You see, my droogies, the problems with the Dirty Pair went into overdrive right when I tried to outsmart them into having sex with me. You may be familiar with the old saying, “Live by the sword, Die by the sword”? It was such in my case.
Fucking Ina in the mat room during Tara’s total domination of Buri only whetted my appetite for more sex with the Amazon. Looking back on it, I should have made a break for it right after that happened. The unholy trio of catfighters became obsessed with each other in the bedroom, spending all night licking, scratching, and caressing each other. Their catcalls kept me awake even though I slept in another room. Even though I wanted to join them, and Tara still loved my cock, I was having to complete with Ina and Buri for her attention. Tara was so fucked out by her nightly silicone sandwich of femizonian flesh, that she wasn’t very forceful when it came to ordering them to screw me. Buri hated me even more than Ina had, and together, their will solidified their cunts closed to my cock.
When Tara wasn’t around, Ina and Buri were inseparable, and had almost no use for me, other than to cook and clean for them. I still handled the business end of things at this point, but Buri questioned my actions constantly, and started to take part of this responsibility away from me.
I still felt that I had some connection with Ina, after our last time together. And she was another sexual fantasy fuck that had been actualized for me, only to be yanked away. More the anything, the quest of conquering her kept me in that house. The blackmail was my own petty excuse to forgive my guilt over the thought of Trang in a Mexican prison.
I tried to analyze what it would take to make Ina feel lustful towards me once more. As I watched them wrestle together in the downstairs room, as a prelude to their lovemaking, I received my inspiration. Why not challenge her to a fight, the loser gets the other in bed? Figuring this to be the only factor that might get Ina excited with a man, I gambled that I might be having sex, either way, win or lose. I worked out diligently for two weeks before I approached the blonde.
“You must be joking!” Ina exclaimed, laughing.
“Well, I do outweigh you by 50 pounds,” I replied. “What’s the matter? You afraid?”
“Take him, Ina,” Buri hissed, eyes glittering with contempt for me.
Oh, how foolish and naïve I was. And especially stupid to try it without Tara around.
I started out fighting her in my briefs, my cock expanding through the cloth. One minute later, the hard-on was ebbing, as Ina had me totally pinned. Showing mercy, she gave me a second chance. I did the best that time-lasted for five whole blasted minutes before she made me submit. Buri goaded Ina on and on, to give me a third and a fourth try, each time bending my bones to the point of a break.
Finally, after 20 minutes of wrestling, I could take no more, and cried out to Ina: “Please! Mistress Ina, I totally surrender! I am yours!”
Ina let me unravel against the mat. The blue surface felt so cool against my body and face. I never dreamed that wrestling her would be so tough.
The two hellcats erupted in laughter. “Mistress Ina! I like the sound of that!”
“Let’s fuck his brains out!” Buri exclaimed, running out of the room.
Ina removed her underwear and my own, and dived on top of my naked body. I remember getting instantly rigid as her firmly rounded breasts slid up my sweaty stomach.
“I’ve wanted to do this to you,” Ina whispered, in-between soft kisses, “ever since Tara allowed you to take me in the ass!” She pressed my hands tightly against the floor, even though I was weaker than a kitten, and could not have possibly fought back.
On the contrary. I was loving it far too much. Especially when Ina started to rub her vagina against my cock and ordered me to kiss her big titties.
“Take me, mistress!” I said, playing the gig for all it was worth.
“Oh, don’t worry, big boy,” Buri said, walking back into the room. “She’ll take you for all you’ve got. Flip him over, baby.”
Ina gripped my shoulders, and we rolled over together. She fitted my cock into her vagina and soon I was pumping her, in the classic missionary position. I heard Ina groan with pleasure and look over her shoulder.
This is it, bitch, I thought. I’ve finally outsmarted you.
Then I felt the pain in my ass and I yelled.
Buri was boring into my butt-hole with a strap-on dildo from behind.
I tried to get away, but Buri’s claws dug into my back and pushed me down flat on top of Ina. Ina gripped my arms and clamped her legs around my own. Buri thrust the dildo inside me again, harder, and laughed.
“C’mon, lover! Push it!”
Ina kissed me excitedly. “Thrust, you dick-headed jerk! Thrust! Keep thrusting, or we’ll make it even worse.”
The pain was unbelievable. They had used no lubrication whatsoever, not that it would have been more pleasurable even with that. But my asshole became a red and bloody raw mess.
My erection did not die down. I thrust into Ina, following the movement of Buri’s hips.
“More!” Buri commanded, gripping a headful of my hair. She pulled my head back and bit my ear. “Deeper, fuck-head!” Her pelvis thrusted deep into my asshole, and my cock followed likewise into Ina.
I screamed, in agonizing pain.
Ina screamed, in orgasm.
Buri screamed and laughed, her humiliation of me complete. Finished, the dark haired amazon threw me to the side, like a discarded tampax wrapper. She lunged on top of Ina and the two started kissing and fondling.
My ass on fire, I laid on the mat, gulping in air, tears running down my face. The pain. How could Trang ever have stood so much pain?
I limped upstairs, to my room, and took a shower. The water seared my ass and stopped the bleeding a bit. Loading up my butt with salve, I popped 6 aspirins in my mouth, put on my clothes, and fled out the window.
Blackmail or no blackmail, it was time to leave these bitches. I had the Fever fucked cold right out of me.
At the bar of the Stardust Hotel, I slung alcohol down my throat in attempt to numb the pain out of my mind. Pressing a cold, sweating glass against my forehead, I prayed to God and promised to be a good boy if I could just get out of the mess I was in.
“You don’t look so good, pal,” A man sat down next to me and touched my shoulder.
I ran my hand over my face and looked at him. He was a chubby, balding guy in an expensive suit. “I’ve had a rough day.”
“Anything I can help you with?”
I laughed in my drink then. What is it? I wondered. You get fucked in the ass and suddenly all the fags want a piece of you. “I don’t think so.”
“Dan Bonapart.” He stuck out his hand to me. “And you are Gil Versace. Not related to the clothing store, I take it.”
I looked at his hand for a moment and shook it. What the hell. “Look, I’m a bit bummed out right now.”
“I can see that. But I have been looking for you for a while now. I’m an associate of Mr. Lustiricci.”
The hair on my neck raised as I heard that name. I took a swig of my alcohol.
“He ain’t too pleased with you, my friend,” Bonapart said. “Operatin’ a cheap catfight outfit here, without his okay. Maybe you t’ought Orleans with his only location? No, my friend. The entire fuckin’ catfightin’ world is his playground.”
I resisted the urge to pee in my pants. “Hey, I didn’t know! It was Tara–“
Bonapart held up his hand to shush me, as he lit a cigar and took a drag from it. “We don’t care what the reason was. Don’t fuckin’ organize another fight again w’tout cuttin’ us in on a piece of the action. Capeesh?”
“I get the message.” I gulped down the rest of my drink.
“Good. Lustricci asked me to give you this.”
He pulled out a thin and tattered blue piece of paper and laid it down beside my glass. I stared at it for a minute, blinking my eyes. I held it in my hand and saw that it was a letter, the type you often receive from foreign countries. It was addressed to me, in care of Mr. Lustiricci, on the front.
The handwriting belonged to Trang.
“I’m real sorry about what happened to your girl, pal. Mr. Lustiricci sends his condolences, too. I want to assure you that this letter was read by only two people-Mr. Lustiricci and myself. We had a bit of trouble finding you at first. We’ve been looking ever since one of our kickboxers was killed in New Orleans four months ago.”
“I know what happened. This monster Filipina called Tara killed her. If you want her-“
“Oh, we know where you live. We can find all the great cats.” Bonapart sipped a gin and tonic that had been placed in front of him. “We’ll take out Tara one day with one of our own. When we can make a profit from it.”
“A profit?” I started to get angry. “You’re going to wait to kill this bitch until the–” I stopped then. “Trang. You’re going to have Trang take her out. In your own arena.”
“Not quite. I’m afraid I can’t tell you what we have got planned.” He took something else out of his inner jacket pocket. A videocassette. “But this will show you something of what Trang has gone through recently. Make sure you read the letter first.”
He put his hand on my shoulder as he got up to leave, and stuck a business card in my shirt pocket.
“You’ll be seeing me again,” Bonapart said, “but as a business partner instead of a messenger of bad news, eh?”
After he left, I ordered another drink and tore open the letter.
Please help me to get this letter to Gil. I have no idea where that Jackal has fled to. If you can do me this favor, perhaps I can repay you by killing that fucking Filipina bitch in your arena.
You son of a bitch. I am laying on a dingy cot in a Mexican prison right now-where the hell are you? Fucking Tara in her fat ass and getting off on it? You know how bad prison is down here, asshole? Take about every prison movie you’ve ever seen and make it ten times worse. I’ve had to fight for my life here from the very beginning. I’ve woken up to find rats running around my bunk. I’ve fought off male rapists. I have lice in my hair and suffer from malnutrition.
You’re probably living it up real cushy with Tara.
You put me here. I hate you.
I want you to know how bad it is. I want you to suffer for what I am going through.
The Mexican police don’t believe I killed Tara, funny enough. But they think I was some kind of accomplice to the crime. After a week in a Cancun prison, they transferred me to this larger women’s penitentiary, where-ha!-I am waiting for the trial. Which might happen just after the year 2000.
I walked down the hall to my cell that first day, listening to all the catcalls in Spanish. I don’t have to speak the language to know they are all hungry for a fresh piece of meat. Especially if it’s foreign and exotic. They put me in a cell with a dark-skinned brute named Xuxa. Xuxa is about 30, looks almost 40, only comes up to my chin, but outweighs me by about twenty-five pounds. When I walked into her cell, she spouted a whole bunch of garbage in Spanish at me and just pointed to my bunk. After that, she just sat down and glared at me the rest of the day.
When the lights went out at night, Xuxa made her move on me. While I was washing my face, Xuxa thought this would be a good time to smash my head into the mirror. Except that I was ready for the bitch. I had braced myself against the sink and kicked back with my foot, jabbing her hard in the ribs. I could see what remained of her smile as I turned to face her in the dim cell. Xuxa thought I might give her a good challenge.
I didn’t fool around. I smacked her hard in the mouth, to the left, and then the right, throwing her head back in-between the bars of the cell. I reached through the bars, grabbed her hair, and rattled her head between the metal posts like a ping-pong ball. I stepped back and watched her pull her head out of the cage dizzily.
“Submit, bitch!” I commanded, my hands on my hips.
Xuxa roared and charged me. I leapt upwards and encircled her throat with my thighs, and brought her crashing down to the hard floor. Xuxa groaned as I heard her throat crush against the hard prison floor. I boston-crabbed Xuxa’s legs backward as I sat on her shoulders, until she learned the meaning of submission.
Then I fucked Xuxa real hard and kept her as my bitch from the point onward. She became a pretty good watchdog for me. Too good, in fact.
Following that, there were almost daily fights in the yard or the laundry room. Most of them boring stuff, women I took out in three hard punches or less. I developed a rep very fast, and some of the women began to admire and respect my talents.
I suppose that was when Mina got word that I was out for her turf. Mina was a lighter-skinned Mexican, about 5’3″, medium sized breasts, toned legs, and wiry arms. Physically, she didn’t look as tough, but when I locked onto her eyes, the exchange of catlust was immediate. I knew this lady was tough and unpredictable. I instantly wanted to fight and win her in my bed.
Mina shoved me in the line for dinner one night, and I fell onto the floor.
“I’m coming for you, chica!” Mina whispered into my ear, and punched my kidney. “Tomorrow, bitch!” She yelled as the guards pulled her off my body.
I assumed the attack was going to come in the yard the next day. But it happened in the morning. Xuxa watched my back, as I soaped myself clean in the shower. Xuxa tapped my shoulder, and I turned around. Mina stood across from me, naked, her erect nipples jutting out of her long, wet, brown hair. Her eyes radiated catfury towards me. An audience of a couple dozen naked prisoners lined the square shower room. Someone must have bribed the guards, because I couldn’t see any past the doorway. They kept the shower heads running so that it would block out the sounds of the fight.
I felt a chill go through my spine as I saw what was in Mina’s hand. A small switchblade, length of about three inches.
Remembering my Cat Cult training, I turned the passive fear into angry power. I crouched, and began to circle Mina, with my forearms held out to protect myself.
“Gonna gut you, chink!” Mina hissed. She spoke English very well. I knew she had to be a Mexican-American. “Gonna cut that tigress tattoo right off your butt and hang it on my wall!” Mina slashed the knife at me with her right hand, and I kept evading it as fast as I could. “It’s gonna be so sweet!”
Mina jabbed the knife at my throat and I blocked it with my left forearm. I’ll never, so long as I live, forget what happened next.
Mina jumped up and executed a flying spin kick. Her foot came whizzing a breath away from my nose, as I leaned backward just in time.
But there was a water trail from her foot. The water smacked me hard in the eyes, blinding me for a few seconds.
It was the opening Mina must have waited for. Little, shower fighting bitch!
She hugged her left hand around my waist and squeezed my bun. Then Mina jabbed the switchblade into the back of my left thigh, right below the ass. I screamed like bloody hell.
Mina rubbed her cunt up against mine, and said: “Now you’re mine, chica!” And she bit my left tit like she was a lioness eating raw meat.
I stumbled forward, tripping, and I fell on top of Mina on the wet shower floor. I reached backward to pull out the knife.
“No, chica!” Mina shouted, shoving the knife down harder, and twisted it. “You ain’t going no where!”
The pain, Gil. I thought I was going to die! Or going to lose my leg forever. I was so afraid at that moment, as I saw Mina’s face laughing at me. She thought I was finished. But I let the pain she gave me drive me onward! I roared, at her, at you, at Tara, at every fucking thought and person that led me to that shower, and grabbed Mina’s wrist, wrenching the knife out of my ragged leg. I wrenched Mina’s hand so hard, the knife went spinning on the floor. Xuxa dove for it and wrested it out of the grip of the other women.
My hands locked with Mina’s as we wrestled for control on the shower floor. Her body was so alive, so electric, fighting and wrapping itself around mine, as I struggled to use my weight against her.
You know how sick you made me, Gil? Catlust was still uppermost on my mind as I grapple with Mina for my life! She bit into my throat with her jaws. It took me by surprise, allowing Mina to flip me over on my back. Cold water from a shower head spattered against my forehead as she pressed my arms flat against the floor. I could feel her teeth tearing into my skin and drawing blood.
My adrenaline roared again, as I quickly got on my hands and knees, and rammed Mina’s back into the shower wall. Three times, even knocking her head into the wall, and still that bitch refused to release her jaw! I punched Mina’s tits and her cunt, and she finally released her biting. I quickly stood up and raised Mina’s stunned body above my head. I rammed the small of her back into my knee in a back-breaker move. I don’t know how I managed it with my wound, but hearing Mina’s silent cry as her spine hit my bone was almost enough payback.
The little mexican catfighter was then like a rag doll in my arms. I wasn’t going to let this moment pass by, Gil, not after so foolishly giving Tara an opportunity to beat me. I am never, ever going to make that mistake in my life again! I hauled Mina up over my shoulders again, and threw her with all my might down to the other side of the shower room. Mina’s body smashed hard against the wall, and I could see her shivering from the impact as her body hit the tiled ground.
I started to walk over to Mina to make her formally submit, but my leg moved slowly. I looked back and saw a slow river of blood leaking out. Half the shower floor was now pink as my blood mixed with the water. I sank to my knees, suddenly exhausted.
I heard a scream and looked up, fearing that Mina was attacking me again. But it was not Mina. It was Xuxa.
Xuxa leapt upon Mina’s naked body, and jabbed the switchblade a half a dozen times. Mina screamed also, her hands trying to stop Xuxa, but her blood kept flying out from her chest and smacking into Xuxa’s face.
“Cheating whore…” Mina whispered, right before she died.
Xuxa stood up and washed the blood off her body as her fellow inmates circled around Mina’s body.
“Fucking chica!” I yelled at Xuxa. “Stupid, dumb, Mexican, bi-“
Her foot smashed my jaw and my body whipped around on the floor. Xuxa stood over me and smashed my head again twice with her foot. I passed out from the stress and the shock.
When I awoke in the prison infirmary, as poor as it was, somehow I was stitched up enough to stop the bleeding and given enough pain killers to make life bearable. I slept for a day until the Warden came to see me.
He told me he would add Mina’s murder to my sentence unless I became his mistress.
I told him that if I ever had his dick in my mouth, I would make him look like an gringo called Bobbitt. The Warden smiled anyway.
They let me stay in the infirmary for two weeks. I figured out that Xuxa must have set up the whole goddamned thing. Xuxa had paid me back for my humiliation of her, had gotten her rival Mina out of the way, and had removed me as part of the same fight. What a cunning and dishonorable little bitch! I plan to her back for this one day.
At the end of my infirmary stay, the Warden came back to see me.
“I’m not ever fucking you,” I warned him. “So don’t waste your breath.”
The Warden laughed again. “No tanks, I don’t come for fack, senorita! I came to tell you thees…I am gonna let you outta pree-son day after tomor-row!”
I couldn’t believe he was serious. “This is a fucking sick joke.”
“No joke, chica. You see, some very POWER-ful people have heard of your repu-shay-shion. Heard about the Chinese cat-woman, the sexy chica who KEELded two women since she came to Mehico. People come to Mehico Cee-tee, pay beeg money to see you, fight in aree-na. Fight another bitch to death!”
“I won’t fight anyone unless I get my freedom in return.”
“Oh, senorita,” the Warden said, laughing. “You get freedom. You win, go free. Lose, doesn’t matter, ’cause you’ll be dead. Thees bitch you’re fighting, she has keelded many before.”
My body started to tingle with the anticipation of such a fight. Perhaps foolishly, since my leg is still tender and inflexible, even as I write this. “And who is this…bitch?”
“Thees ees the best part,” the Warden said, now the guards accompanying him were slapping their knees in laughter, too. The Warden wiped away some tears from his face. “The chica you killed. Een the shower. Her sister ees Who-lia Montoya!”
I shrugged. “Never heard of her.”
“Who-lia, Julia, Montoya ees better known een your kon-try as…La Matadora!”
A streak of fear ran through my heart, which hasn’t even fully stopped now. Julia Montoya is the Mexican fuck fighter that Helen had faced a few times. Someone who had shit-kicked her can once, and would probably be a tough challenge for me, even when I am perfectly healthy.
“Rest up, senorita,” the Warden said, laughing and pinching my cheek. “I geeve you plenty of food and drink unteel the fight. Gym ees yours for training. Fight good! Because, eef you can last for fifteen minutes before Matadora slay you, I win beeeeeeeeeg!”
I don’t know if I hate any man more than the Warden, Gil, except for you. I am going to find him one day and shove his dick down his throat, followed by the money he wins on me.
So that’s what has happened to me, Gil. It’s morning now, and I will fight La Matadora tonight at midnight. I’ve trained in the puny room they call a gym, which couldn’t even make Kathie Lee Gifford work up a sweat. I’ve used it to discover my limitations. My mobility is shot to hell. I can stand on my wounded leg for a few good kicks, but better forget about running or leaping. I can still squeeze with my thighs and choke the bitch if I am lucky enough to trap her. I’ve still got my punching power, thank god. Only the Cat Goddess knows if this is enough to help me withstand La Matadora’s incredible fury. She sounds like she’s a mean bitch on a normal day.
Maybe I can convince her that I didn’t kill her sister, Mina.
Yeah, and maybe Tara will understand the Theory of Relativity soon.
I don’t know how I am going to get out of this, Gil. But I am going to get out of Mexico one way or another. I am going to survive, because I am going to be thinking about you and Tara. About how Tara’s body is going to look when I break her back over my knee. And then how you are going to look, once I catch you in my claws and show you my contempt for your weakness and treachery.
I’ve had a lot of time here to think about you, Gil. What a rat you are! Do you know what Cats do to rats?
Was it worth it, Gil? Bringing Morgan into our home? Showing me how to seduce and fight Linda? Encouraging me to fight Helen? Taking me to the Philippines and hoping that Tara would pound the shit of me for a fuck fetish? Oh, it was part of my nature, you will say. You only brought to the surface what was already there, you will think, excusing yourself in your little fuck-pad with that Filipina bar-girl. But there are ugly parts in everyone that are better left buried.
I want you to think about that. Was it worth it? Ask yourself that when you see me in person next.
When you see the Cat that you have let out of the bag.
I clenched Trang’s letter in my hand in an effort to destroy it. But the strength had left my body upon reading her words. It might has well have been a solid steel bar.
My heart felt like it had fallen to the floor. Oh, God, what have I done to Trang? I thought. What did I do to the sweet, uncomplicated woman that I had met in the gym, who nothing more than to love me? To love me without any kinky fetishes. I should never have hired Morgan to claw the Fever into her body. It had ruined the both of us.
It seemed like there was little hope of my seeing her again at that point. She might not have survived the fight with Matadora. Bonapart had given me no indication that she had. He had given me nothing…
…but the tape laying on the bar counter. Of course, the tape had the recording of the fight in the arena in Mexico City!
My only dim hope of seeing Trang again lay in the promise of her pounding the shit out of that Mexican hellcat. I could only pray that with time, her feelings towards me would soften and change, as they had in the past after a terrible fight. Plus, having Trang take out Tara would be the only way I could be finally free of the Filipina and her Dirty Pair.
Stuffing the tape and the letter in my jacket pocket, I left the bar at the Stardust. Checking with the clerk in the lobby, I found no available rooms with VCRs in them. I wandered out into downtown Vegas, searching for another cheap hotel room with a VCR, but came up short at the first three I tried.
I stopped at a market to grab some coffee. I was losing energy from being butt-fucked and half-drunk. I sipped the cheap coffee in the mini-mart, and my eyes wandered over the newspapers near the counter. One of the headlines on the front page of the National Inquirer caught my eye:
HOLLYWOOD CATFIGHT ON MEDITERREANAN ISLAND! See Page 22.
The Fever hadn’t left my brain entirely, I suppose. I saw some blurb about Victoria Sensible fighting Raquel Walsh, and knew I had to have that issue. No matter how faked it was. I had to piss too bad to read the rag right then, so I threw a couple of dollars at the clerk and took off with the Enquirer in my hand.
I still wasn’t sure if I wasn’t just so worn out that I was seeing catfighters everywhere. I walked dizzily down the street and waited for what seemed like forever for a stop light to turn green.
Just as it did, I felt my throat constricted by a pincer grip, complete with long day-glo pink fingernails.
“Gil, you stupid.”
I didn’t have to turn my head to know it was Tara. I started to cry out for help, but she butted my head into the lamppost. It was late at night and no other pedestrians were on the street. My legs went limp as I held my head, but Tara lifted me off my feet with one hand.
“Fool! You belong to Tara forever. Think she let you go?” The minivan we had bought a month ago screeched to a halt to the side of us. Ina was driving. The side door was already open, with Buri holding the handle. “Now Tara must punish you, like dog!” The Filipina thrust me into the van like a sack of potatoes.
I landed hard on the seat. I heard the door slam shut, and saw the auburn haired butt fucker’s smirking face in front of me.
“Lights out, lover-boy!” Buri exclaimed, cocking back her right arm.
After her fist had broken my nose, I vomited onto the carpet, and fainted.