FreeCatFights
General Category => Catfight , Boxing & Wrestling Stories => Series => Topic started by: sinclairfan on April 28, 2022, 01:06:32 PM
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Setting: Raintree County, SE Indiana, near the Kentucky border
Dramatis Personae
Krista, a 20 -year old daughter of a Democratic family, newly ascendant as the beneficiaries of Postmaster patronage from the 1844 election of President Polk
Bonnie, a 19-year old daughter of a Whig family, displaced from their Postmaster responsibilities by the surprise defeat of Henry Clay
The two women are exchanging records, keys, and podtal lockboxes in advance of the March 4 inauguration of President-Elect Polk.
They are in an empty postal sorting room.
K: Hello. I'm Krista. I hope we can conduct our business as civilly as possible.
B: Bonnie. [sneering] A pleasure, I'm sure. We ... are .... the gentler sex. Or so they say, right?
K: I've not heard that. But then again, I've spent the past few years at Transylvania College .... in Kentucky ....
B: I'm fully aware of where Transylvania College is .... you needn't brag to me about your modern education.....
K: I didn't realize I was bragging ... may I ask .... are you educated yourself?
B: I'll have you know .... I'm studying law with the Raintree County judge.
K: Who's bragging now?
B: I was merely responding to your query.
K: Our conversation has begun on a .... combative .... foot.
B: Does that .... bother .... you?
K: On the contrary .... you seem to quite enjoy it.
B: The conversation? Or the ... combat?
K: Perhaps before this meeting is over .... we will know.
B: Perhaps. Shall we proceed with the meeting, then?
K: Yes .... Let's.
To be continued.....
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As Bonnie and Krista worked in silence at the long wooden table, placing keys in lock boxes and hand-checking paper postal ledgers, they were secretly excited by how explicit their brief introductory sentence had been on the topic if female combat.
It had been a little over a year since Bonnie had had a run-in at a horse barn with a bully older girl from at a horse auction. Bonnie had returned home upset and reported the incident to her aunt. Ever sensitive to affronts to the politically-connected family, the aunt had demanded to Bonnie: "Put on a dress and let down your hair--we're taking a coach to that girl's mother house to demand satisfaction, with fists, between you and that barbaric girl." As Bonnie got dressed and let her long blonde hair down, she replayed the conversation over and over in her head.
Had she heard correctly? Was she about to fistfight another girl? With her aunt watching? Why in a dress? Why with hair down? Wouldn't her hair be even more of a target for her opponent's claws? Growing up, when tensions boiled over between girls, hairpulling was the inevitable result. Bonnie had wondered, what happened between girls whose disputes escalated beyond hairpulling? Did they fight like men, with fists? Didn't it hurt a girl's hand to strike another woman's face with a fist? How was it possible to perform the next morning's farm chores? Bonnie's apprehensions grew as the coach approached her enemy's large farmhouse.
Bonnie watched from the coach as her aunt banged on the door and demanded to see the rival girl's mother, to negotiate terms. The girl's mother claimed her daughter wasn't home, but Bonnie could see her rival peaking out from an upstairs bedroom window. Who was afraid for the fight to happen? The girl? Or the mother? Had the bully girl's impetuous behavior gotten into fights before? Were the trying to avoid a bad outcome?
The aunt walked back to the coach madder than a hornet. "She claims she wants to fight, but that the house's men will be on from the fields in fifteen minutes and will be expecting dinner. No fight today, Bonnie." Bonnie's heart sank. Her curiosity of what it was like to be in a girlfight had been cruelly piqued. But now it would be unrequited.
Masturbating in bed that night, Bonnie had resolved that the next time an opportunity for a girlfight happened, she would not be similarly disappointed.
Was today that day?
Was Krista that woman?
*****************************
Krista, similarly, was having difficult concentrating on the work at hand, unable to suppress thoughts of the contentious conversation with her political opponent.
At Transylvania, Krista had read in translation the work of the Italian Renaissance poet Ariosto. His epic poem, "Orlando Furioso" had an episode of a duel between two women knights disguised as men (one was named Marfisa; Krista could not recall presently the name of the other). The fight had started with weapons, but quickly degenerated to hand-to-hand combat, which caused each woman duellist to instantly recognize the female identity of the other.
Because men fight with weapons. Both physical: swords, guns, cannons. And constructs: ballots, laws, courts (that bitch Bonnie is reading law? how un-womanly; how uncouth).
But women fight with hands.
Ever since reading Ariosto, Krista had wanted to put this new knowledge into practical use. She wanted to fight another woman hand to hand. She masturbated ceaselessly to the thought of being in an actual hand to hand fight.
Was Bonnie that woman?
Was to day that day?
*************************
Krista undid her hair.
Bonnie noticed, and did the same.
Both women realized they were going to fight after their postal work was done.
***************************
Their pussies were drenched.
To be continued........
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Kirsta and Bonnie were each surprised at the length and thickness of each others' blonde hair once their hairpins had been released. They found themselves looking up from their Postmaster clerical task to survey the contours of each others' blonde mane--how it was parted down the middle, the tint of blondeness, the natural waviness each had in different variations.
Each wanted to pull on the others' hair. The could hold no tongue no longer. But rather than stating the true jealous feelings of their hearts, the began sniping at the topic that had brought them together in the room this morning.
Their party differences in the recent election.
B: Your family will benefit.... financially .... from the National Road which was the creation of Senator Clay.
K: I disagree. The PEOPLE will benefit. As the did for the glorious decade of the great Andrew Jackson and Mr Van Buren.
B: [Bonnie had never yet met a woman so prepared to defend political positions. How did a woman as smart as Krista possess such a wise mind .... and a sharp tongue?] You sharp tongue must have determined your un-married status. No husband would long tolerate such an un-Biblical bride.
K: [Did she just go there? thought a flabbergasted Krista to herself. The two most un-polite topics for public conversation: suitors, and religion. She hardly knew which to address firstly.] Excuse me? Such un-ladylike delicateness. But since you ask. I have suitors both in Raintree County, AND at school in Kentucky. Quite superior in quantity ... AND quality .... to yours.
B: [This bitch protests too much about bragging about her Transylvania education--she reflexively brings it up at every opportunity.] A judge of lady-like virtues .... who brags about her suitors. I shall punch that disputatious mouth with my fists. [Bonnie surprises herself at verbalizing her deepest secret thoughts.]
K: [Krista's adrenaline pulses at the mention of the word fist. Finally a hand-to-hand fighting opportunity. She stands up across the table from Bonnie.] I see no one here stopping you from using your fist on me. I shall gladly take up your testing of my seriousness.
B: [Bonnie briefly considers de-escalating the surpringly personal dispute, but cannot stand the body language of the braggart Krista looming dominatly above her, like an alpha stud horse in a pen lording it over the mares. She stands. On the table separates the two women.] I shall gladly take you down a peg.
K: If we start, I will not stop until we finish.
B: Those terms are acceptable to me. In fact, I welcome them.
The women look to Krista's left and Bonnie's right--a long empty wood floor over twenty feet square.
Plenty of room to fight.
They stride over to the empty floor.
Neither can believe they are about to have their first fight.
To be continued.....
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Don’t keep us waiting
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Although neither woman had yet had the opportunity to unleash physical violence on a rival, neither were strangers to the escalation beyond words of physical disputes.
The political (and moral and philosophical) Godfather of Krista's Deomcratic family was Old Hickory himself, Andrew Jackson, still allive-and-kicking in his late 70s at the Hermitage in Tennessee, venerated in retirement by a steady stream of visitors. Jackson had duelled with several political and personal enemies in his youth, and hated Bonnie's family's hero, Senator Clay, with a passion.
Additionally, 1840s Southeast Indiana was only a generation removed from the French-and-Indian frontier Vincennes culture, where nighttime kidnappings were a semi-regular occurrence, and pioneers went to bed with a loaded shotgun under their pillow.
Bonnie's aunt, who had brought Bonnie in a dress to fistfight a bullying classmate, was a product of this frontier culture, and fighting to defend honor or to make a social point was second nature.
It was inevitable both Krista would need to get a first fight experience under their belt. Might as well do it right here .... right now.... against each other.
B: I'll mark you up with stripes so that your Transylvania suitors will see your marked-up bosom when you freely show it to them.
K: Then I shall do the same to your face--since your bosom is so rarely seen.
B: The first man to see my bosom will be my husband on my wedding night. And I will be proud to explain any strips you leave in my face. I'll explain it came the day I gave a thrashing to a Jackson Democrat wench.
K: [Krista steps into Bonnie's face.] Did you just call me a wench? If so .... I demand you retract it.
B: Make me retract it .... wench.
To be continued.....
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Krista and Bonnie were nose to nose, and she appeared to be an inch or two taller than her rival, although it was clear this was just because her heeled riding boots were somewhat higher than her enemy's. Both women knew this would be a double-edged sword if the women decided to begin to fight in their boots, as Krista would be able to punch down at Bonnie, but her balance would also be more precarious if the two women clinched. Both women's brains were calculating the pro's and con's of fighting fully booted, or fighting bare-footed. Candidly, that was the only reason the two were not already brawling. Their hate for each other was cemented.
Krista's and Bonnie's breasts were pressed together, and Krista felt the inadequacy of her clearly smaller chest. At Transylvania, she had seen some of her fellow dorm-mates topless in the showers, and almost all had larger bosoms than her. She had also engaged in playful bourbon-fueled show-me-yours-and-I'll-show-you-mine games with suitors, who were inevitably incapable of hiding their disappointment at the modesty of her chest. The game then inevitably proceeded to between her legs, where the outcome was more fulfilling to the male, who appreciated her large labia and full bush.
Bonnie, too, noted her own much fuller and developed rack, and pressed hard on Krista's chest with her own.
> Tiny tits.
to be continued
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Despite the modestness of early Victorian Indiana women's wear, Bonnie was not unenlightened about the above-averageness of her bust. Her aunt had shown her how to secure from nearby Cincinnati the limited range of plus-size bra's available on the frontier, and how to wash and dry them delicately so as to ensure a long life span, and minimize the need for frequent, inconvenient replacement orders from upstream the Ohio River.
Bonnie was wearing one of those precious bras now. She was praying to the Blessed Virgin that it wouldn't get destroyed in her impending brawl with Krista. A long braless ride back home wiyh be uncomfortable.
Why did frontier life need to be so hard on women?
She knew she was larger down there from her peers from summers of topless swimming in a nearby, secret trysting place--a half-pond/ half-swamp where unmarried 20-somethings would go to swim. And look for trouble with each other.
The boys would go to smoke or fight for money.
The girls would go to get noticed by the boys.
Bonnie had once been tricked into visiting, and had subsequently avoided it. Until her breasts started growing in size, and she sought to compare herself to other young women. Furtive glances confirmed to herself that she was larger than them. And it made them jealous. And she loved it.
To compensate, the other girls would give themselves to the boys behind the bushes.
But that just increased the shame of the smaller girls.
And the glee of Bonnie. She felt pride in her large breasts. And in lording it over the other girls.
She was lording it over Krista now. And both knew it.
To be continued.....
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Bonnie's "Tiny tits" insult immediately removed the two women adversaries' attention from the slippery riding boots to their chests. Both continued jamming their chests into each other, and escalated until their booth started to slip and slide in the hardwood postal sorting room floor. In order to keep from losing balance and falling, they grabbed onto each others' linen dresses at the shoulders, accidentally pinching flesh as the did so.
> You Clay-loving bitch, keep your bitch paws off of me.
> I shall do nothing of the sort, Jackson wench. I intend to thrash you and send you home on a stretcher.
> I'm 5 times the Amazon you are, assuming you even know what one is, you un-educated simpleton.
> Pffft, 'simpleton', you Jackson supporters are all the same, dripping with contempt for the Common Man you claim to champion.
> The only Common Man you will ever know, Bonnie, is the sex-crazed country drunk who marries you for those oversized cow utters. Uou should be grateful I don't rip them off right here.
> I dare you to try. Let me make it easy for you wench. [Fearing imminent danger to her expensive bra, Bonnie pulls down her dress, and carefully undoes her bra, setting it down carefully on the table where the 2 women had angrily conducted Postmadter business. Bonnie is now topless, in only panties and riding boots.] Set your hands on them, bitch. If you dare. So I can thrash your face.
> Your idle threats don't scare me, Clay Whore. [Krista reaches out and begins mauling Bonnie's breasts, more aggressively than any woman expected. Krista's soft hand surprise Bonnie.]
> Such soft hands. You've never performed farm chores your entire life. I should have expected nothing less from a Jackson wench.
> When does my thrashing start, Clay Whore?
> Presently.
Bonnie closes her fist and strikes Krista hard on the face.
To be continued...
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Just as Bonnie was erotically aroused by the feel of Krista's hands on her bosom, so was Krista aroused the the feel of Bonnie's hand on her face.
This was, at last, the womanly hand-to-hand combat she had pined for since reading Ariosto Canto XXVII and Spenser Book V at Transylvania. Two spiteful, hateful women lashing out at each other with hands and fists.
Krista formed a backhand and lashed out at Bonnie, smacking her rival hard in the cheek. Bonnie opened her own fist in response and retaliated with a hard box on the ear. Krista's head felt stinging and ringing. She thought back to summer skinny-dipping in the Vincennes River, of nude boys climbing on top of her, kissing her face, and feeling her protruding vagina lips. The boys always slapped her behind, mumbling nonsense about Venus and Helen. She couldn't tell if they liked her, or if they were again disappointed by her undersized chest.
Bonnie was excited to be thrashing her Jackson Democrat rival, throwing her first actual punches in an actual girlfight. She could hardly contain the erotic excitement growing in her hardening breasts. She yearned to masturbate her soaking pussy to get erotic relief. She slid out of her panties, her last remaining clothic article now but for her boots.
She kicked her enemy Krista hard in the shins with those boots.
> You bitch, I'll kill you.
> Do it, and you'll be hanging within a week above the Vincennes River.
> How? Who will know what I've done?
Both women suddenly sense their alone-ness.
It arouses them sexually. Even moreso than they're aroused already.
To be continued.....
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After getting struck full force in the face, Krista thought back to summer afternoons in the Vincennes River swamp area. Usually boys, but sometines girls, would challenge Krista to "waterfight" in the swamp. The two combatants would go back and forth, tossing each other in the water, letting out sexual tension in one of the few ways allowed by Victorian-Great Awakening Midwest society.
After "waterfighting" with another girl, Krista would always find herself masturbating that night in bed to the thought of fighting that same girl, but on land.
Now she was actually fighting another blonde, the Whig-supporting Bonnie. She had taken Bonnie's best shot head-on, and was none the worse for wear. Almost like a waterfight tackle.
What if two women exchanged blows back and forth two score times and were still standing. What if their hatred for each other multiplied, and yet both were willing to exchange some more?
> Weak bitch.
> Slut whore.
> God-less wench.
> Stop using that word.
> Make me stop using it.
> I intend to. By knocking out your teeth.
> You are incapable of doing anything of the kind.
> Underestimate me.
To be continued.....
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Krista closed her fist, and landed repeated blows on Bonnie's face. Just as in "waterfights" with other girls, growing up in the Raintree County swamp and lake, Krista recalled tackling other girls full force, and getting tackled full force, and the fight still continuing, so she similarly now found that Bonnie and herself continued to strike full force even after inflicting, and absorbing, direct punches to their faces. To be sure, their faces were showing welts, similar to what would develop after a farm equipment accident or a fall from a horse.
But this was not like a fight at the lake between Raintree County boys, or, say, between male farmhands, where a single blow to the jaw would send one of the men face-first spread-eagle onto the ground. No, after exchanging over 20 punches each, Krista and Bonnie were both defiantly standing, angrily punching each other.
Bonnie, too, was recalling a summer lakeside "waterfight" of her own. A girl who perceived Bonnie as a romantic rival had lured Bonnie into what she expected would be a juvenile, playful waterfight. The other boys and girls watched and cheered on the girls for the first 30 seconds of the fights, but then got distracted in other surrounding naked flirtatious activities, leaving Bonnie and her rival to splash in privacy. At which point the nature of the skirmish turned on a dime from playful to vicious. Under the cover of the lake's murky waters, Bonnie's rival became pinching and tugging at Bonnie's exposed bare breasts. The pain was unpleasant, and Bonnie at first attributed the violence to accidental exuberance by her riled-up opponent. After a half-minute of pinching however, Bonnie panicked and realized she was under attack from a motivated enemy. Her only choice was retaliation, which she pursued by digging her claws into her opponent's naked loins. Her opponent screeched in protest, which encouraged Bonnie to press her attack even deeper. Bonnie and the girl's school chums assumed Bonnie and the girl were playfully wrestling, but the fight had actually turned deadly serious.
Bonnie loved it, or the excitment of it, and masturbated to it furiously later that night.
And, similarly, this morning (or, was it mid-day yet? this fight with Krista had been going on for awhile now), Bonnie now needed to defend with offense. Krista blows to her face were painful and humiliating. And infuriating.
So, she pulled Krista's dishevelled dress the remainder of the way down, exposing Krista's soaking pussy lips.
And dug her left hand in, claws exposed, just as she had done at the summertime "waterfight" with her rival.
And elicited the same familiar screech as she had that bygone summer day.
Good, it was working.
> I hate you, bitch.
> I'll thrash you, whore.
To be continued.....
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Although both women had strong hands toughened by a youthful upbringing on the Indiana frontier (Bonnie more than Krista, although Krista was certainly no wallflower--her Transylvania enrollment was more an aspirational leap to escape the frontier than a symptom that she had already done so), their knuckles were feeling the effect of landing 10 minutes of direct blows on each others' bony foreheads, jaws, and cheekbones. As the adrenaline rush from their commencing a no-rules brawl dissapated, each felt agonizing sharp pains coursing through their fingers and joints. Both felt a need to rest and assess, lest a badly-timed broken bone gave herself an unrecoverable disadvantage in their primal contest.
Simultaneously and almost on cue, each women leapt at each others' unkempt thick blonde hair, tearing and ripping chunks from the very roots, dropping it onto the postal office sorting floor, then returning to the source for more follical victims.
Youthful, summertime, lakeside "waterfights" seldom devolved into catty hairpulling. Water-soaked hair made even the most generously endowed opponents hair an uninviting target once it had been dunked into and coated with the lake's slimy, muddy waters. It became slick and almost impossible to grip, so attempting to control an opponent by her hair in a "waterfight" was a futile effort.
Not so a hairpulling battle on dry land. Both women were immediately mutually successful in dragging her enemy's entire body to the ground, and Krista and Bonnie were now naked (except for their riding boots) and tangled on the ground, now afraid to release their grip on each others' hair. Their sweaty bodies were in full contact with each other. They realized how humid and hot it was inside the postal sorting building, the mid-day sun heating it to discomfort.
They began kicking anywhere they could with their riding boots.
> I intend to kick your teeth out, Clay whore.
> I intend to smash your nose so Transylvania suitors will turn to stone from your Medusa visage.
> Your learning is superficial and dime-store, Clay whore.
> More genuine than your fake Jackson bona fide's.
> Your study of law and Latin has muddled your mind, Bonnie.
> [Why did she call me by my first name?] Surrender before I injure you permanently, Krista. Make no mistake, I have no compunction doing so .... Krista.
> Nor are there any limits on the hate I harbor for you. I'll maim you if you force me to .... Bonnie.
Whether it was the competiveness and excitement of the girlfight,
the danger of the aloneness,
the escalation of the threats,
the stakes of the fight,
the hot-house environment,
the full-body rubbing,
or the use of Christian names,
which was raising the sexual arousal of both women, none of us will ever know.
But both women stopped speaking. So as not to betray their pre-orgasm voices.
Both were mortified that they were about to cum in front of their enemy.
To be continued.....
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Krista partially mounted Bonnie on the postal sorting floor, and had a flashback to a summertime "waterfight" where she had wrestled a male opponent onto the shallow lake shoreline and had rubbed her aroused loins onto his erect cock. She enjoyed the sensation, and would have continued mounting him, but they were interrupted by their companions that day. Krista took that memory to a Transylvania bedroom show-me-yours-and-I'll-show-you-mine game, where help with homework became a playful wrestling/mounting game, which failed to proceed as Krista would have preferred only when her extensive hair between our legs became an object of observation for the boy.
And .... when he sensed that the game was no longer playful, but passionate.
First children in Raintree County in the 1840s often arrived just seven months after the wedding day. "I guess they just couldn't wait," was the knowing observation of the village elders. But Krista's experience was the opposite--that boys at the summer lakeside, and in Transylvanian dorm rooms, had an almost Job-ian patience, never wanted to proceed the playful waterfight wrestling or the dorm room looking and light touching.
The girl waterfights were the opposite. And girl waterfight which lasted past the original bear-hug jostling inevitably proceeded to grabbing and clutching the most intimate body parts. A watrrfight with a girl descended from playful to painful, and girls with grudges always ended up pairing up with each other by the lake. And if the match moved onto the shallow shoreline, each girl always tries to assert a mounting dominance over the other.
Krista and Bonnie were on the ground now for the first time in their fight, and each was attempting to mount the other, pulling hair and locking legs in a desperate attempt for at least temporary dominance.
To be continued....
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Krista and Bonnie sat on the butts, faced each other, opened their legs to each other, and tilted backwards, supporting themselved with their arms. They rocked back and forth, in a position and motion they had seen girl-girl summertime waterfighters pursue onshore in Raintree County, quite different from the prone position, mounted or side-by-side, assumed by boy-girl waterfight "opponents".
Bonnie recalled another summertime memory--the afternoon a romantic rival came to the lake looking for Bonnie to challenge her to a waterfight--or to humiliate her for not accepting the challenge. There was no rural Hoosier taboo lower than not accepting a challenge to fight from a similarly-sized opponent.
Bonnie had accepted the challenge once her opponent called her out by name.
Bonnie and Krista now called out each other.
Krista.
Bonnie.
Krista.
Bonnie.
Fight me, Krista.
All while staring at each other, masturbating their own erect breasts.
And cumming while scissoring with each other.
oooommmmmmm aaaaaaa
mmmmmyyeesssss ssssaaaaaa
Let's finish fighting.
Let's keep doing this first.
Yes, let's. This feels good.
To be continued....
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The mood between Bonnie and Krista abruptly shifts from anger to arousal to satiation to anger (again), as each feels duped by the other for engaging in the act they have just shared on the postal sorting room floor. Bonnie lashes out first.
> Jackson hypocrite. No wonder you've chosen none of your suitors--you harbor sinful desires for women.
> How dare you speak to me of desire for women--the lowest, drunkest Transylvania rake ne'er begged for carresses from me like you did from me just now.
> I beg for nothing from you, Jackson wench.
> Nor shall you receive it anyways, Clay Whore!
> Your protests are empty, Krista. I felt your desire for my embrace, the passion of your kisses.
> Those kisses were based on posturing and trickery, Bonnie.
The women noticed they have returned to calling each other by their Christian names, the classic summertime waterfight "calling out" method when a confrontation will turn physical. And for which Hoosier frontier rules all no face-saving backing down.
The women realize the carresses are over and they are returning to fighting.
Krista's "posturing" word lingers in the air. The women each hope that their physical threats are not interpreted as posturing. They are deadly serious. Their hate for each other is genuine.
And now they have another causus belli--another greivance for each others' existence.
Each sees the other as a temptress to sin. A grave offense in the Great Awakening 1840s Midwest.
> I hate you, Krista.
> I hate you, Bonnie.
The women resume a hairpulling catball, tearing out hair in handfulls.
To be continued.....
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As Bonnie rolled on the floor with Krista, kissing and carressing having been banished from the room and replaced with clutching and grabbing, Bonnie was surprised to find her sexual arousal not abating in the least.
On the contrary, she found it reasserting its hold on her body. Her body sought sexual release as hungrily as it had as minutes ago when Krista was kissing Bonnie on the mouth, neck and breasts.
In fact, her desire was even more possessive of her thoughts and urges.
Bonnie thought back to the summertime waterfight (by name: "You!!!! Bonnie!!!") call-out from the stranger girl with whom she shared a mutual flirtation with a boy. Her first feelings in that confrontation, both before and after it became physical, was of fear and trepidation. And her face and torso surely felt the wrath of the jealous rival's slaps and punches.
But throught that skirmish, Bonnie also felt overwhelming arousal. At first, she thought, it had been stirred up by the memory of the boy over whose attention the two girls were competing. She had masturbated all night after that fight to the thought of flirting and dancing with the boy.
But, now, Bonnie wondered ..... what if her arousal that afternoon with the rival girl was from the fight .... not the boy.
What if her arousal this day with Krista wasn't from kissing Krista, but was from .... fighting her.
What if Bonnie's ability, to reach climax for the first time from other than her own touch and thoughts, was due to the more violent nature of this fight. For this fight wasn't a waterfight, where water and sand cushioned every fall. This was a violent fight on a hardwood floor.
Naked, except for riding boots.
Bonnie remembered the riding points. But Krista must have remembered first.
Since Krista mule-kicked Bonnie in her back with the hard heels of the riding boots. Bonnie felt excruciating pain.
And even more intense pleasure. Surprising pleasure. Sexual pleasure.
> You can't kick any harder than that, Krista?
> Show me how YOU kick, Bonnie.
Bonnie sits back and lashes out with a hard heel-kick to Krista's belly.
Krista must be a poker player. For she hids two feelings wiyh wash over her.
Pain.
And pleasure. Sexual pleasure.
Both women are close to orgasm.
To be continued....
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Bonnie and Krista roll into a 69-style position, except with their faces buried into each others' riding boots, rather than in each others' crotches. They are attemting to squeeze and each others's head and faces with their boots, sometimes succeeding and eliciting grunts of agony.
Krista is actually familiar with the phrase '69'. At Transylvania College, playful games of show-me-yours-and-I'll-show-you-mine on dorm beds would proceed to kisding and fondling in the 69 position. It had the great benefit that the sexually inexperienced, but hot-to-trot, college men (boys, really; but treated as men) could realease their pent up aggression and tension on a willing coed, with no risk of a reputation-ruining pregnancy, an unthinkable scandal in still-Puritanical America. Krista's breasts had always been erotic, and she had successfully achieved orgasm at times on her partner by rubbing her nipples on hips and frontier-hardened abs.
Krista was doing the same now with her enemy Bonnie. Her arousal was frantic and uncontrollable, and she sought relief, between headkicks, on Bonnie's firm torso. The prickly bristleness on Bonnie's pussy hair was an erotic tactile sensation on Krista's breasts. It reminded her of stolen nighttime breast kisses from bearded Transylvania professors .... or naughty farmhands .... or travelling frontier merchants. She rubbed herself furiously on Bonnie.
Bonnie, too, was experiencing frenzied arousal. The power of her boots reminded her of her first time alone tending horses, wearing full workboots. And workgloves.
She would form a fist with both pigskin workgloves on, picturing herself in a fistfight with another farmgirl, alone in a haybarn, throwing haymakers (is that why they're called that?), trying to permanently disfigure each others' feminine faces.
The sound of Krista coming throws Bonnie over the top, like a haybail being tossed into a wagon.
> ooooooooaaaaaaassooooooolo
> aaaahhhhhhhjjjhhhhhhhhhh
> Fuck you, Krissssssssssssstaaaaaa.
> Fuck yiu, Cllllllllaaaayyyyyy bitcchhhhhhhhh.
Both women come simultaneously for minutes, loudly and violently.
They pause and catch their breath. But not as long as they'd like to.
As if on cue, they pop to their feet, still naked but for their boots.
Bonnie wishes she was wearing workgloves.
Krista wishes they both were.
But barehands will have to do.
> Let's fistfight.
> Like men.
To be continued......
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The ever-observant Bonnie noted a similarity between childhood summer watering hole play-wrestling with boys and girls.
A watering hole playfight with a boy was rehearsal for grownup sex.
And a watering hole playfight wiyh a girl was rehearsal for a grownup catfight.
Bonnie was in her first grownup catfight now. It was with a political enemy who she would be interacting with for potentially decades. She needed to establish superiority over Krista. Right here. Right now.
She had always known her first adult sex would come on her wedding night. That's when it happened for all respectable Indiana women in 1845.
But she never knew when her first adult catfight would happen. The first time she put on rawhide workgloves, she assumed it would happen in the fields. Perhaps a dispute over pay. Or stolen farm equipment on her barn.
Or perhaps with a romatic rival. But thst would be a really nasty fight. It would be to the death, potentially. Since there would be no rules.
This was better. A fight over politics. Whig vs Democrat. Clay versus Jackson.
Men fought over politics all the time.
Why not women?
This was perfect, thought Bonnie.
Me vs Krista.
> Bring it, Krista. Hurt me.
> I intend to, Bonnie.
Why are we using our Christian names with each other, wondered Bonnie.
Has it actually become THAT personal?
To be continued.....
-
Bonnie thrills to the fulfillment of a lifelong dream of standup fistfighting another woman. The years-before aborted dress fight against the schoolgirl bully, which she was hurriedly driven to by her aunt, is quickly forgotten in the silent tense exchange of fists to the face with her Transylvania coed rival.
Although part of Bonnie wishes rawhide workgloves were available for this duel, as when she word wordlessly flex workgloves in the southern Indiana cornfields, the flesh-on-flesh sensation of her fist to Krista's, and of her face to Krista's fists, excite and thrill her.
And arouse her. Bonnie has been aroused continuiusly for ovef an hour this morning. She has never imagines such sustained arousal being possible for her.
Is this why they call in the Wedding NIGHT, not the Wedding consummation. Does Wedding Night sex indeed last all night?
Is that why Honeymoons are a week long. Does the stimulation and titillation last all week?
> Hitting you turns me on. [Why did I blurt that out?]
> That's because you're a low class slatternly whore.
> I'm no whore. Your Transylvania education doesn't make you higher class than me.
> It does so. That's what class IS, whore.
> I'll never forgive you for thinking that.
> I seek no forgiveness from the likes of you. Whore.
To be continued....
-
Krista thought back to an all-dorm coed meeting at Transylvania weeks ago when the school was disbursing for holiday break. Women attending college, except for Teachers' Colleges, was especially rare in 1845, and even more so in the West (in 1845, any state west of the Appallachians). Frequently coeds would receive playful, or not so playful, taunts from jealous hometown chums. Under the late night influence of Kentucky Bourbon, some of the underclassmen girls posited the question to the older girls, "What advice do you give if one of the girls should slap me? What is the ladylike response?".
"My advice is that you should hit her back," was the unhesitant unanimous response. "Fiddlesticks to behaving like a lady to any impertinant bitch who slaps you. Show her that Transylvania ladies have not lost their Old Northeest grit. Slap her back, and offer the opportunity to fight outside."
Krista's chest swelled with pride that she was unhesitatingly brawling with Bonnie, a non-college barbarian masquerading as a reader of law. What need had the Old Northwest of a woman lawyer. No doubt to aid Whigs in land-speculation, the only reason Clay and his acolytes supported a National Bank. She craved to return to school and relate the details of the thrashing she had laid on an Indiana Whig bitch.
> Fuck you, Bonnie, I hate you.
> I hate you completely, Krista.
Krista has an irresistable desire to mount Bonnie and thrust their naked pussies together. Bonnie rolls Krista over, and the two are side by side. Krista has Bonnie by the wrists, but is to strong for Krista to mount.
Krista feigns weakness, rolls on her back, open her legs, and feels Bonnie's pussy on her.
Will Bonnie fight me or fuck me?, Krista wonders.
> Release my wrists, Krista.
> Thrust into me first, and I shall, Bonnie.
Bonnie thrusts into Krista's pussy, and the two are orgasming within a minute. The two continue until satiated, maybd for 10 minutes.
> Release my wrists now , says Bonnie.
> Fuck, you, retorts Krista. So you can thrash my face?
> So I can thrash your tits, Jackson whore.
> I shall release them. But anything that happens to your tits will happen three-fold to yours.
> You wouldn't dare.
The women begin mauling each others' breasts.
Bonnie, still mounting Krista, slaps Krista in the face.
Then punches.
Krista's nose is bleeding.
> Stupid bitch. This fight is mine.
To be continued.....
-
Krista and Bonnie both grew up "living off the land" in sotheastern Indiana and fully understood the causes of ..... and effects of .... bloody noses. Namely, a likely broken nose .... and, if not reset immediately and perfectly by a trained surgeon, a permanently disfigured nose.
Mere minutes earler, Krista was in a position to convey the ideal Transylvania "what I did on my Holiday Break" tale to her classmates-- I stood up to a Whig rival after helping Speaker Polk from Tennessee win back the White House .... and the associated Postmaster Grneral patronage .... from the Harrison/Tyler/Clay plutocrats. Harrison .... Tippecanoe .... from my own native soil of Indiana .... I stood up to a bitch acolyte of his, Bonnie. An Amazonian unwed .... Amazon. Who enjoyed fighting like a man.
I went toe to toe wth her, and have the scars to prove it.
But I'm sbout to have a disfigured face, which will prove little beyond my defeat to her.
> I give, Bonnie. Stop. You won when I released your wrists.
> Duplicitous Jackson whore. I won when you decided to fight me.
> I regret not fighting you, Whig plutocrat. Fighting is rhe way of honor in Indiana, may it always be so.
Bonnie could not dispute her enemy's pricipled stand, however much hatred she bore for her opponent.
> Acknowledge my victory then, with the kiss of charity. Krista.
> You have won our battle, Clay devil. I know not the "kiss of victory."
> Then I shall .... enlighten you .... Jackson slut. [Bonnie, still mounted on Krista, bends over and kisses her enemy energetically, the two women's pussies again finding each other and grinding. Both women finish quickly.]
> The kiss of victory is better .... and yet sweet.
> 'Tis, isn't it?
> 'Tis. [The two women collapse in embrace.]
> What happens now?
> What, indeed?
> Thank you for not .... maiming me.
> Thank you for not forcing me to. Krista.
To be continued....
-
Both women faced painful horse rides home thru the Indiana prairie from the Postal sorting facility where they had brawled all morning. Each prayed not to be stopped and queried by neighbors as to their ragged and dishevelled condition, or even worse, to be accosted by brigands.
Their prayers were answered. Each miraculously reached her destination safely.
Bonnie's destination was the residence of her tomboy-ish Aunt who had escorted her to her schooldays confronation with her bullying rival. Her Aunt, Bonnie correctly guessed, would be discreet about the causes of Bonnie's many wounds, and would know how to clean up from a catfight. Bonnie rejoiced that her Aunt answered the door.
> Bonnie!!! Look what the cat done drug in!! Are you ok?? Did you have an encounter with a bear??
> Worse. A Jackson bitch. Krista--that horrid Transylvania College coed.
> Did she ..... assault you?? Do we need to have the Sherriff arrest her?
> 'Twas no assault. We fought. Mutual decision. Hand to hand.
Vicious, but with full fair play. We needed to know .... which of us was ..... [blushing] the better woman.
> And? Was that decided??
> It was. I carried the day on the field of battle.
> Bonnie!!! [hugs her niece] I'm proud, never prouder actually. Your secret fight will be safe with me, but thank you for telling me.
> Thank you. And ..... what do I do about this???? [opens her top to reveal her mauled bosom]
> That barbaric animal. This is what they teach her at Transylvania????
Is it some kind of Amazon school?? She did THIS to you. I hope you reciprocated in kind. Let me get the iodine out.
> I got her back far worse. I made her beg for mercy. And something else ..... most unladylike ..... as well.
> [Looks at her niece slyly.] If you two were fighting as viciously as your wounds show ..... my guess would be that you were ..... each of you .... experiencing arousal from your loins. It is natural .... I assure you ..... when one is in a woman to woman contest such as you had.
> Thank you. I was afraid .... I didn't want to .... sin.
> Think not of sin. The Lord made David a King for killing Goliath in a duel. That's what you had today. A duel with an enemy. Men do it all the time. Do not let anyone make you feel women cannot do that same.
> You've ..... duelled ..... hand-to-hand with women.
> I have.
> And your loins .... and hers .... were excited?
> Like nothing else in life. Other than, perhaps, watching a feminine duel.
> You were lucky enough to watch.
> A couple times, yes. How I wozld have loved to watch your war this morning with that witch Krista.
Bonnie's aunt disinfected Bonnie's wounds. The aunt and niece retired to their beds to rest.
And to masturbate to the thought of the Bonnie-Krista fight.
****************************
Krista, too, received medical care at home to her wounded face and bosom. She returned to Transyvania, where her battle scars were still visible.
She showed them off to her dormmates.
> You received those in a fight?? With a woman?? Did you win??
> Hand-to-hand. With a woman. Just like Canto XXVII of Orlando Furioso. And I won.
Krista felt no choice but to lie about the outcome. Defeat would have reflected poorly on the school.
She couldn't stop masturbating to memories of the fight.
She longed to reach out to Bonnie and share her feelings of the fight.
She considered writing a letter to her enemy.
To be continued.....
-
Three weeks after the brutal catfight which Bonnie won over Krista, the Clay supporter (Bonnie) was also "winning the post-fight" over the Jackson acolyte. For two reasons. First, Bonnie was the truth-teller when she recounted the battle and stated she was the victor of the clash (Krista's claims of victory rang hollow no matter how many times she repeated them in her Transylvania dorm--either that, or Krista was just a plain terrible liar). But secondly, Bonnie's listener, her own aunt, was able to read between the lines and understand the sexual arousal, and satisfaction, to which Bonnie and Krista had brought each other during the fight. Krista's listeners at Transylvania responded to her innuendo with blank stares.
And spelling out the experience to them was, well, un-speakable in the Victorian (literally--the Great Queen was in Year 8 of her 64 year Reign of Glory) Midwest.
Krista was sexually frustrated post-fight.
The only path to relief she could think of was to....
....write a humiliating, but candid, letter to her rival.
Is Bonnie still my rival, wondered Krista. Will she even open my letter?
Only one way to find out.
Three days later, Bonnie's hands shook as she opened a handwritten letter, apparently genuine (not a forgery--after all, thanks to the Spoils System, Krista's party now controlled the mails in the U.S.).
Dear Bonnie,
Three weeks ago, you and I engaged in an un-lady-like combat of protracted duration. Although the tactics and attire were not what would be approved in Polite Society if witnessed intra-fight or negotiated by seconds pre-Duel, I hope we can be in agreement that we followed Fair Play in seeking a victor.
I acknowledge you were said victor, despite my preparing for such a battle since reading of a feminine dual in Ariosto's 'Orlando Furioso', Canto XXVII. [I recommend it to you if you have access to the text.]
But that's not the only reason for note.
You say you are reading law, and as such I trust you have at least heard of Ariosto.
Have you heard of Sappho? Classical Greece?
A female poet, who wrote of her love of other females.
Now, I don't love you, Bonnie. This isn't that kind of confession.
But I was aroused like never before while fighting you. But it was more than that. I got aroused at the Raintree County watering hole, both participating in and watching female 'waterfights'.
But it never went beyond arousal. I never got "over the summit" and achieved ..... climaxing, the girls at Transylvania call it.
Until I fought you. So many times that I lost count.
I think I might be permanently broken for male suitors. Maybe I already was all along--maybe that's why I'm not married yet.
Do you feel the same? Would you be open to .... fighting me again?
Krista
To be continued.....
-
Bonnie received, read, .... and re-read, not fully believing or trusting her lying eyes, .... the intimate correspondence from her enemy Krista. Three streams of thoughts ran thru her mind.
Either:
> Krista had banged her head in her fight with Bonnie weeks ago, and was delirious.
> Krista was playing a prank on Bonnie, perhaps in league with her Jackson-Van Buren-Polk allies, in order to embarrass Bonnie and pull her into a scandal.
> Krista was asking Bonnie for a fight re-match.
The first two, of course, would be very very bad for Bonnie. But the third would .... enticing ... to Bonnie. And, most welcome to her as well.
Bonnie knew she had to go to her aunt. After masturbating to Krista's familiar scent, still lingering on the fine stationary, Bonnie put on her riding gear and galloped to her aunt's.
Bonnie excitedly handed the letter to her aunt, momentarily forgetting her aunt's il-literacy. Bonnie's aunt was of the final Vincennes Culture generation, where few men ... and almost no women ..... wrre taught to read and write.
Bonnie's aunt listened to Bonnie's recitation of Krista's letter, and spoke: "I envy your generation, able to challenge rivals to fights by letter. More fights ..... so many more .... would have happened in the Tecumseh War days, and the peace afterwards, if we had had the gift of letters available to us."
"But, dear Aunt .... do we respond by letters ..... or in person?"
"I'm glad you said 'we'. I want to be included. And to witness your next fight with this college hussy."
"I want you to witness it, too."
"Then let's prepare to travel to Lexington, Kentucky [which both knew as the site of Transylvania College], and answer this bitch's challenge."
To be continued....
-
Bonnie's and Krista's upbringing in Victorian Indiana deprived them of the vocabulary to understand, describe, and act on the feelings overwhelming them after their Post Office brawl.
The Vincennes Culture of the Old Northwest gave them the experience to understand a 1on1 fistfight, and to never back down to a challenge. Bonnie's Aunt had brought her to fight a girl during her schoolgirl days.
The make-out culture of the Summer Watering-Hole in Raintree County had given them their first quivers of sexual desire and release.
The courtship culture of rivalry and marriage and taught them to compete for the most fertile, and socially desirable, mate and life partner.
And, finally, the Jackson-Clay, Democrat-Whig political feud taught them that go the winner belonged the spoils.
They thought their Post Office was the natural result of all of the above, especially the latter.
But why, then, they wondered, was Bonnie drawn to Krista's retreat and refuge at Transylvania College. To her lair. Her literal bed.
Were they here to fight?
To grapple, as at Watering Hole playfights?
Or was this a mating competition? To test, against each other, who could better satisfy the sexual appetites of a hypothetical future high-power alpha husband. Bonnie hoped the answer lay here.
Krista gasped when she opened her dorm room door to a lady's knock, and found it was Bonnie.
> You? You? Bonnie? You've actually .... come? I knew it was possible .... glfrom the day you wrote your letter .... but I prayed you would change your mind .... or .. Bonnie, I fear to say this .... I prayed you would die on the road on the way here.
> Your prayer went unanswered, bitch. And, yet .... if you really desire my non-presence, you can close the fmdoor now, and deny me entrance.
> [Krista leans forward and kisses Bonnie's lips.] No. No. Come in. We must .... kiss .... until one of us can take no more. Do you .... accept?
> [Bonnie think, feeling Krista's bosom under her top.]
> Answer me, bitch. Now, I demand.
> I accept. I'm the better woman than you. I showed you in Raintree County with fists, and will show you now with my passion.
Bonnie pushed thru the door past Krista. Krista latches and locks it behind them.
> When that door opens, one of us will be a defeated woman. Irrevocably so.
To be continued.....
-
In 1845, Transylvania College was a hub of gadgetry (Kentucky lore has it that the very word was invented there) and techical wizardry. Watt's steam engine was the iPhone of its time, and the "killer app" in Krista's dorm suite was a primitive steam bath.
Bonnie was gritty and grimy from the long road trip. Her eyes were drawn to the enticing wash room--nothing like the outhouse shack she was required to use in Indiana.
> May I try the bath?
> You may. Let me show you how to use it. It's easy to burn yourself.
Krista started the bath contraption (another Transylvania-invented word).
Bonnie undressed. She was normally bashful about her own naked body. Not in front of Krista, though. She was glad she had made this trip.
The bathroom filled with steam. Literally .... and figuratively.
Bonnie sat at the age of the filling bath.
Krista readied a straight-edge razor, and shaving cream. She pylked down her own pants, and showed Bonnie had to shave her bush.
She handed Bonnie the razor. Bonnie was glad. She half expected Krista might slit her (Bonnie's) throat with it. Bonnie hoped Krista tied--so that she could fight her off.
Bonnie shaved.
> When are we going to fight?
> Finish tour bath, first. You're filthy. Clay-whore.
> You're filthy in ways that can't be cleaned. Jackson-slut.
To be continued....
-
Bonnie stripped and let her weary body melt, almost literally, into the steamy tub. She had never felt such scalding water in her life, even when cooking on her Indiana farm.
She had also, Krista now realized, experienced a bubble bath, requiring special liquid soap imported direct from Paris. Krista wanted to brag to Bonnie, lording her University lifestyle over her uneducated hick rival.
Krista knocked on the bathroom door and entered.
> I apologize for interrupting. May I come in?
> [Aren't we about to see each other naked when we resume our fighting later?, wondered Bonnie. Why the sudden show of feminine modesty and decorum?] Please. My body is ... in the bath water.
> I wanted to show you .... such a silly name .... it's from King Louis-Phillippe's France .... it's calle bubble bath. It's what it sounds like. Soap that fills the tub with bubbles. Can I pour some in? Only the right amount of lotion.... works.
> Please.
> [Krista pours soap into the tub, filling it with relaxing volumes of bubbles. Bonnie smiles in relaxation, then catches herself. Krista is her mortal political rival, she reminds herself. Clay and Jackson supporters have been at each others' throats since the Nullification Crisis of 1832. That was over a dozen years of political warfare, often erupting in war with fists, as it did that morning in the Post Office between Krista and Bonnie. Krista sees Bonnie suppress her smile.] I'll let you alone now.
> No. Please stay. [Bonnie is surprised by her own request. Why dud she ask Krista to stay?] I .... will need your help drying when I'm done. And emptying the bathwater.
> Very well. I shall stay. I actually .... wanted to ask you something anyways.
> [Bonnie has questions of her own for Krista. Perhaps our questions are similar, she tells herself.] Please. Ask me anything.
> The fight .... you and I had .... and will be having ..... this is awkward .... [both women are blushing] ..... do women who used to have playfights at the summer watering whole .... do THEY, when they are adults .... do they fight each other like you and I enjoy doing?
> [Bonnie thinks of her aunt.] My aunt, when I was younger, drove me to fight a schoolgirl I had a quarrel with. She fought other women, I'm sure, when grown ..... and was in waterfights as a youth. She's all I can really go by. I don't talk to women .... or anyone ... about fighting .... except her .... and you, Krista. Thank you for your letter.
> Thank you for yours. And for coming here. To fight me.
> [After a pregnant pause...] I can't believe later today we're going to fight.
> I can't .... either. Will we know when to stop?
> I don't think we will.
To be continued....
-
Bonnie began to stand up to get out of the tub, but Krista motioned for her to stay stationary.
<> Wait, wait. Before you dry off .... I had an idea .... I've thought of it, dreamed of it .... before, when you weren't here. But now that you're here, in the flesh .... so to speak ....
<> Yes, in the flesh .... I love how that sounds .... so naughty....
<> Yes .... being around you makes me naughty .... I'm not normally like this .... well, not as much ..... well, anyways .....while you're in the full bath .... I had a thought .... I was wondering if you might consider it .... it's a bit .... dangerous ....
<> Danger? Please ... ask.
<> When you used to have summer watering hole playfights in Indiana .... water fights .... if the girl you were fighting was an actual bully ... or, if she was an actual rival ... if you and her had the same suitor .... would you actually try to dunk each other in the water during your waterfights ... I mean, to actually try and make each other unable to breathe?.... Did any of your fights ever get THAT .... violent? ... and hateful?
<> [Blushing] .... if the other girl was an actual rival .... if we had both kissed the same boy ... then, yes, we would both try and dunk each other .... it made my heart race when a fight would get that violent .... because it was dangerous.
> I was wondering .... do you want to water fight me like that right now? To try and dunk each other in the tub?
<> ..... [Bonnie hesitates]....
<> [Krista stands and starts to strip].... Perhaps I'm not asking you, Bonnie...... [strips and comes up to the bath edge, bending down and putting her face into Bonnie's] .... perhaps I'm telling you .... Bonnie, I'm coming into the tub to dunk you.
<> I welcome you to try, bitch. Let's find out if Clay women or Jackson bitches are better at dunking.
<> Yes, let's find out.
Krista climbs into the tub and gets on her knees, facing her enemy Bonnie. The two women lock each other into headlocks, recalling the tactics they used on youthful dunking waterfights. These fights bore little resemblance to playful waterfights. This fight was as real as rhe Krista-Bonnie brawl on the post office floor--It just was taking place in three feet of scalding water.
Then two and a half feet of water.
Then two feet.
As Krista and Bonnie squirmed in the tub, exchanging temporary advantages and briefly making her enemy gasp on mouthfuls of water, but then the other regaining the advantages, water was overflowing the side of the tub onto the floor.
Both women soon realized that so much water was lost that neither can any longer submerge her opponent.
It was not longer a watering hole fight, but a mud puddle fight.
> I think neither of us is going to dunk the other.
> I think you're right.
> I still .... very much enjoyed that fight. I crave danger like that.
> I crave it as well. That fight was ... exhilirating.
> I'm glad neither of us drowned. I've never had a fight opponent like you.
> Nor have I.
> Let's get dry and ....
> .... and fight on the bed.
> I was thinking exactly that.
To be continued....
-
Three decades later, in 1875, when Bonnie was a grown, married childless woman in Raintree County, a member of the Democratic establishment stll occassionally wresting power from Indiana Republicans, Bonnie became a leader of the nascent Granger movement. She built one of the state's first indoor swimming pools in their activity center.
And wondered in 1870s Indiana college girls knew what waterfighting was.
She gathered a group together, and asked around to see if any of the two girls might have a rivalry in progress. Over status. Over a boy.
She would put these 2 girls in physical proximity with each other, and encourage them to engage in conversation, the bitchier the better.
She noticed they come together and waterfight.
She loved it.