Post by dsb on Dec 31, 2017 18:24:40 GMT
The catchy groove of "Exotic” by Priyanka Chopra and Pitbull heralded the latest contender to the Superlative Soprano’s World Title reign. The FAWNatics turned as one, giving the former Eurasian titleholder everything and more of what she deserved. They let loose with a deafening round of jeers and catcalls toward the inevitable arrival of the Golden Empress.
EXOTIC:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=sPhhZg9v9NU
The curtains parted, revealing a set of musclebound men, clad in gold loin clothes and sandals. The FAWNiverse immediately let everyone know how much they despised the despicable challenger.
These silent manservants carried an ornate bed, where upon the Bollywood Bombshell reclined. As the ‘exotic’ grappler was carried toward the ring on the curious conveyance, the FAWNatics greeted her with boos.
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.
AMARA SINGH:
The announcer confirmed the arrival of India’s greatest export.
"Our final match of the evening is scheduled for one fall with a sixty minute time limit and is for the FAWN World Championship. Introducing first, hailing from Cawnpore, India, she stands at five feet six inches tall and weighs in tonight at one hundred and thirty-three pounds, she is the Golden Empress… AMARA SINGH!”
The spectacle halted, 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 challenger faced the crowd, proceeding to dance seductively to the remainder of her anthem. Eventually Singh slid from beneath a sparkling gold robe to reveal the curvy form beneath.
The momentary striptease drew a round of rabid applause within the jeers, Singh dropping a pearly sneer upon the peasants. She turned away and moved through the ropes, taking her rightful center stage.
Amara was clad in an ornately designed, gold bra and matching gold and red, lacy harem pants, her feet bare. Her raven tresses fell down to just past her shoulders in wild waves, dark copper skin glowing under the lights. Singh did one last twirl for the crowd before raising a microphone to her full rosy lips.
“Ruling two continents was simply below an Empress,” Amara hissed. “I made the most of that title, but I deserve and shall soon possess so much more!”
As the crowd continued to let Singh know of their displeasure, Amara tossed the microphone aside and headed for her corner, dark eyes trained on the nearing entrance of the woman she’d make a former champion and what’s more, her bytch.
While Amara scowled over her wait, the FAWNatics roared to attention when the house lights dimmed. The lowered illumination led to the requisite hoots and hollers from the excited throng. A white-hot spotlight broke the darkness and fell upon the stage and a lean, lithe brunette with a glittering gold-plated belt around her waist strode gracefully into view.
The dangerous diva, having survived a perilous inquisition from the bringer of Eternal Midnight, reveled in an ovation worthy of Pavarotti. The PA was quick to announce the dark-haired grappler’s arrival before she began her breathtaking warbling.
“And introducing her opponent! Hailing from London, England! She stands at five feet eight inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and twenty two pounds. She is the Renaissance Woman, the Superlative Soprano and the reigning and defending FAWN World Champion, ladies and gentlemen I give to you… ELIZA BLISSSSSS!”
ELIZA BLISS:
A sweet melodious set of notes reach to the heights, the highest high of soprano superlatives could only hint at the beauty of the operatic ecstasy.
Eliza, her arms raised, serenaded the crowd with her own entrance accompaniment, no one else able to reach the perfect notes of sweet rapture.
The long locks of the sinewy brunette fell in great cascades, Bliss clad in a lacy black one-piece that clung tightly to her lightly tanned form; her signature metallic wristbands, banned per complaints from recent challengers, were missing for the first time. Below, she wore tempting, knee-high black leather boots. The Englishwoman strode down the aisle belting out the concluding aria of Giulio Cesare, the opera that had made her famous or infamous, depending on fan or foe.
Between, FAWN’s grand prize was strapped snug around her waist.
Eliza’s singles’ career ascendant, the reigning World Champion was glorious, her vocal chords providing instant ecstasy as had the Summer, Fall and now Winter of Bliss.
The Songbird strode to the ring, waving and smiling. She finished her beautiful verse and slapped hands with those lucky enough to be on the aisle.
Reaching the squared circle, Eliza went on a circuit, making contact with the crowd, particularly pleased with a placard that noted “The wondrous warbler will make Singh sing a sad song.”
It wasn’t the best she’d ever seen, but Bliss gave the holder a thumbs up for effort.
The radiant brunette raised her microphone as she proceeded on her tour.
“Amara! You may have been A champion, but you’ll never be THE champion” Eliza informed. “Wallow in the sorrowful dirge that comes with being second best.”
Eliza unhooked her belt and held it aloft, making sure the Indian got a closer look.
The sinewy soprano handed over the stick and the gold then skipped up the ring steps, dipped through the ropes and, keeping an eye peeled for any attacks from the Empress, floated to her corner.
Reaching home base, Eliza stretched her limbs to match the exercise already given her vocal chords then turned and settled into an expectant crouch, waiting for the bell that would bring another onslaught from the cream of FAWN’s crop.
Eliza was out of her corner with the CLANG of the bell, her confidence clearly at an all time high following back to back victories over the likes of Burlingame and Wainright. Amara strode forth as well, and though the challenger exuded confidence as well, there was also an undercurrent of anger not usually present in Singh’s posture. Either unaware or unintimidated by this simmering threat, Blissy raised both hands to shoulder level and treated Amara to a ‘prepare yourself’ sort of nod before she lunged forward and-- CRAAACK!
Singh smacked the taste of the champ’s mouth, a genuine Bollywood Bytch Slap that spun Eliza in a half circle before she managed to catch her balance.
Or not.
Jeers from all sides when Amara put a boot against the Englishwoman’s tush and pushed, the force and abruptness of it dropping Eliza to all fours. “Pathetic!” Singh sniffed as she circled around to meet the penitent champ head on. “That fact that a whelp like you would dare to accost me in this ring, as a World Champion no less, is a scathing indictment of FAWN’s golden circle ever since the Eurasian title was stolen by that rasping haGUUUFFFHH!”
The Renaissance Woman reared back on her knees and PAK-PAK-PAAAKED a trio of straight rights into Amara’s bronzed midsection. Delighted by the simple percussion of knuckles on belly, Eliza caught hold of the other woman’s hip and reared back for a Headbutt only to shriek in agony when Singh raaaaaaaaaaked her across the eyes!
“Keep off her eyes, Amara!” Castle barked at once. “Don’t make me tell you again!”
The Bombshell didn’t even bother with a reply, she’d already filled her hands with Eliza’s hair, all the better to yank her noggin back n’ forth. This punishment went on until the official reached ‘THREE!’ on a count Singh thought far too quick, yet she abided by it only because it gave her the excuse to drop to one knee and thus THWHUNK Bliss’s forehead into the mat with a truncated Facebuster! Eliza hit hard and started to roll onto her back, a trip cut rudely short when Amara doubled down on the hair-hold.
“Is this what the World Championship has come to?” she taunted amidst a hard round of brutal cheek on canvas scrubbing. “Nothing more than a prop for this warbling, whey-faced washerwoman?!” Bliss clawed and smacked at her attacker’s forearms, alas it again fell to Nick Castle to free her from the former actress’s cruel clutches. Raising her hands to shoulder level simultaneous with the ref’s ‘FOUR!’ Singh made a show of clapping some dark hairs from her palms as she got to her feet.
“Go to her hair again and the count will only get faster, Amara.” Castle warned. “Go ahead and see if I’m bluffing.”
The challenger paused mid-reach, thought about it for a moment, then cupped the Briton’s ears in each hand. “Your bias is as disgusting as it is blatant.” she sneered after hauling Blissy to a slumped seat. “Not that it will be enough to save this filthy little imitation champion.” Eager to emphasize this threatening prophecy, Amara swung into position on Eliza’s left side, Singh using her right hand to the other brunette’s head in place until she thrust her hips back and down, a Bollywood Butt Bump that THWHAPPED against the side of her opponent’s skull. Hardly a match ender, yet quite disorienting, as Bliss only tugged at her attacker’s wrist when Singh palmed her noggin and transformed her early matinee into a disrespectful double feature.
BOLLYWOOD DOUBLE FEATURE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=YcAuzQS0HFU
Eliza ‘uuunnnnggghhed’ and tried to create some separation but Amara buried a hand in her hair, glaring daggers at Castle the whole time. Swaying her hips in direct defiance of the zebra’s count, Singh kept up the Harem Shake until ‘FOUR’, when she unleashed the third Butt Bump in less than a min-NO! The Songbird hooked an arm between the challenger’s sturdy stems and pulled away from the impact while simultaneously using Amara’s own momentum to stack her up on her shoulders with a Schoolboy good for…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
Amara wriggled to one side, breaking the count with half a second to spare. Galled at the prospect of another English chambermaid stealing a victory at her expense, Singh scrambled to her feet and promptly fired one straight at Bliss’s nose! Her aim was true but her reach proved short, as the Songbird snatched hold of her ankle to stop the strike barely an inch shy of her nose. Safe for the moment, Eliza rose to her full height with Amara’s boot firmly in her possession.
“Amara my dear, there’s something I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time.” Bliss admitted as she tugged the challenger’s captured ankle back n’ forth. “Having made it a point to sit through your entire cinematic oeuvre in preparation for this match, I can safely say the only thing worse than your acting is your singing. Really, it astounds me that someone with as much presence between these ropes can vanish so completely the instant a director calls--”
She would’ve said ‘action’ if Amara hadn’t leapt off her plant foot and flicked an Enzugiri at the side of her opponent’s skull. But that was just the sort of reaction Bliss had expected and so she ducked low, leaving Singh’s counter to sail harmlessly overhead en route to dropping the challenger flat on her face. Amara bounced to her knees at once, though at the moment her thoughts were focused on the alignment of her nose rather than the position of the FAWN World Champion. This lull in defense cost her dearly when Eliza ran the ropes on her six and came back with a full head of steam. Helping herself to a vengeful handful of hair as she passed by, Bliss hopped up and came down on her butt, all the better to THWHONK Amara’s face against the deck.
BASEMENT BULLDOG:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=oGH0YNvi-YU
Singh’s inspection started all over again, the scope widened to include her lips and brow. This perusal turned up no significant damage which was good, but it also meant she was quite preoccupied when Eliza strode over and helped herself to the challenger’s dark tresses. “Hair! HAIR!” Amara had no problem shouting to Castle for assistance and Nick had no trouble ignoring, especially when Bliss segued into a perfectly legal Side Headlock immediately thereafter.
“Don’t make it a habit, Eliza.” Nick indicated the hair even as the champ ground Singh’s temple against the point of one hip.
“What, this?” Blissy ran her right hand through Amara’s hair and treated it to a single sharp pull. “I wouldn’t dream of it, good sir.”
As a show of good faith she twisted into the challenger and slung her up n’ over, Eliza displaying flawless fundamentals with the Headlock Takedown. Floating over the burbling Bombshell the instant she touched down, Eliza planted on her palms and threaded Amara’s noggin between her thighs, the Briton hooking her left shin into the pit of her right knee to secure a suspended version of the standard Figure Four Headscissors.
HEADLOCK TAKEDOWN & HEADSCISSORS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=PS5Q3rs8-Ww
Brought back to reality by the sound of blood pulsing in her ears, Singh sat up as best she could and quickly set to work clawing her way out of “UUUUNNNNGGGHH!”
Eliza squeezed harder and Amara slopped to her back, the challenger momentarily reduced to hapless wriggling. “You’ll pay a high price for slapping me, Understudy!” Bliss let her own arrogance shine forth as she made Singh suffer. “Those reviews from Mumbai won’t be half as heartless as the punishment I inflict for daring to intrude upon MY stage.”
With that Eliza started her show in earnest, the Songbird busting out a perfect set of push-ups for the fitness freaks while simultaneously going through a few scales for the more musically inclined in attendance. Whatever their preference, the FAWNatics soon united in a ‘TAP!’ chant that had Eliza beaming and Amara fuming through her already scant supply of oxygen.
Singh grunted, trying desperately and fruitlessly to pry her head loose from the tightening Scissors as she continued to be embarrassed by the title-holding Songbird. At least the recent mess in Mumbai with Lenore hadn’t broken into the media. This display was live and worldwide and the exotique couldn’t free herself. Blissy got a full ten-spot, delighting in her domination but a little limb-weary on both ends. She released her Scissors, pushed to her feet and shook out all four ivory-skinned appendages as she circled the splayed Indian.
With Amara chest-and-facedown, Eliza slid to a knee at her foe’s side and corralled the near leg of the Bollywood Bombshell. Wrapping her arms around Singh’s ankle and shin, Bliss rotated to a kneeling, forward-facing straddle of the challenger. Pressing the captured leg forward in an ever-growing arch until the sole of Amara’s boot nearly touched her ebony locks, Eliza had her body pin the limb in place so she had both hands available to strap on her version of a Singh favorite, the Camel Clutch.
LEG HOOK CAMEL CLUTCH:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=xPQsU4hiHxs
Now the Indian grappler was curled in another direction, her back arched, face pointed to the rafters from the grip of the growling diva. Amara’s perfect pearlies ground in pain as again the delighted FAWNatics tempted her to tap with an taunting chant. Amara was able to slip a hand back far enough to find Eliza’s dark locks and tugged as best she could. It’s enough to convince Eliza to release her captor, who then sank both sets of nails into Amara’s scalp and SLAMMED her foe’s face into the thinly-sheathed plywood.
Singh’s flawless features bounced off the deck and her gaze quickly transitioned from anguished to dazed. Eliza rose to vertical and hovered, raising her arms high and wide to elicit another roaring ovation. Bliss slipped stealthily into Amara’s six as the broken Bombshell, perhaps now realizing the Brit had blossomed into a sublime singles threat, struggled to find her equilibrium.
With Singh in an unsteady stance, the soprano grabbed a shoulder of her foe and turned the challenger to face her. She wrapped an arm over the back of Amara’s neck and slipped her head under the opposite arm of the beauty from the subcontinent. Showing strength to spare, the Songbird launched Amara into the air over her shoulder, giving her a half-spin for good measure so she could snatch the noggin of the former Eurasian champ and SPLATTER her into the canvas with an Inverted Suplex Cutter.
INVERTED SUPLEX CUTTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=OtvaXqCp-TU
The hellacious impact sent Amara sprawling to her back and Eliza wasn’t about to waste this golden opportunity. She dove atop the demolished Singh in a full body pin, forcing her rival’s shoulders down while capturing the Indian’s arms above her head at the wrists. Nick slid next to champ and challenger and counted out the…
ONE…
TWO…
Amara pushed a shoulder up if less than convincingly. But it’s enough for Castle to hold only two fingers aloft and Bliss, pushed up to all fours, nodded in agreement. Sinking her nails into Amara lush raven locks, Bliss pulled up the wobbling head of the Bombshell and DROVE a Forearm Shiver into her jaw, snapping Singh’s head back, the base of the challenger’s skull THUNKING against the deck.
“Enjoying this domination? It’s my special aria just for you,” Eliza tittered into Singh’s blank stare. “I call it Ode to a Tarnished Empress.”
Sliding and pivoting alongside Singh’s frame, Eliza mounted her foe in a backward-facing, kneeling straddle before thrusting her bum down into the bronzed chest of the Indian grappler, forcing a burst of breath from Amara. Slowly, as the crowd beeped in elation, Blissy backed dat ass up toward her signature Contralto, a Reverse Face Sit and Belly Claw combination that had brought many a roster member to their end.
But before Eliza could get fully situated, Amara sank her nails into Eliza’s alabaster skin just south of each armpit and draaaaaaaagged them down to each hip. Bliss’s body straightened and froze as she shrieked in perfect pitch. The champ leapt to her feet and scurried a few steps away, her head pivoting one way then the other to review the damage. Long pink then red welt lines emerged on the ivory skin as Amara managed to reach a seat and try to blink her eyes to something approaching clarity.
Not ready to relinquish control, Eliza raced back at her foe, loading up a Soccer Kick at Singh’s chest, the target beckoning the British Blackbird. But when she swung the pendulum toward the Empress, Amara dropped under and let it sway overhead. Grabbing the planted lower limb, Singh RIPPED the Songbird off her base, Eliza falling to her chin and chest.
Dark eyes wide and glassy, Eliza shook off the impact as Singh sat back up and spun to find Bliss. The Bollywood Bombshell pushed to her feet and dropped a knee into Blissy’s tailbone. Eliza yelped back to awareness, both hands racing to her behind where a genuflecting Amara grabbed each wrist in a palm and rose to vertical. She lifted a boot and placed the sole against the back of Eliza’s braincase then wrenched on the wrists to lift Eliza’s face high off the canvas
Bliss shook her head, blurting out a staccato burst of ‘no, no, no’, but Singh said ‘YES’ with an emphatic Curbstomp that PLANTED the Songbird’s beak into the mat, the Empress placing a period at the end of the champion’s fun run.
Singh staggered away from the violent collision, regaining her balance after attempting to rearrange Eliza’s features. Bliss rolled to her back, hands pressed against her face. She finally drew them away, fury in her dark eyes, only to realize Amara was on the way down with an Elbow Drop aimed square between the diva’s peepers that connected with a sickening thud.
Eliza screamed in pain, body flopping and twitching, palms again flying to her mug.
“You won’t be able to show that doorstop of a face when I’m done,” the Empress assured.
Having risen, she drilled a boot into Blissy’s bosom and another and another, until Eliza’s defenses dropped the tiniest bit then Amara BANGED one into the champ’s forehead, again rattling her foe’s noggin, seemingly determined to provide Blissy’s make-up artist with steady work in making her presentable for any promos in the near future.
Moving to a standing reverse straddle of the splayed Eliza’s head, Amara threw her legs out in front of her and dropped Indian booty toward Blissy’s face for an explosive beginning to what surely would be a Bollywood Ending. Thankfully for the FAWNatics, Bliss was able to press her palms to the canvas and push her head from under the generous backside of the Bombshell.
Amara reached for her own aching tailbone, face twisted in pain as Eliza staggered to her feet. She wobbled her way to the ropes, throwing her back into them to rebound for an attack on the challenger. But only a few steps from the cables, Eliza was nearly split in half by a vicious Spear from the risen Singh, Amara jackknifing the frame of the soprano around her delving shoulder then PLANTING Bliss into the deck and landing heavily atop her foe, sandwiching the blasted Brit.
Singh remained aboard the motionless Songbird for…
ONE…
TWO…
The Spear was pure A-List, however the cover was not, Amara’s failure to hook a leg coming back to haunt her when Bliss twisted onto her belly with half a second to spare. Snarling her disgusted for the silenced Soprano, Singh curled her fingers into hooks and ran them from shoulders to buttocks, the challenger making sure Blissy’s bum suffered a particularly painful finishing flourish. Eliza wailed pitiably, tried to barrel roll to safety but Amara would have none of it. She caught the Englishwoman by trunks and tresses, the Bollywood Bombshell using a callous wedgie to ensure the champ stayed facedown on the deck.
Admire the floor of this grand stage while you can, you little urchin!” Singh sneered after she’d rose to her full height. “Because you’re going to clean every inch of it with your tongue once the title is around my waist!”
The opera aficionados didn’t like this prophecy one bit and they let Singh hear it with a hearty chorus of jeers, alas, their disdain wasn’t enough to keep Amara from leaving the canvas in a high vertical leap, then stretching out and coming down with all her weight THWHUMPING across the small of Bliss’s back. No halfhearted cover this time around, Singh shot the Half Nelson at once, bulled Eliza onto her back and hooked the far leg tight enough to bring the Brit’s knee within a whisper of her chin. Beside them, Castle swooped in to count…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
The Songbird proved herself resilient, shoving Amara’s encroaching bod away with enough authority to raise a sneer from the deposed Empress. “Struggle and squirm all you want, washerwoman.” Singh taunted the champ in the midst of peeling her off the deck. “But when all is said and done, your World Championship reign will end with far less fanfare than your wretched operas.” Eliza hadn’t the energy to defend herself, let alone her former career, thus Amara was treated to blessed silence when she clamped down on the champ’s right wrist and hurled her into the strands with an Irish--NO! Singh dug in her heels, reeled Bliss back the way she’d come and went low, all the better to cinch her prey around the thighs and pop up on tiptoes. It was a surprisingly dainty movement, one highlighted even more by a FAWN photog that snapped a shot just as Singh shifted all her weight to her right foot. There was nothing delicate about what came next, the former actress spinning in a brutal half circle and dropping to her knees to THAWHAM Bliss into the thinly-sheathed plywood with a gorgeous Spinebuster!
SPINEBUSTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=pBbhDP3tNVo
Jamming her shoulders into the pits of Eliza’s knees when the Englishwoman’s legs jolted into the air, Amara bulled forward, roughly stacking her prey on her shoulders for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
A relieved roar from the Blissful Choir when their heroine slopped loose with a heartbeat to spare. “This is foolish, Castle!” Amara barked at the referee when he answered her three fingers with two. “Stringing this wastrel along doesn’t make her reign any less tragic! It only delays my inevitable ascension!”
“Looks to me like you’ve got her right where you want her, Amara.” Nick replied from a safe distance. “So don’t let me stop you. You want to ascend? Ascend!”
The former Eurasian Champ didn’t much care for the man’s tone, but arguing with him was a waste of breath and punishing Bliss was a breath of fresh air. To that end she scraped the reeling Renaissance Woman off the deck and promptly jabbed a Headbutt between her eyes. Already rubbery, Eliza’s legs almost gave out, meaning Singh had no trouble leading Eliza over to the ropes facing the hard camera. Snuggled in behind her foe, Amara wedged her head under Eliza’s left arm, slapped on a half Waistlock and grabbed a handful of kneepad for extra leverage. From there she muscled Bliss up, but rather than dump her on the back of her head with a Backdrop Suplex, she moved forward and forced the other brunette into a woozy seat on the middle strand.
“And now, brat.” Amara grabbed Bliss by the scruff of the neck and gave her a nasty little shake. “It’s time you learned the power of a real champion!”
With that she crooked her other arm into a ‘V’ and unleashed a Forearm Flurry worthy of the alley behind the Slaughtered Lamb, Singh just SMASHING away at her target’s neck, shoulders and lower back. Give him credit, Castle allowed Amara plenty of time to work, but when he’d passed an internal ‘FIVE’ with no sign of slowing from the challenger, the ref stepped in and said, “Get her off the ropes, Amara! Now!” He’d expected Singh to force a count, so imagine his surprise when she cupped both hands over Bliss’s chin, hopped into the air and wedged both knees against the Briton’s exposed back! THAWHUMP! Singh dropped backward and brought Eliza with her, Bliss’s lovely lungs treated to some severe trauma courtesy of Amara’s Bollywood Blowout. Quick to draaaaaaaag her opponent away from the ropes, Singh delivered herself across Bliss’s bosom in a miniature Splash, then hooked the far leg for…
BOLLYWOOD BLOWOUT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZH1oVoA7oEY
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
Eliza powered free again and this time Singh couldn’t contain her anger. “STOP CODDLING THIS IDIOT, CASTLE!” the Empress bellowed at the black & white. “I’VE PINNED HER THREE TIMES NOW AND IF I HAVE TO DO IT AGAIN SHE’LL LEAVE IN AN AMBULANCE!”
Nick didn’t bat an eye, though the enraged challenger was literally screaming in his face. When she was done, he said, “Perhaps instead of wasting all this energy on me you should try to keep the champion from rolling out of the ring to collect herself?”
Amara whirled around, cursed violently when she saw Bliss easing under the bottom rope to the apron. “Don’t you dare run from me, little girl.” Singh growled as she backed into the ropes on the opposite side of the ring. “Running only ensures you’ll die tired.”
On that pleasant note she exploded out of the strands and loped across the ring, the Golden Empress lowering a shoulder just as Bliss pulled herself up and-- ‘OOOOOHHHHHH!’ The Superlative Soprano spun aside in the nick of time, leaving Amara to fly through the gap between middle and top strand with a Spear that cut nothing but air! Now, Amara Singh was a villainess par excellence, yet even she got a round of sympathetic groans when she plummeted through the aether en route to a brutal facedown landing mere inches from the steel guardrail.
Back on the apron, Eliza hooked an arm over the top rope and kept a watchful eye on the devastated challenger as she tried to steady her breathing. Understandably concerned about Amara’s condition, Castle started through the ropes, then stopped when he saw Singh grab hold of the barricade. She hauled herself to one knee a moment later, so the ref slipped back inside and started to count. He’d reached the halfway point when Amara pushed off one knee and rounded on the ring in search of the cowardly crow that’d “UUUUUNNNNNNNGGGGHHHH!”
Eliza came down on her like a Valkyrie, the enraged brunette hooking her hands behind Singh’s neck even as she jammed a knee against her chin. The drop from apron to padded cement floor wasn’t pleasant for the champ’s already damaged back, yet she endured with a smile because the force of her Sheer Bliss turned the Bombshell inside out, Singh exploding into an involuntary somersault that left her stretched out flat on her belly.
In no mood to get counted out against this bloviating pretender, Eliza filled one hand with Amara’s hair, the other with her waistband and muscled her up just high enough to roll the other brunette under the bottom rope. Bliss put a knee on the apron and almost went through before pulling back and heading for the corner instead. Claiming the top turnbuckle as her own after a short climb, the Superlative Soprano stretched her arms wide and offered the FAWNatics a glorious high note to remind them that all was right with the universe. From there she leapt out into the void, Eliza curling her whole body into a high velocity ‘V’ all the better to THWHUMP the point of one elbow between Singh’s defenseless breasts! Amara jolted like she’d been touched by a live wire, but her shoulders were nice and flat when Bliss hooked both legs and folded her in half for…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Singh’s body spasmed and she broke free of her bondage, ending on her side, flawless features twisted in pain.
The Superlative Soprano took a glance at Castle. The man held up two fingers then used them to show how close his hand was from the mat for the third slap. Bliss nodded and sank a set of nails into Amara’s scalp. She forced the Bollywood Bombshell’s features flat to the canvas and scrubbed it against the abrasive canvas, giving Singh a facewash, lest people forget the diva could get nasty when so inclined.
Eliza pulled the Empress’s head FAR back with the grip on her ebony locks, enough so Singh’s bosom was off the canvas, and SLAMMED Amara’s face into the deck, the Indian grappler’s noggin bouncing off the thinly-covered plywood.
Singh rolled to her back, hands slowly rising to her face, Amara’s dark eyes glassy as she pressed both sets of fingers against her nose. Bliss knelt nearby.
“You were able to hang onto a couple continents for a while,” Eliza admitted, “but this is the WORLD we’re talking about now. Don’t even try to think you’re ready for that kind of performance.”
Eliza pushed to her feet as a snorting Singh rolled to her chest, apparently in preparation of rising herself. The Songbird wasn’t interested in finding out if the Empress was ready. Bliss snatched Amara’s near ankle between both hands and forearms and used those limbs to lock in her Fortissimo!
FORTISSIMO!
www.youtube.com/watch?v=bxYn9hqTFsc
Eliza twisted the joint like she’s trying to unscrew Amara’s foot from her shin, sending Singh’s foot pointing in an awful angle. The Empress howled in agony, grasping at her raven locks and tugging to try and spread the pain. Castle wasn’t convinced it could be done in sufficient measure and he lowered to a knee next to the grappler from the subcontinent.
“Let me know, Amara. Let me know if you’ve had it.”
Amara removed her hands from her follicles to took a swipe at Castle and she locked onto his ankle. Aghast at becoming a part of the match instead of adjudicating it, Castle started to back away from the fighters, but Singh was clamped on tight and, when he did, he dragged Amara several feet in a left turn. Realizing she’s close to the ropes, the Bombshell exchanged her grip to the bottom rope and screamed for release.
Knowing he’s been used, Castle could do little but shrug a silent apology at a peeved Bliss and tell the diva she had to break the hold. Eliza growled and did as she’s told, but only by lifting the leg high and THUMPING Singh’s knee into the mat. Singh yelped and pulled the aching limb close, cradling it with one arm, while she held on to the rope for dear life with the other.
The champion moved back a few steps from her foe at Castle’s urging but remained on the balls of her feet as Amara rose. The Indian grappler got halfway up before she threw her body through the ropes and landed on her knees on the outside with a wince. The maneuver prompted Bliss to close on the challenger so Singh couldn’t get away unscathed.
Reaching over the top strand and sinking her nails into the ebony locks of the Empress, Blissy tugged Singh to her feet. No doubt expecting Amara to wrap her palms around the back of her head and hotshot her, Eliza beat the challenger to the punch, shifting her hands in that direction. But before she could drop to the mat and send Singh flying to the floor, the talons of the Empress flew to the baby browns of the slender soprano and rake across them.
Eliza shrieked in pain, letting loose of Amara and stumbling blindly away, an arm thrust outward, palm reaching for anything that might be in front of her. The sightless Songbird flailed all the way to a corner on the opposite side of the ring while the exotique from Asia reenters and stalked her injured prey.
With Bliss leaning deep into the buckles, facing outward, rubbing fitfully at her eyes, Amara gathered a little momentum with a crow hop and blasted her way into the corner, NAILING Blissy’s mug with a leaping Forearm Smash. Eliza’s rocked by the impact but kept her feet.
Singh snatched her by the scruff of the neck and spun her outward, the challenger taking Eliza’s place with her back to the buckles. Singh climbed to the middle ropes so her crotch was directly in front of the widely blinking peepers of the diva. Amara leapt off her perch and rode Bliss to the deck, SLAMMING her ass down with the soprano’s chest sandwiched tightly between booty and canvas, a huge burst of an exhalation exiting the lips of the wide and watery-eyed Brit.
The Empress sat on her pinned throne for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THNOOOO!
Eliza thrust her pelvis upward in concert with a pair of scooping arms to send Amara somersaulting over the top of her head. Singh had the wherewithal to pop to her feet while the breathless brunette had enough trouble rising to a seated position.
Slipping up from behind, Amara dropped to her knees behind the champion and snaked her arms under, up and around those of the Englishwoman, locking on a Full Nelson. She used the grip to RIP Eliza to her feet and shook her wildly from side to side, the cleared eyes of Bliss going glassy. The Indian beauty ‘escorted’ Eliza to the corner in front of them and DROVE Eliza’s face into top buckle a full TEN times while keeping her Nelson locked.
The FAWNatics couldn’t help themselves in counting out EIGHT…NINE…and TEN before Amara backs her blasted Brit a few steps from the padded steel and sent the diva flipping to a crash landing on her chest courtesy a powerful Full Nelson Suplex. Singh turned and shoveled the gobsmacked Eliza to her back with a boot toe then placed the sole on the cleft of the champion’s bosom, claiming the title in the most arrogant fashion anyone could remember with the…
FULL NELSON SUPLEX:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=1-wq9yK2MAU
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
The lackadaisical effort from the Golden Empress kept her from World Title gold as the battered Bliss was able to shake off the planted foot of the challenger and keep her reign intact. Eliza weakly rolled to her chest and started to push up, only to have Amara stomp the base of her spine and put FAWN’s current Queen of the Hill flat to the canvas.
No way was the vicious Empress done. With Bliss flush to the mat, Amara snatched an ankle off the canvas. The crowd was unable to contain their worry and they groaned when Singh dropped to her knees over the captured stem, the Supreme Subcontinental preparing to finish Eliza off with her BollyKnot.
With Bliss’s left shin already snugged tight beneath her left arm, Amara reached down with her right hand, took control of the brunette’s other ankle and mirrored her earlier preparation. From there, she adjusted her control on Eliza’s stems, making sure they couldn’t go anywhere even if the challenger’s hands were devoted to other tasks. In this case the other task was a simple Chinlock, Singh securing an S-grip beneath her rival’s jaw and then yanking back until the Briton squealed in pain. “Are you ready to surrender, washerwoman?” Amara taunted as she waggled Bliss’s noggin back n’ forth. “Or shall I make your humiliation all the more obvious?”
“The only thing embarrassing about this predicament,” the Englishwoman growled after waving off Castle’s question of surrender, “is the laziness of your grip! I would’ve thought a former Eurasian Champion would know how to properly apply such a simple EEEERRRRGGGGGGHHHH!”
Singh yanked up, rose to one knee, then slooooooooooowly got to her feet with the Songbird suspended in the combination Camel Clutch and Rocking Horse Crab she called the BollyKnot.
BOLLYKNOT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=_hJ1iW-D8Aw
“Don’t say a word!” Amara barked at Castle when the ref moved in to check on the agonized champion. “I want nothing to interrupt this pathetic imposter’s helpless wails of anguish!”
“PISS OFF!” Eliza snarled as she prized at the challenger’s laced fingers. “YOU’RE NOT WOMAN ENOUGH TO MAKE ME AAAAAAAHHHHHH FAAAAAAAAHHHHHK!”
The Bollywood Bombshell halved her Chinlock so she could hook two fingers into Eliza’s nostrils and pull! “What was that, you little bytch?” Amara snarled in the midst of trying to remove the Songbird’s beak. “Who’s not woman enough to OOOOOWWWWWWW BITING! SHE’S BITING ME, CASTLE!”
Painful as the nose claw was, Bliss endured it double down on the remaining half of the Chinlock. Yanking it away from her jaw immediately relieved the worst of the pressure on her spine, it also allowed the Briton to sink her teeth into Singh’s encroaching mitt! Amara looked to Castle for some sort of assistance, but the official seemed remarkably nonplussed by the obvious breach of etiquette, so she abandoned the nose hook and raaaaaaaaaked the Renaissance Woman across the eyes until she was able to extricate herself from those melodious jaws.
Burying her hands in Eliza’s hair the instant she was free, Singh hauled the other woman to her boot leather, dipped her head under Bliss’s right arm and looped her own right arm around the champ’s midsection. Then she snatched hold of the brunette’s hip and muscled her into the air, Amara getting enough height to swing around in a full circle before she went down on one knee and THWHUMPED the small of Bliss’s back across the strong plank of her right thigh. Eliza jolted violently, was in fact still shivering when the Empress shoved her to the mat and dropped her chest for a domineeringly snug Crossbody good for…
DERVISH BACKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=fb6XNVv2J6I
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
The World Champ raised a shoulder with half a heartbeat to spare and immediately paid for her tenacity in the form of a hard slap from the frustrated challenger. “Explain yourself, Castle!” Singh demanded of the senior official once she’d regained her feet. “Not only was that a slow count, you did NOTHING when that miserable wretch tried to maim my hand!”
“First off, that wasn’t a slow count, it just wasn’t a three count.” Nick answered calmly. “Second, I gave Eliza a pass on the biting because I essentially escorted you to the ropes so you could break the Ankle Lock. Now are there any other questions or would you like to get back to the match?”
Singh would’ve slapped his face around sideways if a groan from Eliza hadn’t drawn her attention. Rounding on the vulnerable Englishwoman in a flash, she drew back one foot and THWHUMPED it into Bliss’s ribs! Eliza sobbed, rolled onto her stomach and slowly rose to all fours. Above her, Amara Singh stepped over the penitent battler so that she had a foot planted near each hip. “BEHOLD THE ASCENDANCY OF YOUR NEW EMPRESS, FAWN!” Amara roared to the jeering throng. “AND BEHOLD THE FINAL DESTRUCTION OF THIS WARBLING PRETENDER!” With that she raised her arms high, bent down and grabbed Bliss by the biceps, all the better to yank her arms backward and drape them over thighs for the Camel CluNOOOOOO!
The Blackbird wrenched her wings free of Amara’s grasp and scuttled back through the Indian’s planted feet. In the next instant she laid claim to Singh’s ankles and yanked them out from underneath, leaving Amara to THWHUMP down flat on her face and chest. Stunned but not exactly hurt, Singh powered to verticality only to let out a little ‘eep!’ of surprise when the freshly-risen champion pulled both arms behind her back in a Double Chickenwing. The Blissful Chorus went from gloomy to glorious in an instant, their combined notes reaching the highest of highs as Bliss spun the both of ‘em in opposing half circles and dropped to her butt to THAWHUNK Singh’s face and chest into the deck with the Decrescendo!
DECRESCENDO:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=eeBL5TGQ1yU
The brutal drop left Amara a twitching wreck, yet Eliza wasn’t quite satisfied because instead of going for a pin after she shot the Half Nelson, she climbed into Singh’s lap and yanked her to a woozy seat. Snaking her left arm around the back of the challenger’s head, Eliza threaded her legs around the exotique’s bronzed waist, then crooked her right hand into a ‘C’ shaped claw and wedged it into Amara’s mouth! Singh’s reaction was as immediate as it was violent, the Bollywood Bombshell straining and twisting to free herself from the hellish hold. Eliza shook her head ‘no’ and rode it out as only she could, the Superlative Soprano leaning back to let the Scissors do their work even as she waggled and ground her thumb into the shelf of Singh’s chin.
“GNNNNNNGGHHHHHH! NNNNRRRRAAAAAHHHH!” Amara sounded more rabid than regal as she swatted and pulled at Bliss’s wrist or clawed angry welts in Englishwoman’s thighs.
“What was that, dearest?” Eliza cooed, as she used the Cleft Note to bobble Amara’s head up n’ down. “Are you ready to end your time in the spotlight or can you hang on a little while lon--” Singh reached for her face so Bliss made her pay with a prolonged constriction of Scissors and Claw. “You may be an Empress,” Bliss told the fading challenger as Amara’s struggles began to fade, “but you are no champion. And your part in this great play is at an end!”
Singh wheezed around the Cleft and made one more halfhearted attempt for the Briton’s eyes, but when Eliza bore down on the soft flesh beneath her tongue, the claw became a paddle which swatted Bliss’s shoulder once, twice, three times!
The Renaissance Woman held it until the bell sounded, then she released with a little flourish, leaving the once haughty challenger to collapse onto her back with both arms thrown high overhead. Pushing off one knee with a soft groan, Eliza offered her hand to Castle and had it raised just as the Announcer confirmed, “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner via submission and STILLLLLLL FAWN World Champion… ELIZA BLISS!”
Nick congratulated her before stepping away to retrieve the strap, which allowed the Songbird a moment to plant one foot on Amara’s heaving chest. “And so the curtain falls on your golden aspirations for 2017.” Bliss purred to her challenger. “Yet your story is not quite over, much as you may wish it to be.”
Nick returned with the belt, which Eliza accepted with a smile and thanks.
Quickly strapping it around her waist, she planted a foot on either side of Amara’s head, then turned the leather and gold around so it pointed behind her. The crowd cheered uproariously when Bliss swung around and dropped to a seat atop Singh’s nose, Bliss’s specially designed Contralto giving the defused Bombshell one last glimpse of the prize she’d failed to claim. Bracing her boots against the sides of Amara’s head to keep her in place, Eliza stretched her arms wide, threw her head back and belted out a glorious high note, holding it and the humbling mount until long after the broadcast faded to black.
EXOTIC:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=sPhhZg9v9NU
The curtains parted, revealing a set of musclebound men, clad in gold loin clothes and sandals. The FAWNiverse immediately let everyone know how much they despised the despicable challenger.
These silent manservants carried an ornate bed, where upon the Bollywood Bombshell reclined. As the ‘exotic’ grappler was carried toward the ring on the curious conveyance, the FAWNatics greeted her with boos.
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.
AMARA SINGH:
The announcer confirmed the arrival of India’s greatest export.
"Our final match of the evening is scheduled for one fall with a sixty minute time limit and is for the FAWN World Championship. Introducing first, hailing from Cawnpore, India, she stands at five feet six inches tall and weighs in tonight at one hundred and thirty-three pounds, she is the Golden Empress… AMARA SINGH!”
The spectacle halted, 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 challenger faced the crowd, proceeding to dance seductively to the remainder of her anthem. Eventually Singh slid from beneath a sparkling gold robe to reveal the curvy form beneath.
The momentary striptease drew a round of rabid applause within the jeers, Singh dropping a pearly sneer upon the peasants. She turned away and moved through the ropes, taking her rightful center stage.
Amara was clad in an ornately designed, gold bra and matching gold and red, lacy harem pants, her feet bare. Her raven tresses fell down to just past her shoulders in wild waves, dark copper skin glowing under the lights. Singh did one last twirl for the crowd before raising a microphone to her full rosy lips.
“Ruling two continents was simply below an Empress,” Amara hissed. “I made the most of that title, but I deserve and shall soon possess so much more!”
As the crowd continued to let Singh know of their displeasure, Amara tossed the microphone aside and headed for her corner, dark eyes trained on the nearing entrance of the woman she’d make a former champion and what’s more, her bytch.
While Amara scowled over her wait, the FAWNatics roared to attention when the house lights dimmed. The lowered illumination led to the requisite hoots and hollers from the excited throng. A white-hot spotlight broke the darkness and fell upon the stage and a lean, lithe brunette with a glittering gold-plated belt around her waist strode gracefully into view.
The dangerous diva, having survived a perilous inquisition from the bringer of Eternal Midnight, reveled in an ovation worthy of Pavarotti. The PA was quick to announce the dark-haired grappler’s arrival before she began her breathtaking warbling.
“And introducing her opponent! Hailing from London, England! She stands at five feet eight inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and twenty two pounds. She is the Renaissance Woman, the Superlative Soprano and the reigning and defending FAWN World Champion, ladies and gentlemen I give to you… ELIZA BLISSSSSS!”
ELIZA BLISS:
A sweet melodious set of notes reach to the heights, the highest high of soprano superlatives could only hint at the beauty of the operatic ecstasy.
Eliza, her arms raised, serenaded the crowd with her own entrance accompaniment, no one else able to reach the perfect notes of sweet rapture.
The long locks of the sinewy brunette fell in great cascades, Bliss clad in a lacy black one-piece that clung tightly to her lightly tanned form; her signature metallic wristbands, banned per complaints from recent challengers, were missing for the first time. Below, she wore tempting, knee-high black leather boots. The Englishwoman strode down the aisle belting out the concluding aria of Giulio Cesare, the opera that had made her famous or infamous, depending on fan or foe.
Between, FAWN’s grand prize was strapped snug around her waist.
Eliza’s singles’ career ascendant, the reigning World Champion was glorious, her vocal chords providing instant ecstasy as had the Summer, Fall and now Winter of Bliss.
The Songbird strode to the ring, waving and smiling. She finished her beautiful verse and slapped hands with those lucky enough to be on the aisle.
Reaching the squared circle, Eliza went on a circuit, making contact with the crowd, particularly pleased with a placard that noted “The wondrous warbler will make Singh sing a sad song.”
It wasn’t the best she’d ever seen, but Bliss gave the holder a thumbs up for effort.
The radiant brunette raised her microphone as she proceeded on her tour.
“Amara! You may have been A champion, but you’ll never be THE champion” Eliza informed. “Wallow in the sorrowful dirge that comes with being second best.”
Eliza unhooked her belt and held it aloft, making sure the Indian got a closer look.
The sinewy soprano handed over the stick and the gold then skipped up the ring steps, dipped through the ropes and, keeping an eye peeled for any attacks from the Empress, floated to her corner.
Reaching home base, Eliza stretched her limbs to match the exercise already given her vocal chords then turned and settled into an expectant crouch, waiting for the bell that would bring another onslaught from the cream of FAWN’s crop.
Eliza was out of her corner with the CLANG of the bell, her confidence clearly at an all time high following back to back victories over the likes of Burlingame and Wainright. Amara strode forth as well, and though the challenger exuded confidence as well, there was also an undercurrent of anger not usually present in Singh’s posture. Either unaware or unintimidated by this simmering threat, Blissy raised both hands to shoulder level and treated Amara to a ‘prepare yourself’ sort of nod before she lunged forward and-- CRAAACK!
Singh smacked the taste of the champ’s mouth, a genuine Bollywood Bytch Slap that spun Eliza in a half circle before she managed to catch her balance.
Or not.
Jeers from all sides when Amara put a boot against the Englishwoman’s tush and pushed, the force and abruptness of it dropping Eliza to all fours. “Pathetic!” Singh sniffed as she circled around to meet the penitent champ head on. “That fact that a whelp like you would dare to accost me in this ring, as a World Champion no less, is a scathing indictment of FAWN’s golden circle ever since the Eurasian title was stolen by that rasping haGUUUFFFHH!”
The Renaissance Woman reared back on her knees and PAK-PAK-PAAAKED a trio of straight rights into Amara’s bronzed midsection. Delighted by the simple percussion of knuckles on belly, Eliza caught hold of the other woman’s hip and reared back for a Headbutt only to shriek in agony when Singh raaaaaaaaaaked her across the eyes!
“Keep off her eyes, Amara!” Castle barked at once. “Don’t make me tell you again!”
The Bombshell didn’t even bother with a reply, she’d already filled her hands with Eliza’s hair, all the better to yank her noggin back n’ forth. This punishment went on until the official reached ‘THREE!’ on a count Singh thought far too quick, yet she abided by it only because it gave her the excuse to drop to one knee and thus THWHUNK Bliss’s forehead into the mat with a truncated Facebuster! Eliza hit hard and started to roll onto her back, a trip cut rudely short when Amara doubled down on the hair-hold.
“Is this what the World Championship has come to?” she taunted amidst a hard round of brutal cheek on canvas scrubbing. “Nothing more than a prop for this warbling, whey-faced washerwoman?!” Bliss clawed and smacked at her attacker’s forearms, alas it again fell to Nick Castle to free her from the former actress’s cruel clutches. Raising her hands to shoulder level simultaneous with the ref’s ‘FOUR!’ Singh made a show of clapping some dark hairs from her palms as she got to her feet.
“Go to her hair again and the count will only get faster, Amara.” Castle warned. “Go ahead and see if I’m bluffing.”
The challenger paused mid-reach, thought about it for a moment, then cupped the Briton’s ears in each hand. “Your bias is as disgusting as it is blatant.” she sneered after hauling Blissy to a slumped seat. “Not that it will be enough to save this filthy little imitation champion.” Eager to emphasize this threatening prophecy, Amara swung into position on Eliza’s left side, Singh using her right hand to the other brunette’s head in place until she thrust her hips back and down, a Bollywood Butt Bump that THWHAPPED against the side of her opponent’s skull. Hardly a match ender, yet quite disorienting, as Bliss only tugged at her attacker’s wrist when Singh palmed her noggin and transformed her early matinee into a disrespectful double feature.
BOLLYWOOD DOUBLE FEATURE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=YcAuzQS0HFU
Eliza ‘uuunnnnggghhed’ and tried to create some separation but Amara buried a hand in her hair, glaring daggers at Castle the whole time. Swaying her hips in direct defiance of the zebra’s count, Singh kept up the Harem Shake until ‘FOUR’, when she unleashed the third Butt Bump in less than a min-NO! The Songbird hooked an arm between the challenger’s sturdy stems and pulled away from the impact while simultaneously using Amara’s own momentum to stack her up on her shoulders with a Schoolboy good for…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
Amara wriggled to one side, breaking the count with half a second to spare. Galled at the prospect of another English chambermaid stealing a victory at her expense, Singh scrambled to her feet and promptly fired one straight at Bliss’s nose! Her aim was true but her reach proved short, as the Songbird snatched hold of her ankle to stop the strike barely an inch shy of her nose. Safe for the moment, Eliza rose to her full height with Amara’s boot firmly in her possession.
“Amara my dear, there’s something I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time.” Bliss admitted as she tugged the challenger’s captured ankle back n’ forth. “Having made it a point to sit through your entire cinematic oeuvre in preparation for this match, I can safely say the only thing worse than your acting is your singing. Really, it astounds me that someone with as much presence between these ropes can vanish so completely the instant a director calls--”
She would’ve said ‘action’ if Amara hadn’t leapt off her plant foot and flicked an Enzugiri at the side of her opponent’s skull. But that was just the sort of reaction Bliss had expected and so she ducked low, leaving Singh’s counter to sail harmlessly overhead en route to dropping the challenger flat on her face. Amara bounced to her knees at once, though at the moment her thoughts were focused on the alignment of her nose rather than the position of the FAWN World Champion. This lull in defense cost her dearly when Eliza ran the ropes on her six and came back with a full head of steam. Helping herself to a vengeful handful of hair as she passed by, Bliss hopped up and came down on her butt, all the better to THWHONK Amara’s face against the deck.
BASEMENT BULLDOG:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=oGH0YNvi-YU
Singh’s inspection started all over again, the scope widened to include her lips and brow. This perusal turned up no significant damage which was good, but it also meant she was quite preoccupied when Eliza strode over and helped herself to the challenger’s dark tresses. “Hair! HAIR!” Amara had no problem shouting to Castle for assistance and Nick had no trouble ignoring, especially when Bliss segued into a perfectly legal Side Headlock immediately thereafter.
“Don’t make it a habit, Eliza.” Nick indicated the hair even as the champ ground Singh’s temple against the point of one hip.
“What, this?” Blissy ran her right hand through Amara’s hair and treated it to a single sharp pull. “I wouldn’t dream of it, good sir.”
As a show of good faith she twisted into the challenger and slung her up n’ over, Eliza displaying flawless fundamentals with the Headlock Takedown. Floating over the burbling Bombshell the instant she touched down, Eliza planted on her palms and threaded Amara’s noggin between her thighs, the Briton hooking her left shin into the pit of her right knee to secure a suspended version of the standard Figure Four Headscissors.
HEADLOCK TAKEDOWN & HEADSCISSORS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=PS5Q3rs8-Ww
Brought back to reality by the sound of blood pulsing in her ears, Singh sat up as best she could and quickly set to work clawing her way out of “UUUUNNNNGGGHH!”
Eliza squeezed harder and Amara slopped to her back, the challenger momentarily reduced to hapless wriggling. “You’ll pay a high price for slapping me, Understudy!” Bliss let her own arrogance shine forth as she made Singh suffer. “Those reviews from Mumbai won’t be half as heartless as the punishment I inflict for daring to intrude upon MY stage.”
With that Eliza started her show in earnest, the Songbird busting out a perfect set of push-ups for the fitness freaks while simultaneously going through a few scales for the more musically inclined in attendance. Whatever their preference, the FAWNatics soon united in a ‘TAP!’ chant that had Eliza beaming and Amara fuming through her already scant supply of oxygen.
Singh grunted, trying desperately and fruitlessly to pry her head loose from the tightening Scissors as she continued to be embarrassed by the title-holding Songbird. At least the recent mess in Mumbai with Lenore hadn’t broken into the media. This display was live and worldwide and the exotique couldn’t free herself. Blissy got a full ten-spot, delighting in her domination but a little limb-weary on both ends. She released her Scissors, pushed to her feet and shook out all four ivory-skinned appendages as she circled the splayed Indian.
With Amara chest-and-facedown, Eliza slid to a knee at her foe’s side and corralled the near leg of the Bollywood Bombshell. Wrapping her arms around Singh’s ankle and shin, Bliss rotated to a kneeling, forward-facing straddle of the challenger. Pressing the captured leg forward in an ever-growing arch until the sole of Amara’s boot nearly touched her ebony locks, Eliza had her body pin the limb in place so she had both hands available to strap on her version of a Singh favorite, the Camel Clutch.
LEG HOOK CAMEL CLUTCH:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=xPQsU4hiHxs
Now the Indian grappler was curled in another direction, her back arched, face pointed to the rafters from the grip of the growling diva. Amara’s perfect pearlies ground in pain as again the delighted FAWNatics tempted her to tap with an taunting chant. Amara was able to slip a hand back far enough to find Eliza’s dark locks and tugged as best she could. It’s enough to convince Eliza to release her captor, who then sank both sets of nails into Amara’s scalp and SLAMMED her foe’s face into the thinly-sheathed plywood.
Singh’s flawless features bounced off the deck and her gaze quickly transitioned from anguished to dazed. Eliza rose to vertical and hovered, raising her arms high and wide to elicit another roaring ovation. Bliss slipped stealthily into Amara’s six as the broken Bombshell, perhaps now realizing the Brit had blossomed into a sublime singles threat, struggled to find her equilibrium.
With Singh in an unsteady stance, the soprano grabbed a shoulder of her foe and turned the challenger to face her. She wrapped an arm over the back of Amara’s neck and slipped her head under the opposite arm of the beauty from the subcontinent. Showing strength to spare, the Songbird launched Amara into the air over her shoulder, giving her a half-spin for good measure so she could snatch the noggin of the former Eurasian champ and SPLATTER her into the canvas with an Inverted Suplex Cutter.
INVERTED SUPLEX CUTTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=OtvaXqCp-TU
The hellacious impact sent Amara sprawling to her back and Eliza wasn’t about to waste this golden opportunity. She dove atop the demolished Singh in a full body pin, forcing her rival’s shoulders down while capturing the Indian’s arms above her head at the wrists. Nick slid next to champ and challenger and counted out the…
ONE…
TWO…
Amara pushed a shoulder up if less than convincingly. But it’s enough for Castle to hold only two fingers aloft and Bliss, pushed up to all fours, nodded in agreement. Sinking her nails into Amara lush raven locks, Bliss pulled up the wobbling head of the Bombshell and DROVE a Forearm Shiver into her jaw, snapping Singh’s head back, the base of the challenger’s skull THUNKING against the deck.
“Enjoying this domination? It’s my special aria just for you,” Eliza tittered into Singh’s blank stare. “I call it Ode to a Tarnished Empress.”
Sliding and pivoting alongside Singh’s frame, Eliza mounted her foe in a backward-facing, kneeling straddle before thrusting her bum down into the bronzed chest of the Indian grappler, forcing a burst of breath from Amara. Slowly, as the crowd beeped in elation, Blissy backed dat ass up toward her signature Contralto, a Reverse Face Sit and Belly Claw combination that had brought many a roster member to their end.
But before Eliza could get fully situated, Amara sank her nails into Eliza’s alabaster skin just south of each armpit and draaaaaaaagged them down to each hip. Bliss’s body straightened and froze as she shrieked in perfect pitch. The champ leapt to her feet and scurried a few steps away, her head pivoting one way then the other to review the damage. Long pink then red welt lines emerged on the ivory skin as Amara managed to reach a seat and try to blink her eyes to something approaching clarity.
Not ready to relinquish control, Eliza raced back at her foe, loading up a Soccer Kick at Singh’s chest, the target beckoning the British Blackbird. But when she swung the pendulum toward the Empress, Amara dropped under and let it sway overhead. Grabbing the planted lower limb, Singh RIPPED the Songbird off her base, Eliza falling to her chin and chest.
Dark eyes wide and glassy, Eliza shook off the impact as Singh sat back up and spun to find Bliss. The Bollywood Bombshell pushed to her feet and dropped a knee into Blissy’s tailbone. Eliza yelped back to awareness, both hands racing to her behind where a genuflecting Amara grabbed each wrist in a palm and rose to vertical. She lifted a boot and placed the sole against the back of Eliza’s braincase then wrenched on the wrists to lift Eliza’s face high off the canvas
Bliss shook her head, blurting out a staccato burst of ‘no, no, no’, but Singh said ‘YES’ with an emphatic Curbstomp that PLANTED the Songbird’s beak into the mat, the Empress placing a period at the end of the champion’s fun run.
Singh staggered away from the violent collision, regaining her balance after attempting to rearrange Eliza’s features. Bliss rolled to her back, hands pressed against her face. She finally drew them away, fury in her dark eyes, only to realize Amara was on the way down with an Elbow Drop aimed square between the diva’s peepers that connected with a sickening thud.
Eliza screamed in pain, body flopping and twitching, palms again flying to her mug.
“You won’t be able to show that doorstop of a face when I’m done,” the Empress assured.
Having risen, she drilled a boot into Blissy’s bosom and another and another, until Eliza’s defenses dropped the tiniest bit then Amara BANGED one into the champ’s forehead, again rattling her foe’s noggin, seemingly determined to provide Blissy’s make-up artist with steady work in making her presentable for any promos in the near future.
Moving to a standing reverse straddle of the splayed Eliza’s head, Amara threw her legs out in front of her and dropped Indian booty toward Blissy’s face for an explosive beginning to what surely would be a Bollywood Ending. Thankfully for the FAWNatics, Bliss was able to press her palms to the canvas and push her head from under the generous backside of the Bombshell.
Amara reached for her own aching tailbone, face twisted in pain as Eliza staggered to her feet. She wobbled her way to the ropes, throwing her back into them to rebound for an attack on the challenger. But only a few steps from the cables, Eliza was nearly split in half by a vicious Spear from the risen Singh, Amara jackknifing the frame of the soprano around her delving shoulder then PLANTING Bliss into the deck and landing heavily atop her foe, sandwiching the blasted Brit.
Singh remained aboard the motionless Songbird for…
ONE…
TWO…
The Spear was pure A-List, however the cover was not, Amara’s failure to hook a leg coming back to haunt her when Bliss twisted onto her belly with half a second to spare. Snarling her disgusted for the silenced Soprano, Singh curled her fingers into hooks and ran them from shoulders to buttocks, the challenger making sure Blissy’s bum suffered a particularly painful finishing flourish. Eliza wailed pitiably, tried to barrel roll to safety but Amara would have none of it. She caught the Englishwoman by trunks and tresses, the Bollywood Bombshell using a callous wedgie to ensure the champ stayed facedown on the deck.
Admire the floor of this grand stage while you can, you little urchin!” Singh sneered after she’d rose to her full height. “Because you’re going to clean every inch of it with your tongue once the title is around my waist!”
The opera aficionados didn’t like this prophecy one bit and they let Singh hear it with a hearty chorus of jeers, alas, their disdain wasn’t enough to keep Amara from leaving the canvas in a high vertical leap, then stretching out and coming down with all her weight THWHUMPING across the small of Bliss’s back. No halfhearted cover this time around, Singh shot the Half Nelson at once, bulled Eliza onto her back and hooked the far leg tight enough to bring the Brit’s knee within a whisper of her chin. Beside them, Castle swooped in to count…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
The Songbird proved herself resilient, shoving Amara’s encroaching bod away with enough authority to raise a sneer from the deposed Empress. “Struggle and squirm all you want, washerwoman.” Singh taunted the champ in the midst of peeling her off the deck. “But when all is said and done, your World Championship reign will end with far less fanfare than your wretched operas.” Eliza hadn’t the energy to defend herself, let alone her former career, thus Amara was treated to blessed silence when she clamped down on the champ’s right wrist and hurled her into the strands with an Irish--NO! Singh dug in her heels, reeled Bliss back the way she’d come and went low, all the better to cinch her prey around the thighs and pop up on tiptoes. It was a surprisingly dainty movement, one highlighted even more by a FAWN photog that snapped a shot just as Singh shifted all her weight to her right foot. There was nothing delicate about what came next, the former actress spinning in a brutal half circle and dropping to her knees to THAWHAM Bliss into the thinly-sheathed plywood with a gorgeous Spinebuster!
SPINEBUSTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=pBbhDP3tNVo
Jamming her shoulders into the pits of Eliza’s knees when the Englishwoman’s legs jolted into the air, Amara bulled forward, roughly stacking her prey on her shoulders for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
A relieved roar from the Blissful Choir when their heroine slopped loose with a heartbeat to spare. “This is foolish, Castle!” Amara barked at the referee when he answered her three fingers with two. “Stringing this wastrel along doesn’t make her reign any less tragic! It only delays my inevitable ascension!”
“Looks to me like you’ve got her right where you want her, Amara.” Nick replied from a safe distance. “So don’t let me stop you. You want to ascend? Ascend!”
The former Eurasian Champ didn’t much care for the man’s tone, but arguing with him was a waste of breath and punishing Bliss was a breath of fresh air. To that end she scraped the reeling Renaissance Woman off the deck and promptly jabbed a Headbutt between her eyes. Already rubbery, Eliza’s legs almost gave out, meaning Singh had no trouble leading Eliza over to the ropes facing the hard camera. Snuggled in behind her foe, Amara wedged her head under Eliza’s left arm, slapped on a half Waistlock and grabbed a handful of kneepad for extra leverage. From there she muscled Bliss up, but rather than dump her on the back of her head with a Backdrop Suplex, she moved forward and forced the other brunette into a woozy seat on the middle strand.
“And now, brat.” Amara grabbed Bliss by the scruff of the neck and gave her a nasty little shake. “It’s time you learned the power of a real champion!”
With that she crooked her other arm into a ‘V’ and unleashed a Forearm Flurry worthy of the alley behind the Slaughtered Lamb, Singh just SMASHING away at her target’s neck, shoulders and lower back. Give him credit, Castle allowed Amara plenty of time to work, but when he’d passed an internal ‘FIVE’ with no sign of slowing from the challenger, the ref stepped in and said, “Get her off the ropes, Amara! Now!” He’d expected Singh to force a count, so imagine his surprise when she cupped both hands over Bliss’s chin, hopped into the air and wedged both knees against the Briton’s exposed back! THAWHUMP! Singh dropped backward and brought Eliza with her, Bliss’s lovely lungs treated to some severe trauma courtesy of Amara’s Bollywood Blowout. Quick to draaaaaaaag her opponent away from the ropes, Singh delivered herself across Bliss’s bosom in a miniature Splash, then hooked the far leg for…
BOLLYWOOD BLOWOUT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZH1oVoA7oEY
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
Eliza powered free again and this time Singh couldn’t contain her anger. “STOP CODDLING THIS IDIOT, CASTLE!” the Empress bellowed at the black & white. “I’VE PINNED HER THREE TIMES NOW AND IF I HAVE TO DO IT AGAIN SHE’LL LEAVE IN AN AMBULANCE!”
Nick didn’t bat an eye, though the enraged challenger was literally screaming in his face. When she was done, he said, “Perhaps instead of wasting all this energy on me you should try to keep the champion from rolling out of the ring to collect herself?”
Amara whirled around, cursed violently when she saw Bliss easing under the bottom rope to the apron. “Don’t you dare run from me, little girl.” Singh growled as she backed into the ropes on the opposite side of the ring. “Running only ensures you’ll die tired.”
On that pleasant note she exploded out of the strands and loped across the ring, the Golden Empress lowering a shoulder just as Bliss pulled herself up and-- ‘OOOOOHHHHHH!’ The Superlative Soprano spun aside in the nick of time, leaving Amara to fly through the gap between middle and top strand with a Spear that cut nothing but air! Now, Amara Singh was a villainess par excellence, yet even she got a round of sympathetic groans when she plummeted through the aether en route to a brutal facedown landing mere inches from the steel guardrail.
Back on the apron, Eliza hooked an arm over the top rope and kept a watchful eye on the devastated challenger as she tried to steady her breathing. Understandably concerned about Amara’s condition, Castle started through the ropes, then stopped when he saw Singh grab hold of the barricade. She hauled herself to one knee a moment later, so the ref slipped back inside and started to count. He’d reached the halfway point when Amara pushed off one knee and rounded on the ring in search of the cowardly crow that’d “UUUUUNNNNNNNGGGGHHHH!”
Eliza came down on her like a Valkyrie, the enraged brunette hooking her hands behind Singh’s neck even as she jammed a knee against her chin. The drop from apron to padded cement floor wasn’t pleasant for the champ’s already damaged back, yet she endured with a smile because the force of her Sheer Bliss turned the Bombshell inside out, Singh exploding into an involuntary somersault that left her stretched out flat on her belly.
In no mood to get counted out against this bloviating pretender, Eliza filled one hand with Amara’s hair, the other with her waistband and muscled her up just high enough to roll the other brunette under the bottom rope. Bliss put a knee on the apron and almost went through before pulling back and heading for the corner instead. Claiming the top turnbuckle as her own after a short climb, the Superlative Soprano stretched her arms wide and offered the FAWNatics a glorious high note to remind them that all was right with the universe. From there she leapt out into the void, Eliza curling her whole body into a high velocity ‘V’ all the better to THWHUMP the point of one elbow between Singh’s defenseless breasts! Amara jolted like she’d been touched by a live wire, but her shoulders were nice and flat when Bliss hooked both legs and folded her in half for…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Singh’s body spasmed and she broke free of her bondage, ending on her side, flawless features twisted in pain.
The Superlative Soprano took a glance at Castle. The man held up two fingers then used them to show how close his hand was from the mat for the third slap. Bliss nodded and sank a set of nails into Amara’s scalp. She forced the Bollywood Bombshell’s features flat to the canvas and scrubbed it against the abrasive canvas, giving Singh a facewash, lest people forget the diva could get nasty when so inclined.
Eliza pulled the Empress’s head FAR back with the grip on her ebony locks, enough so Singh’s bosom was off the canvas, and SLAMMED Amara’s face into the deck, the Indian grappler’s noggin bouncing off the thinly-covered plywood.
Singh rolled to her back, hands slowly rising to her face, Amara’s dark eyes glassy as she pressed both sets of fingers against her nose. Bliss knelt nearby.
“You were able to hang onto a couple continents for a while,” Eliza admitted, “but this is the WORLD we’re talking about now. Don’t even try to think you’re ready for that kind of performance.”
Eliza pushed to her feet as a snorting Singh rolled to her chest, apparently in preparation of rising herself. The Songbird wasn’t interested in finding out if the Empress was ready. Bliss snatched Amara’s near ankle between both hands and forearms and used those limbs to lock in her Fortissimo!
FORTISSIMO!
www.youtube.com/watch?v=bxYn9hqTFsc
Eliza twisted the joint like she’s trying to unscrew Amara’s foot from her shin, sending Singh’s foot pointing in an awful angle. The Empress howled in agony, grasping at her raven locks and tugging to try and spread the pain. Castle wasn’t convinced it could be done in sufficient measure and he lowered to a knee next to the grappler from the subcontinent.
“Let me know, Amara. Let me know if you’ve had it.”
Amara removed her hands from her follicles to took a swipe at Castle and she locked onto his ankle. Aghast at becoming a part of the match instead of adjudicating it, Castle started to back away from the fighters, but Singh was clamped on tight and, when he did, he dragged Amara several feet in a left turn. Realizing she’s close to the ropes, the Bombshell exchanged her grip to the bottom rope and screamed for release.
Knowing he’s been used, Castle could do little but shrug a silent apology at a peeved Bliss and tell the diva she had to break the hold. Eliza growled and did as she’s told, but only by lifting the leg high and THUMPING Singh’s knee into the mat. Singh yelped and pulled the aching limb close, cradling it with one arm, while she held on to the rope for dear life with the other.
The champion moved back a few steps from her foe at Castle’s urging but remained on the balls of her feet as Amara rose. The Indian grappler got halfway up before she threw her body through the ropes and landed on her knees on the outside with a wince. The maneuver prompted Bliss to close on the challenger so Singh couldn’t get away unscathed.
Reaching over the top strand and sinking her nails into the ebony locks of the Empress, Blissy tugged Singh to her feet. No doubt expecting Amara to wrap her palms around the back of her head and hotshot her, Eliza beat the challenger to the punch, shifting her hands in that direction. But before she could drop to the mat and send Singh flying to the floor, the talons of the Empress flew to the baby browns of the slender soprano and rake across them.
Eliza shrieked in pain, letting loose of Amara and stumbling blindly away, an arm thrust outward, palm reaching for anything that might be in front of her. The sightless Songbird flailed all the way to a corner on the opposite side of the ring while the exotique from Asia reenters and stalked her injured prey.
With Bliss leaning deep into the buckles, facing outward, rubbing fitfully at her eyes, Amara gathered a little momentum with a crow hop and blasted her way into the corner, NAILING Blissy’s mug with a leaping Forearm Smash. Eliza’s rocked by the impact but kept her feet.
Singh snatched her by the scruff of the neck and spun her outward, the challenger taking Eliza’s place with her back to the buckles. Singh climbed to the middle ropes so her crotch was directly in front of the widely blinking peepers of the diva. Amara leapt off her perch and rode Bliss to the deck, SLAMMING her ass down with the soprano’s chest sandwiched tightly between booty and canvas, a huge burst of an exhalation exiting the lips of the wide and watery-eyed Brit.
The Empress sat on her pinned throne for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THNOOOO!
Eliza thrust her pelvis upward in concert with a pair of scooping arms to send Amara somersaulting over the top of her head. Singh had the wherewithal to pop to her feet while the breathless brunette had enough trouble rising to a seated position.
Slipping up from behind, Amara dropped to her knees behind the champion and snaked her arms under, up and around those of the Englishwoman, locking on a Full Nelson. She used the grip to RIP Eliza to her feet and shook her wildly from side to side, the cleared eyes of Bliss going glassy. The Indian beauty ‘escorted’ Eliza to the corner in front of them and DROVE Eliza’s face into top buckle a full TEN times while keeping her Nelson locked.
The FAWNatics couldn’t help themselves in counting out EIGHT…NINE…and TEN before Amara backs her blasted Brit a few steps from the padded steel and sent the diva flipping to a crash landing on her chest courtesy a powerful Full Nelson Suplex. Singh turned and shoveled the gobsmacked Eliza to her back with a boot toe then placed the sole on the cleft of the champion’s bosom, claiming the title in the most arrogant fashion anyone could remember with the…
FULL NELSON SUPLEX:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=1-wq9yK2MAU
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
The lackadaisical effort from the Golden Empress kept her from World Title gold as the battered Bliss was able to shake off the planted foot of the challenger and keep her reign intact. Eliza weakly rolled to her chest and started to push up, only to have Amara stomp the base of her spine and put FAWN’s current Queen of the Hill flat to the canvas.
No way was the vicious Empress done. With Bliss flush to the mat, Amara snatched an ankle off the canvas. The crowd was unable to contain their worry and they groaned when Singh dropped to her knees over the captured stem, the Supreme Subcontinental preparing to finish Eliza off with her BollyKnot.
With Bliss’s left shin already snugged tight beneath her left arm, Amara reached down with her right hand, took control of the brunette’s other ankle and mirrored her earlier preparation. From there, she adjusted her control on Eliza’s stems, making sure they couldn’t go anywhere even if the challenger’s hands were devoted to other tasks. In this case the other task was a simple Chinlock, Singh securing an S-grip beneath her rival’s jaw and then yanking back until the Briton squealed in pain. “Are you ready to surrender, washerwoman?” Amara taunted as she waggled Bliss’s noggin back n’ forth. “Or shall I make your humiliation all the more obvious?”
“The only thing embarrassing about this predicament,” the Englishwoman growled after waving off Castle’s question of surrender, “is the laziness of your grip! I would’ve thought a former Eurasian Champion would know how to properly apply such a simple EEEERRRRGGGGGGHHHH!”
Singh yanked up, rose to one knee, then slooooooooooowly got to her feet with the Songbird suspended in the combination Camel Clutch and Rocking Horse Crab she called the BollyKnot.
BOLLYKNOT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=_hJ1iW-D8Aw
“Don’t say a word!” Amara barked at Castle when the ref moved in to check on the agonized champion. “I want nothing to interrupt this pathetic imposter’s helpless wails of anguish!”
“PISS OFF!” Eliza snarled as she prized at the challenger’s laced fingers. “YOU’RE NOT WOMAN ENOUGH TO MAKE ME AAAAAAAHHHHHH FAAAAAAAAHHHHHK!”
The Bollywood Bombshell halved her Chinlock so she could hook two fingers into Eliza’s nostrils and pull! “What was that, you little bytch?” Amara snarled in the midst of trying to remove the Songbird’s beak. “Who’s not woman enough to OOOOOWWWWWWW BITING! SHE’S BITING ME, CASTLE!”
Painful as the nose claw was, Bliss endured it double down on the remaining half of the Chinlock. Yanking it away from her jaw immediately relieved the worst of the pressure on her spine, it also allowed the Briton to sink her teeth into Singh’s encroaching mitt! Amara looked to Castle for some sort of assistance, but the official seemed remarkably nonplussed by the obvious breach of etiquette, so she abandoned the nose hook and raaaaaaaaaked the Renaissance Woman across the eyes until she was able to extricate herself from those melodious jaws.
Burying her hands in Eliza’s hair the instant she was free, Singh hauled the other woman to her boot leather, dipped her head under Bliss’s right arm and looped her own right arm around the champ’s midsection. Then she snatched hold of the brunette’s hip and muscled her into the air, Amara getting enough height to swing around in a full circle before she went down on one knee and THWHUMPED the small of Bliss’s back across the strong plank of her right thigh. Eliza jolted violently, was in fact still shivering when the Empress shoved her to the mat and dropped her chest for a domineeringly snug Crossbody good for…
DERVISH BACKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=fb6XNVv2J6I
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
The World Champ raised a shoulder with half a heartbeat to spare and immediately paid for her tenacity in the form of a hard slap from the frustrated challenger. “Explain yourself, Castle!” Singh demanded of the senior official once she’d regained her feet. “Not only was that a slow count, you did NOTHING when that miserable wretch tried to maim my hand!”
“First off, that wasn’t a slow count, it just wasn’t a three count.” Nick answered calmly. “Second, I gave Eliza a pass on the biting because I essentially escorted you to the ropes so you could break the Ankle Lock. Now are there any other questions or would you like to get back to the match?”
Singh would’ve slapped his face around sideways if a groan from Eliza hadn’t drawn her attention. Rounding on the vulnerable Englishwoman in a flash, she drew back one foot and THWHUMPED it into Bliss’s ribs! Eliza sobbed, rolled onto her stomach and slowly rose to all fours. Above her, Amara Singh stepped over the penitent battler so that she had a foot planted near each hip. “BEHOLD THE ASCENDANCY OF YOUR NEW EMPRESS, FAWN!” Amara roared to the jeering throng. “AND BEHOLD THE FINAL DESTRUCTION OF THIS WARBLING PRETENDER!” With that she raised her arms high, bent down and grabbed Bliss by the biceps, all the better to yank her arms backward and drape them over thighs for the Camel CluNOOOOOO!
The Blackbird wrenched her wings free of Amara’s grasp and scuttled back through the Indian’s planted feet. In the next instant she laid claim to Singh’s ankles and yanked them out from underneath, leaving Amara to THWHUMP down flat on her face and chest. Stunned but not exactly hurt, Singh powered to verticality only to let out a little ‘eep!’ of surprise when the freshly-risen champion pulled both arms behind her back in a Double Chickenwing. The Blissful Chorus went from gloomy to glorious in an instant, their combined notes reaching the highest of highs as Bliss spun the both of ‘em in opposing half circles and dropped to her butt to THAWHUNK Singh’s face and chest into the deck with the Decrescendo!
DECRESCENDO:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=eeBL5TGQ1yU
The brutal drop left Amara a twitching wreck, yet Eliza wasn’t quite satisfied because instead of going for a pin after she shot the Half Nelson, she climbed into Singh’s lap and yanked her to a woozy seat. Snaking her left arm around the back of the challenger’s head, Eliza threaded her legs around the exotique’s bronzed waist, then crooked her right hand into a ‘C’ shaped claw and wedged it into Amara’s mouth! Singh’s reaction was as immediate as it was violent, the Bollywood Bombshell straining and twisting to free herself from the hellish hold. Eliza shook her head ‘no’ and rode it out as only she could, the Superlative Soprano leaning back to let the Scissors do their work even as she waggled and ground her thumb into the shelf of Singh’s chin.
“GNNNNNNGGHHHHHH! NNNNRRRRAAAAAHHHH!” Amara sounded more rabid than regal as she swatted and pulled at Bliss’s wrist or clawed angry welts in Englishwoman’s thighs.
“What was that, dearest?” Eliza cooed, as she used the Cleft Note to bobble Amara’s head up n’ down. “Are you ready to end your time in the spotlight or can you hang on a little while lon--” Singh reached for her face so Bliss made her pay with a prolonged constriction of Scissors and Claw. “You may be an Empress,” Bliss told the fading challenger as Amara’s struggles began to fade, “but you are no champion. And your part in this great play is at an end!”
Singh wheezed around the Cleft and made one more halfhearted attempt for the Briton’s eyes, but when Eliza bore down on the soft flesh beneath her tongue, the claw became a paddle which swatted Bliss’s shoulder once, twice, three times!
The Renaissance Woman held it until the bell sounded, then she released with a little flourish, leaving the once haughty challenger to collapse onto her back with both arms thrown high overhead. Pushing off one knee with a soft groan, Eliza offered her hand to Castle and had it raised just as the Announcer confirmed, “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner via submission and STILLLLLLL FAWN World Champion… ELIZA BLISS!”
Nick congratulated her before stepping away to retrieve the strap, which allowed the Songbird a moment to plant one foot on Amara’s heaving chest. “And so the curtain falls on your golden aspirations for 2017.” Bliss purred to her challenger. “Yet your story is not quite over, much as you may wish it to be.”
Nick returned with the belt, which Eliza accepted with a smile and thanks.
Quickly strapping it around her waist, she planted a foot on either side of Amara’s head, then turned the leather and gold around so it pointed behind her. The crowd cheered uproariously when Bliss swung around and dropped to a seat atop Singh’s nose, Bliss’s specially designed Contralto giving the defused Bombshell one last glimpse of the prize she’d failed to claim. Bracing her boots against the sides of Amara’s head to keep her in place, Eliza stretched her arms wide, threw her head back and belted out a glorious high note, holding it and the humbling mount until long after the broadcast faded to black.