Vanessa I. Price vs. Angelina Tarrant - Torture Rack Match (Apex Qualifier)

[Dubski]

Vanessa I. Price's face lit up when she saw the rattled reaction from Angelina, and she had to stop herself from laughing. She loved to see her prey squirm, especially in this helpless state. She found it very entertaining, and especially so with this redheaded trollop. Price simply clicked her tongue, shaking her head. "Oh, I'm bluffing? You really think I'm bluffing? After everything you put me through, you don't think I would like nothing more than to bludgeon you like this?" asked VIP, chortling briefly. "And I'm offering you an out!"

Pressing the lead pipe into Angelina's stomach, just enough to feel mighty uncomfortable, the fashionista narrowed her gaze at her trapped foe, speaking through gritted teeth. "Last chance. You apologize, now, and I don't need to do anything drastic. Just say you're sorry and really mean it... and I can walk away, satisfied. Knowing that you have accepted your position and know your miserable little place." Then, Vanessa glared at Angelina, jabbing the pipe further, quickly, not to hurt a tremendous amount, but to accent her point. "Apologize."

[Monsy]

The talking was worse than the headlock driver. Being tied up, asked to apologize. Anywhere else, maybe. But in this degenerate place, with this degenerate pulling a pipe from her ass to knock her with -- she had to think of there just no way around getting something. Who wouldn’t when you got someone hoisted on this rack? It was the spirit of the sport. A hard to swallow aspect. To Vanessa’s continued insistence of an out, Angelina glued her lips shut.

They still curled and put up a mean mug. She tried playing tough as the pipe ate into her small, smooth and otherwise soft belly. The two women fed each other glares as Vanessa listed out her terms. Again. Then a demand. Buzzing took the crowd, eager to see something. Just what exactly that may be was the centre question.

“.....” Still giving Vanessa a stern, pissed off stare, she looked poised to say something. The deliberation had stopped. She looked away, giving VIP her cheek and nothing more than that.

[Dubski]

VIP stood there, waiting with her arms crossed and a satisfied look on her face. She won. And she would continue to win here, even despite whatever response Angelina would make. Tarrant had to think about it, showing her contempt for Vanessa I. Price, and Price certainly showed her the same dissatisfaction. It was just a matter of time, or as it turned out, patience. She would wait until Angelina had made it clear what her response was. And it was silence, and a look away.

"Hm. Well, I suppose that's answer enough," said Vanessa, sneering. Without waiting much longer, she then hauled back her lead pipe with both hands and squared her body towards Angelina Tarrant. And then she slammed that piece of metal directly into her midsection with as much force as her tired body could muster--which turned out to be quite a bit still.

After that blow, Vanessa took a deep breath, centering herself and calming down. She would have loved to wail on Angelina again, but she wanted to be fair. Instead, she gestured to the redhead with her free hand. "Apologize," she repeated, allowing Tarrant another chance to get out of more abuse. And VIP was more than content with waiting for a reply.

[Monsy]

Of course, being prepared and knowing a shot was coming is a totally different field than taking it. She got another dose of that lesson. It hit her square just over the naval. Her breath left her in an instant. Pain exploded, churned and her stomach felt like it was curdling lava. She lurched. Her lungs were empty, so she didn’t really scream -- but quietly squealed that petered into a dying wheeze. All her limbs suddenly pulled on the restraints until they were shivering. “I-It-hehhh!!” She finally mustered. Her breath turned into a race, with her chest heaving and she looked somewhere between a panic attack and crying. A bruise was already forming over her reddened skin.

“. . . .” Once again, the demand. It seemed like a door to at least be knocked out or something. Still, when gestured to with her free hand, Angelina lunged forward with all the slack this device allowed, trying to bite VIP’s fingers.

[Dubski]

Vanessa I. Price contently waited for Angelina's response. She ached all over still, being reminded of everything this girl had put her through. But it was satisfying seeing her struggle, helplessly, in the torture rack. Knowing she could do nothing but take it or give in to VIP's demands. But it was when the redhead reacted by trying to lunge and bite her hand, Tarrant was far too restrained for it. She jerked her hand back as Tarrant went for it and scowled, offended by this impudence. Angelina's opportunities were over now.

First came a closed fist right to Angelina's jaw. A punishment for trying to bite her. Rarely did VIP ever use such a basic, harsh strike, but the situation called for it for her, fuming furiously. Her fist hurt, along with everything else now, but it still paled compared to the rest of the pain. "You had your chance! You rat!" screamed Vanessa angrily. Then, she took a firmer grasp of the pipe before deciding to put an end to whatever resistance that Angelina still wanted to pose. The punishment had to commence proper.

Price pulled back her pipe and then swung right towards Angelina's midsection again. Once, THWACK! Swinging with all of her might. Twice, THUNK! Painting her abs with a future bruise. Third, BRMP! Vanessa threw the pipe down, breathing heavily as she glowered at her beaten foe, surveying her handiwork now. She didn't want a response. She just wanted to satisfaction of it.

[Monsy]

You can hear it like a slap on water. Her head snapped to the side. “Ngh!” And her jaw felt unhinged. Pain exploded in all her teeth, gums and stung by just existing like an ever-present drill into her mouth. When it came to a metallic taste, she spat, spewing red from her mouth in a small spritz. The remainder sat on her lips. And with an eye closed, panting, you can see her red-tinted teeth on the lower jaw. “You are so dead--” Angelina growled, dizzied and seeing double after being knocked on the jaw, her skull feeling inflamed and her brain split.

Then came another swing. This time harder. She lurched into the restraints, “E-EH-HAGH!” Her voice buckled and caught a rasp. Her belly trembled, sucked in and the reddening bruise was spelling both above and below her naval. Again, “N-NGH!!” Her knuckles turned white and she bit her lower lip. Her mouth opened, trying to breathe. It didn’t come, but you can hear her whimper. Drool started easing out as she lost most self-control over anything beyond shivering.

Most of all, it was in her right ankle and leg. In extreme bouts of discomfort, where it was constant, it shook involuntarily. More than anything else. Her brain could think on its one and two motion, then shut out just about everything else. Just about. Again, “Keegh!!! h.hghh… nn…n..” Her head reeled back. She jolted violently, and she wailed in a chest-filled scream. Once it was over, when the smacks took a pause. She ended up breaking into quiet sobs, looking down at herself, seeing the purple take shape. Her body went loose. Two steady streams of tears burst, fell, as well as snot out her nose. Her lips were twisting, trembling. She breathed irregularly in fast inhales and slower exhales. Her eyes were half-open. “I-i’m gonna b-be fuckin’ sick…”

[Dubski]

Vanessa watched as Angelina reacted. Uncomfortable reaction of agony, at that. It seemed like her opponent had finally hit its breaking point with screaming, crying, and more or less having a breakdown. And VIP's hardened gaze twisted in discomfort as she watched the redhead, but she still remained so angry at her. It was only when Angelina spoke again did Price's eyes go wide. Her body shook and she leaned in closer.

"You're going to be sick?" asked Vanessa, putting a hand to her own chest. "How do you think I feel!? Having to suffer you and your impudence! Your ultraviolent bullshit! Your attempts to disfigure me--cripple me! And you just wanted me to blow it out my ass so you could keep doing macho bullshit! That! Ceases! Now!" bellowed VIP, getting in Angelina's face. "I feel sick to have to have tamed you like a flea-ridden, feral animal! Because that's what you are, just a few evolutionary steps up the ladder! You brought this on yourself! And this may have worked on other girls, but oooooh, it will not work on me! Because I will make sure you know exactly what you are, and get exactly what you deserve, just like any woman here who dares step to me!"

The fashionista stepped bad, giving a disgusted look at her opponent. "You feel sick... You should be," said VIP scoffing before throwing down the pipe and starting to limp away to exit the ring, leaving Angelina secured to the torture rack, beaten and bruised as she continued to look bitter heading to the back. She had won her match, but not without feeling the effects of it for some time. She was certain Angelina would be feeling it longer though.

[Monsy]

Winner via Torture Rack: VIP.