Leather or Lace? - Avery Merritt vs. Beast

[BlackAkuma]

Credit where it was due, Avery could take a punch. It pained Beauty to admit that, but she never ignored objective facts.

She still remembered facing Beast in their last bout before he became hers and their roles were officially established. He had fought like a demon back then, laying into with hellish punches that seemed to cut through her body, each one leaving bruises and knocking the wind clean out of her. He hadn't often, she read him well enough to avoid damage most of the time, but then, he didn’t really need to. One good punch from him was worth five of her kicks.

She wanted satisfaction from knowing what Avery was going through - and she did. Immensely. But the caveat was knowing that, as daunting as a foe as Beast could be on his best days, Beauty herself had still beaten him. He wasn’t invincible, and his current predicament only made that an indisputable fact.

He’d been down, hurting, when he exploded upwards and fired off that fearsome uppercut. It left the audience shocked, and few more than Beauty herself, surprised to see such explosive power coming from him.

She was even more surprised when Avery not only managed to take the blow, but return fire in short order. Beast was already rearing back for another blow when she launched herself forward and brought one of those thick thighs flying towards his face. Reflexes kicked in, and he could get his arms up in defense, but a block could only do so much at this range against that power. Her knee shot through and connected, clean on the chin, sending him staggering back.

He stumbled away and very well might have fallen flat if the ropes hadn't caught him and bounced him back. He was sent back towards her, shaking his head as he went, and it seemed like he’d regained his senses enough to return fire as he went - as soon as he was back in range, he lunged forward and let a hard right cross fly, aimed straight at her pretty face.

[RockRye]

Avery felt a jolt of satisfaction as her knee connected with Beast’s chin, the viscseral clank of a shuddering jawbone sending a thrill through her. But there was no time to savor it. Another awkward landing, with her planted foot struggling to steady her, left her stumbling clumsily, her arms flailing out to catch her balance. The motion sent a ripple of agony through her body, her ribs and abs screaming in protest as she stumbled and instinctively clutched her midsection. Her breathing was uneven, and the pain was relentless, forcing her to bend forward in an attempt to gather herself.

She needed to regain control, to bring this fight back into her domain. Avery thrived when she dictated the pace, when the match unfolded according to her will. This was slipping into Beast’s brutal style, and it wasn’t just hurting her. It was wearing her down.

As she began to straighten, wincing with every small movement, she barely had time to register the hulking figure barreling back toward her. It almost offended her to see him there. Her sharp instincts faltered for a split second, leaving her frozen. It was rare for anything to pierce her confident facade, but there it was, a flicker of fear and shock flashing across her face.

Beast’s massive fist came swinging in, aimed straight for her head. Avery jerked her neck at the last possible moment, her reflexes saving her from the full impact of the blow. The glancing hit still packed enough force to make her vision explode into a brief, blinding whiteness, and her equilibrium teetered dangerously. She staggered back, her legs quivering beneath her, and for a moment, it seemed she might collapse entirely.

But she didn’t. Teeth clenched and jaw tight, Avery managed to find her footing, though she swayed like a tree battered by a violent storm. Her head tilted slightly as if trying to shake off the lingering haze. But instead of retreating further, instinct and aggression took over. She lashed out wildly, her open palm snapping through the air in a reckless slap aimed at where Beast’s face should be. It wasn’t precise, but it carried enough force to demand space, to make him hesitate even for a second.

“Stop it!” she barked, her voice sharp and commanding, as if she were scolding a misbehaving dog.

[BlackAkuma]

A slugfest. Avery was holding her own against him in a slugfest.

The crowd was getting behind it now, cheering on her every strike and jeering his own, but Beast paid little attention to it, letting that noise fall over him like a wave. All of his attention was focused forward, at the woman who’d been giving him no end of trouble since this match started. Presumptuous as she was about her position, he couldn't deny that she was hanging better than she had any right to.

But he also knew all the warning signs of a body getting pushed to its brink, and his latest punch clearly pushed her to that point. It hadn't hit flush, but people often underestimated how much damage a glancing blow could do if properly thrown. While it wasn’t enough to put Avery down, it was close. Damn close.

”я понял тебя!” Beast took his chance, charging forward as she faltered. He dipped down, drew his arm to the side, and prepared to launch his Liver Blow, one of his best punches - it might not end the match straightaway, but it would surely take all the fight out of her, deflate her like a balloon.

Then came the slap.

The worst strike to take was one you didn’t see coming, and the slap qualified. It was sliced through the air and found his cheek, landing with a stinging impact that knocked his head to the side and left his ear ringing. Not too damaging by itself, no. Not physically.

Mentally, however, things were different. The moment it landed, a shock went through Beast’s system. That tone. That pain. That command. He knew it wasn’t Beauty’s voice, but Avery checked so many of the boxes that his body couldn't help but react in kind, freezing up for an agonizing second. Then two. Then three. He awkwardly stumbled forward and came out of the haze, but he knew too much time had been wasted. Now, all he could do was throw out a quick jab and hope it would be enough to put a stop to whatever Avery was coming his way with.

[RockRye]

Avery’s slap landed with a sharp, echoing crack that reverberated through the ring. It hit so hard it surprised even her, though she’d never admit it. No, of course she had expected it to hit; she never missed. But as her hand collided with his cheek, leaving a satisfying sting in her palm that was no doubt dwarfed by the burn on his face, she felt an odd mix of triumph and disbelief. Her jaw throbbed from his earlier blow, but she resisted the urge to reset it. Instead, she focused on the strange scene unfolding before her.

Beast stood frozen, the weight of her slap and her sharp, commanding words hanging heavy in the air. His pause told her everything. That tight leash Beauty supposedly had him on? It seemed Avery had yanked it from her hands, claiming the beast as her own, if only for a moment.

Her lips curled into a gleeful smirk as her confidence surged. This was her chance, her moment to strike while he was off balance in more ways than one. As he finally threw a late jab, almost out of instinct, Avery’s palm smacked it away with precision. She stepped back and then forward, her body coiling with intent and power.

Her gaze locked onto his face, her eyes alight with an almost manic glee. Her lead leg grounded her like an anchor while her other leg whipped upward, her muscular thigh curving in a powerful arc. The smooth, taut line of her kick seemed to cut through the air as she launched a rushed variation of her finisher, her Opulence, with all the force and precision she could muster in the tiny window he had afforded her, but simply shocking him with the sudden impact should serve her well enough. The definition of her powerful leg was accentuated by her momentum, her toned calf flexing just before the sole of her foot aimed directly for his face.

[BlackAkuma]

Beast wasn’t the only one time stood still for.

Beauty had been watching with ever-increasing anticipation, as her husband wheeled back and prepared to deliver the coup de grace. She could already feel the burden lifting off her shoulders - yes, this match hadn't gone anywhere near the way she wanted it to, but there was still time for a course correction. Once Avery took this punch, she would be flattened and open to anything he wanted to try, easy prey for even the most basic of submissions. It was the moment they had been waiting for.

One slap, and it was gone.

She hadn't missed his hesitation. It was impossible to not notice it. It was as if the wires in his brain malfunctioned, like he’d suffered some mental system error that ground all of his functions to a halt. It was brief, but a brief break he couldn't afford, and Beauty ground her teeth down hard as what she expected was about to occur was made into a reality.

Beast was already moving in, looking to correct his error, but Beauty could tell from her vantage point that it was too late. She could see Avery’s body moving like a coil unleashed, springing forth with a tremendous burst of speed. The muscles in her leg tightened, the swelling of her things, her body dedicated to the charge. Most of all, that look in her eyes, one she’d worn herself many times - that of a predator who’d finally caught her prey.

Avery’s leg shot out like a cannon, and Beast’s head reacted accordingly, his entire body following it down to the canvas. He landed with a sickening thud, an impact so vicious his entire body folded after the crash, before straightening out and leaving him there as a lifeless lump, staring up at the ceiling.

[RockRye]

Avery’s pump kick connected with devastating precision, the ball of her foot slamming into Beast’s face with a satisfying crack. The sound of the collision echoed, a brutal combination of her foot meeting flesh and the dull thud of his body starting to collapse under its own weight.

This time, Avery stuck the landing with an impressive grace, both feet planting firmly on the mat as she absorbed the force of the kick. She wavered for just a fleeting second, a teeter that she immediately corrected with a sharp inhale. Her eyes were already fixed on the sight of Beast crumpling. He fell, folded in half for a brief moment before his powerful frame slammed into the mat with a resonant crash, leaving him sprawled on his back, vulnerable.

Watching him fall lit a fire in Avery, a spark of sadistic satisfaction that was unmistakable in the smirk curling her lips. Her relief was audible, a heavy, almost sensuous sigh as she allowed herself a moment to savor her success. The ache in her ribs and abdomen from his earlier abuse still gnawed at her, but she pushed the pain aside. There was no time for indulgence beyond the thrill of what came next.

Adjusting her sore jaw with one hand, she let her eyes drift to Beauty, her expression a calculated mixture of challenge and amusement. Without breaking her gaze, she stepped over Beast’s prone form and lowered herself onto his chest with deliberate slowness. Avery arched her back as she descended, looking almost like an erotic dancer as her toned frame flowed. She wanted Beauty to see every detail of what was coming, a display not just of power but artistry.

Avery began her work. One leg slid behind Beast’s head, her calf cradling the back of his neck. The other leg moved with precision, folding over the opposite foot to form the perfect figure-four shape. Her thighs flexed, muscles rippling visibly as she crafted the cage that would soon become his prison. Her body language was predatory, her focus unshakable.

Even as she locked in the position, her gaze remained fixed on Beauty, daring her to intervene, mocking her impotence in the moment. Avery’s hand found Beast’s hair, yanking it forward with enough force to slam his chin, nose, and lips against her crotch. She leaned back, positioning herself for maximum leverage, and her thighs flared with power as she began to squeeze.

Her entire body seemed to come alive as she poured herself into the hold, her legs tightening rhythmically, muscles rippling under the strain.

[BlackAkuma]

Beast had been knocked unconscious.

It was brief. So brief that he doubted that anyone, even the referee, would’ve noticed, not that it would’ve mattered with the match’s stipulations. But he found himself on the floor, staring up at the lights, blinking rapidly as he came back to the waking world. Right now, there was only one question on his mind - what had just happened.

He groaned and writhed on the floor as his memories came back. Avery. The match. The slugfest. The two of them had been trading shots, punches against kicks, with the match itself hanging in the balance. He’d taken a slap, and that had been enough to upset his rhythm, long enough for her to capitalize, and-

The kick. That kick. He remembered a flash of it, a white blur heading towards his face like a freight train, and then…poof. Out.

He needed to get up. Now. He started to lift up when he felt a solid weight press against his chest and drive him back down. Sure enough, he looked up to see Avery’s shimmering visage staring back at him with that knowing gaze. It didn't take a fortune teller to guess what came next.

”No-”

Yes. There was no stopping it, as Avery’s legs wrapped around his skull and engulfed it with hardened flesh, pressing into his skull, pounding away at his bone, compressing his eardrums. The crowd was muffled under her flesh, leaving him with nothing but the rush of blood to listen to. That, and his involuntary groans.

He squirmed. He kicked. Most importantly, however, he tapped, his hands smacking her thighs in a vain plea for mercy, one that only lasted for a few seconds before the life began to fade from his body once again.

[RockRye]

Having Beast’s face buried so intimately against her crotch, his breaths hot and shallow against her and the grunts sending vibrations through her core, sent a wave of satisfaction coursing through Avery’s body. The sight of his struggling as her toned thighs coiled like steel around his neck and head was a vision of mastery. Her thighs, long and sculpted, flexed with every subtle adjustment, the definition rippling beneath her smooth skin.

Avery's head tilted slightly as she glanced between the trapped Beast and Beauty, who glowered nearby. A slow, satisfied sigh escaped her lips, her manicured fingers brushing lazily over her chest as though savoring the victory twice over. "He’s quite the pleaser, isn’t he?" she remarked to Beauty, her voice carrying a mock sweetness that only amplified the insult.

The feel of Beast’s desperate tapping on her thighs interrupted her musings, drawing a quiet, throaty moan of genuine pleasure from Avery. It wasn’t the physical contact that thrilled her, though the sensation of him writhing against her added a certain flair. No, the real delight came from the tableau she had crafted: Beauty’s fury simmering nearby, her favorite toy being so utterly dominated and publicly humiliated. Avery wanted to indulge in the power of this moment.

The referee’s voice echoed across the arena, declaring her three-to-one lead, but Avery wasn’t satisfied just yet. She kept the hold locked in, her thighs tightening like a vice, until Beast’s struggling began to weaken and his movements turned sluggish. The faint haze of unconsciousness shadowed his face, and only then did she slowly uncoil her legs, allowing him just enough air to revive.

She stretched her legs outward gracefully before snapping them back around his head, locking in her grip once more. This time, instead of exerting continuous force, she began to pulse her thighs rhythmically. Each squeeze sent a jolt of pain through his body, her thighs tensing into stark relief with every contraction. The pulses came intermittently, lulling him into brief moments of reprieve before the crushing power returned. Avery’s sharp blue eyes lingered on her own thighs as they worked, a flicker of fascination crossing her features as she admired the effortless way they controlled him.

"Now," she cooed, her voice dripping with sensual dominance, "I do have you leashed. And if you’re a good little Beast and tell her that—" she glanced at Beauty with a sly grin, "I’ll give you pleasure instead of pain."

Her voice was low and sultry, the kind of promise that teased at hope while dangling the threat of more punishment. "Now," she repeated, attempting to command him as she inadvertently had earlier.

[BlackAkuma]

Beauty looked on with a mix of horror, rage, and utter revulsion as Beast - her slave, her husband - had her face buried deep in her crotch, sinking deeper and deeper between her folds, his face buried under her flesh. She suspected this was as close to a true out-of-body experience as possible. How many times had she had Beat in the absolute same situation? How many late nights had they spent together, with his skull between her legs, begging her for release?

Dozens. Hundreds. It was one of her most treasured privileges, and here was this usurper, stealing the pleasure: her face to smother, her body to break, her mind to twist.

It would have been infuriating if she were watching this at home, but being present, with this jackal in the ring smiling back at her as she laid claim to her property, brought a transcendental fury to her blood and set it to boiling.

She was going to ruin this bitch. She didn’t yet know how or when, but it was going to happen.

Another tap, another small victory for Avery, undoubtedly sealing her victory, a hole that Beast couldn't dream of crawling out of with the meager time they had left. For most wrestlers, that would’ve been enough, and they could cost through the rest of the match, but Beauty already knew it wouldn’t be enough for the blonde - after all, it wouldn’t be enough for her, either.

So it was no surprise when Avery not only proceeded to hold him her legs, but made Beast’s situation exponentially worse. The constant pressure was one thing, but she knew how to drag things out, continually pulsing her thighs, pounding his skull. Veins were popping out of Beast’s forehead, his eyes were growing hazy, and she could tell he was floating in and out of consciousness. He probably didn’t even know he was in a match anymore.

With all that in mind, she shouldn’t have been too shocked by what happened next, perhaps even understanding. Yet, as it happened, she couldn't quite muster the sympathy.

”I…” She couldn't hear what Avery said to prompt him, but she heard his response clearly enough, even over the crowd’s din. ”You have me leashed.”

Avery was going to bleed for this.

[RockRye]

Avery’s lips curled into a sly, self-satisfied smirk as she watched the torture unfold, and not Beast's torture. The image of Beauty’s face, twisted into a volatile cocktail, was almost too perfect. If only she had a camera to immortalize this moment, or better yet, a mic to rub salt into the wound. Still, there was something undeniably alluring about keeping this intimate, letting the exchange play out as an unspoken understanding shared only between the three of them. Avery reveled in the opportunity to impose her will over Beast, using him as a proxy to strip Beauty of power and control for her own entertainment. It wasn't just about subduing Beast physically, not anymore; Avery wanted to undermine the woman on the sidelines as eagerly as she punished her boy-toy.

Beast lay trapped beneath her, crushed between her legs that flexed and rippled with powerful musculature. The rhythmic pulsing of her thighs was mesmerizing, the way her quads swelled and contracted with each calculated squeeze. Every pulse drove him to the edge of oblivion, only for her to release the pressure just enough to drag him back to reality. Every labored gasp of air was punctuated by her control. All the while, Avery’s hand moved with deceptive tenderness, her fingers trailing through Beast’s sweat-dampened hair, the gesture almost motherly in its mock affection.

Then she heard it: his surrender. The words slipped from his lips like a confession, broken and resigned. It sent a thrill down her spine, and her delighted cackle echoed in the space between them, filling the ring with the sound of her triumph.

True to her word, she eased the crushing grip of her thighs, allowing him a brief, fleeting taste of relief. But before he could fully recover, she shifted forward. With an almost mechanical precision, she adjusted the already-snug bottom of her leotard. The fabric pulled sharply, wedging into her toned, muscular frame, leaving little more than a strip separating her from an entirely bare bottom. She began impressing her thick, sweaty hips downward until her heavy backside engulfed his face entirely. Her curves, glistening from the exertion of the match, bore down on him.

"This," she said, her voice now sultry and teasing as she shifted slightly to settle her weight, "is a pleasure reserved for the rare few who earn it. You should be honored, my new toy."