[Zord7542]

Brie Larson vs Mary Elizabeth Winsted

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https://i.pinimg.com/originals/32/75/d7/3275d7a8fc62b8aa1c13ce69ad8a2458.jpg


What started out as a simple invite to be part of a dance routine had turned into so much more. For her YouTube Channel Brie Larson had hired someone to come up with a dance routine for her song Black Sheep. Deciding it would be fun to have one of the other cast members along with her, she invited Mary knowing the other actress had experience dancing. The two quickly bumped into eachother several times before and all out Catfight began taking place in the studio.

Both womens workout gear had literal claw marks in it as Brie pinned Mary down to the mat. They sat there for a moment face to face. "So this is why you didn't want a fight scene between us in the movie." Larson smirked down at the sweaty brunette.

Mary fought to push Larson off of her but the blonde wouldn't Budge. "Cheap shotting bitch. Lemme go and I'll tear you apart!" The Ramona actress shouted.

Brie smiled and kissed the woman on the lips. "Guess this makes me another one of your evil exes." She winked before spinning around atop the other woman. Her now famous ass right in Mary's face as she wrapped her powerful legs around the other woman's head.

She moaned as she squeezed. The helpless woman's hands slapping at her ass violently trying to break her grip. She held the scissors for over a minute. Eventually Winstead's hands falling limply on her ass. Brie stood up and planted her foot on the side of the sleeping woman's face. A little drool pooling on the floor. "Next time send who you're dating, maybe they'll have better luck." She said turning beginning to walk to the door of the studio. "This will make a great video" she says winking at the camera and smacking her ass as the other woman is left completely laid out on the floor.


https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/proxy/0KJzHFlk3WIo1lNo1ITDqImyOmiZjKpRO59zwxLhwP5KQ3e-BJhGaTse0vESXeZn-aSpzacon1V3n9fFa7LDIjRY-f5uRaFXMxLhAYXrZ9T9PRsefuGrJcrJ7i7tsTnWMcE

[Jackflash Jump]

Flashback 1961:  Annette Funicello vs Cheryl Miller



If there was an award for Biggest Sweetheart in Celebrity Catfighting, Annette and Cheryl would both be leading contenders.  The two teen tyros had made a big splash on the circuit in their first months, and had impressed everyone with how sweet and friendly they were...at least when they weren't fighting.  In the midst of their matches, they were as fierce as anyone.

So it came as a surprise that there was such an instant dislike between the two.  Perhaps it was because they were too similar in both temperament and talent.  Or maybe it was just some chemical reaction between them.  But from the moment they first met, their eyes narrowed and their nostrils flared.  They never missed an opportunity to hurl catty insults at one another, or run the other down to anyone who would listen.  Clearly, the two young phenoms were on a collision course.



It all came to a head late in their first year as fighters, when it was announced that they had tied one another for the honor of Rookie of the Year.  But that was unacceptable to both Miller and Funicello, who both immediately demanded a match to decide who wins the award.  It would be the first time they would be meeting in combat, and it instantly became the most anticipated match of the season.

And such expectations were more than met.  Despite their newcomer status, and the occasional rookie awkwardness they each displayed, Cheryl and Annette were tremendously gifted fighters, and both had more than a few victories to their credit to prove it.  On this night, they unleashed all of their skills, fueled by their anger and shared animosity, into as savage a contest as any of the elite spectators had seen before!

The brawl dragged on for fifteen...thirty...then forty-five minutes, the spacious living room of the Beverly Hills mansion where it took place turned into a battleground.  Both beauties were driven to the limits of exhaustion and then beyond, their bodies soaked with sweat, their chests heaving as they gasped heavily for breath, their once carefully coiffed hair now damp, matted and tangled, with generous amounts of strands littering the carpeted floor..  To the frustration of both Annette and Cheryl, the two proved too evenly matched, with neither able to hold the advantage over the other for very long.  As the pair were both now drawing on their last dregs of strength, they each realized they would have to win it quickly, or never.

Standing on unsteady legs barely three feet apart, they glared at one another, as each sought to draw upon what scant reserves of power their sore and tired bodies still possessed.  After what seemed like an eternity...was was little more than ten seconds...Funicello started to lunge at her rival.  But an instant later the brunette let out a sharp yelp of pain, stumbled back several steps, and sank to her knees.  All eyes had been focused on Annette, so few had even seen Cheryl drive her left knee up into her charging opponent's groin.

But now Funicello was on her knees, her hands clutching her throbbing womanhood as her whole body trembled, and she choked back a sob.  The blonde's leg lashed out again, this time landing a kick to her rival's chest, which sent Annette sprawling onto her back.  Standing over the brunette, Cheryl began to stomp her foot against and again onto Annette's belly, breasts and head, as her victim squealed and shrieked from the piston-like blows.  It looked like the end had come at last, when suddenly Funicello swept her left arm out, knocking her tormentor's leg out from under her, and sending Miller crashing to the floor, where she landed with a thud and a groan.  The blonde tried to rise up again, but as she got to her knees, Annette threw a wild kick, and now it was Cheryl who felt the explosive agony of a blow to the groin!

The two beauties took several minutes as they both lay on the carpet, trying to marshal whatever remaining power their bodies yet possessed.  And then, as if on some unspoken cue, they both struggled as they sat up, then with no small effort they each managed to rise to their feet.  They said nothing as their eyes bore into one another, but suddenly with the snarls of jungle beasts they threw themselves together.

The sharp sound of foreheads colliding was unmistakable, and in the next instant Annette collapsed to her back like a marionette with its strings cut.  Cheryl, glassy-eyed, teetered precariously, and then keeled forward, her lush body landing upon that of her rival, draping across it.  And there they lay, unconscious and unmoving.

In any other circumstances this would be declared a draw, but given the stakes, a quick conference was called by the host and several prominent spectators, and a decision was reached:  For the first time in Hollywood catfighting history, a pin would decide a match!

And hours later, when Cheryl finally awoke in the bed of one of the mansion's guest rooms (Annette having been carefully transported home), she saw the gleaming golden Rookie of the Year trophy on the nightstand beside her.

[Jackflash Jump]

It's a delightful double shot from the Walkin' Dude!


Different people called it different things.

        Ombudsmen working at events sponsored by major studios referred to it as the Penalty Phase.

        Certain tape producers called it Winner’s Privilege while journalists covering such things preferred the phrase Punishment Round.

        And the fighters actually participating in such contests?

        They’d dubbed it The Humiliation Game.

        Whatever the name, the gist was always the same. A period of anywhere from one to five minutes following the conclusion of the match where the winner is allowed to impose her will on the loser in any way she sees fit.

        Below are just two examples…

********



        Emily proved maddeningly tenacious.

        The blonde had avoided, countered, resisted or flat out denied Gal her Triangle Choke for the better part of thirty minutes, all the while punishing the brunette with (among other things) a series of Bear Hugs applied from various angles. These repeated constrictions took Gadot’s vaunted cardio to the absolute limit, yet a war of attrition was never one sided and the brunette gave as good as she got with numerous Scissors and other body-bending stretches.

        Through it all she never stopped looking for the Triangle, but in the end it was VanCamp’s determination to defend against the hold that proved her undoing.

        In a scramble to keep her arm from the brunette Emily left her head exposed and in that moment Gadot caught her in a snug Figure Four Headscissors. With her left calf snug against the other woman’s throat, Gal planted her left hand like a kickstand and pushed up and forward to drive her hips into the back of VanCamp’s head. Doing so put an ungodly kink in Emily’s windpipe and strong as she was, it took less than ten seconds for her to tap a worried little tattoo on Gadot’s left knee.

        Gal released the Scissors at the sound of the polite chime that signaled the end of the match, but rather than get to her feet she crawled around to Emily’s right and shoveled her onto her stomach with a rude two-handed shove. “This has been a spirited battle. Almost a shame that someone had to lose.” the brunette’s tone was simultaneously contemplative and teasing as she went about the business of removing her foe’s fightin’ sports-bra. “Yet one of us did lose and since we both agreed to a punishment round…” Gadot claimed VanCamp’s wrists, pinned them together behind her back and secured them with the blonde’s shorn top. “…it is only fair that I claim my prize.”

        “Guuuuhhhh…. get on with it.” the blonde rasped, her voice still ragged from the crushing pressure of the Scissors. “Just because you won doesn’t mean you get to be insufferable about OOOOOOWWWWWW BITCH!”

        Gal snatched a massive handful of the blonde’s gunmetal gray trunks and made a good three quarters of the material disappear in a single yank. “That is exactly what it means, bitch.” Gadot punctuated with a hard swat to each bared bun.

        Relinquishing the wedgie after another teasing jostle, Gal twined her fingers in VanCamp’s hair and hauled her to verticality in a series of mean fits and starts. “Did you know a particularly odious executive suggested I use a lasso in my punishment rounds?” the brunette asked her foe as she looped her arms around Emily’s biceps and clasped her hands in the hollow of her back. “It is an amusing enough gimmick I suppose, but I politely declined on the grounds that I-”

        “Am an arrogant bitch who loves the sound of her own voicHHHNNNNNGHH!” VanCamp’s retort collapsed into a agonized groan when Gadot bore down on the Bear Hug with enough force to put the blonde up on tiptoe.

        Savoring the flash of humiliating realization that flashed across Emily’s face, Gal beamed, then leaned in to whisper, “On the grounds that I need no magic to compel the truth from a sniveling brat like you!”

        “Rrrrggghhh… go fuck yourseAAAAARRRRHHHHH GAAAAAAAAAHHH!”

        Gadot dipped her knees and slid the Hug a little lower so she could muscle VanCamp into the air, the thrashing blonde now in the extremely uncharacteristic position of fighting for purchase against another woman’s Bear Hug. Not content to simply hold her rival in place, Gadot set her feet and whipped the blonde back and forth in a violent rag-dolling Emily often gave and very seldom (if ever) received. Gal delivered several bursts of this merciless shaking over the course of perhaps thirty seconds before she set VanCamp down just to haul her up even higher than before! Emily fought the pressure as best she could even managing to get her shins braced against the brunette’s hips for a moment, but in the end Gadot jounced her from the mount and those usually strong legs hung heavy and slack, her toes almost six inches off the canvas.

        Only letting her foe’s feet return to solid ground when she was little better than a dishrag in her grip, Gal touched her forehead to Emily’s and murmured, “The time has come to tell the truth, little girl. Who won the match?”

        VanCamp started to shake her head ‘no’ only to burble in exhausted hurt when Gadot drew the coil even tighter. “Yuuuuhhhhh…. you did.”

        “And who lost the match?”

        “…I didNNNNGGGGHHHH!”

        “Who lost?”

        “I did!”

        “What did you do?”

        “I lost!”

        “I’m sorry, I could you repeat that?” Gadot purred as the Bear Hug wrung out the last of VanCamp’s pride.

        “I LOST!”

        “But I thought you were tough?” Didn’t you tell me you were going to win?”

        “I didn’t!” Em snuffled in abject misery.

        Gal on the other hand was loving every second of her hard-fought victory. “Why didn’t you win?”

        “I’m a loser.”

        “Say it again.”

        “I’m a loser.”

        The towering brunette hoisted her prey skyward and leaned back for a final crushing constriction!

        “WHAT ARE YOU?”

        “A LOSER!” VanCamp bawled. “LOSER! LOSER! LOS--”

        Gadot released her hooks and stepped back, finally allowing the blonde to sprawl at her feet in a gasping heap.

        Hands on her hips, Gal nodded, then placed a foot on Emily’s chest. “Yes.” she agreed. “Yes you are.”



********



        They’d been after each other’s tits all night.

        That in and of itself was hardly surprising, though it was a bit unusual for a match with a Penalty Period attached. Usually such a stipulation meant the cattier tactics wouldn’t make an appearance until the match was decided, tonight however…

        Troian couldn’t even remember how it started. She was fairly certain she’d spilled Naomi out of her top with a particularly stiff Knife-Edge Chop no less than five minutes after the opening bell, but part of her brain insisted she’d concentrated those Chops on the other brunette’s boobs in retaliation for some particularly vicious (and unprovoked!) tweaking on what should have been a clean break in the corner. Of course it might’ve started because they’d both come to the ring in differing shades of pink, and while this was more a lapse of their respective management than the fighters themselves, it guaranteed both wrestlers were hostile before the opening bell ever sounded.

        Regardless of reason, the bout quickly shifted from competitive wrestling to an exhaustive study on how to punish your opponent’s breasts from every conceivable position.

        Catch her in a Camel Clutch? Hook her rack instead of a Chinlock.

        Secured a Bodyscissors? Slap her tits to make things worse.

        Got her in the Abdominal Stretch? Leave the tummy alone in favor of merciless tweaking.

        Sometimes such meanness was inflicted and endured with an icy sort of silence and sometime each fresh slight was greeted with a shriek of infuriated Valkyrie rage. Naomi and Troian found themselves among the latter, each finding new ways to demean and denigrate her foe’s bounty at every opportunity. The brunettes wrestled in this fashion for almost forty-five minutes with none of the usual late-stage shift or drop-off usually seen in particularly long matches. Indeed they were still battling at a fever pitch when Troi countered a Back Body Drop attempt with a Piledriver that DROVE the crown of Naomi’s skull into the mat with a heavy thud. Bellisario settled into a Crossbody more out of instinct than belief the match was over and she looked as surprised as anyone when the official counted…

ONE…
TWO…
THREE!

        Clambering to her feet at the sound of the bell, Troi started to raise a hand, then dropped to her knees when Scott rolled over onto all fours.

        “Guuuuhhhh… got lucky, dammit.” Naomi huffed to no one in particular. “Had to pin because you couldn’t make me subNNGGHHOW!”

        Bellisario cracked a slap across her opponent’s cheeks before treating the spangly ‘NS’ insignia emblazoned upon the seat of Scott’s trunks to a sharp pinch. “Never would’ve gone for the cover if I knew you weren’t going to kick out, honey.” Troian replied as she pressed her battle-weary chest against the other brunette’s back. But since you didn’t, it’s time I took what’s rightfully mine. Can you guess what I want?”

        Naomi didn’t have to guess. They’d both made the same promise several times throughout the course of the match. “Couldn’t make me submit all night, slut.” she answered. “No way you’re gonna do it in three minOOOOOOOHHHHH!”

        The time constraints didn’t seem to phase Bellisario in the slightest, if anything she looked quite motivated when she reached under Naomi’s arms and clamped down on her hanging breasts.

        “You were allowed to wriggle and squirm your way to the ropes during the match, Scotty.” Troian explained as she kneaded the other wrestler’s tits like a baker working particularly stiff dough. “For the next two minutes and forty seven, no, six, seconds, you can’t do anything but plead!”

        “Good luck with that, bitch. I’ll never plead for GGGGGRRRRHHHHH!”

        Bellisario tugged Naomi’s breasts apart only to ‘smack’ them together half a dozen times before resuming that methodical, stress ball-esque squeezing. Troi wiggled in the mount, her smile growing wider when she felt Scott groan against the encroachment of her own modest curves. “Why can’t you take your eyes off the mat, honey? Afraid of how much time is left on the clock?” she purred in Scott’s left ear.

        “Only afraid of how much more of your shit I’ll hear before AAAAIIIIIIEEEEE F*CK YOOOOOOOOOU!”

        There was a minute left on the clock and Troian made it count by taking her foe’s nipples between thumb and forefinger. The victrix didn’t actually twist the sensitive flesh. Rather she pulled, then she rolled and finally she tweaked, an agonizing three part dirge that she repeated over and over again until Scott pounded a palm against the canvas and wailed, “STOP! JUST STOP!”

        “Not until you’re FINISHED.”

        “I….AM.” Naomi growled through clenched teeth. “

        “On your knees.” Bellisario ordered. “On your knees, hands behind your head!”

        Scott cursed, but did as she was told, the exhausted brunette settling into a position that grew even more galling when Troian gave up the tweaking for a possessive ‘hand bra’.

        “These are mine until I say otherwise or you’ve got the guts to take them back. Understand?”

        “You’re going to pay for OOOOOOOHHHHH! YES, YES,YES!”

        Releasing the latest titty twister with a nasty little flourish, Troi snuggled her chin into the side of Naomi’s neck so she could peck a kiss against her cheek. “Keep these safe for me, sweetie. I’m not through with ‘em, not by a long shot.”

        “Yuuuhhhh… you’re fucking through.” Scott rasped. “Next time we fight--”

        “You’ll get more of the same.” Troi promised. “Now keep your hands up until the time runs out. I’ve still got twenty-three seconds and I’m going to use all of it!”

[Jackflash Jump]

I have reposted this because I had to change a photo (I used the wrong actress for Naomi Scott), and was unable to modify or delete the previous post.  Hopefully a moderator of the site will be able to delete the previous version of this post. 

It's a delightful double shot from the Walkin' Dude!

Different people called it different things.

        Ombudsmen working at events sponsored by major studios referred to it as the Penalty Phase.

        Certain tape producers called it Winner’s Privilege while journalists covering such things preferred the phrase Punishment Round.

        And the fighters actually participating in such contests?

        They’d dubbed it The Humiliation Game.

        Whatever the name, the gist was always the same. A period of anywhere from one to five minutes following the conclusion of the match where the winner is allowed to impose her will on the loser in any way she sees fit.

        Below are just two examples…

********



        Emily proved maddeningly tenacious.

        The blonde had avoided, countered, resisted or flat out denied Gal her Triangle Choke for the better part of thirty minutes, all the while punishing the brunette with (among other things) a series of Bear Hugs applied from various angles. These repeated constrictions took Gadot’s vaunted cardio to the absolute limit, yet a war of attrition was never one sided and the brunette gave as good as she got with numerous Scissors and other body-bending stretches.

        Through it all she never stopped looking for the Triangle, but in the end it was VanCamp’s determination to defend against the hold that proved her undoing.

        In a scramble to keep her arm from the brunette Emily left her head exposed and in that moment Gadot caught her in a snug Figure Four Headscissors. With her left calf snug against the other woman’s throat, Gal planted her left hand like a kickstand and pushed up and forward to drive her hips into the back of VanCamp’s head. Doing so put an ungodly kink in Emily’s windpipe and strong as she was, it took less than ten seconds for her to tap a worried little tattoo on Gadot’s left knee.

        Gal released the Scissors at the sound of the polite chime that signaled the end of the match, but rather than get to her feet she crawled around to Emily’s right and shoveled her onto her stomach with a rude two-handed shove. “This has been a spirited battle. Almost a shame that someone had to lose.” the brunette’s tone was simultaneously contemplative and teasing as she went about the business of removing her foe’s fightin’ sports-bra. “Yet one of us did lose and since we both agreed to a punishment round…” Gadot claimed VanCamp’s wrists, pinned them together behind her back and secured them with the blonde’s shorn top. “…it is only fair that I claim my prize.”

        “Guuuuhhhh…. get on with it.” the blonde rasped, her voice still ragged from the crushing pressure of the Scissors. “Just because you won doesn’t mean you get to be insufferable about OOOOOOWWWWWW BITCH!”

        Gal snatched a massive handful of the blonde’s gunmetal gray trunks and made a good three quarters of the material disappear in a single yank. “That is exactly what it means, bitch.” Gadot punctuated with a hard swat to each bared bun.

        Relinquishing the wedgie after another teasing jostle, Gal twined her fingers in VanCamp’s hair and hauled her to verticality in a series of mean fits and starts. “Did you know a particularly odious executive suggested I use a lasso in my punishment rounds?” the brunette asked her foe as she looped her arms around Emily’s biceps and clasped her hands in the hollow of her back. “It is an amusing enough gimmick I suppose, but I politely declined on the grounds that I-”

        “Am an arrogant bitch who loves the sound of her own voicHHHNNNNNGHH!” VanCamp’s retort collapsed into a agonized groan when Gadot bore down on the Bear Hug with enough force to put the blonde up on tiptoe.

        Savoring the flash of humiliating realization that flashed across Emily’s face, Gal beamed, then leaned in to whisper, “On the grounds that I need no magic to compel the truth from a sniveling brat like you!”

        “Rrrrggghhh… go fuck yourseAAAAARRRRHHHHH GAAAAAAAAAHHH!”

        Gadot dipped her knees and slid the Hug a little lower so she could muscle VanCamp into the air, the thrashing blonde now in the extremely uncharacteristic position of fighting for purchase against another woman’s Bear Hug. Not content to simply hold her rival in place, Gadot set her feet and whipped the blonde back and forth in a violent rag-dolling Emily often gave and very seldom (if ever) received. Gal delivered several bursts of this merciless shaking over the course of perhaps thirty seconds before she set VanCamp down just to haul her up even higher than before! Emily fought the pressure as best she could even managing to get her shins braced against the brunette’s hips for a moment, but in the end Gadot jounced her from the mount and those usually strong legs hung heavy and slack, her toes almost six inches off the canvas.

        Only letting her foe’s feet return to solid ground when she was little better than a dishrag in her grip, Gal touched her forehead to Emily’s and murmured, “The time has come to tell the truth, little girl. Who won the match?”

        VanCamp started to shake her head ‘no’ only to burble in exhausted hurt when Gadot drew the coil even tighter. “Yuuuuhhhhh…. you did.”

        “And who lost the match?”

        “…I didNNNNGGGGHHHH!”

        “Who lost?”

        “I did!”

        “What did you do?”

        “I lost!”

        “I’m sorry, I could you repeat that?” Gadot purred as the Bear Hug wrung out the last of VanCamp’s pride.

        “I LOST!”

        “But I thought you were tough?” Didn’t you tell me you were going to win?”

        “I didn’t!” Em snuffled in abject misery.

        Gal on the other hand was loving every second of her hard-fought victory. “Why didn’t you win?”

        “I’m a loser.”

        “Say it again.”

        “I’m a loser.”

        The towering brunette hoisted her prey skyward and leaned back for a final crushing constriction!

        “WHAT ARE YOU?”

        “A LOSER!” VanCamp bawled. “LOSER! LOSER! LOS--”

        Gadot released her hooks and stepped back, finally allowing the blonde to sprawl at her feet in a gasping heap.

        Hands on her hips, Gal nodded, then placed a foot on Emily’s chest. “Yes.” she agreed. “Yes you are.”



********



        They’d been after each other’s tits all night.

        That in and of itself was hardly surprising, though it was a bit unusual for a match with a Penalty Period attached. Usually such a stipulation meant the cattier tactics wouldn’t make an appearance until the match was decided, tonight however…

        Troian couldn’t even remember how it started. She was fairly certain she’d spilled Naomi out of her top with a particularly stiff Knife-Edge Chop no less than five minutes after the opening bell, but part of her brain insisted she’d concentrated those Chops on the other brunette’s boobs in retaliation for some particularly vicious (and unprovoked!) tweaking on what should have been a clean break in the corner. Of course it might’ve started because they’d both come to the ring in differing shades of pink, and while this was more a lapse of their respective management than the fighters themselves, it guaranteed both wrestlers were hostile before the opening bell ever sounded.

        Regardless of reason, the bout quickly shifted from competitive wrestling to an exhaustive study on how to punish your opponent’s breasts from every conceivable position.

        Catch her in a Camel Clutch? Hook her rack instead of a Chinlock.

        Secured a Bodyscissors? Slap her tits to make things worse.

        Got her in the Abdominal Stretch? Leave the tummy alone in favor of merciless tweaking.

        Sometimes such meanness was inflicted and endured with an icy sort of silence and sometime each fresh slight was greeted with a shriek of infuriated Valkyrie rage. Naomi and Troian found themselves among the latter, each finding new ways to demean and denigrate her foe’s bounty at every opportunity. The brunettes wrestled in this fashion for almost forty-five minutes with none of the usual late-stage shift or drop-off usually seen in particularly long matches. Indeed they were still battling at a fever pitch when Troi countered a Back Body Drop attempt with a Piledriver that DROVE the crown of Naomi’s skull into the mat with a heavy thud. Bellisario settled into a Crossbody more out of instinct than belief the match was over and she looked as surprised as anyone when the official counted…

ONE…
TWO…
THREE!

        Clambering to her feet at the sound of the bell, Troi started to raise a hand, then dropped to her knees when Scott rolled over onto all fours.

        “Guuuuhhhh… got lucky, dammit.” Naomi huffed to no one in particular. “Had to pin because you couldn’t make me subNNGGHHOW!”

        Bellisario cracked a slap across her opponent’s cheeks before treating the spangly ‘NS’ insignia emblazoned upon the seat of Scott’s trunks to a sharp pinch. “Never would’ve gone for the cover if I knew you weren’t going to kick out, honey.” Troian replied as she pressed her battle-weary chest against the other brunette’s back. But since you didn’t, it’s time I took what’s rightfully mine. Can you guess what I want?”

        Naomi didn’t have to guess. They’d both made the same promise several times throughout the course of the match. “Couldn’t make me submit all night, slut.” she answered. “No way you’re gonna do it in three minOOOOOOOHHHHH!”

        The time constraints didn’t seem to phase Bellisario in the slightest, if anything she looked quite motivated when she reached under Naomi’s arms and clamped down on her hanging breasts.

        “You were allowed to wriggle and squirm your way to the ropes during the match, Scotty.” Troian explained as she kneaded the other wrestler’s tits like a baker working particularly stiff dough. “For the next two minutes and forty seven, no, six, seconds, you can’t do anything but plead!”

        “Good luck with that, bitch. I’ll never plead for GGGGGRRRRHHHHH!”

        Bellisario tugged Naomi’s breasts apart only to ‘smack’ them together half a dozen times before resuming that methodical, stress ball-esque squeezing. Troi wiggled in the mount, her smile growing wider when she felt Scott groan against the encroachment of her own modest curves. “Why can’t you take your eyes off the mat, honey? Afraid of how much time is left on the clock?” she purred in Scott’s left ear.

        “Only afraid of how much more of your shit I’ll hear before AAAAIIIIIIEEEEE F*CK YOOOOOOOOOU!”

        There was a minute left on the clock and Troian made it count by taking her foe’s nipples between thumb and forefinger. The victrix didn’t actually twist the sensitive flesh. Rather she pulled, then she rolled and finally she tweaked, an agonizing three part dirge that she repeated over and over again until Scott pounded a palm against the canvas and wailed, “STOP! JUST STOP!”

        “Not until you’re FINISHED.”

        “I….AM.” Naomi growled through clenched teeth. “

        “On your knees.” Bellisario ordered. “On your knees, hands behind your head!”

        Scott cursed, but did as she was told, the exhausted brunette settling into a position that grew even more galling when Troian gave up the tweaking for a possessive ‘hand bra’.

        “These are mine until I say otherwise or you’ve got the guts to take them back. Understand?”

        “You’re going to pay for OOOOOOOHHHHH! YES, YES,YES!”

        Releasing the latest titty twister with a nasty little flourish, Troi snuggled her chin into the side of Naomi’s neck so she could peck a kiss against her cheek. “Keep these safe for me, sweetie. I’m not through with ‘em, not by a long shot.”

        “Yuuuhhhh… you’re fucking through.” Scott rasped. “Next time we fight--”

        “You’ll get more of the same.” Troi promised. “Now keep your hands up until the time runs out. I’ve still got twenty-three seconds and I’m going to use all of it!”

[the_walkin_dude]

Many thanks for the posting / editing Flash, it's much appreciated. One of these days I'll figure out the picture situation and start posting these things myself.

Thanks again,

~rf

[Golden Goddess]

A quickie from me tonight. I'm back on my Ferrario kick. <3

Stefania Ferrario vs. Kate Upton



Stefania Ferrario was a woman who found enjoyment in the simple things in life. Things like the warm sun on her face on a bright summer's day, the touch of a pet helping her relax in the evening, a delicious meal of a favorite food that she hadn't had in a long while. Simple things....simple things, such as the feel of another woman trapped beneath her, struggling to escape her grasp.

That was the position that Kate Upton found herself in tonight.

What Kate had thought would be an easy apartment fight between herself and Stefania Ferrario had quickly proven to be anything but. Her fellow blonde model, a woman who was slightly shorter but held a noticeable weight advantage, had came at her fast and she had came at her hard. Kate wasn't expecting the woman to be so skilled, but it was only a quick matter of time before the blonde bombshell found herself wrestled down to the floor, facedown against the carpet, and it wasn't long after that before Stefania had mounted Kate from above, making herself comfortable atop of the taller woman.

And now? Stefania was enjoying one of those simple things she craved so much. She had managed to slip her arm around Kate's neck, locking her into a simple-yet-undeniably effective sleeper hold. Kate had struggled against her at first, of course, but the thicker Stefania adjusted her position and tightened her arm around Kate's neck, ensuring that despite all of Kate's struggles that she wouldn't be able to dismount Stefania from atop her.

And soon, just like that, Kate's struggles began to slow, and began to cease, as her breathing became harder and more labored. Stefania grinning from her position lying atop of Kate's back, feeling every single subtle movement of Kate's body beneath her, feeling every lil' twitch, every lil' breath, every lil' forced movement that Kate made as she struggled to hang on, struggled to find a way free.

But that freedom never came. Stefania's sleeper hold, as simple as a hold could be but as effective as one could dare imagine, was slowly draining the air from Kate, and it wasn't too much longer before Kate couldn't go on. Sooon enough, her eyes began to flutter shut, and her actions ceased, her struggles stopping as she went limp and still beneath of Stefania.

Ferrario held her sleeper for a moment longer, then smiled, letting her arm loosen from around Kate's neck. She leaned in close, planting her soft lips gentle against Kate's cheek with a single mocking kiss, before pulling away, Stefania moving to stand once more. She gathered her things and she began to go, leaving Upton in a drooling, unconscious mess on the floor behind her.

It was the simple things that brought Stefania enjoyment, and there were few things more enjoyable than taking out a woman like Kate in such a simple, effective manner.

[Jackflash Jump]

FLASHBACK 2011:
TEAM SLAYER:  Sarah Michelle Gellar, Alyson Hannlgan, Eliza Dushku & Michelle Trachtenberg
vs.
TEAM SUPREME:  Kristin Kreuk, Cassidy Freeman, Laura Vandervoort & Alexz Johnson

The long-running feud between Sarah and Kristin had escalated to the point where both women recruited allies for a four-on-four brawl.  The rules were simple: there are none.  Both teams battle until all four members of one team are pinned, submit or are KO'd.

Naturally enough, chaos erupted in the ring, as eight battling beauties tore into each other.  There was some trading of opponents as the fight wore on, but soon enough each wrestler paired off with what each considered her opposite number, and focused on each other.

Initially, Gellar's Team Slayer largely held the upper hand.  But as the minutes ticked by, Kreuk's Team Supreme steadily began to take control.  Now, a full thirty minutes into the brawl, things looked bleak for Sarah and her partners...

Sarah was slumped in a corner as Kristin pressed the sole of her boot against the blonde's throat, choking her as Gellar's feet thrashed haplessly against the mat.  Alyson was likewise finding it difficult to breath, as her throat was pressed upon the middle rope, and Cassidy was pushing her right knee down hard on her opponent's back to keep her there, bouncing up and down as redheaded Aly gurgled for air.  Eliza was in another corner, arms slung over the top ropes as Laura made like a boxer and hammering fist after fist into her rival's belly and face.  And Michelle squirmed on the canvas as Alexz tightened a Figure Four Headscissors on her, the brunette's hands frantically yet futilely tugging at her oppressor's thighs.

It was then that Kreuk called out to her partners, "Rodeo time, ladies!"  This was the signal to drag their dazed foes to the center of the ring, and from there Irish Whip each of them into a corner.  That accomplished, they went to there adversaries and hoisted them up, turning them upside down and hanging each of them in a corner in Trees of Woe.  Team Slayer hung moaning and helpless as Team Supreme met again in center ring.

They then rushed at their rivals and executed Bronco Busters on them, clutching the middle ropes for support as they ground their crotches into the faces of their adversaries, smothering them.  The crowd erupted at the sight of this, and even Team Slayer's most ardent fans found themselves cheering in spite of themselves.

After what seemed like an eternity for Gellar's team, their opponents released their holds.  They then pulled their semi-conscious foes from the corners and dragged them to center ring.  Eliza was laid out on the canvas first, with Michelle pulled across her.  Then Alyson was placed upon them, and finally Sarah topped the pile.  Each member of Team Supreme placed her right foot on top of the pile of mewling, beaten beauties and ordered the referee to count to ten.

[boobytrap]

This is awesome! I wanna see this continue, maybe Team Slayer gets some payback in a gimmick match or there's an ambush in the showers.Great work 

[Jackflash Jump]

HWA: Alyson Hannlgan vs Cassidy Freeman




They say that the definition of insanity is repetition of an action and expecting a different result each time.  If that is indeed the case, then Cassidy might well be certifiable, for she repeatedly scrambled up off of the mat, despite the knowing certainty that Alyson was going to put her right back down there again with a standing dropkick.

After four of these, the somewhat punchdrunk Freeman struggled to once again regain her footing.  But this time, Hannlgan shifted tactics, taking her by the arm and Irish Whipping her into the ropes.  Cassidy bounded off of the cables and rushed back toward her adversary, who met her with a hip toss.  Like a ragdoll, Freeman flipped through the air, landed on her posterior, bounced twice, and promptly sought the safety of ringside by rolling to the ropes and tumbling to a heap on the arena floor.

She made the most of her twenty count, walking around the ring, warily keeping an eye on Alyson as she caught her second wind.  Finally as the ref neared the end of his count, Freeman cautiously climbed up onto the apron and slipped between the ropes…only to promptly jump back out and down to the floor again.  Her patience exhausted, Hannlgan stepped between the ropes and jumped down to the floor as well, intent on continuing the fight there.

But what she hadn’t noticed was that Cassidy had reached into the cleavage of her suit and pulled out a small, slim aerosol vial.  As Alyson neared her rival, Freeman raised it and pumped down the button, ejecting a spray of mist into the redhead’s eyes.  Hannlgan, now blinded, shrieked, her knuckles furiously rubbing at her stinging eyes as she staggered backward.  A now smirking Freeman grabbed her foe by the hair at the back of her head, led her to the ring, and then slammed her face down into the apron once…twice…thrice!

Cassidy then rolled her now badly dazed opponent in under the ropes, and then joined her in the ring.  Again taking Alyson by the hair, she pulled her to her feet and dragged her stumbling to the center of the ring.

She threw a quick punch to Hannlgan’s belly, doubling her over, and pulled her adversary’s head between her thighs.  Wrapping her arms around Alyson’s waist, Cassidy grunted and lifted her rival up, until the hapless Hannlgan’s body was vertical, her feet pointed to the arena’s ceiling.

Instead of immediately executing her signature Piledriver finisher, Freeman began to slowly rotate around, showing off her helpless opponent to all four sides of the arena.  The deafening roar was a mixture of cheers from Freeman’s fans, and books from Hannlgan’s.

Finally, Cassidy dropped to her knees, executing  Tombstone that spiked the crown of Alyson’s skull into the thinly-covered plywood ring floor with the full weight of both women behind it.  Hannlgan’s body collapsed to the mat like a felled redwood, and Freeman rolled her over onto her back, where she lay motionless save for an involuntary spasmodic twitching of her left leg.

Cassidy then reclined back across her beaten rival’s torso as if she were a settee, casually…contemptuously, really…examining her outstretched left hand to make certain she hadn’t chipped an expensively manicured nail.  The referee slapped the canvas one…two…three!  The bell tolled, and Team Supreme chalked up another ‘W’ over Team Slayer.

[Jackflash Jump]

Megan Thee Stallion vs Kate Upton



Kate gurgled and gasped for breath as Megan tightened the Rear Naked Chokehold, her arm drawn firmly across the blonde’s windpipe.  The ebony battler made certain they were turned so that the spectators in this penthouse battle got a clear look of their voluptuous sweat-glistening bodies, clad now only in bikini panties, with Megan clearly in command on her faltering rival.  Another minute or so of this, and the fight would be all over.

Upton knew that to be true as well, but instead of giving in to panic, her desperation bred determination to escape.  Reaching up and behind with her hands, she grasped the black mane of her rival and, in a sudden blur of motion, dropped to one knee as she flipped Megan over her shoulder.  The startled beauty landed with a thud on her back, momentarily confounded over what had happened.

After the span of a few quickened heartbeats, Megan sat up, ready to resume the brawl.  But the blonde proved a shade quicker, and in an instant she had grasped the arms of her adversary and yanked them back, even as she pressed a knee into Megan’s spine.  Now it was the ebony-skinned beauty’s turn to suffer.

Shifting tactics somewhat, Upton suddenly released her foe’s arms, and instead cupped her hands beneath Megan’s chin, painfully yanking her head back as the knee continued to grind into her back.  But although this increased her suffering, it also presented the brunette with an advantage, and she seized it: her hands darting up, her nails raked across the eyes of her tormentor.  Kate shrieked, released her hold, and fell to the floor.

After nearly forty full minutes of battle, both beauties were teetering on the edge of total exhaustion.  Each took more than a minute to catch her breath and rally what scant reserves of power each still possessed.  Finally then both struggled up to their feet and limped toward one another.  They stood there, eyes locked, nostrils flaring as each greedily sucked in air for their seared lungs.  The hatred these two felt for one another was palpable to every observer in the room.

Then Megan raised her right arm and delivered a forearm smash to her opponent’s chest.  Kate let out an anguished yelp as beads of sweat exploded from her body.  The blonde returned the blow to her rival, with an identical result.  Both then began trading such hammering blows, their breasts bouncing wildly from the impacts.  Still, neither would relent, no matter how devastating the pain.

Finally, as if on some signal heard only to them, they ceased their pummeling.  The only sound in the room now were their panting for breath, as their drenched bodies trembled from the simple demand of remaining upright.

With a viper blur of motion, they flung themselves at one another, each wrapping their arms around the body of the other.  And there they stood in a duel of bearhugs, each beauty pouring every last dreg of strength she had left into her crushing embrace.  The pair gasped and moaned as one, their 36DDs agonizingly pancaked against one another

Seconds seemed like hours as Kate and Megan tortured one another in their python embraces.  Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Megan gave out a long, loud moan, then her arms fell open, her head lolled backward, and her magnificent body went limp.  Upton continued squeezing her for several more moments, perhaps too dazed herself to realize what had happened.  But then she opened her arms and let her rival collapse to the floor in a heap.

The blonde stood over her fallen foe for several moments, staring down blankly at her.  And then her legs crumpled and she collapsed atop Megan, spent yet victorious.

[the_walkin_dude]

Flash,

Excellent work as always on these most recent efforts, count me especially pleased to see you bringing Cassidy Freeman into the fold (and victorious, no less!) she's a woefully underutilized femfight muse in my opinion.

Thanks for sharing,

~RF

[boobytrap]

A great follow-up to the Slayer vs Supreme series! Let's hope Team Slayer seeks out a win next time, they're getting stomped right now. Love see Megan The Stallion getting ring time, she the vr for one of my wrestlers in FAWN.

[Jackflash Jump]

Sarah Michelle Gellar vs Kristin Kreuk: Indian Strap Match




Panting, her golden hair damp and tangled as it hung down either side of her face, Sarah slowly crawled on all fours toward a corner of the ring.  Looped around her right wrist was the end of a twelve foot narrow leather strap, the other end of which was secured around the wrist of her opponent.  And as she made her laborious crawl, behind her slowly strolled Kristin, smirking as she followed the arduous trek of her rival, letting Gellar expend precious dregs of her waning strength as she struggled to reach the corner.

Once she finally reached it, the blonde grasped at the ropes and used them to help pull herself back up to her feet.  She was almost completely upright when suddenly she felt a hand grasp the hair on the back of her head, yank her backward, and then smash her face into the top turnbuckle.  Her body slumping, all that kept Sarah from crumpling to the mat were her arms, draped over the top ropes as she rested the side of her face against the buckle pad.  Her glazed eyes made it plain she needed precious time to recover.  Unfortunately, Kreuk wasn’t about to grant her that boon.

As the blonde sagged against the turnbuckles, Kristin took a length of strap, raised it, and then began lashing the leather across her adversary’s alabaster back.  The makeshift whip cracked viciously across the tender flesh, which was swiftly marred by ugly red slashes, as Sarah’s agonized screams sent chills down the spines of the spectators.

Finally the referee had had enough, and he ordered Kreuk to cease her thrashing of Gellar, and allow the blonde to escape from the corner.  “Here, I’ll be nice and help her,” the brunette replied with a malicious gleam in her eye, and she wrapped the strap around Sarah’s throat, pulling her away from the turnbuckles and dragging her stumbling to the center of the ring.  There, she tightened her improvised rawhide garrote, as the blonde’s fingers frantically clutched and tugged at the noose, and her face turned ever-deepening shades of red, and she gasped and gurgled piteously.

“Tell me, Sarah…is your career flashing before your eyes?” Kreuk asked contemptuously.  “All of those triumphs in your past, now rendered pointless because you’ve finally met the superior woman?”  A sinister smile now broadening on her lips, the brunette continues.  “I’m not just going to win the match tonight…I’m going to end your career once and for all.  I’ll make you beg me for mercy, and then you’ll crawl your beaten ass out of the ring forever.  And then my girls are going to absolutely ruin the rest of your pathetic teammates.”

From behind her victim, Kristin leaned in close, her mouth next to the blonde’s ear.  Then she purred, “Consider yourself slayed, bitch!”

It was a good line, one she’s been waiting months to deliver it.  And it was happening exactly how she envisioned it would be.

But what she hadn’t imagined was what happened next.  Even as the last syllable left Kreuk’s pouty lips, Sarah reached up with her hands, clasped them behind her opponent’s head, and then suddenly dropped down to her butt, pulling the brunette down with her.  Their descent came to an abrupt halt as Kristin’s chin slammed into Gellar’s shoulder in a Stunner.  The impact sent the brunette flying backwards, as floppy as a rag doll.

Both beauties lay motionless on the mat for nearly a full minute, the ref debating whether to start a long count, or else just call for the bell.  But then slowly, agonizingly, each stirred and struggled to roll over to her hands and knees.  Sarah made it up first, and then pushed herself back up to her feet.  Grabbing Kristin by the hair, she hauled her up as well.  She dragged the mewling brunette by her locks over to the side of the ring, then proceeded to rake Kreuk’s eyes across the top rope, blinding her.

Now hauling her foe over to the nearest corner, Gellar slammed Kreuk’s face into the turnbuckle five full times, more than paying back the previous face slam that the blonde had suffered.  Now it was time to provide another receipt….

With great effort, her adrenaline flowing, Sarah grunted as she wrapped her arms around Kristin’s waist from behind and hoisted her up, laying her atop the turnbuckle on her belly, so that her body was draped over it.  Now she stepped back, grabbed the strap with her right hand, and administered a lashing to Kreuk’s derriere!  The leather cracked against her behind like gunshots, each blow eliciting a howl of agonized protest from the brunette.  Finally the referee had to warn the blonde that it was time to put a halt to this punishment.  But that suited Sarah fine, as she was ready to finish off her rival once and for all.

She grabbed Kristin by the ankles and yanked her off of the turnbuckle, sending the brunette crashing to the mat with a thud and a long, painful groan.  She then dragged her by the ankles to the middle of the ring and sat on her foe’s back.  She draped Kreuk’s arms over her bent knees in what was obviously a set up for a Camel Clutch.

However, instead of cupping her hands beneath her victim’s chin, Gellar instead wound the leather strap several times around Kristin’s head, and grasped each end.  She then leaned back, while the strap not only pulled the brunette’s head back at the neck, wrenching her spine, but also tightened around her skull.  Kreuk let out piercing screams, betraying her anguish.

She was able to endure this for just shy of thirty seconds before her hand began to furiously tap at her tormentor’s leg.  But even as the ref was about to call for the bell, Gellar growled, “Ignore that!  Get a mic!”  The official did as he was told, ordering the announcer to hand him his wireless microphone.  The zebra placed the mic close to Kreuk’s mouth as Sarah commanded, “Say it, you bitch!”

“N-no…never!” the now sobbing brunette moaned.  But her willfulness quickly evaporated, and within moments she was blubbering, “OOOOHHHHHH...I GIVE UP!  I GIVE UP!!!  LET ME GOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

That was all the referee needed to hear, and a second later the bell tolled, signaling the end of the match.  Her victory achieved, Sarah was no longer interested in Kristin, and she released the hold.  She was able to stand up only with the help of the ref, who raised her arm, and then removed the tether from her wrist.

Humiliated, Kristin rolled over onto her back and glared at her rival with hate-filled eyes.  “You’ve just made two mistakes,” she hissed.  “First, not finishing me off for good.  And second, thinking this is over!”

“Oh, I know it’s not over,” Sarah disdainfully rasped.  “In fact, I’m counting on getting you in the ring again soon, so I can kick your bitch ass all over again.”

Sarah then flashed a smile to the cheering crowd and exited the ring, as Kristin threw a hissy fit, her boots and fists stamping at the mat as she lay on her back, but already her scheming mind calculating her revenge.

[boobytrap]

Wooo! So glad to see SMG and Team Slayer get a win, another great battle between the formative franchises of my childhood. Can't wait to see if there's a next installment, a face turn? A heel turn? where do you think the story could go?

[Jackflash Jump]

Hayden Panettiere vs Brenda Song




As exhaustion sets in, the two battlers are past the point where they attempt skillfully applied holds.  Now, they roughly wrap their arms around each other, clinching their sweat-soaked bodies tight together as they pant and grunt.

Suddenly, a shriek of shock and pain fills the air, as Hayden savagely bites her opponent's forehead.  Stunned by the primitive attack, Brenda breaks her clinch and tries to push away from her adversary.  In so doing her balance is thrown off, and the wily blonde is able to shove her roughly to the floor.  Before the brunette can even begin to attempt to get back upright, Panettiere begins to stomp away brutally at Song's belly, chest and face with her foot, swiftly reducing the Asian-American to a stunned and mewling heap upon the mansion floor.

With what adrenaline she has left coursing through her veins, Hayden drops to her knees and rolls the dazed Brenda over onto her belly, then sits on the small of the brunette's back, facing her feet.  Her hands deftly grab Song's bikini bottoms and yank them down her legs, then twists them around the Asian's ankles, binding them together.  This allows Panettiere to hold the garment with her left hand, and to pull her rival's legs up and back, while with her right, she reaches behind herself and grabs Brenda's hair close to the scalp, so that she can yank her head back.  Snapped out of her stupor by the pain coursing through her spine and neck, Brenda howls in agony.

Still, the embattled beauty refuses to concede.  This does not frustrate her rival any, as Hayden now has a new idea of how to not only drive her opponent to submission, but to humiliate her as well.  Panettiere releases her hold, undoing the bikini briefs to free her foe's ankles, but any relief which Brenda now feels over no longer being tormented as she won is quickly shattered, as the blonde climbs off of her prey, shoves her onto her back, and then grabs her bikini top, tugging the fabric until it gives way.  Now stripped nude, her unclothed body fully exposed by her hated adversary before the eyes of the elite spectators, Song blushes, and tries to cover her breasts with her arms.

Rising up now, her eyes gleaming with malicious intent, the blonde pulls the squealing Asian up by her hair.  Then, in a remarkable display of raw power, considering how otherwise physically spent she was mere minutes ago, Hayden wraps her arms around Brenda, gives a loud grunt, and pulls the brunette's lithe body up, draping her back across Panettiere's right shoulder.

As Brenda yowled in agonized protest, her spine again bent painfully, Hayden began to slowly walk around the room, displaying her victim as an Amazon warrior would display her conquered prey.  Song's nude body squirmed helplessly, tears filling her eyes, as she was shown off in her abject helplessness.

"STOP!" the brunette wailed.  "NO MORE!  I GIVE UP!!!"

Victory was hers at last...but Hayden wasn't interested in a submission any longer.

"Bitch," the blonde sneered.  "It's too late to give up.  Now we fight to a knock out!"

"Noooooooooooooo!" Song whimpered, but Panettiere ignored her pleas as she let her opponent fall to the floor.  With viper speed, Hayden say on the sobbing Brenda's chest and looked down at her.

"Y-you don't have to do this!" the Asian sniveled.

"I know," the blonde purred.  "But I want to, so I will."

And with that she slid her body forward, her groin pressing down over the mouth and nose of her victim.  Brenda's muffled cries betrayed her panic and helplessness, as her spent body squirmed haplessly beneath her oppressor.  Soon enough, Song ceased moving altogether, as she was driven into malicious unconsciousness by her insidious rival, who was thoroughly enjoying the spectacle of utterly humiliating her vaunted opponent.

Finally the blonde struggled back up to her feet, brushing errant golden locks away from her deceptively angelic face.  She placed a foot upon the heaving chest of the slumbering brunette, and let the cheers of the spectators wash over her.