Conquered by Kayla

[inconcordim]

(Hi, everyone! Just sharing another story about Kayla with this forum. As always, I am more than happy to receive feedback and criticism For reference, art and pictures of this lady can be found in this thread: [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register] Enjoy!)

Here I was again.

Even after being decimated by Kat Smith, even after being crushed by Kayla, somehow I had wound up here again.

I was standing in the centre of the ring, lights beating down on me from overhead, crowds milling about at ring-side. By now, I had become reasonably familiar with the routine, with the sights and sounds of the arena. This would be my third match in a professional wrestling environment, even if I had no training to speak of whatsoever. Sure, I had a wealth of experience from years of Tae Kwon-Do and some Canadian military training, but I had learned the hard way that this experience could never adequately prepare me to face off against the likes of Kat Smith or Kayla.

Speaking of Kayla, it might be wise of me to explain to you how I got into this situation in the first place. And by this situation, I mean a re-match against that 5'10" 180lb powerhouse of a wrestler that had been my high school crush back when she and I were teenagers in the Albertan back country.

Kayla had won a very one-sided victory in a 'best of three falls' match in front of a Rival Angels audience. Being 5'9", 140lbs, inexperienced and nowhere near as much of a gym rat as my opponent, it would not be much of a spoiler to say that Kayla won both falls; a third fall never proved to be necessary. But we got together after the match for drinks, catching up and swapping stories. Up until that match, we hadn't spoken in years. These were strange conditions under which to meet this woman of my dreams, but I was happy to reminisce and chat.

From there, I guess you could say I became her groupie or cheerleader. I made sure to show up to any of her matches that were reasonably close by. I took some consolation from the fact that I was not the only person to be totally dominated by this woman in the ring. In fact, I watched as Kayla evolved as a wrestler, becoming increasingly unstoppable in the ring but also increasingly ruthless. She had found her passion and this made her ambitious - ambitious to the point that she would seemingly do anything to secure victory in her matches.

It was witnessing this evolution, together with my previous defeat, that made me dread this evening so much. After one of her most recent wins, we were chatting at her celebratory party. She turned to me and said, in such a nonchalant way that I immediately brushed it off as a joke, "You know, we should have a re-match soon." I didn't think anything of it and moved on to other topics.

But a few days later, I got the phone call from management at Rival Angels. They told me the re-match had been requested and were wanting to know if I would come back to try my luck again against this force of nature. Instinctively, I agreed. Obviously, I don't have very good survival instincts. I'm not sure what compelled me to agree to the match. Kat Smith had left me bruised and battered, not to mention a bit embarrassed. Kayla had left me barely clinging to consciousness, aching all over, exhausted, and humiliated. How could I subject myself to an experience that would very likely be worse than the first match?

Such questions would need to be addressed in retrospect. For now, introspection had no place here. I was in the ring, waiting for my opponent to arrive. I knew that I would need all my focus, all my wits about me, if I even wanted to stay in the action for more than a minute. Naturally, I wanted to put on a better show than that. I wanted to get in some moves. I wanted to redeem myself for the one-sided onslaught I had surrendered to last time. I wanted to be known not as Kayla's training dummy but as a guy who fought bravely and capably, albeit against a very difficult opponent.

Within this frame of mind, I stretched out in the corner of the ring, clad in my Tae Kwon-Do dobok, the plain white uniform of a martial artist. I wore it with pride this time. Most of all, however, I just focused on the basics, stretching and breathing. The more I focused on that, the less my mind might wander to my opponent. I knew that if my mind tended in that direction, then all that would play out in my head would be a highlight reel of Kayla's winning moves from matches of hers I had attended.

Needless to say, it took a good deal of determination to keep my cool as I waited for my opponent to make her entrance.

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With guitars blaring over the loudspeakers, filling the arena with a cacophony of sound, she made her way out from the back. The music was adrenaline-pumping, like something you'd expect to accompany the arrival of a nearly unbeatable end boss in a video game. As she had told me after our last match, this was precisely the kind of effect she wanted to generate with her entrance. Powerglove's "So Sexy Robotnik" might not necessarily have fit her personality but the sound fit the intimidating image she wanted to put forward.

I tried to block out the music, concentrating on my breathing. In through the nose, lock the diaphragm, turn it over in the chest for a moment, then out through the mouth. Inhale through the nose, lock diaphragm, cycle, exhale through the mouth. All the while, I kept my head down. I didn't want to watch her approach the ring, interacting with the audience all the way. The crowd had paid me little heed on my way to the ring; I hadn't been sure that anyone even remembered who I was until I spotted a placard being prepared at ring-side that appeared to be a makeshift scoreboard, stating simply "Kayla: 3 Paul: 0".

I knew the fans would be jubilant at Kayla's arrival. Even the reaction to the introduction from the ring announcer got a wave of applause and cheers cascading around the arena. She was the fan favourite in this match-up. She was the fan favourite now in most of her matches. I knew this already, but to be reminded through the stark contrast in our receptions left me just slightly demoralized.

When she passed through the ropes and entered the ring to stand across from me, I was further demoralized. There she was, looking just as breathtakingly gorgeous as she was when she defeated me last time. She looked like a predatory feline, like a panther or a cougar casually sussing up its prey before striking. Yes, it was blatantly clear my friend had indeed found her true calling. Of course, now that calling entailed hammering me with her full arsenal of wrestling moves for the enjoyment of the fans. A sobering prospect, even if I was happy to see her again. I only wishes that tonight I could watch the beating from somewhere in the audience, cheering along with the rest of the fans as some other poor soul struggled to survive on the other side of the ropes.

Kayla had her blonde hair down, letting it rest on her shoulders. She had donned a black one-piece swimsuit for this match, a slight change from the purple one-piece swimsuit she had worn last time. Even so, the attire flaunted her powerful physique. I was reminded of how I had felt utterly hopeless upon observing how toned Kayla's body had become when we had been reunited in the ring after so many years apart. I felt just as hopeless now, if not more so, knowing that Kayla could employ a wide range of those muscles in a seemingly never-ending plethora of wrestling holds, throws, locks, strikes, and pins. For all the lessons I might have learned from observing her matches over the past several months, it seemed that this might be my toughest match yet.

I realized that I had begun to stare at my opponent and, what was more, Kayla was staring right back. Fixing me with those steely blue eyes, she grinned cheerfully and began to walk over. "Hey! Good to see you again!"

I mumbled a reply, feigning confidence. It was fleeting and fragile, mostly because of the now growing sense of foreboding. Last time, I had been able to imagine that things could go well. Having never faced Kayla before, I was able to fancy that I could take on this powerhouse and possibly pull off a win. I was able to tell myself that it was inevitable that I had lost to Kat Smith - that member of the Hell's Belles was now the TV Champion and was regarded as a very potent fighter by many others on the Rival Angels roster. Losing to Kat Smith, I had told myself, would have happened even if I had far more wrestling experience. But Kayla? She was just a rookie!

And yet, she had won. And she had that winning smile as we greeted each other, an expression that said she had already won.

We shared a hug, then parted. Kayla didn't look me up and down this time, instead looking me in the eyes with a slight hint of concern. "You sure you want to do this? You know you don't have to."

I thought about this for a moment. Did I really come across as so nervous? She seemed to sense my anxiety. If I would be so out of my league against this opponent, would anyone fault me for forfeiting right here and cancelling the re-match? But then I realized that the question was foolish. Of course, I wanted to do this, even against all logic. Of course, I had to do this. So many people had watched me lose two falls against this woman without even managing to pull off a move of my own. My family watched on television as Kayla crushed me into the canvass with a debilitating body splash, pinning me with a grapevine as an arena full of fans counted me out for the final time. A page from a Kayla-themed calendar commemorated that moment, featuring an image of Kayla grinning proudly as she pinned me for the final victory.

You could call it 'honour' or you could call it 'reputation' or even 'credibility'. Whatever it was, I needed to reclaim it. This match could end the exact same way as the last one, with Kayla laughing heartily above me with the bell ringing to signal another win for her. But I needed to do better than I had done before. Not just for my family and friends but for myself.

I smirked at Kayla. "I don't have to. But I'm going to. Are you ready?"

She paused for a moment, as if sceptical. But then my opponent nodded, her smile now one of genuine satisfaction. And was that a hint of admiration, perhaps? "Ready. Just try to hang in there for more than two minutes, babe."

This would be a single fall match. We would spared the gruelling marathon of the previous match, which was some cause for elation on my part. But, at the same time, I worried that the single fall would be limiting. If I messed up, I would have no further chances of redeeming myself. If Kayla opened with a salvo that took me down long enough for her to pin me right there, it would all be over and the score on that fan's placard would be made real.

But I couldn't dwell on that right now. I had one fall and would need to make it count. I tugged on my black belt and dropped into a loose sparring stance. Kayla dropped into a low wrestler's crouch, watching my centre of mass to see whether I would opt for the defence or the offence.

We waited for the bell to ring, for the action to start.

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This time I was prepared. This time I was even more determined to put forward my best showing. Having not seen her in years, Kayla had caught me by surprise with her sheer athleticism and skill in our first match. Now I had a much better understanding of the challenge facing me. I knew winning here would be near impossible, let alone a long shot. But I wouldn't settle for being pounded with move after move, instead setting my mind on scoring some good hits against my opponent.

I had a reputation to remedy. I was no doubt viewed now by many Rival Angels fans as a push-over, the butt of likely more than a few jokes. That happens when you're unable to mount any kind of effective resistance against two opponents. But this would change tonight. I was sure of that. I could see a gap in Kayla's guard, an opening I could exploit.

Ding! Ding!

As soon as the bell rang to signal the start of the match, I was off like a flash. Someone might as well have fired off a starter's pistol from ringside. The distancing between us was perfect so I decided to throw all caution to the wind, putting everything into a round kick aimed at a narrow opening in Kayla's guard. I pivoted on the ball of one foot, and then I lashed out with my chambered kicking leg.

My foot cut through the air like a shark through smooth waters. This was my style of fighting; I was back in my element. I had sabotaged my own efforts in my previous matches by trying to be something I wasn't - a grappler or a wrestler. My repertoire of throws and holds was limited and my ability with them even more constrained. But I could string together long combinations of kicks and strikes, relentlessly tearing into an opponent from practically any angle. For my opening kick, I decided to drive my foot into the side of Kayla's toned abs, looking to knock the wind out of her. The kick would sting a bit but it would be the first kick of many.

The kick looked sure to connect. But then Kayla's guard shifted slightly and I watched in horror as my attack was not only avoided but countered to terrible effect. The amazon standing opposite me brought a hand down to deflect my foot, catching hold of the kick by the ankle. I had put everything into that blow, torquing my body around to put additional momentum behind the kick. Now I teetered off-balance, Kayla adding to my predicament by hooking her whole arm around that ankle.

BOOM!

With a heave, Kayla hoisted me clear off the floor and hurled me around like a ragdoll. I soared through the air briefly, only to come crashing hard onto my back against the hard canvass of the ring. Kayla had lured me in by feigning a weakness in her defences. Even my determination could be used against me by this talented wrestler, it seemed. Now I laid on my back, trying to shake the cobwebs clear after being subjected to this suplex counter-offensive.

I could feel the frustration welling up within me. Ever since Kayla had demolished me last time, I had imagined what a re-match between us would be like. I had pictured it as an epic battle between us, with both of us trading blows and fighting hard to obtain the upper hand. Even when the re-match had been booked, I had fancied that I would put forth a steadfast defence, with Kayla emerging victorious but also with a newfound appreciation for me as an athlete. One botched kick and a retaliatory suplex had seemed to dispel all those fantasies, leaving me with the harsh reality of this mismatch.

Could I really stand even the remotest chance against this powerhouse?

I gritted my teeth and peeled myself off the canvass. Of course I could stand a chance. I would bounce back from this momentary setback and prove myself.

I didn't bother getting fully to my feet. I knew Kayla would be waiting, ready to slam into me with a series of knock-out hook punches and haymakers. She was looming over me, neutralizing my only advantages - speed and the range that comes from being a capable kicker. If I were to rise to the challenge of a toe-to-toe battle, I would be boxed in and hammered into defeat. I would need to resort to surprise tactics and guerrilla warfare to survive.

This manifested itself in a haphazard attempt to trip my bigger opponent. I rose to a crouch, then launched myself forward at Kayla's knees. It was probably not the best thing to do in this situation. But my judgement was clouded by a miasma of frustration, embarrassment, and some element that I couldn't quite place. Was it a sense of unworthiness, of being woefully unfit to fill the role I envisioned for myself as a capable challenger to Kayla's ring supremacy? I had thought it was determination but now it seemed my mindset wasn't so simple or single-minded in its focus.

In any case, I pushed off my feet and sought to wrap my arms around Kayla's legs at the knees. I would try to topple Kayla onto her back, bringing her down to size. It was a trip I had seen work in dozens of matches and fights, and I was sure it would work this time.

But it seems that Kayla was several steps ahead of me once again. She could see me lining myself up for the charge, then prepared to receive my charge. As I propelled myself forward, I could feel Kayla reaching down to place her hands on my shoulders, helping to direct me into just the position she wanted. In a flash, my attempt to send Kayla careening down to my level had left me locked in a deadly set of standing headscissors.

My seemingly unbeatable opponent immediately began to pour on the pressure. Her thighs and calves exploded with force, flexing with all their might. I could feel myself being choked by the pressure, my body no longer able to resupply itself with oxygen. I could do nothing to spare myself from this suffering but hang there helplessly between Kayla's thighs.

Above me, Kayla posed effortlessly. She flexed her biceps to the cheers of the audience. They were thrilled by this display of dominance! I couldn't blame them. The bell had rung only moments ago, yet Kayla had already managed to foil two of my attacks with ease. On top of that, both my attempts to catch Kayla by surprise had turned into opportunities for the 162lb powerhouse to put the hurt on me.

She laughed heartily as I groaned in pain, her scissors leaving me intensely regretting my decision to face off against this up-and-coming wrestler again. "How's it hanging?" She asked, her tone playful but menacing.

For a moment, the scissor hold slackened. The debilitating pressure dissipated, with Kayla now only clamping down hard enough to keep me from trying to escape. I no longer felt like I was being choked out in a sleeper hold by a steel golem, but the pain was sufficiently distracting that all I could do was try to push or pull of Kayla's thighs in a desperate attempt to alleviate my agony. I had always found that Kayla's weakness was that she focused on working on her upper body strength. But she had clearly been working on her legs a lot lately and was more than happy to show off her newly cultivated power.

I soon discovered why the scissor hold slackened, though. I know Kayla well enough to know that a development like this is hardly ever an expression of mercy. Usually, it's a warning that something far worse is about to happen. Sure enough, this situation would not be the exception to the rule; Kayla was about to ramp up the punishment.

The blonde beauty leaned forward above me. I could feel her wrapping her arms around my waist, her grasp firm and tight. Between this and the scissor hold, it seemed as though Kayla were set on crushing all the breath from my lungs. Before I could process what was happening to me, I suddenly felt my body being hauled clear off the canvass again. Somehow I was flipped over in her arms, and in one dizzying movement I discovered myself brought from my kneeling position on the floor to a seated position across my opponent's broad, powerful shoulders.

Kayla hadn't moved from her spot still, handling my weight as if it were nothing. To some degree, this could be stacked up to her more than 20lb weight advantage over me in this match. But it was in large part because of Kayla's impressive strength that she was able to hoist me up or fling my body around without breaking a sweat. Years spent growing up helping on the family farm, service rendered in the military, and ages spent working out in the gym had toned and sculpted her body into a force of nature.

But I was now suspended above the canvass, one leg draping over each of my opponent's shoulders. Her arms remained wrapped around my waist, keeping me from dropping from my perch to the ground below. In such a dreadful position, it would probably be best to pick some point in the distance and stare at it for the sake of ones stability and perhaps sanity. I should have stared up into the blinding lights overhead, praying for mercy from this goddess of the ring.

Instead I looked down, wondering frantically what was about to happen to me. How did I get up here? Why had Kayla brought me up here rather than scissoring me into submission or unconsciousness? What could she be planning?

Kayla was looking back up at me, grinning proudly. Meeting my gaze, she winked flirtatiously. Not only was she able to dominate me physically, she understood ring psychology well enough to dominate me mentally and emotionally as well. My opponent knew how compromised I must feel being held aloft in such a position.

"This is gonna rock your world!"

I swallowed hard and looked up at those all-consuming overhead lights, pleading silently for some sort of divine intervention. At this stage, it seemed as though I would need a higher power in my corner if I were to make it through this night without being taken out of the ring on a stretcher. Yes, I had a feeling now that I knew what Kayla was planning, and it would not be good for me...

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Kayla rocked back on her heels, tensing up for the next move in her onslaught. I closed my eyes, willing myself away from what I knew I was powerless to prevent. This did not magically transport me elsewhere. But I allowed my imagination to take flight for a few moments.

To the hushed anticipation of the audience filling the arena, I began my descent. I could feel my body lurching toward the canvass once more. I could hear a gust whipping past my ears. I prepared to break my fall, trying to calm myself by imagining that I was plunging toward my bed or into a pile of downy pillows.

WHAAAAM!

Intense pain ran up and down the length of my spine. I couldn't help but cry out in pain, shocked by the sheer power of my impact. I could sense the ring buckling with my sudden arrival, an imprint forming in the canvass around my throbbing, aching body. Kayla had brought me down with tremendous effect in a perfectly executed sitout powerbomb. It was truly a match-ending move, a finisher in its own right.

My legs remained in place, draped across Kayla's shoulders. My field of vision, swimming and blurry as though I were looking up at my opponent from underwater, was occupied mostly by her. She was chuckling, likely because she already had me pinned. In the sitout powerbomb, her legs had come to rest across the armpits of my outstretched arms. I couldn't lift my shoulders to break the pin and my legs were secured in her strong grasp. She had me beat in practically record time.

The referee could see that Kayla had me trapped and approached, ready to begin counting me out. Sure enough, the hand came down.

"One!"

But the referee would not have time to finish the count. Much as she had done in our first match, Kayla decided to spare me from defeat for now. Well, that was one way of looking at it. It implied mercifulness on her part. In actuality, the decision to break the pin was borne more out of a desire to prolong my suffering for the sake of amusing the audience.

In the immediate term, the audience was not amused, however. A chorus of boos erupted from ringside as Kayla got up to stand over me once more. Some voices chanted the all too familiar words, "You suck! You suck!" I knew by now that these chants were intended for me, with plenty of people finding me to be far out of league against Kayla or even in a Rival Angels ring. I could empathize with these fans; I was one of them. Of course, the reminder that I'm not a very good wrestler and have no place facing off against an accomplished professional doesn't do wonders for my performance.

"Try to keep up, babe." Kayla remarked, clearly disappointed that I was once again failing to present much of a challenge for her. I must not have been the only one hoping that I would make the match a true battle.

I noticed too late that she still had a firm grip on my legs. As Kayla had stood, my legs had slid off of her shoulders but she had kept a tight hold on each leg. Now she began to roll me over using that grasp, stepping over my prone body in the process. It was a confusing development, since it seemed as though there could be no possible tactical point to moving in such a way. I would be rolled onto my belly and we would wind up facing in opposite directions.

It was only when I had been rolled over fully onto my belly that this began to make sense. With a leg hooked under each of her arms, Kayla now sat down hard on my back. She wrenched my legs back with her as she slammed her full bodyweight down on top of me.

THWUMP!

Knowing that I am quite flexible, Kayla made sure to sit far up my back, her butt resting just beneath my shoulder blades. It was an agonizing Boston Crab! At first, I had thought Kayla had been intending to further show off her physical prowess and power by swinging me around in a circle, only to chuck me the remaining distance out of the ring, a move in professional wrestling that I believe to be known as a Giant Swing. But this Boston Crab soon proved to be a far worse fate. I had seen it applied in matches before, but watching it simply cannot convey just how horribly painful the experience is for the person locked in the hold.

"Let's see how far I can make you stretch!" Kayla remarked somewhere behind me. I didn't need to see her face to know that she was wearing a triumphant grin as she made herself comfortable on my back. I was now entirely at her mercy. There were probably ways I could get out of this hold but they were not techniques known to me. The best I could think of involved squirming, flailing, and hoping that I somehow managed to buck Kayla from her seat. But this strategy was evidently about as likely to succeed as my haphazard attempt to trip my opponent. That wonderfully devised plot had directly led to my being scissored, powerbombed, and rolled over into this very submission hold. Hardly something out of Carl von Clausewitz' playbook.

After giving me fair warning, Kayla began to compound my suffering. The initial stretch had been tolerable. But now my opponent bounced in her seated position on my back, rising slightly only to slam back down on top of me. It was like a frenetic series of squats. For me, however, the result was that the wind was repeatedly knocked out of me. With each bounce, Kayla seemed to sit further and further up my back, stretching me more and more. It seemed as though Kayla understood 'flexible' as being a professional contortionist with a circus troupe. There were limits my body could reach, and Kayla was most definitely pushing the envelope here.

"Can you feel that?" Kayla asked, looking back over her shoulder at me. I could only mouth a series of obscenities as my body was crushed under her 162lbs and contorted like a folding deck chair.

I realized that the referee was now crouched beside us, looking closely at my face with concern. It dawned on me then that there was a growing sense that this was it; I was finished. It was no longer clear how long I had been languishing in the Boston Crab - a few seconds in a hold like that can already feel like an eternity. But I must have spent a while having my legs folded back toward my head because the look on the faces of the fans at ringside and on the referee suggested that no one thought I'd be making it out of that Boston Crab without tapping out.

I gritted my teeth, pushed the pounding of an already-forming migraine to the furthest recesses of my head, and tried to prove everyone wrong. I would not surrender so easily. It would take more than this Boston Crab to take me out.

So began my escape attempt. I knew I could not kick free and that flailing would do little but humiliate me further. Instead, I reached out for the bottom rope. It was still out of reach. Huffing for breath, I placed one arm on the floor of the ring in front of me and pushed. This dragged my body forward a few inches. I reached down and pushed again. The bottom rope came a few inches closer.

I reached down again, prepared to push. But then I felt Kayla release the Boston Crab, my legs and actually most of my body crashing to the canvass with a shove. I was free at last, though it was another blow to my morale that it had not happened on my terms. I had gathered a single-minded determination to crawl my way toward the ropes. I had pictured in my mind the vindication that would come with having the referee instructing Kayla to release her excruciating hold and the arena applauding me for mustering a comeback and achieving a rope break.

But that small victory had been denied me. Kayla probably could have hauled me straight back into the Boston Crab after I crawled the first few inches. But she had not. Why hadn't she? Why had she allowed me to make it as far as I had? Was she toying with me?

I soon had my answer. Desperate to be free from the Boston Crab, I had succumbed to a kind of tunnel vision. The set of ropes I had been aiming for was not all that far from a corner post. Having wrestled Kayla before and having observed some of her matches against accomplished wrestlers, I knew the blonde powerhouse loved cornering opponents. Using her superior size, the act of cornering was psychologically intimidating for her opponents, making her seem even more powerful and imposing. Even more importantly, it allowed her to connect with some hard-hitting moves from which her opponent simply could not run and could not hide.

Sure enough, Kayla quickly moved to trap me in the corner. I began to roll over onto my back, then endeavoured to push myself up to my feet. My back was killing me, having been subjected to some considerable punishment already. I winced and only managed to pull myself up to a kneel. Meanwhile, Kayla turned to face me, reached down to grab me by both shoulders, and then rammed me back into the corner post.

Now I was in for it. I was propped up against the corner post. Dizzying and fatigued from the pounding so far, I only managed to keep my footing by reaching back to take hold of the top rope to either side of me. This left me totally defenceless, but I decided it would be better than toppling forward into Kayla's arms, likely only to be crushed into submission in a Bear Hug.

Kayla was looking me up and down, her look somewhere between amusement and sympathy. She seemed to be enjoying the opportunity to employ move after move on an opponent with impunity, but she also seemed to be concerned that she was being too hard on me in this re-match. It was perhaps this brief moment, this intersection between the interests of my friend and the interests of my opponent, that made it most apparent how clearly out of my league I was here.

Once she could see that I was becoming lucid again, the fog of pain fading slightly, Kayla went back to business. The proud and excited grin returned, foretelling my doom. After that Boston Crab, we were done with the warm-up and the stretches. Now it was time for the real workout.

"You really should workout more!" Kayla remarked, a frequent taunt of hers. Coming from anyone else, it might have seemed sarcastic. I'm quite fit, having spent time in the military and having spent most of my youth either at a Tae Kwon-Do school or running around a track. But Kayla is the very definition of a gym rat, always working to hone her body. Had wrestling not worked out for her, perhaps she could have enjoyed a career in bodybuilding. And so it sounded almost sincere when Kayla ridiculed my smaller frame for the amusement of her fans.

She slammed a forearm into my gut, making me double over slightly with the potency and the surprise of the blow. But the hit seemed to also be intended to suggest that my abs lacked definition. "Here, let me help you out with that tummy."

She didn't linger for a moment, always a blur of motion and frenetic activity. She didn't fumble either. No motion was wasted. Kayla was precise, too graceful to be machine-like but certainly more efficient in her movements than any human I had ever seen. She bent over in front of me, taking hold of the middle rope to either side of me.

"This might sting!" I heard her call out as she tensed up, like a football player waiting to barrel forward and lock up with the opposition. Suddenly, I realized precisely what was in store for me. It was a move that had left me practically broken on my feet in my first match with this incredible wrestler. I could not imagine anyone having the physical toughness and stamina to withstand it.

Kayla withdrew her shoulder from where it had come to rest, pressed against my mid-section. Once again, I could only look up into the bright lights overhead and plead for divine intervention. It was increasingly looking like I would need a series of miracles to come back from the dead and put on the kind of match I thought I deserved.

THWAAAM!

I felt my body and the corner post behind me shudder together with the impact. A hard shoulder block! It really was like I had wound up on the training circuit for an American football team, getting hammered by the full-out charge of a defensive lineman built like a rhinoceros. Kayla pushed off hard on her feet, slamming that shoulder into me as if she were tackling some giant on the rugby pitch. I could understand now why other teams used to fear her when we were younger.

It seemed the contrast in our backgrounds was playing truly to her advantage. Kayla had competed in rugby, while I had sprinted. I had speed; Kayla had speed as well but could couple that with strength, sheer toughness, and adaptability.

THWAAAM!

Almost immediately after the first shoulder block, Kayla drew herself away. Barely a second later, I felt myself once more being hit with the force of an oncoming freight train. My tender abs took the full brunt of the blow. My back seethed against the punishment, the corner post offering no cushion whatsoever.

THWAAAM!

A third shoulder block left me wishing yet again, as fond as I was of my friend and high school crush, that I was anywhere else but in that ring with Kayla. How many more of these would there be? How many more of these could my body take? How many shoulder blocks could a human body reasonably withstand? For not the first time in this match, I felt entirely powerless against this amazon of a wrestler. She could do whatever she wanted with me, unleash as many shoulder blocks against my gut as she desired, and I would be unable to do anything about it.

The audience had never been behind me in this match, but now they were practically going crazy for Kayla. Each shoulder block sent up a whoop from the fans.

As I braced myself for a fourth shoulder block, Kayla released the middle rope and stood up. She had left some space between us, and I could feel myself slipping. My mind reeling still with the impacts of Kayla's body against mine, the top rope slipped away from my fingers and I sank down to the floor. I was careful to keep the corner post pressed against my back, as much as it hurt. I needed to be aware of at least one part of my surroundings. Toppling forward would either leave me in the unknown, with no idea of where I was, or potentially bring me back into Kayla's arms.

I slumped down into a sitting position, leaning against the corner post for support. The cheers of the fans had come to drown out everything, even the sound of my own panting for breath.

"Kay-la! Kay-la! Kay-la!"

For a few moments, that was all there was to existence. I closed my eyes, tried to shut out the bright lights overhead. There was just a chorus of voices, shouting her name. Kayla! Kayla! Kayla!

What could I possibly do at this stage? I had nearly been defeated twice already in this match, nearly being pinned and then coming close to being forced to submit to Kayla's Boston Crab. Now I was exhausted, winded, and aching all over. With the arena going wild, I had a sinking feeling that Kayla would be putting me through one of her finishing moves any moment now. I was on borrowed time.

[inconcordim]

I braced myself for what I believed to be the end. But just when you think you have Kayla figured out, just when you start to identify a pattern, she catches you by surprise by completely changing tracks. This was true of this very moment, as I sat in the corner anticipating being hoisted up onto this amazon's powerful shoulders for a crippling hold or debilitating throw.

Instead of lifting me up into the air, Kayla simply beckoned to me with both hands. It was as if she were gesturing for me to 'bring it on'.

"Check this out!" She instructed me, her playful tone oddly out of place in my current circumstances.

Apparently, Kayla did not want me to get to my feet and try my luck against her in another toe-to-toe engagement. At least not just yet. Rather, she was directing my gaze upward, wanting me to look up at her and watch whatever it was she was about to do. Perhaps her intent was still to employ one of her finishing moves, but she wanted to be sure I was fully aware of my impending defeat.

I was greeted by a remarkable sight when I looked up. My opponent, the blonde beauty who I had been infatuated with for years, placed both her hands behind her head, striking a pose like a swimsuit model. Her smile had been replaced by a placid, relaxed look. She released the pose slightly after a few moments, bringing her arms out slightly to each side of her, and shook her voluptuous bust from side-to-side teasingly. Whistles and cheers went up from the audience, the fans loving Kayla's taunting nature and dominating attitude.

I reflexively tried to avert my gaze from the flirtatious gesture, but she knew I saw it and knew I liked it. I just hoped that this pose was not an indication that Kayla really was about to complete my destruction, finally and completely dashing my hopes and dreams of impressing her tonight. In our last match, Kayla had struck the same pose, complete with the teasing shake of her bust, before hitting me with a Body Splash and pinning me for the count. I had also witnessed Kayla employ the same routine against other opponents, tearing into them with a series of power moves, striking the swimsuit model pose, and then burying them under her powerful body for the three-count.

My thoughts wandered to family and friends as Kayla flexed her biceps to further cheers from the fans. I did not know who would be watching this match from home, but I had a feeling more than a few family members and friends were grimacing in front of the television screens as I was torn apart by the amazon in the ring with me. They had expressed such high hopes for tonight, saying that they hoped I would teach 'that girl from school' a lesson or two about humility and sportsmanship. Yet here I was again, trapped in the corner, exhausted and beaten, while 'that girl from school' posed and flaunted her athletic body.

"Now that's a hard body, huh?" Kayla observed for me, chuckling and winking at me. There was that humility I was supposed to be teaching her in this match. But she had reason to brag, since I had been staring practically mouth agape as my mind had wandered to my friends and family and the embarrassment they must have been feeling for me as I sat in the corner.

My powerhouse opponent seemed to have decided that sufficient time had been spent posing. Now it was time to resume the action. She leaned in and took hold of me under both shoulders, then hauled me back up to my feet. Still shoved against the corner post, I could only take hold of the top rope again to either side of myself, though this time I was not fully standing. It was a sort of half-slump, hand-stand as I wheezed to catch my breath from the salvo of shoulder blocks.

To my surprise, Kayla also took hold of the top rope to either side of me. That voluptuous bust now loomed into view, obscuring most of my field of vision. I started to feel a growing sense of dread. This didn't seem to be a special finishing move of Kayla's, like the Ultimate Workout. This seemed to be something else, though not at all something that would be in my favour in this match.

"Get ready for the close-up." Kayla warned me from somewhere just above my field of vision.

I panicked, practically hyper-ventilating. If this wasn't close enough already, then Kayla was planning a very humiliating move indeed. She had driven home her dominant victory in our last match by pinning me in a grapevine for the count, then hammering me with a post-match chest smother. This seemed to be a novel mid-match variation on that, demonstrating just how clearly overpowered I was in this battle.

Kayla seemed to spot someone or something at ringside that grabbed her attention for the moment. It didn't register much with me at the time, given that I was panicking at the time and might have been asking Kayla to spare me from the fate she clearly had in mind for me. But I've watched the tape of our match over now and know what was transpiring as I stared in awe at Kayla's bikini-clad breasts.

A fan at ringside was holding up a placard, much like a number of others in the audience. Coming down to the ring, I had seen someone hoisting up a placard adorned simply with the words 'The Ultimate Workout'. I had thought the guy was getting a little ahead of himself; the match hadn't even started, Kayla had yet to make an appearance, and he was already calling for the amazon to hit me with her finishing move. Other placards showed more ingenuity and creativity, even depicting illustrated scenes of Kayla putting me through one of her moves. The placard that caught Kayla's attention at this particular moment was purple and said, "WE LOVE KAYLA!"

My opponent seemed to find this placard cute. She also knows how to play to the fans, entertaining them and rewarding their loyalty when an opportunity presents itself. So, giggling and blushing slightly, she blew a kiss to the fan holding up the purple placard. Pointing at the person, Kayla declared aloud, "This one's for you!"

And with that, with both hands now back on the top rope to either side of my head, Kayla plunged her powerful chest hard into my face. I was now truly being crushed between a rock and a hard place. Behind me, the corner post seemed to dig into the back of my skull. The ropes kept me blocked off from any route of escape. And Kayla's well-endowed breasts now pressed firmly into my face, suffocating, smothering, and humiliating me to an unparalleled degree. Somehow even the post-match chest smother from our last battle didn't even approach this.

The last glimmer of hope seemed to disappear at this very moment. Some part of me had clung to the notion that soon Kayla would slip up, make some mistake that would allow me to at least momentarily turn the tables and get in a move or two. But even that was gone for me now. I hadn't tapped out. But I felt defeated. I felt as though my defeat was now merely a formality; it was now a foregone conclusion that soon the bell would ring, the audience would cheer, Kayla would laugh victoriously from somewhere above, and then I would see her hand raised above her head by the referee.

The chest smother against the corner post was not only demoralizing, though. Kayla made sure to make even this move intense and exhausting for me. She pulled tight on the top rope, building up the pressure to deny me all oxygen and deepen my now fully formed migraine. I released the top rope and tried to push Kayla away from me, hoping to at least give myself some room to catch my breath for a moment. But I couldn't find any leverage or muster any strength, so my hands came to simply rest limply on her hips.

Recognizing that there was not much fight left in me, Kayla decided to have some more fun with the move. She released the top rope and placed her hands behind her head in a pose almost identical to the one the blonde had teased me with earlier. From this position, she began to grind her bust from side-to-side in my face. My head so wedged tightly between the corner post and the contours of Kayla's body, I couldn't help but have my head rocked from left to right to left to right with the shake of that powerful chest.

"Wonderful!" Kayla exclaimed, apparently enjoying every moment of her dominance over me. Cameras were flashing all across the arena, capturing this moment of jubilation for Kayla and total defeat for me.

Now Kayla took hold of the top rope again, changing the direction of the grind. Having shook her bust from left to right, she now bounced her bust up and down in my face. Each time the field of her purple bikini pushed forward and upward into my face, the back of my head connected jarringly with the corner post behind me. I was dizzy, disoriented, starved for air, and increasingly feeling as though I were on my last legs. Was this to be my final stand? Was Kayla to humiliate me like this, showing off her complete control over me in this ring, before finishing me off?

Finally, Kayla released the top rope and took a few steps back. At last, I could breathe. Having some personal space for a moment, I realized that my face had gone deep red from the heat and pressure of the hold, not to mention the embarrassment I felt at being subjected to this kind of treatment in front of a live audience and untold numbers of television viewers. I was sweating profusely, from nerves and physical fatigue. I was in a bad place, though I didn't need this moment of silent reverie to be aware of my precarious state.

"Having fun yet?" Kayla asked, adjusting her swimsuit and then placing her hands on her hips. She looked imposingly beautiful in this stance.

I could only answer honestly at this stage. What else could I do? "I'm in heaven... and hell... right now." I huffed and puffed.

She turned to the audience but she could just as well have spoken directly to me. "That's why you like me, right?"

The response from the arena was emphatic. "Yeeaaahhh!"

Now she turned back to me, nodding to me in appreciation discretely. I didn't know how she really felt about the chest smother. Had she been doing it especially for me? Was she mocking me or expressing an attraction for me? Or had that figure somewhere in the audience hoisting the purple placard truly been the one Kayla had been trying to impress with that move? Or was this all business, a move that Kayla knew would leave me dazed and the audience screaming her name? Understanding all the motivations at play in this ring seemed to be as impossible as snatching victory from the jaws of this defeat.

"Come here, babe." Kayla was beckoning to me again, this time her tone challenging. She wanted me to come out of the corner and muster a counter-attack. That wasn't going to happen. We both knew that. I would need at least a few more seconds to catch my breath and gather my wits. Kayla would never wait that long.

Thus the obvious happened. Kayla lunged in, grabbing one of my arms and the leg on the opposite side of my body. It unfolded so quickly, I hardly registered what was happening to me. Indeed, by the time I felt my will to fight returning, I was suddenly hoisted up onto Kayla's shoulders. This was a fireman carry, my body draped across Kayla's shoulders. It seemed now she wanted to show off her sheer strength again, dominating me with the power of her upper body alone and not some sexy special moves like that all-consuming chest smother.

"Heaven and hell is right on, babe." She murmured to me, rotating on the spot. Kayla was showing that she could carry me wherever she wanted. I was content with that, since she had lifted me in such a way that she likely was not planning a Torture Rack. Had a move like that been applied, I would have lasted no more than mere moments. The suplex, the powerbomb, the Boston Crab: all of it had left my back stretched out, aching, and probably bruised to an ugly degree. Not the kind of punishment I would have ever had to contend with in a Tae Kwon-Do match.

She walked us out a few steps from the corner post. "I lift you up to heaven..."

I braced myself, preparing to break my own fall. I knew I was about to fall. The problem was, I didn't know which direction to expect.

"...And I bring you down to hell."

THWAAAM!

A Samoan Drop! Kayla simply tipped backwards, and with a heave she brought my body crashing down to the canvass behind her. She landed somewhere next to me, her body still perpendicular to mine.

I scrambled to get to my feet, sensing that this could be the set-up to a pin. All Kayla would have to do would be to drape her body across mine in something of a cross-body pin and I would be finished. I had nothing left in the tank to break out of a pin if she decided it was time to put me out of my misery. My best bet was to evade the pin attempt entirely, getting back to my feet or at least sliding away to a safe distance.

But a pain went up the length of my spine, leaving me still lying there. I willed myself to my feet again, but it was no use. I would not be getting up any time soon. I could only grimace, longing for the sensation of ice packs on my back as soon as I got out of this ring. That was, if I could remain conscious all through this match to experience that wonderful sensation. Lying on my back, having been put through a short but gruelling series of moves by my friend and high school crush, I could only guess as to whether I'd be knocked out cold by Kayla before the match ended.

[inconcordim]

There had been a dull ache expanding across my mid-section, a soreness that had increased in intensity with each jarring slam of Kayla's shoulder against my gut. The pain was particularly concentrated along my diaphragm, in part due to having to gasp desperately for air so often and for so long in this match. Further up my body, my lungs burned beneath my chest as though I had been running a gruelling marathon.

I was in a critical state. But Kayla wasn't about to offer me any quarter, though. So long as I remained in the ring with her, there would be no respite. She seemed to be enjoying herself so much, I was not so sure tapping out or passing out would be enough to spare me from her devastating onslaught.

KAA-WHUUMP!

The dull ache that was throbbing through my chest and gut was replaced by a worrying numbness. It was as if I was having a momentary out-of-body experience. Kayla had just hit me with a potent Elbow Drop, the ring trembling with the impact of her right arm with my undefended belly. I was taking far too many hits to the core! Just as the core muscles could be the source of a person's strength, they could also be a weakpoint.

Taking too many hard hits to the core can sap all the strength from even a rock hard heavyweight competitor. After all, this was why I opened with a round kick to Kayla's side; my intent had been to wear down my juggernaut of an opponent with hit after hit to her toned core muscles. That plan had since clearly fallen through, but it was seeming now as though Kayla had been pursuing similar strategy against me all along. Nearly every hit had targeted my back and my abs.

I realized I was wheezing for breath, my body crumpled under the blow from Kayla's elbow. The numbness remained, however. It was as though I had been anaesthetized. Perhaps my body was overloading somehow, no longer able to tolerate the degree of pain my nerves had been registering over the past few minutes of this match. How long had this been going on for? It was hard to think back to those opening moments of the battle, when Kayla had blocked my kick and retaliated by bringing me down hard to the canvass with a suplex. But Kayla was probably well on her way to defeating me in less time than she had in either of the two falls of our first match.

I tried to roll to the side, knowing that Kayla could cover me for the pin easily in this position. Having landed the Elbow Drop, she could simply slide over to keep me on the canvass for a crossbody pin. I knew I wouldn't be getting to my feet anytime soon, but I was still stubborn enough and possessing of just enough willpower to move myself to the side.

Or I would have, had Kayla not reacted so quickly. Without hesitation, the beautiful powerhouse began to transition me into some kind of hold. Was it going to be a pin? Was this it? It seemed like it, as I was driven hard onto my back from where I had been trying to roll over. But there was something peculiar about the way Kayla was positioning herself relative to me. This certainly wasn't the lead-in to a crossbody pin or a grapevine.

For a grapevine pin, Kayla would have laid down on top of me facing the same direction. For a crossbody pin, the amazon would have laid down with her body perpendicular to mine. But Kayla was facing the opposite direction, her head pointing toward my toes. It soon became apparent that this was no pin attempt. Kayla was locking me away in a vicious set of reverse headscissors! As soon as she had laid down on top of me, her thighs clamped shut around my neck. To prevent me from kicking or bucking her off, Kayla wrapped her arms tightly around my legs at the knees, practically bear hugging those limbs to let me know there would be no escape from what was clearly going to be an excruciating submission hold.

I felt Kayla cross her ankles somewhere behind me and knew that I was doomed. Now she could really crank up the pressure. True to form, she didn't hesitate to do so, immediately amping up the ante in the hold. The set of standing headscissors Kayla had applied prior to hitting me with the powerbomb had nothing on the sheer brutal power my athletic opponent was able to bring to bear against me in the reverse headscissors.

Her thighs exploded with force as Kayla began to flex her impressive muscles. I was left gurgling for breath, still winded from the Elbow Drop but now no longer able to resupply my starved lungs with precious oxygen. Further to this, I was left confused by the sudden change in approach by my opponent. Kayla had been whittling my back and abs away all match, pounding these areas of my body over and over. Why was she now shifting her focus to choking me out? Was it her intent to single out each separate part of my body for attack? Would a series of seated armbars follow this set of headscissors?

With that dreadful thought in mind, I noticed that my vision was beginning to blur. As it was, my field of vision was mostly encompassed by what would have otherwise been quite a pleasant view of Kayla's flexing glutes. But now that was growing fuzzier by the moment. The lights suspended over the ring, once so blindingly bright, now seemed to be dimming. It wasn't just my vision that seemed to be failing, though. The cheers of the audience, distracting and demoralizing to me thus far in the match, now seemed to be growing distant, as if the arena were emptying.

I had never blacked out before in my life. In my Tae Kwon-Do career, I had participated in many hard-fought matches and taken a few nasty kicks to the head. But never had I lost consciousness in a fight. But it was clear from the way the world seemed to be drifting away from me that I was passing out. If I didn't act quickly, if I didn't come up with something drastic right away, Kayla would be the first person to knock me out cold. And it would happen in front of a live audience and thousands or millions of television viewers.

Despite the intense pain, despite the incredible pressure from Kayla's thighs crushing around my neck, I managed to raise my arms above my head. I was searching blindly for those locked ankles. Grappling was certainly not one of my strong points, but I knew that it would be imperative to my continuing survival that those ankles be parted. If I could break that lock for even a few moments, I could have some chance of squirming free from the scissor hold. But I was fumbling about in an increasingly narrow dark tunnel. I couldn't find those ankles and I was getting desperate. I could only wheeze and cough for air for so long.

My hands came to rest on Kayla's thighs. Losing all sense, I put all my remaining energy into the obviously futile effort of prying the scissor hold apart at its strongest point. It was once again blatantly clear how little a chance I had ever stood against this powerhouse. I could push and pull all I wanted but those legs would not budge even the slightest. It was as though her thighs were tree trunks. Her legs were like steel girders. It was all toned muscle, constricting tighter and tighter around my neck. Despairing, I began to surrender to my fate, lying back and gasping for air that just wouldn't make its way to my lungs.

Feeling me cease my struggles, Kayla turned and looked back over her shoulder at me. Her expression was one of gleeful curiosity, though at times it felt as if I were looking up at her through distorted glass.

For a moment, my hearing became keen as my ears seemed to adjust momentarily to the heavy pressure. As such, I could hear her next words clearly. "Better pucker up, princess. It's time to kiss my tush!"

With that, Kayla began to lift my head from where it had come to rest on the canvass, my chin coming ever closer to touching my chest. She simply raised her legs slightly from the floor, ankles still locked somewhere behind my head and well out of my reach. As my head came closer to her butt, the constricting pain intensified, making me wince in spite of my best efforts to maintain my composure. I could feel her thighs shifting around me as Kayla transitioned the excruciating reverse headscissor into an even more debilitating figure-four reverse headscissor.

For a few moments, I could only groan in misery. Had I kept quiet, I think my body would have failed me at last and I would have passed out to Kayla's scissors. Mercifully, she subjected me to only those few moments of the figure-four variation. Her thighs roiled and pulsed as she transitioned back into the standard reverse headscissor. With a thud, the back of my head came back down to rest on the canvass. I nearly sighed with relief. Or I would have, had there been any way to catch my breath. Each attempt to inhale left my lungs confused, forcing me to splutter and cough.

I was beginning to think I was toast again, resigning myself to my fate. Kayla had begun to toy with me in the scissor hold. The brief figure-four had been the first case of this. Another few moments afterward, she attempted to jolt me awake - or perhaps force any potentially remaining molecules of oxygen from my lungs - with a strange manoeuvre that was almost like a push up. She released her hold on my legs; I would have taken this opportunity to kick, flail, and buck but I could scarcely even feel anything below my neck at this point. Kayla put her arms out before her, raised her upper body partially from my body as if to perform a kind of lazy push up, and then dropped back down. The impact of her body with mine restored feeling to the rest of my body, though only in the form of an intense ache. I moaned at the mini Body Splash, wondering what I had done to deserve being so utterly destroyed and dismantled by this beautiful woman.

But then the thighs parted. Kayla's bikini-clad bum, which had been looming in my vision this whole time, now vanished as my opponent got to her feet. I lay there for a few moments, closing my eyes. I concentrated on my breathing. Too many people in this world go around breathing as if life literally stinks. They take shallow breaths, tightening the diaphragm before the lungs can truly process what has been inhaled. Now that I could breathe again, I took the time to slowly, methodically breathe, going straight back to the basics, the most bare essential of life.

In through the nose. Hold. Turn it over once. Exhale through the mouth. In and out. In and out.

All the while, I listened intently. I waited for the sound of the bell, the rising chorus of elated cheers from ringside. Part of me believed that Kayla had unexpectedly released the scissor hold because she had won the match. Perhaps I had actually blacked out, resuming consciousness without any memory of it. Or perhaps I had tapped out, my body over-riding my stubborn determination in a moment of semi-conscious weakness.

But no bell rang. The fans were milling about, anticipating my final defeat. But they were not celebrating just yet. It seemed I was still technically in the game. How long that would remain the case was now a quibbling detail. Not long, I was sure.

Having caught my breath, some of the colour returning to my face, I opened my eyes and assessed the situation. Kayla was standing over my feet. Hands on her hips, she seemed proud but also expectant, as if she were waiting for me to say or do something. Seeing that I was still conscious, her smile grew softer and another glimmer of genuine admiration shone through the competitive, playful attitude. Kayla was truly impressed that I had managed to endure the headscissor. But what did she have planned next?

My opponent leaned in and took hold of me under both armpits once more. With that hold, she pulled me up to my feet. I swayed there uncertainly for a few moments, barely conscious and lacking much of my balance. It was as though the canvass of the ring had turned into the deck of a ship caught in the middle of a storm at sea. I teetered but Kayla held me in place, only releasing me when she was sure I would not topple over immediately after.

Backing up a few steps, Kayla dropped into a relaxed stance. She looked casual, as if about to demonstrate a move with me for the benefit of some wrestling beginners. Beckoning with both hands, Kayla's competitive grin returned. "Show me what you've got, Paul! I'm all about second chances."

The fans expressed their scepticism about my second chance, booing and jeering me while calling for Kayla to finish me off with any one of a number of knock-out moves. I closed them out. I ignored the audience, imagining they were no longer there. It was now only Kayla and I for the moment. Kayla had given me a second chance to prove myself to her by issuing the challenge for a re-match. It had been her idea, not mine. Now, having been thoroughly broken down and decimated by her athletic power, I was being given yet another chance to prove myself.

It was a long shot. It had been a long shot straight from the start. I hadn't stood a chance the night she and I met up again for the first time since high school. But then I hadn't stood a chance when we were both teenagers, squaring off against one another in the ring during our high school years. She had pinned me with ease back then, and she would pin me with ease tonight. There was an inevitability to it that I had felt all along but was only now fully appreciating.

Yet Kayla kept letting my try again and again. Why? Was it only sadism? Or was there something more here?

I accepted both of them. I accepted the inevitability of my defeat, and the chance Kayla was giving me. It might sound like madness. At the time, it felt like an epiphany. But then nearly anything might feel like an epiphany when you're on the verge of passing out on your feet from exhaustion and a potent beat down. I might have felt the same otherworldly quality had I been asked at that moment if I would rather have sushi or pizza for dinner.

I assumed the closest approximation of a sparring stance I could manage in my condition. My mind grasped for a strategy and clung desperately to the threads of my original plan for the match. Soften up Kayla's core, slowing her down and sapping her strength before trying to pin her. So I lashed out with my rear leg, bringing it up into the chambered position and then firing it off for a front stamp kick. The ball of my foot would clear the distance between myself and my opponent in no time, leaving a sore spot on those tough abs and hopefully knocking her a little off-balance. If I could make her stagger backward, I could easily string together a combination that would knock Kayla on her back.

[inconcordim]

But my kick never left the chamber. The leg came up, but I was already too slow.

Kayla lunged the distance between us, clearing it in a flash. Blinding fast, her left arm powered through the air and smashed into my cheek. KA-WHAM! It was as though I had been punched full force by some towering behemoth of a heavyweight professional boxer. I lurched with the impact of the left hook, reeling off-balance. Clearly, Kayla had also been brushing up on her punches since we had last wrestled, polishing her already excellent technique.

KA-WHAM! Sure enough, a right hook followed the left. As I struggled to maintain balance, Kayla torqued around to deliver a punch that nearly sent me flying off my feet and back down to the canvass. So much for my second chance at my second chance. I had been too badly bashed and hammered to pull off an effective attack, hesitating but for only moment. And that moment was all Kayla needed to begin tearing into me again with her incredible strength.

I was only just regaining my balance, blinking to bring my blurry vision back into focus, when I heard Kayla's laughter. I almost sighed. I knew that this was it. Deep down, I knew I was finished. She had given me ample opportunity to put up a fight. Now it was time to make her dominating victory over me official.

"How about a hug, tough guy?" She remarked, her tone cheerful and bubbly. Under any other circumstances, it would have almost sounded like a friendly invitation. But Kayla hardly had a gentle hug between two friends in mind.

The audience went wild as Kayla stepped in close against me, taking her time as she did so. Her powerful arms wrapped around my mid-section, and then she flexed. Right away, my world constricted into a very tight box. In an instant, the unbeatable amazon was flexing her sculpted muscles, bringing the full might of her upper torso strength to bear against my small frame. With a sharp inhalation, Kayla deepened my dilemma and hoisted me off the ground. My feet dangled aimlessly in the air, my 140lb body lifted clear off the canvass by my opponent's 160lbs of pure power. An incredible bear hug!

This was why she had been working on my mid-section and back this entire match. Not only had targeting my core slowed me down and sapped me of all my strength, the onslaught of moves had softened me up for this final bear hug. All along the point of contact between Kayla's arms and my body I felt an intense throbbing ache. Yeah, there would be a lot of bruising to contend with when this was all over.

Gasping for breath, my body being crushed in Kayla's mighty embrace, that end did not seem so far off. My opponent had begun to build up the pressure, all the while rocking my body from side-to-side in her grasp. It was as though she were crumpling my small frame into a rumpled ball of newspaper to be tossed into a waste bin at her leisure.

I glanced down into those pale blue-grey eyes as Kayla ceased rocking me from side-to-side and slackened the pressure slightly. She wasn't about to offer me mercy, of course. The pause was just so she could adjust her hold on me to maximize the pressure in the bear hug. Done with her adjustments, she shook her head to bring blonde hair into place on her shoulders and bit her lip mischievously. She had something in mind that would no doubt be deeply amusing to her and to her throngs of fans in the arena but would put me out of commission once and for all.

The vice-like grip intensified and I practically swooned in pain, crying out as Kayla crushed me like an empty can. "You're... just too tough..." I groaned, not completely aware of what I was saying or doing anymore.

"You did good, Paul. It was a nice try." I heard her reply in consolation, her voice lowered so that only I could hear her words. To those watching from ring-side or on television, it must have looked as though Kayla were quietly encouraging me to tap-out. The tone of her voice was so out of place in my predicament. It sounded soothing, whereas this bear hug was anything but!

But that moment of quiet kindness was over in a flash. With surprising and perhaps even disturbing ease, Kayla transformed back into the merciless juggernaut taking joy from my destruction. A grin spread across her face as she bounced my body effortlessly in her arms, jostling me about to increase the constriction in her hold and to put on display her complete physical dominance over my now near-limp body.

She turned to look out at the audience at the nearest end of the ring, smiling at them triumphantly. I thought I caught her winking knowingly at the cameras, as if sharing a secret with the lenses that dully reflected the bright white of the overhead lights. What was she up to? When would this agony end?

"Don't you just love losing to me, babe!" Kayla exclaimed, now looking back up at me as she held me in her powerful arms. It wasn't a question, it was a proclamation.

As if on cue, the cheer went up from the audience and echoed around the arena. "We love Kay-la! We love Kay-la! We love Kay-la!"

What happened next took me completely by surprise. There had been some shocks in this match but this one topped all the others.

Kayla craned her neck in close. I tried to turn my head away, not sure if this was the set-up to a headbutt or something else terribly painful. I felt as though anything would send me lurching over the precipice into unconsciousness at this point. If I were to defeated, it would not be by headbutt. Kayla could drape me over her shoulders and bust my back with her Torture Rack finisher for all I cared at this point. But a headbutt? After all this buildup? No thank you.

"Here's your kiss good luck." Kayla chuckled, amused by my squirming.

My heart skipped a beat at that remark. A kiss good luck?

It was no trick. She didn't pull her head away only to smash it back into mine with a nasty blow to my forehead. Instead, Kayla leaned in and planted a firm kiss on my cheek. It lasted for a few moments, but then that seemed about right for the circumstances. After all, she had announced it to be a kiss good luck and I would need all the luck in the world to survive even a few more moments in this debilitating bear hug.

Kayla wore a proud smile as her lips parted with my cheek. I was blushing very, very noticeably after that gesture from her. I only hoped that all the onlookers took my change in complexion to be due to the sheer power of the hold I was in. Maybe, hopefully, they would think I had turned from deathly pale to beet red because I was on the verge of needing hospitalization, not because I was enthralled by a simple kiss on the cheek from my high school infatuation.

But the surprise and embarrassment did not end with the kiss on the cheek. Kayla always had to push the envelope a little further than anyone would have anticipated in all her matches, it seemed. "Go big or go home" was how she had characterized her style to me in one of our chats since we last wrestled.

She pursed her lips and then, to my disbelief, Kayla said, "And here's your kiss good night."

I felt hollow inside. Those few words knocked the wind out of me with the same force as the series of shoulder blocks Kayla had landed against my gut in the corner of the ring. I understood that a kiss good night meant that this match would be well and truly over in less than a minute now. But what shape or form would this kiss good night take? Another kiss on the cheek?

Kayla leaned in again, still holding me tightly in her arms, still crushing my body from every angle in her deadly bear hug. Turning her head slightly, Kayla locked lips with mine. To the whistles and catcalls of the audience, we shared a kiss. It lasted only a brief few moments, and Kayla had probably only landed the kiss for show. But it reminded me of all the feelings I had for this woman and left me wishing this moment had happened anywhere and anytime but here and now, in front of so many people.

I was breathless. I must have still been gaping in surprise because Kayla chuckled as we parted. "Not bad." She remarked. I felt like retorting that I had performance anxiety and might have kissed better had we shared this moment privately, but I was in no position to be making quips now. I was tongue-tied from the surprise and left wheezing for air by Kayla's incredible upper body strength.

Kayla seemed to be steadying us for something, planting her feet firmly and tensing up unexpectedly. I nodded, despite myself. I knew this was it and wanted my opponent to know I was ready to accept my fate.

"Here we go now!" She said, her tone warning everyone to brace themselves.

With that, we took flight. Kayla dashed forward a few strides, still holding me aloft. Dazed, I suddenly felt myself soaring through the air. Kayla must have leapt up, still holding me tightly in her arms. I winced, sensing that something big was approaching me rapidly from behind.

For the briefest instant, it felt as though I had been hurled into scathingly hot water.

And then everything went black.

BAAAA-BOOOOOOOM!

I cringed as I watched my body impact with the canvass on the television set. Kayla's body crashed into mine a frenetic heartbeat later, her powerful body burying mine.

I had a feeling I knew how this match ended. I had woken up in what seemed to be a recovery room elsewhere in the arena where my match with Kayla had been held. Someone had told me I had been knocked out cold after taking quite the beating from that powerhouse of an opponent. I could remember the beating all too well. But I couldn't place the exact moment I had blacked out. Had it been in the bear hug? Or had it been as Kayla rocked my world with a devastating Body Splash?

I had my answer now, watching a recording of the match. Revisiting the pounding I had taken did not seem to help my grogginess. But I wanted to see how it all ended. What had it been like for Kayla? What were her thoughts when she discovered that, not only had I been unable to keep up with her, but she had managed to knock me out cold right there in the ring?

The recording included the voice-overs of the ring-side commentators. This must have been what my family and friends had been watching at home. I had blocked them out up until now, but they were astounded by the Body Splash and their ecstatic, reverent tones caught my ear.

"Wow, an incredible splash from Kayla! Poor Paul is not getting up from that one." A male voice blurted out. Oh, how right he had been.

A woman's voice joined in now. "You've got that right! I could feel the ground shake from over here."

It was the first voice again. "Once again, Paul has been conquered by Kayla."

While the commentators prepared to write my obituary, Kayla set about locking me into a grapevine pin. No one had noticed that I was unconscious yet, since my body was being crushed into the canvass underneath Kayla's muscular body. With her slight height advantage and superior strength, it wouldn't have seemed odd to anyone that Kayla was able to cinch the grapevine with what looked like, and what really had been, casual ease.

I watched as my body was spread-eagled painfully, my hands pinned above my head. Had I been conscious, the stretch might have even been too much for me and I prided myself on my flexibility. But I was in a different realm of existence at this point. Only now was I experiencing the aches and pains from this stage of my in-ring decimation.

As the commentators hushed, I could hear Kayla calling out to her adoring fans. "Faaantastic! Count him out with me folks!"

The whole arena came alive. Kayla counted out slowly and deliberately. The referee counted out. The audience packing the arena counted out. I realized that, even as I watched myself in my moment of defeat, I counted out.

"One!"

"Two!"

"THREE!"

DING! DING! DING!

The bell rang, a familiar sound in that it always heralded my defeat. The count of the fans, a mere formality, was now replaced with their cacophonous cheers, a mere annoyance at this point.

Kayla was speaking to me now but the sound of her voice was inaudible over the wave of sound now cascading from the television set. She seemed to be asking me something along the lines of, "Wasn't that a terrific workout?" It might have been a terrific experience, simply because I seem to have masochistic tendencies and can enjoy a good match, even if it turns out entirely one-sided and I'm the one on the losing side. But would characterizing the match as a 'terrific workout' be at all accurate? Well, let's just say that it's a good thing for everyone that Kayla has not considered a career as a personal trainer!

When Kayla heard no response from me, she looked down and discovered that I had passed out. At this time, the ring announcer declared erroneously that Kayla had won the match via pinfall. Technically, my powerhouse opponent had won the match via knock-out. But I would have been more than content if that little technicality was not recorded anywhere. Losing via pinfall would be small consolation for my self-esteem. I reflexively crossed my fingers as I continued to watch the recording, hoping that my unconsciousness would go largely unnoticed by the vast majority of the people in attendance.

No dice here either.

Discovering that I had lost consciousness at some point between kissing me and pinning me for the three-count, Kayla alerted the referee. As she got up off of my prone form, Kayla approached the ropes and some staff began to gather around me to determine what kind of medical attention I might require. The arena seemed to hush, with people seeming to be concerned about my status.

Kayla didn't really assuage those fears, but she did manage to find a silver lining to the situation. Grinning in satisfaction at her victory, she shrugged non-chalantly, then declared, "Guess my kiss is a real knock-out!"

That got a few laughs out of the crowd.

"Or maybe I don't know my own strength. Anyway..." She rubbed her palms together as if excitedly anticipating something, then beckoned with both hands to no one in particular. "Who's next?"

The commentators were now back to remarking about how soundly beaten by Kayla I had been, by how she had conquered me, and speculated as to who her next opponents might be in weeks to come.

I clicked off the television set and glanced down at two objects that had wound up in my hands again. After coming to in this recovery room, they had been the first things I picked up off the side table. One was my cell phone, the other a slip of paper that had been left for me.

I had a post-match tradition, one which I had carried over from Tae Kwon-Do tournaments to my few wrestling matches. As soon as I was able, I would call my family and update them on the fight. When it came to Tae Kwon-Do tournaments, the phone calls were a treat, a highlight, something to look forward to. But then I usually called with good news after those bouts. I'd tell the folks back home that I had won, they would shower me with praise and congratulations, and then it would finally dawn on me that I had won and could celebrate.

But wrestling was a different matter, especially when it came to matches against Kayla. My family had watched that amazon destroy me in my first match against her, most likely grimacing and shaking their heads in despair the whole time. Tonight had been more of the same. If I called, they would tut in disappointment and wonder aloud what I could possibly see in such a bombastic show-off.

Even so, one of the values I try to uphold to the utmost is loyalty. I respect tradition. This would have motivated me to pick up the phone and call to break the bad news, even if it was likely they were already painfully aware of it. But the other object in my hand was what gave me pause. That slip of paper was a note from my victorious opponent.

It read simply, "Thanks for the re-match! Drinks on me this time?" Followed by her number and her name, Kayla.

I still could not sort out just what she was up to. I was receiving some awfully mixed signals from this woman, but then I was hardly behaving in the most rational manner either. I had known from the start of all this that I had been out of my league against Kayla, that I had little to no chance of winning an arm wrestling match against her, let alone a high-level professional wrestling match. Yet I had accepted the terms of our match and our re-match.

Why?

I knew why. Deep down, I had known all along.

I raised my phone and began dialling a number.

I believed I had a choice as to who to call now. In reality, the choice only existed in my imagination. There had never been a choice to begin with. Long ago, I was conquered by Kayla.

[inconcordim]

(And that's the end of that! I would like to make an offer to interested readers: if you'd like to star in the next one as Kayla's opponent, let me know and we'll put you in the ring. Good luck!)

[Silnafawn]

I'll take you up on your offer inconcordim, would love to be in the ring with Kayla. PM me for statics (Name, height, etc) for the story

[inconcordim]

Great! I've sent you a PM. Looking forward to putting it together

Any other challengers for Kayla? Let me know if you're up for facing off against her - I clearly wasn't!