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General Category => Chat Fight Logs And Message Board Fights => Message Board Fights => Topic started by: BustyTiffany35 on February 07, 2018, 10:01:57 AM

Title: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: BustyTiffany35 on February 07, 2018, 10:01:57 AM

[The 2300 Arena in Philadelphia]

--Yanking Taeler Hendrix up to her wobbly feet, Tiffany ducks low, hoists the delectable bombshell up onto her shoulders, and PLANTS her with the Flatliner!

[The Cox Convention Center in Oklahoma City]

--Santana Garrett goes for her Shining Star Press, only Tiffany has rolled out of the way, and Garrett hits nothing but canvas! Tiffany quickly runs in to dive on top of Santana from behind, wrapping her up with the Platinum Lock!

[The Gilley's Dallas in Dallas, Texas]

--hoists her up -- and DROPS her with the Hard Goodbye! Belly-to-back double-knee backbreaker! Dixie Clements goes flying off of Tiffany's bent knees, hot searing pain just wrecking her lower back! The Platinum Queen quickly gets to her feet, grabs a handful of hair, and hoists her up onto her shoulders - Flatliner--

[The Odeum Expo Center in Chicago]

--Ivelisse tries for her Disdain Wheelbarrow DDT, but Tiffany reverses it - by DROPPING back-first onto the mat, and RIPPING Ivelisse down over her bent knees! The Hard Goodbye! A few moments later, Tiffany scoops Ivelisse up and DRILLS her deep into the canvas with the Flatliner!

[The Eidon Arena in Osaka, Japan]

--Reiko Hinomato gets to her feet, and Tiffany RAMS her knee into her face with the S-Trigger! Reiko backs into the ropes, Tiffany grabs her, hoists her up - and DROPS her with ANOTHER Killswitch! Tiff is NOT done yet! She YANKS on Reiko's hair, pulls her up roughly, throws her over her shoulders - and WIPES HER OUT with the Furattoraināāāāāā!!!!--

[The Gilt Nightclub in Orlando, Flordia]

--Tiffany smirks at Priscilla Kelly, who's standing outside the ring, leaning against the apron, hanging from the bottom rope as her arms are tied up to it. Beaten, crucified, and semi-conscious. The Platinum Queen leans in close and plants a kiss on the forehead of Hell's Favorite Harlot, then turns around, striding up the entrance ramp, drawing the hood to her jacket over her head as she leaves her defeated foe behind--


Yeah, I've been busy. And I ain't done yet.



[The Viceroy in Los Angeles, California]

It's been months since I've decided to get serious again. In that time, I've been running through a lot of opponents, even managed to settle a few grudges along the way. Meiko Satomura, Jessica Havok, Dixie Clements, "The Cuban Goddess" Eva. Destroying Eva felt really good, and after the Cage Match in New York I've been running through even more women in the months afterward. All so that I could get noticed by the Viceroy.

If you've ever wrestled or fought in Los Angeles, ya would have heard about this place. The Viceroy is a private, upscale nightclub, strictly invite only, frequented by a smattering array of the city's "elite". The parties were unforgettable, the music and drinks often the finest, and because of its exclusivity, there was an extremely high level of privacy that bordered on an almost cult-like Hail Hydrasecret society-level. If ya ever had the chance to come here, nobody would know, but everyone who mattered would. It was also one of the last places you'd expect to host violent, unsanctioned wrestling bouts. But they did, and they have been for a long, long time, we're talking decades here, and for an underground wrestling venue, the ring setup was pretty fantastic. It was located within the "East-Wing" of the massive, sprawling club, which was basically a giant room with the capacity to hold several thousand spectators. Five shallow balconies overlooked the ring area and floor seats. There was even an entrance set, which was mainly a steel octagonal portal accompanied by three large HD video screens, with a long ramp that ran from the portal to connect directly with the ring's north facing apron, similar to Pro Wrestling NOAH's ramp/aisle setup.

The L.A underground fight scene gravitated around the Viceroy. Its main attraction was its much vaunted "Fight Night". On a Fight Night, a single high-stakes pro wrestling match would take place, between two of the best wrestlers that the organizers could find. Usually, those wrestlers were from the underground, but there have been times when even mainstream fighters have competed in the Viceroy. Winning a Fight Night not only meant winning a small fortune, but also that everyone in the LA underground fight scene would know about ya. Hell, the underground fight scene across the country would know about your name. That was the thing about the Viceroy, its organizers were deeply connected. The extent of their influence is really unknown, but they know how to spread the word, and they can always, somehow, make the most improbable matches happen. They can set up any match, between almost anyone in the country, anyone in the world for that matter, so long as they deem it "acceptable" to their standards. And no one could just walk up and request to fight - the Viceroy had to invite ya first. They'd scout ya, learn everything about ya, track your progress for weeks, months even. Their reach isn't just limited to the underground or independent circuits, either. They'll reach all the way to the mainstream promotions from time to time. Most of the time they'd send an invite to both fighters, on rare occasions they'd invite just one and ask that wrestler who she'd want to face. That fighter could chose literally ANYONE to fight. 

And once they noticed what I've been doing in the past few months, they contacted me, and offered me a match to face anyone, anybody in the world.

I asked them to give me "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance.



"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome, to Fight Night! Introducing first of all, fighting out of Las Vegas, Nevada! She stands at 5'8'' tall, and weighed in at 130lbs. She is the Platinum Queen! Ladies and gentlemen, give it up, for TIFFANY!"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JAb5SasJ2Y4

"The Instinct" begins to beat into everyone's ears as it plays over the speakers. The lights have dimmed down until darkness washes over the crowds, with only a few spotlights shining over the entrance set. Clusters of white smoke rise up from the stage, clouding the entrance, while the music builds, and a shapely silhouette appears in the middle of the metallic portal. Loud applause strikes up from the audience as I walk through the smoke, pausing for a brief moment as the spotlights shine down on me. A smirk appears on my full lips as my music builds to a blaring crescendo of pounding drums and guitar riffs, and at that moment I extend my fists to either side of me, tilting my head back, striking my pose for the cheering audience. The spotlights cast over me, showing me in my hooded leather jacket, with the black hood drawn up and over my head. Under my jacket is a black and silver lycra bustier, accompanied by a pair of seamless lycra silver and black booty shorts. The usual items of my ring gear equip my tall, toned and voluptuous body: black boots with the sleek kick-pads, kneepads and fishnet stockings, a black sleeve on my right arm, black tape around my left hand and wrist, a black choker at my neck. My sharp nails are also painted silver. I lower my arms and settle my eyes forward, and saunter to the ring, spotlights following me as I make my way across the ramp. A look of icy focus is etched across my features as the fans in attendance holler and applaud loudly. I slowly step through the ropes, take a full look around as I stand in the center of the ring, then, I whip off my hood and thrust my arms out to my sides once again. My big platinum hair cascades freely, whipping around me as I strike my signature pose yet again for the fans. The masses are on their feet, cheering loudly, rowdily, as the Platinum Queen returns to the Viceroy. My music starts to simmer down.

"And, her opponent--"

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: Rowan Chance on February 08, 2018, 07:03:36 PM

Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center
"Your last two matches saw serious damage to your spine. The first should have ended your career. The second...Ms. Chance, there's no way you should ever wrestle again."

Johns Hopkins Hospital, Baltimore

"No. Absolutely not. I will not clear you for that kind of activity."

Banner Health, New York
"No, Ms. Chance. I don't think you should ever wrestle again."

John C. Lincoln Medical Center, Orthopedics
"Considering the injuries you sustained, I suggest you never wrestle again."

Einstein Medical Center, Philadelphia
"Not a chance. Oh, I'm sorry. No. I can't sign that paper. I'm sorry."

Arizona Spine & Joint Hospital
"Though your back wasn't technically broken, there was a hairline fracture. I have to suggest you never wrestle again."

Hospital for Special Surgery
"Ms. Chance, you just got back on your feet. I'm afraid I can't clear you for anything that strenuous."

Cedars-Sinai Medical Center
"You're joking, right? You do realize you spent six months in traction, another six months in rehab, and you...no. Absolutely not."




Japan, Hōryū-ji Temple
"Lie down. Relax. And breathe."


Two months later...



The doctor peers at the X-Rays, shaking his head. "I...don't understand. You should have some sign of the fracture..."

"So...?" I ask, sitting on the examining table.

"And you feel no pain?" he asks.

I nod. "No pain."

"No numbness in your fingers or toes?"

I nod again. "Nope."

The doctor shakes his head. "Ms. Chance, I know I'm not the first doctor you went to, and I see the recommendations of the others, it just seems...I mean...I can't explain it."

I smile. "I know."

"All right." He puts down the X-Rays and picks up his clip board. "You needed three doctors to sign this. I guess I'm your third."

"Thanks, Doc."

"Just...be careful," he says, handing me the paper. "This is the third time I've seen you with a back injury. I don't want to see you with a fourth."

"It's all right, Doc," I tell him, taking the paper. "Everything's going to be just fine."

* * *

Standing at the gorilla position, I hear the crowd chanting for the blonde bombshell in the ring. Considering the last time these fans saw me, I'm not sure what the reaction is going to be. Boos, certainly. Maybe some little sign of respect. We'll find out.

After my match with Punky (https://www.freecatfights.com/forums/index.php?topic=68759.0), nobody expected to see me again. She's even walking around with a cane and a knee brace. I was unconscious and helpless, bleeding from my head. My spine apparently broken. Hell, I thought my spine was broken. Close enough, I guess. Even a hairline fracture is enough to endanger the rest of your life. But I've got an even deeper wound inside me...

Tantalus: "I grab Rowan's hair from behind and pull her head back. Then, I send a palm strike straight into her spine."


Not a lot of people saw that one. Enough. Son of a bitch Tantalus put me right back into the hospital. I finish the match with Punky, spend almost a year trying to get on my feet, then that bastard fucking sends me right back again. Spend months trying to find a way to get myself into the ring. I found one. And I did it without his help.

That one match with Lisa Starr--fucking Lisa goddamn Starr--nearly ended my career. But here I am. Back behind the curtain. Waiting for the entrance cue.

"And, her opponent--"

All the lights go out. Spotlights flash around the audience. A female voice booms through the loudspeakers.

"Ladies. Gentlemen. And all you marks in the audience..."

I snicker. That should get them riled up.

"...the show... is about...to BEGIN!"

Britney's "Circus" blares into every corner of the Viceroy. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lVhJ_A8XUgc

All the eyes on me in the center of the ring
Just like a circus
When I crack that whip, everybody goin' trip
Just like a circus
Don't stand there watching me, follow me
Show me what you can do

All the spotlights hit the stage, and I'm there. A top hat on my head, hands behind my back, a thick, black (faux) fur coat over my curves. And on the right musical cue, I look up, black glasses on my eyes. My right hand comes around my back, holding a long, black whip (kangaroo hide, because that's the best, and I don't settle for anything less than the best).

And the whip is ON FIRE.

Behind my back, I drop the lighter that ignited the fluid on the leather. Then, swinging it around my head, pulling it down, giving it a good, hard cattleman's CRACK, then whipping it back for a flick CRACK, then a few more twists for a series of hard CRACK CRACK CRACK. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y4uAZ2X9WBw)

I let the whip dangle behind me as I stride down toward the ring, the flames still licking the leather. And when I reach the steps, I saunter up. Standing on the top step, wrap the whip around the post and shrug my shoulders, letting the coat fall away. My gear is classic Rowan Chance: black pleather short pants, tall domme boots and a pleather corset. All tight, tight, tight.

I lift my right leg up high--above my head--and put it over the top rope, swinging my body along behind it, spinning into the corner, arms on the top ropes. My hair tied back just as tight as my pants, my long raven blue black hair in a braid that reaches down to the small of my back.

I smile across the ring at Tiffany, my lips blood red.

And just below my navel, peeking out of those tight shorts, is that tattoo that I made famous.

"UNBREAKABLE."

I initially got it for my sexfighting career, but it's become just as popular in the world of pro wrestling, apparently giving me a new nickname. Because even after everything Megan did to me...

...I'm still fucking here.

UNBROKEN.

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: RedEnforcer on February 08, 2018, 10:26:55 PM

The Viceroy?

Yeah that's a name that brings back memories. Good and bad. In my youth I learned of it and even got a chance to call out an opponent. Toughest fight of my life but the most financially rewarding.  But, it was just too intense. Too much. I've been in fights before but both of us, so young and wanting to get that prize. When I got out of the hospital, I headed back to the Carolinas and never gave that place a second thought. However, winning a match there was like winning the Masters. You're a member for life. So I got the invitations for all the fights and not one interested me. Till this latest. The minute I saw it I picked up my phone. Dialed a familiar number. But there wasn't an answer.

Fuck.

Plane trip. After coming back home from London months ago, I swore off planes forever. And here I am, like a gawddamned idiot boarding another flight.  What do I really think I can do? I mean, she's headstrong and stubborn and apparently has a death wish. She's stabbed me in the back and shoved me away and used me for her own gain as it suited her time and time again.

But still, I'm getting on a plane.

I'm not a doctor. But within the last year I've seen Rowan have her back just devastated, not once but twice.  One in Paris and the other in a smaller venue. Why the fuck am I even bothering with this?  She's signed the match and she's going to do it. Tiffany is no slouch and she was there in Paris too, so it's not like she doesn't know about Ro's back.

I should let this go.

I should.
Just leave this airport and go.

Just then as I'm turning I see the back of a young woman, same height, same walk. I swear it takes me back in time to when I first met Rowan. That bright eyed, eager young woman who just wanted to wrestle. She's still there. Somewhere. Beneath all that angry exterior. Beneath the pain that led her on the path she's on. There's a spark of hope. There's a truly good woman in there. 

I need to help her find it before she ends up crippling herself.

I sigh heavily. I turn and get on the plane.

Soon I'm in LA. Don't like it. Don't like it.

I mean Atlanta is too big for me and LA, holy fuck it's a million times worse.

But here I am. And soon I'm sitting in my spot on the front row. I bet many people even forgot I am a past victor and earned this seat.  I tried to get in touch with Rowan with no response. But she can't deny me what I've earned. I look about and notice I'm alone on this row. I wonder where the others are. I know I get one seat for a guest, and I'm not sure if the invitation I sent will be answered. But aside from that I thought there would be more....

And the entrances happen. Tiffany, amazing as ever. She's one name that's been around almost as long as I have. And she's been tearing it up lately. Which is why I wonder about her calling out Rowan. She's got something in mind.  For now, she looks gorgeous.  I think we need to cross paths soon.

And the Rowan comes out.

I'm not sure what to expect.  This is different. New. She's reinvented herself yet again. And it's just mindblowing seeing her there. The consummate performer. Showing off to the crowd.

I just hope she knows what she's doing. But gawd does she look so beautiful now.

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: BustyTiffany35 on February 10, 2018, 05:31:40 PM

My back is turned to the entrance stage as I shed my jacket and toss it over the black steel ring post behind my corner of the ring, when I hear a woman?s voice. A sinful, silken smooth voice, brimming with confidence and bravado, sensual yet dangerous, a siren?s call to all us weary, wayward travellers. Her voice.


I turn to the stage, eyes narrowing at the Unbreakable one standing there at the top of the ramp, while the loudspeakers pump fucking Britney Spears into the Viceroy. A smirk slowly forms on my full glossy lips as I watch her step under the spotlights, in her thick, stylish fur coat and shades. She?s even wearing a top hat. And to top it all off, she?s brandishing a whip - that?s on fire.


She swings the fiery whip high above her head and brings it down HARD, with a slashing cattleman?s CRACK that almost makes me flinch. I can feel the heat of all that fire from where I?m standing inside the ring. And she goes to town, twisting and slashing that blazing whip, the fire seething and trailing behind a slashing leather, the sound of it snapping hard on the metal of the stage leaving the large crowds gasping in awe.


CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.


It?s almost hypnotic, watching her handle that whip with such razor-edged precision and flawless expertise. It reminds me of that one, dark night in Paris, reminds me of how Rowan moves, how fiercely she attacks, how fast she is. Inhumanly fast. My eyes narrow, hands tightening into fists.


Rowan Chance is the kinda woman that once ya see her, ya just can?t take your eyes off of her. Whether ya like it or not, ya follow her every move, and as she saunters down the ramp I do just that, my narrowed eyes following every step that brings her closer to the ring. Until she?s standing by the ropes, wrapping that whip around her post, shrugging that fur coat off to reveal her classic ring attire adorning her luscious body. It?s all tight, all pleather. And those domme boots. Gawd, those fuckin? boots. I watch closely as she enters the ring, in a way that only Rowan would, extending her damn leg high above her head, over the top rope, and swinging herself around to land smoothly into her corner.


Ya know, ya coulda just, stepped through the ropes, but whatever sugah..


But what really catches my attention is the grace in her movements, the effortlessness. She?s moving around just fine, as if her spine wasn?t ever broken at all. That match with Megan in Paris took her out for a year. That match she had, after a year?s recovery, with Lisa gawd damn Starr nearly ended her career. She shouldn?t even be walking, let alone wrestling again. And yet, here she stands, across the ring, smiling at me with those tempting, kissable blood red lips, looking as fresh and poised and ready to fight as ever, without a hint of injury, not a sign of distress. I lick my glossy lips, and grin. Good.


I want ya Unbroken.


I slowly step outta my corner, putting my flowing platinum mane into a tight ponytail, eyes never once leaving Rowan. Your music dies down, and the audience lets out a heavy mix of cheers and boos. The ref waves her hand, signalling for the bell. And as it DINGS loudly, I circle around to the right, inching closer to ya, feet shuffling smoothly, moving almost like a boxer. Toned arms raised up just at eye level, fingers splayed out, I step in quick, looking to tie-up--

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: Rowan Chance on February 11, 2018, 10:01:29 PM

The bell rings and the bombastic bombshell stands on the other side of the ring from me. The last time I was in a ring...it hurt. More than just physically. Losing to Lisa Starr of all people. And Tantalus...I didn't even remember what happened. I had to watch it on video. There's a lot of that happening these days. And I'm tired of it. Sick and fucking tired of it. Lisa was always griping and whining about being abandoned. About everyone making a joke out of her.

The last two matches I had, I lost. One of them was an hour long war that put both of us in the hospital. Punky wears a brace on her knee now and I had to spend more than a year with chronic back pain, unable to compete in either of my chosen professions. Had to relinquish my sexfighting championship because I just couldn't do it. I couldn't be Rowan Chance.

Well that shit stops tonight. 

This crowd should be cheering me, but they're not. They should be happy I can even walk after what Punky did to me, let alone climb back into a wrestling ring. They don't see the subtle weight belt I've worked into my tights. They don't understand my domme boots are built to keep my back straight. They don't know how many pain killers I'll be on later tonight, how I'll be laying in a tub full of ice, how I'll be crying my eyes out as I shiver half to death.

They don't know any of that. And they wouldn't care if they did. What they want to see is me groaning and pleading and crying out as they fulfill their vicarious fantasies of getting their hands on me. The things they imagine they would do to me.

Fuck them. And not in the fun way.

That's the head I'm in when you put up your hands for a classic collar and elbow tie up, Tiff. Maybe you see my eyes narrow. Maybe you see my lips curl. Maybe you hear my throat growl.

You want a villain? All right. Here she comes, bitches.

I make like I'm going for the collar and elbow, but that's not what happens. Sure, I put myself in the position, and you even feel my hand on your shoulder, feel my legs pushing and my hips trying to find the best place to put my center of gravity...but when our arms are crossed, my sharpened thumbnail reaches right in for those pretty eyes of yours. The one I spent an hour filing down, just for you babe.

It reaches just under your eyelid, hoping to scrape the cornea, ripping upward into the eyelid. Twisting as it does. The meat of my thumb pressing against the eye itself, pushing it into your head.

Did you think this was some cheap ass Hogan eye rake, fuckers? Then, you weren't paying attention.

And that's the first rule, kiddos. Pay attention. You break that rule, and you'll be exactly where Tiffany is: in a whole flood full of trouble. And the water is rising.

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: BustyTiffany35 on February 12, 2018, 04:55:45 PM

You're a gorgeous woman, Rowan. I've always known that. But standing this close to ya as we're about to lock up, I have to admit I'm taken aback by how beautiful ya are, and it's a lil'.. distracting. My arms still rise up and I still lean forward to tie up with ya with a collar an' elbow, and in that brief moment I see something else besides your beauty. I see this determined look surface on your features, I watch your eyes narrow, I spot your crimson lips curling, and all the noises of the Viceroy crowd seem distant and muted to the growl that emanates from your throat. I see it on your face, caught it in your eyes, even if it's only for a second: you're angry, and you've got something to prove tonight.

I also see your hand, shifting upward the moment we meet in the collar/elbow tie-up. And I see it go right for my face. Specifically, I see your thumb, and that sharp nail, homing in on my eye.

I shut my eye hastily, a hair of a second before your nail could tear into it. I wince as your thumb still pushes hard against my shut eye, and I jerk my head back, hissing loud and angrily. Your eye-rake may not have gotten me fully, but jabbing your thumb into my closed eye still hurts, and it's certainly thrown me into a bit of a loop. We haven't even fully tied up yet and you've gotten the drop on me. But with an attempted eye-rake? Why, ya dirty lil' bitch..

Ain't gonna cry 'bout that now. Not like the ref will do anything, either. Dirty lil' attacks like that are allowed in the Viceroy, since there ain't much for rules. No, there ain't no time to cry or bitch. Gotta roll with it, and retaliate.

I grab your hand, and clutching it deathly tight. My head's jolted back away from your thumb and I'm blinking rapidly, glaring viciously at ya as I grip your hand. My other hand, which was on your shoulder a moment ago, slides up along the curve of your neck, feeling the smoothness of your skin under my palm. I tighten my fingers against the back of your neck, and with a growl of my own, I try to YANK ya toward me while THRUSTING a knee up, hoping it'll SMASH into your naval.

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: Rowan Chance on February 15, 2018, 02:06:13 AM

It isn't that I need to cheat. I don't. Go look at my matches and tell me I'm someone who gets by on cheating.

You go check out that match with Me...I mean, the Purple Volkswagen (short, stout, slow and always in need of repair) and you'll see what I mean. Sure, I lost, but you go 60 minutes with that little psychopath and see how far you go.

I don't need to cheat. But having picked up the skill only recently, I can tell you a truth I learned: cheating makes everything else so much easier.

I didn't want to be in a lockup with Tiffany. Fuck no. She's taller, stronger...bigger. I mean, Jesus, look at those tits. A girl could get goddamn smothered in those monsters.

No, I want to keep as much distance between me and Tiffany as possible. So when she grabs the back of my head and tries for that belly kick, I immediately grab her wrist and scream.

"Ref! Ref! The hair! The hair!"

The referee sees Tiffany's hand at the back of my skull, sees my head "pulled back" and she intervenes. That cuts off Tiffany's little plan of planting her knee into my belly. She steps between us just as Tiffany--that's you babe--gears up for the kick. Pushing us apart. Slapping her hand on the back of my neck.

"Thanks, Ref," I say, smiling sweetly. Even flirting a little. The referee blushes and steps back.

And when the ref is between us, I send a quick slap towards your head, Tiff. Just a love tap, really. I do it nice and slow.

That's because I don't want you see me duck low and spin and send the tip of my domme boot right into the back of your knee. Right where the cartilage and tendons are so vulnerable. That heavy boot, straight in there. Making sure you're paying attention to what I'm doing above, so you don't see what I'm doing below.

Yeah. I'm the villain. Know why?

I'm sweeping the leg.

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: BustyTiffany35 on February 17, 2018, 01:41:56 AM

My fingers tighten behind your neck, my other hand clutching the hand that jabbed its thumb into my eye. I'm all set to drill my knee right through your stomach when ya start screaming frantically. I wasn't expecting ya to yell like that, so even I pause the moment. My knee's cocked and ready to fire, but I stall, 'cause I'm trying to figure out what you're hollerin' about. When I finally figure it out I can?t help but roll my eyes.

Seriously..

As if on cue, the ref gets in between us, stopping me from unleashing that knee. I leave that bullet in the chamber for now as the pretty ref swaps my hand away from your "hair", and I just start to boil when I spot ya thanking the ref for breaking us apart.

The ref even starts to admonish me for "grabbing" onto your raven blue braid when outta nowhere, ya slap me! Your hand just snaps off the side of my head, hard enough to get me to perk up, but not hard enough to cause any real pain. And definitely hard enough to piss me off.

I furrow my brow and move forward to grab hold of ya, when ya suddenly drop outta my line of vision! Another moment wasted to figuring out what the hell you're doing, when it quickly dawns upon me that you've ducked down and your body's spinning at my feet. If I had the time to, I'd smirk.

Oh sugah, I never realized you were a Cobra Kai..

I see your sweep kick coming before it even happens, because an attack like this always happens. I'm usually taller than most of my opponents, so naturally, those gals would go for my legs. In virtually every match that I've been in one or both my legs are targeted. I'm not even mad at that, It's the smart thing to do. And I've developed a kind of Sixth Sense about it, anticipating the attack will happen, knowing exactly how to defend against it.

But the difference here is your speed. Kairi was fast. Reiko was, too. Sadie was freakishly fast. Punky was even faster. You though, darlin'? Gawd DAMN, I think ya may be faster than any gal I've ever fought before. You move so swiftly, so smoothly, that sexy leg slicing through the air in such a blinding blur. In less than a blink of an eye, that heavy Domme boot sweeps around and the point of it is about to connect with the back of my knee - that is, if I wasn't prepared for it. You would have gotten me if I wasn't ready, and I would be on the canvas right now, clutching my knee in agony. But I am prepared for it, and I simply lift my foot up as high as I can before your foot can make contact, and with my leg up in the air your foot will just sweep under my boot and then I'll probably stomp down on your prone body--

--except, again, you're so gawd damn fast.

The tip of your boot does hit my leg as I lift it outta the way - it slams into my toned calf instead of the back of my knee, and the force of your sweep kick is enough to send that leg flying up into the air. I lose my balance, and go crashing onto the canvas, right down onto lower back. The bright lights of the Viceroy shine down on me as I lay on my back with my calf now throbbing, stinging painfully from your sharp kick. But I can handle this, it's just my calf that's hurting and not my knee. Uncomfortable as all hell, but I can manage this better than getting my knee clipped. I just narrowly missed that kick, though. I gotta really do something 'bout your speed..

I glance over and see you're still in a crouched position having completed the sweep kick, still very close to me.

With a feral growl, I ignore the throbbing in my calf, turn slightly so I'm facing your side. All the while, bringing both my legs up and together - bundled tight, I bring them close to my chest, then PROPEL my boots forward, hoping they'll smash into your ribs before ya have time to advance on me!

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: Rowan Chance on February 24, 2018, 06:46:22 AM

Those damn long legs...

Boots come flying at my ribs faster than I anticipated. You're big. You're strong. But damn, if you don't have some speed in you, too. We'll have to take care of that.

But in the meantime, those boots connect, kicking me backward, knocking me hard. I fall back on my training as my body falls back, tumbling instead of landing hard. Still, that kick to the ribs hurt. As I tumble backward, landing on my knees, I can't help but grab at my side, my teeth gritting in my mouth, nostrils flaring.

I'm on both knees, close to the ropes. I can hear the announcers behind and below me.

"Chance took a good hit there. A smart strategy from Tiffany: cut off her breathing and you cut off everything else."

I know I'm the only one in the whole building who noticed they called me "Chance" and called you "Tiffany." Just another reason to hate you.

I don't hate you yet, Tiff. But you're earning points.

The stiff pain in my side will fade with time. But until that time, I have to keep you off balance.

Three steps ahead, my sensei taught me. Stay three steps ahead.

I'm on my knees. A glare in my eyes. You're a few steps away, about half a ring. So, I decide to push up to my feet, run across the room and make all the movements I need to telegraph a front face lock. Make 'em bright orange and loud, just like a traffic cone. So loud, there's no way you can't see them.

But that's just a feint. For a big, dumb blonde like you, I shouldn't need anything more than that, but the kick proved I have to keep you at leg's distance. That's why at the very last minute, as I'm charging toward you, aiming for your neck, I'll drop flat on my back and slide, arms outstretched, hoping to hook your ankles. Slide right under you as you brace for the front face lock. Arms outstretched so I can catch your ankles, slide under, throw you face forward.

Flat on the mat, face down. That's where I want you. Because then...oh, Tiffany. Do I have a surprise.

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: BustyTiffany35 on February 24, 2018, 10:12:01 PM

I breathe a heavy sigh of relief as my boots connect with Rowan's waist. She's launched back across the ring with the thrust kick, but instead of crashing bodily into the boards, she tumbles smoothly onto the canvas. Graceful even when falling.

I watch her as she rolls fluidly onto her knees by the ropes, and for a brief instance I catch a look of pain that bites her expression. I spot her gritting her teeth, breathing heavy, clutching her side, and I grin, my confidence bolstering. Bet that kick must have stung, Rowan. Good. There's plenty where that came from, and I'm gonna give ya more of it sugah, all night long.. Gotta follow up now, keep the pressure on. Capitalize on that strike, keep pounding on those ribs and keep her breathing hard. If I can cut her air off then I'll be able to slow her down, take away her speed, get her to move like a normal human being. 

There's a far easier strategy that I could initiate. I could always just go after her ba--NO. No, I ain't gonna do that, I don't have to do that to beat her.

I sit up and I see her wipe that pain-streaked expression clean off her gorgeous face with a sharp, deep breath, a look of anger swelling in those dark, fierce eyes. I glare back at her, and start to get up, but she's already moving.

Rowan's already crossed the ring, and already on me. I just 'bout get to my feet when I see her arms shoot out, looking to wrap around my head and neck. She's striking first, trying to wrap me up and keep me under her control before I could even get the chance to go after her and deliver some real damage. Front face lock, huh Rowan? Made that SO obvious! I'll let ya lock me up, so I can get close enough to POUND your side with my fist, or maybe hit ya with a Northern Lights Su--wait. WAIT.

Gawd DAMN, you're slick.

Ya weren't going for that front face lock AT ALL. It was all a setup - like that lil' love slap from earlier, meant to distract me up high before ya spun down low to sweep my legs from under me. I caught on to your sneak attack then, but now - I don't have time to counter ya. You've distracted me enough with that front chancery attempt, only to go low, again, this time sliding between my legs while grabbing onto both my ankles! You pull HARD on my legs and I'm THROWN forward, unable to counter your quick trip, unable to even put my hands up to protect my face before I drop into the canvas, unable to do anything but fall to the ground.

"OWF!" I groan, as the mat rushes up beneath me and I just slam down harshly onto the boards! My breasts take the brunt of the fall, mushrooming agonizingly beneath me, followed up by my face that just smacks off the hard canvas! I'm put in a daze as I crumble onto the mat, laying there in a disheveled heap. Face down, flat on the mat, with Rowan probably up on her feet and looming over me from behind. Despite the pain that's blushing on my chest and face, I'm really more embarrassed than hurt.

I'm a lil' slow in getting my bearings back in order, but I do begin to stir. While I lay there, I can't help but mentally kick myself for falling for another one of this villainess' traps. This time though, she caught me good. That flood of trouble's on the rise again..

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: MeganMuscleBarbie on February 25, 2018, 11:01:36 PM

Wow!  Now this is how board fighting is supposed to be!

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: Rowan Chance on February 27, 2018, 05:58:51 PM

Sliding under you, hooking your ankles, and feeling your body fall face-first behind me.

Yeah, the magic's back.

I move fast, turning and grabbing one of your ankles. I bend your knee, twist it around my leg, grab your other leg and twist that, locking it all together. Then, I fall backward, onto my shoulders, with one hand on your twisted up ankle.

That's right bitch. An oldie but goodie. And with that in mind, a little backstory...

* * *

"You are Lady DDT," the promoter said, handing me the mask. It was a plain black mask with the letters "DDT" along the top.

I wanted to say, "You've got to be kidding me." I wanted to spit in his face and walk away. I wanted to kick his ass and leave him laying in a pool of his own blood and humiliation.

But I took it. I bowed. And I said, "Arigatōgozaimashita."

And for a year, I was Lady DDT. My gimmick was simple: I did DDTs. That's it. Nothing else. Just DDTs. Swinging DDTs, Tornado DDTs, Reverse DDTs. You name it, I did it. I tried to think of this whole year as being in Mr. Miyagi's backyard painting the fence. Up, down. Up, down. Up, down. Maybe they'd change my gimmick to "Lady Suplex." Learn how to do the DDT right and you'll...

...nah. It was a comedy gimmick. After spending months in America learning the basics in Canada at the Lance Storm Wrestling Academy, the only thing I was allowed to do was DDTs. For a year. And I worked it. I figured out how to pull a DDT out of nowhere. Randy Orton had nothing on me. I learned speed. I learned deception. I forced myself to figure out a way to work the one move I was allowed to do into every match. Fuck this promotion. Fuck them in the ear. I was going to get over as Lady DDT.

A goddamn year. Nothing but DDTs. And I got over. People cheered when I showed up. I was the gaijin comedy underdog. They wanted me to win. I was getting over in Japan as Lady DDT.

Then, one night, I had the opportunity to do something I learned in Canada. I saw it. Like someone handing me a gift. It was a move Mr. Evers taught me that I had been saving. And I was getting my ass kicked that night. I mean, hard. My opponent thought I was finished and was taunting the crowd. And when she turned, I did exactly what I just did to you, Tiff. I ran forward, slid between her legs, hooked her ankles and flopped the bitch straight on her face.

Then, I applied the move I worked on with Lance. I bent her knee, twisted it around my leg, grabbed her other leg and twisted that, locking it all together. Then, I fell backward, onto my shoulders, with one hand on her twisted up ankle.

And I pulled.

I didn't have a name for it back then. I just did it. And that bitch tapped in less than three seconds. An inverted, reverse figure four. Her face down, me face up, applying the figure four leg lock.

Less than three seconds.

That's because it's ten times worse than the figure four. It hits all the same spots, but hits them in exactly opposite ways, bending the knees and ankles in every direction they aren't supposed to go. And it isn't just the pain that makes you want to tap. It's the sensation of feeling your knees and ankles about to pop right out of their sockets. That is what makes you want to tap.

I put that move on that bitch and she tapped. Like a one-month rookie, she tapped.

I walked back through the curtain and the promoter fired me. Right there on the spot. I didn't care. I was done being Lady DDT. I walked by him. When he grabbed me, I dropped his fat head on the concrete. With a DDT.

I went right back to my dressing room and sat down. I threw the mask to the floor.

What now? What do I do now?

Looking down at the floor, planning my "triumphant" return home, a pair of expensive shoes entered my vision. I looked up. Expensive slacks. Expensive shirt and tie. Expensive jacket. The whole thing must have cost over a million yen.

I got up to the face and saw an older version of a wrestler I watched on TV when I snuck my brothers' old video tapes into my room.

"Nice move," he said in English, his accent so heavy, his vowels nearly swallowed his consonants. "Let me show you how to do it better."

I was looking up at Keiji Mutoh. The man I spent the next six months training under.

And he taught me how to "make it better," Tiff.

So much better.

Now...


"TAP YOU BLONDE BIMBO BITCH!!!"

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: RedEnforcer on February 27, 2018, 11:01:42 PM

This is a little uncomfortable. We're only a few moves in and Rowan's not Rowan.

Gone is the sultry, seductive vixen who liked to play mind games with you.  The person in the ring now seems...different.

Not just different, scary.

I have no idea what sacrifices Rowan made just to be able to stand in that ring. I know that a while back when she took my mask, she was in pretty damn rough shape.  Pain pills only delay the inevitable.  But this, she seemed back to fighting shape. But she's altered her style.

Eye rakes are more about fear than actual pain. You get the person so distracted hoping you haven't damaged the soft part of their eyes that they end up making their own vision blurry by rubbing them.  But what Rowan tried was much more vicious. It smelt like Muta. I wonder if she went back to him for help. 

And even now, seeing her move so quickly..yes it has shades of the woman I've tangled with in the past, but it's a different...tone.

Gone was much of the sensuality in her movements. No, this Rowan. This person dressed in my...in her body looked like Rowan but with the sex replaced with violence. There's a viciousness to her.  One that has me worried that Tiffany is going to get severely hurt. I don't think Tiffany prepared for this Rowan. I'm sure she thought all she had to fight off was Rowan's erotic stylings.

But this isn't that Rowan. And Tiffany may be able to fend her off, but I don't know....

Ouch.

Shit.

Tiffany's face first. And Rowan's going for her legs.

Not good. Not good. 

Tiffany's gonna need to regroup and restrategize to get back in this. IF she can walk after this hold.

I hear Rowan scream out for Tiffany to tap.

And as much as I'd like to see Tiffany fight up, part of me hopes she listens.

I don't know who that is in that outfit in the ring. She may look like Rowan, but more like a Rowan focused on destruction.

Tiffany's or her own?

At this point, I don't know which it'll end up being.  And that's what scares me the most.

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: BustyTiffany35 on March 01, 2018, 04:53:16 AM

Right now, my lovely adversary, Rowan Chance, is shrieking at the top of her very lungs for me to tap. The pretty ref is hovering over my head, asking me if I wanna submit. All around us, dozens upon dozens of fans are wondering if I will give up. Even more people in the audience are thinking it's a pretty good idea that I should tap out now, because this is one sick hold and my legs are lookin' like they'll snap into pieces and this sadistic harlot will NOT let me go until I tap.

And as I start to scream, my voice bellowing into the L.A night, I can't help but think that, in pure disgust I should add, already people want me to quit.

This early in the match, so damn soon in the fight, and people are already telling me I should quit? You people all think I'm already done, don't ya? Finished before I even started? Is that how low your opinion of me really is? You actually believe I have no chance of gettin' outta this hold, that I should just quit now or risk severe injury? Is that what y'all think?

Well fuck y'all.

Ya don't get to be called 'Queen' by letting others tell ya what to do.


Still, this hurts like a fuckin' bitch.

The pain is one thing. The tension in my twisted up and tangled legs is building to the point where every second spent trapped in this insidious hold is pure, searing agony. But it's not just the pain that's overwhelming - it's this sick, dreadful feeling that my joints may just rip apart, that my sockets, which are wailing in sheer torment as they're being pulled in the WRONG directions, could easily pop at any given second. The longer Rowan keeps me here, the more likely that could very well happen - she's not making any of this easier the way she's yanking down on my ankle, too. Gawd damn bitch. It's like I'm slipping, rapidly, down an icy slope, drawing closer to the edge, sliding quickly and helplessly into oblivion.


No. No. FUCKIN' NO..


Stop thinking about the pain, I snap at myself. Stop thinking, fearing, that your sockets will pop or your joints will tear apart or that your legs will break into two. Stop thinking about any of that shit, and just focus. Breathe, focus. And MOVE.


The Viceroy became very loud, very fast. The audience sounds like they're screaming in tongues. Rowan's a banshee, her deafening screams ringing out into the night. But the only person screaming louder than Rowan is ME. The second she locked in this wretched hold I just let my larynx erupt. Shockwaves of my agony spread to every corner of the Viceroy. However, my screams die out quick, replaced by desperate gasps as I clench my jaw, planting my palms into the canvas, and with a mighty breath, I push myself up. Triceps hardening as they extend, shuddering all over, choking back another cry of anguish. The pain, the agony, the fuckin' shit-show that's happening in my legs right now - I can't think 'bout that now. I mustn't. I have to block it out, ignore it, pay it zero attention. Don't think about the pain, instead, think about getting out. Focus on that, and only that. Feverishly, my mind starts to recall Aleister Black's guided meditation - it could work for this, work at keeping the pain at bay. Block it all out so I can just concentrate on crawling. Or, more accurately, clawing and scraping toward the ropes. Fucking dragging myself to a rope break. Cause there ain't no way to break outta a hold like this once it's tied onto ya. You're fucked, unless ya can get to them ropes. 

If you're in a fight with someone taller than ya, their height doesn't mean anything once ya get em' on the ground. I believe that, to an extent. Maybe in an MMA fight, maybe a street fight, maybe in a catfight will that piece of advice ring true - but when you're in a ring having a pro-wrestling match and you're as tall as I am, and you're taken to the ground and tied up in a horrible submission hold, yes, your height and size won't be able to do much for ya now that you're trapped--


However, y'all can get to the ropes a lot quicker, since your taller, bigger body can cover a lot more ground.


The audience is pulsing with sound, screaming loudly, some telling me to TAP, others shouting wild encouragement to NOT. I fuckin' love you if you're the latter. I reach forward, right hand digging into the canvas. Left hand following through a second later, crashing heavily onto the mat. I shake my head and hiss out at the ref that that WASN'T me tapping and she better not mistaken that or I've got a Flatliner ready for her. With a raw, animalistic growl, I pull my weight forward - and ROWAN'S as well!

"NNNGHH!!"

Through clenched teeth I whimper, I scowl, I shake all over. Rowan doesn't weigh that much at all, but in this situation, she's a 2-tonne cement block that's chained to my twisted legs. And pulling on those twisted legs just promises me a thousand worlds of suffering and fury to reign down over my distorted joints. It's excruciating. But I FORCE the pain away, and DIG my elbows into the boards, and with a heaving pull, I WRENCH myself forward, DRAGGING Rowan along with me. Forward. Always. Have to keep going forward, keep crawling forward, keep moving forward..forward..

I glanced up with teary, glossed eyes, ragged breaths barely seeping through clenched lips. Two more feet to go. Looked more like two fuckin' miles. I've dragged the both of us from the centre of the ring, to within reaching distance of the bottom rope. Another pull, another drag, another muffled scream. The past several seconds it took to crawl and claw to this point felt like a hellacious eternity. My legs are hurting, bad. But I'm almost there, they're so close I can fuckin' taste em'.

My twitching hand rises up, reaches forward, fingers grasping for the bottom rope, tightening around it--

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: Rowan Chance on March 02, 2018, 08:34:06 PM

Reaching for the ropes, eh? That's fine, you can do that, Tiff. Your long legs and torso and arms give you a significant advantage in the ring when it comes to breaking a rule so you can escape my hold.

And I tell you that.

"Go on, Tiff. Reach for the ropes. Prove to the world you can't break the hold on your own. Show the world who the better wrestler is."

I yank on your ankle, pulling it, twisting it.

"Show the world who the better woman is."

You're getting closer. Closer.

"Show it to Punky. Show it to Red. Show it to them all. You grab that rope and you prove...you can't take me."

TWIST

"That you're not enough for me."

PULL

"That you're not the woman I am!"

Your fingers are poised to grab the rope. Just an inch above.

"Go on, Tiff. Prove to them all what kind of woman you really are."

YANK
PULL
TUG
TWIST

Your fingers within range.

All you have to do is close your grip.

And prove everything I'm saying is true.

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: BustyTiffany35 on March 04, 2018, 04:02:40 PM

My hand's within reaching distance. Fingers about to tighten around the bottom rope. Then, I pause, and look up. And turn my face over my shoulder to glare at ya.

In my younger days (signs) I would have actually believed your trash talk. I would have listened and tried to oblige ya and break outta this hold on my own. And risk severe or even permanent injury in the process. In my younger days I would have actually believed whatever nonsense was dribbling outta your mouth at the moment and been foolish enough to take the bait. But I'm not that woman anymore. I'm a lot older (sighs) now and far more wiser than that naive lil' hot-head that used to run around the Indies proving how tough she is and how much Fighting Spirit she had.

The reality is, I can't get outta this hold on my own. I'm not a top-level elite grappler like Callista Quinn, so I wouldn't even know how to begin to slip outta a move like this. The only clear escape is a rope break and sugah if ya wanna make me feel like shit for grabbing the rope, just know that ya didn't make me tap. Do ya still think you're the better wrestler?

And if ya think going for a rope break means you're too much for me, that it is taking the easy road out, then ya really gotta reassess some things about yourself, Ms.Eye-Raker. 

The reality is, I can't show the world who the "better wrestler" is if I'm stuck like this, with her YANKING, PULLING, TUGGING and TWISTING away on my poor leg.

I'm gettin' too old for this shit, Chance.

So I turn my face over my shoulder to shoot ya a glare. It's a look that's clouded with pain and weariness, but a look that's boiling hot with anger. With fury. With promises of hurting ya so badly you'll need another three doctors to clear ya to wrestle yet again.

I scream out at ya, "SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU STUPID LITTLE BITCH."

I turn back to the rope and grab it.

Not even looking back I growl at the ref who's still hovering close to us,"GET HER THE FUCK OFF OF ME. NOW."

I clutch that bottom rope until my knuckles start to turn white. My other hand reaches a lil' further, grabbing onto the edge of the apron. I wait for the ref to tell Chance to untangle herself from me. I know Viceroy refs, they'll get physical if they have to and this one's ready to yank Chance off of me if she needs to. And once my legs are untangled, I'm gonna pull myself out and slide outta the ring for a much-needed breather. Rest this leg, get it back into working condition, then get back in there and kick her fuckin' head in.

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: MeganMuscleBarbie on March 06, 2018, 10:41:16 AM

Mmmmm!  This is delicious!

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: Rowan Chance on March 07, 2018, 02:27:05 AM

You reach the ropes, squeezing them for all you're worth. Screaming at me.

I laugh at you. Yes... I laugh at you.

The referee tells me to break the hold. "I've got a four count," I hiss at her.

So, she starts counting.

"ONE!"

I TWIST that ankle of yours again. Digging my fingernails into the skin. Those ligaments under the skin taking so much pressure, wanting to pop.

"TWO!"

You can feel the lateral and medial ligaments almost getting torn from their roots.

"THREE!"

I'm counting along with her. Taunting both you and her. Rolling my eyes as she counts. I don't want your ligaments sprained...I want them TORN.

"FOUR!"

Last chance. I TUG hard on your ankle as I twist it. Make sure you can't walk on that bitch for a month without limping. I even throw an elbow down, right on the tip, right under the bone that lets your ankle pivot. Just to make sure.

Then, I raise my hands and kick my legs, making sure one heel hits you in the ass on your way out of the ring.

"GET OUT OF MY RING, BITCH!" I shout at you as you skedaddle out. Falling down to the floor. I push myself up to my feet and raise my arms.

"MY RING! MY! GODDAMN! RING!"[/i]

I watch you out of the corner of my eye, making note of where you fall as I prance around the referee.

"Count slower next time," I whisper at her, smirking. "And I'll give you a kiss backstage."

She glares at me and starts her count on you. Ten count to get back into the ring.

The crowd boos and jeers. Let them. That's why they paid to get in here. To boo and jeer at me.

But they're not going to get what they really want. Because what they really want is to see me lose.

And I'm not losing tonight, Tiff. Not to a blonde bimbo like you.

Like I said, I'm keeping my eye on you. Making note of where you are outside the ring. Because if you get within any kind of reach, I'm gonna make sure the ref has to restart that count of hers.

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: BustyTiffany35 on March 10, 2018, 07:29:33 PM

This is the part in the story where the heroine is lured into a trap by the villain and is promptly captured. The villain takes her away to a remote location where she ties her up, trusses her with near inescapable knots, and locks her into a Death Trap. The villain thinks she has our heroine and confidently leaves her to her demise, but our plucky heroine escapes by the skin of her teeth..

Once you've dislodged yourself from my legs, I manage to frantically pull myself out and away from ya, screaming the whole time. That last vicious tug and that sharp elbow to the back of my booted ankle gets me to cry out with heavy abandon. Ya even sneak in a short kick to my backside which I do not appreciate, but it does send me on my way out. I slam bodily into the mats lining up along the ringside floor, laid out in a crumbled heap, clutching at my strained ankle almost immediately. Finally, I'm free - but at quite the cost.

I hear ya laughing from inside the ring at me and I just wanna punch ya in the throat.

I can't really do that, though. Can't really do anything at the moment. I must look like a real hot mess right about now: curled up into a fetal ball by the foot of the ring, my pain-wrought face buried in the mats, platinum hair outta its ponytail now tousled about, bare shoulders trembling, soft sobs retching from behind clenched teeth. Gawd, this hurts..

My fingers gently fondle my brutalized ankle, feeling as if it's hanging by the thinest thread. Those fingertips graze the tenderized tendons that Chance maliciously twisted on just moments ago, the pain so fresh and seething hot. Those tendons feel like they're being stabbed at by jagged daggers anytime I run my fingers along my ankle. Everyone watching can see me visibly wincing, they can see me bite down hard into my lower lip to stifle a whimper. I bite down so hard I can almost taste blood. I lay there for a long moment, just holding my ankle, breathing fast, moaning loud and hard.

"One!"

The ref's voice booms out from inside the ring, and everyone can see me twitch, see my neck crane and my head tilt back. Eyes are wary, watery, marred with pain and slow comprehension. Ref's starting her ten count, I realize. Her voice carries over the noise of the audience. The crowds watch as I slowly, painfully, drag myself up.

"Two!"

Everyone watches me get to my feet, seeing me twitch and tremble as I put pressure on my hurting ankle. They see me use the side of the ring for assistance, pulling on the apron skirt as if my life depended on it. They watch my strain to get upright, watch me hobble about on my "good" foot for a brief moment.

"Three!"

They see the pain written clearly across my flustered face, the struggle it took just to get both my legs under me, as well the time I had taken just to stand. I'm not lookin' too good at the moment, to all who's watching - the crowds of fans, the counting ref, Rowan - they all see that I ain't lookin' great at all. They obviously see the toughness, the relentlessness, tenacity that I possess for even being able to stand back up -

"Four! ..Five! ..Six!"

- but what they all clearly see is that I'm hurt. They all see the damage this unbreakable woman, this harlot, this villain had caused me in such a short amount of time. Just looking at my sorry state right now is clear evidence of that. But they all put their concerns aside to watch me turn to the inside of the ring, glaring vehemently at the dark-haired beauty brimming with confidence, smiling with such a boisterous amount of smugness that it makes me wanna suplex her through a window.

"Seven! ..Eight! Nin--!!"

Everyone watches as I grab hold of the bottom rope again, this time, to try and pull my big, busty and battered body back into the ring rather than to drag myself out. And they all see me tremble with agony, crying out in pain as I fold my legs beneath me, my damaged ankle sliding against the stiff edge of the ring. I get another hand to grip the middle rope to balance me as I kneel on the apron, leaning against the ropes for support, chest heaving, breathing hard and heavy. Everyone's sharing the same point of view and opinion of me right 'bout now and it's not a positive one - they must all be thinkin' I'm in trouble. Very deep trouble.

Rowan's already moving forward, advancing quickly, ready to make the pretty ref restart her ten count. She's got an attack planned already and she's looking to execute it. I feel her shadow looming over me, and it takes all my willpower to keep the grin from showing on my lips.


..just a lil' closer.. wait til' she's right on ya.. wait right until she attacks, then - counter, grab her, and hurt her.


Everyone watches as Rowan descends on me, and everyone, Chance included, at the very last second realizes that, yes, I am genuinely hurting - but I ain't hurting that severely. The damage is wretched, it's dreadful, it's debilitating. But it's not fatal. Yet, at least. I'm hurt, but not hurt to the point where I cannot retaliate, 'cause I still can. I can still fight, I can still beat ya, Rowan. Bad ankle and all, I'm gonna. Up until this point I led em' all on, made y'all believe I was in such dire peril, that Rowan had me right where she wanted me. Even took a lil' extra time out on the floor, made my cries a bit louder, played up that I was worse than I really am. Just so that I could draw the villain in close, real close, into a trap of my own.


This is the part of the story where the villain thinks she has our heroine..

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: Rowan Chance on March 19, 2018, 07:19:55 PM

I give you just enough time. Just enough time to feel the pain ease up. I know pain. I know it very, very well. And I know exactly how much time to give you. Enough time for you to figure you can walk on it again. Enough time to think you can get back into this fight.

But that's where you're wrong. You were never in this fight.

You thought this was a wrestling match. Oh, honey. That's not what it is at all.

This is me showing the world that I'm back. Showing the world that Megan didn't break me. Nobody can break me. Least of all a big-titted blonde bimbo.

And when I'm through with you, they're gonna be scraping you up off the mat with a shovel, Tiff.

This isn't a wrestling match. This is an assault. And since I'm who I am, it's armed assault. With a deadly weapon. And that deadly weapon...is me.

So, I step over to where you're at, just on the other side of the ropes. Grabbing at your hair. That long, luscious blonde hair. Just so I can force you to look into my eyes. Because I want you to see what's behind them.

No mercy.

I'm not the Rowan you met before Paris, Tiff.

I'm something else entirely.

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: BustyTiffany35 on March 22, 2018, 01:23:30 PM

My thick, wavy, platinum tresses now drape over my face and shoulders in a tousled cascade, wildly flowing down the length of my back having come loose from its ponytail. My silver-blonde hair's a big disheveled mess, and now, your fingers have sunk into them. Clutching my mane as tightly as ya do makes me wince, makes my scalp cry out in biting pain, causes tears to sting my eyes. But all those lil' pains and aches are trivial, they don't matter. I want this, I need ya to be this close to me. Grab my hair as hard as ya want, baby. Pull it real tight. Talk some more smack to me, why don't ya. Keep thinkin' I'm all yours. Keep believin' that, sugah. Your fingers tighten in my hair and with a harsh pull, ya twist my head back, forcing me to look up at ya.

And, I freeze.

The Viceroy ceiling shines with expansive white lights that frame your head, a dark shadow masking your cold, beautiful face as your eyes stare right back down into mine. Those eyes... they send chills down my spine. My mind was racing as fast as a SVR Coupe until they slammed dead into that daunting, impenetrable, reinforced vibranium roadblock of your eyes. I can't think, can't move, everything goes blank, goes cold as a February morning. It's all because of those eyes, those cruel, unnerving eyes, telling me - SWEARING to me - that you're gonna hurt me. That all ya care about is hurting me. You'll hurt me bad, with no remorse, no mercy. 

I shudder in your grip, and for that moment, as ya hold my hair and keep me on my knees and make me look into your soulless eyes, my heart begins to sinks in my chest. A tsunami of apprehension grip me, tightly, swallowing me up whole. Hopelessness and doubt start to haunt my thoughts, every pain and ache that I've ignored now burn alive, screaming vengefully across my battered body. I suddenly lose my breath, it's becoming difficult to focus. My knees dig a lil' deeper into the hard edge of the ring, my lower lip quivers, my hands reach desperately for the hands that are tangled in my tousled hair. Your grip, it's unflinching, like iron fists they keep me from moving. Your death stare continues to burrow into me, making me feel so vulnerable, so exposed.. so pathetic. And the more I stare into the darkness, the more your familiarity is lost on me. I could barely even recognize ya, Rowan. There were moments back in Paris when I'd look at ya and just stop and stare, wondering with ghostly astonishment just what the actual FUCK you really are. I questioned whether you were even human, and now, in this very moment, I'm getting that answer, and it scares me. It's real fuckin' scary.

And it's exactly what I wanted.

My knees tremble only for the moment before they go stiff, pushing down against the apron. My lips quiver, but only for a second before they curve into scowl as my teeth grinds inside my mouth. My claws dig into your hands that are still buried in my hair, cracking the flesh. And my eyes, whatever semblance of fear that lingered in them is gone, replaced with fury. They burn back into yours. I start to push myself up onto my feet.

I wanted this, I wanted to face something that would push me to my limits. Something, that would scare me. Something that would try to hurt me in the worst possible way, without hesitation. I wanted to face something else entirely. And now, it's arrived, it's here, pulling on my hair, silently promising to maim me in front of thousands. This is the fight I've been craving for. You're the one I been wanting for so long, Rowan..

My legs shift, one foot now planted flat on the apron. I breathe in deep, and push myself up, gripping onto your hand now, using you to balance me out, my nails digging deeper into your smooth skin. I rise up to my feet, slow but steadily, because that's what fighters like us do - rise to the occasion, when adversity glares down at ya, looming over ya, blocking your path, we rise up and we face it head on and we go through that bitch without hesitation. I'm standing now on the apron, hurting, disheveled, beat-up - but standing. I'm leaning up against ya, the ring ropes providing the only separation between us. My forehead is pressed firmly against yours, our faces so close to one another our lips almost, almost brush together.


And my eyes, they never leave the darkness of yours. I don't see anything, not the crowds of
cheering, screaming fans, not the lights of the Viceroy, not the ring. Only you. I see you, and what ya are, and I know what ya intend to do to me.

"Ya wanna send a message to the world, at my expense?" I whisper against your sweet lips, breathing hot air over your mouth. "Am I your sacrifice, Rowan? Is that it? I'm all yours, aren't I? You gonna sacrifice me to the whole world, in front of everyone? Well sugah.. I might be your sacrifice.. but tonight, you're MY TROPHY. And once I beat you I'm gonna fuckin' mount ya on my wall--"


I launch my left knee up, rocketing it high with a snap of aggression. Aiming it right into your stomach, hoping that ya won't see it coming, that you'll still be brimming with confidence that I'm still all yours, reeling and disoriented, ripe for the taking. Hoping that once the shot connects, it'll be enough to double ya over. So that once it does, I can grab YOUR hair, and hop off the apron, and fuckin' guillotine your throat over the top rope! 

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: Rowan Chance on March 26, 2018, 07:05:36 PM

A quick and stiff kick to the midsection always sucks. Always. No exceptions. And I even see this one coming. But my stupid, arrogant head is in the wrong place, and that's why it connects the way it does, just as you intended.

Your powerful leg lifts off the canvas and rams straight into me, lifting my feet an inch off the canvas, bending me over, knocking the wind out of me. I stagger back a couple of steps, my eyes wide open and confused, my lips pursed as I try to suck air into my lungs. My arms bent over, grasping my belly.

One step...two...three...all on reflex. I know I should get out of range and reach.

I stagger back, the impact and pain still in my gut. Damn, that was hard. She shouldn't be able to hit that hard. Sure, she's got strength, but that isn't just strength, it's something else. Something just as important: knowing how to hit that hard.

Fuck she almost kicks as hard as Punky punches.

I fall to one knee, but get back up again, still backing away. Keeping out of range.

I don't want to take another one of those.

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: BustyTiffany35 on March 31, 2018, 10:12:05 PM

Yes!

The knee connects, striking Rowan fiercely in the tummy. A hard, brutal blow on its own, what makes it especially devastating is that it was a calculated one. Striking her in that precise spot not only ensures she's NOT gonna advance on me anytime soon, but she's also gonna suffer in those moments. My eyes stare after ya as you double over, arms wrapping tight over your throbbing stomach. I straighten up and lean forward, fingers splayed out to catch that braid of hair--

No!

Damnit, your hair just slips outta reach, and ya begin a rough stagger back that puts ya completely outta range. I hiss out loud as that means I won't be able to grab your head and drop ya throat first over the top rope, however, you're backing up quite a bit. Doubled over and gasping, straining to catch your breath, to breathe. That knee certainly did a number on ya, sugah.. well, I'll have to keep that in mind. For now, I got a change of plans..

I duck into the ring, bending over the second rope as quickly as I can, flinching as my ankle stings with biting pain the moment I drop my boot onto the ground. I sink my teeth down into my lower lip, stifling a curse, and ignore it. I can still move it relatively well, can put weight on it. It's just a motherfucking inconvenience. I shake my head and snap my eyes up at Rowan. She's tumbled to one knee but is already getting back to her feet. She's backing away quite a bit, but also she's still hurting from the knee. I follow after her, a slight limp in my step, as I step forward it looks like I'm about to launch a closeline or a slap or hell, a knockout right hand. But instead, at the very last instant, I duck.

Still in the motion of going to launch a forearm or something to knock your head off, I duck down instead and pump my heels and step along your side. I aim to duck right under your left arm and circle around your hip to come up hot behind ya. My arms would wrap taut around your waist from behind, my ample breasts would rub all along your back, my breath wafting over the curve of your neck. And once I have ya clutched tight in a reverse waistlock, I'm gonna pop my hips, arch my back, lift, and German Suplex ya into the canvas!

A loveslap would have been great, but Rowan, sugah, ya deserve something a lot more, punishing..

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: NightHawk on April 01, 2018, 02:33:35 PM

Sits back watching this match intently . A amazing match so far  :)

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: Rowan Chance on April 08, 2018, 02:30:11 PM

Do me a favor. Hold your breath. But don't take a deep gulp first. Do the opposite. Blow all the air out of your lungs. Do it until there's nothing left...then keep going. Go on, keep going. Got nothing? All right.

Now, start doing jumping jacks. Go on, keep going. Do as many as you can. And do them without breathing.

Feel your lungs burning? Feel your head spinning?

Yeah, that's where I am right about now. After that knee to the stomach, I've got no gas in the tank and I've got to make my body move to avoid that clothesline. Ducking down, moving my feet to keep my base, trying to turn so I can get a...

...wait. She's got her arms around...

...my body flies up in the air, arms flailing around my head. Legs kicked out in front of me. The bottom of my body flowing right over the top as you toss me so hard, I make a complete 180.

My belly slams into the canvas, my torso snapping right back up. Head and chest feel the slap of the mat, harder than even a Gemma Rox punch. Raven black hair across my face. My eyes wide and unfocused. On my knees.

For a moment, my whole body tilts, arms limp beside me. Then, as sure as gravity, I slowly fall to my right, collapsing down to the canvas. My right arm flopping over my face, my left arm flat on the mat, my legs hooked at the knees.

My shoulders are down. But I don't even know that. I don't even know where I am right now.

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: BustyTiffany35 on April 12, 2018, 08:48:59 AM

I see ya, breathing heavy, straining to catch your breath. You're flustered and staggering, your footing uncertain, you're fighting just to keep your balance. Ya see me coming now, and that makes ya work double-time, I can see the gears churning away in your wary eyes as ya try to think of something to counter my incoming onslaught. Ya do what comes naturally, ya duck to avoid the closeline that it looks like I'm preparing for ya, but that closeline never comes - instead, I'm at your back, arms wrapped firmly around ya from behind, wrists interlocked and pushing into your throbbing stomach. Just along the angle of your neck, a dark grin curves my glossy lips.

Got ya, sugah.

I lift ya up, fists driving into your belly, arms crushing at your sides, my entire body curving back in a near perfect arch. The back of my head points directly at the canvas, arms coiled tight around your waist as ya fly through the air. I'm on my toes as I finish the snap German Suplex. You go soaring into the night.

Lifting your opponent up and simply tossing them across the ring is all good if you're running for mayor of Suplex City, but if you really wanna throw a bitch like a well-oiled Machine, then ya pay close attention to the finer details.  The pop of your hips have to be timed just right, ya have to arch all the way back, whip your head too just for the added momentum. All those lil' nuances have gotta be in play. And ya don't just let go of em' the second their feet leave the canvas. No, ya keep holding on, keep your arms cinched tight, keep on lifting and hoisting em' up in the air, so that once ya do let go and launch em' into the stratosphere at the very last second, they'll land hard, real freakin' hard, they'll crash badly, they'll hit the mat in the worst, most painful way possible. Sharp, precise, and devastating. Punky showed me how to throw a proper suplex, she throws them 'bout as good as that angry lil' workhorse from Redhook. Hell, she probably throws em' even better.

The crash of your succulent body into the canvas is like thunder screaming through a storm. It's such a loud sound it nearly drowns out the roar of the fans as they witness ya flipping completely through the air to slam devastatingly hard into the mat. I'm already on my feet as ya melt into the ground, and I pause for a moment as my eyes wander over your disheveled figure. You're wracked with pain, breathless and disoriented, and despite that, I can't help but notice there's a graceful, almost alluring quality in your ravaged state. My footfall fills your ears, black boots padding along the ring carrying me closer until I'm towering over you. Ya look so fragile, so vulnerable, so deliciously helpless right now, flat on your back, eyes wild and lost. I should probably pin ya right 'bout now. Instead, that grin crosses my lips, and I reach down and grab a handful of your hair.

I make sure to tug on your silky dark tresses extra hard as I haul ya up to your feet. Ya look like you're still uncertain of what's happening, which works out great for me, as it gives me enough time to slip in tight behind ya and guide your right arm through your legs. I clutch that wrist with my left hand from behind, firmly grasping it, keeping your right hand between your savory thighs. Then, I lean over your side, to coil my right arm around your left arm, lean back and pulling back on that arm until I've got it hooked tight. Wrapping ya up in an abdominal stretch--

Oh no, sweetheart. It's not as simple as that. You're going for a ride..

--except, instead of just stretching ya, I take a deep breath, and I aim to LIFT ya up into the air instead, and flip ya around right in front of me, so that when ya fall back to the ground, you'll go crashing down, aching throbbing belly-first, right across my bent knee! If I can hit this Pumphandle Gutbuster, then you'll know exactly where ya are right now - waist-deep in a whole lot of trouble.

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: Rowan Chance on April 12, 2018, 09:04:22 PM

When you're in pain, instinct takes over. There's a lot of instinct in pro wrestling.

Tuck yer chin.

That one gets pounded into you over and over and over and over again.

All those months I spent as Lady DDT gave me a few instincts. One in particular...

I'm in pain. Uncertain about where I am. Uncertain about...

...wait...there's...my hair...

...lifting off the canvas...

...arm between my legs...

...gutwrench...

...lifted up...

...above...the...head...

Tuck yer chin.

When you spend months as Lady DDT and all you're allowed to do is one move—just one move—particular instincts come up fast.

...lifted up...

...above...

You lift me up and my body flies easy. It's no problem for a powerhouse like you to lift my wiry frame and throw me with real momentum.

...lifted up...

...above...your...head.

My arm snaps, coiling around your neck, using all that speed, strength and momentum you just used to toss me. I grab my left wrist with my right hand and twist my body, spinning both me and you, dropping my weight below my hips so I can drag both of us down.

Down to the mat.

Your head.

Head meet mat.

Right now, the announcers are screaming about me trying to reverse your gutwrench into a swinging DDT. We'll see if they get to finish that thought.

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: BustyTiffany35 on April 13, 2018, 06:11:02 PM

Shit.

All it takes is a second. 

Shit.

One single second.

Shit.

For everything to turn on ya.

SHIT.

In a blink of an eye, the momentum shifts, and the whole world turns on me. I watch as your body floats in mid-air, spinning around as planned and expected. But then, something changes, the trajectory of your flight abruptly shifts. Instead of simply dropping down in front of me, to land on my bent knee, ya turn. Somehow, ya manage to turn your whole body in mid-flight, so that ya can loop your arm over my head. I feel your arm around the back of my neck, coiling tight and hooking me up for a very familiar move. I don't know how ya were able to do that, you were so out of it a moment ago. Maybe the toss up into the air woke ya up, maybe ya were playing possum this whole time. I dunno how, but all I do know is, you've got me locked up, and you're using MY own momentum to YOUR advantage. All it took was a second for everything to go crashing down.

My world goes spinning as I feel your wrists lock tight beneath my chin. I can't hold ya up, can barely keep my balance as ya continue to ride the momentum of the throw and spin us around. My ankle is beating fiercely as well, hurting again, offering lil' support to keep me upright. And then, ya swing your legs up at my side, pushing all your weight down below your core, making me trip forward and fall. Ya drag us down, the canvas rushing up to crash into my head and face, the sound of the audience collectively gasping in shock serenading me into this violent impact. I have to admit, it was a beautiful reversal, I didn't see it coming and I couldn't stop it from happening. Ya got me, ya have me, and I can't stop ya from planting my head viciously hard into the canvas. I can only hope my shoulder buries itself deep into your stomach as ya lay me out with your swinging DDT.


Once again, our plucky, busty heroine is captured by the luscious, cunning villainess..

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: Rowan Chance on April 13, 2018, 06:25:20 PM

As our bodies crash down to the canvas, I hear your head hit the boards with a loud, thick sound. The sound of a skull smashing into something hard and unforgiving. Like a melon hitting the floor.

And as we plummet toward the pain, my legs reach up and snap around your waist, just like a spider. My ankles hook around your back. And I don't let go of the DDT. No, ma'am. I keep it held tight around your neck.

Just as we hit, I feel you trying to put your shoulder into my belly. You manage that and it the pain hits my stomach. I grit my teeth and bite my lip, shaking my head.

Oh, no, sweetness. Not like that, you don't.

Still, it's hard to ignore the dull flame in my belly now. I'll probably suffer some sort of digestive indignity later tonight, but for right now, I've got you. I even whisper it so you can hear the words.

"I've got you."

My left arm was around your neck. Now, my right arm slides under your left armpit so I can grab my wrist and complete the lock.

Under you. My left arm around the back of your neck, my right arm under your arm, reaching under your chin and holding my wrist tight. My legs wrapped around your waist.

A front-face guillotine choke. In the '70's, they called this a sleeper hold. But just to make sure you understand exactly who it is you're in the ring with...

...with my left arm under your chin, I extend my thumb. Right up into your throat. Right against your windpipe. And right out of the referee's view.

I shove it hard. Making sure you feel not just the meat of my thumb, but the sharp fingernail, too. Pushing up, crushing your air. And I whisper it again.


"I've got you."

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: BustyTiffany35 on April 14, 2018, 08:31:12 AM

The busty heroine, having been captured yet again, is trussed up, bound and gagged and kneeling inside a small cage, glaring up at the villainess who stands on the other side. She's smiling down wickedly, arrogantly, at her captive, leaning forward, her beautiful face so close to the cage that her scarlet lips nearly brush the steel bars. And the villainess whispers three words that makes our heroine shiver in her bonds..

I'm planted headfirst into the rigid canvas, striking it so hard I'm immediately sent into a daze. I'm rocked, like an MMA fighter getting viciously kicked in the side of her head, or a boxer taking a furious right to the chin. Everything feels murky, distant, it all gets eerily quiet, except for an incessant ringing in my ears. My body's unresponsive, my limbs feel like deadweight, they've become anchors that keep the rest of me weighed down atop of Rowan. I can't move, can't think straight, can barely breathe. Breathe. Breathe.. I can't, I can't breathe..!!

It's as if I've shot down some dark winding tunnel, eventually reaching the end and blasting outta it into the icy cold waters of reality. I'm fully cognizant again and the splash of noises, feelings and emotions nearly drown me whole. It barely takes a moment for me to realize with waking horror that instead of rolling off of Chance following that impactful swinging DDT, I'm now laid firmly on top of her, but not by choice. She's got me here, trapped in her constricting embrace!

My ample breasts press firmly over her delectable breasts, my flat, toned tummy kissing her taut, smooth tummy. Her slender legs have coiled around my waist in a crushing iron grip, while her left arm is wrapped just as tightly around my neck. Her right arm slides under my left, both her hands locking solidly to keep her choke hold sealed in place. My head's throbbing from the DDT but that'll soon pass, hell, I can easily ignore that as I've got far more pressing matters to focus on. It's become so hard to breathe, and the air of the Viceroy suddenly becomes very hot. At least the ringing in my ears have stopped, or maybe it's become far too loud for me to even hear that bothersome sound. The noises of the crowds have amplified, growing in deafening waves of shouts and screams. And yet, hovering above all that clamor, is her voice - your voice, whispering to me three words that send chills down my spine.

I hear ya Rowan. I hear ya loud and clear, and I shiver in your grasp.

Ya murmur that taunt and it makes my blood boil, it makes me burn up inside. Inflamed with humiliation at having been caught again, trapped in another insidious hold by my smaller, but insanely skilled opponent. My ankle is still sore from the inverted figure-four that ya had me in, and now you've got me locked up in this. This, a guillotine choke, a mighty tight one at that. You've got it cinched in so tightly it's become uncomfortable to breathe. 

And then, ya shove your thumb against my throat, your sharp nail digging into my skin, crushing the air right outta me!

My watery eyes go wide, a gasping breath escaping my gaping mouth. Things go from bad to really fuckin' horrible in a single blink. I'm now FIGHTING to breathe, writhing and squirming above ya, straining with all my might to gulp down even a single bit of air as your thumb continues to bury itself into my throat! Panic starts to settle in my mind, sheer panic - and rage. Despite my peril, I can't ignore how dirty you've been fighting this whole time. Crafty, cunning, resourceful - ya, whatever. You've been playin' dirty and I ain't too fond of that at all! Ya tried to use your nails to claw my eyes out when the match started, now you're using your claws to tear into my windpipe? Best of all, the ref can't see any of this happening. I grit my teeth tightly.

Ya just can't stop being the villain, now can ya, darlin'?

I hear your sweet sounding voice again, riding over the wave of voices from the Viceroy audience. Taunting me, telling me with such assurance, that you've got me. You got me... I bite down on my teeth even harder. I ain't gonna go out like this, I swear to myself. Sorry love, but I'm not gonna let ya take me like this!

I gulp in as much air as I can and get to work. I hastily reach in with my right hand and latch onto your left wrist. I grab it, squeeze it, scrape my own claws into it. I pull down, as hard as I can, to alleviate the pressure ya have on my neck. That thumb from your right hand is still jamming into my throat. I'll get to that in a second.

Next, I squirm and writhe against your luscious body, but my movements are a bit more, calculated. More focused. I'm shifting and sliding in tight lil' motions within your guard, until my feet have firmly planted themselves into the canvas. Then, I rise up, up onto my toes, lifting my hips into the air, dragging your tightly coiled legs up along with me as well. It takes a bit of effort on my part and there's still an incredible strain on my neck, but it's also a bit easier to breathe now that I'm pulling down on your left wrist. Just that bit of breathing space makes it easier for me to move. My upper body remains on the mat, on you, my weight pushing down on ya, smothering pressure against your upper body.

And my left shoulder pushes forward, right against your neck. My left arm now tries to snake around your head, so that the blade of my wrist can press up into the base of your skull. Trying to make this as uncomfortable for ya as possible, to make breathing for ya as uncomfortable as possible.

Back to your thumb. It's still jabbing into my throat, but not for long. My right hand, I move it from your left wrist to grab hold of your right thumb. I latch onto it tightly, placing a death clutch on it.

A naughty, dirty lil' gal like you Rowan deserves the harshest of spankings. But since I'm a lil' tied up right now, I'll just have to settle for givin' ya this.

And what this is, is a hard, sharp TWIST of your thumb. Trying with as much spite as I can muster to BEND that thumb back, as cruelly and as harshly as I can.


Ya got me, sugah. But ya ain't gonna keep me!

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: Rowan Chance on April 16, 2018, 09:34:39 AM

"I've got you..."

I can feel those words dripping into your ears, poisoning your will. Your body is losing its strength as I sap it from your muscles. No oxygen, no blood, no strength. None of that vaunted power of yours. Just a tall, lean, mass of helpless muscle. That's what you'll be soon. Or, you'll tap out. Either way, people are reminded of who I was. Won't be saying, "Hey, great match with Punky, but too bad you lost."

"You're the first victim, Tiff," I whisper. "You can thank pretty little Punky for..."

Something wraps around my thumb. Tight. I feel...

What the fuck are you...

I scream out loud as you twist my thumb nearly right out of its socket. You want me to let go of you. Trying to make me break the hold. Okay, bitch. I'll break the hold. But not in the way you were thinking.

I do just that. Let go of my wrist. Use my left hand to reach up and around your head, grabbing at those long, blonde locks. So easy to coil my fingers into. So easy to just grab on and hold on. And when I do get hold of your hair, I pull your head up. Yeah, up. Just enough so you can catch a quick breath. You'll need it after I've been shoving my thumb into your windpipe. You'll take a long, deep gasp. Good.

Because with my right arm, I'm bending it at the elbow, and sending the hard, boney tip of my elbow straight at the tip of your perfect little upturned nose. I'm gonna try holding your head in place as I spend just a second getting a really good aim. And you'll be distracted by trying to get that deep suck of air.

Seeing your breasts stretch across your chest as I pull your head up gives me another idea...but I'll save that one for later. Let's see if I can arrange a meeting between my elbow and your nose first.


And FUCK, my thumb hurts. She may have just knocked it out of socket...

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: BustyTiffany35 on April 17, 2018, 07:58:30 AM

Fingers locked tight around your thumb, twisting and bending, going so far as to snap it off if I have to. It doesn't look like I have to go those lengths as I feel your hands loosening their grip, your anguished, high-pitched scream still echoing around the ring. My fingers in turn release your thumb, letting it go, just as ya unravel your arms from around my neck. The unnerving pressure on my windpipe is cleared as ya take your hurting thumb back, and I slump down from the tip of my toes to lay my knees into the canvas. My taut stomach bumps into your flat tummy, sliding to rest heavily atop yours while my hands plant firmly onto the canvas on either side of your head. Your legs are still wrapped tight around my waist, the bottom of your thighs bumping against the tops of mine. It don't matter none, you've released me from that damn choke. I can breathe a lil' easier now, which I intend to with a deep breath. Then, I'll ground n' pound ya until those sexy legs unravel from my waist.

"First, victim..?" I rasp, the words moving up my throat like a jagged piece of glass. "Heh. Well, sugah. I'll, be sure.. to tell Punky... how ya FAILED... to make me, your first, vic--UHMMMNNA!"

Suddenly, your hand shoots up, moves around behind my head, grasping a handful of my hair. I feel those fingers tangle in my mane, latching on painfully, my scalp starting to scream. It happens so frequently, my hair getting pulled like this. All the pretty gals grab my hair and Rowan's one of the prettiest. I scowl at ya as ya grip my hair, feeling ya pull on my head to yank it back.

Yeah babe, pull on my hair, grab it a lil' harder. I love it rough like that. Hold on tight and pull as hard as ya can cause in a second I'm gonna rearrange that fuckin' gorgeous face of yours!

Actually, having ya pull my head back is doing wonders for my throat, stretching it out like this, letting me breathe a lot easier. I take a much needed breath after having your now possibly broken thumb plug my windpipe for a few scary seconds. But all comforts are fleeting and short-lived, especially when you're in a wrestling match, scratch that, a fight with Rowan Chance.

"NGH!!"

I see your elbow rushing up at me. I can't move outta the way with your hand clutching my hair, and so that elbow slams into my nose and strikes it so viciously hard my head snaps back and into your hand that's gripping my hair. Gawd DAMN that hurt! My eyes instantly tear up, this hot tingling sensation spreads across my face. I'm not bleeding, surprisingly, but it feels like ya put a big ol' dent in the middle of my face. I shut my eyes tight and clench my teeth and my right hand moves up instantly to cover my nose. I flinch - my fingers barely grazed it and already it started to sting. This intense throbbing almost instantly flares up, pounding away on the inner walls of my cranium, and for a moment I just woozily hang above ya, grasping my nose with my right hand, letting your left hand keep my head held back by my hair.

Ooh sweet lord, that hurt... That fuckin' hurt... That.. Fuckin'. HURT.

For that brief moment, I just hang there. Disoriented, whimpering softly, straining to breathe through gritted teeth and a possibly busted nose. My face is a throbbing mess right now and it's a wonder how I'm not bleeding all over ya. The pain in my crushed nose, it is horrific, it's distracting, it's almost unbearable - but, I'm still awake, and angry. When I get hit with shots like that, if they don't knock me out.. the first thing that happens is i get pissed. My anger, it'll outweigh the pain. It'll toss it to the wind and my body will snap into action, almost automatically. Already, the adrenaline is starting to kick into overdrive. It starts spreading through my body, firing on all cylinders, causing me to shudder on top of ya, losing all thoughts and inhibitions to focus on one thing alone: strike back.

One tearful eye pops open, to glare angrily down at ya. I plant my knees a bit harder into the canvas, lowering my right hand from my nose, tightening it into a fist.

That was a hell of a shot, baby... My turn.

I lean into your left forearm so that flat, sexy tummy of yours is nice and open. With a feral cry that barely escapes through clenched teeth, I rip my right fist down into your stomach, aiming my knuckles into your mid-section as fiercely as I can.

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: Rowan Chance on April 17, 2018, 06:29:51 PM

I see you stunned for a moment, and if it weren't for my current position, I'd take advantage of it. Unfortunately, your weight is a little too much for quick movements. I've got to figure out how to get out from under here. This is a bad place to be with someone as strong as you. One strong punch and...

...then I see the glare in your eyes.

...then I see you rearing back with that fist of yours.

Yeah. This is what I was afraid of.

I see the punch coming. There's no way to avoid it. No way. I can't dodge, I can't squirm, I can't use any of my famous agility to get out of the way.

I watch your fist descend with a rapidity that surprises me. Apparently, pissing Tiffany off adds points to her Dexterity. I'll have to note that.

And as everything slows down, I remember being a little girl, playing chess with my dad. I know, it sounds weird, but stay with me. Dad's a gamer. Like, old school. As in, his favorite platform is tabletop. And he taught me how to play chess. And on this particular day, he taught me one of the most valuable lessons I've ever learned.

Looking at the board, I see a move. I could capture Dad's queen, but it would mean losing my bishop. And I like bishops. I like how they move across the board so far and so fast. And angles. The angles are cool. Remember, I'm like nine years old. I'm looking at the board...looking at the board...

Dad says, "You should do it."

I look up at him. "What do you mean?"

He says, "You should sacrifice your bishop to take my queen. If you can sacrifice a smaller piece to capture the bigger piece, you should take it."

"But I like my bishop," I say, my voice a little sad.

"That's how life works, sweetie," he tells me. "Sometimes, you have to give up something you want to get something you need."

So, I see that fist coming down at me. Hard. Like a wrecking ball falling straight down on the hood of a car. And I remember what my dad taught me.

Sacrifice the bishop to take the queen.

In this case, the Platinum Queen.

Your fist hits my stomach and I feel all my inner organs shift. It hits so hard, it makes ripples on my firm, toned belly. I made sure to flex those muscles to lessen the impact, but that strategy had limited success. I feel all the air rush out of my lungs and through my mouth. My body arches up off the canvas. Arms flailing up. Legs kicking. My eyes wide as my mouth. And then, my body collapses back to the mat. For just a second. Just one precious second.

And despite the pain in my gut from your continued attacks, despite the ache in my body, despite the fact I have no air--I'm a sexfighter; I can hold my breath for a long, long, long time--my body snaps like a spider, my limbs reaching up and coiling.

I grab your extended arm.

I wrap my right leg under your chin.

Throw my left leg over your right shoulder, locking it in.

Tuck your arm in tight.

Grap at your pretty head and pull your neck down over my shin under your chin.

In MMA, it's called a gogoplata.

The Undertaker called it the Hell's Gate.

I call it the Widow's Kiss.

And if I can lock it in, you'll find out why.

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: BustyTiffany35 on April 22, 2018, 02:31:12 AM

I punched you. I punched ya so hard there ought to be a hole in your mid-section. I punched ya so damn hard my stomach was about to turn. My knuckles slammed deep into that aching tummy, I felt your very core shudder beneath my fist, heard that loud exhale of breath as your lungs emptied completely. You should be splayed out, motionless and groaning right now, ripe for the picking, helpless to the onslaught of my hammerfists that rain down onto your gorgeous face and body.

But, no.

That punch… it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to neutralize ya. It wasn’t enough to even slow ya down. If anything, my punch activated the trap that I’m now ensnared in. I'm tangled, trapped in your signature finishing hold, wrapped up in your web, inching closer to your mesmerizing face, closer to those immaculate lips. Closer, to oblivion.

..no...

The Widow's Bite. I never saw it coming. Never expected it to, either. For that brief second as ya laid there following my punch, I felt such a rush of confidence. For that moment alone, I was free of any fear, absolved of all doubt, relishing in the fact that you were mine. Serves me right for letting my guard down. Even if it was for a second, I should have never given ya a moment's worth to retaliate. Now, I’m paying for it, trapped yet again, left to wonder how ya managed to pull this off. Wondering, not just how ya were able to, but also if I’m even able to keep up anymore… if I can even beat ya at all… You’ve had an answer for almost everything I had thrown at ya. And once I did get something going, you’d just cut me off at the pass, and trap me yet again, and had me wrapped up… Wondering, and despairing, and panicking, and doubting..

No...

The hold’s nearly locked into place, everything’s happening so fast the coiling of your legs around my head is a blur. I can’t see anything now except your face. Forced to stare at ya, forced.. to realize, this match has been yours - that I’m yours. I stare at your beautiful face, into those dark, determined eyes, and I feel myself drifting, just losing myself.. Your technique has been nearly flawless. Your speed, unfathomable. But your resilience, my gawd.. it's inhuman. It’s the stuff of legends. Ya fight back from the brink of oblivion, ya strike back when you’re not even fully cognizant. You're so lethal at every point of the match. Despite my peril, even as ya drag me closer to defeat, I can’t help but admire that about ya… your indomitable will, your resilience.. I can’t help but admire you. You’re not just unbreakable Rowan.. you’re unbelievable.

No.

I moan. Your shin feels like a knife at my throat, ready to slice it clean as it as ya settle your right leg beneath my chin. Your fingers coil around the back of my head, tangling in my tousled platinum hair. My left arm is trapped in the crook of that bent leg, your other leg draping over my right shoulder. I shut my eyes as I feel ya dragging my head down, pulling me closer to certain defeat, finishing up the hold to end me, to end what was a year's worth of fighting..

A year's worth of fighting, of winning, of conquering, of proving that I am still worth a damn. That I'm still good enough to fight the likes of Rowan Chance, that I could still beat someone as elite as her. My "free" hand hovers over the mat, as the last bits of air leave my body.

All that work, all that fighting, all of it-- 


NO.


I open my eyes. They glare fiercely into yours.

NOT now. I came too far to lose now, to lose like this.

I'm still here. I'm still conscious. I'm still alive. And, I'm still pissed.

You are NOT capturing the Platinum Queen this easily, Chance.

And with every ounce of breath left in me, I am gonna fight you Rowan to the end.

I am NOT gonna let ya capture me.


My body's shaking uncontrollably. My "free" right hand, it starts to rise. It rises up as ya start cinching in the Widow’s Bite, my right arm raising high in wild flailing motions. Even with your hands on the back of my head I manage to turn my body, my cheek now pushing down against your shin. I’m clawing and scraping to get to my feet, despite my head and left arm still trapped in your suffocating embrace, I still fight to rise up from my knees to get my boots planted into the canvas.

Turning and leaning toward your right side, while my right arm continues to rise up - to try to get OVER your right ankle. I’m fighting for all I’m worth now, thrashing at your legs, pushing and shoving and turning wildly. Breathlessly.

My head’s spinning, I feel nauseous, every ache and pain that batters my body is amplified in these heated moments. Every one of my actions are dictated by desperation. There ain't no turning back now - I must get my arm over your leg.

I’m extending my arm as far as it can possibly go, all so that it can drape over that shin. If I can just get it over, then I’ll be able to push up on my feet, and flip/roll over your body, escape your Bite and maybe even get a pin outta it.

If I can get my arm up and over.

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: Rowan Chance on April 23, 2018, 03:29:07 AM

The announcer screams into his microphone:

"Rowan Chance has the Widow's Kiss cinched in! Tiffany is fading! The Platinum Blonde Bomber is going limp! Is this the end of the match? Will Rowan put Tiffany to sleep?"

He's right. I've got the move on you so tight, there's almost no air between us. You look down as I pull your face closer...and closer...and you see that dark light in my eyes. You know what's happening.

I'm stealing your breath.

With your throat crushing against my shin, there's no way to breathe. And as your eyes start to bulge and your lips turn from bright red to pale blue, your face changing from that perfect tan to something more like a red cloth that's been through the dryer too many times, I keep pulling. Another inch. Another inch.

I'm stealing your blood.

The gogoplata does more than just cut the oxygen off to your brain. It also makes all that blood rushing into and out of your brain just...stop. You feel that pain in your skull, Tiff? That's blood stuck inside your skull, desperate to get out and desperate to get in. And it's just sitting there. Stagnating. Filling up your head with oxygen deprived blood.

And now...as you struggle to get your arm out of the hold...

...as you feel your legs tingling...

...as you feel your feet and fingers going numb...

...as your arms are as heavy as tractor tires...

...I pull you closer...

...and closer...

...and just as I feel you about to sneak your arm out...

...just then...

...I pull your face in to mine...

...close enough that our lips brush against each other...

...and with a wicked grin on my face...

...I bite your lower lip, so softly...

...run my tongue across your pale blue lips...

...and show you exactly why I call this move...

...the Widow's Kiss.

My teeth...
My tongue...
My lips...
All made into weapons with my sexfight training...
And I use them...
And moan deep into your mouth...
Whispering your name...
As I pull you in to oblivion.

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: BustyTiffany35 on April 26, 2018, 10:12:01 AM

My fingers graze the back of that tall Dominatrix-style boot, nails feverishly clawing along the smooth leather. It's taking everything that's left in me, and then some, to do this. My arm feels like deadweight, fingers are going numb. Both my boots are planted beneath me but I'm still crouched over ya, a dull ache starting to resonate in my lower back from being stuck in this position. My other trapped arm is curled along your tummy, my throat is crushed. My eyes glare fiercely into yours but that fire is starting to dim. I'm almost completely drained of breath, of energy, of willpower.. but I'm almost there, my arm is nearly free. It's almost up and over, just a lil' more--

You kiss me.

Ya pull my face in close. Your mouth brushes against mine. I can feel your teeth sinking into my lower lip, can taste your hot, wet tongue. I hear ya whispering my name, moaning it into my mouth as ya kiss me. I freeze, I go completely still, and for a split-second, I don't struggle. I don't fight at all, I don't do anything but stay there in your tight grasp and allow your sweet lips to kiss mine. My head just swirls with shameful excitement, the abrupt lash of lustful heat surging through my rattled mind and trapped body. All the pain dissipates as well, all I feel.. is this kiss. This moment. I've wanted ya for so long Rowan, ya don't even understand.. and now, you have me.

I slump down onto my knees. My eyes shut tight. My arm just hangs there, against your left foot. My upper body sags against your legs, my throat now agonizingly sealed tight. I start to wince, start to shake. Whatever air is left in me, this sensual, sinful kiss has stolen it away.

And I kiss ya back.

It’s like stepping into an oasis after wandering for ages through the vast, cruel wasteland. It's water to a woman dying of thirst, food to a starving animal, attention to a crying child. Your kiss, it’s what I need, it’s what I want, more so than air, than freedom. My body’s on the brink of total collapse, I could black out at any second now. And, despite all that, I choose to return your kiss, I push my lips back eagerly into yours, desperate to taste more. I sink into ya, fall into ya, Your teeth, your tongue, your lips, I feel em' all at once, assaulting me sensually, driving me wild. I hear my name carried on the wave of your torrent moans, your fingers in my hair, dragging me closer into oblivion.

And for that brief moment, I want oblivion. I want ya to drag me into that darkness. I want to fall, I want to be captured, I want to be bound and helpless in your embrace, be taken and ravished and conquered. I want to be yours.

But Ro, baby..



I want you more.



As good, as fucking wonderful as kissing Rowan Chance is.. I also can't breathe. I'm still trapped. It still hurts to be locked up in the Widow's Kiss, and I need to escape this. I need to break out. I need to breathe. I need to take you, Rowan. I need to fight. I need to get back to work.

My fingers are tingling, but I can still move em'. They start to stir, start claw again at your ankle. My hand starts to twitch, rubbing anxiously at your boot. My arm begins to shake at your leg, brushing into it, desperate to pass up and over once more. I come alive, awakening to renew the struggle. What was once lustful, gasping moans but a second ago are now deep, throaty growls. I kiss ya back hungrily, madly, lustily, but my body now shakes against your legs, my head is pulling away, pulling back from your dragging hands, and my arm --

It gets over your leg.

Hard part's done. Now..

I devote every last bit of air left in me into my next course of action. Fuelled by sheer willpower alone, I coil my arm as tight as I can around that leg now and at the same moment, I try and yank my other trapped arm out from between your legs. My arms feel so heavy, exhaustion and fatigue have almost entirely settled in. But I push through it, I have to.  With a desperate steely focus, I peel my lips from yours - dear GAWD it feels so good to breathe again! - and frantically I get to my feet, but still crouched over ya. Then, I try to dip my face forward, ducking my head to push my body against ya, so that I can roll over ya, hooking your legs up, attempting a sloppy but hopefully effective Jacknife Pin!

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: Rowan Chance on April 26, 2018, 05:33:47 PM

Bitch.

Broke.

My hold.

I'm laying there, shoulders down, you on top of me, all that weight, and I hear the referee count...

"ONE!"




Bitch.

Broke.

My hold.

Nobody...nobody...except fucking Pun...no. Don't say the name. Never say the name again. Not ever. She wrecked me. Took everything I had and kept going. Broke my back with her fucking wife's finisher. Her fucking slut whore bitch wife with the cute British accent and the tattoos and I bet they're in that big fucking house right now fucking each other senseless and...

"TWO!"



Bitch.

Broke.

My hold.

No. She didn't take everything I had. I had one last trick left. One last move. And if I got that off, she wouldn't have been getting up for a long, long time. I...

Did the referee just count tw--

I see the hand falling faster than a star. Nearly down on the mat. An inch away.

That's when I twist my hips and shoulders and toss your sloppy ass pin off me and the referee raises two fingers and the announcers say something about "Two and nine tenths!" or some lame ass shit.



Bitch.

Broke.

My hold.

You broke the Widow's Kiss, Tiffany. I was going to finish you off mercifully. A sweet little trip to dreamland, complete with kisses.

But you didn't want that.

Oh, no. No more Ms. Nice Rowan.

I see you struggling on the mat after my kickout. Holding on to your throat. Your face bright red. You can barely feel your fingers and toes right now, I bet. Well, you're not going to feel anything ever again, babe.

Because you.

Broke.

My hold.

Nobody humiliates me like that and gets away with it Tiffany. Not you. Not her. Not anyone.

I push myself up to my feet, my guts still aching from that punch. I try to hide the pain, but it's like I swallowed a dozen razor blades.

I grab your hair.

Tug hard and lift you up.

Put your face next to mine.

I whisper, "Hope your neck is as strong as that punch, bitch."

Then, I hook my left arm around your neck, hook my right arm under your left arm, and grab hold of my wrist. A simple front face lock.

I had one more trick for...her. And I almost pulled it off. But I was weak, and my back failed me.

It's not going to fail me this time.

This isn't a standard DDT, Tiffany. This is a DDT I designed after watching years of Jake Roberts perform the move. After months of being forced to do nothing but DDTs. I used it once in Japan. Just once. And it broke the girl's neck.

I almost pulled this off on... her. But I was weak.

I'm not weak now, Tiff.

Step one: Pull you up off your feet using your neck as leverage.

Step two: Twist your body around so that neck of yours gets all jacked into directions it wasn't supposed to move.

Step three: Drop down hard so the impact of your skull travels through that neck of yours and straight down your spine.

That's the plan. And if I pull it off...

...you'd better have a strong neck.

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: BustyTiffany35 on April 27, 2018, 05:46:45 PM

"Owf."

I land bodily onto the canvas after ya dash that shoulder up and break my Jacknife Pin, though it wasn't entirely surprising that ya did. I didn't reinforce the pin, didn't clutch your legs as tightly as I would if I was fresh and lively, I just rolled my back into your face and upper body and laid there on top of ya. The important thing was escaping the Widow's Kiss.

As I slump onto the mat beside ya, I roll onto my side, coughing and gasping for air. I'm clutching my throat, my body trembling as I suck in air in long, labored breaths. My chest heaves against my tight lycra corset as my lungs fill up with oxygen, but I'm still disoriented with my head feeling as if its spiralling wildly without end. I can feel how red my cheeks are, my eyes blurred with tears, my platinum mane a big tousled mess and the rest of my battered body just laying there on the mat, unresponsive to my feverishly wild mind.

I escaped your hold, a move that no one has been able to break out of. Well, almost everyone.. amongst the flashes of panic and desperate planning that assaulted my mind, one image kept popping up in my head. An image from that bloody match that took place in Paris, an image of a woman I adore and love so damn much breaking outta the Kiss herself with a deadlift-esque powerbomb. That gave me an idea of how to break free while I struggled in your grasp, but I just didn't have the energy to pull that off. Too much air was cut off from me and I didn't have the strength to lift ya at the moment - hell, I barely had the strength to complete that jackknife pin. I broke out of the Widow's Kiss another way, showed the world y'all can do it a different way. But at what cost? I can barely move right now, and my head won't stop throbbing..

Ya grab my hair. Gawd, you're already on me.. You're giving me zero chance to breathe, to try and catch my breath and get my second wind. Ya wanna dominate me, you want to conquer me, want to capture me - and by the way you're sinking your fingers so viciously into my hair, it seems pretty obvious that ya wanna end me. I wince, and moan as ya manage to drag me up onto unstable feet. I gaze sheepishly at ya, my eyes glossed over. Yours are filled with darkness, with anger, with vile, wicked intent. You're pissed, and I'm helpless in your hands. I shudder.

Ya pull my face in close to yours yet again and a part of me hopes that ya go for another kiss.. I'm still tingling all over from the one we shared a moment ago. Though, that tingling is probably due to the severe air-deprivation..

Ya whisper something cruel and ominous into my ear and it sends such a chill down my spine. Your words actually cause the throbbing in my skull to stop, only for a few sweet moments, as I really concentrate on what ya said, and what ya may have in store for me.

My neck...oh, fuck.

No more Ms. Nice Chance, it seems. Within seconds ya have me wrapped up in a tight front-face lock. But, there's something different.. the way you're torquing the hold, leaning down onto my neck, tightening your arms around me.. this ain't no regular DDT you're going for, Lady. Ya got something far worse, far more vicious in mind.

I'm only now starting to get my wits about me, my body's finally beginning to respond. Terrible timing, now that you've got me wrapped up tight and bent over, ready to execute whatever sick move ya got planned for me.

I glance up through the crook of your arm wrapped around my neck, through the curtain of silver platinum bangs that drape over my wearied eyes. I see the corner turnbuckles are just a few steps behind ya. My mind's working on overdrive now, formulating a plan of my own. Gotta move fast, gotta move now.

Move your ass, Tiff - move HER ass!

You're getting ready to hit this deadly DDT.

Here goes.

I fire an uppercut right up into your stomach, delivered from my right hand. It slices at an angle, rushing up speedily, knuckles aiming to drill right in there.

I hope it lands, hope it hits ya hard, hope it strikes ya hard enough to stop ya in your tracks.

Because if that distraction will pay off, I can start pumping my feet into the canvas, pushing my shoulder into your tummy, all in an attempt to RAM ya into that corner just a few feet behind your pretty ass.

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: Rowan Chance on April 27, 2018, 09:32:43 PM

I'm ready to spike your head into the mat, to crunch your spine like a beer can, to end this match once and for--

--a sledgehammer hits my stomach, knocking my feet right off the mat. My body bends over, my arms losing their grip on your neck and arm.

...and I taste copper in the back of my throat...

I said before my stomach felt as if I had swallowed a box of razors. That punch just sent every single one of those razors into a wild dance, slicing and cutting with every move.

I was worried about my back...and now I have to worry about my belly. And I have to--

--you lift my body and shove me into the corner. My body bends backward, my back arching, my eyes closed. Your shoulder into my abdomen, making all those razors dance again. This time, I don't just taste the copper in the back of my throat, but taste it on my tongue.

I'm dazed. Can't focus. My arms limp over your shoulders. You're holding me up in the corner. Otherwise, I'd be falling right down on my ass.

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: BustyTiffany35 on April 28, 2018, 10:23:01 PM

I feel your midsection just crumble around my surging fist. Your body folds up as I uppercut ya, and I feel your grip on my neck and arm loosening. I struck ya so hard your feet even leave the canvas for a moment. If only I wasn't on the defensive, fighting from the bottom - had I hit ya at full strength, fully in control of my actions and not acting outta desperation, I probably would have broken ya in half..

This'll have to do. Gotta get ya while you're reeling..

I punch ya so hard it stops ya from spiking my head into the canvas with what feels like a more devastating version of the DDT, and instead, you're left reeling, wavering on unsteady feet. I feel your arms now drape over my back and I know now that the first step of MY plan has been set in motion - now, to get me in motion.

Can't let ya breathe.. can't let ya get a second wind..have to stay on ya..

So I can do the next step. I PLOW my shoulder into your pained stomach, pushing and shoving ya back until you've SLAMMED into those turnbuckles behind ya. I hear ya gasp out, a sound that's more sweeter to my ears than your moans as ya whispered my name into my mouth only a few moments ago.

Have to.. finish you, Rowan..

You're leaning heavily against me as I start to straighten myself up. My hands travel up your reeling, slumped figure, gliding up along your smooth curves until they reach your face. My hands hold your face up, so that I stare at ya, and really look at ya. Confusion, frustration, and pain mar that beautiful face. I cup your cheeks in both my hands, making you look up at me now. Making you show me the dazedness, the uncertainty in those beautiful dark eyes. Making ya look at the slow smile that curves my mouth. It's still swollen from where ya bit it earlier. I tilt my head forward, so only a soft breath separates our lips. 

"My neck is as strong," I purr at ya dreamily, before I lean forward and kiss those perfect lips. I know we've been beating each other up and torturing each other for twenty minutes now.. but gawd damn, I like kissing you..

".. and sugah. The Flatliner is even stronger.."

I step back, hands sliding from your cheeks to grab the back of your neck. I pull ya outta the corner, you're still leaning heavily on me. I let go of your hands when we reach the center of the ring. Slip my fingers free of your neck, duck down into a half-squat, turn to the right. Your weight drapes over my shoulders rather easily. I take a deep, strained breath - my throat's still bothering me, but I can manage - and I push up with my legs, hoisting ya up into the air. My right hand snakes around the back of your head/neck, clutching ya tight, my other hand grabs at your smooth, toned thigh. I take a step around, holding your prone body across my shoulders, readying myself to finish ya off.

The noise of the Viceroy amplifies, rising excitedly. The fans know what's coming. I'm gonna plant ya with the Flatliner. The Platinum Queen is going to claim another victory tonight. Possibly the sweetest victory of em' all.

I push ya up into the air. Your body floats over my head. I push your legs to the side, make ya swivel around above me. Then, in one swift motion - I catch your neck and chest with my right arm, your legs shoot up into the air beside me, your back is now facing the canvas!

I drop forward. Fast.

I plant ya into the ground. Hard.

The fans erupt in deafening applause.

The ring thunders upon impact - your body is DRILLED into the rigid canvas!

I hit ya so hard with the Flatliner that even I landed roughly myself. Both my knees slammed stiffly into the mat, my breasts flattened upon impact, my lips smacked off the boards, causing me to bounce away from ya and land on my back beside ya. I lay there for the moment, staring up into the lights of the Viceroy, feeling every bruise and bump and ache, every scratch, every sore, every strained muscle. I glance over at ya with a gasp of air - I can only imagine how hard you took the fall.

Groggily, I will my body to turn over. I slump my arm across your chest, and pull my aching, battered body over yours. From the corner of my eye, I see the ref sliding into position, I can see the fans all around us at ringside, all the excited expressions written across their faces - but its your face that I'm concerned with.

It's all I look at as I lay atop ya.


"ONE!"


That beautiful face, frozen in anguish, unmoving. Eyes shut, lips trembling.



"TWO!"



The "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance..



"You're all mine, now.."

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: Rowan Chance on May 04, 2018, 06:47:55 PM

I've never been in a tornado, but once, on vacation in Florida, I was caught in the undertow.

I got swept up, spun around, thrown deep under the water. So deep, I didn't know if I could reach the surface before I ran out of breath. I got hit in the chest by a blast of fast moving water, knocking the wind out of me, as it spun me around. I tumbled and turned and started to panic. I was sure, right then and there, that I was going to die. And I was only nine years old.

As I feel the momentum of movement and the impact on the canvas, I remember that feeling. Completely out of control. My movement determined by something other than myself. And as my body plummets toward the canvas, a small part of me remembers that vacation in Florida. For just a moment. Because then, my body hits the canvas.

Kenny King likes to call this move "the Royal Flush." It takes a ton of strength to pull this off. Unfortunately, Tiff's got plenty of strength. More than King, I suspect. And that makes this whole experience that much more unpleasant.

It's like a spinning back breaker that stars on Tiff's shoulders. Except she doesn't use her knee, she just slams me down onto the canvas. Spine first.

And that's when everything just shuts down.

When my body hits, my legs are high in the air, my back and shoulders hitting hard. My arms fall flat to my sides. There's a flash of white in my eyes as they glaze over. And a flash of red hot pain just under that almost invisible scar at the base of my spine.

My legs fall numb down to the canvas. One bent, the other straight out, making a kind of "4" shape. My arms straight out. I try to scream, but nothing happens. Nothing at all. I can't move. I can't breathe. I can't do anything.

It's a long three seconds before you finally throw that gorgeous body over me. I barely notice. If you had covered me, this would be over by now. And your sloppy cover...If I was conscious, I'd be insulted.

"ONE!"

"TWO!"





Somehow...

...not of my own will or volition...

...my arm jolts up into the air.



But my eyes are still glazed over. And my toes and tingling. And I'm not even completely there.

My glass-eyed gaze is on the referee. She stands up and throws two fingers into the air.

You broke my hold. I kicked out of your finisher.

But I know I can't do that again. Fuck, I don't even know if I can walk back to the locker room.

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: RedEnforcer on May 04, 2018, 08:29:12 PM

I've been watching quietly with mixed emotions. It's always fun seeing Rowan in action, but is she really ready for this? I've been keeping an eye on Tiffany the past few months as she's been tearing it up and I have to admit, she's been building momentum and putting in serious time to sharpen her skills.

It's one of the reasons why I'm here. I could tell that Tiffany was preparing for something big. For a message type match. A signature event that would leave people talking for years in much the same way people mention Steamboat/Savage or Hell in the Cell Mankind/Taker. When I heard it was going to be Rowan squaring off, it just made sense. People like to write off Tiffany because of her looks and her...tastes. But they don't understand how much work she puts in or how even in a loss, she really shines. Her going after Rowan is really her going after the other side of the coin. Both woman, very sensual and highly regarded for their beauty.  But one really seen as talented and the other not getting the respect she deserves.

Tiffany's not here to play. She made that obvious. Breaking the Widow's Kiss takes as much mental toughness as it does physical. And now that Tiffany is in control, she's showing everyone just how physical she can get.

Rowan...Tiffany seems to have sparked something in Rowan. She was more aggressive in the beginning, yes, but now it looks even more like this isn't the Rowan we've come to appreciate through the years. This is Rowan with a killer instinct. Less restrained. Giving into her feelings and letting loose. Breaking the Widow's Kiss was a big deal for Tiffany, but bigger for Rowan. Because now it looks like Rowan wants to take serious revenge out on Tiffany.

Until Tiffany got her hands on Rowan. Tiffany imposed her strength on Rowan. If not for the fact that Tiffany took too long to cover Rowan and did so very sloppily, this match would be over. Rowan's insides have to be a mess with all the punishment she's taken. And yet here we are, with Tiffany and Rowan lying side by side, having come at each other like two SUV's slamming into each other in head to head collisions again and again.

I sit there with my hands balled into fists on my knees. Once again having to watch Rowan being taken to her physical limits. This time, that journey being a lot shorter due to the effects from last time still being felt.

Right now, I'm not cheering for either to win. I just would very much like for both to survive.

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: BustyTiffany35 on May 05, 2018, 08:09:55 PM

Somehow.

Somehow.


The Unbreakable, the Unbelievable.


Some fuckin' how.


She somehow managed to kick out.


How. HOW. HOW the FUCK!?!


I'm on my knees now, kneeling beside ya, staring down in disbelief. My eyes as wide as saucers, mouth agape, shocked to my very core. I'm staring at ya as ya lay there on your side after you've shot that arm up to lift your shoulder from the mat. To break the count, to kick outta my finisher.

No one's been able to do that in a long, long time.

When I hit the Flatliner, bitches stay down. They don't get up, they don't fight back, they don't get their shoulders up at the last fuckin' second. It's such an impactful move, a real finisher, capable of knockin' ya out long enough to get the pin. Three seconds is all ya need to secure a win and the Flatliner promises at least 60.

But you.. you broke the pin. Ya broke the pin, ya kicked outta my finisher.

How dare ya, Chance. How fuckin' dare you. 

She kicked outta my finisher, this bitch, kicked outta the Flatliner.

No one, no one, NO GAWD DAMN ONE can kick outta this-- well, Punky did, once.

If I wasn't so shocked at the moment, I'd probably smile at that.

No, NO NO this ain't fuckin' RIGHT! NO! NO, no....gawd, no.

Too shocked to smile, too shocked to move, to think. Too shocked to even feel properly enraged that this sexy bitch managed to kick out. Too shocked to do fuckin' anything. I just kneel there and stare at ya in complete and utter devastation, my heart feeling like a rusted anchor sinking to the depths of my stomach, an unsettling numbness that isn't caused by air-deprivation now blanketing my very soul.

That was my best shot.

I look at ya closely, just laying there, breathing heavily, barely aware of what's going on. How could ya even move after that shot... you were down, you were fuckin' out. I saw it on your fuckin' beautiful face, Rowan. There was no lights on cause I smashed em' all out with that one, glorious shot. How, how are ya doing this.. a Valkyrie should be here right this instant, ready to take your strong, fierce spirit up to Valhalla. But you kicked out. Did ya even know ya kicked out, Chance? Was that instinct as well?

Your dark, beautiful eyes are glazed over, your body still trembling in lil' spasms from the crushing impact of my finisher. Your back is probably on fire right about now, sheer twisted agony rattling your spine. A frown curves my lips as I stare at ya. I really didn't want to attack your back, Rowan. But I had no choice. Breaking outta the Widow's Kiss took a serious strain on me, physically and mentally. Hitting ya with the Flatliner took even more outta me. This match has gone from playing catch-up to a desperate race to the finish. The Flatliner was my best shot at ending it.

And it just, wasn't enough..,

That dreadful feeling in the pit of your gut when ya know the worst is about to happen? Yeah, that's all I'm feeling right now. I stare blankly at ya, the question of how ya kicked out shifting quickly to a question of how the hell am I gonna beat ya?

It wasn't enough.. I'm not enough..

The crowd is buzzing. They're in disbelief as well. All eyes are on us and I just can't keep my eyes off of ya, Ro. Then, my gaze slowly drifts down over your back. I shut my eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. I didn't wanna target your back, I didn't want to. But.

No.. I know exactly how I'm gonna beat ya.

My fingers reach out and sink into your hair, as I start to finally move. Slowly, pulling myself onto my feet, I drag your limp, luscious body up along with me until you're standing as well. I keep ya close as I let go of your hair, and ya sway. Your legs are rubbery and unbalanced, I'm all that's holding ya up, keeping ya from falling back into the canvas. You're in pain, a lot of it, stunned and suffering. But every second spent NOT beating ya up is giving ya time to recover. And ya recover insanely fast. I've really run outta options - any other move I try to pull on ya may result in a counter, in a reversal of some sort. I can't give ya an opportunity to strike back, I have to finish ya, now. Right now.

I MUST put ya back into the ground..

My hands slide along your waist as ya press yourself against me. Your eyes are still glazed, lost and uncertain. Our foreheads bump together, I lower my face just enough so my lips brush against yours. "You're not.. gettin', back up, sugah," I whisper to ya. My voice is silky, sounding almost like a purr,  "I ain't.. letting.. ya go, Rowan.."

We probably look more like two lovers enjoying a quiet slow dance in the midst of some dark club right about now, but the moment is fleeting. I lower myself, bend my knees, turn to the right, let your body drape itself over my shoulders, and with a strained breath I lift ya back up into the air. A hand over the back of your head, my other hand at your thigh. Getting ready to put ya back into the ground, once more, one more time.

One more Flatliner.

One wasn't enough.

I push on your thigh, turn swiftly, throw ya up and over--

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: Rowan Chance on May 07, 2018, 03:17:16 AM

I don't know what celestial or diabolical power put my arm up, but it wasn't me. And laying there, every single ounce of my body wracked with agony, that same arm just drops back down to the canvas, limp and devoid of life. My body lies shattered by your Flatliner. Flat on the mat.

Everything hurts. Everything. Dropping that hard and that fast with deliberate malice...I haven't felt this bad since...

No. Forget HER. She's not here.

But that Flatliner was...like one of Red's powerbombs...deliberate and malicious. And...hot. I can't deny it. Being held up on her shoulders, so helpless, and thrown around like a goddamn doll...

Stop. Focus. Get your head back in this. Don't ignore the pain. Let it wash over you. Let it remind you of who you are. Of what you can do. Let it...


Your hands in my hair...lifting me...up onto your shoulders again...

...and part of me...wants it. Part of me wants it, Tiff. Wants to be lifted...thrown...be sent down to the canvas to be punished for my...

...up in the air...twisting...ready to fall...

...and my body moves.

In midair, my left arm hooks around your head, my right arm hooks under your left arm. Locking my wrist in place. Twisting my hips. Trying to pull you off your feet and your head into the canvas.

Yeah...that DDT. But it's all instinct. I don't know if this is going to work. But it's the last chance I've got.

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: BustyTiffany35 on May 08, 2018, 08:35:33 PM

Darkness.



Sometimes, somethings can hit ya so hard, so fast, ya wouldn't even know ya were hit to begin with. One minute, you're on your feet and on top of the world. The next minute, you're flat on your back, wondering what the hell just happened?

A second ago, I was about to drive one of the toughest gals I've ever tangled with straight through the ring. Now, I'm flat on my back, staring up at the lights of the Viceroy. There's this intense ringing in my ears. My head feels like it's been caved in, throbbing horribly. My neck feels a lil' funny. It's hard to move right now, my arms and legs feel heavier. They're almost completely unresponsive too, deadweight, like someone shackled them to the canvas weighing the rest of my body down. There's this, tingling sensation running through my hands and feet. I blink once, twice, and suddenly my lids feel heavy as well. I try to lift my head, only it falls to the mat with a bit of a thud. I can only hear my breathing now, quick gasping breaths that block out all the other noises of the Viceroy that rage around us. My brain is fogged, mind cluttered with the kind of numbness that you'd swim through after waking from a long, long sleep. And as I lay there, broken, battered, I slowly recap the last few moments leading up to me flashing out and going blank..

I had her.

She was up on my shoulders, ready to be flung through the air and driven coldly and violently into the canvas for a second time. I remember her weight across my shoulders, feeling her smooth thigh in one hand, her dark silky hair in the other. I stood there for a few moments and just, savored the feel, the incredible rush of having her in such a helpless state. Dominating Rowan Chance like this, being the one that's in full control of the Unbreakable One sent such a thrill down my spine. I was ready to conquer her, definitively.

I push on your thigh, tossing ya up and over my head.

I turn sharply, moving along with the spin of your body, readying myself to catch your chest/neck as your feet sweep up into the air so that I can drill ya back into the boards down below.

The first Flatliner really hurt ya, Rowan. There ain't no way you'll be getting up after a second one. Ain't no way you'll be moving at all after a second Flatliner.

You're up in the air. Twisting. Helplessly spinning about. All I have to do is catch ya, and it's all over.

I catch ya, allowing your chest to drape over my waiting arm.

I snap forward, ready to slam ya into the ground.

But your left arm - it coils around my head! Tight!

Your right arm, it slips under and hooks my left arm! H-how!?

All in mid-air, in mid-move.

I can't stop her. Can't break her hold on me. She picked the absolute best time to get me, found me at my most vulnerable state. At the very last second, she struck, she attacked, and flipped my entire world on me. Can't believe this.

I go down. Hard. The force I was putting into the second Flatliner, it would have knocked her out. Instead, she used that momentum, used it for her, used it against me. And I ended up getting planted, planted so viciously, so destructively, the boards beneath my head rumble with fury. My head just impacts the canvas and all goes black.




Darkness.



So, that's what happened.


She reversed my Flatliner. Reversed it to hit another of her dreaded DDTs. I never saw it coming, never expected it to. But she did it, she managed. Somehow, someway, she hit me with something so damn hard I never even thought about it ever happening..

I'm flat on my back, staring up at the lights of the Viceroy. I must have gone out like a switch the second my head crashed into the floor. I don't even remember my feet leaving the canvas, legs thrusted up into the air at the behest of Rowan's surprise DDT. All that momentum I used to swing her off my shoulders, all that pressure she applied when she cranked in her hold over my head, neck and arm - it actually made my entire body fly forward, into the ground, as she drilled my head into the canvas. And after impacting the canvas, I flipped, over her. I landed flat on my back, in a dazed, brutalized heap. Long, agonizing moments slip by as I lay breathless and stunned, badly hurt, unable to move. Now, here I lay, flat on my back, staring up at those lights.


I had her.


No, I thought I had her.


Like the majority of this fight, just when I thought I had her, Rowan would surprise me. She's make a comeback, a counter, a reversal from outta nowhere. She'd surprise me in the most violent, the most shocking, the most exquisite ways possible. She'd catch me, trap me, take me..


I never had her..


I shut my eyes.


She had me from the start.




Darkness.

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: Rowan Chance on May 08, 2018, 10:55:40 PM

Landing on my back wasn't smart. I feel the electric jolt up and down my spine and I bite my lip to keep from screaming. But as hard as I land, you land harder.

The guy who invented the move was at Comic Con. I had the chance to talk to him for about ten minutes after telling him I was using the DDT as a finisher. I said, "I hate how the WWE has turned it into a transition hold." He gave his wide grin and told me a few secrets.Probably didn't hurt there was a pretty girl asking him about ring psychology and technique. And what he told me was goddamn gold.

That's why you're not moving right now, Tiff. That's why you can't feel anything. Why your arms and legs feel like they're made of cement. Because I gave a veteran the respect he deserved and he gave me ten minutes. And those ten minutes were all I needed. Those ten minutes were all he needed to turn a transition move back into one of the most dangerous finishers in the world.

And if I had pulled this move off on HER, she wouldn't just be wearing a knee brace right now. She'd be in a wheelchair.

I don't know if you got all the impact I wanted. I had to improvise. And I wasn't under complete control of the momentum. But that doesn't matter. I just take one look at you and I know it was enough to keep you down for three seconds.

That wicked grin of mine—the other thing I learned from Jake—spreads out on my lips.

Slowly, painfully, I crawl over to you. Throw my hips over your pretty face. Lean forward over your body and grab your knee. Then, I lean all the way, arching my back until the tip of my head almost hits the mat.

And that's how I pin you, Tiff. Legs on either side of your face, leaning back so my sex is thrust right over your nose and mouth, as I hook your right leg and arch my back. And you can smell and taste the sweat and steam and sex and leather. Just lay there. Just lay there. As the referee drops down.

I feel the impact of the first count in my knees on your shoulders. "ONE!"

The pain in my spine is screaming at me, but I refuse to listen. I've got a reputation. And when you've got a reputation, it's more important than the pain.

Another jolt as the ref's hand hits the canvas. "TWO!"

Just one more second. Just one more. And it's all over.

The referee's hand goes up and starts to fall...

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: BustyTiffany35 on May 08, 2018, 11:41:26 PM

My eyes open. It's a struggle, but I managed to. And they open to darkness.

Not the cold, empty void that blanketed my mind when I was knocked out. No, the darkness I see is from having my vision totally obscured.. by pleather. Dark, black pleather pants. It completely masks my eyes and face, pressing down firmly over my mouth and nose. It feels so smooth against skin, so hot against my lips. I open my eyes a lil' wider, and take in a whiff of leather and the heat that's radiating from between your luscious legs. I realize you're sitting right on my fuckin' face, rubbing your crotch all over my lips. I can just taste your sweat.

An assault of sounds rain down on me from all angles. The canvas is shuddering, pounding loudly as something slams into it. The ringing in my ears has returned, in full force. I can hear your gasping breaths from above me somewhere. The furious roar of the crowds sound like they're shouting in tongues. I don't know if they're screaming for me to kick out or screaming obscenities at ya. I do hear a vast portion of them chanting out numbers. Numbers.. They're counting along. Counting... fuck.

You're pinning me.

It takes me but a fraction of a second to realize my body is rolled up, rather provocatively, while ya sit down on my flustered face, pinning me to the canvas. Ya even have my leg ensnared in your grasp, pulling on it tight, curling me into this helpless ball. My arms still feel like solid lead at my sides, both my feet still tingling. I can't, move.. But I have to! I must, I can't just let this fall apart now! I have to fight, have to break free. I've worked too hard, too long to get to this point! For it all to just, to just crumble like this!? No, I just won't let that happen! I just can't, i just can't.. I just can't...
 
I just can't move.

At all. I scream desperately for my shoulder to snap up, to push against your body, to kick out, to punch ya, to throw ya off of me. Something, anything! But, I just can't. Nothing's working, nothing's willing to work. I'm frozen, stuck there on the mat, pinned beneath ya with no chance of escape. My body won't budge, instead, it makes me a million apologies because it just can't move anymore, My strength is just not there, my will is depleted. That DDT really hurt me. It stung me, knocked me down for the count. My mind is fogged with pain and whatever's still alive and aware is screaming, pleading for an arm to dart up or for a leg to kick out. But my body just won't listen. I won't be able to call myself back from the brink. Not this time. Oblivion begins to wrap its inky black tendrils around me, wrapping me up and trussing me tightly in its grasp, making sure I won't escape, that I won't even move, overwhelming me in its enthralling darkness.. and I allow it to.

My eyes shut again, and I slump into the mat beneath ya. I take in one last, trembling breath, breathing in the heat of your sex as the ref's hand drops a third time to the canvas. The sound of his palm slamming into the canvas is earsplitting, 


"THREE!"



It's all over for the Platinum Queen as she lays there, just lays there, beaten, battered, conquered, and captured..

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: Rowan Chance on May 09, 2018, 09:26:00 PM

Quote from: ExperienceOverhaul on May 08, 2018, 08:47:45 PM

I commend you both for the awesome match, that's how a message board fight is done.

Thank you!

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: Rowan Chance on May 09, 2018, 10:08:59 PM

As soon as the referee counts "THREE!" I'm on the canvas, trying to breathe. All that stomach work you did has kept precious oxygen from my lungs for the better part of the night, and now, without having to worry about dodging, ducking or just sucking it up, I can lay back...and really breathe.

The boos from the crowd tell me I've done my job. I've kept them from getting what they wanted. Sure, there are a few cheers from the heel marks--all wearing my merch, of course--but they're few and far between. I just lay there for a long moment and let the ref raise my hand. On my back, right next to Tiffany...who still has not moved.

As they play my music, I eventually find my way to my feet--staggering all the way. I use the ropes to get up. The real pain hasn't started yet: that'll be in about an hour when all the adrenaline has worn off. That means I have enough time for some fun.

I limp over to my corner and grab the whip I brought with me. Remember that? And I yell at the ringboy (no goddamn way I'm calling them "Young Lions") to grab the bag I stashed under the ring before the match. He does what he's told, either because he's afraid of me or he thinks doing what he's told will win him some kind of favor. I crack the whip and the crowd goes wild: heel and face marks alike. They want to see what comes next.

Little perverts.

Though, I can't say I blame them.

The whip crack should get Tiff's attention. I put my finger across my throat, telling the sound guy to cut my music. He obliges.

That's when I open the bag and take something out. I toss it at Tiff.

It's a leather collar.

"Put it on," I say, my voice dark and poisonous. I know you can hear me, Tiff. And I've given you enough time to move.

Now do as I say...or there will be consequences.

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: BustyTiffany35 on May 10, 2018, 12:25:06 AM

*CRACK!*

I could have sworn a gunshot went off in the Viceroy. It takes me a moment to realize that wasn't a gun going off, it was a whip. Your whip.

I blink my tired eyes rapidly, opening them to the blinding lights shining up in the Viceroy's ceiling. At first, the pounding in my head feels like a jackhammer is rumbling away without supervision within my skull, but that thankfully begins to subside. The ring beneath me at first feels like its rotating on an axis, but that stops after a few moments. The rest of me feels like it's been slammed by a speeding truck, and unfortunately, that feeling doesn't seem to wanna pass anytime soon. I mentally check for any possible injuries, and manage a slight sigh of relief as it doesn't feel like I'm seriously hurt. Just plenty of aching, and throbbing, and soreness from the top of my head down to the tip of my toes. I suppose that's something to be thankful about.

I lost.

Now that I'm fully awake, it all begins to sink in. The cold, unbearable realization that I lost one of the most important matches in my career.. that I've been beaten in one of the hardest fights of my life.. starts to bleed into my mind. After an entire year's worth of beating anyone and everyone set in my path.. a whole fuckin' year.. My streak's been snapped, all that work, all that time and effort. Gone. It turns my stomach, it's suddenly really hard to breathe. Emotions of every kind begin to bubble up beneath my skin. Any physical ache or pain is quickly forgotten. Nothing seems to matter now, nothing but the shame, the devastation of losing here tonight. It's so raw, so intense, I can't help but think of anything, feel anything, but that. I lost, I failed. I truly am nothing..

Something lands on my chest.

It feels round and rigid, and a piece of it jingles as it lands atop my ample breasts. I finally move my head, wincing as my neck's still real sore and my head almost immediately continues its gruesome inner-pounding. But still, I manage to lift my head anyway, propping myself onto elbows to cast my wary eyes down onto what was tossed to me. Sitting there on my chest, is a black leather collar.

And again, all the aches and pains dissipate, fading into the background as I stare silently at this black collar. I take in a trembling breath as my mind returns to the shame that bled into soul, the shame that's suffocating me from the inside. My cheeks glow warmly and my eyes have a distant, sheepish look to them. I swallow hard, and sit up, catching the leather black collar in my hands, staring down at at it wordlessly. Breathlessly. This is familiar.  I spent a year trying to make everyone remember who the Platinum Queen was, that I myself can still go, can still fight and conquer --



And now, just look at you!

After all that work, all that time, look at you now!

Conquered.

You can't hang with any of em' anymore, you old slut!

That collar, is what you truly deserve...

Failure.

You're not good enough!

That's what you've always deserved, honey!




"Put it on." I hear ya say those words. They sound like poison, dark and commanding. Yet, there's a sensuality to it, a richness in your voice that I can't deny. Despite myself, I shudder..

I look up at ya, slowly. It's the first time I laid eyes on you since the pinfall, since you've beaten me. There's a hint of defiance in my glaring eyes, but that itself is fleeting as I look at ya. Ya stand there, so assertive and dominant, in those wicked black domme boots, brandishing that whip with sinful intent. Standing there with all the arrogance in the world over a woman you've just captured. I can't even muster up enough anger toward ya.. You, ya look so... exquisite,,

Do as she says..

I shut my eyes, trembling - no, shaking - all over. I unhook the leather collar from its metallic clasps and rise up onto my knees in front of ya. I slip it on, covering the black choker that already covers the base of my throat - a choker with a lil' skull insignia printed on the front of it - and I put on your collar, locking it tightly behind the back of my neck. Slowly, I lower my arms until they rest a lil' behind me, and continue to glare up at ya, cheeks hot red, eyes burning with shame and submission..

You're hers now, honey.

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: Rowan Chance on May 13, 2018, 04:45:40 AM

I step forward slowly, putting each foot in front of the other, crossing my long legs as I walk toward you. Whip in one hand, heavy bag in the other.

When I get close enough, I snap the whip so it curls around my waist, then I put the handle behind me and up, so it dangles over my shoulder. Reaching into the bag, with my eyes on you kneeling in front of me, I take a long, black climbing cord from the bag. Then, I let it fall with a heavy thunk.

I bend the cord until I find the halfway point, then tuck that through the little metal ring on the collar. I pull the cord through the ring while stepping behind you, my domme boots almost clicking on the canvas. And when I get behind you, I slowly tie the cord around each of your wrists, making a double column tie.

I make it tight, Tiff. Just tight enough so you can feel it, but not so tight it cuts off your circulation. Because I know what I'm doing.

Then, I tug your wrists up behind your back and kick you with my boot, sending you face down to the canvas. Then, I grab your ankles and wrap them up with the same knot. Wrapping the cord around both ankles, then pulling the cord up around the middle, hitching it up.

My little hog tied blonde bomber.

I pull you up by the hair so you're up on your knees again. And I look down into your face as I tug on those blonde tresses. My wicked grin. My shining eyes. I bite your lower lip hard. Then, I whisper,

"Who do you belong to, baby?"

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: BustyTiffany35 on May 16, 2018, 03:47:45 AM

"Who do you belong to, baby?"

I'm sinking and spiralling farther and deeper in my own shame that I barely even notice Rowan approaching. The sharp stinging snap of her whip breaks me outta my own loathing thoughts, and I raise my wary eyes to watch her sleek, snake-like whip coil around her tempestuous figure. It moves with such effortless grace, and she handles it flawlessly, it's almost as if that wicked weapon were an extension of herself. It also possesses the scream of a thunderstorm, it hollers so loudly whenever she cracks it. But that earsplitting snap of her whip ain't but a faint whisper in comparison to my own breaths that feverishly escape my quivering lips. My desperate, gasping breaths is all I can hear, repeating loudly in my ears, as I stare quietly, blushingly, at what you've pulled free from your ominous bag.

Long, black climbing rope.

I shiver.

"Ngh."

Amid my heavy breathing, I hear the soft click of your domme boots as ya start to bind me with your rope. The collar fastened around my throat, a collar that I fastened myself with little reluctance, bites into my neck as ya pass your black cord through the shiny metallic ring and drag the rope down to my wrists. It's sinfully ingenious how you're tying me, making sure that if I struggle too hard, not only would I end up strangling myself, but any tug or pull of these ropes will tug and pull on my collar. Reminding me of my place. In a matter of seconds, ya bind my hands behind me, rendering me helpless, using expert knots to truss me up into a double column tie. My breathing trembles, I arch my lower back a bit and my ample breasts push up against my skimpy silver corset. Nipples hardening, tenting the shimmering material. It may have taken ya but a few moments to tie me up, but in my mind, a hot eternity's worth of time passes. Slowly slipping into a calming reverie, I retreat into the furthest depths of my depraved thoughts as your cord caresses my skin and cinches my wrists tightly together. It's getting very, very hard to breathe.

"Ngh!"

Ya tighten the ropes. Ya make it tight enough that I flinch, I gasp out, I moan. Ya make it tight to get the message across, to brand it into my soul: I'm not going anywhere. There ain't no escape for me, now. Then, I feel your domme boot at my back, kicking me, sending me so cruelly into the canvas. The kick is enough to rip me back from subspace, and I'm just now realizing what's happening as the ring floor rushes up to meet my face.

My hands are tied behind me, so nothing prevents me from slamming into the canvas, nothing softens the rigid kiss of the ring against my face and breasts. I land on the boards chest-first before my face follows through a second later, but aside from the sharp flash of pain that bites my stiffened nipples and aching breasts and flustered face - there's really lil' pain at all. Only, humiliation. I'm being ragdolled, tossed about insolently, treated like a toy, with barely a care in the world Collared and bound, I lay there there, and softly, I whimper. It's not at all the kinda sound a warrior would make, rather it belongs to a helpless prisoner. A Queen turned captive. Your captive.

Ya bind my ankles together, tightly together, and ya cinch my bound ankles to my tied wrists. Hogtying me. My head is spinning, and I realize that I haven't taken a breath in a long while. The ropes, the bondage, the humiliation - it's causing my arousal to redline. I shudder, a lil' too hard, against the canvas.

"Mmmhp.."

The next sound that erupts from my lips ain't exactly a whimper. As ya sink your fingers deep into my big, tousled, platinum blonde hair, and drag me slowly up onto my knees, the sound that explodes from my mouth is more of a lustful, depraved moan. And as ya glare down at me, with those shiny eyes, with that wicked grin, as I kneel before ya all helplessly, hotly tied up, and collared, and beaten, with my big disheveled platinum mane and heaving ample tits barely concealed in my skimpy corset, I'm drawn back - torn back I should say - into that blissful reverie. Can barely move, barely even breathe right now.

Ya bend forward, and bite my lower lip. I shake all over, uncontrollably against my stringent, inescapable bondage.

Now, I can barely even think straight.

I'm losing my mind, losing every fuckin' bit of it to my shameful, wicked arousal. Letting myself plummet freely to the deepest reaches of my depravity, embracing your dominance, submitting to--


"You," I whisper, breathlessly, against your lips.

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: Rowan Chance on June 04, 2018, 11:24:06 PM

I hear you whisper your answer and my grin turns poisonous.

I use my pointer finger to hook the collar around your neck, pulling your face toward mine.

"Time to make the Platinum Queen humble," I whisper into your ear.

And slowly, I begin removing each piece of your gear. Your top. Your wrist bands. Even your bottoms. Until all you're wearing is your tall wrestling boots. I let you leave those on. But otherwise, you tied up and naked in the center of the ring for all the world to see. Wearing nothing but your boots and my collar. Or, should I say, your collar.

Then, I hook the collar again with my finger as the crowd whistles and shouts out to you. "Let's go mighty queen. Time for you to serve me."

And I lift you, carrying you out from the ring, down that long aisle, toward the back.

Where all the fanboys can just imagine what a woman like me is going to do to a woman like you...

Title: Re: Fight Night in LA - "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance vs "The Platinum Queen" Tiffany
Post by: BustyTiffany35 on June 30, 2018, 10:56:16 PM

That grin.. It's not so much the actual smile that shapes your smooth, kissable lips right now that sends such wicked thrills to course through my system. It's the intent behind that grin, the sinful promises that you're bound to deliver that gets me shaking in anticipation. That grin, it'll stay with me for a long, long while..

"Nnh.."

I grit my teeth as ya pull me closer to ya, your finger hooked in my collar, dragging me steamily close so that ya can purr into my ear. Gawd, that voice.. I shudder again, intensely, straining a bit in my bonds, finding it real difficult to keep hold of my breath. And then, breathlessly, helplessly, I watch as ya strip me.. piece by piece, ya remove my shiny, skimpy silver outfit, along with the other pieces of my form-fitting ring gear.. It takes a bit of work on your part, as I'm securely tied and all. Ya even start to rip and tear my clothing from my buxom, bound body and all I can do is sway on my knees and shiver in my bonds. In no time you've got me naked, save for my tall boots, my fishnet thigh-high stockings, and your collar. My collar. My face is glowing red.

The sounds in the Viceroy have heightened to a fever pitch as ya have me mostly nude for all to see. The catcalls, the whistles, the voices that were eagerly encouraging me to kick your ass earlier in our match have suddenly turned on me. They're deafening, and it all deepens the humiliation, making this moment sink deeper into my soul. My voluptuous breasts are completely bare, nipples hardened. My lean, toned abs slick with sweat, my neatly trimmed bush leading everyone's gaze down to my savory moist lips.. My big, platinum blonde is a wild tangled mess, contrasting starkly with the dark ropes that you've used to tie me up. I've lost one of the most important matches in my career, and now I kneel there in the center of the ring, bound helplessly, stripped naked, and collared, all by a ferocious, gorgeous rival.. just the way the Platinum Queen should be.. a part of me wants to just crawl into a hole and never come out.

The other part of me...well..

"Nnhh!" I groan again as ya yank by the collar, still deviously grinning. I peer sheepishly into your eyes, seeing the lust that boils in them as ya stare at me.. lust, and the power that ya have over me now.. and the promise that I will fulfill every one of your dark, devious desires tonight. I tremble in my ropes, my bare naked breasts rising and falling with every shuddering gasp.

"Oohh.." I let out the softest whimper as ya wrap your arms around me and hoist me up onto your shoulder. I hate being carried, especially like this. Especially when a slightly smaller gal is doing the carrying.. it drives me nuts, and yet, that humiliation also shamefully feeds right into my lust. Ya can feel me already shaking over your shoulder as ya prepare to leave. My disheveled platinum mane sways over your back as ya balance me over your shoulder, carrying me right outta the ring and down that long aisle. All I can do is shudder and moan over your shoulder, as ya carry me away. This is the most fitting way to deal with me now - you've dominated me throughout the match, beaten me, proved you're the better woman. You've reduced me to nothing more than a trophy, a spoil of war to be savored and ravished. The ropes seemingly tighten around my wrists and ankles, the collar feels like it's strangling me now. The humiliation is suffocating. I shut my eyes, bite my lower lip, and quiver over your shoulder..

"Mmph."

I slump over your shoulder after a hot moment, moaning warily in total, absolute submission. I tried to beat the Unbreakable Rowan Chance.. and instead, Rowan. Ya ended up capturing the Platinum Queen...


You ended up capturing me..



(Gawd, I'm sorry this took so long! I wanted to do a proper ending to this fantastic match, but life kinda got in the way. Anyway! I wanna take this moment to thank my lovely, insanely talented, and ridiculously sexy opponent, Rowan, for giving me one of my all-time favorite matches! Thank ya, sugah! You are so freakin' great!! I loved facing ya, and I'm always up to facing ya again in the future!

And I'd like to thank everyone who's been following along! Thanks for reading, I sincerely hope we entertained y'all ;) )