Here is the latest installment in the rebooted Society story series.
My thanks to Lulu Fights who lent herself to be the main character here. Lulu, thanks for your support and your contributions to the storyline. The ‘Melissa’ character is fictional, so any resemblance to any members named Melissa is purely coincidental.
There are also a few cameos from other members who have appeared in earlier stories and from one new one who will feature in an upcoming episode
Thanks to all involved, and I hope you enjoy the story.
Scrib
*****
Melissa Marcus felt the quickness of her pulse as she stood holding the balcony railing, looking out over the broad expanse of the two-storey room and the milling guests at the cocktail party. The far wall was made entirely of glass and offered a breathtaking view of New York Harbor and the Statue of Liberty, lit up now after dark.
She didn’t know quite what to call this place – a club, a reception or something else. It certainly wasn’t anything like the clubs she knew – the ones where she had waitressed, the ones where she had stripped and certainly not the ones where she had fought. There were no battered tables scarred by stiletto heels from table dances. There was no dingy décor that had long since seen better days. Here there was white carpet, polished chrome and gleaming glass. It was more like a high end – top end – restaurant, but she knew it wasn’t. This was the pinnacle of the underground catfight culture. This was the Society.
Melissa felt a deep sense of pride at even being in this room. She wasn’t here to fight – not yet, not tonight – but she had been invited as a guest. She hoped this was the precursor to being given the opportunity to prove herself worthy of membership. That, she knew, meant fighting and beating one of the members. She also knew how difficult that would be, since the Society’s fighters were the best of the best, but she prayed she would get the chance.
She cast her eyes across the women in the room. They ranged from girls in their early twenties to women who looked to be in their sixties. All elegantly and expensively dressed, they differed in height and build, in hair color and skin tone. One thing they all had in common however, was that they obviously kept themselves in fine physical shape. There were no flabby arms, no drooping bellies, no overstuffed asses. Not all were fighters but even those who were not, respected physical prowess and worked hard on their own. There was a rumor that any woman at one of these parties could challenge another to a fight, so everyone was at risk of having to defend herself. Melissa didn’t know if that was true. It was only one of many rumors about the Society.
The men were just as elegantly dressed as the women. This was a place for the rich and powerful. Some were celebrities, their faces familiar from film, television or Internet gossip sites. Others were unknown to her, but she doubted there was anyone in the room with a net worth less than the millions.
Anyone, that was, except Melissa. There had been a time, years ago, when she would have been welcomed warmly into any such gathering, but that was
before. That was when she had been the cossetted wife of a wealthy man, before she had lost everything – or to put it more accurately, before everything had been taken from her.
The divorce settlement had been fair enough. Her lawyer had made sure of that. She had moved out of New York as fast as she could after the papers were signed. There were two many bad memories, too many condescendingly sympathetic looks from her ‘friends’ after all that had happened, especially from those who had been there on the horrible night when that bitch had disgraced her and begun her fall from grace.
She had moved to Florida. The house in Palm Beach had had been part of her settlement and she had considered moving there, but then she would have been moving in the same circles, getting the same pitying furtive glances and sly smiles. The sale of the house had given her more than enough cash to buy a place in Tampa with enough left over to maintain it and keep herself. Life had been physically comfortable, if emotionally fraught.
That had all changed abruptly, a few months later. The real estate developer had come highly recommended. Several people she knew had invested profitably in his projects. It had seemed like a sure thing at the time, but within months the bottom fell out of the stock market and the real estate market fell with it. The condo community the developer built stood vacant, and the company folded. Her other investments lost most of their value too, and she found herself unable to support herself.
Forced to sell her own condo at a fraction of its worth, she had moved into a small apartment and begun to look for work. For a thirty-something divorcee whose main skills were arranging parties and charity work however, there were few opportunities. She had finally found a job waitressing at a euphemistically named ‘Gentleman’s Club’ where the patrons were certainly no gentlemen, though they did tip well.
She began to spend a lot of time at the gym during those awful months. Not only did it help to work off some of her anger at the injustice of her fate, but it also gave her a new sense of security. All this had happened to her because of one thing, the entire train set in motion that night in the Hamptons, when that bitch had hit on her husband and then attacked her, humiliated her in front of her friends and, eventually, stolen her husband and her life from her. She swore to herself that would never happen in the future. She would never, ever be a victim again.
One night she had gone straight from the gym to work, taking her work clothes – black pants, white blouse, bow tie – with her and changing in the same locker room the dancers used. She still remembered the surprised exclamation from one of them. “Damn, girl! With that rack, why the fuck are you wasting your time waiting tables? Get up on stage!”
So Melissa did. Her well toned body and her prodigious breasts – 42DDD thanks to her then-husband’s money and the best plastic surgeon in the country – had proved to be popular among the clients and she had quadrupled her earnings overnight. She had always been slightly embarrassed by her bosom. She had only agreed to the enhancement at her husband’s urging. He had been a breast man and she finally given in to his continual coaxing. At that moment though, the decision – the surrender, as it had seemed – had paid off. Life had begun to look good again. The dancing was fun and coping with the leering looks, the catcalls and the lewd propositions was how she really earned the money.
Success bred resentment in the world of exotic dancers however, and late one night she had caught a girl in her locker with a rolled up wad of bills – Melissa’s tips – in her hand. Something had snapped in Melissa right then and she had beaten the bitch bloody, in front of the crowd after the thief had fled the locker room into the club proper.
The incident had gotten her fired on the spot, another downward swoop in the rollercoaster of her existence, but then she had gotten a call the next day from a guy who ran a different kind of club – one where girls not only danced but were paid to fight in front of the patrons, with bonus prize-money for the winners.
Melissa had been a frequent winner and a crowd favorite even when she lost. She knew how to play up the emotion of the fight, win or lose, and the audiences had loved her for it. One thing had led to another and she had begun to fight in better clubs though also against better opponents. The fights had become harder, the money more lucrative, but the stakes higher too. She shuddered now as she remembered some of the things she had suffered. She hated even the memory of those degradations, but they had only made her train harder and fight harder.
Other women had learned to respect and even fear her skills and her wickedly inventive imagination in the aftermath of a fight. So had audiences and club owners. She had become sought after, a draw card with a reputation that had eventually brought her to the attention of the Society.
She took a deep breath that swelled her chest against the tight-stretched fabric of her strapless white cocktail dress. A few people nearby noticed, both men and women, and she kept herself from smiling at their fleeting glances, both admiring and envious. Even though her four-inch heels elevated her natural five-feet-three considerably, at 125lbs her petite frame only emphasized her ample bust and she was more than accustomed to those looks. She even encouraged them. She was proud of her breasts and loved to show them off. She let a smile play across her ruby-red lips as she shook her head slightly, sending her curly dark brown hair sweeping across her bare shoulders. She was a far different woman from who she used to be.
*****
Lucy Belfort smiled as she and her husband Bill handed their invitations to the dinner-jacketed doorman and stepped through the door to the Society’s latest gathering. It was not their first – they had been regular attendees for a year now – but they had been down in Palm Beach on the date of the last one and had missed it. She was looking forward to this party and the evening’s entertainment.
“Can I get you a drink, Lulu?” her husband asked. Like almost everyone else, he called her by the nickname she had had since childhood.
“Sure,” she replied. “My usual…Prosecco.” He flagged down a passing waiter and passed on the order along with his own Scotch on the rocks.
They mingled. Lulu talked easily with the men, though less so with the women. Confrontation was an ever-present possibility here. While she was on cordial terms with many of the women, the Society was not a place to make friends. Though she was not a professional fighter like many of the women here tonight, she was young enough and fit as well. At five feet four without her heels and 135lbs, she was a threat. That was enough for most to be wary of her, and she of them.
She was no stranger to a fight either. Over the years she had gotten into more than a few. Her build, petite and busty, along with her bubbly nature earned her a lot of attention from men and frequently some unwelcome attention from their wives and girlfriends. Sometimes those altercations had gotten physical, with varying degrees of success for Lulu.
It had been in one such encounter that she had met Bill. That had been a good night. She had won the fight too. She hadn’t always been so lucky though. Another time two girls had ambushed her in the ladies’ room at a club after one’s boyfriend had been giving her the eye, even though Lulu hadn’t encouraged or even noticed him. That night she’d wound up in the hospital.
That experience hadn’t discouraged her from fighting however. With a mix of Brazilian, Italian and Irish heritage, she had a temper that matched her ebullience, and she didn’t take insults lying down. Besides, she had discovered right from the start that watching her fight had a decidedly aphrodisiac effect on her husband so while she had learned to control her temper over the years and these days she rarely instigated a fight, she didn’t back down from one either.
She looked around her, languidly regarding the crowd. There was a profusion of designer suits on the men, though neckties were rare except among the older patrons. Most of the women were no less sophisticated in their dresses and jewels, though many of the younger ones dressed more daringly to show a lot of bare flesh. Lulu herself was in a black Dior cocktail dress. Her dark brown hair, straightened tonight and streaked with blonde, was loose and fell partway down her black. The dress was sleeveless with a halter neck and a plunging neckline that showed off her impressive cleavage. The dress revealed her sculpted shoulders and was slit to the hip to give a glimpse of her feminine but powerful legs. She was proud of her body. Fighter or not, she worked out religiously and liked to display the results.
Her jewelry was also the equal of most women in the room. Bill was a partner in a successful Wall St trading firm and while he was no billionaire, he and Lulu lived very comfortably with houses in the Hamptons and Palm Beach as well as an apartment here in the City. The diamond pendant that nestled in the valley of her bosom tonight had been a birthday present from Bill, and her matching earrings she had gotten at Christmas. She was a fortunate woman and she knew it. She made sure she kept him happy, but he knew he was an equally lucky man and did his best to spoil her in his turn.
She and Bill had discovered the Society by accident. It was not a group that advertised its existence. They had been at a house party one night the previous spring and the conversation had briefly centered on a fight Lulu had had – and won – some months earlier. Unknown to them at the time, one of the couples at the party had been patrons of the Society and a month or so later, they had invited Bill and Lulu to their first Society gathering.
Tonight was their fifth such party. Lulu wondered who would be fighting. The card was never announced beforehand. The audience only knew the identities of the fighters when the master of ceremonies announced them. At the first few gatherings Bill and Lulu had attended, that service had been performed by a man who vaguely resembled George Clooney and to whom Lulu had been introduced simply as Michael, but word had it that Michael was traveling in Europe with lady, a leggy brunette who was also a Society fighter. Lately the hosting duties had fallen to an older, bespectacled man, balding and a little disheveled, named Andrew Scribbs.
Those duties appeared to be limited to hosting the gatherings, announcing the fighters and starting the fights however. There was no such thing as a referee in the Society. Though there were rules, or at least customs and traditions that seemed to be followed, Lulu had never seen anyone interfere in a fight once it had started.
She recognized quite a few of the Society’s fighting members among the crowd, along with others she did not, though the looks in their eyes and the way they moved revealed them to be fighters. An older blonde named Tiffany was easy to pick out in the crowd simply by her height, not to mention her red dress which revealed far more than it covered. She was standing with Jane, a young blonde who had won her Society membership some months ago, back before the Holidays. They were exchanging words with two attractive Latinas both dressed, unconventionally for this crowd, in black catsuits. By the looks on all their faces, the conversation was not a friendly one.
There was another Tiffany too, visible across the room. A busty brunette a little taller than Lulu, she was the Society’s ‘champion’ though Lulu wasn’t quite sure what that meant since there seemed to be no formal hierarchy or tournament structure to the fights that took place here. Tonight Tiffany was behaving quite obsequiously toward another girl, an attractive and equally buxom blonde. Lulu smiled to herself. She and Bill had been at the New Years Eve party in Rhode Island, where that girl had battled Tiffany in what was supposed to have been an exhibition match but which had turned into a degrading defeat for the champion. Lulu raised a mental eyebrow now at the sight of the brunette being so deferential. She would be interested to know what had transpired between those two, after their fight.
Several other faces were familiar, and Lulu and Bill made small talk as they moved through the crowd. There was a tall brunette named Serena, a frequent visitor from Italy and a fighter in
La Società Felina Italiana, the Society’s affiliated sister club in Rome. Tonight she was accompanied by two other Italians, a distinguished man and an attractive blonde haired woman whom she introduced as Freddie and Marlies. It seemed Marlies too was a fighter of some renown and had even fought Serena here in the Society, though that had been before Lulu’s time. The five of them sipped their drinks and speculated on who would fight tonight.
*****
Melissa relinquished her vantage point on the mezzanine balcony near the bar and made her way down one of the two long, curving stairways to the first floor. Each step was several yards wide with glass coffee tables and leather couches, some of which were occupied now by knots of people chatting idly. Together the twin staircases embraced a circular space perhaps thirty feet across in the middle of the room – the arena. The couches would offer prime views when tonight’s fight began.
She accepted a glass of wine from a passing waiter and sipped at it sparingly. She couldn’t tell the vineyard or the vintage but It was a fine buttery Chardonnay, definitely not average banquet hall fare. Nursing it, she mingled with the crowd, introducing herself, making conversation, noting the way men’s eyes gravitated to her chest and how the women looked her up and down appraisingly, sizing her up as a potential opponent.
After perhaps fifteen minutes of this stop-and-go progress around the room, she spotted something – or rather someone – that stopped her in her tracks. Her heart suddenly pounded like a hammer in her chest. Her hand trembled and she realized she was holding her wine glass so tightly she had to consciously relax her grip in case she broke the stem.
She hadn’t laid eyes on Bill Belfort in eight years, not since the day they had signed the divorce papers, and she would have gladly let that situation continue for another eight or another eighty. That was not so true for the woman who stood next to him right now. Lucy Ferreira was the shameless whore who had flirted with Bill that night in Rhode Island. She had hit on him even though she had been one of the staff at the party. Melissa had confronted her and the argument had turned physical. Lucy had beaten Melissa badly in that fight and it had begun the slow rot in her relationship with Bill until, almost a year later, they had separated.
Lucy had moved in with Bill even before the divorce was final. Melissa had frequently fantasized since then, about what she would do to the dirty whore if they ever crossed paths again. She had dreamed about getting her hands on the slut and wreaking her vengeance. Not for taking Bill – she could have the bastard – but for shaming her in front of all her friends, and for all the suffering she had undergone in the years since. It was an incredible irony that they should run into each other tonight, here in one of the world’s most exclusive catfight clubs.
Almost before she knew what was happening, she had made a beeline through the crowd and stood facing her enemy. Strangely enough, all she could find to say was, “[i[You![/i]”
Lucy stared back at her with an icy smile. She didn’t say anything, but Bill broke the strained slience. “Melissa. What are – ?”
Melissa cut him off. “Shut up, Bill. Don’t talk to me. I
was here to enjoy the party, but that was before I caught sight of you and your whore.”
“On your own, I see,” retorted Lucy. “Desperate and dateless. Not much has changed.”
“Lulu…” Bill began.
“No.” She too cut him off. “Stay out of this. This is between me and her.”
“Slutbag,” snarled Melissa. “I’m surprised he hasn’t traded you in for a younger model.”
“Worn out old hag,” hissed Lulu. “He doesn’t need to trade me in, because I’m not way past my sell-by date, like you were…and are.”
Melissa’s face darkened at the reference to her age. She was maybe ten years older than Lucy. Bill was a few years older still. “You should know about sell-by dates…whore.”
She didn’t even see Lulu’s hand move before the younger woman’s stinging slap snapped her head to the side, flinging her hair across her face. “Bitch! I beat your dirty old ass once and I’ll do it again!”
“I’ll ruin you!” Melissa flew at her enemy, shoving her fingers into Lulu’s hair, dragging her forward and sending a vicious slap of her own across Lulu’s cheek.
The two stumbled in circles for ten or fifteen seconds, neither landing another blow as they jockeyed for position, unsteady in their heels. By that time, two men had stepped in to drag them apart. Both women struggled to tear themselves free, each eager to get back at the other with fists and nails.
“Let me go!” Lulu snapped. “I’ll teach her to slap me!”
“You slapped me first, you whore!”
“You slapped
me first, that night in the Hamptons!”
“You deserved it. You hit on my husband!”
“I DID NOT!!! That was all in your crazy head, bitch!”
“You were just waiting to move in on him as soon as we were separated!”
“Because he wanted somebody who wasn’t a batshit crazy loser!”
Melissa shrieked in rage, clawing the air as the man restraining her struggled to hold her back.
A new voice cut through the clamor. “Ladies…LADIES!” His voice had a razor sharp edge although, when they each stopped and turned to look at him, he seemed quite unassuming. Standing six feet or maybe a trifle taller, he had thinning hair and wire-framed glasses. He was dressed in a navy blue sports jacket over an open-necked sky blue shirt and khakis, brown loafers on his feet. He looked slightly unkempt, unlike most of the men in the room, and did not appear like he belonged here at all. Melissa knew he did though. This was Andrew Scribbs, the Society’s business manager and the man who had invited her here tonight.
“Let’s keep it civilized,” he said quietly but firmly. “Even here, we have standards of behavior and vulgar brawling will
not be tolerated.”
“I want that whore!” spat Melissa, jabbing a finger at Lulu. “I owe her! By God, I owe her!”
Scribbs stood silent for a moment, regarding each of them in turn. “It’s highly unusual.”
“Not quite true, Mr Scribbs,” said a voice from the crowd. Melissa turned and saw the speaker was a tall blonde, close to her own age, in a barely-there red dress. “It wouldn’t be the first impromptu challenge we’ve seen here.”
“Good point,” conceded Scribbs. He looked at Lulu. “Do you accept?”
“Oh damn right I do!” Lulu’s eyes blazed as she looked from him to Melissa. “You think I hurt you bad last time, bitch? You think I humiliated you then? That’s nothing compared to what I’ll do to you tonight!”
An icy cold anger had wrapped itself around Melissa’s heart. This was what she had dreamed of – revenge on the woman who had ruined her life. Whatever Lucy said, whatever excuses she made, Melissa knew the truth. Now it was payback time. “That was then…this is now.”
“Okay then.” Scribbs waved his arm and two women, dressed in black like the wait-staff, appeared at his elbow. “Take these two to the dressing rooms. Find them something more suitable for a fight.” He gazed around him at the crowd and added in a raised voice. “Ladies and gentlemen, tonight’s program has undergone a somewhat unexpected alteration.”
*****
Lulu could feel the tingling rush of adrenalin as she followed the girl, a slender brunette with her hair bound up in a braid, along a narrow passageway between the stairway and the wall, and through a door into a corridor beyond. She had thought she was done with that crazy bitch Melissa, years ago, that she was gone from her life – hers and Bill’s. Yet here she was, large as life and just as bitter as before. What the hell was she doing here? She was looking hard too – was she actually here to try out for Society membership? She was older than most but certainly not the oldest fighter here. That thought gave Lulu a twinge of apprehension, but she brushed it aside. She had ten years’ and ten pounds’ advantage over Melissa. She’d broken her once in front of a crowd and she’d do so again tonight.
Beneath the balcony, as she knew, were the dressing rooms where fighters would prepare for the fight, and where they would lick their wounds, both physical and emotional, afterward. The space there was bigger than she expected however, a web of labyrinthine corridors that stretched way back behind the bar. There was a stairway leading upward, but they passed it by and came to a wider space with cabinets and drawers along one wall. The girl waved her hand toward a set of drawers. “Like the man said, you don’t want to fight in that dress,” she said as she pulled a drawer open. “There’s not a lot here…most of the fighters prefer to bring their own…but you should be able to find something.”
Lulu looked inside. There, neatly folded, were a number of bikinis in various colors. She pulled one from the drawer and held it up to check the size of the top. She could get away with tiny bottoms and even liked them that way, but with her 40DD chest she needed a more substantial top. Her beasts were natural – not like that inflated bimbo she was about to fight – and that meant they needed more support.
The first bikini was not even close to adequate so she folded it again and returned it to its place. It took her several more tries before she found one that was big enough and in a style and color that she liked. She settled at last on a black triangle top that wasn’t quite as large as she normally wore but would suffice. The bottoms were a thong with tie sides that she could adjust to her hips. The fabric was a semi-sheer spandex that would show the outline of her dark aureolas, and that was part of what attracted her to it. Beating that bitch to a sobbing mess might be a serious matter, but there was no harm in showing off a little while she was doing so.
She followed the girl down another corridor and into what turned out to be the dressing room. There was a small closet in one corner with a full-length mirror on the wall beside it, a couch along another wall, and a counter with a stool and a lighted mirror. An open doorway revealed a bathroom beyond that was as large as, if not bigger than the dressing room itself.
“Get changed,” said her escort. She pointed to another door on the far side of the room, with a light above it. “In fifteen minutes, a bell will chime and the red light will come on. Go through the door and wait. The door on the other side will open and you step out into the arena.” She smiled. “Best of luck.”
“Thanks,” replied Lulu. The woman stepped out and closed the door, leaving Lulu alone. The impact of what she was about to do suddenly dawned on her. She was going to fight in the Society. She had had fights before, for sure, more than a few of them in public, but not like this. Here she was about to fight in front of some of the best catfighters in the world, against – who? Or more precisely against what? What was Melissa? What had she become in the years since they had last confronted one another?
Again she pushed the thought from her mind. Whatever Melissa had evolved into, Lulu had done some evolving of her own, especially since she and Bill had begun attending these Society gatherings. She worked out on a daily basis and pushed herself hard. She was sturdily built as she had always been, but it was all toned muscle.
She unfastened her dress and wriggled out of it, hanging it neatly in the closet with her shoes beneath it. She was naked underneath – the dress had been too tight for underwear and the bodice was supported with a built-in bra. She lifted her breasts in both hands and turned to the mirror to check for marks, but there were none. “Well done, Dior,” she murmured to herself as she turned away.
There was a small glass bottle on the counter in front of the mirror. She picked it up – body oil. It wasn’t something she was used to, for a fight – most of hers had been spontaneous – but she had seen enough Society fights to know what to do. She uncapped the bottle, poured a generous amount into her hand and smeared it liberally over her flesh from her chin to her feet. She washed her hands in the bathroom, noting the double-sized shower and the big Jacuzzi tub, and then returned to the couch where she had dropped the bikini.
Stepping into the thong, she pulled it up over her thighs and adjusted the knots over her hips, making them tight but not too tight. She had seen what a girl could do to another by yanking her bottoms up into her crotch and she had no wish to suffer that kind of treatment. Better that the knots should pull loose and the bottoms come away. She didn’t mind being naked in front of a crowd. She wasn’t shy and it wasn’t like a Society audience wasn’t used to it.
She knotted the upper spaghetti strap of the bikini top and slipped it over her head, pulling her hair out from under it before she stretched it downward over and beneath her breasts, tying it securely behind her back. She adjusted it evenly over her bosom, noting in the mirror that, as she had thought, the thin fabric clearly revealed the outlines of her aureolas.
Her nipples themselves jutted through the thin cups, already erect. Fighting turned her on. She made no secret of that. She looked forward to when she and Bill would get back to their apartment after she destroyed Melissa in the arena. They would be ravenous for each other. She smiled to herself as she began to stretch her muscles, warming up for the fight.
*****
Only a few yards away but separated by several solid walls, Melissa stood surveying herself in the mirror, critically assessing her appearance, adjusting the straps of her thong. Her tanned flesh glistened with body oil. She had selected a fluorescent yellow string bikini that was already turning transparent from the oil, showing her dark, hard nipples and the neatly trimmed stripe of dark hair on her mound. The thong was so small that a wisp of hair poked above the edge of the tiny triangle.
The top was nowhere near large enough to properly contain her mammoth breasts but she tied the straps tight and didn’t concern herself beyond that. There was no way the top was going to last more than a few minutes anyway. They never did in any of her fights. Her breasts were always a prime target and she knew from bitter experience that this particular opponent would maul them ruthlessly. She shuddered again at the memory of what the whore had done to them, years ago. She steeled herself.
Not this time.She gave herself another appraising look, from force of habit. In most clubs, tips were a big part of the purse and looking good – looking sexy – was all part of the job. Tonight she didn’t care so much what she looked like. Tonight was all about demolishing that dirty whore. She smiled to herself. A massive victory, the kind of humiliation she intended for this slut, might gain her the opportunity to fight for Society membership in the future.
A smile creased her lips as she gazed at her reflection now. Her arms were toned, her shoulders sculpted, her belly flat and hard with just the hit of a six-pack, her legs powerful yet sensuous. She twisted left, then right, rising onto her toes and gazing at the firm, round, tanned orbs of her buttocks. She had a sudden vision of them slamming down hard onto the whore’s chest. Her smile broadened. She was a completely different creature from the housewife she had been.
She began her warmup regime, the same set of exercises she performed before every fight. It was part stretching, part yoga, part isometrics, getting the blood flowing through her muscles, making them strong and supple. She had once seen a girl, insufficiently prepared, go into a cramp in a tight clinch. In these kinds of fights there were no timeouts, and the girl’s opponent had taken full advantage of the mistake. The result had been both catastrophic and degrading for the loser. Melissa didn’t intend to allow that to happen to her.
Just as she was completing her routine, she heard a melodic ringing and the light above the door to her left came on. She took a deep breath, the straps of her bikini top digging firmly into her flesh, and let it out slowly. It was time. Despite the relaxation move, she tingled with anticipation at the thought of getting her hands on that whore Lucy.
The door slid open of its own accord with a faint electric hum. There was a small space beyond, with another glowing red light. Melissa stepped inside. The door slid shut behind her. She waited, her pulse racing.
Any moment now. Her dream was about to come true.
It seemed like an eternity but could only have been ten seconds or so, before the door in front of her slid open. Melissa blinked. The lights in the club beyond seemed brighter than before, and the temperature in the room seemed warmer as she stepped out, feeling the thick cushioned floor of the arena beneath her bare feet.
Directly opposite her was another door and at precisely the same moment, Lulu emerged, staring across the space between them, grim relish in her eyes. The whore was dressed – barely – in black, her bikini similar in style to Melissa’s own. Melissa looked her up and down. She had never seen her enemy this unclothed before so she had no reference, but the years appeared to have been kind. Lulu looked strong, the muscles of her arms and legs well-defined beneath her golden skin. She was more solidly built than Melissa, but Melissa had no illusion that was fat. Her soon-to-be opponent clearly worked out. What she didn’t do, Melissa was sure, was fight regularly against opponents who were just as formidable as she was, and who gave her no quarter. That was the advantage that Melissa possessed, and which she knew would be telling. She hoped it would be telling enough. She had waiting so long to destroy this woman.
Lulu took two steps forward, into the arena. She raised her arms, turning a slow circle, displaying herself to the crowd.
Whore. The crowd applauded her. Melissa’s eyes narrowed.
See if they cheer you when I get done with you, cxnt.Melissa knew all about playing to the audience. She did it all the time. Having the crowd on your side could make all the difference when the fight got brutal and grueling, when you were carrying on out of sheer willpower, when you needed to dig deep and find that last ounce of resolve. Tonight though, she didn’t give a damn. She just wanted to get her claws on this skank and make her scream.
She launched herself across the arena at her enemy.
*****
Lulu completed her circle just in time to see Melissa closing on her at a full-out run, legs pumping, breasts bouncing, arms out and eyes alight with bloodlust. She didn’t catch sight of her quite in time to avoid the charge however. Melissa ducked low just before the moment of impact and her shoulder drove upward into Lulu’s chest just beneath her breasts, smashing them up into her ribs.
She didn’t have the time or the air to groan in pain as the blow slammed her off her feet. The walls that encircled half the arena, below the level of the balcony and stairways, were mirrored with waist-high clear glass screens above. It was into one of those mirrored panels that Lulu’s shoulders crashed hard, followed an instant later by the back of her head hitting the glass above with a force that made her see stars.
Pain lanced through her chest as Melissa’s full weight slammed into her and drove the breath from her lungs. She folded forward as her attacker pulled back, and her face met Melissa’s rising knee, straightening her right back up again. Stumbling back against the glass again, she threw her arms wide to brace and push herself off the wall, but that only exposed her torso to her enemy’s fist that rammed into her belly just above her navel.
She gasped with what little breath she retained, sagged against the wall and folded over again, this time pulling her arms in to shield herself. Melissa seized her by the hair, dragged her off the wall and hurled her sprawling into the center of the arena.
Lulu’s mind was reeling.
Dammit, how did she get so fast? This was not the Melissa she had fought all those years ago. This was not the jealous housewives or half-drunk bar skanks she was used to. This was a fighter. No, this was a fucking
warrior.
She rolled up onto her knees and tossed her hair out of her eyes, just as Melissa leapt at her and fired a snap kick to her chin. This time Lulu was ready though, or perhaps it was fear that gave her the speed she needed to sway sideways and avoid the kick, clenching her teeth at the pain it cost to her aching abs.
Melissa’s foot flew past her nose and Lulu saw her opportunity. She launched herself upward off her knees, grabbing her enemy’s ankle with both hands, heaving it high. With a scream of rage Melissa toppled backwards and slammed down hard on the base of her spine. The padded rug beneath them softened the blow somewhat, but Melissa’s mouth still opened wide in a renewed scream, this time one of pain.
Still holding tight to Melissa’s ankle, Lulu spun on the ball of her left foot and stomped her right down into the older woman’s left breast, ramming her heel into the hard nipple peeping around the edge of her straining bikini top. The blow crushed Melissa’s breast into her ribs and knocked her down on her back. She let a pain-wracked roar of rage.
Breathless and hurting though she was, Lulu knew she couldn’t afford to give this bitch a moment’s respite. This woman – this new Melissa – was unlike any opponent she had ever fought. She had to stay on the offensive, keep the pressure on and destroy her enemy before Melissa destroyed her.
She took a step back, dragging Melissa with her, flipping the other woman over onto her belly where Lulu could control her more easily. She stomped her foot down again, this time into the back of Melissa’s thigh, getting another cry of anguish.
As she stepped in to ram her foot down between Melissa’s shoulders, her enemy surprised her by jerking her legs and hips up off the floor. Using Lulu’s own hold on her ankle for purchase, she spun her body in mid-air and sent her left leg crashing into Lulu’s chest. Unprepared, Lulu lost her footing and went down on her back with a jarring thud. The impact made her breasts bounce wildly, knocking them partly out of her top so that the lower strap cut across just beneath her nipples. Melissa fell back to the floor but kept rolling and next thing Lulu knew, the bitch was up on her knees looming over her, arms outstretched, fingers hooked into talons. “Now you’re mine, whore!”
Lulu threw up her arms but Melissa blasted through her defenses like a winter storm and she wailed in torment as the older woman’s claws found her soft breasts, thumbs jabbing up into the folds beneath, fingers sinking deep. She grabbed Melissa’s wrists in both hands, trying to pull her attacker off, scissoring her legs tight around Melissa’s narrow waist, thrashing left and right trying to topple Melissa off her.
She succeeded in that but still Melissa clung to her breasts, twisting, clawing, mauling them, screaming in anger. Desperately Lulu fought back, trying to fend off the barrage of attacks. She drove a fist into Melissa’s left temple, another into her right breast, a third into her ribs but nothing deterred her enemy’s frenzied assault. She pulled Melissa in close with an arm around her neck and raked her nails down Melissa’s spine.
Melissa howled in agony, arched her back and twisted the other way, away from Lulu’s claws. Lulu twisted too and hammered her knee into Melissa’s ribs. Melissa gasped in pain and the fury of her attacks on Lulu’s chest abated a little. Lulu landed a right hook on the older woman’s jaw that whipped her head around, then slammed an elbow up under her chin. Melissa’s eyes glazed over and she slumped sideways, momentarily stunned. Lulu rolled away in the other direction, scrambled to her knees and then to her feet.
She turned as she rose, keeping her eyes on Melissa, not willing to let the bitch out of her sight for an instant. Melissa was still shaking her head on all fours though. Past her, in the mirrored wall behind, Lulu caught sight of herself and winced. Her bikini top hung from the upper strap only and her bare breasts were blotched with angry welts and crisscrossed with livid scratches from Melissa’s nails. Waves of pain coursed them with each pounding beat of her heart.
The last time they had fought, Lulu had punched, kicked and stomped Melissa from head to toe. The older woman had stubbornly refused to give in, holding on long after she should have surrendered. Only when Lulu had worked her breasts over brutally with fists, knees and feet had she finally begged for mercy. Now the bitch was obviously trying to get some payback for what had happened to her all those years ago.
A wave of anger coursed through Lulu. She wasn’t about to let that happen. She discarded the idea of tearing off her top and tossing it away, not wanting to spare the time. She launched herself across the arena and fired a snap kick that caught Melissa under the chin, hurled her over onto her back and sent her skidding along the the floor for several feet. She rolled onto her side, shoving her rounded ass in the air as she drew her knees under and pushed up onto her elbows.
Leaping forward again, Lulu thrust a hand into the back of Melissa’s thong, the other into her hair, now damp with sweat, and jerked her upward. Melissa shrieked in pain as the thong cut into her crotch, but Lulu wasn’t content with that. She ran forward and slammed her adversary head first into the wall. “NNNGGGUUUHHH!!!”
Melissa managed to get her arms up to absorb a little of the impact, but took most of it on her cheek and, an instant later, on her chest as her body slammed into the mirror with Lulu’s full weight behind it. She let out an explosive grunt and a spray of spittle stained the glass as the breath rushed out of her. Lulu jerked her back and drove her into the wall a second time, then even further back for the third and hardest blow.
This time however, Melissa threw up a leg and braced it against the wall, blocking Lulu’s rush. As the younger woman slammed hard into her back, Melissa threw her head backwards and the back of her skull connected with Lulu’s cheek. Stunned for a moment, she was not fast enough to defend herself as Melissa whirled and rammed a fist upward into her belly between her ribs and her navel. She gasped and hunched over as pain blossomed in her belly.
Melissa thrust both hands into her hair and whirled again, dragging Lulu with her and flinging her up against the wall. Lulu twisted and took the impact on her back. She blocked the punch that Melissa threw at the same spot on her midriff and deflected another slashing attack across her chest from her enemy’s nails. Lulu kicked out, ramming a knee up into Melissa’s left thigh, driving the other woman back, giving her space to slip away from the wall and back into the middle of the arena.
She glared at her assailant. Melissa’s bikini top too had come adrift, her breasts spilling out of the cups though the straps still held. Her flesh bore the marks of Lulu’s attacks, though she was less scratched up than Lulu herself.
Bitch! Her chest was heaving from the exertion of the fierce battle, her skin gleaming with perspiration as well as body oil, her hair matted and stuck to her skin. Her eyes blazed with hatred.
With a loud cry Melissa charged again. Lulu stood her ground, bracing herself, getting her own arms up to grab for her enemy’s elbows. An instant before they crashed together she whipped her right leg up jabbing her foot into Melissa’s lower belly, simultaneously falling backward and pulling the other woman into a monkey flip.
Melissa deftly thwarted the move however by twisting her torso to the left, making Lulu’s leg skid off her sweat-slicked skin. She leaned downward, wrapping her arm around Lulu’s thigh, holding her in place as Melissa’s shoulder hammered into her belly.
They both went down in a tangle of limbs with Melissa half on top of Lulu. The younger woman slammed an open palm up under her adversary’s chin, snapping Melissa’s head back sharply, and drove a knee hard into Melissa’s side. Melissa gave a sharp grunt of pain but retaliated with a backfist across Lulu’s cheek and another punch that battered the underside of Lulu’s left breast. The older woman scrambled up over Lulu but Lulu shoved hard with her right leg and toppled her adversary off her.
Melissa clung to her though with a hand twisted in her hanging bikini top, the other gripping her left breast, and dragged Lulu with her onto her side. Before Lulu knew what was happening Melissa reversed the direction of her roll, threw a leg over hers and was clinging to her back like a snarling limpet.
Lulu frantically threw an elbow back, ramming it into Melissa’s side as her enemy pinned her to the floor, but Melissa hung on grimly and raked her nails down the outside of Lulu’s right breast. Lulu let out a shriek of pain and thrashed wildly underneath her enemy, but Melissa’s grip was implacable. She wrenched Lulu’s head up by the hair, arching her back, gaining anther anguished howl from the younger woman, and a moment later slammed her knee up between Lulu’s legs. Lulu gasped but the angle was awkward and though a wave of pain rushed through her groin, the blow was not the devastating onslaught that her enemy intended.
Melissa was undeterred. Her claws slashed at Lulu’s back, neck, sides and breasts. As Lulu tried desperately to defend herself, she grappled with Melissa’s wrist but the other woman took advantage of that opportunity to jerk Lulu’s head back and then slam her forehead down into the mat. Lulu groaned, then screamed as Melissa’s fist drove into her right kidney. Pain fogged her mind and weakened her body. The bitch was all over her and she was finding it increasingly difficult to fight back.
She cried out again as Melissa boosted herself to her feet with a knee in Lulu’s butt, and yet again as her enemy jerked her up by the back of her thong as Lulu had done to her moments before. Melissa’s foot slammed down into the small of her back and Lulu screamed even louder.
Melissa jerked harder on Lulu’s thong, yanking it deep into the folds of her sex and Lulu moaned in misery. She prayed silently for the knots that secured the straps on her hips to come loose, but it took two more savage jerks from her tormentor before they finally did and her hips fell back to the floor. Her relief was short-lived as she felt Melissa’s fingers thrust into her hair again, but fear lent her strength and she twisted her body hard, arcing her left leg out and then upward.
Caught by surprise, off balance and bent over, Melissa went down hard. Lulu felt a rush of hope as she continued her roll over onto her back, lifting her leg again and bringing her heel down hard into the pit of Melissa’s stomach. The older woman jack-knifed upward off the floor, but she rolled up onto her knees and flung herself back at Lulu with a roar of rage.
Lulu drew her legs up until her knees slammed into her battered breasts, then lashed out with both feet. In mid-air, committed to her body splash attack, Melissa had no way to dodge and Lulu’s feet caught her full in the chest. The combined momentum flung the older woman up and over Lulu to land in a heap on her side, clutching at her bosom, groaning in pain.
The crowd let out a collective moan that combined sympathy and appreciation of the damaging blow. A few people even applauded and Lulu felt a sudden surge of pride. She, just an amateur, had impressed a crowd that was used to watching the best of the best. Adrenalin rushed through her veins. She leapt to her feet, ignoring the screaming protests from every exhausted muscle. She crossed the distance that separated them in a single stride and her foot buried itself deep in Melissa’s belly, sending her rolling across the mat to wind up on her back, hair strewn across her face.
Lulu didn’t hesitate a moment as she flew after her enemy, jumped in the air and came down with both feet spearing into Melissa’s unprotected abs – except the other woman rolled away at the last instant, warned by some sixth sense. Lulu landed awkwardly, stumbled and fell, rolling off the momentum and coming up to her knees again, facing her enemy.
Melissa clambered to her feet, her face tight with pain and contorted with pure malice. Her breasts and belly were marked now with crimson blotches that would be dark bruises by morning. The look in her eyes however, said she was far from finished. Lulu knew from the pain and fatigue in her own body, that she had to change that and quickly.
Lulu charged her enemy again, not wanting to give Melissa the time to recover. It was clear to her now why the bitch was here – she was vying for Society membership. Running into Bill and Lulu had interfered with her plans and Lulu had become her target. Lulu had never in her worst nightmare thought she would find herself going up against a world-class professional catfighter, but it was far too late to do anything about it now. Her only choices were victory or defeat – and she didn’t want to think about defeat.
Melissa lunged forward too, and the two women slammed together chest to chest, groaning, straining as each sought to force the other back with every ounce of their waning strength. Lulu felt Melissa’s hot breath on her cheek, their erect nipples grinding against one another, the woman’s claws digging into her flesh as she raked Melissa’s back in her turn. Muscles bunched they struggled in a savage standoff.
It was Melissa who broke the deadlock by sinking her teeth viciously into Lulu’s right shoulder. Lulu’s eyes flew open wide and she shrieked in pain. Biting was considered a taboo in professional catfighting circles, and Lulu had never seen anyone pull such a trick. But this fight was no professional encounter. This was deeply personal, bitter hatred that had festered for years now exploding into flame.
The shock broke her concentration and she stumbled back a step, then another as Melissa’s knee drove upward into her belly. She folded over gasping, instinctively grasping at her midsection. Melissa grabbed her by the hair, spun her in a half circle again and slammed another knee up into her chin, knocking her upright once again and sending her reeling backwards into the crowd that pressed close to one edge of the arena.
Lulu recovered her balance a single step before she would have tripped over a coffee table in front of one of the low couches, but had no time to do anything else before Melissa charged her again. She could not retreat and the close-packed crowd kept her from dodging. Without thinking she did the only thing she could do. She dropped to one knee.
With a scream of frustrated fury, Melissa slammed into her and doubled forward over Lulu’s shoulder, her clawed fingers clutching at empty air. Lulu gave a roar of her own as she surged to her feet ignoring the screaming protests of her battered body. Melissa’s arms and legs pin wheeled as she flew through the air In a howling arc to slam down across the back of a couch as its occupants scattered in panic.
Lulu spun on the balls of her feet and lunged after Melissa. A glass topped coffee table stood between them and she leapt onto it, her eyes intent on her enemy’s upturend ass. At another time or against another opponent she might have had some qualms about the attack she was about to launch but after that bite, against this vicious bitch, she felt no hesitation at all as she launched a flying kick that caught Melissa solidly in the crotch, crushing her clit into her pubic bone and flinging her head over heels.
The force of the kick flung Melissa over the couch to land in a sprawled heap on the far side. Lulu’s momentum carried her over the couch too but she landed on her feet and slammed a heel down between the older woman’s shoulders as Melissa tried, weakly and ponderously, to push herself up on her elbows. “No you don’t, bitch!” She bent, thrust her hands into Melissa’s matted hair, jerked her up and slammed her head savagely into the back of the couch.
Melissa groaned and went limp in Lulu’s arms for a moment. Lulu jerked her up onto her knees, and drew back her arm ready to smash a backfist across her enemy’s cheek, but Melissa again surprised her and drove her own fist upward from the floor to hammer Lulu’s belly just above her mound.
Lulu gasped and her knees almost buckled, but she recovered herself with a supreme effort. Screaming with furious anguish, she drove her knee into Melissa’s chest, once then twice, to the left breast and the right. Then she whirled and, with a final roar of rage, speared Melissa’s head into the hard back of the couch again.
When she dropped Melissa to the floor this time, her enemy lay still, unmoving. Lulu kicked her in the ribs. She groaned but still made no move to protect or defend herself. Her chest heaving, Lulu stood staring down at her for a long moment before her legs gave way and she fell to her knees alongside her beaten foe.
She knew how Society fights traditionally ended, with the loser facesat and forced to lick the winner to climax. There was no way Lulu was going to let this bitch’s mouth anywhere near her pussy however. She wouldn’t put it past Melissa to bite her down there. She could, of course, force the loser herself to orgasm on the mat, humiliating her that way, but she was also damned if she was going to give the bitch any kind of pleasure, even that.
There had to be something though. She needed to do something that the crowd, and most of all Melissa, would remember for a long time. She was the last woman standing in a Society match, and she would be expected to give the audience their due.
A waiter passed with some glasses and an empty wine bottle on a tray. An idea occurred to Lulu. “You!” The girl turned. “Wait here!” Despite the terrible weariness in her voice, there was no disobeying the steely edge there.
Lulu crawled over to the still motionless Melissa, pulled the knots loose on her fallen enemy’s bikini and dragged it off her. She pulled Melissa’s arms behind her back and used the top to tie them together at the elbows. Then she bent the older woman’s legs up behind her back and bound them with the other strap, hogtying her. Such bondage wasn’t a Society custom but nor were cheating crazy bitches like Melissa. Trussing her up would keep her from pulling any nasty surprises now, after the end of the fight.
With a will she didn’t know she possessed, she dragged herself to her feet. She grabbed a drink from the waiter’ tray and threw her head back to down it, not even caring what it was. Warmth flooded through her, the aches, pains and fatigue abating for the moment. She took another glass from the tray, bent and threw it in Melissa’s face, following it up with a kick to the ribs. “Wake up, bitch!”
Melissa stirred, moaning. She tried to move her limbs and found she couldn’t. Her eyes stared blearily but venomously up at Lulu, and Lulu was glad in that moment for the precautions she had taken. She bent and grabbed Melissa by the hair, dragging her groaning, cursing enemy slowly around the couch and back toward the arena. She looked over her shoulder at the waiter. “Follow me!” Again there was no room for any dissent.
It took more strength and determination than she thought she had left, but eventually she stood in the center of the circular arena with Melissa laying at her heat. “Give me that bottle,” she ordered the waiter, and took it from the tray. She dropped to one knee, seized Melissa by the hair once more and hauled her shattered but still glowering foe up across her knee.
She stared down into Melissa’s baleful eyes. “I beat you, bitch…again,” she hissed, and then added with more bravado than she felt, “and you
don’t want there to be a third time.” With that, she shoved the bottle up between Melissa’s thighs. Her enemy groaned in desolate despair, lacking any means to break herself free or even the strength to struggle much – and what struggle she did put up was completely futile. The neck of the bottle slid between her pussy lips and deep inside her. Melissa wailed and arched her back, but she could not escape the violation.
Lulu jerked her knee away. Tied as she was, bent the way she was, battered as she was, Melissa had no proper way to hold herself up, and her own weight impaled her on the bottle. She moaned and trembled, but any movement only drove it deeper inside her. Finally she gave up and simply knelt there, hogtied and arched over, straining vainly to hold herself as erect as she could, trembling and whimpering as she fought her own worn-out body.
Rising wearily to her feet, Lulu turned another circle, looking at the eyes of the audience, at all the fighters gathered here tonight. She saw respect, in some cases grudging, along with admiration and even lust. “And
that, ladies and gentlemen,” she said with a smile, “is how it’s done.”
The audience burst into applause. She would have bowed, but she was afraid she would face-plant the floor.
*****
It was an hour later, maybe more, when Lulu and Bill sat on a couch near the windows overlooking the harbor, in conversation with a tall blonde haired fighter named Misty who had come to congratulate Lulu and stayed to chat. Lulu had soaked her aching body for a long time in the tub back in the dressing room, and two painkillers along with several more glasses of Prosecco had taken the edge off.
She was mildly surprised to look and see Andrew Scribbs standing over her, though not much so. Many others had come by to offer their congratulations, though she noted with satisfaction that there had been no sign of the bitch Melissa. “Mr Scribbs,” she smiled.
“Lucy Belfort.” He smiled and gave a slight bow before he slipped into the seat opposite. He was carrying a small lacquered wooden box. “I presume you know the Society’s traditions.”
Lulu smiled at the box. “Some of them, at least,” she replied, “though I thought that was just for the professional fighters.”
He smiled again and inclined his head. “You gave a good account of yourself tonight. Your opponent was going to be considered for full membership.” His slight emphasis on the ‘was’ wasn’t lost on Lulu.
Scribbs slid the box across the coffee table between them. Lulu lifted the lid. Inside, neatly folded and laundered now, was the fluorescent yellow bikini that Melissa had worn during the fight. Now it was Lulu’s, a trophy. She looked up at him and smiled. “Thank you.”
“There’s something else too.” He reached into his jacket and brought out a red envelope, sealed with the Society’s emblem, a stylized ‘S’ on a gold disc.
Lulu raised her eyebrows as reached over and handed it to her. She peeled it open and her eyes widened as she saw what it contained – a check for twenty five thousand dollars. “What – ?” she broke off, not knowing what to say next.
“There was a brief meeting of the committee after your fight, while you were showering and changing,” he explained. “You fought a contender and even though it could be argued that you were not technically a contender yourself, the decision was unanimous.” His smile broadened. “Welcome to the Society.”
Lulu decided she needed another drink.
THE END
