Vanessa I. Price vs. Angelina Tarrant - Torture Rack Match (Apex Qualifier)

[Dubski]

VIP kept pushing on those eyes of Angelina, trying to get her to just release her. At this point, she needed the girl to stop before she had entirely choked her out. She was a beast. She was a monster. She was vile. She was wicked in all the ways Vanessa would never lower herself to. She hated that about her--the absolutely barbaric and violent behavior. She couldn't imagine displaying that to the world, and yet Angelina did so willingly. But finally, she could breath again. The fashionista gasped loudly, putting her free hand to her throat as she coughed, sucking in air. And then she screamed again. "AHHHH!" Her thumb being bitten--bitten like she was fighting a rabid dog. A vile beast that needed being put down. And Price was close to that point with Vanessa.

The armbar came after, sending her flat as she yelled out again. "You fucking... DAMNIT!" yelled out VIP before coughing once more, trying to catch her breath as she looked for weaknesses in Angelina's application of the hold. None. She would need to find another way out. Despite taking the easy way out in matches, she was trained by the best money could buy. And when it came down to actually wrestling, Vanessa I. Price could absolutely go. But why put that much effort unless it was necessary?

This might have been a good enough of a reason--so it wouldn't be so necessary. Her arm being torn at, but she knew precisely how to counter. She wasn't strong enough to power through, but she had the more technical way. Taking a few more deeper breaths between moans of pain, Vanessa threw her entire body back to roll, twisting her own arm slightly while making it a bit more difficult for Angelina to hold on. On one knee, Tarrant's legs no longer held her down. And just deciding to will herself the rest of the way through this, she sucked in a deep breath and then stood up abruptly, pulling her trapped arm with her. And then she threw her leg back and then kicked forward with all of her might, aiming to jab the point of her boot directly into Tarrant's midsection.

[Monsy]

If I can’t have ya tooth, then I’ll take ya thumb.
Truthfully, that’s impossible. Still tried it anyway before taking them back into an armbar. Girl deserved it. Well, nah, it’s just how this boat rocks. No one is stopping so why hold back a molar or two? Some might criticise this, a hold that didn’t really have much end goal then to see this limb snapped. There are no tap outs. But, VIP didn’t seem to need that. She’s the real fuckin’ deal. At least she better be. Angelina took a watchful eye to that rolly shit. Her legs more clung around VIP’s arm than anything. She kept the wrist secure. It wasn’t tenable by any means, but, perhaps she can kick VIP's tricep, elbow or torque the wrist. Half her body was off the mat by then. Skirt also halfway to flipping up from the angle. VIP’s boot rescued that embarrassment. It sunk deep into her soft, small belly. It thudded through her organs and she felt it into her back. The skin rippled and her mouth gaped, throwing spittle into a wheeze as she seemed to deactivate and fall into a heap on her side. A mean mark is left there. Her eyes screw tight and she hisses, arms over her belly button that took the brunt.

[Dubski]

Vanessa's arm was finally released with the full on punt to Angelina's stomach. She immediately stumbled back, falling onto her behind as she held her arm, wide-eyed with worry for a moment. As she watched Tarrant lay there, her expression turned to one of more absolute fury, her teeth barred as she regarded the girl in front of her. "You... You... You...!"

Holding her arm still, VIP would then stand up, her body shaking from the absolute rage and pain of it all. She had gotten Tarrant to stop, but that was far from the end of it for her. "You monster! You dog! You filthy, filthy beast!" shrieked Price as she ran right over and threw a punt directly towards Angelina's face. No finesse or anything. Just a violent kick as she cradled her arm, wanting to deliver more pain to that redheaded barbarian. It wouldn't be the last of it, but it was her immediate thought after what she just went through.

[Monsy]

Got her arms kept tight to her body. Just hold for now. Work your way up. She smothered her face into the canvas, nose crunkled as she eased out her hands, pressing down by her horns to push off, just a tad at a time. "Me... Me... Me..." Said in this mocking, groggy and sing-song way. There wasn't an insult in the book she can toss. Her ears are already pretty swollen to tune them out. They tasted just fine, though. She'll gobble up being a monster, dog or filthy beast then hiccup from taking it all in too fast.

She got to her hands and knees, shoulders still slouching, but all the way up nonetheless. "Anything else?" Well -- one thing. A fucking punt that nearly took her head right off. You can see her face turn. Hell, it's so violent it looked like a snap. Spittle flings, you might even catch blood. From her hips to her brain, she felt fuzzy. One moment she's claritin clear, next, she has her cheek against the mat. Her knees stayed down. Ass up, face-down. Her arms went towards her hips, totally giving out. Drool seeped on the mat. She seemed to misplace her pupils somewhere in her skull after that, and she left to go find them. For now, Tarrant was babbling out groans and pathetic moans, mouth and eyes half-open, wet. "buhhhhhchuuu..."

[Dubski]

Vanessa I. Price liked to show at least a little more finesse and planning in her moves, but it turned out that this big kick was all she needed as Angelina's face was cracked. She seemed to be completely rattled, face down on the mat in a miserable state and even so, all VIP could do was glare down at her furiously. That pathetic girl trying to make a go at her like this--deplorable. The things she did to her... inexcusable. She'd make her pay. "You... will pay... dearly for this..." said Price in a menacing tone, her voice wavering from the sheer fury of it all. She would then grab hold of Tarrant by her hair, ripping her head up.

Then, Vanessa would use her good arm to drag Angelina towards the nearest ring ropes and throw the redhead over the middle rope. "We'll see how you like this!" screamed Vanessa, driving her knee down behind Angelina's head and her leg pressed down her spine as she began to choke the girl over the middle rope. She wanted her to feel that same suffocation that she felt. The burning in her lungs. She agonizing helplessness of it. She wanted Angelina to feel that fear and realize her mistake to do this to someone like Vanessa I. Price.

[Monsy]

That punt did six different numbers on her. Each long distance. It sent her swimming in something where sleeping pills weigh your limbs down, but you can’t quite go out on account of all the pain in your face. She’s hardly lifeful when ripped up, more a wooden doll with string joints, taken and tossed onto the middle rope, where the ever-flexible Tarrant nearly drips back down to the canvas. Instead, that knee pushing on her head, nape and spine kept her pinned.

Her throat felt a huge swelling. She opens her mouth and gags loudly, tongue on her bottom lip as she grabs the middle rope, loosely with a fish hooking middle finger. Her lungs get a punch from that sudden block. Her heart jumps at the speed bag and begins hammering. The pressure is felt in her eyes, which go wide, feeling like they grew against her skull. She begins to flail with her legs, simply pulling her knee in and kicking outward across the mat with a squeak. Drool came from her mouth as she seethes against her teeth, looking up, and at their mercy.

[Dubski]

Vanessa I. Price was incensed as she continued to drive her knee down on the back of Angelina, between the shoulders, choking her more and more on the middle rope. She deserved this--all of it. She wanted to see her suffer. But the referee had other ideas, counting for VIP to break the illegal move. Price waited until four and a half before grabbing that middle rope and giving it a hard yank, sending Tarrant flopping off of it and onto the mat.

"You do not tell me what to do!" screamed the fashionista, pointing in the referee's face as the referee spoke back to her. "And you don't talk to me in such a way, what is wrong with you!?" screamed the irate Vanessa, continuing to argue with the referee as she adjusted her position. Despite how angry Price was and how much she wanted to hurt Angelina, she still had her wicked wits about her to know precisely how to ensure she could enact as much of that pain as she could. She was hardly done with her.

"Do you think I don't know the rules!? Do you think I'm a simpleton!?" exclaimed Price to the referee. While she argued with the referee, it was merely a distraction. Her boot was down on top of the fallen Tarrant's throat as she applied a lot of pressure, trying to continue to choke her as she kept the referee looking up at her rather than down at the hurting redhead below her. As violent and wicked as Angelina Tarrant could get, Vanessa I. Price had that much in spades.

[Monsy]

Fuckin slimy fuckah. She’s almost in love.
Angelina came off the ropes like a pent-up rocket and splattered across the canvas, face-up and spread-eagle. Her hands went over to her raging throat that was just lynched by robust rope. It had her windpipe like a straw. Only to be stepped on again. This time. She babbled and groaned. You can hear her try to talk but make incoherent nonsense as she kicked with her little legs, looked up, gripped VIP’s ankle and became redder than a beet. The referee was no fucking help at all. That much was evident. Her trade worked to get around the stripes to have her play as well. Seeing another do it -- was -- wondrous, if not gave her all the incentive to bite back.

While she felt warm, achy and fuzzy, she looked up towards VIP’s skirt and began to smirk. Hmm. Considering the lack of rules. Our bitchdork of an opponent. She found little restraint in what came next. One of her knees pulled in, aiming her hard boot sole. She stopped struggling, already having made quite the image with drooling out her mouth-corners. "H-Heeeyyy. Dorkstick." Angelina forced out, raspy and almost a whisper. Then she thrusted, just once as hard as she can, aimed to bash this fashionista between the legs!

[Dubski]

Vanessa I. Price, despite looking and sounding furious (and being both of those things) was also very proud of herself for her effective choke behind the referee's back, keeping her boot on the neck of that ridiculous redheaded brat. As she continued to shout and scream at the referee, making very bombastic hand gestures to keep her from simply looking down and realizing her choking.

"And another thing, is there a reason they keep letting you here!? Every match you officiate, you are completely worth-aaaaaaaaah...!" suddenly, VIP's incessant insults stopped as her eyes went wide and her legs quivered. The boot that was choking Angelina loosened enough to let her breathe again. Price would then tremble as she stood, gasping for air as her hands went to reach out from the referee. She grabbed hold of the ref's collar, in shock and pain as she slowly sunk down to her knees, nearly dragging the referee with her as she let one hand down down to her wounded crotch, looking up at the referee as her teeth chattered, trying to muster the words.

"You... You... She just... illegally... low blow...!" mustered Vanessa, pointing a hand urgently behind her towards the downed Angelina as the referee looked on confused, missing the low blow entirely too. And Price had worn down any good will she may have had for her too, leaving the ref to simply step back, letting Price fall to her hands and knees as she squeaked out in pain, hanging her head.

Sucking in breath through her barred teeth, VIP muttered, "I will... obliterate you..." The venom through her staggered breaths was palpable, and she was prepared to unleash every bit of hate she could on Tarrant... at least when she was able to. Right now, she was just trying to cope with the pain from that wicked low blow.

[Monsy]

This shit sucked. She’s halfway to seeing Pirate Jesus and another half losing control of everything as she drooled out her mouth, becoming a tomato and looking more like a heap of lightweight noodles. If she missed that kick. Well. There probably wouldn’t have been a second. So when the boot came off her throat, first subtly then all together, suddenly, she slinked to the mat like a wet piece of pasta. A fire catches her windpipe, and having swallowed some itchy dust, she grabbed, rubbed and scratched her neck. She hacked and sucked in deep, attempting multiple times to catch a comfortable wind, and coughing out several times. When she finally shut her mouth, she still continued to cough on the inside.

“Wahhh. Waaaaah.” Said Angelina in a high-pitched tone as she pushed herself up. Her shoulders slumped in and she rolled them. One hand still went on her throat as she got onto her knees, then slowly back onto her feet.

It might as well have been an open menu here. Posh girl was hurt. She was up. Dinged. But with one more functional crotch. Call that a win. She took a boot and shoved it on VIP's shoulder, trying to knock her over before stepping on one of her ankles. “Was it this foot?” She asked, pursing her lips, “Nah.” Then she switched, bending over to pull on VIP’s leg, pulling it flat with one hand on the foot, the other on her knee, exposing the ankle. “It was this bitch.”

Then she took a raised boot and tried stomping right on the ankle.