HOME | DD

Description

Previous: www.deviantart.com/cfmech/art/…

Next: www.deviantart.com/cfmech/art/…

Dara might have wanted to change her trajectory, but every idea her corner offered required more stamina than her body seemed willing to offer. She found air in short supply and her torrent of offense slowed to a trickle. The distinct feeling of being betrayed by her body, of feeling ragged and tattered, gnawed at her. Dara had never possessed true one punch knockout power, and sapped of her speed, Breanna found it much easier to navigate the countours of the UCLA product's offense. She snapped Dara's head back multiple times in the round with sharp punches thrown with her signature patience. Where Dara might have been content to exhaust herself in search of an early win Breanna wanted to be sure of everything she did.

The round's first inflection point came on a failed takedown. The 3 punches Dara sent to set up the ankle pick each came a moment too late, but Breanna's sprawl came right on time. With her hips low and back, Dara's takedown accomplished approximately nothing. Instead Breanna threatened a guillotine choke before swiveling and taking her opponent's back in one smooth motion.

"Did you mean to do that at half speed?" Breanna taunted.

"Did you mean to shut up?" Dara gasped, more embarrassed than hurt.

Pressed against the Latina woman's back, Breanna transitioned from a guillotine to a rear naked choke, and found herself uncharacteristically annoyed when a tired Dara defended it with aplomb.

"I'm tired, not stupid." Dara protested, pulling a red glove away from her neck. But she was still pressed face first against the canvas, still in just about the worst position she could imagine. She pushed up, carrying Breanna's full weight, squinting when fingers from that same red glove gripped her nose and cheek.

"You sure? You seem pretty stupid for a Doctor." Breanna grinned, lining up her next shot.

Description

Previous: www.deviantart.com/cfmech/art/…

Next: www.deviantart.com/cfmech/art/…

Dara might have wanted to change her trajectory, but every idea her corner offered required more stamina than her body seemed willing to offer. She found air in short supply and her torrent of offense slowed to a trickle. The distinct feeling of being betrayed by her body, of feeling ragged and tattered, gnawed at her. Dara had never possessed true one punch knockout power, and sapped of her speed, Breanna found it much easier to navigate the countours of the UCLA product's offense. She snapped Dara's head back multiple times in the round with sharp punches thrown with her signature patience. Where Dara might have been content to exhaust herself in search of an early win Breanna wanted to be sure of everything she did.

The round's first inflection point came on a failed takedown. The 3 punches Dara sent to set up the ankle pick each came a moment too late, but Breanna's sprawl came right on time. With her hips low and back, Dara's takedown accomplished approximately nothing. Instead Breanna threatened a guillotine choke before swiveling and taking her opponent's back in one smooth motion.

"Did you mean to do that at half speed?" Breanna taunted.

"Did you mean to shut up?" Dara gasped, more embarrassed than hurt.

Pressed against the Latina woman's back, Breanna transitioned from a guillotine to a rear naked choke, and found herself uncharacteristically annoyed when a tired Dara defended it with aplomb.

"I'm tired, not stupid." Dara protested, pulling a red glove away from her neck. But she was still pressed face first against the canvas, still in just about the worst position she could imagine. She pushed up, carrying Breanna's full weight, squinting when fingers from that same red glove gripped her nose and cheek.

"You sure? You seem pretty stupid for a Doctor." Breanna grinned, lining up her next shot.