Hentai Pop Quiz: Ms. Spencer vs. Arlise Christiaens

[Winter]

Arlise knew such a simple maneuver could go one of two ways.

One, Muriel would find her face buried in feet a disgrace. A discomfort. Disgusting. Even a moment underfoot could rattle her, and Arlise could make good on more of her own ground game before the teacher recovered her senses. Given her apparent refinement, this result would not have surprised her, though she had known plenty of refined women who loved delicate feet. That presented the other option - Arlise could rattle her by "playing the right chords," as her people might say. Whatever the result, the redhead pressed down and stared intently to savor her few moments of dominance before she transitioned to something more appropriate for the "hardstyle" half of the match.

The tongue on her feet nearly made her jump out of her skin.

She had discovered to her own ruin during her spar with Eve Summers that she did not react well to being tickled in the middle of a match, though she had long fooled herself into believing she was not so ticklish as some. Unlike last time, when Eve had tricked her out of an advantageous position, Arlise, visibly tensing and shivering as the tongue played at her sole, forced herself to stay rooted in place. The sensation had her grasping at the mat and biting her lip, and she lost all concept of strategy. "That is not what I expe..."

She squeaked, though she slapped a hand over her mouth to silence more sounds of surprise. Her misplaced determination left her with both feet in Muriel's grasp, and with no trouble at all, the woman flipped the distracted redhead onto her stomach. Arlise knew technical mat wrestling too well to mistake what came next, and while the redhead reached out and pawed at the canvas in a last-ditch effort to escape, the teacher pulled her until Arlise's fingernails scuffed the mat like a scene where a monster dragged the victim away in a horror movie. "No! Oh... God...."

Of course, Muriel only dragged her mere inches to bend her ankle into her arm, and Arlise buried her face between her elbows and covered her head to muffle the cry of pain that flew from her throat.

[BlackAkuma]

There was a time, not even that long ago in the grand scheme of things when the idea of licking another woman’s foot like this would’ve mortified Muriel. Before she had truly gotten into pro wrestling, the idea of such intimate contact was unthinkable, and she would decry such actions as filth, the sort of degradation that she wanted to keep Ms. Welsh away from.

Oh, what a difference a few years could make. She would never have dreamed of findinge herself here, on her back, running her tongue along a woman’s immaculate feet, but she wasn’t complaining.

At least, she wasn’t complaining until Muriel abruptly turned the intimate moment into an excruciating one, transitioning into a tight Ankle Lock and cranking up the pressure. It was more than effective, likely would’ve gotten a submission if she’d held on for long enough.

But that wasn’t what Muriel was going for. Instead, she stood up and forced Arlise to rise along with her, making her stand up on one leg while she kept the other trapped in her grasp. She pulled her towards the center of the ring, where she executed her next move.

”Tricolor Suplex Hold!”

She wrapped her arms around Arlise’s waist, arched her back, lifted the woman up, and brought her down hard on her shoulders with a German Suplex. Instead of releasing her, however, she rolled through, stood her up again, and got hands under the redhead’s shoulders, trapping her with Full Nelson. From there, she lifted her and brought her down on her shoulders with another suplex, again battering the same area…but she was still not content to leave it at that.

Muriel brought Arlise to her feet one, final time, and brought her arms down to trap the Belgian’s arms behind her back. She locked her fingers, making sure they were as tight as possible, then lifted her opponent up, jerked back, and slammed her flat on her shoulders with a deafening crash, one that seemed to make the entire arena quiver. Instead of letting go this time, Muriel bridged up and held position, attempting to keep her opponent rooted for a pinfall attempt.

The referee was quick to oblige, sliding over and starting the count. ”1…!”

[Winter]

The ropes had not crept any closer.

Despite the distracting hysteria brought on by her pained, twisted ankle, Arlise could remember the pleasure of seeing those ropes so far away with Muriel between her thighs. Now, through blaring, watery eyes, they looked even farther, though she and Muriel had barely moved. Still, the determined redhead thought the idea of reaching them easier and more attainable than an attempt to turn and propel Ms. Spencer away. In fact, the idea of anything turning any more than it already had brought several fresh moans from her lips and left her pressing her forehead on the canvas before she began the horizontal climb to her escape.

She marked off three inches of progress before Muriel pulled her back a foot, again leaving the redhead's fingers sliding pointlessly across a mat she could not grip. "Nnnnn.... nuh! You... can't..."

It took her another moment to realize that Muriel no longer twisted her foot - she only felt the aftereffects. She straightened it and gasped her relief, but she could not savor it as the teacher yanked on the leg so roughly that Arlise had to get up on both hands and hop on the toes of the one free foot to avoid falling on her face. "No! Off!", she demanded as best one could "demand" with her voice wavering, but once Muriel cried out, the redhead followed the plot. She remembered those Roses clips.

She tried to scramble, but Muriel had her by the waist before she could. The woman's first yank pulled her off her feet and robbed her of her defenses, and Arlise forced herself not to cry out as she whipped through the cool indoor air. Her hair filled her eyes before the landing. Likely for the best, considering the first landing crunched her body so completely that it felt like her chest became part of her neck. An indescribable sound poured from her, and it lingered as her pain-ravaged body listlessly reclined in Muriel's arms as the woman puppeted her arms.

The air whipped across her again, and she whimpered on the second impact, her ribs seeming to rattle against her shoulder blades with her arms helplessly nelsoned and unable to protect her from the follow-through on the landing. Her shapely body attempted to crumple, but again she merely wimpered, a thousand miles away, as Muriel again manipulated her arms.

She barely comprehended the motion on the final slam, only feeling her neck crumple, and she all but blacked out from pain. The crowd could tell she might have remained propped up, ass in the air and feet dangling by her head, as she landed even without Muriel propping her up. Arlise didn't have the capacity to worry about how she looked - she didn't even hear the ref cry out, "Two!"

[BlackAkuma]

Calling out the attack like that wasn’t strictly necessary, and Muriel would concede that it was rather silly. But, if there was one thing she learned from Rumble Roses, it was that professional wrestling needed a little theatre, a dash of panache, some style. She resisted it at first, but it had grown more natural to her as time went on, and now she indulges freely - just not at the cost of her effectiveness. She wouldn’t have bothered with the utterness if she even doubted that Arlise could evade this.

That confidence was shown to be well-founded, as she brought her foe up and sent her crashing down, again and again and again. Each impact was more resounding than the last, and when it was all over, Arlise was on her back, folded up, her pretty legs dangling while the referee brought her hand down for the final count.

”3…!”

The crowd cheered and Muriel released the pin right away, letting her foe flop down while she stood and enjoyed their adulation. Chants of ‘You Still Got It’ broke out here and there, and while she already knew that, their reinforcement did not go unappreciated. She gave them a quick wave, then spun about on her heel to look Arlise’s way.

Muriel placed a hand on her hip and allowed her foe to rise, giving her the space she would need to keep this sporting. ”An admirable effort so far, Ms. Christaens, but not quite enough. Thankfully, the lesson isn’t over just yet, and there’s still time to improve.” She lowered her stance, arms up, ready to engage once more.

”Again.”

[Winter]

Arlise would have rather remained senseless a few moments longer.

Her neck, her shoulders, and her back might have had the time to recover. Instead, as Muriel let her go and she began to stir with awareness and feeling again, she quietly whimpered one more as she rolled onto her stomach. Both hands moved to nurse her neck - or better yet, to check if it remained attached to her body - as she sucked at the canvas to breathe and... recover. She lay quite the stretch from an actual recovery.

Muriel's words, however, reached her, and she did not miss the taunt in their cordiality. She wanted to rob her of that smugness, and the cameras eating up the sight of her prone form - much the same as they had during the match with Alaina - would have to find a new target, too. Pride and stubbornness, enough to force her upright even if she had lost her arms during the finisher, motivated her to stand, though she could not hide the damning wince that stretched across her red-painted lips once she stood on both feet and tried to straighten.

But she forced her way through the pain and regarded the former teacher with indignation colored in her gray eyes. "I have heard I'm a slow learner," she told her, coolly.

She afforded herself one more moment's respite as she scanned Muriel and reconsidered her strategy. For all the pain, she still had energy - their exchanges had left them rolling and tumbling more than tearing around the ring. Falling on her head a few times had likely triggered enough adrenaline to rouse a slain lion, too. She had to pick up the pace, she imagined... but only look for those exact moments of advantage. No letting Muriel bait her into a technical, countering game.

So Arlise would seek to counter first. She dropped into her low stance, ignoring her many miserable aches, and beckoned for Muriel to come for her.

[BlackAkuma]

A part of Muriel worried that, in her taunting, she had gone a step too far. While they had started on a good natured note, there was no telling how the woman would react to being put on the backfoot. She wasn’t trying to be mean to the woman, and was simply trying to inject a little competitive energy into the proceedings. Shades of Ms. Welsh rubbing off, no doubt.

She was heartened, then, when she saw the woman raise her way up, with no small amount of fire in her eyes, a perfect match for her incarnadine hair. As she spoke,” Muriel felt her smile widen before she knew what was happening, as if her body itself was excited for what came next. The match had only just begun. ”Not a problem at all, Ms. Christaens.” She wiggled her fingers and leaned forward. ”I am nothing if not patient.”

The two went into motion again, though Muriel could sense something was different this time. Despite being dropped on her head, the woman seemed more focused now, more measured in her approach, as if she were considering the nuances of every move. More importantly, she wasn’t charging forward. She was hanging back, waiting, baiting Muriel to take the initiative.

Very well.

Muriel juked left, the right, then came in front the left again, trying to throw Arlise off before she rapidly closed the distance. She ducked down, reached out, trying to grab her by the knees and push forward, hoping to bring the woman to the mat with a double-leg takedown.