[TheScribbler]

This is the first story in the reincarnation of the Society as a story series.  Thanks to newgirlwalking for letting me use her as the ‘Jane’ character.  My thanks also to all those who indicated their interest in participating...we’ll get to you I did include cameo appearances by quite a few members.  I hope you’ll recognize them, and I’m pretty sure they’ll recognize themselves.

I plan to post the story in sections, a day apart.  This will give the fighters a chance a post their thoughts about events so far, and for other people to add their comments as they ‘watch’ the fight.  Feel free to add your own color commentary if you wish.

Enjoy!

Scrib

WELCOME TO THE BIG TIME

Jane literally did not know where to look.  The room in which she stood was at least the size of a high school gymnasium, probably bigger.  It was two storeys high and floor-to-ceiling windows at one end offered sweeping views over the lights of Downtown Manhattan, the Statue of Liberty and the darkness of New York Harbor beyond. The sights within the room were equally eye-catching.  Among the people gathered for this cocktail party were faces she recognized from TV – both from shows and from the evening news.  There were a lot of faces she didn’t know too, but from the look of their clothes and jewelry, they were no less affluent than the celebrities.  She tried not to gape.  She didn’t want to look like a hick but in this crowd, it was hard not to feel like one.

She found herself unconsciously smoothing down her black dress – the proverbial little black dress, short to reveal an expanse of strong but feminine thighs, sleeveless to show off her arms, with a halter neck that dipped low at the front to accentuate her full bosom and the deep vee of her cleavage.  Her blonde hair fell across her bare, powerful but shapely shoulders.  Gold drop earrings completed the look, though their sparkle felt somewhat dim against the dazzle of gold and gems that bedecked many of the women in the room. 

Tossing her head, she swept a stray strand back from her face with one hand and reminded herself that she wasn’t here to impress these people with her clothes or her jewels.  She hadn’t come here to admire the view, nor to ogle the crowd like some star struck teenager.  No, she was here to show these people – all of them – that she was worthy to stand among them.  For this was not just any gathering of New York’s rich and powerful, not just any cocktail party for the social elite.  This was the most exclusive venue in the underground catfighting culture, a place and a group that had an almost mythical reputation.  This was the Society.

To fight here was a privilege that few fighters attained. To even be invited meant that she had achieved a level of notoriety, that she was at the top of her game.  It was her reward for all the long hours in the gym, for all the brawls in sweaty dive bars back in Mississippi, for the bruises and the scratches and the pain.  This was her ticket to the big time.

All she had to do was win.

A woman approached her – about Jane’s own height, with a lush mane of chestnut brown hair tumbling over her shoulders.  She wore a clinging white dress that revealed an extraordinary amount of tanned, toned flesh.  Sleeveless, it left her right shoulder bare, hugged her generous bosom and showed just the slightest hint of nipple through the filmy fabric.  Much of her torso below the bust was also bare, exposing a firm, flat belly with well-defined abs.  A silver – or perhaps white gold – ring gleamed in her navel, and a tiny medallion dangled from it.  Jane recognized the Society logo – a stylized ‘S’ embossed on a gold background.  The white skirt of her dress left her right leg entirely bare, revealing the toned muscles of her thigh and calf.  Even in heels she moved with a rangy stride and carried herself in a way that left no doubt she was a fighter.  She extended her hand with a smile.  “You must be Jane.”

Jane smiled back.  “Yes,” was all she think of to say.

“I’m Tiffany,” the woman went on.  Jane noticed her eyes flickering up and down Jane’s body from head to toe, assessing, evaluating, sizing her up.  That didn’t faze Jane.  It wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last.  Jane had done – was doing right now – precisely the same thing as she felt the strength in the brunette’s grip.

“Welcome,” continued Tiffany.  She smiled again.  “I would say ‘welcome to the Society’ but that comes later...if you win tonight.”

“When I win tonight,” said Jane with subtle emphasis on the when.

Tiffany’s smile widened a little.  “Let me show you around...introduce you to some people.”  She turned and led Jane over to where a knot of people stood talking with glasses in their hands.  Tiffany slipped her arm around the waist of a tall, buxom blonde who immediately broke off her conversation with a distinguished-looking older man in a grey sports jacket and kissed Tiffany lingeringly on the lips.  “Hi Babes.”

The blonde grinned.  “Hey Baby.”  She looked at Jane.  “Who’s your new friend?”

“Jade, this is Jane.  Jane’s here to try out.”

Jade gave Jane the same once-over that Tiffany had done.  Jane returned the compliment.  It was hard to judge height when everyone was in heels, but she estimated Jade was a couple inches taller than her – taller than Tiffany too – and maybe five or ten pounds heavier.  The size difference didn’t bother Jane. If they were to face off against one another, size would be a factor but not the only factor in determining who would prevail.  Back home in Mississippi, Jane had seen a girl who was not even five feet tall and must have weighed barely eighty pounds, outfight a girl easily four or five inches taller and twenty pounds heavier.  To paraphrase the old saying, it wasn’t the size of the cat in the fight – it was the size of the fight in the cat.  Jane had plenty of fight in her, particularly when the chips were down and the stakes were high – and they certainly were, here tonight.

The blonde wore a strapless black leather dress that hugged her slim waist and narrow hips, revealed the golden-tanned upper slopes of her large and well-rounded bosom, and ended at mid-thigh to expose much of her shapely yet well-muscled legs.  A gold pendant encircled her neck and hung low above her breasts, and a matching bracelet adorned her left wrist.

Jade smiled at Jane.  “Nice to meet you,” she said, “and best of luck.”  She kept her arm around Tiffany’s waist.  The two were clearly more than friends.

“Thanks,” replied Jane automatically.

“Do you know who you’re up against?”

Jane shook her head.  “No idea.  I guess I’ll know when they decide to tell me.”

“Another new girl trying out for admission to the Society,” said Tiffany in explanation.  “You’ll find out when it’s time.”

“You’re from the South,” observed Jade.

“Mississippi.”

The taller woman nodded.  “A lot of tough fighters down there.”

“I know,” replied Jane.  She fixed Jade with a steady stare.  “I kicked the asses of a bunch of them to get here.”  They locked eyes for a long moment.  Neither flinched.

It was Tiffany who broke the deadlock.  “Let me show you around some more.”

Jane looked at her and smiled.  “Yeah, that’d be great.”

They picked their way between groups of party guests, across the middle of the room.  The carpet here was thicker, bounded by two broad staircases that curved up to the second floor, where there was a bar at the end of the room furthest from the windows.  “This is the arena,” explained Tiffany, “or at least it will be when it’s time for you to fight and people clear away.”

Jane nodded.  There were low tables in several tiers alongside the staircases, each flanked by a black leather couch and shielded by glass screens from the arena below.  As the stairs became taller, the glass turned to mirrors, reflecting Jane’s gaze back at her.  More tables and couches faced the arena from the window side of the room.  It truly was an arena – a stage in the round, where the audience would view the fight from all sides and even from above.  The butterflies that had fluttered in Jane’s stomach ever since she had arrived grew stronger.  She steadied herself.  This was what she had come here for.  This was the big time.  This was her chance and she was up to the challenge.  She could do this.  She would do this.

Partway up the left-hand staircase, they came upon another group of people.  There were four – three women and a man.  They were engrossed in conversation but stopped when Jane and Tiffany approached.  “This is Jane,” Tiffany introduced her.  “She’s the new candidate tonight.”

One of the women – a blonde who, in her heels, was taller than the man in the group - smiled at Jane, though her smile went nowhere near her eyes.  She wore a slinky black dress, sleeveless and low cut to show off her well-proportioned bust – it seemed cleavage was in profusion in the Society – and a diamond pendant nestled against the tops of her breasts.  Matching earrings peeked through the long gold tresses of her hair.  She stood with her left leg cocked outward slightly and the slit in her dress revealed one long, attractive but and well-toned thigh.  She carried an abnormally large black patent leather purse tucked under her left arm.  “Mmm,” she said as she gave Jane the obligatory appraising look, “fresh meat.”

“Lighten up, Natalia,” said Tiffany with more than a hint of scorn in her voice.  “She’s not falling for your act any more than the rest of us.”

“Oh it’s no act, honey,” retorted Natalia, “as you’ll find out if you ever find the courage to face me in the arena.”  She gave a scornful sniff of her own.  “Then the Society will see what a real champion looks like.”

One of the other women interrupted.  She was short, solidly built with broad Hispanic features and an astonishingly generous bosom that was emphasized by the plunging neckline of her mauve print cocktail dress.   “I’m Lucy,” she offered her hand, “but call me Lulu.  This is my husband Vic.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Vic extended his hand with an entirely different kind of appraising gaze to that which his wife had given.  Jane didn’t mind.  She was used to that kind of look too – he was a guy, after all.  She was more interested in his wife.  Broad shoulders and powerful arms betrayed a physical strength that would be formidable in a fight.  She’s a grappler, and probably a tough one.

The third woman in the group stuck out her hand.  “I’m Tiffany.” She smiled.  “Yeah, there’s more than one.” She was older, maybe in her late thirties, with a golden tan and tousled blonde hair that cascaded over her shoulders and down her back.  Her well-toned muscles and slender but very buxom figure were well displayed by the leopard print mini-dress that ended high on her thighs, revealing a hint of lace at the tops of her black stockings. She was tall, almost but not quite as tall as Natalia even in four inch heels, but still taller than Vic.  She drew herself up to her full height and added, “I’m also known as the Platinum Queen.”

Before Jane could say anything in reply, another voice from behind her cut in. “More like the jobber queen! Or maybe Bimbo Barbie!”

Jane swiveled her head to look over her shoulder.  The speaker was a striking young woman with long raven hair, taller than Jane though her height was boosted by tall spiked heels.  Clinging black leggings hugged her long shapely legs and well rounded butt, and she wore a blue and white striped halter top with a red triangle on her right side and a white star over her jutting, rounded right breast – a Cuban flag print.

She was accompanied by another woman, similar in appearance though several inches shorter.  She too wore black leggings but hers were leather.  Her top was striped blue, red and yellow with an arc of white stars.  Jane recalled that this too was a flag of some South American country – Venezuela? Colombia?  High school geography was a few too many years ago.

The taller of the two Tiffanys scowled.  “Sugar, you need to show some respect.”

“You need to show me something worth respecting,” the newcomer shot back.

The other Tiffany – Jane’s escort – spoke up.  “Jane, meet Eva and Carmen...also known as the comedy company.”  From the look on her face, it was clear that she had little liking for the two.

The Cuban-flagged girl turned her attention to Jane.  “Better known as Caliente y Loca, best tag team around,” she grinned.  “I’m Eva.  You’re the new girl, huh?”

“I’m the new girl,” confirmed Jane with more confidence than she felt.  She was used to being surrounded by strong women – the clubs back home were no nursery school – but the talent here was on a different level.  She would stand an even chance against any of these women, but no more than an even chance.  The butterflies in her stomach grew even stronger.

“Best of luck,” said Carmen, the other one.  “Hopefully you don’t draw me or Eva.” She grinned.  “With luck you’ll get this old slut.” She winked at the blonde Tiffany.

“Watch your mouth!” growled Tiffany back at her.

Carmen laughed.  “What are you gonna do, Barbie Doll?  Challenge me?  You know how that will go down...just like all the other times.”

The older blonde’s shoulders tensed.  Jane wondered if Tiffany would start something then and there, but then she smiled – a smile that barely creased her full, pink-painted lips and, like Natalia’s earlier, didn’t touch her carefully lined eyes.  “You’ll keep.”

Eva spoke to Jane again.  “If you do draw her for your audition fight, just remember one thing,” she advised.  “Get a rope...or a bikini strap...around her...wrists, ankles, even around one of those big flabby tits of hers...and she’s yours.  She’ll fall on her back with her legs open and beg for it, won’t you Barbie?”

Tiffany’s face flushed dark.  Her fists clenched.  “You’ll keep,” she repeated in a voice that quivered with anger.

Jane watched impassively.  She was no stranger to this kind of taunting.  It happened in every fight club, everywhere.  It was somehow reassuring to know that it was no different here, despite the expensive trappings, the glittering jewels and the high fashion – though she looked sideways at the two Latinas, Carmen and Eva, who seemed more appropriately dressed for some meat-market nightclub than for a party such as this.  Similarly, blonde Tiffany – she had mentally tagged them ‘blonde Tiffany’ and ‘brunette Tiffany’ – looked like she was dressed to stand under a street lamp.

“I won’t be fighting any of you, I don’t think,” said Jane.  “They tell me I’m up against another new girl.”

“Let’s...move on,” suggested Tiffany, with a look at Eva that could have curdled milk.  They moved on, up the stairs toward the mezzanine floor.  When they were a sufficient distance away, she added in a low voice, “Watch your back around those two.”

Jane resisted the urge to look back at Eva and Carmen, who she assumed were the subjects of Tiffany’s remark.  “How come?”

“They’ll go off on you at the drop of a hat, and they’re not above going two-on-one either.  You cross one, you cross them both, and then it’s on.”

Jane asked the question that had been lurking in her mind.  “Are they lovers?”

Tiffany shrugged. “Nobody seems to know...and the word is, the last girl who speculated about it woke up naked in a life raft on the Staten Island Ferry.”

While Jane was wondering what to say in response to that, they walked up to the bar.  There stood several other groups of partygoers and Tiffany went over to the nearest of these.  They were a mixed bunch – several older men and their wives, along with a few apparently unattached women.  Jane recognized several of them.  One of the men was a well-known TV presenter, another a popular movie actor, as was one of the women.  Tiffany introduced them and Jane did her best to maintain some composure as she shook hands.

One of the older women – though in this case, older meant only mid-thirties – was about Jane’s height though more heavily built, with a cloud of dark red curls.  She introduced herself as Mona.  What captured Jane’s attention was her purple cocktail dress, flecked with silver, tight across the bosom to reveal what were obviously nipple piercings beneath.  Perhaps even more remarkable was the necklace she wore – a thick gold chain with a padlock that nestled in the hollow of her throat.  Was that really a collar? If so, whose?  Dommes and subs were not unknown in the catfight culture but they were not all that common either.

The girl standing beside Mona, whom Tiffany introduced as Bailey, was a younger, slender brunette in a red dress that showed off her legs and a bosom that was quite out of proportion to her slight build.  She too wore a chain necklace similar to Mona’s.  Jane tried not to stare.  It was an aspect of the culture that she had never paid much attention to.  It seemed the Society was, in some respects, little different to other fight clubs – rife with layers and nuances.

The final woman in the group was an attractive blonde named Britney, in a red dress that was a shade lighter than Bailey’s.  She spoke with a noticeable accent and, when Jane inquired, revealed she was from Brazil, though she used the Latin pronunciation ‘Brasil’ instead.  “I’ve been living here for a year now,” she added, “ever since I beat Tiffany to get into the Society.” She smiled knowingly into Tiffany’s narrowed eyes.

Jane gave Tiffany an inquiring look.  “But didn’t that other girl...Natalia...say you were the champion?”

“Not a title fight,” replied Tiffany dismissively.

“Seems like Tiffany only ever loses in a non-title fight,” remarked Mona archly in a southern drawl – Jane guessed Georgia from the accent.  “Some day hon, your luck’s gonna run out.”

“Not to you, bitch,” Tiffany shot back.

Before anyone could say anything further, a slender blonde in a black t-shirt and pants – apparently one of the club’s staff – approached and whispered in Tiffany’s ear.  With a final glare at Britney and Mona, Tiffany turned to Jane.  “It’s time,” she said.  She nodded toward the blonde.  “Go with Nikki.  She’ll take you to the dressing room and explain how it goes from here.”  She gave Jane a steely smile.  “Good luck.”

TO BE CONTINUED...

[Vanessa Marsh]

I breeze past security with a quick flash of my bonafides. (naw, neither set of "girls", it's the 21st century, after all) Stepping into the foray of the Society's sprawling, opulent suite. A bit late, perhaps, but traffic is a bitch, and some of us still have daytime jobs. I saunter towards the bar, casting a quick glance around the room as I plan my own private bacchanalian soirée.

My eyes passing over the assembled bourgeois with indifference. It's been ages since I've known what it's like to be starstruck, and it's not a Hollywood A lister, or nouveau robber baron who might get it in their head to try and add me as a notch to their gunbelt. No, my eyes are only for the other combatants (I'm being generous with that term in more than a few instances) as I slide onto the nearest bar stool. "Whiskey" I say distractedly, my right hand motioning towards the top shelf. I've had the devil's own day, and it's not the time to get stingy.

Halfway across the room, introductions are being made. Tiffany and her flavor of the month are squiring around some shapely blonde, and the bits and pieces I can make out of her speech set me to a quiet humming of Dixie Darling. Sensing eyes on me, I turn back to the bartender, an overinflated, under educated blonde, who's STILL staring at me with a look that screams "whiskey AND?"

"Whiskey." I say flatly, depositing a 20 on the marble top of the bar, My gaze drifting back to the welcoming committee. Taking inventory of the assembled luminaries, most known to me, intimately or otherwise. The two Tiffanies, the duo from south of the border, (catching Carmen's eye momentarily, she quickly turns away. Having nightmares about the time she decided to try me, I reckon.) Ah, and Bailey. A smile forming on my lips as I see that she's in her "Domme" period, leading some redhead around like most of the women here would their purse dogs. "An affectation, to be sure. But a clever one!" I note casually, which draws a confused stare from the barmaid. Sweeping the whiskey towards me, I dismiss her with a wave. "Don't worry your pretty little head about it. Just be fast on the draw, and reticent with the mouth. We'll get on fine."

[Freddy (B.A.W.)]

Oh yeeeeessssss! Society's back! And a lot of "interesting" new women are there!
Go on with the excellent job, Scribbler and Tiffany!

Vanessa is a nice addition and I hope to see some of the "former" stars too, especially Michelle, Serena, Lyanna, Valeria................

[Michelle]

Oh yeeeeessssss! Society's back! And a lot of "interesting" new women are there!
Go on with the excellent job, Scribbler and Tiffany!

Vanessa is a nice addition and I hope to see some of the "former" stars too, especially Michelle, Serena, Lyanna, Valeria................

Don't worry Freddie....Michael and I will be around...stay tuned...

[TheScribbler]

Herewith, Section Two of the story.

Cheers,

Scrib

*****

Jane followed the black-clad blonde down the length of the bar and through a door at the far end.  Beyond she found herself in a small vestibule at the top of a narrow staircase.  Her guide – Nikki – led the way downstairs.  “The dressing rooms are underneath the bar,” she explained.  At the bottom of the stairway was another door that opened into a small but still comfortably and expensively appointed room.  There was a couch against one wall – black leather like those outside – and a well-lit dressing table with a mirror and a stool, almost like a theater dressing room.  A full length mirror hung on the wall.  A small closet space sat in one corner, and a bathroom, as big as the dressing room itself with a whirlpool tub and a shower, was visible through a half-open door.

“You have fifteen minutes to change and warm up,” said Nikki.  “I’ll be back.” She stepped back out of the room and closed the door behind her, leaving Jane alone.

Jane didn’t waste any time.  She stepped over to the dressing table, slipped off her heels and placed them neatly side by side.  Her dress followed, and she hung it on the skinny velvet hanger in the closet.  She removed her earrings too and placed them in her small clutch purse, which she laid on the corner of the table. 

She was already wearing the bottom half of the bikini in which she would fight – or at least begin to fight, since she had no delusions that she would keep it on for any length of time.  She wriggled out of it now, since she had spied a squeeze bottle of body oil on the table.  She poured a liberal amount into her hand and began applying it to her bare flesh, quickly covering herself from neck to toe.  The oil would make her bare skin glisten under the bright lights of the arena – like any fight, this was a show for the audience and any show was partly a matter of spectacle.  The oil served a practical purpose too however.  It would make it all the more difficult for her opponent to get a firm grip on her.

As she crossed the room and entered the bathroom to wash the remaining oil from her hands, she wondered who she would face when she stepped out into the arena.  Any of the women she had met so far would be formidable.  Perhaps the easiest would be the brunette, Bailey – Jane would have a distinct size advantage.  Would it be Tiffany, the Society’s champion?  She doubted that.  If the champion was, as she assumed, the best of the best, it was unlikely the Society would pit her against a new girl on her first appearance.  Then again, she reminded herself, it was a random draw so anything was possible.  She hoped it wouldn’t be the big blonde, Natalia.  There was something about the look in that woman’s eyes that sent a chill through Jane.

She returned to the dressing room and stepped back into her bikini bottoms – a hot pink that set off her blonde hair and precisely matched the shade of her lipstick – pulling them up over her strong, supple thighs and seating the straps in place over the curves of her hips.  The bikini was quite full cut and covered much of her butt.  She always thought thongs were a little clichéd.  The audience was going to see her naked soon enough – better to start with a hint of mystery.

Her bikini top, which matched the bottoms, was neatly folded in her purse.  She pulled it out, shook it out and popped it over her head, pulling her hair out from the upper strap before reaching behind her to tie the lower strap deftly between her shoulder blades.  She had been in the fight game long enough to know the tricks, and the knots that held the bikini in place would slip under enough tension, preventing an opponent from using it as a weapon against her during the fight.

She snugged her full breasts into the bikini top, centering the cups over her nipples, and then turned to the mirror to check her appearance, turning this way and that.  Fighting was more than just strength, skill and endurance.  There was a lot of psychology involved and looking like she owned the room was the first step in doing so.

Her self-appraisal started at the top of her head.  She lifted her arms, running her fingers through her hair, and tossed her head to shake her hair out.  The muscles of her arms and shoulders rippled beneath her tanned, velvet skin as she moved.  As she inhaled deeply, her chest swelled and her breasts strained against the flimsy restraint of her bikini top.  Like the bottoms, the top was full cut and cradled her breasts firmly, but it would tear free in response to a determined assault.

Below the bikini top, her belly was flat and rock-hard, a testament to the endless hours she had sweated in the gym both before and after she received the invitation to fight here tonight.  Her abs were clearly visible, gently curving beneath the shadow of her navel to dip beneath the covering of her bikini bottoms. 

She had gotten a professional wax job just that morning and the skin about the narrow triangle of fabric was smooth and unmarred.  The straps were thin and curved up high over her hips.  As she turned to one side, then the other, she paused to seat the back of the bottoms a little more evenly over her taut, rounded buttocks.  She rose up on her toes, noting the movement of the muscles in her thighs and calves, more evidence of those long, painful hours in the gym.

She smiled to herself.  She was ready.  She was apprehensive – the butterflies had not abated – but she was ready.  She went into her warm-up regimen.

When a knock finally came on the dressing room door, she was ready, a black silk robe covering her bikini, falling partway down her thighs and knotted at the waist with a silken sash.  She went to step out the door past Nikki, but the blonde stopped her with a shake of her head.  “No...that way.”

Jane looked over her shoulder.  She hadn’t paid any attention to the switches on the wall beside the mirror.  She had thought they were light switches or air conditioning controls.  Nikki stepped past her into the room, pressed the upper switch and the mirror slid sideways, revealing a dark space beyond. “In you go.”

Jane stepped forward and looked into the tiny space – it was barely three feet on a side and could hardly be called a room.  She had been briefed on how this would go.  She would enter the tiny chamber, then the door on the other side would open and admit her into the arena.  She would remove her robe and show herself to the crowd.  Then – only then – would her opponent appear.  With a sigh, she stepped forward.

“Good luck.” Nikki echoed the words she had heard many times this evening but added an ominous, “You’ll need it” as she closed the door behind Jane. 

Alone, in darkness, Jane stood and listened to the sound of her heart beating rapidly in her chest.  It seemed like an eternity, but it must have been no more than thirty seconds.  Then the panel in front of her slid away and she blinked, bathed in light.  It was brighter now in the center of the room, the arena designated for the fight, though the lights around the periphery had been dimmed, throwing the onlookers into half-darkness.

She took another step forward, out of the booth and into the room.  The crowd of party guests had now cleared away from the thick black rug that occupied the center of the floor, in the arc between the twin staircases.  Bounded by those staircases with their glass screens and by the mirrored wall below the bar, the arena was a broad oval perhaps thirty feet by twenty feet.  It was open toward the end of the room nearest the windows, where a row of long, low leather couches faced inward.  A number of partygoers had seated themselves there, with others at the couches and tables tiered on either side.  Still others stood behind or gathered at the bar to watch from above.

In the center of the middle couch sat Tiffany – the brunette one, the Society’s champion.  She was flanked on one side by Jade, the blonde she had kissed earlier, and on the other by another man with thinning hair and glasses, though he too was dressed stylishly and expensively.  Jane recognized him as the Society’s business manager, Andrew Scribbs.  He had met and briefed her, at an office in this same building the day before.

Completing her visual sweep of the room, she remembered what was expected of her, and took another step forward, onto the edge of the thick rug.  Her bare feet sank into the pile but there was further padding beneath, designed to cushion a fall.

Scribbs stood up.  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he called out in a clear voice, “your attention please.”  The conversations died away, though all eyes remained on Jane.  “Tonight we have two new fighters, vying for admission to the Society.” He nodded to Jane.  “First of all, welcome Jane.” There was a smattering of polite applause.  You’ll clap louder after I stomp your girl into the mat.

Jane’s hands went to her waist, unknotting the sash that secured her robe.  Slowly – this was a moment made for a little drama – she lifted her hands further, gradually parting the robe and letting it slide down her arms, revealing her bikini-clad but mostly bare body to the crowd.  She caught the robe in one hand and, without looking, tossed it away behind her, back into the booth before she advanced further into the arena.

She raised her arms, holding her head high as she turned a slow circle, letting them see her, letting them see who they had chosen.  She felt her nipples pressing against her bikini, already half erect in anticipation of the fight.  There were murmurs, nods of approval and whispered conversations as the guests exchanged comments and made assessments to one another.  There would be bets placed tonight – she had been told that – and judging by the visible wealth in the room, those bets would be for high stakes.  The smart money will be on me.

There were other kinds of appraising stares too – the fighters in the room were eyeing her with their own motives, wondering at their chances if they should one day face her here in this room.  She did not concern herself with them now though.  The only pair of eyes she cared about, here and now, were not yet sizing her up – but they soon would be.

Jane tilted her head slightly in acknowledgement.

“Against Jane tonight is another newcomer, who will fight Jane for a place in the Society.”  He paused, just as one of the mirrored panels on the far side slid back as Jane’s had done, and a woman stepped out.  “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Angie.”

Angie locked eyes with Jane as she took two steps into the room.  She had a heart-shaped face framed by long, straight brown hair.  She stopped and, like Jane, peeled off her robe and tossed it back into the booth behind her.  As she revealed herself to the crowd amid applause – somewhat more than Jane had received, she noted – Jane got her first good look at her imminent adversary.

Angie was taller, though just barely – Jane estimated the difference at no more than two inches.  She wore her hair loose and it tumbled in thick waves to the middle of her back.  That would be a target, something to get a good grip on, though she was only too aware that Angie would no doubt reciprocate with Jane’s own golden tresses.  As she turned her own circle for the crowd, she stretched her arms up behind her head and twirled on one foot, showing off the firm muscles that undulated beneath the silken skin of her arms and legs.

Angie was dressed – barely – in a black bikini studded with silver rhinestones.  Cut full like Jane’s own, the cups were divided by a thick black ring – plastic or metal.  Jane made a note of that.  It would not give way so easily as her own bikini, and it would give her a handle to hold and perhaps control the taller woman.  The sequins would be a problem though, so it might be a good idea to get that bikini off her sooner rather than later.  Jane could imagine what those sequins would feel like against her face if the bitch went for a headlock.

As Angie stretched again, her ample breasts – larger than Jane’s – rose up, brimming against the cups of her bikini top.  The sequins hid her nipples but Jane knew that she too would be excited for the conflict to come.  Below her bust, her torso was a hard, flat plane of muscle, easily the equal of Jane’s own, perhaps even more so.  It would certainly be no soft target.

Angie’s bikini bottoms were a broad triangle again studded with sequins.  The narrow black straps were knotted tightly over her hips.  Like Jane’s, they would pull loose easily but Jane decided those sequins might be useful to her.  They wouldn’t be pleasurable at all against her opponent’s skin as Jane ripped the garment off her.  No mercy, bitch.

The brunette’s hips swayed, long lithe legs rippling as she strode toward the center of the arena.  Jane rose to the challenge and met her in the middle.  They stood close, chests almost touching.  “So you’re the one I’m gonna walk over to get through the door here,” said Jane levelly.

“Looks like you’re about to get shown up and shut down...sweetie,” retorted Angie.  “Hope you didn’t pawn your bus ticket back to the sticks...you’re gonna need it.”

“We’ll see about that...sweetie.  The only thing I’ll be riding is your face.”

“Ladies...talk is cheap,” interrupted Scribbs from the edge of the arena.  “Let’s settle this in the time-honored manner.  Take your places at the edge of the mat, please.”

Jane stepped backward, keeping a steely glower fixed on Angie as she did so.  The taller woman did the same, returning her stare.

Scribbs looked at each of them in turn.  “All right ladies...you may fight.”

TO BE CONTINUED...

[TheScribbler]

Enough of this build-up story type thing...it's about time the actual fight started

Scrib

*****

As soon as he said ‘fight’ Jane leapt forward.  With a cry of gleeful anticipation, “Come and get it, bitch!” Angie did the same.  The two fighters hurled themselves at one another.  Jane ducked into a slight crouch, aiming her shoulder at the other woman’s midsection.  Those abs looked like a tough prospect but she knew she had the power in her legs for a solid charge that could knock the bigger girl down right at the outset.

She braced herself for the heavy impact of flesh on flesh as they came together but at the last instant Angie spun aside like a matador dancing with a bull.  Immediately off balance, Jane tried to halt her charge and dodge the other way but before she could do so, Angie had pirouetted behind her and thrust both hands into her hair.

“GGGUUUHHH!!!” Jane cried out in frustration and in pain as her head was savagely wrenched backward.  Her own momentum worked against and she lost her footing as she whipped over and crashed to the floor on her back with a force that momentarily stunned her.

Thankfully for her it was only momentary, since Angie wasted no time in following up on her attack.  She leapt forward with one foot raised and stomped her bare heel down hard at Jane’s navel.  Jane rolled desperately to her left and Angie’s foot, just brushing her right hip, slammed into the thick rug instead.

Damn she’s fast!  Jane was no slouch in that department either however.  She rolled back the other way as the taller woman stepped forward to recover her balance from her own missed attack, and lashed outward and upward with both feet.   “OOFFF!!!” Angie let out an explosive gasp as Jane’s heels drove into her midriff between her navel and her ribs, almost exactly the location she had targeted with her shoulder charge moments before.

Angie stumbled backward, holding her belly, giving Jane the time and space she needed to roll up to her knees and then to her feet.  Her scalp burned from the vicious hair pull and she was a little out of breath but not too much the worse for wear from her impact with the floor.  On the contrary, she felt like she’d gotten the best of the first clash.  “Looks like you’re the one who got it,” she taunted the other woman.

“Oh I’m just getting started with you.”  Angie’s hands dropped to her sides.  Her eyes narrowed and she sank into a fighter’s crouch once more.

“Good...cuz I’m gonna end it for you!” Jane charged again.  Keep attacking.  Keep the pressure up.  Wear her down.  Don’t give her time to recover  This time she aimed higher, mixing up her attacks so as not to let Angie anticipate her. 

Instead of going for a shoulder charge this time, she sent her right fist arcing outward at her opponent’s left breast.  Angie’s left arm whipped up and she caught the punch on her forearm, knocking Jane’s arm up and away.  Almost in the same motion, the taller woman ducked and spun, hooked Jane’s extended right arm with her own and thrust herself upright again.  With a loud shriek of surprise, Jane slammed into Angie’s back, then immediately found herself off her feet and flying through the air.

She twisted herself and took the landing on her shoulder.  The thick mat took some of the impact and her rapid roll absorbed most of the rest.  She wound up on her belly and immediately pulled her arms underneath her to push herself up again.

A foot slammed into the small of her back.  “UNNNGGGHHH!!!” Fuck! Angie’s hand seized her by her hair once more, yanking her head back and arching her spine painfully.  Instinctively she threw one hand up, grabbing at her opponent’s wrist to ease the strain on her scalp while bracing her body with the other.

“Let’s hear you scream, wannabe!” crowed Angie as she shook Jane’s head violently from side to side like a dog worrying a bone.  Tears welled up in Jane’s eyes at the renewed torment of her scalp and neck.  Her back ached abominably as her adversary stretched her back like a bow.  Angie’s frightening speed had caught her in a bad position, and now she was suffering for it.  She had to do something quickly or she was going to get hurt.

She felt Angie’s foot against the inside of her left knee as the bigger girl balanced on it while she ground her other foot into the base of Jane’s spine.  Hardly taking time to think, she twisted herself to the left with lightning speed, bringing her knees together and catching Angie’s leg between them.  Angie’s squeal of surprise joined Jane’s cries of pain and, unable to keep her balance with her other foot planted in Jane’s back, the brunette toppled over sideways.

Jane kept rolling as Angie crashed face-first to the floor.  Coming over into a sitting position, she still had Angie’s left leg trapped between hers, the bigger girl’s foot bent awkwardly upward and almost touching her butt.  Angie’s other leg was half across Jane’s thighs and though she had managed to get her arms up to brace her fall, her entangled legs meant she was unable to free herself.

“Payback time, bitch!” Jane reached across her body with her left arm, twisted a thick handful of hair around her wrist and wrenched Angie’s head back with all her might.  Angie screamed aloud.  Suffer, bitch! You did the same to me a moment ago.  She leaned back hard, arching Angie’s Jade’s spine.  She hooked her fingers through the back of the brunette’s bikini top and used that for extra leverage, jerking hard on it and eliciting another scream from her opponent.

Angie kicked wildly with her free leg but while her knee pounded Jane’s thigh, she could not find the range of motion to land a solid blow.  Jane hauled harder, dragging on the bigger girl’s top and hair, working her scalp and neck, putting even more pressure on her opponent’s spine.  “Let’s hear you scream, skank!”

She gave an even harder jerk and, with a sudden loud snap, Angie’s top gave way, breaking the ring between the cups.  Jane reeled backward with the top and more than a few strands of hair in her hands, rolling halfway onto her left side.  That eased the strain on Angie’s trapped leg and on her back too, and she was able to roll away, pulling her right leg up and then driving her foot forcefully into Jane’s side directly over her right kidney.

It was Jane’s turn to scream as stabbing pain erupted all the way up her side.  The blow flipped her over onto her belly, straightening Angie’s leg out and allowing the other woman to kick free.  Jane gritted her teeth against the pain – she couldn’t afford the time to recover – and pushed up onto all fours, knowing she had only moments before her adversary came after her again.

She flipped her hair, now damp with sweat, out of her eyes and glared across the space between them in anticipation of Angie’s next attack.  The brunette was also on all fours, facing her.  There was pain in her fierce gaze, but also dogged determination.  Jane realized the other woman had just as much at stake as Jane did.  Jane narrowed her eyes.  Show her up or not, she was equally determined to win this fight.  She’d make the bitch scream her submission.

Angie gathered her legs beneath her, ready to spring.  Jane did the same.  The larger girl’s leg must still have been troubling her because Jane beat her to it and launched herself first.  Her opponent was only an instant behind her however.  Both still rising from their knees, they lacked the maneuverability for feints or finesse, and they slammed together with a force that stopped both of them in their tracks.  Body to body, flesh sliding over sweat-slicked flesh, they strained against one another.  Jane felt her opponent’s bare breasts flattened against her own.  She could feel the other woman’s hard nipples scraping her flesh.  Thank God she had gotten the bitch’s top off – those rhinestones would have done a number on her boobs, even with her own top still in place.

“Going down...little girl,” grunted Angie, her breath hot on Jane’s cheek as she spoke.  Her fingers scrabbled down Jane’s back, searching for a grip on her slippery flesh.

“Dream on, bitch!” Jane leaned in harder, grunting with the effort as she tried to force her opponent back.  Under normal circumstances Angie’s height might have given her an advantage in a test of strength such as this, letting her get up over Jane and giving her leverage, but the two combatants were barely off their knees, angled forward against one another, and that advantage was negated.  Jane let out a long groan of exertion as she strained to make progress.  Her opponent was like a rock but she was unable to make any headway against Jane either.

Suddenly Angie swayed sideways and before Jane could pull back she lurched forward, unbalanced, stumbling past the taller woman.  Displaying the same agility she had shown earlier, Angie pivoted on her right foot and spun in behind Jane.  Her right arm hooked up under Jane’s own, curling behind the smaller woman’s neck, and her left also snaked beneath Jane’s left arm.

Jane desperately spun to her right too, trying to keep her adversary from completing the hold and pulling her into a Full Nelson.  Angie’s hooked fingers caught the edge of her bikini top over her left breast, wrenching it aside.  Jane’s breast bounced free and she yelped out loud as the other woman’s nails scratched across her flesh.  She squirmed and thrashed trying to tear herself free but Angie held her tight despite the incomplete hold.  “No you don’t bitch,” she snarled close in Jane’s ear as she dragged her to her feet.  “You’re all mine!”

The brunette yanked Jane backwards to unbalance her once more, then slammed her body into Jane’s from behind, barreling her forward, across the rug toward the tall glass panels that screened the tables flanking the arena.  Jane tried to twist herself aside but it was all she could do to remain on her feet and she crashed into the unyielding glass with jarring force.  Her loud “NNNGGGHHH!!!” turned into a breathless gasp as Angie slammed into her from behind an instant later, driving the air out of her lungs.

Though she had managed to turn her head aside at the last moment to protect her nose, she now found her cheek crushed against the thick glass screen, held in place by Angie’s weight against her back and the brunette’s hands holding her by her neck and by the back of her bikini top.   “Let’s go for a walk, bitch!” hissed Angie as she dragged Jane along the glass wall.  The panels were set perhaps an inch apart and Jane groaned aloud each time the edges grazed her bare, hardened nipple.  “Let’s show them all what a loser looks like!”

Through tears of pain and rage, Jane saw the onlookers watching her from the couches behind the screens.  She found herself face to face with the short Latin woman she had met earlier.  What was her name – Lucy?  She was sitting beside her husband – Vic – and smiling at Jane’s predicament.  Vic’s eyes were on Jane’s bared breast.  His eyes were alight and Jane noticed that his wife’s hand rested lightly on his crotch.

Jane pushed the image out of her mind.  She had more important things to do.  The bitch had her in a bad place and she needed to turn the tables before it was too late.  She redoubled her efforts to tear herself out of Angie’s grasp but, crushed between her opponent and the glass, she had little room to maneuver.

Angie was not going to give her any chance to escape, either.  She yanked Jane backwards off the wall, then slammed her back into it once more.  Jane managed to twist her head and body a little and partially absorb the impact, but it still knocked most of the remaining breath out of her.  Angie began to haul her back the other way along the wall, crushing her breasts into the glass, again dragging her throbbing nipple across the gaps between the panels.

The taller girl wrenched her off the wall again but this time she jerked hard enough that the knot securing Jane’s bikini top finally let go.  Angie’s assault tore it free of Jane’s body and her opponent stumbled backwards with the momentum.  She seized Jane by the back of the head to regain her hold, snaring her fingers into Jane’s hair and dragging Jane back along with her, but the momentary freedom was all Jane needed.  As Angie began to thrust her forward against the wall once more, she finally had enough space to get her foot up, bracing herself against the glass and abruptly halting Angie’s lunge.

The brunette gave a loud “UNNGGGHHH!” as she crashed into Jane’s back and bounced off, staggering backwards.  Her grip slackened, Jane twisted herself to her right and tore free.  Whirling on Angie, she slammed both her open palms up into her adversary’s bare breasts.  Already off balance, Angie tripped over her own feet and went down hard. 

It did not go all Jane’s way however.  The other woman still had one hand twisted in Jane’s hair and she dragged Jane down with her, both of them cursing.  Only when they hit the floor in a tangle of arms and legs did the impact knock Angie’s hand free, taking a handful of hair along with it, accompanied by a shriek of anguish from Jane.

Jane twisted her body in the air even as she was falling, knowing she had to land on her knees, facing her adversary.  Despite the ache in her chest, despite the pain in her abused scalp, she knew she couldn’t afford the time to retreat, regroup and recover that she so sorely wanted.  She had the skank down, even if she was down too.  She had to regain the initiative, take the fight to Angie and wear the bitch down – wear her out.

She threw herself at her opponent.  Angie was still on her back, but she kicked out with both feet to forestall Jane’s attack and succeeded at least in slowing her down.  Jane rocked back on her knees, battling her way forward through a barrage of thrashing feet and knees as Angie simultaneously tried to crab-walk backwards, to give herself time and space so she too could rise to her knees and maybe to her feet. Jane’s position gave her an advantage in speed and agility however and despite her opponent’s fierce defense, she could advance faster than Angie could retreat.  Nowhere to run, skank! She batted aside a flailing foot and lunged upward between Angie’s knees, grasping at her bouncing breasts.  “Come to Mama, bitch!”

In her eagerness to press her attack however, she had neglected to notice Angie’s legs – until she suddenly felt the pressure of the other woman’s thighs either side of her neck, and heard Angie’s cry of malicious glee, “Gotcha!” as she locked her ankles behind Jane’s back and trapped her a head scissors.

Jane immediately felt the crushing force of her opponent’s strong thighs.  Reflexively she broke off her attack and her hands flew to her neck, trying to pry Angie’s legs loose before she could apply even more pressure.  It was already beginning to hurt.  She cursed inwardly.  She had been close to taking control of the fight but she had gotten careless – gotten stupid – and now she was on the defensive again, in another bad position.  She had been lucky to escape Angie’s traps so far, but she knew her luck wouldn’t hold out forever.

Angie whipped her upper body forward, up off the floor.  She grabbed Jane by the hair with both hands, jerking her forward until her face was tight against the brunette’s crotch.  The rhinestones ground uncomfortably against Jane’s mouth and nose and each breath filled her senses with the scent of the other woman’s sweat and, yes, lust.  Angie was turned on by this fight.  That was no surprise.  So was Jane, if she was honest with herself.  “Get used to it, bitch,” Angie mocked her.  “You’re gonna be spending plenty of time down there after you surrender.”

Clenching her jaw tight, trying to force the muscles of her neck to resist the relentless pressure of Angie’s thighs, Jane looked up the other woman’s body, past the hard abs sheened with sweat, between the heaving breasts with their hard, dark peaks, past the mocking smile and the taunting eyes.  Behind Angie, across the arena, she saw the eyes of the audience.  Some were looking concerned – obviously the ones who had bet on her to win.  Others, no doubt those in Angie’s corner, were smiling to themselves and whispering.  One of those, on the couch off to Jane’s right, was Tiffany, the brunette, the Society’s champion.  Jane felt her anger grow.  That was her goal – to challenge that one and take her place.  That was where Jane wanted to be – in the champion’s seat – and the only way there was over and through this bitch.

She let out a low, somewhat strangled growl of anger mixed with grim resolve.  Abandoning her attempt to pry Angie loose, she changed her tactics.  More than one way to skin a cat.  She wrapped both arms around Angie’s midriff, gripping her opponent – her enemy – either side of her waist as she drew one leg under her, ready to rise.

Angie’s smile faltered as she understood what Jane was doing.  Then it broadened again.  “Oh you really think?” she snarled scornfully.  “Not in a million years, slut!” The grip of her legs tightened and, leaning back, dragging Jane’s head painfully forward, she used her shoulders as a fulcrum to fling herself savagely to the right, throwing Jane off balance and sending her crashing to the floor on her side.

Panic welled up in Jane.  She could feel the frantic pounding of her pulse in her tortured neck.  Her head was beginning to pound too as Angie slowly, relentlessly constricted the air and blood supply to her brain.  She was running out of time.

Head on the floor, she drew her knees under her once more.  Angie thrashed back and forth, doing her best to unbalance her.  The pain in her neck was appalling.  She ground her teeth in anguish as tears streamed down her cheeks.  Her muscles burned as she pushed her body upward by sheer force of will.  Her mouth gaped open, gasping for air. 

She reached her knees.  She heard Angie groan aloud as she poured every ounce of strength into the crushing scissor hold.  With a supreme effort, Jane pushed up onto one knee.  There she paused, trying to ignore the dark spots that danced before her eyes.  She could do it.  She had to do it.  Otherwise, everything was for nothing.

She closed her eyes, gathered the last of her waning strength and, with a breathless moan, rose slowly, agonizingly to her feet.  She barely heard the onlookers gasp in surprise.  She paid no heed to the ripple of applause that passed around the room.  She was intent on one thing only.

Angie’s entire weight hung from Jane’s neck, her body inverted, her hair sweeping the floor as, screaming in frustration, anger – and apprehension too now – she gyrated wildly to tear herself free from Jane’s grip.  Jane clenched her teeth even harder, bracing her feet wide apart.  She changed her grip on her opponent’s body slightly, spreading her fingers wider, digging her claws into Angie’s hard abs, grasping, twisting.  She heard the other woman groan.

Her legs felt like lead.  Her head swam.  She knew she couldn’t keep this up for long – but she also knew she didn’t need to.  She was only a few steps from the glass wall.  She twisted left, trying in vain to ignore the pain it cost her, and half charged, half fell into the wall, crushing her enemy between her body and the glass with a force that made the thick panels shudder.

Angie’s piercing cry of torment mingled with Jane’s own.  The pressure on her neck eased, but only for a moment, then increased again.  She staggered, let go of Angie’s belly with one hand and braced herself against the glass.  Her legs began to buckle.  She no longer had the strength to do this.  She had failed.

No!  She clenched her fist, gouging her claws deeper into Angie’s flesh.  She heard her enemy’s long, tortured growl and drew strength from it, strength she never thought she had.  She pushed herself off the wall and backed away a step, still holding Angie inverted.  The other woman’s hands scrabbled desperately at her ankles, trying to grab her, trying to trip her, trying to bring her down.

She kicked her feet loose and drove herself – and her opponent – against the wall again.  “GGGUUUHHH!!!” She didn’t hold back, crashing into the glass with all the force she could still muster, knowing that however much it hurt her, it would hurt Angie even more.

Angie’s grip on her neck faltered again, and remained so this time, but still she did not let go.  Jane would have sobbed if she had enough breath.  Her pulse was like a jackhammer in her head.  She felt dizzy, nauseous.  Her legs went weak again, and this time she could not find the strength to recover.  With a groan of despair, she collapsed heavily to her knees, then fell over on her side.

It took a long time for it to register in her pain-addled mind, that the pressure on her neck was gone.  When it did, she felt a new flood of anguish.  Angie wasn’t going to choke her out.  She was saving the moment, going for the dramatic submission, wanting to make Jane beg for mercy in front of the entire assembled Society.  Any second she expected to feel fingers thrust into her hair, a foot in the small of her bag, hands grabbing and twisting her tits.

None of that happened.  When she opened her eyes, she saw Angie’s prone body, stretched out on the floor, parallel to her, head to toe about a foot away.  Only then did Jane realize what had happened.  When she had fallen, Angie had fallen with her, and driven her head hard into the floor.  The thick rug would have absorbed some, but nowhere near all of the impact.  Jane could have wept with relief.

That relief gave her new strength – though not much.  Angie was laying half on her belly, half on her right side, facing away from Jane.  She pushed herself ponderously up onto one elbow, forcing her exhausted, leaden limbs to obey her.  As Jane laid a hand on her hip to drag her over onto her back, to mount her and pin her, to slap her back to her senses and drag a submission out of her, the brunette stirred. She lifted an arm and lashed out weakly behind her, knocking Jane’s hand away.  Jane reached for her again as the other woman slowly rolled further onto her belly and pushed up onto her elbows. 

Angie shoved herself forward awkwardly with one knee, trying to distance herself, but Jane hooked her fingers into the back of her opponent’s bikini bottoms and held her back.  Angie kicked out, slowly and weakly, but still it was all Jane could do to duck and avoid the blindly aimed blow.  She kept her grip on her enemy’s bikini however and as Angie thrust herself away again, dragged it partway down her butt, exposing the crack of her ass.  She yanked harder – at least the bitch won’t be able to rub my face in those fucking rhinestones – and with help from her opponent’s frantic squirming to free herself, pulled it down past the other girl’s knees.  Angie’s last effort flung her away from Jane, leaving the blonde with a crumpled scrap of fabric in her fingers.

Sprawled on her belly a yard away, Angie was naked now, but stripping her opponent didn’t win the fight.  Jane paused to gather her wits and whatever was left of her strength.  Her neck throbbed, her head pounded and her breath rasped in her throat.  At least she could breathe now, but she needed time to recover – time she didn’t have. 

Even as she watched, Angie rolled over and clambered to her knees.  She glared venomously at Jane through the matted curtain of her sweat-soaked hair.  “I’m going to teach you a lesson you’ll never forget, slut,” she snarled.  “You’re gonna have nightmares about me.”  She rose up on her knees, her arms outstretched, grasping.

Jane had no choice but to respond.  Win or lose – and she knew she was too exhausted, too beaten and broken to win – she met Angie’s lunge.  Their hands locked but neither had the strength left in her arms to hold the other off, and they crashed together with a loud smack that echoed around the arena.  Fingers scrabbled and clutched for purchase on oiled, glistening, sweating skin.  Hair was pulled, breasts were grabbed and kneaded, nails raked each other’s backs and buttocks.  Grunts and groans – of exertion and exhaustion, of pain, frustration and mounting despair, punctuated each attack.  It was now only a matter of who would make a mistake – not if, but when.

Angie stretched forward, leaned left and her fingers hooked in the strap of Jane’s bikini bottoms, at the corner of the triangle over her right buttock.  Through the fog of her fatigue, Jane saw her opening.  She too leaned left – her left, the other way – and with a cry of surprised anguish, Angie overbalanced.  Her bare breasts slid across Jane’s, nipples scraping across nipples and sending a shiver up Jane’s spine.  She leaned further, twisted and shoved, and the brunette’s cry grew in pitch and volume as she pitched forward and fell to the floor.

Jane knew she couldn’t leave it there.  She was close – so close.  She let her momentum carry her forward too, twisting herself and ramming her knee into the pit of Angie’s stomach.  A gurgling growl of pain told her the blow had hit home, and hard.

Even so, Angie rolled away in the opposite direction, though she held one hand to her belly.  Jane lunged after her, smelling – incredibly – victory.  She hooked her right arm under the other woman’s chin.  Angie’s long legs were crossed left over right and Jane reached out and grasped the brunette’s right ankle, trapping both her legs, heaving hard.  She jabbed her knee into Angie’s back just above her butt, hauling on her neck and ankle, arching her enemy’s spine.  “Give it up, skank! It’s over!” She was startled at the desperation in her own voice.

“Go...fuck...yourself...” Angie’s words were punctuated with pain.

“DO IT!” Jane hauled even harder, at the limit of her depleted strength.  For Chrissakes, let her submit!

Angie groaned – louder – then at last, to Jane’s infinite relief, she croaked, “Okay...okay!  Stop!  I give up!”

Jane relaxed the pressure, but only a little.  “Louder...let ‘em all hear you, bitch!”

Angie hesitated – but only for a moment.  “I...” she groaned, long and loud, “I give up!  You win!   YOU WIN!  BITCH!” She pounded her fist on the mat.

TO BE CONTINUED...

[Dirty bad bitch]

Phew! What an intense battle ... love the way you describe the emotions as well as the thoughts of the girls ... splendid job! 

Mmmm, now where does a bad girl like me sign up for these hot Society fights?  LOL! 

mwuahs
Sonja

[TheScribbler]

Here's the final 'aftermath' installment of the story.

Thanks to all who donated themselves as characters.  As you can see, we've established some potential alliances and rivalries for the future.  We already have a few new stories in the works and some ideas for more with various people.  Watch this space...

Thanks also to those folks who've commented and who've bothered to read.

I'll also be reposting the old stories that derived from the poll fights, at intervals, until we're all caught up.

Cheers,

Scrib

*****

It was all Jane could do to lift one knee and, pushing on it with both hands, lever herself to her feet.  She stood there swaying slightly, bare breasts rising and falling with each ragged breath.  She caught side of herself in the mirrored wall below the bar.  Her hair was a matted mess, dripping with sweat and plastered across the glistening skin of her face, neck and shoulders.  She could see the exhaustion in her own eyes.  Her heaving breasts were blotched red and the left one bore the livid marks of Angie’s nails.  Her bikini bottoms were hanging off her, the knot over her left hip undone, her mound half exposed.  She had not even noticed until now.

She tilted her head downward and gazed at Angie, who still lay sprawled on her side at Jane’s feet, one arm thrown out to her left, the other twisted beneath her.  The brunette’s hair was strewn across the rug around her head.  Her shoulders shook as she gasped for air.  Is that a sob?  God I hope so!  The smooth skin of Angie’s right butt cheek was marred with four parallel welts where Jane had clawed the bikini bottoms off her.  Jane reached out her foot, praying she wouldn’t fall now, and shoved her vanquished opponent over onto her back.  Angie’s breasts flopped limply across her splayed arms.  Her head lolled to the side, her face half hidden by her tangled hair.

“Don’t just lay there, bitch,” Jane taunted her, as she remembered what she had been told the day before about the end of the fight.  “Time for you to give me my prize.” There was a tradition in the Society, Scribbs had informed her, that the winner took the loser’s bikini as a trophy.  More than that, the loser was required to present it to her, on her knees.

The brunette’s rhinestone encrusted bikini bottoms lay just a few feet away on the rug, but the top was several yards away, toward the center of the arena.  Jane poked her toe into Angie’s left breast.  “Go fetch, skank...crawl.”

Angie did not move, though she moaned and her shoulders shook.  Not until Jane ordered her more forcefully, “Go on! Do as you’re told!” did she roll over slowly and painfully, coming up onto all fours.  Her head low, her face still screened by the curtain of her hair, she began to crawl ponderously toward her crumpled top. 

When she reached it, she stopped and extended an arm, but then started as Jane barked, “NO!  In your teeth!  You know how this works!”  She had no doubt the bitch had been given the same briefing as her, and she wasn’t about to be robbed of a single piece of her victory.

Angie dipped her head, pressing her face against the floor, and took the top in her mouth as she was ordered.  Her shoulders shook visibly as she raised her head again, turning in place and making her way even more slowly back toward where her bottoms sat closer to Jane.  There she paused again, and it took her two tries before she managed to gather both halves of the glittering bikini in her mouth and return to where Jane stood, her head high.  The sight of the beaten brunette, crawling to her, lent Jane new strength – literally, the thrill of victory. 

She stuck out her hand.  “Give!”  Angie obediently, though slowly, rose up on her knees, stretching her neck out until she could place the scraps of fabric into Jane’s fingers.

Jane held it up, extending her arm high over her head in triumph.  The rhinestones glittered in the bright lights of the arena.  That wasn’t the glittering prize that Jane desired right now however.  She had also been briefed about another Society tradition.  “You know that’s not all though, bitch!” she said loudly – loudly enough for the entire room to hear, playing to the audience.  She took Angie’s chin in her hand, tilted the brunette’s face up toward her own and said in a quieter voice, “You know what comes next.”  The look in her opponent’s tearful eyes told Jane that she did.

With a quick thrust of her hand in Angie’s face, Jane shoved the brunette backward.  Angie went over on her back and lay there, unmoving with her arms flung wide and her legs parted, her clean-shaven, swollen pussy lips on show for all to see.  She did not try to cover herself, but stared up at Jane with fearful anticipation.

Jane stood over her for the count of ten, relishing the moment.  It could so easily have been her laying there.  It almost had been her – but it wasn’t.  She was the one on her feet, standing in victory over her defeated foe – painful, exhausted victory but victory nonetheless.

She stepped forward, astride Angie’s supine form.  Slowly she slid her hand down her flat belly, past her navel, prolonging the moment for her own amusement and that of the audience, not to mention Angie’s anguish.  It took no effort at all to ease her bikini bottoms aside, baring her sex.  She enjoyed the look in Angie’s eyes as the brunette’s gaze was drawn irresistibly to her crotch.

Jane dropped to her knees, and Angie let out a grunt of pain as the blonde’s legs pinned her arms to the floor, fixing her in place.  Jane stared down, between her breasts, into the other woman’s eyes.  “You’re good,” she conceded, “but I’m better.  Now gimme what you owe me.”  She lowered herself onto Angie’s face.

She felt as much as heard the brunette gasp, her breath warm against Jane’s fevered nether lips.  Jane hadn’t realized until now how turned on she was.  In spite of the ache in every muscle and the numbing fatigue, she was soaking wet.  The savagery of combat, the agony of near-defeat and the elation of triumph all combined in a carnal desire that made her tremble now with need.  “Eat me, bitch!” she growled.

Obediently Angie’s tongue flicked out to tease Jane’s lips.  Jane moaned aloud at the first fleeting contact, then shuddered as the brunette’s tongue wriggled deeper, parting her lips, licking the length of her until at last it found the throbbing nub of her clit.  She tossed her head back, clutching at her own breasts, pinching her nipples as a long, low “MMMMMMMMM!!!” escaped her dry, parted lips.

To give the beaten brunette her due, she did not shirk her duty, lapping at Jane ever more energetically.  “Feels like you’ve done this before, bitch!” cried Jane, to laughter from the audience, as the delicious sensations in her loins began to mount and spread outward, sending tremors coursing through her.  She bit her lip, moaned even louder, and gave in to her need, rocking her hips, grinding herself on Angie’s nose and chin, gasping, panting and moaning.

She wanted to savor these sensations, the reward for all the exertion, all the suffering she had endured, wanted to prolong it, to make it last, but her body had its own urgent demands.  Her arousal would not be denied or even delayed.  She felt the first spasm of her climax begin, deep inside her.  Her loins clenched and her legs clamped tighter together either side of Angie’s head.  “NNNGGGUUUUHHH!!!” 

There was no fighting it.  The spasms surged outward to grip every fibre of her.  Her head arched back and she screamed her pleasure to the roof, then her body whipped forward again hunching over the brunette who continued to lick her diligently.  She shuddered, her hips bucked explosively atop Angie, she went completely rigid for a moment before suddenly shaking like a leaf as a tumultuous orgasm swept through her like a summer storm.  “Oh...oh...OHHHH GOD YESSSSSS!!!”  She gave herself up to the maelstrom.

It seemed to go on forever.  She had no idea how long it actually was, before awareness returned, albeit dimly.  Her head pounded again, though for entirely different reasons now.  Her limbs trembled and her muscles twitched – inside and out – with aftershocks.  She was panting, shoulders shaking as she fought to regain her breath.  The cheers of the audience were muted by the roaring of her own blood in her ears.

At last she found the strength – barely – to lift herself off Angie and rise to her feet.  She stared down at her fallen former foe.  Angie’s eyes were bleary, red-rimmed and filled with tears.  Her face was flushed dark, glistening with Jane’s juices, and her chest shuddered as she took rapid, sobbing breaths.

“Well,” gasped Jane, still breathless herself, “I guess that’s all for you, bitch!”  She pointed toward the door – hidden now, just another mirrored panel – through which Angie had entered.  “This is my place, not yours now.  GO!

After a long moment, Angie obeyed.  She rolled over onto her belly, her arms inched inward beneath her body and she levered herself up onto all fours with agonizing slowness.  Her hair brushed the floor as, head drooping between her shoulders, she began to crawl away across the arena.

Someone started a slow handclap, in time with each laborious pace she took.  Others in the audience quickly took it up, until the clapping became a shameful cadence to her painful progress.  As at last she neared the far wall, the panel opened, a dark maw ready to swallow the beaten brunette and her dreams of victory.  Angie suppressed a shudder.  That was almost me.

The door slid shut behind Angie, and the slow handclap immediately erupted into thunderous cheers and applause.  Angie stood, drinking in their accolades, for a brief moment until, like a bubble bursting or a string being cut, all the adrenalin left her in an instant and she collapsed to her knees, unable to move or even to think.

Still they cheered her.  She wanted to get up, to smile and bow and bask in their tribute, but her legs simply refused to obey her.  After a long time – how long she didn’t know – someone approached and bent over beside her.  “C’mon sugar.”  It was the tall blonde, Tiffany.  She slipped an arm under Jane’s own and helped her to her feet.  “Let’s get you into a hot bath.”  She half-led, half-carried Jane from the arena.

*****

An hour later, Jane sat reclining on a comfortable couch in a corner of the room, nearest the windows, gazing out at the Statue of Liberty.  She was dressed again, with aloe applied to the scratches on her skin.  Her aches were soothed by a couple of painkillers and a stiff shot of Bourbon.  A second drink lay half-emptied on the glass coffee table in front of her.  She was not feeling too bad, all things considered, though she knew it wouldn’t last.  Tomorrow she’d be lucky if she could get out of bed.

 Tiffany sat across the table from her.  “What’ll happen to her?” asked Jane.

“The other girl? Angie?  She’ll go back home where she belongs.”

“Will she be back?  Will she get another chance?”

Tiffany shrugged.  “Maybe.  If she’s lucky...and if she’s good.  She’ll have to earn it all over again.”

Jane gazed down at the lacquered wooden box that sat beside her glass on the table.  Inside, laundered and neatly folded, was the bikini she had taken from Angie – the trophy to mark her victory.  She leaned forward and opened the box again to look at it. 

Perhaps even more important – or was it less important.  She wondered – was a check with a surprising number of zeroes after the number.  She had almost choked when she’d first read the amount.  It represented a year’s earnings for her, back home.  She picked it up now, read it again, just to be sure she hadn’t been mistaken the first time.

“Welcome to the big time, sugar.”

THE END

[Dirty bad bitch]

Ooh, very sexy & erotic aftermath! 

[lulufights]

Great start to the series, Scribbler.  I can't wait to see what's next.

[Gabi_Mar]

Spectacular!!!

Wonderful!!!

Love to see the reboot getting going with new stories.  Can't wait for the next one.

[Vanessa Marsh]

Well Ms. Marsh...this dog bites.

Mona

And dogs that bite, tend to get destroyed. Regardless of how small, or ineffectual they may be.

[BustyTiffany35]

Oh Eva, sugar, I'll cross y'all as much as I like! Y'all are gonna get your asses whipped and humiliated once I get my hands on ya both! 

And a fantastic start to the series, Scribbler! Cannot wait to read more

[Serena77]

Oh yeeeeessssss! Society's back! And a lot of "interesting" new women are there!
Go on with the excellent job, Scribbler and Tiffany!

Vanessa is a nice addition and I hope to see some of the "former" stars too, especially Michelle, Serena, Lyanna, Valeria................

Thanks for the mention, Freddy! But I retired, so you will not see me into the arena as a fighter.
Anyway I will be there beside you to attend to the next fight, if you like!

Amazing restart for the Society! Scribb knows how to do it! I like the new "formula" (without "dramas" and votes messing)! Go on this way!

[Nattie-Silk Property]

I watch the new girl being surrounded by all her well wishers, Tiffany and her girlfriend chief among them. "Look at all those bitches, trying to suck up to the new meat. I beat these cheap sluts can't wait to get her into bed." I roll my eyes, and head for the bar. Scowling, I think to myself "You're going to need all the friends you can get, Tiff. But it won't be enough. Sooner or later, I'll get you alone, and take the Society championship, and your dignity too! And if any of these other girls get in my way, well...I've got plenty of room in my harem for more!"