Annette Weber vs The Black Belt Demon - Troubled Waters

The referee moved in close and dropped to her knees beside them, monitoring Makoto and Annette with a studious eye. Out of habit, the Black Belt Demon thought she was looking for a pinfall and raised her shoulders accordingly, but she lowered them as the realization of her situation came back to her - this wasn’t a traditional match, her shoulders could touch the canvas all day. The only thing she had to worry about was orgasms, and while she couldn’t do much of Anesthesia’s techniques in a position like this, Annette was in a far worse position. All she had to do was hold this, sap her strength, and when she was worn out, go to work at her leisure. You couldn't ask for a better setup.

For the first time, Makoto could feel a little confidence seeping in, and that reflected in her voice, as she enjoyed a harsh laugh at Annette’s expense, laughing at all the difficulty her opponent was having. ”Pfft. Because you don’t have the talent, idiot.”

She sneered and gave the hold a harsh jolt. Annette was in pain, but she wasn’t too distressed by it, nowhere near as much as she should’ve been. Annette couldn’t get out, was stuck, and the Black Belt Demon had her tight. The only way she could get out was if...she…

...what was she doing with her tongue?

It was one stroke, one little stroke, but there was no way Annette had done it by accident. The feel was too gentle, too quite, too sensuous for that. It was as if the tongue lit her skin on fire, made her nerves tingle, and, small as it was, the effect was felt all over her body.

For a moment - too long - Makoto’s hold weakened to nothing but a light embrace. Her eyes shot wide in an instant, and she tried to hunker down before Annette could escape, hitting her foe with a glare that could freeze water and a blush that could melt it all over again. ”Hey, stop that!”

That was easier than she thought it would be.

Makoto was more than a judo master, she was an international idol. Before she even came into wrestling, Annette knew who she was just from the plethora of magazine covers and sports brand promotions that her former modeling agency tended to keep an eye on. Honestly, she had a talent for it. Her poses were perfect and she knew just the right way to present herself; how she wanted the world to see the pride of Japanese martial arts.

But with the right pair of eyes, and enough time spent staring at beautiful women, you could pick up on more than just that. Makoto was young and clearly sought to use that. She glowed with this youthful innocence that highlighted with every step she took under stagelight. It was in her smile, her eyes, that tender gaze…

She sought to taste some of that as Ann moved her tongue over Makoto’s skin, along her creamy shoulder and up her neck. She withdrew and licked her lips, savoring the taste of vanilla and a hint of spice. But the sprinkles on top were the reaction she received. It was more than just a shock. Makoto had whiplash.

Which could only mean…

Ann chuckled to herself. She should have known better than to let herself get thrown off by a black belt and a gold medal. Wrestling isn't just about experience after all. It’s about technique, endurance, and focus. Makoto had the last two down pat. But the third one? Well…

Ann was smiling to herself, needless to say. The same second she felt the pressure lessen was the same second Makoto would find her arms free of her bounty. Ann pushed her hands down on the judoka’s shoulder to break free from her headlock. If she could break the hold, it would open the opportunity for the Norwegian to tuck her legs close between Makoto’s while she was pinned to the mat. Slipping her powerful legs underneath Makoto’s slimmer, slender pair before hooking them together at the ankles, she’d capitalize on the position with a tested and true grapevine.

“Going through a dry spell?” She smiled down at the Demon.

One lick. That was all it took for things to immediately go off the rails.

It was strange, but in that instant, it occurred to her just how long it had been since she’d had real sexual contact with...anyone. Before the AFW, she’d been saving herself for Aigle, hoping her girlfriend might come back once things were straightened out in Mongolia. It was a vain hope, really, and she was probably being romantic. It sounded easy, though. She’d gone with sex before Aigle, she could go without.

And maybe it would’ve worked, if she hadn’t had to come to the AFW. But this league was the mecca of sexfighting, it seemed to just radiate sensual energy. It was everywhere she turned, the topic on everyone’s lips, and even if she tried to avoid watching the sexual matches - and, god, did she try - there was no avoiding it. A match that she thought would be otherwise acceptable would wind up devolving into that, out of nowhere. She’d be watching a normal match, go get some popcorn out of the kitchen, and come back to two women taking turns eating each other out on the mat.

So it was always going to be bad, but she never imagined it would be this bad. Annette might as well have had electricity coming out of her tongue for the way it shocked Makoto, leaving her putty for a moment. That moment turned out to be just long enough for momentum to swing away from her - in a heartbeat, Annette was all over her, getting on top, intertwining legs, tangling her up and pinning her down. On instinct, Makoto positioned herself to keep a shoulder off the mat, but she all too quickly remembered that wasn’t the objective of the mat - no, the victory was obtained through orgasm, and Annette was in a worryingly good position to make that happen on her.

”That’s, that’s none of your-” She broke into a stammering fest for a moment, before snapping her lips shut and glaring up at the woman. ”Get off! Get off!”

The Black Belt Demon started to fight out from underneath Annette’s body, bucking about and twisting, but that almost worked against her - the more she struggled, the more she ground against her tormentor, the more their hips clashed, the more she felt their skin touching, the more their breasts rubbed, the more...everything.

Annette gave another pound of pressure, doubling down on the hold in the same moment Makoto started bucking back. There was a curious familiarity to this position. Ann had rolled around with so many women of so many shapes and sizes in so many areas of varying appropriateness. With experience, it became easy to notice the signs. The stammered grunts, the blushing, the defiant eyes, and rapid breaths. Ann noticed that she'd brought up her shoulder, but Makoto clearly hadn't forgotten that this was a hentai match.

It was easy to notice on Makoto, and not simply because of the incredibly light, milky skin on her cheeks begging to be kissed. It was because she was a professional. Professionals couldn't afford the luxury of being exposed, vulnerable, frustrated with themselves. But when they were…

The Norwegian smirked, feeling the first beads of sweat begging to shape on her forehead and gleam in the afternoon sun. She stretched herself wider, lowering the ground and laying her weight over the judo girl. The motion put their shared flexibility to the test, as Ann easily parted her legs inch by inch, giving the audience a rather savory view of Makoto's lower half from the appropriate angle.

"Why are you struggling? I'm not even pushing that hard." She cranked the pressure even tighter just to drive that point home. Her hands slithered away from the Demon’s shoulders down the length of her arms. She forced their palms together and pressed their interlocked hands to the floor, spreading her arms wide as Ann brought their bodies even closer. "Is it something else? Are you getting distracted?"

A slow yet firm grind of their hips cemented Ann's words into Makoto's ear. She led their intermingled legs and lower bodies through an intimate dance. Her hips raised and lowered into the woman beneath her, asserting herself over the Japanese girl's wild frustrations as they kissed below the waist again and again.

"Do you like being distracted?" She whispered cooly against her ear.

Okay, don’t panic. Don’t get scared. Makoto knew how to handle this. Anesthesia had trained her for this sort of thing - if you could call strapping her to a bed, blindfolding her, and teasing her for hours on end ‘training’. But it made sense, right? The whole point of it was to prepare her sexually for a sex-based match, and how do you prepare for that without, well, sex.

She was ready for this. She was ready for Annette.

Annette and her soft, supple breast sliding over her own, mingling with her pair, moulding against them.

Annette with her rich accent, whispering in her ears, teasing her with that light, lilting tone, making shivers run up and down her spine.

Annette with those tight, taunting hips, grinding against her, starting a slow motion, pressing their most intimate places against each other like they were made for it.

Makoto had been here on so many sleepless nights, tossing around in her bed, wishing she had someone to share it with. How many times had she imagined herself in positions like this, rolling around a ring, twisting each other into all kinds of positions. Playing. Touching. Kissing. Loving. It all called back to a certain match she had years ago, one that no one saw or knew about. A private affair with a special person, the last time she’d seen her. Makoto closed her eyes, relaxed for an instant, and it was like she was pulled back in time. The smells, the sensations, it was all so similar…

”Aigle.”

The Black Belt Demon’s eyes shot wide, surprised to hear that name came from her mouth, as if it had acted without her permission. She could feel the build up below, knew what was coming, knew she needed to get off of Annette right now, no matter the cost. Gritting her teeth in preparation, she jerked her head to the side, then shot it back towards her opponent’s face, attempting to headbutt her and force her way free, moving in a wild burst.

The crowd was cheering Annette on now. They were rather decisive for a match that had just gotten started...and nowhere near as messy yet.

It was to be expected. It had dawned on the Norwegian from the moment she received the letter regarding her next matchup exactly what management’s intentions were. Perhaps that was why Makoto was so determined to prove them wrong and dawned a more serious face. It was only another reason why Ann could respect this woman; the relentless drive to be better. And it was why she was going to enjoy these next few moments. Despite what people seemed to think, she wasn’t so tender as to go easy on a competitor stuck outside of their comfort zone.

The Black Belt Demon appeared rather eager to play things the hard way. Ann was more than happy to give that to her.

The model’s svelte thighs linked closer around the judoka. She turned her head to brush her soft lips against her cheek, pondering a kiss on the tender surface while Makoto was temporarily indisposed. She was just about to do it...when her ear close to the Demon’s mouth picked up something first. Ann felt one of her silver brows quirk in confusion and raised her face to meet Makoto’s.

"Aigle?" Now that was a new one. Ann giggled and shook her head. "You forgot my name alre-?"

A concentrated flashbang blasted Ann right between the eyebrows, leaving her to cry out in rare sight of distress. Her silver bangs whipped to the back of her head as the Norwegian fell into a daze. Her legs slipped from their grip and her hands parted from Makoto's as she placed one hand to the floor while the other slapped her forehead in a forlorn bid to numb the concussive throbbing.

Anesthesia had been tempted to come out and accompany Makoto to the ring, and now that things were ramping up with the two young ladies, she was even more tempted to join in. As her manager, she had carte blanche to come out to any of the Black Belt Demon’s matches at her discretion, and it was a privilege she would revel in using, here. Being so close to beauties such as this, seeing that skin moving over each other, and hearing their heated moans. She looked on from a screen in the back, but HD quality was a poor substitute to being present for the real thing.

But, alas, she had made a promise to stay back, and while she was not a woman known for keeping her word, she would do so in this case. The last thing Makoto needed was a distraction. The poor thing came with enough of those by default, and with an opponent like Annette, one so skilled in the sensual arts, they would be a great handicap. The cameraman man did a poor job of capturing all the best angles, but even with his bungling, she was still able to see how intimate they were getting in that grapevine. Annette had all the hallmarks of a master seductress.

She couldn’t have asked for a better opponent for Makoto.

The Black Belt Demon was of a different mindset, just wanting to create some separation. The headbutt wasn’t a pleasant move on her end, either, but she was ready for it, knew it was coming. That could go a long way when it came to soaking up the pain. All she needed was a moment.

The Black Belt Demon threw hard to the side, rolling them both over, switching positions. Her first thought was to try Annette’s move against her, but her second thought told her how silly that would be - it would be the easiest thing for her opponent to start smooching her, rubbing her, caressing her again. No, she needed to get Annette into a position where she couldn’t work her magic, or one where she’d be in too much pain to try.

As they rolled, she seized her opponent’s wrist and flopped off of her, coming over to her side. With it tight in her grip, she swung a leg under the arm, brought it up on the other side, and fell back with the limb tight in her clutches, attempting to pull her opponent into a tight armbar. It wouldn’t win her the match on its lonesome, submissions being off the table, but it would make everything Annette did that much harder - and that included sex.

Ann had never been head-butted before in her life.

Shocking, she understands. There were just never the right circumstances for it. She typically avoided physical altercations with others. People that radiated a negative aura of that magnitude never lasted long around her. She was dedicated to a healthy, happy lifestyle, and that meant choosing the right people to be around.

Now that Makoto had firmly inducted her into the school of hard knocks, Annette had a less than pleasant review of her first lesson. This sucked. Utterly. Her head was awash, she couldn't even muster the concentration to open her eyes. She just wanted the thumping to stop but it only seemed to come back at the last second.

How did professional wrestlers do this every day?

Ann wasn’t allowed much time to mull that question over. With the speed that only a true master was capable of, Makoto flipped Ann onto her back and had her caught in an armbar all within a single second. She let a yelp slip free from her lips before she chomped down and regained some composure. The Norwegian pulled back on her arm and tried to pull it back, fighting Makoto’s grip the entire way. The armbar was locked in far too tight for her to be let free, but Ann was determined to keep the judoka from making the pressure any worse. It would buy her time, at the very least. Time to breathe, figure out her next move from here.

Her hand came up to Makoto’s shin on reflex, in case she needed to submit. That wouldn’t matter for this kind of match, of course, not that it would happen either way.

The Black Belt Demon grunted, an annoyed sort of noise, as Annette fought her hard in the hold. It hadn't been too long ago that she had used this move last, coming up in a spar she had with Sista A, and her compatriot had been harder to snare - a bigger, buffer woman than the Norweigian, overall. Nonetheless, she was every bit as stubborn, holding on and surviving, showing some surprising endurance. Despite her soft exterior and all her silliness, the woman was hardy.

Makoto wasn’t winning the match this way, no. But it was satisfying.

Perhaps even better, it was giving her time to think, not have to worry about this witch clouding her mind with seductive touches. That grapevine had been closer than she would ever care to admit out loud, with Annette pulling her to the edge of an abyss she wouldn’t have been able to escape from. This woman was dangerous, and she couldn’t give her that much rope again.

Her head clear - or clearer - she recalled why she was here, what she was being tested on. If there was one thing that Anesthesia had emphasized, it was to never let an opportunity go to waste, that she had to maximize every hold. What would work on her if the roles were reversed? What would she want?

Makoto eased up on the hold. Not enough to let Annette go free, but enough to keep her under control. At the same time, she brushed her foot against Annette’s shoulder, using her body to slide off her shoe and kick it to the side. Her sole now, she brought it up and slipped it underneath her foe’s gi, right above her chest. A little awkward, but it wasn’t like she needed precision for what she was going for.

Stroke. Stroke. Stroke. Makoto had never done this before, so her technique was lacking, but she tried to make up for with energy. Her feet slid across Annette’s breasts, back and forth, even gripping at it with her toes to tweak the nipples. Anxious to see what sort of response she got, if it was worth the effort.

The one thing that Ann could not allow to happen right now was to let Makoto take this arm away from her. A normal armbar would ruin anyone’s match with the right torque and technique. Now an armbar put in by an internationally-ranked gold medalist that decided to take up such a colorful moniker as ‘demon’?

She wasn’t particularly keen to find out what Makoto could do with that advantage. Ann fought the hold however she could, turning her body into her legs and denying what leverage the Japanese woman was gunning for. Once she was in a more comfortable position, she could act on a couple of escape maneuvers.

Suddenly, Makoto had a rather ingenious idea. It struck the Norweigan like a thunderbolt threw her system. Her eyes looked down to confirm what her breast had already made her well aware of. The judoka’s foot clenched tight against her ample mound. Her back arched against the sensation, twisting and turning in whichever direction the demon saw content to toy with her body. Her toes even managed to brush and pinch an erect nipple, electrifying her body even further. If Ann had the chance to know any better, she would have said that the olympian had pulled this before perhaps under more private circumstances. She was good at it, very good.

Ann moaned expectedly and without any particular effort to hide it. This was a hentai submission match. Makoto was certianley exhibiting both elements of those requirements at the moment, but there was no way Ann was going to come anywhere close to submitting just from this. She was safe, albeit significantly more distracted than before. She found it hard to complain, however. Makoto had lovely feet which she ever so rightfully reached up to admire with a gentle stroke of her hand across the soft skin of her arch.

“It looks like we are finally thinking on our feet.” Any extra pain she got from that she probably deserved.