you your fetish was perverted! Even Frenchie thinks it's filthy! Merle agrees with me too!”

Al threw up his hands in exasperation. “My name is --”

<<STOP JUDGING ME, MERLE!>> Camille shouted over the speakers. <<DO YOUR JOB AND ASK IF SHE SUBMITS!>>

Carpenter gave up on trying to correct his name, and checked on Paulette to see if she wanted to give up. While he wasn’t fluent in French, Al still understood with one hundred percent certainty that the string of curses meant ‘No.’

Yoona gave another tug on the Butterfly Lock and sighed, “Well, I tried, Cam. Looks like I'm gonna have to fuck her. You cool with that?”

<<No, not at all. But don’t mind me. You do what you need to and I'll get over it, probably by getting really, really drunk,>> came Camille’s reply over the speakers.

Park finally released the Butterfly Lock and rolled her opponent onto her back. Next she removed the French woman’s white satin panties and sat down between Paulette’s legs and leaned back onto her elbows. Then flexing her legs at the knees and hips, Yoona placed the soles of her bare feet on Paulette’s inner calves.

In an impressive display of strength and flexibility, the Korean wrestler unfurled her legs outwards into a center split with a single explosive motion, despite her injured left calf. An ear-piercing shriek of agony erupted from Paulette as the angle between her legs was suddenly and painfully forced from a V to an I.

“I love your haircut,” cooed Yoona, reaching out and patting her opponent’s pubic mound.

Paulette only responded with a string of shouted curses in French as she pulled her own hair in agony.

Park greatly enjoyed the view of the dominatrix’s naked genitals and neatly trimmed pubic hair. Coupled with her sense of power, Yoona found herself intensely aroused. Knowing that sex was not only allowed but encouraged during AHW matches, she slipped her right hand under her own panties even while she maintained the leg spread.

“How are you feeling, Frenchie?” asked Yoona, “All the other girls I've put in this hold tapped out before I even got wet. Think you can go the distance with me?”

“You...contemptible whore...!” spat Paulette through gritted teeth, voice hoarse from screaming.

“Mmmm, you make me so fucking hot when you talk dirty to me,” moaned the lusty Korean. Her eyes closed and she let out a shuddering gasp of pleasure as the tip of her middle finger drew circles around her clitoris.

Within a few minutes of being put in the leg spread, Paulette had gone through her vocabulary of swear words, both English and French, and she was reduced to whimpering after having exhausted her voice screaming. The cries coming from Yoona, however, were only increasing in volume and intensity. Her fingers worked at a frenzied pace, and she fell back onto her shoulders and arched her back as her body stiffened in preparation for the oncoming orgasm. Yoona’s toes stretched and pointed in ecstasy, spreading Paulette’s legs a couple more agonizing inches and eliciting a soft cry of pain.

With one final, high pitched shriek, Park climaxed. A sudden gush of fluid soaked the white cotton panties she was wearing under her camisole as all the tension in her body was released in a powerful spasm. Yoona flopped back to the mattress panting heavily, eyes closed and wearing an expression of post-coital bliss. The orgasm even made the pain in her injured leg and abdomen feel better. Meanwhile, Paulette rolled onto her side and curled into the fetal position massaging her badly strained groin and hamstrings.

“Did...did she...submit...Merle?” the Korean wrestler gasped after taking a few seconds to recover. “I...wasn’t...pay...paying...attention.”

Carpenter had been paying attention, probably more closely than he would be willing to admit, in fact. Nevertheless, he did a remarkable job keeping his voice flat and neutral when he answered, “No submission, this match is still live.”

“Oh I was so hoping you’d say that,” Yoona purred as she peeled off her sopping wet underwear.

Park clambered over to the dominatrix and jammed her panties into the French woman’s mouth. Next, Yoona lifted her opponent’s left leg by the ankle and then straddled Paulette’s hips. Still holding the ankle in her hands, she leaned all the way forward and used her body weight to force Paulette’s left leg to stretch until her foot reached past the top of her head.

Severe let out a muffled scream, though she still vigorously shook her head when Carpenter asked for her submission. Switching to a one handed grip on the dominatrix’s ankle, she clamped her other hand over Paulette’s mouth, preventing the dominatrix from removing the wet panties wedged in her mouth.

Hold secured, Park started rhythmically rocking her hips back and forth, causing their bare genitals to grind together.

Yoona broke into a leering smile. “Since you’ve watched all my matches, I’m sure you’ve seen my finisher already, Frenchie. What you might not know is there are a few versions of it. Version one, I hump you until we both squirt all over each other. You don’t get that version, I save that for people I like. Version two, I stretch your leg until your already strained hamstring gives out and you submit. You don’t get that one either. Even though you’re a colossal shithead, you’re still really fucking hot and I never pass up the chance to hump someone really fucking hot. So you get version three. Version three, you lucky dog, is all of the above. I stretch you to the limit while humping you and then the spasms of your own orgasm rip your leg apart.”

Park’s smile suddenly turned psychotic and deranged. “DOESN’T THAT SOUND FUN?!”

Eyes wide with panic, the French woman could only thrash and flail helplessly, and despite her best efforts, her body soon betrayed her and began grinding in synchronized rhythm with the Korean’s movements even as the tearing pain in her leg grew unbearable.

Faster and faster and faster Yoona went, until…

“OOOOHHHH MYYY GOOOOOOODDDDD,” she cried as she leaned forward again, climaxing for the second time in a spasm of ecstasy. When the last throes of her orgasm faded, Yoona promptly went back to grinding away once again.

“That was incredible. I don’t think I’ve ever come that much before. You’re about to come too, I can feel it. And then, POP, GOES YOUR HAMSTRING!” said Yoona.

Knowing that she could not hold back the tide much longer, Paulette mumbled something that was muffled by the panties in her mouth, then frantically tapped the bed over and over.

The referee immediately signaled to one of the camera drones, and a bell chimed over the speaker system. Park looked rather disappointed, but she promptly released her opponent and unceremoniously shoved her to the floor. The penthouse fell silent for a few seconds, save for the pained moaning of the dominatrix who had finally removed the gag from her mouth. Al looked at Yoona, Yoona looked at Al, and then both of them looked directly into one of the cameras.

“Cam! Do your fucking job!” Park shouted.

<<Oh! Uh, right! Your winner…>> Camille’s voice sounded rather hot and bothered as well over the Madhouse speaker system. <<...by sub...submission...Yoona Park!>>

Satisfied with hearing her name announced as the victor, even if it wasn’t by an actual FAWN official, Park crawled under the duvet and made herself comfortable. She would need to go to the hospital for her injuries and she had much to talk about with Camille, but for now she could rest. Yoona closed her eyes and indulged in a much needed post-coital nap.