With Revenge

Coach Laura had to drag me to the side of the mat because I was too exhausted. Even that minute wasn’t enough to catch my breath.

Jessica tried to wipe the sweat off me, but mostly she tried to cover up the wetness between my legs that Rebecca had caused with her domination - I could still feel her breasts pressed firmly against mine, and her leg pressing against my pussy.

I couldn’t make out a single word Laura said to me. I had only one thing on my mind that kept me moving: Revenge.

As soon as the referee signaled for us to face off again for the second round, I summoned all my energy.

Rebecca’s gaze was confident and taunting; she was underestimating me.

As soon as the referee gave the signal, I threw myself at her with all the strength I had left. I tried to grab her lower back and the backs of her thighs to throw her to the ground, and I felt her body give way and be pushed to the ground on the first impact.

"My plan is working!", I mistakenly believed, my thoughts clouded by fatigue and agitation.

Not encountering the resistance I’d expected, my body ended up being thrown forward; Rebecca managed to grab my neck and head under one arm and, with the other, seize my wrist to twist my left arm behind my back.

Her legs wrapped around mine, her heels pressing against the backs of my knees before we hit the ground. It was incredibly easy for her to put me in this full-body submission hold.

After the impact, I lost all my strength, all my energy. Keeping control of my wrist and legs, she began to move me to the side, working her way lower and lower down my body.

She had no trouble pinning me to the mat, grabbing my legs, and positioning herself so she could control my movements. Before I could figure out what she was up to, Rebecca began pulling my legs apart in opposite directions, using her position to prevent me from turning over and regaining a favorable position.

My legs were spread apart, and my dress was stretched tight across my crotch and around my thighs, while my pussy was stimulated both by the pain of the move and by the friction and pressure of the fabric.

I tried to brace my arms against the mat, attempting to lift my torso and free myself from her grip, but Rebecca anticipated my move, maintaining firm control. Every time I tried to move, she adjusted her position, preventing me from finding the space I needed to break free. Until she made me stop resisting with a single move.

One leg was pinned by the weight of her body and one arm, the other by her legs—she raised her torso and head to look me in the eyes as I struggled against her, and with her free hand she began rubbing my pussy, touching where my clit was, pressing where it was most embarrassing. I blushed. Such an explicit act had never happened before—neither to me nor in any match I’d seen in person. It would take a massive disparity in strength to end up in a position like that—a complete submission on the part of the opponent—to pull off a move like that. Yet I ended up in this position, not able to keep looking at my opponent face, covering mine with my hands to hide from her dominant gaze, sinking into the mat, stifling moans of intense pleasure mixed with constant pain, while my opponent rubbed my pussy for everyone to see.

The move was legitimate—a masterful display of submission spadle. I could have given up; I should have.

But instead, I let her do it. I was too tired even to move. With tears in my eyes, I spread my arms wide, resting my shoulders on the mat again. In the split, my legs and hips were in the air, lifted by Rebecca’s grip, but my torso, shoulders, and head were resting on the mat.

The referee watched me for a moment, to make sure I was actually on the ground. I could have kept one arm or a shoulder slightly raised to stop the count, but I didn’t.

She began to count, and Rebecca quickened her fingers, rubbing me with delicate fury, spreading my legs even wider and stretching my leotard to its limit.

My pussy was visible through the fabric, getting wetter and wetter, more and more aroused by my opponent’s touch.

“One.”—Even the referee’s voice turned me on at that moment.

“Two.”—I glanced to the side; Jessica and Laura were screaming something desperately, while Isidor looked nervous—maybe even disgusted? I was showing him my weakness.

My body reacted on its own. Before the referee could slowly count to three, I had a powerful orgasm, with Rebecca continuing to rub and press against my clit despite my thrashing and the constant spasms of my pelvis. The pain was intense, and I nearly broke something in my legs. The humiliation was twofold. The referee had to step in to free me from Rebecca’s grip, while my body shook with humiliating pleasure.

As soon as I was free, I rolled onto my side, closing my legs and clutching my pussy to calm it down and hide it. With my head on the mat, I had to hold back my tears. I don’t know exactly what happened next. All I knew was that I wasn’t even called up for the scoring or the victory announcement.

The result was the most lopsided of the tournament—10-0—and the first recorded sexual knockout.