First Bell, First Clue? - Laxia(D) vs. Bandita

[Letta]

Through the haze clouding Laxia’s vision, she caught sight of Bandita rolling with feline grace while Laxia remained curled on her side, clutching at her chest and stomach. The luchadora approached on all fours, seized Laxia by the shoulder, and firmly rolled her onto her back. Even while handling a body considerably larger than her own, there was not the slightest hesitation in her touch. Both of Laxia’s shoulders met the mat. The arm that had been soothing her aching chest was soon caught by Bandita and swept aside. Thump -

The strengthless limb fell limply against the canvas, leaving Laxia’s impact-reddened chest completely exposed. The arm protecting her stomach soon met the same fate. Once Bandita caught her wrist and moved it aside, nothing remained to shield Laxia’s body. A faint flush colored her bare abdomen as it rose and fell with every labored breath, the subtle lines of her abs briefly emerging whenever she exhaled. Squinting against the arena’s bright lights, Laxia released ragged breaths through slightly parted lips. Her shoulders rested against the canvas, while both arms lay scattered helplessly at her sides. For that brief moment, she was utterly defenseless. Bandita’s intentions could not have been clearer. As the luchadora climbed across her body, Laxia’s blue eyes wavered faintly. Then Bandita’s bare stomach finally settled across her own. The luchadora’s tightly tensed abs stretched over Laxia’s abdomen, which had yet to recover from the impact. Before the warmth of their touching skin could fully register, Laxia felt the firm, unwavering pressure bearing down on her.

“Ugh……!”

Her waist twitched reflexively. It was a strange sensation. A luchadora smaller than herself now lay across her body, keeping both of her shoulders pinned to the mat. There could be no mistaking which woman was controlling the other. The fact clawed viciously at Laxia’s pride. What rested upon her stomach was more than mere body weight. It felt as though Bandita’s hard-earned strength, together with her determination to maintain control, was pressing Laxia into the canvas. And yet, the tense abdominal muscles pressed against her own were…… not nearly as unpleasant as she had expected. Each time Laxia drew a ragged breath, her stomach expanded faintly beneath Bandita, only for that small movement to be immediately checked by the body above her. Through their bare skin, the warmth of their bodies and the tension held within their muscles passed freely between them.

Being completely overpowered and feeling her opponent’s body from this close were sensations that proved strangely difficult to separate. Then Laxia became even more keenly aware of her own body reacting beneath Bandita than she was of the woman restraining her. Whenever she tried to exert herself, the faint definition of her muscles briefly drew taut. But when she realized that even those tiny reactions must be transmitting directly into Bandita, it suddenly felt as though the body that normally obeyed her will so faithfully had become far too honest. How hard she was breathing. How desperately she was trying to summon her strength. And how quickly that resistance kept fading away.. With nothing but their bodies pressed together, the luchadora could surely feel all of it. It was humiliating. And yet, the sensation remained strangely vivid, almost thrilling. What am I thinking……?!

Laxia clenched her teeth as though she could drive the confusion from her mind. This was no time to be dwelling on sensations like these. She had to escape the pin. I have to get out……! It could not end like this. Not yet. Even now, Laxia refused to lie still beneath her. She jerked her shoulders and twisted at the waist, raising one whenever the other touched the mat. Whenever Bandita forced her back down, Laxia shifted her legs and tried to change the angle of her body. The referee crouched beside them, carefully watching the line of Laxia’s shoulders, but she had yet to begin the count. Both shoulders simply refused to remain flat against the mat for long enough. Each attempt to gather her strength sent a dull ache spreading from deep within her stomach. Laxia’s body tensed and briefly pushed up against Bandita, but her resistance never lasted. Her strength soon drained away, lowering her back toward the canvas, and Bandita remained close enough to capitalize on every opening.

Each time Laxia tried to push her away, Bandita absorbed the movement and pressed back down. Even in that brief contest between their closely joined bodies, the advantage belonged to the luchadora. Then an unwanted question slipped into Laxia’s thoughts. Does she feel the same thing I do..? Could she feel Laxia moving beneath her with every ragged breath, tensing and relaxing again and again beneath the pressure? Was Bandita just as keenly aware of her body as Laxia was of hers? The moment her thoughts wandered that far, Laxia hurriedly furrowed her brow. This was hardly the time to wonder about such things. Then she felt Bandita seize her thigh and pull it into the air. “Wha……!”

As one leg folded deeply alongside Bandita’s waist, Laxia’s hips lifted from the canvas and her weight shifted toward her upper body. The freedom she had used to twist her lower half vanished in an instant, forcing both shoulders firmly against the mat. This time was different. Even when Laxia tried to turn, the position held. Bandita’s arm cinched tightly around her raised leg, while the luchadora’s widely spread stance anchored the pin without the slightest wobble. The hold was finally complete. Only then did the referee raise her hand.

“ONE...!”

The first count struck the mat beside Laxia’s head, its vibration traveling beneath her back and through her entire body. The tips of her orange-red hair trembled where they lay scattered across the canvas. Laxia’s eyes snapped open. She tried twisting again. One arm pressed against the mat, but the trapped leg prevented her from creating enough leverage, and she was forced back down. The referee’s hand rose once more. Laxia’s blue eyes followed it upward.

“TWO....!!”

The instant the second count struck the canvas, Laxia poured everything she had left into one desperate effort. She drove her free leg against the mat while planting one palm beside her and violently twisting her body to the side. “Nh……!” The leg hooked by Bandita made the movement sluggish, but Laxia straightened her supporting arm and pushed against the canvas with everything she had. At last, her body tipped sideways and one shoulder broke clearly away from the mat. The referee’s hand froze in midair. The third count never came. Despite escaping the pin, Laxia could not rise immediately. She rolled onto her side and propped herself up on one elbow, drawing harsh breaths through the tangled curtain of her orange hair. “Haah…… hah…….” Her shoulders rose and fell heavily, and strength had yet to fully return to her battered body. Laxia drew in another ragged breath.

“Surely you weren’t planning…… to end our dance so soon..?”

[CyanDimitrik]

Every time Bandita settled into Laxia's body, the ginger had arched, jerked, and struggled. Not enough to break free, of course. But it was noticeable. The whole thing felt like it took several minutes, when in reality, only a few seconds had passed. Did Bandita feel it? The same thing Laxia was feeling? Without a doubt. She'd pinned many girls this way, especially after executing the Heist of the Century. She was comfortably familiar with the sensation of foreign skin pressed beneath her, ranging between soft and untrained midsections to chiseled and sleek six-packed abdominals. This particular stomach is somewhere in the middle - a fact that's blaring in her mind right now. Every breath shared between them invites a rhythmic push, a flex. Especially when she seizes that leg and tucks her body in tighter to herself.

Why does it stand out so much? Why is this one unique? Because this girl is remarkably pretty, and dresses like a fantasy come to life, in a professional wrestling setting. She hits all of the right notes in the fluttery song Bandita didn't even know she was playing. The theatricality of just how refined she looks, the big, expressive eyes, the slender body, and now, feeling her smooth stomach and the subtly firm press of abdominal muscles beneath her - it's all extremely distracting. So with each count, Bandita has allowed herself to simply... sink into the moment. No one else has to know she's enjoying wrestling with this girl more than on a competitive level. No doubt the ginger thinks of her as a kid, anyway! So-- no need to muddy things.

She feels the tension in Laxia's flexing stomach first and foremost. That's where the strength to kick out comes from, or at least is connected to; the core! And that's the first large signal that Laxia is about to work her shoulder up off the mat. So when the referee suddenly rears back and waves a pair of deuces to signal to the audience and timekeeper, she's not surprised. Not in any small part because Laxia manages to roll her waist beneath Bandita's pressing midsection.

"Shoulder's up! Two-count!"

Bandita's hold on Laxia's leg has naturally become fuddled with the rotation. When forced with the decision to either try to keep ahold of her leg and be rolled forward with her, or let it loosen, she opted for the safer approach and went with the latter. Bandita's upper-body balance remained braced on her elbow against the mat, while the other hand now rests against Laxia's outer thigh. She rests against her waist for a few seconds, listening to the other woman's voice.

Which earns a smile. She's so classy, even when being roughed up. ..ayy, no swooning!

She pushes herself up onto her knees to look down at her again with a bright smile, giving Laxia enough room to properly prop herself on an elbow. "Wouldn't dream of it!," she chirps, her voice perky. It would've been nice to pin her there, but a part of her is excited that she didn't. Every second Laxia hangs on, the more she gets to be impressed with her. Her endurance, her determination, her pluck. All the things one wouldn't expect of a refined, beautiful aristocrat, especially in such a physical setting.

..no swooning!

Her smile had, unknowingly to her, shifted into something encouraging and earnest. Less playful, more genuinely admiring.

Suddenly, Bandita sets a hand behind her shoulder, the other hand over her waist to roll her over facedown on the mat. No distractions! She has a match to wrestle and, most importantly, win! She's not the only person relying on her, here! There's more at stake than her pure love of the sport and fascination with her opponent!

The luchadora throws herself down over Laxia's back, at first laying over her; her hips pressed to the noble's backside as an anchor, the soft yield of her breasts behind her shoulders, her hands seizing upon her biceps. She leans upwards, bringing her lips closer to Laxia's ear. Every exhale is a soft wave of warmth against her skin as she whispers:

"We can't end it without doing 'de big lift finale, can we?"

Just as quickly, the luchadora is pushing off of her to stand. With precise, practiced steps, Bandita plants her right foot over Laxia's right thigh just above the knee joint. Leaning down, the gathers up Laxia's right shin to fold back and hook the ankle over her shin. Then the left foot to mirror on the left thigh, similarly restraining Laxia's leg by twining the ankle over her shin again. Still bent over, the Latina issues a single, sharp slap against the slope of her waist at either side, all to prompt her arms to shoot back instinctively in defense. The arms, of course, which are seized at the wrists.

She begins rocking with her captive, rolling Laxia's balance from belly to hips, then forward to chest, then back to hips...

"It's usually 'de boys doing 'de lifting. But you'll forgive me for doing 'de honors, princesa?"

Forward to chest again, then at last, a smooth, full rotation past the hips to transferring Bandita onto her back! Arms and legs reaching into the air, forcing Laxia's arms to be fully outstretched backwards, the soles of her boots pressed into the girl's thighs and forcing the fulcrum of pressure to focus at the base of her spine, the romero special submission holds is a multi-faceted terror of stretching and strain - the arms hyper-extended backwards, the spine arched with her full weight on that singular point. The smooth muscletone along Bandita's arms and legs are flexed to support the other girl's weight and maintain control, presenting Laxia's outstretched body to the skylights.

The sea of darkness surrounding the ring speckles in flickering, starry pinpoints as cameras flash and immortalize the moment. The referee-girl quickly drops to her knees closer to Laxia's face. Knowing full well that the noble can't physically tap out in this position, she asks, "Do you submit!?"

[Letta]

Having barely lifted her shoulder before the referee could complete the three-count, Laxia released a ragged breath. Bandita made no attempt to force the broken pin back into place. She remained resting against Laxia’s waist for a moment, seemingly catching her breath, before pushing herself upright onto her knees. Then she looked down at Laxia with that same radiant smile once again. There is that smile again... Laxia did not dislike that smile. The problem was that she found herself incapable of disliking it. We entered this merciless ring to defeat one another...! Of course, professional wrestling had room for friendly competition and exhibitions fought in good faith.

Yet in every woman-against-woman match Laxia had witnessed, there had always been a silent battle of pride beneath the surface. Even women who carried themselves with elegance and composure outside the ring often became embroiled in desperate struggles the moment the bell rang, grabbing handfuls of hair and striking each other across the face. In the end, one woman would establish her superiority over the other. Just like the pin moments ago, one would be left lying on her back while the other pressed herself over her, proving her physical dominance and remaining above her as the victor. That was competition as Laxia understood it.

But Bandita was a little different. Despite the severity of the techniques they had exchanged, a sense of admiration and respect still remained between them. Laxia had never encountered an opponent who treated her quite like this before. The provocative, passionate lead of the luchadora. She could be as sweet and gentle as the hand she had warmly clasped before the match, yet as sharp and spicy as the chop she had cracked across Laxia’s chest. It was as though waves of cool water and searing heat were washing over her in turns. Bandita would approach her with tenderness, only to attack without mercy. The moment she coaxed the tension from Laxia’s body, she would immediately begin driving her into another perilous situation. Laxia was unaccustomed to such a push and pull. In truth, the noblewoman was unaccustomed to being so thoroughly swept along by anyone. Least of all by a woman younger and considerably smaller than herself.

Laxia had always been the one who led. She gave the orders, and others obeyed. She had encountered countless rude men who lectured her as though they understood the world better than she did, but never once had she willingly surrendered control to any of them. And yet now... Could some part of me have always wanted someone else to take the lead...? Why was she feeling such a thing? And why here, of all places, in the middle of this ring? Without realizing it, Laxia found herself growing increasingly drawn to Bandita. The luchadora continued to throw her heart into disarray. Wearing such a warm, sweet smile while never hesitating to unleash attacks as fierce and breath-stealing as the shoulder thrusts that had driven deep into Laxia’s abdomen moments earlier, like a spicy jalapeño. Earlier, Laxia had called her chiquita. But Bandita no longer felt like a mere girl to her. Her boldness. Her flamboyance... And her undeniable skill.

Bandita possessed far too much charisma to be dismissed as nothing more than a young competitor. She could command an entire audience, and even her opponent Laxia was not entirely immune to that powerful influence. Perhaps it was because of the peculiar nature of professional wrestling. A contest in which two people could legally collide with one another, entangle their bodies, and determine who stood above the other. This might have been Laxia’s debut, but Bandita was unlike the conventional image of a professional wrestler she had formed in her mind. Even compared to the countless training partners she had faced while preparing for this day, the luchadora was unmistakably special. Dazzling color and vitality. Eye-catching flamboyance. Blazing passion and an uninhibited energy. And a fighting spirit that made Laxia wonder what new colors Bandita might reveal if she continued meeting her with everything she had. But this was no time to lose herself in such thoughts. As Bandita began preparing her next technique, the emotions clouding Laxia’s mind sank into the background once again.

The luchadora placed one hand behind Laxia’s shoulder and the other against her waist, rolling her facedown onto the canvas. Bandita then lowered herself over Laxia’s back, pressing her hips firmly against the noblewoman’s backside. At the same time, Laxia felt a soft pressure settle behind her shoulders. Once again, Bandita’s lips moved close to her ear. Warm breath brushed against her skin with a ticklish caress, and a faint blush unknowingly spread across Laxia’s cheeks. “We can’t end it without doing ’de big lift finale, can we?”

Ugh...! You could simply say it loudly enough for everyone to hear...! She was doing this deliberately. What a shameless tease..! And she dares to toy with me...! But another word caught Laxia’s attention first. A lift. Did Bandita intend to pick her up? If so, Laxia had no intention of allowing it without resistance. She was an accomplished strategist. Should Bandita dare attempt to lift an opponent larger and heavier than herself in a conventional manner, Laxia could exploit that moment to surprise her with a hurricanrana, or any one of the numerous counters already racing through her mind. Even as she drew quick, labored breaths, Laxia’s thoughts remained hard at work, devising a plan to turn the luchadora’s next attack against her.

Very well... Let us see you try to lift me... But then, Huh....?! Her right leg was folded and restrained first. When her left leg was subsequently entangled in the same manner, confusion slowly spread across Laxia’s face. You said this was a lift... Then it happened. SLAP - ! A crisp, stinging palm struck one side of Laxia’s waist.“AAIIIEE...!!” Laxia’s eyes flew wide as both arms reflexively shot backward before she could stop herself. Bandita seized her exposed wrists at once, as though she had been waiting for that exact reaction from the beginning. “Wh...!”

The embarrassingly undignified sound that had escaped her lips.. And the realization that she had once again reacted exactly as Bandita intended. Sent two distinct waves of humiliation washing over Laxia, turning her face bright red. How dare she... handle me like this again...! Both her arms and legs were now completely restrained by the luchadora. But Laxia’s ordeal had only just begun. Bandita began rocking back and forth with her captive. Each time Laxia was tipped forward, her breast and face were pressed into the canvas. “Uuugh...!” At first, she could not understand what Bandita was attempting to accomplish. But with every repetition, the rocking motion became wider and more forceful. At last, Laxia realized what was about to happen. Her crystal-blue eyes widened in alarm. “N-No...! Wait...!” But by the time she understood, it was already far too late. Using the steadily building momentum, Bandita smoothly rolled backward until her back met the canvas. At the same moment, Laxia’s body soared into the air.

“AAAAAAHH...!!”

With both arms and both legs restrained and spread outward, Laxia was lifted high beneath the arena lights. Her spine curved backward like a bow, while the entirety of her weight became concentrated upon a single point near the base of her back. The Romero Special was complete. Suspended high above the ring and writhing in pain, the noblewoman immediately captured the attention of the entire audience. Even in agony, her long, slender body formed an exquisite curve, prompting camera shutters and flashes to erupt around the ring as spectators hurried to preserve the moment. Bandita always exceeded Laxia’s expectations. This time was no exception. The luchadora never failed to surprise her. Pain tore simultaneously through Laxia’s arms, legs, and lower back, sending her into a frantic struggle. With every desperate movement, her ample breasts swayed perilously beneath her white attire, while her smooth abdominal muscles repeatedly tightened and relaxed in unstable contractions. Beads of sweat glistened across her skin beneath the brilliant arena lights.

Yet no matter how erratically Laxia twisted and struggled, Bandita adjusted the strength of her arms and legs with the practiced precision of a conductor. Whenever the balance shifted to one side, the luchadora subtly compensated with another limb, maintaining the Romero Special with astonishing control. Even so, Laxia refused to surrender. No matter how skilled she may be... she cannot possibly keep someone larger and heavier than herself suspended forever...!

Clinging to that single belief, she continued struggling desperately to escape Bandita’s technique. The female referee quickly dropped down near Laxia’s face. “Do you submit!?” “Nnngh... No... Nooo...!!” Her face contorted with pain, Laxia shook her head fiercely and rejected the demand without hesitation. Her orange hair whipped with the movement, sending droplets of sweat scattering through the air before they fell to the canvas below.

[CyanDimitrik]

It takes effort, suspending a body like this. People might not be able to tell it, given everything. But keeping her legs locked outright helps, and adding subtle pulls on those trapped arms works to ratchet up the intensity of the hold. And what's more? Hearing Laxia's normally composed, lovely voice crying out in pain fills Bandita with a determination to keep things going. To keep that pump riding.

Hearing her start to plead before being raised made Bandita's heart flutter. She couldn't explain why. She can't dedicate thought to it right now to try to figure it out. Not when there's too much to focus on from this angle. But if she had to reflect on it, if she had to have that instant and deep self-awareness, it would be because it made her feel powerful. It made her feel strong. With other women, she's heard begging and pleading, she's felt that wonderful moment when their endurance reaches its limit and they begin desperately fluttering a hand against either her body or the mat to signal a submission. But from someone like Laxia; so cool, so in control, so elegant... it just hit different.

Her hands squeeze the wrists tighter, not wanting any chance of her slipping away. Feeling her try to jerk or pitch in either direction is met with an adjustment, a balance redistribution, hanging on securely to the other woman and keeping her arched high above her like a suspension bridge. But even the way she refuses to submit is exciting, hearing that voice so full of pain and anguish, but at the same time determined to see it through...

...alright, now it's okay to swoon a little. To maybe admit to herself, while she's looking at the other girl's trim body racked in the air above her, that there's a possibility she's becoming smitten with her. A crush. Maybe a small one. Maybe! The tension in her body, seeing everything trembling under the strain of it, it's so inescapably human, so undeniably sincere, and all coming from someone who had to be royalty. It felt scandalous. Forbidden. Taboo for someone as normally, well, normal as her to be having this much excitement over the other woman. But how could she not? How could anyone not?

Faint droplets of sweat begin falling from Laxia's body onto Bandita's, the wrenching bobs and pushes of her arms and legs shaking free a fresh pattering of dew to fall from her waist onto Bandita's stomach, from her shoulders to fall in droplets against her chest, from the tips of her hair follicles onto her face. And this is what inspires Bandita to take the hold to the next level.

Her knees bend inwards, lowering Laxia a little in height. The right wrist is suddenly released as Bandita reaches an arm up to swiftly, decisively wrap around the noble's neck just beneath the chin to force her head backwards. She releases the left wrist to instead set her hand lightly to Laxia's waist. For balance, she's telling herself. But is it really?

The feet remain firmly planted in Laxia's thighs, the ankles twining the shins. And it's the legs she pushes out with again, and the new romero special-dragon sleeper combination locks in. That central point in Laxia's lower back flares harder, with the added benefit of her torso stretching, bowing dramatically backwards. Her arm squeezes against her jawline, holding the top of Laxia's head against the mat. The legs begin pumping, trying to send shocks of pain throughout her spine, each push forcing the girl's stomach taut for the cameras.

From this position, Bandita can maybe get away with the guilty pleasure of watching the other woman's arched body. Every flex of her abs popping against her skin, every taut second. The hand slides a little further fingertips grazing over the dampened skin before her palm settles upon her upper abdominal region.

For balance, she reminds herself. Balance. Not because she finds herself desperately wanting to touch her in this brief moment of vulnerability and control. Balance. Not because Laxia's body is beautiful and perfect. Just balance.

"Give it up!," Bandita shouts over the roar of the audience. "'Dis dance is over! Submit!"

"Do you need to tap out!?," demands the referee-girl, no longer able to see Laxia's face. But she now has her hands free! So patting the mat or Bandita's body would be viable! "Tap out if you need to!"

[Letta]

What...?! The instant Bandita’s arm hooked around her neck, the world suddenly tipped toward the canvas before Laxia. What followed surpassed even her expectations. A combination of the Romero Special and a Dragon Sleeper. “Ghk...!” The arena erupted into thunderous cheers. Her legs remained firmly trapped, leaving her not even the slightest room to move, while even greater pressure bore down upon her already overextended lower back. With her neck now being forcibly wrenched backward as well, her entire spine was drawn into an even deeper, bow-like arch.

It was, by every definition, a legitimate wrestling hold. And yet, there was something undeniably scandalous about the sight. Laxia did not believe Bandita harbored any impure intentions. Surely, every movement served no purpose beyond keeping the hold stable. At least... That was what Laxia wanted to believe. Suspended almost upside down with her body bent like a bow, she found herself exposed in a helpless posture unlike anything she had ever allowed another person to see. Agony burned through her lower back, while the arm cinched around her neck made every breath increasingly difficult. As though the hold itself were not punishing enough, Bandita began rhythmically pumping her legs. Laxia’s suspended body rocked violently through the air. Each movement sent another shock coursing along her spine. Gravity pulled her breasts downward in a perilously revealing display, while her elongated, arched body swayed again and again with no regard for her will.

“GAAAH...!”

“AAAH...!!”

“GWAAAH...!!!”

Laxia’s arms flailed as she tried to pry Bandita’s arm away from her throat, only to instinctively reach down to cover her chest a moment later. Yet every fresh jolt through her lower back sapped the strength from them, leaving both arms to wave helplessly through the air with nothing to grasp. She smiled at me... and then dared to reduce me to such a state...! Then, the hand supporting Laxia’s waist slowly began to slide downward. Bandita’s fingertips brushed across her abdomen, leaving behind a faintly ticklish sensation before her palm gently settled against Laxia’s stomach. That brazen little chiquita...!! Laxia jolted sharply at the unexpected contact. At once, the same strange sensation she had experienced during the pin returned. A forbidden thrill. To Laxia, her abdomen was territory she did not willingly surrender to anyone. Of course, it had been struck countless times during matches and subjected to all manner of wrestling techniques. But this was neither a punch nor a shoulder thrust, It was merely the touch of a bare hand. And somehow, that made it far more dangerous. The greatest problem was... She did not dislike it.

Just as she had not disliked it during the pin. That was precisely the problem. Laxia had no idea how she was supposed to process such a feeling. She had never experienced anything like it before. The touch did not repulse her. Yet accepting it felt as though she would be laying her most vulnerable self bare before her opponent. A gentle touch that might ultimately lead to her undoing. Surely, Bandita had no choice but to place her hand there in order to maintain the hold. That was how Laxia attempted to reason with herself. But... Only moments ago, she had been provoking Bandita from behind a mask of calm confidence. Now, she was perilously close to breaking. Her body was far more honest than her words. And Laxia... Could only hope that Bandita would fail to notice what was happening to her. It was mortifying. Humiliating. Her abdomen rose and fell with breaths far shallower and more rapid than before, tightening and relaxing in an erratic rhythm beneath Bandita’s palm. With that hand resting against her, Laxia felt as though she had been stripped bare.

Through nothing more than her palm, Bandita would surely be able to feel it all. How badly Laxia was struggling. How fiercely her body trembled. How close she was drawing to her limit. More than anything else, that realization filled her with shame. For the first time since the match had begun, Laxia felt herself approaching the very edge of what she could endure. This is... dangerous...

For the briefest moment, The temptation to abandon everything and surrender passed through her mind. But, A lady of her standing could not submit in such a state. What kept her fighting was neither strength nor technique. It was pride. The stubborn pride of a noblewoman, inefficient in its demands and endlessly burdensome to preserve. The pride that made her choose elaborate dresses over comfortable clothing. That made her wear elevated heels instead of practical, flat-soled shoes. That had compelled her throughout her life to discipline herself and preserve her dignity at all times. To others, it might have seemed like meaningless vanity. But to Laxia, that pride and sense of honor were fundamental to who she was. She could not allow all of it.. To crumble while she was displayed like this. “Nnngh... ghk... N-never...!!” Though cornered and pushed to her limit, Laxia’s refusal remained absolute.

[CyanDimitrik]

The referee-girl remains closer, lingering wide-eyed and concerned. Her job is to officiate the match, to make sure the rules are followed, sure. Absolutely. But it's also to make sure things don't go too far! It's a full contact sport with some very specific rules to try to avoid injury, but even in the natural state of legal holds, things can go too far. People can get really hurt! But there's nothing she can do if someone doesn't tap out!

"Do you submit!? You have to tap out if you submit!," she calls over the roar of the audience.

Meanwhile, Bandita continues the methodical pattern of motion; knees bend a little, then pump upwards. Each one sends a fresh, ripping jolt of pain through Laxia's spine, each apex point forcing the arm to cinch briefly around the girl's slender throat. Hearing her scream in pain, suffering in the hold, it was mesmerizing. Every proof positive she could ever need about this hold, about the effectiveness of it, was encapsulated in every pealing cry of her luxurious opponent.

That hand felt like a connection to her outside of the hold. It wasn't necessary. She'd have to come to terms with that. She didn't need to keep the hand there against her waist for balance. She had the ginger locked down securely in the hold, and as long as her legs held out, she could continue to torture her. The hand, now slowly sliding down along Laxia's ribs, nearer her obliques. Fingertips just reach the side of her belly, feeling the muscles flex periodically under her hand. Bandita's gaze, lacking anything better to look at, fell to the closest thing - Laxia's chest, rocking with each jolt of punishment and straining against her gorgeous top. She hadn't realized she was starting to stare at her. But that's definitely something she'd begun doing.

Suddenly, Laxia refuses to submit a second time! A defiant roar, pain soaking the delivery, seemingly half in anguish, half in outrage, ripping over the static noise of the crowd surrounding them. It shocks Bandita back to attention, her hand slipping inwards to bring her palm further upon her stomach. The fingertips rest just at the edge of Laxia's navel, Bandita's heart racing. She knows she's suffering. She knows this has to be an ungodly amount of torture. But she just won't give in!

"Aahh," she says, her face turning towards the captive head. She can't see her face. She can't see the pain written there. But she wants her to hear this impulsive gush: "You're still fighting! 'Dis has to hurt! You're amazing, princesa!" There is no mockery in that voice; nothing but stark admiration, unadulterated and excited. For as much as she's trying to not sound smitten, in he heat of the moment, with muscles straining and holding an unwilling body at an extreme angle, tensions high and the demand for a submission imminent, it's difficult to keep that out of her voice. Like the sound of a fan - who happens to be hurting you.

"Making you submit...," she pumps her legs again, as if to punctuate the idea by sending a fresh volt of pain through her body, "...would be incredible! But seeing you hang in there.." Another pump of the legs, eager to wrench another scream from the girl. "..is even more! If I were in 'de stands right now... I'd think you were just..." She pauses, trying to find the word. The legs pump again, and this time, the toes of her boots push into the thighs to try to force the arch as tight as possible for a few sustained seconds. "...spectacular!"

The sustained pressure eases again.

"But don't hold out so long 'dat you get hurt!," she says. Her voice remains earnest, but the admiration has shifted into a plea. "I don't want to really hurt you! I'm gonna do everything I can to beat you! An' that means making you tap out right here and now! Just- agh! If- if 'dat's what it takes, if it's what your spirit demands, I- I won't insult you! I won't insult you by giving you less 'dan my best! Understand!?"

"Just know 'dat... I think you're- pretty great!"

It's not a bluff. Not really. But it is meant to try to spur some worry in Laxia, if she were trying to call a bluff of some kind. Bandita didn't want to release her. She knew she had her solidly in position. But at the same time, she also knew that the strain of supporting her full bodyweight on her legs was coming to an end. For as much as she could feel Laxia's waist trembling under her hand and savoring the feel of that physical strain, the stretch of her taut abdominal, there was a tremor starting to build in Bandita's legs. She couldn't sustain this much longer.

[Letta]

The referee watched Laxia with mounting concern. Even a perfectly legal hold could become dangerous when the body was forced into so severe an angle. Had Laxia not devoted years to ballet, which cultivating both flexibility and exquisite control over every movement, she might already have succumbed to the position. Yet even that discipline now served only to keep her poised at the very edge of what her body could endure. Bandita handled the slightly larger woman with unnerving precision. Each bend of her knees lowered Laxia by degrees, each upward thrust forced her spine into a deeper arch while the arm around her slender neck tightened. There was no cruelty in it.

Bandita denied her even the smallest reprieve because she had acknowledged Laxia as a worthy opponent. Anything less than her utmost effort would have been an insult. Another forceful pump of the luchadora’s legs sent a violent current of pain through Laxia’s spine. “Ghh...AAAH!” But when her body was drawn into its most punishing angle yet, even a scream failed her. “Hh...ngh……!” Only a strangled breath escaped her lips. The audience fell into uneasy silence as the cameras hastened to capture the noblewoman suspended above the mat, her trained body bent perilously close to its limit.

Her free hand drifted weakly downward. The referee’s eyes widened. Around them, the crowd stirred in expectation of a submission. Yet no slap struck the canvas. Laxia’s fingertips touched the mat, then curled firmly into it, as though refusing to yield even an inch of ground. Bandita’s words had unsettled her before, but this time they carried neither teasing nor pity. The luchadora was not admiring the Roswell name, nor the elegance with which Laxia presented herself. She was acknowledging Laxia herself. The woman beneath the title, the wrestler who continued to endure. Laxia gathered the remnants of her breath with visible effort. “*pant* If you truly consider me…… spectacular……” Pain fractured the sentence, but not her composure. “Then…… I suggest you do not look away……!”

At once, all resistance seemed to leave her body. The referee leaned closer, alarmed, but Laxia had not surrendered. She had simply ceased supporting any portion of her own weight, allowing the full burden of her taller frame to settle upon Bandita’s legs. At first, she assumed the trembling belonged to her own battered body. Then she felt it again. A faint instability beneath her thighs. A subtle flaw in Bandita’s previously flawless rhythm. The luchadora’s legs were beginning to falter. Through the haze of pain, Laxia’s gaze sharpened. At last, an opening. Bandita’s knees bent once more, lowering Laxia closer to the mat. For the briefest instant, the angle of pressure against her neck and spine shifted.

That moment was all she required. Laxia planted one palm against the canvas and seized the arm around her neck with the other. Forcing her trembling abdomen to contract despite the pain, she twisted her shoulders and hips sharply toward one side. She did not attempt the crude task of overpowering both legs at once. Instead, she directed the full weight of her body toward the one that had begun to tremble. Strength alone would not free her. Precision would. With a strained cry, Laxia cast her weight sideways, attempting to send both women crashing to the mat and bring the hold down with them.

[CyanDimitrik]

Bandita felt every tremor of pain that shot through Laxia's form, not only through her legs, but through that extracurricular hand caressing the smooth, slightly dampened skin of her midsection. A part of her wanted the touch to be comforting, but - really, that was just another form of excuse-making, much like the whole stability thing. By this point, she was really getting over making pretenses for herself. This was exciting. A thrill, in a whole new way. And touching the other woman's skin in this moment of distress was another way to feel that, to appreciate the stunning person she had wrestled into this perilous position.

Though she can't see her face, she can hear the words. Her heart began to race anew with them - a mix of acceptance and defiance. Acceptance that Bandita admired her. Defiance that this would be the end of her. But what would she do!? What could she do!? With just a few more pumps, she would surely have her slapping the mat. And the hand that moved to the canvas quickly took her focus, eyes wide and smile spreading and the hand pressing into her abdomen in anticipation.

This is it!

THIS IS IT!

..no! "Ahah!" The sound escapes Bandita before she can capture it - breathless and delighted. Laxia has never been more beautiful! Even with her face hidden beneath her arm, Laxia's body stretched taut with quaking tension, her chest pressed forward, and that spirit, the sight of her - the feel of her form tangled with her - is exhilarating. It caused something between a short laugh and a gasp.

She's fully prepared to be amazed when Laxia tells her to watch her. No one could convince her to look away from that athletic, refined body on display, even if they offered her the whole entirety of Guatemala. She draws her bottom lip between her teeth, eyes widening. But to her shock, the figure in her grip slackens.

"Ah!?"

It's a briefly panicked sound. She didn't feel anything pop, she didn't feel anything give out in specific - she hadn't hurt her, had she!? Her focus turns quickly to the referee, who similarly seems to be spiking with concern.

"P-Princesa?," Bandita asks. Unsure how to force a response from the girl any other way, Bandita opts to give the legs another pump. A scream would suffice. Something! Her knees bend, trembling a little more under the newfound dead weight--

An explosion of effort. "AAH!" Her left knee gives out, the head slips from her arm, and both wrestlers topple in a leftwards direction. Laxia lands with Bandita's arm somewhat trapped and wrapped around her middle, with the Latina almost spooning in behind her back. Her right hand moves to the girl's hip, at first as if to block her from moving, but soon becoming just another point of contact. There, she lays with Laxia for a few long, hard breaths, her bosom shifting against the ginger's back with every hard inhale.

"I still have to beat you up," rises Bandita's voice from behind Laxia's head. It's delivered softly, as if an afterthought. "But I was right."

With that, the Latina begins to pool her strength, willing her legs to put in the effort again. The arm around Laxia's waist tightens, curling against her midsection to begin dragging her body first to a seated position as the rogue moves to her knees. Both arms wrap around her stomach, and with a boot tucking beneath her flank, she pushes to her full height to drag Laxia to her feet.

Once at a vertical base, the waistlock will cinch in in earnest. Her forearms pull in firmly along Laxia's belly, her hands settled against the smooth curvature of her waist, compressing and pulling her back against the luchadora. Bandita's hips press snug against Laxia's rear, the bare skin of her midsection flush against the ginger's bare back, and the plush softness of her breasts conforming against her upper back and shoulders.

[Letta]

Laxia’s gamble had succeeded. Bandita’s left knee buckled, sending both women spilling sideways as a heavy impact shook the mat. The arm around Laxia’s throat slipped free, finally allowing her to escape the torturous hold. Freedom, however, did not mean she could immediately move. Her back, waist, legs, and arms all throbbed with a lingering numbness. Laxia remained on her side for several moments, unable to do more than draw ragged breaths through parted lips.

“Haaah…… ngh……”

Perhaps as the price of supporting Laxia’s full weight on her legs, Bandita was equally slow to rise. One arm remained trapped between them, still wrapped around Laxia’s toned midsection, while the other hand rested lightly against her hip. From behind, the position almost resembled an embrace shared after an exhausting struggle. Warm breath tickled the back of Laxia’s neck. Heat pressed against her back. With every inhale, a soft pressure shifted against her before easing away again. The impertinent hand resting upon her hip deserved an immediate reprimand. At present, however, Laxia scarcely possessed the strength to glare at her. Instead, the brief stillness while Bandita recovered her breath felt like a comfort she had no right to enjoy. For one fleeting moment, Laxia even found herself wishing they might remain there for just a few seconds longer.

Compose yourself...!

Bandita’s soft voice behind her head pulled Laxia back to reality. Laxia understood what she meant. Bandita still regarded her as a remarkable opponent. Laxia’s exhausted lips trembled faintly. She refused to acknowledge that fatigue was not the only reason. Their respite, however, had already come to an end. The arm around her abdomen tightened as Bandita began drawing her upward. First into a seated position, then onto her knees, and finally back onto her feet. “Nnngh……!” Pain stirred anew throughout Laxia’s spine and waist, drawing a low groan from her. At the very least, she had been spared the indignity of staggering back to her feet by herself. That thought had scarcely crossed her mind when Bandita’s arms coiled around her waist like serpents. Her forearms cinched firmly across Laxia’s abdomen. Her hands settled securely along the narrow curve of her waist, pulling her backward as though determined not to let her escape again. “Hnngh……!”

Laxia’s hips were drawn tightly against Bandita’s. The luchadora’s firm abdomen pressed into the bare skin of her lower back, and with every labored breath, Laxia could feel the muscles behind her tense and relax. There were few things she despised more than being handled so freely by another person. And yet, the closeness threatening to drag her into danger once again felt far too enticing. That realization stirred another strange sense of guilt within her. This time, however, Laxia refused to remain lost in the sensation. Bandita’s arms tightened further around her stomach, forcing Laxia’s upper body to bend forward. Her compressed abdominals trembled beneath the pressure, but as her gaze lowered, the luchadora’s left leg entered her field of vision. The very leg that had buckled beneath her weight moments before. Laxia had not forgotten that faint tremor. Her gaze sharpened. “Then……” She bent forward even farther, reaching both arms between her own legs. Her hands closed firmly around Bandita’s left ankle.

“I suggest you hold on tightly, chiquita.”

At once, Laxia bent her knees and dropped her center of gravity. She pulled the captured ankle sharply forward while twisting her shoulders and hips toward one side. She had no intention of lifting Bandita with her injured back, nor of tearing the waistlock apart through brute force. Meeting strength with strength would have been foolish. She sought only one thing. To undermine the foundation that had already faltered once before. With a strained cry, Laxia drove her weight downward and to the side, dragging Bandita’s left ankle forward as she attempted to collapse the balance of both women together.