The Lady and The Tramp (Monique Ambrosia [D] vs Ivan Ramirez [D])

[DSX93]

***
Match Type: Hardstyle Hentai Match
Victory Conditions: Scoring an orgasm for the first fall, then a pinfall, submission, or KO for the second. Disqualification is in effect at all times.
***

Monique Ambrosia

Monique could hardly have asked for a better debut: Hardstyle Hentai, the perfect avenue to display her sexual and martial abilities even further around the globe than she already had in her storied, stellar career. LAW was always within her plan, being the vehicle that would take her to these final corners, those few stones that had been left untouched.

Tonight would bring her back to Italy. Not to Palermo, nor even to Sicily, but her LAW debut would bring her home nonetheless, and the sound of her

music would trigger an eruption of applause that was almost deafening. Exactly the reaction that a star that shines as brightly as hers deserves. And by the time she's done, it will shine brighter than the sun itself.

The skin that she had on display, a showing that was asked of her by bookers -- like she hadn't already planned on wearing what she was now. It was insulting, an assumption that she didn't know this game. But Monique held her tongue and let their ignorance slide.

The skin that she had on display only made for a louder reception when the fans saw it. Their energy was immediately invigorating, prompting a bright smile from their countrywoman, who made her way to the ring with little more flair than a few greeting waves and some extra sway in her hips, directing many an eye and a couple cameras to her toned and rounded rump, the cheeks of which her stylized leotard had left bare. Monique was at a point in her career where she felt that she didn't need the additional pageantry, especially in the place of her birth; her past actions and achievements were that pageantry, and as the capacity crowd so spiritedly showed her and the rest of the world, that indeed was all that they required of her.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is a Hardstyle Hentai match! Introducing first, standing at five feet and eight inches tall, and weighing in at one hundred and fifty-five pounds, fighting out of Palermo, Italy...! Moniiiiique Ambroooosia!"

Upon entering the ring, she leaned back against the ropes that would have her facing the stage, beginning a few final stretches with her back and ending with her legs to get nice and limber. Cracked her neck, did a little bouncing on her toes. She was more than ready for the debutant that she was to face, said debutant being another factor in what was surely to be a perfect night.

[MR. Q]

"Unsa man ni Manoy! Mura man ko ug bayot Ani!"(What the hell is this?! I look like gay with this!) I shouted at Mr. Q after wearing the outfit he wanted me to wear in my debut match.


Bastard only laughed and gave me a pat on the back.

"Sexy naka boy, sure ball nani ato kita!" (You look sexy, boy! Our paychecks are guaranteed tonight!) Mr. Q cackled, clearly imagining all the stacks of bills coming his way.

Jesus, what did I even got myself into.

"Gago man diay ka, gihimo Pako nimong Macho dancer kisa wrestler ani?!" (Stupid! You just made me look like a macho dancer, not wrestler) I smacked his hand away halfheartedly but I will admit it, it's not so bad if the paychecks are guaranteed.

Maybe I might even put my youngest brothers to school with this job.

Suddenly, I heard the announcer. That's my cue.

"O! Mao nato imo signal, pakita lindot na show. Kayata imong kontra! Hahahaha" (Oh! That's your signal, give us a good show. Fuck your opponent! Hahahaha!) I flipped the greedy bastard off as took jacket and covered myself up with it.

This is it.
.
.
.
.


"Ladies and Gentlemen! Tonight, coming from the South East Asia! The Fist of Manilaaaaaaaaaaa!

"IVAAAAAAAAN! AGILAAAAAAAAAAA! RAMIREZ!"



As SpongeCola's song began I ran out from the Backstage towards the ring, I didn't bother showing to the fans to night, they don't know me afterall.

Then I saw her. My opponent, Monique Ambrosia. I can give two words to describe her, Sexy and Dangerous.

To think I'm going up with a pro at my debut fight but meh, I got beat up by worst.

Police brutality in Manila ain't no joke.

Climbing to the ring, I took off my jacket and threw it to the crowd. Wolf whistles then filled the crowd especially from the women. But I know best, LAW is famous for turning men into women's plaything in the ring.

Unfortunately for them, I'm no pretty boy to drools over a woman's pussy. I'm just a kid from Manila, here to steal some money.

Their loss, my gain.

Hopping on my toes, I psyched up myself. Let's see how I compare to a pro.

[DSX93]

Monique watched his advance with a raised brow. An appreciative eye. This boy was well built, and his overall demeanor spoke of this being a simple fact of life for him. He was peppered with catcalls and whistles from the women in the audience, and she heard some male voices in the mix as well.

Ivan responded to none of it, sparing not even so much as a single glance. He was focused. She had all of his attention, just as it should be. And even better, the redhead appeared to be exactly the kind of man she liked to face in these contests, being here to fight just as much as he was to fuck. A sexfighter in the purest sense, she hoped. "You look like a man who likes to get down to business." Monique began, with a smile and pounding of a fist into her open palm to punctuate her observation.

And as she stepped forward, "My kind of customer." The home country heroine stopped in the middle of the ring and took

No more words. Just waiting for him to meet her there so the referee can get this thing going.

[MR. Q]

She's eager that for sure

Ivan thought as he mirrored her, taking on his own stance.

Feet apart, arms up, left guarding predominantly while his right coiled up.

He ignored the roar of the crowd. Distractions.
He focused on his heartbeat, breathing in tandem to calm his nerves.

This is it. The final count down.

DING

The all familiar bell rang and he treated it like an old friend.

In huge step, he crouched low as he rushed underneath her guard. His right fist dragging behind and accumulating force for a devastating uppercut.

A blow that would never land.

His opponent is a pro, he knew this. He can already tell as go through the motions that Monique knew his intentions.

Good. That means this will work.

The uppercut is merely a feint.

A feint to get under her guard and get close as she tries to dodge away!

[DSX93]

Ah, a boxer. Monique was sure that Ivan had other tricks up his sleeves, but the way he stood was very telling about what his wheelhouse is. The question was exactly what sort of boxer he was. Anything too slick and flashy was out: If he was here to try to make the highlight reel, that would've been made clear when he came out. And his feet were a little too flat on the mat for his style to be very mobile. An out-fighter, he was certainly not.

The former amateur boxer shifted her

to a Philly Shell, a silent word of respect to their shared discipline. To this day, it remains one of her favorite sports.

Her brown eyes peered unflinchingly, unblinkingly into his. A good staredown is oftentimes much more revealing than the way a person stands, but on this occasion, it didn't give her much more information than his entrance had: What was important was that Ivan had some appreciation and respect for the situation he's in. He's hungry and looking to take down a pro so he could say to the world, "This is my time." But at the same time, he knows that one wrong move is all it takes to make that go up in smoke.

The bell rang, and their game of chess was officially underway.

Monique's feet

in reaction to his offensive, her learned footwork making for a smooth glide. The kind of stuff that big shot directors want to see in an action sequence. Uppercut. A choice that required that much commitment, right out of the gate? His demeanor thus far didn't paint him that green.

That was a set-up. Something else is coming. The real attack...

[MR. Q]

She fell for it.

He was right on the spot. Monique is experienced and skilled. But it's also a weakness he can exploit and milk for all its worth.

The feint successfully set her up, backing away to dodge from an attack that never existed. Instead, it just made her vulnerable to his follow-up.

Right foot stomped forward to land on her foot, and it was followed by its sibling in the form of right hook to the face.

[DSX93]

Monique grimaced as his weight came down on her foot, sending a wave of pain shooting right up her leg. A kick. A shoot. Maybe even some kind of flipping maneuver. That was what the Italian was expecting when her gut spoke to her. But instead, he gave her thuggery. Thuggery that proved effective, pinning her place long enough for him to land a solid hook to the jaw.

And down she went. And just like that, Ivan had lost what little support he had from the Roman crowd that was now showering him with boos and jeers. It was nothing that could help her right now, however, as she slowly rose to her feet. She gave her head a shake, and with it, some of the daze. Were this a boxing match, she'd be on her way to beating the ten count. But as it is now, she's vulnerable...

[MR. Q]

And down she go.

It was a gamble but it paid off. It was a dirty move but against a real pro and in their own environment, he is the one that's in the disadvantage so he'll use everything he got despite the crowds disapproval.

Why would he care for them?

None of them care in his childhood and no one will in his adulthood.

His just a nobody.

So Ivan went to take the opportunity to grab Monique by their shoulder to pull them up in order to deliver some heavy body blows to her smooth stomach in order to push her towards the ring ropes or the corner.

[DSX93]

Monique found herself being helped onto her feet, and then to a punishing shovel hook that rattled her ribcage. Talk about a pick-me-up. But it did the trick. She shelled up and gritted her teeth through the storm Ivan was bringing behind it. Seeing that he was sticking to body blows, she started timing him. Focused her mind on getting his rhythm down. It helped dull her arms' silent cries as she was pushed back towards a corner.

She kept her cool and waited for her moment. When the time was right, she'd reach for the arm that wasn't swinging at the moment and grab at his wrist, block the one that was, hook her adjacent arm underneath it, and use his momentum back up, backed up with elbow grease, to try to switch their positions and place him against the turnbuckle instead.

[MR. Q]

Grabbing her shoulder and picking her up, Ivan sent a barrage of body blows. Each one echoing with a meaty thud with each hit. He was hoping he could weakened her, probably bruise her stomach or maybe upset her stomach for the entire night.

Yet it seems like his opponent is much more resilient. In a sudden twist, Ivan found himself outmaneuvered in his own pace.

He was confused as to how but somehow, his blonde opponent suddenly reversed their positions. Now, Ivan found himself at the corner instead of his opponent.

"Yati (curse word)!" Ivan spat a curse before raising his guard for protection to whatever counter his opponent has for him.