It had been a number of months since longtime rivals Michelle Trachtenberg and Brittany Snow had met in battle, and that pent-up animosity exploded during the first fall of this Best of Three Submission contest. The two battling beauties held back nothing as each tried to wring a submission from the other, employing a vast array of holds, each designed to inflict more punishment than the one before it. Soon they were bathed in sweat, their hair tangled and awry, their chests heaving as they panted for breath. Both were so evenly matched that virtually all of the fight had been a stalemate up until now, but at last one fighter firmly held the upper hand.
Michelle shrieked as Brittany applied a Stretch Muffler, the brunette's lithe, colt-like left leg twisted up and around her adversary's neck, while Snow dug a knee into Trachtenberg's spine and yanked her head back with a hairpull. This was the kind of hold which could easily dislocate a victim's knee, and the pain in administered was nearly blinding. Still, Michelle valiantly held on, refusing to surrender. That suited Brittany just fine, as the blonde gave a serpent's grin, delighted to be subjecting her rival to such anguish. Finally, tears in her eyes, and however reluctantly, the brunette rasped out,
"I give!"But Brittany didn't release her hold. Instead, she cruelly purred, "Are you sure you wouldn't like to just give up the whole match now? Or do I have to make you my bitch all over again?" Furiously, Michelle roared,
"NO!!! LET ME GO, YOU FUCKING WHORE!" Of course, Snow showed no desire to release the hold, so the match's ombudsman stood up and ordered it broken, under threat of disqualifying Brittany and awarding the match to Michelle. "Spoil sport!" the blonde said as she let go of her foe, her bottom lip pouting as she stood up and strutted like an Amazon queen to her side of the penthouse living room. With a groan, Michelle pushed herself back up to her own feet, walking off the limp to her left leg before the start of the second fall, quietly muttering curses at her hated opponent.
After the required sixty second grace period, round two began and the struggle continued. Whatever advantage which Brittany may have hoped she possessed following her first fall victory evaporated as the two beauties again found themselves in a veritable stalemate, neither able to hold the advantage for long as the minutes ticked by. One would employ a magnificent hold, only to have the other brilliantly counter and escape. Both women grew more and more frustrated as their efforts were foiled time and again.
But inevitably, one snared the other in a maneuver the victim was unable to break free of. And so it was when Trachtenberg caught Snow in a Boston Crab. Leaning back, pulling the blonde's legs with all of her might, Michelle gave a satisfied half-smirk as Brittany howled in agony, her face betraying every last ounce of pain coursing through her battered body like an electrical current. Swiftly enough, Snow's right hand was frantically slapping at the carpet, and she screamed out,
"STOP! I GIVE! I GIVE!!!" Recalling their reversed roles in the previous round, the brunette gave her hold one last tug, but then released it. Snow's legs flopped to the floor and she clutched at her back, giving a sobbing snivel.
Sixty seconds wasn't nearly enough for a full recovery, but Brittany made the most of it, and as the start of the third and final fall was signaled, she was on her feet and raring to scrap. Both girls were, in fact, and all pretense of this being a contest of technical grappling skills was thrown aside as they launched at one another like snarling jungle beasts. They rolled back and forth across the carpeted floor, pert breasts falling free as lacy bras are torn off, threats and curses hissed through gritted teeth, and strands of golden and chestnut hair littering the ground. But even in a catfight, Brittany and Michelle could only fight to a draw, with neither able to put the other away.
Suddenly, Michelle gives an anguished yowl, her hands clutching her groin as she collapses to the carpet. Brittany, who had just thrown a forearm uppercut into her rival's womanhood, gives a wicked smile. Wiping sweat from her brow, the blonde expertly winds her legs with the brunette's, and seconds later Trachtenberg roars in pain again, this time courtesy of the Figure Four Leglock which Snow is applying. The brunette writhes on the floor, nearly overwhelmed by the pain. Propped on her elbows, Snow giggles in delight, certain that victory is mere moments away. "I'm going to cripple you!" she taunts her hapless rival.
Hapless yes...but
not helpless. Calling upon the dregs of her remaining strength, Michelle throws everything into the effort to roll over. Realizing what the brunette is attempting, Brittany struggles to prevent it. But still...
slowly...Trachtenberg manages to twist both herself and the blonde onto their sides...and then over onto their bellies. As a result, all of the pressure from the Figure Four reverses, flowing now into Snow's limb, and it is her whines which now fill the air. Brittany makes every effort to flip back over, but with her palms pressed to the floor, Michelle is able to stymie it. Tears stream down Brittany's face as she moans, "Nooooo...not like this...not like this!" One minute ticks by, then two, then three, and still Snow endures to agony, refusing to give her opponent the satisfaction of her submission. But finally, even the blonde must acknowledge the truth, and first she hisses,
"I fucking hate you!" and then she whimpers, "I give up!"
The battle took a frightful toll on both beauties; neither could stand, and they each had to be carried into separate bedrooms to rest and recover. Yet there was a winner, and a loser...even though both girls knew this rivalry was far from over.
