Dixie Clemets vs. PHDoom

Dixie was running on adrenaline now, trying to maintain her momentum, trying to punish Doom for her brief dominance over her. She couldn't Doom get another attack in, she had to keep moving and keep pressing her advantage.

When her fist slammed into the woman's jaw, forcing Doom to reel back, the babbling stream of curses trying to pass the brunette's lips? It felt good to Dixie. It felt good to smash her fist right into the punk's face, to hear the foul words crying out at her. Driving an opponent to that point let the cowgirl know that she was the one in charge of things in the ring.

She planned on keeping herself in charge too. When Doom flashed her middle finger towards Dixie, the blonde lunged forward, trying to grab at Doom's wrist, holding it tight. She then tried to maneuver behind Doom, attempting to bend her arm behind her back and keep it held there with one hand, while her other arm moved up, trying to pull Doom into a simple, tight sleeper hold, yanking the woman's body up close to her own in the process.

Doom continued to direct invective at the cowgirl. It was possible that Doom's jaw was too bruised and battered, at the moment, to properly form intimidating words. It was also possible that Doom's injured face was forming a properly dominant and intimidating string of obscenity, and the buxom cowgirl was simply too dense to catch on. Doom decided it was most likely the latter. She was using a number of big words. Doom was fairly certain. Punches were making things hard to keep track of.

The next thing Doom knew, her arm was getting bent behind herself. Before she could formulate a response, Doom could feel her body being pulled tight against Dixie's, the cowgirl's toned arms taking position for the sleeperhold around Doom's throat. Doom breathed deeply, trying to center herself as she was trapped against the veteran.

As unlikely as it seemed, Doom knew there was a possibility of Dixie gaining an upper hand, even making her pass out, if she let Dixie keep that hold locked in for long. Reaching behind herself with her free hand, Doom grasped for a fistful of Dixie's blond locks; if she was able to get that handhold for leverage, Doom planned to start thrusting her head back against Dixie's face. It wouldn't be the most advantageous counter, but Doom believed firmly that it would teach this impudent slattern the dangers of tangling so closely with Doom.

Dixie wrapped her arm around Doom's neck, pulling the barely-clad woman up close to her own well-toned body. She could feel Doom pressing against her, and she pushed right back into her, her warm body, damp from her sweat, pressed close against the brunette's own strong form. Her other arm held Doom's arm close, wanting to make sure the woman couldn't strike back at her with it. As long as she could keep Doom trapped like this, even if just for a few moments, she would have the time she needed to regain a bit of her strength.

She even leaned in towards Doom's ear, whispering to her, taunting at the woman to try and keep her distracted. "Yer strong, girl," she began, her voice a low whisper, her accent drawling as she aimed her words towards the punk. "But you ain't strong enough, ain't nowhere near strong enough to beat me..."

She pulled her head back afterwards, and as she did she was taken by surprise. Up came Doom's free hand, grabbing tight onto Dixie's hair, her blonde locks matted together by the sweat she had worked up throughout the long match. She winced, already feeling her hold starting to loosen as Doom pulled on her hair.

"H-hey! Lemme go!" she cried at the punk, and as she did Doom's head suddenly thrust backwards, slamming itself against Dixie's face. It was a simple counter, but undeniably effective, for which each thrust back, Dixie cried out again and again, until finally the Texan had taken enough. She dropped her hold on Doom and let go of her arm, reaching up to try and shove the woman away from her, hoping she would release her hair as she did so.

For a second, Doom registered in her ear what seemed to be words, but her face flushed red as she was forced to take in Dixie's accent. Sneering, swelling with self-righteous fury, Doom nearly lost her composure when she caught a fistful of Dixie's blond locks.

Doom could feel the cowgirl's soft, athletic body pressed against her own, and she focused all of her rage onto Dixie's crowd-pleasing body. Each thrust of Doom's skull against Dixie's trapped head, years of rage working themselves out into Doom's headbutts.

When Dixie finally thrust Doom off, however she released the hold. Still reeling from every blow she'd taken thus far, Doom knew she could keep pressing such a weak advantage. Rolling forward onto her chest, breathing deeply, Doom tried to regain as much strength as she could. Chest and face pressed hard against the mat, Doom rolled her head back to glare at Dixie, a wicked grin splitting her face, almost daring the cowgirl to make her next move.

As Doom stumbled away from Dixie, the Texan reached up, feeling her face gently. She could already tell those headbutts were going to leave a bruise, and while normally something like that wouldn't have bothered her, the thought of Doom leaving a mark on her just got underneath Dixie's skin. She couldn't help but respect the woman's skills and strength, but everything else about her just pissed the Texan off.

She looked down, and saw the grin on Doom face, saw the woman roll over and stare back at her. It was a silent challenge that Dixie couldn't help but take, and if she had her way, Doom wouldn't be smiling for long.

Dixie stomped forward, going straight for Doom as she laid upon the match before her. As she approached the punk she leaned down, going to grab one of her legs, trying to lift it up high. "Let's see jes' how tough you are!" she shouted out, trying to take Doom's leg and drive it downwards, trying to smash the woman's knee right into the mat!

Grinning through the pain of everything she'd been subjected to throughout this match, Doom simply watched as Dixie caught a grip over her leg. At this point, though, Doom had neither the leverage nor the strength to counter Dixie's sheer physical power, and deep down she knew this. Doom was coated in a thin shine of sweat, bruised and punch-drunk with everything she'd been subjected to. Throughout the entire match, though, Doom had been soaking in how much hatred she could draw; not just from her opponent, but from the entire audience around them. Watching Dixie feel around her face, checking for bruises, Doom couldn't help but chuckle slightly at the thought of marring the crowd favourite. Now, she silently welcomed whatever sort of maneuver Dixie might see as a fitting response ...

"Yes!" Doom choked out through clenched teeth, feeling her knee banging solidly into the mat. Doom wrapped her arms around her knee, but still tried her damnedest to not show weakness in the face of Dixie's offense. "Yes," she repeated, hoarsely, giving favour to the leg closest to Dixie, almost presenting her weakened limb to Dixie. The collision of her knee to the mat made Doom feel as though her leg would split in two, with all of the power the cowgirl was bringing to bear. Still, Doom couldn't help but lash out, defiantly. "Let's just see how tough I am, then ..."

The sound of Doom's "Yes!" sent a shiver down Dixie's spine. Just what the hell was wrong with this girl? She was enjoying this way too much for Dixie's tastes.

Shaking her head at Doom, she lifted up her leg a second time, muttering down at her. "That's what I plan on doin', girl..." Up came Doom's leg, and with a deep roar, Dixie went to slam it down again, using as much strength as she could muster to slam that knee straight down into the canvas for a second time.

A lesser woman would have regretted telling Dixie to continue working that knee. A lesser woman wouldn't have had the fortitude to continue taking this sort of punishment to a leg which was very near its breaking point. But Doom was not of such lesser character. At least, she kept telling herself this as she felt Dixie clutch her arms around Doom's ankle, felt the vibration's of Dixie's roaring chest against her vulnerable limb.

Doom pressed her palms against the mat, hoping to give herself leverage to minimize whatever damage Dixie could do with her slam. Doom knew she'd have to formulate a counter, and soon, but for now it seemed she was at the cowgirl's scant mercy.

Dixie smiled in satisfaction, as Doom's knee smashed into the mat again. This time, there was no cry from Doom's lips, no urging for the cowgirl to continue. As far as Dixie was concerned, that was a good sign, a sign that perhaps Doom was finally starting to break.

If Dixie had been against any other opponent, she probably would have lifted the leg again, going for a third strike into the mat. But against Doom? She didn't want to risk it. The woman kept proving her stamina and her wiliness, despite Dixie throwing so much at her. She wasn't going to lift her leg up again, only to have Doom figure a way to turn things back around on her!

Clearly, Dixie's next move was simple. She had caused enough pain (Or at least, hoped she had caused enough pain) to keep Doom from trying anything too crazy for the time being. Lifting up that weakened leg again, Dixie stepped forward, maneuvering herself over Doom's body, planting one foot on either side of her body. Then, she bent the punk's leg backwards, trying to pin it under her arms, as she began to lean back, trying to put Doom into a nice, simple, single-legged Boston crab, intending to wear the punk down even further.

Trying to massage her knee during the brief respite, Doom tried her level best to block out the cheers of the audience, the pain throbbing through her exhausted body, and focus on her hate. Gritting her teeth, seething, Doom resolved again that she couldn't let herself be broken down by the cowgirl. Not tonight, not ever.

Biding her time, Doom began formulating a rough plan to counter another knee smash, but when she felt Dixie's hands wrap around her, the next move was unexpected. Doom could feel Dixie rolling her over, clutching the leg and folding her into a single-leg boston crab. Doom sneered upward, enraged at the thought of Dixie trying to draw a submission from her with such a simple move.

For all of her hate, however, Doom couldn't block out the sharp pain the hold put her in. A low, long groan escaping from between Doom's teeth, she kept her hands clenched into fists, balled against the mat, fighting any momentary weakness that allow her to tap out. Instead, as she felt Dixie folding her over, Doom pushed up from the fists, lifting her body above the mat. A risky move, especially in her weakened state, Doom hoped to give herself the space to turn with the bend, and escape the agony Dixie was forcing through her lower body.