These last couple of weeks? They've been something. I just wish I had a better handle on what exactly that something was supposed to be.
Professionally speaking,
Erica Ellis and I were in a very good place at the moment. She was coming off of a
high profile match versus the formidable
Lily Wu, their second encounter against one another. It had been a highly contested and intensely gripping affair, and though she'd been pushed to her limits in a few spots, Erica had succeeded in rallying to ultimately finish matters with an emphatic show of dominance. The win had raised her profile considerably, and it had also allowed her to avenge her only previous loss in the process.
On the personal side, Erica and I had also ended the night with us physically expressing our feelings for each other for the first time. My interest in her is, being honest, a bit of a poorly guarded secret. I hadn't been expecting that anything was going to happen, and I was surprised when they did. But as far as that sort of thing goes, the development was one that I wholeheartedly invited.
I presumed that Erica saw things the same way. But pretty quickly, it was apparent that she was reassessing what had transpired. There was no denying that we'd acted rather impulsively, but that fact seemed to sit far less well with her than it might've with me. We'd had a heart-to-heart about where we stood, and we'd come away from that resolved to return to the status quo from before. I found that disappointing, even if what I would've preferred was no longer really possible. But even if neither of us would give voice to it explicitly, I'm skeptical that things could ever be set back as they once were. The way things have gone in the days since then have seemed to reinforce that conviction, and I sense a gulf beginning to build where none had been previously. I'm concerned about what that bodes for maintaining our working relationship as time goes on.
Speaking of business, Erica had become the girl to beat on the heels of her latest win. There was no shortage of would-be opponents who were all eager to take their shot at her next, but of these, one stood out noticeably from among the rest. The reputation of the fighter preceded her to a great degree, and the source of the challenge was highly atypical in coming from outside our usual locale. I was a bit surprised that word of Erica's latest accomplishment had gone out as far as it had so quickly. But what perhaps raised eyebrows even more was the size and generosity of the offer that the other party was making - this woman was bringing some deep pockets with her, and she was unafraid to throw her financial weight around to muscle out competing challenges.
Without question, this stood to be a tremendous step up in terms of the quality of the opposition. Erica was well aware of that, but to my mind, the prospect of facing the other woman gave her far less pause than what I would have expected. I elected to not press her on it; as it was, her involvement in the decision-making for this fight was far less hands-on than was the norm. I can understand the reluctance. But at the same time, I had long since come to know that when a stern competitor planted themselves firmly in her path, there was zero chance that she would shy away or back down from the fight. I had complete trust in her and was fully certain that she was going to give it her all.
The occasion had brought us to a lavish residence in Newport Beach. Situated on prime oceanfront real estate, this two-story house had an architectural design that absolutely made the most of the location. There was a heavy emphasis on glass, notably in arrays of sliding doors that spanned the entire extent of a wall; when these doors were opened the entire way, they allowed for whole rooms to be revealed to the outdoors. The downstairs living room had this arrangement on two of its sides, one that went out to a large patio area and the other towards a small court in the back. Beyond the hedges that formed the property boundary, lawn gave way to sand that went on for several hundred feet out toward the shoreline. The fighting space itself was recessed by about two feet and was sparsely furnished for the event by a long sofa that cordoned it off from the rest of the downstairs, as well as some armchairs to its opposite. The mood felt quite relaxed here at night; I along with about a third of the guests were situated inside towards the kitchen and dining areas, while the rest were spread out around the back and the patio.
The main event of the evening was upon us at last, and I could feel a great anticipation come over the coterie as the two fighters made their entrances. The first to grace us with her presence was one
Helen Parker; 27 years old, 5'5 tall and 110 lbs in weight, with red hair down to her shoulders and a 34D bosom, this woman appeared in the flesh to be every bit the queen that prior implications would have suggested. Helen's attire consisted of a red and black tiger-print bra and panties with a matching miniskirt; she bore a regal air about her with a haughty grin on her face as she emerged from one of the downstairs bedrooms and sauntered past the onlookers towards the fighting space. The reception that greeted her was rather chilly, as was to be expected, but she showed no signs that she was in any way bothered by this. If anything, her mood seemed to thrive off of the unwelcoming crowd sentiment as she defiantly planted her feet down at the room's center and laid claim to all that she beheld in front of her.
Traditionally, Los Angeles and Las Vegas have tended to stick to their own separate sandboxes. I don't know that there's a good coherent explanation for why that's the case. Maybe an understanding was arrived at back in the day to not encroach on the other's turf, which everybody has just gone along with ever since. Maybe differences in the ethos and conduct of business make us incompatible with them and vice versa. It's not unheard of for a fighter to make the jump permanently from one location to the other, but that's very much a rarity; incursions do happen from time to time, but those affairs are typically fleeting at best. On the face of it, Helen's current foray was taking on the shape of the latter. Certainly, a woman whose talents were as considerable as hers was not to be so easily discounted. After all, she was one of the two principal personalities at the top of the Vegas fight scene, at least up until very recently; between them, the entire city had been divided, conquered, and lorded over for several years running. But replicating that success far afield from her familiar environs was no simple task, especially in light of the high bar she had to overcome in her very first outing.
A lull settled over the downstairs that lasted for about two or three minutes, but the arrival of the other woman onto the scene elicited a pronounced response that rippled its way throughout the spectators who were gathered. There could be no question of their preference for Erica, which they expressed with a broad consensus as she glided down the glass-adorned staircase from the second floor. To my eye, she looked magnificent as always in her trademark metallic blue string bikini; at 20 years old, a height of 5'4 and weight of 110 lbs, with shoulder-length blonde hair and a 36D chest, she physically was very well-matched versus her foe. Still, her entrance was markedly unlike that of Helen's. In spite of being the clear favorite of the hometown crowd, Erica seemed to take no uplift from their enthusiastic support as she maintained a frosty visage and displayed little flourish in her strut through the room. The two of us made the briefest of eye contact as she rounded past the vicinity where I was standing, but there was hardly any shift in her temperament as she strode by and made her way into the fighting space.
I turned my sights back onto Helen. She exuded conceit and disdain through her bearing as she stood with her hands on her hips, while that catty smile of hers didn't falter even the slightest bit as Erica made a beeline straight for her. I reckoned that Helen had not moved from the spot where I'd seen her last; with the blonde marching right up towards her, she seemed all the more intent on planting her feet and refusing to concede even an inch of ground. Holding off someone the likes of Erica was no small matter, but if that gave Helen any cause for concern, it hardly showed as the two women stared each other down at the fighting space's center for perhaps a good minute.
"Ooh, look at you," the redhead at last purred smugly, "You must really think you're something, don't you..."
Hands at her sides, Erica gave her answer wordlessly as she stepped even closer and got right up into the other woman's personal space.
"Really? Is that all?" Helen condescended, "And you're supposed to be the best they've got out here? Please..."
There was a shift in Erica's body language. The way she seemed to tense up. The way her head tilted forward ever so slightly. The way her hand came close to clenching into a fist. Anyone who spotted it would've known that the hammer was about to drop. Outwardly, there was no telling if Erica's opponent anticipated it likewise. Or for that matter, if she even really cared. The brazen nonchalance she seemed to evoke spoke volumes about her mindset, no matter how impudent it might've been in the moment.
Helen continued on, "You have no idea how badly you're about to get trashed. But I promise you. I'll take my time making sure you understand jus-"
Blonde fury surged and crested over in the blink of an eye. Before Helen could manage to finish doling out her threat, Erica's right hand had leaped up from her side to lash out at her opponent's face. Her slap striking the redhead's cheek filled the air with a loud crack and produced a picturesque head-swivel in the process. To her credit though, the redhead held her ground and didn't budge from where she stood. And as she turned her head back to glare at the blonde, her own mean smirk had changed little beyond assuming a glower more vehement than before.
"You shouldn't run your mouth, you bitch," Erica coldly punctuated.
The redhead hissed a retort, "That's the last free shot you're going to get tonight, slut."
With a dare that was so blatantly issued, it took no time at all for it to be accepted. Erica moved immediately to unleash a second slap that was identical to the first, but this time it was reciprocated by a matching strike that Helen let loose just a fraction of a moment later, and which landed effectively to bring a scowl to the blonde's face. The redhead herself looked barely fazed as she winded up and fired off another slap; Erica tried to counter, but hers was a smidge too slow and was sent veering off course as the other woman's blow stung her visibly. Helen piled on with yet another one, and the weight of its impact put Erica on her heels as she clattered back and had to brace herself by reaching her hand out for the sofa armrest.
Erica leveled a baleful glare at her opponent as she recovered her footing and stepped back towards the center of the fighting space. Undaunted, she started to come forward and then suddenly picked up speed while lunging for her foe. Hateful hands sank into redheaded hair and secured a firm grip as they began to pull with wild abandon. In just mere moments, Erica wiped the smile clean from Helen's face as an aggrieved scowl came to replace it, but the other woman hardly took it lying down as she reached into the blonde's hair and started returning the favor in kind. Sharp shrieks and shouts from both ladies were quickly heard as heads were tugged to and fro by the violent hairpulling. The pair were bowed forward as they staggered and stumbled in the open area; occasionally, their bodies would come together when one tried to muscle the other backwards, only to be swiftly repulsed by her rival. The struggle for control was fierce even at this early stage, with neither competitor holding anything back against the other.
As she endured a rough yank down and forward that threatened to double her over, Helen appeared to falter first as her hands fell away from Erica's hair and instead went to grasp at the blonde's torso. But almost as quickly and with barely any delay, she leaned into the motion as she ducked down, pushed with her body into the other girl's, and pivoted around hard while she heaved upwards. Erica's hair-hold was broken as she was taken off her feet and sent crashing down onto the thinly padded carpet by the hip toss; the hard landing looked to have stunned her a bit as she started to peel herself off of the floor with a grimace. Helen meanwhile stepped back after releasing Erica and stalked the perimeter, watching the blonde's every move - the focused gaze in her eyes reminded me of a cat that was poising itself to pounce on its prey. Erica took notice and redoubled her efforts to rise, but she was only halfway up when the redhead came barreling in to tackle her back down onto the carpet.
Once again, hands went for hair with mean intent. Erica's face twisted as her head was being yanked and shaken about by the redhead's rough treatment. She tried to pry at one of Helen's wrists with her left hand while shooting up her right and shoving the heel of it against the other woman's chin, but yielded her no relief. Erica then instead reached further up with her left and seized her foe's hair in return with a hard yank, succeeding at last in forcing the redhead off of her with a shout. Even as the pair devolved into a tangled mess of bodies, the struggle for the superior place atop of the other remained fierce as they rolled and writhed with one another across the floor. Neither of them initially seemed capable of establishing control for very long. Erica attempted first to break the impasse with a handful of artless slaps to the redhead's face, but each one she meted out was paid back equally; Helen appeared to be gaining a positional advantage once she started to tug backwards on the hair to try and wrestle her way onto the blonde, but she was being forced to fight tooth and nail for it every step of the way.
I thought that Erica was getting gradually outworked by her foe, even if at a nickel and dime pace. Seemingly cognizant of this as well, she changed tack by going for Helen's bra with both hands; after pulling down on both of its cups, she sank her talons into the other woman's exposed breasts and started tearing into them with ill intent. Right away, the redhead gritted her teeth as she felt the effects of her sizeable pair being squeezed and gouged in the blonde's clutches. She at first tried to press on with her bid to subdue Erica beneath her, but amid a vehement spate of tugs and wrenches on her hulking orbs, it was clear that her pain and her pride would not allow the affront to go unanswered. Helen retained her left-handed grip in Erica's hair as she used her right to yank aside the blonde's bikini top and get at the left breast; she seized as much flesh as she could hold and began giving back the punishment in earnest.
As the two women tore into each other's racks, their screams and shouts were becoming audibly more aggrieved, while their distress was building ever more visibly in their facial expressions. Erica was doggedly tugging and squeezing Helen's tits with both hands; Helen elected to retain her hair-hold while twisting and clawing Erica's left breast. Even as the women's attacks became more single-minded in where they were being directed, the battle for positional control was still being waged fiercely. Helen appeared to be making inroads towards driving Erica onto her back, leveraging her hairpulling and pushing with her head against the crook of the blonde's jaw to good effect, but Erica resisted at every turn and shoved back on the redhead's chest with the same goal in mind. Neither was willing to countenance the other having her way, and their jug-hate remained unabated as they struggled against each other on the floor.
"You goddamn bitch," Helen fumed, "I'm going to rip your tits down to size..."
"Fuck you," Erica snarled back through clenched teeth.
The redhead's fingers found their way over to the blonde's nipple and began to assail it with determined pinching and twisting. Erica screamed loudly as the pain jolted her senses, and in the split-second window that her own attacks faltered, a sudden tug on her hair rolled her over and put her beneath her foe. Helen didn't let up on the nipple while wriggling forward and trying to secure her place on top, and it was only via a ferocious series of wrenches on her breasts that she was dragged back down to the floor. Erica now pushed her way atop and began to bear down on her rival's chest with every ounce of spite that she could call upon in the moment, putting a tortured grimace on Helen's face as her rack suffered considerably. A rake of the nails across their breadth appeared to affect Helen profoundly as she cringed; Erica tried quickly to capitalize and secure a proper straddle, but found herself stymied by the other woman's legs coming up and wrapping around her torso. Erica thrust her hands down to crush Helen's tits while twisting them back and forth; this produced the first tangible break in the redhead's composure as the latter howled and bucked beneath her.
Erica again attempted to shift forward, but again she was denied as her opponent clung onto her tightly. Paying back the nipple twist from earlier broke the impasse as the redhead appeared to be affected profoundly, thus opening the way for another bid to wriggle atop of the other woman. For a moment, it seemed like Erica was about to work her way past the other woman's legs when they stopped fighting against her; but just as quickly, those same legs came together and encircled her around the waist. The left leg coiled itself around Erica's back; the left foot hooked itself underneath the knee of the right leg, which remained outstretched. I was taken aback by the speed at which this move was made. Erica appeared to have been caught off guard as well; but perhaps more pressingly, she suddenly found herself trapped as a new threat was starting to close in around her.
Right away, the tenor of the struggle was completely upended. It was written all over Erica's face as she failed to conceal the hold's effect on her; perhaps more telling though was the sound of her strained voice as Helen's thighs began to ruthlessly compress her midsection. The redhead's taut muscles appeared to course with strength as she powered one squeeze through them, and then another, and another; moreover, the way she was using her right leg to leverage down on the left served to ratchet up the pressure of the scissors that much more. No longer was Erica seeking to encroach further on her foe; her one overriding goal was now to extricate herself from her opponent's clutches.
The pace of the action had slowed down considerably, but Erica's situation remained fraught as one minute dragged on into the next. Helen had transitioned both of her arms to loop around the back of Erica's head and neck to keep the blonde closely restrained while continuing to scissor with seeming impunity. All the while, that self-satisfied grin of hers was reasserting itself after a prolonged absence, growing ever more prominent as the hold persisted. On the other hand, the blonde's gasps and groans were as equally pronounced as she suffered between the other woman's legs. Erica was still free to push and paw at Helen's thighs, and though she did so with tremendous urgency, she found zero success in breaking the hold apart. One after another, each forceful and spiteful tightening of the redhead's legs drew out a succession of pained reactions as the blonde twisted and squirmed, but still as of yet proved unable to free herself.
With a show of fierce determination, Erica pushed off of the floor and succeeded in raising herself up to a kneeling position. Though still, she hadn't yet found a way out from between Helen's legs, and the redhead was still clinging onto her up top as the ascent brought her along with the blonde to a semi-upright seat. The other woman initially was holding fast in this arrangement, but she winced and was finally compelled to cede her grip as her thighs began to be pounded upon by the blonde's fists. As Helen's arms fell away from Erica's upper body, she leaned back and placed her hands behind her on the carpet for support; at the tail end of the same movement, her legs came apart slightly and then extended fully outwards to lock back together at the ankles. Helen lifted her hips and squeezed as hard as she could with the renewed scissors, and in doing so she turned Erica's face into a mask of agony. Any idea that the blonde had volition over her circumstances was instantly dispelled as she grasped desperately at the redhead's thighs, and for the next minute her midsection was put under tremendous strain by further pumps from the scissors. At the end of it, a turn of the hips sent Erica toppling over to the carpet on her side as the other woman at long last relinquished the hold.
Helen disentangled herself from the blonde and began to rise from the floor. In the moment, she appeared to have fared well in spite of the toll she'd taken thus far. It was far more difficult to say the same about Erica, who was still bowed over on her forearms and knees by the time the redhead had made it to her feet. Helen took the opportunity to undo her bra and discard it, which garnered the approval of a fair number of spectators. But she didn't stop to acknowledge the reaction as she kept her attention laser-focused on the blonde and stood over the other girl with her hands on her hips.
"Aww, poor baby," the redhead condescendingly purred, "You still with me?"
When no verbal rejoinder was forthcoming, Helen bent down and reached for the knots to Erica's bikini top. She imperiously pulled on the strings to undo its ties one after the other, and then with equal firmness of action, she bereaved the item off of her stricken opponent. Erica was in no place to prevent this from being done to her and barely offered more than a whine of displeasure at the taunting move. In comparison to stripping herself down, the audience was notably more roused by the sight of Helen taking Erica's top from her and tossing it aside. But again, Helen did not rest on her laurels and instead continued on with her course as she seized Erica's hair and began yanking on it forcibly.
"C'mon. Get up. Now, you bitch," Helen growled.
Erica shrieked loudly as the discomfort coerced her into doing as the other woman bid. At first she reached her hands out for the other woman's legs and hips as she tried to find her footing, all the while being roughly jerked from side to side by further hairpulling. But eventually, she managed to clasp her arms around Helen's back and shoved forward with her shoulder as she tried to roughhouse her way out of this unfavorable spot. The two women stumbled about for a spell as they vied against each other for control, but the momentum turned against Erica when a thrust of the knee caught her in the stomach while she was doubled over. As she suddenly found herself clattering unsteadily, a heave from Helen sent the pair lurching sideways until they eventually fell over and collapsed together onto the nearby sofa.
Scrambling quickly, the redhead was able to get on top of the blonde right away. Both were lying such that from head-to-foot they were right-to-left as I saw them from where I stood - my viewing angle was not the best due to the seat back, but I was still able to make out the action fairly readily. Right off the bat, I spotted that Helen had succeeded in capturing both of Erica's wrists and was pinning them down to the sofa cushion beside her head. Further down where there was more freedom of movement, the two pushed and thrashed with their lower bodies as one sought to subdue and the other to resist. Gradually, as legs and hips and midsections wrestled against one another, it looked increasingly the case that Helen's initial advantage would not be overcome - this would be confirmed after some considerable time and effort when she eventually managed to secure a mount atop of her opponent.
Abruptly, Helen lurched forward and dropped her chest down onto Erica. The latter squealed in surprise and recoiled as the bulging rack of the former slapped against her face; as the redhead's chest raised up and then splashed down a second time, she had only a mere moment to turn her head aside as the heaving bosom mashed down and threatened to envelop her. People watching from the opposite vantage outside reacted with a markedly higher degree of enthusiasm than those in my vicinity, mostly on account of the better view - where plenty of those spectators might've been cold on Helen initially, the prospect of what she was going for here seemed to draw favor further towards her side.
"How 'bout it," Helen taunted, "Is this how you want me to put you out?"
Erica was too preoccupied to verbalize a rebuttal. But even so, I was fairly certain that an attempt at a breast smother was still premature. Even if the body scissor had taken something out of her, Erica remained plenty capable of staving off any such a move. But the redhead did not look to be deterred in the slightest as she continued to press on with her one singular goal in mind. Time and again as the next few minutes played out, Erica had to contend with Helen's tits as they slapped and sloshed against her face; all the while, the other woman was continuously encroaching closer and closer to securing an irremovable position. Erica pushed back against the weight of her opponent's chest bearing down on her, she kicked with her feet against the sofa, and she twisted and bridged with her body. And that was the real point of the whole exercise, was it not? Erica was being given no option but to fight back from her place of disadvantage, even if at great expense for marginal gain.
Erica squirmed. She bucked and she thrashed and she fought with all she had, but there seemed to be no dislodging the redhead from her perch. Helen was gripping Erica's wrists tightly when she started to push up off of her; apparently forsaking any further attempts to secure the smother. Instead, the redhead began to direct her energy towards bringing the blonde's extremities closer together, inching them bit by bit along the sofa cushion in the face of continued resistance from the pinned girl. When at last she was able to clasp both wrists together in a single hand, Helen drew the other one back and unloaded a spate of quick slaps to the face. These blows cumulatively were enough to stagger Erica for a brief moment, one that Helen used to climb off her and rise up to stand over her. Then reaching down with both hands, the redhead dragged the blonde off of the sofa and dumped her unceremoniously on the floor next to the furniture's base.
Though not particularly hurt by the short fall, Erica was not going to be availed any opportunity to regroup. As she started to rise up to all fours, her opponent's hands were upon her once again with a brusque yank at the shoulder and flank that sent her tumbling over onto her back. Helen moved swiftly to kneel down next to Erica and maneuver her further away from the sofa with a logroll that put the blonde on her side; taking a firm grip on the upturned arm and leg, the redhead next planted her knee against the other girl's torso as she started to yank on the two extremities. Erica's reaction was immediate as she tried but failed to suppress a wail; she writhed on the carpet in search of a path to extricate herself, but no such avenue seemed forthcoming. The hold waned for a second but was then sharply ramped up again, drawing out an even more dramatic outburst of anguish from the blonde.
The contrast provided by Helen's disposition was particularly vivid. She projected an air of unhurriedness while exerting complete command over the other girl via the bow and arrow. Her pose as she kneeled behind the trapped blonde exuded imperiousness as she held herself in an upright and erect posture that seemed to loom large over her downed foe. Amidst this slow and grindy pace, Helen occasionally would direct her attention out onto the audience and survey the multitude of eyes that were looking back upon her. Might she have been seeking to gauge a reaction? To send a message? To win hearts and minds? Perhaps there was an element of all three. I saw it for myself at one point when she looked back over her shoulder towards my side of the room - the grin on her face equally conveyed a sense of satisfaction and a promise of further cruelty to come. Even for anyone who was rooting against her, the allure of the sight had to be incredibly difficult to deny.
After a time, Helen allowed the hold to relax. But she did not let go of Erica, and instead, she rose up and dragged her over to rotate their orientation a quarter turn to the left. The blonde was next pulled onto her back as Helen laid herself down perpendicularly to her; shifting her grip down to the wrist and ankle, the redhead tugged on them while at the same time digging her foot into the other girl's side. By now, Erica was far beyond the point of quelling her own impulses, and she was hardly stoic in reacting to each application of the hold in this new variation. Listening to her voice as she groaned in pain and watching her flail with her free arm and leg on the carpet was discouraging, to say the very least. I knew that Erica was strong and that she had zero quit in her, but with each passing moment, matters seemed to be slipping further and further out of her hands.
Though it must've felt like it was never going to end, the blonde was at long last freed from her contortive torment as the redhead's hold came apart. But as much of a relief as that must've been, anything that could be construed as a respite proved short-lived as her opponent showed no signs of dialing back. Erica was still lying on her back as Helen scooted in closer and threaded her strong thighs around the blonde's chest; watching the redhead as she placed herself on her side, I felt a dreadful unease as I gathered what was about to happen. Seconds later, Helen's ankles were locked together; propping herself off of the floor, she powered her muscles into yet another merciless body scissor.
Erica instantly screamed aloud as the entirety of the hold's compressive force was being directed against her breasts; as the already aching orbs were being squashed against her ribcage, she howled and she twisted and she pried frantically at the legs that encircled her, but to no avail. Helen's bitchy snarl looked fearsome as she worked the scissors through successive squeezes, juxtaposed in vivid detail against Erica's anguish. I watched grimly as the blonde suffered through it all with seemingly no means of escaping her situation. As her efforts to break free appeared to flag, her opponent abruptly released the hold and shifted her position to further up; those menacing thighs then wrapped themselves around Erica's neck as the scissor hold reformed and began to squeeze anew.
Having turned herself over to a reclined posture, Helen planted both hands behind her on the carpet and bridged with her body as she poured her strength into her legs. Erica was compelled once again into voicing her distress, but this time her cries were reduced to a fretful gargle as she was getting choked out by the hold. Pulse after pulse of the redhead's scissors tormented the blonde as she bucked, as she twisted back and forth, and as she tugged at the thighs clamped around her, all of it in vain. Her desperation remained plainly visible on her face as well as in the muted groans that she was letting forth. But each time the hold tightened up around her, the movement of her body that she made in reaction appeared diminished compared to the one that had preceded it.
Though Helen looked to have Erica dead to rights, she also appeared to be in no rush to put her foot down. She could've gone all-out with the scissors if she'd wished to, but she instead was choosing to deliver her squeezes with varying degrees of forcefulness; occasionally and at odd intervals, she would abruptly ramp it up for that extra bit of spite. At times, Helen's gaze was fixed firmly on Erica as she let her have it; but she would also occasionally throw her head back while she arched her body with her chest heaving upwards, as if assuming a model-like pose in the midst of the exquisite carnage she was creating. Even as the other woman broadcast their own majesty at her expense, Erica had little recourse except to suffer through the cruelty.
At last, the redhead relaxed her thigh muscles and allowed the scissor hold to come apart. As she disengaged herself from her quarry, the sum total of what she'd wrought was starkly evinced in the blonde's present condition. I'd seen Erica before when she'd gotten hurt; I'd watched her in the past where she'd been hounded to her limits. But those examples seemed pale next to what I was seeing here. Erica's eyes were pinched shut, her mouth was agape, and she was motionless save for the rise and fall of her chest with each haggard breath she took - every last drop of vitality appeared to have been wrung out of her as she lay sprawled on her back with zero capacity to deny her tormentress from taking further depredations.
Helen had plenty more of that in mind still as her Cheshire cat grin loomed more ominous than ever. Crawling over top of Erica, she reached down to get her hands underneath and started to collect the blonde off of the carpet. She was met with little in the way of resistance beyond the smallest bit of struggling and some fruitless pawing at her hips and biceps, but that hardly prevented her from hauling the blonde up to her haunches while she herself kneeled down in front. Suddenly though, Erica lurched forward into Helen to embrace her closely while also simultaneously snaking her arms around to the other woman's back; hands clasped and muscles flexed as the blonde reeled the redhead into the tight constraints of a crushing bearhug.
I watched as the smile was immediately wiped off of Helen's face. In its place, her expression twisted into an aggrieved scowl as her midsection was compressed within the narrowing space of the unfriendly hug. Perhaps, just maybe, the blonde's efforts could turn the course of the match. If anyone was capable of that, it was Erica; the peril that Helen faced in this moment was all too real. But the latter did not buckle under the strain, and instead she gamely moved to mirror the hold and repay Erica with a bearhug of her own. Arms flexed and relaxed with each squeeze that they delivered to one another while on their knees; their tits and tummies were pressed together tightly and remained so as the fighters refused to part from one another. The suffering each woman endured in this mutual hold grew increasingly evident through their scowls and gritted teeth, as well as in the gasps and groans that sounded ever more fraught as the stand-off persisted.
The tension in the air was rife as both women gave it their all. Seconds had turned into a minute, or two, or three. I wasn't sure. Everything was building towards that decisive moment where one of them would prove to be too much for the other to handle. I saw it finally come when one shifted her arms ever so slightly and powered into a tremendous squeeze - the other was immediately stricken as the brute force of the hug overpowered her, and she let forth an excruciating wail.
Erica had crumbled under the pressure. I felt my heart sink.
Across from her, a new glint flickered in Helen's eyes. It looked to be some combination of measured relief and sadistic revelry. At the same time, her lips quickly formed into a smile that appeared more wicked than any I'd seen thus far. There was a brief pause as she worked her arms into a better position, while also breaking apart Erica's hug in the process; settling in with her face pressed against the crook of Erica's neck, she resumed her work of crushing the other girl's midsection within those tight confines. Right away, a fresh slew of tortured reactions started to be coerced out of the blonde, whose hands grasped weakly at the redhead's arms and shoulders in a forlorn bid to gain freedom. All throughout this, Helen visibly savored the writhing and the anguished vocalizations that she was drawing out with each squeeze, keeping her ear next to the other girl's mouth to experience it all in as up close and personal a fashion as could be had. Though it was easy to scorn the redhead for her cruelty, it somehow was also engrossing to watch her execute it so masterfully.
The bearhug gradually subsided, and Helen was once again free to redirect her efforts into raising Erica upwards. The latter was on rubbery legs as she was forcibly made to stand via a brusque heave off of the floor, and from there immediately she was sent into a staggering retreat as the former bodied her backwards and corralled her against the closest wall. Erica spilled against the solid surface and was shoved upright by a hand that pushed against her collar; this kept her wide open as Helen slugged a left hook dead center into her midriff. The blonde blurted aloud as the punch drilled into her; she instinctively tried to bring her hands up in front of her to form a guard, but she was nowhere near capable of warding off the next shot that pounded into her stomach. Nor yet another that followed directly after that one.
Helen didn't fight as a southpaw, as far as I knew, but here she relied almost exclusively on the left hand to deliver blows to the blonde's body. Notable also was the manner in which she placed herself on the right instead of directly in front of Erica, such that anyone behind her would still have a clear view of the trapped girl. Helen's punches were issued at a measured and methodical pace, as if allowing for the weight of one shot's impact to sink in before loading up to throw the next. My eyes narrowed as I watched Helen in her element - she was putting on a damn show, letting all those who were present revel in the demolition of her opponent. But it seemed also that the redhead was succeeding on that front - perhaps I was late in catching on to it, but the crowd that had spurned her at the start now practically ate out of the palm of her hand with this display of dominance.
And she was taking everything from the blonde that she wanted. Her stiff punches were hammering at the beleaguered midsection. Swiping shots carved into the vulnerable flanks. A few even strayed higher to spitefully tag at the tits. Every resounding smack of knuckle on flesh came with a loud cry that sounded more pain-wracked than the one that had come immediately before it. Sometimes Helen would bring her right hand into the fray, but typically it remained employed to keep the blonde propped up and held in place. At the point where Erica looked ready to fall, the redhead made the most emphatic statement yet in this stretch by leaning in with a full body pin against the wall, hands pressing wrists up along either side of the head as the two met nose to nose and chest to chest. Only letting go and stepping back when she was finally good and ready, Helen then unloaded a vicious series of punches to the other girl's body. Erica's composure broke completely as she cried and sobbed, slowly sliding down as she absorbed the withering fire; the redhead at last took her by the hair and tugged her off the wall, hurtling her forward as she was sent tumbling to the floor at the room's center.
Erica sniveled as she laid face-down on the carpet with both arms beneath her body. She only had the final vestiges of her strength and willpower to call upon as she slowly began to drag herself forward - whether she sought to regroup for a last stand or merely yearned to escape from her tormentress was impossible to discern. Regardless, she'd made it no further than a foot or two when Helen came stalking from behind. The redhead went down to her knees and reached her left hand out to seize the blonde by her hair and halt the advance; gripping tightly, she tugged on it forcibly while the right hand went around to pull up from the collar, drawing Erica to the same kneeling height. Sliding in closer belly-to-back, Helen used the hair-hold to coax Erica's head backwards as she leaned in and tauntingly puckered her lips upon the now-bared throat; the other hand made a similar show of disrespect as she groped the defenseless girl's breast.
The coup de grace was not long behind. Helen brought her left arm down and looped it tightly around the front of Erica's neck with the hand securing a grasp on her own upper arm; her right hand simultaneously shifted to the back of the blonde's head and began to press forward forcefully. Erica's face became twisted as the sleeper hold was being sunk in on her. She reflexively thrashed with her body, but to no effect that was capable of perturbing the redhead. In the same vein, she lacked the wherewithal to raise her hands up out of her lap to contest the hold. It only took a few minutes for the blood choke to overpower her as she went completely relaxed into unconsciousness; the arms in which she'd been ensnared released her as she slumped forward and faceplanted into the carpet. Beyond any shadow of a doubt, Erica had been thoroughly trounced and obliterated.
But though the blonde was finished here at the fight's end, the redhead was still far from done.
Over the course of the next several minutes, Helen cemented her triumph by working a sequence of poses atop of her vanquished foe. Past fight accounts would often comment about her pique for indulging in such displays, but I now got to witness firsthand just how adept she was at using her conquests as human props for her own aggrandizement. One by one, she went through these motions at a luxuriated pace, maintaining each one for as long as she damn well pleased.
Straddling the back: With her quarry still face-down and laid out spread-eagle, Helen seated herself across the waist and raised her arms in a double flex. Her demeanor was steely for a time, but her catty grin came to the fore before long. Near the end, she placed her arms behind her head and continued to lay it on with a more sensuous tone in mind.
Confirming she's out: Still seated at her perch, Helen reached down and took a firm grasp on the disheveled mass of the other girl's hair. With that grip, she pulled back upon it and raised Erica's head and upper body off of the floor so that all present could have a good look at her slumbering face. Eventually, Helen's hand slid its way down to cradle the chin from underneath, applying a little waggle back and forth just because she could.
Giving her the jugs: Having rolled Erica onto her back, Helen straddled the blonde again and lowered herself down to apply a breast smother. This was hardly necessary given Erica's already unconscious state, but that was not about to stop the redhead from taking what she wanted. In any event, it likely was less to do with subduing the blonde and more a matter of sending a message. Electing to pin Erica's wrists rather than snugly wrap up her head, Helen mashed and sloshed her tits against her victim's face in a very showy manner, meeting zero resistance along the way.
Admiring the work: At the conclusion of the smother, Helen raised herself partway up on one arm while running her other hand across Erica's upturned face. Helen's burgeoning breasts hovered just above Erica, as if threatening to bury her within their confines all over again at any moment. Having rendered the blonde slack-jawed and insensate, the redhead looked out onto the crowd with an intense stare and motioned down with her eyes, inviting one and all to partake in the sight of the devastation laid upon the other girl.
Towering triumphant: Helen was standing over Erica as she asserted her supremacy through perhaps the most prolonged sequence yet. She planted her foot down with purpose on the blonde's midsection, on the chest, and on the face as she assumed a variety of poses in turn. Some of these evoked her prowess as a fighter; some leaned heavily into displaying her profound beauty; but each one to the last emphasized that Erica's place belonged squarely beneath her.
The audience that had largely been averse towards Helen before was discernibly more receptive of her by now. People loved a winner after all; and for those who were not swayed by her dominance during the match itself, her display in its aftermath provided plenty of further convincing. Seeing Helen's self-aggrandizement come at the blonde's expense was a very harsh pill to swallow, but there was no recourse by which I could've intervened on Erica's behalf. Tonight, this redheaded queen reigned supreme over all that she beheld in her presence, and in one way or another, we were all captive to it for as long as she insisted.
* * * *
There's a particular house rule that a fair number of event hosts elect to partake in. Upon the conclusion of the match, its loser is at the earliest possible convenience to be escorted off of the premises and sent away. In doing so, the venue is left in the sole purview of the winner, and the act serves to symbolically reinforce the notion that she has conquered that which lies before her. Without a doubt, it succeeds resoundingly on this last point. I've witnessed it on several occasions and seen the almost magical spell it casts on an audience and on a victress; Erica herself has been the one to render out such a fate upon opponents she's beaten in times past.
Experiencing it from the other side of the equation, however, was another thing entirely.
Erica was a haggard mess as I accompanied her home. The poised and indomitable fighter who had appeared at the start of the night felt like a distant memory by now. At the conclusion of all the ravages that had been laid upon her, she was left drained and exhausted, stripped of her pride, and hurt many times over. Having been bereft of an opportunity to clean herself up prior to departing, she was still half-naked with only my suit jacket draped over her to help cover her up. The tears were coming - quietly perhaps, but steadily for certain. The limo ride back to her place must've felt like it had no end to it in sight, but the whole way there I kept my arm around her shoulder and held her close as we sank into the back seat.
This night had resolved one lingering question. Beyond any shadow of a doubt, the both of us knew now where things stood with one another. Unequivocally, I was hers. For as long as she was in this, I would be in it with her. Wherever that winds up taking us, we can be certain that we'll see it through together.
