I stand in my cabin located somewhere in the middle of the boat, as I look though the window that spans the full length of my room from floor to celling. I see the land we set sail from disappear in the horizon. I pull my bikini top straps tight that hold my perfect tits, my black thong so snug and it matches perfectly with my jet black hair. I then apply the oil that was left for me on my nightstand, my hands glide over my chiseled body. Looking in the mirror I smile and flex, I'm in the best shape of my life and it really shows.
This all started In college, my boyfriend was a MMA fighter. At first I would go with him to watch him train. As the months went by I started working out with him and everyone sensed me as a natural. I started sparring, I was showing up very experienced fighters that were much bigger then me. It was such a thrill I had to try a few amateur fights and I won them all with a KO. I've now been fighting and training for years. I've never been beaten and the thrill or dominating my rival really gets me off, it's almost sexual as they lay at my feet unconscious, my pussy wet from excitement. I then heard about this underground club and how much money it pays. I met with the organization and they had me do a couple "prefights", well I kicked ass again and now they asked if I'd do a real one, the main fight, on a yacht. So yes I'm a rookie but with a real background in fighting.
I look down through my tits, onto my toned abs and then my muscular very sexy thighs. Definitely not what I'm use to, fixing my bikini one last time. Normally it's shorts and a sports bra. My fights have not been glamorous, my fight league is known as the best in the country, far exceeding the rest and I haven't lost one fight. My nipples tighten as I think of the stakes, owning a blonde bimbo for a week will be incredible, a fantasy come true I think, as my pussy gets wetter and wetter. Suddenly a knock at the door that starlets me, I open and see a very sexy Asian ready to escort me out. Swinging my hips I leave the inner rooms and am exposed to the outdoors.. The sun is beating down, it's so hot, so humid the oil on my skin heats up instantly. Then a larger ROAR as I'm introduced to the men and women.. I walk out shaking my hips, holding my fist in the air, my body tight and strong. I enter the ring, head held high, my chest out, nipples so hard and tight they could cut glass.
Where is this fucking bitch?? No way am I losing in front of all these people. When I win, I'm going to put on a show that no one on this FCF boat will ever forget!
I glance at the clock, then back at the mirror. It's 15:35 now, and I should be getting a knock on the door any moment. These things tend not to keep exactly to the scheduling, as the event takes place at the leisure of the league ownership, share-holders, and wealthy donors, who generally profit from the gambling, as well as the ppv subscriptions, so a slight delay helps take in cash from last-minute bets.
I've been ready, and in-costume, for the last hour, warming up in my mid-deck room. I'm wearing a simple, black, polyester/spandex micro-t-shirt, with a plunging neckline that shows plenty of tan, freckled, cleavage, as well as a matching high-rise thong. A bit of sweat-proof mascara and eyeliner highlights my brilliant blue eyes, which glitter just like the sea around us, but are a colder, less green, shade of sapphire. My golden-blonde hair is gathered behind my head in a medium-ponytail, held by a black hair-tie. My lips are touched with subtle pink-cherry gloss, and my toe/fingernails are done french-style, trimmed short.
That knock at the door finally comes, and I flash myself a confident smile in the mirror before answering, knowing that tonight I'll be out of this tiny closet, lounging in one of the Captain Suites with my busty new trophy. I'm naturally cautious, but confident too, and I've barely entertained the thought of losing to a rookie. Luna might have copious (even impressive) amateur experience, but I've fought and defeated much bigger, stronger, more-established, fighters. In fact, I'm 6-0 in my FCF career, and have vast experience fighting outside of the ring. My moniker: The Assassin isn't just a clever way of using 'ass', alliteration, and implying danger (though, it is all those things) but a nod to my previous military and para-military work as a hit-girl, bodyguard, covert operative. The specifics of my past are classified, but the powers behind the FCF League are well-informed and well funded, so, upon learning I was for hire, they quickly brought me in as a fighter, and I discovered I could make a fair amount of cash by beating brats senseless.
"Luna is already in the ring. You're up." Aiko (the Asian woman, who works as ring-attendant, assistant management, and fighter liaison for FCF) explains, looking very demure and professional in her floral orange and white sun-dress. I follow her through the hallway, already acclimated to the swaying of the vessel, making our way to the service elevator. I hear the DJ over the ship's intercom, calling out my arrival as the elevator ascends.
"
Making her way to the ring...standing 5'10" 125 Pounds...Averieeee thee ASSASSIN!"
Ping! The elevator reaches the top-deck, and I'm greeted by cheers and whistles. The yacht only houses 80 guests, but the crew is present in the bleachers. The crowd is a mix of one-percents...corporate guys, mob guys, lawyers, legislators, at least one Saudi Prince...mostly middle-aged men and their trophy-wives, mistresses, whatever. Their sun-chairs are parted to make an isle to the ring, and I glide past, sharing the occasional look, smile, cheek-kiss. The camera-drones float around me, broadcasting my entrance (and your stretching/glaring) to FCFs global stream, and I make sure to tease them with a few flirty poses, showing off my tall, athletic, figure.
Finally, I reach the ropes, taking them in both hands and vaulting into the ring (which is set into the deck itself). The mat gives a soft clap as I land on the balls of my feet, my gaze fixed on my shorter, curvier, dark-haired rival. "Hey shorty. Ready for a workout?" I call, teasing you with a cocky smile as I linger near the ropes, bouncing lightly on my toes and shaking out my arms, making sure I'm limber, but also keeping an eye on you.
