Jocelyn Satin vs Knockoutman (The Divorce is Final)

The camera springs to life, revealing a man’s silhouette hunched over a keyboard in a dimly lit room, the soft glow of the computer screen casting a pale luminescence on his intent face. Stacks of papers and scattered notes pepper the desk around him, testament to his fervent dedication. As the lens gracefully orbits him, it zeroes in on a pivotal click of the mouse, a portal into a video that fluidly leaps from digital to tangible reality. Within this captivating visual, the scene transitions to a lush backyard oasis, bathed in the golden hues of late afternoon sunlight. Vibrant flowers burst forth in a riot of colors, while an old oak tree stretches its arms toward the heavens, casting a gentle shadow over the scene. A mischievous puppy chases sunbeams in the background, its joyful antics a harmonious melody to the unfolding drama.

Stationary yet commanding, Jocelyn Satin comes into focus. She stands amidst the natural beauty like a queen ready to conquer her realm. Clad in sleek charcoal leggings and a form-fitting sports bra, her attire hints at the energy and purpose that courses through her veins. Cascades of peach blonde, with hints of honey and soft tawny undertones, flow down her back, each strand catching the sun’s embrace and reflecting a warm, radiant glow. Her hair seems to hold the very essence of a sun-kissed meadow, giving her an ethereal aura that harmonizes perfectly with the surrounding world. Her eyes, a captivating shade of greenish-blue aquamarine hue, hold a mesmerizing mixture of determination and vulnerability. Every curve of her body is highlighted by the snug leggings and sports bra, accentuating her lean strength and innate grace. The outfit punctuates her physique, emphasizing her lithe form and sculpted muscles, a testament to both her physical prowess and inner poise.

With the scene now set, Jocelyn looks directly into the camera, her gaze seemly attempting to connect with the eyes of her dedicated fans. Her voice carries a blend of camaraderie and gravitas as she begins to speak.

“Hello, everyone,” she starts, her tone inviting and warm. “I wanted to take this moment to share something important with all of you. The journey we’ve been on, the support you’ve shown—it’s been an incredible ride, and I’m deeply grateful for each and every one of you.” But then, a transformation unfolds. Jocelyn’s tone sharpens, her expression intensifying as if a switch has been flipped.

“However,” she continues, her words now igniting like sparks, “there’s something I can no longer keep silent about. It’s time to address an issue that’s been festering for the past couple of weeks.” Her eyes narrow, and the atmosphere changes, an avid tirade taking shape against none other than Knockoutman.

“Knockoutman,” she says, her voice firm and unyielding, “you’ve tested my patience and loyalty beyond measure. You are the scum of the earth, honestly I tried to keep my composure and remain out of this, but you took things to far.” The narrative shifts gears dramatically, becoming an emotional rollercoaster as she dives headfirst into their shared history.

“Remember when we were Lovers, happily married united together?” Jocelyn’s voice trembles with a mix of sorrow and anger. “When we fought side by side, our bond woven together by threads of love and trust?” Now, those threads are unraveling into resentment, and her frustration leaps off the screen.

“Your actions have shattered that trust, and love dissolved a long time ago, but now you not only hurt me but you tried hurting my friends too” she declares, her every word a firebrand aimed squarely at the heart of her foe. Her words hang in the air, charged with emotion. The transformation from camaraderie to confrontation is intense, a powerful testament to her resolve as she faces the camera, her message resounding with unwavering strength.

“How could you?” she demands, a storm brewing in her eyes. “You let Kumiko step onto that mat with Smallz, a monster that’s laid waste to every woman who dared cross his path. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, Emerald, the reigning champion, snuffed out what was left of her spirit. Kumiko deserved better—she deserved a chance to ease back in, not be thrust into a hurricane of brutality.”

As the emotional storm rages on in the digital scene, the camera’s focus gradually begins to shift, its perspective pulling away from the captivating drama unfolding within the video. The lush backyard oasis, Jocelyn Satin’s resolute voice, and the intensity of her confrontation with Knockoutman start to recede into the background. The golden hues of the late afternoon sunlight soften, and the meadow with its vibrant flowers transforms back into pixels on a screen. The camera’s orbit slows, revealing the dimly lit room and the man seated at the keyboard, hunched over in concentration. With a seamless transition, the scene pivots to unveil the man’s face. As the camera gently withdraws its view, his features come into clarity—the furrowed brows, the intense gaze, and the mixture of emotions etched across his countenance. It becomes evident that the man watching the video, hanging onto every word of Jocelyn’s impassioned speech, is none other than Knockoutman himself. The very subject of Jocelyn’s tirade is revealed, creating a poignant juxtaposition between the turmoil depicted in the video and the turmoil brewing within the man’s own mind. The screen’s glow casts shadows on his face, highlighting the inner rage bellowing in his expression.

Knockoutman’s hands tighten into fists, his knuckles turning white as the video continues to play. His breath quickens, the sound almost drowning out the furious beating of his heart. The emotional rollercoaster that Jocelyn’s words have unleashed upon him is nothing short of overwhelming. He watches as she lays bare the shattered pieces of their history, recounting moments that were once filled with love and trust, now tainted by the venom of betrayal. His eyes remain fixed on the screen, the view count ticking up steadily, the numbers climbing into the millions. The weight of those numbers presses down on his chest, each digit a testament to the multitude of eyes witnessing Jocelyn scold him. He can practically feel the judgment radiating through the pixels, the comments section a minefield of condemnation and disrespect.

His trembling hand reaches for the mouse, and he clicks on the comment section. A barrage of insults and accusations greets him, words that cut deeper than any physical blow. “Traitor.” “Disgrace.” “Monster.” The comments echo the sentiment of the video, amplifying his shame and igniting the flames of his fury.

As he scrolls through the vitriol, his mind becomes a battleground. The room around him seems to shrink, the walls closing in on his turmoil. He can feel the sweat on his forehead, the rapid thudding of his pulse reverberating in his ears. The world outside the video blurs as his focus narrows on the screen, on the woman who once stood by his side, now condemning him with every ounce of her being. With a sudden surge of energy, he slams his hand on the desk, the impact jolting the scattered papers and notes. The fury that’s been simmering within him erupts, a torrent of anger and regret that threatens to consume him.

As the minutes tick by, Knockoutman’s clenched fists slowly begin to relax, his knuckles returning to their normal color. The initial surge of anger and indignation starts to give way to a more calculated and sinister resolve. He takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with newfound determination. The chaos in his mind begins to organize itself into a plan, a way to turn the tide and regain control over the narrative.

His lips curl into a cruel smile, his gaze shifting from the screen to the reflection in the monitor. He sees himself, not as the wounded ex-lover, but as the mastermind orchestrating his own redemption. He starts typing furiously, his fingers dancing across the keyboard with a newfound purpose. The hateful comments that once seemed like an insurmountable barrier now become tools for his vengeance. With every keystroke, his demeanor shifts from wounded to cunning. He crafts a response that drips with sarcasm and disdain, an artful counterstrike that is sure to provoke a reaction. He calculates his words carefully, knowing that he can’t afford to be reckless. He wants to lure Jocelyn into his trap, to manipulate her emotions and lead her straight into the mat room, where he intends to destroy her both physically and mentally. As he continues to type, his mind becomes a web of strategy and manipulation. He’s not just defending himself anymore; he’s taking control of the narrative, manipulating the audience’s perception, and setting the stage for a showdown that will both satisfy his thirst for revenge and reaffirm his dominance. His breath steadies, his heart no longer racing with uncontrollable rage, but with the anticipation of what’s to come. With a final flourish of his fingers, he hits the “send” button. The comment is posted, a venomous retort that will surely get under Jocelyn’s skin. He leans back in his chair, his smile growing wider. He can already see the reactions rolling in, the comments section once again becoming a battleground, but this time, he’s the one wielding the weapon.

His demeanor has transformed completely. He’s no longer the broken man watching a video in anguish. He’s now the puppet master, pulling the strings and manipulating the situation to his advantage. The sense of power and control intoxicates him, filling the void that was once occupied by shame and doubt. The mat room beckons, and he envisions the confrontation that lies ahead. The excitement builds within him, the thrill of the fight mingling with the satisfaction of his carefully calculated plan. Knockoutman rises from his chair, his steps purposeful and confident. He knows that the stage is set, the pieces are in place, and the battle he’s been yearning for is about to begin.

The camera fades to black as a title card appears stating, “A few days later…”

 

Then we are whisked to the white-walled blue mat room where an infuriated Jocelyn stood in the center of the mat room, her vibrant attire a stark contrast to the intensity of her emotions. Clad in a two-piece bikini that melded bold yellow and deep blue, her outfit seemed to mirror the storm within her. The bikini was adorned with shimmers of bedazzled sequins, their glimmers catching the overhead lights like tiny stars sewn into the fabric. The sequins lined the trim of the bikini, tracing delicate patterns that sparkled with a fierce radiance.

 

The bikini top accentuated her large breast, as her nipples strained against the fabric of top. The colors seemed to frame her form like a vibrant canvas, emphasizing her curves and the sculpted muscles that lay beneath her skin. The yellow and blue hues, though vivid, were eclipsed by the fierce fire in her eyes. Her chest heaved with each breath, her anger and determination palpable in the air around her.

 

Jocelyn’s demeanor exuded power, her shoulders squared and her stance unyielding. The tension in her body was mirrored by the furrow of her brows, a testament to the thoughts swirling in her mind. Her usually warm aquamarine eyes blazed with a tumultuous mix of emotions—anger, betrayal, and a simmering need for retribution. The spark that had once united her and Knockoutman in love and partnership now ignited a fierce inferno of determination to confront and conquer.

 

Her locks of peach blonde hair, kissed by sunlight, is pulled back into a ponytail, and secured with a black elastic band. Her locks, with their golden hues catching the light and shimmering like the sequins on her bikini. Even in her rage, there was a grace to her presence, an undeniable elegance that belied the turmoil within. The bedazzled sequences along the edges of her bikini seemed to echo the sharpness of her presence, each glint and sparkle punctuating the weight of her emotions.

 

As she stared into the camera, her lips were set in a firm line, her jaw clenched with resolve. The room seemed to pulse with her energy, the anticipation of the battle ahead filling every inch of space. Her arms remained crossed, muscles taut beneath her sun-kissed skin, a physical manifestation of the strength she had cultivated. In her stance and expression, there was a silent promise—a promise that she would not back down, that she would confront Knockoutman and the turmoil he had caused head-on, no matter the cost.

 

Jocelyn’s gaze held an unyielding intensity, one that cut through the lens and reached out to anyone watching. It was as if her very presence demanded attention, her emotions raw and unfiltered. The anger that radiated from her was a force to be reckoned with, a storm that had been brewing beneath the surface and was now unleashed upon the world. In her yellow and blue bikini, bedazzled and fierce, she stood ready to face her once-lover with an unflinching determination that left no room for doubt.

 

Across from her stood Knockoutman, his average height of 5 foot 10 inches and off-average build serving as a deceptive mask for the power that lay beneath. His dark black hair, neatly groomed, gave him an air of authority that seemed to silently assert his dominance. The distinctive KMW tattoo on his right calf only further solidified his identity as the owner and operator of Knockoutman’s Wrestling. His attire, a simple pair of black wrestling trunks, showcased his strong legs and honed physique, enhancing his imposing presence.

 

Knockoutman’s expression mirrored Jocelyn’s intensity, but his demeanor carried a different kind of energy. The corners of his lips curled into a wicked smile, an expression that revealed a sadistic pleasure in the role he was about to assume. His eyes, a piercing shade of hazel, danced with a mix of excitement and triumph, feasting on the fear and vulnerability that flickered within Jocelyn’s gaze. He relished the power he held over her, a power born from their shared history and the pain he had inflicted upon her.

 

Jocelyn took a step forward, her voice resonating through the empty mat room, her words a defiant challenge to Knockoutman. “I’m here now, and I don’t have much time to waist I ready to get this match started, I gonna whoop you ass for what you did to my friend Kumiko.”

Knockoutman’s sadistic smile widened as he stretched his arms out casually, his eyes never leaving Jocelyn’s. “Ah, Jocelyn,” he purred, his voice dripping with a mix of confidence and malice. “You never learn, do you? Always trying to play the hero, but you’re just a pawn in my game.”

 

Jocelyn’s fists clenched, her nails digging into her palms as she fought to keep her composure. She refused to let his words penetrate her resolve. “This isn’t about games, Knockoutman,” she spat back, her voice laced with a venomous determination. “This is about justice. And I’m here to make sure you pay for what you’ve done.”

 

Knockoutman chuckled, a low, sinister sound that sent a shiver down Jocelyn’s spine. “Justice, you say? Well, my dear Jocelyn, let’s see if you can handle the punishment I have in store for you.” He took a step towards her, his eyes gleaming with sadistic anticipation.

 

Jocelyn tensed, her body poised for a fight, but before she could even react, Knockoutman lunged forward, his arm outstretched in a vicious clothesline that connected with Jocelyn’s throat. The impact was brutal, knocking her off her feet and sending her crashing down to the mat room floor. Jocelyn’s body convulsed in pain, her eyes wide with shock, as she clutched her throat, desperately gasping for air. Knockoutman stood tall over her, his violent grin widening. “That’s just the beginning, Jocelyn,” he taunted, his voice dripping with delight. “I told you, this is no ordinary match. I’ll show you just how much power I possess.”

Struggling to catch her breath, Jocelyn tried to push herself up onto her hands and knees, her body trembling. But before she could regain her footing, Knockoutman delivered a devastating punt kick straight to Jocelyn’s gut connecting squarely with her abdomen. As the force of the clothesline and the punt kick sent shockwaves of pain through Jocelyn’s body, her vision blurred and her head throbbed. The world seemed to spin around her, her senses dulled by the quick assault from Knockoutman. Each breath became a struggle, the ache in her throat and the burning in her abdomen intensifying with every gasp.

Jocelyn’s muscles trembled, weakened by the sudden onslaught. Her body, screamed in protest as she fought to find her feet, but her efforts were futile. She remained on her hands and knees, her limbs shaking with exhaustion. Knockoutman’s laughter filled the mat room, a sinister symphony that echoed off the white walls. He circled Jocelyn like a predator stalking its wounded prey, reveling in her vulnerability. “Oh, Jocelyn,” he jeered, his voice dripping with vicious pleasure. “You were always the weak, and it seems that since we split you let yourself go. For real sweety, I am going to destroy your flabby abs, then I will pick a new body part and destroy that, and I will continue destroying every part of you until I hear you apologize for saying those nasty things about me.

Jocelyn’s mind raced, filled with a mix of panic and determination. She had faced off against other opponents and even had friendly matches with Knockoutman before, but she had never encountered such a ruthless and sadistic adversary and definitely had never seen this sadistic side of Knockoutman. She knew she had to dig deep, find that inner strength to push through the pain and fight back. But before she could gather her bearings, Knockoutman gripped her by her ponytail and lifted her up to standing position. He then yanked back on her pony tail slowly walking her back to the side wall.

“Feel the power, Jocelyn,” Knockoutman growled, his voice a sinister hiss. “Feel the weight of what your words has driven to me.” He tugged harder, and Jocelyn’s head yanked back, causing her to cry out in pain. Her scalp throbbed, and a wave of dizziness washed over her as she was forcibly walked across the mat room floor. Each step felt like an eternity, the ache in her head intensifying with every inch.

 

Finally reaching the side wall, Knockoutman released his tight grip on Jocelyn’s hair, causing her to stumble forward, her back crashing into the unforgiving surface. She winced as her shoulder and back collided with the wall, the impact jarring her senses. Insticevly she tired to rubbed her scalp to regain some feeling back to her tender head.

Knockoutman stepped back, admiring the sight before him. Jocelyn, disoriented and weakened, slumped against the wall, her head hung low. He wanted to break her, to humble her, to show her the consequences of crossing him. With a wicked smirk, he lunged forward, his body colliding with Jocelyn’s once again. His belly slammed into Jocelyn’s midsection, the impact driving the air from her lungs in a painful rush. She let out a gasp, her body folding forward, her face contorted in agony. Knockoutman held her there, savoring the moment, the feel of her vulnerable body against his. Tears welled up in Jocelyn’s eyes as the pain overwhelmed her. She clutched her aching stomach, feeling the bruising already blossoming under her fingertips. It felt as though the wind had been knocked out of her, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she struggled to regain control of her body. Knockoutman pushed himself forcefully off of Jocelyn pressing all his weight against her heaving breast restrained by the thin fabric of her  bikini top, ensuring to twist Jocelyn’s nipples as he did it. She whimpered in pain, her body bowing under the pressure, the air trapped in her lungs desperate to escape.

“You see, Jocelyn?” Knockoutman’s voice taunted, barely audible above the sounds of Jocelyn’s strangled gasps for air. “This is what happens when you bad mouth me. When you think you can bring me down. You’ll always be nothing more than a jobber, weak and easily defeated. And I’m going to make sure you never forget it.”

Jocelyn’s eyes watered, her body trembling from the agony and humiliation of the situation. She tried to summon her inner strength, to find a way to escape, but it felt as though her limbs had turned to lead. The world around her faded, her vision clouded by the pain and the ever-present darkness creeping at the edges of her consciousness.

As her body begin to slow and slumped down against the wall, Knockoutman intervene, with cruel glee he delivered a soul-sucking gut punch to Jocelyn’s exposed abdomen. The impact reverberated through her body, causing her to double over in pain. She let out a guttural cry, her hands instinctively clutching at her bloated stomach as her body spasmed uncontrollably.  Knockoutman though was not, having that and brushed her hand away delivering another gut-wrenching blow to her stomach. The force of the punch knocked the wind out of Jocelyn, leaving her gasping for breath. Her body convulsed in agony, each muscle cramping and contorting under the sheer force of the blow. With her back literally against the wall, and Knockoutman unrelenting in his assault, Jocelyn’s eyes lost focus, and she could feel her body beginning to go limp. Her limbs grew heavy and unresponsive, her strength waning with every passing second. The pain radiated throughout her body like a fire, consuming her from within.

Knockoutman reveled in his dominance, his sadistic laughter piercing the air. “You see, Jocelyn?” he sneered, his voice dripping with cruel satisfaction. “No matter how hard you try, you can never escape your fate. You, Kumiko all your friends are nothing more than mere jobbers, destined to be dominated and broken by someone like me.” Jocelyn’s vision blurred, tears streaming down her cheeks as she tried desperately to fight through the pain. Her body trembled, her muscles spasming in protest, but it was a losing battle. She was at the mercy of Knockoutman, subjected to his whims, his cruel intentions. As Jocelyn’s consciousness teetered on the edge, Knockoutman was relentless and deliver two gut busting kicks straight to the solar plex of Jocelyn with sickening precision. The impact was brutal, causing Jocelyn to crumple to the floor in a heap of pain and helplessness. A strangled cry escaped her lips as her body convulsed, her hands instinctively clutching her aching abdomen. Every breath felt like a battle, her chest heaving with deep, ragged gasps.

Knockoutman towered over her, a sick smirk etched onto his face. “Such a pathetic sight,” he mocked, his voice dripping with sinnsiter delight. “You thought you could stand up to me? You thought you could defend poor Kumiko’s honor? How foolish.” Jocelyn’s eyes flickered with fury and determination, despite the overwhelming pain that consumed her. With a trembling hand, she weakly tried to push herself up, but her body betrayed her. She groaned, her muscles screaming in protest as she slumped back to the mat room floor, defeated. “You are nothing more than a punching bag, Jocelyn,” Knockoutman continued, his voice filled with contempt. “A plaything for me to toy with. And I’ve only just begun.”

As Jocelyn lay sprawled on the mat room floor, gasping for air, Knockoutman circled her like a predator closing in on its prey. A sadistic smile played upon his lips as he saw the exhaustion and defeat etched in her features. Ready to deliver a blow to crush her spirit and break her will, Knockoutman grabbed hold of Jocelyn’s shoulders and forcefully pulled her up into a sitting position. Jocelyn’s body trembled as she struggled to keep her eyes open, her vision hazy and unfocused.

She weakly protested, her voice filled with defiance. “You… won’t… defeat me…,” she managed to choke out, the words barely audible through her labored breaths.

But Knockoutman simply laugh inwardly, his grip tightening on her shoulders. “Oh, Jocelyn,” he taunted, his voice dripping with sadistic amusement. “You have no idea what you’re up against. Allow me to show you.” With lightning speed, Knockoutman wrapped his strong arms around Jocelyn’s neck, securing her in a tight sleeper hold. His powerful biceps constricted around her throat, cutting off her air supply. Simultaneously, he entwined his legs around her waist, applying a punishing body scissors. Jocelyn’s eyes widened in panic as the dual submission hold tightened around her. Her struggles intensified as she fought against the vice-like grip constricting her throat and squeezing her midsection. Her hands clawed at the arms encircling her, desperately trying to find a point of weakness.

“I… won’t… give…,” Jocelyn gasped, her voice strained and hoarse. Despite her determination, she could feel her strength ebbing away with each passing second. The lack of oxygen and the pressure on her abdomen made her body feel heavy and sluggish.

Knockoutman’s sadistic laughter filled the air as he tightened his grip, relishing in Jocelyn’s futile resistance. “Just accept it, Jocelyn,” he taunted, his voice laced with smug satisfaction. “Embrace the inevitable. Your resistance is pointless.” Jocelyn’s struggles grew weaker, her body going limp as the lack of oxygen took its toll. Her protests faded into choked gasps, her voice reduced to strained whispers. The fight drained from her, left hanging by a thread. As her eyes started to roll back in her head, a small trickle of drool escaped her parted lips, pooling onto Knockoutman’s arm and staining the mat beneath them. It was a telltale sign that Jocelyn’s consciousness was slipping away, that she had finally succumbed to the devastating effects of the sleeper hold and body scissors combination. Her body convulsed once more, a final protest before surrendering to the darkness. The tension in her limbs released, and her eyes rolled fully into the back of her head. Jocelyn’s head lolled to the side, her face marked with a mix of pain and serenity. Knockoutman released his hold on Jocelyn’s lifeless body, allowing her to slump to the mat room floor with a dull thud, her face landing in the pool of saliva that had escaped her while she fought against the draining sleeper and body scissors. A twisted grin spread across Knockoutman’s face as he stood over her, reveling in his handy work. He kicked her limp body lightly with his foot, relishing in the lack of response.

“Well, well, well,” he sneered, his voice dripping with sadistic triumph. “Looks like the tough Jocelyn Satin isn’t so tough after all. Just a weak, pathetic jobber, that likes to trash behind the screen but can’t back it up in person.” Jocelyn’s unconscious form lay unmoving, an embodiment of devasting sleeper hold waist scissor combo. The mat room exuded a tense silence, the only sound the steady hum of the air conditioning. With a cruel smirk, Kockoutman bent down, his hand reaching for Jocelyn’s ponytail. His fingers tangled in the tresses, and with a swift, forceful motion, he lifted her partially off the mat, showcasing her defeated form. Jocelyn hung in his grasp, her body limp and lifeless, a mere ragdoll in the hands of her merciless tormentor. Her face, pale and serene in unconsciousness, bore the marks of the punishment she had endured. Sweat mingled with the traces of tears on her brow. The faintest hint of a drool stain remained on her chin, a telltale sign of her ultimate surrender. With a contemptuous snarl, Knockoutman effortlessly discarded Jocelyn, allowing her body to fall back to the mat with a sickening thud. Her lifeless face slammed against the unforgiving surface, a cruel punctuation to the one-sided slaughter taking place.

As Jocelyn lay motionless on the mat, her body battered and her consciousness sailed off into dreamland, Knockoutman saw an opportunity to further torment his fallen opponent. Knockoutman carefully positioned himself behind Jocelyn and lowered himself as he set up to apply the Boston crab hold. His hands reached for Jocelyn’s legs, gripping them firmly as he leaned back, applying excruciating pressure to her back.

Jocelyn jolted awake with a pain-filled scream that echoed through the mat room. Her eyes shot open wide as the intensity of the hold jarred her back to reality. “Aaahhh! No! Please!” she cried out, her voice laced with agony and desperation. The pain shot through her entire body, searing through her back and radiating down to her legs.

Knockoutman took joy in Jocelyn’s anguish, his pleasure evident in his cold gaze. “I hope you enjoyed your little nap, Jocelyn,” he sneered, wrenching back even harder on her legs. “But now it’s time to wake up to the reality of your defeat.” Jocelyn’s body trembled, her face contorted in anguish as she fought against the unbearable pain. Each second felt like an eternity as the pressure on her back intensified. Tears streamed down her face as she futilely clawed at the mat, trying to find any leverage or escape from the excruciating hold.

Her gasps for air turned to desperate groans of pain as she tried to muster the strength to endure. “N-no… I… can’t… take… anymore,” she managed to choke out between gritted teeth. Her voice wavered, showing the waning strength in her body.

But Knockoutman seemed determined to break her spirit completely. His sadistic grin widened as he twisted her legs, adding a vicious torque to the hold. He reveled in her suffering, his voice dripping with sadistic delight. “That’s right, Jocelyn. Feel the pain coursing through you. Embrace the defeat that is consuming you.”

Jocelyn’s screams grew louder as she felt her spine being bent beyond its limits. The room seemed to close in around her as the pain engulfed her senses. Her body spasmed with each agonizing tug, her back arching unnaturally. The white walls of the mat room seemed to mock her, amplifying her helplessness.

Unable to hold back any longer, tears flowed freely down Jocelyn’s cheeks. “Stop …please,” she choked out through her sobs, her voice barely audible. The pain radiated through every fiber of her being, threatening to shatter her spirit.

But Knockoutman remained relentless, his voice filled with sadistic pleasure. “You see, Jocelyn, this is what happens when you dare to challenge me. This is the price you pay for stepping into my ring,” he taunted, his grip on her legs tightening even further. Jocelyn’s body trembled violently as she fought against the unbearable torture. Every muscle screamed in protest as she desperately clung to consciousness. Her vision blurred, her senses dulled, and she felt herself slipping into the abyss of unconsciousness once again. The room seemed to spin around her, the sounds becoming distorted and distant. All that remained was the excruciating pain, consuming her every thought. With a final surge of defiance, Jocelyn mustered whatever strength she had left and let out a primal scream of agony. But it was futile. The relentless pressure on her back continued to crush her resolve, leaving her teetering on the edge of surrender. As her body grew weak and her screams turned into pitiful moans, Jocelyn’s world faded into darkness once more, succumbing to the torturous grip of Knockoutman’s Boston crab hold.

Unaware of Jocelyn’s unconscious state, Knockoutman continued to apply excruciating pressure on her back, relishing in her suffering. His cruel laughter filled the mat room as he reveled in his dominance.

“You thought you could challenge me, Jocelyn? You thought you stood a chance?” he jeered, his voice dripping with contempt. “Well, look at you now. A pathetic jobber, crumbling beneath my strength.” As Knockoutman continued to tighten the hold, Jocelyn’s lifeless body remained limp, completely unresponsive to his sadistic taunts. Her breath came shallow and her previously vibrant aura diminished, leaving her a mere shell of her former self. But Knockoutman was lost in his own ego, too self-absorbed to notice the absence of Jocelyn’s resistance. He continued his tirade, intent on breaking her spirit completely. “You were never a match for me, Jocelyn. This is where you truly belong, at my mercy.” His words echoed through the empty room, the white walls seemingly absorbing the venom in his voice. Jocelyn’s unconscious form lay motionless, her face etched with pain even in her unconscious state. Knockoutman leaned in closer, his voice dripping with malicious triumph. “Now, everyone will see the true extent of your weakness. Your feeble attempts to defy me have only served to solidify your place as a crushed and defeated jobber.” He released a wicked chuckle, the sound bouncing off the walls like a haunting symphony. The room seemed to shrink around him, closing in on the fallen Jocelyn as if to magnify her helplessness. “And just to make sure you understand your place,” Knockoutman continued, his arrogant tone contrasting with the stillness of Jocelyn’s body, “I’ll keep you trapped in this Boston crab hold until you awaken. I want you to feel every agonizing second of your failure.” A menacing smirk spread across Knockoutman’s face as he tightened his grip even further, oblivious to the fact that Jocelyn’s unconsciousness had shielded her from the discordant melody of his words. The room fell into an eerie silence as Jocelyn lay motionless, lost in the realm of the unconscious, her body a canvas for his sadistic desires. Knockoutman decided to add an extra burst of intensity into the Boston crab hold. He maneuvered Jocelyn’s legs further back, bending them painfully against the natural limits of her flexibility. The audible sound of straining tendons filled the air as her body contorted in ways it was never meant to.

Jocelyn’s unconsciousness was momentarily interrupted by a surge of agonizing pain. Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused and glazed, as a sharp cry of discomfort escaped her lips. “Owwww….noo… please!” she pleaded, her voice filled with anguish and desperation. The pain tore through her body, jolting her back into a fleeting moment of conscious awareness.

Knockoutman chuckled sadistically, reveling in the brief response he had elicited from his beaten opponent. “Aw, still awake, are we? Don’t worry, Jocelyn. I won’t let you forget the agony I’m inflicting upon you,” he sneered, his grip on her legs tightening to exert maximum pressure on her already tortured back. Jocelyn’s plea for mercy was cut short as her consciousness slipped away once again, her body overwhelmed by the overwhelming torment inflicted upon her. Her limbs went limp as she sank back into the depths of unconsciousness, her cry of discomfort fading into silence. The room seemed to hold its breath, the air heavy with the sense of dominance that Knockoutman exuded. With Jocelyn once again lost to the world of dreams, Knockoutman continued to revel in his sadistic power.

Knockoutman released his grip on the Boston crab hold. He stood over her, a twisted smile of satisfaction playing on his lips. The atmosphere in the room had turned cold, the victory-scented air thick with his dominance. Bending down, Knockoutman placed a hand on Jocelyn’s cheek, his grip rough and callous as he forcefully pulled her eyelids open. Her eyes remained unresponsive, the vacant stare of unconsciousness meeting his gaze. A sinister chuckle escaped his lips as he reveled in her unconscious state.

“Oh, Jocelyn, Jocelyn,” he taunted, his voice laced with mockery. “Did you really think you could defend yourself, or even protect that pathetic friend of yours, Kumiko? You’re nothing but a weak jobber, pretending to be something you’re not.” He pressed his thumb against her cheek, his touch cruel as he emphasized his point. “Let this be a lesson to you. The fate Kumiko experienced at the hands of Emerald and Smallz is just a taste of the pain I will unleash upon you. You couldn’t even save yourself, let alone your friend.”

As Knockoutman’s words hung in the air, he decided to revive Jocelyn from her unconscious state with a series of slaps and backhands. Each sharp strike landed on her cheeks, jolting her senses and coaxing her back to the realm of the conscious.

Slap. Backhand. Slap.

Jocelyn’s body stirred, her head lolling to the side with each strike. The impact of each blow grew in intensity as her awareness slowly returned. The sting of pain mingled with confusion and disbelief, pulling her back from the depths of oblivion. Gradually, Jocelyn’s eyes fluttered open, her vision hazy and disoriented. As her surroundings came into focus, she was met with the harsh reality of the situation. It wasn’t a dream. She was truly in Knockoutman’s clutches, suffering a one-sided beatdown that seemed to have no end.

Shock and disbelief washed over her as the realization struck her like a ton of bricks. “No…it can’t be…” she muttered, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and disbelief. The pain in her body served as a brutal reminder that this was her reality, and Knockoutman was the orchestrator of her torment.

With a display of his formidable strength, Knockoutman swiftly lifted Jocelyn off the ground, his strong arms encircling her in a bone-crushing bearhug. He effortlessly hoisted her into the air, carrying her weight as if she was no more than a mere toy. Jocelyn’s body recoiled in agony as the bearhug tightened its grip around her. The pressure crushed her, making it difficult to draw even the shallowest breath. Her back and ribs throbbed with pain, exacerbated by the intense strain they had already endured during the Boston crab hold. She fought against the relentless squeeze, desperately gasping for air as she tried to free herself from the unbearable agony. But Knockoutman’s strength was overpowering, his hold unrelenting. Her struggles seemed futile, her muscles and bones already weakened from the punishment she had endured. Jocelyn’s face contorted with pain, her body growing weak within Knockoutman’s inescapable embrace. The weight of her own body bore down on her back, amplifying the torment spreading through every nerve ending. The room spun around her, the sight of the white walls blurring as the pain overwhelmed her senses.

Jocelyn’s desperate struggles proved futile against the relentless crushing power of Knockoutman’s bearhug. Despite her valiant efforts to fight off the excruciating pain, her body began to betray her. The agony coursing through her back and ribs became too much to bear. As her consciousness wavered on the edge of oblivion, Jocelyn’s vision blurred and swirled like a tempestuous storm. Her body grew limp within Knockoutman’s unyielding hold. The vibrant colors of her two-piece bikini, once representing her strength and determination, now seemed dull in the face of her helplessness. Her mind raced, desperately searching for a way to endure the pain. But with each passing moment, her thoughts grew fragmented and distant. The world around her faded, replaced by a suffocating darkness. Unable to hold on any longer, Jocelyn succumbed to the unbearable torment, her body going slack in Knockoutman’s crushing embrace. The pain-induced unconsciousness claimed her, a soft moan escaping her parted lips. Drool spilled out, a testament to her defeated state. Without a moment of hesitation, Knockoutman callously tossed her aside, her motionless form skidding along the mat. His victory over Jocelyn seemed assured, his sadistic desire for dominance driving him forward, without an ounce of remorse for the damage he had inflicted.

Knockoutman approached Jocelyn’s motionless body. His eyes gleamed with a twisted delight as he watched her helpless, defeated form on the mat. As he knelt down beside her, he couldn’t resist taking every opportunity to further taunt and humiliate his fallen opponent.

“Jocelyn, Jocelyn, Jocelyn,” he taunted, his voice filling with venomous mockery. “Look at you, drooling like a pathetic jobber while unconscious. How fitting.” He reached out and gently lifted one of Jocelyn’s lifeless arms, his grip firm yet mocking. He held it up momentarily, enjoying the sight of it hovering briefly before releasing it. The arm fell limply back to the mat with a soft thud. Chuckling to himself, Knockoutman proceeded to repeat the same process with her other arm, lifting it to tease her for a moment before letting it drop back down. It too fell to the mat, devoid of any signs of life or resistance. Next, he moved onto Jocelyn’s legs, his hands grasping her thighs. His gaze lingered on her unconscious face as he raised her legs, watching them hang for a brief moment before relinquishing his hold. They fell back to the mat with the same lifeless thud, mirroring the defeat that had consumed her. Knockoutman reveled in the display of Jocelyn’s helplessness, laughing at her inability to muster any resistance or fight back. Her unconsciousness was a stark reminder of her inferiority in the face of his dominance.

As Jocelyn lay there, unconscious and defenseless, Knockoutman’s sadistic nature surged within him. Fueled by a twisted sense of satisfaction, he raised his foot and brought it crashing down onto her outstretched hand, grinding it into the mat beneath. The sudden impact jarred Jocelyn’s body, triggering a response that stirred her from her unconscious state. Pain exploded within Jocelyn’s hand, searing through her nerves like a surge of fire. The weight of Knockoutman’s foot pressed down mercilessly, subjecting her to an agonizing torment. Her eyes flew open, widening with sheer horror as her senses were immediately assaulted by the excruciating pain. A guttural scream erupted from Jocelyn’s throat, a raw and vulnerable expression of her torment. The sound reverberated through the mat room, filling the air with her anguished cries. Tear streams mingled with the drool that still clung to her lips, as her body convulsed in response to the unbearable agony. The pain radiating from her hand seemed all-consuming, overpowering any semblance of fight or resistance that might have remained within her. It was a stark reminder of her powerlessness, an affirmation of how completely in control Knockoutman was in their one-sided battle.

Knockoutman, reveling in Jocelyn’s agony, decided it was time to showcase his devastating power once again. Knockoutman reached down and firmly grasped Jocelyn’s arm, yanking her up from the mat. Her body, weakened and still wracked with pain, struggled to respond as he effortlessly hoisted her to her feet. Before Jocelyn could even gather her bearings, a light but impactful kick landed in her midsection, doubling her over in a jolt of pain. The breath rushed from her lungs, leaving her gasping and vulnerable. Seizing the opportunity, Knockoutman wasted no time in asserting his dominance. He swiftly maneuvered his powerful thighs around Jocelyn’s head, locking her in a tight headscissors hold. With seamless ease, he lifted her up until her body was completely inverted, her feet pointed towards the ceiling. Her world flipped upside down, a disorienting twist of both physical and emotional torment. Jocelyn’s head was now at the mercy of Knockoutman’s lethal grip, trapped between the vice-like grip of his thighs. The intense pressure built, squeezing against her temples with an unbearable force. Her vision blurred, her thoughts muddled by the lack of oxygen. The roar of blood in her ears drowned out any outside sound, leaving her isolated within her own personal hell. As the blood rushed to her head, Jocelyn’s heartbeat throbbed in her ears, each pulsation a painful reminder of her vulnerability. Her struggles were futile, her body writhing in a desperate attempt to escape his clutches. But Knockoutman’s strength and hold were unrelenting, his dominance unyielding. She was trapped, a puppet in his sadistic display of power.

Jocelyn’s world spun in a whirlwind of pain and desperation. As her body dangled helplessly upside down, the realization of her fate washed over her like a chilling wave. Fear gnawed at her mind, her thoughts racing in a desperate attempt to find a way out of this nightmare. With a desperate plea, she mustered the strength to beg for mercy.

“Please, Knockoutman,” Jocelyn’s voice quivered with a mix of pain and desperation, “Have mercy, I… I can’t take….”

“What’s that sweetheart I didn’t quite catch that.” Knockoutman playfully mocked.

As Jocelyn’s appeal fell on deaf ears. Knockoutman’s sadistic delight only intensified at her plea. A sadistic glint danced in his eyes as he reveled in her moment of weakness. With a sick sense of enjoyment, he leaped into the air, his body soaring with almost childlike delight. In an instant, his legs tightened their grip, and gravity viciously took hold. Jocelyn’s world collided with the mat in a flash of agony. Her body, already battered and broken, collapsed in a heap of agony. As her head and neck were driven into the mat with stunning force, all thoughts ceased, replaced by a blinding surge of pain. The impact coursed through her entire body like an electric shock, jolting her nerves and twisting her limbs in brutal spasms. Any remnants of consciousness that lingered within Jocelyn’s battered form were quickly extinguished, leaving her in a state of complete and utter devastation. Lying on the mat, her body twitched involuntarily, oblivious to the fact that her consciousness had long since abandoned her. Her nerves fired erratically, caught in a chaotic dance of pain and numbness. Jocelyn had become nothing more than a broken and convulsing mess.

As Jocelyn lay there, a lifeless ragdoll on the mat, Knockoutman basked in the power he held over her. He towered over her motionless body, holding her as if she were nothing but a prop in his sadistic performance. With a chilling sense of authority, he began to narrate his next move, his voice dripping with disdain for Jocelyn’s past actions.

“Look at you, Jocelyn. This is what happens when you think you can go against me, against everything I’ve built. You thought you could paint me as the villain, but here you are, broken and defeated,” Knockoutman’s words echoed through the room, his voice laced with a mix of superiority and vengeance. With calculated precision, Knockoutman reached down, his hands gripping Jocelyn’s lifeless body. With little resistance, he hoisted her up, her limp form dangling in his grasp. Her head hung down, her long hair cascading like a dark waterfall towards the mat. This time, however, Knockoutman had a specific plan in mind – a move that would leave Jocelyn at his complete mercy. He positioned her in the dreaded tombstone piledriver hold. Her head was trapped against his abdomen, her body hanging helplessly upside down, defying gravity at his command. As the camera lingered, the view captured Jocelyn’s exposed bikini bottoms that had ridden up her ass cheeks giving her the impression that she was wearing a thong, as her bare ass cheeks were displayed to the camera, emphasizing her vulnerability and complete powerlessness. The vibrant colors of her bikini, now slightly disheveled from the brutal punishment she had endured. It was a visual representation of Jocelyn’s defeat, as if the camera itself reveled in capturing her humiliation. Jocelyn remained in a state of suspended animation, barely aware of her surroundings. Her limbs dangled, offering no resistance, as Knockoutman retained complete control over her fate. Her helplessness was on full display, a silent reminder that in knockoutman’s wrestling world, she was nothing more than a pawn.

With Jocelyn’s limp body hanging in his clutches, Knockoutman took a leisurely stroll around the mat room. Every step he took exuded a sense of dominance and control, his eyes filled with sadistic satisfaction. He wanted the world to witness the depth of his power, to see Jocelyn’s helplessness in his grasp. As he paced around the room, Knockoutman reveled in his ability to manipulate Jocelyn, to quell any fight within her. It was a twisted display of his authority, his dominance over a woman he once loved. And then, with a sudden motion, Knockoutman brought Jocelyn’s descending head down with shocking force. The impact echoed through the room, a sickening thud that reverberated deep within Jocelyn’s fragile form. Her neck bent at an agonizingly unnatural angle, her body seizing in response to the excruciating pain. A moment of stillness followed as the room seem to hold its breath, witnessing Jocelyn’s body submit to the brutal assault. The camera focused on her contorted face, her mouth agape, eyes vacant and unseeing. Jocelyn’s consciousness slipped away once more, her body succumbing to the relentless torment that Knockoutman unleashed upon her. Unconsciousness enveloped Jocelyn like a suffocating blanket, her mind finding temporary solace from the relentless barrage of pain. Her body lay motionless on the mat, her once lustrous hair  restrained by a band in ponytail had now been sprawled out and splayed around her, a stark contrast to the pale complexion of her face. Knockoutman stood tall, a triumphant smile playing on his lips.

As Jocelyn lay motionless on the mat, her body broken and her spirit shattered, Knockoutman couldn’t resist a cruel smile. He relished in her vulnerability, her utter helplessness before him. With a derisive chuckle, he taunted her, his voice dripping with contempt.

“Out again, sweetheart? That won’t do,” Knockoutman sneered, his words laced with sadistic amusement. “But since you’re down there, let me go ahead and get my pin.” With a swift motion, Knockoutman hooked Jocelyn’s leg, pressing her shoulder blades against the mat. The referee, nonexistent in this empty room, was not needed for his sadistic pleasure. The count was his alone to administer.

“One,” he began to count, each word infused with a vindictive tone. He slapped the mat with deliberate force, the sound reverberating through the room.  As he reached the crucial moment, as the number “three” threatened to end the match and seal Jocelyn’s defeat, he paused. With a derisive scoff, Knockoutman savored the anticipation, the knowledge that he had complete control over her fate. But then, with a vicious yank, he seized a handful of Jocelyn’s hair and abruptly jerked her head and shoulder off the mat. It was a cruel and deliberate act, a blatant display of his dominance over her limp form. Jocelyn’s lifeless body twisted under the pull, her head hanging back at an unnerving angle. The pain radiated through her, reverberating from her scalp down to her toes. Her unconsciousness shielded her from the immediate agony, but her body instinctively recoiled against the torment, even in her state of oblivion. Knockoutman reveled in his twisted power, his control over Jocelyn not just in the wrestling ring, but in every facet of her existence.

As Knockoutman decided to show a sliver of mercy, he released Jocelyn’s hair and maliciously threw her head back down onto the mat. Her body flopped limply, the impact reverberating through her senses that were dulled by the onslaught of punishment she had endured.

Unsatisfied with her stillness, Knockoutman saw fit to unleash his brutality once again. With a sadistic gleam in his eyes, he raised his leg and delivered a forceful stomp to Jocelyn’s exposed stomach. The impact caused her body to jerk, but there was no response, no sign of life returning to her. A cruel smirk etched across his face, Knockoutman raised his leg once more, his boot landing right on Jocelyn’s vulnerable midsection. This time, her chest and body jiggled under the assault but echos of an out fighter were all that escaped her lifeless form. Her unconsciousness clung to her like a suffocating veil, shielding her from the reality of the torture she was enduring at Knockoutman’s hands. Not satisfied with simply dominating her physically, Knockoutman descended upon her, straddling her weakened body. His presence loomed over her like a sinister shadow, his grasps tight and menacing. He began to lightly slap Jocelyn’s face, every contact sending shockwaves through her system. Slowly, hesitantly, Jocelyn began to stir. The pain, the humiliation, and the persistence of Knockoutman’s assault pushed her back from the abyss of unconsciousness. Her eyes fluttered open, hazy and glazed, as the world came into focus. Weak and disoriented, Jocelyn mustered a feeble attempt to fight back, her instincts urging her to escape the clutches of her tormentor. But Knockoutman remained unmoved, his control unyielding. The match was far from over, and with each passing moment, Jocelyn’s hope of mounting any defense waned further.

With a cruel smirk, Knockoutman forcefully dragged Jocelyn to her knees. She struggled against his hold, her weakened limbs trembling under the strain. The room was filled with an air of anticipation as Knockoutman took a step back, preparing to deliver a devastating blow. Raising his leg, Knockoutman launched himself off the mat, his knee leading the charge. It soared through the air, seeking its target with deadly precision. Jocelyn, still disoriented from the previous onslaught, had no time to react. The flying knee connected with her open chin, impacting her with brutal force. The impact was catastrophic. Jocelyn’s body recoiled, her head snapping back as her features contorted in agony. In one swift moment, reality shifted for her. Time seemed to stall as she was catapulted backward, her body twisting in a violent spin. Helplessly, she tumbled head over heels, crashing back-first onto the unforgiving mat. Lying sprawled on the mat, facing down, Jocelyn clutched her throbbing, agonized face. Tears welled up in her eyes, mingling with her labored breathing. The pain engulfed her, radiating from her chin and coursing through her entire being. She was helpless, her spirit crushed under the weight of the relentless assault. Knockoutman’s onslaught had left her utterly devastated, robbed of her ability to fight back.

As Jocelyn lay on her stomach, her hands still clinging to her throbbing chin, Knockoutman seized his opportunity to further torment her. With calculated precision, he positioned himself behind her, his strong arms encircling her head and neck. The Camel Clutch, a move designed to inflict both chin pain and a bone-bending stretch, was about to be executed. Jocelyn’s mind raced as she felt the pressure intensify. Panic welled up inside her, mingling with the searing pain that radiated through her jaw. She knew what was coming, the unbearable torment she was about to endure. Flashes of desperation flickered across her thoughts as she desperately tried to devise a plan of escape, but deep down, she feared that her efforts would be in vain. The moment Knockoutman locked in the hold, Jocelyn’s body was forced into an excruciating arch. The strain on her chin intensified, her jaw screaming out in protest. Sharp, shooting pains lanced through her head, causing her vision to blur and swirl. She gritted her teeth, fruitlessly trying to muster the strength to escape. Her muscles strained, her body writhing in defiance, but Knockoutman’s grip remained unyielding. Every ounce of resistance seemed to vanish as the pain consumed her, eroding her will to fight back. The relentless torque on her neck and chin immobilized her, turning her attempts to break free into mere flailing gestures. In that moment, Jocelyn’s mind was overwhelmed by a sense of helplessness. She couldn’t escape the torturous embrace of the Camel Clutch, nor could she foresee any means of liberation.

As Jocelyn’s body sagged in the Camel Clutch, her consciousness waning, Knockoutman couldn’t resist the opportunity to mock her further. His voice dripped with sadistic amusement as he taunted her weakened state. “Still feisty, huh? Can’t even handle a little stretch? Pathetic,” he sneered, his words like venom slicing through the air. “Just give up already. You’re no match for me.” Jocelyn’s fading awareness caught snippets of Knockoutman’s disparaging words, fueling a flicker of defiance buried within her. But that fleeting flame was quickly extinguished as her body succumbed to the hold. Her eyes rolled back, her eyelids drooping heavily as darkness consumed her. Yet, just as she slipped into unconsciousness, her body limp and vulnerable, Knockoutman’s sadistic tendencies took hold. With a wicked gleam in his eyes, he clamped his fingers into Jocelyn’s mouth, exploiting the Fishhook technique. The sudden pain jolted Jocelyn back to a waking nightmare, ripping her from the safety of her unconsciousness and thrusting her into a world of excruciating torment. Agonized groans escaped her mouth as Knockoutman maintained his vicious assault, his fingers digging deeper, stretching the corners of her lips unnaturally. The combination of the Fishhooks and the Camel Clutch intensified her suffering, a symphony of pain resounding throughout her entire being. Jocelyn’s body convulsed involuntarily, her muscles quivering with spasms under the unbearable duress. Tears streamed down her face, mixing with the drool that pooled from her gaping mouth. She was caught between warring sensations of suffocation and an overwhelming ache, her body manipulated like a marionette on strings. Unable to regain her bearings, Jocelyn’s agony became all-consuming. The torment from the Fishhooks blended seamlessly with the unyielding pressure of the Camel Clutch, stripping away any last semblance of her strength.

As Jocelyn’s body quivered under the relentless grip of the Camel Clutch, Knockoutman’s sadistic nature urged him to take his torture to the next level. With a swift release of the Fishhooks, the sharp pain that radiated from Jocelyn’s mouth began to subside, but there was no respite in sight. Maintaining his seated position, Knockoutman’s cruel intentions became evident as he reached behind him, seizing one of Jocelyn’s struggling feet with a vice-like grip. His other hand maintained the chin lock of the Camel Clutch, as became apparent Knockoutman was intending to inflict further torment on the already beleaguered wrestler. Jocelyn’s world descended into an abyss of sheer agony. The combination of her leg being forcefully pulled, her neck contorted, and her body locked in the Camel Clutch was unbearable. Each fiber of her being screamed out in anguish, her muscles straining against the unrelenting tension. The sharp pain from her leg being stretched and her chin being pulled intensified, echoing through her body as Knockoutman attempted to connect the two opposing points. Jocelyn’s mind reeled with a surge of blinding torment, her vision blurred by the tear-streaked agony that clouded her senses. She gasped and choked, her throat constricted by the grip around her chin. Every desperate breath was a struggle, each inhalation tormenting her already battered body. The combined forces of the Camel clutch and the leg pull stretched her to the brink of endurance, her muscles threatening to tear under the ruthless strain. -Jocelyn’s feeble attempts to escape devolved into futile spasms, her limbs jerking uncontrollably under the relentless assault. Her body convulsed in the agonizing limbo between resistance and surrender. The pain consumed her, leaving her teetering on the precipice of surrender as her world teetered on the edge of oblivion.

As Jocelyn struggled to hang onto the threads of consciousness, each passing second felt like an eternity of torment. Her body quivered with exertion as she writhed and twisted, desperately trying to break free from the cruel clutches of Knockoutman’s Front-Facing Headscissors. Her will to fight was flickering, like a candle in a gusty breeze, but she refused to surrender entirely. Mocking laughter filled the air, an unpleasant symphony that resonated deep within Jocelyn’s battered soul. Knockoutman, reveling in his sadistic pleasures, decided to add fuel to the fire of Jocelyn’s agony. His voice dripped with venomous taunts as he jeered at his once beloved wife, reminding her of her vulnerability and helplessness.

“Oh, isn’t this a familiar position for you, Jocelyn?” Knockoutman’s words rang out, laced with a twisted mixture of amusement and malice. “I remember when you used to bury your face into my crotch, savoring every moment. Now look at you fighting to get away and stuck here at my will and mercy.” Jocelyn’s face flushed with a mixture of anger and shame. She despised every word that spilled from Knockoutman’s mouth, but her strength had been drained. The assault on her body, the relentless pain, and the emotional turmoil had chipped away at her spirit. Her once defiant will to fight was now reduced to a flicker of resistance. With each passing moment, Jocelyn’s faltering attempts to escape the hold became feeble, her movements sluggish and weak. The relentless pressure on her skull intensified, her thoughts becoming muddled as her body continued to weaken in Knockoutman’s sadistic grip. And in the end, despite her valiant struggles, Jocelyn’s body betrayed her once again. The combination of physical agony and emotional trauma proved to be her undoing. Her eyes rolled back, eyelids fluttering shut as the battle for consciousness faded into darkness. Defeated and broken, Jocelyn succumbed to the black embrace of unconsciousness.

With Jocelyn passed out, Knockoutman finally decided to release Jocelyn from the clutches of the Front-Facing Headscissors. He untangled his legs, his grip loosening as her unconscious form tumbled down to the mat. A brief respite seemed to hang in the air, but it was short-lived, for Knockoutman had no intention of giving Jocelyn a moment’s reprieve. With a predator’s instinct, he lunged forward, his strong hands finding thier way to Jocelyn’s vulnerable neck. He closed his fingers around her delicate throat, exerting a vice-like grip that left no room for escape. The pain jolted through Jocelyn’s body, wrenching her back to consciousness, her eyes shooting open as she gasped for air. Her vision swam, blurred by the dizziness that accompanied the sudden awakening. Her feet were lifted off the mat, her body suspended in the cruel grip of Knockoutman’s merciless choke hold. Helpless and vulnerable, she dangled in the air, her struggling limbs futility scrabbling for release. The room spun around her, the white walls a blur as her senses fought to regain their footing. The world, however, faded to insignificance, eclipsed by the constricting grip around her throat. Every ounce of strength she had left drained from her body as the cruel reality of her situation took hold. And then, without a shred of mercy, Knockoutman slammed Jocelyn’s fragile form onto the mat, a thunderous impact reverberating through the room. The force behind the slam snuffed out the flicker of life that had briefly returned to Jocelyn’s eyes, sending her spiraling once again into the embrace of unconsciousness. The room fell into silence, save for the labored breathing of the fallen fighter. Jocelyn lay motionless on the mat, her battered body displaying the toll of the relentless onslaught. As darkness claimed her once again. Satisfied with the damage he had inflicted upon Jocelyn, Knockoutman decided it was time to bring an end to the one-sided slaughter. He tightened his grip on her limp body, his hands sliding under her arms to lift her up off the mat. Jocelyn’s unconscious form hung in his grasp, her head lolling back as her body dangled like a ragdoll. The once fierce and defiant fighter was now reduced to a lifeless puppet, completely at the mercy of her tormentor. With calculated precision, Knockoutman positioned Jocelyn’s body in front of him, aligning her head between his legs while locking his arms around her waist. The dread of what awaited her was etched across her expressionless face, even in her unconscious state. And then, with a surge of raw power, Knockoutman executed the Pedigree – a devastating maneuver known for its ability to annihilate even the most determined opponent. It was a move that had sealed the fate of countless wrestlers before her, and now it was Jocelyn’s turn to experience its brutal impact. He dropped to his knees, abruptly bringing Jocelyn’s face crashing down onto the mat. The force of the impact reverberated through her skull, jolting her back to semi-consciousness. A sharp, agonized gasp escaped her lips, punctuating the excruciating pain radiating through her entire being. Her body convulsed upon impact, uncontrollable spasms rippling through her limbs. Each tremor seemed to exacerbate the pain, amplifying the torment she was enduring. Her breaths came in ragged gasps, each inhalation a struggle against the overwhelming ache coursing through her body. Jocelyn’s face contorted in agony, her features twisted in a macabre display of suffering. Sweat mingled with the peach streaks of her hair, plastering strands to her forehead as if attempting to alleviate the torment. Her eyes fluttered with agony and shock, pain and defeat mingling in their depths. She was completely at Knockoutman’s mercy, her body a shattered vessel, her spirit crushed beneath the weight of his devastation. Finally, with the Pedigree complete, Knockoutman released his hold on Jocelyn’s trembling form. She collapsed onto the mat, her limbs splayed awkwardly, a testament to her brokenness. The room fell into a hushed stillness.

Jocelyn’s battered body lay spread-eagled on the mat, her breathing shallow and labored. Her eyes, once filled with defiance and determination, now rolled back into her head, disappearing into the dark void. The pain and torment inflicted upon her by Knockoutman had pushed her to the edge, forcing her consciousness to retreat into the recesses of her mind.

 

As her eyes remained hidden, an involuntary twitch of her lips caused a thin trail of drool to escape, trickling down her cheek. It was a stark visual reminder of the brutal toll the fight had taken on her, her body succumbing to the overwhelming exhaustion, both physical and emotional. Knockoutman, looming over her defeated form, felt a surge of triumph coursing through his veins. His eyes gleamed with sadistic satisfaction as he stepped forward, his foot coming to rest on Jocelyn’s heaving chest. A moment of silence passed, the weight of his presence further pressing down upon her battered frame.

And then, with slow and deliberate deliberation, Knockoutman began to count aloud. Each number seemed to echo through the empty room, punctuating the gravity of Jocelyn’s defeat.

“One…” His voice carried a mocking tone, resonating with the finality of her submission.

“Two…” The weight upon her chest seemed to intensify, amplifying the helplessness she felt beneath him.

“Three…” The countdown continued, each number a merciless reminder of her shattered spirit and broken body. As the numbers ticked higher, Jocelyn remained motionless, her consciousness enveloped in the abyss of her unconsciousness. The echoes of Knockoutman’s counting mingled with the distant noise of her own labored breathing, enveloping her in a cocoon of defeat.

“Ten!” The final number boomed through the room, its declaration of her defeat ringing in the emptiness around her. Knockoutman stepped back, removing his foot from her chest, leaving Jocelyn sprawled on the mat, a broken and defeated woman.

Knockoutman, standing tall and triumphant over Jocelyn’s motionless body, Knockout man grabs a marker and paper, then turned his attention to the camera. With a self-righteous smile playing on his lips, he began to address the audience, his voice laced with conviction and a twisted sense of justification.

“You see, folks, I am not the villain that Jocelyn has painted me to be,” he declared, the words dripping with a false veneer of innocence. “Nor did I take advantage of Kumiko, as she so boldly claimed. No, no, I am a fair guy. Kumiko, just like Jocelyn, knew exactly what she was getting into when she stepped onto these mats.”

He twisted the cap off the marker, the sound cutting through the silence of the room, emphasizing the weight of his next actions. “And now,” he continued, his voice growing darker and more sinister, “Jocelyn will experience firsthand what it truly means to face the monster within these walls.” As the marker glided smoothly across the paper, Knockoutman’s perverse declaration stained the surface. Each stroke of the pen was deliberate, forming the twisted signature of his intentions. The marks seemed to reflect his distorted view of himself, convinced of his righteousness while reveling in the torment he had unleashed upon his adversaries. His eyes locked onto the camera, conveying a chilling mix of arrogance and sadism. “You all will see, soon enough, that Jocelyn’s accusations and words are nothing but empty lies. I am no monster. I am the embodiment of justice, delivering the punishment they all deserve.”

With a cruel and calculating gleam in his eyes, Knockoutman moved towards Jocelyn’s limp form. He raised her upper body from the mat, positioning her on her knees with her face pressed firmly against the cold surface. Her arms hung limply at her sides, completely at his mercy. As he positioned her, Jocelyn’s sculpted butt cheeks were thrust high into the air, showcased as a trophy of her defeat. Her face obscured, hidden from view, as she lay there vulnerable and exposed in the degrading pose.

“Now, Jocelyn,” he sneered, his voice filled with a cruel satisfaction, “prepare yourself. Because the true monster has yet to unveil its full wrath upon you.”

Knockoutman grabbed the piece of paper he had written on earlier. And slapped it to Jocelyn’s ass covering her cheeks with the paper. Knockoutman then turned and slowly walked out of the mat room disappearing behind the curtains leading to the back. The camera followed his every step, capturing his smug satisfaction. Then the camera panned back to Jocelyn in her unconscious state with her ass thrust in the air a single piece of paper stuck to her sweat strained form. It slowly focused more and more on the paper slowly zooming in on it. The words on the paper came into sharp focus, burning their message into the viewers’ minds. The text read, “Hey Smallz, I got a new toy for you to play with,” signed with the unmistakable signature of Knockoutman. The camera held its position, unyielding in its scrutiny of Jocelyn’s vulnerable state as it slowly faded to black