[Katherine The Great]

"Keep your eyes on the head and shoulders, Katherine. Usually, they lead the way."

While she's a total pain in my round ass, most times, Mom knows her shit in the ring. I go up to my toes and lever that arm, bending you over a bit and hearing that oh so yummy groan that tells me that shoulder didn't get away as scott free as you're pretending from it's meeting with the steel post. My thighs flexing as I spin on my right boot toe, my left boot in the air, jerking on that arm and letting out a grunt of my own..."Yuuuuuuhh!" Wanting to punish that arm, before I work my way around to other areas of that mass of muscle.

"That's it, Freakshow, scream for meeeeeee....." I grin down at you, the crowd pelting us with cheers and boos and a smattering of applause as we work the ring like the pros we are.

My tanned skin starting to get a nice glaze under the hot lights, I shake my head to get some of the stray strands of stringy hair from my face, mainly so the crowd can see my huge, pearly white, grin while I work that muscled limb.

I keep my eyes on your right shoulder, watching the muscle twitch each time I jerk on that arm. A good sign. What's not a good sign is when you start standing upright, fighting against the pain and the torque like a salmon swimming upstream. "Shit.." I grunt, knowing that the pain isn't enough to keep you down or docile. I hear you mention Mexico and give you a knowing, strained smile. Mom and Dad each brought different things to the training table, that's for sure.

My pearly white smile starts to fade as you power up and quickly stand..."Fuck!" I mutter while you lean away and snap that right leg out....hard and fast. "Oooomfffff!!" I grunt as the sole hammers me low in my flat tummy. My half covered rear jerks out towards an appreciative audience as I'm brought up to my toes. My hands release your wrist and I wrap my arms around my battered core before dropping down to my left knee. My "golden girls" jiggling under my deeply cut suit as I land, shaking my head and, once again, gasping for air like a fish out of water.

The pained look on my face now replacing my cocky look from earlier as I struggle to get my wind back and a chorus of "boooos" sail up into the humid air from the crowd.

"Never give someone your back....or front for that matter, Kit-Kat".

Now, you tell me Daddy.....now you tell me.

[RedEnforcer]

There is nothing quite as satisfying as the sound of someone else's flesh being mashed in by a boot.  Except maybe their punk face.

I don't know what's worse, this young girl controlling me like I'm a rookie or her high pitched voice taunting me. But the sound of my boot striking her belly with a sickening SMACK more than makes up for the taunting. My arm drops to my side almost immediately, pressure gone.  I shift my head to make sure I can see you so you can't follow up just in case you're faking a bit.

I see your golden tresses hanging down, covering your face, depriving me of the pleasure of seeing the pain on your face, or knowing how badly I hurt you.  Your arms are around your waist covering you up so it does look like I struck home hard.  And then you're on one knee and those nice orbs of your dancing freely under your suit.  Phone cameras in the section behind you are raised so I imagine they are getting a good view of your rear. I can hear your raspy attempts to gather air and I know I need to strike.

I shake out my right arm, some sweat flying off as my own body starts to glisten a bit from the exertion. I can feel my mask matting to my face as usual when I start getting into the flow of a match. It clings to my flesh like a second skin and helps me become more of the beast. 

Not wasting any time, I move towards you. I'm going to keep punishing that belly of yours, keep forcing the air from your lungs, keep you silent.  My arms wrap around your curled up body, my chest pressing against your back. I can feel just how thin the material of your suit is and how it hugs close to your body. I can also feel the warmth of your flesh against mine as I get a firm grip around you. In my mind, I'm planning on an inverted bearhug, my arms crushing your ribs and that injured tummy of yours. With a grunt, I cinch up my grip on your body and lift.

A couple of things flash before me when I start to straighten up and haul you into the air.
You look curvy and perhaps a bit soft, but there's nothing soft about you. There's muscle beneath your skin and well trained muscle. Solid is what I would call it. Definitely more than you seem.

The second thing is that my arm isn't really ready to haul you up in the air like I'd want.  In fact, there's no way I could flip you like I need to to get you up for the bearhug.

But when life gives you lemons, you haul back and bean the shit out of life in its head with those lemons until it gives you what you really want.

In this case, with you still curled like you are, I lift you as high and as straight up as I can, fully intending on dropping you straight down.

Down with my left thigh flexing hard and outstretched to catch you in that flat tummy you like showing off in your low cut suit. Hopefully to stun you even more.

I think I'll rather enjoy feeling your abs clashing with my thigh and crunching from the impact.

[Stacie t'Bean]

WOOOOOOO!!!!!!  applauds vigorously!!

[Katherine The Great]

"Muscles, Katherine, are for "go"....not for "show"!"

Growing up in the wrestling business, as well as doing gymnastics and power lifting on the side, has left me with a pretty solid physique. My real definition is in my quads and upper arms, but make no mistake....I'm fairly muscled all over. Something Mother liked to remind me of often, being "...built like your Father". It has never helped me as much as it's helping me right now. The hard shots to my core hurt like a bitch, but my layer of muscle has been a small buffer against a complete breakdown.....for now.

I'm still shaking my head from the solid shot to my abs and just starting to get up to my feet when I feel those sinewy, muscled, arms wrap around me and your well developed pecs press into my mostly bare back. I groan as you start to put the squeeze on me, my left ass cheeks rubbing against that solid bulge in your small trunks which, any other time, might be hot....now, not so much. I'm still wheezing and trying to gulp down lungfuls of air when I can. As your arms encircle my trim waist, my hands slap down on your wrists, struggling to pull them apart but getting nowhere with it as you bring me up off my boots.

"Uhhhhfuckkk.." I groan, throwing my head back, my long, golden hair cascading over your right shoulder while my thick legs slowly kick back and forth as I go on the ride up, only to drop like a rock a few moments later. I do the only thing I can...I tense my muscles up as much as I can, knowing there's going to be a very sudden stop at the end of this ride. Where, I don't know.  I find out, though, as you twist me around, dropping my flat tummy across your outstretched thigh and pain explodes in my stomach.

"AWWWWFFFFF!!" I gasp, my cheeks puffing as I exhale loudly and my body folds over that muscled thigh before I bounce off it, flip and land flat on my back. I slowly bring my legs up, my knees to my chest as my arms wrap around my lower tummy. I cough and wheeze, my body jerking and spasming as the crowd boos, jeers, and throws objects at you. My mouth wide open, and breathless "O" formed from my lips as my eyes shut tightly against the pain and feeling of breathlessness. I shake my head head and roll to my left side, the sides of my boots pounding against the boards in protest of the rough treatment while I try to suck in air and attempt to command the ring to stop spinning.

[BustyTiffany35]

I know I told myself I wouldn't be playing favorites.. but I guess I'm getting caught up in the moment, so I lean forward a bit and scream out:

"C'MON DOLL! Ya ain't done yet, kiddo! Get your ass up and whip HIS ass already!"

I settle back into my seat and suddenly notice Eva sitting right beside me. I smirk at her and press my thick, fishnet-covered thigh against her leg, purring.

"Well hey there, sugah. Hope ya can behave yourself tonight an' keep your hands off of me.."

[RedEnforcer]

Don’t kick people when they’re down. Bash them upside the head and empty out their pockets!

Feeling the impact of your taut, young, fit body against my thigh brings a very very wicked smile to my lips. The effect added to the mask makes me appear almost psychotic.  You can feel the persona taking over. The manners and good upbringing pushed to the side and replaced with a crazed joy that is fed on inflicting pain on opponents. 

I choke that side down a bit as I stalk over to your injured body. Dropping to my knees and jerking you back over so you lie back flat on the mat.

If I wasn’t so focused on keeping up the attack, I would probably be 😉 by seeing you on your back. Body aching and face a mask of pain. Trying desperately to suck in air as each movement of your diaphragm just makes your core muscles ache.  That golden suit now a second skin on your flesh as the sweat makes it cling graphically to your curves.  No, another time I would let myself get distracted by the beauty lying before me.

Instead I plan on showing you some of my training. “You showed me a taste of Mexico, let me show you what I learned in Texas” I say as I hurry to move your arms clear.

I slam the flat palm of my hand down hard on your tummy when I get a clear shot. My fingers extend on my large hand. Fingertips slowly digging into your suit and damaged muscles. I can feel their potential strength. But I’m going to crush them. 

I press down hard and clench my fingers into your stomach and griiiiiiiind. “Von Erich stomach claw. Might have to Google it but you can do that from the hospital.”

[Ginny38]

(a cry heard from the cheap seats)
"KICK THE BITCH WHEN SHE'S DOWN, RED!"

[Katherine The Great]

"When in doubt, Kit-Kat, go for the noggin!"

I think this is some of Daddy's best advice. Where the head goes, the body must follow. It's also the "command center", as Daddy used to call it, of a wrestler and if it's damaged or incapacitated, all they have is four limp limbs and a trunk. Of course he would know....Daddy has opened up more skulls than a brain surgeon.

Granted all this is at the very back of my mind as I bounce off your thick, muscled, thigh and land with a rope shaking *BAM!* on the old canvas. Writhing in pain, my tan skin streaked with sweat while my gut feels like I've just taken a cannonball to it. I try to keep moving back and forth, at least a little bit as to not give you a clear shot anywhere while tensing up, expecting some hard stomps while I'm down. Instead, I feel your large hand on my shoulder, pulling me flat to my back and clearing my limbs away from my battered core.

Still trying to catch my breath, I don't offer much resistance to you moving my legs and arms from my torso, I'm mainly concerned with getting my lungs and diaphragm to work correctly again. I'm thinking I should have put up more of a fight as you slap that palm down to my flat tummy, skin meeting skin due to the severe low "V" cut of my sweat stained suit. My eyes go wide and my arm and legs jerk up, then drop as you fingers spread and claw, digging into my solid abs and punishing the muscle under my deeply tanned skin.

"NAAAAhHHHHHH!!!" I scream out, my body arching under your palm and my face a mask of agony while the pain lances through my lower tummy. I shake my head and grit my teeth as I look up into your masked face. I've seen kinder visages in horror movies, but I understand the motivation behind being "under the hood". It's like Halloween....you can let yourself go....get lost in a character...do things you'd never do while not masked. The "boos" come out louder as you go to work. I tense up my already weakened core to try to stave off more pain, but the claw is both effective and painful.

I'm strong and tough...moreso than most women and some men...but there's only so much that even I can take. If I don't act now, this will be the shorted FCF Championship match on record. I let out a long groan, taking a deep breath and bring my knee up to my chest before kicking my leg out and back....trying to nail you in the head with the toe of my boot. Looking to nail you anywhere on that hooded melon of yours....I'm not picky.

"Kat Dahl Boot", I grunt, "you won't need to Google it."

[RedEnforcer]

Sure you don’t wanna be distracted ya big dope. But you can be too focused. Ahem, my eyes are up here idiot.

I didn’t realize at first just how low cut your suit was. But damn, when my bare palm struck your exposed and vulnerable stomach, I felt an electric shock. There’s just something about you. But I focused past that. And past the writhing you did as I worked on the claw.

I could feel your belly button right at the heart of my palm and I couldn’t remember if Kerry said that was too high or too low. I know he said it wasn’t the most effective.  But I was concerned about your speed and focused on hurting you as much as I could as quickly as I could.

That low blow still stung and it pissed me off so I was dealing with my anger. I could hear you scream and moan in pain and I was dealing with my desire to inflict even more anguish upon you. I was checking all the points into the path of a Sith.

The mask does it to me. Most think masks hide. No, what they do is let you reveal yourself. Behind the anonymity of a mask, you can be who you want. Those lusts and vile thoughts you keep locked away can no be free. For me it is my physical mask that lets me lash out at the world for the life I’ve had to live. For others, the mask is a screen name on an internet board. Granted the freedom to be yourself doesn’t always mean you’re going to be your worst self.  That’s just what it can do and does to me.

So when I look at you lying on your back, wheezing like you’re trapped in a low oxygen environment trying to get your breath made all the more difficult by the scream I have wrenched from what sounds like your very soul, I cannot help but let you see that darkness, that evil inside me that comes out to play only in special occasions. Congratulations Doll, you bring out the worst in me.

And I see that you recognize that look I have. In fact I think you look like you are peering into a twisted mirror. It’s at that point that I feel you try and flex your core. In response I look down at your belly and I just grind. But I’m too caught up in the minutiae. So blind am I to what you are doin and so intent on hurting you, I don’t see you move.

WHAMMMMMMMM

Again there is a purple flash in front of my eyes. Through dulled sense I register an impact on my skull.

My arms go limp.
My body slumps.
I feel a slight wetness under my mask above my ear that doesn’t feel like sweat.
I think in the distance I hear a thunderclap.
I’m falling.
To my right side.
Now..my head...why’s it hurt so bad?

And I collapse on my side on the mat parallel to you. Eyes open but not seeing. Muscles not flexed. The fight in me momentarily quelled.

Will someone pick up that phone? That ringing has to stop.......

[Katherine The Great]

"Sometimes, Katherine, I think you just do these things to get on my nerves."

Gee, wonder where I got that from?

The intense pain in my core starts radiating outwards, down my thighs and up to my chest as I groan and try to tense my muscles past it. I thank the Wrestling Gods when the toe of my boot manages to catch you flush on the temple and you drop like a side of beef, twitching and staring at my through glassy eyes.I let out a half gasp and half sob, drowned out by the applause and cheers I get for felling the muscled tree that was punishing me. A pained look on my face as I roll away from you and to my hands and knees. Shaking my head before I slowly get my boots under me.

I know I have to keep you not only off balance, but also dazed. What I know and what I feel are two different things, right now, though. I'm fucking pissed. And when I get pissed....I like to hurt people.

Guess who just got elected?

I grin as I slowly walk around to your right side. Taking a hop up, I stomp my right boot to the canvas, my firm breasts bouncing under the thin layer of metallic gold material while my left boot hammers down into your forehead. If I get it there once, I go for a double play. Taking another hop and putting my black sole to your masked head to really rattle your mushy brain. And, while I'm on your right side. I take another hop...this time I chamber my left leg up and stomp it down right on that hurting (I'm guessing) right shoulder of yours. "Ayaaaa!" I shout, giving it another stomp for good measure and the crowd a nice look at my lightly jiggling, fishnet clad, ass in the bargain.

I move off your prone body and up to your head. My hands gripping the sides of that hot mask and looking to pull you up into a sit. If I get you there, I raise my left hand high, flexing the fingers before drilling them back down into your right trapezius muscles. "YAAAAAA!" I shout as my educated fingertips look to grind down into that thick muscle and work in a Nerve Hold. My right hand grabbing my left wrist as I lean all my 130lbs into it, looking to continue punishing that right shoulder as my breasts are framed by my considerable, flexing, biceps. I've shown you what Mom has brought me from Mexico...not it's time to show you what Daddy has brought me from the Far East.

I nod my head and grit my teeth though a curtain of stringy blonde hair, wincing every once in a while if I breathe in the wrong way.

"Texas doesn't have anything on Japan, big boy....what'cha think?"

[samsoni]

Cmon Red dont let a little flower beat you sheesh

[RedEnforcer]

Pain is nature’s way of reminding you you’re alive and that you need to beat the ass of whatever’s causing the pain.

Slowly the world comes back in focus. The side of my head feels like I slammed into a metal 2x4. That pain is good. It means I’m regaining my senses. I’m lying back. Naked. No, boots and wrestling trunks. That’s right. I’m on the canvas lying back. A bit sweaty. Mask is on. But before I can finish the quick anatomical diagnostic....

WHAMMMM

A solid mass slams hard across my forehead with enough force to make my body spasm. Legs flopping up in the air. This fogs up my thinking some more. But I can gather myself. I can....

WHAMMMM

Another harsh blow across my head. My body jerking in random, erratic ways as a deep groan slips past my lips.

Now I’m back to trying to remember anything. My survival instinct tells me I need to move. But my body just isn’t responding.

WHAMMMM

Another big impact, but on my right side I think. Maybe my shoulder. Can’t really feel it now.

WHAMMMM

Could someone please stop dropping anvils? That dull ache is definitely on my shoulder now. What the hell?

I then feel soft fingertips gripping my mask rather roughly. My hands reflexively go up to ty and swat those fingers away, but it looks more like a drunken attempt at patty cake than a defensive move.

I’m sitting up. Ok that’s something. Now what am I forgetting?

At that moment a pair of players descends and grips my shoulder. No beside my shoulder into the muscle.

“AAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHH”

I cry out as an electric jolt slams through my right arm from the shoulder down into my fingertips. I can even feel it somewhat in the right side of my neck. I flop a bit in my seat wad position but I can feel some serious weight bearing down on my shoulder making it impossible for now for me to fight up. Not when the pain is this intense.

“FUUUUUCCCKKKK”

I haven’t felt my nerves on fire like this since Kabuki had to teach a green teenager a lesson back in the day.

One thing this pain is doing is that it is clearing my mind. But I can’t even think of a counter now. All I can do is feel the pain.

I slap my left hand over, just to see if i can dislodge the hand gripping my so effectively.

“FUCCCCCKKKK”

All that did was make the hold feel like a fish hook sinking in and ripping my muscle and flesh.


shit
Shit
SHIT

Come on old man think!

Mentally I’m fighting. But my body. No, it’s just slumping down. Spasming like you’re poking my with a cattle prod. Your weight and pressure making me slide down towards the mat.

[Katherine The Great]

"You always want to inflict more pain with less effort, Katherine. Why be wasteful?"

Gritting my teeth as I go up to my tiptoes and lean hard into the nerve hold. My thick thighs flaring, the quads bugling as I get more lift and  try to put every once of my 130lbs of pressure into the hold. My fingertips purposely positioned, each one pressing in on a spot that causes maximum pain as I look to debilitate that right arm.

"Come on, Freakshow....give it up!" I shout down to you, my firm, bobbing, breasts framed by my considerable biceps as I work the hold in deep and hard. I shake my head, flipping stringy strands of sweaty blonde hair from my face to give me a better view of your body as it spasms in the hold. My right hand gripping my left wrist to help increase the pressure of the hold, both arms start trembling. I can't keep this up forever, so I have to inflict more pain with less effort. Quickly releasing your trap muscle, I reach down, grabbing that right wrist and holding your well muscled arm high into the air. I balance on my left boot and bring my right up, putting it on your right shoulder with my knee facing out to the right. Putting your elbow joint against my padded knee, I tug back on your wrist, locking the arm up and trying to hyperextend the limb for added pain with minimal effort.

See, Mother? I do pay attention!

"Ayaaaaaahhhh!" I shout, my round, fishnet clad, ass cheeks dimpling I keep my boot sole on that right shoulder and lever that arm back.

"C'mon...ask him!" I shout, seeing if the ref will come in and ask for your submission.

If you were willing to give it, I'd sure like to take it.

[RedEnforcer]

Sometimes to get out of the frying pan you have to jump in the fire.

Good news bad news.

The good news is the electric shocks of pain shooting down my arm have stopped.

The bad news is now this freakin' brat is trying to play snap, crackle, pop with my arm.

I can't tell how she is contorting, but it feels like she has a boot on my shoulder and not content with just pulling back, has her knee pushing against the back of my elbow making my arm bend outward exactly opposite the way it should.

And it feels like just an inch or two of more pressure and she's popping my elbow out like an angry elementary kid snaps their pencil in half after a bad test.

"MOTHERFUCKER!!!!"

I've had my arm worked over by some experts, but I have to admit, this young girl is working it as intensely as anyone.  And this positioning is brilliant as it limits my possible movements. I would grade her very high on skill for this if she wasn't trying to wrench my damn arm off.

I think about slapping my shoulder, but don't. That didn't work out so well the last time. I just need to think about this. But

"GAWDDAMNNIT!!!!"

She's making it hard for me to concentrate. I would think about tripping her somehow since she has to be balancing on one leg. But I saw those powerful thighs of hers and the calves as well. With her height I would imagine gymnast or powerlifter. Either one is bad as with one, she has supreme balance and I might as well try knocking over a flamingo. And the other, she has enough strength in her leg and glutes to resist what little attempt I could muster. While I'm trying to figure this mess out, the ref gets in my face and asks "Do you give it up Red?"

"Fuck no!" is what I scream back at her. I crane my neck around so I can try and look at the woman punishing my arm. I'm glad my mask is on so she can't see just how much pain I'm in. My paleish skin is reddening from the heat and strain of the hold that she has completely locked in.

The big problem is, one way of getting out (and to be honest, it may be the only way) could put me in a more vulnerable position. And now this ref is in my face. Man how I'd love to just grab her and toss her over my head at the brat holding my arm. While that would be satisfying and effective, it would result in a DQ and I can't have that. I worked too hard to get here and I need that title.

So I lift up my left leg and stretch it out as far as I can manage to the left side and then I swing it over to my right side, twisting my hips as best I can. I'm hoping the moment of my muscular leg swinging to the right along with my hips moving will allow me to swing into the bend of the hold and get my knees under me. It won't get me free of the hold, but it will eliminate the most dangerous aspect, the elbow bend if I can make it over.

"AHHHH COOOMMMMMME OOONNNNNNNNN" I cry out as I try to make my body move.

[Katherine The Great]

"When an opponent is making a mistake, Kit-Kat, never hesitate to continue to let them..."

If my time punching cows (and, in Erin Lee's case...literally) at the Open Circle Ranch taught me anything, it's to know when a bronc is going to buck.

I'm working that muscled right arm of Mr. Red pretty nicely...continuing to keep on it and punish it any chance I can and hoping to make it nothing but a mass of dead weight soon. I bend it back against my knee, working it at an odd angle as I hear you grunt loudly in protest, the sound even rising above the roar of the crowd and I can feel it.

The bronc is about to buck.

I lick my lips and redo my grip on that wrist as you swing your lower body and use the perfectly muscled leg to start whipping your body around so that we're face to face. Already on the move, i drop my knee off your broad shoulder and try to hold that right arm high as I plant my boot back down to the canvas. You spin and put even more torque on that arm. Shit...I know that has to hurt.

"Since you like pain so much, big boy, let me give ya some more..." I grunt as I snap my thick left leg up and and point the toe of my boot. Hoping to bury it into the nerve cluster just below the armpit. "HYaaaaaa!!' I shout, releasing the arm if the nerve shot hits and hoping my "eight seconds" are up.