Dixie Clemets vs. PHDoom

Dixie lied there, her impressive figure jerking about with each and every one of Doom's punches. Every time she tried to go for a breath of air, the punk knocked it right back out of her. Her stomach was red, several bruises starting to form from here Doom had just kept on battering and pummeling at her. The crowd watched on, some of the horrified at what seemed to be a one-sided beatdown, the others yelling and screaming at Dixie to get back up. The cowgirl wasn't worried though. She was a tough ol' gal, with strength and stamina to spare, and as far as she was concerned this had turned into a war of attrition between the two of them. All she had to do was withstand Doom's blows until the girl got tired of it and tried to do something else to her. She couldn't deny Doom's strength though, and she couldn't deny that those repeated blows were hurting like hell.

Her moment of relief finally came when Doom finally let up, rising up to her feet over Dixie. The blonde rolled onto her side, closing her eyes as she held her midsection with both hands. She lied there, her breath a bit ragged as she tried to recover herself from that brutal beating. She would be fine. She just needed a moment, and Doom seemed more than willing to give it to her, pacing around her, yelling out with her big mouth again.

Eventually, after a few brief moments, Dixie rolled onto her stomach, starting to push herself up to her hands and knees, and then up to her feet. As she rose, she looked up at Doom and smirked, focusing her gaze tightly on the woman's face. "That all ya got...?" she asked in a soft voice, letting out a brief chuckle. "Gotta say, I ain't too impressed. I've had better beatdowns from gals half yer size!"

Catching her breath, re-centering herself, Doom's face twisted into a grin as she watched Dixie work her way back to her feet. The tension in her body became more and more visible, as her excitement mounted. This was something she'd been looking forward to, a real test of her skill against her opponent's, the two of them on equal footing. Dixie was looking Doom square in the eye, and didn't blink.

It had all been worth it for the terrified reaction of the audience, alone. Watching their idol lie there and take her beating, unable to fend off the onslaught of Doom. If any of them had cried for anything else, their pleas fell on deaf ears. Doom looked down at the discolored, reddening skin of Dixie's midsection, and couldn't resist licking her lips slightly. She took in a full view of Dixie's chest and shoulders as she breathed, hoping that what she was seeing was the signs of her opponent struggling to get her bearings.

When Dixie spoke to her, with the audacity to ask if that was all Doom was bringing to their match tonight, she said nothing. In a rare moment of brevity, Doom decided not to speak, but to act. Reeling back, drawing an open palm up past her face, Doom swung a chop directly towards Dixie's ample breasts, throwing her full body weight into a blow she hoped to hear echo throughout the AFW arena.

Dixie's chest was slightly heaving as she got back up onto her feet, her plentiful bosom slowly rising and falling with each hard breath that she took. By this point, after seeing Dixie getting back up, most of the audience had gotten over there shock at her beating. There was barely a person in the arena that wasn't screaming for the cowgirl to kick Doom's ass and show her who was in charge in this arena.

But then Doom's arm came swinging towards Dixie, her mighty chop landing a direct hit on the bare skin of the cowgirl's chest. There was a loud thwack sound, as Dixie went reeling back from Doom, stumbling backwards a couple of steps from her. Her breasts jiggled from the impact, her skin turning red where that chop had struck her. That had hurt almost as much as Doom's punches had hurt!

Dixie wasn't overly concerned though. She was back on her feet, and if Doom wanted to test her like this, she was more than willing to cooperate. It only took a moment for her to shake off that chop, and after that moment had passed she came lunging back in towards Doom. Her own arm raised up, drawing back for a brief instant before launching itself straight back at the punk's own chest.

If Doom wanted to get into a contest of chops with the Texan, Dixie would oblige, and she would see just what kind of power the cowgirl was packing!

Doom watched with sick glee as Dixie's body seemed to reel, even just a bit from her strike. She watched the reddening of her foe's fair white flesh as Doom's chop crossed it, and hoped with manic satisfaction that she'd end up leaving some sort of lasting bruise or welt on the cowgirl's attractive figure. Something to tell the leering audience around them that Doom had been there, and left her mark.

And while Doom had expected Dixie to buckle more under the blow, she was both shocked and excited to see the cowgirl shift her feet and ready herself for a counter strike. Doom grinned, squaring her shoulders as Dixie reeled her open hand back.

Doom flexed every muscle in her body, from the shoulders on down, practically inviting Dixie to strike her half-bare chest. She felt Dixie's chop strike her hard and firm across the top of her chest, the strong arm coming down on Doom's soft and yielding flesh, the sound of the strike echoing throughout the arena (and, especially, throughout Doom's ears). Doom reeled back slightly on her heels, the skin of her toned torso reddening as Dixie's blow connected. The roar of the audience was overwhelming, as they watched the much-loved lay some punishment on the upstart. And it was this roar that further motivated Doom, pushed her onward, to raising her own hand, wide open, to bring a returning strike aimed straight towards Dixie's chest in return.

The audience let out a collective 'oooh!' as Dixie's chop landed on Doom's chest, sending it's sound throughout the arena. The cowgirl felt satisfied by the blow, watching Doom as she reeled away from her. Now that is what a damn chop's supposed to be like, she thought to herself, noting the reddening of the punk's chest as she took the hit.

Dixie's satisfaction only grew, though, as she watched Doom shaking off her blow, drawing back for another big strike. She had to admit, as much as she wanted to put the woman into her place, she enjoyed a good contest like this, and she was curious as to just how much punishment Doom could take from her...as well as dish right back to her!

She steeled herself as Doom's chop flew towards her, flexing her own muscular upper body, bracing herself for the strike. There was another loud thwack as Doom's hand smashed into her chest, and once more Dixie went reeling back from her. It was only for a moment though. Dixie didn't want to lose any momentum in this exchange between herself and her opponent, so almost as soon as that chop had connected, her own arm went flying back at Doom's chest. It was another big chop aimed for the punk, this time the cowgirl putting even more of her strength than before behind it!

Surprisingly, Doom found herself enjoying this: the straightforward violence things had degenerated into. Simply getting to tee off with all her might on a woman who perfectly embodied what Doom despised about the AFW, about professional wrestling in general ... each strike she landed felt cathartic. Each of Dixie's blows felt like hammers across Doom's yielding chest, and she could feel bruises beginning to form just below her collarbone. However, Doom knew that this proved that, if she could withstand strikes like these from an opponent like Dixie, then she was a force to be reckoned with.

Doom's grin of dark satisfaction faltered a bit, however, when she saw Dixie reeling forward even more quickly for her next chop. Was this woman getting into this? Moreso than even Doom? Bracing herself as well as she could, Doom took the hit square across her chest, every muscle from her waist up absolutely rigid as the blow thundered throughout the arena, even against the excited "woooh!" of the audience. The rush Doom felt was palpable, as she got into it.

Not wanting to miss a beat, Doom shifted on her feet, and prepared to deliver her next chop. Falling back on fundamentals, she started the swing at her hip, bringing the full force of her body into the strike's momentum, the flat of her hand aimed squarely at the exposed top of Dixie's chest.

Dixie grinned as her chop struck against Doom's chest. She was caught up in the moment, finding herself enjoying this every bit as much as Doom was. She watched as the punk went rigid, taking her blow straight-on, and she couldn't help but let out a whistle. The girl was tough, there was no doubts about that. There wasn't that many women that could take that many hard chops from Dixie and still be standing!

She braced herself as she saw Doom shifting, ready to fire off another chop at the cowgirl. Her body went hard, the Texan flexing herself again to ready herself for the attack. Once again Doom hand smacked into her chest, and once again Dixie reeled back, another loud crash echoing through the arena. Dixie winced at the blow, realizing that Doom had put even more strength into the attack, and that she was starting to feel sore.

No matter. Dixie would just have to up her own game!

She drew back her own arm again, coming in fast and hard towards Doom. Letting a powerful, almost primal scream pass her lips, Dixie twisted her entire body towards Doom, swinging her big chop straight for her chest one more time, aiming squarely at the woman's bare, reddened skin.

When Dixie had whistled, Doom's lips curled into a contemptuous sneer. When she heard the cowgirl's echoing howl, however, she found herself wincing involuntarily at the force that threatened to come down on her. Doom could only watch as the Texan's toned, muscular arm came down in an arc, her hand poised to lay across Doom's chest with incredible force.

That Dixie had reeled back had been satisfying, but the fact that the stubborn cowgirl hadn't been laid low by the attack was inconceivable. Doom's strike was a combination of flawless technique, merciless force and self-righteous fury, and still the Texan stood her ground. Not only stood her ground, but brought the attack back in kind. Apparently, Doom had underestimated the veteran.

Dixie's blow came down onto Doom's chest with a loud, echoing rapport that rang in Doom's ears and drowned out the ecstatic "Wooo!" of the audience. Doom let out a guttural, obscene sounding shout, reeling back. She shifted on her center of balance for a moment, obviously struggling to keep her center of balance.

The moment's vulnerability caused Doom to seethe, her blood boiling at the thought of not being able to match her foe blow-by-blow. Doom took a brief moment to plant her feet, her lips curling into a snarl. She raised her open hand, drew her tongue across the center of her palm, and drew back for another strike. Again beginning the swing from her hip, trying to put every ounce of force she could into the blow, Doom had her aim fixed on Dixie's chest while trying to swing with enough force that her follow-through would end up several inches behind her ...

Dixie watched closely as her chop connected, taking note that it had almost been enough to do Doom in. For the Texan, this contest had suddenly become personal. She had very, very rarely lost in a contest of strength and of power in her career, and as impressive as Doom's own strength and stamina was proving to be, she wanted the girl laid out. She wanted to win this stage of the match and show the punk just which of them was the greater.

When Doom raised her palm, dragging her tongue across it, Dixie smirked at her. She planted each of her boots sturdily against the mat, spreading her arms wide, arching her back to push her chest out, giving Doom a perfect target for her next blow. "Come on!!" Dixie shouted at her, trying to egg her on. She wanted to see just what Doom could throw at her. She wanted to prove that she could take anything the punk could throw her way. "Gimme all you got, girl!" She practically screamed, a twisted grin on her face as she steeled herself for the next attack.

The sound of Doom's chop striking into Dixie's chest echoed throughout the arena. The crowd was silent as the huge chop found it's target, striking Dixie right in her half-naked chest, leaving a huge red imprint in it's wake. The Texan herself let out a loud grunt, the force of the blow sending her reeling away from Doom, turning her back to the punk. Dixie's hands flew up, grabbing at her chest. She hissed in pain through gritted teeth as she tried to shrug off the blow. It hurt. It hurt like hell.

But the important thing was, she was still standing. She was still on her feet.

A moment went by. Then another. And another. Then finally, Dixie turned back to Doom, meeting her gaze once more. "Is that it, girl?" she yelled at her, taking a bold step in her direction. "It ain't good enough! Lemme show ya jes' what a real chop is!"

With that said, Dixie suddenly went lunging back in towards Doom. Her arm raised up, her tight muscles bulging as her arm flexed, drawing in power as Dixie set up her blow. Once she was close enough to the punk, she let her chop fly, trying to put every single bit of power and force that she could muscle into her blow, dead-set and determined as hell to show Doom just who was the stronger of the two women.

Doom had been nearly elated at the taunts Dixie threw her way, egging her on, begging for the devastation that she planned to lay down on the cowgirl. The sound of Doom's wet palm laying down hard on Dixie's soft breast echoed in her ears, ringing throughout the arena, sending chills up Doom's spine. Doom laughed as she watched the red imprint of her hand forming a welt across Dixie's fair skin. Feeling dizzy and almost punch-drunk at this point, Doom was reveling in their contest, the pain she seemed to inflict on Dixie making her momentarily forget the way the cowgirl's own blows had left her off-balance and aching.

Doom watched Dixie intently, in those moments between chops. Doom waited, sneering, expecting the veteran to drop at any moment, under the punishment Doom had laid out across her ample chest. So, when Dixie's eyes fixed hers, Doom felt her breath catch in her throat, suddenly. Everything around Doom seemed to slow down, as Dixie impudently shouted back in her face, reeling back for yet another blow. Doom's muscles tensed, her feet set firm against the mat. She watched Dixie step forward like some sort of curvy blond Juggernaut, saw the anger and determination that drove Dixie's chop home, and took every ounce of it directly to the chest.

This time, however, there seemed to be no bracing for it. Dixie's hand laid down hard across Doom's chest, the rapport of palm against flesh ringing hard in her ears, beads of sweat shaking off of Doom's chest and spittle escaping from between her lips as her body seemed to cave under the force. As sure of herself as she'd been before, Doom wasn't prepared for the force that Dixie's brought in on this chop, for the punishment she was bringing down on Doom's body. And, with a audible, agonized groan, Doom fell, her shoulders colliding solidly with the mat.