Post by bigfan on Dec 4, 2016 6:23:44 GMT
KELLI LOVE:
Backstage at the arena, Kelli Love is in constant motion. Partly, it's stretching and hyping herself for the match ahead of her. It's also partly because she's nervous. Her record in FAWN hasn't been stellar, in the way a record with nothing but losses can be described as, “not stellar.” Still, the busty blonde has faith in herself. Not as much as she'd like, but faith is there.
As Kelli bends down and clutches her calves to stretch, a familiar voice behind her sounds off. “You're gonna do great.”
TRIXIE “JINX” DECKER:
Trixie Decker, Kelli's friend, training buddy, and preferred person to run into rings to save others from bullies with, leans against the wall. “You need me to come down ringside to keep her honest?”
It's a tempting offer and Kelli really does, but she shakes her head. “You always offer, and it's sweet, but I've gotta go by myself. Even if I lose and she's going old school FAWN on me, hang back, okay?”
Trixie nods. “I won't have to worry about that. You're gonna plant her into the mat.”
Kelli snorts a little. “Stranger things have happened, I guess.”
The brunette pinches the pink-clad blonde on her side, getting Love to yelp. “None of that. You can do that. You can win.”
“Just not in FAWN,” Kelli says, still forcing a smile.
“Not in FAWN yet,” Trixie replies, giving her friend a hug. Just then, over the sound system, the announcer sounds off.
“Our next match is a standard contest. First, from Pahrump, Nevada, standing at five feet, five inches and one hundred and twenty-eight pounds…. KELLI LOVE!”
“PERFECT (EXCEEDER)” BY MASON (VS. PRINCESS SUPERSTAR)
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gdg8yniUbjk
Kelli pecks Trixie on the cheek. “Thanks for the pep talk!” She bolts through the curtains, arms raised, to the FAWNatics. Her self doubt is well hidden with her stage persona, blowing kisses and slapping hands with fans as she trots down the ramp. Sure, a lot of the attendees are more interested in seeing her rack bounce, barely contained in her pink bra, or her ass filling out her frilly pink panties, or her nice legs in her pink fishnets and heart-clasped garter belt. But, despite her losing streak, many fans have come to respect Kelli's willingness to be at her friends' sides when certain thugs step out of line… even when it would probably still be smarter to hang back.
A former cheerleader and gymnast, Kelli handsprings the last few feet to the ring, hops on the skirt, and flips over the top rope. The fans eat it up. She rushes up a corner, standing on the top turnbuckle, and blows kisses. The fans cheer her hard and the support strengthens her. Maybe she can do this.
KRISTY SANDERS
It hadn’t been much of a year for the Sanders clan in FAWN. Kylie losing her title belt last fall and apparently run out of the organization by Wendy Smith who herself had mostly disappeared. And as for Kristy, she’d been relegated to the house show circuit where she continued to plug along, at least until this PPV curtain jerker against a winless bimbo.
Still, it was a match on the main show and Kristy fidgets nervously behind the curtain as the house lights blink to inky blackness. The dark is replaced with twisting, twirling strobes, an inspired swirl of golden spotlights interspersed with leopard spots that fill the arena. A feline, feral growl roars over the speakers. Following quickly behind comes the opening strains of Velvet Revolver’s cover of ‘Psycho Killer’.
“PSYCHO KILLER” BY VELVER REVOLVER
www.youtube.com/watch?v=pCZFjZCPC0Y
The reaction is mixed, some of the crowd cheering with a mixture of catcalls thrown in. FAWN’s Black Sheep in leopard’s clothing appears, the volume increasing on both sides, the crowd torn. Sanders Part Deux accepts both in kind, simply happy to be back on a PPV.
“And her opponent. Hailing from Eden Prairie, Minnesota, standing 5 feet 6 inches, weighing in at 125 pounds, THE REAL DEAL, KRISTY SANDERS!”
Having returned to her blonde roots, the blonde hardbody focuses on the ring, ignoring the FAWNatics as if second nature. Sanders is clad in her familiar skin-tight leopard print one-piece, the material seemingly painted on. Below the ‘skirtish’ bum-hugging bottoms of the strapless onesy, is a flash of similarly spotted panties, and, not that many noticed, the ‘jungle cat’ concludes her attire with black pads and boots.
Keeping to the middle, burning holes in anyone who meets her gaze or rides her about being a FORMER champion, Kristy reaches the squared circle, heads for the steps and slides into the ring.
Kristy offers a double bicep pose to the nearest lens then nods in the direction of either gun, mouthing the words “LEGEND” and “KILLER”. She kisses each flexed arm. “and they can kill the odd hack of a bimbo given the opportunity.”
Kristy turns and shrugs toward Kelli.
“Nuff said.”
Sanders moves to her corner, looking Love up and down, seemingly far from impressed.
From across the ring, staring at Sanders's back, Kelli can't tell what was being said but she is positive it was an insult about her. Love isn't hateful by nature – there probably couldn't be a better person to receive her surname – but all her time around Trixie has rubbed an urge to resort straight to snide comments. Not often, but occasion. Watching tapes of Kristy's career with Trixie was also probably a bad idea, as the Jinx makes training equal parts planning and MST3K sessions. But Kelli remembers Sanders has had more than one belt around her waist and that's no fluke.
Also, she remembers Holly Hotbody. Kelli had never met her – she'd left FAWN long before she or Trixie showed up. She'd been a fan favorite for both her skill and, as a former exotic dancer, her sexiness. She'd gone toe-to-toe with some of FAWN's biggest names, amassing impressive wins. Then she faced Sanders six years ago. Kelli had seen the match. Kristy destroyed her in the ring. She'd had to be carried away. She was never seen in FAWN again. That was the end of her career here.
That's who you're facing, Kelli reminded herself. This is serious. You can't screw around.
The bell rings and the two women circle. Sanders stares holes through Love. The two women lock up at the shoulders and Kristy drives Kelli back to the ropes behind her, pulling back on Kelli's golden locks. Love yips as her head snaps back and Sanders hauls back and delivers a loud “CRACK” via a backhand across Kelli's breasts. The referee demands Kristy let Kelli off the rope and the veteran backs away, smirking as Kelli massages her meat shelf. The women circle again and Kelli lunges for a lock-up, only to be caught by Kristy. The vicious Minnesotan snags Love by the wrist and twists it behind her back. Kelli bites her lip as she grips her shoulder. She attempts to reverse the hold but each step is met with a counter, Kristy staying right behind her and cranking the arm up higher. Kelly notices one of Kristy's legs between her own. It's worth a shot, she tells herself, as she grabs at Kristy's calf.
Gritting her perfect pearlies as she reaches down to gather up Sanders’ leg, knowing such a move would increase the pain in her captured arm, Kelli yanks Kristy’s lower limb forward, tripping up the Black Sheep and sending her crashing to the canvas.
On the way down, Kristy releases her grip on the busty blonde and Love spins to add to her sudden advantage. Measuring Kristy’s chest, she drops an elbow, but Sanders rolls clear and the bony point of Love’s arm thumps into the thinly-sheathed plywood.
Kelli yelps in pain as she heads in the opposite direction of her opponent, holding her wounded wing close. Both women rise to their feet for a stare down, Kristy nodding.
“Maybe you’re not a complete lost cause,” Sanders says, “but you’re nowhere near good enough to deal with me.”
The blondes move in circles that grow closer until Kelli and Kristy meet in a collar-and-elbow tie-up. The difference in size is nearly negligible, Love with more chest, Sanders with more booty. The lower center of gravity provides the veteran the base to slowly but surely move Kelli to the buckles behind her. With Love’s back pressed to the corner, the official calls for a break and Kristy complies, raising her hands and backing away. Love is pleasantly surprised by Sanders following the rules, but a flash of nails ends the charade, Kristy scraping her fingertips across Kelli’s dark peepers. Love shrieks in pain, stumbling blindly out of the corner with Kristy in hot pursuit.
“Then again,” Sanders adds, snaking her arms under and around those of her foe, lacing her fingers behind Kelli’s neck in a full nelson. She swings the bimbo’s head wildly from side to side, scrambling her gray matter before releasing her grip and grabbing a wrist. She sends Kelli into a pirouette before pulling her in like a yo-yo and nearly decapitating her with a short-arm clothesline.
They told me I have nothing to gain by beating you,” Kristy informs. “As I see it, it all depends on how badly I beat you.” Sanders stomps the chest of the downed blonde, one, two, three times.
“And that’s going to be badly.”
Kristy takes off for the ropes in front of her and rebounds toward the aching Love. Sanders launches extending both legs, one aimed across Kelli’s throat, the other her chest. But this time, it’s Love who evacuates and the Real Deal comes up empty, landing on her tailbone, a shockwave moving up and down her spinal column.
A yipping Kristy massages her backside to the chuckles of the first row. Redfaced with embarrassment, Sanders scrambles to her feet and meets a vertical Kelli. Each blonde has a right arm drawn for a clothesline and each connects flush, the grapplers simultaneously dropping their respective rival hard against the mat.
The ref checks on both and, with each slow to rise, starts his count on both. Slowly, each blonde pushes her way up and Kelli goes back to the well, taking another swipe. Kristy ducks the effort and wraps her right arm around the throat and shoulder of Love. Pulling the busty beauty in close, Sanders launches Kelli high into the Orlando night and lays out, PLANTING Love with a Side Effect.
SIDE EFFECT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=JF8nmsIzxE4
Kelli hits with enough force to send her to a momentary headstand before she timbers to her side, the crowd silenced by the success of Kylie’s cousin. Kristy eschews the pin, instead taking the opportunity to stroll smugly around the writhing Love, one of Kelli’s hands glued to her lower spine as she winces in pain.
“Whoever told you facing me is a good idea,” Kristy enlightens, “you might want to consider them as an enemy instead of a friend.”
Kristy has, of course, heard this before - more than once. Not to say it isn't annoying, but mostly because someone so far beneath her would dare to be lippy. She makes a detour on her smugness tour and takes a handful of Kelli's golden hair, ripping her all the way up. Kristy slings Kelli towards the opposite rope, greeting her with double boots to the boobs. Kelli rockets back to the ropes, slamming into them and her arms draping over.
Kelli looks up just in time to see Kristy bounding off the rope across from her and sending a dropkick into her gut. Love practically slips through the top and middle rope, but she manages to grab the highest cable just in time to prevent a head cracking. Sanders does her part, of course, to help Kelli out by grabbing her by throat and pulling the rookie from the ropes. Kristy hoists Kelli across her shoulders. Kelli expects an agonizing torture rack. That is not what she gets. Sanders begins to spin.
SWISS AIRPLANE SPIN:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=xdz2pdym0M0
Kristy proves quickly that, if she ever leaves wrestling, she has a future as a human centrifuge. She twirls and twirls, even taking her hands off Kelli for a moment to show her skills at keeping the dizzy and ditzy blonde spinning like a side show act, before gripping Kelli by the belly and planting her to the mat. Plywood bends from the impact. Kristy bends down for the obvious pin.
ON--
Kelli bucks. It was expected, even if worth a shot. Sanders yanks Kelli up again, once more whipping her to the ropes. Kristy jumps in place, ready to give Love another stomping but this time Kelli manages to put on the brakes. Kristy slams to the mat, splaying on her back. Kelli jumps across her, bounces off the cables to her left, and cartwheels back - holding a handstand before dropping her body to cross Kristy's.
Kelli’s tummy SLAMS down across Sanders’ and the weight of Love’s body sends Kristy jerking up in a jackknife around her fellow blonde, the Real Deal’s brown eyes bugging. Sanders settles back to the canvas and it is Kelli’s turn to hook a leg for ONE…
Kristy kicks out convincingly, rolling to her chest. She starts to push up, but Kelli mounts her in a forward facing, standing straddle and drops her backside into the lower spine of Kylie’s cousin, flattening her foe to the mat.
Quickly, Love settles into a catcher’s squat. She posts one of Sanders’ arm over a knee then does likewise with the opposite number. Before Kristy can struggle free, Kelli leans forward with laced fingers and slides her cupped hands under Kristy’s chin. She yanks back, throwing her body weight in reverse in a crisp camel clutch that has those on the sidelines impressed and Kristy in teeth-clenching pain.
As Kelli increases the arch in Sanders’ spine, the ref drops in front of the Minnesotan.
“Whaddya say, Kristy. You wanta give it up?”
Her jaw locked by the clutch, the Black Sheep manages a mumbled ‘nmmmph’, the zebra accurately interprets as a ‘no’.
Kelli only leans back more in response, testing the breaking point of Sanders Part Deux After a solid dozen seconds of the torture, Kelli decides it’s too early to wrench a submission from Kristy. She slips one hand of the cup from beneath the blonde’s chin and sinks the nails into Kristy’s scalp before pulling back on Sanders’ noggin then throwing it forward, THUMPING her foe’s face into the deck.
The crowd seems a bit surprised by the fierce tactic from Love but they’re thoroughly behind the maneuver, cheering on Kelli in full-throated fashion.
With Sanders checking if she has a crease in her nose, both hands pressing tight to her proboscis, Love dismounts and delves both hands into Part Deux’s flaxen locks.
“Upsy daisy,” Kelli chirps, forcing Kristy up with a jerk, only to hair mare Sanders over in a forward flip, the Real Deal SLAMMING to the deck on her tailbone, Kristy’s face pinching in pain as her hands move to massage her muscular gluteus.
Showing more aggressiveness, Kelli adds a soccer kick to Kristy’s already aching spine. Sanders’ backbone arches in anguish, lids clenching.
As Kristy pays a further price in pain, a bouncy Love heads for the cables in front of her. She throws her curvy frame into the strands and speeds out in an 180 turn that ends when she leaps into a low-rise dropkick, her boots flattening Kristy’s bosom and clunking Sanders’ vertebrae and the back of her skull against the thinly-covered plywood.
With the Black Sheep splayed, Kelli scrambles to her feet and takes off for the ropes to Sanders’ side this time. Momentum gathered, she leaps over the horizontal Sanders and delivers a piercing elbow drop to the cleft of Kristy’s bosom, sending a spasm through the blonde’s body.
Kelli passes on another pin attempt, instead using Kristy’s gulping tummy to push to her feet. She skips over the downed Part Deux and backpedals her way to the ropes. Rebounding after her back hits the rubber-coated steel, Kelli goes airborne once more, aiming another elbow drop at the chest of the wincing Kristy. But this time Sanders has an answer of sorts, rolling out of the way. Kelli plants the tip of her elbow into the unforgiving deck and the busty blonde is immediately yelping, grasping at her right elbow. Ending on her back, Love shifts from side to side while, not far away, Sanders pushes to her feet, aching but also angry.
Moving to Kelli, the Black Sheep thumps a couple boot stomps into Kelli’s abundant cleavage then dips to grab a wrist and handful of golden locks. Ripping the Silver State Siren to her feet, Sanders delivers a pair of forearm smashes to the jaw of her foe, staggering Kelli then spinning her in an 180 with a third that snaps Love around.
Immediately, Kristy surrounds her foe’s tanned midriff with swaddling arms, cinching the limbs tight in a bearhug from behind. Showing power that her cousin couldn’t match, Kristy heaves her curvy foe off the canvas, Kelli’s legs sliding to either side of Kristy’s torso, Love draping down the legs of the Real Deal.
With a loud grunt and a terrific show of force, Kristy throws her body back like she’s hauling in a marlin with one last tug of her line. She sends Kelli hurtling up and over, THUNKING Love to the canvas with a vicious Wheelbarrow Suplex.
Wheelbarrow Suplex
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z6LYAxjO27Q ).
Kelli cradles the back of her braincase, eyelids clenched, while Sanders scrambles to hands and knees and dives atop Love’s frame in a crossbody pin for ONE…TWO… Love throws a shoulder up, Kristy sent popping up to her haunches, staring at the official accusingly.
The man holds up two fingers and, the third slap of the mat not having been particularly close, Kristy lets the decision slide.
Instead, she starts to rise, bringing a weakly protesting Kelli with her. Reaching her feet, Kylie’s cousin dips, throwing an arm between Love’s legs and scooping her foe off the canvas, drawing Love horizontal across her chest.
Gathering her reserves, Kristy bends slightly at the knees, readying to throw everything into reverse and send Kelli over and down in a mat-thumping Fallaway Slam.
Fallaway Slam
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aRAE0XAx_mE )
Kelli's body rolls across the mat, stopping on her back. Fans in the front row getting an amazing shot down her top stand and set off an explosion of camera flashes. The camera flashes aim upwards, though, at Sanders as she scales the turnbuckle and launches towards Love with a Diving Leg Drop!
DIVING LEG DROP:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=dpriF0bhvBY
Kristy's calf slams across Kelli's throat and somehow the Rookie Bombshell's head doesn't pop off and end up in a fan's lap. Kelli's eyes stare off into a far off nothingness and Kristy goes for the obvious pin.
ONE!…
TWO!…
THRE--
Kelli's shoulder pops up. Sanders is more than a little shocked by this, and annoyed. Didn't Kelli know she's a loser? At best she's here to fill out the roster for better wrestlers' “W” column. Sanders glares down at Love, who is heaving and trying to catch her breath, and is immediately taken by how cartoonish Kelli's form is.
“You look like a Barbie doll,” Sanders spits, smirking. Sanders flops Kelli onto her stomach and straddles her, facing the pink-clad fighter's feet. “And the best thing about playing with a Barbie doll is finding a new way to break it!” Kristy grabs Kelli's ankles and starts to pull up for a Boston crab. Instead, though, she crosses Kelli's feet – taking Kelli's left foot in her right hand and vice versa – before bending backwards in a Matrix-like move that stretches Kelli's torso out. Love slams her fists onto the mat, unable to hold back how much pain she's in. The ref falls to check on her.
“What do you say, Kelli? Want to end this?” he asks.
Tears well up slightly in Kelli's eyes but the flushing of her face and blaze in her eyes make obscure whether or not she's in pain or enraged. “No! NO NO NO!” Kelli shrieks, punching the canvas with her fist. Sanders cranks back, convinced she can get Love to break. Kelli palms the mat and pulls herself towards the ropes. At first, no one believes she'll get ground. But then Kelli pulls an inch… and another inch. Then, despite all odds, Love begins getting traction, dragging herself and Sanders towards the ropes. Flustered, Kristy releases Kelli's legs and stomps her on the back of her neck. Kelli flattens but the fans haven't given up hope. A chant begins as Sanders contemplates what to do next.
“KE-LLI! KE-LLI! KE-LLI!”
Sanders looks into the faces of the FAWNatics. A smile curls across her face. Kristy repositions herself, facing towards Kelli's head. Bending down, the second Sanders folds and wraps Kelli's legs around her own right leg. “Your fans want to show their support,” Kristy says. She reaches down and grabs Kelli's arms. She yanks them back, pulling Kelli's body back and stretching her out painfully. Love does see the fans, though. And it's the first time she remembers ever hearing the FAWNatics chant for her. It feels… good. It feels strengthening.
“Just another room full of people you're gonna let down,” Sanders growls as she places a boot against the back of Kelli's head. SLAM! A brutal curb stomp crushes Kelli's face to the mat. Kristy doesn't release the hold, though – not immediately. First, she leans all her weight onto Kelli's head while grinding her face into the canvas. It feels good to crush someone so useless. She could probably just pin Kelli now but what fun is that?
Kristy grabs Kelli's ankles and drags her closer to a corner. She puts all her strength into a rib kick that rolls Love onto her back. Sanders leans over her prey. “Not done playing with you, Barbie Dull.” She turns and scampers up the turnbuckles to the top of the ring post. Kelli watches her, heaving and aching, but she can still hear the FAWNatics calling to her. She watches Kristy launch from the top of the post in a Frog Splash to this soundtrack. But instead of fear, as she's had so many times in the ring, or shame, one feeling fills Kelli – a desire to earn that love.
As Kristy takes flight, Kelli goes to bring up her feet.
The heels of Kelli’s boots PLOW into the chin of the plummeting Sanders, Kristy’s head snapping back and her body following suit a split-second behind in whiplash fashion. The back of the blonde’s skull connects HARD with the mat and Sanders Part Deux rolls around the canvas, cradling the rear of her head, finally coming to a stop a few feet from Love.
With the crowd egging the underdog on, Kelli kips to her feet, energized, adrenaline clearly pumping full bore. She thrusts a right fist at the fans and they don’t let Love down, responding with a roar and a “WE…LOVE…LOVE!” chant.
To the busty blonde’s side, Kristy pushes to vertical, her head no doubt still ringing from Love’s well-timed counter. The Real Deal staggers in a drunken loop, finally making her way back to a waiting Love who CRAAACKS a knife-edge chop across Kristy’s chest.
Reflexively, the FAWNatics ‘woo’ loudly and a grinning Love loads up and delivers another couple blistering chops for good measure, lighting up the wincing Kristy, Sanders knocked back to her heels.
Kelli rotates to go face to face with the cringing Kristy, a red streak emerging on the chest of Black Sheep. Apparently Love is ready to dig in a little deeper. Lifting both hands, she fashions her fingers into claws and CLAMPS THEM ON TO KRISTY’S BREASTS!
The increasingly confident Love revels in the thunderous approval from the FAWNatics as she squeezes her digits into Sanders’ bosom, kneading and twisting, Kristy howling as her fellow blonde pushes Sanders into the ropes where Kelli continues to work over the former IC champion. Finally, Kristy gets her palms up to Love’s shoulders and shoves her foe off. She slips her upper half under the top rope and demands the official keep the hyped Kelli away.
The man in stripes slips between the blondes and ushers Love a few feet back, the FAWNatics reveling in Kristy being the one who has to beg for a timeout.
As Kristy is slow to reenter, the crowd picks an up a new infuriating chant “KY-LEE’S BETTER!” Though the assembled are no longer any friend of Kristy’s cousin, they know how to rub Part Deux the wrong way and Sanders demands the fools keep their mouths shut.
When the chant morphs to “KELL-EE’S BETTER!” Kristy can take no more. She bends her way back into the ring and pushes the official aside with a right cross cocked for Love’s chin. But when Sanders tosses, the Nevada native is ready with a blocking left forearm. Kelli pops Sanders in the jaw with a right, Kristy’s head swinging in the opposite direction of the connection. A snarling Real Deal returns fire but again Kelli blocks and connects. With the third, Kristy is rocked and with the fourth the flaxen-haired hardbody pirouettes to her back, ending horizontal at Kelli’s feet.
Kristy shakes some cobwebs, massaging her jaw, seemingly unsure of how she ended with canvas to her back. She blinks her dark eyes wide, the roar of the crowd filling her auditory senses, unaware Kelli is moving to the nearest corner and is climbing to the top.
Reaching the penthouse, the curvy blonde turns and measures Sanders, the look on Love’s face at once one of contained incredulity but also burgeoning belief. Kelli launches HIGH into the Orlando sky above the splayed Sanders, spinning through 450 full degrees before SLAMMING down across Kristy’s open midriff with a Shooting Star Press. Love NAILS the veteran, tummy to tummy, Kristy bugeyed as she jackknifes around Kelli’s body.
As Sanders’ legs lower, Love snatches them and pulls Kristy into a double-leg cradle, the crowd chanting along with the ref’s slaps of the mat.
ONE…
TWO…
Kristy kicks her way free with the official’s hand coming down for the third time, the crowd groaning with disappointment at the upset being avoided. Sanders rolls to her chest and breathlessly drags her way toward the ropes. Kelli, having risen to boot leather, strides after the veteran, looking the rare hunter instead of her usual hunted.
Grabbing Kristy by the ankles, she flips Sanders to her back and drags her fellow blonde toward the middle of the ring. Love spreads the legs of the Black Sheep wide. Kristy raises both arms, palms extended toward Kelli, Sanders window-washing in a silent plea to stay away from her privates.
A grinning Love shakes her head. And while Kelli doesn’t lay the wood to Kristy’s crotch with a boot, she does vault into the air, legs extended. Landing within and above Sanders’ stems, she leg drops the inside of Kristy’s thighs. The Real Deal is in real pain, Kristy shooting up to a seated position as she grabs at her stretched groin muscles. Love punishes her hardbody foe with a right cross to the jaw that drops Sanders back to the mat in a daze, the crowd barely believing their eyes as Kelli starts to dominate.
Truthfully, Kelli barely believes it, either, but she's not about to question it. She gets to her feet, taking in all the FAWNatics at theirs as well, and pride swells. A little nagging voice, not dissimilar to a certain goth in her life, pipes up in her head. “You're not done with this until you're on top of a three count.” Still, even though she doesn't know Sanders personally, knowing her history – as well as the insults at the match's start – makes it hard to not want to punish her just a little more.
Kelli reaches down once more and grabs Kristy's legs and pulls them up and apart. The Black Sheep, coming out of a daze, realizes what's going on only too late as Kelli drops, forehead first, into Kristy's crotch. If Part Deux had any downs there were rocks in Kelli's skull before, the jarring agony of what feels like a boulder trying to give her a high impact gynecological exam dismisses it. Kristy's body shudders as she looks down. Kelli peers up at her, impishly, from between her legs and giggles. She gives the splayed out woman's thighs a pinch and says, “Y'know, if you had someone like me face down in your lap more often, you probably wouldn't be such an unpleasant bitch all the time.” Kelli gives Kristy an infuriating wink and blows a kiss, but all Sanders can do is fume.
Kelli rises and takes two fistfuls of mane to hoist her enemy up. The referee gives the standard warning and, while high on her sudden success, Kelli isn't so far up in the clouds she doesn't heed his warning. Kelli moves her clutch to Kristy's left arm and begins spinning her around and around, picking up speed, until releasing the limb and flinging the wayward Sanders cousin into a corner. Kristy slams into the turnbuckle, back first, but catches the middle rope before sliding to her butt. Kelli bolts towards the other blonde, doing a picture perfect handspring before slamming into Sanders with a corner splash. Kelli's generous meat shelf lands ring in Kristy's face and Love is sure to hold it there for a bit, giving a wiggle, before pulling back and letting Sanders drop to a seat against the bottom turnbuckle.
The agile bombsell jumps atop Sanders, her crotch slamming into Kristy's mouth, and begins a bronco buster. “I bet you and I would totally be friends outside the ring,” Kelli laughs as she paintbrushes her crotch into Part Deux's face. “Maybe we should go to a club sometime. I could show you how to have fun, how to dance.” Kelli slams down hard once more, ramming Kristy's head against the bottom turnbuckle, before dismounting. The referee begins his count but Kelli only turns and squats. “Like, I've just gotten into twerking. Tell me what you think!” And with that, Kelli begins to twerk her big, round butt into Kristy's nose like she's dribbling a basketball.
The fans are besides themselves at the mere sight. Cameras whip out to capture this moment. Hell, even the Gladiatrix photographer is all but climbing in the ring to snap it up. But the referee reaches the end of his count and snaps at Kelli for attention.
“C'mon, Love!” he rasps. “Let her out. The rules apply to you, too.”
Kelli gives one final buttslam before standing up and pouting. She starts to protest but she's cut off by two things: first, common sense. She knows he's right. Second? Pain. A lot of pain as Kristy Sanders, red-faced and just utterly done with Kelli's humiliation, Mario-punches up between Kelli's legs into her womanhood. It's a loud, wet slap of a fist and Kelli feels her stomach about to lurch upwards as she stumbles forwards and collapses to her knees. She holds herself, feeling the mat trembling as Kristy rises behind her. A boot lands between Kelli's shoulder blades, pushing her down to all fours.
“Familiar position, whore?” Sanders roars as she stomps Kelli down to her belly. Fans boo as FAWN's most hated cousin drops to a knee in the small of the former escort's back. Kelli tries to squirm away but she feels Kristy's vicelike grip on her wrists pulling her arms backwards. Sanders gets to her feet, standing on Kelli and yanking over and over like she's trying to pull the arms out of socket. Kelli tugs but she can't loosen the limbs. Desperate, Kelli starts kicking her left leg towards the ropes. Closer… closer….
But before Love can reach the safety of the cables, Kristy gives up the idea of dislocating the bimbo’s arms for a curbstomp. She places a boot behind Kelli’s skull and releases her grip on the wrists, THUMPING Love’s face into the canvas in brutal fashion. Kelli’s head bounces off the thinly-covered plywood, features twisted in pain.
An embarrassed Sanders scowls as she circles the curvy blonde who’s rolled to her back, covering her face with both hands. Kristy takes the opportunity to deliver a boot to her foe’s tanned midriff. Kelli collapses around the impact ‘guuuufing’ then rolling to her side so the Black Sheep cannot repeat the process.
“I’m an important part of FAWN,” Sanders shouts. “I’m an ex-champion,” she adds. “And more than you, I’m a wrestler.”
Kristy lands another stomp to Kelli’s nearly unavoidable breasts before reaching down to pluck Love off the canvas with a handful of hair. The powerful lightweight dips and scoops Kelli off the canvas but instead of rotating her to one shoulder, she keeps the squirming Love close across her chest. Grunting loudly, Sanders heaves the Nevada native overhead as she drops backward in a Fallaway Slam.
Fallaway Slam
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aRAE0XAx_mE )
Kelli’s body THWAPS against the canvas, landing harshly on her spine. She rolls several times from the momentum, coming to a stop beneath the bottom rope. A risen Kristy races to Love and delivers a dropkick to her near shoulder to deliver Kelli under and through, Love plopping to the floor outside.
Kristy pushes to her feet and raises her arms high and wide, taking credit for depositing the Nevada native on the outside looking in. The crowd is less enthused, giving Kylie’s cousin a loud round of boos to which Kristy seems unimpressed.
With Kelli rising, not totally aware of her surroundings and her closeness to the apron, Kristy dips through the cables and latches onto Love’s flaxen locks. She yanks a yelping Kelli up to the apron, but a quick-thinking Kelli reaches over her shoulder, wraps her arms around the back of Kristy’s noggin and drops to the floor. The move sends Sanders’ throat down across the top rope and she reels in a u-turn away from the strand, hotshotted to the opposite side of the ring, grasping at her throat.
Outside, Kelli discusses her brilliance with fans in the front row, pointing at her temple to let those in the back row know how smart she is. But while she does, a recovering Kristy, rubbing at the red stripe across her neck, gathers and sprints toward the ropes. Sanders sails through and NAILS the turning Kelli with a Suicide Dive, the Real Deal SLAMMING into Love and driving her against the steel of the barricade.
Love’s vertebrae THWACK against the metal and she slides down the barrier to pool in front of Sanders, Kristy on her knees. Never one to avoid fisticuffs when the option is available, Kristy batters the dazed Kelli with swabbing rights and lefts. Love picks off some with raised forearms, but a few make it through, leaving her in a more stupefied state.
With the count growing, Kristy rises, dragging Kelli to her feet, Love’s legs rubbery as she’s ‘guided’ to the apron with an Irish Whip, her backbone CRASHING into the apron’s edge. The curvy blonde howls in pain, her back arching from the anguish of the impact, leaving her proffered tummy an inviting target and Sanders delivers a raised knee. Kristy THUMPS it deep into the pit of Love’s belly.
Grabbing Love by a shoulder and the scruff of her foe’s neck, the Black Sheep spins and tosses Kelli back into the ring. The crowd is browbeaten by Sanders, some FAWNatics apparently feeling silly for having believed Love could beat a former champion.
Kristy follows her foe back in, popping to her feet with Love having made it to hands and knees. She ‘helps’ Kelli up the rest of the way and spins the bimbo so she’s faced away from her. Turning back to back with her foe, Sanders hooks elbows with her fellow blonde and ‘hups’ Love across her back as she leans forward.
With her bouncy backpack secured in place, the Black Sheep shifts her grip to one arm then sweeps one of her upper limbs across Kelli’s throat, ready to lay out and PLANT Love’s face and chest into the canvas with the Twin Cities Tumbler.
Twin Cities Tumbler
(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zUnS9XJdtxo ).
The brutal impact sends Kelli barrel rolling to her back, spreading out in a wide starfish. Kristy leaps atop her foe in a crossbody pin and hooks the far leg for a…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Love throws a shoulder off the canvas to the great relief and delight of the FAWNatics, even if it’s only to foil Sanders’ celebration for another three seconds.
Kristy Sanders is, to put it lightly, livid.
The Black Sheep slams a fist into Kelli's mouth, followed by a right cross. “No closed fists!” the ref demands but Sanders only smirks. “I'm just trying to help her save money on botox.” Kristy makes a sweeping gesture like presenting Kelli's body. “She obviously needs to save all the money she can 'cuz this wrestling thing is over for her.” The ref isn't swayed, so Sanders slugs Kelli once more before rising.
Kelli writhes on the mat, trying to push herself up. As Love pushes herself up to a sitting position, Kristy leans down and slowly rakes her nails down Love's back. “Just so we're clear, I'm going to make you suffer like no one has before,” Sanders says matter-of-factly as she leaves a trail of red scratches on Kelli's back. “It's only a matter of whether or not you want to get your humiliation over quickly or have it doubled.”
Had this offer been made to Kelli when she first joined FAWN, there's no doubt in anyone's mind she'd have submitted and be on hands and knees, begging for pity. But now, Kelli only spits back, “Go to hell, has-been!”
“Only to drop you off, never-was,” Sanders replies. She rips her nails further down and kicks Kelli across the back of the head for good measure. As Kelli slumps forward, Sanders saunters over towards a turnbuckle and scales it to the top of the ringpost. She points to Kelli, who is stumbling to her feed, and draws a finger across her own neck. Fans boo, and it seems to empower her. As Kelli stands, Kristy reminds everyone she's a hell of a highflyer but showing off a move not usually in her stable of attacks, but flawless nonetheless – a dragonrana!
DRAGANRANA:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=FYA7_lHBCNU
The execution is perfect. Kristy lands across Kelli's shoulders and neck, flips herself and her opponent backwards, and lands on top of Kelli in a pin. The ref falls to count and Kristy raises her arms in triumph.
ONE!
TWO!
THRE--
Kelli bucks out. She bucks hard enough to even dislodge Kristy from her body. Sanders looks like a catfish waiting for a hook to go into her mouth as she stares at the blonde shambles at her feet.
“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” Kristy shrieks. “Fine, fine. Bitch wants it the hard way, bitch gets it the hard way.” Kelli pushes herself up only to be met with a spinning kick to the ribs. Another goes across Kelli's jaw, sending her back into the ropes. The former escort's arms tangle over the top cable. Kristy stomps towards Kelli, seeming to study all the pain and exhaustion in Love's face. When the embattled woman looks up at Kristy, the Black Sheep overs a smile followed by a backhanded slap across the face. The ref scolds Kristy about attacking while Kelli's on the ropes, but Sanders shrugs. “She's a ho, just trying to make her feel at home.”
Sanders pulls Love from the ropes, parading her around the ring by her hair. But it's really past time to end all of this and get to the fun part of ending Kelli. Sanders Part Deux yanks Kelli towards a corner again, heaving Love up and shoving her into a seated position on the top turnbuckle, facing into the ring. “You're going to be the second whore whose wrestling career I've ended,” Kristy laughs in Kelli's face. “When you slink back to the streetcorner, tell Holly I said hello.” Kelli is dazed, and hurt, but the hate in her eyes is genuine and, to Kristy, delicious. Sanders backs up, runs up the ropes, and kicks her legs behind Kelli's head to knock her off the turnbuckle and bulldog her down to the mat for the Black Sheep's feared finisher, the Kristy Krusher!
Kelli, however, has other plans.
As Kristy bounds up the ropes, Kelli reaches down behind the turnbuckle, grabs her ankles, and pulls them up. Flopping forward, Kelli falls down and slams into the middle turnbuckle – which isn't fun – but it's more fun that Kristy has as her leg soars through the air that once contained Kelli's noggin. As Kristy slams to the mat, Kelli flips off the turnbuckles and lands on her feet. Kristy hops to her feet and spins around but only to catch a lariat across the throat. Kristy lands on her ass but is almost immediately up again. And this time, Kelli slams a superkick into her jaw. The fans rise as the Black Sheep is laid out.
But Sanders is far from out. The ring vet rolls away Kelli drops a leg for Kristy's throat. Both women hop up. Kelli rushes Kristy but Sanders sidesteps and trips Kelli like a schoolyard bully. Kelli catches herself with her hands. As Kristy steps behind her to grab legs, Love raises her lower half and slams both boots into Kristy's gut. As Sanders bows and clutches the blow, Love is up and racing towards the ropes. The Nevada bombshell whips herself off them runs at Sanders and grabs onto her head for a spinning neckbreaker!
SPINNING NECKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gu8fF2xiQEw
Kelli drapes herself across Kristy in a grapevine, positioning herself just right to lay her rack across Kristy's face for an added smother.
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Kristy bucks out. Kelli is undeterred. She wraps an arm around the back of Kristy's head, securing her face in its juggy prison, while standing them both up. Kelli decides to repay a few of the face shots from earlier with some slugs to Kristy's belly, but again the ref warns about closed fists and Kelli is too much of a good girl to argue with him. Sanders doesn't have such compunctions, though, and grabs a fistful of hair, ripping Kelli's head back as she punches back to Kelli's stomach. More importantly, Kristy frees herself from the smother, pulling in air. The oil and sweat on Kristy's face only accentuate how utterly furious she is.
Despite the referee's protests, Kristy belts Kelli once more slinging her to the ropes. Sanders shoves a boot up to catch the bimbo, but Kelli leaps it – and lands across Kristy's neck, yanking her backwards for a Frankensteiner!
FRANKENSTEINER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=5yGf8n3rpc0
Kristy spills across the mat but shoves herself up. Kelli is also up, but runs to the ropes. As Part Deux closes in, Kelli races up the cables to the top rope and spins off it, landing a flying superkick across Kristy's temple. The fans draw in horrified breath at the sound of the kick, which spirals Kristy before slumping her to her knees. Love runs up behind Kristy, pulling her up to her feet by her waist, before once more whipping herself off the ropes in front of the Black Sheep. On her return trip, Kelli launches onto Kristy for her finisher, Love-Struck!
LOVE-STRUCK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=352jrqIWSFY
Kristy's body splats to the mat. Kelly grabs a handful of blonde tresses and yanks Kristy's head up, shoving it back into her cleavage. The fans cheer as Kelli wraps her arms around Kristy's head, burying her deep, and holding her there for a bit before laying down on top of her in another grapevine/smother combo. The referee falls to count.
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!
Kelli waits for Kristy to buck out, not even realizing the bell's rung, so she continues to hold the smother. When it finally dawns on her, Kelli looks up in shock. The referee bends down.
“Kelli, you won!” he yells.
“I won?” Kelli asks.
“You won!” he repeats.
“I won!” Kelli chirps.
“So break the smother!” the referee adds.
“Oh, crap!” Kelli launches off Kristy, who is now somewhere between the waking world and a cleavagey purgatory. The referee raises Kelli's arm as the announcer comes to life.
“Ladies and gentlemen, your winner – by pinfall – KELLI LOOOOOOOVE!”
Tears well up in Kelli's eyes as the FAWNatices cheer her on. Being on this side of a victory in FAWN feels good. It feels like nothing knock her off her pedestal. Then, from the corner of her eye, Kelli sees something moving towards her and fast. A sneak attack?! Kelli feels panic as she turns towards whoever it is.
Trixie launches onto Kelli, wrapping arms around her neck and legs around her waist for a deadly hug and cheek kiss combo! “You did it! I told you that you could!” Trixie beams, almost to the point of tears herself for her friend. “See! I told you! Remember? I've been telling you ever since--”
Kelli hugs her friend back tightly before setting the goth down on the canvas. Trixie raises Kelli's arm. It may not be a belt match and Kelli may not be a top draw, but for the blonde it feels like it. The attendees are all too happy to lavish the praise.
Then, in the front row, someone screams, “Strip her! Strip Kristy!”
Kelli blushes. “Oh, I couldn't--”
“She'd do it to you,” Trixie shoots back. “She's done it to others. That's part of the game around here and she knows it.”
“That doesn't mean I have to do it,” Kelli says defiantly.
Trixie reaches into her own bra and fishes around. “Fine, but I know something you do wanna do.” Trixie pulls out a tube of pink lipstick. Kelli's favorite brand and color, too. Perfectly Pink Pucker. Love's eyes brighten at the sight. She offers a slightly mischievous giggle.
“Well, I mean, I should do -something-, right?” Kelli says as she takes the tube. Kelli applies a generous line of lipstick to her lips before turning to wear Kristy is laid out. Trixie ushers over Gladiatrix photographers while Kelli sits astride Sander's belly. She leans down to give her a big kiss on the lips. Pulling back, Kristy's lips are now bright pink. Kelli plants another kiss on her cheek, leaving another set of prints, and then moves down to Kristy's heaving bosom. Kelli places the lipstick to Kristy's chest and begins to write, “You were Loved! XOXO – Kelli!” She places another kiss on Kristy's breast before rising.
“Not even gonna pull her top down a little?” Trixie asks.
Kelli doesn't answer. Instead, she climbs from the ring with her friend and walks up the aisle. Kelli sees a pretty young woman in the fans holding something she's rarely seen, a sign for Kelli. “I LOVE LOVE!” it says. Kelli leans across the barrier, pecks the young woman's forehead and pushes the lipstick tube into her palm. The two vanish behind the curtain, and the only sound louder than the fans is Kelli's sudden, excited squeal as her first victory in FAWN truly sets in.
Backstage at the arena, Kelli Love is in constant motion. Partly, it's stretching and hyping herself for the match ahead of her. It's also partly because she's nervous. Her record in FAWN hasn't been stellar, in the way a record with nothing but losses can be described as, “not stellar.” Still, the busty blonde has faith in herself. Not as much as she'd like, but faith is there.
As Kelli bends down and clutches her calves to stretch, a familiar voice behind her sounds off. “You're gonna do great.”
TRIXIE “JINX” DECKER:
Trixie Decker, Kelli's friend, training buddy, and preferred person to run into rings to save others from bullies with, leans against the wall. “You need me to come down ringside to keep her honest?”
It's a tempting offer and Kelli really does, but she shakes her head. “You always offer, and it's sweet, but I've gotta go by myself. Even if I lose and she's going old school FAWN on me, hang back, okay?”
Trixie nods. “I won't have to worry about that. You're gonna plant her into the mat.”
Kelli snorts a little. “Stranger things have happened, I guess.”
The brunette pinches the pink-clad blonde on her side, getting Love to yelp. “None of that. You can do that. You can win.”
“Just not in FAWN,” Kelli says, still forcing a smile.
“Not in FAWN yet,” Trixie replies, giving her friend a hug. Just then, over the sound system, the announcer sounds off.
“Our next match is a standard contest. First, from Pahrump, Nevada, standing at five feet, five inches and one hundred and twenty-eight pounds…. KELLI LOVE!”
“PERFECT (EXCEEDER)” BY MASON (VS. PRINCESS SUPERSTAR)
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gdg8yniUbjk
Kelli pecks Trixie on the cheek. “Thanks for the pep talk!” She bolts through the curtains, arms raised, to the FAWNatics. Her self doubt is well hidden with her stage persona, blowing kisses and slapping hands with fans as she trots down the ramp. Sure, a lot of the attendees are more interested in seeing her rack bounce, barely contained in her pink bra, or her ass filling out her frilly pink panties, or her nice legs in her pink fishnets and heart-clasped garter belt. But, despite her losing streak, many fans have come to respect Kelli's willingness to be at her friends' sides when certain thugs step out of line… even when it would probably still be smarter to hang back.
A former cheerleader and gymnast, Kelli handsprings the last few feet to the ring, hops on the skirt, and flips over the top rope. The fans eat it up. She rushes up a corner, standing on the top turnbuckle, and blows kisses. The fans cheer her hard and the support strengthens her. Maybe she can do this.
KRISTY SANDERS
It hadn’t been much of a year for the Sanders clan in FAWN. Kylie losing her title belt last fall and apparently run out of the organization by Wendy Smith who herself had mostly disappeared. And as for Kristy, she’d been relegated to the house show circuit where she continued to plug along, at least until this PPV curtain jerker against a winless bimbo.
Still, it was a match on the main show and Kristy fidgets nervously behind the curtain as the house lights blink to inky blackness. The dark is replaced with twisting, twirling strobes, an inspired swirl of golden spotlights interspersed with leopard spots that fill the arena. A feline, feral growl roars over the speakers. Following quickly behind comes the opening strains of Velvet Revolver’s cover of ‘Psycho Killer’.
“PSYCHO KILLER” BY VELVER REVOLVER
www.youtube.com/watch?v=pCZFjZCPC0Y
The reaction is mixed, some of the crowd cheering with a mixture of catcalls thrown in. FAWN’s Black Sheep in leopard’s clothing appears, the volume increasing on both sides, the crowd torn. Sanders Part Deux accepts both in kind, simply happy to be back on a PPV.
“And her opponent. Hailing from Eden Prairie, Minnesota, standing 5 feet 6 inches, weighing in at 125 pounds, THE REAL DEAL, KRISTY SANDERS!”
Having returned to her blonde roots, the blonde hardbody focuses on the ring, ignoring the FAWNatics as if second nature. Sanders is clad in her familiar skin-tight leopard print one-piece, the material seemingly painted on. Below the ‘skirtish’ bum-hugging bottoms of the strapless onesy, is a flash of similarly spotted panties, and, not that many noticed, the ‘jungle cat’ concludes her attire with black pads and boots.
Keeping to the middle, burning holes in anyone who meets her gaze or rides her about being a FORMER champion, Kristy reaches the squared circle, heads for the steps and slides into the ring.
Kristy offers a double bicep pose to the nearest lens then nods in the direction of either gun, mouthing the words “LEGEND” and “KILLER”. She kisses each flexed arm. “and they can kill the odd hack of a bimbo given the opportunity.”
Kristy turns and shrugs toward Kelli.
“Nuff said.”
Sanders moves to her corner, looking Love up and down, seemingly far from impressed.
From across the ring, staring at Sanders's back, Kelli can't tell what was being said but she is positive it was an insult about her. Love isn't hateful by nature – there probably couldn't be a better person to receive her surname – but all her time around Trixie has rubbed an urge to resort straight to snide comments. Not often, but occasion. Watching tapes of Kristy's career with Trixie was also probably a bad idea, as the Jinx makes training equal parts planning and MST3K sessions. But Kelli remembers Sanders has had more than one belt around her waist and that's no fluke.
Also, she remembers Holly Hotbody. Kelli had never met her – she'd left FAWN long before she or Trixie showed up. She'd been a fan favorite for both her skill and, as a former exotic dancer, her sexiness. She'd gone toe-to-toe with some of FAWN's biggest names, amassing impressive wins. Then she faced Sanders six years ago. Kelli had seen the match. Kristy destroyed her in the ring. She'd had to be carried away. She was never seen in FAWN again. That was the end of her career here.
That's who you're facing, Kelli reminded herself. This is serious. You can't screw around.
The bell rings and the two women circle. Sanders stares holes through Love. The two women lock up at the shoulders and Kristy drives Kelli back to the ropes behind her, pulling back on Kelli's golden locks. Love yips as her head snaps back and Sanders hauls back and delivers a loud “CRACK” via a backhand across Kelli's breasts. The referee demands Kristy let Kelli off the rope and the veteran backs away, smirking as Kelli massages her meat shelf. The women circle again and Kelli lunges for a lock-up, only to be caught by Kristy. The vicious Minnesotan snags Love by the wrist and twists it behind her back. Kelli bites her lip as she grips her shoulder. She attempts to reverse the hold but each step is met with a counter, Kristy staying right behind her and cranking the arm up higher. Kelly notices one of Kristy's legs between her own. It's worth a shot, she tells herself, as she grabs at Kristy's calf.
Gritting her perfect pearlies as she reaches down to gather up Sanders’ leg, knowing such a move would increase the pain in her captured arm, Kelli yanks Kristy’s lower limb forward, tripping up the Black Sheep and sending her crashing to the canvas.
On the way down, Kristy releases her grip on the busty blonde and Love spins to add to her sudden advantage. Measuring Kristy’s chest, she drops an elbow, but Sanders rolls clear and the bony point of Love’s arm thumps into the thinly-sheathed plywood.
Kelli yelps in pain as she heads in the opposite direction of her opponent, holding her wounded wing close. Both women rise to their feet for a stare down, Kristy nodding.
“Maybe you’re not a complete lost cause,” Sanders says, “but you’re nowhere near good enough to deal with me.”
The blondes move in circles that grow closer until Kelli and Kristy meet in a collar-and-elbow tie-up. The difference in size is nearly negligible, Love with more chest, Sanders with more booty. The lower center of gravity provides the veteran the base to slowly but surely move Kelli to the buckles behind her. With Love’s back pressed to the corner, the official calls for a break and Kristy complies, raising her hands and backing away. Love is pleasantly surprised by Sanders following the rules, but a flash of nails ends the charade, Kristy scraping her fingertips across Kelli’s dark peepers. Love shrieks in pain, stumbling blindly out of the corner with Kristy in hot pursuit.
“Then again,” Sanders adds, snaking her arms under and around those of her foe, lacing her fingers behind Kelli’s neck in a full nelson. She swings the bimbo’s head wildly from side to side, scrambling her gray matter before releasing her grip and grabbing a wrist. She sends Kelli into a pirouette before pulling her in like a yo-yo and nearly decapitating her with a short-arm clothesline.
They told me I have nothing to gain by beating you,” Kristy informs. “As I see it, it all depends on how badly I beat you.” Sanders stomps the chest of the downed blonde, one, two, three times.
“And that’s going to be badly.”
Kristy takes off for the ropes in front of her and rebounds toward the aching Love. Sanders launches extending both legs, one aimed across Kelli’s throat, the other her chest. But this time, it’s Love who evacuates and the Real Deal comes up empty, landing on her tailbone, a shockwave moving up and down her spinal column.
A yipping Kristy massages her backside to the chuckles of the first row. Redfaced with embarrassment, Sanders scrambles to her feet and meets a vertical Kelli. Each blonde has a right arm drawn for a clothesline and each connects flush, the grapplers simultaneously dropping their respective rival hard against the mat.
The ref checks on both and, with each slow to rise, starts his count on both. Slowly, each blonde pushes her way up and Kelli goes back to the well, taking another swipe. Kristy ducks the effort and wraps her right arm around the throat and shoulder of Love. Pulling the busty beauty in close, Sanders launches Kelli high into the Orlando night and lays out, PLANTING Love with a Side Effect.
SIDE EFFECT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=JF8nmsIzxE4
Kelli hits with enough force to send her to a momentary headstand before she timbers to her side, the crowd silenced by the success of Kylie’s cousin. Kristy eschews the pin, instead taking the opportunity to stroll smugly around the writhing Love, one of Kelli’s hands glued to her lower spine as she winces in pain.
“Whoever told you facing me is a good idea,” Kristy enlightens, “you might want to consider them as an enemy instead of a friend.”
Kristy has, of course, heard this before - more than once. Not to say it isn't annoying, but mostly because someone so far beneath her would dare to be lippy. She makes a detour on her smugness tour and takes a handful of Kelli's golden hair, ripping her all the way up. Kristy slings Kelli towards the opposite rope, greeting her with double boots to the boobs. Kelli rockets back to the ropes, slamming into them and her arms draping over.
Kelli looks up just in time to see Kristy bounding off the rope across from her and sending a dropkick into her gut. Love practically slips through the top and middle rope, but she manages to grab the highest cable just in time to prevent a head cracking. Sanders does her part, of course, to help Kelli out by grabbing her by throat and pulling the rookie from the ropes. Kristy hoists Kelli across her shoulders. Kelli expects an agonizing torture rack. That is not what she gets. Sanders begins to spin.
SWISS AIRPLANE SPIN:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=xdz2pdym0M0
Kristy proves quickly that, if she ever leaves wrestling, she has a future as a human centrifuge. She twirls and twirls, even taking her hands off Kelli for a moment to show her skills at keeping the dizzy and ditzy blonde spinning like a side show act, before gripping Kelli by the belly and planting her to the mat. Plywood bends from the impact. Kristy bends down for the obvious pin.
ON--
Kelli bucks. It was expected, even if worth a shot. Sanders yanks Kelli up again, once more whipping her to the ropes. Kristy jumps in place, ready to give Love another stomping but this time Kelli manages to put on the brakes. Kristy slams to the mat, splaying on her back. Kelli jumps across her, bounces off the cables to her left, and cartwheels back - holding a handstand before dropping her body to cross Kristy's.
Kelli’s tummy SLAMS down across Sanders’ and the weight of Love’s body sends Kristy jerking up in a jackknife around her fellow blonde, the Real Deal’s brown eyes bugging. Sanders settles back to the canvas and it is Kelli’s turn to hook a leg for ONE…
Kristy kicks out convincingly, rolling to her chest. She starts to push up, but Kelli mounts her in a forward facing, standing straddle and drops her backside into the lower spine of Kylie’s cousin, flattening her foe to the mat.
Quickly, Love settles into a catcher’s squat. She posts one of Sanders’ arm over a knee then does likewise with the opposite number. Before Kristy can struggle free, Kelli leans forward with laced fingers and slides her cupped hands under Kristy’s chin. She yanks back, throwing her body weight in reverse in a crisp camel clutch that has those on the sidelines impressed and Kristy in teeth-clenching pain.
As Kelli increases the arch in Sanders’ spine, the ref drops in front of the Minnesotan.
“Whaddya say, Kristy. You wanta give it up?”
Her jaw locked by the clutch, the Black Sheep manages a mumbled ‘nmmmph’, the zebra accurately interprets as a ‘no’.
Kelli only leans back more in response, testing the breaking point of Sanders Part Deux After a solid dozen seconds of the torture, Kelli decides it’s too early to wrench a submission from Kristy. She slips one hand of the cup from beneath the blonde’s chin and sinks the nails into Kristy’s scalp before pulling back on Sanders’ noggin then throwing it forward, THUMPING her foe’s face into the deck.
The crowd seems a bit surprised by the fierce tactic from Love but they’re thoroughly behind the maneuver, cheering on Kelli in full-throated fashion.
With Sanders checking if she has a crease in her nose, both hands pressing tight to her proboscis, Love dismounts and delves both hands into Part Deux’s flaxen locks.
“Upsy daisy,” Kelli chirps, forcing Kristy up with a jerk, only to hair mare Sanders over in a forward flip, the Real Deal SLAMMING to the deck on her tailbone, Kristy’s face pinching in pain as her hands move to massage her muscular gluteus.
Showing more aggressiveness, Kelli adds a soccer kick to Kristy’s already aching spine. Sanders’ backbone arches in anguish, lids clenching.
As Kristy pays a further price in pain, a bouncy Love heads for the cables in front of her. She throws her curvy frame into the strands and speeds out in an 180 turn that ends when she leaps into a low-rise dropkick, her boots flattening Kristy’s bosom and clunking Sanders’ vertebrae and the back of her skull against the thinly-covered plywood.
With the Black Sheep splayed, Kelli scrambles to her feet and takes off for the ropes to Sanders’ side this time. Momentum gathered, she leaps over the horizontal Sanders and delivers a piercing elbow drop to the cleft of Kristy’s bosom, sending a spasm through the blonde’s body.
Kelli passes on another pin attempt, instead using Kristy’s gulping tummy to push to her feet. She skips over the downed Part Deux and backpedals her way to the ropes. Rebounding after her back hits the rubber-coated steel, Kelli goes airborne once more, aiming another elbow drop at the chest of the wincing Kristy. But this time Sanders has an answer of sorts, rolling out of the way. Kelli plants the tip of her elbow into the unforgiving deck and the busty blonde is immediately yelping, grasping at her right elbow. Ending on her back, Love shifts from side to side while, not far away, Sanders pushes to her feet, aching but also angry.
Moving to Kelli, the Black Sheep thumps a couple boot stomps into Kelli’s abundant cleavage then dips to grab a wrist and handful of golden locks. Ripping the Silver State Siren to her feet, Sanders delivers a pair of forearm smashes to the jaw of her foe, staggering Kelli then spinning her in an 180 with a third that snaps Love around.
Immediately, Kristy surrounds her foe’s tanned midriff with swaddling arms, cinching the limbs tight in a bearhug from behind. Showing power that her cousin couldn’t match, Kristy heaves her curvy foe off the canvas, Kelli’s legs sliding to either side of Kristy’s torso, Love draping down the legs of the Real Deal.
With a loud grunt and a terrific show of force, Kristy throws her body back like she’s hauling in a marlin with one last tug of her line. She sends Kelli hurtling up and over, THUNKING Love to the canvas with a vicious Wheelbarrow Suplex.
Wheelbarrow Suplex
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z6LYAxjO27Q ).
Kelli cradles the back of her braincase, eyelids clenched, while Sanders scrambles to hands and knees and dives atop Love’s frame in a crossbody pin for ONE…TWO… Love throws a shoulder up, Kristy sent popping up to her haunches, staring at the official accusingly.
The man holds up two fingers and, the third slap of the mat not having been particularly close, Kristy lets the decision slide.
Instead, she starts to rise, bringing a weakly protesting Kelli with her. Reaching her feet, Kylie’s cousin dips, throwing an arm between Love’s legs and scooping her foe off the canvas, drawing Love horizontal across her chest.
Gathering her reserves, Kristy bends slightly at the knees, readying to throw everything into reverse and send Kelli over and down in a mat-thumping Fallaway Slam.
Fallaway Slam
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aRAE0XAx_mE )
Kelli's body rolls across the mat, stopping on her back. Fans in the front row getting an amazing shot down her top stand and set off an explosion of camera flashes. The camera flashes aim upwards, though, at Sanders as she scales the turnbuckle and launches towards Love with a Diving Leg Drop!
DIVING LEG DROP:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=dpriF0bhvBY
Kristy's calf slams across Kelli's throat and somehow the Rookie Bombshell's head doesn't pop off and end up in a fan's lap. Kelli's eyes stare off into a far off nothingness and Kristy goes for the obvious pin.
ONE!…
TWO!…
THRE--
Kelli's shoulder pops up. Sanders is more than a little shocked by this, and annoyed. Didn't Kelli know she's a loser? At best she's here to fill out the roster for better wrestlers' “W” column. Sanders glares down at Love, who is heaving and trying to catch her breath, and is immediately taken by how cartoonish Kelli's form is.
“You look like a Barbie doll,” Sanders spits, smirking. Sanders flops Kelli onto her stomach and straddles her, facing the pink-clad fighter's feet. “And the best thing about playing with a Barbie doll is finding a new way to break it!” Kristy grabs Kelli's ankles and starts to pull up for a Boston crab. Instead, though, she crosses Kelli's feet – taking Kelli's left foot in her right hand and vice versa – before bending backwards in a Matrix-like move that stretches Kelli's torso out. Love slams her fists onto the mat, unable to hold back how much pain she's in. The ref falls to check on her.
“What do you say, Kelli? Want to end this?” he asks.
Tears well up slightly in Kelli's eyes but the flushing of her face and blaze in her eyes make obscure whether or not she's in pain or enraged. “No! NO NO NO!” Kelli shrieks, punching the canvas with her fist. Sanders cranks back, convinced she can get Love to break. Kelli palms the mat and pulls herself towards the ropes. At first, no one believes she'll get ground. But then Kelli pulls an inch… and another inch. Then, despite all odds, Love begins getting traction, dragging herself and Sanders towards the ropes. Flustered, Kristy releases Kelli's legs and stomps her on the back of her neck. Kelli flattens but the fans haven't given up hope. A chant begins as Sanders contemplates what to do next.
“KE-LLI! KE-LLI! KE-LLI!”
Sanders looks into the faces of the FAWNatics. A smile curls across her face. Kristy repositions herself, facing towards Kelli's head. Bending down, the second Sanders folds and wraps Kelli's legs around her own right leg. “Your fans want to show their support,” Kristy says. She reaches down and grabs Kelli's arms. She yanks them back, pulling Kelli's body back and stretching her out painfully. Love does see the fans, though. And it's the first time she remembers ever hearing the FAWNatics chant for her. It feels… good. It feels strengthening.
“Just another room full of people you're gonna let down,” Sanders growls as she places a boot against the back of Kelli's head. SLAM! A brutal curb stomp crushes Kelli's face to the mat. Kristy doesn't release the hold, though – not immediately. First, she leans all her weight onto Kelli's head while grinding her face into the canvas. It feels good to crush someone so useless. She could probably just pin Kelli now but what fun is that?
Kristy grabs Kelli's ankles and drags her closer to a corner. She puts all her strength into a rib kick that rolls Love onto her back. Sanders leans over her prey. “Not done playing with you, Barbie Dull.” She turns and scampers up the turnbuckles to the top of the ring post. Kelli watches her, heaving and aching, but she can still hear the FAWNatics calling to her. She watches Kristy launch from the top of the post in a Frog Splash to this soundtrack. But instead of fear, as she's had so many times in the ring, or shame, one feeling fills Kelli – a desire to earn that love.
As Kristy takes flight, Kelli goes to bring up her feet.
The heels of Kelli’s boots PLOW into the chin of the plummeting Sanders, Kristy’s head snapping back and her body following suit a split-second behind in whiplash fashion. The back of the blonde’s skull connects HARD with the mat and Sanders Part Deux rolls around the canvas, cradling the rear of her head, finally coming to a stop a few feet from Love.
With the crowd egging the underdog on, Kelli kips to her feet, energized, adrenaline clearly pumping full bore. She thrusts a right fist at the fans and they don’t let Love down, responding with a roar and a “WE…LOVE…LOVE!” chant.
To the busty blonde’s side, Kristy pushes to vertical, her head no doubt still ringing from Love’s well-timed counter. The Real Deal staggers in a drunken loop, finally making her way back to a waiting Love who CRAAACKS a knife-edge chop across Kristy’s chest.
Reflexively, the FAWNatics ‘woo’ loudly and a grinning Love loads up and delivers another couple blistering chops for good measure, lighting up the wincing Kristy, Sanders knocked back to her heels.
Kelli rotates to go face to face with the cringing Kristy, a red streak emerging on the chest of Black Sheep. Apparently Love is ready to dig in a little deeper. Lifting both hands, she fashions her fingers into claws and CLAMPS THEM ON TO KRISTY’S BREASTS!
The increasingly confident Love revels in the thunderous approval from the FAWNatics as she squeezes her digits into Sanders’ bosom, kneading and twisting, Kristy howling as her fellow blonde pushes Sanders into the ropes where Kelli continues to work over the former IC champion. Finally, Kristy gets her palms up to Love’s shoulders and shoves her foe off. She slips her upper half under the top rope and demands the official keep the hyped Kelli away.
The man in stripes slips between the blondes and ushers Love a few feet back, the FAWNatics reveling in Kristy being the one who has to beg for a timeout.
As Kristy is slow to reenter, the crowd picks an up a new infuriating chant “KY-LEE’S BETTER!” Though the assembled are no longer any friend of Kristy’s cousin, they know how to rub Part Deux the wrong way and Sanders demands the fools keep their mouths shut.
When the chant morphs to “KELL-EE’S BETTER!” Kristy can take no more. She bends her way back into the ring and pushes the official aside with a right cross cocked for Love’s chin. But when Sanders tosses, the Nevada native is ready with a blocking left forearm. Kelli pops Sanders in the jaw with a right, Kristy’s head swinging in the opposite direction of the connection. A snarling Real Deal returns fire but again Kelli blocks and connects. With the third, Kristy is rocked and with the fourth the flaxen-haired hardbody pirouettes to her back, ending horizontal at Kelli’s feet.
Kristy shakes some cobwebs, massaging her jaw, seemingly unsure of how she ended with canvas to her back. She blinks her dark eyes wide, the roar of the crowd filling her auditory senses, unaware Kelli is moving to the nearest corner and is climbing to the top.
Reaching the penthouse, the curvy blonde turns and measures Sanders, the look on Love’s face at once one of contained incredulity but also burgeoning belief. Kelli launches HIGH into the Orlando sky above the splayed Sanders, spinning through 450 full degrees before SLAMMING down across Kristy’s open midriff with a Shooting Star Press. Love NAILS the veteran, tummy to tummy, Kristy bugeyed as she jackknifes around Kelli’s body.
As Sanders’ legs lower, Love snatches them and pulls Kristy into a double-leg cradle, the crowd chanting along with the ref’s slaps of the mat.
ONE…
TWO…
Kristy kicks her way free with the official’s hand coming down for the third time, the crowd groaning with disappointment at the upset being avoided. Sanders rolls to her chest and breathlessly drags her way toward the ropes. Kelli, having risen to boot leather, strides after the veteran, looking the rare hunter instead of her usual hunted.
Grabbing Kristy by the ankles, she flips Sanders to her back and drags her fellow blonde toward the middle of the ring. Love spreads the legs of the Black Sheep wide. Kristy raises both arms, palms extended toward Kelli, Sanders window-washing in a silent plea to stay away from her privates.
A grinning Love shakes her head. And while Kelli doesn’t lay the wood to Kristy’s crotch with a boot, she does vault into the air, legs extended. Landing within and above Sanders’ stems, she leg drops the inside of Kristy’s thighs. The Real Deal is in real pain, Kristy shooting up to a seated position as she grabs at her stretched groin muscles. Love punishes her hardbody foe with a right cross to the jaw that drops Sanders back to the mat in a daze, the crowd barely believing their eyes as Kelli starts to dominate.
Truthfully, Kelli barely believes it, either, but she's not about to question it. She gets to her feet, taking in all the FAWNatics at theirs as well, and pride swells. A little nagging voice, not dissimilar to a certain goth in her life, pipes up in her head. “You're not done with this until you're on top of a three count.” Still, even though she doesn't know Sanders personally, knowing her history – as well as the insults at the match's start – makes it hard to not want to punish her just a little more.
Kelli reaches down once more and grabs Kristy's legs and pulls them up and apart. The Black Sheep, coming out of a daze, realizes what's going on only too late as Kelli drops, forehead first, into Kristy's crotch. If Part Deux had any downs there were rocks in Kelli's skull before, the jarring agony of what feels like a boulder trying to give her a high impact gynecological exam dismisses it. Kristy's body shudders as she looks down. Kelli peers up at her, impishly, from between her legs and giggles. She gives the splayed out woman's thighs a pinch and says, “Y'know, if you had someone like me face down in your lap more often, you probably wouldn't be such an unpleasant bitch all the time.” Kelli gives Kristy an infuriating wink and blows a kiss, but all Sanders can do is fume.
Kelli rises and takes two fistfuls of mane to hoist her enemy up. The referee gives the standard warning and, while high on her sudden success, Kelli isn't so far up in the clouds she doesn't heed his warning. Kelli moves her clutch to Kristy's left arm and begins spinning her around and around, picking up speed, until releasing the limb and flinging the wayward Sanders cousin into a corner. Kristy slams into the turnbuckle, back first, but catches the middle rope before sliding to her butt. Kelli bolts towards the other blonde, doing a picture perfect handspring before slamming into Sanders with a corner splash. Kelli's generous meat shelf lands ring in Kristy's face and Love is sure to hold it there for a bit, giving a wiggle, before pulling back and letting Sanders drop to a seat against the bottom turnbuckle.
The agile bombsell jumps atop Sanders, her crotch slamming into Kristy's mouth, and begins a bronco buster. “I bet you and I would totally be friends outside the ring,” Kelli laughs as she paintbrushes her crotch into Part Deux's face. “Maybe we should go to a club sometime. I could show you how to have fun, how to dance.” Kelli slams down hard once more, ramming Kristy's head against the bottom turnbuckle, before dismounting. The referee begins his count but Kelli only turns and squats. “Like, I've just gotten into twerking. Tell me what you think!” And with that, Kelli begins to twerk her big, round butt into Kristy's nose like she's dribbling a basketball.
The fans are besides themselves at the mere sight. Cameras whip out to capture this moment. Hell, even the Gladiatrix photographer is all but climbing in the ring to snap it up. But the referee reaches the end of his count and snaps at Kelli for attention.
“C'mon, Love!” he rasps. “Let her out. The rules apply to you, too.”
Kelli gives one final buttslam before standing up and pouting. She starts to protest but she's cut off by two things: first, common sense. She knows he's right. Second? Pain. A lot of pain as Kristy Sanders, red-faced and just utterly done with Kelli's humiliation, Mario-punches up between Kelli's legs into her womanhood. It's a loud, wet slap of a fist and Kelli feels her stomach about to lurch upwards as she stumbles forwards and collapses to her knees. She holds herself, feeling the mat trembling as Kristy rises behind her. A boot lands between Kelli's shoulder blades, pushing her down to all fours.
“Familiar position, whore?” Sanders roars as she stomps Kelli down to her belly. Fans boo as FAWN's most hated cousin drops to a knee in the small of the former escort's back. Kelli tries to squirm away but she feels Kristy's vicelike grip on her wrists pulling her arms backwards. Sanders gets to her feet, standing on Kelli and yanking over and over like she's trying to pull the arms out of socket. Kelli tugs but she can't loosen the limbs. Desperate, Kelli starts kicking her left leg towards the ropes. Closer… closer….
But before Love can reach the safety of the cables, Kristy gives up the idea of dislocating the bimbo’s arms for a curbstomp. She places a boot behind Kelli’s skull and releases her grip on the wrists, THUMPING Love’s face into the canvas in brutal fashion. Kelli’s head bounces off the thinly-covered plywood, features twisted in pain.
An embarrassed Sanders scowls as she circles the curvy blonde who’s rolled to her back, covering her face with both hands. Kristy takes the opportunity to deliver a boot to her foe’s tanned midriff. Kelli collapses around the impact ‘guuuufing’ then rolling to her side so the Black Sheep cannot repeat the process.
“I’m an important part of FAWN,” Sanders shouts. “I’m an ex-champion,” she adds. “And more than you, I’m a wrestler.”
Kristy lands another stomp to Kelli’s nearly unavoidable breasts before reaching down to pluck Love off the canvas with a handful of hair. The powerful lightweight dips and scoops Kelli off the canvas but instead of rotating her to one shoulder, she keeps the squirming Love close across her chest. Grunting loudly, Sanders heaves the Nevada native overhead as she drops backward in a Fallaway Slam.
Fallaway Slam
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aRAE0XAx_mE )
Kelli’s body THWAPS against the canvas, landing harshly on her spine. She rolls several times from the momentum, coming to a stop beneath the bottom rope. A risen Kristy races to Love and delivers a dropkick to her near shoulder to deliver Kelli under and through, Love plopping to the floor outside.
Kristy pushes to her feet and raises her arms high and wide, taking credit for depositing the Nevada native on the outside looking in. The crowd is less enthused, giving Kylie’s cousin a loud round of boos to which Kristy seems unimpressed.
With Kelli rising, not totally aware of her surroundings and her closeness to the apron, Kristy dips through the cables and latches onto Love’s flaxen locks. She yanks a yelping Kelli up to the apron, but a quick-thinking Kelli reaches over her shoulder, wraps her arms around the back of Kristy’s noggin and drops to the floor. The move sends Sanders’ throat down across the top rope and she reels in a u-turn away from the strand, hotshotted to the opposite side of the ring, grasping at her throat.
Outside, Kelli discusses her brilliance with fans in the front row, pointing at her temple to let those in the back row know how smart she is. But while she does, a recovering Kristy, rubbing at the red stripe across her neck, gathers and sprints toward the ropes. Sanders sails through and NAILS the turning Kelli with a Suicide Dive, the Real Deal SLAMMING into Love and driving her against the steel of the barricade.
Love’s vertebrae THWACK against the metal and she slides down the barrier to pool in front of Sanders, Kristy on her knees. Never one to avoid fisticuffs when the option is available, Kristy batters the dazed Kelli with swabbing rights and lefts. Love picks off some with raised forearms, but a few make it through, leaving her in a more stupefied state.
With the count growing, Kristy rises, dragging Kelli to her feet, Love’s legs rubbery as she’s ‘guided’ to the apron with an Irish Whip, her backbone CRASHING into the apron’s edge. The curvy blonde howls in pain, her back arching from the anguish of the impact, leaving her proffered tummy an inviting target and Sanders delivers a raised knee. Kristy THUMPS it deep into the pit of Love’s belly.
Grabbing Love by a shoulder and the scruff of her foe’s neck, the Black Sheep spins and tosses Kelli back into the ring. The crowd is browbeaten by Sanders, some FAWNatics apparently feeling silly for having believed Love could beat a former champion.
Kristy follows her foe back in, popping to her feet with Love having made it to hands and knees. She ‘helps’ Kelli up the rest of the way and spins the bimbo so she’s faced away from her. Turning back to back with her foe, Sanders hooks elbows with her fellow blonde and ‘hups’ Love across her back as she leans forward.
With her bouncy backpack secured in place, the Black Sheep shifts her grip to one arm then sweeps one of her upper limbs across Kelli’s throat, ready to lay out and PLANT Love’s face and chest into the canvas with the Twin Cities Tumbler.
Twin Cities Tumbler
(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zUnS9XJdtxo ).
The brutal impact sends Kelli barrel rolling to her back, spreading out in a wide starfish. Kristy leaps atop her foe in a crossbody pin and hooks the far leg for a…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Love throws a shoulder off the canvas to the great relief and delight of the FAWNatics, even if it’s only to foil Sanders’ celebration for another three seconds.
Kristy Sanders is, to put it lightly, livid.
The Black Sheep slams a fist into Kelli's mouth, followed by a right cross. “No closed fists!” the ref demands but Sanders only smirks. “I'm just trying to help her save money on botox.” Kristy makes a sweeping gesture like presenting Kelli's body. “She obviously needs to save all the money she can 'cuz this wrestling thing is over for her.” The ref isn't swayed, so Sanders slugs Kelli once more before rising.
Kelli writhes on the mat, trying to push herself up. As Love pushes herself up to a sitting position, Kristy leans down and slowly rakes her nails down Love's back. “Just so we're clear, I'm going to make you suffer like no one has before,” Sanders says matter-of-factly as she leaves a trail of red scratches on Kelli's back. “It's only a matter of whether or not you want to get your humiliation over quickly or have it doubled.”
Had this offer been made to Kelli when she first joined FAWN, there's no doubt in anyone's mind she'd have submitted and be on hands and knees, begging for pity. But now, Kelli only spits back, “Go to hell, has-been!”
“Only to drop you off, never-was,” Sanders replies. She rips her nails further down and kicks Kelli across the back of the head for good measure. As Kelli slumps forward, Sanders saunters over towards a turnbuckle and scales it to the top of the ringpost. She points to Kelli, who is stumbling to her feed, and draws a finger across her own neck. Fans boo, and it seems to empower her. As Kelli stands, Kristy reminds everyone she's a hell of a highflyer but showing off a move not usually in her stable of attacks, but flawless nonetheless – a dragonrana!
DRAGANRANA:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=FYA7_lHBCNU
The execution is perfect. Kristy lands across Kelli's shoulders and neck, flips herself and her opponent backwards, and lands on top of Kelli in a pin. The ref falls to count and Kristy raises her arms in triumph.
ONE!
TWO!
THRE--
Kelli bucks out. She bucks hard enough to even dislodge Kristy from her body. Sanders looks like a catfish waiting for a hook to go into her mouth as she stares at the blonde shambles at her feet.
“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” Kristy shrieks. “Fine, fine. Bitch wants it the hard way, bitch gets it the hard way.” Kelli pushes herself up only to be met with a spinning kick to the ribs. Another goes across Kelli's jaw, sending her back into the ropes. The former escort's arms tangle over the top cable. Kristy stomps towards Kelli, seeming to study all the pain and exhaustion in Love's face. When the embattled woman looks up at Kristy, the Black Sheep overs a smile followed by a backhanded slap across the face. The ref scolds Kristy about attacking while Kelli's on the ropes, but Sanders shrugs. “She's a ho, just trying to make her feel at home.”
Sanders pulls Love from the ropes, parading her around the ring by her hair. But it's really past time to end all of this and get to the fun part of ending Kelli. Sanders Part Deux yanks Kelli towards a corner again, heaving Love up and shoving her into a seated position on the top turnbuckle, facing into the ring. “You're going to be the second whore whose wrestling career I've ended,” Kristy laughs in Kelli's face. “When you slink back to the streetcorner, tell Holly I said hello.” Kelli is dazed, and hurt, but the hate in her eyes is genuine and, to Kristy, delicious. Sanders backs up, runs up the ropes, and kicks her legs behind Kelli's head to knock her off the turnbuckle and bulldog her down to the mat for the Black Sheep's feared finisher, the Kristy Krusher!
Kelli, however, has other plans.
As Kristy bounds up the ropes, Kelli reaches down behind the turnbuckle, grabs her ankles, and pulls them up. Flopping forward, Kelli falls down and slams into the middle turnbuckle – which isn't fun – but it's more fun that Kristy has as her leg soars through the air that once contained Kelli's noggin. As Kristy slams to the mat, Kelli flips off the turnbuckles and lands on her feet. Kristy hops to her feet and spins around but only to catch a lariat across the throat. Kristy lands on her ass but is almost immediately up again. And this time, Kelli slams a superkick into her jaw. The fans rise as the Black Sheep is laid out.
But Sanders is far from out. The ring vet rolls away Kelli drops a leg for Kristy's throat. Both women hop up. Kelli rushes Kristy but Sanders sidesteps and trips Kelli like a schoolyard bully. Kelli catches herself with her hands. As Kristy steps behind her to grab legs, Love raises her lower half and slams both boots into Kristy's gut. As Sanders bows and clutches the blow, Love is up and racing towards the ropes. The Nevada bombshell whips herself off them runs at Sanders and grabs onto her head for a spinning neckbreaker!
SPINNING NECKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gu8fF2xiQEw
Kelli drapes herself across Kristy in a grapevine, positioning herself just right to lay her rack across Kristy's face for an added smother.
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Kristy bucks out. Kelli is undeterred. She wraps an arm around the back of Kristy's head, securing her face in its juggy prison, while standing them both up. Kelli decides to repay a few of the face shots from earlier with some slugs to Kristy's belly, but again the ref warns about closed fists and Kelli is too much of a good girl to argue with him. Sanders doesn't have such compunctions, though, and grabs a fistful of hair, ripping Kelli's head back as she punches back to Kelli's stomach. More importantly, Kristy frees herself from the smother, pulling in air. The oil and sweat on Kristy's face only accentuate how utterly furious she is.
Despite the referee's protests, Kristy belts Kelli once more slinging her to the ropes. Sanders shoves a boot up to catch the bimbo, but Kelli leaps it – and lands across Kristy's neck, yanking her backwards for a Frankensteiner!
FRANKENSTEINER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=5yGf8n3rpc0
Kristy spills across the mat but shoves herself up. Kelli is also up, but runs to the ropes. As Part Deux closes in, Kelli races up the cables to the top rope and spins off it, landing a flying superkick across Kristy's temple. The fans draw in horrified breath at the sound of the kick, which spirals Kristy before slumping her to her knees. Love runs up behind Kristy, pulling her up to her feet by her waist, before once more whipping herself off the ropes in front of the Black Sheep. On her return trip, Kelli launches onto Kristy for her finisher, Love-Struck!
LOVE-STRUCK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=352jrqIWSFY
Kristy's body splats to the mat. Kelly grabs a handful of blonde tresses and yanks Kristy's head up, shoving it back into her cleavage. The fans cheer as Kelli wraps her arms around Kristy's head, burying her deep, and holding her there for a bit before laying down on top of her in another grapevine/smother combo. The referee falls to count.
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!
Kelli waits for Kristy to buck out, not even realizing the bell's rung, so she continues to hold the smother. When it finally dawns on her, Kelli looks up in shock. The referee bends down.
“Kelli, you won!” he yells.
“I won?” Kelli asks.
“You won!” he repeats.
“I won!” Kelli chirps.
“So break the smother!” the referee adds.
“Oh, crap!” Kelli launches off Kristy, who is now somewhere between the waking world and a cleavagey purgatory. The referee raises Kelli's arm as the announcer comes to life.
“Ladies and gentlemen, your winner – by pinfall – KELLI LOOOOOOOVE!”
Tears well up in Kelli's eyes as the FAWNatices cheer her on. Being on this side of a victory in FAWN feels good. It feels like nothing knock her off her pedestal. Then, from the corner of her eye, Kelli sees something moving towards her and fast. A sneak attack?! Kelli feels panic as she turns towards whoever it is.
Trixie launches onto Kelli, wrapping arms around her neck and legs around her waist for a deadly hug and cheek kiss combo! “You did it! I told you that you could!” Trixie beams, almost to the point of tears herself for her friend. “See! I told you! Remember? I've been telling you ever since--”
Kelli hugs her friend back tightly before setting the goth down on the canvas. Trixie raises Kelli's arm. It may not be a belt match and Kelli may not be a top draw, but for the blonde it feels like it. The attendees are all too happy to lavish the praise.
Then, in the front row, someone screams, “Strip her! Strip Kristy!”
Kelli blushes. “Oh, I couldn't--”
“She'd do it to you,” Trixie shoots back. “She's done it to others. That's part of the game around here and she knows it.”
“That doesn't mean I have to do it,” Kelli says defiantly.
Trixie reaches into her own bra and fishes around. “Fine, but I know something you do wanna do.” Trixie pulls out a tube of pink lipstick. Kelli's favorite brand and color, too. Perfectly Pink Pucker. Love's eyes brighten at the sight. She offers a slightly mischievous giggle.
“Well, I mean, I should do -something-, right?” Kelli says as she takes the tube. Kelli applies a generous line of lipstick to her lips before turning to wear Kristy is laid out. Trixie ushers over Gladiatrix photographers while Kelli sits astride Sander's belly. She leans down to give her a big kiss on the lips. Pulling back, Kristy's lips are now bright pink. Kelli plants another kiss on her cheek, leaving another set of prints, and then moves down to Kristy's heaving bosom. Kelli places the lipstick to Kristy's chest and begins to write, “You were Loved! XOXO – Kelli!” She places another kiss on Kristy's breast before rising.
“Not even gonna pull her top down a little?” Trixie asks.
Kelli doesn't answer. Instead, she climbs from the ring with her friend and walks up the aisle. Kelli sees a pretty young woman in the fans holding something she's rarely seen, a sign for Kelli. “I LOVE LOVE!” it says. Kelli leans across the barrier, pecks the young woman's forehead and pushes the lipstick tube into her palm. The two vanish behind the curtain, and the only sound louder than the fans is Kelli's sudden, excited squeal as her first victory in FAWN truly sets in.