Atlantic Spice! Double Tag Team Debut!

Diabella's awareness of her situation hit her in incredibly brief waves, all of which ended up being vocalized one way or another. "I'm afraid you're the one who will be- oh wai-HUECK!" With an iron grip unexpected from someone her size, Isabel had lifted her pink-haired opponent into the air and brutally began strangling her, before bringing her down in a double-handed chokeslam! Diabella's legs kicked helplessly while her hands gripped and pulled at her attacker's wrists, but the strangulation had divided her focus too thouroughly, and all she could do was gag and squirm. When she hit the mat, she immediately went into a coughing, gasping fit, the air harshly forced from her body between the hands on her neck and the wind being knocked painfully from her body by the impact.

Meanwhile, Camille squealed beneath pair of cleats. She was pinned, painfully so, and though blood dropped from her body under Karmina's weight, her spirit was unbroken. "T-try to break me!" she squealed, "but even if you succeed, Diabella will end you! W-we are mafiosa! We d-do not leave s-survivors!"

"Fucking piece of shit Italian whore." Isabel growled, before she brought her fist up. Her other hand still rested on Diabella's throat. The sight of the furious Argie's fist must have been a terrifying one for the little maid, and a scarier one was that fist flying towards her face. Over and over.

It seemed like Isabel was trying to cave Diabella's skull in using her fist alone! "You won't have a fucking open casket!" she yelled, feeling nearly happy inside. Causing pain like this— it was fun. Especially on somebody like Diabella.

"That is not a good idea." Karmina said, a twinge of sympathy in her voice. She took the cleat off of Camille's belly, and then pulled her up by her blue hair. She set her sights on Camille's poor midriff, and then slammed her knee into it. "Submit! BREAK!"

Diabella's world seemed to explode in white-hot pain when Isabel's fist came crashing into her face. Blow after blow left bruises and even blood as the weakened maid was near powerless to resist. Any advantage she once had was certainly lost by now, but she resolved not to give in until she could no longer stay conscious. Until then, there was still a chance, no matter how slim it could be. But for now, she simply squealed and screamed as each heavy blow damaged her beautiful face ever more.

Camille's situation was largely the same, though the pain in her abdomen was arguably even more crippling. Hoisted up by her hair, a series of blows sunk deep into her tender tummy, causing her to gurgle and moan in agony as spit dribbled to the floor. Still, she too would not give in, not while Diabella still held on. Her confidence in her older twin could be irrational at times, but it had managed to keep her going through worse situations than this before.

Isabel wanted to wipe whatever redeeming qualities that Diabella had from the face of... her face. Not that there were many. The little bitch probably got by on winks and 'cute' shit. She probably eagerly accepted any offers of sex from fucking pig men. But, after a while of hammering her face, Isabel let go, waiting for the little maid to drop to her hands and knees. She spit on her before she curb stomped her.

The pain Karmina was inflicting was much less enjoyable for both parties. "Come on, please! It hurt me to hurt you like this!" the slender Argentine begged. Perhaps another submission hold would work better? Perhaps one of the ones she had done during one of her matches... Karmina dropped Camille, and rolled her onto her belly. She grabbed both of her hands, and then wrapped their legs together... she fell back, and stretched her into a ceiling hold!

Both twins had the bizarre luck that, no matter what kind of trouble they got into, they never looked a whole lot worse for it. At least not less attractive. And, even after having her face hammered in by the furious fist of her opponent. She was, though, in a lot of pain, and while her face remained as pretty as ever, it was marred by a pair of tears and just a bit of bleeding from the corner of her mouth. She dropped limply to her knees, and started to fall forward when a wad of spit, and a brutal curb stomp, sent her down even harder. Despite her tough attitude, for now the little Italian simply lie on the mat clutching her face with both hands.

Camille's determination had not broken as much, but she was not in much better shape than her sister. For all Karmina seemed to be hurt by her resilience, Camille was sure she hurt more, and when she was rolled to her front she dreaded what was coming. Both sisters held quite a bit of pride in Diabella's ability to perform a ceiling hold (totally oblivious to how basic that was here), Camille was all too familiar with the setup, and the pain that comes next. In moments, her voice filled the arena with a shrill squeal, and tears of her own began to form.