L.A.W. - League of Anime Wrestling

Usually Storm hated smart-mouthed opponents; being made to suffer by someone affecting to not take it seriously was an especially humiliating hang-up for the prideful Scot. The Morrigan’s flippancy wasn’t quite as irksome, though; in part because it came from her no-nonsense domme persona, and absent of any brattishness, but mainly because she was so powerfully in control of proceedings that Storm would grudgingly concede the Irish woman had earned trash talking rights.

Playing the role of human punchbag, the quivering Storm was struggling to focus, let alone fight back. Gripping her attacker’s fist before it could smack her stomach with yet another sickening blow felt like a win, and she was pleased her arms still had strength to stand her ground, but it was a phyrric victory in the face of the Morrigan’s relentless aggression.

The Goth girl responded to the show of defiance by getting up close and personal, almost nuzzling Storm’s ashen, sweat-soaked features as she grinned, an untamed look in her eyes. It was a tense moment, and Storm’s heart skipped a beat as they held each other’s gaze. There was a wildness in this woman, a sense that she gave very few fucks when it came to violence. This was hardly new information, but it still gave the beleaguered Storm the feeling that she was swimming in some extremely deep water here.

The Scot didn’t respond with fear, though, and gripped her opponent’s arm all the tighter. Unfortunately, this worked against her, as Morrigan smartly shifted gears and hauled herself upright, taking Storm up with her. It was an impressive show of strength, although somewhat lost on Storm as the groggy, grimacing, punch-sickened stooge wondered dimly why she was now unexpectedly standing on unsteady legs.

She wouldn’t like the answer. The hapless Storm gave a splutter of protest, as the statuesque Morrigan swept her off her feet, and into a fireman’s carry.

“Oh, no…” she groaned as she was manhandled yet again, utterly disoriented and trapped in the bigger woman’s grip, held firm across those broad shoulders. Storm initially braced for another ruinous slam, but the dreaded plunge down to the ground never came.

Instead, she got firm hands on her head and inner thigh. Storm moaned, but not in pleasure, as she began to be stretched back across Morrigan’s frame.

“Unghh..” she grunted, squirming as her spine suffered fresh pain, and her battered midsection was once again tested. Storm flailed weakly, but the Torture Rack was aptly named, the elevated nature of the hold giving Storm no chance to push back or wriggle free.

She had to hang there, and suffer.

Storm grimaced, biting her lip, trying her best to ignore the growing burn of pain in her belly. A steady, insistent agony replaced those regular, pulverising punches; hardly an improvement in her position. She was bitterly aware of how helpless she must look - the past few minutes had been dismal, and she was getting utterly dominated here by the burly Goth. The Torture Rack was sadistic and showy, an impressive display of Morrigan’s strength. In fact, the only ray of light for Storm was the knowledge that she herself was a heavyweight too, and holding the big Scot broadside would be sapping her opponent’s stamina as well.

Storm knew that “wait for your enemy to tire themselves out torturing you” utterly sucked as a strategy, but it gave her something to cling to as she endured the pain.

Riding out the submission hold would be a mental battle as much as physical, and Storm realised she should show some defiance to that end, to demonstrate to her tormentor that she wasn’t giving up just yet.

“Ngh… you want… workout tips… huh?” she grunted, as nonchalant as possible give the gruelling circumstances. “I’ll definitely… ugh… teach you SOME kind of fucking lesson…”

Not Storm’s best banter, but given she was utterly helpless, drenched in sweat, and suffering an increasingly untenable level of anguish, she didn’t much care.

Submissions weren’t really Morrigan’s thing, despite being a dominatrix-themed wrestler who was an actual dominatrix. She wasn’t wholly ignorant of them, and even had a simple one as a finisher, but for the most part she preferred to straight-up brawl in her matches instead of trying to fold her opponents in half. It just seemed like the more direct way to go about things. Even if she was a wrestler now, she’d come up trading shots in pubs just like this, standing toe to toe with whoever started shit and trading shots until one of them fell down.

And she would’ve loved to do that all day with Storm. And maybe she would.

Just a little later. Not now, not exactly.

For now, she knew she needed to slow things down just a bit, with Storm proving to be a special case. It wasn’t every day that she found herself running about against someone who hit back hard enough to give her pause, but the Scotswoman fit the bill. Hefting her up wasn’t exactly easy - she was the lighter one between them, but ‘lighter’ didn’t mean ‘light’. Even a bruiser like her could only hold Storm up here for so long, but she fully intended to get the most bang for her buck.

Stretching, bouncing, twisting, Morrigan moved about and pulled down hard on Storm’s body, punishing her midsection. She could feel the woman’s body break along her shoulders, could only imagine how her innards felt, the way her ribs were being pulverized.

”Don’t suppose you want to tap anytime soon?” More of a rhetorical question than anything - she’d only known Storm for a few minutes, but she already recognized the type, way too stubborn to let something like this put her down. The match might’ve allowed for knockouts and submissions, but she already knew which was more likely. She needed to put this woman to sleep.

And she wasn’t going to do that with a torture rack. After a few more punishing bounces, she stepped to the side of the room and unceremoniously dumped Storm onto a booth table, laying her out on her back. She took a moment to breathe, rolled her neck, then started climbing up on top after her, trying to pin the Scotswoman down and take the dominant position. ”Let’s get to know each other a little better.”