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

[Letta]

Laxia still lay sprawled across the mat, dazed by the impact of the Látigo Bandolera, her limbs heavy and the overhead lights reduced to pale, unfocused smears. A shadow passed over them, and her half-lidded eyes opened a little wider as Bandita appeared upside down in her hazy vision, flushed and breathing hard. The luchadora lowered herself until their breasts met, warmth spreading through their sweat-slick skin as their bodies shifted apart with each inhale and settled together again with every exhale. Bandita’s heartbeat seeped into Laxia’s clouded senses, fast and ragged like her own. She was merely taking the shortest, most efficient route to complete the pin, Laxia told herself, though the thought grew harder to hold onto as Bandita slid farther upward, her breasts brushing beneath Laxia’s before her taut, glistening abdomen descended over the noblewoman’s face, warm skin covering her eyes and pressing softly over her nose and lips.

“Mmph...!”

Laxia’s groan sounded dull and muffled against Bandita’s stomach. At the same time, Bandita’s face settled against Laxia’s abdomen. Her lips and chin brushed the damp skin first before she turned her head, pressing her cheek firmly into the center of Laxia’s stomach. Her uneven breath spread warmly across Laxia’s abs. The sensation sent a faint tremor through the noblewoman’s body, her abdomen tightening almost imperceptibly of its own accord. The small tension that formed beneath Bandita’s cheek passed unmistakably through their joined skin. One woman’s breath and the other’s subtle muscular reactions traveled back and forth through their bodies, silently revealing their condition to one another. “Hhmmph....” The sound that escaped her was once again swallowed by Bandita’s body and reduced to a faint, distorted murmur. But Bandita did not stop there.

Keeping hold of Laxia’s hips, she pushed against the mat with her knees and dragged herself farther upward. The cheek pressing into Laxia’s stomach slid higher, moving dangerously close to the noblewoman’s intimate area, while Bandita’s rear soon settled firmly against her face. The contact made Laxia blush in embarrassment. Bandita’s left arm wrapped around Laxia’s left thigh, while the other reached for the inner side of her right. Her palm pressed into the sweat-dampened skin, fingers slowly closing around the firm muscle beneath it as though kneading it..

“Hhmmffmph......!!”

Laxia’s right thigh tightened beneath Bandita’s hand. A moment later, the reaction spread throughout her body and caused her to jerk briefly against the mat. A heated moan burst between the lips pinned beneath Bandita’s rear, but the sound remained trapped between their bodies, escaping only as a low, distorted vibration. At that moment, Laxia found herself almost grateful that Bandita’s body concealed her completely. Otherwise, both the audience and the cameras would have seen her flushed face and realized exactly what kind of sound had just escaped her lips. At the same time, the pressure of the fingers gripping her inner thigh spread along her exhausted leg, awakening sensations she had thought had already gone numb. It should have been humiliating. Her disheveled hair and sweat-soaked body. Her face hidden beneath Bandita and her helpless position beneath the cameras. Laxia, who had always guarded her composure and dignity, had never been left in such complete disarray. And yet it was not entirely unpleasant. With both dignity and restraint cast aside, the unfamiliar sense of liberation flowing through her body felt strangely vivid.

Bandita arched her back downward and pressed herself more firmly against Laxia. Her knees spread wider to secure the position. Then Bandita raised her head and pulled back with her left arm. Only then did Laxia’s left leg rise high from the mat. Her thigh was drawn into the space between Bandita’s neck and shoulder, while the luchadora tilted her head and pressed her cheek softly against the sweat-slick skin of its inner side. Her hot, ragged breath tickled Laxia’s thigh. Bandita’s fingers still held the firm muscle along the inside of her right thigh. One leg was raised high and trapped between the luchadora’s arm and cheek, while the other remained pinned beneath her palm. Laxia’s back was pressed completely flat against the mat. The referee’s hand descended.

“ONE!”

The vibration of the referee’s hand traveled through Laxia’s back and shoulders, drawing her scattered sensations into focus. Her left leg was raised high, her back flattened beneath Bandita, and the luchadora’s body rose and fell over her with every breath. The heat against her face and the hand gripping her inner thigh continued to stir her clouded consciousness, tempting her to simply close her eyes and let the third count pass. She could no longer tell whether that would be a conscious acceptance of defeat or merely surrender to the sensations surrounding her. But that uncertainty was precisely why she could not allow the match to end. Bandita’s earlier words resurfaced through the haze, and frustration flared within her. Bandita had once again surpassed her expectations, bringing her down with a flawless technique and pinning her beneath the cameras with the full weight of her body.

Laxia could not deny that Bandita might already have earned her respect, but respect and surrender were not the same. She had yet to give her own answer, and she refused to let this helpless image become her final one. That thought sparked life in her dulled consciousness just as Bandita’s fingers tightened again around her right inner thigh. The warm pressure sent a tremor through the exhausted muscle, awakening sensations Laxia would once have tried to suppress in shame. This time, she seized them. Bandita had used the turnbuckles and Laxia’s own body to complete her technique; Laxia could likewise turn the sensations coursing through her into the strength to move. She tried to twist free, but Bandita had her pinned from head to waist, her left leg securely trapped and her shoulders too weak to rise. Only her right leg remained free as the referee’s hand struck the mat a second time.

"TWO..!!"

At the second count, Laxia’s right heel weakly scraped across the canvas. Only a few inches, and it touched nothing, but the leg had moved. The tension awakened beneath Bandita’s hand traveled from her thigh through her knee and calf to the tips of her toes. Rather than suppress the warm, almost guilty thrill, Laxia seized it and turned it into motion. Her boot slid across the mat again while Bandita’s cheek remained pressed to the inside of her raised left thigh, each labored breath making the trapped muscle tremble faintly. As the referee raised a hand for the third count, Laxia’s free foot searched once more and finally brushed against something rough and taut. The rope. Just... a little farther... Unable to lift her leg, Laxia pushed one last time with her heel. Her boot slipped beneath the rope, and her ankle barely settled across it. That was all. Neither her shoulders nor her hips had moved, and Bandita remained sealed tightly over her. Laxia had not escaped the pin; she had only used the sensations awakened by the luchadora’s touch to delay the end of the match.