[bcw8]

ANKA



JAMIE




Jamie heard the click of the pistol first.  Then the light switch.  She raised her hands, slowly, before she turned.

******************************************************************************************************************************************************

It had been a long, long play.  In the movies, espionage happened at lightning speed.  Not in the real world.  Jamie Bond had spent a year of her life worming her way into Vasily Inchenko’s life.  Russian oligarchs are very cautious, especially ones with Putin’s direct number in their contacts, under a different name, of course.

Jamie had put herself on the fringes of Inchenko’s lavish life in London.  Her beauty was the bait, but it had to be his idea to take it.  There was always the chance he wouldn’t, of course.  But Jamie was among the best, and her bait was very, very enticing.  After months of a slow spiral ever closer to each other, she and Vasily had become lovers.  And once lovers, no man could resist Jamie Bond.

There was a persistent fly in this particular ointment, however:  Anka Inchenko.

At first, it wasn’t anything specific to Jamie.  Vasily’s younger sister was pure bitch.  Anka hated all other women.  But as Jamie watched, she realized that in this particular family dynamic, trying to win over Anka wasn’t the way forward; just the opposite.  Vasily liked it when she would spite his sister rather than suck up to her.  The night the two women nearly came to blows in a Soho nightclub, he had fucked Jamie like an animal.  So Jamie walked the wire of simmering tension with Anka, slipping more and more close to Vasily.

So close, in time, that he had invited her to accompany him to this particular soiree.  The house was a stone’s throw from Kensington Palace, a mansion built at the height of the British Empire but passing over time to the new money; first a Saudi prince and now an oligarch comrade of Vasily’s.  One who, shall we say, did business.

The Russian ambassador made an appearance, but only a brief one.  Things were happening there that night that made it best for those with official positions to be safely home in bed early.  And that would turn out to be even so much more than he knew.

Jamie was gorgeous in black, a gown that cost MI6 five thousand pounds.  Her jewelry was twice that.  Her lingerie alone was three hundred.  No male security force was stopping her; it was simple to convince the one who needed convincing that a surreptitious blow job upstairs was the erotic dream of a British socialite.

She was so close to the objective, the documents in the host’s safe.  At least, she thought as she turned, it wasn’t the same guard.  She’d left him very convinced indeed.  This new one kept the pistol solidly against her spine in the plunging back of her dress.  Vasily and the host were called away from the party to the next room.  Anka invited herself along.

The guard was good.  Who knows, maybe he even would have said no to Jamie’s inviting mouth.  He only took a few sentences.  When he finished, Anka slapped her, furious.

“English bitch!” she said.  “I knew she was trouble!”

Jamie slapped her back.  “Fuck you, Anka,” she said.  When trapped, create chaos. 

The host sighed.  Vasily’s face, though, changed just a bit.

“Take her out of the city and kill her,” the host said.  “Somewhere her body won’t be found.”  He turned to leave.

“No,” said Anka.  Her eyes were icy.  “This - her - fucking you, you idiot - it is an insult that must be answered.”

Vasily’s eyes shifted to his sister.  “Meaning what?” he said.

“Meaning no bullet,” she said.  “Meaning her body is definitely found.  As a message.”

The host paused at the door.

“My sister,” said Vasily to him, “has certain skills . . . and proclivities.”

Jamie knew.  He’d told her, in bed.  It excited him.  Truth told, it had excited her, too.

Anka stepped to her.  Face to face.  Their breasts pushed together.

“We go back to the party,” Anka said, speaking to Jamie and Jamie alone.  “And I will kill you with my bare hands while the guests watch.  What do you say to that, English bitch?

Jamie held her hate-filled gaze.  “Vasily,” she said.  “What if I kill her?” 

He spread his hands.  “You did not get what you came here to steal.  You know things, but not such dangerous things to me.  And so I think - it’s fair - if you kill her, you go.  No bullet in the back, I promise.”  Coolly businesslike, but his erection was obvious.  Quite the brother-sister relationship.

Jamie nodded, still gaze-locked with Anka.  It was the best opening she would get.  “Let’s fight, cyka,” she said.

The host raised his eyebrows, and opened the door.

[deity17313]

what a start, and finally a fatal catfight. Wonder if theres anything going on between anka and her brother lol.

[zendeathfight]

Hope to see the next part soon

[snw]

Jamie is  super hot. Love this set up.

[Rocko23]

Amazing start. Whichever way it goes do keep it hand to hand. Will hopefully be an amazing battle - even rougher than your regular ones.

[bcw8]

Anka strode straight to the center of the ballroom, her heels clicking, drawing looks from some party goers as she brushed past.  By the time she stopped and shrugged her Valentino gown to the floor, all eyes had turned to her.  She removed her earrings and bracelets, dropped them on the dress puddled on the floor, and swept it all aside with a flick on her leg.  Her lingerie was underlying black filled with creme lace detail, a matching garter belt connected to sheer black stockings.   Those there who knew her were well-aware of her wild side - what was this?

Jamie followed.  When she peeled out of her gown, her black lace lingerie sculpted her lithe body.  Her legs were bare.  She took off her diamond necklace reluctantly, but she didn’t want it’s hard edges used against her.  The crowd was buzzing now, louder each second until Vasily clapped his hands.

“We have just learned that Ms. Bond is not who we thought,” he said.  “She is dangerous to us.”  He walked toward the two women.  “Anka sees this as . . . personal,” he added.  “She has demanded this.”  Some, who knew Anka best, already understood, their eyes wide.

“They will fight.” Vasily said.  “Woman to woman, until one is dead.  If you do not wish to see this, leave now.”  Very few did.  Those who remained moved to the periphery of the room.  Tuxedoed men and lavishly gowned women, but all animals at their core.

“I will not be quick,” Anka said to Jamie.  “I want you to suffer.  Your begging will be sweet to hear.”

Jamie smiled.  “I’ve killed many people,” she said.  “You, I’ll enjoy.”

Their hands met; their fingers locked.  It began with a test of strength.  The lean muscles in their arms corded, their backs and chests flexed.  They were well-matched.  The strain of stalemate quickly crept into their faces.

Anka shifted suddenly, and thrust her chest into Jamie.  The brunette gasped at the blow to her breasts.  Her left nipple was exposed, dark and brown, a small oval tipped with a jutting stiff nub.  Anka spit on it.  “I will take your nipples as trophies,” she said. “I have an earring box full of them.”  A woman among the spectators gasped.  Jamie’s arms trembled, then steadied.  She spit in Anya’s face and as it ran down her cheek she punched her chest back into Anya, jarring her hard.  “Every man in this room thinks my tits are better than yours,” she said.  The woman who gasped thought so as well, but she remained silent. 

They crushed together, snarling, all arms trembling now.  Their bras snagged, caught, were pulled aside as they ground their breasts together.  Anya’s nipples were lighter, nearly pink, but otherwise were nearly identical to the Brit’s.  They were hard as the diamonds they’d discarded, stabbing and slashing before disappeared together in the crush of flesh, still waging a private war.

Jamie slipped an inch, then held. 

“First on your knees,” Anya gasped.  “You know it there, you cocksucking whore.  Later you crawl.” 

Jamie slipped another inch.  Anya’s nipples dragged hers up as she sank, like the heel of a hand under a chin.  Jamie’s arms were cramping.  Her wrists were on fire.  Sweat trickled down her stomach.

“Kneel, cxnt!”

Jamie’s legs buckled.  Anya tried her best to snap her wrists.  Jamie smothered a scream to a harsh sob.  Her knees hit the floor, and she bent forward like a supplicant from the pain.  Anya kicked her in the breast, the hard point of her toe stabbing deep.  There was no way to hold that scream.  Anka released one hand, and twisted the arm she still held.  As gracefully as a dancer, she pivoted and placed her knee on the back of Jamie’s shoulder, and drove it violently into the floor.

Jamie’s head hit hard too, but that was nothing to the agony of the lightning bolt in her shoulder.  Anya’s knee was still on it, and she still locked the hand at the end of that arm.  She gripped Jamie’s hair with her free hand, and pulled up on her head and hand at the same time.  Jamie’s elbow hyperextended, another brutal bolt of pain.  Her scream was interrupted when Anya smashed her face down into the polished hardwood.

Then the weight of the Russian was gone.  Jamie slowly stood.  Her left arm hung, limp with pain.  Anya smirked at her.  She took off her bra and tossed it aside, her nipples thick. 

“We see who has better tits, yes?” she said to Jamie.  “As I said.  Slow.  Suffer.”

[deniseBeresford]

Stunning! I just hope Jamie has something more in store for Anka... with all her training and experience, it would be SO humiliating to get dominated and killed  by a blonde Russian bitch just like this.

[Rocko23]

Wonderful start! Really hope Anka wins - the fact that its fatal makes it even more exciting then normal. A brilliant test of strength as well and very hot.

[bcw8]

Jamie’s arm hurt like hell.  She tested it, gingerly.  Nothing broken, nothing torn.  Just pain.  She could fight through that.  But she played the decoy, turning her face into a mask of panic.  She stepped back, looking around wildly.  A perfect feint of a frightened deer looking for an opening to flee.  Anka lunged forward.  Jamie planted and met her head on.  The fist at the end of her good arm smashed the ice blonde’s lips against her perfect teeth.  A snap kick into Anka’s abs, Jamie’s heel spearing her belly button, drove her staggering back.

It was a quick advantage, but Jamie knew Anka wouldn’t underestimate her again.  She swung again, a hard right hook.  Anka slipped it. She drove her fist into the front of Jamie’s damaged shoulder.  Jamie didn’t fake that sob of pain. 

“Slow,” Anka said again through clenched teeth.  “Your arm is not dead yet.  But it will be.  Do you think you can beat me with one arm?”

“I’ll fucking kick you to death if I have to, bitch,” Jamie said.  She punctuated that with a whipping kick into Anka’s thigh.  Anka screamed but caught her ankle and charged into her, slamming her to the floor again.

The Russian knew how to fight.  Jamie’s slim hope of a training advantage had flown with that shoulder shot.  And Anka was naturally fearless and a complete fucking vicious cxnt.  She rolled, trying to pitch the blonde off, trying to create space, but Anka grapevined her leg, and drove elbow strikes down into Jamie’s cheekbone, banging her head on the floor with each one.  Fuck.  Good thing she isn’t trying to kill me quickly, Jamie thought.

Not that it was all scientific.  Jamie screamed as Anka’s nails raked her bared tits, slashing her nipple.  Then the blonde was on her feet, both hands gripping Jamie’s bra, shaking her like a jaguar would shake its prey.  On her knees, Jamie’s hair and tits whipped back and forth, until the back clasp of the bra ripped apart and Anka tore it off her.  The Russian viciously kicked her, with more luck than skill, in the same breast as before.

“Maybe I kick you to death,” Anka said.  “Why don’t you brag of your tits some more, English whore?  Tell me how my brother likes to fuck his cock between them?”

Hello.  And her english was deteriorating.  Feed her rage.  Make her lose control.

“All the time,”  Jamie gasped.  “Constantly.  He told me over and over I was the best - better than any Russian cxnt.”

So much for slow.  Anka aimed a savage kick at Jamie’s face, her stiletto flashing.  Jamie jerked aside and the heel slashed her cheek rather than stab through her eye.  She punched Anka in the pussy as her long leg flashed past, and hoped that an out-of-control Anka was not a huge mistake.

Both on their knees now, they clashed, their breasts slamming together.

“You want to fuck him, you sick bitch? Jamie gasped.  Anka screamed and hit her, lower ribs, a brutal flash of pain.  A few eyes in the audience cut to Vasily.  Jamie jammed one hand under Anka’s chin, into the blood from her split lip, and mauled her breast with her other hand, slicing her thumbnail into her nipple.  Anka’s fist drilled into her ribs again, the same spot, the spot where cartilage splits the easiest.  Again.  Again.  Jamie couldn’t breathe.  She flung her head forward, headbutting Anka in the bridge of her nose.  The one place where cartilage breaks even easier.

They spun apart and to their feet.  The bottom half of Anka’s face was covered with blood but Jamie knew that as bad as she looked the damage was less than what she’d done to Jamie’s arm and ribs.  She held her aching arm low, to guard her ribs, and because she could barely lift it.  Too low.  Anka’s fist knifed into her breast above it.  Jamie sobbed in pain and staggered, unable to block or dodge Anka’s foot flashing up between her thighs.  Oh god.

The audience was silent, listening to Jamie’s harsh gasps, and the click of Anka’s heels as she circled her downed enemy.  She kicked Jamie in her ribs - same spot - then in her spine as she twisted to her side.  Jamie’s left breast rested on the floor.  Anka stabbed her heel into the center of its mass, and put all her weight on it.  She smiled at the English woman’s desperate screams for long seconds, then lifted her foot and kicked her in the face.

Anka stepped away.  “Get up when you are ready, Jamie,” she said, not even looking at her.  “I am in no hurry.”

[sharksnake]

Nice. I've read your recent story. Love how you put rich background story and fight details.

[Rocko23]

Brutal, brutal brutal. Come on Jamie hope she wins but either way please let her do some real damage to Anka now! - been a bit too far in her favour thus far!

[bcw8]

The voice in Jamie’s head was the agent who’d trained her.  “When you’re in a bad place,” the voice said.  “Move.  In any direction.  Don’t stand still.  Don’t quit.”  This was as bad as any place she’d ever been, and Jamie had been in awful places.  A brutal fight in a bamboo cage in Laos.  A savage battle in a tent in the Sinai desert.  It was not an idle threat for her to speak of kicking a woman to death - she’d done it to escape that cage.  But Anka was the worst she’d ever been pitted with, she knew that now.  Move.  Don’t quit.

She staggered to her feet.  The pain in her breast made her head swim.  She fought down nausea.  Anka spun, perfectly balanced, into a back kick deep into Jamie’s guts.  The Brit landed hard on her hands and knees, sobbing for air.  God it hurt.  She took longer to get up this time.  Anka waited, a slight smile on her bloody lips.  She swung as soon as Jamie gained her feet but this time the brunette ducked under it.  She jabbed into Anka’s belly, twice, took a blow on her good shoulder, hooked her fist into Anka’s mouth again. 

Now it was the Russian who stepped back.  Move, said the voice in Jamie’s head.  She exploded forward into Anka, driving her knee up into the blonde’s sternum.  Anka’s blonde hair whipped forward as her chin hit her upper chest from the impact.  Move. Jamie rifled fists into Anka’s head.  Cut her eyes, close them, said the voice.  Anka was staggering.  Jamie kicked her in the thigh, same spot as before, then hit her in the breast.  Oh that felt good, and it made the bitch scream.  Again.  Again.  Anka dropped to her knees.  Jamie threw all her weight into another flying knee, into Anka’s temple as her head lolled.  It blasted Anka to the floor, stretched full-length on her side.

The watchers were stunned by this furious rally from the British girl.  But now Jamie staggered too.  Her ribs were on fire from the effort she’d burned; her heel-spiked breast shrieked with pain as it bobbed.  Kill her now, her brain shouted, but her body couldn’t act.  Anka was already struggling up.  Jamie tried to keep her down; a third kick into her thigh made Anka sob with pain, but it wasn’t enough.  They circled now, Anka limping, their breathing harsh and loud.

“Vasily is a fool,”  Anka gasped.  “He risks too much just to have your filthy pussy.”

It wasn’t strategic, now.  Jamie wasn’t trying to unbalance Anka with words.  It was just hate, bubbling out of her.  “You pathetic bitch.  Did you listen while I fucked him?  Every orgasm I had was real, Anka.  And him - he couldn’t get enough of me.  And you know why he’ll let me go when you’re dead?  Because he’ll want to fuck me even more then.”

Anka screamed and charged into Jamie, driving her back to the nearest wall, party goers scattering out of their way.  All training was forgotten.  They tore at each other’s breasts, slashing and crushing.  They clinched and bit each other, shoulders and neck.  They pumped knees into each other’s guts and pussy. 

A few of the audience turned away, sickened.  Vasily made no attempt to stop them as they left.  They would cause no trouble.  Those who remained, like him, were fascinated by how quickly civilization could be left behind.  What they watched now was a fight between animals, utterly violent, primitively out of control.   

Anka fell to her knees.  Jamie grabbed her sweat-matted hair to hold her and drove her fist into her upturned face.  The Russian’s perfect ice beauty was ruined.  Her mouth was swollen, her lips thick with cuts.  One eye was closed, full of blood.  Her nose streamed blood.  Jamie’s fist felt broken itself but she pistoned it into Anka anyway. 

Anka screamed in fury and drove upward, dragging Jamie’s hand out of her hair and twisting it.  The bad arm.  Oh my fucking god Jamie thought as the pain took her air.  Anka twisted more, bending Jamie forward.  She hammered her fist into the brunette’s shoulder.  Move, said the voice, but Jamie couldn’t.  She could only try to endure the pain.  Through the haze of tears in her eyes, she saw Anka’s foot and from instinct not thought she stomped on it with her spike heel.  Anka let go of her arm and spun away.

They clashed again, like panthers in a cage.  Jamie’s left arm was nearly useless, but she shot her right arm between Anka’s legs and lifted her off her feet and slammed her to her back on the polished hardwood.  The blonde’s head hit shockingly hard.  Jamie landed on her, her good hand scrabbling for her throat.  She leaned forward, her arm locked out, choking Anya.  But she couldn’t pin Anya’s arms.  Her damaged, heel-spiked breast swayed in easy reach.  Anya attacked it, both hands twisting it.  Jamie screamed. 

One minute, Jamie told herself.  Choke Anya for one minute; by then she would be unconscious.  Fifty-five seconds.  Anya shifted her grip; one hand still crushed and twisted Jamie’s breast, her thumb stabbed deep into the puncture left by her heel, opening freshets of blood.  The other hand locked like a vise on Jamie’s nipple, and pulled.  Fifty seconds.

Brag of your tits some more, English whore.

Forty-five.

Anya’s lips were blue beneath the blood crusted on them. 

I will take your nipples as trophies.

Jamie thought, for the first time, that dying might be better than this agony.

Forty seconds.

[Rocko23]

Wow. Amazing. Amazing. Amazing. Super hot please carry on! Hope Jamie holds on to win! The insult she gave to Anka re Vasily wanting to fuck her more when she is dead was brilliant and so scenario perfect.

[deity17313]

I feel like the games and contests you make the heroines go through along with the included creativity are the best stories you e written so far. Great so far bc.

[bcw8]

Jamie broke with twenty-five seconds to go, screaming uncontrollably.  Anka shuddered as she sucked in air. 

Anka didn’t let go of her death grip on Jamie’s breast.  She dragged her to the floor, then rolled to mount her.  In Anka’s hands, Jamie’s nipple was stretched obscenely far, the beautiful sphere of her breast crushed like a discarded beer can.  When Anka could speak, she gasped, “No one in this room thinks your tits are better now, English slut.  Drown in your pain.”

It was like drowning, or at least how Jamie had imagined drowning.  The pain enveloped her.  It filled her.  Blackness.  Screaming.

Somehow, she threw Anka off.  Somehow, she got to her feet and staggered away before the Russian could come at her again.  Like her face breaking the surface of the water.  No longer drowning.  Space between them.  She moved.  Anka stalked her.

“Nowhere to run, Jamie,” Anka said.  She was staggering herself.   

The crowd moved together, like a flock of starlings, encircling them.  Those who had remained had no squeamishness.  They had been promised a kill.  They wanted to see it, up close.  Vasily was allowed an unquestioned spot in the front.

Jamie made her stand.  The few moments she’d stolen had allowed the agony in her breast to ease, had allowed her to test her arm.  It hurt like fuck but wasn’t numb.  She could use it, a little. 

Anka circled her.  “Time to crawl, bitch,” she said.  “Time to beg.  Do it - and I’ll finish you, quick.  You’ve suffered enough.”

“Spare me your false fucking pity,” cxnt,” Jamie said, thickly.  “I’ll not crawl or beg.  Come kill me, if you can.”

“Watch me, Vasily,” Anka said.  She lunged.

Jamie hit her, in the throat.  Lucky?  Fuck yes.  But real luck would have been to crush her fucking larynx.  Anka’s blue eyes went wide with choking pain.  It was she who went to her knees. 

“Yes, watch her, Vasily,” Jamie said.  She raised her foot and drove it forward into Anka’s left breast.  This was aim, and vengeance, not luck.  Her stiletto stabbed deep, through the blonde’s pale nipple, into the center of her breast.  The impact slammed Anka onto her back.  Don’t fuck around, said the voice in Jamie’s head.  Stomp her dead.

She tried.  She landed two, into Anka’s guts, before Anka took her planted leg out from under her.  They lay on the floor, side by side. 

Anka rolled to her knees, hunched over, her forehead pressed to the floor.  God the fucking English whore had hurt her bad, her throat, something inside her belly.  How could that bitch still be fighting?  She had nearly torn her tit off.  No one she had ever fought before had been like this.

Jamie felt black despair.  The Russian was relentless - unstoppable.  How much longer could she fight her?  Again the thought of simple surrender crept in, whispering from the shadows.  Slip beneath the water.  Fight no more.  Fuck that, said the other voice.

They pushed up, at the same time.

“Finish her,” said Vasily.  He could have been speaking to either woman, or to both of them.  It occurred to Vasily that perhaps neither would survive this.  He would miss fucking Jamie, but on the whole to be rid of them both would be what the Americans called a win-win.