Leather or Lace? - Avery Merritt vs. Beast

[RockRye]

Timed Submission Match: The match takes place on a ten-minute timer. The competitor who claims the most falls by submission (tapouts or verbal submissions) by the end of these ten minutes wins the match. The match is not "reset" after a submission is earned, allowing the scoring competitor to apply another hold.

The hallways backstage at LAW smelled like effort on show night. Sweat, stress, and that particular scent of hurried desperation clung to the showrunners like cheap cologne. Avery Merritt had passed three wide-eyed members of the ring crew on her way to gorilla position, all of them gawking at her like she'd materialized from another dimension. She didn’t blame them. She thought the same sometimes. She carried herself with purpose, silk and steel laced together in every step. She knew the effect she had, and more importantly, she knew what this night meant. Her debut. A proper arrival. And despite the Beast at the center of it, there was a certain electric excitement coiling under her skin. This was the beginning, her first true step toward recognition in a world that desperately needed her to raise its standards.

Still, she couldn’t help but sneer (as much externally as internally, of course) at the booking. Beast. That was her grand opponent? A name better suited for a discount protein powder? Pairing her, a woman of grace and calculation, with a walking jawline and not much else felt like a joke. A test, even. But jokes only worked when both parties were in on it, and Avery had decided to rewrite it before the set. She’d charmed the matchmakers and got what she wanted in the form of a submission match with a ten-minute timer, a showcase of session-like skill and technique rather than brute spectacle. No strikes. No pins. Just countable dominance. And just to make things sweeter? She had done her homework on Beast. He was tethered, as best she could tell, to a woman named Beauty. A complete vixen with smug sensuality that made Avery's lip curl just to think about. She hated the sight of her, if she was honest. They had some kind of intriguing arrangement, too. Avery had picked up whispers, seen a few exchanges that hinted at a twisted power dynamic It wasn’t just intimacy, it was control. Avery wanted a taste. Just to disrupt it.

A producer gave the nod, and her music started to fill the arena. Avery stepped through the curtain with an exhale of restrained pleasure. This was the moment. Every motion down the ramp was controlled and opulent, hips swaying, eyes half-lidded with disinterest, chin tilted just enough to make every person in the crowd feel beneath her. Halfway down, with the spotlight washing over her thighs and the air growing thick with the crowd’s attention, she paused. With a small, knowing smirk, she lifted both hands and brought them down with a crisp slap against her thighs. Firm, confident, a punctuation mark that said watch these. And they would. They already were.

Avery

Stepping into the ring, she began to unfasten the excesses of her entrance attire and place them in the the hands of the waiting official, revealing her cleavage and hips-heavy leotard in blue, silver, and white that shimmered under the lights. Her body was a weapon soft in the right places, strong in all the others. She cast a glance toward the stage, where the Beast would soon emerge. What he didn’t know, and what everyone else was about to learn, was that she didn’t need to overpower him. She just needed to entangle him.

She called for the mic she had arranged, and it was promptly placed in her hand. Before long, the lights dimmed slightly, and Avery ran a hand through her blonde hair, letting the mic rise slowly to her lips, eyes casting over the crowd like they were lucky to even see her.

“Before long,” she purred, husky, “this Beast's arms, his breath, maybe even his precious little thoughts… will be wrapped around my finger.” Her voice dripped with velvety cruelty. “That’s the difference between brute strength and actual power, darlings. I don’t need to crush anyone, though I do. I convince them.”

She turned slightly, presenting her profile like a practiced model, letting the crowd drink it in. “My name is Avery Merritt,” she continued, letting the name settle like perfume in the air. “I’m the woman your paramors are already insecure about, and the woman they will will lie to you about following online.” A few scattered gasps and whistles rippled through the arena. She smiled wider.

“And tonight, Beast,” she said the name like it offended her teeth, “gets to learn what it feels like to be properly tamed. This Beauty might be holding his leash now, but I promise…” She stepped closer to the ropes, lowering her voice just enough to make it intimate. “...by the end of this, he’ll be begging me for a collar.”

The crowd erupted, some in cheers, others in stunned silence. All of them watching, just as she wanted.

[BlackAkuma]

It was always fascinating to Beast how being married to someone allowed you to pick up on certain things. It was like a switch turned on when you took the ring on your fingers, one with special properties that allowed the wearer to notice things that would otherwise go amiss. The littlest details from your partner could light up like a signal flair. Words that they said or didn’t say. The way they walked. A flicker in the eye, a shortened breath.

His mistress - his wife - was an enigmatic woman by design, keeping cards close to her beautiful chest. But, in their time together, he had become a master at her emotions, enough to read her with scientific precision, and that knowledge allowed him to know, without doubts, that was absolutely furious.

It was slight, she hid it well, but he knew precisely where to look. Her face was placid, but there was a subtle twitch at the edge of her lips, as if she was fighting back the urge to sneer. Her face, illuminated by the television screen in the gorilla position, was an unflinching rictus, but that was a tell in and of itself. Usually, her eyes were scanning the environment, as if she was always thinking about what her next step would be and looking out for risks, no matter the setting. Now, all her focus was directed forward. He swore, she wasn’t blinking, and he doubted that anything short of explosions would draw her attention.

Her anger was simmering, in much the same way a volcano simmers before it blows. A white-hot furnace, primed to explode, and he almost felt a swell of pity for the woman who would be at the center of that inferno.

Avery Merritt.

Beast kneeled by her side, eyes cast to the floor, as he had been doing for the past few minutes at Beauty’s instruction. He had been in the process of licking her boots clean - typical prep work before the match - when they heard Avery speaking. Before, he hadn't given much thought to his opponent for the night, figuring this was just another debuting wrestler for him to tear through, the kind that came and went through LAW like mayflies. But when she spoke, filling the air with her grating American accent, he couldn't help but pay attention. And when she spoke…

He didn’t like to defy Beauty’s orders, but he couldn't help, but look up. Not to see Avery, but to see Beauty. To see the rage working its way across her face, especially when she dared to put his wife’s name into her mouth. He already knew what the order would be before he heard a word, but the confirmation was welcomed, all the same.

”Beast,” She spoke without so much as a single glance his way. ”Give her the worst ten minutes of her life.”

A few moments later and the two of them were making their way down to the ring while his

played. It was a softer song, one that did little to drown out the audience’s booing as they descended the ramp. It was clear whose side the audience was taking - half because they no doubt found Avery attractive, half because he and his mistress had done little to engender themselves with their debut, destroying a talented young prospect in her first outing.

It couldn't have mattered less to him, and he kept his focus where it belonged staring straight into the ring. Beauty trailed behind him as well, and he could feel the death glare going towards Avery. He could also feel all the punishment that would be coming his way if she wasn’t satisfied with his performance, to say nothing of what he would be in for if he lost. All the more reason to make sure that didn’t happen.

Beast breathed deep and promptly made his way up the steps and onto the apron. He dusted his shoes off on the edge, then slipped through the ropes and strolled over to his corner, never letting Avery out of his sight for a second. Grim, serious, he kept his gaze locked as he leaned against the turnbuckle and got in a few quick stretches.

[RockRye]

Beast’s music hit the speakers, moody and brooding, like a storm creeping over the horizon. It wasn’t the kind of music meant to excite; it was meant to unsettle. The crowd booed immediately, loud and hostile. Having shoved the mic back to the ring crew, Avery, lounging near the ropes with one leg lazily hooked over the middle strand, allowed herself a slow, satisfied smile. It was exactly the reaction she hoped for. LAW’s faithful already hated them, and if a crowd hated someone, it usually meant they were just waiting for someone like her to put them in their place.

Beast looked every bit the monster his name promised, a raw, carved figure beneath the dim entrance lights. But it was Beauty who really made Avery’s jaw clench. There she was, drop-dead gorgeous in that way that seemed effortless and curated all at once. Both of them stared holes through Avery from the moment they appeared, their silence a stark contrast to her ballsy promo. But Avery didn’t avert her gaze or shift uncomfortably. She stared right back, letting their little theatrics roll off her. She’d spent too much time around wolves in designer suits and snakes in perfume to be impressed by a stare. And when only Beast ascended the steps and entered the ring, leaving Beauty lingering on the floor like a poised overseer, Avery’s smirk only widened. Beauty's role was to watch.

She stepped away from the ropes and began to stroll across the ring toward Beast, her every motion soaked in grace and confidence. The way she walked, long legs swinging with poise, thighs giving a purposeful clap with each step, wasn’t just for show. It was her warning. She didn’t stop until she was inches from him, her head tilting, voice slipping out soft and cool.

“Hmm. You’re awfully quiet, aren’t you?” she purred, her body a ribbon of predatory charm. “What’s wrong, Beast? Too busy trying to remember your safeword? Or are you just worried I’ll make you forget it altogether?” Her eyes flicked to Beauty before locking back on the man before her. “Or are you still trying to work out what you’ll say to her after she watches me break you down and rebuild you with my name in your mouth?”

The crowd murmured in delight at the tension humming thick between them, and then, ding ding ding, the bell cut through the air.

Avery’s entire body shifted. The flirtation in her limbs vanished, replaced by a sharp, poised stance. Feet light, weight balanced, arms coiled like she was ready to strike and smother all at once. Her eyes never left Beast’s.

Once he emerged from the corner, she moved in. Not recklessly, but with hasty purpose. A prowling huntress closing the space, weaving in close enough that he couldn’t get the angle for a clean strike. Her hand shot up, not coy but commanding, fingers attempting to plunge into Beast’s hair and yank his head down. It wasn’t flirtation anymore, even if he could likely feel the whisper of her breath against his skin. Avery shifted her hips and brought her free arm up fast, snapping an elbow toward the side of where his head should be if she caught it.

[BlackAkuma]

Beauty looked on from the ringside area, tapping her chin as she idly strolled about the ring. Typically, she liked to find a nice place to sit and watch Beast’s matches, with her favorite perch being the announcer’s desk, but today, she wanted to take a closer look. She needed to get the measure of Avery Merritt.

Now that she was close, she could properly take in the woman’s form, and she would be lying if she said that the blonde didn’t cut an impressive figure. Tall, a couple of inches taller than Beauty herself, and significantly thicker. Avery would be well within the heavyweight class, thanks in no small part to the twin pillars she stalked about the ring with. Powerful legs. A kicker? Perhaps. Given her demeanor, though, it was more likely she used those thighs to grind her opponents to a pulp. Beauty did much the same with her own legs, but she had to concede that her thinner legs lacked that sort of girth.

On top of all that, Avery’s demeanor was familiar, far too much. While Beauty would never have called out her opponent as the blonde had so boisterously done, that came down to a personal preference more than anything. She preferred subtlety and nuance, while this woman leaned into her dazzling appearance with a personality to match, but their goals were much the same: Domination.

It had been a while since Beauty had found herself against someone with similar ambitions to her own. A true threat. Real competition.

She didn’t care for it.

Beast had his marching orders, and as the bell rang, he went about them. While she couldn't read her husband’s mind, he would know better than to let Avery’s little taunts get into him. She was trying to weave her way into his head, but she would quickly learn how foolish of a play that was. There was only enough room for Beauty in there.

The two moved forward at a similar pace - not rushed, but not hesitating, either, since time was a luxury neither of them could afford. While Beauty would’ve taken a more evasive approach, Avery was keen to engage and took Beast head on, seemingly undaunted by the size difference between them. She lashed out with surprising speed, pulled his head in, and threw the first strike - an elbow that connected clean across the jaw.

Not bad. Not good enough to keep Beast away for long, however. He staggered back, just a step, then lunged back in with arms open and attempted to engage Avery with a collar-and-elbow tie-up, trying to lock horns and push her hard towards the furthest corner.

[RockRye]

Avery watched with no small measure of satisfaction as her elbow cracked against Beast’s head, the sharp pop of impact echoing beautifully under the crowd’s roar. He staggered, and she smiled, chin high, shoulders rolled back like she’d just checked something off a list.

But he came roaring back, and fast. His arms locked with hers in a collar-and-elbow tie-up, and Avery matched him without flinching, her hands slipping into place against his shoulders, her toned, thick frame bracing as they pressed chest to chest again, this time not on her terms. She held her ground at first, feet planted, muscles tightening as they tangled for leverage. But his strength bore down on her like a slow-moving storm. Inch by inch, her heels slid back, until she felt the cold kiss of the turnbuckles at her back.

Still, she wasn’t done. Avery peeled her arms away from the tie-up with the elegance of someone who let herself be pushed and then snapped her hand across his face with a vicious, echoing slap. The crowd reacted instantly, but she didn’t break eye contact. Her fingers still tingled from the strike as she stared up at him with that same cool smile.

“Good boy,” she said. “Now sit.”

Of course, she supposed he wouldn’t. Men like him rarely did. Too much muscle, too little mind, and she had only disrespected him with the slap. He’d lash out, naturally. But a part of her, the part that couldn’t stop studying the leash Beauty had on him, hoped for something else. That maybe, just maybe, the brute had been trained so well that he'd hesitate, confused, submissive, and waiting for permission to strike. Doubtful, but a delicious thought.

[BlackAkuma]

Credit where it was due - Avery was a strong woman. Stronger than the last woman Beast had fought by far, stronger than most in the heavyweight division, and even stronger than many of the men that LAW had to offer. While he was no expert on the roster, he was willing to bet that at least 90% of them would be finding themselves overrun if they tried to engage Avery like this.

But Beast was in the 10%, which meant that, this time, Avery was the one being forced back. That wasn’t to say it was easy, however. The blonde’s power was nothing to scoff at, even for him, with her giving her a solid anchor to work with. But he still forced her back, step after step, until she was right where he wanted her to be: Up against the ropes. Trapped.

Ostensibly.

She remained defiant and forced her way out of the tie-up, breaking the hold, and he was drawing back to follow up with a quick jab, when she beat him to the punch - or, rather, the slap. A stinging one slashed across his face, and while it was far from the most devastating of blow, the sheer shock and alacrity of it was enough to knock him back a step. He was still reeling when Avery threw a command his way. A simple command. A familiar command.

While she didn’t sound a thing like his wife, the tenor in her voice struck a similar chord, that same assertiveness, the kind of forceful tone that made knees weaken. The effect it had on him was immediate and reflexive, as if his body responded before his mind could.

It was only a second of hesitation, but a second too long. ”You-” He gritted his teeth, shook it off, and lashed out, lunging her way with a wild punch aimed at the smug face of hers.

[BlackAkuma]

Credit where it was due - Avery was a strong woman. Stronger than the last woman Beast had fought by far, stronger than most in the heavyweight division, and even stronger than many of the men that LAW had to offer. While he was no expert on the roster, he was willing to bet that at least 90% of them would be finding themselves overrun if they tried to engage Avery like this.

But Beast was in the 10%, which meant that, this time, Avery was the one being forced back. That wasn’t to say it was easy, however. The blonde’s power was nothing to scoff at, even for him, with her giving her a solid anchor to work with. But he still forced her back, step after step, until she was right where he wanted her to be: Up against the ropes. Trapped.

Ostensibly.

She remained defiant and forced her way out of the tie-up, breaking the hold, and he was drawing back to follow up with a quick jab, when she beat him to the punch - or, rather, the slap. A stinging one slashed across his face, and while it was far from the most devastating of blow, the sheer shock and alacrity of it was enough to knock him back a step. He was still reeling when Avery threw a command his way. A simple command. A familiar command.

While she didn’t sound a thing like his wife, the tenor in her voice struck a similar chord, that same assertiveness, the kind of forceful tone that made knees weaken. The effect it had on him was immediate and reflexive, as if his body responded before his mind could.

It was only a second of hesitation, but a second too long. ”You-” He gritted his teeth, shook it off, and lashed out, lunging her way with a wild punch aimed at the smug face of hers.

[RockRye]

Avery saw it. It was subtle and fleeting, just the millisecond pause in his body after the slap rang out and left him swaying. But it was there. That little hitch, that stutter in a man’s rage where instinct met conditioning. And Avery, always attuned to the power dynamics people tried to hide, drank it in with open satisfaction. Her smirk widened, and she straightened her posture as he stumbled back from the force of her hand, tilting her head like she was watching a fascinating specimen struggle against its leash.

“Oh... oh, darling,” she breathed to herself, entirely bemused. “She really has her claws in you, doesn’t she?”

But it didn’t last. Beast shook off the slap like a twitch, and his body snapped forward again. Avery saw it coming and tried to shift her head just enough to let his wild power glance off, but his return strike was too fast and too pinpoint. His arm swung with punishing force and caught her flush across her face, snapping her head to the side in an instant of ugly impact.

Pain bloomed white-hot under her cheekbone, and her whole body tensed with it. She staggered back against the turnbuckle, eyes wide with fury and disbelief, one hand flying to her face. He hit her in the face. Her beautiful face.

And just like that, all the playful dominance drained from her expression, leaving something far colder in its place. She wanted to strike back immediately, to return the violence with a sharp and humiliating takedown, but the pain surged so deep, so quickly, that her body refused the command. Her hands twitched but didn't lift, her stance wobbled just enough to give her away. The woman with all the answers had to grit her teeth and wait.

[BlackAkuma]

Beauty had noticed that.

She couldn't hear what Avery had said, with the ignorant crowd cheering her on far too loudly, but she could tell that, whatever foolish words flew from their mouth, they were brief. It couldn't have just been a meaningless taunt, because it was enough to make Beast pause, if only for the briefest flicker of a moment - unlike him. Worrying, that.

Whatever the problem, it was only a momentary lapse, one he was quick to rectify. He lashed out and laid into her with a stiff punch, one that clearly caught the pristine princess off guard. How she recoiled, the look of utter disbelief, caressing her face like a precious diamond that had been damaged…

For the first time in quite a few minutes, Beauty smiled. A slim, knowing smile, but a smile nonetheless.

Typically, Beast’s next move would’ve been to lay into her with more heavy blows, true to his striking style, but that wasn’t an option in a match like this. He needed submissions, and at this range, his options were limited - but not ineffective. Beauty could already tell what he was going to go for, and she bristled with anticipation, eager to see it.

Beast stepped out of the corner, seized Avery by the wrist, and pulled her along with him, getting some space from the corner. With that gap made, he dipped down, wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled her in for a tight bearhug, lifting her off the canvas as his thick arms clamped tight around her waist. A brutal, crushing grip, making good use of his powerful arms to punish the bitch.

Beauty’s smile widened. Just an inch.

[RockRye]

Anyone with eyes could see the way her expression cracked beneath its polished veneer. Avery Merritt wasn’t built for this kind of raw brutality, not really, not despite her well-toned frame or years of punishing others in sessions. She could take punishment, yes, but never like that. Her face, still stinging from the impact, twisted with indignation and discomfort. She looked affronted and insulted that someone would have the gall to strike her in the face, to rattle her brain and bruise her pride in such a common, barbaric way. Still, she held her chin high as best she could, wiping a bit of moisture from the corner of her eye and trying to collect herself, trying to act as though nothing had happened.

But Beast wasn’t content to give her that moment. He came for her again, reaching in and grabbing her wrist in a grip like iron. She gasped, caught off guard, and instinctively tried to swat at his arm with her free hand, like a haughty cat batting at a hand it didn’t approve of. It accomplished exactly as much. Her body twisted, her legs tensed, and she tried to wrench herself free, but he was faster, stronger. He yanked her forward with jarring force, and before she could react again, his massive arms coiled around her waist.

The bearhug was brutal. Elegant as she was, proud and poised and so certain of her superiority, she couldn’t mask the sheer torment that overtook her features as he locked it in. Her back arched, her toes left the mat, and her chest, well, that was suddenly front and center, framed in a way she did not intend, ballooning from the pressure of his crushing arms.

"Nnnnghh—ahhhhaaahhh!” Her voice cracked between grit and scream, the pain catching mid-breath before spilling out in a long, drawn-out moan. Her manicured hands clawed at his shoulders and back, legs kicking against nothing as her spine was wrung like a dish towel. She had expected this (of course she had, this was a submission match) but she had never realized how much more it would hurt coming from him. She’d been in videos, posed and acted her way through bearhugs from other women. She’d groaned, cried out prettily, writhed for the camera. But this wasn’t that. This was real. This was power. And it hurt more than she could endure for long.