Cassandra vs Shimmerlace: The Taming of the Beastie

[Malkavia]

“HISSSSSS!” went the cat.

“HISSSSSS!” went Shimmerlace.

Low to the ground, the cat backpedaled towards the ringpost, but Shimmerlace bore her own fangs and raised her claws (and spray bottle) and got down low and stable-like. Growling, muttering, she wiped from her face and neck and ears and hair the sticky saliva of a dozen kisses, and she searched for a road to the beastie’s throat.

Shimmer paced — shift left, dodge right — several arms’ length from the corner, just outside her enemy’s deadly reach. The bottle had saved her once—but twice? A second daft move would be on her own head.

But shifting and dodging would soon look cowardly, so the Seelie Scion exploded towards the untamed wildling in two motions, one with her arm, an arc that pulled the spray bottle back, then up over Shimmer’s head and TOSS—the bottle shot at the left side of the cat’s face. The second PUMP was in Shimmer’s legs. She darted towards the nyan-face monster, PUMPED toward’s Cassy’s right arm, hoping the cat would be distracted and Shimmer could GRAB her sweet, furry wrist.

And if the feychild got the feral arm, what then? Well she’d duck through the ropes YANK it around the ringpost and hold it and streeeeetch it, of course! Maybe then snugglepuff here would hiss a bit in a more submissive sorta register.

[Suzanna Mey]

Cassandra was playing up the water spritz act, hissing and raising paws at Shimmerlace defensively. And then the girl hissed back. She’d find herself cornered as the girl went left and right, before finally the spray bottle collided with her face.

“OOOOP!” She left out, trying to grab her face, but Shimmer grabbed the girl’s arm!
Begin yanked, Cassandra let out a shrill cry as her arm was suddenly hyperextended and stretched around a ringpost. “EEEEEE!” She cries out, wildly swinging and trying to pull, her arm suddenly in an intense pain. The referee began to save the catgirl by counting for a rope break. “One….two….”

[Malkavia]

—Rope break. Right. You’d think after all the training in the Thunder Halls, Shimmer’d remember rules like that, but—look, her mind was full...Of cat girls...their curves, their claws...and like the tits and such, right?

Anyway, Cassy here hadn’t seen anything near justice for the way she’d tried to gobble up the pinkette, and Shimmer had seconds to capitalize, so she shot to the things that had been first or second or third on her brain for the past fifteen minutes.

Positioned as she was with the ringpost between her and the cat, if Shimmer just put Cassy’s arm under her own armpit and twisted with her torso, she could keep up the lovely violence on the cat’s shoulder and still have a hand free. And what was a free hand to do but try and wrap around the ring-post and grab something nice? Like a fat breast bapping about in the melee?

If that worked, Shimmer’d have two grips on the cat, and she could push her feet on the ringpost and pull Cassy all bow-and-arrow like. From tit to tip as it were. Of course (if she got that far at all) she’d have to drop that grip quick to avoid the count-out, but it would still be retribution, those few seconds twisting one of the knockers that moments ago had smooshed her wee body.

So that’s just what Shimmer tried to do.

“Stop faffing around ya mangy tomcat,” she shouted as she started her move, “so I can check you for fleas!”