Trent Masters vs. Gwendolyn DuPont Bettencourt

Respect is something that is definitely earned in the wrestling business and while the Masterpiece did respect Gwendolyn's ability and her accomplishments in the wrestling business, he was not going to show her too much respect so as to allow her to shine over himself in this competition. In competition, things get to get a bit heated as was the case here as Trent would would declare that his legacy would trump the noblewoman of AFW's while he yanked her hair to pull her up to a seated position.

From there, he trapped her in a body scissor and sleeper hold before taking her down to the side and began to squeeze the life out of her using both his legs and arms. His grip tightened around her, their oiled frames pressed against each other while Trent would focus in doing his best to constrict her. His demand of either tapping or napping was met with silence, apart from the grunting of her struggling but her arm was raised up high to show that she was not going to do either.

"Nrgh! I said....submit!" he once again said, emphasizing his point of submission with a hard jerk and squeeze until her elbow struck against his abdomen once, then again and again. Each blow served to weaken his grip until the several strikes loosened both of his submission holds considerably!

Envious though other lovelorn damsels may have been upon witnessing Gwendolyn become swathed within Trent's masterfully strengthened embrace whilst settled on their side as if spooning underneath silken bedsheets, the Snobbish Blueblood nevertheless sought only to liberate herself from the exhausting strain of the brawn torqued maneuver. Perfectly applied as befitting Trent's moniker with Gwendolyn being whittled down within her adversary's grease slathered warmth and seemingly anchored down to the canvas. A rose-colored blush once ascertaining what was the swell of his package against her own royal curvature, a fitting impetus if any to concede that these desperate times indeed required desperate measures.

One spiked elbow strike swiftly followed by another until the heiress garnered enough leeway to attain freedom via squirming to a splayed-out splat with about foot of space between them. Gwendolyn's heaving bosom matching her breathing rate but summoning the willpower to again ascend back up to her feet and approaching the Masterpiece from behind. A tightened waistlock bearing down upon him from behind with fulsome breasts mushed against his broad back and inner thighs hugging his hips. "I considered...*pant*...a third option..." Oil-slathered closeness upended by the empowered aristocrat gnashing her teeth and attempting a release German Suplex upon her masterful foe onto the back of his head and shoulders.

With the first fall having already been picked up by Gwendolyn, the Masterpiece had to make sure this second fall had to be his no matter what. With that in mind, he had amped up his efforts in subduing the noble blueblood and the suffocating submission move was evidence of those efforts. He was effectively spooning his opponent in trying to squeeze the life out of her while she was struggling in the sleeper and scissor hold and at the same time trying to suppress any feelings of pleasure he may have bee experiencing thanks to the proximity.

No doubt it would have been the same for Gwen, who eventually managed to break free from the submission thanks to a couple of well timed elbow strikes. With Trent reeling from the pain and slow to get back up to his feet, he was caught by the blonde in a waistlock which seamlessly transitioned into a German suplex. His eyes went wide when he was lifted up off the mat and slammed down onto the back of his head and shoulders, being left sprawled out on his back while moaning in pain and clutching the back of head.

The crowd cheered on despite their urge not to cheer for the snobbish blueblood which was a testament of the skill in landing that move despite the oiled conditions.

Adulation from these uncivilized commoners was scarcely suitable accolades for the feats of strength, grace, and fortitude the Spoiled Socialite was demonstrating at this current moment. Gwen hefting The Masterpiece's sculpted physique skyward with naught but slippery surfaces underfoot and only recently being given the merciful freedom to breathe unencumbered by Trent's flexed musculature in the stifling sleeperhold. Quite frankly statues should be erected in the blueblood's honor for bestowing the peasantry with such an exemplary wrestling showcasing. Gwendolyn's regal endurance was tested moreso considering whatever greased friction shared between them in such sweltering skin contact had invited scandalous thoughts and envisionings.

Ones which the heiress attempted to bury as swiftly as possible in order to uncloud her hazed over mindset and undo the rose coloring to her cheeks. "...*pant*...*pant*..." Gwendolyn spreadeagled below the suplexed Masterpiece as she labored to reclaim a steadied breathing pattern, heaving bosom undulating with each inhalation until willing herself to topple over onto her front side. Scrunching her posh facials all throughout as she continued in crawling over towards the languishing faction leader whose chiseled midsection Gwendolyn would struggle flip Trent over onto his abdomen. Gwendolyn snugly wrapping her smooth thighs around his head while balancing herself on her side elbow. The greased aristocrat applying her Royal Oppression finisher by tugging back on her ankle for further squeezing pressure.

The explosive German suplex was certainly a catalyst for the tide of this wrestling match to once again swing in the favour of the noble blueblood aristocrat. Many in this wrestling federation had considered Gwendolyn's success to be tied with her infinite resources and her cunning but a few failed to realize her actual in-ring ability, which was far superior to your average AFW wrestler.

Planting the Masterpiece down onto his back, the leader of the Dominion laid flat on his back and clutched the back of his head in pain. This allowed for Gwen to capitalize which would be the beginning of the end of this skirmish. She crawled towards Trent, pushing him over onto his abdomen before wrapping her thighs around his head while shifting herself on her side elbow.

Not done yet, she would grab her ankle and tug back on it, trapping him into one of her finishing submission moves to choke him out. His upper body would be elevated off the mat, arching upwards he would struggle to get a good view of his surrounds to try and struggle. His body slipping against the mats as he squirmed about, gasping for breath as Gwendolyn's grip was vice tight.

The Masterpiece's vision was starting to get blurry, which is exactly the time he realized that Gwendolyn had surely cemented her place in this faction as being on the top. There was no more denying that fact anymore, she had out-wrestled him fair ands square.

After a few more moments of struggling, he would begin tapping at her thighs to signal his submission and with that came the end of the match, Gwendolyn defeating her opponent decisively in a two-nil victory.

Understandably fatigued though the greased Masterpiece was, Gwendolyn estimated herself to share equally in the gentleman's exhaustion with only a timely adrenaline surge circumventing her labored weariness. Flawless execution throughout her German Suplex alongside witnessing the unforeseen strength at the petite heiress' disposal having brought a swelled rise out of the audience who were anticipating Trent to naturally secure a win in his favor. Gwendolyn evidently circumvented expectations when instead she ended up securing her elevated figure four headscissors which Trent was fittingly subjugated within. Astonishment abounded when the faction leader admitted to being conquered by her sublime thighs that he submissively tapped out upon, the referee signaling for the bell and match's dominant conclusion.

The exhausted heiress flopping down with her golden curls splayed out around her head, fatigued breathes taken through a brimming smile as she remained inert and stationary for several prolonged seconds until finally shuffling upward at a beleaguered pace. She came to a stop while straddling the conquered faction leader with her royal derriere perched atop his broad back, the referee raising her hand victoriously with smug absolution etched on her conceited facials. Slathered in shared grease, perspiration and the humid musk of her gentleman adversary, but of utmost importance, cloaked in supreme victory. Another etched addition to her tapestry of accomplishments that secure the regal aristocrat as one of the more accomplished, proficient, talented, if simultaneously loathed virtuoso wrestlers of this generation...and now newfound member within Dominion.