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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UCu4wXgGQz0&list=RDUCu4wXgGQz0&start_radio=1
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UCu4wXgGQz0&list=RDUCu4wXgGQz0&start_radio=1

Madame_Mercy: The first bass drop hits, and I strut through the curtain like I own this place! Every neck in the room snaps and eyes shift to me. Jaws dropping like dominos as my bunny corset hugs every inch of my irresistible frame, pushing up the goods just right. The tiny tail bouncing behind me is just the cherry on top. Blonde waves tumbling over my shoulders, catching the light just right as glossy red lips curl into that wicked little smirk that says, “You’re already mine." My ankle high boots commanding respect with each stomp I take towards that ring, taking the OPCW arena as my own before we've even begun! My long thick thigh stretched up onto that apron, lunging myself up before taking a deep bend over the middle rope. Stepping over, nice and slow, making sure the camera's catch the rear-view of my assets as I head inside.

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Georgia_Ellenwood:

Georgia_Ellenwood: Having an opponent as great as Madame mercy to face is always an honour for myself, and as much as I respect her, I know beating her will make me and a lot of fans happy🤭. Making my way to the ring, you might be surprised that we are about the same weight, with you carrying a lot more at the front and the rear, but it's my dense skeletal mass to thank for that. I look a lot more like a typical athlete, while Madame looks like a model that can also throw down in the ring. No disrespect at her at all, in fact that just means I need to be on it even more...

The lights flare pink to match the theme playing, while I come out in a very sporty attire, showcasing my physique well as I give you a little wave and a smile, my eyes fiery with excitement to fight you! Sliding into the ring, I put out my hand whilst my theme is still playing, me still vibing to the song and showing a level of sportsmanship towards yourself, whether it's something you like or not

"Let's have some fun Madame, give me everything you've got!" I say to you - at the same time taking in your incredible build.

Madame_Mercy: I tilt my head, just slightly, watching her like she’s a kitten that wandered into a lioness’s den. Leaning back against my ropes, giving her the spotlight for a moment before I inevitably steal it back. It's impressive the way you strut. Confident, yet.. demure. The way that body's carved, it was no surprise the kind of pop you were getting from the crowd. While I might be bigger in 'certain' areas, it was clear you were no push-over. The lines, the curves, what's not to admire.. I toss my hair back, and slowly march to that center. Staring down into those golden retriever eyes, trying not to fall under your spell as I nod my head, grin, and respond. "With pleasure."

Georgia_Ellenwood: Your presence, it's intimidating at first, like a prom dance to see who has the best dress. You're the popular girl, and I'm just the more modestly confident one, relatively speaking of course. You look amazing, but I cant and won't let that stop me from getting that win, and among everything, giving my all! I smile softly at your response and get to my corner, waiting for the bell to ring for us to go at it...

Madame_Mercy: I slowly backpedal into my corner, waiting for the referee to finish checking my gear. The lights fall right over the ring as the crowd starts to quiet. I glare at you from afar, hear that bell ring, and immediately step out. I swing my arms, stretching them towards as my feet slowly start to trail a circle around the canvas. Watching you close, and inching a little bit closer to the middle with each step.

Georgia_Ellenwood: I ease out of my corner once the bell rings, jaw clenched, expression unreadable. My trainers echo softly against the canvas as I start to circle with you—mirroring your steps. We're nearly the same size, nearly the same build, and I know that means this fight could come down to who breaks focus first. Not me. My eyes stay locked on yours. You’re beautiful—there’s no denying that—but that thought gets buried under the buzz in my veins and the weight of the moment. This isn’t a photoshoot. This is OPCW. This is about grit, control, and who walks out of here with their arm raised. And who looks the best while doing it tbf🤭

I shake out my arms once, shoulders rolling loose, body light on the balls of my feet. I notice the tension in your stance, the way you're edging in with purpose—testing me, seeing how I respond. I don’t take the bait. Not yet. I finally close the space just enough to raise my hands—fingers spread and loose—inviting the tie-up. "You want to start this classic?" I mutter, just loud enough for you to hear. A little smirk tugs at the corner of my lips, but my eyes stay sharp, ready to snap into action the moment you take that step.

Madame_Mercy: "Mm. yeah.. Classic." With a held back giggle, I lunge forward! Planting my knee high boot into the canvas and outstretching both of my arms for yours! Instead of your hands, I lean a little deeper and catch your shoulders instead! I didn't want to drive you back, no... I want you CLOSER. Gripping the balls of your shoulders and yanking you towards me! Looking to drive your feet in, and bring those abs close as I rocket my knee straight up to crush those bricks! "HYAGH!!"

Georgia_Ellenwood: Your knee crashes into my abs and I grunt, a sharp exhale escaping as the shock pulses through my core—but I don’t break. My arms instinctively clamp around your waist, drawing you in tight, locking our bodies chest to chest. My forehead presses into your shoulder, breath hot against your collarbone. You wanted me close—you got it. But I’m not just holding. My fingers dig into your back and I drive my knee up in return—snapping it upward, aiming to bury it right into your midsection with force. A rough grunt tears from my throat as I throw it, fueled by grit and the fire spreading across my abs.

“I can play that game too,” I growl through clenched teeth, my arms still locked around your body, refusing to let go.We're locked in a brutal clinch now—smooth skin, tight grips, knees trading like loaded shots. The crowd’s volume builds with each connection, that tight, raw buzz of two fighters refusing to give an inch. Your body shifts, I feel your grip tense again... so what are you going to next is what I'm thinking

Madame_Mercy: I feel the shutter of your body as I drill my knee through your core, expecting to have crushed the wind from your body. I bite on my lower lip, pleasured by the sounds of your moan. For a second, you had me believing I had an advantage, but instead of taking your wind.. I've only fueled you more. "BAAWUUUGH!!" My eyes explode wide, my body jolting from the canvas, and I'm left gasping for the air I just blurted out! I gulp down my nerves, trying to recover and still holding onto you tight. "Aagh-RAAGH!" Instead, I claw into your shoulders and thrust both arms out! Shoving you back, hoping to break the clinch and send you into the ropes to slingshot back!

Georgia_Ellenwood: Your shove hits hard—palms to my shoulders, arms snapping out with pure desperation—and I stumble backward, boots sliding. My spine meets the ropes with a sharp thwip, the tension biting across my back before they launch me forward like a bullet. But my eyes are locked on you now. I saw that look. That burst of panic. That gasp. That moment when you realized your knee wasn’t enough. So I charge back in—not wild, not reckless. Calculated. As I rocket toward you, I dip my shoulder low at the last second and launch upward, looking to spear my right shoulder clean into your ribs! Not a full-blown tackle—but a short-range pop—just enough to lift you off balance and knock the wind from your lungs in return for the gift you gave me earlier.

Madame_Mercy: I step back, listening to the sling of those ropes and waiting with arms-spread wide! Ready to catch you stumbling back from the ropes, but you're shooting back like a bull seeing red! My eyes wide, realizing I won't be able to catch you and trying to brace in time for impact! Your shoulder crashing into my ribs, feeling a slight buckle in my knees. "OOOFF.." Hissing under my teeth, holding my chest as I stumble back trying to catch my balance. Still feeling the recoil.. "Uuumpgh... w-wow..."

Georgia_Ellenwood: I follow through—wrapping my arms around the back of your thighs mid-impact and hauling you up, trying to pop you off your feet with a fierce grunt. I twist my hips and drop down into the canvas, aiming to spike you with a modified spinebuster, the back of your shoulders and tailbone crashing into the mat hard enough to shake the ropes. The crowd explodes, unsure who’s in control—but I stay on you, one arm tight across your waist, my chest rising and falling fast, the heat between us boiling. “Still think I’m moaning for you?” I whisper, voice low and charged, as I press in—waiting to see how you’ll answer. This eagerness to lift this early could go against me, but it could also yield a good reward, so my confidence is not unwarranted.

Madame_Mercy: Your arms clamp around my luscious thighs and I feel the sudden lift. My stomach drops as you swing me through the air and whip me straight down! THWAACK! "AAAAWWWWGHH!!" My back and tailbone crash first, body bouncing off the canvas from the sheer impact. Feeling the whiplash through my spine as I instantly arch up and reach for it. Trying to hold and mend the pain, hissing and heaving as I sit there almost disabled for a moment.

Georgia_Ellenwood: I feel your body jolt beneath me the moment you bounce off the canvas, the sound of the impact ringing out like a gunshot in the tight air of the arena. Your scream, raw and unfiltered, tells me everything I need to know—I got all of it. The way your back arches, hands flying instinctively to your spine, and that helpless sit-up… yeah, it confirms it. But I don’t celebrate. I don’t pause.

Because I know moments like this don’t last long—and you’re too tough, too dangerous, to leave breathing room. So as you’re hunched forward, reaching for your back, I step behind you, dropping to one knee and threading my arms under yours—locking in a tight full nelson. My forearms dig in, pressing against the sides of your skull, and I wrench back with control, keeping your body bent awkwardly, shoulders stretched, spine screaming even more. “Hurts, huh?” I growl near your ear, sweat flowing from my forehead onto your neck. “Should’ve kept me at a distance.”But I don’t fully commit to the hold forever—it’s a setup. If I feel you starting to resist or twist your hips to slip out, I’ll release the nelson on my terms, snap my arms around your waist instead, and pop my hips to German suplex you straight back into the mat before you can stand. You’re hurting. I’m tired. But right now? I’ve got the initiative. Wary that we are still early into the match.

Madame_Mercy: My back still screaming from that last drop when your arms snake under mine. Before I'm fully aware, my arms are trapped in the air, hooked behind my head while my breasts are thrusted forward and displayed for the crowd. Every jerk of my body making them bounce, and that only added to the pain and stress of this snap-shut hold. I can feel your breath over my shoulder as you hold tight, my teeth gritting together, and my blood pressure starting to rise.. Now you've really started to piss me off. The second you loosen your grip, I drive my right heel back and STOMP over your toes for the stun! ~ "Oh... You're mine now!" I reach back over my shoulder to grab your face, then with a slight twist in my hip, I jump and fall into a perfect splits while whipping your face down and BUSTING your jaw against my shoulder for a Stunner!

Georgia_Ellenwood: CRACK!! Your heel nails my foot—white-hot pain jolts up my leg as the stomp forces me to loosen just for a split second—just long enough. Your voice hits my ear with venom, and then everything goes fast. I see your arm whip up and back—fingers clawing for my face—and before I can rip my head away, you're already twisting. My jaw gets yanked down onto your shoulder as you drop into a brutal split— BOOM! My head whiplashes back, mouth flung open from the shock as your stunner blasts through my jaw like a live wire. My arms fling wide and I’m launched backward off your shoulders, hitting the mat with a hard thud, eyes blinking rapid, one hand instinctively going to my mouth. The crowd erupts.

I roll once to the side, stunned—jaw throbbing, lips parted, trying to suck in breath. My trainers scuff against the mat as I try to get back to my knees, still foggy, my eyes squinting as I see you perched in that dramatic split, chest rising, body glowing with sweat and adrenaline and vengeance against the bright lights. You got me. But I’m still moving. I clutch at the ropes nearby, trying to use them to pull myself up—but my jaw’s hanging loose and my balance isn’t right for now. I turn my head slightly, glaring through a smirk at you. It’s your window. Do you press the advantage? Or do you let me breathe—risk me rising again?

Madame_Mercy: I fall forward out of the splits, onto my hands and knees with my head turned to watch you explode into the air, and collapse to the canvas! Truly a sight to behold. I roll up onto my feet, taking a slow strut around your body.. just analyzing, and enjoying. Stopping when I get behind your head, and bending right over to grip your shoulders and seat you up. I look to my left with a grin, then to the right.. Then I fall back, kicking both of my irresistibly thick thighs out around your head and shutting them tight! My ankles tied against your breasts, growling as I wriggle and squeeze you in! Hoping to clamp around those ears, smothering you with these curvaceous legs as I lay back and lean into a little Head-Scissors.

Georgia_Ellenwood: "Ghh—!” The moment your thighs snap around my head, I feel the shockwave—not just from the sudden compression on my skull, but from the crowd erupting at the sight of you locking it in with that confident strut, that showboating grin. You earned their reaction, and damn, you're milking it. Your grip tightens. My ears are pressed flat, your inner thighs crushing in with deliberate force. My cheek is mashed to soft skin and muscle, every second squeezing the air from my lungs. The mat is beginning to stain with sweat beneath me now, and your ankles are locked just under my chest—cutting off my balance and slowing my breath. My pulse pounds in my ears. My fingers twitch against your legs. But I’m not done.

As your hips shift to lock it in deeper, I plant my palms to the mat—arching my body slightly. I feel your control, feel the strength you’re pouring into this… and I dig deep. My right foot drags across the canvas, reaching… reaching for the ropes—just close enough to spark hope. The crowd spots it and starts stomping, clapping, sensing the desperation. “Come on, Georgia!” someone yells from the front row—and I grit my teeth behind the pressure as I start to shift sideways, trying to pivot just enough to rotate my body, drag us both inch by inch toward the edge. My neck burns. My ribs ache. But the ropes are right there. And if I get close enough, I’ll try to swing a leg—maybe clip that bottom rope with my ankle, or stretch out an arm to hook the middle. You can feel me writhing. Fighting. My lean body shining in the light, jaw clenched against your hold. I’m not just trying to survive this—I'm looking for the break, for the escape, for the opening.

Do you squeeze tighter? Shift position? Or maybe go for something even nastier? Because if I make it to the ropes… you’ll only have five seconds to let go.

Madame_Mercy: My thighs smushing your cute little cheeks, swallowing that face whole between the most powerful pair of legs this side of the OPCW. Your choked up moans getting louder, and each kick a little stronger than the other. Slowly, our bodies start to slide closer and close to the rope. But you weren’t getting away that easy. “Mm, oh no you don’t!” Still on my face, that same evil grin. Telling the crowd more than I could with actual words. Before you catch those ropes, I twist my hips and turn us over! Forcing you onto your hands and knees, but your head still caught hovering in the air between my legs. I catch myself in a push- up, staring back at the crowd. They know what time it is.. It’s Skull-Fucker time. “Watch this!” Then kick up, thrusting my hips high before swinging your face straight down to smash onto the canvas! Then kicking back up to lift your face, and smashing it down! Over, and over, and over. Each thrust forcing that toned back to arch, getting those deliciously toned butt-cheeks to spread for the cameras as I paint your lip-stick to the canvas. THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD!

Georgia_Ellenwood:

Georgia_Ellenwood: THUD! THUD! THUD! Each slam sends a shockwave through my skull, my breath hitching, legs twitching beneath me as my body starts to betray me. My hands are splayed wide on the mat, fingers trembling, trying to push back—but there's no leverage. Not like this. Not when your thighs are locked so tight around my head and you’re driving me into the mat like a piston. The crowd roars—some stunned silent, some on their feet in disbelief. My face is flushed, half from the blood rushing to it, half from the oxygen being squeezed out with every bounce. My trainers scrape helplessly against the mat—no grip, no traction—just squeaks of desperation as my hips start to droop, abs twitching with each blow.

THUD! THUD! Your voice cuts through the noise, smug and wicked, and the worst part? I hear it. I’m still aware. That’s the torment. I’m present for every humiliating impact, every moment your thighs crush my cheeks, your rhythm flattening me out while the canvas drinks in my lipstick and sweat like a sponge. I moan—half pain, half suffocation. My arms are jelly now, barely able to hold my upper body. My head's hanging, pressed between the vice of your thighs, and with one last slam, my limbs drop. Face down. Legs kicked out behind me, twitching slightly, my body splayed in a defeated sprawl with nothing but your grip keeping me from fully collapsing. The crowd sees it. The ref sees it.I’m not unconscious… but I’m right there. Heavily dazed for the moment... Your call—do you let go to go for the pin? Or do you make this punishment last a little longer?

Madame_Mercy: I loosen my legs and donkey kick my legs back to set you free. Taking my time to slowly pick myself up from the still-rattling canvas. Tossing back the hair in my face, and licking my cherry-stained lips to the sudden pop of the crowd! Yeah, they fucking love me. I turn, and with a swift bend I take your arm to drag you back up! Using your wobbly feet to my advantage as I twist my body, swing my arms and take you for a ride! Whipping you across the ring to hit the far ropes, and watching for that rebound!

Georgia_Ellenwood: Your thighs unlatch from my head with a snap, and my face slumps to the mat—damp, breathless, lips parted as I suck in desperate air. I don’t move right away. My arms are slack, cheek pressed to the canvas, and my legs are just starting to respond again—trembling, weak in the trainers that offered me no traction when I needed it most. The sound of the crowd pops loud as you rise, and even through the haze in my head, I can feel their energy shift. They're behind you. Right now, this ring is yours.

You grab my arm and haul me up, and I stumble—barely keeping upright, my feet dragging like dead weight. I sway once, my back arched and ribs heaving, before you twist and whip me across the ring. My trainers screech against the mat as I pick up speed, chest rising with every gasping breath as I hit the ropes with a sharp snap against my spine. Rebound. I come flying back, the motion doing most of the work as my feet barely keep pace with the momentum. I’m dazed—face red, hair stuck to my cheeks, but there’s still something there. A flicker of instinct surging with oxygen coming back to me. My arms are loose at my sides, my footing clumsy—one wrong move from either of us could flip the entire match. You’ve got one shot to intercept me clean—go for a strike, a hold, a slam. Because if you don’t? This might be the breath I needed to claw my way back in.

Madame_Mercy: I take a step back, waving you towards me with my arms! Like I'm leading you right where I want you.. Your feet off balance, almost like you had no control! "Mhm.. Right here.. Come to mommy..." Those pretty blonde locks flying through the air behind you, watching you get closer and closer. My right leg cocked back, cooking slow and waiting for the moment... SNAP! I kick my boot straight up, fast and HARD! Looking to bust your jaw with a violent Super-Kick into that pretty little face of yours!

Madame_Mercy:

Georgia_Ellenwood:

Georgia_Ellenwood: CRACK!! Your boot snaps up like a trap springing shut—fast, brutal, right on time. And I run right into it. My jaw explodes with pain as your superkick lands flush against my face—snapping my head back with such force that sweat sprays off my skin in a fine mist. The crowd gasps as my body folds mid-stride, knees buckling beneath me as I drop to the canvas like a puppet with its strings cut.

THUD. Flat on my back. Arms sprawled wide. Legs limp. My chest rises in shallow, uneven breaths. That pretty little face? Now slack, lips parted, a red flush spreading across my cheek and jaw from the sheer force of your shot. My blonde hair is fanned out beneath me like a halo—but the crowd knows better. That wasn’t angelic. That was devastating. There’s no movement for a few seconds. No resistance. Just the heavy sound of my breathing, the referee dropping down to check my state, and the crowd roaring at the sheer violence of that strike.

I’m down. Badly. This might be your moment to go for the pin. Or… maybe you’re not done sending a message yet.

Madame_Mercy: The loud CRACK of your face gets the entire crowd wincing. And I could have sworn I saw a tooth fly right out of your mouth before that landing. I march over, staring down at your carved out, but totally battered body. My first thought? Pin this bitch. But, no. You don't get off that easy. I look up into the camera's, seeing so many faces of confusion in the crowd.. I smirk, then suddenly bend down and grab your some-what limp wrist! "GET UP!" Yanking hard, ripping your body up from the canvas so violently before twisting my heels and whipping you across the ring! Sending you back first into the buckles!

Georgia_Ellenwood: CRASH! My back slams into the corner, the turnbuckles rattling from the force as I slump forward, arms dangling loosely over the top ropes. My head hangs, hair falling in front of my face like a curtain, chest heaving in shallow, ragged breaths. My legs are barely holding me up, knees dipped inward, trainers scuffing along the canvas with every twitch. The crowd quiets just a little—not out of boredom, but that kind of hush where people aren’t sure if they’re watching a match or a moment.

The impact clearly rattled me—maybe more than just my footing. My jaw hangs open slightly, lip smeared red from that brutal superkick. One hand tries to hold the ropes, fingers weakly curling around them but never quite finding a grip. My body sways gently with each breath, like it’s trying to decide whether to stay standing or just… fall. No words from me. No defiance. Just the sound of breath and pain—and the look of a fighter who might not know where she is right now. The only thing left… is you. And what you do next.

Madame_Mercy: Your body slumped in the corner, chest rising and falling in desperate little gasps. That shiver in your skin like you knew exactly what was coming. My head tilts to the side, as if to analyze a work of art. Drinking you in, and absolutely enjoying every second of this. I lean in and slow, reaching around your thighs and hugging tight to lift your body up from the canvas! Hauling you up to plant that booty on the top buckle, setting you up for something... extra. I smack the top of your head, then grab onto the roots of your blonde mane. "Mm, come here!" Yanking down, forcing your body to tip and bend down to my level as I rest your head over the gigantic shelf of my breasts. "Grmgh.. Let's.. show you OFF!" With you in position, I quickly attempt to reach around for the backs of your knees and grab tight, scrunching that flexible body of yours and hoisting you up onto my shoulder! Looking to get those legs in the air, spreading that ass apart in a matchbook position. Your boots dangling in the air, keeping that spine arched over my tits. The crowd in awe..

Madame_Mercy:

Georgia_Ellenwood: My body feels like dead weight in your arms—my limbs dragging, sweat-slick skin pliant and overheated as you haul me up, thighs draped over your arms. The crowd is buzzing, a low roar that rises with every humiliating inch you lift me. My back arches over your chest, face dangling just above that smug smirk of yours, blonde hair spilling down toward the canvas like a ribbon unraveling. The slap to the back of my head stings more than it hurts—meant to show dominance, not do damage. But when you grab that fistful of hair and pull me down across your chest, arching my spine over that powerful body of yours, something clicks.

You’re showing off. You're confident—maybe too confident. The matchbook position is flashy, humiliating, picture-perfect for the crowd… but it takes time to set up, and you’re counting on me to stay dead weight. And yeah, I’m limp. Drenched in sweat. Beat up and breathless. But just as your hands start to slip under my knees to finish the lock-in—that’s when I move.Not big. Not dramatic. Just a subtle shift in my hips. A sudden clamp of my thighs. A tight twist of my upper body as I grab your head with both hands—using your own grip on my legs to yank you down with me as I throw my weight backward. Trying to turn your showboating setup into a tight DDT reversal, spiking your skull hard into the mat before you can finish the pose.

The crowd explodes, unsure of what just happened—was it desperation? Instinct? Or just a spark of fight that you didn’t see coming? If it lands, I flop beside you, still gasping, still wrecked—but very much alive... and smirking at you.

Madame_Mercy: The silence in the arena was loud. Every jaw on the floor, waiting, watching for what could possibly come next. They almost didn't want to believe it. Some worried, others desperate for some serious carnage. The moment my hands grasp your legs, the limp in your body was no more. I stop for a moment, wondering what just shifted, feeling the goosebumps down my spine like something bad was about to happen.. Just as I lift you off the buckle, your hands smack my ears and grab on tight! "WHAT~ .. NO!"..... You're back! Swinging your body-weight off the buckle, taking me for a spin as you whip me straight down! Falling right off of me feet, spiking my face right into the ring! "GAAAAAAAUGGH! PUUGH!" Face-full of canvas, lip-stick smeared, and my hair all over the place! My thick ass quivering as I land flat, almost totally paralyzed. The only movement out of my body, are the pained spasms of my battered muscles.

Georgia_Ellenwood: BOOM! Your face hits the canvas like a meteor, the whiplash snapping through your thick frame as I drive you down with every ounce of whatever’s left in me. The crowd erupts—not cheering, not booing, just losing it. Shocked gasps. Disbelief. A few fans clutching their heads as if they took the hit. And I’m still down too—barely. My body sags beside yours, trembling, chest heaving in panicked, uneven bursts. My trainers scuff weakly as I try to push up to a knee, eyes blinking against the blur of sweat, pain, and adrenaline. But then I see you... Flat... Face down.

Your lips crushed against the canvas, legs limp, that heavy backside twitching slightly from the aftershocks in your spine. Your arms spread wide like a starfish—no defense, no resistance. Just spasms and silence. The crowd knows. I know. Now's the time. I suck in a shaky breath and lunge forward, crawling over your back, draping my body across yours. One arm snakes around your waist, the other hooks your leg tight—pulling it up high as I roll you onto your back with effort, your body heavy and disoriented beneath me. I hook the leg deep. Press my chest down on yours... your masterpiece of a body laid out giving me life. Face inches from yours, I whisper breathlessly, "You showed me off... now it's my turn." And then I look to the ref— COUNT IT.

Madame_Mercy: Laid out, crushed and spread like a broken offering. My body at it's wit's end. And then I feel you start to crawl over me, rolling me over like a rag-doll as you drape yourself across my body. Staring into the hazy lights, burning so bright over me. Almost.. blinding. Your arm neatly wrapped around my thigh, taking your time, and enjoying every minute. "uuughh.." A little moan escaping my lips as you push onto my chest, feeling the warmth of your breath as it hits my face. "n~ no.." I just.. can't seem to move. I can't see the referee, only feeling the shake of the canvas as he slams his hand down for the count! THUD! "ONE!" The crowd’s screaming, but it feels far away, like I’m underwater. THUD! "TWO!" THR- "NO!" My body jolts.. barely. The referee's voice like a shot of adrenaline, waking me just milliseconds from my doom.

Georgia_Ellenwood: “NO!” Your shoulder lifts—barely—but enough. The ref halts mid-slap, holding up two fingers as the crowd erupts, a mix of shock, relief, and awe at the madness unfolding in the ring. I collapse onto my side next to you, chest rising and falling like a jackhammer, my blonde hair soaked and clinging to my face as I stare at the ceiling in disbelief. But then—I breathe in. And something shifts. The pain’s still there, sharp and gnawing through my core, but behind it? That second wind. That tiny flame. Like someone struck a match in my chest and it caught fire. I roll over, grit my teeth, and shove up to my feet—not fast, not clean, but determined. The crowd feels it. They start pounding the barricades, sensing the shift... the crowd acting like barbarians!

I look down at you—wrecked, stunned, your body barely moving beneath the haze—and I smile with fire in my eyes.“You're incredible.” I grab your wrist and rip you up, yanking your limp body off the mat, stumbling a bit as I haul you upright. My hand flies to the back of your neck, dragging you forward—your chest colliding with mine as I lean in close, almost intimate. Then—SMACK!—I look to clasp both hands behind your head and snap you into a tight Muay Thai clinch. No teasing. No taunting. Just violence... the aim being to drive my knees into your torso and break your bombshell body down!

Madame_Mercy: My head’s spinning, still trying to catch up to the match I was supposed to already have won. You yank me off the mat with a fist around my wrist, dragging my body up like I’m nothing. "GUUH!?" My labored breaths starting to get even louder as you smack both hands around my head and pull me in! Bent slightly forward, body exposed, and feeling somewhat trapped. But the adrenaline's back, and everything finally starts to clear. I swing both hands low, snatching that waist and lifting your feet right up from the canvas! I plant my knee forward and attempt to have you land between your thighs as they spread mid-air!

Georgia_Ellenwood: The crowd's roar shifts in pitch—a sharp turn from anticipation to shock as you scoop me clean off my feet. My hands are locked around your head, the clinch tight… until your arms wrap around my waist and lift. My boots leave the canvas, and I feel that split-second drop in my gut—the kind that warns you're about to regret something. Your knee rises, sharp and sudden—aiming straight between my thighs. “AGHHHHH—!” My whole body seizes, legs flailing and spreading instinctively as the blow connects. Pain explodes through my hips, sharp and paralyzing, my breath catching in my throat as my body folds forward over your shoulder.

The crowd gasps in unison—half in horror, half in brutal admiration of the timing, the savagery. I clutch at your back, face contorted in a mix of shock and pain, the hold completely lost. My body twitches, legs kicking once in protest before they drop limp, trainers dragging lightly along the mat as my arms go slack around your shoulders. My second wind? Crushed. Just like me. For now at least. But I’m not out—not yet. My cheek presses against your collarbone, sweat dripping from my jaw as I groan low in your ear, body trembling. You’ve broken the rhythm.

The question now is… can you finish the job before I find a third wind? Or will you let your own adrenaline take you one step too far?

Madame_Mercy: I stand there, breathing hard, cradling you tight while your arms fall limp over my shoulders. Your moans like music to my ears. I take a moment to breathe, resting your now busted pelvis over my knee. Looking into those pained eyes, watching the droplets of sweat fall down your battered face. I slowly pull back my knee, hoping your legs don't give out before I squat and lean down low and throw my arm up between your thighs. Trying to explode back up, hoping you'll fall across my shoulders.

Georgia_Ellenwood: My limbs dangle helplessly over your shoulders, the sting between my thighs radiating outward like fire licking up my spine. My jaw hangs open, chest rising and falling with shallow, shuddering gasps. Every breath I take feels like it’s dragging broken glass through my lungs. You cradle me like a prize—one earned through cruelty, grit, and the sheer violence we’ve both endured to get here. My trainers drag lightly across the mat, my knees barely holding shape as you rest me over your thigh. My pelvis pulses with pain, body twitching as your eyes meet mine. I can barely hold the gaze—my head hangs, sweat dripping from my brow to your chest, pooling in the space between us. Every part of me says stay down.

Then you squat low. Your arm threads between my thighs, and I can feel the tension in your body building again—coiled tight, ready to explode. But as you begin to lift—I twitch. A sharp jolt of instinct, not strength. My hands flinch, brushing along the side of your face as you hoist me up, my torso starting to fold across your broad shoulders. The crowd’s on their feet—half chanting for mercy, half demanding carnage. I’m being loaded—you want that big move. You want the final exclamation point. And I’m barely conscious enough to realize it’s coming... that knee really shut me down badMy body is across your shoulders now, spine arched, head hanging back, hair cascading toward the mat like a curtain being drawn on the final act. Can you hit it before I collapse? Can I survive it if you do?

Madame_Mercy: I march to the center of the ring, holding your head with one arm, and your legs with the other! Flexing my shoulders, stabilizing myself as I tilt my head up and look to the crowd. They know what's coming, and they're ready! "NO MERCY!" They scream in unison. And with a long wicked smile across my face, I toss your legs back, spinning your body as I drop flat to the canvas and attempt to whip you down to smash those tits, and crush that gorgeous face into the ring!

Georgia_Ellenwood:

Georgia_Ellenwood: WHAM!! The ring shakes beneath us like a thunderclap as my body slams face-first into the canvas, driven down by the full force of your momentum. My chest crushes against the mat with a sickening smack, my face bouncing once before going limp—blonde hair splaying wild across the ring like a halo of defeat. The sound of impact alone is enough to make even the rowdiest fans fall silent for half a second. Then the roar hits.

“HOLY SHT! HOLY SHT!” My arms lie twisted beneath me, unmoving. My trainers are splayed out awkwardly, legs completely still. The rise and fall of my breath is barely visible—shallow, uneven, like whatever flame was burning inside me just got snuffed out in front of thousands. The referee kneels down beside me quickly, checking for signs of life. A hand waves once above my face—little response. My cheek is pressed to the canvas, lips parted, eyes shut with flutters showing the embers of fight on the brink. The pain, the pressure, the humiliation—all of it settles over me like a weight I can’t lift.

Right now? I’m not fighting back, but the fight still lingers.You’ve left me there—face down, crushed, still. The crowd’s thunderous. They felt that finish. But whether it’s over or whether you want to drag it out… that’s entirely in your hands.

Madame_Mercy: I hit the mat, and feel the shockwave underneath me as you land. A collective of gasps and chants erupt from the crowd, but I just sit there to relish the moment. Only for a second, then turning over and crawling onto your body! Rolling you over slow, looking up at the referee who's seemingly concerned about your condition. Who wouldn't be after a blow like that! I spill my body across your belly, snaking one arm through between your thighs and around that right leg to hook it up high! Leaning a little closer into your face as I press. A soft sensual tone in my voice "Don't move, it'll only make it worse.. hahaha" . Your shorts slightly riding up your butt, giving the camera's even more reason to stick around for this finale! THUD! "ONE! THUD! "TWO!"

Georgia_Ellenwood:

Georgia_Ellenwood: I feel your body heat crawl onto me, hearing your softly spoken threat - "Don't move, it'll only make it worse... hahaha". I'm many things... someone to listen when told to stay down? NO WAY! My body physically protests my mind's resilience for the first count... ONE!! The cameramen are doing everyone justice with plenty of angles of you folding me, my shorts rising and showing how physically fit I am, but I don't think about that at all. All I'm thinking about is survival.

My mind and body connect after TWO!! The sensation of numbness fading quickly. Fueled by pride, resilience, or stupidity, my right shoulder explodes off the mat just before three, the crowd all on their feet. WHAT DID THEY JUST SEE? Did they see a zombie just wake from the dead? Or is it that Madame doesn't have the firepower to put out the will I have? In any case - I move my face to look at you and smirk defiantly, softly muttering "Don't... tell me what to do".

Madame_Mercy: Here it comes, the final count.. True bliss! I tilt my head up, slightly loosening my grip on your leg as my lips start to stretch for a smile. But all of a sudden, something jolts from underneath me. The crowd's gone quiet, and all I can hear is you! "Huh? WOAAAGHH!" You burst from the canvas, revived out of nowhere! Your leg free'd and your shoulder just high enough to break the pin! The referee steps back and waves me off, meanwhile I'm stunned! "WHAT?!" Tumbling off of you, landing on the mat, trying to process what just happened.. "N-NO... HOW DID-...?"

Georgia_Ellenwood: I roll to my side, barely—barely—avoiding a complete collapse again, my ribs heaving, my face still scraped from the last slam, but there's life in me now. My trainers scuff against the mat as I get to a knee, neck sagging, arms trembling like wet rope… but I’m up. Sort of. You’re staring at me like you’ve just seen a ghost. Like everything you did—every hold, every impact, every perfect camera shot—just wasn’t enough. I hear your voice crack. "HOW DID—?"

And I smirk through a cut lip, lifting my head, spit and sweat dripping from my chin as I lock eyes with you. “You hit like a goddess,” I rasp, “but I don’t break like a mortal.” The crowd goes insane. Some are chanting for me now, others still riding for you, but everyone is standing. Everyone knows now—it’s no longer about dominance. It’s about who can survive. I plant one hand to the mat, then the other, dragging myself upright with the grit of someone who has no right to still be fighting. My shorts are riding high, my body is marked and spent, but my eyes? Locked in. Burning. Defiant.

You’re on your knees across from me, still trying to process what just happened, and I lunge. It’s not pretty—it’s wild, instinctive—but I launch forward with my forearm aimed high and fast, trying to smash into your chest and knock you back down before you can reset. A brawler’s move, not a wrestler’s. All adrenaline. All pride. All me. Because if this match is going to end—it’s going to end on me giving my all like always.

Madame_Mercy: Kneeling up, still trying to process what had just happened. I've seen fighting spirit, but this... this was something else. That spark in your tired eyes. A fire, burning recklessly inside of you. It was.. beautiful. Climbing to my feet, unprepared for your arm coming as it slices through the air. No form, no strategy, nothing but straight power and grit. "BLLAWWGH!" Crushing against my chest, turning my tits to shrooms as I'm thrown right down onto the canvas! The wind taken from my body, my ribs crushed, and my tits nearly deflated!

Georgia_Ellenwood: You crash to the canvas, chest-first, flattened from the sheer force of my forearm—air driven out of your lungs, your limbs splayed like you’d just been wrecked. The crowd roars, a wave of sound washing over us, but I barely hear it through the ringing in my ears and the hammering of my heart. I drop to all fours beside you, my breath coming in ragged gasps. My body is screaming, every muscle aching—but the fire? Still raging. I crawl over your back, dragging myself up until I straddle your waist, sweat dripping from my brow and onto your spine. My fingers thread through your hair from behind, yanking your head up just enough so I can see the dazed look in your eyes—the way your lips part like you're trying to say something, anything. But I don't wait. I know the level of competitor you are. And I know what I should do.

I raise my arm, looking to drive my forearm to your head and THWACK your head multiple times if enough wind has been taken from you - My intentions are perfectly clear... putting you into as much of a compromised state as you have me, only my aim is to keep you down

Madame_Mercy: your fingers dig into my hair. I groan softly, still dazed.. My head forced up, neck stretching under your grip. Eyes flutter, seeing stars as they slowly start to creak open. THWACK! Your forearm cracks down on the back of my skull and I jolt! "AAUGH!" My jaw clenches, a low, guttural cry spilling from my lips. THWACK! Then another.. "AAWGH!" THWACK! And another! The crowd wince at each blow, my head bobbing as you smack the drool right out through my teeth! "GUUGH!"

Georgia_Ellenwood: https://images.app.goo.gl/tJn7m

Georgia_Ellenwood: '''THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! ''' Each forearm strikes the back of your skull with purpose—deliberate, punishing. I see the drool fly, hear the crowd wince and gasp, your body rocking under the force of it. You're barely there, head bobbing, eyes fluttering, and for a moment—I think about going for the pin.

But no... Not yet... I need to end this my way.

I shove off you, chest heaving, my body swaying as I push up to my feet. My legs are cooked—every step feels like I’m walking through fire—but I keep going. I have to. The moment demands it. I grab under your thigh with one arm and hook the other around your neck, yanking you up with a grunt that comes from somewhere deep. Your limbs drag, boots sliding along the mat as I haul you into position—your body curled across my chest, head hanging back, sweat-slick legs loose in my grip..

The crowd knows it. The commentary table is screaming. Gold Medal Drop. I plant my trainers wide, squat low, grit my teeth—then with a deep breath, I explode upward, trying to lift you with every bit of adrenaline I have left. My grip tightens, your weight surging through my arms and back as I try to get full elevation— And if I can? I’ll spin and sit out, aiming to spike your upper back and neck into the canvas in one final, emphatic statement of survival, pride, and dominance.

But you’re not just dead weight—you’ve proven you’re dangerous as you are a bombshell. Will you stop me mid-lift? Counter on the way down? Or are you about to eat the hardest fall of the night given your state?

Madame_Mercy: Forced onto my feet, my breaths fluttering, and my body screaming in pain. Your hand smacking under my thigh, holding onto my ass-cheek for grip while the other coils around my neck for the lift! "BAAGH!" You power me up, spinning me around through the air until I land and curl across your breasts. Nothing but fear in my eyes. "N-NO.. G-GEORGIA! DON'T--" But twist and kick your feet out, falling flat on your ass and tossing me straight down onto my neck and spine! CRUNCH! "GAAAAAAWWWWUGHHH!!" The ring shakes as I let out one final battle-cry before my body gives out! Eyes spinning, chest heaving, and my body as limp as rag-doll. Staring up into the lights that start to multiply in my vision, now slowly fading...

Georgia_Ellenwood: https://images.app.goo.gl/NypB8

Georgia_Ellenwood: CRUNCH!! The sound of your body collapsing against the canvas is violent, visceral—like a tree falling in the dead of night. The Gold Medal Drop lands clean, and the whole ring seems to shudder under the weight of it. Your final scream cuts the air like a blade, and then… nothing. You’re still - Arms sprawled - Eyes wide but unfocused. Your lips part like you’re trying to form a word—but no sound comes. Just a shallow rise and fall in your chest. Just a slow, helpless blink as the lights overhead begin to blur, doubling, drifting. The crowd is stunned. The chants fall to murmurs. It’s the sound of thousands of people watching someone fall from glory.

But I’m not moving either—not right away. I’m still on the mat, arms trembling, sweat dripping like rain off my face. My spine screams. My legs twitch. I can feel my pulse in my teeth. That move took everything. I roll onto my side with a groan that barely makes it past my lips. Then—I crawl. One elbow drags forward… then the next. My trainers barely grip, legs dragging behind me. Every inch I move feels like a mile, but I will not let this chance slip away. You’re right there. Laid out. Broken.

I reach you—finally—and I drape my upper body across your chest, too exhausted to even hook a leg. My arms slump at my sides, head pressed to your collarbone, our sweat mixing in the silence... the cameramen finding every angle possible to make the most of two monsters in the shape of models having given everything they've got. The ref drops to the mat— THUD! “ONE!” The crowd roars again, coming back to life. THUD! “TWO!” My eyes squeeze shut, my body twitching, just praying it’s enough—

Madame_Mercy: Your body collapses across mine like a wave finally crashing ashore. Your arms don’t even move to hook my leg. You just lay there, tits to tits, pressing me into the canvas. The sound of the crowd slowly starting to dissolve as the lights get darker and darker. Only thing on my mind.. Gold Medal Drop. The moment it hit, my world just… detonated. I remember it like a dream laced with pain. How you powered me up with both hands, lifting me with such grace. The way you spun me with that cruel elegance, hoisting me high, my legs hooked, my arms trapped, turning me into your trophy before taking my breath with that crushing slam.. "THREE!" DING DING DING

Madame_Mercy:

Georgia_Ellenwood: DING DING DING The bell rings like a thunderclap through the haze, sealing it—finally. The match is over. But I don’t move right away. I just lay there, chest rising and falling against yours, bodies slick with sweat, still tangled in exhaustion and adrenaline. My cheek rests beside yours, and for a moment… it’s just quiet. Us. The ring. The heat between two warriors who gave everything.

Then, gently, I lift my head—hair stuck to my face, lips trembling with breath—and I press a soft kiss to your cheek. Nothing mocking. No gloating. Just… respect. The kind that only comes from war. “Thank you,” I whisper—low, broken, but real. I give your chest a light pat, fingers resting for a beat, then dragging away slowly. A final touch. A farewell to a battle that took everything. With a grunt, I push off your body—staggering as I rise. My legs almost give, trainers slipping on the sweat-slick mat, but I find my balance. The crowd erupts—on their feet, roaring not just for the win, but for the fight. For what we both just gave them. I raise a hand and wave, the other clutching my side. I look out over the sea of people, lip trembling with a soft smile—exhausted, but proud.

Then I turn to the ref, still kneeling beside you, and I gesture toward you with a weak nod.“Check on her please,” I say, voice hoarse but full of warmth.And then I step back—not above you, never that—just beside you. The victor... and the one who’ll remember this match for the rest of her life.