It had only vaguely occurred to Michelle that the fight was slated to take place on her 20th birthday; in her mind, the real day of celebration would come the following Saturday when she’d be the guest of honor at a big bash at an LA nightclub thrown by “best friend” Hilary Duff. Still, in honor of her special day, the spectators gave her a champagne toast before she and her opponent disappeared into separate bedrooms to change. The brunette donned a burgundy one-piece which, while conservative by most standards, still managed to highlight her highly regarded derriere and flatter her slightly modest bosom.
Blake wore a red French cut one-piece which accentuated the curves of her lean, firm body; feeling sure she’d impress the crowd when she walked out. ‘With any luck,’ she thought. ‘I’ll impress them even more with my ability.’ As she placed her hand on the doorknob, Blake reminded herself, ‘The winners in Hollywood make their own luck.’ Then she stepped through the door, prepared to do just that. She’d come to Hollywood to be a winner and no woman - not even Michelle Trachtenberg - was going to deny her!
The obligatory introductions done, the real business of the night is at hand as the signal to begin combat is given and the two young beauties slowly circle one another. Michelle is a bit surprised to see Blake cautiously maintain the distance between them, refusing to allow the brunette to get too close. Michelle allows herself a small smile at the thought that she must be developing quite a reputation if newcomers are hesitant about mixing it up with her.
But it wasn’t much longer before the blond began to gradually close the gap and soon they were close enough to reach out and clasp hands. Michelle knew how this would play out; they would struggle in a sort of test of strength for a few moments, then the less-experienced blond would make a move - most likely an attempt to flip her foe to the carpet. Michelle decided to let Blake make the first offensive move just to see what the newcomer could do. To be perfectly honest, she was a bit bored by tonight’s contest.
Chalk it up to either overconfidence on Michelle’s part, or expected strategic brilliance on Blake’s, or perhaps a combination of both, but the chestnut-haired beauty never saw what was coming! With a blur of motion, Blake shed her seeming prudence and snapped her right leg up, connecting with a brutal cunt punt to Michelle’s undefended groin! Screeching like a wounded owl, Michelle tore her hands from Blake’s grip and clutched her throbbing womanhood as her beautiful face twisted into a grotesque mask of misery. She staggered, turned away from her foe hoping to buy a few precious moments to recover, praying that her opponent was too green to press her advantage. It was a prayer in vain!
With a skill that belied her inexperience, Blake unleashed another cunt punt, this time punting Michelle’s mound from behind! Michelle’s second howl was even more pain-laden as she dropped to her knees, her hands frantically massaging the pulsating ache in her crotch as blinding tears welled in her eyes and she bit a quivering lower lip.
Her long, sinewy body now moving with a panther’s grace, Blake took several steps back, then charged at her wounded foe from behind. Grabbing Michelle’s dark mane as she leapt over Michelle, Blake used her momentum to SLAM her face-first into the floor, the plush carpeting absorbing only the merest fraction of the impact. Michelle lay face down on the carpet, her right leg kicking languidly, her body giving an involuntary spasm. The spectators sat in stunned silence. They’d seen her in trouble many times before, sometimes even driven to defeat; but NEVER had they seen her so ruthlessly dominated so early in a match…and by a newcomer, no less! It was a sight none of them had ever expected to witness.
As Blake continued, she made none of the usual rookie mistakes. She didn’t pause to admire her handiwork or taunt her fallen foe as one might expect; she instead wisely resumed her attack, grabbing Michelle’s wrists and yanking her arms up behind her while planting a foot between her shoulder blades. Blake hauled back with all of her strength and the sudden pain, which felt as if her arms were being torn from their sockets, shocked Michelle out of her stupor and she let out a wail of helpless agony. The sound of her screams brought an ominous smirk to the blonde’s face that chilled the spines of the onlookers.
Suddenly releasing her hold, Blake grabbed Michelle’s hair and one arm, using them to haul her to her feet. Without pausing, the blond then scooped her up, holding her in the air for several seconds while the spectators…and Michelle…were left to guess what would come next - a devastatingly executed Backbreaker as she slammed Michelle down over her knee! Michelle’s taut body jackknifed in reverse as her spine slammed into her tormentor’s outstretched thigh and another agonized howl was ripped from the brunette’s throat as her body went limp. Blake pushed her body off of her knee and Michelle hit the carpet face down with a soft THUMP! Kneeling next to her overwhelmed adversary, Blake filled a fist with Michelle’s hair, then lifted the sobbing beauty’s head.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God…” the brunette moaned softly, her entire body wracked with pain.
With a sneer, the blond says, “I think you mean, ‘Oh Blake, oh Blake, oh Blake…please don’t kick my ass any more!’ Hah!” Blake scoffed. “I had heard you would be tough, but I’m barely breaking a sweat!” Suddenly, a mischievous look crosses her face. “Oh, wait…it’s somebody’s birthday, isn’t it? Is that why you suck so bad, are you getting old?” With a mocking laugh, the 18 year old blond adds, “This is a young woman’s game, old girl. You should have quit while you were ahead.” Pulling Michelle up to her knees by the hair, Blake drops to one knee, then pulls Michelle across it on her stomach. “Well,” she says in a deceptively sincere tone. “I didn’t get a present, but the least I can give you is…THIS!”
WHAP!! WHAP!! WHAP!! WHAP!! The room resounds with the sharp crack of Blake’s open hand descends twenty times, spanking Michelle’s reddening butt once for each year in a traditional birthday spanking! Tears run down Michelle’s face…but it is a visage not of defeat, but of mounting fury. Blake had made her first rookie mistake at last! The spanking humiliated Michelle, but did little bodily damage while it gave the brunette a chance to gather her wits and marshal her strength…and to let her anger-fueled adrenaline race through her veins.
Thoroughly pleased with herself, Blake again grabbed Michelle by the hair, close to the roots this time; and yanked her upright to taunt her face to face.
“Now,” the blond says, oblivious to the murderous look in her rival’s eyes as she reaches for one of Michelle‘s shoulder straps. “Whaddya say we get a look of you in your birthday suURGGHHHH!”
She never completes her belittling threat, as Michelle’s right hand darts up and clamps itself around the blonde’s windpipe. Blake gasps and gurgles as she suddenly finds breathing to be impossible.
With her left hand, Michelle delivers two sharp punches…SMACK! POW!…to Blake’s temple. The blonde’s eyes to roll back and her body begins to wilt. When the brunette releases her Chokehold, Blake desperately gulps in precious air but Michelle isn’t being merciful…merely shifting tactics!
What follows next is a wrestling lesson for the novice, as Michelle subjects her hapless adversary to a series of painful maneuvers: an Airplane Spin leaves Blake’s senses reeling; the Bodyslam to the floor knocks the wind from her body; then, placing the blonde’s head between her knees, Michelle drills her victim into the carpet with a Face Breaker. Each move flows into the next with a remarkable fluidity, ably demonstrating the brunette’s grappling skills.
The battered blond finds herself heaved back up to her feet, Michelle wrapping her arms around Blake’s waist in a Bear Hug. But instead of squeezing, the brunette instead suddenly lifts her competitor up into the air…and brings her down quickly with a Reverse Atomic Drop! As Blake’s groin is poleaxed onto Michelle’s knee, the blond gives a wretched wail. Michelle is careful to not let her victim free of her grasp too quickly; intentionally holding the blond so Blake is forced to look into her tormentor’s eyes and see the glint of wrath. Only after Blake visibly shudders from the sight does Michelle let her collapse to the floor into a puddle.
Standing over her badly stunned foe, Michelle locks in a complex Chinlock Surfboard, stretching Blake’s neck, spine and legs, and causing the blond to scream like a banshee. Blake seems on the verge of shouting her submission when Michelle pitilessly uses her right hand to cover the blonde’s mouth, rendering her words incomprehensible…unable to verbally yield. Her tear-filled eyes plead for mercy, but her opponent would grant none this night.
Rendered nearly insensate by the pain she is made to endure, Blake’s body flops like a rag doll when Michelle finally releases her. Rising to her feet, her adrenaline fury abating, for the first time Michelle seems to notice her own red, aching derriere and she scowls.
Then she looks down at the teen at her feet, and a wicked grin erupts across her lips. While Blake, driven by some subconscious survival mechanism, slowly tries to drag herself across the floor away from her punisher on all fours, Michelle saunters over to her rival’s big shot benefactor, sitting ‘ringside’ in a plush chair. Wordlessly, she undoes his belt buckle, then pulls his belt free of his pants…the producer sits dumbly, too shocked and/or frightened to protest.
Leather strap in hand, Michelle returns to Blake and, dropping to one knee, she grabs Blake’s golden tresses and lifts her to her knees, then drapes her across her extended knee. With her left hand, Michelle grabs the bottom of Blake’s swimsuit and jerks up, administering a Wedgie that also exposes the blonde’s butt cheeks fully. Leather belt clutched tight in her right hand, the birthday girl delivers a brutal whipping to her foe’s raised rear end.
Michelle doesn’t quit until she’s put the lash to Blake’s increasingly tender backside nineteen times, then, with a shrug of her shoulders, an impish smile, she adds an exaggerated, “OOPS! I guess I’m getting senile in my old age and can’t count anymore. Consider the last one, one to grow on!”
Roughly pushing her sniveling foe to the floor, Michelle stands up and plants a foot on Blake’s heaving chest as she raises her right fist, still clutching the belt in triumph. But she doesn’t remain in the spacious room to receive the rapturous praise of the spectators, instead limping back to her bedroom, where she collapses on the bed, utterly spent. She’d come close to defeat tonight, not just because her opponent was good enough to beat her…although Blake is damned good, and she’ll only get better with the passage of time… No, she came close to losing because she went into the fight overconfident, certain of victory. If she wanted any hope of beating Johansson decisively, she’d have to purge herself of such narcissism. This was her wake-up call. And in a way, that was her best birthday present of all!