Debut Match: Isa Armstrong vs Devine

Match Type: Oil Submission Match
Victory Conditions: First woman to score two submissions wins.

“The following contest is a two out of three falls oil match where falls may only be won by submission.”

Standing not in the middle of the ring but by the side (because she didn’t want to get oil on her shoes), the announcer’s voice cut through the low murmur of the Friction audience, demanding their attention.

“Introducing first from Belfast, Northern Ireland, standing at five foot and eight inches, weighing in at a shapely 155 pounds, she is making her debut in Friction – Isabel ARMSTRONG!”

As the last echo reverberated around the arena, the lights dimmed, the first words of “I Burn” oozed from the speakers and the Friction audience got their first look at Isa Armstrong (and seemed to like what they saw).

Stepping out through the curtain, the bronze-skinned newcomer wore simple but flattering gear – a black one-piece with gold trim cut to accentuate her curvaceous figure, thigh-high stockings that ended in MMA style foot supports and simple black gloves. For a moment, she posed on the stage, hands entwined above her head.

Isa took a deep breath, held her position.

And then she began to dance down to the ring. Slowly, gracefully, tossing her hair as she twisted and spun, but somehow managing to slap her fair share of hands as she did. Reaching the first corner, Isa caught it and somehow used it to spin herself up to the ropes and then over them into the ring, landing catlike on her feet despite the oil.

A moue of displeasure crossed Isa’s full lips at the sensation but she managed to put it aside enough to wave to the audience with as big a smile as she could muster.

Not that it was nerves holding her back. No, Isa was more than a little angry.

Not with her first match being at a house show, she’d expected that along with it being one of the first matches on the card. She was a rookie and, coming from a wrestling family, she knew she’d have a mountain of dues to pay before she got anywhere near a main event.

Showing up that day for her first match proper, nervous and not sure what to expect, Isa’s belly had been full of butterflies. But excitement too. It might not be glamourous but it was the first step.

Only to find out that she’d been hired purely for her looks, that her debut match was an oil match of all things and for the agent to all but tell her that she was expected to throw the match so that the other woman could look good.

Isa thought she had done well not to slap the man in the face but the things she’d said had (while true) perhaps not been the wisest. So now it was a best of three submissions oil match as a punishment.

Great. Just… great.

Still, this was her chance to prove him wrong. Keeping that firmly in mind, she backed into a corner, shaking her thighs out as she stretched, waiting to see just who she was supposed to be jobbing for.

Stone did not like this. Not one bit.

She didn’t like being in Tokyo, for one thing. Kyoto was Valkyrie territory, Tension was their turf. It was a good spot for the Valkyries, with no one really bothering them too much or picking fights - the only challenges they tended to get into were the ones they specifically set up, which was fine with her. But in Friction, there seemed to be a bit of a turf war brewing, and the last thing she wanted was to get mixed up in something like that. She doubted their new leader would be any crazier about it. The Valkyries weren’t looking to expand into Friction, and she didn’t need anyone getting that incorrect vibe.

She didn’t like doing too much female on female matches, either. Which she liked to watch Friction matches enough, they tended to veer too often into the kink territory. Not that Tension was the prime example of pure puroresu in Japan, but there seemed to at least be steps to work on that and change it for the better. She would’ve liked the name of the Valkyries to be associated with more real wrestling.

But, more than anything, she didn’t like the fact that her fellow Valkyrie, Devine was coming to Friction for a match against a newcomer, nor did she like the devilish smile that she’d been wearing around since she learned about the match yesterday.

”You’re not going to stop glaring at me, are you?”

The two of them waited in the back while Devine’s opponent made her entrance, with Devine on a bench, putting the finishing touches on her ‘outfit’. It was a lacey number that she’d dug up from her stripping days, a black, strapless bra with plenty of fringe on the side, clinging tight to her skin, matching so well with her dark skin that it was almost hard to tell where it began and ended in the shadows. Her black hair danced about bare shoulders, bouncing about as she stretched her legs into positions that made Stone wince just to see them. ”Not anytime soon, no.”

”Always the life of the party, hm?” She gave her fellow Valkyrie a teasing wink. Her favorite kind of wink. ”What are you so worried about? I’ve got this.”

”That is what I’m worried about?” She had a long sigh, not liking the cockiness in Devine’s voice at all. ”I know you like to have fun in the ring, but-”

”But don’t go too hard on the poor rookie, right?” She wagged a finger Stone’s way and popped to her feet, strutting off with a full swagger in her thonged hips. Devine blew a kiss her way as she slipped through the curtains. ”Don’t worry so much. I’ll make sure we both have a good time.”

”And next, from São Paulo, Brazil, standing at a svelte five feet and nine inches and 135 pounds, for the first time on Friction, give it up for Devine!

The crowd did, indeed, ‘give it up’, which was a nice change of pace for Devine. These Friction fans hadn’t really been exposed to the Valkyries antics in Tension - oh, sure, there was a smattering of boos from the more knowledgeable fans, but the rest either didn’t know about her wrestling history or didn’t care. She was a hot Brazilian in a thong. What else mattered?

With a hand on her hips and a gleam in her eye, Devine came down the ramp with the same strut she’d brought to more than a handful of strip clubs in her time, stepping in time to the beat of Ashanti’s Only U]. One foot striding in front of the other, long strides that showed off her legs, the occasional gluteal flex, winking in the right directions, tossing her hair here and there.

She hopped onto the apron, came in through the ropes one leg at a time, and then and only then did she look at her opponent beyond a glance. What she saw put an immediate smile on her face. Isa Armstrong was every bit the exotic sort of beauty that a name like that would imply - dark skin, luscious hair, and legs that rivaled Devine’s when it came to pleasing the eye. There were almost of the same height, both blessed with bodies that would draw the eyes of any man in the room. This was a woman Devine had little qualms rubbing up against, and she had even less qualms with showing it.

”Hi, hey, hello.” She started to walk around Isa, trying to get a good look at her from different angles, enjoying the feel of the oil between her toes as she went. ”Welcome to the AFW. Can already tell you’ll fit right in, here.”

Back in the ring, Isa had no idea who to expect or what to expect of them. Sure, she’d taken the time to root through a who’s who of the big names in Friction – Cecilia Northman, Valley Doll, The Imperial Order – but something told her that anyone big like that wouldn’t be doing a warmup match in a house show with a first-time rookie purely hired for enhancement talent.

No, she was still not happy about that, not happy at all.

Of course, if she was fighting someone new to Friction, that meant there was no way she was going to know who they were.

Devine certainly wasn’t a name Isa was familiar with, not even when she saw the woman it was attached to. Dark-skinned, darker than Isa’s own tan, long black hair, a little taller but not as heavy.

And from the glances Isa stole as the other woman made her way to the ring, this was another dancer. Not many others to her knowledge had that sort of grace, that sort of gait. ‘Devine’ certainly had the legs to go with it and was making the sort of entrance that went well with the match they were scheduled to have.

Though, as her dad always advised, Isa didn’t take more than stolen glances. No, she stayed in her corner, making sure she was fully warmed up, her muscles as loose and lithe as she needed them to be.

When her opponent came over, Isa had one of those long, muscular legs propped up on the top rope and was leaning into it, stretching out her quads and hamstrings in a way that had more than a few of the audience paying her considerable attention.

Tossing her hair over one shoulder, the Irishwoman shot the other woman a look – it wasn’t intentionally coy but there wasn’t a better word to describe it.

”Hey yourself,” She returned, lowering her limb and turning to face Devine, a slight measuring smile curling her lips. Isa might be irked but that didn’t mean this couldn’t be turned around. Ok, she didn’t know anything about Devine – maybe she’d be decent about this and they could put on a proper match.

Ok, so they’d have to start on their knees but… Maybe?

That smile didn’t reassure her, she had to be honest.

”You might want to wait till after we throw down to say that,” She cautioned, coming out of her corner now to join the mutual circling, trying not to wince at the feeling of the oil under her toes, ”’Cause I’m not going easy on you.”

Maybe her banter wasn’t quite at its best tonight.

Isa was a dancer. Not any old dancer, but a pole dancer. Once. Maybe not for long, maybe not in a long while, maybe not as a stripper, but at some point those legs had graced the metal.

Devine would never bill herself as the smartest woman in the room, but like recognized like, and she could see many familiar facets in her opponent tonight. It was in the moves she made, the subtle sway of the hips, the poses she struck, probably without even realizing. Once you’d learned how to turn men’s heads at a whim, it was hard to turn that off. Though, to be fair, Devine rarely wanted to turn it off.

It wasn’t hard to picture her on stage with a pole, either. Those legs, those eyes, that hair, that skin - Isa’s heritage was mixed, Devine could sooth that out the moment she stepped in the ring, but a mix of what, exactly? Exotic, wild, unknown, the sort of thing that got blood pumping. The outfit she wore would’ve won top honors at any competition, would’ve complemented so many routines...

Unlike Isa, Devine made no attempts to hide where her interests laid. Her eyes shifted from Isa’s legs to her body to those dazzling eyes, then back to her legs as they moved to face over. Sizing each other up, licking her lips, circling like wolves. Isa’s reaction to the oil didn’t go unnoticed, either - her first time in oil, perhaps? Something to note.

She was so wrapped up in her silent admiration that it took her a moment to hear her opponent’s words, really register them, and her eyebrow tweaked when she did. Interesting accent. Couldn’t place it.

”Oh?” She kicked a little oil on Isa’s ankles and skipped a step ahead, playful in their circling. ”Wait to say what, exactly? That you’ve got the sort of body that most women around here wish for?” A complement, but one with an added meaning on top, as she ran a hand down her own sides. It earned hoots and hollers from most of the audience - save for Stone, who was just now taking a seat in the front row. Devine swore she could hear her fellow Valkyrie groaning, even from here.

”No, I don’t need to wait to say that at all. As for the other thing…” She ceased the circling and dropped to one knee, then the other, and beckoned Isa on as the referee took up position nearby. ”Show me.”

If Devine recognised Isa’s background, that was something they shared as Isa too could see the influence in Devine’s entrance. That and the announcer’s remark that Devine was new to Friction was making her wonder just what sort of match she was in for here. Clearly the fans knew who she was – Isa wasn’t about to miss the sprinkling of boos that flavoured the pop of the crowd – but she didn’t seem to be a big deal. Nor was she Japanese, Isa was betting on South American of some sort.

Was this some sort of ‘sex sells’ thing to open the event? Where they were both just hired for their looks and that’s why the hardcore fans were booing? Was that even a thing anymore? It wasn’t like this was the 90s or something?

But she was only going to find out one way and that was the hard and probably painful way.

Well, if she’d wanted a pain-free life, she shouldn’t have signed up for pole dancing or wrestling…

Her opponent’s voice kept her grounded though, and Isa’s lips twitched at what she had to say. Ah now this she could work with. Which wasn’t to say that all was forgiven and she was all happy again about all this, but she couldn’t deny the appeal of a bit of trash-talking before the fun started.

”You’re cute,” She offered amiably, eyebrows raised as she gave Devine a quick-once over in return, followed by a shrug, ”But don’t you think you’re trying just a bit too hard there, sweetie?”

At least one person in the front row chuckled at that.

”And you don’t have to ask…” Even as she spoke, Isa was sinking down to one knee herself, then to the other in a mimicry on Devine’s stance. Spreading her arms in a grappling stance, the newcomer went to close the distance slowly – wary of sudden moves from her opponent as well as her ‘footing’ in the slippery oil.

”Let’s do this.” Unfamiliar as she was with the oil, Isa was planning to play this the same way as she played any other match. Take her time, wear her opponent down and then go to work. In that respect, the oil almost played to her favour – forcing them to start off in her wheelhouse.

If it wasn’t for being booked as bikini filler, she might almost have enjoyed the challenge. As it was, sorry Devine, but Isa was going to have to make a point at her expense.

Nothing personal.

”Cute?”

That word alone brought a smile to Devine’s rose red lips, glistening in the light. A little bit more on the right than on the left, just the barest glimpse of folded skin around her lips, and the subtlest rise in her prim eyebrows. She casted a quick glance at the audience, trying to find the source of that oddly familiar lone laugh for a moment, before she brought her focus back where it belonged.

”Just ‘cute’? I haven’t been ‘cute’ in a long time.” She reached down and took some oil over her fingertips, getting them nice and wet, before she spread it over both her shoulders. Not that they needed to be rubdowned before the match, they’d be more than wet enough in a minute, but she liked to go ahead and get accustomed to the sensation.

”I’ll see if I can change your opinion before we’re done here.” She slid her knees along the oiled canvas, stretching and showing off some flexibility, before rising to match her opponent’s height. ”Let’s.”

From the sidelines, Stone looked on with a curious eye. She wasn’t too impressed with Devine’s figure - not that her fellow Valkyrie wasn’t a pleasure to look at, but it wasn’t anything she hadn’t seen before, even in similar situations. They lived under the same room, had no qualms walking about unclothed, and they’d even had some casual sex. Nothing new.

No, her focus was more on this newcomer. Sassy, enough to get a laugh out of Stone when she’d heard that quip, but more than anything she had quite a body to work with. As a dedicated gym rat herself, she could spot a well-made body with ease, and Isa’s struck her eye. In particular, those legs…

Devine wasn't oblivious to that, either, but it was the further things on her mind when the referee called for the bell. The second she heard the bell, she surged forward, moving as fast her knee-steps would allow, and plowed into Isa in a wild attempt to push her towards the ropes. Establishing dominance was key in these matches, and she intended to do so early on.

”Aw,” Isa grinned, aware that she was trolling and not feeling sorry in the slightest. Everybody loved some pre-battle banter and, if Devine was going to set herself for it so easily, she’d be rude not to follow through. ”Don’t worry, you’re still cute to me.”

She winked, keeping her eyes firmly on Devine as her opponent rose up, keeping her hands loose and ready.

”I mean, you don’t look that old.”

It was about that moment when the bell tolled, signalling the start of the bout. Luckily for Isa, she had her eyes on Devine or she would have been caught completely flat-footed.

As it was, it felt like she was still far from ready. Still, her opponent was bearing down on her and something told her that she wasn’t going to get a break until she was ready.

Isa couldn’t help the slight gulp as she braced herself. But then Devine slammed into her and would get almost exactly what she wanted as Isa put up almost no resistance whatsoever.

In fact, she did the opposite. She went with the momentum, letting Devine take them both to the mat, in fact doing her utmost to drag the other woman down with her.

What Isa was worrying about was position. Specifically the position of her legs, which she had brought up and splayed out as she fell. Exactly as they would have been if Devine had actually just run her over.

Of course, a more careful Devine would have an excellent chance of avoiding the fairly simple trap. This one however might find herself in the unenviable position of finding herself with Isa’s legs closing on her around her slim waist, the Irishwoman’s ankles lacing together high behind her opponent’s back.

If successful, Isa would take just a beat to smirk in Devine’s face. ”Gotcha.”

Then she’d bring the squeeze, her thick, dancer-trained thighs doing their best to cut Devine in half.

Not that she expected a submission here but she’d love to crush some of the fight out of her opponent, start grinding her down properly and show her that Isa Armstrong wasn’t some rookie to be pushed around.

Hm. Devine would be lying if she said the crack on her age didn’t hit the smallest sore spot. She was hot, she knew she was hot, and the multitude of roving eyes that followed her down to the ring were proof enough of that - all the same, the slow march of time was starting to take the slightest toll on her body, and she didn’t need to be reminded of it.

She wouldn’t let it show, wouldn’t give Isa the satisfaction, but she put a bit of extra oomph into her charge forward, was just that much more determined to bring Isa to the mat. Which she proceeded to do. Easily, in fact. Far, far too easily.

As a frequent setter of traps, Devine was keen enough to realize when she was falling into one herself, and that was definitely the vibe she received here. Something about the look on Isa’s face gave off alarm bells, right from the start. She didn’t have the look of a woman who’d just found herself in an unenviable position from the opening bell. She looked like a woman who was in control. A woman who was about to dominate. A woman who was on top.

‘Gotcha’. Yeah, no, Devine didn’t like the sound of that. ”What are-”

Devine’s unspoken question was answered in the worst way possible. Isa’s legs had come around her waist, but she didn’t think much of that, not at first, figuring it was just part of her struggle, a consequence of them rolling around. But the legs were closing in, growing, giving her less and less space. The flexing began, the pressing, the crushing. Inconvenient turned to uncomfortable, and from there…

”Ghhhk!”

Devine made a noise that was halfway between a cry of pain and a hiss, as her body went into a fit, squirming about, looking for any relief from the unending pressure that was coming down on her waist. It didn’t even feel like legs were crushing her, not really, but two bars of steel. There was no give, just this crushing force, taking away her every breath.

She needed out, now, and she went about getting that freedom with a wild struggle, twisting about in the oil, frantically pushing at Isa’s legs, even driven her elbows into that thick thigh of hers.

‘What are-‘

Well, Isa would be lying if she claimed to have not heard that before. Actually, the first time she’d heard it, she’d been in almost this exact same position in her dad’s wrestling school and it had been a football player in Devine’s position, enjoying the exact same experience between her legs.

Of course, she’d refined her technique a little since then (and strengthened her legs) so it was not surprising but still gratifying to hear Devine’s rapid reaction to her first hold as a member of Friction.

It was a good omen, she felt.

Of course, Devine wasn’t agreeing and the taller woman was making a definite and determined attempt to escape the leggy coils that were closing tighter and tighter around her body.

Needless to say, pushing at Isa’s thighs would be both ineffectual in the extreme and also give Devine an excellent opportunity to feel the honed muscles that were pressing into her body right below her floating ribs.

The elbow was less pleasant for Isa, drawing a grunt from her, but she bore with it, equally determined both to wring as much of the fight from Devine as she could and to demonstrate that she could be far more than bikini filler.

To that end, she sat up as if she was doing crunches, going to wrap her arms around her opponent’s neck and shoulders just like she was giving her a nice hug. More importantly, it would let her reposition her legs for greater effect and also she hoped to use it to roll the two of them over onto their sides. That would trap one of Devine’s arms under her, halving the danger from the side, and Isa felt like she’d have more control that way.

But the key thing was to keep Devine as up close as possible, depriving her of space to throw fists and elbows, and keep on squeezing, putting that lower body power to the best use possible.

”D’you know how many girls and boys I’ve made tap like this?” She husked into Devine’s ear, her voice rough with effort, ”’Cause you’re about to be next, babydoll. There’s no escape from these legs…”

As if to make her point clearer, she grunted, her thighs drawing still tighter if Devine could imagine that was possible.

Stone and Devine had a fairly complex relationship - that was what Stone thought, anyway. Devine would probably consider it to be a simple one. They worked together, hung out, assisted each other, and occasionally fucked when the suited them.

Stone felt it was deeper than that. Devine was a hard woman to read at times, and she reminded her of a cat. Makoto was ostensibly the head of their little trio, but it seemed like the Brazilian always did her own thing whenever, only went with the flow when things were convenient. Always flirting, alway cool, she could probably count all the times they’d yelled at each other since they’d met on a single hand. She wouldn’t even need all the fingers.

They were friends, Stone would say. Even so, it was hard not to feel like Devine was getting at least some of her comeuppance at the moment.

Devine had come looking for an easy win, wanting to get her name in circulation, turn some heads, have some fun. She’d succeeded in two of those goals already, since this sort of start was guaranteed to draw some attention. As for the fun, though…

”Guah!”

Yeah.

‘Fun’ was about the farthest thing from Devine’s mind right now. There wasn’t too much fun about having her innards compressed and her ribs ground to a pulp, about having being sawed in half by two of the hardest legs she’d ever encountered. Isa’s thighs were inexorable, pushing down with such pressure that the simple act of breathing was a chore. This was insane power. Deadly power. And the most terrifying thing about it was how they only kept getting worse. As if Isa was drawing power from some limitless well, getting stronger with each second.

When Isa pulled her in, Devine almost tapped right away, even raised her hand for it, and it was only sheer stubbornness that kept her from doing it. Stone was watching, Makoto would get wind of this, everyone in the gang would see it sooner or later, and the last thing she needed was that stain on her reputation. That left her one option: Escape. She needed the ropes.

There was some good news on that front. The oil made sliding along the canvas easy, even in this position, and Devine gladly took advantage of it. Frenzied and frantic, she pushed the two of them along to the ropes with everything she had, reaching with her spare hand when she close enough to grab the bottom one with a white-knuckled grip.

”Break!” She squawked, craving her freedom. “Breakbreakbreak-”