Alaina Sanders vs. Beatrice Dreyse - The Things We Do For Love
Posted: Fri Nov 06, 2026 7:49 pm
Match Type: Standard
Victory Conditions: Pinfall, submission, or KO
***
So…Beatrice might’ve goofed up. Big time.
It was hard to truly encapsulate the series of events that had led to put her in the current position she was in, but to summarize them:
She’d had a match with Nefretiri.
During said match, things got heated.
She met with Nefretiri after the match.
Nefretiri challenged her to win her next match before they continued…whatever this was going to be.
All great stuff, really, but when Beatrice went to management, they were extremely unwilling to put her in another match so soon after her ‘crushing’ defeat by Nefretiri. So she’d had to bug them and harass them and poke and prod them until they finally gave her what she wanted.
And, oh my, did they give it to her.
“Alaina Sanders?”
It wasn’t often that Beatrice heard her cousin yell - Sabine had been known as the quiet one in the family, the calm one, even after she’d become a dominatrix and left their roots in the dust. She was cool and collected most times, rarely letting her stress show, and she was the sort of woman that she herself longed to emulate…most of the time. Not now.
Now, she was panicking, because she’d come to watch Beatrice’s second match, and only now found out, just as she was coming into the gorilla position to give her a pep talk that her cousin - her young, inexperienced cousin - was about to have a match with Alaina Sanders, the former heavyweight champion with the longest win-streak in LAW history. Yes, she was over fifty, but this was like pitting a World War II battleship against a modern tugboat. The youth advantage was only going to get her so far, and in this case, probably not very far at all.
Beatrice didn’t pay her much attention, honestly, far too focused on the she was wearing. It had been a rush job, something she’d snagged online, and it had cost her no small amount of money. But worth it? Yes, she thought so. Nefret had said she’d wanted her to show more skin, and she was fairly sure this qualified. She’d even cut off the sleeves to make the arms bare.
Of course, none of that would matter if she didn’t win this match like she’d promised to do. And that was a very, very dismal prospect.
“Beatrice, tell me.” Sabine walked to her side, doing her best to get Beatrice’s attention - still treating her like they were young, like she was some little kid that needed protection from the bullies. “Who did you anger enough that they put you in this match? Just let me go and talk to them, I can smooth out the situation, and then-”
Beatrice let out a long, haggard groan and spun about to face her cousin. “Do you really have that little faith in me?”
“As much faith as I would for a fox taking on a lion.” She tilted her head to the side, as if looking at Beatrice from a different angle would help her make sense of the situation. “You can’t seriously be naive enough to think you stand a chance again-”
“She’s over fifty!”
“I do not care if she’s over a hundred, you are still out of your league.”
“Totally not helpful! I don’t need you telling me stuff I already know, you’re not my Mom!”
“And for that, I am eternally grateful.”
Beatrice groaned - an exasperated, frustrated, fiery groan - just in time for her entrance music to begin to play. She let it all go, shook her head, then pointed Sabine’s way with the hardest face she could muster. “Just watch me.”
Beatrice came bursting through the curtain and promptly made her way to the ring, with perhaps a touch more pep in her step than she would’ve otherwise. The last thing she wanted to do was slow down - she didn’t want to think or get lost in her worries, her concerns, her fears. She definitely didn’t want to think about the crowd, many of whom were looking at her like she was on her way to the gallows.
As she made her way into the ring, though, she couldn't help but scan the audience. It was a big mass, and she knew the chances were fleeting, but she hoped she could spot one individual. A woman, taller than most, dark skin, piercing eyes…
Beatrice gulped, took a deep breath, and promptly made her way over to the corner.
Victory Conditions: Pinfall, submission, or KO
***
So…Beatrice might’ve goofed up. Big time.
It was hard to truly encapsulate the series of events that had led to put her in the current position she was in, but to summarize them:
She’d had a match with Nefretiri.
During said match, things got heated.
She met with Nefretiri after the match.
Nefretiri challenged her to win her next match before they continued…whatever this was going to be.
All great stuff, really, but when Beatrice went to management, they were extremely unwilling to put her in another match so soon after her ‘crushing’ defeat by Nefretiri. So she’d had to bug them and harass them and poke and prod them until they finally gave her what she wanted.
And, oh my, did they give it to her.
“Alaina Sanders?”
It wasn’t often that Beatrice heard her cousin yell - Sabine had been known as the quiet one in the family, the calm one, even after she’d become a dominatrix and left their roots in the dust. She was cool and collected most times, rarely letting her stress show, and she was the sort of woman that she herself longed to emulate…most of the time. Not now.
Now, she was panicking, because she’d come to watch Beatrice’s second match, and only now found out, just as she was coming into the gorilla position to give her a pep talk that her cousin - her young, inexperienced cousin - was about to have a match with Alaina Sanders, the former heavyweight champion with the longest win-streak in LAW history. Yes, she was over fifty, but this was like pitting a World War II battleship against a modern tugboat. The youth advantage was only going to get her so far, and in this case, probably not very far at all.
Beatrice didn’t pay her much attention, honestly, far too focused on the she was wearing. It had been a rush job, something she’d snagged online, and it had cost her no small amount of money. But worth it? Yes, she thought so. Nefret had said she’d wanted her to show more skin, and she was fairly sure this qualified. She’d even cut off the sleeves to make the arms bare.
Of course, none of that would matter if she didn’t win this match like she’d promised to do. And that was a very, very dismal prospect.
“Beatrice, tell me.” Sabine walked to her side, doing her best to get Beatrice’s attention - still treating her like they were young, like she was some little kid that needed protection from the bullies. “Who did you anger enough that they put you in this match? Just let me go and talk to them, I can smooth out the situation, and then-”
Beatrice let out a long, haggard groan and spun about to face her cousin. “Do you really have that little faith in me?”
“As much faith as I would for a fox taking on a lion.” She tilted her head to the side, as if looking at Beatrice from a different angle would help her make sense of the situation. “You can’t seriously be naive enough to think you stand a chance again-”
“She’s over fifty!”
“I do not care if she’s over a hundred, you are still out of your league.”
“Totally not helpful! I don’t need you telling me stuff I already know, you’re not my Mom!”
“And for that, I am eternally grateful.”
Beatrice groaned - an exasperated, frustrated, fiery groan - just in time for her entrance music to begin to play. She let it all go, shook her head, then pointed Sabine’s way with the hardest face she could muster. “Just watch me.”
Beatrice came bursting through the curtain and promptly made her way to the ring, with perhaps a touch more pep in her step than she would’ve otherwise. The last thing she wanted to do was slow down - she didn’t want to think or get lost in her worries, her concerns, her fears. She definitely didn’t want to think about the crowd, many of whom were looking at her like she was on her way to the gallows.
As she made her way into the ring, though, she couldn't help but scan the audience. It was a big mass, and she knew the chances were fleeting, but she hoped she could spot one individual. A woman, taller than most, dark skin, piercing eyes…
Beatrice gulped, took a deep breath, and promptly made her way over to the corner.