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

[Baddie]

Standard Match: Win via Pinfall, Submission, or Knockout
Hentai Allowed


Kiena lay seated in front of the locker room vanity mirror, one leg draped over the other as she carefully applied the finishing touches to her eyeliner. A stagehand had been in here only moments before to hand her a folder with information on tonight's opponent, a last minute courtesy from the match organizers to help her prepare for her debut. No sooner did that stagehand leave than those documents found themselves stuffed into the trash bin at her side. The carefully prepared papers had not even earned a glance from Kiena's apathetic eyes.

The supposed courtesy had been more of an insult to her than anything. Do these oafs not know about my record working the indies? How dare they treat me like a rookie! A couple of deep breaths was enough to put the brief mental tirade to an end. She may be new to this league, but that didn't mean she was new to the ring. Perhaps upper management figured the lack of formal experience in hentai matches warranted a beginners welcome. Their naivety almost made Kiena laugh. They would see just how well versed she was at manipulating the female form: A fact that her opponent was going to become very acquainted with tonight, whoever the little tramp may be.

Kiena stood up from her seat before taking a few steps back from the mirror. The zipper of her leotard was precariously visible in the front, as if inviting anyone to dare and pull it down. It only went halfway up her body, leaving her belly and bosom nearly on full display for all to admire. She slipped on her stirrup leggings one at a time, the heel and toe cutouts providing her with a tactile feel of the cold tile floor beneath her. Not much was left to the imagination as tonight's intentions revealed themselves through the outfit: practical and salacious. The grin on Kiena's face only widened as she became entranced by her own beauty, her fingers running down the toned curves of her own voluptuous form.

Kiena Ono

A loud rasping on the locker room door quickly awoke her from her self-absorbed hypnosis. Another stagehand, this time alerting her that the time had come to make her entrance. Kiena made her way through the gorilla position, assuming a posture that radiating both strength and elegance with every stride. It was the same stance she had adopted down the runway as a model, and the same one that would be carrying her down the entrance ramp as she finally revealed herself to the stadium of thousands.

"Some of you may know her from the pages of Japan's naughtiest magazines, hailing from the countryside and making her debut tonight, let's hear it for the Model Murderer herself, Kiena Ono!"

Entrance Music

Cameras and spotlights quickly centered on her position as the sound of her entrance music shook the stadium in unison with the loud cheers from the crowd. She revealed a small grin as she stared up at the audience, posed with both hands at her hip. It was a completely different reception than the one she was used to receiving in her previous league. A cascade of boos and jeers usually accompanied her entrances, but then again, this was an entirely new audience, one that was unware of the crimes she was capable of committing in the ring. Give it time, they'll learn to hate me. And I'll learn to love their hate. The thought quickly transformed her grin into a sinister snicker.

Kiena walked down the ramp in the same way she had walked down countless catwalks before. Her eyes were fixated on the ring in front of her, entirely ignoring the scores of fans trying to get a high-five or wink from the scantily clad newcomer. Pathetic. If they want fan service, then they're clamoring to the wrong woman. Kiena was only here to please her own insatiable desires.

Dipping between the ropes, Kiena finally made her way into the ring. She circled around it's perimeter, her breasts bouncing with every step as she raised both clenched fists into the air, eyeing the crowd with a sultry expression. Still unsure of what to make of the debutant, the cheers continued to pour over her display, subsiding only as her music began to die down in preparation for her opponent's own theme. Satisfied with her performance, Kiena spun around on her heel and made her way to her corner, resting her arms over the top ropes as she stared down the opposing entrance with a morbid expression.

Despite the upbeat atmosphere from the crowd, Kiena knew that tonight would be no pleasant affair for her opponent. After all, she had a message to send to the league and all future challengers that she wasn't one to be fucked around with, and that could only be delivered if she won tonight's match in brutal fashion. A tongue peeked out from between her lips, swiping along her cherry red lipstick as the thought of the many things she had planned for this woman already sent waves of arousal tingling through her core.

[Malkavia]

Oh God, please spare me.

With uncharacteristic uncertainty, Madeleine had been questioning whether this match really warranted in the tongue-lashing she had dropped on her manager, Dave. She found her instincts validated, as usual, when she saw the debutant strut across the backstage television screen. A hired entourage saw to Madeleine’s needs: her makeup artist, her costume designer, her hair stylist...all of them did their part to accentuate her beauty, to express her power with gold trim and black silk. Unlike this slut, Madeleine was a combatant who appreciated real elegance and would pay whatever it took to possess that rare quality.

”You’re on in twenty seconds, Madeleine.”

If only the debutant hadn’t been there, Madeleine might have really enjoyed the feeling of cresting the golden wave of her entrance theme, of the crowd’s hungry gaze prickling on her bare back and, beneath the black skirt of her one-piece oufit, her bare legs. But no, she had to see Kiena. Kiena in the tasteless, typical outfit. Kiena, the tasteless, typical brat who had been ejected from her last promotion because she hadn’t even the self-mastery to resist the sensual temptation of some victim in a skirt. Coarse, perverted, flesh-hungry little harlot. Madeleine couldn’t even look forward to the conclusion of match, for when Kiena pressed her lips to Madeleine’s bare foot, the Countess would feel little more than dirtied. Worse, no one who counted would care about a win over some fucking rookie.

No, for booking this, Dave had earned every word spat in his face.

Of course, no hint of this disgust showed in Madeleine’s face. As ever, she wore a look of perfect equanimity and charm, and when the bell rang, she stepped forward with her usual greeting: An outstretched hand, palm turned to the sky, ready to accept Kiena’s hand and press her fingers to Madeleine's lips.

“It’s a privilege, Miss Ono.”

[Baddie]

The gloomy guise apparent on Kiena's face quickly turned into one of amused curiosity as her opponent stepped into the ring. Madeleine's face was blank and quaint, a clean slate that Kiena's inquisitive stare just couldn't quite read. There were no theatrics to accompany the women's entrance, only a sophisticated gait that carried her swiftly into the ring. Whereas every step Kiena had taken down the ramp had been honed and practice on countless runways, Madeleine's poise made every footfall look natural. The ease at which she carried herself already began to annoy Kiena.

Only after Madeleine had made her way to the center of the ring did Kiena finally lean off the ropes to meet her there. She couldn't help but scoff as the two finally met face to face, with Madeleine's outstretched hand left to dangle in front of the haughty woman. She glanced down, starting at her opponent's toes before slowly working her way up to her eyes, examine every inch of her smaller foe. She didn't seem the least bit menacing to Kiena.

"Oh you poor little thing" Kiena cooed, enunciating each word with a condescending pitch. Any doubts the girl's eerily content expression may have planted in Kiena's mind quickly dissipated as she loomed over the apparently inferior fighter.

Her gaze lowered back to Madeleine's well-manicured hand, leaving the entire arena in suspense as to whether or not she would finally return the formality. The girl's enticing features quickly gave way to the opportunity that had just been presented to her, a fact that would not be lost on either of them as Kiena's lustful gaze morphed into a hardened one.

"Yes... you'll do just fine." Kiena mumbled, satisfied with tonight's opponent. Fit, experienced, cute, and best of all, naive - Kiena couldn't have asked for a better woman to dominate in her debut.

With the bell already rung, she had no intentions of prolonging the pleasantries with a handshake. Instead, both of Kiena's hands would shoot out to grab onto Madeleine's still outstretched arm, fingers curling around the limb with a tight grip indicative of the woman's strength. Kiena would then attempt to pivot 180 degrees, bending over and forcing Madeleine hurdling overtop of her towards the mat on the other side in an over-the-shoulder arm drag!

[Malkavia]

If the commentariat on her previous matches were any indicator, neither most of the fans nor even her rival wrestlers understood the function of Madeleine’s match-opener of a gesture. They saw it as a courteous offer and an idiotic one at that, as naive and as earnest as a handshake. But Madeleine had won those previous matches, had she not? And not through naivety.

Kiena’s response to the test carried all the subtlety of a warhammer. The kind of personality opposite Madeleine made itself eminently clear: Closed off in a steamy dome of self-confidence, disagreeable and prone to neither mercy nor honor, extravagantly violent. Long before Kiena made her move, the Countess knew exactly the kind of explosion of force to expect—though before the slut made it that far, she first saw fit to make it personal: "Oh you poor little thing..."

The Countess branded a note like a tattoo deep into the flesh of the Red Book. Bloody. Permanent. Furious. But none of the smoke rose to the level of her eyes as Madeleine kept waiting, hand extended. Cold and glass-like.

Finally, Kiena found her route through the test and grabbed Madeleine’s arms. The grip told the Countess what she expected: Strong—even more so than might be inferred from the looming figure, a head and a half taller than the Countess. Then Madeleine’s training kicked in, her mind leap-frogging from the grip and the pivot to the almost Judo-like throw.

The Countess’ response was, on the side opposite the shoulder of the throw, to hook her arm and around her opponent’s core. From there, she kicked off the ground, up into the throw but in a direction perpendicular to Kiena’s momentum. The grip on Kiena’s core was intended to prevent the Countess from sailing over, and the kick would, hopefully, throw Kiena off-balance, onto her side, with Madeleine resting on top of the very shoulder over which Kiena had hoped to toss her.

And if all went well, the result? A failed throw. Madeleine in a strategically advantageous position. Not a lot of fireworks, maybe even a touch boring to the audience…in other words, it would be exactly the kind of tedious tactical outcome, Madeleine thought, that would cut a personality like Kiena’s.

[Baddie]

Usually, one had to act tactfully in order to secure the positioning required to execute an ippon seoi nage - a classic judo throw more commonly known in the ring as a over-the-shoulder arm drag. But in Kiena's case, the opportunity couldn't have come any easier. In fact, it had literally been handed to her. Presenting an exposed, vulnerable, and undefended limb to one's opponent after the bell had been rung? If anything, Kiena was going light on her opponent considering the seeming depth of her naivety.

Or so her line of reasoning went, until Madeleine showed that the gesture had been anything but naïve.

Kiena first knew something was off when she felt her opponent's arm wrap around her torso mid-throw, when it really should have been flailing in the air. Next was the sudden redirection of her momentum, which should have been propelling her opponent towards the mat, but was now redirecting only herself towards the ground and her opponent up into the air.

Wide-eyed and shocked, Kiena was only able to catch a glimpse of Madeline gracefully swirling around her, contrary to the sight of a flailing body which she had initially set out to achieve. The manipulation of her momentum disrupted all of her practiced footwork, causing her to instead tumble forwards and collapse harshly onto the mat on her side. To add further insult to injury, Madeline had landed rather gracefully on top of the Japanese woman.

"Wha - How!?" Kiena was livid, to say the least. Frozen solid by shock, only her eyes danced around the ring, still trying to digest the sheer expertise of the humiliating counter.

[Malkavia]

Madeleine’s elbow locked around Kiena’s ribs, the two of them stumbled off-balance, and then—the ground rose up to meet them, Madeleine mounting a prone opponent from the side, Madeleine breathing down her opponent’s beautiful neck.

Slut. Slut. Slut. As the ground sent a tremor through the two wrestlers, Madeleine saw her opponent’s taut body as if in a snapshot. A body so much larger than her own. Richer hair, longer legs, softer skin. A body God had filled closer to the top than Madeleine’s. And those leggings—they popped, as if they were under a light all their own, a soft spotlight for the dark authority of the leather, contrasted—no, complemented by the sensuality of the bare heel and toes.

(The blonde hitched a short, violent breath as her nails dug deeper into Kiena’s side. Madeleine was wet. Wet as the inside of nectarine. Fine. Accept it. Use it.)

...At this point, Madeleine would have liked to attempt a back mount, but it was too early and Kiena was too physically strong for any of the submissions Madeleine knew from that angle. Pounding Kiena’s head until she was woozy—that sounded delightful. But for that, Madeleine would need to lock in the mount, and she could tell at a glance sliding her leg’s around Kiena’s, capturing hooks, would be tricky at best from this position.

So instead Madeleine decided to try to pry Kiena further open, to expose an easier handle. Adjusting her mount from the side to be perfectly perpendicular, Madeleine would keep her grip on Kiena’s shoulder and back, then extend and lift one of her bare legs. And then, if all went well, gravity would help her deliver a crushing knee strike to the ribs.

[Baddie]

Appearances were a big thing in the ring. It was only Kiena's debut, but the former model was especially privy to how important optics were in wrestling. Madeleine's counter hadn't hurt per se. It was shocking to be put to the ground so effortlessly, yes, but far from painful. But it did make her look bad, and for a woman trying to bill herself as an unstoppable carnal force, looking bad was one thing she most certainly could not afford.

But the blonde was leaving her with few chances to reverse her situation. She lay overtop the debuting vixen, her light but commanding frame taking advantage of Kiena's shock to pin her to the mat. But the element of surprise couldn't last forever, and already Kiena's body began to stir into action. She could easily overpower this woman, she knew it, and once she did, she was going to make sure the blonde bitch could never attempt anything of the sort ever again.

Before she could enact her violent plans, Kiena felt another shift in pressure. Madeline was readjusting herself, positioning herself so that she was in the side mount position at Kiena's side. A small smile formed on the raven-haired woman's lips. Getting up would be a breeze now, if only she could act quick enough...

WHAM!

The strike had been delivered with lethal precision straight into Kiena's ribcage. Had she braced herself properly, than her larger and meatier frame might have absorded the blow, but Madeline had acted with startling speed. She barely had time to register the blow before she was already keeling over, her hands shooting to her sides to soothe the site of impact.

Her mouth was stretched out wide as she let loose a string off groans and wails, drowned out by the pounding of her feet into the canvas below. "GAAGH!.. Bitch!" It was the only retort Kiena could muster, one that she doubted would afford her any favors in the eyes of her opponent who now clearly held the advantage.

[Malkavia]

Controlled breathing lay at the core of Madeleine’s approach to combat. Too many rookies, caught in excitement of the match, would forget, would start to hitch in shallow breaths as their minds raced over their options. But the brain needs oxygen to stay nimble.

There was another reason for Madeleine’s fixation: breathing enhances all the glittering sensations unique to the ring. When the Countess’ knee struck Kiena’s side—thunk—Madeleine took in a hissing, delighted breath. As her chest expanded, as much needed air filled all the pockets inside her, fissures of pleasure arched over her heart, up her throat, down her back. She felt goosebumps.

“Poor thing.”

The Countess’ sotto voce whisper carried, at once so private as to be intimate, yet sufficiently piercing to reach the kids in the back seats. Not all of Madeleine’s training was in combat, and appearances—well, even Kiena seemed to have some inkling how critical were appearances.

Even as she exulted, Madeleine kept moving. The part of Madeleine that could counter an ippon seoi, the part that ordered her to keep quiet and wait when she was insulted—that Keeper understood this fight was far from over. The smaller girl took advantage of Kiena’s distraction and aimed for two maneuvers. First, she wanted to roll onto a sitting position on her larger opponent’s back. At the same time, she would aim to grab one of those spastic, kicking little ankles. The target was intentional. Of all Kiena’s assets, her shapely yet massive legs formed the most deadly weapons in her arsenal.

If Madeleine was able to roll into position, the next move would be simple, quick, and brutal: Push UP with her legs, JUMP, yanking Kiena’s leg up as high as the lithe and leg-toned Savate practitioner could pull it—and then slam the knee into the mat.

[Baddie]

Her opponent's precision was every bit as breathtaking as her beauty. Breathtaking in the literal sense that is. Kiena found herself severely winded by the jab into her ribcage. She took in large gulps of air, trying to regain as much of the oxygen as possible that had been driven out of her. Her body was accustomed to the tune of twists and submissions, not that of strikes.

Still, how a smaller foe like Madeleine was able to pack such a punch was still a mystery to the vixen, one that she would unravel in time. For now though, she needed to figure out how to reverse her situation, and fast. Until then, she had no option but to endure.

Madeleine clamored overtop of her, an angelic voice mimicking the same taunt that had slipped out of Kiena's very own lips not too long ago. The irony was infuriating, but Kiena's retort was still too stifled by pain to be delivered. Instead she maneuvered herself onto her hands and knees, preparing for a heroic rise to her feet only to be stopped by the weight of her opponent on her back.

She groaned as the pressure accentuated in her still aching ribcage, her opponent's weight enough to drive her back onto the mat. Her legs were yanked from her command by the ankles, the limbs now in the firm control of Madeline's hands. Her toes curled with dread as they found themselves suspended in the air, pulling the rest of the muscles in her leg along for the ride before they all found themselves plummeting into the mat below with startling speed.

Her unprepared knee clattered into the canvas, the rumble of her bones heard even through their thick coating of flesh and muscle. They were accompanied by the sound of Kiena's scream, the first real one of the match so far as the muscles in her leg spasmed from the pain. She curled into the fetal position, her leg cradled against her chest as she rocked back and forth on the mat in agony.

[Malkavia]

The audience for Madeleine vs Origa had been pure America, a boiling, heaving, chaotic mess of a peanut gallery. But this audience—they seemed more...choreographed. The Oooh! when Madeleine’s knee crushed Kiena’s ribs burst as a single groan. When Madeleine slammed Kiena's kneecap into the mat, trained marks couldn't have produced applause more crisp, more in line with the match tempo. In short, this audience seemed to Madeleine eminently Japanese.

Only one person moved out of sync with the orchestra. Kiena’s scream struck Madeleine as…primitive. A howl of pain. No culture designed that noise, no self-control directed it. As the slut cradled herself on the ground, Kiena's mewling displayed naked, bestial feeling.

The Countess ignored the red flutter around her insides, the salivating urge to kneel down, to allow her mouth to exploit the tender crevices of that body. Instead, she opened herself to her audience. Raising her arms, she beamed and glowed and invited them to join her. She began to clap: Four/Four time. Allegro.

Let’s finish her together, shall we? The audience took up the beat. Clap! Clap! Clap! The blonde conductor charged, launching her back into the north-side ropes. Clap! Clap! Clap! Bounce—she leapt across the mat, accelerating. Flawlessly, the audience kept the pulse. Vivace. Clap, clap, clap! Madeleine ricocheted off the south-side ropes. Presto! Clap-clap-clap-clap-clap!

Every crescendo demands a climax. Madeleine leapt, raising her right leg straight up, up towards the golden spotlights—and then once again brought all her force straight down, down as an axe-kick aimed at Kiena's neck.