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Emma Peel vs. Cathy Gale: Part V

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Offline kingofhairpull

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Emma Peel vs. Cathy Gale: Part V
« on: January 12, 2010, 05:19:08 PM »
Emma's Motivation

Emma was stirred by something ... a painful scratching against her face. Her arms, weak, tried to push it away.

Slowly, she came to. She heard voices.

It all came back. She knew where she was, she recognized the voices. And the scratching against her face -- no! Anything but that!

When Emma had listened to the silly women at the Ministry talk of Steed, they'd hinted at his enormous, er, device. So big, some said, that not all women were equipped to handle it.

Now she felt for herself this giant appendage, swelled to its maximum, as her face was pressed agaisnt it. With disgust, she thought, he's enjoying this.

"You're a foul pig!" she heard Cathy scream, and Emma acted.

She threw her right elbow back, under Cathy's right arm, nailing her in the ribs. Cathy had been unsuspecting, totally focused on Steed, and was hit hard.

Emma, still on her knees and held by the hair, pivoted and threw a left uppercut that caught Cathy square under the chin. Emma stood and, with her left hand, tried to disentangle Cathy's right hand from her hair.

Cathy held on dearly with her right hand as she hit Emma on the side of the head with a hard left.

But Emma was driven -- she'd been down so long, and now she saw an opening. She absorbed the blow and then sent out a solid right kick to Cathy's midsection, and a knee to her face.

Cathy's head snapped back and she almost fell. Still, her right hand would not let go of Emma's hair, and Emma was pulled stumbling along.

Emma hit her with another right and a left. Then she sent a straight right kick to Cathy's right shoulder. The blow forced Cathy's right hand open - and freed Emma's hair.

Emma threw back her head, her great auburn mane flying, and grabbed Cathy's arm by the wrist. She twisted it, and shot a kick up into Cathy's exposed ribcage.

Still holding her by the wrist, Emma hit Cathy with a straight right to the face, and then a right to the gut. Twirling Cathy by her right arm, Emma launched her into Steed.

Cathy hit him flush with her backside. Emma had aimed it for maximum impact to Steed's family jewels -- and with excellent effect.

"Ooooooo!" Steed bellowed in pain.

Enjoying the sound, Emma rushed forward and grabbed Cathy by two handfuls of blond hair. She snapped Cathy's head forward and then threw it back, slamming her again into Steed.

Cathy hit Steed hard, bounced off, and fell back against him for support.

Steed, though smarting, didn't mind this, Cathy leaning back against him, her head inches from his face. He buried his face in her hair -- heavenly! -- and touched his lips to her bare neck, he tasted her salty skin...


Emma stepped up, landing rights and lefts into Cathy as if she were a heavy bag. The shocks were going right through Cathy and pounding Steed, too.

A solid right stood Cathy up. Emma spun around and, reaching back with her right arm, hooked Cathy's neck in her elbow. She snapped her arm forward and flipped Cathy over her shoulder, sending her crashing to the floor on her back.

Before Cathy's second bounce, Emma was on her, sinking two hands into blond hair. Up she yanked, drawing a squeal from Cathy.

"Come on," growled Emma, tightening her hold and using all her leverage to pull Cathy up off the floor. Cathy's feet kicked out for traction and her squeal became a scream.

"Painful, isn't it, Dr. Gale?" asked Emma, with relish.

Hurt and angry, Emma was now out for vengeance. She was beyond all plans and tactics now. She was reacting purely from instinct. She had suffered at Cathy's hands, and she wanted Cathy to suffer right back. She wanted not just to defeat her, but to beat her.

With a final great effort, she lifted high, hoisting Cathy right off her feet.


Cathy thudded down on wobbly legs, and Emma gave her no chance to set them. Digging her hands deeper in Cathy's hair, she snapped that blond head hard to the right, then to the left, up and down, back and forth.

Cathy arms flailed as she tried to stay on her feet. The pain was awful; the helplessness was worse.

Her head was snapped violently backward as Emma spun in a tight circle, keeping hold of Cathy's hair, letting centrifugal force do its work. Emma released and sent Cathy flying, back into the middle of the room.

Spinning and crashing went Cathy to the floor, landing face down in a clatter of legs and arms.

Her head bounced hard off the floor. She felt pain, pain everywhere; that's how she knew she was conscious. She also knew she must get up, but her arms weren't reacting.

Her vision was fuzzy, but she thought she saw movement. Blinking, she squinted. Two ... feet?

Cathy screamed again as her head was yanked skyward and she found on her knees being pulled up by her hair.

Those had, of course, been Emma's beautiful feet she'd spotted, and now Emma lifted them, right and left, burying knees into Cathy's midsection as she held the woman up by her hair.

Emma let go with her right hand and sent a solid fist across Cathy's jaw. She let go with her left and pummeled the blonde from both sides -- left to the chin, right to the stomach, knee to the chest, snap kick to the face.

Cathy's head flew to and fro, and she stumbled backwards, this way and that, as Emma rained down blows.

Cathy wasn't out of it, she could still think, but she couldn't react quick enough before -- "Ooof!" -- the next blow hit.

For her part, Emma couldn't see how Cathy was still standing. Another shot sent her stumbling back, but still not to the ground.

Emma gathered herself, and took off at a sprint toward Cathy. A yard or so in front of Cathy she jumped, with her right foot high in the air.

It wasn't a kick. Emma's right foot flew past Cathy's head and, as her left leg hit Cathy's chest, she pivoted and swung her right foot around Cathy's other shoulder. She locked her ankles in front of Cathy and grabbed a handful of hair for balance -- and Emma was sitting on Cathy's shoulders, the blonde's head securely between her legs.

A standing head scissors! If Cathy wasn't going to go down on her own, Emma was going to lend her weight to the project.

Cathy stumbled, but stayed up, knees bending below her. Emma's thighs were locked tightly around her head; she had to pull them apart to get a good breath. Her eyes were just above Emma's legs, but were half-covered by her own hair.

Emma reached high with both hands and, stopping for a moment like a high-diver over a pool, dove forward. Down she went, pulled by undeniable gravity, and so too behind her came Cathy, her head caught like a vice between Emma's thighs.

Rolling as she hit, Emma flung Cathy high in the air, releasing her hold at the top of the arc. Cathy sailed through the room, backside first, and hit with a bang.

Cathy's heard jerked up, spasmodically, and her eyes opened, only to roll back and close. Her head fell to the floor.

Steed, across the room, saw this as Emma's chance.

"The key! The key!"

If she heard, she didn't react.

Quickly closing, Emma pulled Cathy up the hair and an arm. Almost dead weight, Cathy give little resistance as Emma picked her up for a body slam.

Now it was Emma carrying her rival, effortlessly, across the floor.

"Let me put the question to you, Dr. Gale," said Emma. "Who is the better woman?"

Cathy's head was spinning. She looked out through the haze and, sliding in and out of focus, she could see Steed against the wall, and the floor down below her. She struggled, weakly.

"Bitch," was the only thing to come from Cathy's lips, until she landed with thud on her backside. Then she gave forth with a guttural wail.

Cathy slammed both arms to the floor and writhed in pain. Emma looked down with rage and went back to the attack.

"Mrs. Peel!" Steed now screamed. "The key! The key!"

Emma looked up, as if from a dream, and saw Steed across the floor. He beamed his best smile at her.

"Steed," she said, walking over toward him. "Are you still hanging around?"

He lost his smile.

"I'll be with you shortly - maybe," she said, non-chalantly.

Emma had made that mistake once - going for the key too soon - and she wouldn't make it again. She sneered at Sneed and turned to Cathy, groaning lightly on the floor.

Now she turned toward Cathy. Time to end this.

The Bad Loser

Cathy had rarely lost, throughout her life. She hated losing, and she was a very bad loser.

Childhood friends learned early that beating her at checkers could mean a physical beating for themselves. Her golf clubs still lie at the bottom of the lake at her family club's 18th hole, victims of an untimely duck-hook during the junior championship.

This need to win drove Cathy to work harder than her peers, to out-study them and out-train them. This ethic, almost a fear of defeat, served Cathy well through school and academics, Africa and the world the cloak and dagger.

Now, it was all going for naught. Her great scheme for revenge, her whole life's work, were going to be shattered here, by this woman, this Peel.

The thought stirred something inside of Cathy. No, she said to herself, she isn't going to beat me. This brunette, this usurper, this bitch. No.
From somewhere inside, from some deep well of strength, fed by hatred, Cathy pulled herself back into the world.

She heard voices. Emma had moved around, toward Steed, in front of her.

"I'll be with you shortly - maybe" - it was Peel's voice. Anger swept over Cathy.


Turning from Steed, Emma looked down on Cathy, stretched out on her back, feet spread toward her. Cathy moaned and struggled to move.

That was enough for Emma, who clenched her fists and went for her opponent with a growl.

The right foot that Cathy shot up and caught Emma with under the chin was but a glancing blow. It snapped Emma's head back in a blaze of auburn, but otherwise only slowed Emma down a moment.

Emma shook it off and dove back down -- right into Cathy's trap.

For that moment's hesitation had given Cathy the opportunity to bring her left foot up as well, and she positioned a leg on each side of Emma's head.
As Emma surged forward, her arms reaching madly for Cathy, she felt the trap close. Cathy brought her thighs together around Emma's head, locked her ankles, and squeezed.

She caught Emma's hair flying through her legs, entwined her left hand in it, and pulled.

Now it was Cathy applying the leg scissors. She had Emma's head in a vice, face forward, between her powerful thighs. The grip on her hair prevented
Emma from pulling out; she could do little damage reaching around Cathy's hips.

Emma swore at herself as she felt the scissors applied. Why had she bothered to even acknowledge Steed? That hesitation cost her.

She knew, beyond all things, she couldn't go to the floor. She had to stay on her feet. Then she could throw this bitch off and finish the beating.

Emma struggled to get to her feet, with Cathy firmly clamped around her head. Cathy tightened her legs and pulled Emma down by the hair, thrashing her body left and right, trying to throw Emma to the ground.

Cathy, too, knew it was over of she could just get Emma to the floor.

With a final push Emma stood, precariously, with Cathy hanging down in front of her, refusing to release her hold.

Emma stumbled like a drunk, trying to swing Cathy off. Cathy's legs were locked painfully around her head. She couldn't see through her own hair, entwined in Cathy's grasp. And she could barely breath.

Steed watched Emma sway back and forth under Cathy's weight. Then, with final mighty yank, she came tumbling down.

Cathy landed on her left side, her legs still tight around Emma's head. Emma landed on her right side, the fall produced a crushing blow to her skull. She tried to get up, but Cathy had the leverage. With a shrug of her hips she brought Emma crashing back to the floor -- another crushing blow to her head.

Tightly she clung to Emma's auburn locks, squeezing with all her might. Emma flailed away with her left hand, hitting and scratching, until Cathy grabbed it by the wrist, twisting it painfully. Emma's right arm was trapped underneath her.

Cathy bridged, raising her hips up off the floor, as high as she could, then slammed back down to floor. Again she raised up and slammed down. And again. And again.

Each blow delivered savage force to Emma's head, like a nut in a nut-cracker. By the third or fourth time she was seeing stars. Desperate, Emma summoned all her strength, tried to roll over, yank her hand free, anything. But it was wasted movement.

Again Cathy threw her hips to the ground, and down went Emma. More stars.

Cathy felt the life draining out of the woman. Her own muscles were fatigued with the effort. How much longer could she hold this scissors?
As long as needed, Cathy thought to herself. As long as needed.

She lifted her legs and banged Emma to the floor. Lifted and banged again. This brought no reaction.

Cathy rolled onto her back, rolling Emma at the same time onto her stomach. Cathy pulled her up by the hair, and there was Emma's beautiful face, now almost purple, sweat-covered and gasping for breath, rising up from between Cathy's legs.

"I guess, Steed," said Cathy, looking over at her prisoner, "this would be your dream come true, wouldn't it?"