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Rival Wives

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Offline bcw8

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Rival Wives
« on: May 06, 2020, 08:26:30 AM »
Anjali and Mike first appear in Family Ritual https://www.freecatfights.com/forums/index.php?topic=87877.0.  Thanks again to Wives fighting (https://www.freecatfights.com/forums/index.php?action=profile;u=33206) for the background to this fight.

Anjali loved the way she felt in this dress.  “Why don’t we do this more often?” she asked Mike, as she turned right, and then left, in front of the hotel room mirror.

He loved how she looked.  The dress she’d packed was rather daring, a silk sheath that hugged her figure and flashed quite a lot of cleavage, especially for a professional function, but how could he object?  She was stunning, her black hair loose, her dark skin glowing against the midnight blue of the dress.  With a strand of pearls and silver bracelets, she was his goddess. 

OK, one thing he did have to question.

“No underwear?”

“It’s silk, baby.  The lines would show.  Tacky!”

They had been married less than six months.  The honeymoon wasn’t over yet.  She saw the bulge in his slacks.  She reached under her hair on the back of her neck to unclasp her halter and the dress cascaded down over her body, rippling like a silk waterfall.

“We can be late,” she purred.  They were.

The event was a global meeting of the multinational company that Mike worked for.  There were probably five hundred attendees plus significant others.  The huge ballroom of the hotel was crowded as they circulated with their drinks.  Anjali charmed everyone she met.  She showed off her ring, a lovely diamond, and told lies of how well she got on with her new mother-in-law. 

“Fuck,” said Mike.  “Peri’s here.”

If normal people can be said to have a nemesis, Mike’s nemesis was definitely Peri.  They came from the same village in Sri Lanka, from rival families, two sons of the same age.  It was only after adulthood that Mike learned that his mother, Meera, had fought Peri’s mother more than once to settle disputes.  Meera never lost a fight - until Anjali - but Peri had generally bested Mike.  Better at school, better at sports, and now, working for the same multinational, risen higher in rank.

At Peri’s shoulder was his wife, Augusta.  She was Portuguese, her hair thick and brown, her skin an olive bronze.  She wore a stunning dark yellow gown, slit up her leg and down her neckline.  Her breasts moved freely under it.

Anjali saw where Mike looked, and saw his cock was hard again.  Her nipples stiffened under their silk cups.  She knew about Peri and their rivalry, but this wife was new to her, and she did not care for Mike’s reaction to her.  She took his arm, pressing her breast into it, to remind him she was there and took second to no woman.

The two couples met, shook hands, conversed cordially, about business, travel, life.  Both marriages were still fairly new, so it was a topic.  Augusta was sure to display her ring, with its bigger diamond.  She was equally careful to display her bigger breasts.  Anjali hated the bitch within minutes.

The evening wore on.  Drinks, then dinner.  The two couples were not seated together at a table, but they were not far apart, and the luck of their positions was such so that when either woman looked at her husband she had only to shift her eyes a fraction to see the other couple.  Anjali had perhaps a bit too much wine.  During dessert, she slid her hand under the napkin on Mike’s lap and unzipped him.  Her smile never changed, so when she brought her lips near his ear, the others at the table just smiled along at the sweet newlyweds who whispered sweet nothings to each other still.  Only Mike - and Augusta - could tell that she was stroking his cock.

“I saw that whore make you hard,” Anjali whispered.  “And not half an hour after fucking me!  Do you want to fuck her, Mike?”  She squeezed him hard.  “Fucking Peri’s wife - that would be an amazing way to top him, yes?”  She was closer to the truth than Mike was comfortable admitting.  He kissed her, softly.  “I only want you,” he told her.

Anjali briefly turned her hand to lift the napkin.  She showed his cock to Augusta, the thin strand of pre-cum across her dark fingers caught the light before the napkin fell back into place.

“Another way to top him,” Anjali purred in his ear, “would be for your wife to beat his wife in a catfight.”  Mike nearly came in her hand at that; she squeezed his cockhead to still him.  Anjali’s brutal fight with Meera before they were married had awakened the cat in her, and she knew the mere mention of a catfight drove him mad with desire.  This setting, this other couple, the long rivalry between the husbands, the instant heat between the wives . . . Anjali had to surreptitiously slide her own napkin under her skirt so that the wet spreading in her pussy didn’t soak the silk.  This, only Augusta saw.

Anjali stood, and walked past Augusta on her way to the ladies room.  The other brunette spoke to her table, and followed.  They were alone in the toilet.  Augusta clicked the lock on the inside of the door.  They each faced the mirror, side by side, to touch up lipstick.

“Peri told me you were the talk of his little hometown,”  Augusta said.  “Your primitive behavior, fighting an old woman.  His mother never challenged me.  I think she knew better.”

“That sounds like an excuse,” Anjali said.  “On your part.”

“What is your excuse for the way your husband eye-fucked my tits when he met me?” Augusta asked.  Anjali drew her breath in sharply.

“Our men hate each other, for good reasons - they have a history,” Anjali said. “You, I just met.”  She turned to Augusta, and slid her hand into the neckline of her dress, digging her nails into her breast.  “And yet I want nothing more tonight than to whip your fat ass, with our dear husbands watching.”

There was a rattle at the door, then a knock.

Augusta slapped Anjali’s bust, knocking her left nipple into her open neckline, and catching it between her thumb and fingers.

“I’m sure we can find a suitably private place,” she snarled. 

They held their grips, dark eyes locked, breathing hard.  The woman at the door knocked again.  After a moment, they left together, their faces revealing nothing.  Both Peri and Mike watched them walk back to their chairs, their stiff nipples obvious.  Augusta spoke into Peri’s ear; he nodded and left the table.

“What is going on?” Mike whispered. 

“He’s been sent to find a place,” Anjali said.  She sipped her wine.  It was excellent.

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Offline Wives Fighting

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Re: Rival Wives
« Reply #1 on: May 06, 2020, 11:03:15 AM »
Oh damn!! Yeah . That's now game, set and match!! Cant wait for more.
"Whenever women catfight men think it's going to turn to sex" - Yasmin Bleeth

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Offline bcw8

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Re: Rival Wives
« Reply #2 on: May 07, 2020, 08:58:32 AM »
The ten minutes before Peri returned seemed like an eternity.  He spoke again to Augusta, who nodded and rose.  Anjali rose too.  “Let’s go,” she said.

Peri had bribed a hotel staff member to open a room down a silent dark hall from the main ballroom.  It was a conference room, tables and chairs arranged in a U shape, three sides of a rectangle, open space in the center.  No windows, only one door, which Peri locked behind them.  The two wives slipped into the center.

“Terms,” Augusta said.

“No rules,” Anjali said contemptuously.  Augusta stared at her.  “Shut up, bitch,” she said.  Anjali clenched her fists.

“We fight with no rules, of course,”  Augusta continued.  “The husbands do not interfere, no matter what.  We fight until one of us is finished, unable to fight on, and the other tires of hurting her.  These are simply what a catfight with me is, bitch.”  She reached behind her, unzipped the short zipper from the scoop back of her dress to her ass, and shrugged off her gown.  Her heavy olive breasts swayed slightly, her brown nipples jutting.  Her belly was smooth and hard.  She wore a small white satin thong.

“The terms are the stakes that we fight for,” Augusta said.  “We wear our jewelry as we fight.  Mine is much more expensive, but I’m sure your cheap trinkets have meaning for you.  The winner takes the loser’s as trophies.”  She smiled.  “Your little stone in your wedding ring will make a nice stud for my belly button.”

Anjali unclasped her halter as she had for her husband at the start of the evening.  Her black nipples and hard slender body were a match for Augusta’s although her breasts were smaller.  “Your husband is looking at my pussy,” she said to Augusta.  “My terms:  fight me naked, except for your jewels and shoes.  I don’t want to waste time tearing off your whorish panties to get to your pussy with my claws.”  Augusta flushed with fury but quickly stepped out of her thong.

Anjali continued.  “And, I want to fight you because I hate you, easy to do, but also so that my husband can humiliate his rival.  When you are finished, limp and beaten, my man will fuck you in any hole he wants in your inferior body while your man watches.”

Augusta smiled.  “Perfect,” she said.  “I will strangle you and then watch Peri choke you with his cock rammed down your throat.  Perhaps I will play with Mike as his pathetic wife suffers -  give him a taste of what he missed by choosing a weak slut like you.”  She broke her gaze from Anjali and looked at Peri.  “Men - naked too.  We fight for your cocks, so display them for us!”

Anjali slipped her wedding ring off her left hand and onto her right, the middle finger rather than her ring finger.  Augusta saw, and did the same with a smile.  Two strides each and they were nose to nose.

Augusta’s palm whipped up into Anjali’s breast, a hard heavy slap that drove her tit up and into the center of her chest, then smoothly snatched her hard nipple between her thumb and fingers and used it to jerk her breast down.  Anjali was pulled forward, right into August’s fist slashing up into her face.  Her head whipped back, her pearls bouncing on her upper chest, and Augusta fingers closed on her throat.  She forced Anjali back, bent her across the table, still dragging her breast down by her nipple as she pushed straight down on her throat.  She rubbed her pussy up and down on Anjali’s stomach.

“So easy!” Augusta said.  She lifted her knee and planted it between Anjali’s breasts, slashing her nipple with her thumbnail with a final vicious tug and then wrapped both hands around her throat.  She tilted Anjali’s head back, cutting off all air and blood to her brain now, strangling her hard.  “Too easy!”  She released her, firing two savage punches into her tits, and flung her across the small space to the tables on the other side.  Anjali hit them belly first, and slid to her knees, her breasts resting on the table top.  Augusta jammed a knee into her back, jerked her head back, and punched down, smashing her tits against the wood, then turning her fist and grinding her big diamond into the root of Anjali’s nipple. 

Mike’s stomach was knotted.  Of course Peri would have chosen a vicious bitch to marry!  This cxnt was a sadist.  But even as Anjali shrieked in pain, he was rock-hard at the spectacle.  So was Peri, a confident grin on his face.  “Is she used to taking it up her ass, Mike?” he called across the room.  “Or will I be her first?  I suspect I will be - you don’t have the imagination to think beyond missionary position.”

“Fuck you, Peri,” Mike said.  “Come on, Anjali!”

“Isn’t that cute?”  Augusta said.  “The way he cheers for you?”  With both hands in Anjali’s black hair, she smashed her face into the table and then flung her on her back to the floor.  She took one silver bracelet, roughly jerking it off over Anjali’s hand, and tossed it to Peri.  He grinned and hung it on his erection.

August let Anjali get to her hands and knees before she kicked her, in the ribs.  Anjali moaned, and buckled, but didn’t collapse.  Her reward was a second kick, this one into her tits.  Then Augusta had her arm, wrenching it behind her back, pinning her wrist between her shoulder blades.  She ripped off one of Anjali’s hoop earrings - mercifully its post snapped off rather than her earlobe tearing through, but the intense pain of it still dragged a sob from Anjali.  “So many trinkets,” Augusta purred.  She reached under Anjali’s chest and sank her fingers deep into her dangling breast, crushing and twisting it.  “I wish I could tear these off as easily!”  It felt to Anjali like she was trying.

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Online cflover

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Re: Rival Wives
« Reply #3 on: May 07, 2020, 12:22:45 PM »
Like the way Augusta fight!

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Offline catftluver

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Re: Rival Wives
« Reply #4 on: May 07, 2020, 12:43:36 PM »
Wow, this is gonna be brutal!! Luv it....

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Offline SunnyB

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Re: Rival Wives
« Reply #5 on: May 07, 2020, 01:21:52 PM »
Mmm, vicious fight with kinky stakes at the end ...  ;D :D
Proudly butch and living as a 'man'. In this catfight fantasy there are no losers, and in the end all should be winners!

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Offline bcw8

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Re: Rival Wives
« Reply #6 on: May 08, 2020, 08:23:49 AM »

On her knees, bent forward, Anjali ached, with both pain and humiliation.  The Portuguese bitch was dominating her, trying to strip her of her jewels and her pride.  Ohhh fuck the way Augusta was twisting her breast - it was agony!  Augusta knew it, too.  “She’s thinking of losing,” the lighter brunette said to the men.  “She knows already she can’t beat me.”  She snatched Anjali’s other earring, and this time her earlobe did partly tear before the post broke.  Anjali’s shrieked as blood ran down her neck. 

Augusta still held Anjali’s wrist in the armlock.  She held the two earrings in her free hand, turning them, clenching them between her fingers, the sharp edges of the broken posts pointed up.  With a cruel smile, she slid that hand over the dark curve of Anjali’s ass. 

Anjali felt her body break out in sweat.  “Noooooooo,” she moaned.

“Yes,” Augusta said, and ground the earrings into Anjali’s pussy lips.  The Indian girl jerked and screamed but was helpless to do anything but endure it.  Augusta laughed, and tossed the broken hoops to Peri.  They were large enough to fit around his cock too.

Augusta released Anjali’s arm and pulled her to her feet, confident that she’d broken her already, thinking of what she’d do with Anjali’s pearls.  She didn’t even see the elbow that smashed her mouth.  Anjali was screaming again but now it was fury.  Augusta staggered as the dark girl came at her like a demon, slashing fists into her belly and breasts.  Her ass hit the edge of the table and Anjali’s knee drove deep into her guts, buckling her in half.  Anjali caught the back of her necklace, a thin chain holding a ruby pendant, to hold her head down as she punched up into it.  The force of her third blow broke the chain and Augusta’s nose. 

Anjali took the necklace to Mike as Augusta knelt as if it prayer, dazed, blood streaming from her nose.  She dipped her head and took his shaft in her mouth, all of it, and then turned to Peri.  “He has plenty of imagination,” she said.  “He makes me cum like you wouldn’t believe.  But you?  Do you really think this whore isn’t already cheating on you?”  Peri’s face darkened at the taunt.  She saw she’d hit a raw nerve of doubt.

Augusta lifted her head just in time to take Anjali’s knee to her temple, whipping her head around in a spray of hair, into the edge of the table top.  Anjali gripped Augusta’s breasts, thumbs driving down from the top, fingers hooking up from below, her generous tits bulging out of each side of the vise grip, and shook her.  “Are you cheating, bitch?”  Anjali said.  “How many cocks have been in you?  When Mike humiliates you, do I need to worry about the fucking diseases you have?”  Augusta tried to break Anjali’s grip, and couldn’t.  Anjali’s thumbs now punctured her tits, blood beading up around them, a first crimson trickle down the inside curve of one breast.

God, Anjali wanted to destroy Augusta’s smug European beauty.  She released her left tit and hit her in the face as she knelt, gratified by the way her diamond ring cut the bitch’s cheek.  She’d just drawn her fist back again when Augusta’s fingers stabbed into her pussy.  The lightning bolt of pain that shook her hips buckled both her grip on Augusta and her legs.  She dropped to her knees, face to face with her enemy, and she saw a flash of the rage in Augusta’s eyes before the headbutt landed.

Anjali was falling in blackness.  She opened her eyes, how long was she out?  Only a few seconds.  That quick relief died just as quickly.  Augusta flipped her on her stomach and scissored her in a pussy-to-pussy trib hold, dragging her torso up and wrapping an arm around her neck.  Anjali’s ass was tilted, her spine arched.  Augusta pumped into her.  Anjali gasped as her foe’s clit stabbed hers.  It both hurt horribly and sent a gush of her juices flowing.

“Ohhhhhh fuck!” Anjali moaned.  Her tits bounced and swayed as Augusta ground into her, rubbing, circling, then pounding again.  Her face pointed at the ceiling, she clenched her teeth.  Augusta’s clit kept stinging hers, intense pain inseparable from intense pleasure.  Oh god Mike had never found that precise spot at the base of it, Anjali hadn’t even known it existed, and now this bitch was drilling it, having seen the violent tremors it sent through her.

Both men watched, fascinated. From his angle, Mike could see the wetness gleaming on them.  His cock throbbed, desperate to be buried in either of their warring pussies.  That shamed him, as it was clear his wife was losing this skirmish.  He knew her sounds.  She was racing toward a flopsweat orgasm.  Her black nipples bulged.  Tears ran down her cheeks.  She had stopped breathing.

Augusta crowed in triumph as she drove Anjali headlong off the cliff, making her tight dark body convulse as she climaxed.  Did she stop?  No.  Like a boxer finishing a staggering opponent, or a queen bee stinging a rival to death, she pumped and thrusted.  Anjali wailed as her second orgasm hit her, a crashing wave, and fell limp as her third destroyed her, a ship wrecked on the rocks.

Augusta stood.  She was trembling herself.  Mike stared at the wet blotch on the carpet between Anjali’s thighs.   Augusta came to him, swinging her mahogany hair to her front as she went down on his cock.  He groaned to his core.  Her mouth was incredible.  She raised her head and squeezed his balls.  “As I said - just a taste, Mike.  You see what Peri has?  He has me.  You have the weak slut I just fucked into submission.  That was making her cum like you wouldn't believe!”  She turned back to Anjali, her perfect ass flashing.

Augusta spat on Anjali’s tits, blood and saliva, and dragged her up.  She caught her in a bearhug from behind, her forearms across the centerline of her breasts, so that they bulged above and below as she squeezed.  Her destination was Peri.  Anjali’s head lolled as she was presented.  He rubbed the head of his cock across her belly, leaving a thin thread of pre-cum glistening on her skin.

Augusta let him play until she felt Anjali regaining her faculties, strength returning to her rubbery legs enough to stand on her own.  Then she released her bearhug, turning Anjali to face her as she did.  She loved the dull pain she saw in Anjali’s eyes.  She lunged - she exploded - across the few feet between them, slamming her tits into Anjali’s.  Anjali flew back off her feet, crashing across the table to the outside of their makeshift ring.

“Patience, my love,” Augusta said to Peri.  She licked his cock to mollify him.  “You’ll get her.  When I’m finished.”

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Offline bcw8

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Re: Rival Wives
« Reply #7 on: May 09, 2020, 09:22:03 AM »
Augusta perched her ass on the table and lifted and swung her legs over, being sure to give Mike a good look at her smooth-shaven pussy as she did.  Compared to the damage she had done to Anjali with the earrings and her fingers and her fierce trib beatdown, her pussy was unscathed.  That changed quickly as she turned right into Anjali’s stiletto flashing up from the floor between her thighs.  It was a beautiful, cruel, vicious strike.  Augusta screamed like a soul in torment.  Anjali dropped her foot, and scissored her foe’s legs.  August pitched face first into the wall, and slid down it to her knees.

Anjali was on Augusta’s back in a flash, pushing her forearm hard across her neck, pinning her head and torso to the wall.  From her knees as well, she pistoned fists into Augusta’s lower back, pounding her crucial core muscles there, driving needles of pain into her kidneys.  Each punch slammed Augusta’s tits into the wall as well, dull crumping sounds.

Anjali rested, still grinding Augusta into the wall.  She took one earring, not bloodlessly, as Augusta shrieked.  The other was gone already, lost at some point in the melee.  Anjali took out her disappointment about that by jabbing the one she had into the squashed side of Augusta’s breast before throwing it toward Mike.  “Just your fucking ring left, bitch,” she snarled into Augusta’s bleeding ear.  “I’ll gladly break your finger to get it off.”  Having taken one headbutt already, she should have been on guard.  Augusta’s hair flew as she flung her skull back into Anjali’s face.  It was a glancing blow, but it was enough.

They both struggled to their feet.  Augusta had thought her brutal fuckdown of the Indian girl had left her weak and beaten, but the bitch was fighting as hard as ever.  This infuriated her for whatever irrational reason.  She now had not only to beat Anjali, she had to destroy her sexually.  She raised her hands, palms forward.  “Fight my tits,” she growled.  Anjali locked her fingers with Augusta’s and they slammed their chests together. 

They both had absorbed substantial tit punishment already.  Anjali had beautiful breasts, full and sensual.  But Augusta’s were better, nearly perfect, bigger - and harder.  She pounded Anjali, right, left, both together.  Anjali should have retreated, found a better way to fight, but her pride, and Augusta’s death grip on her hands, kept her there.

A fine spray of sweat burst off their skin with each collision.  Both sobbed, but Anjali’s sounds of pain were deeper, more desperate.  “I’m beating her, Peri,” Augusta gasped.  “Her tits are no match for mine.”  She slammed in hard and when she drew back, Anjali's head hung forward, her nipples soft and dribbling a milky fluid.  Mike closed his eyes.

“See that, Mike?”  Peri jabbed cruelly.  “My wife is destroying your little whore.”

Anjali’s tits were swelling, now nearly as big as Augusta’s, but battered and sagging.  Her legs gave out, just as Augusta hammered her again.  She fell back across the tables as Augusta released her hands.  Augusta leaned against the wall, cradling her own bruised tits.  The adrenaline of anticipated victory was charging through her, but she was in immense pain herself.

Anjali lay limp on the table, sobbing.  She felt a pain that she had never felt in her battle with Meera.  Not a physical hurt, but a deep wound in her courage.  She was no longer sure she was the better woman.  She was no longer sure she could win.  She was glad her hair obscured her face. She clenched her right hand, to protect her ring.
« Last Edit: May 09, 2020, 07:02:56 PM by bcw8 »

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Offline deity17313

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Re: Rival Wives
« Reply #8 on: May 09, 2020, 09:32:00 AM »
Nice
Ddot

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Offline bcw8

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Re: Rival Wives
« Reply #9 on: May 09, 2020, 08:20:48 PM »
Continuity error now fixed in the prior segment - I forgot Anjali had swtiched her ring to her right hand!  ;)

Augusta didn’t want Anjali to see it, or Mike, or even Peri, but she was barely able to stand.  She’d taken a savage beating herself, and even though she’d decisively won their titfight her weapons were badly bruised and ached to their core.  Taking a deep breath, she slid across the table to the inside again.  Anjali still lay where she’d fallen, her black hair sweeping across and off the edge of the table top.  She whimpered when Augusta gripped her breasts and dragged her off the table to fall to the floor at the Portuguese woman’s feet.

Augusta felt a surge of strength returning.  Anjali’s breasts had been hot to the touch, feverish and swelling.  Her grip had milked more fluid from her dark nipples.  Most of all, the bitch had not resisted her in the least.  Oh, this feeling!  The feeling of power that came from reducing another woman, a woman who had arrogantly thought herself Augusta’s equal, to a shivering, helpless shell - she felt closer to an orgasm than she had while trib-fucking the bitch.

Augusta stepped on Anjali’s chest, carefully centering the spike heel of her shoe on her nipple before putting her weight on it, while she pulled her hand up.  She savored the sound that Anjali made as her finger was pried up and her little ring taken, while her tit took a stiletto; it made her clit throb.  She released Anjali’s wrist, and slipped the ring onto her own hand, the ring finger on her right hand next to her own relocated diamond.  She held it up, and admired it.

“Take her, Peri,”  she said.  “I’m done now.”

“No,” said Mike.  Peri was halfway across the table, his face as hard as his cock.  They both looked at him.  “We agreed terms,”  Augusta said sharply.

“We agreed terms that the loser must be unable to fight on,”  Mike said.  He nodded at Anjali.  “She is still conscious.”  He prayed he was not making a mistake.

“You’re joking,” said Peri.  “She is finished.  August took her ring.”

“I’ll take it back,” said Anjali from the floor.  Her voice was low, but with grit in it.

A thrum of unease started in Augusta’s brain.  No way that this bitch should want to continue.  She turned.  Anjali was pulling herself up by the table.  August felt suddenly weak, a runner who thought she’d crossed the finish line to learn the race was not over.  Only for a moment, then her fury surged back.  She was a runner with a large lead.  She stepped forward and smashed her fist with two rings into Anjali’s face.  Mike closed his eyes again.

Anjali hit Augusta in return, a vicious back hand. 

Augusta hit Anjali in the eye, the diamonds cutting her.

Anjali drove her fist into Augusta’s breast, then another into her broken nose.

August hit Anjali in the tits, left and right

They stood there, trading blows.  One fell to her knees.  The other wavered, then fell too.  On their knees, they swung, bludgeoning each other still.  They collapsed together.  Anjali wailed in pain when Augusta’s tits ground into hers.

Then Anjali shot her arms under Augusta’s, brought her hands up to her neck from behind her shoulders, laced her fingers across her throat, and pushed her head back.

The men watched in stunned silence.  The hold ground their breasts even harder together, but Augusta’s arms hung useless.  Her hair swept down her back.  She couldn’t breathe.

“Hold on, Anjali!” Mike shouted suddenly.  Could she take the pain in her breasts until Augusta was choked unconscious?  He knew she could.  She bore in like a bulldog.  A minute ticked by.  Two.

Anjali let go with a shuddering sob.  Augusta’s limp body slumped to the floor.  Neither man moved.  Anjali opened Augusta’s hand, and took both rings.  She put them on her hand, held Augusta’s hair, and hit her in the face, over and over.  She ruined her beauty. 

Finally, Anjali stood.  It took her two attempts.  Peri started for Augusta, but Anjali stopped him with a savage glare.

“Give me my fucking jewelry,” she said.  “Your weak bitch belongs to Mike now, not you.  You get what’s left.”

When Augusta’s eyes fluttered open, she saw through the haze in her brain the two rings, as Anjali parted her pussy lips and shoved Augusta’s mouth against them.  “Lick me, whore,” Anjali said.  “Make me cum like you did before, and I’ll only make Mike spike your ass once.”

Augusta was used to Peri.  Mike was much thicker.  She swallowed her scream and obeyed her mistress.   Ah, no victory is sweeter than victory over a rival.
« Last Edit: May 09, 2020, 10:07:39 PM by bcw8 »

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Offline Wives Fighting

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Re: Rival Wives
« Reply #10 on: May 10, 2020, 10:32:16 PM »
Total humiliation , when it happens in fron of your man that just makes it more embarrassing. Wow !! Thank you again for this fine chapter involving the wives.
« Last Edit: May 10, 2020, 10:32:57 PM by Wives fighting »
"Whenever women catfight men think it's going to turn to sex" - Yasmin Bleeth

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Offline SunnyB

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Re: Rival Wives
« Reply #11 on: May 11, 2020, 12:03:52 PM »
Ooo, brilliant writing ... the twists & turns for sizzling hot!  :P ;D And was so thrilled that Anjali won in the end ... and that Augusta got humiliated!  :D ;) Perhaps for me the humiliation at the end could've been drawn out a bit more and described in more detail ... but still wonderfully HAWT story!  :-* :)
Proudly butch and living as a 'man'. In this catfight fantasy there are no losers, and in the end all should be winners!

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DoubleT2

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Re: Rival Wives
« Reply #12 on: June 04, 2020, 10:54:39 PM »
Our favorite writer!