Match Type: Body-to-Body Match
Rules: Victory by KO or Verbal Submission. Contestants must maintain belly-to-belly contact to make the condition count. No ropebreaks.
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LAW was well and truly getting a mouthful of what Ianthe was all about. Any highlight reel that could be made on the burgeoning imperatrix would undoubtedly include every possible way that she pays attention to the body of her foes. The exotic pleasure-inducing moves she's dished out were equally lustful and physical. Her pure posh accent overlayed the degenerative and debauched remarks that came out of her mouth. Yet, no amount of footage could perfectly capture the mind-numbing pain and gluttony that the blonde goddess's opponents experienced when getting pancaked under a ruthless pig iron anvil. The titantron beamed across the otherwise dim-lit stadium shrouded in darkness, perhaps for the best. Ianthe's alluring voice radiated along with the entrance theme as the imposing Britishwoman undulated the scene with her physical presence.
The lascivious goddess stood adorned by dark robes and a hood that were signatures to the classic nun outfit. At first glance, it was a betrayal of the otherwise sexpot atmosphere. Yet, even this symbolic armor of chastity was damned by the amount of skin showing through, as the imperatrix's midriff and legs laid bare. At any moment, a gust of wind could send the loose shrouds of black flying off and reveal the true lack of shame behind Ianthe's attire. Not that she planned to keep this tease of clothing on forever of course.
The sizable woman approached the ring with the same confidence as was always the case. Her body looked forward to the prospect of a fun time. Shredded abs playfully flexed to anyone lucky enough to catch a sight of them. Firm breasts held a slight jiggle as nipples perked in excitement. Amelie Roux was going to have a wonderful time under her, she figured.
One could point out the cliché, a clash of the British and French. Hundreds of years of hostile interaction and warfare leading up to a contemporary, but far more sensual style of combat. Yet, in Ianthe's case at least, patriotism was the last of what she had on her mind. Naturally, if she held allegiance to anything, it was served to herself and cunt. Serving both in this case, was to get down and dirty with her curvy powerhouse of an adversary. The Frenchwoman's shape contrasted as a saucy roux-like texture foil her more outright brittle ridges. Amelie's tummy carried a thick fluffy appearance and supposedly had a reputation of endurance, something the goddess was more than eager to test. Before the opponent even entered, Ianthe had already imagined herself devouring the woman's tamed and squashed form flat on the mat. She wanted to get going in rubbing down Amelie raw.
With that, Ianthe slipped through the ring's ropes. Standing at her corner she tugged the shroud off with one fell swoop.
Spoiler
