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  #1  
Old 08-Feb-15, 20:00
inconcordim inconcordim is offline
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Default Crushed by Kayla

((I've written a few stories in the same universe as the Rival Angels webcomic, which I thought worth sharing here. These are told from a first-person perspective and some illustrations of my opponent, Kayla, can be found in this thread: [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register] Hope you enjoy! Feedback is always welcome!))

I was back in a place to which I never thought I would return.

The bright lights beating down on me from above. The din of voices chatting excitedly. The adrenaline rush of anticipation and the smell of sweat, mingled with perhaps a bit of chalk powder and maybe even blood. The slight give of the ring’s canvas beneath my feet.

Yes, I was back in the ring at Rival Angels despite my better judgement. The last time I found myself here, I had been invited to take part in a match against one of the Hell’s Belles, Katherine Smith. Needless to say, I was completely dismantled by that powerhouse. She seemed to expend very little effort, yet I was struggling just to survive.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t that often that I was recognized in public as ‘that guy who got pwned by Kat’ but whenever it did happen it was incomparably embarrassing. It wasn’t so much about losing to a woman; Kat Smith was clearly a superior opponent and such is her athleticism that probably most men, including male professional wrestlers, would probably be defeated by her, too. It was the manner in which she beat me, though, that made recognition by observant wrestling fans rekindle my humiliation. I don’t think I even managed to get a single move in against Kat.

So what brought me back to Rival Angels, back to this arena, back to this ring? Well, it’s a long story and I haven’t yet got around to introducing myself to you.

Hi, my name is Paul. As the ring announcer for this upcoming match will tell you, I stand 5’9” tall and weigh 140lbs. Not exactly an imposing figure, being quite lithe, but I’m no stranger to a fight and usually can compensate for my lack of physical stature with speed, flexibility, and experience. Basically, I’ve been practicing Tae Kwon-Do and Ba Gua Zhang since I was a child. To boot, I served as a Reservist for a while in the Canadian Army. With all this experience tucked under my belt – my black belt, that is – one would think that I’d be full of confidence as I make my way down to the ring.

But I’m visibly nervous as I pass between the ropes and take up position in my corner of the ring. The cause of my anxiety is my opponent, which touches on that topic I avoided earlier – how I got into this mess in the first place.

Rival Angels occasionally takes on new talent, and some get a little time in the spotlight before being sent to the developmentals. There, these wrestlers mature and gain experience before the decision is eventually made to either add them to the Rival Angels roster itself or to release them from their contracts. The initial spotlight is a test, a way to see who cracks under pressure and who thrives.

Having acquired one promising wrestler from a small independent federation in my homeland of Canada, the decision was apparently made to give her one of these baptisms by fire. The trouble was finding an opponent that would make the match particularly interesting. Someone with the management must have recalled the entertainment value that was derived from letting Kat Smith destroy me for several gruelling minutes and thought it wouldn’t be a bad idea to repeat the scenario.

So, I was called up one evening, seemingly out of the blue, just as I had been when I was invited to pit myself up against the unstoppable force of Hell’s Belles’ amazon. Normally, I would have passed up the offer I received in that second call. Normally, I would have asked if they were crazy. Had it been any other opponent, I would have declined. But it appears that Rival Angels has some great researchers on hand, and the caller knew I couldn’t pass up the opportunity with which they were presenting me.

My opponent would be Kayla. I hadn’t heard from her in years. We were good friends and classmates back in school. It was no secret that I had the biggest crush on her, but Kayla was a jock and a pretty intimidating athlete even then, so I was afraid to approach her. After high school graduation, we both signed up for service with the Canadian Army around the same time, too. But then we fell out of touch, parted ways. I went with the infantry, she went with communications. I went east, she went west. And that was that.

That is, until tonight. Tonight, we’d have a rough reunion. Tonight, I would be pitted up against an old friend.

The trouble is, Kayla had become an even more imposing and intimidating athlete in the years since we’d last seen each other. Standing an inch taller than me, Kayla had a 20lb weight advantage over me. 5’10” and 170lbs of toned muscle. Whereas I had put my focus into the Korean and Chinese martial arts of Tae Kwon-Do and Ba Gua, Kayla had been a star member of the high school wrestling team, participated in rugby, and had a passing interest in Judo. I couldn’t lord my military experience over her as an advantage either, since she fully matched me for that.

What had me really worried, though, was that this wrestling ring would be familiar territory for my opponent. Before making her way up to Rival Angels’ developmental leagues, Kayla won four consecutive professional wrestling matches against more experienced opponents, only losing once to the reigning Champion of her old federation. As for me, my only time spent in a wrestling ring had been as Kat Smith’s punching bag.

As I waited for Kayla to make her entrance, I could only swallow hard, trying desperately to slow my breathing and my heart rate. She would have a 30lb weight advantage, formal wrestling training, and a good deal of ring experience behind her. I really wanted to get back in touch with her, and perhaps even impress her with my interest in something she had apparently found to be her life’s true calling: professional wrestling. But would it be worth getting trounced all over again? Would there be any hope of survival?
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  #2  
Old 08-Feb-15, 20:03
inconcordim inconcordim is offline
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Default Re: Crushed by Kayla

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.

There she was, looking even more breathtakingly gorgeous than I remembered her. Kayla made her way down to the ring, waving and blow kisses to the fans, grinning with so much happiness that it was clear she 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.

Kayla had her blonde hair down, letting it rest on her shoulders. She had donned a purple one-piece swimsuit for this match, showing her powerful physique. If there had been any doubt in my mind that this match would be even tougher than the one I had against Kat Smith, they were dispelled when I saw the kind of definition she had to the muscles in her arms and legs. Apparently, she had been working out just as much, or even more so, than she had when we were going to school together.

After entering the ring, Kayla fixed her steely coloured eyes on me and her smile managed to grow even wider. “Hey!” She said, her tone sounding genuinely pleased and jubilant. Not sure, though, if that was because she was happy to see me again after all those years or if she was more so thrilled to be getting into the ring in front of such a huge audience.

She stepped forward to share a hug with me. “It’s so good to see you again, Paul!” It must have seemed a bit odd to the audience to see two combatants in the ring embracing each other like long lost friends. Then again, perhaps they had been brought up-to-date about the history to this match before I made my way down to the ring myself. No one seemed to be raising any objections, anyway.

After giving me a light kiss on the cheek that left me blushing, we parted and Kayla took a step back to look me up and down. She was smirking as she made her appraisal of what kind of opposition I would be able to put up. Now is probably as good a time as any to share with you another part of the history behind this match-up. Remember how I said I had a crush on Kayla in high school? And remember how I said Kayla was on the high school wrestling team? Well, during our time in school together, Kayla and I were in the same gym class and I wound up getting matched up against her in the wrestling unit. Back then, she completely overwhelmed me and had me pinned in front of the rest of the class in a matter of a few minutes.

I had deserved it. Being the typical testosterone-fuelled teenager at the time, I had been trying to show off and impress her. Kayla had found it a little annoying, decided to take me down a few notches, and issued a challenge. From the way she was appraising me now, I could tell she was thinking this match would be a repeat of that unfortunate occasion.

“You ready, babe?” She asked, looking suddenly eager to tear into me. Kayla was still beaming, but there was something about her demeanour that had changed suddenly. She seemed somehow more sinister and menacing. I began to realize that this might not be the same young lady I had fallen for when we were kids. Over the past years, she had no doubt had some important experiences just as I had. We had grown apart and were very different people than we had been before. For all I knew, she might see me in a very different light than I saw her. That could mean a lot of things, but one likely scenario entailed a lot of pain and punishment for me. Besides, at the end of the day, I was an opponent she was tasked to defeat in a wrestling match. Everything else was garnish.

“Absolutely!” I said, putting on a confident air. Couldn’t show fear or she’d try to exploit it. “Looking forward to it.”

Kayla nodded enthusiastically as she took up her spot in the centre of the ring. “Yep. This is going to be wild!”

Wild? What was that supposed to mean? My match with Kat Smith had been really tough, physically demanding, and entirely one-sided. But wild? Bar brawls were wild in a savage sense. Roller coasters could be wild in an exciting sense. In what sense was Kayla anticipating a ‘wild’ experience in this match?

I took up position across from Kayla but did not have very long at all to think on Kayla’s underlying meaning, if there even was one to begin with. Shortly after reminding us of the rules, the referee took a step back and gestured to someone at ring-side. This was it. The action was about to begin.

What made me especially stupid in consenting to take part in this match were the special stipulations of this match. In fighting Kat Smith, the rules had been quite simple. Whoever pinned or submitted the other fighter won the match. This match with Kayla would be the best of three falls. That meant that we’d actually be fighting at least two matches in one. If I tapped out to one of Kayla’s moves, we would have a few short minutes to recover in our respective corners of the ring, and then we would go at it again. If this match made it to a third fall, I imagined that we would be shambling around the ring like old-fashioned zombies, pushed to the brink of physical exhaustion. Or I would be, anyway. From the way Kayla was brimming with energy when she stepped into the ring, I had the feeling she could wrestle me for the best of five falls and still have enough stamina leftover to spend an hour lifting weights at the gym afterward.

I tugged at my black belt – I had elected to don my Tae Kwon-Do dobok for this match – and then took up a relaxed sparring stance. Come what may, I would try to make Kayla at least work her darnedest to get those two falls. I couldn’t lose as big this time as I had to Kat Smith.

Ding! Ding!

The battle had begun.
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  #3  
Old 08-Feb-15, 20:05
inconcordim inconcordim is offline
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Default Re: Crushed by Kayla

THWUMP!

Practically in the same instant as the bell rings, I’m hit hard in the gut. It’s a heavy blow but the effect is amplified by the surprise.

Maybe I had a misconception of wrestling, but I always had the impression that it started off slow and methodical. The two combatants would square off against one another, then circle, looking for an opening and sizing up each other’s stances, only to explode into action after a while. The psychological combat precedes the physical. At least that was my impression, anyway.

Perhaps it had been the case that Kayla saw an opening and exploited it immediately. Perhaps my technique, my vaunted Tae Kwon-Do, wasn’t as effective as I believed. The fact of the matter is that a left jab from Kayla cut straight through my guard and smacked hard right into my abs.

Before I could double over with the force of the impact, as just as the delivery of the left jab registered in my mind, Kayla fired off another punch. THWUMP! This time a right straight powered into my gut, roughly where the jab connected a millisecond prior. She was really going to town on my mid-section! Could this be her way of softening me up for some even worse stuff?

I had no doubts about that. Clearly, Kayla was not going to offer me any quarter in the match. I could not expect our history to lead her to be soft on me. At the end of the day, Kayla is an aspiring professional wrestler, right on the verge of breaking it fully into the big time.

As I began to double over with the force of the one-two punch combination, Kayla proceeded to step it up a notch. I spotted a blur of motion out of the corner of my right eye, something surging toward that side of my head. In an instant, I knew I was in trouble, especially because I was in no position to fend off the blow. My guard had been focused high at the start of the match, expecting Kayla to clinch with me first. Now, having taken two strong punches to the gut, my hands had drifted downward instinctively. Everything from the neck up was now wide open to attack.

THWAAAM!

My head reeled with the impact, my cheek throbbing as soon as her first connected. A powerful left hook! Was she trying to knock me out right here and right now? What had I signed up for? I thought Rival Angels was a professional wrestling establishment, not some boxing circuit!

I managed to regain most of my balance and was turning around to face Kayla once more. Dazed by the force of the hits I was taking, I desperately tried to bring my guard back up. I had a feeling Kayla wouldn’t stop at a jab, straight, and a hook. The sight of her body torquing around with the momentum of the left hook confirmed this.

THWAAAM!

Unfortunately for me, Kayla’s fist traversed the remaining distance to my head faster than I could bring my guard up. This time, a right hook connected with my other cheek and nearly took me off my feet. Kayla’s upper torso strength was tremendous! So far, in the span of a few seconds, she had torn in to me with a series of devastating punches. I had been powerless to stop every hit. This was not looking good.

Suddenly, I had cause to yelp. But, when I opened my mouth to cry out in pain, I couldn’t muster much of a voice at all. The cause for my sudden agony and inability to speak came from my opponent, who had swooped in to keep up the onslaught. As I teetered off-balance from the force of the second hook punch, Kayla lunged in and wrapped her arms around my mid-section. I was now being hauled clear off the ground in an excruciatingly tight bear hug.

It merits mentioning that Kayla had always possessed incredible upper body strength. Even before my family moved to the small town Kayla had called home all her life, she had helped out around the family farm. Ambitious, she’d take on tasks that most in their childhood would be considered strictly the purview of the ‘grown ups’. All her siblings had been brothers, so she took to tussling with them as well. Thinking on it, it seemed to make perfect sense that she would take to a life of wrestling. Kayla’s life to date, from her childhood to this very night in the Rival Angels arena, was the CV of the quintessential female wrestler.

At the mercy of the axiomatic wrestler, I could only groan and grit my teeth as I was crushed in her vice-like grip. Grinning up at me, Kayla seemed relaxed, as if this bear hug was taking only a fraction of her effort to apply. She chuckled and asked conversationally, as if we casually chatting over dinner, “How did you like my Muhammad Ali routine?”

I took as deep a breath as I could manage, then produced my retort. “It was, uh… passable.” I tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, as if the brief boxing match and the current bear hug were mere inconveniences. It was probably evident to her that she was beating me soundly and that she had already left me demoralized, but I wanted to try my best to play that down. If it seemed as if I was somehow unimpressed, Kayla might be thrown a little off and that would give me just the opportunity I would need to muster a counter-offensive of my own.

The trouble was, I thought as Kayla’s arms continued to squeeze tighter and tighter and my diaphragm was constricted into a smaller and smaller space, a counter-offensive still might not do much to improve my odds of coming out the winner in this match. If I knew anything about Kayla, it was that she could take what she could dish out. She wasn’t just strong, she was tough. A counter-offensive would only buy me time, nothing more. It would be about prolonging my survival, not getting me closer to submitting or pinning my amazon opponent.

Kayla arched an eyebrow, her smile switching to more of a smirk. “Passable?” She echoed the word mockingly. Instantly, a flash of pain went up the length of my back. Kayla’s arms exploded with force as she brought even more of her strength to bear in the bear hug.
I felt like an empty juice box having the air crushed out of it by a giant hand. My hands probed Kayla’s forearms, looking for some kind of nook or cranny in her grasp that I could use to work myself free. My desperate efforts to keep this from becoming the quickest victory in Rival Angels history seemed to amuse my opponent; still smirking incredulously up at me, she indulged herself in another chuckle before building up the pressure on my diaphragm once more.

Mercifully, Kayla released the bear hug shortly thereafter. Hovering a few inches off the ground, I plummeted back down to the ground. I had no sense of balance left, having been hammered with punches and then crushed in Kayla’s arms. So I collapsed onto my back, a heap huffing for air. This was probably the worst position to be in when facing off against a professional wrestler – and a powerhouse at that. She could do practically anything to me in this situation, with me on my back and her standing over me.

But I honestly didn’t care. Maybe it was a lack of discipline on my part. But all I cared about in that moment was getting some air back into my lungs. The key to victory has never been self-asphyxiation, after all.

Kayla, seeing that her opening salvo had taken such a tremendous toll on me, took a moment to enjoy herself and show off a bit. The powerhouse lifted her right arm and flexed the bicep, putting the muscle definition on prominent display. Leaning in, she gave the flexed bicep a kiss, then winked at me. The pose said everything. She knew she had me beat already, and she was telling me in her own silent way that she knew I was aware of her vast superiority, too.

I was losing the physical battle, sure. But I think this was the moment I lost the psychological battle.

“You really need to put on some weight!” She taunted, indicating now my pretty scrawny – lithe, I’d rather call it – frame. “I bet I could bench press you.”

That second part elicited a laugh from the fans. The audience was starting to get behind Kayla. This was great for her, but was pretty awful for me. They were starting to see me as the laughable punching bag. If I were to get an upper hand later on, as doubtful as that seemed, the audience would be firmly against me, booing my efforts.

Kayla seemed to be losing her patience with my lack of endurance. I was still lying there, not quite realizing how vital it was that I get to my feet and put some distance between myself and my opponent. I was concerned only with shaking the cobwebs free, catching my breath, and admittedly I had even been drawn into watching Kayla perform, hanging on every word of her taunts as the fans surely were.

But now the 160lb amazon took up a wrestler’s crouch and beckoned to me with both hands. “Come on, babe. Show me what you’ve got!”

With such a clear challenge, I couldn’t just keep lying there. I had expended the opportunity to recuperate. Now it was time to get up or get taken out. Given the ruthlessness Kayla had displayed in her opening moves, she probably wouldn’t ask me to get up a second time; she’d just pin me and win the match, or at least win this fall.

A backward roll put a little distance between myself and Kayla and got me back partially to my feet. The roll would have normally been effortless but there was a bit of a sting as I rolled this time. It was as if my belt was digging into my skin through the now ruffled material of my uniform. That bear hug had really been something!

While I was distracted, Kayla began to barrel toward me. As soon as I made my move to roll, she was giving chase. This woman definitely didn’t want to give me a chance to put my own skills to use. My kicks and strikes needed some distance. Tae Kwon-Do and Ba Gua were middle to long-ranged martial arts, not well-suited to the up close and personal tactics of Kayla.

Seeing her coming at me, I decided to counter-charge. It would be better than trying to backpedal out of the way, only to be steamrolled. I brought my shoulder down low, then pushed off, looking to attempt something approximating a football tackle. Maybe something that unorthodox would throw Kayla off a little or catch her by surprise. She’d be expecting me to be sticking to elegant techniques that required preparation and forethought, not an expression of brute savagery like this tackle.

But this wasn’t a very well-considered strategy. Kayla, with her 20lb weight advantage, saw me coming, caught my charge, and neutralized my momentum in an instant. I began to charge and then I hit a brick wall, basically. Even if I had more distance to build up the momentum behind my tackle, it probably would have been stopped as easily by this blonde amazon.

I felt my body being positioned for something. Kayla wrapped one arm around my neck, slapping on the pressure in something of a weirdly angled headlock. I felt her other hand grab hold of the waist of my pants. Before I had any clue what was going on or could try to break free, I felt my body being hoisted up again. This time, though, my body was being lifted higher into the air than had been the case with the bear hug.

With feelings of vertigo setting in, I had a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach. This was bad. The audience began to cheer. This was really bad!

And then something rose up to hit me. Hard. It felt like the ground. Somehow the floor of the ring had jumped up and…

BOOOOM!

No, that wasn’t right. The floor of the ring had remained precisely where it had been all along. The devastating impact, which seemed to cause the whole arena to tremble to me, had been the end of my flight through the air, facilitated by Kayla’s physical strength and ring prowess.

A rolling release suplex! Kayla had broken out the throws now, suplexing me down with surprising force.

But my high school crush was not about to stop there. A woman on a mission – a mission to destroy me in dominating fashion – she was moving around somewhere above me. I was still writhing in pain, checking to see if I would need a chiropractor after this match to straighten my spine from that suplex.

With some rough tugging, Kayla hauled me back up to my knees. As soon as I was there, she slapped her arm around my neck in the same weird headlock from before. As her bicep and forearm flexed around my throat, I felt her hand grasp the waist of my pants again. Everything was as it had been before, only I was in more pain this time. Was she about to employ the exact same move on me?

A cheer went up from the fans, and up I soared. In my mind, I was screaming, “Not again!” She could have done anything to me. She could have tied me into pretzel shaped contortions. But another suplex like the last one? I wasn’t sure how many more of those I could take. I wasn’t sure if I could do anything to prevent her from executing another dozen rolling release suplexes in succession. None of my previous training had anything to do with a situation like this. I could ward off spearhand strikes and even reverse most armbars. But a suplex was an alien concept to me.

BOOOOM!

My flight ended as painfully as the last. Another rolling release suplex!

I lay there, trying to will my body to stand up. But it was no use. My back protested each time I tried to lift myself from the canvas. It needed time to re-connect everything before I’d be able to order my hands and feet into motion.

This was a serious problem for me. There was never an idle moment for Kayla. Even as I lay there, seeming to surrender to her power and athleticism, she was on her feet. The ground around me seemed to shake as in an earthquake. I realized it was the thudding of Kayla’s footfalls as she ran to the opposite end of the ring. That was a clear indication that she had something in mind for me still more devastating than the pair of rolling release suplexes.

This match was ramping up in intensity. Each time Kayla took me down with something, she set up for an even bigger move. I started to wonder how many more notches she could ramp this match up by before I couldn’t keep up anymore. As it was, I was failing to keep up with her, to stay in the action.

I didn’t want to know what the Vegas odds would be now.
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  #4  
Old 08-Feb-15, 20:07
inconcordim inconcordim is offline
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Default Re: Crushed by Kayla

I was still nursing the pain extending down my back from the arsenal of suplexes Kayla had subjected me to when my opponent set about unleashing her next powerful move. Each of her manoeuvres thus far had packed a considerable wallop. Whether it was a right hook to the cheek or a rolling release suplex that took me down, every move Kayla employed seemed intended to knock me out cold. She certainly wasn’t pulling any punches for an old friend.

With a shove, I was rolled over to lie facedown. Well, at least she wasn’t planning on pinning me already. That was something ever-so-slightly in my favour. But what was Kayla planning that required me to be facing a certain way? What could be done to me this way that couldn’t be done while I was lying on my back, staring up at the ceiling?

“I like to stretch before every workout.” Kayla was speaking to me from somewhere above and behind me.

Suddenly, I felt the wind being knocked out of me again. An ache encompassed my belly. Without warning, Kayla had sat down on my back. Her 160lbs of muscle now weighed down on the small of my back, keeping me stuck firmly in place.

“Here, I’ll show you a few.” Kayla continued, her voice playful, as if joking around with me at the gym. Her actions didn’t match the words, though. Even as Kayla was speaking with me as if she were daring me to a short race around a track, I could feel her grabbing hold of both my arms by the wrists. She was beginning to draw my arms up and backward.

Before I could muster any kind of resistance, I found myself locked in an excruciating Camel Clutch. Things were really starting to look grim for me at about this point. But how could I have managed to escape from the Camel Clutch? Dazed from the punches Kayla had landed, shaken by the series of suplexes, and with an immensely powerful amazon sitting on my back, there was not much I could do. With no leverage, I also could not have possibly tried to wrench my arms free as Kayla set me up for the Camel Clutch.

Now, my back was being contorted into an involuntary yoga pose. Kayla was really pouring on the pressure, bringing her upper body strength to bear. Her hands were now cupped under my chin, pulling the back of my head in tight against her body.

From this angle, I couldn’t see anything of Kayla’s face. But I imagined, given the ruthlessness of the punishment I was enduring and the strength she was putting into the Camel Clutch, that she was somehow angry with me. I really could not think of why. Had there been something I had done years ago that she was seeking vengeance for tonight? What had I done to deserve this?

Hearing me groaning in pain and concern, Kayla seemed to take some degree of pity on me. I could feel the pressure in the Camel Clutch slacken slightly. The hold was still painful, leaving me panting and gritting in my teeth to avoid simply slapping out my submission. But it felt less like Kayla was trying to kill me.

I felt her crane her neck forward, then heard her whispering in my ear. “Nothing personal, Paul. Try to hang in there as best you can.”

This lifted my spirits slightly. Or, put more accurately, it softened the blows that we’re being dealt to my self-esteem. Sure, I was being dismantled in humiliatingly one-sided fashion in front of a live audience and television cameras. But at least I knew that Kayla was not doing this because she held something against me. My opponent was still my friend. Under any other circumstances, we might be catching up over a few drinks. Chances were, we would still do just that after the match and the recovery from my apparently imminent defeat.

What mattered was the knowledge that this was not some kind of grudge match I had stumbled into.

But no sooner had relief set in that Kayla cranked up the punishment to even higher, previously unimaginable levels. The Camel Clutch, the sensation of having my body contorted and crushed against my will and against the laws of nature, had been bad enough. Now Kayla was innovating, adding her own flair to the move at my own considerable expense.

Whaaam! Whaaam!

I coughed in agony and surprise, totally unprepared for the two blows I had just sustained.

Kayla had held onto my chin with one hand, drawing the other away. Then, with unexpected force, she slammed the inside of her forearm into the underside of my neck. She had effectively whacked her flexed bicep into my throat. It was a blow that took an awkward trajectory to reach its mark, so the punch was not so powerful as to cause any injury. But it hurt. A lot. At first, seeing the hand drawn away, I thought Kayla was winding up to deliver a hook punch to the side of my head while holding my head in place. But clearly the blow was intended to demoralize and panic me, rather than give me a concussion.

As soon as the bicep strike hit its mark, Kayla switched hands. The whole thing took a second to unfold. A quick thrashing that left me red-faced and winded once more. As I coughed and spluttered, Kayla wrenched back hard again on my back, cupping both hands under my chin once more and pulling with her amazing might.

Then, as suddenly as this violent outburst began, it ended. Kayla released her hold on my chin and stood up. I began to slump down and forward, eager to just lie there and curl up into a ball for just a few moments of respite. That was all I wanted. All I needed, I told myself, was a few seconds to catch my breath and rest my back. After that, I would be back in action, ready to stand toe-to-toe with my merciless opponent.

But Kayla wasn’t releasing me permanently from the Camel Clutch. In fact, the temporary reprieve wasn’t even intended as an opportunity for me to recover. On the contrary, she let go of me so that she could line up another attack that would further add to my misery in the potent submission hold.

BOOOM!

Kayla, standing over, jumped up into the air on the spot. To those watching in the audience, she must have seemed to hang there in mid-air for an instant. In that instant, Kayla had her preparations for landing. She wasn’t planning on returning to the ground on her feet.

No, Kayla landed seated on my back once more. With my back stretched out from the first phase of the Camel Clutch, and with my mind yearning for rest, the impact of the Butt Drop left me deeply regretting the decision to set foot in the ring with Kayla. I had stood no chance against her when we were younger. But this – this was bringing ‘one-sidedness’ to a new level in professional wrestling.

I was flattened to the ground again by the Butt Drop, left once again without any defence against Kayla. And, quite predictably, Kayla’s first reaction was to re-apply the Camel Clutch. Sitting on my back, phased with zero resistance, she was in prime position to lock me away for the move, possibly for good.

I moaned in pain as I felt myself being dragged up into the contorted posture I had endured moments before. Kayla cupped both hands under my chin, then squeezed hard again. I could sense her grinning with anticipation and excitement, as she enjoyed her dominance over me and looked to secure her first fall of the match. If she got me to tap out here, she would need only submit or pin me once more to win the match. I would be defeated without even managing to swing my arms in the vaguest imitation of an attack. A ‘decisive victory’ would be an under-statement, and this would be her introduction to the Rival Angels fans.

Confident that she had me beat, Kayla raised her voice to speak to the fans at ring-side. But her words were meant just as much for me as they were for the audience. Kayla was quite adept at ring psychology, I was discovering. She taunted in a way that excited the fans and got them hyped for the match but also demoralized her opponents. It’s harder to pull off than it sounds, though Kayla took naturally to it and made it seem like it was as effortless as any other form of communication.

“He’s in a whole world of pain, folks.” Kayla boasted, then paused to toss her hair and smile proudly. “Give him a little encouragement!”

Some in the audience laughed, while others mockingly cheered me on. It was clear that I had no real support base in the stadium. No one had my corner. This joking gesture on Kayla’s part had confirmed to both of us that she had the backing of the audience. Now she could play to their support, while I would feel isolated and weak.

To be honest, however, the last thing I cared about at that moment was whether the fans liked me. The Camel Clutch was agonizing. The referee had come over to check to verify that I was still conscious, as I had stopped groaning and yelping in pain. I could feel myself drifting away, but I stubbornly refused to tap out my submission. I couldn’t set up my downfall like this. I couldn’t surrender like this. It had felt like an eternity since the match started. But, thinking back in my hazy mind, I realized that not a whole lot had transpired. Kayla pounded me with some punches, threw me around, then tortured me with a Camel Clutch. It could only have been a few minutes.

I would not lose to Kayla in record time. No way.

Whaaam! Whaaam!

There was a slight slackening of the pressure in the Camel Clutch, the promise of freedom, and then my hopes were crushed with another set of bicep strikes to my neck. I had experienced them before, but they were just as devastating as the last time. I turned a still deeper shade of red, and proceeded to practically cough up my lungs.

Then the hands went back to cupping under my chin and the pressure increased. “Terrific!” Kayla exclaimed, thrilled with her power.

With a nonchalant shove, I was released from the death grip and allowed to collapse. I enjoyed the sensation of the sweat-stained canvass on my cheek. It felt soothing somehow. Welcoming. The canvass wouldn’t do anything to hurt me. Like a pillow, it was just remain there, static and comforting in its stability.

BOOOM!

My rest was rudely interrupted, the quivering of the ring and the pain coursing up my spine the punctuation to Kayla’s latest flight. As soon as she released from the Camel Clutch, the beautiful blonde amazon jumped up into the air and landed another Butt Drop on top of me. This time, I had no energy to fuss over the pain inflicted. I just lay there, apathetically.

Kayla remained seated on my back for a few moments. That gave me cause for concern. Would she be so ruthless, so cruel as to repeat the cycle again? Would she keep up the Camel Clutch until I gave her what she wanted – tapping out, or passing out? I had never known Kayla to be quite that determined. I had always believed her to be capable of compromise in certain situations. Injuring me with this onslaught seemed to be a situation worthy of avoidance. Surely, she had some other move in her wrestling arsenal?

“Ugh, please… no more…” I pleaded, as I felt Kayla moving my body around from somewhere above and behind me. I was too disoriented to tell if I was being dragged back into another Camel Clutch or if something else was going.

“Don’t worry.” Kayla said, her tone still more mocking than soothing. Her words were still just as much for the fans as for me. “This is gonna be great!”

Hardly reassuring, coming from her. But the indication was that I had been spared from another phase of the Camel Clutch.

I felt myself being rolled over onto my back. Going for the pin already? No, it didn’t seem so. As soon as I was positioned properly, lying in place, Kayla began to jog backward and away from me. As she did so, she came more into view, standing over my feet, then getting further away.

She called out to me. “Don’t go away! I’ll be right back.”

What was this? An impromptu half-time break? From what I could see, Kayla had hardly broken up a sweat. How could she have? This match so far had probably been less physically demanding on my opponent than her usual workout routine. I was presenting less of a challenge than her set of dumbbells. The bear hug near the start of the match might have taken some effort, hoisting me off the ground and crushing me in her arms like a cheap tin can. So why the rush back to her corner for a swig of water?

But Kayla did not remain long in her corner. If she took a swig of water, I did not see it. One moment, I was staring up at the lights, chastising myself for agreeing to this after experiencing a match with Kat Smith so many months ago. The next moment, I could see Kayla bouncing off the ropes and bounding back toward me.

She was getting closer. And closer. I thought about rolling to the side at the last moment, dodging whatever she was planning. Whatever it could be, it would not be good. Aerial moves always seemed to hurt. But then Kayla bypassed me. She just kept running, her feet coming close but cutting a path clearly to something beyond where I was lying.

I did not have long to be confused. I heard a cheer go up from the audience. There was the distinctive sound of something or someone hitting the ropes somewhere behind me. Then the ground around me shook as Kayla came racing back toward me.

BAAAAAAAM!

Nothing could have prepared me for the impact that followed. The perimeter of the ring shook with the force of the collision. The ropes quivered as if the arena had just bore witness to an earthquake.

Kayla had landed what could only be described as a Butt Drop of epic proportions. The drops that had connected with my back in the midst of the Camel Clutch had hurt and strained my back. This time around, I was left breathless and convinced that they would probably need a giant spatula to peel me off the floor of the ring. I could only lie there, wondering how anyone could ever face off against the amazon who was pounding me into defeat.

Kayla remained seated on my chest, back presented to me. She was laughing heartily as another cheer went up from the audience.

I could see someone at ring-side holding up a sign that read simply, “Game Over – Kayla Wins”. I’m not sure if that was what Kayla was laughing about. But I could agree with that sentiment. That Butt Drop felt like a true ‘game over’ moment, though I had a feeling that there would be a few more moments like that before this night was through.

“Having fun yet?” Kayla asked, looking down at me from over her shoulder. As our eyes met, she winked at me. My heart skipped a beat at the gesture. And at that moment, I awkwardly realized that I had brought my hands up to defend myself as Kayla crash landed on my chest. My hands were resting on her hips. Blushing, I brought my hands away, then immediately realized my mistake. Having my hands there had been a brilliant idea – how else would I manage to push this woman off of me? It’d be hard enough in this position to shove her 160lbs off of my much smaller frame. I needed to find some kind of leverage in order to push hard enough.

As I fumbled aimlessly, the referee came over. I was such a mess, it had not yet dawned on me that Kayla had me successfully pinned. Aside from crushing me down into the canvass, the Butt Drop had allowed Kayla to drive both my shoulders down squarely. With her sitting on my chest, it seemed impossible to bring one of those shoulders up in time.

The referee began his count while Kayla merely smirked down at me with a triumphant look.

“One!”

“Two!”

“Thr-!”

Before the referee could bring his hand down for the count of three, Kayla picked herself up off of me. She rose from her seat, standing up tall to tower over her badly bashed opponent. I needed no invitation to spare myself from an embarrassing loss. As soon as I saw Kayla begin to rise, I rolled over slightly to the side, removing one shoulder from the canvass.

So, I was not entirely useless. I still had not managed to launch, let alone, land an attack against my opponent. I also had not yet managed to successfully escape or even avoid one of Kayla’s devastating onslaughts. But I had managed to capitalize on an opportunity offered by Kayla to save myself from defeat. That development somewhat rose me above the challenge level of a set of dumbbells. Not much of a differentiation, but I would take what I could get.

Kayla had turned around to face me, and I could tell she was beginning to feel impatient. I honestly couldn’t blame her. She remembered me as being able to present at least some challenge to her dominance and athleticism, and Kayla must have been expecting me to make her work for the victory tonight. What she did not realize is that, in the time we had been apart, she had developed a lot more as a fighter than I had. Kayla had outpaced me in that regard, and so now she was outmatching me.

“Come on, Paul! You can do better than this. I nearly got you there.”

The playful, charismatic Kayla returned. She took up a relaxed fighting stance and beckoned to me with both hands. “Warm-up’s over. It’s time for the real workout!”
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  #5  
Old 08-Feb-15, 20:09
inconcordim inconcordim is offline
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Default Re: Crushed by Kayla

Despite everything that has transpired in the match up until this point, I felt something stir inside me. It wasn’t Kayla’s words, admonishing me for not putting up much of a fight. I simply dug deep, driven to pull myself off the ground. Maybe it was the fear of being shamed and humiliated, getting beaten down again in front of a live audience and an array of television cameras. For the sake of my dojang, for the sake of the Army and my regiment, for the sake of my family and friends, for my own sake… I had to make Kayla at least work for the win.

A phrase bubbled up from the depths of unconsciousness. It felt a little like I was hanging on the precipice of passing out, only to have some words of encouragement float up from the abyss. Pain is an illusion of the senses. Despair is an illusion of the mind.

I couldn’t figure out where I had heard those words before. Was it something my Master had told me when I was undergoing training for one of my belt tests in Tae Kwon-Do? It didn’t seem so. Was it something a drill instructor had barked at me as I strained to deliver the demanded number of push ups? I wasn’t so sure. Perhaps it had been something I just picked up from somewhere, like a television show or a movie. Wherever those words came from, I found purchase in them. Even as my muscles protested against it, and even as my joints ached with pain, I hauled myself to my feet.

I could feel myself gaining momentum. Yes, I had found my second wind. Yes, I could fight off Kayla for several more minutes, and maybe even put her back on the defence for a change. So sure was I that this was a transcendental moment in the match that, in one fluid motion, I lashed out with a round kick to Kayla’s side as I rose to my feet.

I knew she would offer me no quarter. Kayla’s mercilessness in the match thus far had demonstrated that she would think nothing of beckoning me to get up and face her, only for the amazon to toss me around like a ragdoll before I could even stand fully upright. I needed to mount an attack to buy myself time before I could really unleash an assault of my own. The round kick was intended to smack hard into Kayla’s side, making her wince and getting her to back off a bit. Tae Kwon-Do is a longer ranged martial art than wrestling; I needed space to excel.

Sure enough, Kayla was ready and waiting. I thought the round kick was spontaneous, a flash of motion that wasn’t telegraphed to my opponent at all by a tell-tale twisting of the hips or tensing of the shoulders. Still, my opponent saw the kick coming from a mile away. It was as if I were fighting a wrestling goddess, unbeatable and unrelenting.

Catching my leg just below the knee, Kayla neutralized all my momentum. I was now balancing on one leg, trying to tear my kicking leg away so that I could retreat to a safe distance or attempt another kick to a less defended target, like one of Kayla’s calves. But my leg would not budge, all my flapping and flailing coming to nothing. After a moment’s pause, the powerful blonde lunged in and wrapped her arms around my body.

It was a flurry of motion. Not being much of a grappler, I really could not tell what was going on. Was Kayla seeking to hoist me up into another one of her debilitating bear hugs? I wasn’t sure my body could withstand another minute in one of those.

This time, I was spared from the crushing embrace of Kayla’s bear hug. But there was definitely something afoot. My suspicions were confirmed when I felt my feet clear the floor. Once again, I was in flight! Against my will, I was soaring through the air. Up into the air, to the cheers of the audience, above Kayla…

WHAAAAM!

…And back down hard to the ground. I had felt a sense of euphoria as I got up from the floor. Adrenaline and something else had dispelled the effects of all Kayla’s punches, suplexes, and submission holds, or at least pushed them from my mind. Now all of that pain and anguish was brought back home to me. I couldn’t help but quiver in pain, my back aching indescribably.

To add to the long list of moves I had experienced in this match, Kayla had just brought me down with a lifting side slam. I was aware that the slam was known by a lot of names in the world of professional wrestling. As I had learned in that moment, it hurt like heck no matter what it was called.

Still with some senses left about me, I cast a glance around at my surroundings. Depending on what Kayla did next, my environment could make all the difference. It seemed I was in luck. With all the action that had transpired in the ring, we had got quite close to one set of ropes. If Kayla sought to lock me in another Camel Clutch, I would have some chance of survival. It would not be a matter of somehow overpowering a 160lb powerhouse of a wrestler. Rather, it would be a matter of working one arm free long enough to grab hold of the bottom rope. What I was unable to do myself, the referee would for me – that is, breaking the hold.

Pleased with the idea of having the referee on my side for once, doing something other than counting me out or checking to make sure I hadn’t passed out in Kayla’s arms, I readied myself to mount some resistance to my opponent’s amazing strength. I anticipated another submission hold. Kayla would probably save the pin for the second fall, really putting her dominance on display for the big finish. She had confirmed that by sparing me from the three-count earlier.

Instead of feeling myself hauled into a set of scissors or another Camel Clutch, however, Kayla hooked a hand under each of my armpits, propped me up slightly, and then began dragging me. Strangely, I was being hauled in the direction of one of the corner posts. I didn’t have long to try to twist myself free of her grasp, given that we were practically right by the post in question. I was shoved hard into the corner, my tender back slamming into the hard surface.

To keep myself from simply bowling over face first or collapsing onto my knees, I quickly reached out and grabbed hold of the top rope to either side of me. That would help keep me on my feet and might offer me the leverage to haul myself out of the corner. I felt far too exhausted by this point to think of this as an opportunity for some acrobatic counter-attack, using the top rope as leverage to kick out at Kayla’s mid-section with both feet. I simply felt too weak to do much more than brace myself and hope to be able to dodge to the side in time to avoid whatever Kayla was concocting.

I felt Kayla’s forearm shove into my abdomen, then remain firmly there. She was keeping me propped up in the corner, not letting me fall accidentally or move away intentionally. I was trapped.

Some movement at ring-side caught my eye, and it apparently caught Kayla’s attention to as she began to grin with that same enthusiasm that I was finding both incredibly beautiful and incredibly dangerous. I spotted the distraction. A fan was holding up a big sign, its contents distinguishing the young guy as a long-time Kayla fan. Two lines of text were written in large font, easily read from where I was leaning in the corner of the ring, “Kayla’s Gotcha!” Between the two words, an exquisitely illustration had been done, depicting Kayla apparently trapping me for the three-count in a grapevine pin. It’s like the guy could predict the future.

But he was no doubt a fan of Kayla’s from her time on the independent circuit, happy to see his favourite wrestler making it in the big time. The fan no doubt had a better idea of my old friend’s capabilities in the ring than I did. I had come into the match thinking I stood a chance, as I had in our high school days. This fan had no such delusions; he had known how this would end because he had seen Kayla win match after match against foes far more ring savvy than I.

Seeing us both looking in his direction, the fan became visibly excited. He waved the sign around, then cupped a hand to his mouth to shout some words of encouragement for his favourite wrestler, the woman methodically destroying me. “We love you, Kayla!”

Blushing a little, Kayla called back to the fan and the audience in general. “Love you, too!” She turned her attention back to me for a moment, as if suddenly remembering that she had me stuck in the corner still. Briefly, she turned back to call to the dedicated fan. “This one’s for you!”

With both hands, Kayla blew the fan a kiss. I felt myself go hollow inside at the gesture. It was surprising that it had such an effect on me, but it did nonetheless. A pang of jealousy had taken over me. Who was this fan to Kayla? Was he just someone who had been following her career, a stranger seen in different crowds across North America at her matches? Or was he something more to her? I couldn’t believe that I was experiencing this kind of envy at a moment like this one. There were more important concerns, like whether I would be able to avoid having to be taken out of the ring on a stretcher at the end of this match.

But then Kayla turned to face me, leaned in close, and I felt my face redden in embarrassment as my dream girl gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. She had already done so once, when we first met in the ring. Under the circumstances, this kiss felt more real, more significant somehow. It was only quick, a platonic gesture probably. But it seemed to convey a deeper connection, as if the process of Kayla beating me down with suplex after suplex, punch after punch, added another dimension to our relationship. Weird, I know. And it was probably the adrenaline and testosterone getting to me.

“Hold on!” Kayla warned, almost in the same breath as the kiss. 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 is gonna sting!” And that was the only warning I received. Suddenly, Kayla drew her shoulder away from where it had come to rest, pressed against my gut.

THWAAAM!

I felt my body and the corner post behind me shudder together with the impact. A hard shoulder block! It was like I had wound up on the training circuit for an American football team. 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.

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, as fond as I was of Kayla, that I was anywhere else but in that ring. 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.

I was entirely at her mercy now. I felt that not even the referee could be my salvation, except to declare me no longer fit to fight and send me home.

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!

Then there was a stirring, movement overhead. My eyes flashed open. I could remember this being a bad positioning. It was coming back to me. Kat Smith’s stinkface. I had been sitting in the corner of the ring, back propped up against the post. First, she had slammed into me with something known as a ‘Bronco Buster’ and then had humiliated me and brought me to the verge of tapping out my surrender by shaking her toned buttocks in my face. Had Kayla seen that match? Did she intend to taunt me with a similar move? While I had resisted the near-overwhelming urge to tap out to Kat Smith, I had a feeling that I was too depleted to resist such a move from Kayla. Thanks to Kayla, I could have the distinction of being the first person in wrestling history to tap out to a stinkface.

I nearly breathed a sigh of relief when I looked up to see that Kayla had not turned her back to me. She was standing facing me, both hands grasping the top rope to either side of the corner post. But I counted my blessings too soon. While there was no chance of being subjected to a stinkface in the position, there were still moves Kayla could hit me with at this angle which would be humiliating.

Kayla’s swimsuit clad abdominals encompassed my field of vision. “Check these out!”

BAAAAM!

Kayla slammed her belly hard into my face. I felt my head being crushed and ground against the corner post. Deeply disorienting, it took me a moment to figure out which direction my head was facing. I could feel the definition of the muscles underneath, flexed and pressing into my undefended face. It was another example of Kayla’s cruel creativity, a kind of modified body avalanche combined with a belly smother.

Kayla let out a hearty laugh, her abs jiggling in my face. After a moment, I realized that it wasn’t that her belly was shaking with the laughter. No, Kayla was grinding her core muscles into my face, swaying her hips and shoulders slightly to make her abdominals dig from side-to-side and up-and-down in my face. Deeply embarrassing, deeply disorienting, and also quite painful.

“Now those are some muscles, huh, babe?” Kayla taunted, her tone playful. Again, she was challenging me to put up a fight. But I think by now we both knew that wasn’t going to happen. She had me beat. If she could do this to me, she had already won the match. It was simply a matter of someone ringing the bell. Well, ringing it twice. The thought of that left me with a sinking feeling. If I had to go through all of this for Kayla to win one fall, how much more would I have to go through before she decided to finish me off at last?

With one last grind and another chuckle, Kayla released the top rope and took a step back to survey the damage. She was smirking in approval, apparently satisfied with how things were looking. The gleam in her blue-grey eyes told me she had found her true calling. It was like a world famous poet happy to have completed her greatest work yet, or a carpenter contented with an exquisite table she had fashioned through hard, honest work. I was finished, and now all she needed to do was put on some final touches before taking a break and starting anew.

I would be two projects in one. Worryingly, I had a feeling from that proud smile that she intended to try to top her performance in the second fall.
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  #6  
Old 08-Feb-15, 20:11
inconcordim inconcordim is offline
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Default Re: Crushed by Kayla

I scrambled back up partially to my feet. Kayla had a proclivity for repeating some of her moves, like the spine-stinging suplexes and the agony of her Camel Clutch. Against a more capable opponent, she probably would do no such thing. Re-applying moves against those kinds of enemies would have negative consequences. Against me, Kayla knew she could get away with it.

Fearing a repeat of the body avalanche and belly smother, I took hold of the top tope in both hands and desperately dragged myself up to my feet. The whole while, I remained leaning against the corner post. I could no longer trust my feet. Even as I struggled to stand, I felt wobbly around the knees and nearly slipped at one point. I was in no condition to be standing on my own two feet.

Still, as I let myself lean back into the ropes and the corner post, I tried to think of some options. I couldn’t stay in this corner. Even if Kayla did not see fit to repeat some of her more recent moves, there were no doubt others in her seemingly limitless arsenal that could make me pay for cowering here in this corner. I needed to find a way to get around her, even if that meant sliding along the ropes to another corner.

Kayla seemed to hesitate for a moment, surprised that I had the energy to get back up again. But the surprised look passed so quickly that I nearly thought I imagined seeing it. She was smiling again, never seeming to get tired of looking as if she were having the time of her life. “See?” She slapped my gut with the back of her hand, a quick chopping motion that sounded a dull thud on impact. “If you worked out a little more often, you could get abs like mine.”

She was playing with me, trying to intimidate me while simultaneously entertaining the fans. More ring psychology. Kayla and I both knew my core muscles were pretty well-developed. When I was serious about competing professionally in Tae Kwon-Do, and later when I was in the Army, exercises for my abdominals were my way of killing time. Sit-ups were fun. I wasn’t in the same kind of shape anymore, and my involuntary close-up of Kayla’s mid-section also suggested that her rock hard abs were probably more powerful than mine.

But I am no slouch. The core muscles are vital to a person’s health and physical strength. You can have brawny arms, but a pot belly will ensure that you won’t be able to lift much. Conversely, one can have slender arms and a ‘six pack’ and be able to lift an admirable amount of weight. At the end of the day, all the strength comes from the core. This is why you probably will never find a young private fresh from boot camp or basic training with a droopy gut. The training is intended to develop some kind of six pack, and the duties of the average soldier require one, too.

I could tell that this half of the match would be coming to an end soon. Kayla had moved away from me, standing at a nearby section of ropes to strike a few poses for the Rival Angels audience, both live and televised. She flexed her impressive muscles, putting her biceps on display. After a few quick poses, Kayla turned back to me, seeing that I was watching her, basically waiting to be put out of my misery.

The blonde beauty 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, bringing her arms out slightly to each side of her, and shook her voluptuous bust from side-to-side teasingly. 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 she did not see it as an invitation to employ anything like that stinkface I received from Kat Smith. 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.

Kayla approached, standing a few inches away from me. She was uncomfortably close, making me reflexively back away. Unfortunately, I could not back up any further. The corner post was pressed against my back. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

“Remember how I said earlier that I could probably bench press you?” Kayla still sounded calm, as if she were casually chatting with me about her weight training routines. “Well, I think we’ve proven that. But why don’t we see if I can…”

She trailed off for a moment, tapping a finger to her chin. My opponent seemed to be thinking of an exercise that could be done with a barbell other than a bench press. Of course, it was clear to me that this talk of weights and of exercises was code for wrestling moves. The shoulder blocks, the belly smother, and whatever would come next were all part of the ‘workout’ Kayla had mentioned earlier.

Her blue-grey eyes lit up and a smile spread across her features. Kayla had thought of something. “…Ah, why don’t I use you as a barbell while I do some squats?”

With that, Kayla swooped in to grab hold of one of my shoulders, partially kneeling at the same time. What was going on? What was this? Had Kayla just decided to employ some back-breaking finisher on me? I didn’t think I even knew what her finisher was. In high school, every move with Kayla was a finisher. It also had been the case tonight, for the most part.

I thrashed about, seeking to wrench my body free from this woman’s grasp. No more submission holds. No more pounding in the corner. I would gladly surrender myself to a pin. But my back had taken too much punishment, and I was worried about the risk of injury. I murmured my protests. “No… No more…”

“Don’t worry, big guy. It’ll all be over soon.” Kayla replied, her voice bubbling with excitement again. Despite my struggles, my opponent was effortlessly hauling me off my feet and draping my body across her shoulders.

After a few more moments and a short grunt of effort from Kayla, I was in what seemed to be the perfect positioning. I was draped across her broad shoulders, staring up at the ceiling. I was bathed in white light. It was so bright and blinding, I soon could not have told if I was still staring up or if I had been flipped around to look down at the canvass beneath. The only reminder I had of the way I was facing was the sensation of those firm, flexed shoulders under my back.

She bounced me hard, jostling my body in her grasp, so that her shoulders dug deep into my back. With a toss of her hair, a sigh of supreme satisfaction, Kayla remarked triumphantly, “Too easy!”

The finality of the remark suggested that the expression summarized her thoughts on the match. It also confirmed my suspicions. Kayla saw this move – whatever it was – as the coup de grace, the finisher for this fall. If this did not knock me out cold, there would be another fall for me to endure, fighting for my mere survival and not victory. But Kayla saw this as the beginning of the end for me. It was that tone of voice.

True to her word, Kayla began to practice some squats while she held me over her shoulders. She steadied herself, locked her knees and took in a sharp inhalation. I braced myself, thinking this was the precursor to a devastating hurl across the ring. My mind flashed with images of a Gorilla Press Slam that would take me out of the action for good. But I remained on my perch, safely draped across those powerful shoulders, as Kayla exhaled slowly and deeply, squatting down.

She repeated the manoeuvre, executing two more squats. They were effortless, as if she wasn’t encumbered at all by my 140lbs of weight. Such athleticism! Such power! How was I ever supposed to compete with that?

“Had enough yet?” Kayla asked me, speaking in a way that suggested she wanted me to speak up and let the fans hear my answer. She was getting very excited again, maybe more so than she had been so far in the match.

“Take it easy.” I huffed. “Don’t…” I wanted to say, Don’t get excited! But I wasn’t able to muster much strength, and Kayla decided not to wait to hear my full response. This left me anxious. Kayla could sometimes get carried away with things. In my state… well, I had already been the china to her bull. I wanted to avoid getting smashed into even tinier pieces, though.

Before I could finish speaking, Kayla began to walk us along the perimeter of the ropes. She was flaunting me, showing me off like a huntress displaying a prize she had claimed on an excursion. Finally, Kayla stopped at the middle of one section of ropes, facing out toward the audience.

“All right, boys!” She declared, calling out to the fans theatrically. She was building hype for the big finish. “Better treat your girlfriends right. Or this… could happen to you!”

Suddenly, Kayla’s arms pressed down hard. Her grasp around my neck and leg tightened, as if her hands suddenly become steel. As she had done before, right after she lifted me up onto her shoulders, Kayla bounced my body up and down. My back repeatedly collided with those powerful shoulders. I was being stretched out and crushed at the same time. My body writhed with pain, the punishment more intense than anything I had ever experienced in my life before.

A Torture Rack!

This was a deadly move, used only by the strongest and most powerful wrestlers. I supposed it would be fitting that a powerhouse of Kayla’s calibre would finish off an opponent like me with something like this. But it hurt! Each bounce of those shoulders, each collision of my back, sent a fire along the length of my spine.

It must have only been a few brief moments, but it felt like an eternity. The cheers of the fans seemed to slow down, coming out in a way that made them indecipherable. I think they were chanting her name again. Kayla! Kayla! Kayla! But I couldn’t tell. I couldn’t tell anymore if they were screaming their approval, or if I was hearing the screech of an ambulance siren. Maybe the match was already over. It could be that I was reliving the whole ordeal as they took me to the hospital.

The jostling and the sound of my own voice crying out in pain brought me back to reality. I didn’t hesitate a moment longer. I knew that Kayla could not abandon the move for my sake. She would continue until I tapped out or the referee stopped the match.

So, I frantically reached down and slapped out my submission against one of Kayla’s arms. I kept tapping and tapping, tapping as if my life depended on it.

Ding! Ding! Ding! The bell rang to signal the end of the fall. The chants of Kayla’s name devolved into a cacophonous cheer, the audience enthralled by the lady’s dominance in the ring.

Kayla had soundly one the first fall of her match. After barely five minutes of entirely one-sided combat, I had tapped out my surrender to her Torture Rack. Not a bad start to her career with Rival Angels.

But the match was not over yet. Unless I was deemed unfit to fight – which was a definite possibility, considering the walloping I had taken – then there would still be another match’s worth of fighting for me to endure. The notion of another five minutes wrestling Kayla filled me with the same kind of dread that learning I would have to spend another five minutes wrestling an angry panther would. My high school crush had become a predator of the ring, an unstoppable force of nature.

She let me down from her shoulders gently, which was a nice gesture. The announcement of her victory had seemed to turn Kayla from a single-minded, merciless one-woman army into a sportswoman. As I let myself be laid down on my back, Kayla turned her attention back to the audience in the arena for a few moments. She threw her head back and laughed heartily, “Faaaantastic!” She declared, apparently approving of the match after all. Earlier, she seemed disappointed with my lack of resistance. Now, she sounded as if this match was the greatest thrill. I honestly couldn’t keep track.

As I focussed on slowing down my breathing, Kayla planted a foot on my chest and flexed both her biceps. A victory pose. After a few more, she called out once more to the fans, “There’s more where that came from, folks!”

She had them hooked. No one would be leaving the arena before the second fall had been called. They wanted to see what else this domineering lady was capable of. It wasn’t so much about excitedly wondering who would win the match; it was a matter of excitedly wondering how long the poor guy, Paul, could survive and how Kayla would finish him off. I envied the fans. Had someone else volunteered to be dismantled tonight, I probably would have been in the stands with them, waving around my own sign and getting kisses blown to me. Best part? Not having to suffer through a Torture Rack!

Kayla was offering me a hand up now, her foot having been removed from my chest. The fans were milling about, the referee checking with some support staff. It was the mid-match break. I could relax, work out some of the aches in my body, and get some hydration.

I accepted my friend’s hand and she helped me up to my feet. Standing across from each other, for the first time without needing to size one another up or to fight, we seemed to both flashback to an earlier, simpler time. We were friends again. It was an awkward friendship, but it was a friendship nonetheless.

She smiled softly, not the boastful grin or the proud smirk she sported during the match. “You’re doing great, Paul!”

The words of encouragement seemed bizarre. Was she poking fun at me? Was this a pretext to another taunt? Kat Smith would have done something like that. Were both women really so similar? I smiled back sheepishly, not sure if I was being taken for a ‘ride’. “Really?”

“Yeah, sure!” Kayla at least sounded sincere. “Half the guys in this arena wouldn’t have lasted half as long as you did.”

When I still didn’t look convinced, she continued. “Back in my old fed, we had a promotion kind of like this, where I wrestled a fan.”

I was surprised. How long had she been wrestling on the independent circuit, anyway? “How long did he last?”

The proud smirk returned to Kayla’s face. But that was fine. She was remembering another match, not thinking about what contortions to twist my body into. “I opened against him the same way I opened against you tonight. It was pretty much over after the bear hug. Body splash, pin for the three count, autographs.” She brushed her palms together as if knocking some dust off of them.

“Wow.” It was all I could say. I didn’t want to admit it out loud, but I was thinking that the match could have ended the same for me. Had Kayla dived down onto me, crushing me under her 160lbs of muscle, I wouldn’t have been able to pry myself free from her grapevine pin. But I liked that she was impressed with me, even if I didn’t really deserve it. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Good to see you, too!” She replied, starting to back away to her corner of the ring. Kayla pointed towards mine. “Get some rest! You’re gonna need it. If you’re able to make me work for the win, I might even finish you off this time with something special.”

I hurried back to my corner of the ring, trying not to slump over to the ground on my journey. The prospect of wetting my lips and cooling off with as much water as I needed was alluring, comforting. But there was something that left me uneasy. While I felt like Kayla and I had finally re-connected as friends, I didn’t like the way she said the word special before we parted ways.

If I didn’t forfeit now, what would I be getting myself into during this second bout? What could be worse than a Torture Rack?
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  #7  
Old 08-Feb-15, 20:12
inconcordim inconcordim is offline
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Default Re: Crushed by Kayla

It was a short but tough slog to get to my corner for the mid-match break, but I managed to traverse the distance without falling over myself on the way.

Immediately after I slumped into my corner, a team of professionals set about restoring me to fighting shape. Clearly, Rival Angels had spared no expense in ensuring that I’d be treated well. That was probably just as much in their interests as it was in mine. After all, if I wound up seriously injured in this match, it probably would not be great for public relations. Everyone, from the armchair commissioners online to the sports entertainment pundits on rival channels, would be pointing out how responsible it was to put a fan up against a newly acquired wrestler.

Sitting there, as the people around me swirled about, I was reminded of a NASCAR pit crew. They were all moving about me with such a sense of urgency, not fumbling about in their rush but instead carrying out their tasks with machine-like efficiency. Someone flashed a light in my eyes for a moment, checking to make sure Kayla had not knocked a few screws loose from my inner workings. I could hear some of them chatting about me but I couldn’t seize onto a particular thread from the conversation to follow what was going on.

From their tone, I could surmise that they were concerned about me. I had taken a beating, all right. But I was quite convinced that I had managed to make it through the match thus far without being injured. My whole body was aching, a dull throb of pain encompassing practically every joint. If anything had been broken, I figured it would have felt worse. No, my injuries would be limited to bruising in a lot of places. The recovery wouldn’t involve any hospital visits, just a long shower after this match and a very long sleep to recuperate from the exhaustion.

Of course, the match wasn’t over yet. Depending on what Kayla had in store for the second fall, a hospital visit still might not be out of the question.

The team seeing to me seemed to consider me fit to continue fighting. A thumbs up was given to the referee, and then the group continued making sure I was refreshed. Some muttered advice was offered, but not much of it was of use to me. Keep your guard up. You’re letting her get to close to you. Don’t let her clinch up. They could see I stood no chance. It was clear from the way their advice revolved around ways I could ‘survive’, strategies for prolonging the inevitable. Nothing they said entailed how I might go on the offensive, how I might win this next fall.

I allowed my attention to drift away from my pit crew, looking out at the opposite corner of the ring. Kayla was sat there, relaxing contentedly. It was such a contrast to what was going on in my corner. I had turned up a sweaty, red-faced mess in need of dousing in water to cool down. Kayla had turned up in her corner having barely worked up a sweat from the first fall, lightly dabbing a towel here or there. My team milled about in a rush, as if they were preparing me for a meticulous surgery; Kayla saw quietly, focussing on her breathing. My team had to regulate how much water I drank, so as to prevent me from chugging down more than my body could handle at once; Kayla lightly sipped from a small water bottle, entirely unphased by the exertions of the match.

How much stamina could this woman have? Did she simply live at the gym?

My pit crew had run out of time. The referee gestured for both combatants to return to the centre of the ring, the break now coming to its end. I was feeling much better for the rest. Maybe I had simply needed a few moments without Kayla hammering on me. The water, the massages, all of that had been simply icing on the cake. All I needed was time, though no time was running out for me. Soon, the fighting would begin again.

As I got up and strode toward Kayla, a question turned over in my mind. It was a question that was etched on the referee’s face as I approached, too. It was probably a question the whole arena was pondering, though probably attaching different connotations to it than I was. How much longer could I last? Would I surprise everyone and hold out defiantly for twenty minutes or more? Or would I crumble instantly under Kayla’s opening salvo?

Kayla smiled softly at me as I drew near, still my friend for the moment. As soon as that bell rang, I knew that expression would change and she would once again transform into the most ruthless opponent. Even now, she took up a relaxed fighting stance, a casual form of wrestler’s crouch.

“Ready for another spanking?” She asked, tone playful and competitive more than anything.

I took up my own ready position, assuming what one could call in Tae Kwon-Do a ‘back stance’ or ‘L-stance’. It’s not the most mobile positioning but is arguably the best defensive stance. I anticipated it being my best hope for warding off Kayla’s opening attacks, allowing me to then counter with something of my own. It would be very simple to lash out from this back stance with a round kick to the gut that would give even a powerhouse like Kayla pause.

“Ready to give you a run for your money.” I replied, trying to keep my breathing under control. After the beating from the first fall, I simply could not help feeling inadequate and intimidated. Standing before me was a gorgeous and incredibly capable wrestler, one who had demonstrated that she could break me down fully with minimal effort. Given that, it should be understandable that the anticipation for the start of the second fall left me on the verge of hyper-ventilation.

Kayla leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice to speak to me without having the fans hear anything. “Are you sure you don’t want to forgeit? Call it quits?”

I had considered it. Kayla’s offer made me briefly think on it again. Would fighting in this second fall simply be delaying the inevitable? That seemed clear. Kayla was far out of my league, and likely no one in the world at this point thought me capable of turning the tables on my opponent. Still, forfeiture seemed to be an even greater defeat than losing a second fall in one-sided combat. It wasn’t just a matter of disappointing Kayla, it was a matter of disappointing myself. If I couldn’t stick with it and see this thing through to its foregone conclusion, what kind of person was I?

“No.” I answered. Now it was my turn to smirk, “You’re not that tough, anyway.”

She raised both eyebrows in surprise. Kayla looked a little unsure whether I was being serious about declining to forfeit. Then, when she realized that I was determined to stay in this match, she smiled genuinely at me again. I could sense a growing sense of admiration or respect in her expression. “Well, good luck!”

Someone at ring-side, having heard the last part of the exchange, added, “You’re going to need it, Paul!”

I thought about making a quip, thanking the crowd member for stating the obvious. But then I thought better of it. Why rise to the bait? The audience is the audience. This was an experience to be shared first and foremost between Kayla and I.

Ding! Ding!

Here we go again.
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  #8  
Old 08-Feb-15, 20:13
inconcordim inconcordim is offline
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Default Re: Crushed by Kayla

As soon as the ringing of that bell registers in my mind, I’m off like an Olympic sprinter. Tired of being on the receiving end of all the punishment this match, I have set out to land some blows of my own. Regardless of the final outcome of the match, I want people afterward to say, “Remember when that dude made his quick comeback? That was so cool!”

I lash out with the rear leg in my back stance, sending a round kick surging toward Kayla’s mid-section. The kick is a bit too stiff, and I worry that I may have telegraphed the attack, tipping Kayla off to the need to parry it away.

THWAAAM!

My head reels with a sudden impact, my cheek throbbing with a dull, numbing pain. I nearly lose my balance, sprawling out on the ground. Instead, I stagger back with the force of the blow I unexpectedly received from Kayla, somehow managing to bring my kicking leg back down to support myself.

Kayla had unleashed an immensely powerful left hook right as the bell rang. Her fist cleared the distance between us faster than my kick could. The result was that my attempted comeback was interrupted, all momentum immediately stalled. The round kick glanced harmlessly off her hip, missing its mark as my body reeled with the force of the hook punch.

THWAAAM!

Once more, I floundered about for balance, struggling to keep myself upright. Collapsing now would very likely mean welcoming an early defeat, with Kayla pouncing onto me with an inescapable pin or torturous submission hold. It took all my concentration and skill to keep from crumpling like a paper napkin under the even greater force of Kayla’s right hook. My ears rang with the impacts of the two punches, each barely moments apart.

I was keenly aware of a sense of déjà vu prevailing over this scene. When the match first started, Kayla opened with a pair of punches to my gut, softening me up with a jab and a straight. Afterward, she tore into me with two hook punches that very nearly took me off my feet. Heartbeats into the second fall, no jab or straight had been swung, but Kayla had certainly torn into me with some devastating hooks.

I groaned in pain and despair as the déjà vu only deepened. As I had teetered off-balance, trying to keep from falling onto my back, Kayla had lunged in the remaining distance between us. In a flash, her body was flush up against mine, her well-muscled arms wrapping tightly around my waist. In an instant, she flexed her sculpted muscles, bringing the full might of her upper torso strength to bear against my small frame.

With a sharp inhalation, Kayla 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. Another bear hug!

The bear hug had hurt considerably, taking a lot of the fight out of me early on in the first fall of the match. Now, the effect was amplified. The support team had done their best to help me recover during the break. But the aches brought about by Kayla’s attacks on my back and belly were brought to the fore again by the sensation of her forearms crushing down hard around my mid-section. I gasped and tried to bite back the pain.

“Fell for the old one-two-hug combo. Again!” Kayla laughed, grinning up at me. She seemed so much at ease, as if the bear hug took minimal effort. I expected her face to be scrunched up in effort, for her complexion to turn a similar shade of red to my own. But it seemed as if she regarded lifting me clear off the floor and crushing me into submission to be a casual activity, as simple and effortless as giving me a normal hug.

I thought about offering a pithy response to Kayla’s taunt. I even attempted one. But all the air had been forced from my lungs. I managed a wheeze, then a groan. Nothing would come out. I was being so brutally womanhandled by this amazon of an opponent, I could not even manage a retort to her taunts. I tried to will my legs to obey my commands, thinking that I might be able to kick and flail myself free. But it seemed as though Kayla’s grip on my body was so tight, the signals from my brain could not quite manage to make it all the way down to my feet.

My agony reached new levels. Kayla, bored with simply pouring on the pressure, began to shake my body back and forth, from side to side. My lithe frame jostled and bounced in her arms, each movement making me dizzier and dizzier, each twist seeming to dig Kayla’s forearms deeper into my sides.

Kayla stopped for a moment to adjust her grasp. So spirited had the shaking and jostling been that even her steel-like grasp on me had begun to slip. She seemed worried she might inadvertently drop me or send me flying across the ring. As Kayla moved me back right into the position she wanted me, the blonde bombshell seemed to notice that the bear hug was having a highly potent effect on me.

“Uh oh. You don’t look so hot.” Kayla remarked, her tone halfway between genuine concern and mocking superiority. I had no idea how I looked, but I could guess that I probably looked like a guy who was on the verge of tapping out his surrender in a wrestling match.

Seeing that I was so close to the precipice of defeat already, Kayla reluctantly released the bear hug. I plummeted to the ground, falling from the height Kayla had lifted me to and collapsing down onto my back. A dull thud sounded out, and I allowed myself to lie in a chaotic heap. I could not care less how I looked. Exhaustion was setting in again, and with it came apathy and a resignation to my fate as the defeated party in this beat down of a wrestling match.

Kayla nudged me into position, straightening me out. I was now lying on my back, hands splayed out to my sides, eyes staring up vacantly at the ceiling.

I caught sight of Kayla looming over me, standing at my feet. I turned my head to stare at her. She looked so beautiful. I had been infatuated with her in school, filled with adoration by her looks, her strength, her intelligence, her personality, her spirit. The years we had been apart had refined all of those qualities in her. Kayla might be no supermodel, but I was convinced in that moment that I was looking at the most beautiful woman on Earth.

The moment of tranquility was soon over. She cupped her hands behind her head in one of her showy poses, eliciting cheers from the fans. Then she shook her bust flirtatiously again, much as she had done before mercilessly pounding me in the corner of the ring near the end of the first fall. Kayla grinned from ear-to-ear all the while, telling me that she had something in mind I would not particularly enjoy but would nonetheless have to experience in the coming moments.

“Paul,” Kayla called out to me. “Think of that guy I told you about in the break.”

Guy? What guy?

Then I remembered our conversation about my performance in the match. Kayla had told me I was doing well because few others in the arena would have been able to survive against Kayla as long as I had. She had mentioned how she had wrestled another fan on the independent circuit, finishing him off in practically record time.

How had that match gone? Kayla had said she had opened the same way against that guy as she had opened against me – on both falls. The ‘one-two-hug’ combo had been experienced so far, and it had hurt like heck. What came next?

We were standing together in the mid-match break. She was speaking to me with a look of delight as she described her previous exploits. ”It was pretty much over after the bear hug. Body splash, pin, autographs.”

Filled with dread, I realized what Kayla was trying to communicate to me. But I was too late.

BOOOOOOM!

My body shuddered. The ring quaked. Kayla had landed.

As I had swatted away the cobwebs from my mind, Kayla had taken up a position that looked like that of a diver about to launch off a board into a pool. Then she leapt into the air, just as realization dawned on me. And then her 160lbs of power came crashing down on top of me. A picture perfect Body Splash!

A cheer went up from the fans. The arena became charged with an extraordinary energy. Everyone in the audience was wondering if this was it. Was it over already? Would Kayla win the second and final fall like this?

Kayla tossed her hair, then grinned down at me with an exultant look. She seemed ready to finish me off. But there was a mischievous look in her blue-grey eyes. Something was up, though I couldn’t quite pin it down.

Of course, Kayla had me pinned down. Her body was crushing mine down hard into the mats beneath us. I tried finding some purchase, some weakpoint I could utilize in order to slip out from under my opponent.

Once more, I was too late. I probably would have needed an eternity to have found a weakpoint, though, and still would not have found one. But, in any case, Kayla gave me no time to rally against her. One moment, she was simply lying on top of me, soaking in the cheers of the fans. The next moment, she burst into action, taking quick, precise steps to put me away for good.

She grasped both my wrists, then forced them above my head in one fluid motion. Even as I tried to resist, I felt my muscles immediately give away when Kayla brought her strength to bear. This was not a woman I could ever win an arm wrestling contest against. It was as if I had offered no resistance at all. My arms were simply swept above my head.

At the same time, I could feel Kayla intertwining her legs with mine. With a quick glance over her shoulder, she checked to make sure the grapevine was secured, then pulled my legs apart. My legs were stretched out until I could feel a pull in my groin muscles, a sense that my legs would not be able to spread apart any further without me feeling excruciating pain. I winced and Kayla seemed to decide that this was as far as she needed to spread eagle me.

That was it. The whole process took scarcely more than two seconds. By the end of it, I was held totally immobile in a textbook grapevine pin. Kayla had displayed perfect form in pinning me. In addition to her amazing technique, she has a slight height advantage over me and outweighs me by 20lbs. There would be no chance of escaping this.

It was all over now. Kayla had won.

“This was how I beat him.” Kayla said. I could feel my heart sinking in defeat and also more than a little disappointment.

What bruised my ego was not that Kayla had been able to so quickly and easily defeat me on this second fall. My pride had been wounded by the fact that Kayla had decided to use me to recreate the victory she had over the fan she had previously faced on the independent circuit. It had not been coincidence. Right before the Body Splash, Kayla had told me to think of that guy, to remember the conversation we had shared about him and that match. After the Body Splash, she referred to that match again. Why?

By defeating me like this, was Kayla trying to make some kind of statement to me? Was she saying that, after all, I was just another fan? Or was it that she was recreating that match so that I could share in the experience with her?

Kayla directed her gaze up and out at the audience, smiling at them as they applauded her athleticism and dominance. The referee approached, ready to count me out at long last.

The audience joined in, voices raised in elation at my second defeat of the night.

“One!”

“Two!”

“Thr-!”

To my surprise, Kayla once again spared me from defeat. As the referee’s hand began to come down for the final count, my opponent twisted to the side, raising one of my shoulders at the same time. In one blur of motion, Kayla rolled partially off of my body and pulled my upper body with her. With one of my shoulders clearly off the mat, the referee could no longer consider me pinned.

I was still in the fight! But for how much longer?

Kayla spoke to me again, this time her tone conciliatory and even sympathetic. “But you’re more tired than he was.” The smirk and the competitive tone returned, her guard restored. “And I’m having too much fun with you!”

As my opponent got up fully from me and took hold of me by the shoulders, I couldn’t help but wonder what was in store for me next. If Kayla was having too much fun pinning me down, what might she do to up the ante further? At this point, I would willingly be put through anything but another Torture Rack!
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  #9  
Old 08-Feb-15, 20:14
inconcordim inconcordim is offline
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Default Re: Crushed by Kayla

With a firm grasp on both my shoulders, Kayla whirled me around, spinning me on the spot. Now I was in a seated position, facing away from my opponent and toward one section of the ropes. While the opening salvo of blows from Kayla had knocked me back some distance, there was still plenty of space between the ropes and where I was sitting.

If Kayla intended to apply yet another awful Camel Clutch, there would be no chance of seeking to escape via rope break. The edge of the ring was simply too far away. No, I would be in some especially serious trouble this time around, assuming my opponent was looking to lock me away in some form of submission hold.

I felt Kayla plunk herself down on the canvass behind me, sitting down flush against my back, keeping a firm grasp on my shoulders all the while. I allowed myself for a moment to smirk at the thought that Kayla might have decided to switch tracks, abandoning the beat down for a few moments to give me a nice, relaxing back massage. What else was she planning on doing? Knocking me out cold with a sleeper hold?

My heart skipped a beat when Kayla began to contort my arms, lowering her grasp from my shoulders to my forearms. For a moment, it seemed as if she might be positioning me for the sleeper hold. But then I felt a wash of familiarity, recognizing the positioning she was forcing me into. A full nelson! Her arms reached up under my armpits, her hands pressing my neck down from behind with a palm to palm grip. It placed some strain on my neck and back, with Kayla putting on so much pressure that she seemed to want my chin to dig deep into my collarbone.

It was all rather weird and unorthodox. The full nelson was the mainstay of nearly every playground scrapper. In the military and in Tae Kwon-Do, I had been trained on numerous means by which to escape and counter a full nelson. But I had never seen or experienced one applied while both combatants were seated. How would I get out of this one? I couldn’t trip my opponent, stomp at her feet, or use any of the tactics that I had learned. All my training assumed that an enemy would sneak up on me and apply the full nelson while we were both standing. It was clear that the unique circumstances of a professional wrestling match could lead to scenarios that few outside the industry would ever imagine.

Kayla was not interested in simply wearing me down with the full nelson, though. She had something more in mind, always seeking to push the envelop further. With a start, I felt her thighs snap shut around my mid-section. Right away, the amazon began to bring her full might to bear against me once more. Her legs were worse than anacondas, constricting my body; they were like steel girders fusing shut around me. I attempted rocking from side-to-side in this crushing hold, hoping to pry myself free with the momentum of my movement. No dice. Those thighs held me immobile and sought to crush my diaphragm into nothingness.

Not just a full nelson, in other words. A full nelson with bodyscissors! I groaned as the wind was forced from my lungs for the umpteenth time this match. I had known that Kayla had incredible upper body strength. She had always had that power in abundance. What surprised me now was how immense her lower torso strength was. I was at a loss trying to figure out whether her bear hug had hurt more or if the scissor hold was proving to be more impressive at this stage.

“Can you feel that?” Kayla giggled behind me. I could sense her grinning behind me, a thrilled look likely on her face. In a way, she sounded like an aerobics instructor or a fitness trainer asking me if I could feel ‘the burn’ of an intensive exercise at the gym. It made sense from her point-of-view, I supposed. Kayla had essentially said in the first fall that she viewed the match as little more than a workout routine. From my perspective, the question of whether I could feel the pain of the bodyscissor and the full nelson seemed more preposterous. Of course, I could feel it. I could feel nothing else but the pain and the panic.

At this point, Kayla saw fit to up the ante even further. The scissor hold was making me pant for breath, but she wanted to hear me groan and beg for mercy. She did not want me to go out quietly, a passive defeat. Kayla wanted something dramatic, theatrical for the crowds and decisive in the eyes of those in the Rival Angels locker room. There needed to be no question that she had dominated me thoroughly and comprehensively in this match.

To this end, Kayla began pulsing her thighs. The strength of her scissor hold would subside momentarily, then she would pour on the power anew. The first few pulses were slow, methodical. It was a move that Kayla did not seem to use that often, tending to eschew scissors in favour of moves that made use of her prodigious upper body strength. She liked crushing opponents with her arms, not her legs.

But then the pulses quickened, her muscles seeming to relax and flex instantaneously. The effect was excruciating! The initial, slower pulses had made me moan in pain as my abs turned tender in the vice-like grip of those thighs. But then the fast, hard pulses left me writhing in pain, almost as if I had been hit by a taser. My body rocked involuntarily with the force of the flexing. My hands instinctively went down to Kayla’s knees, desperately trying to pry her legs apart but all my struggles proved futile.

As I began to regain control of my body and my mind pierced through the cloying haze of pain, I thought of alternative escape routes. Pushing and pulling on Kayla’s knees was getting me nowhere. I knew from my training that a good way of securing my freedom would be to go for Kayla’s ankles. She had locked them some distance in front of me, using the crossing of those ankles to help maintain the scissor hold and keep her thighs squeezing around my waist. But I could not lean forward to reach those ankles. Kayla’s full nelson kept my arms feebly dangling at my sides, not able to reach anywhere but down to her knees.

Even if Kayla had left my upper body free and had not slapped on the full nelson, I doubted I would have been able to reach forward far enough, anyway. The dull, aching pain in my gut from the scissor hold made me feel about as flexible as a granite monument. I could not imagine being able to bend down and touch my toes for several minutes after this submission hold. The best I would be able to manage is to roll away from Kayla’s lap and lie on my back, trying to catch my breath again.

This was my constant problem in facing Kayla. I would be full of fighting spirit, but the moment Kayla got me in a submission hold or tossed me around like a ragdoll, my morale would be broken. It challenged all the assumptions I had about fighting and the like. I had always assumed that my smaller stature and light weight were advantages, making me nimbler and quicker than my opponents. Against someone like Kayla, I could dodge my foe’s attacks and gradually whittle him or her down with my own speedy counters. But Kayla seemed to much faster than I, even though she outweighed me by 20lbs. My worldview assumed that she would have to be slower, that I would always have the initiative. Clearly, that was not the case. Clearly, Kayla possessed greater speed, greater power, greater cunning, and vastly more experience and technique.

If I was feeling demoralized and hopeless, it was because I had absolutely nothing working in my favour. Kayla could meet any of my abilities and exceed it with her own.

“How are you holding up?” Kayla asked me, pausing in the pulsing of her thighs to simply crush me in the scissor hold. It felt like being jammed into a trash compactor, my body being crumpled into a ball from every angle.

“Ugh…” I groaned, gritting my teeth to prevent myself from crying out. “Not good…”

Kayla offered me no sympathy or consolation this time. She sounded delighted to hear that I was holding on by a thread. “Great!”

Thankfully, her thighs parted, the ankles no longer locked in front of me. In one fluid motion, her legs disappeared from around me and I could hear Kayla sliding back and away from me on the floor of the ring. There was a slight tremble of the canvass beneath me as Kayla took to her feet, but her full nelson remained locked on. With a heave, I was dragged up to my feet too, along with my opponent.

The surprises kept coming, Kayla never managing to be predictable in this match. Whenever I thought I had an idea of what she was up to, she would do something I never would have expected. It ensured that I was always off-balance, never able to react in time to my opponent’s actions and offensives. This time, the surprise mingled with dread. “How about a suplex? Just for the heck of it!”

I remembered the rolling release suplexes from earlier in the match and how those had added to my suffering, intense pain shooting down my back. Did I want to experience that again? No way! The thought of it alone made me despair. Yet Kayla proposed it in such a playful tone that it sounded like something casual, like if she were offering for us to go for ice cream or something.

I tried stomping on one of Kayla’s feet but missed. I was disoriented and had no idea how she was standing relative to me, given that she still had me in the full nelson from behind. I was frantic and making too many mistakes in my efforts to avoid being subjected to one or possibly more suplexes. While I struggled in vain for release, Kayla shifted her grasp. In one swoop, the full nelson hold was released and both her arms wrapped around my mid-section.

Again, she heaved, her arms digging deep into my tender tummy. For the briefest of moments, it seemed as if Kayla was using the Heimlich Manuever on me. But she hadn’t mistaken my lack of resistance as the result of a choking accident, and it soon became apparent precisely what kind of suplex she had been proposing when she hauled me up off the floor.

In a flash, I was soaring through the air again. I could feel my body ascending, and then the disconcerting vertigo followed as I came crashing back down to the ground.

BAAAAM!

A German Suplex! My back, especially around my shoulder blades, flared with agony again. How big would the bruises there be after tonight? I didn’t want to think about it. But the throbbing would not let me take my mind off of it.

Meanwhile, Kayla had taken up a posture not unlike a back bridge, like some kind of Yoga stretch. I became dimly aware that, as a result of our respective positions after the suplex, I was technically being pinned. Kayla was keeping both my shoulders firmly pressed to the ground, using her body weight and my own to keep me from powering back up to my feet or rolling to the side.

But the referee did not have time to begin counting me out. After only a few moments’ pause, Kayla was hoisting me back up to my feet again. There was a whirl of movement, and I realized that I was now facing the opposite direction to what I had been prior to the German Suplex. Kayla was still standing behind me, though. Her arms were still wrapped tightly around my waist, squeezing me tight enough to belabour my breathing.

“How about another one?” Kayla asked, re-igniting my panic. Not another suplex!

Before I could flail frantically or speak out in protest, she heaved and lifted me clear off the ground once more.

BAAAAAM!

This wasn’t just a German Suplex, it was a Rolling German Suplex! Hypothetically speaking, Kayla could continue hammering me to the ground with suplex after suplex. Knowing her limitless stamina and incredibly strength, I had little doubt that she could probably suplex me for a good hour before tiring of it. Or more likely she would simply bore of defeating me in such fashion. With the Rolling Release Suplex, she had only repeated the move once. Would that be the same this time around? Or how many more suplexes would I have to endure before I either blacked out or Kayla took some pity on me?

My shoulders were pressed to the mats again, Kayla pinning me. We were in the same positioning as before, though facing a different section of ropes this time. Or I thought so, anyway. I was beginning to get dizzy and disoriented, losing track of time and direction entirely. The exhaustion and pain seemed to be wearing down my consciousness, my body considering putting me in stand-by mode, also known as unconsciousness, in order to save what data it could.

The referee had been ready this time, expecting Kayla to repeat the German Suplex and keep me pinned afterward. But as the referee’s hand came down for the count of one, Kayla began to drag me back up to my feet for a third time. I tried my best to resist, digging my heels in and pulling myself down toward the ground as best as I could. But Kayla would have none of it. She was a woman on a mission, and she would not be denied. I would stand, whether I liked it or not.

Reluctantly on my feet now, I was being held up by Kayla’s grip on my body alone. Otherwise, I would have willingly slumped onto the floor. Her arms wrapped tightly around my waist, setting me up for a potential third suplex, I was being held up in a partial standing position. I seemed like a plush toy, slipping from Kayla’s grasp.

“All right!” She beamed, excited by what was taking place. “One more!”

My eyes bulged in shock, not quite believing what I was hearing. Three German Suplexes? Three?! Was she really trying to win this second fall by knock-out? My struggles had been futile, and I had since run out of steam. I pegged my hopes on actively protesting, begging for my opponent to show me at least some mercy. “Please, Kayla! Don’t-!”

She cut me off, chuckling and shaking her head. I had asked for quarter, and that request was being denied. “One more! I promise.” Her word was hardly re-assuring. She had expressed a desire to subject me to only one suplex at the outset. That desire had turned into two, possibly three suplexes. How many more would follow, if she was slamming me to the ground on a whim?

Up I went, gliding through the air, as if the white lights overhead were swallowing me up. In a way, I wished that the blinding light beating down on the ring belonged to an alien spacecraft. If I were to have been pulled up out of Kayla’s arms and drawn into that extraterrestrial vehicle by an unseen force, I would have been relieved. Being abducted by aliens probably involved its own pains and horrors, if one were to believe some of the stories and conspiracy theories. But it would probably be a little less excruciating than wrestling Kayla, whose blows increasingly felt like getting hit with a ton of bricks.

BOOOOOOOM!

I hit the ground with even greater force than I had on the previous two descents. The ring shuddered with the excess power Kayla put into this suplex. I nearly rolled my shoulder to the side, almost breaking the pin myself this time. My hands instinctively reached back, seeking to comfort my sides from the jarring explosion of my impact with the canvass. Absolute destruction – these words did not even come close to describing the experience.

Many in the audience let out a sympathetic gasp or shouted out in surprise. They had seen Kayla hit me with some hard moves in the match so far, but it must have been a particularly good suplex to elicit that reaction. Earlier in the match, I might have felt a pang of pride for my friend, impressed with her skill even as I was the victim of it. Now, I could only wish that she would finish me off soon, made apathetic by sheer exhaustion. It was as if the mid-match break had never happened, the brief dousing in water nowhere near enough of a recovery period from the misery my body had been put through before and since.

As the gasps subsided, a chant broke out in the audience. It quickly came to encompass the entire arena, echoing off the walls and coming from every mouth. “Kay-la! Kay-la! Kay-la!” They were going wild!
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Old 08-Feb-15, 20:16
inconcordim inconcordim is offline
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Default Re: Crushed by Kayla

The referee’s hand came down.

“One!”

But I would not be losing this way. No, I would not be so lucky. Rather than simply maintaining her back bridge and keeping my shoulders pressed down to the ground, Kayla at last released her hold on me. No longer would her arms be wrapped around my waist, squeezing the air out of me like a rubber duck. She picked herself up off the ground, and I instinctively rolled over onto my side to nurse my aching back with a hand.

“Wasn’t that terrific?” Kayla was calling out. I stirred, thinking she was asking me the question. There were many words I could use to describe being obliterated with three suplexes, crashing down to the ground again and again, but none of them would be ‘terrific’. ‘Terrifying’, possibly. And I would not have used the enthusiastic, thrilled tone Kayla used.

Looking up, I could see that she was addressing the audience. One hand on her hip, a bicep flexed with the other arm, she was posing and playing to the fans. They responded to her attention, cheering their approval for her performance so far. One could sense the anticipation building. The audience was hanging on her every word and every action now, expecting a grandiose conclusion to the match to be unveiled at any moment. Any second now, she would see fit to stop playing around with my half-conscious body, employing some elaborate finishing move. The fans had already known for several minutes now what the end result of the match would be – Kayla triumphant, having closed me out of the match entirely with two falls to my zero. But how would it end? What everyone wanted to see was whether I’d be knocked out cold, forced to tap out my submission, or pinned cleanly.

“I hear Paul is supposed to be some kind of ninja.” Kayla remarked, her tone sarcastic. As she spoke, she pointed to the black belt I was wearing around my waist in my Tae Kwon-Do uniform. Some in the audience laughed, amused by the notion that someone who was losing so soundly in this match could be considered a ‘ninja’. “Why don’t we see how far he can stretch?”

That did not sound good. Gritting my teeth, I began to try to crawl away from Kayla. If she kept playing to the fans, I might possibly be able to get back on my feet. At the very least, I might be able to get myself closer to the ropes before this upcoming submission hold, so that I could possibly free myself via a rope break. I had resigned myself to the understanding that this was the only feasible means by which I would ever escape a submission hold from Kayla: by getting the referee to tell her to release me. Once she locked me in her embrace, the only way out was if she decided to let go.

But my crawling did not carry me far. As soon as she had tipped me off to what her plans were – stretching me out somehow – Kayla pounced into action. She turned and grabbed hold of both my legs, her hands snatching me by the ankles. With minimal effort, she flipped me over so that I was lying on my belly. Even though I was no longer lying on my back, I could still somehow feel the canvass bouncing against my back. It was as though even the nerves in my back had been imprinted with the floor of the ring, such was the force of the successive suplexes.

I could feel Kayla moving around above me, adjusting her position for something. She seemed to be stepping over me, still holding onto my legs. The amazon was standing in the opposite direction to which she had faced in applying the Camel Clutch. This time, Kayla faced away from me, in the direction of my feet.

THWUMP!

Kayla sat down hard on my back, making me wince. She came to rest near my shoulder blades, keeping me securely pinned beneath her. Then, with a tug, she brought my legs up and hooked them under her armpits. A burst of pain coursed down my spine as I felt my body crushed and contorted into yet another weird angle. I had no idea how to apply this move myself, having no background in wrestling. But I could recognize what was being done to me: a Boston Crab!

“Hold on, babe!” Kayla counselled, though this was another case of her taunting me rather than offering genuine encouragement.

As Kayla leaned back further, stretching my body even further, I desperately tried to think of some way to spare myself from this fate. While I wanted this match to end, I was not prepared to endure this Boston Crab for long. Already, Kayla seemed intent in making me stretch as far as a circus performer, like a contortionist with Cirque du Soleil. I enjoy a good deal of flexibility, perhaps the only area where my abilities exceed those of Kayla. But I am not able to fold like a lawn hair, and it seemed that Kayla would attempt to make my body do just that in a few moments.

I could not reach out to grab the bottom rope, since we were still some distance away from any of the ropes. Kayla’s suplexes had weaved a line back-and-forth across the centre of the ring. As such, we were still fairly close to the spot where the second fall of the match had begun, with Kayla tearing into me with some heavy-handed hook punches. Salvation courtesy of the referee would not be an option here.

Flailing my legs hardly seemed like a viable option either. Kayla’s upper body strength probably exceeded the capabilities of my lower body. With my legs hooked under each of her armpits, I also could find no leverage with which to pry them free of her grasp. I also could not simply stand up and pull myself away from Kayla, since she was seated firmly on my shoulder blades, keeping the centre of my mass nailed to the ground under her full 160lbs of muscle.

There seemed to be no way out. Driven to the extremes of physical and mental exhaustion by my opponent, I inadvertently expressed what I was feeling out loud. “Too tough… Ugh… She’s too tough…”

Kayla could hear me mumbling behind her. While I couldn’t see much, looking out at the faces of my opponent’s adoring fans beyond the ropes, I could sense that Kayla was glancing down over her shoulder at me. For a moment, she seemed to be listening in to what I was saying while taking stock of my condition. Was I passing out? We were both probably wondering about that.

“Almost done.” This time she sounded genuinely re-assuring, her tone almost sounding apologetic for the punishment she had been dishing out. I got the sense that she would have finished me off earlier, back when she had me trapped in the grapevine pin after the bear hug. But something had over-ridden that, whether that was a desire to impress me, the fans, the management, or some combination of the above.

Thankfully, I felt Kayla get up from her seat on my back. My legs were released, and I did nothing to stop them from collapsing to the ground where Kayla shoved them. I honestly could not care less how I was lying. Anything was better than the contortion my opponent had been folding me into during the Boston Crab. I wasn’t sure if I should be relieved or worried at this stage. On the one hand, I had won myself a reprieve by being released from the submission hold. On the other hand, if Kayla were to be almost done with me, the big finish would be coming up soon.

My mind returned to the fearful thoughts I had contended with before the second fall. What could be worse than a Torture Rack? If this would be the finale, if Kayla needed to defeat me once and for all with a really attention-grabbing move, what would it be? I could imagine few moves more brutal than the Torture Rack I had tapped out to for the first fall. The uncertainty added to my concern.

I was nonchalantly rolled over onto my back, Kayla shoving me into position for something. I tensed up, ready for the end. But it did not come. Kayla strode to the edge of the ropes, and I turned my head to follow her with my gaze. She looked so at home, so suited to the occasion. It was like observing a panther in her natural habitat, effortlessly preparing to strike out at her prey.

She waved for them to hold their cheers and applause for a few moments. She needed to make an important announcement. “He looks pretty beat, folks!”

A certain degree of disappointment crept into her voice, though I wasn’t sure if it was for dramatic effect. Was she jokingly indicating to the fans that she would have liked to have spent longer trouncing me for their entertainment? Or had she genuinely expected more out of me tonight. I supposed that it was not altogether an unreasonable expectation from her. I worked out, I held a black belt in Tae Kwon-Do and actively practiced other martial arts, and I had served in the same military as Kayla. On paper, I should have presented a challenge to my opponent. But the reality was that Kayla’s athleticism far exceeded my own, and the wrestling ring was not at all my element. Not that this mattered, really; I had a feeling that Kayla would have beaten me just as badly if this had been a no holds barred scrapfest in a back alley somewhere.

The fans delivered a mixed reaction. Some cheered their appreciation for Kayla’s handiwork. Others booed presumably because they wanted to see me put through some more of her moves. Kayla allowed the cacophony to subside, waiting for the audience to return to order. She wasn’t finished with the announcement.

Once she had their attention again, Kayla resumed. “What do you say? Is it time for the Ultimate Workout?”

The audience clearly thought so. A cheer went up, echoing louder in the arena than anything I had heard in this place so far. I had no idea what the Ultimate Workout entailed. I wasn’t sure the people in the audience were aware either. Maybe some did from following her career closely, having come to watch this show at Rival Angels because it would be the big time debut of their favourite lady wrestler on the independent circuit. There was also the possibility that the audience had been shown some vignettes from Kayla’s training and early career earlier in this show, long before I could come down to the ring to face my opponent.

Kayla turned her attention back to me, looking quite pleased with herself. This was it. I would be taken out via the Ultimate Workout. Clearly, this was her special finishing move. I had no idea what to expect from her, though. Some wrestlers have special finishers that are obvious in nature based on the name. Kayla’s really could be anything. From the beginning of this match to what seemed to be its conclusion, Kayla had themed her attacks around a workout routine. At the end of a workout is the ‘cool down’, though, not something that seems as intense as a special finishing move. Nothing that would get the audience this hyped, anyway.

“Get ready for this!” Kayla warned me, excitement setting in once more. She swooped down toward me, that trademark victory grin on her face and her blue-grey eyes sparkling with the promise of stardom. I realized that I would be sharing an important moment with my friend – I would witness firsthand her first victory in Rival Angels. I just hoped the experience wouldn’t be too debilitatingly painful.

In mere moments, I felt myself being lifted up. It wasn’t the same as with the series of suplexes earlier. I wasn’t being lifted up to stand on my feet. No, this time Kayla seemed to be moving about me the same way she had done when setting me up for the Torture Rack. Perhaps that was the answer to the question that had been haunting me! Perhaps there was nothing worse than a Torture Rack. Perhaps this ‘Ultimate Workout’ would simply be a special variation on the Torture Rack Kayla had developed in her training.

But there was something different after all about this move. Instead of being draped across Kayla’s shoulders, I felt my body being raised far above them. Instead of staring up at the ceiling, I was lifted with my body facing down toward the ground. This move was no Torture Rack, but I didn’t like how high I was being lifted up into the air. With a running start, Kayla could easily toss me from this perch clear out of the ring, my body crashing down on to the hard flooring surrounding our little combat zone.

A cheer went up from the fans as they marvelled at this latest display of Kayla’s pure physical power. Earlier, Kayla had joked that she could bench press me. Well, she had exceeded that feat now. She had lifted my 140lbs clear above her head, balancing my body precariously above her with both hands. She balanced me there for a few moments, revelling in the experience. There could be no clearer demonstration of her dominance over me.

BAAAAAA-BOOOOOOOM!!!!

This time, the ring truly quaked with the force of my impact. I momentarily blacked out.

One moment, Kayla was holding me above her head like a trophy to her victory. The next, the canvass was rushing up to meet me with blinding speed. Then there was darkness. What must have been only a few moments later, I blinked back into reality.

A Gorilla Press Slam! It had been pulled off beautifully, as if I were little more than a training dummy. Its effect left me in the grey area between consciousness and unconsciousness, not quite sure any longer if I was still in the ring or back at home dreaming about the rest of this match.

“Kay-la! Kay-la! Kay-la!” The chant had come to encompass the arena once more, the audience willing to give themselves over fully to it now that they saw the ending unfolding before them. Now they knew how I would lose. Now they knew the fully story of my conquest by this amazon fighter.

Kayla stood over me, looming at my feet again. She looked amazing in her one-piece bikini, blonde hair spilling down to her shoulders. My opponent, my high school crush, looked a little flushed for once. Maybe the match was catching up with her, maybe this beat down was finally beginning to test her stamina.

The powerhouse of a wrestler was like the definition an end boss to some video game. No matter how hard I had tried, she had beaten me effortlessly. Still, reflecting on it, I would love to challenge her again and again. It was frustrating but enthralling, like seeing the ‘Game Over’ screen countless times, yet still hitting ‘Continue’ in the hope that this next time would be the lucky one. I could imagine us, Kayla and I, both being characters in some wrestling game, guys across the world throwing their controllers around as Kayla smiled at them from their screens after she pinned me, their character, down.

None of that really made any sense. But my mind was wandering between a dream-like state and a keen realization that Kayla was standing over me, not at all a video game boss and fully prepared to dish out some additional punishment on my body.

She paused for a moment, blowing me a kiss with both hands. It was a sign of appreciation for my being a good sport, and perhaps even a way of conveying her admiration for the fact that I had not forfeited and instead fought on in a losing battle. Then Kayla brought her hands to rest on her chest, making sure her bikini was snug and everything in place.

“This one’s for you!” Kayla announced, clearly meaning me this time. She brought her hands up behind her head, then gave a shake of her bust teasingly. I was mesmerized by the flirtatious gesture, understanding why the audience would go wild whenever she had done the same previously in the match.

Without further warning, Kayla launched herself into the air. She seemed to swing back a few steps, then dashed and leapt in one fluid motion. In the blink of an eye, she traversed the remaining distance between us.

BOOOOOOOM!!!

Kayla’s toned body came crashing down on mine, burying my small frame under her 160lbs. Once again, I felt that they would need an awfully big spatula to remove me from the floor of the ring. Kayla had crushed me down hard into the canvass with the Body Splash. It was not the first time I had experienced Kayla’s delivery of this particular move, but this was definitely the most intense Body Splash she had brought to bear against me. So far, the Ultimate Workout was really living up to its name and its hype.

Slightly taller than me, Kayla was able to use her height advantage to her benefit in pinning me down for what seemed to be the final three-count. I could never tell, since she had passed up so many opportunities to pin me for good in this match. But there seemed to be a triumphant finality to her movements this time. In short order, she intertwined her legs with mine, grabbed hold of both my hands and powered my arms above my head.

Another textbook perfect grapevine pin. Just as it was following the bear hug, there would be no escaping this grapevine. If Kayla wished to keep me pinned for the full count, she could do so without any effort. If Kayla wished to toy with me further, then she could do that instead. I was entirely at her mercy.

Embarrassingly, I had wound up in the same position under Kayla as I had wound up in my match with Kat Smith. Given our height disparity, Kayla was not staring down at me eye-to-eye. Rather, my field of vision was encompassed by Kayla’s generous bust. I tried to avert my gaze, blushing and looking out to the side.

Kayla spoke to me, making me turn my head back around to see if I could look up far enough to meet my opponent’s eyes. “Just like old times, huh?”

It was true. This moment was like a flashback to high school. Kayla and I had been the same gym class. During the wrestling module, Kayla dominated the ring, taking on all comers. None of us could beat her. When it came time for me to face her, I had been so nervous. Here, I would be facing off in front of my peers against a girl with whom I was infatuated. I didn’t know how to approach her, but everyone else in the school knew that my dream was to sweep this country girl off her feet.

Instead, I wound up trounced soundly and locked away in a grapevine pin. Everyone was cheering her name, even my friends having rallied behind our class champion. The teacher, filling the role of referee, brought his hand down. They all joined in counting me out, even Kayla’s voice calling out the numbers. “One! Two! Three! Wonderful!” After a quick gulp of water, she was standing at the ropes, asking the class who would have the courage to be her next victim.

So much had changed in the years since, and so much had stayed the same. The thrill of being in the ring with Kayla was fortunately one of those things that had remained constant across the years, not dissipating in the slightest.

“Count him out with me, folks!” Kayla called out, smiling in satisfaction out at the audience.

Yes, so much had stayed the same. The referee began to count out. Seemingly everyone in the audience began to count out. Kayla counted out above me. Everyone in the arena was counting, perhaps even myself. I wondered if the people watching this match live on television would be counting, too. Would my friends be cheering for Kayla tonight, much as they had done when I faced her in school? Would my family be gaping in surprise at the scene on their screens, or would they also be counting along with Kayla?

“One!”

“Two!”

“Three!”

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Game Over. Kayla Wins!

The bell rang for what seemed like ages, echoing in my woozy mind. The counting of the audience was replaced with their cheers. The match was over. I had lost two falls against Kayla, making a third fall unnecessary.

“Wonderful!” Kayla declared, assessing the match in its entirety now. She had said the same years ago, when she had conquered me in class. The déjà vu had been brought full circle. Now all she needed to do is approach the ropes to ask for another challenger; then I suspected some rift would form in the time-space continuum.

But Kayla remained on top of me, not budging from the grapevine pin. A voice came over the loudspeakers, the ring announcer. It was the same voice that had introduced Kayla and I to the audience prior to the match.

“Here’s your winner… by submission and pinfall… the catastrophically beautiful… KAYLA!”

Still, Kayla remained lying on top of me, my hands still pinned above my head and my legs still tangled up in hers. What gives? I had been expecting her to release me from the grapevine pin the moment her victory was announced. Wouldn’t she want to strike some more poses for the fans?

“Are you ready for that something special? Time to show you some love!” Kayla announced, partially to me and partially to the audience. I wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean. I hoped it would mean release, freedom, a break at last from all the punches, suplexes, splashes, stretches, and pins. The audience seemed to once again no more about what was going on than I did. Some cheered, while others whistled.

Staring up, I could see that Kayla was adjusting position. No, that was not right. She wasn’t moving around above me. Rather, Kayla was shaking her bust from side-to-side in that same teasing way she had done before diving onto me for the Body Splash. What was going on here?

THWUUUMP!

With that, Kayla’s voluptuous bust plunged down into my face. It had been the last thing I was expecting. Nonetheless, I was now pinned in a Chest Smother by Kayla. Her chest had encompassed my field of vision earlier when I had been pinned down for the count, now it made breathing impossible and made my face redden from a combination of embarrassment, humiliation, heat, and pressure.

This went beyond the humiliation of the stinkface I had received from Kat Smith in my first match. I found Kat Smith attractive. But I had found Kayla incredibly alluring for years. For my teenage self, this might have been a dream come true. For me at that moment, it was intensely embarrassing. The audience was delighting on witnessing this breast smother, and I wondered what friends and family would be thinking at home. I could sense bulbs flashing across the arena, professional photographers snapping shots of this scene while fans produced cell phone cameras and the like to capture the moment.

“You know you like it!” Kayla exclaimed, her voice jubilant. Part of me did, yes. But a significant part of me was intensely embarrassed and worried that I might pass out under this gorgeous woman’s powerful chest.


This wasn’t the worst of the post-match fate that Kayla had in store for me, however. Wanting to truly drive home her victory, Kayla started to spiritedly shake her chest from side-to-side in my smothered face. The effect literally rocked my world. My face was hammered over and over again by that incredible bust. Left, right, left, right, left, right, up, down, up, down. Again and again, those breasts slammed into my face. Kat Smith’s stinkface truly had nothing on the sheer power and intensity of this breast shake. How could I have ever hoped to prevail against such a dominating woman as Kayla?

Kayla then ceased her grinding to throw her head back and laugh. Even so, with her breasts encompassing my face, even the laugh hurt me a bit, leaving me wondering if I was on the precipice of blacking out right then and there. That mighty bust bobbed up and down in my face as Kayla expressed her satisfaction with her victory. I had a feeling that this would wind up in some kind of Rival Angels merchandise, perhaps my prone form pinned under Kayla adorning a T-shirt or appearing in a Kayla-themed calendar. This thought made my situation all the more embarrassing.

Finally, Kayla’s bust lifted from my face, allowing me to pant for air at last. Shortly after, the victorious amazon got up fully from my exhausted, broken body. She had destroyed me in every way possible. Every joint ached, every inch likely bruised. What was more, my opponent had successfully dominated me physically, mentally, spiritually. From beginning to end, she could have done with me as she pleased. And, well, as the post-match humiliation had demonstrated, she did do with me as she pleased.

“Thanks! That was fun!” Kayla was still ecstatic, hunched over me to offer a hand.

I wasn’t sure how long I would be able to stand or what kind of medical attention I would need, but I accepted her hand without thinking. She hauled me up, then gave me a hug. I flinched, momentarily thinking Kayla would now scoop me up into a bear hug until she knocked me out. But this was a simple hug between friends. She held me there for a few moments longer than would be typical for such a hug.

When we parted, Kayla pointed to me with one hand and gave the thumbs up with the other. “Give a hand to this guy! He’s been a really good sport tonight.”

After being totally destroyed by my opponent, it felt strange to receive applause for once. The audience seemed to find it awkward, too. But a respectable number put their hands together for me, clapping and cheering for the defeated party. It did help with the wound sustained to my ego in this match.

As I began to limp toward my corner of the ring and the concerned looks of my pit crew, Kayla stopped me with a gentle hand on my shoulder. It felt strange for her grasp to be so soft. Up until a few moments ago, Kayla’s grip had been like stone, snapping shut around my wrists to drive my arms above my head for the pin. It seemed strange that the same woman could be capable of gentleness, especially when the acts of violence and of friendship had been separated by mere moments.

I turned to face her. “Congratulations.” I croaked. “You were amazing tonight. If you’re taking applications for Number One Fan…”

She smiled softly, a trace of worry in her expression. Kayla seemed concerned that she had gone a little too far in the match. “You weren’t too bad yourself. Like I said earlier, half the guys here would not have lasted half as long as you did. And probably most would have forfeited in the break.”

I nodded, my way of expressing thanks for her support.

Kayla had something else to add, though. “You are more than welcome to challenge me to a re-match anytime you want.” That was the last thing on my mind at this point. But Kayla knew me. Once I had spent some days recovering from the pounding I had taken, I would probably be itching to get in the ring with her again. Just like that end boss. Kayla’s offer was the ‘Continue?’ screen, and now it was up to me to hit ‘Start’.

But this still wasn’t everything. She couldn’t leave me with a challenge to a re-match. Kayla is a wrestler, and a damn good one at that. But she is also a lady. “And you can buy me drinks in an hour.”

Now it was my turn to grin from ear-to-ear. I already felt hungover from the match. But I could never pass up the opportunity to catch up properly. A lot had happened in the years we had been apart. Kayla was right – we could not just leave our reunion to a wrestling match.

I began shambling toward my corner like an old-fashioned zombie. If I was going to be ready for a night out on the town in an hour, I needed to rush. But my body was no longer in a compliant mood, protesting against each step. “See you soon!”

Exhausting and exhilarating. This was what it was like to be crushed by Kayla.
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