One Way Out — Ivan Ramirez versus Kasumi Nishimiya

[Ichi]

     Admittedly, transient doubt had momentarily plagued Kasumi around the time that she threw her counter flying knee. But the feeling of her opponent's jaw ricocheting off her patella, and the visual confirmation of her victim taking the brunt of the blow and landing flat on his back all but resoundingly validated the efficacy of her counter. Thus, in the span of a split second, Kasumi's mind went from trepidation to self-assured elation.
     Even the sight of her victim rising up to a seated position after his head bounced off the canvas did not perturb Kasumi in the slightest—it was clear that such a blow had rocked her opponent to the core, and that he was on his last legs. The performative attempt to rise from defeat was an empty gesture, an attempt at recouping some semblance of pride in a clearly lost position.
     "Fucking pathetic," spat Kasumi as she gazed upon her all but defeated opponent while he sat in a daze, spitting blood-tinged saliva from his mouth.
     Kasumi would attempt to slam her heel on her opponent's groin—such would be her way of ensuring total dominance and disabusing her victim of any delusions of efficacy. If that succeeded, Kasumi would then attempt to grab Ivan by the hair and yank him towards her face. "In LAW, you're nothing but a plaything for those who actually matter," Kasumi would say, looking directly into her opponent's eyes as she sneered.

[MR. Q]

Ivan felt the impact shudder through his skull like a depth charge. Kasumi's knee had hit with bone-jarring force, leaving him stunned and reeling.

As Kasumi taunted him from above, Ivan slowly shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs of pain and confusion. He knew she was right—he was outmatched, outgunned, and outclassed. But pride, stubborn pride, kept him going.

"Fuck you..." he croaked, his voice slurred and thick with blood. He spat crimson flecks onto the canvas. "I ain't nobody's toy."

Not that Kasumi cared about his defiance. Her foot lashed out, targeting his groin with vicious intent.

Ivan grunted as Kasumi's heel slammed into his groin. But even through the haze of pain, Ivan's reflexes kicked in. His hand shot out, grabbing Kasumi's ankle in a vice-like grip before she could pull away.

"I... I ain't done yet..." he snarled through gritted teeth, his free leg whipping around in a brutal kick aimed squarely at Kasumi's crotch.

[Ichi]

     It turned out that even the bespectacled beauty—or rather, the bespectacled bitch—had some semblance of restraint. What should have been a testicle-rupturing stomp, at least in Kasumi's mind, was watered down to a firm stomp on her opponent's virile efficacy

"[V]irile efficacy" is a fucky euphemism for "testicles".

. But said restraint was zero parts empathetic concern for her victim's well-being and full parts an attempt to avoid liability for sterilizing an element of LAW's de facto cannon fodder reserve: a male wrestler, whose only utility was ostensibly to enhance female talent

This narration is semi-in-character and does not reflect the views of the writer.

.
     Unfortunately for Kasumi, this brief moment of self-interested restraint would prove to be patently deleterious to her. The seemingly illusory blur of a grasping hand flashed in the bottom periphery of her vision, only for its veracity to be summarily branded into her conscious consideration as the sharp nails adorning her opponent's fingertips stabbed into the supple flesh of her calf. The gripping sensation invoked a transient arrhythmic flutter in her chest, one that impelled her to turn away on the next beat.
     But her opponent's snarled words cut through her consciousness, disrupting her rhythm and injecting ice into her veins. The following incident strike landed during the interstices between rhythmic beats, completely desynchronizing Kasumi from whatever internal rhythm she had. Toe impacted clit, battering the delicate space between Kasumi's legs in the most targeted way possible. The force impacted the sensitive bundle of nerves, crushing it against her pelvic bone and turning what would normally be a locus of her feminine pleasure into a source of impending abject pain.
     At first, it was the sort of overwhelming sensation that she knew would hurt, yet somehow supplanted immediate pain with instant shock. The reverberation of the impact, and the leading sensation of soft flesh against hard bone, forced a gasp out of the bespectacled beauty. Her breath, however, was shallow, constrained as if a lattice of scar tissue across her chest had stymied her sternum. Yet, not willing to cede all initiative to her opponent, Kasumi forced her fleetingly numb, shattered body to turn away.
     One foot after another is what others often tritely say—but such rang as patently disingenuous as Kasumi tried to step with her lead foot. Mid-step, the shockwave from the veritable explosion that was detonated on her tender clit simultaneously reached her legs and registered in her brain. In an instant, all cohesion in her leg muscles was lost and supplanted with the chaotic and inefficacious firing of nerves—her shapely legs were rendered little more than jelly, causing the bespectacled beauty to fall face-first into the mat when her lead led tried to find its purchase. At the moment of impact, her eyes slammed shut into a grimace, tears leaking out onto the lenses of her glasses and onto the rough mat below.
     The fall left Kasumi in a face-down ass-up position, with her skirt barely covering her legs and panties barely hidden by fabric. She whimpered and gasped in pain, all while screaming for her lifeless arms to drag her away. But in this context, her vocalizations could be mistaken for the impassioned pleas for a stallion. And her present position presented her anatomy, as if she were a mare, ready to be bred.

[MR. Q]

Ivan stared down at Kasumi's prone form, his chest heaving with exertion. He couldn't believe it—he'd actually landed a solid hit! For a moment, he almost smiled.

Almost. Because in the next heartbeat, every instinct in his body screamed at him to capitalize on his brief advantage. Kasumi was down. Vulnerable. Defenseless.

Ivan knew exactly what he had to do. What he needed to do to win, to survive.
He dropped onto Kasumi's back, straddling her waist. One hand fisted in her hair, yanking her head back sharply as the other arm snaked around her throat in a crushing chokehold.

"You're right, I ain't done yet," Ivan growled, his hot breath ghosting across Kasumi's ear. "And I ain't gonna stop until you're begging for mercy. Or unconscious. Whichever comes first."

With a grunt of effort, Ivan rose to his feet, dragging Kasumi up with him by her throat. Her eyes bulged, face turning red as he held her aloft.

For a moment, he simply glared down at her, relishing her helplessness. Then, with a wordless snarl, he lifted her higher and slammed her back down onto the mat with all his strength in a Choke slam.

[Ichi]

     A weight dropped itself onto Kasumi's back, sending her lasciviously propped form flat to the mat with a thud. Fingers intertwined themselves in her hair and yanked, prompting her scalp to scream out. A firm arm wrapped around her neck, drawing her body like a bow and denying her easy breath. She raised a shaky hand, fingers grasping at the choking appendage—but to no avail. Her fingers could find no purchase, and her arm could muster no strength.
     "You're right, I ain't done yet," growled a voice in her ear. "And I ain't gonna stop until you're begging for mercy. Or unconscious. Whichever comes first."
     "Fuck you," hissed Kasumi through clenched teeth. She wanted to say more, but the increased pressure from being dragged to a standing position via the chokehold precluded that. Pulsatile thumping impinged on her hearing, with each pounding heartbeat ratcheting up the pressure she felt in her head. The strangulation evoked a primal fear in Kasumi, prompting her arms to come to life. Now two in number, her hands tried to pry the strangling limb off her neck. In that moment, all of her focus was on trying to restore circulation—even at the expense of defending against other threats.
     It was not until halfway down that Kasumi realized that she had other problems. But, by then it was too late to put out any limbs to mitigate the impact. All Kasumi could manage was to flinch.
     The sharp crack of shattering glass rang out in tandem with the thud of the broader impact. Her head jolted as the bones in her face and the frame of her glasses recoiled against the mat. Whiteness momentarily flashed across her vision, only to be replaced with near darkness. Stars danced across her vision, as did sensations of glass against her eyelids. Her mind had lost its coordination. Fear and instinct took over, sending her heart into overdrive and prompting the formerly bespectacled beauty to claw at the mat ahead of her in order to create distance. And, even through addled conscious thought, Kasumi knew to keep her eyes shut so as to not let any shards meet her eyes.