She struggles to breathe out, a short, sharp sound--a laugh, really--because if there's one thing she both hates and appreciates, it's balls. Kate has proved herself. It has not endeared her to Johanna, necessarily; there's nothing that can endear anyone. But she appreciates it, which counts for a hell of a lot more.

All of that amusement is in her response. One word, bitten out: "No."

With a grunt of effort, Johanna digs her fingers in a little deeper--and uses that momentum to arch her back, raise her head as much as she possibly can. It isn't much, but it stops a little of the pressure on her throat, releases a bit of the dizzying feeling working against her. It also distances herself from Kate, warmth and damp sweat--and then she hoists her hips as high as she can, digs her knees in against the mat and pushes, her shoulders against the back of Kate's thighs, pushing up on her legs as she does. The movement jams her face against Kate's midsection for a moment, but she tries to arch her neck upwards again, alleviate the strain that puts on her neck once more. If she can get Kate to give first--and she probably can't--but the slim narrow chance is one she has to take.