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Wrestling Girls: Part 2 - Ember

PostPosted: Tue Jun 19, 2012 1:53 pm
by mwcooper
Ember slid the black spandex leotard over her grey tights; the feeling of the suit caused an oddly cool sensation that was electric at the same time. Wave after wave of the energy coursed through her body as the suit stretched over her hips. The thong back slipped neatly between her toned cheeks, stopped only by the thin nylon material that adorned her legs. She slid one arm, then the other, through the tank-style straps that went over her shoulders. The suit formed to all the right spots and revealed more than enough of her perfect, slender 5 foot 9 inch frame.

She sat herself before a lighted makeup mirror to touch up her charcoal eyeshadow. The glow enveloped her in the private dressing room she had earned three months prior by defeating the then reigning champion of the league. She was now the champion. It didn’t come with any belts, tiaras or other crap. What it did come with was respect and perks such as a private room and chaperoned outings away from the “factory”.

She ran her fingers through her purposely mussed blonde hair. The tousled locks falling just below her shoulder blades.

“Perfect,” she thought to herself as she reached for her black padded MMA-style gloves. She slipped each finger through the openings and strapped the velcro tightly around her wrists.

Rising from her cushioned seat, Ember took a long look at herself in the mirror; a pleasing smile lighted across her thin lips as she turned her back and craned her neck to get a view. She was very please with her appearance and her perfectly toned rear. The thong suit did well to show off the work she put into herself to keep her body in shape. She loved the way it let the audience see her body and yet not see it at the same time.

The leggy blonde turned and confidently strode through her dressing room door and into the hall where the lesser girls, the peons, got themselves ready and pondered their upcoming matches. She had no worries of her own; her opponent for the night was a rookie. A young girl who had never seen action in the ring and did not know how to please the crowd. She was not a gladiator like Ember. She was not a champion like Ember. She did not have a year’s worth of experience fighting like Ember.

Burgundy doors stood before her; waiting to be flung open at the announcement of her name. Waiting to welcome the gorgeous woman to the embrace of her fans.

“Ladies and gentlemen! I give you the opponent! Your one and only champion, Ember!”

The doors flung open as the spotlight hit her. Ember paused in the doorway, allowing all eyes in the arena to fall upon her and take in the sight of her magnificent form. Her head tilted back slightly, allowing a few locks of hair to fall over her left eye. Ember’s left hand went to her hip as she took her first steps towards the ring. Slowly, she gyrated her way towards the opponent who awaited her. She could see that the young one was nervous. The eyes of a sheep stared back at her, mouth slightly agape in a mixture of awe and fear at what was to come next. She would make quick and easy work of this one.

“I love you!” came a cry from the crowd. A cry that Ember acknowledged by stretching her arms out to the sides and turning a 360 while a seductive grin formed on red painted lips. Ember could have the men eating out of the palms of her hands if she so desired. While she was still required to mingle with the higher paying, thus more powerful, members; she had the opportunity to pick and choose whom she would be spending the evening with after the show. Such was another perk of being the champion. She loved knowing that she did not have to satisfy the needs of a fat, hairy mouth-breather. She had first pick of the litter and always chose the prime meat; after verifying that he was willing to pay the exorbitant amount charged for having their way with the champion.

Confidence radiated from her as she reached the metal stairs that lead to the ring apron. Kicking of the pair of black pumps she had put on before exiting her dressing room, she mounted and slowly climbed the stairs; making sure to keep her eyes trained on the audience. She swayed her hips and parted her lips in the manner that had been instilled in her by the Mistress. The men ate it up. Some sat silently with their hands in their laps; others seemed to pant with excitement and desire. Every man wanted her. She knew this and used it to her advantage every chance she could.

Ember stood, resting her back against the ropes, her arms stretched out against them. Moving her hips slowly, her stockinged feet slid apart as her body dropped inch by inch until she landed in a perfect split. The feminine area between her thighs gently touched down on the mat and rubbed itself against the canvas as her hips continued to move. She bent forward at the waist, suspending her upper body over the edge of the ring; providing the front row with a view of her ample cleavage. Arching her back, she moved herself back to an upright position. Her body traveled farther, the spandex of her suit stretching and thinning as her body moved. She still had all the flexibility she had from her youthful gymnastics days. Her arms grasped the bottom rope as she pulled herself, sliding under the rope and into the fighting area. Her legs remained in a split despite having her weight and the apron to aid in keeping them in position. Those same legs then rose, rigid and straight; ankles meeting, her toes in a perfect point. She slowly bent her knees as her hands ran over her body. She felt the soft material beneath her fingertips and adored the feeling. It sent a slight tickle through her when her black painted fingernails touched the second skin. That sensation that felt oh so right to her. Long ago she had discovered she possessed a spandex fetish and donned the material every chance she could get.

Rising to her feet, Ember once again extended her arms to the audience and was met with a round of applause with more than a few hoots and cat-calls resounding through the arena. She turned and marched to the corner opposite her opponent, her victim. She rested her back against the turnbuckles and waited; the bright lighting casting its glow upon the young woman.

“Oh!” Spoke the ring announcer in surprise. “It appears we have a last minute change to this match! I’ve just been informed that it is to be a no-holds-barred, knock out match!” The crowed erupted into a fervor at the announcement. “Each young lady,” he pointed towards Ember then Tracey, “may use any moves or tactics she can to render her opponent unconscious!” His grey silk suit shimmered slightly as he made the announcement.

Tracey’s eyes opened wide. She could not understand what had just happened. Could this be done? How could they change things without telling her? She was, at least somewhat, prepared for a wrestling match. She now envisioned a knock-down, drag-out catfight. She looked to her opponent, silently pleading with her.

Ember stared back. Cold, unfeeling grey eyes glared back. Eyes that let Tracey know she would receive no mercy. Ember’s neck arched back, her eyelids half closed as her lips parted and she awaited the ring of the bell.