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Off-Site Conference

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Offline Catharsis

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Off-Site Conference
« on: August 23, 2020, 04:49:20 PM »
Off-Site Conference
by Catharsis

   The hotel room hovering over the city on the 18th floor was dark.  The sun that had shone through its gauzy curtains only an hour before had descended past the tops of the nearby skyscrapers.  Now only the dim light from a sliver of moon and the glow of the streets below illuminated the sparsely decorated walls, the scattered furniture, the unkempt bed, the discarded business jackets and pairs of high heels, and the forms of two unconscious women lying a few feet apart on the thin carpet.  The traffic outside hummed like a distant ghostly parade, nearly as quiet as the soft breathing whispering through the air of the motionless room.

   Ellen's wavy, light brown hair stuck out in wild disarray.  Her voluptuous body displayed bruises and scratches where her ripped satin cream blouse and hiked-up knee-length black skirt exposed a map of the damage she'd withstood on her otherwise flawless skin.  The runs in her stockings and rough condition of her knuckles were the proof of the punishment she'd doled out in return, matched in equal measure by the condition of her prone rival.

   Gwen lay on her back, one arm draped across her stomach just beneath the mounds of her heavy breasts.  Her dark blue patterned blouse was open to the waist, revealing a black satin camisole and the straps of a black bra.  Her short skirt bunched up like a wrap around her hips, showing every inch of her torn charcoal stockings.  The long, dark brown hair she'd spent so much time on this morning pooled around her head in a tousled mass. 

   Like Ellen, Gwen wasn't wearing any jewelry.  Like Ellen, she didn't need it to catch the attention of those she wanted to attract.  Like Ellen, she didn't have the looks of someone who'd get into a knock-down, drag-out fight with a fellow manager at the financial services company she worked for.  But, like Ellen, Gwen wasn't the kind to back down from an insult or a challenge.

   And so, Gwen found herself coming to like a drunk the day after a weekend binge.  She took a deep breath, then exhaled.  With aching muscles, she lifted her head and scanned the room.  Her eyes adjusted to the frail visibility and picked out the shadowy figure of the woman she'd just waged all-out war against.  She sat up and leaned one elbow on the disheveled comforter on the bed.  Pain blossomed, bringing on a dream-like flashback of her encounter with Ellen.  Damn, that bitch was tough.  Gwen had slapped and punched and scratched and pulled hair for well over fifteen minutes and still the woman hadn't given up.  Not only that, but Ellen had pummeled right back with equal ferocity.

   She inventoried their battle around the room that Travel had reserved for her trip here to headquarters, and tallied up the payments and costs.  Her shoulders: they'd begun in the room's entryway, pushing each other with outstretched hands.  Her scalp: Ellen had grabbed two clumps of hair and Gwen had yanked right back, slamming the two of them into both walls of the narrow hallway repeatedly.  Her cheeks: Gwen had placed her palm on the other woman's face and shoved it sideways.  That had started an exchange of slaps, each landing harder and faster than the last.  So quickly had the rain of blows turned into a downpour of stinging smacks.

   Her ribs: after growing frustrated with Gwen's defiance despite a seemingly devastating number of blows to her head, Ellen had driven an uppercut into Gwen's midsection.  Gwen had paused, then rifled her own fist into Ellen's gut.  They'd traded blows slowly and deliberately, each putting everything they had into it in an effort to raise the other's bid.  When both ran out of capital, they'd disengaged, circled each other, cast off their business jackets, and put their assets on the line.

   Her arms and sides: the punches that followed had been hurled with more enthusiasm than skill.  Gwen had mostly felt her knuckles bounce off Ellen's arms, but every so often they had impacted the supple flesh of her body.  Ellen's assault hammered her in return.  Minute after minute ticked by and still they set at one another with a vengeance.  Barking out grunts and groans, they'd done a brisk business in jabs, crosses and hooks.  The memory of that hot skirmish got Gwen's blood pumping quickly again.  Fighting like that had been thoroughly exhilarating.

   Her gorgeous round breasts: one too many shots to their sensitive tits had sent them into a protective clinch.  Arms had enclosed the pair in a web of constriction.  Fingers had clawed and torn at clothing.  In the midst of it all, their large feminine orbs had squashed and compressed.  Dancing crazily and ripping at whatever they could get a hold of, the two women became a whirlwind of violence.

   Her long, toned, stockinged legs: The back of Gwen's knees had hit the edge of the bed, and both had found themselves toppling to the king-sized mattress.  Still locked as one, they'd wrestled and shredded blouses in a wanton fury.  Churning up the bedsheets, they'd entwined their legs like vines and rocked this way and that.  Trading the top position again and again, they'd rolled in a tight ball of fury until they finally spun out of control and off the edge of the bed.

   Her tender ass: over and over they'd grappled across the floor, each sinking their nails deep into the other woman's rear end.  Body to body Ellen and Gwen had tumbled over and over one another.  They'd crashed into furniture before squeezing into a fierce knot between the bed and dresser for a time.  Then Gwen had kicked away and dragged Ellen to her feet by her hair.  Standing toe to toe, fists had flown, rocking their heads viciously side to side.

   Her skull: one particularly nasty punch to the head from her opponent had knocked Gwen woozy.  In desperation, the buxom brunette plowed her knuckles into Ellen's left tit.  When the haughty bitch who ran the Compliance Department had bent towards her and cradled her injured boobs, Gwen had kneed her in the forehead, and sent her flopping to the floor.  Gwen's foot then landed awkwardly on a corner of the comforter that had slipped off the bed, and she'd tripped backwards, passing out as the back of her head hit the ground hard.

   She now awoke wondering how much time had passed, trying to remember where she was and whether her memories of engaging in the toughest catfight of her life were real or not.  Gwen flexed her aching fingers.  This was real, no doubt about it.  She'd been itching to give Ellen a good pounding ever since the slut's memo last month had blind-sided her and threw her International Sales department into full CYA mode.  Finding out that Ellen was unrepentant and all but daring her to settle the matter personally had sweetened the deal.

   And now, if Gwen's eyes weren't deceiving her, Ellen was stirring.  The fawn-haired beauty coughed once and shook her head.  Their gazes met.

   "I repeat my offer, you fucking whore." Gwen said.

   "I'll never accept anything from you, slut."

   "Don't make give you the hard sell again."

   "You aren't going to get me to 'Yes'."

   "Back to the bargaining table, then." Gwen said, preparing to stand.

   "Best bring your 'A' game this time, bitch."

   "Always do, you dumb cxnt."

   In the darkened room, two indistinct figures rose to battle once more.  They swayed on unsteady legs, readied their arms, and adjusted what remained of their blouses.  As if responding to an opening market bell only they could hear, the women closed the gap between themselves and launched vicious slaps across each other's cheeks.  Gwen massaged her injured face, combed her disordered hair away from her eyes and swung again.  Ellen took it, glared in red hot hate and fired back.  Back and forth with escalating power and speed, the women delivered open handed blows.  Their right arms slashed through the air, palms connecting with smacks that rung off the walls.  Each was testing the other's endurance and resolve after their furious opening exchange, and hoping that her foe hadn't recovered much during the halt in trading.
   
   Finding a firm wall of determination and frustrated by the limited effect her slaps were having, Ellen grabbed Gwen by the hair with her left hand, pulled the dark brunette's head downwards and hammered her upper back with her closed right fist.  Gwen lunged forward, yanking Ellen's tresses with all ten manicured fingers.  Their bodies drew close.  Their half-clothed chests slammed together.  Side to side they weaved, torturing one another's scalps with painful tugs.  Legs spread apart and heels dug in for balance.  Gwen and Ellen bent at the waist trying to throw one another down.  Chirps of pain mixed with grunts of exertion, interrupting the rapid rhythm of their panted breathing.
   
   Gwen tore at Ellen's tattered top.  Her nails dug lines in the fawn-haired woman's back.  Ellen howled and shoved Gwen a foot away.  The sight of her rival's face, dim as it was in the meager light, sent Ellen into a rage.  She hurled a fist wildly.  Her knuckles plowed into the soft flesh just below one of Gwen's boobs.  The feel of the impact, the recoil of the other woman's body, the sound of air expelled from her foe's mouth... damn did it thrill her to give in to the urge to unleash her fury on a deserving bitch.
   
   Her enjoyment was cut short a moment later as pain erupted in her midsection.  Gwen hauled her fist back and readied another punch.  Ellen cocked her own arm back.  Face to face, pupils locked, the women glared deeply into each other's eyes, daring one another to continue.
   
   The hits landed simultaneously, glancing off their ribs.  Steadying themselves with rough holds on their torn blouses, Ellen and Gwen punched again.  And again.  And again.  Anger overtook them.  With no thought to defense, the battling women pummeled their rival's bodies mercilessly.  Huffing and puffing, they swung punch after punch.  Fists struck sides and stomach, breasts and arms, shoulders and heads.  For nearly three minutes, the fearsome females beat each other ruthlessly with clenched fists until sweat shone on their faces and beaded on skin growing hot beneath their expensive outfits.
   
   Gwen flung an uppercut but misjudged her target's position in the darkness.  Her clenched hand landed smack dab in Ellen's belly, folding her over.  Ellen's arms landed about Gwen's shoulders and the pair fell into a loose clinch.  Gwen repeated her attack, although with less windup.
   
   "Unh.  You like this?" Ellen spat, throwing two hard rights into Gwen's body.
   
   "When it's you I get to fuck up," Gwen panted in reply, yanking Ellen's head to the side with a strong tug on her hair.  "Oh hell yeah."
   
   The anger in Ellen's eyes and the hateful grimace on her lips lit Gwen on fire.  She pulled harder and slugged Ellen solidly across one cheek.  The bruised beauty responded with a stinging blow into Gwen's left tit.  With twin animal growls the two hellcats launched a flurry of punches into each other's battered bodies.  They staggered about the room hurling fists and knees, barging into furniture and slamming into the wall.  Spinning crazily, Gwen and Ellen hit the bed, fell onto it and crashed onto the carpet.  Tangled together, their battle continued unabated.
   
   Gwen knew that Ellen's incessant hitting and scratching was hurting her, but somehow pain felt like a distant concern.  Here, locked in a struggle of physical combat and mental willpower with her was the body of another female, one that belonged to someone she was bent on whipping into humiliation.  Its hot breath blew on her face, neck and shoulders.  Its mouth grunted when Gwen's punches landed true.  It limbs encircled her.  Its fingers clawed at her back.  Its legs wrapped painfully about her waist.
   
   But Gwen was filled with energy.  She was fueled by hatred and adrenaline, and a perverse enjoyment unlike anything she'd ever experienced.  This fight was such a magnificent release.  Gwen was throwing everything she had into it.  Blow after blow.  Mounting Ellen's bucking body, trying to force it down and control it, only to be wrestled off and set at again. 
   
   She loved it.  To the depths of her being, she loved it.
   
   And the glow in Ellen's eyes told her that the feeling was mutual.
   
   That realization drove them both beyond all inhibitions.
   
   They pressed themselves tightly together, arms and legs lashing them as one like taught ropes, and strained with all the muscle they had.  Feverishly hugging and rocking side to side on the floor, the hate-filled rivals tore into one another with complete abandon.  Groans of pain and cries of anguish erupted from their crushing embrace.  This way and that, they rolled, striking first the desk chair and then the metal air conditioning unit below the large picture window.
   
   Gwen kicked, breaking them apart, but her thirst to fight was far from quenched.  The aggressive look on Ellen's face was all it took to spur her back into action.  She pounced, attacking the half-clothed woman and sending the two of them into a tumbling ball of feral violence.
   
   Punching and slapping, squeezing and smacking, they fought on the floor for a time.  Their bodies coiled and writhed as they tugged hair and pummeled each other relentlessly.  Struggling to their feet, they continued their barrage, slugging slower now but with undiminished ardor.  Fists thudded into flesh.  Feet stumbled chaotically as their pitched battle ranged back and forth.  Ellen bulldozed Gwen into the wall.  Gwen pounded her back and sides, but it took a knee to Ellen's groin to finally dislodge the fawn-haired bitch.  Ellen grabbed at her foe for balance as she fell backwards, latched on to Gwen's camisole and tugged Gwen down with her atop the bed.
   
   Gwen's bra-covered breasts landed on Ellen's face, smothering it while the rest of her body weighed down on her trapped rival.  Ellen squirmed valiantly, but found herself stuck in a depression in the mattress where she could not escape.
   
   "Got you, you slimy bitch," Gwen said triumphantly.
   
   Her reward for successfully trapping Ellen was a sharp pain on her bosom.  She shrieked and lifted herself quickly onto her hands and knees.  "Biting whore!" she spat, and clouted the snarling woman with the palm of her hand.  Ellen squirmed and spun them a half turn.
   
   They lay on their sides on the bed for a time, grunting and tugging hair with their stockinged legs slithering and kicking.  The battling females churned amid the rumpled sheets, building sweat but doing little damage.
   
   Ellen finally managed to work her hips atop Gwen's midsection and mount her.  Snarling like an animal, Gwen attacked with her nails at Ellen's swaying breasts.  The woman's blouse tore away, allowing Gwen to sink her fingers deep into her rival's soft tit flesh.  Ellen returned the favor, causing sharp pain to sting Gwen's tender boobs.  Seething with spite, the two tortured each other's chests for an agonizing minute, gripping and twisting them in a contest of nastiness and endurance.
   
   Ellen disengaged first.  Gwen's interminable squeezing was too much to take.  She leaped backwards, ramming into the headboard.  Gwen pursued, but caught a knee to the chin for her troubles.  The sight of the director of the International Sales retreating set Ellen on the attack.  She whacked Gwen's right ear with her left shin once, then twice.  When the dark-haired beauty rose up and closed the distance, Ellen's right foot was ready.
   
   The heel struck Gwen's stomach hard, knocking the breath out of her.  She reeled back, clutching her belly.  Her foe quickly coiled like a spring and let fly with both feet.  One slammed into her aching left breast and the other landed on the chest bone just below her neck.  The combination launched her off the bed.  Stumbling wildly, Gwen tripped and collapsed into the high-backed reading chair in the corner, tilting it until it leaned on two legs against the wall.
   
   Ellen was on her in an instant.  She climbed into her flailing opponent and trapped her with incessant slaps and punches.  Squirming and unable to escape, Gwen retaliated with short, rapid strikes.  On and on they fought, balanced precariously, with Ellen's weight hearing down on Gwen's thrashing body.  Closer and closer they pressed, drawing ever tighter into a clawing and writhing feral ball.
   
   The crazed skirmish halted suddenly as Gwen fired a knee deep between Ellen's straddling legs.  Ellen howled in agony and slid down off of her, one hand cupping her aching cxnt and the other still clutching a fistful of Gwen's hair.  As she descended to the carpet, she yanked Gwen down with her.  The chair righted itself with a thump and the two women fell into separate piles, panting heavily.
   
   There they rested in the near-darkness, groaning in the aftermath of their violent brawl.  Gwen eyed Ellen warily.  Determination boiled in her veins.  She was never going to give up.  She was going to keep at it, pounding the stupid bitch until she was defeated.  No matter how long it took.
   
   Gwen lifted herself up onto her knees.  Her blouse was in tatters.  Her camisole hung by only one strap.  But her chest felt too hot, and her bra stifling.  She took them all off and tossed them aside.
   
   Ellen watched her strip.  A smirk curled on her lips.  "Fine with me," she snarled, and shrugged out of her torn top and bra.
   
   The two bare-breasted women faced one another once more on the floor in that dimly-lit hotel room.  On their knees, they grasped each other's tousled hair with one hand and glared eye to eye.  Ellen swung first, a loose fist that plowed into the soft flesh of Gwen's left tit.
   
   "Unh," Gwen moaned.  She struck back, barking her knuckles on Ellen's ribs.
   
   "Nn, fuck."
   
   "Yeah, bitch.  Hunh!"  Gwen took a hard blow and responded with greater vigor.
   
   "You like that?  Oof!"
   
   "Yea.  C'mon!"  She was hurling her fist faster now.

   "Fight me, then!"  Ellen yelled with unrestrained glee.  "Fight me, you whore!"
   
   Sweaty and nearing exhaustion, the half-naked women smacked and punched in a flurry of hatred.  They tore at hair and grunted as they hit defenseless bellies and sides.  Their wobbling tits collided, each pair battering the other in their own escalating conflict.  Their moans filled the room with a low drone, interrupted by the rhythmic percussion of fists on flesh.  Striking, slapping, and bashing, the weary females fought to the limits of their endurance.
   
   Their pace slowed as the pair soon ran out of gas.  Their desire had outlasted and overrun the strength in their limbs.  Still, their vicious back and forth catfight refused to end.  Each would haul back her free arm and drive it into the body of her hated rival, then halt to catch her breath, knowing that she was about to receive a stinging reply right back. 
   
   A minute, then two passed.  Still the hellcats battered each other with punch after punch.  Eventually, the pause between blows lasted seconds.
   
   "Fuck... you..." Ellen managed, panting heavily.  "I'll audit every last transaction for the last six years... if that's what it takes to find a mistake to tear you down with.  Rrgh!"
   
   Gwen cut her off with a painful tug on her tangled locks.  "You..." she panted, "just can't stand that I'll make VP before you, you back-stabbing hag!"
   
   The fire in Ellen's eyes let Gwen know her verbal jab had connected.  "I will never... EVER take orders from a miserable cxnt like you!"
   
   Ellen swung an uppercut but Gwen blunted it by lunging forward.  It hit the dark brunette's midsection with enough force, though, to make her crumple onto Ellen.  Body against body, the rivals leaned into one another.  Grunting with exertion, they barged at each other.  Toes dug into the carpet and legs pushed with feverish might.  Their arms wrapped them in a strenuous bear hug.  Stiffened nipples thrust hard into sensitive flesh.  Fingers slipped on wet skin.  Gwen and Ellen struggled valiantly for nearly two minutes, but neither was able to topple the other over.  Overheating, Ellen disengaged and rifled a fist into her rival's gut.
   
   Gwen folded in half, her forehead drooping toward the floor, and groaned in anguish.  She stayed that way for some time.

   "Now," Ellen crowed, "Who's withdrawing her request for promotion?"
   
   Gwen uncurled herself.  She shot a defiant look at Ellen and spat, "You are!"
   
   The punch that landed next was a low blow.  But it did its job, incapacitating Ellen so that she bent down and accepted the hook Gwen launched into the bitch's cheek as a follow-up.
   
   Ellen pitched forward, unconscious, onto Gwen's sweaty torso.  Gwen immediately let her drop face first onto the floor and crept away from the prone woman's body like it was rotten garbage. 
   
   Gwen exhaled and slumped against the bed.  She wanted to shout exultantly but lacked any energy to do so.  After a few minutes, she struggled to her feet and staggered over to the mini bar.  There, she cracked open a tiny bottle of whiskey and poured half of it into her mouth in celebration.
   
   She yelped as her lower lip stung sharply.  She touched it gingerly to find it split.  'When did that happen?' she wondered.
   
   'Who gives a shit', she thought, glancing at the form of her defeated foe and draining the rest of the dose of alcohol.  'Victory still tastes so fucking good.'

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Offline sidekick

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Re: Off-Site Conference
« Reply #1 on: August 24, 2020, 04:34:30 AM »
Very nicely done!
sidekick