Victory Conditions: Win by accepting your opponent's verbal submission, after forcing an orgasm
No Disqualifications
Deep within the confines of the locker room, the smell of iron wafted into Damien Pyre's nostrils. It always came to him before a fight, that phantom trace of blood in the air, sharp and familiar, settling his nerves instead of stirring them. His breath came deep and measured, fogging the cracked mirror in front of him. Sweat already clung to his skin, not from exertion, but anticipation and pure excitement.
After the spectacle he had delivered in his debut, someone in charge had decided it was time to see what happened when the leash came off. And they couldn't have chosen a better offering than tonight's stipulations, not to mention the cute little red head that came along with it. A hardcore verbal submission match meant there would be no ambiguity about how this would end. Someone would speak the words, voice cracking or breaking or begging, and only one of them would decide when to let go. Damien had no doubts in mind as to who that person would be. The thought alone was enough to get him salivating like a rabid dog, already envision the night of torture and punishment he had in store for the poor opponent who'd be sharing the ring with him. “This is what you wanted,” he muttered to his reflection, voice low and rough. “This is what you need.”
The distant thud of bass rolled through the walls as his music cue hit. Damien exhaled through his nose and reached for his jacket. The leather slid over his shoulders, spiked collar catching the light as he adjusted it into place. He didn’t rush, there was no need. Hell, after all, always arrived right on time.
Entrance Theme: Avenged Sevenfold - Shepherd Of Fire
Damien Pyre Entrance Gear

At ringside, Damien slowed, taking in the scene. He placed a hand on the apron and hauled himself up with ease, climbing all the way to the top turnbuckle. He turned to face the crowd, chest rising with a deep breath as flames roared behind him once more. Fingers extended into devil horns, he held the pose for a moment, soaking in the heat, the noise, the expectation, before the fire and music slowly died down. He discarded his jacket and hopped down to the canvas, making his way to his corner of the ring.
Damien Wrestling Gear


