***
Match Type: Verbal Submission Match
Victory Conditions: Forcing the opponent to say the words, "(Opponent's Name) owns my ass". There are no disqualifications in this match, and there are a collection of blunt instruments (paddles, riding crops, etc.) at ringside. After being spanked fifteen times, either with one of these instruments or manually, the spanked competitor must get into position for a submission hold, and cannot resist until it is locked in. Failure to comply by this one rule will result in punishment from "Big Sister" , who will be overseeing the match and carrying out 's will.
This match will be held within the arena built in the bottom floor of , her BDSM club.
***
Match Type: Verbal Submission Match
Victory Conditions: Forcing the opponent to say the words, "(Opponent's Name) owns my ass". There are no disqualifications in this match, and there are a collection of blunt instruments (paddles, riding crops, etc.) at ringside. After being spanked fifteen times, either with one of these instruments or manually, the spanked competitor must get into position for a submission hold, and cannot resist until it is locked in. Failure to comply by this one rule will result in punishment from "Big Sister" , who will be overseeing the match and carrying out 's will.
This match will be held within the arena built in the bottom floor of , her BDSM club.
***
Black Severin
Ring Gear
Jacket
(Ignore the way he looks here. The jacket's all that's important.)
Beatriz Yvonne Murillo Gutierrez
He'd been hunched over, elbows propped atop his gold-plated kneepads and his chin atop outstretched thumbs, clasped fingers in front of his mouth. His thumbs were giving his goatee those idle, telltale strokes that told her that his subconscious was trying to stave off nerves; he never did that intentionally.
Severin took a breath, in and out through his nose. "I've been fantasizing about being brought to a place like this. Not like a church, but, a general BDSM club, like, for a few years now. Being walked in by a cool, dominant lady, leash around my neck. Or even better, a collar."
There is a difference. A big one.
He brought a hand up to his neck, fingers brushing along the sides. There wasn't anything there -- not tonight, sadly -- but he could feel the leather. "Sometimes, I'm on my feet." He continued, without missing a beat. Beatriz was always a safe space for him over the years. There wasn't anything he couldn't tell her, and vice versa.
"Sometimes, I'm on my hands and knees. Because while we're in a place like this, I'm not a human being." The scenario was playing out in his head now, and the events got a wistful smile out of him. It was more powerful now that it could be made a reality. If tonight goes well, he'd see about coming back. "I'm just a...something: A pet, a possession, a toy...Whatever it is, she'd be proud of me. All the other Dominants, she'd tell them, 'This one's mine'!"
Beatriz simply smiled and listened. She wasn't exactly vanilla, but she wasn't all that kinky either. All the knowledge she had of this kind of scene was whatever she'd been told by him, Keira, and Emilia. The latter of whom was going to be in the crowd tonight as one of her alter egos. Renee, she thinks the name was? The girl has more faces than Mick Foley. And with as many bumps to the head she's going to be taking in this business, she'll be surprised if even she can keep them all straight.
"But tonight, though..." Worry was starting to creep its way back into Terrell's expression. "Like, I don't mind being dominant. Not like I used to. I mean...I always knew that I was more of a submissive than anything. This switch thing is new. And now that I know that there's women out there who'd actually like having me take charge and all that -- that I can actually do it well -- it's actually been a lot of fun. Still prefer being a submissive, but yeah.
But what they want me doing tonight, though..."
There it is. That's the crux of the issue.
"If it weren't for the 'no disqualification' bit, I wouldn't even have a problem with this match. Your boy would be ready to go to work! Please believe it!"
God, and she'd be ready to watch. Please believe it.
Speaking of which, she normally would've stuck to watching this sort of action on the site instead of in person, but he's been nervous about tonight. Even more so now that he's here. It made her glad that she decided to catch that flight, rather than afraid that her choice might make things awkward; he hadn't asked her to come.
"But that 'no disqualification' thing. You've seen how LAW is, right?"
"Yeah." It's a large part of why she's been avoiding Hentai in spite of her curiosity. No disqualification and humiliation matches have given her similar pause as well. The people running this promotion...They just, for the most part, do not give a single flying fuck about the well-being of the talent.
Yeah, there's the possibility of getting booked into something beautiful. Sweet and caring, like that match he had with Keira or the one with Collei Kushti. Something raw and primal, like the one with Daeva. Something competitive and fun, something proper. But it's just as likely, if not more so, that she'd find herself in there with one of LAW's many sadists, with no one on the staff caring to help if the worst happens. Not even security. Not even the referees bat an eye most of the time.
"That 'no disqualification' thing." And this isn't After Dark. She's worried for him. LAW seems to care even less for its male competitors.
For Terrell, however, his well being wasn't the concern. "I just don't have a very good feeling about what management is expecting here. I saw Onyx's first match. It got ugly."
"What did she do?"
"No, not her. Her opponent. Ivan Ramirez" One of LAW's success stories so far. Another one of the guys who's showing that the men can stand fast. Also, a ryona machine.
A name on the list of wrestlers that Beatriz would be avoiding, if she could help it. "O-oh. Say no more."
"Yeah. And that's the thing: When I first got here, this guy -- Mr. Henderson -- he made me an offer. Said if I roughed her up, I'd get paid extra for the match. A lot extra."
"So...?" She's had a close eye on him. That loss in the Kings & Queens tournament changed things with him. Led him to get rougher in his matches. Less hesitant, more dominant. But not sadistic. Not brutal. She didn't even think to ask him if he was considering taking that offer; she knew the answer.
"Well, I'm not gonna do any more than I've got to to win this thing. It's just..the amount they're throwing at me for this -- it doesn't strike me as 'it's okay to say no' money. Shit, and it makes me wonder what Onyx did to get on their bad side. She just got here."
"And why pick you, of all people?"
"Exactly! It's like they haven't been watching my matches."
"Well...Que se jodan. You do things your way. If they've got a problem with it, I've got your back. We'll Stone Cold Steve Austin this bitch!"
It didn't take Terrell long to come up with an idea. "Or Kurt Angle. Get DeFranco and Defoe out there in the ring, drive a truck full of jizz over there, and spray 'em down."
Bella snickered. "Milkamania is running wild!"
That one got a good chuckle out of Terrell. "It's milkman madness, bah God!" He stood, legs spread a little bit, hips brought forward, hands coming down to grip an invisible member. "Goku comes out of nowhere: 'Kumehumehaaa!"
"And Ryu: 'AhblewKen!" The lewd renaming of the fighting game classic was spat out. Terrell got it immediately and busted out with laughter.
"You're wrong for that!"
"Says the guy who came up with the Kumehumeha wave! Now I can't get that image out of my head!"
"Poor Chi-Chi-hehehehe!" He laughed through his speech. "Makes you wonder how they only had two kids!"
"The sperm that had Goku's brains heard that pussy's something you eat, and they figured it'd be a non-stop buffet if they stayed where they were. The ones that had Chi-Chi's brains realized that they'd have to contend with having her for a mother, so they said 'fuck it, I'm gonna sit this race out."
"Damn!" His laughter filled the room, and it would soon be joined by hers. Unfortunately, their moment of mirth would be cut short by a knock at the door that would bring them back to reality. Time to get to it.
"He'll be thar in a minute, lad!" She said in the direction of the door. Then she turned back to him. "If the push comes t' a shove, know dat ye 'ave Cap'n Bella Bonny's steel!" Resolute, she balled a hand into a fist and held it out in wait for his.
But while comforting, it was also worrying. The thought of her potentially suffering consequences for a decision he made...
The pragmatist in him was telling him that he shouldn't be thinking about this too hard right now. He knows what it'll do: Make him hold back. Make him weak. He can't let that happen again.
He bumped her fist with his. He'll figure it out. He's got to.
Bella set her hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eye, looking like an experience vet about to give him a pep talk. "But fer now, ye listen t' me -- I'll tells ye wha' yer goin' t' do: Yer goin' t' go out thar 'n make yerself her God -- make dat Black Cat accept ye as her lord 'n savior, ye will! 'N if she dares t' say 'I believe in ye not', ye use yer rudder t' put her down fer a nap better than any nip ever could! Ye rouse her, 'n ye repeat the process like dis was a queer retellin' o' the return o' Christ in one o' yer ruttin' pictures!"
Funny as hell, but no less inspiring: B's always had a way with words.
"Aye aye, captain!"
"So 'tis written, matey!" She went over to get the door and hold it open for him. "Now get out thar 'n make it come t' pass! Show dat pussy the dog ye've got in ye!
"AYE AYE, CAPTAIN!"
"ARRRR! I'll be watchin' at ringside! Hopefully wit' a nice, cold mug o' ale!"
And out the door Black Severin went, good and hyped, with a firm pat on the shoulder to help him along. Yeah, he's gonna do this his way. If management wants to see ryona, they're gonna have to find somebody else. Thanks, but no thanks.
He reached gorilla position and started on a few finishing stretches while Big Sister Mary was handling the introduction to the match.
Six-foot-one and two hundred and twenty pounds. Alix had said that she was going to be doing the announcing and the reffing. Gloria wasn't a woman who was going to tolerate any more shenanigans than the matches in her domain called for, and apparently, Big Sis had her trust to maintain order. Severin hadn't heard of her, but he'd been told that she was well-trained, along with being a Brick. Sound the horns. House.
They were all on the bottom floor, which housed the which looked less like a wrestling venue and more like a fight club setting, but fancier. Behind the crowd barriers, top and bottom, were long taverns complete with dining tables, spanning across three sides of the ring on the bottom, and two up top: The owner of the establishment, Gloria Kildahl had a section to herself overhead, directly across from the stage. The Muscle Goddess was kicking back and relaxing on a throne, with Ishigami Yuto on all fours, serving as a footrest, and a pretty woman dressed up as a sexy nun standing at her side, bottle of champagne in hand, waiting for the command to refill the glass in the blonde's hand.
Mary stood in the middle of the ring, mic in hand. "Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is a Vocal Submission match unlike any you have seen before! Paddles! Riding crops! Canes! Whips! Floggers! Handcuffs! Zip ties!" She gestured towards the implements waiting at ringside, the crowd's excitement growing with each one that was named. "And our contestants have free reign to use them however. They. Wish!" She paused, giving the audience of kinksters a moment to make some noise.
was one of those on their feet, one of the loudest voices behind the barriers. She was seated at a table on the bottom, right at ringside. Alone, for the moment.
"Ball claws, cunt punts, asses reamed and creamed! The Rapture has come, and these two warriors we've brought together to do battle for your amusement have agreed to put their bodies, their hearts, their very spirits on the line! Signing off for the vilest of degradation and violation!"
During another pause for applause, Mary held up two fingers, continuing on after it quieted down. "This match has only two rules: One: After you've been spanked fifteen consecutive times, be it with an instrument or by hand, you have to get into position for a submission hold of your opponent's choosing. No struggling until it's been locked in. Two: This match continues until someone has freed themselves from the shackles of their pride, and concedes that their opponent owns their ass! Loud and clear into this very microphone, so it can reach the ears of every last one of you wayward souls!"
It was a much smaller crowd than normal; just a few hundred. But one wouldn't know it, listening to them. Everyone was at the edge of their seats now, dying to see this thing get underway. Mostly: That speech had a returning Beatriz on edge with worry. Emilia? Not so much. After having gotten a taste of the beast Black Severin had inside of him through Daeva Asphodel, she figures his chances are good in a match this kinky. Especially if aphrodisiacs get involved.
Renee Cooper was here to network and see about getting a client or two. And just in case, she had that special toothpaste applied.
All glory be to The Muscle Goddess, and to you, our loyal Congregation! Amen!
"AMEN!"
"HAIL SATAN!"
Renee just had to. With the talk of a goddess coming from a woman dressed like a nun in a porno, inside of a building that been repurposed from a church...There was no containing her inner edgelord. The two women would get some side-eyes from other members of the crowd, but Big Sister Mary, however, was amused. "Someone will definitely be having the Devil excised from them, sister! Or maybe the Devil will be put in them. It's about time we see which! Play the music of our first combatant!"
Severin had a couple songs in mind for when he comes out for Hentai action, but this new song was meant for more straight-up action. Something that felt more appropriate with the no DQ stipulation. He stepped out into a darkened arena that was being lit only with golden strobe lights, a reflection of the color scheme he's switched to. He was going with it: Hood up, the darkness beaten back just enough to reveal his shape, but not his features. Not until a few seconds before the beat came in; that's when the spotlights started flashing. He stood in place, allowing a camerawoman working the stage the time to come in for a close-up shot that would be displayed on the jumbotron above for the viewing pleasure of those in the nosebleeds. Starting at his booted feet, rising slowly to capture the bling fitted to his leather pants and coming to a crawl when it reached his chiseled abs and traveled to his chest, eliciting some appreciative hooting and hollering from the ladies, and even some of the fellas.
A pointer figure gestured for the camera to be risen, up to a playful smile. He didn't really mind being the male version of a sexpot. The heartthrob, or whatever the proper term is.
"Introducing first! He stands at five foot eight, and is one hundred and eighty-five pounds of prime cut beef! From Milwaukee, Wisconsin: Black Severin!"
He peeled his hood back and started on a somewhat shorter than normal walk to the ring, clapping hands with the fans on the way to where he'd spotted Beatriz and Renee. B indeed had her ale.
He stopped by her, and with a glance, she knew that this was an occasion that called for their special handshake, which may or may not have been stolen from the One more bolstering act before he steps between those ropes.
"Ye've got dis, lad! Remember wha' I told ye!"
"Much appreciated!"
With a couple steps, Severin slid beneath the bottom rope, then kipping up into a three-point landing. Timed just right with the build-up to the beat drop, his hood flying back into place for maximum style. The hood was an accident, but the moment he felt it flying back over his head, he held the pose instead of going on with the exact routine he had thought out with his new music. Waited for the second pulse in the build-up, then threw his head back, flipping the hood back off his head, and his dreads from his face so he could make eye contact with the camera outside of the ring. And then some footwork to set up the move that's become a staple of his entrances in the arena: The windmill. Tonight, he was feeling the variant.
Beatriz got a chuckle out of that one; she knew that was an intentional choice. The drop finally hit, and the strobes made the place look a lot more like a dance club. Some people were even busting a move, to varying degrees of success. The most amusing was the woman the next table over. Girlie had been drinking from the first floor on down, and now she's gone and turned into Wonder if she's Australian too.
To match the amped up energy the place had taken on, Severin transitioned to even throwing in a double. Felt like something good to bust out in an event for a club's opening, finished up with a sweet to make his way back onto his feet. He slid his jacket off, brought it around to one side, and tossed it over to a ringside assistant.
Only for it to go way over, and into the crowd. Shit!
He'd intended to keep it. Maybe he was being a little too sentimental. After all, that jacket had been made specifically to serve as entrance gear. But that he was getting it at all felt like a milestone in his career.
Well, the dancing had certainly done its job. He was nice and pumped for this match.
Spanish to English Translation
"Que se jodan." -- "Fuck them."