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.