Sista A Vs Karen Starring II: Retracing Steps

The arena had filled with a typical reaction to a big manoeuvre as Karen's head essentially pinged off the canvas. Said roar would turn to a shocked cry of sorts, as Karen's body was turned, revealing a near completely red faced, equipped with mild swelling.

The roll aided Karen partially, awakening the blonde to the point where she was flapping her arms-which of course immediately went to soothe her near busted face. It took her a moment to remember where she was, and just who it was that was turning the blonde into a rag doll. Embarrassingly, a woman who was at her mercy but a few months ago.

Her chest mildly mushrooming in her corset as Sista A decided to use the blonde as a footrest, Karen again was slow to the draw in reacting to a match ending pin. Again reaching a high "2...!" count, part of Karen wanted to stay down. Well, 'part' being the entirety of Karen's increasingly broken body.

But alas, such mercy was not to be given to Karen by herself, as again her ego halted a quick, much more merciful finish. Raising her shoulder when she clearly shouldn't of, the blonde saved herself yet again. Again, not that it mattered. Sista A had, to put it lightly, made Karen her bitch.

Sista A wasn’t too surprised when Karen kicked out of the cocky pin, but it did piss her off. She hoped that Karen would finally learn the lesson. Figure out what her place was. But it seemed the busty blonde required just a little more proper instruction. A demonstration of the pecking order.

Fine. She knew how to drive the point home. [color=

She turned around and placed her feet on either side of Karen’s head, taking a moment to sneer down at her enemy with full contempt. From there, it was a matter of sitting down on Karen’s face. Or, to be more accurate, she kicked her legs out and dropped her ass down on it, full force and weight.

A facesit. Not her usual style, but something she could see herself acquiring a taste for in the right situations.

There was next to nothing to be gained from breaking said pin. A chance of winning? Karen could barely see out of her swollen eyes, let alone muster the strength for a move to put the match in her control, let alone end it. Pride? Karen had been squashed all match to the point of having none. Despite it, the amazon did so anyway, with every inch of her screaming not to do so.

The blonde wouldn't react to her chest being allowed to fully expand; arm simply falling back to the canvas, whilst the other held her hip. She'd try to utilise what blurry vision she could, analysing what surroundings there were.

Overhead arena lights, still bright as hell to someone even with dazed vision.
A black and white clad character, approaching Karen to see if she actually could continue.
A crowd in somewhat of a even split; those who despised the blonde cheering, those who despise Sista A more booing.
Karen's vision would soon be vastly reduced however, as to put it bluntly; she soon saw nothing but ass.

Arms shooting up in spasm as Sista A turned the amazon into a seat, Karen would heave and splutter into her firm rear, hands weakly patting her foes back. Not in a tapout, however much she should of, but almost as a plea. Not that it would be answered. Not in a million years.

Aisha had her face sat on before, courtesy of Liberty, and she remembered how unpleasant of an experience it was. Granted, she’d had her face sprayed by paint beforehand, but even so, she couldn’t see how taking that out of the equation would make it much better. It was hot, uncomfortable, you couldn’t breathe, and the humiliation was crippling.

But being on the giving end was so much more satisfying. Sista A could now say this from firsthand experience.

She settled down on Karen’s face, got a good position, then enjoyed the audience’s condemnation as her poor, poor victim struggled beneath her. She protested, of course, put up a struggle that Sista A could easily ridden down.

Most wrestlers would’ve been content to stop there with their effective humiliation. Sista A, though, wanted to have some more fun. There were two tempting targets right in front of her, and she couldn’t resist having a shot at them.

WIth a vile cackle, she began raining down punches into Karen’s breasts, hammering them one after the other with relentless fervor and unashamed glee.

It was a weird concept, to be good at face-sits. What would actually constitute a bad one? Besides placing the wrong body part on your foes face? Whatever argument there was to be had over such a weird topic, Karen couldn't exactly call Sista A bad at such a move, as she found her breathing, and vision for that, thoroughly filled with ass cheek.

To further her pain, Sista A was not only reminded that Karen's somewhat excessive chest was now a bare target before her, but that they could be in fact used as a set of impromptu punching bags. Grunting and wining into her foes cheeks with every strike, Karen's face was not only turning a brighter shade of red, but her eyes were being forced to water. Whether it was because of pure humiliation, or the increasing lack of breath, was any ones guess!

Sista A punched away at Karen’s funbags, over and over and over again. She punched until her arms started to get tired, no doubt leaving marks on the tenderized flesh that would be staying there for a long time.

It was a ball. The most fun she’d had in the ring in a long, long time. But it wasn’t what she needed. This wasn’t like in Rumble Roses, where she could get a win by humiliating her opponent enough. There were only three ways to win here, and none of them seemed to be immediately on the table.

There was a way to solve that, however.

”Here me back there?” Sista A took a break from the pummeling and leaned back, using more of her weight to keep Karen pinned down. ”Got three choices here, big girl.” She idly ran her hands over one of Karen’s breasts, giving it a gentle caress that would probably just make the pain even worse.

”You can either give up, lay your shoulders down so I can get the pin, or just go to sleep under my ass.” She gave Karen’s right breast a quick little punch, right on the nipple. ”Better pick fast, bitch…”

Karen would of scratched Sister A at this point, her face near pure tomato-red under that firm rear. Hell, she tried; her fingers mildly coming down on her foes legs, but with all the strength of a plastic comb grinding along the skin. She certainly wouldn't draw blood, hell, she'd unlikely even leave a mark. Sister A's strikes may have being becoming less so, but it didn't matter. She was simply building on damage inflicted, with even a nudge against Karen's massive chest likely causing her eyes to water.

To put the nail on the coffin, her foe made it apparent that this was how the match was going to end. She wasn't going to roll off and hook a leg, or even give a more dignifying finish of using a signature move to put away the blonde amazon. Karen was gonna get beat by her ass, simply put.

Muffled screams finding their way once again into her foes cheeks as she now fully sat on Karen's face, the blonde's arms fell to her side, as the air was being quite literally forced from her, inadvertently pinning her shoulders flat for the offered said pin, but also veering on the edge of unconsciousness, via a facesit no less.

Sista A couldn’t resist a pleased purr when Karen screamed into her ass. She could feel it vibrating all throughout her body, this tingle along her bones, tickling all the way up to her head. Rarely had she ever felt this in control, this dominant, this powerful.

Yeah. She’d have to add this move to her arsenal.

She wasn’t able to enjoy it for much longer, however. She was almost sad when she saw the referee drop down and start the count - she wouldn’t have had a problem doing this to Karen all day. Hell, if they ever met again, maybe she could…

”1…!”

Karen's eyes continued to roll, not that anyone could see it. Her arms failed to even slap the figure that had turned her into a near six foot bench, let alone rise and force a break of the pin. She could feel the power to stay even conscious forced from her, gradually as time went on; but to her luck, the pin was coming far quicker than the blonde's step towards passing out. That of course, wouldn't matter, if Sista A held an intention to keep her position, even after a pin was completed or broken.

The latter seemed unlikely, as the most movement that came from Karen was but a shake of the leg, in mostly spasm; the big blonde completely failing to react as the "2!" count was reached. All of her hope seemed to be lost, in a firm rear no less.

”3…!”

And just like that, it was over.

The referee went to call for the bell, but Sista A didn’t move from her perch. Not yet. She was making a decision, needed a little time to mull it over.

Knocking Karen out would be a fitting way for her to go down, yeah, and Sista A would’ve enjoyed the statement it would send to all her enemies. But there was some worth in having her awake, too. Sista A could work with that.

With a light sigh, she stood up and let Karen get some air, rising as if she’d just been sitting down on the world’s most comfortable chair. She leisurely strutted to the side and spun around her heel until she faced her fallen foe.

”Now,” She leaned over Karen’s head, a sick, sweet smile on her face the whole time. ”What have we learned?”