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

[BlackAkuma]

Beauty tried to put herself into March’s head, as much as she could while staying, trying to get some inkling of what the woman was going through. Holding this position had to be true agony, the human body was simply not meant to be in this position for long periods, but there was absolutely nothing she could do about it, nothing anyone could do. The referee was outside of the ring, her presence an afterthought, and it wouldn’t even matter if she was inside. Until Beauty left, the match was hers to win or lose. March was hers.

Exactly as she’d wanted it.

She took a moment to look over March’s body, taking in the sight of her opponent’s chest and the audience. While she hadn't paid any attention to the match card for the night, she was reasonably sure this wasn’t the first time things had gotten sexual in a match tonight, but to hear their cheers, you would think they hadn't seen a naked woman before. In their defense, the blonde’s pair were exceptionally fetching. Young, perky, bouncy, natural, not yet spoiled by a lifetime of taking hard hits.

Beauty would say hers were better, but only because she’d paid for them to be. Not that she would ever tell anyone that, least of all March.

Enough idle thoughts, though. She had business here, and the crowd was getting restless already. She could only draw out the teasing for so long. March’s pleased noises caught her attention and she licked her lips with anticipation - always wonderful to see the body disobeying the mind. So much she could work with.

Her finger slipped lower and lower , moving on from teasing to something far more audacious and direct. The crowd rose to attention, expectant, but she paid them little mind, instead focusing on the tender morsel between her jaws.

”For such a fast woman, you can be remarkably slow, March.” She ran her fingers over March’s chest, a gentle touch, until she found a nipple and gave it a sharp pinch between her fingernails. ”I’ve put it as simply as it can be put. If you want this to end, say the words.”

She leaned in and nuzzled her head against March’s cheek, like they were longtime lovers settling in for the night. ”’Please’. One little word, with sincerity and conviction, and it will all be over. Like. That.”

[DeVir]

This bitch never quit. March didn't recognize the irony.

As much as March might have liked making a show of someone she beat (especially a bitch like Beauty), she would have yanked the shirt off and started bailing so she could gloat about the win. But she wouldn't leave. She had everything she wanted. The blonde couldn't go anywhere or do anything or ever live this down, her quick-to-panic mind informed her while she stared wide-eyed out at the crowd. March kept wanting to demand a reason why she wouldn't take her victory and go home and stomp Beast into oblivion as a celebration, but she couldn't summon the energy or the focus. That hand kept creeping more deeply into her shorts before teasing what was already teased by... something happening here. And wet. A sound that mimicked the first one poured out of her again, this one dragging on for longer than she wanted. "Shit... shit..."

Finding some nice woods where she could run away screaming was the only thought that kept her from boiling over completely, but the pot was visibly simmering and shaking.

No one could tell if March was trying to pull her hips away or push them into the hand, but she gave up after the first couple of tries agonized her. There was no point regardless. Then a hand was on her tit. Then Beauty's face was smushed up against hers, and she was chattering again. March couldn't even look angry anymore, and as she slipped deeper into the feelings and sensations if only because they distracted her from her pain and embarrassment in this position, the moans poured out of her more freely. She turned her wrists and ankles almost involuntarily since they were all she could move without pain except for the ropes' burn.

And Beauty's offer started to sound better and better. But as soon as she started to genuinely ask for Beauty to stop, her mind erected that same stubborn wall, telling her that she couldn't give up that one thing even though it should have meant nothing to her in the face of all this helplessness. "Please...", she rasped with not an ounce of sincerity. "Bitch. Get a... life."

[BlackAkuma]

Beauty had been wavering on whether or not she found all this resistance endearing or annoying. On the one hand, she had to admit being amazed by March’s tenacity, her sheer grit in the face of overwhelming odds. She knew the woman was stubborn; she had sussed that out within two minutes of meeting her, but she was reaching genuinely insane levels of resistance. Most anyone would’ve broken by now. Beauty had reduced grown men twice her size into weeping puddles with this level of torture. Yet she was still going. Still fighting.

On the other hand, Beauty’s time was precious, and this match was as much about punishing March as it was making a statement to future challengers, giving them a preview to their fate if they found their way into her bad books. That would send the wrong message if she couldn't break this little girl. She craved nothing less than annihilation.

But March wouldn’t be a cooperative assistant. What to do, what to do.

With March’s latest act of defiance, Beauty had a long, dejected sigh, finally giving the woman the relief she wanted. She slipped away from her moistness and, after a parting squeeze, left her breasts alone. The audience voiced their disapproval, finally giving her the boos they were supposed to in the first place. ”You’ve disappoint them, March. But I’m sure you’ll get used to that feeling.”

Beauty kissed her on the cheek quickly, then turned away from her defeated foe, heading towards the cage exit. She had only reached the middle of the ring before she stopped and looked back over her shoulder with the devil’s smile. ”Before I go, though, one little thing…”

She rushed back in, wrapped her arm around March’s and pulled in for a tight rear naked choke, squeezing the life out of with a relentless squeeze. If she couldn't make her mind surrender, she would settle for making her body do it, putting her to sleep in front of millions.

[DeVir]

There was so much (too much) to process, and March herself barely knew why she was doing anything she was doing or how she hadn't teetered over the edge. Many years ago she had sworn to herself that she would never cry over much of anything. Tears forced out of her were one thing, but she wouldn't do that boo-hoo shit that weaker people did. She had more control than to end up in that state, and that was the razer-thin line keeping her from desperate mania while her body burned in ways she had never experienced. In her head, she kept snapshotting the horrors and misery this would lead to, but she couldn't focus on any of it. She couldn't focus on the humiliation of the moment, either. She couldn't-

Almost going out, it was, unfortunately, Beauty's movements and voice that kept her from blacking out. Another long, miserable groan poured out of March. It would be so much easier if she didn't have to stay awake and think about all these people watching her become a grope toy. It would be so much easier if she couldn't hear them booing, missing out on whatever kinky shit they wanted to see. It would be so much easier if she wasn't imagining people seeing straight through what little of her clothes she was still wearing to see how heated she was.

But Beauty was leaving. She was. She was. March had gotten one thing she wanted out of all this. "Better run..." she rasped out barely enough for herself to hear. This would all hit her as soon as she was cut down, but she was so tired and in so much pain and-

The arm around her neck brought back all the adrenaline and awareness and dread, and it was the tipping point. March met it at first by straightening and sputtering, but the panic coursed through her with wide eyes, reaching hands, straining legs, and worst of all, the tears. "Pl- please!" This one was genuine and a step away from a blubbering cry. "Ple- Pleeease! Letme- let-" She couldn't find the breath or voice for anything more even with her lips still moving to try and ask for it.

[BlackAkuma]

There was no gentleness this time, no toying with March, no subtle teasing. Fun as that was, she was done going that route with her now, the amusement had run its course. When she brought her arm around the woman’s throat, she squeezed with utter malice and seething content, letting her rage come out in a boil. Right from the beginning, the young wrestler seemed like she wanted to arouse Beauty’s ire, and here she was paying the price for that. Utter annihilation.

She would’ve been content with March simply getting knocked out. A humiliating way to go in itself, forced to fade out while throngs watched, made to look useless in front of your fandom. While it wasn’t the ultimate prize, Beauty could settle for having that in her back pocket, and she eagerly awaited the moment where the blonde went limp.

But good things often come to those who wait, and such was the case here, as March finally caved. Out came the pleading cries, blubbering wails made with what little breath she had left. True cries, real distress, genuine fears. Everything she craved, in a single moment.

Somewhere deep, in a place she often ignored, Beauty felt a tinge of pity. Her hold weakened, not by much, but enough to be noticed.

Then she hurriedly snuffed that flame out and clamped down even tighter than before. Her mind was made up, the deal was closed. March was going out. ”No, March.” She hissed through gritted teeth. ”You closed that door.”

Beauty stood on her tiptoes for maximum leverage, leaned back, and waited for the inevitable. ”Sleep.”