Possum Queendom (Kira Valentine III [D] vs Dmitri Markov Voranov [D])

[DSX93]

***
Match Type: Den of Depravity Match

Details

A Den of Depravity match takes place inside of Kira's

during daytime hours. As Kira will already be present inside, the front door will be locked after the opponent steps inside, and their goal will be to find the key (which will be hidden in a place of Kira's choosing) and escape before sundown. Hentai is allowed and encouraged.

The opponent may be allowed a hint as to the key's location, but in exchange, they must please her in any way she commands until she achieves orgasm. They may also be allowed a certain amount of time to look around unimpeded, but they must submit to being bound. Binding will work as follows:

- If by the wrists, their hands will be kept in front of them, so as not to impede them too much should they locate the key. The opponent will not be allowed to unbind themselves.

- If by the ankles, they will be allowed more initial time before the chase resumes, plus an additional period where she must follow a minimum of three rooms behind the opponent should she locate them, before she can continue chasing them in earnest (for example, five minutes after the initial binding, followed by another three where Kira must lag behind before she can continue the chase normally). The opponent will be allowed to unbind themselves, if they can.

In either case, the opponent may request to be unbound, but in exchange, they must submit to being locked into a hold of her choice for a set period of time. If Kira manages to knock the opponent out, she may bind their wrists or use them to satiate herself.

Failure to escape the manor before sundown will render the opponent her Prisoner of War until she chooses to release them.

***

Kira Valentine III

Several names had been proposed to Kira Valentine III, several of them purported to be helpless victims. "Perfect" subjects for her to use to show off her abilities in her debut. LAW management has seen her work, but missed what made it fulfilling to her.

Everything that was good -- everything that was worth recording -- had come about through a hunt. There was an art to her depravity. Without that struggle, it was nothing but the garden variety femdom that any tall, blue-eyed blonde could pull off after she's been slipped into some leather and handed a whip. When this was pointed out to them, she was promised a fitting muse. Dmitri Markov Voranov was his name, and it was one that she recognized.

He made a name for himself in the indies, tripping up many an opponent with his Tae Kwon Do. A discipline that, as he applies it, would serve him well in the estate she'd purchased in Japan after her signing. Plenty of open space for his style to thrive in. Kira hoped that the coming exchanges of blows would be educational. The hole present in hers when she faced Hyosuke Watanabe in that maiden voyage into a pro wrestling-martial arts collaboration has since been filled, but her legs could still be better weaponized, she feels. And with her actions in Global Frontier Erotic Martial-Arts Wrestling having all but proven that she was guilty of the...misconduct that she'd been accused of visiting upon several past sparring partners in a court of law, she has no choice but to do her training in the field.

Best way to do it, if you were to ask her.

Kira's manor has been well prepared for today. Left spotless at the hands of a live-in staff that was dedicated: She wasn't a warm host. Spoke little to them unless it was to assign tasks. But she paid well, and with so many gifted wrestlers to take up her time, she saw no reason to hassle defenseless civilians. And her name had proven to be a valuable deterrent to others in the business who might have targeted them in a home visit, should they have been employed by another wrestler.

All but her butler had been given leave for today, and even he had little to do: Simply meeting Dmitri at the door and delivering him to her

(This is the general gist, not the exact look.)

a large, stony space that was something right out of the middle ages. Lit with torches and "adorned" with cages just big enough to contain a human being, a Saint Andrews Cross, restraint bench, a selection of whips and other toys and contraptions that a kinky mind might classify as pleasantries if it weren't for the room's drab and hopeless atmosphere. It truly looked like a place where an unfortunate soul might spend their last days.

The only anachronisms present would be the cameras that an LAW crew had placed in optimal spots both inside there and throughout the rest of the estate, and the pole that extended to the ceiling, installed just in front of the perch from where she'd be standing watch. It was built over the room's only entrance (and exit), meaning that she'd see him before he saw her. It was just the way she likes to start this game.

[BlackAkuma]

A boiler room brawl. That was the craziest match Dmitri had done in his - admittedly short - wrestling career thus far. When he was part of All-Star Wrestling, the promoter had this fun, old-school idea, of putting him and his rival at the time, Hiro Tachibana, in a boiler room and having them fight to see who could exit it first. While Dmitri didn’t care for hardcore matches all that much, he could admit it was a fun, if unorthodox, match type that required him to think on his feet and use the environment in exciting ways. A good time, in the end.

When LAW management gave him the basic gist of this match, he’d assumed it would be something like that. However, as he found himself outside the gates of a spacious mansion, he strongly suspected he was wrong in that assumption.

This was something else. Dmitri stood in front of the entrance, matchcard in hand, checking the address to ensure this was the right place. Somehow, when he read the description for this match, he’d figured a ‘mansion’ was just an exaggeration, that it would just be some fancy Airbnb they rented out for the match. No, this was the real deal. Massive. Spacious. Well-kept. He would wager any one of the rooms was bigger than his entire apartment. An awful lot of space for a single person?

That one person being Kira Valentine III. The name rang a bell, but not a loud one. He wasn’t a wrestling historian, but from what he recalled, there was a lineage there, one going back decades. Some less-than-savory rumors circled that name in recent years, centering around a wild incident in GFEMW. But said reports were inconsistent, a common feature of dirt sheet reporting. If the worst stuff was true, he couldn't imagine her not being in prison, much less getting hired by a reputable organization. People had been blacklisted for far less. So he wagered it was a lot of exaggeration. He’d met a few wrestlers who liked to let the lies fester, knowing it could build up their reputation.

Dmitri made his way up the driveway, hands deep in his jacket, taking his time as he headed towards the entrance. Even though this ‘match’ was predicated on him escaping before dark, he wasn’t too worried about it, figuring that was more for effect. It was hard to imagine any wrestling promotion wanting a nigh ten-hour-long match.

Hype, nothing more. This whole thing would be over in thirty or so minutes, maybe an hour if they stretched out the theatrics.

Even so, it was a lot of…well, everything. More than he would ever expect for his debut match. From what he understood, they’d been shopping this specific match around for a while, trying to find the right guy for it, and management felt he was a solid pick. Right guy, right place, right time. He had a decent catalog of matches from other companies, but he thought they would want to put him through the paces before they set him for something grand.

He wasn't exactly known for hentai matches, even though that style was getting more popular. The closest thing he’d done was some softcore stuff, and he hadn't set the world on fire. Dmitri was not a prude nor a virgin. He had experience with women. But he was no lothario, and was not whatever you would call a person into this sort of thing. A sub? His experience with BDSM was 95% from cultural osmosis and 5% from missed Google searching.

Maybe it wasn’t worth pondering. LAW was known for pushing boundaries and experimenting. He’d wanted a change of pace, and yes, he was getting it. Being a pro wrestler had taught him to adapt to strange situations; this was no different.

Dmitri sniffed, taking in the earthy smell of ozone—petrichor, they called it. Rain was coming, the darkening skies overhead, and he could already feel a light mist on his skin. All the more reason to get inside. He pulled out his phone and checked the clock. He was on time, good. His inner beancounter was alive and well.

Dmitri knocked out of sheer habit, then opened the door, stepped inside, and found himself amid a home with all the comfort of a mausoleum. The decor was fine enough, matching the opulent standard the outside had set, but it was quiet. Far, far too quiet. He’d expected a place this big to be echoing with life, bustling with servants, but he only heard a single set footsteps echoing through the halls, and those belonged to the butler, a short, unimpressive man with a blank face.

He wasn’t one for small talk, and after the barest of introductions, he proceeded to lead Dmitri into the bowels of the mansion, until he found himself in what could only be described as a medieval torture dungeon. Stone walls. A dusty bare floor. Actual burning torches as the only source of light. Cages, that he strongly suspected weren’t meant for dogs. It was downright rustic. European history was far from his favorite subject, but even so, this brought the Spanish Inquisition to mind. It was stocked with modern implements, BDSM instruments, a few he could vaguely recognize and many he couldn't.

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

The words crossed his minds as he inspected a few of the ‘toys’, idly feeling a bullwhip before he tossed it back down with a grossed grimace. He looked about, confused - the one thing he didn’t see was his opponent. The match card had said she would already be here, but he saw hide nor hair. Maybe she was still freshening up?

”Hello?” He called out as he picked up a pair of handcuffs and inspected it. Weren’t the kink versions of these supposed to have a safety latch? Couldn't find one. He put them back down and scanned the whole room, which was notably missing the butler. Dmitri hadn't even heard him leave.

”Excuse me? Kira-san? Anyone?" He whistled and got an echo in response. "I’m your opponent. If I’m early, just let me know.”

The Hunted

[DSX93]

There was no light in his expression when he laid his eyes on the various toys, devices, and appliances strewn about. And very little recognition, but he surely had some kind of idea of what kind of game this was going to be. Many people in his place would practically be jumping for joy right now, even those who knew of her history.

One especially foolish hornball would let her tie him to the cross, facing towards it. "You can rape me anytime", he said just before. "I like to tenderize my meat before I ride it." She would say in response, resisting the urge to roll her eyes as she went to retrieve a whip. Not Rosie. This man was a known masochist, so she wouldn't employ her favorite for the job. Just some regular whip. "Tenderize away. A little pain ain't nothin'." And tenderize away, she would, her ears being disgraced with the wrong type of screams. But it would be worth it.

At the end, he was rock hard and begging to be fucked. And Kira would oblige him...with a strap-on, something he'd fought like hell to avoid having stuck inside of him the week prior. When she was done, he had a thousand yard stare with tears running down his face. She ran her fingers through his hair, like a mother would to calm a child. Took him in her arms. And circled back to what had been said and done: He made the invitation. Then he begged for her. And while he was doing that, he never specified exactly how he wanted to be fucked. And he was the one who gave up the match without a fight. He let himself be restrained. So really, everything that happened was on him.

He'd given up all rights to his autonomy. That match had the same prize as this one: The opponent themselves, until such a time that they were no longer wanted, if it ever came. But she wasn't heartless. He was freed from his restraints and set loose. She had no use for a prisoner who'd walked right into bondage anyway. And seeing how fast he ran -- the fastest he ever had, she was sure -- after being so down for it in the beginning made for a good laugh.

The dungeon's miasma was having the effect she wanted, turning Dmitri off from the tools of her trade. It appears that Kira would have none of that from him. A point in his favor, if that turns out to be the case. But she didn't get her hopes up just yet. She needed to get a closer look.

"You are just in time." Her lovely voice echoed through the space.

The six-foot-four blonde bombshell's long legs went up and over the wooden barrier, then she'd reach for the pole and slide down, spinning her body at just the right speed to allow Dmitri a good look at all the skin and curvature shown off by the masterful web of leather that she was covered in.

"Stay there for a second. Let me look at you."

The intention was less to take stock of his physique. The footage of him had already sparked interest, and she planned on getting a more...intimate view of him before the sun goes down. What she really wanted to see here was how he would respond to her as she took those first few steps forward, each one producing jiggling of her scantily covered chest. Would he obey? Would there be some form of pushback? And what of her eyes, altered with the purpose of appearing inhuman? Would they disturb him? Or would the rest of her be so appealing that he might be driven to...flex, maybe?

So many different ways this could go.

[BlackAkuma]

Dmitri swore, he felt Kira before he heard her.

He was only starting to get the eerie impression that he was being watched. The fine hairs along his skin stood at attention, and a cold chill came over him, making him audibly shiver. It was like his body knew something his mind hadn't totally understood yet, an ancient, primal instinct coming out in the presence of a predator. A little, niggling voice in the back of his head, a distant voice with one word to tell him: flee.

Then, he heard the voice. Female, thick, heavy, coming from above, a seductive flavor with a touch of malice. He spun about, confused, then looked up to see the voice’s owner descending the pole. Dmitri stepped back, partly from the shock but also from sheer confusion - his mind needed a moment to parse what he was seeing properly.

Kira was tall. A good deal taller than him, well over six feet, but that alone wouldn’t have been too worrying. She wouldn’t even be the tallest woman he’d ever faced, nor the most muscular. Not that she was in bad shape, mind you, but she was no bodybuilder. A robust and voluptuous frame, athletic, the kind he’d seen often from women during his wrestling days. Just taller than most. Considerably.

No, her build was the least remarkable thing about her, by a wide margin. He wouldn’t even say her attire could hold that title, though it came a good deal closer. A series of straps adorned her body and showed off her fulsome form, putting so much skin on display that he wondered why she bothered with the outfit at all. It was nothing new, though - he had seen similar outfits from wrestlers before, especially now that LAW was in vogue. This was not the first wrestler he’d encountered with a dominatrix theme. Just skimpier than most. Considerably.

But those eyes - those black and red glowing eyes - those were new. For a moment, he stood, transfixed, staring at them, as if locked under a spell. A first, he thought they were contacts, but he wore contacts himself, many of his family members did, and he knew what to look for with them. It didn’t seem possible, but he didn’t see any of the telltale hints. Those were real. Impossibly, eerily real, and when they combined with her mask, when she stepped forward with a succubus’ strut, reeking of lust and malice…

He stepped back, again, without even thinking. That tiny voice in the back of his head was even louder, now.

It took a moment for Dmitri to even register what Kira was asking, her request for him to stay still and be examined. He almost did it, too - maybe out of fear or respect, he couldn't say which. Whatever the case, he quickly brushed it aside. This was a match - the most unorthodox one he’d ever been in, but a match. The bell hadn't rung, but they were both on the clock, and he only had a few hours to do this. Given her size advantage, he needed to take her seriously and seize the initiative. There’d be no better chance than this to strike, before she was ready for offense.

Up came the arms, down went the knees, moving into his stance. Bouncing feet tapped along the stone floor, and he moved forward without a word spoken, closing the gap in an instant. Figuring it was best to start off with something reliable, he moved in with a low kick, aiming at the side of her knee. Whether it connected or not, he’d quickly pull the foot in and shoot it straight out, targeting her stomach to knock her a few steps back.

[DSX93]

He fell back, almost shrinking underneath her looming, menacing presence. But not quite. Their dynamic was there in his mind, established without another word being spoken and taking precedence over everything else. They were opponents only on paper. The reality? They were predator and prey, and he know who was which.

It stuck. And so much of it was due to the eyes. Kira expected the procedure to be painful, but it was actually quite manageable. And well worth it. Her eyes were something that were often complimented, directly or no. She read comments about how expressive they are, capable of saying so much before she even opens her mouth. That was why they had to change when she got her start in Hentai wrestling. Started being herself, truly. She wanted her eyes to a reflection of, as well as a window to her soul.

The tattooing itself was a statement. A testament to her commitment: She's fully aware that she's a monster, and that's exactly how she wants to live her life. Daphne Robertson and Kira Valentine III will always be one and the same, both in the ring and out.

And the mask? Kira wasn't so vain as to waste her time with the futile effort of keeping her scars hidden. Its purpose is simply to put even more emphasis on the eyes that narrowed as Dmitri stepped back. She hardly ever made an effort to appear affable, and now that he'd caught on to what she was, she tossed that metaphorical mask aside.

And then Dmitri remembered that he was a fighter. Fast. Smart, aiming low with his first attack. It's what she would've done in his position: Take out the legs, and you can explore the grounds freely. She raised her targeted leg, angling it so he'd meet either her knee or the top part of her shin. He had some good, rattling force behind it, but she stood firm. His offensive continued, with a slamming of his foot into her gut. It took her one, two, three, four, five steps to correct herself. If space was what he sought, her long strides had provided it.

Her eyes would flash with delight, and a low, wicked laugh would follow. The Beautiful Beast readied herself. Fists hovering inches from her face,

Stable, ready to face his next attack. The hunt...that remains to be seen. But the fight was on.

[BlackAkuma]

While this was a match, Dmitri would be lying if he said he knew exactly how to go about it. The closest thing he’d done to this was that Boiler Room Brawl, and even then, it was just a simple matter of escaping - he hadn't needed to find a key or anything beforehand. That complicated matters considerably. This was a big house he was wholly unfamiliar with, so many places she could’ve hidden the thing, finding it wouldn't be a guarantee even if he didn’t have to fight along the way.

So, he reasoned, his best approach would be to treat this as a submission match, instead. Bring the fight to her, get her down, whittle her away and get her to a point where she would reveal the location. Either through a submission move, or by simply pummeling it out of her, as unsavory as that would be. Then he could get the key and promptly leave - the less time he spent with those eyes boring down on him, the better.

In he came, ready for the attack, wasting no time. Taking out the legs made the most sense. Hers were long, likely powerful, but they had to support that frame. The weaker they were, the more they would hurt her in the long run, and they were something he could target throughout the day, if it came to that. The kick to her stomach was just to make some space and knock the wind out of her, both of which he seemed to achieve. An emotional victory, as well - despite the look, she was human. She could be knocked back, even staggered. That brought welcome relief to Dmitri, enough for him to step forward for the followup…

…only to freeze after a single step. That laugh. Maybe it was just the mask, but it didn’t sound human. Distorted, ragged, yet sickeningly sweet underneath it all. It forced a pause, and her defenses came up an instant later, lowering into a surprisingly solid stance, much more than he would’ve expected from someone wearing that outfit. She had some idea of what she was doing.

Dmitri respected her distance, staying shy of where he guessed her range would end. He inched his way in with a couple of slow, measured steps, trying his best to fight the magnetic draw of her eyes and focus on her body - no small task.

He jumped in - a quick step into her range, baiting an attack of her own, only for him to leap to the side and avoid the imagined strike. He mixed offense with evasion, launching a snap as her knee to continue that damage, before he bounced back out of range.

Testing. Just testing.