Spinebuster!

Wrapping both arms around her midsection as she came back into range, you lift Rose up high enough into the air before slamming her back down to the canvas in an impressive spinebuster!

Feeling the air briefly leave her sails upon impact, you’re quick to capitalize.

Seizing her ankles, you step over with your right leg before wrapping them around your extended limb.

The crowd could already guess at what you’re about to do, but you decide to leave Rose to come to that realization herself.

Securing both her lower limbs, you then promptly turn her over on her belly without much resistance on her part.

Your opponent’s expression, dazed from the high-impact slam, transforms into a visible grimace as you lean back into the expertly applied Sharpshooter.

Holding her legs in place, you firmly compress her lower back much to the delight of the fans and the writhing displeasure of your opponent.

“Shades of the ‘Hitman’ Bret Hart there folks!” the announcer notes in an approving tone.

You’re damn right.

She tries to stay stoic for the first initial movements, but as you lean back more and more into the leglock, she’s **** to admit the efficiency of your submission.

“Fuck, you motherfucker!!!” she cries out in a **** tone, fingers scratching at the canvas with an invisible weight of pressure bearing down on her spine.

“Hardcore enough for you?” you taunt her over your shoulder.

She responds by spitting back at you, “Not even close, you corporate pansy!”

With a shrug, you reef back with no sympathy at all, putting even more pressure on her lower back.

Kneeling down partially on her vertebrae, you crank and crank back on the specialized leglock until-

“FUUCK!! FUUUCK!!” she groaned out in a guttural tone, the agony and bodily discomfort simply too much for her to bite back.

Making matters even worse for her, you were both intertwined together in the middle of the ring.

Being much smaller than you, she would have to rely on her upper body strength to drag herself to the ropes, but even then, under the conditions of the match, you would have no obligation to release her.

Not unless she said the magic words.

Speaking of….

“Ask her!” you nod at the referee.

Going over to the writhing Rose, the official speaks to her, “Rose, do you want to quit?”

She then holds a microphone to her grimacing expression.

The tattooed brunette didn’t even think about that.

“Fuck you, get that out of my face!” she growls venomously at the official, who promptly backs away.

Knowing her official response now, you’re **** to make a decision: