(This is a translation of a story from my german story)
Rebuild
After the resounding defeat of my blonde Amazon, it didn’t take long for her to roam the vast expanse of the internet again, searching for opponents.
https://www.freecatfights.com/forums/index.php?topic=122782.0Although the comparison with Maria had clearly been a step too far, and my sweet girlfriend had only taken it on because, at 26, she hadn’t yet learned when to keep her mouth shut, it was obvious that she was looking for a victory—or at least a fight on equal footing. I felt much the same. I can’t deny that there was a certain allure to my girlfriend’s utter defeat, but only after a good fight. Saskia had already had to give up fights before and had been mentally dominated by her opponent in those moments, but only after proving herself a worthy adversary and making her opponent break a sweat. Maria was different. We talked a lot about it on the flight home, and it was clear that it wouldn’t be good for Saskia to dwell on it too long. After a few days, she found an opponent. Her name was Irene, and when my girlfriend excitedly told me about her, I was a bit skeptical. Irene was 52 years old. I was stunned and jokingly asked if Saskia was just looking for an easy target, but when Irene arrived at our place the following weekend, my seriousness returned. Aside from her slightly old-fashioned glasses, I would’ve bet my life that this woman was in her early 40s. She was 1.80m tall, slender, with ash-blonde, slightly wavy hair reaching down her back. She had a stylish but commanding presence and was very friendly. As before every fight, there was some wine, and we talked about the match.
Saskia and Irene had already agreed on a catfight in just their underwear, and I was curious to see how my girlfriend would fare against an opponent 20cm taller than her. I was also eager to see how experienced Irene was and whether stamina would play a role. Both slowly undressed, and as usual, Saskia turned it into a private striptease. But Irene was no shrinking violet and matched her, likely to provoke her younger opponent, which she succeeded in doing. Irene knew how to move and how to captivate a man, which didn’t go unnoticed. “Look, but don’t touch!” Saskia quipped, clearly a bit jealous. Irene said nothing, just ran her fingers through her hair, tossing it back and removing her bra in a stylish yet lascivious manner. The stage was set. The two women faced each other on the carpet in our living room. The brief moment gave me time to take in both women. Saskia, young and wild, with F-cup breasts, her unruly wavy blonde mane, and her huge blue eyes glaring at Irene, sparked by her flirting with me. 159cm, 50kg of femininity, ready to fight the next battle and restore her honor. Across from her stood Irene, poised and confident, with C-cup breasts and a penchant for decadent flair. She didn’t need to speak—her 180cm, 60kg frame was statement enough. Her eyes locked onto my girlfriend’s, but she seemed composed. It would be interesting to see if this was due to experience or if my Amazon could dethrone this grand dame. I gave the signal, and the fight began.
Neither wasted time with tactics. Saskia went straight for Irene’s hair, gripping it with both hands, while Irene reflexively grabbed Saskia’s mane in return. They pulled and tugged, each trying to throw the other off balance. Saskia changed tactics and started pulling Irene downward, which worked as she used her weight, and it was clear Irene struggled to stay on her feet. When Irene finally stumbled and fell to her knees, my tempestuous Amazon immediately put her in a side headlock and squeezed mercilessly. Irene had no choice but to roll onto her back to avoid serious strain on her neck. Saskia secured the hold with her other hand, establishing a dominant position. Not only was Irene’s neck trapped under Saskia’s armpit, but her face was pressed against one of my jubilant Amazon’s deadly weapons. Saskia focused on pressing Irene’s mouth and nose as fully as possible against her ample chest, causing Irene to gasp and struggle for air. Irene’s hair covering her face helped slightly, preventing her from suctioning too tightly to Saskia’s pride when breathing. I could easily tell when Irene managed to breathe, as stray strands were whipped through the air. I enjoyed the impressive spectacle of the battle for control over Irene’s breathing, but I couldn’t help noticing that Saskia, as in previous fights, wasn’t following the advice she’d been given. Her head was held high instead of low. What followed was inevitable. Irene calmed herself, stoically accepting the need to find breathing opportunities, and quickly devised a strategy to escape my girlfriend’s suffocating grip. She suddenly grabbed Saskia’s hair from above, digging in deep. I knew Saskia couldn’t handle hair-pulling well at that spot. Our eyes met briefly, and it looked like she knew she hadn’t listened to me. Her head was pulled further back, and due to the pain, she could no longer maintain the hold on Irene’s neck. Irene rolled her over, pinning her face-down on the floor and sitting on her back, one hand still buried in Saskia’s mane. Saskia briefly tried to get her knees under her to throw Irene off, but Irene yanked her hair hard, pressed her pelvis to the floor with her hips, and forced Saskia into an arch, eliciting a loud moan.
I started to worry. If Irene didn’t switch holds or grab Saskia’s hair differently soon, my girlfriend wouldn’t last long. Luckily, Irene didn’t notice she’d hit a weak spot and instead placed both hands under Saskia’s chin, pulling her into a classic camel clutch, which Saskia handled better. With her hair covering her face, I could barely see Saskia’s expression or gauge how well she was enduring the hold. It was similar with Irene. This woman didn’t seem bothered by where her hair fell, and it didn’t hinder her. It was fascinating and erotic to watch both women breathing heavily, their strands flying forward. Saskia’s breaths were sharp, while Irene seemed to grow calmer. Still, my girlfriend gave her plenty to handle. She kept moving beneath her, trying to get her legs under her, which Irene initially fended off. But after a while, Saskia’s relentless struggle paid off. She got her knees under her, bucked, threw Irene off balance, and when Irene could no longer apply pressure to Saskia’s chin, my girlfriend slipped nimbly between Irene’s legs. Irene tried to close her legs and trap Saskia’s head, but my swift angel was faster. When Irene realized the power dynamic had shifted, she tried to roll to the side, but Saskia leapt onto her with all her weight, landing on Irene’s back. What followed caught me by surprise. Saskia sat on Irene’s pelvis and, despite fierce resistance, pinned Irene’s arms to her sides, pressing them down with her thighs. Irene’s arms were out of play, and the position felt oddly familiar. I didn’t have to wonder long what my girlfriend was planning—she took it a step further. She gathered Irene’s hair into a ponytail, pulled it tight, and pressed it to the floor, keeping constant tension on Irene’s scalp. Then she did what she’d learned from Maria and endured in her last fight. She swung her massive chest to the side, striking Irene’s face. For the first time, I saw no composure in Irene’s eyes. All her gentle confidence was gone, replaced by stunned helplessness as Saskia relentlessly continued, Irene’s cheeks slowly turning red. Irene seemed frozen, unable to find a way out.
Saskia wanted more—she wanted to win, and this move wasn’t likely to achieve that. Sure, she could’ve tried to knock Irene out, but that would’ve taken ages. No, this was about showing dominance, and as Saskia pummeled Irene, it seemed she was also working through her own shame from having endured something similar. Eventually, she shifted to more conventional techniques. She lowered her majestic chest onto Irene’s face, pressing it between her breasts. Irene instinctively clung to them when trying to breathe. She knew she was done if she didn’t escape soon. The problem with conventional techniques is that there are conventional counters, and Saskia soon noticed her prey moving more between her legs. My girlfriend struggled to keep Irene’s hands away from her face and maintain balance, while Irene fought to get air. Once Irene freed her hands, she pushed up against Saskia’s chin, finally able to breathe. From then on, Irene seemed the more creative fighter. Saskia, busy keeping Irene’s hands at bay and staying balanced, had no ideas for regaining control. The inevitable happened—Irene took the initiative and, with it, control. She freed her legs enough to press her knees into Saskia’s hips, sliding upward and eventually freeing her legs completely. Still on her back, Irene’s legs snapped around my stunned girlfriend’s neck. Irene crossed her ankles, grabbed Saskia’s hair, and squeezed. A perfect leg scissor caught Saskia off guard. Saskia clawed at Irene’s thighs, but I could see the pressure was immense. Saskia gasped as Irene rolled to her side, bringing my poor girlfriend down, still frantically fighting not to be crushed. My usually fierce Amazon was in serious trouble. Her movements were jerky and uncontrolled. She seemed to be struggling, and I considered that she might not hold out much longer. But Irene’s ego didn’t want this end, though she could’ve easily forced a quick surrender from my fallen angel. Instead, Irene seemed to want revenge for the earlier humiliation. She rolled further, bent her legs, and flipped Saskia onto her back. Irene sat on Saskia’s chest, her feet under Saskia’s back, pinning her like a press. She released Saskia’s hair and grabbed her wrists, pressing them to the floor. Irene slid her hips back, skillfully trapping Saskia’s breasts between her legs. She squeezed, pushing Saskia’s breasts toward her face. “So these are your proud weapons your boyfriend loves to play with! Let’s see what they can take!” Irene taunted as Saskia writhed, anticipating pain. It was no use. Irene pressed Saskia’s breasts against her chin, painfully squeezing them between her legs. Saskia groaned, then screamed in pain, whimpering but refusing to give up. Her eyes welled up, and I felt for her. She was frustrated, her pride wounded by her helplessness. With a last burst of strength, she tried to curl up and wrap a leg scissor around Irene’s torso. After her third attempt, Irene had enough and pinned Saskia’s legs under her arms. Curled up, Saskia’s breasts pressed against her own face, making breathing even harder. My helpless Amazon looked pitiful, driven by pride, anger, and will, defiantly shouting her frustration as Irene repeatedly asked if she’d give up. Saskia stubbornly resisted, trying to move. I didn’t know how my poor girlfriend would escape, and though she kept Irene in motion, I doubted she’d succeed. It was a race against time—Saskia was weakening, and everyone, including Irene, knew it. I watched the seconds tick by, expecting her to concede, when she miraculously pulled it off.
As Irene leaned too far forward, Saskia gave her a final push in the same direction, throwing her off balance. Saskia slipped under Irene’s hips, braced herself on her arms, and squeezed. Her powerful thighs clamped around Irene’s ribcage. Irene tried to turn, but it was clear Saskia’s leg scissor was excruciatingly placed. There she was again, my busty Amazon. A bit battered, but in that moment, she screamed, summoning her last reserves, delivering an unmatched display of dominance and eroticism. Irene, on her knees between my girlfriend’s thighs, whimpered, cursed, and breathed in gasps, her majestic aura gone. And on the other side, my wild Amazon—her hair plastered to her face, screaming, every fiber of her body tensed as if she meant to crush the world between her thighs.
A scream, a frantic tap-out, and the fight was over. My girlfriend released the hold, her arms giving out. She collapsed flat on the floor, panting, her eyes sparkling with satisfaction. I beamed at her. Irene sat, processing her defeat. She’d chosen ego over victory and knew she’d had Saskia. Still lying down, Saskia checked if Irene was okay, which she confirmed, congratulating Saskia on an impressive fight. Saskia added, “I know you had me, but a win’s a win. Great fight!” Irene appreciated the respect, and I brought them water until they could stand again.
In the end, it was time for the victory photo. While the night’s highlight for me was my girlfriend’s triumphant moment, the photo was a must, and Saskia wanted it. Irene knelt at Saskia’s thigh as my girlfriend flexed one arm and gripped Irene’s hair with the other, with Irene looking up at her. “A photo for the Wall of Fame!” Saskia crowed. Irene teased, “Don’t worry, you’ll get one for the Wall of Shame too!” Saskia laughed. “Maybe, but not today!”
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