PARIS HILTON VS JESSICA SIMPSON REMATCH

VS

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Each woman having scored one victory over the other, it was inevitable that they should meet a third time to break the tie. For Hilton, it was an opportunity to not only avenge her previous loss to the pop diva, but also to reestablish herself as a winner and regain her position as the ruling goddess of catfighting.

Simpson had reasons of her own for the match: although she had beaten Paris in their last encounter, the heiress had stubbornly refused to verbally acknowledge Jessica’s superiority, as the singer had been made to do in their first fight, in which Hilton had conquered her. Plus, it would also allow her to debut her new red-haired look…a change in image which she hoped would gain her a more “serious” image.

Unfortunately for Jessica, a change in hair color offered her little in the way of an edge against her opponent…particularly as Paris came into this fight with a definite strategy.

Both beauties are renowned for their magnificently lethal legs. Thus, the heiress reasoned, the key to destroying Simpson was to eliminate her best weapons. Hilton focused her attack on her foe’s long stems, relentlessly twisting, tanking, bending and mauling them, until Jessica’s battered limbs could do little more than tremble involuntarily. Unable to stand on her legs, much less use them offensively, the redhead seemed destined for oblivion.

Or so she would be, if in fact her legs were her only weapon. And as Paris haughtily stood over her fallen rival, Jessica’s hands suddenly flashed out and grabbed the blond by her ankles. One jerk later, Hilton hit the floor with a heavy thud, and her adversary was swarming all over her.

Before the heiress knew what was happening, she found herself snared in a Cross-Face Crippler, a searing pain running from her head all the way down to her feet as her body was bent painfully at the knees and neck.

Hilton squealed and squirmed, desperate to escape. But with a maniacal glint in her eye, Simpson kept the hold locked on. Had Hilton ever developed skills which went beyond her legs, she might have known how to escape; but she hadn’t, and she couldn’t.

“You’re… breaking my back!” Paris wailed.

“Give!” Jessica commanded with a guttural roar.

After several long heartbeats, Hilton finally whines, “OK! I give! Let me go!”

But instead of releasing her hold, the redhead kept it firmly in place. Then she hissed, “What am I?”

“F-f*ck you, bitch!” the beleagued blond groaned. She was rewarded for her insolence with a quick jerk of her neck, which brought a new wave of pain. Simpson didn’t have to ask again… Hilton knew what she had to say, or risk being crippled.

“You… you are my superior! You’re better than me! Now…LET ME GOOOOOOO!”

Paying her rival no further attention, Jessica releases her hold, then gets to her hands and knees, struggling to rise on legs that still throb in agony.

Turning her back on the viper that is Paris Hilton was a serious lapse in judgment.

Without warning, Paris hurls herself at the victor and slams a blow to the back of Jessica’s head, stunning her. The heiress then wraps the steel bands that are her legs around her foe’s head, crushing it between her powerful thighs.

‘YOU’RE NOTHING!” Hilton snarled in rage. ‘YOU ARE NOTHING COMPARED TO ME!”

Simpson’s hands slapped and tugged desperately…futilely…at her tormentor’s legs. Then, her arms fell limp to the floor, and the redhead ceased struggling. Still, Paris would not release her vise. It finally took four other women in the crowd of spectators…all of them fellow catfighters…to pry the limbs apart, even as a fifth wrapped Hilton’s head in a Sleeperhold to weaken her. So great was the blonde’s fury, even this effort took more than a full minute to succeed.

Jessica had her victory, but at a frightful cost. But one thing was certain: These two would battle one another yet again some day!


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