[Damerei]

Hello everyone! This is a commissioned story about an English babysitter whose affair with her client leads to a vicious catfight with his wife. This story features strong racial animosity, so if that kind of thing bothers you, you might want to stear clear of this one! I hope you all enjoy it. Let me know what you think!

The Babysitter


Part I


Laura never would have thought that it would turn out like this. It had all begun when she had replied to an online add looking for a babysitter. This job was just supposed to be a simple summer gig. Something that wouldn’t be too hard, and would put some money in her pocket before she headed off to Uni. She had just finished her A-Levels in June and had been looking forward to starting at University in September. She had been accepted to study Psychology at her first choice, King’s College London.

She had imagined that her days would be filled with the typical babysitting duties: playing with the kids, preparing simple meals, and keeping the house tidy. She imagined lazy afternoons in the garden, sipping lemonade while the her charges played on the grass. She pictured herself reading under the shade of the old oak tree, a stack of her favorite novels by her side. Everything seemed idyllic and straightforward, a perfect little bubble for a summer.

She certainly had not planned on falling for the husband.

Her best friend had even made jokes about men sleeping with the nanny when Laura told her about the job. They had laughed about it, dismissing the stereotype as something that happened in tabloids and cheesy movies, not in real life. Laura certainly never dreamed for a moment that it might actually happen to her. She had always been sensible and focused, determined not to let anything distract her from her plans.


Part II


Laura had first met Caleb and Amisha Wilson when she responded to their online ad looking for a babysitter for their two-and-a-half-year-old daughter, Olivia. It was one of those serendipitous finds online—an opportunity that seemed to align perfectly with her summer plans. They lived in a large detached house about a fifteen-minute walk from where she lived with her parents in the leafy borough of Richmond Upon Thames. It was a charming neighborhood, known for its picturesque streets lined with trees, sprawling parks, and a serene ambiance that felt worlds away from the hustle and bustle of central London.

She had jumped at the opportunity and sent in her application, highlighting her experience with children from volunteering at local community centers and her genuine love for working with kids. She was hopeful, but she tried not to get her hopes too high.

The Wilsons had initially interviewed her over the phone, a conversation that had flowed effortlessly. Amisha had a soothing voice, and Laura could hear the warmth in her words as she described Olivia's curious and playful nature. Caleb chimed in occasionally, adding light-hearted remarks that made Laura laugh and feel at ease. It was clear from the start that they were genuinely interested in finding someone who would be a good match for Olivia, and Laura felt an immediate connection with them.

When they invited her to their home to speak further, Laura was both nervous and excited. The Wilsons' house was even more charming in person than it had seemed online. It stood elegantly on a quiet street, with a garden that burst with color and life. The front door was painted a cheerful shade of blue, and there was a small bench on the porch where a pair of wellies sat, hinting at the family's love for outdoor adventures.

Laura rang the doorbell, and within moments, Amisha greeted her with a bright smile and a welcoming hug. "Laura, it's so lovely to meet you in person," she had said, ushering her inside. The interior of the house was just as inviting as the exterior, with soft lighting, comfortable furniture, and walls adorned with family photos and children's artwork. Laura had felt instantly at ease as she was led into the living room, where Caleb was waiting with Olivia perched on his knee.

Caleb had stood up to greet her, extending a hand and flashing a grin that was both friendly and genuine. "It's great to finally put a face to the voice," he said warmly. Olivia, with her big brown eyes and a halo of curly hair, was shy at first, hiding her face against her father’s shoulder. But it didn’t take long for her curiosity to take over. Within minutes, she was showing Laura her favorite toys and giggling at her silly faces. She had her father’s light skin and brown hair, but she had her mother’s almond shaped eyes.

The conversation flowed easily as they sat around the kitchen table, drinking tea and chatting about everything from Laura’s recent A-Level exams to her plans for university. Amisha and Caleb were easy to talk to, their dynamic as a couple seemed relaxed and loving. They listened intently, asked thoughtful questions, and seemed genuinely interested in her aspirations and thoughts.

It very quickly became apparent that they would be a great fit. The Wilsons were everything Laura had hoped for and more. They were kind, attentive, and seemed genuinely invested in making sure she felt comfortable and valued. Olivia, with her infectious laughter and boundless energy, was a joy to be around. Laura had left that afternoon feeling hopeful and excited, the kind of hopeful excitement that bubbles in your chest and fills you with warmth.

From that point on, she became a part of their little family. Days with Olivia were filled with laughter, games, and adventures around Richmond. They’d explore the local parks, visit the duck pond, and indulge in ice cream treats on sunny afternoons. Laura loved the simplicity of those days, and the way Olivia's imagination would transform ordinary moments into magical adventures.

The Wilsons were so great to work for that, although Laura had only planned to babysit until she started at university, she decided to continue on afterward. She found herself making the short jaunt from the center of the city back to her home neighborhood a few times a week to watch Olivia when they needed her. It was easy to fit the babysitting into her schedule, and Laura relished the chance to escape the academic pressure of university life to spend time in the comfortable familiarity of the Wilsons' home.

It wasn’t just about the money anymore—though that was a nice bonus. Laura genuinely enjoyed her time with Olivia and appreciated the bond she was building with the Wilsons. They treated her with respect and kindness, often going out of their way to accommodate her schedule and make her feel appreciated. They'd invite her to stay for dinner on nights when she had late classes, and Caleb or occasionally Amisha would pack her leftovers to take back to her student flat. On the infrequent days when Amisha wasn’t traveling for work and their schedules coincided, she would ask Laura to tag along to a yoga class. Sometimes, they'd even include her in family outings, which she gladly accepted, feeling more like a family friend than just an employee.

But as the months went by, and the initial excitement of university life settled into a routine, Laura found herself drawn more and more to Caleb. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly when things started to change, but she noticed herself paying more attention to him and, absurdly, feeling a flutter of nerves whenever he was around. Perhaps it was in the way he always seemed genuinely interested in her thoughts and opinions, or the way he made her laugh with his quick wit and easy charm, or the care he took in looking after his daughter.

Laura had tried to dismiss these feelings, attributing them to the closeness that naturally developed from spending so much time together. She had convinced herself it was nothing more than admiration and respect for a man who was not only a dedicated father and husband but also someone who treated her with kindness and respect. He treated her like an adult. Like an equal.

Yet, despite her best efforts to keep things professional, Laura had not been able to ignore the undeniable chemistry that was building between them. It lingered in the spaces between their conversations, in the way their eyes met across the room, and in the moments when they were alone together.

Now, the way she saw it, this wasn’t entirely her fault, or Caleb’s either. If there was blame to be had, then it lay with Amisha.


Part III


Caleb and Amisha Wilson were the kind of couple that turned heads when they walked into a room. They were both successful professionals in their early 30s, exuding an effortless charm and sophistication that endeared them to nearly anyone they met. It was no wonder they had found each other all those years ago at Oxford, where they had instantly been attracted to each other's intelligence, ambition, and good looks.

Caleb was 34 years old, tall, and fit, with a presence that commanded attention. He worked as a Vice President of Analytics at the investment bank Thompson & French in the City of London, navigating the complex world of financial markets with a deft hand and a sharp mind. Despite his demanding job, he had a laid-back demeanor, always ready with a joke or a kind word. His dark hair was always neatly styled, and his eyes had a warmth that made people he just met feel as though they had known him for years.

Amisha, at 32, was already a partner at Clifford & Dawes, a prestigious London law firm. Her career in International Law was impressive by any measure. Her days were filled with meetings, case files, and the constant hum of her phone alerting her to the latest development in her cases. Amisha was brilliant and driven, with a knack for seeing three steps ahead of everyone else. Her work often took her to the European continent, where she negotiated complex deals and represented high-profile clients. She was beautiful, with tawny golden brown skin that glowed with health, almond eyes so brown they were almost black, and striking features that paired with an elegant sense of style.

Together, they seemed like the perfect pair—successful, attractive, and living in a lovely home with their adorable daughter. But Laura, who spent many days in their household, soon learned that their seemingly flawless exterior masked an undercurrent of recent conflict in their marriage. It was subtle at first, little things she noticed as she settled into her role as Olivia’s babysitter.

When Laura had first met Amisha she had greatly admired her strength and determination. She could see how hard Amisha worked to balance her career and family, even as it seemed like an impossible task at times. Amisha’s parents had moved to London from India in the late 1980s, bringing with them a blend of traditions and values that Amisha still held dear. Growing up, Amisha had watched her parents work tirelessly to give her every opportunity, and she was determined to honor that legacy by excelling in her own career.

However, since Olivia’s birth, Amisha had been struggling with an internal conflict that was becoming harder to ignore. She wanted to be present for her daughter and husband, to enjoy the small, precious moments that family life offered. But the demands of her job often pulled her away, leaving her feeling torn and guilty.

Caleb, too, had his share of pressures. His work in finance required him to be constantly on top of his game, but unlike Amisha, he didn’t have to travel much for work and was home more often. He took on the role of the more present parent, ensuring Olivia’s needs were met and that the household ran smoothly, and while Amisha appreciated this, she was still jealous.

It was clear to Laura that, although they usually presented the appearance a happy couple, their relationship was not in a good place, and it had not improved since she had been working for them. Conversations between them were often tense, with underlying frustrations simmering beneath polite exchanges. Amisha would sometimes lash out, her words sharp with the sting of stress and fatigue. Caleb would never fight back, but he would clam up, his usual warmth replaced by a stormy silence.

Laura had found herself caught in the middle of this breakdown. She tried her best to maintain a sense of normalcy for Olivia’s sake, even when her parents weren’t talking. She could see how deeply Caleb and Amisha cared for each other, but it was evident that they were struggling to navigate a rocky patch in their marriage. The pressures of their careers and the challenges of parenthood were taking their toll, creating a rift that seemed to grow wider with each passing day.

As the weeks went on, Laura became a confidante to Caleb in particular. She would find him in the kitchen late at night, nursing a glass of wine, his brow furrowed in thought. He would talk about his concerns, his fears about the growing distance between him and Amisha, and his hopes for their future. Laura listened, offering whatever support she could, all the while feeling her own emotions becoming more entangled.

It was during one of these late-night conversations that Caleb had let his guard down, revealing the depth of his struggles. “I just don’t know how to reach her anymore,” he admitted, his voice heavy with emotion. “We used to be so in sync, and now it feels like we’re living separate lives.”

Laura felt a pang of empathy for him, understanding the pain of watching something precious slip away. She had initially wanted to help, to bridge the gap that had formed between him and Amisha.

Yet, as she spent more time with Caleb, Laura couldn’t help but feel a connection growing between them—a connection that was thrilling and dangerous. She found herself looking forward to their conversations, to the moments when he would confide in her and share his thoughts, even if they weren’t happy. It was intoxicating, this feeling of being needed and understood.

The change in their relationship had been gradual, subtle enough that it seemed almost inevitable when she looked back on it. Caleb was a friendly and amiable man, and Laura felt very drawn to him. Despite their age difference, they shared many interests and came from similar backgrounds.

Caleb was a passionate supporter of Arsenal, a team Laura had also followed since childhood, thanks to her father’s love for the sport. They would spend time talking about recent matches, the ups and downs of their favorite players, and occasionally engage in friendly debates over tactics and strategies. It was easy to forget the world outside when they were caught up in discussions that made Caleb forget his problems and return to his happy self.

Nature was another shared passion. Richmond Upon Thames was a beautiful borough with sprawling parks and scenic river walks that beckoned both of them. On days when the weather was fine, they would take Olivia for walks through Richmond Park, watching her chase butterflies or marvel at the deer that roamed freely. The tranquil beauty of these outings offered a respite from the tension that had begun to permeate the Wilson household. Caleb often spoke about his childhood camping trips and how he wanted Olivia to have a similar appreciation for nature. Laura shared her own stories of family holidays spent hiking and exploring the English countryside, each tale strengthening the bond between them.

The closer they became the more time Caleb seemed to spent at home and Laura came to know him quite well. Amisha on the other hand had seemed to be gone more and more often, her work commitments taking her away on long trips that left the house feeling emptier and quieter than it should have been. As the weeks passed, Laura found herself increasingly comfortable in Caleb's presence, the boundaries she had set for herself blurring at the edges. They had fallen into an easy rhythm, one that felt both natural and dangerously intimate.

At first, Laura had felt guilty about the growing distance she felt from Amisha. She remembered the initial admiration she had had for her, the respect she had held for a woman who seemed to have it all. But as the bond between her and Caleb deepened, Laura's feelings toward Amisha began to shift. The admiration cooled, replaced by an undeniable current of resentment and dislike.

The more time she spent talking to Caleb, the more she p couldn't help but see Amisha as a neglectful wife and mother. She was convinced she didn’t prioritize her family enough. She was also convinced that as she grew more resentful of Caleb’s more active role in the home, she actually sought out the distance that she created.

And as Amisha's absence grew more noticeable, so too did Laura’s attraction to Caleb. She had tried to deny these feelings to herself, reminding herself of the complications and the potential fallout. But emotions have a way of eroding resolve, and she found herself captivated by the warmth of Caleb’s smile, the way he listened so intently to her, making her feel seen and valued and needed in a way she hadn’t expected.

The tipping point came unexpectedly. Laura had always been athletic and she was determined to keep fit now that her days of playing football for her school were over. In the last few months, she had become an avid practitioner of Pilates, enjoying the challenge and discipline it offered. One day, she was stretching in the parlor of the Wilson’s home while watching Olivia following a particularly arduous class. Olivia was happily stacking blocks beside her, but when Laura realized that it was 8:30pm she put the little girl to bed.

She had returned to the parlor to continue her stretching. A few minutes later she heard the front door open.
 
Caleb had entered the room, two steaming cups of take-away coffee in hand. He had come up short when he saw her. He smiled, his gaze appreciative.
“I thought you might still be here,” he smiled raising one of the coffee cups. “You know, you really are dedicated,” he continued, his voice tinged with admiration. “I’ve never been able to keep up with a fitness routine like you do.”

Laura smiled, a slight blush creeping up her cheeks. “It helps clear my mind,” she replied, holding a bent over stretch as she spoke.

“Well all that Pilates must be paying off,” Caleb complimented, his tone light but sincere. “Your legs are looking really fit.”

The compliment was simple, but it lingered in the air between them, charged with an unspoken tension that had been building for weeks. Laura felt her heart skip a beat, her mind racing with the implications of his words. She knew she should laugh it off, shift the conversation, and maintain the boundaries she had set. But something in his eyes held her captive, a pull she couldn’t ignore.

That night, the line they had danced around for so long was finally crossed. Their affair began in a rush, a culmination of weeks of stolen glances, late-night conversations, and the unspoken connection that had grown between them. It was intoxicating, this secret they now shared, adding an undercurrent of excitement to every interaction.


Part IV


They were adept at keeping their affair under wraps, weaving it seamlessly into the fabric of their everyday routines. Caleb, ever the picture of charm and composure, continued to fulfill his role as a devoted husband and father, while Laura maintained her position as the attentive babysitter who doted on Olivia.

For the most part their affair was woven of stolen glances and whispered words, of fleeting touches that sent electric sparks through Laura's body. They found solace in the quiet moments when the house was empty and the world outside seemed to fade away. The times when Olivia was napping or when Amisha was away on one of her frequent business trips to the continent provided the perfect cover for their clandestine meetings.

In those stolen hours, Laura and Caleb reveled in each other's company, shedding the weight of their respective responsibilities and succumbing to the magnetic pull between them. Their encounters were a mix of intensity and tenderness, an escape from the realities of their everyday lives. Laura found herself leaving the student flat she lived in for the Wilson’s house more often. Often choosing to visit Caleb over her own parents who loved so near to him. On some occasions she even found herself skipping lectures to meet Caleb for lunch in the City.

As the affair went on, Laura found her view of Amisha shifting yet again. She was now not just a woman she disapproved of, she was competition. Her formidable presence still loomed large over her own relationship with Caleb. It was a transformation that both unnerved and exhilarated her, creating a feeling of simmering rivalry that she never could have imagined just a few months ago.  She began to scrutinize every aspect of Amisha's life, searching for flaws and shortcomings that would justify her own actions.

She turned of course, to social media. Instagram became a place where Laura could measure herself against the other woman from a distance. She would scroll through Amisha's feed, poring over each carefully curated image with a mix of envy and determination. The pictures showcased a life of polished perfection—Amisha's travels to exotic locales, her stylish ensembles, and her unwavering confidence in front of the camera. Laura consoled herself with the knowledge that this public image was just a front.

She found herself fixating on these images, examining every detail with a critical eye. She would analyze Amisha's body, her face, her clothes, and convince herself that she was the prettier woman. Though she had to admit that Amisha was beautiful and fit, Laura took solace in the belief that her own youth and vitality gave her an edge. It was a competition that played out silently in her mind, a contest where she was both judge and participant, determined to come out on top.

In her quest to best her rival in their one sided competition Laura found herself doing things she never would have anticipated. She couldn't resist the allure of Amisha's closet. She would try on the Indian mother’s clothing, savoring the sensation of silk and cotton against her skin. Amisha's elegant dresses and tailored blouses fit Laura almost perfectly, and the fact that they shared a size made wearing them all the more intoxicating.

Laura was even more surprised to discover that she and Amisha wore the same size bra, even though she had never been able to tell whose breasts were bigger. In a moment of daring, she tried on Amisha’s lingerie and stood before her closet mirror, captivated by the reflection staring back at her. The fact that her rival had worn these garments, that her bare breasts had been pressed against the same fabric that her own now were, made her pulse race with a sense of taboo thrill, along with another primal sensation that she didn’t quite recognize. She marveled at how the lace hugged her curves, how the delicate fabric transformed her into someone more confident, more alluring.


Part V


As the months had slipped by and summer had given way to autumn, a subtle shift occurred in the atmosphere of the Wilson household. It was as though a silent alarm had gone off in Amisha's mind, alerting her that something was slipping away, and prompting her to reclaim her place in the household. The days of frequent business trips and late-night meetings began to dwindle, replaced by evenings spent at home, sharing meals with Caleb and Olivia, and weekends filled with family outings. Amisha seemed determined to reconnect with her family, to bridge the gap that had formed in her absence. Her presence was noticeable, her attempts to re-engage with her family tinged with an urgency that hadn’t been there before.

However, it also seemed as if Amisha had become suddenly suspicious of Laura. Maybe she was jealous of how much time she was spending with her family, or perhaps she simply sensed the disdain that Laura harbored towards her. Either way, Amisha’s demeanor toward Laura shifted, becoming more standoffish and occasionally even catty.

Laura could feel the tension in the air whenever she and Amisha were together, which had become much more frequent. Amisha's sharp gaze would travel over Laura with a critical eye, dissecting every aspect of her appearance with a subtle but palpable scrutiny. It was as if Amisha was silently assessing Laura's worthiness to be in their home, her eyes lingering on Laura's clothes with a faint, dismissive air. Laura recalled instances where Amisha's lips would curl into a slight smirk, her comments just barely veiled behind a thin veneer of politeness. Amisha would make pointed remarks about the latest fashion trends, alluding to the idea that Laura’s wardrobe was lacking compared to her own.

Amisha’s criticism didn’t stop at Laura’s appearance. She would often question Laura's babysitting skills, her words laced with passive-aggressive undertones. Laura would hear Amisha recounting how Olivia had once come home with a grass stain on her dress or how Laura had fed her too many sweets—little jabs that seemed designed to undermine Laura’s confidence in her role. In these moments, Laura had no choice but to smile and nod, feigning an indifference she didn’t feel. She couldn’t afford to arouse any more suspicion or risk losing her job, so she bit her tongue and endured the subtle digs, each one stinging like a slap.

Despite the mounting tension, Laura couldn’t fully shake off the guilt of her actions. The affair with Caleb was a tangled web of passion and deception, and she found herself caught between the thrill of being with him and the guilt that gnawed at her conscience. Laura didn’t want to be the woman who tore a family apart, but she told herself it was Amisha’s fault. If Amisha were an easier wife to live with, if she were a more attentive mother, then perhaps Caleb and Olivia wouldn’t have needed Laura to fill those roles. It was a justification that soothed her guilt, a narrative she clung to whenever any doubt crept in.


Part VI


And then, just a few days ago, everything changed. Laura was sitting on the narrow bed in her student accommodation in Central London, surrounded by the chaos of half-unpacked boxes and textbooks scattered haphazardly around her. The walls were bare except for a few pictures, and the small room was filled with the faint smell of paint and new carpet. She was lost in thought. She was supposed to be revising for her Introduction to Modern Psychology lecture, but she couldn’t get her mind off of Caleb. Just yesterday they had spent the night together, rolling around in the sheets of his marital bed. Amisha had been forced to leave for Brussels on short notice. Again. Not that it mattered to Laura, she was more than happy for her to be gone as often as she wanted. 

She closed her eyes and hugged herself, imagining that Caleb’s arms were around her then. Suddenly her phone rang, piercing the quiet of her room.

The name on the screen made her heart skip a beat—Amisha. It wasn’t unusual for either of the Wilsons to call her; they often did to schedule babysitting sessions or discuss Olivia's needs. But something about the timing felt off, a chill crawling up her spine as she hesitated before answering.

“Hello?” Laura said, trying to sound casual, but her voice wavered slightly.

There was a pause, a moment of silence that stretched longer than it should have, before Amisha’s voice came through, sharp and full of controlled fury. “Laura,” she said, speaking quickly, her voice full of steel. “I know everything. About you… and Caleb.”

Laura’s stomach dropped, the world around her blurring into a haze. Panic surged through her veins, her mind racing as she tried to comprehend the reality of Amisha’s words. “Amisha, I—” she began, but Amisha cut her off, her voice rising with each syllable.

“How dare you?” Amisha shouted, the anger in her voice crackling through the phone like a live wire. “You’ve been lying to me, coming into my home, pretending to care about Olivia while you’re sneaking around with my husband!”

Laura’s heart pounded in her chest. She felt a mix of defensiveness and a surprising, but perhaps unavoidable, sense of shame, a cocktail of emotions that left her dizzy and scrambling for words.

“Amisha, listen—” Laura started, but the words caught in her throat, the adrenaline making it difficult to think clearly.

“No, you listen,” Amisha interrupted, her voice laced with bitterness. “You think you can just waltz into my life and wreck my family? Who do you think you are, you fucking little bitch?”

Laura felt her own anger bubbling to the surface. She clenched her jaw, a surge of defiance rising within her. “Maybe your family deserves better,” Laura shot back, her voice tinged with furious defensiveness. “You’re never there for them. You’re always withdrawn and angry, too busy with your own life to notice what’s happening around you.”

There was a brief, charged silence on the other end of the line, and Laura could almost feel Amisha’s fury radiating through the phone.

“You naive, self-righteous whore,” Amisha snarled, each word laced with venom. “You don’t know anything about my life,” she spat. “You have no idea what it takes to be a mother, a wife, and have a career. You’re just a child playing at being an adult.”

Laura’s pulse quickened, her anger flaring like gasoline thrown on a fire. “I know better than to abandon my family,” she retorted, her voice rising in defiance. “I wouldn’t be gone all the time, and I wouldn’t come home just to mercilessly bitch at my husband. You say you love your family, but you’re not exactly fighting for them, are you? I see them more than you do!”

She could year Amisha panting on the other end of the line, her rage evident in her breath. “If you come near my family again you little slut,” she growled, “you’ll see how hard I fight for them!”

Laura paused for a moment, shocked. “Are you threatening me Amisha?”

“You heard me,” Amisha spoke quietly. “If I see you near Caleb or Olivia ever again I’ll kick your arse and throw you out in the street.”

With that Laura heard the click of the line disconnecting.

She sat, discombobulated by the sudden silence after their argument. How had this happened? She was sitting on the bed in her student accommodation, arguing with a 32-year-old lawyer and mother over her husband. She couldn’t believe that Amisha had threatened her. Laura replayed the phone conversation in her mind, trying to make sense of the bizarre escalation that had led to such a direct and personal confrontation. Amisha's words echoed in her head: “If I see you again, I’ll kick your arse.”

The threat hung in the air, both absurd and strangely exhilarating. Laura found herself torn between disbelief and a defiant resolve. Who did Amisha think she was? She was a terrible wife and an absentee mother, always too busy with her precious career to care for her family. “Screw her,” Laura thought angrily, feeling the heat of righteous indignation coursing through her veins.

Amisha's words had stirred something deep within Laura, a desire to stand her ground, to prove that she wouldn’t be intimidated by anyone—least of all a woman who couldn’t keep her own life together behind her pristine charade. Laura's mind raced with possibilities, each thought feeding the simmering anger that refused to be quelled.

“She’s not better than me,” Laura told herself, her jaw set with determination. “I’ll show her that I’m not backing down.”

Despite her resolve, Laura wavered, unsure if she truly wanted to go through with this. Could she really take Amisha in a fight? The Indian mother was a regular gym goer and she knew that she was a lifelong and passionate devotee of Ashtanga Vinyasa yoga—a style known for its emphasis on strength and flexibility.

Still, Laura thought that she was probably stronger than the older woman. Years of playing football had endowed her with agility, speed, and endurance. She had spent many afternoons on the pitch, perfecting her footwork, outmaneuvering opponents, and honing her competitive edge. Over the past year, her dedication to Pilates had further sculpted her body, enhancing her strength and flexibility. Yet, despite her physical prowess, there was a nagging doubt that lingered at the back of her mind—a voice questioning whether she was truly ready for such a confrontation. 

But surely Amisha was bluffing, there was no way she actually wanted to fight her, right? She was just trying to scare her off. The thought of calling her on it made Laura smile.

Laura snatched up her phone and opened WhatsApp. Her fingers flew over the screen, fueled by a mixture of adrenaline and determination. She typed out a message to Amisha, her heart pounding with each word.

Laura: “If you really want to fight we can, just tell me when and where. I’m not afraid of you.”

Laura hit send before she could second-guess herself, the message flying off into the digital void. She sat back, staring at the screen, waiting for a response. Her heart thudded in her chest, a rapid rhythm of anticipation and uncertainty. She held her breath as she watched the two grey checkmarks next to her employer’s name turn blue.

About two minutes later, her phone lit up again. It was a WhatsApp video call from Amisha. The notification felt like a jolt, a sudden shift from the hypothetical to the imminent. Laura was caught off guard by the idea of seeing the other woman face-to-face, but after about five agonizing seconds, she decided to answer.

The screen flickered to life, revealing Amisha’s face. It was dark, but she was standing outside in her backyard. The garden lights cast a pale glow, illuminating her features and casting shadows across her face. Laura could see that her face was flushed and angry, and she saw that her own face looked much the same in the smaller video of herself in the lower right corner.

When Amisha spoke, she spoke in a furious whisper. Her voice was low and urgent, a hiss that conveyed her desire to keep the call private. She obviously did not want Caleb to hear their conversation.

“You really want to do this? Fine. Caleb and I are supposed to take Olivia out to his parents' house in the country for a week. But I’ll tell him I can’t go—I’ll say I’m working, as usual, right? Come to our house on Monday afternoon if you want to fight.”

Laura panted due to the adrenaline that coursed through her, but she matched Amisha’s volume, hissing back at her. “I’ll be there, you worn-out, uppity bitch. But when I win, then I throw YOU out on your arse! You have to leave Caleb and let him keep custody of Olivia too. You know you don’t have the time to give her the attention she deserves. They would both be much better off with me. Your daughter looks more like me than she does like you anyway.”

“How dare you!” Amisha snapped, her voice raising sharply, before she remembered herself and returned to a whisper. “I was raising my daughter when you were still in training bras, you racist bitch!”

“Yeah, don’t think so grandma,” Laura replied, delighting in the immediate look of indignation on the Asian woman’s face. “It’s ok. We don’t have to fight. I should have known that you were all bark and no bite.”

Amisha bit down on her lower lip in anger before whispering, “You know what, you fucking skank, fine! If you actually show up and beat me, I’ll do just that. But you will NEVER beat me. Your way out of your league little girl, and when I spank you and send you crying on your way back to mummy and daddy, you’ll fuck off and leave us all alone. Forever! Deal?”

“Oh, you’ve got a deal, you cow.”

“Fuck you.”

With that Amisha disconnected the video call.






Part VII


Monday had seemed like an eternity away, yet here it was. The tension had been building for days, a crescendo of anticipation and anxiety that Laura couldn’t shake. She had been up most of the night, tossing and turning, her mind racing with thoughts of the impending confrontation. Despite her determination to put that bitter bitch Amisha in her place, Laura couldn’t ignore the undercurrent of fear that tugged at her resolve and filled her with trepidation.

In the darkness of her room, Laura reached for her phone and spent a couple of hours watching videos of women fighting, trying to glean some insight into techniques and strategies. It was a futile attempt at preparation. Somehow the chaotic brawls on screen did little to ease her anxiety.

When the first light of dawn crept through the curtains, she dragged herself out of bed. She had thought she would be tired, but her body felt awake and her mind felt alert. She stepped into the shower, hoping the water would wash away her doubts.

Laura faced another dilemma as she stood in front of her closet: what to wear for a fight? The question seemed trivial in the grand scheme of things, yet it loomed large in her mind. Her hands rifled through the hangers, fingers brushing against fabrics as she debated her options.

After much deliberation, she settled on something practical. She pulled on a pair of sleek black trainers, their soles cushioned for comfort and agility. Her legs slipped into tight yoga shorts that hugged her form, allowing for freedom of movement. A tank top completed the ensemble, its fabric soft and breathable against her skin.

She made herself eat breakfast, though her stomach churned with nerves. The muesli tasted bland and dry, sticking to the roof of her mouth. She washed it down with a glass of water, the liquid cool and soothing against her throat. And then there was nothing left to do but be on her way.

She crossed the Thames from her student accommodation at Wolfson House and hopped on the District Line at the Mansion House station, riding it all the way to the Richmond station. From there she made the ten minute walk towards Richmond Park that brought her to the Wilson’s house.

The air was crisp and cool, the autumn sun casting long shadows across the pavement as she made her way through the leafy streets. Each step brought her closer to the confrontation, her heart beating a steady rhythm of anticipation and uncertainty. She replayed the argument with Amisha in her mind, the words exchanged like blows in a fight she had never anticipated being a part of.

The Wilsons’ large detached house loomed ahead, a familiar yet foreign sight that now seemed fraught with tension. Caleb’s car wasn’t in the driveway. He must really be away.

Laura had a key she used to get in and out when the Wilsons weren’t there but, for whatever reason, using it now didn’t seem right.She hesitated for a moment before ringing the doorbell, and listened as the chime rang throughout the house. Part of her still expected Amisha not to be there, for this whole confrontation to be a bluff, or if she was there she would just scream at her and maybe tell her to get lost.

But half a minute later, the door swung open, revealing Amisha standing there with an air of readiness that took Laura by surprise. Amisha was dressed for the occasion, her athletic clothing emphasizing her toned physique. She wore a pair of fitted black leggings that accentuated her long legs and a bright coral sports bra that highlighted her sculpted arms and shoulders. Over this, she had thrown on a lightweight white tank top. Her feet, in contrast to Laura’s, were bare.

“So, you really did show up?” Amisha said.

Her voice was a mix of disbelief and disdain, her expression a carefully controlled mask that couldn’t quite hide her surprise and perhaps a flicker of doubt. She seemed almost impressed that Laura had actually come, though the undercurrent of animosity was still palpable.

Laura squared her shoulders, meeting Amisha’s gaze with a steadiness she didn’t entirely feel. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she refused to show any sign of weakness. Her mouth felt dry.

“That’s right, I did. Now where are we going to do this?”

For a moment the challenge hung in the air between them. Amisha stepped aside, gesturing for Laura to enter. Laura stepped over the threshold, her mind a blur as she contemplated the fight ahead.

The tension was palpable, an electric charge that filled the space between them as they moved through the house. Laura’s eyes flickered over the familiar surroundings, noting the changes and the absence of Caleb’s presence. Amisha led her into the spacious living room, its furniture had been pushed back to create an open area that served as an impromptu arena. The afternoon light streamed through the large windows, casting a warm glow over the carpeted floor.

Amisha turned to face her, eyes narrowing as she sized up her opponent. The air was thick with anticipation, the silence broken only by the soft hum of the city beyond the windows.

Glancing down again at the Indian woman’s bare feet, Laura sat on the edge of the out-of-the-way sofa and quickly stripped off her socks and shoes, placing them in a neat pile beside the couch. The cool carpet met her feet, grounding her in the moment and offering a surprising sense of stability.

Amisha watched her with a raised eyebrow and questioning look, but she didn’t say a word. Laura shrugged awkwardly in reply, somewhat uncomfortable at the older woman’s scrutiny. She didn’t know why she did it. Maybe Amisha knew something she didn’t, and going barefoot offered better traction or maneuverability; maybe it was simply an act of strange solidarity in their bizarre confrontation. Either way, Laura didn’t want Amisha to have any advantage over her, even in something as seemingly insignificant as footwear.

Laura stood up, coming to stand a few feet away from Amisha. Their eyes locked, a silent battle of wills already unfolding before the first physical blow had been struck. Neither said a word, they each seemed to be sizing the other up. Neither of them seemed to know what their next move should be. 

The silence was oppressive, broken only by the sound of their breathing and the faint hum of traffic from the street outside. But the calm didn’t last long. Soon enough, the words began to flow, cutting through the air like knives.

"You sure you want to do this?” Amisha asked, “You might bruise that pretty face of yours. Not that it would be much of a loss."

Laura forced herself to chuckle, a dry sound that belied her tension. "I’d be more worried about your face if I were you. Can’t hide behind makeup forever, you know. Or maybe you can—it seems like avoiding things is all you’re good at."

“You’ve got a lot of nerve, little girl,” Amisha snapped, “Acting like you know what it takes to keep a family together. You’re just a kid playing house with someone else’s husband."

Laura felt a flare of anger, her cheeks flushing hot. "And you’re doing such a bang-up job, right? Always working, never home, lashing out at Caleb every chance you get. Some wife and mother you turned out to be."

Amisha’s eyes flashed with fury, the muscles in her jaw tensing as she took a step closer. 

"You think you’re so clever, don’t you? Just because you can parade around in a pair of yoga shorts, thinking you’re all that. But let’s be real, you’re just a cheap knock-off trying to replace the real thing."

“And you think you’re the real thing?” Laura said with a derisive laugh, “Please. You’re nothing but a cold, selfish bitch who can’t even keep her own family together. No wonder Caleb’s looking for something better."

The words hung in the air, sharp and unforgiving, echoing off the walls of the room like a tangible force.

"You’re delusional if you think Caleb would ever choose you over me. He might enjoy a fling, but a real man needs a real woman, not some naïve little girl. He just uses you when I’m not around.”

“We’ll see about that,” Laura snapped, “Maybe after I’m through with you, you’ll finally realize that you’ve been living on borrowed time. Maybe it’s time for you to step aside and let someone who actually cares take over."

Amisha’s laughter was bitter, a harsh sound that echoed through the room. “You’re in way over your head, sweetheart. But by all means, let’s see what you’re made of. Maybe you’ll learn a thing or two about what it means to be a real woman. You think you’ve got something special? News flash: you’re not half as attractive as you think you are. I’ve seen you prancing around, trying to flaunt what little you’ve got in front of my husband. It’s pathetic."

Laura’s anger surged. "At least I don’t need to hide behind expensive clothes and a fancy job title to prove my worth. You’re so insecure you can’t even stand the sight of another woman in your house. Taking care of YOUR kid. Maybe that’s why you spend all your time at work—hiding from the reality of your failed life."

“Hiding!?” Amisha yelped, “Oh, you little bitch. You. Are. Fucking. My. Husband! You’ve been hiding for months! You, you… How’s this for hiding?”

With those words, Amisha grabbed onto the hem of her tank top, pulling it over her head in one fluid motion. She tossed it aside to lay on the floor beside the door. Laura’s eyes felt like they were about to pop out of her head as she stared at Amisha’s bare breasts laying against her chest. They were large, maybe a tiny bit larger than her own, but a little less perky. Her nipples were dark brown, almost mahogany, and they were very erect, pointing at Laura in an unspoken challenge. 

Laura tore her eyes away and looked back up at Amisha’s face. Still shocked into silence. 

Amisha’s dark eyes were aggressive, challenging, as if daring Laura to make her next move. She had a smug expression on her face as she internally relished in Laura’s discomfort. 

“What’s the matter, Laura, never seen a real woman’s boobs before?”

Laura gulped, struggling to refocus. If this stunt had been meant to rattle her, she had to admit it had worked.

“Oh, it’s not that.” She said, trying to sound as casual as possible, “I was just surprised at how hard your nipples are. Am I turning you on, you lesbo?

Amisha’s face immediately turned red. “You’re one to talk girl,” she snapped, “your’s are just about putting holes in that cheap shirt!”

Now it was Laura’s turn to flush in embarrassment. She was right. The words hung in the air. Laura’s shock quickly morphed into anger. She couldn’t let Amisha get the upper hand, not now. With a determined flicker in her eyes, she decided to one-up Amisha’s move.

“Ok, I see how it is. Fine, if that’s how you want to do this.”

Laura reached for her tank top, pulling it off and tossing it on top of her trainers, letting her own boobs hang out. She postured a bit, trying to show off her athletic torso and shapely breasts. Her own rock hard nipples pointed back at Amisha, light pink in contrast to the Indian woman’s dark brown.  

Amisha’s composure faltered for a moment, surprise flickering across her face as she took in Laura’s tits. It was then her turn to gape in shock as Laura hooked her thumbs under the waistband of her shorts and pulled off them and her panties in a single motion, throwing them aside and standing there, stark naked. 

The Asian woman ogled Laura’s clean shaven genitals for a moment before her eyes rose to inspect her breasts once again. 

“Come on Amisha, it's no big deal,” Laura mocked, happy to have the older woman on the back foot, “It’s not like I haven’t been naked in your house before.”

The insinuation was clear, and the reminder of Laura’s audacity was like a slap in the face for Amisha. Her jaw tightened, the shock melting away.

“You really think you’re something, don’t you little girl?” 

“You’re damn right I do, old lady.” Laura replied with a tilt of her chin, trying to project a confidence she didn’t feel. “And by the way, so does your husband.”

Amisha’s lips compressed into a furious line and her eyes closed in anger. She exhaled heavily out of her nose. Without another word she matched Laura’s move, peeling off her leggings and her underwear and setting them on the small table in the corner of the room before stepping back into the centre naked. 

Despite their obvious disparity in age and ethnicity, the two women looked much alike. Amisha was about an inch shorter than Laura’s own 5’5, but the older woman was just a bit thicker. Laura judged that the Indian mother might be 5lbs heavier. They both looked to be in excellent shape. Their hair was about the same length, hanging down a few inches past their shoulders. Laura’s was chestnut brown and wavy while Amisha’s was straighter, with just a slight curl, and black as a starless night. They were both smooth and clean shaven except for the thatch of dark hair between Amisha’s legs.

Despite the animosity that had built up between them, Laura couldn’t help but admire the older woman’s physique. Amisha looked fit and strong, her dusky skin glowing with a healthy sheen, muscles toned from years of yoga and an active lifestyle.

“Nice bush,” Laura snorted derisively, “you’ve really let yourself go now that you and Caleb have stopped fucking, huh.”

“You jealous, little girl?” Amisha replied. “And what makes you think we ever stopped fucking?”

Standing there naked, Laura and Amisha faced each other in the middle of the living room. Despite the verbal sparring and physical displays that had led to this moment, a heavy silence now blanketed the room, punctuated only by their nervous breathing.

Looking at Amisha, Laura noticed the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. Her bravado seemed to have faded, replaced by apprehension and uncertainty. It struck Laura that while she had been thinking of Amisha as an older and more experienced woman, she might never have been in a fight either. The thought was oddly comforting. Amisha’s heavy breathing, the slight tremble in her hands, and the unsure look in her eyes didn’t exactly suggest an experienced catfighter.

Suddenly the Indian woman’s voice cut through the silence, startling her.

“You look nervous,” Amisha taunted, “Scared that you’re finally going to get what’s coming to you?”

Laura forced a laugh, trying to keep her voice steady. “I could ask you the same thing. I can see you sweating from here. Haven’t you ever been in a fight before?”

Amisha scoffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder with a nervous energy. “Unlike you, I have some class,” she retorted sharply. “I don’t go around getting into punch ups with every woman who crosses my path.”

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong Amisha. Believe it or not, I’ve never been in a fight either,” Laura shot back, trying to keep her tone light despite the pounding of her heart. “But there’s a first time for everything, huh.”

Amisha’s eyes narrowed, she started to shift to the side slightly, circling. Laura mirrored her movement.

“You’ve certainly been acting like you wanted one, you dirty little chav.” The Asian woman spat.

“And you’ve been acting like you needed one, you paki bitch,” Laura countered, as the two of them circled. 





Part VIII

Amisha made the first move as she quickly stepped forward and swung a slap at Laura's face. Her hand moved through the air with an awkward, unsure hesitance, fueled more by anger than any strategy. Laura instinctively jerked back, just in time to feel the rush of air as Amisha's palm missed her cheek. 

Laura immediately retaliated with a slap of her own, her hand moving swiftly toward Amisha's face. The strike connected with the Indian woman’s shoulder instead, a glancing blow. Amisha hurled another one quickly, her slap coming with more force but less accuracy, grazing Laura's arm with a sharp sting.

They exchanged a series of exploratory slaps, each testing the other's defenses. The slaps were clumsy, their swings unpracticed and lacking finesse. Amisha again aimed for Laura’s head again, but the slap missed its mark, brushing past the younger girl’s ear as she twisted and leaned back.

Amisha tried a tentative kick aimed at Laura's shin, but her timing was off, the move too slow to make an impact. Laura responded with a kick of her own, her foot catching Amisha’s calf with a dull thud. It was an awkward motion, leaving both women slightly off balance.

Their movements were halting and jerky, like dancers out of sync with their own rhythm. They swung back and forth, cursing at each other as they did so, in a chaotic flurry of hands and feet. Their tits flopped absurdly around their chests as they swung at each other. 

After a minute or so of trading clumsy blows, Amisha swung a wild slap that missed its mark, causing her to turn too far to the side and lose her balance. Laura seized the opportunity, stepping forward with a quick shove to her shoulder. The force was enough to send Amisha stumbling back several steps, off balance, her arms flailing as she struggled to hold her footing.

“Look at you,” Laura panted, taunting, a smirk on her lips. “Can’t even stay on your feet. Weak.”

Amisha’s face flushed with both embarrassment and anger. “I just tripped,” she snapped back, turning back to glare at Laura. “Don’t get cocky just because you got lucky.”

“Lucky?” Laura laughed, “I’m just stronger than you, and you know it.”

Amisha's eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint sparking within them. "We’ll see who's stronger, you English slut," she retorted, her voice steady but tinged with anger.

Amisha came at her with her hands raised out in front of her. Laura raised her own hands without any hesitation, and rushed to meet the Indian woman in the middle of the room. It was as though they had reached some silent understanding as they each spread their fingers wide and clasped their hands together, fingers interlocking. They immediately set their feet and drove into each other, driven by adrenaline and the urge to prove themselves the stronger woman. 

The initial awkwardness and hesitation had vanished, replaced by a fierce determination to overpower the other. Each woman pushed with all her might, their fingers digging into each other's hands as they strained for dominance.

Laura was taken aback by Amisha's strength. She had known the older woman was fit, but she had assumed that her own youth and athleticism would give her the upper hand. However, as they grappled, it became clear that Amisha was every bit her equal. They were an even match, their muscles straining as they stumbled around the room in a fierce test of will and endurance.

Their struggle was intense, each woman grunting and groaning with exertion as they vied to impose their strength on the other. Their feet stumbled around the floor as one would push the other back a step or two, only to quickly loose the ground they gained.

Laura could feel the sweat trickling down her back, her breath coming in short, labored bursts. She tightened her grip on Amisha’s hands, digging her fingers in more deeply, squeezing tighter, and attempting to bend her wrists back. She groaned as the Asian woman matched her strength with surprising tenacity.

The stalemate persisted, neither willing to yield an inch. The room echoed with the sounds of their struggle—the sharp intakes of breath, the muffled thuds of feet against carpet, and the occasional grunt of effort.

Amisha’s feet dug into the carpet as she fought to gain ground, her eyes locked onto Laura’s with a fiery intensity. Laura matched her glare, pushing back with all the strength she could muster. But the balance of power was shifting, and she could feel herself starting to give way.

With a sudden lurch, Laura stumbled slightly, her footing faltering just enough for Amisha to seize the advantage. Baring her teeth in triumph, Amisha surged forward, using the momentum to drive Laura several steps back. 

“Looks like you’re the weak one after all,” Amisha taunted, her voice dripping with satisfaction.

Off-balance and reeling, Laura found her own wrists being bent back, and felt herself being driven down onto one knee. Amisha loomed over her, still pushing down on her hands, face savagely alight as she bore down on her husband’s mistress. The feeling of being dominated ignited a spark of desperation in Laura, she refused to let this be the end.

With a fierce growl Laura ripped her hands down, tearing them from Amisha’s grasp. She planted her foot firmly on the ground, exploding upwards with all her strength, crashing into Amisha.

But the Indian mother was quick to react. She mirrored her movements and braced herself, ducking a bit to meet the English girl head on. They both let out a sharp grunt as their chests slapped together with a meaty thud.  Laura drove her forward two steps as she threw her arms around Amisha’s back and felt the other woman do the same as they began to squeeze each other for all they were worth. 

The closeness of their struggle was disorienting. Laura had never been this intimate with another woman, and the sensation was both unsettling and oddly exhilarating. Their cheeks pressed together as their heads rested on each other’s shoulders, and she could feel the heat radiating from Amisha’s skin. Her breath was warm against Laura's neck. An exotic scent, something floral and spicy, lingered around her hair and shoulders, making her head swim.

A mix of revulsion and arousal stirred within her, confusing and intense. The awareness of Amisha’s body against hers was inescapable. Their tits were waging their own war, smashed firmly together between them. The skin of the Indian woman’s breasts was surprisingly soft, but her nipples were rock hard and were digging into her tits an inch or so below her areolae. She could feel that her own were equally hard as they ground against Amisha’s boobs. Their legs shifted as they stumbled around, and every now and then she would feel the Indian woman’s pubic hair brush against her groin. She could feel the rise and fall of Amisha’s breath, and the rapid beating of her heart echoing her own.

Despite their animosity, and how uncomfortable she was to be shoved up so intimately against another woman, Laura couldn’t deny the strange thrill of it all. 

From the soft sounds escaping Amisha’s lips and the way she wriggled in Laura’s grip, it was clear the older woman was just as uncomfortable. Yet, neither of them backed down. They stood locked together, their bodies swaying with the effort of trying to overpower each other. Their fingers dug into each other’s backs as they squeezed. 

Laura's arms were underneath Amisha’s, giving her a slight advantage in squeezing power. She compressed her arms with all her might, feeling the taut muscles of the older woman’s back straining against her grip. 

The bear hug seemed to last forever, each woman trying to outmuscle the other. Laura poured her strength into the hold, determined to assert her dominance over the woman who had forced her to her knees. She could feel Amisha's body tensing against hers, their breaths mingling as they strained against each other.

Laura shifted her hands to tighten her grip, taking her mind off the pain and focusing on the pressure she was exerting. Amisha was hurting her, but she could tell she was squeezing harder, her arms powered by adrenaline and the slight leverage advantage she had. She could feel Amisha's breath hitch slightly under the pressure, a sign that her tactic was working. The intensity of their struggle was palpable, each woman unwilling to yield as they swayed slightly, locked in their embrace. The living room seemed to close in around them, the outside world fading away as they focused solely on each other.

But Amisha was not about to be overpowered. In a desperate move, she reached up and grabbed a fistful of Laura’s hair, yanking sharply. Pain shot through Laura’s scalp, causing her to wince and loosen her hold momentarily.

Seizing the opportunity, Amisha stomped sharply down on the younger girl’s foot as hard as their tangled position allowed. Once. Twice. And a third time. The sharp pain radiated up Laura’s leg, forcing her to release the bear hug completely.

“Agh! You brown bitch!” Laura spat, staggering back slightly, stepping gingerly. 

As soon as her foot stomp caused Laura’s arms to open, Amisha tried to capitalize on her advantage. She tugged Laura's head down and forward, using the hand buried in Laura’s hair to drag her. 

The English girl reached up blindly with both hands finding a firm grip in Amisha’s black tresses. They slung each other around the parlor by the hair, both bent over at the waist. Curses were yelped and grunted back and forth between them.

Laura reversed her direction driving forward at Amisha, using the hands in her hair as anchors. The older woman mirrored her and their bodies slapped together, before quickly separating by a few centimeters as Amisha yanked Laura’s head backwards, so that she was looking at the ceiling. 

The younger woman squeezed her eyes shut in pain as her scalp burned. She gritted her teeth and tugged backwards on Amisha’s raven locks so that she was looking at the ceiling as well.

They each looked down towards their chins so that they could just see each other's faces, despite the fact that doing so caused their hair to be pulled at even more sharply. They moved slowly, feet bumping as they shuffled back and forth, staying in virtually the same place. Both were breathing heavily.

“How’d it feel…to have some firm…young tits… on your chest… again, Amisha?” Laura hissed in pain, “I know… it must… have been a while…for you.”

“Oh, please…you little slut,” Amisha growled back, “my girls… were pushing yours…back into your chest.” 

“Bitch…your saggy… old tits…were getting… their arse whipped.”

With that, Laura decided to end this stalemate. She let go of her hair with one hand, then the other, placing both on the older woman’s cheeks and jaw, forcing her head even farther. 

The Asian woman groaned louder at the severely uncomfortable angle of her neck. She did however, go with it despite the pain, leaning farther backwards at the waist and causing the pushing hands to slip up and off her face. 

With a quick, fluid motion, taking advantage of the English girl’s sudden forward momentum, Amisha stepped to the side, pulling Laura across her body using the hands still tangled in her chestnut hair, and yanking her head down. She quickly whipped her left arm around the English girl’s neck, trapping her in a tight headlock.

Laura felt a moment of panic as Amisha's grip tightened. She wasn’t quite choking, but the pressure was enough to make breathing difficult, with her airway partially constricted by the firm hold. The room seemed to spin slightly as she struggled to get her bearings, as they stumbled around. Her heart pounded in her ears like a drumbeat.

Amisha’s forearm pressed against the side of Laura’s neck, her grip unyielding as she leaned into the hold, applying enough force to keep the younger girl’s head subdued. The sensation was both suffocating and infuriating, and Laura's breaths came in short, ragged gasps as she fought to remain calm, searching for a way to break free.

With her right hand, Laura reached up and grabbed the hair on the back of Amisha’s head, pulling sharply in an attempt to loosen the headlock. Her fingers twisted into Amisha’s dark locks, tugging with as much strength as she could muster, but the angle was terrible, her position awkward and compromised, and the maneuver had little effect other than eliciting a hiss of pain from Amisha.

"Let go!" Laura growled, her voice strained as she continued to pull at Amisha’s hair, each tug more desperate than the last. But Amisha held firm, refusing to give Laura any respite.

Amisha struggled to keep the white woman in place as the heat of the struggle enveloped them both, beads of sweat forming on their skin as they strained against each other, muscles tense and bodies entwined in the fierce contest. She could feel the younger woman's struggle, the way Laura’s body twisted and squirmed, trying to find an opening, a weakness to exploit.

Laura’s mind raced, thoughts tumbling over one another as she searched for a way out of her predicament. The pressure on her neck was relentless, the discomfort growing with each moment she remained trapped in Amisha’s hold. She had to act quickly, before the lack of oxygen sapped her strength and dulled her ability to fight back.

With a surge of determination, Laura shifted her weight, using her free hand to push against Amisha’s hip, trying to create space between them. Amisha, sensing Laura’s renewed effort, adjusted her stance, her feet planted firmly as she worked to maintain control.

Desperate now to escape the headlock, she let go of Amisha’s hair, ignoring the stinging pain that shot through her scalp, and bent down as much as she could, thrusting her arms down between Amisha’s thighs. Her hand hooked behind Amisha's knee, and Laura threw herself upright with all her strength, jerking Amisha’s leg up into the air.

Amisha let out a curse, her voice sharp with surprise, as she felt herself being lifted an inch or so off the ground. The sudden movement caught her off guard, her body tipping backward as she fought to regain her footing. But it was too late. Before she could release her hold, she crashed onto her back, her grip on Laura breaking with the impact.

Laura landed partly on top of Amisha, her elbow ramming into Amisha’s upper belly. The collision was satisfying, a brief moment of triumph as she heard the harsh, pain-filled expulsion of air from Amisha’s lungs. The older woman’s breath escaped in a wheeze, her face contorting with discomfort.

Amisha lay flat on her back, momentarily stunned by the fall, while Laura found herself propped up on her side, supported by her elbow next to her. Her instincts kicked in, driving her to press her advantage. She wrapped her arms around Amisha’s head, pulling herself up slightly, positioning herself beside and slightly above the prone woman.

She threw her top leg over Amisha, locking her in place. She felt the other woman squirm beneath her, but Laura was resolute, determined not to let her escape. She pulled in with her wrapping arms, crushing Amisha’s head against her chest. Her left breast was pressed tightly against Amisha’s face. She could feel the edge of the Indian woman’s lips against her nipple. 

“You must love this, right ya dyke?” Laura taunted, a thrill rushing through her at her dominant position.

She hissed as Amisha grabbed the hair on the back of her head and pulled it back, forcing Laura to turn slightly and creating a hair of space in between her mouth and the English girl’s boob. 

“I am NOT gay… you stupid… white bitch!” She growled, struggling to keep the breast away from her lips and get the words out. “I’ve never… been with a woman… in my life… which I’m sure… is more… than you… can say…with how… you’re shoving… your tit… in my… face!”

“I have not Amisha!” Laura snapped “you’re the one…” 

Suddenly, Amisha let out a guttural cry of effort as she swung her right leg upward, her years of yoga paying off in this crucial moment. Her foot arced gracefully through the air, her knee bending to catch Laura's face in the crook of her leg. Laura's eyes widened and she yelped out in shock as she felt Amisha's leg clamp around her head, the unexpected maneuver tearing her arms from around the Indian woman’s head. 

The sudden force flung them apart, as Laura was hurled a few feet away. Both women gasped for air, their hearts pounding in their chests as they took a moment to regain their composure and clamber up to their knees. Laura's cheek throbbed from where Amisha's leg had struck, and she brushed her hair out of her face with an angry look. 

Breathing heavily, Laura and Amisha faced off from each other, their eyes locked. They remained on their knees. Sweat dripped down their brows, and their chests heaved with exertion. Their faces were flushed and their hair resembled a pair of bird’ nests, but neither seemed to care. 

“Is that all you got, you bloody English slag?” Amisha gasped

“That’s not fucking half of it, you paki bitch!” Laura roared in reply.

With a shared burst of aggression, they hurled themselves at each other, their bodies colliding with a thud that echoed through the room. They tumbled to the floor in a tangled mess of limbs, rolling across the carpet as they fought with a ferocity that belied their inexperience.

The struggle was chaotic, a whirlwind of punches, kicks, and slaps exchanged with wild abandon. Laura lashed out with her fists, feeling the satisfying contact of her knuckles against Amisha’s side. They gave up all thought of strategy as they rolled, surrendering themselves to the wild, primal instincts that rest dormant in all of us.

Laura felt Amisha’s nails dig into her forearm, the sharp sting adding to the growing list of aches and bruises she had accumulated. She retaliated with a hard slap to the older woman’s cheek, the sound echoing sharply in the confined space. But Amisha was relentless, responding with sharp knees aimed at Laura's thighs, her short nails still digging into reddening skin.

Their pace was frantic, each woman desperate to gain the upper hand. The room was filled with the sounds of their struggle—the dull thud of fists hitting flesh, the slap of skin against skin, and the grunts of exertion and pain as they fought for dominance.

Amisha let out a low growl as she managed to grab a fistful of Laura's hair, yanking her head back with a vicious pull that made Laura gasp. But Laura responded in kind, her own fingers entwining in Amisha’s hair, pulling with equal force as they grappled with each other.

Despite the chaos, neither was able to gain a clear advantage.

As they rolled across the floor, Laura decided to change tactics. She took her hands out of Amisha’s hair and placed them firmly on the Asian woman’s shoulders. With a determined grunt, she planted her right foot out to the side to halt their rolling momentum and pushed herself up, driving her weight down through her hands into Amisha’s shoulders.

The older woman groaned at the sudden pressure, feeling the weight of Laura bearing down on her. Not willing to be pinned helplessly beneath her rival, she acted swiftly. Her legs shot up, wrapping around Laura’s waist in a desperate countermeasure. She locked her ankles behind the English girl’s back, trapping her in a powerful scissor.

Laura dropped back down to her knees, feeling the constriction around her torso tighten mercilessly. Amisha’s thighs squeezed brutally, each pulse of pressure drawing a groan of pain from the younger woman’s lips. 

Laura’s hands pressed against Amisha's thighs, fingers digging into the flesh as she tried to pry them apart. But the grip of the Indian woman’s legs was like concrete, unwavering and relentless. Desperation tinged Laura’s efforts as she resorted to clawing at the older woman’s legs. Her nails dug into her skin, but nothing seemed to weaken the hold.

Laura gritted her teeth, refusing to yield. The pain in her sides was intense, each breath a struggle as Amisha’s legs continued their relentless squeeze. But surrender wasn’t an option. Not here, not now. She had to find a way to turn this around, to escape the crushing grip of the Asian woman’s legs. 

As Amisha’s scissor hold tightened around her waist, Laura felt her desperation mounting. Each breath was a struggle, her sides protesting against the relentless pressure. She raced to come up with some way out, a strategy to break free from the other woman’s crushing hold. 

An idea flickered in her mind, reckless and unorthodox, but she didn’t have the luxury of second-guessing. Without pausing to think it through, she released her hands from their grip on Amisha’s thighs and reached upwards, her fingers latching onto Amisha’s brown tits, holding them firmly like she would a pair of binoculars. She squeezed hard, her short nails digging into the sensitive flesh.

The sudden attack drew a piercing scream from Amisha, a mix of pain and surprise etched across her features. Her eyes widened as she registered what Laura was doing, and for a moment, her leg scissors loosened slightly before tightening once more with renewed vigor. She pushed at Laura’s elbows to no effect.

The act was shocking, even to Laura herself. If someone had told her a week ago that in seven days time, she and Amisha, the 32 year old high powered lawyer, would be rolling around naked on the floor of Amisha’s parlor, and that she would be trapped between her legs and squeezing her tits, she would’ve gotten them sectioned. However, if it made Amisha give up…

“What’s wrong old lady?” She snarled. “Don’t like my hands on your udders?”

“Uggghhhh,” Amisha growled, “you’d better get off of my tits, you fucking little twat!”

The Asian woman’s face twisted with determination, her hands dropping from Laura’s elbows to grab at her wrists. She tugged and pulled, trying to dislodge Laura's fingers from their painful grip. Her legs continued to squeeze the English girl’s sides mercilessly. The struggle was intense, both women gritting their teeth against the pain and effort.

“Let go, you little—” Amisha spat through clenched teeth, her grip on Laura’s wrists tightening as she fought to pry them away.

“Not until you give up, paki!” Laura replied, her voice strained but defiant. Her nails dug in harder, seeking to weaken Amisha’s resolve. “Had enough yet?”

“Not even close, you racist bitch,” Amisha snapped back, her eyes blazing with a fierce determination. 

Amisha released her grip on the white woman’s left wrist, instead balling her hand into a fist. She began to punch and slap at Laura’s face and the side of her head, each strike landing with a sharp smack that echoed in the room.

Laura winced at the blows, instinctively raising her right hand to shield her face from the onslaught as one blow struck her in the mouth. It was the opening Amisha needed. In one swift motion, she released her scissor hold and wrapped both hands around Laura’s left wrist, yanking it away from her chest.

At the same time, with a powerful push of her legs, Amisha kicked the younger woman away, sending her stumbling backward onto the floor. Laura started to get to her feet, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she faced Amisha once more. Her face throbbed where the Indian woman’s punches had landed, and her sides ached from the relentless scissor hold.

Amisha struggled to get to her knees as fast as she could, her body still wobbly from the intense exchange. Her breathing was ragged, as she inspected her sore breasts.

Laura was faster, her youthful energy propelling her to her feet first. The English girl saw her chance and flew at Amisha with renewed aggression, eager to reestablish her dominance while the other woman was still vulnerable. 

“That’s right,” the English girl taunted, “just stay right…AAAIIEEEEGGGGHH!!!!”

The younger woman screamed like a banshee as Amisha surged forward on her knees and seized her pussy with her right hand. She just grabbed, with no thought to form or strategy, squeezing both of Laura’s labia like you’d squeeze a wet, balled up towel.

The English woman froze as if hit with an electric shock, as the sudden pain radiated through her body, causing her to jerk and twitch. It felt like fire was burning through her skin. She had never felt agony like this in her life. Her body writhed instinctively, trying to escape the vicious grip. 

Both hands flew to her crotch. One to Amisha’s wrist, digging her nails into it to try to force it to release. The other hand did battle with the Asian woman’s fingers, trying to prise them away from where they dug into her pussy.

“You wanna fight dirty, you fucking white cxnt!?” Amisha screamed, “Let’s fight dirty then!”

She twisted her hand slightly, pulling down a bit, wrenching another blood curdling scream from the younger woman. Laura swooned and almost fell. She had to catch herself on Amisha’s shoulder, taking her hand off her wrist. White spots began to dance in her eyes. 

As she balanced herself it was like her instincts took over and she threw a kick at the still kneeling woman, catching her in the stomach, her football trained legs packing some power despite the hand on her pussy. She heard Amisha gasp deeply in pain and threw another, then another. Her foot caught her rival repeatedly in the stomach and thighs, until the Indian woman let go and scrambled backwards as fast as she could. Laura sank to her knees and tried to rub the pain out of her pussy.

The two of them laid on the ground for about a minute, neither attempting to get up as they each felt the aches of their bodies and contemplated what they had done and what had been done to them.

Slowly they both got to their feet, the animosity between them was nearly physically palpable as they shot each other the filthiest and most hate filled of looks. If looks could kill there would have been no need for them to fight. Their breath was ragged, chests rising and falling with exertion, and they both looked haggard, the fight having taken its toll on them. Laura touched her face, feeling the sting of a cut on her lip. Her hand came away bloody, the crimson smudge a stark reminder of the intensity of their battle. She noticed that her rival had a small bruise forming underneath her eye and a much larger one just starting to bloom on her thigh.

The stared into each other’s eyes, posturing, nostrils flaring. And the the room was filled with their wordless screams, raw and primal, as they charged at each other with renewed ferocity.

Laura charged forward, ducking low and driving her shoulder into Amisha’s waist. The impact was solid, her head sliding past the older woman’s hips as she wrapped her arms around Amisha’s legs. She continued to pump her legs, pushing into her rival and driving her back and down to the carpet.

Amisha landed in a sitting position and though she was jolted, the air wasn’t knocked out of her. She immediately stared to pepper the English girl’s back with rapid fire punches as they hit the floor, both women exploded into a furious frenzy, limbs flying in a chaotic tangle. Their slaps echoed sharply, punctuated by the dull thud of punches and the sharp sting of knees driving into soft flesh. They clawed at each other’s faces and arms, nails raking across skin and digging in with a ferocity that left small red welts in their wake.

A thin line of blood appeared on Amisha’s arm where Laura scratched at her. They rolled around on the floor, bodies entwined in a desperate bid for dominance, each woman determined to mount her foe and gain the upper hand.

Insults flew between them, harsh and biting, as they fought tooth and nail. Amisha managed to get on top, straddling Laura and pinning her momentarily. But Laura wasn’t about to let her rival maintain the advantage.

With a surge of determination, Laura bucked and hurled the older woman off of her, slipping her legs up around Amisha’s waist, locking her ankles together and clamping on a scissor hold much like the one she had been trapped in earlier. She squeezed with all her strength, feeling the satisfying pressure in her legs as Amisha let out a scream of anguish.

“How do you like it, you Indian cow!” Laura taunted, a smile of grim satisfaction spreading across her face. She poured on the pressure, tightening her grip as Amisha struggled against the hold.

Amisha clawed desperately at Laura’s legs, nails digging into the soft skin with a ferocity born of desperation. Her nails, slightly longer than Laura’s began to draw up small beads of blood within a few seconds. The pain was intense, but Laura refused to relent, knowing she had the upper hand.

In an attempt to get the Asian woman to her claws off of her leg, Laura reared up from her back and slapped her as hard as she could. There was a loud crack that echoes through the room, as the dusky skinned woman’s face was turned by the force of Laura’s hand.

Amisha’s face contorted into a mask of rage. For some reason it was the slap that brought out her fury more than anything so far. The disrespect of this little brat slapping her like that in her own house turned her blood to fire.

She practically snarled as she swung a slap back at the English girl, the flat of her hand cracking across her pale breast. Laura hissed as Amisha slapped her tit again, the skin immediately turning red. The brown skinned woman then balled her fist and began to hammer the side of it into the younger woman’s belly.

Laura growled against the pain, but maintained her scissor hold, unwilling to relinquish the advantage she had fought so hard to gain. She could do nothing but try to deflect the other woman’s punches and try outlast her. Her legs squeezed tighter, cutting off Amisha’s air and crushing into her sides as hard as she could. Her legs began to tremble from the pressure?

“Fuck you, you fucking white cxnt!” Amisha screamed at her as she started to hammer her fist into Laura’s pale right thigh as well.

Laura squirmed, twisting a bit as her leg and belly were pounded by Amisha’s fist. The Indian woman took full advantage of that and drove forward the second she shifted, throwing herself at Laura and landing a fist on her chin.

Laura’s legs, which had been squeezing with relentless pressure, suddenly lost their power, slackening around Amisha’s waist. Though they still hung loosely, the grip was no longer tight enough to hold the fit brown skinned woman in place.

Laura wasn’t unconscious, but the punch had left her momentarily stunned and reeling. She blinked her eyes rapidly, trying to clear the haze, but the damage was done. Her control over the fight had slipped, and now she found herself vulnerable, her hated rival poised to seize the advantage once more.

Sure enough, Amisha easily pried Laura's legs apart and stepped out of them with a look of triumph. With a swift motion, she delivered a firm kick to the meaty part of Laura’s thigh, causing her to gasp in pain.

Then, with a vengeful expression on her face, Amisha grabbed the left side of Laura’s hips with both hands and used her weight to roll Laura onto her stomach. Laura began to regain her bearings, trying to gather her strength to stand up, but Amisha was relentless. She came crashing down on Laura with all her might, thrusting herself downward and sitting firmly on the small of Laura’s back.

The impact drove the air from Laura's lungs, and she let out a choked “ugh” as the weight pressed down on her, smashing her back down against the floor. The pressure was intense, her body pinned beneath Amisha’s determined form.

The Asian woman didn’t hesitate. She buried her hands in the back of Laura’s chestnut hair, her fingers tangling in the folds as she pulled the younger woman’s head up off the carpet. The pain was sharp and immediate, sending a jolt through Laura’s scalp as she cried out in protest, still somewhat disoriented.

With ruthless cruelty, Amisha shifted her grip, wrapping her hands underneath Laura’s chin and pulling backward. Laura's neck strained under the pressure as Amisha leaned back, gritting her teeth as she arched her opponent's spine in a brutal hold.

Laura’s back bent painfully as she struggled against the hold, her body caught. The strain on her neck and spine was excruciating, she moaned out, the sound somewhat muffled by the other woman’s hands as Amisha pulled back even harder, forcing her eyes up towards the ceiling, and smushing her face up.

The tawny skinned woman released her chin with her right hand, and slapped her in the tit again, striking the front of the orb, causing it to flop about. She brought her hand in again, this time burying her fingers in the English girl’s chest, as she gave a choked scream, unable to even do that properly through her distorted neck.

Amisha growled into her ear, “You ready to give up yet, you pale bitch?

Laura moaned out incoherently, she was stuck. She could barely move. She could barely  think. Her back was in agony and her right breast was being contorted grotesquely in the older woman’s grip. She only had one option left. She twisted her head as much as she could with her chin being cupped and pulled. Her eyes locked onto the nearest target—Amisha’s arm—and without a second thought, she bit down hard.

The taste of sweat and skin filled her mouth as her teeth sank into Amisha’s flesh. The Asian woman wailed in pain and shock, the sound echoing off the walls, and instinctively released her grip on Laura’s chin, almost shoving her head away. Laura's head dropped to the floor with a thud, but the relief of freedom from the hold was immediate.

Seizing her chance, Laura bucked wildly, her body twisting and turning beneath Amisha's weight. With a final heave, she threw Amisha off of her, sending her sprawling forward to land in front of her on all fours. Amisha scrambled to regain her footing, crawling forward and then rising to her knees, but Laura was already on the move.

With a surge of sudden adrenaline, Laura crawled after her rival driving directly into her from behind, using her weight to slam her into the edge of the sofa, as her tits slapped and compressed against her back. Despite the fact that they were still on their knees, the impact jolted through them both, Laura relished the satisfaction of regaining control.

She didn't waste a moment, she pressed firmly into the back of Amisha’s neck with her left hand to hold her, and then she plunged her right hand down past the Asian woman’s butt, shoving her hand between her thighs and groping around. She felt the older woman’s pubic hair beneath her hand and wrapped her fingers into it, pulling at it fiercely.

Amisha yelped and then screamed as she jerked around, trying to find some relief. Laura’s fingers were tangled deeply however and she couldn’t shift them.

Laura struggle to contain the writhing woman while pulling at her pussy hair. She smiled a fierce, joyless smile as she heard Amisha’s squeals of pain.

“Still think I’m jealous of your disgusting bush, bitch?” Laura gloated, shaking roughly with her groping hand. “No wonder your husband doesn’t want you anymore. You should marry an Indian guy next time, maybe he’d like it.”

Amisha growled in pain and anger. “Who do you think you are, you racist English cxnt?!”

Laura felt Amisha’s left foot smack into her thigh, just above the knee. Then she was sliding back as the brown skinned woman kicked out with her leg, driving the younger woman’s knee out from under her and sending her sprawling chest first onto the ground.

She felt some of the air being expelled from her lungs as she smacked hard into the carpet, but she gathered herself and fought to keep her wits about her. Her hand was still tangled in Amisha’s pubic hair though it was now stretched almost to the point of ripping. Laura pulled down sharply from her prone position and heard the Indian woman scream bloody murder as a clump of it was torn free.

As Amisha whirled around, Laura managed to roll over onto her back, her limbs scrambling for purchase against the floor. The two women locked eyes for a brief, electric moment before Amisha lunged, coming down hard on top of Laura, their bodies colliding with a thud that reverberated through the room.

The air was thick with the sound of their panting breaths and the wet sliding of skin against skin as they grappled frantically, each seeking to gain the upper hand. Amisha's weight bore down on Laura, her hands pressing down into her stomach to try to keep her still and immobilized on the ground. Laura twisted beneath her, desperately trying to maneuver out from under the older woman's pin.

She pressed her right hand, still containing Amisha’s ripped out pubes, up into the Asian woman’s face, trying to hold her back. The older woman pulled her head back a bit, trying to keep her own pubes out of her face.

“You nasty bitch,” she snarled.

Encouraged by her rivals disgust Laura stretched out her arm farther and pressed the hair against the older woman’s lips, trying to force it into her mouth. Amisha pressed her lips together tightly as it rubbed against them, and shoved Laura’s hand to the floor beside her, and wrenched the hair out of her hands, throwing it violently to the side.

Facing opposite directions, they quickly became a tangled mass of flailing limbs, their struggles wild and unrestrained. The younger woman turned her head slightly as the brown skinned woman’s arse hovered just a few centimeters from her face. Laura's fingers clawed at her rival’s back, searching for leverage, while Amisha's hands sought to maintain control, her nails digging into the younger woman’s hips and upper legs.

In a burst of energy Laura grabbed the Asian woman’s wrists and pulled her hands off her hips, leaving her legs free to hitch up and wrap around Amisha’s head, squeezing like she was trying to crush a watermelon between her thighs.

Laura heard her groan, in pain and anger at feeling herself trapped again. She could feel Amisha's frantic attempts to free herself, the other woman’s nails scratching at her legs as she struggled to breathe.

The scissor hold was effective, and for a moment, Laura felt a surge of triumph as Amisha's movements grew even more desperate. She winced in pain when the Indian mother reached around her legs and dug her fingernails into her arse cheeks, but the heady mix of power and exhilaration she felt at having Amisha trapped did much to alleviate the pain.

For some reason the brown skinned woman got up on her feet, though she was still forced to bend at the waist as her head was stuck between the pale woman’s legs. She stumbled around awkwardly above her. Her large tits hung down, blotches of red dotting her tawny skin. Laura could see the nearly hairless patch of skin where she had torn some of her bush off of her. A primal urge ran through her. She reached her hand up and grabbed at the older woman’s pussy, showing two fingers inside and digging in, both clawing at her insides and using the fingers as an anchor. She heard Amisha’s muffled scream and squeezed her legs even harder around Amisha’s head.

“Fucking give up, you paki cxnt!” She shrieked at her trapped rival.

And then it was her turn to howl as a flash of white hot pain lanced through her left thigh, as the trapped woman sunk her teeth into her. She screamed again as the pain continued, and attempted to hold on. She clawed harder at Amisha’s pussy and put everything she had into squeezing her head, but she just couldn’t hold on. She separated her legs and and kicked her right foot into the side of the Asian woman’s head, knocking her bite loose. She then pushed with her leg on her head and the hand on her pussy to shove Amisha away from her.

Laura ran her fingers over the marks Amisha’s teeth had left in her thigh, staring at them with disbelief, as a tiny drop of blood began to well up.

“You bit me!” She shouted, glaring furiously at the Indian mother. “You actually bit me!”

“You bit me first you stupid fucking chav,” Amisha yelled back indignantly, massaging her neck. “You had your bloody fingers INSIDE my pussy!”

The biting and the violating clawing had ignited a new level of fury in both Laura and Amisha, any possible remaining hesitations were completely shredded. There was no room left for any semblance of restraint; all that mattered now was their victory over the other. Their domination and humiliation of their hated rival.

They launched themselves at each other once more, each moving with a vengeance. They clashed on their knees in a violent frenzy, limbs flailing and voices rising in wordless screams of anger. It was as though the rest of the world had fallen away, leaving only the two of them locked in this primal, savage conflict.

Each of them sent one of their hands flying into each other’s hair, fingers tangling and gripping with merciless intensity. They yanked and pulled, both determined to prove their dominance over the other once and for all. The hair-pulling was brutal, each woman intent on tearing clumps of hair from the other's scalp. The sensation was excruciating, and they both winced with pain but refused to yield an inch. Strands of brown and black hair began to fall to their shoulders and to the carpet.

Amisha punched her in the side of her face and Laura responded immediately, their free hands rained down slaps and punches on each other with abandon. Laura swung a wild slap that connected with the Asian woman’s cheek, the sharp crack echoing around them. The force of the blow left a bright red mark on Amisha’s skin, but she barely seemed to register it, her focus solely on causing the younger woman’s pain in return.

Laura’s stopped punching with her right hand and instead dropped it to grab at Amisha’s tit, digging in with her finger nails hard enough to leave crescent-shaped marks. She quickly changed strategy and brought her fingers in, pinching the Asian woman’s dark nipple and twisting it fiercely.

Amisha yelled in pain and stopped striking as well. Instead of going for the English girl’s tits though, she dug her claws into her face.

“Aiiigggghhhh!” Laura screamed out, “get off my fucking face!”
 
“Caleb won’t even look at you when I’m done with you, you fucking white whore!” Amisha spat, her voice dripping with venom.

With a cry of pain and despair Laura let go of the Asian woman’s breast and clawed at her face in turn. Despite her own searing pain, she felt a primal satisfaction as the older woman screamed out and tried to wrench away as she dragged her fingers down her cheeks.

The fight took on a vicious rhythm as their faces became covered in angry welts. They shoved each other back and forth, each trying to inflict maximum damage while avoiding the worst of the other's attacks. Their grips on each other's hair tightened, the tug-of-war between them escalating as more strands were ripped free, and they clawed at each other’s faces with their free hands.

They were locked in a stalemate, both desperate to gain the upper hand, both refusing to show any sign of weakness.

Amisha wrenched Laura down to the ground with a fierce pull, shoving at her face with her scratching hand at the same time, her grip relentless as she straddled Laura's waist. She loomed over her, eyes blazing. With swift, brutal motions, she started punching down at Laura’s face. In contrast to their previous attempts at punching, each strike was slow and deliberate, and aimed with precision. Laura twisted her head from side to side, doing her best to avoid the full impact of the blows. As hard as Amisha was throwing them, with all her weight behind her arm, the younger girl knew that if one caught her flush, she might be in trouble. 

Desperate to escape before the other woman could land one, Laura drove her knee hard into Amisha's back. The sharp jab made the brown skinned woman arch away, loosening her hold just enough for Laura to seize the opportunity. Her fingers still tangled in Amisha's hair, she yanked sideways, forcing Amisha to topple off her. They hit the floor with a thud, rolling away and then back toward each other like two furious felines locked in combat.

Side by side now, they threw punches at each other, arms colliding in a chaotic flurry. Their strikes were not very hard as the space between them was tight, and their energy was waning, but neither seemed willing to concede. They exchanged blows, each trying to gain the upper hand, but their movements were wild and unfocused, fueled by adrenaline and fury.

Laura gritted her teeth as she felt Amisha's nails scratch against her skin, leaving burning trails in their wake. She retaliated with equal ferocity, her fists flying as she aimed for whatever part of Amisha she could reach. But their tussle was quickly devolving into a desperate scuffle, arms twisted around each other until they were virtually locked in place, neither able to deliver a decisive punch. Chest to chest their breasts smashed together, flesh bulging out the sides, Laura felt the older woman’s nipples drive directly into hers and the two pairs flattened on each other.

With their arms too entwined to strike effectively, they turned to their legs, attempting to knee each other even as their lower bodies tangled. They panted and gasped for breath as they rolled, each trying to gain leverage with short, vicious knee strikes. It was an awkward, exhausting struggle, the confined space and their own fatigue turning their efforts into a clumsy mess, neither was doing much damage, as their bodies pressed so closely together that each knee delivered more of a push than a strike. The room echoed with their harsh breathing and the muffled thud of bodies colliding. Laura could feel Amisha's breath against her cheek, hot and ragged, as they continued to slowly but fiercely grapple on the floor. Both women were drenched in sweat. 

Their legs were so tightly wrapped that Laura could feel Amisha’s pussy rubbing against her own, the hair slick with sweat or arousal. The Asian woman’s clit was engorged  and Laura realized with a shock that hers was as well.

Her rival seemed to be thinking along the same lines. 

“Is this turning you on, you sick English slut?” Amisha groaned, “I’m not surprised, you haven’t been able to keep your hands off my tits and pussy since we started.”

Somehow, despite all that had occurred, Laura felt her face turn red. “You’re just as wet as I am, you old whore,” she growled, “and you grabbed my pussy first!” 

“Only after you grabbed my tits! And I didn’t shove my fingers in like you did, you little dyke!”

“What?” the younger woman taunted, “you afraid I’m going to get you off, like I do your husband?”

A moment after she spoke a curious sensation ran through Laura’s body and an unexpected moan escaped her lips, as she felt Amisha pull her hips back as much as she could in their constricted state and then ram them forward, shoving her pussy forcefully up against her own. The asian woman slammed her pussy into her again before she could respond. She mirrored her movements as the two of them bumped and rubbed their pussies together, moaning in unison in a milieu of fury, pain and ecstasy. 

Laura let out a choked gasp as she felt their clits met. Not hard, but head on. She saw Amisha’s eyes go wide before they narrowed and the Asian woman pressed her pearl into Laura’s with as much force as she could muster. The younger woman cried out and pushed back. Their hips wobbled, their buttocks clenched, and their teeth gritted as their clits went to war against each other, shifting and rubbing, pushing and stabbing. Laura had never felt a sensation that came anywhere near it. She bit down on her bottom lip to stop herself from screaming out in pleasure, as her eyes began to roll back. Amisha moaned freely as their clits battled, also seemingly on the verge of cumming. 

Laura couldn’t hold on much longer. This bitch could NOT make her orgasm. She screamed out and threw her head back, before swinging it forward and sinking her teeth into the dusky skinned woman’s breast, just above the nipple. 

Amisha wailed in pain and tugged her arms free of their entanglement, pushing her hands at Laura’s head in a desperate attempt to get her teeth off of her tender flesh. Laura jerked her legs and pushed off the ground with her now free hands, trying to get firmly on top of her rival. She let go with her teeth as she pushed up, her knee inadvertently banging into Amisha’s swollen pussy as she stood, drawing a sharp grunt.

She got to her feet above the Indian woman and turned, before slamming herself down, just sitting hard on Amisha’s face and driving it back to the ground. She felt the older woman’s nose and lips against her sopping pussy as she bore down with her weight, shaking her hips a bit. 

“You like eating my pussy, Asian bitch?” Laura growled out, “Sorry I didn’t rub any curry on it for you.”

She reached down in front of her, grabbing onto Amisha’s right tit and giving it a furious shake.

“Now tell me you give up or I’ll sit here till Caleb gets back!” She screamed at the squirming woman beneath her, “Do you hear me cxnt?” I will FUCK YOU right here on the floor in front of him!”

Laura looked down the length of her rival’s glistening tawny body where it stretched out in front of her, squirming and bucking beneath her in discomfort. She felt triumphant, she had never felt anything like this in her life. To look down at the body of the woman, the rival female who she had subdued. She didn’t know if it was the victory or the fact that she was sitting on the other woman’s face, but she had never been so aroused. 

She stretched her hand down towards the brown woman’s waist, bending over a bit so that she could reach her pussy. Her fingers once again wrapped into the thatch of black hair between her legs, tugging up sharply. Just as she pulled up she saw Amisha’s knee flying backwards towards her. She didn’t have the time, reflexes, or position to dodge or deflect it. It slammed into her chin enough to knock her back and off of the prone woman, reeling. 

She turned over onto her hands and knees, disoriented, and tried to crawl away to create some distance between her and her enemy so that she could steady herself. She heard the other woman crawling up behind her and struggled to stand. She got to one knee before Amisha was on her, wrapping her arms around her waist from behind and pulling her back to her knees. She tried to crawl forward, but the dark skinned woman was still hugging her hips, hanging on.

Laura screamed like a mad woman as Amisha plunged three fingers knuckle deep into her pussy, fingering and clawing all at once. 

Amisha screamed, “You’re going to need a new pussy after I’m done with you, you fucking whore!” 

Laura locked her legs together, squeezing the older woman’s wrist as she groped down between her legs to try to pull the hand free. Suddenly the hand was gone and she felt Amisha’s whole body rushing towards her. She managed to turn halfway around on her hands and knees, before the Indian woman slammed into her side and shoved her forward so that she landed on her right side, facing her enemy. Amisha’s knee drove into her belly and rolled her over onto her back. 

The Asian woman stood halfway up as she pursued her, only to bring her knee once again crashing into her belly, this time planting it there and driving in to pin the younger woman to the floor. Laura groaned as the air was driven from her. She reached up with the arm closest to her foe to claw at her, but Amisha quickly raised her other leg and pinned the attacking arm beneath it. 

From her dominant position Amisha sent two slaps flying into her face, one of which she managed to block, and then two more into her tits. She then reached down with her other hand and, with brutal and deliberate precision, dug her nails into the younger woman’s clit. 

Laura felt an inhuman wail tear from her lips as her older rival clawed at her. She thrashed her hips as much as she could with the Asian woman’s knee in her belly, but came nowhere near getting her nails off. The other woman threw a few more slaps at her face and tits before wrapping her hand in her hair and pulling it up.

“Do you give up bitch?” Amisha screamed at her, “Do you give up?”

“Fuck…you!” Laura wailed at her, tears running freely down her cheeks. 

Amisha dug her nails into her clit harder, twisting slightly and eliciting another agonized scream.

“I said, DO YOU GIVE UP!?” 

“Yes! Yes!” Laura sobbed, “please let go!”

Amisha’s fingers released her clit, but immediately began to plunge in and out of the English woman’s snatch. Laura sobbed and moaned at once as the older woman went at her. 

“So, Laura,” the Indian woman growled, “who is fucking who?” 

Laura tried to resist, but before long she felt herself cumming, despite her best efforts to hold it in. She cried out as a massive orgasm ripped through her body, leaving her shaking on her rival's fingers. 

Before she even managed to get her breathing under control she felt Amisha pivot, swinging her leg over her body and planting her butt firmly on her sore breasts, facing her legs. The other woman’s hand was still on her pussy. 

“Now listen to me whore,” Amisha’s voice was husky with lust, “you are going to eat me like the slut you are, and if you even think of fighting back or biting me, I’ll tear THIS right off of you.” 

She punctuated her threat with a firm pinch of Laura’s clit. Then she lifted her hips up and thrust her pussy into the English woman’s face, pressing it against her mouth. Laura had no choice but to comply and soon enough she could feel the older woman thrusting and twitching as she rode her face to an explosive orgasm of her own. 

The two of them laid there for a moment, before Amisha stood up. Laura winced as the Asian woman spit on her prone body, and then walked from the room without another word. The English woman remained on her back, struggling to catch her breath as the soft carpet caressed her wounds. She felt tears well in her eyes. How had this happened? It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She was supposed to dominate her lover’s wicked wife, freeing him from her clutches so that he could find happiness with her. She wasn’t supposed to be the one sobbing on the carpet. Her whole body ached. She couldn’t believe what they had done to each other. 

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of the other woman returning to the room. She has a bottle in her hand which she held up for Laura’s inspection. The English girl gulped as she saw that it had a picture of Caleb and Amisha, her in a beautiful traditional Indian wedding gown and him in a tux, along with the words ‘Mr. and Mrs. Wilson 10/06/18’. 

“This is a bottle of the wine that Caleb and I shared at our wedding, you little home-wrecking whore,” Amisha growled. She was still naked, her body covered with scratches, swollen patches, and teeth marks. Her hair was a mess. She went down to her knees in front of Laura’s legs. 

“Enjoy it, this is the last fuck you will ever have from him.”

Laura didn’t even resist, she just sobbed as the neck of the wine bottle was shoved inside of her and started to move back and forth.

“Thought you were better than me bitch,” Amisha growled, ramming the bottle in harder and harder, “ Thought you could take my man. How’d my Indian pussy taste, you racist white whore?”

Laura felt her arousal building again, she tried to hold it in but a small moan escaped her lips. 

“Tell me I’m the better woman, you stupid little slut.” When she didn’t respond Amisha reached up and slapped her across the face with her empty hand. She continued to work the wine bottle faster and faster. 

“You’re…you’re the… better woman.” Laura sobbed, her breaths coming harder and faster. Before she knew it she felt a heat flash through her and she was cumming again, her head thrown back as she moaned out screams of ecstasy. 

When she finished she was a shaking, quivering mess. Amisha stood up, leaving the wine bottle where  it was. 

“You’re right bitch,” she snarled mercilessly, “I am the better woman, never forget that. Now get your clothes on and get out, and if I ever see you around Caleb or this house again, this will seem like a fucking spa day compared to what I’ll do to you, understand?” 

Laura nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak as her lips quivered and tears welled in her eyes. She avoided Amisha’s gaze as she got dressed as quickly as she could and hurried from the room. Once she was out in the street, she walked numbly to the local park, where she found an out of the way bench and broke down, sobbing uncontrollably into her hands.


THE END

[sinclairfan]

Lots of good things in the buildup:

<> Amisha and Caleb growing apart
<> Laura cyber-stalking Amisha
<> Laura challenging Amisha to a fight
<> The two women disclosing it's their first fight (altho.... why not?  Had they had opportunities and backed down?)
<> The two women fighting privately....
<> ....and stripping pre-fight.

Still curious about the epilogue, tho.  Did the fight rekindle Amisha and Caleb's relationship?  Or did Amisha realize she wasn't straight?

[Dude64]

So great! Your so talented

[Doc Holliday]

Holy shit! This might be the best story I have ever read on this site! I absolutely love everything you write. Can’t wait to see what you do next!

[Austin315]

Wow! This story is seriously next level stuff! It seems your writing is getting exponentially better and better. My personal opinion you're easily one of the best writers on this site. Thank you!

[bobf]

Truly amazing stuff!!

[Tangocash1234]

Hi Damerei

Are you still around? Your Email address is bouncing. I wanted to contact you regarding a commission.

Thanks