The camera snapped to life, revealing the stark white walls of Knockoutman’s mat room, the blue mats stretching out like an endless sea. The air was thick with anticipation as Marie-Anne’s bare feet padded softly against the cold vinyl, her body a coil of restless energy. She paced like a caged animal, her flat stomach rising and falling with each ragged breath, arms wrapped tight around her torso as if trying to hold herself together. The silver Lycra crop top clung to her sweat-slicked skin, her breasts threatening to spill out with every sharp turn. Her high-cut thong bikini bottoms rode low on her hips, accentuating the narrow taper of her waist and the powerful flex of her thighs.
“Six-nine,” she hissed under her breath. “He’s six-fucking-nine and undefeated. That towering monster is not a man; he’s a fucking building with fists.”
She stopped abruptly, her eyes flicking to the curtain swaying in the wind. Her voice was a mere whisper, laced with terror. “How the hell am I supposed to survive that?”
Her anxiety morphed into sheer panic. Lips parted, breath unsteady, her ponytail swinging wildly with each spin on her heel. She was a vision of raw power—glistening, lean, dangerous—but her body was betraying her.
“He choked Kumiko out like a toy,” she muttered, pacing faster now, her voice a low growl. “Didn’t even let her get one hit in... just crushed her... played with her like she was nothing.”
Her voice cracked as the haunting memories surfaced. “Montana was screaming before he finished with her. He didn’t just beat her—he broke her. Piece by fucking piece... smiling while she begged.”
Marie-Anne stopped at the edge of the mat, clenching her fists so tight her knuckles turned white.
“And Raya…” she whispered, her voice shaking. “God, he enjoyed it. Like he got off on every fucking scream she made. He dragged her around like a piece of meat…”
The sudden echo of bare feet slapping the mat behind her snapped her out of her trance. She turned sharply, and the moment her eyes landed on the figure entering the room, her breath caught in her throat.
Callie Morgan stepped lightly onto the mat, her bare feet pressing into the vinyl as she strode into the room. Callie wasn’t Marie-Anne’s savior. She was a vision of raw, unadulterated sex. Her referee top was a black and white halter-style that stretched tight across her heaving chest, her full, round breasts straining against the fabric with every breath. The deep neckline left no room for imagination. Her bronzed skin glowed beneath the overhead light, and her black string thong bikini bottoms clung to her hips, hugging her like a second skin. Her long dark hair spilled over her shoulders in soft waves, and her sultry eyes flicked toward Marie-Anne, taking in the sight of her competitor.
Marie-Anne let her gaze rake up Callie’s form, momentarily distracted from her own fear. “Are you the ref for my match?” Her voice was hoarse, her throat dry.
Callie gave a slow, knowing nod, her lips curling into a faint smile. She stopped just at the edge of the mat, arms crossing beneath her chest, pushing up the curve of her breasts with a casual dominance. A soft smirk touched her lips as she nodded, confirming that yes, in fact, she was the ref for Marie-Anne’s match.
Callie did not need to speak to command attention; her body did that for her. Every inch of her radiated authority disguised as temptation.
Marie-Anne let out a soft exhale, a crazed chuckle escaping her lips as relief washed over her, replacing some of the fear with a dark, twisted hope. “Oh… That’s fantastic news.” She licked her lips, her expression changing to one of almost delight. “I was spiraling, thinking I was walking into a slaughterhouse, but you? Knowing you’re the one officiating this? It gives me… hope. Maybe someone will actually stop that fucking monster before he tries to break me limb from limb like he has done with all the others.”
Callie’s expression darkened as she thought of the last match she had seen, where Smallz had systematically torn down Jocelyn Satin. Shaking off that fear, she chuckled—a low, throaty laugh that oozed confidence and danger. “Don’t get too comfortable,” she purred. “I’m only here to make sure things don’t get too crazy. That’s it. You know, keep things fair.”
Marie-Anne tilted her head, her eyes narrowing into slits. A sly grin crept across her face. “Mmm,” she hummed, stepping closer, close enough to feel Callie’s breath on her skin. “But what if I wanted more than just a fair match?”
Callie raised a brow, amused but intrigued. “What’re you getting at?”
Marie-Anne didn’t answer. She leaned in, her lips brushing against the shell of Callie’s ear. Her voice dropped to a seductive whisper, inaudible to anyone else but Callie as the camera stayed steady on the pair as Marie-Anne elaborated on her plan.
Callie’s smirk widened, and her expression shifted to something darker, more complicit. She nodded slowly with every word Marie-Anne whispered into her ear.
Marie-Anne's hand moved deliberately. She reached down between her cleavage and pulled out a thick wad of folded cash, her fingers teasing the edge before she slid it down the front of Callie's bikini bottoms. The bills disappeared beneath the thin fabric, nestled between bare skin and black string. Then, without breaking eye contact, Marie-Anne gave Callie's ass a firm, open-palmed slap—smack—leaving a red mark blooming against bronzed skin. “This should be more than enough,” she said, her voice husky, her lips barely suppressing a wicked grin. Callie didn't flinch. She just grinned back—slow, sultry, and silent.
The deal, a dark and tantalizing secret, seemed to drain some of the icy fear from Marie-Anne's veins, replacing it with a heady mix of anticipation and renewed confidence. She turned on her heels, her voice a sultry purr as she said, "You're the best, Callie. I'm going to get ready for the match. I feel so much better now."
The camera steadied on Marie-Anne's retreating form, her hips swaying with an intoxicating rhythm as she walked away. Her ass cheeks, barely contained by the thin fabric of her high-cut bottoms, moved with a hypnotic sway, each step a testament to her newfound confidence. The knowledge that she had a secret weapon, a deal made in the shadows, gave her a slight pep in her step as she exited the room, leaving a trail of anticipation and desire in her wake.
The camera then shifted to Callie, who stood alone in the mat room, her eyes gleaming with a mix of excitement and greed. She reached down, her fingers hooking into the waistband of her black string thong, and slowly pulled out the wad of cash that Marie-Anne had slipped into her crotch. The crisp 100-dollar bills were a tantalizing promise, a secret between two powerful women. Callie's eyes gleamed with delight as she sifted through the money, counting it with a slow, deliberate motion. Her lips curled into a wicked smile, a silent promise of the pleasure and power that this deal would bring.
The scene fades out on Callie, her fingers dancing through the crisp bills, a smug smile playing on her lips as she savors the power and pleasure that the money represents. The room is a charged with a dark, erotic energy, a silent promise of the intensity that is to come.
The camera cuts back to the mat room, now transformed into a arena of combat, the blue mats stretching out like a battlefield. The air is thick with anticipation, the scent of sweat and desire hanging heavy. Callie is already on the mats, leaning against the wall at the back of the room, her presence commanding and confident. Her black and white halter-style referee top clings to her heaving chest, as the nipples of her breast stand erect straining the fabric of the top, the deep neckline accentuating the swell of her full, round breasts, her bronzed skin glowing under the harsh lights. Her black string thong bikini bottoms hug her hips, the thin frontal part of the thong barely covering her privates, as it clear that resting behind the fabric is a neatly trimmed pubic area. Her long, dark hair cascades over her shoulders in soft waves, and her sultry eyes are fixed on the entrance, a mix of excitement and dominance in her gaze.
Heaven, the camera operator, is a disembodied voice from behind the lens, her words a sultry purr that adds to the erotic tension in the room. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Knockoutman's World. Today we have a hell of a match lined up for you. Let me introduce Marie-Anne!"
The curtains sway dramatically as Marie-Anne makes her entrance, a vision of power and grace. She steps onto the mat, her bare feet padding softly against the cool vinyl, her body a symphony of lean muscle and raw strength. Her silver Lycra crop top clings to her skin lit might be painted on, her perky breasts threatening to spill out with every step. Her high-cut thong bikini bottoms ride low on her hips, accentuating the thin, narrow taper of her waist and the powerful flex of her thighs. Her flat stomach rises and falls with each breath, a testament to her nervous energy and anticipation of the appending competitor she is about to face. Her long, toned legs are a vision of beauty as she makes her way onto the mats.
Marie-Anne does a little shimmy for the camera, her hips swaying with a hypnotic rhythm as she flexes her muscles, trying to psyche herself up for the battle ahead. Her eyes are fierce, her jaw set in determination, but there's a underlying current of fear that adds to the intensity of the moment. She knows what she's up against, and she's ready to fight with every ounce of her being.
The camera pans between the two women, capturing the raw, unadulterated sex appeal that radiates from both. Callie, the confident and dominant referee, her body a temptation disguised as authority. Marie-Anne, the powerful and determined fighter, her body a weapon honed for battle.
Heaven's voice drops to a low, ominous growl, a stark contrast to her previous sultry tone. "And now, the man who needs no introduction, the beast who has left a trail of destruction in his wake, the undefeated, the unstoppable... Smallz!"
The curtain sweeps back with a dramatic flourish, and Smallz steps into the room, his towering frame casting a long, ominous shadow over the mats. The air grows colder, darker, as if his presence has sucked all the warmth and light from the room. He stands at 6'9", a colossal black man, his body a riot of muscles upon muscles, each one rippling with raw, unbridled power. His luchador mask, a vibrant splash of color against his dark skin, covers his face, leaving only his intense, burning eyes visible. Those eyes are a window to a primal, feral soul, a soul that craves destruction and domination.
His black elbow pads and knee pads glint menacingly under the lights, and his white basketball shorts hang loosely around his thick thighs, doing little to hide the sheer magnitude of his physique. His feet are encased in black, thigh-high boots, each one easily a size 15, leaving deep impressions in the mat as he walks. His 15-inch biceps are a thing of legend, veined and powerful, and his hands... his hands are massive, capable of crushing, of destroying, of leaving a lasting impression on any unfortunate soul that dares to cross his path.
Smallz walks straight towards Marie-Anne, his steps slow and deliberate, each one a thunderous echo in the silent room. He brushes past Callie, his massive shoulder nearly knocking her off balance. She stumbles slightly, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and awe as she catches herself, her hand pressing against the wall for support. The contact with his body leaves her feeling a mix of exhilaration and terror, a stark reminder of the raw power that resides within the beast.
Marie-Anne watches his approach, her breath catching in her throat as she takes in the sheer size and power of the man before her. Her body tenses, and she can feel the blood draining from her face as she stares into the eyes of the monster she has been dreading. The memories of his past victories, of the women he has broken and destroyed, flood her mind, and she can feel her resolve wavering in the face of such an imposing figure.
The room is charged with a dark, electric energy, a palpable sense of danger and anticipation. Smallz's presence is overwhelming, his dominance a tangible force that seems to press down on both women, leaving them breathless and awestruck. He lets out a low, guttural growl, a sound that seems to resonate from the very depths of his soul, a primal, terrifying noise that sends shivers down their spines.
He circles Marie-Anne like a predator, his massive hands flexing, knuckles cracking with each movement. His eyes never leave hers, his intent clear: he is here to dominate, to destroy, to leave his mark on the world. Marie-Anne stands her ground, her body trembling slightly but her eyes never wavering. She knows she has to face this beast, has to find a way to survive the monster before her.
The atmosphere is thick with tension, the air almost crackling with the raw, unadulterated power that Smallz exudes. The stage is set for a battle unlike any other, a clash of titans where only one will emerge victorious.
Callie, her voice barely above a whisper, steps forward with outstretched hands, her palms facing the two fighters as if to push them apart. "Separate," she says, her voice trembling slightly. "Wait for the start of the match."
Heaven's voice, disembodied and sultry, echoes from behind the camera, laying out the rules of the contest. "Today we have a spectacle of match between two formidable opponents. Marie-Anne!"
Callie gestures towards Marie-Anne, her hand shaking slightly as she points. Marie-Anne turns to the camera, a small, forced smile on her lips, her eyes betraying the fear that grips her heart. She tries to project confidence, but the tremor in her voice is unmistakable. "I'm ready," she says, her words a stark contrast to the terror in her eyes.
Heaven's voice lowered to a menacing rumble, as she introduces the second contestant. "And her opponent, the unstoppable... Smallz!"
Callie gestures towards Smallz, her hand trembling as she points. Smallz doesn't acknowledge the camera, his focus solely on Marie-Anne. He takes a step forward, his massive frame dominating the space, and makes a cutting motion with his hand across his throat. A menacing growl rumbles from his chest, a promise of the destruction to come. He flexes his other arm, his 15-inch bicep bulging with power, and points at Marie-Anne, giving a thumbs-down motion. The message is clear: he is going to tear her apart, to dominate and destroy her without mercy.
Heaven's voice is a low, seductive purr as she explains the rules. "And these two will be in a 15-minute, no-holds-barred, pin-count-only match. Meaning the only way to win this match is by pinfall. No submissions, no tap outs, just pure, high octane intense combat until one fighter is unable to continue, and pinned for a ten count pin."
The camera captures every emotion, every flicker of fear and determination on the fighters' faces. Marie-Anne watches Smallz's gestures, her eyes widening in terror. The forced smile fades from her lips, replaced by a look of pure, unadulterated fear. She knows what she's up against, and she knows that she's in for the fight of her life.
The room is a cauldron of tension, the air thick with anticipation and the scent of sweat and desire. The mat seems to absorb the weight of the moment, the blue vinyl a stark contrast to the dark, gritty reality of the battle about to unfold. Callie steps back, her eyes wide as she takes in the two fighters, her role as referee suddenly feeling very small in the face of such raw, unbridled power.
Marie-Anne takes a deep breath, trying to steel herself for the battle ahead. She knows she has to find her inner strength, to tap into the well of determination that lies within her. But as she looks into the eyes of the beast before her, she can't help but feel a shiver of fear run down her spine.
Heaven's voice booms from behind the camera, her countdown a stark, ominous beat. "3... 2... 1... Wrestle!"
The instant the command leaves Heaven's lips, Smallz springs into action. His massive arms extend, hands reaching out like claws as he lunges for Marie-Anne. She reacts with lightning reflexes, ducking under his grasp and darting to the other side of the room. Smallz turns with a growl that echoes through the mat room, a primal, enraged sound that sends shivers down Marie-Anne's spine. His hands miss her by inches, the whip of her ponytail teasing his fingers as she evades his grasp.
Marie-Anne's initial look of fear begins to morph into something else as she realizes she might have a chance. Her agility and quickness could be her key to survival. As Smallz turns to face her again, she seizes the opportunity, delivering a solid kick to his shin. The impact is deafening, the sound of her foot connecting with his bone a sharp crack that echoes through the room. For a moment, there's a glimmer of hope in her eyes, a belief that she might be able to take him down.
But Smallz barely flinches. If anything, the kick seems to fuel his rage, his eyes burning with an even more intense ferocity behind his mask. He lets out another growl, a promise of the pain to come. Marie-Anne, however, pays a price for her bold move. Her foot spasms from the impact, the throbbing pain shooting up her leg as if she had kicked a brick wall. She stumbles slightly, her confidence wavering as she realizes the true extent of Smallz's durability.
The camera captures the swift shift in Marie-Anne's expression, from a smile of triumph as she lands her kick, to a mask of pure horror as she realizes the kick has barely phased Smallz. The beast of a man charges at her again, his movements swift and predatory. Marie-Anne tries to evade, but her injured foot slows her down, and she can barely escape his grasping hands.
She turns to face him, attempting to capitalize on her momentum with a powerful punch aimed at his face. But Smallz is already there, his reflexes lightning-fast. He catches her fist mid-strike, his massive hand clamping down on hers with an iron grip. He forces her arm up and over her shoulder, wrenching it behind her back. Marie-Anne freezes, shock and pain etched on her face as she realizes the extent of his strength and speed.
Smallz releases her hand only to spin around and deliver a devastating spinning back fist. The punch connects squarely with Marie-Anne's jaw, the force of the blow snapping her head back with a sickening crack. The impact is sudden and brutal, causing immediate pain and disorientation. Marie-Anne staggers back, her hands flying to her face, tears welling up in her eyes as the room swims before her.
"Fuck!" Callie exclaims from her position at the side of the mat, her hands covering her own face in shock. The force of the blow sends shivers down her spine, and she can't help but feel a mix of awe and terror at the raw power Smallz possesses. "How the fuck is Marie-Anne going to survive this?" she whispers to herself, her voice barely audible over the ringing in Marie-Anne's ears.
Marie-Anne sways on her feet, her vision blurry and her jaw throbbing with a sharp, pulsating pain. She can feel the imprint of Smallz's fist on her face, the area around her jaw already beginning to swell. She rubs at the point of impact, wincing as the touch sends waves of pain radiating through her face. The room is a haze, her senses overwhelmed by the force of the blow.
Smallz, relentless and uncaring of Marie-Anne's pain, reaches out and grabs a handful of her hair, yanking her head back to expose her throat. He prepares to deliver another devastating blow, his intent clear in the brutal glint of his eyes.
Callie, from her position near the wall, finds her voice and shouts, "No hair pulling!" Her voice is timid, a mere whisper of authority compared to the raw power on display. Smallz pauses, turning to look at her with a mix of confusion and disdain. He releases Marie-Anne's hair, taking a step towards Callie, his massive frame dominating the space between them. Callie quivers, taking a step back and pressing herself against the wall, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and awe. She doesn't want to be on the receiving end of his wrath.
Smallz turns his attention back to Marie-Anne, his eyes burning with intensity. He wraps his arms around her, encircling her neck in a front headlock. His massive biceps compress her trachea and carotid arteries, cutting off the oxygen flow to her brain. Marie-Anne's eyes widen in panic as she realizes the dire situation she's in. She gasps for air, her hands flying to his arms, trying desperately to pry them off or create enough space to breathe.
Smallz maneuvers Marie-Anne to the middle of the mat, his steps slow and deliberate, each one a testament to his dominance and control. Marie-Anne's feet stumble to keep up, her body bent at the waist as she struggles to find her footing and relieve the pressure on her neck. Her face is turning red, then purple, as the lack of oxygen takes its toll. She can feel the world starting to spin, her vision tunneling as she fights to stay conscious.
The room is a symphony of grunts and strained breaths, the air thick with tension and the scent of sweat and desperation.
The camera lingers on Marie-Anne, her body bent at the waist, her ass cheeks barely contained by the thin material of her thong, which has ridden up, exposing more of her flesh. She is a picture of desperation, her body tensed and straining as she clutches at Smallz's arm, trying to pry it loose from around her neck. Her face is a mask of agony, her eyes wide with terror as she lets out an exasperated gurgle, "Arg...ummph...owww, let go!"
Smallz, unyielding and implacable, cranks down further on the headlock, his bicep like a vice around her neck. Marie-Anne's struggles become more frantic, her nails digging into his arm as she tries to relieve the pressure. Her heart hammers in her chest, a wild, frantic rhythm of terror. She can feel the power radiating from his body, the coiled strength ready to strike at any moment.
Her inner dialogue is a chaotic symphony of panic and desperation. "No, how did I let him get me?" she thinks, her voice a whimper in her mind. "I've got to get out of this hold. I can't let him break me like the others."
But Smallz has other plans. With a grunted roar, he delivers a sharp slap to the back of her head, driving her face-first into the mat with a snap DDT. The move is executed with brutal precision, using Marie-Anne's own momentum against her. Her neck cracks in a sickening way, the sound echoing through the room like a death knell. A guttural scream tears from her throat, a raw, primal sound of agony, "Fuck...arhh!"
The impact is devastating. Marie-Anne's skull takes the brunt of the force, the disgusting crunch of bone on mat echoing through the room. Her body stiffens, her feet and legs shooting up behind her head as she is vertically inverted for a split second, motionless and stunned. The pain is immediate and overwhelming, shooting through every pore of her body like a wildfire. Her vision explodes into a kaleidoscope of stars and darkness, her body convulsing as she tries to process the sheer intensity of the agony.
"Make it stop," she begs her mind, her thoughts fragmented, her body writhing in torment. "Please, make it stop." But the pain doesn't subside. It radiates through her, a living, breathing entity, consuming her. She can feel the mat beneath her, hard and unforgiving, as the rest of her body collides with the ground. She shimmies away from Smallz, clutching her head in torment, her breaths coming in shallow, ragged gasps.
Smallz's execution of the snap DDT was flawless. He used his weight and leverage to maximize the impact, ensuring that every ounce of force was transferred into the mat, and through it, into Marie-Anne's skull. Her inner dialogue fades into incoherent ramblings, her mind unable to process the sheer intensity of the pain. She lies motionless on the mat, her hands pressed to her face as she tries to regain feeling in her nerves, her body refusing to cooperate with her own inner desires.
The camera whips to Callie, her face a mask of shock and horror as she watches Smallz execute the devastating DDT. "Oh my fucking God," she cries out, "did he just implant her skull into the mat? Fuck, ouch!" She clutches her own head as if she can feel the pain Marie-Anne is enduring, her eyes wide with a mix of awe and terror.
The camera then cuts back to Smallz, standing triumphant over Marie-Anne's sprawled form. His eyes gleam with a savage glee, knowing that the onslaught has only just begun. Marie-Anne squirms on the mat, trying to regain her bearings and put some distance between herself and the monster, but Smallz is relentless. He reaches down and grabs a handful of her hair, yanking her to her feet with a brutal efficiency.
Callie, her voice soft and timid, directs him, "I said no hair pulling." But Smallz merely gestures with his free hand for her to shoo away, continuing to pull Marie-Anne up. Callie swallows hard, finding a bit more firmness in her voice as she repeats, "Let go of her hair!"
This time, Smallz complies, turning his attention fully to Callie as he releases Marie-Anne's hair. Callie backs up, her heart pounding as Smallz advances on her, his steps slow and deliberate. He growls in her face, the sound a primal, terrifying noise that sends shivers down her spine. She can feel his hot breath on her skin, can see the pure, unadulterated dominance in his eyes.
Suddenly, Smallz spins on his heels and explodes into a sprint towards Marie-Anne, who is still dazed and unsteady on her feet. She doesn't even register his approach, her hands still clutching her head from the impact of the DDT. It's a predator-prey moment, Smallz low to the ground, driving through his hips and legs, his head up, eyes locked onto his target.
Marie-Anne's world had been reduced to a symphony of agony, each nerve ending screaming in protest as her body reacted to the devastating impact. She lay sprawled on the mat, her mind a blur of pain and confusion, trying to process the sheer force of what had just happened.
"What was that crack sound?" she thought, her mind racing. "That sound. Not from the outside—no, not the mat, not the air. That sound came from inside me." Her thoughts were a jumbled mess, a chaotic symphony of pain and disbelief. It was as if something had snapped, torn, or shattered within her, and she couldn't even begin to comprehend the extent of the damage.
Her lungs refused to cooperate, each breath a labored, painful struggle. Her ribs felt like they had collapsed in on themselves, a broken cage unable to expand and contract with her breathing. The moment Smallz's shoulder had impaled her, the world had ceased to exist. There had been no time to react, no time to defend. Just a brutal, unforgiving impact that had lifted her off the ground and sent her crashing back down to the mat.
"BOOM."
The echo of that impact reverberated through her mind, a relentless reminder of the force that had been unleashed upon her. She lay there, every inch of her body throbbing with a pain that bloomed outward like a thousand little explosions. Her vision swam, dots of light dancing before her eyes, each breath a war against her own body.
"Fuck… fuck… I can’t move. What the hell did he do to me?" Her mind spiraled, each thought foggy and panicked. She felt something warm trickling at the corner of her mouth—drool, blood, who knows, she had no control of her body at the moment. Definitely some kind of fluid was oozing out the corner of her mouth. Her body spasmed involuntarily beneath the crushing weight of Smallz, his 230 pounds of punishment straddling her hips, pressing her spine into the canvas as if he intended to merge her with the mat itself.
Her legs twitched beneath him, a futile attempt to escape the dominance of his presence. She couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but lie there and endure the agony. Her vision swam, her breaths coming in broken, ragged gasps. She could barely lift her head, but she felt him looming over her, his presence a heavy, oppressive force that needed no words to convey its dominance.
Marie-Anne's cracked lips moved, her voice barely more than a strangled whimper: "Ghhkk—ahh… n-no—get… off…" Her breath hitched in broken sobs, each word a battle against the pain that consumed her. Her hands weakly pawed at his thighs, not in resistance but in pure instinct, her body still hoping for a way out even as her mind knew the futility of her situation.
"F-fuck… can’t… breathe… Smallz…" A wet cough racked her body, more liquid spilling from her lips. "Y-you… bastard… s-split me in half…" Each syllable was a battle, her voice shredded and raw, full of disbelief and terror.
She had no idea how long she'd been on the mat. Seconds? Minutes? It felt like an eternity of endless agony. Her thoughts blurred again, spiraling into a vortex of fear and desperation. She was at his mercy, a plaything for his dominance, and she knew that the night was far from over. The true extent of her suffering was yet to be revealed, and with each passing second, she could feel her strength ebbing away, leaving her a broken, helpless shell on the mat.
As he closes the distance, Smallz lowers his center of gravity, lining up his shoulder with Marie-Anne's exposed midsection. In the last split second, he plants his feet, coils his body, and throws himself forward like a missile. His shoulder connects with Marie-Anne's torso, the impact brutal and unforgiving. He wraps his arms around her waist, using the momentum to drive her backward.
Marie-Anne is lifted off her feet, her upper body whipping backward, her legs shooting up as Smallz's momentum carries them both to the mat. The 230 pounds of Smallz land on top of her with a sickening thud, the force of the impact driving the air from her lungs. The spear is brutal, almost splitting Marie-Anne in half as they crash to the mat, Smallz's weight pinning her down.
Marie-Anne lets out a guttural scream, a raw, primal sound of agony as the wind is knocked clean out of her. She can feel the crushing weight of Smallz on top of her, the pain radiating through her body like a wildfire. Her vision swims, her mind reeling from the sheer intensity of the impact. She can taste blood in her mouth, can feel the wetness of it on her lips as she tries to draw in a ragged breath.
The room is a symphony of grunts and strained breaths, the air thick with the scent of sweat, blood, and the metallic tang of pain. Smallz, straddling Marie-Anne, looks down at his handiwork, a savage smile playing on his lips behind the mask. He knows he has her where he wants her, and the night of torture and domination is just beginning.
Marie-Anne's world had been reduced to a symphony of agony, each nerve ending screaming in protest as her body reacted to the devastating impact. She lay sprawled on the mat, her mind a blur of pain and confusion, trying to process the sheer force of what had just happened.
"What was that crack sound?" she thought, her mind racing. "That sound. Not from the outside—no, not the mat, not the air. That sound came from inside me." Her thoughts were a jumbled mess, a chaotic symphony of pain and disbelief. It was as if something had snapped, torn, or shattered within her, and she couldn't even begin to comprehend the extent of the damage.
Her lungs refused to cooperate, each breath a labored, painful struggle. Her ribs felt like they had collapsed in on themselves, a broken cage unable to expand and contract with her breathing. The moment Smallz's shoulder had impaled her, the world had ceased to exist. There had been no time to react, no time to defend. Just a brutal, unforgiving impact that had lifted her off the ground and sent her crashing back down to the mat.
"BOOM."
The echo of that impact reverberated through her mind, a relentless reminder of the force that had been unleashed upon her. She lay there, every inch of her body throbbing with a pain that bloomed outward like a thousand little explosions. Her vision swam, dots of light dancing before her eyes, each breath a war against her own body.
"Fuck… fuck… I can’t move. What the hell did he do to me?" Her mind spiraled, each thought foggy and panicked. She felt something warm trickling at the corner of her mouth—drool, blood, who knows, she had no control of her body at the moment. Definitely some kind of fluid was oozing out the corner of her mouth. Her body spasmed involuntarily beneath the crushing weight of Smallz, his 230 pounds of punishment straddling her hips, pressing her spine into the canvas as if he intended to merge her with the mat itself.
Her legs twitched beneath him, a futile attempt to escape the dominance of his presence. She couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but lie there and endure the agony. Her vision swam, her breaths coming in broken, ragged gasps. She could barely lift her head, but she felt him looming over her, his presence a heavy, oppressive force that needed no words to convey its dominance.
Marie-Anne's cracked lips moved, her voice barely more than a strangled whimper: "Ghhkk—ahh… n-no—get… off…" Her breath hitched in broken sobs, each word a battle against the pain that consumed her. Her hands weakly pawed at his thighs, not in resistance but in pure instinct, her body still hoping for a way out even as her mind knew the futility of her situation.
"F-fuck… can’t… breathe… Smallz…" A wet cough racked her body, more liquid spilling from her lips. "Y-you… bastard… s-split me in half…" Each syllable was a battle, her voice shredded and raw, full of disbelief and terror.
She had no idea how long she'd been on the mat. Seconds? Minutes? It felt like an eternity of endless agony. Her thoughts blurred again, spiraling into a vortex of fear and desperation. She was at his mercy, a plaything for his dominance, and she knew that the night was far from over. The true extent of her suffering was yet to be revealed, and with each passing second, she could feel her strength ebbing away, leaving her a broken, helpless shell on the mat.
Smallz, straddling Marie-Anne's hips, leans down and delivers a sharp smack to her face, not hard enough to cause serious damage, but firm enough to snap her senses back to reality. He wants her awake and aware for what's to come, his sadistic nature craving her consciousness as he delivers his next round of torture.
"Hmmmmmmmmmmm," Smallz chuckles, a deep, amused, and sick sound that rumbles from his chest, sending shivers down Marie-Anne's spine. It's a sound that promises pain and dominance, a chilling symphony of his enjoyment in her suffering.
He then places his massive hands on her temples, his fingers splaying wide, almost completely covering her face. His thumbs press into her cheeks, his fingers wrapping around the back of her skull, as he applies pressure, initiating a temple-crushing nerve hold. Marie-Anne spasms beneath him, her body betraying her as she tries to resist the inevitable. Her hands, trapped at her sides, feebly paw at his thighs, her nails digging in, trying to find purchase, trying to push him off, but it's no use. He's a mountain of muscle, immovable and dominant.
Smallz's hands squeeze, and Marie-Anne's senses begin to ebb away. The room starts to become hazy, her vision tunneling as she feels herself slipping into the darkness of unconsciousness. She can feel the pressure building in her head, a crushing, unbearable force that threatens to shatter her skull. Her struggles grow weaker, her body growing limp as she succumbs to the brutal hold.
"N-no... please... don't..." she whimpers, her voice a mere shadow of its former self, a pathetic plea for mercy that falls on deaf ears. Smallz merely chuckles again, a low, cruel sound that echoes in her mind as she drifts into the abyss.
Her eyes flutter, trying to focus on his face, but it's no use. The world is fading to black, and she can feel the last of her strength leaving her body. Her hands fall away from his thighs, her arms dropping to her sides, her body going limp as she passes out, her consciousness fading like a dying ember.
Smallz, satisfied with his handiwork, releases his grip, a wicked smile playing on his lips behind the mask. He knows he has her right where he wants her, and the night of torture and domination is far from over. He stands up, towering over her prone form, his chest heaving with anticipation as he prepares for the next round of brutality.
The room is a symphony of brutality as Smallz stands towering over Marie-Anne's prone form, his eyes gleaming with a savage intensity. He grunts, a deep, primal sound, as he delivers a bone-crushing stomp to Marie-Anne's exposed midsection. The impact is deafening, the sound of his boot connecting with her flesh echoing through the room like a thunderclap.
Marie-Anne's eyes snap open, her body jolting back to reality as a ear-shattering scream of agony tears from her throat. "Arghhhh...ummphh....owww......" she cries out, her hands instinctively flying to protect her midsection, trying to soothe the sudden, explosive pain that radiates through her body.
But Smallz is relentless. He delivers a second stomp, his boot crashing down onto almost the exact same spot as before. This time, not only does he crush her midsection, but her hands, which were there trying to protect her, also bear the brunt of his force. Marie-Anne's body reacts violently, her legs shooting up for a split second as a huge rush of air is driven out of her diaphragm, her back arching off the mat in a futile attempt to escape the agony.
She moves her hands away, cradling them to her chest as they throb with a fiery, excruciating pain. She attempts to curl away into a fetal position, her body trembling and convulsing as she tries to protect herself from further damage. But Smallz is not done. Before she can even begin to move, he delivers one more brutal stomp to her midsection, grinding his boot into her flesh as if trying to flatten her into the mat.
This third stomp is more brutal than the previous ones, a final, crushing blow that sends the last remaining breath of air rushing from her lungs. Marie-Anne's face contorts in agony, her eyes wide with shock and pain as a guttural, silent scream escapes her lips, "ooumphhh." Her body goes limp, her arms falling to her sides, her legs splaying out as she lies there, a broken, helpless shell on the mat.
Smallz stands over her, his chest heaving with exertion, a cruel, satisfied smile playing on his lips behind the mask. He knows he has broken her, has reduced her to a quivering, pathetic mess.
The camera zooms in on Marie-Anne's face, capturing every contour, every line etched with pain and anguish. Her eyes stare blankly up at the ceiling, unseeing, her mouth agape in a silent scream. The camera pans out, revealing Smallz standing triumphant over her, his massive frame flexing with each breath, his muscles rippling like a living, breathing work of art. Each movement causes his pecs to bounce up and down, a testament to his raw, unbridled power.
He reaches down, his massive hand wrapping around Marie-Anne's throat with a grip like a vice. He pulls her up off the mat, her body dangling limply in his grasp. Marie-Anne lets out a fearful, grunted cry, her breaths coming in short, coughing gasps. "Mmphhh....help....ghunkk...me...Stop....please," she pleads, her eyes wide with terror as she searches the room for someone, anyone, to come to her aid.
Callie, hearing Marie-Anne's cries, takes a step forward, her heart aching with a mix of pity and fear. She wants to help, to intervene, but the thought of pissing off Smallz and experiencing the same brutal punishment sends a shiver of terror down her spine. She hesitates, her feet rooted to the spot as she watches the unfolding nightmare.
Smallz stands full erect, Marie-Anne now on her tiptoes, her hands clutching at his wrist, trying desperately to pry his fingers from her throat. He rebases himself, his massive frame tensing as he prepares for his next move. With a guttural grunt, he lifts Marie-Anne one-handed into the air by the throat, her body dangling like a ragdoll, her limbs flailing wildly as she tries to escape his grip.
He parades her around the room, his steps slow and deliberate, a cruel, dominant smile playing on his lips behind the mask. Marie-Anne's eyes are wide with fear, her body trembling as she knows that what goes up must come down. Her limbs flail, her feet kicking, her hands scratching at his arm, trying to free herself from his iron grip.
Suddenly, Smallz shifts his weight, his body coiling like a spring. He drives Marie-Anne down towards the mat, her body crashing back-first with a sickening thud as he performs a brutal one-handed chokeslam. He drops to one knee, using his body weight to drive her into the mat, the impact shaking the very foundations of the room.
Marie-Anne's body goes limp, her arms falling to her sides, her legs splaying out as she lies there, a broken, helpless shell on the mat. Her eyes are closed, her chest rising and falling in shallow, ragged breaths, a testament to the sheer brutality she has just endured. Smallz stands up, towering over her, his chest heaving with exertion, a look of pure, unadulterated dominance on his face.
Smallz, standing victorious over Marie-Anne's prone form, knows that she is finished. The choke slam has taken its toll, and she lies motionless on the mat, her body a broken puppet with severed strings. He looks over at Callie, motioning for her to come and count the pin, a cruel smirk playing on his lips behind the mask.
He shifts his position, straddling over Marie-Anne's head, his massive thighs pinning her shoulders to the mat. He reaches forward, his hands wrapping around Marie-Anne's ankles like steel bands. With a slow, deliberate motion, he pulls her feet and legs back and over her head, exposing her ass to the camera in a humiliating display of dominance. The camera captures the pin as it zooms on Marie-Anne's ass with the thin material of her thong panties disappearing between her cheeks, the angle emphasizing the sheer power and control Smallz exerts over his defeated opponent.
Callie steps up from behind, her heart pounding in her chest as she positions herself next to them. She takes a deep breath, her voice steady as she begins to count, her hand slapping the mat with each number, the sound echoing through the room like a death knell. "1....2....3...."
Smallz flexes, his muscles rippling as he holds Marie-Anne in place, knowing that there is no way she can kick out of the hold. He is the embodiment of dominance, a beast reveling in his victory.
But as Callie reaches 9, her nerve finally gets the better of her. She remembers the deal she made with Marie-Anne, the promise that she needed to find a way for Marie-Anne to win. With a sudden burst of speed, she stops the count and pounces onto Smallz's back, her arms wrapping around his neck in a tight sleeper hold. her legs wrapping around his waist.
Smallz grunts, his body tensing as he feels the sudden pressure around his neck and Callie on his back.
The room is a chaos of motion and sound as Smallz, crouched over Marie-Anne with her ankles pinned above her head, suddenly feels the weight of Callie on his back. His hands, which were securely holding Marie-Anne's ankles, shoot up, grasping at thin air as he tries to dislodge the unexpected attacker. Callie's arms are locked tightly around his neck, her legs wrapped around his waist, holding on for dear life.
"What the fuck... am I doing...if this hold doesn't work...this monster could kill me... no amount of money is worth dying for," Callie thinks, her mind a whirlwind of panic and determination as Smallz begins to straighten himself upright, attempting to buck her off.
Callie sinks her hold further, her ankles hooked tightly around his waist, ensuring she doesn't budge. Smallz's struggles become more frantic, his breaths coming in heavy, labored gasps as he tries to pry her off. But Callie holds on, her resolve strengthening as she feels him starting to weaken.
"Oh shit, am I going to be the one finally take down Smallz!" she exclaims, her voice a mix of excitement and disbelief. But her moment of triumph is short-lived.
With a final, desperate surge of strength, Smallz turns his back to the wall. Using every ounce of his remaining power, he throws himself backward, slamming Callie between his body and the solid surface. The impact is deafening, the sound of their bodies colliding with the wall echoing through the room like a thunderclap.
Callie lets out a scream of agony, "Arggghhh....Shit....Nooo!" as the force of the impact drives the air from her lungs, the pain exploding through her body like a supernova. The sudden, brutal force of being sandwiched between Smallz and the wall causes her to loosen her hold, her arms falling away from his neck as she tries to absorb the shock of the impact.
But Smallz, sensing her hold weakening, doesn't let up. He drives them back into the wall a second time, the force of the second impact causing Callie to release her hold completely. She slides off his back, her body crumpling to the ground in a heap of pain and defeat.
Smallz turns to face her, his chest heaving, his eyes burning with a mix of rage and triumph. He knows he has won, that he has broken not one, but two opponents tonight. And as he stands there, towering over their prone forms, he lets out a low, triumphant growl, a sound that echoes through the room like the roar of a victorious beast.
Smallz, his breath ragged and heavy, turns to face Callie, his eyes ablaze with a fierce mix of rage and triumph. Callie's legs feel like jelly, her vision swimming as she struggles to stay upright, her body sagging under the weight of the pain and exhaustion. Just as her legs are about to give out, Smallz's massive hand shoots out, grasping her chin with a force that borders on brutal. His thumb presses under her jaw, his fingers wrapping around the sides of her face, tilting her head up so that her eyes are locked onto his.
The grip is firm, unyielding, a clear message that he is in control. Callie feels the strength in his hand, the power he exerts with ease, and she knows that her suffering is far from over. Smallz holds her there for a few seconds, ensuring that she understands the gravity of her situation, keeping her upright but barely.
His free hand snaps to Callie's scalp, fingers tangling in her long, dark locks. With a sudden, sharp, and vicious tug, he yanks her head back, forcing her torso upright. Callie's legs are jerked into a standing position, her spine stretched in an unnatural line, arching her back against the wall. Her shoulder blades slam against the hard surface, scraping the skin as she is held in place. The small of her back grinds against the wall, the pressure intense and unforgiving.
Callie's neck is yanked back, exposing her throat in a vulnerable display. Her nipples press against the thin fabric of her black and white referee bikini, straining forward as her chest heaves with each ragged breath. Smallz looks down at her, his eyes lighting up with a savage glee as he takes in her pitiful sight. He savors the moment, a predator relishing the power he holds over his prey, knowing that he is in complete control.
Smallz, his grip on Callie's hair unyielding, tilts her face upward, forcing her to meet his gaze. His expression is a chilling blend of amusement and cruelty, like a butcher admiring his next victim. Callie's chest heaves with ragged, desperate breaths, her body weak and offering no resistance. She knows she's made a grave mistake and now her only hope is that Marie-Anne might wake up and save her.
With a sudden, fluid motion, Smallz draws his leg back and snaps his knee upward, driving it with brutal precision into the soft, exposed center of Callie's stomach, just below the ribcage. The impact is devastating, his knee burying itself deep into her solar plexus. "Guhhh...!" A wet, gasping burst of air explodes from her lungs, her mouth flying open as her eyes bulge in shock and agony. "F..fu...uckkkk…!" Her voice cracks, trembling and hollow, as the pain radiates through her entire body.
The force of the blow lifts her slightly off the ground, her feet leaving the mat for a split second before crashing back down. Her body spasms, bowing forward as she tries to curl in on herself, but Smallz's grip on her hair keeps her from crumpling to the ground. Her arms twitch and flail weakly at her sides, trying to find something to cling to, before moving to cover her midsection in a futile attempt to protect herself from further punishment. Her legs buckle inward, but she can't fall; Smallz is still holding her upright by the hair. Her chin drops to her chest, her mouth open, a soft choking sound escaping as her body struggles for air. She wheezes, ragged breaths that rattle like broken glass in her throat. A thin trail of drool slides from the corner of her lips, and her eyes begin to glaze over, caught somewhere between awareness and shock.
Delighted by her suffering, Smallz delivers a second knee to her stomach, and as she starts to slump down, he releases her hair, bends at the waist, and delivers an upward punch to her stomach, an uppercut that drives the remaining air from her lungs in a woosh of hot air, along with spit and drool. "Can’t… breathe…" she gasps weakly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry....please stop."
Smallz, however, is far from done. He grabs her face again, forcing her head and body back up so that her eyes can focus on him as she slowly regains her senses. The look of confusion and pain is etched deeply on her face. Callie is still slumped against the wall, barely upright, her chest rising and falling in ragged, shallow breaths. Her body trembles as it tries to reboot itself after the devastating knee strikes.
Then, with chilling indifference, Smallz shoves her deeper into the wall, his hand pressing into her chest, trapping her. The thud echoes as her back smacks against the wall again, a low groan escaping her throat. He turns and walks across the room, his steps slow and deliberate, echoing like a countdown to her doom. Each step is a moment of psychological torture, a reminder of the inevitable.
Callie sags where she stands, bent at the waist, hands braced on her thighs as she gasp-sobs for air. For a second, hope flickers maybe he's walking away, maybe she can escape. But the pain in her stomach and spine won't let go.
Callie is screaming at herself in her head "Move, come on, body respond get out of here now!" She thinks as she tries to find hope in escaping. "Oh my god, I can hear my own heart beat, no that's sound is not my heart, what is that sound?" Callie thinks as the sound of Smallz's boot echo of the mat, as he is running, fast, heavy and rhythmic, like a freight train barreling across steel.
Callie’s eyes shoot open, her voice cracking as she breathes, "Oh God…" She doesn’t even finish the thought. Because Smallz is sprinting full-speed, the floor shaking with each step. Arms pumping, body low to the ground like a linebacker, he charges at her. His focus is laser-locked on her, and in that moment, Callie is nothing more than a target.
At the last possible second, just a heartbeat before contact, Smallz leaps into the air. His body forms a wide, terrifying shape arms spread, knees slightly bent. It’s a perfect, violent wall splash, using his entire body as a human weapon.
He slams into Callie, sandwiching her completely between his 230-pound mass and the unforgiving wall. Her body folds into the blow, ribs caving inward, breath ripped from her lungs again like a vacuum has sucked it out. A horrific wet crack follows whether it’s the wall, her ribs, or both is unclear.
"Aaahhhghg...Gknkkmm...gnkknkk...gmmmm!" Callie screams and a choke at the same time, as if her lungs don’t know whether to release or implode. Her eyes roll up for a second, her body twitching, then going slack as her knees buckle completely. She doesn’t fall because Smallz is still pressed against her, holding her up with the full weight of his body.
Her arms droop at her sides like broken cords. Her head lolls back and hits the wall, mouth open, a long string of spit dangling from her lips. "Ffff-fuhh…" is all she manages, her voice trailing off as she slips into a state of shock, her mind far removed from the agony of her body.
Her body shudders one more time, then slumps fully as Smallz finally steps back, letting her collapse like a ragdoll to the mat.
The camera cuts to a close-up of Callie’s crumpled body, slumped in a heap at the base of the wall, a smear of sweat and impact still visible where she was smashed. Smallz looms in the frame, breathing deep as he looks first at Callie, and then at Marie-Anne.
Smallz, standing triumphant over the fallen Callie, reaches down and grabs her by the leg, her body limp and unresponsive. He drags her across the mat, her form leaving a trail on the blue vinyl as he positions her next to Marie-Anne's prone body. With a grunt, he lifts Callie and places her on top of Marie-Anne, arranging them in a crude 69 position. Callie's crotch is pressed directly into Marie-Anne's face, and vice versa, their thin thong bikini bottoms leaving little to the imagination.
Callie's black and white halter-style referee top has ridden up, exposing her toned, sweat-slicked stomach and the thin string of her thong bikini bottoms. The tiny scrap of fabric is pulled taut, accentuating the curve of her ass and the thin line of her thong riding up her ass cheeks, making her ass look even more round and firm. Her pussy lips are visible, the thin material of her thong pressing into Marie-Anne's face, outlining her most intimate parts. Marie-Anne, similarly, wears a silver Lycra crop top and high-cut thong bikini bottoms, her ass cheeks barely contained by the thin fabric, her pussy lips visible as Callie's face is pressed into her crotch. Their bodies are slick with sweat, their skin glistening under the harsh lights of the mat room. The position they are in makes it look as if they are trying to eat each other's pussies, their faces buried in each other's crotches, their bodies entwined in a twisted, unconscious embrace.
Smallz growls, a deep, menacing sound that echoes through the room. He looks down at the two women, a cruel smile playing on his lips behind the mask. With a sudden, explosive movement, he launches himself into the air and comes crashing down on top of them, performing a brutal mat splash. His 230-pound frame drives Callie's body into Marie-Anne's, crushing them both beneath his weight.
The impact is deafening, the sound of their bodies hitting the mat echoing like a thunderclap. Callie and Marie-Anne's limbs jerk and twitch in response to the sudden, explosive pain, their bodies reacting from the shock of pain. The force of the splash brings them both back to reality, their senses returning with a rush of agony.
Marie-Anne is the first to react, a guttural moan escaping her lips as she becomes aware of the weight pressing down on her, the feel of Callie's crotch against her face, the taste of sweat and fabric in her mouth. She tries to move, to push Callie off, but her body is weak, her muscles unresponsive. Callie, meanwhile, stirs, her eyes fluttering open as she takes in the blurred vision of Marie-Anne's crotch pressed against her face. She lets out a soft, confused moan, her hands reaching up to push at Marie-Anne's thighs, trying to free herself from the awkward and humiliating position.
Smallz, relishing in the fact that they are now awake, grabs Callie first by the wrist, his massive hand encircling it completely, and pulls her up off Marie-Anne with ease. With his other hand, he grasps Marie-Anne by the wrist, his grip just as firm and unyielding. Both women are groggy, their bodies swaying slightly as they struggle to regain their bearings, their minds a blur of pain and confusion.
Callie's mind races with thoughts: "What the fuck is happening? My wrist feels like it's going to snap. I can barely stand, let alone think straight. What does he have planned for us now? I can't even lift my head, it feels like a thousand pounds. I just want this to be over."
Marie-Anne's mind is a whirlwind of panic: "My God, my wrist... it's on fire. I can't even process what's going on. I'm standing, but my legs feel like jelly. I can't focus, can't think. I just want to curl up and disappear. Why won't this nightmare end?"
Smallz positions them so that they are standing facing each other, with him in between, his arms stretched out, holding them at arm's length. He then, with a show of sheer force, brings his arms inwards, pulling the women towards each other with tremendous power. Callie and Marie-Anne, still groggy and unsteady on their feet, are propelled forward with a full head of steam, completely unaware of the impending collision.
Their bodies collide with a room-shattering smack, the force of the impact sending them stumbling backwards. They fall flat on their backs, the wind knocked out of them, their bodies writhing in agony. The room echoes with their guttural cries of pain, a symphony of suffering that speaks volumes about the brutality they have just endured.
Callie's thoughts turn to desperation: "Fuck! That hurt like a bitch. I can't breathe, can't move. Everything hurts. I just want to curl up and die. Why won't he just end this?"
Marie-Anne's mind is a blur of agony: "Oh God, the pain... it's unbearable. I can't move, can't think. I just want it to stop. Please, make it stop. I can't take any more."
The agony that rips through Callie and Marie-Anne is a brutal, all-consuming force that leaves them gasping for breath and writhing in pain. Every nerve ending in their bodies screams in protest, the impact of their collision reverberating through their bones and muscles like a shockwave. The room spins around them, their vision blurring as they struggle to process the sheer intensity of the pain.
Callie's body feels like it has been run over by a freight train. Her ribs ache with each ragged breath, the pain radiating outwards like a thousand hot needles piercing her flesh. Her stomach cramps violently, the muscles spasming as she tries to curl in on herself, to protect her tender midsection from further harm. The taste of blood fills her mouth, a coppery, metallic flavor that makes her want to retch. Her limbs feel heavy and unresponsive, her movements sluggish and weak as she tries to push herself up off the mat.
Marie-Anne's suffering is equally profound. Her wrist throbs where Smallz's grip had been, the bones feeling bruised and broken. Her stomach churns, the force of the impact leaving her feeling nauseous and lightheaded. Each breath is a labored, painful affair, her lungs burning as they struggle to expand against the weight of her own body. The room tilts and sways, her vision swimming as she fights to stay conscious, to escape the clutches of the darkness that threatens to consume her.
Smallz, standing triumphant over their fallen forms, reaches down and grabs Marie-Anne by her ponytail, the thick blonde hair wrapped tightly around his fist. He yanks her up with a brutal force, her body jerking upright as a look of pure terror spreads across her face. Her eyes widen, the pupils dilating as her body's fight-or-flight response kicks in. Her hands fly to his wrist, trying desperately to pry his fingers loose, to escape the painful grip that is pulling her hair out by the roots. Her feet scramble for purchase on the mat, her body twisting and turning as she tries to alleviate the pressure on her scalp.
"Please... stop... it hurts..." she begs, her voice a pathetic whimper, a stark contrast to the brutal strength of her opponent. Her panic is palpable, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps as tears well up in her eyes, spilling over and streaming down her cheeks.
Smallz, unmoved by her pleas, delivers a light knee to Marie-Anne's stomach, the impact driving her forward, bending her at the waist. The camera, perfectly positioned, captures the humiliating display as her ass is pushed out, the thin material of her bikini bottoms pulling taut, accentuating every curve and contour. The bikini bottoms, a mere scrap of fabric, do little to contain her firm, round cheeks, the outline of her pussy lips visible as the material digs into her flesh. The sight is a cruel, lewd display of dominance, a testament to the power Smallz wields over his helpless victim.
Taking advantage of her bent-over position, Smallz encloses her head with his thighs, the muscles in his legs tensing as he prepares to lift her. He reaches down, his large hands encircling her waist, and with a grunt of effort, lifts her up from the waist onto his shoulders. Marie-Anne's legs instinctively straddle either side of his head, her crotch directly in his face, his hands gripping her ass cheeks, supporting her weight as he stands upright.
He turns, carrying Marie-Anne in this humiliating position, her legs feebly trying to escape, to find some semblance of stability as he walks with her towards the prone body of Callie. Callie, still lying on the mat, watches in horror as the two approach, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and disbelief. She tries to scramble backwards, to put some distance between herself and the impending doom, but her body betrays her, her limbs unresponsive and weak.
With a final, devastating exertion of his power, Smallz lifts Marie-Anne higher in the air, her body suspended above Callie for a split second before he drives her straight down in a thunderous powerbomb. Marie-Anne's back hits Callie's stomach with a sickening smack of skin on skin, the force of the impact driving the air from Callie's lungs in a silent "Ooohhhh" scream, her lips pursing as she expels every last bit of air from her lungs. The sound is a chilling, gut-wrenching symphony of agony, a testament to the sheer force of the blow.
Marie-Anne, impaled on Callie's body, twitches and spasms, her eyes rolling back in her head, the whites showing as her consciousness teeters on the brink of oblivion. Her body goes limp, her limbs falling limply to her sides as she slumps atop Callie, the two women a tangled, broken mess of limbs and torment.
Smallz, standing over the entwined bodies of Callie and Marie-Anne, nudges the unconscious Marie-Anne off of Callie with his boot, rolling her onto her stomach so that she lies face down on the mat. The camera zooms in on Marie-Anne's face, capturing her in an unconscious slumber, her mouth slightly agape, a trickle of drool pooling on the mat underneath her face, mixing with the sweat that glistens on her skin. Her chest rises and falls with shallow, ragged breaths, a stark contrast to the brutal force that had been inflicted upon her just moments before.
The camera then shifts back to Smallz, who now has a firm grip on Callie's forearm. He begins to drag her across the mat, Callie's body leaving a trail of sweat and desperation in its wake. Callie, trying to resist and get away from him, pleads for mercy, her voice a pathetic whimper. "Please... let me go... I'm sorry... I don't want to be hurt anymore," she begs, her words falling on deaf ears as Smallz continues his relentless drag, pulling her towards the prone body of Marie-Anne.
With a final, brutal tug, Smallz places Callie on top of Marie-Anne, her breasts pressing against Marie-Anne's back, her face directly over Marie-Anne's neck. Callie squirms, trying to push herself off Marie-Anne, but her efforts are futile. Just as she begins to gain some leverage, Smallz crashes his butt directly onto the small of her back, driving her down onto Marie-Anne with a sickening thud. Callie lets out a howl of agony, "Arggghhh...ummmmphh!" the sound a chilling symphony of pain and desperation.
Callie's mind races with thoughts: "Oh God, the weight of him... it's crushing me. I can't breathe, can't move. My spine feels like it's going to snap in half. The pressure is unbearable. I can feel every ridge of his spine, every muscle in his body pressing into me. I'm being crushed, suffocated. I can't take this. Make it stop."
Smallz, unmoved by her pleas, pulls back on Callie's arms, hooking them over his knee. He does the same with Marie-Anne's limp form, pulling her arms back and hooking them over his other knee. Callie, sensing the setup, immediately pleads, "Don't put me in the camel clutch, I'm just the ref! Please, no!"
Ignoring her pleas, Smallz reaches down, his massive hands wrapping around Marie-Anne's chin. He pulls her head up, arching the backs of both women at the same time, applying a double camel clutch. The hold is brutal, the pressure on their spines and backs intense and unforgiving.
Callie's screams of agony fill the room: "Ahhh! No! Please! It hurts! My back! My spine! Ahhh! Please, let me go! I can't take this! Ahhh! My God, the pain! It's too much! Ahhh!"
Callie's body convulses as the pain of the camel clutch takes hold, her hands slapping at Smallz's leg, trying to find some relief, some escape from the agony. Her screams fill the room, a chilling, gut-wrenching symphony of suffering that echoes off the walls, a testament to the sheer brutality of the hold.
The pain of the camel clutch stirs Marie-Anne from her unconscious state. She groans, her body twitching as she becomes aware of the weight of the bodies on top of her, the awkward angle of her back as Smallz wrenches down on the hold. Her eyes flutter open, a look of confusion and agony spreading across her face as she takes in the horrifying reality of her situation. She tries to move, to escape the crushing weight, but her efforts are futile, her body trapped and helpless beneath the relentless force of Smallz's hold.
The camera zooms in on the look of sheer terror in both women's eyes, capturing the raw, unfiltered fear that grips them as they frantically search for any escape from the hold. Smallz, his sadistic grin etched deeply on his face, has his full weight pressed into the small of Callie's back, driving her further into Marie-Anne's body, sandwiching her between his massive frame and the mat. The pressure is immense, the force of his body driving Marie-Anne further into the unforgiving surface below, her bones and muscles screaming in protest.
The angle at which Smallz has them bent is unnatural, their spines arched in a way that defies the body's natural limits. The hold is a cruel, relentless torture, designed to push them to the very brink of endurance. Both women are now conscious, their senses heightened by the agony that courses through their bodies. They scream their submission, their voices raw and hoarse from the sheer intensity of their cries.
"Please... stop... it hurts... too much... I can't... I can't take it anymore," Callie begs, her voice a broken, desperate plea. Her hands slap at Smallz's legs, tapping in a pathetic attempt to signal her surrender, to beg for mercy.
Marie-Anne, her voice equally fraught with agony, echoes Callie's pleas, "No more... please... my back... my neck... it's killing me... please, let us go."
Smallz, relishing in their suffering, takes pleasure in their screams and cries of agony. He holds them in the double camel clutch for what feels like an eternity, his sadistic nature feeding off their torment. The room is filled with the symphony of their suffering, a chilling, gut-wrenching chorus of pain and desperation that echoes off the walls, a testament to the sheer brutality of his hold.
Finally, after what feels like an endless span of agony, Smallz releases the hold around Marie-Anne's chin, allowing both women a moment of respite from the arch of their spines. But his cruelty is far from over. As he stands, he presses down on Callie's spine, using her body as a lever to push himself off the two women. The movement drives Callie's body further into Marie-Anne, the force of the impact sending a shockwave of pain through both of their systems.
Callie lets out a final, gut-wrenching scream, "Arghhh... umph...fu...gguck," her voice trailing off into a pained, ragged gasp as she collapses onto Marie-Anne.
Callie, her body a wreck of pain and defeat, lies on top of Marie-Anne, her head resting on Marie-Anne's neck as she internalizes her agony. *Did he just break my back? I can't move. All I feel is pain. Everything hurts.*
Marie-Anne, similarly devastated, has her own inner thoughts: *Okay, I gotta get up. I gotta get away. This fucking monster is gonna end up destroying both of us.*
Smallz, not giving the women much time to recover, grabs a handful of Callie’s hair and pulls her up, forcing her into a kneeling position first, then hauling her to her feet. Marie-Anne, finally able to get the pressure of another body off her, pleads with her body to move, to escape the clutches of their tormentor.
The camera shifts its focus to Smallz and Callie. Callie Morgan is already in agony, her back arched to its limit from the camel clutch Smallz had her trapped in just moments ago. She’s shaking, her body listing side to side as she can barely hold herself upright. Her hands dangle at her sides, fingers twitching. Her mouth is half-open, gasping shallow breaths, strands of hair stuck to her sweat-soaked face. There’s terror in her eyes.
Smallz grabs Callie under the thighs and shoulder, setting up for a scoop slam, his intent far crueler. He lifts her clean off the ground, Callie’s body limp, her legs swinging slightly as he hoists her high. Her arms barely move; she’s too weak to resist. Smallz angles her body horizontally, her back facing his knee, and then, with zero hesitation, he drives her down. It’s not a graceful move; it’s a slam with purpose, with cruelty. Her spine slams directly across Smallz’s raised knee, landing with a sharp, snapping bend. The sound of a reverberating and loud crack echoes through the room.
Her body bounces from the impact, then rolls backward in a natural, horrific arch, her chest and boobs shooting upward, legs flopping downward, making the spine bow unnaturally again for a split second. "Agghhh-Fuu...fuckkk!" Callie howls, her voice raw, exploding from her like a fire alarm. Her hands shoot to her back as her mouth stretches wide in unfiltered agony. The camera catches her face twisted in pain, lips trembling.
With one hand, Smallz presses down on Callie’s chin, forcing her head back, opening her throat, twisting her neck, and arching her upper back even farther. With his other hand, he pulls down on her thigh, yanking her leg downward and away from her core. Her body is bent over his knee like a human bow, her spine forming a grotesque "U" shape. Callie screams, her voice cracking, her body spasming uncontrollably as her vertebrae are stretched to the point of collapse. Her hands claw at the air, her abs quiver violently, her face contorts into an expression of pure torment.
Her spine is the epicenter, being compressed at the base while both ends are pulled in opposite directions. Her stomach muscles cramp, unable to keep up with the forced flex. The neck strain from the chin push makes it hard to breathe, adding humiliation as she’s forced to expose her throat and chest. The camera pans in tight, showing her curved body, her mouth open in agony, eyes fluttering from shock and breathlessness. Her hair hangs limply down, sweat trailing from her jaw as she trembles. Smallz's face is stone-cold calm, methodical, enjoying her suffering without a hint of mercy.
Marie-Anne, still down on the mat, watches in horror as Smallz delivers that cruel over-the-knee back breaker to Callie. Her eyes widen in terror as she sees Callie's body bend and snap over Smallz's knee, the sound of the impact and the subsequent scream of agony echoing through the room. Marie-Anne begs her body to move, to get away from the impending doom, but her muscles refuse to cooperate, her body still reeling from the previous assault.
As Smallz bends Callie over his knee, Marie-Anne finally manages to get up to all fours, her arms shaking as she tries to push herself off the mat. Smallz, noticing her movement, pushes Callie off his knee, her body falling to the mat like dead weight with a resounding thud. He rises and runs up to Marie-Anne, his boots echoing on the mat as he closes the distance between them.
With a swift and brutal motion, Smallz delivers a punt kick to Marie-Anne's midsection, her exposed stomach taking the full force of the blow. The impact lifts her off the mat, her body flying through the air before crashing down onto her side next to the wall. The force of the kick is devastating, leaving her dazed and disoriented as she struggles to comprehend the pain that rips through her abdomen.
Smallz, not wasting any time, picks Marie-Anne up by the hair, her scalp screaming in protest as he drags her across the mat, her body limp and unresponsive. He pulls her to her knees, her body sagging as she struggles to maintain any semblance of balance. With a cold, calculated movement, Smallz wraps his arms around Marie-Anne's neck, applying a headlock with precision and force.
He snaps her down to the mat with a DDT, the movement quick and devastating. Marie-Anne's head hits the mat with a sickening thud, her body going limp and unresponsive the instant her head makes contact. She slumps to the mat, her body a lifeless ragdoll, her eyes fluttering closed as she succumbs to the darkness that claims her.
Smallz stands triumphant between the two fallen women, a snarl of satisfaction and cruelty etched on his face as he surveys the destruction he has wrought. He knows he could end their misery with a single, final blow, but he wants them to feel the full extent of his wrath, to drown in the sea of agony he has created for them. He drags the unconscious Marie-Anne by her foot, her body leaving a trail on the mat as he positions her next to the barely conscious Callie, who clutches her back, writhing in pain from the devastating back breaker.
With a stomp of his boot, Smallz drives the heel of his foot into Marie-Anne's stomach, the force of the impact jolting her back to consciousness. She lets out an explosive breath, her body convulsing as she cries out in agony, her voice a raw, desperate plea. "Ahhh! No! Please! It hurts! My stomach! Ahhh!" Her body is a wreck, her toned, sweat-slicked stomach bearing the brunt of the impact, the muscles spasming and cramping in protest. Her breasts, encased in her silver Lycra crop top, heave with each ragged, pained breath, the thin material doing little to contain her ample cleavage, her nipples hard and visible through the damp fabric.
Smallz, not content with simply awakening her, grabs Marie-Anne by her ponytail, the blonde strands wrapped tightly around his fist as he yanks her up with ease. Simultaneously, he grabs a fistful of Callie's locks, the dark strands tangling in his hand as he pulls her up alongside Marie-Anne. He slips behind both women, his massive frame towering over them as he wraps his arms around both of their windpipes, applying a double sleeper choke hold with brutal efficiency.
Both women, despite their exhausted and broken states, feebly try to escape the hold, their bodies twisting and turning in a futile attempt to free themselves from his vice-like grip. Callie's hands claw at his arms, her fingers digging into his flesh as she tries to pry his hands away, her body bucking and jerking in a desperate attempt to escape. Her legs, still weak and unsteady, kick out behind her, trying to find purchase on the mat as she struggles for air. Her back, already a mess of pain and agony, arches and twists as she tries to relieve the pressure on her windpipe, her body contorting in a sexual, desperate dance of survival.
Marie-Anne, similarly, thrashes and bucks against his hold, her body a symphony of desperation and pain. Her hands reach up, clawing at his arms, her nails digging into his skin as she tries to free herself. Her legs, still recovering from the punt kick to her midsection, kick out feebly, her body twisting and turning as she chokes out pleas of surrender. "Please... stop... I can't... breathe... please... mercy," she begs, her voice a hoarse, desperate rasp, her body trembling with the effort of her struggle.
Their bodies, pressed against each other and Smallz's massive frame, are a tangle of limbs and desperation. Callie's firm, round ass presses against Smallz’s basketball shorts rubbing up against his crotch. Marie-Anne's is right next to her pressed similarly against the skin of Smallz his taught muscles holding her in place. The thin material of their bikini bottoms doing little to hide the curves and contours of their bodies. The struggle causes their bodies to grind against each other and Smallz, their movement desperate and frantic, a final, futile attempt to escape the inevitable.
Marie-Anne, her body wracked with pain and exhaustion, is the first to succumb to the choke hold, her eyes fluttering closed as she passes out, her body going limp and unresponsive in Smallz's arms. Callie, however, continues to claw and cough, her body thrashing as she fights for every last breath, her nails digging into Smallz's arms, her legs kicking out behind her in a futile attempt to escape.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity of struggle and agony, Callie too passes out, her body slumping in Smallz's arms, her limbs falling limp and unresponsive. He holds them both for a moment longer, ensuring that they are fully unconscious, a sadistic smile playing on his lips as he savors the feeling of their lifeless bodies in his arms, a testament to the power and dominance he holds over them.
Smallz releases the sleeper hold, and both women hurl down to the mat, their bodies crashing onto the hard surface with a loud wet smack of sweat soaked exhausted skin slamming to the mat. They lie there, completely knocked out, their chests rising and falling in shallow, ragged breaths, their bodies a mess of paid ridden nerve ending firing off and causing agony, testaments to the brutal ordeal they have endured.
Smallz, not wanting to end the torture, looks at the sprawled, unconscious forms of Callie and Marie-Anne, a wicked idea forming in his mind. He wants more, craves more of their suffering, more of their agony. With a grunt, he drags Callie by one arm, her body limp and unresponsive, and rolls her over so that she is now lying face up next to Marie-Anne. The two women are now side by side, their bodies a stark contrast to the harsh, unforgiving mat.
With a sudden, explosive movement, Smallz leaps into the air, his massive, tree-trunk of a leg extending out, lining up the blow with brutal precision. He comes crashing down, his leg driving across both women's sternums and necks with the force of a freight train. The impact is devastating, the sound of cracking bones and rupturing tissue echoing through the room as both women are jolted back to consciousness, their bodies convulsing in agony.
"AAAHHH!!!" they wail in unison, their voices raw and hoarse, the sound a chilling, gut-wrenching symphony of pain and suffering. The leg drop has crushed their sternums, the force of the blow driving the air from their lungs in a rush of agony, their bodies arching and twisting in a futile attempt to escape the pain.
But Smallz is not done. With a speed that belies his size, he quickly gets up and delivers a second leg drop, this time targeting their windpipes and throats. His leg comes crashing down with the force of a sledgehammer, the impact driving their heads into the mat, their spines arching in an unnatural, grotesque curve.
The sudden silence is deafening, the only sound the ragged, coughing breaths of the two women as they struggle to draw air into their crushed throats. Their faces are contorted in agony, eyes wide with shock and pain, bodies trembling and convulsing as they try to escape the relentless torture. The massive leg of Smallz has crushed their ability to breathe, their windpipes compressed, their throats swollen and bruised.
Callie's hands fly to her throat, her fingers clawing at her neck as she tries to relieve the pressure, to draw in even the smallest gasp of air. Her legs kick out, her body bucking and jerking as she struggles for breath, her eyes rolling back in her head as she teeters on the brink of unconsciousness. Her firm, round breasts heave with the effort, her nipples hard and erect, the thin material of her top doing little to hide her sexual allure, even in the midst of such brutal agony.
Marie-Anne, similarly, clutches at her throat, her body writhing and twisting as she tries to escape the crushing weight of Smallz's leg. Her voice is a hoarse, desperate rasp, her pleas for mercy a pathetic, broken whisper. "No... ghhnkk—ahh… please...mmmnmm… stop," she begs, her body convulsing with the effort of her struggle, her eyes wide with terror and pain.
Smallz, standing triumphant amidst the wreckage of their broken bodies, turns his full attention to Marie-Anne. The room is filled with the sounds of their suffering, the coughing, gasping, and twitching a symphony of agony that only serves to fuel his sadistic desires. Callie lies convulsing on the mat, her body a mess of spasms and jerky breaths, her hands clutching at her throat as she struggles to draw air into her crushed windpipe. But Smallz’s focus is elsewhere, his eyes locked onto Marie-Anne, who lies wheezing and broken, her body a pathetic, trembling mess.
Marie-Anne’s voice is a hoarse rasp, her pleas for mercy a broken, desperate whisper. "P-please… no more… I can’t—can’t take—" she begs, her body convulsing with the effort of her struggle, her eyes wide with terror and pain. Smallz doesn’t speak; he simply reaches down and grabs her by the throat, hoisting her violently to her feet. Her legs drag uselessly beneath her, her body limp and unresponsive as he lifts her with ease.
He adjusts his grip, his massive hand encircling her throat, and lifts her into a full overhead gorilla press. Marie-Anne dangles there, suspended high above the mat, her eyes wide with terror as the blood rushes from her head. Her arms flail weakly, her body twisting and turning in a futile attempt to escape his grip. Her mouth opens in a voiceless scream, her breasts heaving with each ragged, desperate breath, the thin material of her top doing little to hide her ample cleavage, her nipples hard and erect, a stark contrast to the brutal agony she is enduring.
"No—no no no—" she manages to choke out, her voice a pathetic, broken whisper, her body trembling with the effort of her struggle. Smallz, unmoved by her pleas, begins his finisher, the Smallz Special, a triple tombstone piledriver that will drive her into total unconsciousness.
With chilling fluidity, he lowers her, tucking her head between his knees, her fate sealed. He drops, driving her skull into the mat with the force of a jackhammer. **THUD.** Marie-Anne's body convulses violently, her arms shooting out, legs twitching as her skull impacts the unforgiving surface. Her mouth opens in a silent scream, her eyes rolling back in her head as her body absorbs the brutal force of the impact.
Smallz rises, still holding her limp body, and resets for the second tombstone. Another impact, harder and deeper than the first, drives her neck to buckle, her spinal column taking the full brunt of the force. Her eyes roll back, her limbs flopping like dead weight, her body going limp as she succumbs to the overwhelming pain and trauma.
With no hesitation, Smallz rises again and leaps into the air, driving Marie-Anne’s skull into the mat with vicious finality. **CRACK.** The sound of her skull impacting the mat echoes through the room, a chilling, final note to her agonizing symphony of suffering. Her entire body bounces once, then goes completely still, her limbs splayed out in a grotesque, broken starfish position.
Marie-Anne’s final moments are a blur of darkness and silence, her internal monologue a desperate, fleeting plea: *Everything’s black. No sound. No pain. Just… nothing. Why can’t I move? Why can’t I breathe? What happened—…oh… god—he did it… he—*
Her limbs twitch once, twice, and then nothing. Silence descends, a stark contrast to the chaos and agony that preceded it. Marie-Anne lies motionless, her arms flung out to her sides, her legs splayed, her back slowly rising and falling once… then not again. Smallz releases her, and she slumps sideways, one cheek pressed into the mat, a thin line of drool trailing from her open mouth, her body a lifeless, broken puppet.
Callie, still crawling nearby, screams in horror, "Marie-Anne! No! Oh god—he knocked her out cold!" Her voice is a raw, desperate plea, her body convulsing with each ragged, pained breath, her hands clutching at her own throat as she tries to escape the relentless agony that grips her.
Smallz stands above them both, breathing slow and calm, his triumph evident in every line of his body. The Smallz Special has claimed another soul, and he savors the moment, his sadistic nature feeding off the destruction and suffering he has wrought.
Smallz, standing triumphant amidst the wreckage of their broken bodies, turns his full attention to Marie-Anne. The room is filled with the sounds of their suffering, the coughing, gasping, and twitching a symphony of agony that only serves to fuel his sadistic desires. Callie lies convulsing on the mat, her body a mess of spasms and jerky breaths, her hands clutching at her throat as she struggles to draw air into her crushed windpipe. But Smallz’s focus is elsewhere, his eyes locked onto Marie-Anne, who lies wheezing and broken, her body a pathetic, trembling mess.
Marie-Anne’s voice is a hoarse rasp, her pleas for mercy a broken, desperate whisper. "P-please… no more… I can’t—can’t take—" she begs, her body convulsing with the effort of her struggle, her eyes wide with terror and pain. Smallz doesn’t speak; he simply reaches down and grabs her by the throat, hoisting her violently to her feet. Her legs drag uselessly beneath her, her body limp and unresponsive as he lifts her with ease.
He adjusts his grip, his massive hand encircling her throat, and lifts her into a full overhead gorilla press. Marie-Anne dangles there, suspended high above the mat, her eyes wide with terror as the blood rushes from her head. Her arms flail weakly, her body twisting and turning in a futile attempt to escape his grip. Her mouth opens in a voiceless scream, her breasts heaving with each ragged, desperate breath, the thin material of her top doing little to hide her ample cleavage, her nipples hard and erect, a stark contrast to the brutal agony she is enduring. The thin fabric of her crop top clings to her sweat-slicked skin, outlining every curve and contour of her torso, her breasts threatening to spill over the low-cut neckline, her hard nipples pressing against the damp material, begging for release.
"No—no no no—" she manages to choke out, her voice a pathetic, broken whisper, her body trembling with the effort of her struggle. Smallz, unmoved by her pleas, begins his finisher, the Smallz Special, a triple tombstone piledriver that will drive her into total unconsciousness.
With chilling fluidity, he lowers her, tucking her head between his knees, her fate sealed. Her head is positioned directly in front of his crotch, her face inches away from his masked visage. He can feel her hot, desperate breaths against his inner thigh, her chest heaving as she tries to draw in air, her body convulsing with each ragged inhalation. His massive hands grip her ass cheeks, his fingers digging into her soft flesh, holding her in place as he prepares to deliver the first devastating blow. The position forces her body into an inverted V, her legs splayed and her crotch exposed and vulnerable.
He drops, driving her skull into the mat with the force of a jackhammer. Marie-Anne's body convulses violently, her arms shooting out, legs twitching as her skull impacts the unforgiving surface. Her mouth opens in a silent scream, her eyes rolling back in her head as her body absorbs the brutal force of the impact. Her body is a riot of sexual tension and agony, her breasts bouncing and shifting within her top, the material stretching and threatening to spill them free, her hard nipples standing at attention, begging to be touched, to be freed from their damp prison. The impact causes her body to arch and twist in a grotesque, erotic display, her back bending in an unnatural curve, her ass pushing out, the thin material of her thong bikini bottoms pulling taut, accentuating every curve and contour, outlining her pussy lips, her ass cheeks clenching and unclenching with each spasm.
Smallz rises, still holding her ass cheeks and waist to control her body, and resets for the second tombstone. Another impact, harder and deeper than the first, drives her neck to buckle, her spinal column taking the full brunt of the force. Her eyes roll back, her limbs flopping like dead weight, her body going limp as she succumbs to the overwhelming pain and trauma. Her breasts, constrained but barely within her top, bounce and shift with each impact, the material stretching to its limit, her hard nipples slapping against her chest, leaving red welts in their wake. The sight is a cruel, lewd display of dominance, a testament to the power Smallz wields over his helpless victim.
With no hesitation, Smallz rises again and leaps into the air, driving Marie-Anne’s skull into the mat with vicious finality. Her body is positioned such that her most intimate parts are exposed to him, the thin, wet material of her bikini bottoms leaving little to the imagination, her pussy lips visible through the material, swollen and begging for relief. He can see every detail, the way her lips glisten with a mix of sweat and fluids, the way her clit pokes out, begging for attention. The mask does little to hide the leer of satisfaction on his face as he takes in the sight, his breath hot against her most intimate parts.
The sound of her skull impacting the mat echoes through the room, a chilling, final note to her agonizing symphony of suffering. Her entire body bounces once, then goes completely still, her limbs splayed out in a grotesque, broken starfish position, her breasts heaving with her final, ragged breath, her hard nipples pointing straight up, begging for one last touch. Her pussy, visible through the thin, wet material of her bikini bottoms, is a swollen, red mess, her lips puffy and bruised, a testament to the brutal ordeal she has endured.
Marie-Anne’s final moments are a blur of darkness and silence, her thoughts ceasing to exist as her body shuts down, unable to cope with the trauma inflicted upon it. There are no more pleas, no more thoughts, just an endless void of nothingness.
Her limbs twitch once, twice, and then nothing. Silence descends, a stark contrast to the chaos and agony that preceded it. Marie-Anne lies motionless, her arms flung out to her sides, her legs splayed, her back slowly rising and falling once… then not again. Smallz releases her, and she slumps sideways, one cheek pressed into the mat, a thin line of drool trailing from her open mouth, her body a lifeless, broken puppet, her breasts pressed against the mat, her hard nipples a final, pathetic plea for mercy.
Callie, still crawling nearby, screams in horror, "Marie-Anne! Fuck...No....!"
Smallz, standing triumphant over Marie-Anne's broken form, turns his attention to Callie, who lies nearby, her body wracked with spasms and jerky breaths. Callie tries to crawl away, but her arms give out, her lungs still burning from the double leg drops, her throat raw, her chest tight. There’s no strength left to scream as a shadow looms over her.
He grabs her by the arm, lifting her with ease. She kicks weakly, sobbing, "No! Don’t! DON’T!" but her pleas are ignored. He hauls her up into a gorilla press, her battered body dangling above the mat. Her black and white halter-style referee top, torn and damp with sweat, clings to her skin, the thin straps digging into her shoulders, accentuating her firm, perky breasts. Her black thong bikini bottoms are pulled taut, accentuating the curve of her ass and the thin waist that flares out to her hips, the thin material outlining her swollen vulva.
With a roar, Smallz shifts his grip, tucking Callie's head between his knees, and drives her down into a brutal tombstone piledriver position. Her crotch is pressed against his face, the thin fabric of her thong doing little to hide the wetness and heat of her pussy, her lips swollen and begging for relief. Small squeezes his thigh around her head, and then jumps slightly kicking his legs out as he delivers jumping tombstone piledriver. The force of the impact echoes through the room, a harsh, final note to her agonizing symphony of suffering. Her spine buckles under the force, her legs snapping stiff, her body convulsing as the impact rattles her brain violently within her skull. Her mouth opens in a silent scream, her face still tucked close to Smallz privates.As Smallz shifts and stands, the thin fabric of her thong brushes against his lips, the heat and wetness of her pussy almost touching his mask and lips, as he he readjust their positioning pulling her back up still inverted in the piledriver postion.
But Smallz isn't done. Not even close. He maintains his grip on Callie, keeping her inverted and suspended above the mat, her body pressed tightly against his, her head squeezed still by his thighs. He can feel every curve of her body, the softness of her breasts pressing against his chest, the heat of her pussy against his masked face. He turns and walks, standing directly over Marie-Anne’s unconscious form, her body a broken shrine to the violence she just endured. Her limbs twitch faintly, her lips parted, a quiet rasp of expelled breath the only proof she still breathing and alive.
Smallz positions Callie’s head over Marie-Anne’s exposed abdomen, her stomach rising and falling with shallow, ragged breaths. He can see the glistening sweat on her skin, the way her nipples harden under the thin fabric of her top. Then, with a sickening thud, he drives Callie’s skull into Marie-Anne’s belly, using Marie-Anne's body as the impact point for the second tombstone piledriver. Marie-Anne's legs jerk upward in a grotesque reflex, but she doesn’t wake, her body remaining still and unresponsive, lost in the depths of her forced unconsciousness. Her eyes stay shut, her face a mask of peaceful oblivion, a stark contrast to the brutal reality of her situation.
Callie, meanwhile, shudders violently, her body convulsing with the force of the impact. Her mouth opens in a strangled moan, a pathetic, broken whisper escaping her lips, "Ummphh...st..st..oop...pl...please." Tears stream from her eyes, mixing with the sweat that covers her face, her head rolling limply inbetween Smallz’s grip with his thighs, her body a lifeless puppet in his hands. Her breasts bounce and shift with each convulsive movement, the thin fabric of her top threatening to spill them free, her hard nipples pressing against the damp material, as the top strains to keep them in.
Smallz rises again, Callie barely registering anything now, her head lolling, her arms limp and unresponsive. He turns her slightly, taking two deliberate steps to position himself just beside Marie-Anne’s head. And then, with surgical cruelty, he drives Callie’s skull directly into Marie-Anne’s forehead, completing the third tombstone piledriver of his dreaded Smallz special finisher.
A sharp, sickening crack echoes through the room, the sound of bone on bone, amplified by the full weight of Smallz’s monstrous frame. It's not just a finisher; it's a message, a testament to the power and dominance he wields over his helpless victims. Both women twitch in response to the impact, Callie’s body stiffening and then crumpling like a ragdoll, her limbs flopping limply to the mat. Marie-Anne’s limbs jolt once from the aftershock, her body convulsing briefly before settling back into its state of forced unconsciousness, her face a mask of peaceful oblivion, a stark contrast to the brutal reality of her situation.
Callie’s body lies limp and lifeless, her breasts heaving with her final, ragged breaths, her hard nipples extruding out of the top confines as the last piledriver has wiggled her breast free of there constraints.
Smallz looks down at the mess of broken bodies on the mat, his breath coming in slow, satisfied gasps. His eyes roam over the devastation he has wrought, taking in every bruise, every cut, every sign of the brutal ordeal he has inflicted. He notices that Callie's breast has popped free from her halter-style referee top, the firm, perky mound exposed to the cool air of the mat room, her hard nipple standing at attention, begging for touch.
With a cruel smirk, Smallz uses his massive hands to shove Callie's breast back into her top, his fingers brushing against her sensitive nipple, eliciting a weak, pathetic moan from her lips. He covers her nipple, his touch rough and dominating, ensuring that her breast is fully contained within the confines of her top. The camera pans over the two downed fighters, capturing the stark contrast between their battered, broken forms and Smallz's towering, triumphant figure.
He then turns his attention to Marie-Anne, her body lying limp and lifeless on the mat. He crosses her hands over her chest, as if she is being laid to rest in a coffin, a grim and morbid display of his dominance. He presses down on her hands and sternum, his massive palm covering her entire chest, his fingers digging into her flesh, ensuring that she remains still and unresponsive.
Smallz then grabs Callie's arm, using it to force her hand to slap the mat. He counts out the pin, his grunts and growls echoing through the mat room with each slap. The sound of Callie's hand hitting the mat fills the air, a sickening, wet thud that resonates with each impact. "Slap... slap... slap..." The echoes of the slaps reverberate, a grim countdown to the inevitable.
"Slap... slap... slap..." The rhythm is steady, unyielding, a testament to Smallz's brutal efficiency. Callie's hand makes a sickening, wet sound as it connects with the mat, her fingers splayed and limp, her body a lifeless puppet in Smallz's hands.
"Slap... slap... slap..." The final slaps echo through the mat room, a chilling finale to the brutal display of dominance.
Heaven's voice rings out from behind the camera, her tone professional and detached, "Ladies and gentlemen, that I believe was a ten count. Even though the referee is out, her hand slapped the mat for ten counts. So we are calling that a wrap. Your winner, and still undefeated, is Smallz."
The mat room falls silent, the only sounds the ragged breaths of the defeated fighters and the distant hum of the cameras. Smallz stands tall, his chest heaving with pride and triumph, his eyes scanning the room, taking in the aftermath of his brutal conquest. He has claimed another victory, another soul to add to his growing list of conquests, and he savors the moment, his sadistic nature feeding off the destruction and suffering he has poured out all over the mat room.
Smallz, standing triumphant over the broken bodies of Marie-Anne and Callie, lets out a final, satisfied grunt. His eyes gleam with a mix of cruelty and triumph as he surveys the devastation he has wrought. He bends down, his massive hands gripping the unconscious forms of the two women, and hoists them effortlessly over his shoulders. Callie's body is draped over his left shoulder, her firm, round ass pressed against his neck, her black thong bikini bottoms pulled taut, accentuating every curve. Marie-Anne's body is draped over his right shoulder, her toned, lithe frame limp and unresponsive, her silver bikini bottoms clinging to her skin, outlining her most intimate parts.
With a final, menacing growl, Smallz turns and begins to walk, his steps heavy and deliberate as he heads out of the mat room. The cameras follow him, capturing the grim spectacle of his victory. Callie and Marie-Anne's bodies bounce with each step, their limbs flopping limply, their heads lolling, their faces a mask of peaceful oblivion, a stark contrast to the brutal reality of their situation.
Heaven's voice rings out from behind the camera, her tone professional and detached, "And I guess Smallz is off to play with his victory trophies. Well, that it for Knockoutman's wrestling. See you next time."
The camera stays focused on the back of Smallz as he walks out through the curtain in the back of the room, the asses of each girl prominently displayed over his shoulders, their bodies limp and bouncing with his steps. The sight is a grim testament to his dominance, a chilling reminder of the power and brutality he wields. As he exits the mat room, the camera fades to black, leaving the audience with the haunting image of Smallz's triumph and the broken, battered forms of his victims.
