Fetish Pro Wrestling Ch. 03

Fi's music fades. A few seconds pass before a "WHOOOOOO!! Hold up! Hold up!" blares from the speakers, the synth and bass beats of Enrique Iglesias' "I Like It" bumping the party up a notch. "And her opponent," Ness continues, "from The Jersey Shore, at 5'2" tall, 107lbs, 34D 24 36 and 31 years old, Abbi SUMMER!" Abbi pushes past the entrance curtain with an eye-roll so exaggerated the far end of the studio can see it, despite the dark eyeshadow around her almond eyes. Hair so neutral-brown it defies any description but "brown" flows past her shoulders, teasing her shoulder blades and beige nipples. A small triangular "landing strip" points at the top of her bare slit, "in case boys need help figuring out where to put it." Glittering gold sneakers sparkle like sunlight dancing on a lake.

"Wow, I thought you were good at resting bitch face, Ness -- I hate to say it, but Abbi even beats you at that!" Glittering gold shoes clapping on the rubber mats, Abbi stalks her way to ringside, studiously ignoring the fans along the aisle. Halfway to ringside, a hand touches her arm; a heavy, balding neckbeard with a little donut of gray hair covering his temples regards her with a smirk. The exaggerated eye-roll makes another appearance, her right hand clamps down on the offending wrist and twists, and the neckbeard's face crumples in agony a moment later.

"If you EVER -- EVER touch me again, you fuckin' creep-o," Abbi's nostrils flare, almond eyes reduced to glaring slits. Her Jersey is harsh, almost nasal. "I'm gonna break this off," she wrenches on his wrist, dropping the man to his knees. The nearby audience gives them their "space", and she gives his wrist another twist, looking down her nose at him: "Then, I'm gonna stuff it up your ass, ya fuckin' got it?!"

He nods, whimpering. She shoves his hand away, and stalks the rest of the way to ringside -- no other hands slip past the barricade. She steps up the solid steel stairs and steps in under the middle rope, sparing less than a glance at Fiona, her music fading out.

"For those who are new to FPW, audience participation isn't against the rules -- but it is 'at your own risk'," Nessi warns.

"Abbi seems happy to be back in the ring tonight," John snarks.

She leans over the top rope, the cable cradling her breasts, and points in Fiona's general direction. "Yeah, I'm so fucking happy to be back in the ring, to suck the Scottish Squirt til she spurts. Twice even." A bitch face has never been so restful, and the boom mic overhead carries her straining voice to the speakers. "I mean, it's whatever. If she's got a learning disability, I'm fine with teaching the lesson til she fuckin' gets it." Boos crash on her like a tidal wave. Shaking her head, she shoves off the rope and turns back toward Ivy and Fiona, the two shorter women watching her with arms crossed in a black/white mirror of each other.

"Ready, yet," Ivy asks.

"Bitch, I was born ready. Let's make this quick, I gotta get my 8 hours of sleep in tonight."

Nessi rings the bell. Fi's arms uncross, and the small Scot circles with Abbi. Olive breasts and porcelain cock sway opposite each other. Abbi shoots in, hands launching for Fi's shoulders. The Scot steps back, clamping both hands on Abbi's right wrist, twisting and yanking, using her momentum against her for an arm-drag. The olive guidette lands on her ass, rumbling the boards -- and the audience -- before scrambling back up to her gold-glittered sneakers.

"Alright, alright," she nods, brushing her hair back before cupping her breasts, adjusting them. "Try that again."

"I have'na problem with that," Fiona offers, little legs pumping as she rushes back in, grabbing the other wrist this time. Abbi's ready -- as Fi's fingers clamp down on her wrist, she tugs, pulling the smaller herm in. Rounded muscles stand out as she slips her arm over Fi's shoulder, her right palm slapping over Fiona's bare slit, curling fingers past the Scot's entrance. Fi's blue eyes blink as she finds herself across Abbi's chest, before everything spins, the fingers slip from her warming entrance, and she lands flat on her back with a BOOM! She blinks up at the lights, coughing. "Ow."

Abbi deposits Fiona in the middle of the ring, glaring down at the little red-haired inconvenience. Moments pass, and she drops to her knees, sprawling across Fiona's tiny breasts. Her right hand cups Fi's right thigh, left hand slapping over her cheeks. Her middle fingers dig in FI's pink ring, her thumb slipping back inside the herm's entrance. Ivy drops next to them, the crowd booing. "ONE!" Abbi's wrist claps Fi's cock against her flat belly, rolling over it, "tempering" her twitching claymore.

Fi blinks, lips parted, a sharp gasp slipping past as Abbi's fingers batter their way inside her, nails scritching on her prostate. "Nnnhhhhh," she complains, as Abbi's fingers and thumb try to trap the little gland between them, massaging her walls. "TWO," claps Ivy, as Fi's lithe left leg pulls against her belly.

"Nae," Fiona grits her teeth, little muscles leaping out as she explodes out of the pin, shoving Abbi off and tearing her fingers from her holes!

"TWO COUNT!" Ivy holds up a V of fingers.

"Wow. A pin attempt after just a simple bodyslam? That's insulting!" As John complains, Abbi peels Fi up by her bright hair, using it to whip her across the ring. The little herm rumbles the boards, sprinting across the canvas. She bounces back, ducking as Abbi's arm swooshes overhead, grazing her pale back. She bounds into the far ropes and comes rushing back again, the crowd roaring at the fast-paced match.

"It's also kind of the point, John. Abbi's trying to get into Fi's head -- heads," a quiet laugh pauses Ness a moment, "a pin that early says 'It's not going to take much to put you away,' and she did get a two-count out of it." On the rebound, Fiona leaps, and it's Abbi's turn to duck, avoiding a hurricanrana. Fi's plaid sneakers bang on the canvas as she lands, legs pumping, carrying her to the ropes once again.

Abbi turns, following the little fiery streak. As the Fireball bounces off the ropes, she slams right into the guidette's glittering gold sneaker! It catches Fi right between the breasts and follows her down with a kick-stomp that sends a BOOM! through the boards. Fi's arms jolt, her legs shooting straight up in the air as Abbi grinds her underfoot.

"Stomping is one good way to put a fire out," John laughs. The crowd gives him another #DadJokes groan. Ivy dives in as Fiona's legs bam-bam back to the canvas. When Ivy raises her hand for the first count, Abby raises her foot.

"'Ground and pound' is a pretty effective strategy on high-flyers, most of the time," Nessi offers; as Ivy palms the canvas to get back up, Abbi stomps Fi's chest, grinding her sole once again. With a sigh, Ivy raises her hand -- the glittery gold sneaker does likewise.

"Sorry-not-sorry, that's just too much fun," Abbi quips, delivering a vicious one-two stomp to Fiona's pale breasts before turning away to strut around the ring. She cups her hand to her ear as if she can't hear the boos echoing through the studio. Fiona rolls on her side and curls up, coughing air back into her lungs.

"Abbi stomped her fire out, now she's just a ball," John laughs -- the crowd's too busy booing Abbi to groan.

"Hey! Everyone!" Nessi's standing, her voice booming through the speakers like a Jersey-tinged voice of God. The boos die down. "Let's do something useful: 'Let's go Fi-ONA! Let's go Fi-ONA! Let's go Fi-ONA!" The chant catches on, filling the studio with hope, trying to rekindle the Scot's fire. Fi rolls on her front, palming the canvas, fiery hair brushing the canvas -- and Abbi's fingers twine through it once again, pulling the recovering Scot back to her plaid sneakers and holding her doubled-up in front of her.

Abbi's right knee and thigh SMACK! across Fiona's breasts. The herm's sneakers leave the canvas from the stiff impact. SMACK! Abbi's left leg crashes against Fi's breasts -- her cock, thighs, and sock-covered knees wobbling as her soles touch back down. SMACK!! Fi's mounds burn punishment-pink as Abbi's right leg drives into them again, her socked knees bamming on the canvas as she collapses, Abbi's fingers in her hair holding her head up. Blue eyes blink up at Abbi, the guidette's dark hair dancing around her shoulders, "Nuh-uh, you don't get a break yet, girl." Tugging on Fi's bright hair, she pulls the herm back up to her sneakers.

"This is AW-FUL! This is AW-FUL! This is AW-FUL!" the crowd roars, as Abbi's right hand slips between Fi's pale cheeks, fingers crooking in her asshole, thumb barging into the herm's pussy. Abbi turns, putting her own back to ring center, and slips her left arm over the back of Fi's narrow neck. Fi's claymore bobs against her wrist as she tugs, yanking the small herm up-up-up, her bright orange-red hair flowing over Abbi's olive skin. Nessi sits as the guidette holds the herm vertical.

The two teeter over backward, Fi's back crashing to the canvas first with a crack-BOOM!

"Owwww," Ness sighs in sympathy, "a vicious vertical double-penetration suplex turns Fi back into a smolder."

"Abbi's not wasting time, this time," John sits on the edge of his seat, as Abbi rolls on top of Fiona. Her left arm snakes down and crooks under Fi's thigh, helping the fingers buried in Fi's holes lift the herm's hips; the tip of her claymore traces an arc across her flat belly, like a metronome swaying to the beat of Abbi's fingers massaging at her walls. Ivy's ebony hand claps, "ONE!"

Fi's breath hitches as Abbi's fingers and thumb rub together, the thin flesh of her walls and her gland between them, rolling underneath nails, fingertips, and thumbtip. The Smoldering Scot's claymore leaks a drop, the sway turning it into a parabolic smear -- another joins it, brightening the warm, gooey arc tracing across Fi's belly. "TWO!!"

"Nae, nae, nae," Fi pleads, as Abbi's fingers and thumb grind her prostate between the thin slickness of her walls. The hot, wet streak grows, another drop smearing across it -- then another -- as Ivy's hand slams down again. "THREE!!" Pale body bunching, Fi's muscles leap out as she kicks her way out of the pin, shoving the bigger guidette off, Abby's fingernails raking her prostate on the way out. Fi rolls on her front, sneakers kicking the canvas.

"Fiona Blair kicks out at three, just refusing to give Abbi the first fall of this match."

"Just like her theme song says, 'the heart of a fighter'! Come on Fiona," Ness encourages.

Abbi kneels, slapping the canvas and fixing Ivy with a baleful stare. "Why is it so hard to count to five? It's literally most of your fucking job, and you do it a few times every night. It's super-fucking-simple. Watch: One," she holds up her middle finger, "to," her forefinger joins it, "five," she holds an open hand out to Ivy. That earns her a few chuckles and a #MomJokes groan from the crowd.

"You should have Fiona give you some 'toughness lessons' or something, Ness," John smirks. Abbi turns her attention to Fiona, her palm clapping over the back of the redhead's head, fingers curling through her locks. Abbi rises to her feet, dragging the battered, leaking herm along. "That last pin probably would have put you away."

"Except not! I've kicked out of more punishment -- physical and sexual -- than that!" As Ness tries to defend herself, Fiona struggles against Abbi's grip. The guidette drags the stumbling Fireball along behind her to the stairs-corner, using her hair to toss her back-first against the turnbuckles.

John laughs, "Right up until someone stuffs a tongue in your ass. Then you 'take a licking, and quit kicking' -- out." Fi's leaning against the buckles. Abbi's hands cup her thin thighs and lift, sitting the herm on the top turnbuckle. Her lips make a dramatic O before dropping over Fiona's dripping tip, the Fireball's eyelids half-closing in dazed shock, the crowd groaning in sympathy. Wet slurps drift to the boom mic as Abbi's face bobs the full length of Fiona's claymore, base to tip.

"Have you ever had your ass eaten out, John?" Abbi keeps Fi's head trapped between her lips, lashing it with rough tongue before sliding full lips back to her base.

"No, but it must be amazing just going by the effect it has on you," he laughs. Fiona's chest heaves, pale parted lips pouring pants as Abbi swallows her sword.

"Ok then -- so you don't even know what you're talking about. It's too bad you're such an antagonistic asshole, or you might have a shot at finding -" A cheer rips through the crowd as Fiona's legs slide over Abbi's shoulders, her sneaker heels digging in Abbi's back as she thrusts her hips against Abbi's lips, tipping the guidette's head back. Another hard kick-thrust has Abbi backpedaling, golden sneakers rattling the boards as her arms wheel, trying to keep her balance.

The two teeter over again, this time with Fiona riding Abbi's face as the two crash to the canvas. Abbi's head is sandwiched between Fi's hips and the ring boards, the Fireball's claymore stabs against the back of the guidette's throat with a thundering BOOM!! that reverberates through the studio. Everyone's on their feet, even John and Nessi, screaming, cheering, clapping, as Fiona slips her cock from Abbi's open mouth. She turns, planting her socked knees on Abbi's nipples, hands pulling olive thighs under her arms, tucking them against her sides. Fi's tongue follows the little triangular landing strip, slashes past Abbi's lips, and burrows in her entrance. "ONE!!" claps Ivy, her middle finger shoots up.

Abbi coughs, the back of her throat spasming from the hard, face-fucking landing. Her head throbs, and that little blossom of warmth flares to life as Fi's tongue slashes through her walls like a warrior cleaving her way through a room. She tries to tense her thighs for a kick-out, the muscles twitch, rolling her hips against Fiona's tongue, instead. "TO!!" Ivy holds up a V.

"Is this it?! Fiona isn't heavy but even 86lbs landing on your head can do a ton of damage," Ness speculates.

"Three more counts and Fi wins the first fall!" Everyone's still on their feet, the studio echoing with the crowd's roaring count-along. Abbi's hips roll against Fiona's face, grinding her folds on Fi's tongue as it devours the trapped guidette. Ivy's hand descends, the crowd counting-along: "THREE! - IVE!" Ivy's voice cuts through at the end, as she holds up five fingers and calls for the bell.

The audience's roar turns into a murmur of confusion. "Can she do that? Is that legal," John questions. Fi's tongue scours Abbi's walls, the guidette distracted by the flowering warmth in her lower belly, and not realizing Ivy's stopped counting.

Nessi rings the bell, once. "And the first fall, by PINFALL, goes to Fiona BLAIR! And yes, yes she can, John."

The bell and announcement snap Abbi out of the pink fuzzy cocoon of pleasure. Her thighs tense, and she shoves Fiona off. Her left hand's holding the back of her head, her right's holding her saliva-slicked lips as she rolls to her sneakers and faces Ivy. "What the actual FUCK?!?!?" The audience doesn't need the boom mic and speakers to hear the thundering rage.

Ivy steps right in, planting her forefinger right between Abbi's dark nipples. "Bitch, I called it just like you told me to. Don't cry that you were the one pinned when I did it." A ripple of laughter peals around the studio.

"You can't fucking do that! A pinfall's five counts. FIVE!"

"And I counted 'FIVE' when I called for the bell. Just like you told me to." Her forefinger leaves Abbi's chest -- and her middle finger appears between them. "One." Her forefinger joins it, "to," and her hand splays in front of Abbi's face, "five, bitch. Now talk to the hand if you don't wanna get disqualified, or maybe talk to her," she points over Abbi's shoulder, "if you wanna lose."

Abbi's eyes widen. The olive guidette turns, hunching in preparation for -- whatever's coming. Panicked eyes search for her opponent, finding her on the top turnbuckle. The little herm launches, turning in midair. Abbi's eyes become pinpricks of brown in saucers of white, her lips parting in slow motion. Fi's back is to her now -- and the herm's lithe arm wraps around her neck from underneath, her weight dragging Abbi down with her. Abbi's front splats on the canvas with a BOOM!, breasts exploding in pain, her jaw clacking shut as it hits Fiona's shoulder.

The crowd roars to their feet as Abbi's world goes gray. John's frantic voice squeals the speakers, "The Scottish Cutter! Fi's finisher!! Will she get another fall right here and now?!" She rolls off of Fiona's shoulder and completely over, stopping flat on her front in the middle of the ring. Fiona rolls to her fours, crawling between Abbi's spread legs. Her claymore bobs and weaves in the bright lights, glistening with Abbi's saliva still. A drop oozes from her tip and leaves a dark spot on the canvas at the apex of Abbi's legs.

Fi inches her hips forward, poking her tip between Abbi's rounded cheeks. Another drop oozes as her tip prods the guidette's ridged ring, battering it. Abbi lifts her head, blinks in a haze of semi-consciousness, a questioning "oooh?" spilling from her lips as Fi's claymore stabs her heated, dark depths. The Fireball reaches, grabbing Abbi's arms at the elbows, and wrenches back on them. The guidette's back complains as Fiona arches her backward, lifting her shoulders from the canvas, dragging her nipples across the rough material as Fi's hips grind against her rippling cheeks.

"YES! Fiona's got her," Nessi enthuses, the crowd roaring along with her: "Pure. Dead. BRILLIANT!!"

"Nobody's broken out of Fiona's sexual finisher yet, and Abbi's out of it and stuck in the middle of the ring, all that's left is for Abbi to flood the canvas, and Fiona to deliver a load of Scottish Cream Pies!"

Abbi's gold-glittered sneakers scrape the canvas as Fiona's cock slashes and stabs deep inside her quivering asshole. The blossoming warmth in her lower belly turns into a field of pink fuzz, spreading up her spine and belly, joining with the electric buzz of her nipples grating on the canvas. She blinks. Pants. Tries to swallow -- her mouth's so dry. A hand taps her shoulder. "Abbi? I said, 'do you give up?'"

She bites her lip. "Nnn-no," the guidette manages, shaking her head. Fiona's cock surges in her asshole, the little herm's hips slapping against her cheeks -- tap! slap! plap! The crowd's roaring. Fiona's panting in time with her "little" thrusts that feel like her tip's tickling her intestines. Pink fuzz and electric buzz meet in her chest, swirling into a potent mix before climbing her spine.

Fiona's little muscles stand out as she uses Abbi's arms to lever herself deep inside the trapped guidette. Her cock's throbbing, juices boiling in her depths as the balls buried by her ovaries churn. Tiny gasps sip air with each cheek-clapping thrust -- she stabs her claymore deep in her opponent, swirling the head in a circle against Abbi's trembling walls.

Fuzz-buzz rises, almost to Abbi's brain, when Fiona stirs her cock deep in Abbi's asshole, touching off a fault line of pleasure and sending a tremor through Abbi's muscles. It rocks the fuzz-buzz into her brain: a sharp inhale, parted lips, wide eyes, and a jet of juices halfway to the ropes announce the orgasm. Ivy touches her shoulder again. "Abbi? Give up?"

"Nnnnn..." she trails off.

"She squirted! This has to be it! How much will Abbi take before admitting defeat," John asks.