Jiao Jocelyn vs. Iggy Skelly: Clash of Tigers

"Oh fuck sake, m'lady..."

Jocelyn started prying with her leg and whining for Iggy to get off her--and here with Iggy just about nauseous from that hit and in no real position to do much because she hadn't a clue what to do in the tangled-up Roley-poly of a ground-game, where they lay grabbing and grasping and groping like some kind of awkward first-timer. It was almost exasperating.

"...Calm your tits..."

When Jocelyn offered her free leg so readily to Iggy's chest, she'd try to grab it with her free arm; then she'd have both legs under her pits. If that didn't work, though, Joc's angle was such that she'd probably pull free.

"My tits are calm, twat!" Jocelyn growled as Iggy grabbed hold of both her legs, the Chistralian put in a predicament of her own making. It was a bad place to be too, and she tried to do her best to remain calm. Maybe she could make Iggy lose her train of thought.

"You're never gonna be able to punch my face off with out hands, manker." She said, smiling as she tried to jerk her legs forward and awkwardly swing a balled fist at Iggy's head.

So--all this time and all Jocelyn could do was throw a punch that missed, which would have been little more than a bop-of-the-nez if it had hit from that angle. She was a tricky one, Joc, but maybe she wasn't a wrestler.

Of course what Iggy wanted to do was to stand up and start spinning until Jocelyn's lovely insides started to clog her think-piece. But she was exhausted--and that would take some what-one'd-call cardio.

Even Iggy had some vague idea of this move you'd always see on posters about wrestling, that you'd see AFW guys constantly clinch in. The Boston Crab seemed to rise up--almost to an unwilling user--as the obvious choice, an almost necessitated choice under the circumstanced. It was like finding the girl's arm lying on your chest without taking an armbar. Except Iggy didn't know how to execute an armbar, or--for that matter--a boston crab. All she had was that foggy image-in-the-think-piece of guys performing it.

So she'd stand and...try to flip Jocelyn onto her chest and to bend her back. Of course, she was liable to do it wrong and set her free or some such--and if she somehow got it right, she was equally liable to vastly underestimate her leverage and rather overdo it.

Jocelyn found herself in a pickle when both her legs were nestled snugly under Iggy's arms. She pumped her legs like a bicycle but could feel the hesiation in Iggy's body. This was OBVIOUSLY a spot to put someone in a Boston crab but even as Iggy slowly turned Jocelyn over, the Chistralian could feel.... hesitation?

Still, the crab was slowly completed and Jocelyn's eyes widened as pain encompassed her lower back. "Rggggh!" She growled as she slapped her palms flat against the mat and tried to pulled her body forward and inch it towards the ropes.

The lower Iggy sank into this press, the finer she felt she could steer this lean small girl about. It was no mean striking position--she couldn't draw any blood or bruise any cheeks. But God, she could make Jocelyn struggle and groan.

She sank down, grinning all cruel and satisfied and oblivious to the way they crept towards the ropes.

"Where's the slinky dancing way out of this, eh, Chinalady? Or has the little mousey of a girl got herself caught in a spot she no-ways can crawl out from?" Iggy gave her uncertain hold on Jocelyn another tug she figured would further torture the back. "Nyah. This isn't the end for ya, miss, now, is it? Please--tell me you're better 'n that, eh?"

"gaah-huh!" Jocelyn stopped when she felt Iggy's butt on her back. She could feel it, the way the punk put her in the hold was like a child trying out a new toy. Still, she was doing good enough to put the Chistralian in a good amount of hurt. And yet, not quite good enough to keep Jocelyn from advancing towards the ropes.

"Stop... fucking calling me... Chinalady..." Jocelyn spat as Iggy taunted her. Jocelyn's cheeks were rosy red and not because of how Iggy was working her. To be truthful, she adored the epithet immensely. it couldn't have been more perfect. That was part of the problem. Even when Jocelyn found something she liked, she hated it. Especially so for things she liked.

She wasn't going to waste any more words on Iggy though. She had some actions left and that was reaching out and grabbing the ropes tightly, holding onto it like they would pull her out of the depths of a thrashing deep sea.

The ref stepped in immediately to inform Iggy that it was time to let up and that she had five seconds to do it, starting with the count of one.

Oh. Well. Alright, if the Referee absolutely insisted, Iggy guessed she was OK with dropping Jocelyn. Nah, really: she was just fine, thanks. Hurting Jocelyn was fun, but she could torture rats on her own time. She was here to knock people who knocked back--and Joc was damned good at that.

"Alright you! Let's get fuckin' real, ey?"

Iggy was bruised. Her clothes were bloodied, one of her eyes was swollen so badly she could hardly shut it, and--if the honest-to-god truth were told--her back was pretty sore from when she'd been tossed overhead earlier.

So of course, there was only one thing to do. With Jocelyn still gasping on the ground, Iggy lowered her head and charged full-stop with her elbow forward, aiming to tackle her opponent before she'd even gotten back on her feet.

Jocelyn's head sank to the ground when Iggy was forced to step away. She pressed her cheek against the mat and panted as she looked at Iggy out of the corner of her eye. She'd fucked up the punk brat good but she was feeling quite sore herself. She watched as Iggy got into that ridiculous charging position and held onto the ropes. She tried to pull herself forward with all her strength, hoping she could yank herself right out of the ring before Iggy crashed back into her.

She wasn't even sure if if she could manage THAT because of how quickly Iggy came at her. If the girl wasn't even going to let her stand back up then what? At least she might be able to mitigate some of the damage though if Iggy DID hit her.

Iggy slammed into the ropes while her faster opponent slipped off like a fly dodging spider-web strands. Now, Iggy was getting real fed up with this slippery style. It was a show to watch, sure, and real pretty-like. But if she set up one more power-center of an attack just to grab at water, her grin wasn't going to survive it. This was just too disappointing.

Not that she had any problem deciding what to do. As soon as she saw where Joc was going, she decided to follow: she grabbed the middle rope, slipped over the bottom rope, and tried to follow her opponent with a two-legged dropkick towards the tile floor.

Jocelyn pulled herself and flopped to the ground outside the ring just to hear Iggy barely miss her. She rolled onto her feet and watched Iggy smirk down at her. Her spiky hair shook ever so slightly. "Fuckin cunt licker." She spat through lips that twitched at a sly smirk of her own as Iggy vaulted. over the ropes and slammed her feet into the Chistralian's stomach, driving her back into the barricade with a loud thump.

Jocelyn winced as she cradled her petite chest and panted, staring at Iggy. "Wanker." She spat. "Shite eatin gutser." She continued to spew epithets at Iggy even as the referee began to count now that both girls were outside the ring. Still, even though there was pain on her face, there was a gleam in her almond eyes.