Submission Holds
by J. Darksong
I was doing my usual stretches in the back, gearing up for the main match in a couple of minutes. I was a bit nervous, but I was hiding it well. For the moment, anyway. I’d only been in the FLOW for a couple of months now, and regardless of what the average person at home thought, professional wrestling was a hell of a lot harder than it looked. True, big name promoters like the WWF (or WWE, as it was now called, thanks to a lawsuit from the world wildlife fund, of all things!) glamorized it to the point of incredulity, with the gimmicks and storyline, and celebrity promotions and all, but for us, the actual wrestlers, it was a very serious business.
“Ten minutes to Showtime, Blaze,” the attendant, Dan, yelled from the hallway outside.
Sighing, I stood up, straightening my tights. A water bottle appeared at my side, and I shook my head. “No thanks, Jeff. Not thirsty.” If anything, my stomach was a bit queasy; the last thing I needed was something else going inside me to end up coming back up later.
“Hey, Roxy, relax,” my manager said easily, placing a hand on my shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay. It’s gonna be fine. It’s a wrestling match, just like any other—”
“JUST a wrestling match?!?” I exploded, rounding on him, drawing the smaller man into a corner. “This is a TITLE match, Jeff! I’m headlining this event! Dominetra has been the undefeated champ for two years now. Two whole years without a single loss! And this isn’t the ‘Soap Opera Federation’ here! Fan appeal doesn’t decide who gets to be the champion. Sex appeal draws the crowds, yes, but talent and skill are what decides who wears the belt.“
“I know that, Rox,” he said, flashing me a nervous smile. “She’s tough, it’s true. She’s a master, well, mistress, of every submission technique ever invented. She’s strong, and quick, and she’s definitely a tough nut to crack. But guess what? None of that matters, because YOU, babe, you are the real deal! You’re Roxy Blaze! You’re the fastest, strongest, toughest bitch to ever come out of Detroit! There’s nobody out there that can beat you! You know why? Because you’re fearless! You fear no one, babe! NO. ONE!“
Yeah, right. Yeah. Right! “You’re right Jeff!” I said, starting to get pumped up. “You’re fucking right! I survived the mean streets for twenty-two years, facing pimps, muggers, and crackheads. I can take on some raven haired bitch in black tights and heels!” I mean, so what if she’s undefeated? Has she ever stared down the barrel of a loaded gun of some guy so desperate for a fix that he would kill you for the twenty-five cents in your pocket? Has she had to fight off the advances of an overzealous pimp who wanted her in his stables just because she had a pretty face, and a set of double D’s? Yeah... I was a survivor. My life before making it to the big time? That was a challenge. What I was facing now? This was cake.
I was naturally athletic, with a lithe, thin frame, yet blessed with gentle curves to offset the hard, taunt muscles. I’d developed early, around age eleven, and in my neighborhood, attracting the wrong kind of attention from the male population, you’d either better be well connected, i.e., hung around with the biggest and baddest people on the block, or be the biggest and baddest one yourself. Luckily, I was the latter. A natural born scrapper. Still, I’d probably still be living on those mean streets if I hadn’t attracted the attention of a certain former professional wrestler. After a particularly brutal run in with a couple of the neighborhood roughnecks who’d wanted to have some ‘fun’ with me, I came to, finding myself lying in an old cot in the back of what turned out to be Mike’s Gym. The old guy’d looked me over, and grunted.
“You got an ugly form. No talent. Even less skill. Yer a brawler, and a bad one at that. But... you got three things going for ya,” he’d said, holding up an old, meaty ham hock of a hand. “One, You got heart. You don’t give up even when the odds are against ya and ya know yer gonna lose. And, you got potential. You’ve got quite a body, kid—and no, I ain’t coming onto ya, I’m just saying, yer built. With the right training, and a lot of hard work, you could really be something.” He grinned, his massively wrinkled face nearly split in two. “And, number three? Ya got me in your corner kid. I don’t look like much, but I gots some knowledge. Use to be big myself back in the eighties. Stick with me, kid... and I’ll learn ya a few things.”
And against my better judgment, I had. And, true to his word, the old codger taught me a ‘few things’. The next time that group of boys came around, I gave them a whoppin’ that they still talk about in the old neighborhood to this day! But Mike, the canny old bird, had more in store for me than just becoming the neighborhood champ. He still had connections from his old glory days, and after a few talent scouts saw me fight, they bent over backwards to sign me to a deal. Fast forward six months, and I’m signing an even better contract as a starter for the Fabulous Women Of Wrestling company. Five months to the present, and I was headlining the main even for a shot at the title.
“Five minutes, Blaze,” the attendant called from outside the door.
“I’m ready,” I said, nodding to my manager, who nodding back with a grin. Slipping on a robe up over my trademark scarlet red tights, I opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.
If you’ve never been part of a live wrestling event, then you don’t know what true excitement is. Before you even make it to the stage, you can just feel the excitement, then tension in the air, the virtual electricity of it all. Hulk Hogan, a true throwback to the old ‘glory days’ of the sport, had a gimmick of getting his energy from the crowd, like a sudden rush of adrenaline right when he needed it the most, from their cheering and encouragement. Kinda cheesy I know, and yet you can’t deny that there IS an actual power that comes from the crowd being behind you, chanting your name, pulling with you with all their will to just GET UP... to do the impossible and fight back and win! In the weeks leading up to this event, I’d garnered something of a following, the scrappy little underdog, triumphing against all odds, beating women bigger and stronger than me. I might not be a female ‘Hulkster’, but I swear sometimes it was like the crowd’s cheering just... energized me.
Now it was just a question of whether it was enough to help the highly favored ‘underdog’ dethrone the reigning queen.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” The announcer called out through the arena’s PA system, as Jeff and I made our way down the hallway. “This is our main event! Scheduled for one fall, this match tonight is for the WORLD TITLE! Approaching the ring with her manager, Jeff, with a weight of one hundred and thirty-two pounds... from the city of Detroit, Michigan, the challenger... RRRRRROOOXXXYYY!! BBBBBBLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAZZZZZZZEEEE!”
The crowds cheered wildly, and I preened, feeling slightly drunk from their applause. God! I felt like I could fly to moon!
Suddenly the lights dimmed, and multicolored strobe lights began flashing as loud rock music began to play. Shit, I thought to myself as I recognized Disturbed’s ‘Bring The Violence’, the reigning Queen’s theme music, as well as her personal signature. Oh. Good feeling gone. Steeling myself, I walked to my corner and awaiting her arrival.
“And now, being lead to the ring by her manager, the mysterious ‘Midnite’, weighing in at one hundred and seventy-two pounds... from Baton Rouge, Louisiana, the reigning world champion—DDDDDOOOOOOOMMMMIIINNNNEEEETTTRRRAAAA!!”
And just like that, the crowd that had been cheering so loudly for me had shifted their allegiance to her, leaving me feeling drained, nervous and anxious once again. Damn. Note to self: if I do manage to win this match, get myself some kick-ass theme music... Entering the ring, my raven haired opponent gave me a frank and obvious appraisal, before nodding slightly, granting me a disinterested smirk before turning away, back to her corner.
“Hey, Roxy, calm down,” Jeff urged me, pulling my attention away from her, focusing on him again. “Remember the game plan, all right? Don’t let her psyche you out. She’s big, she’s tall, and really mean, but so was every other woman you beat to get here. This is your time, Rox... your moment. This is what you’ve been training for! Now... are you ready to win this?”
“Ye... yeah. I’m ready...”
“I said, are you READY?”
“YEAH!” I answered back, a bit louder, and more confident. His faith and encouragement was starting to restore my earlier mood. I could do this. I really could!
“AREYOUFUCKINGREADY!” he shouted, asking me again.
“HELL YEAH!!” I shouted back, causing the announcer, referee, and my opponent to all turn and look at me. The crowd, apparently hearing my shout, answered back with a cheer of their own, much to Dominetra’s apparent dismay. Then the bell rang, and the match began.
Not wanting to waste time, Dommy charged straight in, like a bull seeing a red flag. I’d half expected it, of course, and sidestepped, letting her continue on into the ring ropes. Turning, she bounced off, using her momentum to come at me again, her arm outstretched for a flying tackle. Ah, but I’d anticipated that as well, and ducked, planting my feet, then pushing up, flipping her up over my back. The crowd cheers as she landed flat on her back, but rather than capitalize immediately, I backed off, crouching slightly, making a show of letting her get back to her feet. “Hey, Dommy, don’t tell me that’s all you’ve got? I was expecting a challenge!”
Taking a moment to wipe a bead of sweat from her brow, she nodded to me slightly. “Very good. I concede that there is more to you than I first thought. I might actually have to put some effort into this match.” Rolling her head to the side, cracking her neck, she turned to face me with a savage grin. “But make no mistake, Red... at the end of this match, I will be the one standing triumphant.”
She came at me again, but this time with a bit more caution. Expecting a feint of some kind, I bounced lightly on the balls of my feet, ready to twist or turn aside, or dodge or parry whatever attack she decided to go for. When she went low, diving for my legs, she caught me by surprise. I leaped, doing a split in midair, to the delight of the audience, allowing her to slide underneath me. Landing, I turned, preparing to follow up on my downed opponent... only she wasn’t downed! Turning her dive into a roll, she’d kipped back up onto her feet behind me while I was facing backwards. When I turned, I received a brutal clothesline to the chest for my troubles, sending me flat onto my back.
Rolling quickly, I got back to my feet, shaking my head to clear the cobwebs. Damn. She’s quick AND strong. And smart. I think going for my usual high flying acrobatics will be a mistake with this one. Better play it safe and stay on the mat.
Preparing to charge her in retaliation, my opponent again surprised me by raising her left hand, wigging her fingers, and extending it out, signaling that she wanted to grapple. The crowd, wanting to see a matchup of strength, began cheering wildly, clapping, urging me to accept her challenge. I bit my lip, considering. Dominetra had a good forty pounds on me, and she was taller to boot. I’d definitely be at a disadvantage. Not to mention, the black haired vixen had a reputation for dirty tricks and using low blows to catch an opponent off guard. I shook my head no, but Dom merely laughed.
“What’s wrong, Blaze?” she said aloud, gesturing in mock surprise at my refusal. “Did your pilot light blow out? Are you all out of gas so quickly?” She extended her hand again, and again the crowd cheered... cheered HER, not me.
Ah, shit... can’t disappoint my adoring fans, I thought grimly, teeth gritted, and I slowly extended my both my hands.
Clasping hands, interlocking fingers, we grappled, each putting our all into the hold. If you’ve even done that as a child, then you know how freaking stupid and painful such a thing is. The key to winning is leverage. If you can get above your opponent and press down, bending their wrist, you put an unbearable pressure on them, forcing them to literally kneel down at your feet to straighten your wrists back up and ease the pain. As Dominetra began using her superior height and weight to apply pressure, I found myself buckling, twitching, straining with everything I had to keep her from gaining a position over me. She laughed all the while, chuckling madly, grinning a wide toothed smile as she kept up the pressure.
“How long do you think you can last, little one?” she taunted me, her face pressed right up against mine. “How much torture can you endure before your body, mind, and spirit simply fails you?” Out of nowhere, she pulled back, causing me to stumble slightly. Just a step, half a step really... but it was enough to pull me off-balance. Quick as lightning, she struck, wrenching herself back, lifting me up off the ground several inches before pulling hard and slamming me back down on the mat.
“Aaaaaahhh!” I cried out, landing on my feet, but again, stumbling, the new position putting that horrible pressure on my wrists, forcing me to moved forward and down to keep from ripping off my fingers. The crowd was really into it now, yelling and screaming at my obvious pain, and my adversary, Dominetra, was simply eating it up.
Quite possibly, literally eating it up.
Because… either the pain and pressure of this title match was starting to get to me, and I was seeing things... or my opponent was not what she truly appeared to be. Little sparkles of light, shimmery, sparkly little flutters, seemed to be rising up from the crowd, floating on invisible eddies towards the ring, and into Dominetra, making her glow with a soft subtle light. She twisted again, savagely, I groaned, and my vision blurred... and that whatever-it-was I’d seen, it was gone. Seriously freaked out, I rose up on one knee and surged forward, ramming into her chest with my shoulder, causing her to stumble slightly. Another shoulder bash, and a third, and she stumbled back, releasing the hold.
Panting, feeling more than a little winded, I flexed and shook my hands, trying to restore the feeling. The crowd cheered my escape, their fickle but much appreciated applause warming me, soothing me... strengthening me. My vision blurred for a second... and with a jolt, I realized that the shimmery sparkles were now flowing into ME! “Wha... what the... hell?” I asked, in confusion, holding out a hand to grasp a dancing sparkle. It fluttered, hovering slightly above my palm, like a soap bubble, then sank into me, piercing my palm, going into me... taking the pain and numbness in my hands away in the process. A quick look at Dominetra showed something besides her scowl. She knew what this was... and she knew that I also knew.
“Very good, Roxanne,” Dominetra said, somehow, speaking clearly without moving her lips. “You’ve finally pierced the veil. Great. Now the TRUE battle can begin.”
“Haaaahh? Whhaaaaatt?” I tried to ask, shuddering strangely as I felt myself.... ripped out of my own body would be the best way to describe it. I was... it was like floating above your own body, looking down at yourself... and at the same time being INSIDE your body, controlling it, moving it, being it. The closest thing I can compare it to is a severely bad acid trip while staring in a funhouse mirror.
“Urrrrk!” I gasped, feeling strong arms grab me from behind, putting me in a chokehold. The me down below, was indeed, grapping Dominetra, fighting her, trying to break free. The other me, the ghostly ethereal me, was being held just as intently, but by a pair of dark glowing purple eyes. Dominetra’s eyes.
“This is the real battle, Roxanne,” she said darkly, her eyes drawing me in, pulling at my mind, my will, my very essence. “You are like me... you are able to perceive the true battle that occurs within our sacred arena. So many of my other opponents were so unworthy... nothing more than mindless brutes, all strength, no substance. Breaking them was child’s play. Ah... but you, Roxanne... in you I sense a kindred spirit. Once I force your submission, and add your power to my own, I shall be unbeatable! Unstoppable!” Her grin turned evil, and if such a thing were possible, her deep hypnotic eyes became even more magnetic. “Now, girl... all that remains is for you to give in... submit to me... bend to my will!”
“UUGGGHHNNN!! NO... WAY!” I grunted, pulling back, trying to break my gaze... struggling against the tide washing away all of my strength. My mind felt fuzzy... but I weak didn’t mean defeated. I wasn’t about to give up without a fight. And... since I couldn’t break free of her gaze, since I couldn’t pull away... I pushed instead! I glared back at her, focusing MY will at her, trying to force HER to submit to me!
Back in the real world, our bodies moved and fought, dancing that vibrant fluid dance of true combat, moving entirely on instinct, on autopilot. I felt, rather than saw, my body break free, wrenching an arm loose, sliding it up and underneath, turning her chokehold into a hip toss. Momentarily rocked, the pressure on my mind weakened momentarily, but before I could recover, she struck again, snatching me in a toe hold take down, scissoring her legs around mine. With a simple flip, my body was caught in a figure four leg lock.
“Give in to me!” she rasped, glaring hard and fierce, and I felt my will began to waver again. With an effort, I pushed back, mentally and physically. Physically, my body rolled over onto its side, reversing the figure four, and mentally, I rallied my waning resources, feeling her own focus and concentration begin to waver.
“You’re... not... going... to... win!” I panted, taking the initiative for once. Breaking the leg lock, my body rolled, hands hooking her heels as I slid down, then pushed myself up, bending her into a makeshift Boston Crab. Dominetra gasped, wrenching painfully beneath me, trying to find traction to break free. Ghost Dominetra, wavering somewhat, still had a bit of fight left in her, however, and redoubled her efforts.
“SUBMIT!” she shouted, her thought-voice like a lightning bolt striking me to the core of my being. My mind shuddered, and clouded... my attention wavered... my body panted, losing strength and momentum... and my opponent’s body slowly but steadily pushed up, making it impossible to maintain the pressure of my hold. I faltered, releasing her legs, stumbling blindly, and strong powerful arms grabbed me once more, around my waist.
“YES!” she cheered in victory. “I have you! You are mine!”
My body slammed hard into the canvas, German Suplexed nearly into oblivion. My ghostly form wavered and blurred even more... my entire view filling with the rippling, spiraling purple and black eyes... Dominetra’s eyes. Mistress’ eyes... Mistress...
“One...”
I was done. Finished. I had nothing left. My engine WAS out of gas, and I was grinding to a halt. My mazed mind was barely coherent enough to understand the sounds and sights I was receiving. The referee. Counting. I was pinned. Vulnerable. Helpless.
“Tttttwwwwwoooooo....”
I was going down. Not only was I about to lose the match, I was going to lose my mind, my very soul, to this woman. I now understood what had happened to all of Dominetra’s previous opponents after the match when she made a big show of placing a collar and leash on them, trotting them back to the dressing rooms as her humbled and humiliated slaves. They weren’t simply playing a part for the cameras. They really HAD been broken. They’d fought a battle of will against her and lost... and that was the price they paid. The price I was about to pay.
Me. Beaten. Defeated. Enslaved.
Fuck that!
“RRRRRHHHHHAAAAAAHHHH!” I roared, bucking up wildly, shoving the heavier black haired girl off of me a nanosecond before the referee’s hand came down for the three count. I was up on my feet, staggering, nothing left, but I wasn’t beaten. Not yet anyway. Dominetra was stunned, thinking it was all over. And the crowds...
The crowds EXPLODED!! Cheering, cheering, cheering... it wouldn’t have surprised me if the roof literally flew off the top of the building! They loved it! I was Hulk Hogan after taking a fatal bombardment from the unstoppable Andre the Giant, getting back to his feet and shrugging it off. I was the Undertaker, sitting up calmly after taking an earth shaking Rock Bottom slam. I was Stone Cold Steve Austin, out on his feet after a vicious pile driver, virtually paralyzed from injury, yet still managed to roll up his opponent in a small package and get the win. And as the crowd’s energy began flowing into me, I was Iron Man from the Avengers, taking a lightning bolt from Thor’s hammer, charging me up for four hundred percent capacity!!
I was all of them rolled up into one! Going with the momentum, I launched an attack against my shocked and stunned opponent. As Ghost-me focused my will and focus on her mind, below, Physical-me launched a series of crowd pleasing maneuvers as well. Bouncing off the ropes, a drop kick nailed Dominetra as I drew her mind in with MY hypnotic gaze. A standing drop kick sent her back down as she stood up, and another psychic blast rocked her world.
“You’re NOT gonna beat me!” I yelled, surging forward, my ghostly form enveloping hers, engaging in a more literal type of mental grappling. I could feel her struggling against me, fighting, in desperation. She’d said that all of her other opponents had been ‘unworthy’, that she’d never had a real challenge before. Me, I’ve lived my entire life facing one challenge after another, fighting for survival. She was always bigger, faster, and stronger than everyone she’d ever faced—she’d never been the underdog. And as I pushed down on her with every bit of my iron-forged will and determination, I felt her own will falter, buckle, and finally shattered.
“Submit... to... me!” I rasped, pushing her with every last bit of power I had left. And finally, blessedly... the pressure against my own mind evaporated, vanishing completely, as I felt her surrender, my mind and power opening to me. The world shifted again, and suddenly I was back in my body again, gasping, panting, HURTING, as gravity and sensation returned in full. The crowd was cheering again, and with a shock I found myself wrapped around my opponent, one leg around her neck, the other synched behind both of her arms while I lay on my side, her legs held tightly in my grasp, bound by my arms with my hands clenched.
The referee was tapping my shoulder, struggling to get me to release the hold, and doing so, he grabbed my arm, raising in the air. “The winner by submission...” the announcer yelled loudly over the PA speakers, “and NEW champion: Rooxxxyyyy Blaaaaaaaaaze!”
The crowd erupted into cheering once more, as I stumbled to my feet. I was tired... exhausted, even. Whatever energy I’d gained from the crowd earlier was no longer working. Either it only worked while I was actually wrestling... or the influx of energy couldn’t match all the lumps and bumps and bruises I’d taken during the match. Whatever the reason, my legs felt like rubber, and I was ever so grateful when my manager Jeff came into the ring, taking the championship belt the referee handed over, and sliding an arm underneath my shoulder, keeping me from falling flat on my ass.
“Great job, kid! Great job!” he said, enthusiastically. He leaned over and kissed my cheek. Normally, I would have punched him in the shoulder for that, at the very least, but I didn’t have the strength. Plus, honestly, I was really too damn happy I’d won. I managed to make it all the way back to the dressing room before my legs finally gave out, and I flopped down on my bench, totally spent.
“Well, Roxy, I always knew you had it in you to win the title,” Jeff said after a bit, “but I have to say, what you did out there tonight was phenomenal! I mean, you’re always exciting to watch, but tonight you pulled off moves I didn’t even know you had in your repertoire! And that finishing move... that submission hold you used... what was that? I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
I shrugged, playing it off. “I dunno. I haven’t really thought of a name for it yet. It was more of a... desperation move than anything.” I smiled softly, running a hand along the heavy gold and diamond plated belt at my side. “But something tells me I’ll get the chance to use it again someday.”