Artistry [v. Jace O'Brien]
Jul 11, 2016 15:54:27 GMT
RSW Wrestling, Arianny DeLise, and 2 more like this
Post by Deleted on Jul 11, 2016 15:54:27 GMT
"Oh. My. Gawd. I can't believe that flabby bitch totally just fired me." There was no menace in Frederiks voice when he said it, but it was filled with an undeniable pout that made Dallas want to gouge his eyes, and the eyes of every small child on the planet, out. "Shut up, Frederik. I'm trying to concentrate." On the table before him was a torn out page from ADULT magazine which had a rather graphic image of one man plundering the another mans backside. Next to the magazine page were two pictures that had had the faces cut out. It was those faces that Dallas was methodically placing over those of the two men in the magazine. Naturally, the one bent over being railed now had the face of Jace O'Brien placed on it and the dominant "pitching" male, Dallas was gluing Frederiks face to.
"My opponent this week seems to have a fascination with wanting to teach me a lesson. What's his name again, Frederik?" His lover, and sisters hairdresser, didn't bother to look up from his phone. "Jace O'Brien. And MmmmmMmMMm he is a fine piece of man." Dallas nodded his head simply and leaned back in his own chair contently as the artistic masterpiece he had been working on was complete. "Right. Jace O'Brien. Big, strapping young lad. That's what people from England or wherever the hell he's from like to say. I bet he wants to bend me over your knee and give me a good spanking. You know, do what my Daddy never did. That's what people have been saying to Ari and I our entire lives. They're going to set us straight like mommy and daddy should have." He yawned loudly at that idea, running his hands down the front of the smooth dress slacks he was wearing.
"Our friend Jace is the one who needs the lesson. This isn't going to be my first professional match. It's going to be my fourth professional match and I've yet to be beaten. I beat Seth Daniels in a cage match and then went on to win the Deathcore Championship later that night against the best that Deathcore had to offer. What the fuck has Jacey-poo done in his lifetime?" Frederik, who had gotten up to see the finished project that his lover had been working on, was too busy paying attention to the graphic magazine page to respond to Dallas. "That's what I thought. He's done nothing to be acknowledged. He's just another straight man who wants to get his hands on some tight Dallas ass."
Swatting Frederik away from the images that had drawn his attention, Dallas stood from his chair and placed his hand on his chin in thought. "Here's what I want you to do, Frederik. I want you to text what I'm about to tell you to Jace O'Brien. Got it?" With a pout, Frederik nodded and retrieved his phone. "Start now. Dearest Jacey-poo. I know you're the product of a thousand years of inbreeding and poor dental hygiene but your favorite neighborhood Dallypool is here to help. I appreciate that you feel so enthusiastically about our upcoming match and your chances to win but I have bad news. It isn't going to happen. You see, while you might be stronger than I am and you might hit harder than I do, this is a WRESTLING match. Not a boxing match. Not a mixed martial arts match and when it comes down to it my technical skills are superior to yours in every facet imaginable." Dallas paused, looking at Frederik to make sure he was keeping up. After two excruciatingly long seconds of silence passed while Frederiks fingers moved at a blazing pace to type Dallas's words, he continued.
"I have the speed and the aerial skill to avoid those big, meaty paws of yours and once I get you down to the mat there's not going to be any getting up for you. Your strength will be of little use to you. All that will be left for you to do will be to wonder whether I'm going to make you tap, which I'm perfectly capable of doing and which you lack the ability to defend against, or whether i'm going to wear you down with the sort of in ring finesse not seen since Scott Lopez graced a wrestling ring." Once more Dallas looked to Frederik to make sure he had kept up.
"Love always, Dallas. Send it."
"My opponent this week seems to have a fascination with wanting to teach me a lesson. What's his name again, Frederik?" His lover, and sisters hairdresser, didn't bother to look up from his phone. "Jace O'Brien. And MmmmmMmMMm he is a fine piece of man." Dallas nodded his head simply and leaned back in his own chair contently as the artistic masterpiece he had been working on was complete. "Right. Jace O'Brien. Big, strapping young lad. That's what people from England or wherever the hell he's from like to say. I bet he wants to bend me over your knee and give me a good spanking. You know, do what my Daddy never did. That's what people have been saying to Ari and I our entire lives. They're going to set us straight like mommy and daddy should have." He yawned loudly at that idea, running his hands down the front of the smooth dress slacks he was wearing.
"Our friend Jace is the one who needs the lesson. This isn't going to be my first professional match. It's going to be my fourth professional match and I've yet to be beaten. I beat Seth Daniels in a cage match and then went on to win the Deathcore Championship later that night against the best that Deathcore had to offer. What the fuck has Jacey-poo done in his lifetime?" Frederik, who had gotten up to see the finished project that his lover had been working on, was too busy paying attention to the graphic magazine page to respond to Dallas. "That's what I thought. He's done nothing to be acknowledged. He's just another straight man who wants to get his hands on some tight Dallas ass."
Swatting Frederik away from the images that had drawn his attention, Dallas stood from his chair and placed his hand on his chin in thought. "Here's what I want you to do, Frederik. I want you to text what I'm about to tell you to Jace O'Brien. Got it?" With a pout, Frederik nodded and retrieved his phone. "Start now. Dearest Jacey-poo. I know you're the product of a thousand years of inbreeding and poor dental hygiene but your favorite neighborhood Dallypool is here to help. I appreciate that you feel so enthusiastically about our upcoming match and your chances to win but I have bad news. It isn't going to happen. You see, while you might be stronger than I am and you might hit harder than I do, this is a WRESTLING match. Not a boxing match. Not a mixed martial arts match and when it comes down to it my technical skills are superior to yours in every facet imaginable." Dallas paused, looking at Frederik to make sure he was keeping up. After two excruciatingly long seconds of silence passed while Frederiks fingers moved at a blazing pace to type Dallas's words, he continued.
"I have the speed and the aerial skill to avoid those big, meaty paws of yours and once I get you down to the mat there's not going to be any getting up for you. Your strength will be of little use to you. All that will be left for you to do will be to wonder whether I'm going to make you tap, which I'm perfectly capable of doing and which you lack the ability to defend against, or whether i'm going to wear you down with the sort of in ring finesse not seen since Scott Lopez graced a wrestling ring." Once more Dallas looked to Frederik to make sure he had kept up.
"Love always, Dallas. Send it."
