Ashley Benson
Leighton MeesterTheir expensive designer party dresses had long since been reduced to tatters, leaving the two combatants clad only in their thong panties, their long manes matted with sweat even as their skin glistened with beads of perspiration. Panting for breath, the beauties staved off exhaustion as they warred on.
At long last, it appeared as if victory for one was on the near horizon. Leighton had snared Ashley in a Muta Lock (a.k.a. the Inverted Indian Deathlock Chinlock), and the blondes howls of anguish echoed through the penthouse. The smug smile of Meester's face made it plain that she anticipated her opponent to be submitting any moment. Instead, what came next was a shriek from the brunette, as Benson desperately ground a knuckle into her tormentor's eye. Shocked and in pain, Leighton released her hold and rolled away, rubbing at her sore eye to try and clear her vision quickly, counting on the blonde to likewise use this opportunity to try and gather her wits.
But instead, calling upon her last dregs of strength, Benson threw herself at the startled brunette, knocking her onto her back. Pressing her sudden advantage, Ashley sprang to her feet and grabbed her adversary's ankles, spreading her legs wide. She then lifted her own right leg, letting her foot hover over Leighton's nether regions, as a wide-eyed and panic-stricken brunette frantically waved her hands and begged, "No...no...no!" With a smirk, Benson then stomped three quick kicks to Meester's groin. But that was just to soften her up for the finish.
Executing a figure four on her rival's leg, the blonde bend down, grabbing Leighton's hair on either side of her head close to the scalp, and with a grunt lifted her bodily up off of the carpet. The combination of the agonizing figure four and the fiery pain from the hairpull had her shrieking
"STOP! I GIVE UP!" in mere seconds. For good measure, Ashley slammed the back of Meester's head to the floor as she let her down, dazing her.
Releasing her figure four, Benson grabbed her conquered opponent's ankles and doubled her legs over in a matchbook pin. She then regally sat down upon Leighton's upturned haunches and waved over the butler, who brought with him a flute of Pernod Ricard Perrier Jouet ($50,000 a bottle!). With a triumphant smile on her angelic face, the victrix then remained seated upon her throne (who sobbed in helpless humiliation beneath her), sipping her champagne and accepting the cheers of the onlookers.
