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Description
Author's Note: Veherzak and I started this collaboration way back in the early days of summer. Isa Armstrong is his character, and we took turns writing this -- astute readers might be able to pick out where my voice ends and his begins, or vice versa. Everyone enjoys the pictures, of course, but we do hope you enjoy the story below as well.

Previous: Strange in a Strange Land IV

There was a flicker of concern across Camille’s face before she forced it down with a nod. It had crossed her mind to question that, to ask if Isa needed more time to recover, but she knew she wouldn’t have appreciated it in the other woman’s place. And, if she wouldn’t have, why would Isa?

If she thought she was ready, Camille was going to take her word for it.

At the same time, the Girl of Tomorrow had to admit her mind had gone suddenly and embarrassingly blank. She’d imagined Isa would be going again and several moments went by as she tried to settle on something.

“Mind getting on your front again?” Cosworth asked as soon as she had something in mind (and if it’d given Isa a chance to take a breath, well, that was only fair).

Rolling over once again, Isa took deep breaths, doing her best not to dwell on all the ways this could hurt. In preparation for her bout with Samiya, she’d been thinking on submissions a lot and now all those ideas were running back through her mind with an emphasis on Camille putting her through them.

On Camille’s side of the fence, she was remembering all the other reasons why she hated this game. Being put in a submission hold and not being able to fight it, that sucked. But she didn’t care much for the other side of the plate either, and not only because she found submission holds dull as dishwater.

Shaking her musings aside, Cosworth settled down on Isa’s lower back, facing her legs. Settling on the left, she tucked it under her right armpit, securing it with her linked hands.

“Okay then, round two – and here we GO!”

On the last, she leant back, fully applying the Single-Leg Crab, and waited for Isa to sing out.

Not to give up, of course, but something. A scream. A groan. Something.

Though giggling – pained giggling, but still giggling – Camille had not expected.

“Pole dancer,” Isa managed through her quiet laughter, “You don’t think I’m going to tap to- NNGH!”

Cosworth leant back harder but, though she’d stopped laughing, Armstrong seemed in no hurry to give up.

Ten seconds ticked by. Twenty. Isa definitely wasn’t laughing now, her lips pressed together, but she was taking it far better than either of them had survived the first round. Already, Camille found herself wishing she’d picked something else. Practicing submission holds with Yoona was a decidedly mixed experience in all sorts of ways but it had enhanced her arsenal with holds that even the ex-ballerina struggled to take (though Cam still thought they were dull, give her a good Moonsault any day).

Unless Isa was literally triple-jointed, no amount of dancing training or flexibility would have helped her with those.

The Single-Leg Crab was not one of those holds and, with Isa seemingly able to touch the back of her head with her foot, that might be a problem for Camille. Was apparently going to be a problem if the Romani wrestler’s restrained reactions were any indication.

“Hey, um,” She asked after the forty second mark, visions of Yoona’s match with Babe Babcock playing in her head, all but hearing her girlfriend’s sardonic chuckle, “Is this actually doing anything?”

“Feels – UGH – kinda good actually.” There was definite strain in Armstrong’s tone now but nowhere near as much as Cosworth would like, albeit one of her hands was clenched into a fist. “Oughta thank you for playing chiropractor.”

Well. Fine.

Widening her stance, Camille leant back further, deepening the arch in Isa’s back until she was all but staring at the lights. But she knew she’d messed up.

Why she’d picked a stretching hold against someone she knew to be a dancer she had no idea…

Seconds later, Camille decided that she’d had enough, even if Isa hadn’t.

“Looks like you take this round.” There was a note of relief in her voice as she gave up, releasing the hold and going to take a seat on the mats, “I really ought to have known better than to try and bend a dancer. Darn freaky flexible bendy-backs…”

Next: Stranger in a Strange Land VI

Description
Author's Note: Veherzak and I started this collaboration way back in the early days of summer. Isa Armstrong is his character, and we took turns writing this -- astute readers might be able to pick out where my voice ends and his begins, or vice versa. Everyone enjoys the pictures, of course, but we do hope you enjoy the story below as well.

Previous: Strange in a Strange Land IV

There was a flicker of concern across Camille’s face before she forced it down with a nod. It had crossed her mind to question that, to ask if Isa needed more time to recover, but she knew she wouldn’t have appreciated it in the other woman’s place. And, if she wouldn’t have, why would Isa?

If she thought she was ready, Camille was going to take her word for it.

At the same time, the Girl of Tomorrow had to admit her mind had gone suddenly and embarrassingly blank. She’d imagined Isa would be going again and several moments went by as she tried to settle on something.

“Mind getting on your front again?” Cosworth asked as soon as she had something in mind (and if it’d given Isa a chance to take a breath, well, that was only fair).

Rolling over once again, Isa took deep breaths, doing her best not to dwell on all the ways this could hurt. In preparation for her bout with Samiya, she’d been thinking on submissions a lot and now all those ideas were running back through her mind with an emphasis on Camille putting her through them.

On Camille’s side of the fence, she was remembering all the other reasons why she hated this game. Being put in a submission hold and not being able to fight it, that sucked. But she didn’t care much for the other side of the plate either, and not only because she found submission holds dull as dishwater.

Shaking her musings aside, Cosworth settled down on Isa’s lower back, facing her legs. Settling on the left, she tucked it under her right armpit, securing it with her linked hands.

“Okay then, round two – and here we GO!”

On the last, she leant back, fully applying the Single-Leg Crab, and waited for Isa to sing out.

Not to give up, of course, but something. A scream. A groan. Something.

Though giggling – pained giggling, but still giggling – Camille had not expected.

“Pole dancer,” Isa managed through her quiet laughter, “You don’t think I’m going to tap to- NNGH!”

Cosworth leant back harder but, though she’d stopped laughing, Armstrong seemed in no hurry to give up.

Ten seconds ticked by. Twenty. Isa definitely wasn’t laughing now, her lips pressed together, but she was taking it far better than either of them had survived the first round. Already, Camille found herself wishing she’d picked something else. Practicing submission holds with Yoona was a decidedly mixed experience in all sorts of ways but it had enhanced her arsenal with holds that even the ex-ballerina struggled to take (though Cam still thought they were dull, give her a good Moonsault any day).

Unless Isa was literally triple-jointed, no amount of dancing training or flexibility would have helped her with those.

The Single-Leg Crab was not one of those holds and, with Isa seemingly able to touch the back of her head with her foot, that might be a problem for Camille. Was apparently going to be a problem if the Romani wrestler’s restrained reactions were any indication.

“Hey, um,” She asked after the forty second mark, visions of Yoona’s match with Babe Babcock playing in her head, all but hearing her girlfriend’s sardonic chuckle, “Is this actually doing anything?”

“Feels – UGH – kinda good actually.” There was definite strain in Armstrong’s tone now but nowhere near as much as Cosworth would like, albeit one of her hands was clenched into a fist. “Oughta thank you for playing chiropractor.”

Well. Fine.

Widening her stance, Camille leant back further, deepening the arch in Isa’s back until she was all but staring at the lights. But she knew she’d messed up.

Why she’d picked a stretching hold against someone she knew to be a dancer she had no idea…

Seconds later, Camille decided that she’d had enough, even if Isa hadn’t.

“Looks like you take this round.” There was a note of relief in her voice as she gave up, releasing the hold and going to take a seat on the mats, “I really ought to have known better than to try and bend a dancer. Darn freaky flexible bendy-backs…”

Next: Stranger in a Strange Land VI