Regal vs Rural - Madeleine Citronelle vs Kiena Ono (D)

[Baddie]

What was an orchestra in the ears of her opponent was nothing but thunderous noise in the Kiena's head. A pounding, incessant monstrosity that impeded her ability to think or analyze the situation, which was undoubtably the point. Coupled with the pain still searing in her leg, Kiena's immediate predicament seemed hopeless.

That was until she saw the look on her opponent's face. That smile that veered with satisfaction. Those eyes that gazed with hunger. Smooth skin, free from the blemishes of battle. To suffer beneath the heel of such a woman was a temporary possibility. But to lose to her entirely was a scenario Kiena simply would not entertain. Drawing from her reserves of rage, Kiena calmed her breathing from labored gasps to controlled intakes of air, slowly but surely replenishing her energy in the process.

She feigned incapacity in the meantime, rolling back and forth on the mat in measured agony. In reality her eyes remained deadlocked on her opponent, swiping this way and that as she swooshed from one side of the ring to the other. The thunderous applause left a dastardly ringing in her ears, but she learned to tune that out as well, until nothing but her ironclad resolve and will to dismantle this woman played out in her livid mind.

In a stark moment of clarity, Kiena was able to envision every move of Madeleine's moments before she had performed it. The sudden build up of speed caused the mat to tremble, the twitch of anticipation in her muscle, the upwards spring of her toes against the canvas in what was undeniable preparation for launch. Yes, Madeline was shooting her leg upwards, it's trajectory clear as day, and her moment of recourse even clearer.

She waited until Madeleine's leg had fallen too far to redirect itself before springing into action. Unleashing uncharacteristic agility, she rolled her body to the side, the breeze of Madeline's heel as it made empty contact with the canvas sending the hairs on the back of Kiena's neck to rise. After having dodged what would have surely been a crushing blow, Kiena set about making sure Madeleine could not deliver another.

While still on the mat, she launched a kick of her own towards her opponent. While she was far from an adept striker, the methodology of her attack required only power, which she had in spades, and very little skill. Thus she swung her foot with all her strength towards the inner part of Madeline's knee, the most vulnerable part of her opponent's leg in an attempt to cause the limb to buckle and bring the rest of the blonde noble down on the mat with it.

[Malkavia]

The crowd was a cheap whore. Seconds ago, they had played her sonata. Now pain flared in her calf like a red-hot tong had been inserted between the bone and the muscle, and she was falling—and she could already hear the crowd’s applause like an angry wave unfolding on a rough and rocky beach.

(Why shouldn’t they applaud? The Countess herself had felt something flutter when she saw the way Kiena could move—the quick, twitch reflex in a body built to smash boulders. The way she slipped, quicksilver, out of the path of Madeleine’s lightning strike made the blonde turn pale. Dr. Batson’s voice came to her mind too late. Overestimate, Madeleine. Whatever you admire or fear or grudgingly respect in your coworkers—inflate it. Consciously. Multiply it by three. That might get you close to accurate.)

Madeleine’s body crumpled on the mat and she hissed—a sound she heard all too clearly, a sound like steam bursting free from an overstuffed boiler, a sound that would carry. She bounced on her hip, rolled onto her back, and tried to scramble back into fighting position—but she asked too much, too fast. When she tried to put weight on the calf Kiena had just brutalized, it trembled, refused to pump her body up, and all she succeeded in doing was to fall a second time, this time on her face. The mat felt rough against her cheek, and she could feel as much as see her opponent’s shadow cast by the burning heat of the ring’s overhead lights.

Fuck. She felt the word try to rip out of her like a maggot trying to wriggle to the surface of rancid meat. But she bit her lip.

[Baddie]

The thud of her opponent's body into the mat was a welcome crescendo in Kiena's ears. She scrambled to her hands and knees, her own pain now a distant memory in light of the opportunities that now presented themselves in the form of Madeleine's downed body. Kiena soon pounced at her opponent, thrusting her knee down hard into the back of the countess's neck, the pressure simultaneously choking her while keeping her pinned face first to the mat.

"Pathetic girl! It'll take more than few fancy kicks to put me down for good!" Kiena hissed, putting more weight behind the knee to accentuate her point. But strangling her opponent would hardly serve as the emphasis she needed. Oh no, she had something much more special in mind for dear Madeleine.

Kiena lifted the knee off of her opponent's neck, only to throw it over on the other side of her instead. Her other leg would slid in closer, thus straddling Madeline's supine form between her thighs. After mounting herself on her opponent's back, Kiena would reach forward and grab a fistful of Madeline's luscious blonde hair before yanking the girl's entire head backwards and hissing in her ear. "You started off lucky, I'll give you that. But this my dear, is all skill!"

Kiena's other hand would shoot downwards before encapsulating one of Madeline's breasts within her palm. The other hand would relinquish the grip on her hair in order to do the same to the other boob, thus giving full control of Madeleine's precious mounds to Kiena's hungry fingers. She groped the ample bosom with loveless squeezes, molding the flesh beneath the woman's thin attire.

The breast fondling would only serve as a precursor to the real move however. Kiena elevated herself slightly so that she was now in a fully seated position on Madeline's back: Butt pressed on the base of her opponent's spine with feet flat on the canvas on either side of her. After throwing both of her opponent's arms over her thighs, Kiena tightened her grip on Madeleine's breasts and started to lean backwards. The maneuver would apply a tremendous amounts of pressure on her opponent's spine by slowly pealing Madeleine's chest further and further away form the mat into a backwards arc. The move was truly a sight to behold, a modified breast-hold camel clutch that sent the crowd into an absolute frenzy!

[Malkavia]

She choked. The Countess imagined her clawing, her kicking, her squirming, (pathetic, absolutely pathetic, perfectly nauseating) but she couldn’t breathe...Kiena grabbed her hair, yanked, forced a whimper crooning out of Madeleine’s gullet but at least, thank God, her throat opened, but—It’s unfair, unfair, unfair!

Stop. That's toxic. Like with Origa. Self-pity is self-defeating. Sublimate, redirect that emotion to—

Kiena’s hand on Madeleine’s breast interrupted…everything. Madeleine shivered. She stopped kicking. Every sensation sharpened. Intensified. Like God had amped the world's video quality. More maggots, more groans and fuck and shit and cunt wriggled under Madeleine’s skin, struggled to breach, but she shoved them down and bit. Her. Lip. Even as Kiena cupped her other breast and her breath hitched.

Madeleine refused to take it. Which made her situation worse. She struggled, kicked, rolled. She tried (and failed) to tuck her knees, tried to push—and exhausted her shoulders. She went by the book. But there was no by the book, not from a position this fucked, not from someone Kiena’s size—the Countess had no choice. She lay there and felt every inch of Kiena: the contempt as her fingers deformed, prodded, caressed Madeleine’s tits…the ease of the physically superior body settling over Madeleine like a steel trap, the arms around her chest a cold collar.

“Skill…Miss Ono?” Madeleine scraped out the words. “You call this…cheap…groping—”

Pain like lightning fissured Madeleine’s back. Her nipples became hard nubs under Kiena’s unrelenting palms. The crowd’s roar, though, is what finished her, crushing the trembling blonde as she turned red and sank her teeth into her lip until her eyes watered.

[Baddie]

With a move this incapacitating, Kiena sensed that she had the power to end the match right then and there. All she needed to do was lean as far back as her anatomy would allow. Sooner or later, her opponent would surrender from the sheer pain alone, and if she didn't, well her spine would surely give out for her. But Kiena was hesitant to take it to that level this early. After all, what use was breaking a toy before you've had a chance to play with it?

But that didn't mean Kiena would let the strength of her hold diminish. On the contrary, she could sense that she still had a fair bit of leeway in terms of how much further she could bend her prey before she snapped. And so Kiena did exactly that, clamping onto Madeleine's boobs with ever increasing authority as she gradually arced the woman's back into an even tighter angle.

If her efforts went unopposed, than Madeleine's head would be nearly upside down, forced to look back into Kiena's eyes. "Call it whatever you want my dear. All I know is that you look awfully... vulnerable" Kiena whispered, her tone all of a sudden taking on a much more sultry tone. Without further warning, Kiena leaned forward and licked her tongue repeatdly along the length of Madeleine's cheek, relishing in the salty tang of her opponent's distress!

At the same time, Kiena slipped her fingers between her opponent's cleavage in order to heighten the intimacy of her hold. She was no longer executing the breast hold from outside of Madeline's attire, but rather from within it. Madeleine's skin felt warm and smooth to the touch, while her nipples become opportune targets that Kiena tweaked between her fingers, using them as leverage points to hold onto as she continued to apply unbearable pressure in the hold.

To top it all off, Kiena transformed her hungry licks to an insatiable kiss on her opponent's lips. Even if Madeline wanted to, there was simply no means to escape. Her arms hung limp over Kiena's shoulders, fingers left to dangle too far away to tap. Her mouth had been properly sealed by Kiena's greedy lips, with the vixen's tongue now traveling down it's length and into the deeper cavern within. Kiena slashed and battled with her opponent's tongue, but she knew the combined pain and pleasure of the hold would give her an insurmountable advantage. The combination of attacks yielded a move worthy of being a finisher in it's own right, but Kiena used it more sinisterly as a mere prelude to the world of indescribable pain and pleasure she planned to plunge her opponent into.

Spoiler

[Malkavia]

A single imperative emanated from the Countess: Don’t cry out. Don’t make a godforsaken sound. Her body obeyed. But that pressure had to go somewhere.

Pain turned like a dial in Madeleine’s back, from simmer to open flame. Her jaw clamped; her fingertips twitched. Kiena looked into her eyes, then ran her tongue over her cheek. Madeleine could smell her breath, first from Kiena’s mouth, then from the streak of wet painted, hot, across her face. It smelled sweet. The crowd crooned. “Ooooh!” Then Kiena clamped her nipples—stretched them. A tremor ran through Madeleine, from her feet to her shoulders. Not so much as a sigh escaped the Countess’s throat, but her face, stretched and twisted and scarlet, told a story.

Breathe.

Breasts are just another...admittedly erogenous part of the body. This is just another hold. It happened, accept it, accept the feelings, and—

A kiss interrupted the thought.

Madeleine fought the whole way. She thrashed. Kiena’s tongue slid between her teeth, covered her tongue. Kiena’s taste, warm as winter coals, sweet like licorice, washed over Madeleine, made her thrashing a shudder.

“Mmm...” A whimper escaped, ripped from somewhere deep. As it slid over their tongues, Madeleine felt something inside collapse. Her face prickled. Catcalls from the crowd rushed enough blood to her cheeks to make Madeleine woozy. She could either close her eyes (admit defeat) or stare at the wolf dominating her until a line from her clit to her insides ached.

Every inch of Madeleine went loose, then slowly tightened as a dull venom started to curl at the Countess’ golden core.