L.A.W. - League of Anime Wrestling

Reverse Hentai Match — Score a fall by climaxing in a dominant position (as judged by the referee)
Best 3 out of 5

Three.

Two.

One.

In His DNA

The lights pivoted to the entrance ramp, where Laurent was already walking down the ramp. He swayed to the beat of Kendrick Lamar, mouthing the words as he slid towards the ring. Not that this was part of any act—he hadn't planned any act. It just felt right to Laurent, and if it was right to Laurent LaCroix, it was right.

Laurent

What the fuck was he wearing?

To be honest, even he wasn't sure. Some tricorn hat and old-ass uniform he dug up backstage. It looked hot when he looked in the mirror, so whatever, right? It felt heavy now, though. A drag, like a girl the morning-after. Trying to wrestle in it would've been a joke, so as he mounted the ring, he slung it off his shoulder and let it crumple on the floor. The hat went next, brushed off his head like dandruff on his shoulder.

He looked around the ring. He felt a couple hundred pair of eyes on his bare chest as he slid into the corner, arms on the ropes. He gave them all a salute—two fingers off his eyebrow and a click with his tongue. He tilted a mic to his lips. "What's up, what's up, what's uuuup?" His eyes slid over the audience, left, right. His mind was already looping through which ones he'd want to meet after the match—which one of these cuties should he offer an all-night backstage pass to spend in the dressing room of LAW's hottest new commodity?

"Mmmhm. Mhm. I'll tell you what's up tonight, Tokyo. Laurent LaCroix is up, and that's what's gonna be up. Mmmmmhm. But most of all, this dick..." Laurent gave his hips a thrust while keeping his shoulders stable and knees splayed. One, two, three times, as his smile grew. "...is gonna be down the throat of whatever sad little bitch LAW is gonna throw our way."

You know, if Laurent was really honest, he felt a little relieved. So many people told him this shit was gonna be hard. He should've known better.

"Who's down with that?"

The crowd cheered.

"I said who's dooooown with a full. Course. of diiiiick tonight?"

"We're down!!"

"Fuck right you are."

Everything about this guy - from his outfit to his music to his attitude - screamed 'slime'. It was nothing that Audrey wasn't used to by this point; she'd come to accept how common his type was, even. But this particular brand of cockiness never failed to get her blood boiling, especially when she was up against them.

She was here to beat these goons, to give them a taste of their own medicine, to bring their ego back to reality. That much never changed. It was why she'd gotten started to begin with. But even despite the anger and frustration, when it came time to put her money where her mouth is... she was nervous. Like she wasn't ready yet. She wondered if she ever would be.

It didn't help that the crowd seemed to eat up everything he said. Pre-match jitters, perhaps, but... they sure sounded particularly ravenous tonight. They knew what they wanted.

Music

Cute Lil Redhead

Her music couldn't kick on fast enough. Not just a good beat to help her focus as she bounded down the ramp, but a refreshing palette cleanser after whatever that nails-on-a-chalkboard noise that Laurent called a theme had been. It helped put her in a better mood, at the very least. It put some energy back in her step and enabled her to prance down the ramp with a peppy smile on her face, twirling and waving to fans (regardless of why they were cheering) like nothing was wrong. The show must go on and all that. Less sparklers this time, although the redhead didn't pause to take advantage of it. Not tonight. Tonight was a business meeting.

And maybe she was just a liiiiittle bit salty over hearing them cheer for her opponent's little speech.

The theatrics ceased when she got to the ring. Her eyes locked on Laurent like she was trying to burn a hole through his skull. She had her arms crossed until someone offered her a mic of her own. The redhead wasn't usually one for pre-match speeches herself, but she was feeling snarky after his jabs.

"I hear you have something special for me tonight. Very thoughtful of you, truly. I can only assume you need me to show you how to use it properly. And I'll be glad to do that for you! That is, if you're still conscious when I'm finished with you."

There. Short, to the point, and full of venomous contempt. She casually tossed her mic off to the side, not really caring where it landed. She said her piece. Her arms crossed again while she waited to see how Laurent would respond, although she figured she had a pretty good idea.

Laurent cupped his mouth over the mic.

"BOOOOOOOORING!"

As he combed his fingerless gloves through his blue locks, Laurent ran that little shpeal over in his head, looking for like. A scrap of originality. Anything. But no. He shook his head and and smirked. There wasn't a goddam word in that speech worth highlighting.

"Honey, speaking professionally? I've been more insulted by shit chicks said with a mouth full of my cock. The only thing more aggressively unoriginal than your mic game is the tits-and-skirt routine. It's called PER-SON-AL-I-TY, sweetheart!" Laurent emphasized each syllable of the word by slapping the back of his hand into his palm. "Let Laurent show babydoll how it's done."

He rounded on the crowds, one hand out to the seats. "Yoooooo shitheads!" As soon as he said it—Hell. Before he said it, Laurent knew it'd give his little handlers a heart attack. Insulting the crowd? B-b-b-but we want them to like you, Laurent! That just made it funnier when the crowd leaned in harder. "Tonight, my job is to make sure this chick over here doesn't put you to sleep. So listen up! I'm gonna keep a count. OK?"

"ONE!" Laurent threw up his index finger. The buzz from the crowd accelerated, and he already felt high. He grinned.

"Priority number ONE is gonna be demolishing her pussy. Only thing left after ONE will be a cream pie and a puddle of her shame."

"TWO!" It was a like a game. How long could he just keep getting louder? He felt like he was standing on his tip-toes, but the crowd ate it up.

"TWO is where I claim. Her. Ass. I'm gonna make her cheeks a gift from me to me and stuff it while she's...squeeeeealing like a pig."

"THHHREE!"

That was a lot of shouting. Laurent decided to let it bake. He rolled back into his corner, legs crossed, and leered back over at Audrey. In a much quieter voice, he explained three. "Three is where our nicely domesticated Audrey is gonna clean...my tired, dirty cock with her throat, and then she'll swallow load number three as her goodnight reward."

The mic dipped, lazily, towards his lips, and his eyes rolled towards the seats. "Can I get an amen?"

The crowd popped. Easy peasy lemon squeezy. So, what felt right to come next? Drop the mic, obviously. And charge? Get the match rolling?

Nah.

Laurent instead sidled center ring, extended a hand, and made clear eye-contact with his opponent before inviting her out of her corner with a smirk and a flick of his fingers. Here kitty kitty

Personality, huh? Well, it was true, trash talk wasn't usually high on Audrey's list of priorities. A few snappy one-liners ran through her mind anyway, but it didn't matter. The first word out of his mouth proved that anything she said wouldn't phase him, so there was no need to humor him.

Still, her eyes narrowed further. Babydoll. Yeah, she got exactly what she expected there. Ironic how what little personality this guy had was hidden by his pants.

At first, she was almost impressed by his address to the spectators, a taste of his performance. Always a valuable skill in this profession. But as more words spewed out of him, the tighter the knot that settled in the redhead's gut. She stood there watching him, arms remaining crossed the whole time, feeling increasingly ill as he explained - thankfully with relatively minimal detail - exactly how he planned to have his way with her. Audrey struggled to crumple and burn each mental image as Laurent implanted them in her head.

Well, he sure was ambitious, if nothing else. She met his gaze with her own, but it was anyone's guess as to the expression on her face. Anger? Disgust? Fear? Some combination of the three was likely the most accurate. She knew what she'd signed up for, but hearing it stated so blatantly to a chorus of cheers drew a frustrated blush to her cheeks. Nerves were a bitch.

Stay calm, she chided herself. Now you know what he's gonna do. Now you know what to look out for.

Her only response was to scoff and slide backwards to her corner. "Do your worst."

Laurent made the first move to the center, beckoning her to join him. Slowly, she started forwards, but Audrey wouldn't be offering any handshake today. She had to be smart about this. Staying out of his clutches was a high priority here... which meant the safest place for her was behind him. And if she could drag him to the mat from there, she'd be in business.

He just stood there, waiting for her as if he expected her to just step right into his arms. This was an opportunity to get the jump on him, Audrey realized, and she pounced on it, charging directly at him! "Catch me, if you can!" Her fist pulled back as she prepared for a punch - nothing but a smokescreen. Speed and size worked to her advantage as she fell to the mat, momentum fueling her baseball slide between his legs. She sprang back to her feet quickly, in time to bounce up to the middle rope - no time to go all the way up - and launch herself backwards! She spun in mid-air, wanting to land her crossbody while facing Laurent for easier follow-up.

Laurent saw the sequence play out in his head—Audrey charges, jiggling with her jiggle-tits and jiggle thighs, and—BAMMO! He charges, too, except faster and bigger and harder, and he clotheslines her overconfident ass into the mat.

Except Audrey ducked. Laurent's arm hit nothing but air. OK, no problem—he spun on his heel, hands up, ready to guard his face because he felt pretty sure she'd be popping up and swinging for his face.

Nnnope! Not her plan apparently. She went for the ropes. She jumped. She soared.

Oh, fuck

YES!!!

She landed in his arms. Tits in one elbow. Hips on the other. He had to take a few steps backward to keep his balance, but then he found his center, and there. She. Was. A big pile of girl in his arms. Jiggly, as he'd put it earlier. His mouth made an 'O', then spread into a grin. The skirt was covering her ass, mostly. How modest. His eye slunk up and down her body, then, slyly at the audience.

He gave the redhead a little tiiiiip. Angling her face towards the mat like he was pouring a glass of wine, though his eyes were not on her face. At first, the skirt clung to her ass, but he gave a shake. A little wobble. And it rolled down her back, leaving her panties gleaming in the spotlight.

He whistled, then hollered, "WHOOOO!", then licked his lips, and grinned—and he wasn't the only one licking his chops. The audience was full of its own whistles and catcalls. One idiot out there somewhere literally bellowed "MeeeeeOOOOOWWW!" You had to love these stupid bastards.

Alright though, time for the next exhibit. Laurent adjusted his grip: One hand to the tit, the other to her thigh, just next to her pussy. He stomped the ground — ONE TWO THREE! — and charged the ring corner.

Here came the iron ringpost! Flying in at face-melting speed! And here comes Audrey—helpless and kicking and Oooooh boy oh boy— He couldn't wait to hear what sound she'd make when her pretty little face met with the big CLANG!

Audrey charged. Laurent charged, too. She saw his arm extend just as she went down for her slide. Easy.

She sprung up. She rebounded off the rope. She spun mid-air to see Laurent already having twisted around to face her. He was fast, she noted, but it didn't matter to her which side of him she flattened first, only that they crashed down with her on top.

They collided.

It took but a moment for the redhead to realize something was wrong. Laurent was supposed to be a pancake. But they weren't on the ground. And his arms were not supposed to be around her like that.

Perhaps she shouldn't have challenged him to catch her.

A sudden wave of panic hit her as she tipped face-first towards the mat, like when sitting in a chair you know is about to fall over but can't stop it. Instinctively, she flailed, clutching onto the arm around her chest. She'd taken worse blows to the face by now, but that didn't mean she welcomed the accidental ones.

It seemed, however, there was no accident incoming. A tickle of fabric on her back told her what was actually happening here, prompting that trigger-happy blush to show itself on her cheeks, far darker than the pale pink of her underwear. An attempt was made to reach back and fix her skirt, but that feeling of 'you can fall at any moment' prevented her from ever getting her arm in position.

Laurent repositioned. Audrey's blush deepened. One hand between her legs had her feet kicking the air. But it was the location of the other one that kept her immobilized, his palm cradling her touch-sensitive tit like it was a stress ball. Audrey whimpered at the contact, but it was doubtful anyone - except perhaps Laurent due to proximity - would hear it over the rowdy audience. They knew what they came to see, and they were getting it less than a minute into the action.

Then there was motion, as it turned out that feeling her up was not actually Laurent's main intention. It also turned out that the mat was not the only thing Audrey could faceplant into, even if the alternative required some assistance.

In the milliseconds before impact, her only thought was, Why does everyone keep targeting my head?

*SLAM*

Laurent crushed her face against the post like a battering ram. She cried out, because how could she not? It could have been once, it could have been a dozen; the number of collisions didn't matter, the end result was the same. The redhead's vision swam with tears, turning everything into blurry blobs. Vibrations raced throughout her body, particularly noticeable in her chest, down her spine, and between her legs, sensations in those areas she recognized as existing but couldn't identify. Breathing, in particular, hurt, and she wondered if her nose had broken. The thought didn't make her panic nearly to the degree she would have thought. Her limbs, previously clutching on for dear life, had gone limp, as though she had forgotten she had them.

The redhead was well and truly dazed. Jiggly putty in Laurent's arms.

Just before they slammed into the post, Laurent swung Audrey like a pendulum. Her ass went up, hung frozen in the air for a sliver of a second, then—

The crowd cringed. All of them. Laurent watched it pass through them like a shiver, legs crossed, hands covering mouths. "Ooooof." Meanwhile, the announcer brayed and hammered—That poor girl!

That poor girl had her head stuck between ropes two and three, resting on the spring that connected the turnbuckles to the posts. Laurent dropped her, and her knees struck the mat. Her arms hung over the ropes, swinging like the limp limbs of a marionette.

And her ass—her ass was out. Like a bitch in heat. Presenting.

Laurent took one long look out at the crowd. Positioned himself behind Audrey, one hand on the left top rope, one hand on the right. Hips to her ass. And gyrated while he slapped her cheeks. smack...Smack—SMACK!

Sooooon, he mouthed, nodding. His gyrations became her jiggles, picking up speed as his cock rubbed her ass through his pants. His eyes flicked from one thrilled fan to the next. Soon. On the last smack, he squeezed, lingering for one last hold on her plush cake. When he pulled away, he tugged her skivvies down her legs.

One hand held the panties. The other arm looped her legs and picked her up. He slid the pink cotton down her flexing pale thighs, over the pink blush in her knees, down to her skinny ankles. And, if she didn't find a way to stop him, off they'd come, for him to hold and admire. Once they slipped off her ankles, he looped his arm back around her knees, gave one more tug to pull her out of the corner, and dropped her tits-first on the mat.

He held his hand to his lips, squinting like he was thinking reeeeal hard about his prize.

A grin spread across his face. He cupped a hand to his lips. "Who wants a SNIIIIIIIFF!"

It was a risky move. Maybe this audience wouldn't like panty sniffing—maybe they'd think it was weird. Uncouth.

Maybe Audrey would make like a pig and learn to fly. Those dirty bastards erupted in cheers, and when he swung them over his head like David with his sling, they lifted their hands for the catch.

Fwip went the panties. They arced, a pretty pink bird in the floodlights, and who knows? Maybe the bastard who got them really would be able to smell the bitch's pussy.

Laurent had other worries—like grabbing a fistful of Audrey's hair. Still resting? he thought, looking over her drooping face. Good. He lifted her to sit in the ring corner. Patted her face. And charged for the ropes at the opposite end of the ring.

His back slammed the ropes, his feet smacked mat, his hands shot up to point at the fans. The air whipped his hair, and he lifted his knee in an attempt to crack her chin one. More. Time.

Audrey's senses had become a blur, in both a figurative and literal sense. Everything was loud, bright noise all around her; colorful dots that danced when her head tilted, the spinning of the earth itself making her dizzy. She tried to close her eyes but that only intensified the colors, while taking away whatever balance she had left. It also did nothing for the throbbing headache.

Something was resting on her cheek. Wait, no. Her cheek was resting on something. Thin. A lower pressure beneath her dug into her chest. Soft but firm, but not comfortable, nor horizontal, so it was not her bed as she so wished. Honestly, who could sleep sitting up, anyway?

And then, motion. Out of the corner of her eye, directly below her. Her arms - suddenly aware her vision was coming back into focus - were swaying, but she was not the one moving them. In fact, her whole body was rocking lightly. Seconds after this realization, a shiver shot through her spine. And then another. It was on the third smack to her ass that she realized where they were coming from.

Then a different kind of pressure, like a tiny vice. And a tiny moan escaped her lips. That small sound re-ignited her senses; the bright noise became cheering people and overhead lights. The colorful dots transformed into an audience. And that tickle on her legs was her panties being stripped.

Belatedly, she began to squirm again, suddenly aware she could do so, but something was restraining her legs. And then she began to slide backwards. Her chin thumped the turnbuckle along the way, followed by a faceplant into the mat, and pain exploded anew.

A squeal came next, followed by her hands rushing to cradle her sore face. Then a voice, very close, far closer than the seated devils in the distance, and Audrey remembered she wasn't alone. She looked up just in time to see some balding punk in the third row leap up off his chair and snag her underwear like a baseball outfielder who'd just saved a game-winning home run ball from flying over the fence.

A yank of hair lifted her halfway off the ground and prevented her from seeing what followed, including the face that darkened the lights above as her eyes squeezed shut. Expecting some kind of punch or perhaps a hold, Audrey remained still. She wasn't going anywhere with her hair in his palm.

But no, instead, she felt herself being repositioned again. Nice and comfy with her arms slumped over the ropes to help her sit up. Laurent still thought she was out if it. Good. Audrey only offered a token resistance. Make it look convincing. She opened her eyes just a crack, enough to looked dazed but still see where he was.

He ran. Bounced off the ropes. She couldn't tell exactly what was coming - boot or dick, probably, both things she was not keen on allowing to land on her face - but whatever he was planning needed some momentum. He got close. She kicked.

"Surprise, asshole!"

Audrey pulled both her knees in close to her chest and sprung them forward and up, using her backrest and the ropes for leverage. Her knees bent and recoiled as Laurent's momentum betrayed him, carrying him directly into her shoes. He hunched over just enough for Audrey to catch his eye before she pulled herself to her feet with the ropes, then bounced upwards to sit atop the corner turnbuckle.

The moment Laurent began to right himself, Audrey kicked out her legs around his head, squeezing tight and pulling him close.

"Those were my favorite underwear, you sick bastard. If you were so desperate, all you had to do was ask. Let's get you up close and personal while I pop your skull like a balloon, how's that sound?"

When Laurent used to watch wrestling on his laptop, he liked seeing blows to the gut. Girls acted so silly after taking a knee or fist or headbutt over their bellybutton. He'd always wondered—how bad could it actually be?

Turned out—pretty bad. The first problem is just the loss of balance. The force of the strike bent him over, pivoting him around his hips. Next, the pain was intense. Not fresh, smarting pain, like a slap across the face. This was deep pain. Black, bilious pain deep in the tissue that screams Hey! These organs are important! as it slowly grows more and more intense, morphing over time into nausea.

But he had a bigger gripe—all that pain and "OOF!" and spittle interrupted his kick! And it slowed down his followup, until her legs hooked around his head and he got a face full of pussy (that part wasn't so awful, actually, a part of him reflected), and she SQUEEZED, and God DAMN she had legs!

Curvy, sexy, smooth...pretty strong legs!

You know what'd be sexy? asked his gut, as he staggered, face turning purple while both his eyes felt ready to pop. His face stretched into a goofy ol' smile as he answered that question. Outmuscling those cute little thighs?

Yup.

There was a crack between Audrey's legs, just in front of Laurent's nose. He slid his hands between them, grasping one leg each. And then pulllllled, hard as he could, using all the muscle in his back to tear her legs open. And if he succeeded?

Well then he leans head-first into the pussy of course...

...So that he could toss her legs over his shoulder and pick her up in an Electric Chair hold!

Audrey's surprise counter went off without a hitch, missing underwear aside. With her slumped against the ropes, position adjusted when her opponent's back was turned for maximum leverage, Laurent bought her act entirely. She kicked out her feet at the exact perfect moment for him to barrel directly into them.

Her follow-up went just as well. Seated atop the post, her legs, fueled by anger and spite and revenge, locked around his neck with a burning ferocity! She'd never put much attention towards crushing watermelons, but while feeling Laurent's head ready to burst, she wondered if perhaps it was worth further consideration; if it felt this good with a skull, surely the skin of a fruit would be even easier. Something to consider, at least.

Soon enough she'd realize she could use the additional practice, as even the fury of watching her favorite panties fly into the hands of some sweaty stranger wasn't enough to keep the pressure on once Laurent started resisting. The redhead grunted as she focused on trying to hold her position, but the scum had more arm strength than her legs, apparently.

She really should have seen the next step coming, all things considered. Pushing his face directly into her groin immediately after he'd chosen to expose it was a dangerous game; one that Audrey had taken the lead in, yes, but now Laurent was staging a comeback rally. With the inability to keep her legs locked, she soon found that blush on her cheeks resurfacing, as her crotch got a literal face-full. She groaned, but she couldn't really create any distance with her back already up against the corner, and squirming simply served to grind herself into him; a sensation she did not want to encourage!

Her legs went over his shoulder and she had half a second to wonder what to do; she could let go, maybe flop to the ground... she wouldn't be able to catch him again and hang there, not from this position...

His intent became clear when he lifted her up, her grip on the ropes torn away, until she was quite literally sitting atop his shoulders. Her skirt tried to fall back into place, only to crumple and pool atop his head. Audrey reached down to grab him by the hair, more an attempt to find balance as she swayed dangerously, unsettlingly, rather than to cause damage. She found herself leaning forwards... into him.

The pace of her heartbeat quickened. She could feel him. His hot, sticky breath against her lower lips. His nose brushing her tender flesh. The flutter of his eyelashes as he blinked. She knew what was coming. A wolf whistle from somewhere in the crowd was what spurred her to respond to it.

"Ohhhhh no. No, no, no, no. Not. A. Chance!"

One hand still tangled in his hair and her ankles crossed for support, Audrey rained down blows on his skull. Fist, forearm, elbow, whatever she could hit him with. In a way, she hoped he did dare go for the taste. Maybe he was one for dangerous games too; and this was one Audrey was sure he'd lose.

Hope you bite your tongue, you sicko.