Littlest Pet Shop of Horrors

Phoebe saw the look of determination on Gemmaâ€s face, and the cowgirl knew that her opponent was going to do everything she could to get out of this cage. Inside the cage, for the most part, Phoebe had been dominating the fight; if she could keep the two of them in there, then she would probably continue to have the advantage. If they got back out onto the mat, however, it could be anyoneâ€s game.

As Gemma backed up against the other side of the cage, Phoebe would grunt and scoot forward. If her opponent was too scared to come at her, she would be more than happy to close the short distance between them herself and beat the crap out of the girl. She reached her hands out to grap onto Gemmaâ€s collar. At that point, the British girlâ€s legs shot forward and slammed into Phoebeâ€s chest.

The American wrestler screamed and fell backwards, tumbling out of the cage and landing in a heap, rear end sticking up in the air, face pressed against the mat. She breathed heavily, her eyes staring unfocusedly at Gemma.

Gemma couldn't keep track of how long she'd been trapped in that cage, how long she'd been at Phoebe's mercy. All she knew was that her chance at freedom was at hand, and she couldn't afford to take that opportunity lightly. Seeing Phoebe's hand snatch at her collar, Gemma responded as quickly as she could. Throwing the entire force of her body forward, kicking straight from the hips, she drove her feet into Phoebe's chest with all of her might. She felt the impact of the her boots against the American's chest, watched her tumble backwards, and felt a sudden surge of energy.

Seeing the cowgirl tumbling backwards onto the mat, Gemma knew she couldn't take a moment's rest, or risk losing her advantage. She scrambled forward, a weight lifting off of her shoulders as she exited the cage door. She could see Phoebe's blurry, unfocused eyes, saw the compromised position of her body. Against an opponent that Gemma already knew to be stronger, she felt she had to take immediate advantage.

Gemma tried to scramble on top of Phoebe, the second she was back on the mat. Seeing the cowgirl in such a vulnerable position, Gemma felt positively giddy at the chance to take advantage, and teach this American bitch some respect. Getting on top of her foe as best she could, Gemma would then attempt to straddle the cowgirl's neck with her thighs, pressing her full weight downward onto the back of Phoebe's neck as she wrapped her arms around her slender waist. Then, releasing with one arm, Gemma would attempt to get some payback for tonight's earlier humiliation, using her free hand to relentlessly pummel Phoebe's upturned bum with the palm of her hand, spanking her while shouting, “Naughty pet! Naughty, naughty, naughty!”

There was a sharp, audible intake of breath from the audience as Gemma's boot crashed into Phoebe's chest, knocking the cowgirl like a ragdoll out of the cage. The impact was hard, and it was loud, and Phoebe counted herself lucky that it seemed that she hadn't suffered any cracked ribs from it; but, though she may not have incurred any lasting damage from her foe's kick, it had stunned her quite completely, putting her at the British wrestler's mercy.

"Gah!" Phoebe squawked, as her opponent sat down on the back of her neck. Her airways were half-crushed by the girl's weight, and her breath came in short, ragged gasps. And, if that wasn't bad enough, all of a sudden the British girl's hand came crashing down on Phoebe's rear end, eliciting a pained, humiliated cry from the cowgirl. She wiggled weakly, but could do nothing to stop her foe as her bum grew redder beneath her skirt and underwear.

Gemma hated to admit it, but she felt a great deal of satisfaction at the sensation of Phoebe's neck being slowly crushed between her thighs. The young steampunk girl had been forced to deal with more than a little embarrassment, at all of the humiliation she'd been subjected to, in the cage. Here, however, Gemma knew that she was in control, that she had a chance at getting back at Phoebe for the pain and suffering that she'd been subjected to, up until now. With Phoebe's body pinned helplessly beneath her, Gemma took great satisfaction in the sensation of her hand beating down, again and again, on the cowgirl's toned white ass. Gemma knew she couldn't keep this up for long, but there was a wide degree of satisfaction in humbling the young cowgirl between her thighs. She attempted to come down harder and harder on Phoebe's bum, spanking the cowgirl for all she was worth, while trying to get some breathing room. More than anything, this entire night, Gemma had wanted to be seen as a threat. Here, feeling Phoebe's ass taking blow after blow from Gemma's merciless palm, she finally felt that she was living up to that idea.

On the other hand, however, Gemma felt guilty about taking too much advantage of a downed foe. At least, out of a sense of revenge. The young brit was all too aware, however, that she wasn't likely to get another opportunity like this, through the rest of the match. Taking a deep breath, Gemma decided that she needed to do whatever she could, to get an edge over Phoebe. With one arm still tucked firmly into the cowgirl's midsection, Gemma tried lifting Phoebe. She relented from the spanking, trying to put her focus on clutching Phoebe's head between her toned thighs. Gemma kept one arm wrapped around the waist of her foe, with another lifting tight from around Phoebe's inner thigh. Gemma was entirely vulnerable, for the moment, as she tried to set up the devastating piledriver. She knew that it wasn't a wise move, understanding even as she tried to set it up that the move could be easily countered. But Gemma felt she had to try for it, if for no other reason than to try and impress the fans that had supported her, as she'd come into AFW.

Phoebe writhed beneath her opponent, doing what she could to escape, but all of her struggles were of little use. She really just had to sit there and take the abuse which Gemma gave to her, grinding her teeth as her neck was slowly crushed and her rear end was beaten to what was surely, beneath her skirt and panties, a vivid crimson hue. Tears welled up in Phoebeâ€s eyes as the pain grew worse and worse.

“F-f…fuck…” she whimpered, feeling completely helpless as Gemma continued to dominate her. Things seemed like they were about to go from bad to worse, too, when the Briton lifted her up and grabbed her around the waist and between her thighs. Phoebe knew that her blonde foe was going for a piledriver, and, sensing that it could very easily be devastating, she knew that she needed to disrupt it. Her hands would whack at Gemmaâ€s sides, while at the same time she would try to close her legs around the girlâ€s head, trapping her in a headscissors that would hopefully make her think twice before dropping the cowgirl.

It took all of the strength that Gemma could muster, to hoist Phoebe into the piledriver position. Gemma knew immediately how lucky she was, that Phoebe had such a lithe, toned figure; any attempt to lift a larger girl would have met in complete disaster. Gemma bit her lip as she strained to lift her foe, knowing full well that such a power move wasn't normally her strong suit, but desperate enough, tonight, to commit herself fully to such a move. She knew how many eyes were on her, tonight, and the muscles of her back and spine were screaming with desperation to not let those fans down.

The young Brit couldn't help but grin, however, when she heard Phoebe's whimpering, and felt the cowgirl's body lift up from the mat, trapped in her grip. It was a basic maneuver, seemingly, but the piledriver required so much strength and effort that Gemma had to give the full commitment of her body to making it work. She smiled, for the first time in quite awhile, feeling a rush at the chance that she could impress the AFW crowd, tonight. At least, until she felt tight, pounding hands slam into her already straining sides.

“Hhgnnn!” Gemma cried out, as Phoebe pounded into her sides. She felt her entire figure tighten against the assault, but she kept a tight grip on her foe's body, not wanting to give up her rare, momentary advantage. A decision that Gemma came to regret immediately, as she felt Phoebe's thighs tighten hard around her neck. “N-no! Don't!” Gemma exclaimed, quickly, as she felt the cowgirl's muscular legs closing around her throat. The sudden lack of air hit the Brit hard, as she was already straining to lift her opponent for her next move. On an instinctive level, though, Gemma knew that dropping Phoebe hard would only put a worse strain on her tender neck. Instead, panicked, Gemma held her ground. She committed as much as she could to lifting Phoebe into the air, and trying to minimize the damage that the cowgirl (coupled up with gravity) could do to her. Gemma choked back tears, though, knowing that unless she came up with something dreadfully clever, this wasn't going to end well.

Phoebe was starting to get a little dizzy as all of her blood rushed to her head. Nevertheless, she kept her legs locked around Gemmaâ€s neck, hoping that this hanging headscissors would be enough to force the British wrestler to let her go without executing the piledriver. The cowgirl heard how her opponent cried out when Phoebe trapped her head between her thighs, hoping that those desperate pleas meant that she would soon be released.

Gemma didnâ€t seem to want to release her, however. The girl did just about the last thing that Phoebe expected her to do, as a matter of fact: she stayed still, allowing Phoebe to continue to squeeze her head between her toned legs, but keeping the cowgirl upside-down. Phoebe raised an eyebrow. Wouldnâ€t this just cause Gemma more pain than letting her go? Perhaps the British girl thought she could tolerate Phoebeâ€s scissor hold longer than Phoebe could tolerate the disorienting feeling of being held upside down. The American wrestler would scoff at that possibility, and just keep squeezing, ignoring the increasing lightheadedness that she felt as all her blood collected in her skull.

It took every ounce of strength and willpower that Gemma had, not to panic too badly, in the hold. She could feel Phoebe's thighs, tight and muscular, closing down on her tender neck. Gemma's face reddened, slightly, and a high-pitched moan escaped the base of her throat, as she held her opponent aloft. However, she still felt like she couldn't let go. As much suffering as it caused the young Brit, she had an edge, at the moment. An edge she felt she couldn't let go of.

Through watery, half-closed eyes, Gemma surveyed the ring. There were dozens of ridiculous toys and weapons lying about, and Gemma prayed that she could find one that she could turn to her advantage. Her knees began to buckle, however. Gemma's entire body quivered and trembled, the effort of lifting Phoebe, and the suffering caused by the neckscissor maneuver taking their toll. She knew she'd have to act fast. Suddenly, though, her eyes settled on the cat tower, still standing in the center of the ring.

Mustering all of the energy she could, Gemma flexed her arms, grasping Phoebe's body as tightly as she could. With a loud cry of effort, she ran full-steam at the tower. She put all of the strength she had left, at the moment, into attempting to squash the American's body between herself, and the bizarre, unyielding structure in the center of the ring.

Phoebe was expecting Gemma to break and put her down any second, but it was taking the British girl far longer than Phoebe had anticipated to give in. Ten seconds passed, then twenty. At this point, Phoebeâ€s vision was getting blurry, and her head was spinning. Being upside down like this made her dizzy, and it made her disoriented. Her scissor hold on Gemmaâ€s head began to loosen a bit…

And then, the British girl rushed forward, slamming Phoebe into one of the legs of the cat tree. The cowgirl cried out in pain, her legs releasing her opponentâ€s head and slumping towards the mat. If Gemma let go of her, Phoebe would once again crumple to the canvas in agony—otherwise, she would be like a ragdoll in the blonde wrestlerâ€s arms.

Gemma couldn't help but let out a massive sigh of relief, as she felt Phoebe's muscular legs finally release from her neck. The cowgirl's body went slack in Gemma's arms, causing the young Brit to nearly collapse on top of her in relief. She knew it was a gamble to even attempt a power move like that, and while the strain in her neck told her she'd paid for it, Gemma knew it could have been far, far worse. Bracing her legs, Gemma dumped Phoebe's body unceremoniously to the mat and stood over her, hoping to regain her breath and some measure of strength.

Momentarily, Gemma considered attempting to roll over Phoebe for a pin. Quickly, however, she remembered the cruel stipulations of the match. Gemma's breath caught in her chest, a moment, her eyes tensely darting about the ring, taking in all of the bizarre ways the two girls had been given, to push one another to submission. As reluctant as Gemma was to bring things down to too tough a level, she knew that Phoebe wouldn't hold any such compunctions, and that the cowgirl wouldn't be one to give up easily.

Staggering backwards, still trying to recover her strength, Gemma took in her surroundings and decided to go for what she figured would be one of the more intimidating items in the ring: one of the bowls of wet dog food, set down next to a cage. Turning her back to Phoebe, Gemma picked up the bowl in both hands, the pungent smell of it assaulting the young vegan's nostrils. It disgusted her to the pit of her stomach, use something like this. Still, Gemma was getting desperate, and with any luck it would be enough to make Phoebe rethink her dedication to the match ...