Here Be Monsters: Fran Douglas (D) vs Katsumi Oshiro

[CyanDimitrik]

That involuntary yelp was practically musical to Katsumi. Their combined bodies hit the mat hard, and though neither girl weighs much, the testament to the impact is the rattling of the ropes and their connected metallic links, the way their bodies rebound together briefly off the mat before settling. Sure, that didn't exactly feel great on her forearms, but God was that additional impact-driven squeeze so delicious to her spiteful heart.

It's not enough, though.

Fran belittled her. Disrespected her, in her moment. Tried to steal from her. She wants her humiliated.

So with Fran lying flat on her back, her head tilted with clear, pained grimace, Katsumi positions herself against her. She slides her body over her a little further, enough to align her hips against the other girls, belly-to-belly, the curvature of her chest pressing tight into Fran's breasts. Her right hand grabs onto the blonde's left bicep to push the limb down to the mat securely, while she pushes Fran's face to the side from the left, her wrist pressing firmly into her cheek to turn her face away to the audience.

It's a clearly provocative pin, designed to assert dominance over the other girl. And after the punishing blow she just endured, it might work. But whether it does or doesn't isn't necessarily the point. Katsumi wants her to know she's beneath her. She wants her to know she's being dominated tonight on her debut. That her body belongs to her in this ring; a jungle cat asserting her territorial claim over a challenger. It wouldn't take too much for Fran to raise her right shoulder to break the pin on a technical basis, but this audience gets to see the new girl held down like this for however long the pin lasts.

Katsumi's head lowers, bringing her lips closer to the girl's conveniently close ear to murmur: "You really thought you had something special, huh?"

[3ho]

Chsk!

Fran knew that sound. She absolutely loathed what was coming out of this. See, West Coast Wrestling was smalltime compared to LAW. That's why Fran new she wasn't going to remain there and instead opt for a bigger league with all the recognition she could want. Some matches at WCW might have had a photographer to take snaps for Instagram or their website to draw up hype for a particular match. Action shots to help entice the viewer to the action or paint a certain narrative. Honestly at this point, Fran hardly noticed the sound out in public due to paparazzi, but when she wrestled, she absolutely heard it.

All because she knew what they sold from a match. A vicious submission hold that would seal the victory or the debut of a beloved starlet pinned on the mat with her opponent laying on top of her. No prizes for guessing which image would be on the LAW socials tomorrow.

"ONE!"

Fran was certainly feeling the weight of her opponent on her. Head turned to the side with a casual wrist pressing her cheek down was a particularly shameful touch as the blonde had her eyes closed and mouth hanging open. Chest to chest, hips to hips... This was certainly a way to make a statement and mentally, Fran knew it.

"TWO!"

A sudden right arm shoot up, lifting the blonde's shoulder off of the mat. "Nooo!" She uttered, her eyes snapping open as she came to life under Katsumi. Her right shoulder remained up as she tried turning herself over onto a side but merely pushed against the weight bearing down on her for now. At least her shoulder was off the mat, and she wasn't going to go down instantly but it was too close.

Then the icing came: "You really thought you had something special, huh?"

No, Fran was not going to be the debut star that gets squashed in her first match. She knew she could make this work; it was a matter of hanging in there! "Shut it!" Fran snapped, her hands lifting to grip into her opponent's sides, pushing as if she could throw Katsumi upwards off of her... if only...

[CyanDimitrik]

Each beat of the hand against the mat made Katsumi a little happier about the whole ordeal. Each one felt a smidge closer to vindication. But she already knew that she wasn't going to truly be satisfied until Fran's battered and beaten body lie helpless beneath hers. And the ultimate intention? Not only to beat her, but to make sure before she rolled out of the ring tonight, she knew Katsumi could pin her down for however long she felt like.

That would feel like vindication. A proper humbling. A solid establishing of the pecking order.

The cameras flash like glitter around the ring, immortalizing the moment for future onlookers to marvel upon. ..Or whatever they might do with the image. The Punk Princess determinedly does not think about it too much. Her only investment is that moments like these live forever.

The shoulder suddenly lifts from the mat! It doesn't upset the balance of the pin, but it technically means the pin is incomplete. Katsumi feels the other girl's hands move to her bare waist, a struggle to bodily lift her off of her. But Katsumi responds by spreading her knees against the mat a little further to insistently press herself over the other girl's pinned body.

"What, can't make me? Gotta resort to askin'?," Katsumi replies, her tone airy and coy. Of course she knew it was meant as a demand. A little reframing couldn't hurt. ...Couldn't hurt Katsumi, anyway.

"Alright. I'm not done with you yet anyway!"

She lifts herself off of Fran at the stomach and hips first before leaning back and pulling, one hand on her arm, the other hand slipping to the nape of her neck to guide the blonde along for the ride. But upon standing, the intention is to keep the upper-hand. Just enough space is created between them to present enough of a momentum-granting gap, then a sudden thrust forward as Katsumi attempts to blast her knee hard into the pit of her stomach.

[3ho]

There it was again.

That insufferable tone. Putting on on airs that she was better when evidence to the contrary was moments before. Fran had Katsumi reeling in the initial bout, she just couldn't clinch and one slam off the top rope and suddenly this pomp'd up punk thought she was better than everyone. Better than Fran.

That was not how this was going to go. As air cycled back into system, Fran's breathing slowed to a point where her stomach no longer beat against the bared midsection of her opponent. She was mostly fine but allowed herself to continue to play the weakened wrestler as ginger hands gripped Fran on the nape and the other continuing to clench her arm. Compliance for now would allow her to strike seeing as she was still on her back with her opponent looming over her.

Up Fran went to her feet. She had it planned. She needed to snap back at Katsumi's mouth first and then she'd probably surprise her opponent with a side-to-belly suplex. A nasty soccer kick to the back and then Katsumi would really find out how Fran was going to make her. Make her do what now? Well first would be shutting up.

Fran started to straighten as they parted, eyes firing up as she met Katsumi's. "Guess whaa-oooough!

Right in the stomach. Right in the middle of a word. Katsumi sliced in with her knee to end that clap back before it began and at a moment when the diaphragm was pushing out the syllables. The knee pushed rest of the air out and the effect was immediate. Fran's torso was thrown forward at the waist right in front of her opponent. Ther perpendicular position had brought the blonde's head past Katsumi while her back laid presented to the raven-haired woman. Her gloved hands immediately latched onto what they could. Her left clutching her stomach around the impact site and her right hand slid down Katsumi's stomach until desperate fingers found her belt and gripped to prevent herself from falling down to the mat again.

Finally, a gasp as Fran coughed, still alive but certainly shocked into a state of exposure.

[CyanDimitrik]

"Mnh." A satisfied little throaty sound as Katsumi's knee buries deep into Fran's unprotected stomach.

She's always had this philosophy in the ring. People go for arms, they go for legs, they go for smothers, all that jazz. But Katsumi, she likes the stomach. So many muscle groups require the abdominal region to support them. Lift someone up? Abs are involved. Sit up? Abs needed. Kick out of a pin? Abs needed. Nevermind that she's developed and grudgingly accepted that she kind've has a thing for girl's midriffs, annihilating the stomach is deeply satisfying. And when it's with a girl she really wants to take down, it's delectable.

Her foot sets to the mat again. Her hands remain upon Fran's frame, one hand behind her neck, the other still holding the bicep of the arm now wrapping her stomach. She doesn't shy back from the other girl's hand running down her belly before finding her belt, reveling in the helpless reeling on display.

"What was that?," she mocks. "Were you about to drop some killer line on me?"

The hand moves from her neck to beneath her chin, pulling to point Fran's eyes up at her. Blue eyes on greens, narrowed and piercing through silky blueblack bangs. "Got a better idea."

Yanking more firmly, Katsumi manhandles the blonde to spin her around and face away from her, upright. Her left leg hooks over Fran's, Katsumi's thigh wrapping hers. She ducks her upper-body beneath Fran's right arm, and reaches her left arm behind Fran's neck and along her shoulders. Her right hand presses alongside Fran's hip as a stabilizing point.

With all the pieces in place, Katsumi suddenly jerks herself upright and twists, wrenching Fran's spine into a sideways angle and backwards. She sinks into the position and twists her waist against Fran's back, leveraging more and more pressure steadily along the debutante's right side, and soon creating a cascading ripple of pain racing through her abdominal region as a whole.

"How about you scream it for me instead!?"

[3ho]

There was probably an episode of her television show like this. The heroine doubled over with the dark clad vampire standing over her, thinking she had won only for the heroine to pull something like a wooden stake out and stab the vampire through the heart. Fran would have liked to have said that happened here but she had no wooden stake to stab Katsumi with. Also the script typically foregone the whole, catching your breath thing after getting a knee rammed into your stomach. That was never in the show.

Ugh. More mocking.

You know Fran had a killer line to drop, too. She just need like ten seconds but that's one that she'll have to pay Katsumi back for. Honestly, she was beginning to loathe the person she picked a fight with. Did she come to realize it was a mistake? Fran's eyes were half lidden by the time she was brought to meet her opponent's. Though she looked out of it, her eyes narrowed back. The chance to upset Kat was not a mistake but well, this next thing might have started to weave in just a little doubt.

Half spun, Fran would have maybe kept going had Katsumi not caught her and pulled her back in. Left over left, Fran feels Kat's thigh press against hers to keep in place. The blonde was still a bit stunned but she wasn't sure what her opponent was doing, snaking around her until her opponent's waist started to press in, the whole form now causing a twist of her spine and a stretch of abdominal muscles. No wonder they called it that.

Fran immediately broke as the hold locked in. "Aaahuh!" She bellowed, her whole body tensing as her opponent wretched and yanked on the hold.

[CyanDimitrik]

The dark abyss of the audience may as well have been a galaxy of stars twinkling, their cameras flashing anew. But to add more to it, that well of faceless shadows is riotous with voices cheering the spectacle. Cheering at the sight of the two young women wrestling tangled together. Cheering at the expertise with which Katsumi wraps herself around Fran. Cheering at the pained cry from the newcomer. This is what they paid to see. This is what they wanted tonight. And at the moment, their enjoyment is coming at the expense of the debutante.

Katsumi gives an open smirk out at the crowd, confident and in control. Her slender body coiled around Fran's like ivy, contorting the other girl painfully for their viewing pleasure. To slake her pride. To right a wrong committed against her and bring the universe back into balance - or that's how she'd see it, anyway. But what she's enjoying most in this moment is that sound - the sound of Fran's voice strained in the steady increase of pain in the hold.

Katsumi's left arm settles more snugly along Fran's bare shoulders, her hand setting over the shoulder to act like a point of leverage. All the better to force her captive's upper-body into each newly achieved, additional degree of twisting agony. And Katsumi settles into a rhythm with her; her midsection pushes into Fran's lower back, her shoulders twisting to force the stretch tighter, to strain Fran's midsection and waist to its limits before easing back again to let her take a breath. But that breath is only meant to be fuel for screams, the motion repeating with a new twisting, wrenching churn. The rhythm is rolling, steady, each pass sinking deeper into the hold before finally reaching a certain deep, punching angle that presents poor Fran's midsection and chest out at the audience in an extremely taut angle.

The gloved hand at Fran's hip slides in, easing her fingertips along the other girl's skin, passing along whatever taut muscletone may be popping against her belly in that position. Her palm hovers over the center of her midsection, her thumb poised off to one side of her navel, the other four fingers on the opposite. Feeling like she's isolated the abdominal cluster, she suddenly presses in and squeezes against the abs in a stomach claw, taking full advantage of her inability to curl up or tighten the midsection!