Danny Dimples is lean and clean. A rookie. He does not yet know the trouble waiting for him. Chace LaChance looks him over and speaks without heat. “I think I’m just going to beat the shit out of you.” He means it. The hairy powerhouse has spent years at this work, and tonight the lesson is simple and hard.
Chace comes in leaner than ever before. Ripped & Cut. Thick through the chest. Hair dark and heavy. He looks like a man who has nothing to prove and intends to prove it anyway.
He takes Danny in tight bearhugs and crushes the air from him, then slams him flat to the ring canvas. He flexes a big arm in Danny’s face and tells him to look at it. To admire it. Double-Handed Choke lifts follow. Torture racks. Boston crabs that bend the spine. Camel clutches that leave nowhere to go. Chace talks the whole time. He doesn’t cheat much. He doesn’t have to. A rough wedgie here and there, just enough to humiliate, just enough to remind Danny who owns the ring.
The big legs come into play. Thick quads lock around Danny’s narrow, rippled waist and then around his pretty boy neck. Danny fights. Then he doesn’t. He submits again and again, begging for mercy, pleading for it to stop. T
he words come easy now. The lesson is delivered. Danny Dimples will not forget the night he learned what it means to stand across from the hairy hunk from New England—Chace LaChance.
