A Friendly Wager

Glad she decided to keep her mouth shut. The stunner came right down on her jaw. If her tongue were in the way, it might have snapped in half. Letting go of her opponent’s arm, she’d kick her back and bounce back to make some distance between them.

Masuyo brought a hand up to her jaw, assessing the damage. Was that blood running down her mouth? Nope, just saliva. Okay, good. She hadn’t received her quickest bruise ever in a match. This woman certainly knew how to trade. Masuyo was getting the message loud and clear. She may be a manager, but she was no pushover.

“Hm, not bad, Miss. But you haven’t seen anything yet.”

Charging forward, Masuyo would go for a clothesline before making the feint, dropping down and wrapping her arms around the woman’s waist. If she made that, she’d be able to slam the woman onto the canvas before climbing onto her waist and pinning her down.

The stunner didn't knock Masuyo on her ass. If anything it just provoked her to act with even more force and precision. A harsh kick to her back sent Fubuki sprawling out on the mat. She used the momentum to roll to her feet, turning around to face her opponent.

That's when she saw the clothesline attempt, and tried to go under, when sh e realized that it was merely a feint. Her attempt left her midsection wide open to be speared into the canvas by the muscular woman, slamming her into the ring floor. Masuyo climbed up on her, attempting to pin her down. Fubuki wouldn't make it easy, struggling and bucking in her opponent's grasp.

Good, this woman was a squishy as she looked. That slam put her down pretty effectively and she was able to scramble on top of Fubuki with ease, pinning her arms against the canvas.

She was trying to buck her off, as expected, but Masuyo had the weight advantage. She kept the woman’s arms pinned against the mat, perfectly happy with taking in her vulnerable form. Still, this was a challenge and she had to see it through. This woman was expecting to be swept off her feet. Well, she was, but that probably wasn’t what she meant.

Deftly moving to the side, Masuyo would drop and attempt to wrap her steel thighs around the woman’s abdomen, crushing her in a body scissors. Reaching out for the woman’s arm, she’d grasp it firmly and pull it towards her, hoping to limit her resistance as much as she could. Giving a slight smirk, it would be a pleasant view, to say the least.

“You know, you look really good on your back. Might as well tap out. I don’t think I wanna let you up.”

Oh no.....she did NOT just say that.....ooooh the "post match evaluation was gonna be a rigorous one to be sure. Fubuki was already plotting how to get back at her. Though her current predicament was what troubled her the most.

Masuyo's iron thighs began crushing the life from her, and just as the manager reached for the ropes, the MMA fighter latched on, yanking her arm away from salvation to keep her in place. Despite the immense pain, Fubuki smirked at her opponent.

"S-sorry dear......not much of a tapper..." she said, lashing with her foot and just barely managing to get her foot on the bottom rope, signalling a rpe break, "You want this win, then you better make it a big finish for that pin. Otherwise I'm coming back and laying YOU out."

Masuyo let out a disappointed sigh when she saw Fubuki manage a rope break. She hoped to keep the woman down for a while and wear her out. Ah well. She had at least asserted herself for the time being.

Unhooking her legs from the alluring manager’s toned midsection, Masuyo rolled away from her and climbed back to her feet. Her opponent wasn’t deterred, it seemed. Fine. If she wanted more, she was going to get it. It was time to show a bit of her trademark aggressiveness. Bringing her fists up and dashing forward, Masuyo aimed to capitalize on the damage she had dealt.

Sending a kick into the woman’s side, she aimed to push her into the turnbuckle. If she managed that, she could start sending strike after strike into her gut, knocking out whatever energy had stored up in there. Didn’t want to hit that pretty face, though. She needed that in mint condition for the ‘evaluation’.

The moment Fubuki was released from that iron grip did the full extent of the damage make itself known to the manager. Her lungs were begging for air, and she found the simple act of getting up to be challenging. By the time her shaking legs managed to pick her up, a sharp kick knocked her into the corner.

Fubuki's back slammed into the pads, arms draped over the top rope. She saw Masuyo dart in, firing blow after blow into her midsection. Her body bucked and jerked with each punch. One blow sank into her gut, doubling her over. Saliva dripped from her open mouth, and the woman was left gasping for breath, weak at the knees from the barrage.

She was glad she decided against using the sandbag earlier. This was a million times more enjoyable. Not that she took pleasure in beating her opponent to a pulp, but she couldn’t deny appreciating the results of her hard training. Especially to someone who was asking for it. Hell, if she were a sadist, those pained expressions Fubuki was making would be getting her riled.

No time for that sort of thinking now, though. There was momentum to build, and pressure to keep up. Without missing a beat, Masuyo would clinch her arms around the dazed woman’s neck before turning around throwing her over her shoulder. Slamming her back into the mat, the Demon wouldn’t let up as she would quickly move to get the manager in a rear chokehold, applying more pressure with another bodyscissors from behind. If she could manage that, she’d grow a confident smirk on her face before whispering into her ear.

“I know you can’t have much air left in you. You should probably submit, or you’ll pass out. Don’t worry, just say ‘I submit’. I know you’re not much of a tapper, after all.”

Fubuki practically fell into Masuyo's arms, easily being picked up and slammed into the mat. Not content to leave it there, the MMA fighter locked in the choke hold. Fubuki's arms were jerking limply, before she choked out, "Pin...me.....please...." she begged, feelng her vision start to go dark.

What? That’s not what you say to get out of a hold, right? That’s not even what I told her to say.

If the referee didn’t hear those exact words, wouldn’t he not count it? Why was she asking to be pinned? Isn’t submitting the same thing? Question after question struck her until she realized one that made even a little bit of sense. Oh, was this some kind of test? Was the manager trying to size up just how smart she was? The woman was a scout after all. No doubt she saw her fair share of tough men and women both stronger and faster than her. But it was their wits that likely separated the wheat from the chaff in this circuit.

Well, Masuyo certainly wasn’t going to be caught in whatever trap she had planned. If she was going for a counter, she should have made it less obvious. She would pat herself on the back if her arms weren’t so bust. Cranking up the pressure, she leered and drew closer to the constricted manager.

“Huh? That wasn’t what I said. Go on. Say the words. You know them.”

It wasn't a trick, and wasn't a test. More of a personal preference, but she also wanted to see what she could do in terms of power. Plus, when she was a jobber, that was her favorite position to be in at the end of a match.

Opening her mouth, Fubuki groaned, "I.....I......"

At hat moment, her head slumped, a final sigh escaping her lips, out cold in her opponent's grip.