[bcw8]

Where do you even stage a three-way catfight?

“I know just the place,” said Rick.  Rick is my younger brother.  He runs with a kind of wild crowd - I never really trusted this guy Mark that he hangs out with, for example.  Speak of the devil.

“Mark got me into this place once,” Rick said.  “It’s a huge fucking mansion, and they hold fights there.  You wouldn’t believe the one I went to.”  He told me all about it, but when he got to the part about a woman spectator stroking his dick, my mind wandered off to the way Marcy had taken my cock during the first fight, the one between Holly and Dana.  I didn’t really listen to the rest.  Turns out I should have.

Speaking of paying attention: you can’t tell the players without a scorecard.  Here’s the background in a very small nutshell.  If you want details, read my other stories,

The first fight was Holly and Dana, over my now ex-friend Nick.  Holly took a vicious beating but in the end she strangled Dana unconscious, and moved in with Nick

The second fight was Dana and Marcy, my now ex-wife, over me, and as I learned during it, over that sonofabitch Nick, too.  It was a long, brutal war, and Dana finished it, leaving Marcy beaten in sand at the ocean’s edge.

Holly had since learned that Marcy had been fucking Nick - still was, in fact.  She learned that because I told her while I was fucking her.  Take that, Nick, you shitbag.  I had not invited him to this.

Dana wanted revenge against Holly.  Marcy wanted revenge against Dana.  Holly wanted a piece of Marcy and was very happy for a chance to prove her win over Dana was no fluke.  This was all her idea, in fact.

A sweet little triangle, don’t you agree?

With the help of Rick’s friend Mark, I got a meeting with the older dude who ran this house, who hosted the fights.  We met in his study.  He introduced me to a gorgeous redhead as his wife, Monica.  A much younger trophy wife, for sure.  She sat in as I described the scenario.  He nodded along.  She squirmed in her chair, her lips parted slightly.  That gave me a raging hard-on.  This woman was definitely into catfights.

“The ballroom,” he said decisively.  Meeting over.  He showed me the room before I left.  It was huge, dominated by a floor-to-ceiling bay window, and anchored by a grand piano in one corner.  He saw me out, past a row of portrait photos in the hall.  I didn’t really look at them but once in my car I had a nagging image of someone familiar.  I couldn’t believe it.  It was all coming together.  Two of the three women basically hated me now but they all hated each other even more. 

Rick and I were there on the night, in tuxes, watching guests trickle in and line the walls.  The ballroom had four doors, that’s how big it was.  The host came in at the stroke of nine p.m., the stunning Monica on his arm.  Behind him was a sultry brunette - “Petra” - said Rick, and behind her another brunette.  Rick elbowed me.  “That’s Sara,” he said.

Sara.  Fuck me, it was Sara.  She smiled, and came straight at us.  She wore a stunning white sleeveless sheath dress with a big keyhole cut-out that flaunted her clearly braless cleavage.  She kissed Rick, and turned to me.  “Mmmmmm,” she purred, and her mouth was hot on mine.  She settled in between us.  Rick looked at me.  I shook my head.  Not now.  But fuck.

Holly entered from the door to the far left.  She is a little bit like a petite Kate Upton, 5’3” and blonde.  But with short hair, and less zaftig.  Okay, it’s mostly her tits that make me think of Kate Upton.  She wore a black strapless dress with a white trim on the neckline that really put her girls on display.

Dana, from one of the two middle doors, in blue.  Her hair was swept up in a french twist, and her pearls dangled into the frame her halter top made of her upper chest.  Her skirt was slit very very high up her thigh.  She and Holly were practically twins in the tits department, except that if you hefted Holly’s left boob you could feel the weight of the scar tissue from when Dana ruptured it, and if you had your face in Dana’s cleavage you could see the thin scars from Holly’s teeth and the corkscrew Marcy used on her.

Finally, my lovely ex.  Marcy looked amazing.  Her black curls were styled shorter than when we were together.  She wore red, spaghetti strings holding up a tight satin bodice.  She was a little smaller that the others in the bust, but had nothing to be ashamed about.  Her eyes locked on me, then darted to my right.  Sara.  Like I said, fuck.  And while Marcy stared at her, Sara ran her hand over my cock.  Just a little show for one.

The host stepped to the center.

[deity17313]

 , you finally added the redhead  that's just as vicious, that'll take on sydney?, lol

[catftluver]

Epic man, gonna be EPIC!!! So many twists can happen in this fight..... OH MY!

[bcw8]

The host stepped to the center.

He summarized the background pretty efficiently, I thought  I think the room got the picture, although Sara injected a bit of confusion when she decided to keep her left hand on my cock while everyone looked at me, and at the same time ran her right hand over Rick’s cock.   All three fighters, and Monica, stared daggers at her.  She smiled serenely back.

He also went over the rules, or I should say rule, singular.  Dana, no idiot, had demanded it.  While each woman had a motive to fight each of her rivals, Marcy and Holly didn’t have a vicious fight in their past, so there was an obvious risk of them joining to tear Dana apart before turning on each other.  The rule was this:  two-on-one was allowed, even encouraged, but it could continue for a maximum of ninety seconds.  After that, the two allies had to abandon their victim and turn on each other, or be disqualified.  The host was the referee on this point alone.

The trinity fight itself was no holds barred on violence, anything was allowed. The winner would be the one woman left standing over two unconscious opponents.

He called them to a tight circle in the center.

“One hand in each others’ hair,” he ordered.   Three heads were dragged back simultaneously as they enthusiastically obeyed.

“Fight!” he roared.

Whether the rule was needed or whether the rule inspired it, who can say, but instantly both Holly and Marcy released each other’s hair and used their now-free hand to attack Dana’s chest.  Her head still pinned back by their hair grip, Dana screamed as they ripped her tits out into the hammock of her halter neckline.   

But I knew - pillow talk - that as much as Holly hated Dana, she was furious with Marcy too, and that her strategy was to ambush.

So as soon as Marcy’s focus was locked on Dana, Holly grabbed Marcy’s hair again and drove the two brunette’s heads together.  It may have been a slapstick move, but she hit it perfectly.  They hit cheekbone to cheekbone with a savage crunch.  They both dropped to their knees.  Holly punched down into Marcy’s face, a quick vicious shot into the same cheekbone, and locked both hands onto Dana’s bared breasts as my ex slumped to the floor.

What a start!  The crowd, fancy dress notwithstanding, was calling for blood already.

Holly’s nails had disappeared into the flesh of Dana’s tits.  She jerked Dana back and forth, shaking her, driving her thumbnails especially deep into her oversized areolas.  Dana screamed, and shot her hand up under Holly’s skirt.  Her claw had just reached the blonde’s pussy when Marcy landed on Holly’s back, tearing down the decolletage of her strapless dress and ripping at her dark pink nipples as they bounced free.

Holly let go of Dana as Marcy dragged her back.  The two of them crashed to the floor.  Marcy had Holly’s dress bodice jammed down to her waist and mauled her 34Ds.  Holly shrieked and twisted, pounding her elbow into Marcy’s face.  In less than a minute, Marcy had taken three hard shots to her left cheekbone.  A mouse was rising already.  Holly had Marcy’s tits up and out of her red scoop neckline now and twisted her nipples.  When she stretched Marcy’s left one out and shook her breast, Sara’s fingers tightened on my cock.  She remembered.

Then Dana was there as they grappled.  She kicked at their heads, they were close together and she didn’t care which she hit.  It was Holly’s.  Dana’s shoe split her lower lip.  Holly was knocked sideways, so Dana’s second kick was a clear shot into Marcy’s face.  That cheekbone again.  She pulled her foot back again, and Holly swept her planted leg with a hard kick to the back of her knee.

They all scrambled to their hands and knees.  All three sets of breasts were out, swaying as their heads came up.  Dana and Marcy clashed.  Holly ripped open the back of Marcy’s dress, and mauled her breasts from behind.  Dana stabbed a thumb at Holly’s eye, narrowly missing.  Holly spun away and kicked out, her stiletto heel stabbing Dana in the side.  Marcy broke the halter clasp at the back of Dana’s neck, and clawed at her tits.  Dana’s thumbnail opened the swelling knot on Marcy’s cheekbone.  First blood.

All three women were in a frenzy of hate.  Omne trium perfectum - every set of three is complete.

[deity17313]

The rule of three, the science behind that logic makes this catfight serene to the reader.

[bcw8]

They broke apart, three corners of a triangle.  Marcy’s dress was ripped, so she wriggled it over her hips and stepped out of it.  She was in only thin red satin panties and her heels now,  Jesus, she looked good.  Since losing those two catfights in brutal fashion, she’d become a bit of a gym rat.  Her body was hard.  Almost as if she heard my thoughts, she looked at me as she started to circle.  “Quitter,” Sara said, loud enough for Marcy to hear.

Dana heard her too.  I saw her look at Sara.  I had told her the story of Marcy’s first fight.  She was adding two and two.

Dana peeled off her torn dress too, and also moved.  She had a livid bruise on her side from Holly’s heel.  “Marcy,” she said. “You and me, on Holly.  Once she’s out, you can have what you really want - just you and me, one on one, bitch.”  This was a two-on-one motivation that hadn’t occurred to me.  Would the long-time friends bury the hatchet long enough to insure they could then bury nails in each other?
 
Marcy’s face was tight.  She moved past me with her back to me.  I ached to have my hands on her ass.

Holly’s dress was still intact, but she dropped it anyway, her face furious. She held her arms wide, inviting them.  “Fucking brunette sisterhood!” she snarled.  “Come at me together, I don’t give a fuck.  I’ll still whip your fat fucking asses.”

Dana didn’t wait.  She went for Holly.  They slammed together and in that second Marcy whirled and slapped Sara like a rifle shot.  Sara turned halfway around at her waist, her cheek bright red.  “Fuck you, cxnt!” Marcy shouted at her, then turned and charged at her two opponents. She hit them shoulders down and all three of them crashed to the floor.

Sara was trembling with rage, staring at Marcy.  I saw Monica across the room, grinning.

Dana had Holly’s arms pinned back, dragging her to her feet.  Marcy bounced up to, shooting a glance at me - or at Sara.

“Hit her,” Dana grunted.  Marcy lashed her fist into Holly’s mouth.

“Two on one,” the host called.  Ninety seconds.

Marcy pounded Holly’s body.  Even after the brutal job Dana had done on Holly in their fight, the blonde had the best tits of the three of them.  Marcy practically came off her feet whipping her fists into them.  A minute to go.

“Keep hitting --”

Dana didn’t finish, because Marcy punched past Holly’s face into hers.  An ambush, well before the time limit for the double-team.  Dana staggered back.  Arms free, Holly repaid Marcy with a shot to her tits.  Marcy gasped, her head snapping back.  Holly punished her with another, knuckles right into her left nipple, then wheeled on Dana.

These three weren’t stupid.  They knew two things for sure.  One, getting tied up with one opponent left you open to ambush from the third.  Two, the other two women were absolute fucking whores who could not be trusted in the slightest.

Holly’s charge into Dana carried the two of them into the grand piano with a crash.  Dana twisted, gripping Holly’s left bicep, pushing her arm across its top.  The outside of Holly’s left breast pressed against the side of the piano’s rim.  Dana’s fist smashed into its inside curve.  Holly screamed in sudden, desperate pain.  I knew from being in Holly’s bed, fondling her breasts, that her left one had never fully healed from when Dana had ruptured it.  Dana also knew that.  Maybe I had told her.  She switched her grip to Holly’s hair, dragging her head sideways, and hit her again, crushing her breast against the solid wood.  Deep in the piano, its strings hummed from the impact.

Marcy was there.  Dana watched her, eyes hot with hate.  She didn’t want to abandon Holly; she had the bitch and was hurting her.  She took the chance and drove her knee into Holly’s belly.  Marcy dove in and hit Dana in the ribs, in the bruise from Holly’s stiletto.

“Oh, you fucking cheap shot bitch!” Dana groaned.  “Are you that fucking scared of me, Marcy?  Maybe you should just quit!”

Talk about cheap shots.  Marcy went for Dana’s throat and got it.  She bent her back over the piano, and from the reaction of the watchers closest, her face said she was going to choke Dana to death. Holly was forgotten for the moment, lying on her side cradling her breast.  My two brunettes; the sisterhood, Holly had said.

Sara’s fingers dug into my arm, tugged me away from our place lining the wall.  Rick had told me that during the fight he’d attended, the audience was somewhat, ah, unrestrained.  There was the handjob he’d gotten from the brunette, and the redhead going down on the host.  It was the same tonight, various couples in various stages of erotic stimulation as they watched.  Sara was heading for a spot among the watchers who could see Marcy’s face.

Marcy had bumped Dana fully up onto the piano’s top and was straddling her, no fucking around, full-on strangling her.  Dana’s head was tipped back, her hair spread across the dark polished wood, her tits angled out, her grip useless on Marcy’s wrists.  Sara pushed me where she wanted me and dropped to a crouch.  In three seconds she had my cock out and her lips around its base.  “Holy shit!” said the guy now next to me.

Marcy looked, without raising her head, just an involuntary flick of her eyes through her eyelashes at the sound.  Sara made a theatrical gagging sound around my cock in her throat.  Marcy made a sound I can only call a growl.  Sara slowly drew her lips back to my cockhead.  She looked at Marcy.  Her face turned tormented, broken.  “Please suck his cock,” she whimpered.  Jesus, she was a cruel actress.

Marcy put her head down, but I saw her shoulders tremble.

Then Holly had Dana’s legs, and with a tremendous backwards jerk, she pulled them both off of the piano.  Marcy pitched sideways as she toppled, and her already-damaged cheekbone hit the edge with a dull crack.  Dana hadn’t even sucked a lungful of air when her upper back and head hit the hardwood floor.  Both brunettes were stunned. 

Holly only had eyes for Dana right now.  She had her hair and dragged her around the piano in a shambling knee walk to keep up with her clicking heels.  Her destination was obvious.

She smashed Dana’s face into the keyboard.  A harsh discordant sound burst from the center of the piano.  The crowd gasped.  Even Sara stood to watch, although she kept half an eye on Marcy and her hand wrapped around my cock.  Holly lifted Dana’s face, slammed it down again, an octave lower, lifted it again.  Blood.  Another brutal chord.  Another.  Then a savage glissando that drew another gasp.  The keys were black and white and red now, but no version of the elementary school joke ended this way.   Holly turned Dana’s face up, holding her throat, and banged the keyboard lid closed on her.

Then the coup de grace, but with no mercy intended.  Holly turned Dana over again, but rather than her face she lifted her tits onto the keyboard.  She slammed the lid, and with a quick twist and hop, dropped her ass and all her weight on it.

Dana screamed like a soul in its first five minutes in hell.  Holly wriggled her ass and bounced.  She laughed.  “I like her,” Sara said in my ear.

[deity17313]

Very cool, can imagine the visuals like it's happening in front

[bcw8]

Marcy pulled herself up against the piano.  Her left eye was nearly swollen shut now.  She touched her cheekbone and winced; the side of her face was streaked with blood.

Dana was screaming.  I could see what was going through Marcy’s head:  both admiration and horror, as in I wish I thought of that, followed by Holly cannot be the one to finish Dana.  She scrambled and snatched Holly’s blonde hair, dragging her from her perch on the keyboard lid up to join her atop the piano lid.  With Holly’s weight gone, Dana slumped limply to the floor. 

Marcy’s arm locked across Holly’s throat in a choke hold.  Holly reached up and back and dug the heel of her hand under Marcy’s chin, and pressed her head back, back, back.  The veins in the brunette’s slender neck bulged, but she wouldn’t let go.  Holly’s face was darkening. She gave up on Marcy and instead pushed her hands and feet hard into the piano, inching Marcy to the side.  They toppled off and hit the floor hard, Holly on top, the air knocked out of Marcy.  Holly twisted and now they were in a two-girl missionary position.

“I had her, you fucking cxnt!” Holly shouted in Marcy’s face, blood from her lip dripping on Marcy’s throat. 

“She’s mine, bitch!” Marcy shrieked back.

Holly drove her elbow into Marcy’s eye.  “Stupid bitch, she beat you!  She’ll beat you again!  She fucked your man!”  Now her fist.

Marcy was sobbing.  “You’re fucking him too,” she said. 

“That’s right,” Holly said.  “You aren’t good enough to keep him.  And everyone in this room sees you’re the weak bitch in this fight.”  Another fist.  Marcy’s eye was nothing but a bleeding slit now.  Holly stood.  Marcy couldn’t.  Holly kicked her in the face and blood spattered on her foot and ankle.

Holly was on the side of the piano where the lid opened.  She pushed it up, with some effort, and lifted into place its prop.

“Oh fuck,” I breathed. 

“Yessss,” Sara whispered, and dropped to her crouch again.  God, her mouth was incredible.

The room, at that moment:

Rick, still standing in our original spot, looking betrayed because it was my cock in his dream milf’s mouth instead of his.  Sorry little brother.

Dana, out of her swoon, but barely.  In her fights with Holly and Marcy her tits had always been targets, but this was as bad as anything she’d ever taken, even Holly’s biting or Marcy’s slashes with a corkscrew.

Marcy, dazed, half-limp, her stomach sliding on the piano’s ribs, wet with sweat, as Holly maneuvered her breasts into place on the rim beneath the lid.

Holly, my current lover, looking at me.  Me, with my cock in Sara’s mouth.

“Oh fuck,” I said again, louder this time.

“Who the fuck is she?  Is there any slut in the room who hasn’t sucked your cock?!”  Holly shrieked.  Sara swung her hair out of her face.  “Just do the little quitter’s tits, bitch,” she said.  “We can get acquainted anytime.”

Marcy, again.  She pushed herself back, then onto Holly’s back, shoving Holly to where she’d been only a second before.

“Oh fuck!”  I’d said it three times.  Marcy slapped the lid prop away.

If you google “what does a grand piano lid weight” you learn that for big concert models, like that one, it can be more than forty-five pounds.  Lift with your legs, not your back, the internet tells you.  Excellent advice.  Because Holly had tried to jump back at the last split-second, that was what landed on her nipples alone.  Plus the weight of Marcy’s body as she flung herself onto the piano.

Dana’s scream from hell, earlier?  A soft lullaby compared to this.

Marcy scooted across the piano and dropped off the other side.  Her destination had always been Dana.  With her gone, Holly pushed the lid up and collapsed to the floor as it came back down with a bang.  Her once-pink nipples were red with blood. As she lay on her back, it ran down over her breasts, the ways lines of longitude run down a globe from the north pole.

I looked down at Sara.  She scowled that Marcy had escaped, but as long as some woman was being hurt, she wasn’t too unhappy.  I pulled her up.  “You know what,” I said.  “My life is pretty complicated now, in no small part thanks to you.  I think you should go stand with Rick.”

She stared at me, and I knew at that moment I was permanently on the enemy list.  “Fine,” she said.  “His cock is bigger.”   She left.  Monica across the room smirked at her rejection.  Rick mouthed ‘thank you’ at me when she got to him.  Like I’d done him a favor.  Crazy bitch.

Dana had made it to her knees before Marcy hit her.  She simply ran over her, pistoning her knee into Dana’s face as she went through.  My two brunettes.  They could easily have turned on Holly and finished her, but the thought never entered their minds.  Life is a series of opportunities missed, sometimes because of hate.

Marcy scooped up Dana’s bra and wrapped it around her throat.  She rolled her to her stomach and straddled her, dragging back far enough to lift her ruined swelling tits off the floor.  Marcy’s breasts and stomach heaved as she pulled.  “Choke her out!” someone shouted.  They didn’t know the backstory.  How Dana had said what Holly said a moment before: that Marcy wasn’t good enough; and that I should have married her instead of Marcy.  I knew that even if Marcy could finish Dana, she wouldn’t, until those words were erased somehow.

[SunnyB]

Oooh, what can I say?  Except that it's deliciously dirty ... 

[Lizzie]

I love the off fight reactions between Sara and Marcy, its really putting Marcy off her game.
And the grand piano press, poor Holly!

[catftluver]

Oh my, love the tit destruction! Poor Holly's nipples...

[deity17313]

Seems like they all want the mcs dick haha. Wonder what route Saras future takes.

[bcw8]

Marcy strangled Dana to the verge of passing out, then let her breathe, then did it again.  That took about two minutes.  Holly still hadn’t moved.  Marcy released her bra garrote but kept Dana’s head dragged back, kept her tits hanging.  God, what Holly had done to them.  Dana’s olive skin was dark purple.  Her big, nearly-black nipples dribbled fluid like a broken tap.  The swelling was horror-film CGI shit.

Marcy squeezed one of them.  Dana made an inhuman sound.

“It’s your choice, Dana,” Marcy said.  “Say I’m better than you.” Her voice broke a little. “Say ‘I’m sorry.’”  She was breathing hard.  “If you do, I’ll finish choking you out, quick.  No more pain.  I’ll fight Holly alone.”

She switched hands, squeezed Dana’s other breast, harder, milking a stream of that fluid onto the hardwood floor.

“If you don’t say it,” Marcy said.  “I’ll help the blonde bitch put you back on the keyboard.  I’ll sit on the other side.  For ninety seconds.”

That made a gasp run through even this hard crowd.  It made Sara go down on Rick.  It made the redhead, Monica, take her tits out for the host, who sucked her nipple into his mouth. 

“Fuck you,” Dana managed to say, barely.  Marcy squeezed harder.  Dana bucked beneath her.

“She’ll be up soon,” Marcy said.  Tears streamed from the corners of Dana’s eyes.  “No,” she whispered.  “I won’t say it.  I’m not sorry.”  Jesus.  Dana and Marcy were best friends once.

Marcy screamed in frustration.  What she wanted, more than anything, was to break Dana, to make her submit.  She knew that was worse than just losing.  She gripped both of Dana’s tits, both hands, keeping her upper body bent back with just that grip.  Dana’s nipples pointed out at wide angles, the fluid now mostly blood, now pulsing.

No one in the crowd warned Marcy.  She didn’t hear Holly’s footsteps.  Dana’s bra was a garrote again, this time in the hands of a vengeful blonde.  Holly tore Marcy off of Dana’s back the way you rip a band-aid off, a quick, violent rip.  She dragged her across the floor, her ass bouncing, feet scrabbling, her dark curls in her rapidly darkening face.  Back to the piano.

Using the noose on her neck, Holly banged Marcy’s face into the black glossy lacquer, then threw her on top of the instrument.  She climbed up after her, never releasing any of the choking torque on the brunette’s neck.

The top of the piano was about a meter off the floor.  Holly is about 5’3”.  That meant that when she turned, lifting Marcy off her feet, her shoulders in Marcy’s back like a fulcrum, she had the center of Marcy’s gravity something like eight feet above the hardwood floor.  The bra was her leverage.  She flung Marcy off the platform

Marcy hit the floor at an awkward angle of her head, neck, and shoulder.  Fuck, I thought Holly might have broken her neck, but she moved.  Holly climbed down, pulled the forgotten bench from under the keyboard, and positioned it where she wanted.  The bra was still around Marcy’s neck.  Holly twisted it tight again.  Dragged her up again.  Threw her off again.  This time, so that her lower back landed across the solid oak bench.  This was not a fake pro-wrestling table, rigged to collapse.  Marcy’s head banged against the floor on one side, her knees, curled under, on the other.  In the center, her spine bent like a bow.

Holly sat down, heavily, still atop the grand, then slumped to her side.  The effort had made her head spin.  We all watched, hushed.

Marcy lay unmoving, except for twitches in her outflung arms.

Dana stirred, and sobbed in sudden pain.

Holly tried to steady her breathing, cradling her bleeding nipples.

The triangle is the simplest shape, other than perhaps the circle.  If you break it, what’s left?

Holly pushed up to her hands and knees.  So did Dana.  They looked at each other, and then at Marcy. 

All three on their knees, Dana held Marcy in a full nelson.  Holly hit her.

“Two on one,” the host said, lifting his face from his trophy wife’s tits long enough to pronounce it.  “Ninety seconds.”

Holly spent a minute beating Marcy’s tits.  Then twenty seconds on her eye.  Dana dropped her with a few seconds to spare.  She and Holly faced each other over Marcy’s limp body. 

“Just like the beach,” Dana said.  She spit, blood and saliva, on Holly’s tits.  They lunged together.

[tr0tz]

What a battle, what a war!

With Marcy out of the fight, I'd see Ron have sex with her, with his ex, in the middle of that big room. Maybe for the last time ever, in case she loses. While Dana and Holly continue their fight. And while Sara is torn between intervening or waiting for another opportunity to take on tonight's winner.

[Lizzie]

I'll never look at a piano in the same way.