Test Match Tangle

[MikeHales67]

It's a long one. A long build-up but I hope you think it's worth it.
Many thanks to Rocko2 for the suggestion and my schooling on Cricket a subject on which I'm woefully ignorant.

Test Match Tangle

I don't like cricket, thought Riya. She was pissed.

Here she was, this young, gorgeous Indian woman in her early twenties, who had dolled herself up in a figure-hugging, white sleeveless short dress she had bought specially for the occasion. The dress showed off her legs to perfection, the rest of the package was not to be sniffed at. She looked more like a Bollywood actress than the accountant she was. And boy, was she pissed. Her boyfriend had hired a table at 'Walkabout ', an Australian-themed sports bar. Rather than watch the test match, India versus Australia at home, he'd decided they could come here and watch the match on the zillion-inch screen with his mates and get drunk and served food. She'd indulged him, let him have his little fun. She was used to being the centre of attention wherever she went; she wasn't worried about the competition from an overgrown telly screen.

But her boyfriend was more interested in the cricket on the wall-sized plasma TV than ripping off her dress and ravishing her. And the waitress...

Fer fuck's sake.

At least at home she could get up, pour some drinks, and bend, showing off her truly peach of an arse. Then lean forward to hand over a drink to her boyfriend, showing off her mouthwatering tits hanging like juicy fruit ripe for the picking, at which point, he'd normally fuck her right there and then on the spot, ignoring whatever was on TV.

But here. He was entranced by the fucking cricket, and that slut of a waitress was busy dangling her boobs in his face! And he loved it! Fucking slut. She sounded like a fucking Aussie. Bloody Tourists! Riya briefly considered ripping the bitch's hair out by the roots and stomping her tits into a new bra size.

Riya didn't take shit off anybody. She'd fought her way up to the top of the pecking order at university, where she'd met Sanjay. It was a cliché, but yeah, she won him in a fight. She still got weak at the knees thinking about the victory fuck after that one! Then she battled her way to the top in the office, taking on all comers from rival offices as well. And she'd defended her honour and right to fuck her man against an endless parade of bimbos who thought they were tough; she proved them all wrong, and she'd quite happily do it again. She thought about it.

Instead, she decided to order another drink.

 "Sheila! "

Isla, the waitress, not called Sheila, ignored her. Rude bitch. What did the gob almighty want now? She was sure she'd served the shrew ten minutes ago. She was just having some fun with the punters, showing off the assets God had given her: the luscious breasts, nipples jutting proudly out of her too-tight T-shirt, and her lovely pert solid arse. It had been a busy night; there was a new lad in the kitchen, and it felt like she'd spent most of the evening sorting out the orders. Dear God, she might as well have cooked the orders herself. She needed some fun.

"Hey Sheila!"

Isla didn't turn. She'd got customers to entertain, busy regaling them with the story of her encounter with a rabid drop-bear in the bush.

"HEY SHEEEE-LAAAAA!"

Riya shouted out across the room. There were a few people in Scotland who didn't hear her.

Slowly, Isla turned to face her. She was not wearing her happy face.

"Are you talking to me? My name's Isla. It says here," she pointed at her name badge, "Isla, I-S-L-A". You can read, can'tya?

"Sorry, I thought you people were all called Sheila". Riya lied.

"No, it's offensive..." Isla explained patiently.

"...it's like me calling you a curry-munching wog". She smirked; yes, she went there.

To Riya, it seemed the bitch was insulting her personally. She wasn't wrong.

"Just saying..." Isla added. As she idly wondered if she would still be such a loud-mouthed bitch with her fist shoved down her throat. Isla didn't take shit from anyone.  She grew up in the outback of Australia and had received the title 'Queen of the Bush' after a nasty knockdown drag 'em out with the reigning ex-queen. She maintained her title by beating the shit out of anybody who challenged her. She'd come over here to see the world, on her little walkabout, to meet new people and have a few good scraps. Find out if these Europeans could fight their way out of a paper bag. At the moment, the paper bags were winning.

 "...I would never dream of using such language with you guys". She looked at her male fans, pointedly not looking at Riya as she said it. Riya pictured again what that bitch would look like with those over-stuffed tits forcibly flattened.

The crowd cheered. Riya looked over; one of the players had hit a ball and was running between two wooden sticks. Riya noticed the wombat-shagging whore was looking distressed. Good.

 "Aw, umpire, ya blind muppet, he was L.B.W.!" Isla moaned.

 "No, he wasn't! The referee woulda seen it" came Riya's reply. Whatever the whore said was obviously wrong.

"It's a fucking umpire in cricket not a referee, muppet! And he was so L.B.W. you could see it from space!" Isla wasn't wrong. Even the India supporters nodded in assent; he was L.B.W. But what could you do? The umpire hadn't caught it. It was clearly the god of luck Ganesha favouring their side.

Isla snorted, "I bet you don't even know what L.B.W. is, do ya?" In Isla's humble opinion, gob almighty was only there to give her boyfriend hand jobs during the match.

 "Of course I do, and he wasn't!"

 "Well, what is it? Come on then, enlighten us. This should be interesting".

Riya's friends looked on. They knew how she had openly boasted about how she didn't like cricket, knew nothing about cricket, couldn't give a fuck about cricket. They were interested to see how she would answer this question.

Riya started stammering, looking around. The bitch was trying to make her look stupid in front of her friends, isn't she? She looked down. Her boyfriend was scribbling a note.

 "I'm waiting..." sang Isla.

 "Leg before wicket!"

 "Which means? I hope you're not one of those lightweights whose mouth signs cheques her arse can't cash!"

Riya could see Sanjay furiously typing on his phone; if she squinted, she could just about make out the text.

 "Oh, you don't wanna be around when I cash those cheques...love", Riya snapped back. Isla raised her eyebrows, muttering 'anytime' under her breath. Riya continued, "If a bowled ball hits the batter's leg or body instead of the bat and the umpire thinks it would have hit the stumps, then the batsman is out". She mouthed the words 'Thank You' to her boyfriend as she sat back down.

Isla slowly clapped.

Riya realised she'd had a lucky escape and would not lose face in front of that whore again. She spent the rest of the evening learning the rules of cricket from her boyfriend until she knew what those men were doing. Until she knew that it wasn't a Test match; it was T20, a shortened form of a test match; those can last up to five days. WTF!!!! Until she knew what an over was. Until...

"Hey Sheila, the Aussies aren't very good, are they?"

Isla turned to face Riya, obviously pissed off.

  "Let me explain it...". Riya smirked, she was going to enjoy this,  "...in case you think I'm too stupid to understand it" , which to be fair, Isla did think she was that stupid.

Sanjay wanted to see this. Had he converted her?

 "Austrailia has one hundred and sixty-five runs, and a run happens when the 'batter' hits the ball, and until the 'fielding' side can get the ball back the batter and the non-batter run like this" she mimed somebody running. "Swapping ends..."

 " ...now Australia are one hundred and sixty-five for four. Which means four of the batters either couldn't hit the ball and the piece of wood, the bails..." She smiled at her boyfriend, you see I paid attention.

"...flew off the stumps, or someone caught the ball without it touching the ground or," she held up her finger "I haven't finished...when they run between the 'stumps' they don't get back fast enough and the other side, the fielding side, has caught the ball and knocked over the bails". Riya did a minor bow. Her friends applauded, by George I think she's got it!

"Now in Tee-twenty. Which is different from a test match.  There are  ten overs per side. Now an 'over' is the 'bowler' bowling the ball at the 'batter' six times".
 "Bu...", Isla tried to butt in.
 "Ssssh I haven't finished yet!" Riya held up her hand.
 "She has been paying attention" thought Sanjay, he was impressed.
 "So Australia did their ten overs and could only score a shitty one hundred and sixty-five runs, whereas India are just short of Australia's score and if they can score two teeny tiny runs more. And they have three more overs which is eighteen more chances for the batter to hit the ball, then India will have kicked Australia's arse! "
Riya giggled and stuck her tongue out at Isla. Isla wondered what that mouth would look like with that fucking tongue ripped out. While Sanjay patted Riya's back impressed with her studying.

 "Listen, miss drongo...", Isla snapped. She shouldn't use such language to a customer, but at least she refrained from using the more colourful, mainly racist epithets she knew. Not in front of paying, tipping customers. "...Australia is beating India in the head-to-heads one hundred and forty-six to one hundred and fourteen".

  "Winning, heh? I bet if they got the right person, India would slaughter Australia in a head-to-head," Riya replied.

 "Slaughter? I think they'd go home crying to their mammas".

 "Oh, I beg to differ, I think Australia would be lucky to go home in a fucking ambulance".

 "You think?"

 "Oh, I know"

 "Care to have a go?"

 "Anytime!"

Riya was standing now. Her hands balled into fists. The audience actually turned from the cricket on the screen, looking to see how this situation was going to play out. Whispers of 'fight, fight' could be heard.

 "Not now, love" Sanjay was behind Riya now, his hand holding her arm.

"Leave it out; she's not worth it".

Sanjay then whispered so no one else could hear into her ear, the word,

"Later".

Slowly, Riya lowered her arm. Isla lowered hers.

 "We'll talk about this later, bitch".

 "Later!" promised Isla.

Isla went back to work at the bar, inwardly fuming. Riya sat down, her emotions bubbling up inside, planning how she was going to call that bitch out. But Isla beat her to it. Next time Sanjay, her boyfriend, went up to the bar. Isla was waiting for him.

 "Can you pass this to your girlfriend? She was asking about Tim Tams; here's the recipe for 'em."

 Sanjay didn't believe a single word, but as requested, Sanjay passed on the message. Riya looked at it.

Dear Bitch,

You seem to have a problem with me.  I suggest we meet up after the match in the old restroom and resolve our issues. Just you and me, no witnesses, no interference. I've included directions, assuming, of course, you can read.

I look forward to handing you your arse.  And I hope you brought a first-aid kit with you, or take the time to go get one NOW, 'cos you're gonna need it.

Eagerly expecting you

Isla xx

 Sanjay watched as she read the note.

 "Is it what I think it is?"

Riya looked up. Nodded.

 "Yeah, that aussie whore who slapped her tits in your face..."

 "Yeah but Ri...the gori are just for practice. You know I love my dark meat..." Sanjay protested. Riya carried on.
 "...challenged me"

 "...and you never refuse a challenge". Said Sanjay proudly.

 "No".

 "Where and when?"

 "Downstairs after the match"

 "You'll have to give me all the juicy details".

 "Don't I always? I will, I promise"

Sanjay smiled.

 "Your victory fuck awaits". He promised.

Meanwhile,

 "Hey boss, can I leave early tonight? I've got an appointment"

Mark, her boss, smiled.

  "Who with?"

 "A load-mouthed bitch"

 "Oh...another one..."

 "...in the old restroom again?"

 "Yeah, another bitch due for an attitude adjustment", Isla smiled.

 "Fuck me, again? We oughta sell tickets", he sighed. He had to admit it worked; any belligerent female customer who the male security officers couldn't handle would get invited down to the old restroom for an 'attitude adjustment', and yeah, after Isla had finished with them, they never made any more trouble. She was essentially their 'sheriff', enforcing the law of the land; they had even given her a badge.

 "Hey, get CCTV in there, and I'll let you watch, if I get my cut", she smiled.
 
 "Okay, I'll let you go. Get her good, slugger"

 Isla strolled out to the locker room, hips swinging provocatively.

 "I always get her good, boss".

Meanwhile back at the impromptu party celebrating India's win...

 "I gotta slip out for a bit", Riya apologetically said to her boyfriend. The match had finished, India had won, and everybody was psyching themselves up for the afterparty.

Sanjay nodded.

 "Your appointment?"
 
 "My appointment", Riya concurred.

 "This won't take long..."

 " ...after all, I don't wanna miss my victory fuck".

Riya smiled seductively, licking her lips with relish, as she walked out the door. As she walked down the corridor, she heard the party music and sounds fade into the distance behind her. She followed the instructions, and soon she stood outside the old bathroom. She felt the usual giddy feeling in her body, her nipples hardening, that heady feeling of fear and anticipation. Fight time.

She entered the restroom. Well, it used to be the bathroom, but then it was closed for refurbishment; that was two years ago...budget cuts and the work never moved forward. It still had lights and running water, but it was an untidy mess. Litter from the workmen; the wooden stalls had seen better days. One day they would find the money and finish the upgrade, but not today.

Isla had found the place after a few weeks of working at Walkabout. Back in Oz, Isla would invite any girl who displeased her out into the bush where they would discuss things until Isla had beaten the shit out of the bitch. But this was England, no empty deserted deserts and the weather! Isla had immediately seen this place's potential as a place to settle disputes.

Riya walked in and started preparing herself for the upcoming battle.

Shortly after Isla walked in, she confidently strode into the deserted bathroom. She smiled with total self-assurance at Riya, surveying the abandoned bathroom; the scene of many a well-deserved victory. She owned this place. Isla might have looked like a curvy, over-stuffed bubble-headed blonde. But look closer. Isla had grown up in the outback. Although not built like the proverbial brick-shithouse, she was wiry; those legs were pure muscle. Look closer, and you could see the faint scars of scratches and bites, souvenirs of the skills she had honed in many a bush catfight, which she always won.

Isla had changed out of her uniform; she didn't want any damage coming out of her wages. She'd put on a grey T-shirt that was still too small for her and a pair of denim shorts which were, likewise, too small and looked sprayed on.

 "You showed up then?" Isla asked.

 "I wouldn't miss this for the world!" Riya snapped back.

 "Did you bring your first aid kit?"

 "I'm not the one who's gonna need one!"

 "You think?"

 "Oh, I know"

 Isla snorted in derision.

 "Ready for your beating, little wog?"

 Isla didn't approve of such language, but the point of trash talk is to anger your opponent and stop her thinking.

Casually, she bent down, untying the laces of her sneakers. As she did this, she asked,

  "Do you wanna establish any rules?"

 "Rules?" Riya looked puzzled. "This is a fight to the finish. We don't need no stupid rules?"

Isla was standing now, smirking, idly twirling her sneakers by the laces.

 "Sweet!"

Without hesitating, Isla swung the sneakers into Riya's face. Riya yelped, her hands trying to get the sneakers out of her vision. Hissing in satisfaction, Isla followed by smashing her fist into Riya's face. Riya staggered back.

Isla grabbed her head, smashing Riya's face into the mirror; it cracked. Blood streamed from Riya's nose, staining the mirror. With one hand, Isla twisted Riya's arm painfully, provoking another yelp. Her other hand reached for Riya's head and plunged it into the cold water sitting in the basin. The water bubbled furiously as Riya tried to scream.

The Aussie dragged Riya's head up. Water dripped off Riya's head as she coughed.

 "Not so gobby now, are we?... " The blonde crowed into Riya's gasping face.

 "...you're in over your head!"

Riya's scream was cut short as Isla plunged Riya's face back into the sink. The water boiled, as it slowly turned red from Riya's blood.

 "Arrgh-" screamed Riya, but all that could be heard was bubbles.

Riya's hand shot out behind her, giving Isla's twat a good squeeze. She couldn't get through the cut-offs, and the thong Isla wore underneath. She just brutally squeezed through the shorts. That was good enough. Isla screamed and dropped the head.

Riya grabbed Isla's left tit, pulling her in for a knee to the stomach.

 "Fucking Kangaroo Shagger!"

Riya cursed as her knee embedded itself into Isla's belly. She gasped, air exploding from her mouth. But as she gasped, she grabbed the knee and yanked. Riya went down on her arse with a thump. But Isla still had Riya's leg; she pulled. Dragging Riya along the dirty floor.

Riya yelled, furiously flailing her legs. One caught Isla in the face. She dropped the leg and staggered back.

Riya leapt to her feet. Her hard right fist slamming into Isla's torso. While her left tried to get Isla's head in a headlock. But Isla wiggled her head; Riya couldn't get a good grip.

 "Fuck it"

Instead, Riya went to work on Isla's pretty face. Her nails gouging bloody tracks, Isla squealed. She sent her fist into Riya's stomach, finding her solar plexus. Riya's eyes went wide in shock and pain; she bent, clutching at her stomach, into Isla's rising fist. Riya felt something in her nose pop. Her head snapped back. Blood from her busted nose sprayed on Isla's T-shirt.

 "Bitch, I liked that shirt"

Isla's right hook sent Riya's head to the left; spit, saliva and blood speckled the restroom. The left hook sent her head the other way. There was a faraway look in her eyes.

 "Bitch"

Isla slung Riya into a toilet stall. The door crashed as the bolt broke and Riya vanished inside.

Sensing no movement, only moaning, Isla walked over to the stall. Peering in, she saw Riya slumped over the toilet bowl like a rag doll.

 "Okay, bitch, time to end..."

Too late she realised, the moaning had suddenly stopped.

 "...Fuck!"

The door swung hard into Isla's face. Following through, Riya's foot swung up, catching Isla under her chin, slamming her back. Then Riya charged. Crashing Isla face-first into the wooden wall. Then, reversing, slammed her back into the opposite wall. While Isla was momentarily stunned, Riya forced her head down into the toilet bowl, but Isla's head bounced off the rim.

  "Get in", Riya cursed.

She lifted Isla's head, then down. Thump. Again, Isla's forehead hit the rim; this time she was resisting, tensing her neck muscles. Riya just cursed and strained, finally forcing her skull lower, finally getting her head in the dirty bowl, and flushed. There was a gargled scream.

Riya cackled. She pulled the head up, looking her in the eyes.

 "Like it? Have another!"

 She pushed Isla's head down harder; this time there was less resistance.

And flushed. Well, she tried. There was no resistance on the lever; the water tank was empty. The ancient tanks were unable to fill on command.

Riya angrily flushed. And again.

 "You talk too much!" Isla's hand shot out, clawing at her enemy. Riya yelped, losing her grip, then Isla's fist smashed into her face. Riya rocked back against the walls of the stall. Her face turned into a snarl. Riya's right hook knocked Isla back; she caught herself with her hands.

Riya grabbed the blonde's hair, wrapping the strands  around her fingers; she pulled Isla's head in for a knee slam.

 "Bitch, don't you walk through my words...".

Isla's forehead bounced off her knee; she pulled her in for another blow.

"...you gotta show some respect".

Isla crossed her arms in front of her face. Riya's knee hit her hands. Isla grabbed the knee and pulled up. Riya fell back and hit her head on the wall. Stars exploded across her vision.

Isla knelt beside Riya, looking her in the eyes. She spoke gently, almost kindly.

 "My God, your face is a mess", Isla commiserated.

 "You ain't got me out yet!" Riya mumbled.

 Isla wasn't as sure. Riya's face was covered in bruises, with two matching black eyes and blood running from her forehead, nose and lips, mixing lazily with the sweat that drenched her face.

 "Did I do that?" Isla giggled.

She carefully, gently, lovingly brushed Riya's hair from her forehead, revealing the cut, bruised flesh that lurked beneath.  Isla held Riya by the throat against the wall of the stall.

"Here, let me fix it"

Isla reached behind her, grasping the object she noticed earlier when her head was being dunked; a toilet brush.

 "Nnnnrryaaa!"

 Riya screamed as the brittle, hard bristles were scraped along her forehead, digging into her cuts. Relief came as Isla stopped brushing.  She stared at the scoured flesh, she looked concerned.

 "Aw, there's still a load of brown that won't come off".

Isla's brush strokes turned vigorous scrubbing now, the angry red flesh starting to bleed. Riya's screaming turned hysterical. Her flesh was being sandpapered off, the expression being skinned alive came to her. Her hands flailed. Isla was crowing now.

Riya's fists shot out like a jackhammer hitting Isla's substantial rack.  Her T-shirt did nothing to protect her, as her nipples and breasts were driven deep into her chest cavity. Isla bellowed in pain like a wounded animal. Instead of withdrawing her fists once they'd made the blow. Riya wrapped her fingers round Isla's nipples and pulled; fresh agony shot through Isla's body. The toilet brush clattered to the floor of the cubicle.

Isla's hands automatically went for Riya's face, then she stopped and started pulling Riya's nipples, adding a savage twist. Riya started screaming. Their screams and bellows formed a perverse duet. As they tore and gouged at each other's racks.

Releasing a hand from the tit torture, Riya grasped the back of Isla's T-Shirt. Pulling it over her head.

 "Lezbo bitch!" Isla cried out as she released her tit hold and ripped open Riya's dress like she was opening curtains. Riya didn't care; she had her objective: the T-Shirt over the bitch's eyes. The fact that she was giving irrefutable proof that the slut wasn't wearing a bra was just gravy.

Riya kicked the bare tits, sending Isla skidding back along the floor into the basin. Manically thrashing, trying to get out of the straitjacket Riya had created, Isla used her feet to move away. Riya took a moment to admire her handiwork, then reached towards the blonde and grabbed her shorts. She tugged. God, those shorts were on tight; maybe they really were sprayed on. Eventually she got them down around her thighs, revealing a teeny tiny black thong. That's enough. Spitefully, she slapped Isla's arse, leaving a bright red mark, then she clawed the buttocks, adding four bloody track marks.

As she stood, the torn-open dress slid down to Riya's feet, absently, she kicked it off. Like Isla, she didn't wear a bra, leaving her in only her French-cut thong. She didn't care; she had work to do on her trussed-up little friend crawling away like a caterpillar. Pathetic really.

Taking a step back, Riya took a penalty shot at the thrashing blonde's belly. A muffled scream came from the blonde's mouth; the blow lifted her off the floor, her body jack-knifed. She tried to kick back, but the shorts held firm. Riya kicked the head; a dark pool formed in the T-Shirt covering her face.

Riya looked down at her hog-tied foe. She saw blonde hair peeking out behind the thong.

 "Yuck, is that what they call the bush? Here, let me tidy it up".

Riya bent down to tear out a clump of pubic hair; Isla felt the pain starting as the hair was pulled away by the roots. Riya should have stomped the bitch into oblivion, but she couldn't resist some painful humiliation. The blonde whore's trip to insensibility could wait.

 "Cunffff!"

Isla sat up like a bolt. She couldn't see the bitch, but she knew exactly where the bitch was. Her forehead hit the side of Riya's head like a hammer. Riya staggered back to clear her ringing head while Isla thrashed at the binding T-Shirt. She tore at the shirt, Getting her arms free, she threw the T-Shirt at Riya, who was still recovering. Then she pulled her shorts off, no time to squeeze them back on now.

She stood. They both faced each other. Clad only in their thongs; Riya's white and Isla's black, hair like wet mops and bodies covered in bruises. The blood from their wounds mingled with the sweat they were both drenched in, glistening in the neon light of the restroom.

Isla charged at Riya while she was still trying to get her head clear; she yanked Riya's head, pulling it straight into her raised knee. Giving her no time to recover, she clamped her arms around Riya, trapping her arms and squeezing. Riya threw her head back and gasped. Isla started crowing; Riya panicked. Her arms were trapped; she tried for a knee to the groin, but Isla blocked her, still looking cheerful. She had the bitch. She had her.

Riya's head smashed into her face; more blood, she thought she heard something snap. She hit her head again; she felt the wet, sticky sensation of blood in her hair. Her bloodlust was not satisfied; her mouth went for Isla's ear, and she bit down hard, shaking her head like a rabid animal. Growling. Riya's fist slammed into Isla's stomach. Isla gasped. Her fist buried again in Isla's stomach, twisting her fist in deeper to churn her guts. Isla croaked. As Riya tasted blood, Isla screamed.

Isla's hands went for her face; Riya shut her eyes as Isla's thumbs pressed into her eyeballs. She could feel the eyeballs starting to give way as Riya screamed, pushing Isla away.

Riya leant against the stalls panting, her breasts rising and falling in heavy gasps. She was exhausted, but she knew she had to continue. No matter the cost. She would not be defeated by this Gori.

Isla staggered over to her, her legs buckled, but she continued. Her body was covered in sweat, blood and bruises. Like Riya, she was on the verge of exhaustion, but she had to continue to put this slag in her place. She was almost there.

Riya was leaning against one of the toilet stalls, gently sobbing. Isla looked out at her through her swelling eyes. She gently held Riya's chin.

 "Dear love", she spoke softly, almost kindly.

 "You wanted a fight to the finish. Well now you've got one..."

 "...bitch!"

Her hand slammed Riya's head into the hard, unforgiving wood of the stall. A loud crash reverberated around the restroom. Riya staggered, dazed. Isla's foot kicked her thong-covered arse; Riya fell into the stall, hitting its wall.
 
Isla dashed towards her victim, arms outstretched. Her attack was halted; Riya grabbed the right hand and swung Isla into the wall. A follow-up blow to the back hit her liver. Isla screamed.

Arms out, she swung Riya into the wooden side of the stall. Riya hit the wooden wall face first; she felt herself slump down to the floor. Her eyes looked at the rubbish on the floor. No, she would not let it end here. Like this.

She blindly kicked up, hitting Isla full in the face. Stumbling in slow motion, Isla hit the wall, but she kept her hands out. She was exhausted, but so was the bitch. Determinedly, Isla turned to face her foe. It would be the end for one of them soon.

This was not over.

 "It's over, bitch!"

Riya smirked as the toilet brush tore into Isla's twat, the thong doing nothing to protect her from the violation being inflicted on her.

Isla's eyes rolled; only the whites were visible.  She did not scream; her lips formed a circle. A small whimper. Agony overwhelmed her senses.

Riya twisted the brush, slashing it up, trying to carve Isla in two, like she was gutting her. More sobbed whimpers as the brittle brushes of the brush raked the soft, sensitive flesh. Isla whined piteously; there was the pain, sure, but more than that was the realisation of the unthinkable. That she had lost. She...had...lost. Here in her domain. Defeated. A single tear ran from her eye down her cheek.

Riya grinned; she'd won; now she had to break her. Now she had to say it. Throwing away the toilet brush. Thanks for the idea, bitch. She shoved Isla to the floor, face-first.

Straddling her victim, she clasped her neck in a camel clutch. Isla felt her neck jerk violently back. She started to turn red.

 "Who's the better cricket team?"

Silence.

Riya jerked Isla's head back again and again.  Her muscles were straining, even more sweat running down her half-naked body. She had won. That kangaroo-fucker was the toughest bitch she had ever fought. There had been moments when...no unthinkable.

This was the part she loved. The dying of the light. When some big-mouthed girl would swagger in and boast of how she would take Sanjay from her, and then she would crush them. Didn't matter what; their tits, their throats, their pride. She always crushed them. She got to see the dying of the light. That recognition that they had lost. That their dreams of being with Sanjay; dust. All their hopes and dreams of victory, glory; dust. Crushed by the hands of the better woman. She loved it.

Now just say it, madarchod, say it. Come on, come on.

Isla's mouth opened and closed, opened and closed. She was trying to say something. Come on, come on.  Eventually she said it.

 "In-dia", Isla finally gasped.

 "Louder", Riya commanded.

 "India, India, India..."

Then the dam burst; the waters started to flow; that one tear became a flood.

"...please...India...India...please".

 "Good girl..." Riya whacked the back of Isla's head, then turned her over so they were eye to eye.

 "Well."

 Yes, she wanted that victory cock. But a little appetiser couldn't hurt, could it?

Isla looked up into Riya's rapidly dilating big brown eyes. She knew what was coming next. There would be no mercy. Hell, she'd face-fucked enough bitches in the past, usually in front of a cheering audience.

It seemed slow-motion surreal, like a dream. Only there was no waking up, was there? With practised ease, she had done this before, hadn't she?  Riya pinned Isla's arms with her knees, then slipped her thong down, baring her shaved pussy.

 "Lick it!" She commanded.

Isla hesitated too long. She felt the hard, stinging slap.

Riya spread her legs; the small slit became a yawning chasm.

 "Oooh, it smells like curry!" Isla sniped, in a last act of insolence.

Riya's retaliation was brutal and effective. Her fist pistoned out into Isla's nose; blood splattered over her face.

 "Don't!"

It was all that she said; it was enough. Isla acquiesced; she gently lifted her head. Her tongue traced small jerky circles around the damp flesh, like a trapped baby bird. Riya gasped at the touch of the warm, soft, beautiful rough object inside her. Involuntarily, she began rocking. She was lost in a rhythm that seemed so right, so perfect. She could feel the wave building inside her. Ever higher, consuming her. Trapped inside Riya's thighs, Isla's smooched face was transformed into a caricature of a kiss.

Riya's body tensed. Waves of pleasure washed over her. She groaned. She could see that orgasm floating in the distance, that rhythm, that rhythm. It was coming...coming...

Cum.

"JAAAAAIIIIIIIIIII!"

It started as a low growl, the pitch slowly rising, until it turned into a shriek, as Riya lost control.

Riya's eyes were closed. She gasped. She realised she was staring at the neon lights on the ceiling. How long? Riya was panting hard. She looked down at her crotch. Shit. All the bitch's blood made it look like she'd just menstruated.  She needed to wash. She stood up, adjusting her thong back in place. She moved to the taps. Isla started to rise; she felt Riya's foot on her breast.

 "You don't get to clean yourself!" Riya prodded the breast hard. She held out her hand.

 "Now hand me your thong!"

Isla slowly removed her thong and handed it to Riya. Riya twirled it over her head.

 "Now, let's go and tell everybody the news".

The celebration of India's victory was in full swing. It stopped suddenly as Riya walked in. Stunned silence. The crowd stared open-mouthed at the sight before them. Riya's dress was gone. Her magnificent body was clad only in a small white thong, covered in cuts, bruises, sweat and blood.  She was leading a naked, sobbing Isla into the room, crawling on her hands and knees by the hair. Isla looked as beat up as Riya, who was twirling Isla's black thong above her head.

Riya hauled Isla's body up to the table, then she climbed up so she was standing over Isla. She held her arms up to get everybody's attention. She needn't have bothered; the crowd was transfixed by her.

 "Ladies and gentlemen. Your slutty whore of a waitress has something to tell you"

She looked down at the tearful Isla.

 "As we rehearsed", she commanded, prodding Isla with her foot.

 "C'mon"

 "I-In-India is the b-b-best cricket team in the world..." Isla spoke in a distant voice. Was it hers? She could not believe the words coming out of her mouth, and none of her friends could either.

 "And..."

Riya looked down at her. Isla's eyes looked up, pleading. She would not beg. But the words. So alien, so foreign. Anything but this, please. She would rather have eaten pussy.

 " ...and Australia is the w-w-w-worst"

 "...and..." Riya was relentless.

 "th-th-they're shit! Australia are shit!" Isla burst into hysterical tears.

 "Good girl".

Mission accomplished, Riya looked down at Isla and spat on her.
 
 "Next time I come here, and I will. I want better service".

With that, she leapt down from the table to meet her adoring fans. Leaving the wailing Isla to contemplate her loss. Her mortified co-workers, stunned by what had happened to their champion, their beloved 'sheriff'.

 "Are you okay?" asked Sanjay.

 "Yeah, but that bitch got me good"

 "Yeah, but you got her better..." Sanjay smiled proudly. She was so fucking hot.

 "...you wanna?"

 "Yes!"

Riya thought he would never ask. Couldn't he see her rock-hard nipples pleading with him? Victory had made her so horny. She crossed her legs, trying to hide the evidence of the Niagara Falls that was gushing down her legs just thinking of the fucking to come.

 To the victor goes the cock

 "Where? I can't wait until we get home!"

 Riya licked her lips.

 "I know a place downstairs; we won't be disturbed" She grabbed his hand, leading him to the place where she had earned her victory and now the sweet celebration.

 "I didn't think you were into cricket", Sanjay asked, curious.

Riya stopped; she turned to her lover.

 "I don't like Cricket..."

He looked disappointed.

"Oh", was his reply.

Then she grinned, her face lighting up.

 "...I love it!"

[preciosa.]

What a piece!
Love it.

[caryn1]

Going to try and read it might be tough since I don't know a whole lot about cricket 🏏

[MikeHales67]

Let me know how you get on.

There is no need to know much about cricket. It could have been football, netball, tiddlywinks. I just found it intriguing because cricket is the least likely sport to incite a fight. My knowledge of cricket is very limited as the first time I played it at school I got hit on the head by a cricket ball ( they're made of wood and they're HARD!). Never wanted to go near the sport since.

[MikeHales67]