H1 Climax Tournament Hentai Match
Victory to be awarded by hentai fall/forcing the opponent to climax. The winner will advance to the Quarterfinal Round.
Last edited by winner3 on Mon Feb 17, 2025 1:00 am, edited 2 times in total.
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While she understood that they could misinterpret such a thing as arrogance, she knew herself. Could be why, as she slowly exhaled, the anticipation in the LAW arena hasn’t affected her. Sure, this isn’t her first rodeo, and even as this is now past the second year of being in LAW, moments like these would bring butterflies to those that don’t have the stomach for it. The low hum of excitement buzzed in her chest, mingling with the faint scent of leather and stage fog. It had been months since she last stood under the bright lights of Tokyo, deciding to take some time off on the holidays. Although it was in England, she did not visit her parents. The brunette doubted they’d be willing to welcome her back with open arms after her…recent work.
Deciding that her first match this year would be the opening round of the H1 Climax Tournament was a wild decision, but for Madeline, she did not mind. All of her conquests would eventually lead towards claiming gold, said gold that is itching to be wrapped around the waist of the victor after being unceremoniously vacated, much to the English Rose’s chagrin. Regardless of the reason, it’s tragic to see such a title go without a champion, and with how Madeline sees the hentai division could go, she hopes that her victory will bloom into something greater.
The moment the first pulsing beats of her theme hit the speakers, her lips curled into a smirk. Sultriness and rebellion, all described in a song—just like her. The moment had arrived. Ring Attire
Theme
A dazzling wash of magenta and silver lights flooded the stage, illuminating the grand entranceway as the LAW Arena erupted into cheers. The arena’s atmosphere thickened as a cascade of fuchsin rose petals rained from above, fluttering to the ramp like embers caught in the wind. When Madeline stepped through the curtain, she did so with a deliberate, unhurried stride, allowing the moment to build, to let the eyes of thousands drink her in. Tall, statuesque, and exuding confidence with every movement, she carried herself like a woman who knew she was meant to be here. Her emerald-green eyes, fierce and knowing, swept across the sea of spectators, a silent promise glimmering beneath her gaze.
Her attire, a striking fusion of grace and dominance, the magenta rose at the centre made a signature emblem of her presence. Thin crisscrossed straps framed her décolletage, a delicate touch to contrast the raw power coiled beneath her toned form. Matching black bottoms sat low on her hips, leaving just enough of her sculpted midriff exposed to tantalise. Her long brunette locks cascaded down her back, a natural wave to them that caught the stage lights, giving her the air of a warrior queen.
At the top of the ramp, she paused. The beat of the music vibrated through the arena, the energy of the crowd washing over her in a surge of adrenaline. Bringing a hand to her lips, she blew a teasing kiss to the audience before pivoting gracefully, beginning her descent toward the ring. With every step, rose petals crunched beneath her soles, the symbolic trail of an English Rose reclaiming her place in battle. Tonight wasn’t just about winning. It was about returning with purpose.
And if Natasha Loclear thought she would be the one to pluck the petals of the English Rose and take the first victory of the tournament at her expense—then she had sorely underestimated just how sharp the thorns had become.
Ever since signing up with LAW more than two years ago now the Frenchwoman had been advocating for another H1 Climax tournament, she could even remember her first interview for the monthly magazine here where she had pushed for more Hentai Division focused events. When the Hentai Title had unfortunately needed to be vacated Natasha had hoped such an unexpected event would push management to give her, the other Hentai Division members, and all of the fans the gift of spectacle when it came to naming the new owner of the Championship belt. And now she had gotten her wish.
When Madeline stepped up to make her grand entrance Natasha was standing in a dark corner of the Gorilla Position, just out of sight of the entrance curtains where she could just catch a glimpse of her magenta clad opponent before she vanished into the arena. She had kept herself in the dark to help hide her nervous pacing, or at least that had been the plan, but in a surprise even to herself Natasha was calm instead. Sure there were the usual butterflies in her stomach but they were old friends by this point, but rather than being plagued with second guessing her preparation or trying to make plans for everything her opponent might do Natasha found herself simply thinking back to the road that took her here. Looking back over the last two years reminded her that she had already put in the work for this, now she just had to go out there and get to work.
Once her turn came the lights went off in the arena, leaving everyone in the dark except for the thousands of tiny LED lights throughout the rafters that represented the night sky. This entrance was well known and many in the audience readied themselves to sing along with Awaken, only to be caught off guard when a new song began to play. As it began each rise of the song was accompanied by a blue spotlight that sprang to life and roamed about the crowd and by the end of this introduction seven such beams were lit. On the eighth and final rise all of the spotlights suddenly raced to the staged where they combined just in time to highlight a geyser of water that shot upward and then crashed down onto the stage like wave, with Natasha Loclear having timed her run out to appear as if she had been left behind by the rush of water! Theme
Clad in blue, black, and gold Natasha held her pose for a few moments before making her way down the ramp, the blunette dancing along to her new song with fluid movements that ensnared the gaze of thousands both in the arena and around the world. She would dance over to the railing and gesture for the fans there to dance with her, many accepting the offer so that by the time the flirtatious Frenchwoman was in front of the ring she had dozens of fans dancing along. Here Natasha paused just long enough to lock eyes with Madeline, her heart only now beating fast as she then climbed into the ring to meet her English foe face to face and chest to chest.
"Who would have thought I'd pull you in the very first round, how lucky am I?" Spoiler
Madeline stood in the ring, poised with the effortless elegance that came naturally to her. The roar of the crowd, the flashing lights, the electric atmosphere—it was all background noise, a mere stage for what truly mattered. It did not differ from the other matches she has been in. And at the centre of it all stood Natasha Loclear, bathed in the last remnants of her grand entrance, her body glistening under the spotlight’s glow.
Their eyes met, and for a moment, Madeline held Natasha’s gaze unblinkingly, unshaken. There was tension there, not of hostility but of something far more intoxicating—a challenge, an acknowledgement, and an unspoken promise of what was to come.
The Frenchwoman was all fluid grace, exuding confidence in a way that made even the most seasoned opponents second-guess themselves. No doubt there was a lot of thought put into such an entrance. Even she had expected her usual entrance song. Instead, it was a new song and new attire from the looks of it. Yet still the same Natasha. But Madeline was no mere spectator to be swept up in the tide of her theatrics. She had carved her own path and built her own legend, and tonight, she intended to cement it further.
Natasha’s words came smooth, flirtatious, laced with amusement. A smirk tugged at the corner of Madeline’s lips. She tilted her head ever so slightly, her chestnut curls cascading over her shoulder as she took a measured step forward, closing the sliver of space left between them. Chest to chest, breath to breath, she could feel the heat radiating off Natasha’s body, the pulse of anticipation that echoed between them.
“See, I’d say this is a risky move on the booker’s part.” Madeline’s voice was rich and sultry, yet edged with playful competitiveness. “Because they could have easily saved the best for last. Or I suspect they want this tourney to start with a bang, ending be dammed? I do feel sorry for the other competitors that must attempt to follow this~.”
She let her fingers trail lightly down the front of Natasha’s attire, just a whisper of touch, the barest tease, before pulling away. Her smirk deepened, sharp as a blade, and her emerald eyes alighted with a challenge. “Because this will be a spectacle to behold. It's just a shame it will be at your expense~." she said, her viridescent gaze never wavered, exuding unwavering, predatory confidence.
Natasha couldn't remember a match in LAW that hadn't started with her opponent going chest to chest with her before the bell had even had a chance to ring. Not that she would ever complain about it, especially not when her opponent was the British answer to her sexuality, Madeline Christiansen. This wasn't their first encounter but Natasha knew she couldn't think any further on what had happened in the past, not when Madeline would require all of her focus to be on the here and now if she wanted to come out of this the winner. There were few women on the roster that Natasha didn't find tempting (LAW truly did know how to recruit), but this particular brunette had found her way into her thoughts more than once, and Natasha just couldn't wait to get started with her.
"Or perhaps luck of the draw brought us together again? Which if true only means that fate itself couldn't wait any longer to see us locked together on this grand stage." Natasha waved her hand out towards the gathered crowd, drawing both a cheer and accidentally starting a wave to run through the audience. One she wouldn't notice until she got a glimpse of it as the wave finished behind Madeline. "Don't feel too bad for them~ After all they'll still have the joy of taking me on." She added a wink to the end of that little boast, those icy blue eyes shining beneath the bright lights up above.
Those same eyes would glance down as Madeline's fingers drifted down along the lines of Natasha's two piece ensemble. "Always so eager, glad we agree on that part." With that said Natasha would hook a finger under the middle of the brunette's top and pull the woman in close enough for their lips to just barely not touch, though their chests sandwiched together beautifully. "Give me your best and I'll do the same, good luck~"
Natasha would then release her and step back a few feet to await the ringing of the bell, her hands up and her legs spaced out in a stance more fitting for a striker.
Madeline’s lips curled into a knowing smirk, her emerald eyes gleaming with something playful yet calculating as she listened to Natasha’s words. The Frenchwoman always used theatrics, spinning poetry even before the fighting began. It was charming, in its way—an extension of her seductive nature, of the artistry with which she approached everything in and out of the ring.
“Fate, is it?” she mused, her tone dripping with amusement as her fingers traced the edges of Natasha’s attire. “I’d rather think of it as inevitability, darling. You and I were always going to end up like this again. The only real question is who ends up on top this time.”
She felt the way Natasha’s body responded to her touch, the subtle shift in breath, the slight tensing beneath her fingertips. And when the Frenchwoman hooked her own finger beneath Madeline’s top, pulling her in close enough for their lips to nearly meet, Madeline didn’t falter. Didn’t blink. Didn’t yield. Instead, her smirk deepened.
“Careful, now,” she murmured, her voice a sultry whisper between them. “You do remember what happened last time you let me get this close, don’t you?”
And then, just like that, Natasha let her go, stepping back with a flourish, falling into a striker’s stance. Madeline didn’t move right away. No, she took a moment—just a breath—to study her. Natasha was dangerous. Not just for her obvious skills, but because she was precise. Explosive. A woman who could go from playful flirtation to snapping out a kick before most opponents could process the shift. Madeline knew better than to wade blindly into that kind of fire. Although the chief attraction of the H1 Climax is sex, there was plenty more the two can give to spice things up. Natasha being more of a striker, and Madeline more of a grappler. It was a classic matchup, one Madeline had encountered plenty of times before. The key to victory was simple: she could not let Natasha dictate the range.
Madeline lowered her stance, her posture shifting into something grounded, something deliberate. She wouldn’t just rush in—that would be a fool’s move, one Natasha would counter in an instant. No, she had a better idea. She baited.
Closing the distance just enough, her shoulders loose, her movement fluid, she gave Natasha the illusion of an opening—an invitation for the Frenchwoman to strike first. Madeline’s weight was set, her balance impeccable, her mind a second ahead. If Natasha bit, if she came in with a kick or a sharp jab—that’s when Madeline would pounce.
The moment the Frenchwoman extended, Madeline would slip the strike, closing the remaining distance in an instant, ducking low to snatch one of those toned legs, hooking it and driving forward to send Natasha to the mat in a beautiful single-leg takedown. And once Natasha was down? Well, that was Madeline’s domain.
In contrast to the carefully laid out plan of her British counterpart Natasha's plan was far simpler, she would make a move and then just react to whatever it was Madeline answered with. Unlike most others in the tournament Natasha knew Madeline quite well, having come away from their first encounter with both intimate knowledge of that gorgeous body and insight into how the woman's mind worked.
However the same thing was true in reverse so any attempt at forming a strategy would inevitably run into a problem, how to plan for someone who knows you'd plan? Natasha hadn't been able to come up with an answer for that question. Instead she would adapt on the fly, do what felt right, and give Madeline a taste of what a future hentai champion could do.
That would start with a quick two steps forward to get herself just within reach of the Brit where she would send her right hand shooting forward like an arrow, her hand open as it barely missed the dodging Madeline. As the dark haired woman then went low Natasha brought that same hand back down to grab onto the purple fabric which encircled Madeline's neck, slipping two fingers underneath to get herself a firm grip. With it she would yank upward while sliding her free leg back to act as a brace against the pushing Brit, putting the pair of women into a stalemate.
"Close one~" She would give the other's outfit another tug upward while trying to slip her other arm around the head of Madeline, looking to lock in a side headlock before pulling the woman back up onto her feet where she would double down on the pressure.
Madeline had expected Natasha’s approach the moment she shifted her weight forward, her toned, powerful legs springing into motion with a grace that belied the danger she carried. The English Rose had studied Natasha before, and their past encounter had provided more than enough insight into her rival’s mindset. The French beauty wasn’t one for elaborate strategies—she thrived in the moment, adapting and flowing like water, unpredictable yet undeniably effective. This was a dangerous quality, but one that could be exploited by someone who knew her.
The first strike came like an arrow, Natasha’s open palm slicing through the air just inches from where Madeline’s head had been. She had seen it, felt the intention behind it even before Natasha had fully committed, her own body reacting instinctively as she weaved to the side, slipping the blow with expert precision. But Natasha wasn’t done. The moment Madeline went low, seeking to pivot into a more advantageous position, she felt the telltale tug at her neck, the unmistakable sensation of fingers hooking beneath the magenta fabric of her top.
Cheeky.
A firm yank followed, and Madeline’s balance momentarily shifted, her posture being drawn upward just as Natasha took a step back, setting the stage for a struggle of positioning. She could feel the strength behind the hold, the way Natasha’s bare foot braced against the mat, grounding her, preparing to wrench Madeline into control with a headlock. A more straightforward fighter might have resisted the pull outright, struggling against it with brute force. But Madeline knew the moment Natasha committed both her grip and stance to the attempted control, she had also given Madeline a pathway to counter.
Instead of pulling back or pushing against Natasha’s balance, Madeline flowed with the motion, allowing the tug at her neck to bring her upward—just enough to remove the resistance Natasha had planned for. But as she rose, her right hand shot up, grasping Natasha’s wrist before the headlock could fully be cinched in, her fingers tightening around the joint like a vice. At the same time, her left hand moved to Natasha’s elbow, controlling the limb before it could snake around her neck completely. A textbook frame—a fundamental principle of Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu.
And then she acted. Rather than fight against Natasha’s natural inclination to control, she redirected it, shifting her hips and suddenly rolling her right shoulder forward. This can force Natasha’s own balance to change with her, and in that instant, Madeline would dip low once more, slipping free of the incomplete headlock while twisting Natasha’s captured wrist outward in a smooth, efficient wristlock. It wasn’t a hold meant to keep, only to disrupt.
The moment she was free, she wasted no time. With a fluid step, she closed the distance, pressing against Natasha’s back as she reached for the woman’s hips, her fingers grazing against the delicate fishnets of her opponent’s bodysuit. A proper takedown could follow if she fully committed, but Madeline wanted more than just control—she wanted to dictate the entire rhythm of this bout. Instead of a straightforward slam, she attempted to execute a tight drag, twisting Natasha just off-center before stepping around to force her into a slight stumble.
A deliberate maneuver. Not one to overpower, but to remind her rival that Madeline is an elite talent in her own right—one who could and would command the pace of this fight.
Her lips curled into a smirk as she would press just a fraction closer. “Oh, I think we both know this won’t be easy for you, darling.” Her tone was sultry, teasing, but there was an unmistakable confidence beneath it—an unspoken challenge. The English Rose was here to win, and she had no intention of making this a match Natasha could simply react her way through.
As always Madeline was proving herself to be a tough one to get ahold of for as soon as her arm began to encircle the woman's neck Madeline seized hold of the offending wrist. The shifts in Madeline's stance was easy enough for the experienced blunette to adjust to without needing to give it any thought but slipping her hand free was proving difficult, Natasha steadily applying more pressure until her fingertips were within an inch of locking in the headlock.
Almost there...Or so she thought right up until Madeline twisted her arm out to the side with a sudden pull, drawing a gasp from the Frenchwoman as pain flashed up her arm. It was a smart move on the part of the Brit, one Natasha might have used herself had she been in Madeline's boots, but if she thought control would be that easy to steal then Natasha would just have to show just how wrong she was. Which first meant reminding Madeline of the dangers of clothing.
As the woman went to drag Natasha off balance she tightened her fingers around the choker of her rival's top, nails digging into her palm with how firmly she gripped. Her arm would remain loose as Madeline forced her to lurch forward, but when she tried to slip behind her Natasha's arm would tense up, yanking upward to bring a swift halt to Madeline's movement while she spun to the side in order to face her. Natasha would then try to spin her other arm so she could grab onto Madeline's wrist in return for enough control to drag the lovely Brit into a full body grind as breasts mashed and lips came oh so close to one another.
"The hardest part right now is the wait until you're out of those lovely clothes~" Only then would she release her hold on that choker, but only so she could reach down and grab onto the back of the top instead, looking to pull back on that while she push forward with her body to drive her towards the corner.
Madeline barely had time to relish the control she’d wrested away before she felt the sudden tightening of Natasha’s grip around her choker. The pull was sharp, unexpected—not enough to choke, but more than enough to halt her momentum. A well-played move. Natasha had always been cunning, and now she was using Madeline’s attire against her, a reality that became clear as she was forced to stop mid-motion, her attempt at securing the position slipping from her grasp.
And then came the shift. Natasha twisted, pivoting to face her, her movements fluid and deliberate. Madeline barely had a moment to react before she felt the warmth of Natasha’s body pressing into hers, the Frenchwoman taking advantage of her stalled movement. Her grip was firm, fingers locking around Madeline’s wrist, forcing their bodies into a sultry entanglement. She could feel the rise and fall of Natasha’s breath, the teasing brush of their lips almost touching, and beneath it all, the underlying challenge in how Natasha held her close, taunting her with both words and touch.
Madeline felt the shift before she could entirely stop it—the steady push of Natasha’s body, the insistent tug at her top guiding her where her opponent wanted. Despite her efforts to resist, Natasha had the leverage, and within moments, Madeline’s back met the corner post, the steel frame firm against her shoulder blades. A disadvantageous position, but hardly a dire one. If Natasha thought trapping her there would make her complaint, she was about to be sorely mistaken.
Even as she settled against the turnbuckle, Madeline’s mind was already working, her instincts reacting. With Natasha pressed so close, the English Rose took advantage of the proximity, twisting at the wrist still caught in her opponent’s grip to create a sharp jolt of discomfort. She rolled her shoulder forward, shifting just enough to bring her lips teasingly close to Natasha’s ear. If she wanted to play this game, Madeline would indulge her.
“Good things come to those who wait, darling.” She purred, her voice low, sultry—distracting. “Or have you grown impatient~?” And in that exact moment, her leg moved, a subtle yet sharp attempt to snake around Natasha’s calf, aiming to hook her opponent’s footing just enough to break her stance. Not a full sweep, but a test—a warning that even against the corner, Madeline was still very much in this fight.
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