NEW - NOIR EXTREME WRESTLING
Established: 2025-11-13
Chat room: #Noir
- No holds barred
- Pro wrestling
- Long-term roleplay
- Female / Female
- Extreme violence
In the night underground of New York, the NEW women wrestle for pride, pain, and redemption — no rules, no mercy, no glamour. We are a sisterhood.
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Starring
Mina Anderson
It's a frustrating night for me. I've been cleared for action again for a while but still, I end up put in a low stake tag match. The kind of match that doesn't even make the livestream broadcast. It's just on to give the early arrivals something to watch while the arena fills up and gosh did it show. A tag match with 3 other girls I've barely met where I hardly got any ringtime, there was no chemistry between my partner and I. No passion in the combat. And I've spent the whole evening since loitering around, chatting, watching other girls being pushed to their limits and pushing back just as hard. It's the kind of exhilaration I've so dearly missed. So as I pack up my gear and head down the corridors, through dim flickering light, the only company right now the click clack of the high heels I'm wearing, I find myself wrestling with grievances big and small. From the smothered feel across my face, where I need all that makeup to mask the scar that bitch left on my brow with her last, unnecessary chair shot. That fight.. that torture at least wasn't lacking in passion. It's still so raw my toes curl every time I'm forced to lay eyes on you and shivers run so deep they touch me to very core. Perhaps it's fate, that the moment I find myself rueing wistfully on that day the one errant source of light breaking the ambient gloom of the hallway is sneaking out from
under a door with a plaque reading "Sara Leon". You're room.. And it looks like you're still inside...
A casual glance left, then right confirms that I'm alone. I've a trusty can of pepper spray in my bag that I always carry when I've leaving late. Not sure why that has came to mind right this moment. I'm just going to.. Give you, the self righteous tart, the blame shifting bitch, the Champion a piece of my mind. So I lean into the door, pause for a second and realise my heartbeat is faster and my nerves are already lighting up. Breathe Mina! The door handle clicks solidly and I step forward, pushing it on open with shoulder. As I enter I take in the room that's become your privilege and perhaps even your sanctuary from the bustle of the changing room us mere mortals have to share? "What a dedicated champion you are Sara. Staying so late". I start, trying my best and failing completely to sound light hearted. The words are dripping with venom. "What's kept you here so long? Everyone else cleared out a while ago"
Sara León
It's been a long night. I haven't had a match, but I've had a mountain of administrative and promotional work. Sometimes I start to feel more like a model than a wrestler, and after days like today, that feeling leaves me exhausted and completely frustrated. It isn't until everyone has left that I finally get the chance to sit down and relax for a while. I've managed to remove some of my makeup, revealing a face that looks more like the real me, but also even more tired. Then I hear the door open. I spin around abruptly, thoroughly annoyed that you didn't knock, ready to shout, before I hear your venomous voice. I freeze completely, staring straight at you as I begin to feel a knot forming in my stomach. Not just remembering our match, but also those awkward moments backstage over the past few weeks, those poisoned barbs, those silent missiles aimed directly at the waterline of my standing as champion. The match with Erin... That stab of remorse for what I did to you, mixed with a growing hatred born solely from the fear that you'll take away everything I've built. My reply is dry, delivered without barely moving a single muscle in my face, my eyes locked on yours. "Luckily for you, Mina... My business isn't your concern. Congratulations on the success of your merchandise, by the way..."
Mina Anderson
I find myself matching your poise, moving slow with the gentle brush of one inky smooth leg across the other. Clean taps of my stilettoes chime of the floor as I slide off the door and let it sway closed with a gentle click while I stay right there, between it and between you. "Thank you Sara". I say with the same formality even as my eyes narrow on the woman that's taken so much of my time. When other new girls have been forging ahead I've been... Well reduced to a poster girl. A mascot and a.. well I don't even want to think how some of our less upstanding fans view me. I don't want to, but I am.. And I'm thinking of you as my pulse starts to race, somewhere between that feeling walking down the ramp for a match and bumping into crush. Butterflies that want to drive me to do something. Yet I stay still but for the lift of my chest as I draw in a steady breath and tap tap my fingers on my thigh. "I suppose I have you to thank for that. After all you are the reason I've had to busy myself with promo work." Now I take a step forward, just one. Just enough to make you have to crane a little more to hold my ice cold gaze. "It just goes to show, heart and style can you as far in this business as brutish, senseless violence. Maybe that lesson that Erin dished out helped you to understand that? Huh kitten?"
Sara León
The sound of the door closing echoes in my ears like the lock of a cage. Once again I tell myself that my fear of you is absurd and unfounded, that you're simply exceptionally good at getting inside my head and provoking me... and then I realize that's exactly what I fear about you. I feel an overwhelming urge to throw you out of my room, but something stops me. Is it paralyzing fear? Or is it that aura you carry around you? Those elegant, delicate movements, that soft voice, that refined vocabulary, those blue eyes... My heart starts to race as I watch you step closer. Why can't you just insult me and leave? What do you gain from this? I lift my chin just enough to maintain the angle as you blame me—largely with good reason—for your absence from the ring over the past few weeks, disguising it behind a clever backhanded compliment. Then you throw three darts in quick succession. You accuse me of using senseless violence, then you bring up my match with Erin, and finally you mockingly insult me. Heat inevitably rises to my cheeks, unsure which remark to answer first. I jump to my feet in one swift motion, scraping the chair across the floor, and point my index finger at you, pressing it against your chest as I reply through gritted teeth: "Did you come here to make fun of me, Mina? Because if that's why you're here, you need to know I haven't had the best of nights, and I'm not in the mood for your provocative games. If you want something from me, then just say it directly."
Mina Anderson
You, as ever wear your lionheart sleeve. At one time that made me one of your very most devoted fangirls. But as they say never meet your heroes. In the flesh, I never have to look too deep to see the real you. So changeable, so unsteady, like a leaf blowing in the wind. Sometimes I feel I need only a flutter a wing and change the breeze to send you hurtling. You have passion though... I do respect that though you'd scarcely believe it right now. There's impatience, disdain and just a little flicker of surprise when you rise up and jab your finger into my collar bone. I remain still though the hairs on the back of my neck are rising on end. My gaze falls to that digit, lingering above the valley of my chest and my sternum pushes against it with the rise which comes with a slow, patient breath and the heavy sigh someone might release in response to a petulant child. "I'm glad you told me. I did need to know you've had rough night". I agree with soft, polite smile that does nothing to dispel the sourness in my tone. "Poor thing, you haven't even had time to pack up and change". I'm moving around you, dragging my fingers of the gold belt resting on a table. The sight of you staring at it when Erin had left you is still fresh my mind. "All the other champs wore this as a status symbol. But for you, it's more like a shield isn't it? Or a crutch?". I ask, while ignoring your question. The answer is on the tip of my tongue and that's where it stays, held back by the way I draw by bottom lip into a soft bite. I'm not here to make fun of you, I'm here to hurt you, and I intend to enjoy it just as much as I suspect you enjoyed hurting me...
Sara León
A shiver runs visibly through my entire body, from head to toe. My hands tremble with sheer fear. A fear comparable only to what Erin made me feel in the middle of our match, when she left me feeling exposed, my soul laid bare. Your words shake me because they're true, and I know I can't deny them. The fear of someone who barely knows me and yet can read me so well becomes unmistakable, leaving me feeling defenseless and vulnerable. Fortunately, we're not in public, but that doesn't stop my desire for this conversation to end from accelerating just as quickly as my own heartbeat. My eyes drop to the championship belt, watching your fingertips glide across it with a certain reverence. But I don't sense in you the hunger to possess it that I see in other wrestlers. To you, it's simply a tool to get to me. I extend an arm and grab the end of the belt, pulling it toward myself and out of your reach, folding it against my chest as I point toward the door. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave, Mina. You can't be here." I tell you, my voice trembling. I don't answer your questions or your provocations, but my face and body language tell you everything you need to know
Mina Anderson
I can see those pointed questions tremble through you, their almost crawling under your very skin. For a moment, I think that you're going to lash out, like you did the last time I really wounded your pride. You are, after all, dressed for it, with that branded tee shirt tanging over your ring gear. No doubt earlier you were posing as the strong and proud champion. To capture the image of your clutching that belt to your body like a comfort blanket. The disdain washes over my face in an instant, but I've no desire to demean the title just the cowardly lioness hiding behind it. "Okay Okay Lionesssss, no need to get your shorts in a twist". I sigh, raising my hands in something that might pass for apology. But as I turn away from the meek, shaking mess that I really feel my anger surging. To have beaten, bound, gagged and brought to pleading tears by you.... There's a wardrobe to one side of me, a wall mounted screen in the corner by the door, an umbrella resting against a wall.. hmmm maybe. a metal trash can... Then I see it, one of the folding chairs littered all through the building. I guess it's for more welcome guests, but I'll be making of us of it tonight. "Soooo.. I'll just be off then. And all your problems will just waltz away huh Sara". I smile of so very sweetly and turn toward the door...
Sara León
To my surprise and relief, you step aside, contempt written across your face. A contempt much like the one beginning to appear on mine. It truly infuriates me that you're able to get under my skin like this, that I have to put up with your mockery and provocations every time you see me. You of all people... The wrestler I've defeated more decisively than anyone else. It feels humiliating, and that feeling shows in my eyes, as though they're saying, "Is this the only thing you're actually good at?" Even so, I bite my tongue, knowing full well how you'd seize on any attack to play the victim all over again. I take a step back, the championship belt still clutched tightly against my chest and my lips pressed together, muttering, "I've got far bigger problems than you in my life..." Then I turn away completely as I speak, trying to place the belt on a shelf while giving you my back
Mina Anderson
I can accept being bested by a better combatant, a better technician, a better athlete. Each of us, after all know the risks. When I shimmy into one of those imagination capturing outfits and step out in the stage lights there's always going to be danger and pain. That's part of the thrill. Some folks have shopping or vacations or parties or whatever. I have competing and putting the pay days to good use. What keeps eating at me though, is what happened when the fight was long since won and lost. When I was cuffed, gagged, more weakened and helpless than I'd ever experienced to that moment, in front of all those people, where suffering become spectacle and then became all I was. It was my entire reality.. It was terrifying. You, or what I saw IN you was terrifying. And... what I felt within me... I steal a backward glance and see you tending to that precious trinket of yours. From there, I'm moving without thought, quickly reaching for the chair. Maybe you can react to how it scuffs and scrapes the ground as I pivot around and rise it high, then bring it down with all the anger and strength I can muster, toward the back of your head!
Sara León
I hear the sound. Of course I hear it. The unmistakable sound of a chair resting unsteadily against the wall, sliding across the floor because of some random movement. The kind of sound that never means danger, only everyday normality. I sigh in frustration without turning around, finishing placing the title belt on the shelf, completely oblivious to your movements. Maybe your silence should have been what put me on alert, but it's already too late. The metal chair SLAMS into the back of my head with brutal force... -CLAAANNNKKK- My entire vision is blasted into a blinding white as my skull vibrates violently in time with the metallic clang of the dented chair. My whole body is hurled forward, smashing me into the shelving unit before I collapse against it and slide downward as though someone had cut the invisible strings holding me upright. My legs fold beneath me, and I end up crumpled in a tangled heap between the floor and the base of the shelf, completely motionless, with pain as the only thing my senses can perceive
Mina Anderson
Not all chair shots are delivered equally, some decorate matches and others can end them. That was the later, I felt it reverberate up my forearms even before you crumple like carboard in front of me, bringing down some of the tat adorning your shelf at the same time. If I'd managed to land a shot like that in the ring, our story would be very different. But perhaps this was fate, you are after all wearing the white variation of your ring gear. It might very well be cursed since you've lost every single NOIR match bar a routine win over a jobber doll in it. I was not lying, proud Lioness, when I said I'd been your biggest fan. Now though, I might be your biggest enemy and I'm standing over you, watching you lay there paralysed by your own pain, it's such a validating, delicious sight that I wish I could drink it in for longer. But we have a long night ahead of us and there'll be greater sights still to behold. So I reach down for your ankle and back step up til your laying straight out and flat, where I can easily turn you onto your back and with a light creak of soft leather, nestle myself, straddled across your hips.
Sara León
I feel your hands grip my ankles as I'm dragged across the floor. The white NEW T-shirt bunches up on itself, exposing my abs. However, I'm completely dazed and don't even have my eyes open; my arms lie outstretched at my sides while a soft groan escapes my lips. Then you turn me over, my arms bend, and my face is pressed against the cold floor at the same moment I feel your weight settle onto my lower back, forcing another groan from me as I feel the pressure. But only my arms writhe slowly and erratically!
Mina Anderson
There's time, I think to savour this, you feel like dead weight under me, with only that groan letting me know you have at least one foot still in the conscious realm. There's time to let my thoughts breathe and blossom into something more coherent and directed than just taking out my bad day on you. I couldn't just do that. Nonono, what I want to do is... Jeez am I actually gonna do this... Everything seems to lining up just too perfectly not to. Somewhere in the junk and debris from the shelf, I can see the crest of handcuffs peeking out, maybe even the same ones you used on me. I gotta know why you did it? More than that.. I think... I gotta feel what you felt to truly understand it.. Or at least... make you feel what I felt... That.... makes me blush and I realise that I've wedged my thumbs into the grove of your spine while my hands butterfly out across your shoulder blades, kneading like a masseuse, while I slide in and push my way up, rolling your tee shirt higher and higher along your body, unveiling a blank, unspoiled canvas. I pause and work the sleeves out of one arm and then the other. In this position my body's cushioned and snug against the back of your top and my lips are so close I can smell the scent of your hair and you feel my whispered voice, dancing in mockery across the crest of your ear. "are you still with me lioness? Of course you are. And I'm always with you, always in here". Just as you finished our last battle, I start our next real encounter, drawing my tongue across your cheekbone in a lewd, degrading and possessive sweep. The Glob of spit that follows is just the exclamation point before a new paragraph in our story. One where I take the loose sleeves of your tee shirt and pull back in opposite directions across your neck and turn it into a makeshift choke leash!
Sara León
I still don't know what's happening, my mind is still too detached from reality, all of my senses deceiving me. Even so, the involuntary shiver of pleasure that runs through my back as you massage it is unmistakable. You pull my shirt up, revealing my bare back and the back of my white-and-purple top, the one I posed in just a few hours ago for NEW promotional photos. You handle my limp arms with ease, slipping them out of the white shirt and leaving it hanging only around my neck while you lie on top of me, your breasts pressing against my upper back and warming me as you whisper right into my ear. For the first time, your words reach me clearly. For a moment, I think you're really inside my head, that I'm dreaming about you and you're hunting me. That you've taken shape within my own mind to torment me. Your lick across my cheekbone only intensifies the feeling that you're taking possession of me. The muscles in my face tighten with pleasure and humiliation, and it's not until you begin pulling on my shirt that I finally wake up completely. Suddenly, I feel a strange pressure around my throat. My trachea is crushed, and my neck lifts slightly off the floor. The fabric of the shirt digs into my veins, and I immediately open my eyes, overcome by a brutal wave of dizziness as information begins flooding back all at once... "UUNNGHHMMMPPPHHH!!!" I snort as I realize what's happening. It takes me a few seconds to grasp the situation I'm in, but I'm not even fully aware of who you are. My perception of reality is still distorted, and all I can focus on is bringing my hands to my neck and trying to relieve the choking as I begin kicking behind me and writhing, struggling to gather my thoughts and understand what's happening to me
Mina Anderson
Pacing and Impatience have so often proved my Achilles heel and, perhaps I've been too hasty, perhaps I should have let you drift in that half dream state where you seem to accept humiliation with such a lazy ease. I could have had you bound and helpless while you were still my languid little dolly. But the way you claw at the tightening clothe, I know too well, is a façade of agency where there is only futility and that petulant, panicked drum beat of your feet. That's a rhythm I can move to! And move I do, slow and deliberate, almost serpentine. Soft leather flows across your skin and slides across the back of your thighs, holding them down as part of the new base I'm creating. That warm push of chest flattens further then peels back with an arche your forced to intimate and exaggerate til pain ignites and traces the path I soothed along your spine. I sink onto my calves adding weight onto your thighs as I wrench and choke you. No sooner have you stirred from that dreamy state til I'm trying to send you back there with one more seed planted in your imagination. "Everything I'm doing.. Everything I'm going to do to you Sara, is personal. It's intimate. I could do it, only with you".
Sara León
I feel myself starting to flush red. The veins in my face bulge as my fingernails claw at the fabric of my own shirt. I feel your sexy body shifting, sliding, and crawling over my back, still not fully aware of who you are. My whole body writhes like that of an animal caught in a trap as you begin pulling backward, bending my spine and forcing my neck into a deep arch. My eyes travel all the way up the shelving unit until they lock onto the corner of the ceiling, while I feel my back contort into an unnatural position that makes me wish it would simply snap in two. "Ahhhh... AAAAGHHHHHHHH!!!!" Your legs press down onto the backs of my thighs, pinning me even more securely. My vision begins to blur just as I become fully aware of my situation. Where I am, what's happening to me... And when you whisper, your unmistakable, venom-laced voice seeps into my veins, and I finally realize who you are, making me rasp in a hoarse whisper: "Mina..." The woman who hates me more than anyone else in the entire promotion, and probably the one with the most reason to. The suffering suddenly makes sense now that I can put a face to my attacker. Even so, the memory of what I did to you keeps me from feeling anger toward you. Your words fill me with fear and sadness more than irritation. You're here to take revenge on me personally, not to prove anything to anyone or because you want something I have, and that makes you my worst nightmare. One of my hands manages to reach your forearm, gripping it tightly as I try to ease the pressure, but you quickly realize that with every passing second, my strength is fading, at the same pace as my convulsions
Mina Anderson
My gaze too travels over your shelves, your makeup table all around the room making note of what I can use. It's not that my fists, knees and feet can't be adequate weapons. It's simply that you didn't hold back so why ever would I. Of course there's the can of mace in my bag, the steel stud lining my belt, maybe you felt them when I sliding up and down your back? Even my point heels could tack you a thousand times over before the doors open on the Hammersmith again. There's an electro collar on a shelf, possibly the same one that left Luisa quaking in your wake. I can't help wonder if you keep soveigners.. My skirt after all was left in the ring when I was stretchered out broken and spent and wishing so dearly that earth would open up and swallow me whole. But there's no where lower than hell and you brought us both down to that base level that night. There's a pair of hair straighteners on your table, and of course that precious belt. It will play a role I'm sure, but I doubt it can hurt you any more than it already is. The feel of you hand finding my arm takes me out of this darkening train of thought and back to the present. You're faltering fast against the friction hot twist and choke boring so tight your skin bulges around the coiled clothe. I need only lean back and let your back, shoulders and neck bare my whole weight and your world starts to constrict into a narrow tunnel. And Still I squeeze, and twist and wiggle waggle my hips in a gleeful little victory dance.. When your back in that place where reality mixes with dreams and nightmares. That's when I'll you faceplant down to the tiled floor again...
Sara León
The pain in my arched back blends with the lack of oxygen reaching my brain and the desperate need for air. I feel the fabric of my own shirt begin to burn against the skin of my throat as I give your forearm gentle taps, realizing I can't stop you by force and resorting to the only thing I have left: pleading. But your only response is to pull my head back even harder and rock over my hips, savoring my pain and vulnerability as I slowly begin to fade out again and my vision melts into blackness. My arms fall limply to my sides, and my eyes roll back before slowly closing. My feet stop writhing, and then you finally let go, allowing my face to strike the tiled floor of my small room as I lie unconscious beneath you
Mina Anderson
There are a couple so stray rivets of sweat pearling and ticking across my collar bone which don't quite match the light echoed strain in my biceps. My weight did almost all the work yet a casual glance down shows those shimmer tracks creeping into the valley of my now rosy hued cleavage. I'm sure that little flush is from the fleeting contact across your back but regardless, I have other things to stay focused on. First that bunched up top which flicks through your fiery mane when I pull it away and toss it into a heap and then, after I lifted up onto my knees and made room, turning you over. "Mirror Mirror on the wall, whoever should I tie up and whip with cable". I coo, smiling down. You are, I'll admit as I cup your chin and brush my thumb across your lips, pretty in that kind of proud and handsome way that so suit yours moniker. In my eyes.. You're more like a cowardly lion the followed the wrong brick road. I could tell myself this is an effort to set you right, but that would require a kind of care I can't bring myself to feel for you, or the kind of hypocrisy I can't stand in you. Those cuffs have been there, peeking out at me this whole time. Now It's time to use them to creak and click one of your wrists into them and then the other, so that yours are placed neatly at your waist line in front of you. There's more I need to do. Starting with clearing out your wardrobe. It's both wide and tall enough to keep you hanging and able to move just enough. The collection of ring outfits could fetch a fortune at the right auction, but they're dumped in a heap of latex and spandex in a corner. "Looks like a strippers thrift store in here". Next I return to you, and start to haul you up on my shoulder. The cuffs will link to one of your belts looped around the top rail so I hang you from it, and wait for you to stir again...
Sara León
Finally, you pull the shirt off my head, revealing a red mark encircling my throat. You turn me over and look down at my unconscious face, my mouth hanging slightly open as I continue to breathe in ragged, labored gasps. Then you handcuff me without me being aware of it, and after emptying out my wardrobe, you carry me over to it, shifting my limp weight until you manage to leave me hanging from the top rail. My head hangs forward, and my legs are slightly bent. My hair falls across my face while my entire weight rests on my outstretched arms, my triceps standing out beneath my skin as I slowly begin to feel the crushing reality returning to my senses
Mina Anderson
There is work to be done before you wake. I get everything I might use set out in a neat row on the table and within view. Then the screen in the corner gets synched up with my phone's Bluetooth. I've forced myself to watch that ordeal play out again, and you should, at the very least get to see some of your highlight reel again. Finally, I set up my phone on a tripod I'd packed in my bag in the opposite corner, set to record and angled at you as you are, hanging like meat in a butchers shop. By the time you start to wake, I'm right in front of you, combing your hair from your face strand by delicate strand. I'm around you, a leg hooked to hold you so close that I'm on you, pressed just enough that I can feel your breath rise and fall and you can feel mine, more impatient and heavy nudge back into your costumed chest. "Wakey Wakey sleeping beauty. Sorry there's no one more charming waiting for you. Just lil ol' me again. For tonight you see, I am your entire world".
Sara León
Before my eyes even open, I feel the possessive warmth of your body against mine. I hear your heavy breathing and feel your breath on me. Your perfume, the same one you wore during our match, seeps into my mind as it slowly becomes aware of the situation. Your sweet, soft voice... threatening, and now terrifying to me, makes me open my eyes only to find yours—large and blue, creating that striking contrast with your pink hair. As much as I might want to hide it, my face immediately betrays my terror. Over the past few weeks, you've managed to condition me so thoroughly that the mere thought of being at your mercy sends a shiver through my entire body. I know how you feel about me, your pent-up resentment, your bitterness, your anger, and I know your expressions well enough to see that your obsession with me is driving you mad. I try to move, and that's when I realize my arms are stretched above my head, handcuffed together and secured to the top rail of the wardrobe. My shoulders and arms ache from the position, and I grit my teeth, glancing upward before looking back at you. "Hey, Mina... Let me go... I just want to go home..." I say it with a slight tremor in my voice, every word sounding emptier to me than the last. Why would you let me go? The reality of what I'm doing here crashes down on me, and you can see the resignation in my still-pleading eyes
Mina Anderson
There's a nervous energy pulsing through me. Til your eyes open I could step back from this and never ever again even think of crossing this threshold. Go back to those barbed comments that make squirm in your skin, uncomfortable with mirror image it's so very easy to paint. You've already offered a title shot most of the girls in N.E.W. would run through walls for and that felt... empty.. Like you thought you could buy me off, or worse trap me in another conversation were you're in control. Your eyes open and I feel a familiar flourish of fear and excitement ripple through me in waves. I tighten my hold on your hair, letting that hold bite spread across your scalp while my thigh coils tighter and soft leather slides and creaks with a gentle roll of my hips. "Ssssshhhh Lionesss... SssshhhhhH!". I coo as rosewater, lavender, sweat and fear colour the air around this almost intimate embrace. I'm turning your head so you face the image reel rolling on the screen. It's near the start and the sounds down. But there I am, pleading. You can see the spluttered desperation tumbling off my lips almost as clearly as the mascara laced tears stained over my cheeks. The peace under your full body pin not until like sensual coil of our bodies right now.. And then.. You see yourself, glee and malice written over a carnivorous smile as you pull my shoulders off the matt on two... When I pull your head back to face me again, I'm holding a can of pepper spray close Infront of you. It takes a second to uncoil and step back before that hot spray erupts in a searing hot spray across your eyes *fffffssshhhhhttpppP!*
Sara León
"Ahhh..." A weak moan escapes my lips as I feel your fingers yank my hair backward, forcing me to lift my chin slightly as my scalp burns and the pain radiates through my entire head. That tug, combined with your hissing, is enough to make me fall silent, as though I instinctively recognize your authority. Then you turn my head, and I see what you've prepared for me. Those images I've been trying so hard to avoid, the ones I was forced to watch during my match with Erin, the ones that keep circulating across social media, impossible to bury. The image of what happens when I feel frustrated, alone, and provoked. I stare at the footage with my head twisted to the side, my face contorted with pain and fear. It's a clear statement of intent. You're not angry with me for beating you, not even for doing it so violently. You're resentful because I turned you into the victim of a spectacle of blood and suffering... and then tried to pass myself off as a noble champion. After all... perhaps I'm the person who understands you better than anyone else in the entire promotion, and that's what frightens me the most. Then you turn my head back toward you. "Mina, I..." Before I can even begin the sentence, I suddenly feel a searing stream of spray cover my eyes. "AAAAHHHHH!!! FUCK!!" My entire body jerks violently. I wrench my face away, far too late, as my vision turns red and my eyes flood with hot tears. Completely blinded and with an unbearable burning in my eyeballs, I shake my head as though that could somehow help, crying out in pain and rage. "IT STINGS!! IT BURNS SO MUCH!!"
Mina Anderson
Perhaps, If I'd caught that flicker of understanding passing across your face, I'd be at least a little appeased. There have been so many forks in the road where things could have veered into a more conciliatory path. An instinctive kick in the locker room, an embittered jibe in the canteen. One might wonder if we're fated to be perpetually opposite sides of the same coin. That look's lost in a cloud is liquid hate and your screams roll through the dim, sleeping halls of the Hammersmith, drowning out the crisp heel click back steps to stay well clear on the mist. "That's the idea you stupid bitch!". I toss the half empty can clunking off your brow then wind up again. The first blow is wild, a flailing expression of anger that comes sailing toward the cheek bone. It'd be easily evade if you were trussed up and blinded. The next two though are more compact and controlled. They come through my legs and hips into an explosion of force. A left cross toward your jaw, a right hook aimed to bury just under your visible ribcage. The finale is a thrusting knee toward your abs that brings me up close and personal, where we can smell one another's scent's and feel each others breathes. "Do you..." I pant, breath rolling across the cleavage offered up by that purple trimmed top. N.E.W.'s trademark shade of sultry purple. The one you claim to represent.. The one you hide behind "See what would happen to Noir if we all let ourselves be bullies and beasts?". I am of course, just stretching the surface while I recover my breath. For both us, the truth of what happened that fateful night runs much deeper.
Sara León
I barely even register the hit from the can, too focused on expelling the FIRE burning its way through my brain, but your first punch does shake me completely. My head snaps to the side, a few drops of saliva fly from my mouth, my skull rings, and my whole body sways slightly from the handcuffs. But before I can say anything, your attacks rain down on me mercilessly. I feel your fist crush into my jaw, "NAGGH!!" With effects similar to the previous blow, followed by another strike beneath my ribcage that makes me feel my ribs wrapping around your fist, "UUUGGHHHH!!", as I bend forward, unable to process so much pain in such a short time, leaving me completely open for your final attack. Your knee SINKS into my abs, knocking all the air out of my lungs and sending waves of pain all the way through to my back, as I slump against you, once again catching your scent and hearing your breathing. Your question is cruel, but my own remorse keeps me from rejecting its implications. I remain there with my chin resting on your shoulder, coughing and gasping, my eyes red and my face covered in hot tears. Little by little, I begin to regain some of my vision, though I wish I didn't. I feel heat rising to my face, though I don't know whether it's from the two punches or from how intimately close you are to me, from your soft, threatening voice
Mina Anderson
I stand straight as a plank as your brow comes to rest on your shoulders and our skin brushes. I'll allow the closeness, if only so I can cup your chin between thumb and forefinger, pushing you into a dumb looking duck face and hold your head up. Curled knuckles patiently comb away your hair, tucking it behind your ears so I can better see the red welts and the tears streaking over your face. It must mirror the perspective you had in the onscreen image, when your were peeling me off the stale canvas with that Cheshire grin beaming malevolently across your face, minus the blood streaked across my features. You'll bleed too Lioness, before I've extracted what I truly want and need from you.
"Why was it, that winning wasn't enough?" I ask, soft and missing a least a little of the bite you've come to expect. There's some genuine curiosity amid the tension... the closeness.. and I can only hope, the fear, the sheer helplessness that you made me experience. "Because I hurt your feelings? Because the fans were booing you? I want to hear the lies you tell yourself before I show you the truth". Now the venoms back, along with a gentle cheek dimpling half smile that lingers with glossy shine even in the dim light.
Sara León
You brush the hair away from my face, and I feel your fingers guiding my chin, forcing me to look at you, though all I can see is a red blur of your beautiful face. I don't know if you notice, but your questions make my breathing quicken and my pulse pound harder against my chest. Like a little girl who doesn't dare tell her parents the truth but doesn't know how to lie to them either, anxiety hits me with almost physical force, and it takes me a few seconds to manage to say anything... "I warned you..." I finally manage to say, almost under my breath and between gasps. "You kept provoking and insulting me; you knew I wasn't going to hold back. You stepped into the ring of your own free will, and you didn't surrender when you had the chance..." My stomach tightens more and more as I speak. Maybe provoking you isn't the smartest strategy in my situation, but if there was one thing I had to tell you about that night, it had to be this. I vividly remember your stubbornness, your taunts in the face of my threats, and how the pleading only came once you already knew there was nothing you could do. I remember the sweet feeling of denying you mercy when you finally realized what I was capable of.
Mina Anderson
Provocation? You've gave me exactly what I asked for. I'd by smiling if I wasn't laughing at how, you've did it while trying to maintain that gossamer thin veneer of self righteous. Sneering, demeaning laughter but still laughter. The kind that could make you shrink inside yourself even as I hold your posture straight with a mere cup of my hand. Of course I can feel the quicken in your pulse. How your breath breaks across my parted lips and rolls across my features as the kiss of chests in gently see sawing pressure. My hands slipped from your hair now, just out of sight as it winds back and then CLAPS, open handed and red hot against your cheek. "Thank you, Sara". You did as I asked, but I sense.. maybe merely suspect you're still lying to yourself. Then my hands drop to your hips and turn you around, back to me. The chain on the cuffs coils and clinks, bringing a harsher, imprinting bite around your wrist and more strain pulling up on your shoulders. I'm still moving, running my touch all the way down your thighs before I take an ankle in each hand and move back, pulling your feet off the ground, till your angled just right. "It's not easy to look in the mirror and truly see what's looking back. So maybe we start with something easy?". I ask, a heart beat before my pointed toe boot snaps upward in a blur of motion and finds it's mark right across your already pummelled abbs.
Sara León
You start laughing, and the desire for the ground to just swallow me up is written all over my face. An involuntary sense of shame makes me want to shrink into myself. But it doesn't take you long to land a resounding slap across my cheek, making my head snap to the side and sending my hair flying up and sideways. I swallow hard, not turning my head back, simply feeling the pain and humiliation, the heat of my cheek marked by your hand. Then you thank me without me knowing exactly why, and I feel your touch sliding down my body toward my hips. You force me to turn around, and I feel the metal of the handcuffs digging deeper and deeper into the flesh of my wrists, making me groan as my darkened vision registers only the back wall of the closet. My shoulders begin to ache as I feel you lift my ankles, making the pressure from the handcuffs even more agonizing and causing my head to tilt forward and downward, my hair falling over my face. Then, "UUUGGHHHH!!" The toe of your boot sinks into my already aching abs, making mostly my head jerk and forcing me to spit to the side as I feel my breathing falter. "You're a c..." The word coward remains on the tip of my tongue, never quite making it out. For attacking me from behind and hurting me while I'm physically restrained? How different is that from what I did? At least we're not in public...
Mina Anderson
"Now Now, Language!" I almost cackle, totally misreading what you almost found the courage to say. "That is no way for a champion to speak!". I exclaim while I cross your feet behind you to keep you hanging from those cuffs, then ensnare the higher of the two feet and lock in a twisting, cranking ankle lock. It's a simple submission hold, but a painful one. "Misaki would be proud". I coo, a little to pleased with myself as I picture the girl the rivalry once fizzled with before easing into easy flirtation. In truth she'd like have you tied like a pretzel her face lit up, grinning in the kind of sadistic amusement a cat gets from playing with a mouse. My biceps flex and tighten along with the hold, never quite reaching breaking point, but never too far away either. "So you tortured after you'd won because I wasn't scared enough to back down? You humiliated me because I insulted you? Or was it cause the Brave, Strong Lioness was scared that a girl in pink could hold her own with you? You gagged me cause you didn't like someone else getting all the fanfare. You felt threatened.. You lashed out, like a frightened, Weak. BULLY!"
Sara León
"Ahh... Ah... GHHAAAWWDDD!!!" I feel my feet cross over each other before the sharp pain of the hold hits me, my ankle twisting in agonizing pain as you mention Misaki and the image of the Japanese wrestler's sadistic smile burns itself into my mind, bringing back some of my worst memories from the match where I won the championship. But the worst part is that I'm not even on the mat. My entire body weight is borne by my wrists, the flesh of which is slowly beginning to tear, and by my feet, the very source of all my pain. The rest of my body hangs upside down in an uncomfortable arch, writhing under your torture. Your words sink into me more easily while I'm completely overwhelmed by the suffering, so my answer spills unfiltered from my lips, like pus from a pimple that's been growing for far too long without bursting. "AAAAGGGHHHH!! I wanted to vent, okay?? I was frustrated, I felt alone, and I wanted an excuse to use violence!! FUCK, YOU'RE GOING TO BREAK MY ANKLE!! I WANTED TO HURT YOU!!" My voice comes out hoarse and broken from my throat, my whole body trembling as tears stream freely down my cheeks, a mixture of stinging, pain, and humiliation
Mina Anderson
That is so powerfully vindicating that I rise all the way up onto the tip of my toes bring that pulse of extra pressure in a moment when I feel absolved. It wasn't earned or deserved. Not a penalty for trying to progress and compete, nor a punishment for losing fair and square to the better athlete and stronger fighter. I never nor will I ever deny you were better. Though the tazer was a harsh lesson in what's acceptable in NOIR. You gave me the validation I came here for, but it feels empty. After all I seen what happened when Erin humbled you.. I realise your ankle and let you sail back to earth and swing upright again. "... Thank you. Sara". I mean that. But I'm still not satisfied. There's more to take or give... There's more for you to own. That thought scares even me, but if I walk away now, after this, I'll never be able to look you in the eye again, let alone stand in front of you in ring. It's perhaps a mercy that you can't see my face when that realisation sets in, and I pick up your title belt. The first thing your feel is the familiar stroke and hug of the seasoned leather under all that plating squeeze tenderly across your waist. Then it clasp and lock in as I step close, bringing the sweet, sweat laced mix of scents to you again. Now it's my head on your shoulder, lips brushing your earlobe. "This weighs heavy on you doesn't it. The expectation that comes with it. To be brave, just and noble when everyone is targeting you." My voice is soft, almost dripping into your ear. "And they'll still hate you when you lash out. They'll still see when you feel scared and alone". I slide again as smoothly as I ghosted over to you, "But what you without it?"
Sara León
"WAAAAAGGGHHHHHH!!!" The renewed pull makes my whole body tense up, while my chest heaves so rapidly that I can barely draw any air with each breath. "LET ME GO!! ENOUGH!! I'M TELLING Y— WOAH!!" You finally release me and my body swings like a pendulum, turning around until I'm facing you again, while two thin trails of blood run down my arms from my wrists. My still-reddened eyes slowly regain their vision, but it does little good while they're still flooded with tears. A bruise is beginning to form on my cheekbone from your earlier punch, while my hair hangs messily across my face. Altogether, I look like a wreck. When you thank me, I lower my head, feeling a pang of relief amid the overall sense of humiliation. I remain silent, eyes closed and head bowed, my weight resting on my good foot while the other still throbs with pain.
Then I feel the familiar sensation of the NEW championship belt fastening around my waist. My first feeling is instantly put into words by you. It really is heavy. Terribly heavy, and every day I put it on, it feels heavier. Part of me finds understanding in your words, someone I can be honest with and vent to. After all... You seem to know me with a depth that genuinely terrifies me. I instinctively turn my face away slightly when you whisper in my ear, pressing my lips together and breathing heavily through my nose, once again catching your scent. Your words slowly turn into tears in my eyes that are practically impossible to hide. "I never wanted the championship..." I whisper very quietly, as though I don't want you to hear me while definitely hoping that you do. "I only wanted my friend... The crowd's approval... The other wrestlers' approval... I wasn't looking for the spotlight, and when it came, it was... Special." I manage to lift my head slightly to look at you, my lips dry and trembling. "Feeling that recognition and respect just because I'm wearing this belt... That relevance..." I press my lips together and shake my head. "It's not easy to realize that it isn't who you are that makes you special in other people's eyes."
Mina Anderson
Another victory comes, by merely clasping your belt around your waist. This one comes without a thank you, just still silence and an attentive gaze. It's intimate in a much deeper way than the mocking sensuality you showed me, the little kiss on my cheek that lingered there throughout everything else to you put me through. But there is a symmetry to this which isn't lost on me. Since you destroyed me in the ring, I've been fighting a deeper battle with you. And now, its won, with you sobbing and vulnerable before me as I was when I was kneeling at your feet.
"Sooo". I start, finally as I move in, hooking my index finger under the neckline of your top to draw you into the heat and soft leather creak of my body. "So the champion finds herself lost somewhere between who she thinks she should be, want's to be and..." I turn my head, letting you follow my gaze on the screen. There you are, straddling me, hands finding their way across my heaving and your face so alive as you finally take the pin and win. Then the video reel resets to the start. Me on my knees and you pulling me into the power bomb that must have registered on the Reicher scale, before the first pin. The one you pulled me out off "...And the you that you enjoy being". I don't wait for the denials. While your watching I fetch the shock collar you used on Luisa. It feels cool to the touch and smooth. There's something about sliding it around your neck and clasping it that feels familiar. Like putting on one of the chokers I so often wear to the ring. You didn't stop when I was beaten. Nor will I. I click of a button and the charge unleashes, hot and searing, it dances over and through your every muscle, sending them.. sending you into paralysing, agonising convulsions!
Sara León
The physical suffering you've subjected me to so far becomes insignificant compared to how small you're making me feel. That calculated silence, your inscrutable eyes, and your words... With a mixture of genuine curiosity and direct accusation. As if you'd spent the last 10 minutes digging your fingernail into an open wound and finding the spots that hurt me the most, forcing me to bare my soul to you just to... satisfy your curiosity? My eyes turn toward the images. It's hard to defend yourself against an accusation when the evidence of your own crime is right in front of you. I open my mouth, my jaw trembling, but I'm unable to say anything. The dark abyss of helplessness shows in my eyes as you place the collar around the Lioness's neck. I don't even resist; I just look at you with that same helplessness as I await my next punishment. "GHGHGBBRBRBRGHGHHGHGHGHRRRRGHHH!!!" The shock courses through my entire body in an instant and continues for several seconds that feel like an eternity. Every molecule in my body trembles as I feel myself burning from within and my muscles seize up. My whole body convulses, my legs give way, and I'm left hanging from my own wrists, increasingly bloodied, with thin trails of blood running down to my shoulders. The hair on my skin stands on end, and when the shock finally stops, I remain hanging there with my head bowed, breathing heavily, my hair covering my face
Mina Anderson
I couldn't do this and not give you a taste of that most unique, deep trembling agony. It was like nothing else I've ever felt. Seeing it unleashed on someone else is almost as disturbing. The way you jerk and shudder like a marionette on trembling strings. I worry that maybe I've pushed you too far the way you hang there, swaying on buckled legs but the rivets of blood snaking down your arms and the heavy breath tell me your still here, still with me no matter how much you may wish you were. There's a click of my heels, sharp and cold. My presence looms, blocking out the little light in here as I reach out and bring my hand into your line of sight. "Tell me". I coo like a caring friend. "What did you enjoy. THe power? The release? Or was it... a little deeper than that.". You can only watch as I curl my index finger under the waist band of your shorts and tug just enough to let the stale air feather across your skin before the fabric returns with a crisp, elastic *SNAP*
Sara León
I choke on myself and cough a little, a complete mess, as you loom over me, dominating my entire field of vision like the avenging angel you promised you would be when you stepped into that ring with me. I didn't take you seriously, and in fact I took the opportunity to mock you, and yet now I'm terrified by your mere presence, and it's not even because you're holding me captive. Your questions echo through my head deafeningly, as though I were asking them myself. What did I really enjoy? What lies do I tell myself about it? I look at you with the helplessness of not knowing how to answer, when suddenly SNAP I feel my own trunks snap against my skin, making me grit my teeth and hiss in pain, coughing again and finally daring to ask you for something: "Water... Please..."
Mina Anderson
That wasn't a denial... It wasn't a lie.. It wasn't even... an answer. It was something deeper. Vulnerability, weakness and need. If this were still just about revenge you'd get a facefull of spit and perhaps even another burst of static hell of fry and perspiration right off your skin. If only it were still just revenge, but it's something more now. Something that makes me say. "okay sara". The kindness tumbles off my lips before I can take it back, and I find myself searching out a bottle of water that's sat on your dress. When I come back into view, my fingers are fanning through your hair, combing it back as I tilt your head up toward the waiting lip of the bottle. It's like nectar, crystal clear and soothingly fresh across your lips. More flows and spills impatiently across your chin and cheeks breaking the stifling heat filmed over your features.
Sara León
As soon as you turn around to grant me a little of the mercy I've asked for, I see the images again, right beside you. At the same time as you're shown on the screen begging me for mercy while I cruelly deny it to you, you're picking up a bottle of water to ease my suffering. Without even realizing it, you manage to stir up that deeply buried feeling inside me that I'm nothing more than a monster trying to hide my true nature. I sigh, closing my eyes as you brush the hair away from my face, then open them again to receive the water. My dry, trembling lips close around the rim of the bottle as I feel the precious liquid flood my mouth and relieve much of my agony. The tears, the screaming, and the electric shock had truly left my mouth dry. I close my eyes, drinking eagerly almost straight from your hand, in an act that by now doesn't even feel humiliating anymore, while thin streams of water slip from the corners of my lips and run down my chin, over my throat, and onto my chest. When I feel I've had enough, I turn my head away slightly, drawing a breath and coughing once more, not daring to look you in the eyes, and whispering almost shamefully, "Thank you..."
Mina Anderson
Errant fingertips walk their way across your skin, following those forking streams of moisture to the neckline of your top. That's when my eyes lift again and lock onto yours and my voice rolls, soft as silk across your face. There's no need for a sharp tone any more. I've already opened up the wounds I wanted to open. But I still have a point to make and I still have a question unanswered. This one will take time, I know but we have all night. "You didn't answer me Sara". I explain with a little bite of my lips. "Is it still too painful". I'm rolling the buzzer for your collar between my fingers, betraying the nervous energy. "That's okay, you'll get there" Again I step back. Again I unleash sizzling hell with a mouse click. This time though, I drop the clicker after and start unbuckling the studded belt shimmering with decorate, menacing studs.
Sara León
Your fingers trail across my damp skin, making it prickle in their wake, while I keep my gaze lowered and continue gasping, feeling the stabbing pain of the handcuffs around my wrists, which are still bleeding. I bite my lower lip when you remind me that I haven't answered you. It's not even because I don't want to, and I think you actually know that. Then another shock suddenly courses through my entire body. "AAGGHHBHHBHBHGHGHGHGRGRGRGMMFFFFF!!" Every muscle in my body tenses and my reddened vision clouds over, until the new jolt leaves me hanging from my arms once again. I begin to lose feeling in my arms and shoulders, feeling them go numb from the position as my head falls forward again, my damp chest rising and falling, once more revealing my ragged, broken gasps
Mina Anderson
I can't help but wonder, as I watch you thrash and hang while the echo of the charge works its way through those powerful muscles, did you mean to put my lights out when you feathered that farewell kiss on my cheek and spiked my skull with that final pile driver, or was it simply a happy accident. The mercy of my own bodies limitations that ended that ordeal. Would you ever have been satisfied or would there be more humiliating, more devastation, more agony for me and the stunned crowd endure. Perhaps that's why I have bound with them that better, for successful women envy? I do not know. But I do know that if I don't give you time right now, exhaustion could take you before I'm done so perhaps I understand. If an angel can ever truly understand a monster? "It' almost over, you're almost there lioness." I explain, plain and even. The studs on my belt scrape across the floor in that way that makes skin crawl as I drag it along with me and move in close again. "You're doing very well.. But after the belt.. It's the hair straighteners.. I'd hate to scar you. But you set the rules for this when you scarred me. Do you understand". WHen I cup your face, its aggressive and tight enough to hollow your cheeks and pucker your lips. "So my question.... What was it.. What did you enjoy?" Those studds are rippling their way up your inner thigh. "How I cried.. How I felt? How I looked suffering with my shorts pulled up and my skirt pulled down?". Now the venom is back. That wasn't a question. It was an accusation under the intense blue gaze that seems to peer right into your soul!
Sara León
"Ungh!" Your fingers dig into my cheeks and my lips pucker forward, my entire face lifting and tilting sharply forward, forced by your hand. My reddened eyes finally meet yours. I can see that you're serious. You're not mocking me or trying to hurt me just for the sake of it; you're genuinely looking for an answer. I feel the metal studs of your belt beginning to travel up my bare thigh. A shiver runs through me, and my gaze narrows as your question becomes more direct and more aggressive. Your blue eyes look like an ocean on the verge of a storm, and I feel like I can't hide from you. I answer almost before you finish your last question. "ALL OF IT!!" I scream at you, unable to articulate the words completely clearly because of the position of my mouth. "The feeling of power, of domination... Of revenge, against someone who had insulted me... The vulnerability of someone beautiful..." My voice gradually fades as your hypnotic blue eyes push me to whisper something more. "I loved seeing the fear in your eyes... It made me feel like a... goddess..." The weight of the confession shows in my eyes, which flicker for a few seconds as I speak, and for an instant you can see in them the Sara you met in the ring, but they quickly dim, returning to the color of shame
Mina Anderson
Your response, when it comes more like an involuntary muscle spasm than something deliberate shocks even me. I'm not sure if I didn't quite believe it or if I expect you to lie or deflect but for a long moment, I stand silent, the tip of my tongue curled against my teeth. "Thank you... Sara". I whisper as my grip loosens around your mouth, and my lips, so soft, glistening with moisture and so plush feather across yours, leaving a trail of moisture that connects us briefly, til that string of spittle snaps and recoils. "I think... I think I could sense it and...." And there's one more question lingering on the tip of my tongue. Is it the flash of the Lioness in your eyes that stops me? Or I am simply scared to go over that cliff and see what I might find on that horizon. My finger tips, I realise as I blink, are again hooked under your waist. Just enough to taut tension stretching through the fabric as my belt sweeps on up. It snaps back again before that sensation has time to blossom and a much safer sting lingers instead. "Spread your legs Lioness"
Sara León
That silence feels eternal to me. I watch you process my answer through your eyes, and finally you release my cheeks, giving me a little relief before making your lips brush against mine in a gesture that somehow feels far too intimate for reasons I can't explain. When you pull away, I swallow hard but don't stop looking at you. Then I groan as I feel the familiar sting of the fabric against my skin, and my gaze slides downward just as you give me the command. I raise my head again, looking at you in confusion. "What?"
Mina Anderson
"Heheheh! The lioness finally found her roar again!" I exclaim in mocking laughter. It was more of a bewildered squeak but it serves it purpose. In my mind, it gives me the green light I need to for one last flurry. Maybe I would have any way, but the challenge makes it flow more easily when I twist my body and fling that thick leather through the air. It unfurls and lashes across your body and each studd thuds and bites across your skin! After you left me scared. Needing my nose reset and my jaw wired it would be break my heart if you didn't have to wear this ordeal. "Suit yourself" THe next lash cracks around the side of your thigh and the belt coils inward and finds the back of both leads with the same heavy, hot and spiteful burst of pain. One more whips across your stomach before I'm panting and satisfied you've had enough. "This has been interesting, don't you think?" I exhale as I move over to your table and sit myself on it. "But we should get down to business, shouldn't we?"
Sara León
"WOOAAAAGHHH!!" I really don't know why I wasn't expecting that lash, but the surprise makes the blow hurt even more. The leather strikes my skin as the studs dig into it, instantly causing multiple points of pain and opening new, fresh wounds in my flesh. I'm left completely breathless, trying to process the pain and surprise, but your second lash is already on its way. My thighs jerk with the new blow, more pain and more blood spilling from them and running down onto my white and violet boots, staining them bright red as the trembling becomes so intense that I end up hanging from my battered wrists again. And finally, "AUUUGGHHHHHH!!!" My abs take the third lash, leaving a horizontal red mark that also starts bleeding, staining my white trunks and leaving my entire body trembling from head to toe. My eyes well up again, but no tears fall this time, I just stare fixedly at the floor, trying to steady my labored breathing. The lioness has been tamed
Mina Anderson
I'm not surprised you've fallen silent after those stinging, blood spilling welts. That doesn't really matter. You've said all I wanted to hear and more. Maybe it will be good for you to face all those fears, pay for them and... you will, albeit it more beaten up than Erin's more elegant humbling left you. "I think.... That's enough... don't you?" I say matter of factly as I fold the belt up and set it down beside me so I can wipe the sweat of my palms with my pants. "That's what Mercy sounds like Sara. But I'll go on better. I'm going to give you a choice of sorts.". I pause, letting my gaze linger on your heavy, hanging frame. "That title shot you offered me, that was to avoid a conversation... just like this, wasn't it?". I'm sure enough to keep going. "But I'm going to accept it anyway. In a match that Sara the noble, brave champion can't win. But Sara the cowardly lioness can.". I'm starting to pack up my things as I talk. "So you'll have a choice. Make me say "I quit" and you can keep that belt anchoring you down. But you wont be able to hide behind it anymore. Everyone will see what you are. The monster that's scared of the light. Or.. You can be free from it all" I'm heading toward the door when I glance back. "That's my thanks to you. You showed me how strong I am... And just who you are". Soon after I leave you hanging for the staff to find tomorrow, the screen goes blank. I'm out of bluetooth range. And soon.. I'm sleeping more soundly than I have in weeks.
Published: 11 days ago, viewed 61 times.
Hana Jeong
10 days agoOMG what happened here? This was amazing, girls. P.S.: the water detail was sublime
Sara León
10 days agoNOIR News:
This morning, N.E.W. Champion Sara León was found unconscious in her locker room, physically restrained and with multiple injuries across her body. She is currently in the hospital, completely out of danger, and is expected to make a swift recovery and return to competition soon. Sara has categorically refused to speak about what happened last night, so the identity of the person responsible for the attack remains unknown. We will keep you updated.