Showdown '19: Zulime Lafitte vs Pierre Vulliard: Hardstyle Hentai Match

Zulime just wanted to improvise, really. While she hadn't shown too much to the French Canadian man in that gym, she knew that it didn't take that much to start putting things together. The Riverboat Queen was quite smart, like her muscular opponent, but she lacked the degrees that Pierre may have had. Her intelligence did not come with A's and B's but instead with C's and D's - C's, for that baseline note that centered her piano playing and D's, which was to say her beautiful body and the effect that it had on people. There was no plan here in this match, just as there was never any sort of plan in life or in the ring or even in front of a piano.

She completed the handspring and wheeled around, ready to keep bringing the fight to Pierre. "Woo!" She cried with a fist pump. The audience responded to her with a huge roar, and Zulime carried that energy forward. It was nice to have the crowd on your side - Zulime knew how strong that feedback loop could be, with the crowd supporting a wrestler and a wrestler supporting the crowd in turn. The Riverboat Queen first experienced that playing with a band in the main hall of the ship, doing her best to rock and roll the same way the boat did during a storm. She was a shy girl then, a decent pianist but not anywhere near boisterous enough to earn the respect of the rowdy New Orleans crowd. As such, the crowd ate her alive. Zulime learned that day that presentation was as important as performance was, so her turn was complimented by a quick swaying of her hips.

But Zulime couldn't spend that long worrying about them. She plunged down to the ground, with a knee stuck out. The Cajun girl was aiming between Pierre's shoulder blades to nail Pierre to the ground, but that would not be the end of the act. Instead, she would quickly transition so that she was lying right on top of the French Canadian fellow, ideally with her legs wrapped around Pierre if she were able to finagle enough space for herself.

From there, she would try to wrap her arm around Pierre's neck for a rear naked choke. She did not know the names of many moves, but she knew that one. When she first learned it, Zulime was told that most of the power of the move doesn't come from the power in your arm, but rather how you used her body. So she expanded her chest by breathing. That would be a fun little bit of psychological warfare - that Pierre would hear her breathing as his own capacity to breathe was more limited. Especially because it meant that Zulime's large chest was leading the way. "[Good night, sweetie.]" Her French was soft and kind. Unlike how hard she was trying to get that choke.

There’s an old Korean proverb that Pierre had heard from his many travels around the world, coming from money meant that he could go wherever he wished and do what he wanted. He couldn’t remember how it goes exactly. Even monkeys may fall from trees, is how it went — supposed to insinuate that even experts like him can make mistakes now and then. That one shouldn’t let their shortcomings keep them down.

Having been thoroughly laid out by Zulime while the match was still in its infancy, heck, not even a minute has passed and the Quebecois was finding those words hovering above his head like the universe was getting ready to spit in his face. Pierre had fallen from that tree more than enough times to have gotten used to the drop. However, at some point, he was beginning to wonder if his mind was becoming scared to climb again, that the reason he kept slipping wasn’t anything he had done consciously, but rather like his mind and body weren’t in agreement. It was like it was unavoidable, like fate or some higher power somewhere that resides in the earth or the heavens were setting him up to lose on the biggest night of his career.

Fuck that. Even if his head spit in tow, he wasn’t about to lay down and take this any longer. Especially after not all that mendacious, Janus-faced whore had done. He had to put her in her place. Make her regret fucking with him. Had to. So, the French-Canadian slammed the side of his fist into the canvas, pushed himself up to-

Yeah, never mind, Pierre was taken down tout de suite by Zulime with…whatever the fuck that was. No mercy here tonight.

Proven even more as a knee would be driven right into his spine, letting out a loud grunt further nailed onto the canvas. That alone would have been enough, but the Louisianan native sought to twist the knife into his back. Stunned enough, the shock travelling through him delayed his movement for a moment, but a moment was enough for the Riverboat Queen as an electric current ran through his spin and shot through his fingertips. That was when he realised Zulime was laying on top of him, her legs wrapped around him and before he could move, the Riverboat Queen’s arms snaked around his neck for a Rear Naked Choke. “Ghhk!”

Yeah, that rear-naked choke. The one that Pierre used that night. A true fan of poetic justice, this cunt.

Then again, why else would she have set up that match? It was built on revenge, her stupid revenge. That alone didn’t do much to his temper, and he thrashed around, feeling her large chest pressed up on his back where her knee just drove into. Simply grabbing at the arm that is pressing at his throat, having to hear Zulime breathing into his damn ear and speak more French. [“Gah! Bitch!”] He growled, thrashing around like a wild bull and she was the rider, though with her hooks in, dislodging her was proving to be difficult, especially as air is becoming a much-needed thing for his brain.

Zulime was doing everything in her power just to hold on. Piere's muscles were more than just for show, as she quickly learned out. The dominant position she was in helped, but she did have to call on great wells of her own power in order to stay on Pierre's back. The French Canadian man was not going to go gently into that good night, as it turned out. Had the situations been reversed, Zulime would have done nothing short of moving heaven and earth to try and rid herself of this hated man, so it was perhaps appropriate that Pierre was doing the same. Her large breasts were like mushrooms against Pierre's back, which would surely provide the photographers and ample subject to work with. Whatever. As long as Zulime was in the driver's seat, she was more than okay with any pictures that the photographers took.

Most of all, because there would be lots of good photos coming. No one had energy reserves that lasted forever, and sooner or later even this raging bull of a man would realize that he was only wasting energy after a certain point. She didn't know if that time would come sooner or later, but she knew that she could get that rolling along if she made the right moves here. One of her legs started inching towards Pierre's crotch, until she found the gentleman's manhood. With her foot, she began rubbing it gently, taunting the man. One of the main undercurrents of wrestling was dominance, and she wanted to truly dominate this man sexually.

But it was not going to stop there. Her foot would begin working the man's member, but her hand would start gently going up and down the side of Pierre's face. She expected it to be sweaty, but on a much more real level, she expected the move to be quite humiliating to her opponent. It was one thing to be choked and have your sex worked, but it was another thing entirely for that to happen concurrently with a mocking caress. It was like they were truly lovers.

"Ain't you just gonna be a sweetie and cum for me, darlin'? Promise it won't be that bad." Zulime's taunt came with her thick southern drawl, and an even deeper laugh. The Riverboat Queen liked being in control, and she especially liked being in control against a man she hated as much as she hated Pierre. The fact that the man could only do so much was just icing on the cake.

Oh, fuck off.

Legitimately. This bitch could just fuck off. So she caught Pierre off guard once, maybe once and a half, and she was already looking for some medal. Jeez, was she asking for it. The French-Canadian wanted nothing more than to just wanted to stand up, pull her hand back, and give the duplicitous cunt a swift hook to the jaw and watch her drop like a sack of bricks. Then she’d see who's laughing. Fuck choking her out and shit. Zulime doesn't even deserve a thread of his superior skill.

That wasn’t happening now, though. Not even close. All the Quebecois could manage at the moment was to grab at the arm that is pressing at his throat like a knife held onto it. Small arms, but enough to slip past and not get caught by Pierre’s chin, which he should have had it tucked inside. Pierre should have expected something like this. Zulime went all this way into making this match into absolute obloquy for Pierre, from the entrance and even with the moves, she was using. So, he should have expected a Rear Naked Choke from the Louisianan. Too much was riding on her to complete such a showing of ignominy. And this sordidness was only confounded even more once her foot is added into this fucked up equation.

As like Pierre’s drunken grope of her breasts that one night he'd rather forget. Though the only difference is that Zulime is far from inebriated.

The entire world seemed like it was balancing on a needle. Everything mixed in a haze, losing himself in confusion mixed with the jeers, wolf whistles, hollers and cheers from the Japanese audience. Zulime could have been as invective as she wanted, as much as she believed to be in the right but even, she knew that there was a show to be put on. Still, she didn’t like it when he touched her, what was she expecting when she would try the same?

If the answer is “Shiver and grow stiff in more ways than one” then she’d be correct.

He shouldn’t have been so surprised when the Riverboat Queen rubbed her foot on his member, but once it started doing so, in the tightest of trunks, he certainly was. Of course, this is a hentai match. The French-Canadian’s first reaction would be to bat away that mischievous foot, but the amalgam of pain and pleasure became too much for him to do anything, sighing through clenched teeth. His body was starting to get out of his control, Zulime simply controlling and playing him like a cat with a mouse. Moving his hips would wound up rubbing against it, making this whole affair even worse. But things couldn’t keep going this way. Not for his first match, a Pay-Per-View match of all things. He must find an opening and fast.

Time to use those "superior skills" then.

Once his brain managed to find its wits together, his body followed, in a brief moment to fight back the lustful haze, his member growing harder by the second and near tenting his trunks, the fabric straining underneath almost. One arm sought to go up and grasp at one of Zulime’s arms, the one that isn’t pressing at his throat, the other reaching down to her legs, a quick attempt to get those hooks off. The Quebecois would seek to make this a quick affair, a burst of energy to go with him spinning his body, which might leave him in trouble should this not work, but if all goes well, this would all be worth it for a chance at freedom.

Zulime felt the arm around Pierre's neck. Just a few millimeters more, just that little bit of press more, and the French Canadian man would be lights out. Zulime felt Pierre's arm on her own hand, stopping Zulime from getting the choke in any tighter, with his strong hands preventing her from getting where she needed to go. Zulime felt her own body pressing against Pierre's back, her breasts mushrooming against Pierre's strong back. The crowd were cheering now. They were getting all of the sex and violence that they paid all that money for, and Zulime was soaking it all in, bit by bit. If there was anywhere in the world where she was meant to be, it was here. Or, well, maybe New Orleans.

But Zulime was not all good. Pierre was using his actual wrestling knowledge to get around her rear naked choke. She was not quite sure how she was losing the hold, but she did feel that she was losing her grasp on the man. She would have to not only think quickly, but rely on the modicum of wrestling knowledge she had. Zulime quickly tried to reconstitute the position, but slightly more on her terms. Instead of trying to get those hooks back in, she recognized that the way forward would not be that apparent, what with how strong Pierre was. Rather, Zulime tried to get a quick triangle going around his body with her legs. That would provide her some stability, and a chance to maintain the hold.

But more importantly, it would give her the possibility of her getting her foot back on Pierre's manhood. Her foot kept moving in the same sensual manner that it did earlier. "Where you goin', darlin'? Ain't you havin' fun?" Zulime thrust her pelvis forward a little bit, just to keep the motion flowing. She did a little fake moan too, because she wanted to annoy the crap out of this French Canadian guy. The crowd, for their part, were cheering Zulime on even more. The movements had been subtle ones, that must have been lost on a vast majority of the crowd, the one to maintain the hold that was. But they knew what was going on, and the Riverboat Queen was giving them everything that they wanted. She scanned for cameras too, making sure that all eyes were on her.

"I like it when the boys moan. Come on then, let's hear you moan. You know that this is gonna be all over the news, darlin'. All them magazine covers, with your moanin' face on it." Zulime was louder now. It was still unlikely that it could be heard over all of the hooting and hollering that the crowd was carrying on with, but she hoped that her stage voice would carry. Her sweat was dripping onto Pierre's body. It was good, she thought. Pure. LIke the rage she was feeling towards this man.

The only saving grace to a humiliating position is the fact that Pierre still had the knowhow when in precarious situations like this. Plus, it also helps that Zulime wasn’t among the god-tier levels of skill when it came to the ground. Something which the Quebecois still had an advantage over and could even turn the tides in his favour. That is if his brain didn’t resemble a bunch of mashed potatoes at this point.

"Akkk...nnnggk....grrrrrgk!!!"

To say he was embarrassed would be the understatement of the year. The French-Canadian was downright livid by how easily he was getting dominated by this chick. The snickering he could barely pick up nearby from the Japanese crowd despite the erotic haze clouding his mind and Zulime whispering sweet nothings in one ear. This was the biggest match of his life, and the Riverboat cunt was here to sweep the spotlight right out from under him. That Louisianan bitch was enjoying herself a bit too much with this whole thing. Not that the Cajun didn’t earn it; however, she was pretty much clean, and any idea that she was cheating would be quashed straight away. It still pissed the French-Canadian right the hell off, and the fact that Zulime some-fucking-how countered Pierre’s escape, intercepting it with a triangle did no favours to his mood.

The resumed footjob took his mind off his frustrations for a single moment as his cock throbbed, his trunks tenting from his stiffened member. All the nerves throbbed and sent messages as if the cock itself loved it. Perhaps a bit more than Zulime would realise, but she was busy exaggerating her movements, thrusting her hips, letting out the fakest moan that ever reached his ears, her breasts rubbing up and down on his back. The Riverboat Queen must be enjoying herself right now, the fact that she, with only a fraction of wrestling knowledge, is handling this man like it’s nothing. It’s downright sickening. And the Louisianan had the unmitigated gall to ask if he was having fun. “Gaaahh…nnnnggghk….fuck!!!” Of course, he’s not having fun. The last thing he wanted was for this match to end in a shutout, but that seemed to be the direction things were headed. Where fate was heading. Precum was starting to leak out, luckily, it’s in the dark part of his trunks, or he wouldn’t hear the end of it from that bitch. His member throbbed even more as if telling Zulime it is close and is needing the sweet release, his flesh betraying him for pleasure. Everyone was in favour of this fraudulent cunt. Why? How easy are they swayed to her side? It’s disgusting. It’s-

[“Ooh la la~ Who knew a pompous ass like you would like this?]

The fuck? Great, now he hears voices. Just his luck. Though what is weird is that it wasn’t Zulime’s voice. Pierre knew as much. It was French but less hillbilly. Just pure French. Natural. But he couldn’t put the finger on who…

[“Soon as I press send, everyone will see this. News will be talking about it; the internet will watch it over and over. Everyone. And they are going to like it~ I like it when the boys moan. Come on then, let's hear you moan. You know that this is gonna be all over the news, darlin'. All them magazine covers, with your moanin' face on it."

“NO!” Nuh-uh. Not fucking happening. This is not how it’s going down. Not like this. Teeth gritted hard; one hand came towards her sides before all of a sudden attempting to clamp hard at her obliques, damn right seeking to crush it with his bare hand. It isn’t clean, but it’s effective. One that Zulime should know indeed from that one night.[/color]

Zulime was not a cruel woman. At least, not most of the time. She found that wonton brutality tended to be so final, and she always liked to leave her options open. When you humiliated someone, you ended any chances at liaisons that could be advantageous down the line. But here, Zulime was enjoying it. She loathed having her body touched by someone when she was not in complete control of the situation, let alone when it was someone she had just met. The Riverboat Queen had her own set of laws and morals, one bespoke to the creeking pines of the swamp and the miasma that oozed from the Mississippi River. Her mores demanded integrity, and not in the sense of the knight of the round table. No, it demanded that any transgressions must be met with force three times that of what happened.

She was doing that several times over. Her foot was working hard now, and the moans that she was getting from the man were heaven to her. The moans and groans of ecstasy that she heard in her backwoods revivals were from the loa entering their souls, but they were not like anything she was hearing now. These moans were from Zulime's cruel streak seeping into Pierre's psyche, stemming from his manhood. She was breathing out of her nose. The Cajun girl knew that the neck was a terribly sensitive area, and Zulime was a pitbull. Those hot streams of air would play on the side of the neck that was not being currently strangle. Her brown eyes roamed down Pierre's body. The Quebecois man had a fantastic body, after all, and now the crowd got to see it in all of its splendor.

But it was not going to last forever. Pierre reached around and started crushing her obliques. Zulime immediately yelped and let go of the hold and the triangle, ceding any advantage she had won for herself. Zulime thought that she ought to back away, recognizing that her ability to fight on the ground was not anywhere near Pierre's level. She totally let go and rolled over her back onto her feet and took a few steps away from her opponent. With a measured confidence, she brushed her hair from the side of her face and placed a hand on her hip. The smile on her face was infectious, at least that was what all of the crowd were telling her.

"So, darlin', have I hit a nerve?" She shifted her weight to her other hip. "Ain't mean nothin' by it. Thought you might like it, in fact. Figurin' a man like you don't get much like that other than what he does himself..." The quick motion she made with her hand showed her opponent and the world exactly what she meant by that. She then waved Pierre over, beckoning him to begin again. "And wouldn't I be delighted to make sure you get yer dessert." Her thick Cajun accent was dripping with malevolence and sex and condescension.

She hunkered down into her wrestling stance. Strictly speaking, it wasn't necessary for her to stick her butt out this much. But she knew that all of the cameras were on her, and she did not intend to waste that film.

Zulime is a slippery little cunt, wasn't she?

It wasn't bad enough that Pierre had been tumbling downhill right out of the gate, but now this twat of an opponent didn't even seem up to giving him a chance to bounce back. Not that he would ever expect any slack from someone who was trying to indulge in her own selfish, hedonistic, self-justice. The Riverboat Queen made that much clear from the very beginning when he got caught with that feint. Zulime was going all-in on the attack, nothing held back at the slightest. The kind of setup the man from Québec liked. Didn't mean it wasn't frustrating as shit just trying to get something good here, or even land one good hit. Getting her hooks off from him was one thing but all this effort was supposed to results in him being free. You know, not have some backwater sybaritic on your back getting a good kick out of someone's misfortune. Well, if you could say getting pleasured a misfortune. It was perhaps a small benefit compared to being on the verge of choked out by someone who hasn't gotten a freaking starter belt. That much pissed him off, even more, so that this footjob was working. She knew how to use them, which tends to be overlooked among the other body parts that other hentai fighters tend to use. Probably ranked highest in most humiliating to cum to. And he had an experience of that, but let’s not get into that.

Pierre could do something about the triangle that the Riverboat Queen formed with her legs, but that’s hard to deal with when your cock is about to explode with every passing minute he spends being idle. Perhaps that is what Zulime was banking on, him being stunned and allow the cameras to get a massive cumshot that would be on the highlights for this year’s Showdown. All while playing at his psyche, completely toying with his mind and his large member. His own body on display for something that he’d rather not be in. Everything was deliberate, all for Zulime to get the most out of it and get what she thinks is vengeance. Self-indulgence, he’d rather call it — nothing more, nothing less.

Which is why he did what he did. It was not something of a skill, but in the end, results mattered. It worked when Zulime did it to him and now he was paying him back with interest. The yelp he had gotten from the Cajun cunt was worth it in the end. His grip was much stronger and could dig his fingers into her sides. He probably would have considering what just snapped inside. Zulime was going for mind games with this one, trying to play with him. And it worked. Perhaps a bit too well. He was finding the strength to break free from the seductive shackles that chained him down. Finally, he managed to get some sorely needed space from this damn woman, slumping onto his hands and knees, his throbbing member twitched and stiff, looking like a hung horse. Taking some deep inhales of air granted Pierre the first taste of freedom in what felt like ages, a few drops of sweat hit the canvas as well as another…fluid from somewhere. He hadn’t been this flustered and worked up this much in a match before. His heart is pounding like a jackhammer, mind racing like an AMG F1 W10 car down Silverstone. A swirling tempest of emotions going around inside, trying to make sense of them. As his hands clenched into fists and teeth gritted, Zulime’s taunts not helping in the slightest, considering how inconsiderate this bitch was. It took much to take a deep breath to calm himself before propping himself up to his knees. An anguished glare of determination being directed his way before muttering…[”fuck sake.”]

Coming up to his feet, rolling his neck, felt nice not having an arm around it as he stood up to his feet. “We’re coming to dessert? Then that’s the sorriest main course I ever had.” He said with a nearly defeated sigh, as if disappointed at an attempt of his joke, slumped shoulders as he came closer to the beckoning Zulime, hunkered in her wrestling stance. “Look, I guess you want an apology or something, because of what happened before. I mean, if I’m going to lose this match, I might as well sort this out and-“ Whatever the French-Canadian was about to say would be interrupted by him suddenly throwing a wild haymaker straight at Zulime’s head. A distraction and a bit of foul play from the Quebecois, hoping he’d make her spin. If he does, Pierre will come dashing to wrap his arms around the Riverboat Queen for a waistlock before lifting her up for a backwards roll, and then transitioning into a bridging German Suplex, putting it all on this.

Zulime was a fortunate woman. She was fortunate to have been born with her stunning good looks and her long lustrous hair, given to her by her mother's side of the family. She was fortunate to have been raised on the riverboat, enjoying all of the innumerous benefits that afforded her. And finally, here tonight, she was fortunate in that the biggest jobber in all of Tension happened to have been the one that groped her there in the gym. Despite the fact that her side was still lit up with pain, thanks to Pierre clawing it, she felt like she was on top of the world. So far, this match had been pretty easy for her, and now Zulime wanted to keep the party going. The fact that Pierre was still erect was not lost on a woman as observant as Zulime, and the same self-satisfied smile she usually bore got just a little bit wider. She was the one standing tall now, and Pierre was the one who was licking his wounds. The surge of confidence that she felt permeated every last inch of her body, as she prepared herself for the next interchange.

"Oh yeah, darlin'? Ain't I glad that you-" Wham. Zulime was right in the middle of a devastating retort when Pierre hit her with a haymaker right across that pretty face of hers. Zulime's mouth was agape. Some of it was due to the fact she had just been struck across the face and she was in a ton of pain, but most of it was due to the surprise of it. She loved the banter, and thought that Pierre was going to engage in that with her. The Riverboat Queen was also surprised that she had not thought of such a dirty and devious move first. She listed to the side, and how much she had spun to the side evinced the fact that the force of the blow and the suddenness with which it had come meant that Zulime would plummet with nothing but the white expanse of canvas to break her fall.

Then Pierre stepped in. Zulime was lifted into the air and then slammed into the mat behind her. When Pierre first accosted her there, she breathed in deeply. The power of the haymaker was still felt in the burning on her face, and the follow up was met with a gasp but little else. Zulime could hardly think about that now with her shoulders on the mat and her whole neck and back area alighting with agony.

No one could see it, but Zulime's teeth were revealed now too. It wasn't the assured smile of earlier, but rather a grimace of pain. Zulime's shapely legs now dangled over her body. There was never a good time to be punched in the face, but what made things worse was that she absolutely hated the guy who threw it. But more than that, she hated that he had the werewithal to follow it up brilliantly. Had she watched the move, she might have applauded it, the same way that most in the crowd were doing. And that made her face burn with anger all the more.

The match was still young, and she hadn't been hit all that much. So she did what she could to try and roll away from her Quebecois opponent, but the pain was slowing her down more than she had imagined it would. Although, there was a very good chance that was her pride talking...

The experiences in life that the Quebecoise had persevered through took a hand in moulding him into a man that seems perfect. Perfect teeth, hair, jawline, muscles, knowledge, he’s what any woman would want. Though that is without the flaws that had also had a separate hand in shattering most of his psyche, he wasn’t going to explain it all to Zulime, the French-Canadian didn’t need to tell someone like her, but she wouldn’t’ understand anyways if he did. There wasn’t any silver lining into the harassment he experienced. No happy ending to be seen on the horizon, aside from what victories he could achieve on the tatami or even in the ring. It was weird that he came to the acceptance of potentially losing to Zulime, begrudging as he was to admit it openly…but it did help somewhat. Rather than being completely cocky like the last time with that damn blonde, he can admit that Zulime had a skill that he might not have a chance against in the art of hentai. Considering how she pretty much owned him all from being putty by just a rub of her feet. It was freeing, in a sense, feeling that he can find relief and perhaps acceptance.

But freeing also meant that he did not give a single fuck anymore.

That’s not to say the words he uttered to the Riverboat Queen were not genuine. The swelling caress of her foot and the near state of compliance he had been tamed into were experiences that weirdly liked. However, there was no mistaking that he hated Zulime, making him look like an absolute joke of a wrestler, in his debut no less, let alone a PPV match. Manipulative mindfuckery that the Louisianan weaponised into getting him into the blissful demise. Words dripping with honey but with the core that was nothing but rotten. All the animosity for such puppeteering was building up inside until he snapped hence why he brought Zulime into a false sense of security before lamping her right in the face.

The crowd wasn’t going to like such foul play, but again, Pierre didn’t give a shit. He was showing the skill that Zulime hid from the audience, having the wherewithal to capitalise on such an opening before bringing her down with the Chaos Theory Suplex. The French-Canadian didn’t say anything, Zuime wouldn’t have seen the snarl that he adorned on his lips as she rolled away, though not without Pierre chasing her down like a mad beast. He got his hands on the evading Cajun, one hand grabbing at her breast, though unlike that one night, he wasn’t so caressing with his handling, rather a hard claw into her flesh, the other arm wrapped around her abdomen before planting his boots, lifting with his legs as he would near deadlift the Riverboat Queen for something of a Northern Lights Suplex. Although the move is questionable considering where that one hand is, results mattered in the end. That and to fuck with that cunt. Mentally.