Target her shoulder

This is the most wounded she's ever been, have to capitalise.

You slip out of the ring & meet the Warrior face to face. When you grab her wrist, realisation flashes in her eyes, only to be replaced with pain when you yank it back & dig the shoulder hard in to the post. Your pull has all the leverage, her attempt to pull back is futile. You count to 5 in your head & relax, without releasing her hand. You give her some slack, so when she tries to retreat, you yank again & smack her back into the steel. Your foe bares her teeth & hisses in discomfort. But your not done yet. You walk her arm to the side, before absolutely _whipping _it across the post.

"Oh jeez, Warrior is getting tenderised in there." There's compassion in the announcers call.

She scurries back on the mat & cradles her injured wing. When you reenter & reach for it she tries to bat your hands away. But her usual ferocity is (for the moment) overwhelmed by concern. An downward elbow strike to the shoulder draws a yell & exposes the arm. You seize the wrist again & drag her up to her feet. In your mind you take a mental photograph of this savage warrior, with blood red hair & streaked in warpaint, pleading wordlessly not to hurt her. You shake your head, twist her arm & drag her straight down.

Alright, that should do it. Finish her off.

Your foe is lying flat on her chest, taking deep pained breaths, interspersed with swearing. "Shite, fookin' shite."

Irish, by accent & profanity. At least I finally got her to talk.

You silence it when you sit down on her shoulder blade & grip her wrist. Already she's scrambling under you like a stuck bug. You issue a final warning.

"Submit" you command.

"Fook you never!" she spits back

"O.K." You pull her arm straight up, 90° up from her torso, perfect fuijwara arm bar.

"This look like the end folks, that hold could really disarm her!"

The Warrior isn't used to submitting, or even thinking about submitting, so she fights it everything she has. Her limbs flail frantically. Her free hand claws at you uselessly, enough to put a tear in your trunks. The trapped arm rubs again your cock & you stiffen up some more. Looking down it you see the muscle & tendons stretch to breaking point.

Damn! Will she actually snap before she taps?

"Give up?" you try to sound calm & in control.

Teeth grit, face red, hands shaking in defiance. "ARRRRGH O.K. give give... motherfucker."

The bell rings, your foes arm flops, you step off & return to your corner. While you face the crowd for some praise, you feel a hand reach down the damaged side of your trunks & snap them. You spin around in a huff to find your foe eyeing you up.

"Wha?"

"You try to jump me before and after the round?"

"Not jumpin' ya prick. You gimme a gammy arm, I won' see something for it."

The official pushes the 2 of you apart. Your tights are broken so your rip the other side & whip them off. When the audience catcalls & the Warrior smiles, you toss them into her face. Embarrassed again, she lunges for you again, but the referee shoves her back to her own corner.

You win 1 point for submission.