Katsumi Oshiro vs Chiyo Hamamoto(D) - A Spark Ignites

[PuroQueen]

Chiyo was exhausted, barely able to keep her eyes open, and the sensation of Katsumi's body pressing down on hers only made it harder to breathe. The sound of the referee's voice was distant and muffled, and she struggled to focus on anything other than the weight on top of her. Even the referee's loud first count wasn't enough to jolt Chiyo from the depths of her subconsciousness.

Being a pro wrestler meant that eventually, somewhere down the line, you were going to lose. She had come to terms with that fact even before her time in LAW, but tonight felt different. Tonight was supposed to mean something, tonight was supposed to be special. At first, it was just about her big debut, about starting off in a new league and putting on a good show... But after everything she's been through - everything Katsumi put her through - a win here meant more than just a W on a piece of paper. It was the difference between self-hate and self-validation. The inaugural test that would determine whether or not Chiyo could contend and overcome whatever the ring had to offer. And she had failed.

A tear gently rolled down the side of her cheek as the deflated rookie silently prepared herself for the end.

She was just too tired, too battered, to put up any more of a fight.

And then she heard it. The sound of the audience chanting her name, "CHI-YO! CHI-YO! CHI-YO!" It was a somber moment but also one of unexpected hope. Maybe, just maybe, she could find the strength to push through and fight back.

"TWO!"

But as the referee slapped the mat for the second time, Chiyo felt herself slipping away again, her body too weak to continue the fight. It was over. She had fought as hard as she could, but in the end, it wasn't enough. As the crowd fell silent, Chiyo lay there, feeling defeated but also oddly at peace. She had given it her all, and that was all she could do. She closed her eyes once more, moaning beneath the weight and heat of her opponent, waiting for that dreaded, final count...

[CyanDimitrik]

There was a good chance Katsumi hadn't spotted the tear. Despite how hard she'd been studying the girl beneath her, her mind had become clouded, hearing the crowd chant her name. Even this close to defeat, they were still urging the newcomer to beat Katsumi. Was she so hated? What the Hell did she do that was so wrong?! And why this newbie!?

The girl has to be taught the pecking order. The whole audience does, in fact. And the sass and backtalk she'd given her through the match has earned a little more than the 'mercy-killing' Katsumi is presenting here and now. She can't admit it to herself, but there is a word for what she's feeling. The frustration and tension upon seeing how the crowd has embraced Chiyo so readily, at the cost of Katsumi's career. It's jealousy. And it's gnawing at her on the inside. The more she hears the crowd chant her name, the more it bores into her soul. She's fought her whole life to be where she is. And to have been relegated to newbie-wrangler?! And this is after her intense re-training, and the makeover! New gear, new style, she's done so much to get above where she was!

She hears the second count called out.

No. She came out tonight with an objective in mind. And from the first taunt Chiyo sent her way, she knew exactly how she intended to do it. Suddenly, she yanks back on Chiyo's shoulder to pop it up from the mat, manually breaking the pin for her.

"We're not done yet."

The audience erupts into a cacophony of noise; outrage, cheer, booing. It's indiscernible at this fever pitch.

"O-Oshiro-san! What are you doing!?" The referee stands back up, befuddled.

There is no answer given to the officiator. Instead, Katsumi pulls on the shoulders as she leans back, mustering strength in her tired legs. That reprieve of sitting, for as brief as it was, all but sapped her remaining strength. But what's fueling her now is a mixture of spite and puckish glee. And with Chiyo sitting up with her now, albeit likely not of her own volition, Katsumi gives her that wicked smile. "Do you remember?," she asks. Her tone is icy, dangerous. "What I said? What you said to me at the start of the match? I told you to remember."

She lifts to her full height and spins around, taking Chiyo into a side headlock under her left arm, but careful not to hold too tightly. Her hand is braced beneath Chiyo's chin to help her face forward, while her right hand grabs for Chiyo's right wrist.

"Where's the camera!?," she shouts at the ringside crew as she yanks the girl around, holding her cheek securely against her narrow waist. "Let's make sure her family and friends get a good look at the beginning of her journey to the top!"

[PuroQueen]

Any second now, Chiyo's debut would be over. Defeated, distraught, disappointed - yes, but also over. No more pain, no more suffering, only reflection as Chiyo's mind wandered elsewhere mid-pin, as if time itself had stood still. It had been grueling and miserable, no doubt about it, but at the same time, it was an experience that could go on to define the rest of her career. Chiyo had gone into this match thinking that virtue alone would be enough to win. In a way, Katsumi did teach her something: At the end of the day, it was all about who could hit the hardest.

That... girl - Katsumi. Coming into this match, Chiyo was greeted with the dark, menacing beauty that was her opponent. It felt weird admitting that, but Katsumi was beautiful. Mean, crude, and vile without reservation, but there was no denying that when examined at surface level, she was just plain... beautiful. Maybe... maybe there was more to her. Maybe there was more of that beauty buried deep inside of her too, you know, the kind of personality you couldn't exactly dig out of a girl during a wrestling match.

Agh, what was she thinking! It was a silly thought to have, especially now when she was just moments away from -

Hey... shouldn't the referee have hit the third count by now?

Chiyo's eyes blinked hard twice, first to clear her teary-eyed vision, then to regain her focus. What was happening, why weren't the medical personnel here yet to escort her out of here? Why was... why was Katsumi still looming above her!? Chiyo's heart sank as she felt Katsumi forcefully sit her up, breaking the pin. She could barely focus on her opponent's words, the fatigue and exhaustion making her head swim. But when she did, Chiyo's mouth trembled, refusing to answer Katsumi's question without first asking one of her own.

"K-Katsumi... why!?" It wasn't a plea for mercy or restraint, it was a genuine question. Why!? When Chiyo was in no condition to fight back, when victory was literally but a second a why. Why did she want to keep on hurting her!?

"No, s-stop! Kat! S-STOP!" Chiyo demanded as she was dragged upwards, her voice failing to maintain a defiant tone amid the overbearing headlock. Suddenly her face was magnified on the titantron above, a flurry of flashes and clicks blinding her senses from all the nearby cameras invoked right on cue. Chiyo let out a loud shriek, unable to shield her face from the invasive onslaught due to Katsumi's grip on her wrist. Her eyes glanced around desperately between the blinding lights, trying to spot the one person who could maybe put an end to this and let Chiyo escape with some semblance of her dignity intact.

But the referee seemed equally confused and paralyzed. The sad truth was, she had no authority to stop the heel. As cruel as it may have seemed, Katsumi had every right to end the match in any manner she deemed fit, and right now, she was opting for pure and utter humiliation. Chiyo could barely feel her own body as it was dragged around the ring, head locked tight between the crease of her opponent's arm and waist. She tried to pull away, but her movements were weak and uncoordinated. She wanted to fight back, to show Katsumi that she shouldn't be doing this, that this was going too far. But there was no stopping the dastardly punk from wreaking her vengeance.

[CyanDimitrik]

Katsumi had no idea where the girl's mind had trailed off in the interim between her the almost-pin and seething jealousy taking the proverbial wheel. No idea whatsoever that someone like Chiyo could harbor any positive feelings about her. All that existed right now was vindication. Raw, rough vindication.

Despite the protests Chiyo is crying out, Katsumi continues to tug her around the ring by the head and arm. Her gaze casts hurriedly about the ring's perimeter at the various crew personnel, until one is brave enough to trot halfway up the metal steps, zeroing in on the two women. Katsumi's focus lands on him, and she spins around to present Chiyo's distressed face to the camera. She has to ease up on the headlock in favor of bringing that arm out from behind her back, but it sees her propping Hamamoto-chan's chin with her left palm.

"There we go~!," coos Katsumi breathlessly. "Look, Chiyo-chan! It's your adoring fans! Say hi~!" She lifts the girl's wrist to manually flap her hand at the camera. "Everyone you just introduced yourself to tonight! They're getting a great look at your face! Your strength! It's very impressive, huh?"

The crowd is uproarious with boos. But Katsumi persists in the bullying.

"They really got to see you stake your claim, huh? How this is your ring? That's what you said, isn't it?" She tugs Chiyo's face to look up at her, meeting her gaze with burning emerald embers. "How'd that turn out for ya?" And she manually turns Chiyo's face to the camera again.

"Oh, let's not forget your fans from the indies! God, I bet they're loving seeing how far you've come! How much you've grown, now that you're in the big leagues! What an impressive start to being taken seriously! Isn't that right?" She swings Chiyo's hand inwards to limply slap at the rookie's own face a couple times. "Not at all embarrassing."

The slapping ceases, and Katsumi focuses on the camera along with Chiyo. There's a facetious gasp to follow as she feigns surprise. "And your parents. Your family. What do you think? Are they watching out there?" That wicked smile tugs the corners of her lips again. "They must be so proud. Seeing their baby girl like this." Her hand squishes in on Chiyo's cheeks briefly to smoosh her face condescendingly before relaxing the grip again.

Keeping a tight hold on Chiyo's head, Katsumi stalks closer to the camera to grab it by the hood and pulling it in so the titantron is taken up with a closeup of her malicious face. "Don't blink, bitches."

Releasing the camera, she steps back with her prey, stalking to the center of the ring. With a forceful yank, she spins Chiyo around to face her and grabs her biceps to pull her neck between her legs, surrounding her with the warmth of her inner-thighs. Her left hand sets to her waist to keep her steady, while the other draws her thumb menacingly across her throat, signaling the impending end.

The arena is awash in pandemonium, anticipation surging through the space like electricity through water. No distinct voices can be heard, only the clamor of excitement, hands clapping, feet stomping. There's something to be said about unrepentant savagery. Something that appeals to the fans of professional wrestling on a deep, dark level. In this gladiatorial combat, Katsumi has chosen to show no mercy.

[PuroQueen]

The world Chiyo had once known vanished. All around her, the deafening roar of the crowd blended into a singular drone. The blinding lights of the arena and cameras had dulled, becoming mere pinpricks of white-hot pain in the periphery of her vision. And yet, there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide from the merciless onslaught of Katsumi's torment.

The once-proud wrestler was now a shell of her former self, her spirit broken by the brutal barrage of her opponent's words. Every fiber of her being ached, every nerve sending agonizing signals to her brain as Katsumi pulled and tugged her around the ring like a ragdoll. Chiyo could feel the weight of her humiliation bearing down on her like an anchor, dragging her ever deeper into the abyss of her own helplessness.

"K-Katsumi, please, I -" Chiyo's voice was cut short as she bit her inner lip. No... she had almost been reduced to begging! She violently shook her head within her opponent's grasp, denying both Katsumi's cruel words and the inner voice inside her head telling her to give in and plead for mercy.

And yet, through the fog of her despair, she could hear the taunts of her tormentor. Katsumi's voice was like a snake, hissing and spitting venom with each breath. Her words cut deep, sinking into the raw flesh of Chiyo's wounded soul like a knife. Not even her own body was hers anymore: Katsumi had taken that away from her. Her limp hand was mockingly used to wave to friends, family, and fans.

"Shut up! S-SHUT UP!" Chiyo sobbed, although she knew her choked up voice would only be music to her opponent's ears.

Yes, it was true. Chiyo's parents were watching from home. They had always been protective of their one and only child, their hearts having just about stopped when she told them she wanted to be a wrestler. Now their greatest fears were being realized on live TV, Chiyo's bruised, wet features broadcasted for thousands of viewers to gawk at.

The crowd was now a blur of colors and faces, their jeers and boos a distant echo in the recesses of her mind. She was alone in the ring with Katsumi, a prisoner to her twisted desires. And as the sadistic wrestler pulled her close, Chiyo knew that this was the end. The end of her career, the end of her dreams, the end of her life.

Chiyo's shame was amplified tenfold as she was straddled between the chiseled thighs of her opponent, her athletic shorts wedged tight between her damp derriere, fully in view of the multitude of cameras. Who knew where those pictures would end up, but even that thought wasn't worth worrying about right now. For Chiyo, there was only the darkness. And as it swallowed her whole, she knew that as long as she shared the ring with this monster, she would never escape its embrace.

Katsumi's thumb traced a line across her throat, a silent promise of the fate that awaited her. The audience was on the edge of their seats, their cheers a symphony of bloodlust. In that moment, Chiyo knew that she had lost everything. And as Katsumi tightened her grip, squeezing the life out of her with each passing second, tears dripping from her cheeks and staining the mat below, Chiyo was left to wonder what epitome of evil Katsumi could possibly have conceived for her next?

[CyanDimitrik]

It's simple, really. Simple in execution, but elegant in design, marrying the two facets of Katsumi's wrestling style neatly into a single horrible finisher.

Leaning over Chiyo's back, her arms slide further along her ribs until her hands find the center of the girl's stomach. Still tight, still toned, skin still slick with warm sweat. She pulls, her tortured arms straining even with the leverage of body mechanics on her side, swinging Chiyo's lower half up and over in a single, full flip rotation. The girl is slotted in right behind Katsumi, back to back, her hands quickly transitioning to catch her wrists and thighs stepping to hook her boots at the ankles, splaying her body out like a bloodeagle upon her back, ultimately baring her opponent to the bright, dazzling overhead lights, the roaring crowd and their sparkling camera-flashes, and the house cameras themselves, eagerly taking in every angle of her taut body and pained face.

Katsumi hunches forward, pulling on the wrists. The result pushes Chiyo's stomach forward, bowing her back dramatically while hyper-extending both arms backwards in a rolling, agonizing stretch. This is the first part of the finisher - the finesse part. The one that reflects Katsumi's new training best, in her skill as a technician. Three deep pulls of the limbs and hunching leans Katsumi forces her to endure, granting her no solace but for the periods between, intended to give her the chance to catch a breath if only to wrench a fresh scream from her. The third and final pull was the roughest, leaning in deeply enough to let Chiyo's head drop back and face the audience behind her upside-down. That one, she holds for a few seconds. She was right, though. Her sobbing voice was music to her ears.

After those few seconds, however, Katsumi snaps back like an elastic band. She slings herself ramrod straight, flinging Chiyo's arms loose all while dropping to her pert rear on the mat. And all that pent-up momentum rockets the girl like a slingshot straight forward and down, to collide chest and stomach first against the mat behind her with thunderous impact. The second aspect of Katsumi's wrestling style - ferocious brutality.

The Nightmare Fuel transitioned into the Nightmare Bomb. Two sides of a single finisher, performed dead center of the ring for the cameras to enjoy.

Katsumi's head tilts to look over her shoulder with a smirk, hoping the girl isn't unconscious. She doesn't want a KO win. She wants the cameras to get an eyeful of her pinning her opponent.

[PuroQueen]

You might think it was the constant beratement, or the slow dull throb of her aching muscles, or the incessant pounding in her head that would be hardest to endure. But no, it was the wait. Those few last agonizing seconds as her head lay shoved between Katsumi's legs, blinded as to the goings-on of the world around her, having to rely only on her opponent's hate-filled voice for any hint of when she planned to enact her misery. Chiyo's fingers slipped against the wet surface of Katsumi's skin, struggling to find purchase against the thick outer thighs of her opponent as she braced herself for whatever was coming next.

Chiyo's world spun as she was flipped over and caught in the climactic hold. The bright lights overhead seemed to swirl and dance around her, and the roar of the audience only added to the confusion. She was barely aware of Katsumi's hands on her wrists, the hook of her boots, or the way her body was stretched out and displayed for all to see. All she could feel was the pain, a never-ending suffering that threatened to swallow her whole. Chiyo's body was in hell as Katsumi executed her finisher with such precision and force. The pain was excruciating, each pull of her limbs sending waves of agony through her body. She gasped for breath, her lungs heaving as she fought to keep conscious. The crowd roared around her, their voices drowned out by the trauma filled scream of the poor pinkette.

"UUUUAUGH...AAAAAAAAIIIIIEEEE!" Chiyo let out a visceral cry, tongue flailing from mouth with unconceivable angst.

There was pause, a merciless modicum of time barely long enough for Chiyo to catch her breath before the second wave of torture began. Katsumi leaned forward, pulling on Chiyo's wrists with all her might. Chiyo's body arched in response, her back bending in an unnatural way. She gritted her teeth, trying to endure the pain as best she could at first. It was like nothing she had ever felt before - a relentless, unending torment that threatened to break her at any moment. But she couldn't hold it back any longer.

"NOOO...NOOOOO-NNNUUAAAAAGH!" The rookie wailed, her vocal cords on the brink of tearing from the deafening screams of horror.

This wasn't a submission hold. This was an all-out public execution, a modern-day crucifixion taking place right here, in the center of the ring. And Chiyo was the martyr. Her head hung lopsided against Katsumi's back, a garble of indiscernible words dribbling from drooling lips. The familiar squeak of skin chafing against skin reemerged as Katsumi set about launching the third wave of her attack, stretching Chiyo's spine and limbs to their tightest, most excruciating extent yet.

"MMPAAAAGH!...KAATSUMIII, P-P-PLEEEEEASE-GGAAAGHHH!"

She was begging, actually begging. This was it, Chiyo had been broken.

And then it was over, but not with the added mercy of being left to flop to the mat. Even in her egregious state of peril, Chiyo was smart enough to know Katsumi was going to make every last second in this ring a grueling one. Sure enough, the Punk Princess flung herself backward, sending Chiyo forward and down to collide with the mat, the added weight of gravity and Katsumi on her back magnifying the impact by several multitudes. The crash was thunderous, booming throughout the arena and silencing the crowds with its aftershock. The world went dark for a moment, and Chiyo was left to drown in a sea of pain.

But then, slowly and agonizingly, she began to come to. The pain was still there, a constant ache that tormented her body, but she was aware of the world around her again. The last drops of fuel she had left were used to flip herself over onto her back, only to see Katsumi smirking down at her. For a moment, she wanted to lash out, as if that was even possible. Then exhaustion hit her like a brick wall, and she knew that it was over.

As Katsumi moved in to pin her, Chiyo closed her eyes, trying to block out the sound of the crowd. It was over, and there was nothing she could do about it. She had lost, and her only hope now was that the camera operators would at least have the decency not to zoom in on the gentle downpour of tears streaming down her face.

[CyanDimitrik]

Katsumi was... frankly impressed the girl had enough strength left in her just to roll over. But then, that's been a steady, consistent thing in this match, hasn't it? Frequently finding some reason to think well of Chiyo. But this wasn't the time for it. Every nerve ending is tingling, her insides tight with anticipation for the pin to come. She'd worked hard for it. No one could say she didn't. And she was going to enjoy every waking moment.

First, Katsumi turns over onto hands and knees. Then, she nudges Chiyo's legs to ensure they're spread apart. Whether she steeples a knee or not doesn't matter. She crawls closer to her, over her, her body hovering little more than half a foot from touching her, prowling with back arched like a jungle cat. She tosses her hair back, whipping the wet blueblack mane from the right side of her face to curtain on the left, hooded gaze focused on the girl below. She lowers down, first with her hips, tucking pelvic bone against pelvic bone snugly. Then, the sleek abdominals come to press against Chiyo's own toned belly, the skin contact sending a fresh spark of electrical sensation through her. Breasts cushion against breasts, unabashedly leaning her body fully over her fallen foe's. Every breath either shares causes them to brush against one another, press tighter before relaxing with each exhale. And Katsumi is unabashedly indulging in the full body contact, the thrill of conquering Chiyo's with nothing more than her weight, strength, and will.

Her right hand over Chiyo's left bicep, holding the arm flat out to the side. Her left hand sets to Chiyo's cheek, pushing her face to the side - specifically towards the cameras, letting them get an eyeful of both their faces, and Katsumi's body dominantly poised over her prey's. Her heart pounds, back arching again to press herself more tightly over the other girl, just to emphasize her position as conqueror. Every exhaled breath whisks warmth against the girl's neck and ear. She's sore. She's hurting. But she loves this moment. It feels perfect. And she'll treasure watching this forever, immortalizing the feel of Chiyo, beaten and pinned, beneath her.

The referee solemnly lowers to the mat somewhat behind Chiyo's head to begin slapping the mat.

"One!"

"Two!"

[PuroQueen]

As the referee's hand slapped the mat for the first time, the vibrations traveled through the canvas and into Chiyo's very being. She could feel every inch of Katsumi's body pressing against hers, a constant reminder of her failure. The pain that had been present throughout the match now intensified tenfold, making it almost impossible for her to breathe.

But there was more than just pain, it was a moment of suffocating intimacy, Chiyo's body crushed beneath Katsumi's, with every muscle straining against each other. Sweat soaked skin did little too cool the searing heat of the moment. Chiyo's breast lay mashed beneath her opponent's ample pair, cleavage cupping together in such perfect harmony, that fans would be remise not to pull out their phone and snap a few private pics, forever cementing Chiyo's humiliating debut.

In that moment, Chiyo felt like she was drowning, suffocating under the weight of defeat. She was trapped, pinned beneath Katsumi's body, unable to move. Her mind raced, searching for a way out, but she knew deep down that there was none. She was helpless, at the mercy of the vixen.

The second slap of the mat was yet another nail in the coffin. Chiyo felt her heart breaking, her dreams and aspirations shattering around her. The crowd roared, and she could hear Katsumi's supporters cheering even louder than before. It was like salt in an open wound, another token to her despair. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks, a gentle downpour of misery and anguish. It was a sad moment of vulnerability, as Chiyo's body and soul were exposed for all to see. She felt as if she were being stripped bare, her innermost thoughts and feelings laid out in the open for all to see.

Then, the final slap of the mat...

"THREE!" The referee boldly declared, motioning for the bell.

The sound rung in her ears like a death knell. Chiyo's entire being was consumed by the darkness of her defeat, as she lay trapped beneath Katsumi's body. It was a moment of profound disappointment, as Chiyo's body was enveloped by the weight of the woman who had mercilessly tormented her tonight. She was ashamed that she was enjoying the warmth so much.

As the sound of the crowd reached a fever pitch, Chiyo couldn't help but wonder if this was how it would end for all her future matches. In vanquish. In darkness. In the cold embrace of our own failures. But despite the overwhelming sense of loss, there was a glimmer of hope in Chiyo's heart. She knew that this loss was not the end, that there was still a chance for her to rise from the ashes and emerge victorious. She had survived, if only barely. All she needed to do now was muster the willpower to fight another day...

[CyanDimitrik]

The third slap to the mat hits, and Katsumi hears the referee girl emphatically announce the pin. And with that, she finally let's herself relax.

The grip on Chiyo's bicep loosens, now simply holding her arm. The hand on her cheek slides upwards, past her eyes to brush her hair back from her sweaty face, and comes to rest just over her brow, the hair tussled but no longer holding her face turned aside. Katsumi's face lowers the final few inches, resting her brow against the mat and lying cheek to cheek with Chiyo. She can't be sure if what she's feeling on her skin is just sweat or tears as well. But it didn't matter. She pinned her. She conquered her. She's hers in this moment, for all the few seconds it would last. But for those seconds, she would relish in the moment. In everything about it.

Red Hot Chiyo - pretty, young, fiery for her namesake. The two had been grappling and struggling together for God knows how long tonight, getting well-acquainted with each other's physical form. But it's only just now that Katsumi would secretly allow herself to enjoy it. The feel of the girl's chest pressed tight to hers, the sensation of her heartbeat pounding against her breast was somehow so intimate. The feel of her bare stomach against Chiyo's tight, equally bare belly felt incredible - skin sliding against skin, abdominals exploring abdominals. Knowing her favored target in this match lie beaten beneath hers was a thrill by itself , but the added welcome sensation of Chiyo's form sweetened it so much more. Bare thighs brushing along bare thighs, muscle to muscle, leading to their hips pressed tight together, leaving very little to the imagination between them.

Katsumi lie panting over the girl for a few long seconds, holding her there beneath her, her eyes fluttered shut. The image to the audience was easily translated: "Mine."

DING! DING! DING!

"Here is your winner! The Punk Princess! KATSUMI! OOOSHIIIIRROOOO!"

The referee is persistently pawing at her shoulder, urging her to let Chiyo go. And finally, Katsumi rolls aside, lying on her back beside the girl to stare, dazed, up at the lights, chest and stomach rising and falling dramati ccx ally with each labored breath. But finally, she sits up and shifts onto a knee. Her palm sets over Chiyo's tummy, deliberately over the navel where she'd administered the stomach claw, and with a smirk to the crowd, uses the other hand to point out at them, putting them all on notice. This person is hers. What she did to her, she'll do to any uppity newbie who acts wild.

Then, at last, she lifts to her feet. The referee grabs her right wrist, and her arms swing into the air in victory, cameras flashing to immortalize the moment.

Winner by pinfall: Katsumi Oshiro