We're Doing What Now? - Domino vs. Arlise Christiaens (Apartment PoW Match)

[CyanDimitrik]

The ankles lock together and the girl's thighs squeeze around him. But Domino is determined to ride this out. After all, if he relents, she gains ground on the headscissor. He made his offer! She refused by merit of intensifying the moment! They're in this until Arlise submits or makes him a counter-offer!

The pressure of her smooth thighs is tight, crushing, but at the same time, not unwelcome. He has no doubt that it's the same for his vicious nuzzling against that particular spot she's so generously left vulnerable to him. A growl escapes him as he continues to attack her hips, her headscissor earning an increased level of aggression and determination. The moans escaping her lips now are borne largely of pain to her stomach, he's fairly positive on that. But the increased volume is encouraging - he wants more of that. He wants her to succumb to him completely by the time this match is over. By the time she contractually belongs to him.

The ante is upped; there's a light 'bite' added to the mix. A grazing of teeth against sensitive inner-thigh skin, as well as the base of her hips protected only by the thin material she's wearing for modesty. This is followed by another heated grind against her, urging her to give in.

Her stomach doesn't go ignored. After all, it's the main vector of his attack, exploring her muscle definition, testing the density and firmness of her abdominals, gouging her bellybutton, torturing her midsection. The arm hooking her middle just beneath the bust tightens, forcing her harder against his hips and that telltale firmness. His free hand grips and squeezes her belly - only to redouble as she pulls and thrusts her torso about to attempt dislodging them. His palm digs hard into the pit of her gut as she so generously pushes it force in her efforts, and his legs attempt to hook back over her shoulders each time she lifts them a little off the bed, heels scooting along the sheets. If he can manage that, this hold is even more of a secure lock than it already was.

[Winter]

Arlise squeezed. She wrenched. She cried out in desperation and strain as much as she did from the pain wracking her midriff. But she had too little leverage, and she knew it. Her headscissors never failed her, but these scissors lacked their usual melon-crushing power.

Still she persisted. She shouldn't have, likely - especially not once he started biting her and pressing his features even more tightly against her blue bottoms, finding every inch of her that the ongoing struggle had made sensitive. The stubborn Belgian held on those few seconds longer, hoping he lacked her degree of will even with her legs manifesting something short of their usual power.

Her hopes fell short, and Arlise couldn't bother anymore with hoping - her belly was in agony by this point. In one sudden, complete loss of resolve, Lise's legs fell slack and dropped limply to the sides of Domino's head, alongside her body, and she let loose with one long whimper of misery. Her arms ceased their fighting, as well. As it was, only her stomach moved to try and resist the continuing clawing as the beautiful redhead lay draped like she was resigned to the stocks, her face the picture of exhaustion and grief.

She didn't even have the wherewithal to weigh the embarrassment of tapping out to the stomach torture, as it seemed like her only option left to bring it to an end.

[CyanDimitrik]

It's an intense moment in which Domino has completely forgotten about the idea of any audience. The only thing on his mind is taming the redhead, bringing her to a metaphorical heel. The nuzzling is relentless, a growl escaping him as she ramps up the pressure. He squeezes, crushes, and claws her abdominals voraciously, hips bucking behind her shoulders.

Suddenly, it seems that either she physically submits to him, or he got his wish of bringing her to peak. Whether or not the latter happened, her legs surrendering their hold earns her reprieve. His nuzzling slows gradually, but perhaps more immediately appreciated, he ceases tormenting her stomach. His hand simply rests against her skin for several seconds until the nuzzle has fully stopped, and he tilts over onto his side to roll her free of the grapple.

And once free of her weight and the entanglement, Domino will shift to his knees and reach for her shoulders to pull her up to meet him face to face - cheeks a touch rouged, panting open-mouthed, each exhale a heated beat against her lips. But those amethyst eyes would be burning on her.

[Winter]

Arlise did roll, with only her groan - partially relief, partially complaint - enough to signal that she remained conscious. Her legs and arms still worked, but the bleating pain coming from her core rendered them weaker than jelly. A hand pawed against her stomach once it was free to do so, but otherwise, Lise toed the line between a refusal to think the end of the match was nearing and not wanting to continue. Not with the match, anyway. And not until her aching belly eased.

Domino did not appear amenable to this unspoken wish, and Lise's heavy breathing was interrupted long enough for her to moan as he pulled on her shoulders. She had every inclination to wrench back, but he would only try to pull her up again, making her stomach go through tightening a second time. So up she went, and her pain-squinted eyes fell on a man looking at her with all manner of intention. Bad or not, Lise couldn't tell - she was still too discombobulated.

And in an act of in-her-nature defiance against whatever he was thinking, Lise drove a fist, hardly enough to do damage to anything but a weak nose or ear, into his gut.

She regarded him with a snarl that concealed a smirk.

[CyanDimitrik]

Couldn't the intention be both? Maybe one before the other? It's likely a foregone conclusion that there'll be more to come for Arlise after the cameras stop rolling. Domino has every intention to help her feel better once he's claimed dominance. Or at least to make the suffering she's endured seem worth it.

The snarl is met with a confident smile, lips parted to accommodate heavier breathing. His gaze rests half-lidded, focused on her own expressive eyes. His right hand moves from her shoulder to her neck, grabbing it firmly and yanking to force her lips against his in a firm, wildly empassioned kiss. Whether or not she returns it or struggles, that's where he intends to secure her for a few long seconds, eyes only lidding a little more - never quite closed. He doesn't trust her enough for that yet!

The other hand grips ahold of her slender shoulder a little tighter to reassert that control.

But again, this kiss is meant only to last a few seconds. To disorient. And indulge. And maybe indicate the end is near. As while the kiss is going, he'll be using those gripped areas to pull her up to her feet with him. But the moment it's over, her neck and shoulder would instantly be released in favor of reaching for her waist. Once hooked, he'll swing her body into the air and press her directly against himself, her sweat-slickened belly tight against his toned and defined chest, her breasts mashing into his abdominals. His face will be set against her hips, deliberately starting to nuzzle again, with his hips - and that unavoidably telltale firmness - pressed to her face.

[Winter]

Arlise couldn't decide how welcoming she would be to what he surely had in mind; she had seen those eyes leveled on her many times. Given the aches wracking her stomach, convincing herself to feel accommodating didn't come easily, much as her heart seemed to beat with need as much between her thighs as it did in her chest. And he was a tad annoying - something overconfident in him that rubbed her wrong about many men of the ring. She settled on "wait and see." Nothing required her to be defenseless simply because this was an apartment match, anyway.

Lise did not resist the pull that brought her closer, nor did she try to dodge his lips. Nonetheless, the snarl remained firmly on her features even as her lips made passive agreement to meet with his. She didn't struggle, but neither did she offer much. In fact, the one hand not holding her stomach wriggled, debating on another punch... or something a little more aggressive. She wasn't beaten yet. Her body might claim it, but match rules and her spirit would not.

She waited, though, and weighed her options. When he tried to make her stand, she followed with only enough resistance to hide that she would rather be standing. Provided her more options.

Still there were few of them, she realized once on her feet, outside of trying to knee him in the crotch. That would be in poor spirit. But she found it hard to think of anything else, between throbbing body and pounding abdominals.

And Lise certainly did not expect the sudden grasp of her waist and the near-vertigo that followed. She wailed in shock, eyes changing from slits to saucers, and wailed a second time in pain when the reversal of gravity made her breasts weigh on her weakened stomach. She pawed for purchase, thinking she would fall and forgetting the soft mattress, but he clearly held her aloft, her feet kicking in the air.

Of more interest - concern, partially, but also more womanly interest - was what her eyes soaked in past her hanging curtain of red hair. And, by proxy of their body's position, what pushed against her nose and mouth until she stretched her head back a touch. She again scowled upwards in his direction, even if he couldn't see it. Sweaty man...

Then, she tried not to moan, bracing with hands against his knees to avoid full-facial contact with his excitement. Couldn't he... try to finish the match before he did this?

Much as she had during the belly torture, she thrust as much as her sore core would allow, resisting the urge to headbutt him in the crotch. She need only settle for making him as uncomfortable as possible until he acted to stop with his teasing; a knee hit him in the shoulder and an elbow, his side, as a result.

[CyanDimitrik]

Domino had no way of knowing what was going through her mind. Well, not beyond a certain, perhaps baser instinct. Her body had already given that much away. But besides that? They'd had a little fun back and forth to start. Hopefully things hadn't deteriorated too far! Else they may both be in for an uncomfortable day!

He presses the kiss to her lips. She doesn't kiss back much. He isn't super surprised by that. But he's enjoying the moment of distraction while it lasts. And it seemed to do its job, assuming she wasn't already too weakened to effectively resist him. And in short order, the girl is inverted and aligned against his body, corner to corner, in full suggestive positioning.

His finisher is usually terrifying. But this is going to be her striking the bed. It should be enough to sap the remainder of her strength (he hopes!), but it's unlikely to leave her unconscious. He wouldn't want that, anyway. Arlise hasn't done anything to warrant that much damage. Besides, he's curious to see if her demeanor changes any following the bell. It'd be hard to tell, if she's unconscious. He'd also feel a bit like a scumbag trying to find out, if she were in that state.

So much speculation! Chalk it up to anticipation! And that's a level of anticipation Arlise is finding she can't quite avoid the physical manifestation of it, herself. Her struggling lets him know her spirit is still fully intact, even if her body refused to cooperate fully. Her bare knees bump about his muscular frame, and his arms tighten a little more around her waist, squeezing her belly to his pectorals. His right hand lowers behind her head to force her face forward, slotting between his toned thighs.

At last, he hops into the air and drops to the mattress, completing his finisher; their combined bodyweights come crashing down over Arlise's head. Granted, against the forgiving surface of the bed! But immediately following the impact, he simply drops forward atop her, lying over her in that inverted position. His hips settle against her face, that hidden firmness subtly rubbing against her lips and nose. His sleek, smooth abdominals press and brush against her breasts. His defined pectorals press into her bare belly, with his left arm hooking her thigh to slightly lift the leg. His hand will hook to her inner-thigh, fingertips brushing the base of her hips.

[Winter]

Arlise, much as she tried to stay silent, groaned when he squeezed around her waist to stifle her fighting him while upside-down. Stifle her his pressuring arms did, but only until she tried to thrust her thigh against the side of his neck. The sore stomach reminded her of weeks before - her encounter with Eve. Eve had been prettier, and their match, far lower stakes.

And Eve hadn't done what Lise realized Domino would imminently do, or she would have fought the British beauty a touch harder. Alarm crossed the redhead's features when Domino forced her head forward, thinking he planned to rub her face in his masculine response. She might bite him; he had to wait until he had earned it. Instead, he snagged her head more tightly between his thighs; only the less-attractive part of his package rubbed against her chin.

Having done this dozens of times herself, Lise knew that this predicament was somehow worse than the rubbing. The Belgian kicked and fought, trying to squirm out at the last second. He was going to drive her head into the-

Bed. While her body tensed up as much as it would with a hard mat beneath them, and she squealed only loud enough to hear it herself, Lise found small comfort in knowing a concussion wouldn't follow as his full weight drove her head into the mattress. Nonetheless, the sensation of his jumping and the subsequent fall filled her with horror, and nothing could completely save a woman from having two bodies crash down on her head.

She did not black out, but the pain, the jarring, the fatigue, the suddenness - they all combined to reduce everything in her head to a ringing explosion. When she returned to full awareness, Lise found her arms splayed to her sides, a weight crushing her whole torso, her leg lifted without her permission, and the ref having already passed one to scream "Two!".

And his manhood smothering her nose and mouth. Arlise let out a singular, soft moan - the moan of a beaten combatant - and the gray eyes that peered blankly at the contours of his rear carried a pained, defeated slant.

[CyanDimitrik]

Domino would probably be happy to know he's less pretty than a female. Most might prefer it that way! But his mind is entirely centered elsewhere as he settles in over his captive's body. It's an entirely suggestive pin, and he's well beyond being subtle about that now. They started their match with a little verbal back-and-forth, and it's culminated in this. He has no idea how to feel about it.

Well, that's a fib. He feels fine about it. At least for now. Check back again tomorrow. No, wait. The day after. Tomorrow is going to be very occupied.

The thought of having her for a day is a thrill in itself. He presses his body tighter along hers, melding himself over her feminine curves as the count begins.

"ONE!"

The heat between them, the slickness of their sweat-glossed skin pressing and shifting together is a heady sensation. Something about it makes pinning her all the more primal, all the more satisfying, especially with the knowledge that he worked for it. Every breath she takes causes her body to swell against his, pressing her scantly-covered breasts into his abs. Every breath he takes pushes his toned chest tight against her naked belly. His head just hovering over her previously mauled hips, close enough to those thighs that had been squeezing him just moments ago that his cheek is now brushing against the sensitive inner-thigh of her claimed leg. It's a sore temptation to nuzzle again, but he's resisting.

"TWO!"

Almost done. Almost there.

Domino seizes tighter to her body, his muscles flexed and tense against her. Jealously he clings, digging his chest a little into her stomach, his abdominals bearing tighter over the swell of her breasts. His hips press just that degree tighter to her face, easily feeling every pretty feature against himself.

"THREE!"

The referee flails an arm to signal Arlise's defeat. Domino keeps that tense press against her for just a second or two longer before rolling over to the side to lie next to her on his back. He's painfully aware of how unsubtle his attraction is to the Belgian beside him. His wardrobe isn't allowing any sort of discretion on the issue. He doesn't care. He simply lies there, one arm still vaguely twined with her nearby thigh, gaze half-lidded and panting.

[Winter]

Arlise remained listless beneath him. Pride said she shouldn't, that she should somehow take this last second before he earned his win to claw her way free from the pin. Force him to slam her again and rend her completely unable to fight back against him. But she didn't want him to slam her again, and her body wanted it less so. It was tired from exertion and arousal, it told her that her stomach and neck would be sore from the damage already done, and its state convinced her that she wouldn't escape, anyway. He had her too crunched beneath his weight.

So the redhead took the indignity of having his stiff member pressed tightly to her face and the loss, a bundle of frustration. But she wouldn't take anymore punishment either. She hoped, anyway - she was his prisoner, after all.

Her eyebrows knit when his crotch pushed tighter against her face just before the final count. He left her mouth smothered almost entirely and her nose flattened, but by the time her hand came over to push his stiffness aside, the count passed and he released her.

She caught a breath and lay wondering what her face must have looked like in the surely-zoomed in cameras. The Belgian did her best to keep it neutral, but her hand did slap against the top of the mattress. "Damn it," she muttered between heaves of her chest.

Another loss.