From champion to jobber - the final acceptance of he inevitable

[lowblow emma]

The Dark Angel pranced around holding aloft the championship belt that I had carried so proudly into the ring at the start of the fight, leaving me to watch from my corner, where I was slumped against the ropes. My bra was ripped apart, leaving my tits dangling, and my pants torn so badly they barely covered my crotch.

I’d known that I was going to lose, that was pre-arranged, part of my contract with the promoter, but I had no idea that it would end like this. Ex-champs can come back and regain their title or have a good career just below championship level. Not me, though. In less than three quarters of an hour I had fallen from champion wrestler with a stellar career and a reputation as the darling of the circuit. And not only had I fallen, I had been thrashed and trashed so comprehensively that the only future left was as a jobber.

That was bad enough, but DA as she was known to the chanting fans who followed her every fight had more in store for me. She handed the belt to her second, as he passed something to her. Then she strode across to me, took hold of a fist full of my hair and pulled me into the centre of the ring, where she forced me onto my knees. Then she revealed what she was carrying. A leash, a dog’s leash.

‘Time to give this bitch some real exercise,’ she shouted to the cheers of the crowd, including many who had cheered just as loudly for me when the fight began.

She slipped the noose over my head and set off around the ring, dragging me behind. Every time I tried to get to my feet, she jerked me down onto my knees. Eventually she rolled under the ropes and dragged me out of the ring behind her as she set off for the dressing rooms, with me scrabbling on all fours behind her. The last the crowd saw of their former champion was the sight of her tits swinging just above the floor and her bare buttocks waggling in the air.

I knew that this was not the end of my humiliation, but before I come to that you need to know how I found myself in this position.

 

[lowblow emma]

I waited just out of view ready to make my entrance, as I listened to the nubile Mistress of Ceremonies introduce the challenger. She spun around for the cameras to pick up the way her black skin-tight leggings and bulging white silk blouse revealed as much of her body as if she had been naked, before bringing the microphone to her lips in a manner that must have caused every hot blooded male in the arena to cum on the spot.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the Dark Angel, new to our circuit, but already with a reputation that entitles her to challenge for the title.’

We’d met before, just once, at the start of DA’s career. Back then she was embarking on her professional career and was put up against me as a seasoned performer. Standing just over 6 feet, carrying a lot of weight, and fighting under the name of Tigress. Her real name was Alyson Connelly and I was her first professional opponent. She was strong and heavy. I knew that if she ever caught hold of me, she would crush me and I’d have no chance of escaping from a shoulder pin. But I was agile and better technically than her, so I was able to keep her at bay and pick my time to take her out with classic wrestling moves. She didn’t stay around long and moved across country, where she made a name for herself before being spotted by a promoter and brought back to fight me for the title.

She’d changed a lot since then. Just as tall and just as heavy, except now the weight consisted of solid muscle rather than flab. She gained a lot of experience, but she still lacked, as she had back then, a good grasp of the basic wrestling techniques. I was confident that in a straight fight I could and would win. But that was not to be. That was not the way our contracts were written or how the powers that be in the wrestling world had planned our futures.

As I watched her on the big screens, I had to admit that she looked good. Her dark skin gleamed under the lights, set off by the glistening white of her shorts and tank top. Strong thighs, tight high ass, small tits, and close cropped hair. She had the arrogance of someone who knew the odds were stacked in her favour.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome now the reigning champion, Carla Campion.’ My name had been chosen at the beginning of my career to convey hints that, with the addition of one little letter, it might foretell my future. Which it did, which was in no small part due to my proficiency at giving head to the promoter. I hadn’t lost my touch in that department, but I had lost the promoter to retirement with an accomplished jobber in Florida.

The crowd exploded in cheers, reaching out to touch me as I strode down the aisle with my champion’s belt slung over my shoulder. I vaulted over the top rope to demonstrate that, even in my mid-30s, I was still as fit as I had ever been. No one had ever seen DA perform like out. I acknowledged the crowd and marched around the ring, holding my belt aloft, for what I knew would be the last time, savouring the moment. Letting the crowd contrast my pure white skin and the soft red jersey of the two piece outfit that clung to every curve of my ass and pussy and struggled to provide adequate support to my oversize rack. Looked at objectively, I had put on some weight, but that was only to be expected at my age, and I could still perform, in the ring and in the sack.

As I sashayed past DA, she hissed at me. ‘Enjoy it while it lasts, sister, you won’t be so proud when you leave the ring.’

I was saved from having to find a sharp retort by the announcer.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, as this is by way of being a special contest, there are some special rules. The title will go to the fighter who secures three falls, three submissions or one knock out.’

The crowd gasped. This was not the usual two falls or submissions or a knockout that decided the winner. They knew already that they were in store for something different tonight. Little did they know just how different it would be.

The bell rang and we stepped to the centre of the ring.

 

[lowblow emma]

The bell rang for the start of the first round and the referee stepped back from the centre of the ring. This is normally the signal for some initial skirmishing, each fighter sizing the other up, making some teasing moves to test their reaction. Not this time. DA moved in, one arm round my neck and other between my thighs, and lifted me off my feet to hold me against her chest. Then she hoist me above her head, like she was pressing weights in the gym. She held me for a while as she turned slowly, showing off to the crowds on all sides and pausing for the best camera shots on the large screens around the arena.

Then she set off at a trot around the ring, lowering me to her shoulders before lifting me aloft again. More showing off and draining her energy in the process, although she had plenty to spare. Just when I thought she was getting bored with this, she tossed me in the air, catching me as I fell, repeating this over and over. When I came down for the fourth time, her fingers slid under my shorts and clenched my ass. Just chance, I thought, until she tossed me again and caught me the same way, except that her fingers were now in my cleft, uncomfortable close to my back door. On the next toss, a finger slid right into my hole.

‘HEY’ I screamed but DA just laughed.

‘Ha, don’t make such a fuss, you know you like it. That’s what Gary says.’ Her finger was firmly embedded and moving around now.

Gary, my ex-promoter’s account, and my ex-lover. Gary who had a fetish for anal and assumed, as guys often do, that that meant I would enjoy it too. Without bothering to ask, naturally.

‘BASTARD’ I screamed again. Even I wasn’t sure whether I meant DA or Gary.

To my surprise, DA slowly lowered me to the canvas and gently removed her finger. ‘I’ve got a nice big dildo for after the fight, little baby, just the right size for your flabby ass.’ She bent and grinned in my face.

OK, so I had got the message. She was going to toy with me, humiliate me. And I was going to have to take it. Right, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t allowed to fight back. I edged a few short steps towards the ropes, as if trying to sidle away from her. then I squatted and quickly leapt into a flying drop kick that landed on the point of her chin. She staggered and shook her head, but stayed on her feet. Her eyes blazed as she glared at me, but I failed to recognise the danger signal before her fist shot out and took hold of my throat, lifting me off my feet as she ran towards the nearest corner, crashing me into the post and ramming me hard, again and again.

Winded and battered, I had nothing to give when she took hold of my shoulders and fell back, lifting her feet into my belly and tossing me over her head to smack into the canvas. I knew what to expect next and instinct took control as I rolled to one side just in time to miss her body landed where I had lain a second earlier. We both scrambled to our feet together, just as the bell rang. I had survived the first round.

 

[lowblow emma]

Round 2 and I came out fighting. There was no way I was going to be played with like a toy. OK, she had to win, but I wasn’t going to let that happen without a fight. I was across the ring in a flash and into a flying drop kick before DA was barely out of her corner. It landed on her upper chest and sent her staggered back, more in surprise than anything else. I was up on my feet before she could regain her composure and launched a second drop kick that caught her on the chin. She stumbled sideways and I threw all my power behind a third, this time aiming at her tits, or what passed for them in her case. I hit her nipples with my heels and she immediately grabbed them for protection. Taking advantage, I threw my body up across her torso, forcing her back onto the ropes. With her height and with my position across her chest, I was able to force her backwards over the top rope.

This was going better than I had planned. Trouble was, what to do next? Best case scenario, topple her out of the ring. Likelihood of success, low. But at least I could show up her lack of technical skill and weaken her back. I had the advantage for so long as I could keep her arms trapped against her tits. But she had enough sense to realise that and was struggling to free them. As soon as they were free, I wrapped my arms around her left arm and my legs around her right, trying to prevent her from using them to throw me off. And I was doing well, for a time.

The crowd was silent now. To everyone’s surprise, this had become a trial of strength with me on top, literally. Then she started to blow. Sucking in great gulps of air to fill her lungs and get the oxygen flowing around her body. Rejuvenated, she used her weight to force herself upright. I could feel her body straining and feel her sweating from the effort. Finally, she had her legs under her weight and I had lost the advantage. The outcome was inevitable.

She knew what she had to do, just as I did. I had gambled and lost. I tried to let go before she could fall forward with me clinging to her. I almost succeeded, but she managed to get hold of my pants and bra so that she could carry me down to the canvas, crashing on top of me and knocking the wind out of me. my ears were ringing as I heard the ref counting out – ONE, TWO, THREE – even then DA did not move.

One fall down, but she had been weakened by the effort to escape from my manoeuvre. She took her time climbing to her knees, but she did not move back. Instead, she used the ropes to lever herself to her feet and stood over me. The ref muttered something about standing clear, but without much hope that she would take any notice.

She swooped before I had a chance to move, clamping hold of my tits with her huge paws and lifting me in the air and shaking me. I cried out, tried to break free, but she had too good a hold. Even with the time keeper frantically clanging the bell for the end of the round, she carried on until the fabric finally split and she lost her hold.

I was left lying in the ring with a bra that was still held together by a few threads and tits that felt like a herd of elephants had trampled over them. I had just reached my corner when the bell rang again for the start of another round.

What next?

 

[lowblow emma]

Dark Angel stood in the centre of the ring, waiting for me to make my way towards her. My body ached and I was still winded, but I could not give up. I would not allow myself to give up. NO WAY. NO FUCKING WAY.

Just before I reached her, she moved with the unexpected speed that some big women have. Before I could back off, she had hold of the sides of my hipsters and had lifted me off the canvas and brought me down again, then again. I could feel the cotton straining as it took my full weight across my crotch. Third time I was airborne but this time she dropped onto one knee and brought the base on my spine down on the other.

ARGGHHH

My whole spine shook, one vertebra at a time. my brain tried to work out where this was leading. Weakening me up for a backbreaker. That was my first thought before my brain went into wipe-out as the pain signals flooded through. As that cloud cleared, I found myself already airborne for a fourth time. Expecting more of the same, I prepared myself mentally, but she shifted position. I came down again with my full weight, but this time on my clit.

FU-U-U-U-CK-CK-CK-ING-G-G-G BI-IT-ITTT-CCCCHHHH

I spat out the words, spraying her face with saliva, but she just laughed in reply.

DA let go of my shorts and pushed me backwards onto the canvas, catching my feet and spinning me onto my chest. Classic move next – she must have been taking lessons – knee in small of back, using my arms to pull my shoulders back and chest off the canvas, bending me as far as my spine would allow, applying all her weight through her knee to weaken that spot. No hope of a submission, but a sign of what she had planned. Head spinning, spine aching, crotch stinging, all I could do was hold on as she rose to her feet to stand on my back and use her height to bend my spine further.

And then, suddenly, relief as she released me. When I opened my eyes, she was climbing the ropes ready to launch herself off the turnbuckle and crush my back under her weight. I had only one hope. As soon as she had committed herself to the jump, I summoned my strength and rolled so that, as she came down, I was able to raise my knee. It was too late for her to change the trajectory. She knew her fate and could not avoid it. She landed with a crack that could have been my knee cap fracturing but just as easily it could have been her clit snapping in two.

She slid off my knee, landing on her back and kicked her feet hard into the canvas, before rolling onto her belly and desperately clutching her crotch. I rolled clear and used the ropes to help myself back onto my feet. She hadn’t cried out, but the agony was written all over her face as the cameras posted her suffering on the large screens. Tempting though it was, I couldn’t just stand there and watch. This called for a follow up. I knew I didn’t have the weight advantage to pin her and she wasn’t weakened anywhere that I could get a submission. In the end, I dropped beside her and bundled her under the ropes and out of the ring. Not a particularly elegant wrestling move, but a nice touch of humiliation. No points scored, but honours even.

Bring on the next round.

 

[lowblow emma]

Round 4. We were both hurting. Physically, from those crotch shots. Mine had been a while ago now, but I was still experiencing the odd spasm. Hers was only a couple of minutes ago and had been much harder. But she was bigger and tougher. Did women like that feel the same pain between those trunk like thighs? I have often wondered, but there was no doubt about this woman – her whole demeanour told me she was still suffering. For a moment, I almost felt sorry for her, almost.

And this wasn’t just physical. We had both suffered humiliation already in the bout. Me because of my status as champ, she because of her size. I knew that the ultimate humiliation awaited, because I was destined to lose. But she didn’t have to put up with shit like this.

We circled each other, neither wanting to risk opening themselves for an attack. One of us had to make the first move and I decided it should be me. I rushed across the ring and bounced off the rope, hoping she would do the same so that I might have a chance as we passed in the centre of the ring. But she didn’t play ball. Maybe she didn’t want to waste energy. But I still had a chance. My momentum would give me an advantage to compensate for my lack of weight. So I just threw myself onto her, hoping to take her off balance.

And, to my surprise, I did. She staggered back, and fell with a crash, with me atop her, trying as hard as I could to force her shoulders down. She grunted and groaned, but each time the ref got to TWO she managed to lift a shoulder just high enough to deprive me of a fall. Was it my imagination, or had I sapped her strength at the end of the last round. Or was she just playing with me.

I’ll never know which it was, because I suddenly found myself airborne, lifted on two bulging arms, before being tossed aside like a towel after a shower. I rolled away to protect myself from a follow up, but nothing came. She just stood up and waited for me to get on my feet before stomping over to me, picking me up by the waistband of my hipsters and lifting me over the ropes.

And then she shook me, twisting the elastic, bouncing me up and down like the shorts were some kind of bungee rope. The crowd were laughing and clapping in time with each rise and fall. And the harder she shook me the more my tits bounced until the torn bra was no longer able to support them and they flew out. Cheers now and whistles and camera flashes.

This could have gone on for the rest of the round, but she stopped and lifted me back into the ring and placed me delicately on the canvas. I barely had time to steady myself before a ham of a fist smashed into my left tit, sending me staggering backwards only for her to follow me and repeat her trick with my right tit. Both tits, right on the nipples, crushing them like a truck driving over them.

‘UUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH’

Next thing I knew, she had me by the ankles, hauled me back, toppled my onto my back and spun me round, so I was face down.

I knew what was coming next. So did the crowd. So did the ref, who was down beside me waiting for me to submit.

Her full weight landed in the small of my back, as she pulled my legs up and leaned backwards. My tits were taking most of the pressure now and the bottom of my spine felt like it was going to crack.

‘You don’t have to take this.’ The ref was right, I didn’t. But I had to, for my own pride if nothing else. I got my hands under me and tried to lever myself up. Don’t ask me what good it would have done if I had managed it, but I couldn’t, not with so much power holding me down.

‘No, no,’ I shouted, shaking my head, ‘no, never.’

Brave words, saved by the bell.

End of the round. End of me, pretty much. DA knew I was weakened and she was content to wait for the next round to apply more pressure. My second rushed over applied a cold sponge and leaned down. ‘Shall I throw in the towel?’

My reply was not printable.

 

[lowblow emma]

By the time the bell rang for the next round, I had made it into my corner and got myself upright, with a little help from my second. I looked a mess. My bra was in shreds and was useless to support my tits. My pants were in better shape but only just.

The bell had barely finished ringing before Dark Angel had grabbed me waist, twirled me round her waist, then up and around her shoulders, before heaving me into the air and dropping me onto her raised thigh. I howled as the small of my back caught the point of her knee and I rolled onto the canvas landing on my tits.

I had no illusion that I would be allowed to recover. And I wasn’t proved wrong. in a trice, DA had me by the ankles and was swinging me around as she spun in the centre of the ring. The only thing in my mind was where would I land when she let go and how badly. Anything I tried would likely make things worse for me, so I just had to hang on in there and protect myself as best I could. I was spinning around the height of the middle rope when she let go. Was it skill or just chance? Who knows and I certainly didn’t care. But I flew into the corner post, luckily catching my side more than my back, but that didn’t really help me; it just spread the pain a bit further.

My arms had reached out and grasped a rope to ease my fall to the canvas, but my feet were free and DA took hold of my ankles and jerked me clear of the ropes. Her feet were quickly entwined around mine and her hands were twisting my wrists and pulling my arms back, as she rocked back and forth. Soon she had hoist me into the air, reverse sur board. Forcing my legs wide to display my barely covered pussy, pulling my shoulders hard back causing my back to arch just at its weakest point. And then she began the shake, rattle and roll, relaxing the hold slightly and before jerking me back into the hold. Pain, strain, snatched glimpses of my open thighs on the huge screens around the arena, cheers from the crowd, plaintiff appeals by the ref to spare me more pain, my second standing on the apron holding a towel. My head was shaking, but even I didn’t know whether I was refusing the ref’s invitation to submit.

And then the chanting began. Just a few voices at first, then a chorus, that became a wave.

‘JOBBER, JOBBER, JOBBER’

That was what I had become. And then another word. Weak at first, but suddenly finding strength.

‘Yes, yyyy-eeee-sssss, YES YES YES.’

I had submitted.

Dark Angel had the grace to lower me gently to the canvas and release her hold.

She was one fall or submission away from being champion.

I knew what I was. Broken.

 

[lowblow emma]

I literally crawled across the ring and hauled my by the ropes onto the stool that my second had pushed into the corner for me. The only strength I could summon was to rip the towel from his hand and throw it into the crowd. Loud cheers. They roared their approval because it meant the fight was not over. Well, to be honest, the fight was over, but there was still the massacre to contend with.

Dark Angel began where she had left off. She picked me up like a child and slung me, face up, over her right shoulder, my legs dangling behind her, my head on her belly, from where she proceeded to toss me into the air to land on my back across her shoulder. And all the whole parading around the ring. Soon she bored of that and tossed me on my back across the top rope, pulling it to and fro across my lower back, before dropping on top of me and forcing my flesh onto the rough rope.

I hadn’t the strength to call out my agony or the energy to resist, let alone fight back. The ref should have stopped the illegal use of the ropes, but made no attempt to do so. If she didn’t know the game plan to begin with, she had surely worked it out by now. Eventually, the Angel tired of getting nowhere with her top rope trick and began bouncing on the rope, waiting for me to be thrown off. It was literally a toss up whether I would fall inside or outside of the ring. I tried to use my weight to engineer a fall within the ring, where the landing would be softer, but no such luck. After bouncing precariously for a while, I felt myself toppling out of the ring. In a frantic move, I made a desperate grab for the Angel’s bra. I caught hold, and she tried to prevent it coming over her head, but she was too late and my momentum too great, I landed in a heap on the concrete floor with her bra in my hand.

The crowd roared its appreciation and the cameras zoomed in on the topless Amazon, her face a picture of hate, her lips snarling abuse. She flew out of the ring at me desperate to retrieve her clothing first and then turn on me, but I flung the bra into the crowd and, as she dived after it, took advantage of the chance to roll under the bottom rope. By the time she was clambering back into the ring, still topless, I had regained enough strength to land a quick drop kick, right on the point of her chin, which knocked her back, hitting her head on the turnbuckle.

I threw myself on her, grabbing her legs, pulling them over her shoulders, and throwing all my weight onto her. Still dazed, she seemed unaware of the count.

ONE – TWO – THREE.

I climbed off her and threw her legs aside before she realised. By then the bell was ringing and I had a chance to recover before the next round.

2:1 against me, but my pride was restored and I had shown her that this was not going to be the walk over she expected.

Even I had to admit that she looked magnificent standing in her corner, shaking with fury, her body glistening with sweat, wearing only her white shorts, and glaring at me.

 

[lowblow emma]

Angel met me in the centre of the ring with a flurry of forearm smashes across my chest and chin, sending me reeling backwards with each blow until I found myself against the ropes with my back arching again as she maintained her assault. Then a sudden change of tactics as she grabbed my wrist, pulled me off the ropes, spun and flung me across the ring. I bounced off the ropes to be clotheslined with a forearm across my throat, which halted my progress and sent me sprawling onto my back. I was barely back on my feet before she had sent me spinning across the ring. I bounced back prepared for another clothesline, but this time she ducked under me as I approached and rose as I collided with her, sending me flying over her shoulder to crash onto the canvas. The next time, it was a drop kick. Then a forearm across the chin. My brain was working furiously as it tried to fathom her tactics. Then, as my spine jarred as it collided with a corner post, it came to me.

She was avoiding any close contact action in which she might be caught unawares, as she had at the end of the last round. Weaken me first before moving in. That was it. I almost screamed in surprise and delight.

ANGEL WAS AFRAID OF ME, SHE WAS KEEPING HER DISTANCE, RELUCTANT TO TAKE THE RISK OF ANOTHER HUMILIATION.

Surprise and delight, but not hope. I would need strength and stamina to take advantage of this. And she was superior in strength and, despite all the energy she was expending, my stamina had drained away until there were just a few drops left. I would have to find a way to make best use of whatever reserve I still had.

But this was all a dream, short lived, before her full weight crushed me into the corner. Next thing I knew, her hands were behind my neck, her feet were in my belly and she was falling backwards, lifting me and throwing me head over heels. I saw the ring lights above for less than a second before the world went dark as she dropped with her knees on my shoulders.

ONE

Shit. With her crotch in my face, I could barely breath.

TWO

Then I had my brainwave. I opened my mouth and snapped my teeth onto the plump flesh of her labia.

ARGH!

She shot up fast allowing me to free my shoulders and grab hold of her pants, pulling them down to her knees. With her tangled up in her shorts, I squirmed away.

The crowd were cat calling and whistling as she fumbled to restore her modesty. Not that she needed to bother. Unlike her excuse for a pair of tits, her pussy was lush and ripe, well worth the closeup that was filling the screens.

By the time she was suitably attired again, I was well out of reach on the other side of the ring. Humiliated again, she did what every second rate fighter does – she lost her cool. Rushing after me, flailing out with revenge blows that would have flattened me if they ever landed, which they never did. Apart from a few glancing blows, I spent my time looking for an opening. Eventually one came. Carried by her own momentum from another missed forearm, I found myself behind her and a quick tug on the waistband of those shorts sent her toppling back, rolling fast enough for me to get her legs over her shoulders and my weight on top of her.

ONE

Yes, I had her, I could feel it.

TWO

In just a second, literally one second, we would be even, 2:2.

And then the bell rang. End of the round. Dream shattered. Fuck.

 

[lowblow emma]

‘Whatever happens,’ my voice was urgent in my second’s ear, ‘don’t throw in the towel. If you do, I’ll rip your balls off.’ He knew I meant it.

I knew what was going to happen. Angel was going to destroy me, annihilate me totally and completely. And there was nothing I could do about it, nothing at all. Except to endure it. To resist at all costs the temptation to submit. She could knock me out cold if she could. She could overwhelm me with her power to pin me down if she wanted. But I would not give her the satisfaction of giving in. And she did want that satisfaction. I could smell it.

We met in the middle of ring. I saw a blur and felt a stinging blow to my face that spun me around. Next thing, I was over the Angel’s knee and her huge hands were raining blows on my ass, each blow landing hard on the pain of the one before. I kicked and wriggled but her other hand was holding me down by my neck.

Then I was air borne, being carried across to the ropes, where Angel placed me delicately down on the apron outside the ring, her face forced up against mine.

‘When this over, you’re going to kiss my cunt and lick my ass, and then I’m going to show you what a good hard fuck is like when its delivered by a woman with a full set of balls.’

Right, well that was clear, and she had already threatened me with a dildo later. How was I to reply to a message like that? Fortunately, I was spared the trouble of thinking about it, because she shoved me off the apron and pointed to the exit.

‘Save yourself a lot of pain, Carol, and just walk away. You know where my dressing room is.’

I knew, but I wasn’t going there. There was only one place I was going and that was back into the ring. But getting there wasn’t going to be easy. Every time I put a hand on the apron, she stomped on it. Every time I tried to climb through the ropes, she kicked me away. But that is a dangerous game to play with a seasoned pro like me. I waited my chance and then grabbed her foot, yanking her off her feet and trying to pull her though the ropes. I failed to get her out of the ring, but succeeded in getting her tangled in the ropes, leaving me free to slip round to the side and roll under the ropes. When I looked again, her right foot was caught between bottom and middle ropes leaving her hanging upside down. She struggled but failed to scramble back. The crowd, sympathetic at first, was now laughing at her efforts. In the end, the ref prised the ropes apart, allowing her to drop somewhat less that gracefully to the floor. I stood clear as she climbed cautiously back into the ring, not giving her a chance to pull the same stunt I had just used on her.

And then the onslaught began. Blows rained down on me from all directions as she flailed her arms at my head and chest. A lot missed completely. Most hit me with powerful but glancing blows. A few hit me hard in the most delicate spots, like my nipples or around my eyes, leaving blood dripping from cuts to run down my face and chest. Then she threw me around the ring, into the ropes, tossing me over her shoulder as I bounced back, into the corner posts, trapping me and pummelling me with blows, slamming me onto the canvas again and again, but never making an attempt at a submission or a fall. This was punishment, humiliation, revenge. A connoisseur would say she was weakening me, but that would be generous, but DA was not a sophisticated fighter. She was just a bruiser. And I would have the bruises to prove it.

It was long, though, before she returned to her signature move. Hoisting her opponent over her head and tossing her up and down. Which if you remember was where this fight began, however many rounds ago, and she still had the strength to do it. She was just warming up.

 

[lowblow emma]

It’s been a long time coming, this final posting. Not because the fight wasn’t over, but because I couldn’t bring myself to put down on paper what happened. It was certainly not the ending I had anticipated, although I had played in my head what I thought had to be every possible scenario.

The actual ending, of course, was written before the fight began, written into my contract and signed by me.

The end, though, that was up to Dark Angel and to me. And I had no intention of just letting DA walk away with an easy victory. If I was going to transition into a jobber, it would be because she had shown that she was better than me, not because I had just given in. No way do I just give in, not yet anyway, that’s for my new life.

In the end, the fight degenerated into a power play. She used every power move in the book and a few more besides. I was variously treated as a punch bag trapped in the corner or against the ropes, as a rag doll to be thrown away the ring, as a ball to be tossed in the air.

I could sense her desperation. Whatever she tried, however much effort she exerted and whatever the power she deployed, I was still able to resist submitting. She moved things up a notch then, but still no luck. Weakening move are fine, but they are no good unless they lead to a submission or a knockout. And she just wasn’t getting that. In the end, it looked like she might collapse from sheer exhaustion. This was now a contest between stubbornness (mine) and stamina (hers). The referee squatted down beside me, her thighs spread to reveal the dampness between them. She was getting off massively at my humiliation.

‘Give it up,’ she pleaded, ‘you know you have to.’

But all I could do was shake my head.

My chance came, or so I thought, when DA threw me across the ring. By sheer luck, I was at just the right height to sail between the top and middle ropes. I landed in a heap, clambered to my feet, began to stagger towards the dressing rooms, collapsed, and continued to crawl. Dark Angel followed me at first, setting up a chant.

‘JOBBER, JOBBER’

The crowed joined in, clapping to the rhythm.

‘JOB-BER, JOB-BER, JOB-BER’

I thought she would just let me leave, but no way. I was about half way to the back of the arena when she took hold of my left ankle and began to drag me back to the ring. I didn’t have the strength to climb back into the ring but she managed to haul me to my feet, bundle me under the bottom rope and roll me into the centre of the canvas.

As I lay on my back, I heard cheering, but didn’t know what it was for, until DA loomed over me, her sweat-stained shorts round her knees, and squatted over my face, leaving me staring at her backside.

‘Kiss my ass,’ she shouted so loud I could hear it above the roar of the crowd.

There was nothing left to do, but close my eyes comply.

JOBBER – JOBBER – JOBBER