Reposted by request.
Cat
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THE THRILL COUNCIL
There are many things that money can buy in this world. Always, money requires new
heights for satisfaction. Such is the purpose of the Thrill Council. A wealthy persons club
can often seem snooty and mostly harmless, but in the world of thrill satisfaction, harmless
is impossible. It started with just 5 guys and their wives. Mostly just tempting fate and even
the occasional law, but as the group grew the thrills sought became more and more diabolical.
Talk was raging through the underground bar scene; the "Council" had issued a challenge
to all within the nightlife circle. A sanctioned catfight to the death, for a prize of $100,000
was the thrill to come. All ladies interested were requested to apply to a clandestine post
office box. Each application had to contain a photo, a biography and the reason why they sought
the prize.
Shannon was simply enchanted by the prospect of such a prize. She had a sickly father
who needed surgery and a young, starving husband in graduate school to support. Shannon knew
that with the prize, all of her immediate problems would be solved. Being only 24 years-old,
Shannon felt confident in her abilities. She was in very good shape after all at 5'7" and 122
lbs. She had always been involved in aerobics and was always good in sports, but had only two
minor catfights in school. Shannon is a very attractive redhead, with a 34B-24-35 figure. She
has a somewhat creamy complexion and searing green eyes, all of which denotes the quintessential
Irish lass. Her pointed nose and pouting lips give her a striking but soft and pleasant
appearance. Shannon is as sweet a person as anyone could ever be.
Shannon quickly applied for a position as one of the fighters. Within a week, she
received a phone call that she had been accepted and would be contacted with details.
Fran, on the other hand, although a beauty in her own right, could generously be
described as mean and nasty. She had bought a local bar which was failing miserably and had not
paid its taxes. She was faced with a mountain of debt and very few options for emerging. Fran
thought that she could easily win such a fight and the prize would set all of the liabilities
straight. Fran is a slightly older woman at 34. She had always taken good care of herself and,
other than an occasional facial wrinkle, had a superb look. At 5'6" and 116 lbs., she was
dynamite in a neat package. Fran was extremely proud of her 36C-25-36 body. Her short and dark
hair complimented her olive complexion and her deep brown eyes. Fran too had a pointed nose, but
hers was slightly more upturned, and thick sensous lips, giving her a serious but inviting
appearance. With years of disappointment behind her, Fran is a tough cookie.
Fran anxiously made application to be a fighter. Within a week, she too had been
accepted and told to wait for details.
Two weeks had passed, and nobody had heard anything more of the "rumored" fight. Even
the chosen contestants had no information. Most people had written such a proposition off as a
hoax at this point.
Suddenly, a little lady appeared at Fran's bar with a legal contract for her to sign.
The contract, as Fran perused it, was a waiver of liability and acknowledgment of her choice to
participate in the fight. Fran was thrilled and quickly executed it. Naturally, Shannon did the
same. And the little lady just faded away. Nothing was heard for another two weeks.
One Monday afternoon, Shannon received a call from a strange gentleman. He asked many
personal questions of her and finally told her that he was to give her the fight information.
She quickly grabbed a pen and wrote it down. The stranger told her that the fight was to be the
following Sunday at 11 p.m. in a very remote wooded area, 30 miles off of state highway 64. He
told her to come alone and to be prepared to fight in just her bra, panties and shoes. He
instructed her that no weapons would be allowed. Shannon asked if there were any other rules,
and the man replied "just one". Of course Shannon had to ask what it was. "The winner must kill
the loser to get the prize." Shannon was shaken by the seriousness and terse tone of the
stranger. She told him that she'd be there.
Moments later, Fran received the same instructions and also agreed to be there.
As Sunday approached, both women had trepidations and thoughts of grandeur about the
upcoming battle. Questions raged in their minds about their willingness to kill another woman,
about the risk of being killed, about the intense ecstacy of being the victor and about the
incredible prize that came with winning; about the lament of the loser's family and friends.
When Sunday night arrived, both women began their sojourn to the wooded arena they had
been instructed to. The drive was a long, dark and thought-filled one. Conjured images of the
fight about to occur danced across their psyche's. As they each pulled up to the area they had
been directed to, they found nothing but a bare-ground clearing surrounded by cars and mansions
of loblolly pine trees. As they stepped out of their cars, they were greeted and told to get
back in their cars and undress. Suddenly, all of the cars' headlights came on and it was evident
that they were to fight inside this circle.
Shannon gingerly stepped from her car. She was wearing a dainty french-cut white lace
bra and panty set and tennis shoes. She was summoned to the center of the circle and told to
stand and await her opponent.
Fran confidently sauntered out in a matching bra and red satin hip-hugger panties with
what looked like baseball cleats for shoes. She too was beconed to the center and moved to face
Shannon.
Chills raged up and down each lady's spine as she first laid eyes upon her opponent. The
man in the center told them that when he called to them, the fight was on and it would not stop
until there was a winner and a dead loser. He asked each woman if she was ready. They each
glanced around and noticed the shadowy figures behind the cars' headlights. They could only see
that there were about 20 men and women in fine evening attire, but could make out no faces. They
both nodded affirmatively. The man retreated to an area behind the front of one of the cars and
yelled "FIGHT!"
Immediately, the two women surged forward and grabbed at each other's hair, pulling and
twisting for advantage. Shrill screams emanated from the mouths of both combatants, as roots
were uprooted and tender scalps were raked by nails. Shannon decided that she couldn't get the
upper hand in the hairpulling and loosed one hand and thrusted her balled-up fist into Fran's
flat but tender tummy. The air rushed from Fran's body, as she partially bent over in reaction
to the blow. Fran tightened her grip and yanked harder on Shannon's hair, removing a chunk from
her ruby mane. Shannon screamed loudly and repeated the punch to Fran's abdomen. She felt her
fist strike into Fran's satin panties and plunge deep into Fran's supple organs. Fran gasped and
doubled over, losing her grip of Shannon's locks.
Shannon stepped forward to press her advantage, wanting to take her opponent out quickly.
As Fran rose slightly from her bent position, Shannon shot her fist at Fran's face. WHACK! Her
fist connected with Fran's sensuous lips, busting the lower one open and a stream of blood began
to roll down Fran's chin. Staggered, Fran tried to cover up from Shannon's fistic assault, but
Shannon shot another hard punch, this connecting with Fran's bulbous right breast and vaulting it
from its restraint. Fran uttered a shreiking cry of agony. The wounded woman grasped her bruised
gland and again fell to her knees.
Shannon, sensing victory at hand, began kicking and stomping at Fran. The tip of her
shoe smacked into the older woman's side repeatedly, bouncing off of her unprotected ribs. Fran
was crying and moaning and seemed unable to continue, or so Shannon thought. As Shannon stood
over her, Fran regained her senses and shot her foot up between Shannon's legs and nailed her
with her shoe tip, right into Shannon's vagina. Shannon wailed in agony and backed up and
collapsed to her knees, holding her injured groin. The fight had just changed direction.
Now Fran stepped forward to take the offensive, and with Shannon crying and holding
herself, she was an open target. Fran grabbed the top of Shannon's hair, balled her fist and
swung it toward her pretty face. WUMP! Fran's knuckles collided against Shannon's perky nose,
breaking it and causing a copious stream of blood to meander down Shannon's face. Fran rared
back again. THUD! Fran's fist pounded into Shannon's mouth, splashing blood and busting
Shannon's lips open. Shannon fell supine upon the ground, dazed from the pounding she had
endured. Fran reveled in her new-found advantage.
With Shannon crying and holding her face, Fran decided to return the favor of a foot
assault, as she began to kick Shannon in her side and stomp her taut belly. Shannon attempted to
roll away from the painful pounding but was met by sadistic Fran's foot, as it smashed into her
breasts. Shannon could feel her perky orbs being crushed against her rib cage, painfully
bruising her tender bust. Shannon called out in both lamentation and fear, as she curled into
the fetal position on the ground. Fran cruelly grabbed Shannon's ankles, spread her legs and
kicked Shannon in her already tender pussy. WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! Fran punished Shannon's
sex organ. A trickle of blood started, and began to stain the crotch of Shannon's panties.
Shannon screamed and tried to cover herself, and then fell back, nearly unconscious. Fran knew
that she couldn't afford to let Shannon recover.
With Shannon waning in and out, Fran knelt down beside her and began to slug Shannon in
her tight stomach. WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! Fran's hard fist struck Shannon in her lacy panties,
pushing her innards down towards her back and up towards her chest. Throaty grunts came from the
sobbing younger lady, as the air escaped her lungs. Fran could feel the energy of her
superiority and could see the strength being sapped from Shannon. She moved up towards Shannon's
head and began punching Shannon in her face and breasts. The smack of her fist against Shannon's
creamy flesh was delightful to Fran. Fran cruelly smiled as Shannon looked up in pain and
horror. Shannon knew her death was at hand.
The hidden throng of onlookers were now loudly offering their encouragement to Fran, as
both women and men in the audience could be heard urging Fran to kill Shannon.
Fran rose, and smirkingly gazed down at the beaten and bleeding beauty. Shannon cried
woefully and begged for Fran's mercy, but she would have none. Fran viciously placed her foot
across Shannon's delicate throat and began to press and stomp downward. Shannon's eyes widened
as she desperately grabbed at Fran's ankle, trying to free her neck. Fran hatefully intensified
the crushing force as Shannon pitifully looked up at her soon-to-be killer and felt her windpipe
begin to collapse. Fran lifted her foot slightly and stomped hard downward again, this time
firmly crushing the lovely woman's throat. Shannon felt her windpipe snap and close. She could
feel the blood pooling in her throat and began to make a sickening gurgling sound. Fran intently
watched as Shannon helplessly struggled to breathe. Finally, and mercifully, Shannon passed out,
her arms falling limp to her side. Fran continued to press and stomp on Shannon's throat for
another two minutes to make sure that she was dead. There was no doubt, Shannon was lifeless.
Fran raised her arms in victory and received the exalting cheers from the men and women who had
watched the fight.
Shannon was promptly buried in an unmarked grave. Fran was paid in cash and returned to
her normal existence.
