Typical Prey: The Beast vs. March "The Hare" Michel [Match Debut]

[DeVir]

March didn't know what a "kronik" was (or whatever the hell she had said), but the rest of Beauty's threat-non-threat didn't need translation. The Hare stuck her tongue out at her. "I'm gonna say never," she added as she tried to disconnect arm from socket. She hadn't succeeded because she was sure it took a lot more work to pull an arm out of the joint, and she didn't have the patience to wait around and try. But his wailing told her she had done a good enough job of making him wish he didn't have an arm.

While no one could accuse March of being a sadist, she did quietly snicker. Moving here had kept her away from the ring for too long, and as the pain continued to dull from the corner beating, all the delight of moving and battling began to wash over her. She had already launched to her feet before he finished his first bout of squirming. The only detraction was the ref, slow on the uptake, starting her count from above them and the crowd echoing it. "Boo! I like it out here," she declared to everyone and no one.

Still keeping one eye on Beauty, March all but skipped her way over to Beastie Boy as he started to get to his knees. She didn't go on the attack immediately. March liked action, but she knew the value of showmanship too. She first straddled him, standing above him with one leg on either side of his head, folded her arms over her chest, and winked at the crowd, letting them enjoy the sight of her lording over him. She even blew the commentator a kiss.

But the pageantry she turned into pain; those legs closed around his head, a little imprecisely though she aimed to get his skull between her knees, and she dropped, trying to use that leggy grip to slam him face-first back onto the outside padding.

[BlackAkuma]

Beast would’ve slapped himself if his good arm wasn’t hurting so much at the moment, already seeing where he’d gone dreadfully wrong in all of this. While he might have had the experience on March, she had the unique advantage that came with inexperience - namely, being too stupid to know fear. He hadn't expected her to launch herself out of the ring like that, hadn't figured her to be one of those risk-over-reward types, and now he was going to pay for it. Win or lose, Beauty would be hanging this over his head for months.

Thank god that inexperience also meant she was something of a blabbermouth, chiding the referee even as she continued the count. It was a slight reprieve, but one that Beast hoped he could use to catch his breath and shake off that hit. His vision was still a tad blurry, his eyes watering, but things were beginning to clear, and it was only a matter of time before he got it back together.

As he began to rise, however, he grew aware that she’d move over him, seeing her thighs in the corner of his eye. He had no idea what her plan was, but he had no intentions of letting her enact it, and prepared to rise up and through her off in a wild burst.

Too late. March’s tanned thighs clamped tight around his head, pressing with enough force to make his jaw crack, before his face was sent hurtling towards the canvas. She couldn't have weighed all that much, a lower middlewieght at best, but she still had enough weight to drop him hard into the floor, ramming his face against the mat and filling his vision with a white flash.

When the lights cleared, Beast found himself on his back, staring up at the ceiling with widened eyes and a gaping mouth, his world thoroughly rocked.

[DeVir]

March only didn't shriek kaboom as she rearranged the shape of his profile because she was already too distracted by the fun of it. "See if you beat my guts out in a corner again." But she did have to mock him in some way. Thinking, rightfully, that he wouldn't get up for at least a few more seconds, March popped up and shook her hips in a lazy club dance over the top of him, wrapping the momentary show with a wink at Beauty. "She's gotta go home with a loser tonight!"

In the meantime, the impact and his flopping body had left him on his back. March's eyes lit up with opportunity, and as he stirred, she listened to the entire crowd bark out the three along with the ref. Yeah, she still had time. Almost trembling from excitement at her chance to be a pure prick, March shrugged so dramatically at the crowd that one could have mistaken it for the start of the YMCA; it was the introduction to a facesit, more specifically.

No, she wouldn't have much time, but that wasn't the point. It was the indignity of it that she wanted to lay upon him. She dropped not so harshly that she would rattle his teeth but harshly enough that he wouldn't have any time to prepare, trying to make sure that he was positioned so he could still see her face from between her thighs.

[BlackAkuma]

Beast liked to think of himself as a calm man. A patient man. A man in control of his emotions.

But damned if March wasn’t beginning to fray his nerves.

It wasn’t so much that she was getting the better of him, but that she was making a show of it, and doing it right in front of Beauty. That would certainly leave to chastisement later on if he didn’t balance the scales, but she kept stubbornly surviving. It was an irritating pattern he wanted, no, needed to stop.

Unfortunately, March had other plans, plans that involve her posing about his face and dropping down on him for a round of smothering, something that caught him off guard and left her yelling into her crotch. If this were that sort of match, he would’ve been expecting it. But it wasn’t, this was out of left field, and worst of all - again - it was happening right in front of Beauty. The woman who had earned the right to sit on his face whenever she wanted to. The only one who deserved it.

Unacceptable. Completely unacceptable.

March could only see half of his face from between her legs, but that should’ve been enough to make out the mouting rage across his features. His arms came up, wrapped around her thigh, and pulled them in close as he began to sit up, rising even as her weight came down on his upper body.

Up, up, up he rose, until he stood tall with her on his shoulders in a position familiar to even the greenest wrestler. He marched forward, heading to the ring, and his intent couldn't have been clearer: He was going to drive March into the edge of the ring, breaking her in half with a vicious Apron Powerbomb.

[DeVir]

March had seen all sorts of videos, heard all sorts of rumors, and partaken in the gossip surrounding LAW. This sort of thing, the ass and crotch on face thing, happened in all sorts of matches here, and a lot of competitors got hot and bothered on the spot. Not her deal. March could be as horny as the next person, but there was too much going on and too many thoughts flying through her head for her to get an ounce excited about the physical contact in a match that didn't even call for that kind of steamy action. Humiliating the dignity out of him and hearing the crowd eat it up released enough dopamine.

"The Hare got the Beast this time, am I right?!" She hoped a camera had picked up part of that because it sounded cool, especially since she sealed it by folding her arms like the queen of her current castle. She was already imagining how neat it would look in a highlight reel when she caught a glimpse of his expression between her legs. She didn't take it seriously at first and in fact had more snide comments on the tip of her tongue. That was before he smashed the "up" button on the elevator that was their entangled bodies.

"Hey! Let..." Her hands came down to wrestle with his, but the grip on her thighs was like iron. What would have been threatening words became moans of uncertainty as he continued to lift her and drive her back toward the ring. In a lot of situations, the wriggling she began would have freed her; she was like a greased pig, a body in constant motion. But he had her.

And after her back hit the side of the apron, she had to check to make sure her lower body was still attached after the scream, the fall, and the roll onto her side. Her back arched in agony.

[BlackAkuma]

It was funny how character traits could be shared between partners after a while. Before Viktor met Beauty, he had never been much of a sadist. Oh, he liked fighting, and he didn’t mind inflicting damage, but he never took pleasure in it for the sheer sake of things. It was always only a means to an end, just what he had to do to win—only about the sport.

But Beauty had changed all that. She’d not only brought the masochist out of him, but a bit of the sadist as well. All that to say, when he brought March down on that apron, he enjoyed the look of raw pain on her face in a deeply satisfying way, close to what he would usually only get from Beauty’s bedroom. And he had only just begun.

He staggered back after landing the hellish blow, wiping his mouth to try and rid himself of her taste, then moved back in to follow up, knowing the perils of giving this woman too much rope to work with. He reached down, grabbed two handfuls of her hair and roughly yanked her up to her feet, all while the referee protested. ”Come on, bring it back in the ring you two!”

”Very well.” Beast proceed to do just as the official asked - sort of. While he did toss March into the ring, was quick to grab her legs and pull them back out, pressing her crotch against the ringpost and leaving her to dangle off the side of the ring. That would’ve been distressing enough, but he had another, darker surprise for her.

Sitting on the apron, Beast proceeded to grab one of his legs with his arm while scissoring her other leg with his own thighs, keeping a tight grip on the both. With his grasp secure, he began to force her into a split, while at the same pressing her most sensitive spot against the merciless metal.

A banana split, or as he liked to call it, the Divide. The referee was already counting, so this wouldn’t last long, but he suspected it wouldn’t matter too much for March. Four seconds could feel like four hours with the right amount of pain.

[DeVir]

"God... shit..."

It wasn't much of a prayer March uttered as she dragged her cheek and palm over the floor, but she didn't intend for it to be, either. Her words also barely passed for describing the pain in her back, and she didn't know what to hold or nurse or try to pull back together first. She also didn't know whether to swing at him or lie there dying as long as she could or roll under the ring or- "Uuuugh!" The middle one sounded good.

He would have none of it, and it was her hair that he targeted first. March let out a wail and a garble of curses and protests and things that didn't sound like words at all, but with her body already overwhelmed with pain, she thought better of trying to fight and having pain on her scalp, too. She was on shaky feet in seconds, barely able to keep her legs from jiggling beneath her panging back.

Back to the ring? That sounded okay. With her eyes forced shut from pain-induced tears, the Hare thought she would let him... do that. Get her back in the ring. Then she could figure this out. Then she could "accidentally" hit him low or hook an eye socket or act on one of the other dozen ideas that coursed through her skull and kept her from thinking about how badly her back hurt.

Inside, she lay there, acting on none of it. A couple more seconds to recover, and then she could get up and blast him to hell. Except he hadn't joined her, and he was dragging her. March didn't know what to make of it until the cold metal of the ring post against her inner thighs and crotch made her shiver. "What do you think... you're doing?", she demanded to know while she forced herself to sit up.

She shouldn't have bothered, since the pain that shot wildly below the hips through stretched tissues to pulled muscles to bent bones to straining ligaments to her crushed pussy threw her back onto the mat and left her punching the canvas like it had killed her hamster. "Oh my GOOOOOD!", she screamed, her hands slapping over her face. What did she do where did she go how did she-

In the process of rolling in pain, she hugged the ropes, but she wailed on and on without noticing.

[BlackAkuma]

Beast was getting angry. How did Beauty know? Because when Beast grew angry, he grew petty. Vindictive. Best of all, and it brought out his best creativity, and that was precisely what she was seeing now.

While he had used this particular move before - quite often, in fact - she had never seen him do it in such a punishing, unique way, using the ring to add to March’s torment. The wails he forced out of the girl were exquisite, naturally, but Beauty found herself enjoyed the sight of her twisted legs, as well, watching as her body was contorted and stretched to its breaking point. To say nothing of the horrendous visage on her face. It made her wish she’d had the forethought to make this a handicap match, but manage would not have likely approved that for a first outing. Regrets for another time.

Beast was doing a decent job of representing them both for the moment, anyway, as he stretched March out and split her down the middle all at once, a truly agonizing position. She would’ve been beyond help in a hardcore match, but the referee was in her favor in this instance.

”3! 4!”

Beast waited until the last second - the last fraction of a second - and finally let go of the hold, but that was hardly the end of March’s suffering. His next move was to grab her by the ankle once more, dragging her back to the center of the ring. He could’ve gone for a number of moves. Submissions. Stomps. Elbow drops. Anything.

Instead, he went for a pin. He grabbed her legs, folded her over, then posted up with his legs, straddling her hips as he pressed down. He doubted it would be enough to win, but that was hardly the point. He would get back to the physical torture in a moment, but for now he wanted to inflict some mental damage.

The referee slid over and started up the count. "1...!"

[DeVir]

If March had any space to think whatsoever, she might have determined that this horrible, contorted, split position fit in a list of her top three worst in-ring experiences, and it wasn't in third. March didn't know what to grab or hold or how to move to relieve some of the pain, and with her sense of pride and dignity leaving, the cries almost turned into sobs with metal splitting her in half and her legs so bent she didn't know where one ended and the other began. She even outright forgot the concept of tapping entirely, not that it would have counted or mattered with the ref pushing the rules.

At once, the agony stopped. Or the worst of it did. With the pressure ending, she grasped at her strained hamstrings and her crunched crotch and her twisted knee all in order, able to recognize each hurt. That didn't make any of them any better. "You're some fuckin'... piece of... scummy..." Each lame insult came through labored breaths, and he didn't care. She cried as she pulled at one of her fucked legs, and instinctively she went to twist and claw at the canvas to keep him from dragging her away until the effort proved too painful and urged another yelp from her lips. She was along for the ride. This was going horribly.

He lifted her by her legs, and March clenched her eyes and jaw shut, whined, and waited for more pain to be inflicted. But the only pain coursed through her back and her upper thighs; she opened her eyes to the sight of her own feet dangling to either side of her head and her whole body folded into a humiliating half, her ass in the air. And her overactive mind went wild again, thinking of how people were going to see this and she looked hapless and hopeless and stupid and she would see it on social media-

"Oh fuck," she whined when she noticed the ref and crowd were counting. With a cry, she threw out her arms, the only part of her not hurting. Her shoulders lifted and her figure unfolded a millisecond before the count of two, but she couldn't do anything but roll back onto her stomach.

[BlackAkuma]

Beast was highly aware of the noises March was making, enough to realize those weren’t just cries of pain - those were sobs. Real, genuine anguish, the kind that didn’t come so quickly from the proud. He’d already gotten the impression that she was high on herself and her capabilities, just from the way she’d spoken and carried herself thus far. Still, now he was getting the sense that she wasn’t the type who handled being in a demeaning position all that well. It was a critical note to make - he could work her over physically and mentally, demoralizing her with the right moves. He, of course, had excellent choices in mind.

His pinfall attempt was a good test of that theory, a move that was more meant to make a spectacle out of her body than score a victory. He paid close attention to her face as the referee’s hand came down and saw her run through the gamut of emotions in that second: Shock, anguish, embarrassment, panic. She got it together before the second slap, but it was too late. The chink in her armor was obvious now.

He’d been thinking of a particular move earlier, hadn't he? As good a time as any to go for it.

When March flipped over, Beast stayed on him, swinging his legs around to look down on his hapless prey. He placed his foot on her thighs, just above the knees, pinning her legs to the ground, the reached back to grab her feet and hook them over his calves, trapping her in place. With his position secure, he reache down and gave her a quick slap across her backside. A quick insult. Now came the injury.

Reaching over, Beast seized March by the wrists, fell backwards and proceed to lift his opponent’s body into the air with his legs, stretching her shoulders and back out with the Mexican Surfboard or the Romero Special or whatever you wanted to call it. The name hardly mattered. It was effective, painful, and it put his foe’s body on display for the whole world to see in agonizing, detail, stretching her out, leaving her nowhere to hide the sorrow on her face.