Post by bigfan on Oct 1, 2016 4:37:45 GMT
With the FAWNatics still buzzing form the last match, the crowd bubbled to a boil when "Exotic” by Priyanka Chopra and Pitbull hit the speakers.
EXOTIC:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=sPhhZg9v9NU
AMARA SINGH:
The groove gets krushed when the curtains part, revealing a bevy of musclebound men, clad in gold loin clothes and sandals. Four of the men carried an ornate bed, where the Bollywood Bombshell reposed amid all the luxury. The assembled let loose with a cascade of abuse, seemingly every person making their revulsion known. As the ‘exotic’ woman on the curious conveyance was carried toward the ring, the FAWNatics continued to batter with boos the despicable creature carried by her consorts.
The catcalls and whistles gr as the parade moved toward the squared circle. The copper-skinned beauty writhed on her cushioned platform to the sound of the catchy beat. Below, the men’s gaze never left the ring, seemingly oblivious to the outstretched hands of the fans and the movements of the bronzed, raven-haired beauty above.
The Announcer sputtered to life, heralding the arrival of India’s greatest export.
"Ladies and gentlemen, tonight’s next match is scheduled for one fall with a twenty minute time limit. Introducing first, hailing from Cawnpore, India, she stands at five feet six inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and thirty four pounds… she is the Empress… AMARA SINGH!”
The spectacle slowed to a halt, having reached its destination. The men lowered the ornate bed so it was even with the apron and Singh gracefully slid from bedside to ringside. The tawny-skinned beauty faced the crowd, proceeding to dance seductively to the remainder of PeeCee and the feat’ing Pitbull, the grappler expertly slinking from a sparkling gold robe to reveal the curvy form beneath.
The striptease drew a round of rabid if momentary applause within the jeers, Singh dropping a pearly sneer upon Orlando’s great unwashed. She turned and slipped through the ropes, a dangerous attraction from the subcontinent with the ability to burst from the background given the chance.
Amara was clad in an ornately designed lacey gold bra and matching gold and red harem pants, jewels glittering from bracelets on her wrists, her feet bare. Her raven tresses fell down her back in wild waves, dark copper skin glowing under the lights. She did one last twirl for the crowd before taking center stage, ready to blast through the barrier standing between every Eurasian in FAWN and the well-defended titleholder.
Once Amara settled into her corner (where she patently ignored every bit of yammering and gibbering hurled her way), the plucking of a familiar set of Oriental strings drifted from the speakers and the sold-out crowd immediately exploded in a thunderous round of cacophonous boos and catcalls.
Totally unimpressed by Orlando‘s disdain, FAWN’s tiniest, shrillest and arguably most successful manager, Yuko Ogura, appears and the masses threatened to tear the roof off. Ogura looked over the FAWNatics, scorn stamped heavily on her delicate features. When they didn’t drop to their knees in total supplication, Yuko motioned for them to at least bow, so as to properly welcome the Invasion’s curvaceous powerhouse. On the screen overhead, a Rising Sun flag supplanted the live view on the FAWNtron, red sunbeams flowing out of the matching disc behind them. Ogura turned to greet the muscle of her organization, Matsumoto-san, the original and perhaps most dangerous Invader of all time appeared, the volume of the hatred only increasing.
Sayuki joined her leader and bowed to her boss. Yuko nodded in response and pointed toward the ring. As they made their way toward the squared circle, Ogura shrieked over the cantankerous crowd, demanding they show her weapon the proper deference.
YUKO OGURA:
SAYUKI MATSUMOTO:
As they headed down the aisle, the Announcer called, “And introducing her opponent, accompanied to the ring by Yuko Ogura, hailing from Kobe, Japan, she stands at five feet eight inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and thirty pounds. Representing the Asian Invasion she is… SAYUKI MATSUMOTO!”
Tonight the curvy Asian was garbed for battle in her familiar blood red bikini, the scant cloth leaving precious little of her hourglass figure to the imagination. Complementing the curves were white pads and boots, the pads bearing the red discs of her nation’s flag. Her dark hair was styled into two long pigtails.
Next to her, Ogura left many in the crowd buzzing at her cheeky ensemble. Above was a top that appeared white satin in front, black-n-white stripes from side to back. Below was the familiar gun metal gray with pinstripes but only in very daring proportions, the tiny ring of cloth held in place with a pair of jaunty suspenders. On her abbreviated but delectable stems were whalenet stockings leading to black business pumps and atop her long chestnut-colored locks sat a black fedora.
Reaching the ring steps, Sayuki led her boss up, Yuko directly behind, a protective hand on her charge’s right hip. She waited for Sayuki to open the top and middle ropes wide, allowing Ogura to step through. Matusumoto-san joined her with a swing of her hips as Yuko doffed her fedora and plucked a microphone from inside. The crowd seemed less than pleased with the prospect of a monologue from the leader of the Invaders and made Yuko aware of such. Ignoring the crowd entirely, Ogura honed in on Amara Singh.
“You call yourself an Empress, but the Invasion knows you for what you really are, a foolish pretender playing dress-up! Yet somehow your whining and complaining has convinced the idiots in FAWN’s front office that you’ve earned even a CHANCE to battle my Cyclone for her Eurasian Title. Well guess what, Ms. Singh…”
Yuko stepped to the side and gestured to Sayuki, who smirked at the Indian battler.
“Your chance waits directly beyond my weapon. So summon your courage and bring every bit of your fighting spirit or Matsumoto-san will show you the lovely devastation of her Falling Moons. Now avert your eyes and wait there quietly while I discuss your destruction with my Weapon!”
Amara offered no response, so Yuko tossed the microphone to the official and hurried to Sayuki for the aforementioned strategy session.
The bell sounded, not that such a minor annoyance was enough to keep Yuko from dispensing her usual sage advice. <Remember,> she told Matsumoto in their native tongue, <Reiko is the only champion we have right now, so we will protect her at all costs.> The diminutive dictator cast a hard look at Amara, who’d made no effort to leave her own corner. <It is not enough for you to simply beat that flashy piece of trash. Make an example of her! Remind her and all the other trash what happens to those that trifle with the might of my Invas->
“C’mon Yuko, get off the apron. The match has started!” Craig Long interrupted to a scathing look from Ogura.
Shifting her expression to a beaming smile, Yuko offered him a wave and tittered, <Step in front of a bus, stupid idiot.> She dropped to the floor without another word, though she did ‘smack’ the apron in support of her charge. Pushing out of the corner even before her manager reached the floor, Matsumoto stomped to the center of the ring and raised a hand to beckon Singh forward. Amara answered the challenge at once, strutting across the canvas on a sharp diagonal to go nose to nose with ‘SMECK!’ Singh raised her hands and drove ‘em into Sayuki’s rack in a huge shove that rocked the curvaceous Invader back on her heels.
“Just so there’s no confusion later.” Amara smirked. “I’m not afraid of you, I’m not afraid of the skinny one and I’m certainly not afraid of that nattering little waif buzzing around out on the--”
CRAAACK! Yuko always espoused the value of a stiff Knife-Edge Chop, but Matsumoto must’ve had other ideas because her opening salvo consisted of a single Bytch Slap that snapped the other brunette’s head hard to one side. “I am glad you are not afraid.” the former Eurasian Champ said in heavily accented English. “Now I can enjoy adding fear to your heart… bytch.”
Amara rubbed her stinging cheek, nodded as processing some new information, then pointed a shoulder at Sayuki and SCORCHED her tits with a vicious Knife-Edge Chop! “Were those the Suns or the Moons I just lit up?” she taunted over a loud chorus of ‘WOOOOO’s!’ “Guess it doesn’t matter, I’m gonna ruin them both tonigNNNNNGGGGHH!”
Rather than answer with another Slap or a Chop of her own, Sayuki drilled a Toe Kick into the other brunette’s belly, doubling her over. Presented with the nearly bare expanse of that bronzed back, Matsumoto brought her right arm back, over and down in a whipping overhand Forearm Smash that THWHAPPED across her opponent’s shoulders. Singh cringed, put a hand down to steady herself as both knees shivered, but managed to right herself without touching the mat. Happy not to waste any energy hoisting her rival off the canvas, Sayuki drilled her with a straight Forearm Smash across the tits and followed that by grabbing her under the arms. A big step back and a flick of Matsumoto’s hips was enough to send Amara flying through the air like a Lightweight and never mind the fact that she had almost ten pounds on her adversary. THWHAM! The Beal Toss deposited her three quarters of the way across the ring and Singh’s own rolling got her close enough to the opposite corner to grab hold of the middle rope.
BEAL TOSS @ 00:40
www.youtube.com/watch?v=OaB3UwqUo3E
More embarrassed than hurt (though her back was certainly not happy with that landing) Amara clambered to verticality and turned to face the other woman just in time to watch Matsumoto leave her feet in a running leap. Dodging wasn’t an option so Singh braced herself and started to exhale a heartbeat before Sayuki’s Avalanche Splash crushed her chest against her sternum with a resounding THWHAP!
<YES!> Yuko pounded a tiny fist against the mat and followed with an enthusiastic round of applause. <Crush her, Sayuki! HUMBLE her!>
Matsumoto didn’t need to be told twice, she’d already helped herself to Amara’s right wrist and popped her out of the buckles with a second Irish Whip. Too short of breath to do anything other than go along for the ride, Amara trundled across the mat, swung around at precisely the right moment and BWUUUNGED against the roughly-padded turnbuckles. Arms slopped over the top rope to keep from dropping onto her butt, Singh forced herself to raise her head when she heard the clatter of boots on canvas bearing down on her with all the clatter of a runaway freight tra--
“OOOOOFFFFFFHHH!” Sayuki’s second Splash was met with a stern rebuke in the form of a Mule Kick that THWHUMPED against her fulsome décolletage. Temporarily repelled but hardly beaten, Matsumoto shook off her surprise, rounded back on the Bollywood Bombshell and charged her once again, this time with her right arm craned back for a huge Lariat. Lariat or Splash, it met the same fate as her previous effort, Sayuki bounced off Amara’s feet with a huff of breathless anger.
<DON’T JUST CHARGE!’> Ogura snarled at the top of her lungs. <GET IN THERE, SMASH HER DEFENSES AND THEN SMASH HER!>
Too angry to give her manager’s words much credence at the moment, Matsumoto caught her wind and abruptly exploded forward twice as fast as her earlier-- BWUUUUNG! Amara twisted aside, dropped low and twined her legs between Sayuki’s to send her tumbling into the second turnbuckle face-first. Scrambling to verticality the instant she’d escaped this latest blunt force trauma, Singh snatched a double handful of the Japanese beauty’s hair and reefed her head back at a painful angle. “I want that title, peasant.” she cooed. “And I’ll destroy anyone who tries to keep it off my waist.”
Any doubt about the seriousness of Singh’s claim was put to rest when she bwung-bwung-bwung-bwung-BWUNGED the Invader’s face off the buckle no less than half a dozen times. Unleashing a full dozen would’ve meant reaching ‘FOUR!’ on Long’s count and Amara didn’t want to deal with the zebra’s meddling this early in the match. So rather than carry on she raised her hands to indicate a clean break, then grabbed Matsumoto’s arms and quickly slung them over the middle rope. Far more confident with Sayuki at least temporarily slowed, the Exotic Empress wheeled around on one foot and strutted across the squared circle. Singh’s innate haughtiness earned a round of boos from the FAWNatics, but Amara focused her attention on Yuko, who was still demanding that the ref free her wrestler from the clearly illegal predicament.
Amara snapped her fingers. “Eyes on me, peasant.” Yuko met her gaze, a look of incredulous disgust stamped upon her delicate features. “Tell Ohno her title is mine.”
Yuko responded immediately, there was no way she couldn’t respond, yet her words went unnoticed because Singh had already whipped around and raced back to the penitent Invader. Spinning on one heel at the last possible second, Amara hopped up and thrust her hips back to THWHUMP her glutes between Matsumoto’s shoulders! Sayuki ‘OOOOFFFFFFHHH!’ed loudly, her eyes almost comically wide as Singh’s Tiger Smash crushed the air from her sturdy frame.
“You may be a nightmare to all of these gutless Americans.” Singh told the other brunette as she grabbed a handful of hair. “But you share the ring with a goddess tonight, my little invader. It’s time you learned what I do to mortals who dare test my borders.” Pulling Matsumoto’s head away from the middle buckle without unthreading her arms, Amara forced Sayuki’s chin into her cleavage, then forced her forward so that the back of her head was wedged against the underside of the middle buckle.
Craig Long didn’t like where this was going and told Singh as much. “That’s enough, Amara. Clear off so I can unhook her, ooooohhh jeeze, that’s…ouch!”
Top rope secured in both hands, the Indian battler climbed onto her opponent’s back, wedged her heels between Matsumoto’s shoulders and puuuuuuulllled up on the ropes while she puuuuuuussssshed down with her legs!
Finally, the copper-skinned grappler dismounted Matsumoto-san, walking away with an evil grin. Amara puckered as she passed by Ogura.
“Come on in, little girl,” Singh said, sitting on the middle rope and pushing up the top to let the businesswoman in. Instead Yuko scurried to the corner where Craig freed her Weapon.
Sayuki grasped at her neck, trying to work more than one kink free as Amara skulked closer. Yuko shrieked at the zebra to keep Singh back and Long turned, pushing out his palms to do just that.
With precious seconds passing and with no attempt by Sayuki to leave her safe haven, Amara shoved Long aside and grabbed Matsumoto by a shoulder, spinning her foe to face off. A seemingly startled Sayuki spat a mouthful of water in the face of the Empress, momentarily blinding Singh.
On the sidelines, Yuko dropped a bottle to the floor and kicked it under the apron. A confused Craig chastised Matsumoto, but didn’t stop her when the Invader sent a Toe Kick deep into Amara’s golden-brown tummy.
Singh grunted as she doubled at the waist, dark eyes wide. With her foe bent over, Sayuki grabbed a handful of Amara’s gear at shoulder and waist and bum-rushed the Indian to the Invasion corner. At the last second, she launched Singh between the buckles, Amara’s right shoulder RAMMING into the steel post.
Singh yelped in pain, grasping at her throbbing joint. With Craig scolding Sayuki, the Japanese grappler defended herself vigorously and vocally, getting into it with Long in her mother tongue. With the argument flaring, from the outside, little Yuko reached toward Sayuki’s foe and wrapped her laced fingers around the back of Amara’s neck.
Falling backward, she dragged Singh’s throat down across the middle cable, choking the life out of the flailing beauty. As the crowd leveled their ire at the salty, 98-pound advocate, she continued to force Singh’s windpipe across the rubber-coated steel strand, Amara’s face turning rosier by the second. Finally, sensing Matsumoto couldn’t keep the official occupied any longer, Yuko released and stepped away, chatting up a denizen of the front row, asking if Orlando was always this warm this time of year.
Craig found a gasping, gagging Amara on hands and knees, crawling away from the corner and, unfortunately for the Empress, directly toward the approaching Sayuki. Matsumoto forced Singh up with a handful of ebony locks and drew her halfway down the length of the ring. Transferring her grip to a wrist, Matsumoto-san Irish Whipped the Indian beauty to the far ropes, following behind to the middle and setting up shop.
As a still choking Amara rebounded, Singh was unable to counter when the Invader dipped, caught Amara around her hips, lifted, pivoted and then fell to her backside, BUSTING THE HELL OUT OF AMARA’S SPINE.
SPINEBUSTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=A68HNsypVGY
With Singh splayed between her outstretched legs, Sayuki leaned forward to press her palms atop Amara’s golden-brown belly.
Craig slid beside and slapped the mat for…
ONE…
TWO…
and an electric shock seemed to course through the body of the Empress, a part of that spasm lifting a shoulder off the canvas to spare Amara the loss.
Ogura was already squealing instructions at her Invader and Sayuki responded by moving to a hovering straddle of the waylaid Indian. Matsumoto sank her claws into Amara’s bosom, driving in a dual set of nails into the tender tissue. With Long already on the mat, he’s quick to spank canvas for…
ONE…
and…TWO…
but again a wincing, whimpering Singh shoved a shoulder up.
The impetus convinced Matsumoto to rise and viciously ‘bring’ Singh with her, forcing the Empress up by her ravaged breasts. As Amara howled, Yuko nodded in appreciation.
“This is what you get if you come after our gold,” Ogura informed.
With both women vertical, Sayuki used the claws to draw Amara tight then released her grips only to wrap her arms around the waist of the battered Indian. Cinching tighter, she drew Singh off the canvas, Amara’s toes stretching to find the deck but unable. She shook her head wildly in a hopeless plea, ebony locks swooshing from side to side, until Sayuki sank to one knee and SPLIT Amara’s wickets, NAILING the Empress with an Inverted Atomic Drop.
Amara hopped off the posted knee like she’s shot out of a jack-in-the-box, hands deep between her thighs.
The less charitable in the crowd had a good chuckle at the mask of pain on Singh’s features, Amara frozen in a pigeon-toed stance after returning to the canvas. Stuck in place, Amara could do little as the glistening, curvy Invader sidled behind her and snaked her arms under and around those of Singh, locking her hands behind Amara’s neck in a Full Nelson.
But simple control wasn’t nearly enough for Matsumoto. Instead, she powered Amara up and off the canvas. Pivoting as she launched her foe. Sayuki put every ounce of energy behind the throw, just PLANTING Singh into to the deck and nearly through with a Full Nelson Slam.
FULL NELSON SLAM:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=8i8w1lKYpTg
Amara spread into a wide, motionless starfish after impact. Sayuki moved alongside and placed two flattened palms atop her foe, one on the golden-brown, gulping tummy of Singh, the other on her foe’s chest.
“Count,” Ogura shrieked, determined to squeeze a three count out of Long.
He hits the canvas for…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOO!.
Amara inched a shoulder off the deck and slopped to her side, the Empress perhaps broken but not beaten. Ogura pulled at her dark locks in disbelief. She screamed at Craig who could only shrug and hold up two fingers in reply.
Amara crawled out from beneath Matsumoto and tried to slink away, Singh looking anything but an Empress at the moment, her garb disheveled, body sweat-soaked, head drooping. A risen Sayuki caught her quickly from behind, wrapping a palm around an ankle. She pulled Singh back toward center stage for more of the Invader’s show. But Amara spun to her back and pistoned a kick into Matsumoto’s right knee that sent the Japanese grappler genuflecting on the joint.
“The hour is late,” Yuko shouted from ringside, “time for the Suns to set.”
Considering the distaste for Sayuki’s foe, the FAWNatics seemed less than upset at the prospect and they chant “SET…SET…SET!”
Putting aside a little creakiness in the knee, Matsumoto followed a retreating, butt-scooting Singh to a corner. But another flash kick to the Invader’s opposite knee put Sayuki down again. This time Amara added another boot, this one to Matsumoto’s abundant chest. Singh knocked the startled gatekeeper to her back, Yuko growing apoplectic at the sight of her Weapon losing her long and hard-won advantage.
“That’s right, peasant.” Amara huffed as her opponent crashed to the deck. “Worship at my feet.” In a perfect world Matsumoto would’ve done as the Empress bade without further prompting, alas the vast number of idiots in the building meant this world was anything but perfect and so Singh grabbed hold of the top rope and boosted herself onto the second strand. A small but loyal contingent of Amara supporters sprang to their feet in anticipation of the Bollywood Bash, but the brunette knew it wasn’t time to premiere that particular production. And so she climbed all the way to the top floor, a vantage point that offered her an excellent view of the slow rising Invader.
Unable to help herself, Amara ran both hands through her hair and teased the crowd with a little hip waggle, if only to make sure all eyes were on her when she leapt out into the void and ‘smecked’ those dangerous legs around Sayuki’s hea--THAWHAM! Matsumoto caught the airborne exotique in a loose Waistlock and drilled her to the canvas with an impromptu Powerbomb that had Yuko squealing with delight.
That resounding counter left Singh folded firmly in half, her shoulders flat against the mat while her ankles were somewhere north of her ears. No wonder Ogura hollered for her charge to go for the cover, but Sayuki must’ve had something to prove because she dipped her knees and boosted her burden back into the air without even waiting for Craig to swoop into position. Hefting Amara back into the Powerbomb stall like she was nothing more than an extremely elegant bag of leaves, Matsumoto turned in a slow circle to make sure everyone could see the only true Empress at work. Statement made, she pushed onto her toes and hurled Singh forward and down, the first ever Eurasian Champ dropping to her tush to TWHUMP Amara against the thinly-sheathed plywood. Sayuki held on following the Sit-Out Powerbomb, going so far as to hook her calves over Singh’s biceps and lean snug against her upturned haunches while the ref and fans counted off…
DOUBLE POWERBOMB:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=4BDPcLpEtMI
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
Amara worked an arm out from under and shot it into the air to buy herself at least another three seconds in the ring. <FINISH HER!> Yuko’s earlier optimism had vanished, replaced by a bright-eyed sadism the instant Singh crawled away from the Powerbomb. <EVERY SECOND SHE STANDS AGAINST US IS A MOCKERY! FINISH THIS PRETENDER! BLOT HER OUT ONCE AND FOR ALL!>
Her irritation split between Amara and Yuko, the curvaceous Invader glared at the former to see if she had any bright ideas on just how to get the job done. Yuko did. Of COURSE she did. She simply pointed to the top turnbuckle and spoke a single word. <Crush.> Sayuri had always been the aerial offensive when it came to the Invasion, but Sayuki wasn’t about to endure any more chiding from her manager so rather than argue with the admittedly questionable logic, she scraped Amara off the mat, scooped her onto one shoulder and planted back at square one with an emphatic Body Slam.
With Amara groaning and tapping one heel against the canvas, Matsumoto rounded on one heel and reached the corner in a few long strides. Dipping through the ropes, she climbed to the top rope and earned an ‘oooooohhhhh’ from those assembled when she stood call. Finally deigning to smirk as her shadow fell across the Empress’s tummy, Yuko’s Powerhouse crouched down and sprang out into nothing, Sayuki busting out the iconic mid-air toe touch that always preceded full extension on Frog Spla--
”HHHHNNNNNNGGGGHHHHH!” Mastumoto groaned and Ogura wailed right along with her because Amara pulled her knees to her chest at the last possible second.
Far from unscathed with the Invader’s weight landing squarely across her knees, Singh did a little groaning of her own when she shoved the encroaching brunette away and clambered to her feet. Looking far more serious now that she’d experienced the sort of power Matsumoto brought to the battle, Amara went straight on the attack with a flurry of pitiless stomps aimed directly for her foe’s chest and belly. Sayuki ‘uuunnnngghhed’ and did her best to cover up, unfortunately Singh was far more tenacious than the Japanese battler realized and she kept right on kickin’ until Matsumoto rolled onto her aching belly. Even then the reprieve was a short one, as Amara immediately STOMPED on the small of her prey’s back and grabbed a double handful of hair.
“You should tell this big bytch to quit before she gets hurt.” Singh snapped to Ogura in the midst of hoisting Matsumoto to verticality. Yuko responded with the perfectly manicured nail on her middle finger, thus forcing Amara to switch over to Wristlock. This proved a more than adequate tether for the Shoulderblock that sent Matsumoto staggering backward and the wicked little yank that reeled her into the Kneelift across her tummy. Smirking as the bronzed meat of her right thigh drove the air from Sayuki’s lungs in a hot little ‘ooffhh’ Amara repeated the shoulder n’ spike tactic a half a dozen more times before she felt the Invader’s knees were sufficiently squishy.
<MUSTER YOUR RESERVES, SAYUKI!> Yuko shouted to her warrior even as Singh’s shots drove Matsumoto’s butt back a little farther each time. <RISE UP AND SHOW THIS INSECT THE TRUE GLORIOUS MIGHT OF MY INVAS->
The manager’s last words trailed off in exasperation and disgust once Amara stepped back and hurled her brunette to the far side of the squared circle. Sayuki bounced hard but didn’t stumble out, not that that was exactly a blessing when the Exotic Empress rushed in and damned near put her left shoulder through Matsumoto’s tummy with a cornered Spear. Somersaulting away before she was entirely certain the other woman was upright, Amara sprang to her feet and noted that Sayuki was still on hers. Not in the least bit out of countenance, Singh charged, hopped onto the second rope just beside her foe’s right hip and THWHACKED a brutal Enzugiri off the side of her skull.
CORNER ENZUGIRI:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=qMkjrcz1oHc
That finally undid Matsumoto’s legs and she dribbled down the buckles to land on her butt with a quiet ‘thump’. Halfway to laying claims to the other brunette’s ankles, Amara discarded the notion and turned to Sayuki with the idea of giving her something a bit more… memorable. One boot resting comfortably on Matsumoto’s chest, Singh leaned in and cooed, “So you think you’re strong, a real queen between these ropes? It’s time to show you how real royalty deals with potential usurpers to her throne, peasant.
Winded and achy since the moment her Splash came up empty, Sayuki didn’t quite follow her opponent’s patter until Amara swung around and grabbed the top rope for extra leverage. “Nuh…NO!” Sayuki demanded in perfectly adequate English a heartbeat before the Indian import’s hindquarters pressed in snug against her face!
“Oh yes, yes, yesssssssssss!” Amara cooed over the muffled sounds of Matsumoto’s squealing and the increasingly loud cheers from the FAWNatics. “Remember how this FEELS, peasant! Remember every moment of the shame and the pain so you can recount it to that coward, Ohno! I want her to know exactly what she’s in for before I claim the Eurasian Championship!” The Bollywood Bombshell would’ve continued in this butt-buffing vein for hours on end if Craig Long hadn’t walked over and cleared his throat in that particularly obnoxious way known only to wrestling referees.
Though sorely tempted to milk the count as much as possible, Amara abandoned the Harem Shake without complaint so she could draaaaaaaaaaaaaag her burden out to the center of the ring. Using that same ankle control to roll Matsumoto over onto her belly, Singh planted a foot on either side of Sayuki’s waist and crouched down until she was seated in the hollow of her lower back. Teeth bared in a wicked smile, Amara leaned forward and clamped down on Sayuki’s biceps so she could hoist her up and cinch the Camel Clutch in deep.
Posting Matsumoto’s left arm over bended knee then doing likewise with the opposite limb, the Indian grappler moved her cupped hands under the Invader’s chin. Pulling back on her laced fingers and wrenching both Sayuki’s neck and back, Amara started working the powerhouse of AI like a part-time job.
Sayuki’s muffled complaints turned to mewls of pain, a worried Yuko looking on, screaming at her Weapon to break free. But the busty Asian, through futile attempts to shift her captured frame, was unable to even threaten an escape.
The copper-skinned Singh set her dark eyes on a frantic Yuko, the tiny businesswoman slapping the mat in frustration.
“Is she ready?” Amara grunted between wicked tugs that started to send Sayuki’s gaze toward the rafters. “Is Reiko ready to give up the belt?”
Ogura shrieked in frustration, yanking at her dark locks.
“Because,” Amara continued, “you’re not stopping MY invasion.”
With the insult and with a sweat-soaked Matsumoto becoming slacker by the second, Yuko could take no more. She hopped to the top of the apron, immediately drawing the interest of Mr. Long. The man met the manager at the ropes, demanding Yuko retreat to the floor below.
Ogura let Long know in no uncertain terms, he cannot tell a CEO what to do. She pivoted to knock the taste out of his mouth with a slap. But as the palm was about to strike home and likely get Matsumoto-san disqualified, another palm interceded. And it’s not the official’s.
Having left Sayuki on her Suns, Matsumoto reaching to massage her lower backbone, Amara blocked the blast, her hand tightening around Yuko’s right wrist.
Singh waggled her opposite index finger.
“You shouldn’t interrupt unless you REALLY want in.”
The Empress from the Subcontinent turned and drew Yuko’s arm over her right shoulder then leaned forward, flipping the tiny General of the Invasion into the squared circle, Ogura landing flush on her tailbone.
Yuko’s eyes flash wide as her diminutive hands shot to her backside. She howled in pain, bouncing on her tiny bum as the crowd roared with delight. A beaming Amara snatched a handful of Ogura’s ebony locks and dragged the manager on hands and knees to her Weapon.
Rising, Sayuki got a boot THUMPED into the base of her spine and was quickly flattened to the canvas by the Indian beauty. With Sayuki subdued, Amara yanked a yipping Yuko to her feet and in one swift motion scooped the featherweight off her feet and onto a shoulder then dropped her like a sack of sushi atop her Weapon, sandwiching the busty Invader beneath, both Japanese women grunting as their bodies slapped together with a meaty ‘THWACK’.
Singh stood in a straddle over the stacked Invaders and when she started to lower into a crouch, her hands clasped and moving forward, the crowd murmured with excitement. Craig seemed unconcerned with the chattering Yuko no longer in his ear, ignoring the irregularity. Amara dipped her ass into Yuko’s spinal column, pressing her derriere down hard to pin both women to the deck beneath.
Reestablishing her hands under Sayuki’s chin, this time Amara not only pulled back on Matsumoto, exposing the cleavage created by the Suns for all to see, but also double-decking her Clutch in style, torturing both Matusmoto and Ogura alike.
Soon Matsumoto’s desperate grunts were joined by a yelping Yuko, both Invaders arching in anguish. The ref dropped in front of Sayuki’s pain-etched features and asked if she wanted to surrender, clearly disregarding the oddity before him.
Ogura demanded her release. However, the screams quickly turned to desperate pleas when Long ignored her, her poor relationship with the refereeing profession coming back to bite little Yuko.
Craig stayed nose to nose with a grunting Sayuki, her body being turned into a worrisome ‘U’ shape with Ogura being treated to the same, layered above her. Matsumoto unconvincingly shook her head as best she can. But from above, Yuko wailed loud and clear.
“SHE GIVES! SHE GIVES!”
Though not from Sayuki, Long recognized the cries of Matsumoto’s duly contracted agent and hops to his feet, calling for the bell.
The Ring Announcer got in a brief huddle with Long next to the ropes while Amara continued to torture both Matsumoto and the bawling Yuko. The Announcer broke free and raised the microphone.
“With Yuko Ogura throwing in the towel for Sayuki Matsumoto, we have a winner…by submission…AMARA SINGH!”
Though no favorite of the fans, the victorious result for Singh was roundly approved by the FAWNatics, the assembled continuing to revel in the sight of the amazing ‘Double Clutch’.
And Amara refused to release the Invaders, apparently determined to snap the columns of both women as she leeeeans back further, moving toward a bridge when there’s a commotion coming down the aisle.
Sayuri Anzu, Matsumoto’s long-time partner led the cavalry with Seah Sin and the Eurasian titleholder Reiko Ohno pulling up the rear, golden belt strapped in place around her waist.
Finally seeing the trio as they hit ringside and slid into the squared from three different sides, Amara gave up her Clutch and rises, sweat poring over her copper-colored skin. She stared down all three women before charging the champ, laying into Reiko with a series of right crosses that sent Ohno into retreat before a final big swing decked the belt wearer.
However, as Singh got in her licks on Reiko, Sayuri and Seah nailed the Indian with stereo knee lifts to her kidneys. Amara moaned in pain, her body spasming forward as she flopped to her knees. Sayuri and Seah grabbed the dark locks of Amara to keep her in place and pound away with balled fists.
With Reiko back to her feet, Anzu and Sin dragged Amara up to force her into a face to face. Ohno laid into the exhausted Singh with a set of signature backhanded whistling chops that echoed through the arena.
With Singh reeling, her cleavage turning rosy, Reiko shouted to her fellow Invaders to get the Indian fully prepared. Sayuri and Seah swung kicks around from each side, nailing Amara in the gut simultaneously, doubling the victor over with a loud gasp.
A fuming Reiko pulled Singh forward, inserting the head of the lowered Amara between her legs, clamping down in a Standing Headscissors, and capturing Singh’s arms in a pair of Underhooks. The unhappy crowd knew what’s coming next, even if Ohno had been in Japan for over a year with the pilfered Eurasian gold.
For a moment, it appears Yuko’s samurai was going over in a Back Body Drop, but the upward flight is only to gain all the more momentum for her jumping Double Underhook Facebuster. And when Reiko’s knees hit the deck, faceplanting Amara into the thinly-sheathed plywood, Singh’s trip to unconsciousness was over courtesy the ‘Ohno She Did’n’ finisher.
A smiling, nodding Reiko patted her belt after releasing the hooked arms of Singh. She rolled the deadweight of the Empress onto her back, Amara spreading in a snoozing starfish, as Ohno stares down in satisfaction.
Sayuri and Seah had successfully revived Sayuki and Yuko, Ogura rising to her full 5 feet-nothing before stomping away at Amara’s carcass.
“You do not deserve to face my samurai. My champion. But you have learned what will happen when you do face her. She and we will finish you at FAWNamania and send you crawling back to your pathetic land.”
Ogura turned each of her four Invaders to face the lens, all hand in hand, Yuko straddling the body of the waylaid if victorious Amara. They raised their hands together and it’s a sight to see, one that has to concern anyone on the roster with half a brain.
EXOTIC:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=sPhhZg9v9NU
AMARA SINGH:
The groove gets krushed when the curtains part, revealing a bevy of musclebound men, clad in gold loin clothes and sandals. Four of the men carried an ornate bed, where the Bollywood Bombshell reposed amid all the luxury. The assembled let loose with a cascade of abuse, seemingly every person making their revulsion known. As the ‘exotic’ woman on the curious conveyance was carried toward the ring, the FAWNatics continued to batter with boos the despicable creature carried by her consorts.
The catcalls and whistles gr as the parade moved toward the squared circle. The copper-skinned beauty writhed on her cushioned platform to the sound of the catchy beat. Below, the men’s gaze never left the ring, seemingly oblivious to the outstretched hands of the fans and the movements of the bronzed, raven-haired beauty above.
The Announcer sputtered to life, heralding the arrival of India’s greatest export.
"Ladies and gentlemen, tonight’s next match is scheduled for one fall with a twenty minute time limit. Introducing first, hailing from Cawnpore, India, she stands at five feet six inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and thirty four pounds… she is the Empress… AMARA SINGH!”
The spectacle slowed to a halt, having reached its destination. The men lowered the ornate bed so it was even with the apron and Singh gracefully slid from bedside to ringside. The tawny-skinned beauty faced the crowd, proceeding to dance seductively to the remainder of PeeCee and the feat’ing Pitbull, the grappler expertly slinking from a sparkling gold robe to reveal the curvy form beneath.
The striptease drew a round of rabid if momentary applause within the jeers, Singh dropping a pearly sneer upon Orlando’s great unwashed. She turned and slipped through the ropes, a dangerous attraction from the subcontinent with the ability to burst from the background given the chance.
Amara was clad in an ornately designed lacey gold bra and matching gold and red harem pants, jewels glittering from bracelets on her wrists, her feet bare. Her raven tresses fell down her back in wild waves, dark copper skin glowing under the lights. She did one last twirl for the crowd before taking center stage, ready to blast through the barrier standing between every Eurasian in FAWN and the well-defended titleholder.
Once Amara settled into her corner (where she patently ignored every bit of yammering and gibbering hurled her way), the plucking of a familiar set of Oriental strings drifted from the speakers and the sold-out crowd immediately exploded in a thunderous round of cacophonous boos and catcalls.
Totally unimpressed by Orlando‘s disdain, FAWN’s tiniest, shrillest and arguably most successful manager, Yuko Ogura, appears and the masses threatened to tear the roof off. Ogura looked over the FAWNatics, scorn stamped heavily on her delicate features. When they didn’t drop to their knees in total supplication, Yuko motioned for them to at least bow, so as to properly welcome the Invasion’s curvaceous powerhouse. On the screen overhead, a Rising Sun flag supplanted the live view on the FAWNtron, red sunbeams flowing out of the matching disc behind them. Ogura turned to greet the muscle of her organization, Matsumoto-san, the original and perhaps most dangerous Invader of all time appeared, the volume of the hatred only increasing.
Sayuki joined her leader and bowed to her boss. Yuko nodded in response and pointed toward the ring. As they made their way toward the squared circle, Ogura shrieked over the cantankerous crowd, demanding they show her weapon the proper deference.
YUKO OGURA:
SAYUKI MATSUMOTO:
As they headed down the aisle, the Announcer called, “And introducing her opponent, accompanied to the ring by Yuko Ogura, hailing from Kobe, Japan, she stands at five feet eight inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and thirty pounds. Representing the Asian Invasion she is… SAYUKI MATSUMOTO!”
Tonight the curvy Asian was garbed for battle in her familiar blood red bikini, the scant cloth leaving precious little of her hourglass figure to the imagination. Complementing the curves were white pads and boots, the pads bearing the red discs of her nation’s flag. Her dark hair was styled into two long pigtails.
Next to her, Ogura left many in the crowd buzzing at her cheeky ensemble. Above was a top that appeared white satin in front, black-n-white stripes from side to back. Below was the familiar gun metal gray with pinstripes but only in very daring proportions, the tiny ring of cloth held in place with a pair of jaunty suspenders. On her abbreviated but delectable stems were whalenet stockings leading to black business pumps and atop her long chestnut-colored locks sat a black fedora.
Reaching the ring steps, Sayuki led her boss up, Yuko directly behind, a protective hand on her charge’s right hip. She waited for Sayuki to open the top and middle ropes wide, allowing Ogura to step through. Matusumoto-san joined her with a swing of her hips as Yuko doffed her fedora and plucked a microphone from inside. The crowd seemed less than pleased with the prospect of a monologue from the leader of the Invaders and made Yuko aware of such. Ignoring the crowd entirely, Ogura honed in on Amara Singh.
“You call yourself an Empress, but the Invasion knows you for what you really are, a foolish pretender playing dress-up! Yet somehow your whining and complaining has convinced the idiots in FAWN’s front office that you’ve earned even a CHANCE to battle my Cyclone for her Eurasian Title. Well guess what, Ms. Singh…”
Yuko stepped to the side and gestured to Sayuki, who smirked at the Indian battler.
“Your chance waits directly beyond my weapon. So summon your courage and bring every bit of your fighting spirit or Matsumoto-san will show you the lovely devastation of her Falling Moons. Now avert your eyes and wait there quietly while I discuss your destruction with my Weapon!”
Amara offered no response, so Yuko tossed the microphone to the official and hurried to Sayuki for the aforementioned strategy session.
The bell sounded, not that such a minor annoyance was enough to keep Yuko from dispensing her usual sage advice. <Remember,> she told Matsumoto in their native tongue, <Reiko is the only champion we have right now, so we will protect her at all costs.> The diminutive dictator cast a hard look at Amara, who’d made no effort to leave her own corner. <It is not enough for you to simply beat that flashy piece of trash. Make an example of her! Remind her and all the other trash what happens to those that trifle with the might of my Invas->
“C’mon Yuko, get off the apron. The match has started!” Craig Long interrupted to a scathing look from Ogura.
Shifting her expression to a beaming smile, Yuko offered him a wave and tittered, <Step in front of a bus, stupid idiot.> She dropped to the floor without another word, though she did ‘smack’ the apron in support of her charge. Pushing out of the corner even before her manager reached the floor, Matsumoto stomped to the center of the ring and raised a hand to beckon Singh forward. Amara answered the challenge at once, strutting across the canvas on a sharp diagonal to go nose to nose with ‘SMECK!’ Singh raised her hands and drove ‘em into Sayuki’s rack in a huge shove that rocked the curvaceous Invader back on her heels.
“Just so there’s no confusion later.” Amara smirked. “I’m not afraid of you, I’m not afraid of the skinny one and I’m certainly not afraid of that nattering little waif buzzing around out on the--”
CRAAACK! Yuko always espoused the value of a stiff Knife-Edge Chop, but Matsumoto must’ve had other ideas because her opening salvo consisted of a single Bytch Slap that snapped the other brunette’s head hard to one side. “I am glad you are not afraid.” the former Eurasian Champ said in heavily accented English. “Now I can enjoy adding fear to your heart… bytch.”
Amara rubbed her stinging cheek, nodded as processing some new information, then pointed a shoulder at Sayuki and SCORCHED her tits with a vicious Knife-Edge Chop! “Were those the Suns or the Moons I just lit up?” she taunted over a loud chorus of ‘WOOOOO’s!’ “Guess it doesn’t matter, I’m gonna ruin them both tonigNNNNNGGGGHH!”
Rather than answer with another Slap or a Chop of her own, Sayuki drilled a Toe Kick into the other brunette’s belly, doubling her over. Presented with the nearly bare expanse of that bronzed back, Matsumoto brought her right arm back, over and down in a whipping overhand Forearm Smash that THWHAPPED across her opponent’s shoulders. Singh cringed, put a hand down to steady herself as both knees shivered, but managed to right herself without touching the mat. Happy not to waste any energy hoisting her rival off the canvas, Sayuki drilled her with a straight Forearm Smash across the tits and followed that by grabbing her under the arms. A big step back and a flick of Matsumoto’s hips was enough to send Amara flying through the air like a Lightweight and never mind the fact that she had almost ten pounds on her adversary. THWHAM! The Beal Toss deposited her three quarters of the way across the ring and Singh’s own rolling got her close enough to the opposite corner to grab hold of the middle rope.
BEAL TOSS @ 00:40
www.youtube.com/watch?v=OaB3UwqUo3E
More embarrassed than hurt (though her back was certainly not happy with that landing) Amara clambered to verticality and turned to face the other woman just in time to watch Matsumoto leave her feet in a running leap. Dodging wasn’t an option so Singh braced herself and started to exhale a heartbeat before Sayuki’s Avalanche Splash crushed her chest against her sternum with a resounding THWHAP!
<YES!> Yuko pounded a tiny fist against the mat and followed with an enthusiastic round of applause. <Crush her, Sayuki! HUMBLE her!>
Matsumoto didn’t need to be told twice, she’d already helped herself to Amara’s right wrist and popped her out of the buckles with a second Irish Whip. Too short of breath to do anything other than go along for the ride, Amara trundled across the mat, swung around at precisely the right moment and BWUUUNGED against the roughly-padded turnbuckles. Arms slopped over the top rope to keep from dropping onto her butt, Singh forced herself to raise her head when she heard the clatter of boots on canvas bearing down on her with all the clatter of a runaway freight tra--
“OOOOOFFFFFFHHH!” Sayuki’s second Splash was met with a stern rebuke in the form of a Mule Kick that THWHUMPED against her fulsome décolletage. Temporarily repelled but hardly beaten, Matsumoto shook off her surprise, rounded back on the Bollywood Bombshell and charged her once again, this time with her right arm craned back for a huge Lariat. Lariat or Splash, it met the same fate as her previous effort, Sayuki bounced off Amara’s feet with a huff of breathless anger.
<DON’T JUST CHARGE!’> Ogura snarled at the top of her lungs. <GET IN THERE, SMASH HER DEFENSES AND THEN SMASH HER!>
Too angry to give her manager’s words much credence at the moment, Matsumoto caught her wind and abruptly exploded forward twice as fast as her earlier-- BWUUUUNG! Amara twisted aside, dropped low and twined her legs between Sayuki’s to send her tumbling into the second turnbuckle face-first. Scrambling to verticality the instant she’d escaped this latest blunt force trauma, Singh snatched a double handful of the Japanese beauty’s hair and reefed her head back at a painful angle. “I want that title, peasant.” she cooed. “And I’ll destroy anyone who tries to keep it off my waist.”
Any doubt about the seriousness of Singh’s claim was put to rest when she bwung-bwung-bwung-bwung-BWUNGED the Invader’s face off the buckle no less than half a dozen times. Unleashing a full dozen would’ve meant reaching ‘FOUR!’ on Long’s count and Amara didn’t want to deal with the zebra’s meddling this early in the match. So rather than carry on she raised her hands to indicate a clean break, then grabbed Matsumoto’s arms and quickly slung them over the middle rope. Far more confident with Sayuki at least temporarily slowed, the Exotic Empress wheeled around on one foot and strutted across the squared circle. Singh’s innate haughtiness earned a round of boos from the FAWNatics, but Amara focused her attention on Yuko, who was still demanding that the ref free her wrestler from the clearly illegal predicament.
Amara snapped her fingers. “Eyes on me, peasant.” Yuko met her gaze, a look of incredulous disgust stamped upon her delicate features. “Tell Ohno her title is mine.”
Yuko responded immediately, there was no way she couldn’t respond, yet her words went unnoticed because Singh had already whipped around and raced back to the penitent Invader. Spinning on one heel at the last possible second, Amara hopped up and thrust her hips back to THWHUMP her glutes between Matsumoto’s shoulders! Sayuki ‘OOOOFFFFFFHHH!’ed loudly, her eyes almost comically wide as Singh’s Tiger Smash crushed the air from her sturdy frame.
“You may be a nightmare to all of these gutless Americans.” Singh told the other brunette as she grabbed a handful of hair. “But you share the ring with a goddess tonight, my little invader. It’s time you learned what I do to mortals who dare test my borders.” Pulling Matsumoto’s head away from the middle buckle without unthreading her arms, Amara forced Sayuki’s chin into her cleavage, then forced her forward so that the back of her head was wedged against the underside of the middle buckle.
Craig Long didn’t like where this was going and told Singh as much. “That’s enough, Amara. Clear off so I can unhook her, ooooohhh jeeze, that’s…ouch!”
Top rope secured in both hands, the Indian battler climbed onto her opponent’s back, wedged her heels between Matsumoto’s shoulders and puuuuuuulllled up on the ropes while she puuuuuuussssshed down with her legs!
Finally, the copper-skinned grappler dismounted Matsumoto-san, walking away with an evil grin. Amara puckered as she passed by Ogura.
“Come on in, little girl,” Singh said, sitting on the middle rope and pushing up the top to let the businesswoman in. Instead Yuko scurried to the corner where Craig freed her Weapon.
Sayuki grasped at her neck, trying to work more than one kink free as Amara skulked closer. Yuko shrieked at the zebra to keep Singh back and Long turned, pushing out his palms to do just that.
With precious seconds passing and with no attempt by Sayuki to leave her safe haven, Amara shoved Long aside and grabbed Matsumoto by a shoulder, spinning her foe to face off. A seemingly startled Sayuki spat a mouthful of water in the face of the Empress, momentarily blinding Singh.
On the sidelines, Yuko dropped a bottle to the floor and kicked it under the apron. A confused Craig chastised Matsumoto, but didn’t stop her when the Invader sent a Toe Kick deep into Amara’s golden-brown tummy.
Singh grunted as she doubled at the waist, dark eyes wide. With her foe bent over, Sayuki grabbed a handful of Amara’s gear at shoulder and waist and bum-rushed the Indian to the Invasion corner. At the last second, she launched Singh between the buckles, Amara’s right shoulder RAMMING into the steel post.
Singh yelped in pain, grasping at her throbbing joint. With Craig scolding Sayuki, the Japanese grappler defended herself vigorously and vocally, getting into it with Long in her mother tongue. With the argument flaring, from the outside, little Yuko reached toward Sayuki’s foe and wrapped her laced fingers around the back of Amara’s neck.
Falling backward, she dragged Singh’s throat down across the middle cable, choking the life out of the flailing beauty. As the crowd leveled their ire at the salty, 98-pound advocate, she continued to force Singh’s windpipe across the rubber-coated steel strand, Amara’s face turning rosier by the second. Finally, sensing Matsumoto couldn’t keep the official occupied any longer, Yuko released and stepped away, chatting up a denizen of the front row, asking if Orlando was always this warm this time of year.
Craig found a gasping, gagging Amara on hands and knees, crawling away from the corner and, unfortunately for the Empress, directly toward the approaching Sayuki. Matsumoto forced Singh up with a handful of ebony locks and drew her halfway down the length of the ring. Transferring her grip to a wrist, Matsumoto-san Irish Whipped the Indian beauty to the far ropes, following behind to the middle and setting up shop.
As a still choking Amara rebounded, Singh was unable to counter when the Invader dipped, caught Amara around her hips, lifted, pivoted and then fell to her backside, BUSTING THE HELL OUT OF AMARA’S SPINE.
SPINEBUSTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=A68HNsypVGY
With Singh splayed between her outstretched legs, Sayuki leaned forward to press her palms atop Amara’s golden-brown belly.
Craig slid beside and slapped the mat for…
ONE…
TWO…
and an electric shock seemed to course through the body of the Empress, a part of that spasm lifting a shoulder off the canvas to spare Amara the loss.
Ogura was already squealing instructions at her Invader and Sayuki responded by moving to a hovering straddle of the waylaid Indian. Matsumoto sank her claws into Amara’s bosom, driving in a dual set of nails into the tender tissue. With Long already on the mat, he’s quick to spank canvas for…
ONE…
and…TWO…
but again a wincing, whimpering Singh shoved a shoulder up.
The impetus convinced Matsumoto to rise and viciously ‘bring’ Singh with her, forcing the Empress up by her ravaged breasts. As Amara howled, Yuko nodded in appreciation.
“This is what you get if you come after our gold,” Ogura informed.
With both women vertical, Sayuki used the claws to draw Amara tight then released her grips only to wrap her arms around the waist of the battered Indian. Cinching tighter, she drew Singh off the canvas, Amara’s toes stretching to find the deck but unable. She shook her head wildly in a hopeless plea, ebony locks swooshing from side to side, until Sayuki sank to one knee and SPLIT Amara’s wickets, NAILING the Empress with an Inverted Atomic Drop.
Amara hopped off the posted knee like she’s shot out of a jack-in-the-box, hands deep between her thighs.
The less charitable in the crowd had a good chuckle at the mask of pain on Singh’s features, Amara frozen in a pigeon-toed stance after returning to the canvas. Stuck in place, Amara could do little as the glistening, curvy Invader sidled behind her and snaked her arms under and around those of Singh, locking her hands behind Amara’s neck in a Full Nelson.
But simple control wasn’t nearly enough for Matsumoto. Instead, she powered Amara up and off the canvas. Pivoting as she launched her foe. Sayuki put every ounce of energy behind the throw, just PLANTING Singh into to the deck and nearly through with a Full Nelson Slam.
FULL NELSON SLAM:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=8i8w1lKYpTg
Amara spread into a wide, motionless starfish after impact. Sayuki moved alongside and placed two flattened palms atop her foe, one on the golden-brown, gulping tummy of Singh, the other on her foe’s chest.
“Count,” Ogura shrieked, determined to squeeze a three count out of Long.
He hits the canvas for…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOO!.
Amara inched a shoulder off the deck and slopped to her side, the Empress perhaps broken but not beaten. Ogura pulled at her dark locks in disbelief. She screamed at Craig who could only shrug and hold up two fingers in reply.
Amara crawled out from beneath Matsumoto and tried to slink away, Singh looking anything but an Empress at the moment, her garb disheveled, body sweat-soaked, head drooping. A risen Sayuki caught her quickly from behind, wrapping a palm around an ankle. She pulled Singh back toward center stage for more of the Invader’s show. But Amara spun to her back and pistoned a kick into Matsumoto’s right knee that sent the Japanese grappler genuflecting on the joint.
“The hour is late,” Yuko shouted from ringside, “time for the Suns to set.”
Considering the distaste for Sayuki’s foe, the FAWNatics seemed less than upset at the prospect and they chant “SET…SET…SET!”
Putting aside a little creakiness in the knee, Matsumoto followed a retreating, butt-scooting Singh to a corner. But another flash kick to the Invader’s opposite knee put Sayuki down again. This time Amara added another boot, this one to Matsumoto’s abundant chest. Singh knocked the startled gatekeeper to her back, Yuko growing apoplectic at the sight of her Weapon losing her long and hard-won advantage.
“That’s right, peasant.” Amara huffed as her opponent crashed to the deck. “Worship at my feet.” In a perfect world Matsumoto would’ve done as the Empress bade without further prompting, alas the vast number of idiots in the building meant this world was anything but perfect and so Singh grabbed hold of the top rope and boosted herself onto the second strand. A small but loyal contingent of Amara supporters sprang to their feet in anticipation of the Bollywood Bash, but the brunette knew it wasn’t time to premiere that particular production. And so she climbed all the way to the top floor, a vantage point that offered her an excellent view of the slow rising Invader.
Unable to help herself, Amara ran both hands through her hair and teased the crowd with a little hip waggle, if only to make sure all eyes were on her when she leapt out into the void and ‘smecked’ those dangerous legs around Sayuki’s hea--THAWHAM! Matsumoto caught the airborne exotique in a loose Waistlock and drilled her to the canvas with an impromptu Powerbomb that had Yuko squealing with delight.
That resounding counter left Singh folded firmly in half, her shoulders flat against the mat while her ankles were somewhere north of her ears. No wonder Ogura hollered for her charge to go for the cover, but Sayuki must’ve had something to prove because she dipped her knees and boosted her burden back into the air without even waiting for Craig to swoop into position. Hefting Amara back into the Powerbomb stall like she was nothing more than an extremely elegant bag of leaves, Matsumoto turned in a slow circle to make sure everyone could see the only true Empress at work. Statement made, she pushed onto her toes and hurled Singh forward and down, the first ever Eurasian Champ dropping to her tush to TWHUMP Amara against the thinly-sheathed plywood. Sayuki held on following the Sit-Out Powerbomb, going so far as to hook her calves over Singh’s biceps and lean snug against her upturned haunches while the ref and fans counted off…
DOUBLE POWERBOMB:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=4BDPcLpEtMI
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
Amara worked an arm out from under and shot it into the air to buy herself at least another three seconds in the ring. <FINISH HER!> Yuko’s earlier optimism had vanished, replaced by a bright-eyed sadism the instant Singh crawled away from the Powerbomb. <EVERY SECOND SHE STANDS AGAINST US IS A MOCKERY! FINISH THIS PRETENDER! BLOT HER OUT ONCE AND FOR ALL!>
Her irritation split between Amara and Yuko, the curvaceous Invader glared at the former to see if she had any bright ideas on just how to get the job done. Yuko did. Of COURSE she did. She simply pointed to the top turnbuckle and spoke a single word. <Crush.> Sayuri had always been the aerial offensive when it came to the Invasion, but Sayuki wasn’t about to endure any more chiding from her manager so rather than argue with the admittedly questionable logic, she scraped Amara off the mat, scooped her onto one shoulder and planted back at square one with an emphatic Body Slam.
With Amara groaning and tapping one heel against the canvas, Matsumoto rounded on one heel and reached the corner in a few long strides. Dipping through the ropes, she climbed to the top rope and earned an ‘oooooohhhhh’ from those assembled when she stood call. Finally deigning to smirk as her shadow fell across the Empress’s tummy, Yuko’s Powerhouse crouched down and sprang out into nothing, Sayuki busting out the iconic mid-air toe touch that always preceded full extension on Frog Spla--
”HHHHNNNNNNGGGGHHHHH!” Mastumoto groaned and Ogura wailed right along with her because Amara pulled her knees to her chest at the last possible second.
Far from unscathed with the Invader’s weight landing squarely across her knees, Singh did a little groaning of her own when she shoved the encroaching brunette away and clambered to her feet. Looking far more serious now that she’d experienced the sort of power Matsumoto brought to the battle, Amara went straight on the attack with a flurry of pitiless stomps aimed directly for her foe’s chest and belly. Sayuki ‘uuunnnngghhed’ and did her best to cover up, unfortunately Singh was far more tenacious than the Japanese battler realized and she kept right on kickin’ until Matsumoto rolled onto her aching belly. Even then the reprieve was a short one, as Amara immediately STOMPED on the small of her prey’s back and grabbed a double handful of hair.
“You should tell this big bytch to quit before she gets hurt.” Singh snapped to Ogura in the midst of hoisting Matsumoto to verticality. Yuko responded with the perfectly manicured nail on her middle finger, thus forcing Amara to switch over to Wristlock. This proved a more than adequate tether for the Shoulderblock that sent Matsumoto staggering backward and the wicked little yank that reeled her into the Kneelift across her tummy. Smirking as the bronzed meat of her right thigh drove the air from Sayuki’s lungs in a hot little ‘ooffhh’ Amara repeated the shoulder n’ spike tactic a half a dozen more times before she felt the Invader’s knees were sufficiently squishy.
<MUSTER YOUR RESERVES, SAYUKI!> Yuko shouted to her warrior even as Singh’s shots drove Matsumoto’s butt back a little farther each time. <RISE UP AND SHOW THIS INSECT THE TRUE GLORIOUS MIGHT OF MY INVAS->
The manager’s last words trailed off in exasperation and disgust once Amara stepped back and hurled her brunette to the far side of the squared circle. Sayuki bounced hard but didn’t stumble out, not that that was exactly a blessing when the Exotic Empress rushed in and damned near put her left shoulder through Matsumoto’s tummy with a cornered Spear. Somersaulting away before she was entirely certain the other woman was upright, Amara sprang to her feet and noted that Sayuki was still on hers. Not in the least bit out of countenance, Singh charged, hopped onto the second rope just beside her foe’s right hip and THWHACKED a brutal Enzugiri off the side of her skull.
CORNER ENZUGIRI:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=qMkjrcz1oHc
That finally undid Matsumoto’s legs and she dribbled down the buckles to land on her butt with a quiet ‘thump’. Halfway to laying claims to the other brunette’s ankles, Amara discarded the notion and turned to Sayuki with the idea of giving her something a bit more… memorable. One boot resting comfortably on Matsumoto’s chest, Singh leaned in and cooed, “So you think you’re strong, a real queen between these ropes? It’s time to show you how real royalty deals with potential usurpers to her throne, peasant.
Winded and achy since the moment her Splash came up empty, Sayuki didn’t quite follow her opponent’s patter until Amara swung around and grabbed the top rope for extra leverage. “Nuh…NO!” Sayuki demanded in perfectly adequate English a heartbeat before the Indian import’s hindquarters pressed in snug against her face!
“Oh yes, yes, yesssssssssss!” Amara cooed over the muffled sounds of Matsumoto’s squealing and the increasingly loud cheers from the FAWNatics. “Remember how this FEELS, peasant! Remember every moment of the shame and the pain so you can recount it to that coward, Ohno! I want her to know exactly what she’s in for before I claim the Eurasian Championship!” The Bollywood Bombshell would’ve continued in this butt-buffing vein for hours on end if Craig Long hadn’t walked over and cleared his throat in that particularly obnoxious way known only to wrestling referees.
Though sorely tempted to milk the count as much as possible, Amara abandoned the Harem Shake without complaint so she could draaaaaaaaaaaaaag her burden out to the center of the ring. Using that same ankle control to roll Matsumoto over onto her belly, Singh planted a foot on either side of Sayuki’s waist and crouched down until she was seated in the hollow of her lower back. Teeth bared in a wicked smile, Amara leaned forward and clamped down on Sayuki’s biceps so she could hoist her up and cinch the Camel Clutch in deep.
Posting Matsumoto’s left arm over bended knee then doing likewise with the opposite limb, the Indian grappler moved her cupped hands under the Invader’s chin. Pulling back on her laced fingers and wrenching both Sayuki’s neck and back, Amara started working the powerhouse of AI like a part-time job.
Sayuki’s muffled complaints turned to mewls of pain, a worried Yuko looking on, screaming at her Weapon to break free. But the busty Asian, through futile attempts to shift her captured frame, was unable to even threaten an escape.
The copper-skinned Singh set her dark eyes on a frantic Yuko, the tiny businesswoman slapping the mat in frustration.
“Is she ready?” Amara grunted between wicked tugs that started to send Sayuki’s gaze toward the rafters. “Is Reiko ready to give up the belt?”
Ogura shrieked in frustration, yanking at her dark locks.
“Because,” Amara continued, “you’re not stopping MY invasion.”
With the insult and with a sweat-soaked Matsumoto becoming slacker by the second, Yuko could take no more. She hopped to the top of the apron, immediately drawing the interest of Mr. Long. The man met the manager at the ropes, demanding Yuko retreat to the floor below.
Ogura let Long know in no uncertain terms, he cannot tell a CEO what to do. She pivoted to knock the taste out of his mouth with a slap. But as the palm was about to strike home and likely get Matsumoto-san disqualified, another palm interceded. And it’s not the official’s.
Having left Sayuki on her Suns, Matsumoto reaching to massage her lower backbone, Amara blocked the blast, her hand tightening around Yuko’s right wrist.
Singh waggled her opposite index finger.
“You shouldn’t interrupt unless you REALLY want in.”
The Empress from the Subcontinent turned and drew Yuko’s arm over her right shoulder then leaned forward, flipping the tiny General of the Invasion into the squared circle, Ogura landing flush on her tailbone.
Yuko’s eyes flash wide as her diminutive hands shot to her backside. She howled in pain, bouncing on her tiny bum as the crowd roared with delight. A beaming Amara snatched a handful of Ogura’s ebony locks and dragged the manager on hands and knees to her Weapon.
Rising, Sayuki got a boot THUMPED into the base of her spine and was quickly flattened to the canvas by the Indian beauty. With Sayuki subdued, Amara yanked a yipping Yuko to her feet and in one swift motion scooped the featherweight off her feet and onto a shoulder then dropped her like a sack of sushi atop her Weapon, sandwiching the busty Invader beneath, both Japanese women grunting as their bodies slapped together with a meaty ‘THWACK’.
Singh stood in a straddle over the stacked Invaders and when she started to lower into a crouch, her hands clasped and moving forward, the crowd murmured with excitement. Craig seemed unconcerned with the chattering Yuko no longer in his ear, ignoring the irregularity. Amara dipped her ass into Yuko’s spinal column, pressing her derriere down hard to pin both women to the deck beneath.
Reestablishing her hands under Sayuki’s chin, this time Amara not only pulled back on Matsumoto, exposing the cleavage created by the Suns for all to see, but also double-decking her Clutch in style, torturing both Matusmoto and Ogura alike.
Soon Matsumoto’s desperate grunts were joined by a yelping Yuko, both Invaders arching in anguish. The ref dropped in front of Sayuki’s pain-etched features and asked if she wanted to surrender, clearly disregarding the oddity before him.
Ogura demanded her release. However, the screams quickly turned to desperate pleas when Long ignored her, her poor relationship with the refereeing profession coming back to bite little Yuko.
Craig stayed nose to nose with a grunting Sayuki, her body being turned into a worrisome ‘U’ shape with Ogura being treated to the same, layered above her. Matsumoto unconvincingly shook her head as best she can. But from above, Yuko wailed loud and clear.
“SHE GIVES! SHE GIVES!”
Though not from Sayuki, Long recognized the cries of Matsumoto’s duly contracted agent and hops to his feet, calling for the bell.
The Ring Announcer got in a brief huddle with Long next to the ropes while Amara continued to torture both Matsumoto and the bawling Yuko. The Announcer broke free and raised the microphone.
“With Yuko Ogura throwing in the towel for Sayuki Matsumoto, we have a winner…by submission…AMARA SINGH!”
Though no favorite of the fans, the victorious result for Singh was roundly approved by the FAWNatics, the assembled continuing to revel in the sight of the amazing ‘Double Clutch’.
And Amara refused to release the Invaders, apparently determined to snap the columns of both women as she leeeeans back further, moving toward a bridge when there’s a commotion coming down the aisle.
Sayuri Anzu, Matsumoto’s long-time partner led the cavalry with Seah Sin and the Eurasian titleholder Reiko Ohno pulling up the rear, golden belt strapped in place around her waist.
Finally seeing the trio as they hit ringside and slid into the squared from three different sides, Amara gave up her Clutch and rises, sweat poring over her copper-colored skin. She stared down all three women before charging the champ, laying into Reiko with a series of right crosses that sent Ohno into retreat before a final big swing decked the belt wearer.
However, as Singh got in her licks on Reiko, Sayuri and Seah nailed the Indian with stereo knee lifts to her kidneys. Amara moaned in pain, her body spasming forward as she flopped to her knees. Sayuri and Seah grabbed the dark locks of Amara to keep her in place and pound away with balled fists.
With Reiko back to her feet, Anzu and Sin dragged Amara up to force her into a face to face. Ohno laid into the exhausted Singh with a set of signature backhanded whistling chops that echoed through the arena.
With Singh reeling, her cleavage turning rosy, Reiko shouted to her fellow Invaders to get the Indian fully prepared. Sayuri and Seah swung kicks around from each side, nailing Amara in the gut simultaneously, doubling the victor over with a loud gasp.
A fuming Reiko pulled Singh forward, inserting the head of the lowered Amara between her legs, clamping down in a Standing Headscissors, and capturing Singh’s arms in a pair of Underhooks. The unhappy crowd knew what’s coming next, even if Ohno had been in Japan for over a year with the pilfered Eurasian gold.
For a moment, it appears Yuko’s samurai was going over in a Back Body Drop, but the upward flight is only to gain all the more momentum for her jumping Double Underhook Facebuster. And when Reiko’s knees hit the deck, faceplanting Amara into the thinly-sheathed plywood, Singh’s trip to unconsciousness was over courtesy the ‘Ohno She Did’n’ finisher.
A smiling, nodding Reiko patted her belt after releasing the hooked arms of Singh. She rolled the deadweight of the Empress onto her back, Amara spreading in a snoozing starfish, as Ohno stares down in satisfaction.
Sayuri and Seah had successfully revived Sayuki and Yuko, Ogura rising to her full 5 feet-nothing before stomping away at Amara’s carcass.
“You do not deserve to face my samurai. My champion. But you have learned what will happen when you do face her. She and we will finish you at FAWNamania and send you crawling back to your pathetic land.”
Ogura turned each of her four Invaders to face the lens, all hand in hand, Yuko straddling the body of the waylaid if victorious Amara. They raised their hands together and it’s a sight to see, one that has to concern anyone on the roster with half a brain.