At the exact moment that the redhead’s thighs tighten around her rival’s head and throat, a wild thrashing begins. For the blonde can feel it, the squeezing. The Pain. The oxygen being stolen from her every attempt at taking a breath. She tries desperately to escape from her enemy’s grasp, but finds only failure in that endeavor – only the wounding truth that her every move pushes her deeper into the vice grip of her opponent.
As that reality sets in, her adrenaline-filled mind turns to find some new route or counter, but the hold has already taken its toll, and her body has already begun to weaken. Legs giving out at random as she tries to bridge for a better angle, hands quaking as she tries to pry her rival’s legs apart, and sense of space evaporating, just as consciousness begins to fade.