Michelle Trachtenberg vs Brittany Snow
All those present could feel the atmosphere in the room change in an instant. It was the pre-match socializing, as the elite spectators mingled over cocktails. By tradition, the combatants would be escorted immediately to their assigned bedroom, where they would prepare and await the summons for the match. However Brittany, ever the iconoclast, insisted on joined the assembled and enjoying a glass of champagne. She could feel the eyes of the spectators upon her, worshiping her, and she reveled in it.
It was then that Michelle arrived. She instantly caught sight of her rival, and the daggers they glared at one another across the room were very nearly visible. The brunette said nothing as she approached Snow, a supremely confident smirk on her face. She put some extra sashay in her hips, and the sight of her vaunted derriere passing by stole the thunder from the blonde. She walked right up to Brittany.
The blonde smirked right back and purred with a scornful laugh, "Oh, you want to play now?" She took a step forward, and the two arch-rivals were very nearly nose to nose, fingers curling in preparation for hairpulling.
Realizing the fight was quite likely on the verge of erupting prematurely, the match ombudsman stepped between them. "Let's save it for the actual battle, ladies," he admonished them. He then politely asked that two gentlemen accept the honor of escorting the pair to their assigned rooms. Once that was accomplished, an electric buzz ran through the room. This promised to be a rousing clash between two beauties who shared genuine hostility for one another. The appointed time of the match couldn't come fast enough.
***
The match that followed was everything it promised to be, and more. Each at the peak of her skill, Brittany and Michelle waged a magnificent battle that often proved brilliant. Not only are both highly skilled grapplers, but they are both rightly considered to be among the finest tacticians in celebrity catfighting. No move was random; each was employed as part of a grand strategy...an overall plan to not merely defeat the other, but to prove the winner's absolutely supremacy over her hated nemesis. Only the supreme endurance of both Trachtenberg and Snow, coupled with their steely determination to never submit to the other, kept them fighting long past the point of sheer physical exhaustion.
But after a long and grueling stalemate, the advantage in the last few minutes had clearly been in Michelle's favor. At the rate this was going, it was becoming clear that victory was within the brunette's grasp.
That is, until a distressed Brittany, driven to her knees before her opponent, put everything she had behind a forearm smash up between Michelle's legs. The brunette's eyes went as wide as saucers and her cheeks sucked in as her lips curled into an anguished 'O'. The impact drove her up to tip toes, and she then staggered backward, hands cupping her throbbing groin. Trachtenberg had made the fatal mistake of allowing herself to grow over-confident, and that left her open to such a desperation act, for which she now paid the painful price.
With the tide now turned her way, Snow wasted no time in pressing her advantage. A couple of sharp slaps to the face left Michelle glassy eyed, and she put up scant resistance as Brittany snared her in an abdominal stretch. Trachtenberg mewled as her glistening, nubile body was torqued to an agonizing degree...and her whining was quickly joined by caterwauls as Snow used her free hand to clamp a clawhold over her rival's already sore womanhood, viciously squeezing it as the brunette screamed her throat raw. Had she opted to keep her dual holds in place, the blonde might very well have drawn a surrender from her foe, or perhaps most likely driven her unconscious from pain and exhaustion. But Snow came into this match knowing precisely how she wanted to defeat Trachtenberg, and now her moment had come to fulfill her vision.
Suddenly releasing the stretch/claw combo, Brittany sneered as Michelle let out a loud sigh of relief and she crumbled to the floor like a marionette whose strings had been cut. The brunette lay on her back, eyes glazed as she stared in a daze at the ceiling, pert breasts rising and falling as her lungs gasped to fill themselves with air. The blonde sat down upon Trachtenberg's chest, her back to her victim's head. The spectators leaned forward in their seats, suddenly realizing what Brittany had in mind: to finish off Michelle with her own fabled finisher, the facesit smother! What could be more humiliating than to be defeated by your own finishing move?
Brittany wriggled her hips, sliding herself backward until her rear end settled down over her rival's face. Engulfed in darkness, suddenly unable to breath, panic filled Michelle's mind and she thrashed like a wild animal beneath her tormentor, but she lacked the raw strength to escape, and all her frenzied writhing was accomplishing was to exhaust her even more swiftly. Pushing past her panic, the brunette realized that she had but one slim chance of escape, and it would take expert timing and skill.
Seated atop her adversary, Snow couldn't suppress a wide smile of delight, certain of victory. Seeing Trachtenberg suddenly cease her thrashing, Brittany believed the final moment was at hand. She turned her head to look back over her shoulder to verbally taunt her rival...and thus never saw Michelle's right leg flash up, her shin smashing heavily into the side of the blonde's head. The blow left Brittany momentarily stunned and she swayed atop her foe, who next brought both legs up and, working blindly, managed to deftly snare the blonde around the head. An instant later Michelle pulled her legs downward, jerking Brittany forward and slamming her face into the floor. And just like that, the tide had once more turned.
Trachtenberg was running on her last dregs of power, and it was all she could do to roll Snow over and onto her back, and then to crawl on top of her. "This is how it's done," the brunette rasped as she now sat her own derriere down upon her enemy's sweat-soaked face. Now it was Brittany's turn to squirm to no avail. Frantic for release, she tried to repeat Trachtenberg's own method of escape, but expecting this, the brunette managed to catch the limb as it swung up toward her and, holding it with her left hand, she pistoned her right fist into the triangle of bikini fabric covering Snow's groin. "Let's see how you like it!" Trachtenberg growled with no small amount of satisfaction, as her own groin still ached from the punishment it had suffered. The blow caused Brittany to give a yowl of pain, muffled beneath her opponent's encompassing butt, which cost the blonde the last of her precious oxygen supply. Within moments, her body went limp as she slipped into the inky embrace of unconsciousness.
All she wanted to do was collapse and go to sleep herself, but slowly, with supreme effort, Michelle managed to rouse herself. Awkwardly climbing to her feet...her knees buckling a few times before her trembling legs could support her, colt-like...she placed a foot upon her the heaving chest of her beaten nemesis and raised her right arm, as the room erupted with cheers from the awe-struck spectators.
