L.A.W. - League of Anime Wrestling

This was an unfamiliar experience for Lacramioara; being the Goliath to somebody else's David. Even Jaclyn, the Lightweight of The Coterie, was only ten pounds lighter, and was an inch taller than her. She certainly couldn't power her around like she could Dizzy. It gave her some perspective. Allowed her to understand what it was like for Mary. That lifting feeling that comes with being able to physically force your will upon someone with but a push was something that she'd be seeking more of throughout this match.

And having been used to being the smaller person in the ring gave her a sense for her opponent's potential tactics. Like what she did when she had the "sweet, petite treat" pinned in the corner, steadily pushing through the Italian's meager resistance and edging closer...closer...sliding a hand from her shoulder to take hold of the back of her neck as she pushed even closer, still. Locking eyes with her now, with the burning gaze she fixed on Little Red Riding Dizzy was one that said what they both knew: "This is inevitable."

And then she would push back. Or so it would appear from ringside, or the angles the cameras would capture for the video. The tongue had come out as predicted, brushing lightly along her neck. Little contact, but it was an introduction to her main weapon nonetheless. Lacramioara moved that hand from the back of her neck to the front and established a commanding grip of the sides, removing her from the soft flesh she was helping herself to and pushing her even deeper into the corner. A stocking-clad thigh would find just the right spot between her legs and press into it. A warning and a teaser, of what's to come if she continues to misbehave and if she were to do the opposite, respectively, but also an invitation...

"Be careful where you put that tongue, bucata dulce."

The moment wouldn't last long, but the Toreador-esque beauty would milk it for all it's worth.

"ONE!" The referee was just doing her job here. What Lacramioara was doing -- the choke in particular -- was technically illegal. Alix had a mind to walk over and tell her that it was okay, knowing that Dizzy would be loving what was happening to her, but in the end would stay where she was. The count would make it a taste that would leave the both of them wanting more.

"TWO! THREE! FOUR!" And then Lacramioara would let go, obeying the command to back away and give Dizzy some space. Her hungry eyes were on her the entire time, waiting for her to leave the safety of the corner to walk back into her den.

Romanian to English Translation

"Bucata dulce" -- "sweet morsel"

While Dizzy preferred her women on the larger, thicker side, she firmly believed that the right attitude could make up for just about anything. Being her size with a body shape not unlike a wooden board, she had to believe that. She couldn't afford to lack confidence when she approached her potential paramours; if she came off as meek as she looked, they’d either ignore her outright or walk over her. She acted like she was the sexiest thing in the room, carried herself like all eyes should be on her, and it routinely worked out for her.

She didn’t know Lacramioara personally, not yet, but she suspected the vixen subscribed to a similar philosophy. She wasn’t as immediately imposing as her towering partner, but radiated a steaming, overpowering dominant energy that made Dizzy wither under her gaze. There was a fire in her eyes, and when she pushed Dizzy awake from the tantalizing taste of her neck, she felt that same flame in her touch.

Dizzy’s face showed fear as the woman gripped her neck and held her against the rope. Lips quivering, body shaking, hands trembling, mouth agape with a silent gasp. She took care not to go overboard, since they were still in the first act of the story they were creating, but she made sure to sell the moment. She was overpowered. She was helpless. She was a little fly caught in the spider’s web.

Below the waist, outside of the camera’s view, things were different. She made sure Lacramioara knew exactly how much she loved this treatment, as she thrusted against the invading leg with incessant humps, grinding against her thigh. She could’ve stayed in this corner for hours.

But, you know. Rules and stuff. Damn it.

Lacramioara released the hold at the referee’s insistence and Dizzy came stumbling out of the corner, coughing and gagging as she rubbed her neck. She straightened up and looked back to her opponent, brows furrowed with caution and fear. She approached the vampiress again with hands raised, working her way in with tepid steps, looking her foe up and down as she neared as if she expected a trap to be sprung at any moment.

Dizzy’s mother could only teach her so many moves, given the size difference between them, but the knowledge that she had imparted, the fundamental techniques, had taken root well. She had a good foundation to build on, finally, and she showed some of it as she moved with a sudden swift burst. At first, it seemed like she might try another tie-up, but she ducked down at the last moment, weaved around Lacramioara’s flanks, and attempted to come at her from behind, hoping to secure her with a waistlock.

Oh, and wouldn’t you know it, her hands slipped between the woman’s legs and pressed against her clothed sex for a moment as she did so. Oops.

The way she shrank in her grasp. The fear welled up inside of her so fast, being powerful enough to shake her and thick enough to stay her voice. It was enough to put a dark, fanged smile on Lacramioara's face. She was making all the right moves, pulling her fast into a more dominant state of mind.

Dizzy wouldn't have had long to enjoy herself even without the referee's interference. An occasion like this deserved much more effort than simply standing in place and letting the girl grind herself into a loss first thing. This night needed to be something so hot, it would be burned into her memory for the rest of her days.

She made the perfect exit from the corner, more acted than real, most likely. As the Toreador of the group, Lacramioara didn't have many points invested into Strength. But given the ease she had in pushing her into that position to begin with, it was entirely possible that she had a tighter hold on her than she'd intended. And if that were indeed the case, she'd make it up to her.

At some point.

The she-wolf approached again with the measured, confident steps of an expert hunter closing in on dinner, sharply contrasting with Little Red Riding Hood's stumbling into another tie-up. With arms raised into the proper positions to oblige her, she lunged forward and...

Ha! Deception. Adrenaline flooded into her system the moment Dizzy made that first unnatural movement towards her, bringing more of the world into view the further her pupils dilated. If only bullet time came with it. Her body moved on pure instinct; there was no way she was keeping up with that road runner in human guise when she was putting conscious thought into the effort.

Dizzy still got her hooks in around her waist, and a gasp and a flinch when she took something extra with it. Those little hands weren't just squeezing and hoping for the best. They applied the right amount of pressure, complete with a finger lined up with her entrance. She had to fight the smile that was trying to take form. Many wrestlers watched their own matches, at least to better learn from them. If this goes right, Dizzy might want to look back at it for...other purposes. And so, the actress in Eveline wanted to play her part to the best of her ability.

So she was swift to retaliate, reaching back over her shoulder while taking a knee. If she found purchase, she'd flip Dizzy over with a snapmare and not only reverse their positions, but also bring her prey down to more dangerous territory. The mat. Her house.

If Dizzy’s mother were here, she’d be shouting all sorts of advice at this point, reinforcing all the lessons she’d taught her daughter and giving her no shortage of well-meaning but unnecessary encouragement. She would likely be happy with her little trick working out as well as it did. These days, she was trying to help her be a little trickier in the ring, building off advice Dizzy had taken from a certain luscious Latin training partner - not that the proud Italian would ever admit as much out loud. Moments like this made it clear that it was paying off.

Of course, if Dizzy’s mother was here, she’d probably have torn this place apart by now when she realized what it was, so yeah, not the best image. Maybe Ionia could stop her; the woman was big enough to ring her bell if she got in a few good hits. However, if she were in Mama Bear mode, all bets would be off.

Ugh, Dizzy had to stop letting her mother slip into her mind, particularly in moments like this, when she had her hands on such a dazzling beauty as Lacramioara. Even though the clothes, even with such a simple touch, she could feel the woman’s wondrous body drawing her in, making her want to do so much more. It took real, honest effort to stay in character like this - how many times had she been this close to a lover and done so much more?

Patience. Remember the role. A little bit of effort will go a long way. For now, she was content to poke and prod, giving her partner and potential paramore the promise of so much more. She didn’t want to be the only one seeking satisfaction before they were through.

She sunk back into her play, bringing out a surprised smile and filling her voice with a shocked, elated laugh. She’d just gotten the upper hand against her predator, turned the tables, and maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe her foe was all talk. Maybe she could win. ”There, I’ve got you, and-”

Dizzy suspected Lacramioara would get out of this with ease, and sure enough, she did so in short order with a flourish, seizing Dizzy by the head and whipping her about with a snapmare, a wrestling staple executed to perfection. The tiny Italian let out a shriek as she flew, one that wasn’t entirely faked, and wound up getting dumped on her backside. Flat on her backside. Easy prey.

Panicked eyes, a breathless gasp. She sat up quickly and tried to scramble away, reaching out for the ropes, but she was a frightened rabbit and the wolf was so very close…

Right on her heels, on all fours like the Beast she'd warned her about. Growling out a "Come here!"

It took Eveline a long time to learn how to turn that dainty voice of hers into something that could hold some authority. One of the hardest parts of playing the Domme when she first started getting into it was issuing commands without first inspiring laughter and giggles. Selling herself as a woman who brooked no argument despite her often smaller size. After years of making homemade movies, and later YouTube videos with her sister, getting the look down was easy. But the voice? It kept making them break eventually.

With Emilia's acting prowess having extended to her vocals, she'd employ her help with this, devoting hours upon hours to learning how to control her chords. Deepen her pitch. When and how to bring her diaphragm into it, among other tricks. She'd never become as talented as her little sis, but it did solve the problem.

Lacramioara reached out to drag Dizzy back into the lion's den, getting a hold of her ankle just as her prey was about to touch the ropes. Coming close to having her in her clutches, almost being right on top of her...

Only for her to "slip" away, partially through Dizzy's own affected effort. It would be a short-lived escape: The rabbit would need to accelerate again after having her forward momentum stopped completely, and in that time, Lacramioara would be better able to grasp her boot, then her skirt -- just so happening to coincide with a hearty smack of her ass -- and with a more secure hold of her, it was back to the center of the ring.

Lacramioara would plop down high on Dizzy's legs to stop a third attempt before it could even start, reintroduce her swanlike neck to a soft hand that would apply a rough downward pressure to keep her pinned, and reach for a wrist so she could bring one of hers behind her back, adding some pressure on her shoulder to make for a one-two metaphorical punch that would keep her firmly beneath her.

With the hold secured, she'd lean in close, glaring down at her with the fangs bared, to add a third. "You reach beyond your station, little girl. You may touch me only when I allow it. Do you understand?"

That voice, that voice, that voice.

Romanian, if her memory served Dizzy well. It had been a long while since she’d been up that way, once for a small-time wrestling show in Sibiu. They weren’t there long enough for her to make anything of it, and she’d only managed to have a fun tryst with one of the ring crew before they left, nothing too memorable. But Lacramioara’s voice made her wish she had stayed longer.

The power. The command. Authority. It sent a shiver running through Dizzy’s body and the fine hairs along her skin pointed skyward, goosebumps all over. She fought the urge to obey and continued her escape, squirming her way free after she was pulled back the first time. The ropes were close, a safe haven, a brief respite…

No. No, no, no. Down she went again, dragged back, with a hearty smack on her ass for the troubles, one that brought a mewling shriek from her wailing lips. She clawed at the canvas in vain, eyes pleading, desperate babbling, but none of it got her anywhere, none of it stopped the huntress from mounting her legs and taking hold.

She thrashed about in an ineffective struggle as Lacramioara asserted her control, seizing her arm and wrenching it high up her back, while her face was forced into the canvas. Even still, she reached out with her spare arm, as if it might grow ten feet long by some bizarre miracle.

She buried her face into the floor, panting and heaving, as Lacramioara’s steaming breath pouring over her neck. Dizzy was trapped. Helpless. A crippled rabbit, stuck in the wolf’s jaws, waiting for the inevitable bite. But in the shadows, she played a deeper game. The hammerlock would’ve shut down any offense she could’ve hoped for in a traditional match, but here, where more interesting options were available.

A little higher, a little lower. Yes, right there. Dizzy’s hand moved was a guided weapon, seeking out one of her favorite targets. Her tiny fingers found Lacramioara’s breasts and latched on for a loving caress. Pressing, squeezing, massaging, kneading the flesh with practiced ease through her clothes, working it better than most could with bare flesh.

All while never letting her facade slip - still very much the wayward little girl, as far as the cameras were concerned. ”I-I am not…I’m not afraid.” She spoke with the stuttering words of a girl who very much was. Feigned defiance, embers of rebellion that needed to snuffed. ”No…no!”

Face down, legs pinned, an arm effectively rendered useless despite its freedom. This seemed a good time to stick a fork in Dizzy and start chowing down. And in standard match, that would've true. But with Hentai rules in effect, and her having plenty of experience being bound...

That she was able to find her way to her chest so quickly, touching her better than some past lovers had with a straightforward presentation was all the evidence that Eveline needed of this. And here she believed that she was kinky six years ago. But then again, she was the one putting the cuffs on. Incredulity gripped both ends of her jaw and kept her mouth hanging open until she was finally unable to suppress a smile. A little laugh. Lacramioara couldn't help it; the skill, and the sheer audacity...!

"You..." The wolf's voice was low and dangerous as her hand moved from her neck to claim its fill of her brown hair. With a tug, her head would be brought back, exposing her neck completely. "Mark my words, you little minx: You will be by the end of the night!" Her other arm would move like it had been transformed into a boa, wrapping around her little neck and squeezing tightly. Though not full force.

The rest was automatic. Cinch it in with the other arm, get her legs around the waist, and turn until she was on her back. Dizzy would be able to do little more than squirm now, trapped in a most sensual cocoon. Curly hair tickling her face as they lay practically cheek to cheek, full breasts pressing into her back, hands free to set their course along her lace-clad legs and wherever else that surprising dexterity might allow her to reach...

She'd only have so long before the air ran out and the next phase of her punishment began, but Lacramioara had the feeling that there might be some more sexy ingenuity to come from the younger of the Belti duo. What else would she do with those hands? What would she say if she were to relieve the pressure, just a tad? What other surprises did she have in store?

Dizzy didn’t have many things going for her as a wrestler - too short, too skinny, too weak. But if there was one thing she could rely on from the beginning, it was her flexibility. She had always been a more dextrous woman than most, able to bend further and stay comfortable in positions that should’ve been anything but. Granted, she’d learned that flexibility through experiences that had absolutely nothing to do with traditional pro wrestling, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t any crossover.

It served her well, here. Lacramioara might’ve had her down, but there was a vast difference between being on top and being in control, as she suspected they both knew well. Even like this, Dizzy knew how to work a woman’s body with practiced ease, fondling her foe’s ripe breasts, playing them like a fine instrument, and making sweet music.

The response was swift, decisive, immediate, everything she had hoped for. It had been a good while since Dizzy’d had her hair pulled - most women treated her too delicately to give it a good yank, and she kept it so short that they often overlooked it. Not Lacramioara. She pulled her strands back hard, straining the scalp. The tiny Italian made a shocked, shrieking squeak, her face wrinkling with strained pain, but there was no hiding the undercurrent of pleasure beneath. Thankfully, an arm clamped tight around her throat before that could get out of hand and ruin the illusion, turning her gasping groans into mumbled moans.

Her eyes shot wide with feigned panic and genuine surprise as they rolled over, pulled into a constricting hold. Strong, sinuous thighs clamped tight around her midsection, while the arm came in tighter and gave Dizzy a taste of the vampiress’ true strength. There’d be no getting out of this, not even if she wanted to.

So it was a good thing, then, that she genuinely did not want to. Her face told the story of the trapped little lamb, but this was a delight in every way. Those thighs around her waist, those breasts against her back, that hot flesh against her cheek. Lacramioara was everywhere, Lacramioara was absorbing her. It felt like her body was being wrapped in the woman’s flesh, and she welcomed every moment of it.

It had not escaped her notice that the woman chose a hold that left her arms free, either. Given the many, many holds she could’ve taken from her starting position, Dizzy guessed that was no accident. No, that was an invitation, and it was one she wouldn’t waste.

But there was so much of her touch, wasn’t there? What to do, what to do.

The legs were the obvious, easy answer; with them wrapped so tightly around her waist and in easy reach, they demanded her attention. She eagerly gave it to them, bringing one hand to the woman’s thigh and pressing against it, ineffectively pushing the crushing thigh.

That was what it would look like to the casual observer, at least, but the more discerning eye might notice that her hand was much less occupied with pushing and much more interested with pressing. Her fingers danced along Lacramioara’s thigh, molding it like a sculpture with clay, massaging every muscle, her tiny digits pressing into the skin. Her other hand found itself on a stealthier mission, as it slid around her opponent’s thigh, traveled upwards, and found a ripe ass to possessively grasp, clutching it tight and digging in with her claws.

All the while, she continued to buck, putting up a furious struggle, but with motions that weren’t designed for escape. She thrust backwards, grinding along Lacramioara’s lap, a hard and steady grind that would’ve had some strippers taking notes. Even with the choke robbing her of air and pushing her towards a hazy unconsciousness, she had the wherewithal to crank her neck back and squeeze out a single, wheezing word, one that the cameras wouldn’t catch.

”Harder.”

Almost! Dizzy had almost given up the game. They both have. And that thought introduced another spark to the proceedings: For how long could they keep up this dance before somebody slipped, or they both did? If it's both, who will make the other crack first?

Enough for it to be seen by the cameras and the audience. Eveline wasn't counting these sly maneuvers that hid their faces -- or at least their mouths -- from view. She herself used her hair to cover hers. Hissed for effect and turned towards Dizzy's neck, like she was contemplating sinking those fangs into it, and let the curls do the rest. She really would let the fangs touch and prod, but they wouldn't break the skin.

"You're good." Her voice had softened to what the younger girl heard near the building's entrance, where either trusted or inconsequential ears were there to listen. For this one second, this was Eveline Morasanu that Dizzy was hearing. The two words were breathed out, containing a healthy dose of her arousal.

Dizzy's touch was one thing on its own. The creativity and opportunism she was showing in the heat of the moment was making it something special. She wanted to shift her position underneath her so her ass would be grinding into her more directly, but alas, she has a part to play. Which made her think: Is Dizzy playing the same game she is now?

Lacramioara pulled her head back, letting her hair fall out of her face. "Maybe I should turn you, so you can spend an eternity under my heel!" And right on cue, she lifted one leg up, lined said stocking-clad heel up, and brought it down...right between the legs. Like the choke, it didn't have her everything behind it. But it would drive more of that precious oxygen out of her lungs for sure. She'd tighten her hold on Dizzy here, just as she wanted, making sure that she stayed right there in her clutches.

Following that, she'd put some sole into it, starting with a well-measured, practiced application of pressure on her aching quim, and then..."But you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Back. And forth. Back. And forth. All along the length of her nether lips and just beyond, making sure that wonderful bundle of nerves sitting above them didn't feel left out.

‘You’re good’.

Lacramioara could’ve said a thousand things that would’ve turned Dizzy on. With a voice like hers, she could’ve made an instruction manual sound like a bodice ripper, lathering her words with that thick, smothering accent. The way it tickled her skin, made her shiver, slithered its way into her brain and sunk it claws in, it was the best ASMR she could’ve asked for.

But those words, those simple words, gave Dizzy more of a thrill than she could’ve ever hoped for. She was always a glutton for compliments, especially when they were coming from the rare women she expected. An absolute sex goddess like this giving her props? It almost brought an uncharacteristic smile to her face, but she could keep it under control. For now. Her fangirling could wait until after the cameras were off.

She kept her futile struggling, making sure to rub against Lacramioara as much as she could, getting the most out of every contact. She had more experience with this sort of thing than most - needless to say, but it wasn’t uncommon for a lover to pin her tiny self down, asserting dominance on the little waif theyd brought to bed. She’d mastered the art of struggling without struggling, though she doubted she could’ve gotten free if she wanted to.

With legs like this around her, she didn’t much want to.

Lacramioara wasn’t one to rest on her laurels, and while Dizzy was disappointed - for a moment - when those legs unfurled, she was satisfied again when her foot came down between her legs, a straight shot to her most tender spot. That ripped a noise from the tiny Italian, a sharp yelp that quickly bled into a low moan, as Lacramioara’s deft foot went to work.

Soft strokes. Up. Down. Up. Down. The woman worked a heaven rhythm, pedaling her to pleasure, and Dizzy’s hips moved up to meet every touch. ”Oh…oh god!” Dizzy filled her voice with desperation, despair, as if her own body was rebelling against her and seeking out pleasure without her permission. One hand came up to meekly claw at the woman’s grip, while the other reached down, but her fumbling grip was barely able to touch Lacramioara’s foot as it continued its sinful work. ”Stop! Monster, stop this!”

Hm. They probably should’ve established a safe word or something. Eh, Lacramioara was smart enough to tell the difference. Alix wouldn’t trust her so much if she weren’t the best.