Blaise Cameron vs Amy Poford- A Fresh Start

When Amy recovered and straightened up, she saw Blaise running at her, no doubt with something vicious in mind. Instinctively, she lifted her shoulders and hands up to guard the sides of her head. It was pure luck that Blaise hadn't gone in for the straight kick, which would have scored a direct hit on her face.

Still, Blaise had built up and poured a lot of momentum into that kick, and she'd only blocked with one arm. When the boot crashed into her guard, it still rattled her head some and caused her to stumble to the right.

Blaise feels his boot collide not with a face, but with Amy's guard. But he isn't complaining. He's giving it his best. And with how one-sided this match has been so far, it's starting to work the audience up. Amy's probably used to being viewed as the underdog in her matches, but against this particular opponent, she's been the juggernaut.

Amy staggers from the hit, and Blaise closes in on her. He hooks his unhurt arm around her neck to attempt pulling her into a forward headlock under his arm, pressing her shoulder into his chest. The teen swings his leg back, then snaps it forward, using the momentum to whip himself - and ideally Amy - back down to the mat to crash the top of her head to the mat in a snap DDT!

Amy didn't know what well Blaise was drawing his energy from, but, whatever it was, it was very deep. Amy still reeling from the kick, Blaise had no trouble securing her head in a headlock. Before she could mount a counter, Amy suddenly felt herself hurtling headfirst toward the mat. Amy stayed on the mat for a moment, rolling from side to side, and her hands cradling her aching head.

The move ends with Blaise lying flat on his back, panting, body glistening under the bright overhead lights. He's aware of Amy writhing beside him. It's his chance. He has to take it.

The teen rolls over and grabs for her wrists with the express purpose of just... lying on her. He tries to secure her arms down against the mat above her head, though one arm is considerably weaker than the other.

'Stay down... stay down...'

There, the teen will stay. His head rests on the mat beside hers, cheek to cheek, each ragged, labored breath washing against her ear and tussling her hair. His chest presses into her breasts, abs against her stomach, and hips directly over hers in a full-body pin. He can feel her heart pounding against his chest, his own thundering against her.

Amy was vulnerable and losing momentum, and so she prepared for the worst. While she nursed the aching in her head, Blaise sprung into action, crawling atop her body and pulling her hands up high over her head. Amy shut her eyes and grit her teeth, ready to steel herself against the strain in her... nowhere. Wait, what?

Amy opened her eyes again, confused. Nothing seemed to be hurting. Maybe Blaise had forgotten a step? But he wasn't making any sort of effort, just sort of... lying there. Or maybe this was a hentai move? They were pretty close together- she got chills from his heavy breathing across her ear,- and, in any other context, Amy may have found herself enthralled. But, I mean, he's a dancer. Any dancer worth his salt would know at least to move his hips a little. Amy was at a loss.

"Hey, you awake?"

One!

Oh, shit. Fuck, I am so stupid.

Amy pulled an arm free fairly easily thanks to the work she had done earlier in their match and lifted it high, breaking the count. Then she wrapped her legs around his midsection, trapping him in a scissor hold, while simultaneously pulling his head in under her left armpit. Finally, she started to pummel his midsection with her free arm.

Were Blaise able to think about anything other than just holding on for two more seconds, he might have given her more than just a little hip-shifting. She may have had a full-on body grind, much to the pleasure of the fans, without doubt. But he just can't think about anything else. He's hurting. He's giving this match everything he's got, and he's desperate to squeak out a win against all odds.

He feels her wrist slip away from his weak arm's grasp.

'Stay down, stay down-' The referee signals only a one-count! 'No!'

But Blaise has no time to do anything. His hips are looped by her legs, his head caught under her arm, and then she begins going to town on his toned midsection. "Ungf! Ghh!" His body shakes with each blow, his arms pinwheeling weakly in the air, pawing at her face, his fingers running through her hair. But he's trapped. He's thoroughly trapped. His knees bend against the mat and he tries to push himself against her to lessen himself as a target, but all it does is grind his hips between her parted legs. A thrill, perhaps, in any other context. But right now, he's being tenderized.

"Nng..." The arms slow down the longer the beating continues, until the teen is just helplessly taking it. He's still moving, each hit sending a fresh, fiery jolt of pain through his body. "Agh.. A-Amy..," he sputters. His fingertips rake against her ribs, the other hand trying weakly to grab at her hammering fist. His ability to fight back is gone. Every movement is painful. His core is destroyed. He's just hanging on. Defiant to the end.

Amy just kept at it, even as his arms slowed their resistance, even as he pleaded her name. She was through taking chances with Blaise. He may not have been the best fighter out there, but he'd proven time and time again that he wasn't going to go down until he was truly, thoroughly beaten. So she tightened her headlock and squeezed her scissors and drilled her hooks into his side as sharply as she could. She wasn't going to stop until his arms had stopped moving completely, and then she was going to make sure he was down for good.

She doesn't have to wait much longer. Blaise's raking fingers soon decrease to just pawing at her sides. The referee remains close to make sure he isn't tapping... but he isn't. Amy can feel his abs loosening around her fist the more she pounds into them, no longer able to even flex and protect himself.

His body is screaming in pain. His ribs and abs... he can't even consider getting up on his own now. He can barely breathe, the stress his body is going through combined with the headlock steadily ramping up his fatigue level. Finally, the teen goes limp in her arms.

The referee drops to look for a knockout, but his eyes are still open. His fingers still twitch. But he can't even muster the strength to push at her. He is her prey, unable to muster even a word. He can't even tap now. He lacks the energy, and one arm hurts too badly to even lift at this point.

Amy felt Blaise fall limp under her headlock, but she drilled him twice more just in case. And even then she didn't let go of the headlock until she checked in with the ref. The ref wasn't making any moves to stop the fight, so Amy sighed and let Blaise go, pushing him off of her onto his back so that she could get up.

Blaise looked beat. His breaths were short, even now, unrestricted by her holds. His torso looked like it would be completely back and blue for a while to come. His eyes, while open, didn't seem to be focused on anything in particular; they were almost empty. But she'd gone for the pin once before when he looked to be down and out, and she'd had a rude awakening then. She had to finish things right. Panting, Amy straddled Blaise's chest and began to talk.

"This is my finisher. I don’t have my own name for it, but I doubt I could do much better than 'ground and pound' anyway, so...yeah. Goodnight, Blaise." Before she began though, Amy was seized by a strange urge. She didn't know where it came from, but it lifted her index finger and tapped it gently on the tip of Blaise's nose.

Boop.

Barring any interruption, the blows would begin to rain down in earnest.

"Hnnf! Nng..."

He's rolled off of her at last.

Blaise lies sprawled on his back, his gaze distant and detached. His body hurts. A lot. She'd pummeled him hard, and by this point, he's willing to tap out to her. Tap out, pin, whatever. He's lost. The audience is thrilled at the sight of total domination, the bunch of wishy-washies.

When Amy straddles his chest though, his gaze does focus; specifically on her eyes. He doesn't speak - just having her meager weight pressing over his torso is quite painful. But he looks at her solemnly, and just... breathes under her. Dread wells up in him when he realizes what she's about to do. The pain's not going to stop, is it?

Her hand cocks back and comes down, and Blaise flinches as much a battered guy can; one eye squeezes shut and his head turns a little. Nope. Booped. The eye opens again, confused, and they cross to look down at her finger on his nose.

'Huh...?'

And then the pounding begins. His body jolts with each hit, completely unable to defend himself. His eyes go dazed immediately, but the referee can't signal the end of the match until he either taps out or passes out. For whatever reason, his consciousness just seems to refuse to slip away! Punch after punch lands, uncontested, against the teen's face.

Only after a very considerable beating does his mind mercifully black out, face turned aside and body completely limp.