You retaliate.

Ignoring the searing pain laced around your midsection, you charge forward at her with her guard presumably lowered thanks to your weakened condition.

Only instead of taking her off her feet with a surprise tackle, the exact opposite happens.

Your shoulders instead run into a fleshy wall as your best efforts only push her back a few inches.

Your forearms remain wrapped loosely around her waist as your failed tackle only succeeds in amusing Dinah, as well as the rest of the audience.

The attempt clearly takes more out of you than her, and recognizing this the Cowgirl grabs you in a headlock to keep you anchored to her.

Without even trying, she tosses you to the side like a ragdoll.

Landing shoulder first, you writhe against the mat with a pained look etched across your face while still clutching your bruised midsection.

“And she just tosses him out like yesterday’s news. Folks, have you ever seen such pure strength, such unapologetic dominance from a fighter like this before?” the announcer exclaims, as you struggle to recover.

Rolling over on your stomach, you start to find your bearings just as the Cowgirl yanks you right back up.

Hooking her hands underneath your armpit and against your neck, she locks you in a half nelson hold and hoists you back to your feet.

Maintaining the hold with your head still swimming in a sea of grogginess, she drags you back towards the center of the ring before putting her plan into action.

Jumping up on her toes to build momentum, she lifts you up even higher in mid-air before emphatically driving you back down.

The air slams out of you in one fell swoop as the back of your head smacks noisily against the mat along with the rest of your back.

“What goes up, must certainly come down. He ain’t getting up from that one!” the announcer observes, almost feeling the resounding impact of her elevated bodyslam himself.

Gritting your teeth to hold back some choice words, you’re completely paralyzed by pain as she pants slightly in the immediately wake of just body slamming a male fighter with relative ease.

Her impressive rack heaves up and down as she walks up to you.

Placing both hands on her hips, she simply raises her leg and places her bare foot dominantly against your chest.

Saying nothing as her foot lightly presses against your flesh, her wordless expression as she leers down on you speaks volumes for itself.

Dropping down, the referee mercifully slaps her hand against the mat to count the pinfall as you remain still underneath her triumphant figure.

Each count feels like an eternity, and it’s all the more humiliating to realize that you’re too winded to even raise your shoulder with only her foot acting against it.

The point-buzzer rings seconds later, prompting the Cowgirl to smirk at you deviously. “Y’know, I did say you’d have to work your way up. And here’s my foot, in exactly the right place for you to start kissin’. Ain’t life funny sometimes?”

You’ve lost a point for pinfall.