Azazel VS Arianrod
Standard wrestling match
Hentai is allowed
Stepping out onto the gleaming arena floor, Arianrod takes a deep breath to calm her nerves. The spotlight illuminates her toned physique, accentuating her ample bust barely contained within the tight, low-cut top. Her short blonde hair frames her determined face as she surveys the crowd, their expectant gazes making her stomach flutter with a mix of excitement and trepidation.
The black skirt hugs her curves, flaring out at the hips before flowing down to mid-thigh, showcasing her long, shapely legs encased in thigh-high stockings held up by delicate garter straps. Black boots with a moderate heel complete her outfit, exuding both power and femininity.
Entering the ring on steady feet, Arianrod's eyes flicker around, taking in her surroundings one final time before she faces the announcer at ringside. As she climbs onto the turnbuckle, she strikes a pose, her blonde twintails cascading over her shoulders.
The crowd begins to chant, sensing the imminent start of her inaugural match. Arianrod meets their eyes, a silent acknowledgement of her gratitude for the opportunity. Her competitive spirit surges, filling her with unwavering confidence. With a determined nod to herself, she descends back into the center of the ring as her opponent's turn to make their entrance.
Lazily strolling towards the ring, Azazel saunters past the enthusiastic crowd, her green vest and white dress shirt complementing her relaxed demeanor. Her green eyes, hidden behind a veil of disinterest, scan the audience indifferently. Clad in thigh-high boots and fingerless gloves, she embodies a paradoxical blend of ruggedness and allure.
As she steps through the ropes, Azazel arches an eyebrow at her opponent, sizing her up with a languid gaze. Her full breasts strain against the fabric of her low-cut shirt, drawing subtle attention from the onlookers. She circles the ring slowly, her garter belt and green mini-skirt creating a tantalizing contrast against her pale skin.
Settling into a in front of Arianrod, Azazel crosses her arms over her chest, the black leather of her gloves a stark contrast to her otherwise muted appearance.
Smirking slightly, Azazel leans in closer to Arianrod, her voice low and teasing as she whispers, "I gotta say, you look mighty fine in that getup. Almost makes me want to ditch this whole wrestling thing and hit the bars instead."
She lets out a languid chuckle, her emerald eyes sparkling with mischief. "But hey, since we're stuck in here for now... How about we make a little wager? Loser buys the winner a drink after the match?"
Azazel's lips curve into a sly grin as she awaits Arianrod's response, clearly enjoying the chance to engage in some playful banter with her attractive opponent. Her fingers idly toy with the hem of her skirt, the motion both casual and flirtatious.
Arianrod feels a flush of warmth rise to her cheeks as Azazel's suggestive words linger in the air between them. Though tempted, she shakes her head firmly, a hint of embarrassment coloring her tone.
"Ah, I'm sorry to disappoint, Azazel, but I'm actually a married woman," Arianrod explains apologetically, her green eyes meeting those of her competitor with a sincerity that brooks no argument. Despite the obvious attraction, honor dictates she not entertain such invitations, especially with another woman.
Azazel's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, her smirk faltering momentarily. She hadn't expected that revelation, and it seems to throw her off kilter. Her gaze lingers on Arianrod's face, searching for any sign of deception, but finds none.
"Well, ain't that just peachy keen?" Azazel drawls sarcastically, her tone tinged with disappointment and a touch of bitterness. "Guess I'll have to find my post-match drinks elsewhere then." She sighs dramatically, rolling her eyes.
Despite the initial shock, Azazel quickly regains her composure, flashing a cheeky grin. "But don't worry 'bout me, sweetheart. I've got plenty of other prospects lined up, if you know what I mean." Her hands drift suggestively to her waist, emphasizing the curves of her body beneath the form-fitting clothing. "Just remember, when you're done playing the good wife, you know where to find me."
Arianrod rolls her eyes good-naturedly, a soft laugh escaping her as she playfully dismisses Azazel's provocations. But there's an undeniable sparkle of amusement in her emerald gaze as she smiles, a tiny dimple forming on her right cheek.
"Save the sales pitch for someone who bites, love," Arianrod quips lightly, her tone playful yet firm in its rebuke. She tosses her blonde twintails over one shoulder, standing tall and confident in the face of Azazel's flirtations.
At the sound of the bell, Arianrod springs into action, her competitive spirit igniting like a wildfire. She dashes across the mat, her lithe frame executing a series of rapid-fire punches designed to take Azazel off guard.
Rolling her shoulders fluidly, Azazel easily evades Arianrod's barrage of punches with a showy display of defensive acrobatics. However, in her overconfidence, Azazel leaves an opening - her focus drifting for just a heartbeat to sneer mockingly at Arianrod.
That lapse proves costly. In a lightning-quick reversal, Arianrod seizes the opportunity to slip behind her rival, grabbing Azazel in a tight sleeper hold that cranks her opponent's neck harshly to one side.
Azazel's cocky smirk morphs into an instant grimace of discomfort as Arianrod's skilled hold locks around her throat and shoulder. She strains against the leverage, her athletic body contorting in a desperate bid to break free.
"Tch! Cut that crap out!" Azazel hisses between clenched teeth, her fingernails digging into Arianrod's arms.
In a burst of exertion, Azazel thrashes violently in an attempt to loosen Arianrod's grip. Her elbow slices viciously forward, catching Arianrod dead-on in her exposed abdomen and forcing the breath from her lungs in a guttural "oof".
Reeling backward, gasping for air, Arianrod releases Azazel as pain throbs in her stomach. That momentary weakness gives Azazel the opportunity she needs. Snapping into offense, the voluptuous wrestler delivers a resounding kick to send Arianrod sprawling against the ropes.
Seizing control of the momentum, Azazel stalks Arianrod, each step measured and purposeful as she looms over her foe. Without hesitation, Azazel drives her boot into the exposed flesh of Arianrod's ribcage, delivering a brutal blow that sends shockwaves of agony through the smaller wrestler's frame.
Not content to simply stun her opponent, Azazel advances aggressively, aiming to capitalize on the advantage she has gained. Grabbing the front of Arianrod's skirt, Azazel wrenches her adversary towards the mat with incredible strength, pulling her in close before driving a knee brutally into Arianrod's vulnerable core. The impact is enough to buckle the other woman, sending her crumbling to the canvas under Azazel's dominating assault.
Winded and writhing from the merciless attack, Arianrod clutches her bruised midsection, trying to stifle the wave of pain threatening to overwhelm her senses. As she struggles to regain her footing, she fixes a defiant glare upon Azazel, refusing to let the dominant onslaught break her resolve.
With a surge of adrenaline fueling her determination, Arianrod swiftly rolls out of the way as Azazel aims another vicious strike. Before her opponent can recover, Arianrod shoots to her feet and launches herself at Azazel with a high-flying hurricanrana, slamming both women to the mat in a tangle of limbs.
As they grapple on the canvas, Arianrod seizes the chance to transition the hold, hooking her leg around Azazel's and flipping their positions. Arianrod ends up mounted atop her adversary, pinning Azazel's shoulders firmly to the mat as the referee swoops in to count the decisive fall.
Just as the referee's hand slams down for the three-count, Azazel kicks out with all her might, her muscular leg shooting straight up to defy the pin. The sudden movement jars Arianrod off balance, allowing Azazel to twist free from beneath her opponent.
Grunting from the effort, Azazel scrambles upright, her chest heaving with exertion. She shoots a defiant glare at Arianrod, her emerald eyes blazing with renewed energy and determination. "Not so fast, sweetheart," Azazel growls, advancing once more with a ferocious snarl. "I'm far from finished with you."
Seeing the hunger in Azazel's gaze, Arianrod knows this match is far from over. She rapidly fires off a series of rapid-fire jabs to keep her aggressive opponent at bay, using her quickness and agility to evade Azazel's retaliatory swings.
Azazel's iron-strong grip closes around Arianrod's wrist, halting the flurry of punches mid-air. With a swift, ruthless twist, Azazel reverses the momentum, sending Arianrod stumbling back with a startled yelp.
Seizing the opening, Azazel charges forward, tackling Arianrod to the mat in a crushing tackle. The force of the impact drives the wind from Arianrod's lungs as Azazel pins her down, straddling her opponent's chest with a triumphant smirk.
"Looks like the tables have turned, sweetheart," Azazel taunts, her gloved hand reaching up to grab Arianrod's throat in a vice-like grip. "Time for you to taste defeat..."
Panic sets in as Arianrod's air supply dwindles, her vision beginning to darken at the edges. She claws feebly at Azazel's unyielding grip on her throat, desperately trying to pry loose even a fraction of an inch, but to no avail. Azazel's chokehold is relentless, squeezing the life out of her with calculated precision.
Gasping for oxygen, Arianrod's struggling intensifies, but her movements grow weaker and less coordinated. Azazel maintains the suffocating pressure on Arianrod's windpipe, her green eyes glinting with dominance. The wrestlers' bodies grind together, the tension palpable as Arianrod's world narrows to just the oppressive constriction of her throat. Finally, the darkness claims Arianrod's consciousness, rendering her limp beneath her merciless attacker's grasp.
The shrill ringing of the bell echoes through the arena, signaling Azazel's hard-won victory. Still maintaining her smothering grip, she looks down at the limp form beneath her with a sense of satisfaction mixed with a dash of pity.
With a heavy sigh, Azazel eases her hold, allowing precious oxygen to flood back into Arianrod's stunned lungs. The victor sits back on her heels, panting lightly, her chest rising and falling in a rhythmic cadence. She drags a hand through her disheveled hair, surveying the aftermath of their intense bout.
A wicked grin spreads across Azazel's face as she beholds Arianrod's helpless state. Without hesitation, she leans in, capturing the unconscious woman's slack mouth in a deep, possessive kiss. Her tongue invades the warm cavern, exploring every recess with a sensual fervor that betrays her earlier reluctance.
Breaking away, Azazel trails her lips along Arianrod's jawline, nipping and sucking at the tender skin with a predatory intensity. Her hands roam freely over the prone body, cupping and kneading the supple breasts, sliding down to palm the feminine curves of Arianrod's hips and thighs.
Azazel's breathing grows ragged as she indulges in this forbidden act, her own arousal evident in the dampness gathering between her legs. Lost in the thrill of the taboo, she continues her lewd exploration, leaving no inch of Arianrod's vulnerable form untouched by her lustful attentions.
Emboldened by desire, Azazel's fingers make quick work of Arianrod's skirt and panties, peeling the fabric aside to expose the soft, pink flesh beneath.
With a husky moan, Azazel dives in, rubbing her thumb deliberately over the throbbing clit before delving between slick folds. Her middle finger sinks deep inside Arianrod's welcoming heat, pumping slowly as she savors the silky texture and gentle resistance.
Arianrod's eyelids flutter open as she's suddenly jolted back to awareness, her brain foggy and disoriented. It takes her a moment to process the situation - the unfamiliar surroundings, the weight pressing down on her body, and the intimate sensations assaulting her senses.
As clarity returns, Arianrod's shock transforms into indignation. She gazes up at Azazel with a scorching glare, her body tensing instinctively in defense. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Arianrod demands hotly, struggling against Azazel's grip and the violating touches.
Caught off guard by the sudden outburst, Azazel doesn't miss a beat in her depraved actions. As Arianrod tries to break free, she silences her protests with a deep, dominant kiss, thrusting her tongue past the smaller woman's parted lips.
At the same time, Azazel increases the pressure and pace of her ministrations, pounding her finger in and out of Arianrod's clenching pussy with unrestrained vigor. Her other hand grips the back of Arianrod's head, angling her to accept the invading tongue while she rides out the pleasure-pain fusion of forced penetration and oral domination.
Arianrod bucks wildly beneath Azazel, tears of humiliation streaming down her cheeks as she succumbs to overwhelming stimulation. Her inner walls convulse around the thrusting finger, the waves of pleasure crashing over her with no escape or reprieve.
"Ahhh... stop, please! This isn't... ah! Can't... uhhnghh..." she sobs between broken kisses, her pleas dissolving into desperate moans as the impending orgasm builds to a fever pitch. Helpless to resist, Arianrod yields to the unstoppable tide, letting it sweep her away into shattering release under Azazel's relentless assault.
As the intense pressure reaches its peak, Arianrod's body jerks uncontrollably, a scream caught in her throat. Wave after wave of ecstasy rips through her, the force of her climax so powerful that tears stream unchecked down her face.
"Oh gods... oh f-fuckkkk!" she wails, her voice breaking on a ragged sob. The sensation of Azazel's probing finger continues to stimulate her oversensitive nerves, prolonging the aftershocks until finally, Arianrod collapses limply onto the mat, utterly spent and trembling.
With a satisfied chuckle, Azazel withdraws her finger from Arianrod's still quivering sex, licking the digit clean of lingering juices. She gazes down at her panting, crimson-faced opponent with a self-assured smirk.
"That was certainly entertaining," Azazel purrs, her green eyes gleaming with mischief and a hint of dark triumph. "Guess next time we meet, you should come prepared, huh?" Leaning in close, she murmurs softly into Arianrod's ear, "After all, practice makes perfect." Then, with a final, lingering kiss, she pulls away to saunter out of the ring, leaving her vanquished foe to ponder the implications of their twisted encounter.
MATCH RESULTS:
AZAZEL WIN BY KO