Blitzkrieg! Sheila Morgan vs. Elinor Klügmann

[BlackAkuma]

Pain. Lots of pain. Jesus fuck, Elinor was a strong cunt.

Sheila had kind of already figured that out, but God, there was nothing like nearly getting powerbombed through the damn canvas to drive the point home. There were really not words to describe how much pain she was in at the moment, but if she had to guess, this was what getting rocked by a steer felt like.

It was rough going at first, but she was able to get her bearings and start pushing her way up, using the table for support. She was a little out of it, groggy and dazed, but not so much that she didn’t hear the German’s critique from above. ”Oh, fuck off!” She grunted and bit her lip as she made her way up to one foot, then the other, rubbing between her legs as she rose. ”No one told you to bite me! Fucking dipstick…”

God, that area was so damn sore, and her back wasn’t much better. But as bad as the hits she took were, she could recuperate, this was nothing she couldn't bounce back from. Even better, she was on the floor now. Ringside brawling was her wheelhouse, and when Elinor came to follow her, she’d find a surprise or two waiting for her.

Huh, that was weird. The announcers were picking up their stuff and running away. Why would they be…

”Oh.”

Sheila turned around and looked up just in time to see a flying German heading her way. In the instant, she felt a myriad of emotions. Surprise, that Elinor had the balls to even try it. Dread, knowing that it was about to wreck her entire week. But, more than anything, she was just kind of pissed that she wasn’t the first person in the match to throw herself off a ridiculous height onto her opponent. Some things were just wrong, you know?

Elinor came crashing into Sheila at high speed, smashing her into the announce table and obliterating it on impact. Wood and metal flew in every direction, it came apart at the seams, and the cacophony echoed through the rafters, a deafening noise that was only matched by the crowd’s cheerings.

”HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!”

Despite all the pain, Sheila couldn't help but smile in the wreckage. She might as well, it was about all her body could do at the moment.

[Baddie]

For a woman who approached business like bouts and bouts like business, the high flying attack wasn't exactly the most practical of moves. It had been inspired by a need to deliver the maximum amount of damage possible, regardless of the consequences, and to that effect the diving crossbody performed perfectly... in sending them both into pit of miserable pain.

Elinor's fierce war cry abruptly turned into a pain-stricken shriek as soon as she smacked into Sheila. Even though she had her opponent's body to somewhat serve as a cushion, there was no protecting her bare breasts from the brunt of the blow. But out of the two of them, there was no denying who had gotten it worse. The debris of what had once been a solid table was entirely the result of Sheila's cataclysmic collision.

The landing left Elinor draped overtop her opponent's body, groaning as she slowly picked herself up on wobbly legs to survey the damage. She could barely stand on her feet, struggling to balance while clutching her chest and head. The rubble that now scattered the ringside was a welcome sight, not to mention the deafening approval of the crowd. What was not so welcome however, was the weak, but satisfied smile on Sheila's face.

"What the FUCK are you smiling about, huh!?" Elinor barked, bending down to grab Sheila by the hair and force her face to face with the German. Not bothering to wait for a response, Elinor began dragging the girl up to her feet by her hair, the effort causing them both to groan from the many aches and pains they had developed so far.

Lacking the energy to go for anything too spectacular, Elinor decided to stick with the basics until she had regained her strength. A single punch would rocket into Sheila's belly, followed by another, and another. Each time her fist landed, Sheila would be propelled closer and closer towards the ring apron, kept on her feet only by Elinor's grip on her hair. The punches wouldn't stop until Sheila's was forced back first against the edge of the ring, with one more powerful uppercut aimed at her jaw for good measure.

Elinor would stumble back to admire her handiwork, flexing the fingers in her fist, her knuckles visibly reddened from the attacks. But she wasn't done yet, groaning and creaking, Elinor would momentarily leave her opponent suspended on the apron as she scoured the ring side for a suitable weapon. A wooden slab that had once served as part of the table's desk caught her eye, and she quickly took the painful steps necessary to acquire it.

The added weight of the object in her hands brought a smile to Elinor's face, and she soon turned back towards her opponent. Elinor started gunning towards her with wide-eyed hopes of wiping out that smile once and for all, raising the slab of wood high above her head and aiming to smash it right over Sheila's skull!

[BlackAkuma]

Laying in the remains of obliterated furniture, while a rowdy crowd cheered their lungs out with repeated obscenities. Suffering from countless fractures and broken bones. The faint taste of blood in her mouth and the strong odor of cheap beer and popcorn in the air.

For the briefest of moments, Sheila almost forgot she was in Japan and could’ve sworn she was back home.

She opened her eyes and the illusion faded away as the stadium’s lights blinded her, but the sensations lingered. This was the sort of shite she lived for, pure carnage, and while she would’ve liked to be on the business giving end instead of the business receiving, she was still loving it. Elinor might’ve been a first-class, pussy-biting bitch, but she had to give the woman her props for even trying that crazy stunt, let alone pulling it off. Win or lose, Sheila was committed to topping it.

”Holy shit…holy shit…holy-” Sheila was muttering along with the crowd as she rested in the rubble, idly rubbing her aching groin, when the source of her troubles grabbed her by the chair and brought her up for a face to face, spattering her face with spittle in the process. Even with all the pain, she couldn't help but chuckle, a weak noise that was almost more of a groan than a laugh. ”Your breath stinks.”

Elinor didn’t seem all that interested in hearing her answer. She seemed far more focused on ramming her fist through Sheila’s stomach, and she made that apparent when she attempted to over and over. Each blow knocked the wind clean out of the Wild One and made her knees wobble, hammering away on her tone stomach with a relentless, merciless precision, one that didn’t end until she had her back against the ring. The coup de grace came with a rocketing uppercut to the chin, one that hit hard enough to give Sheila airtime, before she dropped down to her knees.

So, yeah, in summary, this wasn’t going too well, and it was only going to get worse if Sheila had to guess. As she grabbed the steel steps for support and started to pull her way up to one foot, she could see her opponent coming her way with a wooden slab, pulling it out of the table’s remains. It was all too obvious what she had planned for it, and she could only see one way to shut it down.

Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, no way to go except one direction: forward.

Sheila pushed off the ring apron with a feral cry, closing in on Elinor before she could bring the wooden club down. She leaped up, grabbed her opponent by the back of her head while she tucked her knees in tight, and let gravity do the rest.

”Bite this.”

And down they went, as Sheila attempted to ram her knees into Elinor’s face with a double-knee facebreaker.

[Baddie]

Even in the midst of absolute carnage and near suicidal destruction, Sheila still had the wits to make a crack at Elinor. The comment only made the German want to break her even more, and the chunk of wood in her hands seemed like the perfect tool to help her do just that.

Except when she turned around, with the slab held high above her head, Sheila wasn't the slumped over, beaten mess she had left her as. The woman was already up and charging. The sight was enough to make Elinor stop dead in her tracks, frozen solid by shock with the wooden implement suspended in the air.

How? Just... how? Elinor knew those punches packed power. She could feel Sheila's ribs rattling with every collision of her knuckles into them. She could see the face of a woman racked with pain, witness a body crumple as it was slowly being pushed to it's limits. The surprise on Elinor's face was highlighted by every camera in the arena as it lit the jumbotron above.

She could do nothing but stiffen her body as Sheila leapt onto her, grabbing her by the neck and pulling her down face-first in the Aussie's tucked in knees. Her head was spiked into the face beaker, her weight affording her no advantages this time around as it was instead used to accelerate her rapid descent. The clash of her skull against Sheila's knees was sickening to say the least, with enough force being delivered to send Elinor ricocheting backwards all the way into the ringside barricade.

The padded surface of the barricade was the only thing keeping her up. Her head drooped backwards and arms draped overtop the barricade as she struggled to stay conscious after the head-shattering blow. With the crowd now in an absolute frenzy, many of the members on the opposite side of the barricade took advantage of Elinor's unfortunate proximity to cop a feel of the groggy German's tits, to which she could only respond with humiliated grunts and wheezes.

The wooden slab had been sent flinging into the air and out of her grasp, crashing into the ground directly in-between the two combatants. Pushing her self away from the barricade and it's horny inhabitants, Elinor immediately collapsed forward onto her hand and knees. One arm went to wipe her nose, only to find a trail of blood coating the back of her hand.

Crawling on her hands and knees, Elinor made a desperate attempt to reach what was left of the wooden slab before her opponent. Her progress was slow and pathetic, but her resolve remained undeterred despite how weak the attempt made her look. She had no illusions of making a grand recovery and trying to regain the weapon. her only hope was to somehow remove it from the equation before it became a weapon in the hands of her opponent!

[BlackAkuma]

How? Sheila wasn’t really sure herself. You could chalk it up to general toughness, stubbornness, or over a decade and a half of throwing herself off every ladder she could get her hands on, but when it came down to it, maybe it was just what an ex-girlfriend of hers had told her once: ‘You’re just too stupid to die’.

God, that had been a shitty relationship.

Whatever the case, it worked for her, and it was just about the only edge she could squeeze out over a woman like Elinor. The woman hit like a goddamn tank, was built like a goddamn tank, had the personality of a goddamn tank. She couldn't overpower this bitch, she wasn’t that much faster, and she didn’t have technique on her side, not that she ever did. That just left her toughness - she had to outlast her. Wear her down. It’d be a pain in the ass, but it’d be well worth the effort if she could pull it off.

That mindset was working for her. Despite being hammered through the table, despite her ribs being punched into kindling, and despite her fanny feeling like it had a wolverine nibbling at it, she pushed through it, rose up, and was given the oh-so sweet look on Baroness Bitch’s face before they took the plunge, sending them both down for a hard crash.

Elinor had taken the worst of it, no question there, but it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows for Sheila either, with her back smacking the floor with all her weight behind it, knocking the wind out of her for the second time in a single minute. She would’ve been content to lay there, laughing and wheezing, except for the crowd calling her name and trying to get her attention.

”Whatwhatwhat-” She groaned and sat up to see Elinor crawling towards the wood, dragging her sorry ass too it like a beggar on the street. It made for a nice picture, and she would’ve loved to see it more, if not for the absolute hell that would come her way if she was successful. Only problem was, she had no confidence in being able to reach that thing first. Even if she did, she wasn't in a good position to do anything with it.

But that didn’t mean she was out of options. Quite the opposite. She was near the ring apron, and as every wrestling fan knew, that was one of the best places to be in a hardcore match.

Sheila rolled around, reached under the skirt, and started rooting through the darkness for anything she could get her hands on. The first thing she found was a table, which was nice, but useless to her now. She found a chair, which was better, but a little unwieldy when she could barely stand. But then…

”Yeah, c’mere, right on!” Sheila pulled out a toolbox, turned back to Elinor and sat up with it on her lap. She fumbled with the latch for a second, then popped it open and threw everything she could get on from inside straight at her opponent’s face, pelting her with tool after tool in a mad bid to wear her down.

[Baddie]

Just keep moving.

That was the mantra Elinor chanted in her head as she slowly inched forward on the ringside floor. The cement felt cold and abrasive on her bare legs, but it was the only form of movement she could muster given how devastating the face breaker still felt. Her head drooped downward throughout her slow progress, her hair a sweat-slicken mess as it veiled her face.

Peering upwards to observe her opponent's progress, A weak smile lit Elinor's face as she noticed Sheila wasn't going for the slab, she was still slumped up against the ring apron. "Coward" Elinor muttered, the sight giving her a slight boost in speed as she steadily approached the wooden weapon. Maybe she would get a chance to break it over that Aussie bitch's head after all.

A thick clang into the side of her head quickly alleviated her mind of that idea. A sharp cry pierced through Elinor's already pained throat as the object clattered down in front of her. Is that... a screwdriver? A look of solid bewilderment creeped up on Elinor, prompting her to somehow summon the strength to crane her neck upwards once again.

A toolbox. The fucking bitch had conjured up a toolbox. Who was the sick fuck who thought to put that under the ring apron!? Blinking harshly through the stinging in her head, Elinor resumed her steady crawl. "GAAGH!" Elinor whelped as yet another tool smashed into her forehead, this time a wrench. She dropped to her elbows, wincing as the mild headache she's had for twenty minutes turned into a pounding migraine.

Growling, she propped herself back onto her arms again, holding one hand up against her face as she moved to block the assortment of other tools that were flung towards her. Pliers, a tape measure, a level, nut, bolts, a flashlight - all were thrown her way. Some she successfully deflected, but others found themselves scraping her cheeks and head, each once causing muffled cries and groans.

Finally she reached the wooden slab, but by then she barely lacked the strength to breath let alone pick it up and use it. Luckily, the downpour of home improvement tools seemed to have stopped, or so she thought. Slowly, and with a worried look on her face, Elinor peeked up at her opponent, only to see her aiming that last of the tools her way.

Fuck

The hammer flung through the air seemingly in slow motion, with Elinor too sapped to evade. It struck directly in the center of her forehead as she sputtered out a loud grunt. The tempered metal clashed with her skull, causing the German to go cross eyed as she wavered back and forth on her knees before finally collapsing on her side, alive but heaving like some sort of wounded animal.

[BlackAkuma]

Wrench? Throw it.

Flashlight? Throw it.

Bolts? Throw them.

Sheila hurled projectile after projectile at Elinor, landing some, missing others, but never relenting, her hand searching for the next as soon as one left her fingers. It was a desperate move, and she knew it - she was still aching from the table crash and spending so much energy on that facebreaker, so this was about the most athletic thing she could do while she caught her breath. But it was working and working well, slowing down Elinor’s impossible advance to a crawl. Effective stuff.

And funny. Don’t forget that. ”Yeah, get your hands up, bitch!” She hurled a Phillip’s Head her way, right on target. ”What’s wrong, don’t wanna play catch, huh?”

Sheila would give the woman props, she was determined as hell to reach the wood, still moving forward despite the rain of metal that was coming her way. It was a valiant effort, but she was going to shut it down with her final play. The toolbox itself was too big and unwieldy to throw, but the item she found at the bottom? Oh, that would do.

She took the hammer out, tossed the toolbox aside, then closed a single eye as she took careful aim. Really had to nail this one. ”3…2…”

Sheila let the hammer fly like a tomahawk, and it landed right on target, smacking her opponent clean. Down she went, conscious, but probably wishing she wasn’t, jerking around like sniped deer. The best opening she’d ever get in this whole damn match.

Desperate, wild, Sheila crawled forward, scrambling over to Elinor on her hands and knees. She crawled over onto the woman’s waist, straddled it, then pushed her shoulders down, getting into position. As insane as this match had been, she hadn't forgotten that there were rules, and that she needed to get a submission out of this woman to seal the deal. She only had a few of those in her arsenal, but the camel clutch was a simple one that even she could pull off…though she did have one idea to make it better.

Sheila sat up, planted her feet on both sides of her opponent’s body. She reached down to try and pull Elinor’s arms over her legs, in what would look like the standard setup for the move, but she threw a unique twist in: Instead of grabbing her opponent’s chin, she sunk her fingers into the German’s shimmering white hair, yanking it back and using that tight grip to bend her spine, putting her flexibility to the test.

”Tap out, slag!” She gritted her teeth and pulled back with all she had, as if she could rip the hair clean off Elinor’s scalp. ”Taptaptapfuckingtap!”

[Baddie]

Elinor's spasms eventually subsided into the occasional jerk as she was left to revel in her own pain, face flat on the ringside floor. Soon all that was left to inform the audience of her well being was the rhythmic rise and fall of her back with each shallow breath of her battered chest. Her hair spilt out on the ground around her head, forming a silver halo that masked the half unconscious woman beneath them.

But life slowly found it's way back into her limbs, fire burning hot in her veins as her will to fight still stood unbroken, even if her body nearly was. Forming both hands into fists, Elinor used them to slightly elevate her chest and look up at her approaching opponent. She wheezed painfully as she saw that Sheila was already making a mad scramble towards her, a look of desperate excitement on the Australian's face.

"She think she's already won" The thought was enough to inject even more flames into Elinor's already blazing resolve. It took more than a few tools to demolish this German.

Knowing that she still lacked the strength to fight back, Elinor tapped into her seemingly never ending pool of endurance to prepare herself for whatever was coming next. Sheila had made her way over to Elinor's side in a matter of seconds, affording the German just enough time to tighten her muscles, clench her jaw, and brace herself for the inevitable pain to follow.

Sure enough, Sheila pushed down on Elinor's shoulders and placed her weight on the small of the woman's back, undoing what little progress she had made trying to pick herself back up. As soon as the blonde draped her arms over her legs, Elinor thought she knew what was coming next. But instead of the usual pair of hands that gripped beneath the chin in a standard camel clutch, Sheila went straight for the silver strands of her opponent.

"AAAARRRGGHH!" Elinor bellowed as her neck was whipped backwards, forcing her entire upper body along for the ride in an incredibly painful and unnatural arc. She quickly clamped her teeth together, gritting them together with unhealthy force as she tried to stifle any further cries of pain. Her scalp felt like it was on the verge of being ripped clean off, but it was nothing in comparison to the overwhelming tension in her spine.

Any wrestler in the right state of mind would have yielded to the Aussie's demands, given up and walk away with a loss. Elinor would rather never walk again. Nothing would be as painful as a loss on her debut.

"NEVER-NEVER-NEVER! C'mon... BREAK ME!" Elinor spit defiantly, a unified gasp rippling throughout the crowd over the reckless display of endurance!

[BlackAkuma]

Sheila hadn't forgotten the ‘Accepted’ part of things, either. She knew that, even if this bitch tapped out, she could always just say no and drag the torture out, and she’d be lying if she said the temptation wasn’t there. She liked to go into her matches with some edge, made everything that much spicier, but something about Elinor rubbed her the wrong way from the start, and this whole thing was getting personal in a hurry. She damn sure knew the German wouldn’t be all that merciful if the tables were turned - this was a woman who liked twisting the knife.

But…nah. As funny as it would’ve been to drag Elinor through the mud, it wasn’t really her style. She beat her from pillar to post, sure, but straight torture wasn’t her style. All she wanted was a tap, or a few words of submission, and this would be over

She got neither.

Credit where it was due. Sheila had already been thoroughly convinced of Elinor’s toughness, but if everything else hadn't been enough for that, this alone would seal that deal. Sheila hadn't gone a single match I’m her entire life without getting her hair pulled, it was an agony she knew well. Fuck, she’d had her hair pulled several times in this match today, which made it easy to return the pain.

She thought there was a good chance of that moment coming up soon, too. You didn’t see people submitting to a camel clutch all that often these days, but she was pretty sure that it was all about stubbornness, with people not wanting to give up on such a basic move. But the hold was a wrestling mainstay for a reason. With the hair pulling compounding it, it would have to work.

And it didn’t.

Elinor’s response was such a shock that it almost made Sheila lose her grip, honestly not Koenig what to think of it. All this damage, all the pain, and she still wouldn’t give in. Crazy guts. Never in her life had she met a woman that impressed her and pissed her off so much at the same time. It was kind of amazing, and it left her with a pivotal choice. She could keep this hold up and risk breaking something on this woman, or she could switch it up.

”Bonzer, I’ll give it to you. But never say never, right?” She let go of the hair and reached over, clamping her arms around Elinor’s throat and transitioning into a sleeperhold. It would reduce the torque, but the benefits were obvious. ”Take a nap. See if that changes your mind.”

[Baddie]

If Elinor wanted to prematurely end her career before it had even really kicked off, there was no better way to achieve that than what she was doing right now. There was no question that she was risking serious injury by not just giving in to her opponent. Hell, in a match like this, giving up didn't necessarily guarantee your opponent would just let you walk away anyways.

And considering that Elinor wasn't exactly the most sportsmanlike of combatants, she figured Sheila had every reason to tack on a few minutes of added torture well beyond any submission. But there wasn't any way for Elinor to know for sure if Sheila was that kind of woman. Better to just save face and refuse to yield, and look mighty stoic in the process. Optics were always good for business.

But that torrential, agonizing, unending pressure on her spine? Not so much. Luckily her position would block her opponent from noticing, but Elinor was holding back tears from how bad the pain was. Even Sheila seemed surprised that the German was holding out this long - Elinor could tell by the slight faltering of her grip.

Elinor was prepared to face whatever consequences her reckless defiance entailed, and Sheila knew it to. Hence why she began transitioning into a sleeper hold variant, one that would render any act of resistance futile if applied long enough. Elinor was provided with only a moment of relief as the grip on her hair was let go in favor of the one around her neck.

The chokehold was like a timebomb, slowly ticking away the seconds until Elinor would be rendered unconscious, and forced to endure who-knows-what from there. The thought was incomprehensible to the German, and even as she lay trapped, chocking and sputtering, her mind began racing for ways to attempt the impossible.

Elinor herself wasn't sure where the strength came from. But it came. Taking advantage of the slackened tension on her back, Elinor began moving her legs inwards, picking them up until she was in a kneeling position with Sheila sitting on top of her. With both of Sheila's arms still wrapped around her neck, Elinor was free to plant her hands on the mat, and use them to push upwards, slowly lifting herself up onto her feet with her opponent left clinging onto her back!

"Gaagh! GRAAAGGGH!" Elinor groaned and growled, her face a dark crimson hue from how tight the choke was. Even though she only had a few seconds of breath left, still she persisted. After successfully picking herself up, Elinor would grip tightly onto both of Sheila's arms, preventing her from simply letting go and dropping off. From there, Elinor called on the last remnants of her strength to begin a backwards charge, aiming to ram Sheila's back-first into the ring apron, slamming and sandwiching her between it's metal frame and the rock hard body of the German!

Spoiler