Storm Macintosh vs Lillian Byrne

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A clothesline wasn’t the flashiest of moves in a wrestler’s arsenal, but Storm still found it especially satisfying to hit, especially when placed hard and with momentum, as she did now with the hapless Lillian, forced to run straight into Storm’s swinging, muscular arm.

The pink-clad woman’s crash to the mat confirmed the power in the blow. Storm watched with a wicked grin as Lillian lay there groaning, barely able to move beyond massaging her bruised chest.

“Time for some real pain,” the Scot said to herself, sauntering over to Lillian and grabbing one of her legs before she could react. Storm stepped over the raised limb, twisting it in on itself, before snatching Lillian’s other leg and falling to the mat to apply a figure four.

Storm was largely known as a heavyweight power merchant, but as a seasoned wrestler, her submissions game was no joke either. She used her legs to torture Lillian’s own, darkly curious to see how the other woman would deal with the change of pace.

“Still feeling good about sticking your neck out for strangers?” Storm needled, smiling coldly as she worked the hold.

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For as good as the match had started, Lillian’s current view of the countless lights up above on the ceiling of the arena was a testament as to just how fast the tides had turned against her. Now Storm was in charge, and after battering Lillian back down the canvas, the heavyweight didn’t seem like she planned on wasting the opportunity, as the former champion struggled to catch her breath. Lillian only became aware of Storm’s presence when a shadow descended over her, and it wasn’t until she tipped her head up slightly to see what Storm was doing did she see the Scotswoman grabbing hold of her legs, twisting one inwards and atop the other, Storm’s legs threaded through as she dropped down into a hold that Lillian recognized too late to stop, the figure four leglock!

“Aaaaahhh! Aaagh!” Lillian’s scream resounded throughout the arena as Storm settled into the hold, a brutal pain shooting through her lower body the bigger woman slowly applied pressure, changing from hard hitting exchanges to a slow submission! Lillian’s back arched and her fingers dug into the canvas beside her, but fortunately for the champion, she had a way forwards, something well known among basically any wrestler worth their salt.

“I feel… better… than you’re going to!” Lillian hissed through gritted teeth at Storm, before slamming a fist on the mat to her side, and bringing her other arm up to help twist her body, looking to use all of her weight and strength against her foe. Storm was a big woman, no doubt, but it wouldn’t stop Lillian from attempting to force the pair over to their sides, and then further onto their stomachs, as she looked to flip them over completely and reverse the figure four, turning Storm’s own submission against her!

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Despite her burgeoning heel credentials, Storm was yet to habitually think of herself as an outright sadist. Nevertheless, the sound of Lillian screaming in the figure four leglock brought a cold, mirthless smile to the Scotswoman’s face. Maybe it was the satisfaction of a move well executed, or the feeling of getting established in this important match, but Lillian’s very visual discomfort was a delight to behold! The crowd could certainly tell that the pink-clad girl was hurting, which made Storm all the more smug.

Her gloating was short-lived. She frowned in apprehension at Lillian’s defiant taunt, but then her eyes widened at the growing realisation of what her opponent was attempting.

“Hey, no, fuck you!” Storm snarled in alarm as Lillian began to twist to the side. A twinge of pain shot through the Scot’s leg as her control of the hold was challenged. Stubbornly, she tried to fight it, shifting her own weight in response, gritting her teeth at the agonising tension.

Her efforts were in vain. Lillian’s tenacity, strength and technique were a fearsome combination, and after a few painful and intense moments, there was a dramatic shift in the leg-based power struggle between the two women, and Storm found herself unceremoniously flipped onto her front!

“Ungh!” she grunted as she was dumped face down on the mat, but that indignity was soon eclipsed by the pain of Lillian working the fully-reversed hold.

“AGH!” Storm’s whole body spasmed as she suffered in the torturous lock. The humiliation of the reversal was almost as bad as the pain itself; Storm absolutely hated it when her own efforts were thrown back in her face. She’d felt in control, but now she was stuck and squirming as her legs were stretched.

She was really suffering here, fingers clenching, writhing on the mat as she tried to cope with being on the receiving end. Seconds passed and it became clear that she was getting it worse than Lillian did in the original hold. Storm’s features were creased in agony and anger; she badly needed an outlet.

Fortunately for the flailing Scot, the reversed hold had flopped her slightly closer to the ropes. Storm gritted her teeth, planted her elbows into the canvas, and began the excruciating task of dragging both her and Lillian that bit closer to the rope, leaving it tantalisingly within reach.

Storm felt like her legs were about to be snapped in two! She stretched, and brushed her fingers along the bottom rope, praying the ref would act quickly to enforce the rope break before the pain became too much for her.