Krystyna Afineevsky vs. Moon Sin-Jae - Bait and Switch

Sin was not in a happy place at the moment, for several reasons. There was the obvious ones, like how this match was the whole opposite of what she’d planned to do with her day, then there were the more subtle things, like how little she cared for losing in the first place, even when it was for a valid reason - like, say, being put in a match type against a guy who had a fuckton more experience with it than she did. It was a combination of factors that came together to make this whole thing her own personal hell, but she took some comfort in knowing it couldn’t get much worse, at least. This had to be the bottom.

She was wrong about that. So fucking wrong.

She learned how wrong she was in about the worst way possible.

At first, she thought it was an accident. That wouldn’t have made her happy, no, but it wouldn’t have pissed her off quite as much. He was all over her, crashing down with his bulky form, and hey, accidents could happen. But then she realized that his finger wasn’t just sliding between her cheeks...it was staying there. And exploring. And going deep. Way, way, way too fucking deep.

”The fuck?! What the fuck!” Sin went into a spastic fit, thrashing and squirming underneath Yusuf, desperate to escape before this got even more mortifying. ”Get the fuck out of me you goddamn psycho!”

It's needless to say that being slathered up in slicked oil, especially of such renowned vintage and stellar quality that Yosuf stakes his distinguished reputation behind, inherently encumbers all attempts at grasping a firm grip on an adversary. An untrained çırak (apprentice) grapplng against a veteran oil wrestler would typically be left with greased arms and a vacant look of surprise whenever he tried to apply a firm clutch onto his opponent only to have them slide free with slippery ease. So one core facet of oil wrestling is learning all of the proper techniques when it comes to properly grasping an opponent...unconventional though they might be.

*Kolay gelsin...Seems this one may have too much fire in her belly...* Yosuf ruminated on before splashing down his greased muscle mass atop her to hopefully cease her thrashing and make her more complacent, fingered insertion into her oil glistened rump still firmly in hand. The Oil Check doing it's job of aiding him in attaining a grip that inhibited her hip movements, but perhaps made this a far more intrusive and intimate experience than she appreciated. Once Sin eventually did settle down one iota, the Greased Lion would continue forward with his initial plan of attack by standing back up and sending the captured spider flying backward for a splash-down several feet away.

Sin was going to kill someone. Granted, she was of a mind to do grievous bodily harm on all who came across her path, but this was a new high, even by her lofty standards. She’d been pissed at this guy before, but now that he’d gotten a fucking finger inside her? Bloody, seeting, all-encapsulating rage was flowing through her veins. She had every desire to put Yusef’s face on a milk carton.

In a way, it kind of helped. As much as she hated being in this ring, in this room, the urge to have her revenge was enough to settle her for the time being. It gave her some focus, something she would sorely need in the coming moments, as her opponent used his vile grip to lift her up and send her flying. It didn’t make for the most graceful landing, but she rolled once, twice, then kicked her legs and stopped with her chest against the mat. She planted her feet on the floor while her arms came to the side, palms flat on the slick oil.

Sin came to a rest with one knee up and her arms holding her up, steady and still in a crouch. It wasn’t the best position, but it was stable, and it would give her some freedom to move when Yusef came her way next.

Yosuf had to say that for all of Sin's rambunctious rebelliousness and spitfire obscenities, the pointy-haired competitor was acclimating to his venerated tradition quite well. Not everyone could adjust themselves to grappling in such slippery conditions quite so adeptly, and if he could say, quite so ferociously as her. The Oil Baron would scarcely be surprised if Sin became inundated with oil wrestling requests from other competitors or scheduled to these types of matches more often by the higher-up's within the organization. And against not just women, but men twice his size, strength, and oil slathered enthusiasm.

He knew that such a future was sure to excite Sin at the prospect of further matches such as these, but for now what truly impressed Yosuf was the remarkable distance his spidery adversary garnered with his burly pitch. Afterward he hauled himself up with a hardy exhale as he tugged up on his massive leather belt to readjust it. Afterward he began to approach her once more, but he made care to steer clear of those wily legs of hers as made his striding waltz towards the front half of her grease slathered frame. And if uninterrupted would attempt to ensnare her in a front headlock as he laid himself down as well, flexing his biceps with a hefty groan if applied.

Hard as it was, Sin was starting to come to grips with movement under these conditions. There really wasn’t anything she couldn’t do on a surface like this, nothing holding her back from the usual moveset. It was more a matter of learning to compensate for the oil, take that into account with every step she took. Her training gave her a level of balance most fighters couldn’t dream of, the sort of poise she needed for her best kicks.

She would need a little more time to perfect it, but she could do it. And when she did, she was going to kick Yosuf’s face so hard that his teeth would come out the back of his head.

For now, though, she was adjusting, and didn’t have the time move out of the way as he came striding towards her and reached out to snag her head. Caught, tight, she was snatched and brought to the mat, pinned under the red oaf’s bulk.

But that didn’t mean she was out of options. With the oil slipping everything up, she was able to twist around in his grasp, slithering beneath, turning around until she was on her side. Like that, she was in a good position to extend her legs up and out, trying to capture his head in a scissorhold and clamp down, looking to choke him right the fuck out.

Of course, this would put her face way closer to his armpit than she ever wanted to be. Sacrifices.

Exactly how Sin instinctively adapted to grappling within circumstances other competitors would fund untenable, the Turkish Champion found himself learning on the fly in regards to squaring off with someone with legs as lethal as hers. For now that meant adjusting his approach to keep as best a distance as possible from those striking appendages while keeping his oil slathered pressure on. It filled his burly heart with tremendous glee knowing that even at his ripe old age and venerated wrestling career that he was still learning something new every time he locked up with his adversary's to this day, and this wrestling federation seemed to be overflowing with challengers trained in fighting styles from all over the world~...

But the thrill of experiencing all of these diverse techniques, all the while introducing his own grease slicked style, would have to wait though as he maintained focus on bringing to bear his brawny strength on Sin's muffled cranium with a mighty grunt on his part. Yosuf situated on his knees throughout the exchange that brought with it uncomfortable familiarity with the pit underneath the crook of his arm, except Sin unexpectedly reacted by flinging herself backward until she'd locked in the headscissors from out of nowhere. One applied with constricting torque and now his own uncomfortable familiarity with Sin's bikini'ed muff for an unlikely juxtaposition as both grease slathered grapplers stubbornly sustained their holds as Yosuf heaved and used his free hand to pat at Sin's backside.

Oh, and his face was way closer to her pussy than she wanted to think about. That was an issue, too, especially considering the rather short but unpleasant history Yusef had with her most private of parts. But if it brought this match to a close, fuck it, she could handle that. For a little while, anyway.

She breathed deep, soldiered through it, and powered down on the hold, wrenching his head from side to side as she brought out her full power. Legs that could knock a man clean out weren’t bad when it came to other things. Things like squeezing, crushing, breaking. She’d mashed a watermelon to pieces once, just to see if she could, and she was willing to bet she could get some similar effects out of Yosuf’s coconut.

He wasn’t going easy, she’d give him credit for that much, but he was going to go all the same. The tapping on her backside confused her at first - for a moment, she thought it might’ve been a tapout. But he wasn’t letting go of the hold, which meant she wasn’t, either. Instead, she redoubled her efforts and powered down harder than before, gritting her teeth as she gave him her full power.

Go to sleep, you big, stupid bastard.

Yosuf perhaps should have known better than to assume that merely adjusting his approach would ensure his safety against those lethal extremities of hers. Where there was a will, there was a way...and Sin had long since demonstrated a fighters willpower if he had ever seen one. Except that now all he could see was his spidery adversaries mound that was inches from his face as what felt like steel beams started cranking down on his noggin with unrelenting torque. Yosuf's tapping on her glistened backside was more of an immediate reaction for some semblance of relief than anything else, thankfully not mistaken for him submitting.

The Oil Baron grimaced and panted heftily betwixt the thighs causing him such anguish, for a split second wondering if Sin was exhibiting signs of anger or discontentment with this gloriously greasy outing of theirs. But nooooo, she was merely brimming with enthusiasm from grappling with someone she held in such high esteem. But now was the time for action, not hesitance. Yosuf did briefly begin to lurch over and seemingly succumb to the headscissors, but in one heroic effort the oil titan hauled up both of their grease drenched bodies up to his feet, where he'd attempt to topple over in an impromptu body slamming upon Sin. Hopefully earning him some freedom from the headscissors so he could flop beside her in exhaustion.

Yosuf was tough, Sin had to give him that. A big, red goofball, sure, but tough. Most guys would’ve been knocked clean out of commission by now, but somehow, despite her bringing all the power her body could muster he kept holding on. It would’ve been admirable if the guy wasn’t such a huge pain in the ass.

But he was. He really was. And the longer this went on, the more Sin’s patience began to wane, as she gritted her teeth and ground away at his skull. ”Will you just go to sleep-”

For a second, a golden second, it looked like he was actually going to fade, as he fell to the side, looking weak, the life going out of him...but then all at once he was back, surging, exploding with extreme strength. Sin cried out, shocked, as he came around and lifted her up, hauled her with frightening ease. She knew what was about to happen, sure, but she was in no place to stop it. She could only for the deafening, painful, inevitable…

...crash. She came down hard with him on top, shaking the room on the impact and leaving her to flop away. She rolled three times, before coming to a rest on her back, hissing and groaning and writhing on the ground. She winced hard and started to get up, but it was a slow process all the way.

Turkish pride and a rippling musculature honed to oil slathered perfection were what The Oil Baron called upon in order to not fall prey to his adversary's torqued entrapment. The view of Sin's grease slicked muff was perhaps an enticing yet fleeting sight to the rest of her foe's seconds before they drifted into their defeat-laden slumber, but Yosuf knew that succumbing so effortlessly meant tarnishing the exalted honor that came along with having reached the pinnacle of his profession. His summoned strength coming just as much from his emboldened spirit as his bulging muscles in a critical counter that would have any Turkish man swelling up with national pride.

"Ooofah!!!...*pant*...What a...glorious battle..." Yosuf breathed out upon uncoiling to a splayed out slump, bristling pecs expanding with every panting breath taken before he started twisting over to his side. Witnessing his spidery foe begin her own fatigued ascension except with a dazed stagger the oil champion did not share. Taking off in a ducked low sprint at the beginning, Yosuf immediately launched himself to improbably begin sliding upon his chiseled abdomen with arms extended outward as if he were on his way to first base. Fully intending on sweeping Sin off her feet in the most literal of definitions before bounding up himself for a squashed belly flopping compress beneath his greased-up mass.