[~*M*~]

Time for another classic, and this time, it’s for those of you who like things on the rougher side. The claws retracted, the referee took a nap, the fists came out, and instead of a ring or mats, it was a pit dug in the desert by us and our fellow troops. Yup, that’s right everybody, Private Rebecca Payne and Private Emily Wishmaker went at it in a no holds barred, right~of~passage graduation fight in front of our entire platoon!

But first, few words, about my opponent;

Again, my lucky streak continues. And I keep meeting those amazing people here, that not only humble me, but in the process make me see things into perspective, that there is always out there someone to wow me, to make me feel matched, outmatched, and then bested. Fights are not about their endings, it’s not about who has her arm raised at the end, or who ends up crawling from the other’s beaten bodies. They’re about the process. They’re about every line, every word, every letter arranged perfectly to put us in the moment, and make me feel those moves, attacks, the rush of emotions. To make me cringe, smile, laugh, and frown while sitting tends, hundreds, or thousands of miles away from my opponent, staring at each other through our computer screens.

And that’s exactly how I felt with Rebecca; or rather how she made me feel. And I have to apologize to her and everyone because actually, this fight took place over a month and a half ago, and I have been just too busy/lazy to post it up here. It’s a masterpiece, and deserved to be treated as no less. And the process of editing things on the forums, ensure the spacing, spelling and presentation is friendly to the eye, takes a couple of hours at least.

Calm down, calm down, no need to boo me off my stage, I’ll just wipe my happy tear off my eye, and just scamper off. I hope you ladies and gentlemen out there enjoy it.

XoXo ~*M*~

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First off, the one and only, gorgeously fantastic, Private Rebecca Payne



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And once again, my humble self!!



Rebecca: It is Saturday, late in the afternoon.  I stand over the edge of the pit in the sandy earth, watching Rodriguez and Mathews go at it.  The entire squad is screaming out advice and recommendations.  Even though I am normally quiet, I find myself caught up in it as well.  The sun beats down on us.  I glance over at Emily, and my blue eyes size her up.  I know deep down that Sergant Major will pair us up.  She is the only other woman here, and the two of us are among the few women ever accepted into this program.  Despite the teasing from our classmates, I have felt a great deal of competitiveness towards you, but no outright hate.  I respect another woman who can make it this far.  I have constantly tried to make sure I came out ahead of you, but sometimes I would edge you out, sometimes you would edge me out.  In my mind, I did more of the edging out, but that might just be psychological.  

I am convinced I'm the superior soldier here, but I'm far from dismissive of your abilities.  A loud crash and a grunt of pain draws my attention back to the pit.  Matthews is on his back, and Rodriguez has pounced on him.  A vicious round of ground-and-pound and Matthews' eyes are rolling into his head.  

"STOP!"  The SM calls out, and the cheers grow louder.  A few muttered curses, but Matthews put up a good fight before the end.  A rope ladder is thrown down, and Rodriguez rises up, fists pumping, his broad grin bloody but happy, from his victory.  He picks up an unconscious Matthews in a fireman's carry, and climbs out of the pit via the ladder, with some assistance from a few classmates.  There are some cheers, and back slapping, typical male bonding.  I feel a slap at my own back, and think it is someone getting into it, but instead it is the Sergeant.  "YOU.  You're up."  I turn and nod, pulling off my white tank top to reveal my cammo sports bra beneath, and make sure my short khakis are adjusted, before hopping down into the pit.  I pull a band out of a pocket, pulling my hair into a ponytail, and slip on a pair of lifting fingerless gloves, as I await my opponent.


Emily: "Ready Private Sears??" The voice cackled mischievously this morning during the drills, and right before we set off to the expansive desert behind the camp to dig the pit.

"Born ready Sir!" I respond in a formal, sharp, decisive voice, standing attention as I realize it was Sarge.
"Huh? I guess we will see about that. Either way, you better not suck, for I want your white candy ass out of my troop!" He barks in my face, spittle and foul breath spraying over my face.
"SIR YES SIR!" I tense my body even further, every fiber in my being wanting to fire my knee between his thighs, or smash my forehead on his nose,  but ~~

"YOU ARE A DISGRACE!! Tell them back home that the next time they send me a chick, she better be here to cook, clean, and pump us some brave soldiers, BOY soldiers!"
"SIR YES SIR!" I scream out, reaching the point of considering tossing away my career, everything I worked for to just bite his Goddamn mouth off!

Throughout the day, he just cracked down on me hard, he made no secret at how much he hated to be the one with women in his troop, not one, but two. And perhaps you being there to share the 'load' only made things tolerable. But the pressure, the immense pressure he put on us, turned us into more of rivals and competitors than anything. The last thing I needed is another girl to bond with, and to give them a reason to criticize me more, I did not want a ~sister~, or anything to stereotype me as any different than those men~

Our rivalry was clean though, mostly, despite everything, I knew that you were no different, I knew you were worthy of respect, and admiration for not dropping out like the 9 other girls who didn't survive three months here. And perhaps, after we walk out of here, I will take your number, buy you drinks or dinner somewhere. Although I'm not even sure to what your reaction would be to that, but alas, there is one big obstacle to climb, or rather climb~into.... The pit....

And as I stood there, watching, my lips trembled, watching the action, screaming my encouragement to Mathews; not out of love really, but loyalty and comradery to my bunk mate. I've shared the same bunker with him for the last 8 months, and right now, a loss to our bunker is still a collective loss to us, I roll my eyes, watching Roddie straddle him, hammering his fists down on his face until the fight was stopped. And when they climbed out, I was actually the first to grab Mathews' arm and help him out, tapping on his back as he spat blood on my white tank top.

But as I hear the bark to you, to get in, my eyes go up, seeing you just moving and jumping down, taking off your top and showing your strong body, the muscles outlined on shoulders and abs, and then as Sarge points at me across the pit, I already know it;

"YOU! HOP IN THERE!"

I let go of Mathews arm and I just stand up, reaching and peeling my tank top up and off, revealing my black sports bra, my khaki shorts at my upper thighs, revealing the tone of muscle, I reach up and bunch my blonde hair in a quick pony tail, snatching the lifting gloves from James' grip, and I ignore the hand reaching for me to help me down, and I just press my left hand on the edge and vault myself down, bending my legs, landing on my boots to a puff of dirt. Staring at you, my jaw rocking right and left, slipping my gloves in. My 5'9" 130lbs frame tensed, hearing the assholes up there 'Meow'ing and 'Purr'ing at us, making fun of the 'Catfight' to happen, but oh, how wrong are they~this is not a Catfight... And you and I know it...


Rebecca: I roll my head on my shoulders, loosening up my neck, and swing my arms backward, loosening up my shoulders, as the Sergeant Major makes his wayaround inevitably, to you.  at 5'6" 122lbs I'm smaller than you, but my toned body compensates for that.  Which is not to say you are soft; I can see you aren't.  As you hop down into the pit, I hear the classmates start taunting us: meowing, purring, hissing, and snarling.  Some of them are assholes.  Some are just giving us shit like they give everyone shit.  I ignore the first type and don't mind the second: if they treated me softly I'd be more angry.  But my attention isn't on them, it is on you.  I don't hate you, I never have, but I am determined I will not lose to you.  No way, no how.  

I start to step to the side a little, my boots scraping the dirt floor of the pit.  "The brunette totally hates the blonde.  They all do."  "I vote they kiss!"  "Why didn't we turn the hoses on to make this into mud wrestling, sarge?"  I hear them shout.  My attention stays on you.  If I was distracted by some comments, I would prove myself not worthy of the training, and I will not do that.  "OK Barbie and ... Other one.  FIGHT!" The sergeant shouts.  

He's always been a little tougher on you.  I always wondered if that meant he had higher hopes for you.  No matter.  I'm here to prove myself.  I circle, bringing my fists up, as the sun beats down on us, surrounded by screaming soldiers.


Emily: My chest heaves on my chest, staring at you, you look like a million dollars really. And I'm not even talking about how pretty you are; but at how lean tough and strong you are. A bit shorter than me, a mere 3" but still NOT enough to give me that much reach on you. And in this pit, the dirt scraping under our boots, it's not even steady. I can feel the searing sun on my burnt skin, the comments and catcalls;

"Rip her top off!"
"Give them some boards with numbers and let two men in there, we want some fighting for God's sake!"
"GO GO MILLER LITE!!! Can we have some Sarge??"

But perhaps what hits me the most is Sarge's comment, always picking on me just a bit worse than you, and I grit on my teeth, my brows furrowing, and I channel all my rage at him towards you, almost seeing his face instead of your own, and I grunt and lunge for you, my right leg stretching and thrusting behind me, I lead up with my left knee, trying to bring it up forwards aiming it at your tummy, my arms bent in front of me, fists clenched, as my right swings outwards, trying to go past your defenses to slug you into your left temple.


Rebecca: You make the first move, coming at me.  I can see you leading with your left leg a little, and I twist my hips and sidestep a little; enough that your knee grazes the side of my body rather than hammering deep into my stomach.  Your fist, however, does much better, slamming around my guard and cracking against the side of my head.  I let out a grunt, but stand my ground.  My right fists drops down and hammers at your left side, driving my fist at your ribs in a couple of short, sharp blows to hammer you while your foot resets.  My left fist snaps forward at your cheek before I bring it back up, to tighten my guard against your right fist.  As we trade blows, the guys start cheering louder.

Many are still shouting "KISS HER!" and "CATFIGHT!" but others are shouting like any other fight they would watch.  My head rings from your punch but I stand my ground.  My pulse races, but I try to keep my emotions in check.  I can feel the strength behind your blows, but I know mine is every bit the match if not greater.  


Emily: Within three seconds, just three seconds, FIVE blows are traded, some glancing, while most land with loud meaty THUDS, but enough to shut up every asshole standing there at the edge of the pit glaring at us. And as I grunt stumbling back, pressing my left forearm against my left side, getting PUNISHED for my rushed charge at you, you swing your left into my right cheek, that i BARELY dodge it, as we stumble away from each other, grunting, our feet stomping on the dirt. But as quickly as they shut up, the men begin cheering and screaming once again at us to at it, only now, they can tell that the two 'kitten' pack a punch!

My teeth clench, as I quickly compose myself, before coming at you again, seeing you bringing your guard up, but I immediately go low, ducking and spearing you hard into your gut, twisting my right shoulder in to thrust it into your Solar plexus, my left arm dipping down and wrapping around the back of your right thigh pulling hard and lifting your foot off as I spear you hard into the wall of the pit, my right arm curling outwards as I drive my fist twist hard into your left side, not the ribs, but just to the front of your kidney in two quick blows.


Rebecca: The rapid exchange of blows quiets all but the most die-hard sexist asses in the group, proving we are no mere eye-candy but in fact trained warriors just like them.  I see you backing up after my barrage, avoiding the last shot, but wrong-footed as you dodge.  I set my feet and then lunge in, but you prove your determination as you do the same thing, no longer retreating but attacking.  

You duck low and I think it is a feint, swinging where your head will be when you pop up, but it is no feint and you slam into me, your shoulder driving into my solar plexus as you throw your body into mine.  

I let out a gasp as the hard blow rattles me.  I close my eyes, and the force of your spear drives me back into the back wall of dirt.  My body hits it with a thud, but you are still on me relentlessly, hammering short but hard shots at my kidneys.  I bring my arms up, covering my head.  I gasp and groan, rattled from the hard shot and the wind knocked from me for a moment, but not about to drop my guard and let you go head-hunting.


Emily: The thud to the wall of the pit sends a shockwave up, that causes two guys to almost slip and fall down into it, if not for dropping their bodies back and pawing at the dirt, but a certain rain of dust and dirt rains on us as we crash and grind into it, my left arm hugging your strong thigh, keeping you up on one leg, and as I fire my punches to your sides, you go up, blocking. And despite the delicious feeling of how my right, slightly padded, fist slams into your side, I know it is not enough, I don't have a clear shot at your kidney, and you certainly can take these shots.

My mind racing, and I remember what sarge told us before the fights;

"These are not matches. These are not sparring. These are fights. This is how you will fight an enemy soldier who has disarmed you, who is there, to kill you, or be killed by you. WILL YOU DIE TODAY, ROOKIES??"

"SIR NO SIR!!" We all roared back in one voice...

And the adrenaline gushing in my veins just brings me to it. Fine, those assholes want to see some hair pulling, so BE IT! And I tighten my grip on your right thigh, my body sliding up, feeling my shoulder pushing against the firm bumps on your chest, lifting your breasts up a bit in the camo sports bra, as my right hand reached up to your head, grabbing your dark hair by the pony tail.
And in one swift motion I suddenly STEP back away from you, tensing all the strength in my body, and pulling you hard by your hair, twisting my body, trying to lift your thigh up, and spin, to send you flying off your feet to crash hard and awkwardly on the dirt, with the dark sweat stains, and the even darker blood stains on it!


Rebecca: Your blows hammer into me, and I focus, trying to clear my head, my training kicking in.  'Breathe.  Breathe.  Breathe' I think, trying to get my breath.  That shot to the solar plexus staggered me, which is exactly why we are trained to use it.  I should have seen it coming more, but I thought I had you on the defensive.  You showed me how wrong that was.  But my head clears a little, despite the pain.  Just as I am about to start counter-striking, to force you back, I feel your hand at my ponytail and your firm, toned body grinding up mine.  You spin and peel me off the wall, and send me crashing to the dirt.  I fall clumsily into it, coughing as my gasping mouth gets a cloud of dirt right into it.  

The blood and sweat stained ground beneath me, I push to all fours and snap my head back, giving you a glare.  This bitch means business, but so do I.  I push up quickly from the ground to my feet, dirt stains on my hands and knees, but not about to leave my ribs open for a field goal kick like I would have if I had stayed there one more minute.  

I bring my guard up again, panting.  "What's the matter, Becca?  Thought you were a tough ass.  Barbie's kicking your butt!" Smythe shouts, taunting me.  I don't care about him, I care about you.  I bring my fists up... circling.... planning on trying to counter punch if you come at me hard.  


Emily: A wild SPIN sends us twirling in the dirt, my biceps and back muscles outlined, my right triceps popping out as I yank your hair and send you flying to crash to the dirt hard with a loud ~THUD~ and I grin, sweat forming on my forehead and rolling down to soak my eyebrows, a small river seeping down into my cleavage, and almost as if you are reading my thoughts, I move forwards, wanting to punt you up into your gut, to take out your core, and from that point, make things easy.

But, my left foot, that moved too clumsily after my spin, hit the back of my right ankle, and I gasp, almost losing my balance, losing that split second that is ALL you needed to push up to all fours and roll away, rising up, and I cuss madly, staring at you, our eyes locking, and my instincts tell me to rush at you, to attack you, but I know that you are ready for it, you are MOST ready, and I don't want tables turned, so instead, I dip down slightly, my knees bent, my buttocks tightening in my shorts, and my arms go up in my guard, and I flash you one heck of a sarcastic smile; if I can't attack you physically, I will do so mentally...

"What's wrong Private Payne... I thought you're gonna bring IT..." I coo at you, pursing my lips and blowing you a very provocative kiss, that sends a wave of "oooooohhhhh!!" and high-fives above us.


Rebecca: I circle... the crowd above us high 5's and cheers, catcalling.  You blow me that kiss and someone shouts "I KNEW THEY WERE GONNA KISS I KNEW IT I KNEW IT!"I let out a growl and come at you, cocking back my right fist to snap it out at your pursed, perfect lips.  I let out a snarl of anger as I lunge forward, telegraphing my punch in a fit of anger...
Or was it?  

As we close I grunt and snap my left knee upward, trying to hammer it deep into your flat belly, as I try to double you up and shut you up, as well as pay you back for winding me earlier... and preparing to follow through with that blow, clumsy as it may be, if I manage to rattle you with my knee.


Emily: Provocation~~ the game I need to play with you. I don't know if it's luck or skill that got me that early upper hand, but right now, it's gone, and I know that your rage will fuel you to do more than hurt me, and that's why, my game is to get in your head. And the kiss seems to do that in spades as you fly at me, your arm swinging back and flying forwards, and I lean back with my head, my arms going up, forearms crossed, as I try to block your punch, knowing damn well that it would break half my teeth if it landed square on my mouth.

But as your fist captures all my attention, I don't see it, the rising knee that drives into my abs, and I grunt, my body folding forwards, gasping, as you get that slight opening in my defenses, and your fist comes flying in, and in that split second all I can do it push UP on my crossed forearms, while tilting my head to the side, trying to take the punch on my cheek, not square on, and....

WHAPPPPP!!!!

The soldiers gasp as they seen my head snap to the side, my pony tail lashing through the air like a golden whip, as a spray of spittle and blood flies from my mouth as I stagger back, and they can all see my mashed upper lip, and a very visible line of blood streaming down the left corner of my lips where your fist landed square on!


Rebecca: I throw my head back and breathe deep as you go staggering, the spray of spit and blood flying through the air.  "FIRST BLOOD TO PAYNE!" One guy shouts and another scowls... are they betting on us?  Of course they are.  They bet on everything.  I see my opportunity and I pounce.  My body aches but I am not about to give up this shot.  I come forward at you, right fist popping forward as I grab your black sports bra straps, pulling you into me as I drive my right knee up to double you up once more.  I want to work your core, slow you down.

And as you gasp from the blow, I release your bra... wrapping my right arm around your head, I pull you into a headlock as you face me, tucking your head against my right side, as I try to keep you doubled over.  My arm squeezes on your head, and my free left raises up... trying to drive the point of my elbow into your exposed back.  


Emily: I can taste the coppery, bitter blood on the tip of my tongue.. My eyes squinted in obvious pain, but the most hurt comes from my PRIDE, hearing the 'First blood' call, and I grunt in pain, reaching up and rubbing the blood with my right forearm, but it's all you need to reach grab my bra and you PULL me in, and I gasp, the fabric stretching, but luckily, it is strong, even though I can hear the seams popping, before all that fills my air is the sound of air rushing out of my lungs, doubling over, gasping as I shudder in pain, knees buckling.

I feel like slipping and crashing to my knees.. But FUCK that, I won't, but as your arm wraps around my head tighten, I yelp from the pinch of my neck, trapped between your ribcage and right bicep, I feel then the sharp point of the elbow crashing on my back and I YELP in pain, screaming and the blow gives me the needed incentive to crash to my right knee, but with my neck trapped, I can't go the distance, so I growl and reach up grabbing your sweaty sides, trying to keep myself up in pain.


Rebecca: I breathe... god it feels so good and also hurts but I can BREATHE as I pause, with you squirming and groaning in pain in my grip.  I buck my hip into you and shift my grip, forcing my grip towards your neck from your head, into a guillotine chokehold, my bicep flexing as I throw my head back.  I clamp down tight on your neck and arch my back, my ponytail bobbing back as I breathe deeply, my chest heaving.

I stagger backwards a little with you, dragging you with me.  "Time... to go sleepy, bitch." I mutter.  The crowd is cheering and shouting, half urging me to put you out, half screaming for you to break free.  Clouds of dust kick up as our boots shuffle in the dirt.


Emily: My tears are now streaming from my eyes, the pain in my back, my abs, and my neck is excruciating. And that is without even counting the seeping blood from the cut on my lips, that I'm smearing down your right side, to mix with your sweat. Your arms twist and clench, every muscle outlined as you crush and clear your intention to me, you want to put me OUT....

And my mind races, there is no doubt, that you will, if you want to.. My legs getting weaker, dragging my knees to the dirt as you keep moving us, wanting to keep me distracted by trying to stay on my feet, a cunning strategy, while you do the real damage. A bruise forming on my otherwise flawless back from your sharp elbow, and I grunt, reciting the Sarge's words in my mind again;
"WILL YOU DIE TODAY ROOKIE??"

And I grit on my teeth, muttering; "Uugghhhh.... Sir.... nnngghhh.. NO..... AAAHHH SIIIIRR!!" And I ball up my right fist, curling my arm back, my left hand holding to your side, and I fire one, two, THREE hard uppercuts between your thighs!


Rebecca: I squeeze down, clamming my arm around the blonde's neck, crushing her ability to breathe.  With what little air she has, she starts shouting "SIR NO SIR in what I can only think is an oxygen deprived hallucination.  But then my pussy explodes in pain as your gloved fist slams up between us, upper cutting into my khaki clad crotch.  "FUCK!" I scream.  "FUCK FUCK!" as the hard uppercuts slam into me.  My hold breaks apart and I go staggering backwards, my back smacking into the pit wall.  I moan in pain, and gasp, squirming against the wall.   My face is twisted in agony.

I can't hear the laughter, the high fives, the mocking taunts of the crowd, or the shouts of "Bitches fight MEAN" from a few of the onlookers.  All I can to is try to roll over, against the wall, putting my back to you but trying to protect my face and body, as I groan, knees wobbly as I lean against the pit; the firmness of the wall is the only thing keeping me on my feet.


Emily: My fists bury into your pussy, once, twice, and the three almost glances as you already release me and stagger back, the boys up stairs exploding in barrage of "ooooohhhs!!" And "aaaahhh!" even though they probably do not even know how different this feels from them getting kicked in the nuts...  

Something that I had the honor of doing to at LEAST half the platoon at one point or another, earning myself the nickname 'Ball-buster'... But right now, I fall to all fours, gasping, my left hand going up and rubbing my neck in pain, staring at you as you lean against the wall.

Both on the ground, leaning against the ground in my face, and the wall in yours, trying to compose one another, and I glance up, seeing your toned muscles thighs, those sexy buns encased in your khaki shorts, now covered in dirt and grime, and I lick my lips angrily trying to wet them, as I hiss under my breath; "... no you don't BITCH..." And as you start to push up, I LAUNCH my body from this classic sprinters~start position, swinging my right knee up and I drive the sharp bony tip of my knee cap RIGHT into your ass, between those cheeks, putting all my 130lbs in the kick, to send you face~first into the dirt wall!


Rebecca: I groan against the wall, in agony.  No, those blows aren't like what a guy would feel, but I was not expecting that, and it really rattled me.  With a moment to clear my head, though, my senses return.  My hands press against the wall and I push my head back, shaking it and spitting out dirt.  "Oh you fucking bitch." I mutter.  It wasn't personal before, but it is now.  "Is that how you want it?" I ask the wall, as I am about to push off of it and spin around to face you when you throw yourself at me and slam me into the wall, driving your knee into my ass.

Rebecca: The jolt of pain shoots through and my body slams into the wall, my face getting a mouthful of dirt again.  I snarl and swing my right elbow backwards, trying to drive it into your tit or ribs as I slam it backwards roughly.  I try to use the blow to twist around to face you, grabbing for your ponytail if i can as I try to spin us along the wall, to slam your back into it as I attempt to change positions.  


Emily: Max, the asshole above us who yelled moments ago that 'Bitches fight mean', could not be anymore right... And while any of those muscle heads above would have already given up if they were in this pit by now, you and I are still going. Sarge, glancing at his stop watch, fuming, realizing that we are already in the 5th minute of our fight, beating the longest fight before us by a whooping two minutes, and he can NO blame this on us going soft at each other, at all.

And as my knee slams into your bony ass, or rather, muscled glutes sending you face forwards into the dirt, I grunt, grinning resting my elbows against it, only to GROAN feeling your elbow tilting to SLAM into my right boob, and you spin, grabbing at my hair and I YELP, as twist us and SLAM me into the dirt wall, pushing your body against mine, hip to hip, thigh to thigh, tensed abs to chiseled one, and stretched sports bra against the other.... And at this moment, as your hot musky breath churns my bleeding lips, and our eyes meet, I know this is.. ON for real...

My left hand goes up to your dark pony tail and I grab it and instead of pulling back, I pull it forwards, towards my face, and I quickly PASS it to my right hand, curling your own ponytail around your head and I PUSH it back so that the thick 'rope' of hair shoves into your mouth, between your parted teeth and I PUSH hard, trying not only to yank your hair, make you eat it, but give you that choking sensation, my left leg shooting forwards, and curling behind your right ankle as I fire a hard shot to your right ribs with my left hand PUSHING off the wall and trying to tackle you back to drop us to the ground with my weight slamming down on your chest and ribs.


Rebecca: Our eyes meet and we both know this will end when one of us is demolished, and not beforehand.  My left hand drops to my side and balls into a fist, hammering at your ribs again as I keep working your body, expecting to reap dividends from that work.  You go to my hair once more, but instead of trying to hurl me off of you, you wrap my ponytail around my face and into my gaping mouth, tasting dirt and hair as you shove it into my mouth.  I gag, gasping, and the move distracts all my attention as my eyes go wide.

Your blow hammers into my ribs and then you slam into me. We crash to the ground, in a cloud of dirt.  I cough and spit out the hair; the hard impact loosened your grip on that and gave me an opening to escape that gagging sensation, but I am still coughing and gasping.  Both my hands go to your hair, sinking my fingers in as I try to grab fingerfulls of hair near your scalp.  I rip and pull hard as I yank to the right, trying to roll us over.  I don't care if they shout “catfight!” as I pull your hair.  I don't care that they are screaming about your unorthodox move to shove my own hair down my throat.  

I just want you off me so I can dish out pain.  My eyes burn with the desire to do just that.


Emily: The boys are stunned~ that's the least to describe them, as even the most hardened in them can tell rfom the grunts, the blood, the bruises, the way our muscles bulge and strain, that this is a real fight. The whole mumjo-jumbo ~in their own words~ that they heard in all the pro-feminine gender equality lectures they were forced to attend, that women have a much higher pain tolerance than men, that the pains we go through while giving birth are worse than gunshot and stab wounds.. All come rushing to their minds right now watching us dish it, take it, and dish some more...

But as we crash down, and I feel your body shudders from the fall, literally trapped between a rock, and a hard place, the jolt travels through my body, our sore ribs taking the worst of it, as you reach up and grab my hair, and yanking hard, and twisting to the right.

"AAIIIIIEEEE!!" I scream in pain, a loud, sharp, GIRLY scream as you twist us and roll atop of me, my left leg now curled around the inside of your right, both bending instinctively and locking behind the knees, feeling you get the top position and continue to shake and dragggg my head against the dirt painfully; the dirty blonde locks getting.. REAL.. dirty...

But as you do, I shoot my hand up, forcing the padded palm of my hand into your lips in a hard SMACK, trying to grind them against your lips, and shove them into your teeth, my fingers spreading over your left cheek, but my thumb, I drive UP into your left nostril, tilting and I push the hard end of my finger nail into your nasal canal and claw at it hard, trying to twist your nose, to tilt your head slightly to the side, as I fire my left fist upwards as hard and fast as I can, aiming it towards your right eye socket!


Rebecca: As I roll you over onto your back I push to my knees, ready to release your hair.  Balling my hands into fists, I prepare to go for the ground-n-pound that Rodriguez used so successfully on Matthews.  But my head shots back, as your palm slams into my lips, and I can feel the coppery taste of blood as my inner lip cuts on my tooth.  Pain shoots through my nose as your finger drives up and claws.  My head is forced back as I scream.  My less-busty chest heaves again my cammo top as you force my head back.

Then my right eye explodes in pain as you fire a cracking punch at it, knocking me off you.  I fall to the dirt beside you, rolling off of you with the impact of the blow.  I groan, seeing stars.  Everything is dizzy and spinning as I roll in the dirt.  I groan and moan.  I end up on my belly, in the dirt, clutching my head and groaning.  

OWwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww


Emily: Crashing to the dirt, it's just.. ON.. No way around it... First me on top, then you, writhing and wrestling, your leg disengaging off my own and sending us rolling over, our chests heaving, growling and screaming, when I see your fists ball up and retreat, but only for my palm and fist to strike your face in the following hardcore sequence...

ONE: Set up..
TWO: BLAM!!!
THREE: PROFIT!!

And I watch your head snap back, your right eye shutting as you flop off me and roll twice, the boys screaming up, and I watch you writhe and slap and paw at the dirt, clearly disoriented, and I gasp sitting up, my tummy tucked in, abs poking like steel cords, glaring at you and I know it's my moment.. IT~IS....

And I turn to the side slipping my body over my back, and I drop my ass on yours, straddling your back, and I grin; Why not give the boys a parting gift, a last... Hoorah~~ before they leave camp?? And I reach down, wedging my thumbs under the back of your bikini top and I PULL it up in one strong movement, pushing it up against your armpits and over your head, trying to both humiliate AND distract you... Balling my fists, I start swinging them wildly at the back and side of your head in wild alternation of punches...

And even as I do, I hear it from up there; "TOLD YA IT'S PAYNE WHO'S LOSING HER TOP FIRST!! PAY UP ASSHOLE!!!"
~~ And if I could pause for a moment and turn to give them the middle finger, I would have... but... right now I have a pretty hard head to bash-in...


Rebecca: I eat dirt as you crash onto my back, grinding me down into the pit floor.  I feel your fingers grab at my sports bra, yanking it up over my 34b chest, peeling it off my sweaty tits, and pulling it up and tying it up in my arms.  I snarl and scream in rage as you hammer at my back, unleashing your fists as you swing blow after blow at my back and head.  I snarl and rage, trying to pull my arms free from the top as we struggle.

I hear them cheering and taunting, betting on who would lose their top.  I snarl, dirt filling my face as I shout.  I finally toss aside the top and then slam my elbow backwards, trying to ram it into your tit as hard as I can and buck hard in the same direction, trying to knock you away as I try to roll free of you, kicking up a cloud of dirt... rolling to my feet, panting and heaving, sweat covering my body and dirt clinging to my body.  Blood smears from my lips and a cut that opened up on my cheek from where your blow hit me, just below my eye

"Fuck... you.... bitch..." I pant.


Emily: I hammer down at you, screaming and growling, your head covered, my gloves padded, and THANK GOD for that, for if not, either your skull or my fists, if not both, would have been shattered by now. But you just prove how tough of a bitch you are, wiggling out of the top, proving that you would prefer victory to modesty, the same choice I would have made before throwing your arms back, slamming into my ribs and sending me falling off you.. We roll over and over, before pushing to all fours, breathing hard, panting, dizzied....

Bewildered glares in our eyes, and I look at your tanned body, bruised, your face bloodied, your right eye swollen almost shut with a small cut underneath it, your small, yet perfectly perky boobs hanging from your chest, dark nipples stiff...

"Fuck you TOO SLUT..." I sneer at you, slowly rising up to my feet.... My right arm coming up and wiping the stream of blood oozing from my split lips, staring at you... Circling one another, but clearly more sluggish, tired, and hurt than we did before...
Sarge glances at his stop watch, seeing the "12 minute" mark hit, and he cusses "GOD DAMN IT!!" And he flings the watch away, placing his hands on his hips, just imagining the ridicule he will get from his peers, who will taunt him forever that the toughest two in his class were... chicks....


Rebecca: I spit a glob of spittle and blood out of my mouth into the dirt as we circle, slower and more hurt now than before, but not less intense.  My chest heaves, and in any other circumstance I would be covering up...refusing to give these pigs a show.  But modesty went out the door a long time ago, and right now anything that distracts me from taking you down isn't a factor.  I snarl and close with you, bruised fists up, gloves streaked with sweat dirt and blood...

I fire a left then a right combo of punches aimed at your head... expecting you to block, but wanting to drive you back, before I twist and snap my left foot up, trying to twist to the side and drive the sole of my boot into the side of your thigh, hoping to send you sprawling from the kick, or at least knock you off balance to allow a follow up punch aimed at the side of your head to have a better chance of landing.  The Sarge may be disgusted, but the rest of the squad is screaming in appreciation for the brutal battle.  


Emily: My teeth clench, they are painted slight pink from the blood seeping off my lips coating them, but strangely enough, it's not making YOU look any less hot, just more intense, and I can't deny it, those swaying boobies in front of me distract me enough to allow you to come up close and sneak the first punch for my head, hitting my right temple, that I answer with a sharp shot to your left ribs, but your left fires at my right temple, and I grunt, stumbling back, kicking up wildly at your right shin, to slow you down, but you answer me almost instantly twisting and firing your boot to my right thigh, catching the bulging quad...

"AAAHHH!!" I cry in pain as my leg twist, and I drop to my right knee in pain...
"UNNNGGHHH!!!" But as your left fist cracks into my cheek, I grunt, my head snapping and I twist to my side, crashing into the dirt, landing on my left side, my head swimming....

Screams echo up above us, watching us trade blows like gladiators, and as you 'knock the Barbie down', a surge of your supporters, or rather, those who put their money on you roar up in the sky, as the searing sun beats on us hard, but I grunt in rage, curling my legs to my chest and I SHOOT out wildly, driving the soles of both boots into your left shin, trying to strike the bone hard, and take you off your feet to send you crashing to the dirt with me.


Rebecca: I let out a growl... not like of anger (though I am quite angry at this point) but more like the primal snarl of a predator that downed its prey.  I stalk after you, when your feet slam into my shin.  I scream in pain as you knock the leg out from me, dropping to my knees, then hands and knees in the dirt beside you.  I snarl and throw my body at yours... hurling myself at your torso, as my ankle throbs in pain from your vicious strike.

We crash in a pile of bodies, limbs flailing around.  My fists rain blows on your wildly but angrily, mostly trying to keep us in close and in a tangle while my ankle throbs... desperate to keep you from rising up over me and towering down above me while I was in pain on the dirt.  Even the mental image of you glowering down over me is too much to bear, and I use that anger to fuel my wild if angry punches.  Our legs kick and thrash as we tumble in the pit.

Emily: Crashing to the dirt, you lunge at me, and I am very well ready for you, or rather, WELCOMING to it, for I would rather not be anywhere but in the embrace of my enemy... Our arms wrap around the other, your chest crashing into mine sending me to my back, legs kicking up and I wrap my limbs around your waist, feeling your fists raining on me, and I tuck my head in, closing my eyes and I try to push my face close to yours to avoid the worst of the punches, while firing my own back...
Thrashing we go rolling, one on top, then the other, grunting and firing ~significantly weaker and winded~ punches at ribs, sides, backs, heads and faces when we can.

My legs locked around your waist, but not really in any kind of effective scissor, but mainly the hold to just keep us close, and give me a sense of where you are. Blow after blow, each causing air to rush from lips to churn the other's cheek and necks, and it' clear for me, that we are at the last stretch, the sprint, that there will be no reasoning, one of us will be carried on a stretcher, unconscious, and we are both spending the night in the infirmary....

But by GOD, I am going to beat this tough hellcat... My left hand shooting up suddenly, and I shove my thumb into your mouth, feeling your blood and saliva coating the finger, and I wedge the padded leather part between your teeth, making sure you can't bite on my finger ~thank God for those lifting gloves~ and I PUSH your head away from mine, my right hand going up and wrapping at the ~root~ of your ponytail, I twist your head to the side, and I start firing wild angry head-butts at your left temple and eye socket, hammering over and over at the same spot, trying to either stun you, or bruise your one working eye.

Rebecca: We struggle, rolling in the dirt, closely tangled together.  None of the watching squad mates, not even the biggest, sexist, asshole is making jokes.  Everyone is just focused.  Even Sarge, not that either of us notice, who watches down; a perceptive person might see a tiny hint of respect and awe in his eyes, despite his scowl and outward signs of contempt.  We struggle, and I land a few good blows, tagging you, but none quite stun you.  I manage to work you onto your back and I sigh... sitting up, planning on using my leverage to rain pain down on you....

I eye your heaving chest... instead of punches to the face, I decide slam my palm into your solar plexus.  But in the moment it takes me to formulate that plan, I feel your fingers shoot into my mouth, and twist my head back.  The grimy gloves and fingers cause me to gag yet again, and I snap my teeth down; I'm not a biter but if you shove your finger in there, you deserve it.  But you twist your fingers, wedging the glove in between my molars, so I can't clamp down hard and the sharpness of my teeth is dulled by the material.  I twist my head to the side, to rip my mouth free of your grasp, when your head snaps up and slams into my cheek.  I let out a groan and gasp as my body slumps from the power of the impact.

You just keep coming... slamming your head up over and over again, bashing my cheek and eye socket.  My already battered eye starts swelling up quickly.  I let out a low moan.  Everything seems dizzy.  BLAM another hammering shot connects, and I cough, gagging.  I twist and hurl my body to the side, ripping free of your hand and your weak scissors, as I roll in the dirt to get away from you... ending up on belly, pushing to my hands and knees... spitting up blood, more streaming from my cheek... moaning, the dirt seems to be spinning, as I hang there.  If I can just clear my head...

Emily: Locked on the dirt, we roll over and over again, grunting, our tummies rubbing, and I feel that ridiculous definition of your abs slapping and rubbing against my own. The bulging knots on your tummy just putting my own to shame, as you once again, roll this intense rolling war and get atop of me, if not for my quick wit ~or is it luck again? That I nail your mouth with my finger, and hammer your cheek and temple with my head. None of the blows as perfect as I imagined or hoped, but well, they are for sure effective!!

WHAM~~BAM~~BLAM~~
"GET HER BARBIE!!!"
SMACKK~~THUNKK~~WHACKKK~~
"COME ON BABE I GOT A MONTH'S RENT ON YOU!!!"

Fucking... PIGS.... I growl, but still, despite everything part of me is... flattered... Flattered that they are.. INTO this.. So much into it they are placing money.. HARD earned money on us... Even those who bet on you, I can't blame as you fall off and go sprawling to the dirt, dizzied and crawling away... My legs still around your waist as you slither out.. and I blink hard, feeling something warm dripping down my right eyebrow... A drip of blood...

And I reach up with my shaky finger, touching it and wincing in sharp pain, feeling the stinging cut on my eyebrow, and cussing under my breath... My legs untangling I come after you, stalking you, and I have so many options... SO many of them... But... I want to hear you... cry... I want to hear you give.....

And I just crawl on all fours, and DROP on your back, sliding my left leg up and around the top of your left arm, and I SIT on it, trapping your right arm, around the bicep area between my thigh and calf, my left hand going to your right wrist, and I PULL hard, twisting my arm around your own and turning you, half sideways, so that you are facing towards your right, and wedging your right wrist under my left armpit, your arms trapped, stretched in a clear washboard, I reach down with my gloved, right hand and I wrap it around your throat, gripping it....

I just softly apply some squeeze on your throat, not to choke but mostly to control your air, to limit your oxygen supply, and sap your strength, controlling one arm with my leg, the other with my own body and left arm, I hiss at you; "SAY IT....."

Rebecca: I cough... god, I want to go to bed, pass out, puke, curl up and sleep forever, anything but feel the pain I feel now.  My head swims, making me nauseous.  Blood falls from various cuts on my head.... plop, plop, plop, forming little pools in the dirt... drool mixing with it as I try to figure out which way is up.  My belly heaves.  I feel a pressure as you crawl atop me... wrapping around me from practically every angle.

You feel like an octopus or a squid, limbs everywhere as you tie up my arms, squeezing and pulling, stretching my body painfully.  Your hand squeezes my neck as I cough and sputter, a bubble of bloody spit forming in my mouth.  I hear you hiss the words "SAY IT" like an order... I let out a moan, I want to do anything that makes this all end... but that crazy part of my mind that thinks I can win is somehow still in control.

"Ugggggh ouuuuuhhhhhhh uggggghhhhhh"

I cough, and form actual words finally:  "fuck... you"

Emily: "Ooooooohhh!!" The cry comes out from above of us, turning my already blood-shot ears even redder, as I tilt my head back, certainly NOT believing the tenacity of this bitch.....
A smirk comes to my lips, shaking my head right and left, as I see Sarge's face look at me, clearly pissed, and he says; "That's enough Private Sears!!" But I just stick my tongue out, pretending I'm licking the blood off my lips and I shake my head negatively side to side;

"I SAID THAT'S ENOUGH!! Rogers!! Blunt!! Diego!! Get in there.. This bout is over!!" He barks out...
But a mutual, collective moan from the privates around him, even those that he called out shifting right and left, but not really making a move towards the pit, least of all INTO it just his eyes flaring with sparks flying off them...
~~Thanks boys.. you gave me all the time I really need....

For in these few seconds, I just turn to you, looking at your pretty blue eyes, and part of me feels sorry, really, I am a BITCH to demand this off you, but I know if you were in my place, you would have stopped at nothing to hear the same words from me.. I've EARNT them damn it...

And I tilt my body more to the left, cracking more 'wrench' on your shoulders, both with my left leg around your left shoulder, and my left arm around your right, tilting your body even more degrees and pouring incredible pressure on your shoulder sockets, I say in a voice that you, and they; can hear; "If that's what you want hunni, I'll give you my number, call me, but right now..."

I ball my right hand in a tight fist and I FIRE it into your mouth, mashing those ~already~ bleeding lips into your teeth hard, and knocking your head back as I hiss; "Right now... You fucking SAY it..."


Rebecca: "FUCK YOU!" I shout back more defiantly as my head starts to clear.  I hear the Sarge shouting things and the squad shifting around... it is the one and only time they have not jumped to obedience at his whistle.  I snarl, blood dripping from my lips, and a bloody spray of foam bursting from my lips.  

You lean back and add to the pressure... I scream in agony.  My shoulders feel like they are being torn apart.  I may be defiant, but no amount of defiance could prevent the hold tearing the screams of agony from my body.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE" I shriek.

Then BLAM your fist collides with my face, cracking off my lips and nose.  My head snaps back, and my eyes roll in my head.  Even more blood drips as your blow opens up the cut even worse.  I let out a low moan of pain, and the defiant alpha part of my brain curls up and is beaten into submission by the rest of my mind, which wants nothing more than to make this end.  As that alpha-cat portion of my personality is taken out back and beaten with sticks (or headbutts?) My mouth opens and I let out a gurgling, gasping moan of "I GIVE!!!!!!"


Emily: My lips curl up evilly... Ok, I feel bad... TERRIBLE... But only in a tiny tiny part of me.. The part that just remembers how much I admire and respect you... in every way.. But the vast majority of my psyche is just... in a RUSH.. a rush for victory, for settling that burning question that raged throughout our entire training to who is better, who is TOUGHER.... And as your voice ring in my ears, the gurgling, squeaky, weak surrender, my head tosses back and I practically purrrrr in delight... pushing up and off my knee, releasing the pinch I had on your left shoulder...

My left arm releasing your right arm and I just.. rudely smack the back of your head flopping you over, as a RUCCUS erupts above us... And why not??  We gave them the toughest, rowdiest, hardest fight of the entire day... And the sight of your bare boobies to top that... They certainly can't complain... and I drop to my left side, watching you sob and curl up, but to add insult to injury, I curl my left leg and PUSH the sole of my boot against your face and roughly JERK you away, sending you rolling further from me, as I push up to my feet, unsteady, soaked, bloodied and bruised... But I still pump my right fist up in the air victoriously...

Rebecca: I moan, chewing dirt as I lay there, sobbing and in agony... hating myself for being so weak as to submit, but having no other choice.  The pain... the pain was just too much.  My arms still feel on fire... part of me feels broken, damaged.  I hear the crowd cheering over us, but for you, not for me.  I let out a low moan of agony as I start to punch the pit floor, when your boots push into my face, sending me rolling in the dirt.  I roll onto my back.  

The sky above is so pretty.  That is the last thought I have as I pass out.  Completely unconscious, my topless, battered, drooling bloody body is dragged out of the pit by a few of my squad mates, at least one of whom manages to some very significant feels as he "helps" me out of the pit, while the rest celebrate your win.  Sarge doesn't say anything, but meets your gaze, eye to eye.  As you make it out of the pit, the rest of the squad is screaming your name... one lifts you onto his shoulders and carries you around, as you clearly put on the fight of the day.  

I don't register any of this, however, as I am "helped" to the infirmary, with some BS story about dehydration and exhaustion that the doctors know is a lie, but since the fights are "unofficial" everyone looks the other way.  I wake up later in the day... in bed, covered to my neck in a sheet, resting as comfortably as they can.  

A Lieutenant stands over me, asking me to fill out some paperwork about the "unusual nature of the training class" which clearly contains confidentiality agreements. Someone is worried our battle could reflect badly, and is covering their ass.  Fine.  I scrawl my signature.  I'm not about to go bitching... I may have lost, but I don't cry and I certainly don't betray my unit.  The wimpy little LT seems very relieved, and manages to disappear moments later.  Fuck bureaucrats.  


Emily: The next two days were quite different.... It's just freakishly weird how the euphoria and rush of victory dwindled as the pain set in, and the guilt of what I did to you.. Did you I have to take it that far?? You certainly did not deserve that... Beating you in a fight is one thing, but... humiliating you.. Exposing you to that... Making you scream your obvious surrender when I was in full control, kicking your face.... Come on Emily... you are better than that ~~ or at least I thought I was...

I stopped at the infirmary four times over these two days... And the Sarge made sure we are admitted to two different areas, so that he would not risk any sort of incidents in. He wanted to cover his ass, and news of a 'topless' incident in his unit was already the talk of everyone in camp... But, screw that asshole, he had it coming... He wanted to treat his unit like prize battle dogs, and us like real bitches?? Fine, that's what he gets....

The problem is, I could not really bring myself to face you.. Even as I stayed up in my bed, tossing and turning, part from pain, but mostly from guilt and concern over you... I just could not bring myself to face you...But deep inside, a burning hot feeling in my gut, told me that this was not the last I am to see, or hear from Private Payne.

The End . . . for now

[jessicasinger]

Wow what a vicious affair, very impressed with both fighters

[ThePurpleVixen]

Wow...just...wow... that was....amazing!!!

You two are awesome!!!!

Poor Becca... I really thought she was going to get you, Emily.

Guess it falls to me to save the pride of brunettes and take you down, Emily.

Tough luck for the brunettes, then.

[~*M*~]

Wow...just...wow... that was....amazing!!!

You two are awesome!!!!

Poor Becca... I really thought she was going to get you, Emily.

Guess it falls to me to save the pride of brunettes and take you down, Emily.

Tough luck for the brunettes, then.

Hey! On which side are you!?!? ò_ó

On the purple side clearly

And Talia, you know you're not one to talk about pride, certainly not in the ~saving it~ capacity

[tomboy999999]

What can I say WOW - what a fight , and what superb description.

[Ewa S]

Great concept, great writing, and great fighting as always ^^

Thanks for sharing another fabulous log with us Emily <3

[~*M*~]

~curtsies~

Thanks you guys, but that's only half me, and half my amazing partner in crime, Rebecca!!

Oi! Ewa, when are we going to do you know what ~evil grins~

[Ewa S]

You know what?? It might happen preetttyyyyy soon ;-)

Early next week soon ^^

[~*M*~]

You know what?? It might happen preetttyyyyy soon ;-)

Early next week soon ^^

*no to take away the spotlight from this amazing fight and the hugely talented fighters*
Another awesome fight to come !
This wait is getting more desperate than that for the next Game of Thrones season

haha!! I am sure I would have some awesome fights before next April. Would suck otherwise, but there is plenty of talent around, so I'm not worried. Although, who cares about GoT after Tywin's demise ~sniff~

[The BIG E]

As someone from the Air Force, I loved this fight.

Being the total opposite to that Sergeant Major, Privates, You done a very good job! *salute*

[~*M*~]

As someone from the Air Force, I loved this fight.

Being the total opposite to that Sergeant Major, Privates, You done a very good job! *salute*

~~ Stands attention and salutes ~~

[Rebecca P]

So I probably should have said this earlier, but I am very grateful to M for this fantastic fight.  She's an amazing opponent who makes every match memorable, win or lose.  She's amazing.

[Anna the Marine Chick]

Just read the fight log.... WOW!!! Great fight for both Emily and Rebecca! But Army girls can't fight... Now Marines... We know how to fight!!!

[~*M*~]

Just read the fight log.... WOW!!! Great fight for both Emily and Rebecca! But Army girls can't fight... Now Marines... We know how to fight!!!

Pffuuufff to that!! You better go float your plastic duckies elsewhere Mz. ~Chick~ and leave the real fighting for us, or else!!

[catfightwrestlergurl]

Very very detailed, very vicious and very interesting. Kudos to both.