Amid the ever-changing landscape of the Los Angeles fighting business, a novel operating paradigm had gradually been emerging in recent years, one which had the potential to become a viable alternative to the way that things had long been done.
As it was, the scene largely revolved around several different entities that were stratified by their level of prestige, the amount of money involved, and the status of the audience they catered to. By and large, these were top-down structures that a fighter had to beholden herself to as a matter of course. But instead of going down that route, this new premise was seeking to facilitate a direct connection between fighters and a patron - one who had an interest in making a particular kind of fight with a specific set of talent in mind, along with possessing the necessary capital to turn that vision into a reality. Matches might not come as regularly as what could be had from a salt-of-the-earth fight club, but the pay was substantially better for a career experience that would be markedly less of a meatgrinder. And while it might not rise to the same lucrativeness or renown of the penthouse and mansion circuit, the earnings were still quite respectable when weighed against a barrier to entry that was nowhere near as high. Taken as a whole, there were plenty out there who would find an appeal in the freedom and flexibility that this matchmaking method had to offer.
One such engagement was approaching its climax on board a 100-meter luxury yacht that was out to sea just off of the Malibu coast. The aft section of the upper deck had a wide open lounge area that overlooked the extended lower deck below; it was squarish in shape with rows of seating that lined the port and starboard sides, creating an atmosphere that was as refined as it was relaxing. Assembled there to spectate was a small group of invitees - the patron had desired a pugilistic style of contest with taped fists, an emphasis on striking from standing up and minimal fighting on the ground, but with some leeway on the action becoming catty. There in the blue hour of the evening, lit by the fading rays of the setting sun and the soft yellow shipboard lights, the battle had not disappointed.
Tiffany Cox wasn't doing so hot. The 23 year-old Alabama native's facial expression had taken on a persistent scowl, one that was matched by the blood and the swelling that marred her once-angelic countenance. Though she'd been a marvel to behold in the beginning at 5'5 and 115 lbs, with long platinum blonde hair and a 34DD bustline, such beauty had not withstood the toll exacted by her opponent's ruthless hands. Nor could she continue to command a presence in her white bikini bottoms and matching taped fists; the sight of her degraded fighting form and weary movements now dominated any narrative that she might have left to tell. It was a tough spot to be in for a girl who had won only a little more than half of her fights. But as she peered out from behind her tired guard, her eyes raged with a fire that had not yet faltered - they unequivocally let it be known that it was still far too soon to count her out completely.
From behind her own raised dukes,
Daphne Janairo stared back and flashed her foe with a catty smile - one whose kind could only belong to a girl who was undefeated in her last dozen fights, and who seemed well on her way to locking up another. Though the 27 year-old Filipina had not been spared from taking her share of punishment, as evidenced by her swollen left eye and the blood trickling from her nose, the confident air with which she still carried herself starkly set her apart from her rival. Measuring 5'6 and 118 lbs, with long hair dyed to a light brown and 36DD breasts, she brought more than enough physicality to contend against her opponent's. And as she took the fight to her foe in a leopard-print set of bikini bottoms and white taped fists, she had been giving the other girl all that she could handle, and then some. And perhaps more to the point, all signs indicated that she still had plenty left that she was intent on dishing out.
Both fighters were measuring each other carefully as they circled each other slowly. Daphne held her lead left hand out and pawed with it, while Tiffany kept both of hers in more closely to her body. Daphne took a quick step in and ducked as she leaned into a snappy left jab to the tits, trying to pry a hole into the blonde's guard, but the latter turned and rolled with the punch as she fell back in good order. Stalking forward to find her range again, Daphne threw another jab and then turned on her hips to fire off a booming right cross to her opponent's jaw, but this time the other girl stepped inside and landed first with a sharp jab to the nose. She was still smarting from the blow as Tiffany now piled on with a pair of wide right and left hooks - the first stung as it whaled against the side of her head, but she managed to plant her feet and answer with a right uppercut to the chin just moments before the second blow landed. The bruising trade of punches was felt by both battlers and was enough to bring them both in to tie up with one another.
Even in these close quarters, the fighting continued unabated. Blonde and Filipina both moved to loop their own left arm around the back of the other's neck, and each sought to exert control by tugging on the head and leaning in with their weight. Meanwhile, each one's right arm remained open and was granted free rein to pursue the work downstairs with short punches to the available midsection, flank, and jugs of the other girl. This style of dueling was popular in these circles, and the spectators' enthusiastic cheers were soon forming a backdrop that filled in between the toiled shouts and achy cries that came from the two brawlers. Daphne could sense that she was slowly taking over as her strikes seemed to be landing more meaningfully and as Tiffany's ability to contest the tie-up appeared to be waning the longer it persisted - too much more of this, and the blonde would be done for. All of that changed, however, when the other girl reached in with her hand and seized Daphne's left tit with a vicious claw hold.
The pain was an unwelcome jolt to the Filipina's senses. Her lips parted and let forth a wretched owl as her foe's talons gouged into her hulking breast and as its great heft was violently squeezed in the other girl's clutches. Though it was not nearly the most intense assault her rack had ever been subjected to, her opponent's persistence was still enough to make her lose her concentration; as Tiffany began to push and drive forward, she suddenly found herself backpedaling and ceding ground. Daphne's mind raced for several agonizingly long seconds before she instinctively seized the blonde's left breast with her own right hand and began to repay the other girl in kind; as she squeezed, and yanked, and wrenched on the sizeable orb, it did not take long for Tiffany's tortured shrieks to join her own in filling the air.
The two fighters were stumbling about the deck as they remained locked up in their wild melee. Daphne was unwilling to relinquish her death grip on Tiffany's jugs even at the expense of keeping her balance and staying upright, and her foe was doggedly matching her every step of the way. Their reckless struggling sent them clattering towards the seats and they almost toppled over, but the nearby guests reached out their arms in time to prop them up before they could fall. Those same hands pushed the pair back towards the middle of the fighting space, and the two finally released their holds on one another and shoved each other apart vehemently to separate. Both girls' faces were achy with hurt and had eyes misty with tears as they returned to their puncher's stances and resumed circling. Daphne gave Tiffany a scornful glare, and the one she got back from her foe told her all she needed to know - each of them was determined to put an end to things in the next crucial exchange.
It was Daphne who was the first to make a move. Sliding into her range, she turned on her hips and ducked down as she leaned in to swing with a right hook that aimed low. Very low. Her shot found its mark and landed squarely to the center of Tiffany's bikini bottoms. The blonde had been looking to punish the Filipina with a left hook over top of the extended right, but she was just a moment too slow - her punch sputtered out and she wailed at the top of her lungs as she turned and stumbled a step, before sinking to the deck on all fours.
Daphne stalked over slowly and towered over her stricken foe, a cruel smile forming on her lips as she surveyed the damage. From the tip of her tongue, a merciless roar took form and bellowed out at the downed girl: "Get up!"
Tiffany was sniveling as she suffered quite visibly, both from the physical excruciation of the heinous punch and from the strain of trying to retain her composure. But at the sound of the Filipina's taunt, she looked up and shot her a hateful glare as her voice coalesced into a pointed retort: "Fuck you!"
The blonde impulsively pushed herself up and rose to her feet quickly, but she looked to still be feeling the effects of the low blow quite acutely. And now that her foe was on her feet, Daphne was not about to grant her any time to recover. She moved immediately to pounce and began to swing for the fences with her punches, setting Tiffany into full flight as she retreated in the face of such overwhelming fire. Daphne cut off the space and promptly had her backed up against the railing at the end of the deck; though Tiffany was covering up and trying to evade the incoming blows, she had effectively been pinned down with nowhere for her to go.
A left hook to the flank, a right uppercut to the breast, an overhand right to the top of the head - one by one, Daphne was getting more of her shots in. Tiffany desperately threw herself forward and tried to clinch, but Daphne brusquely bodied her back to keep her trapped. There were a few seconds of wrestling, but only one of them still possessed the strength to contest the struggle. Daphne managed to work her left forearm in and get it pressed against Tiffany's collar; she pushed and shoved with it to keep her pinned while brushing off all of the blonde's attempts to pry it away or fight her way free. Daphne then brought her right hand in flat against Tiffany's abdomen and slid it down until it glided menacingly over the front of the other girl's bikini bottoms.
"Say it," Daphne hissed as she stared her opponent in the eye, "Say it, or I'll do it again."
As Tiffany looked back at her, she could see each moment of the weight her threat registering in the blonde's mind. Whatever little veneer of resolve she had left remaining now shattered completely as she broke down into tears and whimpering.
"Please. Please don't," Tiffany begged, rushing the words out of her mouth, "I give. Just please, no."
A conceited grin spread across the whole of Daphne's countenance as she bathed in the sights and sounds of her opponent's capitulation. Purring as she brought her left hand up to forcibly grasp the other girl's blonde hair at the crown of the skull, she yanked her foe away from the railing and began to walk her from one spectator to the next. Side by side they marched at length around the entire breadth of the deck - Tiffany appeared absolutely distraught as she limped along shambolically in this coerced parade, while Daphne was at the height of her splendor as she proudly strutted alongside the beaten girl. At each point along the way, Daphne paused and posed next to her captive, dragging out the ordeal for that much longer - she reveled in letting everyone see up close just how magnificent she looked when contrasted with her conquest.
At last, the Walk of Shame reached its terminal point as the victress led the vanquished back to the center of the space where the fight had begun. Daphne peeled herself away from Tiffany and moved to face her, while at the same time tightening the grip on her hair with the left hand. She watched the blonde become completely distraught as she planted her feet and cocked her right hand back - in that moment, the other girl was willing to give anything to avoid the fate about to befall her, but she was too far spent both physically and mentally to be able to do anything about it. Daphne answered her by flashing an evil smile - both of them already knew that she wouldn't trade this for anything in the world. And a heartbeat later, she unloaded with a massive right cross to the chin that sent her opponent crashing to the deck.
Tiffany was finished. She'd fallen in a heap on her side and came to lay face-down on the deck as she relaxed into unconsciousness. Some observers might admire her for fighting her heart out and putting up as much of a challenge as she did in this match, but Daphne did not share that view. As she sauntered over to the defeated blonde, she instead made a statement of her own by planting her foot on the other girl's upturned hip and raising her arms overhead to strike a pose flexing them triumphantly. There was only one possible outcome as far as she was concerned, and as she stood amidst her accomplishment and took in the cheers from the audience, the fact was as evident as it could be.
This night was hers, and hers alone.
