Gil "Arma-Gil-O" vs Karla "Ray" Reinhardt - Collar Match

[Monsy]

Noise hurled onto them like a gale.
A steel crescendo could not stifle any such reaction. But the smack of skin, muscle and bone pierced anything the crowds could muster. Dents now padded the main seat and the backseat, now curved after the chair smack. There she had a woman crawl at her feet, right underneath Karla’s shadow. She lifted the chair again, but her brow quirked as she saw someone who was on the verge of tears, dragging themselves as if they were paralyzed from the shoulders down, rotten with despair and pleading for all she’s worth.

She threw the chair aside, and Karla squatted right in front of Gil and grabbed a handful of her hair to haul their upper body face-to-face.

“There’s something you’re missing here that I think I should mention, Arma-Gil-O… I am not persuaded by begging. You can fill a bucket of your tears, blood and snot, then choke as you drink it all down and it still wouldn’t dissuade me. I am going to have fun with you until I get bored. And there’s no one who will save you. Is there?”

The moments trickled on until she heard any sort of answer, whereupon hearing such, Karla would stand, rear back her foot and drive a kick between Gil’s legs.

[Arista]

It wasn't easy for Gil to take all of this, that second-wind she had really put any and all energy she had left, forward, and now, from both over-exhausting herself, and taking a relentless beat down even after the match had ended, she was a mess, to say the least. She crumbled at Karla's feet, begging, crying, hoping for any sympathy, but none would be found in the cold-heart of Karla Reinhardt, she was making herself look strong, while tearing Gil in half and letting the world watch it all happen.

Gil was tugged up harshly by the bulk of her hair, meeting Karla face-to-face. "I-I- I'm s-sorry, Miss Karla... Please forgive me... I can't take anymore..." Gil buried her face into the canvas, hiding herself away from the world, hoping and praying for one last burst of energy that would let her slide out of the ring and take-off, but fate wasn't that kind to her... Someone will help me, they won't just sit back and let her beat me. Gil thought to herself, not answering the question out-loud. Gil was hopeful in general, but she was even more so when that was all she had, her body wouldn't let her even stand to face Karla, she could hardly speak without stuttering her own words, and so, all she could do was hope.

"I- I don't... I'm not..." Gil spoke, if only to break the intensity in the air, Karla was either un-satisfied with the answer, or lack-there-off, that she got, or really angry about it, since her next course of action was sending a driving kick right between Gil's legs! Her eyes shut as she gasped for air, a short, high-pitched squeak escaped from her mouth. Her legs crossed and her hands held her crotch, all before she fell over onto her side. Tears rolled down her cheeks, dripping onto the mat from the cruel display.

[Monsy]

Tears, sobs and puppyish begs. What a drug, more potent than alcohol or LSD.
Arousal was all but assured, but all this blissful power gave her only more and more and more and more…
Maybe this was too much. Beaten and begging. Turned over and cried. Their nerves churned on themselves to the extent that Karla could only blush at the thought. To empathize what they felt - yet she only found a burning heart-rate and a reddening face, hastened breath and overall warmth as she slunk back towards the ropes, the tip of her thumb pinched between her rows of teeth, and a Cheshire grin as she watched, giggled, then raised a finger.

“What’s the matter? We’re just having some fun… Ah, right... maybe this is too much for you. My sincerest apologies, friends don’t play these games with friends, do they? I myself never keep them around - but I do know that friends like making memories together, no? Let’s make one right now…”

She slipped beneath the middle rope, placed a hand on the apron and hopped to ringside. The crowd’s ire was in full swing, the shouts now an almost ear-rape as she strode towards the front row. Middle fingers, thumbs down, shouts all seemed to hurl her way, and pieces of popcorn that tinked off her shoulder. There were a few who snapped photos of her sight, the eye-candy before them, which she approached, camouflaged with a small smile as they gestured her near. She put her back to the barricade and waited for the fan to peer over her shoulder, extending his phone in front until she stared at their mutual reflection. Nausea soon broke out in her gut, flooded her chest and made her lurch forward to gag. One hand covered her mouth while the other swiped the device from his hand, and she scampered over to the ring apron. She looked at him, laughed and pointed her finger. “Dummkopf!”

The man tried to jump the barricade, but the ringside crew stopped him, same with security, while Karla threw herself back into the ring by rolling underneath the bottom rope. She got up onto her knees and skid over to where Gil lay, then collapsed beside her. A hand tried to pull Gil onto her back so they pressed arms and their heads aligned. The camera was held above, turned to video that began to record.

“Greetings, it’s the one and only Karla Ray Reinhardt - here in this shit-festival with my good pet, I mean friend, Arma-Gil-O! We wanted to make a memory together to celebrate our new friendship, and by doing so, she was going to sing me happy birthday to celebrate, well, me! Karla Ray Reinhardt. Come on Gil, show em your voice! Or else...”

[Arista]

Gil choked and sputtered out half a response, but Karla spoke over her, leaving her a shattered mess on the mat. How much more was Karla looking to do, how much more could she humiliate her? How much more did she want to humiliate her? If she could find the energy, she would crawl her way up the ramp an away from this match. Gil thought about trying it, but I would do more harm than good for her, Karla would catch her and punish her for it anyway...

Gil laid staring up at the ceiling, before long, Karla rolled back into the ring, and with her, she brought a phone, to capture this moment between them. Gil's eyes were tired, half held open from the exhaustion that was brought onto her. She listened to Karla's request, but it was more of a demand than anything, after all, if she didn't do what she was told, Karla would only make things worse on her. She coughed up to clear her throat, not asking a single question before she began to sing. "...Happy birthday to you... Happy b-birthday to you... Happy birthday dear... K-Karla...? Happy birthday to you..." Her voice was tired, go figure, untrained, a bit shaky, out of key, but she did what she could, she wasn't singer, but hopefully Karla was happy with the result.

"Karla... I mean, M-miss Karla... Whose birthday is it...?" Gil asked, turning her head just slightly to the side, craning it back a bit to look Karla in the eyes. "...Was this a gift for someone...?" She sounded like she could barely speak, her voice was raspy and shaking from either fear or exhaustion, or maybe it was a little bit of both...

[Monsy]

They lounged like two good friends in a sea of well-cut grass, an open field, perhaps a hill with the lake behind them, grumbling downstream as it sloshed against the rocks that made the riverbed. The wind above them - whistled and shouted, wrestling with branches as a tree overhead stretched its many arms out to protect them from the sun that blistered the skin. It was a sweltering day of adrenaline. But a good one - because they get to share this moment. Almost shoulder-to-shoulder, the two joined together in song with a camera to digitally immortalize this.

“Happy birthday to you… Happy birthday to you… Happy birthday Karla Ray Reeeeeinhardt, happy birthday to you.”

She smiled ear-to-ear when they finished, like the first time she’s ever heard those lyrics sung to her. Felt bubbly that she wanted to laugh, genuine, no matter the lie. They just had to speak again, and Karla’s head tilted to face them.

“It’s mine, didn’t your song tell you? Every day is my birthday. I get presents every day of the year, and today, my present is you. That collar on your neck shows that you’re mine, and I can do whatever I want with you. Isn’t that just exciting? Now, whoever gets this phone will learn that too! Hahahah.”

She shuffled over after rising to her knees, then grabbed the leash and coiled it around her knuckles. Pushing into Gil’s shoulder, she sought to turn her over, then place a shin over her spine, pinning her down. The phone kept inside her leash-wielding hand - pointed at Gil’s skirt. Her free hand lifted it with a swipe and bore down heavy smacks from the back of her palm, hoisted high and brought down for a thunderclap! “Now, how about another song? Sing, songbird.” Another smack. This time, it continued. First one for each cheek, then alternated, always on the same spot so she may see it redden, hopefully, bruise to bring out a lovely purple.

[Arista]

At this point, all Gil could do was go with the flow of things, she couldn't put up a fight, she could hardly move a single muscle, and if she dared try, Karla might not take so kindly to it, she was completely at the mercy of Karla Reinhardt. Karla had no issue moving Gil into whatever position she wanted. Karla rolled her onto her back, and pinned her down with her leg, Gil's head craned up awkwardly from the tight hold of the leash. One swipe upward revealed white and pink polka-dotted panties, and some lucky fan was getting the best possible video of the entire ordeal...!

SMACK.

"Ah...!" A gasp escaped from Gil's lips, she didn't even question it this time, Karla told her to sing, so she sang. "T-twinkle twinkle little star..." Gil sang through gasps and hiccups, her bottom wobbling with every smack. The most humiliating defeat she could possible imagine, and she was living through it. Her cheeks burned crimson red, both the ones on her face, and the ones getting smacked by Karla, she wrapped her song up as quickly as she could, weakly pawing away at the collar around her neck. "...Twinkle, twinkle... Please..."

"...Please... Ow...!" She kicked her feet slightly. "K-karla, I mean, Miss Karla...! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'll do anything if you just stop...! This is too humiliating...!" Gil cried out, one final plea, waving her hand back to catch hold of Karla's arm or body, but finding nothing.

[Monsy]

The question of how she will inflict became a game of how much.
How much does this goat-headed fiend deserve? How much fun can she bleed from them? How many tears? How many sobs? How many pleas? How many… Songs… How many… Yes. The answer was such an elusive beast; not one answer was right. Even as she stopped - there wasn’t telling how much more she could reap. Even today. Even tomorrow. Next week. Month. Year. This was just something they had to live down, where Karla only hoped the scar could stay fresh with the video recording as the memoir. Perhaps it’ll go viral. Oh, what a treat that would be. But that was future talk, unbefitting for Karla, who lived in this moment, grinning ear-to-ear with a cheery hum in her voice as she delivered smack after smack. Her head tilted towards Gil’s when she pleaded; the camera followed as to capture their teary expanse, face littered in them, sweltering after what Karla had done. The sweet spot.

“You’re such a baby, you know that? You lost, so I’m doing what I want with you. I’ve earned the right.”

Her knee slid further up her back, right between their shoulder blades. The leash was coiled further around her knuckles, twisted slowly, “There’s nothing you can do for me that doesn’t involve me making you suffer.” She said, the camera aimed at the back of her head, right as her knuckles touched it. That arm to which they swiped could find whatever purchase if so desired. But when it finally latched onto something, what then? Will they scratch? Pinch? Pound? In what capacity do they expect to yield? It was fun to ponder, so she did nothing about it - if only to prove something.

“Perhaps, when you wake up, you won’t remember anything.” She said, then yanked up on the leash, her knee as the counterweight as she pulled up - further. Further. Further. The phone was aimed to capture every moment.

[Arista]

Gil didn't want to admit it, but Karla was right, she was a baby, as hard as it was to think of anyone who would take this match in-stride, surely they would take it better than Gil was... She was a mess, sobbing and begging, pleading for any kind of mercy, even if she knew she wouldn't get it. She couldn't endure it, she was past the point of wanting to give-up, she was willing to do anything to get out of this, but Karla wasn't so kind as the grant her that wish, she was now: L.A.W's Biggest Baby...

"...No, please, I'll really do anything, I swear, I'm so sorry...!" Gil would sputter out one last squeak of pathetic-dribble, but again, Karla wasn't so kind. She felt her head be forced up by the yank of her leash, restricting her breathing as she clutched her collar tight. Her feet kicked and her mouth hung-open, her eyes struggled to stay open even mere-seconds after Karla started choking her, she was hanging on by a thin thread...

After less than a minute of what could barely be considered a struggle, Gil fell unconscious, her body went limp, the pitiful noises that left her mouth stopped, and so did the begging. No one came to save her, no one could, and Gil didn't blame them, who would want to face someone like Karla? Someone so willing to do... This... To their opponent? She hoped for someone, even still, but she was left to face Karla alone, and ultimately, she couldn't do it, and ended up playing the role of Karla's dog, maybe that's exactly where she belonged...

[Monsy]

Karma is the cocktail of convenience and coincidence, meshed together for one moment, to happen to the right person. It’s a fairytale. No one is coming. Her treatment was nothing special, just a woman who enjoyed watching that open-mouthed, whine-infested and eye-gaped face. The kicks were the best of all; that survival instinct, if not only to witness it bested. She had all the control she could ever want; bathed in it, then when their struggles turned blue, she showed the other side. Mercy. The leash unrolled from her hand, and Karla combed back her hair one last time.

"Your apology is accepted." She said, then dove into a roll beneath the bottom rope and landed feet-first outside. A concert of hate was there to escort her goodbye, kept thin by puny barriers. Still, Karla thought it right, no, humorous to march over and return the phone to the good man, who swiped it from her open palm. She waved with her fingers, turned around and marched towards the rampway, but stopped at the stage to blow a lipstick-wealthy kiss to the crowd, then disappeared behind stage, last seen with echoing laughter.

Winner by Pinfall: Karla "Ray" Reinhardt