 | The dressing room was her sanctuary. It was a personal refuge away from the rest of the world; an inviolable space that belonged to her and no one else. It was here that she could prepare herself physically and mentally for the battle ahead.
Taking stock of her surroundings, Erica Ellis couldn't help but notice how different this particular dressing room was from the norm. Her four walls were not made of wood, sheetrock, or concrete, but of thin fabric; there was also no floor beneath her feet, and she instead found herself sinking her toes into warm beach sand. The cabana tent was approximately the size of a small bedroom, but more than adequate for her purposes. Its white cloth material, while opaque enough to provide her with privacy from prying eyes outside, nonetheless seemed to lighten up under the rays of the hot midday sun.
A gentle breeze brushed along the outer surface of the structure - the taut fabric of the tent rippled with a soft noise for a brief second or two before becoming still and silent again. It was a reminder to Erica of what waited for her outside of its walls. The ocean waters of Playa del Carmen were tranquil and aggressively blue - they'd serve as a lovely backdrop for the afternoon's boxing match. Every now and then the beautiful young blonde could hear the sound of the guests that had been invited to come see the fight - the patrons of the resort fighting circuit were always a refined, well-to-do sort of crowd. In the distance, only a few hundred feet away, Erica knew that there was a ring set up for her - in that ring would be waiting a formidable opponent who would test every aspect of her mind and body.
The first opponent since Lily... |
For the time being, however, she did not need to burden herself with such concerns. The contest at hand was looming over the horizon, but she still had a few more minutes of peace. Physically, Erica was as magnificent as ever as she sat on a wooden bench in the center of the enclosed space - her peak form was on full display in her newest fighting attire. The outfit was a blue string bikini, solid-colored and cerulean in shade, with a metallic finish that was sure to gleam in the afternoon light. Her mind seemed to dwell on that fact as she flexed her fingers, clenching and unclenching her black boxing gloves as they rested in her lap. She'd grown quite attached to the previous pink swimsuit that she'd lost in the aftermath of her last match; there wasn't another in the world that made her look better. Deep down, however, she knew that there was more to it than that. The obvious question on everyone's mind would be whether or not this latest bikini would
share the fate of her last. The butterflies were always there, but despite telling herself that, they seemed to linger far longer than she would have cared for this time around.
A soft pair of hands took one of Erica's shoulders and then the other. These belonged to
Whitney Morgan, one of the blonde's seconds, who was standing behind her charge. Erica closed her eyes as her cornergirl's adroit palms and fingers began to massage her trapezius muscles, relaxing as the physical tension seemed to melt from her body. Whitney's last name belied her Italian heritage; though practically identical in age and size, her jet black shoulder-length hair set her in stark contrast to the blonde. She was not as well-endowed as Erica, but was certainly no slouch in that department either. The black triangle bikini top and matching boy cut shorts that she wore was a slightly more demure choice of attire than Erica's fighting bikini, but that was not to say that the brunette was not an eye-catching sight: Whitney was a sultry beauty in her own right and was more than capable of holding her own in terms of looks even side by side with the blonde. Ever-eager in temperament, always supportive, and intensely loyal: Whitney was the ideal lady-in-waiting if ever there was one.
The brunette's feet padded across the sand with the gracefulness of a cat as she came around to the other side of the bench to face Erica. Kneeling down in front of the blonde, Whitney reached out and gently grasped the bikini's top right strap with one hand, while the fingers of the other took hold of the cup on the same side. She made a few careful adjustments, making sure that the swimsuit's positioning met with her impeccable standards. Reaching upwards, Whitney's hands then found their way to Erica's blonde tresses, which she primped just a little bit - a few minor touches here and there were all that were needed to achieve the look that she thought framed Erica's lovely face in just the right way.
"There," Whitney remarked with a cheerful smile and a certain sense of satisfaction, "All perfect now."
"You do know that the top will likely be gone and that my hair will be a mess by the time the fight's done, right?" Erica asked in response.
"But now you'll look magnificent fighting in it," the brunette replied with confidence. She took the blonde's head in her hands, caressing her cheeks with sisterly affection. "What are you going to do to her?"
"I'm gonna fuck her up," Erica answered.
"That's my girl."
She might be a bit of a Pollyanna and was probably loyal to a fault, but if there was any one person who the blonde would rather have than be without, it would certainly be the junior of her two cornergirls.
Except that wasn't quite true this time, was it? Today Whitney would be the second of three...
As if on cue, Erica was brought out of her idle musings by the sound of the tent's entrance zipper being pulled open. Two ladies stepped inside to join their small group, one of whom she knew and one that she didn't. The former was her trainer,
Aimee Holbrooke - she was an elegant blonde about ten years Erica's senior; her lithe figure and refined mannerisms masked the pure fighter's heart and instincts within her. Dressed in attire matching Whitney's, she was a splendid sight by any measure. Accompanying her was a Hispanic girl closer to Erica's age - she was petite, brown-haired with blonde highlights, and wore a skimpy red bikini. Though definitely sexy in her appearance, the newcomer seemed a bit demure. She kept her place by the entrance while Aimee approached - this new girl seemed impassively detached from the other three ladies, yet at the same time maintained her station in the manner befitting someone trained and cultivated as a servitor. Perhaps this girl was on staff with the local resort hosting the match?
Erica's thoughts were interrupted by the older blonde reaching out and placing a calm hand on her shoulder. It was a firm touch that commanded the young fighter's attention, but simultaneously felt reassuring.
"It's time. This is what we've been training for. I know you're prepared for it," Aimee exclaimed. There wasn't a trace of uncertainty in her words.
"She said she's going to fuck the other girl up!" Whitney chimed in exuberantly.
Erica smiled softly at the brunette's words. The completely unnecessary exclamation seemed to lift the tension in the air, even if only briefly. The young blonde typically did not seek to hide her feelings from her compatriots, but today the doubts and apprehensions seemed to be weighing down on her more heavily. The stakes today would be high - not just in terms of the effect that a second major loss in a row would have on her career, but also what she stood to gain if she won. One way or another, this afternoon would be a defining moment for her.
Erica's response was brief: "I'm ready."
"Good," Aimee replied, "Let me introduce the last member of our team for today. Raquel?"
The young Mexican stepped forward at Aimee's beckoning. "
Raquel Vasquez, at your service. I am to be your
arenadora this afternoon."
"Glad to have you here," Erica said in return. She extended her right glove, which the other girl clasped with both hands in an awkward sort of handshake.
"
La Reina is a formidable opponent. She will test you on the sand today," Raquel continued, "But I am confident that it will be you that prevails."
The blonde's mind lingered on the words of her newest follower. The resort circuit had a long and well-established history, going nearly as far back as the oldest organized femme fighting Stateside. Foxy boxing was no exception to this, but over the decades it had developed its own unique characteristics that set it apart from the fare found to the north. One could almost think of
Las Reglas de la Playa as a case of divergent evolution that catered to jet-set desires and tropical sensibilities.
The first and most obvious example was the venue itself: what better way to make use of the prime real estate than to set up a ring directly in the sand? That one single design choice had a host of repercussions that affected the entire tenor of the fight. Compared to a canvas surface, sand was an impediment to mobility, and prevented a boxer from maneuvering or dancing to any serious degree. And while that might preclude a talented out-fighter from ever making a serious foray into the beach scene, it conversely encouraged the type of slugging that a wealthy tourist would be paying to see. All in all, there was a strong sense that the resort circuit was a territorial affair - to claim a beach from her rival, a woman had to literally fight for the very sand she stood upon. To be sure, boxing matches in more traditional rings could still be found at these locales, but these had long ago become far less prevalent.
Despite its sensual look and feel, foxy boxing by and large conformed to the structure of a regular boxing match: three-minute rounds punctuated by one-minute breaks. The only typical allowance was that there was no limit on the number of rounds, which meant that a fight would only end with a knockout or when a girl quit on her stool. In contrast, a round in a beach boxing match continued for an indefinite length of time until a fighter scored a knockdown. The steady accumulation of sand on a fighters' sweaty skin and gloves was a potential hazard, but the solution was a novel addition to the ruleset: the downed fighter was required to stand during the break while a second in Raquel's position - a sand girl, in English parlance - used a hand towel to clean her off above the knee. Such an arrangement was not without its perils: a downed fighter could not otherwise be tended to until the sand girl's task was complete, while the fighter who scored the knockdown benefited from a full rest period. This fact, combined with the sweltering heat and long periods of combat, meant that a single knockdown could potentially snowball into a serious detriment. Given the ease with which a fighter could wither under the hot sun, such a venue was not for the faint of heart.
Would the beach prove to be too daunting of a challenge for the young blonde? Erica took a deep breath as she rose to her feet and put those thoughts aside.
"I'm ready," she repeated - the words were as much for her own benefit as they were for those around her.
Stepping out of the tent, Erica could feel the warmth of the sun's rays on her skin. the heat almost felt comforting as it radiated through her, though she suspected that she'd think otherwise once she got into the thick of things with her opponent. To her left was the ocean, tranquil and turquoise; to her right was an interspersed string of palm trees and cabanas that separated the beach from the nearby resort. All ahead of her was a flat and wide expanse of light-colored sand - Erica could already see the ring waiting for her in the distance.
It was a brisk walk of about two hundred feet, with Aimee leading the way and Whitney and Raquel bringing up the rear. The ocean breeze was gentle as it caressed Erica's body, almost inviting her to forget about the violence waiting for her several paces ahead. She could see an audience of about two or three dozen gathered around the ring, mainly on its inland side. There didn't seem to be any stands or bleachers set up, which seemed to indicate that there would be standing room only for the spectators. Given the proximity that this entailed for optimal viewing, this meant that her arena would be a much more intimate venue than the typical fight club that Erica was accustomed to. As she got closer, she also noticed that the ring had a three-rope setup with individual pads for each turnbuckle. Aesthetically, it seemed to harken back to the style of boxing rings from the 1940s or 50s and further emphasized the otherworldly nature of the beach ring and its traditions.
Heads were starting to turn as Erica made her approach, increasing in number as more and more people caught sight of her. Judging by their reactions, her bikini must have made her look like a brilliant blue topaz, gleaming in the afternoon light as she strode down the beach towards them. Despite whatever apprehensions she may previously have had, the blonde nonetheless put on a well-practiced smile as she finally approached the ring - it was just a simple little smirk, but it radiated confidence and oozed of sensuality far beyond its measure. The spectators were a small coterie of polo shirts and bikinis, definitely quite well-to-do in their means - their applause was restrained as she slid through the ropes, but enthusiastic enough to let Erica know that she'd won them over. Raising her arms proudly, she began a slow and sexy strut around the rings perimeter, putting every toned muscle and luscious curve on display. A few sharp whistles rang out as she sashayed across the sand, but Erica paid them no heed - her nonchalance only added to her sultry mystique.
It took the blonde about a minute to make a full circuit. Returning to her corner, she leaned back against the turnbuckles and rested her arms on the top ropes almost casually as she waited for her opponent to make her entrance. The many shades of anticipation were familiar - the desire to meet the other woman, the eagerness to fight, the worries over the outcome - Erica closed her eyes and took a deep breath to center herself. The crowd had quieted to a low murmur that mingled ambiently with the sounds of the ocean. The blonde wondered idly about the degree to which these men and women were familiar with her fight history. Surely, though, they recognized exceptional beauty and fighting prowess when they saw it.
Erica's eyes opened as the audience's voices began to rise once again. Looking across the beach on the other side of the ring, she could see a figure marching resolutely towards her.
La Reina had arrived.
Sara Hernandez looked regal as she approached the ring. No other word came to Erica's mind as she laid eyes on her opponent for the first time in person. It was not just a matter of her beauty, world-class though it may be. Rather, there was something about the way she carried herself, something subtly evoked in every movement of her body, that demanded the undivided attention of those around her and captured the imagination in a way that the young blonde didn't think was possible. At 5'2, Sara was two inches shorter than her challenger; by all accounts she weighed less than Erica's 110 pounds, but was probably within five. Perhaps her most eye-catching physical features were her breasts, a hulking pair of 34Ds that were easily the equal of Erica's rival chest. In her mid-thirties, Sara was roughly a decade and a half older than her opponent; with her black shoulder-length hair and olive skin, she was an attractive contrast to the norteamericana she now faced. Sara's choice of attire was a white halter-style bikini with black gloves - the broad neck straps made her top look sturdy for battle, though its string connection between the cups suggested that wilder sensibilities were at play.
This beach was the crown jewel of what had once been a mighty empire. It had been a decade since Sara began her fighting career here on these sands - her rise to prominence was swift, and by the end of her first year she'd evicted the territory's previous claimant and set up her own hegemony in its place. From there, she turned her attention northward and established herself in the American fight scene with equally shocking speed. For a brief period, Sara was the undisputed mistress of whatever ring, apartment, or beach she sought to make her own. Though she remained a force to be reckoned with over the years, the passing of time had nonetheless taken its toll as her dominance was slowly eroded away by countless battles. Old enemies and new challengers alike sought to claim parts of her vast domain for themselves, slowly but surely wresting one piece after another from her. |  |
Every prize except for this one strip of land that she guarded passionately against all comers, be they her major rivals,
touristas, or would-be usurpers.
It was almost funny, in a way - every young girl who competed on this beach was inevitably jealous of the older queen that lorded over them, and yet they all dreamed of following in the footsteps of her great success. Truth be told, Erica felt a bit of that herself as she watched the older woman slide through the ropes on the other side of the ring. Even despite her age, Sara was every bit a body rival for the younger blonde. The crowd, which only a scant few minutes earlier had cheered so enthusiastically for Erica, now seemed to be bending over backwards in its efforts to fawn over the Mexican as she put herself on display. Sara's accomplishments over years were numerous - her fierce rivalry against Jill Sullivan was legendary enough on its own to secure her legacy - and these spectators, well versed in her history, were automatically showing her a deference that rankled Erica. Sara, in turn, paid no heed to the blonde as she completed a slow parade around the four sides of the ring. Not even the intensity of her challenger's stare following her every movement across the sand seemed to faze her as she basked in the adulation of her gathered subjects.
The two fighters were soon called to midring by the referee. She was a Hispanic woman in her late twenties, somewhat taller than either combatant, and wearing a white monokini with a short grey sarong around her hips. It was only now that Sara turned her attention to her foe. Up close with her opponent for the first time, Erica could see the disdain in the Mexican's eyes as their gazes met. The referee's final instructions, despite being spoken in clear and concise English, seemed to recede into the background when held up against the haughty expression etched on Sara's face. Sara was a proud woman, and very rightly so - every nuanced and minute shift in her posture seemed to radiate out a new and disproportionately intense wave of arrogant presumption.
Erica heard the referee command the two fighters to touch gloves, which prompted Sara to slam hers down brusquely on top of the blonde's. The older woman turned away almost immediately afterwards and sauntered back to her corner as if she dismissed her opponent without another thought. Erica snarled as she watched Sara go, but there was nothing she could do to protest - her only option was to fume in silence as she headed back to her own corner.
"Don't let her get to you," Aimee counseled as she returned, "You'll show her just how serious you are soon enough."
Erica nodded as she took in her trainer's words. It was hard not to be a little bit flustered in the presence of a woman like Sara. But as she turned around to face her opponent on the other side of the ring, she knew that she was as ready as she was ever going to be.
"Stick to our plan," the older woman continued, "I want you give her everything you've got right from the start. Don't let up for a single moment."
"The plan?" Raquel asked inquisitively.
"You'll see," Whitney snarked in response as she slide a mouthpiece in between Erica's lips.
The plan... Erica rolled her shoulders as her thoughts fixated on her course of action at the match's start. She tried to bounce her feet lightly in anticipation of her initial movements, but as expected, the terrain beneath her feet was not going to be doing her any favors. From across the ring, Sara's expression seemed to change for a moment as she cast a piercing glare at the young blonde...
The moment of truth arrived as the metallic clang of the bell rang out across the beach.
Erica was confident and resolute as she left her corner. Despite the effects of the beach's sandy surface on her foot speed, she still felt motivated as she came out and crossed the ring quickly to meet her opponent at its center. For her part, Sara was slower out of the starting gate, but that fact alone was far from telling. After all, Sara was perfectly evolved for an arena such as this, sculpted by natural selection in to an apex predator at the top of the beach venue's ecosystem. Either way, finesse seemed like it would be a low priority for both fighters as they marched straight towards each other.
Erica and Sara locked onto each other's eyes with fierce gazes as they peered at each other from behind raised gloves and as the distance between them rapidly grew smaller. The blonde could see the disdain practically overflowing from the Mexican's body language - was she expecting Erica to be too much of a creampuff to trade punches seriously? Did Sara think that she'd be the type to turn tail and run at the first sign of trouble? Or was she amused at the notion that her naive younger opponent might actually try to make a foolish attempt at standing her ground? The two fighters were now coming together just slightly closer to Sara's corner than Erica's - determined to keep the initiative on her side, the blonde made the first move.
Turning her body to the left, she extended her arm and put every last bit of malicious intent she could into a straight right...
...Which traversed the space between the two fighters in crisscrossed fashion and found its target squarely, impacting heavily against Sara's right breast.
The sound that came from the older woman's lips was unmistakable as it reverberated across the beach. Sara's groan of pain was sharp and short, but it had a tone of anguish to it that Erica found intensely satisfying.
Bet you weren't expecting that, were you?The blonde threw another right hand lead, which this time landed to the outer side of the Mexican's left tit. The blow drew a cringe from the older woman, who was clearly trying not to let on just how much it had harmed her. The blonde's third punch mirrored the second as she snapped a left hook into her opponent's heavy right orb. Sara couldn't contain herself this time - her reaction to this latest blow came in the form of a definite squeal, and a rather plaintive one at that. No encouragement was needed - Erica picked up the pace of her punches and poured herself at opposing rack with malicious vigor.
"What's wrong, bitch?" the blonde taunted gleefully, "Can't take it, huh?"
Erica's lips curled into a devilish grin. She was letting her enthusiasm show a bit more than she probably should have, but at times like this it was hard not to enjoy the work. She loved the way Sara's heavy jugs felt as her fists and black leather violently compressed them against the older woman's chest. She loved how each impact seemed to draw out a new and unique pained expression on the older woman's face. Most importantly of all, however: she loved the way that her punches were backing Sara up.
Much as Erica had suspected, Sara's halter top was proving to be sturdy under such duress - it was thus far doing a commendable job of containing her heavy jugs within its cups despite every best effort by the blonde to knock her out of it. The same could not be said of the Mexican's guard - her arms were still up, but Erica was able to repeatedly punch or wrestle them apart as her fists continued to maraud Sara's tits. However, despite the fervor with which she went after her opponent's hulking rack, Erica didn't let her juglust get the better of her - rather than going for Sara's breasts mindlessly with both hands, each punch she threw was deliberate, methodical, and meant to do significant harm. The blonde landed three punches in rapid succession - two quick right uppercuts followed by a matching left. They drew out the loudest wail yet from Sara's throat - the older woman stumbled forward and wrapped her arms around Erica in a desperate clinch.
Locked up in a tight embrace with her opponent, the blonde savored the sensations of the fight: the hot exhalations of her opponent's breath on the skin of her neck, the sound of her opponent's whiny pouts in her ear, the feeling of their breasts and bellies pressed together between them. She could hear the animated reactions of the normally mild-mannered audience, but the noise felt ambient as her attention focused on the older woman. Erica could feel something in the way Sara writhed and wrestled with her - she could sense a touch of desper4ation seeping into her movements. The blonde confidently pushed with her body, trying to bully the Mexican towards the ropes. Sara was trying to gain some purchase with her footing in the loose sand, but there was none to be found as the younger forced her back against her will.
"I'm taking your tits, Sara," Erica whispered into her opponent's ear, "I'm gonna take everything I want from them."
Her words got Sara to respond - snarling, the older woman planted her feet into the ground and shoved back against her challenger with provoked fury. The two fighters were hopelessly tied up as they wrestled with each other for position, forcing the referee to step in and separate them.
As they were pried apart, Erica saw the expression on Sara's face - there was a look in her eyes that was a mixture of hurt, shock, and outrage. When was the last time a girl had been brazen enough to dive straight into Sara's rack at the start of a fight? How long had it been since someone had been audacious enough to show her such little respect? No one present today could have seen it coming: not the officials, not the spectators, and most of all, not Sara. Erica was beaming as she reveled in her success - her choice of tactics had put the older woman in serious disarray and threatened to turn the round into a rout.
Sara's left hand snapped out as the two women reengaged - Erica winced as the forceful jab stung on impact against her brow. Sara threw another punch, identical to the first, which Erica blocked on her glove. Both knew that these were merely a set up - what the older woman was really looking to do was set up the bashing right hand that she needed to take back initiative from the young upstart. The left flicked out again, but Erica timed the punch precisely and slipped it off of her shoulder. Stepping inside as she did, she hammered Sara's breasts with a vicious left-right pair of hooks - the Mexican howled in agony as the blonde's punches forced her to continue backpedaling.
Erica could see Sara's fury get the better of her for just a single moment. She was determined to make her younger opponent pay for her insolence, and without thinking threw a haymaker right that was meant to take the blonde's head off. Reading it well, Erica beat her to the punch with a shorter left to the chin that put her on her heels. Resetting her hands, Erica jabbed once again and then a second time Sara's right tit. Stepping in, she pounded the Mexican's left breast with her hardest punch thrown yet, a heavy right cross - Sara screamed loudly as she staggered away, looking particularly wounded as her back hit the ropes.
The blonde didn't miss a beat as she landed another left-right combo to Sara's rack, eliciting another tortured groan from the older woman. "Your tits are mine, slut," Erica continued to taunt.
The blonde aimed higher with a stiff left uppercut. The blow toggled Sara's chin and put a noticeable wobble in her legs - she tried to come forward and clinch again, but Erica bodied her back and stacked her up against the strands once more. The blonde's left hook bashed Mexican breast again, yielding a loud wail in response. There was a grim determination in Sara's eyes as she tried to ride out the storm, but she was pushing with her punches as she tried to keep the blonde off of her; every effort to tighten up her guard was undone when a new cuffing blow collided with her hulking jugs.
Erica threw a quick trio of left jabs to Sara's right breast - each one hammered the heavy orb with pounding force. The other woman's eyes went glassy and she groaned in a low voice as the pain seemed to overcome her for a moment. Her hands also seemed to be dropping just a tad - it was an opportunity that the blonde couldn't let slip by her. Erica immediately popped her hips and turned to put her body behind a solid right to the chin. The blow's effect was felt instantaneously as Sara's head was rocked back in picturesque fashion - her legs lost their strength and buckled beneath her as her entire body seemed to go limp. Erica was able to fetch an insurance left hook to the jaw as Sara started to slide off the ropes - the last blow turned her sideways as she dropped to her haunches, hands pressed against the sand as she braced herself from falling any further.
"Yeah!" Erica shouted enthusiastically, "How was that, bitch? You like that?"
The blonde's punches had shaken Sara, but Erica's words quickly brought her back to her senses. She focused all of her range and hatred into a scowling death glare, leveled straight at her younger challenger. Erica merely replied with a smug grin, but the referee stepped in to usher her backwards before she could get in another word edgewise.
With the round at its close, there was no need for the blonde to go to the neutral corner. Instead, she took only a few steps back and watched as the referee began to administer the count. The crowd outside of the ring was cheering eagerly and loudly, but even through the din Erica was able to fixate on the sound of the taller woman's voice as she called out the passing of each second in Spanish. Sara hadn't averted her hostile gaze from the blonde as she knelt in the sand, but it was clear that she'd picked up on the count as well. Pressing her hands against the ground and getting her legs under her, Sara wisely took a full rest before rising at 8. She presented her gloves for the referee, who quickly wiped the sand off on her waist wrap before signaling for the bell. Erica flashed another condescending smirk at her scowling opponent and then turned towards her corner, sauntering away with arms raised.
Aimee and Whitney were both at the ready upon her arrival. The brunette was giddy with delight at Erica's success as she began attending to the fighter, while the older blonde's demeanor was still strictly business. In contrast to the other two seconds, Raquel remained at her station outside of the ring and watched the events transpiring on the other side of the squared circle with close scrutiny. Erica sat down on her stool and leaned back to rest her arms on the middle rope as Whitney removed her mouthpiece and gave her water. Looking over the brunette's shoulder, she fixed her eyes on the opposing corner as she took stock of the other fighter.
Sara was standing in her corner facing the turnbuckles, gloves clenching the top rope on either side of the ring post. Her sand girl was hard at work cleaning the grit off of the older woman's curvaceous glutes and thighs. The young girl worked quickly even in spite of the light sheen of sweat that adhered the sand grains to Sara's skin - all in all, Erica estimated that it took her a maximum of fifteen seconds to complete the task. All the while, Sara was looking over her shoulder balefully at her blonde opponent - she maintained her fierce glare even as she took her stool.
"You did good," Aimee commended, "I want you to keep it up. Jugs and chin. Give her as much as she can take."
Erica nodded in response to her trainer's words.
"Watch out for her left. She's mad as hell over there - she's going to throw everything she's got at you now."
Casting a quick glance across the ring, Erica could see the truth in Aimee's words. Sara seemed unbowed as she waited for the bell - judging from appearances, she looked like she'd managed to get the most out of the break, even if it was abbreviated. Erica knew that a fighter of Sara's caliber wouldn't be brought down so easily, even after as poor a start as the one she'd had. The Mexican's angry stare, unyielding in its vigilance, spoke volumes about the fury that had been awoken by the blonde's brazenness.
Erica simply smiled back at her foe. Ten seconds remained in the break - the blonde rose to her feet the moment Whitney slipped her mouthpiece back into place. She brought her guard up in front of her body as these last fleeting moments passed by - it was time to get back to business.
The loud clang of the bell echoed across the beach as Round 2 began. Sara's mindset seemed to be reflected in her actions as she rose off of her stool and marched straight forward to engage Erica. The blonde came out of her corner more quickly, meeting the Mexican just past mid-ring. She immediately began pumping out her left jab to her opponent's face and was met with reciprocating punches that snapped against her cheek and guarding right glove. Erica followed the quick trade of punches by turning her body and driving a hard right hook into Sara's left breast. She was determined to continue investing in her opponent's rack and couldn't help but smile in satisfaction as the blow brought a pained cringe to the older woman's face. But even as she threw a matching left hook to the other breast, Sara countered with her own right that landed solidly to the blonde's jaw.
The stinging blow forced Erica to take her first backward step of the fight. It took her a moment to recover, but it was only the briefest of pauses as Sara advanced on her without hesitation. The older woman was spitting out the left jab now and trying to negotiate her way in close even as the blonde was attempting to circle away and regroup. Erica's right cross found its mark and connected solidly with Sara's left tit, but a similar punch aimed for her cheek hit nothing but air. Sara had read the blonde's punch perfectly and bobbed out of harm's way - moving in underneath the blonde's arm as it extended outwards, the Mexican carved at Erica's body with a powerful left hook to the liver. Erica cringed as Sara's fist drove into her midsection. She tried her best to hide just what kind of an effect the blow had on her even as it stopped her in her tracks, but suppressing a groan of pain proved impossible as a second similar blow hammered her torso.
Even in the face of Sara's punches, however, Erica was still slugging back. She threw a stiff right that caromed off of Sara's forehead; pawing out a left jab, she followed with another right that snapped at the older woman's left breast. Her body continued to be Sara's primary target - soft gasps were forced from her throat by the hard left hooks that impacted twice against her flank. Erica cried out again as a right uppercut snapped at the underside of her left tit - this latest vocalization had a much more whiny quality to it as her breasts came under fire for the first time in this fight. Sara threw a left uppercut now to the blonde's right breast - the violent jostling of her rack strained the string of her bikini top as it bowed and then snapped taut with her orb's rise and fall.
Fading backwards, Erica planted her feet in the sand and tagged Sara on the brow with a stiff left hook. It wasn't enough to stagger her or seriously hurt her, but the punch definitely served as a reminder that the blonde would make the Mexican pay dearly for every inch of real estate she contested. Circling a few steps to the side as she regarded her opponent warily, Erica jabbed with her left once to each tit. She saw her opening as Sara's arms came in to protect her chest - the blonde came over the top with a solid right cross to the jaw. But despite throwing what she thought was the best punch of the day, her gloved fist failed to find its intended target as Sara fluidly slipped the punch off of her shoulder. The moment it took Erica to realize that she was wide open was one that she couldn't' spare as Sara slid in and crammed another devastating left hook to her belly. She cried out loudly as the blow harmed her, forcing her to step back in retreat.
Sara was relentless. She threw herself at her younger opponent with hot-blooded fury - Erica recovered her guard barely in time to block a one-two combination that thudded against her forearms. She threw a left hook to the jaw as her opponent tried to come forward, but Sara ducked the blow that likely would have rocked her badly had it landed. The two exchanged punches as the older woman came out of her crouch - Erica grimaced as a stiff right slugged her ribs, but she simultaneously pounded the side of Sara's head with a counter right hook. The Mexican was already throwing another punch even as the blonde was resetting her hands - a robust uppercut found her chin and snapped her head back violently. Erica's legs trembled and threatened to give way beneath her. Stumbling forward, she reached out with her arms and wrapped them around Sara's, pulling herself close to her opponent for a much needed respite.
Despite the similarities to the previous round's clinch, the circumstances now were considerably different. The two women were again embraced nose to nose and body to body, but unlike before it was now the blonde who found herself in dire straits. The blow had shaken Erica badly, and its effects were written in her every movement and facial expression. The spectators in attendance were responding enthusiastically to the action in the ring, but their cheers were cacophonic and individually unintelligible - in her current state it was hard for her to discern if the prevailing sentiment was rooting for her to rally or for Sara to put her down. Erica could hear Aimee's voice shouting at her, but she couldn't make out the words - the only thing that was perfectly audible was the sound of Sara's heavy breathing as she writhed and struggled to break free from the blonde's clutches. Sara was still trying to move her arms, shrugging a few short punches at the blonde's ribs, but Erica's clinch was keeping her tightly constrained.
The break was short as the referee moved in to separate them, but it was sufficient for the blonde to clear her head. Raising her gloves, Erica shuffled forward in the sand towards her opponent as Sara likewise advanced aggressively towards the blonde. The older woman's eyes fixed upon Erica with an angry glare, and she returned the hostile gaze with equal vehemence. The feminine animosity between the two was now as palpable as the ocean breeze as battle was rejoined.
Erica measured with her left jab as the two fighters came together again, and they immediately exchanged punches as soon as they were in range. The blonde grimaced as Sara's left hook slammed into the side of her head like a bludgeon, but even through the throbbing pain she could still relish the sound of her opponent's pitiful wail as her own right fist smacked into the Mexican's left tit. Sara's forceful blow was disorienting, but Erica rallied all of her energy and willpower into throwing another punch, which came in the form of a left-handed blow that she felt plow forcefully into her opponent's rack. She could hear the resulting anguished scream that came from Sara's lips - it had a whiny and almost demoralized quality to it. Had it been in enough to stop her in her tracks? As her vision regained its focus, she could see the discouraged expression on her opponent's face - there was no doubt Sara was starting to unravel.
The moment passed quickly, however, as Sara's eyes went hard. The Mexican leaned in and drove a vicious left hook squarely into the blonde's midsection.
Erica's eyes went wide as the punch found her liver with pinpoint accuracy and crammed in with brutal efficacy. She opened her mouth to cry out in pain, but no sound came forth. Paralysis was spreading quickly throughout her entire lower body - despite her best efforts, her legs felt like they would give way at any moment. Desperately needing to clinch, Erica reached out with her arms to tie her opponent up as she stumbled forward, but all she could do was get her hands on Sara's shoulders. The Mexican's own arms were still free as she threw a second and third hook, each identical to the first - the blonde found her voice and cried out in agony as these latter blows drove violently into her body.
Sara pressed her left glove on Erica's shoulder and gave her a firm push, creating some separation between them. Crippled by the blows, the blonde was now wide open for the older woman's next punch: a perfectly measured right cross to the jaw. The blow snapped her head back violently and sent her tumbling backwards in a daze. The blonde tried desperately to keep her feet, but her legs were finally buckling beneath her - she made it only a few steps before she lost her balance and toppled backwards to the sand.
Erica groaned softly as she struggled to come to her senses. She was dimly aware of the fact that she had been dropped to a seat on the ground - the only things that had kept her from being stretched out on her back completely were her forearms, which propped her back up off of the sand. Staring down the length of her body, she tried to coax some movement out of her legs, but they felt leaden and were slow to respond. Erica listened anxiously for the referee's count, trying to gauge how long she'd been down. A singular voice cut through the haze and grabbed her attention:
"You little whore! Get up! Get up!"
Tilting her head, Erica looked up to see Sara staring back down at her. The fury in the older woman's eyes was unlike anything that the blonde had ever witnessed, and the glare seemed to pierce through her defenses effortlessly. Erica felt a brief shiver run through her spine. Time seemed to stand still as she remained locked in Sara's gaze, but soon everything was in motion again as the referee intervened to begin the count.
Erica recovered from her momentary lapse in composure as the voice of the third woman in the ring replaced that of her opponent. Turning herself over gingerly, the blonde made it to all fours as the count, in English, rose to 5. She took a moment to rally some strength into her legs before rising off of the ground, making it to her feet at 8. Erica raised her gloves for the referee, who gave them a perfunctory wiping off before signaling for the bell.
The mood was much more somber upon Erica's return to her corner than it had been during the previous break. This time, Raquel was the one waiting for her inside the ring while the other two cornergirls remained on the sidelines. The young Mexican girl guided her as she arrived, directing her to face the turnbuckle - Erica reached out for the top ropes with both hands, leaning her weight into them for support as her second went to work. Raquel performed her duty rapidly, wiping the sand from one triceps, then the hips and glutes, and finally the other triceps in succession.
"She's a strong fighter," Raquel said softly as she leaned in close, "but I know that you are stronger."
It was a short and rather simple platitude, but in the absence of any other assistance the blonde would take whatever positive reinforcement she could get. With the sand girl's work complete, Erica took her stool as the other two seconds moved in to replace her. The shortened rest period did the blonde no favors, but Raquel had been swift in her work and kept the time taken away to a minimum. Resting her forearms in her lap, Erica took a deep breath as Whitney began her revitalizing ministrations.
"She's fast," Erica muttered as her mouthpiece was removed. In her current state, she could find no other words to assess the situation.
"She's pulling out all the stops to take this fight early," Aimee replied, "She knows she won't be able to keep up with you the longer this goes on."
The blonde fighter nodded as she was given a quick swig of water. A brief massage of her biceps and shoulders from Whitney felt invigorating and eased some of the tension in her body.
"Tit for tat," Aimee continued, "She's going to crowd in and try to bully you. Give her as good as you get. You're stronger than her. Better than her."
Erica bit down on her mouthguard as Whitney slid it back in between her lips and rose to her feet as the seconds were called out of the ring. The bell to begin Round 3 rang far sooner than Erica would have preferred. As she rose off of her stool, she could feel the aftereffects of her opponent's fists, and not just in the body - her legs still felt a bit shaky and were definitely much slower to respond as she took her first steps out of her corner. The inherent limitations imposed by the ring's terrain were now presented more starkly than ever - combined with the condition of her legs, the chances of being able to stay mobile were absolutely nil. As Erica stared across the ring and saw her opponent advancing with the same hard look in her eyes as before, she now clearly understood how Sara had managed to dominate this sandy arena for as long as she had.
The blonde took a pair of left jabs as she met her foe at midring. With her reflexes diminished, both punches snapped into her cheek before her body could react to the command to move. Sara now went to the torso with a right hook - Erica tried to block the punch on her arm, but instead she cried out in pain as it slammed into her flank behind her elbow. Sara was right behind her punches, taking the fight into close quarters as she leaned in mouth-on-shoulder. The Mexican pressed her left glove against the blonde's right shoulder, bracing herself as she carved at the younger lady's midsection with repeated right hooks. Erica winced as the blows continued to land, burying her own face in the crook of Sara's neck. The older woman again pushed on her shoulder and threw another punch to the body - between the wrestling left hand and the concussive right fist, Erica was slowly being driven in a backpedal towards the ropes.
Erica scowled as she jostled with Sara for control, but had no success as she took another punch to the midriff. "You bitch," she muttered through a pained grimace.
Planting her feet into the sand, the blonde finally began to move her arms and fight back. The two fighters traded rough, compact punches to the body; Erica was quicker to follow up as she doubled the right into the pit of Sara's stomach. The older woman gasped softly in pain, but the hushed cry was perfectly audible to the blonde in their near-intimate confines. Erica's punch was soon answered by a hook to the midsection, which brought an achy cringe to her face as she pressed her mouth against Sara's collarbone.
Blonde and Mexican pushed with their arms and shoved with their upper bodies as they issued punches in close quarters. The small but enthusiastic crowd was now cheering energetically for both women as they continued to methodically trade punches - this was the fight that they were paying to see and the type of action that they'd come to watch. The fight was also, undeniably, Sara's kind of fight.
Erica snapped at Sara's taut midriff with a left-right combo - the sound of her opponent's suffering was uplifting, but the younger fighter soon found herself choking back an anguished cry of her own as a vicious left hook slammed into her liver and cramped her up badly. The motion of Sara's body was as fluid as it was merciless - she pushed her opponent's ribs and biceps to gain a small measure of separation and then shrugged a right uppercut into the blonde's face. Erica groaned as the blow picked her head off of Sara's shoulder and snapped it back violently - she staggered backwards on unsteady legs, driven perilously closer to the ropes. Sara stayed on her, not giving her any opportunity to regroup - Erica pushed out a groggy right cross, but her punch only caromed off of the top of her opponent's head as Sara's left crashed violently into her right breast. The Mexican was already moving inside as the blonde reeled backwards, resuming their close-embraced battle of attrition.
Autopilot was beginning to take control of the blonde's actions as she brawled and traded body punches with her opponent in increasingly mindless fashion. Erica resented the touch and heat of Sara's body against her own, and the sweltering afternoon provided no comfort as the sun's withering rays taxed every motion that she and the Mexican made. But despite the fatigue creeping into her arms, she willed herself to continue punching Sara's flanks and stomach even as the older woman's fists battered her own svelte chassis. Achy gasps and whines punctuated the trade of blows as the two fighters pushed and strained against each other, taking and yielding ground in a back and forth struggle.
One of Erica's punches strayed upwards and slammed into the underside of Sara's right breast. The sound of the Mexican's tortured cry was music to the blonde's ears and only served to encourage her.
"Gonna wreck your tits," Erica proclaimed as she snapped a second and third punch into her rival's rack.
Sara was starting to back off as her chest took punishment, and Erica pressed the attack with a right uppercut to the chin that snapped her head back ever so slightly. Pushing for more separation, the blonde threw a right cross to the Mexican's jaw, but took a hook on the ear in exchange - the blow disoriented her and sent her stumbling a few steps away from her foe. A right cross immediately followed and caught her on the mouth, rocking her head back. The last punch in sequence, a left hook, snapped her head sideways and drove her backwards on shaky legs to the ropes.
Erica was in a fog as she slumped against the strands for support. She desperately tried to rally her body and mind, but neither seemed to be recovering with the necessary urgency. Her hands were still up at chest-height, bu8t her guard was loose and in no condition to protect her from further harm. Erica could feel her arms being wrestled and pried apart - Sara's left hand was soon pressing on her shoulder once again, stacking her upright against the ropes for more punishment.
A reprisal punch to the tits brought Erica back to her senses. The blonde arched her head back and wailed loudly as Sara's fist impacted forcefully against her left breast, compressing it painfully against her chest. More punches, delivered in slow but very purposeful fashion, continued to land against one heavy orb or the other and were each punctuated by a new agonized cry that was torn from the blonde's throat.
""How do you like it, whore?" Sara shouted, "How do you like it?!"
Staring bleakly at her opponent's eyes, Erica's gaze came into focus as she caught a glimpse of the hatred and malevolence driving the Mexican to pay the blonde back for all of the abuse that her rack had suffered thus far. Erica's response came in the form of a sweeping left hook to Sara's right tit. The Mexican's voice took on the form of a loud groan as it echoed the blonde's earlier distress.
Compelled by the sight and sound of the older woman's anguish, Erica coaxed her other arm to move as she began assaulting rack with both hands. By now, Sara had already pulled her own left hand back to begin punching the blonde's tits - a point of no return had been crossed as the two fighters went after each other's jugs in ferocious and single-minded fashion. Erica cringed as her opponent's blows hammered and savaged her magnificent breasts with seemingly tireless dedication and vigor. Her tits were throbbing from the steady attack, but she took solace from the grimace that was reciprocated on Sara's face as her own punches slammed repeatedly into the Mexican's bikini top.
The blonde threw a right hook palm-up into Sara's left tit twice in succession, eliciting a tortured moan as the blows smashed into the heavy orb. The sound of her opponent's distress compelled Erica to snap out another left-right pair of punches to Sara's breasts, yielding another anguished groan. The last combination also buckled Sara's legs, causing her to stagger forward for a clinch. Erica instinctively struggled against her foe's ensnaring clutches, and for a moment she could feel her back coming off of the ropes as her body pushed Sara's backwards. However, this sensation was soon replaced by another as the Mexican disengaged her right arm and drove an uppercut into the overhanging ledge of the younger girl's bikini top. Erica wailed as black leather pounded her breast repeatedly like a piston - the intensity of the pain overwhelmed her briefly and left her powerless to stop Sara from bodying her back into the strands.
Sara's hand pressed against her shoulder again to prop her upright. Erica's eyes were misty with tears, but she could nonetheless discern her opponent's form squaring off toe to toe. Though Sara had certainly not been spared from the fight's tolls on her body and spirit, her desire to put the young blonde upstart in her place was as strong as ever. An exchange of right hands to jug went in Sara's favor as her follow-up left to the blonde's tits went unanswered; Erica threw another right, but it was preempted by another savage uppercut to the left breast. Sara pushed at her shoulder again to keep her stacked up - the blonde cried out helplessly as another left hook and right uppercut buffeted her chest like rough waves of the ocean against the shore.
Straining to focus her efforts, Erica lashed out with a right hook to the outside of Sara's left breast. The punch had a dramatic effect on impact as it knocked the Mexican's heavy tit out of its bikini cup - Sara seemed to falter momentarily from the psychological blow while the blonde zeroed in on the exposed orb. Erica went after her new target with weary but determined straight punches, hacking the blows head-on at Sara's nipple. Agony now seemed to be etched permanently in Sara's expression, but the desperation in her eyes was mirrored by a similar look on the blonde's face as the two fighters continued to batter each other's breasts.
Another uppercut collided with the underside of Erica's left tit, tearing an anguished scream from her lips. This last blow proved to be too much for her to bear as she reached in to clinch with Sara. All around her she could hear the crowd cheering in approval as the boob brawl's victress was decided, but for the time being she had bigger concerns as the older woman stacked her up in preparation for reaping the rewards of her triumph. Erica sobbed helplessly as the blows were now landing without answer - Sara was weary, but still willing to punch as she pillaged Erica's rack triumphantly.
A brutally precise left hook hammered her in the liver. Erica blurted out in pain as the blow doubled her over - she could feel her entire body starting to relax as if the punch had sapped all of the life out of her. As she tilted forward, a right hook clouted her chin and snapped her head sideways in crowd-pleasing fashion, clapping the mouthpiece cleanly off of her teeth in the process. One final short right smacked against her pate, but it was unnecessary at this point - Erica's downward trajectory had already been ordained as she jackknifed to the ground at Sara's feet.
Erica moaned softly as she lay with her face and chest pressed into the sand. The throbbing in her head made it hard to regain her bearings, whereas each shallow breath she took sent a new ripple of agony throughout her body. She tried to coax some life into her legs, but her upper torso remained firmly immobilized on the ground - as a result, her movements did little more than to shake her ass as it stuck up elevated above the rest of her body. Pinching her eyes shut, Erica choked back a sob as she struggled against both the pain and her feelings of helplessness.
Planting her hands into the sand beside her, Erica made another attempt to get up off of the ground. She summoned every ounce of strength that she could into her limbs and put it all into one frantic push. Her arms finally came to life as she raised herself up to all fours, and soon her legs responded as well to bring her up to her feet. Erica swayed unsteadily as the bell rang - it was only when the referee reached in to wipe her gloves that she realized that she had beaten the count.
Erica's mind was still in a haze as she plodded back to her corner. She could feel Raquel's hand on her shoulder guiding her as she returned, gently helping her to lean up with her back against the turnbuckles for support. Erica rested her arms on the top ropes as the
arenadora began her diligent work to remove the sand that now covered her face and upper torso. Raquel was trying to be delicate with her touch, but the soft terrycloth material of the towel still felt abrasive when it dabbed against the scuffed skin of her cheeks and around her eyes. The young Mexican's attention soon shifted downward to the blonde fighter's chest, accompanied by an anguished cringe and low moan of pain as her bruised and tender breasts ached with the slightest jostling. Erica could hear Raquel offering words of encouragement, but she couldn't make out the words.
On the other side of the ring, a commotion was brewing. As Sara had been knocked out of her bikini top, she was now obligated by the rules to have it removed. Looking over her sand girl's shoulder at the opposite corner, Erica watched as the older woman rose from her stool and posed proudly while her seconds removed the white halter. With her chest unobstructed, Sara grasped the top rope with her gloves and arched her back, thrusting her big breasts out for all to see. The heavy orbs had suffered just as much abuse as Erica's had in the preceding rounds, but they nonetheless remained an impressive sight that elicited immediate and enthusiastic approval from the audience.
Likewise transfixed by her opponent's figure, Erica could hear Aimee calling out to her as Raquel completed her task. Through her grogginess she was able to make out that she was being asked if she wanted to have her own top removed. Erica nodded dumbly, and soon felt the knots at her neck and back come undone as the shiny blue garment was peeled away from her chest. In theory, disrobing by choice after forcing her opponent to be stripped should have been at least some sort of psychological victory; in her current state, however, it didn't feel like one to the blonde fighter.
