[bcw8]

He had the hall built for this. It was thirty feet long and eight feet wide. The walls were glass, unbreakable. The lighting was indirect; the kind of light one experiences at dusk. Two young tigresses roamed the glass. They were dim shadow-shapes, one on each side, restlessly moving.  At times they stopped to sniff the glass where small holes had been drilled to allow scents to flow.  A rank musk of a male escaped from a small nozzle to mix with the odor of the other female.  Both cats were in heat, and the smell inflamed them. The well-dressed people who stood on the catwalk over the hall sipped their cocktails and waited. The low purring snarls of the big cats didn’t register in their hearing.
Brittle and agitated, one cat pawed her glass, with a short coughing roar, her ears back. Her rival answered, lips pulled back from fangs.  The crowd laughed nervously.

In rooms at each end of the hall, two young women also waited. He made sure the tiger musk wafted here as well.  Like their feline sisters, they were ovulating, their bodies on edge;  their breasts were slightly swollen, their labia puffy and wet.  Artists were at work on their nude skin, finishing an elaborate striping. Half-masks were painted on their faces, spreading out from their mascaraed eyes. Their lips and nails were crimson, their teeth bleached white.  Two more big cats, soon to meet in the narrow hall.

One was a young Latina, jet black hair down her back, her skin a smooth olive color, her body lithe muscle but with voluptuously full breasts and ass. She loved the feel of the body paint, the hiss of the airbrush as the man striped her. She bit her lower lip as he did her inner thighs.  She felt like she was vibrating at an invisible rate. She had nearly cum while he painted her breasts; her brown nipples were achingly hard. She tuned and shivered as the paint streaked across her back.

One was white-skinned with flaming auburn hair stylishly short but long enough for a lover to grip tight. She was not so pale as many red-heads; her skin tanned with fetching freckles. Her eyes were emerald green.  Her artist had chosen a shade of umber for her that set her eyes and hair alight. She watched in the full-length mirror as he worked carefully across her flat stomach, kneeling in front of her. She pictured his tongue parting her pussy and tilted her hips just a fraction of a inch in an unthinking invitation that he ignored.

Their names were Lupe, and Gwen.  They were about to fight, between the tigers. There would be no rules, no limits.

[catfightfan_2000]

Love the buildup...can’t wait for this story to take shape! Love this storyline!

[bcw8]

A soft tone told them there were five minutes to go.  The artists had finished and left; the body paint was fantastic; their bodies rippled as they moved.  It was as erotic as it was exotic.  The two women paced their rooms as restlessly as their feline sisters roamed their enclosures, both women on the verge of exploding from the tension of suppressed violence and sexuality. 

They were two beautiful women, with vastly different backgrounds, but as alike in many ways.   They knew each other.  They hated each other. This collison was unavoidable.  Revenge smoldered well as a slow burn, coals banked, ever ready to burst into flames again. 

How did they know each other?

Lupe was the daughter of wealthy Columbians who made thousands in real estate and much much more in the drug trade. Her wild adolescence had been spent in fine finishing schools in the US and UK, and she had been expelled from most of them for fucking and fighting anyone she could.  Only one cruel headmistress had ever come close to taming her.  At age twenty Lupe had returned for revenge; the woman - Gwen’s aunt - was found bound in the basement of her house, barely alive, her breasts whipped to bloody shreds. 

Gwen was from a Welsh mining family, all hardscrabble, no education to speak of, but for that aunt.  Her girl-next-door looks had opened doors, and once in London she kicked a few down as well.  With the connections she’d made, she met Lupe’s father, and became his lover whenever he visited the city.  She hoped to use this to trap Lupe, to avenge her family.  But it was Lupe’s mother who found her, and came at the young redhead with a knife.  Gwen beat her nearly dead, took the knife, and scarred her breasts with a cross-hatch of deep slashes. All this while Lupe’s father watched.

They had circled each other in London, Lupe and Gwen. Waiting for the moment. He was a wealthy Russian, an acquaintance and rival of Lupe’s father. He knew of the festering blood feud. He offered them both the opportunity for satisfaction, much richer than a catfight in a Soho nightclub. He only wished to channel it into spectacle.  He introduced them to the tigers.

For a month, he had teased the two women in practical captivity at this place. Each knew the other was near.  Expertly, he built a wall of tension, a brick at a time.  First, through the cats. Each woman was brought into the care and feeding of her cat, so her smell was now associated with pleasure and reward.  At the same time, each woman’s odor had also been imprinted on the opposite cat, her rival’s new pet, with creatively negative stimuli. Each appearance turned that cat savage, attacking the glass.  A subtle reminder.

More directly, he tormented Lupe and Gwen both with a stream of lovers supplied for nights of passionate play, young men paid handsomely to inflame them but deny them any climax.  Masturbation was forbidden, a ban enforced with constant surveillance even as they slept and immediate interruption anytime their fingers strayed between their thighs.  For two young women so accustomed to sex, this frustration, honed to a knife’s edge, was powerful.  Each began to associate their coming war with release. Both dreamed of the orgasms she’d enjoy from her enemy’s suffering.

Most directly of all, he teased them with each other.  Three times they had been led separately to a room where they were stripped naked and pitted in oh-so-brief battles - before being pulled apart and caged in their rooms again.  Tantalizing appetizers of violence. A taste of the other cat. Always with the promise of the hall of cats in their future.  The picture he wove for them was a catnip sachet that drove them wild.  An audience.  A tight, closed space. Their costumes painted on to them.  The unrestrained fight to the very finish, the chance to fight like the tigresses fought. 

The five minutes were almost gone.  Behind their doors, they dropped to crouches. Their bodies were violin strings tightened to the snapping point.  Their tigers could smell them, they could tell from the low sounds that penetrated to them.

Two locks clicked. Two doors swung open. Two bodies flung forward. Two tigers roared and clawed the glass.

[DoubleT2]

Fantastic story telling and writing!

[bcw8]

Gwen and Lupe closed the thirty feet in two heartbeats as the two big cats reared, spun away, then crashed to the glass with fangs bared.  The spectators overhead gasped as the two women collided hard, a tornado of fists and nails and screams.  Lupe turned her shoulder into Gwen’s chest and pounded her into the wall even as the redhead clawed at her face.  Gwen braced her ass against the glass and shoved, slamming the dark-haired girl across into the opposite wall.  Lupe’s big tits swung wildly.  She screamed and rammed back.  Gwen half-turned and took the charge in her ribs.  Lupe lifted and drove her to the floor.  Gwen kicked up, spearing her in the belly.

They broke apart, already panting hard, skin gleaming with sweat.  The tigers paced the glass, snarling.  The women’s scents boiled in their nostrils.  Gwen grinned and dragged her nails on the glass. 

“Your daddy was a lousy fuck, you little bitch.  It was more fun to rip your mama,” she said to Lupe.  “A fair fight, too - not the way you took my aunt by surprise.” 

“Fuck you whore,” Lupe spat back at her.  She charged again and this time Gwen caught her hair at each temple and took her sideways, driving her face into the glass.  The big cat just on the other side was Gwen’s, and she sprang at Lupe, her claws raking at the glass even as Gwen slammed Lupe’s body into it, flattening her breasts and belly.

“Kitty wants to kill you as bad as I do,” Gwen snarled as she gripped the back of Lupe’s neck with one hand and clawed her ass with the other.  Lupe twisted to face her and both women stabbed nails into the other’s tits. 

“Your auntie begged,” Lupe said through clenched teeth.  “She was pathetic.  You will beg too.  Paint on your body does not make you a cat!”  She drove Gwen backwards with a brutal knee between her thighs, still gripping the white girl’s tits, dragging them down and out.  Gwen’s back and ass hit the glass and Lupe’s knee slammed her again.  “I’ll destroy your filthy cxnt, you whore,” the Latina promised.  “‘I will tear your tits off!”  She pounded her brown breasts into the redhead’s pale ones and clawed her pussy.  Gwen wailed in pain, a sound the two tigers mimicked.  The coppery smell of blood joined the thick taste of tiger musk and female sweat.

Now it was Lupe’s tiger who tried to leap onto Gwen’s back, bouncing off the glass with a yelp.  Lupe smiled and drove half her hand up Gwen’s pussy.  The redhead’s scream ratcheted up to a shrill cry of agony.  The onlookers above were initially stunned by the savage ferocity of the two girls, the unsettling proximity of the two raging tigresses.  But as Gwen ripped at Lupe’s neck and tits to save herself, bloodlust overcame shock. The first shout of “Kill her!” rang down.  As Lupe retaliated with another knee, this one into Gwen’s belly under her navel, another watcher screamed it as well: calls just as savage as those from the cats. 

They broke apart again.  The body paint was water-fast; their now-profuse sweat didn’t affect their masks or tiger-stripes.  The latter were now accented by blood-stripes slashed in their flesh.  Gwen’s breathing was labored.  Lupe’s gorgeous skin was riddled with angry welts and cuts, but she sneered contemptuously at the white girl who hunched forward slightly over her battered belly and savaged pussy. 

“You are weak,” Lupe said.  “You think you are strong because you fought an old woman?  I’ve promised my tiger she can lap up your blood that I spill.”  She drove her right fist into Gwen’s left breast, then her left fist into her right.  Gwen jerked and skittered in pain, her back smacking into the wall.  Ten brown fingers sank deep into her freckled titflesh, pinning her and lifting her.  Lupe’s eyes were bright.  Her breath was hard too, from arousal on top of exertion.  She crushed Gwen’s tits with all her strength and felt the shiver of a building orgasm as the redhead girl sobbed in savage pain.  “I did sucker punch your bitch aunt,” Lupe told Gwen, “I took her from behind and still she put up more fight than you.”  She squeezed and lifted. “Her old tits took more than your fat flabby bags.”

Gwen’s strength was ebbing.  Her pulse hammered in her ears; her vision blurred.   Lupe twisted her grip and a strangled cry of pure agony burst from Gwen.  Blood ran between Lupe’s fingers and down the backs of her hands. Lupe’s tiger put a paw on the wall, claws fully out, and scored the glass with a dragging swipe. 

“No,” Gwen sobbed.

Lupe smashed her knee into the redhead’s pussy again.

“No what, bitch?” she hissed.  “No more?”

[catftluver]

wow, don't stop now!! I can almost feel the hate they have for each other.

[SunnyB]

Mmm, a real MEAOW of a fight! 

[bcw8]

Gwen raised her fists and slammed them down on Lupe’s collarbones.  The brunette gasped in pain.  Gwen slammed her again, and again, until Lupe’s arms went numb.

“No, you cxnt,” Gwen raged.  “You won’t beat me!”  She wrenched Lupe’s arm behind her back and drove her tits-first into the glass.  She rammed her knee into the back of Lupe’s thigh, and buckled her leg. Lupe screamed and collapsed, with the redhead riding her to the floor.

“Break her arm!” someone shouted down.  Gwen tried, with all her might, her knee planted in Lupe’s spine.  Lupe shrieked and twisted as her shoulder torqued, one breast escaping out from under her.  The target was too inviting - Gwen released her arm and jammed the heel of her hand down into it, squashing it on the floor.  Lupe’s legs flailed, then braced and she rolled. Gwen flung herself on her.

Gwen’s tiger roared, fangs bared.  Gwen’s teeth closed around one of Lupe’s dark nipples.  One claw curled into the Latina’s throat; the other hooked into her pussy.  Lupe screamed as if the sufferings of hell washed over her.  The spectators above fell silent.  The cats cowered, ears back, tails tucked.  Gwen bored into Lupe, harder.  Lupe beat and slashed at her but without much effect.  Gwen opened her mouth more to take in more breast, and bit down. Blood ran from her lips.  The sounds she made were less human than the tigers behind the glass.

Somehow, Lupe threw Gwen off, the redhead’s skull colliding with the wall.  Lupe rolled, and crawled, and collapsed.  They lay about ten feet apart, both bleeding and spent.  The cats sniffed, and growled urgently.   It was as if they were the mistresses now, exhorting their pets to fight on.  No surrender.  No mercy.  Be worthy of your stripes.  The two women struggled up, together.

Gwen grinned, showing Lupe her bloodied teeth.  Lupe fingers curled, and flexed, her nails painted with Gwen’s blood over lacquer. Nature red in tooth and claw.  Nothing left but hate and instinct.  They clashed again.  The tigers roared approval. 

Gwen dug her nails into the deep bite marks weeping blood from Lupe’s breast.  Lupe headbutted Gwen in the face and went for her throat with her teeth.  A last-second desperation grip in her dark hair pulled her mouth down to Gwen’s trapezius slope.  Gwen’s fist drove into Lupe’s belly.  They pinballed between the two walls in a staggering battle.  Each time they hit the glass a big cat would spring at them and fall back. 

They were young, strong, rage-fueled and driven now by their month of building tension.  It was a brutal frenzy now, an incredible orgy of female ferocity.  Lupe reverted to her savage attack on Gwen’s pussy, hammering her knee into it.  Gwen’s cycle-swollen clit and labia were in agony from the battering, but every shot drove her closer to orgasm too.  In turn, she ripped and tore at Lupe’s breasts, raking the brown blood-engorged nipples.  Lupe wept with pain but also shuddered on the cliff-edge of climax.  They ground together now, full body-on-body.

The crowd above them clutched the catwalk railing and held their breath.  The cats paced, faster and faster.  Gwen pinned Lupe to the glass, her paler thigh between two darker ones.  “Ohh Goddddd,” Lupe sobbed.  Gwen had her tits, twisted and stretched them.  That thigh, on her clit.  “Nooooooooooooooooo!”  She bucked - convulsed.  The cats reacted to the new scent as Lupe’s juices squirted, her lush ass quivering on the glass.  The redhead’s triumph lasted less than a second, however.  The smell and the wet and the sound triggered her as well.  For maybe five long seconds they trembled together, their hips pumping in rhythm.  “Fuuuuck,” Gwen moaned weakly.  Their striped stomachs slapped.  Their paint-masked faces were cheek to cheek.  Wet skin smeared across the glass.  Together in la petite mort.  The cats half-snarled, half-purred.

Oh god, it wasn’t enough.  Lupe’s hands slid down Gwen’s back to her ass.  Gwen mirrored her.  They violently fucked each other against the glass.  Gwen’s mouth was open as she gasped. Lupe’s face darted forward and she bit the white girl’s lower lip while her clit lashed into Gwen’s.  “Uunnnnnnnnh!” Gwen cried inarticulately as another orgasm hit her, harder than any ever given her by a lover.  Blood and girl-cum ran from her battered pussy down her thighs.  She fainted, falling limp under Lupe’s pounding thrusts.  The brunette let her fall, into a heap at her feet.

[bcw8]

Lupe leaned against the glass, her breasts and belly heaving, her eyes closed. It was nearly a minute before she opened them again, and she looked around the hall almost as if she didn’t know where she was.  She cupped her bitten breast, wincing as she did.

Gwen stirred.  She rolled from her side to her back, her battered tits jutting up and out.

Lupe looked up to the catwalk. The watchers looked down. She locked eyes with one man.

“Your belt,” she said.

He nodded, unbuckled it, dropped it to her. She looped it through its buckle and slid the noose over Gwen’s head and pulled it tight around her throat. Gwen’s eyes fluttered open.

“Kitty’s got a leash now,” Lupe said to her, and stood. She wrapped the leather strap around her fist and lifted. Gwen’s shoulders and chest came off the floor, her breasts lolling out, her head tilted back. Her short auburn hair just dragged. She made a coughing, choking sound, not unlike the tigers.

Lupe dragged her down the hall. Then back. The tigers followed them on their sides of the glass. Gwen was limp, her arms and legs unresponsive.  Her face was blotched nearly as red as her hair, her lips slightly blue despite her lipstick. Lupe looked up again.

“Do you like my pet?” she called to the onlookers.  A few laughed.  “I’ve declawed her,” Lupe said.  She looked down at Gwen.  “Defanged her. Fucking destroyed her.  She’s nothing now.  Is that enough?”

“No,” the man without a belt said. Lupe smiled.

“Fucking right it’s not,” she said. She shook the leash.  Gwen’s hair whipped.  Her tits swayed back and forth.  “Get up, kitty,” Lupe said.  “You may be finished.  I’m not.  Not until you’re dead.”

Hand over hand, she pulled up on the belt.  Gwen came up to her knees, then shakily to her feet.  Her breathing was ragged, and shallow, through her mouth.  Lupe held the belt close to Gwen’s throat, tilting her head back, and moved into her, body to body, pressing her to the glass.  She licked her face, tasting her tears and the blood on her bitten lip.  She searched the redhead’s half-open eyes.  She wanted to drink in her defeat, bathe in her dulled submission.  “Can you hear me, bitch?” she purred. 

Gwen’s fist plunged into Lupe’s guts.  Her strength was much reduced, but the Latina was totally, arrogantly, unprepared.  It hurt her.  She lost her grip on the belt, and that gave Gwen the room to return the headbutt she’d taken before.  She smashed Lupe’s nose.  Lupe staggered back two steps and fell on her ass.  Gwen worked her fingers under the belt at her throat, ripped it off.  With more luck than skill, she whipped it into Lupe’s face, buckle out.  The metal crunched into the brunette’s cheekbone, gashed it open.  Lupe flopped sideways, stunned.  Gwen fell to her knees.  She was badly weakened but the damage she’d just done to Lupe shot a spurt of adrenaline into her bloodstream. 

“I’m not finished either,” she gasped.  She lashed the belt across Lupe’s tits, ripping an agonized scream from her foe, then threw it aside.  She wanted to do this with her bare hands.  Lupe was dazed, her dark hair across her face.  Gwen simply punched through it.  She spoiled what was left of Lupe’s beauty, pounding her face to pulp.  Blood spattered on the glass.  The tiger - Lupe’s tiger - futilely licked the other side.

He waited, for as long as he could, out of curiosity as to whether Gwen would stop on her own.  Even though she could barely lift her arms now, she didn’t.  Not even after it was clear to everyone that Lupe was unconscious.  He nodded, and two men entered the hall.  The tigers roared.  They pulled Gwen away.  She struggled briefly, but surrendered to a second faint herself as the took her down the hall.  Two more came for Lupe.

The belt had been nice, he thought.  Whips would be better; like lion tamers  A month to heal, that should be enough.  He had two lionesses as well. 

[DoubleT2]

The smell and taste of blood always creates a frenzy among fighting cats!