Trial By Ordeal

$39

On Sale

было ~~$50~~ Save 22%

Lowest price in 30 days before discount: $50

In stock

Save this product for later

Trial By Ordeal

Product Details

Бренд: Sexy killers

Уникальный код: W-731

Mixed fighting freestyle, catfighting, 500 pictures 1920x1080 (Full HD), no nudity, no blood.

“It was rumoured that [Natasa] worked for the secret services, and that she used her ring fights as training.”

So reads a sentence in a previous document about this mysterious woman, under the category of Gallery 626. No doubt, in years to come, more will be discovered and disclosed about this remarkable lady. For the present, we will just have to go with what we know: that she was a professional, lethal, fighter; and that she appeared to work for shadowy organisations that were rumoured to be fronts for Governments.

The present footage of her in action is the most bizarre yet. She appears to have had a contract to take on three murderers individually (including, unusually, a woman) for some state which had the death penalty, and a medieval trial by ordeal ritual. Just as they used to submerge a woman in water and declare her a witch if she survived, and innocent if she drowned, so these murderers would be pardoned and freed if they could beat her, or sent to hell if she beat (and killed) them.

It was agreed that the first murderer, known as “Prisoner A”, could fight with a knife. He was twice Natasa’s age, and had been locked up for a year, so he was not in very good shape. Natasa stood in the ring, hands on hips, as Security took the man into the “gym”. She watched calmly as he climbed through the ropes, and then menaced her with the knife. Seeing how unimpressed she looked, he took a furious swipe at her with it. She leant sideways and it “swished” past her head, briefly ruffling her hair.

Frustrated, A lunged at her with his left fist; but she was already down on one knee, batting it away. A quick drop down to the mat, using an arm for support, and a sudden flick of black, shiny boots through his legs, brought him down on this back, and she was kneeling over him. Natasa seized his right wrist (holding the knife) in her left hand, and clenched her right fist. It pounded into his left jaw, stunning him; she whisked him over onto his front, grabbed his right wrist again, and sat over him.

All she now had to do was to drag that right arm behind him, locking it, and prize his fingers apart with her free hand. After a brief resistance, the knife dropped to the mat. But Natasa didn’t relinquish the hold. No, she exploited her entrapment of his arm, and bent his wrist this way and that, eliciting yells of pain from him, meanwhile kneeling on his neck.

Eventually she let go, walked over to where the knife was, and picked it up. She watched A slowly rise, muttering and cursing. Showing her trademark coolness, she casually tossed the knife over to him, inviting him to pick it up. He seized it eagerly, and charged at her with it. In a slight variation, this time she leant back out of the way of it. It missed her face by about 6 inches.

A almost dropped the knife a second time as one elegant, stylish, black boot slapped into his balls. Sickening pain throbbed from his genitals to his stomach and beyond. He crouched helplessly, and Natasa banged her elbow down hard on his neck. He slumped to one knee, and she once again grabbed his right hand and wrenched the fingers open, for the knife to drop a second time.

“Go on then,” she invited him, “pick it up.”

He reached – and roared with pain. She still had a hold of his right arm, which she now twisted behind his back as he made to take the knife. Sadistically, she relaxed the hold enough to tempt him to try again, only to double up on it as he was about to clasp it. Then she kicked him in the small of the back and he tumbled down within easy reach of it.

“If it means that much to you, I suppose you’d better take it,” Natasa told him, as if she was bored with the matter. He hesitated, not trusting her.

“Go on,” she insisted, “take it. I haven’t got all day!”

If A hated humanity in general, he detested Natasa, the superior, mocking vixen that she was! He crouched, brandishing the knife and uttering curses at her, while she smiled gently back. He sprang at her, using the crouch to give him purchase. It gave him speed, and would have been devastating had Natasa merely stayed still. But she didn’t oblige, and simultaneously swerved out of the way and punched him in the face. Her trusty left fist hammered into the jaw it had so recently damaged.

For a third time, she took his right arm and this time dragged it forward, locking it in the crook of her left arm. Wrenching it at an unnatural angle caused all the strength to ebb from his hand, and yet again, the knife fell to the mat. As A watched it fall despairingly, Natasa hammered her left elbow into his right jaw.

He collapsed onto the mat, and she took hold of his left arm to bring him up to a crawling position, before standing either side of him so that his neck rested between her thighs. Then she applied a standing head scissor. She set her powerful, formidable, thighs to work and they squeezed. They drained the oxygen – and the life – out of him.

Security removed him, and brought in “Prisoner B” the murderess. She and Natasa stared at each other for a few moments, then adopted fighting stances. B kicked off (literally) with her right foot, and Natasa parried it with her right boot. B high kicked, but Natasa warded it off with her crossed arms.

However B was a more formidable opponent than A had been, and when Natasa high kicked, she deflected it with her shoulder. She got her with the next one though, nastily on the side of the head. B replied with a huge one, that got Natasa on the jaw. It forced her back, onto the ropes, and B charged. But Natasa, holding the middle rope for support, waited for the last moment, and kicked vertically. The uppercut-kick struck devastatingly on the chin, and B recoiled into the middle.

Natasa pursued her, and kicked across her stomach, linking with her arm to hold her just where she wanted her. Then she kicked straight, and caught her again in the stomach, her toe wounding the breasts at the same time.

B was in serious trouble. The injuries to the stomach forced her to concentrate on struggling for breath, so Natasa was able to slide down to the mat, on her side, and cross-kick with her right foot. It caught B on the chin again. She would have toppled over had not Natasa been holding her arm, to be sure of her target, as before. She let go and high kicked, finding the chin yet again. B fell to the side, and had to turn to stay on her feet, so Natasa was presented with a free shot at her back. It caught her plumb in the middle of it, and she staggered, dazed and panicky. Natasa waited for her to turn, and fired a horizontal kick into her stomach.

But who knows the desperation of a murderer’s mind? Just when Natasa could reasonably assume that she had the fight pretty much won, B lashed out. She caught her with a straight left kick to the kidney. Natasa trained daily, for hours, so she was strong enough to withstand most blows; but certainly this gave her a dull, throbbing ache. Surprised but undeterred, she spun half a circle and replied with a high kick, landing it where she had already done so much damage.

B shot back, steadied herself, and Natasa seized her left wrist, looking to exploit the hold. But B surprised her again with a sudden palm strike to the chin. She kept her hand there, pushing, and looking to break the hold on her wrist. She succeeded, sensing that the initiative was with her. But she was wrong, because Natasa hooked her right knee into her back. Relinquishing the wrist had been a ploy.

Natasa clasped her arms around B’s waist and lifted her, squeezing. The bear hug was intended to compound the pain in her back, but it was not a total success because B had her left arm on Natasa’s throat, to keep her at bay and to limit her ability to cause serious harm.

Indeed, the knockout blow was eluding Natasa, because B showed an unexpected skill in defence. All Natasa next achieved was a half-body scissor; she held B by both wrists from behind and levered her left leg around her middle. It was enough to cause pain, especially after the knee to her back, but not enough to conclude the bout. For her part, B was still looking to get an advantage, and the two women fought like cats, tearing at each other’s faces and snarling.

Natasa retreated half a pace and banged a solid left cross into B’s jaw. That stopped the snarling abruptly. When she followed up with a right cross, B at last went down. Natasa instantly grabbed her hair and raised her to a sitting position, before lifting her above her head and then placing her over her knee, back first. It was a classic back breaker, and with Natasa’s right hand clasping B’s throat, it was also a life breaker.

At a brief sign from Natasa, Security removed B and brought “Prisoner C” into the ring. He leapt in, threatening, and Natasa stood her ground. He crouched, making as if to spring at her; but, again, she just stood impassively, watching. She won that psychological battle, and C opted for the conventional lock up instead.

They joined hands, probing each other’s strength and resilience. C was confident, being larger. He was quite powerfully built, and reasoned that he should prevail. His hands were larger than Natasa’s, and he sought to establish superiority straight away, by crushing her fingers. But she read his thoughts, slipped her hands away before he got started, and grasped his right wrist. He took his cue from her, and grabbed her right wrist.

C pushed; Natasa braced, and withstood it. Surprised, he held her in place and breathed deeply, to summon up more strength to wear her down. But then he became aware that he was resisting her. He pushed down hard on his heels, puzzled. She applied more force, and he went back a step. He mustn’t retreat. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to hold his ground. He was shaking slightly, and sweat was breaking out on his forehead. Then the awful moment dawned when he realised he was looking up at her face. The shock broke him, and she had him on his knees, now with a hold of both his wrists.

Natasa raised him a little, so he was on one knee, and slammed her right boot into his groin. C yelled, and his body folded over the glimmering black leather. She held his left arm wide, while twisting the right one behind his back, and slid her thighs around his neck, locking it in a standing head scissor. He’d been brought to his knees by the subtle, unexpected, strength of her arms; now he was experiencing the deadly force of her legs. C’s right arm was shooting pain beyond his shoulder and streaks of it seemed to penetrate to his ribs and back. Worse than that, he was struggling to breathe.

Now what was she doing? He was off the mat, moving above her, headfirst (naturally). She tumbled him up and over her to land on his front, but his neck was still locked in thighs – right at the top of them, as Natasa hooked her feet together and pulled him to her, so that his face was suffocating in her sex. She relaxed on the mat, propping herself up on an elbow, while he had to work for every breath.

But this might take too long, she concluded, so she decided to increase the tempo. Without warning, she released him, though he was too debilitated to take advantage of it, and flipped him over onto his back. From behind, she placed him in a headlock and body scissor, locking his left arm at the same time, so the whole move was a complex dragon lock.

But would she ever make her mind up? Because it wasn’t long before she released him from the dragon lock, and opted for a simple reverse head scissor after all, with her lying behind him and gripping his head and neck in her thighs, while the tops of her boots dug into his cheeks. Each time she tightened her thighs, static electricity crackled from the nylon of her tights, singeing his neck and ears. He hadn’t been near a woman for several months, having been locked up, and it was intensely troubling for him – and didn’t Natasa know it, just!

She moved him up and down within her legs, now sandwiching him between the leather of her boots, then back to the sensual burning of her tights. She tormented him sexually as much as she dominated him martially. She turned over, but kept the head scissor going. His eyes took in the full glory of her body: her round bottom was just inches away, while beyond he could see her ample breasts swinging slightly as she propped herself on her hands, looking down at his groin with curiosity.

Then she turned back round and faced him, still supporting herself on her hands and maintaining the head scissor. Dammit, it was still her breasts that he could see though, this time protruding upwards, the nipples poking at the luxurious material of her leotard, stretched as it was to support the position.

At last she rolled them both onto their sides, locking his right arm, and still keeping up with the scissor. Not content, she rolled him further and held his arm as well as his neck between her thighs, so it became a triangle choke. She set to work forcing his fingers apart, and he once again cried out in pain. It seemed an age since she had trapped him, and the only thing he was capable of doing was making a noise.

Tiring of the finger manipulation, she opted to twist his arm instead, conjuring up more ways to inflict pain (with the minimum of effort to herself). Now she locked his arm, pulling it at full stretch, wickedly pushing it down against the pliant flesh of her right breast.

Shifting momentarily, she made him think she had given up her combination of thigh holds on his neck, but it was a fleeting tease. Back she forced it again, this time seizing his left arm between them too, in a second triangle choke. She did the same to him, only on the other side. It gave his right arm a rest, of course – but he only had one neck. At the same time, she alternated between a straight arm lock and a twist, all the while maintaining the clamp of her thighs – sparkling with static electricity, in those expensive tights – on his neck. She smiled lazily at the effects of her work, and folded her ankles elegantly over his ribs, while he roared in discomfort.

She turned him over, so he was face-down. But she maintained the hold, going back to his right arm, which she secured between her right arm and her right side, which meant it rubbed against her breast. However she considered she had extracted the most out of the combinations of this hold, so she let him go, and he flopped down on the mat with relief. Then she snaked her thighs around either side of this ribs, and instantly locked shut a body scissor, meanwhile attacking his face with her clawing right hand.

Using the scissor, she heaved him up to his feet while she lay underneath, and locked his left arm, while trapping his right one inside the scissor. Then she brought him down so that he was lying over her, and put him in a head lock.

Increasing the tempo now, Natasa worked C round in the scissor so that it looked as if he was crawling (without actually going anywhere), and once more grabbed his right arm in a lock. Then she turned him over, face-up now, swapped arm locks, and bent him upwards, using the scissor, by the small of his back. At the same time, she hauled him downwards, via the arm lock. It had the effect of a back breaker.

She manipulated him this way and that, levering him as she chose in that prison of her thighs, and seizing the arm that was available. Face-up, face-down, sideways on, sideways off, it was all bloody agony!

At last she released him; but only to revert to a head scissor. This time it was in a “69” position, and she set to work on his balls with her right hand. He instinctively licked, believing that she would be merciless on his balls if he didn’t.

But this was short-lived. Natasa worked him via a body scissor so that he was upright, on his knees. She stood on her hands behind him, facing away, and trapped his neck once again in a scissor. C tried vainly to prize her legs apart, his clammy hands slipping on the leather of her boots. His mouth opened in a silent scream, because he was too short of oxygen to make any sound.

Natasa knew he was done for. She allowed him to drop to the mat, and forced the last vestiges of life out of him with the scissor, bringing blood from his eyes.