W-702 "The Last Word"
Gallery size: 200 Full HD pictures
Mixed wrestling, 200 pictures 1920x1080 (FullHD), no nudity, no blood.
Antagonisms and clashes are a part of living and working. Usually they can be resolved peacefully, or at least repressed under a cloak of politeness. But there are times when it seems as if the only way to settle an issue is with a fight. This was the situation at a humdrum company between the heads of two departments, Betty-Ann and Johnny.
There was a tradition of rivalry between Accounts (Betty-Ann), and Sales (Johnny). But what sharpened the rivalry into outright hostility was a personality clash between the two. Once a month the general manager, Robert, held a heads of department meeting, and ever since he had had these two in charge of the respective departments, the meeting had ended in a row between them.
The last meeting had been so bad, with accusations flying around, that Robert dismissed the other department heads, but kept Betty-Ann and Johnny back. When the door closed behind the last person to leave, Robert sighed, looked at each of them in turn, and then spoke:
"This poison between you has got to end, otherwise you will both have to go. It’s infuriating, because you’re both good at your jobs, and keep good departments. I know there’s always been a rivalry between Accounts and Sales – and a bit of rivalry is healthy – but the gulf between you is damaging the company. If you were both men, I’d say settle it in the car park when everyone else has gone home, but as it is …"
"I’d be happy to settle it that way," Betty-Ann suggested quietly, "only not in a car park. I can book the ring in the gym that I use for an hour’s private session."
"Fine by me," Johnny added.
"All right then," concluded Robert. "Off you go, sort it out, and whatever happens, I don’t want to know about it."
"Remember Johnny," Betty-Ann told him as they faced off in the ring, "there’s no ref. Anything goes. Let’s see how much of a man you really are."
"Show me what you’ve got," Johnny replied confidently. "I’m more than man enough for you!"
They both wanted to get on with it, rather than indulge in any more chat, and Betty-Ann fired a right kick. Johnny leant back out of harm’s way, so she tried a second one, high this time, which he again avoided.
Well she said anything goes, he thought, as she repeated the duo of kicks. He leant under the anticipated second high kick, and it left her most vulnerable to an "anything goes" sort of strike. Crouching, he punched. He couldn’t miss, and Betty-Ann gasped in pain at this unexpected blow, at point-blank range, to her sex. She retreated in severe pain, while Johnny gloated, and mocked her. Furious, she punched; Johnny once again maddeningly avoided it, and exploited the momentum of her follow-through to force her down onto the canvas.
She turned up to face him, fearing an attack while she was still prone. Instead he chose to try and break her psychologically. Plus it felt good to strut and swagger a bit – and why not? From his point of view he’d not only parried her strikes successfully, he had used them against her, turning defence into attack.
On the other hand, it bought Betty-Ann time. The intensity of her pain began to wear off, and she started to collect her thoughts after the shock of being "downed" so early on. Early success had made him over-confident, she could see, and he committed a grave mistake by turning away and not even bothering to watch her. She lunged with her left foot and caught him behind his right knee. The blow came like a bullet, and he stumbled, struggling to stay on his feet. She sandwiched his wounded leg between her legs, and with an easy flick, had him over.
With commendable resilience, Johnny was on his hands and knees immediately – but Betty-Ann had the initiative, and she sprang on him, inflicting a sort of kneeling sleeper. However, it was a precarious hold in that position, and he elbowed her off. Yet for a second time she managed to forestall his recovery, this time with her knee to his stomach as he attempted to pin her.
As he tumbled backwards, she seized his right arm, and sliced it between her legs into an armbar, at the same time imprisoning his throat under her left leg. She had him trapped, helpless; and he croaked as red-hot darts of pain shot from his shoulder to his fingertips. She notched up the pressure gradually, showing surprising strength as she stretched his arm to the limit of its endurance.
"Stop croaking, Johnny, it’s getting on my nerves," she told him, before violently changing the armbar to a twist, and putting her free hand over his mouth. He attempted to bite it, but couldn’t do it effectively against its power. But it did force her to relinquish her hold, and he swung them both 180 degrees to attempt a pin for a second time. But Betty-Ann’s knee banging upwards into his chest scotched that plan. As he shot away, head first, she helped him in that direction with her foot ploughing into his balls.
Johnny sprawled on his front, and she was on him instantly. She whipped him over onto his back, grabbed both his ankles, and placed her right foot menacingly on his balls. She tormented and tortured him with that foot, making him cry out in fear as much as pain. Then she suddenly leapt forward to kneel on his left shoulder with her right leg, while she rammed her left knee into his balls, while snatching his right wrist in the strong grip of her left hand.
"Stop yelling Johnny," Betty-Ann gloated, "someone might think there’s full crowd in here and want to buy a ticket. It’s only a dainty knee, after all."
The trouble was, like Johnny earlier, she sacrificed tactical advantage for psychological combat (or taking the piss, in layman’s terms). She lost concentration, and Johnny sensed it. He couldn’t do much, from his prone position underneath her, but he managed enough to jolt her unpleasantly back to the reality that he was far from defeated. But first, he roared even louder, which made her laugh. He felt her grips loosen at her amusement, and with a mighty heave, had her up and over, and brought her down painfully in a piledriver. If he’d managed it from standing, it could have won him the match; as it was, it negated all Betty-Ann’s hard work so far.
She struggled onto her knees and saw that he had got to his feet. He toyed with her, keeping her guessing. He threatened to leap on her; he feinted a punch. Nearer and nearer he got, relishing the superiority that had hitherto been hers. He got closer to the kneeling woman, playing with her. She was just where he wanted her, so he moved in for the kill … and a shocker of a punch landed smack on his manhood. He froze on the spot, as extreme pain flowed in arrows from his groin as far as his earlobes and toes.
"Here’s a little poem for you," Betty-Ann began, confident once again. "And now I’ll watch you fall when I punch you in the … BALLS!" (Even if it was a kick that actually brought Johnny down, clutching himself in the foetal position.)
Both Betty-Ann and Johnny were so consumed by their dislike for the other person that they repeatedly allowed their feelings to hamper their judgement. So Betty-Ann now wallowed in her success, to the extent that she strayed dangerously close to Johnny, assuming he was finished, without making certain. She paid the price. He clutched at her right leg with both hands, pulled with the strength of vengeance, and had her on her back. The pendulum swung yet again in what would have been a fascinating contest for an audience.
He held her now by her left ankle, and proceeded to drag her around the ring, relishing his dominance over her. Having entertained himself in this way, he lifted her up by the ankle and swung her. Further and further he projected her, backwards and forwards, to her protests. He laughed as she implored him to stop. He propelled her to the limit in front of him, then heaved her back for the recoil – and she tipped herself up and over to shoot down over his right shoulder and make a grab for his balls. She crunched them in her powerful right hand, and he collapsed, howling.
Betty-Ann didn’t let up. She manipulated with her right hand, and clenched her left ominously into a fist. Sitting on him now, she let him have it square on the chin. Johnny’s teeth clanged together, and his head sprang back, as much as the canvas beneath him would allow, in response to her punch.
"What’s the matter Johnny, have you never been punched in the face by a woman before?" she taunted, as she hammered her right fist into his jaw.
With a herculean effort, Johnny locked his legs around the small of her back, gripped her neck with his left arm, and rocked suddenly forward. The momentum brought him to his feet, and he improvised a dragon suplex, with Betty-Ann falling head and shoulders first onto the canvas, over his chest.
While she struggled to get up quickly enough to react, a kick from Johnny sent her hurtling into the ropes. Seeing his opponent floundering, he charged after her, driving his knee where it could do most damage.
"You like poems?" he crowed in his triumph. "Here’s one for you: ‘I cut you down to size with a shot between your thighs!’ Oh, it’s great having the last word!"
Betty-Ann collapsed onto the canvas, in an echo of Johnny’s earlier demise, nursing her injury. He mimicked her distress and knelt down, wallowing in his revenge. He got closer, sarcastically asking her where exactly the pain was - and her right foot caught his chin. Stunned and shocked, he fell backwards and saw her spring up, full of fight once more. He jumped up, and they both glared at each other, circling warily.
He kicked, but she anticipated it, leaning back out of danger. As he followed through, she responded with a solid kick behind his left knee. He tottered perilously, so she repeated the stroke behind his other, already injured, knee.
He would have fallen, but Betty-Ann grasped his arms from behind, crossing them over, and thrust her right knee into his back, pulling him into her in a variation of a backbreaker. He struggled to control himself, but couldn’t help crying out in pain, and it encouraged her to drive her knee, and tug his arms, ever harder.
At last she let him go; but only to kick him upwards into his groin from behind. He sank down onto the canvas, once more clutching his injury, and Betty-Ann imitated him in the same way that he had done her earlier. She knelt behind him and asked where, exactly, the pain was.
Furious, Johnny swept round, and used the movement to knock her off her perch. He knelt above her, working to pin her; but she reacted with lightning speed, and fired her knee into his balls, while she wrenched him towards her by his wrist, intensifying the destructive effect of her knee.
Once again, Johnny roared in agony. He didn’t notice her relinquish the hold on his wrist, but he was aware of her drawing her knee back. Too late, though, did her understand why. She thrust hugely with both legs, and Johnny was dispatched into the air, "looping the loop" and landing on his back.
"No!" he shouted, struggling up. No more!"
He ran towards the ropes to escape, and with a shout of triumph, Betty-Ann ran after him. But it was the ancient military tactic of the "feigned retreat". With his hands on the ropes, Johnny back-kicked, and caught her powerfully on the chin.
Betty-Ann stumbled, but recovered and glared at the grinning Johnny. He moved in, but once again she correctly guessed his intention: a bear hug. She warded it off, forcing his arms outwards, moved in close, and drove her left knee into his balls. Johnny’s mouth opened in silent agony, while she grabbed his left wrist, pulled him towards her, and repeated the strike with her knee, bringing her left elbow down hard on his neck for good measure.
She allowed him to fall, but kept hold of his left wrist, and yanked it into an arm twist. Johnny swore and shouted in renewed agony. Then she tortured him by manipulating his fingers, forcing them into hideous, cracking, angles. She knelt above him, but now there was no time wasted in mockery. She wanted to finish the fight now, and seal her victory, so she cruelly kept up the grotesque twists on his arm, eliciting more shrieks of pain from him.
Johnny brought his "free" hand up, lowered it, and tapped. With a shout of triumph, Betty-Ann stood over him and placed her foot on his head, before relenting. As often happens in victory, the victor finds an unexpected sympathy with a defeated opponent.
"I’m sorry, Johnny," she said, helping him up. "We shouldn’t always be at loggerheads, and we ought to have resolved things between us without fighting."
"That’s all right," he told her. "You fought well, and won. We can be friends now."
"Ahhhhh," she responded inviting an embrace. He accepted, and they held each other in reconciliation; until, that is, he brought his knee up hard into her sex.
"Ha, ha!" he gloated as she recoiled in unexpected pain. "You said anything goes, remember?"
"You’re right, I did," she replied struggling to concentrate in her distress. "And you used dirty tactics very cleverly, I have to say. Come on, no more fighting, eh?"
"Ok," he consented. They embraced, and kissed this time; until, that is, the woman’s knee was thrust into his balls one last time.
Johnny dropped down onto the canvas, his glasses moist with tears. Betty-Ann sat on his face, grabbed his balls, and raised her other hand in final victory celebration.
"You know Johnny," she told him, gasping at the thrill of his tongue, "for once I agree with you."
He was too far gone to respond, so she continued. "It is satisfying to have the last word, as you said earlier. So here we go:
"There is a young man from the Sales, who fancies his chances but fails. Try as he might, he loses the fight, and the female accountant prevails."