Dixie Clemets vs. PHDoom

Once she felt that Doom's leg was nice and secure, tucked firmly under her arm, Dixie began to lean back, really trying to stretch and bend Doom's leg backwards. She held no illusions about being able to force a submission from such a simple hold, but at the very least she thought she could wear the woman down, maybe even put a bit of fear into her in case the match was drawn out even more. After all, if she could keep Doom trapped in this position for a while, no doubt the punk would be worried about Dixie catching her in another submission, or working that leg over even more.

As she leaned back, Dixie turned her head around, glaring down at Doom sharply. "C'mon, girl!" she cried out, giving her leg a sharp crank backwards. "Give it on up! The sooner you give in, the sooner this'll all be over!" She could hear Doom's moaning, and she knew the hold was having an effect on her. All she had to do was hold her position, and the foul-mouthed punk would be done for.

But then Dixie watched, as Doom started to push herself up, trying to lift herself off of the mat. Dixie couldn't allow that, she couldn't let Doom have this chance to escape her. She decided to go for something drastic, something of a risky move herself. As Doom began to rise, Dixie suddenly let go of her leg, letting it snap back towards the mat, as the cowgirl herself fell backwards, trying to plant her rather large bottom right into the small of Doom's back, trying to use her own size and weight to force her opponent back down into the canvas. Dixie was more than willing to bet that Doom wouldn't be expecting that particular move!

Listening to Dixie's taunts, Doom could feel her blood pressure rising. Still exhausted, the anger gave her the extra bit of motivation she needed to get clear of the mat, where she'd be able to finally do something about the indignity she'd been suffering at the hands of the ring veteran. "It's over," she grunted, the pain in her shoulders from earlier in the match making itself known again, as she struggled to get up, "when Doom says it is over!"

Then, shockingly, Doom felt Dixie release her leg. Doom laughed, suddenly, unsure of what had happened. "Lose your ner-" before she could even finish her taunt, however, Doom was driven back down to the mat as the felt the force of Dixie's ample bottom come slamming down on her lower back. With a noise something like a grunt, Doom was winded, flat on the mat, with the full force of the cowgirl seated comfortably on top of her. Doom fumed there, for a moment, her eyes glaring out in blind, unseeing hate, as she tried to force air back into her body. For the moment, Doom could do nothing but try to draw breath, and take a mental register of every horrible thing she'd visit on Dixie for this indignity ...

"What's wrong?" Dixie taunted back at Doom after she planted herself onto the woman's back. "Cat got yer tongue?"

She glanced back at Doom, and she couldn't help but grind her ass in place against the punk's backside for a moment, flashing her a wide grin. The crowd, pleased at the site of Dixie enjoying her dominant position over Doom, began to cheer and catcall, Dixie's own fans yelling at the top of their lungs, glad to see Dixie squash the newcomer back to the mat in such a way. "Looks like I gotcha again, girl," she teased, before turning her attention back to Doom's legs. She had Doom now. She knew she had her. All she had to do was finish the job. Extending her arms outwards, Dixie went to grab for Doom's legs again, leaning forward to lift up both of them. This time, she was trying to tuck them under both of her arms, trying to trap Doom firmly in the full Boston crab hold, bending both of her legs back towards herself. She was fully, one hundred percent confident, that once she got this hold locked in on Doom that the woman would be done for, and she expected a submission quite soon.

“God. Fucking. Dammit!” Doom hissed, feeling the warm mass of Dixie's ass rubbing across her lower back, tauntingly. The prurient calls of the audience at her ears only served to fuel Doom's rage, as she seethed under Dixie's dominant body. This was exactly the kind of sickening perversion Doom saw whenever she looked at AFW, and now she was galled to be crushed beneath it.

Doom's frustration was distracting enough that Dixie was able to catch firm hold of her in an elementary submission move. Doom could feel her legs, already aching, wrapped firmly under Dixie's arms and pressed tightly against the curvy cowgirl's body. She could feel her lower body lifted off of the mat, bent and contorted under Dixie's dominant position, trying to bend and twist the life out of her. And every ounce of it filled Doom with rage.

Doom's hands were balled tightly into fists, pressed against the mat. Her fingers flickered, once or twice, as she considered tapping out. But every time the pain got to be too much, Doom thought of Dixie, the personification of everything in wrestling that she hated, and she grit her teeth and pressed forward. Settling her forearms against the mat, Doom tried to shove herself upward, suddenly, pushing through blinding pain, a low growl rumbling at the base of her throat. If she could, Doom would attempt to rise to her knuckles and push Dixie off by kicking her legs as hard as she could, hoping that the sudden shift in her position would break the boston crab. It was an all-or-nothing effort, but Doom knew that she had no other choice.

Dixie leaned into her hold, leaning back, trying to add as much pressure into her position as she can. She had Doom trapped. There was nowhere for the punk to go. Dixie felt like this match was her's. No...she knew this match was her's. Any moment now, she expect the submission from Doom. She just had to keep the simple, yet undeniably effective hold locked in.

But, once again, it seemed that Dixie had grown too confident with herself, and had underestimated Doom once more. Dixie felt her foe shifting underneath her, and as she turned her head to glance down at Doom, the punk shoved herself upwards, kicking her legs in a desperate bid to escape. It caught Dixie off-guard, and though it didn't completely break the hold, Dixie's grip on Doom's legs was quite weakened.

And then, once again, Dixie's own confidence took over. She was frustrated. She wanted to end this. But...the cowgirl wanted to teach Doom a lesson, at the same time. She decided to go ahead and let Doom's legs go, shoving them angrily towards the mat. She stepped off of her, turning towards her head, giving her a quick sneer. "Alright, girly...ya don't want to give up? Ya want to drag this out...? It's fine by me..." She took a step back, actually giving Doom the room she needed to get back up. "On yer feet, then. You want to keep going, then ah'm going to let ya. Ah'll show ya jes' what this cowgirl can do..." She gestured towards Doom, her voice suddenly raising to a louder tone. "So get back up! I ain't got all day to wait for ya! On yer damn feet!"

As Doom felt her feet collide with the mat, the pressure of Dixie's ample backside finally off of her spine, she began to gather herself. She was red-faced, enraged, even a bit humiliated at Dixie's treatment of her throughout this match. The pain in Doom's back was overwhelming, the eyes of the audience made every hair on the back of her neck stand on end, but sheer egotism hadn't allowed her to quit. Every word Dixie spat at her, muffled a bit by the rush of blood to Doom's head, only served to enrage her more. Doom slapped the mat with both hands, and sprang to her feet with a scream of rage.

That she might be getting back to a vertical position too quickly hardly occurred to Doom, and already she found herself off-balance. The only thing keeping her on her feet, at this point, was hate. Sweating, aching and dizzy, Doom's sheer desire to absolutely destroy Dixie with her bare fists was doing more to support her, in this moment, than any muscle in her lithe body.

Between Dixie's voice screaming her down and the roar of the audience watching this match continue, Doom tried to focus her hate into violence. She listened to the braying of the voyeurs around them, their uproar deafening in its shock that this match was still going strong. Doom focused on Dixie's face, watching her the cowgirl's lips form each enraged insult. Bringing her focus to the tight ball of rage forming in her gut from all of this, Doom exploded forward, arm raised for a clothesline aimed squarely at Dixie's collarbone, arm flexed and ready to silence her.

Dixie watched, as Doom started to bring herself back up to her feet. She wanted to beat the woman, she wanted to take her down and teach her a lesson, and she was fired up about it, but at the same time...

At the same time, she was enjoying this fight. As much dislike as she held towards Doom, part of her wanted the fight to continue. It had been too long since she had faced someone that could fire her up this much, and give her such a good match. Maybe it was vanity, maybe it was overconfidence, and maybe it was stupidity, but she didn't want to end things yet, she wanted to see just how far she could push Doom.

She watched, smirking as Doom pushed herself up, ready to engage the woman once more as she got back on her feet. What she wasn't ready for was for Doom to come springing straight towards her, already launching an attack the cowgirl's way. Caught completely off of her guard, taken completely by surprise, Dixie was smashed by the clothesline, a direct hit against her chest.

"Uuungh!" came the cry through her lips, the boisterous blonde stumbling back several steps from Doom. She didn't go down, not just yet, but she seriously looked off balance, leaning a little ways forward, grabbing at her reddened chest with both hands.

Doom felt invigorated, as she heard the thunderous impact of her arm across Dixie's chest. A sneer stretched across Doom's face, as she watched Dixie buckle under the blow. Surely, Doom told herself, any reasonable victim would have been laid low by such an attack. Doom reasoned that the buxom veteran was simply too thick-headed to know when she should go down. Any moment, now, this cow would be ready to collapse and beg for Doom's precious, scant mercy. The arena around her was still only just coming into focus, mostly a flashing mass of light and sound, but this seemed perfectly reasonable thinking, to Doom.

Affixing the soles of her boots hard against the mat, Doom pivoted on her waist. Operating on pure adrenaline and aggression, Doom swung her off arm towards Dixie's back, swinging for the fences. She couldn't give the cowgirl a moment to rest, not an instant to catch her breath. “Be a good cow,” Doom shouted, “and go out to pasture, damn you!”

Dixie didn't get much of a chance to recover from Doom's clothesline. It seemed like the punk had gotten completely fired up again, and was ready to bring it to the Texan once more. It was exactly what Dixie had wanted, but not when it meant that Doom was actually going to pick up the advantage again!

Doom spun about, and her arm struck home, smashing right into the center of Dixie's back. With a choked cry, the blonde went falling forward, right onto her hands and knees. Her head hung low, sweat dripping off her face and her body onto the mat. Her breath was hard, and her body sore, but she wasn't going to call it quits. Not yet.

She just had to get back up first, but she seriously doubted that Doom would give her that chance.

Doom let out something like a laugh, as she watched her foe driven to her knees under the weight of her blow. Still trying to get balanced on top of her own feet, Doom was nonetheless overjoyed at the sight of the cowgirl's powerful, curvy figure driven down to the mat. She laughed, breathlessly, at the sound the choked cry Dixie gave as she fell, taking in every moment as she tried to regain control of the match. This moment, her showboating, crowd-favorite foe ground beneath her heel, was exactly what Doom had joined AFW to experience.

Despite the sudden rush, however, Doom was still struggling to regain her bearings. Battered, exhausted, sore and sweating, Doom had to rely on every ounce of energy she had left to keep herself driving forward. Seeing the cowgirl humbled, even just for a moment, gave Doom all the motivation she needed, even if her body couldn't take full advantage. Her gaze fixed solidly on Dixie's back, Doom raised an elbow and fell forward, trying to drive an elbow strike directly into the small of Dixie's back. She didn't have the strength for anything more than the most basic of moves, at the moment, but Doom would be damned if she wasn't going to take full advantage of the downed cowgirl.