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Ridged Hollow (Losing is never graceful series)

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Offline Alana Quill

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Ridged Hollow (Losing is never graceful series)
« on: April 02, 2020, 07:37:35 PM »
This is a totally weird short story for me. Here is the context: I had a foxy boxing match. It was super fun because she's ridiculously creative and hits the spot (pun intended) between nicely technical and dynamic in her writing. People like this make me literally wet because you all know I get off on the best writing. So anyway we decided to write a foxy boxing match and we made some decisions about it which I had so much fun writing. Point is I think the rules we came up with are going to be my new foxy boxing standard rules/setting from here on out. Getting to the point, she beat me up and knocked my tits out. What can I say other than that. It was lovely, I want a rematch not because I care that I lost but because it was hot and fun. It got me thinking though that unless there is concerted effort to tell a multiple fight story most cybers are only a single instance and then the fighters instantly bounce back and onto the next battle. Well I wanted to explore that space between the "ridged hollow". If you're familiar with Imogen Heap then you'll recognize the title of this short story as the name of a song. Give it a listen if you like but the feeling of losing, exploring the space after a fight specifically a loss, and the idea of waiting through something we don't like are what went into this. I hope you like it. Please let me know if its effective. Without further meandering.

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It's funny how your body addresses pain. In the beginning its shocking and often overwhelming in its sensations. Something that slices into your brain or bludgeon your senses so you can't focus. Some pain is so blinding that it blocks out your senses entirely rendering the memory nearly inaccessible beyond "That hurt a lot." When I was in highschool I sprained my ankle in the middle of a boxing tournament. It hurt, that's really all I remember, I don't have a metric for it but I know it hurt more than most things in my life in fact it hurt worse than being punched. Then again I can't tell you how being punched feels other than it hurts but in a sort of blunt slightly rounded way. It doesn't burn and it doesn't slice or pinch.

The acute pain wears off quickly, though with most it dissolves into some sort of burn, throb, ache, or other slow creeping reminder of the first pain. Often it can be re-agitated to some small reminder of the initial acute pain. Usually it's not that hard to do either. Being punched for instance leads to bruising most of the time which ache or throb typically they are only inflamed by touching them. Depending on the location that's easier or harder to do and it usually changes how much it hurts.

As I sat on the benches at the back of the studio building the North American Foxy Boxing league used for its fights and filming I was reminded that there were some things I needed to avoid doing. It made my stomach twist slightly at the thought. Biting my lower lip in annoyance I surveyed the other women in the studio. Almost all of them were in bikinis with gloves or heading for the dressing rooms to change. Through the open door at the far end of the studio I could see a few in sports bras and leggings working on bags and with trainers. The studio provided a free place for us to train and practice between matches. The thought made me even more annoyed as I continued worrying my lower lip. It was a bad habit but today I didn't bother stopping it.

Just a week ago I had been one of the girls wearing a bikini and gloves waiting to get in the ring. The thought was like picking at a scab over a partially healed wound. I sighed heavily and shifted. The sigh suddenly became a hiss and then a growl of further frustration as my tender breasts moved against my ribs from the shifting. Another reminder of why I wasn't in gloves and a bikini today.

The league had a unique set of rules but it also meant that they had some different requirements for fighters to be cleared to get back in the ring. I understood why that was now. Loser's were required to take two weeks off from boxing which was an awful punishment for me. Most dreaded the loss of their bikini or the mark on their record. Even the permanent footage of their defeat or the fact that you suffered a breast battering punishment paled in comparison to being barred from fighting for me.

It was the last punishment which got you benched. After being knocked out I'd awoken to my large naked breasts being worked over. It had hurt as they were freely bludgeoned by the winner's gloved hands. I remembered that it hurt and that my gut had twisted in humiliation as my spectacular rack was punished for my inability to overcome another beautiful busty woman in the ring.

Following that she'd taken me to the Locker room. When we were finally finished they had the doctor come take a look at me. The truth was I was tough despite my looks, I'd come up fighting larger and more skilled fighters so I could battle with the best of them. In the end it really didn't help the true problem. After a quick check of the rest of my body I found out why I wouldn't be allowed to box again for two weeks. My chest was red, swollen, and painful. In addition at this point it had started to bruise. According to the league's resident doctor the problem with letting the loser's fight again before they were healed was two fold. The first problem was that it was painful to get punched in the chest when you were worked the way the losers were. Which made sense but more than that it was common for our boobs to come popping out in a fight and the production team didn't want girls with bruised boobs to be filmed. It wasn't the image they wanted for the foxy boxing matches. Redness and swelling were fine but not purple and yellow bruises.

Looking down at the zip up sweatshirt I was wearing I delicately cinched the zipper down to reveal the curve of my chest, naked under the sweatshirt. I hadn't been able to put in a bra since I received my punishment for losing. It stung both physically and mentally. I grimaced at the purple and yellow bruises. Thankfully they would be gone soon enough but I still wasn't happy that my chest was so marred. Earlier in the week I had made the mistake of trying to train. The bouncing alone had brought back the acute pain immediately. I scowled at my bag where it lay on the floor. My plan had been to try again today to try and make myself feel better. Some badass bitch who wouldn't let a loss keep her down. Show the management and producers I was fine.

That had just been humiliating five minutes into my workout I had to quit, the pain from my unconfined tits bouncing around under my sweatshirt had brought me to my knees. As they called for the next pair of fighters I glared daggers at the second girl. She was a darker skin tone with well developed curls balanced with smooth muscle. It was her fault I was here now like this. I didn't hate her for the win, or even losing my bikini. I hated her for this punishment, being forced to watch and. Ot fight. To live being told I was out for two weeks, again. The background ache of my breasts twinging painfully at the distant sound of her smacking her gloves together. I hoped she could feel my ineffectual stare boring into the back of her head as she prepared for her fight. My only thought was that I hoped she won so that she wouldn't be benched. It had nothing to do with wanting her to win and everything to do with wanting to pay her back myself. I wanted her to suffer the humiliation of being forced to sit and watch others battle because her breasts were too battered to be on display.

As the fight started I sighed and snarled to myself. Seeing my bag again I huffed before inspiration struck. Standing carefully I climbed down from the benches to collect it. The gear in it was not my foxy boxing gear but from my amateur boxing days. It had dawned on me that I had something in the bag I hadn't realized I had.

For this new league fighters didn't wrap their hands. It was for two reasons: the first was because it meant you couldn't punch ridiculously hard with no pain from the punch. Wraps structured the hand and protected it. The second reason was that when you were stripped of your gloves you were truly naked. No weird wraps on your hands, just your bare body.

Pushing into the locker room I slid through it to the showers. They weren't in use yet and I closed the door behind me on the excited girls chattering and getting dressed in the main lockers. After they were in their bikinis they would move to dressing rooms for makeup and help into their gloves.

That left me to my own devices.

Standing before one of the floor length mirrors in the shower rooms I inhaled slowly as I mentally prepared myself. I had avoided this moment so far but I had to do this for what I had in mind. Reaching up I grimaced as I unzipped my sweatshirt revealing the results of my punishment. I let the sweater fall and stood with an irritated look of displeasure on my face.

Before me the bruises were on their way out but they were in their ugly phase. Purple and yellow patterns covered most of my proud breasts. I could tell they were still slightly swollen as I gently hefted them; weighing them gingerly. It was still painful despite my careful touch. In the past I had done Titfights and it often left my chest red, swollen, and slightly bruised something that left quickly. This was different, the work of gloved fists on my impressive curves. Stealing myself I scowled at my reflection and my self pitying response. The first two days I had moped and iced and felt sorry for myself. Then I'd given up on training. I'd been angry and full of loathing blaming my situation on the rules, my in ability, my opponent. It didn't matter. I had work to do if I wanted to fight again and avoid this situation where I was put on the bench as punishment. The league and most of its members didn't even view the medical leave as punishment. You got paid like everyone else, you could come and go, watch fights, train. Basically you got to do whatever you wanted and take off two weeks from fighting. Not a bad deal since some of the girls did take losing hard and wanted to put fighting out of their minds.

It was different for me. I was just lucky I hadn't picked a bar fight yet or done something worse to make myself feel better.

With my chest still absently cradled in my hands I finally released it as I returned to my immediate surroundings. Bending down I opened my back and rummaged before producing two rolled semi elastic bands that I had used to wrap my hands. Unrolling them I began the process of encasing my chest in the hands. Wrapping them carefully I wound them around and under my chest to give springy support that wouldn't agitate the bruises much. It made the background ache worse but when I was done I stood looking at my rack wrapped in black bands.

There was only one way to test it.

With a heavy I jumped hard. My chest bounced and it hurt like hell but I could fight through the pain. The wraps had worked. Taking my old battered black and white gloves from my bag I walked into the locker room in my workout shorts, nearly topless. It drew a few looks but I ignored them as I stuffed my bag in my empty locker. At least it was good for something now since I had no gloves or bikini to keep in it.

A new purposeful stride carried me out of the lockers. Crossing the studio I made for the training room. As pain chewed at the back of my brain I shoved it down. All I had needed was something to keep it mostly controlled. This I could manage. My ears still burned and my stomach still twisted as I passed the pristine women in bikinis exchanging looks as I walked but at least now I had purpose. I'd be back eventually until then….

I fixed my gaze in a heavy bag and felt just the gentlest stirring of the thrill I experienced in the ring. It was still there. I could still fight. As I squared up with the bag and pulled on my gloves I felt the corner of my mouth tug towards a smirk. Just barely.

With a heave and a hiss the bag bounced on its chains for the first of many hits. The sound turning the heads of the others in the room. Watch and learn bitches


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Offline bcw8

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Re: Ridged Hollow (Losing is never graceful series)
« Reply #1 on: April 02, 2020, 08:23:59 PM »
It may be the inner fight that is the hardest.  Beat the pain first.  Then her.

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Offline Alana Quill

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Re: Ridged Hollow (Losing is never graceful series)
« Reply #2 on: April 02, 2020, 08:36:38 PM »
It may be the inner fight that is the hardest.  Beat the pain first.  Then her.

Basically the idea I was playing with for this

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Offline Alana Quill

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Re: Ridged Hollow (Losing is never graceful series)
« Reply #3 on: April 03, 2020, 06:04:42 PM »
Absolutely enjoyable, you’re really thinking further when writing a story

Ideally, the best fights I've had are usually more than a one off.

I enjoyed this very much, thank you.

Thanks! Glad to hear it

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Offline Alana Quill

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Re: Ridged Hollow (Losing is never graceful series)
« Reply #4 on: April 16, 2020, 05:44:01 PM »
I appreciate that. Actually the next match I have is a chat log with Mercedes it follows this event chronologically