The following is the intro for our Society Poll Fight between Serena and Lyanna. Both fighters will post pictures of themselves as they see fit and make their first moves after this intro.
Good luck!
Lyanna stood near one corner of the expansive living area that seemed to take up much of the $50,000/night penthouse suite on top of the extravagant Four Seasons Hotel on 57th Street in Midtown Manhattan in New York City. The venue was different than the one she had been to previously. There was extensive remolding being done on the regular venue for Society events, the penthouse on the fortieth floor of the Times Square Building in Times Square. The Four Seasons gave us the perfect arena considering size and opulence for what we hoped would prove to be the encounter of the Society series season this year.
Lyanna couldn’t believe it was finally happening. She walked over to her friend Michelle and asked her for about the hundredth time to pinch her hard to make sure this was really happening, and that she wasn’t dreaming or lost in some bizarre, confused fog. This entire “happening”, the extravagant cocktail party, this gorgeous opulent room, the people, even the view out the expansive floor-to-ceiling picture windows that seemed to make up the entire north and west walls of the penthouse, were beyond her comprehension. The windows looked out over the wide green expanse of Central Park and with a light mist and fog hanging over the trees it was something bordering on the surreal.
For Lyanna it was a chance at redemption, a chance to right what she considered a tragic wrong. It was a chance for her to prove to everyone what she herself was confidant that she knew in her heart. That she was the best and this was finally her opportunity to prove just that. She walked along the windows of that glass wall, occasionally peering back over her shoulder and looking at the crowd of people that were present for this event. People from all walks of life, politics, finance, real estate, entertainment, a veritable who’s who of everyone who was anyone in New York.
There was another thing that was different about this “time” too, as opposed to her first. She remembered how she marveled that first time as she stood in that room, at that party, and how self-conscious she felt and how she had to keep reminding herself that while she was there, she was not one of them.
No longer…. now she was one of them.
Tonight she was here for a very special reason. In fact, she was the reason they were here. This was no ordinary party, no ordinary event. This was not just a gathering of New York’s rich high society elite, the city’s rich, famous and powerful. There was none like it in the country, maybe the world. It was the most secretive, exclusive and elite catfight club in the country. The women, like Lyanna, who regularly fought here were the elite members of the cat fighting world, and the prize money they earned as a result of putting their bodies on the line was beyond the comprehension of any other underground “club” in the world.
As Michelle had explained it to Lyanna on her first trip to New York, no one was “invited” to join the Society. Fighters, who by virtue of their skill and ability, caught the attention of the Society might be asked to come to New York and prove their worthiness for membership by fighting – either fighting a Society member or fighting another candidate. If she won, she would earn a place among the Society’s regular members, and a ticket to a very different and often very lucrative and affluent lifestyle.
For Lyanna, the result this time just had to be different. She had worked too hard, waited to long for this chance. She was ready. She knew had better be ready to enable her to avoid a replay of what was probably the low point in her career, her defeat in her first Society fight at the hands of Serena. The fight was one for the ages and one that kept the onlookers in person and on closed-circuit television on the edges of their seats. It was a close, brutally hard fought contest that somehow Lyanna failed to capture. Many in attendance couldn’t believe the outcome and most knew then that a rematch simply had to occur at some point in time. That time was NOW!
The bad taste of losing that evening to Serena lingered in Lyanna’s mouth a long time and if she let herself lose control of her thoughts, that result could still bring her down greatly. But she had learned, she had grown and she had trained for this moment. She had been given a second and a third chance and it was now up to her to take advantage of it.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror that made up most of one wall. At five feet seven, she was almost as tall as any of the women in the room, and her four-inch heels elevated her even further. Her golden blonde, cut in a bob that just dangled to her shoulders, made her stand out among the flock of blondes and the few scattered brunettes mingling about the room
Lyanna had also decided to be a bit unconventional and make a fashion statement. Unlike the usual long evening gowns and cocktail dresses that seemed to be the “weapon of choice” for most of the women here, she was dressed in a sleeveless black top that clung closely to her slender voluptuous figure like a second skin figure, ending just below her navel to reveal the smooth, taut skin covering the hard abs of her belly, and which also showed off her toned arms and shoulders, the sinewy muscle development. She had matched her top with a pair of tight fitting pants that hugged her rounded, slightly upturned buttocks and supple thighs, flaring out a little below, leaving most of her lean, toned calves exposed down through her ankles converging to her shiny strapless patent leather heels.
She had gotten many looks since she had arrived – a few quizzical, some appraising, but the vast majority admiring and even lustful. She smiled to herself. Standing out from the crowd, making herself noticed, was what she did, what she wanted to do.
The veteran members knew her now and would stop buy and offer their best wishes. She wasn’t the overtly sociable type and never had been but she secretly delighted in the attention she was receiving. Truth be known, she actually wanted to be by herself, to get her thoughts together and begin to focus on the task at hand.
Michelle walked up behind her, tapped her on the shoulder and handed her the crystalline flute of champagne and smiled into her eyes. Michelle and Lyanna were close friends and it was Michelle who introduced Lyanna to the Society and who’s efforts were in many ways the reason for this event finally coming to fruition.
As she handed Lyanna the glass she leaned in, kissed her on the cheek and whispered in her ear,
“Can’t believe it can you?”
“I told you it would happen in time”
“I’m glad we were able to have it here what with the remodeling going on at the penthouse” “This is a great spot and I hope it meets with your approval” “The members seem to really like it”
Lyanna smiled and took Michelle’s hand and squeezed it, leaning in and whispering over the din of those present,
“I’m blown away by everything, it’s amazing!” ‘I owe you and Michael a debt of gratitude for putting this together”
Michelle smiled and whispered back,
“Oh you made it happen really, your hard work and persistence paid off and Michael and I are just happy to be facilitators” “It’s now up to you”
“I have to go greet some more members I see have arrived, so relax, get ready and show them why they all are so lucky to be here to see you.
To be here tonight seemed almost unthinkable to her after the years of fighting in the underground clubs and dive bars through which Lyanna had fought her way up the ranks of the more skilled cat fighters. When she had first started fighting as an amateur and even later as a professional, she had never even heard of the Society, though there were the constant rumors of its existence. She had been completely dumbfounded when a woman – a woman! – had appeared in the dressing room after a club fight in Miami and offered her the chance to fight for a place here. That woman turned out to be Michelle.
Serena walked around and as always spent time accepting greetings from many of the assembled throng tonight. She felt a familiar uneasiness in her stomach, a familiar fluttering in her belly. But it was nothing new for her. It told her she was on edge, sharp and ready. She always felt at home in New York. Her friend Michelle and her friend Michael saw to that both fighters felt welcome and at home. They went the extra mile to see that even they’re smallest of needs were met. They had resolved that the more relaxed and at home the women felt, the more focused they could be on their ultimate performance. Serena had become a favorite of the Society membership as she had a flair and a style all her own. She was not only gorgeous but outgoing friendly and played to the crowd. She was no stranger to Society matches and this one would bring an even higher level of familiarity to her, as it was the rematch of a fight she had with Lyanna over six months ago. It was a close, hard fought and some might say controversial fight with regard to the outcome. Serena, as always was gracious in every way. She had reasons to want this fight very badly too. She had heard the rumors; the whispers that maybe she “got lucky” and she couldn’t in a million years beat Lyanna again. She was determined to put those thoughts to bed forever. She was determined to show once and for all that she was the best and no upstart from Miami was going to take what Serena had earned. She would fight tonight and no matter how many times she fought, that tiny hint of apprehension was always there in spite of her outer exhibited confidence. She welcomed it though. She was a veteran and she knew any little edge that kept her head “in the game” and kept her from being over-confident would only help her in the end. Even the best and most experienced fighters such as Serena could have an off night. A bad night in a Society fight, because of the high level of competition, could REALLY be a bad night if one wasn’t careful
She lifted an arm up to straighten the thin strap of her black silk Dolce and Gabana gown as she stood among a small group of party guests. She feigned interest in the conversation between an American hedge fund vice president and a British risk analysis manager regarding their latest M&A success. A French IMF bank officer stood by Serena’s side and his eyes couldn’t stop diverting to the deeply plunging neckline of Serena’s designer evening gown and the display of ample cleavage. His left hand was continually gliding up and down her right arm. He would occasionally whisper something in her ear and she would force a smile and let her eyes meet his for a brief instant, then turn away, her dark eyes rolling with an almost disgusted and amused look. Most who noticed the scene probably were assuming he was laying the groundwork to try and charm her into bed later. Serena was likely more interested in his younger red-haired supermodel-type wife. Such are the goings on at a Society cocktail party. Sometimes the drama and intrigue at the party can exceed that in the fight. She listened politely to the banker but she couldn’t help but let her eyes survey the room.
The floor-to-ceiling windows that covered three of the walls reflected her image back to her. She smiled secretly, pleased with what she saw. Her dark brown hair was loose and fell across her bare shoulders, framing her flawlessly made-up face. Her arms and shoulders were muscular and toned though feminine, a testament to her rigorous workout regime. The dress hugged her full bosom, her narrow waist and the seductive swell of her full hips. It was slit almost to the hip on the left side, revealing the full expanse of one shapely but powerful, toned thigh. The well-conditioned muscles were clearly displayed when she walked and she was truly a vision. She had foregone any jewelry tonight, letting the unadorned elegance of her dress send its message – simple, direct and purposeful.
The banker’s tale was interrupted by the delicate but insistent clink! clink! of a spoon against a crystalline glass, which rang out through the room. All heads turned toward a man who stood near the windows at one end, backed by the impressive vista of downtown Manhattan. Tall, dark-haired and bearing a passing resemblance to a younger George Clooney, he was dressed in khaki pants and a blue sports jacket over an open necked white shirt. Serena knew him only as Michael, the owner of the original apartment, and the host of these parties and a member of the Society’s committee. She noted as he began to speak that Michelle stood by his side and clutched his left arm. Michelle glanced over at Serena and winked, then leaned in and whispered in Michael’s ear, who smiled a bit just before he began to speak,
“Ladies and gentlemen!” His voice did not seem overly raised yet it carried effortlessly across the broad space. “It’s time for us to begin with the festivities that we all really came here to witness.” “Oh…and btw, please feel free to put money in the tip jar at the door and at the bar if you enjoyed MY free food and MY free booze” “Michelle also says she needs a new wardrobe and I need a lot of help on that!”
“JUST KIDDING!”
Michelle’s eyes rolled skyward and she smiled broadly as a burst of laughter filled the expanse. The room then suddenly seemed to grow quieter and Serena could feel the tension building in the air. Her own butterflies ramped up their buzzing in her belly
“Many of you may remember the visitor from our sister club in Rome, La Società Felina Italiana, who won a close, hotly contested, victory here about six months ago. She’s back in New York and has agreed to fight again for us tonight. Please welcome Serena!” He extended his arm in Serena’s direction and she stepped forward and smiled amid applause from the audience, as she handed her glass of orange juice to an older gentleman standing next too her who had spent the better part of the last 20 minutes looking down the front of her dress. Serena finally had a way to make a graceful exit from his “attentions” and she made to her way across the room, raising her right hand up and waving to well-wishers as she made her way up to the front of the room. She stood at Michael’s left elbow as Michelle stepped to the side. He gave Serena a cordial smile before turning his attention back to the room.
“More recently, we’ve seen several fighters from Miami dominate their opponents to win Society membership,” Michael continued. “Tonight we have a special treat in store for you.” “We have returning to face Serena someone you all know and respect” “She also faced Serena here in New York six months ago in what might have been the most trilling match we have ever had here” “I’m sure you all will recognize and give a warm New York welcome to – Lyanna!” He gestured to his right and Serena followed the direction of his arm to a tall, striking woman with startlingly blonde hair who stepped forward looking a little nervous but also with a steely-eyed look of determination on her face. “Please join me in welcoming to New York once again, Lyanna!”
At first, there was an audible collective gasp from the assembled throng, mixed with some loud cheers. That then turned to a loud crescendo of clapping that grew louder and louder as Lyanna walked over and took her place on Michael’s other side. Her gaze caught and held Serena’s, and Serena saw no apprehension, no lack of confidence, only that same steely resolve. Michelle glanced at Serena and saw the exchange of looks they gave each other and thought to herself, “Good”….”I’d hate it if they liked each other!” Michelle then stepped over, whispered something inaudible in Lyanna’s ear and stepped back to the side.
Serena thought to herself, “She’s still the same arrogant snob she was then!” “I beat her ass and she still hasn’t changed!” “That will make it all the better when I ride that putana’s face in front of the crowd!” Serena looked over at Lyanna and whispered,
“Are you ready for the beating and embarrassment of your life, bitch?” she asked with a wry smile
The corners of Lyanna’s pouty mouth turned up a little as she said,
“Question is, are you ready to eat my pussy, whore?” the shapely blonde retorted with an answering wink. “I promise you after I beat you, you’ll just love the taste!”
Serena’s eyes narrowed. “Words…words are cheap…. Cheap like the trashy slut you!” “Let’s see if you have FINALLY learned how to fight and not just talk and whine!” ‘You’ll regret the day you EVER agreed to another fight with me AGAIN!”
Lyanna took a step around Michael, toward Serena. They were perfectly matched in height and the blonde stared into Serena’s eyes, their chests almost touching. You could also see both were obviously aroused too as their nipples were already straining the fabric of their tops. Lyanna spoke again so everyone in the room could hear her words this time, her voice rising with each spoken word,
“Oh, I can fight, and we’ll see who humiliates who, slut. I want this…I deserve this…and I’m going to WALK ALL OVER YOUR BONY ASS to get it!!”
“Ladies…” Michael interrupted the confrontation and stepped between the two ladies. “…as usual, the trash talk is welcomed and encouraged but we all know there’s only one way to settle this…in the arena.” A young woman dressed in a black tee and figure-hugging black pants appeared at Serena’s side, and another at Lyanna’s. “Ladies…it’s that time of the evening!” Please be back here in thirty minutes, ready to fight!” Serena gave her soon-to-be opponent a last look, one that could only be described as,
“You’ll wish you were dead when I’m done!”
She smirked and then turned away. Her resolve and determination to finally destroy Lyanna’s hopes and dreams for revenge and retribution were all she could think of right now. She wanted so much more than to beat Lyanna; she wanted to rob her of her dignity and to take her very soul from her.
Lyanna followed the blonde, black-clothed attendant down a long hallway, past several closed doors to another door at the end of the hallway. Her earlier nervousness and stomach flutters had disappeared as a result of the confrontation with Serena and she welcomed that feeling. Those qualms had vanished and it been replaced by a fierce determination to prove herself and humble this smug, arrogant Italian in front of the assembled crowd. Her heart was pounding and almost up in her throat and her pulse was quickening in anticipation of what was to come
The young woman grabbed the brass knob on the door, twisted it and pushed it open, motioning Lyanna through with a wide arcing swipe of her hand. Lyanna found herself in a spacious bedroom with white walls and black lacquered wood furniture. A broad, full-length window occupied almost the entire far wall, offering a view north to Central Park, but she spent only a moment admiring that view. “Thirty minutes,” the attendant reminded her. “I’ll be back.” She closed the door quietly behind her, Lyanna quietly listening to her heeled footsteps as she walked back down the hall.
Lyanna wasted no time and crossed to the king-sized bed, setting her clutch purse down on the white cover. She sat on the edge and flipped her shoes off into the corner. Reaching up to her waist with both hands she grabbed the bottom of her snug top and peeled it top off over her head, laying it out neatly beside her purse on the bed. The top had its own built-in shelf-bra and she wore nothing underneath. Her full, rounded breasts bounced very slightly under their own weight as they came free of the top. She began bending over at the waist and grabbing the waistband of her pants, began wriggling them down over her hips, and ankles, letting them fall to her feet. She stepped out of them and placed them too on the bed, standing naked and barefoot, her lightly tanned skin feeling the goose bumps begin to appear at the feel of the cool air on her suddenly bare flesh.
She had been well briefed on what to do, and turned to the nearest nightstand upon which stood a small squeeze bottle. It contained a syrupy but unscented body oil and, squeezing a generous amount into her hands, wringing them together a little before she began to apply it smoothly and liberally starting at her neck and continuing all down to the tops of her feet as she bent over, her full breasts dangling seductively from her chest. Finally straightening back up, she looked at herself in the full -length mirror on the left-hand wall as her nude body gleamed in the soft light.
Checking herself carefully in the mirror to ensure that her entire form was evenly covered, she smiled in satisfaction before she turned back to the bed and opened her purse to remove two small folded pieces of black fabric. This was the bikini in which she would fight – or begin to fight, since bikinis typically did not last long in fights like this one. At least that would be the fervent hope of most of the onlookers to the fight.
She picked up the bottoms, bent and stepped into them, pulling them up and seating the thin straps evenly over the curves of her hips. The front was a narrow triangle that hugged the mound of her pubis, tight enough to press slightly into her flesh. It dipped low to expose the hardness of her abs, the straps curving up to sit high over her hips and emphasize the length of her lithesome, toned legs. She turned to one side, and then the other, checking the straps and the narrow band at the rear that dipped between the taut, bare cheeks of her butt. She clenched her muscles a little, smiling broadly as she felt that familiar pull, watching the sudden tightening of her buttocks as the firm muscles flexed, and smiled once more. She had worked hard on her body, and those hours of sweating and suffering in the gym, the pain she had endured working out passionately, combining that with work on the sparring mats, had paid off.
The bikini top came next. She slipped it over her head, made sure the upper strap was tucked beneath her hair, then pulled the form fitting cups tight over the perfectly rounded shape of her bosom before she reached behind her to tie the lower strap securely. Adjusting the cups over her breasts, she again regarded herself in the mirror. Brief as it was, the bikini still cupped and lifted her breasts, which swelled against the thin cloth as she took a deep breath. Her nipples, already half erect in anticipation of the fight, pressed at the fabric and their areolas were perfect circles faintly visible through the top.
Below the top, her belly was firm and flat, the smooth skin showing just a hint of the hard muscles beneath, twin shallow valleys curving down on either side to dip beneath the triangle of her thong. Her hips were gently rounded and her thighs rippled slightly as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, giving herself a final once over. Satisfied, she began her customary warm-up routine, finding calm in the familiar repetitive movements of her stretching, preparing her mind, clearing it and starting to focus her entire being for the ordeal that awaited her.
She was ready and waiting, covered in a black silk robe that covered body and flowed down to just above her knees. It was quiet, so quiet as she thought, tried to focus, calm her nerves. Suddenly the awaited knock sounded on the door. It opened and the same blonde attendant poked her head through, smiling,
“Time to go.”
Lyanna nodded approvingly, without returning the blonde woman’s smile. She stepped past the blonde and began retracing her steps down the hallway toward the main living area. As she emerged from the darkened hallway, she noticed the lights were much brighter now, and the temperature in the room seemed to have increased noticeably, perhaps in deference to her – and Serena’s – minimal attire.
The crowd made a passage for her to the center of the room, where a broad open area about twenty feet square was now cleared of people – a number of the audience now looked down from a second-floor balcony that occupied three sides of the room, watching her closely, admiringly, as she made her way to the edge of the thick black rug that covered the open space or “arena”. She stopped at the edge and stood silently, gazing across the empty arena, waiting for her opponent to appear.
She was not kept waiting for long. The audience suddenly began to almost part like the Red Sea opposite her, and Serena proudly, impassively, stepped into view, also covered in a black robe. Serena gazed at Lyanna with that impassive look and with her dark, resolute narrowed eyes. Lyanna met her gaze and matched the sexy Italian brunette’s smile. Words passed between them that didn’t need to be spoken.
No mercy, no quarter.
Lyanna dropped her arms to her waist and pulled loose the belt that held her robe in place. With a light tug and pull she whipped it open and let it slide down over her right shoulder and down her arm. She let it dangle to the floor a moment, exposing her right shoulder and breast as she glanced in the mirror a moment and smiled. The blonde behind her smiled, tilting her head and looking in the mirror over Lyanna’s shoulder admiringly. She reached out to catch it before it hit the floor but Lyanna said, “Let it go” and the sexy blonde let it hit the floor. Lyanna stood, partially exposed to the crowd – and to her opponent. She looked over then at Serena and smiled, then she reached up with her left hand and pulled the robe over her left shoulder, letting it slide effortlessly down her left arm to the floor. Her bare skin glistened in the bright ring lights, glistening as the light reflected off the coating of oil that clung to her skin. She stepped forward onto the rug, raising her arms, inhaling deeply to swell her chest, flexing her toned sinewy muscles to the appreciative assembled throng. There were approving looks, a steady murmur of conversation and whispers, and a number of people reached for smart phones – the Society allowed its members and guests to wager upon the outcome of these fights and it appeared that the wagering for this contest might break all records. She had heard that the sums were often impressive – or downright scary, depending upon your perspective. The fighters would also get a share of the “gate” and that was done to hopefully add to the motivation of the women involved. In this case, no motivation appeared to be needed.
She turned slowly, stopping a brief instant in each direction, letting the onlookers get a long look at the body she had worked so long and hard to hone. She was ready for this, let there be no doubt, both mentally and physically, and she wanted everyone to see – and to know. As the completed the circle, her eyes fell once more on Serena, who was watching her with a gaze that seemed to narrow by the moment and a subtle smile. Lyanna smiled back and looked at the Italian beauty with defiance and expectation. Some who were present said she looed at Serena with a look of arrogance, an almost dismissive look. This was no doubt a bit of gamesmanship on Lyanna’s part and it appeared to be working as Serena paced nervously, muttering to herself.
Serena’s hands moved to her waist and she tugged on the sash holding her robe closed, pulling the knot free that secured her it. She parted it slowly, at first revealing her ample, sensual cleavage, letting her long slender fingers hold the edges of the robe only so far open as she almost was teasing the crowd. Her hands then slid upward along the edges of the robe, over the perfect form of her firm breasts. As her hands reached the top of the robe she pulled it back off both shoulders, letting it slide down her arms as she extended them behind her, letting it slowly and seductively slide down her arms. Her attendant too caught the robe as it fell, and Serena smiled and stepped out into the arena.
She was dressed in a red bikini that clung tightly to her lean, toned buxom figure. Her arms and shoulders showed the definition so clearly, as a result of her own pre-fight stretching regimen, the flexed muscles gleamed beneath the coating of oil, much like Lyanna’s did. The oil almost seemed to act like a magnifier as the bright overhead lights reflected off their glistening skin. Serena’s breasts strained her tight bikini top, her swollen orbs, the now aroused, rigid nipples poking at the clinging cloth. Her tantalizing, seductive breasts lifted and seemed to almost swell as she raised her arms to acknowledge the approving crowd
Her abs tightened and undulated smoothly as she twisted her torso to one side, then the other, smiling at the audience, before she spun in a circle as she strode further onto the rug, giving them all a good look at her just as Lyanna had done. There were more murmurs, and several other members of the audience began thumbing their phones. Her butt cheeks, revealed by the skimpy cut of her thong as she turned, were taut, rounded and golden tanned even in the middle of winter. Her muscular thighs rippled with each step.
Serena stopped in the middle of the rug, smiled and lifted her arm, beckoning to Lyanna. “Come here, bambina!” she purred. “It’s time for me to teach you a lesson.”
Lyanna smiled faintly but made no reply as she stepped forward to meet her opponent, her hips rolling slightly, breasts bouncing with each step. She halted just a pace away from the Italian. Their eyes locked, each of them tensed like a coiled spring, waiting for the signal for mayhem to commence.
Michael’s voice carried across the room. “Betting is now at a close. Ladies…” He raised his arm, and then let it drop. “You may fight!”
CONTINUED BELOW.
