What Naughty Girls Get
Looking down at the semiconscious Emma beneath her, Cathy slapped her, hard, with an open right hand across the left cheek. Then she smacked her on the right cheek with a backhand. Emma's glassy eyes opened and Cathy pulled her to her feet.
Holding her up by the hair with her left hand, she sunk a right into Emma's stomach, connected with a right to the jaw and another one to the gut. Emma doubled over.
Entwining both hands into Emma's hair, Cathy pulled her up into a standing position, and then drove her down face first to the bamboo. Emma's heels flew up behind her as she hit. Crunch!
Emma lay motionless, face-first on the floor, legs and arms at odd angles, long hair splayed out around her head.
Cathy stood, poised, above her.
***
Cathy was the oldest of three girls, followed a year later by Bobbie (Roberta) and a year after that Frankie (Francine). The younger two were victims of her father's hope for a son. The Gales had first agreed on just two children, which is how Roberta had been named after her father, Robert. But he had convinced his wife to give it one more go, and the product was Francine. He gave up the quest after that. (A spaniel named Junior followed.)
In any case, no man could have loved his daughters more. Cathy, who with her golden hair and ivory skin, was like a precious doll, and a miniature version of her mother.
Then followed Bobbie, who couldn't have been more different, with her dark hair and olive skin. Her father recalled photos of an Italian great-grandmother, her thick hair and dark features, whose genes had apparently skipped a few generations.
Nobody could explain Frankie, with her flame-red hair and freckles. An uncle suggested an ancestry that stretched back to none other than the Celtic queen, Boudicca. The family did, after all, hail from East Anglia.
When the three girls went out, blond, brunette and redhead, always elegantly dressed by their mother, they were a sight to behold. No more lovely and well behaved girls be imagined.
But, in private, they weren't always so well behaved. Like all siblings, especially ones so close in age, there were disagreements and jealousies, mostly minor, sometimes serious. As they eldest, Cathy was often called on to take charge of the younger girls in the absence of their parents, and from this many of their disputes arose.
The younger sisters, as you can imagine, resented being bossed around by their barely older sister and defied her at every turn.
Cathy at first thought her age and the nomination by her parents should be enough to support her authority. When it proved not to be, she tried to buy her sisters off with treats. Then with threats. Finally, when all else failed, she was forced too use more persuasive methods on her younger siblings.
Their battles were epic. Frankie, especially, never backed down. But Cathy was older and stronger, and more ruthless. One of her more successful techniques was to dig her fingernails into the quicks of her sisters' fingers. She also knew how to slap them just so, causing maximum pain without bruises.
Her favorite, though, was pulling their hair. All three girls were proud of their beautiful locks and wore it long down their backs. Like all sisters, they also helped care for each other's hair, setting it and brushing it.
But when the younger sisters absolutely refused to behave, Cathy went after their long, lovely manes. Screaming they'd run, only to be dragged back by their brunette or red locks, held up and slapped silly by their older sister.
Cathy would throw one to the ground, face first, plop down on her back and just start ripping at her hair, threatening "to pull it out by the roots!" This inevitably sent the girl off to her room, crying, and ended Cathy's problem for a while, at least.
Now, 25 years later, her childhood battles with her sisters long forgotten, some type of reflex kicked in. Perhaps it was muscle memory. In any case, seeing Emma stretched out on the floor, something kicked in.
***
Like a cat, Cathy was on Emma's back, sitting astride her shoulders while trapping her arms in the folds of her legs. She sat her full weight on Emma's back, pinning her to the floor, and glanced at Emma's glossy mane between her legs.
A malicious smile crossed Cathy's face as she sunk two hands deep into Emma's hair, gathering together every loose strand, and feeling its cool, rich sleekness.
"This is great stuff, I've got to hand that to you, Steed," said Cathy, running her fingers through the luxurious tresses. Auburn was the dominant color but, up close, in the light, Cathy saw a rainbow of colors.
"He's got a thing for long, beautiful hair, don't you, Steed?" said Cathy, shaking her own gorgeous mane and glancing at Steed. "I'll wager, Mrs. Peel, he's already working on you to grow it out, isn't he?"
Indeed Steed had brought it up, a couple of times, Emma recalled. After complimenting her on its beauty, he'd inquired, so innocently, "Have you ever worn it very long, Mrs. Peel? How fetching it would look down your back."
Cathy took her silence for a yes.
"I thought so. He can't wait to get HIS hands into this," Cathy said with a yank, while shooting an accusing glance at Steed. "And the longer the better -- to pull you tight, Mrs. Peel."
Emma had at least been given a moment to recover, and she bucked up in an effort to throw Cathy off. Cathy was caught by surprise – she castigated herself for being sloppy – and held on as if to a bucking horse.
Keeping her left hand entwined in Emma's hair, she sent a hard right slap to the side of Emma's head. Then she raised up on her knees and brought her bottom down hard on Emma's back.
"Oooof!" The air shot out of Emma as she hit, chest first.
Again Cathy rose and sat, rose and sat. Emma grunted with each one, and that ended her brief offensive.
"Much better," said Cathy. Gathering Emma's hair with two hands, she bent and sniffed the shining masses. "Oh, what a lovely fragrance, Mrs. Peel. What conditioner do you use?"
Emma had been beaten and abused, was now pinned to the mat and at Cathy's mercy. Still, she had only one answer.
"Never, Dr. Gale."
With that, Cathy took two handfuls of auburn hair and tugged up with all her might.
"Aaaiiiieee!"
Emma continued screaming as Cathy yanked out handful after handful, left and right, left and right. Long strands of auburn hair now flew through the room as Emma howled in pain.
Cathy finally slammed Emma face-first into to the floor.
Emma hit with an, "Unnngh," and clasped both hands to her head, as if to keep it together. Cathy shook her hands free of any stray brunette strands.
"How big a deal is conditioner?" Cathy asked as she rose, dragging Emma up behind her by that fragrant hair.
Standing above and behind Emma, Cathy dug in with two hands and literally hauled her up off the floor, adding several knee-shots to her back for good measure.
Getting Emma to her feet, Cathy – keeping hold of her hair, from behind – yanked Emma's head violently to the left and right, back and forth, up and down. It hurt immensely. Emma could barely keep her feet as she desperately clawed at Cathy's hands to break the grip.
Cathy yanked down, hard, and sent Emma crashing to the floor on her back. Twisting her hands ever tighter in Emma's locks, Cathy took off running down the length of the room – dragging Emma behind her by the hair!
"Aaaaiiiieee!"
Emma slid and bounced across the bamboo as Cathy galloped. Finally Cathy stopped short, releasing Emma's hair and letting her past, rolling and banging to a stop.
Emma got to her hands and knees, shook out the cobwebs, and looked up – to see Cathy charging forward, claws outstretched.
Without breaking stride, Cathy grabbed two handfuls of hair and raced on with Emma in tow. Emma's head jerked back and she was pulled right off her feet. Cathy stopped and set her free.
Emma sailed backwards and landed hard, the momentum sending her somersaulting over and over. She clattered to a stop, flat on her back.
Cathy stepped close, a foot on each side of Emma's head, placing her weight down on the long hair radiating out from it. She reached down, grabbed each of Emma's arms by the wrist, and pulled.
The result was severe pain for Emma's scalp, more with each tug of her arms by Cathy.
"Ahhhh!" Emma was utterly shocked at the position she was in. This move could be found in no judo manual, is taught at no dojo.
***
Cathy's training, however, went well beyond the conventional martial arts. In Africa, for instance, she'd studied the fighting and hunting tactics of the local tribes. To develop her upper body, she'd worked out with a 500-year-old two-handed Claymore sword, with which she was now one of the world's foremost experts.
But this move she learned from her most unusual venture – women's professional wrestling. Or, to be more exact, joshi puroresu, Japanese women's wrestling.
She discovered it one summer when studying in Tokyo. She was completely mesmerized at these women flying through the air and slamming each other to the mat. She went, again and again, overcome with an urge to leap into the ring herself.
Finally, she did, showing up at the doors of the All Japan Women's Pro Wrestling Association and requesting a tryout. She was denied: "No gaijin wanted." But she persisted. She offered to wrestle their best woman, no rules.
They all laughed, except one man. Cathy later found out it was one of the powerful Matsunagas brothers. He agreed to the match, and offered his sister, the wrestling star Reiko Yoshiba, as Cathy's opponent.
Cathy, being unused to the ring and ropes, got bounced around pretty good. Reiko was strong and skilled in the martial arts, and her flying technique was particularly effective.
But Cathy had held her own, and it gave the promoters a thought: What about using this strong and beautiful gaijin – "round-eyed" -- woman as a heel, a target for audience abuse? Japan was still very much a closed, xenophobic nation; they could take advantage of it.
The plan worked beyond their hopes. Cathy, once trained in the rules and holds – and gimmicks – of joshi puroresu, became a featured attraction. She was booed and cursed from the moment she entered in the ring.
The fans' fury only increased as Cathy punished her Japanese opponent, always a fan favorite, and often her friend Reiko.
Being the heel, thought Cathy, was the life. The booing didn't bother her; in fact, she liked to taunt the ignorant fools. And her opponent had to do all the hard work – getting slammed to the mat, kicked in the back and thrown around by the hair.
Sure, they practiced. And, while they were supposed to pull back and not really hurt each other, the moves had to look convincing enough to sell. Sometimes mistakes happened.
Eventually some of the other girls did complain about Cathy's tactics. Some responded physically – not a good idea, against a black belt.
Cathy left anyway at the end of summer, so management didn't have to make a tough decision. The White Witch, as Cathy was known on the circuit, retired of her own accord.
The White Witch
Cathy did not pull back now. She was delivering the kind of beating she'd wanted to deliver in the ring, or in the dojo, or to her sisters.
Always then there was some rule against really hurting someone. And, while winning was good, beating someone soundly was even better.
Now there were no rules. Cathy could thrash Emma as badly as she wanted to.
She was even cast in the role of heel again, with the audience of one – Steed – rooting against her. She saw the worried look on his face. His precious Mrs. Peel was losing, was getting beaten before his very eyes.
As if she needed incentive!
Cathy picked up her right foot, planted it on Emma's raised chest. Lifting her left foot, her right came down with full weight bewteen Emma's breast, slamming her to the bamboo.
Emma thought she might crack under the blow. She rolled to her side, clutching her breast with both hands.
Cathy grabbed two handfuls of hair and started dragging Emma, kicking and screaming, across the floor. The women were now on the far end of the room from Steed, and Cathy was bringing the fight closer to his view.
Emma scrambled to her feet and tore at Cathy's hands. This brought well-placed kicks to her open sides and stomach. Emma fell to her knees under the blows.
Cathy spun on her left heel – around and again – swinging Emma helplessly behind by her hair. She let go and sent her, flying and tumbling, toward Steed.
Before Emma could react, Cathy was upon her – again and again. Always by the hair, always throwing and hauling her closer to Steed.
Cathy hurled Emma down in a heap, on her stomach, face forward, not 10 feet from Steed. He looked down, concerned.
"Mrs. Peel?"
Emma struggled to rise but, Steed saw, she was badly hurt. He didn't know what Cathy had in mind.
"Dr. Gale you've certainly proved your point," he said. "Very impressive indeed. Now perhaps…"
Cathy answered by stepping on Emma's back and driving her to the floor. Standing astride Emma, Cathy kneeled and sat down on the small of Emma back. At the same time, she grabbed Emma's arms and brought them up and across the top of her thighs.
She joined her hands under Emma's chin and pulled back – a camel clutch! She slid back onto Emma's buttocks and tugged down, bending Emma like a bow. She was compacting Emma's spine, causing great pain, and damage, to her back and neck. Emma gasped in pain.
"You may admit it at any time, Mrs. Peel," said Cathy, pulling harder. "Not the conditioner; I mean that I'm the better woman."
With no response from Emma, Cathy adjusted the hold. Keeping her hands cupped under Emma's chin, she slid backward, her butt to the floor. Emma, now on her knees, was bent back like a bow, her head bent back almost to her feet.
Emma's arms flailed helplessly; she couldn't reach Cathy to grab or strike her. Her back felt like it might snap.
First with her right hand and then her left, Cathy transferred her grip from Emma's chin to her hair. With two hands she yanked, leaning all the way back to the floor.
Emma couldn't believe the pain, all the pressure now bearing down on her spine, and now her scalp!
Cathy stretched the bow ever more taut. And when her strength could hold out no more -- she released it!
Emma shot face first to the floor, hitting with a crunch and bouncing twice.
Cathy stood, turned her back to Emma, reached down and grabbed her legs. She took Emma's right leg in her left hand and, bending it at the knee, tucked the foot under her armpit; she did the same on the other side.
Emma, face down on the floor, looked back in dread. What could this be?
With Emma's legs secure, Cathy sat down on Emma's rear, and pulled back with her upper body. It was a Boston crab – the victim's legs sticking up and out behind her tormentor are evocative of the crustacean's claws -- very popular in joshi puroresu. As a heel, Cathy got to apply it on Japanese heroines for agonizingly long periods. The "faces" howled and the crowd jeered.
The result was the same as the camel clutch; a crushed spine. Cathy kept sliding back until her weight was on Emma's back, then her shoulders, and then her head, tightening the hold with each move.
Emma felt ready to snap. A gutteral cry came from deep in her chest.
Cathy raised at the knees and stood. Keeping Emma's legs tucked under her arms, Cathy held Emma upside-down, her head and shoulders bouncing off the bamboo.
Emma was blessedly free of the back-breaking pain, but this if anything was worse. She tried to kick free, or grab Cathy's legs.
Before Emma's efforts could have an effect, Cathy flung her shoulders backward, bending at the knees, and tugging Emma along with her. Emma's body flew forward like a catapult. She watched the floor, the far wall and the ceiling go by with dizzying speed.
With Emma high over her head and flying forward ever faster, Cathy let go – and away Emma flew.
Next, in succession, came a scream, a rip and a thud.
The scream was from Emma when she saw she was heading directly at the Shoji screen. The rip was the sound of Emma going through the rice paper; the thud was Emma hitting the floor.
Steed cringed, and then admired the perfect likeness of Emma that had been cut into the rice paper. Her head, outstrestched arms and slim body were oulined in sillouette. Her feet sticking back into the dojo were all he could see of her.
He watched Cathy walk over, grab Emma's feet, and drag her back inside.
Up till now, Cathy had been rushing upon Emma after each move – delivering more pain before she could react.
Now, sensing the inevitable, she sauntered over to her brunette adversary. She reach down with her left hand, grabbed a shock of hair, and pulled her up.
Emma hung with two hands onto Cathy's as she was dragged to her feet. Though conscious, she was barely able to keep her feet under her.
Cathy understood, and she went to work with surgical precision. She buried a right into Emma's gut, then a left to the same spot, other side. An uppercut to the chin, a knee to small of the back, a solid left cross.
Though still on her feet, Emma was now essentially defenseless. Cathy was hitting her at will, with hard shots, delivered to produce pain.
Standing Emma up with a straight kick to the face, Cathy scooped her up, right hand between her legs and left on her shoulder.
Emma, balanced across Cathy's right shoulder, five feet in the air, looked down through bedraggled hair. She was helpless.
Cathy's turned and stepped toward Steed. Her weight was no burden at all to this super-woman, thought Emma.
Ten feet in front of Steed, Cathy stopped.
"Had enough?" she asked, not to Emma, but to Steed. "Must I do anything else to convince you?"
"Cathy, I never doubted you…"
Cathy shot Emma's backside up with her right hand, flipping her heels over head, to land hard on her back, right in front of Steed.
"Cathy, please…"
Reaching down with her right hand, Cathy grabbed Emma by the hair and pulled her to her knees. Emma barely resisted now, conscious but thoroughly out of it.
"This is what you picked over me," Cathy screamed at him, holding Emma up for display. "This pathetic wretch. Is this what you want next time your life is in danger? Is this who you expect to save you?"
"No, I, of course…" Steed stumbled on his words.
"Oh, shut up," Cathy hissed. "We all know what you wanted. This!"
With that she shoved Emma's face forward into Steed's crotch, rubbing it in. The next groan was from him.
Steed would be the first to admit that this exercise between these two beautiful women had been, er, stimulating. In fact, he'd sat in rapture since it started. Never had he witnessed anything sexier, or brutal, for that matter.
Now, he had what he'd been wishing for, dreaming of, for so long. Emma's face in his crotch! Oh, lord. The circumstances weren't what he'd call perfect, but still.
"You're enjoying this, aren’t you?" Cathy screamed as she jammed Emma's face in, harder.
