The Prima Donna's Diary - Chapter 9: A Pair of Prima Donnas (vs Ophelia Van Der Meer (D))

[Misfit_Alien]

Dear Diary~...

Diary Entry (READ ME)

Tonight, I'm facing off a newcomer in a two-out-of-three falls match!!! Two-out-ofthree!??!!? That's, like, TWICE the value for a single match. Talk about inventive!!! I've heard of these matches before, of course, but I'm still getting used to participating in all these new and unique situations. Like my match with Sandra, this is definitely going to be a test of my endurance. However, that's not gonna be the only deciding factor. It turns out that my opponent is, like-...wrestling royalty? Apparently, there are some families with GENERATIONS of wrestlers in their family tree, and it seems like this 'Ophelia' lady is a top-notch talent based on all the chatter I've been hearing about her.

Sooooo-...it seems like I've got my work cut out for me tonight, but I'm sure it's fine. Nothing like a nice match and a warm welcome to LAW, right? Maybe this could be, like, a fun icebreaker. It's just a debut, after all. Maybe, she's more nervous than I am about this. Maybe she needs a friendly face to help her out! With my luck and friendly charms, I think I'll actually manage to get along with this lady. Heck, maybe I can even learn a few pointers! After all, 'wrestling royalty' HAVE to know some tricks of the trade, right?

What's the worst that could happen, anyway?

Well, I've gotta get going-...So toodles!!!


XOXO, Yours forever~, Ami Anderson...The Prima Donna Darling~ <3

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Ami Anderson, the 'Prima Donna Darling' vs Ophelia Van Der Meer, the Superior Star
Match Type: "Standard Best Two out of Three."
Win by scoring a pinfall of three seconds on the opponent, forcing a wrestler to submit, or knocking the wrestler out. Two falls are needed to achieve victory in this match. Additionally, if a wrestler remains outside the ring for too long, they will be disqualified after a ten count. Furthermore, if a wrestler performs an illegal move and is caught in the act by the in-ring official, they will be disqualified.
Standard rules - DQs, Count-outs, and the submission or pinfall MUST happen within the confines of the ring.


After placing her diary back into her locker, Ami exits the backstage area, emerging through the curtain before being greeted with the familiar sight of a dazzling crowd, with a few more people cheering for her this time around as she makes her entrance. Seems her efforts thus far have netted her a small following, but a following nonetheless!

Her heart filled with joy, and she reciprocated the adoration and praise with a confident pose, letting the crowd know that she wasn't planning on letting them down tonight! The young starlet was eager to make another statement tonight, slowly trying to build up momentum on her climb up the ranks. Step by step, rain or shine, no matter the match type, Ami was looking to exceed all expectations. Even if her opponent was debuting tonight, she couldn't take it easy on them. Besides, if she treated this 'Ophelia' lady poorly, then it might make her and her family look bad. Ami knew that if anyone insulted HER family, she'd get angry and feel hurt...and 'hurt people' hurt people, after all! So, with a smile on her face and a quick twist into another flashy pose, the Prima Donna Darling traipsed down the ramp, strutting with style and passion as she made her way to the ring.

Spoiler

"...Making her way to ring, hailing from Los Angeles, California...standing at 4'11 and weighing in at 105 lbs, the brightest star in the sky...the sweetest diva on the stage...the PRIMA DONNA DARLING...AMI...ANDERSON!!!"


"I hope you're ready, LAW...because tonight is gonna be MAGICAL~!!!" She cheered, standing on the apron's edge, blowing kisses out to the audience before performing a twirling flip over the top rope, showing off a bit and prancing around the ring, soaking up the crowd's cheers before striking one final pose in the center of the ring. Afterwards, she'd move back to her designated corner, waiting for the arrival of her opponent...

Spoiler

[SweetHeart]

Spoiler

“Symphony No.9 in D minor” begins to echo through the arena. Not the usual bombastic flare of modern themes, but a deep, swelling classical overture. The audience collectively turns toward the stage, eyes drawn to the slow rise of a deep red curtain that parts dramatically down the center. A massive, radiant golden spotlight shines from above, forming a halo on the stage. Fog hisses at her feet like smoke from Olympus. Lights shift from deep crimson to imperial purple, sweeping across the crowd. The opening chords ring like the decree of an empress.

Suddenly, A column of gold pyrotechnics erupts along the sides of the ramp, illuminating a singular figure stepping through the curtain like royalty returning to reclaim her court.


“AND NOW…HERALDED BY THE HEAVENS…CROWNED BY HER HERITAGE…SHE IS THE STARCROSSED DIAMOND OF DOMINANCE…THE STERNESS RUBY HERSELF…SHE IS—"

“THE ONE AND ONLY!”
“THE MODERNIZED TOTAL PACKAGE!”
“THE SUPERSTAR’S SUPERSTAR!”
“THE CROWN JEWEL OF THE VAN DER MEER DYNASTY!”
“PRIMADONNA PRIME!”
“THE SUPERIOR STAR!”
“MRS. 110%!”
“THE FIVE STAR FACTORY!”
“CHOCOLATE CHERRY THUNDER!”
“SHE WHO SHINES BRIGHTER!”
“THE HEIRESS OF HEAVEN!”
“SHE IS…OPHELIA…VAN! DER! MEEEEEEEER!”

Spoiler

Ophelia Van Der Meer stands at the top of the ramp like a noble from a long-forgotten empire. Draped around her statuesque 6’6” frame is a dark reddish-maroon velvet coat, tailored with royal flair. The fabric ripples as she moves, catching the light in waves of burgundy and garnet. Embroidered along the trim are golden lion sigils, glittering with metallic thread—family emblems from her wrestling dynasty. The high collar stands proud and rigid, with cream-colored tassels and braids draped over her broad shoulders, swaying gently with every step. Her platinum blonde hair is styled sleek, not a strand out of place, glowing under the arena lights. Her eyes shine like distant stars, unnaturally bright and piercing, as if she were carved from celestial matter itself.

She walks slowly. Methodically.

As if every step must be savored by the masses. And they do watch, half entranced, half in awe, some even booing but unable to look away. A glittering meteor trail of soft sparkles follows her movements as a hidden device on her back releases a gentle stream of shimmering particles that descend like stardust. She pauses at a mirror held up by a waiting ring attendant (wearing gloves, of course), checking herself—admiring her reflection—before blowing a kiss to herself.

She finally unclasps her jacket, revealing a crimson and gold wrestling gear ensemble beneath, styled like a royal general’s armor fused with high fashion. Gleaming ruby accents catch the light across her chest and hips, which of course had various kiss marks on her sizeable bum, all of lesser foes defeated. She climbs the steel steps like they’re made of glass, brushing her hand along the ropes as though offended by their coarseness. She demands the referee hold open the ropes for her, and when he obliges, she saunters through, slow and deliberate, the embodiment of controlled arrogance.

Once inside, she makes a sweeping gesture toward the center of the ring, beckoning the spotlight once more. “Bow.” she mouths silently, arms out, head high. And the spotlight does return, bathing her in radiant gold as the crowd drowns the air with a mix of boos, gasps, and begrudging admiration. She gave a glare towards Ami. “Try not to embarrass yourself, Commoner.”

She finally returns to her corner, removing her coat and handing it to a ringside attendant as if they’re a servant. Then, she stretches, limber and confident, cracking her knuckles and rolling her shoulders. The music fades. The lights return to normal. But the feeling of grandeur lingers in the air.

This isn’t just a match for Ophelia Van Der Meer. It’s a coronation.

[Misfit_Alien]

When Ophelia entered the arena, it was as if a strange and never-before-seen being had stepped foot onto the planet's surface. She stood atop the entrance ramp like a dominant empress, tall and mighty, noble and elegant...refined and poised. Ami had NEVER been in the presence of such royal flair. She was captivated...from the music to the outfit, to the walk...it was all so grandiose, the sheer spectacle of it all was overwhelming. It was as if every single factor, down to the most minuscule of details, was refined to absolute perfection. When Ophelia entered the ring, Ami wanted to say something, maybe even introduce herself...but from the glare she gave Ami and the words she said to her, the young rookie was stopped dead in her tracks, frozen mid-sentence like a deer in headlights before snapping back to reality and speaking up for the briefest of moments.

"C-commoner...? That's-" Before Ami could respond, Ophelia had already sauntered away, removing her coat and passing it along like the staff at ringside were servants. What on earth was going on...? Well, she certainly knew how to make an entrance...and a first impression, one that left quite the sour taste in the Prima Donna's mouth. And speaking of-...WHY DID SHE HAVE SO MANY NICKNAMES!?!?! AND WHY WAS SHE CALLING HERSELF PRIMADONNA PRIME!?!?!?!? Ami could feel her cheeks burning red as she softly pouted, glancing off to the side. Sure, MAYBE Ophelia had been around for longer, but like-...SHE WAS TOTALLY CRAMPING AMI'S STYLE!!! Well, if that was the case, it seems she'd have to PROVE that she was the superior Prima Donna. Even if her opponent was over a foot taller than her, nearly a hundred pounds heavier, and likely...far more...experienced...oh boy-...it was becoming rather difficult to look past the negatives staring her dead in the face...

Well, here goes nothing...


DING DING DING!!!


Ami knew from the start that attempting a lock-up would be laughably foolish, so she didn't even try. She WOULD, however, bow respectfully toward Ophelia, looking past that 'commoner' comment and rude glare from before to politely welcome her adversary to LAW with 'open arms'...still staying a safe distance away before engaging. "Welcome to LAW, Ophelia-...For what it's worth-...I like your outfit...best of luck to you." She said, trying to remain cautiously friendly with the woman before standing upright again and proceeding as planned. If Ophelia didn't try anything first, Ami would attempt to bait out an opening grapple attempt before diving down low, trying to sneak behind the dark-skinned woman and deliver a swift kick to the back of one of her knees. Going head-to-head with her wouldn't be wise, so Ami had to think carefully about this and bring Ophelia down to HER level...that was, if she could even get close enough to the woman in the first place...

[SweetHeart]

DING DING DING!!!

Ami’s attempt at decorum was sincere, her tone polite, her bow respectful, and her compliment genuine. But to Ophelia Van Der Meer—The Superior Star, The Primadonna Prime, The Heiress of Heaven—it all amounted to little more than the obligatory chirping of a sparrow before being ate alive. The towering woman didn’t bow in return. She didn’t offer a handshake. She didn’t even acknowledge Ami’s attempt at sportsmanship beyond a small, amused smirk that curled the corner of her glossy lips.

“…Cute,” she muttered with the air of someone inspecting a child’s drawing. “But even your praise sounds common.”

Then came Ami’s attempt to strike. A flash of movement. Quick and sharp, as she looked to hit a sharp, precise kick toward the back of her knee. The impact landed—thwack!

…And did absolutely nothing.

Ophelia’s knee didn’t buckle. Her posture didn’t even shift. Instead, her head turned over her shoulder with smug grace, platinum locks swaying as she stared down at Ami with half-lidded eyes. The crowd buzzed with anticipation—was this woman made of marble?

The smirk widened.

And without a word, Ophelia spun—her leg snapping out like a whipcord in a devastating roundhouse-style kick aimed at Ami’s midsection. There was a sharp crack of boot meeting the girls flesh, and the Prima Donna Darling was lifted clean off her feet, sent crashing down to the mat with a brutal kick. If Ami didn't dodge, the as her small frame bounced slightly from the force of the blow, Ophelia’s long leg rose and came down hard on Ami’s stomach, the heel of her boot grinding into the girl’s midsection with deliberate, merciless pressure. She twisted her foot slowly, pressing her weight down as Ami squirmed beneath her.

“Did you really think that would work?” Ophelia purred, tilting her head like a disappointed teacher scolding a lazy pupil. “I should’ve known pathetic Prima Donna would dissapoint, it is just a title you play at isn't it. Oh, and thank you for the compliment, good to know you are aware you are lesser~.” She finally stepped off, dragging her heel across Ami’s stomach like wiping dirt from her boot. Then, with a flick of her hair and a dramatic turn on her heel, Ophelia strutted a few paces away, one arm raised daintily as if the very ring itself were beneath her.

[Misfit_Alien]

There was just no winning with this woman, for as much as Ami tried to be nice and polite and CONSIDERATE...something about this wrestling royalty diva was so off-putting, and it was more than just that disdainful attitude. Ami figured she must be one of those 'enough is never enough' types...never satisfied, never approving, ALWAYS critical...typically more so to others than themselves. It left a sour taste in the Prima Donna's mouth, especially after Ophelia so rudely dismissed her polite comments as being "cute" and "common". That, on top of everything else, was added fuel to the fire, and so after the bell rang, Ami RACED forward with a sharp kick to the back of Ophelia's knee...

However-...

The attack did next to nothing...or somehow, it managed to do even LESS than that, as Ophelia didn't budge a single inch. It was as if she were cast from pure iron, reinforced by steel, and glazed in a generous amount of gold. She shrugged off the attack like it was nothing, leaving Ami to feel as if she were fighting a brick wall instead of an opponent, but Ophelia was quick to dash any notion of her being just a tank, as she rocketed forward with a devastating Roundhouse Kick that surprised even the Prima Donna with how fast and explosive it was. A sharp pain suddenly burst from Ami's side as she was knocked over to the ground, tumbling away after the impact sent her flying. Her eyes widened as the shock of the moment hit her following a rough delay, leaving her coughing and wheezing, desperately gasping for air as she groaned.

Unfortunately for her, the lightweight would soon find herself being CRUSHED under the cruel woman's boot heel, being used as a doormat by the disappointed and unamused 'Heiress of Heaven', who continued to berate and bemoan Ami, ridiculing and criticizing EVERY little detail about her, not only burying her self-esteem, but ripping it to shreds and lighting it on fire first. It felt like it lasted forever, the grinding sensation still digging deep into Ami's stomach even after it was over, with Ophelia walking over her, acting as if this match was already finished...but as Ami defiantly stood to her feet, wheezing and sputtering, she was still prepared to fight tooth and nail with every fiber of her being to stop that from happening...

[SweetHeart]

Ami’s resolve was admirable. Even as her ribs ached, her breathing ragged, and the sting of Ophelia’s heel was still fresh across her stomach, she still found the strength to rise. But to Ophelia?

It was little more than a nuisance. Like a fly refusing to die.

As Ami stood up hunched over and groaning, Ophelia audibly scoffed, one brow lifting as she rolled her eyes with theatrical disdain. “Really?” she sneered, voice dripping with disgust. “This is my debut opponent? Honestly, what did I do to deserve this humiliation?” She growled, walking over with no sense of a guard, before backhanding Ami across the face, grabbing her by the ponytail and dragging her to the corner like luggage rather than a fellow competitor. The crowd murmured as she whipped her around and shoved her roughly against the turnbuckle. Ophelia raised her leg high with no trouble at all, and slammed her boot down against Ami’s face, pressing the sole firmly against her delicate features, pressing hard into her cheek, squashing her nose and lips. Ophelia ground her heel into her face, dragging the sole of her boot back and forth across Ami’s face like she was wiping filth from her shoe onto a doormat. "Ugh," Ophelia scoffed, not even glancing down as she applied more pressure. "You have got to be joking me right now, you’re just letting me do this. Has no one ever taught you how to defend yourself? I expected a wrestler, not a damn skinny chihuahua in a frilly outfit,” she hissed, casually glancing at the referee. “Shouldn’t you be embarrassed assigning me something this pathetic? Or are you all so used to mediocrity around here?”

The ref shouted at her to back off, warning her of a DQ.

Ophelia rolled her eyes and finally released the pressure with a slow sigh, before the pushing Ami's chin up with her hand and-

CRACK!!

Spoiler

An open-palm CHOP to Ami’s chest echoed through the arena like a thunderclap—so brutal, so sharp, the front row recoiled with sympathetic gasps. But even then, Opehlia wasn't finished with letting out her frustations on her. Ophelia lifted Ami once more—not to throw her, not to slam her, but to display her. She hoisted the barely-conscious Prima Donna onto the top turnbuckle, laying her limp form belly-down across the ropes. Ami’s arms hung over one side, her legs over the other, And then Ophelia climbed up beside her on the ropes, turning around, before slamming her giant lipstick marked ass onto Ami's back!

She'd totally squash the girl on the turnbuckle, Ami's belly squashing into the top top as Ophelia scoffed, sitting on the skinny girl. She only contuined to mock her position, pulling on her ponytail, smacking her head, clearly taking out her anger on Ami in a unapologetically cruel way. She began lightly slapping the top of her skull with the air of someone disciplining a misbehaving pet. The crowd booed hard, but Ophelia simply tilted her head and blew them a kiss—all while seated comfortably on her opponent’s spine like it was her personal chaise lounge.

The referee yelled again, threatening a disqualification, and Ophelia sighed, standing up with melodramatic reluctance. “Fine. I’ll give her some air, you sissy.” She stepped off the ropes, "aciddentally" bumping the referee as she walked by, dusing off her ass cheeks mockingly like she had sat on something dusty.

[Misfit_Alien]

Ami stood up on both feet, groggy and already in pain from just that first 'assault'...and what made things worse was that Ophelia seemed like she wasted minimal effort behind her attacks. Even more damning was the fact that Ami was aware enough to see that such a statement might just be true. Ophelia looked annoyed, peeved that Ami was standing back up. Instead of looking forward to an engaging match against a young, prospective competitor looking to make her mark, she seemed irritated that she had to spend any more energy putting Ami down again, even going so far as to openly criticize Ami's caliber as a wrestler in such a dramatic and boisterous fashion. As much as it pained Ami to hear, there was little that she could do about it. Before she could properly respond, Ophelia was upon her, backhanding the young woman with such vitriol and disdain, knocking the taste out of her mouth and sending her back down to the canvas from the impact. Ami's cheek and jaw were on FIRE. She curled up into a ball and whined in pain, feeling an agonizingly searing sensation course through her face while the dark-skinned woman dragged her along toward the corner.

Suddenly, she was placed into the corner, left standing on wobbly legs before having Ophelia's boot heel dig into her aching face, the so-called 'Superior Star' raising her leg elegantly with ease and demonstrating her incredibly form and technique, her posture unmoving...steady and stiff as a statue while Ami was left to crumble beneath the pressure of her heel, being crushed and ground upon like a doormat as the domineering, egotistical woman berated her while increasing the amount of pressure she placed upon her poor young opponent, whom she had nothing but admonishing words and disdain for, seemingly.

Ami whined and groaned in pain, every passing second feeling more torturous than the one before, until a PAINFUL chop to the young woman's chest jolted her awake, leaving her gasping and heaving for air as the wind was knocked clean out of her. Adrenaline carried her for just a moment before the unyielding pain burned its way through her upper body, causing her to fall...but Ophelia wouldn't allow that. The dark-skinned woman grabbed hold of Ami before she could collapse entirely, lifting her onto the turnbuckle to display her already fragile opponent for the crowd, propping her up in preparation for an impactful Banzai Drop that saw Ophelia SQUASHING the poor girl with her curvaceous figure, crushing her beneath her ass and forcing every last breath from the brunette's lips. On top of this, she continued to taunt and mock Ami with her words and actions, not giving her any room for mercy as she humiliated her in the most unsportsmanlike fashion possible, only relenting when the referee began to intervene once more.

After the fact, Ami was left to fall through the ropes, collapsing onto the canvas below in pain, her whole world rocked beyond belief as she was incapable of telling up from down or left from right. She just continued to huff and puff in her desperate attempts to suck in as much air as possible so she didn't pass out suddenly, her body screaming at her as if it was on the brink of shutting down...which may not have been far from the case, all things considered.

[SweetHeart]

Ami’s ragged gasps filled the arena, her small body trembling on the mat as if every ounce of strength was being siphoned away. The crowd roared, some with sympathy, others with cruel delight—but Ophelia? She wasn’t finished. Not nearly. “Pathetic,” she hissed, striding over and seizing a fistful of Ami’s silky red hair as the towering woman yanked her upright, only to force her down again—onto all fours, like a scolded pet.

“Crawl.”



Pathetic,” Ophelia sneered, her voice carrying like a lash through the arena. She bent, her shadow eclipsing Ami completely, and seized a cruel fistful of the girl’s crimson hair. Ami yelped, her body jolted upward against her will, spine arching in anguish as she was forced to her feet. But the reprieve lasted less than a heartbeat. With a violent tug, Ophelia wrenched her back down—slamming the smaller woman onto her hands and knees, like a dog too insolent to stand in the presence of its master.

“Crawl.”

Ophelia yanked Ami’s head forward, forcing her to stumble on her palms, her knees scraping against the canvas as she was paraded like a trophy caught in chains. Ophelia walked as if conducting an orchestra, her chin high, her steps deliberate, every sway of her velvet coat brushing across Ami’s quivering face like a mock blessing. “FASTER!” Ophelia suddenly snapped, giving a vicious yank. There, she released Ami only to shove her flat onto her belly. The young rookie had no time to react before Ophelia turned, her shadow falling across her back—

WHUMP!

Ophelia slammed her curvaceous frame down, butt-first, onto Ami’s spine. The poor girl spasmed beneath the impact, But Ophelia wasn’t content with just breaking her body—she wanted to break her spirit. Sliding gracefully behind her fallen opponent, the Superior Star hooked one of Ami’s arms up and behind her neck, wrenching her into a brutal half nelson before clamping down into a vicious camel clutch. Ophelia leaned back with theatrical ease, her long legs spread wide for balance, her chest thrust out proudly as she pulled Ami’s head high and choked her with her own trapped arm.

“Don’t you dare tap,” Ophelia growled, her lips curling into a venomous smile as she leaned down, cheek brushing against Ami’s ear. Her voice dripped like poisoned honey, audible even to the front row. “You’ll stay in this until I decide otherwise. You’ll suffer, Prima Donna, and you’ll learn exactly what separates royalty from YOU.” She wrenched back harder. Ophelia looked down at her captive, her expression serene despite the cruelty of the hold, as though she were merely adjusting the strings of a violin. “Tap… and I promise, you won’t walk out of here.”

[Misfit_Alien]

Ami tried to pull away, almost managing to break free of Ophelia's grasp...that was until the dark-skinned titaness of a woman released her preemptively before SLAMMING down on top of the Prima Donna Darling's backside, crushing her beneath those curvy, plump hips of hers as Ami was now trapped beneath Ophelia's figure. She groaned and gasped, the impact crushing her, forcing her to wheeze desperately for every bit of air she could pull back into her aching lungs, only for the starry-eyed wrestling prodigy to treat Ami to a painful submission hold executed with nothing but punishment in mind for the brunette. Before Ami knew it, she was trapped in a truly cruel Camel Clutch, modified to incorporate a partial Half Nelson just to choke Ami out a little, the tightness surrounding her neck making breathing that much harder as Ophelia delivered this combination maneuver with near-perfect amounts of precision as the torque and pressure forced upon the smaller woman's body was insufferable. Ami felt her spine flare up with torturous amounts of pain, all while Ophelia took sweet pleasure in watching her squirm and whimper in agony. Ophelia berated her, demanding that she not tap out yet, deciding that if Ami tapped for whatever reason, she'd ensure that the brunette regretted it for the rest of her career. Ophelia wasn't looking for an easy win tonight...she was aiming to make an example out of Ami.

[SweetHeart]

With her demands made to Ami, Ophelia would smirk, watching the poor prima donna bend to her will, along with bending her spine, as she clenched under her chin and yanked backwards! Sure, Ami could tap out here, it was 2 out of 3 falls, but after her commands she probably wouldn't want to submit. The crowd would boo and jeer as Ophelia mocked the poor girl, smuggly stretching her back, the feeling of her coming down atop Ami's back provided her with plenty of catharsis, crushing the lightweight flat to the floor, but it was the following camel clutch that really brought Ophelia's spirit back in full, the blonde fully set on humiliating her! Every second that passed would see further agony brought onto the slim woman's spine, and her screams of pain would only spur Ophelia on to pull back harder, she leaned back further, wrenching Ami’s head higher, her flawless platinum hair spilling over her shoulders as she tilted her chin in satisfaction.

“Look at her!” Ophelia announced, her voice clear and cold. “Your little commoner mascot—folded. Bent. Broken. This is what becomes of peasants who step to their superiors!” She punctuated her declaration with a vicious tug, forcing Ami to shriek again, her back arching so far her chest strained against her gear. The crowd’s reaction spiked, a wave of boos clashing with cheers for Ami’s resilience before—suddenly—releasing her chin.

Any kind of relief Ami's may have felt was fleeting. Her arms were still hooked tightly over Ophelia's sizeable thighs, locking her in place like shackles, letting her chest and head limp forward, as Ophelia struck a triumphant double bicep flex above her, not even holding her and still keeping her locked in with the brazen display—flexing proudly atop the broken frame of a much smaller foe, limbs still strung back like a puppet’s. Finally, when the moment was milked dry, Ophelia released her arms, letting them fall limply to her sides, standing gracefully to her feet, standing over her prone body, her chest rising with the thrill of control. She planted one foot against Ami's back and pushed lightly, rolling the smaller woman onto her back so the cameras could catch her flushed face, smirking as she casually strolled around the ring, flexing and stretching her curvy body waiting for her plaything to stand up again.