Another softened (and dragged) bitch

If you managed to soften your opponent, you can drag her a little, as we saw in the prior post. Humiliation in fights is an art: there are a lot of moves and targets to think of. In this context, dragging is a very old issue. It is enough to recall the indignity to which Achilles submitted Hector's corpse in the Iliad. Well, we are not speaking of corpses, of course; nevertheless, for a living wench, the indignity of be dragged is a very perverted act and, therefore, perfectly appropriate to put a bitch in her place. The video here shows a very nice beating and somebody who paid the price for not keeping her mouth shut. The poor Asian girl was turned into a kind of potato sac by her black opponent...

A way to tenderise the bitch

Camel clutches, Boston crabs, backbreakers, surfboards, romero holds and others are a matter of aesthetics. We love to apply them on the bitches, nevertheless, they are not properly usual holds. Fight is too dangerous to be understood as a play for fun. These great holds, sexy as the hell, are similar to soccer dribbles. Fight, nevertheless, in general, is more related to disciplined holding midfields than to those who play like Garrincha. There are ways, however, a girl can take into account to tenderise her victim and so prepare her to be put in a humiliating hold. A lot of good punches, for instance, which make her groggy. By the way, it is the same technique for tenderising meat or kneading dough. There are also pressure points and chokes, which lead the bitch to unconsciousness. To sum up: if a good camel clutch is the picked cherry in a fight, we have to eat a lot of basic food before applying it. Well, punches are not my cup of tea, nonetheless I have to admit that the catfight below, from a 50's western, is very exciting. The nice brunette girl beats the shit out of the naughty blonde, that is, the brunette tenderises, or softens, the beautiful blonde's flesh/meat. After the thrashing, instead of a camel clutch, she drags the bitch out of the saloon. It is so humiliating... And I think I will talk a little about dragged bitches in the next post.

A seminal scene

Dear Diary... lol. Well, this is also a kind of diary book. So, I would like to take the opportunity to analyse my dirty past. When did these kind of desires and fantasies emerge from my inner world? There was a remarkable scene, when I "was just sixteen and all alone". It happened in the public pool. I was sunbathing alone, as usual, and at my side the blonde mignonne of the town was also laying and coquettishly exhibiting her beauty. There were a lot of boys there, including our school colleagues. Our school was a kind of free bullying kingdom: the stronger boys used to manhandle the weaker ones just for fun, and everyone permitted those barbarous habits. In that morning, a dunce strong guy seized, without any reason to do that, a long-haired and wimpy boy, put him in a hammerlock and paraded him around the pool, making him obey whimsical commands: down, up, down, up! The poor lad obeyed, without any expression of shame, or disguising it, squatting and standing up repeatedly, because, at any hesitation, the big dunce guy applied more pressure on the thin victim's arm. The obedience show imposed by the big monster took place in front of every girl in the pool yard. While the dunce wanker exhibited his virility (his dick was appropriately folded over his bollocks, in order to enhance the volume under his tight faggot thong), the humiliated boy only could show to the female tribe there gathered his lack of power and masculinity. Miss Universe at my side smiled and laughed at the humiliating torture and the other girls had different reactions - from absolute indifference, passing for some kind of pity mixed with curiosity, to lustful explicit desires towards the idiot monster. As far as I am concerned, something stirred inside me: the humiliation was terrible, nevertheless the sadistic portion of my being could not make my eyes flee from the cruel spectacle. After a while, I instinctively stood me up, approached the blonde cuttie and pulled her up by grabbing her hair.

I put the stupid and stupefied Venus in a hammerlock and repeated the scene protagonized by the male couple, making her obey my commands - now in front the boys instead. I could have untied and yanked her bikini top and exposed her topless to the audience. This was impossible, however, because the Command-in-Chief-for-Order-and-Modesty-Maintenance (an institution in every institutions of the town) appeared after a minute or two and separated both couples.

The jolie blonde got out swallowing her tears, and I got back to my sunbathing place. The dunce monster tried to have a relaxed chat with me, but I refused to flirt that jerk. Another guy approached and asked me: "Why did you do that". I answered: "Because I wanted to". "What did she do to deserve that?". I shrugged. "Well, you are a wicked girl". And then I realized that he was a very handsome guy...

The following night, I lost my virginity. Some boys really love female fight.

Well, just to finish the story: i) Miss Universe turned into my nice friend (I suppose that she was scared of being humiliated again), and, by the way, she is my facebook friend so far (that is, we change "Happy birthday!" greetings every year); ii) I dated the handsome guy only for two weeks: I think that he was really aroused only by catfights...; iii) the idiot monster is a grocery owner today in my town; he screws the wife of his employee; iv) his employee is a long-haired guy - in the past, the wimpy boy of my seminal scene.

All that is left for me to say is that, after this day, I invaded the internet in order to seek wrestling and catfight references. Several times I dreamt of I was applying a camelclutch and a surfboard hold on Miss Universe. There was no opportunity for this, however. Let´s so enjoy the pics!

Another thrashing

A thrashing is the most efficient way to demonstrate to the bitch that you are in charge. If you are on the loser side, you learn that life is so: sometimes on top, sometimes in hell. Surely we should not blame the destiny (or perhaps Mame...) for our defeats. Humiliation is also a medicine, for it makes us free from pride and yearnings of power. Once humiliated, our condition of controlled thing at the mercy of a stronger woman is a kind of holiday to our futile ambitions. We learn our place obediently, as life determines. When our time of glory comes, nevertheless, it is marvellous the sense of power and domination. I get aroused sometimes, or I salivate (as Pavlov's dog - bark! bark!) when I manhandle a bitch under my claws...

The video here shows a beautiful beatdown. The poor loser is really beautiful: lovely legs, lovely thighs, lovely belly... oh lovely... ah lovely... And for the first time since the blog start, we can enjoy one of the most beautiful and humiliating holds: the Boston crab. This is, however, just a little drop amidst the tempest of humiliating moves. And the audio special defects put one more pinch of madness on my mixed feelings and fantasies...

Fight tips and ear tips

The boyfriend aforementioned who I dated for three years gave me good advice concerning fight strategies. Here they are:

1 - If you have never fought, so it is very likely you do not know how to fight. If you only fought at school, pulling hair and scratching your opponent's face, yes… you definitely does not know how to fight. If you are not trained by the army, or are not black belt in some credible martial art, or never faced someone who was willing to cause you extreme harm, then you for sure never fought. It is better, in these cases, to keep calm and sneak out, unless you are sure the other girl is as inexperienced as you.

2 – Yes, run away, mainly if the other girl is stronger: it is a good way to avoid injury. The best of martial arts is called 100-metre dash. So run for your life as if you were one of the three little pigs picking flowers in the field and all of sudden the big bad wolf appears to say "good day, sunshine". It is very humiliating, however, to be caught while fleeing and get thrashed…

3 – Aggression is crime. Fight for self-defense. Try to establish rules for fight and punishment (including humiliation), that is, try to make the fight as "consensual" as possible. Do not hurt badly the bitch who provoked you, nevertheless, keep in mind you have to teach her a good and humiliating lesson. And be prepared for a reverse outcome - physically and psychologically.

4 – If the fight is unavoidable and necessary, remember the holy trinity: breasts, eyes and throat. Hit, strike, crash, thrash, bash, crush, squeeze, finger, punch, pinch, twist, chop, lam, slam, slap, slug there - but only in cases of life and death, please (you do no want go to jail, right?). There is no superheroine or black belt who could withstand a strong beating in any of these spots. An uppercut in the bitch’s chin or a heavy punch in her solar plexus are also good moves, as so the pressure points - if you have learnt a little bit of krav-maga techniques.

5 – And, finally, please, examine carefully the bitch's general features. If she is over 200lb, if her arm thickness is similar to one of a barrel, fighting is not definitely the most appropriate way to settle differences. No. You shall want to be her friend. Yes. The bitch's best friend... and a good and obedient girl.

The poor hottie in these videos did not follow these tips, and the tips of her ears paid the price. Humiliation galore in this match, but, toys in the attic!, be pulled up by the ears, oh my… oh my… it is soooo humiliating…

"Z otchłani klęsk i cierpień podnoszę głos do ciebie, Nirwano!" ("Down from the depths of woe and pain to Thee I cry, Nirvana!")

Yeah, armbars are excruciating holds, which make a bitch submit immediately. Otherwise, she can say goodbye to her elbow joint, like Miesha Tate, who struggled in vain in an armbar imposed by Ronda Rousey. The pain caused by an armbar make us implore by the end of the senses, crying for the Nothing, for the Nirvana and the lack of sensations... and pain.

Besides of this all, armbars are sexy like hell, especially when applied in a charming way, as we can see in the pic. Poor blonde with sexy panties and tan lines probably is yearning (and yelling) for the Nirvana, while her opponent makes the sensorial world more beautiful with her sexy thighs scissors move and foot posing.

Appointment in Samarra

Destiny is implacable, and we eventually meet it in Samarra. I avoid that bitch like the devil would run away from the Crucifix or Count Dracula from garlic ropes. In order to face her adequately, I began jiu-jitsu classes. One of those days, I was in the changing room after having bath when that bitch came in dressed to kill, that is, she was wearing a red kimono. She gave me no chance, grabbed me by the hair, forced me to walk to the then empty dojo and trapped me uninterruptedly in arm locks and sometimes in leglocks. It was a kind of lesson transformed into a torture session. I could only groan and beg for mercy, nevertheless, she released a hold just to put me immediately in another one. It took one hour of pure pain and agony. I was only with bra and panties on and the humiliation just was not worse because the dojo was empty. The pain in my joints were terrible when the torture was over. The bitch made her triumphant withdrawal carrying my bra and panties as a trophy, leaving me completely naked. I crawled to the changing room and put the rest of my clothes on. (Well, the video scenes here are similar to those of the events related, except for my lack of attire...). When I was leaving the gymnasium, I came accross the boy who worked there as the night manager. He told me he could prepare me more adequately, as he was a very skilled krav-maga and jiu-jitsu wrestler. I realized that he had watched the beatdown and my feeling of shame incresead. Something special, however, made me accompanied him to a bar, where we talked a lot about wrestling, love and life. He told me he could mitigate the pain caused by the sucessive arm and leglocks on me and we went to his apartment. He massaged me like an saviour angel and fucked me like Luficer full of lust, oh... We dated for three years, a time full of sex, love and wrestling training and tips. "The lotus is a flower that growns in the mud. The thicker and deeper the mud, the more beautiful the lotus blooms."

"J'ai plus de souvenirs que si j'avais mille ans"

Since I have no plans or no objectives for this blog, things simply happen. I am writing to myself, I even do not know If I have a measly reader. Why did I remembered passages of my life in the prior post? How does I deal with these kind of remembrances? I suppose that very well. That bitch transformed my life into a nightmare for three months. She liked to have me at your disposal to make me scared of getting humiliated again. And so she did it in other two occasions, albeit I avoided her like a fugitive... Two weeks after the first humiliation, I casually came accross her in the backyard school. She gave me no time to think about life and forced me to my knees by applying a small joint lock (or fingerlock) on both hands. I was much weaker than her and the only thing I could do was wait for her to be tired of torment me and, meanwhile, cry shamefully my submission. I begged for mercy for around five minutes, in front of my colleagues and at the mocking and cheering of ten or twelve idiot boys. Afterwards, I could not move normally my hands for a good time... This nightmare accompanied me for more two months, after which the bitch had to leave the town with her family. I thanked God and Devil and my luck for that. I learnt much with that bitch, including the habit of humiliating my poor victims too. The pic here is not much representative of the scene: after all, I was crying like hell, and the pressure on my bent-to-the-limit wrists was much, much more impressive... The pic is sexy, however. Life is sexy. Defeat is sexy. And so is victory.

Twisted, twisted memories she gave-a me, I can't beat the memories she gave-a me

A good hammerlock should combine twisting, folding and pressure. The pain inflicted to the elbow and shoulder joints is so excruciating that it leads the girl to shout immediately her submission. Most of pics show only a mere folded arm grabbing, of course, albeit the hammerlock, in real life, is much more than that. My first defeat, in teenage years, was caused by a double hammerlock imposed by a wicked bitch, who humiliated me by compelling me to beg the submission several times before releasing the hold. She was much stronger than me and it was a stupid decision to face her. Life, however, is wise, and my defeat was a lesson learned - including the technique of how to apply a good hammerlock... 

I guess the pic here depicts a scene very similar to the one of my defeat.

Twist and shout!

Merriam-Webster defines cry: 1) to produce tears from your eyes often while making loud sounds because of pain, sorrow, or other strong emotions; and 2) to shout or say something loudly. (Well, If I have a reader, I will be grateful for receiving amendments and corrections to my English writing, since I am a humble self-taught language student). I expressed some of my toughts concerning cry-weep as a loser's performance to demonstrate unequivocal humiliation. Likewise, the victim's screaming of pain make her both pitiful and sexy.

We have another blonde loser's image here to enjoy. After a twist in her arm, the poor hottie gives a S-shape to her beautiful body, bends gracefully her leg and... loudly and shamelessly screams, only desperately hoping her tormentor releases the hammerlock (a very sexy hold, about which I intend to speak a little bit from here on...). Oh, and the expression of the wicked beautiful brunette? How special! She is in complete delight, slightly surprised with the huge humiliation she gave to the poor blonde (a similar expression  before an unexpected long-distance cumshot after a handjob...).

"I'm sorry, dear, so sorry, dear, I'm sorry I made you cry"

Suffering and pain are not good at all. They are, however, the basis for my pleasure. I think that real pain and suffering do not fit in my mind. And neither bloody or extremely cruel fantasy. Even so, I can not affirm sharply the truth. What is truth?

In the pic, for example, we can enjoy a beutiful scissors and armbar combo. The twisting move and the pressure on the poor blonde's shoulder makes her pitiful, of course. Then, what really rocks me? Perhaps the theme of a hottie mature woman punishing unmercifully a sassy young girl, or the victim's hair (oh, the hair...) falling like a blonde obliquous waterfall... But sure the crying, yes, the crying - one of the forms by which the loser explicit the humiliation of being defeated and dominated.

"Cry, baby, cry, make" me "sigh"...

Well, I do not believe in races, nevertheless, there are some really exciting urban legends regarding the issue. The superiority of black girls in wrestling and catfight, for example, is exploited to the limit in my fetishes. The pics I posted here are proof of the strange feeling concerning black girls dominating white ones. For a bit of variety, the pic here shows a clear moment of domination and humiliation between sisters.

They are not exactly my type, but, for crying out loud, why do I feel so stirred inside? Pehaps because of the the poor fake-blonde's crying of pain... Yes, I really need to talk about this one of these days...

When it rains it pours

When I lived in a Caribbean Spanish speaking country, I trained freestyle wrestling in a gymnasium. I along with three other girls and six guys used to train together. One of the lads, José, was my boyfriend.

On some Friday, after training, we would promote no-rules matches, in which, seriously or for fun, vicious holds like camel clutches, surfboards and boston crabs were allowed and, of course, applied to humiliate the opponent in female-female and male-male. The audience used to make fun of the losers in order to create a competitive atmosphere.

One of the female wrestlers, Fatima, was a black girl. She was very uncouth and hated white people. She had already worked two white girls over sadistically, having fun in putting them in excruciating moves and hear the antagonist begging for mercy several times before releasing the hold.

I was fascinated by applying camel clutches: it is a painful and beautiful hold because, when well performed, makes the loser a kind of human trophy under the control of the winner. It is a humiliating move, which demonstrates unequivocal superiority. I had already beaten another girl applying the camel clutch hold and, for that, people nicknamed me "la chica-dromedario" – or, in English, camelclutchgirl. One of my camel-clutched victims was a black girl, Juana, a friend of Fatima's. Juana was friend of mine too. But Fatima only talked to black people, she was very intolerant, because she had lived in the Southern United States or in a near-apartheid place, I do not know.

But I have no racial prejudice, this is not an institute in my country, and I relate to black, white, red, yellow – or green or blue! – people. All wrestlers in the gymnasium were friend of mine... except Fatima, of course, always rude and unpleasant. Apart from that, she was jealous of me and José, a beautiful black guy.

After I had beaten Juana, Fatima seemed very angry: as I had beaten a black girl, it would be necessary – in her mind – a revenge! Once upon a Friday, she challenged me: "Hey, you sour milky girl, what about a match tonight? I will make you swallow your own medicine! I will break your pride and, perhaps, your spine!"

I am not a proud girl, it was an unfair remark. Only an intolerant person could tell this to me. I gulped and gave her no answer, unless accepting the challenge, although Fatima really had scared me. But she was smaller than me, and I thought I could win. José did not like the idea of a fight between me and the angry black girl, and told me: "Beware". These word frightened me too, but it did not make me back down.

At 8 pm all the people were in the gymnasium to enjoy the match. I and Fatima were wearing body building attire: top, colant shorts, stockings and sneakers. We took off the sneakers and the stockings, and agreed to a 4-falls submission match. Oh, unfortunatelly, it wasn't properly a match, but a mismatch!

Soon, I noticed that Fatima's muscles touched like iron! And, although she was smaller than me, she was stronger and more, much more skilled! She quickly trapped me in a painful arm lock. Slowly, she drove me to my knees, while I was feeling my arm on the verge to be broken and my elbow seeming to be popped. Shamefully, I screamed my submission to her in few seconds, but she, sadistically, did not release the hold, torturing me during ten minutes. I shouted my submission several times, feeling weaker and weaker, in panic, sweating copiously.

Fatima noticed my weakness, and quickly shoved me to the mat and applied me a painful figure-four leg lock. Powerless, I only groaned, and moaned, and begged for mercy, while Fatima tortured my poor legs, laughing and mocking me. I was feeling like I should had never been born, when she released the hold and, unceremoniously and in a flash, ripped off my shorts, besides my vain resistance.

– Here's my first trophy, white trash! – said Fatima, while I closed my eyes wondering further tortures.

It was a shame to be exposed only in lemon green thong and top, but the pain was so intense that I was not thinking about that: it was necessary to go to the second fall, and I knew that I had no chance!

One minute after, we were fighting again, and again Fatima easily ruled over, dominating me in a full nelson hold. I was tortured for several minutes, and, after she released the hold, I felt like a cut log on the mat, completely limp. She rolled me over, putting my face against the canvas:

– And now, your own medicine, camelclutchgirl!

She pulled my shoulders, put her thighs under my armpits, and applied me a cruel camel clutch hold.

– Your favourite medicine, camelclutchgirl, do you like? Oh, why are you groaning? Does it hurt? – She asked me, laughing, while she put more and more and more pressure, arching my back like a soft rubber, and making my nape touch my back! I tried to say my submission, but it was pratically impossible, because your hands were violently pulling my chin, and I hardly could open the mouth. My throat seemed to be broken, and I was feeling asphyxiated. I only could groan grotesque and frantically some words sounding like "I submit", "no more", "for God's sake", "mercy, mercy", "you're killing me", what increased my humiliation and Fatima's glory.

The camel clutch agony is rather indescribable. The back and the neck seem to be broken under excruciating pain. The throat closes and it makes one gasping. Fatima controlled me in the camel clutch for two long minutes, which seemed to me two years. My ears were buzzing, my hands and forearms tingling, and all my body shivering! I was on the verge to pass out, when Fatima released the hold, letting me lay limp on the mat. She brutally ripped of my top, and after a minute or two I realized that my punishment would be very, very, very humiliating.

I did not want to stand up, I want only rest on the mat and weep, but Fatima grabbed my hair and forced me to stand up. I was very embarrassed by the fact that Fatima was exposing me topless to the assistance. I instinctively covered my breasts with the hands and supplicated:

– No more, please, I submit, I'm feeling bad, you're the better woman.

But Fatima was cruel:

– No honey, no, white shit. It is a 4-falls match. You can draw! – And she laughed sarcastically. She released my hair and walk back, calling me to the third fall. I was completely dazed and, in a second, I have again been shoved to the mat, under her control. This time, Fatima enjoyed torturing me in excruciating arm and leg twisting holds, making each arm and each leg looks like a pretzel. How many times did I submit and beg for mercy? Meanwhile, the assistance did appreciate me being tortured and my poor toplessed body becoming totally stripped naked when Fatima ripped off my panties, and stood over me in a victory pose, hanging up the last cloth trophy.

"Well", I thought, trying to cover my tits and privates with the hands, "it is the end, at least, thanks God".

I could not face the assistance, so ashamed I was. After two minutes, I had the courage of sitting on the mat, covering the tits and keeping the legs together to hide my pussy, and talked to Fatima:

– Ok, you won, it is over. Congratulations. Give my clothes back, please.

Fatima smiled sardonically:

– Two misunderstandings, darling white rubbish, dear pale hen. First: I notify you that your clothes are being confiscated. Second: it is a 4-falls match and we only fought three times. Let is go to the last one. You can win at least one fall, score your goal of honour, ho-ho-ho...

My God, there was no more honour. I panicked:

– No, it is over! You have humiliated me enough! And I will not fight stark naked!

– Oh, you will! It is summer, you will feel fine! And I still want give you a "recuerdo": a naked camel clutch. It will be unforgettable.

And immediately she put me on my feet, grabbing my hair, while I cried for piety and tried vainly cover my privates. I would be beaten and humiliated completely nude in front of all colleagues! Fatima easily applied me a double hammerlock, and made me walk round the gymnasium to expose me to the assistance, holding my both wrists with one hand, while the other squeezed my nape like torturing cramps or pliers.

– I will put you to shame in front of the guys, including your beautiful boyfriend!

And she made me walk slowly in front of them; I think that they really appreciated my humiliation, my tits and buttocks bouncing in that macabre stroll for the glory of their libido. Several times she stopped squeezing the nape of my neck and spanked hard my buttocks, which turned red. It was the ultimate humiliation: be spanked nude and dominated in front of all, in front of my boyfriend! My cheeks were wet by the tears I dropped, while my great bottom "cheeks" were getting red and swollen, manhandled by the cruel spanker.

The punishment continued: she ordered me, in front of the audience, to squat and stand up several times, alternatively, like a remote controlled dummy, just to demonstrate that in fact I had became a toy in her hands.

After fifteen minutes of obedience and shame, she applied me the expected camel clutch, just for me appreciate again my own medicine. Comfortably seated on the small of my back, she bent me to the limit only chin locking me, my arms pending limply, like a rag doll. I began drooling while murmuring incomprehensible clemency words. But my groans sounded like bird melody to Fatima's ears, that slowly and painfully used her feet to spread my legs further and further apart, just to expose better my ass and womanhood to everybody. The move increased the pain, I soon was unable even to moan, feeling tingling all over my body. And eventually I passed out.

When I woke up, I was laid on the mat on my back, spread-eagled and exposing my now shaved pussy to all. Fatima showed me a little clear plastic bag full of my pubic hair ("A 'souvenir', darling!", she said), put one feet pressing hard my bladder. I was on the verge to wee and so I urinated, out of control, on the mat, making a great round stain on it.

But the humiliation would have a final act: Fatima took a red lipstick and wrote on my belly – BEATEN, pussy SHAVED – she faced me down and, after scrubbing my nose on my own wee, like a dog, completed the phrase on my back – HUMILIATED AND – on the buttocks, distributing the words by the cheeks – SPAN-KED –, and on the posterior thighs and calves – BY A BLACK GIRL.

Then, Fatima, sitting on my thighs, grabbed my wrists with one hand, made my legs apart with her feet, and rammed the lipstick into my ass! I cried, I shouted desperately, trying to lock the ass hole, but it was in vain. People, finally and mercifully, halted the torture... Thanks God!

After be stretched like a marshmallow, I had to go out of the academy in a stretcher, to José's home, near the gymnasium, covered by that degrading words, by shame, and two towels – and with a lipstick in my ass! José, obviously, was furious, thinking in five penis – apart from his own phallus, of course – getting stiffened at the view of my cute and humiliated body, including my delicate tits, my gorgeous butt and my rose and shaved pussy... And it took hours to shit that damned lipstick!

Humiliating too was to come back to the gymnasium on Monday, and see Fatima wearing my confiscated outfit. In order to promote a better "recuerdo", she was wearing like a armband my lemon green panties and exposing like a cameo the little bag full of my pubic – and now public! – hair! Looking at that, my legs trembled and the view of my tormentor, torturer, butcher... monster, yes, monster... filled me of fear and the urge of defecate. I had to run desperately to the bathroom and I evacuated a lot... And people mocked while I was seated in panic on the toilet, coming out in cold sweat...

Oh! one minute after, she walked into the bathroom and, while I was seated there expelling all my fear, she shaved my head bald using an electric razor... She told me that during my last 5 days in that country I would serve her and Juana as a slave. I had to obey, otherwise she would had annihilated me again.

Oh, shame! That last week I had to expose my bald head to all my colleagues. It made me remind all the time of my vexer and was a striking mark of humiliation for me. And at every night, I had to be the black girls' shaved white slave, maid and manicurist...

On the last Friday night of my stay, while the group was having fun, I had to clean the floor of the black room mates' apartment... It was very degrading...

On the last Saturday, when I went to the airport to get my flight home, it seemed as if I was leaving hell. It was the most humiliating page in my life's history... Fortunately, I hope, I'll never see my cruel punisher again...

Back to the devastating camel clutch hold

Humiliation  and camel clutch hold are related. Regarding the theme, the text below is very interesting (http://justinachilli.com/2004/05/13/the-camel-clutch-devastating/). Its author, Justin Achilli, tells about the moral effects of being submitted to a camel clutch - in a male/male confront, it must be said, which is not exactly my cup of tea (nevertheless, the text is worth to be read):

The camel clutch: devastating - When I was nine or maybe 10, I got in a fight with Jon Wiffenbach. I know that sounds like a made-up name but it isn’t. Dude’s name was Jon Wiffenbach. I don’t remember why we fought but I do remember being king-hell angry about whatever it was, so mad I was shaking. It was probably something stupid, like he made fun of Starscream or something, but man, was I furious. The fight took place at day care, right by the trampoline (I attended the day care as a child before I worked there as a surly teenager. Creepy) on the carpeted side of the courtyard. I can’t recall how it happened, but I somehow knocked Jon Wiffenbach to the floor and into position for an application of the Camel Clutch. In layman’s terms, Jon Wiffenbach was face-down on the ground. I straddled Jon’s back, locked my fingers around his forehead and pulled. The result was astounding. His face turned all red and he couldn’t resist very long. I remember him wheezing both out of pain and asphyxiation. Deprived of air, he couldn’t mount a counterattack. Obviously, the Camel Clutch is fucking badass. While thinking about this today, I wondered a few things. It’s hard to get a dude in a Camel Clutch. You have to get him on the ground, in a certain position, and he has to stay there long enough for you to reposition yourself and then still be incapacitated long enough for you to apply the hold itself. Speaking from experience, anytime I’ve faced a situation in which a camel Clutch might be applied, that fight is long done. If I’m face-down on the ground and unable to move, I’ve had my ass kicked so hard I can probably taste my lungs crumpling. On the other hand, if I’m kicking the ass in question, why would I ever choose to apply the Camel Clutch? I mean, yeah, it rocks a dude, but a Flurry of Head Kicks or Jumping On the Dude’s Spine is equally as ruinous but less difficult to manage. Is it the psychological value that makes the Camel Clutch so wicked? Maybe. (It’s certainly not the name. Camel Clutch. Beware its cousin move, the far less appropriate Donkey Punch.) A dude who gets Camel Clutched has been rocked nonpareil. You never see it in a street fight because it’s so ridiculous. The day after your ass gets handed to you by way of Camel Clutch, your friends are embarassed to talk to you. Your girlfriend starts dating the pizza guy instead of you. Police laugh at you and the waitresses never again call you “honey” at the Waffle House. It looks totally absurd, even more so for the victim than the aggressor. What else works like this? I tried to Pedigree Chad once but the camera didn’t catch it properly and he hit me with a garbage can afterward. We were iron-man fighting at GenCon one year on the fourth floor of the Marc Plaza, during which I used my legs to grapevine Mariolis’ arm in an attempt to break it, and he picked me up and drove me back into the floor. A few weeks ago at a party Becky was throwing I knocked a giant dude down on the ground and shoved my fingers in his eyes. None of these have the humiliation of the Camel Clutch. What might be its equal?

Although the author describes a fight between children, the moral consequences of a camel clutch ia a male-male match is the focus of his concerns. I think that - at least in general - the feelings involved in a female fight are very different of those related to a male one. Males are concerned about win the opponent and demonstrate to females his superior strenght. That is, perhaps, a primitive value (or instinct). Women are, in principle, more attratcted to stronger males on the winning side. So, a defeated male is, after all, an inferior macho at the eyes of women.

This is not, nevertheless, an absolute explanation for all feelings related to the consequences of a male/male fight  It is much possible I come back to this issue in a posterior post. And, regarding female fights, the effects are notoriously different. A friend of mine addict to female fights explained me that your feelings are much complex: on one hand, the victorious lady, particularly when she displays the defeated girl as a trophy, is similar to a predator who gains the right of enjoy sexually every man in the audience, including him (my male friend); and if the victim was his girlfriend, or simply a girl interested in him, the sexual appeal increases a lot. It is the old theme of the seed spreader, who loves being the object of desire of all women. On the other hand, the humiliated loser, as a poor prey, enhances the primeval macho protective instinct, which leads him to take care of the weaker girl and, of course, sexually possess her. It is very complex the matter, and this is only the begining of my reflexions about it. I am sure that I will come back to the theme. The pic below is very complex, as the post issue.

It shows a camel clutch partially viewed from rear. The winner is a hottie girl and the victim is completely naked (humiliation of humiliations). I figure out the loser as a girl (delicate legs, and perhaps some shadowy female locks of hair in the background - oh, hair, always the hair...) Who could prove it, nevertheless? The victim could be a young and delicate man... Mixed fight is not my cup of tea, too, but it tastes good when adequately hot...

Camel clutches and hair

In a female fight, I have no doubt about it, humiliation is as necessary as the victory itself. The camel clutch hold is perfect to humiliate your opponent, and you can lay hold of an equally perfect humiliating plus: the hairpulling. Well, I love hair subjects, as it is possible to see in the prior posts, and I believe that a good hairpulling is very efficient to increase the victim's sense of humiliation. The girl under control is transformed into a trophy on display and is forced to see the audience, for whose pleasure she is being humiliated. The image of a loser's head grabbed by a winner is a myth perpetuated by the classical sculptures of Perseus with the Head of Medusa. I think this is a permanence of a primitive desire of blood, as when, in the ancient times (and in the modern ones too), decapitated heads, grabbed by the hair, were shown to barbarian and so-called civilized audiences. Well, in female fight, there is no need of blood, nevertheless, our heads are at risk to be to put in shame by a nasty hairpulling, like in the two pics below, in which both girls are paying the price for not follow a basic principle: do not face a stronger girl, unless you are sure your skills are sufficient to neutralize the handicap of strenght.

In the first pic, the girl in yellow refuses to face the audience and, then, she internalizes her shame (with the help of a grimace), after be beaten by the opponent with sexy legs and charming foot posing.

The second girl faces obliquosly the shame, but involuntarily smiles, in a mix of humiliation, pain and anger, all converging in a deep sense of helplessness, while her muscled opponent makes a victory pose to enhance the humiliation of the poor cutie.

Time to raising hair

I love hair effects, including the raising ones. Cloth grabbing, expressions and a lovely big round butt complete a remarkable scene...

Besides the hair effect, a lipstick colour matching perfectly with the hue on her lovely thrashed butt-cheeks...

A side hair effect, a pair lovely legs kicking and a beautiful couple of spanker and spankee... An almost perfect scene...

Oh, gosh, I think it is alluring. The hand-pinning against the lower back is a great move. It is a pity the victim is not in the nude...

"Here we go..."

Pics about the romero hold preparation are quite rare. I like them very much, mainly because they enhanced the bending maneuver on the victim.

We can see in these pics the girl in green of the prior post being prepared and suspended aloft by her tormentor.

STJ's old pics were very interesting and had a good dosis of didacticism, lol!

Transcripting the ceiling hold recipe in the last pic: "1: Start out standing atop your opponent's thighs, lock both her legs inside yours and grab both her arms; 2: Bend your knees slightly and sit back pulling your opponent's back towards you by both her arms; 3: Rock back onto your back keeping your legs slightly bent as you pull her backwards by her arms; 4:Straighten your legs as she roll atop you and lift her up using your legs; 5: Now grab her arms at about the mid forearm or upper wrist and pull downwards; 6: Keep her legs securely locked with yours by maintaining a steady pull on her arms; 7: Repeatedly jitter her up and down with short leg lifts and drops until she yells 'I give!'."

Toys in the attic: the ceiling hold!

Well, the ceiling hold (or Romero hold, or Mexican surfboard hold) is obviously fake, but it does not matter.

It is necessary to imagine that the victim is so physically and morally beaten that it is better for her to cooperate with her tormentor. So, it is a kind of forced obedience - one of the worst humiliations in catfight and wrestling.

Here we can see a green attire-clad girl in a Romero hold submission. The poor nice girl's expression is so lovely and catatonic that causes me a frisson of a misterious pleasure...

And her hair offers us another beautiful spectacle...

"Everybody let their hair down... oh, yeah!"

In contrast to the prior post, poor charming Zora's hair enchants us in this backbreaker!

 And it must be said: not only her hair...

A good backbreaker, but...

Backbreakers are really great. These pics are worth seeing, mainly because the desparation of the poor broken girl, who claws in vain her tormentor's thigh in the second pic.

In the first one, both expressions say all about dominance, sense of power, helplessness and humiliation...

It is a pity that the victim's hair has not produced a cool effect...

Pics and movies

Pics are, in general, more attractive than movies in catfight, female wrestling, spanking and other virtuous fantasy themes. The expressions, features or details, which may pass by unnoticed in movies, can be congealed and, thus, enhanced, for the glorious of our excitement. In turn, only movies can show us the continued verbal expression of winners and losers - which could only be showed in pics by inserting subtitles or speech bubbles. The movie below and the pic of the prior post refer to the same scenario and fighters. The only advantage of the movie, however, is the vivacity of the dialogue, in which the forced obedience and desperation of the victim are expressed.

Boner instead of bones

A friend of mine told me he had a boner when he saw for the first time the pic below. I deeply understand him. In fact, there is a lot of exciting elements here. First of all, the hands of the victim, in a desperate way to alleviate the pain; one of them tries in vain to hold her tormentor's arm; the another one touches something invisible in the air. Her catatonic scared expression contrasts with the feeling of power in the opponent's face. The beautiful body of the poor girl is like a human trophy, full of marvelous details: the limp leg, the erect nipples, the sexy moles... Oh, my God, and what about the hair, pointing down like an erotic rain? And, after all, we have the right to imagine she is naked! So, have a nice wank/finger-job...

Other bones!

It is the time for clavicles and sternum to burst onto the scene. It is lovely to see the poor victim's bones appearing under the skin in a well-applied camel clutch.. Nice expressions too!

Speaking of ribs...

If the hands of the victim are unable to reach the floor, a chin lock hold may be more devastating than a camel clucth. 

In these pics, poor Zora is suffering like hell at the mercy of Aziza! 

The blonde's expression is pure agony, especially when the stonger rival makes pressure on the ribs...

Talking about a myth - and "o mito é o nada que é tudo" ("myth is the nothing that is everything").

Speaking of black girls beating white ones, a classic and lovely myth regarding female wrestling and catfights. I guess the fight between Zora and Aziza, in the late 90's, is one of the most exciting missmatch I have ever seen, It was produced by the glorious (at that time) Woman's World Wrestling Club. Zora was one the most charmant wrestlers on the loser side, she acted very well (oh, lots of groanings, screaming submissions and faintings) and was beuatiful. In this match, Aziza beat the shit out of Zora, who submited several times in desparation and pain. In these pics, we can see an exemplary camel clutch. Poor Zora was so bent back that we could play piano on her ribs, and her chest was so flattened by the pressure that we could confuse it with a boy's one!

A humiliating hold II

The same beautiful black girl uses her nice arms to dominate another white hottie. This black girl knows how to bend her opponents, making skinfolds on the poor blonde's back! Is this the reason why she laughs so happy?

A humiliating hold

The camel clutch is one the most humiliating holds. The victim is transformed into a body trophy, at the entire mercy of her tormentor. A perfect camel clutch includes an apropriete butt-back angle, which signifies pain and desperation, and a kind of non-flapping wings replacing the victim's arms, well placed on the dominat woman's thighs. This pic shows a lively and vigorous black woman humiliating a helpless brunette, who is screaming in great pain. It is an almost perfect camel clutch, however I wish the brunette were naked... The folded legs up of the screaming girl, in turn, are an exciting detail!

Brutality and beauty

The final humiliation: the stronger blonde makes a victory pose after beating and stripping a beautiful petite brunette, whose head is scissored by two muscle thighs, between which the delicate polished-nailed hand of the victim, in a inutile effort to get free, makes up an exciting detail...

Another pics of an almost perfect spanking

These pics are not so good as the prior one, but are worth to be seen. After all, a hairpulling is something special in spankings too...