L.A.W. - League of Anime Wrestling

Everybody knew what was coming next. The roaring crowds, her grinning opponent, and yes, even Kuroi, moaning and drooling as she lay across the table, knew what was coming next. Sheila wasn't being very subtle about her setup; any second now, the Wild One would be looking to rectify her failures from their last match with part two of her signature move. Only this time, Kuroi felt powerless to stop her.

As Sheila dragged her across the table, Kuroi's arms flopped uselessly at her sides. She offered little more than a humiliating squeal as her ass was slapped, the once proud martial artist reduced to a ragdoll draped roughly along the smooth surface of the barren desk. Her breaths came in short gasps, and she struggled to keep her eyes open, to keep focused on what was happening to her. Her vision was blurry, and she couldn't quite make out the shape looming over her. All she could hear was the roar of the crowd, cheering wildly as Sheila basked in her own impending glory.

A pair of gentle fingers stroked between the strands of her scalp, sending shivers coursing through her skin. That was until Sheila's digits took on a much more violent grip, curling around her hair and yanking her upwards with a brute show of dominance. Kuroi's body felt limp and weak as Sheila leaned in and kissed her hard, plunging her tongue deep into the red-head's mouth. The familiar sweetness of her opponent's taste flooded her senses, filling her with a lust to give back, to clash tongue with tongue, lips with lips. But her tongue lolled idly by, unable to put up any resistance as it was ruthlessly bashed by her much hungrier and stronger foe. Kuroi's lips were sealed shut, but Sheila's tongue was forceful, exploring every corner of her mouth. She tried to squirm and break free. Her fingers twitched, trying to grab onto something, anything to pull herself up, but her muscles were unresponsive. The edge of the table dug into her back, sending pinpoints of pain through her spine, but she choked back the distressed sounds gurgling deep inside her throat; she rather gag then moan to this bitch.

But then the kiss finally ended, leaving Kuroi gasping for breath, trying to catch her bearings. She was still lying flat on the announcer's table, and Sheila was standing over her, looking down with a devious grin that Kuroi hated seeing her opponent adorn. Her body bucked and sputtered, trying to steady itself amidst the aftershocks of the kiss. She forced her lungs to take slow, deep breaths, doing her best to relax her still-twitching muscles. All she could hope to do was replenish her strength before it was too late, before Sheila managed to accomplish what that stupid grin and gleaming eyes of hers promised she would.

Sheila rammed Kuroi’s head into the table, good and hard. Not enough to knock her straight out, but she was definitely on the path to La-La Land. Not moving anytime soon. Just what she needed. ”Don’t go anywhere.” She reached over and gave her opponent’s nose a quick flick of the finger. ”Be right back.”

Okay, that was done. Now, how was she going to do this?

Sheila looked about, trying to figure the best place to get some elevation. She could try to get on the barricade and run from there, but that was almost guaranteed to fail. She’d never had barricades like that back home, using low fences instead, so she’d never used anything like that. She didn’t have the best balance even when she was in good shape, and she was anything but that at the moment. There was no guarantee that she would even get high enough to put Kuroi through the table.

No, she had to go higher. Much higher. She pointed to the ring, and the crowd’s cheer reached a new height, with all of them knowing what came next.

Sheila slid in under the bottom rope, rose to her feet, and marched over to the corner, where she promptly pulled her way up, one pad after the other. She reached the top, all the way up, and stood with her arms outstretched, making sure she had steady food. So far, so good.

Like a hawk searching for its prey, Sheila locked in on the prone Kuroi, zeroing on her position and doing all the calculations in her head. It had been a while since she’d done this move from this far away, but she was fairly certain she could hit it. ”Nogutsnoglorynogutsnoglory-”

Sheila readied herself with one, final breath, then leaped off into space, diving headlong towards Kuroi. She waited until the last second, then flipped forward to bring all of her weight crashing down on her foe, trying to hit her with a Swanton Bomb - or, as she called it, Crash Course.

The bleeding down her nostril had died down to a red trickle, except for a few more drops spurred on by Sheila's condescending flick to her nose. Kuroi wanted nothing more than to spit in the face of her opponent, but even that was impossible as Sheila had quite literally sucked all the moisture from out her mouth. There was nothing she could do except cough and sputter, gritting her teeth to stifle any more groans.

A tedious familiarity creeped over Kuroi as she watched through bleary eyes her opponent climbing the turnbuckle, each step bringing her closer to the sky. It was a position reminiscent of the last time they had shared the ring together, when Sheila had sent them both plummeting through the table in a heap of broken wood and bones. Except this time, Sheila was stronger, and higher, and angrier. She knew what was coming next... Sheila was going to bury her here.

Kuroi let out a defeated sigh, squinting her eyes and bracing herself for certain defeat.

She looked up just in time to see Sheila leaping off the top rope, hurtling towards her with all the guts and bravado Kuroi had come to hate about the girl. her twitching eyes stared in perilous rage as her opponent soared through the air like a mortar primed to her position. She could feel the wind rushing past her face as Sheila reached climactic heights, the arena lights blacking out behind her brutish figure. For a moment, she thought it was all over.

Until it returned, that fighter's will, that instinct that had failed her from the very start of the match, finally returned in force. This table would be Sheila's coffin, not hers.

"FUUUCK-YOOUUU!" With a vengeful yell, Kuroi's body suddenly swiveled to the side, attempting with all her might to avoid the same fate that had nearly broken her in their last match. If she was successful, then Kuroi would have saved her body the harsh reality of fracturing beneath her opponent's weight, instead forcing that fate between her opponent and the empty landing zone of the table's jarring surface. If luck was on her side, then Kuroi's body would tumble over the desk's edge, before landing with a loud cry on the outside floor.

Sheila went flying through space, weightless and free, soaring through the air as cameras flashed around lit up the arena in a brilliant array. It might’ve seemed strange, but up here, careering through the air, at the mercy of gravity, she was at her best. This was the sort of wrestling she lived for back home. Gambling with her life, putting it all on the line, and hurting herself just for the chance that she might hurt her opponent even more. They called it ‘garbage wrestling’, but in her mind there was nothing purer in the sport. This was what she lived for.

Up, up and away, like a bird. Falling like a meteor, ready to destroy anything in her path. It was perfect.

Except for one, tiny problem - her target was gone.

Sheila didn’t realize that at first, of course, since it all happened so fast. But she knew right away it had gone off the rails when she didn’t feel the soft body that was supposed to be her landing pad. Instead, all she got was a hard table, one that crashed straight through the moment she collided with it, filling the arena with its deafening sound.

Wood and metal went flying in every direction, scattering all around, to say nothing of the monitors and wires that were flung away in the catastrophe. The desk was a shattered husk of its former self, destroyed all the way down to the frame, and Sheila laid in the middle of the carnage. An unmoving wreck.

Her eyes opened after a few second and a few twitches came out, but she was otherwise still. In agony, aching, and so very vulnerable.

It must have been a glorious sight, the blur of her opponent's body tumbling through the air, only to have all hope and momentum taken away from her with the force of a brick wall. Unfortunately for Kuroi, she didn't have the good fortune of seeing the moment as it transpired. She was too busy crouched on the cement floor, one hand clutched against her forehead while the other pressed deep against her chest, aiding her lungs in acquiring as much oxygen as possible. But she definitely heard it. The sound of wood splintering, metal snapping, and a woman groaning.

When she finally summed up the energy to shakily get to her feet, Kuroi couldn't help but roar with relief at what she saw. Her opponent incapacitated on the shattered table, barely recognizable among the heap of debris. The crowd chanted as she raised her fists in triumph, her short black and red hair flinging sweat in every direction as she basked in the adulation with manic delight.

"Missed me bitch" Kuroi growled, her voice violent and disturbed. She clamored over the remains of the table as she hobbled to her foe, delivering a bloodthirsty barrage of stomps to the Sheila's midsection before finally bending downwards to grab her by her blonde hair. She dragged her opponent around the wreckage, making sure to scrape Sheila's body along every sharp and exposed bit of debris along the way until finally, Kuroi found a neat pile of wreckage to toss Sheila over. She looked down at the broken body of her opponent, her mind swirling with an infinite number of ways to make this girl hurt even more.

But without warning, Kuroi dropped down to one knee, then the other followed suit. Soon she was on all fours, crawling towards her opponent with a feral look in her eyes. This wasn't just about winning anymore, this was about something deeper, something more elemental. A rage burned deep within her, a need to destroy, to hurt, to dominate. Kuroi had always been a killer, but now, as she loomed over her helpless foe, that urge was stronger than ever. She could feel her muscles tensing, her heart racing as she prepared to claim her prey. Suddenly Kuroi pounced, her body pummeling itself overtop of Sheila's in a wild lunge of desire. One hand went wedge itself Sheila's back, while the other draped itself overtop her neck to completely encapsulate her head in a grueling arm triangle choke!

Her knee drove itself between Sheila's legs, aiming to batter the girl's pussy at first, before making way for a much more tender thigh. Kuroi was perfectly overtop of her opponent now, grinding her leg against her groin, squeezing her neck between her arms, and finally, reclaiming her spot on top by locking lips once again with an insatiable hunger.

Spoiler

-shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy-”

Huh. Sheila could hear the crowd chanting, but they were distant, sounded like they were miles away. That brought back memories, though. She used to hear that all the time in Outback Wrestling, though it always came from a much smaller group. She kind of preferred the version with less people, though. Something about having a few intense fans really made it all more intense. This big group was more impersonal, and while she didn’t hate them, a small part of her would always long for home.

But this wasn’t too bad, was it? Here, amidst the wreckage, broken and aching, she was at home. She even managed a smile as she gazed up into the lights.

It didn’t last.

”Guh! Fuck!” Sheila spat out as a stomp crashed into her breadbasket, then another, and another, and another. Kuroi’s foot came down, wild and reckless, with each blow driving the wind further out of her, pacifying her. She didn’t have much resistance left to start, but by the time her foe was done and began to drag her through the wreckage, she was a total ragdoll. Her hair more disheveled than usual, her top threatening to peel clean off, her body covered in bruises and nicks.

She was a mess. But as she looked up and saw Kuroi standing over her, she knew that wouldn’t stop what was coming next. Sheila made a weak attempt to crawl away as the psycho bitch dropped down and crawled over, but there was no escaping this. They both knew it. ”Get off me, get the fuck-”

Kuroi was all over her, all at once, wrapping her throat up, using her arms like a noose to choke the life clean out of the Wild One’s body. She wrapped Sheila up in some kind of crazy hold, putting pressure on her throat, so much so that she couldn't even properly cry out when her pussy took a hard knee. But, rough as that was, the knee was replaced by a softer thigh a moment later. Pressing. Sliding. Grinding.

If there were any doubts about what was coming next, Kuroi nixed them when she came in for the kiss, pressing their lips together and taking her, possessing her mouth, claiming it as her own. Sheila couldn't turn her head away and didn’t have the strength to throw anything but weak punches into her foe’s sides - for the moment, she was all Kuroi’s, not able to stop her from doing anything she pleased.

Cameras careened over the barriers, blinding flashes competing with one another to capture the debauchery from all angles. Kuroi couldn't recall the last time she had ever expressed such primal urges in a fight, nor did she want to. This was a moment she wanted to savor solely for its singularity; the one night she finally conquered Sheila, fucking her atop a pile of rubble of their own making. Each thrust of her hips was accompanied by more bumps and scrapes from their bed of debris, but that didn't stop Kuroi from letting out a girly growl of delight from between their locked lips. She couldn't have been any more comfortable in her conquest.

Her own body began to react to the whims and wills of her accelerating lust. Her nipples were already hard, clipping against Sheila's own nubs through their tops as her body continued to rock vigorously against her foes. Long gone were the gentle grinds of thigh against groin; Kuroi's entire body was involved in the action now. Her hips thrust passionately against Sheila's loins, forcing her own crotch to continuously brush up against her opponent's thin panties. Her lips hadn't lost any of their vigor either, tongue lashing out like a saliva-laced sword, battering the inside of Sheila's mouth as it claimed every inch of the girl's insides.

The redhead's grip around Sheila's neck had been unyielding thus far, compressing against her already bruised windpipe with an unbearable amount of pressure. Not wanting to forfeit such a domineering chokehold, Kuroi slowly repositioned her arm so that her elbow pressed against Sheila's trachea instead, while her other hand looped around to clasp onto her arm and solidify the now modified Ezekiel choke even tighter. Kuroi briefly broke off the kiss in order to regain her breath with manic, unsteady gulps. Her body continued to buck and hump against Sheila's defeated frame, cheek pressed to cheek while her tongue redirected its efforts to the side of her opponent's face and earlobe. The salty tang of sweat and blood only left her wanting more, much more. And she was now in the position to finally get it; Kuroi's slight maneuverings had brought her fingers within reach of an even greater prize: Sheila's tits.

"You're mine now, Sheila ~ Aaaall mine!" Kuroi moaned into her rival's ear as her fingers squeezed between the sweaty gap of their tight-knit bodies, searching for that mound of flesh to claim for herself. When she spotted it, she let out a loud excited squeak before plunging back for another kiss, wanting Sheila to know just how much she was enjoying conquering every inch of the girl's body. Her nails dipped between the blonde's already slipping bra before digging deep into the girl's bulbous boob, her fingers roughly kneading Sheila's luscious tit. It was hers now, all of it, all of her, and there was nothing Sheila could do to stop her.

Spoiler

It said a lot about Sheila’s life that this was actually not the worst thing that she’d ever fucked or been fucked on top of. In fact, if she had to come up with a top ten list, this probably wouldn’t even crack it.

While she wasn’t a voyeur, she didn’t exactly have problems with fucking in public. Hell, one of her first nights out in Japan had seen her nearly going wild on a certain dom in the middle of a club, and the match that had followed after was no less raunchy. While she was always more about violence than sex, neither were ever off the table, and while the rubble beneath her was scratching at her skin and jabbing at her sides, that actually enhanced the move. Gave every thrust a little pain, mixed in some punishment with pleasure. She wouldn’t have objected to this, most times.

Just not with Kuroi. Not with her on the bottom, anyway.

Kuroi knew how to milk the moment, too, as her efforts reached a fever pitch. The choking grew worse, digging so deep into Sheila's neck that not a single wisp of air could slip through. The humping picked up its pace, getting hotter and heavier with each thrust, as her foe lost herself to lust. And it just wouldn’t be Kuroi Kamikaze if she wasn’t groping some breasts, would she? She’d like stealing squeezes enough during their last match, but she went wild without the referee to stop her, working at Sheila’s tit like it was her personal property. Maybe she even believed that. In this state, it wasn’t like she could be told otherwise.

To make matters worse, there was no stopping nature. Sheila’s body worked against her will, thrusting back in tandem with her opponent, as if seeking out pleasure on its own, wanting to make the most of every touch. On top of that, she was coming close to passing out, and if that happened before the orgasm, then the match would be over in short fashion.

If. If.

As wrecked as she was, Sheila hadn’t forgotten the rules, and the specific way things had to go. As her world started to darken, she pressed against Kuroi harder than, going from involuntary to voluntary. She was already on the cusp of erupting, so it didn’t take much prodding to push her right over the edge. A few furious bursts, and the dam broke.

Sheila’s body jolted, seized up, her muscles tightened, and a familiar scent filled the air, all the telltale signs. A croaking moan escaped her lips and rumbled in Kuroi’s mouth, just before the lights switched off and her eyes rolled to the back of her head. She tensed up, went taut, then relaxed, utterly spent underneath her opponent.

The humiliation over losing her debut, the indignation at having her sanctuary, her dojo invaded - This made it all worth it. This being the unholy mix of pain and pleasure Kuroi extracted with every grind and growl, the intoxicating drug of lust and adrenaline coursing through her veins and fueling her every move. She felt completely in control in a way that she had never felt before. Sheila was her bitch, her plaything, her piece of meat to ground and devour as she pleased. If Kamikaze's driveling moans weren't enough to spell the obvious, then her leaking loins certainly were: Kuroi was horny as hell.

A mix of sweat and juices visibly dripped down the sides of their embattled thighs, spurred on more and more by Kuroi's humping figure. She let an ecstatic moans as she felt her opponent's body vibrate beneath her: Sheila wasn't just laying there and taking it, she was giving back! Kuroi welcomed the development for what it was. The crazed psycho was breaking Sheila, she had to be! She was manipulating her opponent's mind into believing that it wasn't her nearly collapsed trachea that mattered most, or the plethora of cuts and bruises she was slowly acquiring, but rather succumbing to the most basic of human desires; raw, rough, sex!

Kuroi could feel it too, the warmth emanating from deep within her womb, begging to spill out and mingle with her rival's fluids. But she rode out the storm, if only to see her opponent drown under it first. And oh did Sheila drown. Kuroi felt the very moment it happened, the sudden surge of warmth that coated her nether regions, binding their lower garments in a sticky veil of wetness. Kuroi rewarded her opponent for her subservience with even deeper kisses, her tongue reaching out to tickle the very back of Sheila's throat. Better yet, the blonde's body soon sunk beneath the weight of love and defeat. her muscles gave out completely, offering only the occasional twitch as indication that they were still alive.

She had done it. By the conditions laid out in her own warped and twisted mind, Kuroi had accomplished what she had set out to claim here tonight. Not only did Sheila's body lay lifeless beneath her, but her very womanhood itself had been vanquished. All that was left to do was relish in her victory. Kuroi continued her passionate grind well after she had felt Sheila's body give out, using her opponent's limp frame as little more the a fuck toy to ride out her own impending climax. Her voice descended into a mad string of pleasure-racked whines, and within a few strokes, Kuroi had achieved her own orgasmic high. Her body collapsed, losing all it's tautness as she unwound into jelly overtop of the once proud Wild One. Kuroi's arms slipped out from their violent holds, instead laying limp at her sides. She simply lay there, allowing her body to titillate under the gentles rise and falls of their heaving chests, allowing her mind to soak in sweet savory satisfaction...

But her victory demanded adulation, a sound that she failed to hear in the form of a decisive bell or declaration from the referee. Kuroi slowly inched herself to her knees, her body still tingling from the mind-numbing experience the two fighters had just shared. She shot the referee a look of livid confusion, before bending down to grab her unconsciousness opponent by her scalp. She yanked Sheila upwards, using her other finger to slip beneath the woman's orange panties and peruse around her slit, coating her fingers in a generous helping of the brawler's thick juices. She slowly retracted the digits from Sheila's inner passage with a loud squelch, before dramatically raising the fingers high above their head in full view of the crowds, cameras and official alike. The message couldn't have been any clearer; cum on one hand, an unconscious woman in the other.

"Call the match!" Kuroi growled from below, only to be met with a shake of the head from the referee.

Kuroi didn't even give him a chance to elaborate any further. Before Sheila's body had even collapse back into the wreckage with a carless thump, Kuroi had bounced back onto her feet and between the ropes. Many in the audience barely had a chance to blink before Kuroi was already in the ring, forehead pressed right up against the referee. "Call...the fucking...MATCH!" Kuroi shouted once more, shoving her fingers - still webbed by Sheila's juices - right into the official's face!

See, this was why Kenji hated doing hentai matches. All the referees did, really.

With normal matches, you didn’t have to worry about too much. You just had to stay close, but not too close, then rush in when someone went for a pinfall. You monitored their health, checked for submissions, called the bell, got them off the ropes, stuff like that. It wasn’t as easy as people thought, but it wasn’t all that hard, either.

But hentai matches were…different. It was like you were half porn director, half official. It wasn’t like people had a bright red light that came on every time they had an orgasm. It wasn’t always like the movies. Some people were quiet when they came, some people made noise before it happened, some people could have multiple orgasms stacked on top, some people just made so much damn noise that it was hard to know when they reached that point. And it wasn’t even like you could do a replay or anything to be sure. Unless there was a heart monitor hooked up to the combatants, it came down to conjecture.

So, as Kenji looked over the ropes and watched the carnal fuckfest below, he made the best call that he could, and determined that Sheila had reached her orgasm…before she passed out. The match rules clearly stated that orgasms only counted after a fall. Ergo, that orgasm didn't count. Ergo, the match was still on. Ergo, Sheila was going to be pissed.

He shook his head her way when she demanded he called the match, hoping she would get the gist. ”Please don’t come in here, don’t come in the ring, god damn it…” He stepped back, hands in the air, as she stormed his way and thrust her slick finger in his face, as if that alone was all the proof anyone needed, like there was a timestamp on it.

”You didn’t…come on, get that out of my face!” He took a few steps back, all the way to the ropes. ”Look, I see that, but it doesn’t count. You had to make her orgasm after you knocked her out, not before, okay?”

Weird as it was, the rules had been fairly clear, and that was exactly what Sheila had been counting on. As she woke up with a jolt, gathered her senses, and looked over to see Kuroi rushing into the ring, she knew that her little gambit had paid off. The match was still on. She was safe, for now, but she was still aching, and her opponent had the advantage. If there was ever a time to turn things around, it was now. If only she had some weapon to use, something close, something like…

”Fuck it.” Sheila reached at her side and pulled her top off, sliding it over her shoulders, peeling it off her skin, as she came in low and slid her way into the ring. She crawled along the mat, both for stealth and because it hurt to stand, only rising up when she was just behind her foe.

Sheila gripped her top tight, threw it out in front of Kuroi’s neck, and pulled it back hard across her throat, using it like a garrotte to choke the life clean out of her foe, all while she hissed in her ear. ”Forget about me?”