Femie Weydman Vs. Misaki Sagashima

"oho!"

Femie chuckled as their bodies pressed together. Despite all the padding between them, she could still feel their weighty breasts mashing together and getting friendly. Something else on them was getting a little friendly too and Femie blushed a bit at that.

"This actually isn't a hentai move, believe it or not..." Femie said, trying to calm Misaki down a bit. "Here, ma chere..." She said and turned her body, trying to wrap an arm behind Misaki's head and yank upward to stretch her neck along with her legs and add to the submission hold.

"Gggghhhh... Hnnnnnnggggg..." Misaki continued to struggle and squirm, as Femie's adjusted the hold, placing more pressure across her body. Hentai move or not, the intimacy of the hold was certainly giving Misaki a lot to stress over.

Physically, she was pretty flexible and well conditioned enough to withstand a hold like this for a while. Mentally, it was a completely different story. Being caught in this position was incredibly embarrassing to her, and her crumbling emotions were making it harder and harder for her to control her attraction towards her opponent.

Slowly losing control of herself, tears began to accumulate at the edges of Misaki's eyes, as she continued to writhe about in her vain attempts to escape.

Femie was feeling good about the match. Doing so well against Misaki was giving her the confidence she had desired. Even if she still thought she might not do so hot in a hentai match, at least she wasn't completely useless outside of the sensual squared circle!

Still, she had been considering Misaki and when the girl didn't submit right away, she turned and looked at the girl, trying to get a gauge on her state of mind. Something like that was very important to the psychiatrist.

When she saw literal tears coming from Misaki, Femie's eyes widened. She let go of the girl and broke the grapevine, immediately rolling away to a crouch. She had a look of real concern on her face as she looked at the girl.

"Oh, ma chere..." She whispered. "Why do you cry? I understand tears of pain, but I don't think that is the case..." She asked the girl.

Misaki exhaled as she was suddenly released from the hold, popping up into a sitting position. Sniffling a little bit, she wiped at her face with arm, trying hard to conceal the face she was crying, despite the fact it was already pretty obvious.

Inside, she felt completely awful. From almost the very start of the match her mind had been completely unfocused, and her performance was suffering for it. Misaki felt embarrassed and ashamed of how poorly she was fighting, and in front of a huge audience no less. And now, here her supposed opponent was, pitying her. It was almost too much for her, and she could feel herself wanting to cry even more.

"S-shut up...! I'm n-n-not crying!" Misaki sniffled, "We're still in the middle of a m-match!"

Not even thinking straight any more, Misaki suddenly lunged at Femie, recklessly trying to tackle her and wrestle her to the ground.

Denial was not just a river in Egypt, apparently.

Femie was about to open her mouth when Misaki crashed into her and drover her to the mat. "ooff!"

She tried to push Misaki off her as best as she cvould, more focused on the girl's head than her body. "Listen, ma chere." She said quickly. "I'm not just a wrestler, I work on the staff as well as a..." Psychologist? No, that probably wouldn't go too well. Therapist? Maybe a little better but still no.

"I can help you work through these issues." Good enough, she supposed. "Why don't you come to my couch after the match?"

"Ughhh..." Misaki grunted as she was pushed back. While her childish emotional outburst had subsided, she now felt incredibly embarrassed about how she had just acted.

"T-t-there's nothing wrong with me! I'm just having an off day... or something..." she mumbled, her face blushing red once again.

Femie pushed Misaki off her and got to her knees. "You're right!" She said, reaching out for Misaki's leg to try and put her in an ankle lock. "A problem or issue that needs some attention isn't like some kind of disease. You're not a pariah just because you get anxious sometimes, ma chere. It's normal, really!" She said with a cheerful face even as she tried to painfully wrench Misaki's leg.

Misaki was glad Femie at least seemed understanding. Between the nervousness of having her first real fight, her largely pent-up sexual frustration, and her not really living up her own unreasonably high expectations of herself, she was a bit of a mess at the moment.

Misaki was not glad, however, of what Femie was doing to her leg. She screamed in pain as her ankle was being twisted, flopping down onto her back as she writhed. Desperate to escape, she tried wildly kicking at Femie with her free leg, hoping to make her let go.

Femie held on tightly as Misaki kicked at her, letting go at the last second to avoid being jarred with the girl's foot. She backed her way and held her hands up, crouching and waiting for Misaki.

"What are you frustrated with, ma chere?" She asked, deciding to give the girl a free lesson while she waited, carefully sizing her up while she spoke almost nonchalantly.

"Is it the contact? Or something else. Because if it si the contact, perhaps you are in the wrong business, no?" She said with a smile on her face.

"I'm just... Not that used... To it yet... That's all...!" Misaki sputtered out piece by piece, gasping as she held her leg in agony. Normally, this level of beating shouldn't have phased her as much as it was, but evidently her emotional outbursts had worn her out a lot more than she realized.

Admittedly, a job like this was far from her dream career. However, her last job didn't exactly offer a promising future, and she was here now, and would have to make the best of it. It's not as though this was the first uncomfortable job she had to endure, either.

"It's just... Some first day nervousness..." She groaned, slow climbing back to her feet. Wincing in pain, her legs were still a bit shakey, but she tried to at least look tough, putting her arms up in a fighting pose.