March 'the Hare' Michel vs. Beauty - Nowhere to Run

[BlackAkuma]

”Yes.”

Beauty clutched her prey tight, possessively, a hawk with a mouse gripped in her talons. These were her favorite kinds of submissions - not the most damaging, really, but the ones that let her feel her opponent as they squirmed beneath, let her ride down their struggles with her own body as the anchor. The Camel Clutch was a cliche, but with good reason. There was something so savage about mounting your foe, bending them, putting them on display for all the world to see, their anguish streaming worldwide…

And she was only getting started, too.

Of course, Beauty couldn't win like this, and she had no intention to. She would let her out of the hold, in a moment. Until then, though, she wanted to twist the knife. She eased up on the hold, just enough to let March breathe and speak but not enough to make either of those things easy.

”Listen. Listen close.” She leaned in and whispered in March’s ear as they looked out in the throngs. ”All those people who cheered you before? They’re not booing. They’re not cursing my name. Oh, some of them are cheering you on, sure, but others…” The hand at March’s breast began to pull at her top, letting it slip over her skin. Not enough to reveal the full set beneath, but enough to give the crowd a tantalizing tease of what waited beneath. Sure enough, catcalls began to come from the throngs, with all manner of lascivious noises following behind.

”They want to see you strung up, March. They want to see you laid bare. And I’m going to give them everything they want and much, much more. You will scream my name, I promise you.” She bit at her opponent’s neck, a little nip, worrying at her skin with her canine. ”But not yet.”

Beauty gave March the release she was craving, slipping her legs from underneath the woman’s shoulders and ending the hold. It wasn’t without payment, however - in the next moment, she gripped March’s hair tight with both hands, yanked it back for one, excruciating moment, then threw forward at full speed, smacking her face against the canvas.

[DeVir]

March had almost drowned before. While she had been choked plenty of times to get over her fear of that same feeling, she hated anything around her neck. It made her nervous. And while Beauty wasn't strangling the life out of her, March couldn't stop that fear from creeping into an overactive mind, wondering what she would do if she were stuck here long. It overcame even the pain in her bent back, thinking about the horror of being not only caught but seen as helpless. She started wriggling, unable to accept it.

Beauty allowed her even more space to breathe, however. To say that March relaxed would be a severe overstatement, but the fear subsided. And she had a chance to run her mouth again, at least after she coughed again. "You... shit. Stop playing and do something!" She started pushing with her knees and feet as best she could, but this was little more than staining the canvas with sweat. Damn it.

Even with Beauty's voice in her ear, she didn't stop, tiring herself for nothing. Nearly feeling immature enough that she wanted to say "lalalala" over Beauty's silver tongue, March settled for groaning and growling. But her attempts to pretend like she wasn't listening didn't stop her from listening, and she listened much more intently when she could sense her top trying to abandon her breasts at Beauty's behest. "That's my top!"

If she lost it, it wouldn't be the first time she had been bare-chested in public. A few benders, some before she had any legal rights to any benders, had taken her to some strange and wild and topless places. But this felt different because somehow, March knew where Beauty was going with her words despite all the hamsters running around in her head.

She found herself peeking at the people who could see half her breasts hanging out, and the smart-mouthed shit was right. Her thoughts sank. They did just want tits out and worse in this place, didn't they?

But Beauty's nip halted the descent, and March outright screamed. "Shut up and fight! You're boring them to tears, and I..."

Her tirade stopped when Beauty freed her, only to turn into a cry of agony when her hair was yanked and her face smashed into the canvas.

[BlackAkuma]

Beauty would give March credit, she was doing a decent job of playing her part as the bright, young, sparkling superstar with all the potential in the world. Even now, being bent in half with the threat of a mortifying loss hanging over her head, she still played the hero, defiant to the end, daring to fight and to stop delaying and so much nonsense. It was all so much noise, and Beauty paid it little heed.

No, what drew her attention most was the way her foe’s body reacted to the situation. The little shivers. The quickening breaths. The flushing skin. March was an open book, and one that Beauty would take great joy in reading—page by page.

The crowd threw scattered jeers her way when they denied them the sight of March’s breasts, and if she had the energy to care about such things, she would’ve laughed. Despite what people might have thought given her attire, she didn’t care a whit about pleasing them - it wasn’t as if they weren’t going to get plenty of material for their lurid fantasies before the night was out, anyway. They didn’t matter to her, but they did to March, given all the playing she did for them. She craved their attention, and now she was going to get it in all the worst ways.

After the little starlet’s face collided with the ring, Beauty stood up and cracked her neck, getting the lingering kinks from that headscissor out of her system. Did not want to be in that again, and she looked off to the side to a bundle of ropes, considering whether or not to tie March up, if only as insurance. She erred against it for the time being, knowing there were things she could only do easily while the woman was mobile. Winning wasn’t as important as making a statement.

”Now,” Reaching down, she gripped March once more and pulled her upwards, forcing her to stand if she didn’t want to lose her luscious locks. ”You were saying something about giving me a ‘faceful of cage’, correct? Did you mean to do something like…”

Beauty pulled March along, jerked to the side and tried to hurl her through the middle and top rope, a collision course that would, in normal circumstances, have tossed her clean out of the ring. Today, though, it meant her head was on an unpleasant collision course with the harsh metal, a harsh stop that would lead to an even harsh fall.

[DeVir]

March liked her nose. She considered it cute. Her appreciation for it deepened the pain coursing through her whole head from its impact on the canvas. It felt like it had been flattened back against her skull, and she cupped it in both hands, muffling the frustrated groans and the words that followed. "Now I swear your whole nose is going through the cage...", she declared. "I'm gonna shove it through there and tie you to it like that." These were all empty threats because she would tie her up however quickly she could and then... kick her or something, but the threats improved her mood.

Being yanked up again did not improve her mood. The ball of energy lashed out and swung and swiped, but with her fists being the least menacing part of her entire repertoire (and her back still hurting and causing her to hitch with each swing), March could not deter Beauty from pulling her around by her hair. "Get over your... hair... thing! Buy Beast a wig!", she yelled. She thought better of swinging and started more wisely reaching for Beauty's arm to try and bend the elbow, but the stumbling and staggering journey had come to an end.

March caught onto what Beauty wanted to do, but she defended against the wrong technique. "Hell no!" But where she expected Beauty to shove her face-first into the outside cage, the woman tossed her, and March's attempt to pull back didn't do a thing to stop her from tumbling through the ropes, hitting her cheek and shoulder against the cage, and falling between in such a way that her top half was on the floor and her feet were still stuck between the bottom rope and the apron.

And her entire cheek felt like it had been lashed with a wire. Which, technically, it had been. She nursed it, trying to reorient herself. "Bitch... bitch bitch..."

[BlackAkuma]

No, Beauty would not be ‘getting over her hair thing’ anytime soon. In fact, she planned on making it a cornerstone of her strategy from this point on, now that she could see how much it was irritating March. She could relate, few things enraged her more than having her own strands stretched out, which was why she enjoyed visiting that pain on her opponents. Few things pushed an opponent to blinding rage quite as quick, and in a match like this, there was no referee to stop her from doing it as much as she liked. She might even yank out a clump and take it home—a souvenir to commemorate the occasion.

Memories like these were meant to last, after all. After she launched March through the ropes, she took a step back to admire her handiwork, hands on hips, reveling in her opponent’s haggard state. Her spiteful comments made it even more satisfying.”And now we’re onto name-calling. Mature.” She snickered and stepped back. ”But not inaccurate.”

Beauty intended on showing March just how much of a bitch she could be, too. She moved away, waiting for her opponent to begin standing on the apron, taking in her full measure. Higher, higher, higher - right there. Once March halfway to standing, she took off in a sprint in the opposite direction, bounding towards the ropes and bouncing on the some hard that she nearly hit her head against the steel cage.

Beauty came sprint back towards her foe, moving so fast that her feet scarcely touched the match, picking up all the momentum she could muster. An instant before impact, she leaped up, tucked her feet in, then shot them at March’s head with a shotgun dropkick, trying to drill her skull right into the cage wall.

[DeVir]

"Bitch, bitch..."

March had run out of good threats, so yes, she had resorted to name-calling. As she slumped out of the ring, sliding slowly into the crease formed for the apron, she held onto the ropes so she wouldn't become the meat in a sandwich between the ring and the cage. She could only imagine what stupid shit Beauty would try to pull if she ended up somewhere like that. "This is exactly why I didn't want this cage," she complained to herself. With her tailbone, nose, and cheek all hurting to go with her earlier knocks, getting up had become a process, but March never failed to attempt it even when beaten to far worse of a pulp than this one.

And that sound was Beauty rushing her from across the ring. By the time she had processed it, Beauty was right on top of her, flying. March had only moved as far as the middle rope, and her legs were coiled up in the awkwardly small space of the apron. But if anyone knew how to react without thinking a thing about it, the Hare did. With a cry of both anger and desperation, she threw herself back down onto her back. Centimeters separated Morticia's flying feet from a collision with her head, and March tensed up on the landing. Her back hit the apron and Beauty's feet and calves landed on top of her. That was decidedly not a dropkick. That was Beauty hanging half in the ring and half through the ropes, much like March herself seconds earlier.

"Heeeh!", she taunted, given new life, and she grabbed one of the ankles draped over her.

...She didn't know what she wanted to do with it until she had clambered back to her feet with a grip on the ropes. But the successful evasion had charged her batteries again, and it was time to act and not think of consequences. "You want to play around with the cage, Goth-tits!? Here's how I play!" She shoved the leg down, grabbed the top rope- tooklikethreemillisecondssecondstojudgethedistancebehindher- and popped up. Her feet kicked off the cage, and she flipped over the top rope, coming down ass-first toward Beauty's chest and head with extra momentum.

Another callback to the last match.

[BlackAkuma]

Beauty wasn’t typically a ‘high-risk’ type. At least, she wasn’t the sort of woman who brought out such moves on the fly, like March was want to do. No, there was a time and a place for everything, and she liked to make sure her opponents were sufficiently withered before she attempted such things. She was good at judging when the right time to push that advantage was, and after seeing the young wrestler in one and a half matches, she felt she had a good handle on how much stamina she had to work with. This would hit.

Oh, reality could be so disappointing, sometimes.

The little heathen moved out of the way at the last second, the last nanosecond. Any later, and the blow would’ve connected clean. Any sooner, and Beauty would’ve simply aborted the move and tried something else. Like this, though, it was too late for her to do anything but follow through, and without a head for her body to bounce off of, her body sailed through the ropes. Her flight ended with her awkwardly hung up on the middle rope.

It was a weird place to be, but Beauty could’ve gotten out of it in two seconds. Unfortunately, March needed only one second to capitalize. All Beauty could do was look up in horror as the woman took flight, leaping over the top rope and dropping her not-inconsiderable weight down right on her chest, a move that sent her crashing into the canvas with a sickening thud.

It was Beauty’s turn to gasp now as the air was driven out of her chest. Gawking, she lay beneath March’s backside and tried her best to take in oxygen, but it was a tortuous process. She needed to recover. She needed space. She doubted her foe would give her either.

[DeVir]

"AGH!"

Dear god. Her fucking tailbone. March wasn't about to let the pain from the landing sour her on the fact that she had blasted Beauty's brains out with a flying peach, but she did have to sit back and grip her lower back because Beauty's curves couldn't have absorbed all the impact. "You need even bigger tits." Or maybe it was the woman's chin that had struck her in the tailbone. Whatever the case, March had paid her small price for the maneuver. She was cool with it because Morticia was... "Beneath me, right where you belong."

And March came just short of making another dumbass mistake by putting her dumb ass on Beauty's face. The Goth Queen got her kicks from that treatment, and March wouldn't make that mistake a second time. Fool her twice, or thrice, and all that. She told her brain not to think through it since she needed a better idea. ...Like getting those ropes involved. Hearing a few fans on the near side of the crowd drew her widening eyes to the corner. Yes, that was the ticket. Beauty might still enjoy that treatment, but at least she couldn't fondle March the rest of the match if she didn't have the use of her hands.

She knew better than to leave Beauty unattended, fortunately, and she got to her feet, interrupted by stumbling when her tailbone panged again. She ignored it in favor of revenge: a big handful of Beauty's pretty dark locks. "Lookie here, you've got more to pull." It was March's turn to start forcing her around by the scalp; she roughhoused her toward the nearest turnbuckle with one big yank, trying to force Beauty onto her knees or stomach. "On your knees, slave. Or... whatever you say to your freaky boy toy."

Whatever way she was positioned, March aimed to drop on the middle of her back (and NOT gently) and reach for the ropes. Time to get to the point.

[BlackAkuma]

It wasn’t much, but Beauty took some satisfaction when March made that pained sound upon landing on her body, still feeling the effects of her earlier damage. The tailbone was an odd place to feel pain, rare for someone her age, and she would absolutely be targeting that when the opportunity arose next. The only trouble was that she had no idea when that might be. The blond was in control for the moment and didn’t seem keen on giving that up easily.

For now, all Beauty could do was endure the punishment from a woman who was anxious to deal it out. Despite what some thought of as a sadist, she wasn’t averse to pain and could take more than most would think, but she preferred not to endure it from bitchy blonde brats like this.

Whatever March’s plans were, she wasn’t slow to enact them, as her next move was to - of course - grab her by the hair and drag her around the ring, no doubt getting revenge for the damage to her own follicles. Painful as that was, Beauty didn’t fail to notice that they were heading towards one of the rope bundles, leaving little doubt about what was on her mind. While she didn’t know how good this woman was with tying, she had no interest in finding out. She needed an out.

Beauty let out an uncharacteristic, undignified squawk as March dropped hard on her back, forcing her to bear the weight like a horse with its stead. The blonde reached out for the rope, but that wasn’t where her attention was. Instead, she was looking off to the side, at her opponent’s feet on the mat. Her bare feet. As it so happened, Beast had been subtly suggesting that she should get some form of actual wrestling boot for her outfit, and looking at March’s vulnerable digits made her remember why she’d entertained that idea so much as of late.

With little time to lose, Beauty reached over, wrapped her hand around March’s pinky toe, and gave it a savage twist in a direction it was never designed to go.

[DeVir]

"Ha!" Strictly because of the noise that she forced out of Beauty, March bounced on her back one more time to see if she could make it happen again. How she wished she had one of those pully-arm microphones to stick right in her face when she did it, too. "You sound like a dumbass. Maybe I won't let you sound like much of anything anymore!" Again, that was not March's best idea. She would be succeeding if she got Beauty tied well enough that she couldn't escape in the first place. Tying her mouth would be a greater challenge.

She should have practiced during the week, but she stayed so distracted.

And distracted she was as she nabbed a rope, cackling to herself in mocking mania. And she decided she should have her cake and eat it too. She let the rope circle around Beauty's face once she held it by both ends, and she situated it so it would stretch around her mouth. "Here we go horsie." She started to pull back and bend Beauty's neck in ways that necks shouldn't have bent when her entire foot told her that it had been set on fire. Or worse.

"Je-", she cried. Every pain-countering reflex known to humanity struck her, and March toppled over backward. "-sus! What the hell are you doing!?" There was genuine concern that Beauty had ripped some of the skin or a bone or a something out of her foot, and it took her three separate times to grab it so she could brace against the pain and check it for what was missing. Nothing was, but she didn't know how. The pain sent her into knocking her head against the canvas. Habit told her to turn and wail to the ref-

Who was outside. And didn't care what went on inside. "Shiiii-IIIIT!"