[LilMishyRocks]

   Part of what made these events so enjoyable—-no, that’s too weak of a word—-so invigorating, was truly the night before.  Last night, I was bestowed with the graces and trappings worthy of a princess—-and rightfully so!  As my father, and his father before him, is the chieftain of our people, the ruler of our lands from the base of the mountains to the beaches of the salty sea, I, his oldest daughter, am not only his princess, but the princess of my people.  Alas, my brother, three years my elder, stands to reside in my father’s regal hut once he passes—-that is the way of succession and how our nation has retained stability and tranquility for many ages.  Knowing this, I am content to serve my father, and eventually my brother, as part of the royal family.

   Our nation has grown monumentally under our last three chieftains.  Rival nations and marauders have, from time to time, attempted to engulf us, to steal our culture, raid our land.  Eons ago, war would have been the way of our peoples—-great armies meeting away from the villages, battling, men lanced with spears or gutted with the blade.  Once the carnage had ended, the victorious tribe would ooze into the villages and lands of the vanquished people, re-building the destroyed structures, re-planting the charred fields, and enslaving the surviving women and children.

   It was Meka, my great-grandfather, family lore maintains, who changed the way our peoples warred.  Meka recognized that both nations lose in such a war—-culture, food, shelter, and tradition all being destroyed with the hundreds of dead warriors on each side.  Instead, he suggested to the ruler of Belatar, who at that time was our chief rival nation, that the scions of the kings should fight in hand to hand combat.  The people would watch, cheering on their champion, until one was either killed or submitted to the other.  And with that, the victorious nation would simply acquire everything that was the nation of the loser—-its land, dwellings, treasures, and people, and the winning nation grew larger and stronger.

   Since then, our nation has had five such conflicts—-my father fought in two as a young man, each time, of course, emerging as the stronger.  Two seasons ago, my brother fought—-although as siblings we argue and fight—-I watched with pride as he tore into the son of the rival chieftain, dominating him easily.  But at the end, when it was clear that my brother was the victor, the beaten heap that was my brother’s opponent refused to submit, so my brother made him pay—-humiliating him over and over in front of the combined people of our nations.

   This morning, I am to represent our nation.  Although it does not happen often, if the chief of a threatening nation does not have a son, and only a daughter, then the defending nation must respond in kind, with either the chieftain’s own daughter of other female relation fighting for the honor of her people.  At 5’2 and 100 lbs, I have dreamed of this day for almost all of my twenty years.  I have had two weeks to prepare—running and sparring daily, honing my toned body, expanding, I hope, my strength and endurance.  I am not big, I know, not like some of our Amazon warriors, and I am told that the sun-haired daughter of our rival is slightly larger than me,  and my excitement grows as  I prepare to meet her on the beach at dawn.  yt

[michellecatfites]

5'2" 100 lbs soaking wet having driven such a passionate discussion amungst the FCF for this virtual forum.....how fitting it is that she do the first fight. Wishing you and your partner success.

[LilMishyRocks]

   From a distance, I see the tiny specks of what will soon be members of the Caiapo, making their way toward the fighting circle.  My family, of course, tribal elders, and invited guests have already assembled to watch what should prove to be an exciting and entertaining battle.  As they are one of the larger nations, Caiapo was well-known to most of us.  I smirked when I heard that my opponent would be the Queen in Waiting, Erin.  Oh, not because I doubted her skills—-after all, she is larger and stronger (some say) than me, and I know I will need all my skills to defeat her—-and defeat her I will.  But there were rumors, of course.  One was that she had been soundly beaten by some commoner in an animal shed recently, and the other, that her mother was a common whore.  As I say, both rumors—-either could be true or patently false—-and I’m sure some swirled around about me in their tribe as well.

   As the figures loomed larger in their approach, I could see Erin near the front of the procession.  Already topless, she rightfully flaunted the way the early morning sun shone on her tanned skin, the subtle sheen of sweat highlighting her taut stomach and toned arms.  I scowled as even members of our own party, the males of course, turned their heads to watch her approach, their eyes fixed about 12 inches below hers, the swine.

   Although this was tradition, it was a newer one, not cloaked in centuries of pageantry and custom.  The two chiefs would greet each other briefly, clasp hands, and then take to opposite sides of the fighting circle.  The fighters would then enter, stand in the middle, and await the command to fight.  The battle ended, of course, when one could no longer continue—-either through submission or death.

   I watched as my father gripped the hands of Erin’s father—-not in a hostile manner, but as if to communicate “this is in the best interests of both of our people”, and her father did the same.  As they separated and withdrew to their respective sides, I slipped off my own top.  Not as exhibitional as my opponent, I was subtly more conservative.  My own body was about 4 inches shorter than hers, maybe 10 lbs lighter.  My chestnut hair fell loosely past my shoulders, and my body was tight and toned. No flashy muscles rippling as did hers, but I knew that my skills were speed and guile.  I padded my way to the center of the circle, my toes curling into the warm sand, and placed my hands on my hips.  yt

[RedEnforcer]

(This is going to be sooooo good)

[LilMishyRocks]

   The slut approaches—-there is truly no other word.  Despite all the trappings, the pageantry, her so-called pedigree—-well, as my father says, one cannot shine a turd no matter how hard one tries.  I smirk as you stop several paces from me, and then, as the ceremony dictates, bow to me.  I respond in kind, remnants of the smirk still playing on my lips, when I hear you hiss at me—-words meant only for my ears.  A bold and audacious threat, obviously designed to rattle me.  Surprise me it does, only insofar as speaking at this point is a breach of protocol, but well, there’s the whole turd thing again….

   We both rise, and as did our fathers, should clasp hands briefly.  I begin to extend mine as you step forward, right hand raised, and am stunned as your palm instead slices in at my face, snapping my head to the right.  Both tribes erupt with verbalizations, again, a breach, and my hand goes to my cheek—-I can almost feel the reddened handprint arising on my smooth skin.  I slowly bring my face back to you, locking eyes.  The smug look on your face does not escape me, and I see your body tense, probably expecting retaliation from me.

   But instead, I smile, and then chuckle, and with a voice loud enough for both sides to hear, I announce, “If that is an example of the best that the Caiapo warrior has to offer, then I suggest that our tribe begin preparing the victory meal now.”  I know I shouldn’t have breached the tradition, but, well, the comment was received with laughs from the warriors standing near my father, scowls from the Caiapo.  “Enough!” my father bellows.  “Our daughters’ passions seem stronger than their lessons…”  A glance at both of us, and then his hand slices down in the air as both he and Erin’s father shout, “FIGHT!”

   But I move just as his upper teeth touch his lower lip to say the word, pivoting on my bare foot, digging it into the sand as my right foot rises and I try to snap a hard, fast kick directly into your toned abs to get things started with a sizzle.  yt

[LilMishyRocks]

   You’re fast—-picking up on my subtle and maybe not-so-subtle body movements as I start to pivot.  My foot hits your gut, but not as solidly as I wanted, annoying you rather than hurting you, and your hands dart out, grabbing my foot before I can pull it back and down.  Balancing only on my left now, a hundred thoughts fly through my head in an instant as to what you may do and how I might counter. What would I do were the positions reversed?  That thought barely takes form as your own right foot lifts from the sand and blazes for my left knee.

   I had heard that the Princess Erin had spent most of her latter adolescence on her back—-now it seems that when not on her back, you may have also spent some time in the sparring ring, for your skills are honed and speed admirable.  I can’t avoid the kick, but I try to bend my left knee as your sole slams into it, lessening what could have been the hobbling effect of your kick, but it still lands solidly.  My pained left knee drops fully into the sand, my body follows, with my right foot still elevated, in your grip.  I thank the gods for my flexibility as my hands fly out, fingers clutching onto your loin cloth, and I try to jerk your hips towards me as I lower my head and thrust the top of my hard skull into your lower abdominals, right below your navel.  yt

[LilMishyRocks]

   Even with the bit of pain pulsing in my knee from your kick, I smirk as the cloth snaps off in my hand and you are exposed to the gathered.  I’m unsure about the specific protocols of the Caiapo —- in our tribe a member of the royal family would never allow herself to be seen fully unclothed—-unless she were married.  But as I suspect, you probably spend many a night nude with groups of men, so this is just a natural occurrence for you.

   Your body drops almost on me as I pull you down to the sand and ram my hard skull into your gut.  I hear and feel the air rush from your chest amid the cheers from my side, and you drop, your hands digging into the sand to brace your fall, your knee sliding between my thighs and hitting my bloom.  Pain followed by a tiny wave of nausea radiates through my gut at the impact, but I am lucky—-the blow could have been debilitating had you not stopped yourself with your hands and started to roll off me as soon as  you dropped.

   Your body rolls off mine as I hear you wheeze and gasp, tiny rivulets of sweat already beading on your bare back as the morning sun arcs upward.  My hand quickly slides between my legs—-a quick little rub to help ease the pain throbbing down there—- and then I follow—-rolling to my side as well.  I try to press my bare chest into your back as my hands reach to you; the fingers of my left grabbing a handful of your sun-kissed hair to jerk your head back and towards me, exposing your throat, and my right arm tries to snake over and cut my forearm into that exposed throat.  I curl up next to you, in almost a fetal position, pressing my knees into your back as I push your head forward, into my forearm, and taunt, “Your size and muscles mean nothing, slut.  Within moments you will be giving me a full body tongue-bath….”  yt 

[LilMishyRocks]

  My satisfaction at cutting my forearm into your throat is short-lived, as you skillfully grab my wrist and twist your nubile body, taking me by surprise with a move I didn’t anticipate, and within seconds, my face and chest are powered down into the warm, powdery sand, my right arm twisted and stretched out from my body.  I want to hurl curses at you as i struggle beneath you, but I know that to open my mouth is only to invite in a mouthful of sand, so I hold my tongue—-at least that is my intent…

   Your knee SLAMS into the back of my arm, above the elbow, exploding into my bicep—-and intent or not, I scream into the sand—-the sound muffled of course, but my tongue tastes the ground as I writhe, my arm pinned by your knee that cuts into my muscle.  You inadvertently help me out by grabbing my hair and wrenching my head back, which takes it away from the nasty sand.

  I have few options, and I would be humiliated if I conceded this early in the fight, so in desperation I try and pull my knees forward, scrunching them under my body, which raises me up just a bit from the ground, although my arm remains pinned.  My left hand flies over and behind my head as my fingers try and grab a handful of your hair in the hopes of jerking your head, and body, quickly and sharply toward me, causing you to lose balance and slide off my arm.  I can only hope!  yt

[LilMishyRocks]

   Your weight shifts as I tear at your hair, jerking your head over and down, and your knee painfully slips off my trapped bicep as a surge of relief courses through my arm.  But before I can even start to move, your fist slams into my lower back, stymying any thought of offense.  Concerned groans flow from my side of the fighting circle, as doubts grow about my ability to defeat the larger, and now apparently stronger girl.  I feel your fingers curl under the edge of my leather loin cloth, and a second later, amid the laughs of your side of the circle, I feel the warm rays of the sun bathe my now bare ass cheeks, matched only by the warmth of embarrassment spreading across my OTHER set of cheeks.

   A sharp slap on my bottom jolts me back into reality—-your smooth palm snapping onto my exposed cheeks.  I allow two slaps, feeling my posterior almost radiate with heat from the slaps and then quickly try to end this humiliation. With my knees still bent under me, turtle-esque, I rotate slightly to the side as you lift your hand for a third slap, and then quickly push my elbows down into the sand and kick out backwards, mule-style, in the hopes of slamming both of my bare soles into Your Highness’s chest, and maybe turning this one-sided beatdown around.  yt

[Stacie t'Bean]

Come on Erin!!!!   You got her but watch out for those feet! 

[LilMishyRocks]

   My body rises just enough so that I am able to piston my legs backward and up, and instantly I have the satisfying feeling of the soles of my feet exploding into your chest.  Your hardened nipples press into the bottom of my feet all so briefly before your body is hurled backwards, and a moment later I hear the THUD of it landing in the sand, in a heap, just before the warriors of my tribe let out bellows of cheers, for I have finally struck back.  I quickly push myself up to my feet, wincing a bit at the still ongoing pain in my right arm and my backside, a bit ashamed now that all who dare cast a glance at my tight posterior may see the reddened remnant of your handprint.

   Turning to face you, I am amazed that you’re already on your feet, in fighting stance.  Not winded, barely mussed by what I thought was a semi-debilitating blow.  My brow furrows at the thought of how much harder I’ll need to fight now to fight defeat this pre-Amazon, because clearly what I’ve been doing is nowhere near enough.  I adopt a similar stance, crouching a bit, and we approach each other.  “Let’s go again, baby cakes…” you taunt, and I consider how regressed and repulsive your tribe surely must be to bake babies into cakes, but I try not to let it rattle me, only smirking as I approach, every muscle in my smaller body taut, eyes wide open, monitoring every rippled or flexed muscle in yours. 

   Almost within striking range, my eyes settle on those damned breasts of yours, perfect, swaying with the rhythm of your body, mocking my smaller pair openly—-perfect targets—-or so I want you to think.  I dig my left foot into the powdery sand and quickly kick up, hoping to unload a footful of the soil into your face, and then jump up from my planted right foot to deliver what I hope is another double-footed explosive kick to your chest! yt

[LilMishyRocks]

   It was at that precise moment—-the second that my sandy soles slammed into your sweat-slicked sisters—-that I felt it: an internal surge, call it adrenaline, call it passion—- but my body became energized, fueled, as if the pain I inflicted upon your body were instantaneously mutated and channeled back to me as strength and stamina!  I feel your chest compress with the kick and then your body flies backwards.  Mine drops the few feet into the soft soil, and as if I was covered in rubber, i bounce back to my feet.

   I take only a second to admire your nude body, spread-eagle on the sand, breasts jiggling as the body settles.  I glance to the sides and see some of the warriors on both sides with hands under their loin clothes.  “Hrmph…” I think, rationalizing that it must be because of the intensity of our battle, rather than the now-vulnerable position of the buxom blonde princess. 

   Movement from your prone form drags me back into the present, and I start to move as you slowly roll yourself over to your stomach, and then begin to haul yourself up to hands and knees.  I run the few steps between us, and leap, spreading my legs slightly, leaning forward, knowing that I am about to land on your back and hopefully slam that pretty body of yours back down—-hard—-onto the sand.  yt

[Katherine The Great]

Very awesome fight, ladies!! Loving the action!

[LilMishyRocks]

   Your nubile body flattens, like your personality, under me as my tight ass cheeks slam onto your back, and a small puff of the powdery sand rises around us at the impact.  I hear a groan from beneath me as the air jets out from your lungs, and I watch as you turn your head to the side and start to spit out sand from your great big maw.  But although you’re down, you’re certainly not out as your hand digs into the sand and you toss it up and over your shoulder, no doubt trying to aim for my face.  A noble effort from an ignoble wannabe, but as I sit astride you, I simply watch you go through the motions, and your intent is clearly telegraphed.  I lean a bit to the left as you hurl the soil backwards, and it pelts my right shoulder annoyingly. 

   But I seize the moment, and your right wrist, before you bring it back down, grabbing it with my own right hand, and as you instinctively try to fight that, I then lean forward and try to snare your left wrist, hoping to pull your arms back and wrap my toned legs around them so that I am sitting in your back, legs crossed, your biceps trapped and pressing against my calves.  yt

[LilMishyRocks]

   My legs cinch tighter around your arms.  I can feel your flexed biceps pressing into my own tight calf muscles as you struggle, but I know that your arms, strong as they may be, are no match for my legs.  I smirk as you writhe beneath me, the bigger girl, nude, covered in sweat and sand, being sat upon and trapped by the smaller one.  Cheers erupt from my side of the circle, and then become louder as I start to slap the back of your head with my hands, interspersing taunts now and then.  Your tribe has become noticeably quiet now, as the reality of the situation begins to set in.  “By nightfall, you’ll be the servant of my servant, slut,” I hiss, followed by another sharp slap to the back of your head with my palm.

   That last one may have ignited something within you, as I feel your legs try to scramble beneath me, your ass pushing up slightly, feet digging into the soft sand, butt rising more and then you shake it furiously, from side to side.  This must be exhausting you, with your arms trapped, lifting yourself combined with my body weight.  It illustrates your great strength, and only underscores for me the importance of wearing you down bit by bit until you become my plaything.  A significantly jarring waggle of your ass, combined with the sweat on our skin causes me to slip to the side, and together we lose our balance, flopping over to our right sides, my legs still wrapped around your arms.  You are now facing half of the fight circle, and I snicker in back of you as I tighten my legs, hoping to numb your arms and shoulders.  “I would think by now your warriors have grown quite tired of your rather common tits, slut…no need to flash them!”

   It becomes clear though, that as painful as this hold may be, it will not finish you, not now anyway, on our sides.  So still keeping your arms trapped with my legs, my right hand reaches out to grab a healthy handful of your hair, while my left stretches to grip your left ankle.  Once my grips are tight, I loosen my left leg, allowing your deadened arm to slide out, and quickly place my foot against your lower back, keeping your right arm still coiled in my right leg.  I piston a kick into your spine, and then keep my foot there, pressing, pushing my leg out further, trying to straighten it fully, as I pull back on your hair and foot with my hands, arching your body back to resemble our hunters’ bows.  yt