Unmasked

Pontificating posh prattle was indeed a refined talent of Gwendolyn's that made the regal socialite an absolute delight to converse with at fanciful soiree's amongst fellow blue-blooded capitalists. Often to the backdrop of champagne glasses clinking together, violinist's swishing their bows upon their stringed instruments to produce an opulent melody with nasally or high-pitched guffaws to signify the merry mirthment had by all amongst the regal elite. Eloquently loquacious though Gwendolyn prided herself on being however, even she occasionally adhered to the age old adage of actions speaking larger than words. And what more declarative statement could be imparted better than with Julia being out-wrestled and undone in a manner where she only has the gap in their grappling skill to place her blame upon after becoming demoralized and humbled within this squared circle.

So thoroughly wrenched on was Gwendolyn's stifling side-headlock and with how much squeezing labor the heiress had brought to its application that her impending counter-manuever was applied with effortless fluidity and an impact that brought a quivering waver to the ring ropes. Gwendolyn spinning about until she was perched atop her knees besides the languishing cowgirl, taking a fashionable second to primp up her golden ringlets which she feared may have become somewhat rumpled from flowing freely in the wind due to the running bulldog. The heiress taking little other time to begin seating herself upon the middle of Julia's spine before hooking the cowgirl's arms over Gwen's outstretched legs. A few beautifying seconds being spent to part Julia's blonde hair from her masked face to some dainty humming on Gwen's part before applying a sleeperhold camel clutch upon the wrangled cow-girl.

Julia had been hit with a bulldog plenty of times before, probably more than she could even count. And she’d hit plenty of opponents with them too. It wasn’t a move associated with humiliation, but this particular one had definitely been embarrassing to take. Julia had made the challenge for this spar, and now not even a minute into it Gwen had already outsmarted her and slammed her face into the mat. Just thinking about it made Julia curse under her breath, though her thoughts were about to be derailed by something much worse.

She felt Gwen’s backside come down on her spine, and her arms were pulled over the heiress’s thighs. Immediately she knew what was coming, or so she thought. But instead of the camel clutch she anticipated, Gwen began to play around with her hair. “Would you sto--NGH!!” her protest was silenced when the hold was finally applied, one perhaps even more dangerous than what she had expected. Julia had seen plenty of wrestlers submit in this very hold, and immediately understood why. The ropes were far out of reach, and crawling toward them felt impossible in this position. The masked blonde squirmed in an attempt to do so, but didn’t feel like she was making any progress. Strained, choked noises squeezed out through Julia’s lips while she grimaced and writhed in agony and frustration within her enemy’s clutches.

Gwendolyn certainly hoped that Julia indeed appreciated the lengths her aristocratic adversary went through to secure not only the utmost in affluent accommodations for two professionals such as themselves, but as serene a setting attainable where the two compatriots could indulge in the peaceable privacy of her humble abode. Naught but their extensive in-ring acumen being utilized in ultimately determining whom was the superior grappler between the pairing, and henceforth made it all the more satisfying once the snobbish socialite immediately started out-wrestling the golden-haired cowgirl with all of the graceful flair and regal sophistication of a true thoroughbred member of the one percent. A pattern that Gwendolyn was assured would continue throughout the night.

Preparations taking place to prettify the cowgirl by parting her stray locks from her line of sight so she may look her most ravishing in the accompanying sleeperhold clutch in the heiress' dainty clutches. Gwendolyn centering her royal backside whenever Julia's wriggling flounders started making any headway whatsoever, a posh smile brightening up her visage from imagining how distraught Julia must feel being in such a dire predicament this early into their match."...*giggle*...Apparently you struggle to best me whether I express my verbose vernacular or not. Care to humbly admit your inferiority now? You always have seem prone to becoming an adorable and accommodating throne for myself, haven't you?...Yes, you have~..." Gwendolyn mused while proceeding to cup Julia's chin with one hand and mush her cheeks into a babyish and terribly embarrassing kissy face, before reapplying the sleeper and impishly swaying somewhat in the clutch.

Naturally, no wrestler wants to find themselves trapped in a hold that seems inescapable, but the degree of truth to that varies slightly depending on style. For example, someone with a black belt Brazilian Jiu Jitsu might at least have more confidence in their ability to eventually work their way out of this. While Julia was a well-trained grappler, it was no secret came through her speed and acrobatics. But she could neither run nor fly with Gwen sitting on her and strangling her like this. Even worse, she lacked the necessary leverage to shift them toward the ropes, or the required mobility in her arms to interfere with the hold.

Mercifully - and god how it pained her to think of it that way - the sleeper hold was relaxed, enough that Julia was able to start taking in small gasping breaths, but still held her in place while Gwen began to further humiliate her. Brushing her hair aside was only a small annoyance. But the taunting, and the way the heiress forced her to make awkward faces by playing with her cheeks caused her to blush red with both anger and embarrassment. “Get…off!” was all she managed to croak out, while her boots repeatedly kicked against the mat in frustrated protest.

Heaven forbid Gwendolyn misremember or somehow fail to recollect the specific stratagems that performed flawlessly in regards to debilitating and incapacitating the masked luchadora. The checkered and prolonged match history between them had all but ensured that Gwen would become keenly familiar with Julia's flamboyant penchant for high-flying theatricality with swift footed reversals as an irksome accompaniment. Hence why the heiress centered her offensive tactics on getting dearest Julia wrestled down to the canvas with every brilliant intention of grounding any and all potential flightplans the soaring cowgirl may have intended for tonight. Instead, one delightfully stifling submission is what Gwen has mapped out for the anchored cowgirl.

"Point thoroughly proven~..." Gwendolyn primly vocalized as she continued riding the defiance out of Julia in the throttling camel clutch mixed in with puckered facials that were as utterly humiliating for Jules to make as they were sadistically adorable for Gwen to appreciate. Although further uncharacteristic mercy would be shown by the heiress acquiescing to her adversary's demand. Gwen undoing the submission and unhooking Julia's arms from atop her legs with a few posh flicks of her wrist, but afterwards swiveling them both over with herself seated and Julia splayed out on her back...except with a Figure-Four Headscissors applied and taut squeeze of her thighs as Gwen balanced herself on her arms. "Well, I'm off now~...still, one demand after another...*tsk*tsk*...Why you've no proper etiquette at all, it seems~..."