Trish felt like nothing could go wrong.
She stood in the middle of the ring, basking in the adulation of her fans. She had just delivered an impassioned promo, sending a message to the locker room that she was next in line for the women’s championship. She had climbed the ranks of the women’s division, paying her dues, night after night. She had experienced triumphant highs and devastating lows, but throughout everything, she persevered, and now it was her time to shine.
The crowd cheered for her as her theme music played. She was a vision, dressed in a black leather mini skirt, a tight fitting white blouse, and black stiletto pumps. Her outfit perfectly accentuated her sensuous body.
Trish flashed her irresistible smile one last time. She turned to exit the ring when a familiar voice interrupted the proceedings.
“Cut the music!”
Stephanie McMahon emerged at the top of the ramp with a microphone in her hand and a scowl on her face.
“My God, Trish, I know you look like a blow-up sex doll, but I didn’t know you were as dumb as one!”
The crowd showed their disdain for Stephanie with a chorus of boos.
“Who the HELL do you think you are?” continued Stephanie. “You think that just because you’ve won a handful of matches that you’re championship material?”
Trish waited a moment for the boos to die down.
“You know what, Stephanie?”
She paused for dramatic effect.
“Yeah. I do think I’m championship material. I’ve paid my dues and I deserve to be here.”
The crowd cheered.
“Paid your dues?” asked Stephanie incredulously. “You really are as stupid as you look.”
Trish felt the sting of Stephanie’s words. She had always had trouble being taken seriously due to her looks. She wanted to be seen as a serious athlete and not just some bimbo pin-up girl.
“I’ll tell you what,” continued Stephanie. “If you think you have what it takes, then you should have no problem accepting my challenge to you tonight.”
Trish considered, then replied, “All right. I accept. Get your ass down here and let’s get it on!”
Trish felt confident as the crowd cheered.
But Stephanie just laughed at her.
“As usual, you misunderstand, Trish,” said Stephanie. “You won’t be facing me tonight. Instead, you’ll face an opponent of my choosing.”
Trish hesitated. She didn’t like where this was going.
“Listen, Steph. As you can see, I’m not exactly dressed for a wrestling match tonight. Surely you don’t expect me to fight in a mini skirt and heels.”
Stephanie smiled sadistically.
“I don’t remember giving you a choice, bitch.”
Suddenly, the arena was plunged into darkness. A stunned hush fell over the crowd. Ominous heavy metal music began to play over the loudspeakers. A heavy mist descended upon the entrance ramp. Red strobe lights flickered, creating a hellish atmosphere.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” Steph’s voice rose to a hysterical pitch. “From parts unknown...making her debut...”
Trish felt a chill in the air, as though the temperature suddenly dropped twenty degrees. She hugged her arms around her curvy frame, shivering as goose bumps broke out all over her skin.
A large, hulking figure appeared at the top of the ramp.
Stephanie finished her introduction: “I give you...SEPULKRA, THE DEMON WITCH!”
The shadowy figure began making her way down the entrance ramp and toward the ring. She didn’t walk so much as lurch and shamble, her movements like something out of a horror movie.
Trish had been in the business long enough to witness the likes of the Undertaker and Kane. But this was unlike anything she had ever seen. She froze in place, almost hypnotized, watching as the shape shuffled awkwardly toward her.
Sepulkra approached the ring. Instead of walking up the metal steps, she stepped up onto the apron and OVER the top rope, then walked to the center of the ring.
Trish backed up instinctively into the corner of the ring. She felt her muscular butt cheeks press against the middle turnbuckle. She was trapped, with no place to go.
Her bottom lip quivered and her mouth felt dry. She licked her pouty lips and tried to swallow. She wondered if it was too late to back out. She didn’t want to seem like a coward, but she wondered if she was in over her head.
As Sepulkra’s music faded, the house lights came up and Trish finally got a good look at her opponent.
Sepulkra stood at six foot, five inches, a full foot taller than Trish. She must have weighed at least 300 pounds, more than double Trish’s weight. Her hulking frame was garbed in tattered black rags and she wore steel-toed combat boots. Her face was caked in a heavy layer of black and white kabuki makeup, and her head was framed by a mane of long black greasy hair.
She didn’t look like a wrestler. She looked like a demon sent from the depths of Hell.
The crowd’s stunned silence slowly became a roar. They seemed to actually enjoy what they were seeing.
They began chanting. At first, Trish couldn’t make out what they were saying, but gradually it became clearer.
“SEPULKRA’S GONNA KILL YOU! SEPULKRA’S GONNA KILL YOU! SEPULKRA’S GONNA KILL YOU!”
Trish looked around, shaken. A moment ago, the audience was celebrating her, now they were cheering for this...this thing? How could they turn on her so suddenly? She felt so alone. She felt betrayed.
Amidst all the chaos and confusion, a referee slid into the ring and signaled for the bell.
DING DING DING!
“Oh, God,” thought Trish. “This is really happening. I actually have to go through with this.”
She tried to collect herself, but her thoughts were clouded. “Get it together,” she chided herself. “It’s just theatrics. You can do this. You’re a world class athlete. You just have to focus.”
Meanwhile, Sepulkra hadn’t moved. She remained rooted in the center of the ring, staring directly at Trish with sinister, bloodshot eyes.
The crowd grew restless. Their anticipation was boiling over. They wanted to see what Sepulkra was made of.
They wanted blood.
Trish shifted nervously from one foot to the other. “OK,” she thought, “if she wants to play mind games, then I’ll just have to bring the fight to her.”
Confidently, Trish marched to the center of the ring and delivered a hard SLAP to Sepulkra’s face.
The crowd erupted with a collective “OOOOOHHHHHH!!!”
Trish turned from Sepulkra to face the crowd, smiling arrogantly. “Is this what you want?” she asked them. “Is this what you came to see?”
If they wanted theatrics, Trish was more than happy to oblige.
Sepulkra stood there, unmoving, still glowering.
Trish turned back around and reared her arm back again, preparing to deliver a second slap.
But before she could follow through, Sepulkra’s massive right arm shot forward, her huge hand grabbing Trish by her slender neck.
She had Trish right where she wanted her. Slowly, she began to squeeze.
Trish panicked. She swatted helplessly at Sepulkra’s powerful arm. She was trapped and she knew it.
Sepulkra pulled Trish close to her, pressing the young woman’s beautiful face close to hers. She growled in a low, menacing rasp, “That wasn’t a very nice thing to do, Trish!”
Trish’s eyes bulged with fright. She struggled to breathe, her mouth gasping for air like a fish out of water. Sepulkra’s hand was like a vice, tightening its grip, throttling Trish’s throat.
“No!” Trish gasped. “Please...don’t!”
Sepulkra pulled Trish’s face even closer until they were almost touching.
“Your suffering has just begun! Prepare to enter the abyss!”
Abruptly, Sepulkra lifted Trish’s body up off of the mat with one arm, holding her aloft by the neck for several seconds, and then planted her body in the center of the ring with a devastating chokeslam.
Trish felt all of the oxygen exit her body as her back landed hard on the mat. The impact sent shockwaves of pain exploding throughout her spine and limbs.
As she landed, her fuck-me pumps went flying in various directions. She lay there on the mat, barefoot, her limbs spread in all directions, completely stunned and helpless.
The crowd went ballistic.
Sepulkra stood over Trish’s prone body, looking down at her like a hunter standing over her prey. She leaned over and grabbed a fistful of Trish’s long blonde hair, pulling her victim back to her feet. Trish stumbled about on wobbly legs like a broken marionette.
Sepulkra shoved Trish into the corner of the ring and looped her arms around the top rope. Trish stood there, defenseless.
Sepulkra reached for the front of Trish’s white blouse and with one quick motion, tore the fabric off, revealing her lacy black bra. The undergarment barely contained her juicy tits. Trish screamed in fright and tried to cover her body with her arms.
The crowd erupted into a frenzy. This is what they had paid to see.
Sepulkra took the soft, silky blouse and wrapped it around Trish’s neck. Trish had barely managed to catch her breath, and now felt her oxygen supply cut off once again. She flailed about pathetically, clutching at her neck but to no avail.
Sepulkra leaned in until her face was less than an inch away from her victim’s. Trish felt the grotesque woman’s hot, rancid breath on her face.
“I can smell you, Trish,” snarled Sepulkra. “I can smell your fear!”
Trish could see the inside of Sepulkra’s mouth. Her yellow, decayed teeth looked as though they had been filed and sharpened into individual points, like fangs. Trish felt a horror in the pit of her stomach that she had never known.
Was this a dream? A nightmare? No, this was really happening.
Sepulkra released her grip on the blouse and threw it aside. Trish felt momentary relief as oxygen flooded her lungs. It was short-lived, however, as Sepulkra reached for the zipper on the side of Trish’s black leather skirt and yanked it down, then snatched the garment off from around her waist, exposing Trish’s skimpy black thong underwear.
The crowd was ecstatic.
Trish screamed and held her hands over her tiny panties. She had done countless photo shoots in swimsuits and lingerie, but to have her body exposed and violated so violently like this in front of so many people filled her with shame.
The sight of Trish’s nearly naked body drove Sepulkra into a frenzied rage. She brushed Trish’s arms aside and began furiously pummeling her thick, alluring body with a barrage of savage fists, like a boxer working over a punching bag.
Each strike landed with a sickening smack, like a steak tenderized by a sledgehammer. Trish cried out in agony. She felt as though her internal organs were being pulverized into liquid. Sepulkra alternated lefts and rights, her blows landing on Trish’s tight, toned stomach and her large, succulent tits. Trish’s flesh jiggled and bounced as each fist found its mark.
Sepulkra stepped back and delivered a salvo of vicious kicks to Trish’s midsection. Trish’s mind went blank. She forgot all of her training. The punishment was relentless. She could do nothing to protect herself. All she could do was stand there and absorb the blows like a crash test dummy.
Sepulkra grabbed a fistful of Trish’s long blonde locks and blasted her with a quick series of cruel headbutts. Each one was like a thunder strike to Trish’s skull. She felt as though she were about to black out, almost wishing for the release of oblivion, but somehow she remained upright and conscious.
Sepulkra cupped Trish’s face with her rough, calloused hand and pulled her in close. Trish’s eyeballs rolled around in their sockets. She was starting to fade. But Sepulkra was nowhere near close to being finished with her prey.
Trish felt something warm and slimy across her cheek. With dawning horror, she realized that it was Sepulkra’s tongue licking her face. The feeling of slimy residue on her face made her want to throw up.
“Oh, God,” she whined. “Please, make it stop.”
Sepulkra spun Trish’s body around and grabbed the waistband of her thong. Trish felt the fabric hike up in between her toned butt cheeks and let out a startled yelp.
Suddenly, Trish felt her body being lifted into the air. Before she knew what was happening, she was hoisted over the top rope and tossed over. She hit the hard apron first, then tumbled clumsily to the outside of the ring and landed on her back.
The impact sent spasms of pain throughout her curvaceous body. Her breathing became heavy and her tanned skin glistened with a thin layer of perspiration. She lay there in nothing but her bra and panties, completely stunned. A cameraman hovered over her, surveying her scantily clad body.
From what seemed like far away, she heard the referee beginning to count.
“One...Two...Three...”
“Oh, thank God,” she thought with a sigh of relief. “If I’m counted out, then they have to stop the match.” She lay there, exhausted, waiting for the ref to reach his ten count.
But almost before she could finish the thought, Stephanie re-appeared at the top of the entrance ramp holding a live microphone.
“Sorry to interrupt this five-star classic,” she bellowed. “But there was one thing I forgot to mention, Trish. Just in case you were thinking of sleeping on the job, this match is no-holds barred, no disqualification, and no countout!”
The crowd went wild.
Trish felt what little hope she had left drain from her tortured body. “Why is this happening to me?” she wondered. “What have I done to deserve this?” She rolled over on to her side and tried to get up. Every part of her body hurt.
Sepulkra stepped over the top rope and dropped down to the floor. She grabbed Trish by her blonde locks and pulled her to her feet, then scooped her body up in one fluid motion, with one hand gripping Trish’s crotch and the other cradling her shoulder.
“No!” screamed Trish. “Put me--”
But before she could finish, Sepulkra bodyslammed Trish onto the floor. Only a thin, barely-padded mat offered protection from the cold concrete surface underneath. Trish’s head and back bounced off of the ground. Spasms of pain erupted throughout her central nervous system. It felt like her body had shattered into a million pieces. Her half naked body writhed around on the ground. She rolled onto her side, clutching the base of her spine.
Sepulkra went over to the timekeeper’s desk and grabbed a nearby steel chair.
Trish struggled back to her feet. She grabbed the bottom ring rope for support. But unbeknownst to her, Sepulkra was standing right behind her.
The giantess reared the folded chair back and slammed it into Trish’s back, connecting with an awful CRACK that echoed throughout the arena. The impact of the steel on Trish’s flesh and spine made her feel like her soul had ejected from her body. She collapsed back down to the floor.
The bloodthirsty crowd cheered the onslaught.
Trish lay there, spread out, her body completely vulnerable. Sepulkra stood over her battered victim, admiring her handiwork. She lifted the folded chair over her head, then plunged the edge of it straight down into Trish’s exposed abdomen.
Trish let out a bloodcurdling scream. She clutched at her belly, curling up into a ball, whimpering and crying.
Sepulkra tossed the chair into the ring, then walked over to the commentary team. She grabbed a bottle of soda from off of their desk, then made her way back to Trish. She unscrewed the cap and dumped the cold, sticky liquid all over Trish’s nearly naked body. The sugary substance splashed over her limbs, torso and hair. Some of it got into her mouth and nostrils. She coughed and sputtered, trying to spit it out.
Sepulkra reached down and lifted Trish by her neck, wrenching her back to her feet. Trish’s legs felt like jelly. Every inch of her comely body screamed out in pain.
Sepulkra cupped Trish’s chin and presented her to the nearby cameraman, who zoomed in on Trish’s face, capturing all of her anguish and humiliation.
“Say hello to your adoring fans, Trish,” hissed Supulkra. “Show them what a true champion looks like!”
Tears streamed down Trish’s cheeks. She was totally overwhelmed. Soda dripped down from her hair. Her makeup, which she had applied so carefully only a few hours before, was smeared all over her face. She was an absolute mess.
Sepulkra grabbed Trish by the crotch with one hand and her neck with the other, then lifted her body over her head in a gorilla press. Trish had been in the ring with the likes of Chyna and Lita, but never before had she been manhandled like this. This woman, this...monster...seemed possessed of almost superhuman strength.
Trish felt Sepulkra’s bony, calloused fingers slide in between her perfectly toned butt cheeks. She felt sick to her stomach at the thought of those scaly digits penetrating her beautiful body. She shook her head in protest and moaned.
Sepulkra effortlessly hoisted Trish over the top rope and back into the ring. Trish landed face first, her body bouncing off of the mat. Sepulkra climbed into the ring after her.
Trish lay there for a moment, stunned. She rolled over onto her side and reached out for the bottom ring rope, clinging to it as though it could offer her some kind of protection. Slowly, groggily, she pulled herself up, first to her knees, then to one foot, then the other, leaning on the ropes to steady herself.
Sepulkra studied her quarry from behind, surprised that Trish had any fight left in her whatsoever. Perhaps she had been going too easy on her. She reared her leg back and drove her steel toed boot directly into Trish’s cxnt.
Trish howled in pain, clutching between her legs and collapsing back down to the mat. Her flowery feminine center, which had been the source of so much pleasure throughout her young life, was now the epicenter of so much agony. Shockwaves of torment spiraled throughout her sultry body. She rolled over onto her side, writhing around, her hands trying ineffectually to massage the pain away.
From outside the ring, a cameraman zoomed in on Trish’s pain-stricken face. She looked into the lens and begged, “Please, help! She’s killing me!”
Sepulkra reached down and grabbed Trish’s bra. Before Trish could react, Sepulkra ripped it off of her chest, revealing a pair of perfectly shaped tits.
The audience roared louder than ever. It felt as through the roof were about to blow off of the arena.
Trish yelped in shock and scrambled to cover herself, hugging her body with her arms. She had been offered millions of dollars to pose topless for various magazines, but it never seemed right to her. She was no prude, but felt that some things should be kept private.
Now, her body was being exposed in front of the entire world. She felt utterly violated.
Sepulkra straddled Trish’s body and dropped down to her knees. Trish looked up in fright at the nightmarish brute bearing down upon her.
Sepulkra brushed Trish’s arms aside and began raining fists down upon her exposed tits. Trish let out a startled scream. Her flesh bounced and jiggled as each blow found its mark.
Sepulkra delighted in the suffering she caused. The more Trish screamed, the more intense the assault became. She grabbed hold of Trish’s soft, pink nipples between her thumbs and forefingers and began squeezing and twisting. Trish yowled like a tortured animal, her arms and legs thrashing about. Her screams reached a crescendo. To Sepulkra, her tortured shrieks were like a beautiful symphony.
Finally, Sepulkra relented. Trish sobbed and pleaded, “Please, I don’t want to die! I’ll do anything, just stop...” She could barely get the words out. Her throat was shredded from all of the screaming.
Sepulkra looked down at the foolish young girl sprawled beneath her. Trish was playing her part well. Yes, she was a fine sacrifice. She was, for all intents, the perfect victim. Beautiful and young, so full of life and vitality. It had been a pleasure making her suffer.
But it was time to end things.
Sepulkra stood up. The crowd was on its feet. They wanted more. Trish remained on the mat, weeping. She attempted to cover up her wounded tits with her hands, trying desperately to preserve what little self-esteem she had remaining.
Sepulkra picked up the folded steel chair that was lying nearby and placed it in the center of the ring. With evil intentions, she walked over and reached down, grabbing Trish’s throat with one hand and pulling her tortured body back to her feet one last time.
“Now, Trish,” Sepulkra menaced. “Now, I send you straight to Hell!”
Trish’s eyes widened in fear. “No!” she screamed. “No, please!”
Before Trish could process what was happening, Sepulkra lifted her up and spun her body upside down so that her crotch was positioned directly in front of Sepulkra’s face. Trish felt all of her blood rush to her head, which hovered several inches above the folded steel chair lying on the ground.
The fans went wild with anticipation. They realized that Trish was being set up for a tombstone piledriver, one of the most devastating moves in all of wrestling.
Sepulkra inhaled the sweet aroma of Trish’s pussy through the fabric of her skimpy black thong. It was the scent of fear, mingled with sweat and humiliation. It was her essence, distilled to its purest form. To Sepulkra, it was divine, more intoxicating than the most exotic perfume. The smell sent her into a fit of ecstasy. She squeezed Trish’s almost naked body one last time. From down below, she heard Trish whimper, “Please…no more…”
Sepulkra smiled. Satisfied, she dropped suddenly to her knees, viciously spiking the crown of Trish’s skull into the surface of the folded steel chair.
Trish’s world went black. Her body crumpled to the mat in a lifeless heap. She lay there, clad only in her black lace panties, her limbs spread in all directions like a dead starfish.
Sepulkra looked down at the broken body in front of her, proud of what she had accomplished. She had taken something beautiful and destroyed it. Trish’s young, vivacious body was the canvas on which Sepulkra had painted her masterpiece. Trish had entered the contest full of confidence and optimism, arrogance and bravado. Now look at her. She lay on the mat, butchered and debased. She would never be the same again.
There was only one last thing to do. Sepulkra knelt down and grabbed the fabric of Trish’s panties. She caressed the soft, delicate material between her fingers, then with one swift motion, ripped the skimpy thong off from around Trish’s body. She held the moist, sweaty panties in her claw-like hand, then pressed them to her face, breathing in one last scent of Trish’s essence. She looked down at the unconscious body on the mat.
Trish lay there, her soft mound of carefully maintained pubic hair exposed for all the world to see. She had been stripped of every last piece of clothing, and with that, what remained of her dignity.
Sepulkra held the tattered panties in her hand a moment longer, then rolled them into a ball. She reached down and with her free hand parted the young girl’s soft, pillowy lips, then stuffed the balled up fabric into Trish’s open mouth.
Finally, she placed her foot on Trish’s bare chest. The referee counted: “One...two...three!”
The bell sounded. The match was over. The crowd roared, their bloodlust finally satiated.
Sepulkra stood there, her foot still mounted on Trish’s mangled body. The referee implored her to go, but she ignored him. She should be allowed to savor her victory, she reasoned. As her theme music echoed throughout the arena and the fans continued cheering, she knelt down besides her conquest.
Had she been capable of feeling anything besides anger and hate, she might have felt sorry for Trish. But the girl had gotten what she deserved. She should have known better than to step foot in the same ring as Sepulkra.
She knelt down and ran her rough hands up and down Trish’s smooth skin, gliding her fingers gently along her torso and thighs. There was something almost tender about her touch. Trish looked at peace, her body freed from the sadism and trauma she had experienced only moments before.
Sepulkra felt remorse that the game had so abruptly reached its conclusion. To Trish, her suffering had seemed like an eternity. But in reality, it had lasted only moments.
Sepulkra stood up and exited the ring just as she had entered, stepping over the ropes and dropping down onto the floor.
She turned and looked once more upon the body of the broken angel lying in the center of the ring. Several medical personnel scrambled into the ring to tend to Trish. They checked her vitals and measured the shallow rise and fall of her chest, confirming that she was still alive. She would have to be stretchered out and taken to a hospital.
Poor, doomed Trish.
Perhaps their paths would cross again one night, thought Sepulkra. Perhaps it would be in a wrestling ring. Or perhaps...elsewhere. She smiled at the thought. Pleased, she turned and made her way up the ramp.
