The case of the missing model Episode 9
By the Masked Writer
After my crushing defeat at the hands of blonde terror Noemie, I walked with difficulty out of the arena, with the crowd insulting me and jeering at me. I must admit, once in my cell, I cried like a baby, then slept.
Now it has been another week of part-time training, part-time work in the filed of this place the call “the farm”. I had a few occasions to talk to Catherine Johnson, still aching from the last beating she took. I told her what the blond had told me before putting me to sleep : “You’ll be out soon”. She is just as much at a loss to guess what that means as I.
By the way, I noticed that Noemie is now the Master’s couple new bodyguard. She sure can do it. I see her standing behind the Master’s couple seat.
Because now we are back at the Mansion. We both wear silky bathrobe. Hers is blue, mine is gold. Under them we wear black pantyhose. Nothing else.
The living room has been rearranged and there is a series of couches around it, with friends and cronies of the Master and Mistress sitting on it. Various girl do the service : bringing drinks and food and letting the men grope them. A gym mat of about 12 ft by 12 covers the floor.
We hardly had time to recover from the bruises and pains of our defeat. Tonight, here we go again.
Catherine looks terrified, which is understandable, considering the beating she took in her previous fight. She can’t have a lot of confidence, even if I tried my best to boost it since yesterday when we learned another fight was coming. And what kind of fight it would be.
Two seats are waiting for us. Two other seats are already occupied. A woman and a man. The woman has the longest legs I ever saw. Can’t see much of her body with the brown bathrobe she is wearing but her legs seems pretty muscular under white nylons. She is black with short curly hair.
The other character is a guy, what’s more a dwarf. Much less than five feet. No hair, black beard. Age ? impossible to tell. Can’t see his legs.
The Master gets up from the couch. With difficulty, I notice. This guy is a fat blob. Then, with his oily, weirdly agreable, voice, he starts the presentations.
At the same time, one girl pushed Catherine to get off her seat and near the mat. The dwarf does the same on the other side. I notice Catherine seems less frightened. Of course. We had been told one of us would fight fight a man. But she is not particularly impressed by the midget who’s head doesn’t even reach her breast.
But the Master speaks :
-My friends, here is our first match tonight ! You have seen our first contestant before : at 63 years old, 5 ft 9 and 123 pounds, Catherine Johnson !
Boos and hisses, again. Catherine takes off her robe, showing her, long slender body, with her small, flat, flabby breast.
-Her opponent : at 4 ft 6 , 100 pounds, our favorite : Little James “Bruiser” Callaghan.
Then he takes his robe off, wearing shorts. Wow ! He maybe short but he is a bundle of muscle. Neck, arms, shoulders are bulging with muscles that moves like big balls of oily steel under his pale skin.
This guy is a wrestler, our at least an athlete of some sort. Dwarf or no dwarf.
Somebody rings a bell and both opponents walk on the mat and start circling each other. Then I see a smile on Catherine’s face. The fear is gone ! She doesn’t take the little guy seriously ! I want to warn her but it is too late. As he makes a step towards her,
she reaches out and puts her hand on his forehead, holding him, she believes, at a distance. At first he plays along and makes it look as he is trying to reach her but his arms are much too short. The audience laugh and boos. And then he grips the woman's wrist firmly with his short, massive fingers. Abruptly, he twists her wrist, pulling towards him. Catherine dives head first and performs a very involuntary pirouette to land abruptly on her back. A painful sigh comes out of her mouth as air is forced out of her lungs.
The dwarf laughs and execute a series of cartwheel around Catherine who tries to take her breath back and get back on her feet. She is not smiling anymore.
As, once on her feet, she stands up, the dwarf rushes over her, head first, hitting her in the belly with his bald head. Catherine's knees flex as she bends in half in pain and "Little Bruiser" grabs her legs with his short, muscular arms, causing her to fall back.
The dwarf then jumps on her, pinning her to the ground with all his weight and he grabs her biceps with his hands He holds her to the ground and she moans in pain as her opponent's massive fingers dig into the weakly muscled flesh of her arms.
She then tries to arch her body to lift him up and throw him away but he is too heavy, his weight being distributed on a short body. She tries to catch him with her legs, to no avail. He could finish this righ now, instead of what, he releases her biceps and tries to cath her wrist. There, Catherine’s superior range allows her to free her righ arm and she puts her hand in the dwarfs ugly face and pushes him back. But then he catches her wrist and twist it cruelly. She owls in pain. The little man then pins both her wrists on the mat and, holding both wrist in one hand, starts pinching Catherine’s breast and licking her face. I then understand that he did not change tactics by lack of experience but he wants to humiliate her !
As she feels the dwarf’s tongue on her face, Catherine begins to struggle frantically, unable to release her opponent's grip. Suddenly, it is the dwarf who owls in pain. He got his face too close to Catherine’s and she bit his left ear ! Attagirl ! The man lets go her wrists and puts his pudgy hands on her face, literally tearing himself from her. Not without leaving a little piece of his ear between Catherine’s teeth. Blood his flowing on the side of his face. He rolls away from Catherine, who rolls on the side and starts to rise on all four, trying to get up, struggling against obvious fatigue.
But the dwarf is literally enraged by pain and she is barely standing up that he rushes towards her, slip behind her and catches both her ankles. He brutally pulls them sending her, face first, on the mat. He then jumps on her back, grabs her left arms and twist it behind her back in a chicken wing. She screams in pain and he grabs her air, forcing her face on the canvas. He then puts his knee on her folded arm and start punching her between the shoulder blades. I can hear her moan. She tries to lift herself with one arm but the weight of the runt plus hers is too much for her weak muscles.
Once again, the bruiser could end this right now but instead, choses to let go his hold on his helpless victim. He releases her arm and stand up, getting away from her.
Is he going to attack again ? No, this time something new happens. I hear a woman’s voice.
-Stop ! She is mine!
I look. It is the Mistress who just spoke. She gets up from the couch, in her usual dominatrix gear, and walks towards the center of the mat. The dwarf goes back to his seat.
Painfully, heavily, a sweat covered, hard-breathing, tears-blinded Catherine gets on her feet.
-My turn, now! Says the Mistress. I see what she wants now : her revenge for the time Catherine dared to fight her.
Before the exhausted Mrs Johnson could raise a hand in defense, the Mistress violently strikes her with a back hand to the face. Catherine has no fight left in her. She falls to the ground, sprawling out full length. She looks almost limp, yet the Mistress stars kicking her in the ribs. Catherine meekly tries to protect herself with her arms. Then the Mistress straddles her, turns her flat on her belly and grabs her chin, going for a camel clutch. The hold is clumsy but Catherine doesn’t have enough strength left to offer even a semblance of resistance.
-Give up! Said the Mistress. I can hear Catherine’s almost extinct voice whisper :
-I give!
Then the Mistress orders her to beg her, to say “I am a weakly slut” and Catherine obeys to everything.
Then the Mistress let go her victim and stand up, raising her arms. The public cheers her.
Two girls come and literally drag Catherine off the mat, on a nearby cot. They give her some water but I have no time to observe how they care for my client. The voice of the Master resounds again :
-Time for our next fight !
Somebody pushes me in the back. I know. It’s my turn. So I walked on the mat and disrobe, offering to all those eyes the spectacle of my naked D-cup. In front of me, the tall girl rise up. And then I feel a sudden surge of cold sweat. To me she looks at least 7 feet tall. I am terrified.
To be continued.
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