Eliza Harenwood vs Tomás Ferreira - Stride Forward

[Deus001]

When one faced the dancing passion in Britain it was common knowledge that one should never count her out, doubly so if you were going for a pin. As one could be positioned close to the legs of the savvy British aristocrat and all she'd need to do is simply wrap the noose around one's neck, then strangle them without them realising it until it was too late. Which Tomas was about to become promptly aware of for he had fallen into Eliza's clutches now!

Eliza's forehead dripped with sweat as she huffed to herself from the effort but knew that she had to press on, the hold was unique for sure and Tomas was clearly struggling as any would who found themselves pray to Eliza's powerful legs. The crowd were roaring in adulation as the dancing passion choked her formidable foe but Eliza wasn't going to lay idle here.

Gritting her teeth as she felt Tomas struggle for the ropes Eliza resolved on a gambit of sorts and would limber around with him, intent on trying to transfer to a full and proper headscissors. If Tomas was to struggle then the dancing passion was fully intent on making him drown in the ocean before he was able to, even if he escaped Eliza would make her mark on him!

[GoingBananas]

Just as Tomás thought he had gotten a full grasp of things here, it just continues to baffle him even further. He wasn’t sure what just happened, only that the current situation called for him to deal with the sapping effects of this... move that Eliza was pulling. How she could do that was something he truly could not expect, and it was frustrating. The world of wrestling proved to be a grand mystery, with every nuance throwing him for a loop.

Even the simple task of understanding this hold would unravel into an exhausting ordeal. And as the Portuguese man was struggling to reach towards the ropes, he also felt like he failed some intricate, invisible test. And though no one else would seem to notice, or even care, the weight of his confusion clung to him like a straightjacket that’s too heavy.

Either it’s the effects of the choke or his frustrations building within, Tomás was feeling more tired than he thought a person had any right to be. A slow-building fatigue made him question how everyone else navigated this world so effortlessly. Why did everything feel so complicated? Why did he, of all people, feel so relentlessly out of sync with the universe?

Just as he lamented, he found that his prison would suddenly double. Literally, in fact. With a swift, fluid motion, Eliza spun behind him, her dancer’s grace undeniable even in combat. Her legs, honed by years of pliés and pirouettes, flexed with both elegance and power as they wrapped around his neck in a complete headscissor. Tomás barely had time to register what had happened before the pressure mounted, the cords of muscle in her thighs tightening like iron bands.

The Dancing Passion's legs, long and sinewy, moved with a practiced precision, each flex and contraction deliberate. There was no wasted effort. The effortless control of a dancer’s body backed every ounce of strength. The muscles rippled beneath her skin, carved from countless hours of training, both in the studio and on the mat. Her thighs, sharp with definition, hooked against his shoulder, locking the hold in place as she leaned back slightly, controlling him with a casual ease.

He gasped for air, the vice-like grip only tightening as she adjusted her posture, pressing harder with a ballet-like poise. Her legs, though lithe, were deceptively strong, sculpted for endurance and power. It felt like escape was futile. What had once been a tool for artistic expression is now a weapon, and she wielded it effortlessly, her legs carrying the strength of years, all concentrated in that singular, seemingly inescapable hold.

Tomás felt the muscle straining, throbbing hard with his heartbeat as it ached for release. Just before he would reach the ropes, within inches, that tension finally released. He was still awake throughout the whole thing, but he felt that wave running through him, washing all over down to his shorts.

[Deus001]

Eliza was wringing out Tomas's neck, his windpipe and neck bones all in one measure! Making sure that he might be needing an x ray scan after all that tunnel trauma that the dancing passion was bringing to this kickboxer, Eliza was no sadist by any measure but she took great pleasure in displaying the prowess of her submission skills that featured the use of her iconic legs, with Tomas being her unwilling fabulous assistant much to the envy of all those in the arena!

The dancing passion panted quietly as she felt the fatigue of the match wash over her but her flame still burned brightly and Tomas was was Icarus having flown close to her sun. Eliza flexed and tensed her killer thighs and ankles as she sought to choke the living daylights out of her opponent, so caught up in all of this was Eliza that she was unaware of her opponent's actual location as the roar of the crowd enraptured her hearing.

"Do you yield Mr Tomas?! I'll accept a surrender if you wish to remain aware of yourself!" Eliza boldly proclaimed as an intense look was on her features!

[GoingBananas]

Eliza’s legs were proving to be a massive juxtaposition for the Portuguese Pugilist. The juxtaposition of lace and muscle, allure and control, created an unforgettable impression—her legs both captivating and formidable, wrapped in the beauty of black lace but unyielding in their grip.

Wrapped in elegant black lace stockings that hug every curve, from her toned thighs down to her calves, accentuating the shape and definition in her legs. Intricate, woven in delicate floral patterns that contrast against the smoothness of her skin underneath. Something packaged as elegantly flawless hidden the true strength of the aristocrat’s legs.

When she applies the headscissor hold, her legs display their full, commanding strength. Her thighs, firm yet soft under the lace, tighten around her opponent’s neck, the fabric stretching slightly to reveal the taught muscles beneath. For Tomás, the stockings added an unexpected sensation - a smooth, almost silky touch that contrasts with the undeniable of her squeeze. Each flex of Eliza’s muscles caused the lace to press even closer to her skin, empathizing with her control and the hypnotic appeal of her legs.

Even with this, and being brought to an unexpected, shuddering mess, Tomás heard the Dancing Passion’s call to yield. Considering the style of fighting he came from, surrendering was foreign to him. It’s not a literal action taught in Muay Thai to slap his hand against the mat, but every fight he’s been in resulted in a knockout. But what was universal in all martial arts was that the ropes can give a reprieve. He would barely get his ankle hooked on the bottom rope, the ashen-man getting there finally. Hopefully Eliza doesn’t notice what truly happened, as the referee would begin the count-out.

“1!”

[Deus001]

Eliza was convinced that she had Tomas here, this point in the match with him trapped between her powerful legs that had brought many a wrestler in Britain to the ER room and thensome. Eliza had flexed her killer quads and felt Tomas's fight get weaker by the second and the dancing passion was already imagining that she'd be getting flowers thrown to her by her fans in adulation for her impending victory.. That was until the ref started to count.

The Harenwood was so caught up in what she was doing that she had no clue that her opponent had actually managed to escape by prompting a rope break! Impossible.....It had to be, Eliza couldn't believe it at the very least as she hit the mat with her hand in sheer frustration and yelled "Damn it!" a rare sight indeed for the British aristocrat to show how enraged she was.

But she followed the rules of engagement and uncoiled her legs from the neck of Tomas, the noose was lifted and Eliza let out a sigh of annoyance as she slowly stood up wincing at the pain that soaked through every inch of her body from this match.....