Nefretiri vs. Mistress Beatrix - A Rough Start

[BlackAkuma]

It would be a safe bet to say that this wasn’t starting off in the way that Beatrice had planned - not that she had any real ‘plans’ when it came to this match, per se, but she certainly hadn't foreseen getting ragdolled by a woman who looked like that hot evil chick from the second Mummy movie. While she’d only taken a belly-to-belly so far, that was one hell of a belly-to-belly take, coming dangerously close to launching her out of the ring. This woman had power.

She was relentless, too. Beatrice had only begun to rise when she was on her again, grasping her by the arm while she grabbed hold of her neck, keeping her locked up and in complete control. Beatrice rose up on her tiptoes, struggling to stay erect as she was moved forward.

That being said, she didn’t totally hate the way Nefretiri’s chest felt against her back, nor did she hate the way she whispered in her ear. She bit her lip, suppressing a few sounds that she would rather keep to herself, as the woman continued to march her towards the corner.

”I…don’t not mind, I guess.” She rolled a few ideas in her head, playing out how this could go if she were more resistant. It was already clear who was the stronger woman here, Beatrice had been squashed enough times to know. But that didn’t have to be the way things went. ”Maybe I can help with that.”

At the mention of Morrigan, Beatrice turned to see her fellow domme hanging out a ringside, lackadaisical leaning on the apron with a flat gaze into the ring. ”Oh, that’s Morrigan. Or the Morrigan, sometimes. She’s my teammate. Kind of. Sort of. Not really yet, but we’re workshopping things out, seeing how I fit.”

That was the best explanation she could give, and she was wholly aware it wasn’t the best one.

[CyanDimitrik]

It's difficult to describe how Nefretiri is looking at Mistress Beatrix right now. She's a bit of an oddity in an opponent. She can appreciate her flare for the dramatics, for wanting to create a distinct image. Even if she isn't entirely sure what it is yet. But more than that, her rather frank and guileless manner is kind of refreshing. Aside the opening remark, everything Beatrix has said has been unusually earnest. The fact that she's physically overpowering her doesn't take away from it; it might even enhance it.

The double negative causes the Egyptian to scrunch her nose briefly, however. No, she didn't care for that. It almost sounded like she wanted Nefretiri to dominate her in front of everyone. What a twist that would've been. But what she says afterwards brings the two to a natural pause before the turnbuckle. The position is a threatening one, and with Beatrix restrained as she is, the audience is on the edge of their seat waiting for it - for her pretty face to probably collide with the top buckle.

In fairness, that is absolutely what Nefretiri is planning. But once again, Beatrix has earned a moment of consideration. She isn't loosening up on the hold, keeping the girl's hand trapped between mid-back and abdominals, and keeping the arm wrapped snug around her throat and collar. But her head turns just slightly, the lips a couple inches closer to the edge of her ear. Once more, the audience wouldn't notice it; that small, intimate adjustment would only be noticeable from the warm breeze of the Egyptian's breath against her skin, and the shift in her voice's clarity.

"Are you offering yourself to me?," she whispers.

The question lingers a few seconds in the air, against the backdrop of untold scores of people cheering for the impending impact.

"It sounds like things are still in the air..."

There's a pause. Then the arm withdraws from Beatrix's neck to instead move her hand to the back of her head, fingers clamping a fistful of messy blonde near the scalp. And then, it's a forward thrust, bending Beatrix's upper-body forward and, most particularly, her head careening towards the top turnbuckle. Though likely painful, Beatrix has earned another subtle mercy - she's attempting to manually turn the girl's head so her cheek and brow take the hit, not her delicate nose or lips.

Regardless, she means to keep that wrist bound behind her back. Nor does she shy away from her figure, letting Beatrix's rear press back into her hips.