Brittany Snow
Michelle TrachtenbergThere had been close to a dozen opportunities in the match thus far for either woman to pin the other. However, as this was a Submission Only contest, pins meant naught; even a knockout did no good, as that would result only in a technical draw.
Thus, Snow and Trachtenberg called upon the vast reservoir of grappling knowledge each possessed, coupled with their fighting experience and the indomitable will each shared, to try and force the golden words from the other’s lips: “I give up.”
Yet after nearly forth minutes of back and forth battling across the penthouse floor, neither had yet been able to drive the other to surrender, although it was not for lack of trying. The elite spectators were gifted to a veritable panorama of complex wrestling maneuvers, from armbars and anklelocks to backbreakers and legwringers…the more painful, the better. As the struggle wore on, the veneer of civility washed away with sweat and tears, revealing the savage jungle cats beneath.
At times, it appeared as if Brittany might win the battle, subjecting her rival to such agonizing holds as the Bridging Cobra Clutch, Bow & Arrow and a Gory Special; a lesser woman would have surely scream her submission to any of them, but Michelle valiantly held on. The brunette had her own shining moments, seemingly assured of victory with such maneuvers as the Octopus Hold, Abdominal Claw and the Cloverleaf. But each time, it was the blonde’s chance to show her iron willpower, and she resisted until she was either able to escape, reverse, or Trachtenberg simply grew frustrated and moved on to something else.
The toll upon both beauties was grueling…their once-flawless skin now mottled with bruises and scratches, soaked with sweat…their carefully coiffed hair now matted and tangled…their makeup smeared and streaked across their deceptively angelic faces. Each now clearly ran on whatever dregs of power each could still call up, and it was clear that this fight could not last much longer. The only question was, which woman would be able to seize the final advantage?
The answer seemed to arrive as one woman managed to stun her nemesis with a finger jab to the throat; as the embattled beauty gasped and gurgled for breath, her foe shoved her roughly to the floor and dropped to her own knees beside her. Moving with a swiftness that belied her exhaustion, she rolls the fallen girl to her right side and presses her left knee against the small of her victim’s back while stepping over her with her right foot, placing her heel up to the other woman’s throat. Then with both hands, she tightly grasps her opponent’s left ankle and lifts her leg up, pulling the calf back over her own neck and shoulder. Thus applied, the Horse Collar Stretch rips an anguished howl from the lips of the entrapped beauty.
Too spent to power out and too securely trapped to work her way free, the victim knows her has been defeated…although her pride stubbornly refuses to acknowledge it; she astonishingly defies the crippling hold far longer than any believed possible. Inevitably however, the willing spirit must give way to the weakened flesh, and she taps her hand to the floor.
Having none of it, her conquereress growls,
“Say it!” Choking back sobs, the beaten beauty rasps out, “I…I…submit!”
Michelle give’s Brittany’s legs one last, long tug, simply out of pure cussedness, and then she releases her hold. Standing up, she pushes the sobbing blonde to her back with her foot and then dominatingly plants that foot upon Snow’s heaving breasts as she runs her hands through her own disheveled mane, the room erupting in cheers. The two warriors lock eyes, and Trachtenberg gives a soft chuckle as she smirks down at her beaten rival.
