[Jackflash Jump]

Kiernan Shipka vs Dafne Keen



The luxurious penthouse high above Manhattan had played host to many battles, but few as intense as this one.  Although both still relative newcomers to catfighting, Kiernan and Dafne had demonstrated remarkable skill, fueled by an almost savage ferocity.  The elite gathering of spectators sat in rapt attention as both beauties pummeled one another in a contest that was largely a stalemate...at least until now.

It's hard to say just how Shipka managed to gain control of the fight.  Perhaps her endurance was proving superior, maybe Keen made some small tactical error that was imperceptible to the onlookers, but had not been missed by the eye of her adversary.  Or possibly the cosmic goddesses of warfare had simply decided to tilt the advantage to blonde.  But whatever the case, Kiernan was mercilessly slapping, kneeing, punching, slamming and stomping Dafne, rendering the quivering brunette all but hapless.

All that was left for Shipka was to finish off her rival.  But then she paused, as if she was pondering a sudden new idea.

Without a word, Kiernan grabbed Dafne by her damp and tangled dark mane and hauled her up to her feet, then dragged her stumbling over to the sliding doors which overlooked the penthouse's spacious balcony.  Throwing open the door, a blast of wintry night air blew into the room, and the blonde pulled the battered brunette outside.  They halted in front of a seven foot tall stainless steel statue sitting in the center of the patio, a replica of the famed "Valkyrie" piece.



The skimpy bikinis of the two combatants offered scant protection from the bitter air as it whipped around them, their skin already reddening from the cold.  But while Dafne was shivering, Kiernan...like a Nordic warrior queen...paid the winter no mind.  Using her foot, she pushed at the back of each of her rival's knees, forcing her to kneel in the snow before the statue.  Then, a malicious glint in her eye, her golden hair billowing in the breeze, Shipka threw a kick to her rival's kidneys, making Keen shriek in pain.  And at that same moment, the blonde pushed her victim's face forward, Dafne's tongue touching the metal statue.

And with that, the brunette's saliva instantly froze to the steel, trapping her there in an eternal kiss of the Valkyrie's foot.  Beaming with satisfaction, Kiernan turned and walked back into the penthouse, where one guest quickly threw his suit jacket over her to warm her.  Other guests rushed out to the balcony with a cup of warm tea, carefully pouring it over the mewling Dafne's tongue to gently melt the ice that fastened her to the statue.  That achieved, she was likewise brought back inside, where a hot shower could at least warm her up, if not wash away the emotional grime of defeat.  Shortly thereafter the loser was escorted back to her Midtown hotel, where she cried until the dawn.

As for Shipka, as the winner, she was granted complete use of the penthouse for a week, and the first thing she did was settle into a hot bubble bath in the sunken tub, sipping a glass of bourbon to warm her insides, and to bask in her triumph.

[Jackflash Jump]

Sarah Abbott vs Akira Akbar




Ordinarily, one would only find the major figures among the elite spectators who enjoy celebrity catfighting to be rearranging their busy schedules to make certain they can attend a match to do so for battles featuring only the very best among the veterans.

But an exception are those occasions when two young rookies make their debut matches together.  Should either or both go on to glorious heights of combat in the years to come, it would be a badge of honor for anyone to be able to say that they were there to witness their very first fight.

Such is the case on this night, when two fresh-faced 18 year olds, Sarah and Akira, face one another in a penthouse high above the streets of Manhattan before a select audience of a dozen.

From the moment both nubile young battlers entered the spacious living room, the air was electric with their intensity.  There was no denying the fact that both girls were determined to beat the other and establish her newborn fighting career with a victory.  And as the subsequent battle wore on, it was clear that each had been well-trained in catting combat, although their lack of experience was obvious.  Their bodies moved like young colts, often awkward and clumsy, but nevertheless with a sublime athletic grace overall.

It proved to be a tremendous battle, with the advantage swaying back and forth between the two, but with neither able to maintain control for long.  But ultimately, exhaustion threatened to doom both of them, as their sweat-soaked bodies quivered from their fast-fading strength, so Akira and Sarah each made one last-ditch effort to overcome the other.  They brawled ferociously, snarling like jungle cats as hair was yanked, flesh scratches, limbs twisted, and bodies hammered by merciless fists. 

Suddenly, after what seemed like an unyielding stalemate, one beauty managed to get behind her rival, and she snaked her right arm across her foe's throat, tightening firmly against her windpipe in a chokehold, while with her free hand she deftly covered her victims eyes; someone had obviously advised her that in the heat of battle, robbing your adversary of the primary sense of sight can put them into a panic, and reduce them to helplessness.  And so it proved to be now, as the embattled young woman, gasping haplessly for breath, could mount no counter greater than to feebly slap at the arm of her tormentor.  Soon enough, her movements grew sluggish and her wheezing slowed to a low pant.  And then her body went limp, signaling that she was knocked out.

The loser's body slumped to the carpeted floor and lay there, motionless save for the heaving of her chest as her lungs greedily sucked in oxygen, and an unconscious quiver in her right leg.  Tears trickled from her closed eyelids.

Rising up on unsteady legs, wiping damp hair away from her eyes, the triumphant Sarah planted her foot on Akira's belly and raised her arms, striking her very first victory pose, as the room erupted with the cheers of the enraptured onlookers.

[Lostchris]

Gracie Abrams vs Lilli Reinhart



The dimly lit penthouse suite buzzed with anticipation, the exclusive crowd encircling a makeshift arena where Gracie Abrams and Lili Reinhart faced their final moments. Gracie, in a black bra and panties, her dark hair disheveled, stood over Lili, who was sprawled on the plush carpet, her green bra and panties stark against her flushed skin. The air was thick with the aftermath of their grueling battle, and now, it was time to end it.

Lili, gasping, tried to crawl away, her limbs trembling from exhaustion. But Gracie was relentless. With a predatory glint in her eyes, she dropped to her knees, straddling Lili’s lower back. The blonde’s hands flailed, grasping at the carpet, but Gracie was too quick. She seized Lili’s wrists, yanking them backward and pinning them against her spine in a brutal single-arm hammerlock, twisting just enough to elicit a sharp cry.

“You thought you could take me?” Gracie whispered, her voice low and taunting as she leaned forward, her weight pressing Lili’s chest into the floor. The crowd murmured, sensing the end. But Gracie wasn’t content with a simple submission. She wanted to break her rival completely. Releasing one of Lili’s wrists, she reached forward, her fingers hooking under the straps of Lili’s green bra. With a savage tug, she ripped the fabric downward, the straps snapping as Lili gasped in shock, the humiliation searing.

Lili’s struggles intensified, her legs kicking wildly, but Gracie was unyielding. She slid her free hand under Lili’s chin, yanking her head back in a punishing camel clutch variation, forcing the blonde to face the jeering crowd. Lili’s eyes watered, her mouth open in a silent scream as pain radiated through her spine. “Say it!” Gracie hissed, tightening her grip. “Say you’re done!”

Lili’s voice was a choked whimper, her body quaking under the strain. “I… I give!” she finally sobbed, her words barely audible over the crowd’s roar. But Gracie, savoring her dominance, held the clutch a few seconds longer, letting Lili’s defeat sink in. Finally, she released her, shoving Lili’s face into the carpet with a sneer. Rising, Gracie stood tall, her black lingerie barely clinging to her sweat-slicked frame, as the spectators erupted in applause, her triumph over Lili absolute and merciless.

[Lostchris]

Chappell Roan vs Renee Rapp



The neon-lit bar pulsed with energy, the crowd’s murmurs barely audible over the thumping music as Chappell Roan and Reneé Rapp clashed in a heated showdown. Both had been vying for the attention of the same woman, a striking brunette watching from the bar’s edge, and what started as sharp words had erupted into a fierce brawl on the dance floor. Chappell, in a glittery pink crop top and leather skirt, her vibrant hair a wild halo, had Reneé, in a black bralette and ripped jeans, on her knees, the blonde’s face flushed with exhaustion after their relentless struggle.

Reneé’s chest heaved, her bralette slipping slightly as she tried to rise, but Chappell was merciless. With a predatory smirk, she grabbed Reneé’s wrists, yanking them up and twisting them behind her back in a double hammerlock. Reneé gasped, her body arching in pain as Chappell pressed her knee into the small of Reneé’s back, forcing her chest-first onto the sticky dance floor. The crowd, including the brunette, watched raptly, sensing the end.

“You thought you could steal her from me?” Chappell taunted, her voice cutting through the music as she leaned down, her pink crop top shimmering under the strobe lights. Reneé’s defiance flickered, but Chappell wasn’t after a quick win. She wanted to humiliate her rival. Releasing one wrist, she reached forward, hooking her fingers into the waistband of Reneé’s jeans and tugging them down just enough to expose the top of her black panties, drawing a collective gasp from the onlookers. Reneé’s face burned red, her free hand scrambling to cover herself, but Chappell’s knee kept her pinned.

In a final flourish, Chappell shifted her grip, sliding her arms under Reneé’s shoulders and locking her in a full nelson, wrenching the blonde’s head back to expose her flushed, sweat-streaked face to the crowd—and the brunette, who leaned forward, intrigued. Reneé’s legs kicked weakly, her jeans slipping further as she squirmed, her voice reduced to a choked whimper. “Stop… I’m done…” she rasped, her eyes squeezing shut in defeat.

Chappell held the nelson a beat longer, letting the bar’s patrons drink in Reneé’s submission, her glittery outfit a stark contrast to Reneé’s disheveled state. Then, with a dramatic flourish, she released her, shoving Reneé face-down onto the floor. Chappell rose, brushing her hands theatrically, and shot a wink at the brunette, who smirked in approval. As the crowd cheered, Reneé lay sprawled, her jeans and pride in tatters, while Chappell sauntered back to the bar, victorious and unchallenged, the brunette’s attention now firmly hers.