L.A.W. - League of Anime Wrestling

Krystal sagged helplessly in Apex's grasp, barely clinging to consciousness, the breath squashed from her body by his incredible display. The cheers of the fans rang in her ears, but she had nothing more to give. Before she could slip fully into oblivion, however, Apex relaxed his grip, lowering her compliant body to its knees. Then he eased her back, flattening her against the ground.

Krystal offered no resistance as Apex draped his powerful body across hers, easily pinning her to the arena floor. Her wrists were effortlessly pinned above her head, and a shameless moan escaped her lips as she felt his hips grind into hers. Her back arched as her body responded obediently to his advances, her eyes rolling for a moment and leg muscles tensing against his steel-like frame.

Then she was looking into his eyes, the face of her conqueror just inches away. Her breath caught in her throat as she lay beneath him, exactly where she belonged - overpowered and subdued by Apex's raw power. He spoke, and she knew exactly what he wanted from her. There was almost a thrill in this final capitulation, a sense of twisted arousal rippling through her body as she admitted to herself what the crowds had long since known.

"I ... submit," she mewled softly, unwittingly grinding her hips against his as she said the words. "Please ... I submit." The second time her voice was husky with desire and she went limp beneath him, waiting for Apex to claim his prize.

Her body reacting to his gave everything away that he had suspected before. Apex didn't think that she outright thrilled at the idea of being dominated by superior force, but rather, the intense physicality of the contest had had a deeply sensual effect on her. He's still pretty sure that's the case, as her back arches to press her body urgently into his.

The announcers heard that first submission. And they're already starting to make the declaration - only to pause at the reiteration of the submission. They opt to glaze right past what's obvious and instead proceed with the announcement.

"Your winner! Apex!"

He doesn't care. That first submission was the victory. That second submission is personal. His body shifts against hers, the urge to kiss her powerfully throbbing. But he holds back for now. That's not something he can do in front of the audience. He can let their minds wander as he carries off her limp, submissive form into the recesses of the arena, but show affection? Absolutely not. But the look he gives her is one that likely says everything she wants to hear; yes. Simple answer. And the subtle grind of his body tight along hers may even add a 'now' to it.

Pulling back from her body, he reaches down to seize her by the shoulder with his left hand. The right hand grabs for her wrist, both pulling to draw the vixen to her feet and to load her slight weight across his shoulder. Turning to the crowd, he raises a fist with a callous nod - and then he's turning to stalk back to the entrance area, away from prying eyes, carting off his 'prey'.

Winner by submission: Apex