ANNOUNCER #1: Ladies and Gentlemen, the feud between Rowan Chance and the wrestler known as Punky is something we’ve been covering for a few months now. And last night, in the Viking Hall, what began as a heated rivalry turned into a bloody war.
ANNOUNCER #2: I’ll say! Both girls looked like ground beef by the time it was over!
ANNOUNCER #1: (glaring at #2) We should warn you, ladies and gentlemen, the footage you are about to see is not for the young or meek.
ANNOUNCER #2: In other words, if there are any sissies in the room, leave now!
ANNOUNCER #1: (the glare gets darker) Let’s go to the tape now. And remember, this was an unsanctioned match, signed with an independent league who is unaffiliated with either our federation or Punky’s federation. The rules were...
ANNOUNCER #2: There were no rules! It was out and out war! A battle to the finish! And one girl sure did finish the other!
ANNOUNCER #1: Let’s go to the tape...
___
ROWAN
Standing in gorilla position, I can feel the audience's anticipation.
The main event. I've been in this spot before, but never in this
promotion. The fans aren't going to be cheering or booing for me. The
only thing they want is blood. It's gladiatorial combat and to win
them over, I've got to spill more blood than Punky. I'm not in my
wrestling gear. I have tight black leather pants, my tall boots and a
black tank top.My fists are taped and I'm ready. My music hits--Joan
Jett's "Fetish." I wait for a moment... then step through the curtain.
The fans cheer, but not for me. The moment is getting closer and
that's what they want. They want blood, and by the Goddess, I'm going
to give it to them.
VIXEN
The curtain is still flapping as I shove through the production crew
to wait in the darkness there. Outside I can hear the Viking Hall
lunatics, each and every one of them as blood-thirsty as anyone from
down throughout history - this is the Colosseum, the Ring of Shields,
that one barn from Bloodsport - and we're here to give them what they
want, pint by pint. I slam my fists together in fingerless black
leather gloves before I shove out through the curtain to Black Flag's
"My War", Henry Rollins' psychotic neurotic ranting fueling me as I
stomp down the long steel ramp in heavy blood red Doc Martens, wearing
ragged black jeans carrying tears, bloodstains and fire scorches - the
same jeans I wore in the Queen of the Deathmatch tourney in 2008 - and
a Watchmen t-shirt under a sleeveless ragged red and black flannel, my purple hair rucked back into a rough ponytail.
No make-up, no finishing touches. I came here to finish crushing this bitch. I've broken her in front of one
audience and whored her out for another - now it's time to bleed her out like a pig.
ROWAN
I watch you stomp down to the ring. I wanted to be cool. I wanted to
keep control. But the memories of what you did to me flood back and my
body starts to shiver with rage. I can't wait. I don't want to wait...
fuck it, I WON'T WAIT. You reach the apron and I rush with a banshee
scream, throwing myself between the middle and top rope straight
toward your abdomen. I don't care if we both go tumbling to the
ground. I don't care if I break my neck. Just as long as I BREAK YOUR
NECK FIRST.
VIXEN
A grin dances across my face as you come bolting straight for me as I
come up on the apron. I have not taken my eyes off you since I left
the curtain. I had no intention of climbing the corners or playing to
the crowd, there's no pyros here tonight for me to sync my entrance
with. There's just you and me. You come running forward and I brace
myself on the ropes and TAKE your lunge. "HNNNNNNH!" I grunt, wrapping
my arm around your head and my legs kicking up around your waist so we
crash down tot he concrete locked together - I hit my back and lose my
grip, but I try to tilt myself to effectively scissor-DDT you into the
floor before the shock of impact breaks my grip! "HUAHHHHHHH!" I roar
in pain as the floor slams into me.
ROWAN
I feel your arm wrap around my head and in the moment when both of us
are in the air, I think, "Does she really believe she can trap ME with
a DDT?" I slip my head out easily, but when we land, my hand lands
wrong and I feel something in my wrist snap. I feel both of us hit the
floor, but with you taking the impact, I'm okay. Except for my wrist.
Something's wrong. A pain with iron teeth bites me over and over
again. I grab my wrist and bite back the scream. I can still move my
fingers, so it isn't broken, but I've done something... --
"FUCK IT!" I scream out as the crowd roars in response. I've rolled
away from you out of instinct, but there you are, your delicious
little body writhing in pain. I shake my wrist, trying to ditch that
iron-toothed demon in my body. He holds on tight. A fan reaches out
beyond the barricade with a crutch. I give him a look. I grab the
crutch with my right hand--my good hand--and begin to stalk your
writhing body. "I remember making you writhe," I say. "I remember
making you scream." Then, I laugh. "DO IT FOR ME NOW!" And I swing the
crutch down toward your abdomen.
VIXEN
I hit hard, flat on my back and fight the wind back into my body as a
bruise creeps along my spine like dark poison. I shake my head and
claw at the concrete - there's no mats around the ring in Viking Hall.
I don't think they even OWN a set of concrete mats - as I try to haul
myself up. I manage to sit most of the way up while you rant about
something I can't quite make out over the roar of the crowd before you
slam something down at me - is that a crutch? Jesus, Viking Hall is a
retro joint - and hammer it across my taut abs. "HNNNF!" I grunt,
rolling over away from you and pushing up off the floor.
ROWAN
The crowd roars. Weapons already. "This isn't a match, Punky," I growl
at you. "You're fighting for your fucking life!" The roars of the
crowd deafen my taunts. I want to see you arch your back. I want to
hear that moan of pain. And I realize, deep in my black heart, that I
WANT YOU. I shake my head. Put that shit away, I think to myself. You
have to break her. You have to finish her. You have to DESTROY HER for
what she did. And she doesn't even know why... You use the divider to
pull yourself up, and I thrust the crutch at your back.
9:01 am
I push up off the floor and grab the wall, yanking myself up and
watching the audience - their eyes tell the story, widening in dark
delight and excitement as you creep up behind me in your full
psychotic mode. I smirk at the guy in the straw hat and twist aside,
rolling along the guardrail just in time for your thrust to slam into
the steel instead of my back, leaving me facing you. "I'm ALWAYS
fighting for my life," I hiss, and take a dancing step forward, weight
shifting back to my left foot as I THRUST my right out with a full
extension savate kick aiming the sole of my Doc into your tits. "This
IS my life!"
ROWAN
The kick catches me off guard and I fall backward, slamming the back
of my head into the metal railing. Everhing goes white for a moment
as pain wracks my head. I drop the crutch as I grab my skull with both
hands. I have three pains now. A pain in my chest, a pain in my wrist
and a pain in the back of my head. I open my eyes just in time to see
you. I don't know what you're about to do, but I do know it's gonna
hurt. I try to brace my body, but it's too late... .
VIXEN
After the graceful thrust kick snaps home and topples you back across
the aisle, I follow after you, a smirk crossing my lips as your head
crashes into the steel. I move a little gingerly as my bruised back
shifts, but there's far too much adrenaline in my system to let a
little thing like that stop me. I contrast the grace of the kick with
the brutality of my next attack, lunging forward with the mad dog fury
of Jon Moxley and seizing the guardrail in both hands, holding tight
as I just HAMMER a flurry of stomps down across your tits and belly,
trying to stomp the proverbial mudhole in you and finish with a jam of
my heel against your forehead, punctuating each stomp with a "FUCK!"
or a "YOU!" alternating in bitter savage rhhm.
ROWAN
I feel the brutal attack and there's nothing I can do to stop it. I'm
already hurt and I all I can do is take the pain. Then, at the end,
you throw a kick at my head and those cobwebs that are already there
just get thicker. I hear a deep, white noise in the back of my skull.
The crowd's roars are just echoes. I can feel the metal railing and I
try pulling myself up but my body won't react. I need to pull myself
out of this. I NEED TO. HE is watching now. I can't let him see me
fall twice. I shake my head, slap my face. I bite my lip so hard, I
can taste blood. Pain. Yes. The pain. Focus on the pain. Let it flood
through me. Let it be part of me. It's my friend. My demon-lover.
Don't fight it. Let it embrace me. Kiss me. Caress me. My senses
sharpen. I start to laugh. A dark laugh. --
-- I pull myself up to my feet and stare at you, smiling through my
bloody lip. My eyes have the stare of a thousand dying suns. "Go on,
Punky," I whisper. "Hurt me. If you can."
VIXEN
I draw back a pace after throwing a boot party in your honor, watching
you twitch on the floor. The crowd roars in delight as you suddenly
start in on yourself, slapping and biting. My lip curls in a sneer as
I draw back and wait, my fists tensed, rolling my shoulders and easing
my battered back as you let the craziness haul you up to your feet. I
read your bloody lips over the howls of lust from the crowd and I step
forward, clutching your throat in my left hand, pulling you right
against me. "I can hurt you in ways you haven't even HEARD of, little
spider," I hiss against your lips, feeling a hot SURGE of desire so
strong that it gives me a visible shudder as I press this close to
you, my urge to kiss your bloody lips almost overwhelming before I
reach out with my right hand and --
9:19 am
feel one of the blood-hungry mutants shove something into it, and I
draw back with a snarl and try to SLAM it across your head - it's a
bottle of Kenzinger, a local Philly brew with a garish pink label and
nasty heavy brown glass, sure to cut my hand up as much as your head
if it hits.
ROWAN
I see the bottle and make no effort to block it. It slams into my head
and shatters in a booze explosion, sending glass and beer everywhere.
I spin around, my head and neck turning in a dangerous direction. I
fall limp to the ground and the crowd roars. I'm on the ground, my
body twitching. But I'm laughing. A haunting laugh. "Punky..." I
whisper, like a ghostly lover calling to you from beyond the grave.
"Oh, Punky..." I begin pushing myself up, the pain writhing in my
head. I taste blood. Not the blood from my lips, but blood from my
forehead, dripping down across my eyes. My dark, black eyes. "Oh,
Punky..." I say, a smile on my face. You can see the pain etched into
my body. I stumble for a moment, catching myself on the ring apron as
my eyes lose focus. Then, they stare at you again --
-- as I swing a high, spinning kick toward your head.
VIXEN
I shake my hand out as the bottle explodes, blood and beer running
down my fingers. The sting of the cold beer in the thousand little
cuts is sweetly familiar, reminding me of brawling in bars in Portland
growing up. You drop down, but not for long - it's too soon for
anhing to keep us down for long. I stalk after you as blood and
cheap Philly beer run down your pretty face, and your laughter and
whispers ring out softly over the crowd. I don't try to stop you from
getting up, just watching and waiting, flexing my hand as blood and
beer drip from my glove, staring at you intently with my own darkly
furious eyes, meeting yours with a feeling like clashing swords as you
haul up on the apron before you gracefully twist into a kick. I make
no effort to block the kick, just TAKING it --
across the jaw. "PFFUHHHH!" I grunt, my ponail whipping around in a
blur of purple and spit and blood misting from my lips as I stagger in
a wide circle, knees wavering, almost toppling but forcing myself
upright like a drunk determined to prove she can stand, coming back
around to face you with blood running from the corner of my mouth.
"COME THE FUCK ON, CHANCE," I snarl at you. "YOU CAN DO BETTER THAN THAT."
ROWAN
You get into my face and I spin on one leg, aiming the back of my hand
into your cheek. "YOU'LL BEG ME TO STOP!" I shout as my fist pummels
toward you.
VIXEN
Your uraken cracks around and HAMMERS across my face, garishly
splitting my lip and sending blood flying as my head snaps around the
other way. This time I WOULD fall, my knees going to jelly, but I
lash out with my bloody right hand, trying to snag the neck of your
tanktop and HAUL myself back up into your face. "You'll just beg for
ME," I hiss in your face, blood running down my battered lip and chin
as my pain-hazed dark eyes bore into yours. With a snarl, I grip your
shoulders and try to SLAM my right knee up between your thighs at
point blank range, hoping to hammer into you and draw that delicious
sympathetic moan from the crowd I love hearing so much.
ROWAN
Your knee hits home and I gasp, buckling over. What your knee can't
feel is how fucking wet I am -- the leather pants protect me from you
gaining that knowledge. But the crowd groans/cheers when you bend me
over. I fall to my knees in front of you and I know exactly how that
looks and what that means. I grab your pants and pull, trying to keep
me from falling too hard. I WON'T kneel in front of you. I WON'T! I
grab your shirt and pull on it, feeling your skin against my fingers
and I remember... FUCKING REMEMBER. I kick out with my legs and try
slamming my shoulder into your belly, hopefully knocking you back.
VIXEN
I drive into your sex with my knee, grinding it home and hearing your
delicious gasp. My fingers curl in your tanktop, aching to get those
delicious breasts of yours in my hands again for a moment - the
conflict between my desire for your body and my wish to break your
spirit, between my desire to lick you and to crush you, is just
staggering - and feeling your fingers in my ragged jeans isn't helping
as I rock my hips slightly, hissing at you as you claw at my shirt,
lacing my hands in your hair. But I had planned to destroy you as
soon as I struck with my knee, and before you can take action I tense
my hands on your tank and snap my knee up again, aiming for your chin
to try to daze you before I bend down and snake my right arm around
your head, trying to kick back and PLANT you in --
the aisle with a kneeling DDT, trying to hit the first actual
wrestling move of the fight so far!
ROWAN
9:48 am
I feel your arm wrap around my head and... FUCKING NO! My face
plummets toward the cement and I hear the sound of something crack.
Then, I hear a gunshot. And then, just blackness.
I spike down hard against the floor and my body twitches as it falls
limp. You see my hand shiver for a moment. I try raising my head,
covered in blood. I take a breath... then fall face first onto the
concrete. No movment at all.
VIXEN
"Bitch," I hiss, sitting up with a faint snarl as your bloodied face
drops back down. That kicking slamming DDT hurt my bruised back a
little more. I push my hand into the center of your back and push to
my feet, shaking my ponail back as I glare down at you. It's
tempting to go for a pin with you laid the fuck out like that, but I
know crazy - i know it all too well - and I know it'll take more than
that to put you down for a full 3 count. I stomp down the aisle,
bloodied and battered already but full of a rolling hot fury, and
throw the ring apron back to a ROAR from the crowd. I reach under,
hooking my fingers into two of the ubiquitous six foot CARD TABLES
that every arena seems to store under the ring, hauling them out to a
savage barbarian glee from the crowd and the traditional:
"WE WANT TA-BLES!
WE WANT TA-BLES!
WE WANT TA-BLES!"
And I smirk and kick the legs up on a table, dragging it by the legs
down the aisle to where you lay in a pool of blood, setting it up
across the aisle with a hard KRUNK. I bend down and try to drag you
up with a handful of dark hair and a hand at the waistband of your
leather pants, trying to get you up on your feet with both of us
facing away from the table.
ROWAN
You lift me, but it's dead weight. My limbs won't respond. The weight
sends spikes at your wounded back but you manage to put me against the
table. --
-- I can feel my body moving. I feel my back pressed against
something... familiar. I know this sensation. I've been here before.
But the darkness is so seductive. "Stay with me," it whispers. "Stay
with me, Rowan. I'll keep you safe. I'll keep you warm." I push the
darkness away. I know my real enemy, and it isn't him. I open my
eyes--dimness all around me. I'm... a table? The crowd. Where is
Punky? I'm starting to remember where I am and what I'm doing here.
Bitch knocked me out. THE BITCH KNOCKED ME OUT! I look for you, my
rage overcoming the fog in my head. I see you and I shout "FUCK YOU
PUNK!" and throw my body at you, nothing but a storm of punches and
kicks.
VIXEN
I was intending to get you up and keep my arms around you so I could
hit a backwards falling move through the table, but you end up being
such deadweight that I just let you sort of slump against the table
for a second while I roll my shoulders. I take the moment to play to
the crowd, sensing a slight dip in their tide of bloodlust. "YOU WANT
FUCKIN' TABLES OR NOT, PHILADELPHIA?!" I roar, and the crowd roars
back, full volume again - but the noise apparently wakes you up as you
suddenly come at me in a battering flurry! "AGH!" I grunt, staggered
back, covering up as much as possible, your fists and feet thudding
into me as I bring my forearms up and block kicks with my knees like
this is fucking Muay Thai all of a sudden.
ROWAN
My barrage of kicks and thrusts pushes us toward the announce table.
I'm screaming with every kick and punch, swearing and cursing and
shouting your name. The announcers instinctively get up, grabbing
their notes. As one of my kicks hits you hard, I grab one of your
blocking arms and pull you into an Irish whip, throwing you toward the
announce table, screaming as I do.
VIXEN
I'm used to girls screaming my name and used to girls punching me, but
it's usually not at the same time like this. I'm staggered back under
your raw fury, finally caught by the arm and whipped into the announce
table - we somehow got all the way around the ring? Shit, you really
are crazy angry - and I growl as my back hits it, arching it and
sagging against the table on my elbows. "HNNNHhhhhh!"
ROWAN
I see you against the table, your back slightly arched, your pierced
breasts aching against the fabric of your shirt. I see your eyes shut,
your lips slightly open. I can't help it. I have to. I reach forward,
both hands on either side of your face and I put my lips against yours
in a brutal, bloody kiss. Our breasts just touching, our hips
together. Then, I say, "Embrace the pain, Punk." And I take a step
back, raise my arms and FLIP forward, aiming my body at yours and the
edge of the table.
VIXEN
I hiss the pain out through my teeth, my lips softly parted as I arch
my back against the edge of the table and the cheap BSCW apron that
hangs in front of it when I feel your lips on mine. I melt against you
unwillingly, lips parted and tongue sliding over your lips, tasting
your blood, my breasts hot against yours and my hips rocking forward,
ragged jeans grinding your sexy leather pants before you break the
kiss, leaving me gasping. Then you lithely FLIP over, your ass
crashing into my tits and driving me up off my feet, our combined
weight CRASHING the table down in a flurry of broken wood and twisted
bodies and notes and microphones and paper cups of cheap vodka!
"UNHGHHHHHH!" I groan, shuddering as I lay in the shattered table
under you and the fans chant like savages.
ROWAN
I stand over you triumphantly, raising one hand. I look at the
audience and they cheer my name. "ROW-AN! ROW-AN! ROW-AN!" I smile and
look down at you, my blood dripping from my forehead onto your body.
You writhe under me and I pick you up by the collar of your shirt, the
fabric slightly ripping as I do. I lift you up and put your face next
to mine. "Give up now," I say. "Or be humiliated later. It's your
choice, Punky. What is it?"
VIXEN
Your blood drips across me, warm and sweet and I hiss as I shift
again, trying to ease the ragged pain in my back and the ache in my
chest. As you haul me up, though, tearing my Watchmen shirt with your
blood splattering across the Comedian's blood on the smiling button,
my flannel fluttering around my arms, I snarl into your face at your
choice. I go for a loose grip at your hip with my left hand, swaying
on my unsteady Docs. "Why don't you ... save your voice ... for what
it's good for ..." I pant, teeth bared inches from your bloodied face.
I suddenly slap my right hand forward hard against your belly and aim
to SHOVE it down, flat as a snake, into your leather pants, curling my
fingers to try to slap a raw nasty cxnt CLAW on you under your
protetctive armor. "... SCREAMING."
ROWAN
Your hand moves fast and gets right under my pants. The crowd's roar
is louder than anhing we've heard. As your hand grasps me, my face
loses all composure. My body arches and my voice cries out in a sound
that is both pleasure and pain. My body arches against yours, our
breasts pressing together and I arch up on my toes. I bend back,
further and further, as the sound I make gets louder and louder... I'm
paralyzed. My fingers clench against your shirt, piercing the fabric,
digging deep into your skin. One hand switches up, grabbing you by the
hair. "O-OH F-F-FFFUCKKKK!" I scream. And my body starts twitching as
an orgasm starts building inside of me. So easily... you can make me
so weak... so fucking... easy...
VIXEN
"SCREAM , you god damn whore, fucking SCREAM!" I snarl at you, raw and
hot, hissing in pleasure as you drag your breasts over mine, my
nipples achingly hard, piercings perfectly visible under my torn tee.
As you dig your hand into my skin, lock up my hair, giving me a hot
dose of pain, I purr and roughly shove your tanktop up with my free
left hand, looking to roughly knead and dig my talons into your bared
breast, the flashes of the fan's cellphones all around like a thousand
exploding stars as I work my hand inside you, brutal and hot, fingers
sinking in deep to that silky softness I've come to know so well and
dream of under layers of protective hatred. My fingers curl, raking
you, beckoning you. "LET THEM ALL FUCKING HEAR IT, ROWAN," I hiss,
tangled with you, hissing in ecstasy.
ROWAN
My knees are trembling. I feel you push every single button you know
so well. I want to put my lips against yours. I want to thrust my body
against yours. And when I feel you lift my shirt, I gasp and moan. I
know the cameras are catching all of this. I know it will be on the
internet in moments. You fucking humiliated me again... AGAIN. I
struggle to open my eyes and look at you. See your smile. That knowing
smile. I wrap one arm around the back of your neck and grab your free
hand. I lift one leg up high above my head and put my knee under your
chin. Then, I let myself fall back to the unforgiving cement as I pull
you into the Widow's Web, your hand still clutched under my leather
pants, I pull hard and glare at you as I do.
VIXEN
I gasp as you sling your arm behind my head, knowing THAT positioning
all too well, and as your leg folds up into my throat we DROP down, my
body sprawled out over the wreckage of the announce table, the
announcers screaming on either side of us into their microphones over
the roar of the crowd. My ass - gorgeous in my tight ragged black
jeans - bobs up and down as my hips buck, your folded leg closing my
throat off as you clutch me across you. I snarl at you, blood
drippping from my lips onto your chest, and tense my right hand
harder, savagely claw-fucking you, ravishing your sex even with my
wrist jammed at an awkward angle, left hand flailing at my side. I
remember you putting me out with this on the floor of your federation
arena, in the wreckage of a DIFFERENT announce table. --
NOT AGAIN. "NNGNAGGKKKK ...!" I gurgle, drool and blood slipping from
my lips as I rake my right hand inside you and ball my flailing left
hand, aiming pistoning punches for your side!
ROWAN
I feel you attacking on both fronts, but I embrace the pain. And the
pleasure. "You can make me cum," I whisper, our lips so close
together. "But you'll be the one knocked out." Then, I pull harder,
pulling your face closer to mine. And my lips kiss yours so gently, so
sweetly. Not like an enemy, but a lover. "Step into my parlor," I
whisper, kissing your helpless lips. "Step in and stay... forever."
And then I tighten the hold down, laughing into your mouth as I
kiss... and kiss... and kiss...
VIXEN
I shudder as you sink the hold in deeper, hissing into my face and
then kissing my lips, over and over. Kisses. Fucking kisses. I LOVE
getting kissed, and you're one of the best kisses I've ever had the
misfortune of meeting, with silky sweet lips and the best taste and
soft teasing breaths ... "Mmmmmfffhh ..." I moan softly. It'd be so
easy to slip out like this. It'd be like a fairy tale. Getting
kissed to sleep by a gorgeous witch. But .. but ... I'm not going to
let you knock me out twice with this hold. No. HELL no. It'll become
a MEME if I let that happen. I snarl, twisting my head, grinding my
throat against your leg and losing strands of purple hair to your
clutching arm around my head, but getting little twisted gasps of
breath as I rake my right hand up, leaving bloody--
scores over your mons and lower belly and clutch at your leather pants
at the hip with my dripping right hand, my left hand cinching in as
well. My long legs fold up, drawing under me, planting my Docs on the
wreckage as I SNARL at you, red-cheeked, and STAND, my abs taut as
fucking steel as I LIFT you up as high as I can in the hold and then
SLAM you down to your back on the concrete with a strangling staggered
powerbomb!
ROWAN
"GAHHH!" I shriek as my body slams against the concrete, knocking the
wind from my lungs, punishing my spine. You feel my grip loosen on the
hold, just a little. The combinatin of your clutch between my legs and
the impact make my clit twitch... I'm about to explode. And I know you
can feel it --
-- under your fingers. I tighten the hold back up again. I laugh at
you. "N-no-oh-no," I whisper. But you can hear the strains of pain in
my voice. "You are mine, little fly," I tell you. "And when you are
out, I am going to strip you naked and show you off like a trophy." I
put another kiss on your lips, knowing what kind of damage I'm doing.
"You want me," I whisper into your mouth. "And I want you. But one of
us has willpower. And the other..." I laugh. "Is a purple-headed
weakling who is about to meet her match." I growl at you. "You almost
made me cum, little bitch. You are NEVER going to do that again."
VIXEN
I hiss as I land the bomb, dropping to my knees. My right hand splays
out, resting against your pulsing sex, crushing into it as I sag
against you, almost pulling free of your grip as it struggles, but you
tighten against me again. Your hiss about showing off my naked body
makes me shudder against my will, the dark image dancing in my mind
for a moment, and then you kiss me and I know I'm almost done,
moaning into your soft kiss, melting against you - but you push your
luck a little too far, stacking on another taunt. My blearing eyes
open with a spark of fury and I narrow them as I tighten my right
hand, feeling slick heat against my palm under those dark sweaty
leathers, reaching up and clutching your tanktop between your tits
with my left hand. I PLANT my feet, blood drooling from--
my swollen parted lips as I THRUST both legs up, hauling you up HIGH,
and DIG my right hand down inside you, fingers curling deep inside
your folds. "NNRRRRRRRnnNHRRHAHHH!" I snarl at you, a savage primal
roar as my fingers flex, promising to make you a whore again as I DIVE
forwards, toppling full length to try to BOMB you to the concrete
again and HAMMER my hand deep inside your twitching dripping sex,
rending at your tanktop with my left hand as we plunge down!
ROWAN
11:04 am
I slam against the concrete a second time and I feel my body explode.
Explode with pleasure, explode with pain. Sweet, sweet pain. My oldest
ally. My oldest enemy. Fucking traitor who kisses me with promises
then stabs me in the back. And as I slam down on the concrete, my clit
erputs under your knowing grasp and my whole body shudders as I scream
out loud. The hold isn't broken, but it may as well be. There's no
pressure. Just my leg thrown over your shoulder. My back arches and my
pert nipples thrust up, exposed and vulnerable. My hips buck wild
against your hand and I gasp over and over again, sucking in air,
screaming, sucking in air and screaming. "F-F-FUC-KKKK!" And in the
back of my mind, I realize my fucking pride gave you that. And when my
body collapses, it's all I can do --
VIXEN
I DRIVE down into you, and I feel you just give and give and give
against my hand, a submission that no referee can accept, my thumb
caressing your pulsing clit almost lovingly as I drain every
shuddering drop I can before I snake my dripping hand out of your
strained and soaked leathers, peeling your leg and arm off me so I can
roll to my back beside you, panting, the two of us for a moment,
blood and bruises aside, looking like lovers who missed each other so
much we tore apart the furniture in our reunion fuck. But I suddenly
sit up straight, Undertaker-style - the indy marks in the audience
helpfully shout "BONG!" in creepy unison as I do - and stagger to my
feet. I lasciviously lick my dripping hand to a roar from the crowd,
who will never know how fucking deliciously sweet you are
as I stagger to the ring on THIS side now, throwing the BSCW apron
back (Blood Sweat and Chairs Wrestling, bringing you the finest in
hardcore since 1996) and reaching under the ring, still sucking my
fingers like a popsicle, coming up with a KENDO STICK to another roar
from the crowd! I hold the shinai high, prompting the announcers to
wonder why those are kept under the ring, and stalk over to you,
taking it two-handed and aiming a CRACKING flurry of blows down across
your belly and breasts and finishing with a snapping blow aimed
between your thighs and then a slicing cut at your forehead, trying to
lay you out with a martial arts display as I drip sweat and blood and
sway on my bloody Docs!
ROWAN
Wrapped up in the sweet pleasure you gave me, then suddenly, thrust
into a world of pain as I feel the kendo stick snap against me over
and over again. All I can do is roll up to protect myself. I try
catching the kendo stick between my arm and body, but you pull it away
and punish my arm for its resistance with another swift crack. Then, a
swift blow to my already bleeding forehead and I'm rocked into that
famiiar world where darkness sings to me... calling me to stay in his
arms... I can feel something happening to me... but I can't stop it...
VIXEN
I know my fucking audience. I finish the kendo sticking with its huge
CLACK CLACK CLACK CLACK CLACK of bamboo on flesh and slash your
forehead open more, and I stagger to the railing. "GIMME A FUCKIN'
BEER!" I demand, and at least four are thrust at me. I take the one in
the paper cup some poor sap paid 8 bucks for and down the whole thing
lewdly, pouring it over my bloody face and down my sweaty chest, my
shirt clinging to my tits as I smash the cup against my forehead and
roar. "WHITE RUSSIAN!" I cry out and the audience roars in wordless
approval as I take a handful of your ragged tanktop, hauling you to
your feet. I twist to stand beside you, left arm around your shoulders
and left leg hooked over your right, and I brace the kendo stick
across your throat --
Handle in my right hand and tip held in my left as I lean us forward
and then SNAP back, my beer-soaked purple ponail arcing, looking to
HAMMER you into the concrete with a stick-assisted Russian Legsweep -
and if it hits, I fluidly roll over to straddle your hips, bracing the
stick across your chest with both hands as the Extreme Referee slides
out to count the pin on the concrete!
ROWAN
My back and my throat scream out in pain as you hit the move. I don't
even know where I am, what I'm doing. I feel your body on mine and I
remember being in Lord Tantalus' club, our bodies twisted together,
sweat mixing with sweat, your lips on mine... and how you owned me.
Destroyed me. Made me scream out your name. Said I was yours. --
-- and I hear someone say, "One!" somewhere in the back of my head.
But I don't care. I want that again. Someone to own me. To break me.
I'm always the one who wins. I'm always the one who... wait. "One?"--
-- "TWO!"--
I'm in a match. I'm in a match and I feel Punky's body on me. Holding
me down. No. NO. FUCKING NO!!! I KICK and TWIST and lift my shoulder
off the floor. --
I remember where I am. I KNOW where I am. The little bitch put me down
for TWO! I HAVE to get it together. I can't let her do this. Not
after... oh fuck. Little bitch made me cum and broke the Widow's Web.
MADE ME CUM AND BROKE THE WIDOW'S WEB. My head fills with a black
hatred and a red fury, mixing together in a dark alchemy that's all
poison. but I'm still on the concrete floor and she's still on top of
me and my body isn't doing what it's supposed to. I feel her moving
after I broke the count. Need to move... need to counter... need to
FINISH HER.
VIXEN
"FUCK," I snarl as you roll your shoulder. God damn it, the one bitch
in this whole fucking business who's as stubborn as me, and we end up
mortal enemies. I grind my hips a little on yours, feeling a
delicious hot low tingle that I have to force down with battering from
my mental fists. I ditch the stick with a snarl - it's a fine weapon,
but I'll need something finer to break your will. Break you ... yes.
You DO have a penchant for being broken. I lick my bloody lips,
seeing the fury on your gorgeous crimson-masked face - God damn, I
have busted you open properly - and I move, slithering off you to your
left side, a hand on your shoulder and hip as I try to shove you onto
your right, sliding my knees forward to set into your back as I kneel
beside you, taking deep breaths --
burning my brutalized throat, my aching back pulsing as I lock my
hands around your jaw and over your thighs and ROLL back, trying to
lift your bloodied form up into a BOW AND ARROW! "FUCKING SCREAM,
ROWAN, SCREAM LIKE YOU FUCKING MEAN IT!"
ROWAN
You roll me up into the bow and arrow and my back reminds me of what
you did to me before, still not completely healed. I bite down on my
lip, refusing to give you what you want, but my scream is bursting
behind my lips. "I WON'T!" I shout at you, my back arching so far, the
audience is gasping. "NO! I WON'T!" But my back sends pain up through
my throat, bursting at my teeth and tongue so hard, I think they'll
shatter and explode. And with you holding my left wrist, that injury
starts to scream at me, too. I pull with my right wrist, trying to get
free of your grip, hoping I can escape before you make me scream...
VIXEN
We have not been having a match - we have been rawly beating the shit
out of each other, and it's taken a toll on me as this hold has me
running with sweat, folded legs trembling with the effort of forcing
my knees up deep into your back. My grip slips from your jaw and down
your shoulder, clutching at your left wrist. I feel a spasm in your
hand and I narrow my eyes, trying to TWIST that wrist - you might've
hurt it during one of the times you were putting me down and I wasn't
around to see it - and digging my hands into your thighs, creaking on
the leather as I SNARL and FORCE you up, wavering back and forth as
you yank at me. "No no no no no NO NO NO NO" I snarl furiously. "GIVE
ME - MY - SCREAM ..." I practically froth, but I feel you yanking,
starting to slide free, struggling ..!
ROWAN
I get one hand free and USE IT. I thrust my elbow down into your
kidney, thrusting it again and again and AGAIN. And each time I
connect, I shout.
"I!"
"WILL!"
"NEVER!"
"SCREAM!"
"FOR!"
"YOU!"
VIXEN
"AGH! AGGH! AAHHGHH!" I cry out, writhing as you just fucking SPIKE
me with your free arm, driving your elbow into me over and over as I
spasm and finally release you, kicking you off my folded legs and
giving a last twisting yank to your left wrist before I curl up,
clutching at my kidney and kicking my boots, my breath ragged and hot.
ROWAN
I fall away from you, clutching my wrist. It burns and burns and
burns. I look up at you, holding your side. I flick my wrist a few
times, as if I can ditch the pain that easily. Then, I stumble to my
feet, stumble back against the railing, the fans patting me on my
shoulders. I suddenly realize my top is still pulled up. Before I pull
it down, my eyes bore hatred into your squirming body. I turn around.
"Get your pictures now, boys!" I shout at the crowd. Then, I pull the
tank top back down and give them a double one-finger salute. I turn
back to you, stumbling and limping. I pick you up by your fucking
purple locks and get you to your feet. Then, I throw you into the ring
and climb in after you, barely able to keep my balance. --
VIXEN
"Unnnhhh ..." I grunt as you haul me up by the vivid violet hair, my
thick ponail soaked with sweat and blood and beer and splintered
with wood now, blood running down my cheek and chin as my glistening
tits bounce softly in my torn Watchmen tee, rolling under the botttom
rope as you shove me in, laying on my back under the ring lights and
recovering my breath, kneading my side with the heel of my palm.
"Fucking ... cxnt ...." I snarl, hot and breathless, using every
moment of the respite.
ROWAN
With you on your back, I stand in the corner and slowly raise my arms
above my head, my fingers splayed out: the sign for the Widow's Kiss.
As you stumble to your feet, the crowd starts revving up. They know
what's coming. And I remember what happened when I hit you with this
before: your eyes glazing over, your body going soft. To see you here,
in the middle of the ring, helpless under my boot... yes. This is what
I want. To make you pay for what you did to me. You stagger to your
feet, looking for me. And I rush forward for my swinging DDT, grabbing
one arm, swinging around, grasping your neck and...
VIXEN
The ring. The canvas. I know the canvas, and it knows me. I've bled
into this very mat - painted it with my own self-portrait. I breathe
in the canvas, the rosin, the generations of sweat and bloody victory,
and I force myself up, slamming my gloved fists into the canvas and
thrusting up, my taut tattooed biceps flexing hard. I draw my feet
under me and stagger upright, looking for you - you won't be far, no.
And you aren't. The crowd is roaring as you lunge forward, cinching
my head, taking my arm - NO. Fucking NO! After the last two times
this happened I spent a truly shocking amount of money paying a lucha
girl of almost the same build as you and I to watch tapes of your
Widow's Kiss and learn it exactly - and she practiced with me for four
hours a day, setting the move up --
"RRRRRRRAH!"
over and over until I could get out of it in my sleep, which I do now
- I snap my arm back down out of your grasp as you kick into the
swing, right at the height of it where your grip has the least
leverage. Both hands go to your hips, and I lean forward hard,
slamming your feet back downt to the mat before I bend my knees deep,
driving my shoulder into you and clasping your waist tight in my arms
as I ARCH back, punishing my back and kidney to carry you over in a
rainbow arc, trying to turn your spinning DDT into a gorgeous Northern
Lights Suplex, releasing it instead of bridging for a pin since my
back isn't in the mood for a bridge just now!
ROWAN
I feel you catch me in the middle of my swing and use my momentum
against me. Then, I feel myself thrown over your shoulder, my back
landing HARD against the mat. I bounce back up, holding my back with
my right hand, a silent scream on my lips. I'm sitting up, my eyes
shut tight. "F-FFUCK!" I mutter. How did she do that? How did she...
No time to think. I grab the ring rope and pull myself up, my back
screaming at me to stop. I'm against the ropes, holding on to the top
one when I turn to look at you...
VIXEN
I hit the release Northern Lights to a huge pop - Philly might love
blood, but every wrestling fan everywhere loves a pretty suplex - and
I bounce off it, rolling to one knee. You sit up, gorgeous screaming
in silence, clutching at your back as you haul yourself up. I rise to
my feet slowly, lank purple hair hanging in my bloodied face, looking
as demented as a certain hardcore icon -I am wearing a red sleeveless
flannel and a smiley face shirt for a reason, after all - and I RUSH
forward just as you turn around, hooking my right arm and aiming to
SLAM it across your chest and throat, throwing myself forward to try
to topple us BOTH to the outside with the famous Cactus Clothesline!
ROWAN
I blink through the sweat and blood and see a red flannel rushing at
me. I know EXACTLY what that means. There is not time to stop you. I
grasp the ropes with my hands and twist my ankles around the lower one
to help stop the momentum rushing at me. You slam into my body and
both of us swing around and over the top rope. But while you fall to
the floor below, my hands and ankles cling to the top rope, keeping me
from falling over. Like the spider of my namesake, I hang from the top
rope, looking down at you. The hit still stunned me, though and it
takes a moment to catch my breath. My head is ringing with the bells
of a thousand churches and I can't shake them away. I carefully slide
from the top rope to the apron. --
"YOU WANT FOLEY?" I shout at you. Then, I look at the audience. "YOU
WANT FOLEY?" They shout a huge 'YES!" in return. I raise one hand over
my head, and when you stagger up, I rush down the apron, jump and
flip, sending my body your way.
VIXEN
I hit the Cactus and topple us both straight over the top strand, but
you cling like a - I dunno, a cockroach, maybe? They walk on ceilings
and shit, right? - to the top rope, and I topple over and do a fairly
graceful Nestea Plunge rolling my shoulders to absorb the landing as I
sprawl across the concrete. I roll my head around, not seeing you
anywhere as the audience chants "FO-LEY FO-LEY FO-LEY FO-LEY!" and I
shift over my hip, not hearing your screams over the roar of the crowd
and the faint whamming gongs in my head, getting to my boots and
staggering around just in time to take another flip dive from you,
your ass sending me sprawling back along the concrete to fetch up
against the railing! "PFUHHHHHHH!"
ROWAN
"FO-LEY! FO-LEY! FO-LEY!" they scream. I raise one hand and they roar.
I grab at your sleeveless red checkers and pull them off your
shoulders, throwing it into the crowd. "You're finished, Punk," I
growl at you. "I'm going to break you in half. And I know exactly
where to do it." I grab you by the hair and start dragging you
alongside the apron, toward the ramp, limping and staggering as I go.
My body is giving up on me. After all this damage, I don't have much
left. I have to finish you now. Once and for fucking all. --
I get you to the ramp and stagger, trying to drag you by your hair up
to the stage where all the crowd can see.
VIXEN
(Okay - how about a double reverse whammy finish - after you barely
kick out of the Skullfuck, you're still dead so I drag YOU up to the
stage to do what villainy you had planned to ME ... I take too long
taunting, you hit something nasty and Widow's Kiss me, I dramatically
kick out - but bleeding heavily, I want a full crimson mask like
yours- and you sag on me all Undertaker disbelieving HHH kicked out
style - and then we can trade a few bloodied blows before I hit
something - maybe a surprise bloody kiss, and then go for the VPS and
you do the Kane Reversal into your split-legged tombstone ... )
VIXEN
Everhing is black for a moment after you hit the flip dive, whiting
out into a sort of peaceful roar. It's like the beach at night, and
the tide is loud but far below me, and I'm up on the sand where it's
packed by the wind into flat-topped dunes and "Nnnhhhahh no ..." I'm
suddenly chilled and FUCK YOU YOU TOOK MY FOLEY FLANNEL. I can hear
my beloved plaid causing a riot in the crowd as you drag me by the
hair, staggering after you, both of us bloodied, brutalized, bruised,
and bone tired, dripping sweat, clothes clinging to us. I can smell
the scent of your sex on you, coming from your warm skin in slow
sensuous waves, and it pisses me off, my alpha female pheromones in
full flourish. My scalp aches agonizingly as we hit the ramp, but as
we pass the table I set up an eternity ago --
I stop short, leaning forward against your grip, and suddenly aim two
sharp, hammering hooks into your kidney from behind before I give you
a rough SHOVE back against the upright table, trying to punish your
lower back and break your grip!
ROWAN
12:37 pm
Your two strikes stun me, my whole body losing control. I stumble
forward and then feel you push against my back. I fall forward, my
belly falling against the table. I feel my palms hit it, covered in
blood and slick with sweat. I see my blood pouring onto the table.
This is a dangerous place. I have to move. I have to get away from
this. I feel a dark shadow crossing over me. An old Viking Doom
haunting me in the Viking Hall. I try to push away, but I feel your
hands on me from behind...
VIXEN
I bend over and take a deep breath as you hit the table and stumble
back into me, taking my one perfect shot. I throw your right arm
behind my neck, my left arm across your shoulders and I bend down,
hooking your right knee up high and deep with my right hand, causing a
delicious oiled creak of leather and a waft of pure Rowan scent that
makes my knees weak for a moment before I snarl and HOIST you high, up
onto my right shoulder, my back screaming as I TWIST around and KICK
my feet out, trying to plunge down and end up DRIVING your head and
shoulders through the fucking table with my Leg Hook Backdrop Driver,
the SKULLFUCK!
The helpful audience illustrates as soon as I go to hook your leg -
"SKULL-FUCK-YOU!
SKULL-FUCK-YOU!
SKULL-FUCK-YOU!"
ROWAN
I feel you twist my body under your grip. I know what's coming. I try
to fight it, try to twist out... but it's all happening so fast. You
know this move. Know it like a lover. And I'm in position before I can
do anhing else. Not even think. Not even breathe.
Then, I'm plummeting down. My head hits the table and my shoulders
crash against its remains as it shatters all around us. Then, I crash
again against the cement, my whole world turning white and silent. My
hands crash against the floor, palms up, unmoving. My legs are
danlging like a dead spider's legs. My eyes are shut and calm. My
mouth, only parted open, still bleeding. After the crash and impact,
my body shudders for one moment, then falls completely still. No
sound, no movement, no nothing.
You rush over on top of me, grabbing one leg, shouting at the ref. He
jumps down to make the count.
"ONE!" he shouts. I make no move to break the pin.
"TWO!" he shouts. The crowd chanting along with him. This is it. This
is the end. You have me. You beat me in the Club, you beat me in my
own fed, and now, you're going to beat me here. Leave me bloody and
broken. The ref's hand raises up one more time and starts coming down.
The crowd is already chanting, "THREE!" And his hand falls...
VIXEN
I hit the Skullfuck and for a moment I'm just blinking in the rush of
silence, that indrawn gasp before the Crowd Beast resumes its roaring
frenzy, tasting the blood and loving it, singing its hymns of
"SKULL-FUCK-YOU!" (I'm proud of that one, started it back in CZW when
I murdered Lizzy Borden with a Skullfuck through a light tube table)
and "HO-LY SHIT!". I bounce up off the impact and look back at you,
seeing you laying broken in the wreckage and I exhaustedly slither
over and flop across you on my back, laying across your breasts with
my left arm draped on your forehead and my right hooking your legs up,
rolling to my left hip to pin your long body as hard as I can manage
in my exhausted state. The referee's hand cracks the concrete and the
crowd chants along with the rhhm --
I plant my Docs on the concrete, my legs splayed in my ragged jeans in
a loose bridge, almost going to my toes, laying my whole body across
your limp form - feeling the warmth of you, the scent of us around us
with the carpentry dry sweetness of broken wood. I can get this pin.
I can end this, here and now - a win in my fed and a win in your damn
spooky Club and a win here, and I'll have it all proved. The Extreme
Referee goes for the Three and I sag wearily into you, panting.
ROWAN
Just as the ref's hand comes down for the three, some part of me lifts
my shoulder up off the concrete, a weak gesture that would not have
broken any kind of strong pin, just as the ref's hand is about to hit
down. The crowd goes silent, completely silent, as the ref stands and
shows TWO fingers to the time keeper. Then, there's a ROAR. The ref
says, "This match continues."
My limp arm falls back down beside me. My breath is thin and shallow.
I may not even be conscious. When I look back, I won't even remember
what happened after the table. I won't know how I lifted my arm. All I
remember is the pain. Swollowing me. Devouring me. Too much. It's too
much. But somehow, I fought through. Somehow, I pulled up my shoulder.
The crowd begins to chant, "THIS IS AWESOME!" And somewhere in my
head, I hear that. Somewhere, in my head, I know that you hit me with
one of your strongest moves and I survived. I kicked out. And with
blood and sweat and pain all over my face, I smile. And begin to
laugh.
VIXEN
I roll to the side and drop your legs as you get a shoulder up. You
got that fucking thing up a CREDIT CARD. If I had enough energy to
pin you properly with my belly across your chest and with a forearm in
your throat like William Regal recommends, you'd have been laid the
fuck down. I snarl as I sit up sharply - "BONG!", says the audience
helpfully - and then you start to do your Crazy Girl Laugh again. At
first I just squeeze my eyes shut against it but you keep laughing and
laughing and finally I move to the railing at a stagger, SHOVING a
handful of Philly fans back and causing a minor rippling riot to break
out as people stumble into each other - and I reach over and grab a
folding chair from some ticketholder who's not using it, probably
because they're laying on the ground --
I snap it shut and move to where you lay and begin to SMASH the chair
over and over into your body where you lay on the ground. "HA! HA!
HA! HA! HA! HA! HA! HA! HA!" I snarl with each slam,t he chair
CRUMPING into the concrete brutally, bending it until the neckrest
eventually flies off with a clatter, hurling the broken chair aside.
"I'll show you something funny, you little slut. You already came for
these people - now you can fucking get broken in half for them." I
snarl down at you, taking you by the left wrist and looking to just
DRAG your hopefully limp form up the ramp, all the way to the stage,
where the producers flip on the spotlights!
ROWAN
You slam that chair down on me and my laughter gets louder and louder.
Each shot raises the volume one tic. "You can't hurt me!" I shout at
you. "You can't hurt me!" The last shot hits me hard and I wince, my
voice falling into a whimper. "Can't... h-hurt..." I barely whisper.
You grab my left wrist and I almost scream, clutching at it as you
drag me to the ramp... then up the ramp... I feel the lights flicker
on. The crowd isn't a crowd anymore. It's a mob. And they want one of
us to fall. Like the gladiators of old, only one of us can make it out
of here. Only one of us will be leaving under her own power... if
that. But only one of us will be the victor. You pull me to the top of
the ramp and back onto my feet. I can barely stand, my black tank top
is now crimson. --
My black leather pants look like they've gone through a tie dye. I
swing a weak punch at you, not even knowing if it hit. "You
can--cc-can't..." I mumble the rest. I stumble to one knee, but then
rise back up again, my face pointed to the floor. But then, I look up
at you. Black hair, matted with blood falls over my eyes. I look like
a Japanese ghost. I grin at you, my teeth red and stained. "You.
Can't. Hurt. Me." The words sound like an ancient curse. I raise my
arms up, like I'm asking for the worst you can do. I want it. Give it
to me.
VIXEN
I haul you up on the stage, snarling as I struggle to bring you
upright, only for you to fall to one knee and look up at me, grinning
through your mask of blood. "I don't need to hurt you, Rowan. I
already OWN you," I hiss down at you - not a taunt or an insult, just
a plain statement of fact. I clutch a handful of your bloodied
tanktop in my fist with my left hand and chamber my right arm, fingers
curled and readying to slam home an Atemi, a palm strike aimed for the
bridge of your nose. It might fucking kil you -Mister MIyagi was
going to kill the evil Cobra Kai master with it in the Karate Kid II,
but he honked his nose instead. I'm not going to honk your nose. I'm
just going to break it.
ROWAN
You make your pose and my hands, out above me, snap open, fingers
splayed. The crowd ROARS and as you thrust forward, I catch your right
arm with my left, spinning around, up behind you, grabbing your neck
with my right arm, my legs kicking out behind you, pulling you down
toward the iron ramp, the Widow's Kiss firmly in place. There is no
escape this time, little Vixen...
VIXEN
"Fuck m-" is as far as I get when you catch my arm and yank it out,
using it as leverage to launch yourself up and around, my long body
twisting with you, my boots leaving the steel and legs swinging out
through the air as I leave the stage entirely only for my weight to
come PILING down onto my secured head as you fucking SPIKE me into the
steel with a sickening *CLANG!* My whole body is DRIVEN into the
stage at an angle by the Widow's Kiss, my legs thrust out and then
collaping to the stage as I BOLT upright, rebounded of the steel so
the whole audience can see my head garishly split open, a wave of
blood masking my face as my dazed eyes roll back to blank whites and I
topple over backwards from my knees, my legs unfolding and splaying
out as I drop to my back on the stage with a --
soft thud of pure finality, my tits jiggling from the impact, pierced
nipples agonizlngly peaked in my clinging wet bloodied shirt, and my
legs splayed out in my ripped jeans. Spasms shake my whole body, my
arms jittering, legs quivering, drool trickling from my parted lips as
I lay in utter fucking destruction.
ROWAN
I lay there for a moment, unable to move, almost unaware of what just
happened. The drop on my back stunned me, and I struggle even to sit
up. Then, I see you there, lying beside me, your head cut open and
bleeding.
I know what happened. And I smile.
The crowd is an incidental sound in my head now. I don't give a single
shit about them. My whole world is about you now. Looking at you, flat
on your back, your head just to the side, blood oozing down your
forehead. Your lips, still bleeding, just a little apart. Your hands,
palms up, motionless. Your body twitches... echoes of pain to an
unconscious mind.
I crawl toward you, barely able to move. Every limb screams at me to
stop. My desire for pain is gone now. I only want victory. Just inches
away. I can't even summon the will to cover you. All I can do is throw
up one arm and put it across your breasts. I'm close enough to
whisper, "You're mine now, Megan. MINE." The ref drops down and starts
his count.
He counts "ONE!" and I smile.
He counts "TWO!" and I start to laugh.
His hand falls for the third count and I know I've finally got you...
