Match Type Facesit War
Victory Conditions: Whoever scores the most submissions or knockouts via facesit in a thirty-minute period will be declared the winner. Anything Goes, No Disqualifications, No Count-Outs
***
Wendy Winston was pissed off.
Oh, this was far from the first time she'd been angry, true. It didn’t take a whole lot to piss her off in the first place, she had something of a hair-trigger temper, and she was more or less permanently in that zone, especially since she’d gotten to Japan. It seemed like every other day there was something that would tick her off a little, varying degrees of annoyances that would graduate into serious pains in her asses. During her time in LAW, she’d wracked up a fairly impressive little list of people she hated and people who hated her back just as much.
But none of them - not a single fucking one - had ever managed to piss her off quite like Storm Macintosh. Not even close.
It had been one week since Storm and Lyssa had invaded Wendy’s apartment and ran roughshod all over her. One week since they’d tied her up, humiliated her, beat the shit out of her, and spread the film all over the internet. One week since Lyssa used her face for a vibrator and Storm smothered her into unconsciousness. One week since she’d woken up with Lyssa’s cum-soaked thong stuffed in her mouth.
One. Long. Week.
Ever since that invasion, Wendy had spent her time doing two things, mostly. First, she tried to scrub the file off the internet, without much luck. She was able to get it off her website, but it had already started proliferating by the time she’d woken up, downloaded and appeared on a host of free porn sites. Getting it off PornHub was easy enough, but most of the other sites either gave her lip service and did nothing or just outright ignored her. Even if they all deleted the thing, it would just pop up on forums for free downloads. It was in the wild, dispersed, and the toothpaste was out of the tube. Nothing she could do about it. Fuck.
The second thing she did, though, was to speak with LAW management and demand a match with Storm. Not just any match, either. After what that woman did, Wendy wouldn’t be content with facesitting her once, or even twice. No, she wanted to sit on that face again and again and again. She wanted to sit on her so much that, when she was done, she’d walk up the ramp with an imprint on her face and leave no doubt as to who was the true queen of ass-smothering in LAW, the sort of beating that would ensure no one ever did what Storm did again.
It took no shortage of cajoling, calling, and outright irritating the upper officials, but she finally got what she wanted.
The LAW crowd erupted as Wendy’s played, but they wouldn’t have long to enjoy it. She came storming out from behind the curtain, a microphone in hand, shrieking all the way down the ramp.
”Turn it off! Turn off the music!” She scrambled up on the apron and nearly tripped on the ropes getting into the ring, in too much of a hurry to even care. ”Storm! Thunder! Whatever-the-fuck you call yourself!” She stomped around the ring, nearly knocking the referee out of the way as she went. ”Get your flabby butt out here right the fuck now, you stupid cunt! They’re gonna need a goddamn crowbar to get your face out of my ass, I swear to god!” She hurled the microphone out of the ring and continued pacing, fuming with every step.
Wendy, Not In A Good Mood
