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Finish Her!

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Offline The Syndicate

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Re: Finish Her!
« Reply #2355 on: April 07, 2023, 07:09:08 PM »
Some of my old stories from previous accounts. I hope to get back to writing new stuff asap:

Margot Robbie vs Mila Kunis

Margot Robbie

Mila Kunis

There was hair everywhere.

Strands of blonde and black locks that had been ripped from the scalps of Margot Robbie and Mila Kunis were scattered across the latter’s living room. Their grunts and groans stayed trapped in the house, absorbed by the walls of the otherwise empty home. The coffee table was flipped over, bits of glass shattered and stuck in the carpeting. A few picture frames were also on the floor. Some blankets and couch cushions were scattered along with some t-shirt tatters.

The battle had carried from the living room to the dining room, where chairs sat overturned and more decorations lay broken on the floor. The two women then carried on all the way to the kitchen. A trail of hair and ripped clothing carried all the way through the sliding glass doors to the back yard. Then from the back yard back into the house. Back through the kitchen and then to the foyer. Then up the stairs, where some light streaks of blood sunk into the carpeting from the rugburn.

Finally the two women found themselves in Mila’s bedroom, where a comforter had been ripped off of the bed and onto the floor and several pillows similarly were scattered around the room. Both women had their hands in the other’s hair. They sat there, neither of them willing to release. Face-to-face, nose-to-nose, their bodies each had the trademarks of a grueling battle. A few long scratch marks ran across Mila’s face as well as a completely shredded black t-shirt that had only a few strands still barely hanging across her shoulders. Long tracks of mascara tears ran from the bottom of her down to her chin. And yet her nostrils flared, her teeth gnarled, and she would not let go of Margot Robbie’s hair.

Robbie meanwhile looked to be in slightly better shape. Her cheeks were bright red from the brutal slaps Mila had landed and similarly her white tank-top was shredded. But she seemed to have a bit more of her hair and there were no tear tracks down her cheek. In fact, she felt she had dominated most of the fight up util the moment where they got to the foyer. Mila took control there, and dragged Margot all the way up the stairs and into the bedroom. That caused the harsh scrapes on her knees and elbows. Similarly she kept her hands in Mila’s hair.

Margot had a footin Mila’s gut and pushed it forward, trying to break her rival’s hold on her hair. The smaller actress would not budge, however. Her fingers stayed embedded in those blonde locks. Nothing but hatred was plastered across Mila’s face. She wanted nothing more than to break this blonde right here and right now. She tried to stand, but found another foot in her stomach that knocked her back down to her ass. It was then that Margot saw a window. She planted her feet on the floor and just launched her bigger body towards Kunis.

The brunette let out a loud gasp as she felt the full brunt of Margot’s body on hers. It was more than enough to knock her back and she found the iron grip she had in the Aussie’s hair loosen. Margot felt it too. She felt a release. Then for the first time since the fight started she smiled. She had her.

The blonde pressed forward. Flattening Mila out on her own bedroom floor. Kunis twisted onto her stomach, which Margot was more than happy to allow as it weakened Mila’s grip on her own hair. Meanwhile Margot rooted her nails even deeper into the base of the smaller woman’s scalp. She twisted the roots of Mila’s hair around the tip of her fingers and then yanked upwards hard. The brunette whimpered. Her own grip loosened once again. So Margot dug her knee into the bitch’s spine. Then she yanked up again. Mila now screamed. Her hands fell completely from Margot’s hair and in a desperate attempt to stop the pain tried to grab Margot’s wrists.

It was no use though. The blonde had taken control and there was no way she was going to relinquish it. She used her grip on Mila’s hair to twist her neck in awkward positions. All the while she kept the point of her knee embedded in the brunette’s spine. Mila had fought off Margot in situations like this earlier in the fight. But now? She was exhausted. Physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted. She hated the dread she felt. The inferiority of her own body as Margot’s slowly broke it. She wanted to tell herself that if this fight took place five years ago she would have won, but doubt clouded that thought. Maybe she never could have beaten Margot. Maybe the blonde had always been better than her and didn’t have the chance to prove it until now.

Another harsh yank to the side from Margot and Mila finally had enough.

“OOwwww, okay…” Mila moaned. “You win. Just get off of me…”

Margot’s chest swelled with pride. She leaned down as she gave Mila another yank.

With her lips to the brunette’s ear she said, “I fucking told you I would get that role. I get what I want over girls like you all the time, bitch.”

The blonde pushed Mila’s head down to the floor and then pressed her hands on the brunette’s shoulders to get up. She planted her foot on Mila’s back for just a few seconds to give the brunette one last reminder of what happened there in her own home, in her own room.

“You ever want a rematch…” said Margot. “Well, I’m sure you’ll find me.”

Beyoncé vs Kim Kardashian


Kim Kardashian

When Beyoncé first heard about the proposal she couldn’t stop herself from laughing. A PPV event of her and Kim Kardashian wrestling, each of them sponsored by their own clothing brands. Beyoncé of course would represent Ivy Park and Kim would be supported by her Skims brand.

“It doesn’t make any sense,” said Beyoncé. “I’d whoop her in five seconds.”

She knew Kim intimately. They had shared dinner together, nights out together, and even nights in together. The last thing Beyoncé had Kim pegged for was any sort of fighter. Add in the fact that she had five inches and at the bare minimum 10lbs on Kim and it just didn’t make any sense why Kim would propose such a thing. And yet she did. And she insisted she didn’t want it to be fake or for fun. She wanted it to be real. Her and Beyoncé, woman to woman, trying to beat the other one into the ground.

She didn’t understand it, but Beyoncé agreed to it anyway.

The Queen Bee held this opinion all the way leading up to the fight. In the interviews, in the face-off, the entire process Beyoncé held true to her high level of confidence. There was nothing Kim would possibly be able to throw at her that could make her lose this fight. She had it in the bag. If anything she might have to carry Kim for a while just so their audience got their fill.

That all changed when Beyoncé saw Kim Kardashian walk into the center of the ring. In the midst of the cameras, flashing lights, and ravenous screaming fans Beyoncé only had one thought: Kim looks unbeatable.

It was the way she carried herself. The look on her face. The way her skimpy crop top and bottoms clung to her form. The way her long hair was braided all the way down to her ass. Beyoncé was a queen, but staring across from her was a Goddess.

Beyoncé lost that fight right then and there. The fifteen minutes that came after the bell rang was only a delay of the inevitable. She had been intimidated. She felt small. She felt weak. She felt inferior. And as a result she fought that way. And as a result she found herself flung across the ring. She found herself squealing in bearhugs. She found herself on her knees or on her ass only to be yanked back to her feet by the hair. She found herself smooshed in the corner between the post and Kim’s body. She found her head snapping side to side with every slap. She found herself down face-first on the mat and then peeled back up over and over again. She found her tits flattened by Kim’s. She found her ass spanked. She felt her body tremble as Kim suffocated her with that massive booty of hers.

Finally she found herself crawling to the ropes. One last desperate attempt to escape more punishment. But Kim wasn’t having it. She took Beyoncé by the ankles and dragged her back to the center of the ring. The canvas burnt her skin as the friction felt like it was peeling it clean off. Her cheek was crimson red from the amount of times it had run across the mat, posts, and ropes. Her arms were heavy. Her legs wouldn’t listen to her brain. As Kim brought her back up to her feet she knew she couldn’t stand without her tormentor’s support.

Kim wrapped her arms around Beyoncé’s body. She tugged her in real close. Then she lifted her up off of the floor, took one big step, and then BAM. Slammed her into the canvas. Instinctively, Beyoncé’s body spasmed. Her back arched up and she let out a shriek of pain. Her entire world spun around her. Her arms and legs laid limp and utterly useless.

Then she felt a hand tug on the front of her sports bra. Kim was using it to drag her around the ring. When she stoppedBeyoncé thought that was it, but it wasn’t. Kim just wanted to re-adjust to the hair. She brought her hapless victim all around the ring, letting the cameras get perfect angles of Beyoncé’s slack-jawed panting face. Tears streamed down her face, dried, and now began to stream down them again. She had never looked so vulnerable.

After the gloating Kim decided to finally put an end to the superstar. Many expected something dramatic, but Kim had already shown off enough flair. She wanted to beat Beyoncé intimately. In a way that she knew would scar the singer for the rest of her life. In a way that would make Beyoncé flinch every time their eyes met.

Kim strung her victim’s arms across the bottom ropes. She opened Beyoncé’s legs up wide. Then she placed the back of her foe’s head on the turnbuckle. And then Kim mounted her. Her legs spread out across Beyoncé’s hips, pinning them to the canvas. She smacked her across the cheek and then grabbed her by the hair, forcing the singer to look her in the eyes. She stared down at Beyoncé. No words needed to be exchanged. They both knew who was the dominant force. Who was the true Queen between the two of them. In that moment, Kim Kardashian owned Beyoncé.

She brought her legs around Beyoncé’s torso, crossing her shins. Then, she leaned back and allowed her all-powerful thighs to simply crush Beyoncé’s sides. It took seconds for Beyoncé to scream out her submission. She tapped Kim’s flexing thighs over and over again. She wailed, her singing voice going up octave after octave. Her screams pierced the ears of every fan on the lower level of the stadium.

And then… her eyes crossed and head dropped down. Her body went slack. Beyoncé had just been knocked out cold.

Billie Eilish vs Selena Gomez

Billie Eilish

Selena Gomez

A ragdolled Selena Gomez had one question.

No, it wasn’t how she ended up in the position of Billie Eilish’s glistening yet marked up tits engulfing her face. It also wasn’t how she ended up with Billie’s thighs clamped around her ribcage, squeezing her like a tube of toothpaste trying to get every last bit of Selena’s will to go on out of her body.

Selena knew the answer to those questions. In fact, it seemed that so did Vegas. You see, when the news had been announced that Selena Gomez was going to be taking on young hotshot 4-0 rookie Billie Eilish everyone knew that the betting line for this match would be close. Selena was a veteran, but approaching, if not already at, her fighting peak. She wasn’t necessarily a dominant force by any means. But she was good. Very good. Especially in her weight class. Selena had wracked up a few impressive wins of her own, as well as a number of disheartening losses. This wasn’t some insane leap for Billie to take this step in her career, but for some it did seem like a significant one.

So, when the betting line came out and Selena saw herself as a slight underdog she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why.

Well, as Billie pumped her legs and tugged Selena’s non-resistant face deeper into her cleavage she pretty much figured out the answer. But before then, in fact leading all the way up to the fight Selena couldn’t rectify it in her mind. Billie Eilish, a 19-year-old rookie who had beaten absolutely nobody of note?

Sure, she looked dominant doing it, but nobodies are nobodies. Selena had decimated women five times tougher than Billie’s wins. If Billie beat Selena she would be her best win by a ridiculous margin. So why the hell was Billie Eilish favored?

The fight ended up sorting that out. As slight a favorite as Billie was, she didn’t fight like it. She was a woman possessed. Selena hated to admit it, but Billie brought a level of intensity she just didn’t have. She was cold, calculating, and the meanest bitch she had ever shared a mat with.

That isn’t to say Selena didn’t put up a fight. There were plenty of moments where she had Billie looking like she was going to quit. The blonde cursed Selena as the brunette tried to yank, slap, scratch, squeeze, and otherwise bend the other singer into submission. But Billie wouldn’t give. And not only would she not give, she’d find a way out of the situation and put Selena in one twice as painful.

So yes, while both of their bodies were maked up with claw marks and bruises, looking at them side by side would tell you the story of who won. Billie looked like she had been in a fight. Selena looked like she had lost one. And as every last bit of her spirit was being crushed and/or suffocated from her, Selena had only one question before she finally passed out.

Why the hell wasn’t Billie a much bigger favorite?


Offline The Syndicate

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Re: Finish Her!
« Reply #2356 on: April 07, 2023, 07:14:12 PM »
More old stories, note that some of the ages may be off due to them being previously written:

Rachel Brosnahan vs Scarlett Johansson
A Titfighting Finish Her Story

Rachel Brosnahan

Scarlett Johansson

“Wow, I’m impressed,” said Scarlett with that signature smirk on her face.

Rachel had the blonde pinned to the wall. Her bare tits glued to her opponent’s. And yet it was clear from the look on each woman’s face that Rachel was far from in control. The brunette’s jaw clenched. Her eyes were wide. Her nostrils flared with frustration and fury. She kept her chest suction-cupped to Scarlett’s, doing all she could to grind her tits down into dust. And yet as much as she pressed her chest into the blonde’s, there was no budging.

Sure, she had been able to hurt Scarjo. Even now while she smirked the blonde let out small whimpers of pain as Rachel forcibly thumped her chest. She knew she was hurting Scarjo. She knew if she could hurt her she could beat her. And yet the blonde’s chest remained as steadfast as ever. Rachel had never encountered a pair of tits like this in her life. She had heard legend of Scarlett’s titfighting prowess, but now as she wasted energy trying to conquer them she realized hearing a legend and fighting one are two very different things.

In order to turn the tide Scarlette simply had to arch her back a bit and soon Rachel’s chest popped off of her own. With their hands intertwined, the blonde and brunette went back at it again. Ramming their tits against one another, trying to gain supremacy over the other. Even with five years of youth on Scarlett, Rachel could feel her chest was nowhere near as rock-solid as the blonde’s. She knew the only way to win this fight was to get her opponent on the ground and let gravity shift the tides.

“They really are quite good,” gasped out Scarlett’s raspy voice.

Rachel had hit her hard and the little gasp told her she might be cutting through the blonde’s defenses.

“Yeah,” said Rachel. “Good enough to take down the all-mighty Scarlett Johansson!”

Rachel went all out. She rammed her chest into Scarjo’s again and blasted the blonde backwards. As Scarjo stumbled Rachel saw her chance. She kept the pressure on, guiding her away from the wall and down tot he floor. The brunette’s bare breasts landed with a deafening thump on the blonde’s pair. Scarlett let out a wail of pain. Rachel had her. She knew she had her.

The brunette let gravity assist her in the bludgeoning. Up and down, back and forth. She crashed into Scarlett’s chest like waves of the ocean crashed into walls of a castle. The blonde’s face contorted with pain. She felt the full power of Brosnahan’s bosom. Scarlett’s breasts held firm for what seemed like an eternity. Rachel continued to pour all of the pressure she could downwards. Their chests were roughly the same size and shape, but for some reason Scarjo’s firmness had yet to give way. Rachel continued to pick herself up and drop down on the blonde. Hoping that seizmich shots mammary to mammary would shake the blonde’s foundation.

And then she felt it. She felt the stone-walled world famous Scarlett Johansson tits soften. What followed was a throaty groan. Unlike the small shrieks that had escaped Scarjo’s lips before. No, this was a groan of real pain. A groan of acknowledgement. An acknowledgement that her tits just began to soften. And Rachel knew she had her. The world famous titfighting champion herself, Scarlett Johansson was about to meet the end of her reign.

Rachel lined her nipples up with Scarlett’s. She pressed herself down slowly. She felt sharp resistance, but didn’t yield. She pushed down to the point where her own nipples could stand firm as well. Then she began to circle herself clockwise. Her pink stiffies kneading into the flesh of Scarlett’s chest. Slowly. Methodically. She had used her chest like a battering ram all fight, now it was time for Rachel to use them as a more elegant weapon. As one of conquest. She began to make more and more headway, each moan slipping from Scarlett’s mouth louder and raspier. The blonde’s chest slowly began to give with each rotation. Barely, but enough for Rachel to feel it.

“Ohhh fuckkkk” the raspy moans of Scarlett grew throatier, more agonized.

Scarjo had lost titfights before, but this? This was new. This was a beating. This wasn’t just size winning out, it was blunt force trauma mixed with painfully painted-on determination. She tried over and over again to lift herself up to no avail. Rachel had her. And after she finished grinding her tits into two flat pancakes sat atop her chest, the brunette went back to the blunt force. Lifting up and slamming her tits on Scarlett’s. Over and over again. She did it until all of the breath was forced from the blonde’s lungs.

The champion began to wheeze. And with the wheezing came the drooling. With the drooling came the tears. With the tears came the eyes fluttering. And then came acceptance. Scarlett couldn’t take it anymore. She needed Rachel to stop thumping her chest into dust.

“I give,” Scarlett said with a wheeze. “You win… I give up.”

But Rachel paid no attention to Scarlett’s pleading. The thumping continued. It continued until the blonde passed out. It continued until a gaggle of the crowd pried Rachel from the body. They dragged the brunette off of the unconscious blonde. But there was nothing but fire in Rachel’s eyes. She had just conquered the queen of the titfight, and all she wanted was to keep on beating her.

“Scarlett Johnasson,” she called out. “What a fucking joke!!!”

Eilish vs Minaj
A Finish Her Story

Billie Eilish
5’3” 134lbs 20 y/o


Nicki Minaj
5’2” 137lbs 39 y/o


“I thought you were the new hotness?” mocked Nicki as her palm cupped Billie’s dangling right breast.

Billie had wanted Nicki Minaj. The freshly turned 20-year-old had wracked up an impressive undefeated start to her fighting career and after a dominant win against Selena Gomez, she figured she was ready for a step up. So, she told her team she wanted Minaj. They tried to talk her out of it. They told her that Zendaya was interested. That Chloe Moretz would do it. Just pick someone who was a rational, responsible fighter. But Billie wanted Nicki.

After twelve minutes, Billie no longer wanted any part of Nicki Minaj. The rapper had employed the usual dose of hairpulling, slapping, and clawing that Billie had come to expect from a catfight. But the amount of titmauling and cxntbusing she experienced took the popstar by surprise. Twelve minutes in, and she was face down on the floor, her top shredded to pieces, her pussy getting pounded over and over again by Nicki’s knees, and her right breast getting absolutely crushed.


Nicki’s knee continued to pound away at Billie’s mound. The pop star sobbed. Nicki used her free hand to take a handful of blonde hair and forced Billie’s face up off of the ground. Eilish had never looked like this. Desperate. Degraded. Destroyed.

Minaj leaned into Billie’s ear and said, “You might be tough fuckin’ around with all them Disney bitches. But next to me you ain’t shit, got it?”

Billie let out a moan and replied, “Mmmm… yeeeesssss…”

“Who owns this cxnt?” Nicki asked, her knee continuing to pound away.

“Ughnfff…. Nicki Minaj,” Billie said.

“And who owns these tits?”

“Nicki… Minaj.”

“And who owns this hair?”

“N… Nicki… M… Minaj.”

“And who owns you, ho?”

Billie bursted into tears again as she cried out, “NICKI MINAJ!!!”

Nicki let go of Billie’s hair and tit. She rose to her feet, looking down at her handiwork. She planted her foot on Billie’s ass and dug her heel in one last time for good measure. Then she stomped out of the room, leaving the young formerly unbeaten pop star to reckon with the fact that she wasn’t quite the unbeatable badass she thought she was.

Emilia Clarke vs Kristen Bell

Emilia Clarke
5’2” 115lbs 35 y/o


Kristen Bell
5’1” 105lbs  41 y/o


Emilia’s back splattered in the cold paint. She let out an agonized groan. Kristen Bell rolled on top of her. The last few minutes had been an absolute slog. Both women rolled around in the paint, wrestling for top position. Emilia had found Kirsten to be an annoyingly spry and enthusiastic opponent, unwilling to allow the brit to simply settle on top of her. Try as she might, Emilia couldn’t seem to keep her smaller blonde opponent under her for too long.

The back of her brunette locks were thick with paint, as was her t-shirt. Some of the substance had begun to dry on her arms and crack. But soon she would find herself rolling around in a fresher patch and another coat would cover her. It was on her face, her pants, in her ear, nose, mouth, and some had even slipped into more delicate places. She could only imagine Kristen was going through the same level of discomfort as her.

But, it was now the blonde who had settled on top. Kristen wanted to make sure she took advantage of this situation, so she slid her hands up from Emilia’s shoulders and into her hair. She leaned her body down, allowing her cleavage to press down on her opponents. Emilia let out another agonized groan, so Kristen figured she must be doing something right. Just as she planned to slam herself body-first on Emilia again though, the brit planted her feet in the viscous substance and snapped her hips.

Now it was Kristen’s turn to splat in the paint and let out an agonized groan. She tried to keep Emilia off of her and tugged her hair away from her. Emilia couldn’t seem to get her balance, so Kristen tried to flip them again. She succeeded. Emilia’s groan was now agonized and frustrated. She couldn’t understand why she couldn’t keep Kristen pinned down. Emilia flipped them again. Then Kristen flipped them right back. Emilia flipped Kristen. Kristen clamped her thighs around Emilia’s right leg and flipped them once more.

Emilia was now panting. Kristen gave her a sharp tug of the hair, forcing the brunette’s paint-splattered face to contort in pain. With her left hand, Kristen put it on Emilia’s jaw and pushed her head up at a sharp angle. Emilia planted her feet as best she could and tried to flip herself on top of Kristen… but this time it didn’t work. Emilia let out a distressed moan and tried it again. But now she couldn’t get the blonde to budge an inch. Kristen smiled. She had done it… Emilia was exhausted!!!

The brunette let out throaty, desperate cries as she tried over and over to flip Kristen. It may as well have been trying to move a 400lbs boulder. Bell was going nowhere. Emilia realized she had been worn down. Her limbs felt weighed down by some invisible force. They felt both stiff and limp at the same time. Her breathing had become labored, her jaw hanging open trying to gulp in as much air as she could. Her chest rapidly rose and fell.

Kristen kept her pinned though. She kept a hand in that hair and tugged it back every now and then to get another audible expression of pain out of her suffering foe. Kristen moved her hand over Emilia’s mouth and nose. The brit tried to pull the blonde’s hand away, but she couldn’t seem to get that to budge either. With her air supply cutoff, Emilia soon felt light-headed. Her entire body began to tingle. Kristen relented after a while, but not before she was sure Emilia could no longer fight back.

“I’ve always wanted to do this…” Kristen said.

She wasn’t entirely sure if she had ever breast-smothered someone before. It’s possible she had, but it wasn’t exactly a go-to move for the comedic actress. Kristen was well aware of where her strengths lied when it came to fights. Legs and stamina. If she could incorporate those things, she could win. The problem was often her stature, which allowed her to get bullied. But not so against Emilia. Despite a ten pound disadvantage, Kristen stayed focussed and catty. She had worn down her beautiful brunette opponent, and now she could try something she rarely, if ever got to try. Kristen looked down at her paint-covered boobs. She had to admit… they looked fantastic. Perhaps it was the support her tight red outfit was giving her, but they looked positively huge! More than big enough to make an already delirious woman succumb, at least.

So, Kristen wrapped her arms around the back of Emilia’s head. The brunette muttered some incoherent protest and weakly tried to push at Kristen’s shoulders. But there was no stopping it at this point. She was too worn down to stop her. Kristen’s breasts slid over Emilia’s face, covering her nose and mouth fairly easily. The blonde even felt it necessary to rotate her shoulders, making sure Emilia’s nose was battered by her tits. The hold didn’t last long. It didn’t need to. Before long Emilia was fast asleep under Kristen’s chest.

Bell dropped her opponent in the paint. Some more of it went flying in every direction. She took Emilia’s thin wet, white t-shirt and ripped it open down the middle. Then, she took two heaping handfuls of paint and slathered Emilia’s bare breasts with it. The stiff pink nipples pointing toward the sky soon were covered in a mixture of blue, orange, and yellow paint. She rubbed it all up and down Emilia’s torso, making sure she painted every inch of it. Then, she tugged her pants off and began the same process with her legs. Finally, she cupped as much paint as she could and began to pour it over the knocked out face of Emilia Clarke. By the time Kristen was finished, Emilia had looked like a rainbow.

A very sleepy, very pathetic rainbow.

Scarlett Johansson vs Alice Eve

Scarlett Johansson
5’3” 126lbs 37 y/o 32D


Alice Eve
5’5” 123lbs 39 y/o 32D


The event was a simple one. Scarlett Johansson and Alice Eve locked in a hands-off titfight battle. The result twenty-three minutes in… was less clear.

It was hard not to find a person not talking about the fight. Especially since Scarlett’s shocking loss to Rachel Brosnahan a few months prior. Since that fight Scarjo had stayed out of the fighting life all together. Was she training? Was she retired? Nobody knew. Until a few weeks prior it had been announced that she and Alice Eve were to go bosom to bosom. The two had never clashed. But it had long been debated who had the better chest between the two. They were similar in age, height, weight, and cup size. So it was only natural that they’d be compared. Not to mention the national pride each woman carried with them.

So, when viewers tuned in to see the two busty blondes go boob-to-boob there were a few questions on everyone’s minds. Was Scarlett’s loss to Rachel a bump in the road to an otherwise spectacular titfighting career? Or had she finally lost her touch that made her such a once-vicious foe? And for Alice, could she hang with a legend like Scarjo? She was considered a fine titfighter, to be sure. But at almost 40 she had never faced someone with the stature of Johansson.

Twenty-three minutes. The two women grunted, banged, smooshed, squealed, pushed, pressed, sweated, cried, and squeezed themselves together for twenty-three minutes. And still no winner had been decided.

Scarlett came in as the slight favorite, and anyone with money on the match was sitting on the edge of their seats. Even those who didn’t bet on the outcome had their eyes glued to their screens. Whose chest would finally collapse? Who would no longer be able to take the pressure anymore? Who would finally win a decades old debate?


It had happened. One of the fighters had screamed so loud that it shook everyone other than her tormentor to the bone. And the voice was an undeniable one. It was distinct. It was remarkable. Nobody else could have screamed like that…

It was the raspy, throaty yelp of Scarlett Johansson. Alice Eve, arms wrapped around her opponent, had finally locked in the bearhug that did it. She could feel Scarlett’s firm mountains begin to betray their owner. Their bare orbs glued together, they both knew this mutual bearhug would likely be the last stand for one of them. And as Scarlett felt her breasts begin to cave in, she knew it was over. Her face contorted in agony. Her body shook from head to toe. Her sweat-soaked tits glistened as they began to pancake under Alice’s pressure.

Scarlett’s back hit the wall.

“Oh god,” she panted.

Alice moved her hands from around Johansson’s body and to her wrists. There, she pinned her fellow blonde’s hands to the wall without any resistance. Alice peeled her breasts from Scarlett’s. Then she began ramming them forward, pulling them back, then ramming them again. The sound of their flesh colliding echoed throughout the almost silent room. The only noise that cut through the sound were Scarlett’s incoherent groans and begs for mercy. But Alice continued. She ignored Johansson’s pleas. She knew she had won… this was about proving a point.

The London native rolled her shoulders, steamrolling her foe’s already defeated tits. The groaning, the tears, the begging… they all gave Alice an enormous sense of superiority. But nothing compared to the actual feeling of another woman’s chest flattening under hers. And to do it to such a famous bosom… Alice could barely hold back her excitement.

After the torture and thorough smooshing, Alice only said one thing.

“Your tits were devastatingly overrated, dear.”

And with that she released Scarlett from her hold. The Brit turned around as she scooped up Scarlett’s bra which had been removed pre-fight and held it over her head like a trophy. Then she scooped her own up and put it back on. She gave one last glance back at the sobbing Johansson, who was clutching her battered breasts and hanging her head. Then, Alice simply smirked and exited the arena, sure of her superiority over the “great” Scarlett Johansson.


Offline The Syndicate

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Re: Finish Her!
« Reply #2357 on: April 07, 2023, 07:26:44 PM »
Rivalries at War: A Finish Her Story

Bella Thorne & Chloe Grace Moretz vs Emma Watson & Kristen Stewart

Bella Thorne
5’8” 124lbs 24 y/o 32D


Chloe Grace Moretz
5’4” 128lbs 24 y/o 32A


Emma Watson
5’5” 117lbs 31 y/o 32B


Kristen Stewart
5’5” 120lbs 31 y/o 32B


It had taken twenty minutes. Twenty grueling minutes of hairpulling, slapping, body blows, pinning, reversals, tears, moans, and swears… but Chloe finally had her. She twisted her fingers into Emma’s hair while she mounted the Brit’s back. Her legs clamped around her older foe’s waist. The telltale signs of deadweight and uncontrolled panting told Chloe that Emma’s body had just quit on her. She took this moment to sneak a peek over at how her “teammate” was faring. Not quite as well. Bella’s signature fire-red hair was thin and frazzled. Her make-up smeared and cheeks red from the relentless assault Kristen Stewart had launched upon her. To be honest, though… Chloe didn’t mind.

She had only agreed to this pairing so that she could get her hands on Emma. As much as Chloe couldn’t stand Bella, she couldn’t pass up the chance to take out Miss Watson. And so that’s the deal she made. One with the devil she knew. Bella was initially skeptical. Who could blame her? At any moment Chloe could have turned on her, made it a 3v1 pounding. But something in the way Chloe looked at Emma made the redhead feel secure. The smaller blonde looked at Emma… well the way she looked at Bella. With utter disdain. This comforted Bella in a way. She knew that as long as Watson was in the fight, she didn’t have to worry about being betrayed. However, as Kristen Stewart took a handful of her hair and used it to throw Bella into the wall, she thought maybe she had made a huge mistake.

Kristen knew it was in her best interest to go help Emma. After all, she was currently bringing Bella up to her feet by force, but she knew the girl was still a ways away from breaking completely. Hell, she might even start whooping Kristen again. The fight hadn’t been all Stewart. Sure, she agreed to pair up with Emma but only with the thought in the back of her mind that Bella Thorne would weaken her to the point of exhaustion. That plan didn’t quite go as planned, however as it became clear Chloe was the one with eyes for Emma. This made Kristen’s job much more difficult in her estimation. She had pegged Bella as the bigger threat between the two, and for a lot of the fight it definitely seemed that way. Bella’s size caused Kristen all sorts of problems early on as the redhead overpowered her and essentially kept her underneath that tall, athletic frame of hers. But, Kristen clawed her way back to the point where now it was Bella letting out squeals of pain. Kristen thought she could finish the girl… but as she saw the glazed-over teary-eyed face on Emma’s face she realized her fighting partner was finished. She should know… she caused that look to be plastered across Emma’s face plenty of times.

There was no other way to put it: Emma was exhausted. She had thrown everything she had at Chloe. Every trick in the book. Even things she didn’t even try at her most hated rival, Kristen. Nothing could seem to break the smaller girl’s spirit. And twenty agonizing minutes had culminated in where she was now. Her head was yanked up as Chloe pinned her chest-first into the carpeting. Emma let out a yelp. Maybe it was a subconscious call to Kristen. Man, Emma never thought she’d want to see Kristen Stewart in the middle of a fight. But now, she’d welcome her longtime enemy with open arms. Chloe grabbed Emma’s left wrist and brought it behind her own back. Then, she jammed it up as far as she could. Watson screamed. Chloe brought her legs forward, snapping her thighs around Emma’s ribcage as her ankles locked in front of Emma’s face. Watson screamed louder. Her eyes began to leak streams of tears. She had fought Chloe with every ounce of passion she had… and the small blonde was on the verge of snuffing out the last bit of fight she possessed.

Kristen pulled Bella up by the hair. Chloe continued to squeeze Emma senseless. Bella groaned as her knees buckled. Emma screamed through sobbing tears.

At that moment Kristen and Chloe’s eyes met. They knew they had to come to a decision… do they stay enemies or possibly handle each other’s rivals. Kristen gave Chloe a small nod. Moretz smirked as she released Emma’s wrist and now went two-hands in the Brit’s hair. Stewart’s backhand practically spun Bella around. Then, she rushed the redhead in a reverse bearhug, which she then turned into a lift and slam. The sounds of agony that emanated from Bella and Emma’s lips might as well have been sweet music to their own partner’s ears. Kristen’s forearm slipped across Bella’s throat as she squeezed the redhead with all she had. Emma’s screams were becoming less loud and her head had begun to slump forward.

It only took about a minute for both women to lie unconscious on the hotel suite floor. Kristen and Chloe each rose to their feet.

“Kristen,” said Stewart as she extended her hand.

“Chloe,” said Moretz in return, shaking Kristen’s hand. “Guess we should call it a draw then, huh?”

“I think that’s for the best,” Kristens said as she took Chloe’s arm and began to walk out of the room with her. “You’re going to have to tell me how you wore Emma out like that! I mean that’s a thing of beauty.”

“No problem,” replied Chloe. “As long as you tell me how you made Bella your own personal ragdoll.”

The two women left their respective “teammates” splayed out across the floor. Their bodies were covered with bruises and scratches. Strands of hair and patches of clothing missing. When they awoke they each would wonder who had won the fight. Only to realize that nobody had won… only they had lost.

Emma Watson vs Mila Kunis

Emma Watson
5’5” 117lbs 31 y/o


Mila Kunis
5’4” 115lbs 38 y/o


To put it nicely… both of these women needed a win. Their prides were on the line. For Emma, she had just gotten thoroughly demolished at the hands of her second most prominent rival, Chloe Moretz. While in a doubles catfight with her main rival, Kristen Stewart, Moretz was able to take control early and cease to let up. Emma’s pride was terribly hurt and her reputation taken down a peg. After all, she was over 30 now. Perhaps the sporty Brit silver screen darling no longer had “it” anymore. Perhaps she was old news. It happens to celebrities who started fighting at her age all the time. You burst on the scene and then fizzle out.

Emma was determined to prove that wasn’t the case.

Likewise, Mila was also in the midst of licking her wounds. After a fight with Margot Robbie over a movie role, Mila was left utterly shredded in her own home. The news of their fight spread like wildfire and it just became accepted that Kunis, almost 40, was simply no longer much of a threat anymore. Sure, she might pick on some young never-was. But to beat a truly high profile opponent? Those days were gone.

Mila disagreed.

So, naturally the two women who needed a win most found each other. Then they fought each other. Whilst in Emma’s trailer for her next project, the two 30-something actresses absolutely went to town on each other. The entire place rocked back and forth. There were screams and squeals that leaked out from the trailer, but nobody dared open it. Everyone knew what was happening in there. Everyone knew it was between Emma and Mila. So, the squeals and banging continued as the two actresses conducted their own private war inside. They fought for what seemed like ages, but in reality it was only about twenty-five minutes.
Emma leaned against the countertop of her kitchenette, clutching the side of her head. Her hair sleek and stuck to her cheeks by sweat. Her face sported four distinctive claw marks that ran from the right side of her forehead all the way down to her chin. The makeup department was going to love that. Her clothes, of course, were almost completely shredded. She sported the decrepit remains of a white t-shirt barely clinging to her body, while her shorts had been stripped from her long ago. Of course, Emma’s body sported bruises and claw marks as well. Running from the base of her collarbone across the top of her cleavage were pale red nail marks. She had a bruise on her left thigh. Her right ass cheek was bright red. And to the left of her belly button was a bite mark. All in all, she looked like she had just gotten into a fight with a lioness. In away she had.

Mila was no stranger to battle scars, either. Her chest and right cheek were beat red from the unholy amount of slaps that Emma had rained down upon her. Her dark raven locks were an absolute mess, with much of them scattered along the carpeting of the trailer. Mila’s top was gone completely, though she willingly removed it after it had gotten in the way too often. Her daisy dukes still remained, though the legs they showed off were all scraped and scratched. She stood with her hand on the living area table, rubbing her cheek as she shot Emma the dirtiest look imaginable.

So far, the two combatants had been equals. Neither one gaining the advantage they so desperately fought for. But, that was about to change. As Emma moved towards Mila, the Brit tried again to latch onto her rival’s hair. She whipped Mila’s head back and forth, the Ukranian’s body stumbling along. Emma’s chest swelled with pride as she controlled the action. A harsh knee to Kunis’s stomach had the older woman doubled over. Then, it was simply a matter of tossing her head-first into the cabinets. Kunis dropped. Her hands slid down the wooden cabinets as she attempted to get to her feet, but Emma was on her quickly. She took another handful of hair and yanked Mila’s head back. She stuck a knee in her spine.

Her jaw clenched, Emma leaned down and said, “Give. Up.”

Mila would be lying if she said she didn’t want to. Oh how she wanted to give in. Emma had pushed her to her limits and beyond. The sweet, innocent posh starlet surely didn’t have it in her to be that catty. Mila had heard the stories of Emma’s victories, but they just didn’t seem true. They completely conflicted with every public image Emma had ever attempted to build. But Mila had found out first-hand not to judge a book by its cover. Kunis refused to give in, so Emma bent her back even more sharply over her knee. Then, she raised her left hand and began to mercilessly barrage Mila’s cheeks with slaps. As if her face wasn’t already marked up enough, Mila had to just take the slaps as she tried to pull Emma’s iron-clad grip from her hair. She moved Watson’s wrists, but with it came yet another chunk of hair. Mila held back tears as the hair follicles were ripped from her scalp. But it gave the older actress an opportunity.

With her hair no longer in Emma’s clutches, Mila threw her head back. It sunk perfectly into Watson’s abdomen. The Brit doubled over, backing away as she cradled her stomach. But, before she could get too far, Mila reached back and sunk her knees into both sides of Emma’s temples. Emma did most of the work for her. As she backed away, the younger woman had inadvertently caused more damage as Mila’s nails scraped down the side of her face. Emma stumbled back, her ass plopping on the couch in the living area. Kunis turned and saw an opening. She grabbed hold of Emma’s ankles and tugged her down onto the floor with her. Emma’s head hit the floor with a loud *THUNK*. Mila crawled on top of her prey. She twisted her fingers in Emma’s hair and brought the younger actress’s head up off of the floor. Then, she wallopped her with the hardest combination of front-handed and back-handed slaps she could muster. When Emma didn’t cover up, Mila did it again. Emma’s head snapped back and forth, back and forth. Over and over again. The brit only offered up squeals and moans in return. That’s when Mila realized what had happened… she had just taken the fight out of Emma.

Dazed, hurt, and now pinned, Emma could no longer summon the confidence to fight back. She had given it her all against Mila. She had stood her ground and tried every trick she knew. She got as catty and nasty as possible. And it still wasn’t enough. She didn’t have enough to make Mila quit. To break her spirit. But Mila had enough to break Emma’s. And as Emma laid there with limbs limp and eyes closed, her face getting brutally snapped back and forth with each snap, she began to wonder if the rumors about her were true. Was she finished? Did she no longer have that “it” factor? If Mila Kunis could beat her, who couldn’t? That’s when Emma started to cry. Kunis’s hands started to get wet from the moisture of the tears and the slapping sound of flesh-on-flesh had a little added oomph to it.

Mila meanwhile was overjoyed with this outcome. She was slapping Emma Watson silly and there was nothing the British bitch could do about it! Forget Margot Robbie, that loss would be forgotten. Beating Emma Watson? Well, that’s a career-defining achievement. And Mila realized perhaps her career was far from over. Maybe, it was just beginning. Still, she had to savor the moment somehow.

Mila stopped slapping Emma and quickly grabbed the tattered remains of her top. She hoisted Emma’s shoulders off of the floor and then leaned forward as the beaten woman’s head flopped back. Mila stuck out her tongue and in one long, deliberate lick, lapped up the tears flowing down Emma’s left cheek. Then, she did it again with the right.

“Fucking delicious,” said Mila Kunis.

Kiernan Shipka vs Emma Watson

Kiernan Shipka
5’2” 102lbs 22 y.o.


Emma Watson
5’5” 114lbs 32 y.o.


In baseball, there is a term known as the Mendoza line. It’s used in reference to a former MLB player Mike Mendoza, who didn’t hit very well. It means that if you’re below that level of play that you’re struggling. Emma had heard the whispers before her fight with Kiernan about a “Watson line.” That if you can’t beat Emma Watson, you might as well pack it in. Emma knew about this rumor and still went out and embarrassed herself. She thought about this and could no longer keep it together.

Emma Watson couldn’t breathe. The forearm of Kiernan Shipka had clamped down around her windpipe. Additionally, Shipka’s legs had found themselves around Emma’s torso and were squeezing any remaining air from her lungs. Her head felt light as air. Her body slightly warm and tingly. Hair was stuck to her lips and in her mouth, but those were clearly the least of the British actress’s worries. Her most pressing worry was the fact that no oxygen was entering her body. There were other problems too. Like the fact that the sides of her abdomen burned in agony. Plus, she was currently losing to a smaller, younger, less experienced opponent which was made worse by the fact that everyone seemed to think they looked alike. Emma knew a loss like this would be one she never lived down, and yet she couldn’t find it in herself to fight back. She was exhausted. Worn out by a more energetic, and fitter opponent. It was bad enough she had to suffer through recent losses to Chloe Moretz and Mila Kunis, but this… well this felt like an all-time low.

Kiernan was scrawny. Not much muscle to her body. In fact, in the early goings of the fight Emma thought this would be a five minute contest. She easily overwhelmed the smaller and younger actress. But Kiernan kept fighting. She kept escaping. She kept coming at Emma. And eventually, Emma got slow while Kiernan stayed quick. Then, the ass kicking commenced. Emma found herself at Kiernan’s mercy as the American clawed, slapped, squeezed, and stretched her way into the victory position she had taken up. Emma’s feet kicked the floor. Her hands weakly tugged at Kiernan’s arm, but there was no escaping this. Emma felt a deep sense of embarrassment wash over her as she thought about what a loss like this would do to her reputation. Kiernan not only would have left her body in tatters, but her prestige as well.

Over a decade of fights… and now all of a sudden Emma would be known as “easy” or a “pushover.” Or even worse, perhaps she’d be called a “stepping stone.” A placeholder for girls on their way up to beat. Girls like Kiernan who had so much of her fighting career ahead of her. Emma remembered when she was a young up and comer… now she was thirty and on the verge of a three fight losing streak. The tears began to stream. She tapped on Kiernan’s arm, signaling her surrender to the younger actress. Kiernan gave her one last squeeze, then finally released her victim.

If there was a Watson line, Kiernan had just cleared it with ease.

Ariel Winter vs Emma Watson
A Messy Finish Her Story

Ariel Winter
5’1” 134lbs 38-38-34 32D 24 y/o


Emma Watson
5’5” 114lbs 34-23-34 32B 32 y/o


Emma wondered how it came to this. Wrestling some ensemble sitcom cast member for clout. She knew Ariel Winter was dangerous. Hell, one look at her curves told Emma everything she needed to know about how brutal a fight this was going to be. But she was Emma fucking Watson. She should be fighting Kristen Stewart, Scarlett Johansson, Margot Robbie… not some tv star on a show that wasn’t even airing anymore. And certainly not in some mud hole in the middle of nowhere with a crowd drunk on warm beer hooting and hollering at them. But, three straight losses to Chloe Moretz, Mila Kunis, and Kiernan Shipka had forced her to take a fight she wouldn’t normally take.

She felt she had done well considering the circumstances. The thick mud had lent itself to Ariel’s style. Emma’s normally quick and agile plan of attack was hindered while Ariel was able to get in close. Winter had taken Emma down to the mud at least six times while Emma hadn’t been on top once. Still, she had been able to slip out from under her heavier foe each time. She knew what Ariel was trying to accomplish. Hell, everyone in the audience knew. Ariel wanted to plant Emma’s face under her enormous chest and smother out the British movie star. So far that had been avoided.

The two women stood, Emma’s back coated with mud. Ariel looked relatively clean next to her opponent, though still sported some mud-caked shins and forearms. A smattering of mud was across both of their faces and fronts, but not much. They sunk about ankle deep into the muck, each step forward took significant effort for the worn down women. Their arms hit one another’s shoulders. Ariel ducked underneath Emma’s and let her body slam forward. With twenty pounds of advantage, she charged forward through the mud, forcing Emma’s feet through it. The British celebrity however had chosen her moment. She bent her knees and snapped her hips, tossing a shocked Ariel down to the ground.


Emma pounced. She laid her body flat across Ariel’s and moved her hands up to the other woman’s palms. She pinned her down, but Ariel quickly bucked her hips up, rolling Emma onto her back. Emma’s eyes widened. She felt her hands sink deep into the mud. Ariel stretched her out. The moment that everyone had been waiting for happened. Ariel’s massive chest covered Emma’s entire face. The two women struggled a bit in the mud, but Emma was firmly pinned. She didn’t have the strength to overcome a 20 pound difference. The back of her head sunk into the mud as the weight of Ariel’s chest pressed down. The crowd lost their minds as Ariel proudly smirked, puffing her chest out to fully encapsulate Emma. She continued to spread out her arms, really making sure she let the Brit know who was on top. The pinned woman tried to thrust her hips up, but Ariel refused to be bucked. She planted Emma’s hips back down into the mud, sinking her ass down. This gave Emma just a little bit of space though, and she was able to turn her head. The left side of her face sunk into the mud as it poured into her nostril and mouth. Ariel soon realized she was no longer smothering her opponent… and that just would not do.

Yanking Emma up off of the ground, Ariel wrapped her arms around her and pulled her in tight. Emma was able to move to the side a bit, but she still felt her body crushed between Ariel’s arms and torso. She moved her hands, covered with mud, up to Ariel’s face and began to push. The mud ran into the American’s eyes and Emma felt the grip loosen. She began to slide down her opponent’s curvier body until she fully fell to the ground, slipping free. Ariel reached down for Emma’s hair, but the Brit quickly acted. She took Ariel’s ankles in her hands, and pulled. Winter’s body flopped backwards at an instant ninety degree angle and her back splatted into the mud again.

Watson once again quickly moved. She got to her feet and stood over Ariel. Bending over, she began to slap Winter’s face back and forth. The sitcom star kicked her foot up, hitting Emma on the back of her right knee, which buckled and dropped into the mud. Emma quickly snapped her hands to the ground, they sank up to her wrists, but she was able to balance herself. Ariel’s hands flew up, clasping Emma’s on the back of the head. She began to pull down. Emma gritted her teeth as she felt her neck strain. She tried to get her right foot under her and push upwards with her hands. Still bent over, she had to try to power out of Ariel’s grip. Her body shook with effort. She couldn’t rise any more though. They were stuck in a stalemate, neither woman willing to give in. Ariel’s power pouring down on her neck, Emma let out a long, whiny moan as she tried to fight off the pain.

Eventually though, Emma felt her head begin to dip. Her right knee sank back down into the mud. Her body slowly began to flatten out. Her face dropped perfectly dead-center into Ariel’s cleavage. Ariel Winter had overpowered her yet again. Emma’s hands uselessly slipped off of Ariel’s shoulders as she tried to push herself up. There was no grip to get, though. And with every passing moment Emma’s attempts to free herself became weaker. She laid down completely flat across Ariel’s body now, which made it incredibly easy for Winter to flip their positions. Emma’s back once again sank in the mud while her hands desperately slid off of Ariel’s shoulders.

“No escape this time,” Ariel mocked. “You might be a big deal out there. But when it comes to in here, you’re fucking mine!”

Emma’s muffled moans and pathetic attempts to free herself eventually subsided. Her body went slack. Ariel lowered Emma’s head down into the mud before peeling her magnificent cleavage off of her face. Ariel sat up, put her hands on her hips and beamed at the crowd. It was messy, but it was one hell of a win.

Emma Watson vs Millie Bobby Brown

Emma Watson
5’5” 114lbs 34-23-34 32B 32 y/o


Millie Bobby Brown
5’4” 115lbs 34-23-34 34B 18 y/o


Millie had waited ages for this.

She had known for a very long time who she wanted her first ever catfighting opponent to be. Some had suggested her Stranger Things co-star Sadie Sink. Others suggested other rising stars like Kieran Shipka or Olivia Rodrigo. She would get to them in time. For now though, she wanted Emma Watson. She had always wanted Emma to be her first fight. Now over 30, Emma had become a veteran of the fighting game. No longer was she the shiny new toy of everyone’s affection. She represented a generation gone by in fighting. And Millie was out to prove she was the newer, better generation.

Emma at first was hesitant to accept the fight. After all, she had been having a rough go of it. Four straight losses sat next to her record. First Chloe Moretz, then Mila Kunis, Kieran Shipka, and finally she had found herself squashed in a mud pit by Ariel Winter. By taking on Millie she had been boxed into a no-win situation. If she beat the newcomer everyone would say this was to be expected. After all, Millie had no fighting experience whatsoever. It would be like punching down. However, if she lost… well that would be utterly devastating to Emma’s already plummeting reputation. But there was more to it than that. Emma deep down had hoped to help guide Millie through the wild world of celebrity catfights. She knew Millie was the bright new star of Britain and wanted to help her ascend the heights that she had when she was younger. Instead, it seemed Millie was insistent on making them rivals. Well, so be it.

The two British stars were completely entangled on the floor of the hotel suite. Their legs were all twisted together like pretzels and each one of them had their hands in the other’s hair. Millie had shown she was for real. She had attacked Emma early and often, putting the veteran on her heels. For the first ten minutes of the fight Millie had thoroughly dominated her opponent, whipping her around the room, shredding her clothes to pieces, yanking her every which way by the hair, and squeezing the life out of her any chance she got. Emma was a veteran, though. A savvy one at that. Slowly she began to chip away at Millie. It wasn’t obvious. A slap here. A tug of the hair there. She kept escaping from under Millie and slipping in and out of her control. Twenty minutes in and Emma had finally fought her explosive foe to a standstill.

Millie’s hands remained firmly entrenched in Emma’s hair. She slowly began to sit herself up and crane Watson’s head back. Emma held her position firm. Her neck strained, but even as Millie began to untangle her legs, the older woman remained determined not to give up any ground. Soon, Millie completely unfurled her legs and was able to mount Emma around the waist. With a sharp tug and a sudden chest-first lunge forward, Millie overpowered Emma and knocked the veteran actress to her back. However, Emma popped up her hips and rolled. She took the younger woman by surprise and was able to completely flip positions. Now with Emma on top, she could finally take control of the fight.

Or so she thought…

Emma released her grasp on Millie’s hair and tried to gain control of her wrists. She was able to gruelingly make some headway, separating Millie’s hands from her scalp. Millie was too quick, though and slipped her legs between the two of them. She extended them suddenly, kicking Emma back. The older actress stumbled onto her ass. Millie scrambled to her feet and then launched herself at her newly-minted rival. After a few more seconds of hairpulling and rolling around on the floor, Millie had been able to wrap her legs around the ribcage of her opponent. With both of her hands once more deeply entrenched in Emma’s hair, Millie yanked her foe’s head back as her thighs squeezed together.

Emma Watson shrieked in pain.

Millie forced her way on top of Emma, straddling her opponent. She picked her head up and started to slam it down onto the floor. Emma pushed up against Milie’s jaw. Struggling and squirming, she was able to turn over onto her stomach. Millie lifted Emma’s head up by the hair and brutally slammed her forehead-first into the carpeting. Emma’s eyes went a little cross-eyed as her body relaxed. The teen actress slid her forearm across the veteran fighter’s throat. Then, she pulled her back, toppling onto her side as her legs once again snaked around the hips of her prey.

Emma gagged and choked. Her face started to turn red. Then it started to turn a shade of purple. Her arms and legs flailed. She tried to grab hold of Millie’s wrist, but the hold was locked in too tightly and Emma had lost too much energy. The younger actress’s teeth gnarled as she looked down at the huffing and puffing struggling Emma. Squeezing even tighther, her forearm pressing against the throat of her opponent, Millie shouted down an order to Emma.

“GIVE UP!!!” She roared.

With tears streaming down her now violet cheeks, Emma finally had to relent. She desperately tapped on the floor and signaled out her submission.

“I give up…” Emma wheezed.

Millie released Emma Watson, and planted her foot on her hip, using it to kick the loser’s body away from her. Emma rolled on her stomach, face buried in the floor as she used her hands to hide herself. Millie walked over and planted a triumphant foot on the small of Emma’s back.

Millie had made a statement today. She was the real deal.



Offline The Syndicate

  • Senior Member
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Re: Finish Her!
« Reply #2358 on: April 07, 2023, 07:33:47 PM »
Zendaya Coleman vs Khloe Kardashian

Zendaya Coleman
5’10” 130lbs 25 y/o


Khloe Kardashian
5’10” 132lbs 37 y/o


Zendaya let out an exasperated gasp. Her body flopped to the canvas, limp and useless. Her eyes were closed and her jaw was slack. Her breath was heavy. She slowly began to raise her head. She saw ropes. Something in her mind told her to crawl to them. So, she began to crawl. She dragged her body as far as she could, slowly and painfully. Her legs weren’t cooperating like she wanted them too. They were long, flaccid weights at this point, anchors she would have to drag along with her. Still, she crawled. She crawled for what seemed to her like hours, but in reality it was a couple of seconds at best. She reached out for the rope, and right as her right hand went to grab it… she felt herself whisked backwards. Her chest scraped along the wrestling mat as her right hand stayed extended for a moment. Then, she dropped her head down onto the canvas and moaned. There was more punishment in store for her.

Khloe forcibly brought the young Hollywood star back to the center of the ring. She swayed her hips a bit over the desperate Zendaya, before turning around to face her victim’s butt. Khloe squatted down, took hold of Zendaya’s left leg, and pulled it back at the harshest angle she could possibly form. Zenday’s leg was so long that the sole of her foot practically touched the back of her head. Of course, Zendaya’s screams filled the arena. Khloe yanked so hard that Zendaya’s lower abdomen rose off of the canvas. The actress lifted her hand up, primed to finally tap out… but suddenly Khloe dropped her leg.

“Please…” groaned Zendaya. “No more, please…”

“Sorry babe,” said Khloe. “You’ve got to learn your lesson.”

Zendaya felt Khloe start to wrap her arms around her thighs. She wondered what fresh hell awaited her here. Khloe bent her elbows, completely wrapping up Zendaya’s legs as close to her crotch as possible. Then, she began to pull back. Instantly, Zendaya’s agonized cries echoed throughout the arena. Her body was viciously bent backwards as Khloe applied the counter weight of sitting on her neck. Zendaya’s body rose off of the canvas, but her chest stayed flat. Her legs split out wide. And Khloe continued to pull her backwards. Zendaya’s face contorted in pain. She burst into tears. Khloe slowly began to mount more and more pressure on the young actress’s back. Zendaya went to tap out, but before she could Khloe released her and the actress’s lower half plopped down onto the canvas.

“I’m begging you…” sobbed Zendaya. “Please, make it stop. Make it stop…”

“Not a fucking chance, loser!” responded Khloe.

Khloe stood and put her feet between Zendaya’s. Then, she crossed Zenday’s feet and pulled them between the gap between her own calves. Her feet hooked against them perfectly. Khloe dropped down to her butt and rolled over onto her back, rolling Zendaya with her. Then, the older woman snatched Zendaya’s wrists and used them to pull her taught. Khloe yanked her wrists towards her so tightly that Zendaya’s head became the fulcrum for her body. She screamed and screamed and screamed. The tears flowed. She was a blubbering mess. Khloe kept the hold on, though. Zendaya’s modest, perky cleavage barely held in place in her top.


“Who’s a little fucking loser?” mocked Khloe.

“I AM!!!! OH GOD I’M A FUCKING LOSER!!!” cried Zendaya.

“I said LITTLE fucking loser!” shouted Khloe.


“Who has the better ass?” asked Khloe.

“YOU DO!!!” shouted Zendaya.

“Who has the better legs?” asked Khloe.

“OHHHHGAWWWDDDD…. YOU!!!!” squealed Zendaya.

“Who’s the hottest, baddest bitch you know?” asked Khloe.

“KHLOE KARDASHIAN!!!” Zendaya screamed to the heavens.

“And who’s an overrated little loser WHORE?” asked Khloe.

“ZENDAYA COLEMAN!!!” replied Zendaya.

Khloe released her hold and let Zendaya flop down to the canvas again. She quickly rolled up and stuck a knee in Zendaya’s back. She brought her face off of the canvas and leaned in close.

“You fucking suck, you know that?” said Khloe. “I mean of all the disappointments, I thought you’d give me SOMETHING. But you really are fucking useless.”

She clenched Zendaya’s jaw and guided it towards the camera.

“Say it…” said Khloe.

Zendaya’s eyes were barely open. She had a glazed-over look across her face. She had been broken. Plain and simple. In reality she likely didn’t even realize where she was. But Khloe yanked her head back and dug her knee deeper into her spine.

“I’m fucking useless…” said Zendaya.

“Good girl,” replied Khloe, who let her foe’s face finally drop back down to the canvas.

Khloe stood up and planted her foot in Zendaya’s back. Then, she flexed for the cameras and the entire stadium full of people to see. She had conquered Zendaya Coleman. And frankly, it was easy.

Zendaya vs Aly Michalka

5’10” 130lbs 34-25-34 32B 25 y/o


Alyson Michalka
5’8” 121lbs 36-24-36 34C 33 y/o


The left foot of Aly Michalka swung through the air. Her heel connected with the chin of Zendaya. Zenday’s heels clacked on the tile floor as she stumbled, holding her hand against her cheek. She clenched her fists and turned back towards Michalka, but Aly was quicker on the draw. Left hook. Right hook. Zendaya stumbled back some more. Her guard dropped. Michalka threw an uppercut with her right. The brunette’s head snapped back and then her entire body collapsed to the floor. Zendaya drew heavy breaths. She looked up at her blonde foe, holding back tears as Aly reached down and took her by the hair. Yanking Zendaya up to her feet, Aly controlled her all the way to the wall. She pushed her younger opponent up against it cheek-first before taking Zendaya’s left arm and pulling it behind her back. As she forcibly moved Zendaya’s wrist up her own back, Aly rubbed the tall brunette’s face against the wall.

“One of these days maybe you’ll actually get a win,” mocked Aly.

She turned Zendaya around, whose eyes were half-open at this point. She brought her right hand back and then snapped it forward. The slap snapped Zenday’s head to the side. Aly held her stable with her left hand, then came back with the back-handed slap to snap Zenday’s face to the other side. She did it again. SLAP-SLAP. Then again. SLAP-SLAP. Then again, and again, and again.

Zendaya was primed to fold, but Aly wanted some more fun. She brought her hands around the younger actress’s throat and started to squeeze. Then, she started to lift Zendaya up. The brunette felt her back slide up the wall while her feet left the floor. She started to gag as Aly’s grip tightened around her throat. Her hands pushed at Aly’s shoulders, uselessly palming at her. After a few more seconds, Aly released her hold and Zendaya flopped to the floor.

“When that Kardashian bitch kicked your ass I thought ‘must be a bad day,’ but this is just you isn’t it?” asked Aly, who reached down and yanked Zendaya back to her feet by the hair. “You’re just a TERRIBLE fighter.”

She bent Zendaya over then fired a knee into her gut. The brunette instantly collapsed and Aly released her hair, letting Zendaya drop to her knees. As the 5’10” beauty cradled her stomach, Aly set up to finish her opponent off. She stepped over her folded body and faced Zendaya’s backside. Then, she squatted down and put pressure on the beaten woman’s neck. Using that to flatten her out, Aly then placed her heels between Zendaya’s long legs. She nestled them in snuggly before leaning forward and grabbing her opponent’s toes. She pulled Zendaya’s legs apart, then pushed her heels against the interior of Zendaya’s thighs. Forcing the gorgeous girl into a spit, Aly beamed when her opponent started to shriek in agony. Aly wasn’t done yet, though. She ran her hands down into Zendaya’s bottoms until she firmly grasped the top of her panties. Then, she yanked them upwards as sharply as she could. The fabric of the thong dug into Zendaya’s ass and womanhood. Aly brought the underwear as far up as she could, lifting it over her head even as the fabric began to tear. With one last tug, the panties conceded as the fabric split.

The blonde spun around and picked Zendaya’s head off of the floor by the hair. Her cheeks were covered in tears and a puddle of drool on the floor connected to her chin with one thick strand. Aly leaned into Zendaya’s ear.

“Had enough?” Aly asked.

“Yessss…” croaked Zendaya.

“Like I said,” Aly said as she let Zendaya’s face drop back down onto the floor. “Just a TERRIBLE fighter!”

Peyton List vs Zendaya

Peyton List
5’6” 116lbs 32C 24 y.o.


5’10” 130lbs 32B 25 y.o.


Right, left, right. Each blow hurt more than the last.

A stumbling Zendaya caught herself on the wall. Her hands pressed up against the scratchy, unforgiving wallpaper. She noticed she was no longer breathing through her nose. Instead, her jaw hung and gulped in air as much as it could. She looked back at her opponent, who had her fists clenched and in front of her face. Zendaya ran her left hand through her hair, and pushed herself off of the wall.

Jab. Zendaya ducked it. Jab. Zendaya blocked it. Jab jab. They both smashed against Zendaya’s nose as her head snapped backwards both times. Right hook. No stopping that. It snapped Zendaya’s head to the side. Left roundhouse kick. Foot to cheek. Zendaya felt her head snap the opposite direction, then felt her knees buckle. She collapsed to the floor in a heap.

Peyton List stood over her, fists still clenched, as she finished her roundhouse by spinning and re-finding her balance. Zendaya layed down on the floor, her hands pressed on it. She grabbed her jaw and moved it around a bit. Peyton gestured the taller girl back up to her feet. Zendaya took a deep breath and began to push herself back up. She stood and clenched her fists again, getting back into fighting stance. Peyton pressed forward. Jab, jab, jab. Zendaya kept her guard up and blocked it. Then, Peyton landed a kick to the tall girl’s abs. Zendaya doubled over as she backed up. Peyton rushed her. She grabbed Zendaya by the sides of the head and shot her knee up to her face.


Zendaya’s forehead took the full brunt of Peyton’s knee. She straightened up and stumbled back. She hit the wall, her hands pressed flat against it. Her entire world spun as she saw three Peytons coming her way. Zendaya tried to throw a punch at the one in the middle, but it was slow and poorly telegraphed. Peyton ducked it and came back with a left-right combo that snapped Zendaya’s head from side to side. Peyton continued her assault, whipping Zendaya’s head back and forth with her punches. Eventually Peyton stopped and Zendaya slid down the wall. Her head dropped to the side. Her eyes were closed. Peyton grabbed her opponent’s wrist and lifted it. Then she let it go. It dropped to the floor with a thud. Zendaya was out cold.

Peyton grabbed Zendaya’s jaw and moved her head side to side. Zendaya’s limp body did nothing to stop her. Peyton squeezed as she bit her lip. She took in the beautiful, snoozing face of her opponent for just a few more seconds. Then, she stoop up over her and grabbed her underneath the arms. With a great deal of effort, Peyton hoisted Zendaya up over her shoulder. She began to spank the ass of her passed out victim as she walked out of the room.

“Now we have some fun,” Peyton told her unconscious opponent.
« Last Edit: April 07, 2023, 08:17:37 PM by tapaway »


Offline The Syndicate

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Re: Finish Her!
« Reply #2359 on: April 07, 2023, 08:26:18 PM »
Daisy Ridley vs Laura Harrier

Daisy Ridley
5’7” 121lbs 30 y/o


Laura Harrier
5’9” 123lbs 32 y/o


Sometimes on a movie set tensions rise between the actors. Daisy Ridley and Laura Harrier were no exception. The two couldn’t seem to get on the same page on anything except for how much disdain they had for one another. There were comments behind one another’s back. Then there were comments between them directly. Soon enough, the two found themselves on set tangled up on the floor. Hair was pulled. Slaps flew wildly. Their legs became quickly entangled. And yet, nobody on set broke it up. The director insisted that it was good for morale. One girl would win, the other would lose, and a pecking order would be established. So, they let them fight. Back and forth they went, their athletic frames standing and falling, slapping and clawing, yelping and grunting. The fight dragged on and on with neither actress able to gain firm footing over the other for quite a while.

Both women found themselves sitting on their asses, facing each other. Their legs were all entangled and they each had both of their hands firmly entrenched in the other’s hair. Laura’s lip was split. Daisy sported a bruise on her cheek. Both women gnashed their teeth and let out angry groans as their hair was tugged. Daisy’s right foot found its way free of Laura’s legs and she pressed it into the gut of her co-star. This gave Ridley all the leverage she needed as she was able to bend Laura over. Laura’s ass lifted off of the floor and Daisy’s other leg got free. She planted her foot on the floor and was able to drag Laura toward her. Daisy then cranked Laura’s body onto her back, sliding her along the set floor, and then settled on top of her. She straddled Laura’s stomach, still keeping her hands tightly intertwined in her dark locks. Similarly, Laura kept hold of Daisy’s hair, and while she was currently pinned, she was able to bring Daisy’s head down so that the British star’s neck was painfully bent down. Their foreheads practically touched. Daisy on top, Laura on bottom, and hands latched in hair.

Laura thrusted her hips up, trying to buck Daisy off of her, but the British actress remained steady. It killed Laura to see Daisy so calm, so confident, and so seemingly in control. She tried again to buck Daisy, but she couldn’t do it. In fact, Daisy moved herself up Laura’s torso. She let her ass slam down a bit and that seemed to weaken Laura’s grasp on her hair. Daisy took notice. She lifted herself up and slammed her ass down again, this time with more speed and intent. Laura’s grip loosened some more. Daisy reached out of Laura’s hair and grabbed her wrists instead. She slowly pulled Harrier’s hands out of her hair. The two women struggled for a few moments as Daisy pushed down on Laura’s wrists. Laura tried to push forward, but then she felt her muscles give out on her. The back of her hands hit the floor. Daisy had overpowered her. Daisy brought her legs back and slid her right knee between Laura’s legs. She kept the American’s arms securely pinned down with nowhere to move. Laura’s eyes narrowed. She hated seeing Daisy on top of her. She hated having her arms pinned down by Daisy. She hated Daisy with a passion she had never felt before. And as Daisy rammed her knee between Laura’s legs, she hated her even more.

“Ooghahhh… you bitch,” Laura moaned.

Daisy felt it. As her body pressed down on Laura’s she felt the distinct sensation of Laura’s body giving up on her. Her muscles, which were so tense moments ago, now relaxed. Her eyes fluttered. Her head dropped to the side. She bit her lip as she tried to lock out the pain. So, Daisy hit her with another knee. Laura moaned once again. Daisy hit her one last time. Another long moan, this one louder and throatier. Daisy spread Laura’s arms out and then moved her own legs back on either side of the American’s torso, straddling her. She pulled Laura’s arms up as far as she could take them, really stretching her out. Her ass sat firmly on Laura’s chest.

“Are we done here?” Daisy asked.

Laura looked up at her with her doe eyes. They were filled with tears. Her lip trembled. She looked Daisy in the eye, and then shamefully looked away. Laura nodded. She was finished. And that’s all Daisy needed to know. Daisy released Laura’s wrists and stood up. The entire crew looked at her in awe. A pecking order had been formed, and Daisy was on top.

“Now… let’s get back to work,” Daisy said.

Antje Utgaard vs Alexandra Daddario

Antje Utgaard
5’10” 150lbs 36E 27 y.o.


Alexandra Daddario
5’8” 134lbs 32C 36 y.o.


The fight started at noon. The sun hung high above them, beating down on their skin. The temperature rose slightly from 97 degrees to 99 by one o’clock. The only sense of relief from the heat came in the occasional gust of wind that rode across the surface of the ocean. Their feet had left tracts in the burning sand, footprints deeply embedded only to be shuffled over. Trenches formed in the sand in all directions, most of them made by heels, but some of them were forcibly dug by elbows, chests, and even faces. After an hour of warfare, the beach was littered with strands of blonde and brunette hair. Two sets of bikinis lay shredded.

This had been the battleground of Antje Utgaard and Alexandra Daddario.

They battled through heat exhaustion and dehydration. They attacked through sunburn and sandburn. Their naked bodies were covered in claw marks, bruises, and even teeth marks. Alexandra sported a black eye. Antje’s left cheek was left bruised. The two women threw slaps, punches, pulled hair, wrestled, squeezed, bit, cursed, cried, shouted, taunted, and stretched for a full hour before finally victory was declared.

Plucked from the sand with her eyes closed and body limp, the loser’s abdomen was soon stretched as she found herself strung-up across the shoulders of her conqueror. The sun brutally shined down in her face, sizzling through her eyelids and abusing her cheeks even further. Her arms dangled, useless, as she felt the grip of a hand pressing down on her throat and left thigh. Suddenly, a burst of pain erupted through her spine as she felt her body bent backwards. She couldn’t think straight. Hell, she couldn’t think at all. All she felt was anguish. White hot anguish that overtook every aspect of her mind, every sense, every instinct. She was exhausted and couldn’t do anything about it. She was badly injured and it hurt to even try to move. There was no escape. An hour of fighting her heart out led to this: the realization that she truly was inferior.

As Alexandra Daddario both mentally and physically broke, Antje began making her way towards the water. The screams of Daddario pierced her eardrums, but it was worth it to prove to the “little” brunette that she had no right challenging her. Antje marched into the water, the proud victorious Goddess that she was, until it came up to her waist. Then, she squatted down slightly and lifted Alexandra up over her head. She tilted her hands so that the broken actress slid from her grip and into the ocean waves.

Then, Antje turned around and marched back towards the beach, leaving Alexandra to whatever fate the ocean had in store for her.

Ashley Graham vs Hayley Atwell

Ashley Graham
5’9” 200lbs 42-30-46 38D 34 y/o


Hayley Atwell
5’7” 150lbs 37-27-36 32DD 40 y/o


“My God… I didn’t think a woman like you could even crawl,” said Ashley Graham.

The 200lbs plus size model had a firm grip in the dark locks of her opponent, Hayley Atwell. Atwell’s chest swung back and forth in her black bra with every inch she crawled. Ashley slowly paced alongside her British counterpart as if she was walking a dog. The model giggled as she looked down at her exhausted foe. The actress’s mouth hung open. Her gut expanded and contracted significantly with every breath. Ashley extended her foot and placed it behind Hayley’s left wrist. Then, she swept it forward, knocking Hayley off balance as the actress face-planted into the well polished wood floor. There was a squeak of skin on the lacker that made Ashley nearly tremble with pleasure. She released Hayley’s hair and positioned herself behind her.

“You look so strong,” Ashley continued. “So poised. So elegant. Crawling with your tits practically hanging out utterly exhausted… well, let’s just say you’ve made a lot of people happy.”

Ashley cradled Hayley’s stomach and then began to straighten herself up. Hayley’s palms uselessly slid as she tried to pry herself from Ashley’s grip. The model gave her trapped victim a bit of squeeze before leaning in close to her left ear. Her teeth clamped onto the bottom of Hayley’s earlobe. She pulled her face away slowly, stretching Hayley’s flesh until she finally let go. The ear snapped right back into place, but now sported freshly imprinted bite marks.

“You just couldn’t…” Ashley whispered.

Ashley squeezed.

“UGHNNNnnnnnn,” Hayley replied.

Ashley relaxed.


Ashley squeezed again.


Ashley relaxed again.

“My power…”

Ashley squeezed and lifted Hayley clean off of the floor.


Hayley Atwell’s arms spread out wide, then she went limp in Ashley’s grip. Ashley walked around, proudly showing off her brand new trophy to the cameras placed around the room. She re-adjusted Hayley, lifting her off of the floor even more. The ragdolled British actress had no say in it. Her passed out body was simply dead weight. Hayley went for a walk-around without even knowing it.

After her parade, Ashley flipped Hayley around and slung her over her shoulder. She took a fistful of Hayley’s panties and yanked them up as hard as she could. The fabric barely stayed in tact as it clung for dear life between the ample cheeks of Hayley Atwell. Ashley smacked Hayley’s moon pale left cheek. Then she smacked the right. She alternated as she walked into the bedroom.

“Wake up, hun…” Ashley said as she kicked the door behind her. “We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

Hannah Waddingham vs Alexandra Daddario

Hannah Waddingham
5’11” 145lbs 36-25-36 32DD 47 y/o


Alexandra Daddario
5’8” 134lbs 35-27-34 32C 36 y/o


The brunette knew she made a mistake.

It wasn’t the fact that she had agreed to a fight with someone three inches taller and ten pounds heavier. No, she thought that with the right game plan she would have been able to defeat Hannah. In fact during the fight there were plenty of opportunities to turn the tide in her favor. Alex had quickness, stamina, and superior conditioning all as advantages in her corner. She knew that if she could do it all again she would keep her distance, let the big blonde wear herself out, and then go in for the kill.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to help her now. Because Alexandra Daddario had let her pride get in the way. Hannah goaded her before the fight. She dared Daddario to fight her toe-to-toe. To match her strength against her own. She dared Alex to stand in front of her and throw as much punishment as she could. And the brunette fell for it hook, line, and sinker. Alexandra soon found out that as hard as she could hit, Hannah could hit harder. That as strong as she could grapple, Hannah could overpower her. The following seven minutes resulted in an absolute thrashing as the massive blonde battered her opponent around the room. When she wanted to throw her, she threw her. When she wanted to pin her, she pinned her. When she wanted to knock her down, Daddario went down.

Alexandra stood in front of Hannah, her hands barely up. In her mind the fight had lasted hours. But it had only been a few minutes. She was already out of it. Her head pounded. Her heart thumped. Her arms and legs burned with every excess movement. She felt as if she had fifty pound dumbbells attached to her wrist. She threw a punch that Hannah dodged. She threw another one to Hannah’s ribs. The blonde stood there and let it hit her. She laughed. Laughed! Like it tickled. That pissed Alexandra off. She bit her lip and cocked her right hand. She fired it forward with as much speed as she could muster.

But Hannah’s hand caught her fist. Snatched it out of the air like she was in an action movie. Hannah squeezed Alexandra’s fist hard and began to force her elbow to bend in an unnatural position. Alexandra began to squeal, but Hannah shut her up quickly with a right-handed uppercut. The brunette dropped to a knee. She had no clue how many times she had been knocked down during this fight, but it wasn’t an insignificant amount. Alex tried to push herself up, but Hannah fired off two alternating hooks. Alexa’s head snapped side to side before dropping. Her body wobbled, barely able to keep her balance. Hannah took her opponent’s dark mane of hair and used it to lift her face up. Alex’s tears began to streak down her chin. Hannah smiled.

“There it is,” said the blonde.

She brought her knee back and slammed it against Daddario’s chin. Alexandra’s teeth chattered as her head violently snapped back. Soon her body followed as she toppled to the floor. Her body crumpled. Limbs loose and useless, Alexandra instantly lost consciousness. The beatdown finally came to an end. And Alexandra Daddario learned a valuable lesson about how much trouble pride can get one into.

Ariana Grande vs Kristen Bell

Ariana Grande
5’1” 104lbs 34-24-32 32A 28 y/o


Kristen Bell
5’1” 106lbs 34-24-34 32B 41 y/o


It was a question of endurance.

Ariana and Kristen had clawed, slapped, and rolled around the room for a while. Enough for their outfits to be tattered messes and their hair to be scattered all over the floor. Enough for their bodies and faces to sport deep red claw marks in addition to still-forming bruises. Enough for cries, curses, shrieks, groans, and moans to fill the room. And yet, they could have simply skipped all of the terrible pain and damage to their money-making faces by just doing what they should have done in the first place.

The two women were locked in a mutual scissors contest. It happened naturally between rolling around for the dominant position. Still, it felt only right that this was how their contest would be decided. Both women were staunchly proud of their legs. They were short, but thick and strong. They had won each woman their fair share of fights over the years, so to be able to prove which pair reigned supreme was something both women were fine with… as long as they won, of course. Similarly, both women sported an impressive set of abs. As their thighs each clamped around the other’s midsection, each woman knew they were in it for the long-haul. Neither lady had to keep the scissors hold on, but at this point their pride wouldn’t let either of them break it.

Kristen Bell, the blonde comedic actress, clenched her jaw and glared at Ariana. Her hands rested on top of Grande’s legs, which were quite unbreakable. She had locked her ankles behind Kristen’s back. Kristen had done the same with her ankles. The blonde had kept a steady, consistent squeeze going for a while, not wanting to lose steam. She knew she had some extra pressure she could tap into if the situation called for it, but right now the contorting face and desperate raspy squeals of Ariana Grande told her she didn’t need it. Kristen let out the occasional groan as Ariana re-tightened or re-positioned. But otherwise she continued to just glare at her opponent, as angrily stoic as possible.

Ariana Grande meanwhile looked to be visibly struggling. Her silver hair kept falling in her face, so she had to use the extra breath to blow it out of her eyes. Oh, and two absolute tree trunks were crushing her midsection. She knew Kristen had some impressive legs, but Ariana didn’t quite know how impressive until she felt them crush the side of her abdomen. Ariana did not make eye contact with Kristen. She was too busy losing control of her motor functions. Her face scrunched up, her eyes rolled around her head. Her hands too had involuntarily started to flail. She had no idea whether it was from the pain Kristen’s legs were doing to her body or if it was the amount of effort she herself was using on her own scissor hold. Ariana was pouring everything she had into it. Maximum effort. She wanted to squeeze Kristen like a tube of toothpaste, and at the start of their contest it seemed like that’s exactly what was going to happen. But Kristen was savvy. She took the initial punishment and countered with a consistent stream of squeeze. Ariana had to relax her legs every now and then before re-finding the strength and doubling her efforts. Each time she flexed her legs, she added pressure, but could only hold it for half the time.

So as the two ladies approached their contest with different strategies and different outward expressions, the question began to hang over their heads… who was going to give in first?

Ariana’s legs relaxed. She was panting now. Kristen figured she had to take this chance. She had been cautious this entire exchange, but now it was time to go for the kill. She ramped up the pressure, flexing her legs as hard as she possibly could. Ariana shrieked then began to make an unholy arrangement of gurgling noises. Ariana knew she had only one last chance. She wasn’t surviving this onslaught, so she would have to make Kristen give up first. Ariana extended her legs and let her thighs squeeze together like they had never squeezed together before. Kristen’s stoic demeanor finally faltered. She too began to shriek and let out gasping protests. Neither woman would be able to hold this for long, but each of them knew one of them was going to give up. It was only a question of who…

“I give…” gasped out a voice.

A hand began to tap on the top thigh of one of the ladies. One pair of scissors relaxed, while the other continued to its vicious assault. One body began to awkwardly bend. One set of eyes began to build up with tears. Then, one beautiful face began smeared with running mascara tracks. The hand continued to tap rapidly on the top of the winner’s legs. The tapping held until finally the gasping voice released another submission.

“I give up,” the voice pleaded. “Please… Ariana… you win…”

Kristen Bell couldn’t take it anymore. She had put her legs against the line and lost. There was no shame in it. Ariana’s thighs had tapped out plenty of women larger than either of them. But there was a sense of embarrassment that overwhelmed Kristen in that moment. The fact that she had put the best of herself against the best of Ariana and still came out the loser. She continued to plead with Ariana to release the hold, but the silver-haired singer was having nothing of it. She kept the terrible, brutal squeeze on until finally she felt Kristen’s body go completely limp. Only then did she release the hold.

Ariana withdrew her legs from around Kristen’s abdomen, then used her foot to push the passed-out woman onto her back. Ariana stood, albeit a bit wobbly, and planted her foot on Kristen’s chest. She grinded her heel into her opponent’s body as she looked down at her, wiping sweat from her brow.

“You… *gasp*... fucked with… *gasp*... the wrong bitch today,” muttered a wheezing Ariana.


Offline The Syndicate

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Re: Finish Her!
« Reply #2360 on: April 07, 2023, 08:35:37 PM »
Brenda Song vs Victoria Justice

Brenda Song
5’2” 112lbs 34-24-34 32B 34 y/o


Victoria Justice
5’5” 110lbs 34-23-32 32B 29 y/o


Hands in hair. Teeth gnashing. Faces scrunched. Chests pressed together. Legs interlocked. Rolling and rolling and rolling.

It became a question of who would break first.

Neither Brenda Song nor Victoria Justice had any significant physical advantage over their opponent. Victoria had a few inches more and Brenda had a couple of pounds of advantage, but neither one of those facts were enough to tip the scales. No, in order to win this fight it would come down to willpower. Which woman was willing to get slapped, clawed, and dragged while still not giving up? Which woman would put forth that final burst of effort that finally made the other one want to quit? Which woman would decide that she could no longer take the punishment, no longer soak up the pain any more and finally admit that she was not good enough to win… that she was inferior…. that she was the loser.

Brenda settled on top of Victoria. Her left hand pressed down on the jaw of her opponent’s gorgeous face. Her legs interlocked around Victoria’s waist, gripping her torso tightly so she wouldn’t get thrown off. Her right hand raised and then flashed down in an instant, slapping Victoria’s cheek with white hot fury. Brenda unloaded. Every ounce of anger she had built up towards this brutal battle, she unleashed onto Victoria with those slaps.

Justice knew she needed to stop the assault. She brought her hands up to Brenda’s armpits and jammed them forward. Knocking Brenda’s hands from her face, Victoria attempted to push herself up into a sitting position. Brenda’s arms wrapped around Victoria’s body. Victoria wrapped hers around Brenda’s. The two women squeezed as hard as they possibly could. Justice had fully gotten into a sitting position, but Brenda had hooked her foot underneath her shin, keeping her legs tightly around the brunette’s waist. The two women poured every last ounce of strength they had as their bodies pushed each other to their limits. But eventually, one of their limits was found.

Victoria’s arms slid down Brenda’s back and dropped to the floor. Brenda leaned forward, pinning Victoria’s shoulders to the floor with a satisfying *THUMP*. Victoria couldn’t breathe. The air was being squeezed from her body. Her back spasmed. Her eyes fluttered. Brenda shook her a little bit as she coldly looked down at her.

“Wake up,” Brenda demanded. “Open your damn eyes. I want you to look me in the eyes as I squeeze the fight out of you.”

Victoria’s eyes fluttered open. Her glazed over gaze met Brenda’s glare. Her bottom lip quivered. She let out a long, agonized groan as Brenda squeezed her tighter. Then, finally all of the fight was squeezed from Victoria Justice. She went limp and her eyes shut. Brenda let her drop to the floor, then placed her hands on Victoria’s chest to help push herself to her feet. She looked down at her opponent, blew her a kiss, and then gleefully sauntered off of the mat, leaving Victoria a broken mess.

Beyoncé vs Sarah Snook

5’7” 143lbs 34C and 40 y/o


Sarah Snook
5’6” 128lbs 34C and 34 y/o


It had been a very impressive debut for Sarah Snook. The Australian actress had never dreamed her first fight would come against a legend like Beyoncé, but in some ways that turned out to be a blessing. As much as the Queen B would make most rookies shake in their boots, Sarah had taken the opportunity to pour over the vast amount of film there was on Beyoncé’s fighting exploits. The result was a calm and cool Sarah putting up a brick wall the entire fight. She frustrated Beyoncé as she countered, blocked, or dodged pretty much every attack thrown her way. As the two circled each other, fists clenched, it was Beyoncé who looked like the rattled rookie and Sarah who looked like the stoic vet. Beyoncé’s fierceness had earned her the reputation she carried with her throughout her career, but when that fierceness was stifled, it just turned into overreaching and mistakes. Sarah knew this. She knew she had to wait for the perfect opportunity to get aggressive. Too early and Beyoncé’s power would make her pay. Too late and she’d start to recover. The timing needed to be just right.

Beyoncé’s fist flew towards Sarah, but the Australian actress calmly ducked under it. She followed with an uppercut to the singer’s jaw. Beyoncé stumbled back. Sarah went on the attack. Right hook. Left hook. Both landed, each snapping the Queen B’s head to the side. Beyoncé looked stunned. She was on her heels. Sarah knew this was it. She had to finish this fight now. The strawberry blonde rushed her opponent. Arms open, she wrapped her up and tried to tackle Beyoncé to the floor. She felt the singer on her heels, stumbling, just about to topple over. But the longer she drove Beyoncé backwards, the less confident she felt. Sarah tried to overwhelm her opponent, but Beyoncé somehow was staying on her feet. Wobbly and on her heels, but still standing. Sarah’s momentum stalled and suddenly her confidence shrank. She felt two strong arms wrap against her body, and then she felt herself thrown completely off balance. Sarah dropped onto the mat, and the body of Beyoncé landed on top of her.

Now on her back, Sarah knew she had to do something. She kept her arms wrapped around the singer’s thick frame. She pulled her in deep. Beyoncé did the same. Then, Sarah snapped her hips and rolled them over. Sarah settled on top. The two women caught in a mutual embrace. But the Australian’s position wouldn’t last long. Beyoncé planted her feet and bridged her hips up. Sarah tried to keep her balance, but soon found herself rolled over to her back. Sarah did the same, and quickly Beyoncé was under her again. The two women squeezed and rolled, switching dominant positions over and over again.

Eventually, Sarah settled on top of Beyoncé. She squeezed the singer as hard as she could. The Queen B let out a long, throaty groan. The two women’s chests were practically stuck together at this point. Sarah could feel Beyoncé’s heart beating against her own. She looked down at the grimacing face of her opponent. Beyone’s body shifted as she attempted to roll Sarah over again. But this time as Beyoncé rose, she quickly dropped back down to the floor. Sarah beamed. She had done it. She had pinned Beyoncé. She had done it legitimately too. No dirty tricks or moves. She had gone toe-to-toe, chest-to-chest, head-to-head, and woman-to-woman with Beyoncé Knowles… and she had come out on top, literally. Her chest swelled with pride. She felt an overwhelming sense of confidence grab hold of her body. Like a comforting light filling her soul. Sarah thought to herself, “I just overpowered fucking Beyoncé Knowles.”

And then… that feeling quickly abandoned her. For you see, the reason Beyoncé’s attempt to roll Sarah over failed was not because Beyoncé was beaten. Her foot simply slipped. So, as Sarah drank in the moment, Beyoncé re-found her footing and easily rolled the other woman over. With Sarah in a state of shock, Beyoncé took advantage and brought her knees along the sides of her opponent’s waist. Now straddling the pale strawberry blonde actress, Beyoncé poured every ounce of effort into squeezing the life out of Sarah Snook. Sarah let out a wail and her hands slipped down Beyoncé’s sweat-slicked back. The power of Beyoncé would not be denied. She flattened Sarah’s body against the floor and allowed gravity to assist her. She fought off every push, bridge, claw, and slap Sarah threw at her. Beyoncé would not be moved. As Sarah’s hands pressed against Beyoncé’s shoulders and biceps, the actress figured she’d have better luck moving a pick-up truck parked on her. There was no moving the Queen B. And they both knew it.

Beyoncé could have just kept Sarah in her hold until she gave out. But that would take a long time, and Beyoncé had lost the majority of the fight. She had used up a lot of energy. The smart move for Sarah would be to conserve her own energy and wait for Beyoncé to tire herself out. But Sarah was a rookie. Beyoncé was not. So, Beyoncé set a trap. She loosened her grip on the Australian. She moved her left hand up and pressed it against Sarah’s cheek, forcing the pale beauty’s head to be pushed to the side. Then, she took a handful of Sarah’s left boob and squeezed it. Her nails to dig into the poor woman’s flesh. As Sarah whined, Beyoncé lifted her hips up a bit. She needed her to take the bait…

Of course, Sarah did. Being inexperienced in the way of fighting, Sarah attempted to flip herself over onto her stomach. Little did she realize she was giving up her back. Beyoncé let the flip happen and for the first time that fight smirked. With Sarah now on her stomach, Beyoncé lifted the woman’s face up of the floor by the hair, and began to wail her with slap after slap. Sarah tried to cover up, but Beyoncé’s palm snuck through and continued to slam against her cheek. Sarah panicked. She began to push herself up, but once again… Beyoncé expected this.

The Queen B let herself slide down to her knees as Sarah straightened up. Then, she locked her hands around the actress’s waist… and she squeezed again. Sarah squealed. Her voice was so high pitched that it actually didn’t register for a moment. Her gasping indicated that all of the air had just been forced from her lungs. She tried to crawl away, but Beyoncé once again showed off her power. She tugged Sarah back into her, then lifted the strawberry blonde off of her knees and slammed her back down chest-first into the floor. Beyoncé was too damn strong for Sarah, and the actress realized it too late. She grabbed at her tormenter’s fingers, but Beyoncé gave her one last tight squeeze and Sarah’s hands involuntarily spasmed before dropping uselessly to the floor.

Now it was time for the finishing touches. Beyoncé released her reverse bearhug and replaced it with her world-famous scissors. Her thighs clamped tightly around the midsection of Sarah, whose high pitched gasping squeals continued. Then, Beyoncé simply slid her forearm across the actress’s neck before tightening that grip as well. Sarah’s face, which was so calm and collected only a few minutes ago, was now contorting in pain. Then, her jaw hung low. She tried to bring in as much air as she could, which wasn’t nearly enough. Her eyes glazed over as the look of pain was replaced with one of disappointment and desperation. She realized she had lost. That she had been thoroughly out-maneuvered and overwhelmed by the entity known as Beyoncé.

Meanwhile, the face that Beyoncé sported was not one of satisfaction. It was one of disdain. She looked down at Sarah, her jaw clenched and nostrils flaring. How dare this bitch put her through all of that pain, just to prove what she already knew… that she was better. Beyoncé kept the hold on well after Sarah’s hand tapped on her legs, signaling her surrender. No, there was no surrendering. Sarah had to learn this lesson the hard way.

“You were tough, not gonna lie,” Beyoncé said as Sarah’s body went limp and slipped into unconsciousness. “But making your debut against THE Queen B… well that was the dumbest decision of your life.”

Alison Brie vs Chloe Moretz

Alison Brie
5’3” 114lbs 35-24-36 32C 39 y/o


Chloe Moretz
5’4” 123lbs 33-25-35 32A 25 y/o


“Ughh, just… give up… ughhh…” ordered Chloe.

She had fought like hell for what seemed like hours, days even. Her lip split. Her hair a mess. Her face burning from the deep-red claw marks that ran across her cheek. Yet, it was her who was in control of the situation, not the savvy veteran Alison Brie.

The brunette was trapped. Her back spasming as the forearms of Chloe sunk deeper into her spine, crushing her joints in the process. She threw her head back and let out a few bellowing wails as her hands pressed and slipped on the slick sweat-soaked shoulders of her blonde tormentor. She had tried raining down slaps and punches, but the squeeze stayed strong. She clawed at Chloe’s back, leaving a smattering of dark red marks similar to the ones on the blonde’s face. Still, Chloe stayed strong. Which led Alison to the desperate and ineffective pushing stage of her defense. As the hug stayed on, the louder Alison groaned and the worse her decision making became. The pain was overwhelming. It impacted her perception of events. All of a sudden her body began to involuntarily twitch. Her hands flailed even though she didn’t want them to. Her voice cracked from the screams. Her eyes flooded with tears. Her legs wouldn’t respond anymore. And her lungs… they burned.

But none of that compared to the anguish Alison experienced in her back. She was being folded. Folded so badly that her hips and abdomen pressed into Chloe while her chest and shoulders began to arch backwards. Her legs did the same thing as her shoulders, making Alison’s body look similar to a crescent moon. Her hands continued to slip off of Chloe’s shoulders. As the exacerbated brunette continued to struggle, she tried to push against Chloe’s face. The blonde grit her teeth and gave no indication that she would relent. She glared at the struggling Alison, whose lips were quivering and eyebrows were sympathetically arching. Her eyes were wide, looking around as if they were begging for an outside force to save her. Meanwhile, Chloe kept staring at the brunette. Her jaw clenched. She looked as if she held no emotion except for disdain towards Alison. Chloe tried to meet her eyes, but Alison was too all over the place to lock on for more than a fraction of a moment.

Alison’s hands pushed against Chloe’s face. Then the pushing became less forceful. The fingers began to just run down her face. Their movement slowed. Their pressure all but vanished. Pretty soon Alison’s fingertips were just barely grazing the blonde’s face. Chloe tightened her hug and Alison let out one last garbled groan before…


Alison’s eyes shut. Her body went completely limp. Her mouth filled with drool, which began to pour out onto the floor. Chloe simply tossed her victim to the side. The passed out Alison dropped to the floor like a discarded piece of meat. The blonde walked over to her opponent and leaned down.

“Should have given up, you stupid bitch,” Chloe said, as she planted her foot on the passed out woman’s cheek.

First Emma Watson. Now Alison Brie. Chloe Moretz was beginning to make quite a name for herself…

Mila Kunis vs Miley Cyrus

Mila Kunis
5’4” 115lbs 32-25-32 32B 38 y/o


Miley Cyrus
5’5” 106lbs 34-24-33 34B 29 y/o


“Mmmmm…. You’re kinda sexy for an older bitch,” Miley whispered in Mila’s ear.

Her hands ran up Mila’s torso. Her tongue flicked Mila’s ear. Gripping the older woman’s chest with both of her hands. Mila let out a moan as her hands reached back for Miley’s hair. The singer was a bit too quick though as she moved her head out of the way just in time. Straightening her out, the controlling woman pulled her prey up onto her knees. Miley’s knee slid forward, pressing up against the bottom of Mila’s ass. It inched closer and closer to her pussy.

“Oahghhhhh…” Mila moaned.

“Sexy, but not quite strong enough for me, huh?” whispered Mila whose tongue moved down to Mila’s cheek. “Not catty enough. Not tough enough. Not quite… enough stamina. Too old to keep up with me. Huh?”

“FFFfuuuckkk you…” Mila whined.

“Oooh, still a lil fight in ya?” Miley mocked.

She suddenly rammed her knee against Mila’s mound. Mila went cross-eyed as she flopped back down to the floor. Miley’s knee grinded against the thin fabric of Mila’s panties. The two women had nearly stripped each other nude. Miley’s clawed up and bruised body sported a shredded crop-top which barely clung to her body (with no bra underneath of course) and a pair of daisy dukes which had managed to somehow stay on. Mila was less fortunate. Her top and bra were long gone as well as her pants, with a lace thong being the only article of clothing on her significantly scuffed up body.

Miley grabbed the actress by her hair. She rubbed her face into the floor then lifted it up. Three hard smacks followed, each one ringing Mila’s ear worse and worse. The singer let her go and Kunis’s face dropped back down to the floor. Miley reached forward with her left hand, grabbing her opponent’s left wrist and moving it above her head. Then Miley did the same with Mila’s right wrist. She grabbed both wrists, pinning them to the floor. Then, with her free hand she took hold of Mila’s underwear. Yanking it, the fabric dug deep between the raven haired beauty’s cheeks. Miley continued to pull as the fabric began to give way. Mila, two years away from 40, was on the receiving end of the most humiliating wedgie she’d ever experienced.

Face down, ass up, Mila groaned in agony. Then came the spankings. Miley’s hand sped forward, slapping the right ass cheek of Mila Kunis. The actress wailed. So Miley did it again, only with the left ass cheek. She alternated left to right as Mila just took it. She soaked in the punishment, too worn down to stop it. After leaving her victim’s ass looking as red as a Rothko painting, Miley flipped her onto her back. She ran her right hand up Mila’s body once again. The beaten woman trembled at her touch. Miley flattened her body out across hers, rubbing it up and down, slowly and deliberately.

Mila bit her lip. As much as she hated to admit it, she could feel herself getting turned on. Her nipples stiffened. Her pussy started to wet. This beautiful, fit younger woman had thoroughly defeated her. And she did it without a shred of class. The loss to Margot Robbie was one thing. Sure, they got downright nasty, but Margot at least brought some dignity to the fight. Likewise, after beating Emma Watson, Mila noted how respectful the British actress had been all things considered. But Miley? Well, Miley clearly approached her fights with a different edge. She wasn’t a woman so much as she was a beast fueled by animalistic nature. The trash talk. The low blows. The licking. The biting. Mila felt that she had entered into a fight with a goddamn demon, not a woman. And yet… she couldn’t help but notice just how sexy Miley was. The way she moved, every single motion, exuded aggressive sensual energy. Every face she made looked like she was enjoying it far more than any woman she had ever fought. And Mila couldn’t control her body’s reaction.

Miley took Mila by the jaw, clenching it tightly. She stuck her tongue out and slowly dragged it from Kunis’s chin all the way up her right cheek to her temple.

“You taste fuckin’ good…” Miley said.

She ran her hand back down Mila’s body. Her fingers found Mila’s pantyline. Slipping them underneath the fabric, she felt the smooth and lubricated flesh of her opponent. The fingers slipped inside of Mila, who gasped. There was no slow playing it for Miley. Two fingers in, her index and middle finger, then she slowly started to withdraw them. Then back inside. Then withdraw. Then inside again. Back and forth she worked her fingers. Mila continued to moan out in ecstasy, her voice cracking as Miley started to pay more attention to her clit. Miley leaned in, slipping her tongue down into Mila’s mouth. Their lips interlocked. Mila kissed her back. Even Miley’s tongue was aggressive. She worked it against Mila’s, wrapping it up and pushing it down as if she was pinning that too.

It drove Mila Kunis absolutely wild.

She could feel her ecstasy building. She began to feel light-headed. Her panties were absolutely soaked, nearly dripping from anticipation. She could hold back no longer. Mila began to squeal, but Miley’s tongue continued to cram down her throat. The muffled pleasured screams of Mila Kunis signified that Miley had accomplished what she wanted. Kunis spasmed for a while as her orgasm took hold. That’s when Cyrus withdrew her fingers. She brought her right knee back and then… SLAM. SLAM. SLAM.

Mila couldn’t take the sudden shock of pain. Her eyes crossed again and her body fully relaxed. She closed her eyes as she slipped into unconsciousness.

Miley lifted her face off of Mila’s, a string of saliva dangled down from the tip of her tongue into the agape maw of her now snoozing opponent. She brought her fingers up to her own mouth, sucking the juices from her fingers.

“Oh yeah,” Miley said. “You taste real fuckin’ good…”


Offline The Syndicate

  • Senior Member
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Re: Finish Her!
« Reply #2361 on: April 07, 2023, 08:41:49 PM »
Jessica Biel vs Brie Larson

Jessica Biel
5’7” 121lbs 36C 40 y.o.


Brie Larson
5’7” 128lbs 32B 32 y.o.


Instinct took over as Jessica Biel felt her body fold in half. She sat up for a split second, but then her body fell back down to the floor. An empty throaty gasp left her mouth which was curtailed by an almost inaudible high-pitched squeak that barely lasted any time at all. She saw stars. Her hands uselessly palmed at the thighs and calves of Brie Larson, who had just interlocked her ankles. The younger blonde actress gritted her teeth and shifted her hips off the floor, turning her body slightly to get even more leverage. Her legs brutally squeezed Jessica’s abs and the older actress’s face contorted. Each passing moment was torture. Brutal, unwavering torture. As stars continued to fill her vision, Jessica found that tears too had started to flood her eyesight.

She pushed and pushed, but Brie’s legs might as well have been glued to her. The muscles she pushed against felt hard like stone in her grip. There was no moving them. Her body was exhausted, badly beaten and bruised from the last twenty minutes of fighting. Jessica’s dress had been yanked down, her bare breasts littered with claw marks and bruises. Brie meanwhile remained fully clothed with minimal markings on her person. Jessica had a reputation of being an athletic, badass bitch among the Hollywood elite. But she found herself ill-equipped to handle Brie’s own athletic prowess. Larson wore her older opponent down until she was sucking air. Then, she tossed her around the room like a ragdoll. It had been a while since Jessica had felt so utterly powerless against an opponent, but Brie had done it. She had sucked all of the fight out of her and then ground her down even more. The body scissors were just the final nail in the coffin.

Larson had transitioned into this hold from a standing bearhug. She crushed the spine of Jessica Biel and apparently squeezed all of her vocal abilities from her as well. Because after minutes of screaming, Jessica could no longer make any significant sounds. She wheezed and whimpered as Brie’s legs clamped down tighter. But she couldn’t squeeze. There was no true vocalization emanating from Biel’s mouth. Brie Larson had truly taken her breath away. She wasn’t planning to stop either. Not until Biel either gave up or passed out.

As her mind continued to lack oxygen, Jessica couldn’t make out any sort of signal for her surrender. She wanted to, but she just couldn’t think straight. All that flooded her mind was the sensation of pure, unadulterated agony. Her stomach continued to be crushed between Brie’s legs. Her spine felt as if it could crack at any moment. She tried to mouth the words, “I submit” but with no voice to go along with it Larson didn’t seem to notice. Instead, Brie Larson continued to squeeze the body of Jessica Biel. She squeezed and squeezed and squeezed. Her hands, which were free, lunged forward to grab Biel’s bare nipples. She tugged on them, stretching them toward her as Jessica’s eyes rolled in the back of her head. Her hands flailed as Brie twisted her nipples between her fingers. She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t even control her body anymore. It spasmed and flailed around uselessly, hitting nothing but air.

Finally, the mixture of pain and lack of oxygen became too much for Jessica Biel to endure. Her body shut down. She went limp as her eyes shut. One last final puff out from her lungs, and Jessica Biel was knocked out. Brie released her scissors and her grip on Jessica’s nipples. She positioned herself so that she sat on her foe, straddling her hips. She grabbed Jessica’s jaw with her right hand, turned her head from side to side. Then, she smirked. She took in the features of her defeated opponent. Her muscles. Her wounds. Her beautiful face. Brie Larson’s chest swelled with pride as she looked down at what she had accomplished. A, a dominating win at that, against catfight royalty. Brie Larson had made a statement that day. She let everyone know just how titanic of a threat she was.

Daisy Ridley vs Brie Larson

Daisy Ridley
5’7” 121lbs 32A 30 y/o


Brie Larson
5’7” 128lbs 32B 32 y.o.


Daisy Ridley and Brie Larson were face-to-face. Their noses touched as their teeth gnarled. Their hands gripped what was left of one another’s collar. Daisy’s shoulders slammed against the wall of the secluded forest cabin the two actresses had rented. Each of them were riding high off of significant catfighting wins. Daisy had thrown her weight around a movie set, toppling Laura Harrier to set a clear pecking order. Brie on the other hand had just gone toe-to-toe with Jessica Biel, a catfighting legend, and came out on top. Both of their confidences soared to all-time highs. They each knew whoever their next opponent was would have to be a big name and a physical threat. Their names were floated out there and both women saw the other one as a natural fit. So, their agents booked the time while Daisy and Brie did the press. A nice secluded cabin where their fight would be livestreamed for the world to see. The two women would enter the cabin and wouldn’t leave until a winner had been established.

As Daisy’s shoulders hit the wall she let out a groan. Brie Larson had been everything she expected and more. Trim and athletic, Daisy had been confident in her ability to wear out nearly any opponent. But when she saw Brie’s physique, she knew right away this isn’t simply a girl you wear down. She’d have to beat her. Knock her, squeeze her, and stretch her senseless in order to win. That had been easier said than done. Brie had won the fight up to this point, though only slightly. She controlled the action for the most part and hadn’t allowed Daisy to knock her down. Daisy meanwhile had to scramble to her feet three times. She did well not to allow Larson to finish her, but the blonde was pressing and Daisy could feel the burning in her muscles. Her arms were heavier. Her legs were sluggish. Lactic acid had begun to build up. Her breathing was heavier. Sweat completely soaked what remained of her clothes. Daisy’s body slid across the wall of the cabin, knocking down the few pictures left, and found herself slammed shoulder-first into the wall.

Brie had to admit to herself that Daisy had impressed her. Sure, she had built a fairly impressive lead over the last half hour, but Brie had to admit… Daisy was built differently. She gave the sort of effort she had expected out of her previous opponent. Her strikes were fast and she knew how to get to her feet. There was very little wasted movement in Daisy’s fighting technique. When she hit Brie, she hit her hard and fast. Efficiency, Brie had to admire it. That of course didn’t stop her from beating the crap out of her when she was given an opening. Three separate times she was able to land a clean punch that knocked Daisy down. Daisy had had no such luck against the blonde. As she brought Daisy to the corner of the cabin living room, Brie nailed her opponent with a knee to the gut. When Ridley didn’t quite double over, Brie hit her with it two more times. That did the trick.

Daisy’s abdomen felt like it had exploded. She felt nauseous and had to release Brie’s collar. She clutched her stomach tightly, trying to grip the pain away. Brie Larson grabbed Daisy by the tattered remains of her pantsuit and guided her towards the dining room table. Daisy hit it hard, sliding across the top of it and eventually off of it. The tabel toppled over too, landing on its side next to the British actress. Daisy’s hand clutched the high point of the table as she started to bring herself to her feet, but Brie was on her. She nailed her with an alternating right-left combo to the chin. Then, Brie grabbed Daisy by the front of her hair, brought her back towards her, and sunk her fist into her stomach. Daisy Ridley dropped to the floor, once more grabbing her stomach. First she dropped to her knees. Then she sunk onto her shoulder, continuing to cradle the wounded spot.

“You are incredible,” said Brie. “Truly, I didn’t think you’d last this long. But wow, you are one badass bitch, I have to give you that.”

Brie leaned down and grabbed Daisy by the shoulders. She stared into her face and saw what she wanted to see. Averted gaze. Trembling lips. Eyebrows on an axis. Daisy didn’t want to do this anymore. She was on the brink of fully giving up. Brie just had to give her some extra motivation. She hoisted Daisy back onto her feet and got back into her fight stance. Daisy raised her hands, but Brie snuck a couple of jabs past Daisy’s guard. Ridley backed up and shook her head. Then she swung an off-balance hook that Brie easily dodged. As Daisy’s momentum carried her forward, Brie slammed another brutal knee to her gut that bent the brunette over it. Daisy began to fall, but the blonde caught her by the back of the hair and flung her to the wall. Daisy’s hands were flat against it. Her chest rapidly rose and sank as she tried to catch her breath.

It was open season.


Two more alternating hooks from Brie and Daisy began to slump down the wall. The blonde clutched her foe’s pantsuit by the collar and brought her back up to her feet. Two rights to the gut followed by a back-hand to the cheek. Daisy Ridley was all out of sorts. She dropped once again, just barely catching herself. Brie dropped her knee down into Daisy’s back and grabbed her by the back of the hair.

“You fought so well,” Brie Larson said, pointing to one of the hidden cameras. “But tell everyone that you’re beaten and I won’t have to hurt you anymore.”

Daisy looked up into the camera. She clenched her jaw as tears began to form in her eyes.

“I’m beaten…” Daisy said through her teeth.

“Sorry Daisy,” Brie said. “I don’t think they quite heard that. Tell them again, and this time tell them who beat you.”

“I’ve been beaten,” Daisy said. “By Brie Larson.”

“Good girl,” Brie said as she released Daisy’s hair. “You really did impress me, you know. But I’m clearly just on another level.”

Ana de Armas vs Brie Larson

Ana de Armas
5’6” 121lbs 32C 34 y.o.


Brie Larson
5’7” 128lbs 32B 32 y.o.


Brie Larson was hurt. On her knees, she felt the foot of Ana de Armas dig into her back while the brunette took hold of her wrists and pulled her arms backward. Brie looked up to the sky and screamed. Her body curved, pushing her chest up in the air while her abdomen stretched out at a brutally sharp angle. She tried to pull her hands forward, but Ana’s grip was too tight. She pulled Brie back even sharper, sticking her leg out even more. The streaking hot blonde wailed. She hadn’t lost a fight in well over two years, but clearly Ana planned to end that.

“What happened to the ‘unbeatable Brie Larson,’ huh?” de Armas mocked.

She released Brie’s arms and gave Larson a nice shove with her foot. The blonde fell forward, unable to catch herself in time. Her cheek pressed against the grass, arms flat and spread out at her side. She began to move, but Ana grabbed a handful of hair and straightened Brie out. Then, Ana’s right hand smacked Brie’s face back and forth, snapping her head from side to side. It wasn’t enough just to beat Brie, she had to send a message. She needed Brie Larson to fear her. Because if Brie was intimidated, almost every other celebrity fighter would be too. So, she gleefully knocked Brie’s head from side to side between her front and back of her right hand.

Ana yanked Brie’s head back so that she could look into her eyes. Peering down at her opponent gave Ana such an overwhelming sense of pride. She had been a conqueress. She took it to the indomitable Brie Larson and shut her down from start to finish. The blonde’s eyes glazed over. Her jaw hung slack. She heavily panted, desperate to catch her breath. Ana leaned in, letting her cleavage hang low in Brie’s face.

“Aww poor Brie, having a hard time breathing?” Ana wickedly asked.

She forced Brie’s head to nod up and down. Then she squatted just a bit and leaned forward, allowing her breasts to engulf Brie Larson’s face.

“Well it’s not going to get any easier!” Ana said as she shimmied her boobs in the face of her victim.

Brie’s arms flailed wildly and Ana simply laughed. She began to push herself forward, bending Brie’s body back ever so slightly. The blonde’s cries were muffled under the chest of her superior opponent. Ana knew it was only a matter of time before Brie went limp… or at least she thought she knew.

Because what Ana de Armas was about to realize was that when you have a girl like Brie Larson beaten, you better damn well finish her off. Brie felt her oxygen levels rapidly declining. She had to come up with something. Anything. She was Brie fucking Larson, after all. And no way was she going to have her winning streak broken like this. She shot her arms forward, wrapping them around the legs of Ana de Armas. She squeezed tightly, getting as firm a grip as she could. She didn’t want Ana to slip out. If she got free, the brunette would simply pick her apart. No, she had to do something drastic to get out of this.

So, Brie’s with Brie’s arms tightly wrapped around the legs of her opponent, she quickly brought herself up to her right foot. She planted it and used that to gain the momentum to lift herself up onto both feet. Her face still smothered by the cleavage of Ana de Armas, Brie Larson let out a muffled roar and stood up, lifting her opponent clean off of the ground. Ana’s eyes went wide as she felt the sudden display of power force her to leave the ground. She tried to push herself forward, hoping to topple the blonde onto her back, but Brie was too firm-footed for that. Brie Larson instead let her bodyweight carry her forward as she slammed Ana de Armas onto the ground.

Instantly, Ana’s grasp on Brie’s hair released. Brie brought her face out of Ana’s chest and without wasting any time, slid herself up the fallen girl’s body. She cocked her right fist back, punched Ana clean in the face twice, and felt the body under her go slack. Ana’s head fell to the side. Her eyes closed. She was knocked out.

Brie, breathing heavily, tried to push herself up but stumbled and fell to her ass. As she sat next to the limp body of Ana de Armas, she played the fight through her head over and over again. Ana had outfought her, plain and simple. She had exposed several flaws in Brie’s technique that now everyone would soon know about. But she didn’t win. And Brie would take that trade any day.

Emily VanCamp vs Brie Larson

Emily VanCamp
5’8” 125lbs 34C 35 y.o.


Brie Larson
5’7” 128lbs 32B 32 y.o.


“Not gonna lie,” Emily said. “You scared me for a second.”

Brie Larson was all out of sorts. She was littered with scrapes and bruises, her top had been shredded and her pants removed entirely. Scraggly blonde hair hung in her face. She could barely breathe. She could barely move. She could barely comprehend where she was.

Emily VanCamp wasn’t in much better shape either.

Both women had thoroughly destroyed each other for forty minutes. Control was seeded back and forth between them. As soon as it seemed like one of them was on the verge of finishing her opponent off, she would find herself quickly losing momentum until she was on the verge of passing out or quitting. A fight like this came along once every ten or so years. It was a bloodbath. A mutual bloodbath. And neither woman had given up yet.

However, Emily recently had retaken control for what seemed like the hundredth time. Miraculously, both women were on their feet. Emily’s arms had ensnared Brie, squeezing her tightly from behind. Brie’s arms were trapped by her sides. Emily put the pressure on, bending the struggling Larson forward.

“You think this is over?” grunted Brie.

Emily paused for a moment before she answered.

“No,” she said. “I know it’s not over… yet. But you beating me isn’t what scared me. What scared me is when that delightful Ana de Armas had you in that delicious breast smother. All of a sudden I thought, ‘oh no, I guess she really isn’t that special afterall.’ And then… you escaped! That’s when I knew, Brie. I knew you’d be worth all of the trouble. Because taking a beating from you is worth it when I’m finally the one to finish you off.”

Emily took a deep breath and hoisted Brie off of the floor. Brie’s legs kicked wildly. Emily twisted her hips and tried to slam Brie to the floor, but Brie’s legs caught herself before Emily could complete the move.

“You know, Ana seems like a tough fighter and all,” said Emily. “But she doesn’t know what it takes to be a killer, does she? She doesn’t have that cut-throat instinct. She doesn’t know what it’s like to finish off girls like us, does she? But you do… And that’s why this is going to be the best five minutes of my life.”

Emily loosened her hug on Brie and slid her hands up the blonde’s back. She shoved her forward. Brie expected something to hit her from behind, but nothing did. When she turned around she saw Emily standing there, fists up, knees bent, gesturing Brie towards her. Larson stumbled forward. Emily stood her ground. Brie swung and missed wildly with a right hook that Emily ducked. Emily sent a quick chop to Brie’s back as they passed by each other. Brie turned around and snapped a kick that hit Emily in the gut. Brie moved forward, wrapping Emily’s neck with her arms as she bent her. With the headlock secure, Brie squeezed tightly. Emily rose to her toes as her eyes bulged. Brie kept the pressure on. Emily’s right reached up and her nails dug into Brie’s face. She pulled them down, peeling off skin. The distraction was just barely enough for the headlock to loosen. Emily popped her head out and sent a left cross that spun Brie around.

Emily got on her opponent quickly, a handful of hair as she guided Brie towards the wall. She rammed the tall blonde into it. She quickly reached for Brie’s hands trying to pin them to the wall. But, before she could secure them Brie snapped her head backwards and nailed Emily right in the nose. As VanCamp stumbled backwards, Brie twisted around and nailed another kick that caused Emily to double over.

On her heels, Emily backed off, clutching her stomach. Brie stomped her way forward, her hand grabbing Emily by the hair. She raised her knee up, slamming it into her opponent’s face. That straightened Emily up really quick. VanCamp’s hand shot to her face as she found herself continuing to retreat. Brie landed alternating left-right hooks to Emily’s cheek, which carried the slightly taller blonde all the way to the wall. Emily began to slide down it, but Brie took hold of her collar and hoisted her back up with her left hand. Brie Larson cocked back her right fist, ready to finish this war once and for all.

But suddenly Emily shot her two hands forward and clamped down on Brie’s scalp. She used her foot to propel her forward and slam her body into Larson’s. Brie’s punch hit nothing but air as she all of a sudden found herself being forced backwards.

“Fucking... Kill you… bitch…” grunted Brie.

Brie wrapped her arms around Emily and then swiftly twisted her hips. The two women crashed down to the floor, but Brie landed on top with a satisfying *thud*. Emily however had hold of Brie’s hair, and used it to guide the girl on top to switch positions with her. Not to be out-done, Brie similarly took hold of Emily’s locks and soon pushed herself back on top. The two women rolled around on the floor, neither one of them able to gain any mounted position for a while. Emily knew that might not come, so when she found herself on top, she picked Brie’s head off of the floor and bounced it. Brie’s arms loosened and Emily began to push herself into a mount position. However, Brie found the strength to bring her knees between herself and Emily and forcibly kicked Emily backwards. Emily stumbled, her back hitting a table, which she then used to catch her balance.

Brie began to slowly pick herself up. The two women locked eyes, their jaws clenched as they sucked down as much air as they could. Both of their eyes burned with vitriol and fury. They began to make their way towards each other once again. Brie threw a left-hook that Emily dodged. Emily sent her knee up into Brie’s gut, which doubled her over. Then, Emily grabbed the back of Brie’s thrashed shirt and used it to toss her against the wall. Brie hit it hard, but was able to turn around. Emily was on her quick though. Brie threw a desperation right hand that Emily dodged. Then, VanCamp unloaded a left-right combo to Brie’s chin. Larson’s knees buckled and as she began to slide down the wall, Emily grabbed her by the front of the hair and sent a knee into her gut once more. Brie dropped to her ass.

Out of breath and thoroughly battered, Brie Larson looked up at an equally brutalized Emily VanCamp.

“You are absolutely incredible,” said Emily.

She took hold of Brie’s collar with both hands, hoisting her up to her feet. Brie tried to head-butt her, but Emily saw it coming. She moved her head back and used Brie’s momentum to help spin her around. Then, she brought her right arm over Brie’s throat. Emily moved Brie’s wrist over her own shoulder so that it slung across the taller actress’s neck. Emily took a deep breath before finally snapping Brie’s body down towards the floor. Before Brie hit the floor though, Emily planted her foot so that her own leg sat at a 90 degree ankle. The back of Brie Larson violently bent across Emily’s thigh. Brie screeched in agony as she felt her spine curve in an unnatural way. Emily moved her hand to Brie’s chin, which she used to sharpen the angle. Brie’s screams were piercing and devastating. But they sounded like sweet music to Emily VanCamp.

Emily rolled Brie off of her thigh, letting her foe drop to her stomach. Emily took a handful of Brie’s hair as she dug her knee into the tortured spine of her opponent.

“Remember what you made Daisy Ridley do?” asked Emily, pointing to a camera. “Do it for me.”

“FUCK… YOU,” Brie groaned through her teeth.

“Fine,” Emily said. “The hard way, then.”

Emily brought Brie to her feet and once more brought her down across her knee. When Brie still refused, Emily did it again. And again. And again.

“No more…” Brie finally begged. “I… I can’t…”

“Then say it,” Emily demanded, yanking on her hair.

Brie Larson, lips trembling, eyes welling with tears, looked into the camera. She looked at it dead center. Her eyes unmoving from it the entire time. She took a long, hard swallow before opening her mouth.

“I’m beaten…” Brie said.

“No,” Emily cut her off. “You’re not beaten, are you? You’re something else… You know it too. Say it.”

“I… I…” Brie stuttered.

“Say. It.”

“I’m broken…” Brie admitted as she burst into tears, hanging her head low. “I’ve been broken by Emily VanCamp.”

“Good girl,” said Emily VanCamp, who rose to her feet.

She stood over the demoralized Brie Larson. She didn’t plant her foot. She didn’t flex. She didn’t taunt. She didn’t trash talk. She simply looked down at her. Emily knew very well that the positions could have been flipped. That it could have been Brie Larson who conquered herself on that day. Brie had her respect going into the fight. Now, Brie had her admiration.

But at the end of the day, only one winner can stand. Emily knew on this day it was her turn to stand. She intended to keep it that way.

Kaley Cuoco vs Brie Larson

Kaley Cuoco
5’6” 126lbs 35-24-36 32C 36 y/o


Brie Larson
5’7” 128lbs 34-24-35 32B 32 y/o


Brie wasn’t used to a fight like this. Usually her fights included some precise striking, some decent grappling, and an overall level of respectfulness between opponents. But Kaley Cuoco had gotten dirty. She had low-blowed, bit, clawed, and cheap-shotted the entire fight until finally Brie Larson snapped and got down to her level… literally.

The two women were a messy ball of arms, legs, and hair rolling around on the floor. Kaley’s dirty tactics had made her the dominant fighter for most of the contest. In fact, she had kicked Brie’s ass so thoroughly that Kaley began to wonder if it was even the same girl who had beaten Jessica Biel, Daisy Ridley, and Ana de Armas. She knew that Brie was coming off of an emotional loss to Emily Vancamp, but she expected a little more fire from someone with Brie’s reputation. Instead, Larson had come out and laid an egg early. She got out-struck so poorly that Kaley almost knocked her out five minutes into the fight. That’s when Kaley decided to get nasty.

You see, it wasn’t about wins and losses to Kaley. It was about an experience. She knew she had Brie beaten. She had easily outclassed her fellow blonde actress that if she had kept that gameplan the fight would have been over in seven minutes. But where was the fun in that? So instead Kaley decided to utterly torture Brie. The dirty tactics left Larson stripped, clawed up and down, and with a persistently throbbing mound. Kaley pushed her further. Her hair was torn to shreds. Her nipples were covered with scratch marks. And all four of her cheeks were a dark red, compliments of Kaley’s right hand. Brie couldn’t believe how strong and fast Kaley was. She was a blur and when she hit… she hit like a mack truck. Brie lost track how many times she had been knocked down. At a certain point it didn’t matter. Yet, Kaley refused to finish her off. She just kept pushing Brie a little more with each humiliation. A slap. A cxnt punt. A titty twister. She dumped more and more humiliation until finally Brie snapped. Her calm, collected demeanor shattered. Her eyes went wide and she let out a terrible scream. She tackled Kaley to the floor, leading to their current positioning.

The two hellcats tore into each other. Kaley lost her top as well and her shorts barrely hung on for dear life. Her body was catching up with Brie when it came to the claw marks, and her hair was as equally thin and messy as well. The only difference was Kaley was loving it. Every time Brie screamed in her face or cursed her out gave Cuoco a little boost. Every slap. Every nail digging into her flesh. Every knee slammed into her snatch… it delighted her.

The two blondes rolled around the floor, each wrestling for position. The harder Brie fought, the harder Kaley fought back. Eventually, Kaley took hold of Brie’s wrists and pinned her to the floor. She let her impressive chest drop directly on Brie’s. She grinded her chest down a little, smirking as she saw just how much Brie hated it. She had wound Brie up nice and tight… and now it was time to release her. Kaley now aimed to take the fight out of Larson the best way she knew how…

She placed her knee between Brie's legs and began to thrust it forward violently. Brie screamed. Each time her knee connected, she felt a little bit of strength trickle out of Brie’s arms. Then, Kaley leaned forward and gave a long, slow lick from the base of Brie’s chin all the way up to her nose. She then clamped her teeth on Brie’s nose, not hard enough to break the skin, but more like a warning to tell her that she could if she wanted to. All the while, Kaley’s knee continued to destroy Brie’s womanhood. Just a few weeks ago many thought Brie had established herself as the best celebrity fighter in the world. Kaley was thrilled to remind everyone that she still existed. And to break Larson in such humiliation fashion, to force Brie to play her game and still come out on top… Well, Kaley knew there wouldn't be any more talk about the dominant Brie Larson. As she watched the fight fade from Brie’s face, Kaley gave her a wicked smirk and leaned herself forward.

Her ample chest easily covered Brie’s nose and mouth. Muffled cries escaped under Kaley’s bosom, but she paid no attention to the begging of Brie Larson. Kaley spread Brie’s arms out wider.  When they went limp she let them go and started to play with her opponent’s blonde locks, all the while keeping her chest on her face.

“Hmmm, okay,” Kaley said to the passed out Brie. “You’ve had enough.”

She picked her chest up and gave Brie a few light taps on her cheek. Then she stood over her and admired her handiwork.

“I still can’t believe you beat Jessica,” Kaley mocked her knocked out opponent. “Old girl must be slipping.”


Offline Jackflash Jump

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Re: Finish Her!
« Reply #2362 on: April 07, 2023, 11:30:45 PM »

This is a bit of a follow up to a post I did back in December, although this time, instead of being set in a pro ring, the fighting style du jour is the womanly art of catfighting.

Oh, and as before, the bad girl always wins.   8)

Each of these are the final moments of a match, when one beauty is undeniably triumphant over her adversary, and basking in the glow of victory...

Kaley Cuoco vs Esther Baxter


The blonde let out a heavy grunt as she was slammed chest-first into the penthouse wall.  Dazed from the impact, Kaley staggered backward, leaving two near-perfect circular indentations in the drywall, the result of her 34c's forceful collision with the wall (the owner would afterward hang an empty gilded frame around the dents, proclaiming them works of art!).

The woman who delivered her into that wall, Esther, let a cruel smile come across her lips, as she realized that after their long and grueling contest, she was on the verge of conquering the blonde at last.

As the stunned Cuoco stood on unsteady legs, Baxter kicked behind each of her knees, dropping the blonde onto her knees.  A yank of tangled golden mane put Kaley on her back, with her legs still bent at the knees under her.  The bronzed beauty then began to savagely stomp at her opponent's belly, breasts and head, quickly rendering Cuoco senseless and hapless as Baxter finishes her off. 

With her foot then planted between Kaley's bare and battered breasts, Esther raises her arms and claims her victory.

Kate Upton vs Megan Thee Stallion


The two curvaceous beauties hammered away at one another with chest chops, each blow sending their bare bosoms bouncing wildly as they yelped and moaned in pain.

Suddenly, Kate shifted tactics and raked her nails across the shrieking Megan's eyes, momentarily blinding her.  That gave the blonde the precious seconds she needed to grab her opponent and, as Upton dipped her knees, pulling the startled battler across the blonde's shoulder.  Before Megan knew what was happening, she was snared in an over-the-shoulder backbreaker!

Her cries of torment filling the penthouse as her lush body was agonizingly bent across the shoulders of her rival, it wasn't long before Megan was shrieking her submission.  Viciously, Upton then slammed her beaten foe to the carpeted floor, then placed a foot upon the body of the stunned brunette and struck her victory pose.

Flashback 1979: Linda Blair vs Charlene Tilton


The spectators had been awe-stuck by the savage brutality displayed by the two young blondes, their hatred for one another fueling their fury.  Stripped down to their bikini briefs, their buxom bodies sheathed in sweat as they each panted for breath, struggling against exhaustion, they had been battling to a near stalemate.  Now however, the tide was about to turn.

Linda managed to land a slap to Charlene's face, her palm cracking across her rival's cheek as Tilton's head snapped sharply to the side, emitting a spray of perspiration beads.  Stunned, Charlene staggered several steps, instinctively turning her back to her foe so as to better shield herself from further attack.  However, that was just what Blair wanted, as she leapt up on her adversary's back, wrapping her legs around Charlene's waist while she snaked her arms around her rival's throat with a chokehold!

Charlene stumbled around, her trembling legs straining to carry the weight of her oppressor.  Her eyes were wide with panic and her face turned a deep red as she struggled for breath.  Linda, sending that at long last victory was within her grasp, smirked and gave a sinister chuckle.

Soon enough, Tilton collapsed to the floor, helplessly captured within the limbs of her nemesis.  Finally her eyes fluttered shut and she was driven unconscious.  Linda released her...but she wasn't finished with her yet.

First, she stripped the beaten girl on her panties; she then used Charlene's own bikini top to hog tie her wrists and ankles behind her, leaving Tilton humiliatingly helpless in the center of the room.

Emma Stone vs Anna Kendrick


Emma squirmed on her belly, but the weight of her opponent pressing her body down upon the redhead kept her trapped.  But Stone's biggest worry at the moment was the fact that she couldn't breath, thanks to Anna using her hands to cover Stone's mouth and pinch off her nose.
As her victim's movements grew sluggish and her moans weaker, Kendrick was certain that her triumph was inevitable now.  Tauntingly, she began to sing a lullaby to her opponent...

"Hush little baby, don't you weep
Anna's gonna send your ass to sleep
If you step up on me once more
I'll break your neck, you stupid whore"

And with that, Emma's tear-filled eyes closed and she passed out.  Gleefully, Anna stood up and let out a smug laugh as she gave Stone's unmoving rear end one final kick with her foot.

Flashback 1975:  Jenny Agutter vs Jane Seymour


Jane let out an agonized howl as her back was bent across her adversary's knee...but her anguish was only just beginning.

Not content to merely torture her rival's spine, Jenny magnified the torment by first, clasping her left hand across Seymour's windpipe, choking her; with her right hand, she viciously fashioned her fingers into a clawhold and clamped it down upon Jane's womanhood, which had scant protection beyond the thin fabric of her panties.

Both hands tightening as she continued to press down on either end of her victim, Agutter's beautiful face was a mask of cruel determination.  Jane's maliciously abused body trembled from the pain that wracked it.  Quickly enough, she managed to draw enough breath to croak out, "No...more..."

Disdainfully, Jenny released her holds and roughly shoved her conquered adversary from her knee, letting Seymour fall to the floor.  Rising up, hands on her hips, Agutter imperiously intoned, "Your Queen commands you to depart, peasant!"  Sobbing, Jane slowly and with great discomfort crawled across the floor and out of the room on her hands and knees.
« Last Edit: April 07, 2023, 11:33:08 PM by Jackflash Jump »


Offline Golden Goddess

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Re: Finish Her!
« Reply #2363 on: April 08, 2023, 02:38:52 AM »
Esther Baxter used to be way more popular around here. Fun seeing her back again.


Offline User1

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Re: Finish Her!
« Reply #2364 on: April 08, 2023, 01:30:03 PM »
Alice and Eve demolished ScarJos tits badly, they really should now test each other out, I know they need to know who of them is better!


Offline HumanPerson

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Re: Finish Her!
« Reply #2365 on: April 08, 2023, 08:24:27 PM »
Alice and Eve demolished ScarJos tits badly, they really should now test each other out, I know they need to know who of them is better!

What? Alice Eve is one person. The only other fight is with Rachel Brosnahan.


Offline User1

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Re: Finish Her!
« Reply #2366 on: April 09, 2023, 03:00:07 AM »
Alice and Eve demolished ScarJos tits badly, they really should now test each other out, I know they need to know who of them is better!

What? Alice Eve is one person. The only other fight is with Rachel Brosnahan.

True, my fault!


Offline Jobberfan

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Re: Finish Her!
« Reply #2367 on: April 17, 2023, 06:59:40 AM »
Would love to read more stories wit the super sexy Scarlett Johansson losing!


Offline Huver

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Re: Finish Her!
« Reply #2368 on: April 17, 2023, 10:58:47 PM »
How about some deserving Scar Jo winning!


Offline The Syndicate

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Re: Finish Her!
« Reply #2369 on: April 19, 2023, 04:18:58 AM »
How about some deserving Scar Jo winning!

I think I'll have ya covered soon ;)