FreeCatFights
General Category => Catfight , Boxing & Wrestling Stories => MMA, Martial Arts,Kickboxing and NHB => Topic started by: bcw8 on June 03, 2020, 10:46:49 AM
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The first car pulled in a little after ten pm. The spots to park were marked with rebar driven into the dirt and wrapped with reflective tape. The driver maneuvered into place, one post at the right front and one at the left. The headlights centered on a boulder, about fifteen feet in front of the car. She shut them off, and waited. Over thirty minutes, other cars arrived. All parked the same way, facing in on a circle. The boulder sat in its center, a chunk of irregular rock, thrust about three feet above the hard-packed dirt, a rough semi-oval as wide as it was tall and half-again as long.
A last car completed the circle, its engine ticking as it cooled. More cars arrived, left to parked haphazardly anywhere outside the circle. The drivers were all women. The found seats on the hoods of the circled cars, making eye contact with drivers who nodded assent. The view beyond the circle was to the lights of the valley below. By ten-thirty, no more cars arrived. The road below had been closed again, the gate locked.
One woman stepped into the center, to the boulder. The moon was up and full, so she was lit with soft shadows. Two passenger doors opened, and two other women emerged. One was blonde, the other a brunette. They were barefoot, in shorts. Their stomachs were bare. The brunette wore a dark charcoal bikini top. The freckled blonde was in a white halter top.
The brunette was named Suzanne. She’d arrived in a minivan, the detritus of young motherhood scattered across its seat. She wasn’t sure she still loved her husband. Her job didn’t interest her. A month ago, she’d slapped and pulled hair with another soccer mom in an embarrassing moment of lost self-control. She’d furiously fucked her husband that night and had thought of nothing else since except closed fists instead of open palms. She’d confessed this to her friend. That friend sat on a car hood now.
The blonde was named Vicky. She was single. She worked in finance and she liked it but the pressure was brutal and she didn't know where her career was going. At the end of every day she felt like exploding. She’d become a regular in local nightclubs, turning to alcohol and sex. Two weeks ago another woman had slapped her in a bar and they had clashed hard before being separated. Heart pounding, Vicky had waited for the bitch in the parking lot after, but she didn't show, the fucking coward. Those few seconds in the bar had been pure adrenaline. She needed more. She had a friend in the circle too.
Suzanne and Vicky didn’t know each other. There was no grudge between them. So why were they here, in this circle? Neither woman could articulate it clearly, even in her own mind. The closest would be to say it was about . . . escape. About the thrill. About testing herself, in a basic, primitive way, so different from the meaningless fucking tests of her actual daily life. However inarticulate, every woman on every car hood understood it. To call it a secret society sounds pretentious, but in a way it was. Except for the friendships in the circle, no one in their lives knew they were there.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” asked the third woman. Their eyes met. Suzanne felt it in her stomach, in her breasts. “Yes,” she said. Vicky bit her lower lip. She felt it the same way. Her nipples were as hard as the boulder. “Yes.”
The woman nodded. “No rules here,” she said. “Woman to woman, until one quits.” She raised her hand. Simultaneously around the circle, headlights flared on. They were brilliantly lit in the center. The soft shadows vanished, or turned sharp as knives.
Their fists were taped. In the headlights, the old bloodstains on the boulder were black.
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Ritualistic, its going to be brutal. Love it.
I may have to borrow the setting for a cyber fight of my own, the stones a nice touch. One step away from a bloody druidic sacrifice.
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Ritualistic, its going to be brutal. Love it.
I may have to borrow the setting for a cyber fight of my own, the stones a nice touch. One step away from a bloody druidic sacrifice.
Borrow away!
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Damn. What an incredible opening scenario. Very intriguing. Very hot.
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Tammy and I are thrilled to have found our parking spot!
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Very good start! I like location and fighters! Can't wait for more!
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The woman dropped her hand.
Vicky had thought about this, dreamed about it, visualized it. No hesitation. She only wondered what it would feel like. She stepped in and swung, a short chopping punch into Suzanne’s side.
Oh my god, it felt good. It felt powerful. Her arms were strong, and the taped fist was a warrior’s weapon. The impact - the sound - was a burst of adrenaline. More.
Suzanne had planned too, but in her mind she was quicker, not Vicky. And as much as she had thought about what it would be like to hit another woman, she had also thought about what it would be like to be hit. Could she take it?
Oh fuck, it hurt. More than she had imagined. Vicky’s fist was like stone. But after the flare, came the realization. She could take it. Labor had been an ocean of pain, and she had swum across it. She could do this.
Vicky swung again and Suzanne ducked under it. Fuck the plan - the blonde had smirked about having bigger tits. Suzanne drove her fist into Vicky’s left breast. Vicky screamed. In that second - the thrill it gave her - Suzanne knew she belonged here. She was a fighter.
Vicky staggered back, caught herself against the boulder. Now it was Suzanne who smirked, and that the blonde woman could not tolerate. She launched herself off of the stone, both hands shoving Suzanne hard. She followed as the brunette stumbled back. She backhanded her across the face, whipping her head sideways, then dropped her shoulder into Suzanne’s chest and drove her back, short digging steps in the bare dirt, to slam her into the front of one of the cars, a black SUV..
Suzanne took another punch in her body before she could clinch, tying up Vicky’s arms. Their breasts crushed together. Their hard breathing slapped their sweat-slicked stomachs against each other. Cheek to cheek they staggered, an angry slow dance. They rolled across the left headlight of the SUV, its beam lighting them brilliantly for the watchers across the circle, and into the next vehicle, a lower-slung car.
Suzanne bent Vicky backwards over its hood. Her taped hand scrabbled over the blonde’s face before anchoring under her chin, shoving her head back hard, fanning her hair across the metal. Her other fist pumped into Vicky’s belly. Vicky moaned and that sound of pain was sweet in Suzanne’s ear.
Then from below Vicky’s fist smashed into Suzanne’s mouth. Her lip split open and she pitched to the side. Vicky rolled with her, was on her back, pressing her chest and face down against the hood. Vicky grabbed her wrist and wrenched her arm behind her back, pinning her hand high up between her shoulder blades. Suzanne’s toes dug into the dirt, trying to find leverage, but now Vicky was up on the car bumper and pushed down hard.
The owner of the car had abandoned her seat on the hood as the two women had careened into it, but she stood only a few feet away, in the narrow angle between the next car. She saw the pain in Suzanne’s face as Vicky gripped her hair right at her scalp and dragged her head back. She saw the veins and cords in Suzanne’s neck, saw her teeth clenched. Vicky slammed Suzanne’s face into the hood and jerked it back again. Blood from the brunette’s mouth pattered on the car. Now it was Vicky’s face that the woman watched. She saw the light in Vicky’s eyes, even through the headlights across the way.
With Suzanne’s arm pinned to her upper back, Vicky pounded fists down into her lower back. Every punch boomed through the car hood. Suzanne spasmed in pain, her hair in her face. After five hammer shots, Vicky let her go, spinning her off the car onto her face in the dirt.
The woman in charge spoke. “Suzanne - have you had en …”
“No!” Vicky shouted. “No! I’m not done!”
Suzanne raised her face. It was bloodied and pain-drawn, but fierce. “Fuck no I haven’t had enough,” she snarled. She pushed to her feet.
Vicky slid off the car hood. Her body and soul was singing. She was the better woman, she knew it. She didn’t want this to end. She wanted the proof to be slow and savage.
Suzanne was as furious at herself as she was at the blonde bitch. That’s right: bitch. There was no grudge at the start but there sure as fuck was one now. That cxnt’s face was an open book - she thought she was so much better than Suzanne. Suzanne fed the rage building inside her. Show her she’s wrong. Show everyone.
Vicky came at her grinning and Suzanne hit her right in her mouth. Vicky’s head snapped back. Two burst lips now. Suzanne kicked her, snapping her foot up and into her stomach. She saw how much it hurt the blonde and she mentally marked the spot. She drove Vicky toward the boulder, hitting her there. “You think I’m easy, bitch?” she screamed. “You think I’m nothing?”
Vicky buckled from the cramping agony in her belly. Suzanne pushed her up and hit her again. “I’ll bust your fuckin' ovaries open, bitch,” she promised. Vicki screamed and hit her in the breast, pounding it out of her top.
Professional woman, soccer mom - those were gone, in only minutes. Just woman to woman, now.
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Great action as always.
That poor car though, with dents and bloodstains it's going to look like the owner ran something over ;)
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Their universe shrank to the circle of headlights. Millennia of civilization and a lifetime of learning how women are supposed to act flickered out, lost in the darkness outside the ring. There was only the test between them.
They tore off each other’s tops and crashed together. Is anything more woman-to-woman than trying to hurt her breasts with yours? Suzanne’s nipples had been toughened by nursing her child. She drove them like spikes into Vicky’s big pink areolas, and saw the blonde flinch. She threw her arms around Vicky’s neck and did it again, belly to belly. She gathered all the humiliation of being mocked by older girls before her breasts developed, all the jealousy she felt when men - when her husband - ogled women with bigger tits like this smirking blonde bitch, all the frustration of her breasts turning from the core of her sexuality into bags for milk, and channeled all that into weaponizing her body. She twisted and stabbed and ground her rock-hard nipples into Vicky’s. Belly to belly, she felt the tremor of pain that rippled through the other woman. The soft agonized sob in her ear thrilled her.
Vicky had never felt anything like this. Of course she rubbed and squeezed her own breasts, and she’d had lovers who played a little rough. But not this, not this unrelenting push into her, this crushing of her breasts with a red hot poker at their center. Not this low taunting, the brunette bitch’s lips an inch from her ear, asking her how much it hurt, how much could she take? This cxnt that she had judged from the first moment as soft, as no match for her; this cxnt was beating her tits with hers? Her ass hit the boulder, and she bent back over it, it’s hard ridges digging into her spine.
Suzanne’s toes dug for purchase on the low edge of the stone as she heaved herself atop the blonde, driving down on her now. Vicky’s fat tits were splashed wide on her chest now with Suzanne’s like rocks in their centers. She ground her taped hand into Vicky’s face, and imagined the sensation of rupturing her tits. Oh yes.
“Ask her,” Suzanne gasped.
The woman in charge spoke. “Vicky - have you had enough?”
Vicky shook her head violently but sobbed because that made the pain worse. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She worked her hand under Suzanne’s chin and tried to push her up. The pressure on her breasts lessened a bit then pulsed back. Harder. She pushed harder. She had to. She had to lift the bitch off. The muscles in her shoulder and arm were rigid and trembling. She gained an inch, or two. Enough to pound her other fist into Suzanne’s ribs, then again, harder. Then Suzanne’s breasts lifted free of hers.
Vicky twisted, and shoved Suzanne to her left. She rolled right as the brunette tumbled down the side of the boulder. Relief. Oh god, relief. Then Suzanne’s hands were in her hair, reaching over the boulder, dragging her back up, her face and tits down, raking over the rough stone to its top. Suzanne slammed her forearm, then her fist, down into Vicky’s back, then the back of her neck. The last sent a lightning bolt down Vicky’s spine and down both arms, blinding, numbing pain.
Suzanne flipped her to her back, displaying her in the cross-glare of the headlights. Vicky knew that taped fists were about to rain down into her breasts. Desperately, she kicked up. Her shin smashed into Suzanne’s head. She lunged up, gripped the brunette’s hair, and drove her face into the stone. Again, they slid to the dirt on opposite sides of the boulder, but this time Suzanne was too hurt to come for her. The only sound in the night was their sobbing breath. The watchers waited, patiently.
Slowly, Suzanne got up, her hands crawling up the boulder as she got her legs under her. Vicky crawled away, trying to gain some space. The first time she tried to stand, she failed. She crawled to a car, and pulled herself up against it. Suzanne’s forehead was bleeding, Vicky saw. Good. She’d make it bleed more. But first she’d do her tits for how the brunette had hurt her. She pushed off the car.
They swung at each other with more fury than skill but in a fight like this fury is what counts. Fists missed or hammered into shoulders, which itself hurt like fuck, and then Vicky saw the opening and she rammed her fist into Suzanne’s swaying left breast. Suzanne buckled at the explosion of pain, and Vicky swarmed into her, beating her tits. Fuck knock-out punches. Revenge and pain were all the blonde cared about. Pain so bad the fucking brunette bitch would quit in ruins from it.
Suzanne couldn’t block or escape the tornado that ripped into her. It was like some kind of medieval stoning, the hard-taped fists like rocks thrown at her. Something ruptured in her right breast and she screamed and the worst part of it was she saw how it lit up Vicky’s eyes. She tried to cover but Vicky slapped her arm away and hit her again in the same place. Oh fuck this pain was too much.
Then Vicky rammed into her, shoulder just under her breasts, lifting her feet off the ground, then driving her down. Not into the dirt. Into the boulder.
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Love the savage, primal brutality between these sexy wildcats. You capture their emotional states so well in your descriptions. Love these stories!
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Absolutely love this - the destruction of the tits of both is amazing. Hope Vicky wins! Either way its a bloody great tale!
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Suzanne lay spread-eagled across the top of the stone, her head tilted back and her hair flowing down its side. Her arms were outflung, and limp. Her chest and belly rose and fell. Vicky stood stock still, and stared at her for a long moment. She found a foothold, and climbed atop the boulder.
Upright on the stone pedestal over her broken opponent, Vicky cast a wild shadow in a dozen directions. She ground a filthy foot into Suzanne’s swelling breast, and then placed it on her unresisting face. She looked slowly around the circle of cars, the silent watching woman faceless in the shadows. “I’m stronger,” she shouted at them. “I took what she had, and I beat her! I am better than her!”
Suzanne swept her planted leg from under her. Vicky crashed to the ground, landing twisted on her shoulder and neck. Suzanne slowly pushed up to a sitting position, now the one spotlit, her hair across her face, alone on the altar. She slid down the side of the stone to land next to the blonde. She bent and twisted her left hand into Vicky’s hair, and pulled her to her hands and knees, pulled her head so that her cheek was against the side of the boulder.
“You’re wrong, bitch,” she said, and drove her knee into Vicky’s other cheek.
She draped Vicky on the side of the stone, and hit her body. Her taped fists felt as hard as the stone, like all the power and strength of womanhood. She felt Vicky’s ribs snap, and she smiled. She hit her in the belly and watched blood bubble from her mouth. She punished her breasts, her big, arrogant swinging tits, pounding them into purple bags of raw meat. She lifted her, turned her, slammed her down across the rock.
Suzanne had Vicky’s hair again, matted with dirt and sweat and blood, and with that grip she turned her head until the third woman, the one in charge, slowly came into focus within Vicky’s blurred vision. “Say it,” Suzanne said, and dug her nails into Vicky’s breast.
Vicky clung to consciousness out of animal instinct, even though the dark relief of senselessness was temptingly close. Did she somehow think she deserved this pain, that she was now bound to bathe in its torrent? The brunette bitch, the fucking soccer mom, was adding more and more to the flood. “Say it,” she repeated, but now it sounded more like come this way than a threat.
“No more,” Vicky’s voice was broken, but it was loud enough. “No more. You . . . win.”
Her friend, and another woman, came for her.
Suzanne leaned on the stone, her head down. Around the circle, women slid back in their cars. Suzanne pulled herself up to the top of the boulder and stood there, awash in the last minute of the headlights. One horn blared, then all of them, in tribute to her. One by one, headlights backed away, and turned. Her friend was left alone with her.
“Now what?” Suzanne said. Unexpectedly, she sobbed. Her friend hugged her. “Now you go back to the daily fight,” she said. “But now you know better how fucking strong you are.”
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A great reversal and ending. Lovely writing once again.
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Flashing our car’s lights and honking its horn in tribute to the fighters AND to the writer. Slowly backing out of the circle before speeding on to the next bcw8 venue!
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Wonderful. Poor Vicky!
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Amazing story! Will there be a "the circle 2"? Would be a great series.