The basis of this story was something I read many years ago, made some changes to, and turned into the first chapter of a multi-part series. I found it when browsing through old files a few days ago, so I figure I'll post it here. Unfortunately I can't find the original story or the author's name, but whoever and wherever they are, I thank them for the inspiration
Enjoy!
*****
As we turned off the A-road and headed for the foothills ahead, I silently questioned what it was we were about to do. My name is Donna Woodward, and my sister Sharon and I were on our way to a house to meet two women we had even talked to, for the purpose of fighting them – physically fighting them.
This all began about fourteen months ago for my sister, but this was my first time. I couldn’t believe I was actually going to do this – even for Sharon.
My sister was one of those girls that just never got it right. She was always in trouble at school, quarreling, fighting, and just being a bully. Once, in high school, she got in a fight with another girl named Renata Caprice, over some guy that Sharon had just started dating. The fight was broken up by a teacher almost before it started, but after school, Sharon followed the girl home, dragging me along too for some reason, and confronted her in her own yard.
The fighting began as girl fights usually do, with name calling, hair pulling, and clothes tearing. Sharon quickly knocked Renata to the ground and began to pummel her chest and face without mercy, then suddenly changed her position and began pounding her opponent below the waist – her lower belly and even right down between her legs.
I didn’t say or do anything to interfere but I felt sorry for Renata. She was totally unable to defend herself, and Sharon seemed to be enjoying the experience – a lot.
Maybe it was the screaming, or just dumb luck, but Renata's mother arrived in the yard and pulled Sharon off her daughter by her hair. Sharon spun around and kicked Mrs. Caprice right in her crotch. Mrs. Caprice collapsed in pain and Sharon immediately jumped on her and began to beat on her breasts. She tore open Mrs. Caprice's blouse, pulled her bra up and deliberately bit down hard on her nipple. Mrs. Caprice screamed and tried to pull my sister off her, but Sharon just wouldn’t quit. She grabbed the hapless woman by her long black hair and twisted her head and neck until she could send several heavy punches into her jaw.
Finally, Sharon climbed off the bruised and bleeding Mrs. Caprice, grabbed the waistband of her yellow shorts and pulled both them and her panties off. Throwing them disdainfully at the still sobbing Renata, she then turned back to the mother, picked up one of her legs and held it out at her side, exposing the woman's bare crotch. Sharon then proceeded to kick Mrs. Caprice solidly and repeatedly in her bare, exposed pussy. The older woman screamed in agony at the first two kicks, but then mercifully passed out. That didn’t stop Sharon from kicking her a couple more times though.
Sharon returned to the frightened girl who had just seen her mother beaten so savagely, and gave her a hefty kick to her ample breasts. At this point, while Renata was stretched out on her back from the impact of the blow, Sharon reached down and dragged Renata's panties down to her knees. Then she jumped up in the air and landed with both of her knees on the helpless girl's lower abdomen. Renata’s scream had hardly left her mouth when my sister reached down, ripped out a handful of Renata's pubic hair – getting an even louder scream – and calmly put it in her blouse pocket.
It was then that Sharon knelt beside the battered Renata and spoke the only words she had uttered since the onslaught began. Holding Renata's head up by the hair, she simply told the girl to leave her boyfriend alone or she would get more of the same and then some. Then she told Renata to tell her mom that if there was any trouble, she would be back for her, too. “You got that, bitch?” She punctuated the question with a final solid blow to the girl's face.
She took the pubes as a souvenir of her conquest – eventually the only one she kept, since she dumped the boy two weeks later after beating him in a fight. Sharon’s had many fights, before and since, but that was the first one – and indeed the only one – I had actually seen.
After she graduated from high school, Sharon found a friend named Tracy Clarke. She and my sister get along well because they both like to work out, and to fight. They even belong to a group of women with similar interests. They get together somewhere, draw names and then fight each other for the pleasure of it. I’m not part of the group and Sharon never tells me where she is going when she leaves for these get-togethers, but she’s often away for the entire weekend, leaving straight from work on Friday evening and returning on Monday, so I won’t see her until Monday evening.
For the past six months or so, I’ve been working out with Sharon and Tracy a couple of times a week, just to keep fit, and they’ve even tried to teach me how to fight like they do. They say I have potential but personally, I don’t think I have the desire for it.
Tracy works in the head office of an insurance company, which is how she and Sharon first met, since my sister is a bicycle courier and does deliveries to all the offices. Two or three months ago, Tracy's boss, a woman named Patricia Ferrari, found out about ‘the group’ as Tracy and Sharon call it, and persuaded Tracy to take her along to one of their meetings. Neither Tracy nor Sharon mentioned what happened that weekend, but since then I've noticed that both of them work out much harder, and their weekends away have become more frequent – "business trips" as Tracy calls them, though she and Sharon still never tell me where they go.
I suspected for a while that Patricia was organizing paid fights for them. Judging from the money that Sharon suddenly seemed to have, it was a profitable business, though a tough one, since I saw Sharon come home several times with bruises on her face, or walking stiffly from some injury, which never used to happen when she was away with just ‘the group’ for a weekend. Once or twice, I asked her what had happened, but she always shrugged off my inquiries with non-committal responses, and after the second time I stopped asking.
My suspicion that Sharon was fighting for money was finally confirmed the week before, when it seemed that Patricia had scheduled a fight for Sharon and Tracy, but Tracy couldn't make it since her grandmother was suddenly taken ill and had to go to the hospital. Patricia asked Sharon to find a substitute but that proved impossible at such short notice, since apparently most of their group are married or otherwise involved. In desperation, Sharon asked me to be her partner. She said that since we were sisters and worked out together, it was only natural. Right, I thought – just like two fish riding bicycles. Nevertheless, here I was. I could never refuse my sister when she set her mind on something.
After a couple of wrong turns, we found the house we were looking for, which turned out to be a virtual mansion set high on a hill overlooking Arcadia. We drove past wrought-iron gates, parked Sharon's battered Ford Escort in the big circular driveway and went up to the black-painted front door. Sharon rapped hard on the brass knocker and after a few moments, a man answered.
The first thing I noticed about him was his size. He was at least 6' 6" tall, and must have weighed 250 pounds or more, but there was no fat on him. He was wearing shorts with some Polo Club logo on them, and a tank top that displayed his massive shoulders and huge arms. Even though his blonde hair was greying at the temples, he had a better body than most guys half his age. He obviously worked out hard and often, and looked like a professional bodybuilder. For a panicked instant I wondered if it was this man that we had come to fight. With a smile that lit up his pale blue eyes, he introduced himself as Tony Miller and politely invited us in.
Immediately inside the front door was a spacious circular foyer, painted white with matching tiles on the floor, and a mahogany staircase winding upstairs around the periphery of the room. A lady stood at the far side of the foyer, in front of an archway leading into what looked like a living room beyond. I immediately thought of her as a lady rather than a woman, since I guessed she was of a similar age to my mother. Her light brown hair was cut short in a fashionable layered style that ended well above the collar of her loose-fitting black terry-cloth sweatsuit. She looked trim and fit as she came toward us, her white canvas sneakers silent on the tiles. The hand she extended first to Sharon and then to me was cool to the touch, with neatly trimmed, white-painted nails that stood out against her lightly tanned skin. As I shook her hand, I was astounded by the size of it – she had possibly the largest hands of any woman I’d ever seen, and there was considerable strength in her grip.
She introduced herself as Tony's wife Carol, and announced that it was she, and their daughter, and Sharon and I are to fit. For a moment I was relieved that I would not have to fight her massive husband, but then it occurred to me that I was about to fight this seemingly nice lady, and I guess my consternation must have been visible since Carol immediately asked me what was the matter.
I hesitated to reply, but then decided that honesty was the best course of action and voiced my earlier thought that she reminded me of my mother. I caught Sharon's dirty look out of the corner of my eye, and immediately feared that I’d blown it for both of us, but then Carol laughed delightedly, as did her husband. The warmth of her laugh relaxed me a little, and I looked around me and complimented them both on their lovely home. Indeed, I felt quite out of place standing in these sumptuous surroundings in my old grey sweatshirt and scruffy jeans with the knee hanging out.
Carol and Tony both thanked me for the compliment, and stood there smiling at Sharon and me. I had just begun to feel like I should say something more when there was a sound of footsteps from the top of the stairs. A young woman appeared, dressed in a teal Gortex sweatsuit with a cloud of blonde hair tumbling about her shoulders. Carol introduced her as their daughter Stephanie, and began to introduce Sharon and me, but the girl cut her off. “Is this the best you could find?” she asked with a scornful look at us. “You promised me some competition this time, but it looks like you bought off the sale rack.”
Sharon was never one to take an insult lying down, and she responded with a number of extremely pointed words and gestures to the effect that Stephanie was no prize herself. The girl did not reply, but her eyes narrowed and she looked venomously at my sister.
I flushed with embarrassment, and it was my turn to give Sharon a dirty look. After all, here we were in the home of these people – an extremely expensive and elegant home – and here was, cursing out their daughter in language I hadn’t heard since high school. I stole a glance at Carol but she continued to smile at me, her large brown eyes twinkling, and then Tony broke the tension by suggesting that we all go upstairs to the area they had prepared for the match.
Stephanie turned her back on us and disappeared as soon as we began to ascend. Carol led the way with Tony trailing behind Sharon and me. As we reached the top of the stairs, I asked Carol if I could use the toilet. I used the long drive up from London as my excuse, but in truth my need was more due to nerves than anything else. I’d wrestled a few times against Sharon and Tracy at the gym, and Sharon had given me some extra practice sessions in the last few days, but this was different. I was unsure what Sharon expected of me, and what I could expect from our opponents. More than anything, I was afraid of letting my sister down.
Carol smiled and took me along the upstairs hallway to a guest bathroom that was bigger than my bedroom in our flat back in the city. She left me alone after giving me directions to the room where we were to fight, and a couple of minutes later I headed back along the landing, past the stairs. At I neared the open double doorway at the end, I heard raised voices coming from the room beyond, and quickened my pace.
I walked into the room and found Tony holding Stephanie back with his huge hands grasping her by the upper arms while she struggled in his grip, hurling obscenities at my sister, who stood in front of them in a fighting stance. For the first time, I got to see Stephanie from close up. She was a couple of inches taller than my own 5' 7", even though she was barefoot and I wore sneakers, and quite powerful, judging by the struggle her father was having to hold her back from my sister. Her blue eyes flashed with malice.
“What's going on?” I asked warily, directing the question at Sharon, but she just grunted, took my arm and led me to the other side of the room.
I sat down on an armless, blue upholstered couch and looked around me, taking in the room for the first time. Three of the walls were painted in a pale dove grey, while the fourth wall was entirely of glass that extended across most of the high, sloped ceiling, giving the room a light, airy feeling and offering a magnificent view of the wooded valley below. The large expanse of floor was of polished wood, though this was visible only around the edges of the room, since most of the floor was covered by a thick navy-blue mat that must have been twenty feet across.
Sharon and I sat against one of the side walls, to the right of the door. There was a matching couch on the far wall, and a third on the back wall opposite the panoramic window. A large glass and steel end table stood at each end of our couch, and at one end of the couch across the room, its other end being occupied by a video cam-corder on a tripod. On the table to my left were two folded white towels with a pink ribbon around them. There were also two water bottles of the type that you see people carrying in all the gyms.
Carol and Stephanie sat on the couch opposite us. They were talking in low voices so I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but every now and again Carol would glance in our direction and gesture with her finger while she made some point to her daughter. Once she caught my eye and smiled warmly at me, so that I involuntarily smiled back. Stephanie just continued to glare darkly at Sharon.
On the table beside their couch were five rolled-up towels, stacked like a pyramid and bound by a white cord with a big pink bow. There was also a six-pack of the same water bottles that we had, along with two large square white jars with blue lids. I wondered why they had more towels and water than us, but then I dismissed the question. It was their house and their stuff, and they could use whatever they liked. After all, Sharon and I were being paid well for our time. Indeed, it was the money that had finally convinced me to come here. When Sharon first mentioned the sum we were being paid, I didn't think I heard her and asked her to repeat it. When she did, I was dumbfounded. I didn't earn that much money in a month. Despite my nervousness, it was too good an offer to refuse. I'd been saving every penny I could spare to take a holiday in Spain next summer. With what I'd earn from this one weekend, I could change those plans and go to the Caribbean instead.
Tony was standing in the far corner next to the window, fiddling with the video camera. He said something to Carol, which brought me back to reality, and then glanced over at us. “Ladies, there are a few rules that I need to cover.”
I immediately gave him my full attention. Sharon had told me that the customer always set the rules, so it was important for me to listen, to ensure that I didn't do something stupid and embarrass Sharon and myself. I remembered my sister's warning before we got out of the car, “Don't forget what I taught you, and don't cock it up.” I glanced sideways at Sharon, then back to Tony.
“First of all,” he continued, “I’m here only to set up the camera so we can record the festivities. I will not participate or intervene under any circumstances. When the fun starts, I won't even be here. One of you will lock the door from this side, and not open it until it's all over. Okay?”
He looked expectantly at us, and waited until Sharon and I both nodded our agreement before he went on. “Second, a match is only done when one of you is pinned for a ten count, or we have a climax finish.” That phrase puzzled me, but I hid my confusion since I didn't want to look like a rank amateur – even though that’s exactly what I was.
“Finally,” Tony added, “you fight one on one. This is not a tag match...no double-teaming, and no ganging up on your opponent, understood? If a fighter's partner steps onto the mat before the match is over, the other partner is allowed to attack her and prevent her interfering.” I understood that rule, and thought it was a good one. From what I'd seen of Stephanie, she'd probably think nothing of jumping in and giving a good kick in the head to whoever was fighting her mother. If I ended up fighting Carol, I'd have to watch my back. Indeed, I hoped that I did end up matched against the mother, because her foul-mouthed fury of a daughter scared me silly.
“Okay, any questions?” asked Tony. Before I could say anything, Stephanie began screaming insults at Sharon again, and Sharon replied in kind. Something had obviously happened between them while I was in the loo, and I wandered what. Tony looked from Sharon to his daughter, smiled that same smile again, and walked toward the door.
Carol followed him, closed and locked the double doors that led into the hallway. “I'll leave the key in the lock, so we know where it is,” she informed us before she crossed the room again to join Stephanie.
Sharon stood up and stepped out of her jeans, and following her cue, I began to unfasten my own. She bent to put them in her bag beside the couch, and I asked her softly, so the others couldn’t hear, “What's a climax finish?”
She looked at me and rolled her eyes. “Shit, you are stupid.” She shook her head. “Look, don't worry about it. I'm going to destroy that little bitch Stephanie, then you pin the mother and we're out of here with pockets full of cash.” She glanced across the room and grinned, while I wondered when the pairings had been decided. Probably while I was in the loo, I guessed. “You should be able to finish that old hag in your sleep,” added Sharon. “Punch her hard in the tits and she'll go down like the Titanic.” I smiled at that. Always the lady, my sister.
I pulled my sweatshirt over my head and folded it on the couch beside me, then looked across at our opponents while I wriggled out of my jeans. Carol had already removed her terry-cloth sweatsuit and stood beside the couch in a pale blue bikini. I eyed her while she limbered up by bending repeatedly from the waist to touch her toes. She was about the same weight as me, despite being a few inches shorter. As I had initially thought, she looked great for a woman her age – to have a daughter in her late teens, she must be close to forty. From the effortless way she accomplished the exercise, I knew that she was a fit woman. She wouldn’t be the pushover that my sister seemed to think she’d be. Nevertheless, I reckoned I could beat her, provided I didn't get any nasty surprises from Stephanie while doing so.
The girl had already shed her own sweat pants, and had tied her hair back from her face with a rubber band. As I watched, she slipped out of the top and turned to regard Sharon spitefully. “So, you low class whore,” she sneered, “you think you can handle me, do you?”
Stephanie was dressed in a bikini like her mother's. The daughter's bikini was cut brief at the top but even so, it easily cradled her small boobs, and tapered in the back to a narrow thong between her taut buttocks. Carol's was more generous in the top to hold her larger bosom, and more modest at the rear, covering her neat bottom.
Sharon’s gaze travelled slowly from Stephanie's head to her feet and back again, sizing up her opponent while simultaneously trying to unnerve her. “Not bad,” she said finally, with a thin smile. “Fucking your way through the local football team must be a good way to keep fit.” Her smile broadened as the sneer left Stephanie's face, then she turned away and finished getting ready for the fight.
Sharon and I were dressed in matching black bikinis, almost identical to the one Stephanie wore except for the color. Actually, they both belonged to Sharon – she lent mine to me since we’re both the same height, and within a few pounds of one another in weight. I still thought it was a size too small, but Sharon reckoned I would need a snug fit when fighting. “Make sure you tie the top nice and tight,”she had warned me before we left the flat that morning. “There's nothing more distracting than your boob popping out at the wrong moment.”
“All right,” said Carol brightly. “It's time to start. Sharon and Stephanie, why don't you two go first?”
Sharon almost leapt off the couch, definitely ready to take on the teenager. Carol gave Stephanie a few whispered words of encouragement, then kissed her on the cheek and patted her on her bottom. The girl stepped onto the mat, adjusting her bikini slightly as she did so. “Get ready for pain, you cheap whore,” she spat at Sharon. “I'm going to destroy you.”
I remained on the couch to watch, crossing my legs under me as, with a scream that echoed around the spacious room, Stephanie ran at Sharon and leapt into the air, wrapping her legs around my sister and riding her heavily to the mat. I held my breath for a few tense moments before Sharon managed to twist herself free and regain her feet, circling her opponent as Stephanie rose first to one knee and then cautiously stood up, never taking her eyes off Sharon.
Stephanie pressed her attack again, grabbing Sharon's long chestnut hair with one hand while she tried to punch Sharon in the face with the other. Sharon blocked the punch and twisted Stephanie's arm away, then suddenly the two were toe to toe, hands clasped together as they fought to best each other in a show of sheer strength. They stood like this, straining against one another, for what seemed like several minutes with neither gaining an advantage, before suddenly separating by some mutual, unspoken consent.
They circled one another in the center of the mat, each darting forward to feint at her opponent, looking for an opening. It was my sister who found one first. Dropping to the mat, Sharon swept her right leg around to knock Stephanie's legs out from under her, and the teenager crashed to her back on the mat with a resounding thud. Quickly rising to her knees, Sharon sent a solid punch into the girl's stomach, but it seemed to have little effect. I was impressed. Stephanie might be an evil-tempered little bitch, but there was nothing wrong with her physical condition. I knew what it was like to be punched by my sister, and the blow must have hurt, but Stephanie shrugged it off and snapped a kick into Sharon's shoulder that knocked her backward.
Both women leapt to their feet but Stephanie, surprisingly, was a little quicker. The teenager pounced on my sister and wrapped her arm around Sharon's neck, trapping her in a headlock. The two waltzed around the mat briefly, locked together like that, before Stephanie managed to spin Sharon around and turn the relatively harmless headlock into a much more dangerous choke hold. Sharon struggled against the attack by reaching behind her to claw at the teenager's sides with her fingernails, but Stephanie seemed impervious to pain. I began to worry for my sister.
I looked across the room at Carol. She was bouncing up and down on the couch in delight, clapping her hands together gleefully as though she was seeing her daughter compete at a school sports day, instead of watching her fighting tooth and nail against a very dangerous opponent – and I knew that Stephanie would have to give her all now, because my sister would be angry at the punishment she was taking, and an angry Sharon is not a pleasant thing to see. I could sympathize with Carol's excitement however. There was an electric thrill in the room that even I could feel, despite my own anxiety and my fear for my sister.
Sharon was facing me, her head bent back as Stephanie tightened her grip around my sister's throat. I could see Sharon's face, eyes tightly shut, teeth clenched, and I knew she was feeling the strain as Stephanie cut off her air supply and bent her spine painfully backward. Sharon was tough, but if you can't breathe, you can't breathe. I was afraid it was over for my sister – not that it mattered that much, since we got paid whether we won or lost, but I hated to see a brat like Stephanie get the better of Sharon. Besides, I didn’t want to think about Sharon's mood in the car on the long drive back to London.
Just when I thought Sharon was about to collapse, she suddenly threw her head back, connecting solidly with Stephanie's face. The girl had her head turned slightly to one side, so the head-butt missed her nose, but the blow loosened her hold and Sharon dropped down a little before tilting her head back and springing straight up. There was a loud crack as the top of Sharon's head crashed into Stephanie's chin, snapping the girl's teeth shut. Stephanie staggered, blood oozing from her mouth where she had bitten her lower lip, and her grip slackened further. Sharon repeated the maneuver, dropping lower still before driving her head up under the teenager's chin with even more force than before. This time Stephanie's head snapped back and she let go of Sharon's neck.
I expected Sharon to break away and put some distance between her and her opponent while she regained her breath, but instead she spun and threw her arms around Stephanie's body in a bear hug, jumping upward and forward to drive the other girl backward to the mat. This had the advantage of pinning Stephanie beneath Sharon, my sister's weight knocking the wind out of her, but perhaps Sharon was still a little disoriented from the prolonged choke hold and jumped too high, because she herself crashed face-first to the floor.
Sharon rolled off Stephanie and rose to her feet, holding her head with one hand and shaking it, obviously seeing stars from the impact with the mat as she took a few unsteady steps backward. Stephanie was slower to rise, her face pinched as she obviously failed to shake off the effects of my sister's latest attack like she had the earlier ones. Nevertheless, she was the first to recover. With a couple of quick steps to gain momentum, she buried her toes in the pit of Sharon's stomach with brutal force, knocking Sharon backward with an audible whoosh of escaping air. I heard Carol clap her hands together again in delight.
Sharon staggered and I thought she would fall, but she caught her balance just in time. Stephanie followed her though, and snapped a second, more powerful kick into Sharon's midriff. My sister sagged and sank to her knees, holding her injured stomach with both arms crossed in front of her as she gasped for breath. Stephanie's third kick was right to Sharon's face and she went over backwards as a fountain of blood erupted from her nose, forgetting her stomach and clasping both hands to her face, her legs bent uncomfortably backward beneath her.
The contest was clearly over. All the fight had gone out of Sharon. Stephanie could have dropped onto my sister and pinned her there and then, but to my horrified amazement, she leapt high in the air and landed with both feet on Sharon's exposed mid-section. Sharon's head and feet both catapulted up off the floor, accompanied by a high-pitched shriek of pain, the first cry my sister had uttered since the start of the fight. Still on her feet, the demonic teenager leapt into the air again, this time landing with her knees on Sharon's chest, eliciting another tortured scream.
Sharon lay writhing on the mat, gasping for air, clutching herself. I knew I should intervene, that Stephanie had gone way beyond what was reasonable, but I was unable to move, transfixed by the horror of what I was watching, and perhaps, I hated to admit, by fear of this wild thing that was hammering my sister like nothing I’d ever seen before. Sharon is tough and she seldom cries, but there were tears of pain streaming down her face. I was crying too, partly for her pain, partly from my own anguish at being too appalled to step in and stop the teenage hellion.
Standing astride her victim, the girl dropped heavily onto Sharon's belly and began punching her in the ribs, boobs and face. Sharon's arms flapped weakly, but she put up no real resistance as Stephanie pounded on her, snapping her head from side to side with rapid blows of her fists. This went on for several minutes that seemed like hours, before Stephanie seemed to grow bored and stood up. Grabbing Sharon by her hair, she hauled her back to her knees, then stepped behind her and wrapped an arm around her neck in a choke hold once more. She lifted slightly, pulling Sharon up off her knees so that she was almost hanging by her neck from Stephanie's arms, her own weight making the choke hold even worse. The teenager dragged Sharon around to face her mother, then locked her other arm behind Sharon's neck to secure her hold. Falling backward, she wrapped her legs around Sharon's injured lower abdomen, squeezing and stretching my sister's body painfully as she simultaneously pulled upward and backward with her arms to tighten the choke hold even further. Sharon squirmed desperately as the pain gave her renewed vigour, but she was unable to free herself. I could see her face as Stephanie bent her head back and twisted it to one side, and I watched helplessly as her bloody features went red and then slowly began to turn blue, her mouth wide open in a silent rictus of agony. I cried out in anguish and fear, though I have no idea what, if anything, I said. I stamped my feet on the floor, wanting to intervene but powerless to move, terrified by the sheer brutality of Stephanie's assault.
Stephanie's face was twisted into an ugly mask, and she screamed into Sharon's ear. “I told you I'd kick your fucking ass, didn't I, you cheap whore?” she shrieked, her voice cracking from the sadistic frenzy that gripped her. “How do you like it, whore?” The teenager looked over to her mother, who was now squatting in front of the couch, staring intently at the pair on the mat. Carol nodded and Stephanie spoke again. “Give up, bitch, or I'll break your useless neck!” She jerked Sharon's head sideways to punctuate her words, and I was afraid she might really carry out her threat. There was no response from Sharon, though her face was almost purple now.
The teenager relaxed the pressure on Sharon's neck slightly, allowing a little air into her starved lungs, and her chest heaved. I almost cried again with relief that she was still alive. ‘Come on, you stupid slut! Do you want me to kill you? Your arms are free. If you want to quit, slap the floor three times.”
Again there was no response. “Do it, Sharon!” I screamed at her, terrified now that my sister's pride would kill her, convinced that Stephanie wouldn’t baulk at choking her to death. The teenage demon was utterly inhuman in her savagery.
At last Sharon's right hand lifted slightly and slapped the canvas mat once, then again. There was a pause, then she slapped the mat a third time before her arm went limp. Stephanie threw her aside and got to her feet. There was a look on her face that I recognised as triumph mingled with a trace of disappointment, and I realised she’d been quite ready to continue tormenting my sister for as long as she could. She caught my eye and smiled cruelly, before striding over to the far side of the room, where the towels and water bottles stood on the table. She twisted the top off a bottle and drank deeply.
Sharon lay unmoving on her back, her chest heaving as the awful purple colour of her face subsided. I grabbed a water bottle and rushed to her side to see what I could do for her. As I knelt at her side, I saw Carol approaching out of the corner of my eye. “She'll be okay, Donna,” she said in a business-like voice. “Here, take this.”
It struck me as strange that she could be so kind, yet could take such delight in watching her sadistic daughter attack my sister. Without looking up, I finished opening the water bottle and reached out my hand to take whatever she was offering, while concentrating on dribbling water into Sharon's slack, open mouth.
“Thanks, Ca...” I began, but suddenly there was an explosion in my head, and I found myself flying over my sister's prone body and rolling across the mat. There was a loud ringing in my ears, and I could see nothing except a kaleidoscope of swirling colours. In panic I realised that Stephanie must have attacked me from behind – the very thing I’d feared, but forgotten about in my fear for Sharon.
I knew I had to move, to get up and defend myself, but my limbs wouldn’t function. I lay sprawled on the mat, trying to focus my eyes, and felt myself being rolled over onto my back. I shook my head, and the glass ceiling came fuzzily into view. I hoped I’d be able to get up in a moment, but then a tremendous wave of pain rushed through my body, and I felt all the air exhaust itself from my lungs as something heavy crashed hard onto my belly. Punches rained down, concentrating on my boobs, and I screamed out loud from the pain and the shock. Nobody had ever hit me there before, and the pain was terrible.
Suddenly the blows stopped, and the weight left my body. Perhaps my screams had helped to clear my head, because my vision was better now and I could see someone standing over me, though I couldn’t see well enough to determine who it was. I felt my legs being lifted off the floor, raised until my feet were pointing straight up in the air. I tried to kick myself free, but my limbs still refused to obey me, and my legs were spread wide, painfully far apart. I looked down, my vision still blurred, and I could see a foot, and a leg, raised above me. Then the foot fell, and I thought the sun had exploded inside my body.
The pain was unbelievable, a searing agony that burned through every part of me. I heard the sound of screaming, but it took me a few seconds to realise that it was me. Someone had kicked me in the groin, deliberately and accurately aiming right for my clit, hitting it like a ten-penny nail. My privates felt like they had been crushed, and I was helpless with pain. Unable to move or even to think, I just lay there and continued to scream.
After a while, I recovered enough to be aware of my surroundings. I lay flat on my back, still in more pain than I’d ever experienced in my life. I still couldn’t make my limbs move. I could hardly breathe, and waves of nausea washed over me, but at least I’d managed to stop screaming.
Carol stood over me, holding a rolled white towel, a water bottle and one of the white jars I’d seen on the table earlier. She put the things down on the mat, a short way away, and knelt beside me. In her soft, pleasant voice she said, “I'm sorry, Donna, but you made a big mistake.”
I wondered what she meant by that, but my mind was too numbed for me to ask, and I was unsure I could trust my voice in any case. Carol didn’t say anything more, but grabbed me by the shoulder and hip, rolled me onto my stomach and crawled up onto my back. I felt her pull at the shoestring straps that held my bikini top in place, releasing the knots that tied them behind my neck and between my shoulder blades. Then she pulled the top out from under me.
Twisting my arms up behind my back, she tied my wrists together with my own bikini top. Lying on my stomach, my face half-covered by my hair, I couldn’t see what was going on, and panicked visions crept into my mind of what might be about to happen to me and my sister. I tossed my head in an ineffective attempt to clear my hair off my face so that I could locate Sharon, but I could not see her from my trapped position.
Carol stood up and grabbed my ankles. Despite my fear, I was surprised by her strength as she dragged me backwards on my stomach across the mat. The rough canvas scraped harshly at the sensitive skin of my boobs, but compared to the pain I already felt, it was no more than a mild discomfort.
She dropped my legs, and I wriggled awkwardly onto my side, in time to see her stick her hand down into the juncture between two panels of the blue mat, and pull out a silver metal ring, with a chain that disappeared back into the seam. After that I could see no more as Carol rolled me forcefully onto my other side, and pulled on my bound arms to position me. I wanted to plead with her, beg her to let me go, but I was simply too frightened to speak.
I tossed my head again, this time managing to flick my hair out of my eyes, and then I saw Sharon. She lay on her stomach, some yards away, her arms tied behind her back with her bikini top in the same manner as my own. Her legs were drawn up beneath her chest, bound in some complicated fashion with the white cord that had previously been used to hold the pyramid of rolled towels. Her head rested on the floor, facing away from me so that I could not see her face properly, but a smear of blood ran across her cheek and down her neck. She was naked and, from my vantage point, completely exposed, though I guessed that in her present state, she was beyond any consideration of modesty, even if she was conscious of her nakedness.
“You forgot the rules,” said Carol, still in that same bright, conversational tone. She was behind me, and I could feel her tugging at the straps of my bikini that bound my arms, but I couldn’t see her and didn’t know whether she was addressing me or Sharon, or both of us. “Remember, the first rule is that the match isn't over until there is a ten-count, or a climax. Stephanie hadn't pinned you, Sharon, so your match was still under way.” She pulled again at my arms, and I realised she was using my bikini straps to tether me to the silver ring attached to the floor. “As for you, Donna, you know you shouldn't have stepped onto the mat until the first match had ended. I'm sorry that I kicked you in the head from behind like that, but I really had no choice. I couldn't let you help Sharon until her match was officially over. That would have been against the rules.” She stood up and stepped over me, then crossed the room to the door and turned the key in the lock. “Come in, dear.”
I craned my neck to see Tony walk into the room, a video cam-corder hanging by a strap from his shoulder. He looked at Sharon and me, and smiled broadly. “Well done, girls,” he said, hugging Carol to him. Stephanie was standing at the edge of the mat, and she stepped into the embrace of his other arm. “You sorted them out in double-quick time.”
“Did you watch, Dad?” asked Stephanie, in a totally different voice to the banshee scream she had used when taunting Sharon a few minutes ago. “Did you see me kick her right in the face?”
“I watched it all on the monitor in the other room,” he replied, and kissed her lightly on the forehead. “You did well, sweetheart.” Stephanie beamed at him, and I was shocked at the transformation in her, from a sadistic assailant bent on blood, to daddy's little girl, eager for his approval.
Tony stood over Sharon and regarded her for a moment, then turned his eyes to me. I was acutely conscious of my bare breasts, and afraid of what he was going to do. Nightmare visions kept creeping into my mind, and I fought to force them out again. “Poor Donna,” Tony said with a mocking smile. “It seems your match started without you.” He chuckled, a pleasant but incongruous sound. “Looks like it finished without you, too.”
Carol smiled, but Stephanie laughed loudly at his joke and kicked Sharon in the side. My sister didn't make a sound, nor did she move beyond a slight rocking despite the force of the blow, and I realized that she was fastened to a ring in the floor in such a way that she was almost completely immobilized.
Tony unslung the cam-corder from his shoulder, and walked over to the far corner, away from where the fixed camera stood on its tripod. “Now it's time for the spoils to go to the victors.” He looked at his wife, then his daughter. “Family, let the fun begin.”
Stephanie was the first to act, leaping forward and landing heavily on Sharon's back, still without a response. She spun around, facing my sister's upraised bottom, and gazed over her shoulder to speak to Sharon. “You're going to suffer now, bitch!” she said with evident relish. From my position, and to my renewed horror, I saw her reach down between Sharon's legs, and her forefinger disappeared between the folds of my sister's vulva. The teenager twisted her hand from the wrist, twirling her finger inside Sharon, this time drawing a long moan from my sister's lips. Stephanie inserted a second finger, then a third, and continued to maul Sharon, eliciting a series of tortured grunts that slowly grew into audible cries of pain. The girl's face cracked into an evil smile and she jabbed her fingers into Sharon until half of her hand disappeared as well, then jerked her fingers out, clawing at Sharon's insides. Sharon let out a shriek that chilled my blood, and struggled impotently against her bonds, while Stephanie threw back her head and laughed aloud. She then repeated the move again, and yet again, working her hand around inside Sharon, savouring the screams of torment that echoed around the room.
Carol had been silent while her daughter tortured my sister, sitting astride my hips and holding me down through it all. She now rose and I felt her slip her fingers under the bottom of my bikini, pulling it down my legs and tossing it aside. It suddenly dawned on me that she was about to do to me what Stephanie was doing to Sharon, and I began to scream and thrash about in panic.
Carol leaned over me again. “Donna, you ought to shut up and save your voice for when it counts, dear,” she said reprovingly. “I haven't even begun yet.”
My panic escalated, but I lost my overwhelming desire to scream and just lay there, whimpering incoherently as Sharon's cries echoed in my ears. Carol seated herself behind my back and began to play with my bottom, rubbing my cheeks, then spreading them and dragging her nails teasingly over my ass. I was sweating like a pig, trembling all over and crying uncontrollably. I wanted to pull away from her, but I was afraid to struggle too much. I knew that I was defenseless, and I feared what she might do if I made her angry with me.
There was a renewed scream from Sharon, and I jerked my head around to see Stephanie forcing one of the water bottles into Sharon's upraised ass, amid screams of agonized protest. The bottles were almost a foot long, several inches in diameter and ribbed like a piece of corn on the cob. The teenage demon shoved it forcibly into Sharon, then withdrew it a little before ramming it in even further, repeating the torment as more and more of the bottle disappeared into my sister's anus.
Sharon's tortured screams drowned out my own cries, and I felt myself sinking into wild panic again. When Carol leaned over me and reached for the water bottle and the white jar that lay on the mat beside my knees, that was the last straw. I knew she was about to ravage my ass with that bottle, and I begged her to stop, not to hurt me. I knew I was a complete coward and I felt ashamed of myself, but I couldn't stop crying. I was so frightened that I couldn’t even breathe. When I felt her hands spread my buttocks again, I fainted.
I was unsure how long I was out, but I awoke to find myself on my back. I still hurt all over, but I couldn’t identify any new sources of pain. My arms were still pinned behind me though, and now my legs were bent back uncomfortably, my knees spread and my feet on either side of my hips. With an effort I raised my head a little and looked around.
Stephanie was still torturing Sharon, laughing at her continued moans of pain. Carol sat between my knees, watching with an absurdly proud smile. Tony stood in the corner, still filming.
Sharon was on her back too now, in a similar position to my own. The water bottle still protruded from her anus, and another stuck out from between the stretched lips of her womanhood. Stephanie stood astride her. “Hey Dad!” Get this on video!” she called out and, jumping up, landed on Sharon's belly with both knees. Sharon gave a tortured gasp, with no breath left to scream, and there was an audible pop as the bottle in her ass flew out and rolled across the mat.
Stephanie giggled. “Good shot, hey?” She stood up and did it again. The bottle in Sharon's vagina moved slightly, but didn't come out, and the smile left Stephanie's face. “You bitch!” she scolded the sobbing Sharon. “You're just trying to spoil my fun!” She kicked Sharon hard in the kidneys.
There was something lying beneath my bottom now, probably one of the rolled towels. It occurred to me that all of these bottles, towels and jars were here just for this purpose. This family had obviously victimized other women in this fashion in the past. The entire fight was a setup, just a prelude to the present torture session. I wondered if they were going to kill us, but strangely I wasn’t so frightened of that. At least the pain would stop.
Carol rose to her hands and knees and crawled up between my legs. She leaned over my chest and pinched the peak of my left breast, surprisingly gently, then bent her head to suck on it while she pinched and pulled the other one. Despite my terror, I felt my nipples harden, and I shivered when she moved her mouth to my other breast, alternately kissing and gently biting. After the pain I’d suffered, the feeling was strangely comforting, and for an instant I forgot where I was and gave in to the pure sensuality of Carol's attentions. I let out an involuntary gasp, and immediately felt a rush of self-contempt, that I could moan with pleasure while my sister screamed in pain, not ten feet away. I began to cry with shame.
Lifting her head, Carol smiled at me. “Calm down, dear,” she murmured. “It'll be over soon.” She moved down my body, kissing my breasts again, then running her tongue gently over the skin of my chest and belly until she dipped her head between my legs. She inserted a finger, and I immediately panicked once again, fearing she was going to tear at my insides the way Stephanie had mauled my sister. I could feel her finger twisting inside me, opening me wider, and I began to buck my hips, trying feebly and uselessly to pull away as I pleaded with her between anguished sobs. I was certain that I’d never have children, and maybe never walk again after she finished clawing me with those white nails of hers.
I screamed loudly as a cold jet of water squirted into me. Carol laughed as she lifted her head to hover over me once more. “You were getting out of hand again,” she said with a smile. “There's nothing for you to worry about. I'm not going to hurt you.” She looked across to where Stephanie was still taking her own vicious enjoyment from my sister. “I get my fun in a different way to my daughter. Now just lie still and let me finish.”
I could hear Sharon moaning and crying, but she hadn’t screamed out loud for a while. I could hear water sloshing around, but with my head back against the canvas I couldn’t see what was going on. I could have lifted my head to look, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. Whatever Stephanie was doing to my sister, there was nothing I could do about it.
Carol removed the lid from the white jar, dipped her fingers in and scooped out a handful of white cream. She wiped it all over me between my legs. It was very cold but not unpleasant, particularly since my crotch still ached from the stomping I’d received earlier. She rubbed me firmly but gently. The cold cream soothed my damaged groin, and comfort quickly turned to arousal. Carol stopped for a moment and wiped the excess cream over her fingers and hand before she dipped a finger into me once more, then another, then a third.
For a moment I was afraid again that she was going to claw my insides out, but I choked back the fear and concentrated on the pleasurable sensations that radiated outward from my belly as Carol inserted a fourth finger inside me. She twisted her fingers around one another, and I gasped. I felt an incredible feeling of fullness, uncomfortable but so good that I began to undulate my hips against her hand. She pressed harder, and it suddenly dawned on me that she planned to stick that big hand of hers completely inside me. Just then she did so, and I screamed, but from pleasure rather than pain.
Carol pumped her hand in and out of me very rapidly, at the same time squeezing my clit with the fingers of her other hand. I could feel the waves of excitement building inside me. I felt terribly ashamed at myself, but the feelings were so good I couldn’t bring myself to object. Even if I did, there was nothing I could do to stop her, trussed up like I was. It seemed like only seconds before I came, an earth-shaking, tidal wave of orgasms that crashed one upon another, leaving me dizzy and shaking all over.
Carol leaned over me. “There now, that wasn't so bad, was it?” she said with a smile, and kissed me on the mouth. I didn’t respond to the kiss, but I didn’t resist either. She reached beneath my back and released me from the ring in the floor, so I could roll onto my side and straighten my cramped legs. “I'm sorry, dear, but I'll have to keep your hands tied until Stephanie finishes with young Sharon,” she warned me regretfully. “Their match still isn't officially over, and we don't want you to break the rules again, do we?”
I’d forgotten Sharon in my relief at my own ordeal's end, but now I tried to sit up so I could see her properly. Carol took my shoulders and helped me up, and I looked across at my sister. She lay on her back just as I’d last seen her, while Stephanie sat on her belly and rammed one of the water bottles in and out of her ravaged twat. I couldn’t see Sharon's face but I heard the strangled grunts and sharp cries that accompanied each inward thrust of the bottle. Tony squatted next to them, his eye glued to the viewfinder of his video camera as he filmed the obscene spectacle.
It occurred to me again that this was all a set-up, that they’d lured Sharon and me here just to torment us. I wondered how many other girls they’d brought here for the same purpose, refining their techniques with long practice over time. All my anger and loathing returned again, along with a renewed disgust for myself as I thought about the pleasant tingling that lingered in my own belly. I swore that I’d never again let myself get into such a position – never again. A new trail of tears rolled down my cheeks.
It took another fifteen minutes or so for Stephanie to finish with Sharon. It wasn’t a pleasant sight, and several times I had to close my eyes. When she grew tired of the bottle, Stephanie threw it aside and jumped on her victim's belly several times for fun, then she freed Sharon's legs, lifted her ankles high and spread them wide before she stomped on my sister's devastated loins several times with the heel of her foot. Sharon screamed the first time, but she was lost in a sea of pain by now and nothing the girl could do to her would elicit much more of a response. Stephanie obviously realized this, and she cursed Sharon loudly and colourfully.
The teenager crossed to the table and grabbed a fresh bottle of water. Tearing the top from it as she strode back to Sharon, she tipped the cold water over my sister's face. “Wake up, you gutless whore!'” She dropped to her knees beside Sharon, and pulled my sister’s head up by the hair. Now I could see Sharon's face, smears of blood running from her nose and the corners of her mouth, across both cheeks. Her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen from constant crying, and she stared groggily into Stephanie's malevolent gaze. “This is the last one, and I want you to feel every moment of it,” laughed Stephanie, dropping Sharon's head back to the mat.
Taking the white jar that Carol had used on me, she greased Sharon's ass crack liberally before pressing her fingertips into a point and driving them hard up into my sister's anus, thrusting again and again until her hand disappeared up to the wrist in her Sharon's ass. I should have been beyond shock by this time, but it appalled me anew when I saw the muscles in the teenager's arm flex as she clenched her fist inside Sharon and swivelled her wrist around with a smile of perverted amusement while Sharon screamed and writhed about like a demented glove puppet.
I was sobbing miserably again now, struggling against the straps that still bound my wrists, knowing it was useless and not knowing what I would do in the event I did manage to free myself. Finally Carol looked at me, then at Stephanie and said, “Sweetheart, it's time.”
Stephanie looked disappointed, the same sort of look you see on the face of a child who has been told it's time to go home from the seaside. With obvious reluctance she pulled her hand out of Sharon, clawing at her anus as she did so. Standing up, she gathered Sharon's feet together and lifted them up toward Sharon's shoulders, pressing down to bend my sister double. “Pin,” she said in a surly voice.
Carol counted to ten, and it was over. Stephanie let Sharon's legs drop to the mat, then bent over my sister and slapped her hard across the face, back and forth, spattering her with the tan-coloured filth that covered her hand. Then she laughed. “See ya, whore!” she said, wiping the remaining cream over Sharon's swollen, blood-smeared face. “Call us if you ever want a rematch.”
TO BE CONTINUED...
