Marisol vs. Stacey

Marsiol sat on the sofa in her den as the image on their television screen captivated her husband Hector. Once again he was replaying the tapes of his wife wrestling against Maggie in their first private match against each other. She didn’t pay much attention to the television, but the squeals of enjoyment and obvious arousal her husband was experiencing made Marisol laugh. She was happy that she was able to bring such enjoyment to her favorite person in the world, not only once, but three times. Three times she had faced Maggie in a private, videotaped match, and each time she had not only ended up the victor, but more accurately, the dominator. And there was nothing Hector like more than to watch his wife dominate.

He had nothing against Maggie, in fact he had nothing against any of Marisol’s opponents, he just loved to watch his wife in action, especially when she was merciless. As the tape played on and the image of a decimated Maggie laying on the canvas filled the screen, finally Marsiol reacted.

“I can’t believe that you were actually was the champion of the POWA!” Marsiol murmured to Maggie’s image on the television. “I can’t believe that you won the crown from me!” she continued mumbling, the intensity in her voice gradually building as she slowly rose from the sofa, her irritation now obvious. Finally she stood up and walked over to the television and stood directly in front of the screen. “And I can’t believe that you lost the championship before I could win it back by humiliating you in front of thousands of people!” she now screamed at the image of a battered Maggie laying in a pool of her own sweat.

Hector stood up and walked over to his wife, embracing her in a bearhug. “It’s okay honey. First you will go and beat this Stacey girl on Saturday. Then you will go and beat whoever is champion. Then once you are champion again, you can settle the score with Maggie. Simple as that!”.

Marisol stood there quietly for a moment but then turned to her husband and wrapped her arms around the back of his neck. “I love you Hector. You always know what to do. What would I ever do without you?”

Hector looked down at his wife and smiled back. “Without me? You’ll never be without me, my amazon warrior!” And the two began to kiss as Maggie suffered behind them on their television screen, her image gradually fading to black.

But Marisol’s desire to earn her revenge against Maggie had not faded. Not only had Maggie taken the crown from her, but during that match, Marisol injured her ankle and was forced to miss a couple of months of action while she healed. But she was fully recovered now, and had proven so in her win over Sunshine in her first match after the injury. And next on the agenda was Stacey.

In the POWA rankings, Marisol was ranked number one, ToniAnn was ranked number two and Stacey was ranked number three. Since ToniAnn would be competing in the championship match against Helen on Saturday night, it would only seem logical that the winner of the Marisol vs. Stacey match would earn the next shot at the title. And Marisol was very determined that she would be the one wrestling next for the title.

But her opponent was a woman 11 years her junior, and one of the promising young wrestlers in the POWA. Though Stacey had suffered a tough loss at the hands of ToniAnn in her last match, it was nothing to be ashamed of. She had put up a gallant fight and the outcome could have went either way. But against Marisol, she would be facing her toughest challenge yet.

Stacey was enigma. Though attractive, in good shape and a good wrestler, she was also awkward and a bit aloof. Some of the other wrestlers, make that most of them, interpreted her aloofness as conceit. She was not very outgoing or friendly, and as such, did not have any real friends in the POWA.

But conversely, her popularity with the fans seemed to be growing with each match. At 5’8” and 132 pounds, Stacey was tall and thin, possessing a long and lean body. She put a great deal of care into her physical appearance, from her attire to her hair and make up, and it was appreciated by the fans. In fact, even after losing her last match, she still received a respectable ovation as she left the ring.

But none of it came easy to her. Stacey was not a natural beauty. It took time in order to look as good as she did, and lots of energy. Her light brown hair was very frizzy, but she knew just how to fix it so that it looked it’s best. Her face was relatively plain and nondescript, but she knew how to apply just the right amount and kind of make-up so as to appear beautiful. Even her body, though very attractive, needed some assistance.

Stacey was tall and thin, with a very shapely pair of long legs. She also abundant thighs, not overly wide, but certainly curvaceous. In contrast, her upper body was less curvy and more rectilinear. Her shoulders were narrow, her chest and tummy flat and her arms thin. But her suit was designed to accentuate her long legs and shapely thighs while de- emphasizing her small chest and thin arms.

It took quite a bit of work for everything to come together, but when she was done, she looked truly great. But the young woman was at an important point on her development as a POWA wrestler. Her record stood at 4 wins and 1 loss, but her wins were against lesser ranked woman, while her one loss was against the highest ranked opponent she had faced so far.

So while Stacey had done relatively well for herself to this point, this was an important match. She had already proven that she could beat the lower ranked wrestlers, but now, ranked number three, she would be facing the cream of the crop in the POWA. And in her first singles match against one of them, she had lost to ToniAnn. Another loss against Marisol, would certainly relegate her back to the lower echelon and force her to work her way back up, while a win would catapult her into a probable championship match.

So Stacey did not discount the importance of the match, and worked hard to prepare for it. She spent hours each day at the gym, tightening up her slender body, but still unable to add much bulk to her musculature. Though in great shape, Stacey did not possess a great deal of strength. She knew that she would need to build as much strength as she could against Marisol, who was a very powerful woman. But with time running out, she would have to make due with what she had.

The day of the match arrived, and Stacey showed up at the arena a full 3 hours prior to the start of her match. She strode into the locker room, emptied her bag of cosmetics, creams, sprays and the like and proceeded to take a shower while shaving her legs and armpits. She then did her hair, taking over 30 minutes to get it coifed just the way she wanted it.

Next came her face. Almost a full hour passed before she was happy with the completed cosmetics. Finally she slipped on her suit. This was only the second time she would be wearing it, but as she tried it on, the room seemed to begin to glow.

It was a white bikini sprinkled with tiny rhinestone-like sparkles which reflected the light. The top of the suit was a dog-collar style, with the white, clingy Lycra material rising up her front. It covered everything from the top of her stomach up to her neck, leaving only her shoulders exposed in front. Though her chest was quite small, the top did it’s best to accentuate it, squeezing her breasts softly. The two straps of her suit then connected behind her neck, hidden behind her hair and leaving her back completely exposed, with the exception of a thin band of material around the middle of her back.

The bottom of the suit was conservatively cut, with a waistband of the sparkles twinkling in the light. It was cut fairly high on her thighs however, helping to make her long legs appear to flow on for miles. She stood and twirled in front of the mirror, an uneasy smile crossing her face as she checked herself over.

Finally, the last step of the preparations was to work on her strongest feature, her legs. Stacey’s legs were long......make that........loooooooong. And before each match, she would rub them down with an oil which helped to draw even more attention to them. With only a few minutes to go, she hurriedly rubbed the oil into her gams, stretching her arms to reach all the way to her ankles.

Marisol meanwhile had arrived just about 45 minutes prior. She was a true warrior, and didn’t spend much time on her cosmetic appearance. She was an attractive woman, nice figure, pretty face, but she didn’t worry much about her make up and hair before a match. In fact it was rare that she would wear make up at all.

She had one of the attendants give her a massage to help loosen her muscles, and then spent 20 minutes running through a series of stretching exercises before changing into her outfit. Marisol wore a two piece, yellow suit, with the bottoms cut high on her thighs. It did a nice job of displaying her taut body, but also did little to hide some of her blemishes from a life of wrestling.

Though none were extremely noticeable, Marisol did give the appearance of a pampered woman. Her beauty was of a much more rugged nature than the cosmetically enhanced Stacey, and her face and body were all evidence of her years of experience.

While to many of the other women, wrestling was as much a performance as anything else, to Marisol it was a war, and nothing else. She did not worry about what the fans thought of her or how she looked, she only cared about beating her opponent. So as the time drew nearer, her adrenaline began to flow more rapidly.

In the next room, Stacey’s nerves began to tense as she heard the knock on her door. She was escorted to the entrance into the arena, and bounced nervously as she waited to be introduced. Though there was something about the spectacle of the introductions that she loved, there was also something about it that she hated. Stacey was uneasy with large crowds, but yet she enjoyed the attention that the process offered. But before she had more time to ponder, the doors flew open and the spotlight shined in her eyes.

She trotted toward the ring with her long legs carrying her majestically. The crowd erupted into heartfelt cheers, as her popularity seemed to once again be on the rise. She waved nervously, but her smile was obviously crooked and tense. The fans reached to slap her hands, but she did not reach back, instead continuing to stare straight ahead as she made her way to the ring.

She climbed through the ropes and began to bounce toward her corner, almost relieved that she had made it. But then the music blared once more and Marisol was introduced. The veteran warrior made her way slowly down the aisle as the crowd cheered, but not as enthusiastically as they had for Stacey. Stacey stared at Marisol the entire time, and noticed the steely look of determination in her eyes. Marisol did not even come close to smiling, instead a look of deep and intense concentration on her face as she glared up into the ring at Stacey.

Finally both wrestlers were in their corners as Desiree called them forward. Marisol did not take her eyes off of Stacey, staring into her eyes as she walked forward. Stacey tried to stare back, but was intimidated by the scowl on her opponents face, her eyes beginning to dart in all directions.

Every few seconds, Stacey would glance across at Marisol, but she would then quickly look away, gazing in every direction. Desiree finally sent them back to their corners, but not before Marsiol leaned forward, causing Stacey to jump backward. Marisol smiled devilishly at the nervousness of her foe before she turned and walked away, leaving Stacey to stand uncomfortable alone before awkwardly turning away as well.

Stacey began to hyperventilate as she stood in her corner. She was nervous and unfocussed, her mind racing. Marisol had gotten to her, and she desperately tried to calm herself. Noticing the advantage she had created for herself. Marsiol kept up the pressure. She began to bounce around in her corner, punching the air as animatedly as she could.

Finally the bell rang, and Marisol darted across the ring as Stacey ran the other way to avoid her attack. The crowd grew a little leery of Stacey’s retreat as she backpedaled away from Marisol, but eventually she calmed down and set herself into a crouch, waiting for the action to start. Her nervousness had no hurt her yet, but Marisol was slowly moving closer.

Stacey began to perspire as she felt Marsiol inching closer, but she then reacted by lunging forward, attacking her would be attacker. She locked arms with Marisol, catching her off guard before turning and hip tossing her intimidator across her thigh. Marisol landed on her butt with a thud as the crowd cheered the quick and unexpected offensive. Marisol’s face however quickly turned red with anger as she slapped the mat before jumping to her feet.

She stood up and glared at Stacey before charging at her with her arms stretched in front of her. But Stacey very alertly reached her arms forward and locked them onto Marisol’s. She then quickly lifted her long leg and planted her boot in Marisol’s stomach before using Marisol’s momentum while quickly falling backward to launch her into the air in a very effective Monkey Toss.

The veteran was furious as she landed hard on her back, sprawled out on the canvas. She let her anger get the best of her and she acted rashly, giving her opponent the opportunity to capitalize. She was also surprised at Stacey’s agility. She had thought that she had Stacey scared, but obviously that was not the case.

Stacey’s nervous energy had consumed her, and she quickly got to her feet and charged over toward Marisol, who had been able to get herself into a seated position. Marisol was ready for Stacey this time as she grabbed hold of both of Stacey’s outstretched arms, surprising the hasty youngster. Before Stacey could react, Marisol yanked her forward by her thin arms, flipping her over with a forceful arm drag.

Stacey flipped into the air and landed on her back, a bit disoriented and alot surprised. She was amazed at the quickness and power of the move and had not even anticipated it. But it was too late to worry about that now as Marisol was already on her feet and making her way over.

The crowd was cheering, with the volume of those cheers steadily growing as the action heated up. As Stacey tried to push herself up, Marisol reached her and grabbed a handful of her hair, yanking her onto her feet. The taller woman got her feet uneasily, hunched forward from Marisol’s hair pull.

The veteran then whipped Stacey forward, sending her racing majestically toward the corner on her long legs, before she turned, her back smacking against the turnbuckle. Marisol had taken off however, even before Stacey crashed into the corner, and was just a split second away from greeting her with a shoulder to her gut. But Stacey was able to grab hold of the top rope with both hands and hoist her lower body up into the air, sending Marisol hurling helplessly into the support pole.

Marisol’s shoulder rammed into the padded pole and she stumbled backward before dropping to one knee, moaning as she grabbed for her wounded joint. Just then Stacey’s butt came crashing down onto her, knocking her off of her knee and sending her crashing to the mat.

Marisol was now laying face down as Stacey stood ominously over her, her feet straddling the veteran’s back as she faced her legs. The collision had hurt Marisol, but it was not certain how badly. But regardless, Stacey was in a position of power as she planned her next move.

The crowd roared their approval at the fast paced action on the first couple of minutes of action. Hector looked on from the first row, surprised at how his wife had been outwrestled so far, and concerned about her shoulder. But as she tried to get a better look to see the expression on her face, Stacey pulled her legs out in front of her and dropped her butt down onto Marisol’s lower back.

The trapped Marisol let out a loud groan as Stacey’s hips crushed her into the canvas, and she tried to squirm free, but it was to no avail. Stacey positioned herself so that she remained perched atop Marisol’s lower back, her legs stretched on either side of her for leverage.

She then reached forward and grabbed hold of each of Marisol’s legs, curling them in closer to her and trapping her in a painful Boston Crab. The crowd began to cheer enthusiastically as the gangly young woman wrapped her arms around the front of Marisol’s thighs and pulled her legs back further into the painful hold.

Marisol knew she was in trouble, and knew that she had to act fast. Though her shoulder throbbed painfully, she was relatively unhurt otherwise and still feeling strong. But with each passing second, Stacey was securing the hold and causing more pain.

Marisol at first tired to reach up and back to grab a hold of her captor, but she quickly realized that she had little chance of successfully gaining a grip of her. She then took a few quick deep breaths and concentrated before putting all of her strength behind one mighty thrust of her legs. Stacey tried to resist, but Marisol’s superior leg strength forced her to catapult over and off her victim’s back, rolling to the mat at Marisol’s feet.

Marisol had broken the hold and forced Stacey off of her, but it was now a race to see who would get to their feet first. With a twinge in her back and her shoulder still throbbing, Marisol moved more slowly than her younger, spry opponent, and Stacey was on her feet before Marisol could get to hers.

So with Marisol kneeling on one knee, Stacey rushed over and grabbed a hold of her hair, standing over her. Unfazed, Marisol thrust her arms forward and wrapped them around the back of Stacey’s thighs before quickly pushing herself up onto her feet, thereby forcing the long body of her opponent to fall helplessly across her shoulder.

As Marisol stood up, Stacey’s upper body sank down from her shoulder and hung off of her back. Stacey began to flail her arms, punching and slapping at Marisol’s back, but it had little affect on the focused warrior. Marisol then began to back up, moving slowly at first to gain her footing, but picking up the pace as she reached the corner. Moving at a rapid pace, she then rammed Stacey’s back into the turnbuckle before backing away a few steps.

The long beauty hung off of Marisol and flailed her arms feverishly, but Marisol again propelled herself backward mashing Stacey’s spine into the turnbuckles. She was wedged between Marisol and the padded corner of the ring, as the veteran began to mechanically walk forward and then back into the corner, over and over. Stacey began to feel the crush of being mashed like a pancake, and it was slowly taking the fight out of her.

After several more pulverizing blows, Marisol stepped forward and then effortlessly dumped the long legs of her flattened foe off of her shoulders, sending her tumbling to the mat. A large portion of the crowd voiced their displeasure, but a small but vocal minority began to become more vocal in their cheers for the Puerto Rican warrior.

As Stacey writhed on the mat, trying to ease the pain in her back, Marisol charged over and reached down, grabbing a hold of frizzy, light brown hair. She forcefully began to pull Stacey onto her feet, but once her slender victim got to her knees, Marisol wrapped her hand around Stacey’s throat, and lifted her up the rest of the way.

Stacey’s face began to turn bright red as Desiree walked over to investigate. Marisol then took her other hand and shoved it between Stacey’s legs before digging her fingers into Stacey’s groin. The tall beauty’s face turned pale white for an instant as she tried to scream, but her throat was constricted by Marisol’s grip.

With a heave, Marisol lifted Stacey off of the canvas by her throat and groin, hoisting the taller woman horizontally into the air. Desiree moved closer to examine Marisol’s grip, and noticed the choke.

“Let her down Marisol!” came the warning.

The fully extended Marisol turned to Desiree and grimaced, “Why!”

“That’s a choke! Now let her down!” came the forceful reply.

Meanwhile, Stacey’s elongated body remained stiff as a board over Marisol’s head, as her face grew more pale and vacant.

“It’s not a choke. She’s in a carry!” argued Marisol sarcastically, now obviously stalling.

”Last warning Marisol! If you don’t let her down now, I’m going to disqualify you!”

By now, Marisol’s outstretched body began to tremble from holding her prey overhead. She hesitated for another moment, in defiance of the order, but then grunted and tossed Stacey’s body forward and further into the air. Almost as if flying, Stacey’s long body soared forward before rapidly declining and then smashing painfully into the mat. She landed with a crash, her body rolling awkwardly over several times before grinding to a halt near the side ropes.

More of the crowd began to cheer at the awesome display of strength as Marisol took a few deep breaths, smiling at the cheers. She placed her hands on her knees for a couple of seconds, but then lifted herself upright and walked slowly toward her fallen prey.

Stacey’s body shuddered as she breathed deeply, still in obvious pain. Her windpipe felt crushed, but even worse, the stinging, piercing pain from between her legs emanated throughout her body. She rolled onto her side, her legs pressed tightly together as she grabbed hold of her throat with one of her hands, the other pressing against the mat to hold her steady.

But before she knew what hit her, Marisol was once again on top of her, this time grabbing hold of her ankles. The veteran pulled both of Stacey’s legs up into the air, a firm grip on each of her ankles as she spread her legs apart. She then stepped between them, placing her right knee against the fleshy part of Stacey’s inner thigh.

Stacey feared the worst, and her fears were soon realized as Marisol forced her weight down onto Stacey’s leg, causing it to drop to the mat. Stacey’s body rolled to the side as her leg was forced toward the canvas, Marisol’s knee forcing it downward. It whirled swiftly until it landed with a THUD, Marisol’s knee digging deeply and violently into the soft part of her inner thigh, causing Stacey to wail in torment.

The crowd gasped as Stacey’s cries were ear splitting, her leg in agony. Marisol however remained kneeling on Stacey’s trapped leg, driving her knee deeper into the muscles of Stacey’s thigh. Stacey was in agony and desperate. She knew that she either had to do something instantly, or submit before her gorgeous leg was damaged forever.

With her other leg still free, she lifted it and then drove it across toward Marisol. She lunged it down against the back of Marisol’s neck, catching her off guard. Marisol tumbled over, her knee lifted off of Stacey’s leg as the tall beauty tried to trap Marisol’s head between her legs.

Her right leg was still in tremendous pain, but she was able to put enough force into her left leg, that she eventually got Marisol trapped in a head scissors. With Marisol now laying on the mat, Stacey adjusted her position so that she exerted more downward pressure with her left leg, squeezing Marisol between them.

The crowd erupted as Marisol struggled to wedge her hands between Stacey’s thighs, trying to pry them apart. But Stacey was gradually locking her grip in place. Her wounded right leg was laying against the mat so that it acted as a cushion for Marisol’s neck, all of the downward pressure being exerted by Stacey’s left leg, the undamaged one.

With each passing second, Stacey gained confidence. She watched Marisol try to free herself, and felt her hands trying to wedge themselves between her legs, but she was able to keep the advantage. She even began to feel a bit cocky, and felt that the end of the match was near.

Stacey couldn’t resist the opportunity to taunt Marisol, after the pain she inflicted on her to this point. She looked down at her and whispered angrily, “I call this the Curvaceous Crush, and you’ll see why right.....NOW!”

Stacey’s face began to grimace as she exerted as much pressure as she could to the head scissors. Marisol began to wriggle on the mat, the pressure on her neck becoming unbearable. She realized that she would be unable to pry Stacey’s legs apart, and so she began to desperately formulate another escape route.

Marisol tried to turn her trapped head slightly, and was able to get herself in position to try her only defense. She opened her mouth and as soon as Stacey softened her grip slightly to adjust her position, Marisol turned her head further and bit down on the inside of Stacey’s thigh.

The long legged beauty began to scream, but with Marisol’s head facing the mat, and still wedged between Stacey’s limbs, Desiree could not see the bite. Stacey began to flail her arms wildly and scream even louder, tears welling in her eyes. The crowd again gasped at the piercing screams of the tormented Stacey, and finally Desiree began to slap Marisol’s back. she knew what was happening, even though she couldn’t see it.

Stacey’s cried echoed through the arena as the supple skin on her thighs was being mercilessly mauled by Marisol. Finally the vicious Puerto Rican woman released her bite, and Stacey rolled onto her side, curling her wounded leg in toward her body. Desiree looked down at Marisol and shook her head in disgust. Marisol looked back and sneered, angry with the ref.

Marisol’s face was perspiring heavily, her hair disheveled from being trapped by the long legs of her now crying opponent. But even worse, she was angry. It was bad enough Stacey had trapped her in the head scissors, a good move she would admit, but she taunted her in the process, and that was not something Marisol took kindly too.

So the veteran got to her feet, caught her breath and then looked down at her wounded foe. The expression on her face and redness in her eyes was evidence of her anger, an anger which could prove very dangerous for Stacey, and in fact already had.

She walked up behind the grounded Stacey, who was laying on her side, her back curled and her leg rolled in toward her body. Marisol set herself, drew her leg back, and then punted it forward, violently driving the toe of her yellow wrestling boot into the small of Stacey’s back.

Stacey’s body uncoiled and she let out a painful scream. But as her long torso unfolded, Marisol dropped downward, driving her knee into Stacey’s extended gut, and mashing it into the mat. Stacey’s upper body instinctively lifted, and Marisol greeted it by grabbing her on other side of her head while thrusting her own head forward and driving the top of her forehead into the bridge of Stacey’s nose.

Stacey collapsed backward, her hands rising quickly to her face as she sobbed loudly, Marisol still pressing her knee into her stomach. Desiree stood by and watched, shaking her head at the devastation which was taking place.

Stacey was completely overwhelmed by the quick and brutal attack which Marisol had just unleashed on her. Her thighs ached uncontrollably, her belly was being pulverized, her back was in agony, but worst of all, her head screamed in pain. She was out of it!

But Marisol’s anger had not yet subsided, and her desire to teach the younger wrestler a lesson was paramount to her. She focused her attention on the agonized beauties legs, Stacey’s pride and joy and the source of her signature move.

“Curvaceous Crush?” Marisol thought to herself as she moved herself into position, “we’ll see about the Curvaceous Crush!”

With that, she set herself in front of Stacey’s feet, while the tall grappler floundered on the mat below her. Knowing that she was in no position to defend herself, Marisol began to set up her finishing hold on the beleaguered Stacey.

First Marisol reached down and grabbed hold of Stacey’s right ankle, pulling her leg up off of the mat. Then she rolled her over and onto her stomach, still clutching tightly onto Stacey’s ankle. Marisol then positioned herself so that her feet straddled Stacey’s lower back as she looked down at the troubled girl’s legs.

With a fierce look of determination on her face, Marisol leaned forward, crouched down, and grabbed hold of Stacey’s left ankle. With both of the pretty girl’s long legs in her possession, Marisol then began to bend Stacey’s left leg to the side, forcing it downward until her left foot was now resting against the back of her right knee.

Marisol then began to pull back on the right ankle of her victim, which in turn trapped her left foot in the crux of her right knee Marisol continued to force Stacey’s right leg backward, her Scorpion Hold almost complete.

Stacey began to squeal from the pressure the hold was putting on both her legs. Her left leg was bent to the side, her left foot trapped behind her right knee, which was screaming with pain from being bent in half. But Marisol was still not done. Wanting to put more pressure on the hold, she lifted herself up and then pressed her butt down against Stacey’s trapped right leg.

The result was an excruciatingly, inescapable hold. Stacey began to wail at the top of her lungs, her gorgeous legs being bent like a pretzel. Marisol smiled and turned back toward her.

“I guess you won’t be crushing anything with these legs for awhile, will you bitch?”, she whispered menacingly to the agonized Stacey. But the pretty girl was in too much pain to even listen, as she continued to scream and beg for mercy. Desiree came running over, realizing the severity of the situation. It was a perfectly legal hold, but she knew that it could cripple Stacey if it was held for too long.

“Do you.......” she began to ask Stacey. But the tortured wrestler did not even wait until the question was asked.

“YYYEEESSS....I.....I.....GIVE!!!!” she squealed in a trembling voice.

Desiree signaled furiously for the bell, and then rushed over toward Marisol.

“Break it Marisol, she submitted” Desiree ordered. But Marisol defiantly smirked at her, instead jumping down harder on the trapped leg of her injured foe.

“THAT’S ENOUGH......BREAK IT!” Desiree ordered again, but instead Marisol jumped down on the trapped leg once more, causing Stacey to wail even louder.

“YOU ARE GOING TO CRIPPLE HER!” Desiree yelled, trying to appeal to Marisol’s sensible side. Marisol turned and looked up at Desiree before slowly lifting her weight off of Stacey’s leg and rising to her feet.

Stacey immediately rolled onto her side and wrapped her arms around her knees, sobbing and quivering. Marisol lifted her arm over her head as Desiree moved closer to indicate the winner.

“You didn’t have to hurt her like that” Desiree whispered to her. Marisol smirked, looked back and whispered. “That’s nothing. You wait until I get Maggie in this ring. That’s when you better really be on your toes!” she warned.

Desiree lowered her arm and walked over toward Stacey to check on her. She was crying uncontrollably, and rolling back and forth while clutching her legs. Marisol walked threateningly close to her as she made her way out of the ring, climbing through the ropes.

As she jumped down to the floor, Hector was waiting for her and immediately gave her a big hug.

“Another masterful performance my Warrior Queen!"” Hector whispered in her ear. Marisol looked back at him and smiled.

“I do it all for you Hector!”

And with that, Marisol turned and made her way back to the locker rooms with the crowd cheering in obvious respect for her skills. She was back from her injury!

Meanwhile, back in the ring, a devastated Stacey was quite the opposite as she began to receive help from the attendants. She was in agony and fearful that her knees were injured as she continued to sob quietly while the medics tried to ease her pain while checking her legs.

It was obvious that she was not yet ready to compete against the elite wrestlers of the POWA. Though she had held her own against Marisol from much of the match, when Marisol “turned it up”, Stacey was no match for her.

It took awhile, but eventually she was helped up and lifted back to the locker room. She was then taken to the hospital to insure that she did not suffer any injuries as a result of the Scorpion Hold. Not exactly the way she had hoped to end the night!