Throes of Passion: Madeline Christiansen vs Cleo Hulbury

[Bare]

Hentai Endurance: Winner to be determined when one opponent is rendered unable to ride to a ten count following a orgasm

Cleo hummed softly in preparation as she stretched out backstage, quite a bit in fact. Leaning on a locker with one hand while one of her legs was extended straight up, almost parallel with her body, using her free hand to hold it to her body.

Limberness would be rather important tonight given her opponent and match up. After the successful defeat of Safiyah in her last, similar outing it appeared that management was eager to get her against someone similar in both stature and skill in a close match type, but a little bit further.

That's how Cleo found herself slotted against one Madeline Christiansen. One of the few opponent Cleo had on her radar in LAW that didn't hold gold. Beautiful, skilled, evidently excellent in lewd combat. Almost like a goody goody version of herself, and as a result Cleo was eager to squash the woman underfoot.

Knock Knock

"Ms.Hulbury? Its time."

Dropping her leg down after hearing the voice of the crew worker Cleo would smile softly to herself as she exited the dressing room, pulling her hair up as she walked the halls, tying her hair into a pony tail as a final finishing touch before this match, and to complete her new ensemble as well, which was already turning heads.

Spoiler

Stopping before the entrance curtain, the sound of the audience on the other side making her smile just a bit wider while clenching and unclenching her fists in preparation until finally her entrance music began to stream around the arena.

Spoiler

Stepping out with her arms up wide Cleo would stop with one leg in front of the other, posing proudly for the fans to a loud reception. Mostly boos, but quite a few cheers, cat calls and wolf whistles as well. Cleo's fanbase was rather shameless after all and she never hesitated to exploit them for that to generate more heat.

In any case Cleo would start to sensually drag her hands down her body in an oh so alluring way as she started to strut her way down the ramp with a sexy sway to her hips. Paired with the confident smile on the Brit's face Cleo would slowly maker her way to the ring, hopping onto the apron and holding onto the top rope while leaning back, lifting her leg up as far as it would go as she did so to pose for the fans.

Once done Cleo would pivot on her standing foot, bringing her extended leg over the ropes and curling her leg over it to lift the rest of her body along with it. Gymnastically entering the ring on her hands before performing a front flip to the center of the ring where she'd stop and hold her hands in the air, posing one last time for the fans. Dropping her arms she would turn and head to her corner, casually leaning against it in preparation for her opponent to come down and face.

[Lightman]

The lights dimmed into soft shades of magenta and white, pulsing gently like the beat of a velvet heart. The first chords of

slid through the arena, syrupy and dangerous, laced with attitude. A slow cascade of rose petals fell from above the curtain just as Madeline Christiansen emerged into the light.

She didn’t strut. She glided—hips swaying with each step, confidence bleeding from every inch of her frame as her honey-blonde hair caught the overhead lights and shimmered like spun gold. Her eyes, however, were locked straight ahead. On the ring. On her.

Tonight, she wore a new gear set—one that had already stirred up more buzz than usual backstage. It was sleek and elegant, soft mauve with white and rose-gold accents, high-cut at the hips and laced with subtle floral motifs, but with the same sensual edge that always clung to Madeline like perfume. The long gloves and shin/instep guards only emphasised the curves of her tall frame. Her expression? Calm. Cool. Dangerous.

She paused at the top of the ramp, hands on her hips, staring down the ring like a battlefield already half-won. Her eyes caught Cleo’s almost immediately, still lounging with that effortlessly smug energy. That pose, that aura—yeah. That was exactly what Madeline expected.

Cleo looked stunning. That wasn’t in question. The deep emerald green of her ensemble against her skin tone, the clever cuts of the outfit, how it clung to her and revealed just enough—it was calculated. Flashy without being cheap. Elegant without losing heat. Aesthetically? Flawless. But all of it was a signal, and Madeline knew exactly what kind.

Look at me. Pay attention. Want me. Fear me.

Cleo played with perception, and Madeline had seen enough of those types to know that kind of showmanship often masked something deeper. Or worse—nothing at all. Madeline wasn’t here to get caught up in a performance. She was here to win. Cleo had a reputation, and it wasn’t unwarranted. Madeline had seen the match against Safiyah. Watched it, studied it. She was agile, provocative, and calculated. Every move was made with dual intent—one for the scoreboard, one for the crowd’s imagination. The way she turned physicality into seduction wasn’t something Madeline dismissed lightly. But Cleo had never faced her.

As she sauntered down the ramp, Madeline’s gaze didn’t leave Cleo once. That faint, mysterious smile barely touched her lips—more curiosity than confidence. Like she was wondering what made the other woman tick underneath all the polish. In Cleo, Madeline saw a mirror, but not a perfect one. A version twisted just slightly—someone who loved control in all its flavours. Madeline loved control too, but hers was quieter, steadier, more precise. Less flash. More bite.

Reaching the ring, Madeline slid onto the apron smoothly, her movements almost feline. She grabbed the top rope with both hands and took a deliberate moment to scan the crowd, letting the rose petals cling to her skin and hair like a final touch of drama. Then, with a practised roll of her hips, she dipped through the ropes, entering with the elegance of a woman who owned every eye in the room—and knew it.

She crossed the ring with slow, even steps, stopping just shy of Cleo’s corner. Her eyes met Cleo’s again, cool and unblinking. The words didn’t need to be said aloud. They were written in the look she gave. Assessing. Calculating. Not dismissive, but not deferential either. She turned slowly and stepped back to her own corner, taking one final glance over her shoulder as if daring Cleo to follow her with her eyes. Let her preen. Let her pose. Let her play.

Madeline had already sized her up, and she had every intention of tearing that polish apart. Let’s see how she handled a match when her reflection bit back.

[Bare]

Cleo leaned back casually against the corner even as Madeline's entrance began in earnest. Quite showy and deliberate, with the rose petals falling to create atmosphere along with the oh so alluring entrance music of her opponent. It was a bit more theatrics than what Cleo used, being a bit more of a direct person herself, but even so she could appreciate the effort that went into Madeline's entrance.

Especially since Cleo was about to spoil all that effort by defeating the brunette here tonight. Looking up almost lazily as the woman approached her corner Cleo would offer naughty but a light, airy, yet fully confident smirk right back at Madeline, not at all backing down nor offering any sort of give towards Madeline and looking more than ready to clash, and eventually overcome her.

Of course Cleo would still watch the woman as she made her way to her own corner. Admittedly quite the sight to see if Cleo was being honest but she was content to simply watch, after all she'd have the woman all to herself soon enough.

As the bell rang to officially start the bout Cleo would casually push off the over and strut confidently towards the center of the ring, intent on meeting Madeline there, looking her over head to toe for a moment once she did, no words being necessary for the British woman just as they weren't for Madeline...

Instead after a moment Cleo would pivot on one foot, snapping her leg through the air to try and slam a high kick in her opponent's direction! Of course this was more so just to test Madeline's reaction and see how she would respond to such an opening move.

[Lightman]

Madeline remained still as the bell rang, her body poised like a wire drawn tight—deliberate, watchful, waiting. Cleo’s casual strut from the corner was a performance of its own, all swagger and self-assurance, but Madeline didn’t flinch. She didn’t so much as blink as her opponent approached. Her expression was unreadable, yet her eyes followed every movement—every breath, every angle, every flex of muscle beneath that shimmering green gear.

She knew exactly the game Cleo was playing. Confidence wasn’t just armour—it was bait.

So when Cleo moved, it was no surprise. A pivot, fast and clean, followed by a whip-crack of motion as that long leg came cutting through the air toward her head. It was sharp. Crisp. Dangerous. However, the move’s purpose was to test, not to incapacitate. And Madeline never failed a test she saw coming.

Her left foot slid back instinctively, the right twisting outward as she dropped her centre of gravity. She dipped beneath the kick with a smooth sway, the air above her shoulder splitting as Cleo’s heel passed through the space her head had just occupied. No wasted motion. No dramatic dodge. Just calculated fluidity—grace in defence.

But she didn’t retreat. Instead, Madeline stepped in under the arc of Cleo’s leg, her hips tight, her body close. Her right hand shot forward, fingers hooking behind the Brit’s standing knee while her left arm wrapped across Cleo’s waist in a tight, snapping grip. A deep inside trip—an uchi mata, but executed with precision. She wasn’t trying to slam her down just yet—this wasn’t a kill shot, either. It was notice.

[Bare]

Officially the match had begun and Cleo was the one to make the opening gambit. Closing the distance between herself and Madeline, and going for an opening kick.

Given what info she did have on Madeline she understood the woman was rather kick savvy as well so she had expected a kick in turn and to take her strategy from there. Instead however Cleo would be surprised.

Madeline would duck just under her kick, grabbing her standing leg and waist to pull Cleo off her feet and down to the mat! "Ngh!" Grunting softly in the process Cleo wouldn't allow her opponent to take advantage so easily.

While she was still in the air from the throw Cleo would pull her extended leg from the kick in front of her opponent's neck, reaching out with one hand to grab her for by the back of the head and pull her in against her appendage while also using her free hand to grab Madeline's hand that was holding her waist, trying to pull Madeline down with her to the mat in a gogoplata counter!

"Heh... you disappointed me a little... Here I was hoping to dazzle the crowd with a battle of kicks... but if you want to take things to the mat, I have no problem matching you there as well." Cleo would say up to her opponent with a teasing smile on her face!

[Lightman]

There was the familiar resistance as Cleo’s balance broke—muscle tightening, the subtle hitch in weight distribution—and she followed through without hesitation, dragging her opponent clean off her base. The soft grunt from Cleo was noted but not dwelled on; Madeline knew better than to mistake sound for surrender. Still, the moment of impact was hers. The throw had landed.

But then, in a flash of green and instinct, Cleo retaliated mid-fall. Madeline’s eyes narrowed as the extended leg from that opening kick suddenly curled in like a trap, hooking toward her throat while one of Cleo’s hands grabbed the back of her head, the other clamping down on Madeline’s grip at the waist. She recognised the structure of the counter immediately—gogoplata. Bold, fast, and flexible. Madeline would’ve admired it… if it weren’t currently trying to choke her out.

“Mm.” A low, almost amused hum escaped her lips, even as pressure started to build at her neck. “You really don’t waste time, do you?” Her voice was calm, laced with a faint, wry smile that tugged at the corner of her lips despite the squeeze closing in around her windpipe. “But I wouldn’t go handing out disappointment just yet, darling. You’ve barely seen the menu.”

Rather than panic or thrash, Madeline responded. She shifted her posture subtly, bringing her knees beneath her and tucking her chin—not to fully escape yet, but to buy space. She kept her trapped arm bent rather than straightening it, denying Cleo the full leverage she needed for maximum pressure. Her free hand slid up Cleo’s thigh, not in panic but in poise, carefully feeling out the angle.

And then—pivot. Madeline shifted her hips to the side and rolled toward the trapped leg, creating a narrow lane to slip her head out from under the shin. The air returned to her lungs in a short, quiet breath, and as her head popped free, her trapped hand stayed hooked behind Cleo’s knee. Madeline didn’t let go, but she tightened her grip, threading her other arm around the leg to lock in a figure-four hold around the limb. From there, she drove forward with her shoulder, threatening a knee-slice pass or leg lace to isolate Cleo’s lower half. If Cleo resisted or tried to twist away, Madeline could roll her over onto her stomach and transition straight into a calf slicer—lean, tight, and punishing—turning Cleo’s moment of flash into a painful reminder that on the mat, Madeline played for keeps. “Let’s not rush the foreplay. I promise I’m just getting warmed up.”

[Bare]

Despite one getting essentially flung down to the mat below, and the other getting pulled down right on top while getting strangled against a foot, both women were incredibly calm with smiles on their faces. Or at least, as much a smile as both could muster given neither had a necessarily painless experience. Still Cleo was the one in control via her gogoplata, so hers was one born more from smugness than anything.

Madeline however.... she had a different kind of expression on her face. It wasn't just calmness... it was excitement... no anticipation, she was planning something. Soon she'd move into action with Cleo feeling her lower body rise up along with Madeline's meaning she had her knees under her while tucking her chin in whilst keeping her arm in a way that prevented Cleo from fully maximizing her hold.

"Tch. Clever girl." Cleo hissed out but that wasn't the extent that Madeline had in her, as she'd soon come to realize. Pivoting her hips and pushing inwards towards Madeline managed to get under Cleo's leg and then wrap her arms around it in a figure four like hold. Not good. Madeline effectively put Cleo between a rock and a hard place.

As is she was nearly totally at Madeline's mercy, while if Cleo tried to resist she could be easily manipulated onto her stomach at which point Madeline could get into some seriously danger holds. Either way Cleo didn't like it but the latter was far worse since given the position she already had Madeline would sure target her legs, a part of her body that Cleo needed to preserve as much as possible.

So despite the situation Cleo remained calm, her slight smile not leaving her face as she looked up at Madeline. "Good to know... I'm looking forward to seeing just what you can do." Cleo said coyly while subtly raising her elbow, a last resort defense in case Madeline pressed the knee slice pass to keep her fully off of her, at least for a time.

More importantly thought Cleo would try and use her free leg to get her foot under her before pushing up suddenly with her free hand, raising the one she had squared before as a guard to try and grab Madeline by the back of her neck before pushing up with her free leg and twisting her body while pushing on Madeline's neck in a big to roll the two over and in the chaos of the roll she would look to pull her caught leg back, hoping to free it from Madeline's grasp if she was successful!

[Lightman]

Madeline could feel the vibration of Cleo’s breath beneath her—short, sharp, tinged with exertion but still laced with that smugness that had been present since the bell rang. Even with her leg caught, with Madeline inching deeper into control, the Brit kept that smirk like it was stitched into her face. It was admirable in its own way—if not a bit naïve. Madeline, meanwhile, was smiling too, but hers didn’t reach for dominance or bravado. It was smaller, quieter, charged with purpose. Measured. She was three steps ahead, not just reacting but unfolding a map Cleo hadn’t seen yet.

The shift of her knees under Cleo’s body gave her the lift she needed—not just physically, but positionally. Chin tucked. Frame tight. Pressure applied not in brute force, but in balance, leverage, subtlety. When Cleo muttered her little compliment, Madeline responded not with words, but with hips that pivoted sharp and tight, locking in that figure-four hold around the leg. Control. Not just of the limb, but of the match. She felt Cleo hesitate. Not enough to break. But enough to think. That was always the beginning of the end.

“Flatter me all you want,” Madeline murmured as she shifted her weight forward, her voice a breath against the side of Cleo’s face. “But you're not getting those legs back in showroom condition if I get to them first.” Her tone was honey-sweet with a slow curl of threat beneath it. She nudged inward again, a subtle feint toward the knee-slice pass, testing that elbow Cleo had ever so delicately positioned as a shield. It’s not just grappling. She was feeling out each defence before exploiting the next crack in the frame.

The shift came fast. Madeline felt the tension coil beneath her the moment before it happened—the shift of Cleo’s free leg, the subtle repositioning of her base, the hand rising toward Madeline’s neck. She didn’t fight the roll. Instead, she flowed with it. As Cleo pushed and twisted, Madeline let her own hips rotate naturally, her grip loosening just enough to not get caught flat in the chaos of momentum. But even in motion, Madeline kept her hooks—one leg briefly snaring Cleo’s calf, hands trailing the thigh as if memorising it mid-air.

The moment they landed, Madeline rolled through the escape, letting her back hit the mat in a tight coil as she immediately brought her legs up defensively, framing Cleo between them. She’d lost the leg. Sure. But the position? Still hers to command. “Slippery,” she purred, licking her bottom lip with a slow drag of her tongue.“But I'll always catch you.” And she wasn’t bluffing—because from the ground, Madeline’s legs were already shifting into position, baiting the next exchange with the confidence that came not from brute force… but from knowing exactly where this was going.

[Bare]

Just a Madeline finished her little cocky comeback Cleo would spring into action, turning the two of them over freeing herself and gaining the top position in the process, ending up right on top of Madeline in one fell swoop! Smirking as she did so Cleo would be very much aware of the coiling of Madeline's leg's around her waist, not quite ideal but Cleo wouldn't let it show on her face, besides she had an idea.

"Oh? Is that what you think?" Cleo purred out while caressing the woman's thighs gently, lightly messaging them as she did so. All before clamping her hands down on Madeline's legs before getting her feet under her and pushing forward, aiming to roll over Madeline's torso, pulling the woman's legs with her as she did so before bracing her legs against the mat on either side of the brunette's head, ideally catching her in a jack knife pin fall attempt!

Or at least that's what it would be if this was a regular match, but this was a hentai bout and Cleo had a plan as she twisted her hips to end up sitting on top of Madeline's face while breaking the woman's grip around her waist. If successful at this then Cleo would be facing Madeline's lower half while holding her leg's up... a position Cleo would use to lean down and start laying kisses and light bites on the woman's groin to start teasing and building up her libido.

[Lightman]

Madeline’s smirk had barely settled before the momentum shifted again—Cleo’s hips twisting sharply, her body rolling them over in a controlled sweep that landed her firmly on top. A clean reversal. Efficient. Too efficient to ignore. Madeline hit the mat back-first with a quiet thud, not startled but aware, already adjusting as she felt Cleo settle above her. She still had her thighs coiled around Cleo’s waist, but she felt Cleo’s subtle resistance. Cleo didn’t intend to stay locked up long. Still, Madeline didn’t waver or fight for dominance. Not yet.

Then came the voice, silky, suggestive...and the hands. Cleo’s touch glided over her thighs, teasing and distracting, a sensual misdirection that belied the pressure to come. But Madeline had no intention of being lulled by softness. The moment Cleo’s hands clamped down and her feet planted, Madeline felt the shift coming before it launched—a jackknife setup, designed to fold her in half and pin her shoulders.

Clever…in a standard match. But here? Madeline didn’t fight the pin. Instead, she let her core go slack for just a beat, letting her body fold as intended, until Cleo committed.

And that’s when she struck.

As Cleo twisted her hips, trying to slip into a dominant face-sit while freeing herself from Madeline’s legs, the brunette’s body surged upward with explosive timing. Her hands snapped up to Cleo’s thighs just as she pivoted, and Madeline popped her hips forward in a powerful bridge, disrupting the balance mid-transition. Rather than fighting Cleo’s movement directly, she redirected it. She slid her left knee between them at the apex, wedging it as a barrier between their hips. “Oh, you really thought I was just going to lay there?” She exhaled with a dry, amused laugh, the breath warm against Cleo’s inner thigh.

Before Cleo could fully settle or break the scissor, Madeline twisted. Her core flexed as she rolled sharply to her side, using her knee as a fulcrum and her grip on Cleo’s leg to drag her into a scramble. Legs still loosely entangled, Madeline slipped one free and posted her foot against the mat, preparing to either rise or strike, depending on Cleo’s next choice. Her voice followed with the same smoothness Cleo had used earlier. Taunting, tempting, sharp as cut glass. “Beautiful as you are, I’m afraid you haven’t earned your right to play there just yet.”