Match can only be won by accepted submission after bringing their opponent to climax
Standard hentai rules apply
Clair paced back and forth at the geurilla position, gnashing her teeth while waiting to get into the ring. Her last match had been awhile ago - at least in LAW, having busied herself in some underground fights in the meanwhile. This would be the debut of her new attire, despite it being her serious outfit as opposed to her skin tight, easily tearable hentai outfit.
But it wasn't nerves that had her. It was frustration. Pure, blood boiling anger.
Not only was she being paired against a middleweight in this type of match, but a jobber at that! What fun could she have breaking someone so pathetic!? To make some one beg at her feet for mercy, when they lacked any pride to rend!? She was just fighting a bigger Mikoto! If she wanted that, she could have just stayed home.
She wanted to fight powerful lightweights, make them into moaning messes that wanted her hell to end. It was why she said as such at the end of Mikoto's debut against such a nameless whore, after beating her in her place with some other faceless blob. This was esentially making that proclamation fall flat on its face. Management set this match up for her, and either they did this to piss her off, or didn't know her.
Either way, whoever scheduled this was ending up worse than her opponent would be.
Spoiler
Spoiler

As she reached the ring, Clair grabbed one of the metal posts and braced her feet against it, swinging around from one side of the squared circle to the other. She pressed herself against it, softly grinding herself up against it as she fell to her knees. With one more kiss to the crowd, her legs shot up and wrapped around the corner, leaning upside down for a moment, letting them see what they could never touch.
Once she'd had her bit of fun, she pulled herself up and grabbed the bottom ropes, rolling under them in one, fluid motion. Something likely difficult for the average wrestler, but a mix of skills adapted from her time as a stripper. She put her hand on her forehead and raised one knee, staring up at the lights to end her little sight with a sensual pose.
Kipping back to her feet, she immediately went to her corner, and stared at the entrance. "You better not keep me waiting, bitch. Things are only gonna get worse for every second you take to get down here," she said under her breath, crossing her arms as her face hid the fury she felt. Counting each second as her theme faded and the Peptobismol prick began.

