Layla McCarthy vs Lynette de Villiers

Layla did indeed squeal as the legs tightened around her throat, kicking her short legs in a panic as more precious oxygen was denied to her. Her hands pawed at Lynette's legs in a vain attempt to dislodge them, but they were already locked tight around her neck. Strength wouldn't get her out of this one, not that she had much to spare.

The saller girl growled glared at Lynette where she could, gritting her teeth when she was insulted. She didn't speak French, but she could guess at what Lynette had just called her. It redoubled her efforts to get free, and she struggled and flailed like a caged animal in Lynette's clutches. The little girl had a surprising amount of energy. Unfortunately, even with this fire, Lala could not break free if the scissors.

That is until she would open her mouth, and sink her teeth as hard as she could into the inside of Lynette's thigh!

Every thrash and wild flail that burst forth from the diminuitive Layla McCarthy delighted the imperial woman, because it seemed futile, but even Lynette had to concede (silently, of course) that Layla's insistence and force of will in the face of defeat was admirable.

That was, until her wretched little jaws clamped down on the inside of Lynette's leg. Deep blue eyes widened a split second before she cried out with stunned anger. Instinctively, Lynette tried to perservere the bite, and her legs tensed and tightened reflexively to the pain once more in a most excruciating way, before the moment past and Lynette refused to suffer being bitten by such a rotten little monster any more. Those long, smooth legs finally abandoned their stranglehold around Layla's throat, and Lynette could feel the teeth marks throbbing upon her ivory skin.

"You filthy little--" Lynette didn't even wait to finish her curse. Though her legs had been pulled safely out of Layla's biting range, the disgraceful tactic had only pushed the french woman to hurt Layla again, and as soon as possible. Leaning up onto her knees and over Layla, Lynette dropped a fist like a hammer towards Layla's face, hatred and wounded pride surfacing in her stiff, snarling expression.

Even though Layla had broken what surely would have been a match-ending submission and the tiny vagrant had bitten her, Lynette did take one positive thing out of the situation: Layla had told her that she wasn't afraid to cheat, or play dirty. Lynette took mental note; if those were the new 'rules,' Lynette would aspire to capitalize hard on them from here on out.

As soon as the legs left her throat Layla unclamped her teeth, and gasped for breath almost immediately. She rubbed her sore neck with a grimace. Even she had to admit that had been a close one. If she had stayed trapped like that for much longer Lynette would have surely picked up victory. What may have been called a dirty tactic had saved her. Fortunately Layla didn't believe that such a thing like dirty fighting existed. In her mind a fight was just a fight, and how you achieved victory didn't matter.

Coughing a little as she rubbed her neck, Layla opened her eyes to see Lynette's fist coming down like a meteor to her face. Layla's eyes widened, and she yelped in alarm, quickly rolling to the side before the punch hit her, leaving it to hit nothing but the mat, and she could only hope that might hurt her opponant some.

Rolling to a crouch, Layla immediately sprang forward with a righteous scream, aiming a hard tackle to Lynette while she was still crouched. If she managed that she would try to pin the taller woman beneath her, which would no doubt be a challenge, but once she managed it Lala would sneer down at Lynette, right before she would start bombarding her face with punches.

Lynette's fist found nothing but canvas, but thankfully, the haughty french woman wasn't so stupid as to hurt her hand just by missing a blow. As Layla rolled away, Lynette silently cursed the fact that the smaller woman was free again. She was like a wet snake; most dangerous when she could reel back and strike again.

Which, of course, is exactly what she did. While Lynette had expected Layla's counterattack to be swift and sharp, the debutante was still on her knees and simply didn't have the time to react properly to avoid Layla's desperate tackle. Lynette felt the force of the diminuitive fighter connect with her, her arms wrapping around her waist and successfully bringing her to the mat again. She fell flat on her back, hard, and for just a few dangerous seconds, had the wind knocked out of her.

Gasping for breath, Lynette writhed beneath Layla, whom had straddled her in a sitting pin, and looked up just in time to see the fist of her opponent dropping down onto her. The first one fell squarely onto her temple, and a flash of white pain followed. Screeching, enraged, Lynette threw her arms up to protect her face until she found breath again, more and more blows raining down towards her head.

Forcing herself to calm down, the french woman endured the punches until at last she made her move. Edging her knees upward, Lynette gave out a cry of exertion, and lifted her hips up as forcefully as she could, while her hands simultaneously grasped hard onto Layla's shoulders, intent to throw the little spitfire headfirst over her head and off of her. Layla was fierce, but surely with the sizable difference between the two combatants, she couldn't maintain the high ground for too long...and as small as she was, Lynette would treat her like a ragdoll at every opportunity.

Layla had a grin on her face as she rained punches down on Lynette's head. SHe wanted to see how haughty the woman was after her beautiful face had been reduced to a bloody pulp.

Unortunately Lynette was more repared than she thought, and in the middle of her punching spree her shoulders were grasped. She blinked in confusion, and then gasped in surprise as she was suddenly bucked off of Lynette. Layla fell forwards with a grunt, and quickly scrambled to a kneeling position. The little fighter knew she couldn't give Lynette even a moments rest, or else she might find herself in another standoff, where Layla would no doubt have quite the disadvantage.

Now that she was behind Lynette, Layla would quickly scramble up to her. If Lyette tried to sit up, Layla would wrap one of her arms around Leynette's throat, and used the other arm to brace against the back of her opponant's head, placing Lynette in an expertly applied sleeperhold.

With the little parasite finally off of her, Lynette tended to her face, her cheek and head throbbing from where the barbaric girl's fist hand struck her repeatedly. Thankfully, there was no blood. However, this vain inspection of her visage, however brief, was costly. Just as she was beginning to turn and rise, she felt an iron hold close tightly over her throat, and Lynette found herself locked in yet another submission, this time a sleeperhold.

"Unh!" A coughing growl that sounded more like a distressed pout escaped her lips as her arms flailed to try to wriggle out of it, and when that failed, she tried to reach behind her to grab at Layla's sneaky positioning. Her eyes widened as less and less oxygen would be drawn from each determined gasp, and she began to feel the first prickles of the sleephold's effect.

If she had enough breath, she would have called Layla a fine myriad of choice french phrases, but at the moment, the more crucial priority was escaping. If she didn't force Layla to release her, she wouldn't even have the option to submit; she'd be out cold!

Layla snickered, finally getting a good hold on Lynette, one that also shut her up. It was win-win in Layla's opinion. Slowly tightening her choke, Layla brought her lips close to Lynette's ear to whisper into. "Don't worry," she hissed. "It's too early to knock you out now. I'm just making you look stupid."

Leaning back Layla would rest her ack against the mat, and while maintaining the sleeper would quickly wrap her short legs around Lynette's waist, adding a bodyscissors to the mix. If all went well Layla would be latched onto her French foe like a parasite, and no amount of struggling would get her off very easily.

Lynette's face burned, both from the continuing difficulty to breath, and the swelling anger as Layla's mockery drifted into her ear. Her words sounded distant, despite her lips being right beside Lynette's ear, like an insult called out from the other end of a long tunnel. Unable to even find enough breath to hiss back at the little leech, the distressed madamoiselle thrashed even harder, using her body to tell Layla exactly what she thought the the situation. She certainly wouldn't make the submission hold easy for Layla to keep pressing, though breaking the sleeper, and the additional bodyscissors, always seemed just out of her reach.

Lynette's eyes began to water as she coughed pitifully, and knew that even if Layla actually did release her as she smugly claimed, this stranglehold would drain her nearly to the point of exhaustion, virtually rending her half-helpless to Layla's whims. Gritting her teeth, her vision swimming, the french woman put all of her focus into her next few motions.

During one of her regular thrashing-tantrums, Lynette forced herself to roll onto her stomach, with Layla still locked on top of her back. Then, babystep by babystep, Lynette would attempt to lift her herself onto her knees, taking Layla's full weight onto her back and at least getting the tiny monster off of the ground. Trembling, she's subsequently would aim to rise to her feet, second by second, with a few distinctive pauses sprinkled over this effort just to reinforce her own consciousness, and mentally scream at herself to stay awake and keep trying. If she could just get onto her feet...

No matter how much Lynette struggled Layla held on to her like a vice, and the little fighter knew that her foe was only tiring herself out more. For every thrashing she made it only brought her closer to exhaustion. And then she'd be at Layla's mercy. And that thought made a smile spread across Layla's face.

Then, to her shock, Lynette turned onto her front, essentially bringing Layla with her. He eyes then widened when Lynette started to rise, first to her hands and knees, brining Layla along for the ride. The smaller woman knew enough of what Lyette was trying to do. SHe had to put a stop to it!

Clenching her teeth, Layla's arms pulsed with power around Lynette's throat, and her legs squeezed ever tighter around her waist. She was now choking Lynette her hardest, and hoping the further denial of air would bring Lynette right back down again.

The effort was excruciating. Even once she had gotten onto her hands and knees, the going did not get any easier for the distressed European girl, the wrestler clinging to her back and trying to strangle the life out of her refusing to abandon the double-submission hold. Her lungs burned simultaneously from the sleeper and the vice-like leg scissors, but in the rapidly-shrinking but still vivid part of her conscious mind, she repeated her mantra over and over: Never lose...never lose...never lose!

Pushing through the dizziness and the panic-inducing lack of oxygen, Lynette finally rose to one knee...and then, teetering and coming dangerously close to spilling to the mat once more, at last wobbled into a standing position, and stumbled forward to hold herself up on the ropes. The resilient french woman grit her teeth, and knew she'd have only one attempt to break the hold as painfully as possible. The moment was now!

Moving with as much haste as she could dare without passing out, Lynette used the ropes to support her, making a short, trembling trip to the corner turnbuckle. Then, with a surprising last burst of desperate strength, she threw her feet up onto the bottom-rope turnbuckle, and pushed off backwards, sailing as high and as far back as she could manage, leaning back and letting her body fall so that she'd hit the mat right on the back of her shoulders.

Or at least, if she didn't have a cruel little monkey on her back, she'd land on her shoulders. Instead, Layla's head would suffice as a servicable buffer. If this motion of desperation succeeded, not only would Layla's head strike the floor, the full weight of Lynette's body would fall upon it as well. If Layla was so stubborn and hung on to the hold to carry her to victory, then Lynette would deliver her a fiendish head injury as a lasting farewell legacy!