L.A.W. - League of Anime Wrestling

Calista kept her grip on Daisuke, her thighs pumping rhythmically and grunts leaving her throat as she maintained the scissorhold. Each flex and release sent ripples through her glistening muscles, the sheen of oil catching the light in hypnotic waves. She gritted her teeth against the little voice in her mind that tried to distract her, reminding her how uncomfortably close his face was to her most sensitive area, how his face looked buried down there. It was a distraction she couldn’t afford, and she shoved it aside with sheer willpower.

Her fingers dug into the mat as she steadied herself against his thrashing. Every tug, every desperate move he made to escape only deepened her resolve. When his hand snaked up and yanked at her hair, she hissed, her voice sharp and commanding:

"Let go!"

With a ferocious pulse of her legs, she forced his struggles to falter. Calista’s thighs tightened like coiled steel, and his grip on her hair faltered before slipping away entirely. The tension between them shifted, his body growing heavier as his resistance slowed. Her breath hitched as realization struck. She could knock him out. She could push him past the breaking point and leave him slumped, defeated, and unconscious. The thought lingered, tantalizing her, filling her with a rush of vindication.

But something inside her held back. The deal was for a submission, not total obliteration. She wasn’t a brute. And truthfully, the idea of hearing him admit defeat, of hearing him say she was better, was just as satisfying. Perhaps even more.

Calista finally exhaled a shaky breath and adjusted her position. Her toned body eased just enough for her thighs to release the death grip they had on his head. The sound of her slick skin peeling from his oiled face filled the space with a sharp, wet smack. She carefully shifted his head so his chin rested squarely against her crotch, ensuring he could still breathe, and, more importantly, speak. She didn’t completely let up, though, keeping her thighs snug and firm enough to remind him who was in charge.

With her chest heaving, she looked down at him, her hazel eyes blazing.

"Say it," she demanded, her voice low but commanding. "Say you submit... and admit I’m the better wrestler."

She punctuated her words with another deliberate flex of her thighs, sending a clear message: he wasn’t getting out of this until she got exactly what she wanted.

It was clear from Daisuke's desperation tactics that he was in fact, desperate! Clawing, slapping on her thighs, looking to latch onto her hair and yank it, doing everything to try and make her release his head. Her thighs stuck to his face, engulfing them entirely to squeeze and smother him. With her hands free since her legs were doing all the work, Calista would simply reach out to grab his hands to thwart his efforts easily, as he was once again left struggling in the submission. After a while though, his struggles started to fade away and his body started to feel heavier- his breathing heavier too and it would appear that he was slipping into the realm of unconsciousness.

The Greek woman would not have it though, she wanted a verbal submission out of him as per the rules they agreed. His face being crushed by her legs and buried between her womanhood as there was no escape, until she relented and grabbed his head, forcing his chin against her crotch to make him look up towards her. "Hah....Hah...." he panted, not moving much as he was clearly defeated. She flexed her thighs to emphasize her words when she demanded him to give up, making him groan in pain.

He knew that pushing the matter further, would certainly mean a KO. "Enough. Hah.....Hah....I......I submit" he admitted. Calista did it, after a slow start to the match, she came back in a dominating fashion to overwhelm the prince and prove to her that she belonged here, more importantly- she proved that she was the better wrestler!

Calista didn’t want to admit it, not to herself and certainly not to anyone watching, but there was an undeniable erotic tension to the situation. As much as she disliked Daisuke’s attitude and the insults he’d hurled at her before the match, there was something inherently intimate about the scene. Two mostly naked bodies, glistening head to toe with oil, pressed against each other in a tangled, sweaty battle of wills. She had him trapped now, her thighs snug around his neck, her body radiating both exertion and control.

Under different circumstances, with someone who wasn’t so obnoxious, she might have found this intriguing, even exciting. But Daisuke's sharp words and inflated ego tempered any hint of amusement or curiosity she might have otherwise felt. And frankly, her body was sore and tired. She wanted this over. She wanted to hear him admit what she had been working so hard to prove, that she was better and victorious.

Her chest rose and fell steadily as she caught her breath, staring down at Daisuke's weary, oil-slicked face. He looked utterly drained, and for a moment, she felt a small pang of satisfaction. Then, at last, he gave her what she had been waiting for... or at least part of it.

Her lips curled into a smug smirk, satisfaction lighting up her face, but it wasn’t enough. The words he uttered were incomplete, lacking the full weight of what she wanted to hear. She relaxed her hold just enough to avoid actively squeezing, but her thighs remained firmly in place, holding him securely. Daisuke wasn’t going anywhere, not until she got exactly what she wanted.

Calista rested her hands on her stomach, thumbs lazily tapping on her abs, as if she had all the time in the world. She looked down at him with an air of calculated patience, her smirk lingering, and tilted her head slightly as if deep in thought. Then she spoke, her voice light but tinged with expectation.

“And?” she asked, her tone laced with deliberate emphasis, letting the word hang in the air. Her legs shifted slightly, not squeezing but reminding him of the power they still held. “What else do you need to say, Daisuke? I’m listening.”

Things were hot, sweaty and sticky now. The heat of the room, the sweat due to the wrestling and the sticky feeling thanks to the oil being dried up a bit and the two wrestling rather intensely and intimately. It was all over now though, Calista did the unthinkable and managed to defeat the wrestling prince after being one point down. Indeed, it wasn't too long ago that Daisuke was going to leave the match entirely after picking up one fall because he did not think she was good enough to wrestle him yet now, the tables had turned and she had made him submit twice in a row to pick up the win.

She knew she was in control, so it was time for some payback. Even with the submission, she would not release him from her leggy prison. Instead, she would shift her body around and keep his face close to her crotch, with her thighs still pressing his head but no longer squeezing. He had no strength to fight back and instead he simply laid there, muscles aching and body desperately needing some R&R. "Ugh.....screw you" he moaned trying to grab her thigh to try and escape but it was futile, she had him trapped and there was no escape. His legs kicked the mats a few time and he squirmed for a bit but he realized his face would be pressed against her crotch until he would admit what she wanted him to admit, there was no escape.

So...he finally did it. Tapping the mats once again in frustration. "UGH! You're the better wrestler......now let me go" he said, his pride shattered by a new comer who decimated him in oil.