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

[Letta]

When Laxia slowly turned her head, the vanished luchadora was standing directly behind her...! It had never occurred to the noblewoman that Bandita might have leapt clean over her. Unable to comprehend the seemingly magical spectacle unfolding before her, Laxia could only stare in bewilderment. Bandita glanced back over her shoulder and sent her a playful wink. Laxia stared back with visible frustration, though the confusion written across her face far outweighed her irritation. Leaving the baffled noblewoman little time to process what had happened, Bandita spun around with rhythmic, dance-like steps. Before Laxia fully realized it, the luchadora had already closed the distance between them. Bandita seized her by the arm and the nape of her neck, forcing Laxia to turn back toward the unforgiving corner turnbuckles. And then..

*THUD...!*

“KYAAA...!!”

Bandita pulled Laxia’s head back before driving her brow into the turnbuckle pad, tearing a short cry from the noblewoman’s lips. But that was only the beginning.

*THUD...!!*

“AAARGH!..!!!”

*THUD...!!*

“GAAAH...!!”

Again and again, Laxia’s head was driven into the turnbuckle, each impact wrenching another pained groan from her. She remained completely unaware of the surprising care Bandita took with every blow, subtly adjusting the angle of Laxia’s head so that her nose, lips, and eyes never struck the padding directly. The young luchadora’s quiet consideration went entirely unnoticed. All Laxia knew was that each collision left her increasingly dazed and disoriented. Even while her brow repeatedly met the corner, she could not stop trying to deduce precisely what sort of magic Bandita had used to disappear from her sight. Yet every fresh impact rattling her skull only scattered her thoughts further, making the mystery, and everything else around her even more confusing.

“Uuugh...”

By the time the disapproving referee approached, the repeated impacts had finally come to an end. Laxia remained slumped against the corner, her thoughts still swimming from the succession of blows. Behind her, Bandita began arguing with the official, insisting that she had done nothing illegal. Their voices reached Laxia only as distant, muffled sounds, the actual words slipping past her before her dazed mind could make any sense of them. The noblewoman could only shake her head weakly, one hand rising toward her aching brow as she struggled to steady the arena spinning around her.

[CyanDimitrik]

Satisfied that the referee wasn't going to give her the business, Bandita turns around to Laxia again. Without missing a beat, she takes her by the arm and shoulder to manually turn her around and lean her back into the corner, confident that the other girl will be pleasingly pliable for more punishment. It wouldn't do to have her resisting her, after all!

With Laxia propped against the rectangular pad, she proceeds to hang her left arm over the top rope first, then the right arm, both with the express purpose of leaving her body open. There are two things Bandita likes to focus her offense on, for two distinct reasons. The first being the head - it's hard to keep up with her on a good day. It's impossible to keep up with her when someone is disoriented! And hitting the head can ultimately lead to a knockout fastest, making it easy to pin someone! The other one, though? The belly. That's where a person's ability to kick out of pins originates, where their ability to resist lifts comes from, and is even needed for lifting strength! If the gut is in too much pain, or the abdominals refuse to engage from too much abuse, that's also an easy pin! To wit, both of her finishers focus on one or the other.

But right now? It's the belly she's swapping to.

Bandita leans in close, grabbing ahold of the middle ropes at either side of her waist. With a sharp pull, the Latina rockets her shoulder forward to slam into Laxia's unprotected stomach. The first impact is quick, a thump meant to cause her midsection to clench in shock and hopefully relax again. The second impact she reels into is harder, more forceful, her shoulder driving deep into her midsection. She draws back for a second, ideally giving Laxia a chance to inhale before shoving herself forward again with her boots digging into the mat. This impact grinds in, the smoothly toned muscles into her arms flexed as she continually pulls. The pressure doesn't relent on the third shoulderthrust, instead seeking to test the firmness of Laxia's attractive stomach and her abdominal tone. To force it to cave inwards in agonizing pressure.

[Letta]

One after the other, Bandita draped Laxia’s arms over the top ropes, leaving the noblewoman propped helplessly against the corner. Laxia shook her throbbing head, desperately trying to clear away the dizziness still clouding her thoughts. The arena seemed to sway from side to side, its lights and colors bleeding together into a disorienting blur. In front of her, the luchadora firmly gripped the middle ropes on either side of Laxia’s waist. It was obvious that she intended to continue her assault without delay. Yet Laxia remained completely defenseless. By the time her blurred vision finally began to sharpen and Bandita’s face came back into focus, her wake-up call arrived in a form she never could have anticipated. Bandita suddenly pulled hard against the ropes and thrust her shoulder forward,

*THUD!*

“Ooghh...!!”

The luchadora’s shoulder slammed deep into Laxia’s toned abdomen. The violent impact drove every last trace of air from her lungs, making Laxia’s blue eyes fly wide. Her entire body jolted against the corner, and her fingers instinctively curled around the top ropes. At the same time, a breathless groan burst from her lips as though the air had been forcibly crushed out of her. It was almost as though Bandita were mocking the spear Laxia herself had attempted moments earlier, returning it in a shorter, more compact form. The impact that should have buried itself deep in Bandita’s stomach was now punishing Laxia instead. For several agonizing seconds, Laxia could do nothing but hang against the corner with her mouth open. Her lungs seemed incapable of drawing in even the slightest breath. Her hardened abdomen clenched sharply around the point of impact, desperately trying to protect what lay beneath.

Bandita drew back. Laxia remained frozen against the turnbuckles, suppressing the pain until her body could endure it no longer. At last, she sucked in a sharp, desperate breath, her chest expanding as the tension in her abdominal muscles loosened ever so slightly. That was precisely the opening Bandita had been waiting for. The luchadora drove herself forward again, this time with a far heavier and more punishing shoulder thrust.

“Puughh...!!”

Bandita’s shoulder sank into Laxia’s abdomen with far greater weight than before. It struck at the exact moment her defenses had relaxed. The noblewoman’s body folded around Bandita’s shoulder. An uncontrollable groan tore from her lips as a wave of nausea churned violently through her stomach. Tears immediately gathered at the corners of her eyes, while a thin strand of saliva slipped from her parted lips and scattered into the air with the force of the impact. It was an astonishingly heavy blow to come from such a small and slender chiquita. But that force had not been created through brute strength alone. It was the combined result of her arms pulling against the ropes, her legs driving into the canvas, and the precise timing with which she struck the instant Laxia’s abdominal muscles relaxed.

Ordinarily, Laxia’s reliable, well-conditioned abs would have stood firm against an attack like this. But Bandita’s carefully staggered rhythm gave them no opportunity to brace properly. The first impact had shocked them into tightening. The second had struck at the precise moment that tension released. The defenses Laxia took such pride in were being dismantled not by raw power, but by timing. “"Guhh... *cough* ... mmgh..."

Laxia dragged in one ragged breath after another, unable even to clutch the abdomen already throbbing from the two powerful blows. Her knees trembled weakly beneath her, but the top ropes remained hooked beneath her arms, keeping her upright. Because of that, she remained trapped and fully exposed. Her body already recognized the danger. Her pride, however, still refused to accept that she was being overwhelmed by this smaller luchadora. Then Bandita struck for a third time. “Uuuuugh..!”

The luchadora’s shoulder crashed violently into Laxia’s unstable abdomen before it had any chance to recover. But this time, Bandita did not immediately pull away. Still gripping the middle ropes, she continued hauling herself forward. Her shoulder ground deeper and deeper into the noblewoman’s stomach. Under the relentless pressure, Laxia’s abdomen was crushed between Bandita’s shoulder and the turnbuckle behind her. “Aaaaghh...!!” Laxia folded completely around the attacking shoulder like a closing book. Her orange hair spilled forward around her face as another helpless cry slipped from her lips. The unrelenting pressure forced her abdomen inward. Every attempt to inhale only made it feel as though Bandita’s shoulder were burrowing deeper into her. Unable to free her arms from the ropes, Laxia instead clawed desperately at them with her fingers. Her boots scraped frantically across the canvas, while her legs trembled and flailed as though her body were searching for any possible means of escape. But trapped between the unforgiving corner and Bandita’s driving shoulder, there was nowhere for her to go. Ungh... I... cannot breathe...

[CyanDimitrik]

Bandita does not revel in hearing the pained cries of her battered opponent. Each thrust of her shoulder ramming hard into Laxia's belly earning that involuntary and likely undignified sound from the noble's mouth doesn't fill her with a particular joy for its own sake. But it does make her feel good. It does make her feel strong. This is a full contact sport, competitive at the highest caliber, where only the most skilled, strongest, and determined survive. She's been beaten up plenty of times in her career already, made to yield pained sounds even tonight. But it's always proof positive of things going right when the other woman is doing it. And it's a thrill for the audience, as well - two women, putting their bodies on the line in a physical contest for dominance.

What's not to love?

The smooth skin of Laxia's midsection is pressed into, the warmth of her stomach inviting enough a space for Bandita's shoulder. Andas she presses in and grinds against her, she takes the opportunity to appreciate the muscletone she can feel in her. It's incredible, being so poised, so fancy, but having such an athletic body. She imagines she's proud of it. Bandita would be, too! The seconds tick on as Bandita's darker-hued stomach buried firmly against the pit of Laxia's stomach, feeling her desperately thrash in protest. Before finally, she pulls back with a sharp withdrawal!

She doesn't want Laxia dropping, however! Her hand moves quickly to the other girl's chin to raise her head and straighten her back, to lead her to lean more heavily into that rectangular padding. Higher still, Bandita attempts to tip her head back to bare her throat to her - or more importantly, her unprotected body once more.

The thought crosses her mind briefly to pre-load what she's about to do with an apology. This tends to sting quite horribly, and being a luchadora, she's both received and delivered this exact thing many, many times. She's caused people to cringe and collapse as many times as she's cringed and dropped to her knees, herself. But tonight? Tonight, this American princesa is going to feel the full force of la lucha libre. She, however, would not be doing that. Laxia would surely be insulted by it. It would downplay the importance of the match, it would risk dishonoring her! After the kick she'd given her, she can't think of her as anything less than a real competitor in the ring!

But in this position, with Laxia's head pushed back, Bandita leans in closer to her. Her chest lightly presses to the other woman's, breasts gently mashing to breasts as her head lifts to murmur:

"'Dis is gonna sting."

Then, she's leaning back. Her hand withdraws and cocks back, crossing her right arm over her chest all the way to bringing her hand to her left shoulder. And instantly, the hand lashes out again, blazing the ridge of her hand against the soft, inviting flesh of Laxia's exposed upper-chest. Not the breasts! She wouldn't dare to that! That would be.. well, evil. Tawdry. Downright unnecessary and disrespectful! No, the knife-edge chop aims to sear across the skin just above the swell of her endowment, to issue forth a LOUD *SNAP* into the air.

[Letta]

The luchadora’s shoulder continued grinding deep into Laxia’s abdomen, forcing her muscles to scream beneath the relentless pressure. She had no idea how much longer she would have to keep her abs tensed in a desperate attempt to lessen the pain. Still, Laxia knew that Bandita could not possibly maintain this position forever. Clinging to that single certainty, the noblewoman somehow endured. At last, Bandita’s shoulder withdrew from her stomach. Laxia immediately bowed her head and dragged in one desperate breath after another.

But her relief lasted only a moment. She felt Bandita’s fingers take hold beneath her chin and forcibly lift her head. The luchadora did not stop there, tilting Laxia’s head even farther back before guiding her upright against the turnbuckles. With her back straightened against the padded corner, Laxia squinted into the dazzling arena lights overhead while ragged breaths spilled from her lips. Her sweat-slicked body gleamed beneath the arena lights. For some reason, Bandita had placed her in a far more comfortable position. Surely she had not done so merely to give Laxia a chance to rest. Then what was she...

While the noblewoman’s thoughts raced, Bandita suddenly pressed herself close. Her soft breasts pressed gently against Laxia’s ample pair as the luchadora leaned toward her ear and whispered. Her warmth. The softness of her body. Even the sweet murmur gently tickling Laxia’s ear... It is going to sting? What in the world does she mean...? Ahh... and yet this was so unexpectedly warm and comfortable. Laxia knew better than anyone that such thoughts had no place in the middle of a match. But the close contact, combined with this brief respite after the merciless assault upon her abdomen, caused the tension in her body to loosen despite herself. And in that very instant, Bandita’s vicious chop cracked across Laxia’s defenseless upper chest like the lash of a whip..!

“Kyaaaaah....!!”

The sharp report of flesh striking flesh echoed throughout the arena, followed by a piercing cry from Laxia that could hardly have sounded less dignified. The knife-edge chop made her entire body jolt against the turnbuckles, her ample breasts visibly jiggling from the impact. Only then did Bandita’s warning finally make sense. A deep blush spread across Laxia’s face. It was not merely the pain that embarrassed her, but the high-pitched, utterly undignified cry that had escaped her lips, and the knowledge that everyone in the arena had witnessed her body react so helplessly to the blow.

Laxia knew perfectly well that this was a legitimate professional wrestling technique. She had witnessed it used frequently in other matches and had seen countless wrestlers practicing it during her own pre-debut training. But... She had never imagined that today, it would be used against her. And the technique was far more painful than it appeared from the outside. There was also something about a chop like this that stirred a particular kind of woman-to-woman rivalry within Laxia. It felt almost akin to trading slaps across the face. The strike seemed like more than a simple attack. It was a bold, physical challenge, one that demanded an answer in kind. Perhaps that was why chops so often led to fierce exchanges whenever they appeared in other matches, with neither woman willing to be the first to yield. It might not have felt that way to everyone. But to Laxia, it most certainly did.

Fighting desperately to keep the tears, already gathered from the earlier assault on her abdomen and now drawn out further by the burning sting across her chest from spilling down her cheeks, Laxia crossed one arm protectively over her stinging, throbbing upper chest and glared at Bandita through watering eyes. Her other hand rose to gently rub the vivid red mark spreading across her skin. At last, Laxia was receiving a proper taste of the sharp, spicy sting of la lucha libre...!

[CyanDimitrik]

It wasn't intended, but that brief press into Laxia's chest was a nice respite. Not that Bandita has ever had an experience like that, no context with which to put it into perspective. Just the tacit awareness that Laxia is extremely pretty, with beautiful eyes and a flawless body. She'd felt the press of the woman's chest against her own twice before, once in the belly-to-belly suplex, another when she was pinning her. This time, it was more elective. Less necessary. And in the back of her mind, maybe a little indulgent getting close to her. Enough so to feel the heat off her skin. Striking her chest was a subtle thrill, itself. No intention to be scandalous! But-- well, the young Latina couldn't help but feel a quick twinge of enjoyment from the whipping, lashing contact in that brief second it lasted.

The audience roars with the alarmingly loud SLAP of skin to skin contact, and loving the way Laxia reacted to the impact. It hurt. It had to hurt.

Bandita turns aside while Laxia seems to be trying to catch her breath with the impact, presenting herself to the audience on her right with both arms raised and a beaming smile. Their cheers wash over the two of them, themselves whipped into a fervor at the sight of Laxia's regal body suffering under the ministrations of the youthful, spunky rogue appealing to them.

There are a few chants starting to rise for it to repeat.

"ONE MORE TIME! ONE MORE TIME!"

Bandita's eyes pop open at that. The knee-jerk desire to satisfy the audience is profound and demanding, and she turns quickly to Laxia. But that look is enough to put a pause on the impulse. Does she want to abuse her like that? Maybe it wouldn't be abuse so much as fan service, drilling a weakened area. But it feels sort of... mean... in this precise moment. And soon, a softer, more secret smile warms her face, intended just for Laxia's benefit. Those green eyes find the crystal blues, meeting for just a moment. Womanly telepathy; a message to be conveyed with only a sweet look. No words spoken, but are words needed? It's a subtle promise to not put her through that a second time, at least not here and now. Not as an act of mercy perhaps so much as respect. Or admiration? The feeling is starting to get blurred in her heart.

She leans in again, settling her left hand around Laxia's graceful neck. The other hand takes hold of her arm left arm just above the elbow. Bandita leans in against her to first press her back into the corner, then reels back and torques, whipping Laxia towards the opposite corner of the ring!!

Her hips cock, and she blows a chasing kiss after Laxia's made landing; playfully coy, completely on brand for La Bonita Bandolera. But it's decidedly quicker, to give Laxia as little time as possible to gather her bearings. Because in the next instant, Bandita is a dizzying whirl of motion, first dashing a couple steps forward before pitching herself into a cartwheel tumble, and rounding off into a back handspring! The fully distance covered should close the gap of the ring's span, but most importantly, that fully wound momentum drives towards the center of Laxia's hopefully waiting chest or back with a crashing reverse elbow, the teen throwing herself fully into it.

[Letta]

After landing the knife-edge chop, Bandita raised both arms high and beckoned for the crowd’s approval. The audience immediately answered with an explosive roar. At that same moment, Laxia’s fierce glare at Bandita appeared across the arena’s giant screen. As though sensing the subtle rivalry flaring between the two women, the crowd only grew more excited. They seemed to be anticipating a heated exchange of chops between them, their chant growing steadily louder and clearer until it filled the entire arena. Laxia listened to their voices and quietly prepared herself. Fine... bring it on...

If Bandita struck her with another chop, then this time Laxia would answer with one of her own, returning the blow directly across the luchadora’s chest. With that thought, the fire of competition began burning once more within Laxia’s crystal-blue eyes. But then Bandita looked toward her with a soft, secretive smile. The instant their gazes met, the flames blazing in Laxia’s glare gradually began to settle. Not a single word passed between them, yet that fleeting exchange of looks was enough for her to understand. Bandita would not attempt the same chop again. Then what was she planning now...? Countless possibilities flashed through Laxia’s mind, only for Bandita to suddenly press herself close once more. “Aah...!”

Laxia’s body was squeezed between Bandita and the turnbuckles, drawing a small moan from her lips. But it lasted only a moment. Bandita immediately seized her, twisted with force, and sent Laxia hurtling toward the opposite corner of the ring! “W--Whoa...!” Laxia stumbled into a rapid sprint across the center of the ring, carried forward by the force of Bandita’s throw. When she realized that the opposite turnbuckles were rapidly closing in, she barely managed to turn herself around at the final instant. Her back slammed hard against the padded corner.

THUD...!

The impact made her body jolt slightly against the turnbuckles. Meanwhile, Bandita cocked one hip playfully and blew a teasing kiss toward Laxia across the ring. It was playful, coy, and unmistakably La Bonita Bandolera. But Bandita did not linger to enjoy the crowd’s reaction. Before Laxia could even fully register the luchadora’s showmanship, Bandita had already kicked off the canvas and charged toward her. When Laxia raised her gaze again and tried to regain her bearings, she found herself watching Bandita’s body whirl through a dazzling cartwheel. “What in the...?” Bandita carried that momentum seamlessly into a roundoff, then launched herself into a back handspring, tracing a graceful arc through the air. One spectacular movement flowed into the next without giving Laxia even a moment to breathe. The noblewoman had no idea what the luchadora intended to do next. She could only follow Bandita’s graceful, dizzying trajectory with her eyes, utterly captivated by the display unfolding before her. And by the time she realized what was coming, it was already far too late. With all the momentum of her spins and leaps compressed into the attack, Bandita’s elbow crashed directly into the center of Laxia’s chest!

“AAAAAHH...!!”

Once again, Laxia’s eyes flew wide as the impact drove deep into her chest, tearing a pained scream from her lips. Bandita had aimed squarely for her sternum, just as she might have against any other opponent. On a man, or a flatter-chested woman, the elbow might have landed there cleanly. But against Laxia’s fuller figure, even a perfectly centered blow inevitably compressed the soft curves surrounding its target. Her ample breasts might have softened the collision somewhat. Or perhaps, with the way they had been crushed beneath Bandita’s elbow, they had only given her that much more to hurt. For one suspended instant, Bandita’s elbow seemed frozen against Laxia’s chest, the point of impact visibly compressed beneath it. At the same time, both of Laxia’s legs lifted cleanly from the canvas, hanging motionless as though the entire collision had been captured in a single frozen frame. For the briefest instant, everything seemed to stop. Then, as time began moving once more, Laxia’s body slid weakly down the turnbuckles. She finally sank into a seated position in the corner, both arms draped over the middle ropes as she fought to keep herself from collapsing completely. Each ragged breath made her aching chest rise and fall visibly beneath her attire, still trembling faintly from the collision. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, while only harsh, pained breaths escaped between her lips. “Uuugh...”

[CyanDimitrik]

That icy look was noted. It wasn't entirely unexpected, either. Chops hurt. A lot. Especially when done right. And if a luchadora is worth anything, it should be her chopping skill. Mexican Lumberjill, that's what she is! ...Or something she's joked about before, at least. Still, she was glad to see the fire seem to dim a little with the look.

She wants Laxia to be competitive with her, because that's what makes professional wrestling spectacular. But she doesn't want her angry with her. She's done nothing to warrant that kind of animosity with the beautiful ginger, even after she'd kicked her square in the face. That's the magic of professional wrestling, isn't it? The ability to be rough, violent, and forceful with each other, and yet not hate each other? Ay, there's so much to love about the sport~! Especially the incredible people she gets to wrestle in the meantime!

Another, equally amazing facet, is the freedom to be the kind of showman she wants to be. To feel the wind whipping against her bare skin, to hear the audience cheering in amazement and fascination, it was all pure energy! And for a girl with some self-esteem issues outside of the ring, it's downright addictive. And to hear the crowd continuing that incredible static-y white noise of approval as she blasts her elbow back into Laxia's ample chest, who could blame her for lingering a couple extra seconds?

When she withdraws and Laxia slides down, she leans over onto her hands and knees with an open smile, her long, straight ponytail sliding over her left shoulder. Her shoulders rise and fall noticeably with each heavier breath, the eyes positively sparkling at the other girl, her form faintly silhouetted against the bright overhead lights.

To Bandita's confused amusement, Laxia looks... cute... in this state. Vulnerable, dazed, and painstakingly natural. No airs, no pretenses, just a stunningly beautiful girl resting in a slump.

"Like I said before. 'Dat was my line." Her head tilts to the side, eyes squinting in mirthful cheer. "Mind if I lead our dance now, princesa?"

Reaching down, the Latina hooks her hands beneath Laxia's arms. She pulls her up to her feet with a soft huff of effort, but isn't bothering to raise her to her full height. Rather, when she raises her to a bent position, she turns at the wrap her right arm tight around the ginger's jaw in a secure side headlock. She holds the girl's cheek snug against the side of her abdomen, skin faintly dewy with the first signs of sweat, as she lifts her left arm to signal to the audience.

And then they're off! Both arms holding Laxia around the head, Bandita rushes a couple steps forward with her captive before leaping high into the air, kicking her legs out from under herself, and dropping in a deep plunge to drive Laxia chest-and-stomach-first against the mat in an elevated bulldog!

[Letta]

With both arms draped over the middle ropes as she barely kept herself upright, Laxia drew in one ragged breath after another and thought. To think Bandita could perform an attack so spectacular, yet so effective. She could not help but be impressed. The luchadora’s movements were beautiful enough to captivate the eye, but the force behind them was anything but light. Before Laxia had even realized it, the smaller woman’s relentless combination of attacks had left her completely overwhelmed. For a moment, Laxia found herself wondering what Bandita might be thinking as she fought this match. Of course, Laxia had pressed her hard during the opening stages. And... She had also driven a kick directly into the chin beneath that pretty face. But surely Bandita, who had entered the world of professional wrestling before her, understood that none of it had been done out of malice. Laxia held no ill will toward Bandita. And she knew Bandita held none toward her, either.

Such things did not always need to be explained aloud. When two wrestlers collided and tangled their bodies together inside the ring, intentions like those could be understood naturally. She had already sensed as much from the warm handshake they had shared before the match and the sincerity she had seen in Bandita’s eyes. Of course, the luchadora’s habit of calling her princesa and treating her like some pampered little princess had irritated Laxia somewhat. But even that had served as a stimulating spice, one that only made the contest burn hotter. Rather than face some dull opponent and end the match without resistance, this was exactly the sort of competition Laxia herself had wanted. An opponent worth challenging. A truly worthy rival capable of drawing everything out of her. If Bandita intended to meet her with such fierce intensity, then Laxia planned to answer with no less intensity of her own. And she suspected Bandita felt much the same.

However... At this particular moment, the match was undeniably unfolding in Bandita’s favor. Still wincing from the dull, throbbing pain in her chest, Laxia slowly opened her eyes. Bandita was directly in front of her, staring down at her with a bright smile. “Uuugh...” The short groan that escaped Laxia’s lips sounded almost like an answer accepting the dance Bandita had offered. The luchadora immediately bent down and began pulling her back to her feet. She had asked for a dance. The dance Laxia had been leading until now had come to a temporary halt. It was Bandita’s turn to guide the two of them. Whether it would become a passionate tango or a breathless, whirlwind salsa remained to be seen. But one thing was certain. It would not be a slow, graceful waltz. Once Laxia had been raised halfway upright, Bandita wrapped her right arm around the noblewoman’s head and trapped her in a firm side headlock.

Laxia’s cheek was crushed tightly against the luchadora’s toned flank, the soft flesh helplessly distorting beneath the pressure. She grabbed at the right arm imprisoning her head with both hands, desperately trying to pry it loose. But with her head secured so tightly, Laxia’s view remained fixed on nothing but the canvas ahead of her. Then another enormous roar erupted from the audience. Unable to see what was happening with her head trapped in place, Laxia nevertheless realized that Bandita must have signaled the crowd, announcing the attack that was about to come. A sense of dread crept over her, and Laxia pulled even harder at the arm around her head. But the hold remained unyielding. “Nngh... let go...!” And at last, amid the thunderous cheers of the crowd, Bandita’s dance began. The luchadora surged forward with Laxia’s head trapped beneath her arm, forcing the noblewoman to stumble after her while struggling merely to keep pace with her lead. One step. Then another. And suddenly, Laxia felt both of her feet leave the canvas. Wait... am I in the air...? The thought had barely crossed her mind when Bandita kicked both legs forward and dropped her body downward. Still trapped by the head, Laxia was dragged helplessly into the fall with her. Her elevated body was driven straight into the canvas, chest and stomach striking first.

“AAAAGH...!!”

Laxia’s body hit the mat flat and bounced upward like a spring from the force of the impact before collapsing weakly back down again..! Pain tore through her chest and abdomen all at once, forcing her body to curl inward. Lying on her side, she clutched her throbbing stomach with one hand while pressing the other over her aching chest, writhing painfully against the canvas. “Uuughhh...”

[CyanDimitrik]

The plank boards beneath the ring's matted surface clatter loudly upon the impact of their bodies. But while Bandita had the good fortune to land on her pert backside at the end of her controlled descent, Laxia's feminine figure is slammed hard into that surface. The audience can feel the reverberation from the impact hit like a pulse, and they can all tell what's coming next.

Bandita would not disappoint them. Everyone can feel it. It's time to pin Laxia down.

In a smooth motion, Bandita rolls over on her hip to land on all fours. She's immediately studying the other girl's form lying on her side, reeling in pain from the landing. In any other context, Bandita would feel wrung out with guilt for making her feel that way. In any other context. But here? In this ring? This is what Laxia signed up for. And it's what Bandita signed up for. That makes this normally forbidden level of violence and brutality shared between them not only permissible, but encouraged. That, in itself, feels almost like a taboo thrill.

The two of them met in the ring tonight with the same intention; to wrestle with each other. To force and assert physical dominance over the other woman. They both knew one of them would end their night lying on their back, with the other woman lying over them, poised as the victor. And in this odd way, that only makes Laxia's writhing, clutching at her battered chest and beaten stomach, a unique kind of pretty. She's not looking at a victim. She's looking at a gladiator. A particularly beautiful one. One whose body she intends to, again, assert that physical dominance over. To end the night pinning down, in front of a roaring audience.

And that's just what she closes in to do.

Bandita takes Laxia by the shoulder to roll her over firmly onto her back. Then, still on hands and knees, the Latina crawls around to reposition herself at the ginger's right side. She first reaches for the arm covering her chest to manually raise it off of her chest for her and toss it aside. Then she seizes for the wrist of the arm covering her stomach to repeat the process, decidedly removing her arms from covering her body.

"We don't want anything in 'de way, do we?"

Bandita decidedly climbs across Laxia's midsection, positioning herself across her before dropping her arms and legs out from under her. Her bare belly settles directly across Laxia's, letting her toned abdominals settle against the other woman's. The sudden rush of skin contact briefly overtakes her mind, having previously admired the other girl's midsection and now feeling it in full. Whatever defensive pane of muscle the ginger had to bear, Bandita's own would be pressed into it. Laxia pinned her in a 't' shape before. For Bandita, it's a plus sign.

Her left forearm rests against the mat to keep her chest braced and balanced. Her legs spread to keep her lower balance, her hips tucked in lower to the mat at Laxia's right side. Bandita's right arm reaches back, drawing around the noblewoman's thigh in circumference, and her hand presses in against her inner-thigh. She flexes the arm to draw her toned leg into the air, hooking it up against the curve of her waist.

"There we go. Gotcha!"

With the visual feast of Bandita's body pressed across Laxia's and the leg hooked, the referee-girl drops down beside the two. Her hand raises, and swings down again to slap the mat close enough to Laxia's head to gently feather her fine hair.

"ONE!"