Christie Myers vs Drake "Domino" Vyril- A prisoner, or a living corpse?

[Armada]

Most of the time, Christie just wanted to beat her foe in as definite way as possible and then head off for a hot shower and a day left lounging around. She was only invested in a fight if she absolutely despised her opponent, and luckily for the audience, that was an all to common occurrence. Otherwise, Christie often remained cold and rude towards others. Hardly ever did the Undead Juggernaut break away from the vile sadist persona she seemed to embody. Really, her last-minute struggle in Domino’s hold would not have happened if her had used a move that kept her away from his lust. Christie had broken bones, spilled blood, and copious amounts of other violent and immoral acts…but she wasn’t the type of girl that put out for anyone. Oddly, that was a line Christie did not dare to cross just yet. It was like the last shred of purity the Undead housed within herself, and she was not yet ready to taint it with some run of the mill gangbanger.

Domino was cute, and he was far from a gangbanger, but Christie was not sure if he was “the one”. He was easily the closest she had ever met, his cruel glare melting her iced, still heart down to the core! Christie wanted to know more about Domino, perhaps stimulate him the same way he did her, but she would not go that far. In a way it was foreplay, but Christie would not let the fantasy get too real.

A swift knee to the skull kept any naughty thoughts from entering Domino’s head. It was enough to shake Christie loose from his grasp, the Crypt Keeper tumbling awkwardly down to the floor before landing on her posterior. She did not stay there for long, quickly hopping up to her feet while trying to shake some of the disorientation away. It seemed quite a bit of blood had rushed to her head, and suddenly being dropped right side up made things a little confusing.

Both fighters seemed a bit dazed, but Domino too the initiative, throwing a clothesline at Christie’s collar in an attempt to smash her back to the ground and make her submissive once more. Sadly, the Crypt Keeper still had some wits about her, and no pesky “morals” to weigh her down.

Christie lunged, but not at Domino, but rather the innocent referee who made the sad mistake of getting too close. Like spider ensnaring its prey, Christie forcefully snatched up the smaller girl, who only had enough time to give a quick scream before being tossed at Domino’s clothesline like a living sacrifice. Christies burning red eyes seemed to hover behind the poor girl up until the Model’s powerful fore arm smashed into her collar and brought her down like a crumbling brick wall. Even the crowd seemed to flinch at the ferocity of the attack.

It proved to be an excellent distraction. All of the audience was wondering if the young referee was alright. No one spared a thought for the predator who had wrapped her up and tossed her at the violent car-crash of an attack, or where she had slinked away to. The vile woman in black had disappeared for the moment, disappearing outside the ring.

When the Undead returned to the ring, she had something in her hand. Christie stood up, brandishing a large shovel in both of her hands. Her red and black hair was messed up from being tipped upside down, a long strain of black hair obscuring her red eyes which seemed to be watching Domino as she silently approached him.

[CyanDimitrik]

The clothesline was meant to be wild and horrible, not in inaccuracy, but in savagery. Domino had intended to level the dark-haired opponent and set her up for a proper finisher - maybe something more humiliating. Forcing her to tap out might be the right way to start her... what would it be called, slavery? That hits the metaphorical ear wrong. He doesn't know what to consider it, only that he is determined to be in the position of power in their dynamic.

The full force of that clothesline is presented, however, to the wrong target. Their referee-girl takes the impact on the throat, causing her to flip over and land hard on the mat. Given the girl's much slighter frame and shorter size, Domino knew at once it wasn't Christie he'd slammed. And upon seeing the incapacitated official, he immediately diverts attention to try to ensure she's okay. She's a referee - she isn't guaranteed to be able to take a hit! So he rolls the girl onto her back, noting her dazed, half-lidded eyes.

Very gingerly, he begins patting her on the cheek. "Hey. Hey! You alright? You need a doctor?," asks the model, leaning over her.

Though the audience can certainly see Christie on approach with the shovel, Domino does not. But he knows leaving his opponent unchecked for too long isn't a good idea, despite whatever distraction. He raises to his full height.

[Armada]

Eight feet…five feet…three feet…

Like an encroaching shadow, Christie approached Domino’s backside with hardly a sound. Only the crowd seemed to care to warn the poor man, but their constant shrieks and warnings all mixed together in an unintelligible swirl of white noise and clashing voices. The only thing that gave away Christie’s cold presence was the silent “tip-tap” of her shoes against the ring’s canvas floor.

Domino, as harsh as he had been to Christie through out their fight, still had enough compassion in him to check on the lady referee. He was totally different with her, speaking softly and checking to see if the smaller woman was alright. It might have been deemed sweet, were the circumstances different, and the threat not looming over his shoulder at this point.

Christie smiled a cold smile as she heard the Model ask the poor referee if she needed a doctor. Perhaps he sensed her presence behind him, or maybe his mind had snatched up a few of the crowd’s warnings and sub-consciously reminded him of the danger…or Christies favorite option, he was getting up to take the fight right back to the Grave Keeper. She hoped it was the latter for a number of reasons, chief among them was because…

Christie Smiled a cold smile

She would be sure it failed

“She won’t need a doctor…but you probably will~”

Christie swung the shovel hard against Domino’s back, right between the shoulder blades, still wearing that smile. She granted him the mercy of using the broad side of the shovel, making sure to cut or jab the models lovely silk skin, but instead going for straight blunt trauma. It would hurt, but there would be no scars, his modeling body only suffering a bruise at worst. A token of affection, in Christie’s twisted mind.

If Christie was not lucky enough to take Domino down with the first swing, she would have to commit to another. Hopefully, her surprise assault would take the fight right out of Domino and drop him like a broken punching bag. If all went as planned, then she would start to wrap things up.

After making sure Domino was down, Christie would toss her shovel over the ropes, letting it clatter against the concrete floor. Afterwards she would walk towards the lifeless body of the referee, and stomp on it twice. Just enough to get a reaction from the wounded girl, before leaning over and slapping her with an open hand, looking to get the referees attention.

“Do your job. Count the pin.”

Christie’s red eyes bored into hers until the scared little girl looked away. She understood what would happen if she didn’t do what Christie wanted. Standing back up to her full height, the Crypt Keeper would kick Domino onto his back and lay across him. Her pin was intentionally similar to the one Domino had put her in earlier; her hand stacking his wrists above his head, her legs tangling themselves around his, and her toned abs and soft breasts grinding against his abdomen. His sweat was cold on her body, and every breath her took seemed to raise her from the ground gently, like a sensual ride. Christie stared into Domino’s amethyst eyes, her hair falling to the side like a curtain, giving them some strange sense of privacy as the referee crawled over towards them.

“1!”

……

……

………

“2!”

What the hell was that long pause? Is that little shit intentionally counting slow?!? Bitch!!!

[CyanDimitrik]

A crescendo of boos rise among the audience when shovel impacts back with a thick WHUMP sound. Domino had been hit by chairs before. He'd have preferred it here. Chairs, while metallic, are light and loose. A shovel - not so much. The force blasts him down against the mat on his front, feeling paralyzed from the sudden burst of flaming pain shooting through his back. In an instant, he knows what happened. Perhaps not the exact mechanics of it, but he's, in a word, painfully aware.

Limbs twitch as all he can do while he waits to regain personal agency. The world is a haze. He can feel himself be rolled over. The bikini-clad heel lies herself overtop him. The look in his eyes is glassy and unfocused, his breathing strained and rapid, pushing his tight body against hers with every inhale. The audience knows it as soon as the girl is on top of him, and though the referee is either still dazed or being spiteful, no amount of delays will hold off the inevitable here.

Her hand finally hits the mat the third time.

"Three!"

She waves an arm to signal the bell. *DING* *DING* *DING*

Just like that, Drake has become this woman's would-be property for the next twenty-four hours. And all he can do is lie beneath her, pliable.

[Armada]

“Three!”

The bell rang, signaling the end of the match. Jeers and boos of all kinds rained down on the fighters in the ring like a hailstorm. Neither of the combatants moved for a good few moments after the bell, each one simply laying on each other in a strange, half caring, half hateful embrace.

Finally, Christie peeled herself off from Domino’s chiseled frame, suddenly looking much, much more fatigued then she had before. The bruises and blows she had taken earlier were catching up with her, and it felt as if every inch of her body was sore from the head down. The Crypt Keepers breathing was labored, and she let one of her hands brush away her long black hair that was obscuring her face. Her eyes were still on the prey that had fallen underneath her, but the malice, greed, and lust were gone. All that was left was fatigue, and a slight hint of attraction.

The Femme fatale leaned down, gently tapping Dominos face so that he might hear what she whispered in his ear.

“Hey…Good job out there. You would have had me if not for that referee mix-up, but I guess that doesn’t matter anymore. I hope you see this fight as just some fiendly competition, and that we can bury any ill will towards each other?”

With that slightly embarrassing display out of the way, she crawled off Domino and walked to her corner. She plucked up the jacket that was hanging behind the ropes and dug through its contents before finding what it was she was looking for. Slipping the jacket on, Christie once again approached domino’s down form, slipping a piece of paper in his waist band.

“My address and number are on that card. I’ll give you an hour of our time to relax and freshen up, but only an hour. If you get lost, just call me. I don’t want to have to come looking for you.”

With that, Christie turned away, leaving her defenseless foe alone in a rather uncharacteristic display of sportsmanship. Instead, the Crypt Keeper rolled out of the ring, collected her shovel, and walked up the ramp without acknowledging a single fan. She simply disappeared behind the curtains, with hardly any sign she had been there at all.

Winner by pinfall: Christie Myers.

The End