Layla McCarthy vs Lynette de Villiers

Layla grit her teeth in determination as she pushed against Lynette. Her strength, while not great, was enough to keep Lynette at bay. For a few seconds at least. Soon Layla would start to be pushed bck by Lynette, the diffrence in size too much of a hurtle to overcome. The smaller fighter knew it was a bad idea to acceot the test of strength, but her foolish pride made her do it anyway. Her arms trembled with exrtion as she desperately tried to not be completely overcome. But soon, even that was not enough to hold Lynette back. Layla dropped down onto one knee, unable to stay standing against Lynette's superior upper body strength, her hands still locked with Lynette's.

Lynette's weight and force weighed down on Layla oppressively, and the french woman licked her lips as she felt more of the smaller woman's defense wear away. With ease, she'd taken back control of this fight, and now she glanced up to the cheering crowd with a charismatic smile, before looking back down at Layla and planning her next step. There could be no beat missed if she was going to continue her physical domination over this poor, underdeveloped girl.

Just when it seemed Lynette would grind Layla into the ring floor, she relinquished her offense and half-lifted Layla back onto her feet, roughly, intentionally keeping her unbalance, one of her hands still locked with Lynette's. She pushed her back, and then violently jerked the girl back towards her in a bit of an irish whip. As she pulled Layla closer, the taller vixen aimed an arm around her head backwards, to pull it beneath her arm in a headlock, and squeeze tightly. If the manuever succeeded, Lynette would raise her hand skyward, gesturing victoriously to the onlookers, and then waste no more time; she'd drop backwards, still with Layla's head locked tightly under her arm, and deliver a vicious DDT.

Layla grunted in protest as Lynette took control of her body, really starting to regret locking hands with this woman now. She ould then gasp as she was roughly pulled under Lynette's arm, freeing her hands but trapping her in a not much better position. Immediately Layla gripped at Lynette's sides to attmept to push her way out of the headlock, but once again she was outclassed in the strength department. The rising cheers of the crowd was the only warning Layla would get before she was abruptly dropped on her head. Layla cried out in pain, falling onto her her side clutching her head, pain evident in her face.

Like a predator swooping in after a recent strike, Lynette was instantly on Layla, hooking her leg and pressing the small girl's knee to her chest firmly, only half-hoping for an early departure from the match. Smirking devilishly down at her opponent, the ruthless french girl almost dared Layla to kick out.

There were still tons more things for her to do to her to prove to the AFW she was someone to be reckoned with...

Layla groaned as she was turned over, breathed out when she felt Lynette's body weight laying a top of her. Her head was still throbbing, but the pain was already starting to fade, so now she could focus on the fact her opponnt was now pinning her. Even during a in, Lynette still managed to piss Layla off with that infuriatingly smug look of hers. The ount of "One!" came from the ref, and Layla knew it was time to make her move. She glared bak at Lynette, hoping she wouldn't notice her raising her fist before she plowed it straight into the French woman's nose.

Layla would kick out alright, by punching Lynette right in the face!

Lynette's arms were tied up with the pin, so when Layla's fist landed cleanly in her face, it was, needless to say, a surprise.

Leaping off the woman as if scalded with hot water, Lynette held a hand over her nose as she staggered away a few feet, now looking enraged herself. "Insufferable--! Miserable girl!" She shrieked, her nose aching, but thankfully not broken or bleeding...yet. How dishonorable!

Fueling her anger into one moment, Lynette immediately countered, breaking into a dangerously fast sprint towards her opponent, and peeled slightly off to the side as she sprang when she was upon Layla, turning her body in hopes of catching the smaller girl in the head with the side of her knee. If Layla was too slow and was still getting up, she wouldn't get a chance to; Lynette would continue the trend of having her long legs do the harshest damage to the rude little Irish girl.

As fist met flesh Layla's mouth curled into an evil smile. It was certainly an unorthodox method of getting out of a pin, but as Lynette fell back screaming in pain, much to Layla's satisfaction, no one could deny that it was an effective one.

Layla quickly rolled to a kneeling position as Lynette was sent reeling backwards, and was up just in time to see the French woman charging straight at her, no doubt with anothe kick or something similiar to it. Now it was Layla's turn to take advantage of her opponant's anger.

Hunking down for the strike, Layla's arms reached out to grab at Lynette's leg before it could reach her skull. She'd then have control of on of the woman's legs. Grinning eagerly, Layla twisted her body so that she may throw Lynette straight to the mat by her leg, but she wouldn't stop there. If Layla managed to get Lynette down, she would keep hold of her opponant's leg, then wrap her own legs around it, applying a leg bar on Lynette's long leg.

Lynette would find Layla more cognizant that she'd have expected, and sure enough, that running knee attack would be thwarted, Layla's sticky little arms wrapping around her leg for the second time in the match.

Thankfully, however, the french woman's charge had been running on diesel. Her sprint had simply been too viciously fueled with speed and ill-intent, so that even with expert grappling and precision, Layla couldn't stop her entirely.

So, while Lynette felt a flare of mid-battle disappointment when her knee did not collide directly into Layla's adorable little scowl, her momentum carried even beyond the irish girl's leg grab and they were both sent sprawled onto the floor from the diverted impact.

Layla had managed to keep hold of Lynette's leg, but not in the perfect positioning she had likely hoped for. Both girls had their limbs tangled with one another's in a chaotic display, and both vied for control.

While Layla tried to manuever Lynette into that leg bar, Lynette decided to counter with a submission of her own. Her free leg slid silkily around Layla's neck, and the rest of her efforts were used trying to position her held leg to wrap around the girl's throat as well. A surge of ruthless anxiousness to choke the fight out of Layla took hold of the french fighter, and with flickering bloodlusting eyes, aimed to clench her smooth, toned thighs into a vice-like grip around the smaller foe.

Even if the submission failed, it was a sound tactic, forcing Layla to embrace Lynette's leggy chokehold, abandon her own submission effort, or try to overpower the noble. And Lynette was willing to gamble that that last one would be a tough choice to pursue, she thought with a devious smirk.

Layla growled irritablly as she faliled about with Lynette's legs. With her opponant struggling som much she was having a hard time getting the leg lock into place. Why couldn't Lynette just take her punishment like the bitch that she was?

Unfortunately for Layla, she was too busy trying to secure the leg bar she didn't notice Lynette's other leg sneaking up on her. "Hrk!" Layla gasped when both of Lynette's long legs clamped around her throat. Layla's eyes widened, cursing herself for being so dimwitted as to not see this coming. Immediately she abandoned her own submission, her hands flying up to try and stop the one being used against her. Layla kicked her legs in a frustration as it became clear that the strength in her arms was not enough to dislodge Lynette. Until she thought of something, she would just have to endure the choke.

She would have to think of something fast, or she would run out of air in no time.

Lynette felt the leg-choke fall into place like the last piece of a puzzle, and the sudden tightening of the haughty frenchwoman's legs 'round Layla's throat came without hesitation or quarter. She could feel the little windpipe beneath her thighs and a private pleasure prickled over her body as soon as she felt panic enter into her prey's thrashing. Layla had completely abandoned all sense of offense, so Lynette took that mantle from her with all the cold precision of an executioner.

Tightening her clamp, Lynette would look down at Layla wolfishly, the excitement evident in the european vixen's face. "Shh, shh...It'll all be over soon, ma bichette..." She cooed gently to the struggling girl, her voice still maddeningly sugar-coated, but this time laced with a distinct air of violent forcefulness. Sitting up and leaning back on her palms, Layla's head tucked delightfully between her legs, Lynette tightened her chokehold once more just to hear the smaller girl squeal...or attempt to. If she had no breath, only the desperate, strained little gasp of a trapped woman would be her reward.

Lynette couldn't decide which she wanted to hear more.