Crista Zhang vs. Anesthesia - Learning the Ropes

Match Type: Bondage Match
Victory Conditions:The first woman to incapacitate her opponent - either through ropes, handcuffs, or any other available method - wins the match.
Victory Stipulations: The winner will be allowed to play with the loser for as long as they wish afterwards.


While gimmick matches were nothing new in the AFW, the Friction crowd couldn’t recall ever seeing one quite like this before. The wrestling ring was adorned with nylon ropes on all sides. Some hung on the turnbuckle, some of them on the apron, some of them strewn about the ring, some waiting to be tripped over on the sides. There were handcuffs, too, four pairs of them at every corner, just waiting to be used. And, since this was a bondage match, there was little question what they’d all be used for.

In the middle of the ring , folding her arms as her theme began to fade away, was Anesthesia - not ‘Dr. Cutter’, as her opponent had come to know her in their little meeting beforehand. She’d decided to keep this little match of their fun, and that meant that Crista wouldn’t be dealing with her ruthless alter ego, and instead taking on her more appealing form. The seducer, the deceiver, the trickster, the planner, the Dark Nightingale.

It suited the more intimate approach she intended to go through with this match, as well as what she had planned afterwards. Whether Crista realized it or not, one of two things would be happening tonight: either Anesthesia would be taking a new pawn under her wing, or she’d be eliminating one from the board. This would be the young woman’s last chance to join the right side. Her side.

And, just to ensure that happened, Anesthesia had taken the liberty of bringing some insurance. As she strutted about the ring with a sly smile on her face, her gaze fell on a certain woman in the front row, inconspicuously watching the match, wearing an unseasonable grey hoodie and covering her face in shadows…

Crista never felt nerves before an athletic performance. It was not her way. And that was why she knew the knotted feeling in her stomach came from seeing the ropes and handcuffs around the ring.

Still, she was all confident smiles when her [music] poured into the stadium and signaled her to step out and pose, showing of her physique. All the while she approached the ring with long strides, the circumstances that had brought here here and the idea of what was to come played at the back of her mind. It had been difficult to shake her meeting with the doctor from her mind at any time she had not been actively distracting herself with preparation, and it had been even more difficult to avoid thinking about what would be happening in this match. She would be in front of one of the largest crowds of her athletic career, and they would be watching her attempting to leave the doctor immobilized and by way of nylon ropes and handcuffs, not to mention that she had caught wind that the victory stipulations involved "playing with the loser."

It was certainly different from volleyball. "Play" was not among the match rewards, even if Crista wouldn't have minded it sometimes. Typically, she had drinks with opponents, and nothing more. AFW was such a change.

But it was not a bad change, Crista decided. Her nerves were not from anxiety, but from excitement. Competition, high stakes.

And Dr. Cutter certainly knew how to dress for a match. Crista swung her long legs into the ring, but she could not take her eyes off of the doctor. Anesthesia, they called her here in the ring. Crista had started to doubt, in her short time to prepare for the match, that she was actually a doctor given the brief research she had done on the woman. That made her even more wary of the earlier propositions...but she could not think on them now.

And she certainly did not need to spend her time staring at the woman, nice as she may have looked in her ring attire. Crista had to beat her to prove herself to the veteran, and perhaps most importantly, to avoid being the one "played with."

As Crista’s music played and the newcomer made her way to the ring, Anesthesia took note of the crowd’s response. It was warm, surprisingly so for a fresh face, though she could hazard a few guesses as to why. It certainly didn’t hurt that she was debuting against a well-known ‘villain’, and that many in the audience wanted to see the Dark Nightingale get her comeuppance for one reason or another. The crowd could hardly have picked a better candidate for it, either - so bright and pretty and with such a lovely body, too. There was much to love here.

Good. It would make it all the sweeter when she dashed their hopes in grand fashion.

Her foe made her way into the ring, stepping in with those long legs of hers, and Anesthesia didn’t say a thing. She didn’t need to, really, as her expressions spoke volumes by themselves. Her leering eyes traveled all over Crista’s body, taking in every inch. True, she’d seen it all before, but there was something about the mood and the outfit and the lighting that did such a body more favors than a bland examination room. Anesthesia couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to explore those muscles, to feel them in her grip, to have Crista quivering beneath her…

She bit her lip, a slice of pain to help her cut through the fog. There was work to be done. Business before pleasures, veggies before dessert.

The referee called for the bell, but Anesthesia didn’t move to the attack right away. Instead, she began to strut around the ring, circling Crista with casual steps. All the while, she kept her gaze locked with her foe, waiting to see how she would bring the fight.

It was a good thing that neither of them seemed to want to trigger conversation. While Crista made one last wave to the crowd to acknowledge them, she knew she didn't know exactly what she would say. She had thought about their meeting, and reached no conclusions. Ultimately, she thought it better that she prepare, and not think so much about what came after the match.

When the bell rang, she worked to keep a steely focus and not think much on seeing the "doctor" in this new light.

That focus kept her still, aside from bending her legs, when the match got underway. Her eyes watched the other woman, following her while it looked that she was more wanting to sashay and scale the edges of the ring rather than get into a scuffle. She certainly had confidence.

Crista had to be smart, but she didn't want to give Anesthesia the time to get creative. With that in mind, Crista's shoes struck the canvas to take a couple of long strides towards Anesthesia, and she brought her shoulders down and her arms wide to wrap herself around the doctor at the stomach and push her roughly into the ropes.

Anesthesia knew Crista was smart, but the question was how smart, particularly when it came to the ring. She’d tried to do some research on the leggy woman, but had come short, a rare case where her contacts had failed. She would be learning about this one on the fly, though she felt it was a safe assumption that her fighting style involved kicking, at a minimum. It would be a shame if it didn’t, with thighs like those.

Anesthesia, always prefering to spring the trap rather than be caught in it, kept her distance for the moment, banking on Crista being the one to close the distance. Her patience was rewarded, too, as the newcomer came charging headlong towards her, no doubt looking to take her to the mat and assert dominance.

A powerful play, yes. But Anesthesia was prepared.

She waited until the last moment, then swung her hips away from Crista as she came, turning to her side. In the same motion, she reached down and tried to wrap her arm around her opponent’s skull, looking to catch her with a tight headlock and anchor her to the mat.

Crista would expect clever tactics from the doctor after what had happened between them, and made sure to look for them. It was Anesthesia's quickness that she underestimated. Her target slipped to the side when Crista got in range to grab her, only one of her arms moving around Anesthesia at the hips. She got something wrapped around her, instead.

"Nnngh..." Her curves may have been softer, but Crista was proven right that Anesthesia was strong when the woman's arm constricted her head and firmly held it in place. The pressure applied made her want to get out of it, and fast. 

"Gnnn..." Crista's first attempt was to pry at Anesthesia's arm with her hand, but when the tightness didn't subside, she knew she was being foolish. She had learned better, and another idea was necessary. Producing one in her addled head, she braced against the hold first with a clenched jaw and tried to get her footing.

Anesthesia was many things - a temptress, a planner, a doctor in every way that mattered to her - but she was a trained wrestler, despite what some of the more ignorant fans thought of her. She had skill, and she knew how to use it for the maximum effect.

Such was the case here. The headlock was simple, and far from enough to win the match, but it was effective at what it did: grounding her opponent, starting the process of wearing her down. Sure, Crista was steadily rising even with it clamped down hard. She was going to escape. Soon.

Anesthesia intended to stop that before she had a chance, however. She let Crista get up, forcing the two of them to stand, and that was when she spurred into action. With a twist of the hips and a spin, she clenched the headlock tight and attempted to take Crista off her feet, looking to take them both back to the canvas with a headlock takedown. "Not so fast, love."

It took a force of strength for Crista to get a strong leg planted against the mat, especially with Anesthesia's arm grinding against her head and rooting her in place. But with strain and the sounds of exertion from her throat, she got herself twisted around far enough that a hand, foot, and knee were all on the mat, giving her a chance to try and either rise or yank herself free. The first one sounded best, she thought, blinking through the heat in her face. On her feet, she would have an advantage over the doctor.

The veteran showed that she knew this, however, and as Crista started to force herself up with straining legs, Anesthesia followed her. "Gnnn... nuuuh..." The motion of Anesthesia rising gave Crista a second of relief, but she was sick of being between Anesthesia's chest, which covered half of her face, and that powerful arm. Once they were both standing, Crista tried to quickly get her arms around Anesthesia's midsection, but she was a second too slow to get the power under her legs to lift Anesthesia and throw her off.

The arm bore down on her head again, shoving her against Anesthesia's chest, and she went down to the mat in that position again with a grunt when they collided with the mat.

Oh, this one was feisty. Anesthesia loved them feisty.

She had to clamp down quite hard on the headlock as the two of them rose, knowing Crista had the power to make it far more difficult in a moment. While she was fairly certain she was the more experienced wrestler between, there was still something to be said for all the youthful power her foe boasted. Her legs were finely hewn and on brilliant display, giving the Dark Nightingale a subtle warning on what would be coming her way. Eventually.

For the moment, though, she was in control, and sought to stay that way as long as she could manage. She was in a good position, and she made the most of it, grinding down hard onto Crista’s skull. Not without the requisite taunting, of course.

”Off to a bad start, are we?” She gave Crista a little pat on the head. ”Don’t worry, dear. This will be a learning experience.”

"Mmmmgh..."

Crista squinted her eyes closed, and a hand came up to push at Anesthesia's jawline while the "doctor" continued to work the hold painfully on the sides of her head and even went so far as to taunt her. The taunt was not so frustrating as being stuck in this one position for so long, her head immobile and crushed in the woman's arm, but it did make her more determined to find her way out.

She pushed her legs down against the mat again, calves flexing, but trying to get up again wouldn't do her any good. But...her legs might indeed be the answer. Crista opened her eyes again and took a look at the position of Anesthesia's head. Crista's legs loomed behind the doctor's back.

She had seen this counter before, but she would have to be fast to pull it off. Setting her jaw, Crista went for it.

Her arm shot out, forearm shoving underneath Anesthesia's chin roughly to force her head backwards, and a shapely calf came up to hook underneath the neck and pull Anesthesia backwards and down towards her other thigh to search for a scissorhold. If nothing else, she wanted out of this headlock.