The Cheerleaders

[MikeHales67]

Cheerleaders

Phoebe stood in the centre of the locker room, preparing for her ordeal. She could hear the crowd chanting outside. Her manager? Captain? Trainer? Mental Mickey was the only other person in the room.

"You ready for this?" Mental Mickey asked.

 "No!"  Phoebe croaked. She felt the butterflies in her stomach, her heart going like rapid machine gun fire and her mouth drier than the Sahara Desert.

 "Ah! You always get nervous the first time. I was so nervous..." Mickey said, trying to be sympathetic.

 "You were?" Phoebe was fishing for some words of comfort.

  "No!" Mental Mickey snorted. "I was looking forward to it. Hell, I fucked that bitch up seven different ways!" She chortled.

Her name wasn't Mental Mickey; it was Michelle, but Phoebe called her Mental Mickey after an eighties children's TV show her dad liked, 'cos she was fucking indestructible. She was a pleasant enough girl, if you were on the right side of her. Like Phoebe, she was a new transfer student at the college. She was an army brat; it was rumoured that her dad was in the Seals, but when asked about it, she just replied, 'I could tell you...but then I'd have to kill you' She always said it with a smile, but nobody ever pressed further. She was a pretty redhead, but broad-shouldered, and she had a mean streak a mile wide; she certainly didn't look like a typical cheerleader, let alone a head cheerleader.

Funny story: initially she hadn't been one; it had been her friend Stacy who had joined the cheerleading squad first. But Michelle had been unimpressed by the way Stacy was being trained by the Head cheerleader, Samantha, so she started training Stacy herself. Impressed by how Stacy had improved, a few other girls started asking for help. Phoebe was one of them. This did not go down well with Samantha, who was pissed off by Michelle butting her oar in, undermining her jealously guarded position as head alpha-bitch.

Samantha accosted Michelle on the football pitch. The two had words, with Samantha saying that Michelle was a bull dyke who knew fuck all about cheerleading. Michelle told Samantha that she was an overstuffed airhead. She suggested that she would show her a thing or two if she would care to accompany her to the locker room to discuss things. After a somewhat noisy discussion, Michelle walked proudly out of the locker room, announcing that she would be taking over as the new Head Cheerleader, as Samantha would be spending a couple of weeks in the hospital.

And Phoebe had to admit she was a bloody good Captain and trainer. She drilled her girls with military precision. And yes, that washboard stomach she now owned was all due to Michelle's training.  It was also due to her that Phoebe was standing here, in the middle of the locker room, waiting for her first fight.

This wasn't like her. Phoebe was a good girl; she really was. A five-foot-three girl with shoulder-length brown hair and glasses, she didn't exactly stand out in a crowd; she blended into it. She grew up in London, England and ended up studying English Literature at a local university so she could stay at home; there was nothing she loved more than being surrounded by books. She loved the smell, the feel, the way the books could transport you.

But when she reached nineteen, she began to get restless. Maybe it was the hormones, her changing body, but she began to feel stifled. She felt like a chrysalis, and one day she was going to bloom into a beautiful butterfly.

 And then...everything changed. Her dad got a job in Boston, America, America!

Her mum and dad gave her a choice: she could stay in England to continue her university course, her life would carry on as usual, or come with them to America, where her life would change. She didn't have to think long; she chose America. 

Seizing the opportunity, Phoebe had enrolled at Haventon College as a sophomore and moved on campus. It was ideal; close enough to go home whenever she wished, but far enough away that she could live on her own.  Yes, she wanted to change, but no point in burning your bridges. Her dad, with his new job, could afford it, and they both knew Phoebe was a quiet, sensible girl who would never do anything wild.

Haventon was a nice place, really different from London. Phoebe was adjusting. The coursework wasn't a problem; she had always been a bookworm and had already read the assigned books. She made that spooky pledge of allegiance every morning, opening and closing her mouth at all the correct times, getting used to the lack of hot water taps and the toilets that looked like they were overflowing.

She had even signed up for the cheerleading squad! She'd seen it in the movies; this was her way in to kick-start her life, to make friends, to have all sorts of crazy adventures. Maybe with her breasts blooming, she could get a boyfriend. Maybe she'd be invited to one of those sororities she had heard so much about. But no. No invitations, No Boyfriend. The wild hedonistic existence she had dreamed of failed to appear. But she was patient one day.

Then one day came. It was after practice, Michelle and her deputy, Stacy, came over and made her an offer.

 "A fight?" she asked, perplexed.

"Yeah, a fight, English", Michelle replied.

She always called her English, never Phebs, as everyone else did. Phoebe hoped the nickname was a sign of affection. Please let it be a sign of affection.

 "Who with?"

 "This Lowell bitch"

Michelle showed her the photo on her iPad; she was a pretty blonde, hair in a bob, wearing a red cheerleader costume. Red being the colour of the Lowell cheerleading squad. She was pretty, waving her pom-poms, posing for the camera. Phoebe could tell she was fit, but no more muscular than she was. She had breasts, but not exactly overdeveloped, but breasts, nevertheless, and to complete the feeling that she was looking at a blonde mirror image, like Phoebe, she wore glasses.

 "Why?" Asked Phoebe.

 "It's the local annual derby fight", came the reply.

 "The what?"

Mickey explained. "Y'know about the rivalry between Haventon and Lowell, right?"

 Phoebe nodded. She didn't know and didn't care, but she didn't want to seem ignorant.

 "...It started eight years ago when they held the annual local derby football match between Lowell and Haventon. Haventon lost again..."

 "We do that a lot; they could do with having Michelle as their captain", chimed in Stacy. Michelle gently nudged her ribs.

 "Sshhh!" she admonished her friend.

Michelle continued, "...Yeah, but... in the locker room afterwards, the Lowell Cheerleaders were all cock-a-hoop, boasting how they were the champions. It did not go down well with the Haventon girls. Eventually, one of the Haventon girls called one of the Lowell girls the C-word."

Phoebe had noticed they used the phrase 'C-word' a lot, unlike back home, where they called it what it is.

"The Lowell girl replied that at least she had one, unlike the hairy set of balls and prick the Haventon girl obviously had... "

 "...that started it. They started hammering each other there and then in the locker room. Unsurprisingly, they got separated. The Haventon girl challenged the Lowell girl to meet her in the gym to settle their disagreement. Later that night, they did, watched by their teammates...".

"...They went at it hammer and tongs. Eventually, the poor Haventon girl got dragged into the showers and got stripped naked by the Lowell girl looking for her hairy balls. She didn't find them, but everybody got to give her a thorough gynaecological examination".

Stacy added, "This started the custom that the fight is over when the winner says, not when the loser gives up".

Michelle continued, "Anyways, the next year, a friend of the beaten Haventon girl challenged the Lowell girl who beat her friend. After a knock-down, drag-out fight in the gym, Haventon won. The loser was made to crawl around the gym naked on her hands and knees, barking like a dog. The score was now one, one. Of course, that score could not stand. And next year there was another fight, and the next year and the next. It became a regular occurrence; the footballers would have their derby, and then the cheerleaders would select their best fighter, and then they would meet up for the REAL battle..."

"...until this year"

 "That's your fault...", said Stacy to Michelle.

"...this year, nobody wants to go up against Michelle". Stacy said proudly, patting Michelle on the back.

Michelle grinned.

 "Even Sarah...", the head cheerleader of the Lowell team, and quite a mean bitch herself, "...won't go near me". She bragged.

 "Just 'cos she knows how to kill someone with her bare hands". Stacy boasted.

 "My Dad showed me". Michelle beamed proudly.

 "Well, anyway, it seemed deadlocked. We didn't see why we shouldn't put up our best fighter,  but everybody in Lowell was too scared to fight her"

"So, it was looking like the annual fight would have to be cancelled. Until someone suggested, instead of a bitchfight, why not have a virgin fight..."

 "It was my idea", Stacy added proudly.

 "Instead of pitting the best scrapers in the squads against each other, why not select the worst?" She looked at Phoebe.

 "I'm the worst?" asked Phoebe, not entirely sure how to take this.

 "Have you ever been in a fight?" Michelle asked.

 "No", she replied.

 "And neither has she...", Michelle clapped her hands. "...you're made for each other!"

 "You up for it, English?"

 "I...", Phoebe hesitated.

 "Don't worry, I'll train ya; show you how to throw a punch, how to take a punch, that kind of thing. You're fit, you've had an excellent trainer, so there's no need to work on your cardio".  Michele smiled at Phoebe approvingly.

 "One more thing...no fighting between now and the event..."

 "...if any of you two get into a fight, it's instant forfeiture!"

Well, that's not gonna be difficult to stick to, Phoebe thought.

 "You gonna represent our team, English?"

 Phoebe hesitated. She had never been in a fight in her life; it was not her thing.  Sure, she'd seen fights, even cheered in some.  But actually fight? But...she'd seen her opponent; she didn't look like a killer, to put it politely. How bad could it get? A few cuts and bruises. Maybe she would win. She had come to America looking for adventure, well...

Which is how Phoebe ended up in the gym after hours, walking out to the blue mat, where she would fight.

OhmyGod I'mgonnafight! 

Her teammates were cheering her on, which was kinda nice. The gym was dark; they didn't want to draw too much attention to themselves, but there was a spotlight illuminating the centre of the blue mat where their battleground was. She was dressed in a blue robe over her blue cheerleader's costume, which nicely showed off her toned midriff. Sneakers, and of course glasses.

She looked across at her opponent, who was also being led into the mats, dressed in a red robe, covering the red Lowell cheerleading outfit as opposed to Phoebe's blue. Phoebe noticed the sparkling blue eyes, which she hadn't seen in the photo. The blonde noticed her looking at her and smiled.

Her name was Charlotte, nineteen, the same age as Phoebe. She was one of the youngest of the cheerleaders. She was a quiet, sweet young thing. She was scared shitless when she was selected, but she had been told that the honour of the Cheerleading squad depended on her, and immediately had jumped at the chance, proud to fight for the team's honour. But that was then, when the idea of a fight was just a concept. Now it was all too real, with the dawning awareness of what she must do and what her opponent would do to her.

She turned to look at Sarah, her trainer and second. Her eyes pleading. She wanted to be anywhere else but here. Sarah ruffled Charlotte's hair, smiling.

 "Don't worry, you'll do fine. Once that adrenaline kicks in, you'll do what has to be done"

Charlotte looked at her opponent-to-be. She, too, was receiving advice from Michelle.

 "She's scared too", thought Charlotte. It gave her comfort.

Both girls prepared themselves, removing their robes, their sneakers and of course their glasses. They both stood facing each other as the crowd cheered on their champion.

 Michelle and Sarah raised their hands, asking for silence.

 "Ladies, welcome to the ninth annual Cheerleader fight!" announced Michelle.

 "Fighting for the first time in red, representing Lowell, give it up for Charlotte O'Connor!" Announced Sarah.

A round of applause and cheers as Charlotte raised her hands. Michell continued.

 "And introducing in her first fight...for Haventon...Phoebe 'the battling brit' Smith! Phoebe raised her hands, and all the Haventon crowd cheered. Phoebe inwardly fumed. The whole point of this is to fit in, and you've just told everyone I'm different.  At least we're not doing this on the fourth of July; that's all I bloody need.

 "Okay, ladies, we want a good, clean fight! " Michelle announced.

 "Do we really want a good, clean fight?" Sarah asked innocently.

 "Do we fuck!" Michelle replied with the ease of a stand-up comedian.

 "Anything goes, girls", Sarah shouted. The crowd roared with its approval.

 "No interference..." Michelle announced.

 "...And remember... It's not over until the winner has had enough!" Sarah called out.

 The crowd was calling for blood at this point.

Their double act completed, Michelle and Sarah wished their girls good luck.

"You got this, Charly", Sarah smiled as she hugged Charlotte.

 Michelle didn't hug. She liked to maintain her boundaries. She smiled at Phoebe, putting her hand on her shoulder.

 "You're gonna do fine, English..."

 "...and remember..." she said.

 "Let's do it to them before they do it to us!"

Phoebe and Michelle recited in unison. They smiled at each other.

There was nothing left for Michelle and Sarah to do; it was now down to the girls. They retired to stand at the edge of the mats to watch the action.

The two girls were all alone now; they stared silently at each other. Unsure what to do next, neither had ever started a fight.  They knew they were expected to tear into each other; the crowd was demanding it, but they didn't know how to start, what to do. Charlotte broke the silence.

"Hi", said the blonde, "My name's Charlotte; my friends call me Charly".

 "Hi, Charlotte", said Phoebe. "I'm Phoebe; my friends call me Phebs".

"Hello, Phoebe". Charlotte said, with an emphasis on the 'Phoebe'.

Charlotte held out her hand.

"May the best girl win"

At that moment, the absurdity of the situation hit Phoebe. Here she was, about to try and beat up a girl she did not know, whom she bore no animosity towards, whom she might even like if she got to know her. She guessed that Charlotte might be thinking the same thing. Given the choice, Phoebe thought she might back out of the whole thing at that moment. They should be exchanging clothes, books, not punches.

'But I'm too far into this to back out now, ' she thought to herself.

 "May the best girl win", repeated Phoebe as she took the offered hand. She noticed Charlotte biting her bottom lip. They shook in a businesslike fashion. Holding the handshake for as little time as they could manage.

Pleasantries over, they stepped away from each other.

 "Let's get to it". Charlotte said in as much of a confident voice as she could manage.

 "Let's". Phoebe replied, trying to hide the dryness in her throat.

They moved together, arms out like wrestlers. Circling. Warily probing each other. Phoebe moved her right hand forward; Charlotte moved hers back. Charlotte tried for a grab. Phoebe slid out of the way. Irritated, Charlotte tried for another grab, but Phoebe caught her hand and twisted.

 "Ooww!" protested Charlotte. Phoebe grinned, pleased with herself.

 SLAP!

Charlotte's open-handed slap knocked the smile off Phoebe's face. Her face jerked to the side, spitting saliva on the floor. She staggered back, shocked by the blow. She touched the red tattoo on her face; it was sore.

 "Cow!" Phoebe cursed.

 Charlotte shrugged. "This is a fight, bitch!"

Phoebe moved forward towards Charlotte, swinging her fist in a wide arc, aiming for a powerhouse punch. Charlotte ducked; Phoebe over-balanced, stumbled. Charlotte's fist slammed into her stomach. Phoebe's pupils shrank, her mouth spitting goo that landed with a splat on the mat.

 "This is gonna be soooo easy", thought Charlotte as she stepped back to give herself room for the high kick. Her foot seemed to move in slow motion; her kick was perfect, just like she'd practised. She saw the brown-haired girl's face deform around her foot. Moving slower than molasses suspended in aspic. It was a thing of beauty.

Phoebe's head snapped back at the impact, her eyes glazed briefly as her body twisted. She fell to the mat in a heap. Tears started to form in her eyes.

Charlotte grinned. She had this fight in the bag. She turned, flexing her muscles for her cheering fans. She felt so amazingly powerful. She had never done anything like this before, but she could do it again; she wanted to do it again!

Phoebe was pissed. Sucking in a deep breath, she angrily wiped away the tears with her left hand. She cleared her vision, although her head still ached; she wanted her revenge. Despite her anger, she kept quiet, not giving any warning of her plans until she flung herself at the showboating girl.

Charlotte felt red-hot pokers driven into her head. Then the impact of hard fists on her back as Phoebe sought payback.

Charlotte's brain was still reeling when she heard the rip and felt the air on her back as Phoebe tore her outfit down to the waist.  Grunting, Phoebe grabbed the strap of her pink sports bra, forcibly compressing Charlotte's modest rack flat and used it to spin Charlotte around her, keeping her off-balance, and then released. Charlotte tumbled to the floor in a tangle of limbs. She was starting to rise on her hands, while the overstretched sports bra sank to her waist, when Phoebe's foot crashed into her face.

"Fucking bitch!"  Phoebe screamed.

Charlotte fell on her back. Phoebe smashed her foot down on Charlotte's belly. Charlotte wailed in pain as her body jack-knifed. Phoebe raised her foot again. Charlotte rolled; Phoebe's foot came down on the mat. Phoebe hissed in frustration. She brought her foot up again, aiming for the head. Charlotte rolled, and the foot came down again with a smack on the empty mat.  Phoebe cursed, she kicked again, hitting Charlotte in the ribs; her body spasmed.

 "Fucking hell", Mickey grinned. She turned to Sarah, the red team captain, "It's always the quiet ones, eh?

Sarah smiled back. "Think they're into it now".

 "That they are", said Michelle, transfixed by the spectacle. This was turning real good real fast.

Phoebe wound her leg back for another kick. She fired. Charlotte's hands flickered out, grasping the foot. Yelping, Phoebe tried to pull it back; growling, Charlotte pulled it towards her, then bit the foot like she hadn't eaten for days. Phoebe screamed. Charlotte yanked the trapped limb hard. Phoebe fell back onto her rump with a thud.

Phoebe braced herself on her hands, pushing herself up to face her hated foe. For a second, they stopped. Then determined, they both rose to their feet. This was not a simple fight anymore; this was war.

 "Now we're fighting", Phoebe said proudly as she wiped blood from her nose.

  "Fuck you, masshole!" Charlotte snapped back as she wiped the blood from her busted lip.

 "No, fuck you bitch!" came the reply.

The crowd was astonished. These were good girls. They could not recall ever having heard these girls swear. This was getting serious. The two girls warily circled each other. Gone were any reservations they may have had; they stalked each other with grim determination. All inhibitions gone. Their only thought was to emerge victorious from this fight.

 "Fucking whore, you're going home in an ambulance!" Phoebe snarled.

 "Whore yourself. You're going home in a freaking body bag!" Was the considered reply.

Phoebe raised her hands, clenched into fists, guarding her face. Charlotte matched the gesture. Both girls were on an adrenaline rush. Charlotte had never felt more alive; she didn't care that her breasts were exposed; she felt like a primaeval cavewoman fighting her mortal enemy to the death!  Her clawed hands shot out for Phoebe's face. Ducking under the blonde's grasping hands, Phoebe's uppercut slammed into Charlotte's stomach. Air exploded from her mouth along with spit; her eyes bulged. Phoebe stepped back, looking proudly at her fist as Charlotte staggered back, clutching at her stomach.

 "You can quit anytime you want", Phoebe mocked as she looked down at the head of the stricken blonde. Big mistake.

The back of the blonde's skull smashed into her face. The brown-haired girl's head snapped back as her hands went to her face, vainly trying to staunch the flow of blood which poured from her nose.

 "Bith!" she cursed, finding it hard to breathe blood.

She staggered back on unsteady legs. With a hiss of satisfaction. Charlotte reached out for the straps of the brown-haired woman's top and pulled them down around her arms, trapping them. She then went for Phoebe's face with a series of forehand and backhand slaps, which sent Phoebe's face reeling.

Determined to end the battering, Phoebe broke the strap of her top as her right fist buried itself into the stomach of the blonde. She bent, gasping, clutching her stomach.

Phoebe grabbed the blonde's bob, pulling her down into her raised knee. The blonde's nose smashed open. Phoebe gripped the blonde's chin, tipping it up so that she looked her in the face. The blood streaming down from her nose merged with the blood covering her lips.

 "It's over!" Phoebe whispered as she raised her fist for another blow.

 "No!" hissed Charlotte as her fist shot out, pounding Phoebe's modest orbs. White-hot molten pain screamed through her body as Charlotte's fist flattened her breast.

In revenge, Phoebe's hand shot out, grasping the blonde's chest and squeezed as Charlotte moaned. Phoebe's hand went for the other breast. Grunting, Charlotte grabbed a tit in each hand and started pulling them off Phoebe's chest. The crowd fell silent, transfixed by the sight of these two women locked in this titanic struggle. Both women were bare to the waist; their bruised red sweat-covered skin shining in the spotlight. Grunts and moans filled the gymnasium. Their chins rested on each other's shoulders as they whispered threats and curses into each other's ears.

Both girls were fully committed to the battle now. Any inhibitions they may have had were abandoned like the clothes and strands of brown and blonde hair that littered the mat. Both were determined to emerge as the victor from this fight. The pain was just a price worth paying for that victory.

 "Bitch, I'm going to rip those weak, flabby tits off!" The blonde brawler growled.

 "Fuck off and die. I'm gonna make you eat yours!" The British battler hissed.

Phoebe's knee thumped into the blonde's thigh. The blonde grimaced and tried for a crotch shot with her knee. Phoebe blocked it with her leg. It hurt. Their legs started a separate battle. The blonde managed to get her legs behind Phoebe's. Pushing, she destroyed the brown-haired battler's balance. She fell back, but she still had a grip on the blonde's tits. Pulling her down by them.

They landed in a tangle with the blonde on top, Phoebe's hands shot up for the blonde's mouth, a thumb in each corner, she tried to tear the blonde's mouth apart as pulling her head back.

 "Grrrk!" The blonde's eyes bulged in agony.

 Charlotte's hands flailed, alternating between swinging slaps at Phoebe's face and fingers scrambled for Phoebe's eyes.

Phoebe yanked at the blonde's hair, pulling her over as yellow strands fell on the mat.
Charlotte kicked, her feet mashing Phoebe's face. She started windmilling her feet, pounding at Phoebe's head.

Then suddenly, Charlotte locked her legs around Phoebe's head. She felt the steel legs lock on her like a vice, cutting off her breath. You could see the clearly defined muscles of Charlotte's well-defined legs. Phoebe wailed as her face started turning a dark red, pulling desperately at the blonde's legs.

 "You got this, Charly, choke her out!" she heard Sarah's voice.

Smiling in triumph, Charlotte spread her arms for greater leverage; she was gonna do it, she was gonna win her first fight. Pheobe's hands scratched down Charlotte's legs; her nails were too short, but she still left red marks on the firm flesh. The steely legs would not release.

 "Stand, English!" It was not a command; it was more of a plea, but it registered with Phoebe's oxygen-deprived brain.

Slowly, in an attempt to escape the crushing hold before she succumbed to suffocation. Phoebe started to rise on unsteady legs. Charlotte tried pulsing her leg grip, but Phoebe would not be denied. She stood. Charlotte was dangling upside down now.

 "Bash her brains out, English!"

She got it. Phoebe saw how close she was to the edge of the mat; she saw the bare, hard flooring, imagining what it would do to someone's head. She smiled. She had her target; instead of pulling the blonde's feet apart, she gripped them, no escape. Hanging upside down, Charlotte saw the intended destination; the source of her victory would be the source of her defeat. She wailed, desperately tightening her grip on Phoebe's throat to slow her down.

As Phoebe moved with her heavy load towards her target. Her parents would not have recognised their sweet, sensible little girl; hell, even her teammates didn't recognise her. Her hair was a mess, her reddened bare flesh drenched in sweat. She staggered towards her goal to bash her foes' brains out. She had never dreamed she was capable of doing this to another human being, but here she was, the raw primal savagery. She loved it.

In a last-ditch effort to escape her fate, Charlotte kicked her legs, breaking Phoebe's hold, and she dropped on her back. Before Phoebe could attack, Charlotte kicked with both feet, sending Phoebe back off the mat into the wall surrounding the gym. The crowd parted like the Red Sea for her. Phoebe's head smacked into the brick; she hung there, stunned.

Charlotte jumped to her feet. In a flash, her forearm was across Phoebe's throat. Her other hand...

...reached under Phoebe's skirt, grabbing a handful of pubic hair and the thong she wore under her skirt, and twisted. Phoebe screamed as the material penetrated her snatch.

As Charlotte violated Phoebe's womanhood, the thong cutting like cheese wire, her other hand holding Phoebe's head in a face claw as she banged her head against the brick wall. Charlotte was elated; she held victory literally within her grasp. She was winning, she was winning.

"Fucking submit", she snarled.

Phoebe didn't reply; she would never submit in front of her teammates, in front of Michelle. She reached for Charlotte's chin, twisting her broken lips, trying to push her back. She slammed the palm of her other hand into her foe's chin. Her head snapped back. Briefly, their bodies separated. Opening her mouth, Phoebe's head went down and bit into Charlotte's erect nipple. Charlotte screamed in horror, turning to sobs as Phoebe tasted blood. Charlotte dropped her grip on the thong, trying in vain to push Phoebe away; all she managed was to stretch her nipple out in Phoebe's bite. She was sobbing now. Satisfied she had broken the bitch. Phoebe leant against the wall and pushed her away with a kick, sending Charlotte falling to the mat on her back.

Without hesitation, Phoebe pounced. She was lying on top of Charlotte, now, face-to-face. She slammed her chest into Charlotte's breasts. The blonde groaned.

 "Who's got weaker tits now?" Phoebe snarled.

Phoebe knew it was dumb luck that had got her here. It could just as well be her lying defenceless, and what would blondie do to her? She remembered Michelle's words, 'Do it to them before they do it to you'.

Phoebe's hands shot out for the bruised breasts and squeezed, paying special attention to the bloodied nipple; the flesh and blood oozed through her fingers. Charlotte moaned, clutching at Phoebe's cruel death grip. Charlotte couldn't take much more; she had never felt pain like this.

 "Kick her in the twat, Phebs!" Pheobe heard someone in the crowd. Just for a second, her eyes locked with Charlotte's. Winner and loser, and they both knew who was who. Charlotte looked back at Pheobe impassively; she knew what was coming, there was nothing she could do. She accepted her fate.

Her fate hit her unbelievably hard between the legs; she screamed as Phoebe's knee to the crotch crunched into her pubic bone. Her body spasmed.

"Yes!" hissed Phoebe. There could be no mercy now, not after all she had suffered at the hands of the blonde.
 
Phoebe's knee slammed into her foe again, this time only getting a gurgled gasp. By the third knee, her body just twitched, her mouth opening and closing wordlessly. Phoebe heard faint, incoherent croaking. Maybe she was asking for mercy, maybe she was still making threats. It didn't matter; she had won. She was going to enjoy this.

Do it to them before they do it to you.

Phoebe just kept on pounding her foe's crotch to pudding. She was determined to make the blonde bitch pay for all the pain and humiliation she had suffered at her hands. The cheers from the crowd went silent, and all that could be heard was the dull thud, thud, thud of Phoebe driving her knee into Charlotte's unprotected crotch. In the background, she heard voices.

 "Should we stop her?" asked Sarah.

 "Nah, let her enjoy the fruits of her victory. It's over when she says it is", she heard Mental Mickey's reply. Was that pride in her voice?

Too exhausted to make another kick, her thirst for violence sated. Slowly, painfully, Phoebe got off her prone opponent. She gasped, trying to draw air into her lungs.  Her universe, which had been the savage struggle, had now shrunk down to her, the exhaustion, the pain. She heard the cheering like the roar of a distant ocean. It took time to realise they were cheering her, her.

One little thing, she leaned over and pulled at the blonde's skirt, slowly peeling the sweat-sodden cloth off her battered body, leaving her naked. She briefly waved the underwear triumphantly in the air. Then, as a parting gift, she brought her open palm down and slapped the blonde's buttocks; the crisp slap echoed round the gym like a gunshot. Then again, another whack. The buttocks wobbled briefly before they resumed their former shape, except now with two red handprints on them.

Smiling, Mickey turned to Sarah, "Your girl fought hard..."

 " ...unfortunately, mine fought harder".

Phoebe was still lost in her thoughts.

I won!

 I won     I won    IWONIWONIWONIWONIWONIWONIWONIWONIWONIWONIWONIWON

 She didn't even hear her sobbing opponent being covered in a blanket and led away to the changing rooms. She didn't realise Mickey was standing above her.

 "You were wild, English", she heard Mickey's voice from above her. She looked up.

 "Did I do it to her good?" she asked plaintively like a little child seeking approval.

 "You did her good, Phebs. I'm proud of you..."

 "...listen, I don't know if it's your thing, but tonight we're having a party to celebrate Haventon's...your victory. Would you like to be the guest of hon..."

 "Yes!"

[🍷 𝗔𝘀𝗵𝘁𝗼𝗻 𝟳𝗖 🍷]

Fun fight

[Kerfuffling]

Another great story. You have a gift for portraying scrappy underdogs giving in to their primal side

[Kerfuffling]