Emilia Hawthorne vs Blaise Cameron

The smug smirk that has been placed on Emi's face so often throughout the match has returned once again now that momentum has shifted in her favour. The feel of Blaise's flesh being ravaged by her onslaught of blows is magnificent, and the way his body collapses as she drives him head first into the canvas...he's completely out matched against her. But she knew that from the beginning, even if he didn't~

Emi lies down on the ground with a pleased smile at the quiet groan from Blaise's lips. She grabs Blaise's head once again, by his temples, and slowly lifts him up, allowing his hands to still hold on around her waist. But the Silver Scorpion twists as she also maneuvers her hands around the male wrestler's head.

"You really thought you could take on a Scorpion?" She said in disbelief. "It seems like you've learned otherwise after some pain~" The girl would bend her legs and spring across the ring, holding onto Blaise's head tight as she brought him with her, before she took a leap to the mat in a sitting down position, slamming her male foe down to the mat again with a two handed bulldog.

That last hit to the mat was... hard. And by now, the punishment's gotten to be more than his body can take. He's still fighting it - clinging to the hopes that he can turn it around. As she starts to pull him up, she'll see that spark in his eye. But he can't will his limbs to do anything or move fast enough.

His arms remain around her waist as she turns, taunting him. "Nng..," is all he can manage to vocalize. He's standing - he can work with that. They're moving - that's good, too. Wait, they're in the air! Before his mind processes what's happening, his hard pectorals slam into the mat, knocking the wind out of him.

The wind and any remnants of resistance he may have had. He's beaten and he knows it. The only question left would be whether or not Emi pins him now or continues beating on him. His contribution to the match ends with lying facedown and panting raggedly. His fingers curl against the canvas, his skin glistening in sweat. His eyes are still open, if half-lidded and glazed over. He gave the match his best. He got a couple good pin attempts in there. But this is it. He's her punching bag until she decides to end it.

The way his body became limp with that last slam to the mat was wonderful to Emi. She merely gazes down at him as he pants into the canvas like a wounded dog, and a small smile arises to her lips, clearly delighted with her handiwork. This was what she lived for. This was what gave her joy like no other.

She stands up, taking her sweet time to purposefully draw the event out. Sure, she could end it now, but the Silver Scorpion is fully aware that she needs to end her debut with something memorable. A move that would leave a long, lasting impression on both Blaise and the audience. She slowly bends down and carefully picks Blaise up by his head, watching the sweat trail down his skin. Wearing that cute, devilish smile still, she brings the male wrestler up to his full height.

And then, she leans her face towards his right ear, and presses her gloved hand against her lips as she blows a soft, deathly kiss to her opponent. Grabbing him by the shoulders, Emi roughly twists him around and then ducks down, diving her head in between his thighs. Her arms reach up to his and secure themselves around Blaise's tightly in a lock that she was positive he wouldn't be breaking. Again displaying her tremendous strength, the girl lifts her head up to rise up to her full height, while hoisting and holding Blaise upside down helplessly, back to back. With his head swaying precariously as the floor of the ring awaited him.

"Neither you or the audience have seen my best move...~" The girl says sweetly, but with a hint of danger to her tone. "Anything you want to declare before I finish you, little boy?"

Blaise feels her fingers take him by the head again, and the teen is dragged up to his feet. His arms hang at his sides, his legs wobbling - he's barely hanging on. He'd have loved to come out on top tonight. He fought for it, too; held on long, and now he's completely wiped out. He can't even muster the strength to raise his arms. The steady diet of slams and hits has culminated into a nearly numb feeling that's left him hardly able to even stand.

A chant starts to rise in the crowd - one that would make any wrestler's heart sink: "Finish him! Finish him! Finish him!"

But his lips draw into a weak smile as he focuses on her eyes. He doesn't have a chance to speak before he's spun around, grappled, and inverted. His body is put on display again, chest spread and toned abs taut. His legs even hook over her shoulders, his ankles her near her chest. His whole frame is rigid, tense, preparing for the impact. His eyes squeeze shut, his breathing rapid, nervous. He doesn't know if he'll even be conscious after this...

"You've... got me...," he offers up to her. It's difficult articulating from this position. "G-give.. the people.. what they want... Emi..."

The gradual chant that began to pour out of the crowd made Emi smirk. They knew she was victorious in her conquest and it seems she had won several hearts over...not least her opponent~ Her legs and arms were tense with anticipation, and as Blaise weakly murmurs out his own admission of defeat, the Silver Scorpion giggles.

"If you insist~" The girl says in a sweet, childish tone, mocking him as he gives in. It's all part of the torture, drawing it out and making it purposefully last upon his mind. It'll probably even be in his nightmares...or dreams~ Emi shifts her feet ever so slightly as she prepares to perform her finisher; the Scolopendra Breaker, which she saved especially for rattling brains.

"Bye bye, handsome~"

With that final send off, the girl drops down into a sitting position, smashing Blaise down hard and head first onto the mat. The male wrestler would feel a strong vibration of pain through his head trickle throughout his body from the impact, sending every nerve and inch of his body into shock and agony. Of course, he'd only feel it for as long as he was conscious. Which Emi doubted would be long, as she released her locked arms around his own to let him fall.

Blaise is trapped, suspended and inverted. His body is on full display, legs and arms spreads, chest and abs taut, and skin glistening as beads of sweat roll down his athletically slender frame. His eyes remain shut, braced and counting down the seconds.

It sucks, being the one chanted against. On the same token, they're chanting for it because she did well - because she's in the spotlight, and because there's some kind of appeal to seeing him in this position. He's pretty sure a portion of them get some kind of sensual thrill out of this kind of display, too.

He's totally cool with that. It's complimentary to him, in a way.

But would he have nightmares about her? Heck no. It was a great match. She's beautiful, surprisingly athletic, spirited, and skilled. She talks a lot of smack, but it just works for her, and makes it so much more fun those times he gets to turn the tables on her. In fact, she looks pretty good when she's on the receiving end, herself. That by itself might be enough incentive to tangle with her again.

So does he hold anything against her? Is he afraid of her? Mad at her? Not even a little. In fact, if he met her on the street, he'd most likely-

WHAM

The thought is killed the moment his head impacts the mat. An electrifying surge of pain rushes through his nervous system, and his muscles lock momentarily. The very next second, everything goes slack. The teen rolls off her back to land squarely against his chest on the mat, splayed out. His muscles spasm periodically as his system works out the damage. His mind is blank; consciousness has mercifully eluded him, if for a brief time. Given his durability, he's likely to come to soon enough.

But for now? His body is hers.

Emi felt the impact of her finisher rock through Blaise's body as she slammed him down. The sound echoed gloriously throughout the arena, rising even above the cheers of the roaring audience. She can feel no resistance as the male wrestler collapses, his face pressed down against the canvas in a pitiful manner. He was a work of art, exquisite in defeat by her hand. She had to give him credit for lasting as long as he did, of course.

With a devious smirk, the female wrestler stood up and took her time to walk around to the side of her beaten foe. Well, officially he wasn't beaten, but that was something she was about to change. Nudging her boot under Blaise's ribs, she rolled him onto his front and made to sit down on his chest. Her thighs would rest on either side of his head as the girl grabbed one of his legs and hooked it behind her in dominance for a pin attempt...one she knew wouldn't fail this time.

"D'aww, looks like you came up short~" The girl giggled, as the referee fell beside her and prepared to begin count.

Blaise can't tell that he's being rolled over. He simply turns, his limbs falling splayed once he's on his back. His eyes rest shut, his abdomen rising and falling deeply with each breath. She perches square on his chest, his heart pounding rapidly against her upper thigh, but easily supporting her weight. His leg is taken and pulled into position, and the referee has begins the count.

Her hand strikes the mat to the cheer of the audience.

"One!"

Blaise finally vocalizes - but it's only a groggy groan, his head turning only enough to brush his cheek against her inner-thigh.

Emi gives a devilish smile down at Blaise at the position she has him in; completely at her mercy. She takes the moment to slowly trail a finger along what little space of his chest she isn't sitting on and grins as he groans weakly. His flesh, the cheek against her inner thigh, feels soft, but weak and battered.

"Seems like this is just above over, isn't it?" She mused down at him in a taunting way, as the free hand not hooking his leg moved to nestle itself in his hair, playing with a couple of the brown strands idly for her amusement. The referee meanwhile raised her hand a second time, slapping the mat hard as Emi giggled.

"Two!"

Blaise's head turns, cheek resting against the other thigh. Her words draw his mind to the forefront again, his head hurting, his body unwilling to move in any remotely significant way. He feels her smooth, soft inner-thigh against his face, her weight pressed in over his chest. It's harder to breathe, but he can manage.

Eyes open, allowing the blinding light of the stadium overheads to filter in through his lashes. The girl is only a silhouette, but he knows who's on him. He knows what's happening. He's heard the two count.

"G-good job, Emi...," he murmurs up to her. He told her before; she got him. He doesn't resent her for it. If she were expecting anything other than a weakened, fatigued version of his boyish smile, she'd now be disappointed.

The referee strikes the mat a final time. "Three!" She perks and waves an arm to signal the bell!

*DING* *DING* *DING*