The three of us set out in plenty of time, Erica driving and Stacey in the passenger seat while I sit in the back enjoying the space. We chat happily but the further north we get the worse the weather becomes and the traffic slows. What should have been a three hour journey soon becomes five. By the time we arrive at the farm the evening’s events are about to start, although I still have a good two hours before my match with Mitzi.
Our hosts, Sian and her daughter Shannon, usher us into the farm house and up to our guest room before heading for the barn where the fights are taking place.
Stacey leaves us soon after to check out the action leaving me alone with Erica to prepare. The room is warm and cosy and we both slip out of our clothes and lie together naked on the double bed. Erica and I have become very close over the last few years. Not only do we workout and train together, we’ve also become occasional bedfellows. While there will be no sex before the match, we enjoy cuddle while I reassure her that I’ll be fine, whatever the outcome of the fight.
Around 9:15 Stacey reappears and tells us that it’s time to get ready. She also tells us that, in addition to Kelly, there are at least three other members of our club present, including Jill and Paige who are filming the event.
Well, that’s that then. There’s no way I can keep this secret now. With just two weeks to the start of the senior wrestling tournament I have no doubt Paige will relay tonight’s event to her mother, who just happens to be my opponent in the first round.
As we walk out of the farm house and cross the courtyard to the barn, I feel the chill of the winter night and, despite my robe, my nipples harden. We enter the barn and slip off our robes in the ante-room before walking into the brightly lit arena. We enter to the sound of applause, but it isn’t for me.
In the ring Sian is holding up the arm of a tall redhead of about my age while a shorter, more curvaceous blonde lays on the mat clutching herself. A dozen or so naked women sit on a line of hay bales clapping while Paige, in the ring holding a small video camera, pans between the redhead and her fallen victim. The red corner is at the far end of the line of bales and a neutral corner is nearest to us.
I don’t pay it much attention; I’m focused on my fight. The redhead leaves the ring by the red corner, where Mitzi is already waiting for me, and takes a seat at the end of the row. The blonde is helped out of the ring by a couple of other women and staggers past us, supported by one of them, towards the ante-room.
We are steered to the right and past the table where Shannon sits with a bell and the time clock. Next to her sits Jill with an array of video equipment in front of her. Paige is squatting by the ropes talking to her. She’s wearing nothing but a headset and for a moment I wonder where she’s hidden the transmitter. Jill turns around and they both wish me luck.
Sian beckons us into the ring. As I climb into the blue corner I look across at my opponent, I haven’t seen her in two years but she looks the same as ever. Tanned, fit and with the slightly sexy swagger of a disco queen. I’m 53, almost 54, she has recently turned 46 but could pass for 30 in the right light. Suddenly I feel old.
Sian announces us to the audience:
“Ladies, now it’s time for our main event. A no holds barred, bare knuckle boxing match between, on my right, our own little firebrand – Mitzi! And on my left, our visitor from the south – Ellen!”
There are no measurements or other details, just our names.
Our seconds set about taping our hands as Sian explains the rules of the bout:
“This is a fight to the finish over an unlimited number of 5-minute rounds with 2-minute breaks between each round. Hands are taped to avoid wresting moves but fists, feet, knees and heads may all be used. A fighter may be attacked as long as they are on their feet. As soon as their knees, bum or any other body part touches the canvas they are considered knocked down and the other fighter must stop their attack and retreat to a neutral comer. In the event of a knock down I will administer a count. A 20 count will end the fight and the bell will ring four times to signal a knockout.
I will remain in the ring throughout the fight but, other than administering the count, I will not intervene unless I feel one fighter has sustained a life changing injury. Paige will also remain in the ring to film but will keep out of the fighters’ way at all times.
May the best woman win!”
The words “life changing injury” ring in my head as I look across at my opponent and her seconds. As well as Kelly, her niece, Mitzi is being supported by a chubby Mediterranean looking girl with large, swollen breasts. Stacey tells me she's been told her name is Maria and she fought Paige earlier in the evening (although Stacey didn't see the match).
The bright lights above us and heaters in corners of the barn take the chill off the night but it’s still far from hot in here. None the less everyone is naked and no one is shivering. Taking in my surrounding I notice that, as well as the audience there are three cameras on tripods facing into the ring from the other three side. They swivel in unison and I guess Jill is controlling them from her position off to my left.
The girls finish taping my hands and Erica fusses over me while we wait for Mitzi to be ready. Sian comes over and checks my hands before crossing the ring to inspect Mitzi’s. Satisfied we were both suitably bound she calls “seconds out”.
Erica slips my gumshield in, kisses me on the cheek and says: “Good luck” – then she’s gone and I’m alone. I get to my feet and eye my opponent as she does the same.
The bell rings and we advance on cautiously, fists raised. For the first minute or so we just circle each other slowly. I try to close on her but each time she steps away.
“Are we fighting or dancing?” I goad, she doesn’t answer.
As we shuffle around, me pressing for an attack and her drawing me in and then sidestepping or turning away to avoid contact, I take a moment to size her up. Seven years younger than me and three inches shorter, she’d been ten pounds lighter when we last met three years ago. I’ve put on a couple of pounds since then but she’s probably put on a good bit more. Now there’s only four or five pounds difference between us.
She looks good, if slightly chubbier the last time we met. Her skin is well tanned, her breasts firm and round with brown areola and large nipples. Her face is framed with thick black curly hair that reaches down to her shoulders and, in contrast to my neatly trimmed quim, her pubic region is also a thick mass of black hair. Her armpits are also quite well forested giving her a very Mediterranean look.
By contrast I’m fair and pale with smaller, pink nipples and areola. My hair is also loose, curly(ish) and shoulder length, but blonde. My armpits are shaved and my pubic hair neatly trimmed,
Our ‘dance’ continues for about two minutes until, eventually, I see an opening and send a straight right which connects with her left breast, flattening it. She counters with a left hook that catches me on the jaw. Ouch! I’d forgotten how much bare knuckles hurt. I stagger slightly and, suddenly, she’s all over me raining punches on my sides. I cover up and back off until I’m trapped on the ropes. I’m hunched up, arms protecting my face and boobs, sat on the middle rope as she continues to rain uncontrolled punches on me. I look for a way out, dropping my guard as I do so. Bam! A right hook catches my temple and I go down.
Sian starts counting. She counts quite quickly and, although I’m only slightly dazed, I panic and rush to get up. I make it one knee at 6 and then remember it’s a 20 count so I rest there, only getting to my feet at 15.
I’m determined to even things up. We face off again and this time it’s me going on the attack. Another close and furious exchange of blows ends when I drive three short right hooks into the side of her head and she goes down on her side. I step back to the neutral corner and Sian starts counting.
Mitzi pops up almost immediately and the count stops at 6. She’ll regret that. She’s still woozy and a couple of well placed punches put her down on her back again.
Sian steers me to a neutral corner and starts counting again. I look up at clock hanging on the barn all. Although she’s counting faster than I’m used to, I realise Sian is actually counting accurate seconds.
This time Mitzi takes a 12 count before getting to her feet. We square off again but this time we’re both more cautious, keeping each other at arm’s length with searching jabs until the bell signals the end of the first round and we return to our corners.
“Team Ellen” are jubilant, both Erica and Stacey reassuring me that I’m doing great. In a regular club boxing match I’d definitely have taken the round by 8 points to 4. But this isn’t a regular club match. Even after one round I’m breathing heavily, my fingers ache and every place she’s landed a blow is hurting. The two minute breaks give time to get breath back and ease muscle tensions and by the time we come out for the second round I’ve recovered at lot of my energy.
The bell goes for round two and we square off again. This time she’s a bit more confident and we’re soon mixing it up at close quarters.
We trade punches fairly evenly for a minute or more until a left hook to my belly doubles me up and knee to my jaw puts me down for a count of 13.
Back on my feet I fight back and a right hook finds its way through her guard and connects with her jaw. She goes down but, once again, pops up quickly and stands unsteadily, only to go down again a few punches later.
This time she stays down longer and, when she does get up, we start trading punches again. Her style is fairly undisciplined, lots of hay makers that leave her open to my jabs, but she has a solid punch and, with bare knuckles, I certainly feel every blow that connects. I catch her on the temple with a left hook and she goes on the back foot.
With a flurry of blows I push her back into a neutral corner and I pin her in place. My left forearm is under her chin, pressing on her throat while my right fist strikes home on her pussy. Two hard punches to her cxnt produce a grunt and scream from her. Then I start to grind her pussy with the knuckles of my right fist. She’s is squealing as I mash her clit. Her right arm is trapped between our bellies but her left is free. She throws a left hook that connects with my right eye and I spin away to my right. I’m alongside her on the ropes. Her freed right arm swings round and catches me across the belly. A full blow from her forearm. I double up and drop to my knees clutching my belly.
When I start to rise, she’s still behind me. As I get to me feet a double axe blow to my back drops me back to my knees and a kick to my backside sends me sprawling.
“Foul!” shouts Erica from my corner, but Sian ignores it and starts counting.
I lay face down on the canvas, conscious that Mitzi is still behind me in the neutral corner and consider my next move. As the count reaches 10 I roll onto my back and launch a kick straight between her legs. My foot buries itself in her thatch and she drops her knees on top of me. For a moment she rains punches down on my upturned face and breasts until Sian moves in to separate us.
Sian starts counting and we roll apart. Slowly we get to our knees and then as the count reaches 15, stand facing each other. We’re both breathing hard and soaked in sweat. Red welts show all over our bodies.
She still has a back to the corner as we face off and trade punches. A right uppercut connects with her jaw and snaps her head back. She staggers back into the corner just as the bell rings for the end of the round.
I stand watching for a moment as she slumps on the turnbuckle and her seconds quickly slip a stool under her before I turn back to my own corner.
The break seems to pass a lot faster this time. I’ve taken a fair pounding over the 10 minutes we’ve been fighting and my body is a mass of red blotches, many of which will turn to bruises. More worryingly the impact of bare knuckles is abrading my skin in a few places. Erica applies Vaseline to the worst spots but cuts will almost certainly develop as the fight goes on.
We come out for round three and it’s more of the same. This time it’s first blood to me as, after a minute of closely fought toe-to-toe action I see an opening and fire of a straight right that catches full in the face sending her staggering into the ropes. I close in and a left-right combination to the belly brings her guard down, exposing her chin. A right hook finishes the job and she’s on the deck for a count of 15.
Then it’s my turn. After another full on exchange, she throws a left hook that catches me in the eye. For a moment I blind and instinctively raise my raise arm to protect my face. She cannons a series of blows into my right breast and I drop to my knees. I stay on my knees, clutching the offending mammary, until the count reaches 15 before launching myself directly at my opponent.
My attempt to surprise her fails as she sidesteps me and drives a fist into my gut. I end up hanging over the top rope clutching my belly but, crucially, still on my feet. She’s quickly behind me. She punches me in the kidneys and then delivers another double axe blow to my shoulders, pressing my boobs into the ropes. I raise my head and she boxes my ears before her knee finds its way between my thighs and turns my legs to jelly. I’m in serious trouble here. I can’t go down or fight back so I’m at her mercy. In a desperate attempt to save myself I flail my right arm behind me.
For a moment it has the desired effect, she backs off but I spin round and end up sitting on the middle rope with my left arm hooked over the top rope. Before I free myself a right cross slams into my jaw and the lights go out as I crash to the deck.
Sian is counting over me when I come to, face down along the ropes. I raise my head and see Eric and Stacey in my corner shouting at me to get up. Sian’s voice sounds far away although she’s standing only a couple of feet away. She’s at 10 already. I pull myself up on the ropes at 16 and turn to face my foe as she comes out of the opposing neutral corner.
I’m still in a bad way and cautiously take my guard. She senses my unease and comes at me guns blazing – a rookie mistake. She telegraphs a straight right. I duck under it and launch an uppercut that slams into her jaw. She staggers and I follow up with a left hook that puts her down for a count of 14.
When she gets to her feet I’ve recovered a bit while she’s more cautious. We go back to our dance routine for a while, me looking for an opening and her backing away. Eventually I back her into a corner and get a few solid punches into her sides and tits before she manages to drive a straight left into my right eye and I’m forced to back off.
My one fear before the match been but she may have learned kick-boxing and I would be the victim of high reaching kicks to the head. I’d even gone to the lengths of getting some defensive training from a kick boxer I knew.
Three rounds into the match we’re both tiring and she has yet to raise her knee above my waist or deliver a solid kick. That changes when she lands a blow to my belly which leaves me momentarily stunned, facing her with legs apart. She backs up a step and lashes out with her right leg, punting me in the pussy. Her shin hits my pubic bone and I drop to my knees clutching myself. As I do so I see her stumble away rubbing her shin. I thought I was well padded down there but obviously not. She won’t try that again in a hurry – at least I hope not.
I stay on my knees for a count of 15 before getting up and raising my guard again. I push out a few punches and she retreats hesitantly, favouring her right leg, but she soon shakes it off. We close on each other and for the next minute or so we’re back to toe-to-toe action.
The round ends without further incident, although we’re both clearly taking a battering. I return to my corner. A small cut, a nick, has opened up on my right nipple and a blob of blood has formed. Erica wipes it away but to soon comes back. Elsewhere on my body small cuts have appeared.
Round 4 gets under way and after an initial long range exchange we’re soon mixing it up again toe-to-toe matching each other punch for punch. Slowly we come closer together until, in unspoken agreement wrap our left arms around each other’s necks. A trial by pussy begins as we grind our right fists into each other’s love boxes. After 30 seconds or so of inflicting excruciating pain on each other she breaks the stalemate by pulling her arm back and delivering a short sharp punch to my cxnt. I let go of her and drop to my knees, hands between my legs. She staggers back into the neutral corner massaging her own pussy. We both make the most of the count and square off again when the count reaches 18.
This time we keep our distance, keen to protect our abused nether regions. I try to make my height and reach advantage count by aiming loping hooks at her temples. She counters with straight jabs to my boobs whenever one of my hooks exposes them. Varying my attack for a moment I drive a straight right under her raised guard and into her solar plexus. It strikes home hard. She staggers and drops to one knee clutching her chest. Her mouth opens and closes without a sound and tears well up in her eyes. She stays down on one knee for almost the whole count only coming to her feet at 19.
Obviously still not fully recovered she tries to close on me, going for a clinch, but I fire off a series of straight lefts and rights to her boobs and she steps away.
As she backs away I fire off my best punch of the fight so far. A right uppercut that starts near my pussy and connected with her jaw. Her head snaps back and she sits down hard with a blank look on her face. You can almost see the stars as she tried to get it together. For a long time she just sits there but at 12 she starts to push herself up and by 18 she’s on her feet.
Her expression is disconcertingly blank as she moves toward me with her arms by her sides. I raise my guard prepared for a wild strike. Instead she closes on me and drives her knee into my pussy. I go cross-eyed as she grabs my ears and head butts me in the face. I go down and now it’s me seeing stars as I kneel on the mat, left hand clutching my forehead and right hand between my legs.
At 15 I force myself back to my feet. We stand facing each other for a moment. Neither taking a guard or protecting ourselves. She telegraphs a punch and I block it. I fire off a couple, one of which strikes home.
She moves in close again and we grapple like wrestlers. I try to push her away but she wraps her arms around me in a sort of bear hug. We’re breast to breast, pussy to pussy, grinding together, smearing each other with our sweat and blood. She hooks her right foot behind my left leg and we topple over. She lands on top of me but her head hits the mat next to mine. She’s dazed for a moment but pinning me down. I roll us over and come to my knees, sitting on her belly. She looks up at me and I hit her with a right hook to the mouth. I’m about to follow it with a left but Sian comes up behind me, grabs me in a full nelson and hauls me away to a neutral corner before starting to count.
At 10 she sits up and looks across the ring at me, her bottom lip is split and blood is dripping down her chin and onto the canvas. She gets slowly to her feet and raises her guard to protect her face.
For the next minute or so she’s on the back foot and I get free reign as she covers up and retreats. I must have hit her 50 times or more before I finally manage to hook a punch under her elbows and connect with her breast plate. She drops to her knees and I back off. Sian starts counting but the bell goes at 9.
I go back to my corner as Kelly and Maria come into the ring and help Mitzi back to hers, where they set about cleaning her up and fixing her lip. From where I’m sitting, I can’t really see what’s happening over there. Mitzi sits in her corner with Maria stood in front of her and Kelly blocking our view of both of them.
“What are they up to?” Asks Erica.
Stacey climbs out of the ring and walks to where Paige stands against the ropes filming the action in the red corner. When she returns she simply says: “wet nurse”
For a moment it’s lost on me.
Erica says: “is that legal?”
“Well there’s nothing in the rules about it so I guess it is.”
Then I realise what they’re saying. Maria is lactating, presumably she’s not long had a baby, hence her swollen boobs. And Mitzi is getting an energy boost by suckling on her tits.
‘Cheating cow!’ I think, and then remember what Stacey said – nothing in the rules so it’s legal.
Damn! I could do with an energy boost right now, I wish I’d thought of it.
I glance down at my hands. My fingers are swollen and my knuckles are skimmed and bleeding. The tape is now tight and cuts into my palms.
I hear Shannon call “seconds out”. Erica slips my gumshield into my mouth and a few seconds later the bell rings for round five.
Revitalised by Maria’s milk and fired up over her split lip, Mitzi attacks me from the bell. I have no option but to cover up and retreat under a hail of punches. For a minute or more she rains punches on me as I cover up and retreat. Most of her blows are hitting my arms and shoulders but the odd few are connecting with my abs, belly and head. I feel sick and weak as I try to ride it out. Slowly she pushes me back into my own corner. I’m trapped and I start to slump against the turnbuckle. She continues to rain down blows but also starts delivering knee lifts to my pussy. One, two, three, four… the pain is too much. My hands go instinctively to my abused womanhood and a right cross lays me out.
The first thing I hear is Sian counting 6. I’m on my back along the ropes. Erica and Stacey are screaming at me to get up. I roll over and come to my hands and knees before eventually getting to my feet at 17. I’m unsteady. I struggle to focus as Mitzi swims into view. I raise my guard but she sweeps it aside. A right and a left to my jaw knocks me back against the ropes and a right uppercut connects with my pussy, pretty much lifting me off the mat. I collapse face down clutching myself.
This time Sian is at 10 when I raise my head. Again, I stagger to my feet, just beating the 20 count, and do my best to deflect another hail of blows. The good news, such as it is, is that the pace of her assault has taken its toll. She’s breathing hard, her blows are becoming lighter and more ragged, She might just be punching herself out.
She finds a way under my guard and drives a hard right into my belly. I double up. She moves next to me and, in a wrestling style move, wraps her left arm around my neck pulls me into a side headlock before delivering three rights to my face. I drop to my knees. She releases her hold and I drop to all fours as Sian starts counting. I can feel blood trickling from my nostrils and I think my nose may be broken.
As the count rises, I stay on my hands and knees, head down with a pool of blood forming on the mat below my face. At 15 I get wearily to my feet and resume my guard. She’s definitely tired now and I’m able to keep out of her way and dodge most of her punches, keeping my guard up to protect my poor nose. For a minute or so I manage to hold her off until a right hook I didn’t see coming strikes my left temple and I go down again.
Still dazed, I make it back to my feet at 17, my arms swinging freely by my sides. Before I can get my guard up, she sends another right uppercut into my love box. I scream and drop back to the canvas clutching myself. On my knees I pitch forward, arse in the air and head resting on the mat, sobbing loudly. I stay there until the count reaches 13 before getting slowly to my feet. Tears are pouring down my face, a cut has opened up on my left temple and blood is still trickling out of my nose and dripping from my chin. All round I look a complete mess.
I raise my guard in preparation of another onslaught. Mitzi closes in and lands a couple of tentative blows on my upper arms before the bell sounds for the end of the round.
I stagger back to my corner and literally collapse onto my stool.
This has been my worst round so far and I return to my corner tired and dejected. I’ve been dominated throughout the round. Knocked down five times and hardly got a blow in. I ache all over and I’m covered in blood.
The girls play ‘good cop, bad copy’ with Erica berating me for letting her get the upper hand while Stacey reassures me that I’m doing fine and just need to focus to get back into the match.
Between them they clean me up and managed to stem my nose bleed and the cut on my temple before the bell sounds for round six.
I start round six hesitantly. I’ve taken a beating and, although the two minute break helped, I’m still feeling very fragile. She senses my unease and I’m soon covering up under another barrage of, mainly wild and random, punches. She seems to work on the principle that if she hits me enough times one punch will do some damage – and eventually it does.
A right hook connects with my jaw, everything goes black for a second and the next thing I know I’m staring at the ceiling. This time the first number I hear from Sian’s count is 8. I roll over and come slowly to my knees, waiting until 17 before standing. As I do so I sense a trickle of blood running down my left cheek.
I steel myself for another assault but it doesn’t come. She’s standing off a bit, breathing hard and seems reluctant to attack. I start pushing out a few punches of my own and she backs away. Her behaviour over the next minute or so confirms my feeling that she’s punched herself out. She’s slowed up a lot and is backing off from some of my attacks. Encouraged, I step it up a gear. Now it’s me with the flailing fists and her hunkering down and retreating. At least to begin with. Then she seems to stiffen her resolve. We go toe to toe for about half a minute before stepping back and taking a breather.
We come together in another flurry of body blows, eventually collapsing into each other in a sort of clinch. Our left arms are around each other’s necks, her right is around my back and she pounds feebly at my right shoulder as I piston weak punches into her left breast. She sinks slowly to her knees. I step back and she flops, face down on the mat. Sian steers me to a neutral corner and starts to count. I slump against the turnbuckle, desperately sucking in air.
Mitzi pushes herself up on her elbows at 9, then rises to hands and knees and eventually staggers to her feet at 17.
She stands swaying in front of me, arms limp at her sides. Both her nipples are now leaking blood and fluid. I look down and realise that while my right nipple is also weeping my left breast is also now split as well.
She raises her hands in a half guard and lowers her head, nodding slightly. I close on her and fire off a right hook. It connects with her temple and she goes down again.
She gets to her feet at 15 and immediately returns the complement, catching me off guard. I stagger back against the ropes before collapsing in a heap. Again, I miss the start of Sian’s count, too dazed to take in my surroundings, but at 12 I pull myself up on the ropes, take my guard and advance towards her. As I do so I see her left eyebrow is split and blood is flowing freely, the result of my right hook.
At that moment the bell sounds and we gratefully retreat to our corners. We’ve been in the ring for 45 minutes now and fighting for half an hour. We are both exhausted. Our bodies are covered in blood from small cuts and bruises as well as the more major injuries we’ve sustained
Erica mops a sweat and blood from my body as Stacey offers me a drink before taking each arm and give it a vigorous massaging shake. Erica stands back in fans me with a towel. I look around her as best I can at my opponent’s corner. I see that Mitzi is once again suckling on Maria’s breast while Kelly bends around Maria to wipe the blood from Mitzi’s forehead.
My eyes are puffed and swollen I look out through slits to see that my opponent is in the same state. Sooner or later one of us will be blind and leave themselves open to the knockout blow they can’t see. I hope it’s her, not me.
A detached part of my mind notices that the sound of our audience has changed. For the first two rounds it was polite applause. That gave way progressively to calls of encouragement on both sides. Now there are catcalls and shouts of abuse as the ladies become more partisan, egging their chosen fighter on.
The bell sounds and we face off for round seven. I’m not sure how much longer I can keep going but I look at her and realise she’s probably feeling as bad as I do.
We come together and mix it up again. Neither of us really have to energy to dance much any more so we just come together and throw punches at each other until we collapse into each other’s arms. For a moment we wrestle until my knee finds its way between her thighs and strikes home.
She screams and drops to her knees, clutching herself. I back off to a neutral corner and Sian starts counting. She’s back on her feet at 15 and we return to trading punches for another minute or so until a wild left cross from her catches me on the jaw and I go down on my back again.
I take my time getting up, finally getting to my feet at 18 and facing off again. The dance continues but it’s slowed considerably. We’re both exhausted. For a moment she drops her guard. I see my chance and fire off a right hook that connects with her jaw. The blow hurts my hand. She goes down hard on her side and lies still as Sian starts counting. As the count rises so do the butterflies. Be still my trembling heart, I may just have won this.
But no, at 11 she stirs and at 18 she gets to her feet. She staggers a bit and her eyes are glazed. I seize the moment and go on the attack. A series of blows to her body and face push her back into her own corner. Instinctively she raises her guard to protect her face, exposing her tits in the process.
Punch, punch, punch.
I drive my fists into her boobs repeatedly. She slumps in the corner doing her best to cover up. Eventually her arms drop to her sides. She’s sitting on the bottom turnbuckle looking up at me. I hit her face again and again.
Punch! Punch! Punch!
Her split lip is bleeding again, her eyes are closed. Eventually her bum hits the mat and Sian steers me away to a neutral corner.
Mitzi is slumped on the deck. She seems completely out of it. Sian is counting. Kelly is shouting at Mitzi but she’s not moving. I’m watching for any sign she might get up. I know I’m spent. The adrenaline is ebbing away and I feel exhausted. The count reaches 12. Mitzi turns her head to the right and retches. She spits out her gum shield and with it a string of bile and blood. Kelly and Maria are shouting at her to get up but all she does is wave feebly. Behind me Erica and Stacey are cheering. They think I’ve won. I start to relax as the count reaches 16…and then the bell goes.
“Noooooo!” I don’t know if I say it or just think it but I drop to my knees. I feel sick. She’s been saved by the bell. I know I’m done. That was my last shot. If she comes out for the next round she’s won.
I’m in tears as Erica and Stacey help me to my feet and back to my corner.
Across the ring Kelly and Maria have Mitzi on her stool and are working feverishly on her. Maria proffers her breasts to Mitzi’s swollen lips and Mitzi suckles hungrily.
As the two minutes draws to a close Maria steps aside and I see my opponent again. She still looks a mess of cuts and bruises but she’s cleaned up and seems focused as she stares at me intently across the ring. My heart sinks, I know I’m finished.
The bell rings and Erica and Stacey shout encouragement and slap me on the back as I get wearily to my feet and advance on my foe. She’s also moving slowly but with determination. We close on each other hesitantly, fists raised and rocking back and forth. I throw a right hook but she blocks it and counters with a right of her own which catches me below my left breast. I double up and a second right connects with my chin sending me staggering backwards. Before I can recover a left hook spins me round against the ropes.
I’m hanging on the ropes but there are no standing counts in this contest. I look down on a row of naked housewives for blood. It’s surreal. I don’t take in the faces of two or three of them will come to haunt me in later years.
Mitzi places her left hand on my right shoulder and turns me toward her. Before I can raise my guard, a right-cross smashes into my jaw and I stagger back into a neutral corner.
A right upper cut knocks me back against the turnbuckle and I slump down. Still on my feet but unable to defend myself I take several knees to the groin and a right upper cut before sinking to my knees. As the count reaches 17 I stagger to my feet again. My arms are too heavy to lift and my eyes are almost closed.
She stands in front of me and I never see the right hook that puts me down for the last time. I spin round and go down on my back out cold. The count reaches 11 before I stir. I roll to my right and slowly try to get up.
I'm on my knees again, head on the mat and arse in the air. I try to push myself up on my hands but my strength and balance are gone and as I raise my head I keel over again and end up on my back, arms spread wide. As I stare at the ceiling, unable to focus through swollen eyes, I hear the count reach 20.
The bell rings four times to signal the end of the match. I know I've lost but a sense of relief overwhelms me, the ordeal is over. As I lay there struggling to collect my senses, I feel a warm sensation between my legs. I've wet myself.
At that moment my vanquisher staggers into view, a bloody, bruised mess but still on her feet. She looks at me and mumbles through her swollen lips:
"You dirty cow, you've peed yourself."
Then she completes my humiliation by standing over me. At first, I think she's going to put a foot on my chest in victory but no, she stands either side of my boobs and relieves herself on my tits before stepping over my outstretched arms and pissing in my face. I have no strength to retaliate and simply burst into tears as she staggers drunkenly away to her corner. After that I pass out again.
