Priya rolled onto her side, one arm pressed against her lower back, her mouth still tender from the brutal fishhook. The camel clutch had done its work—every vertebra along her spine felt compressed, twisted, like someone had taken a wrench to her backbone. She could taste copper on her lips where Tracy's fingers had stretched her mouth. But as she pushed herself up to sitting, something darker than pain flickered behind her eyes.
She wasn't broken. She was furious.
Rajeev dropped to his knees next to Priya, the tangle of concern and embarrassment in his eyes more raw than anything she’d seen on the mat. He reached for her arm, but she shrugged him off with a sharp jerk of her shoulder. The pain in her back crackled like static, but she refused to let it show, refused to lean into his hand or let him see her tremble. Instead, she planted her palms to the canvas, pressed her teeth together until the taste of iron filled her mouth, and glared across the mat at her rival.
Tracy stood tall in the center of the ring, Jay’s hand gripping her shoulder like a trophy he’d won himself. Her pale skin was mottled red and purple, sweat running in rivulets down her chest and thighs. She looked like hell, but she looked victorious. The tiny line of blood at the corner of her lip only made the smile on her face more jagged, more hungry.
Tracy’s eyes met Priya’s, and for a moment, nothing else in the world existed but that look—the victorious, gloating certainty of a woman who had, for a span of minutes, owned her enemy utterly. The two husbands faded into background noise, the hum of the basement lights receded, and the only thing that mattered was the thin, electric band of hatred that stretched between them.
Rajeev tried again, softer this time. “Drink, Priya. You need your strength.” He offered the water bottle almost apologetically, as if the loss had been his fault too.
Priya ignored him. Every muscle in her body screamed, but a hotter, more volatile ache was taking over—a need for vengeance that blotted out everything else. She rolled her tongue over her split lip, spat blood onto the mat, and locked eyes with Tracy again. She wanted her to see—wanted her to know that the pain meant nothing, that this was far from finished.
Across the room, Jay was beaming like a proud parent at a spelling bee. He whispered something into Tracy’s ear; she threw her head back and laughed, a harsh, barking sound that made Rajeev flinch. Tracy flexed her arms, rolled her shoulders, and for good measure, slapped her own ass, making the sound echo off the cinderblock walls. “Come on, Priya,” she called out, her voice honeyed with mockery. “You want another round, or are you going to cry in your husband's lap first?”
Priya pushed off the mat and forced herself up. Her spine spasmed with every inch, but she turned the pain into fuel, letting it steep her nerves in a new, volcanic clarity. She dusted her knees. “One round isn’t a win, princess,” she spat. “Five points. You’re still down.”
Tracy’s eyes blazed, her nostrils flaring. “Not for long,” she said. “You think you’re hard? I’m going to peel you off the mat in pieces. Hope your husband likes seeing you beg.”
Rajeev bristled, but Priya silenced him with a gesture. She sucked in a slow breath, exhaled, and squared her stance. She could feel the tremor in her hands, but it no longer felt like weakness. It felt like the live wire at the heart of a bomb. She watched Tracy—watched the way Jay massaged her shoulders, the way her opponent’s feet shifted restlessly, the tense coil of expectant energy in her thighs.
Priya was already building her plan, brick by brick, in the space between heartbeats. Tracy had surprised her, yes, had shown a new cunning and ruthlessness. But she had also shown her limits. The camel clutch had been improvisation, not strategy—a desperate move in the chaos. Priya would be ready.
She heard Jay whisper, “End it this time. Don’t let her get up again.” She heard Rajeev, closer, his voice a low rumble: “Break her. For us.”
Priya set her jaw and strode to the center of the mat, meeting Tracy glare for glare. For a second, they stood nose to nose, chests almost touching, the thick tension of their bodies crowding out the air. Then Tracy leaned in, lips close enough to brush Priya’s ear. “Ready to go down again, whore?”
Priya didn’t flinch. “Only thing going down is your pride,” she hissed.
They circled, slow, deliberate. The men faded again. The room shrank to the rectangle of mat and the pulsing ache of rivalry. Priya feinted, assessing, looking for any weakness in the hunched set of Tracy’s shoulders. Tracy countered every move with a crowing confidence, but Priya could see it now—the slight favoring of the left foot, the tightness in the lower back, the stutter in her breath after every hard step.
She would use it. She would break her.
The next collision was less a clinch than a car crash. They hit, full tilt, and the pain was immediate—cheekbone to cheekbone, breast to breast, thigh to thigh, the clap of their bodies as loud as gunshot. This time, neither reached for hair. It was arms, it was leverage, it was bone against bone. Priya let Tracy throw her weight forward, let herself be driven back—then twisted at the last second, using her own body as fulcrum, flipping Tracy onto the mat with a judo roll.
She landed with knees pinning Tracy’s biceps to the canvas, her hands braced on the blonde’s wrists. Priya smiled, lips pulled tight. “How’s the mat taste?” she rasped.
Tracy bucked, once, twice, nearly sent Priya tumbling, but Priya held her ground. She shifted her hips, slid up higher, and brought her thigh across Tracy’s windpipe, choking her back with pure pressure. Tracy gurgled, her face red, but her eyes still burned defiance.
Behind her, Rajeev was screaming. Jay, too. The noise blurred, became the background to the main event: the grinding, hateful contest of will.
Priya leaned down, bringing her mouth to Tracy’s ear. “Ready to beg?” she whispered.
Tracy bared her teeth. “You first.”
The struggle went on. Tracy fought like an animal, bridging and twisting, her muscles straining with effort. But Priya rode every movement, using her legs as clamps, grinding Tracy’s face into the mat. Sweat pooled under them; the air stank of desperation and ferocity.
But it wasn’t enough. Tracy was stronger than she looked, and suddenly, with a surge of effort, she rolled hard, reversing the mount and slamming Priya onto her back. The momentum left Priya dazed for half a second—long enough for Tracy to drive an elbow into her ribs, then clamp her arms around Priya’s head in a crushing side headlock.
Priya clawed, desperate for air, her face mashed into Tracy’s side. Tracy’s biceps felt like steel cable, and every second in the hold burned like acid. But Priya refused to panic. She waited, endured, felt the tiny slips in the grip as Tracy tired. Then, with a last, violent heave, she twisted her hips and slipped free.
They disentangled, rolled apart, each sucking wind, sweat-slick and trembling.
Priya laughed, a low, dangerous sound. “Is that all you’ve got?” she taunted, spitting blood onto the mat again.
Tracy answered with a flying tackle, catching Priya around the middle. The impact was brutal, but Priya was ready. She cinched her thighs around Tracy’s waist, locked her ankles, and squeezed with everything she had. Tracy screamed, the noise echoing in the basement, as Priya poured on the pressure, crushing the air from her rival’s lungs.
The body scissors clamped down like a vice, and Tracy felt her ribs compress under the crushing pressure. Each breath became a struggle, shallow gasps that barely filled her lungs as Priya's powerful thighs constricted around her midsection. The pain radiated outward from her core, shooting through her back and chest in waves that made her vision blur at the edges.
But Tracy had been here before. She'd felt this crushing weight, this suffocating grip that threatened to squeeze the life from her body. The panic tried to claw its way up her throat, but she swallowed it down, forcing herself to think through the agony. Priya's legs were steel cables around her waist, but steel could be broken if you knew where to apply pressure.
Tracy's hands found Priya's thighs, fingers digging into the slick flesh. She could feel the muscles bunched tight, trembling with exertion as they maintained their crushing grip. The Indian woman's breath was hot against her ear, ragged with effort and triumph.
"Feel that?" Priya hissed, her voice strained but victorious. "Feel me crushing you from the inside out? Your ribs are going to crack like twigs."
The pressure increased, and Tracy's world narrowed to the burning ache in her chest, the desperate need for air that wouldn't come. Her vision started to tunnel, black spots dancing at the periphery. But beneath the pain, beneath the suffocating grip, anger burned white-hot in her chest.
Tracy twisted her body, using what little leverage she had to shift her weight. Her elbow found the soft flesh of Priya's inner thigh, and she drove it deep, grinding bone against muscle. Priya's grip loosened for just a moment—enough for Tracy to suck in a precious breath before the scissors tightened again.
"You're finished," Priya snarled, her thighs flexing with renewed pressure. "I can feel you getting weaker. Your husband's going to watch you pass out in my legs."
But Tracy wasn't weakening. The pain was fuel now, feeding the rage that coursed through her veins like molten metal. She could hear Jay shouting something, his voice distant and distorted, but the words didn't matter. All that mattered was the woman crushing her, the woman who thought she could break her.
Tracy's hands slid lower, finding the junction where Priya's thighs met her hips. Her fingers dug in, searching for the nerve cluster she knew was there. When she found it, she pressed down with vicious precision, her knuckles grinding into the sensitive flesh.
Priya shrieked, her body convulsing as the nerve attack sent shockwaves through her system. The scissors loosened, and Tracy didn't waste the opportunity. She twisted hard, rolling them both to the side, her shoulder slamming into Priya's ribs as they crashed to the mat.
They separated, both gasping, both trembling with exhaustion and pain. Tracy's chest heaved as she dragged air into her tortured lungs, the taste of copper thick on her tongue. Across from her, Priya clutched at her thigh, her face twisted in agony from the nerve attack.
"Dirty bitch," Priya spat, her voice hoarse. "You want to play with pressure points? I'll show you pressure points."
They came together again, but this time Tracy was ready. As Priya lunged forward, Tracy dropped low, catching her around the waist and driving her shoulder into the Indian woman's belly. The impact drove them both to the mat, but Tracy landed on top, her weight crushing down on Priya's already battered midsection.
Tracy didn't hesitate. Her hands shot up, fingers tangling in Priya's sweat-soaked hair, yanking her head back to expose the vulnerable column of her throat. But instead of going for a choke, Tracy shifted her grip, her hands sliding down to cup Priya's heavy breasts.
"My turn to make you scream," Tracy growled, her fingers sinking deep into the soft flesh.
Priya's back arched as Tracy's hands worked with cruel precision, fingernails raking across sensitive skin before her thumbs found the dark, swollen nipples. The Indian woman's scream tore through the basement air, raw and primal, as Tracy twisted and pulled with savage intent.
"How's that feel?" Tracy snarled, her face inches from Priya's. "Still think you're going to finish me?"
But Priya wasn't finished. Even through the agony of the nipple torture, her hands found Tracy's sides, fingers digging into the soft flesh just below her ribs. The pain was immediate and brutal, shooting through Tracy's torso like lightning. Her grip on Priya's breasts faltered, and the Indian woman bucked hard, rolling them over.
Now Priya was on top, her thighs straddling Tracy's hips, her hands already reaching down. But instead of going for Tracy's breasts, she grabbed the blonde's thong, yanking it to one side with brutal efficiency.
"Let's see how you handle this," Priya hissed, her fingers sliding between Tracy's legs.
The invasion was immediate and overwhelming, Priya's fingers driving deep with no gentleness, no consideration. Tracy's body jerked, a strangled cry escaping her lips as Priya's thumb found her clit, circling and pressing with cruel precision.
"That's it," Priya panted, her free hand pressing down on Tracy's throat. "Feel me taking control of your body. Feel yourself getting wet for me even while you hate it."
Tracy's world exploded into sensation—pain and pleasure twisted together until she couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. Her hips bucked involuntarily, her body betraying her even as her mind screamed in rage and humiliation. Priya's fingers worked with practiced skill, finding every sensitive spot, exploiting every weakness.
"Come on," Priya whispered, her voice like silk over steel. "Give it to me. Let your husband see what I can do to you."
The pressure was building, that familiar heat coiling in Tracy's belly despite her desperate attempts to fight it. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her body trembling as Priya's fingers drove her inexorably toward the edge. The humiliation was almost worse than the physical sensation—knowing that this woman, this rival, could make her body respond against her will.
But Tracy had one last card to play. As Priya leaned down, her face close enough that Tracy could smell her sweat, could see the triumph glittering in her dark eyes, Tracy struck. Her hand shot up, fingers hooking into Priya's hair, and she yanked the Indian woman's head down while simultaneously lifting her own.
The headbutt connected with a sickening crack, forehead to forehead, and both women cried out in pain. Priya's grip loosened, her fingers slipping from Tracy's body as stars exploded across her vision. Tracy didn't give her time to recover. Rolling hard to the side, she managed to get on top again, her hands immediately going for Priya's throat.
Tracy's hands found Priya's throat, her thumbs pressing against the soft hollow above her collarbone. The Indian woman's eyes widened, her mouth opening in a silent gasp as Tracy bore down with all her remaining strength. She could feel Priya's pulse hammering against her fingertips, rapid and frantic.
"Now who's begging?" Tracy snarled, her voice raw from the punishment she'd endured. The headbutt had left her vision slightly blurred, but she could see the fear creeping into Priya's dark eyes.
Priya's hands clawed at Tracy's wrists, her nails leaving thin red lines on the pale skin. She bucked beneath Tracy's weight, but the blonde had her pinned solid, knees digging into her sides. Tracy could taste blood in her mouth from where she'd bitten her tongue during the headbutt, metallic and warm.
"Submit," Tracy growled, increasing the pressure slightly. She wasn't trying to choke Priya unconscious – she wanted the submission, wanted to hear those words torn from her rival's lips again. "Say it. Say I've got you."
Priya's response was to drive her knee up between Tracy's legs, catching her square in the crotch. Lightning shot through Tracy's pelvis, white-hot agony that made her vision go black at the edges. Her grip on Priya's throat loosened involuntarily as her body doubled over, a strangled scream escaping her lips.
The Indian woman didn't waste the opening. She rolled hard, sending Tracy tumbling to the side, then scrambled on top of her. Tracy was still curled in a fetal position, both hands pressed between her legs, when Priya's weight settled across her back.
"My turn," Priya hissed, her voice hoarse from the chokehold.
Tracy felt Priya's arm snake around her neck, pulling her head back at a brutal angle. The rear naked choke locked in tight, Priya's bicep pressing against one side of her throat while her forearm compressed the other. The blood flow to Tracy's brain began to slow, that familiar fuzzy feeling creeping in at the edges of her consciousness.
She clawed at Priya's arm, her fingernails scraping against sweat-slick skin, but the Indian woman had the hold locked in deep. Tracy could hear Jay screaming something, his voice distant and distorted, but she couldn't make out the words over the rushing in her ears.
"Sleep," Priya whispered against her ear, her breath hot and ragged. "Just go to sleep, and this all ends."
But Tracy wasn't going to sleep. Not like this. Not when she was so close. She forced herself to think through the haze, to ignore the growing blackness at the edges of her vision. Priya's body was pressed tight against her back, the Indian woman's legs wrapped around her waist to maintain control.
Tracy's hand found Priya's thigh, fingers digging into the thick muscle. She could feel the tension there, the strain of maintaining the body triangle while applying the choke. With the last of her strength, she drove her thumb deep into the soft flesh of Priya's inner thigh, finding that same nerve cluster she'd targeted before.
Priya shrieked, her body convulsing as the nerve attack sent shockwaves through her system. The choke loosened just enough for Tracy to suck in a desperate breath, oxygen flooding her starved brain. She twisted in Priya's grip, using her elbows to drive back into the Indian woman's ribs.
They separated again, both women crawling away from each other on hands and knees, gasping for air. Tracy's vision was still spotty from the choke, but she could see Priya clutching at her thigh, her face twisted in pain.
Tracy pushed herself up on shaking legs, sweat dripping from every pore of her body. Her throat ached where Priya had choked her, and the low blow had left a deep, throbbing pain between her legs. But she was still standing. Still fighting.
Across the mat, Priya was rising too, her movements careful and deliberate. The nerve attack had clearly shaken her, but there was still that dangerous glint in her dark eyes. Still that predatory smile playing at her lips.
They came together one more time, but slower now, both women exhausted and battered. This time it was Priya who struck first, her hand shooting out to grab Tracy's hair. But Tracy was ready for it, ducking under the grab and driving her shoulder into Priya's midsection.
The tackle sent them both crashing to the mat, but Tracy managed to land on top. She didn't hesitate, didn't give Priya time to recover. Her hands shot up, seizing the Indian woman's wrists and pinning them above her head. Then she shifted her hips, sliding forward until she was sitting across Priya's chest, her thighs bracketing the darker woman's head.
"No," Priya gasped, her eyes widening as she realized what was coming. "Not like this."
But Tracy was already moving, her hips sliding forward until her crotch was pressed against Priya's face. The facesit locked in tight, Tracy's full weight settling down as she leaned forward to trap Priya's arms under her shins.
The mat pressed rough against Priya's skull as Tracy's weight settled fully across her face. Everything went dark, suffocating, the blonde's thick thighs creating an inescapable seal around her head. Priya's nose mashed flat against Tracy's sweat-slick mound, the musky scent filling her nostrils with each desperate attempt to breathe. Her mouth was buried completely, lips pressed against heated flesh through the thin fabric of Tracy's thong.
Panic shot through Priya's chest like ice water. She bucked violently, her hips lifting off the mat, but Tracy's weight didn't budge. The blonde had her pinned perfectly—arms trapped under those powerful shins, legs splayed wide, completely helpless. Priya's lungs already burned for air, the crushing pressure of Tracy's ass and thighs creating an airtight prison around her face.
"How's that taste, bitch?" Tracy's voice filtered down from above, muffled but triumphant. "You like being under me now?"
Priya tried to turn her head, searching for even a pocket of air, but Tracy shifted with her every movement. The blonde's hips ground down harder, pressing Priya's face deeper into her crotch. Each breath was a struggle, pulling in only the heated musk of Tracy's arousal mixed with sweat.
Her arms strained against the weight pinning them, muscles screaming with effort. She could feel Tracy leaning forward above her, probably looking down with that smug expression, savoring every second of her dominance. The humiliation burned almost as hot as the need for oxygen—to be smothered like this, face-first in her rival's crotch, helpless and gasping.
Priya's world had shrunk to this—the crushing weight, the suffocating darkness, the desperate fight for each molecule of air. Her chest heaved frantically, but there was nowhere for the breath to go. Tracy's thighs flexed around her skull, tightening the prison, and Priya felt her strength beginning to ebb.
She had to get out. Had to find a way before the darkness took her completely.
With a surge of desperate fury, Priya managed to work one knee up between their bodies. She drove it upward with everything she had left, catching Tracy in the lower back. The blonde grunted, her weight shifting just enough for Priya to wrench her head to the side and suck in a precious gasp of air.
But Tracy recovered quickly, her hips sliding forward to reclaim the smother. This time she leaned back slightly, changing the angle, trapping Priya's face even more completely between her thighs. Her hands found Priya's hair, gripping tight to control any movement.
"You're done," Tracy hissed, her voice thick with exertion and satisfaction. "Feel yourself going under. Just let it happen."
The world began to fade at the edges, Priya's vision tunneling as oxygen deprivation took its toll. Her struggles grew weaker, more erratic. The sounds of the basement—Jay's shouting, Rajeev's desperate encouragements—seemed to come from very far away.
But something had shifted in Priya's body beneath her. Tracy felt it through her thighs—the subtle change in tension, the way Priya's struggles had taken on a different rhythm. The Indian woman's hips were moving now, not just bucking in panic but rolling in a way that sent unexpected jolts of sensation through Tracy's core.
*What the hell?*
Tracy's grip on Priya's hair tightened as she felt her own body responding despite herself. The grinding motion beneath her was deliberate now, Priya's face pressing up into her with purpose rather than desperation. Heat bloomed between Tracy's legs, her thong growing damp against Priya's mouth and nose.
"No," Tracy gasped, trying to shift away, but Priya's movements followed her. The Indian woman had somehow turned the facesit from suffocation into stimulation, her tongue working against the thin fabric, her lips finding sensitive spots that made Tracy's thighs tremble.
The realization hit Tracy like a physical blow—Priya wasn't just surviving the smother, she was using it. Weaponizing it. The clever bitch was going to make her come while sitting on her face, turn her own dominant position into humiliating defeat.
"Fuck," Tracy whimpered, her hips starting to move involuntarily. The pressure was building despite her efforts to fight it, that familiar heat coiling in her belly as Priya's tongue found her clit through the soaked fabric. Each flick sent electricity racing up her spine, her body betraying her with every involuntary thrust.
She could hear Jay shouting something, probably encouragement, but the words were lost in the roar of sensation flooding her system. All that mattered was the mouth beneath her, the skilled tongue that was unraveling her control stroke by devastating stroke.
The orgasm was building now, unstoppable, and Tracy knew she was about to lose everything.
But Tracy wouldn't let her finish what she'd started. With a desperate surge of strength, she twisted her hips sharply to the side, breaking the rhythm of Priya's assault. Dropping her full weight down in a crushing facesit, Tracy pinned Priya's head tight between her thighs and grabbed two handfuls of hair and jammed Priyas head deep into her pussy and rolled to her side. The movement was swift, practiced, vicious. She locked her ankles together, trapping Priya's skull in an inescapable headscissors.
"Not this time," Tracy snarled, squeezing with everything she had left.
Priya thrashed wildly, hands clawing at Tracy's thighs, nails digging desperately into flesh. But Tracy's legs were iron, the muscles bunched and straining as she poured every ounce of strength into the hold. She could feel Priya's hot breath against her inner thigh, growing more frantic with each passing second. The Indian woman's struggles grew more panicked, her body twisting with diminishing strength.
Tracy cranked harder, shifting her hips to tighten the scissors. Sweat poured down her body, stinging her eyes, her chest heaving with exertion. But she didn't let up. Not now. Not when she was so close.
"Submit!" she growled, her voice cracking with strain. "Submit or I'll pop your fucking head off!"
Priya's hands slapped weakly at Tracy's legs now, her strength fading as oxygen deprivation took its toll. Tracy could feel her rival's body beginning to go limp, could feel the fight draining away with each brutal squeeze of her thighs.
Jay pounded the mat, his voice hoarse with excitement. "That's it, Trace! Finish her!"
Rajeev was on his feet, his face twisted in concern. "Breathe, Priya! Don't give in!"
But Priya couldn't breathe. Tracy's thighs were a vise around her skull, cutting off blood flow, making the world swim in dark spots. Her lungs burned for air, her temples throbbed with pressure. Tracy felt the exact moment when panic overtook pride—Priya's hand slapped the mat three times in desperate succession.
"I SUBMIT!" she screamed, the words muffled between Tracy's crushing thighs. "PLEASE! I SUBMIT!"
Tracy held the scissors for three more heartbeats, making sure everyone heard it, making sure Priya felt the full humiliation of her surrender. Then she released the hold, shoving Priya's head away from her with contempt.
The Indian woman collapsed onto her back, gasping for air, her chest heaving in great, shuddering breaths. Her face was flushed dark, tear tracks cutting through the sweat on her cheeks. Tracy pushed herself up to her knees, then her feet, swaying slightly as exhaustion threatened to buckle her legs.
"Four-four," she announced, her voice ragged but triumphant. She turned to look at Rajeev, making sure he saw the victory in her eyes. "One more point, and your wife crawls out of here."
Jay was beside her in an instant, steadying her with a hand at her elbow. "That's my girl," he whispered, fierce pride in his voice. "One more. Just one more."
Tracy nodded, her eyes never leaving Priya's sprawled form. The Indian woman was still struggling to sit up, her movements clumsy and disoriented. Rajeev knelt beside her, murmuring something in her ear, his hand rubbing slow circles on her back.
The air in the basement felt different now—charged with a new tension. The next fall wouldn't just determine the winner. It would determine everything. Which woman would walk out with her pride intact. Which would crawl away broken.
Tracy took the water bottle Jay offered, drinking deeply, letting the cool liquid soothe her parched throat. Her body ached everywhere—ribs bruised, thighs trembling from exertion, throat raw from screaming. But beneath the pain was something stronger. Resolve. Certainty.
This was her last match. And she wouldn't lose it.
Not to Priya. Not to anyone.
Across the mat, Priya finally managed to sit up. Her eyes found Tracy's, and even through the daze of near-unconsciousness, the fire still burned. She spat onto the mat—a mixture of saliva and blood—and pushed Rajeev's hands away when he tried to help her stand.
"You think this is over?" she rasped, her voice barely audible. "You think you've won?"
Tracy stepped forward, standing tall despite the tremor in her legs. "I know I have."
The two women stared at each other across the mat, both battered, both exhausted, both refusing to break. Their bodies told the story of the war they'd waged—bruises blooming like dark flowers across skin, hair matted with sweat, thongs twisted and soaked through.
The final round was coming. And only one would stand when it ended.
