Atlantic Spice! Double Tag Team Debut!

Just as she had started to push herself off her stomach, Camille shrieked in pain as the baseball bat came crashing into her spine. Flopping down to the mat again, she lie sprawled out on her belly, heaving slowly as she twitched from the pain. Watching this betrayal enraged Diabella, who pulled herself upright and stormed towards her armed opponent with furious abandon. "You… cowardly… WHORE!" she roared as she raised a fist, getting ready to strike as she closed in fast.

"All's fair in love and war, darling." said Isabel as Diabella charged at her. "Oh, don't be so obvious, honey." she said, thrusting the end of the bat into the pink-haired Italian's stomach, aiming to use her momentum against her.

Karmina was nursing her back. "God, it hurts..." she said to herself in Spanish. However, she couldn't just lay down like that. Slowly, but surely, she began to get up.

As the end of the bat sunk into her beaten belly like a spear, Diabella didn't even have the air to scream, instead releasing a wet spittle out towards Isabel. The impact of the opposing forces sent her back off her feet, hitting the mat with a thud as she curled up around her exhausted belly.

For all the pain she was in, Camille gasped worriedly as her sister was struck in the stomach. With an angry snarl, she climbed to her hands and knees, panting violently as though she was actively recharging.

Isabel grinned. Her plan had worked exactly as intended, causing Diabella to fall over and curl up. "You got your spit on me. Disgusting." she said, kicking the downed Italian. "Get out of that position. You look more pathetic than usual." 

Karmina had gotten back up, only to notice Camille planning something against her sister. She had to nip this one on the bud. She ran at Camille, and aimed to hit her with a cleated big boot to the chest! "Fuck off, puta!"

Diabella groaned and whimpered in both pain and indignance, her firey Italian pride about as wounded as her delicate belly. Still, she wasn't in much of a position to do anything about it, only getting so far as bringing herself on to one hand and her knees before getting into another coughing fit.

Camille had made it all the way up to an upright kneeling position, on the other hand… that is, until a hard, cleated boot slammed into her her soft, supple breasts, the spikes sinking into squishy flesh and opening holes in the fabric of her bra. With a squeal, she flopped out onto her back, both arms crossed over her tits as she panted and whimpered.

"Poor baby. Can't handle the pain? I thought you were a big, tough mobster. Now you look like a bitch." Isabel taunted. She then sent a kick at the still recovering Italian, aiming to send her back down to the mat. "I will give you one thing. You know how to take a beating."

Karmina, meanwhile, had Camille where she wanted her. She sat down at Camille's feet, and crossed her legs. She put her leg in the middle, and began pulling upon the leg that was still rather straight, locking her in a figure-4 leglock!

With a high-pitched grunt, Diabella went flopping onto her back as another kick to her trembling midsection had her whimpering in pain. "V-vile woman," she growled, "I am only getting started." She didn't have the strength to back it up right now, though, she could only hope that her opponent would, for some reason, start taking her seriously, or that Camille was faring better than she…

Unfortunately, Camille was faring marginally better, at best, and by the time the pain in her breasts subsided she found her legs twisted and contorted with her ankle painfully shifted out of place. Her suppressed groan slowly grew towards an uninhibited scream as her hands moved her breasts to her head, her fingers running through her hair as she frantically tried to cope.

"Remember what I said about headbutts?" she asked, climbing onto Diabella. "I like to call this the 'Red Card.'" she said, before starting to batter that pink-haired head of hers with headbutt after headbutt. Sure, it hurt Isabel some, but she could power through it. Diabella, on the other hand...

Karmina once more felt a twinge of sympathy for poor Camille. However, this was a wrestling match, and they were wrestlers. Karmina pulled harder on her leg, tightening the hold and increasing the pain. "You are not feeling best anymore, are you?" she asked. "You looked so tough a little time ago."

Despite lying on her back, in pain and exhausted, Diabella's face flushed red when Isabel climbed on top of her, bringing their faces close enough for her to feel the brunette's breath on her face. At this close distance, Isabel's large breasts were pressed firmly against Diabella's much more petite (though still not flat) chest, so much that she was practically using them to prop herself up. It was a shame, then, (even if Diabella would refuse to admit it), that all this sudden intimacy was put to a stop with a viscous headbutt. And another. And another. "Gchhyyck!" Diabella stammered as she struggled to stay present after every blow. By the time Isabel finally relented, Diabella's world was spinning, sore, and fuzzy, but she couldn't give up. Not when her opponent was finally in reach. But she was too dizzy to mount a proper offense, groaning listlessly as her head rolled from side to side. After a few moments like this, Diabella sprung to life, still hopelessly dizzy but determined. While she couldn't see straight enough to actually attack, but her flailing limbs might have been enough to knock Isabel's arms out of place, the only keeping her propped up and separated from Diabella's own face and body…

Camille's suffering was a little less intimate, unfortunately. She wasn't sure if Karmina was mocking her ore genuinely concerned, but in either case she did not want to let her sister down. "I… I have endured worse torture… than this!" she groaned, her hands still running through her hair.

Diabella's flailing may have done her more harm than good, as Isabel's arms were knocked out, causing her to fall onto her opponent's body, nearly kissing her, and causing Isabel to smush the Italian, especially in the chest area. Rather flustered, Isabel tried to get up as she masked her embarrassment behind a slew of insults, still only an inch or two from the other girl's face. "Geh— huh?" she stammered, not expecting such sudden intimacy. "You slut!" she accused, angrily. "You-you're trying to get a taste of me, aren't you?" she asked. It wouldn't have been the first time that a particularly frisky wrestler tried to get intimate in a match, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. "Did some of those headbutts mess up your brain?"

"Then I feel very bad for you." she said, before pulling as hard as she could upon that leg! "Give up! I don't want you to be hurt like this any longer!" she pleaded with Camille. "Or, at the very least, fight back." she suggested, as her opponent threatened to tear her own hair out.