News:

COMMERCIAL SITES: Please note - if WANT A BANNER LINK? displayed on this site, please contact FEMMEFIGHT

The Yacht

  • 5 Replies
  • 6009 Views
*

Offline bcw8

  • God Member
  • *****
  • 362
The Yacht
« on: May 11, 2020, 10:59:18 PM »
Thanks to Stephy for lending herself to this story! (https://www.freecatfights.com/forums/index.php?action=profile;u=60211)  Her opponent is a character of my creation.

Stephy
{alt}

Lia
{alt}

Stephy locked the gym at 10 pm.  She was tired, but she wanted a drink more than she wanted to go straight home.  There was a bar on the way that she knew, a fairly quiet place.  She sat with her cocktail, letting the day unwind, rolling her neck a little to take the tension from it and her shoulders.  The motion swept her hair across her back.  There weren’t many people there, but they all watched her, secretly or openly.
 
The door opened and a man walked in, well-dressed, in his forties.  He came directly to Stephy at the bar, as if he knew she’d be there, and knew her personally.  She tensed hard, but his demeanor was even, his face calm.  She relaxed a bit; he didn’t seem to be a threat. With her striking height and looks, it was hard to have a quiet drink at times.  He stopped next to her, put a fifty on the bar and told the bartender it was for her drink.  He also put a card next to her hand.
 
“This is for you, Stephy,” he said.  “Watch it all.  You’ll be glad you did.”  He turned and left before she could ask how he knew her name.
 
*************
 
The time on set between shooting was tedious for Lia.  She was one model in a group, the tall blondes, and she was sick of the others.  So she found a place to sit, and wait, until the photographer’s assistant called her again.  She didn’t notice the man until he stopped, next to her.  She didn’t recognize him, so she tried to ignore him.  When you are long and exotic and blonde, men are pests at times.  He held out a card.
 
“What is this?” Lia asked, but she took it.
 
“Watch it all,” he said.
 
“Watch what?” she was getting annoyed.  The card had a web address, a username - her name! - and a password.  “What is this?” she asked again.
 
“Opportunity,” he said, and walked away.
 
********************************************************************************
 
“Next pair,” said the woman at the head of the table.  There were three of them, in a conference room in New York.
 
“A Russian and an Australian,” said the man on her left.  He clicked his keyboard and their images appeared on the flat screen on the wall.  Lia and Stephy.  Data was in the files; he didn’t need to repeat it.  Both twenty-six years old.  Stephy was 6’0”, 140 pounds.  Lia was 5’11”, 135 pounds.
 
The woman studied the photos.  “Background?” she asked.
 
“Excellent,” he said.  “Egos off the charts, frankly.  Good histories.  The Aussie runs a gym.  Pole fitness, they call it.  Exercise sexy for the Melbourne football mums.  Has done some modelling.  The Russian is a model, living in Vienna now.  Lingerie ads, catalog modelling mostly.”
 
The woman looked at him.  Get to the point, he got it.
 
“Both have a record of violence.  Most recently:  Stephy - the brunette - visited one of her clients a month ago, over unpaid membership fees.  Not a housewife.  This woman might have been a candidate for us herself, but after Stephy she spent a weekend in the hospital and two of her fingers are broken.  Lia - the blonde - was up for a gig last spring.  So was another girl.  An ex-model now.”  He checked his files; he liked to be precise.  “Ten stitches in her face.”
 
“Their reactions?”
 
“They both logged on the same day.  Watched to the end.  Five more log-ons since for Stephy, Lia has six.  Multiple pauses in the action sequences.”  He smiled.  “Both logged on at two a.m.-ish local times to watch again.  Sleepless.”
 
“Yes or No.”
 
“Two Yeses.  Orientation visits already scheduled.”
 
“Good,” she said. “He’s gonna ask - which one has the bigger tits?”  It was in the file, but he answered anyway.  “The brunette, but it’s close.”
 
She nodded.  “He’ll like that.”
 
The yacht was anchored at Monaco.  The owners, husband and wife, loved many ports, but this, and the Mediterranean, was their favorite.  It was a gorgeous afternoon.  The yacht was 150 feet, the kind of opulence that even in Monaco made the dock-walkers crane their necks to see and wonder who owned it.  On a boat like that, dress is never completely casual.  The owners strolled the foredeck, he in a linen shirt and smart slacks and she in an elegant sundress.  At 5’10”, she was the taller of the two by an inch; her heels added to that.  He didn’t mind.  Fifteen billion dollars meant having the women you wanted.
 
Four other couples joined them, mingling and sipping champagne, as the yacht slowly left the harbor.  Several crew members lined the rail of the upper deck, carefully positioned between two men.  On the outside ends of this line stood two women.  Stephy and Lia.  The wind caught their casually expensive dresses, wardrobe provided for them in their hotel suites.  There were no introductions.  Their handlers did not allow them within twenty feet of each other.  But it was clear they were meant to see each other.  It was not just the ocean breeze that stiffened their nipples.
 
They watched, in silence, once the boat reached its destination off-shore, in deep international waters.  There was nothing but the Mediterranean in any direction to the horizon.  When the throbbing engines stopped, the group below gathered in a line along the port rail.
 
Two women appeared, one from a cabin on the port side, the other from a starboard cabin.  A blonde and a brunette.  Strikingly tall.  Spike heels that lengthened long legs even more.  The blonde wore a royal blue bikini; the brunette wore red.  They met in the center of the foredeck, their shadows short as the noon sun beat down.  From the upper deck, the breeze carried some sounds away, but they heard the husband clearly.  “Fight,” he said.
 
It lasted nearly thirty minutes.  Neither Stephy or Lia looked away, not even once.  Their hands gripped the rail in front of them; at times, very tightly.  The five couples watching up close engaged in an orgy, various kinds of fucking in parallel to the intense violence, as the two women viciously fought in front of them.  Between the owners, the husband pulled his cock from his kneeling wife’s mouth, her $800 sundress bunched down around her waist, and came in thick ropes of semen on her bared breasts, at the moment that the blonde’s fist came down in the brunette’s pulped face for the final time.  The owners each raised one of her hands in triumph.  She and the wife could have been related, just twenty years apart - one with cum on her tits, the other with blood.
 
Their handlers took Stephy and Lia to separate cabins as a crew member hosed blood off the polished deck.  In the two hours back to port, they each masturbated to multiple orgasms, each with the other’s face and body conjured in her mind’s eye.
 
The yacht would sail again in forty-eight hours.  Then, they would be the featured attraction, not spectators.  One hundred thousand dollars.  Winner takes all.

They each had two days to kill in Monaco, all expenses paid.  Their handlers shadowed them, at a distance, in constant contact just to avoid a chance meeting.  Two days more to think about it.  Until the yacht left the dock, either woman could change her mind.

That possibility was never seriously considered by either of them.  There was the money, of course, but it was icing, the cherry atop the sundae.  Even the owners knew that.  They didn’t seek women to do this solely for money.

It was a simple fact.  Stephy and Lia liked to fight.

Stephy had fought most of her life.  She’d grown up in the rough part of Melbourne, not much money.  Her first real fight had been in school, when she caught a bitch stealing from her bag.  Even then she was tall, bigger than most girls.  Once marked as a fighter, she was challenged.  At eighteen, a dark Aboriginal girl with tattoos had called her out and beaten the fuck out of her in the street.  Stephy waited for her turn; in a dance club a month later, she had her revenge.  Now at twenty-six, her violent streak was a hidden part of her life.  They knew, somehow, these people, about the client she’d beaten up.  They didn’t know - or at least hadn't told her they knew - that she’d fought three times in the last two years in an underground circuit in an abandoned car park; vicious wrapped hands fistfights.  It was like a drug now for her, the challenge, the violence, the thrill of it.

Lia was born in St. Petersburg.  She primarily saw other women just as nothing more than competition, ways to prove to anyone watching that she was better than they were.  Her mother had taken her to America, to LA, when she was thirteen, made her practice her English until it was flawless.  She’d moved to Paris at nineteen and in less than a month before she fought another aspiring model in an empty pool in a film producer’s backyard, with his friends ringing the edge.  Anything to get ahead; she was on her way up, she had no doubt.  This fight - these billionaires - could open doors for her.  Only that brunette bitch stood in her way.  She’d cut her down, like she had all the others, and she’d enjoy doing it.  Powerful people understood that:  hurting someone to get ahead yourself, taking pleasure from someone else’s pain - it was just how it was done.

The day was bright and hot.  They were aboard, and in their cabins, well before departure.  Their wardrobes were set for them: revealing one-piece suits; Stephy’s was black, barely more than high-waisted panties and narrow strips up over her breasts to the halter clasp at the back of her neck.  Lia’s was white, a neckline unzipped, opened to well below her breasts.  Professionals spent much of the time en route to the fight zone on their hair, and make-up.  They would be the height of glamour when they walked out.

Thirty minutes to go.

Their handlers visited.  There were the owners plus five couples today.  The arrangement was reviewed, a final time.

There were no rules to the fight.  Anything was allowed.

They would fight to the finish.  No submissions.  No mercy.  One woman left standing.  One woman left destroyed and unconscious.

Were they ready?  Yes.

For Lia, it was about the edge.  She deliberately waited until now to make her request.  Her handler checked with the owners, then with Stephy’s handler, who spoke to Stephy.  Lia knew she had to agree, or be marked as a coward, before they even started.  The answers came back.  Yes.  Plus, an extra message from Stephy.  I’ll make sure it’s dry as a bone before I ram it in your ass.  Lia smiled and took the outsized strap-on from her bag with her, when the knock came at her cabin door.

The walk from the cabins on either side to the foredeck at the bow was short.  There was no wind.  Even though they were miles offshore, it was hot.  Despite the hugeness of the yacht, the open space on the deck was not large, a rough semi-circle about twenty feet across.  The polished wood of the decking gleamed.

Lia detoured to the owners, and handed the strap-on to the wife, while she looked only at the husband.  “Maybe you would like me to use it on her, too, after I whip this bitch?” Lia said with sex in her voice.  The husband laughed; the wife didn’t.  The edge; she’d made herself memorable to the husband.  She’d also made an enemy of the wife.

Lia turned to Stephy.  At 5’11”, she’d never fought a woman taller than her before.  It was a little disorienting.  Stephy saw it.  “Can’t punch down today, can you, cxnt?” she said.  “I know your type.  You fight girls smaller and weaker than you, and think you’re big.”

“Fuck you, bitch,” Lia started, but the owner interrupted.  “Enough talk.”  He raised his hand.  Champagne glasses hovered without being tasted, as all the spectators waited for a different treat.  His hand chopped down.

Stephy’s fist chopped into Lia’s ribs.  The Aussie was slender but hard-muscled, and she knew where it hurt to hit.  That punch hurt, a lot, but Lia didn’t let it show.  She didn’t want to fistfight the brunette, not then anyway.  She was an expert in fighting in stilettos.  Her foot flashed and cut across the outside of Stephy’s left leg.

“Come at me, bitch,” Lia said.  “I will cut you to pieces.  Next one in the center of your thigh.”

Rather than answer, Stephy did exactly that, with her heel.  Lia’s long leg buckled under her.  Stephy lunged forward as she tottered and whipped her fist into her breast.  Lia hit the deck, hard.  The wife smiled, and sipped her champagne approvingly.

“Fucking cxnt,” Stephy said.  “You’re all mouth, aren’t you, bitch?”  She went to her knees behind the blonde, and pulled her up to a sitting position.  She planted her knee between Lia’s shoulder blades and wrenched her right arm back, and at the same time she dug her left breast out of her low cut suit, sank her nails into its underside, and dragged it in the opposite direction.  Lia’s head went back in pain, her hair flowing across Stephy’s thigh.  Stephy pulled her two holds an inch more.  Lia’s suit was stretched tight across her right breast, digging into her nipple.

Stephy hands were strong - pole dancing requires grip strength, especially to support a woman her size eight feet off the floor.  She poured on her claw into the bottom half of Lia’s breast, crushing her.  Lia shrieked.  Her suit neckline dragged the final fraction across her right nipple and it sprang up erect as her back arched more.  She hadn’t expected this aggression, this kind of power, from the Australian girl.

“Both your tits want to play?”  Stephy said.  She released Lia’s arm, grabbed her stiff pick nipple, and ripped it outward.  She ground her knee into the blonde’s spine and dragged her tits as far to her ribs as she could.  Lia felt connective tissue straining to the tearing point in her chest, felt like the brunette was pulling her fucking nipple off.  But her hands were free now.  She gripped the long spike heel of the leg planted in her back and twisted it out and up.

Stephy lost her foothold, then her balance.  The blonde pivoted, grabbed her foot at the toes too, and wrenched her ankle, using that long heel as a lever.  Stephy had to go face down on the deck to save her joint from real damage.  Lia folded the brunette’s long leg up to her ass, and jerked her head back by her hair.

“This is me straddling your fat ass,” Lia said.  “I willl do it again later when I stuff that big cock up you, bitch.”  She pulled Stephy’s head back more, forcing her to face the noon Mediterranean sun, and repaid her breast mauling.  The blonde’s nails were honed to knife points, and she cut Stephy’s jutting nipples with them, switching hands in her hair to get to both.  “Want to quit?” she taunted, as Stephy screamed in pain.

The six couples watching - six cocks were out, raging hard; six pussies were dripping wet.  Stephy’s scream triggered one wife to orgasm, her husband’s hand up her Jovani cocktail dress.  She pulled his fingers to her mouth and sucked them, then went to her knees to suck his cock.

Lia attacked Stephy’s ass with her nails next, then under her suit to claw her smooth-shaven pussy.  Stephy wailed.  “Big tough girl,” Lia crowed.  “You cry like a two-year-old!”  She drove three fingers deep into the brunette.  But even as she tortured her, she shifted too far.  Stephy twisted, got the heel of her free leg into Lia’s thigh, slashed down.  There were two experts with stilettos in this fight.

Lia broke away and to her feet, limping.  She was next to the husband, his wife crouched with his cock in her mouth.  Lia slid her fingers, wet from Stephy’s pussy, into his mouth as the wife glared up at her.  “One fight at a time,” Lia said to her, and turned back to Stephy.  The husband groaned as his lovely wife angrily took him to the root into her throat.

Stephy brought the fistfight to Lia.  They went toe-to-toe, all offense and no defense.  Hard knuckles pounded beautiful faces, beat swaying breasts flat, hammered hard abs.  It was a brutal slow dance.  One of the watching men, his wife stroking his cock, spurted cum across the deck at the sound Lia made when Stephy’s fist drove into her guts.  The sound nearly made Stephy cum too.  She hit the blonde twice now for every one blow she took.  Lia gave ground, her hair whipping side to side as Stephy lashed shots to her face.  Her tits, pinned together inside her halter neckline, were prime targets too.  She swung wildly at the brunette, but Stephy went under it and drove her back, short digging steps, into the ship’s rail.

Stephy shoved Lia’s arms back and over the rail.  She jerked hard on her suit, snapping the clasp at the back of her neck.  Lia’s breasts spilled free as Stephy pulled her suit down to her hips, and the Aussie went to work, driving vicious, twisting fists into them.  The wife wiped his cum from her lips and urged Stephy on.  “Pop the bitch’s tits!” she shouted.  She knew her husband’s preference for the brunettes - his way of prodding her - but this blonde was too much like her at that age.

Then Lia screamed and lunged off the rail with a savage headbutt, her forehead smashing Stephy’s nose and mouth.  The Russina girl fell to her knees, dazed herself by the impact of her sudden attack, but the brunette was much worse.  She staggered back a step and crashed hard on her back, blood bubbling from her nostrils.

Ah, these two were special, the husband thought.  He had arranged over a thousand fights between tall women.  Many didn’t live up to expectations, unfortunately.  The standard was high, admittedly; set by his wife twenty years ago when she was just a girl of twenty-three; a brutal war with a statuesque black girl in a Vegas hotel suite, two call girls he paid to fight for him.  Still, even the disappointing  fights were entertaining.  And these two - spectacular!  Perfect strangers who in the space of two days had manufactured so much hate for each other tthat it boiled off them in the Mediterranean sun.  The profiling that his people did now was excellent.  They found girls who burned to win, girls who liked to inflict pain to prove they were better, girls willing to take pain as the price of it - like these two diamonds.
 
Lia’s head cleared first.  She knee-walked the few feet to Stephy, who was still prone and dazed.  She gripped the brunette’s nose between the fingers of her fist and twisted as she pushed down.  Stephy screamed, a choked wet shriek, her back arching. Lia cut it off with a vicious chop of the knife-edge of her hand into her throat.  She ripped the neck clasp of Stephy’s black suit, and peeled it off of her long body, leaving her naked but for her shoes.  She stood, and with careful precision, stomped the Aussie girl’s tits, driving her spike heels into her.
 
“Your payback, slut,” Lia said.  The blood on the bitch’s face and tits was so sweet.  Stephy sobbed in pain.  Lia strutted around her.  Her suit pulled down around her waist was only in the way now. She gyrated her hips as she peeled it down, a show for the admiring watchers.  Now as naked as her opponent, she kicked Stephy’s legs apart and drove the hard toe of her shoe into her spread pussy.
 
Stephy screamed, but she also caught Lia’s foot.  Desperately, she wrenched it, at the same time sweeping the blonde’s planted leg.  Lia fell, in a deep split.  She screamed too as something in her hip exploded in pain.  Stephy’s long leg whipped around, her shoe smashing into Lia’s mouth, bursting her lower lip.  For a long minute, they both lay stretched on the deck, broiling in the sun, soaked in sweat and increasingly in blood.  Stephy pushed up first, crawling to her blonde foe.
 
“You want to talk about payback?” she gasped.  “You’ve been at my pussy twice now, you whore.”  She punched Lia between her open thighs.  Again.  Again.  Then she shoved three fingers deep into her, carefully found her clit with her thumbnail, squeezed, and lifted.  Lia’s hips came up off the deck as she screamed in agony.  Stephy’s bicep bulged as she lifted higher.  Lia’s palms slapped the deck as she writhed, her hair across her face.  Stephy dropped her, knelt on one of her thighs and spread her again, pushing her other leg up to her face, an over-extended high kick while flat on her back.  The thing in Lia’s hip was a stabbing knife of agony now.  Stephy carved her clit again.  “I could do your ass, too, bitch,” she snarled.  “But I’m saving that for the end.”  Satisfied at last with the damage, she stood and kicked Lia a final time.
 
“Get up, bitch, if you can,”  Stephy said.  “I want to finish you on our feet.”
 
It was a calculated risk.  But it wasn’t just about winning.  It was about proving who was better.  Stephy wanted to knock her down as many times as it took, until she couldn’t get up again.
 
It took Lia nearly a minute to get to her feet.  Stephy immediately gutted her with a fist in her belly, collapsing her back to her knees, a gout of blood from her mouth spraying as she went down.
 
Lia rose again.  Stephy lashed her fist backhanded across her face, twisting her at the waist, her blonde hair whipping as she fell, hard.  Stephy grinned a bloody grin, and spat on Lia’s tits.  “How many times can you get up, you think?”  she taunted.
 
“Just finish her!” shouted the wife.  Stephy turned her head to look at her, her angry face.  Then her knee went out as Lia’s foot smashed into it.

Two long bodies stretched out on the polished deck.  Lia crawled to Stephy, lifted the brunette’s injured leg, and slammed it down on the deck.  Stephy screamed but drew up her other foot and kicked the blonde in her chest, her heel stabbing into the side of her breast.  Lia threw herself on top of Stephy, who shifted just enough to use her momentum to push her past.  Side by side, their long hair spread wildly around them, they locked their legs together and clawed each other.  Lia’s left hand crushed Stephy’s right breast, pushing it into her armpit.  Stephy’s right hand twisted Lia’s left breast, dragging it down.  Stalemate.

Who could take the most pain?  They both screamed.  Both sobbed.  Both bled.  Minutes ticked away.

Stephy turned her grip.  Her hand and arm were cramping, agonizing pain almost as bad as the constant torment Lia was inflicting on her.  She squeezed again, and watched the pain in Lia’s eyes shift too.  She’d found something.  Something deep in the Russian’s breast, and it hurt her worse than anything she suffered before.  That realization gave Stephy strength to crush harder.  Lia closed her eyes, but before she did Stephy saw something new in them: fear.  Not fear of her, or even of more pain; fear of losing.  Fear of not being the best.

Stephy took her back to the rail.  Lia was still conscious, but she was clinging to it by her fingertips.  She had nothing left.  She hung like a rag doll as Stephy beat her body, heavy fists in her ribs and stomach and tits.  Her head lolled and Stephy could have knocked her out with a single headshot, but Stephy had a single-minded goal:  destroy her body until she fainted from pain.  It was brutal, and beautiful.  Stephy knew when it happened; something left the blonde, the feeling of her fists in her body changed.  Stephy stepped back, and let Lia slide unconscious to the deck.  Stephy raised her arms, and fell to her knees in exhaustion.

The wife let her champion rest for a minute, then handed her her prize.  While she put it on, the wife lifted Lia’s head and upper body with two hands in her hair.  Of the men in the circle, those with cum still to spend, spent it on Lia’s displayed tits.  Stephy completed this ultimate humiliation with a final savage attack.  She rammed Lia’s toy up her ass, thrusting it, her own hips and ass pumping as she brutally fucked the beaten bitch until the base of the hard rubber cock against her own clit made her cum.  She simply unstrapped and left it in the blonde as she posed over her, soaking up the applause of her audience.

The two girls on the upper deck watched, too.  Watched and learned.

*

Offline Dude64

  • God Member
  • *****
  • 171
Re: The Yacht
« Reply #1 on: May 12, 2020, 06:40:12 PM »
Where did you come from! Excellent. Love your work!

*

Offline SunnyB

  • God Member
  • *****
  • 843
  • Looking for some naughty cyber fun with women ...
Re: The Yacht
« Reply #2 on: May 13, 2020, 01:00:13 PM »
Wow, this story blew me away ... absolutely had the shudders with Lia getting fucked with her own strap-on cock! Yummy! :P :D ;)
Proudly butch and living as a 'man'. In this catfight fantasy there are no losers, and in the end all should be winners!

*

Offline Keith Stat

  • God Member
  • *****
  • 172
Re: The Yacht
« Reply #3 on: May 21, 2020, 01:05:02 AM »
Just gotta add my praise as well. Wow! So happy there's someone like you making these stories that are such high quality.

Also, I'm always a sucker for the scenario of sexy girls fighting in front of an audience in some shady underground fighting society and you routinely nail that.

Thanks for the stories!

*

Mandarin

  • Guest
Re: The Yacht
« Reply #4 on: April 13, 2021, 06:34:40 PM »
WOW   Can you write a story!!! 

*

Offline Donnafights

  • Full Member
  • ***
  • 29
Re: The Yacht
« Reply #5 on: April 17, 2021, 07:39:21 PM »
I had to read this story three times! This very new and fresh! I hope you make this a series!