This is the first of a series of tales about an ex-girlfriend of mine. It starts as a true story, but will migrate into fiction. It wasn’t that long a relationship! I’ll make it clear when the fiction starts.
The true story is that I met Shawna when she was an escort. It turns me on to pay for it and so I would peruse the ads in the local paper. Most of the time I ended barely able to tolerate the girls I met. But then came Shawna.
I talked to her on the phone before seeing her the first time. She described herself and set her price at $120, pretty cheap. I told her I liked “bad girls,” in leather, smoking cigarettes. She told me that described her perfectly and gave me directions. Most of these girls will lie about anything and everything so I wasn’t naively optimistic as I pulled up to her house in a very bad neighborhood. But when Shawna opened the door, I was taken aback in a good way. She was petite, 5’3” and 110 lbs, with her blonde hair teased like crazy, big ‘80s mall hair, and perfect C cup breast implants. Her makeup was very heavy, thick black eyeliner around her eyes, heavy blue eyeshadow, dark red lipstick. She was wearing her high heel, knee high patent leather boots, a pair of black leather hotpants or short shorts, and her leather biker jacket. Her cigarette smoldered between her fingers.
The details are not relevant to a catfighting forum, but suffice it to say that we went from escort/customer to girlfriend/boyfriend. She was a genuine bad girl, living with her sister and her young son, unemployed, drinking too much and a chain smoker. She loved her pot and liked ecstasy too. She typically slept until noon or later, got up, got high, started drinking, and ended up staying up until the very early morning. But she was sexy as hell and things were passionate between us. I shared with her my fetish for female fighting. Shawna was receptive. There was an outfit about a half day’s drive from us that produced catfighting videos. I set up a scripted, private, filmed match and we drove up there.
Shawna grew more nervous as we neared the gym. She was excited but didn’t want to get hurt of course. She realized she was going to be stepping into a real ring with a catfighting veteran. I explained to her that the other girl’s experience was a good thing in that she could take the lead and prevent any injuries. Shawna dealt with her nerves through a combination of cigarettes, white wine, and a couple of joints.
Again, since I assume this board is directed toward real catfights, I won’t belabor the filming of this video. The gym was in a very cool industrial warehouse. The type of place you’d expect to see underground fights. Shawna looked awesome in her latex catsuit, boots and leather jacket. Keeping with the pro wrestling setting, the other girl, Jamie, talked shit to Shawna as she entered the ring room. Jamie attacked her and pulled her into the ring. Immediately it was clear that in addition to having experience in the ring, Jamie was far stronger and more athletic than Shawna. Shawna, as you have probably guessed, has never been an athlete or the type to work out. Jamie easily threw her around the ring. Jamie was skillful, able to execute many moves and sell them without really hurting Shawna.
What couldn’t be faked was Shawna being out of breath. She was breathing heavy seconds into the match and gasping for air not long after. Jamie recognized that and executed several choke holds on her, two hands to the throat, over the ropes, neck scissors.
Shawna valiantly tried to fight back and defend herself, but she was out of her league. Jamie toyed with her, allowing her to mount some offense, but it was obvious who was in control. Shawna was helpless as Jamie pulled her by the hair wherever she wanted her. Jamie even brought a wooden stool into the ring and Shawna panicked, trying to take it away from her, but Jamie pinned her down, the stool on Shawna’s chest and Jamie sitting on the stool. By the end of 25 minutes, Shawna had given up on offense. When Jamie would get off of her, Shawna just gasped for breath. Jamie mocked her by lighting up one of Shawna’s cigarettes as she left the ring room.
I had bought plenty of videos, but it was the first time I had seen “my girl” in a fight, even if it was fake and in a pro wrestling atmosphere. I was immensely turned on and showered Shawna with appreciation, affection and lust.
I had brought some wine into the gym and Shawna relaxed post match by drinking and smoking. She was exhausted. We were the only ones in the gym other than the cameraman and Jamie, who left early, so in the dressing room I had my way with her after helping her peel out of her rubber catsuit.
As we left the gym, we decided to stop in to the bar next door. Shawna had changed into a pair of skin tight leather pants, tucked into knee high boots, her leather tube top and her leather biker jacket. Let me explain that I’m not a motorcycle owner, but the biker chick look is something that really pushes my buttons. Shawna had plenty of leather and I adored her in it. We certainly looked like a bad girl/white bread guy couple.
We took a couple of seats at the bar. Shawna was feeling no pain by now, having drank on the drive up, gotten her blood flowing during the match, and drinking more afterward. In fact, she was fairly drunk, and getting a little boisterous. She lit up a cigarette and proceeded to chain smoke. She was 27 at the time, and 15 years of heavy smoking had given her a pretty obvious smoker’s cough.
It was a kind of rough place, plenty blue collar. Shawna definitely stood out and got plenty of stares as we entered, sat down and ordered drinks. One girl, passing behind us on her way back from the bathroom, said, “What the fuck?” I heard it but Shawna did not. When that girl got back to her group, there were more looks in our direction, which Shawna noticed.
The guy in that group closest to us said, “What brought you two to town?” Before I could get out an answer/excuse, Shawna drunkenly blurted out, “I’m a wrestler and I just had a match.”
Somebody in the group mentioned that he had heard that catfighting went on next door. Shawna started babbling, making things up as she went along, sounding pretty full of herself, saying she was a leather model and would end up doing a bunch of video work in wrestling and would start her own website.
The guys in the group listened intently, as one would expect. Shawna was sexy, wearing tight leather, smoke pouring out of her mouth and nose as she took one drag after another, clearly drunk, and talking about herself. One of the bigger girls in the group, who looked pretty buzzed herself, snidely asked, “So did you win, or what?” Shawna coughed then responded, “No, not today. This chick had a lot more experience than me. But I’ll get her next time. I can take her.” The big girl laughed loudly, saying, “Ha! It doesn’t really look like you could ‘take’ many people!” Shawna responded, “What’s the matter? Are you jealous, bitch?”
That’s when all hell broke loose. The big girl moved surprisingly quickly for her size. Shawn was still seated on her bar stool and the girl grabbed her hair with one hand, pulling her head back, and wrapped her other arm around Shawna’s throat. Shawna dropped her cigarette and knocked over her drink as her hands went to the girl’s arm. The girl had Shawna in a serious chokehold and pulled her off the barstool. Shawna’s eyes were wide open with fear and her mouth was open, searching for air, as the big girl pulled her around, shaking her and yelling, “Want me to break her neck, you little whore?”
The big girl was whipping Shawna back and forth like a rag doll, and then let her go, effectively tossing her abdomen first into a table. Shawna hit the table, which went down, and Shawna fell onto the downed table, then rolled off it. The big girl followed her and swung her leg, landing a hard kick in Shawna’s lower abdomen, just above her crotch. Shawna screamed in pain. The big girl landed a stomp on Shawna’s thigh just as two of the guys in her group got to her and pulled her away. The big girl was a raging animal at this point.
I rushed to Shawna’s side. She was coughing, gasping for air and moaning. She was doubled over in the fetal position, her hands at her midsection. She had started crying. I just wanted to get her out of there. I coaxed her up, saying, “Come on baby. Come on. It’s okay. Let’s get out of here.” Shawna was crying and hurt and the big girl was still yelling at her, calling her a whore and a slut. I grabbed her pocketbook and helped her out. She was limping on the leg where she had been stomped and was still doubled over from the low kick.
I got her into my truck and it was about 10 minutes before she stopped crying and caught her breath. She was still scared and moaning, cursing the big girl, and lighting a cigarette to try to calm her nerves. We got to the motel we were staying at and I helped her into the room and on to the bed. Shawna was a wreck, her crying having messed up her makeup. I helped her out of her leather. She had a nasty bruise on her thigh and a worse one on her lower midsection. I worried that she might have internal injuries.
The next day, she was very, very sore. She probably would have been any way, given the wrestling match, but the bar fight made it much worse. She had bruised her ribs when she landed on the table on the way down. The big girl’s choke had probably wrenched her neck. And the kick and the stomp had bruised her up badly.
As you might imagine, she wasn’t in the mood to talk about wrestling or catfighting on the ride home.
