***
Match Type: Captivity and Rapture Match
Victory Conditions: Scoring two falls. The first must come about via using the opponent to achieve one's own orgasm after binding the opponent in some fashion (a selection of restraints will be available at ringside). The second fall is to be scored by forcing a vocal submission from the opponent.
***
was looking forward to this match when he got his card. This wasn't on After Dark, but he had the feeling that Alix had her hand in it somehow. At the very least, she had to have pitched the match type. It got its title and kinkier elements from one of her most popular adult series. A femdom-based series, funnily enough. And one of the biggest exclamation marks in that road he walked as a teenager to discovering his current fetishes. His interest in D/s relationships in particular.Match Type: Captivity and Rapture Match
Victory Conditions: Scoring two falls. The first must come about via using the opponent to achieve one's own orgasm after binding the opponent in some fashion (a selection of restraints will be available at ringside). The second fall is to be scored by forcing a vocal submission from the opponent.
***
And here he is, getting to wrestle the first match held in its name. Even if he were to lose, it'd be an honor.
He didn't know much about Odin Crowe. Just that she was under the management of a guy called Mr. Q. Some "A Pimp Named Slickback" looking dude. Aside from that, he was going into this blind.
Something was telling him that this match wasn't going to be a slap and tickle affair, so he went with the theme that he had intended for standard action. He stepped out into a darkened arena that was being lit only with golden strobe lights. He went with it: Hood up, the darkness beaten back just enough to reveal his shape, but not his features. Not until a few seconds before the beat came in; that's when the spotlights started flashing. He stood in place, allowing a camerawoman working the stage the time to come in for a close-up shot that would be displayed on the jumbotron above for the viewing pleasure of those in the nosebleeds. Starting at his booted feet, and slowing to a crawl when it reached his chiseled abs and traveled to his chest, eliciting some appreciative hooting and hollering from the ladies, and even some of the fellas.
A pointer figure gestured for the camera to be risen, up to a playful smile.
"The following contest is a Captivity and Rapture match! And introducing first, standing at five feet and eight inches and weighing in at one hundred and eighty-five pounds...! From Milwaukee, Wisconsin...! Blaaaaaack! Seeeeveriiiin!"
He peeled his hood back and started on the way down to the ring, clapping any hands that were held out for him. With a few running steps, Severin slid beneath the bottom rope, then kipping up into a three-point landing. Timed just right with the build-up to the beat drop, his hood flying back into place for maximum style. He held the pose. Waited for the second pulse in the build-up, then threw his head back, flipping the hood back off his head, and his dreads from his face so he could make eye contact with the camera outside of the ring. And then some footwork to set up the move that's become a staple of his entrances in the arena: The windmill.
The drop finally hit, and the strobes made the place look a lot more like a dance club. Some people were even busting a move, to varying degrees of success.
To match the amped up energy the arena had taken on, Severin transitioned to eventually finishing up with a sweet to make his way back onto his feet. He slid his jacket off, brought it around to one side, and tossed it over into the crowd. The first time he did that was an accident. This time, it was on purpose.
And just like last time, the dancing had done its job, leaving him nice and pumped for this thing.
