Post by walkindude on Mar 28, 2018 1:50:52 GMT
The following clip was uploaded to an obscure thread on the FAWN messageboard approximately two weeks ago and purports to show a heretofore unknown Oil Wrestling Bout between Amara Singh and Lemore Lemarchand sometime during the promotion’s tour of India in the fall of last year.
Amara squatted on her haunches in the corner of a ten by ten cushioned mat with bumpers on the side to keep the oil in place. She looked at a non-existent watch on her wrist. "As I thought, too scared she'd become the throne of an Empress."
AMARA SINGH:
A murmur from the small crowd of assembled spectators as Lenore appeared on the other side of the 'ring' and climbed inside. Clad in a short black silk robe, the Raven, undod the knot at the waist and slipped it off, revealing cheeky black & purple briefs and a matching bikini top done in a subtle feather pattern. "What's wrong, Amara? Afraid you can‘t win by anything other than default? Doesn’t make you a very good Empress, does it?”
Singh, in a white two piece that was no doubt meant to stir passions when it got covered in the greasy substance tilted her head. "I'm the queen of all I survey, including every venue a slender little stick such as yourself dares to enter." Singh's pearly whites widen, knowing Lenore wouldn't dare step in and take up the offer she'd made. "You've proven you can face me and talk, but not that you can fight me and win."
LENORE LEMARCHAND:
Lenore only looks at the former Eurasian champ for a second before she stepped up and climbed into Singh's slippery domain. Dropping into a similar crouch, she put her hands in the oil and carefully rubbed a layer into her arms and thighs, then stood up and smacked her backside with a slightly damp THWHAP! "I'm ready whenever you are, Empress. Just make sure to take a look around before the fight starts, because once it does, your kingdom belongs to me!"
Amara rose from her haunches and into a tensed position. She'd taken some minutes ahead of time to get accustomed to the environment, now she shined up her entire frame, wiping the oil over her body so Lenore would not have an easy handhold. Her attire went nearly sheer instantly and her golden-brown skin glistened. "You may frighten the uninitiated, but an Empress cannot be impressed by the likes of you." Not waiting for any cue, Singh moved forward and locked her hands into Lenore's shoulders, trying to rip her from side to side and send her tumbling into the oily tarp that covered the cushioned 'pit'.
Lenore grabbed at Amara's shoulder in one hand, then plunged the other into the Indian stunner's dark locks. Planting her feet on the floor of the pit was almost impossible, so rather than fight it she turned with Singh, the two battlers rotating through a sort of cumbersome slow dance as they pushed and shoved. Growing more confident every second she was on her feet, the Raven abruptly let go of Amara's shoulder and fetched her a CLAPPING slap across the cheek! Capitalizing on Singh's split second of wide-eyed 'how dare you!' surprise, Lemarchand smacked her again, then sank that hand into the former champ's left breast!
The sting of the first slap hurt almost as much as the disrespect showed her superior. A show Lenore would live to regret. When Amara returns to let Lenore know how she's force-fed another clap that swung her head to the side again. It's soon followed by the burning pain of her left breast being mauled. "Peasant!" Singh shrieked as Lenore squeezed tight. With two free hands, Singh decided to ignore the pain coming from her chest and slid her hands from Lenore's shoulders closer to her throat. Doing her best to link her hands around the Raven's neck, she started to throttle Lenore to find out if the Raven could be so disrespectful without an air supply.
"GRRRRRHHHHHHH!" Lenore's face twisted with concern as the Golden Empress sank in the blatant Stranglehold. Gritting her teeth to endure it as best she could, she pulled the other brunette's hair one more time, then doubled down on the breast claw. Amara growled in displeasure, but painful though the attack was, she could endure it far longer than Lemarchand could survive without breath. Admitting as much to herself a moment later, Lenore suddenly hooked her fingers over Amara's cups and jerked down! In the same breath she hooked a foot behind the Indian's right leg and surged forward, hoping to take them down into the oil for the first time!
Watching the dark eyes of Lenore bulge as she cinched her grip tighter around the Raven's throat drew a determined smirk from the full lips of the Empress. The sight was enough to mask the pain as Lenore continued to rip into her rack. Using the golden-brown gurls as handles, Lenore changed strategy with her grip, using them to steer Amara instead of punish and when the Raven slipped a foot behind one of Amara's, she effectively broke the choke as a tumbling Amara placed her palms down to cushion the blow and be instantly ready for a scramble in the pool once she's landed. The trip, executed by the Raven, left Amara on her back and vulnerable, but she tried to 'swim' to the side to get to her knees for a face-off.
Sucking in a deep breath as air returned to her lungs, Lenore's a step too slow to stop Amara's retreat, though she managed to grab hold of her ankles. Shifting position so that she's fully on her butt, Lemarchand slipped a foot between her opponent's thighs and wedged it against her crotch. "Choke on this, honey!" Lenore pushed forward with her foot and leaned back with everything else, the Raven stretching out as best she could to grind down her rival's reserves with the classic catfight tactic!
A look of concern could not be hidden on Amara's face as Lenore possessed both ankles and spread Singh's legs wide. With both women on their bums, the Raven's comfortably inside those of the Empress, she THUMPED a sole into Amara's crotch, drawing a distinct look of discomfort. With the foot planted, Lenore increased the pain as she leeeaaaaaned back, pressing the foot harder against Singh's sex. Her legs stretched and extended, it's hard to shake the limbs too much and Lenore kept the clamps AND FOOT in place far longer than Amara would have liked, Singh swallowed mewls for several long seconds until she grabbed onto the extra padding on the 'walls' of the mat with her fingers and tried to pull her way free of the grips. Finally tugging herself loose, Lenore's oily fingers betraying her, Singh freed herself and quickly pulled herself into a kneel, tucking her throbbing crotch behind the bony joints. She tried to rise but the pain put her back on her knees and she motioned Lenore to come in and create some close quarters fighting where her curves could hold sway.
Lenore was quick to her knees, though she paused for a moment to tuck some hair behind her ears. "That's just the beginning, Amara." she promised. "You're going to pay for humiliating me on the beach. Doing it in one of your favorite matches is just a bonus." With that she came forward, the Courtier holding both hands out in front to defend against early aggression from the Bollywood Bombshell. This proved fortuitous, as Amara did try to swipe at the American's face the instant she was in range. Lenore blocked the first attempt, cried out when Singh got through with a smack to her face. Spirited hand fighting ensued, the contrasting brunettes twisting and turning in an attempt to secure a stronger grip on her rival. Aware that a straight power assault against Singh was unlikely to go in her favor, Lemarchand squirmed to her tush again, only this time she brought her legs up in search of the Empress's glistening waist.
Relieved Lenore acceded to join her, the Raven dropping off her feet to knee-walk in close, Amara shot her hands out to grapple with the approaching peasant. Slippery hands grabbed and twisted and Singh worked enough of an opening to send a retaliatory CRAAACJK across Lenore's face. Amara, feeling a bit better below, forced forward, walking on her knees and sending Lemarchand backward. Feeling a sense of dominance, Amara continued the march, sending Lenore to her back side under her strength. "Do you understand how close the mount is?" Amara assured as she got Lenore leaning backward. Her foe's face not far away, Amara continued forward until, from the side, Lenore's legs close around the side of her golden-brown midriff. Pressing in from the side, Lenore's thighs pulsing, Amara's teeth clenched as the Scissors bit into her. If she could slip through the limbs a mount of the peasant's face wasn't far and she could feel her ribs starting to slide through. But as she nearly escaped, a knee slipped over the coated plastic mat and she turned sideways, letting Lenore's Scissors send their crushing power into her gut and spine, intensifying the pain and making her escape much farther with her knees no longer beneath her.
Lenore turned with her opponent, slipping onto one side to better keep the pressure on her Scissors. Seeking the first opportunity to really show Singh what she was in for, Lemarchand reached over with one hand, grabbed hold of the former champion's left nipple and gave it a hard twist! This was followed by a matching twist for the right nub, and a single SLAP to the face when Amara reached to intervene. "You're going to regret making this challenge, Singh." Lenore was back to punishing golden tummy with her strong thighs. "Your whole ascendancy started at my expense and if I can't take it back, I can at least show you what happens to women who humiliate me!" She braced her hands against the floor, pushed up and squeeeeeeeeezed again.
Amara pressed her palms into the spongy mat and the oily plastic on top, trying to backtrack her way out from between the pressing flesh of the peasant. Her feet tried to gain traction below and add to the effort but they slid uselessly over. A tightening of the glistening ivory sinew of Lenore's legs gnawed at the abdominal walls of the Empress, breaking down the strength of her muscles, compressing, forcing a burst of breath from the coated Singh. As Lenore pressed up on her palms to add crushing power, a wincing, mewling Amara slid a little both up and down Lenore's legs, but couldn’t go upward and out, her foe's locked ankles proving without a key. She tried to pry her arms within those powerful gams but found the going nearly impossible. Singh's man-servants looked worried as they could see the pinch of pain growing on her flawless features.
Sensing Amara's growing distress, Lenore reached out, grabbed a handful of hair and SPLUNKED her forehead into the oil once, twice, three times! It's not a match ending tactic by any means, but it did shift Singh entirely onto her belly, which made it that much easier for Lenore to slide in perpendicular to her foe's hips. Smiling brightly as Amara wriggled in her vise, Lenore casually raked a claw down the Empress's back, then grabbed the already loosened string of her bikini top and pulled it away! Once she'd tossed it to an unoccupied corner of the pit, the Raven flattened her other hand into a paddle and SLAPPED Singh's golden glutes no less than half a dozen times! "You're wearing down, Amara." Lenore chided. "Do you want to cede before this goes any further?"
"To a peasant?" Singh asked to Lenore, though there's more than a hint of inflection in Amara's voice, she's asking herself. As if to remind Amara the offer had a limited time, Lenore tightened her Scissors, forcing an 'ooophh' from the wriggling Empress. "You take my top and disrespect me, then spank me like I AM a servant. And expect you will not be punished?" Singh dug her nails into the oily plastic and tried to pull forward, her only viable escape route. Though slick, her tummy and back were well-swallowed within Lenore's pressing thighs, the skin becoming increasingly tacky as the oil was pushed out from the pressure. "NO!" she finally shouted, frustrated and responding more directly. She turned her body as best she could to try and swing at Lenore's lower limbs but could barely manage small slaps that received stinging rebukes to her backside from the Raven.
Lenore squeezes that much harder in the wake of Amara's growing frustration and after several more spanks to her squirming rump she returned her focus to Singh's hair, the Courtier pulling it back from the other woman's face in an oily topknot. "You threw sand in my eyes, dunked me in the ocean, then tried to break me in half!" Lenore scowled as she jerked Amara's head back n' forth. "Then you flipped me over and buried me under your ass even after I'd submitted! This is payback, Amara. A peasant uprising, if you will!" On the heels of that she slapped, only this time she went at the heavier woman's face, just swatting and teasing the former champ with every blow.
The Scissors and the fight to escape it draining her by the second combined with the lack of friction on the mat proving a huge hindrance to any escape route, compounded with the earful the Raven constantly provided left Singh close to capitulation. But a few further slaps to her stinging derriere and then the resentful claps of her flawless face returned the hateful ire to her heart. "No peasant will ever come to India and best me in front of my own people!" Amara took up another struggle, but this is was weakened one and the chins of the servants hung low, her many fans silenced by the usurper.
Lenore curled a finger into the side of Amara's mouth and pulled, punishing her with a wicked fishook! Letting it go after several seconds, the Raven scrubbed the Empress's features against the floor one more time, then turned her attention to those oil-soaked white briefs. "Oh, they may be your people, but they're about to be my fans!" With that she helped herself to Singh's waistband and punished her with a cheek-splitting wedgie! The punishment went on for a good fifteen seconds before Lenore loosened the Scissors enough to use the thong handle to roll Singh onto her back. Finally sliding out from beneath the breathless battler, Lenore swung one long ivory stem over Amara's torso and settled down, the curve of her glutes holding Singh's chin steady. "A shame I couldn't wrestle you for the Eurasian title." Lemarchand huffed. "I'll settle for this!" She pushed up and scooted backward, those dark trunks heading for Amara's trapped visage!
Staring down ivory backside, Amara's veneer crumbled. After trying one last time to buck the perfectly planted Lenore off her to absolutely no effect save to leave her legs trapped within the Raven's wings, Lemarchand encircling the golden-brown stems behind the knees and pulling them into a tight cradle with her arms, Amara pleaded her surrender. "Don't. Please Lenore. Not in front of my sister. I...ummmppphhh." Amara's face and nose went under as a smirking Lemarchand backed her ass up to make the Empress the throne of a peasant. Singh pressed her palms to Lenore's hips and gamely tried to push, but her hands slid over the slippery alabaster skin of the domineering Lemarchand, the Raven perching heavily on Singh's face after her long flight to the subcontinent.
Lenore pressed the soles of her feet against the sides of Singh's head, making sure there's nowhere for the Golden Empress to turn. Adjusting her grip on Amara's thighs to stack the distressed lovely even tighter on her shoulders, the Raven works her hips in taut little figure eights, Lemarchand administering a serious butt buffing to the warrior who'd humiliated her on the beach two summers prior. "I may not be able to take a title from around your waist, so I'll just have to leave you with something to remember me by." She flattens her hands one more time and channeled her inner Dream for a Bittersweet Bollywood Butt Bongos, Lenore spanking out a blockbuster beat on the jostling, rapidly pinking cheeks of her breathless foe.
Eventually Amara added a beat of her own, though it took Lenore a bit to realize the Empress was signaling her surrender." Tossing her legs away with a flourish, the Courtier pushed up on her knees and slid back just enough to pinch her prey's nostrils while freeing her mouth from that sweltering undercarriage. "You give, Amara?"
Singh gasped for several seconds. "Yuuuhhh.... yes. I concede. Now get off."
"Who's queen of the oil pit?" Lenore clenched her cheeks, a nasty pinch to the Empress's nose.
"YOU ARE!" Amara keened in a nasal tone she hated.
Lenore pushed off, planted a foot on either side of Amara's head and waggled her hips, the excess oil pattering off to douse the former queen in a miniature rainstorm.
Less than twenty-four hours after the clip was posted, an incensed Bollywood Bombshell challenged the Raven to another Oil Match, this time at March to War. Lemarchand promptly accepted her challenge, as well as another oil bout against Jasmine Washington at a House Show in Ocala.
JASMINE WASHINGTON:
Jasmine bridged her hips again, forcing Lenore to adjust the angle of her right leg so that the bulk of it was still snugged to her opponent’s tummy. It worked as it had before, the warm, heavy weight of the Raven’s oil-slicked thigh acting as a blanket that kept J-Dogg flat on her back. Not as immediately effective as a true Bodyscissors alas, but Washington had proven remarkably adept at escaping such predicaments over the last twenty minutes and thus forced Lemarchand to seek other tactics to subdue the tenacious battler.
“Leggo of me, bytch.” Jasmine growled as she tried to free her hands from the other brunette’s white-knuckled grasp.
LENORE LEMARCHAND:
Lenore only shook her head and forced Washington’s wrists that much closer together. Daring to relinquish half the grip, she flattened her left hand into a paddle tugged Jazzy’s hair before slapping her face. “You want out, dog breath? Do it yourself.” She punctuated with several more slaps: her short, crisp delivery meant to infuriate as well as drain.
Taste removed from her mouth after several violent turns of her head following each palm to the cheek, Jasmine caught Lenore's left arm around the wrist to halt the barrage. This also meant she had no available hands with which to push to a seat or to assist her locomotion across the baby oil coating of the plastic-sheathed cushioning making up FAWN's makeshift 'pit'. Wriggling her cafe-au-lait hued booty from side to side, Washington tried to work Lenore's ivory lower limb off her midriff, but it wasn’t working. Then the bytch raised the alabaster leg high, pointing it to the rafters before swinging it down like a guillotine. The stem SLAMMED into Jasmine's glistening tummy, drawing a breathy gasp, oxygen she couldn't afford to lose this far into the battle. She'd already lasted longer than Amara against the woman FAWNatics had taken to calling the Oil Baroness, but how much would that matter if the Raven stayed perched atop her all night? The thought provided the fuel to force a further attempt to slip out from under before the 'blade' falls again.
Jasmine surged up as Lemarchand’s leg came down and though she didn’t quite clear the gut-crushing trap, she actually did it one better as her raised knees provided a most unpleasant landing for Lenore’s thigh! Cursing as the jolt shivered her leg from toe to hip, Lenore lost her grip on Washington’s wrists and instinctually rolled away to create some distance. Coming up on all fours as Jasmine finally made it to a seat, Lenore rose up on her knees and tucked some oil-drenched hair behind her ears.
“Not bad for Kylie’s latest stooge.” she chided. “Ready to go? Or do you need some more time to catch your breath?”
“You callin’ me a stooge? YOU, the chick that kisses Emily’s ass so often it should be a drinking game?” Ignoring the breathless ache in her midsection, J-Dogg got to her knees and made a show of ‘flicking’ her slick bottoms into place. Then she raised her hands and beckoned Lenore forward. “Get your skinny ass over here, nerd. I’m about to kick it up between your shoulders!”
Lemarchand smirked and started forward. “An impressive trick, considering it’s about to engulf your face.”
Each oil-drenched woman was good as her word, torsos slamming together in a clapping THWACK. Fingers laced between the combatants and each leaned in for leverage, chins ending on a nape of the neck of either bikini-clad beauty. With her lower and bigger center of gravity proving an effective anchor, Jasmine started to put a bend in the back of the grimacing Raven, perfect pearlies gritting as Lemarchand tried to hold back the power play. But once leaning in reverse, it became nearly inevitable Washington would lean more and more of Lenore's thighs atop her calves.
"Fold you and put you away wet," Jasmine purred between deep grunting breaths. "I'll give that Bollywood Buffoon the road she can take to her revenge then I'll leave her a slippery mess...like you."
Grimacing as Washington bent her backward over her own stems, Lenore worked to wrest her hands free of the other woman’s clutches, though she made no effort to get her shoulders off the pit floor. “You’re the only mess in this ring, Jazzy.” Lemarchand huffed as J-Dogg slid into a rude straddle of her hips. “Following orders from Andrews and Sanders like they’re out for anyone but themEEEEEERRRGGGHHHH!”
Jasmine pinned Lenore’s wrists overhead in identical fashion to what she’d so recently endured, then balled her free hand into a fist and PWAAAKED the Courtier’s taut belly once, twice, three times! “I may follow orders, but I’m no one’s pawn. More than I can say of you, bird brain.” With that she formed her fist into a talon and applied it directly to the curve of her opponent’s left breast.
The feeling of control shooting adrenaline through her body, Jasmine sank her ruby-tipped nails (matching her suit) into the thin covering over Lenore's modest bounty. Clenching her palm and reveling in the pain in Lemarchand's dark eyes, Washington scooted farther up Lenore's frame just south of her handholds, the better to press straight down on the breast while shredding it. Sliding up the greased body also brought her booty closer to its intended target, though Wash had to let Lenore's legs unfold in the process, giving up that advantage to move toward securing one with more match-ending potential. Her left hand free, Jasmine piefaced the Raven, pressing her foe's face to the side so she doesn't have a satisfactory field of vision from which to tell where the next step to her oily downfall might come.
Planting her feet even as Jasmine’s hand reduced her view to nothing but a confused glimpse of the pit, Lemarchand actually managed a pretty impressive bridge, unfortunately it only gave Washington the impetus to slide even farther north.
“Oh yeah, lemme see that face, geek!” Snatching a handful of the Courtier’s hair, Jasmine twists Lenore’s head back to start, all the better to wedge opposing chin against the fork of her crotch. “Gotcha pinned, baby. One! Two! Three! Ya done!” Jasmine punctuated each number with a hard bounce on Lenore’s chest. “Ohhhhhhhh wait. That’s right, pins don’t count in here, do they?” Smiling malevolently, she reached down and back, adjusting her perch so she could secure a gentle pincer grip on Lemarchand’s nubs. “Guess I’ll just have to make you quit.”
Beneath her, Lenore curled her own talons into the Hotlanta Warrior’s thighs and raaaaaaaaaked, albeit to little effect. “Do your worst, bytch.”
"My best," Jasmine grunted, "is coming." The glistening dusky warrior huffed as she slid her crotch over the twisting head of the Raven. "Keep still," she added, removing her pincer to control the side-to-side shake of the Black Courtier's noggin. J-Dogg thrust her pelvis forward and dat ass comes along for the ride. Jazzy's privates fit snugly to flaring nostrils as Lenore's lips go deeper beneath. "Oil Baronness, my ass," Jasmine shouted for anyone in the front rows to hear. "This pit is mine."
Closing the thighs of her folded legs tight to Lemarchand's cheeks, her lower legs bracketing the Raven's temples, Jasmine prepared to make her last fateful scoot to cover Lenore's face in full and ride out the slippery bucking at the end of which she'd claim her trophy.
Painfully aware that she was heartbeats away from an extremely humiliating setback, Lenore shifted her hands up and pushed, bracing them against Jasmine’s tummy to stop her approach in mid-slide. “Nuh-uh, geek.” J-Dogg muttered as she laid claim to Lenore’s wrists. “That ain’t gonna save NNNGGGHHHHH!”
Lemarchand brought both knees up and in, just THUMPING them into the small of Washington’s back! The jolt of it for Jasmine to straighten up, which in turn gave the Raven another chance to bring her legs into play, only this time she slid them under her attacker’s biceps. With her calves pressed against the other brunette’s shoulders, Lemarchand kicked forward and simultaneously bucked her hips in hopes of taking Jasmine to the floor with an especially oily Sunset Flip.
The pain in Jasmine's flawless features from the jabbing kneecaps turned to shock when Lenore's ivory-hued stems kicked up again, this time scooting under Wash's arms. Lenore's legs hooking her guns, a wide-eyed Jazzy was ripped off her kneeling straddle and sent tumbling backward, landing on her back and shoulders. A *squersh* of baby oil forced out from beneath the flattened Badass from Hotlanta. The cushioning of the pit lessened the impact against her spine but Lemarchand was attached in the flipping of positions and her ass dug into the cafe-au-lait colored tummy of J-Dogg when she ended on top, the script duly flipped, the look in Washington's dark eyes one of worried disbelief. Immediately, she tried to use the oil to her advantage and slip out from under before the Raven can solidify her new location.
But Lenore slid with her, Emily’s Lady in Waiting abandoning the potentially fight-winning straddle to ease her way back and down into a full body pin. Catching hold of Washington’s wrists after a few seconds of brief, furious hand fighting, Lemarchand pinned the smaller woman’s arms out at her sides, then worked her ankles beneath Jazzy’s heels and wrenched her legs apart. It wasn’t quite a Double Leg Grapevine, but it didn’t stop Lenore from rising up and dropping down, the limber hardbody smooshing some of the fight from her rival with a miniature Splash. She liked the feeling so much she repeated it a few more times, Lemarchand using the slim-thick weight of that sinewy midsection to batter the defiance from her smaller opponent.
Finally sliding her hooks up enough to really wreeeeeennnnnnnnnnch J-Dogg’s gams apart, Lenore pushed up and set Washington to hot n’ bothered with a tawdry trunk to trunk grind. “Ready to quit, honey?”
Teeth clenched tight, Jasmine tried to twist out from under the oppressive mass of the arrogant emissary from Da Man but with her legs expertly spread, it's nigh impossible to gather any sustained movement beyond the squirming of her torso and head. Lenore rose again and splashed down, forcing a husky exhale from J-Dogg, her body flattened beneath the infuriating bytch. "You'll be the one quitUHHH..."
Lemarchand lowered the body boom another time, forcing more oxygen from Jasmine's lungs. Wash strained to rip her arms free and use them to counter but this far into the fight, they feel leaden in Lenore's white-knuckle grips. Wondering why she hadn't taken this tact instead of going immediately for the 'kill' straddle/smother, Jazzy ground from side to side, accomplishing little but wearing herself out more and faster.
Lenore let the Hotlanta Badass wriggle and squirm, though occasionally she hoisted herself up just high enough to THWHUMP Jasmine against the floor of the oil pit with another heavy Splash. After the last of these she pressed her cheek to Washington’s and forced her head to the side just so she could put her lips to the other brunette’s cheek and purr, “I’m not sure I’m on board with this whole ‘Oil Baroness’ nickname just yet, but crushing you against the floor? I could do that all night long.”
“Kuuuhhh…. kiss my ass!” Wash groaned as she used more and more energy to escape the Raven’s encroachment. “You’re gonna EEERRRRRRRRHHHHHHHHHH!”
Lenore suddenly sat up and leaned back, forcing Jasmine’s arms against her sides in the process. In the next instant she slid up into another straddle, one that pinned J-Dogg’s hands tight to her sides. With both hands free to do their wicked work, Lemarchand slipped them under the crimson cups of Washington’s top and began to squeeeeeeeeeze.
Gassed from the body to body pounding of moments before, Lenore tenderizing her, Washington could manage little in the way of pushback when the Raven shot to her perch from the full-framed pin. Seated on Jasmine's midriff, with J-Dogg's arms glued to her sides, Lemarchand ravaged Jasmine's gurls wickedly, drawing howls of protest. Her legs no longer grapevined, Jasmine tried to buck for her freedom, but her aching abs won't allow anything but the weakest crunches and they couldn’t overcome Lenore's anchored position. Lemarchand dug her nails in deeper and Jasmine shrieked in anguish. The oil that had let each woman slip out of advantages early on, wasn't enough any more.
"Kylie!" Jazzy sobbed.
"You forgot?" Lenore purrs. "You're the one that demanded the Court be banned in return for Sanders' banishment. Good deal for you. Just not good enough."
Sensing her opponent’s once firm curves growing softer and softer, Lemarchand began to intersperse her clawing with hard Butt Bumps, the Raven pushing up for a moment, then WHUMPING the medicine ball curve of her glutes into J-Dogg’s defenseless midsection. This tactic continued for the better part of twenty seconds, until Jasmine’s legs were barely twitching with each impact and she could only mutter vague protests against the indignity of the claw.
Satisfied she’d brought Kylie’s new Badass to heel, Lemarchand suddenly knee-walked up Wash’s splayed frame turned a half circle directly above her head. Using one hand to point Jasmine’s face toward the ceiling, Lenore said, “Amara had the same surprised look on her face. It’s incredibly satisfying.” She sat down, burying the other brunette in buttocks from forehead to chin. The crowd cheered quite enthusiastically for the domineering mount, yet the Courtier wasn’t entirely happy with Jasmine’s breathless scrabbling against her briefs. Deciding on a bit of old school FAWN’ing that was sure to get the Empress’s attention, she relieved J-Dogg of her top, then took her nipples between thumb and forefinger and twisted like she was in search of radio stations on different ends of the dial. “TAP!” she demanded even in the midst of sweeping her buns back n’ forth of Jazzy’s protesting features.
Deflated and desperate even before Lenore placed her in the humid, satiny and heavy darkness of her thinly sheathed crack, a now withering Jasmine weakly scored the Raven's thighs to find an escape hatch. She's punished for her efforts, Lenore plucking her foe's oil-soaked, red and now nearly translucent bikini top from her chest. Jazzy could feel the sting of her nipples used as painful playthings. She yelped into Lenore's pressing privates, knowing only she and perhaps Lemarchand could hear the muffled sobs.
On the opposite end of the spectrum, even in her oxygen-deprived, hazy state, the demand from Lenore breaks through. "TAP" the Raven ordered as she starts to scour Jasmine's buried features. And tap was exactly what Jasmine chose to do, beating out her surrender of the soft, oily sponge of the pit floor, hoping to trade a loss for the end of any further humiliation.
A referee (safely outside the confines of the pit) noted the capitulation and called for the bell, though Lenore didn’t release with the CLANG or even the announcement of her name. Instead she redoubled her efforts on the pincer and pulled up, distending Jasmine’s gurls in extremely painful fashion. “On my ass, J-Dogg! Do it!”
Gurgling with hatred and disgust, Wash did as she was bade, swatting at Lenore’s domineering derriere until the Raven released her bounty. Even then she didn’t get up, the victorious Courtier choosing to spread her knees a little wider as she forced Jasmine to carry her weight. “You thought Mumbai was an embarrassment, Amara?” she told a camera that pulled in close. “Just wait ‘til the world doesn’t have to rely on crappy camera phone footage of me treating you like a peasant in the oil! See you at March to War, bytch!”
Not one to be outdone, Amara challenged Mariel McGinty to an Oil Match, not only to serve warning to Lenore, but to avenge the Exotic Empress’s defeat in the Queens of the Ring Tag Tournament. The following clip details the last several minutes from their contest in Tampa this past weekend…
MARIEL MCGINTY:
Phones rung off hooks for Mariel McGinty since she became a Queen of the Ring along with her fellow Leggs, Inc. superstar Valerie Stipanovic. And truth be told, the slender Amazon from Slippery Rock had been unwilling to pass on any opportunity.
Ten minutes into tonight’s battle and she’s beginning to understand that each opportunity was not equal in its risk/benefit ratio. The long-limbed blonde was finding the oil pit a significant deterrent to many of her leggy endeavors and her lanky strength neutralized by being on knees and prostrate as much as vertical.
It didn’t help the woman beginning to treat her like a rag doll, scissoring her mercilessly from behind with an increasingly tight Full Nelson locked in, forcing her chin to her oily chest, was working out her considerable frustrations like she meant to leave Mariel an ivory-skinned, glistening mop.
It wasn’t lost on the towering but toppled blonde, Amara Singh was wrecking her with her copper-colored thighs, the Empress’ shorter but powerful stems digging into her the flesh just over her hips. The one way she could bring her weapons to bear in the oil and the sadistic Singh was grinding her down in just that fashion.
AMARA SINGH:
The growling Amara rotated to McGinty’s side, giving up her Nelson but shifting her Scissors to a more devastating position, one CRUSHING the blonde’s tummy and backbone. Mariel gasped as the pressure-filled pain in her abdomen grows. She pried then shoves at Amara’s locked legs, trying to find an escape.
Clearly delighted by the taller woman’s pain, Singh braced her hands against the floor of the pit and hoisted herself up by a good three to four inches. “You don’t look like much of a queen at the moment, do you?” she taunted. “Don’t feel like one either. What do you feel like, I wonder? A hapless, scrabbling PEASANT, perhaps?” The Golden Empress emphasized her observation with another crushing constriction of Mariel’s slender core.
Gritting her teeth against the growing pressure, McGinty braced her own hands and managed to sit up enough to lock eyes with her opponent. “Still feeling pretty regal, Amara.” she grunted. “Certainly better than you felt after we NNNGHHH!”
Amara dropped to her butt so she could CRAAACK a hard slap across the blonde’s oil-shiny cheek. “No partner to help you tonight, brat. Just you and your plaintive screamNGH!”
McGinty slapped her right back, the proof of her deceptive power in the sharp twist of Singh’s head and the patter of droplets tossed from her dark locks. “I don’t need Val to kick your ass, Empress.” Mariel taunted. “Just one opportunity to get my legs around your waisSSEEERROOOOOHHHHH GAAAAAAAWWWD!”
Amara hunched forward, curled her right hand into a claw and affixed it between the leggy wrestler’s thighs. “There’s only ONE opportunity available for you tonight, peasant.” Singh sneered as she clawed her foe’s undercarriage. “To serve as a warning for that hateful little Raven. Tell her how this feels, won’t you?” She bore down on the claw again, the former Eurasian Champion nodding with sadistic delight as Mariel thrashed and squealed.
A motivated McGinty thrashed wildly within the oily lower limbs of her foe, the shooting pain from her crotch sending signals of both fight, flight and, failing either, surrender. But in order to get close enough to dig a mitt into her thinly-sheathed privates, Amara was in range and McGinty BANGED a pointed elbow into Singh's jaw. Relief washed over the greasy blonde as Amara flopped to her back, the jawjacked Empress seeing stars instead of fulfilled plans to end Legs.
For her part, Mariel collapsed around her still aching center, but pushed off the pit floor to make some space. Ending on her back as Amara shook out a cobweb or two, McGinty gave herself a quick massage and lifted her long stems as defensive staffs, the limbs keeping an approaching Amara at bay. Singh grabbed at the ankles, trying to gain possession of Mariel's legs, but the oil made it difficult with McGinty's thrusts and thrashing. Singh decided she needed to get through the extended legs and dove on the torso of the black bikini-ed blonde to push her advantage. But in trying, the Indian was skewered by McGinty, Mariel digging a forceful stomp to Amara's midriff. A doubled, gasping Singh felt Mariel's infamous stems slip around her and the leggy blonde pulled her down between. Singh tried to anchor but the oil on plastic wasn’t conducive. She tumbled atop Mariel but much lower than she wanted, her bronzed midriff now between the steely alabaster thighs.
Turnabout was indeed fair play.
Mariel couldn’t help but smile as her first constriction forced a surprised ‘OOOOFFFHH!’ from Amara’s puffed lips. “Yeah, you’re feeling that now, aren’t ya?” Leaned back on her elbows, the blonde loosened her grip for a moment, then applied it more forcefully than before, those long stems just gouging into the bronzed expanse of Singh’s flanks.
Refusing to answer the American’s taunt, Amara scrabbled her way to all fours, then reared back on her haunches and lit up McGinty’s stomach with a brisk overhand slap. “Release me, peasant!” she demanded. “End this farce before I’m forced to NNNNNNNGGGGHHHH!”
No smile from Mariel now, she mirrored Amara’s early butt-lifted position to pour a whole lotta fight-stopping power through those vaunted stems. “Call me a peasant one more time, Amara.” she said quietly. “And I’ll be happy to take your place against Lenore while you’re nursing these bruised ribs.”
Features pinched in pain and concentration, Singh raaaaaaaaaaaked at McGinty’s long thighs alas she got nothing but another hard squeeze for her efforts. Nauseated not just by the Scissors but at the thought of losing a second Oil Match, the Golden Empress knotted her hands in a single fist, raised them high overhead and “UUUUUGGGGHHH!”
Mariel stopped the Double Axehandle with her strongest squeeze yet, the force of it doubling Singh over in gutshot distress. Nodding her appreciation as she began to understand just what she could do in the confines of this pit, McGinty crunched forward, wrapped her arms around the back of Amara’s head and pulled her down into a cheek-on-chest grind. Jugg Shock wasn’t the end goal of course, Mariel just wanted to keep Singh close, cranky and confined while those loooooooooooooong legs went about humbling the haughty Bollywood Bombshell.
The perpetually pouty lips of the Indian puffed, breaths forced out like a bellows as Mariel continued to up the ante. Not having to worry about her shoulders being on the oily plastic beneath her only made for more concentration being poured into her lethal scissors. And now she could wrap her arms around the back of Amara's ebony locks, tying her down even closer. "You thought this was just a workout," Mariel grunted. "just getting ready for Lenore." McGinty flexed her lower limbs again, drawing a shudder from the coppery frame of Singh. She forced a turn of Amara's head and stuffed the Bombshell's lips and nose into her modest cleavage, much more to say 'gotcha' than any thought of a smother. "But you thought the same thing in the QOR, dincha?" Mariel shook her head, sending oil from the tips of her matted locks flying. " I think you'll get it this time."
Trapped in the oxygen depriving grind of the blonde’s Scissors / Smother combo, Amara ‘got it’ far more than she’d ever admit to the likes of a peasant like Mariel McGinty. Hard truth? Things had gone sideways. It wasn’t quite Mumbai just yet, but the brunette knew the opportunity for a rally was rapidly fading. Steadying her breath as best she could, Singh worked her head from side to side and after several seconds was able to free her face from Mariel’s chest. A small victory, one she built on by worming her hands under the American’s glistening back.
McGinty felt her opponent’s hands lock and frowned even as she sent another jolt through the Scissors. “No way a Hug’s going to get you out of this, Amara. Better to just WHOOOAAAAAHH!”
Grudging applause from those assembled as Singh reared back on her haunches with the tag specialist glued to her torso! From there Amara clambered to one knee, then back to her full height, the Golden Empress bellowing with delight despite the steely ache of her ribs.
Aware that her position was far more dangerous than only a moment prior, Mariel snatched hold of Singh’s hair and forced the Empress’s nose against her sternum, hoping to distract her long enough to bring them both “OOOOOOFFFFFFHHHH!” Amara rose up on tiptoes, then dropped forward and down to DRIVE McGinty into the oily floor with a desperation Spinebuster. Those damned Scissors finally popped open and Amara rolled free, the former Eurasian Champion stretched out beside her blonde adversary as they both drew in deep, ragged breaths.
Though the floor wasn’t thinly-covered plywood and thus didn’t supply as much of a pop on the landing, the collision was jarring enough for an escape. Unfortunately for the Empress, the toll Mariel could bring to bear with her endless stems accumulated quickly and the women laid side by side in tandem spreadeagles, covered from head to toe in translucent goo. And it's Mariel who answered the question 'who wants it more?' She rolled to her left, atop the gassed Singh, and began to mount the splayed Bollywood Bombshell, Amara having apparently used her remaining reserves to pull off the feat of strength.
But before the blue-eyed blonde could get her hips outside those of Singh's and push up to a straddle, Amara made the lower position the stronger one, strapping on a Scissors that's more about containing McGinty's movement. It pressed into the hips of the Incorporated blonde. Above, the Indian wrapped her left arm around the back of Mariel's neck and clamped down on a Guillotine Choke. As McGinty started to gurgle, a more confident glint returned to her dark eyes. "But that's just what you are, peasant," Singh huffed between desperate breaths that said otherwise, "You're practice.
Mariel slapped and swatted at the Bombshell’s thighs and when that didn’t produce the desired results she curled her hands into fists and pounded away at Singh’s flanks. It hardly felt pleasant, yet McGinty’s awkward mount meant they didn’t have nearly the sting of her previous efforts and Amara rode them out with little more than a grimace. Uncharacteristically quiet as she continued to work the Guillotine, Amara abruptly rolled over and sat up, effectively crawling into the taller wrestler’s lap with the body-bending hold still in place. Holding her tongue a bit longer, Singh bore down on both halves of the Guillotine for fifteen seconds before she snapped, “Surrender, peasant!”
Mariel waggled a finger ‘no’ and resumed punching at the Empress’s ribs. “You think this defiance proves anything?” Amara taunted. “It is nothing! Nothing save another reason for me to punish your insolence!”
Halving her control on the Front Facelock, Singh curled her hand into a claw, set it against McGinty’s lower back and raaaaaaaaaaaaaked her all the way to nape of the neck. She repeated it half a dozen times in the next several seconds and when the blonde still wouldn’t cede the contest, Singh grabbed hold of her trunks and did her damndest to pull them over Mariel’s head!
McGinty shrieks in pain from her wedged, homemade thong. With no way to defend against Singh's underhanded tactic, Mariel wrapped her arms around the coppery midriff of Singh and tightened. The cinching pressure acted as a Heimlich on Amara and she burst forth with a heavy exhale, eyes bulging. Singh played off the pressure, letting McGinty know her efforts are for naught when another closing of the noose around her waist cuts off her commentary. There's nothing more than grunts from each for several long seconds, as both shiny frames were pressed to their limits. Throwing caution, Amara released her choke and her wedgie and with Mariel occupied with the Bear Hug, the Bombshell had easy access to drop some battering blistering right forearms into the blonde's jaw. She did so a half-dozen times, until the whips of Mariel's noggin to the side were joined with lolls of her braincase on its return. Singh felt the embrace loosening and tried to slip up the stilled torso of the dazed near-six-footer.
Give McGinty credit, she summoned the last of her reserves and made Amara fight for every inch of oily ground. Unfortunately for Mariel, the Bollywood Bombshell stormed through all the resistance and in the end all of McGinty’s squirming amounted to a facedown sprawl with Amara seated heavily above the small of her back. Biting her bottom lip as she contemplated the peasant’s destruction, Amara helped herself to a double handful of blonde hair and scrubbed those pretty features against the floor of the pit until she was burbling with pain and panic!
“I believe our business is almost complete, you disgusting urchin.” Singh noted once she’d peeled some of the blonde’s hair from her hands. “The only thing that remains is for you to tell all the other peasants just who reigns supreme in this Oil Pit.” Leaning forward, she grabbed McGinty by the elbows and pulled back until the Tag Specialist’s arms were draped over her thighs. Feet set flat, Singh laced both hands over Mariel’s chin and REEEEEEEEEEEFED backward with a Camel Clutch that left the limber lovely gazing at the overhead lights.
“AAAAAAAAHHHHH GAAAAAAAAHHHHHHD! STAAAAAAAAHHPP!” she wailed as Amara tried to bend her into a perfect circle.
With Mariel's legs judiciously eliminated from the conversation and her arms captured by the Bollywood Bombshell, a glistening Singh reveled in the pleas of the lanky blonde. "More spine of yours to break," Singh threatened as she continued to yank farther and farther, Amara nearly in a bridge, McGinty's vertebrae in a torturous 'C' shape, Mariel's noggin nearly overturned. Her welled eyes send tears "up" her face as gravity pulled then toward her oil-sopped flaxen locks. "Who's better? Me or Lenore?" the Empress asked.
Given the circumstances, the answer is an easy one for a wrestler whose backbone seemed near the snapping point, "You are!" shouted McGinty.
"And do you..." Amara doesn't get the offer on the table before Mariel accepts, pleading "I GIVE UP. I GIIIIVE!"
Amara broke into a gloating smile as the bell clanged and the Announcer confirmed, “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner via submission… AMARA SINGH!”
Releasing the Chinlock only after she’d forced Mariel to ‘nod’ along with the proclamation, Singh hooked a Half Nelson and used it to roll the defeated blonde onto her back. Still grinning, Amara swung around in a smooth half circle and planted her gleaming, white-sheathed backside heavily atop McGinty’s upturned features.
“Lenore Lemarchand.” she huffed after several seconds of grind. “Did you not remember the humiliation you felt when I destroyed you on the sand? Apparently you do not, because that’s the ONLY reason I can imagine you’d release that… that…. FARCE of a contest from Mumbai. “You think you can humiliate me? You think you are worthy of the Empress? You may be a Raven in the Black Court but in the ring you’re nothing but a peasant! And in this Oil Pit?” Singh fell silent and waggled her hips, the increased pressure drawing a pitiable groan from Mariel McGinty. “In the oil you’re nothing but my throne.”
Amara squatted on her haunches in the corner of a ten by ten cushioned mat with bumpers on the side to keep the oil in place. She looked at a non-existent watch on her wrist. "As I thought, too scared she'd become the throne of an Empress."
AMARA SINGH:
A murmur from the small crowd of assembled spectators as Lenore appeared on the other side of the 'ring' and climbed inside. Clad in a short black silk robe, the Raven, undod the knot at the waist and slipped it off, revealing cheeky black & purple briefs and a matching bikini top done in a subtle feather pattern. "What's wrong, Amara? Afraid you can‘t win by anything other than default? Doesn’t make you a very good Empress, does it?”
Singh, in a white two piece that was no doubt meant to stir passions when it got covered in the greasy substance tilted her head. "I'm the queen of all I survey, including every venue a slender little stick such as yourself dares to enter." Singh's pearly whites widen, knowing Lenore wouldn't dare step in and take up the offer she'd made. "You've proven you can face me and talk, but not that you can fight me and win."
LENORE LEMARCHAND:
Lenore only looks at the former Eurasian champ for a second before she stepped up and climbed into Singh's slippery domain. Dropping into a similar crouch, she put her hands in the oil and carefully rubbed a layer into her arms and thighs, then stood up and smacked her backside with a slightly damp THWHAP! "I'm ready whenever you are, Empress. Just make sure to take a look around before the fight starts, because once it does, your kingdom belongs to me!"
Amara rose from her haunches and into a tensed position. She'd taken some minutes ahead of time to get accustomed to the environment, now she shined up her entire frame, wiping the oil over her body so Lenore would not have an easy handhold. Her attire went nearly sheer instantly and her golden-brown skin glistened. "You may frighten the uninitiated, but an Empress cannot be impressed by the likes of you." Not waiting for any cue, Singh moved forward and locked her hands into Lenore's shoulders, trying to rip her from side to side and send her tumbling into the oily tarp that covered the cushioned 'pit'.
Lenore grabbed at Amara's shoulder in one hand, then plunged the other into the Indian stunner's dark locks. Planting her feet on the floor of the pit was almost impossible, so rather than fight it she turned with Singh, the two battlers rotating through a sort of cumbersome slow dance as they pushed and shoved. Growing more confident every second she was on her feet, the Raven abruptly let go of Amara's shoulder and fetched her a CLAPPING slap across the cheek! Capitalizing on Singh's split second of wide-eyed 'how dare you!' surprise, Lemarchand smacked her again, then sank that hand into the former champ's left breast!
The sting of the first slap hurt almost as much as the disrespect showed her superior. A show Lenore would live to regret. When Amara returns to let Lenore know how she's force-fed another clap that swung her head to the side again. It's soon followed by the burning pain of her left breast being mauled. "Peasant!" Singh shrieked as Lenore squeezed tight. With two free hands, Singh decided to ignore the pain coming from her chest and slid her hands from Lenore's shoulders closer to her throat. Doing her best to link her hands around the Raven's neck, she started to throttle Lenore to find out if the Raven could be so disrespectful without an air supply.
"GRRRRRHHHHHHH!" Lenore's face twisted with concern as the Golden Empress sank in the blatant Stranglehold. Gritting her teeth to endure it as best she could, she pulled the other brunette's hair one more time, then doubled down on the breast claw. Amara growled in displeasure, but painful though the attack was, she could endure it far longer than Lemarchand could survive without breath. Admitting as much to herself a moment later, Lenore suddenly hooked her fingers over Amara's cups and jerked down! In the same breath she hooked a foot behind the Indian's right leg and surged forward, hoping to take them down into the oil for the first time!
Watching the dark eyes of Lenore bulge as she cinched her grip tighter around the Raven's throat drew a determined smirk from the full lips of the Empress. The sight was enough to mask the pain as Lenore continued to rip into her rack. Using the golden-brown gurls as handles, Lenore changed strategy with her grip, using them to steer Amara instead of punish and when the Raven slipped a foot behind one of Amara's, she effectively broke the choke as a tumbling Amara placed her palms down to cushion the blow and be instantly ready for a scramble in the pool once she's landed. The trip, executed by the Raven, left Amara on her back and vulnerable, but she tried to 'swim' to the side to get to her knees for a face-off.
Sucking in a deep breath as air returned to her lungs, Lenore's a step too slow to stop Amara's retreat, though she managed to grab hold of her ankles. Shifting position so that she's fully on her butt, Lemarchand slipped a foot between her opponent's thighs and wedged it against her crotch. "Choke on this, honey!" Lenore pushed forward with her foot and leaned back with everything else, the Raven stretching out as best she could to grind down her rival's reserves with the classic catfight tactic!
A look of concern could not be hidden on Amara's face as Lenore possessed both ankles and spread Singh's legs wide. With both women on their bums, the Raven's comfortably inside those of the Empress, she THUMPED a sole into Amara's crotch, drawing a distinct look of discomfort. With the foot planted, Lenore increased the pain as she leeeaaaaaned back, pressing the foot harder against Singh's sex. Her legs stretched and extended, it's hard to shake the limbs too much and Lenore kept the clamps AND FOOT in place far longer than Amara would have liked, Singh swallowed mewls for several long seconds until she grabbed onto the extra padding on the 'walls' of the mat with her fingers and tried to pull her way free of the grips. Finally tugging herself loose, Lenore's oily fingers betraying her, Singh freed herself and quickly pulled herself into a kneel, tucking her throbbing crotch behind the bony joints. She tried to rise but the pain put her back on her knees and she motioned Lenore to come in and create some close quarters fighting where her curves could hold sway.
Lenore was quick to her knees, though she paused for a moment to tuck some hair behind her ears. "That's just the beginning, Amara." she promised. "You're going to pay for humiliating me on the beach. Doing it in one of your favorite matches is just a bonus." With that she came forward, the Courtier holding both hands out in front to defend against early aggression from the Bollywood Bombshell. This proved fortuitous, as Amara did try to swipe at the American's face the instant she was in range. Lenore blocked the first attempt, cried out when Singh got through with a smack to her face. Spirited hand fighting ensued, the contrasting brunettes twisting and turning in an attempt to secure a stronger grip on her rival. Aware that a straight power assault against Singh was unlikely to go in her favor, Lemarchand squirmed to her tush again, only this time she brought her legs up in search of the Empress's glistening waist.
Relieved Lenore acceded to join her, the Raven dropping off her feet to knee-walk in close, Amara shot her hands out to grapple with the approaching peasant. Slippery hands grabbed and twisted and Singh worked enough of an opening to send a retaliatory CRAAACJK across Lenore's face. Amara, feeling a bit better below, forced forward, walking on her knees and sending Lemarchand backward. Feeling a sense of dominance, Amara continued the march, sending Lenore to her back side under her strength. "Do you understand how close the mount is?" Amara assured as she got Lenore leaning backward. Her foe's face not far away, Amara continued forward until, from the side, Lenore's legs close around the side of her golden-brown midriff. Pressing in from the side, Lenore's thighs pulsing, Amara's teeth clenched as the Scissors bit into her. If she could slip through the limbs a mount of the peasant's face wasn't far and she could feel her ribs starting to slide through. But as she nearly escaped, a knee slipped over the coated plastic mat and she turned sideways, letting Lenore's Scissors send their crushing power into her gut and spine, intensifying the pain and making her escape much farther with her knees no longer beneath her.
Lenore turned with her opponent, slipping onto one side to better keep the pressure on her Scissors. Seeking the first opportunity to really show Singh what she was in for, Lemarchand reached over with one hand, grabbed hold of the former champion's left nipple and gave it a hard twist! This was followed by a matching twist for the right nub, and a single SLAP to the face when Amara reached to intervene. "You're going to regret making this challenge, Singh." Lenore was back to punishing golden tummy with her strong thighs. "Your whole ascendancy started at my expense and if I can't take it back, I can at least show you what happens to women who humiliate me!" She braced her hands against the floor, pushed up and squeeeeeeeeezed again.
Amara pressed her palms into the spongy mat and the oily plastic on top, trying to backtrack her way out from between the pressing flesh of the peasant. Her feet tried to gain traction below and add to the effort but they slid uselessly over. A tightening of the glistening ivory sinew of Lenore's legs gnawed at the abdominal walls of the Empress, breaking down the strength of her muscles, compressing, forcing a burst of breath from the coated Singh. As Lenore pressed up on her palms to add crushing power, a wincing, mewling Amara slid a little both up and down Lenore's legs, but couldn’t go upward and out, her foe's locked ankles proving without a key. She tried to pry her arms within those powerful gams but found the going nearly impossible. Singh's man-servants looked worried as they could see the pinch of pain growing on her flawless features.
Sensing Amara's growing distress, Lenore reached out, grabbed a handful of hair and SPLUNKED her forehead into the oil once, twice, three times! It's not a match ending tactic by any means, but it did shift Singh entirely onto her belly, which made it that much easier for Lenore to slide in perpendicular to her foe's hips. Smiling brightly as Amara wriggled in her vise, Lenore casually raked a claw down the Empress's back, then grabbed the already loosened string of her bikini top and pulled it away! Once she'd tossed it to an unoccupied corner of the pit, the Raven flattened her other hand into a paddle and SLAPPED Singh's golden glutes no less than half a dozen times! "You're wearing down, Amara." Lenore chided. "Do you want to cede before this goes any further?"
"To a peasant?" Singh asked to Lenore, though there's more than a hint of inflection in Amara's voice, she's asking herself. As if to remind Amara the offer had a limited time, Lenore tightened her Scissors, forcing an 'ooophh' from the wriggling Empress. "You take my top and disrespect me, then spank me like I AM a servant. And expect you will not be punished?" Singh dug her nails into the oily plastic and tried to pull forward, her only viable escape route. Though slick, her tummy and back were well-swallowed within Lenore's pressing thighs, the skin becoming increasingly tacky as the oil was pushed out from the pressure. "NO!" she finally shouted, frustrated and responding more directly. She turned her body as best she could to try and swing at Lenore's lower limbs but could barely manage small slaps that received stinging rebukes to her backside from the Raven.
Lenore squeezes that much harder in the wake of Amara's growing frustration and after several more spanks to her squirming rump she returned her focus to Singh's hair, the Courtier pulling it back from the other woman's face in an oily topknot. "You threw sand in my eyes, dunked me in the ocean, then tried to break me in half!" Lenore scowled as she jerked Amara's head back n' forth. "Then you flipped me over and buried me under your ass even after I'd submitted! This is payback, Amara. A peasant uprising, if you will!" On the heels of that she slapped, only this time she went at the heavier woman's face, just swatting and teasing the former champ with every blow.
The Scissors and the fight to escape it draining her by the second combined with the lack of friction on the mat proving a huge hindrance to any escape route, compounded with the earful the Raven constantly provided left Singh close to capitulation. But a few further slaps to her stinging derriere and then the resentful claps of her flawless face returned the hateful ire to her heart. "No peasant will ever come to India and best me in front of my own people!" Amara took up another struggle, but this is was weakened one and the chins of the servants hung low, her many fans silenced by the usurper.
Lenore curled a finger into the side of Amara's mouth and pulled, punishing her with a wicked fishook! Letting it go after several seconds, the Raven scrubbed the Empress's features against the floor one more time, then turned her attention to those oil-soaked white briefs. "Oh, they may be your people, but they're about to be my fans!" With that she helped herself to Singh's waistband and punished her with a cheek-splitting wedgie! The punishment went on for a good fifteen seconds before Lenore loosened the Scissors enough to use the thong handle to roll Singh onto her back. Finally sliding out from beneath the breathless battler, Lenore swung one long ivory stem over Amara's torso and settled down, the curve of her glutes holding Singh's chin steady. "A shame I couldn't wrestle you for the Eurasian title." Lemarchand huffed. "I'll settle for this!" She pushed up and scooted backward, those dark trunks heading for Amara's trapped visage!
Staring down ivory backside, Amara's veneer crumbled. After trying one last time to buck the perfectly planted Lenore off her to absolutely no effect save to leave her legs trapped within the Raven's wings, Lemarchand encircling the golden-brown stems behind the knees and pulling them into a tight cradle with her arms, Amara pleaded her surrender. "Don't. Please Lenore. Not in front of my sister. I...ummmppphhh." Amara's face and nose went under as a smirking Lemarchand backed her ass up to make the Empress the throne of a peasant. Singh pressed her palms to Lenore's hips and gamely tried to push, but her hands slid over the slippery alabaster skin of the domineering Lemarchand, the Raven perching heavily on Singh's face after her long flight to the subcontinent.
Lenore pressed the soles of her feet against the sides of Singh's head, making sure there's nowhere for the Golden Empress to turn. Adjusting her grip on Amara's thighs to stack the distressed lovely even tighter on her shoulders, the Raven works her hips in taut little figure eights, Lemarchand administering a serious butt buffing to the warrior who'd humiliated her on the beach two summers prior. "I may not be able to take a title from around your waist, so I'll just have to leave you with something to remember me by." She flattens her hands one more time and channeled her inner Dream for a Bittersweet Bollywood Butt Bongos, Lenore spanking out a blockbuster beat on the jostling, rapidly pinking cheeks of her breathless foe.
Eventually Amara added a beat of her own, though it took Lenore a bit to realize the Empress was signaling her surrender." Tossing her legs away with a flourish, the Courtier pushed up on her knees and slid back just enough to pinch her prey's nostrils while freeing her mouth from that sweltering undercarriage. "You give, Amara?"
Singh gasped for several seconds. "Yuuuhhh.... yes. I concede. Now get off."
"Who's queen of the oil pit?" Lenore clenched her cheeks, a nasty pinch to the Empress's nose.
"YOU ARE!" Amara keened in a nasal tone she hated.
Lenore pushed off, planted a foot on either side of Amara's head and waggled her hips, the excess oil pattering off to douse the former queen in a miniature rainstorm.
Less than twenty-four hours after the clip was posted, an incensed Bollywood Bombshell challenged the Raven to another Oil Match, this time at March to War. Lemarchand promptly accepted her challenge, as well as another oil bout against Jasmine Washington at a House Show in Ocala.
JASMINE WASHINGTON:
Jasmine bridged her hips again, forcing Lenore to adjust the angle of her right leg so that the bulk of it was still snugged to her opponent’s tummy. It worked as it had before, the warm, heavy weight of the Raven’s oil-slicked thigh acting as a blanket that kept J-Dogg flat on her back. Not as immediately effective as a true Bodyscissors alas, but Washington had proven remarkably adept at escaping such predicaments over the last twenty minutes and thus forced Lemarchand to seek other tactics to subdue the tenacious battler.
“Leggo of me, bytch.” Jasmine growled as she tried to free her hands from the other brunette’s white-knuckled grasp.
LENORE LEMARCHAND:
Lenore only shook her head and forced Washington’s wrists that much closer together. Daring to relinquish half the grip, she flattened her left hand into a paddle tugged Jazzy’s hair before slapping her face. “You want out, dog breath? Do it yourself.” She punctuated with several more slaps: her short, crisp delivery meant to infuriate as well as drain.
Taste removed from her mouth after several violent turns of her head following each palm to the cheek, Jasmine caught Lenore's left arm around the wrist to halt the barrage. This also meant she had no available hands with which to push to a seat or to assist her locomotion across the baby oil coating of the plastic-sheathed cushioning making up FAWN's makeshift 'pit'. Wriggling her cafe-au-lait hued booty from side to side, Washington tried to work Lenore's ivory lower limb off her midriff, but it wasn’t working. Then the bytch raised the alabaster leg high, pointing it to the rafters before swinging it down like a guillotine. The stem SLAMMED into Jasmine's glistening tummy, drawing a breathy gasp, oxygen she couldn't afford to lose this far into the battle. She'd already lasted longer than Amara against the woman FAWNatics had taken to calling the Oil Baroness, but how much would that matter if the Raven stayed perched atop her all night? The thought provided the fuel to force a further attempt to slip out from under before the 'blade' falls again.
Jasmine surged up as Lemarchand’s leg came down and though she didn’t quite clear the gut-crushing trap, she actually did it one better as her raised knees provided a most unpleasant landing for Lenore’s thigh! Cursing as the jolt shivered her leg from toe to hip, Lenore lost her grip on Washington’s wrists and instinctually rolled away to create some distance. Coming up on all fours as Jasmine finally made it to a seat, Lenore rose up on her knees and tucked some oil-drenched hair behind her ears.
“Not bad for Kylie’s latest stooge.” she chided. “Ready to go? Or do you need some more time to catch your breath?”
“You callin’ me a stooge? YOU, the chick that kisses Emily’s ass so often it should be a drinking game?” Ignoring the breathless ache in her midsection, J-Dogg got to her knees and made a show of ‘flicking’ her slick bottoms into place. Then she raised her hands and beckoned Lenore forward. “Get your skinny ass over here, nerd. I’m about to kick it up between your shoulders!”
Lemarchand smirked and started forward. “An impressive trick, considering it’s about to engulf your face.”
Each oil-drenched woman was good as her word, torsos slamming together in a clapping THWACK. Fingers laced between the combatants and each leaned in for leverage, chins ending on a nape of the neck of either bikini-clad beauty. With her lower and bigger center of gravity proving an effective anchor, Jasmine started to put a bend in the back of the grimacing Raven, perfect pearlies gritting as Lemarchand tried to hold back the power play. But once leaning in reverse, it became nearly inevitable Washington would lean more and more of Lenore's thighs atop her calves.
"Fold you and put you away wet," Jasmine purred between deep grunting breaths. "I'll give that Bollywood Buffoon the road she can take to her revenge then I'll leave her a slippery mess...like you."
Grimacing as Washington bent her backward over her own stems, Lenore worked to wrest her hands free of the other woman’s clutches, though she made no effort to get her shoulders off the pit floor. “You’re the only mess in this ring, Jazzy.” Lemarchand huffed as J-Dogg slid into a rude straddle of her hips. “Following orders from Andrews and Sanders like they’re out for anyone but themEEEEEERRRGGGHHHH!”
Jasmine pinned Lenore’s wrists overhead in identical fashion to what she’d so recently endured, then balled her free hand into a fist and PWAAAKED the Courtier’s taut belly once, twice, three times! “I may follow orders, but I’m no one’s pawn. More than I can say of you, bird brain.” With that she formed her fist into a talon and applied it directly to the curve of her opponent’s left breast.
The feeling of control shooting adrenaline through her body, Jasmine sank her ruby-tipped nails (matching her suit) into the thin covering over Lenore's modest bounty. Clenching her palm and reveling in the pain in Lemarchand's dark eyes, Washington scooted farther up Lenore's frame just south of her handholds, the better to press straight down on the breast while shredding it. Sliding up the greased body also brought her booty closer to its intended target, though Wash had to let Lenore's legs unfold in the process, giving up that advantage to move toward securing one with more match-ending potential. Her left hand free, Jasmine piefaced the Raven, pressing her foe's face to the side so she doesn't have a satisfactory field of vision from which to tell where the next step to her oily downfall might come.
Planting her feet even as Jasmine’s hand reduced her view to nothing but a confused glimpse of the pit, Lemarchand actually managed a pretty impressive bridge, unfortunately it only gave Washington the impetus to slide even farther north.
“Oh yeah, lemme see that face, geek!” Snatching a handful of the Courtier’s hair, Jasmine twists Lenore’s head back to start, all the better to wedge opposing chin against the fork of her crotch. “Gotcha pinned, baby. One! Two! Three! Ya done!” Jasmine punctuated each number with a hard bounce on Lenore’s chest. “Ohhhhhhhh wait. That’s right, pins don’t count in here, do they?” Smiling malevolently, she reached down and back, adjusting her perch so she could secure a gentle pincer grip on Lemarchand’s nubs. “Guess I’ll just have to make you quit.”
Beneath her, Lenore curled her own talons into the Hotlanta Warrior’s thighs and raaaaaaaaaked, albeit to little effect. “Do your worst, bytch.”
"My best," Jasmine grunted, "is coming." The glistening dusky warrior huffed as she slid her crotch over the twisting head of the Raven. "Keep still," she added, removing her pincer to control the side-to-side shake of the Black Courtier's noggin. J-Dogg thrust her pelvis forward and dat ass comes along for the ride. Jazzy's privates fit snugly to flaring nostrils as Lenore's lips go deeper beneath. "Oil Baronness, my ass," Jasmine shouted for anyone in the front rows to hear. "This pit is mine."
Closing the thighs of her folded legs tight to Lemarchand's cheeks, her lower legs bracketing the Raven's temples, Jasmine prepared to make her last fateful scoot to cover Lenore's face in full and ride out the slippery bucking at the end of which she'd claim her trophy.
Painfully aware that she was heartbeats away from an extremely humiliating setback, Lenore shifted her hands up and pushed, bracing them against Jasmine’s tummy to stop her approach in mid-slide. “Nuh-uh, geek.” J-Dogg muttered as she laid claim to Lenore’s wrists. “That ain’t gonna save NNNGGGHHHHH!”
Lemarchand brought both knees up and in, just THUMPING them into the small of Washington’s back! The jolt of it for Jasmine to straighten up, which in turn gave the Raven another chance to bring her legs into play, only this time she slid them under her attacker’s biceps. With her calves pressed against the other brunette’s shoulders, Lemarchand kicked forward and simultaneously bucked her hips in hopes of taking Jasmine to the floor with an especially oily Sunset Flip.
The pain in Jasmine's flawless features from the jabbing kneecaps turned to shock when Lenore's ivory-hued stems kicked up again, this time scooting under Wash's arms. Lenore's legs hooking her guns, a wide-eyed Jazzy was ripped off her kneeling straddle and sent tumbling backward, landing on her back and shoulders. A *squersh* of baby oil forced out from beneath the flattened Badass from Hotlanta. The cushioning of the pit lessened the impact against her spine but Lemarchand was attached in the flipping of positions and her ass dug into the cafe-au-lait colored tummy of J-Dogg when she ended on top, the script duly flipped, the look in Washington's dark eyes one of worried disbelief. Immediately, she tried to use the oil to her advantage and slip out from under before the Raven can solidify her new location.
But Lenore slid with her, Emily’s Lady in Waiting abandoning the potentially fight-winning straddle to ease her way back and down into a full body pin. Catching hold of Washington’s wrists after a few seconds of brief, furious hand fighting, Lemarchand pinned the smaller woman’s arms out at her sides, then worked her ankles beneath Jazzy’s heels and wrenched her legs apart. It wasn’t quite a Double Leg Grapevine, but it didn’t stop Lenore from rising up and dropping down, the limber hardbody smooshing some of the fight from her rival with a miniature Splash. She liked the feeling so much she repeated it a few more times, Lemarchand using the slim-thick weight of that sinewy midsection to batter the defiance from her smaller opponent.
Finally sliding her hooks up enough to really wreeeeeennnnnnnnnnch J-Dogg’s gams apart, Lenore pushed up and set Washington to hot n’ bothered with a tawdry trunk to trunk grind. “Ready to quit, honey?”
Teeth clenched tight, Jasmine tried to twist out from under the oppressive mass of the arrogant emissary from Da Man but with her legs expertly spread, it's nigh impossible to gather any sustained movement beyond the squirming of her torso and head. Lenore rose again and splashed down, forcing a husky exhale from J-Dogg, her body flattened beneath the infuriating bytch. "You'll be the one quitUHHH..."
Lemarchand lowered the body boom another time, forcing more oxygen from Jasmine's lungs. Wash strained to rip her arms free and use them to counter but this far into the fight, they feel leaden in Lenore's white-knuckle grips. Wondering why she hadn't taken this tact instead of going immediately for the 'kill' straddle/smother, Jazzy ground from side to side, accomplishing little but wearing herself out more and faster.
Lenore let the Hotlanta Badass wriggle and squirm, though occasionally she hoisted herself up just high enough to THWHUMP Jasmine against the floor of the oil pit with another heavy Splash. After the last of these she pressed her cheek to Washington’s and forced her head to the side just so she could put her lips to the other brunette’s cheek and purr, “I’m not sure I’m on board with this whole ‘Oil Baroness’ nickname just yet, but crushing you against the floor? I could do that all night long.”
“Kuuuhhh…. kiss my ass!” Wash groaned as she used more and more energy to escape the Raven’s encroachment. “You’re gonna EEERRRRRRRRHHHHHHHHHH!”
Lenore suddenly sat up and leaned back, forcing Jasmine’s arms against her sides in the process. In the next instant she slid up into another straddle, one that pinned J-Dogg’s hands tight to her sides. With both hands free to do their wicked work, Lemarchand slipped them under the crimson cups of Washington’s top and began to squeeeeeeeeeze.
Gassed from the body to body pounding of moments before, Lenore tenderizing her, Washington could manage little in the way of pushback when the Raven shot to her perch from the full-framed pin. Seated on Jasmine's midriff, with J-Dogg's arms glued to her sides, Lemarchand ravaged Jasmine's gurls wickedly, drawing howls of protest. Her legs no longer grapevined, Jasmine tried to buck for her freedom, but her aching abs won't allow anything but the weakest crunches and they couldn’t overcome Lenore's anchored position. Lemarchand dug her nails in deeper and Jasmine shrieked in anguish. The oil that had let each woman slip out of advantages early on, wasn't enough any more.
"Kylie!" Jazzy sobbed.
"You forgot?" Lenore purrs. "You're the one that demanded the Court be banned in return for Sanders' banishment. Good deal for you. Just not good enough."
Sensing her opponent’s once firm curves growing softer and softer, Lemarchand began to intersperse her clawing with hard Butt Bumps, the Raven pushing up for a moment, then WHUMPING the medicine ball curve of her glutes into J-Dogg’s defenseless midsection. This tactic continued for the better part of twenty seconds, until Jasmine’s legs were barely twitching with each impact and she could only mutter vague protests against the indignity of the claw.
Satisfied she’d brought Kylie’s new Badass to heel, Lemarchand suddenly knee-walked up Wash’s splayed frame turned a half circle directly above her head. Using one hand to point Jasmine’s face toward the ceiling, Lenore said, “Amara had the same surprised look on her face. It’s incredibly satisfying.” She sat down, burying the other brunette in buttocks from forehead to chin. The crowd cheered quite enthusiastically for the domineering mount, yet the Courtier wasn’t entirely happy with Jasmine’s breathless scrabbling against her briefs. Deciding on a bit of old school FAWN’ing that was sure to get the Empress’s attention, she relieved J-Dogg of her top, then took her nipples between thumb and forefinger and twisted like she was in search of radio stations on different ends of the dial. “TAP!” she demanded even in the midst of sweeping her buns back n’ forth of Jazzy’s protesting features.
Deflated and desperate even before Lenore placed her in the humid, satiny and heavy darkness of her thinly sheathed crack, a now withering Jasmine weakly scored the Raven's thighs to find an escape hatch. She's punished for her efforts, Lenore plucking her foe's oil-soaked, red and now nearly translucent bikini top from her chest. Jazzy could feel the sting of her nipples used as painful playthings. She yelped into Lenore's pressing privates, knowing only she and perhaps Lemarchand could hear the muffled sobs.
On the opposite end of the spectrum, even in her oxygen-deprived, hazy state, the demand from Lenore breaks through. "TAP" the Raven ordered as she starts to scour Jasmine's buried features. And tap was exactly what Jasmine chose to do, beating out her surrender of the soft, oily sponge of the pit floor, hoping to trade a loss for the end of any further humiliation.
A referee (safely outside the confines of the pit) noted the capitulation and called for the bell, though Lenore didn’t release with the CLANG or even the announcement of her name. Instead she redoubled her efforts on the pincer and pulled up, distending Jasmine’s gurls in extremely painful fashion. “On my ass, J-Dogg! Do it!”
Gurgling with hatred and disgust, Wash did as she was bade, swatting at Lenore’s domineering derriere until the Raven released her bounty. Even then she didn’t get up, the victorious Courtier choosing to spread her knees a little wider as she forced Jasmine to carry her weight. “You thought Mumbai was an embarrassment, Amara?” she told a camera that pulled in close. “Just wait ‘til the world doesn’t have to rely on crappy camera phone footage of me treating you like a peasant in the oil! See you at March to War, bytch!”
Not one to be outdone, Amara challenged Mariel McGinty to an Oil Match, not only to serve warning to Lenore, but to avenge the Exotic Empress’s defeat in the Queens of the Ring Tag Tournament. The following clip details the last several minutes from their contest in Tampa this past weekend…
MARIEL MCGINTY:
Phones rung off hooks for Mariel McGinty since she became a Queen of the Ring along with her fellow Leggs, Inc. superstar Valerie Stipanovic. And truth be told, the slender Amazon from Slippery Rock had been unwilling to pass on any opportunity.
Ten minutes into tonight’s battle and she’s beginning to understand that each opportunity was not equal in its risk/benefit ratio. The long-limbed blonde was finding the oil pit a significant deterrent to many of her leggy endeavors and her lanky strength neutralized by being on knees and prostrate as much as vertical.
It didn’t help the woman beginning to treat her like a rag doll, scissoring her mercilessly from behind with an increasingly tight Full Nelson locked in, forcing her chin to her oily chest, was working out her considerable frustrations like she meant to leave Mariel an ivory-skinned, glistening mop.
It wasn’t lost on the towering but toppled blonde, Amara Singh was wrecking her with her copper-colored thighs, the Empress’ shorter but powerful stems digging into her the flesh just over her hips. The one way she could bring her weapons to bear in the oil and the sadistic Singh was grinding her down in just that fashion.
AMARA SINGH:
The growling Amara rotated to McGinty’s side, giving up her Nelson but shifting her Scissors to a more devastating position, one CRUSHING the blonde’s tummy and backbone. Mariel gasped as the pressure-filled pain in her abdomen grows. She pried then shoves at Amara’s locked legs, trying to find an escape.
Clearly delighted by the taller woman’s pain, Singh braced her hands against the floor of the pit and hoisted herself up by a good three to four inches. “You don’t look like much of a queen at the moment, do you?” she taunted. “Don’t feel like one either. What do you feel like, I wonder? A hapless, scrabbling PEASANT, perhaps?” The Golden Empress emphasized her observation with another crushing constriction of Mariel’s slender core.
Gritting her teeth against the growing pressure, McGinty braced her own hands and managed to sit up enough to lock eyes with her opponent. “Still feeling pretty regal, Amara.” she grunted. “Certainly better than you felt after we NNNGHHH!”
Amara dropped to her butt so she could CRAAACK a hard slap across the blonde’s oil-shiny cheek. “No partner to help you tonight, brat. Just you and your plaintive screamNGH!”
McGinty slapped her right back, the proof of her deceptive power in the sharp twist of Singh’s head and the patter of droplets tossed from her dark locks. “I don’t need Val to kick your ass, Empress.” Mariel taunted. “Just one opportunity to get my legs around your waisSSEEERROOOOOHHHHH GAAAAAAAWWWD!”
Amara hunched forward, curled her right hand into a claw and affixed it between the leggy wrestler’s thighs. “There’s only ONE opportunity available for you tonight, peasant.” Singh sneered as she clawed her foe’s undercarriage. “To serve as a warning for that hateful little Raven. Tell her how this feels, won’t you?” She bore down on the claw again, the former Eurasian Champion nodding with sadistic delight as Mariel thrashed and squealed.
A motivated McGinty thrashed wildly within the oily lower limbs of her foe, the shooting pain from her crotch sending signals of both fight, flight and, failing either, surrender. But in order to get close enough to dig a mitt into her thinly-sheathed privates, Amara was in range and McGinty BANGED a pointed elbow into Singh's jaw. Relief washed over the greasy blonde as Amara flopped to her back, the jawjacked Empress seeing stars instead of fulfilled plans to end Legs.
For her part, Mariel collapsed around her still aching center, but pushed off the pit floor to make some space. Ending on her back as Amara shook out a cobweb or two, McGinty gave herself a quick massage and lifted her long stems as defensive staffs, the limbs keeping an approaching Amara at bay. Singh grabbed at the ankles, trying to gain possession of Mariel's legs, but the oil made it difficult with McGinty's thrusts and thrashing. Singh decided she needed to get through the extended legs and dove on the torso of the black bikini-ed blonde to push her advantage. But in trying, the Indian was skewered by McGinty, Mariel digging a forceful stomp to Amara's midriff. A doubled, gasping Singh felt Mariel's infamous stems slip around her and the leggy blonde pulled her down between. Singh tried to anchor but the oil on plastic wasn’t conducive. She tumbled atop Mariel but much lower than she wanted, her bronzed midriff now between the steely alabaster thighs.
Turnabout was indeed fair play.
Mariel couldn’t help but smile as her first constriction forced a surprised ‘OOOOFFFHH!’ from Amara’s puffed lips. “Yeah, you’re feeling that now, aren’t ya?” Leaned back on her elbows, the blonde loosened her grip for a moment, then applied it more forcefully than before, those long stems just gouging into the bronzed expanse of Singh’s flanks.
Refusing to answer the American’s taunt, Amara scrabbled her way to all fours, then reared back on her haunches and lit up McGinty’s stomach with a brisk overhand slap. “Release me, peasant!” she demanded. “End this farce before I’m forced to NNNNNNNGGGGHHHH!”
No smile from Mariel now, she mirrored Amara’s early butt-lifted position to pour a whole lotta fight-stopping power through those vaunted stems. “Call me a peasant one more time, Amara.” she said quietly. “And I’ll be happy to take your place against Lenore while you’re nursing these bruised ribs.”
Features pinched in pain and concentration, Singh raaaaaaaaaaaked at McGinty’s long thighs alas she got nothing but another hard squeeze for her efforts. Nauseated not just by the Scissors but at the thought of losing a second Oil Match, the Golden Empress knotted her hands in a single fist, raised them high overhead and “UUUUUGGGGHHH!”
Mariel stopped the Double Axehandle with her strongest squeeze yet, the force of it doubling Singh over in gutshot distress. Nodding her appreciation as she began to understand just what she could do in the confines of this pit, McGinty crunched forward, wrapped her arms around the back of Amara’s head and pulled her down into a cheek-on-chest grind. Jugg Shock wasn’t the end goal of course, Mariel just wanted to keep Singh close, cranky and confined while those loooooooooooooong legs went about humbling the haughty Bollywood Bombshell.
The perpetually pouty lips of the Indian puffed, breaths forced out like a bellows as Mariel continued to up the ante. Not having to worry about her shoulders being on the oily plastic beneath her only made for more concentration being poured into her lethal scissors. And now she could wrap her arms around the back of Amara's ebony locks, tying her down even closer. "You thought this was just a workout," Mariel grunted. "just getting ready for Lenore." McGinty flexed her lower limbs again, drawing a shudder from the coppery frame of Singh. She forced a turn of Amara's head and stuffed the Bombshell's lips and nose into her modest cleavage, much more to say 'gotcha' than any thought of a smother. "But you thought the same thing in the QOR, dincha?" Mariel shook her head, sending oil from the tips of her matted locks flying. " I think you'll get it this time."
Trapped in the oxygen depriving grind of the blonde’s Scissors / Smother combo, Amara ‘got it’ far more than she’d ever admit to the likes of a peasant like Mariel McGinty. Hard truth? Things had gone sideways. It wasn’t quite Mumbai just yet, but the brunette knew the opportunity for a rally was rapidly fading. Steadying her breath as best she could, Singh worked her head from side to side and after several seconds was able to free her face from Mariel’s chest. A small victory, one she built on by worming her hands under the American’s glistening back.
McGinty felt her opponent’s hands lock and frowned even as she sent another jolt through the Scissors. “No way a Hug’s going to get you out of this, Amara. Better to just WHOOOAAAAAHH!”
Grudging applause from those assembled as Singh reared back on her haunches with the tag specialist glued to her torso! From there Amara clambered to one knee, then back to her full height, the Golden Empress bellowing with delight despite the steely ache of her ribs.
Aware that her position was far more dangerous than only a moment prior, Mariel snatched hold of Singh’s hair and forced the Empress’s nose against her sternum, hoping to distract her long enough to bring them both “OOOOOOFFFFFFHHHH!” Amara rose up on tiptoes, then dropped forward and down to DRIVE McGinty into the oily floor with a desperation Spinebuster. Those damned Scissors finally popped open and Amara rolled free, the former Eurasian Champion stretched out beside her blonde adversary as they both drew in deep, ragged breaths.
Though the floor wasn’t thinly-covered plywood and thus didn’t supply as much of a pop on the landing, the collision was jarring enough for an escape. Unfortunately for the Empress, the toll Mariel could bring to bear with her endless stems accumulated quickly and the women laid side by side in tandem spreadeagles, covered from head to toe in translucent goo. And it's Mariel who answered the question 'who wants it more?' She rolled to her left, atop the gassed Singh, and began to mount the splayed Bollywood Bombshell, Amara having apparently used her remaining reserves to pull off the feat of strength.
But before the blue-eyed blonde could get her hips outside those of Singh's and push up to a straddle, Amara made the lower position the stronger one, strapping on a Scissors that's more about containing McGinty's movement. It pressed into the hips of the Incorporated blonde. Above, the Indian wrapped her left arm around the back of Mariel's neck and clamped down on a Guillotine Choke. As McGinty started to gurgle, a more confident glint returned to her dark eyes. "But that's just what you are, peasant," Singh huffed between desperate breaths that said otherwise, "You're practice.
Mariel slapped and swatted at the Bombshell’s thighs and when that didn’t produce the desired results she curled her hands into fists and pounded away at Singh’s flanks. It hardly felt pleasant, yet McGinty’s awkward mount meant they didn’t have nearly the sting of her previous efforts and Amara rode them out with little more than a grimace. Uncharacteristically quiet as she continued to work the Guillotine, Amara abruptly rolled over and sat up, effectively crawling into the taller wrestler’s lap with the body-bending hold still in place. Holding her tongue a bit longer, Singh bore down on both halves of the Guillotine for fifteen seconds before she snapped, “Surrender, peasant!”
Mariel waggled a finger ‘no’ and resumed punching at the Empress’s ribs. “You think this defiance proves anything?” Amara taunted. “It is nothing! Nothing save another reason for me to punish your insolence!”
Halving her control on the Front Facelock, Singh curled her hand into a claw, set it against McGinty’s lower back and raaaaaaaaaaaaaked her all the way to nape of the neck. She repeated it half a dozen times in the next several seconds and when the blonde still wouldn’t cede the contest, Singh grabbed hold of her trunks and did her damndest to pull them over Mariel’s head!
McGinty shrieks in pain from her wedged, homemade thong. With no way to defend against Singh's underhanded tactic, Mariel wrapped her arms around the coppery midriff of Singh and tightened. The cinching pressure acted as a Heimlich on Amara and she burst forth with a heavy exhale, eyes bulging. Singh played off the pressure, letting McGinty know her efforts are for naught when another closing of the noose around her waist cuts off her commentary. There's nothing more than grunts from each for several long seconds, as both shiny frames were pressed to their limits. Throwing caution, Amara released her choke and her wedgie and with Mariel occupied with the Bear Hug, the Bombshell had easy access to drop some battering blistering right forearms into the blonde's jaw. She did so a half-dozen times, until the whips of Mariel's noggin to the side were joined with lolls of her braincase on its return. Singh felt the embrace loosening and tried to slip up the stilled torso of the dazed near-six-footer.
Give McGinty credit, she summoned the last of her reserves and made Amara fight for every inch of oily ground. Unfortunately for Mariel, the Bollywood Bombshell stormed through all the resistance and in the end all of McGinty’s squirming amounted to a facedown sprawl with Amara seated heavily above the small of her back. Biting her bottom lip as she contemplated the peasant’s destruction, Amara helped herself to a double handful of blonde hair and scrubbed those pretty features against the floor of the pit until she was burbling with pain and panic!
“I believe our business is almost complete, you disgusting urchin.” Singh noted once she’d peeled some of the blonde’s hair from her hands. “The only thing that remains is for you to tell all the other peasants just who reigns supreme in this Oil Pit.” Leaning forward, she grabbed McGinty by the elbows and pulled back until the Tag Specialist’s arms were draped over her thighs. Feet set flat, Singh laced both hands over Mariel’s chin and REEEEEEEEEEEFED backward with a Camel Clutch that left the limber lovely gazing at the overhead lights.
“AAAAAAAAHHHHH GAAAAAAAAHHHHHHD! STAAAAAAAAHHPP!” she wailed as Amara tried to bend her into a perfect circle.
With Mariel's legs judiciously eliminated from the conversation and her arms captured by the Bollywood Bombshell, a glistening Singh reveled in the pleas of the lanky blonde. "More spine of yours to break," Singh threatened as she continued to yank farther and farther, Amara nearly in a bridge, McGinty's vertebrae in a torturous 'C' shape, Mariel's noggin nearly overturned. Her welled eyes send tears "up" her face as gravity pulled then toward her oil-sopped flaxen locks. "Who's better? Me or Lenore?" the Empress asked.
Given the circumstances, the answer is an easy one for a wrestler whose backbone seemed near the snapping point, "You are!" shouted McGinty.
"And do you..." Amara doesn't get the offer on the table before Mariel accepts, pleading "I GIVE UP. I GIIIIVE!"
Amara broke into a gloating smile as the bell clanged and the Announcer confirmed, “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner via submission… AMARA SINGH!”
Releasing the Chinlock only after she’d forced Mariel to ‘nod’ along with the proclamation, Singh hooked a Half Nelson and used it to roll the defeated blonde onto her back. Still grinning, Amara swung around in a smooth half circle and planted her gleaming, white-sheathed backside heavily atop McGinty’s upturned features.
“Lenore Lemarchand.” she huffed after several seconds of grind. “Did you not remember the humiliation you felt when I destroyed you on the sand? Apparently you do not, because that’s the ONLY reason I can imagine you’d release that… that…. FARCE of a contest from Mumbai. “You think you can humiliate me? You think you are worthy of the Empress? You may be a Raven in the Black Court but in the ring you’re nothing but a peasant! And in this Oil Pit?” Singh fell silent and waggled her hips, the increased pressure drawing a pitiable groan from Mariel McGinty. “In the oil you’re nothing but my throne.”