Between Snakes and Domino Pieces - Brielle Morgan VS Domino

[Afterhoursclub]

Brielle was struggling... However, exactly against "what" was a question that the heelish Brit wasn't sure how to answer...

Perhaps it was against the continuous pressure around her entire upper body, crushing her every muscle, squeezing the life out of every fiber of her being, compressing her very frame against Domino's in a battle for dominance that she was clearly losing... With her toned abdominals turning into mush under the grind against his own; her ample frontal assets mushrooming against his chiseled pecs... Her arms trapped in a tight embrace, turning her into nothing more than a prisoner into Domino's own arms.

Or perhaps... She was struggling against the fact that she was so incredibly into it. There was no denying it at this point... And much like Domino, maybe she didn't want to deny it either...
She had fought him, they had wrestled in an even contest testing each other's mettle... And now, he had her trapped... For Brielle, this was wrestling: sometimes she was on top of the world... And other times, she was being squeezed in a steaming hot bearhug...

Her head falling over his shoulder, her rapid breathing, the thick layer of sweat coating her entire body... And that faint yet unmistakable shudder in her hips while grinding against his, prompting her thighs to coil harder around his figure- all signaled at one evident fact... She was done fighting back... Her mind abandoned every survival instinct, and replaced them with something else entirely... Something completely different and primal.

Another moan escaped her lips, but this time it was low... Only for Domino to hear it. Just as he shifted his grip to get a better hold of her battered waist. Brielle with a lost look on her face.

She might not have realized the moment Domino hopped onto one leg, turning her body midair with every one of her limbs flinging like wet noodles, however she felt all too well when her back hit the canvas with a thunderous slam, having the model falling on top of her with crushing force, flattening her breasts, abs and gut all in one move.

"Aagghhh!" A low cry, and she closed her eyes... Exhausted... Entirely spent, feeling nothing more than the weight of the model resting on top of her figure... Her mouth remained wide open, trying to draw as much air as possible back into her being.

[CyanDimitrik]

That shuddered sensation, the low moan, the way her thighs gripped onto him tighter all told Domino what he had suspected: he wasn't the only one thrilling with the conclusion of their bout. Whether it was the closeness of the final moments, the tension of the struggle between them, some innate attraction, or some combination of all three, there was some unspoken understanding between their bodies that they wanted this and more.

Domino's not in the habit of leaving people unsatisfied.

She wanted everything. He's going to give her that.

While the referee-girl drops beside the pair to count what would obviously serve as a pin, Domino pulls his body up from Brielle's to break the contact. There's a firm shake of his head, softly panting, a little flushed. He picks himself up to his full height and moves behind Brielle's collapsed form, reaching low to take her by the wrists and drag her across the mat. Once he aligns her body perpendicular to a turnbuckle, he releases the wrists to let her arms drop to the mat again, specifically above her head. Specifically to leave her body stretched taut. Specifically to leave that exquisite abdomen defenseless on display.

Domino moves into the corner and climbs steadily, hauling his tired body up higher and higher, until he finds his crouched balance between the top ropes. Slowly, he lifts to his full height and raises his arms high, presenting his glistening form to the roaring, stomping crowd. The knees bend, and he launches himself high above into a double backflip - the first tight and balled, the second a more elegant rotation seeing his limbs fan out. But ultimately, the precision landing would be Brielle's stomach, crushed beneath Domino's sleek abdominals for an explosive Shooting Star finisher.

[Afterhoursclub]

Some would argue that by the time Brielle's back hit the mat, the dark-haired gal was already done for; Others, closer to the action in the front row seats would say that it was that Belly-to-Belly slam what really did it.

However.. The reality was something else entirely... With the truth only known by the two people inside the ring at that very moment... Putting each other through hell... And heaven, to conquer victory.

Brielle's mind had abandoned any form of resistance long ago, giving in to Domino's dominant embrace, the crushing bearhug that had burned down up to the last bit of fight out of her; Her every muscle... Her very being, tensing and contorting at his command... With nothing more left for her than the eventual shudder and a few faint moans that evidenced any form of fleeting consciousness on her part. The shaking on her hips, rubbing against his manhood, her chiseled abs now caving in against his own, and her breasts, pressed and flattened against his toned chest... Together with her heavy breath... All telling him that, even though her body had given up, she still reacted to everything her did to her.

The slam onto the canvas only helped to cement something that was already obvious for both of them... Or at least to Domino, who besides the referee, was the only one with a fully functional mind currently.

Brielle was left fully stretched and taut over the mat. Arms extended over her head, lacking the strength to move even a finger. Her skin, shining under the bright lights, covered by a thick layer of sweat... Her face sporting a crimson blush... And a peaceful look, as if she had nothing but accepted the inevitability of what was going to happen next...

When Domino's figure suddenly fell over her, Brielle folded completely... Her arms shot up, legs flailing wildly... She opened her mouth wide, but no sound came out of it... Her toned midsection, crushed and flattened under the weight of the model's hard-rock abdominals; with no energy to even attempt to tense her muscles or brace herself... Brielle's body had to absorb the full force of the punishing slam entirely...

Brielle's every sense shut down right at that moment, turned into nothing more than ragdoll with no conscious thought running through her mind as she served as a steaming hot mattress for the model.

[CyanDimitrik]

The audience is alive with noise, the volume pitching into a higher frenzy before hitting its crescendo at the moment of impact. One male body crashing over one defenseless female body in finalizing fashion. Her body spasms upwards, but with nowhere to go before she settles again. Domino remains solidly in place over her.

Internally, landing a splash is always a high risk maneuver, even when done perfectly. No matter how hard, no matter how firm the abdominals are, it will always be a glorified bellyflop over another human being. And the more toned and chiseled that living mattress happens to be, the rockier the landing will become by default.

Thankfully, it only ever takes one. One Shooting Star to convince the opponent's body that it's time to give in and let the struggle end. When the stomach is crushed, there's no strength to support it anymore. Just about everything connects to the core - including the ability to kick out of pins. And for all intents and purposes, the pin seems set in place already; Brielle's shoulders lie back against the mat, and Domino's body covers hers crossways.

But that's not enough. That's not what he wants. If Brielle is clinging onto consciousness, he wants her to feel herself being pinned down and dominated. That's the dance this has become, that's the allure they've found in their entanglement. She deserves to full it in full.

Domino spins around over her, bringing himself to lie face to face with her. His knees nudge her legs apart, then hook behind her calves to keep them that way. To anchor his hips firmly to hers, ensuring she feels every inch of the physical, sensual tension she's inspired from him against the base of her hips. Every squirm will be a grind in the most sensitive, enticing way - from either of them. The abs that crushed her continue lying flush over her stomach, savoring the deep warmth of skin contact and the distinct feel of her tightly toned six-pack. His chest rests heavily against her breasts, pushing tight against her corset. His hands move to her biceps and push, sliding her arms against the mat until she lies stretched out beneath him, holding her arms firmly to the mat above her head.

His head lifts to look out over the audience, a predator pinning his prey.

The referee-girl quickly drops beside the pair to begin the count.

"ONE!"

[Afterhoursclub]

It was one single fulminating maneuver, over an already finished foe. When the splash happened... when Domino's pumped-up abs came like a meteorite, crushing against hers in such a devastating and direct fashion, any slight bit of tension left was violently squeezed out of her very being... her rigid six-pack, one of her most alluring assets, turned into nothing more than jelly under the Model's hefty frame, pinning her like a nail against the canvas.

Her body spasmed wildly, having to absorb the full shock of the impact. Eyes popped wide open, mouth agape- But no sound came out of it, just a hollow wheeze from a body that barely had enough to keep functioning in any conscious sense. She came flopping back to the canvas, every limp hitting the mat with a wet THUD, as she lay there with an empty stare.

Their slick bodies clasped together in an intimate pile. Domino rolled himself up so he would be perfectly aligned with the exhausted wrestler under him. The full weight of his athletic frame was driving her deeper into the mat. His stomach flexed again against Brielle's mushed core, caving her abdominal wall in, forcing a few involuntary weak moans out of her. His chest rested comfortably over her flattened breasts. His legs hooked around hers, keeping them stretched open, pinning her hips to the canvas and forcing her to feel every little twitch and shake as he adjusted his positioning for total control. Forcing her to feel the teasing tension of that sudden bulge grinding tightly against her nether regions, a strange mixture of pain and pleasure that got lost in the void of her empty mind.

Both wrestlers were drenched in sweat after the long encounter, but only one remained with any fight left, smothering the other. Domino grabbed the Brit's arms and pulled them up, pinning them flush to the canvas above her head, making sure she was fully stretched under him.

Brielle's mind was long gone, with Domino only needing to take a glance to confirm something that was already obvious: Her blushing face, that lost stare, the warmth emanating from her wet skin while stretched taunt below him, that slow rise and fall of her chest, together with the heat of the friction between their figures...

"TWO"

The count continued, with no risk of being interrupted in the least. For what it was worth, it was a mere formality; the referee girl could have continued until sunrise, and barely anything would have changed.

"THREE!"

It was over, it had already been for a while...

[CyanDimitrik]

The referee-girl pops up to her knees and waves an arm to signal the bell!

*DING* *DING* *DING*

It was a formality, really. A ceremony. A tradition. Everyone could see that Brielle was defeated and pinned down. This wrestling match was over before the hand first struck the mat. But it's something about that ceremonial finalizing moment that inspires a subtle, but pointed celebratory movement from Domino; hips roll forward, pressing the dense firmness of his manhood against the base of her hips and brushing over the front.

He's very aware of what he's doing. He's equally aware of Brielle wanting that as much as he does. If not more. Or perhaps both are equally invested. It's difficult to think rationally through the moment, especially as every passing second spent lying over her defeated body blurs the line between professional and indulgent. His head lowers, face pressing briefly against Brielle's. Not in a kiss. But as a deep, firm sense of feeling her sweat-dampened features against his, feeling her breath, her skin.

Finally, he begins the process of peeling his body from hers. First, he presses his hands into her biceps to lift his chest slowly from the pressure against her breasts, head lifting to look out at the audience. Then, his sleek abdominals raise from her stomach. And lastly, his hips finally move back from her vulnerable center, and he detangles his limbs from hers.

Lifting to his full height, Domino lets the referee-girl take his left wrist and raise the arm into the air. His right boot raises to set lightly upon her torso, just beneath the swell of her breasts in a final display of dominance over his attractive but dangerous rival.