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lowblow emma
Star
- Joined
- Sep 21, 2013
- Location
- London
I’d been getting the same message from everyone, so it was time to sit up and take notice.
My partner was, naturally, concerned with his own pleasure.
‘Face it, Wendy, you’re getting damaged in every match. After that last one, we couldn’t fuck properly for three weeks.’
I didn’t mention that I was the one who was too sore, but that he’d expected me to give him hand and blow jobs and let him do anal.
‘Isn’t it time you gave up wrestling and found something safer?’ he asked.
My doctor was, naturally, concerned with my health.
‘Face it, Ms Griffiths, there’s no knowing what damage you may be doing. With the injuries you’ve sustain during your years in the ring, you may find soon that sex becomes painful all the time and it may already be too late to have children.’
I wasn’t interested in having children, but I knew at least one person who was interested in having sex. OK, make that two.
‘Isn’t it time you gave up wrestling before you do any more damage to yourself?’ she asked.
My agent was, naturally, realistic.
‘Face it, Bella’ – that’s my professional name – ‘you’re past it. You’ve lost your looks, you’ve put on weight, and the only reason I can get bookings for you is that the crowd like to see you get thrashed.’
There was some truth in that. Most of my fights are fixed – sorry, pre-planned - but I’d noticed that my opponents were making the most of the chances I was obliged to offer them. It was rare that I got a chance to land any good blows in retaliation, before losing of course.
‘Why not let me see if I can arrange a final match that will bring in a good return to set you up for retirement?’ she asked.
So it was that I agreed to honour my existing fight commitments and then step down after that one final match. My agent rang me with the details.
‘It’s in a month’s time, against Rachel.’
‘R-R-Rachel,’ I spluttered, ‘you can’t mean Rabid Rachel, the heavyweight champion?’
‘Yep, that’s the one.’
‘But,’ I protested, ‘I’m not a heavyweight.’
There was a long silence before she spoke.
‘No, well that’s right, not officially that is, but like I said last time we spoke you have put on weight lately. I’ve negotiated a bigger purse as you’ll be taking on Rachel. And, there’s no pre-plan, so you’ve even got a chance to go out on a high, with a bonus if you manage to win.’
Win. Fine chance I had of that. Rachel was built like a tank and regularly beat up male opponents.
***
As I was stepping into my trademark red hipster shorts in the dressing room, I casually asked my partner if he had put a bet on the result. He smiled and nodded. ‘For me to win or lose?’ I asked. He hung his head. ‘Thanks for the support,’ I muttered as I pulled on my sky blue sports bra for the last time.
My opponent graciously opted to enter the ring first, leaving me the starring role for my final entrance. The crowd went wild as I milked the applause on my way down the ramp to the ring. But I was under no illusions; they had come to see me trashed and they didn’t expect it to take long.
Neither did Rachel for that matter. When the bell went for round one, she stood in the centre of the ring until I made a move and then took me in a spine-breaking bear hug, lifting me off my feet and swinging me around. I managed to lever myself up her body a bit, and hang over her shoulder. She headed for the ropes, intending no doubt to toss me onto the top rope or to dump me right out of the ring. But I was too old a campaigner to let her get away with that. Hanging over her shoulder, I managed to get hold of her trunks and push them down past her muscular buttocks. That brought a chorus of whistles from her male fans. But she was as wily as I was, grabbed my hipsters and pulled them down to my knees as she dropped me face down over the top rope where she delivered a stinging slap from her hammer of a hand on my flabby exposed ass. The crowd loved that and cheered enthusiastically as I tumbled back into the ring pulling my shorts up and depriving all except those closest to the ring of a view of my carefully shaven pussy.
I scrambled back onto my feet to find my opponent standing in the centre of the ring, her trunks restored to their rightful position, beckoning me forward for another grapple. I moved towards her as if to accept her invitation, but feinted first left then right and then left again, leaving her swivelling aimlessly as she tried to follow and block my movements. With the agility of my lighter weight, I dodged behind her and delivered a hefty kick to her buttocks. She immediately swung round to grab me or hit me. I don’t know what she planned, but I ducked under her arm and pulled her trunks down to her knees. With her legs tangled, she had only two choices – pull the trunks up or kick them off – either way I was prepared to take advantage. She went for the modest option and, as she bent, I barrelled into her, knocking her onto the canvas and, in one swift movement, rolling her onto her back and pulling her legs over her shoulders for a chance of a quick fall.
I had little hope of succeeding this early in the match against so strong an opponent and she easily pushed her shoulders clear each time the referee had counted two. This is as good a time as any to mention the referee. Everyone knew she was not supposed to intervene unless we actually tried to murder each other. Her only roles were to do the counts and accepts the submissions. Otherwise, she was just there to look decorative and enjoy the show. Getting back to Rachel, my manoeuvre had one advantage. It had left Rachel with her ass exposed. I took the opportunity to deliver a flurry of slaps that made her squirm and curse. Then, as I released the hold and moved away, I took hold of her trunks and whipped them over her feet.
Rachel rolled onto her knees and squatted back onto her heels. I could swear that she was blushing under her fake tan. In the end, she realised that she had no choice but to make the best of the situation and rose to a chorus of whistles and applause. Her crotch was hairless and her protruding clit looked like she had had special exercises designed to strengthen it. But I couldn’t let her anatomy distract me, as she was circling around me with a determined look on her face. I didn’t need to be a mind reader to know what her plan was. I contemplated just stripping off my shorts in a grand gesture to put us on equal footing, but why deprive the crowd of the fun of watching her try to strip me down. That might divert her from deploying her strength and skill to defeating me, delaying my inevitable defeat and final exit from the ring and my profession.
She was getting more and more frustrated as I managed to evade her grasp each time we got close. Heavy women are often very light on their feet, but Rachel wasn’t one of those. She relied for her victories more on her strength than her agility and she was soon floundering around. All I needed was to get into the right position and then draw her in. Finally, I saw my chance and backed towards the ropes. Seeing the possibility of trapping me, she rushed me, but I ducked and rose under her as she toppled over me, tossing her into the air over the top rope. As she sailed past me, I grabbed her right foot and pulled, arresting her in mid-flight and bringing her crotch down onto the rope with my full weight.
Which was when the bell rang for the end of the first round. Sportingly, I immediately released my grip. Unsportingly, I left her dangling until her second pushed down the rope and she eased herself free. He handed her the trunks I had torn off her, but she threw them into the crowd.
Sections of the crowd were now chanting my name. To everyone’s surprise, mine included, I had come off best in round one. My opponent was now half naked with a sore crotch and, no doubt, a vicious determination to pay me back in kind, if not worse.
As soon as the bell went for round two, she flew across the ring and, without any finesse, simply picked me of my feet and threw me over the top rope. I managed to grab her top and clung to it until it ripped and came away in my hands. Rachel was left in the ring, stark naked, whilst I was left outside the ring, still fully clothed and without any harm done. I was, though, now at her mercy, as she had the advantage of height as I tried to retain the ring.
With a referee who showed no interest in making her stand back, I went for speed as my best option, launching myself under the bottom rope and rolling across the ring. I was on my face and barely in the ring when she lifted me off the canvas and ran with me at the nearest corner. We crashed into the padding together, her body crushing mine. I could feel her nipples against my bare flesh as she rammed me again and again.
As soon as I felt her relax her grip, I spun to try to deliver an elbow to her face, but she had tricked me, ducking under my arm as I spun round, and grabbing me under the thighs. In a trice she had my legs over the middle rope on either side of the corner. I struggled to free myself, knowing what would happen if I didn’t, but I was too late to avoid her knee that hit me right on the clit, lifting me into the air. I expected Rachel to follow up, but she just stepped back, leaving me to fall into a tumble, my legs still caught in the ropes and a searing pain cutting into my belly. She had had the chance to finish me off then, but she hadn’t taken it. Clearly, she had further plans.
I took my time. You have to after a crotch blow, even if you know it’s coming, which I did, and have time to ride up to lessen the blow, which I didn’t. It doesn’t matter how many low blows you take – and I’ve taken a lot - you never really get used to them. You learn how to tolerate the pain, but the shock still left me feeling nauseous and my legs wobbly. As I rose first to my knees and then slowly to my feet, Rachel made no attempt to follow up her attack. She just stood in the centre of the ring her legs planted firmly apart. It was almost as if she was inviting me to take a crotch shot. Well, that was very kind of her.
There was bound to be a catch of course. There had to be. But it would have been churlish to refuse so generous an invitation. So I steadied myself and walked cautiously towards her. She just smiled as I approached, taking the last two steps at the run and ramming my knee fast and high between her thighs. The crowd gasped and she rocked backwards, but remained on her feet. Then, to everyone’s surprise, she started laughing. ‘Is that your best shot?’ she sneered. Well, yes, as it happens, I had pretty much given her whatever of my full power was left after my pasting in the corner.
I summoned my strength and approached her again, less bothered this time about a trap. I steadied myself, took a deep breath and lashed out with my leg, catching with her with the rising arch of my foot. Again she staggered back and this time her eyes glazed, but she stayed on her feet. I didn’t wait to see if she would issue a further invitation. I just followed up with a swift knee that I ground hard, pushing her lips aside to make good contact with her clit. That produced a howl of pain and she sank to her knees, just as the bell went for the end of the round.
She took her time getting back to her feet and walking over to her corner where she slumped with her arms stretched along the ropes. That’s an old trick, making it look like you’re in a worse state than you are, but I was sure those last two blows had had an effect. However strong someone is, there is only so much pain they can take. But it’s best not to take too many chances, so I decided to take a leaf out of her book and took the attack to her as soon as the bell rang for round three. She waited for me nonchalantly, only twisting slightly to one side as I approached.
The next thing I knew she had one arm between my legs and the other round my neck. She hoisted me into the air, turned me upside down and slammed me hard into the canvas, following up by dropping her full weight across my shoulders. Winded and trapped, I couldn’t release myself and just waited for the inevitable count of three.
Damn. One fall down, but I congratulated myself on reaching the third round more or less unscathed. Common sense told me that she had probably just been stringing me along to put on a good show for the money she would get. Common sense told me that the best thing to do would be to let her get another fall or a knockout and then take my money and limp away. Pride told me that even if defeat was inevitable, I should at least put up a decent fight.
But pride can only get you so far. The remainder of the round was mostly taken up with a classic display of softening up your opponent. She threw me around the ring Into the corner post, sometimes following up and using her weight to crush me my body, sometimes not. Into the ropes, usually following up with a chop or another throw as I bounced back. Onto the canvas, and dropping on me to weaken my back. There was no doubt in my mind that she was going to go for a submission in the next round.
But then, just as the round was coming to an end, I had a stroke of luck. As she threw me into the ropes, I read her posture and anticipated that she would follow up to trap me and work more on my back. I rolled to one side just in time and pressed down on the top rope just enough for her topple over it. She was half in and half out of the ring. I grabbed her feet and hauled her back into the ring, dragging her tits and nipples across the rope. She tried to save herself from falling my grabbing hold of the rope, but I jerked her off and followed through with a knee in her back as she landed on her chest. I had all my weight in her lower back and was pulling her up by her chin when the bell went.
I took my time releasing her and watched as she walked slowly back to her corner. As she turned I saw the marks left my the rope on her breasts and a trickle of blood from her right nipple.
Round four opened in a blur. I had taken only a couple of steps from my corner before I was hit by a flying drop kick. More followed – I lost count of how many – each time I staggered to my feet, I was knocked off them again. And then, at last, luck played its hand again. Rachel was launching another kick as I started to rise, but luck made me slip. It was too late for Rachel to stop and I was too close to the ropes for her to avoid them. She flew into the top rope with her legs apart. I saw my chance, grabbed the rope and rocked it back and forth, grating it across her bare crotch. Then I slid under the bottom rope, took her by her feet and dragged her along. When I finally released her, she fell towards me but her feet tangled with the middle rope and she was left dangling. I climbed back into the ring and let her sort herself out.
The crowd was in uproar, cheering me on. I’d certainly humiliated her and given her a sore cunt, but in wrestling terms I had had little effect, other than to bolster my self-esteem and let me recover from the drop kicks. She was just as strong as before and now she was livid. She stormed towards me, read my feint, and whisked me off my feet, dropping me on my back over the top rope, and throwing her full weight on top. I was on the point of thinking that this might be a good time to submit when the bell rang. Phew.
Rachel slowly lifted her body off mine and backed away to her corner. Throughout the interval between rounds, she never took her eyes off me. Message received loud and clear. There was worse to come.
Round five and the storm continued. All of it aimed at my back. When she wasn’t throwing me into the corner and following up with a bone crushing crash, she was throwing me face down and dropping with her knee into the small of my back. This went on and on. It seemed like ages and it was. It went on so long that the crowd fell silent, almost it seemed in embarrassment. I was just waiting. I knew I couldn’t survive any submission move; it was just a matter of time. I prayed for the bell to ring, but it didn’t. Maybe, I prayed, she’s left it too late and I can rest up before the next pounding in round six.
Finally, I saw the end approaching. She threw me face down and climbed agilely on the ropes to balance on the turnbuckle from where she could drop on me with her full weight. I was so weak and winded by now that I could barely crawl. But I managed to get close enough to kick out at the corner padding with just enough power to dislodge her.
‘Nnnnoooooooooo,’ she screamed, knowing what await her as she fell, legs wide. The whole ring shook as her crotch collided with the turnbuckle. Then she howled, no longer the strong woman who had teased me to give her my best shot. As she toppled forwards I reached up and pulled her down onto the canvas. She landed with a crash and I managed to roll on top of her. Neither of us had the strength to move, not even when the referee had counted to three. We were just recovering as the bell went.
I pulled myself up on the ropes and walked unsteadily back to my corner. Her second rushed over and sagging under her weight helped her to her corner, where she vomited into the bucket. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, retched again, rinsed out her mouth and pushed herself to her feet.
Round six began with neither of us in good shape. My back ached and Rachel was pale and unsteady, but her eyes told me how she was feeling. Mad. She wasn’t a champion for nothing. We eyed each other wearily and then she dropped. I thought her knees had given way, until she grabbed the top of my shorts and yanked them down to my ankles. She grabbed me around the knees and used her weight to knock me onto my back, pulling my shorts off as a fell. She scrambled on top of me until she was astride my hips. The next thing I knew I was fighting to retain my bra top. In the end, I just gave up and let her have it. We were now as naked as each other and I was pinned down by her weight, but I could feel that her strength was sapped. Stripping me was just a distraction to buy time for her to recover.
As she began to dismount me, I tried to squirm away from her, but she caught me by the feet and twisted me onto my chest, exposing my back for more punishment. This time, though, she did not throw me around, she just pinned me with her knee in the small of my back and pulled my arms backwards, arching my body. The referee bent over me, but I shook my head. No way was I ready to submit, not so long as I was in with a chance to get free and I had a chance until she had fully recovered her strength.
The spectators were getting restless at this lack of activity, not appreciating the battle of wills that was taking place in the ring. Even the most serious of supporters don’t know how much wrestling is a mental rather than a physical fight. Even I was taken by surprise when, just as I could feel her power growing, she released the hold and stepped back. I realised the trap too late. I was barely on my feet, before she grabbed me and threw me onto her shoulder in a demonstration that she was fully recovered. She paraded around the ring, bouncing me with every step and sending shocks of pain along my spine, before hoisting me up and spinning me around and then dropping my back onto her raised knee. I had barely hit the floor before she was holding me again, up across her shoulders as she ran towards the corner and tossed me onto on back across the turnbuckle.
My scream almost drowned the sound of the bell.
I had to be helped down by my second and had only just got back into the ring when the bell went for round seven. Surely, would be the last round. I knew I couldn’t take any more punishment to my back, but so did Rachel and she was determined to make this fight last, perhaps as retribution for what I had done to her, perhaps for the sheer fun of hurting me. She wasn’t called Rabid Rachel for nothing. So instead of picking me up and throwing me around, she cradled me gently as if she were carrying a baby. Puzzled at first, I soon understood when she deposited me in a corner and entwined my arms and legs around the ropes. Until I could free myself, I was completely exposed to any attack she chose to launch and there was no doubt what that would be.
She backed away, her eyes fixed on my crotch that was spread wide open. Her laughter echoed around the hall. ‘Ready or not here I come,’ she roared as she pounded across the ring and launched herself into the air. I struggled frantically but I was still trapped by the ropes when her feet rammed into my pussy. The pain took a few seconds to reach my brain and then my vision went white. My eyes couldn’t focus, but the chant of the crowd told me she was backing off again for another attack. I didn’t see it coming, only felt the sudden jarring and other shock of pain up my spine. By the time of the third attack, I was able to focus and had freed one arm. By the time of the fourth attack, tears were streaming down my face and I had freed both arms. I managed to lean forward as the fifth assault came in and knock her legs down. Rachel’s momentum carried her forward towards the turnbuckle. I saw her frantically trying to twist to avoid impaling herself again, but she didn’t have the time.
This was my chance, probably the only one left. I wrenched my legs free and fell on top of my opponent. I grabbed her arms and dragged her into the centre of the ring. Then quickly I switched to her ankles, forcing her legs wide. ‘No, no’, she screamed, but I ignored her and dropped my knee onto that muscular clit. Keeping hold of her feet, I rose pulling her legs high into the air. ‘No, no, stop,’ she pleaded. The referee rushed forward and asked if she was submitting, but she shook her head. I jumped and dropped, forcing her legs wide, and landed right on target for a second time. I hadn’t fully recuperated after my crotching on the ropes, so I felt too tired for a third attack, resorting to a series of stamps with my foot. Rachel was frantically trying to use her hands to protect herself but with little success. Finally, feeling refreshed, I pushed her legs wide and threw myself into a head butt on her crotched. With my face buried between her thighs, I opened my mouth wide and bit hard on her clit. She howled and wriggled, but I kept snapping and biting.
Then it happened. I felt the referee’s hand on my shoulder. ‘Let her go, Bella. She’s given in. You’ve won.’
I pulled my head away, breathing heavily and listened to the roars of the crowd. I barely took into the announcement that I had won my final contest. All I could do was stare at the wreckage of my opponent. She was still on the canvas, completely destroyed as I climbed out of the ring.
It was almost enough to make me think I was retiring too soon.
My partner was, naturally, concerned with his own pleasure.
‘Face it, Wendy, you’re getting damaged in every match. After that last one, we couldn’t fuck properly for three weeks.’
I didn’t mention that I was the one who was too sore, but that he’d expected me to give him hand and blow jobs and let him do anal.
‘Isn’t it time you gave up wrestling and found something safer?’ he asked.
My doctor was, naturally, concerned with my health.
‘Face it, Ms Griffiths, there’s no knowing what damage you may be doing. With the injuries you’ve sustain during your years in the ring, you may find soon that sex becomes painful all the time and it may already be too late to have children.’
I wasn’t interested in having children, but I knew at least one person who was interested in having sex. OK, make that two.
‘Isn’t it time you gave up wrestling before you do any more damage to yourself?’ she asked.
My agent was, naturally, realistic.
‘Face it, Bella’ – that’s my professional name – ‘you’re past it. You’ve lost your looks, you’ve put on weight, and the only reason I can get bookings for you is that the crowd like to see you get thrashed.’
There was some truth in that. Most of my fights are fixed – sorry, pre-planned - but I’d noticed that my opponents were making the most of the chances I was obliged to offer them. It was rare that I got a chance to land any good blows in retaliation, before losing of course.
‘Why not let me see if I can arrange a final match that will bring in a good return to set you up for retirement?’ she asked.
So it was that I agreed to honour my existing fight commitments and then step down after that one final match. My agent rang me with the details.
‘It’s in a month’s time, against Rachel.’
‘R-R-Rachel,’ I spluttered, ‘you can’t mean Rabid Rachel, the heavyweight champion?’
‘Yep, that’s the one.’
‘But,’ I protested, ‘I’m not a heavyweight.’
There was a long silence before she spoke.
‘No, well that’s right, not officially that is, but like I said last time we spoke you have put on weight lately. I’ve negotiated a bigger purse as you’ll be taking on Rachel. And, there’s no pre-plan, so you’ve even got a chance to go out on a high, with a bonus if you manage to win.’
Win. Fine chance I had of that. Rachel was built like a tank and regularly beat up male opponents.
***
As I was stepping into my trademark red hipster shorts in the dressing room, I casually asked my partner if he had put a bet on the result. He smiled and nodded. ‘For me to win or lose?’ I asked. He hung his head. ‘Thanks for the support,’ I muttered as I pulled on my sky blue sports bra for the last time.
My opponent graciously opted to enter the ring first, leaving me the starring role for my final entrance. The crowd went wild as I milked the applause on my way down the ramp to the ring. But I was under no illusions; they had come to see me trashed and they didn’t expect it to take long.
Neither did Rachel for that matter. When the bell went for round one, she stood in the centre of the ring until I made a move and then took me in a spine-breaking bear hug, lifting me off my feet and swinging me around. I managed to lever myself up her body a bit, and hang over her shoulder. She headed for the ropes, intending no doubt to toss me onto the top rope or to dump me right out of the ring. But I was too old a campaigner to let her get away with that. Hanging over her shoulder, I managed to get hold of her trunks and push them down past her muscular buttocks. That brought a chorus of whistles from her male fans. But she was as wily as I was, grabbed my hipsters and pulled them down to my knees as she dropped me face down over the top rope where she delivered a stinging slap from her hammer of a hand on my flabby exposed ass. The crowd loved that and cheered enthusiastically as I tumbled back into the ring pulling my shorts up and depriving all except those closest to the ring of a view of my carefully shaven pussy.
I scrambled back onto my feet to find my opponent standing in the centre of the ring, her trunks restored to their rightful position, beckoning me forward for another grapple. I moved towards her as if to accept her invitation, but feinted first left then right and then left again, leaving her swivelling aimlessly as she tried to follow and block my movements. With the agility of my lighter weight, I dodged behind her and delivered a hefty kick to her buttocks. She immediately swung round to grab me or hit me. I don’t know what she planned, but I ducked under her arm and pulled her trunks down to her knees. With her legs tangled, she had only two choices – pull the trunks up or kick them off – either way I was prepared to take advantage. She went for the modest option and, as she bent, I barrelled into her, knocking her onto the canvas and, in one swift movement, rolling her onto her back and pulling her legs over her shoulders for a chance of a quick fall.
I had little hope of succeeding this early in the match against so strong an opponent and she easily pushed her shoulders clear each time the referee had counted two. This is as good a time as any to mention the referee. Everyone knew she was not supposed to intervene unless we actually tried to murder each other. Her only roles were to do the counts and accepts the submissions. Otherwise, she was just there to look decorative and enjoy the show. Getting back to Rachel, my manoeuvre had one advantage. It had left Rachel with her ass exposed. I took the opportunity to deliver a flurry of slaps that made her squirm and curse. Then, as I released the hold and moved away, I took hold of her trunks and whipped them over her feet.
Rachel rolled onto her knees and squatted back onto her heels. I could swear that she was blushing under her fake tan. In the end, she realised that she had no choice but to make the best of the situation and rose to a chorus of whistles and applause. Her crotch was hairless and her protruding clit looked like she had had special exercises designed to strengthen it. But I couldn’t let her anatomy distract me, as she was circling around me with a determined look on her face. I didn’t need to be a mind reader to know what her plan was. I contemplated just stripping off my shorts in a grand gesture to put us on equal footing, but why deprive the crowd of the fun of watching her try to strip me down. That might divert her from deploying her strength and skill to defeating me, delaying my inevitable defeat and final exit from the ring and my profession.
She was getting more and more frustrated as I managed to evade her grasp each time we got close. Heavy women are often very light on their feet, but Rachel wasn’t one of those. She relied for her victories more on her strength than her agility and she was soon floundering around. All I needed was to get into the right position and then draw her in. Finally, I saw my chance and backed towards the ropes. Seeing the possibility of trapping me, she rushed me, but I ducked and rose under her as she toppled over me, tossing her into the air over the top rope. As she sailed past me, I grabbed her right foot and pulled, arresting her in mid-flight and bringing her crotch down onto the rope with my full weight.
Which was when the bell rang for the end of the first round. Sportingly, I immediately released my grip. Unsportingly, I left her dangling until her second pushed down the rope and she eased herself free. He handed her the trunks I had torn off her, but she threw them into the crowd.
Sections of the crowd were now chanting my name. To everyone’s surprise, mine included, I had come off best in round one. My opponent was now half naked with a sore crotch and, no doubt, a vicious determination to pay me back in kind, if not worse.
As soon as the bell went for round two, she flew across the ring and, without any finesse, simply picked me of my feet and threw me over the top rope. I managed to grab her top and clung to it until it ripped and came away in my hands. Rachel was left in the ring, stark naked, whilst I was left outside the ring, still fully clothed and without any harm done. I was, though, now at her mercy, as she had the advantage of height as I tried to retain the ring.
With a referee who showed no interest in making her stand back, I went for speed as my best option, launching myself under the bottom rope and rolling across the ring. I was on my face and barely in the ring when she lifted me off the canvas and ran with me at the nearest corner. We crashed into the padding together, her body crushing mine. I could feel her nipples against my bare flesh as she rammed me again and again.
As soon as I felt her relax her grip, I spun to try to deliver an elbow to her face, but she had tricked me, ducking under my arm as I spun round, and grabbing me under the thighs. In a trice she had my legs over the middle rope on either side of the corner. I struggled to free myself, knowing what would happen if I didn’t, but I was too late to avoid her knee that hit me right on the clit, lifting me into the air. I expected Rachel to follow up, but she just stepped back, leaving me to fall into a tumble, my legs still caught in the ropes and a searing pain cutting into my belly. She had had the chance to finish me off then, but she hadn’t taken it. Clearly, she had further plans.
I took my time. You have to after a crotch blow, even if you know it’s coming, which I did, and have time to ride up to lessen the blow, which I didn’t. It doesn’t matter how many low blows you take – and I’ve taken a lot - you never really get used to them. You learn how to tolerate the pain, but the shock still left me feeling nauseous and my legs wobbly. As I rose first to my knees and then slowly to my feet, Rachel made no attempt to follow up her attack. She just stood in the centre of the ring her legs planted firmly apart. It was almost as if she was inviting me to take a crotch shot. Well, that was very kind of her.
There was bound to be a catch of course. There had to be. But it would have been churlish to refuse so generous an invitation. So I steadied myself and walked cautiously towards her. She just smiled as I approached, taking the last two steps at the run and ramming my knee fast and high between her thighs. The crowd gasped and she rocked backwards, but remained on her feet. Then, to everyone’s surprise, she started laughing. ‘Is that your best shot?’ she sneered. Well, yes, as it happens, I had pretty much given her whatever of my full power was left after my pasting in the corner.
I summoned my strength and approached her again, less bothered this time about a trap. I steadied myself, took a deep breath and lashed out with my leg, catching with her with the rising arch of my foot. Again she staggered back and this time her eyes glazed, but she stayed on her feet. I didn’t wait to see if she would issue a further invitation. I just followed up with a swift knee that I ground hard, pushing her lips aside to make good contact with her clit. That produced a howl of pain and she sank to her knees, just as the bell went for the end of the round.
She took her time getting back to her feet and walking over to her corner where she slumped with her arms stretched along the ropes. That’s an old trick, making it look like you’re in a worse state than you are, but I was sure those last two blows had had an effect. However strong someone is, there is only so much pain they can take. But it’s best not to take too many chances, so I decided to take a leaf out of her book and took the attack to her as soon as the bell rang for round three. She waited for me nonchalantly, only twisting slightly to one side as I approached.
The next thing I knew she had one arm between my legs and the other round my neck. She hoisted me into the air, turned me upside down and slammed me hard into the canvas, following up by dropping her full weight across my shoulders. Winded and trapped, I couldn’t release myself and just waited for the inevitable count of three.
Damn. One fall down, but I congratulated myself on reaching the third round more or less unscathed. Common sense told me that she had probably just been stringing me along to put on a good show for the money she would get. Common sense told me that the best thing to do would be to let her get another fall or a knockout and then take my money and limp away. Pride told me that even if defeat was inevitable, I should at least put up a decent fight.
But pride can only get you so far. The remainder of the round was mostly taken up with a classic display of softening up your opponent. She threw me around the ring Into the corner post, sometimes following up and using her weight to crush me my body, sometimes not. Into the ropes, usually following up with a chop or another throw as I bounced back. Onto the canvas, and dropping on me to weaken my back. There was no doubt in my mind that she was going to go for a submission in the next round.
But then, just as the round was coming to an end, I had a stroke of luck. As she threw me into the ropes, I read her posture and anticipated that she would follow up to trap me and work more on my back. I rolled to one side just in time and pressed down on the top rope just enough for her topple over it. She was half in and half out of the ring. I grabbed her feet and hauled her back into the ring, dragging her tits and nipples across the rope. She tried to save herself from falling my grabbing hold of the rope, but I jerked her off and followed through with a knee in her back as she landed on her chest. I had all my weight in her lower back and was pulling her up by her chin when the bell went.
I took my time releasing her and watched as she walked slowly back to her corner. As she turned I saw the marks left my the rope on her breasts and a trickle of blood from her right nipple.
Round four opened in a blur. I had taken only a couple of steps from my corner before I was hit by a flying drop kick. More followed – I lost count of how many – each time I staggered to my feet, I was knocked off them again. And then, at last, luck played its hand again. Rachel was launching another kick as I started to rise, but luck made me slip. It was too late for Rachel to stop and I was too close to the ropes for her to avoid them. She flew into the top rope with her legs apart. I saw my chance, grabbed the rope and rocked it back and forth, grating it across her bare crotch. Then I slid under the bottom rope, took her by her feet and dragged her along. When I finally released her, she fell towards me but her feet tangled with the middle rope and she was left dangling. I climbed back into the ring and let her sort herself out.
The crowd was in uproar, cheering me on. I’d certainly humiliated her and given her a sore cunt, but in wrestling terms I had had little effect, other than to bolster my self-esteem and let me recover from the drop kicks. She was just as strong as before and now she was livid. She stormed towards me, read my feint, and whisked me off my feet, dropping me on my back over the top rope, and throwing her full weight on top. I was on the point of thinking that this might be a good time to submit when the bell rang. Phew.
Rachel slowly lifted her body off mine and backed away to her corner. Throughout the interval between rounds, she never took her eyes off me. Message received loud and clear. There was worse to come.
Round five and the storm continued. All of it aimed at my back. When she wasn’t throwing me into the corner and following up with a bone crushing crash, she was throwing me face down and dropping with her knee into the small of my back. This went on and on. It seemed like ages and it was. It went on so long that the crowd fell silent, almost it seemed in embarrassment. I was just waiting. I knew I couldn’t survive any submission move; it was just a matter of time. I prayed for the bell to ring, but it didn’t. Maybe, I prayed, she’s left it too late and I can rest up before the next pounding in round six.
Finally, I saw the end approaching. She threw me face down and climbed agilely on the ropes to balance on the turnbuckle from where she could drop on me with her full weight. I was so weak and winded by now that I could barely crawl. But I managed to get close enough to kick out at the corner padding with just enough power to dislodge her.
‘Nnnnoooooooooo,’ she screamed, knowing what await her as she fell, legs wide. The whole ring shook as her crotch collided with the turnbuckle. Then she howled, no longer the strong woman who had teased me to give her my best shot. As she toppled forwards I reached up and pulled her down onto the canvas. She landed with a crash and I managed to roll on top of her. Neither of us had the strength to move, not even when the referee had counted to three. We were just recovering as the bell went.
I pulled myself up on the ropes and walked unsteadily back to my corner. Her second rushed over and sagging under her weight helped her to her corner, where she vomited into the bucket. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, retched again, rinsed out her mouth and pushed herself to her feet.
Round six began with neither of us in good shape. My back ached and Rachel was pale and unsteady, but her eyes told me how she was feeling. Mad. She wasn’t a champion for nothing. We eyed each other wearily and then she dropped. I thought her knees had given way, until she grabbed the top of my shorts and yanked them down to my ankles. She grabbed me around the knees and used her weight to knock me onto my back, pulling my shorts off as a fell. She scrambled on top of me until she was astride my hips. The next thing I knew I was fighting to retain my bra top. In the end, I just gave up and let her have it. We were now as naked as each other and I was pinned down by her weight, but I could feel that her strength was sapped. Stripping me was just a distraction to buy time for her to recover.
As she began to dismount me, I tried to squirm away from her, but she caught me by the feet and twisted me onto my chest, exposing my back for more punishment. This time, though, she did not throw me around, she just pinned me with her knee in the small of my back and pulled my arms backwards, arching my body. The referee bent over me, but I shook my head. No way was I ready to submit, not so long as I was in with a chance to get free and I had a chance until she had fully recovered her strength.
The spectators were getting restless at this lack of activity, not appreciating the battle of wills that was taking place in the ring. Even the most serious of supporters don’t know how much wrestling is a mental rather than a physical fight. Even I was taken by surprise when, just as I could feel her power growing, she released the hold and stepped back. I realised the trap too late. I was barely on my feet, before she grabbed me and threw me onto her shoulder in a demonstration that she was fully recovered. She paraded around the ring, bouncing me with every step and sending shocks of pain along my spine, before hoisting me up and spinning me around and then dropping my back onto her raised knee. I had barely hit the floor before she was holding me again, up across her shoulders as she ran towards the corner and tossed me onto on back across the turnbuckle.
My scream almost drowned the sound of the bell.
I had to be helped down by my second and had only just got back into the ring when the bell went for round seven. Surely, would be the last round. I knew I couldn’t take any more punishment to my back, but so did Rachel and she was determined to make this fight last, perhaps as retribution for what I had done to her, perhaps for the sheer fun of hurting me. She wasn’t called Rabid Rachel for nothing. So instead of picking me up and throwing me around, she cradled me gently as if she were carrying a baby. Puzzled at first, I soon understood when she deposited me in a corner and entwined my arms and legs around the ropes. Until I could free myself, I was completely exposed to any attack she chose to launch and there was no doubt what that would be.
She backed away, her eyes fixed on my crotch that was spread wide open. Her laughter echoed around the hall. ‘Ready or not here I come,’ she roared as she pounded across the ring and launched herself into the air. I struggled frantically but I was still trapped by the ropes when her feet rammed into my pussy. The pain took a few seconds to reach my brain and then my vision went white. My eyes couldn’t focus, but the chant of the crowd told me she was backing off again for another attack. I didn’t see it coming, only felt the sudden jarring and other shock of pain up my spine. By the time of the third attack, I was able to focus and had freed one arm. By the time of the fourth attack, tears were streaming down my face and I had freed both arms. I managed to lean forward as the fifth assault came in and knock her legs down. Rachel’s momentum carried her forward towards the turnbuckle. I saw her frantically trying to twist to avoid impaling herself again, but she didn’t have the time.
This was my chance, probably the only one left. I wrenched my legs free and fell on top of my opponent. I grabbed her arms and dragged her into the centre of the ring. Then quickly I switched to her ankles, forcing her legs wide. ‘No, no’, she screamed, but I ignored her and dropped my knee onto that muscular clit. Keeping hold of her feet, I rose pulling her legs high into the air. ‘No, no, stop,’ she pleaded. The referee rushed forward and asked if she was submitting, but she shook her head. I jumped and dropped, forcing her legs wide, and landed right on target for a second time. I hadn’t fully recuperated after my crotching on the ropes, so I felt too tired for a third attack, resorting to a series of stamps with my foot. Rachel was frantically trying to use her hands to protect herself but with little success. Finally, feeling refreshed, I pushed her legs wide and threw myself into a head butt on her crotched. With my face buried between her thighs, I opened my mouth wide and bit hard on her clit. She howled and wriggled, but I kept snapping and biting.
Then it happened. I felt the referee’s hand on my shoulder. ‘Let her go, Bella. She’s given in. You’ve won.’
I pulled my head away, breathing heavily and listened to the roars of the crowd. I barely took into the announcement that I had won my final contest. All I could do was stare at the wreckage of my opponent. She was still on the canvas, completely destroyed as I climbed out of the ring.
It was almost enough to make me think I was retiring too soon.
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