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

Zulime was rattled. Any person who spends longer than a moment or two in the ring was bound to get rocked, that was just the nature of the beast. There were ladies who now had shiny championship belts around their waists who had lost, let alone been rocked with a punch. But the Riverboat Queen could not quite remember the last time that she had been hit quite like that. For a woman as cunning as Zulime, she was practically kicking herself for being naive enough to be lulled into a sense of security. And now she was paying for it. The Cajun girl's powerful legs were jelly now, wobbly and useless. Before, she had been the proud daughter of the Mississippi River, as dark and powerful as the great waters that flowed down America's heartland. And now, she felt like a sitting duck.

That feeling ended up being correct. Zulime was seized. When it came to wrestling, it was a simple fact that you were going to get grabbed. That was the whole point of any martial art that involved grappling, after all. But there were very few people who had the audacity to make a grab at someone's breasts. For women, it was an indignity. For Zulime, however, it was nothing short of an act of war. Instantly her mind raced with slams and submission maneuvers and humiliations that she would put this gentleman through once she were in a proper position to do so.

As she was being launched backwards, it occurred to her that finding that position would take some time. She hit the mat with the force of an atom bomb, her body coming alight with pain as soon as she hit the canvas. The crowd applauded Pierre's maneuver, and it was a good one. Pierre executed it nothing short of perfectly, befitting a man who put so much effort into how things looked and worked. That stung. Zulime had put on a great show to get them in her corner. They were not chanting his name to the high heavens, of course, but when emotions were running high as they were now any sign of support for them would be taken as a sign of abandonment.

Fine, if they didn't like her now, she would earn their adulation once more. She would hit Pierre and throw Pierre and work Pierre until the man had cum and could be pinned. With a burning hatred in her heart, she commanded her body to move and get up so that she could take the fight to this odious Quebecois. Only, her body would not respond the way that she wanted it to. She managed to weakly kick her leg and turn on her side, but that was all the progress that she made. Her face was burning red now. Zulime wanted to say it was from how much rage she was feeling at the moment, but at the end of the day she knew it was the stinging shame of having her breast grabbed.

Had all of this happened when the first bell rung, Pierre probably would have been taking satisfaction and massive enjoyment in lamping the cunt that orchestrated this match just for her faux vigilantism. Effectively circumventing the established order of this match, which had Pierre become seamlessly twisted around Zulime's little finger. Subdued and toyed with for her own amusement when she had him not only in the verge of having his seed spill from his member but also getting choked the fuck out. The Riverboat Queen's skilled feet were enrapturing the Quebecoise beyond comprehension, being so masterfully manipulated by the Louisianan who was allowing him a tasting morsel of whatever erotic, blissful promises whispered into her ear, excluding ones of the brutal, pain-giving variety. What the fans watching in attendance wouldn't have given to be in this position, surrendering to Zulime's whim would have been a decision much easier made. But the French-Canadian's determination to no longer be taken advantage of allowing him the willpower to spurn these advances. Which nevertheless had the unintended effect of driving Pierre over the edge...just not in the manner, Zulime would have probably preferred.

The mental game carries it's risks as well as it's rewards, the big one being that you risk pushing further than expected. Though that is something nobody will expect to see coming when the other snaps, teasing the animal only to find themselves being caught. And hard. Even if it's done typically, Pierre's suplexes will hurt, but these had anger fueling it, even more, putting it all to deliver as much damage as possible, as if the French-Canadian seeks to drive her body through the canvas. Taking a sadistic level of satisfaction, not just from the impact but from the knowledge of whom he was performing this upon. The same arrogant piece of work who came like she was hot shit, thought she was better than the Quebecoise and who was making him out to be a joke, was now...well, decidedly less in control. Landing on the toes of his boots, showing impeccable form as soon as he landed the suplex. Typically, a pin attempt would come into play, but the stipulations didn't permit the opportunity to do so, not until those conditions were achieved. But there is a reason why he kept a hold of Zulime. With the way his hand moved up towards her crotch, the intention would be shown instantly.

Pierre was no joke when it came to wrestling, the start of his debut put him on the back foot, but now he is in control, the French-Canadian was set in putting up a show, just like Zulime did. Balancing on the crown of his head, the fingers started to massage the lips of Zulime's pantied crotch while the hand around her breast gave a much harder squeeze than before, looking to bring the Louisianan moaning and groaning, just like she did with him. Only that he sought to finish the job, unlike Zulime, the crowd may be cheering him on, a complete shift considering they were on Zulime's side earlier, but they were mostly fans of the spectacle, regardless who is performing such indignities.

How fickle of them.

Zulime knew her way around the tables of the riverboat. It was always a mathematical advantage to be on the side of the house rather than the side of some individual player, and Zulime understood that. Even if the player was using perfect strategy, they only had a slight advantage. Least of all, because she knew how rapidly fortunes could change. The Riverboat Queen thought that many of those principles could be applied to wrestling now, given how much pain she was in. Zulime was there on the mat, lying on her back. The lights above her were illuminating her body for the benefit of the crowd at a time where she did not want to be less seen.

Pierre, for his own part, was on the move. There was something about her breasts being grabbed that Zulime found particularly odious. She couldn't quite put her finger on why. At least when her pussy was toyed with she got a great deal of pleasure out of that. She enjoyed when her ample bosom was felt up, true, but it felt more self-serving than grabbing a woman's sex. Zulime did not have to pick one or the other, however, as Pierre opted to go for both.

Zulime reacted instantly, but not in a way that she would have liked. Her toes arched instantly once Pierre got to her sex. A moan escaped her lips before she could stifle it, much to her eternal shame. The Cajun girl was accustomed to giving into her concupiscent desires, but that particular temptation was something that she absolutely could not afford to give into on this particular stage. Zulime clenched her fist as tightly as she could. Had there been any Louisiana mud in her palm, it quickly would have become a rock. Zulime rocked her hips back and forth. Usually when she was doing that, she was trying to deprive some person of their hard earned money. But now, she was trying to deprive Pierre of the opportunity of fucking her.

That gave Zulime an idea. She tried to pivot a bit to create a better angle for herself, then swung her thick leg upwards right into Pierre's crotch. The Riverboat Queen wondered if the man was still hard, but she imagined that it was something that she would soon be able to find out. Zulime never pretended to be one of those faces who had to toe the company line in order to be popular, but she hoped that she wouldn't lose the crowd now. "Come on, suga, don't leave it just hangin' out there," Zulime taunted as she went for it.

But she was not going to leave it at that, not by a long shot. Not only would it be inefficient to do so, it would be unbearably unclassy. She would try to get her leg out from between Pierre's own, and clamp them around Pierre's head for a head scissor. It may have been more effective to bind Pierre's neck, but this one probably felt more intense. And that was precisely what Zulime was going for, even as she tussled Pierre's hair a bit just to screw with him.

Pierre could somehow hear the voice of his old high school wrestling coach when it came to the suplex. Was a hard, old bastard, but he was good at what he did. If he were watching this, then he would be lambasting the French-Canadian about his form with the suplex. Under his watchful eye, Pierre knew not to slack when around him. As a man that didn’t tolerate anything less than perfect, he pushed everyone in the team to be the best version of themselves, giving tools to help serve in the world outside of school. For a moment, the Quebecoise wondered what he’d be saying right now. Something about the way he was arching his back, probably: most techniques you don’t have a good idea if you’re doing it right without someone watching for you. And why does he think about form? If he gets the technique right, the suplex will deal the damage of its full potential. Coupled with his stronger structure, that is devastating for Pierre.

Despite the blood rushing towards his head, Pierre kept on with the attack to her pussy. He still held on the Louisainan’s breast, squeezing it as hard as he could to add pain to the pleasure combo. Not only that, but it aided him in his position. Having to place yourself like this isn’t easy, and it takes skill and strength to pull that off. Standing on his tiptoes, resting on the crown of his head, he wondered what was the point of that when he was first shown the exercise. However, the crowd was shown a massive treat, a brilliant display of skill that Zulime could never replicate, even if she tried. It felt good one-upping the Cajun cunt in her favourite department, being a better showperson. That’s not to say he cared about them; they’d cheer for whatever looks nice, regardless of whom. But taking away that support, that is more important, making Zulime such a fool that she will never recover from. If only she’d know of that pain. That burden. Pierre is about to open her eyes to that.

Zulime’s moans were beautiful to hear as well as her groans of pain, egging him on to go for the kill. He felt like toying with her, prolonging the torture, painfully and sexually before making her beg for release. That sounds good. The Quebecoise could do without the somewhat stiff member that is almost pointing straight at the air. The dumb cunt isn’t about to get out of this. Sure, the Riverboat Twat has gotten lucky earlier, but this is where it ran out for her. There was no way he could fuck up now-

“ARRGH!!” Yeah, about that…

Pierre didn’t know what hit him, but whatever it was, it was a damn hard shot right in the balls that he could do without. Of course, Zulime would no doubt go for the low hanging fruit, somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that was Zulime would like to do. However, the Quebecoise had no clue as to how she did it. If he’d look at the replay, then he’d see what a significant reversal the crafty bitch just did. Regardless, he was clutching his balls, curled up in the fetal position. That was a natural reaction when one is kicked in the gonads. Except that proved to be a fatal error.

With his hands occupied somewhere else, Zulime’s legs were free to wrap around his head. The moment he felt those muscles, which were quite robust unflexed, Pierre knew he was in deep shit. And deep shit indeed once the pressure mounted around his head, letting out a groan of pain loud enough for those at ringside to hear. No doubt his coach would be chastising him about that too, but fuck the old man, he needed to get out seconds ago. One hand left his aching nuts to grab at the tree-trunk like thigh crushing his head like a watermelon. But that was stupid to think that will be enough to pry them off. So the other hand came up, and his fingers dug in the supple, mahogany skin, pulling on them, but to no avail. Even if he can’t see Zulime, the French-Canadian expected her to be smiling right now. A big, wide, toothy smile. Just imagining that made him mad.

["Grrrrrn! Fuckin...bit-nnngggghhh!!"]

Zulime was acutely aware of the crowd's reaction. They didn't like heels, and people who went for other wrestlers' private parts. As much as she pretended not to, her ears were perked for any boos, any jeers, any negative reaction that they might have. For a second, her attention lapsed from the headscissor that she was clamping down on her opponent as she strained to listen as closely as she could. A few people did not like that at all, and let their displeasure be known. Most of the crowd, however, seemed to be enjoying the headscissor more than anything else. Zulime would take that for the time being. She would win all of them back through flashy moves and making Pierre cum, but that would come in time. For right now, she would just worry about making the most of the situation afoot.

The Cajun girl's temporary lack of focus meant that Pierre gained a little ground as he attempted to pry her legs apart. Zulime was sure that Pierre wanted to pull her legs apart in slightly more favorable circumstances, but she was fairly confident that he would take the opportunity to relieve pressure on his head at the moment. Raw power rippled through her strong thighs as she squeezed as hard as she could. The Riverboat Queen wanted to slowly squeeze the Quebecois man until he had nothing left, then she could just go and scoop up whatever remained. For a second, her brown eyes narrowed with concentration as she worked on redirecting all of the power that she had in her body towards crunching Pierre's head.

Then she looked up again. The crowd were all watching intently. Zulime bit her lip a bit, to let them now that this was sexual for her. When it came to affairs of the heart, she loved the give and take of it. Right now, she was taking great pleasure in the idea of this pompous asshole suffering as much as humanly possible between her strong thighs, and giving the hold everything that she had. Pierre was saying something, but the only thing that could hear it was Zulime's sex, which was not particularly inclined to listen. That gave her an idea. She smiled a toothy, affectionless grin as she eased up on the hold that little bit. She knew that it was precarious to give him that little bit of ground, but it would definitely be worth it in the end.

She was trying to get her sex as close to his face as she could, if not directly on it. This was a hentai match, and she had learned just how dangerous this was in her match with Li-Mei. But with the crowd's love on the line, she was willing to risk it just so she could embarrass the poor man by literally rubbing it in his face. "What's that, suga? I can't hear you. You said you wanted to get humiliated in front of ever' goddamn person in the whole country of Japan?" Zulime moved her hips as she did so to accentuate the movement. And she was fairly sure that Pierre got more than just a little of her accent.

How fickle of them.

For a brief moment, Pierre could hear the crowd, and his ears perked up as soon as he heard their reaction. Knowing them, they can be swayed easily like a delicate flower blown this way and that. They cheer for whatever looks cool. The French-Canadian was on the right track for it; what he was doing was stylish, unique, unlike anything the Kyoto masses haven’t seen before. That is what got most of them on his side as he worked on Zulime. It took a bit to maintain a position, one that takes up his strength to keep it up, but the rewards for his labour would be delicious to reap. Plus, it would take away what the Louisianan desired most, the crowd’s favour though there was something that surprised him, something that he didn’t expect to hear. Actual displeasure from Zulime’s actions. They don’t like people that go for the junk. Who knew?

Surprising to hear because of how the Cajun was operating throughout the match, but they shared the displeasure that the French-Canadian had. Sure, he did have quite the dirty attack, but he had the decency to clock her in the jaw. This, whist impressive that she managed to swing her leg even to do such a thing, is still a dirty move. And most weren’t happy about that. That probably took a hit to Zulime’s ego, and for a moment, it also causes him to pry away her near tree trunk thighs around his head. A lapse of concentration on the New Orleans native’s part. His balls were still hurting after the whole affair, but after finding himself between the thighs of Zulime, his escape is paramount. The Quebecoise cannot afford to stay down for long. And then, he could mount up a comeback of his own, using the crowd’s displeasure to his advantage and set this match on the right track.

Though before he could achieve the “pulling out his head” part of the plan, Zulime’s thighs suddenly came back with so much force that it had him grunting loudly, feeling the massive crushing pressure that caused his skull and the nerves around it to ache. Freedom was so close but so far. Zulime proved to be unrelenting with the headscissior, simply abandoning going slowly and just going all-in on crunching his head. The French-Canadian was thankful that he couldn’t hear the crowd, who no doubt already swayed to Zulime’s side. The only time he would was when she pulled his head closer to her sex. Yet not too close that he’d have a chance of teasing her sex at all. Enough so that the most powerful part of her inner thighs can still do damage while still able to rub it in, figuratively. “Fuck..gahhh…you…nnnghhhhh!!” He hated that so much, but the only offence that he could muster is some light taps with his fists that slowly had the power of a cat pawing at her thigh. Not much to do from there and he felt himself weakening.

Zulime was sweating. Her skin color was unique for where she was, and the lecherous looks of old men in bars told her that particular shade sent the heart into a tizzy. And given the looks she would send in return when she was feeling particularly mischievous, that particular tizzy occasionally proved to be fatal. Another thing she could do with potentially lethal consequences was to have a pretty little head between her strong thighs. After a brief lack of focus, the headscissor was now being applied tighter than ever. The Quebecois man was saying something, but the words died between her muscles.

The move was a good one, but it would not help her for one of the pits stops on the way to the ultimate victory. Pierre could hardly blossom if he were unconscious from the pain. She did, however, trust that she had done enough damage that Pierre would be nice and slow so that Zulime could carry through with her plan. It was high time to delve into the more amorous side of this match, she thought, but she wasn't going to just reach over and start yanking like some back alley slut who couldn't find a corner in the French Quarter. No, Zulime was going to do it with style, using all the tools she had available to her.

Zulime lowered her hand to Pierre's head. She wasn't applying that much pressure at first, just to feel for tremors unless Pierre had the funny idea of trying to stop Zulime's righteous fury. Once she felt comfortable, she would attempt to roll Pierre over so that his back was to the mat. From there, her motions had a quick and deliberate nature to them that evinced a little too much desire as she bent her knee. A sharp nail meant that it was easy to get a hole in her stocking. While it would be a tragedy in the world of fashion to rip your own stocking, she knew that the hole would serve a noble purpose.

The Riverboat Queen did not have a moment to spare. She triangled her legs over Pierre's throat just to make sure that the asshole did not have the capacity to properly respond to Zulime's twisted form of justice. Her other leg was headed south, until her foot reached Pierre's member. This time, the foot was not meeting Pierre's manhood in anger but with much more gentle goals in mind. Or at least, gentle in a physical sense. The intent behind it was to humiliate poor Pierre until he felt like quitting.

Zulime started working Pierre's member through the hole in her stocking. It was slow and sensual, and the Riverboat Queen wanted to let this one simmer. It didn't take as much for boys, and Zulime knew that. But the Cajun girl was going to stretch this out as long as she could. Although, the fact that Zulime was lying her breasts across Pierre's face as she worked Pierre might mean that it wouldn't linger too long...

Cursing himself for not being quick enough to slip out of the headscissor, the window for him to escape was shut. Just like her legs shutting into his skull. Brief as it was, her lack of complete focus to the task at hand was something the Quebecoise could have used. Though he still had the burden of things slowing him down, the pain around his balls being one of them. Pierre wasn’t in the most forgiving mood, and while he did clock her in the jaw, Zulime was the worst offender, in his mind. All to fulfil her need for self-righteousness that was dumb, to begin with. Such mendacious agenda will be her downfall, that much the French-Canadian promised. All she was doing is stacking up the judgement more and more so that indignation will hit her to the point of believing in karma.

Although he couldn’t voice such indignation, his face shows it. His words died out between the thigh muscles of the Louisianan. At the very least, they weren’t around his neck, so there was one positive. Otherwise, things would have gotten a whole lot worse than what it already is. Zulime didn’t relent, though that was to be expected so Pierre did what he can, though the simple task of prying her legs apart from his cranium was hard the more tired he was getting. And the Quebecoise is getting tired, both physically and mentally that he’d have to take this bullshit from this Cajun cunt. The French-Canadian’s struggles began to grow weaker and for a moment, figured he might go out. He wouldn’t put it past Zulime in doing that. Though all of a sudden, Pierre would feel the pressure lax around his head, unsure what Zulime wanted to do, it couldn’t be all that good.

Zulime’s hand lowered on his head, grunting all of a sudden as he felt his form turning around from his belly and now onto his back. He certainly didn’t miss the sight of her crotch being close but not close enough for him to do anything. His eyes looked up at the ceiling lights before a bent knee brought his focus to something lower, just about catching Zulime ripping a hole into her stocking. Bewildered, the addled Quebecoise looked on at what would be considered sacrilegious in the fashion world. He certainly wasn’t catching on as to what she had in mind, but the reasoning would be shown to him soon.

Just that he had to deal with Zulime’s legs starting to bring a bit of pressure in, he should probably stop speaking too soon; her leggy embrace caught his neck. It wasn’t like the sleeper hold that Zulime had; these were her legs, much stronger than her arms. Pierre’s hands gripped on them, having a brief bit of power in his grip…before something would immediately make it lax. It was a weird feeling, something that had him gasping, for different reasons, but as he looked down, he began to piece the puzzle. Zulime was working his semi-hardened member into a frenzy with her foot again, though there was a distinct difference than the last time. One foot would have the trouble of having his cock sway one way or another, without the other, it wouldn’t have the stability to work him up to the heights of pleasure, which is where the French-Canadian saw Zulime’s ingenious plan. She was using the hole of her stocking to trap the cock, like a hand gripping it for a handjob, keeping it trapped within the nylon prison. That brought many sensations, unlike never before. He got to feel her actual foot pumping at his member, slow and sensual, grunting and groaning at the touch. The friction of her natural sole while having the feeling of her stocking adding more to this experience than he could ever comprehend. Pierre didn’t get to see much, since her well-endowed breasts were resting all over his face, blinding him from such a sight though the French-Canadian would consider this a mercy to hide from the embarrassment.

Zulime loved being touched. When she found herself in the confines of a fine attractive youth or blessed enough to bring someone back on the riverboat, she would touch another's most intimate paarts and guide their hands should her lover lack the initiative onto her own chest or hips or rear. That was not quite the situation here, but there were a few important similarities. Namely, she deeply enjoyed someone touching her ample legs in the most intimate of acts. This was intimate to be sure but more borne of sententious hatred rather than mutual lust, and as such Pierre's hands on her thighs meant that the Quebecois man was trying to escape. Another similarity would be the fact that Zulime had a smile on her face. This smile would not be from how good a lover's touch was, but of the fact that she was working Pierre.

And she was working Pierre for all that she was worth. His manhood probably wouldn't be feeling the best given what Zulime had done just moments prior, and that fact meant that Zulime couldn't go through her usual routine. No, she was going to need to be a little bit careful, a little bit tender, a little bit light. But that would only be at first. Once she got Pierre going, she would really get him going. Zulime was a sensuous woman and the absolute mistress of her body. Most women would have not sufficed to the task of working a man's member with only their foot and a stocking, but Zulime more than rose to the occasion.

Her chest was rising softly over Pierre's face, and Zulime knew how much that added to the experience. The Riverboat Queen would attempt to add even more to the experience if Pierre enthusiastically partook in the role of the bottom when she grabbed at Pierre's hands and tried to pin them down to the mat. Zulime very much desired to be in control her. She probably would have been fine had she not done so, but the Cajun girl would feel a little bit better if she had that physical edge.

Which was to say nothing of the mental and emotional edge. Zulime knew that when she was feeling it, there were very few things that could divert her attention from the pleasure coursing through her body. The Riverboat Queen was betting that Pierre had similar such experiences, not because that would grant her more sway over Pierre's body, but because Pierre would be aware of the fact that Zulime was getting retribution for this hated man for grabbing at the same chest that was adorning the man's face in the form of totally controlling them through his member. There was a beautiful irony in the fact that this whole thing started because Pierre was thinking with his member, and that was the exact same thing that was causing all this humiliation right now. Zulime, a woman who had previously lived and died on the stage, found that twist of fate to be particularly amusing.

Now, this was different, Pierre could admit as such. So much so that he wasn't quite sure how to react to it all, the stupefied look on his face telling the crowd and probably Zulime everything. If he was playing poker, the French-Canadian was showing massive tells as to what cards he has in his hands. The noises that came out of his mouth told way too much even. However, this was mostly down to the method of it all, rather than it's intent. Despite its unique nature, this had a straightforward task: to humiliate be Pierre.

Somewhere in his pleasure hazed mind, Pierre questioned if Zulime concocted this unusual move before this match was made. He wouldn't have put it past the Louisianan if she did, all of this was made to get her revenge, unnecessary and wrong as it is. The unreasonable part of his brain would have betted as such. The reasonable and sane part of his mind would have said that wasn't entirely true, and there was more evidence proving as such. Zulime wouldn't know about this, even if she carefully planned it all, signs point that she merely stumbled onto his weakness as soon as her feet wrapped around his cock while choking him out. She was finding a crack in the dam that she could strike with impunity. This told the Quebecoise just how much Zulime was good at coming things up on the fly. Though that would merely be giving way too much credit, the Cajun certainly didn't strike him as a strategist.

That's not to say she was dumb, however. Zulime at least knew what to do, this unique variation of the footjob required Lazer-precision skill just for it to work. The pain around his balls brought a little bit of distraction for his brain to think about. That is before the pleasure part came back, and his attention was set on his throbbing member disappeared in his view. The French-Canadian saw that foot going up and down, slightly obstructed by Zulime's bulbous breasts. He wasn't quite sure about it, but seeing it in action made the whole thing worse. Men always were drawn by the visual aspect when it comes to sex and understanding the intricacies that made up such a move, his brain registered and noted down everything there was. So much that he didn't notice his hands left the thighs of Zulime, having been caught in her grasps and brought down to the mat. Pierre couldn't help but stare and moan. It was a unique feeling indeed, one side mostly wrapped in the cocoon of nylon, creating the friction that scrapped at the sensitive tip. His throbbing member could also feel the soft sole that rubbed on it, substantial that her foot could rub all over it, heel to toe. How much deft skill it took to balance and draw out so much pleasure from his cock. It kept pumping away, and his breaths were quick, his heart beating out of his chest, the French-Canadian's cock giving one last pulse on her foot before the inevitable came.

And it came more ways than one. Pierre exploded, a trail of hot white semen pumped out of his member. Not that it would have gotten far; however, the nylon jail kept most of the fantastic explosion at bay, wife as Zulime's stockings, one more grunt came out before his body relaxed afterwards. His cheeks flushed a rosy hue, but as much as he wanted to close his eyes, he couldn't stop staring at it, the magnificent mess he created. He slumped into Zulime's form, his cock twitching from the sheer pleasure of it all. All the while, the crowd gave a massive cheer as they got their first orgasm of the night.