“Honey, you are not going to believe what I found out at work today,” my wife started as she took off her shoes.
“What?”
“C’mon, guess,” she grinned, dropping her keys into the key bowl.
“Uhh… you got a promotion.”
“No.” She put her purse down, clearly enjoying my inability to come close to guessing.
“I really don’t know.”
“You know Shirley?”
I did know Shirley - Shirley Hamburg, a work friend of my wife. Imagine the plainest, mousiest librarian type you can think of, and she was plainer and mousier than that.
“What about her?” I asked.
“Well,” Laura clearly was relishing this, “I found out she has a side hustle. She’s a porn author!”
“What?” I sputtered. “Shirley? From work?”
“I know!” Laura laughed.
I just couldn’t believe this. Shirley was straight out of central casting for an uptight nerd, always dressed in poofy sweaters and long skirts, plain face hiding behind huge, thick-lensed glasses that rendered her squinty brown eyes comically large, and long, plain and simply cut brown hair.
I thought back to try and remember anything that clued me in that she might actually be a freak between the sheets. Frankly, I couldn’t imagine her even having sex, let alone writing smut. I’d sometimes come to Laura’s office to have lunch at the cafeteria with her, and that was where I’d see Shirley, always eating the same thing (tomato, cucumber, carrot, romaine, red onion, bell pepper, cheddar, basil mayo in a plain wrap with french fries), fussily eating the fries with a fork after squeezing exactly three ketchup packets out over them, nose buried in a Kindle.
“And I got
one of her books,” Laura went on. “Some kind of sex wrestling thing. Did you know she has a
Patreon? People are paying her to read her smut! Shirley!”
I was bursting with curiosity, but Laura held off until bedtime - we’d get ready to go to sleep by reading for an hour side by side before turning the light off. As we sat up that night, Laura in her nightie, I kept wanting to glance over and ask how it was, doing my best to be patient.
I thought a porno book would be short, but it turned out this one was longer than either one of us expected; Laura only made it through a chapter a night, and she’d give me an update in the morning over coffee.
“It’s kinda weird,” she told me after chapter one. “It’s first-person and the POV is a horny 18 year old boy. I don’t know how Shirley got the mind of a sexed-up male teenager, but she’s writing about him jerking off after a wrestling match.”
“Are you going to keep reading it?”
“Yeah - it’s actually pretty good. And even if it sucked, she’s all excited for me to read it. Keeps coming by my desk,” here her voice raised into a high register in imitation of Shirley’s reedy speech, “‘Did you read it yet? Did you like it?’”
She did like it - at least chapters two and three. The night she was reading chapter four, she wasn’t five minutes into it before I heard her angrily muttering.
“What the actual fuck? Honey, listen to this. ‘She was about 5'6", slightly built with a long elegant neck and big eyes. Her brown hair was cut in a long reverse bob, reaching down to her chin in front and shorter in the back’.”
“That’s you!” I blurted. Shirley had changed my wife’s name but otherwise copied her appearance down to the last detail. “Are you a good guy, or-?”
“No!” Laura barked. “I’m a fucking villain!”
“Well, maybe you’ll turn good!”
“Turn good,” Laura muttered, turning back to the Kindle. “Better fucking turn good.”
She did not turn good, or at least not by the end of Chapter 4, where Shirley’s POV character got humiliated in a mixed sex wrestling match with the character she’d made look just like Laura. Saying my wife was angry doesn’t quite get across how pissed off she was - appearing in the book I think she was fine with, but being cast as what turned out to be the main villain really set her off.
“Aren’t I nice?” she ranted the next morning at breakfast, so upset she didn’t even drink her coffee. “I wouldn’t do any of the things this horrible person does in the book! She’s torturing the hero!”
“You’re very nice,” I tried to soothe her.
“Well, would you tell Shirley that? You should have seen the stuff she had me doing!”
“I think-”
“You know what?” she barked. “I’m going to show her how much of a villain I can be!”
I spent the rest of breakfast trying to talk her out of challenging Shirley to a real fight, with no luck. I pointed out that at 41, my wife was 8 years older than her possible opponent; I pointed out that for all we knew, Shirley knew all this fighting stuff from real-life experience; I pointed out that thinking about it in the abstract a real-life catfight might sound fun, but when it came time to actually fight, she might have second thoughts. Laura wouldn’t budge - my wife is a proud, stubborn woman, and the next thing I knew she’d called Shirley up, challenged her to a fight at our house, and had her offer accepted.
There wasn’t anything for me to do in the few days before the fight except prepare the living room, moving all the furniture out except a chair for me to sit in and laying down the thickest rug we had to break any falls. The fight was set for Friday night, and at 9 on the dot Shirley was at the front door.
Both women had agreed to pack a “fun bag” with something to use on the loser - Laura’s had shaving cream and a razor, to “teach that bitch a lesson” by shaving her bald. I didn’t want to know what was in Shirley’s and hoped I wouldn’t find out.
They’d also agreed to fight just in their panties, stripping down in silence in the living room, going toe to toe. Shirley was 5’4”, in average shape, 33 years old, her plain brown hair long and loose. Despite being the younger woman by a considerable amount, the spinster librarian energy she normally emitted made her seem older than my middle-aged but vital wife. For the fight Shirley was wearing white panties, decorated with sunflowers, not cut terribly flatteringly.
Laura was 5’6”, a youthful 41, built slim. I had to admit Shirley had caught her essence describing her standout features, her long elegant neck and large, dark brown eyes. Her hair was also brown, a few shades darker than her opponent’s, in the same long reverse bob Shirley had described in the book, reaching to her chin in front, halfway up her head in the back. For this fight she was wearing her sexiest panties, a black lace set she broke out for our anniversary and my birthday, more silk frill than anything else. I just hoped they weren’t going to get ruined in whatever fight was about to take place in front of me.
My wife had, in all our time together, been in exactly two fights I’d seen. Both of them were what I’d think of as a typical zero-training catfight - the first hadn’t gotten any further than some hair pulling and face slapping before the fighters were pulled apart, while in the second they ended up rolling around on the floor yanking each other’s hair and swearing before the fight was broken up.
Shirley was of course an unknown quantity. I hoped all of her books were bullshit, but I was worried she really did know how to fight and was about to mop the floor with my untrained wife. At least to start, though, she wasn’t unleashing any crazy moves - as with Laura’s two other fights, the women squared up and began slapping the shit out of each other.
Shirley took the first hit, her head snapping around as Laura’s palm smacked into her cheek. Shirley gave the slap right back, then Laura went again. The two women seemed content to just stand toe-to-toe blasting each other, even as their cheeks began turning an angry red.
“Bitch,” Laura snarled, turning Shirley half around with the biggest slap yet. This time before Shirley could get her own return hit in, Laura grabbed her hair with both hands, pulling hard left and then right.
Maybe I’d been worried for nothing - Laura was firmly in control, yanking Shirley around by the hair, the shorter woman too rattled to hit back. The best she was able to do was grab Laura’s hair herself, but there was no power in her grip; she didn’t pull or yank, just held on.
“Thought you were going to be tough!” Laura laughed in Shirley’s face. “You’re a fucking wimp after all that! Come on, use a move from your book, loser!”
She got her wish as Shirley buried her fist in my wife’s stomach. I saw Laura’s eyes go wide from the impact, her mouth hanging open, hands frozen. Shirley got her with a second hit to the same spot and Laura folded up around her opponent’s fist, sinking to her knees when Shirley pulled her hand back.
Shirley calmly stepped back, measured Laura up, and unleashed a punt kick, her rising foot smashing into Laura’s chin. My wife’s head snapped back and she went sailing backwards, landing with her limbs spread wide on the carpet.
Where Laura had taunted and teased during the fight, Shirley attacked with eerie, silent calm - no threats, no calling Laura a loser, just moving into position and dropping an elbow into her belly. Laura looked like she was in real trouble, sitting up at the impact for a second, eyes bugging out of her skull, before falling back to the floor, covering her stomach and moaning.
Shirley calmly rolled Laura over onto her chest, then lay down on top of her, snaking her right arm around my wife’s neck. I could hear Laura gag as Shirley began working the choke, her hands hammering the floor.
“Stay cool, honey!” I yelled. It seemed to help - I could see Laura resting her palms on the carpet, then she began getting up. Incredibly, Shirley didn’t release the choke, instead linking her legs around my wife’s midsection, hanging off her as Laura managed to get to her feet.
Laura ran backwards, smashing Shirley between her body and the wall. The chokehold broke as Shirley fell off. Neither woman could press the attack, hurt too badly, my wife rubbing her sore neck, Shirley slowly sitting up and shaking her head.
The combatants faced off again. Shirley’s cheeks were red from the match-opening slapping, but she otherwise looked completely calm and collected. Laura on the other hand was a mess, her cheeks flushed the same red as Shirley’s in addition to her skin being coated with sweat, her hair sticking up and crazed, her chest heaving as she panted loudly.
“I am going to fuck you up,” she snarled low in her throat. Shirley’s calm really seemed to be pissing my wife off and she attacked, a wild tornado of undisciplined slaps and punches. Shirley simply stepped back, waited for her spot and then shot forward, leading with her right hand, which landed flush on Laura’s belly button.
For the second time Laura had the wind knocked out of her sails by a gut punch, her eyes bugging out again with a big, wet gasp. Shirley kicked my wife’s legs out from under her with a low sweep kick, and once again Laura was flat on her back on the floor.
Shirley smoothly rolled Laura over onto her chest again, but instead of the choke she sat down, pulling Laura over her lap. Shirley looped one of her own legs over the back of her victim’s thighs, then started spanking her ass, hard, each smack of her palm on my wife’s butt echoing off the walls.
Shirley was using her left hand to spank my humiliated wife, her right trapping Laura’s own right wrist and arm in a cruel hammerlock. When Laura tried to escape, Shirley clinched it up, leaving my wife screaming into the carpet. She relaxed the hold when Laura lay still, and my wife was forced to take the spanking, her body jolting as she yelped with each hit on her reddening asscheeks.
Even in the midst of humiliating my wife, Shirley stayed silent - no taunts, no words driving home her dominance. Laura, on the other hand, was quite vocal, initially screaming at Shirley to stop right now, to let her up, moving onto threats, how she was going to get out of this and fuck Shirley up, she was going to spank Shirley twice as hard as she was getting spanked herself. She tried to escape again, but Shirley’s leg over the backs of her thighs kept her from doing anything more than humping the carpet.
Finally, when it was clear she was well and truly stuck under her opponent’s control, Laura just lay there and took it, gasping and moaning as Shirley completed her act of domination. By the time Shirley released the hammerlock and moved her thigh, the most resistance my wife could manage was a low muttered “Bitch” as she reached back to rub her now beet-red, swollen ass.
Laura should have been more focused on what Shirley was going to do. First, my wife had her underwear pulled off, then Shirley rolled her over onto her back. Shirley got down on the floor herself, taking hold of her victim’s legs, folding her up, hooking her (Laura’s) left leg with her (Shirley’s) arms, then her (Laura’s) right leg with her (Shirley’s) thighs, the victim’s legs pulled up and apart, leaving her totally helpless on the floor.
I recognized this move from Laura telling me about it in the book: the climax of one chapter had been Tonya, the character based on Laura, humiliating Chris, the POV character, with a move called a spladle. It was pure dominant embarrassment - the hold didn’t hurt physically, but the victim endured a total loss of control, their body on willing or unwilling display, with as far as I understood no way out and no way to cover up.
And here it was. I could see Laura crying, not in pain, but helpless humiliation as she faced the fact that she was completely under her enemy’s control.
“Don’t look,” she rasped at me. I had of course seen every inch of her body countless times, but something about it being on display against her will made this into a very intimate act of humiliation. I realized that regardless of how well Shirley knew how to throw slaps, punches and kicks, she was a master of psychological warfare - she had forced Laura into a totally submissive role, helplessly sobbing in her opponent’s grip.
“Just finish her,” I begged Shirley. “Look at her, she’s had enough.”
“Is that true?” Shirley asked Laura. “Do you surrender?”
“Fuck you,” Laura sniffed, her voice low and wavering.
“She has to give up,” Shirley told me.
But she did release the spladle, clearly deciding the humiliation, overwhelming as it might be, wasn’t going to do it. Laura was a proud woman, and I guessed Shirley was really going to have to hurt her to make her surrender now with the stakes so high. Shirley stood up as Laura slowly got to her knees. Shirley grabbed Laura’s hair, pulling her leg back for I think a knee to the face.
“I have not yet begun to fight, bitch!” Laura howled, bringing her opponent up short with an uppercut between the legs. For once her lack of training didn’t hurt her here as her fist smashed into Shirley’s pussy.
Shirley screamed, a high, reedy yell of agony, stumbling back with her hands over her crotch. Laura charged from her knees, taking Shirley down to the floor with a sloppy tackle. I could hear the low thunk of the back of Shirley’s skull smashing into the ground through the carpet, and I wasn’t surprised to see she was stunned, rolling over onto her right side, her eyes glazed as Laura hopped back to her feet.
“Fucking asshole!” my furious wife screamed, slamming kicks into Shirley’s tits and belly. “Fuck you! Piece of shit!”
One particularly deep belly kick rolled Shirley over onto her back again. Laura lifted her right foot high and brought it down with a snarl on Shirley’s right breast, digging her heel in cruelly, grinding Shirley’s boob against her ribs as she howled in agony.
In response Shirley covered her breasts with her arms, but this just prompted Laura to go lower, landing another cruel stomp into her opponent’s belly. She lifted her foot for another, and Shirley dropped her arms to instead cover her stomach, leaving her tits uncovered for another stomp there.
I could see Shirley’s left breast get crushed between the floor and my wife’s heel. She screamed again, a high howl of pain, now trying to cover her boobs with one arm and belly with the other. I almost felt bad for her as Laura went around to her feet and grabbed her ankles, splitting her legs.
Shirley saw this too late, her hands shooting down to try and cover her crotch even as Laura slammed her foot into her pussy. Shirley really screamed now, a wavering wail that bounced off the walls as Laura cruelly dug her heel left and right, punishing Shirley’s most sensitive spot.
“Fucking bitch,” Laura finally panted, throwing Shirley’s legs down. She reached down and yanked Shirley’s panties off, sitting down on the beaten woman’s chest and shoving her own underwear into her mouth, laughing as Shirley gagged and drooled around them.
“Look at you now,” Laura taunted her, messing up Shirley’s hair. “Nod if you want to give up. If you don’t,” she reached back, resting her hand on Shirley’s pussy, “well, you weren’t using this anyway, were you, loser?”
“Mgag,” Shirley moaned through her bottoms.
“What?” Laura laughed. “Speak up, loser!”
“Mgarf.”
“What? I can’t hear you, idiot!”
“Mrrrggg!”
Laura had enough of this, grabbing the underwear in Shirley’s mouth and yanking it out, then screaming “What?” in her face. Shirley’s answer was to brace her hands on my wife’s hips and throw her off.
The women got up, Laura growling low in her throat as they faced off, Shirley still somehow maintaining her calm. Laura attacked first, making the obvious move, reaching for Shirley’s tits, already tenderized off the stomps.
I guess this was a bit too obvious as Shirley slapped Laura’s right arm out of the way, coming in weaving to the side of her left. She grabbed Laura’s shoulders, pulling my wife forward and down to meet her rising knee, which sank deep into her victim’s belly.
I could tell just from the look on my wife’s face she’d been gotten good, her mouth hanging open in shock. She let out a huge wheeze, covering her stomach where she’d been hit, leaving herself totally open as Shirley came in, braced her left leg behind Laura’s right, and pushed her down to the floor.
My wife took another elbow drop to her belly. Early in the match she’d sat up with the impact, but now she just lay there gasping, hands crossed over her stomach. She didn’t stir as Shirley went above her head, laying down on the floor herself, resting the back of Laura’s head against her crotch.
Shirley crossed her legs in a figure four shape, the left one straight, the right bent at the knee, the back of her lower leg pressing against her victim’s vulnerable neck. She bore down, and I could see in Laura’s face she was trying and failing to take a breath, her eyes bugging out as her mouth hung open in a silent pant, her hands flying to Shirley’s leg and frantically pulling.
No use. Laura was trapped with no way out I could see - nor could she, either, based on her frantic reaction. It would have been easy for Shirley to just choke my wife unconscious with her legs, but that wasn’t what she was after.
Instead, she tortured her victim, flexing until Laura’s face turned bright red and she helplessly flailed, pounding the carpet with her fists, kicking her legs wildly, then eased up right before she passed out, letting Laura take enough breaths to recover before bearing down again.
“Give up,” Shirley told her. Laura tried to shake her head no, barely able to turn her face left and right a little bit. She opened her mouth but all that came out was a tired wheeze. Shirley eased up a little, letting Laura take enough of a breath to tell her to fuck off, then sinched back up.
I didn’t see how Laura could come back from this, but my wife wouldn’t give up. She hadn’t surrendered to the humiliation of the spladle, and now she wouldn’t surrender to the airless hell of Shirley’s figure-four choke. She’s a proud woman, and by this point even though she looked completely broken, I knew pleading with her to give up would just drive her into further useless resistance.
Shirley realized Laura wasn’t going to tap and poured the pressure on, the muscles standing out in her legs. Laura managed one last burst of resistance, bucking against the floor, limbs flailing wildly, before she went under, her body going completely limp, eyes closed, a peaceful look on her face as her tongue flopped wetly out of her mouth.
Not taking any chances, Shirley released the hold slowly, no doubt ready to reapply the squeeze if Laura was faking. She wasn’t, totally out cold, laying defeated on her own living room carpet as Shirley stood up and looked down at her, head tilted.
“You won,” I called out.
Shirley shook her head: “She has to give up.”
“But she’s out cold-”
Shirley walked over to her Fun Bag, unzipping it and pulling out a black strapon dildo complete with harness. She slid into it with practiced ease, cinching up the black leather straps, giving her thick plastic cock a few strokes to make sure it was securely attached. On closer inspection, it was shaped a little oddly, curved gently upwards, the tip a thick oval.
Shirley went back over to Laura, sitting down on her hips.
“Laura,” Shirley purred, gently slapping my wife’s cheeks. “Laura, wake up. I’m going to fuck you now.”
“Wha-” Laura came around slowly, eyelids fluttering open. “What?”
“I’m going to fuck you,” Shirley told her again.
“Oh,” Laura mumbled meekly. She didn’t resist - maybe just gathering her strength, or had she given up? But surely she’d submit. Did she want to get fucked?
Whatever it was, Laura didn’t fight back as Shirley gently cupped my wife’s breasts, then lowered her mouth to the left, nimbly teasing Laura’s right nipple with her fingertips. Laura’s only reaction was a low moan as Shirley deployed her erotic attack.
I locked eyes with Laura, not seeing any fight left in them.
“Are you going to take that?” I challenged her.
“Don’t look,” Laura husked back. “Honey, don’t look.”
“Oh, I’m looking! You didn’t want to give up, so you better fight back!”
She reached up to brace her hands on Shirley’s sides, but that was it. Instead of moving Shirley off her, she began squirming, her face and chest flushing with excitement. Shirley’s free hand went between her victim’s legs, and although I couldn’t see exactly what she was doing, it had Laura’s fingers digging into the carpet as she arched her hips up off the ground.
“Come on, fight!” I yelled. “You’re just gonna let her do that?”
Nobody was listening. Laura had fought through humiliation and pain, but Shirley had found a way to break her with pleasure. I shook my head, just taking in the show as Shirley got Laura ready for the main event, turning my wife’s own body against her.
“I’m going to fuck you,” Shirley finally rasped, moving into position laying on top of my wife. Laura spread her legs wide for her conqueror, her body language begging for Shirley to make good on her promise. She reached up and wrapped her arms around Shirley’s body in a final act of willing submission.
Any hope I’d held on to that Laura might have had the shadow of a chance of coming back disappeared as Shirley pushed in, a low, guttering moan slipping out of my wife’s mouth. Despite the extra humiliation I was feeling myself watching Laura obviously love the fucking she was getting, I found myself leaning forward in my seat seeing if there were any tips I could pick up as Shirley’s hips hammered back and forth.
It was hard to tell - it looked to me like Shirley was just fucking her hard, fast, and deep. I ended up staring at her bare, flat butt for the few moments it took before Laura gave it all up. My wife had a massive, submissive orgasm, her dominated pussy yielding to Shirley’s will. I’d never seen her cum so hard, fingers digging into the carpet as she shrieked her climax at the wall, a seemingly never-ending howl of “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuccccccccccccccckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk!”
When Shirley pulled out, Laura was truly finished - of the proud woman who’d started the fight there was no trace, only a beaten, sweaty, humbled and fucked-out mess. I caught a look at her face, slack with exhaustion, eyes red from crying, cheeks swollen from the slaps she’d taken at the start of the fight, what felt like forever ago, before Shirley slid up and started mashing her pussy against Laura’s mouth.
The strapon was set up high enough that it left Shirley’s crotch uncovered, and the cherry was put on top of her victory as she got herself off on Laura, using my fallen wife’s face as her fuck rag. The whole time Laura lay still, the only movement the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she suffered the afternoon’s final humiliation.
Shirley finished almost as loudly as Laura had, reaching up to cup her own breasts, teasing her nipples as she ground her hips down, cumming hard against Laura’s face. Finished, she leaned back with a happy sigh of contentment, sitting up there for a second before slowly climbing off with a shuddering breath.
“Let me know if she wants a rematch,” Shirley told me, calmly unstrapping the harness around her hips and legs. “I’m releasing another book in three months if she wants a free copy.”
I stared at her dumbfounded as she packed up and left, leaving me to help Laura up and into the shower, then to bed. When she woke up a few hours later I wasn’t sure what to expect.
“Fuck,” Laura muttered, rubbing her beaten face, already working on a deep scowl. “I am going to get that bitch!”
