Liz Hurley vs. Reese Witherspoon by BenPhunk 13-Jul-2000
At the last minute, the CLAW Commission had saw in
their infinite wisdom to "give Reese some color." They
went for a classic- the good ol' schoolgirl. Reese found the short
red plaid skirt, tight low cut white sweater and leg wear that
she was to wear tonight in her dressing room. The powers that
be told her that the image was a perfect match for her- her cute
upturned looks- her perky personality- her technical ability-(Gil
had told her that "You can take your opponents to school!"
with a cheerful grin. "The fans would eat it up!")
Reese took all this in stride. She was one her way
to become a wrestling superstar, and if she had to dress up as
Reese "The Pedofile's Dream" Witherspoon along the way
to do it, well so be it. The important people remember when you
pay your dues. Besides, as of right now Reese knew she had a low
pain threshold. Sure she would hold out bravely for as long as
she could, but by the third throw, Reese usually started in with
the moaning, the groaning, and the writhing. She always found
the stick-to-it-tivness that had made her famous and stayed in
the match, but the audience and her opponent always knew she was
in pain. Reese had to admit that. So yes, she had to own up to
the whole cry baby connotations the outfit had. But a journey
of a thousand miles begins with one step.
Reese Witherspoon's patent leather shoe, white knee sock encased legs shifted nervously, padding the mat inside of CLAW's ring. This twitching ran up her legs, through her spine, and into her dainty hands, which were busy clutching the iron cable ropes. Every now and then, a tense tightly swathed white cotton butt cheek would peek out of her skirt. The only part of Reese's body that hadn't made the leap to battle mode was her sunny, self-assured, southern smile.
At the last minute, the CLAW Commission had saw in their infinite wisdom to "give Reese some color." They went for a classic- the good ol' schoolgirl. Reese found the short red plaid skirt, tight low cut white sweater and leg wear that she was to wear tonight in her dressing room. The powers that be told her that the image was a perfect match for her- her cute upturned looks- her perky personality- her technical ability-(Gil had told her that "You can take your opponents to school!" with a cheerful grin. "The fans would eat it up!")
Reese took all this in stride. She was one her way to become a wrestling superstar, and if she had to dress up as Reese "The Pedofile's Dream" Witherspoon along the way to do it, well so be it. The important people remember when you pay your dues. Besides, as of right now Reese knew she had a low pain threshold. Sure she would hold out bravely for as long as she could, but by the third throw, Reese usually started in with the moaning, the groaning, and the writhing. She always found the stick-to-it-tivness that had made her famous and stayed in the match, but the audience and her opponent always knew she was in pain. Reese had to admit that. So yes, she had to own up to the whole cry baby connotations the outfit had. But a journey of a thousand miles begins with one step.
And when the time came, and it was her turn to call the shots, she had a long list of people she would crush, a whole slew of humiliating things she would make them do. So for right now, she was a good sport about things, "a team player" if you will. She even played along, and got a little pink butterfly hair barrette that now crowned her left bang. The producers loved it! Then they told Reese the news. The much beloved butterfly flew down her throat, into her stomach, and multiplied twenty-five thousand times when she heard who she was facing tonight.
It would be Liz Hurley. Liz Hurley did... things to her opponents.
"God Save The Queen" by the Sex Pistols blasted across the arena. The entrance doors flew open, and three well muscled men in tan riding pants, black knee length boots and powdered wigs came marching out. Then the boos came, a proper fanfare for The Queen of The Ring herself. Her men stopped in a triangle down in the middle of the ramp. As Syd started crooning "No Future- No Future" Liz deigned it appropriate for the plebeians to feast their undeserving eyes on her heavenly figure and visage. If anyone could cut a figure and visage, it was Liz Hurley. She slowly strode down the ramp, head held high atop her magnificent alabaster neck, a sadistic sneer carved in her ruby lips, and her index finger aimed at Reese.
The Queen had chosen to adorn herself in a stunning white gown this evening, with a strip of gold taffeta running down the middle of the long skirt, a white bodice spangled with a tight rectangular pattern of metallic gold crowns, white opera gloves, a black leather choker with a mother of pearl in the center, and a tiara. As Syd got to the fourth reframe of his message of peace and hope, Liz stopped, placed her thumb against her throat and slashed it. Her men started to move, as did their liege. As the boos reached an almost thundering crescendo Liz lifted her arms, as if to say, "Is that all that you've got?"
As her men reached the apron, they split up. One perched himself atop the steps leading to the ring and extended his hand, which Liz took, ascending the steps. Her other man opened the ropes for her, while the last waited for her and the rest of the entourage in their corner. Once they had gotten there, he quickly removed her tiara, and went to work removing one glove, while the others removed the other glove and skirt, revealing Liz's wrestling outfit for the evening- the aforementioned bodice, gold silk panties, white garter, white silk stockings(with a single rose embroidered on top of each thigh,), and white ankle length boots with gold laces.
Reese eyed her opponent from across the ring. She gave up seven inches to Liz, but only about nine pounds. Her keenly analytic mind started to whir and click with activity. Almost immediately she leapt onto the turnbuckle and started to clap her hands turning to the audience. The chant of "U.S.A" was almost inevitable. Liz stopped her stretching and looked at the spectacle Reese was trying to create. Her smirk contracted into a scowl, her eyes rolled up, as her hands glided to her hips- "How droll." As the bell sounded, Reese felt proud that she had won the complex opening of this interrogate psychological chess game.
Reese hopped down, and immediately raised her hands, bouncing in a tight circular motion towards the center of the ring. She knew she had to stay out of Liz's reach, get the limy to chase her, get her to get winded, tired. She had to bait the Queen.
Liz observed the eagerness in Reese's eyes. The most visible response it produced was a non-chalant shrug of the shoulders. Liz's hands slip of her hips to her sides, and she floated out of the corner. The little schoolgirl that was supposed to give her a match tonight was skipping in the center of the ring, her index finger bending, as if to beckon Her Highness. The idea was laughable, but Liz was feeling generous tonight, and decided to indulge the little tike. She strolled to the center of the ring, and took a swipe.
"Ohmygod! I'm engaging the enemy!"
Reese was excited, as she jumped out of the way. Her stratagem was working. When she was training for CLAW, she got the best marks of her class in ring tactics. They told her she might make a better manager, but Reese had a dream, she was on quest if you will to be the best wrestler ever. She stuck her tongue out at Liz, at which Liz leapt at, Reese again dodging her opponent. Reese had lost her central position, but she knew that was all part of the cat and mouse game. Reese was a few feet away now, along the ropes, she turned and lifted her plaid pleated skirt and slapped her butt in Liz's general direction. It giggled slightly under the cotton panty. Liz lunged again with her arms extended. Just as she was about wrap them around Reese the youngster jumped out of the way, hitting the back of her head on the corner turnbuckle.
The stunned Reese looked around with a shocked look on her face. She then looked at the charging marble column that was charging her way. Reese let out a "yeep" before Liz's shoulders slammed into her stomach, which brought out a moan. Liz immediately straightened, and grabbed Reese's hair. Reese's moan turned into a squeak, her hands going to her scalp, her patent leather shoes flexing to her tippy toes to relive some of the pain. Liz smiled and said "Hello, little girl" before unleashing a mighty knife edge chop to her opponent's throat. This was but a brief prelude to the thunderous series of chops to the chest and throat the Queen rained upon Reese, eliciting moans and groans from her. At about fifteen blows, Reese slumped in the corner, having the ropes and the painful grip Liz had on her hair to hold her up. Liz just shook her head.
Suddenly Reese's hands flew up too Liz's eyes, and she poured everything she had into a viscous rake across the Queen's eyes. Liz's hands flew up to message the pain out and regain her sight. Reese immediately punted a patent leather toe right into her opponent's crotch.
One of Liz's hands flew down to message her groin, while the other feverishly kneaded her brow. Reese slid down and sat upon the middle turnbuckle. She desperately tried to ease the pain out of her chest and throat. This went on for a few seconds, then Reese stumbled out of the corner, and grabbed Liz's hair. Reese then started a jog, ending with a face slam in the center of the ring. Plan A only had marginal success, so the sexy schoolgirl went to Plan B. Reese then ran to the ropes, bounced to the other side, and launched a brutal guillotine leg drop across the back of Liz's head. Reese then grabbed the back of Liz's head lifted it, and placed her other underneath, closing the other over the head of her victim. As she poured on the pressure, Reese's already upturned skirt shimmied up her hips. Liz thrashed, about her legs kicking and jiggling against the mat, as the crowd roared their approval, her hands slapping her captors thighs. Suddenly, Liz stopped moving.
Finally, the smile that was on Reese's face went up to her eyes. She loosened her legs, knowing it was time to unleash all of the agonizing holds that would awe the crowd and debilitate the Mighty Queen Liz. It was time to show everyone who Reese Witherspoon really was.
Liz shifted her weight as quick as lightning. In a flash she was on her knees. Reese tightened her grip, throwing her back into the mat to compensate for lost leverage. Her eyes grew in terror as Liz snaked her hands around her soft looking thighs. Liz slowly stood up, holding the panicking Reese's legs. Liz released her hold and her victim vainly tried to turn this situation into a flying leg-scissors. Liz then shot her arms around Reese's waist and started to squeeze. As all the blood rushed to Reese's head, her air supply was completely cut off...After twenty seconds Reese went limp. She barely had enough energy to look into Liz's eyes and see the malicious intent that gleamed in them, and beg for mercy. Liz lifted the girl up and spiked her into the mat with a devastating powerbomb.
Reese bounced two feet in the air and flopped to the mat on her stomach, which led to two more bounces. Her predator looked down, and smiled on her handiwork. Liz bent down and lifted Reese's skirt over her ass, grabbing onto the waistbands of her panties, and pulled up. Slowly as the cotton chafed and then dug into her tender labia and ass, Reese started to let out sobs, which was accompanied by a mantra of, "No, no, no, no, nooooooooo!"
When the undergarment had no other place to go, Reese's body began to rise, and once again the perky overachiever was tattooed into the mat with a powerbomb.
"So, little snot, you wish to play roughhouse? Well, We are well schooled in that!"
Liz strolled over, grabbed Reese's hair, and pulled all of her dead weight up. She tucked Reese's head under her arm, gripped the waistband of the briefs that was now the size and fit of an undersized thong, and delivered a suplex. Her opponent's offensive response was to rub her lower back, and weakly kick the mat. As effective as that might have been, those moves rarely won matches, and Liz was went right back to work.
She flipped Reese onto her back, grabbed her throat with one hand, and her crotch with the other and started to squeeze. Reese was to weak to do anything but cry. Liz's only response was to lift her into the air and powerslam. As Reese settled onto the mat, Liz grabbed Reese in the same way again, and ran across the ring.
Instead of power slamming Reese again, Liz decided to just slam her destroyed back into the opposite ring post. With Reese's legs draped over the top rope, Liz bent down, grabbed her head, and placed Reese into her gold clad crotch, clamping her legs around the poor girls head. Liz let the wave of boos unleashed by the crowd wash over her. She loved the hate. She then stared jabbing her victim in the stomach. Reese's warm, moist breath blew through the thin silk that was covering it, it was moments like these that Liz knew why she loved wrestling for CLAW.
Liz decided to dedicate her next move to the organization, throwing a stomach claw on her. Short grunts became a long muffled moan, and by the smell of it, Liz liked the change. But soon that subsided, as Reese went into a smother induced wonderland. Liz released her claw, and replaced it with a double ax handle into the breadbasket, at the same time releasing her legs sending Reese crashing to the ground.
Liz paraded around the ring. Her crotch was obviously soaked, and she didn't care who knew. Reese was motionless on the mat. Liz strolled over and stomped her in the stomach, opening Reese's eyes and getting another squeal.
"Wakey, wakey, bitch."
Liz then backed off and started yell "Get up peasant! Get up!" She then turned to her footmen, and snapped "Dues Ex Machnia, boys," at which they mad a hasty exit.
Reese rolled into a fetal position, and then to her knees where she rocked back and forth for a while. She then get to her wobbly feet and braced herself for an attack. But Liz just stood in the center of the ring, and motioned for her to come and get her. Reese took the time to delicately pull her panties out of her privates.
"I... can't...believe... it. She's...she's just gonna... st...stand... there and let a dangerous competitor like me...recover? I'm a rookie, and I know I wouldn't do that. And she's been making a fool of me all night!"
At that all rational thought escaped Reese's head, and she charged out of the corner, and right into Liz's knee.
Liz smiled again, as Reese crumbled.
The Malevolent Monarch coiled Reese's blonde locks around her hand. Then Liz felt a sharp jab in her stomach, and another, and another. Liz was reeling, and clutched her tummy. Reese, although not fully recovered from the beating she received, quickly jumped to her feet and landed a dropkick, square on Liz's nose, toppling the Estee Lauder model to the ground.
Reese then ran to the ropes bounced off darting to the other set. By the time she got there, Liz had gotten to her feet. Reese flung herself into the air, only to be caught by Liz, and placed in a spine crushing tilt-a-whirl backbreaker. She then plucked the nearly broken Reese off her knee and set her up for an atomic drop that almost split the poor girl from Tennessee in half. By this time, Liz's men can back to the ring, with a large wooden crane, with a hook on one end.
Liz had not relinquished her grip around Reese's waist. She lifted her up, and draped Reese across her shoulders. It was over, Reese was in the Tower of London, and immediately snapped back into life, screaming her submission.
Liz was having too much fun to stop though, and instead started to torment her victim by bouncing her up and down, and pouring on the pressure. Finally Reese passed out. Liz gently placed listless Reese in the center of the ring. She then stripped Reese down to her knee socks and patent leather shoes, and bound the woman's arms with her own underwear. Liz pulled down her own panties, and squatted on the schoolgirls face, and started to grind, first slowly in grand sweeping motions, which degenerated into rapid succession of staccato like jerks, until she finally straightened and shuddered.
Satisfied, she called to her footmen, "Gloves!"
which where quickly handed to her. Liz started to rub one of her satin encased hands over Reese's left nipple, as she gently stroked Reese's pussy with the other. Reese started writhe on the mat with pleasure, and as she grinded her hips more and frequently, Liz probed deeper and deeper. Suddenly Liz stopped and licked the glove that had been massaging Reese's cunnie.
"Flags!" she barked.
She was handed two small American flags. She jammed one into Reese's sopping wet snatch, flipped her over and shoved the other up her ass. Liz then ordered the men to lower the crane, grabbing the hook and Reese's hair, which she tied onto the apparatus.
She then snapped, "Microphone!"
"Bring her up boys!"
Reese started to ascend - being hauled up by the crane, with the help of her own hair. Liz cleared her throat, and started to sing "America the Beautiful" by Irving Berlin. It was at this point, the CLAW producers decided to fade to black.