Avery Merritt vs. Beauty - Hell Hath No Fury

[BlackAkuma]

Match Type: Bedroom Bondage Match
Victory Conditions: To claim victory, a wrestler must force a leash on her opponent, handcuff her, then force a verbal submission.

***

Beauty was in a good mood.

By all rights, she shouldn’t have been. For starters, management had forced her into a match, wholly without her consent, as their idea of ‘punishment’. After her little clash with Avery and the resulting furor it caused, the fans practically demanded it, mad that their pretty new toy had been damaged. The blonde was a fan favorite, which Beauty found amusing all by itself - she strongly doubted the woman could stand to spend a single minute in a room with any of them. Not that she would, either, but at least they weren’t under any delusions otherwise. Idiots.

That was why she found herself here, sitting on the bed of a

, dressed in her

, watching an ornate grandfather clock tick away. Despite the luxurious setting, the mere fact of her being here, in a situation not of her own making, should’ve been enough to send her into a small rage.

And yet, the smile on her face was thin, wide, and glowing as she laid in the rich, satin sheets.

Beauty had anticipated this. Perhaps not exactly this - she didn’t expect LAW would go to such elaborate measures - but she had been in wrestling long enough to the proper ebb and flow of things, the cause and effect. She had ruined Avery’s match, taken a moment away from her, and the natural follow-up would be a match between her and the blonde. The fans would demand as much, and for once, she was more than happy to oblige.

As satisfying as it had been to lay waste to that smirking jackal of a woman, it was only a taste of what Avery had truly deserved for her transgressions. Using Beast as a pedestal for her own debut was one thing - something she could even respect, to a certain degree. But she had gone out of her way to make the match personal and draw Beauty into it, taking potshots at her throughout, and the little fool was surprised when it all blew up in her face. The stereotypical American in so many ways, thinking she could say whatever she liked, to whomever she wanted, and be free of all consequences.

So wrong. So very wrong. Beauty would demonstrate that to her, among other things.

For now, she was content to stretch along the sheets and watch the sunset over the Tokyo skyline, sending rays of red light scattering over the streets below. Her eyes fell to a table on the far side of the room, where a pair of leashes and handcuffs sat neatly, so clean and polished that she could see them shimmer from yards away. As the minutes passed, she imagined Avery with those around her neck and hands, on her knees, pleading and begging and crying.

Her smile grew by a couple of inches.

[RockRye]

Some time had passed since Avery Merritt’s match with Beast. Too much time, for her taste. Too much time because, after her clear victory over the monster of a man had been wiped away in favor of a win by disqualification, she had kept one target on her mind: Beauty.

Avery didn’t let people bother her for too long. When someone became so much of a plague to her mind that she found herself plotting their demise in meticulous, disturbing ways at random hours of the day, she disposed of them in those meticulous, disturbing ways, or if she could not be bothered, in efficient ways.

Beauty was a special case. She had gotten to Beauty first. She had been ripping the bitch’s plaything and husband right out from under her domineering heel, and the cowardly woman had blindsided her for it. Avery wanted the chance to rectify that. She wanted to finish what she had started, ensuring that Beauty understood her inferiority. Most importantly, though, she simply wanted to turn the bitch into a whining, desperate mess, so unbecoming.

Finally, she had her match to settle it, courtesy of LAW’s desire to see justice served for the attack. Avery had spent every moment since it was announced planning how she would not only humiliate Beauty but eclipse her entirely. Tonight was more than just a match; it was a showcase. Strolling confidently to the door of the designated bedroom for their match, Avery radiated dominance. Dressed in a fine white corset that displayed an expanse of cleavage, a thong that showcased her powerful hips, and tasteful stockings that hugged her toned arms and legs, she was a vision of devastating elegance. Every detail was meticulously chosen, not only to outdo Beauty but to outshine her, much like a diamond.

Avery

Swinging open the door with the dramatic flair only she could pull off (and no small amount of desire to clobber Beauty with the door if she waited in ambush), Avery stepped inside with all the presence and poise of a queen entering her court. The room was exactly as she expected: dimly lit, intimate, designed to highlight the inevitable spectacle. Her eyes immediately locked onto the leash and handcuffs, the key to this match. The sight of them sent a surge of determination through her veins. Those restraints would end up around Beauty by the time this was over. Avery would make sure of it. And then she would beg.

Her gaze then settled on Beauty herself, and for a brief moment, Avery’s lips tightened. The woman had the gall to look good, even to Avery's eyes. And worse, she looked poised, confident, as if the previous encounter hadn’t already established Avery as the superior, capable of fighting her own battles, commanding the flailing mistress' husband, and controlling the entire narrative of their spite-filled threesome.

It was infuriating.

But Avery was quick to mask her irritation with a smirk, her sharp eyes scanning Beauty with the scrutiny of a predator appraising its prey. The initial seethe turned into a calculated gleam as she stepped further into the room, her sandals slapping against the floor in a deliberate rhythm. She would have loved to rush the woman and bruise that pretty face the way Avery's had been bruised, but Avery Merritt did not do mindless rage.

“Well, well, well,” Avery began, her voice dripping with mockery. “Surprising.”

She made a show of glancing around the room, her expression one of exaggerated curiosity.

“I was so certain I’d find Beast skulking in a corner somewhere. Isn’t that how this usually works, Beauty? He shows up to do the dirty work, and you get to keep pretending you’re anything close to relevant, riding his coattails.”

She took a few slow steps, her eyes flitting under the edge of the bed as if genuinely searching for the absent man.

“But no,” she mused, straightening with a casual flick of her hair. “I suppose you’ve finally realized I’m too much for him. You probably locked him away somewhere, didn’t you? Just in case I decided to take him as my consolation prize after I finish humiliating you tonight. You were worried I'd say 'heel' and he would obey.”

Her words were like blades, each one crafted to cut deep, and the smirk tugging at her lips only deepened as she returned her full attention to Beauty.

[BlackAkuma]

Beauty would not have to wait long.

Soon enough, Avery came strolling into the room, opening the door and entering as if she owned it - which, knowing the woman’s hubris, she might very well have. For a moment, Beauty didn’t even react to her arrival, instead choosing to savor the feel of the softness beneath for a few fleeting moments. But then the woman had to ruin the scene by speaking in that crass, overly-accented voice of hers, and she was overcome with the need to respond. The so-called queen needed to be put in her place.

She sat up to see the woman standing there, dressed to the nines in an outfit that brought to mind a Victorian-themed stripper. Beauty would be lying if she said her opponent didn't look fetching in it, however, though she would certainly never admit as much out loud. There was a universe in which the two of them could be doing something much more pleasurable in a room like this - a pity they had to be at loggerheads, but examples had to be made.

She sat up as the woman spoke her piece, getting in all the taunts and jibes that Beauty expected. She had a sharp tongue, but if she thought it would prick her, the blonde would be sadly mistaken - as far as she was concerned, she was on the better end of their tit-a-tat, so far, and she showed as much with the slight, knowing smile on her face. She might have won Beast’s mind - temporarily - but Beauty had laid her out in the ring and left her broken. The score was in her favor.

”You were certain? You were certain you would end your debut triumphant, not under my heel, weren’t you? But you were wrong about that. I suspect you are wrong about a great many things, Avery.” Beauty slipped out of the bed and strolled about the room, idly kicking off her high heels halfway through the journey. ”Beast - my husband - had a lapse in judgment. A temporary. I’ve already taken care of it - you should think less of him and more of me.”

She approached her now, a slow stroll, taking care not to get within kicking range. ”Beast learned his place. Now, I’ll give you the same courtesy. I’m an excellent teacher, you’ll find, even for empty-headed little things such as yourself.” She tilted her head to the side. ”Shall we begin, сука?”

[RockRye]

Avery's eyes narrowed dangerously, her sharp blue gaze fixed on Beauty’s smug expression. That smile, the audacity of it, nearly sent Avery over the edge. She could feel the urge bubbling up, the temptation to storm across the room, seize Beauty by the jaw, and shake the arrogance out of her until it was replaced with something more fitting, like fear or regret. But no. She would wait. Avery Merritt was nothing if not calculated, even when the fury simmering beneath her skin begged her to lash out.

Instead, she let out a biting, condescending laugh, her voice dripping with mockery. "Oh, yes, how impressive you were," Avery began, her tone measured but razor-sharp. "Are you so pathetic that you're bragging about having to cheat to save your poorly trained attack dog? Mark that down as a sign of the gulf between us, Beauty. You see, as someone with legitimate victories to brag about, I don't need to stake my claim on something so… empty."

As Beauty began to strut around the room with the air of someone who believed herself untouchable, Avery’s nails pressed into her palms, a subtle but telling gesture that betrayed the intensity brewing inside her. Still, she didn’t follow, slam her against a wall, and kick her until she couldn't see straight. Not yet. Instead, she continued, her words laced with venom and precision.

"But you see... Beast, he’s worth thinking about. There’s potential in him, since, of course, he has the good sense to turn his eyes to me. You, however, are a lost cause. No redeeming qualities, no real worth."

The words lingered in the air like a slap of their own, but Beauty didn’t falter. She strolled closer, her confidence as maddening as ever. Avery, for all her calm, stood brimming with intensity, her curvy, statuesque figure poised like a coiled spring, ready to strike.

Beauty’s approach and question signaled their beginning, and Avery met the question with a feral smile. "Yes," she said simply, her voice low and resolute, as she slowly kicked off her sandals. "Let’s begin."

The sudden burst of speed that followed seemed impossible for someone with Avery’s voluptuous build, but she moved with the precision and swiftness of a viper. Avery surged forward, her arm swinging wide with devastating intent; she wanted to crack the woman's cheek with a slap equal to the one Beauty had delivered to her own face those short weeks ago.

[BlackAkuma]

Beauty prided herself on reading people; Avery might as well have been an open book to her now. This was her only time meeting the woman directly, but she got the impression that the blonde was not one to keep her feelings bottled up, not accustomed to a tight lip - no, if she had something to say, it would be said, loud and without a filter. She could only imagine the things that Avery wished to do to her, and she would not have to imagine for much longer, she suspected.

Good. Perfect. She wanted this woman heated, angry, enraged…stupid. The hotter, the better.

For the moment, she kept her cool, though Beauty didn’t fail to notice her clenched fists, taut and ready to strike. Soon. Soon. First, the woman had to get something off her bouncing chest, as she made a foolish attempt to try and shame her, one that brought a wry smile to her face.

Indeed, Beauty had heard this prattle before, and it always bored her. In this game, she used all the tools at her disposal in whatever manner she could. Adhering to some ignorant sense of honor was a weakness, one she had exploited countless times, and she would happily do so again, today, if the opportunity presented itself.

But that would come later, if it came at all. Now was the time for the opening shot. Avery could’ve lead with so many things - a punch, a kick from those thighs of hers, a grab at her hair, a choke. Instead, she showed how much their last encounter had rattled her with a slap, a receipt for the one Beauty had given her days ago. The blow struck Beauty’s cheek flush and sent her staggering to the side, a stinging blow that left her number and made her stumble.

But if she thought it was enough to make Beauty wither, then that would be one more thing she was sorely mistaken on ”Such fire.” She threw her hair back and spat off to the side. ”Good.”

Tempting as it was to retaliate with a slap of her own, Beauty resisted the urge and decided to go for something a little more substantial. Speed and agility would be her allies, here, and her best bet was to rely on them right away - she spun about, leaped up, and swung her foot towards Avery’s face, attempting to hit the woman with a gamenri across her pristine face.