The Ring

[bcw8]

This is a continuation of "Confession," which can be found at https://www.freecatfights.com/forums/index.php?topic=125013.0

Jeanne returned to my bar two weeks later, with a man.  The diamond ring she took from Annette hung on a thin gold chain around her neck, resting in the shadows between her breasts.  I took their drinks to their table.  She hung on him, whispering in his ear, her hand unapologetically on his crotch. 

"We went in there," I heard her say.  "I didn't think she would. I made her wish she hadn't."  She winked at me.  "He was here.  How long was it before she crawled out?"

"A while," I said. She was surprised I answered her but she recovered quickly. 

"Was it the first titfight you've had here?" She was smirking.

"I think so.  But I don't think it will be the last." 

Her eyes narrowed at that.  Her hand lifted to the ring, playing with it.  The man looked at it but said nothing.  "What do you mean by that?" she asked me.  I turned back to the bar without answering her.  A few minutes later, he came up. 

"You saw Annette? You talked to her?"

I nodded.

He looked away.  "Was she hurt as bad as Jeanne says?"

Over his shoulder, Jeanne held my eyes. 

"She lost the fight," I said bluntly.  "Her tits looked like they'd been beaten with fists."

"You saw her tits?"

"Someone had to comfort her."

He stared at me. Jeanne stood and came to his side.  She had heard everything and her face was hot and her nipples jutted in her top. 

"I should have," she said, and her voice was thick with desire.  "I should have used my fists on her."  She stepped in front of him and pulled his hands to her breasts as she pushed her ass back into his groin.  "Does she want more?  Is that what you meant before?" 

Her lips were wet and glossy and her eyes were feral. "I will. I'll fucking fight her again.  Right here. Close your fucking little bar.  Lock the door.  I'll beat her pathetic weak tits to pulp while you watch."

She was on the verge of orgasm at the thought, her eyes wide, her pupils slightly dilated.  "Jesus, Jeanne," he moaned.  She wheeled on him. 

"I took the ring!" she hissed.  "I came to you and you fucked me!  Don't you dare pity her!"

"I think it's time for you to go," I said. I'm sure she could see how hard her outburst had made me too.  She smirked at me. 

"So you're her white knight. Did you fuck her? That fucking loser?"

I pointed at the door and she laughed.

"Give her a message from me.  She can have her rematch, anytime she wants.  But if she does ... tell her I promised to fucking ruin her."

***********************************
"Justin was with her?" Annette asked as I let her into my apartment.  I thought, as I did each time I saw her, that she was beautiful.

"Yes."

She nodded.  Her blue eyes.  She reached for me, her fingers in my hair at the base of my skull.  Her mouth was soft and full.  I lifted her and carried her to my bed and made love to her.  Her breasts had mostly healed, her bruises faded.  After, we lay together in the damp sheets, sweat cooling on our skin.

"Why do you believe in me?" she asked. 

I kissed her, instead of saying Because I love you.

"I have to do it," she said. 

"Do you want him back?"

"No," she said.  "But I need to do it ... for me."

******************

When the night came, the bar stayed closed. I moved the tables and chairs to the walls.  At ten to midnight I let Annette in.  She wore a dress, I don't know what to call it, I don't know fashion. But it fit her so perfectly.  It seemed to conform to every curve of her figure.  She was so nervous.  But she was brave.  Jeanne and Justin arrived at midnight.  I don't know what instinct women share, but Jeanne's dress was as tight and erotic as Annette's.  The ring glinted on its chain around her neck.

Jeanne turned her back on Justin and lifted her hair. Her arms were smooth and toned.  He unzipped her, and she seemed to emerge from the dress, her body revealed by inches as it peeled away.  She only wore a dark blue thong, and her heels.  Her breasts were full and heavy and firm.  Her nipples were raging hard, easily as thick and long as the end of her fingers.  Her nails were lacquered red and shaped to dagger points. 

I stepped forward and unzipped Annette.  Her reveal was just as erotic.  Her creamy skin.  Her breasts, pink-tipped and rigid, the overhead lights casting shadows over her curves.  Her hard belly and ass. Her perfect legs.  The triangle of her white thong that barely covered her silken mound.  She was an angel in female form, her auburn hair tumbling loose.

I had left the lights low.  When Justin and I stepped back with their dresses, the two women stood face to face in semi-shadow.  Two statues.

Then, her face twisting into a snarl, Jeanne slapped Annette, the sound a sudden gunshot crack.  Annette twisted at the waist.  With instinctive graceful balance, Jeanne stepped into her, hooked her other hand into Annette's body, a closed fist, her bicep bunched hard, her body weight driving her knuckles into Annette's breast. 

Annette made a sound, a desperate agonized sound.  Jeanne's hands plunged into her hair, nails into her scalp. She dragged her stumbling sideways, flung her sprawling to the floor.  Annette on hands and knees, her head bowed.  I closed my eyes. 

"Get up," Jeanne hissed. 

Annette gathered her legs and stood.  Jeanne gripped her hair again, wrenched her head back, held her like that for a long, shuddering moment.  It was dominance, displaying her, her throat exposed, her breasts swaying. She let go with one hand and used that hand, five fingers in a claw grip into Annette's breast, nails buried. That sound again, from deep in Annette's soul, rising to a shriek as Jeanne pulled on her breast, dragging it down, stretching it. 

"You're a fucking weak cxnt," Jeanne lashed her with words.  "Too weak to keep a man. Too weak to even keep a ring!"  Instead of pulling, now she crushed Annette's breast against her ribcage, forcing her fingers deeper.  She threw her to the floor again, to her hands and knees.  She spit on her back.  She gripped her hair and jerked her head back again.  Instead of a knife across her throat, she raked Annette's breast, the same one.  Five livid lines. 

Annette was sobbing now.  Pain twisting her face.  Jeanne squeezed her breast cruelly, four fingers curled up into its lower hemisphere, thumb stabbing down behind her nipple.  The ring swung on its chain like a pendulum as Jeanne bent forward.  Her lips were pulled back from her teeth. 

"Enough." Justin's voice was shaken.  "That's enough, Jeanne. Let her go."

"No," she answered, and her voice was cold and cruel.  She squeezed deeper and twisted her hand. Annette on her knees jerked and screamed as her breast malformed, bulging between Jeanne's fingers.  Her pink nipple protruded, hard and engorged.  "I let her up last time and she came back more.  This time I maim her...."

Annette's fist whipping up into her face ended that promise.  Jeanne staggered back, shocked. Her lower lip was split open.  Blood.  Annette rose and hit her again in her mouth. Then her body.  Her belly and her breasts. She buckled her in half and gathered her dark hair in both hands and dragged her stumbling to a table against the wall and she smashed her face against the polished surface of its top. 

I let out my breath before I even realized I was holding it. 

Annette lifted Jeanne's face. More blood, now from her nose, running over her mouth, dripping on the table.  With both hands Annette drove her face into the oak again. Jeanne slumped to a contorted sitting position on the floor, her arms and head still resting on the table top.   Annette dropped behind her, and sank her nails into her breasts.  Jeanne moaned.  When Annette's nails broke her skin, she jerked, and screamed. 

Then she flung her head back so that her skull crunched into Annette's face. 

Both women lay stretched on their sides on the floor.  Their breathing was harsh, sobbing, asynchronous.
Justin moved, as if to start forward.  "Don't," I said, and he stopped.   

Both women slowly climbed to their feet. 

Jeanne clenched her hands together and swung them together like a tennis backhand and the club of her two fists together hit Annette in her face.  Annette twisted and staggered and Jeanne jerked her head back by her hair and wrapped her arm over her throat and around her neck in a dragon sleeper choke.  Annette's spine bowed, her breasts tilted out, her pelvis thrust forward.  The camel toe of her pussy was evident through her thong. Jeanne locked her arm tighter as Annette sagged, her body gleaming with sweat. 

Jeanne was methodically cruel.  Her nails raked across each of Annette's breasts, again and again. Each time, she dug furrows in her flesh. Each time, the fluid globe of the redhead's breast was dragged flat. Each time, Jeanne's center nail caught briefly in the engorged texture of a cherry nipple before tearing loose.  Annette was trapped and helpless, shuddering and sobbing as Jeanne carved her blood-streaked marks. 

Then Jeanne's hand slid down Annette's tensed belly, the same path my mouth now knew so well. She gathered the slim triangle of her thong into a narrow band of fabric framed by her swollen labia, then sawed it into her pussy. Each upward drag brought the pearl of Annette's clit into view for a split-second, each time more red, more raw.  Then the thong ripped. Jeanne left it hanging around Annette's hips and sadistically dug her center nail into her pussy, into her clit, dragging it up and out. 

Annette's convulsion of agony tore her free of Jeanne's arm around her neck.  The brunette simply let her fall to the floor.   She stared down at her, huddled on her side, and licked her fingers.  Almost trance-like, she took the chain from around her neck, with its ring. With her foot she pushed Annette's hip until the redhead turned onto her back, her legs apart, her breasts torn and slumped in defeat. Jeanne sank to her knees. 

"He's mine now," Jeanne said.  "But I think I will give you back the ring. To remind you."

She thrust the ring into Annette's pussy, her fingers forcing it deep.  I closed my eyes again but nothing could shut out the shriek of the diamond cutting into Annette's g-spot. When I looked again, what I saw was Jeanne's eyes, mad with power, with total dominance, as her fingers finished her rival, as Annette's scream died away and her body went limp. 

Justin went to the bar and returned with a wet cloth and washed the blood from Jeanne's face and breasts.  She still stared down at Annette. 

"This time," she said, "this time, I didn't leave her with any of her pride still intact.  Tell her I said that, when she comes to."  She prodded one of Annette's breasts with her foot, pressing the pointed toe of her shoe into her.  Annette twitched in her unconsciousness. 

After they left, I took the ring and chain from Annette's body as gently as I could.  As I carried her to my car she stirred awake, and clung to me. 

Annette and I are still together. 

So are Jeanne and I, in a sense.  For a while, she and Justin would come to the bar together, revisiting their night of violence and victory.  Then she came without him.  One night she stayed until closing.  She stayed, and lifted her skirt and opened her blouse and I fucked her against the bar and she came three times before I came too.

"Is she ruined?" Jeanne asked as I slipped out of her.

I shook my head.

Jeanne's cruelty really had no limits. But I wasn't lying. She was wrong about Annette's pride.  It endured. 

"Don't wash it," Jeanne whispered. "I want her to smell me on you."

[catftluver]

You are a master storyteller sir!

[caryn1]

seems like Annette has a lot of problems coming her way.  did you tell ALL about work when you got home?

[Rocko23]

This was super super hot. Poor Anette lol.

[Hyori]

I find Jeanne so hot: a mean, sexy and cruel raven haired beauty. My type of girl

[bcw8]

I find Jeanne so hot: a mean, sexy and cruel raven haired beauty. My type of girl

Very much like you. 😉

[bcw8]