More Than a Match by Rival’s Rapture

More Than a Match


So, this is a part of the When Life Starts series (Chapters 1,2,3 are the preceding tales) though it is not one of the main chapters. I intend on doing more with both Jenn and Kat, as a pairing and apart, as well as the rest of my own little pro-universe of the WWN.

But as for this match in particular. In my time on FCF I fell in love with a certain pairing that I knew I wanted to bring to life for all of you. That being Jennifer and one of my close friends on that board. I always found myself transfixed by the two together, and desperately wanted to write a story that spoke of them locked in a contest and thereafter a relationship unlike any other.

This is the beginning of that tale.

The Women’s Wrestling Network’s training facility was going to be like Chavo (Guerrero)’s gym, Jennifer assumed. Older than not only her, but her parents, with paint and ancient fight posters peeling off the walls. Posters which, like everything around them, would smell like sweat, cigars, and men. None of which bothered her, of course, as it was what the admittedly young Latina grappler had grown up in. “The business”, her family called it, as if there were none other.

Fine with it though she may have been, even appreciative of the familiarity of such surroundings, the peppy brunette was in for quite the surprise. For as her GPS took her deeper and deeper into the heart of Seattle’s modern downtown, and further and further away from the heavy brick history of the city, it began to dawn on her.

That the company she had just been signed by, and the facility she was headed to, might be different than all the others she had wrestled for and in before. A company owned by a pair of billionaire brothers Jennifer had heard about time and time again from news anchors on hanging TV’s in the airports she’d use to travel from one show to another. And a facility, that as it came into view, shone brightly in the midday sun. It not being made of spray-painted cement, age-affected brick, or decaying wood, but instead new steel, blue-tinted glass, and enough stories to make her dizzy as she looked up at it.

To its unexpected, modernity-made glory, Jennifer pulled up in her 1999 faded fir green Honda Civic. A car fitted with soda-stained seats, a grease-covered gear shift, and a french-fry scented steering wheel.

Those sights and scents had been her travel companions on the road, as she made her way from one wrestling event to another. And though they had never even entered her mind before that moment, as something to be ashamed of or worried about. As a neatly dressed and fresh-shaved valet approached her poor little Honda, WWN’s newest signee suddenly found herself terrified.

“Oh god. Oh god.” The brunette mumbled in panic as she tried to clean. Using ketchup-wet napkins to clean her mayonnaise-stained dash. Only to then blow, in the hardest puffs she could muster, crumbs from one surface after another, ending her efforts at the last possible second, so that she could turn and smile as the Valet opened her door.

“Ms. Diaz, welcome.” The red-vested man greeted, his kind and classy voice making his commitment to the job clear.

“I am … uh … can I just park it? I know how to park … and drive…. Drive and park … so … I don’t need you to….” Jennifer asked as she clung to her door, defending the vehicle from being entered by anyone, even the nice-looking man in his cute little vest.

“Ms. Diaz, it’s fine.” The man smiled, as he put his own hand down softly on the door.

“I’ve seen worse. And you’ve got training to do, I imagine. So, why don’t you leave the car to me, and follow that white line over there to the front entrance.” At the kind, reassuring words, the Latina’s mouth opened for a moment, as she planned to say something. To argue. To beg even. But as the valet’s genuine smile shone brightly, Jennifer decided to just accept it.

“O-ok, but … I’m sorry. Just, don’t judge me, please. Err, judge me — but then forgive me.” The brunette asked in her distinctive manic way, as she begrudgingly exited her vehicle

“There’s nothing to forgive.” The young, lightly-cologned man said with a chuckle, as Jennifer released her death grip on the door. Thereafter taking a few awkward steps back from the vehicle.

Steps which gave the valet space to squeeze by, get into, and then sit in the driver’s seat of the car. A seat he took, just as Jennifer cried out.

“WAIT!” Came the panicked yell of the brunette, as she sprinted back to her car. One she dove into headfirst without warning. Her two-strap zebra-bodysuit-covered upper torso pushing into, against, and then past the valet’s own, as the suddenly returned wrestler reached into her passenger side footwell.

There, as the valet’s eyes went wide, Jenner remained. Her sexy, cutoff-jean-clothed ass hovering oh so very close to the parking attendant’s face. An ass which like a flute playing for a snake, called for his free left hand to raise, to press, to grab. It seeming to bob and dance just for him, as he remained there, pressed into the driver’s seat of Jennifer’s car.

Tantalizing though that dance was, and as tempting as the thought of grabbing may have been, the valet resisted. He in the red vest fighting those urges by closing his eyes and just trying to breathe. And while he focused on taking in oxygen, Jennifer continued to search through trash and wrappers — cans and makeup, all for- “Got it!”

Jennifer shouted as she began to retract, her hanging breasts dragging, oh so slowly, across the lap of the flustered and flush-faced valet. Who in his light-fabric slacks could not speak to respond, or give anything other than a sexually excited and endlessly unfocused: “uuugghhh”.

“Here!” Came Jennifer’s cutely phrased offer, one she made as she held out her hand, with the widest and most innocent of smiles on her face.

“Whhuuu…?” The valet muttered as his sentience returned to him. A return which led him to quickly move his right hand into his lap. He attempting to hide and cover his oncoming erection. An erection Jennifer was entirely oblivious to.

Distracted and turned on though the man was, still did he raise his free hand. Not to his own growing mount of excitement, but instead to Jennifer, he meaning to take whatever it is that she was offering.

And what she offered was change. A legion of gum-covered pennies, a collection of sauce-speckled nickles, and smattering of syrup-smattered quarters. A menagerie of coinage poured from Jennifer’s hand to the valet’s, just a moment before the former shouted. “Thanks!”

The last words spoken by either, as she with long curly, brunette hair ran off to meet her destiny. All as he who sat flustered and erect began to drive the little, filthy Honda to the darkest part of the parking structure to “memorialize” an encounter he’d never forget in solitude.

Minutes later, and deep within the most posh and expensive building Jennifer had ever entered in her whole life, there stood another woman. One, still rooms away from the brunette.

A woman with beautiful, strawberry blonde hair, and a perfect sun-kissed tan. A tan which stretched from her anime-cute face, down and past her raised leg, bent knee, and tightly flexed calf. A calf, which like the rest of her divinely designed body, was not, at that moment, covered by even a stitch of clothing. A state seen by noone, as she who stood, undressed and immodest, did so alone.

Alone though that nude goddess was at that moment, if she wished it, or even allowed it, she would be mobbed. By fans and wrestlers alike. As she … was Katherine Dahl. A female wrestler known as “The Doll” in the Women’s Wrestling Network, but as Katherine “The Great” in the indie circuit or wherever else she might go.

But calling Kat “a female wrestler” is like calling the Mona Lisa “a painting”. She was THE female wrestler. The Queen of the Ring. And the first woman to change the paradigm that only male wrestlers could draw.

It was for all those reasons that “The Doll” had been signed by the Bowman Brothers, not through agents, Brooke, or Rheena, but in person. She having been offered, in a meeting high on the 85th floor of the Bowman Building in New York, a 10-year agreement, with a signing bonus larger than the sum total of most top wrestler’s entire contract.

Apart from that bonus, the agreement also included, in response to Kat’s dramatic insistence, private training days at the facility. Well private, apart from whatever fresh meat the WWN brass might send her to toy with. Someone to stretch. Someone to destroy. Someone, who The Doll, before that day, had never failed to humiliate in a ring she considered her own.

A someone who had arrived, Kat surmised, as the sounds of loud squeaks and opening doors could be heard down the hall. An arrival which pushed the painfully cute blonde to hurry and finish dressing, pulling her blissfully short, legless pink trunks on, and then sliding into her midriff-exposing white t-shirt top. One that read “The Doll” across it, as if anyone in the arena or company might not know her name.

Squeak! Squeak! Squeak! Every step Jennifer took sounded like nails on a chalkboard. The Latina’s full-white New Balance tennis shoes mixing poorly with the shiny waxed floor of the training facility. Leaving her arrival to be a secret to no one, save maybe for the deaf.

But if she understood what Brooke and then Rheena had told her, there should only be one person in the building. You know, apart from the six security guards at the heavy glass door at its front.

One of them, an African American with with sparkle in his eye and smoothness to his voice, told Jennifer exactly where to find “The Doll”, and in a way, what to expect.

“Oh, Ms. Dahl? Ha, yeah you’ll find her in the fancy locker room. The one with the sign on the door that says her name. She has us put that up for her, every time she comes in. She just yells at us until we get it taped up for her.”

“Oh, ok!” Jennifer replied, seemingly unphased by the guard’s recitation. One he followed up with a “good luck” and a knowing laugh.

And though Jennifer found the locker room and sign with ease, she entered with far less. For as soon as she turned the handle and stepped through the door, she found herself met. Met, and glared at,by the waiting Doll. One who stood just past the entrance’s swing. She wanting to meet her weekly feast and set the tone, right off the bat.

“Hi!” Jennifer said sweetly, as she smiled — reacting not in the slightest to the blonde’s clear attempt at intimidation.

“Shut up.” Kat replied, her eyes narrowing to try and turn the volume up on her aura of badass’ness.

“I’m Jennifer! And you’re Kat. Wait, you know that. Sorry. Well … I’m not sorry you know that, but sorry for telling you something you already knew…. Why, uh … why do you look like someone broke your favorite Little Mermaid coffee cup?” At speed Jennifer spoke, her words set to the backdrop of her planet-sized eyes, which glimmered with genuine excitement and amicability.

Despite those eyes, and the clear softness of Jennifer’s tone, when finally she finished speaking, Kat grabbed. Kat pulled. Then Kat slammed Jennifer into a row of lockers, as the heavy door to her private locker room closed to their side.

“This is MY locker room. MY company. And you’re going to do what I say. And I said: shut up….” With every word spoken, The Doll studied the face of her prey. The blonde wanting to watch her soon-to-be opponent’s gleeful attitude melt away into one of submission and fear.

Despite that desire, all she got from Jennifer was a widening smile, and an unexpected reply. “Oh…. Ok…. I can shut up. I’m actually not great at it, but I can…. I have…. Before. I think…. But, like … how long were you thinking…? ‘Cause I just want to make sure, I don’t let you down. Brooke said I need to make you like me….”

Even after irritation had begun to simmer, continued to boil, and then at the heat of it, turned into a hot steam of rage, Kat suddenly found herself distracted. Her wide, fire-filled eyes of anger shrinking back to a normal size as she asked from pure confusion, “uh, why do I need to like you…?”

“Oh, because we’re going to be in a storyline together! Me and you! Kat and Jennifer. The Doll and The Better Woman.” As the series of words, in an order Kat never would have expected, came out of Jennifer’s mouth, she released her grabbed press.

Upon that release, the Latina raised up off the locker doors on which she had been pressed, and then snuck out from between them and her blonde idol. Then, with room to move, she began to examine the locker room.

“We. Are. Not. Going to be in a story together.” Kat declared in a hiss, her focus on controlling the moment fading into a true fear that the absolute nobody before her would be her first opponent, or dare she even think it, partner.

“Yeah we are! You don’t know it yet, but you will.” Jennifer didn’t even look at Kat as she spoke— her soft tone unchanged, despite the confidence with which she spokle. Instead, she just ran the fingers on her left hand across the marble walls of the room.

“Oh, really? What’s gonna let me know that, huh? What’s gonna make me decide to agree to ANYTHING involving you? I don’t even know who you are! And thank god I don’t! With a name like that….. The Better Woman?! What kind of catfight forum trash is that…?” Her words were fierce. Cruel. And yet still, came out as panicked. She finding the situation far different than she expected. This girl, whoever she was, not playing the sheep to her wolf — the lamb to her slaughter.

Despite the insults and the tone of Kat, Jennifer continued to walk in a circle around the locker room. She only stopping and turning, when she had made a full revolution around it. Only then, did the Latina look back at Kat, with a smile no less wide and an expression no less genuine. “Uh … duh … I’m gonna beat you. In a match. In that ring out there.”

Everything Jennifer had done and said had been shocking and unbelievable to The Doll, but none more so than her latest act of madness. A challenge, one delivered like a candle atop a pretty pink cake of preconceived victory. An assumption — a dare, so brazen, that Kat could barely think, let alone speak. She only able to laugh, loudly.

“Ha ha ha ha, you’re gonna beat me? YOU? The Bestest Newbie, or whatever your name is? What. The. Fuck. Ever.” Her point having been made already, Kat still stepped forward, and back into Jennifer’s face. Her tone changing from one of incredulous humor to steel-hard confidence. “You won’t last five minutes in that ring with me. Not. Five. Minutes. YOU HEAR ME?”

The words came with a glare. A glare, and then a push. Not hard, as before, but soft. It being meant not to hurt, but insult and anger. The Doll wanting to throw Jennifer off her game, what little of it the blonde assumed there to be.

Still smiling and impenetrably sweet as they two stood eye-to-eye and nose-to-nose, Jennifer took none of Kat’s bait, instead only responding with “so … I’ll get changed then…?”

Words which The Doll replied to in an instant. “Not in MY locker room! You get to change across the hall in the scrubs’ locker room.”

“K!” Without missing a beat or flaring in the least, Jennifer turned away from Kat’s attempted staredown, grabbed the handle to the door, and then made her way. The heavy, metal, The-Doll-labeled exit to the room slamming closed behind her, just after she heard Kat mumble under her breath: “yeah, walk away, bitch….”

Walk away though Jennifer did, it took only a few minutes for each of the two, both blonde and brunette, to be reunited again in the ring. Each in their ring attire. Jennifer in a pair of bright white boots, and a legless two-strap zebra-print bodysuit, the one she had worn to the facility, though now without the jeans.

And though The Doll was in her full ring attire, oddly, between the time Jennifer left her locker room and their entrance to the ring, Kat had not put on any boots. In fact, she was barefoot. A fact that Jennifer noticed, but did not comment on, she not really caring what her opponent had on her soles.

While Jennifer examined, so did Kat. Her eyes scanning the fully visible shape of her upstart opponent’s body. A body which, to Kat’s dismay, mirrored her own in every way.

In height and weight.

In definition and tone.

In bust and build.

And even in thighs, a fact that drove The Doll especially insane. She finding those to be her most prized possessions. Possessions which were no longer unique in the WWN; at least until she could get rid of the girl who dared to stand across the ring from her. Something she planned to do in the next five minutes.

“I am going to make you regret ever signing with this company. You are WAY out of your league.” Kat threatened from her own, far corner of the ring. Her eyes still narrowed and glaring.

“Yeah, I don’t think so…. I just have to prove it to you! And I will! Don’t worry.” Her attitude still unaffected, Jennifer began to walk to the center of the ring. Slowly, not out of fear, but respect. She knowing, that at least on that day, the match was Kat’s to begin.

As Jennifer moved, glancing up at the clock for a moment, Kat held up both arms, and with palm-up hands gestured. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, take your boots off.”

“Wait, why?” Jennifer replied, her tone making her confusion clear.

“Do you not listen? This is MY ring, and I what I say goes. So take. Your. Fucking. Boots. Off. Scrub.”

“Ugh, ok…” Jennifer replied as she bent over and started to untie her nearly knee-high boots. “…but I’m pretty sure we have to wear boots when we’re on TV.”

The comment, oddly, received no reaction from Kat. Not a word of retort, nor a huff or a puff of irritation or fury. But, believing that her compliance had earned that silence, Jennifer just continued to unlace and loosen. She, without looking up, removing one boot, then the other, and then the cute Minnie-Mouse-emblazoned socks that lied underneath.

But just as she stood back up, and tossed the removed footwear out of the ring, she heard loud, quick, echoing stomps. Stomps which caused her to turn her head, but too late, as before she could even figure out what was happening, Kat buried a raised knee deep in the brunette’s gut.

The resulting impact of the surprise attack knocked the wind out of Jennifer, who bent over at the waist, as her hands moved to her stomach. But as The Better Woman bent, The Doll grabbed with her left hand a grip of the brunette’s hair. Hair the blonde used to pull, not harshly or quickly, but slowly, she feeling at that moment in full and inescapable control.

A sense that led Kat to lift Jennifer’s head, and with a confident smirk, look into her eyes. “Ding!” The blonde said mockingly, as she suddenly spun, and with her lower back pressed to Jennifer’s waist-high shoulder, locked the brunette in a tight headlock. She going into what she called “automatic mode”. A state she entered in the ring when her opponent was fully hers. When she could do what she has always done, pour it on.

And pour it on Kat did, by squeezing Jennifer’s head and neck so tight that the blonde could hear the sounds of the brunette’s discomfort. A discomfort that came with hands, The Better Woman’s, which came to soft rests on The Doll’s powerful left thigh, and wide right hip. Those hands not meant to hurt, but to guide or even slow. Jennifer wanting to make sure she had some say in where their bodies might go if only to lessen the pain of what was to follow that movement.

A moment which came suddenly, as Kat without warning burst into a sprint as if she intended to perform a bulldog. And though Jennifer began to prepare herself for such a maneuver and impact, in opposite of it, The Doll slammed on the breaks. A teasing misdirection that hurt, as the speed of the halting and the jamming it caused wrenched even more terribly at Jennifer’s neck.

Again and again, The Doll performed such stutter-stop dashes — dragging The Better Woman’s bent-over body forward, only to jam it hard when the blonde dug her bare heels into the mat in a sudden stop. Each such maneuver carrying with it a certain amount of momentum, at first forward, and then at its end: back.

That momentum on the back end came into play, as when Kat went for her little tease one final time, Jennifer took an extra step, planted her feet, and then lifted. The Better Woman, in so doing, pulling Kat up off the mat, into the air, and then in a perfect reverse northern lights suplex, driving her shoulders and neck-first into the mat.

Despite that impact, fierce and unexpected as it was, Kat did not release her headlock, nor Jennifer her own pressure. And so they each remained, with the brunette in a toe-held bridge, and Kat folded in two at the waist, with shoulders pinned to the mat.

A state which was suddenly called out by a clearly synthesized voice that seemed to emanate from the building itself. “One….” It said with crystal clarity, hitting Jennifer with equal amounts of shock and hope. Shock at the concept of a ring that can count a pinfall on its own, and a hope that the ring and its wizardry might reach the count of three.

And though the brunette grappler held out the hope that she might end the match and prove her point early, the blonde she held resisted. As the golden goddess of the ring, after reluctantly releasing her headlock and with a two-legged kick, freed herself from not only from the pin but The Better Woman’s grasp.

“Who was…? What was th–?” Jennifer asked as she sat up, trying to understand how a ring might count by itself. But rather than providing time for exploration or study, Kat, who had already recovered, attacked. She feeling the pain of the suplex but ignoring it in her rage.

“You fucking bitch! How dare you try to pin me!” It made no sense in the context of the two being involved in a match, but still, Kat said it. The blonde diving to her knees and landing between the brunette’s spread legs. She, once there, locking the sitting Jennifer into a tight headlock once more.

A headlock that she squeezed tighter than before, the vindictive vessel of technical prowess wanting to punish her opponent for even thinking about escaping her last hold, let alone actually making that escape.

And so with wrong righted, and with her familiar hold cinched in deep once again, Kat stood, yanking Jennifer up to her feet.

Once there, Kat made not the mistake of charging forward as she did last time. No, instead she simply squeezed — simply walked, fully intent on dragging Jennifer around the ring to show the insolent brunette that Katherine “The Great” was truly in control.

But as they walked, one pulling and the other pulled, Jennifer again lifted her hands. She seeming to place them exactly where she had when she had lifted and then suplexed Kat before.

A telegraphed lift that Jennifer attempted after Kat had taken only a few steps. But at the second coming of the same counter, The Doll was ready. Ready to release her headlock so that she could duck her head forward, and take she and Jennifer into a victory roll.

But whereas The Doll was ready for the brunette’s attempted suplex, The Better Woman was ready for the blonde’s reversal. The former releasing the latter entirely as she to bend forward. A bending that was quickly interrupted as Jennifer, without a second’s hesitation, threw a textbook dropkick right into the middle of the blonde’s back. The maneuver sending the overconfident Queen of the Ring stumbling forward and into the corner.

Show Her How You Throw

It took a few seconds longer than before, but still, Kat’s anger drove her to recover. Drove her to shake out the cobwebs, and step out from the corner, her face seeming to me melted by rage. “BITCH!” The Doll shouted as she stormed towards Jennifer, who just smiled.

Smiled and then spoke, Jennifer did, after she took a glance up at the clock on the wall next to the ring. “One minute, thirty seconds.”

“What!?” Kat asked, unsure what the brunette was referring to.

“You said I wouldn’t last five minutes. You’ve got a minute and thirty — ooh — twenty seconds to make that true.” It was only then that Jennifer started to show her own, still-cute form of cattiness. One hidden behind a mile-thick veneer of kindness.

A revelation of both time and tone that caused Kat to charge, just as Jennifer did the same. The two wrestlers throwing up their arms and locking themselves into a hard collar-and-elbow tie-up as they collided. One that began with a mutually loud planting of feet that sent a sound of crashing mat echoing through the training facility.

The Doll was certain, she’d win. That she’d break the little brunette upstart. Not only easily, but quickly. And yet, as she dug the bare soles of her feet into the mat, and spread her tanned and muscle-etched legs. Legs which flexed hard, atop toes that splayed, she found herself matched.


Unable to push forward or gain even an inch of advance. She and Jennifer pushing into each other with all their force but without either gaining even the slightest advantage.

Despite that parity of power, neither grappler would let go. Each clinging to the lock-up, and their mutual pushing, as if it alone could decide something between them. The foreheads of the two women pressing together, as each fought to overpower the other. Eyes locked — or more fused together, as even those eyes and the souls they bared, seemed to engage.

Each grunting and uttering the smallest, most delicate sounds of effort as they pushed into each other, without end or advancement. The two separately moving to their bare tiptoes to try and gain any advantage, no matter how small. And though they each tried — and though they each fought not only each other but the frustration of being so perfectly matched, there they remained. Lowering and rising — angling and adjusting — for minutes that seemed endless and moments that felt like their own miniature eternities.

In the middle of one such eternity, as each of the two warring wrestlers struggled desperately against one another, Jennifer, through her own exertion spoke. “Times…. Up…..”

That reminder of the 5 minute time limit that The Doll had placed on herself, or more accurately the passing of that limit drove Kat mad. So mad, in fact, that rather than continuing she and her opponent’s irritatingly equal tie-up, Kat took action. Not by releasing her half of the lock-up, or by suggesting to Jennifer that they call it a draw.

No, but instead by leaning back, pulling Jennifer in, and then when the brunette was fully bent, driving a hard outer-thigh into her gut once again. A blow that sent The Better Woman to the mat and her knees.

A place she remained as Kat ran back, bounced off the ropes and then threw her own dropkick, right into Jennifer’s face. A barefoot blast that sent Jennifer down hard, the Latina collapsing in a twist to her stomach.

There, as the hot overhead lights beat down upon her upturned back, Jennifer laid. Left cheek pressed to the mat. Her velvety soft brown hair splayed out about her head. That is until that hair was grabbed and yanked up hard by Kat.

“Get up, you little bitch.” The Doll began, as she drug her once confident opponent up from the soft fabric of the mat to a stand, and then with a sudden jerk, beneath one of her arms. A placement that made the blonde’s intent to suplex clear.

“You think you can just show up in my world and be somebody?” Rhetorical though it was, when Jennifer answered with nothing but the softest of groans, Kat smiled. Even as she grabbed for wrist, and lifted “The Better Woman”’s left arm up, and over her neck.

“I decide who gets to be somebody!” With a roar, The Doll made her position atop the food chain clear, just as she fired Jennifer upwards and over. Whipping her with a quickness in a snap suplex that would have made the crowd groan in unison, had one been there to see it, and cringe had they been there to hear it.

The resulting thud.

The splatter of spandex covered flesh against canvas.

Though it sounded like a mumble to Jennifer, garbled in a brain half-present, The Doll couldn’t have said it louder or with more force. “And I don’t choose you, bitch….”

“Huh…? What do you think about that you stupid little jobber?” The cruel question was asked as The Doll stood over the mat-bound Jennifer. The blonde goddess wanting to hear her opponent’s response, or watch her fail to come up with one.

“I … I think you’re already starting to like me….” Dazed and winded though she was, The Better Woman knew she had made it. Knew she had lasted past the 5 minute promise of the woman standing above her. And though there was clearly more work to be done, and more match to have, it was working, Jennifer thought.

She was hanging….

She was lasting in a match with the best in the business. Now all she had to do was beat her, the golden goddess who shouted down at her. One with a mind of malice.

A mind that pushed Katherine to reach, grab, and then secure the hair of the brunette beneath her. Hair on which the blonde pulled to lift her opponent’s head and upper body off the mat and into an upright and seated position.

Then, with her opponent so seated, The Doll moved her gloveless hands to either side of the Latina’s face. They sliding tightly across cheeks before clasping hard around the chin of the same.

A clasped grip Kat used to drive a hard right kneecap into the back of Jennifer’s neck. A knee that remained as its owner took to a single-legged kneel, trapping she who suffered into a painful rear chin-lock.

“Fuck you! I hate that I even know your name. That we even had a conversation before I destroyed you….” Kat continued as she pulled and tortured. The blonde brat keeping the point of her knee right at the apex of the brunette’s backward bending neck.

A brunette who sat trapped on the mat. She having no choice but to endure not only The Doll’s tongue-lashing, but the pressure of her head being bent back cruelly over the kneecap of the same.

“You aren’t good enough to speak to me!” Kat went on, just before she heard it.

“Unnnrrrrgggghhhhh….” A groan from Jennifer, one that came as her hands moved up to try to pry Kat’s fingers away from her chin.

A sound and a seeking of escape, that seemed to act as some kind of signal or flare to the huntress Kat. A huntress who in a blink dropped her pressing knee, and with a surge, shot forward. Her chin-locked hands shifting with speed, as her left forearm wrapped around Jennifer’s throat before it pulled tight into a picture-perfect sleeper hold. One the golden grappler cinched in by bringing the palm of her free right hand to the brunette’s forehead.

It was then, as Kat’s top-covered breasts pressed against Jenn’s back, and as the first beads of sweat began to drip from both combatants’ hair, that there was silence.

Save for the quiet chorus the two played together as a symphony. They two women at odds, as they struggled against one another, letting loose entrancing sounds of both effort and exhale — minute whimpers and near inaudible hops of breath turned voice.

The ears of each filling with those glorious and intoxicating notes of the other’s presence and passion as they fought each other on the mat. The Doll waiting to see what her opponent would do, as that same opponent, Jennifer, fought just to escape the fog that she still found herself mired in.

So much offense had been delivered by the blonde pressing against her.

So many moves in a row had been both landed and endured, without reprisal. And yet it came. A sudden shift of hips and shoulders, as Jennifer with speed, moved her lower half out from under her rival, though the same kept her sleeper hold held. The pair’s movement coming to an end, in their newly earned position, each on their knees — the breasts and body of one weighing down on the captured frame of the other.

And though before she had talked and taunted, seemingly without end, as the moment played out, Katherine could not have been more silent or focused. The strawberry blonde knowing that she wanted to keep the young Latina upstart not only grounded, but dominated. Held in her arms and struggling for breath.

Something the vindictive Doll would have wanted already, but especially after their maddeningly equal tie-up and the breaching of her 5-minute brag. A tie-up in which Kat found herself not only stymied but matched push-for-push and press-for-press. And a promise she found not only missed, but now almost 5-minutes in the past.

But Jennifer’s frustrating equal strength and irritating resilience seemed a distant memory. As she remained on her knees, air-deprived and grasping at Kat’s tanned forearm — one that pressed tightly against the brunette’s throat.

Grim though things seemed for The Better Woman, with The Doll’s sleeper still applied and draining, Jennifer still fought her way up to her feet from her knees.

Wearing Her Down

Made it to her feet though the brunette had, after only a few steps towards the ropes, did Kat lift and press the sole of her right foot into the bend behind Jennifer’s knee. The blonde using the pressure of the press to collapse her opponent once again to the mat, though on her knees, a few feet from one of the ring’s turnbuckles.

In that moment, as footing was stolen and control was reasserted by Kat, it was the sound that surrounded them once more — the tiny grunts of effort that engulfed the battling pair. As with the building’s AC having been set to off at Kat’s insistence, only the sounds they made for and because of each other could be heard.

The delicate breaths of each, effort-drug from the blonde and weak and gasping from the brunette taking hold of their minds. Something about the softness and the fragility of those modulations that affected them. Transfixed them. And though at least Kat would not admit it, turned them both on.

Those sounds representing the essence of their mutual heavens.



Woman against woman.

Body against body.

Who could outwit, outmaneuver, and outgrapple the other.

Who wanted it more….

Questions they each sought to answer, with actions and not words. Kat certain she was the better woman, regardless of Jenn’s name. Just as the latter was equally sure that no matter how good her opponent was, she could hang with them in the ring.

But such expected belonging and brazen certainty appeared to be fading by the minute — by the moment. As Kat held tight to her sleeper, leaning in and against Jenn’s back with her well-endowed upper-body. Forcing the Latina grappler to slump forward, as her breaths continued to shorten and lungs began to burn.

Mix though the golden hair of one did with coffee-colored strands of the other, in a long exhausting sleeper, suddenly such weaving waves of perfectly curly hair were disturbed. As Jennifer, in a sudden and unexpected drive, pushed herself back to her feet.

Then, when she was upright once more, she of the Guerrero family forcibly ran forward, dragging Kat along with her. The blonde cornerstone of the Women’s Wrestling Network trying, with all her might, to pull Jennifer back down to the mat.

And though Kat could have, given enough time. And though she meant to, intending to finish her young upstart opponent off with the slow drain of a sleeper. Before either eventuality could happen, Jennifer threw her lower body up, out, and with the bare soles of her feet, climbed the ropes on either side of the corner’s turnbuckle.

The brunette mounting one step after another, until she reached the top rung. And when she did so arrive, she pressed and pushed off with her legs, driving herself backward, as she curled herself up.

The force of such a launching was too strong and the application too unexpected, for Kat to resist. And in that inability, she found herself drove not only back, but then down. The golden grappler collapsing back to the mat, even as she, with every ounce of her being held tight to her sleeperhold.

And yet as she held to it, and as Jennifer’s body rolled up, over, and then in half on top of her, The Doll’s shoulders pressed down against the mat. The brunette having drug the move from her memory of watching her favorite wrestler, Bret Hart, turn the tables on Roddy Piper at Wrestlemania VIII.

“One…” Came a synthesized voice over the loudspeaker of the gym.

“Two…” Then came another count, one Kat could barely hear as she laid beneath her bent-over-at-the-waist rival.

Muffled though the count of 2 was, and as effective as that reversal had been in the hands of the Excellence of Execution, at the last possible moment did The Doll find the presence of mind to kick out. She releasing her sleeper and firing her right arm up into the air, her shoulder lifting from the mat with only a millisecond or two before the count of three would have sounded.

In the wake of such a close call and count, Jennifer rolled off and away from Kat as she weized. Her hands reaching for her throat as she fought to regain her air through one cough after another.

“You stupid BITCH!” Raged The Doll.

“You don’t get a two count on me!” She roared once more as she rolled quickly to her feet, and began to storm over to Jennifer who had only barely made it back to all fours.

“Do you know who I AM?!?!?!” Indignant beyond measure, Kat reached and grabbed for Jennifer’s brown curls. And though she did reach them, and with her hands did grasp them, before she could even pull, Jennfier spun, coiled, and rolled her into a small package.

“One….” The loudspeaker announced again, as Jennifer and Kat, rolled into a small ball of limbs mirrored bodies jostled. A ball which teetered slightly from side to side, though it was Kat’s shoulders that remained pinned.

“Two….” That dreaded number rang out again, and as soon as it did, The Doll kicked out. Her normally beautiful face a rictus of anger and momentary hatred, even as she sat facing away from her opponent. Her mind running a mile a minute thinking about how badly she would hurt Jennifer for not only one two count, but TWO OF THEM!

Retribution she sought to deliver as she spun both to her feet and around.

Vengeance she looked to carry out as her dark, hazel eyes searched for her rival.

A rival she did not find standing or laying, but instead in mid-air, in the middle of throwing a textbook dropkick — one that would have made even Hardcore Holly jealous. The bare soles of the Latina landing in the deadcenter of Kat’s pretty little face.

The half-strike, half-pushing-off sent The Doll down to the mat in a pile of rejected expectations and head-circling birds.

And as those cute little birdies chirped, Jennifer took to the offense. The Latina quickly turning, running, and rebounding off the ropes of the ring. Using the momentum they gave to come back fast, and then, just as Kat rolled onto her back, to hop into the air and drop the underside of a knee across her opponent’s upturned face.

Sexy and toned though Jennifer’s leg was, it still landed hard, stealing away what little sense The Doll had recovered since she lost control of the match.

Unfocused and hurt though the blonde was, they still came. Words, mumbled though they were, still dripping with derision and insult. And though Jennifer could barely hear them, let alone make them out, the brunette still knew. Still understood that The Doll, even in her momentarily capsized state, was mocking her.

The golden goddess’ slurred and slanderous words continuing, as she laid on the mat beneath The Better Woman’s bent lower limb. Attacks of verve and verbiage that continued until Jennifer suddenly lowered her already dropped leg, and sealed closed Kat’s mouth with the sweaty underside of her knee.

And whereas Kat’s eyes had been half-closed before and glazed over. As her opponent’s knee pit came down in a quick and silencing smother, they shot open.

“You’re GOING to like me….” Jenn insisted as a mischievous smile took to her lips. “Might as well, just give into it….” Sincere though the words were, as The Better Woman spoke them, leaning back on extended and straightened arms anchored into the mat with pressed palms, Kat began to flail. The blonde grappler kicking her legs, and swinging her arms — throwing her own form of a tantrum as she tried to yell through tightly-pressing flesh and insult through lip-smearing sweat.

As entertaining as the sight was watching the Queen of the Ring exploding with not only rage but petulance, there beneath a lowered and pressing knee pit, still did Jennifer relent. The brunette lifting her leg and spinning to a stand, all as she grabbed for Kat’s hair and pulled her to the same.

Even then, having been bereft of air, and pushed into a hissy, Kat tried to mock. Tried to insult, even as she weazed in half and sputtered in the other. “You’rrrre nothing but a … a … j-job-bber….”

Cruel though the words were, they earned from Jennifer only a quick and light-hearted: “Prove it!” A dare she spoke as she took her opponent’s wrist and arm and then whipped, sending Kat into the ropes.

Then, and just as the blonde hit, turned, and began her return trip, Jennifer readied herself. Looking to deliver a wicked “Randy Orton powerslam” as she often called it.

But as the Latina realigned her arms and bent her body, The Doll angled and hopped around her waiting opponent. Then, after rounding she who sought to slam, locked in a deep and perfectly applied abdominal stretch.

One that left the two grapplers of equal size and mirrored shape, body-to-body.

Blonde behind brunette

The Doll stretching and bending The Better Woman hard and to her right.

“Owe, owe, owe.” Jennifer whimpered in a wince, as her rival’s hand pressed down on her spandex-exposed hip.

“Time for a stretch, bitch.” Came Kat’s announcement of success. One that arrived alongside a throwing back of her head, to get sweat-bound weavings of golden hair out of in front of her eyes.

Jennifer did not respond, however, either to the words of claiming that were spoken or even Kat’s forceful and clearly intentional thrusting of her own pubic-mound into Jennifer’s rear. A pressing meant to sear a certain truth into Jennifer’s brain.

That the Doll was in control. Not only of the ring, but at that moment, of Jennifer’s body. Opposed though that fact was to the brunette’s chances of winning the match, as Kat bent back, all the former could do was groan out in pain.

A groan that brought a smirk to the blonde’s chipmunk-cute face. A forming of lips only lost when the same spoke again. “I’m gonna have a word with Brooke after this — after I’m DONE…” As the word ‘done’ moved from her drying lips and into the warm air of training facility, Kat rocked back hard, causing Jennifer to moan once again in pain. “…with you.”

At the comment, and the consequences such a conversation might have, Jennifer strained. The brunette trying to pull her own uplifted and held left arm forward. Hoping that along with it, would come Kat in a hip toss. One that would end the painful abdominal stretch the Latina found herself in.

But as Jenn pulled, Kat countered by leaning forward and in closer. The blonde rewrapping herself around the brunette, sinking the stretch in even deeper as she whispered. “Mmmm, nope…. Not a chance, scrub….”

“Uuunnnggghhh!!” Pained was Jennifer’s reply. One she offered as she suffered in Kat’s lingering hold. A hold that drained Jennifer, both through pain and fruitless resistance. Fruitless that is, until Kat moved to adjust her right leg. A leg which until that moment has been bound bare thigh to bare thigh with Jennifer’s own.

But as their sweat-moist flesh peeled apart, and as Kat moved to reposition her extremity, the brunette grappler ducked, dropped, and then in a flash rounded Kat.

The relative of the Guerrero family seeking to return the favor by locking her blonde rival in the same hold — the same abdominal stretch. But Kat resisted, half in panic, and when she did, the young grappler charged. She, with palms slamming against shoulder blades, pushing The Doll forward. In that direction, and sternum-first the strawberry blonde crashed into the top turnbuckle of the corner that stood only a few feet from them.

After the slam, and with her sense of place and precision lost, Kat rolled. She turning to face out from the corner as she stood. The momentarily stunned goddess shaking her head and moving her hands to her chest — as if somehow their presence might help her retrieve her wind.

A search for air that continued even as the blonde opened her eyes to find her beautiful brunette opponent running, leaping, and then in a Stinger-like splash, landing upon her in the corner.

Jennifer weighed not a pound more or less than Kat, and yet still, that parity did nothing to make her landing hurt less. It causing, along with a loud groan, Kat to fall forward and onto her knees as the once again standing brunette withdrew.

“Ok, watch this one! I call it the flying linaje!” Were anyone there to have heard the words, they would have thought Jennifer was speaking to a friend. Not her opponent. Not a woman who had been so incredibly mean to her.

A tone, that though paired with an irrepressible smile, did not stop Jennifer from running forward and toward both Kat and the corner. A blonde who wobbled as she remained on her knees, and a corner just a foot behind her.

An imbalanced platform though she was, the Latina still leaped atop Kat, and with bare soles landed on her shoulders. Shoulders which played the role of a launching pad, one Jennifer used to fire her lower-half off of and into the air. The upper-half above it would have gone too, but Jenn had reached out, grabbed the top rope on either side of the turnbuckle, and then with all the momentum she could muster fired herself back down and at Kat.

The head of the blonde catching between Jennifer’s thighs before the same drove The Doll’s face down and into the mat — in a modified, slingshot, pedigree.

A move that filled Jennifer with hope and glee. Not only because the move was not only pretty but her own invention, but also because it might earn a three. Something the brunette sought to test in a quickly applied pin.

“One!” The automated ring counted.

“Two!” It did so again.

And though Jenn could hear it in her mind. The next integer. The next count. The one that would give her the proof she needed to convince The Doll to choose her, the same kicked out. Not strongly, but weakly. Not right after 2, but as close to three as a count could get.

As close as she had been, Jennifer griped. “Ugh! I almost had you!” The Latina mused with a giggle, before she rose up off of Kat and then stood up.

“You’re going to choose me! I know it! So might as well just give in!” Figuratively though she meant it, the “give in” part, Jennifer was about to make it literal. The glistening skinned grappler reaching down and grabbing The Doll’s legs by their Achilles. All before lifting them up and then stepping through them.

It was time. Time for the Sharpshooter. One of Jennifer’s favorite and most effective holds. One she was sure she could get on, given how broken and battered Kat was. Certainly, at that moment, too weak to resist or repel the smiling hispanic heroine.

An expectation proved true, as Jennifer crossed Kat’s legs over her own outstretched left thigh, and then turned. Not only around, but The Doll over. She cinching her Hitman-like submission in deep — in hard. Sitting her own ass down on the blonde’s, before bending back.

“Aaaarrrhhhhhh!!!!” The Doll cried, as her eyes suddenly shot open from pain.

“Let…. GO OF ME!!!” She with twisted legs and a bent lumbar protested.

“Just tap and I wiiiilllll!” Infuriatingly, Jennifer’s tone was buoyant and bouncy — pleasant and pleased. And though Kat would have slapped her for sounding that way at any other moment, as her breasts pressed hard to the mat, and her body bent tortuously in half, the blonde could do nothing more than groan.

Nothing more than suffer, in the perfectly applied hold of her nauseatingly chipper opponent. Suffer as she did, the thought came to her — though she tried with all her focus to fight it off. I could just give. Just submit. All the girl wanted was a chance. An opportunity. No different than Kat had been given by another years ago. But no….

But NEVER!!!



The thought curses and boiling rage helped The Doll keep her lifted and hovering right hand from slamming down on the mat to tap out. Helped her move that same hand out and over, even as she gritted her teeth to keep from screaming. Then, even though she fought with all the focus and anger she could muster, she knew it was coming. The moment when she could take no more.

The moment when Jenn would force a submission, as she leaned back further and harder. When the cushion of their pressing and ring gear-exposed ass cheeks would not be enough to ease the pressure.

But just as that moment seemed to arrive — seemed to crash home like a freight train leaving the tracks, The Kat reached it. Or perhaps, more accurately, found it. The bottom rope. A rope that when tugged triggered the ring’s sensors once again.

“Rope break!” Came the synthesized voice through the facility’s speakers, and when it did, Jennifer’s eyes went wide.

“What…?” The Latina muttered as she looked about herself confused.

A confusion born not only of Kat’s successful reaching of the rope, but also that the ring could sense even that? Even a submission and then a touching of the bottom rope?

Shocked though Jenn was, at the sounding of a computerized count of “One!” she still broke her sharpshooter, letting Kat’s legs crash down to the mat.

“How much did this ring cost…?” The question was meant for no one. It being more a voicing of her own surprise than anything else. And yet still, as she queried, The Doll rolled out of the ring, and there collapsed to her knees, as she reached both hands to her lower back and pressed — hoping the application might do her some good.

Her technology-earned shock having passed, Jennifer searched and then found her opponent as she walked to the ring ropes and looked down at her. “I actually met Bret Hart once!” Jennifer announced as she waited for Kat to recover and get back into the ring. “Well, not met. He didn’t … like … actually see me. But I saw him! I took a selfie. With the back of his head, but still…. I can send it to you….”

Genuine though Jenn’s words were, as she spoke them, The Doll stood and waved her off. The golden-haired grappler shaking her head left, right, and then back again as she began to walk back to the locker room from whence she came with a limp.

“Hey wait! We’re not done here!” The brunette Guerrero-in-half called as she dropped to the mat, rolled out under the bottom ring ropes, and then chased after her opponent. The brunette in pursuit not wanting to lose her one chance at earning not only Kat’s compliance but respect.

And though Jennifer planned no attack and foresaw no risk from the retreating blonde, as soon as she reached, both in placement and touch, the latter became clear. The Doll turning, grabbing, and then with a wickedly hard pull, firing The Better Woman face-first into the metal corner bar of the ring.

With a loud and echoing THUD, did the space between Jennifer’s heavily-thickened eyebrows land. And with that sound, came her collapse. The brunette dropping not only to her knees, but the pads beneath in a clump.

“I. Am. Going. To. DESTROY YOU!” The Doll promised, her voice shaking with uncontrollable rage.

“I AM THE DOLL! KATHERINE THE FUCKING GREAT! THE BEST WRESTLER IN THE GODDAMN WORLD!!!!!” She of many names yelled at what seemed to be the top of her lungs.

“AND WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?” Rhetorical and hateful, Kat’s question was. A tone matched as she grabbed for Jennifer’s hair, and with it, pulled the same to her feet.

“Some Mexican Chris Benoit bitch? A wannabe Saturday Night Slam Master?” As the blonde continued her tirade, she rolled the seemingly lifeless Jennifer back into the ring, only to roll in after her.

“HUH?!” Kat knew Jennifer was in no place to respond, and yet still, in a fit of anger, and as The Better Woman remained collected on the mat in a pile, she kicked. The blonde driving her bare sole into the Latina’s ribs, forcing her over and onto her back.

“Stupid…. Fucking…. Bitch…..” A point though Kat might have had as she began to berate, at some point in her fury she lost it. The perfectly tanned talent almost muttering curses incoherently as she dropped down on Jennifer stomach in a thigh-to-either-side straddle.

“I can’t believe you thought you could beat me!” Moored though she was once again, in thought and focus, her anger did not ebb. No, instead it pushed her to lift her arms, and then in alternating volleys slap. Firing her hands down and palms in, letting each splash across Jennifer’s rosey-cheeks in harsh, stinging, crashes.

No fight. No resistance came from the brunette as she laid between Kat’s legs, her eyes closed and pathetic smile stolen away by pain. And so The Doll said it. Knew it….

“But you know better now, don’t you?” Six slaps or twelve? Twelve slaps or twenty? Jennifer had lost count, and Kat never counted. But even without certainty of how long the blonde had battered the brunette’s poor cheeks, she still stood up.

“Get up….” Out of her own petulant anger, did Kat continue what she saw as a punishment Jennifer truly deserved. Dragging her to her feet, and then with a grip in her hair, whipping her left and then right, back and then forward. Testing and teasing her to see if she had anything left. And when finally she was satisfied that her opponent was thoroughly broken, The Doll reached, leaned, and then after a following lift, body slammed Jennifer hard on the unforgiving mat.

The slam was in itself an attack, and yet still, to Kat, it was a was a setup. The thick-thighed grappler walking, still off-kilter, to the corner and climbing — intent on finishing Jenn off with a moonsault.

Given the risk involved, a climb to and a leap from the top rope should always be done quickly. But given how much had already been taken out of The Doll, she was slow. Her lower back aching, and her legs feeling as if they might give way at any moment.

But the blonde was undaunted if not unphased, and so after making the climb, and centering herself facing outward, she leaped! High into the air, into a backward flip and at Jennifer who remained unmoving on her back in the perfect position for Kat to land on.

Until she wasn’t.

Until the brunette rolled, just out of the way, leaving The Doll to crash down tummy and face-first into the mat with an echoing thud and devastating splatter.

Devastated though she was, Jennifer was no better. The two physically identical grapplers laying on the mat only a foot apart groaning. Moaning. Neither able to kip up or even bring themselves to a stand. They having each gone further and deeper into what was supposed to be a sparring match than most of the real matches they had ever been in.

And they weren’t done.

Not yet.

Not even….

A fact they each proved as they slowly pushed themselves up from the mat to their wobbly knees. Then from those knees to their unsteady feet, as they each struggled to remain standing, still not more than a foot apart.

And yet as close as they were, they began to strike at each other. Not with fists, but with open-hand palms. Each hearing an imagined chorus of boo’s and yay’s in their heads, as they slowly, weakly, fired their live rounds back and forth in the very center of the ring. They together on the very verge of collapse, until finally one cleared that verge — the blonde amongst them falling back to the mat on her back, after one final strike.

Jennifer had won their opposing flurries of open-fists, and yet still she wobbled and stumbled — leaned and languished in her own fatigue. Through such a state of weakness and waylay she fought, shaking her head and refocusing her eyes on the goddess of the ring that laid on her back before her.

A goddess that Jennifer reached for, as she once again lifted the blonde’s legs into the air by her achilles. No ropes this time. No rope break. It was the end for The Doll. She would give in to the Sharpshooter, and the match would be over. The Better Woman was sure of it.

With that certainty firm and fixed in her mind, the Latina grappler stepped through Kat’s legs again, crossed those legs above her own thigh once more, and then….

Just as Jennifer went to turn The Doll over and cinch in her hero’s finishing move to end the match, Kat reached up and grabbed. Not for arm or hair, but the center of the cinching wrestler’s doublet. On that garb the blonde did not just grab, she also tugged. So hard, in fact, that Jennifer found herself yanked forward and down, at the same time that her spandex outfit tore.

No time was there, however, to worry about how such a tear had occurred, or where such ripped seams might be, for as Jennifer fell, The Doll wrapped. The countering queen taking the countered newcomer into a makeshift small-package. One that led to a synthesized voice countuing out: “One….”

Then “Two….”, and almost three. But before such sound could ring out through the facility, Jennifer fired out with every limb and kicked out. The shock of The Doll’s sudden reversal almost costing the Latina the match.

Escape though she had, from her beautiful, tanned-skinned rival’s pin, Jennifer remained on her back — on the mat, too tired to make it back to her feet. The match and the struggle having taken their toll. Leaving the young grappler, at least at that moment, too exhausted to do anything else but rest. Anything other than breathe.

Breathe, just like Kat, who too remained down and derelict, only a few feet away. Each of the two sweat-glistened warriors trying to regain what they had lost, under the hot lights of the training facility. But as one moment turned to two and two to four, eventually each began to stir.

The pair of broken battlers fighting their way up to their knees. Jennifer facing the ring ropes, with The Doll just behind her. Each with a grunt pushing themselves up further and to their feet.

But as they together stood, Kat leaped into the air, and then onto Jennifer’s back. She trying, with rapid wrapping movements that looked like in part like desperation, to lock in her sleeper hold once more. The Doll coiling her left forearm under the brunette’s chin and across her chest.

Jennifer was so weak. So tired. So entirely spent that as Kat began to coil around her, she almost collapsed. If she had fallen, with her rival thighs clasping around her abdomen, just as her upper limbs did the same around her neck, it would have been only a matter of seconds before the match was over. The Better Woman, in that reality, facing the desperate choice of either succumbing to unconsciousness or submission as she lay defenseless in her opponent’s arms.

But instead she battled through, and in a stumble careened forward. She only giving way at the very edge of the ring. A placement of destabilization and plunge that allowed Jennifer to drop safely down to the mat, while Kat, in opposite was not only dropped but then hung, when her throat caught hard upon the second rope.

Had The Doll not held onto her sleeper hold so tightly, or had she paid more attention to her surroundings and less to her opponent, she might have avoided it. But without such alterations in course, the consequence of the collision between throat and rope were devastating. The blonde beauty finding herself catapulted with a bounce off of her rival’s back and onto her own.

That rebound both of ring rope and momentum left both wrestlers hacking and wheezing — both holding their throats as they rolled on their backs in cycling, one-eighth turns. Jennifer from her rival’s painfully tight sleeper and Kat from the rope such a hold doomed her to.

Had either had more left, they would have let it slip into their minds. Calling it a draw. A tie. Ending their sparring match and shaking hands. Each giving up their hope of winning what had turned out to be far more than either had ever imagined.

But they had gone too far. Drained too much of their reserves, and at the same time, committed too much of their pride. And so, they each fought to their knees, even as their lungs burned and muscles ached. To their feet as their vision blurred and legs wobbled.

It was only then, as each looked to each other, that the consequence of Kat’s earlier tearing grab was known. Jenn’s zebra-patterned doublet falling not only forward and loose, but down and into a hang between her legs. Her bare breasts exposed to the warm, stale air of the gym and her rival.

But modesty did not stop Jennifer, who still, despite the malfunction, limped forward towards that rival. Nor did some form of puritan shyness give Kat pause at the same.

No, in fact, driven by some instinctual, primal feeling of challenge, The Doll reached up and pulled her own, white, midriff-exposing top up and over her head, revealing her own breasts as she tossed the gear up and out of the ring.

Beasts which like the rest of their bodies matched to perfection. In size and shape — circumference of areola and length of nipple. They differing only in their color. Katherine’s tits, amazing as they were, shaded with a sun-kissed tan with burgundy centers, whereas Jennifer’s were a tanless white, capped with a bump-strewn red.

One might expect Jennifer to have recoiled at Kat’s sudden disrobing and equalling of the topless score. For the brunette had lost her top not by choice but by happenstance. And yet here the blonde was, choosing to remove her own.

But Jenn felt it.

Jenn understood it.

She too hearing the call.

A call that inspired the newly topless Kat, exhausted though she and her opponent were, to lift her right arm and then, with her hand reached high, to spread her fingers. A display she then mirrored with her left arm and hand, as she advanced towards Jennifer.

Such lifts and spreading the Latina grappler matched as she closed the distance on her rival. A distance which vanished, when, as if they had been pulled together by gravity, the two women crashed together. The wriggling fingers on both of their hands lacing and locking shut, just as their palms pressed together.

Certainty though there was to their march towards one another and the challenge both issued and accepted. Unlike before, in their collar-and-elbow tie-up, the two women did not come together like two amazon ready for war, or two lionesses filled to the brim with vim and vigor.

No, for instead, as they pushed into each other, they each groaned and whimpered. They each feeling every bit of their fatigue. Their muscles failing them and reserves of energy coming to them in a sputter rather than a splash.

From a tactical point of view, it was stupid for Kat to challenge and silly for Jenn to accept such a test of strength this late in their engagement. But their battle — the most keen and personal aspect of it, was no longer about tactics. No longer about a sequence of moves and how best to counter them. It had, somewhere in their epic struggle, become about something more. Something greater. Something far more personal.

Who was better?

Who was stronger?

Who was … in someway … ANY WAY, discernible and distinct from the other?

They had, for almost an hour locked each other in holds only to have them escaped. Countered a maneuvered, only to find it countered back. They had struggled without avail. Fought without victor.

Each being equal — being even at every turn and every test.

And though there was agony to such equality and a pain to suich parity, it too excited them. Both the hunter and the hunted. The predator and the prey.

One or both might deny it, but not truthfully. Not anymore. For as the two women, in the center of the ring pressed themselves together, their steel-hard nipples dug deep into each other’s chest.

And though such erect centers alone might be written off, then came the sounds once again.

Each breathing in quick, shaking breaths as the two warring women pushed against each other, with feet planted and identical thighs driving.

Each whimpering, not barely like before, but fully and in concert with one another, as their arms shook and foreheads pressed.

To them it was heaven. To them it was hell. Such pure weakness. Such soul-aching fatigue. And yet they shared it with each other. And yet they sunk into it like quicksand.

Eyes locked and bodies trembling. Sweat-drenched hair meeting and in their closeness tangling. That moment, there between them, as they fought to overpower one another — to dominate one another, feeling like it was both their sickness and their salve. Their battle of laced fingers, pressed palms, and smashing breasts their addiction and their intervention.

Intense as it was. Incredible as it was. Their straining stalemate in the center of the ring. Still did it dawn on both of them. There could and would be no winner. And in light of such inescapable and yet frustrating truth, Jennifer muttered through gritted teeth. “Choose me….”

“Noooo….” Through the same grit, and just under pressing nose tips, did Kat respond. The lips of each wrestler hovering only centimeters apart as they issued their terms and refusals. The pair fighting for the same air, even as they did the same in their fruitless battle to prove some otherwise imperceivable difference in strength.

In that closeness, as each trembled on the very edge of collapse, suddenly it happened. Their lips met — their lips pressed. And in a blink, such a light accidental brushing became more. Their fingers releasing and palms pulling apart as Kat moved her hands to take soft holds of her rival’s hair. Each of the two passion-drunk wrestlers kissing wildly and wantonly.

Their tongues diving into each other’s mouths and swirling together as if they had waited years — no, their entire lives to kiss one another.

In that moment of shameful cessation and satisfied desires did they melt. Each, as their hardness turned soft, almost laughing — almost giggling into their meeting of mouths. Not because there was humor in it. Not because their struggle had suddenly become a joke. But instead because they could not believe it — could not believe each other or themselves.

What had happened? What were they doing? Neither had an answer, and yet still … they remained. Their eyes closed as they held one another. The hair on their arms raising as goosebumps beneath took up residence. Neither counting the seconds or perhaps the minutes they spent there together. Bound in weakness and desire — strain and seduction. And though the kiss, their unexpected off-plan kiss, could not have been hotter. Could not have been better, eventually and with sudden happening, did it end.

Their lips pulling apart as Kat let loose a loud and pain-induced groan. One drug out of her by Jennifer, who unlike her opponent, had been preparing and wrapping as their beautiful, star-crossed kiss continued. The Latina coiling her arms around Kat and lifting her not only off the mat but into a tight bearhug.

A bearhug she secured as The Doll’s legs lifted off the ground and hung on either side of The Better Woman’s body.

“You…. Bitc—aaarrrgggghhh” Was all the strawberry blonde could muster as she leaned back in Jenn’s grasp. The hands of the former having moved, from their previous soft placement in Jennifer’s hair during their kiss, to the squeezing arms of the same.

“Sorry! I-I swear we’ll kiss later. I just … I just have to beat you first. Yummy, by … the … way.” Still peppy and yet broken by pauses of effort, Jenn explained and promised, as she used what little she had left of her strength to push the wind out of Katherine’s lungs.

She, even as she applied pressure, moving. Draining her opponent as she took one trembling step after another. The brunette stumbling forward, inch-by-inch, as she cradled and carried her rival.

The brunette not intending to hold The Doll in one place indefinitely, in a bearhug until she surrendered, but only until she — well, THEY made it.

From their position in the center of the ring, to the nearest corner. A journey that seemed to take an eternity, both for she who carried and also for she who suffered and weakened with every step. The subtle bounce and drop inherent in every heavy movement forward siphoning off more and more of the WWN’s poster girl’s energy, focus, and strength.

The golden goddess being almost lost to the world when finally the brunette struggled once more, not against The Doll herself, but against her own fatigue. The Latina, at that moment, not knowing which opponent she knew better.

The blonde grappler she held in her arms or the fatigue that slowed her as she tried to lift the same onto the top turnbuckle. A turnbuckle off which Kat leaned, as if she might collapse at any moment. She being barely consciousness at the moment. Her lungs forcibly emptied and her brain oxygen-starved.

For that, Jenn had a plan too. A counter for that instability. As after her opponent, who groaned and wobbled from fatigue, the Latina climbed. The brunette pressing her own topless body against Kat’s to keep her from falling face-first off of the top turnbuckle, as she scaled the ropes of the corner.

It was hard, that placement. In fact, Jennifer felt like she might collapse herself. And though her own exhaustion threatened, the Latina fought it off as she reached for Kat’s arms and prepared to hit the same with a superplex from the top rope.

A superplex that Jennifer felt would end either the match or The Doll’s resistance. And so she hooked, one arm and then another, lifting and then climbing up until both wrestlers stood shakily. Wobbly. The great impact of the high risk move seemingly imminent.

But just before The Better Woman was to lift once again, and make the maneuver she saw in her mind real, Kat struck. The blonde driving her fist into Jennifer’s bare midsection once and then again.

“Unnghh” Was the only uttering Jennifer could make. A sound of pain that came a blink before Kat pulled herself out from under the brunette’s and pushed.

A push that sent the Latina grappler from her stand on the top rope, into the air, and then crashing down to the mat below. Jenn’s landing being as awkward and momentum killing as she had ever experienced.

Broken though The Better Woman was, The Doll was no different. She too falling, though not off the top rope, but down to her ass in a sit atop the turnbuckle. There, she sat. There she rested. Shaking her head and sweat-wet hair in one direction and then the other as she tried to find something — anything that would help her continue on.

Yes, the blonde had the advantage. Yes, her opponent seemed done. But at that moment, Kat was barely able to breathe — barely able to think, let alone finish off a woman who had drug her through hell.

And so for a moment, they each remained. Jennifer crumbled on the mat just next to the ring’s ropes, and Kat in a seated position atop the corner. Each trying to recover and remain.

Until finally, each began to stir. The brunette using the ring ropes next to her to pull herself up from the mat, and Kat to bring herself, once again, to a wobbly stand atop the top turnbuckle again.

In sequence, Jennifer made it to her feet, just before The Doll turned herself around to face the outside of the ring. The former looking up with unfocused eyes just as the latter, with every bit of strength she had left, leaped up into the air, and into a moonsault.

A moonsault that she had done before, though with disastrous consequences. Track record be damned, she took the chance and flew. The blonde making a mid-air flip, before making a near-miraculous landing. Not in a crash of body-against-body, but onto her feet just behind the still-rope holding Better Woman.

Even more astounding, and in a stroke of genius, as Kat landed, she extended her left arm and wrapped it around Jennifer’s neck. A wrap the blonde used to drag the brunette back, and as the former dropped down, hard against the latter’s extended and foot-fraced knee.

The move itself, one that drove Jenn’s thoracic spine into Kat’s kneecap, was devastating. But it was only a means to The Doll’s end. A dragon sleeper. One Kat cinched in, not only perfectly, but deep.

And though golden grappler had her brown-haired opponent held, that same opponent had hope. As her left hand, from when she pulled herself up, still held the middle rope. And with her body suddenly thrown back, and situation suddenly grim, she held onto that lifeline as tight as she possibly could. Knowing it was her saving grace, and that the ring would soon count.

“One….” And it did.

“Two….” Jennifer just had to hold on….

“Three….” Just wait for Kat to let her loose…..

“Four….” Just as the Latina had earlier in the match, when Kat had the rope.

“Five!” But The Doll didn’t release — didn’t let go, and instead just held on. Bending Jennifer back across her knee, as she sunk her choking left arm deeper and deeper beneath Jennifer’s chin.

Come on, announce it. Rope break or disqualification, Jennifer’s mind begged, though her lips didn’t bring those thoughts voice. But the seemingly magic ring, one with technology unlike Jennifer had ever seen, made no such announcement. It leaving the brunette to her blonde opponent’s mercy.

A mercy that Kat did not offer, as she instead poured it on. She keeping her left bicep pressed tightly against Jennifer’s throat as tanned top act of the Women’s Wrestling Network herself fought to remain upright.

“You’re…. You’re done, bitch…. Give it up.” The Doll spoke, as she found herself finally back in firm control.

And though she was, Jennifer still held out. “No … I have … the … rope….” Though she could barely breathe, let alone speak, the brunette choked out her words. Telling her opponent something she already knew. Something, that should have forced her to release her dragon sleeper.

A reminder of rule and possession that Kat ignored. “Fuck…. The…. Rope….”

It being made clear that her holding of the rope meant nothing to her dragon-sleeper applying opponent, Jenn let it go. She moving both of her hands to Kat’s choking arm and pulling. Desperately. Weakly. As moment after moment began to drift and fuse into a cloud of pain and dissipating consciousness.

“Give.” The Doll demanded, though her voice came in a whisper.

“Give….” It came again with a tremble, somewhere in a haze of black speckles that appeared before Jennifer’s rapidly blinking eyes.

Eyes which began to close in one long blink after another. Blinks that sped towards a passing from conscious to un. But just as such came to take The Better Woman, The Doll loosened her arm and let the former take a deep, desperate breath.

A breath taken as the Latina’s eyes shot open, her bicep-brought suffocation relenting. And though she had been allowed to walk back from the precipice of darkness towards which she had been marching, suddenly she was put back onto the same road. As after having allowed Jennifer to breath, Kat tightened her bicep once again, she cinching her dragon sleeper deep once more.

“Say it….” The voice was cold, even if it shook with exhaustion. Certain of purpose if not power. It coming and searing one truth into The Better Woman’s mind. That their match, as tiring and intense as it had been, would not end until she said it. Until the agreement-seeking newcomer gave in to the woman whose approval she needed.

Jennifer could fight it. The pain of having her rival’s knee digging painfully into her back. The oxygen being denied to her not just at that moment, but the next. But she could never escape. She was too broken. Too tired. And she and her opponent were too equal.

There would be no overpowering or outmoving. She was stuck. Trapped. And too weak to earn her freedom. And so, with no hope left, and the prospect of lingering their on the edge of unconsciousness until she passed out or Kat tired, The Latina lifted her left arm and tapped on the former’s arm.

Submission though it was, Kat only hissed in reply. “Fuck that, say it….. Tell me you give up.”

After all they had put each other through, how close their match had been, and how Kat had earned her victory, Jennifer chaffed at the idea of speaking her surrender. But as the speckles black dots returned to her vision and she once again felt herself drifting, the newest signee of the WWN gave in.
“I….” She choked out before pausing. “I give….”

If Kat could have, she would have held Jennifer there atop her knee — there under her choking arm forever. But she was too spent. Too drained by their match. And so at the same moment the words were spoken, The Doll released. Letting her opponent drop down to the mat in a defeated clump.

The match was over. A match unlike either had ever had before had ended. Each of the two grapplers taking a moment to just to breathe. Jennifer gasping through coughs as Katherine knelt next to her in silence.

Neither speaking or trying to leave the ring or each other. Instead just recovering from the match of their lives. A match seen by noone. A match Kat had never expected.

It was that surprise of parity and equality of struggle that made The Doll’s blood boil, even in victory. Yes, she had won, but barely. Yes, she had gotten her opponent’s submission, but only by cheating. Then there was the kiss, one she could not push out of her mind for more reasons than she could even fathom.

Driven by such frustrations and thoughts, Kat, when she had recovered enough to do so, surged. The blonde grappler grabbing Jennifer’s wrists as she moved atop the still gasping Latina.

“We’re not done here, ‘Better Woman’….” Insisted The Doll as she straddled Jennifer’s face, and pinned her arms to the mat beneath her thighs.

“I do choose you … to lick my FUCKING pussy.” As she spoke, the blonde moved her right arm from Jennifer’s secured arms to her own bottoms. Bottoms she deftly pulled to the side, exposing her own shaven and sweat covered sex.

A sex she then brought down on top of the defeated Latina’s effort-dried lips.

Lips which moved to form words of argument, anger, and refusal just before they were buried deep in the wet confines of Kat’s kitty.

Her words cut off, Jennifer still struggled. Still writhed between her rival’s thighs. But she was too tired and too drained by their match to break free.

Trapped though she was, she wouldn’t — she didn’t. No terms had been discussed. No punishment or reward like this for the winner or the loser.

Resist though she did…. Refuse though she did to offer her tongue or become Kat’s sex slave, the latter still rode. Still drug. Still grinded her effort and struggle wet sex over Jennifer’s lips and face. Those lips that had pressed to hers, no matter how briefly.

If she hadn’t been so turned on by their match. And hadn’t found herself so intoxicated by she and Jennifer’s parity, she would have forced the brunette to comply with her wishes. But that would require waiting and breaking. And Katherine hadn’t the will or energy for either.

She wanted it. She needed it. To get off. To release all that had been building within her. And so she fucked Jennifer’s face, with or without her assistance or acceptance.

The Doll’s hands moving to the bested Better woman’s hair and pulling it hard and painfully as the river-wet valley of the former slid back and forth across the latter’s beautiful face.

A face that scowled and bent in anger, as the body attached thereto struggled to wiggle free. Jennifer bridging on her toes, once and then again, trying to throw Kat off. Turning her lower body and kicking her legs desperately to try to get free.

But through each and every the Kat just continued, holding her place atop her writhing rival and dragging herself back and then forward. The blonde driving herself closer and closer to orgasm, even as Jennifer whimpered and raged beneath her.

Sounds and sensations that only helped — only aided in The Doll’s assent to the mountain top. There was just something about owning Jennifer. About dominating her cruelly, after such a hard fought and close match that drove Katherine wild. Not only wild, but after only a few more moments, to an orgasm that shook the golden grappler to her very core.

“FU-FU-FU-FFFUUUUUUCCCCCKKKKKKKKK!!!!!” Through a stuttering curse, Kat came hard and long, her body shaking and quivering atop Jennifer. The pleasure-bought juices of one pass through the once-dried lips of the other as thrusts slow and then cease — as moans quiet and then end.

It was only then than Kat had silenced it. Drained it. The immediate need that she felt in her body, mind, and soul to punish Jennifer for her insolence in asking — in challenging — in even speaking to her.

Her demons fed, at least for the moment, Kat just remained. Letting herself rest as Jennifer languished and lingered in it — her own defeat and humiliation. The blonde letting her own juices slide down the brunette’s cheeks, into her mouth, and down her once choke-closed throat.

Finally, however, when ‘The Better Woman’s squirming had ceased, Kat lifted herself up. Peeling her release-glued sex from her defeated opponent’s face.

Free from the confines of her opponent’s pressing and oppressive pussy, Jennifer closed her eyes and rolled to her side. She trying to hide herself, in whatever way she could, from Katherine.

But as the brunette turned, the blonde above her lifted a leg, and then after planting her bare foot, she forced Jennifer to roll once more onto her back.

What more? Jennifer wondered. Hadn’t she suffered enough already? But as she asked herself those questions, Kat answered.

The blonde lifting her already pressing foot and moving it up until her toes hovered just above Jennifer’s lips. There she left them, as she demanded.

“Lick them.” There was only cruelty in Kat’s voice, but excitement. Yes, she had beaten Jennifer. Yes, she had ridden her face to orgasm. But now she wanted her to give in as she hadn’t before.

To lick her toes, and submit in the most humiliating way The Doll could think of. And though she hoped, and wanted Jennifer to do it — to extend her tongue and lavish her pressing toes with attention, the Latina resisted still.

“No….” The brunette turning her head away from the foot, as she muttered.

“Do it, bitch….” Kat demanded as she stood above Jennifer, her beautiful hanging breasts framing her malicious smile. “Do it and I’ll ‘choose you’”.

Kat’s words stabbed into Jennifer’s heart like a forge-hot dagger. They and their meaning dragging the brunette’s head back around, leaving her to glare up at the blonde as she asked weakly — Kat’s toes waiting just above her mouth. “Don’t, please….”

“Lick. Them. Or it’s back to the indies, scrub….” Could she make good on that threat? Would Brooke and the WWN just give up on her with Kat’s say so? Jennifer couldn’t be sure, but she also would never find out. As after a short pause, one in which The Better Woman and The Doll looked deep into each other’s eyes, measuring the other’s resolve, the brunette finally gave in. She grabbing the blonde’s lingering foot and pulling it down to her extending tongue.

A tongue that drug slowly and softly up and down each of Kat’s toes. But just as it seemed she had finished, Katherine asked for more. “Suck on them….”

Bitch! Jennifer wanted to shout — wanted to scream. And though for a moment, she thought about it. About letting loose her newly found fury and attacking Kat. But once more, Jennifer decided to do as she was told. She taking Kat’s toes into her mouth and sucking one toe after another. Not quickly, or half-heartedly, but thoroughly — she never letting her eyes break from her victorious rival’s.

“Mmmm, good little jobber bitch, aren’t you.” The words came like a coo. Like a moan. They each betraying the enjoyment the standing blonde got out of the submissive wrestler sucking on her toes.

That is until suddenly those toes pulled back, fired forward, and in a hard kick, landed in the middle of Jennifer’s forehead. A blow that sent the brunette back down to the mat, once again in a clump as Kat turned away from her beaten and broken opponent and walked away. Back to the dressing room, she having won, even if she had found far more than a match.

To Be Continued in When Life Starts: Chapter 4Click Here to Read It!

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2 thoughts on “More Than a Match by Rival’s Rapture

  1. markuswolf says:

    Much to love about this story RR, and it has your signature style all over it 🙂

    I love the battle of physical similarities as well as contrasting personalities. Perfect play on the title, which has several meanings.

    It will be interesting to see where this match leads next.


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