Post by Lookout! Boxing on Sept 29, 2023 20:40:34 GMT -6
Dakota Johnson vs Ashley Greene
(Results: Lookout / Words: Queens)
Dakota Johnson
(33, 5’7.5”, 119lbs, 4:17 FCBA, Queens of Absolution)
Ashley Greene
(36, 5’5”, 119lbs, 23:32 FCBA, Free Agent)
BEFORE:
Dakota Johnson, Hollywood's rogue princess. An actress by day, but beneath those glamorous gowns and that innocent smile, lies a lean, mean, boxer. Standing alone in her corner of the ring at the colossal SoFi Stadium, she's a vision of power wrapped in black. Her physique, sculpted to perfection from countless hours of grueling training with the legendary Saraya, stands as a testament to pure grit and determination. Her core muscles, visible beneath the black studded sports bra, ripple with every breath, a tangible reminder of her strength. Those black studded trunks she dons only amplify the fierceness in her stance. Her boots, dyed a stark black, plant her firmly on the canvas, ready to deliver a dance of devastation. And those gloves, those ominous black gloves she bears, are just itching to paint a masterpiece of mayhem on Ashley Greene's face. This is no red carpet event. This is Dakota Johnson, ready to unleash hell.
Across the ring stands her opponent, Ashley Greene. But Dakota's unwavering gaze, steely and fixed, barely registers the other woman. Instead, she's a statuesque figure of intimidation. The veins in her brawny biceps twang like guitar strings, threatening to play a symphony of pain on Ashley. Her abs are a set of interlocking bricks, the product of endless hours of grueling workouts, ready to absorb any hits that come their way. The muscles on her back ripple beneath her porcelain skin as she moves, a testament to her power and agility. Her legs are pillars of strength, coiled and ready to propel her forward into an offensive strike at the blink of an eye. Her fists, encased in those pitch-black gloves, are tight and hard like a pair of iron hammers, ready to deliver blows that could feel like they're chiseled from stone. Even through the glaring stadium lights, she exudes an aura, a shimmering forcefield of raw power and unrelenting will.
On the other side of the battlefield, bathed in the harsh spotlight of anticipation, stands Ashley Greene. Clad in a provocative turquoise blue sports bra that contrasts her sun-kissed skin, white boots with white boxing gloves, and white trunks that accentuate her well-defined abs, the athletic actress is a picture of defiance and determination. Her taut muscles, sculpted through hours of relentless training, glisten with sweat as they clench in anticipation. The lean lines of her figure, from the sinewy strength of her arms to the athletic build of her legs, are a testament to her readiness for the battle ahead.
Her gaze meets Dakota's, an unspoken recognition of the daunting task ahead—the bantamweight stepping into the ring with a lightweight. The specter of intimidation casts a shadow over Greene’s normally radiant confidence. The disparity in their weight divisions is not lost on her, the reality of the challenge she has accepted sitting heavily on her shoulders. Her every breath betrays her apprehension, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she steels herself for the inevitable onslaught. Despite this, there's a fire in her hazel eyes, a fierce determination that promises not to go down without a fight. Dakota's formidable presence across the ring only fuels her resolve, and she squares her shoulders, ready to meet the storm head-on.
This entire spectacle had been Ashley's making. It was her audacious challenge to Dakota in front of the proud girls of the Queens of Absolution that sparked this now-infamous face-off. A sense of ominous anticipation hung in the air, ripe with the realization that Ashley might have bitten off more than she could chew. Dakota's rigorous training with Saraya was the talk of the FCBA. Whispers of their brutal practice sessions, of Dakota's rapid transformation under the wrestling legend's watchful eye, had been making rounds in the fitness circuit. The gossip was that Dakota had become a boxing juggernaut, hitting with a force akin to a sledgehammer, and now, Ashley was in her crosshairs. A collective breath was held as Ashley, the challenger, steadied herself for the first round, her eyes a portal to the storm of determination brewing within her.
The crowd fell into an anticipatory hush as Dakota's hypnotic gaze pierced the space between them, her lips curling into a cruel smirk. She leaned into the microphone, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "Ashley," she began, her tone laced with venomous delight. "You stand there, in the ring, pretending you're a match for me? Let's be real, hun. I've replaced you in the Queens of Absolution. The girls don’t miss your absence one bit." She chuckled, a sound as cold as the black leather that hugged her form. "They’ve got a real fighter with them now. Not a little doll who thinks she can play rough."
Her eyes narrowed, the intensity of her gaze could have drilled holes into a diamond. "You may have trained, Ashley. But so did I. And I assure you, darling," her voice dropped an octave lower, resounding through the stadium with menacing confidence, "I am stronger. So much stronger. You're about to discover what it's like to be hit by a train. And trust me, it's not a joyride." Her words hung in the air, an ominous promise of the carnage to come, eliciting an excited murmur from the audience that filled SoFi.
Round 01:
The bell rang, signaling the commencement of the first round. Dakota catapulted out of her corner like a bullet. The entire arena shook as she launched her opening assault, her fists moving at a speed that made them nearly invisible to the naked eye. Blows rained down on Ashley in a relentless barrage, a symphony of bone-crushing power that echoed through the stadium. Ashley was tossed around the ring like a ragdoll, struggling to withstand Dakota's brutal onslaught.
Dakota was relentless. Her left hook, as swift as a hawk diving for its prey, landed squarely on Ashley's jaw, sending shockwaves down her spine. The audience gasped collectively as Ashley staggered, her body reeling from the impact. Dakota wasted no time. She lunged forward, her right fist drawn back like an arrow in a bow. The punch, when it landed, was like an avalanche. A powerful uppercut to Ashley's midsection that left the latter doubled over, gasping for breath.
But Dakota wasn't finished. She danced around Ashley, her movements fluid and precise. She was a predator, toying with its prey. Then she struck again. A one-two punch combination that hit Ashley square in the chest. The force of the blow was so strong, it sent Ashley sprawling backwards, landing on the cold ropes.
Each attack from Dakota was a lesson in power and brutality. Her fists, encased in those ominous black gloves, were instruments of destruction, breaking down Ashley's resistance with terrifying efficiency. And with each devastating blow, Dakota's smirk grew wider, a chilling testament to the storm of violence she had unleashed in the ring.
The announcers could barely contain their excitement, shouting over each other as they narrated the unfolding mayhem. "The rumors were true!" one of them yelled, his voice a mixture of astonishment and apprehension. "Dakota Johnson is someone you’re not going to want to mess with!”
Dakota's punches, each one landed with a force that could shatter steel, pushed Ashley onto the back foot. She was forced to adopt a defensive stance, raising her gloves to shield her face as she weathered the storm. Despite being pummeled mercilessly, Ashley managed to fight back. Relying on her own training, she retaliated with a series of counter-attacks, managing to score a few hits of her own.
Dakota's punches were a spectacle of sheer force and precision—her gloved fists cutting through the air like lightning before finding their mark with unerring accuracy. Each hit delivered was a spectacle of raw power, the impact reverberating across the stadium as skin and muscle met the unforgiving force of Dakota's trained strength. Her left hook was a lethal weapon, a sweeping arc of energy that would explode against Ashley's jaw, sending tremors down her body. Her right cross was no less fearsome; a straight punch that plunged into Ashley's torso with the weight of a sledgehammer, robbing her of breath.
Dakota's pummeling was a brutal ballet, her fists dancing around Ashley in a dizzying flurry of punches that left no part of her untouched. From her toned abs to her sculpted face, every inch of Ashley became a canvas for Dakota's wrath. Each hit was a testament to Dakota's training, her body coiling and uncoiling with the rhythm of her assault, her punches a symphony of devastation that left Ashley staggering.
Yet, Ashley was not a punching bag to be battered without recourse. Despite the relentless onslaught, she found the will to fight back. Using every ounce of her training, she began to counter-attack. She ducked under a particularly vicious swing from Dakota, retaliating with a swift jab to Dakota's ribs. She managed to weave around Dakota's left hook, answering with a punch to Dakota's midsection. It was a dance of defiance, Ashley's counter-attacks a beacon of resistance amidst the storm. Every hit she landed against the seemingly unstoppable Dakota was a victory, a testament to her spirit, and a promise of a fight that was far from over.
The atmosphere crackled with an undeniable, thrilling tension. as the round progressed. Dakota continued her merciless attack, her every punch a testament to the brutal training she had undergone. Yet, Ashley held her ground, withstanding Dakota's ruthless assault with unyielding determination. It was a performance that had the entire audience on the edge of their seats, a thrilling display of sheer willpower and resilience.
As the end of the round approached, the referee was forced to intervene, separating the two women who seemed intent on annihilating each other. Dakota sneered at Ashley, taunting the other actress as she pranced back to her corner. Ashley, in contrast, was a battered figure of agony. She moved slowly, each step a testament to the pain coursing through her body. Yet, there was a glimmer of defiance in her eyes, a silent vow that she wasn't going to go down without a fight. As the bell rang, signaling the end of the round, there was no disputing who had dominated. Dakota Johnson had emerged as an unstoppable force.
Round 02 and 03:
Round two started with both women poised in their corners, eyes locked, muscles taut, waiting for the bell's sharp blare. As the unmistakable sound echoed through the stadium, Ashley sprang into action. This time, she was the one to take the offensive, having learned her lesson in the previous round. It was clear that she had changed tactics, focusing on mobility to dodge Dakota's powerful swings.
With nimble movements that spoke volumes of her agility and quick thinking, Ashley began to weave around Dakota, her feet light on the canvas as she danced out of Dakota's reach. Dakota's punches, though packed with a punch that could split a mountain, met only air. Ashley was so swift; she seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at the same time.
Ashley's agility wasn't her only weapon. She retaliated with a flurry of jabs and hooks, each one carefully aimed and timed. Her punches were like quicksilver, swift and elusive, yet firm and accurate. Dakota, taken by surprise, struggled to fend off Ashley's relentless assault, her once impenetrable guard starting to falter.
Round three saw Ashley build on her momentum, her confidence growing with each dodged punch. Dakota, roiling with frustration, lunged at her with renewed vigor, but Ashley was ready. She danced around the ring, her body weaving through Dakota's punches like a swift river around hard rocks. It was an elegant display of defensive boxing: tactful, calculated, and impeccable.
As the round neared its end, Ashley seized her chance. In a move that no one saw coming, she pivoted on her heel and launched a menacing blow straight into Dakota's lean abs. The shock of the punch reverberated through the stadium, a sickening sound that silenced the crowd. Dakota gasped, eyes widening in surprise and pain, but before she could retaliate, the bell had sounded and the round was over.
Ashley, exhausted yet triumphant, couldn't resist a victorious smirk. She taunted Dakota, her words echoing through the suddenly quiet stadium. "You're not the only one who can pack a punch, Johnson," she gloated, her voice ringing with undisguised satisfaction. Dakota, forced to swallow the bitter taste of defeat in these rounds, could only glare at her adversary as the audience erupted in cheers. The stage was now set for a thrilling showdown in the forthcoming rounds.
Round 04:
Round four began with a thrum of anticipation. Dakota, seething from the previous rounds and the surprise jab to her abs, was a picture of fury, her lean, sinewy body pulsating with rage. Her eyes were burning embers, her lips curled in a snarl of determination. Dakota was no longer the poised boxer from earlier rounds; she was now a force of nature, a storm ready to decimate anything in her path.
The bell sounded, and Dakota was a terrifying spectacle of unleashed fury. Her fists were a blur, a flurry of punches that rained down on Ashley with unerring accuracy. Each hit was a harmony of brutality, echoing with the sound of flesh meeting iron-hard knuckles. Ashley tried to defend herself, bobbing and weaving in a desperate attempt to dodge Dakota’s brutal assault, but it was in vain.
Dakota’s fury transcended the physical realm, transforming her into a savagely beautiful figure of raw power and agility. Her muscles rippled under her sweat-slicked skin with every movement, a testament to the grueling training she had undergone. She moved with the grace of a panther, her body coiling and uncoiling with brutal elegance.
Dakota didn't give Ashley a moment's reprieve. She was a storm of punches, her fists moving in a mesmerizing rhythm of assault. Ashley was helpless against the whirlwind that was Dakota, her own punches barely making a dent against the relentless onslaught.
As Dakota stormed forward, every inch of her being screamed danger. Her punches were quick and powerful, each one carrying a weight of bone-crushing force. Ashley, once the agile and swift boxer, was now reduced to a defensive shell, each of Dakota's punches forcing her backward, her hair whipping wildly with each forceful blow.
There was a raw, primal energy about Dakota, each punch she threw seemed to carry the force of a train. Her jabs were swift, her hooks ruthless, and her uppercuts bone-jarring. Before Ashley could even think of landing a counter-punch, another of Dakota's brutal blows would land, sending shockwaves through her body.
Ashley staggered, her body crying out in pain and exhaustion. Yet, she refused to give in. She tried to retaliate, to land a punch, a jab, anything. But Dakota was relentless, her fists a blur of devastating power. Each swing, each punch, was a reminder of Dakota's formidable strength and skill.
As the round wore on, it was evident who was dominating the fight. Dakota was a force to be reckoned with, an embodiment of raw power and aggression. Ashley, left reeling from the relentless onslaught, clenched her teeth in defiance. She may have been down, but she wasn't out. Not yet.
As the bell tolled, signaling the end of the round, Dakota landed a brutal belly punch on Ashley. The force of the punch was so powerful, it lifted Ashley slightly off the canvas. The stadium fell silent, the crowd collectively holding its breath as they watched Ashley crumple to the floor.
Dakota, standing tall and victorious over her fallen opponent, smirked cruelly. "I hope you've learned your lesson, Greene," she taunted, her voice ringing out across the silent stadium. "You're not in my league." Her words were met with a deafening roar from the crowd, a testament to Dakota's domination of the round. Ashley, still reeling from the punch, could only glare up at Dakota. The stage was set for a thrilling conclusion to this vengeful grudge match.
Round 05:
Round five began, and Dakota was a tempest, a virulent cyclone of raw power and aggression. Her lithe body, slick with sweat and pulsing with hard-earned muscle, moved with a brutal grace that was nearly hypnotic. The crowd, once raucous, fell into a hushed silence; all eyes were locked onto the spectacle unfolding within the ring.
Ashley, still reeling from the previous rounds, was a picture of defiance. Her abs, once a symbol of her pride and strength, now bore the bruising testament of Dakota's relentless assault. With each punishing blow to her midsection, she gasped, each breath drawn like a gargled scream. Dakota was unyielding, her fists hammering Ashley's abs with a feral intensity that left her gagging and coughing.
Dakota was a relentless storm, her fists pounding into Ashley's body with the rhythm of a war drum. Her punches were ruthless, each one carrying the brutal force of a battering ram. Ashley was tossed around the ring like a ragdoll, her body lurching with each punishing blow.
The penultimate moment came in a heartbeat. Dakota, her eyes alight with the primal thrill of the hunt, reared back and threw a haymaker. The punch connected with Ashley's cheek with the force of a freight train, the sound echoing throughout the stadium like a gunshot. Ashley's head snapped back, her body spinning into a turnbuckle before crumpling to the canvas.
The stadium was silent as the ref began the obligatory count. Dakota, standing over Ashley’s crumpled form, was a vision of savage beauty, a brutal new member of the Queens of Absolution in the ring. As the count reached ten, and Ashley remained unmoving on the canvas, the crowd erupted in a deafening roar. Dakota Johnson had won the grudge match, a testament to her raw power, brutal strength, and legendary training.
Official Decision: Dakota Johnson defeats Ashley Greene via KO 5!
AFTER:
After her victorious moment, Dakota didn't miss a beat before she moved on to the next act. She grabbed a handful of Ashley's hair, her fingers curling around the strands with a cruel grip. She signaled for a mic, her other hand never leaving Ashley's hair as she dragged her to the center of the ring.
"There's a reason you were dropped from the Queens of Absolution, I'm it," Dakota's voice echoed throughout the stadium, a cruel smirk playing on her face. The crowd erupted in cheers, the spectacle far from over. Dakota shoved the mic against Ashley's face, her words a low growl. "Now apologize to me."
Ashley's eyes were filled with defiance, wincing from the pain in her hair but refusing to comply. Dakota's smirk widened, her hand leaving Ashley's hair to grab the mic again. "Well, since you refuse, I've got a 'going away' gift for you," she announced, her voice ringing loud and clear.
The entire stadium seemed to hold its breath, the announcers screaming at each other in disbelief. "Are we going to see a second Paige Tap Out tonight?" one of them asked, his voice filled with excitement and anticipation. Dakota's face, lit up with a savage grin, was the answer they were looking for. The crowd roared in approval, the anticipation palpable in the air. The match might have ended, but the night was far from over.
Dakota's eyes burned with a cruel excitement as she began the process of putting Ashley into the infamous Paige Tap Out. With a swift movement, she pulled Ashley's battered form up from the canvas, her hands gripping tightly around Ashley's upper arms. Dakota's biceps, glistening with perspiration, strained with the effort, her veins standing out in stark relief against her porcelain skin.
With a sudden jerk, Dakota forced Ashley's arm behind her back, the joint bending at an uncomfortable angle. Dakota's fingers, strong from countless hours of training, closed around Ashley’s wrist, holding it in place. Her forearm muscles flexed, the sinews rippling under her skin as she applied pressure.
Without missing a beat, Dakota hooked her leg around Ashley's, her thigh muscles bulging with the effort. The tight fabric of her shorts strained to contain the strength of her legs, molding to the shape of her chiseled quadriceps and hamstrings. She forced Ashley's body downwards, bending at the knee, her calf muscle flexing visibly.
Completing the hold, Dakota reached forward and threaded her other arm under Ashley's chin. Her shoulder and bicep muscles hardened visibly, her deltoids standing out as she wrenched back on Ashley's head, forcing her neck into an unnatural arch. Dakota's abs, a hard, washboard surface, contracted with the strain, each well-defined muscle standing out starkly.
Dakota's face was a picture of focused aggression, her eyes narrowed and unyielding. The sheen of sweat that covered her body only emphasized the definition of her muscles, each one standing out in sharp relief. As the stadium erupted in cheers, Dakota's cheeks flushed with the thrill of victory, her chest heaving with exertion. Each breath she took showcased the ridges of her intercostal muscles, testifying to her incredible fitness and tenacity. She was the epitome of power and dominance, a visual manifestation of her training with Paige.
In the midst of the stadium's deafening roar, Ashley's desperate screams were drowned out, her body writhing in the punishing Paige Tap Out. The defiance in her eyes faded as Dakota's brutal hold forced her to acknowledge the inevitable. She squirmed, her body twisting in futile resistance before finally, she gave a frantic tap against Dakota's iron grip. The arena erupted in a frenzy as Ashley choked out an apology, her voice barely a whisper. Suddenly, Dakota released her, allowing Ashley's battered form to collapse onto the canvas, where she was quickly attended to by the waiting medics.
The referee, a towering figure, stepped forward, grabbing Dakota's hand and raising it high. Dakota stood tall, an undeniable force in the ring. Her body, slick and gleaming with sweat, was a testament to her intense training and raw power. Each muscle on her perfectly chiseled form seemed to radiate strength, from the toned biceps that had unleashed a storm of punishing blows, to the washboard abs that had withstood the entirety of the brutal match. Her legs, lean and powerful, were planted firmly on the canvas, showcasing the strength that had propelled her to victory.
Her chest heaved with every breath, the rise and fall accentuating the tonality of her defined pectoral and intercostal muscles. Veins, like intricate roadmaps, traced across her arms, highlighting the power that lay beneath the surface. Her face, flushed with the thrill of victory, bore a fierce expression, a savage smile playing on her lips. As the crowd roared her name, Dakota Johnson, the brutal victor of the grudge match, stood as an undeniable symbol of raw power, brutal strength, and absolute dominance.
(Results: Lookout / Words: Queens)
Dakota Johnson
(33, 5’7.5”, 119lbs, 4:17 FCBA, Queens of Absolution)
Ashley Greene
(36, 5’5”, 119lbs, 23:32 FCBA, Free Agent)
BEFORE:
Dakota Johnson, Hollywood's rogue princess. An actress by day, but beneath those glamorous gowns and that innocent smile, lies a lean, mean, boxer. Standing alone in her corner of the ring at the colossal SoFi Stadium, she's a vision of power wrapped in black. Her physique, sculpted to perfection from countless hours of grueling training with the legendary Saraya, stands as a testament to pure grit and determination. Her core muscles, visible beneath the black studded sports bra, ripple with every breath, a tangible reminder of her strength. Those black studded trunks she dons only amplify the fierceness in her stance. Her boots, dyed a stark black, plant her firmly on the canvas, ready to deliver a dance of devastation. And those gloves, those ominous black gloves she bears, are just itching to paint a masterpiece of mayhem on Ashley Greene's face. This is no red carpet event. This is Dakota Johnson, ready to unleash hell.
Across the ring stands her opponent, Ashley Greene. But Dakota's unwavering gaze, steely and fixed, barely registers the other woman. Instead, she's a statuesque figure of intimidation. The veins in her brawny biceps twang like guitar strings, threatening to play a symphony of pain on Ashley. Her abs are a set of interlocking bricks, the product of endless hours of grueling workouts, ready to absorb any hits that come their way. The muscles on her back ripple beneath her porcelain skin as she moves, a testament to her power and agility. Her legs are pillars of strength, coiled and ready to propel her forward into an offensive strike at the blink of an eye. Her fists, encased in those pitch-black gloves, are tight and hard like a pair of iron hammers, ready to deliver blows that could feel like they're chiseled from stone. Even through the glaring stadium lights, she exudes an aura, a shimmering forcefield of raw power and unrelenting will.
On the other side of the battlefield, bathed in the harsh spotlight of anticipation, stands Ashley Greene. Clad in a provocative turquoise blue sports bra that contrasts her sun-kissed skin, white boots with white boxing gloves, and white trunks that accentuate her well-defined abs, the athletic actress is a picture of defiance and determination. Her taut muscles, sculpted through hours of relentless training, glisten with sweat as they clench in anticipation. The lean lines of her figure, from the sinewy strength of her arms to the athletic build of her legs, are a testament to her readiness for the battle ahead.
Her gaze meets Dakota's, an unspoken recognition of the daunting task ahead—the bantamweight stepping into the ring with a lightweight. The specter of intimidation casts a shadow over Greene’s normally radiant confidence. The disparity in their weight divisions is not lost on her, the reality of the challenge she has accepted sitting heavily on her shoulders. Her every breath betrays her apprehension, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she steels herself for the inevitable onslaught. Despite this, there's a fire in her hazel eyes, a fierce determination that promises not to go down without a fight. Dakota's formidable presence across the ring only fuels her resolve, and she squares her shoulders, ready to meet the storm head-on.
This entire spectacle had been Ashley's making. It was her audacious challenge to Dakota in front of the proud girls of the Queens of Absolution that sparked this now-infamous face-off. A sense of ominous anticipation hung in the air, ripe with the realization that Ashley might have bitten off more than she could chew. Dakota's rigorous training with Saraya was the talk of the FCBA. Whispers of their brutal practice sessions, of Dakota's rapid transformation under the wrestling legend's watchful eye, had been making rounds in the fitness circuit. The gossip was that Dakota had become a boxing juggernaut, hitting with a force akin to a sledgehammer, and now, Ashley was in her crosshairs. A collective breath was held as Ashley, the challenger, steadied herself for the first round, her eyes a portal to the storm of determination brewing within her.
The crowd fell into an anticipatory hush as Dakota's hypnotic gaze pierced the space between them, her lips curling into a cruel smirk. She leaned into the microphone, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "Ashley," she began, her tone laced with venomous delight. "You stand there, in the ring, pretending you're a match for me? Let's be real, hun. I've replaced you in the Queens of Absolution. The girls don’t miss your absence one bit." She chuckled, a sound as cold as the black leather that hugged her form. "They’ve got a real fighter with them now. Not a little doll who thinks she can play rough."
Her eyes narrowed, the intensity of her gaze could have drilled holes into a diamond. "You may have trained, Ashley. But so did I. And I assure you, darling," her voice dropped an octave lower, resounding through the stadium with menacing confidence, "I am stronger. So much stronger. You're about to discover what it's like to be hit by a train. And trust me, it's not a joyride." Her words hung in the air, an ominous promise of the carnage to come, eliciting an excited murmur from the audience that filled SoFi.
Round 01:
The bell rang, signaling the commencement of the first round. Dakota catapulted out of her corner like a bullet. The entire arena shook as she launched her opening assault, her fists moving at a speed that made them nearly invisible to the naked eye. Blows rained down on Ashley in a relentless barrage, a symphony of bone-crushing power that echoed through the stadium. Ashley was tossed around the ring like a ragdoll, struggling to withstand Dakota's brutal onslaught.
Dakota was relentless. Her left hook, as swift as a hawk diving for its prey, landed squarely on Ashley's jaw, sending shockwaves down her spine. The audience gasped collectively as Ashley staggered, her body reeling from the impact. Dakota wasted no time. She lunged forward, her right fist drawn back like an arrow in a bow. The punch, when it landed, was like an avalanche. A powerful uppercut to Ashley's midsection that left the latter doubled over, gasping for breath.
But Dakota wasn't finished. She danced around Ashley, her movements fluid and precise. She was a predator, toying with its prey. Then she struck again. A one-two punch combination that hit Ashley square in the chest. The force of the blow was so strong, it sent Ashley sprawling backwards, landing on the cold ropes.
Each attack from Dakota was a lesson in power and brutality. Her fists, encased in those ominous black gloves, were instruments of destruction, breaking down Ashley's resistance with terrifying efficiency. And with each devastating blow, Dakota's smirk grew wider, a chilling testament to the storm of violence she had unleashed in the ring.
The announcers could barely contain their excitement, shouting over each other as they narrated the unfolding mayhem. "The rumors were true!" one of them yelled, his voice a mixture of astonishment and apprehension. "Dakota Johnson is someone you’re not going to want to mess with!”
Dakota's punches, each one landed with a force that could shatter steel, pushed Ashley onto the back foot. She was forced to adopt a defensive stance, raising her gloves to shield her face as she weathered the storm. Despite being pummeled mercilessly, Ashley managed to fight back. Relying on her own training, she retaliated with a series of counter-attacks, managing to score a few hits of her own.
Dakota's punches were a spectacle of sheer force and precision—her gloved fists cutting through the air like lightning before finding their mark with unerring accuracy. Each hit delivered was a spectacle of raw power, the impact reverberating across the stadium as skin and muscle met the unforgiving force of Dakota's trained strength. Her left hook was a lethal weapon, a sweeping arc of energy that would explode against Ashley's jaw, sending tremors down her body. Her right cross was no less fearsome; a straight punch that plunged into Ashley's torso with the weight of a sledgehammer, robbing her of breath.
Dakota's pummeling was a brutal ballet, her fists dancing around Ashley in a dizzying flurry of punches that left no part of her untouched. From her toned abs to her sculpted face, every inch of Ashley became a canvas for Dakota's wrath. Each hit was a testament to Dakota's training, her body coiling and uncoiling with the rhythm of her assault, her punches a symphony of devastation that left Ashley staggering.
Yet, Ashley was not a punching bag to be battered without recourse. Despite the relentless onslaught, she found the will to fight back. Using every ounce of her training, she began to counter-attack. She ducked under a particularly vicious swing from Dakota, retaliating with a swift jab to Dakota's ribs. She managed to weave around Dakota's left hook, answering with a punch to Dakota's midsection. It was a dance of defiance, Ashley's counter-attacks a beacon of resistance amidst the storm. Every hit she landed against the seemingly unstoppable Dakota was a victory, a testament to her spirit, and a promise of a fight that was far from over.
The atmosphere crackled with an undeniable, thrilling tension. as the round progressed. Dakota continued her merciless attack, her every punch a testament to the brutal training she had undergone. Yet, Ashley held her ground, withstanding Dakota's ruthless assault with unyielding determination. It was a performance that had the entire audience on the edge of their seats, a thrilling display of sheer willpower and resilience.
As the end of the round approached, the referee was forced to intervene, separating the two women who seemed intent on annihilating each other. Dakota sneered at Ashley, taunting the other actress as she pranced back to her corner. Ashley, in contrast, was a battered figure of agony. She moved slowly, each step a testament to the pain coursing through her body. Yet, there was a glimmer of defiance in her eyes, a silent vow that she wasn't going to go down without a fight. As the bell rang, signaling the end of the round, there was no disputing who had dominated. Dakota Johnson had emerged as an unstoppable force.
Round 02 and 03:
Round two started with both women poised in their corners, eyes locked, muscles taut, waiting for the bell's sharp blare. As the unmistakable sound echoed through the stadium, Ashley sprang into action. This time, she was the one to take the offensive, having learned her lesson in the previous round. It was clear that she had changed tactics, focusing on mobility to dodge Dakota's powerful swings.
With nimble movements that spoke volumes of her agility and quick thinking, Ashley began to weave around Dakota, her feet light on the canvas as she danced out of Dakota's reach. Dakota's punches, though packed with a punch that could split a mountain, met only air. Ashley was so swift; she seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at the same time.
Ashley's agility wasn't her only weapon. She retaliated with a flurry of jabs and hooks, each one carefully aimed and timed. Her punches were like quicksilver, swift and elusive, yet firm and accurate. Dakota, taken by surprise, struggled to fend off Ashley's relentless assault, her once impenetrable guard starting to falter.
Round three saw Ashley build on her momentum, her confidence growing with each dodged punch. Dakota, roiling with frustration, lunged at her with renewed vigor, but Ashley was ready. She danced around the ring, her body weaving through Dakota's punches like a swift river around hard rocks. It was an elegant display of defensive boxing: tactful, calculated, and impeccable.
As the round neared its end, Ashley seized her chance. In a move that no one saw coming, she pivoted on her heel and launched a menacing blow straight into Dakota's lean abs. The shock of the punch reverberated through the stadium, a sickening sound that silenced the crowd. Dakota gasped, eyes widening in surprise and pain, but before she could retaliate, the bell had sounded and the round was over.
Ashley, exhausted yet triumphant, couldn't resist a victorious smirk. She taunted Dakota, her words echoing through the suddenly quiet stadium. "You're not the only one who can pack a punch, Johnson," she gloated, her voice ringing with undisguised satisfaction. Dakota, forced to swallow the bitter taste of defeat in these rounds, could only glare at her adversary as the audience erupted in cheers. The stage was now set for a thrilling showdown in the forthcoming rounds.
Round 04:
Round four began with a thrum of anticipation. Dakota, seething from the previous rounds and the surprise jab to her abs, was a picture of fury, her lean, sinewy body pulsating with rage. Her eyes were burning embers, her lips curled in a snarl of determination. Dakota was no longer the poised boxer from earlier rounds; she was now a force of nature, a storm ready to decimate anything in her path.
The bell sounded, and Dakota was a terrifying spectacle of unleashed fury. Her fists were a blur, a flurry of punches that rained down on Ashley with unerring accuracy. Each hit was a harmony of brutality, echoing with the sound of flesh meeting iron-hard knuckles. Ashley tried to defend herself, bobbing and weaving in a desperate attempt to dodge Dakota’s brutal assault, but it was in vain.
Dakota’s fury transcended the physical realm, transforming her into a savagely beautiful figure of raw power and agility. Her muscles rippled under her sweat-slicked skin with every movement, a testament to the grueling training she had undergone. She moved with the grace of a panther, her body coiling and uncoiling with brutal elegance.
Dakota didn't give Ashley a moment's reprieve. She was a storm of punches, her fists moving in a mesmerizing rhythm of assault. Ashley was helpless against the whirlwind that was Dakota, her own punches barely making a dent against the relentless onslaught.
As Dakota stormed forward, every inch of her being screamed danger. Her punches were quick and powerful, each one carrying a weight of bone-crushing force. Ashley, once the agile and swift boxer, was now reduced to a defensive shell, each of Dakota's punches forcing her backward, her hair whipping wildly with each forceful blow.
There was a raw, primal energy about Dakota, each punch she threw seemed to carry the force of a train. Her jabs were swift, her hooks ruthless, and her uppercuts bone-jarring. Before Ashley could even think of landing a counter-punch, another of Dakota's brutal blows would land, sending shockwaves through her body.
Ashley staggered, her body crying out in pain and exhaustion. Yet, she refused to give in. She tried to retaliate, to land a punch, a jab, anything. But Dakota was relentless, her fists a blur of devastating power. Each swing, each punch, was a reminder of Dakota's formidable strength and skill.
As the round wore on, it was evident who was dominating the fight. Dakota was a force to be reckoned with, an embodiment of raw power and aggression. Ashley, left reeling from the relentless onslaught, clenched her teeth in defiance. She may have been down, but she wasn't out. Not yet.
As the bell tolled, signaling the end of the round, Dakota landed a brutal belly punch on Ashley. The force of the punch was so powerful, it lifted Ashley slightly off the canvas. The stadium fell silent, the crowd collectively holding its breath as they watched Ashley crumple to the floor.
Dakota, standing tall and victorious over her fallen opponent, smirked cruelly. "I hope you've learned your lesson, Greene," she taunted, her voice ringing out across the silent stadium. "You're not in my league." Her words were met with a deafening roar from the crowd, a testament to Dakota's domination of the round. Ashley, still reeling from the punch, could only glare up at Dakota. The stage was set for a thrilling conclusion to this vengeful grudge match.
Round 05:
Round five began, and Dakota was a tempest, a virulent cyclone of raw power and aggression. Her lithe body, slick with sweat and pulsing with hard-earned muscle, moved with a brutal grace that was nearly hypnotic. The crowd, once raucous, fell into a hushed silence; all eyes were locked onto the spectacle unfolding within the ring.
Ashley, still reeling from the previous rounds, was a picture of defiance. Her abs, once a symbol of her pride and strength, now bore the bruising testament of Dakota's relentless assault. With each punishing blow to her midsection, she gasped, each breath drawn like a gargled scream. Dakota was unyielding, her fists hammering Ashley's abs with a feral intensity that left her gagging and coughing.
Dakota was a relentless storm, her fists pounding into Ashley's body with the rhythm of a war drum. Her punches were ruthless, each one carrying the brutal force of a battering ram. Ashley was tossed around the ring like a ragdoll, her body lurching with each punishing blow.
The penultimate moment came in a heartbeat. Dakota, her eyes alight with the primal thrill of the hunt, reared back and threw a haymaker. The punch connected with Ashley's cheek with the force of a freight train, the sound echoing throughout the stadium like a gunshot. Ashley's head snapped back, her body spinning into a turnbuckle before crumpling to the canvas.
The stadium was silent as the ref began the obligatory count. Dakota, standing over Ashley’s crumpled form, was a vision of savage beauty, a brutal new member of the Queens of Absolution in the ring. As the count reached ten, and Ashley remained unmoving on the canvas, the crowd erupted in a deafening roar. Dakota Johnson had won the grudge match, a testament to her raw power, brutal strength, and legendary training.
Official Decision: Dakota Johnson defeats Ashley Greene via KO 5!
AFTER:
After her victorious moment, Dakota didn't miss a beat before she moved on to the next act. She grabbed a handful of Ashley's hair, her fingers curling around the strands with a cruel grip. She signaled for a mic, her other hand never leaving Ashley's hair as she dragged her to the center of the ring.
"There's a reason you were dropped from the Queens of Absolution, I'm it," Dakota's voice echoed throughout the stadium, a cruel smirk playing on her face. The crowd erupted in cheers, the spectacle far from over. Dakota shoved the mic against Ashley's face, her words a low growl. "Now apologize to me."
Ashley's eyes were filled with defiance, wincing from the pain in her hair but refusing to comply. Dakota's smirk widened, her hand leaving Ashley's hair to grab the mic again. "Well, since you refuse, I've got a 'going away' gift for you," she announced, her voice ringing loud and clear.
The entire stadium seemed to hold its breath, the announcers screaming at each other in disbelief. "Are we going to see a second Paige Tap Out tonight?" one of them asked, his voice filled with excitement and anticipation. Dakota's face, lit up with a savage grin, was the answer they were looking for. The crowd roared in approval, the anticipation palpable in the air. The match might have ended, but the night was far from over.
Dakota's eyes burned with a cruel excitement as she began the process of putting Ashley into the infamous Paige Tap Out. With a swift movement, she pulled Ashley's battered form up from the canvas, her hands gripping tightly around Ashley's upper arms. Dakota's biceps, glistening with perspiration, strained with the effort, her veins standing out in stark relief against her porcelain skin.
With a sudden jerk, Dakota forced Ashley's arm behind her back, the joint bending at an uncomfortable angle. Dakota's fingers, strong from countless hours of training, closed around Ashley’s wrist, holding it in place. Her forearm muscles flexed, the sinews rippling under her skin as she applied pressure.
Without missing a beat, Dakota hooked her leg around Ashley's, her thigh muscles bulging with the effort. The tight fabric of her shorts strained to contain the strength of her legs, molding to the shape of her chiseled quadriceps and hamstrings. She forced Ashley's body downwards, bending at the knee, her calf muscle flexing visibly.
Completing the hold, Dakota reached forward and threaded her other arm under Ashley's chin. Her shoulder and bicep muscles hardened visibly, her deltoids standing out as she wrenched back on Ashley's head, forcing her neck into an unnatural arch. Dakota's abs, a hard, washboard surface, contracted with the strain, each well-defined muscle standing out starkly.
Dakota's face was a picture of focused aggression, her eyes narrowed and unyielding. The sheen of sweat that covered her body only emphasized the definition of her muscles, each one standing out in sharp relief. As the stadium erupted in cheers, Dakota's cheeks flushed with the thrill of victory, her chest heaving with exertion. Each breath she took showcased the ridges of her intercostal muscles, testifying to her incredible fitness and tenacity. She was the epitome of power and dominance, a visual manifestation of her training with Paige.
In the midst of the stadium's deafening roar, Ashley's desperate screams were drowned out, her body writhing in the punishing Paige Tap Out. The defiance in her eyes faded as Dakota's brutal hold forced her to acknowledge the inevitable. She squirmed, her body twisting in futile resistance before finally, she gave a frantic tap against Dakota's iron grip. The arena erupted in a frenzy as Ashley choked out an apology, her voice barely a whisper. Suddenly, Dakota released her, allowing Ashley's battered form to collapse onto the canvas, where she was quickly attended to by the waiting medics.
The referee, a towering figure, stepped forward, grabbing Dakota's hand and raising it high. Dakota stood tall, an undeniable force in the ring. Her body, slick and gleaming with sweat, was a testament to her intense training and raw power. Each muscle on her perfectly chiseled form seemed to radiate strength, from the toned biceps that had unleashed a storm of punishing blows, to the washboard abs that had withstood the entirety of the brutal match. Her legs, lean and powerful, were planted firmly on the canvas, showcasing the strength that had propelled her to victory.
Her chest heaved with every breath, the rise and fall accentuating the tonality of her defined pectoral and intercostal muscles. Veins, like intricate roadmaps, traced across her arms, highlighting the power that lay beneath the surface. Her face, flushed with the thrill of victory, bore a fierce expression, a savage smile playing on her lips. As the crowd roared her name, Dakota Johnson, the brutal victor of the grudge match, stood as an undeniable symbol of raw power, brutal strength, and absolute dominance.