[Dirty bad bitch]

The following story is entirely fictional, and was largely written by AI based on a rough plot, a prologue and asking the AI software to decide who wins the beach catfight. 

This is the 1st installment of a series of 5-6 stories that are sort of related & intended to following chronologically on each other.  :glasses:

Also note that in this first installment:  my twin sibling, Sonny, is presented as one who has not yet identified as a male, and not yet started the transitioning process towards aligning more with a male identity.   

Hope some folks enjoy & get involved,    and please give feedback ... we love hearing from the fans!   

For those interested, have also put up a Poll at DeviantArt about who you MOST would like to see win in the 2 x 2 Beach Catfight below:

https://www.freecatfights.com/forums/index.php?topic=124004.0

- Sin Twins (Sonja and Sonny)

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

SIN TWINS CATFIGHT DOMINATRIX SAGA, No. 1

My name is Sonja Sin, and my twin sister is Sonny. We are both in our final year at Pepperdine University and love going to the beach to flaunt our bodies. Both of us are fit and strong, and go to gym regularly and play numerous other sport, but aren’t on any college team. We also enjoy using the punch bags in the gym, praising our kicks, punches, knees, elbows, often imagining ourselves clobbering our opponents until they were sobbing wrecks. Though we do work out with weights a little, our focus is more on aerobic exercise. Hence, we also enjoy a daily run of about 3 miles or so.

I suppose I’m bisexual, and have been with a couple of guys. However, my experience with them has been quite disappointing - they had no clue how to sexually please me, and were only interested in getting themselves off. So my preference currently is definitely women, though if a charming guy comes along, who knows? My twin sister, Sonny, is strictly a ‘butch dyke’ as she likes to think of herself, and is only into women, and likes to be the ‘boy’ in the relationship. It won’t surprise me, or our family, if one of these days, she decides to identify herself as a man, and starting using male hormones, etc. On the other hand, she still likes girly stuff, and like me, is not shy to show off her body, and enjoyed the attention we often get.

We had just recently each gotten a Wicked Weasel bikini, and were astonished at how small they were, and only barely covered us. More-over, since I’d gotten a neon-pink and my twin a white bikini, we were quite excited that when it became wet, our dark nipples were clearly visible as were our puffy pussy-lips underneath. It was like being completely naked on the beach, though still legally covered in the right areas - wink, wink!

While we usually like to have full, trimmed bushes, we had to almost completely shave off our pubes, only leaving a small narrow strip on our mons, which we thought looked quite sexy, and teasing, especially when we came out of the surf.



So that summer, Sonny and I, spent a lot of time on the beach, tanning, and swimming, enjoying the admiring and often lustful looks of the young men on the beach, and even a few women. We would especially be stared at when we came out of the ocean, drenched wet, our Wicked Weasel bikinis literally plastered to our bodies, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. Of course, knowing eyes were on us, made us sway our hips deliberately - sometimes even jogging out of the water, so that our small, firm tits would jiggle and bounce a bit - if you’ve got it, why not flaunt it, huh? Naughty giggle!



The lusty, admiring attention we’d get obviously drew the attention of numerous jealous bitches, and we’d nearly gotten into a number of nasty catfights. But they were all stopped by lifeguards or concerned boyfriends or husbands, which was a huge pity, as Sonny and I had often fantasized about getting into a furious fight with other women, then stripping and sexually humiliating, and dominating them. Sick and perverted as it may sound, the fantasy made us so fucking wet and horny. Perhaps arrogantly, the thought of us losing, and getting humiliated ourselves, never occurred to us. After all we were lean and mean and were confident in our fighting abilities.

We found a kinky site called Ultimate Surrender that dealt exactly with the sort of erotic catfight, wrestling fantasy we dreamed about. Often we’d re-enact and practice the moves while watching, even the sexual punishment phase. But we literally itched for a real life experience.

That bring us to today …

It is early in the morning, and we immediately spot two women, somewhat plump and curvy compared to us, but not fat. With them were their two boyfriends, one a bit lumpy but the other one more hunky and buff. We recognized the two women as Janelle & Beth, fellow college students, and knew they were on the women’s wrestling team. But we never thought much of wrestling as sport - to us it just seemed like mindless rolling around on the mat. We’d also seen them train at the gym, and to us they didn’t seem nearly as fit as we were.



“Mmm, I see the perfect spot …”, I whisper to Sonny, winking at her. Slowly we saunter over.

“You *sure* this spot’s not taken?” my voice was all honey and nails, loud enough to carry over the hiss of waves. my fingers lingered on the waistband of my thong, adjusting it just *so* as I dropped my towel—neon pink, aggressively small—right where Janelle’s boyfriend’s shadow should’ve been.

Across the beach, a kid dropped his ice cream cone. A seagull swooped in. Nobody breathed.

After a rejuvenating dip in the ocean, we strolled back casually to our towels, drops of water glistening on our toned, tanned bodies, fully aware of the angry glares from the two wrestling sluts - but proudly, with our wet Wicked Weasels, plastered to our bodies, showing off our perk bouncing tits and nipples, and the alluring cleft of our cameltoes.

Then my twin sister, Sonny, and I, make a show of adjusting our soaked dental-floss Wicked Weasel thongs, hips swaying as we towel each other’s shoulders off with slow, deliberate strokes. I winked at Sonny as I saw from the corner of my eye, Janelle’s nails dig into her Pina Colada cup. Her equally furious friend, Beth—soft-bodied in a floral cover-up—mutters, *“Someone oughta teach those two sluts a lesson.”*

Janelle’s boyfriend—Mike, his name was Mike, not that it mattered now—made a wet, strangled noise in his throat as I next bent over to unpack my sunscreen, knowing my thong would vanish between my butt cheeks and give a cheeky flash of my puffy pussy lips and that the silly goof had probably only ever seen blurred out on premium Snapchat. Beth’s straw snapped inside her drink. “Oh *hell* no,” she hissed, but Janelle was already moving, flip-flops kicking up hot sand as she stomped toward us.

Sonny — just as brutal, just as calculated — met her halfway, hips cocked, a smirk playing on lips glossed with something called “Daddy’s Credit Card.”

“Problem?” she purred, and that’s when Janelle’s drink *splattered* across Sonny’s tits and chest, sticky rum and coconut milk dripping between her tits and running over her muscled abs.

The silence lasted exactly one heartbeat.

Sonny looked down at her ruined bikini top, then up at Janelle with the slow, predatory focus of a lioness spotting wounded prey. “Oh, *sweetie*,” she sighed—right before slapping Janelle so hard her sunglasses went airborne.

Meanwhile Beth upends my beach bag, sending tampons, a vape pen, a silver vibrator, a purse dildo, scattering across the sand, my angry shriek cutting through the surf. *

“Oops,”* she sneers, toeing my expensive sunglasses into the tide. What happens next is pure, unfiltered chaos: I lunge, Beth grabs a fistful of my buzzcut, and suddenly it’s two-on-two, a tangle of flying sand, split lips, and bikini straps turned into weapons.

Beth charged as I twisted and managed to trip her into the surf, but she dragged me down with her. Saltwater sprayed as we rolled, Beth clawing at my face while I countered by twisting Beth’s nipple through her cover-up. The guttural yelp echoed down the shoreline.

TO BE CONTINUED ...

[SunnyB]

Oooh, darling Sonja ... thanks for this ... I'm so excited for this catfight ... MEWR!!! 

And folks, please VOTE about who you would MOST like to see win, and also WHY you'd prefer that outcome ... we're curious to know what turns folks on! 

- Sonny Sin

[Dirty bad bitch]

Thanks, Sonny, for posting ... but ummm, it looks like the majority of folks here ... judging by the poll ... want to see us beaten & humiliated ...   

But you & I have been through worse, haven't we  ... and still came out tops! 

- Sonja

[Dirty bad bitch]

Ok, without further ado, here's the conclusion of this fantasy catfight tale ...   

(Note that we let the AI software decide the winners ...  )

Sonny & I would appreciate your comments! 

- Sonja Sin

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

But wrestling instincts kicked in. Janelle twisted like an eel, rolling them both into the wet sand. Suddenly, Sonny was beneath her, legs pinned under Janelle’s meaty thighs. "Not so tough now?" Janelle spat, grinding her fist into Sonny’s clit through the soaked fabric, making her buck violently.

Beth, meanwhile, used her free hand to snake my own neon thong up my asscrack in a wedgie so savage I felt the fabric dig into my pussy lips. "Look who’s mooning the crowd, slut!" she crowed.

I arched, trying to knee Beth in the tits, but she countered by wrenching my arm behind my back in a hammerlock. Pain shot through my shoulder—and worse, humiliation burned my cheeks as she pressed her sweaty cleavage against my face. "Smell that? That’s loser," Beth hissed. Behind us, Sonny shrieked as Janelle grapevined her legs and yanked her white thong sideways, exposing her waxed pussy to the gawking crowd. "Say 'cheese,' bitch!" Janelle laughed, holding Sonny’s hips down while someone’s phone flash went off.

Unfortunately for us, technique trumped brute strength. Janelle’s thighs clamped around Sonny’s waist like hydraulic presses, her collegiate wrestling drills turning Sonny’s attempted reversal into a one-way trip to Faceplant City. Sand coated Sonny’s lips as Janelle ground her forehead into the shore, crowing, "Who’s the queen of this beach now?"

Beth, meanwhile, exploited every opening—her knee found my solar plexus, knocking the wind out of me as she wrenched my neon bikini top up into a makeshift garrote. "Choke on your own tits," she growled, twisting the fabric until stars exploded behind my eyelids.

But desperation breeds innovation. Gasping, I hooked a foot behind Beth’s knee and yanked — her grip faltered just long enough for me to sink my teeth into her inner arm (no breaking skin, just *pain*). She recoiled, and I rolled, straddling her thighs before she could reset. "Payback’s *bitch*," I spat, driving my elbow into her left tit with a satisfying *thunk*. Beth howled, but her wrestling reflexes saved her — she bucked her hips, flipping us again, her fingers scrabbling at my thong. The crowd roared as the floss-width fabric snapped, leaving me bare-assed and furious.

Sonny wasn’t faring better. Janelle had her in a modified camel clutch, arching Sonny’s spine until her abs quivered, her small 36A tits jiggling underneath her top. “Beg, bitch!” Janelle taunted, her thumbs digging into Sonny’s lower back.

But Sonny had trained for this — she went limp suddenly, sliding out of Janelle’s grip like oil, then *lunged*, driving her knee square into Janelle’s cxnt. The wet *smack* echoed. Janelle doubled over, and Sonny seized her hair, yanking her face-first into the tide. "Drink up, hog," Sonny snarled, grinding Janelle’s mouth into the sand.

I, meanwhile, had Beth in a makeshift rear naked choke—my neon bikini top now twisted around her throat, my thighs locked around her waist. Beth gagged, her fingers clawing at my bare thighs, but I just tightened the hold.

"Tap or nap," I hissed—until Beth *rolled*, using my momentum against me. Suddenly *I* was choking, her floral cover-up cinched around my neck like a noose.

The crowd roared as Beth straddled my chest, her soft belly pressing into my face. "Smells like *defeat*," she sneered, lifting her hips just enough to slam them down—*whump!*—onto my ribs.

I wheezed, but desperation sparked inspiration. My hand shot between her thighs, fingers *digging* into her pussy through her swimsuit. Beth shrieked, her grip loosening — just enough for me to flip her onto her back.

Sand sprayed as we rolled, Beth’s floral cover-up tearing loose under my nails. The crowd whooped as her tits bounced free, pale and soft compared to my bronzed tightness.

"That’s right," Sonny snarled nearby, mounting Janelle’s back in a brutal reverse cowgirl, grinding her bare ass into Janelle’s face. "Lick it, wrestle-twat!”

Beth bucked beneath me, her thighs slick with sweat. My knee found her cxnt—*thud*—and she gasped, her fingers scrambling for purchase in the sand. "Fucking *cheap shot*," she wheezed, but I just grinned, twisting her nipple hard between my fingers. "Should’ve stayed in your league, buttercup," I spat, slamming my elbow into her other tit. The wet *smack* drew cheers from the gathering frat boys, their phones flashing.

Beside us, Sonny had Janelle’s face mashed into the tide, her white thong now a frayed strap dangling from one hip. "How’s that sand taste, wrestle-bitch?" Sonny taunted, grinding her knee into Janelle’s spine.

But Janelle was *fast* — she hooked a leg around Sonny’s ankle and *yanked*, flipping them both into the shallows. Saltwater sprayed as Janelle straddled Sonny’s chest, her meaty thighs pinning Sonny’s arms. "Should’ve stuck to Instagram," Janelle sneered, ripping Sonny’s ruined top clean off. The crowd whooped as Sonny’s small, perky tits bounced free.

I couldn’t help her — Beth had me in a brutal headscissor, her thick thighs squeezing my temples until my vision pulsed red. "Gonna pop that pretty little head," she hissed, her damp legs reeking of sunscreen and victory.

But I wasn’t done. With a guttural snarl, I drove my thumb *hard* into Beth’s inner thigh — the one spot I knew would make her scream. Her legs spasmed, and I *lunged*, my nails raking down her belly to snag the waistband of her swimsuit. Fabric tore, and suddenly Beth’s soft, pale pussy was on display, her strip of pubic hair glistening under the sun. "Oops," I spat, kneeing her exposed cxnt *hard*. The wet *thwack* drew cheers from the frat boys circling us.

"Flip her, flip her!" Mike’s voice cut through the chaos. Janelle grinned, using Sonny’s own momentum against her — wrestling *drills*, goddamn it—twisting Sonny’s arm behind her back until she shrieked.

The wet sand clung to Sonny’s bare chest as Janelle mounted her from behind, grinding her tits into Sonny’s spine. "Bet you wish you’d stayed on the fucking treadmill," Janelle panted, yanking Sonny’s head back by her buzzcut. The crowd roared as Sonny’s face flushed crimson, her abs flexing desperately to buck Janelle off.

Beth wasn’t playing fair either. Her knee found my ribs—*crack*—knocking the wind out of me just as I tried to scramble up. "Should’ve stuck to yoga, Barbie," she sneered, grabbing my sandy bottom. A frat boy whistled. "Show us that pink, baby!" I snarled, twisting to rake my nails down Beth’s thigh—but she countered with a brutal tit-twist, making me yelp.

Janelle had Sonny in a textbook Boston Crab, wrenching her spine backward until her abs trembled. "Tap or I’ll *pop* you like a glowstick," Janelle growled, grinding her knee into Sonny’s lower back. Sonny’s face contorted, but she managed to spit sand into Janelle’s eyes. Sonny’s face contorted, but she managed to spit sand into Janelle’s eyes.

"Fuck your — *ugh!* — wrestling scholarship," Sonny gasped, bucking wildly. The momentary distraction was all she needed — Sonny flipped them, landing a knee *right* into Janelle’s exposed cxnt. A wet *thud* echoed, and Janelle’s scream mingled with the crowd’s cheers.

Meanwhile, I had Beth’s torn swimsuit wrapped around her throat like a leash, my bare ass grinding into her face as I wrenched backward. "Sniff it, pig," I hissed, feeling her hot breath against my moistening, aroused pussy. Beth gagged, her fingers clawing at my thighs, but I just tightened the makeshift garrote, watching her face flush purple.

Across from us, Sonny had finally turned the tide — literally. With Janelle’s face buried in the wet sand, Sonny straddled her back, using the remnants of her own ruined thong to bind Janelle’s wrists behind her.

"Who’s rolling now, wrestle-whore?" Sonny spat, yanking the knot tight enough to make Janelle whimper. The crowd erupted as Sonny flipped Janelle onto her back and—*smack!*—delivered a stinging spank to Janelle’s already-reddened ass cheek.

Beth bucked beneath me, her thighs slick with sweat and seawater, but I had leverage now. Twisting the torn fabric of her swimsuit tighter around her throat, I leaned down to hiss in her ear: "Should’ve stuck to baking cookies, butterball." With a vicious jerk, I hauled her upright just in time to see Sonny straddle Janelle’s face, grinding her bare, sand-crusted pussy into Janelle’s mouth. "Lick it clean, loser," Sonny commanded, fingers tangled in Janelle’s matted hair.

The crowd’s cheers crescendoed as Beth’s resistance faltered. I took advantage, flipping her onto her belly and kneeing between her shoulder blades. "Hold still," I snarled, yanking her arms back to cinch her own floral cover-up around her wrists. The fabric bit into her skin as I knotted it tight, then rolled her onto her back to admire my handiwork — Beth, flushed and heaving, her soft tits rising with each ragged breath, her thighs glistening with a mix of sweat and seawater.

Sonny wasn’t done with Janelle either. With a wicked grin, she peeled off the remnants of her own thong—now just a frayed strap—and looped it around Janelle’s throat like a collar. "Beg," she ordered, tugging the makeshift leash. Janelle coughed, her lips smeared with sand and Sonny’s arousal, but defiance still burned in her eyes.

Sonny’s response was swift—she grabbed Janelle’s torn bikini top and wrenched it down, exposing her full, heavy tits to the jeering crowd. "Say *thank you*," Sonny purred, delivering a stinging slap to Janelle’s left nipple. The sharp *crack* drew whistles from the frat boys.

I seized Beth’s moment of hesitation, flipping her onto her stomach and dragging her toward Sonny. "Time for a family photo," I announced, ripping Beth’s remaining swimsuit scraps off with one brutal tug. The crowd roared as I forced her face-first into Janelle’s lap, their bare asses gleaming under the sun. "Smile for the cameras, pigs," I sneered, kneeing Beth’s pussy from behind — *thwack!* — making her shriek into Janelle’s thigh.

Sonny, meanwhile, had dug into our beach bag, emerging with a tube of waterproof eyeliner. "Let’s make it *official*," she purred, crouching to scrawl "BEACH WHORE" across Janelle’s forehead in jagged letters. Janelle thrashed, but Sonny just yanked her collar-leash tighter, grinding her knee into the small of Janelle’s back. "Hold still unless you want ‘CUM DUMPSTER’ on your tits next.”

I seized Beth’s trembling thighs, flipping her onto her back and pinning her wrists above her head with one hand. With the other, I traced lazy circles around her dripping cxnt with my fingernail. "Look at you," I cooed, watching her hips jerk involuntarily. "All that wrestling training, and you still can’t stop your body from *begging*." The crowd howled as I suddenly sank two fingers inside her, curling them sharply — Beth’s back arched off the sand, her scream dissolving into a choked whimper.

Sonny, meanwhile, had Janelle bent over a cooler, her ass reddened from a series of sharp spanks. "Count ‘em, bitch," Sonny ordered, delivering another stinging slap. "*Four,*" Janelle gasped, her thighs quivering. Sonny grinned, yanking Janelle’s head back by the hair to face the leering crowd.

"Who wants to sign her ass next?" A frat boy immediately lunged forward, uncapping a Sharpie to scrawl "SPANK BANK" across Janelle’s left butt cheek.

Beth writhed under my fingers, her hips bucking despite herself. "As we thought ... wrestling’s just rolling around, isn't it?" I taunted, twisting my fingers deeper. Her thighs clamped around my wrist, but I just laughed, using my free hand to pinch her nipple hard. "Bet your boyfriend’s never made you clench like this," I hissed, feeling her inner walls flutter. The crowd’s jeers crescendoed as Beth’s breath hitched — then shattered into a broken moan, her back arching violently as she came against my hand.

Sonny, meanwhile, had Janelle bent double over the cooler, her ass now a canvas of Sharpie insults and handprints. With a savage yank, Sonny ripped Janelle’s remaining bikini scrap away, exposing her dripping cxnt to the whistling frat boys.

"Someone get me a beer," Sonny commanded, and Mike—Janelle’s own lumpy boyfriend—obediently handed her a half-finished Corona. Sonny upended it over Janelle’s upturned ass, watching the liquid trickle down her trembling thighs. "Open wide," she purred, shoving the bottleneck between Janelle’s cheeks—*pop!*—making her gasp as the cold glass pressed against her puckered hole.

Beth, still shuddering from my fingers, tried to crawl away—until I planted a bare foot between her shoulder blades. "Uh-uh," I tutted, dragging her back by her tangled hair. The crowd whooped as I forced her face-first into Janelle’s glistening cxnt. "Clean her up, bitch," I ordered, grinding Beth’s nose into Janelle’s folds. Beth gagged, but Sonny just laughed, twisting Janelle’s nipple hard enough to make her jerk—which only smeared Beth’s face deeper into Janelle’s arousal.

Mike, cheeks flushed, fumbled with his phone. "Say 'cheese,' baby," he croaked, zooming in on Janelle’s tear-streaked face. Sonny snatched the phone mid-record, angling it down to capture Beth’s tongue flicking weakly at Janelle’s clit — forced or not, Janelle’s hips twitched. “Fuck — *stop* — " Janelle panted, but Sonny just yanked her head back further. "Louder," she demanded, spanking Janelle’s ass with the phone. "*Make* him watch.”

The frat boys formed a tighter circle, someone tossing Sonny a fresh Sharpie. "Property of..." she scrawled across Janelle’s heaving stomach, then paused, grinning up at Mike. "Wanna finish the sentence?" Mike hesitated—until I knee-walked Beth forward, forcing her lips onto his limp cock through his trunks. "Or should your girlfriend?" I purred, pinching Beth’s nipple hard enough to make her moan around the fabric. Mike’s resolve crumbled. "*Property of Sonny*," he squeaked.

Sonny laughed, capping the Sharpie with her teeth before flipping Janelle onto her back. "Hold her legs," she ordered Mike, who obeyed like a kicked puppy. Janelle thrashed, but Sonny just smirked, spreading Janelle’s sticky thighs wide for the crowd.

"Let’s see what a wrestler’s really made of," Sonny taunted, sinking two fingers knuckle-deep into Janelle’s cxnt with a wet *schlick*. Janelle’s back arched off the cooler — *"Fuck you!”* —but Sonny twisted her wrist, curling her fingers up hard. Janelle’s next curse dissolved into a gasp.

I hauled Beth up by her hair, forcing her onto all fours. "Your turn, buttercup," I hissed, kneeing between her thighs to spread them wider. The crowd whooped as I snatched a discarded Corona bottle, pressing the chilled glass against Beth’s swollen clit. She shuddered, her ass jiggling as she tried to scoot away—until I spanked her hard with the bottle. *”Stay."*

Sonny, meanwhile, had Janelle’s legs hooked over Mike’s shoulders, her fingers pistoning in and out of Janelle’s cxnt with brutal precision. "Bet your coach never drilled you like this," Sonny taunted, twisting her wrist to rub Janelle’s g-spot raw. Janelle’s thighs trembled, her toes curling against Mike’s back as she bit her lip — hard — to stifle a moan.

I twisted the Corona bottle inside Beth, watching her hips jerk involuntarily. "Aw, does the little wrestler *like* being humiliated?" I cooed, dragging the glass up to circle her clit. Beth’s breath hitched, her forehead pressing into the sand as her body betrayed her. The crowd’s laughter crescendoed when her hips bucked back onto the bottle, a strangled whimper escaping her throat.

Sonny, meanwhile, had Janelle teetering on the edge—her fingers working relentlessly while Mike, red-faced, held Janelle’s thighs apart. "Come for the cameras, pig," Sonny snarled, sinking her teeth into Janelle’s inner thigh. Janelle’s back arched violently, her cxnt clenching around Sonny’s fingers as a ragged scream tore from her lips. The frat boys cheered, phones flashing, as wetness gushed over Sonny’s wrist.

Beth, writhing beneath me, let out a shuddering moan as the Corona bottle finally pushed her over — her pussy pulsing around the glass, her thighs trembling. "Pathetic," I sneered, twisting the bottle cruelly before pulling it free with a wet *pop*. Her hips jerked involuntarily, chasing the sensation even as tears streaked her flushed cheeks.

Sonny, meanwhile, wiped Janelle's arousal off her fingers onto Mike's gaping mouth. "Clean up your girlfriend," she ordered, shoving his face between Janelle's still-quivering thighs. The crowd erupted into cheers as Mike obeyed, his tongue lapping feebly at Janelle's swollen cxnt. Janelle's breath hitched—whether from humiliation or residual pleasure, it didn't matter. She'd *broken*, and everyone had seen it.

Beth, still shuddering from her forced orgasm, made the mistake of lifting her head. I seized her by the hair, dragging her face toward my glistening folds. "You wanted to wrestle?" I purred, grinding my wetness against her trembling lips. "Then *pin* me."

Beth's whimper was muffled as I lowered myself onto her face, my thighs clamping around her head like a vise. The salt-and-sweat tang of my arousal flooded her senses as I rocked forward, ensuring every inch of her tongue flattened against my swollen clit.

"Wrestling technique?" I sneered, grinding down hard enough to make her choke. The crowd's laughter surged as Beth's fingers clawed impotently at my thighs—her wrestler's reflexes useless against the raw, wet weight of my humiliation. "This is *biology*, bitch.”

Sonny mirrored me, her bare ass rising and falling rhythmically over Janelle's contorted face. "Mmm, taste that?" She rocked forward, smearing Janelle's lips with a fresh wave of arousal. "That's what *victory* feels like.”

Beth's muffled sobs vibrated against my throbbing clit, her tongue moving in weak, involuntary laps—untrained, desperate. No textbook wrestling drills could save her now. I leaned back on my elbows, watching Beth's nostrils flare as she fought for air between suffocating presses of my pussy. "You wanted to roll around?" I cooed, flexing my thighs tighter around her skull. "Here's your *gold medal*.”

Sonny braced one hand against the cooler, the other twisting Janelle's nipple as she ground her slick folds over Janelle's sand-crusted lips. "Technique’s cute," Sonny mocked, punctuating each word with a sharp downward grind. "But dirty wins *every* time." The crowd howled as Janelle's throat bulged — whether gagging or swallowing, it didn’t matter. Their humiliation was *complete*.

Beth’s muffled whimpers vibrated against my clit when I arched my back one final time, my thighs trembling as I came hard across her swollen tongue. The salty tang of victory dripped down her chin, mingling with her tears. Sonny followed seconds later, bucking violently against Janelle’s trapped face, her thighs shaking as she smeared her release across Janelle’s forehead like war paint.

We rose together, slick and gleaming under the afternoon sun, while Beth and Janelle collapsed onto their sides, coughing and spitting sand. The crowd’s laughter crescendoed as Beth wiped her mouth with the back of her wrist — only to freeze when she realized her own arousal streaked her skin. Janelle’s chest heaved, her mascara running in black rivulets past the Sharpie insults scrawled across her stomach.



Without a word, Sonny and I turned toward the ocean. The waves lapped at our ankles, cool relief against the sting of scratches and the burn of exertion. We waded deeper, letting the saltwater lick away the sweat, the musk, the proof of our dominance. Behind us, muffled sobs and hissed arguments carried over the surf—Mike’s whiny "Jesus, Janelle, you *let* them—" cut short by a wet, meaty *slap* of a palm against flesh.

The water reached our hips when we dove under, surfacing to slick back our buzzcuts. Laughing, I flicked a handful of seawater at Sonny. "Told you cardio mattered," she grinned, swiping her thumb over my split lip. The metallic tang lingered, sweet as victory.

We emerged like conquering gladiators, the afternoon sun gilding our oiled skin. The crowd parted — some whistling, others hastily pocketing their phones — but all eyes tracked the exaggerated sway of our hips as we strutted up the beach. Beth and Janelle were already gathering their shredded dignity (and swimsuit scraps), limping toward the boardwalk with Mike trailing behind like a kicked terrier. Sonny blew them a mocking kiss, her fingers glistening.

Our discarded Wicked Weasels lay where we’d left them—tiny triangles of lycra trampled into the sand. I scooped mine up with a toe, flicking it high with practiced ease. The crowd whooped as I caught it midair, dangling the damp thong between two fingers like a trophy. Sonny mirrored me, shaking out her own barely-there bottoms with a smirk.

We turned our backs to the retreating losers—Janelle hobbling with her arms crossed over her ravaged tits, Beth clutching Mike’s shirt like a human shield — and let the audience savor the contrast. Our bronzed asses gleamed under the setting sun as we stepped into the scraps of fabric one leg at a time, slow as striptease in reverse. The sand gritted against our wet skin as we shimmied the straps up our thighs, pausing to adjust the dental-floss seams with exaggerated tugs. Someone wolf-whistled when Sonny arched forward, flashing the crowd a glimpse of her still-glistening pout before the fabric slid home.

The twins—*winners*—reassembled. Sonny spun on her heel first, arms raised like a prizefighter, letting the whistles roll over her. I followed, rolling my hips to the rhythm of scattered applause, my fingers trailing down my stomach to hook into the waistband of the thong with practiced insolence. A college kid dropped his phone lunging for a better angle. The thong snapped back against my skin with a wet *thwack*, drawing laughter like a shared inside joke.

We collapsed onto our towels in unison, elbows digging into the warm sand as we stretched our legs out—long, bronzed, and bare except for those precious scraps of fabric. Sonny tipped her sunglasses down, her gaze drifting lazily over the beachgoers frozen mid-gossip. The air smelled like sunscreen and salt, victory and sweat. Someone’s Bluetooth speaker still played reggaeton, the bass thumping under the sound of waves and whispered *holy shits*.

My fingers traced the scratches on my ribs — raised, stinging, but worth every drop of blood spilled. Beth’s teeth marks on my inner thigh pulsed in time with my heartbeat. Sonny flicked a grain of sand off my knee. “Front row seats to *that* meltdown,” she murmured, nodding toward the boardwalk where Janelle was shoving Mike so hard he stumbled into a trash can. Beth limped behind them, clutching her ruined cover-up around her waist like a pathetic shield.

The beach bag’s contents lay scattered between us—tampons, sunscreen, the cracked remains of Beth’s dignity. I twirled Beth’s stolen hair tie around my wrist like a victory bracelet. Sonny’s grin was all teeth as she adjusted her sunglasses, her gaze sliding past the gawkers to the new crop of potential challengers.

“You know …”, Sonny said, grinning “we should both become professional dominatrices … forcefully over-powering & dominating other women, and making them our bitches … is so fucking arousing!”

“Amen to that … sister!”, I grinned back at her.

THE END

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

Ooops, before I forget ... sorry, folks, those of you who voted to see me & Sonny lose  ... it didn't turn out that way! 

Maybe a good thing you didn't bet any money on it? 

Kinky mewr
Sonja Sin

[SunnyB]

Oooh, Sonja, I loved our amazing upset triumph!  Absolutely fantastically thrilling! 

Just goes to show fighting dirty & nasty can beat playing by the rules of wrestling ... LOL! 

Mmm, what makes it even sweeter is the fact that the majority of folks would've preferred seeing us lose ... but we sure proved them wrong! 

We are simple the best ... better than all the rest!   

Mwuahs 
Sonny

[tommyfighter]

Wild!!

[roadie]

I loved it!! Not very often do you see two blondes defeat a couple of big breasted brunettes, but you chics did it. 
Pete

[Dirty bad bitch]

@tommyfighter ... Thanks! 

@roadie ... Glad to hear you enjoyed our victory!  It was especially sweet since the majority here at FreeCatfight seemed to have been cheering for our opponents to win!  Oh, but please note we'r actually not naturally blonde ... only bottle blonde! 

- Sonja

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

While the majority of folks here (> 70%) over in the Poll seemed to have wanted to see us lose, it's interesting to note in posting the same Poll over at DeviantArt, the majority (71%) there voted for us to win!  Wonder why the difference? 

Though we’d told the AI software to stop the story … and added the last 2 paragraphs shown above … the AI software just wanted to keep going …   

So curious as to where it was going, we let it run along … and this is what it produced …   

Continuing our bad girl act on the beach,  we now pick a fight with a group of seven sorority girls  … but have we made a cocky mistake?    Over-reaching ourselves?   

Read on & see what happens … He! He!   

- Sin Twins

****

EPILOGUE

“That sorority pack at 3 o’clock,” Sonny mused, nodding toward a cluster of girls in matching pink bikinis. One was already shooting us dagger-glances while whispering to her friends. “Beta Delta *Fuckaround*.”

I stretched, arching my back to let the sun bake the last of the ocean’s chill off my skin. “Their president called us ‘trash’ at the tiki bar last night.” Sonny’s fingers drummed against her thigh, nails still flecked with Janelle’s nail polish from where she’d clawed at us. “Think they’ve got more fight than the wrestlers?”

A frat boy stumbled past, his phone clutched like a holy relic, footage of Beth sobbing into the sand still glowing on his screen. I snatched it mid-stride, flashing him a grin as I zoomed in on the sorority girls’ paling faces. “Doubt it.” Tossing the phone back, I watched it thud against his chest—his delayed fumble earning a ripple of laughter from nearby sunbathers.

Sonny plucked a grain of sand from between her teeth, spat it toward the tide line. “Beta Delta Fuckaround’s already shaking.” She nodded at the cluster of pink bikinis—their whispered conference breaking as two girls edged toward the boardwalk. The remaining trio stiffened when Sonny hooked a finger in her thong, stretching the soaked fabric away from her skin with a wet *snap*. “That one,” she murmured, nodding at the redhead clutching her coconut drink like a shield. “Her boyfriend’s been staring at my ass since we got here.”

I traced Beth’s abandoned flip-flop through the sand, spinning it on one finger. “Sorority girls fight dirty when they’re outnumbered.” The redhead’s friend—a blonde with acrylic nails already digging into her own thighs—shot us a glare sharp enough to draw blood. Perfect. “Let’s make ‘em *think* they’ve got backup.”

Sonny eased onto her back, stretching her oil-slick legs toward the sun. “Beta Delta’s got seven sisters here,” she mused, nodding at the new arrivals spreading towels near the volleyball nets. Their matching Greek letters shimmered over tanned hipbones. “But only *three* brought boyfriends.” Her grin widened as the blonde whispered something urgent to the redhead—whose drink trembled in her grip.

I rolled onto my stomach, propping my chin on interlaced fingers. “Watch the blonde’s left knee.” The girl bounced it incessantly, her acrylic nails tapping a nervous rhythm against her cup. “She’s either *terrified* or *dripping*.” Sonny’s chuckle vibrated through the sand. We both knew it could be both.

The Beta Delta pack stiffened as we rose in unison—oil glistening, thongs riding high—and sauntered toward the volleyball nets. Sonny dragged a toe through the sand, carving a slow, deliberate line toward their turf. The redhead’s grip whitened around her coconut. *Classic tells.*

"Umm," Sonny purred, flipping her sunglasses onto her buzzcut with a smirk, "it looks like you’re building up toward giving us another fight?" She paused, rolling her hips to the rhythm of the reggaeton beat. The blonde’s knee-jiggling escalated to a full tremor. *Mewr!* Sonny teased.

I plucked the redhead’s drink from her limp grip, swirling the straw with deliberate slowness. "And you," I mused, flicking a drop of coconut water onto her clavicle, "look *deliciously* unprepared." The liquid trailed down her chest, disappearing beneath her pink triangles. Her boyfriend’s Adam’s apple bobbed like a fishing float.

Sonny circled behind the blonde, her fingers trailing up the girl’s twitching thigh. "Beta Delta *Fuckaround* lives up to its name," she whispered, her breath hot on the blonde’s ear. The girl’s knee locked — whether from fear or arousal, the shudder was the same.

I pressed the coconut drink into the redhead’s cleavage, tipping it just enough to spill icy liquid down her sternum. She gasped, her bikini turning translucent as the liquid soaked through. "Oops," I deadpanned, watching her boyfriend’s gaze dart between her dripping chest and my smirk.

Sonny’s fingers hooked into the blonde’s bikini top from behind, stretching the fabric taut between her shoulder blades. "Seven against two?" she mused, her thumb skating along the girl’s trembling spine. "Those odds *almost* make me feel bad."

The blonde’s breath hitched—whether from fear or the sudden exposure of her hardening nipples to the salty breeze, it didn’t matter. The effect was identical.

I tilted the redhead’s chin up with the rim of her own drink, letting condensation drip onto her parted lips. "Run along, pledge," I murmured, watching her boyfriend’s knuckles whiten around his beer can. "Fetch your sisters." The coconut slipped from her grip, thudding onto the sand between us like a gauntlet.

Beta Delta’s blonde lunged first—acrylic nails raking toward Sonny’s throat. Sonny dodged with a lazy sidestep, letting the girl’s momentum carry her face-first into the cooler. The redhead scrambled backward, her heel catching on a towel as she shrieked for backup. The remaining five surged forward in a pastel-pink swarm, their matching Greek letters shimmering with every furious step.

I caught the first girl’s wrist mid-swing, twisting until her knees buckled. "Cute," I sneered, kneeing her inner thigh hard enough to leave a bruise. She gasped, her free hand flying to her crotch—just in time for me to yank her bikini top up into a makeshift garrote. The flimsy fabric strained against her throat as I hauled her onto tiptoes. "Sorority *rush* hour?”

Sonny had already tangled with two—one pinned between her thighs in a grapevine, the other shrieking as Sonny used her own sandals to spank her bare ass. The remaining trio hesitated, their bravado crumbling when Sonny arched back, cracking the sandal down with a wet *thwack* that echoed off the volleyball net.

I wrenched my captive’s bikini top higher, the flimsy fabric biting into her throat as she gagged. “Beta Delta *Choke*,” I purred, spinning her to face her gawking boyfriend. Her fingers clawed at the lycra garrote, toes scrambling in the sand—until I hooked a foot behind her knee and dropped her onto her back. The crowd whooped as I planted a knee between her tits, riding her like a surfboard while her legs kicked helplessly.

Sonny was already dismantling the blonde, her fingers coiled in the girl’s ponytail as she ground her face into the cooler. “Your sisters fight like they fuck,” Sonny sneered, twisting the girl’s arm into a chicken-wing behind her back. “*Sloppy.*” The blonde’s whimper morphed into a shriek as Sonny yanked her bikini bottoms up into a merciless wedgie, the fabric vanishing between her ass cheeks.

The redhead lunged at me with a poorly aimed slap—her acrylic nails grazing my shoulder before I caught her wrist and spun her into a headlock. Her bikini top snapped under the strain, the clasp giving way as I dragged her flush against me. “Oops,” I murmured, letting her tits spill free for the crowd’s roaring approval. Her boyfriend’s beer can hit the sand with a dull *thud*.

Sonny had the blonde bent over the cooler now, one hand pinning her face to the melting ice while the other worked her bikini bottoms into a brutal atomic wedgie. The girl’s squeals pitched higher as the fabric disappeared between her ass cheeks, her thighs trembling. “Beta Delta *Squeal*,” Sonny taunted, delivering a sharp spank that left a handprint blooming across the blonde’s pale flesh.

I twisted the redhead’s nipple between my fingers, her gasp sharp as I forced her to watch her sisters’ unraveling. “Tell me,” I murmured, dragging my knee up her inner thigh until it pressed against her soaked bikini bottom, “did your ‘sisterhood’ teach you how to take a loss?” Her breath hitched, her body betraying her as she ground against my leg involuntarily.

Sonny had the blonde bent double over the cooler now, one hand fisting her ponytail while the other worked her ruined bikini top into a gag. “Beta Delta *Gag*,” she crowed, shoving the lycra between the girl’s teeth as the crowd howled. The blonde’s muffled sob turned into a choked groan when Sonny landed a stinging slap across her exposed ass—the sound echoing like a gunshot.

I dragged the redhead down by her hair, her knees hitting the sand with a thud as I forced her face between my thighs. “Taste the difference,” I sneered, grinding my pussy against her nose hard enough to make her gag. Her acrylic nails dug into my hips, but the whimper vibrating against my clit was pure submission. Behind us, the blonde’s thighs trembled as Sonny forced her to climax over the cooler—her bikini bottoms now a soggy scrap hanging from one ankle.

The remaining sisters froze mid-lunge when Sonny straightened up, the blonde’s ponytail still wrapped around her fist like a leash. “Who’s next?” she taught, shaking the dazed girl like a ragdoll. The crowd’s laughter hit fever pitch as the blonde’s legs gave out, her bare ass hitting the sand with a wet smack.

I released the redhead’s hair with a final shove, leaving her gasping against my thighs. Her smeared lipstick and running mascara made her look like a melted wax figure. “Beta Delta *Drip*,” I snorted, swiping my thumb through the mess on her cheek before wiping it on her boyfriend’s shirt. He didn’t flinch—just stared at his girlfriend’s heaving chest with glazed eyes.

Sonny dragged the blonde onto her back by her ruined ponytail, straddling her chest and pressing her soles into the girl’s trembling thighs. “Sorority *squirt*,” she jeered, grinding her bare cxnt over the blonde’s nose until her legs spasmed. The crowd’s phones angled for a better shot as the blonde’s muffled whimpers hitched—whether from humiliation or the salt tang of Sonny’s arousal, the result was the same: her hips jerked involuntarily, sand sticking to her sweaty skin.

I wrenched the redhead’s arms behind her back with her own bikini straps, knotting them tight enough to make her tits jut forward. Her boyfriend’s choked groan was almost as satisfying as the way her breath hitched when I traced a fingernail down her sternum. “Beta Delta *Bimbo*,” I murmured, flicking her stiff nipple hard enough to leave a mark. She whimpered, her thighs squeezing together reflexively—just in time for me to wedge a sandal between them, the rubber sole squeaking against her soaked fabric.

Sonny had the blonde pinned face-down, her knee grinding between the girl’s shoulder blades as she used a broken sandal strap to bind her wrists. The remaining sorority pack hovered like startled gazelles—three frozen mid-step, two already backing toward the boardwalk. One brave idiot lunged… then thought better of it when I snapped the redhead’s bikini waistband against her thigh with a *crack* that drew blood to the surface. “Beta Delta *Bail*,” I sneered, watching their matching pink triangles retreat faster than high tide.

The blonde bucked beneath Sonny, her wedgied bikini bottom now a useless scrap around one ankle. “F-fuck you,” she spat, but the effect was ruined by the way her voice cracked when Sonny twisted her ponytail tighter. The redhead whimpered as I dragged her up by her knotted bikini straps, her tits bouncing for the crowd’s voyeuristic delight. “Your *sisters* fight like they pledge,” Sonny taunted, yanking the blonde’s head back to expose her smeared lipstick. “All *haze*, no *handle*.”

Behind us, the remaining Beta Deltas exchanged panicked glances — one girl already edging toward the boardwalk, her pink bikini straps slipping off her shoulders like surrender flags. “H-help us!” the redhead sobbed, but her sisters froze when Sonny raked her nails down the blonde’s spine hard enough to leave red trails. “Go ahead,” I purred, shoving the redhead onto her knees in the sand. “*Ask* them.”

The blonde’s best friend — a brunette with acrylic nails clenched into fists—took a half-step forward before locking eyes with me. I grinned, slow and feral, as I hooked my fingers into the redhead’s bikini top and *twisted*. The fabric groaned, the clasp straining dangerously against her flushed skin. The brunette’s breath hitched audibly. “Fuck this,” she whispered, backing away so fast she tripped over a cooler.

Sonny laughed, low and mean, as she dragged the blonde’s face through the sand with her ponytail. “Beta Delta *Bailout*,” she taunted, watching the remaining sisters scatter like spooked seagulls. One girl dropped her coconut drink mid-retreat, the plastic cup exploding against the boardwalk in a sticky, cowardly burst. The blonde whimpered, her mascara-streaked face twisting toward her fleeing “sisters” — but all she got was a chorus of panicked flip-flops slapping against wet concrete.

I twisted the redhead’s nipple between my fingers, her gasp sharp as I forced her to watch the great Beta Delta retreat. “Your ‘sisterhood’ lasts until someone gets their ass handed to them, huh?” The redhead’s lip trembled, her defiance crumbling when Sonny landed a stinging slap across the blonde’s upturned ass—the sound cracking through the beach like a starting pistol nobody answered.

The brunette — their so-called “house captain” — hovered at the edge of the volleyball net, her tan lines stark against her paling skin. “M-Megan?” the blonde croaked, sand spilling from her lips as she craned her neck. But Megan’s feet stayed rooted, her fingers twitching like she was mentally calculating the social fallout of bailing versus the physical fallout of stepping in. Spoiler: She chose self-preservation. With a shuddering exhale, she turned on her heel and strutted toward the tiki bar, her spine stiff with the kind of cowardice only sorority girls could spin as “strategic withdrawal.”

Sonny barked a laugh, driving her knee deeper into the blonde’s spine. “Beta Delta *Bye-bye*,” she sing-songed, watching the remaining sisters scatter like roaches when the lights flick on. One girl—a mousey thing with a sunhat—actually *tripped* over her own towel in her haste to flee. The blonde’s whimper dissolved into a wet sob as her “sisters” vanished into the crowd, their matching pink bikinis blurring into the sunset like a bad watercolor painting.

I tightened my grip on the redhead’s knotted bikini straps, leveraging them like reins as I forced her onto her back. Her thighs slapped against the sand, legs splayed wide enough for the crowd to see the wet patch darkening her ruined bottoms. “Look at you,” I crooned, dragging a fingernail down her sternum hard enough to leave a red trail. “All that *sisterhood* and not a single pair of tits brave enough to save you.” Her boyfriend’s choked moan was almost as satisfying as the way her cxnt clenched when I hooked a finger under her bikini waistband and *snapped* it against her swollen lips.

Sonny had the blonde folded into a brutal camel clutch, her ass pressed flush against the cooler as Sonny’s thighs squeezed her ribs. “Beta Delta *Gape*,” she taunted, wrenching the girl’s head back to expose her throat to the crowd. The blonde’s mascara streaked down her cheeks like warpaint, her whimpers cut short when Sonny ground her bare pussy against the girl’s forehead. “Taste the difference between *pledge* and *queen*.”

I straddled the redhead’s chest, my knees pinning her arms as I peeled her bikini top down like giftwrap. Her tits bounced free, nipples pebbled from humiliation more than the breeze. “Beta Delta *Bare*,” I sneered, twisting her straps into a makeshift gag before shoving it between her teeth. Her boyfriend’s phone clattered to the sand — filming, always filming — as I palmed her left tit and squeezed hard enough to make her toes curl. “Your *sisters* left you like a used condom.”

THE END

[SunnyB]

Oooh, a sexy epilogue you've added, Sonja!  We sure were bad-ass bitches in this one ... He! He! 

Also glad to see some responses from the fans here; notably Tommy & Roadie ... 

- Sonny Sin