[Rowan Chance]

Shouting from the stands: "GREAT MINDS, RED!!!"

[Tal]

What a performance!

[Katherine The Great]

"If you're going to sell a move or hold, Katherine, always make it a million dollar sale."


Ummm....yeah, no shit Mother. Mr. Freak Show has me bent at an odd angle and the right side of my body feels like it's being torn in half. The howling screams that are being flung from my glistening lips aren't a "sell"....it's pure, unadulterated, pain.

I now realize I'm trapped in the middle of the fucking ring. There are no ropes to be had and no break to try for. I'm stuck here, shaking my head while my face contorts into a mask of pain behind a curtain of sweat soaked, stringy, blonde hair.

My right arm ratchets up higher as you re-position, a bit, and I figure you're just opening me up for more stretching....I should have known better. I should have remembered what nerve cluster lies just under the armpit. I should have remembered who I was in the ring with...a fucking twenty year veteran.

Shoulda, coulda, woulda, I think the expression goes. Not that I have all that much time to think about it before the pain lances throughout my chest and up and down my right side. Feeling like someone is taking a cattle prod to me, my body jerks and I throw my head back...howling at the hot ring lights.

Now, I'm not only contorted like a cheap pretzel, but I'm also being fed even MORE pain through the educated fingertips of Mr. Halloween Havoc.

The ref leans in, "What'cha say, Doll? Wanna give it up?"

I wearily shake my head....."Fuh....fuh....fuck....no.." I groan as my lips part. She shakes her head, "No submission!" she shouts as she steps back, many in the crowd on their feet....booing my rough treatment, a few beer bottles being flung into the ring as the audience shows their displeasure.

Trust me, I know how they feel.

[RedEnforcer]

When you have your opponent’s balls, well more likely with you tits, in a vise, you can turn the pressure up more than just physically.

I admit. I’m loving the show you’re putting on right now. I know it’s not an act, well it could be extreme method acting like gaining weight to play Al Capone or surrendering to the role like Andy Kaufman or Jim Carey as Andy.

No. Right now we are seeing the true side of the Doll. Pain has a way of stripping away the polished veneers we layer ourselves with to become presentable in society. This match has taken a lot out of us both. It’s lasted quite some time in the heat and we’ve both sweat enough that dehydration may become an issue.  You got your shots in my early. In fact if my arm wasn’t still weakened by you, my grip would be so much tighter and this match would be over.

Right now your fans and everyone else is seeing your true nature. When your back is to the wall and there’s only pain around you, your mind clears away all the distraction in your life. Your senses get heightened and that blood pumps faster.

I have you in a position that would make lesser men much less lesser women fold and give into the pain. Your body is stretched to the limit. Your suit itself may be starting to wear down from the strain. That bronzed flesh of yours is shining from the glistening sweat coating you. The blonde tresses you had done up so magnificently earlier are now flowing down your head like a badly overused mop. The moans, cries and agony issued from your lips speaks of physical pain. And when asked, you go from Bratty Blond Bombshell to tough, foul mouthed fighter.  And your fans, Dahl House regulars have come to Greensboro and are tossing their beers in the ring. I know they’re visitors because Carolinians would never waste beer like that.  But they exemplify where you are now. Backed in a corner and having to fight anyway you can.  Physically you are beaten. Now I have to break you another way.

I lean myself over and get your right arm out of my way so while I’m still cranking on the nerve pinch, our heads are temple to temple.

I turn my face around, mask scratching against your flesh as I put my forehead on your temple and face the right half of your face.

My lips brush against your earlobe, breath washing warmly over your ear and cheek.

“Is your daddy in the audience?”

“Is he watching his little girl struggle and squirm? Sweat on her skin. Her eyes almost in tears.”

“Those little sounds you make...they almost sound like...”

[ThePurpleVixen]

He's got the whooooooooole world ... IN HIS HANDS.

He's got your little tiny nerve clusters ... IN HIS HANDS!

[FightinKelly]

*throws my Perrier in disgust over The Doll getting worked over like this* "BBBBBOOOOOOOOO!" I hiss as I watch the action, "Come on Doll get back into this and kick his ass!" I shout.

(Don't take that personally Red, NOTHING against you at all. Just The Doll is my homegirl).

[Katherine The Great]

"Well, there's really no such thing as cheating, Kit-Kat, only varying degrees of....bending....the rules."


My body aches. I'm being twisted and contorted like Myrtle Beach saltwater taffy, and I'm starting to feel 'the haze'. That point in the match where, after your body starts rebelling against what you want it to do, your mind starts checking out. I shake my head, trying to fight it. Sweat just drips from my bronzed skin. My hair hangs in sweaty string in front of my face, blowing out each time I exhale. My (very expensive, I might add) suit is stained with sweat and m fishnets are ripped in a few spots.

The sad thing is....I look way better than I feel.

I let out another strangled groan as you continue working my nerve cluster. Your educated fingertips really delivering the pain as you show this crowd, most of whom are firmly behind their Doll, just why you're one of the most dangerous wrestlers on the circuit. I hear your heavy breathing almost right in my ear. Your voice like rough sandpaper over gravel. Menacing. Intimidating. Forceful. My eyelids blink heavily as you start to speak, your breath wafting over my twice pierced earlobe. I expect you to start trying to get into my head....asking for my submission....looking to tell me to scream or some other nonsense. At this point, I'm willing to do almost anything to get the pain to stop.

Then you mention Daddy and I don't hear anything else after that.

That's the problem with these "old school" wrestlers.....they talk too much.

My eyes snap open wide as you mention my trigger word. My parents may be manipulative, money grubbing, opportunists, but try to use them against me in a match and all bets are off. I let out another loud groan as my left arm, that was hanging limply at my side, slowly slides up my thick thigh, the forearm resting there as my fingers flex. As you drone on, my fingers almost seductively slide under the shiny gold of my suit at the leg hole. Yeah, I know the perverts and degenerates will probably think I'm so delirious with pain that I'm now playing with myself, but I'm going for something way more valuable at the moment.

The Packet.

"While this has to be one of the dumbest things you have ever done, Katherine", Mom said as she forced the plastic coated mixture of talcum powder and salt into my palm, "I can't let you go in there totally unprepared."

At first I sneered a 'fuck you' under my breath at her. If this works, though, I owe her a big apology.

My fingers finally find what I'm looking for (The Packet, you perverts! The Packet!) and I slowly pull it from my suit, praying my trembling fingers don't drop it to the canvas. I manage to hold onto it, trying to visualize just where your face is by your voice on my right side. I feel your sweaty material of your mask on my cheek, your lips brushing it and I take a deep breath and hold it.

Stifling a grunt, I swing my left arm up and across my body. My fingernail slicing the plastic coating of the bag as I snap my left forearm up, the hand aiming over my right shoulder as I shut my eyes tight and turn my head....hoping to open your face up to take the full blast of white stuff. (The Packet, you perverts! The Packet!)

Not sure how much, if any, you'll take but if there was ever a time I could say I'm out of options....this is it.

[RedEnforcer]

When you see a shiny red button with a sign that says "Do Not Press" it's smart to not press it.  But it isn't as much fun.

Days like this, I wish my mask had full eye coverage. That really cuts down on your peripheral vision. But it would've helped me out here with this powder/salt mixture on my face.

I have to admit, this girl is prepared.  She's been trained very well and I need to stop treating her like a rookie. Whoever's in control of her training has her running like a vet.

I know what you're thinking, surely some talcum powder and salt can't be too effective right? Well that's the mistake people make. They assume the talcum powder is just for show. It's not, it's smart. You use the mixture late in the match and it acts as a double team.  The talcum strikes first. It coats the sweaty flesh and dries it out. Then the salt hits. Without sweat to wash out the salt, it just stays where it is. Stinging your eyes until you can wash them out either with water or tears. Now, normally you could just wipe your eyes clear and in a few seconds you're good. But in this instance, the mask hinders me. Oh and did I fail to mention, salt in your eyes burns like a motherfucker.

So in the attosecond that occurred as these thoughts struck me, the pain signals finally hit my brain.  There are reflexive actions that are such an ingrained part of your nature that training just can't overcome them. They're nearly autonomic. Protecting your eyes is one of those. My left arm releases you and my left hand goes for my eyes and that proves ineffectual for reasons stated above. I'm forced to give up my grip on you to try and get both hands to get the stinging to stop. 

I uncurl from your leg and growl in pain before shooting out my right boot into where I think your bottom is.  I would like to say it was to push your body forward and give me more time to deal with my vision issues and not just spite from the pain. But I'd be lying.

I know I'm vulnerable so I try to back up as the stinging gets bad. Of course the damn ref didn't see a damn thing. I mean I have this white powdery substance all over my mask and am rubbing my eyes and growling in pain. What does she think happened? I got assaulted by a sugar donut out of nowhere?

I can feel the ropes bite into my back and I try and listen for you as the palms of my hands do their best to rub away the blindness. I know you're going to come at me.
Going to hurt me.
Going to get some measure of revenge.
Going to pull out every trick you know.

The opening moves have been made. We've tested each other's defenses.  I see what she's prepared to do and how far she wants to take this. The middlegame is up now.

And despite the pain....
Despite the frustration...

I'm smiling

[Rowan Chance]

Leaning forward so Red can see just enough down my thin black tank top, shouting to start a chant...

RED IS GONNA KILL YOU! RED IS GONNA KILL YOU!

[Katherine The Great]

"When you come across an opponent who 'likes' pain Katherine, always make sure you give them what they like."

An old wive's tale says that throwing salt over your shoulder gives good luck. Never was that more true than right now. I turn my head, close my eyes and say a quick prayer to the Wrestling Gods. My aim is, pretty much, dead on...your grunt and cursing tells me that much. It's confirmed when you release my pretzel upped body and stumble backwards. I slump over to my left side, trying to stay upright just as your boot sole meets my fishnet clad ass. I stumble forward, my left arm holding my spasming right arm as the pain lances up and down my right side. The deep nerve "tissue massage" has my whole right side throbbing and the pain runs up and down my body, a parting gift from the Man in the Mask. One thing is for sure, though, I didn't break out one of my contingencies just to go curl up and die. I need to capitalize.

I turn and see you backed up against the ropes, soaked in sweat while you try to fruitlessly rub the blinding cocktail out of your eyes. Why a pro like you doesn't have clear shields over them, I'll never know. I don't stop to ponder too long on it, though, I'm too busy hobbling over to you...a determined look on my face.

A smile on yours. Are you kidding me?

"Here fucker", I say as I get within range, "let's see how much you're smiling after THIS!" I drop to my knees and swing my left arm up between your legs, looking to nail that bulge and drive it up into your throat. If I nail it, I stand back up slowly, my left arm running up my golden boot, fingers digging into the top of it and pulling out length of gleaming, silver, chain.

"While this has to be one of the dumbest things you have ever done, Kit-Kat", Daddy said as he forced the slim, but strong, silver chain into my palm, "I can't let you go in there totally unprepared."

Thanks Daddy.

I try to keep the chain hidden as much as I can but, at this point, I'm not really caring about getting DQ'ed...I'm more interested in getting some payback on Michael Meyers here. I wrap one end of the chain around my left hand before whipping it around my right, forming a nice choker. As I stand I try to loop the chain around your throat and tug it tight. I hear a few more boos in the crowd, now, as I stoop down to your level (and probably lower) in order to bring some pain to you. I hear one crazy bitch in the crowd shouting "Red is gonna kill you!" We'll see how much she knows when I start choking the shit out of her pimp, here.

If things go my way, we'll see how long you can smile without any oxygen.

[RedEnforcer]

Oh dear Red, pain is not your enemy. Embrace it. Use it to fuel you. Stop being so soft on your opponents. And so hard on yourself. That's what I'm here for.

I hear a voice in the crowd that sounds like whiskey soaked broken glass.  Suddenly my memories of Sadie melt away and the voice takes her place.  I'd been years into my career when I met the owner of said voice. In fact, I was thinking about wrapping up my career at that point. Pushing 40 at that time takes a toll on you when you've been doing this thing for as long as I have. Moving onto full time training especially with Sadie (talk about a full time job) seemed to be the right move. But then she appeared. I still can't remember why she started touring around in the same areas. But I kept my eye on her. She had obviously had training and a passion for wrestling. But she also had 'IT', that undefinable quality that just drew your eyes to her. And she knew it. Even then, it took me months before daring to test her out. The chemistry was instant. I remembered why I loved wrestling. I lost myself in the bout and something sparked that day.

Of course it wasn't too much longer that I had one of the greatest matches in my career with her and one other. But that's a tale for another day. Rowan. I could pick her out of the Superdome full of noisy fans, or even Bourbon Street after.  One thing consistent about Rowan is that even when I would dominate opponents, she thought I was holding back. She loved to whisper taunts at me. Try to use whatever tricks she could to let me unleash the monster I have inside me. And now here she was, urging me on to just pound this newcomer into dust. I can hear that voice, smell the perfume on her olive flesh...but no.  I can't let that side of me free. It wouldn't be right.  Not many have seen the Enforcer Unchained. I don't want to do that....


"ARRRGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!"


The blow is swift, sudden and on target. 

Your flexed bicep smashing into my body. Crushing sensitive areas with cold precision. My scream is loud and immediate.

I drop to one knee.

Tears flood from my eyes, helping flush the debris away.

And I start laughing.

It's a crazed laugh. Full of spite and venom and chaos. All thoughts of this being a technical classic are completely out the window. This just became a dirty, gritty street fight.

My laugh doesn't last for long as suddenly you wrap something...metal perhaps around my throat. I know then the championship is no longer the goal here. I've hit a trigger for you by mentioning daddy and now you've got something to prove.

I can sense you standing close by me, feel the heat of your flesh near as you twist and tug and try and choke the life out of me.

Your mistake.

When your opponent is blind, you stick and move. Keep them confused. Make them wonder where you are.

I know where you are.
And you're close because you have to be.

My hands go from my throat to around your legs. Gawd my crotch is on fire again as I shift my body.

Embrace that pain. I can hear her saying.

With a grunt, I look to lift you off the mat. And I try to rise myself.  If I can just get you in the air and myself on my feet, I'm going to show you the beginning of pain.

I can't see. My groin has been injured again. My arm is weakened. I'm sweating like a madman. My oxygen is being depleted. I'm in rough shape.

So the only thing I can do now is just lift you up and run. Run quickly and carry you in my arms and run us both towards the corner.

If I can only just get up.

[FightinKelly]

"Kick his ass Dolly!" I shout as I get to my feet and clap making a clench of encouragement. *She cannot let Red to his feet, if not she is in deep shit* I think to myself.

[Katherine The Great]

"When you rack a dude and he starts laughing, Kit-Kat....it's time to run."

Ok that's not advice from my parents, that's just plain common sense. And, yes, I sometimes call myself "Kit-Kat"...don't judge me! Back to common sense. It's a good thing to follow, but not when you want payback.

And that's what I want. Payback.

My bicep flexes before I send it up to play the 'Nutcracker Suite' on your manhood. Your howl is like listening to a symphony....then comes the scratching of the needle on the record.

You laugh.

It's not a jovial laugh. It's not even a humorous laugh. It's maniacal. Insane. I should run, I know, but I don't. Instead, I grit my teeth in determination and wrap the shiny silver chain around your throat. If nothing else it stops the damn cackle that was bringing up goosebumps on my tanned and sweaty flesh. My left hand goes over your right shoulder, my right hand over your left as I move to your side and twist my body, twisting the chain tighter around your throat in the process. I grin down at your gasping face. My lips twisted in a mask of evil. I pull and twist on the chain, wanting it to bite deep into your throat and make oxygen something you have to earn.

I see your body move, your arms snapping out and looking to wrap around my thick legs. Even in this state you still have your ring senses about you while not giving into the panic that would be settling in on lesser  wrestlers. I start to move, managing to get my right leg out from your encircling arms, but you get a vice like grip on my left. The quad automatically flexes as I give it a tug, trying to get it out of your grasp, but it's no good. I grunt, trying not to forget to keep choking you with Mr. Shiny here. 

A loud grunt and you start to stand. No. Fucking. Way. I shake my head, both impressed and frustrated with you pain threshold as you start to lift me off my feet while getting onto yours. I do the only thing I can, at this point. I swing my right leg around, trying to hook it over your right shoulder before bending it and trying to hook my round, golden booted calve right under your chin. Looking to sit on your shoulder and hook my right boot under my left leg, if there's enough room, I lean back and pull harder on Mr. Shiny, trying to use my newfound leverage to really make your white caked eyes bug out.

"Night, night, Freakshow!!" I growl, my breasts framed by my flexed biceps as I lean back and try to really pour on the pressure.

Daddy, if you're out there, now is the time to snap the pic for the next promo tour.

[RedEnforcer]

I've got you, little Monster. I've got you. And nothing is going to save you.

Those words ring out in my mind as my plans get foiled by you. I get one of your legs, but like a certain slithery serpent goddess, you slide just out of my total control. 

You mount my shoulder as I rise and swing your right leg around looking a bit like a sidesaddle horsewoman who has decided to ride an ox.  I've had women clamber over me before, but only a few with as deadly of intentions as this young blonde bombshell.

I can feel her powerful legs on me, one in my grip, immobilized. Not a threat.

The other, moving about my chest then up to my neck to wrap around. Powerful thigh and strong calf flexing against my head. Still partially blinded, I can feel how you're perched on my shoulder. I'm sure it's a very entertaining, exciting sight.

The chain tightens on my neck and I feel the metal biting. My oxygen is being deprived and I'm sure your upper body is straining hard to put this level of pressure on me.

So why did those words pop in my head?

That was a time when a different sensuous fighter had me in a terrible position. I solved that problem with pure brute strength.  Unfortunately, this brat riding semi piggyback on me isn't cooperating so the same counter won't work.  But I feel her shift. I can feel how she's riding my shoulder. And I'm going to use that.

I grip her leg tighter to try and keep her in place even as she is focused on choking me out.  The boos and cheers are beginning to sound muddy as the loss of air becomes more pronounced.

Now or never then.

I bend my knees, tense my legs and jump.

Yes, jump. Straight up in the air. I jostle my unwanted passenger a bit.

And then I drop. But not to my feet.

Right down onto my ass.

Now this hurts me. It sends a serious shock up my spine.

However it also causes my shoulders to drive straight up with some serious force. 

The left shoulder and arm flop about.

The right shoulder?

Well it drives upward and transfers some serious force into whatever it strikes.

Not last time. Not this time.

I'm far from done.

[Katherine The Great]

"Always remember, Kit-Kat, the most overlooked part of the ring is.....gravity."

It's like riding a masked, Brahma bull.....only a Brahma would have a sunnier disposition. I tug back hard, the glimmering chain biting into my hands almost as much as it's biting into your throat. I lean back, counting on my thick, coiled, leg for support. This would be a prime position if I had my left leg free, but..."We do with what we have, Katherine."

Blah, blah, blah.

My biceps rounding as I not only tug the ends of the chain outwards, but up, as well. Sweat pouring off me from the effort and, once again, my eyes go wide as you show not only your strength, but your resolve. You start to rise, getting a good way up before I can react so I'm forced to just go along for the ride. I shake stringy hair from my face as you stand, the jump.....carrying my 130lbs of golden curves with you. We drop and I get that sinking feeling in the pit of my gut. It really is like they say..."It's not the fall that gets you, it's that sudden stop at the end that does the damage."

This is no exception. You drop your ass to the boards, shaking the ropes as well as your spinal cord and mine. Had I not had my hips pivoted up, just a bit, it could have been a very uncomfy landing for me. As it is, pain shoots up and out from my spinal cord and I scream up towards the lights as I crane my head up. My coiled right leg falls from across your throat and I drop off your shoulder and to the boards below....thankful that I had the presence of mind to take the chain with me.

The bad news: The impact to my spine has sent pain tendrils through most of my body and my legs feel like I've just gotten up after sitting on them for days.

The good news: You just dropped 130lbs of California Doll onto your already damaged right shoulder.

Well, it's good news for me.