"...47."

A malevolent glint suddenly lights up her eyes, like never before as you reluctantly tell her the number of your choosing.

Looking like she just received her Christmas presents a few months early, Kayla let out an excited breath before purring down at you, “Oh you definitely made the right decision, John.”

Judging by that look on her face, you almost immediately realize that you made the opposite of just that.

“This might hurt a bit,” she says suddenly, before twisting your arm upwards even more nearly to the point of dislocation.

**** down to the mat with an agonizing grimace, you’re completely helpless as she reassumes her towering position with both feet on either side of your prone form.

You’re able to finally sigh in relief as she loosens her grip over your arm, but that feeling is only fleeting as she suddenly drops her full weight down on your back.

“I swear to God, Kayla, when I get out of this I’m gonna-”

Your sentence is never completed because Kayla suddenly takes both your arms and pulls them both sharply, her shapely posterior now using your spine as a bony pillow.

Seconds later, you barely make out through your side periphery her legs wrapping around the outside of your outstretched forearms, before coming together at the base of your neck.

Her ankles crossed now at the back of your neck, you can barely even get a breath out before a sudden jolt of pain shooting up your shoulders tell you in no uncertain terms what hold you’re currently locked in.

A freakin' lotus.

“In case you haven’t figured it out, Einstein, you just pulled out the ‘I fucked up’ card. I’ve been waiting to test out this bad boy for a while, and you just volunteered to be my cute little guinea pig,” she taunts you, exerting a considerable amount of pressure on your shoulder blades with her legs now applying a full nelson to your already battered and bruised up upper torso.

“Lucky...me,” you grunt out, trying valiantly to power through only for Kayla to nearly make you nearly scream in a high octave as she **** your elbows even closer to your back.

In your head, the pain levels immediately skyrocketed from “This is very unpleasant” to “This woman is trying to rip my arms out!”, all within the span of mere seconds.

Nonetheless, you hold firm, trying to draw energy from the crowd to drag yourself (and her) towards the ropes.

However, you couldn’t even make it a centimeter without the overwhelming sensations tearing through your arm muscles with every downward squeeze of her potent calves.

It wasn’t just her body weight; it was everything- the grogginess from her earlier kicks, the stinging pain in your joints, the slight fatigue, that kept you flat on the mat with absolutely no means of saving yourself.

“Well, one thing’s for sure: the rookie’s gonna need one hell of a shoulder massage after this is all done,” the ring announcer smirks to himself, his words certainly failing to amuse you at this rate.

Completely relaxed and in a place of complete control, the dark-haired sexfighter even begins inspecting her fingernails casually, as if there wasn’t a near two-hundred pound man struggling and squirming underneath her.

“Just so you know, I submitted like three guys in a row with this move, plus a girl, La Diabla i think. If my memory serves me correctly, which it usually does, they all lasted a combined…..two minutes against these bad boys-” She proudly patted her bulging thighs before leering down on you, “How long do you think you can last, rookie?”

“Long enough to-nnngghhhh….” You substitute your next few words with a very audible “Fuck” as she increases the pressure once again, nearly causing your fingers to go numb.

Kicking your feet desperately into the mat, you exhaust whatever remaining strength you still had left before coming to the realization that seemingly everybody around you had come to grips with.

You are completely screwed.

As if sensing this wave of resignation emanating from your aching joints and bruised bones, Kayla slightly lessens the pressure, allowing you to

“Ready to give up?” she smiles down at you cheerfully.

Too embarrassed to respond and with your arms still behind your back, you shamefully nod your head yes.

“Well before you do that, how about a photo-op?” she whispers in your ear haughtily, nodding at a ECL photographer staring at them from ringside like some paparazzi creep with a camera at the ready.

“Please...I give…” you croak out, wincing as you feel her right ankle suddenly twist downwards against your defeated expression.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you feel something very soft yet deadly brush up against your cheekbone.

Her bare foot.

“Given that your hands are currently...let’s just say tied up,” she giggles, her thighs still wrapped around your now limp arms, “I figured there should be a more fun way for you to tap out to me. So, why don’t you give these cute little piggies a little kiss?”

“I hate this woman so much.” Groaning to yourself, you suck up your dignity, your pride, and anything else that she hasn’t already taken from you, and bite the bullet.

Almost melting under her smug gaze, you plant a submissive kiss on the top of her foot, eliciting a happy little purr from the ebony woman.

Snap!

With the photographer no doubt getting his money shot with your lips pressed up against her foot, Kayla finally relinquishes the hold as the referee calls for the bell.

“Maybe this little moment won’t be for the rookie’s ECL scrapbook. Point goes to Kayla, as expected,” the announcer jokes, as Kayla slinks off you and returns back to her corner.

The taste of literal defeat bitter in your mouth, you simply borrow your head into the canvas and drag yourself towards the next round.

You’ve lost a point for submission.