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Author Topic: Society Reboot - the Contender  (Read 3118 times)
TheScribbler
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« on: August 15, 2016, 09:20:19 PM »

Here's the latest story in the rebooted Society Fight Club series.  This one features FCF members lyannapelon and sherriefights. My thanks to both ladies for lending me their alter egos as characters for the story, and for their input to the writing process.

I'll be posting the story in sections to allow people to post comments and/or to insert themselves into the story as 'audience members'.  Feel free to do either, both, or simply read and enjoy.

Cheers,

Scrib

*****

Lyanna stepped through the wide white wooden doors, each emblazoned in gold with a cursive ‘S’.  She had walked through these doors many times, and those of the penthouse where the Society had held its gatherings before this new custom-built venue had been completed.  Tonight though, it felt different.  Tonight she wasn’t here as a guest, nor in her newly minted role as the manager of the Society’s private gym.  Tonight, after a long hiatus, she was here to fight.  Tonight she was back.

She took a deep breath and her bountiful bosom swelled, straining the already tight-stretched fabric of her clinging bottle-green cocktail dress.  At five feet seven she was one of the taller women in the room, and her four-inch heels made her taller even than some of the men.  She was possessed of a curvaceous figure that made many people underestimate her as a fighter.  They only made that mistake once, however.

Her dress was slit up the left side almost to the waist, exposing a long expanse of shapely thigh with each step she took.  Sleeveless, it matched the color of her eyes and showed off her broad bare shoulders which were barely swept by her gleaming dark red hair.  The neckline plunged low in a deep vee, and a glittering emerald pendant nestled in the valley of her cleavage.  She caught a glimpse of her reflection in one of the many mirrors that lined the walls, and noticed that her nipples were faintly visible, already half erect in anticipation of the conflict to come.

She accepted a drink from a passing waiter – just water with a slice of lemon tonight, at least until after the fight – and picked her way among the partygoers.  Even though it was still early, the room was already crowded.  A few of the guests, both men and women, gave Lyanna an appraising and approving stare.  She smiled back at them and wondered how many of them knew that she was going to be part of the entertainment tonight.  She had told to keep the fact to herself, but she knew how the Society’s gossip machine could be.

Though she knew she was going to fight, she did not yet know who her opponent was going to be.  Like her, her opponent had no doubt been sworn to secrecy.  The match-up would only be revealed just before the fight.  She cast her gaze around the room.  More than a few women met her eyes, their faintly challenging stares telling her nothing.  There was the tall blonde cougar, Tiffany – the last time Lyanna had seen her, she had been tied to the ropes in the gym, being slutted out most diabolically by three other fighters.  Two of three who had abused her were also here tonight, dressed in tight leather pants and flag-printed tank tops in stark contrast to the refined elegance around them.

There were others she recognized too.  At the base of one of the two staircases that led up to the bar stood Mona, another redhead in a tight lavender colored dress which clung to her bosom and clearly showed her pierced nipples.  Mona was an owned girl – though Lyanna did not know who owned her – and a gold collar glittered at her throat.  Owned or not, she was a fierce, nasty bitch in a fight.  She was talking to a busty woman in her mid-thirties – Lyanna remembered her as Lucy or something like that.  She had fought here a few months ago in a wild encounter.

Mona and Lucy were talking to an Asian woman with very long hair that had been dyed blonde, and a strikingly prolific bosom that was emphasized even more by her slender figure and clinging white dress.  Lyanna had seen her before at one or two of the Society’s parties but she did not frequent the Society gym so Lyanna didn’t know her name.  She caught Lyanna’s gaze now though and her almond eyes narrowed slightly with thinly veiled hostility.  Is she the one?

Lyanna decided she didn’t care.  She would deal with it, and her opponent, when the time came.  In any case, she reminded herself, this fight was merely a stepping stone.  She had her eye on the real prize.  She turned her head to gaze over at the low white leather couch that sat front and center, facing the clear circular space in the middle of the room, embraced by the two staircases.  The center seat of that couch was not white but bright red leather.  That was the symbolic seat of the Society’s champion.

The woman she most wanted to fight – the one she most wanted to defeat and destroy, was the woman who currently had the privilege to sit in that seat, and Lyanna wanted more than anything else take her place.  Whatever she had to do, whoever she had to go through – or step over after she destroyed them – she would do it.  She was determined to win tonight, to show them she was worthy of a shot at the title.

It was about more than just the championship however, though that accolade was a big part of her desire.  It was also about taking down the bitch who currently held the title.  Tiffany had been sitting in that chair for far too long in Lyanna’s opinion, and she only remained there by luck and guile.  Lyanna had seen her lose to Valeria, the blonde Latina who had humiliated her in Miami, but that had been a non-title, exhibition fight.  Valeria and Lyanna and subsequently become lovers and Lyanna’s fists clenched now as she remembered what had happened in the title fight here in New York, where Tiffany had not only pulled off a win – a lucky win in Lyanna’s eyes.  At the end of that fight, Tiffany had taken a particularly lengthy and degrading vengeance on her opponent, and Lyanna had been forced to stand there and watch, trembling with helpless fury. 

Ever since that time, Lyanna had wanted her own revenge on Tiffany.  She wanted not just to beat the bitch but to destroy her – to take not just her title but her dignity, her pride, her dreams.  She wanted to crush the cxnt, but Tiffany had avoided her, always managing to be out of town or otherwise engaged whenever Lyanna had the opportunity to challenge her. 

She wouldn’t be able to run forever though.  Now that Lyanna had taken the gym manager’s job, she was a fixture around the Society.  Tiffany had allies among the Society’s managing committee but after her last fight and the dubious circumstances of her win, her support was waning.  Soon, bitch.

*****

Sherrie stood sipping a glass of cranberry juice, her attention divided between the assembled throng of party guests and the magnificent view from the two-storey windows that formed one entire wall of the room, looking out over New York’s inner harbor to the Statue of Liberty.  She smiled to herself.  The crowd wouldn’t give a damn about the view later, when she was making an example of the poor bitch she was going to fight tonight.  She didn’t know who it was yet, but it didn’t matter.  She relished the thought of putting any of these skanks in their place – and their place was on their backs in the middle of the arena, destroyed, with Sherrie sitting on their faces.

This wouldn’t be her first fight in the Society – she already had a two-to-nothing win record here, though that was before the Society had moved to the new location downtown.  She didn’t just fight here however, and she had an impressive record out on the west coast too.  She hadn’t won every fight but then again, nobody did.  The risk of defeat, and of the humiliation that went along with it, was part of the thrill for her. 

Tonight though, she was going to win, and that win would open doors for her.  It would be her third.  Third time’s the charm. After this one, she would be recognized by everyone as a solid contender for the championship.  She could push for – and get – a title shot.  That had even been hinted at, when they had told her about tonight’s fight.

Sherrie could feel there was a change coming in the Society.  The last gathering had featured a fight between the Society’s champion, a busty brunette named Tiffany, and a visiting fighter from New Orleans.  Tiffany had won that fight though barely.  Everyone had thought the southerner – Penny something – had her beaten, until Tiffany had pulled off a surprise move and turned the tables.  The gossip among the Society’s members since however, and even the whispered comments here tonight, held that it had been a dirty trick.  There were few firm rules in Society fights so it didn’t really count as cheating but nevertheless, Tiffany was not popular right now.  The champion was ripe to be challenged, defeated and deposed.  Sherrie was going to be the girl who brought down the queen.

She was dressed in silver tonight, a long evening gown that shimmered whenever she moved.  She liked metallic colors, which beautifully complemented her flowing golden hair and deeply bronzed skin.  The fabric clung to every curve of her superbly sculpted body, showing off her narrow hips, tight butt and six-pack abs.  Sleeveless and backless with slender spaghetti straps forming a halter behind her neck, it plunged low at the front and revealed much of the proud, rounded swell of her firm breasts.  Sherrie competed regularly in body sculpting competitions and though she was in her late thirties, she was more than a match for any of the twenty-somethings, both on the stage and in the arena.  She loved the thrill of victory and even more, she loved breaking arrogant bitches and reducing them to a sobbing, quivering mess at her feet.

Her azure blue eyes scanned the crowd, wondering who she would be facing across the arena, a short time from now.  She saw one or two familiar faces.  There was a blonde named Jane, whom Sherrie had watched gain her place in the Society some months ago.  She was talking with Sunny, another left-coaster who competed on the body sculpting circuit and with whom Sherrie had butted heads – and other body parts – in the past.

On the far side of the room were two other faces Sherrie recognized.  Everyone knew Eva and Carmen who competed in the underground pro-wrestling leagues as Caliente e Loca.  Like them or hate them, there was no ignoring them.  Jane in particular was doing her best however.  Rumor had it that the two Latinas had publicly embarrassed her in the Society gym lately, along with her friend Tiffany, who was conspicuous – and at five feet nine, not counting her heels, it was difficult for her not to be – at the foot of one of the two staircases.

They were not the only fighters here in the room.  There were at least a dozen more that Sherrie recognized, if not by name then simply by the way they carried themselves.  All of the women in the room – and the men for that matter – no matter what their age or standing, took pride in their appearance, but the fighters stood and moved in a particular way, like predatory cats on the prowl, that make them unmistakable.  Which one of them is going to be my victim tonight?

*****

Tiffany accepted a drink – her favorite, Grey Goose and cranberry juice - from the black-clothed waitress, and slipped an arm around her lover Sara as they stood at the railing on the second-floor mezzanine that overlooked the Society’s home.  This was her domain.  Of all the fierce fighters in the Society, she stood at the pinnacle.  She held the title of Society champion, as she had for years, and she had no intention of relinquishing it to any of these wannabe bitches. 

She had lost a fight here and there but never when it mattered, and those who had had their brief moment in the sun at her expense had paid the price for crossing her.  She still owed one skank – that cxnt Tara – for what had happened in Rhode Island back on New Years Eve.  Tara had since vanished, but Tiffany would track her down some time, and exact a cruel revenge.

Tonight she was dressed in her usual red -  a sleeveless one-shoulder dress that left her midriff bare and was slit high up the right side.  She wore her hair loose – when she was fighting she typically wound it up into a tight bun – and the fluffy chestnut cloud tresses tumbled over her bare, tanned shoulders.  A gold charm gleamed in her navel – the Society sigil, the same cursive ‘S’ on a round gold shield that adorned the doors of the club.

She smiled at Sara, enjoying the sight of her lover.  The scrumptious blonde was roughly Tiffany’s own height and build. She wore a little black dress that barely reached to the tops of her thighs, showing off the length of her svelte legs.  The dress clung to her slender, buxom figure from her neck to the gentle curves of her hips and plunged low at the front to reveal a generous amount of décolletage.  She wasn’t quite as well-endowed as Tiffany herself, but it was a close thing.

Sara was a fighter too, though she had not fought in the Society – not yet, anyway.  Tiffany planned to get her an audition fight soon, but she didn’t want to rush things.  She would bide her time until Sara herself thought she was ready.  Tonight would be her first glimpse of the Society.

The blonde gazed out over the crowd.  “I can’t believe I’m here,” she breathed.  “I mean, look at who’s here!” She rattled off the names of a number of A-list celebrities who were conspicuous in the crowd.

Tiffany grinned and squeezed Sara’s waist a little tighter.  “Believe it, Babes.” She knew that the recognizable faces here weren’t even the true power in this room.  Most of the really rich and powerful did not grace the tabloids or the social media.  They might appear on the occasional society page but mostly they enjoyed their anonymity.  “This is the big time.”

“I can’t wait to see the fight!” exclaimed Sara.  By her own admission, she loved watching two women fight, almost as much as she enjoyed participating.  Sara was a self-confessed catfight voyeur.  Even now, Tiffany noticed her hard nipples pressing at the thin fabric of her dress.

“Do you know who’s going to be fighting?” Sara went on.

Tiffany’s smile faded a little.  She didn’t know who was going to be fighting tonight.  As the champion, as part of the inner circle, she should have known but the committee had not bothered to tell her.  That annoyed her.  It was disrespectful.

She knew why, of course, and that only made her angrier.  She’d heard the rumors, the whispers, the innuendo about her last win.  They thought she’d cheated.  They thought she’d deliberately thrown that stupid skank Penny off the balcony, almost at this exact spot.  That simply wasn’t true.  It had been a tragic accident, an awful mistake.  She had dashed down the stairs, at first to Penny’s aid, horrified that she might be seriously injured or even worse.  But when she had seen Penny stir, seen her move, known that she was still in the fight, she had changed her mind.  I’d have been damn stupid not to take advantage of the opportunity.  That hadn’t stopped the gossips though.

Fuck them. She’d be damned if she was going to justify herself to them – to anyone.  If people didn’t already believe her, then nothing she could say was going to persuade them.  She’d show them anyway.  Her next fight would leave nobody in any doubt that she was – and would always be – the Queen of the Society.

TO BE CONTINUED...
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Vanessa Marsh
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« Reply #1 on: August 16, 2016, 03:41:41 AM »

Slipping silently into the penthouse, relieved to see the bulk of the attention directed towards the main room, and the prospect of eminent conflict. I'm jet lagged as shit, and in my black tank and sweats I hardly make the kind of appearance that wins laurels around this type of crowd. Slinking away from the sounds of society types, gingerly making my way towards the more private rooms to the rear of the unit. Exhausted and stiff, with bags under my eyes and a less than charming bruise covering most of my right side, which is in the process of turning a rather garish shade of yellow, all I can think about is a glass of wine and a hot bath.

End of the hall, the door on the right. Just the thought of an ocean of soothing suds putting a bit more life in my step. Reaching for the knob when I feel a hand clasp my shoulder. Instinctively I ball my fists, but a familiar voice disarms me. ''6 months away, and not even a hello?''

''JEN!'' Exhaling loudly, I spin to face one of the Society's longest tenured employees. A rather diminutive redhead, with a pleasing smile and a razor wit, she's been an institution since my first visit. The Society patrons are a tough crowd, and for an honest working woman to have retained her position for so many years speaks as much to her skill and efficiency as to her obvious physical charms. ''So, you DO remember me. And here I thought I wasted good money this welcome home gift.'' Holding up a Bordeaux that goes for about as much as the rent on my place, she lowers her voice. ''A favorite of one of the regulars. At least he was, until he got indicted a few months back. Who says the rich don't do anything for us blue collar girls?'' Flashing that winning smile, she nods past me. ''I've got about 30 minutes, are you going to invite me in, or not?''



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BustyTiffany35
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« Reply #2 on: August 16, 2016, 03:30:30 PM »

Have to keep up appearances..

I shouldn't have come tonight, should have kept a low-profile for a lil' while and let the story of my humiliating night calm down a bit. However, I couldn't just sit by on the sidelines and show everyone that what Eva and her friends had done to me had gotten to me. But the second I showed up in my pink backless tube dress and heels, I just wanted to turn around and never come back.

Calm yourself, gal.. ya have to keep up appearances..

I told myself this as I weaved through the crowd, trying my best to ignore the judging stares and taunting smirks that I attracted, as well as the hushed "Slut" every other gal would hiss at me as they brushed by. By now, word had spread like wildfire of what went down in the Society's private gym, and most everyone knew of what I had suffered. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if most everyone here tonight were at that gym, either witnessing or participating.. Besides Eva, Misty and Carmen, I couldn't tell who else had their way with me. I was taken off the ring ropes but still kept tied and bound in the jump ropes, and was promptly blindfolded with a leopard-print scarf. I couldn't even tell who was taking advantage of me..sometimes, I was passed around from one gal to the next..other times up to four gals would converge on me..their hands were everywhere, groping and fondling, smacking me, pinching and grabbing every inch of my busty, bound, helpless body..my hair was constantly pulled, my mouth was put to use, I was forced to service, forced to climax..over and over.. kissed, licked, bitten, held down, bent over, ravaged, used and humiliated, while they all laughed, and moaned, and taunted, well into the early morning..

I shuddered at the memories, they were still fresh in my mind. The glares and smirks I was receiving from all these gals made me wonder, was she there, taking me, ravishing me, telling me what a big old slut I am as I spasmed and writhed beneath her on the mat. And then, I ran into them. Eva and Carmen. My blood boiled almost immediately and it took every bit of my will-power to NOT smack em' both.. as usual, they started up, teasing and taunting me as they usually do. But, unlike our many, many previous encounters in a setting like this, this time, I had no snappy comebacks, no quick insults to fire back at em'. I, I just couldn't come up with anything to say. I just kept getting these flashes of that night, of being tied up and at their mercy. They owned me that night.. and now, I stood before em', speechless, blushing, and glaring as they laughed and taunted me.

I couldn't take their abuse any longer, and moved forward to slap Eva in her pretty face. However, several gals who were watching quickly stepped in and grabbed me. They restrained me, taking hold of my arms and waist, quietly warning that I not make a scene. My two Latina rivals continued laughing and mocking me, but they moved into the crowd and disappeared. I could still hear Eva's laughter and I fumed. One of the gals holding me suggested they take me to the washroom so I could cool down, but I was already calming myself. At that moment, my eyes caught sight of Lyanna, and I briefly remembered she was the one fighting tonight after a long hiatus. I also remembered seeing her at the gym, she was there, watching as I was taken advantage of. I narrowed my eyes at her as she disappeared into the crowd..
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Vanessa Marsh
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« Reply #3 on: August 17, 2016, 01:01:16 AM »

''So, how was Taipei?'' The question is posed so casually that it takes a moment to register. The burden of a 20+ hour flight, combined with the wine, and a steaming bath serving to dull my senses. ''How did you knoe about that?'' my eyes fluttering back open as I lean forward in the tub. My guest as inscrutable as the damned Sphinx, with that same sly smile on her lovely face. ''I didn't tell anyone here where I was headed. Don't tell me you've been talking to my mother?''

''I haven't, but the answer IS family related. Jen pulls out her phone, and spins it to face me. ''My brother is nuts for all kinds of combat sports, but ESPECIALLY the female variety. He's heard rumors of this place, I think if he knew what his big sister actually did for a leaving he'd faint! Anyway, a month or so ago he was showing me some of he's newest DVDs, and who pops up, covered in fucking blood, with an arena full of rabid fans chanting her name? my dear friend 'Nessa! Who split all those months back, without even saying goodbye!

''That was a hell of a feeling.'' I confess with a small grin, even as my left hand brushes the scar just beyond my hairline. ''I felt the effects of that fight for a few weeks, but the memory won't ever fade. They love their wàiguórén  fighters over there, and the money is borderline obscene, but the fighting makes the stuff we have stateside look like jello wrestling in some titty bar. My last bout was a week ago, and it still feels like the night of.'' ''I can imagine. I saw the bruise when you were getting in the tub. Jen's cheeks flush slightly as I raise an eyebrow. ''Hey, i'm only human! So anyway, shall I get you up to speed on all the doings back home you missed, whilst you were brawling in the orient? ''In a minute,'' I nod, extending my arm leisurely, ''but first just pour.''
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TheScribbler
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« Reply #4 on: August 17, 2016, 01:56:14 AM »

Some time later, Lyanna was chatting amiably with a middle aged couple, a stage actor and his corporate lawyer girlfriend, when their conversation was interrupted by a loud ringing that brought a hush over the room.  All heads turned expectantly to the source of the sound – a wine glass being tapped firmly with the edge of a spoon.  It always surprised Lyanna that such a small thing could make such a loud noise.  She wondered if it was some kind of special glass.

“Ladies and gentlemen...your attention please!” The speaker was a man in his fifties, balding with wire-rimmed glasses.  He looked slightly out of place among the elegantly dressed party guests, in blue jeans, a loafers and an open necked white shirt under a tweed jacket.  He belonged here no less than they did however.  His name was Andrew Scribbs.  He was the Society’s business manager and, in Lyanna’s role as gym manager, her boss too.

“It’s time to commence the evening’s entertainment,” he announced, adding somewhat unnecessarily, “Tonight we have two strong and lovely contenders to do battle for your enjoyment.” 

He looked in Lyanna’s direction and met her return gaze.  “The first will be familiar to all of you.   She’s fought numerous times here in the Society and has an impressive record of wins.  From Florida, put your hands together for Lyanna.”

There was widespread applause as Lyanna strode, smiling, toward the windows where Scribbs stood.  She walked with her head up, shoulders back, her chest thrust out.  Her hips undulated and her skirt swirled around her long, powerful legs with each step.  She radiated strength, power and confidence.  The entertainment – and the battle – started well before the actual fight commenced.  She took her place at Scribbs’ elbow and turned to face the audience.

“Facing Lyanna tonight is a relative newcomer to the Society, though she’s certainly proved her worth both here and elsewhere,” continued Scribbs.  “From the west coast, please welcome Sherrie.”

Amid matching applause from the audience, Lyanna followed his eyes to where a slender blonde picked her way through the crowd toward them.  She was sheathed – that was definitely the word – in a figure-hugging silver dress that left little to the imagination.  It clung to her well-rounded bust – store-bought, thought Lyanna with an inward sneer – her slim waist and narrow hips, swishing around her long legs as she walked.  Lyanna put her in her mid- or maybe even late thirties, easily ten years older than Lyanna.  She wasn’t stupid enough to think that meant an easy win however.  The woman was obviously in superb shape and though she might be shorter and more slightly built, her body was all muscle.  She would be no pushover.

She wasn’t going to let the woman know that, however.  As Sherrie approached, Lyanna gave her a disdainful look up and down.  “Forget to get dressed this morning and came in your nightgown, did you?”

Sherrie didn’t blink.  She gave Lyanna an equally scornful look, taking in Lyanna’s larger physique and more curvaceous figure.  “Forget to hit the gym for the last couple years, did you?”

Lyanna bristled.  “You’ll find out just what this body can do, bitch, and find out hard!” she snapped back, fists clenched.  “I’ll break you in half, you scrawny skank!”

Sherrie’s smile was fixed and icy.  “I’ll just break you.” Her eyes narrowed to mere slits. “The bigger they come, the harder they fall…and the more they beg when they’re down.”

Lyanna growled and took a step forward, but Scribbs interrupted.  “Ladies, I’m sure we’d all love to hear you threaten one another some more, but there’s a better way to settle this argument, don’t you think?”  He looked at each of them and smiled.  “Let’s do this the traditional way.  One of you will be able to back up her words…the other won’t.  To your dressing rooms.”

They each turned away, reluctantly, from one another. A petite brunette in black pants and a tee, one of the Society staff, appeared at Lyanna’s side.  She took a deep breath to calm herself, and felt her hard nipples rasp against the inside of her dress.  It would have given her great pleasure to slap the blond bitch right out her heels, there and then, but her chance would come soon enough.

She followed the attendant down a narrow space around the outside of one of the curving staircases, and through a door that led to a maze of passageways beneath the balcony and the bar.  After a bewildering series of turns, the girl opened a door and beckoned Lyanna into the room beyond.

The dressing room was compact, though larger than Lyanna imagined.  A low leather couch occupied one wall, a dresser and stool, with a mirror lined with lights, sat against the other.  There was a small closet in the opposite corner.  Two doors, apart from the one by which she had entered, led out of the room.  One stood open, revealing a well-appointed bathroom with a large shower and whirlpool tub.  The other, with a light above it, was closed.  That, Lyanna knew, was the gateway to the arena.

The door closed behind the attendant, leaving her alone.  She immediately dropped her small clutch purse on the couch, crossed to the closet and kicked off her shoes, hooking each of them with her toes and placing them neatly side by side.  She lifted her arms, unfastened the clasp of her dress behind her neck and pulled it down, letting her big round breasts bounce free.  She wriggled it down over her hips, down her legs, stepped out of it and hung it in the closet.

On the dresser stood a small stoppered glass bottle filled with amber oil.  She opened it, tipped a generous amount into her cupped hand and, standing in front of the full length mirror beside the closet, began applying it liberally over her entire body from neck to toe.  The oil made her tanned flesh glisten in the light, and it would also make it harder for her opponent to get a firm grip on her.  No sense making it easy for the bitch.  She stepped into the bathroom and rinsed the excess oil from her hands.  There was no use making it more difficult for herself to get a grip on the blonde either, though Sherrie would no doubt be equally oiled up.

Turning back to the couch, she opened her purse and pulled out a neatly folded wad of fabric.  She already wore the bottom half of her bikini, a diminutive thong divided vertically in equal halves of red and black, the seam running down the cleft of her sex, giving her a distinctive camel toe.

She shook the top out and slipped the upper strap over her head, settling it at the back of her neck, lifting her hair out over it.  The top matched the thong, the left side a vivid scarlet and the right a matt black.  She stretched the cups tight over her generous bosom and reached behind her to tie the lower strap securely, before she adjusted the twin triangles to center them over her nipples.  The cups cradled her breasts, pushing them up and together, deepening her cleavage.  Narrow straps on each side ran from the top of each triangle to the bottom of its twin, helping to secure them in place and further pulling her breasts against one another.

Back in front of the mirror, she gave herself a critical appraisal.  At five-feet seven and just short of one hundred thirty pounds, she was in top condition.  She knew her big bust and rounded hips made some people underestimate her as a fighter, but those who had seen her fight, and particularly those who had gone up against her, knew that was a dangerous assumption to make. 

Lifting her arms, she placed them behind her head, arched her back and turned from side to side.  Muscles rippled beneath the smooth velvet skin of her arms and shoulders.  Her pose lifted her breasts, thrusting them out, her nipples even more evident now through the thin fabric of her bikini top, which clung to her like a second skin.  Her belly was smooth and flat, her abs faintly yet clearly defined.  She was no body-builder, but she didn’t want to be.  She was quietly confident she could match any woman in the Society for core strength.

She raised herself up on her toes, thigh muscles bunching and flexing, her glutes tightening, the firm round orbs of her buttocks gleaming as she twisted left and right, bisected by the narrow band of her thong.  You’ll be getting a closeup view of my buns soon, skank.  She flexed her thighs a little harder, making her butt cheeks twitch together, and smiled softly as the she turned away from the mirror and went into her warm-up regime.

Maybe ten minutes later, she was ready and waiting, her oiled, bikini-clad and now well prepared body covered in a short black silk robe that fell to mid-thigh and bore the Society sigil in gold on the back.  She had just finished fastening the robe loosely but securely with a matching sash, when a gentle chime sounded in the room.  She looked over at the closed door.  A red light glowed above it now.

She walked over to the door, opened it and stepped into the small vestibule beyond, which was about the size of an old-style phone booth.  She closed the door behind her and took a deep breath in the darkness, steadying herself as the butterflies churned in her stomach.  She would defeat this bitch – she was determined to – but that didn’t mean it was going to be easy, and it didn’t mean the pre-fight anxiety was any less.

The door on the opposite side slid open, flooding the vestibule with light.  Lyanna stepped forward, out onto the thick black rug – out into the arena.  It may have been just her imagination after the darkness, but it seemed that the lights over the arena were much brighter now, and those in the surrounding room were dimmer.  The temperature also seemed warmer, but that too may simply have been the rush of blood through her veins as her body readied itself for the combat to come.  She flexed her hands involuntarily, clenching and relaxing in anticipation.

Another door opposite her had also opened.  Sherrie appeared, dressed identically to Lyanna.  Her hair was pulled back off her face in a tight ponytail.  They stood there for a moment, facing off, their eyes boring into one another, before Lyanna’s hands went to her waist, tugging the sash open, whipping the robe backwards off her shoulders, leaving it behind her hanging in the air for an instant as she took another step forward.

She raised herself up on the ball of one foot and twirled as she stepped out into the arena, lifting her arms, smiling at the watching crowd, letting them all look at her, letting them enjoy her.  Her smile wavered a little as her gaze passed across the open front of the arena, where she noticed the Society champion sitting in the place of honor, her hand on the knee of some blonde that Lyanna had not seen before.  Good grief, another girlfriend, Tiffany?  Can’t you hang onto one for longer than five minutes?

That thought was not what made her face darken however.  What galled her was that Tiffany was still sitting in that seat at all.  That was where Lyanna wanted to be – where she deserved to be, and where she soon would be.  You can’t run from me forever, bitch.

She completed her circle, displaying herself to the adulation and lascivious looks of the crowd s they drank in her firm flesh, her proud breasts, her taut butt, her strong yet feminine legs.  She could feel them wanting her and she reveled in it.  Let them lust for her.  She would be able to choose any one – or more – of them after she’d disposed of this bimbo.  Perhaps she would, or maybe she would spurn them all.  She smiled.

Her eyes came to rest on Sherrie, still standing motionless, her eyes riveted on Lyanna, her face impassive.  The redhead raised a mocking eyebrow.  Your turn, Barbie.

As if on cue, Sherrie slipped her robe open, tossed it carelessly back into the doorway behind her and strode forward into the light.  She too lifted her arms and tossed her head, sending the golden mane of her hair swishing across her broad shoulders as she walked.  She wore a silver lame bikini, the top composed of two tiny triangles that barely covered the jutting excrescences of her erect nipples, held in place by gossamer thin straps.  The bottom was an equally miniscule thong that seemed painted onto her mound, the straps riding high over her slender hips, meeting above the orbs of her buttocks and disappearing between them.

Her skin was an equally deep bronze all over.  The muscles of her arms, shoulders and upper body were superbly sculpted.  Her breasts strained hard against the tiny top as she showed off her body to the onlookers.  Her abs were a perfect six-pack yet she sacrificed none of her femininity for that.  Her butt cheeks looked like they had been carved from stone, and the smooth skin of her oiled thighs undulated with the sensuous musculature beneath.

Sherrie was shorter than Lyanna by perhaps two or three inches and more slightly built, though it was clear that her body was all muscle.  Lyanna doubted if there was more than a couple pounds difference in weight between them.

There were murmurs from the crowd, whispered expressions of admiration as Sherrie too completed her circle and stood regarding Lyanna levelly.  She cocked her head and also raised an eyebrow – mocking Lyanna mocking her.  Lyanna’s shoulders tightened.

She spared a glance sideways toward Tiffany and her new paramour.  The Society champion sat with her eyes devouring Sherrie’s body, a sly smile on her lips.  After a long moment she turned her eyes to Lyanna, and her smile broadened.  Her meaning was obvious.  She thought Lyanna was in a whole lot of trouble.  Bitch.  Just you wait and see.

Her companion’s gaze was also locked on Lyanna, but her expression was entirely different from Tiffany’s.  Their eyes met.  The girl smiled and actually wriggled in her seat, arching her back a little and pushing her quite substantial chest out.  Lyanna smiled slightly at the corners of her mouth.  The bitch’s bitch wants me. She mentally filed that little fact away for later, when it might come in useful.  Right now, she had other, more pressing priorities.

She pointed to the doorway behind Sherrie.  “Still time to run back to your box, bitch!”

The blonde’s lip curled in a sneer.  “Not until I drag you back in there with me, honey” The mocking endearment dripped with scorn.

Scribbs had already stepped up to the edge of the arena.  “Let’s not prolong the wait any longer, shall we?” he said with a smile.  “Ladies…FIGHT!”

TO BE CONTINUED...
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« Reply #5 on: August 18, 2016, 12:29:53 AM »

Sherrie went on the offensive immediately and hurled herself across the space that separated her from Lyanna, as her bigger opponent did the same.  The initial exultant roar from the audience went silent as the two fighters closed with one another in moments.  Sherrie threw an arm out, braced for an arm-bar to stop her opponent’s rush dead in its tracks and hopefully even to take Lyanna down to the floor right at the start of the fight.

To her surprise, the redhead ducked under her outstretched arm with lightning speed, whirled and came up behind Sherrie.  The blonde screamed in frustration and sudden pain as Lyanna’s hand seized her flying hair and yanked hard, snapping her head back and almost jerking her off her feet.

Instinctively she reached up with her other hand to grab at Lyanna’s wrist and ease the strain on her scalp.  That played right into Lyanna’s hands however, as she grabbed Sherrie’s arm with her own free hand, reversed direction and slammed herself into Sherrie’s back.  Before she knew it, Sherrie found herself steamrolled forward, trying hard to brace herself well enough to resist Lyanna’s rush.

She did her best to dig her heels in but without success, and suddenly the mirrored wall that enclosed the arena was far too close for comfort.  “MMMPPPHHH!!!” The breath rushed out of her as she slammed into it with full force, flattening her chest against the unyielding glass.  She managed to turn her head to avoid crashing her face into the wall, but then Lyanna’s full weight drove into her back and she let out another loud “NNNGGGUH!”

Lyanna hauled her off the wall with a growl, spun her around and barreled her back across the arena at a run, obviously aiming to repeat her maneuver on the opposite wall.  Sherrie’s feet scrabbled for purchase on the thick rug, at a loss to counteract her opponent’s momentum.  She looked fearfully at the her own rapidly approaching reflection in the mirror, at the redhead’s fiercely intent expression glaring over her shoulder.

When she was no more than two or three paces from the wall she changed tactics, twisting her body left, throwing an arm backwards over Lyanna’s shoulder to grab the redhead around the neck.  With a grunt of exertion, using that hold as a fulcrum, she threw her legs upward, outstretched.  Instead of her full body crashing into the wall this time, her feet took the impact and brought Lyanna’s rush to an abrupt halt.

Now it was Lyanna’s turn to cry out in shock as the force of her own charge took her feet out from under her.  Both fighters crashed heavily to the floor with Sherrie on top.  Lyanna groaned in pain as she landed hard on her back and Sherrie’s sharp elbow drove deep into her right breast, crushing it cruelly against her ribs.

Sherrie rolled away and came up to her knees while the bigger woman was still bringing herself up onto one elbow.  The big bitch had power but so did Sherrie, and Sherrie had speed too.  She would use that to her advantage, keep her opponent on the back foot, wear her down and defeat her.  She flung herself on Lyanna.

Again with a speed that surprised Sherrie, Lyanna got her arms up to slam her open palms into Sherrie’s shoulders and ward off the body splash.  More than that, she brought her knees up to her chest and lashed out with both feet, catching Sherrie hard into the pit of her stomach.  Before the blonde could even gasp in pain, Lyanna shoved even harder, flipping Sherrie up over her to crash down on her back on the rug with a force that knocked the remaining breath out of her.

She rolled immediately to her right.  This bitch was wickedly fast and she knew she couldn’t take the time even to draw a breath.  That prediction turned out to be correct as Lyanna slammed down to the rug where Sherrie had lain an instant earlier, missing the blonde by inches, catching herself on both arms to break her fall.

Sherrie twisted onto her right side and whipped her legs around, opening them wide and then bringing them together again.  She scissored her ankles together either side of Lyanna’s neck, jerking her body out straight in an attempt to slam the top of her opponent’s head down into the floor.  To her dismay however, Lyanna’s braced arms held and though she cried out from the brutal wrenching on her neck, she remained firmly on all fours.

It immediately got worse however as Lyanna, with a guttural groan of effort, forced herself up onto her knees, lifting Sherrie’s legs along with her.  Sherrie twisted her body hard trying to unbalance her opponent but the bigger woman spread her knees for stability and continued to rise, dragging Sherrie up until only the blonde’s right shoulder remained on the floor. 

Lyanna turned toward her, her face set in grim determination, twisting Sherrie half over onto her belly.  “No...you don’t…bitch,” she hissed through clenched teeth, as she drew her right arm back and slammed her clenched fist into Sherrie’s lower belly.

Sherrie’s abs were her best feature.  She had worked long and hard to hone her core muscles to the peak of fitness.  They were iron hard.  Nevertheless, she grunted sharply as Lyanna’s knuckles pounded her flesh between her navel and the top of her tiny thong.  She clenched her muscles even tighter against the second blow that caught her just below the navel, clenching her teeth to stifle a groan of pain.  The cxnt hits like a hammer.

Reluctantly – she knew the head scissors would weaken Lyanna soon but probably not soon enough – Sherrie made a snap decision and released her ankles, shoving with her foot against Lyanna’s shoulder to push the redhead back and boost herself away.  She went over onto her back and rolled onto her side, keeping her eyes on her opponent.

Lyanna toppled backwards under the pressure of Sherrie’s foot but threw an arm out to brace herself.  She leapt to her feet, her face red, eyes flashing, and came at Sherrie fast with one raised to stomp the blonde’s belly.  Sherrie threw herself sideways and swept her legs around in a rapid arc.  Her shin connected with Lyanna’s leg just above the ankle, sweeping her foot out from under her.  Lyanna went down hard on her side with the grunt.

Sherrie rolled clear and came to her feet, breathing hard, instinctively holding a protective hand across her aching belly. Lyanna’s blow had not damaged her – much – but she would not have been able to withstand too many more of them had she tried to maintain the head scissors.  She took a deep breath.  Her bikini top had come adrift and her breasts hung free, rising and falling with each rapid breath she took, their hard peaks flushed a darker shade of bronze than the surrounding flesh.

Lyanna too reached her feet and tossed her head to flip her hair out of her eyes.  She too was breathing heavily.  The cup that cradled her right breast had slipped aside exposing the dark turgid nipple on that side, though the top was held in place by the slender strap that still stretched across her chest.  She glanced down now at her chest, made a face and raised her hand to adjust her top and cover herself.

Bad move, bitch! Sherrie saw her opportunity and pounced, but immediately discovered her mistake.  It was only a ruse on the redhead’s part and Lyanna ducked low and charged Sherrie just as the blonde was about to do the same.

This time Sherrie reacted faster however, swaying sideways and avoiding the shoulder that Lyanna aimed at her right breast.  She flung an arm up and slammed the point of her elbow into the redhead’s temple as Lyanna flew past her, gaining another sharp grunt of mingled pain and rage from her adversary. 

Lyanna stumbled away off balance but recovered quickly and spun to face Sherrie.  Her lip drew back in a snarl.  She was angry now.  Good.  An angry fighter Is a careless fighter. “What’s the matter, skank?” she goaded the redhead.  “Can’t take the heat?  Maybe you should have stayed back down south, in the minor leagues where you belong!”

“We’ll see where you belong, bitch!’ Lyanna threw herself at Sherrie and the blonde did likewise.  This time there were no tricks or finesse, only the desire to slam their bodies together in a fierce test of strength and will – and so they did.  The slap of flesh on flesh echoed around the room, bringing a murmur of appreciation from the audience.  Sherrie thrust forward with the corded muscles of her powerful thighs, shoving her chest into Lyanna’s flattening her breasts against the redhead’s.  She pushed them upward under Lyanna’s bosom in an endeavor to use her shorter stance to her advantage and unbalance her bigger opponent.  She felt Lyanna’s hard nipples jabbing into her breasts, as her own scored Lyanna’s sweat-slick skin.

For almost a full minute they strained against one another, chests heaving, legs trembling with extreme exertion, arms wrapped tight against one another, each clawing for purchase against the other’s back or butt.  There was utter silence throughout the expansive room except for their breathless curses and groans.

Sherrie felt herself inch Lyanna backward an inch or two, only for the redhead to recover.  She drew new confidence from the knowledge that she had the measure of her opponent however and with an exultant roar she heaved with all her might, channeling her adrenalin into a savage thrust to throw her adversary backwards.  To her surprise however, Lyanna did precisely the same thing at the same exact moment and both women stumbled backward a step, panting.

Sensing she had an advantage, however fleeting, Sherrie leapt forward again, arms out, fingers hooked into claws.  Lyanna flung her own arms up but Sherrie’s talons blasted past the redhead’s defenses.  She grabbed Lyanna by the right breast with one hand.  The other, intended for the redhead’s left breast, missed its mark and instead her fingers hooked in the strap of Lyanna’s bikini top between her breasts. 

Sherrie did not care.  She had a good grip on her opponent and used it to swing the screaming redhead around in a half circle and fling her away.  She did not care either that Lyanna had gotten a grip on Sherrie’s bikini top too, and tore it loose as she stumbled backwards.  What she did care about, and relished, was the howl of anguished outrage as her nails raked her adversary’s bosom leaving angry welts on the soft flesh.  She smiled as she stood clutching Lyanna’s bikini top, ripped from the redhead’s body.  “That’s just the beginning, bitch!”

Lyanna again recovered her balance quickly and came back at Sherrie.  “You’re right about that, you bimbo cxnt!” she hissed.  She threw a wild left-handed slap at Sherrie’s face.  Sherrie ducked and blocked the blow with her own out-thrust arm but realized too late that that was exactly what Lyanna intended.  She whipped her arm down underneath Sherrie’s own, locking it into an arm bar and using her greater height to heave Sherrie up onto her toes.  “Now it’s your turn!” Her clawed fingers slammed into Sherrie’s midriff, nails digging in deep, and twisted hard in a brutal belly claw.

Sherrie screamed.

TO BE CONTINUED...
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« Reply #6 on: August 18, 2016, 02:55:31 AM »

When my opponent was named and she stepped out of the crowd most of those in attendance likely believed I was furious at being thrown such a hard bodied woman for my first fight in over a year, listening to their whispered exchanges certainly backed up that assumption. I wasn't deaf nor blind, after being at these events for a few years I could read the room and tell what was on everyone's minds, and judging from the phone calls made after Sherrie was called to Scribb's side a lot of bets were being made against me. That was only going to make this victory all the sweeter though, once I break this overconfident skank I'd relish in the regrets of those not smart enough to put their money on me, as well as the jealous glares I love getting from the other fighters so much.

It wasn't even a possibility in my mind, my winning was an absolute certainty. Sherrie is proving every bit as tough as one would imagine given her ripped body, but thats exactly what I had hoped when I accepted to fight tonight. Yes she was proving to be a thorn in my side, a real tough bitch I silently admitted to myself, yet as hard as she hit and as fast as she was I know I'm even stronger, quicker, and more importantly I have the skill and experience to dominate her.

My gaze as always during these events drifts to Tiffany, not that little slut who let herself get toyed with at my gym, but the champion who sat in my rightful place in the seat of champions. Having her plaything for the evening staring with obvious lust was a good start but I knew I wouldn't be satisfied until fear appeared in Tiff's eyes, the sign that she knew her end was coming.
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« Reply #7 on: August 19, 2016, 12:50:42 AM »

Tiffany sat in the champion’s seat, front and center facing the arena, watching the two women do battle.  Her face was carefully impassive but inside she was quite surprised.  She had expected the blonde to be all over Lyanna.  The big redhead was soft and slow – anyone could tell that just by looking at her.  Sure, she’d had a few wins here in the Society, even a few unexpected ones, but Tiffany had written those off to luck.  Lyanna was a wannabe, unworthy to be here in this room and certainly unworthy of the title shot she was always angling for.

That was not what she was seeing tonight however.  Sherrie was strong, tough and fast, but Lyanna was matching her in every way, and taking the fight to her more often than not.  Tiffany winced as Sherrie grabbed Lyanna by the breasts, but then her eyes widened and she gasped at the way Lyanna came back with a belly claw that Tiffany felt almost as much as saw.  The sudden stiffening in Sherrie’s lean body, the pain evident in her eyes even before her piercing scream echoed around the room, bringing a murmur from the audience.  Tiffany didn’t know if it was sympathy for Sherrie or appreciation for Lyanna – maybe both.

Sherrie grabbed frantically at Lyanna’s wrist, trying to pull the redhead’s hand away from the tormented abs, still shrieking in pain.  Lyanna released her grip, leaving five livid marks on the blonde’s belly where her claws had dug deep, and instead thrust her hand down further, gripping the front of Sherrie’s thong and wrenching savagely upwards, almost lifting the blonde off her feet as the silver lame disappeared up between her dark-flushed nether lips.

Keeping her hold, Lyanna jerked Sherrie around to face Tiffany and Sara, jerking the thong up even harder into Sherrie’s womanhood, forcing the blonde up onto her toes again, her face a mask of pain.  Tiffany realized Lyanna wasn’t looking at Sherrie right at this instant however.  Instead her eyes bored into Tiffany’s own.  Bitch is sending a message.

Sherrie raked her nails down Lyanna’s forearm, making the bigger woman wince in pain and jerk her arm away.  Lyanna didn’t let up on her adversary however, as she stepped around behind the blonde, converting the arm bar into a hammerlock as she did so.  She switched the grip with her other hand to the back of Sherrie’s thong, jerking upward again, working it side to side, wedging the cloth deeper into Sherrie’s sex as her adversary cursed and howled.

Tiffany felt a movement to her right, and glanced sideways at Sara.  Her lover sat spellbound, her eyes bright and riveted on the fight.  Her face was flushed all the way down to her bosom and one hand was pressed up under her short skirt.  Her nipples, clearly evident through her dress, betrayed her arousal, if any indication was needed.  She was a fight voyeur indeed.

Sherrie squirmed in Lyanna’s grip and stomped her heel down aimed at the redhead’s right foot, but Lyanna jerked it away in the nick of time.  She shoved herself forward, propelling Sherrie in front of her – right at the spot where Tiffany and Sara sat, and flung the blonde right at them.   Tiffany threw herself to her left and Sara, snapped out of her reverie, scooted to the right to get out of the way.  Bitch is really sending a message.

*****

Lyanna couldn’t help a smile as the Society champion and her paramour of the moment hurled themselves out of Sherrie’s path in a decidedly undignified fashion.  That’s nothing to the indignities I’ve got planned for you, you skank. Sherrie caught her knees on the front of the couch, slammed hard into the backrest and went head over heels onto the floor behind in a shrieking tumult of tangled limbs.

Taking a moment to catch her breath, Lyanna waited until she saw Sherrie rise above the back of the couch, tossing her head to flip her matted hair out of her eyes.  Then she launched herself at her adversary again, leaping onto the couch between the still-sprawled Tiffany and Sara, and over the back of it as she aimed a flying kick at the blonde’s head.

Perhaps it was the cries of alarm from the spectators scrambling aside that warned her adversary, but Sherrie whirled to face Lyanna and, at the last instant, threw herself down.  Lyanna’s foot passed so close that it ruffled her hair, but the kick missed and Lyanna flew over Sherrie’s head.  She hit the floor, stumbled, fell and rolled, taking the impact on her shoulder and sprang back up to her feet, twisting to face her opponent once more.

Discomfited more than hurt by Lyanna’s wedgie attack, Sherrie was already back on her feet and on the offensive.  “Now it’s my turn, bitch!” She aimed a punch at Lyanna’s left breast, which the redhead blocked with an outflung arm.  Her left-handed blow was a mere feint however and while Lyanna parried that one too, Sherrie’s back-fist caught her a solid blow to the side of the head and sent her reeling backward as more of the onlookers dodged aside.

Sherrie followed up quickly as Lyanna backed away through the crowd, closing with the retreating redhead and firing a flurry of slaps and punches, keeping Lyanna on the defensive.  Lyanna dodged and weaved, avoiding most of the blows, blocking others so that Sherrie did not land a solid hit on her.  The exertion was beginning to tell however.  Her chest heaved as she fought for breath.  Her muscles burned.  Sweat stung her eyes.  She needed to finish this fight – finish this bitch – and do it soon.

She lunged at Sherrie but the blonde backed away, dodging around several onlookers, drawing Lyanna after her.  The redhead bumped shoulders with a tall, willowy, short-haired brunette whom she’d seen around the Society’s gym a few times – Sonja, that was her name – as she pursued her adversary, and darted around another redhead in a bottle-green cocktail dress.  Sherrie kept just out of her grasp.  Though she too was breathing hard and her bronzed skin shone with sweat, the blonde was smiling.  She thinks she’s wearing me down.  She thinks she’s taking control.  Think again, bitch.

The smile on Sherrie’s face suddenly disappeared as her back bumped into the thick glass windows that formed one wall of the two-storey room.  She had run out of room to dodge.  Now it was Lyanna’s turn to smile – but only for a moment as Sherrie hurled herself at the redhead with a piercing cry.

Their bodies came together hard with a loud slap of flesh on sweat-slicked flesh, each letting out a harsh grunt of exhausted exertion as the impact drove the breath out of them.  Lyanna groaned out loud as the bunched muscles of her straining thighs struggled to force Sherrie back, but the blonde’s adrenalin was pumping now and she too strained with all her might as they pressed chest to chest, sweat mingling, in a desperate impasse.

Sherrie reached an arm around Lyanna’s back and hooked her fingers into Lyanna’s thong.  “Payback time, bitch!” she snarled, her voice fraught with strain and fatigue, and hauled upward brutally, jerking the fabric into Lyanna’s crotch.

Lyanna gasped in pain but she too reached her hand around to grasp Sherrie’s thong once more.  “You’re a glutton for punishment, skank!” She too twisted her hand and wrenched upward.  The two women stumbled in a ragged circle, groaning, gasping, cursing at one another as the crowd moved to stay out of their path.

“Going DOWN!” Sherrie let out a roar of exertion as she bent her knees and heaved upward as hard as she could on Lyanna’s thong.  Her eyes opened wide in surprise however as, with a harsh sound of tortured stitching, the redhead’s thong tore away in her hands.  The momentum sent her staggering backwards, breaking Lyanna’s grip and momentarily separating the two combatants.

Lyanna gave a pain-filled laugh.  “Lesson number one, Barbie! Make sure the stitching isn’t too strong so it rips apart.” She laughed again.  “Something they never taught you out west…or maybe blondes really are that dumb!”

Sherrie growled and flung herself forward at Lyanna, but the redhead was expecting just such as reaction.  As her opponent’s hands shot out to seize her by the hair, she ducked, twisted, grabbed Sherrie’s outstretched arm and yanked the screaming blonde into a shoulder throw that sent her flying over Lyanna to land on her face with a solid thump back on the mat at the edge of the arena.

Lyanna stumbled after her and, as Sherrie came up onto all fours, groaning, she grabbed the other woman yet again by the back of her thong, with both hands this time.  “Real pity you missed that lesson,” she sneered as she wrenched upward, dragging Sherrie’s body up, arching the blonde’s back, until only her elbows touched the mat.  “Would’ve saved you a lotta pain!” She rammed a knee into Sherrie’s overstretched abs.  The blonde’s lower torso and hips shot up even further from the force of the blow.  Sherrie let out a loud “UNNNGGGHHH!!!” and then another groan as her weight came back down and her thong dug deep into her sex.

The redhead shook Sherrie violently left to right before sending another savage knee lift into the beleaguered blonde’s belly.  Sherrie made a sound like a tormented animal, but then the stitching on her own thong gave way and it ripped free in Lyanna’s hands, dropping Sherrie in a groaning heap to the mat.

Lyanna took a step back, tossing Sherrie’s ruined thong aside, before she stepped up to the naked, groaning blonde and seized her by the ankles.  She wondered for a moment whether to step over her opponent, sit down onto her back and go for an immediate submission with a Boston Crab, but decided against it.  Instead she lifted Sherrie’s ankles up high, stretching the blonde’s back again, and drove her knee yet again into the other woman’s exposed midriff.  Sherrie had too little breath to scream, but she shuddered and gave a gasping, gurgling cry of anguish, squirming vainly in Lyanna’s implacable grip.

That was the way to do it, thought Lyanna with a grim smile.  You could find an opponent’s weakness and exploit it to win the fight.  That was the way most would do it.  But Sherrie’s abs were her strength – her pride and joy.  That was obvious to anyone who looked at her chiseled body.  To attack her there, where she was strongest, and demolish her until she could take no more, was to truly defeat her.  She would know that all her preparation, all her strength and power, was not enough.  That was what Lyanna wanted to achieve, not just for this opponent but for anyone who faced her.

Sherrie pushed up onto her elbows again in another attempt to escape Lyanna’s clutches, but Lyanna hammered another knee into her belly button, slamming her forward and down onto her face on the mat.  The blonde’s long hair had escaped in bunches from her ponytail and hung in dank, sweat-soaked curtains on the floor around her face.  Her bare breasts were pressed hard into the mat, her chest heaving, shoulders rising and falling as she desperately forced air into her lungs.

Lyanna spared a glance toward the mirrors that ringed three quarters of the arena, giving her a view of the audience behind her.  Every eye was on her, from those of the clustered crowd who stood behind the ring of couches, to those of the champion, her girlfriend and the other favored few who had front row seats, to the watchers on the terraced stairways and the balcony above.  Many of those eyes looked on with admiration or outright lust.  Some had even succumbed to that lust.  a man on the balcony was standing behind his female companion, kissing her neck.  He had lifted the front of her short black dress and she was grinding slowly on his hand between her thighs.  Behind Lyanna, two women were fondling one another, their eyes still fixed on the fight.  To Lyanna’s delight, even Sara, Tiffany’s companion, was staring mesmerized at her, legs apart, fingers busy between her legs.

She sent yet another knee lift into Sherrie’s belly, eliciting a retching gasp from the battered blonde, before she let go her ankles and dropped her to the mat once again.  The pace and the pain were beginning to tell on Lyanna too as she stepped forward wearily, bent and dragged Sherrie’s head up by the hair.  “You’re done,” she panted, as the sweat dripped off her own extended nipples onto Sherrie’s pain-wracked face.  “Give it up, bitch…it’s over.”

Sherrie glared at her through tendrils of dank hair, with desperate defiance.  She drew a shuddering breath and gasped, “You…go to hell.”

Lyanna rocked her head to the side with a vicious slap.  “Say it!” Sherrie would have fallen if Lyanna hadn’t held her up by the hair.

“Fuck…you.”

Lyanna threw her head back in frustration and fired another slap at Sherrie’s face, this time letting go with her other hand so the blonde sprawled sideways on the mat.  She stalked in a circle around her battered adversary as Sherrie lay there panting in a heap, before she slowly and painfully untangled her limbs and rose onto all fours.

Only then did Lyanna step in and launch a kick that slammed up under Sherrie’s arm, lifting her halfway to her knees, her head snapping back, hair whipping up and sending a spray of sweat arcing across the arena.  The blow flung the blonde down on her side and sent her skidding several feet across the mat.  “Give it up!” screamed Lyanna in a voice full of steel.

TO BE CONTINUED...
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« Reply #8 on: August 19, 2016, 07:32:43 PM »

Behind Lyanna, two women were fondling one another, their eyes still fixed on the fight. 

I had at last managed to gain admission to the Society Club, and was accompanied by my sexy girlfriend, Zoey ... to check out the terrain and scout out possible opponents ...  Wink Cheesy

Transfixed and hypnotized by the wild, untamed, fierce fighting unfolding before our eye between Lyanna and Sherrie ... Zoey reaches behind my back to gently cup my left breast, teasing my hardening nipple through the thin material of my top ... as my right hand teases down, slipping underneath her mini-skirt ... my fingers gently brushing over her trimmed bush to feel the moisture in her sweet, naked cleft ... watching these two crazy bitches go at it is really turning both of us on ... HUGELY! Mmmm!  Tongue Kiss

Fantastically sexy & hot, Scrib!  Tongue Kiss Wink

- Sonja
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Let's rumble, bitch ... let's see what you've got, slut!
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« Reply #9 on: August 20, 2016, 01:02:25 AM »

Again Sherrie lay there for a long moment before she gathered her arms, then her legs, under her and forced herself up onto her hands and knees.  She remained there for only a few heartbeats before Lyanna’s foot caught her in the pit of her stomach and sent her rolling across the mat once more.  On her back, hair strewn across her face, arms akimbo and legs twisted beneath her, she lay there with her bare breasts swaying at each gasping breath she took.

Lyanna stalked over to her, standing over her, waiting until Sherrie’s glazed eyes finally found a focus on her.  “Say it!” she repeated and raised a foot to stomp down on the blonde’s ravaged belly.

Sherrie stiffened reflexively and her desperate “NO!!!” cut through the silence in the room.  She managed to raise a placating hand as she repeated more softly, “No! Enough…enough.”

“You give?” Lyanna’s foot still hovered threateningly.

“I…I give,” answered Sherrie in a breathless sob of despair.  “You win.”

“Louder!” Lyanna ordered her.

It took a moment for the blonde to gather her breath, but then she repeated, more loudly and clearly this time, “I give…you win!”

Lyanna kept her foot raised for a count of three, as she enjoyed the despair and defeat in her opponent’s voice, the look of anguish in her tear-filled eyes.  Then she took a step back, turned to the watching crowd and raised her arms in victory, tossing her head back, lifting her arms and thrusting her chest out triumphantly as the audience erupted into applause.  This was what she fought for, this was why she struggled and suffered and endured, all for this feeling – the look in a beaten opponent’s eyes, the looks on the faces of the audience as they lusted for her, their cheers of adulation.  She broke into a wide smile.

She let the applause subside as she turned to the still supine, still gasping Sherrie.  “You gave it a good shot, bitch,” she conceded.  “You’re good…but you weren’t good enough.” She gave a smile as she let herself, at last, think of what came next.  “You’re not quite done here yet, though.” She licked her lips.  In the Society, losers paid a humiliating price, in several ways.  She didn’t feel sorry for Sherrie – everyone who fought here knew the stakes were more than just prize money, lucrative as that was.  “Up on your knees, bitch.”

It took Sherrie almost a full minute – and a failed attempt – before she managed to rise to her knees before Lyanna.  “You know how this goes,” the redhead told her.  “I get your bikini as a trophy.” She grinned.  “For starters, anyways.  Go fetch it for me…on your knees…in your teeth.”

Slowly, Sherrie leaned forward, her arms trembling with fatigue as they took the weight of her upper body.  She came onto all fours and turned ponderously toward where her silver bikini top lay crumpled but gleaming a few yards away.  Step by agonizing step she made her way toward it.  “Don’t feel too bad…you’ll be laying down on your back soon enough!” Lyanna taunted her to the accompaniment of laughter from the crowd.

The blonde reached the bikini top and paused there for a moment, her tangled hair brushing across it, before she dipped her head and took it carefully in her teeth.  Then she turned once more, recrossing the arena laboriously on all fours, head hanging, her bare bronzed buttocks undulating sensuously under the bright lights as she crawled to the place close by Lyanna, where the redhead had tossed her torn thong.

There she dropped the bikini top on top of it – she had obviously done or seen this done before, thought Lyanna – and then bowed her head once more to pick up both scraps of cloth in her mouth.  Turning around in another half circle, she crept back through the crowd to where Lyanna stood waiting.

“You took your time,” said Lyanna mockingly.  She thrust her hand out.  “Give it to me. It’s mine now…my prize.” She grinned again.  “The first part of it, anyway.”

Sherrie obediently sat back on her haunches and stretched her head up to place the tiny, torn garments in Lyanna’s outstretched hand.  Lyanna crumpled them up as she stood with her hands on her hips, gazing down at Sherrie, who knelt with her head hung low, hands on the mat either side of her knees.  “Now comes the good bit.”  The redhead smiled in anticipation as she reached out a hand and shoved Sherrie roughly over onto her back with her legs bent awkwardly – and painfully – back under her body.  I said you’d be on your back, bitch, but I didn’t say you’d be comfortable.

She stepped forward to straddle the fallen blonde, standing over her with her hips thrust forward, giving Sherrie an interrupted view of her bare, shaven womanhood.  “Now for the rest of my prize,” she said in a voice loud enough for the entire room to hear, and sank slowly to her knees with her shins pinning Sherrie’s outstretched arms to the mat.  She reached forward and flipped the sodden rat-tails of Sherrie’s hair off her beaten opponent’s face, until she looked down between her proud, out-thrust breasts into Sherrie’s eyes.  “Now,” she licked her lips again in anticipation, “eat me,” and lowered her crotch onto Sherrie’s face.

The blonde stiffened beneath her as they made contact.  Lyanna felt Sherrie’s hot breath on her already flushed nether lips.  She wriggled her hips and they parted, Sherrie’s nose poking between them.  Lyanna gave a tiny gasp as it touched her swollen clit, and bit her lip gently.  This might not be what winning was all about for her, but it ran a close – very close – second.  Reaching down, she grasped Sherrie by the hair and pulled here defeated opponent’s face up harder into her pussy.  “Go on…do it.”

Sherrie hesitated for a second, but then Lyanna felt her tongue snake out, worming its way between her outer lips, lapping at the inner, tasting her, gliding the length of her sex before pushing slowly back up to find and circle her clit.  Lyanna felt a shiver run though her, and a soft moan escaped her lips.  Her free hand came up to cup her right breast, squeezing it, pinching and rolling the nipple as she let her head fall backward.

The spark of lust was already well alight in her loins and now the dutiful attentions of Sherrie’s questing tongue fanned it into full flame.  She began to grind her hips in a slow circle, then to rock them back and forth on Sherrie’s face.  “Mmmmm….you do that well, bitch.  Must have a lot of practice, huh?” That got a murmur of mixed approval and laughter from the audience.

Sherrie’s tongue pushed up inside her and she felt her inner muscles clench, her juices already dripping out of her.  The blonde began to wriggle her jaw, Lyanna’s lips flaring wide either side of it, engulfing Sherrie’s nose, mouth and cheeks, pushing downward, grinding harder, bucking faster as the redhead’s rhythm grew more urgent and tiny moans began to emanate from her parted lips.

“Mmm…yes….mmmm….lick me….MMMMMMM…..Oh….Oh!....MMMGGGNNNGGGHHH!!!” Before she knew it, Lyanna’s body exploded into spasm as her climax rushed upon her, sweeping her up and carrying her with it, moaning and thrashing, her head whipping back, then snapping forward, breasts bouncing, shoulders shaking with the force of her orgasm.

It felt like a long time before she finally came down from whatever lofty heights to which her climax had propelled her.  Her chest was heaving once more, limbs trembling, eyes closed and mouth open as she gulped air into her lungs.  At last she straightened up and eased herself back a little until she could stare down at her vanquished opponent’s reddened face, glistening with sweat and the juices of Lyanna’s lust.  “Not…bad…bitch,” she panted.

Eventually she gathered the strength to rise up on quivering legs to stand over Sherrie once more.  “So…I guess your job is done for tonight,” she smiled.  “Time to – “

She was abruptly interrupted by a voice from the crowd.  “Excuse me.”  She whipped her head around impatiently.  What the…? She was even more surprised to see Andrew Scribbs emerge from the crowd.  He was holding a black lacquered box, the kind in which the loser’s bikini was traditionally presented to the winner later in the evening along with her prize check.  Lyanna, mouth open to deliver a stinging rebuke at the interruption, shut it again and looked at him inquiringly.  What the hell is this?

Scribbs stepped onto the mat and walked over to Lyanna and Sherrie.  He gave the blonde a brief glance but then turned his attention to Lyanna.  “The committee has been deliberating for some time,” he announced.

Lyanna looked at him.  The committee was the group of people who administered the Society’s affairs.  They were largely anonymous though she assumed that Scribbs was a member.  The identities of the others were the subject of much rumor and debate among the Society’s fighters.

“The committee has decided,” Scribbs went on, his voice carrying throughout the room, “that…given recent events…it’s long past time for the Society champion to defend her title.” He gave a pointed look toward where Tiffany sat on the couch, watching him intently.

“There was, of course, considerable debate about who should challenge for the title,” he continued.  “Tonight’s fight was part of the process of working that out.  So…” He opened the lacquered box, drew from it a small scrap of black cloth, and handed it to Lyanna.

She unfolded it in her hands – it didn’t take much unfolding – and a slow smile blossomed and broadened on her face.  Her heart, still pounding from her orgasm, beat faster again.

In her hands was a black thong, a triangle of cloth smaller than the palm of her hand, with thin spaghetti straps and a narrow band at the back.  On it was embroidered a gold number ‘1’.  She gazed at it, beaming, for a long time, recognizing its significance, before she turned her eyes back to Scribbs.

He smiled back at her.  “Yes,” he confirmed her unspoken understanding.  “Congratulations, Lyanna.  You’re now…officially…the number one contender for the Society championship title.”

Lyanna drew a deep breath.  Her chest swelled and her nipples grew even harder, her body trembling with excitement.  This was the chance she had been fighting for, ever since she attended her first Society fight as a spectator in Miami, several years ago.  She had decided then that she wanted more than anything to be the Society champion.  Now that dream was within her grasp.

She nudged the recumbent Sherrie with her toe.  “Here, bitch…” she dropped the thong onto Sherrie’s heaving chest. “Make yourself useful…put this on me.”

Sherrie’s eyes stared up at her blearily for a moment before the blonde stirred, pushing herself up wearily, painfully onto one elbow.  The thong slid off her shining skin onto the mat as she rolled up laboriously onto her knees, but she picked it up from the floor and held it out in shaking hands, her head hanging as she faced this final ignominy.

Lyanna stepped into it, first her left foot, then her right, and stood with legs slightly parted as Sherrie slowly slid the thong up her lithe, muscular legs.  She bent them a little, assisting the blonde as she snugged the triangle into place over Lyanna’s shaven mound and eased the slender straps up over the sensuous swell of her hips.

The thong clung to her body like a second skin.  She took another deep breath, clenched her fists, flexed her legs, feeling her buttocks tighten.  There was the burn of fatigue still in her muscles, but now there was a surge of anticipatory adrenalin too that washed the exhaustion away.  She shoved Sherrie down contemptuously onto her back once more.

Turning to Tiffany, she stepped over the fallen blonde, planting a foot in Sherrie’s midriff as she did so, eliciting another plaintive groan from the defeated blonde.  The Society champion sat open-mouthed, her eyes darting back and forth between Lyanna and Scribbs.  “So…it’s official,” said Lyanna with the hint of a sneer in her voice.  “No more avoiding it, Tiffany…it’s you against me now.”  She reached out and pointed.  “Next Society meeting…one month…for the championship.”  There was a resounding cheer from the audience.  Lyanna knew they wanted to see this, to see the champion put up or be shut down.  It was time.  It was her time.

Tiffany said nothing.  They faced each other for a long time and the expectant silence in the room grew palpable.  Tiffany’s eyes roamed up and down Lyanna’s body.  Lyanna knew how she looked – she could see herself reflected in the windows behind.  Her hair was matted and dripping with sweat.  Her skin shone under the bright lights.  The muscles of her arms, legs and torso were pumped from the long exertion of the fight and rippled at every movement.  The golden ‘1’ gleamed in her crotch but her eyes gleamed even brighter, alight with diamond determination.  “Unless…of course…you really just the pretender everyone thinks you are.”

The champion looked at Lyanna, her eyes narrowing at the barbed comment.  She looked aside at Scribbs, who said nothing, then around her at the crowd who stood in stony silence.  Lyanna’s lip curled into the merest hint of a smile and she raised an eyebrow.  What was that she saw in Tiffany’s eyes?  Apprehension, for sure.  Anxiety, perhaps.  Maybe even fear.

At last Tiffany rose to her feet.  She took a deep breath of her own and nodded.  “Okay,” she said.  “You got a deal.  I just hope you know what you’re getting into…skank.”

The crowd burst into wild applause.  Lyanna stood there, smiling so widely that her cheeks ached.  Her time was at hand.

THE END
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Dirty bad bitch
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« Reply #10 on: August 20, 2016, 04:06:50 PM »


“Mmm…yes….mmmm….lick me….MMMMMMM…..Oh….Oh!....MMMGGGNNNGGGHHH!!!” Before she knew it, Lyanna’s body exploded into spasm as her climax rushed upon her, sweeping her up and carrying her with it, moaning and thrashing, her head whipping back, then snapping forward, breasts bouncing, shoulders shaking with the force of her orgasm.


Oooh, victory doesn't come any sweeter than that!  Tongue Wink Well, done Lyanna; you've earned a crack at the champ!  Tongue

Mmm, wonder when I'll get a chance to prove myself?  Roll Eyes Wink

- Sonja
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Let's rumble, bitch ... let's see what you've got, slut!
sherriefights
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« Reply #11 on: August 20, 2016, 04:49:58 PM »

You may have gotten me this time Lyanna, but the next time we meet it will be me standing over your broken body!

(Thank you to all who took part of this!)
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TheScribbler
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Everyone's a writer - most people just don't know


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« Reply #12 on: August 21, 2016, 12:47:20 PM »

Let me echo Sherrie's comment...thanks to everyone who took the time to insert themselves into the story, make comments or simply read it.  Particular thanks once again to Sherrie and Lyanna for lending me their characters.

Scrib
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lyannapelon
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My inner nature unleashed.


« Reply #13 on: August 23, 2016, 12:38:00 AM »

Another incredible story from the Scribbler! Seriously after all the stories in the Society series the odds say they couldn't all be great but he delivers yet again. A big thank you to him for penning this wild fight and another goes out to Sherrie for being my opponent for it. I'm glad a few people managed to write themselves into the story and I know I speak for everyone when I say we can't wait to see me kick Tiffany's butt!
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« Reply #14 on: August 23, 2016, 02:44:58 AM »

scribb, you can really write such good stories  I have not finished reading it yet  but you are surely one of the top writers in fcf. Your contributions to this site help make it fun  Thank you for what you give us  Smiley
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