AV 18 Adrian Kytes vs. Gwendolyn Dupont Bettencourt

In backstage interviews, the snooty princess royale of the corporate boardroom herself always took no small modicum of satisfaction from regaling interviewers of how she carried her opponents through each of her acclaimed multi-star matches in her illustrious career. The accursed irony of her words not being lost on her in the slightest as she shifted up to her hands and knees at a snails pace thanks to the sagging Philadelphian making this ascension far more cumbersome than it had any right to be.  

Gwendolyn being internally miffed and huffing an irritated breath against the side of Adrian's thigh at the sheer ludicrousness of it all...unaware as to the potential danger she was in until it was no longer potential, but imminent. The sudden snug tightness around her head along with Adrian's arms wrapping her arms around her waist putting Gwen into a wriggling panic mode one second too late as the pair were sent into a flipping loop de loop culminating with a booming thud of a landing. The sheer force planting Gwendolyn like an aristocratic tree who briefly went ramrod straight before gravity decreed that her supple figure topple off to the side, now utterly pacified and otherwise inert save for the ring still quaking from Adrian busting out her old school finisher with the stunned audience knowing the match ending implications this meant…

Adrian held on to the inverted heiress as long as she could, the impact on the canvas shaking her spine before her grip failed allowing the blonde to succumb to gravity's inevitable pull, while Adrian was left to flop backwards herself with a crazed yet self-satisfied wide smile. Her small chest rising and falling as she coughed out a small laugh. All her concerns about Gwen's hired help, the blonde's devious techniques and blatant (in her mind) bribery were fading away as she rolled the princess onto her back and hooked a leg, counting the seconds until victory.

Gwendolyn practically imitated the exclamation point of the flawlessly executed finisher for about as long as Adrian's grip allowed, her perfect pearly whites gnashed and hazel eyes scrunched shut before the timbering heiress plummeted to the side with no fathomable recollection of what just happened. The smug and superior Imperial Rose now having wilted considerably as announcer's off in the distance could be overheard screaming into their headsets the name of Adrian's Bankai finisher along with their utmost certainty about this match's impending finale. An assumption not unfounded given the lifelessness of Gwendolyn's sprawled out figure, her exquisite leg hooked and dangling Adrian's in commoner arms with a jumbled consciousness keeping her that way.

"One!....TWO!!....THR-!!!"

Except for the last millisecond before the referee's hand skimmed the canvas, when the Imperial Rose bloomed once more. Gwendolyn twisting one arm to the side and one shoulder off the ring canvas, but unmoving otherwise. Stunning the world around them into a state of absolute shocked bewilderment, along with having the ref-girl wave two fingers at the timekeeper beside the ring bell!!!

Adrian heard the count of three, she would look back on this match and swear that she had gotten the three count just now. And just now she was swearing at the ref that "THAT WAS THREE YOU BITCH!" sitting up with her fist pounding down on the canvas in pure frustration. That should have been it That was it if this ref wasn't already in Gwen's pocket! she told herself, picking herself up off the mat with hate in her eyes. "Roll. Back. Over. You. Fake. Boobed. Cunt!" She yelled down at the fallen blonde, kicking her in the side with every word to get the heiress back over.

Defying the odds and what the world assumed to be a match-ending piledriver well beyond the pampered Englishwoman's threshold for pain, Gwendolyn's eyelids fluttered as she overheard the vitriolic grumbling directed towards the official who was now terrified to deliver any snippet of bad news to Adrian. Thought the spiteful kicks to her ribcage did far more to awaken her once more, the grimacing heiress groaned and spastically trembled with every solid connection that rather than rolled her over...compelled her to defy Adrian once again. The posh noblewoman sluggishly shuffling upward to one knee with her other lean leg extended far out to the side, arms slackened with a mind far too muddled to do anything more than tilt her head up and shoot Adrian a defiant glare...and knowing smile from her panting lips.

If Adrian's mood could have gotten any worse, Gwen's smug little smirk even when getting kicked in the ribs was a good way to do it. The heiress was defiantly rising to her feet instead of staying in position on the canvas "Okay!" Adrian snapped "You want back up? FINE! You get to go up!" the brunette declared, roughly grabbing a fist full of blonde hair to once again shove the heiress between her thighs and wrapped her arms around the blonde's midsection.

It was tempting to go for another flipping piledriver, but if one wasn't going to put Gwendolyn down it was unlikely that a second would do the job that the first couldn't, but Adrian had another idea for what do to. Eyeing the opposite corner with evil intentions she attempted to hoist Gwen up to her shoulders, staggering back with the effort as she tried to get aching muscles to co-operate with probably the biggest power move the former cosplayer had attempted.

Poet laureates tend to put blue flowers in exceptionally high regard as a symbol to inspire unmatched strength and flawless beauty in the face of adversity. The Imperial Rose seemingly embodying that poetic sentiment with her cavalier smirk being Gwen's wordless answer to prevailing over Adrian's infamous finisher with the refined spirit and enduring dignity of the nobility. A gesture of smug superiority which perhaps said more than words ever could...but earning Adrian's ire all the same.

Her cultured visage scrunching irately from being reacquainted with the soft squeeze of Adrian's firm thighs upon her golden-curled cranium, a wavering instability to her own wobbly legs whilst arched over with naught but foreboding thoughts abounding. A view of the floor below being swiftly exchanged for one more elevated once seated upon Adrian's shoulders...to which Gwendolyn intentionally lurched forward, helping to unbalance the former cosplayer into a stumbling backpedal to the turnbuckle behind the Phillie native. Upon catching herself on the top ropes and swiftly turning around to seat her pert backside on the top turnbuckle, the heiress would be in a prime position to throttle and tighten her immaculate thighs into a stifling head-scissor of her own with teeth-gritting focus.

Adrian was not the steadiest on her feet while carrying someone on her shoulders and Gwendolyn was decidedly not helping, it was almost as though she disliked the former cosplayer and wanted her to fail, who'd have thought? The heiress' movements sent Adrian back into the turnbuckles just trying to stay vertical but it gave the blonde the chance she'd been waiting for. The relief of not having Gwen's weight on her shoulders was almost immediately turned to panic as her head was snared in between the Heiress' ballet trained powerful thighs. Her arms quickly snapping to try and pry herself free, or at least keep enough pressure off while the ref learned how to count a rope break before the former cosplayer turned permanently purple.

A gross overestimation of how much core strength the former cosplayer had...combined with a seething resentment towards the heiress' blatant defiance...were the conditions mixed together that lead to Adrian being sent into a backpedaling stumble. Quite a delightful reversal of fortunes for the prim and proper aristocrat who was now gifted a throne for her to regain her dignified regality upon, and an uncouth commoner to gaze upon her maidenly grace~...

"...*pant*...Birmingham Royal Ballet...Principal dancer, three years running..." Gwen prudishly regaled Adrian in her posh English accent her exalted feats in the snobbish world of ballet and the reasoning as to why Adrian must have felt like a supple vice was bearing down upon her. The heiress outstretching her elegant legs to cross them at her ankles and smush the Phillie's native's cheeks between her smooth, creamy, if somewhat sweaty thighs. The reluctant referee began counting aloud to issue the rope-break, but before she even reached the five count, the noblewoman started to scoot over until she sat and balanced herself upon the top rope while still flexing her taut leg muscles. The tumbling plummet backward ensured a safe landing for Gwendolyn who clamped onto the ropes the entire time...but no such guarantee was afforded to the foul-mouthed cosplayer being tugged along for the ride.

Gwendolyn's bragging would probably had more effect if her thighs weren't covering the former cosplayer's ears, but Adrian was under enough pain already without the taunts adding insult to injury as her face was taking on the complexion of a cheap French red wine in the heiress' headscissor hold. The brunette couldn't offer any resistance as the blonde threw her weight backwards, using the ropes for leverage as Adrian was flipped over the top and out of the ring, the tight hold slamming her face first into the edge ring apron on the way down.

If Adrian's head resembled a grape, then the impact on the edge burst it as the solid edge caught the American fighter just above the brow, a line of blood slowly dripping down into her eyebrows before Gwendolyn finally relented, letting Adrian slump down to the arena floor.