Powerbomb

Looking at the wooden table and then the struggling Kayla, the choice is simple.

Now gripping her hair with both hands, you drag her along the padded floor like a disobeying pet seeking so desperately to escape its master.

But from you, there is no escape.

Taking a moment to wipe your sweaty brow, you ignore her dainty hands weakly swatting at your forearms, the ring announcer’s usual hyperbolic tirades, and even the crowd’s overly enthusiastic chanting for some table action.

As far as you’re concerned, this is you making a statement... to Kayla first and foremost but also to anybody watching backstage.

This is how you handle business.

Wearing a confident grin from corner to corner, you take the struggling black woman by the neck and **** her directly between your legs.

Her hateful breath caresses your inner thighs as you position yourself (and by proxy her) right in front of the awaiting table.

“I bet Kayla never thought she’d be quite in a predicament like this. The rookie is going for all the marbles here, and I LOVE IT!” the announcer exclaims.

Your leg muscles thankfully keep her tethered as you reach down and grab her waist.

“Can’t judo flip your way out of this one, Kayla,” you tell her only in thought, your confidence at an all-time high as you lift her off the ground and onto your shoulders.

Despite your current state of fatigue, you’re more than capable of keeping her hoisted up in the infamous powerbomb position, her faint struggles now only mildly annoying you.

Even though you couldn’t directly see her eyes, you just knew that they were filled with fear of what’s about to come, the final exclamation point about to be heard across the arena and on every television monitor backstage.

Now gripping her waist, you lift her up slightly higher to get as much air on her before possible, before finally-

“Ack!”

The brief whisper of air that had caressed your grinning face was suddenly and violently snuffed out as her steely legs coiled around your neck.

Taking an instinctive step back as the initial wave of disorientation and disbelief pulsated through your brain, you initially attempt to complete the powerbomb anyways, but Kayla had already adjusted her impromptu headscissors into an even tighter triangle.

Clawing at the back of your head with one hand and cranking her legs together even tighter with the other, she squeezed and squeezed like a woman possessed, taking you (and the audience) offguard by this sudden show of life.

Snarling with a fiery, unrelenting glint in her dark eyes, she truly is hell bent not to go through that table by any costs, but unfortunately for her…

“Grrrrrr…” Snarling right back at her, you clamp down harshly on her round ass with one hand, causing her to grunt out in surprise at the rough groping.

Now **** to change course and simply focus on tearing her legs apart, you wedge your other hand in between her legs in an attempt to pry her destructive thighs apart, but that almost immediately goes awry as she digs her manicured fingers into the back of your head and forces you facefirst against her panty-covered crotch.

For the briefest of moments, your senses are filled with nothing but pussy, but that pleasurable moment dissipates as her vice grip rears its ugly head once again.

Throwing her hair back in determination, she continues compressing your windpipe with murderous intent.

Gasping for your next breath, you try in vain again to drive her through the table, but her headscissors had siphoned off more upper body strength than you had originally thought.

Staggering against the ring apron, you redirect your efforts towards reaffirming your grip over her thrashing body and nailing that final move.

But then, Kayla smartly grabs on to the middle ropes for leverage thanks to her elevated position.

Keeping herself anchored to the ring, she is able to amplify her headscissors tenfold, leaving your face in various shades of asphyxiation.

Gagging and wheezing loudly against her inner thigh, you summon whatever strength you had, ignore the overwhelming pressure closing in around your throat, and charge forwards with your sheer willpower winning out, albeit barely.

Kayla’s determined grimace quickly gives way to a fearful gasp as she chances a look over her shoulder at the wooden table rapidly approaching her purview.

Not this time, bitch. I’ve got...I've….

Your eyes begin to flutter groggily.

“Do or die time, folks. Can the rookie pull it off? I don’t know about you but...” The ring announcer’s words slur together, eventually forming an unintelligible mesh of noises that enter one ear and exit the other.

Your left leg suddenly buckles underneath you.

Still **** you, Kayla gives an audible oh! as she feels the air suddenly brush past her sides, with you falling down on your knees.

Her back...touches, but doesn’t break through the wooden table.

“Ugghhhhh….” Slumping forward, your body gives out as you remain in her airtight leggy noose, followed only seconds later by your mind and remaining strength.

Landing rather gracefully on the rectangular furniture, Kayla’s shock then quickly turns to smug realization as your arms go limp.

Sitting up casually with her powerful thighs still framing her now choked out opponent, Kayla’s taunting expression is the last thing you see before drifting away into unconsciousness.