My name is Helen and I grew up on a small cattle ranch my family owned back in Nevada. The kind that was dying then, but my Dad was too proud to sell to the one of the big companies. He loved it, so much that he let the ranch die little by little, over the course of our childhood. He had been married before, and I had a half-brother named Buck, about 7 years my senior.
Buck was gorgeous. Shouldn’t any man be if he had that name?
He was the excuse for my first catfight.
I’d always been a tomboy. Never afraid of shoving around other boys or girls at school during the recess. My Mom died when I was young. About the fourth or fifth grade. I didn’t cry about it. Instead, I found the school bully, big Tommy Wilkins. Not big because he was strong, just taller and fatter and meaner than the other kids. I picked a fight with him one day after school, just to release my rage over losing Mom. He bloodied my nose, but I didn’t mind, since I had knocked out one of his teeth, blackened his eye, and made him eat the dirt and submit to me in front of all the other kids before I let him go. Tommy went from being the schoolyard bully to the school nerd overnight.
I remember I came into puberty about that time or shortly thereafter. I’d touch myself at night and think about that fight sometimes. I’d think about Buck, and his broad shoulders and lean legs coming naked out of the bathroom, a thin towel draped around his waist. I’d think about those bimbos that he dated, with their big breasts and condescending looks. I’d stroke myself and think about slapping one of them around, provoking them into a wrassle fight. I’d strip her shirt off and pinch her titties so hard, she would submit to me just like Tommy did.
Always, always in front of Buck. In my fantasy, he’d get so aroused that he’d fuck me right after I won.
I had had sex by the time I was 18. One of the hired hands at the ranch poked me a few times in the barn, but I really didn’t see what the fuss was all about. I didn’t even have an orgasm, they were so bad at it. Even when I closed my eyes and pictured Buck, it didn’t help much.
My life really changed when Judy came to work at the ranch. Judy was 24, a blonde about my size with big tits and a firm butt. She was almost as much of a tomboy as me. My Dad was so desperate for labor around the ranch, that he had to hire a woman. She arrived one morning with her titties bursting out of a red-checkered shirt, all tied up at the waist, to expose her flat, tanned belly. Her goldilocks were tied at the back in a pony-tail, and her teeth so white when she smiled, she could have sold toothpaste or lipstick on TV. Of course, Buck flew out the door to show her to the barracks, and around the ranch on horseback, ooglin’ her bare legs in the cutoff jeans all the while.
I hated that bitch the minute she arrived.
It was Judy this, Judy that, every time Buck opened his mouth. It was all the worse when I had to work with her. She started ordering me around, like she knew the ranch better than I did. I just knew Buck was fucking her at night after Dad had gone to sleep.
I would fantasize at night, about how great it would be to claw Judy’s breasts off. The more vicious my fantasies became, the better my orgasm was.
One late afternoon I had finished work outside, and came into the barn to put my things away. It was late fall, but I still wore cut-off jeans to keep cool, and a short sleeved shirt. I was tanned then, and pretty toned due to all the hard work. Dad and Buck had driven off to Carson City on a business trip, and wouldn’t be back until late that night.
Judy came into the barn shortly after me, wearing about the same outfit she wore the day I first saw her. She must have found Dad’s 22 caliber rifle hanging on the door, because when I turned around, Judy had it aimed right at my skull.
“Bang! Helen, you’re dead.” She laughed. “Don’t worry, squirt. The safety’s on.”
I didn’t think aiming a rifle at anyone was funny. “Put the rifle away,” I told her, “or I am going to shove it down your throat.”
Judy kept laughing and aiming the rifle at me. “Bang! Got a coke bottle to put between your legs. Betcha ten dollars I can shoot it off without hurtin’ ya!”
“That does it!” I started running for her.
Judy knew what was gonna happen then. She slung the rifle into the hay. I hauled off with a right punch that hit her square in the jaw and knocked her off her feet. She looked at me with that sly grin of hers that I hated so much.
“Well, sugar britches,” Judy said, wiping the edge of her mouth with the back of her hand, as she stood up to face me. “That was real purty. Now I am gonna say hello.”
Her fists lashed at me. I tried to block her right, and didn’t see her left coming at me. It was like being kicked in the head by a mule.
The next thing I knew, I was on the floor looking up at her.
“Well, is our little lesson for today over?” Judy asked, standing all cocky with her hands on her hips.
“No fucking way!” I yelled. I grabbed hold of her ankles and watched her butt slam down on the dirt floor. I went to get on top of her, but she lifted up those legs of hers, and caught my chest in a tight vice. I hit her once in the gut, but she caught my wrist and forced my arm down. I couldn’t believe it. She was stronger than me!
“Lookee here, missy,” Judy taunted me. “I’ve trapped ya.”
In desperation, I pulled her shoe off her foot with my free hand and started tickling. It made her squirm, release her leg vise and roll away.
We were both on our feet at the same time. We circled each other warily, watching each other’s hands, instinctively dancing around each other. I was ready to wrestle.
I never forget that feeling. Like I was alive for the very first time.
“What would Buck say if he could see you now?” I rasped at Judy. My catfire for her was strong.
“He’d lust after me more than ever darlin’. And he might even want a poke at you, cow bell!”
I lunged after her and our wrists locked. We pushed at each other in a show of pure strength, grunting and sweating there in the dusty barn. After about a minute, my arms started wobbling. Judy laughed and pulled my body with a jerk. It threw me off balance. She fell backward, putting her foot against my chest, and threw me over her head. I landed on the floor with a thud that shook my tailbone.
Enraged at what I thought was my luck, I reached to claw at Judy’s back as she was sitting up. My fingers caught the collar of her shirt, and I pulled her over to me. I grabbed hold of her hair and forced her to stand up.
“Now, Miss Sweet Judy Blue Eyes, you’re gonna see some stars.” I intended to shove her head against the post nearby.She caught my hand and pulled it down with both arms, right where she could bite down hard on it. I clawed her eyes and pulled it away. Judy ran forward, but I still had her collar in my other hand. I tugged and she just slipped out of it. Must have undone the knot in front while I was dazed.
Judy twirled to face me, her big naked breasts heaving with laughter. “Buck’s right. You’re stupid, but kinda cute.”
I lunged after her again, determined to squeeze those titties off her chest. I got lucky while her head was down avoiding my fist. I leapt on top of her, wrapping my arms around her back. Her waist was bent over her legs, pumping and shoving at me on top. But I forced her down, my arms squeezing her chest against her back. I pulled with all my strength and lifted her legs off the ground. I hoped to drop her on her head. But Judy locked her legs around my throat and squeezed. Hanging off me, upside down, Judy’s hands undid my the buckle on my shorts and slid them and my panties down, around my ankles.
I took hold of Judy’s arms and got ready to slam her into that post. But as I took a step forward, my legs caught on the jeans, and I fell down. I hit my head, falling down on my face.
Judy seized the opportunity and bent both my arms behind my back. With my arms and legs immobilized, I was tied up like a…
“Cow.” Judy sneered. “Say uncle.”
I spat on the floor and squirmed around, looking for a way out.
Judy’s finishing move was simple and beautiful.
She stuck her hand up my ass.
I screamed and buckled my body. It was unlike any sensation I felt before. Strange that I came to love it later. “I give! I give!”
“You’ll do anything I say?” Judy asked.
“Yes! Yes! Take the fucking hand out!”
I felt such sweet relief when she released me. My arms fell to the floor and my blood slowly returned to them.
I closed my eyes and didn’t pay attention to Judy unbuttoning my front shirt. She pulled at it from behind, and my arms extended for her to lift it off.
“What are you doing…cunt…”
Judy twirled me over then and slapped me hard on the face. “Be a nice little kitten now, sugar.”
Which is what I was. A young kitten playing with a mature cat. Just like Trang with me.
Judy took my arms and dragged my body near the post, in the middle of the barn. She took some rope, tied my hands together, and anchored me to the wooden beam. She walked around to face me, and pulled the jeans and panties off my ankles.
I now laid before her, totally nude. She looked down at me, licking her lips delightedly.
I’m not the sort of person that gets scared easy. I was then. I had no idea what Judy planned for me. I had thought she might take her belt and whip my hide.
Instead, she took off her shorts, and laid her nude body over mind. She ran her fingers over my body. Her breasts rubbed against my erect nipples.
“You…like girls?” I asked her, feeling the goosebumps crop up along my back.
“Yes,” Judy said, smiling and leaning her face close to mine. “And so do you.” Her fingers probed my vagina to find it wet as a whistle. She kissed me then, a mixture of blood, sweat, and saliva.
It was so rich. So tasty.
She backed away and looked in my eyes to see how much I enjoyed it.
Then we really went to town.
She fucked me real good. Probably one of the best fucks of my life, there on that dusty barn floor. It was certainly my first orgasm with another person. I yelled so loud, the cows probably tried to run away!
Judy untied me then and showed me how to pleasure her. I finally got to hold those big breasts, but forgot completely about twisting them off.
Life was never the same after that. I came to realize that when I felt intense hatred for a woman, it was a sexual passion.
But I couldn’t just go into a lizzie bar for a pick-up, you know? Not with my quasi-puritanical upbringing. It just felt better if I got it by getting beaten in a fight, or better yet, by dominating the other bitch to submission. It’s the true trademark of all Cat personalities. Maybe we’re just born that way.
Anyway, most of the gals I liked didn’t walk into liz joints. I liked gals who were pretty and athletic, not thin and weak. The sexier the gal was, the harder I had to fight.
After that first time with Judy, I got to fearing that I was total, one-hundred percent lizzy. I was pretty confused. Finding out that Judy was bi helped a bit, after she told me what it was like with Buck. She liked both men and women, and thought fucking between the sexes was a matter of apples and oranges.
We kept our affair secret at the ranch, of course. Judy and I would wrestle each other when the men were gone, even if they were away for just a couple of hours.
I lost to Judy every time.
Although each time I lost, I learned a new move or trick that I would collect in my brain for the next match. I’d use it on Judy and she’d counter with another new one. My desire to dominate her grew with each failed attempt. She taught me moves in bed, too, using dildos and other kinky gadgets on me on the rare occasions that we could fuck in my bed.
Judy forever taunted and teased me about Buck. He knew of my desire for him, she told me that he even thought I was kind of sexy. But he was really hung up on incest, despite the fact that we were only half-related.
After a couple of months of wrestling, Judy came up to me out in the field, and announced: “Buck knows about us.”
A chill went down my spine. I thought of my father finding out. He would hit the roof. “How?”
“I told him.” She smiled.
“Bitch! Why did you do that?” I was ready for another fight.
“Because I know Buck, slut! The other night we were at the drive-in, watching this James Bond movie. These two gypsy women come out and start fighting, clawing at each other, out for blood. Not like the real thing, but a pretty good take at it, for a movie, you know? Anyway, I’ve got my hand under Buck’s pants. His dick got real excited in a hurry during that scene. I told him I had wrassled some women, and he wanted to know all about it. I told him about our first time in the barn, and his whacker got so big. He gave me a good one. Woof!”
“He ain’t gonna tell, then.”
“Stupid cunt! He wants to watch us wrestle tonight!”
“What?” I was taken aback. My fantasies consisted of Buck watching me fight, but the reality of the situation was different. I was afraid to say yes.
“Cat’s out of the bag, sugar.” Judy ran her fingers down my arm. “You just might get lucky with that brother of yours, to boot.”
I wanted to punch her lights out right then and there, for knowing me so well. But I waited till that night.
I met them that night out in the woods, in a clearing. “Hello, Buck,” I said, like I never met him before in my life.
“Hey, baby sister.” How I hated it when he called me that. But he smiled and said, “Judy tells me she’s gonna take you out in 1 minute flat.”
“Sure as shit, sugar,” Judy said, stripping off her shirt and jeans. She wore white lace panties and bra. “And afterward, your sister’s gonna lick my little cunt, like a kitten lappin’ up a plate of milk.”
“Oh, Buck, it sure ain’t gonna be a minute,” I replied. “And it’s gonna be her throat that says ‘uncle’!”
You could have heard Buck gulp a mile away.
I stood in my black bra and panties, ready for Judy. My priorities changed in a heartbeat. I was suddenly not afraid of what Buck would think. I was so anxious to win in front of Buck, and hating Judy for wanting to tear me down in front of him.
“Whatever happens, Buck, you don’t interrupt or try to come between us. Understand?”
“Not even if Judy gets yer face all banged up and bloody?”
“No. It ain’t nothin’ that hasn’t happened before.”
“Shit, you gals are serious! Don’t know who even to hoot for.” Buck sat on the ground and waited for us to start. His thumb rubbed against his crotch.
I knew he was horny.
“Shut the fuck up, cunt, and fight!” Judy charged, and we locked arms in a test of strength. My face leaned close enough to Judy’s to bite her cheek. She lost concentration and I yanked down hard on her hair. My knee jammed into her jaw. I could see that she bit her tongue.
It didn’t stop me from punching her in the jaw.
I took pleasure in the site of blood spewing out of her mouth as she fell to the ground. I thought she was out cold.
“See Buck?” I said, walking over to him. “Not even a minute.”
His mouth was open, wanting to speak, but saying nothing. He was in shock.
I crouched in front of him and filled Buck’s mouth with my tongue.
He tasted damn good.
When he put his hands on my breasts, I knew I was no way a total lizzie. I unbuttoned his shirt and ran my fingers along his chest and shoulders.
“Helen. I thought of you…sometimes in bed…” He kissed me again.
“Me too,” I gasped, in between kisses. I was so enraptured by my fantasy coming true.
I felt something slip between my throat and then I couldn’t breathe. With a terrible wrench, I was lifted half off my feet. Judy was choking me with her bra.
“Today’s lesson,” she said through bloodied lips, “don’t turn your back on any woman, unless they submit!”
I tried to get enough leverage to throw her over my shoulder, but she kept wrenching, dragging me all over the grass. My face became the infamous shade of red that you have seen at other such times.
I reached up and grabbed her titties, squeezing with all my might. Another dream come true.
Judy yelled and let go of the bra. I slumped down and her foot smashed into my nose, a couple of times before I rolled away. It was my turn to taste blood.
I stood up, and Judy jumped on my back from the rear. “Stupid cow! Never turn your back, I said,” she hissed, biting my ear. Her legs wrapped around my waist and locked against my thighs. One claw was in my eyes and the other bit into my breasts. I fell back on the ground, but she kept up her hold, clawing and pressing.
“I’m gonna be ready for ya soon, honey,” Judy yelled to Buck. She bit my ears. Her heel thumped on my cunt. “Take off your pants!”
I saw Buck remove his underwear, stroking his dick while Judy raked me over.
I slammed my back into Judy’s gut until she released her grip. I sat up, turned around, and was ready to punch hit tits to kingdom come, when my throat was suddenly in her leg vice. Her pincer like hands gripped my wrists. I was immobilized by her again.
“Ha-ha,” Judy laughed, “Never gonna learn, are ya, kid?”
My face turned red, but from anger this time. I slowly stood up, and she hung upside down off my throat, just like the first time we fought. This time I started turning around and around, faster and faster, making her dizzy like she was on a merry-go-round.
She let go of my wrists, and I reached up to tickle her feet.
Judy flew through the air and landed a few feet next to Buck. She looked up at him dizzily, just as I grabbed a fistful of her hair, and rammed her face into the grass. It wasn’t hard enough to make much damage. I landed my knee on the small of her back with a thud and I heard her gasp.
“Don’t ever turn your back on me,” I told Judy, ramming my hand into her ass, “ever again!”
She grunted, and then I pulled on her hair, arcing her back with my knee lodged at the base of her spine. My hand was still in her butt, and I clawed at her from inside.
“Stop it! Stop it!” Judy yelled, body buckling under me. Her hands scratched at me uselessly. She was unable to get up because of my weight on top.
“So, who’s Mistress for the night?”
“And who’s cunt are you going to lick, kitten?”
“Yours! Helen! Unnnnhhh! I am yours!”
I turned her over onto her back. My cat lust was still unfulfilled.
I dove my claws into her breasts, mauling them, although lightly compared to what I do now. I mauled and bit Judy’s face, neck and shoulders. Her back arced and she tried to push me away, clawing at my butt to make me stop. But I did not. Judy’s scratching made me even hornier. I could have kept going forever, until I felt my panties getting tugged off me from behind.
Suddenly, Buck was laying on top of my back, touching me again. He kissed my neck, and whispered, “I’m hotter than Texas asphalt.”
His giant-size dong lay in between the crack in my ass. He rubbed against it and I felt the penis grow even bigger. I reached back for it and guided into my juicy cunt. I spread wider and he thrust it in slowly. I let my upper body relax against Judy’s and tasted the pleasure of being fucked by two people at the same time.
Buck was so excited that he came very quickly, but his dick remained rigid. I could tell he was excited by my butt.
“Buck,” I gasped, “Stick it in my ass. Slowly.” I reached back and opened up my cheeks for him. I felt the wonderful pain, the incredible sensation of a live cock entering my backdoor for the first time. Buck pumped me in there and I grunted and moaned, while Judy played with my breasts.
My orgasm was incredible.
Buck came once more, too.
From that point on, I wasn’t gonna be losing the Cat Scratch Fever. Hell, I never wanted to get rid of it. I never thought of it as an illness or addiction.
Judy and I fought in front of Buck two more times. Each time was more intense, both in the violence and in the sex. I won the next time, but she cleaned my clock good on the last catfight.
It turned out to be a parting gift.
Wouldn’t you know it, but ol’ Dad had to spoil it all, coming through the barn door to find Judy and Buck bucking their way on a naked hay ride. Dad insisted that Buck marry Judy, or stop seeing her. And Bucko wasn’t exactly opposed to the idea. They both seemed ready to settle down.
That signaled my exit from the ranch. Although they told me nothing would change, I knew that it would. They’d start having babies, and soon, no more fighting or fucking. I also knew there was no way in hell I could think of them fucking in the room next to mine, without joining them.
We’d explode, living all under one roof. Dad would catch us all sooner or later.
I left abruptly one day, leaving a public note behind for Dad, a more private one for my first real lovers. I hadn’t really any plans or ambitions, other than getting out of town with my meager savings. I took a bus ride to Las Vegas. I wanted to see what big city life was like. Hah! I got a job easy enough at a casino, serving drinks and showing off my rear end. I got bored there fast.
One day, driving to work, I saw a sign that perked up my interest. It read: “S.O.W. Superwomen of Wrestling!” I decided it was probably a bunch of shit, but decided to go see it anyway. It turned out to be mostly fake, an ancestor of such shows as G.L.O.W. or P.O.W.W., with characters like La Matadora, the Patriot, the Snake, Jungle Bunny, Angel Fist, and so forth. Ninety percent of it was fake.
Except when this one Mexican gal fought. La Matadora.
I could she wasn’t putting on any show. She was latin, hot-tempered, small, feisty, and knocked the beejesus out of Dreamin’ Doll at the first match I saw. I contacted the manager, talked him into an audition. I threw Jungle Bunny out of the ring in the first five minutes, and landed a permanent job.
The producers dreamed up my stage name: Hellcat.
Few people saw my performances as Hellcat in SOW. This shit played on pay cable, specialty videos, things like that. Those other TV shows aped a lot of our stuff after we were gone.
I did learn something from it, even from the faked fights. Mostly, how to take a fall properly, how to tumble, and how to move quickly.
Occasionally, it would get real. I stole Angle Fist’s boyfriend just to get her mad enough to give me a challenge a couple of times.
My biggest and best challenges always came from the Mexican-American.
She always gave me a hell of a fight. She was from a tough background. Came up to my nose. Her thick little legs were stubby and powerful, and kicked like a horse. She wasn’t that muscular, but her little shoulders packed an awesome punch. I wouldn’t say she’s pretty, with that long stringy black hair, dark complexion. Her look is rough.
I had lusted after her anyway. Not just for the sex.
For the challenge of domination.
The first time we fought on camera, she was scheduled to win. Part of this “story” the producers had worked out. But I couldn’t take it and went crazy. She fought back and tried to put me away, though she kept expecting me to leave her an out. I didn’t. She cursed at me backstage and called me so many things in Spanish. The producers wound up loving it, even though I spoiled the storyline. I thought she would just forget.
She did not. Two days later I came home and found the furniture in my apartment shoved all in one corner. La Matadora stood in my living room, wearing a g-string black bikini. Her fists were covered with black workout gloves. Her battle stance and her eyes radiated rage and catlust.
“C’mon, gringa,” she growled, “Let’s get this over with. Slavery for the weekend to the winner.”
I stripped to my underwear and gave in to the catfire.
I realized that I had longed for this type of fight since I had seen her the first time. I wanted to see what that body of hers could do, in a no-holds barred fight. And in my bed.
I stepped into the living room and God, we really went at it. This was more intense than my fight with Trang. I wasn’t ready for it at that point. The bitch hammered at me with those gloved fists, which protected her knuckles. Ten minutes later, my ass was thoroughly kicked.
I submitted to her. She kept me in bed almost the entire weekend, loving me tenderly one hour, brutalizing me the next. At the end of the experience, I was too ugly looking to go on S.O.W., and I was off for a couple of weeks.
The S.O.W. gig lasted just over a year. I must have fought Matadora a half dozen times during that period, but only won twice. Some of them you probably saw on TV or videotape.
S.O.W. did bring me enough publicity so that I could get jobs wrestling in certain clubs around Vegas. Most of these women were cupcakes, but every once in a while there would be a spitfire.
Then, some bigshot named Lustiricci came along and offered me my first caged catfight. No rules. Big money. Only one woman walks out of the cage of her own free will.
It gave me that challenge that I been looking for since Matadora departed.
In the first one, I wound up breaking the woman’s arm and collecting fifteen grand for a half-hour’s work. I went up against a kick-boxer the second time around, but I was too cocky and confidant.
I almost lost my life.
I spent several months recuperating. Part of me wanted to give up fighting, but the cat part of me had it’s claws stuck in my head. I invested time in learning some new techniques to help me fight martial artists. I had Lustiricci set up another caged fight with that same kickboxer. I wound up killing her, my first and only kill, and earning $25,000.
She had battered me close to death before I made the kill. Worse, there was no sexual release resulting from it. I could see that the Fever was pushing me in a lethal direction.
I decided to cool down. I swore off the cages, went back to wrestling and less lethal catfights.
Lustiricci’s network offered me the chance to move to Japan and do some wrestling on television, in clubs, and private matches. He knew people would pay big to see a white American take on a Japanese woman. Turns out he was a smart man.
I liked wrestling in the clubs in Tokyo and Kyoto. Some really challenging women, using techniques I hadn’t encountered before. There was usually slavery and great sex afterwards. It was one of the most fulfilling periods in my life.
I had been there about six months, when I met this young wrestler named Kamiko.
She was young and very, very, cute. She was about an inch shorter than me, but weighed almost as much. Thick boned. I wrestled her in a club the first time around, and our fight was about on the level of my first fight with Judy. I took her to bed with me afterwards, but with a cunning twist, if I say so myself. I used my hands, tongue, dildos, and oil, but I never allowed her to orgasm once. I even handcuffed her to the bed while I slept, to keep her from pleasuring herself.
“Why? Why, Mistress?” she asked me, teary eyed, hugging my waist the next morning.
“I will not pleasure you until you have made me submit in combat,” I told her.
In truth, I wanted to mold her into a better wrestler. To make her a suitable challenge for me. The best orgasms always come from the best competitors.
The next week we met again in the ring, and there was a fire in her eyes that I hadn’t seen before. I dominated her again, and repeated the pattern again of sex without orgasm. We fought in clubs twice a week for two months, repeating the same cycle, as she learned my moves and created her own.
I was in love with her then, though I did not allow my feelings into the ring. I wrestled my hardest, and on Valentine’s Day, she had me locked up and writhing on the mat.
The pain was so sweet. I submitted gratefully.
When we went home, our clothes immediately were shed and she ordered me into the bedroom. My first act was to pleasure her, and her orgasm was intense, claws flailing around my hide as she screamed with pleasure. All of Tokyo must have heard that cat call. We fucked, like cats of near equal stature, for the whole night and early morning.
“I love you, Kamiko,” I told her the next day. “Be my wife.”
“I cannot be your wife,” she replied, “until you have bested me three times in a row.”
And then we spent the next four months settling that condition. I had trained her too well, then. I often won twice in a row, but she usually bounced back the third time to make me submit. She had become a formidable challenge, though she was not lethal.
We considered ourselves married after we fought in a private match in Maui one winter. We had put on quite a show at a private home, winning ourselves an all expenses paid week in return. It turned out to be a honeymoon, as I finally whipped her butt three days in a row.
“Now I can be your wife,” she said.
“And I can be your wife, after you master the art of fighting in stiletto heels.”
So it went. Setting challenges for each other, taking turns being the wife, though it meant nothing at all, for our love was forever. I believe that is true. Even though she is apart from me now, afraid of her past, I know Kamiko still thinks of me with love, even though she tries to suppress it.
After a year and a half of bliss, an enemy from my past broke up our life together.
We had heard tales of the Mexican fighting in Kyoto, in caged black market battles financed by the Yakuza. Rumors that she had killed in these fights, or had taken slaves, or had Yakuza lovers were rampant all over Tokyo. I had the itch to take her on myself, but since I had sword off the caged fights for good reason, plus since I had my wife, I decided not to take the risk.
My mistake was in telling Kamiko about my living room battle with La Matadora. I saw the cat lust sparkle in her eye. I could practically see the gears turning in her head. What a thrill it would be to conquer someone who lashed my hide many years ago!
“Do not even think of fighting La Matadora,” I told her.
“Are you so afraid that I will lose? After your training?”
“I would be stupid not to be afraid of stepping into a cage with her, Kamiko.”
My anxiety merely fueled Kamiko’s catlust.
One day soon after that, I flew back into Tokyo, after a TV match in South Korea. A friend of ours greeted me at the gate as I emerged through customs, telling me that Kamiko had been booked for a caged fight that night.
I arrived too soon to stop it. Both women had already entered the cage naked, wearing high heels, and wearing the thin padded workout gloves. My friend told me of the conditions of the battle: win $30,000 US by submission to lifetime slavery, or by death.
The battle lasted twenty-five minutes, though it could have been twenty-five hours to me. It concluded with La Matadora’s face slashed, hip fractured, and toe broken. Kamiko had been a great fighter.
But the Mexican just wore her down over time.
Matadora had smashed Kamiko’s face against the chain fence, towards me, tears streaming down her bloody face. Her left arm was fractured, and right leg paralyzed. Matadora had twisted Kamiko’s right arm, just to the breaking point, when my lover begged, pleaded, and finally submitted.
I screamed and lunged for Matadora, through the cage, but it was too strong.
“Anytime, gringa,” she taunted me, dancing around on her feet like a boxer, “You can get your ass kicked any day of the week, just like old times. Viva Las Vegas!”
The Yakuza wanted to set up a fight between me and her for the next month.
I had a different scenario in mind.
I wanted to strike at my enemy outside of any witnesses. To catch her unprepared as she did me in my living room, so many years ago
With Lustiricci’s help, I learned that Matadora owned a home in Austin. A fabulous home equipped with a private, locked fuck-fight room, similar to a cage. She put on private matches there for exclusive customers, which they could watch through a series of cameras mounted on the ceiling of the fight room. She would edit and sell tapes later, through Lustricci’s organization.
Six weeks after Kamiko’s fight, I broke into that house when Matadora went out to run errands. I found poor Kamiko, naked, spread-eagled, chained to the floor in the back room. Her bones had mended and she appeared in good health, though her spirits were terribly shaken. I told her to stay out of sight until my showdown with the Mexican.
When the bitch walked through the doorway into the kitchen, she could see me standing in my underwear, bare feet apart in battle stance, gloves on my fists.
“I challenge you to fight for ownership of property. All assets, money, real estate, stocks, bonds, and slaves.”
“About time you showed up, gringa,” Matadora said, stripping off her shirt, and kicking off her shoes. She was satanically ecstatic that I had come. “Why don’t we sweeten the pot with a week of slavery to the winner, huh?”
“Take your clothes off and get that butt in here,” I commanded her.
Matadora whipped off her shorts and stepped into the fuck-fight room. Her black bra and panties made her golden bronzed skin more appealing to me, sparking familar catlust in my loins. “I wore this same underwear when I kicked your ass back in Vegas. I feel kinda lucky that I’m wearin’ it today.”
The doors locked when she pressed her thumb against a plate, and the greatest catfight of my life began. Our battle was awesome, but since I owned that house later, you already know the ending. I made her submit to me with a back-breaker slam on my knee, almost snapping her spine. I pummeled her face again and again until she said the words.
I had stripped the underwear off her body long before the submission. I still keep it as a trophy.
Matadora was such a mess, I didn’t even get to fuck her until two days later. But when I did, I let her have it. I chained her up on the bed and let Kamiko take a few cracks at her, too.
On Matadora’s sixth day of slavery, I encouraged Kamiko to wrestle her for the hell of it. It was like the old saying about falling off a horse and getting back on it. I figured an easy victory (since Matadora was weakened from fighting and fucking) would bring back Kamiko’s cat sense and spirits. I took them out on the back lawn late one afternoon, for a little wrestle match.
As soon as it began, I saw that it was a mistake. There was no longer any cat lust in Kamiko’s eyes now. She moved not to dominate, but to evade. There was real fear there, and Matadora took advantage of it. She easily dominated Kamiko, though the Mexican won nothing out of it.
The next day I sent Matadora with airport cab fare and a one-way ticket to Los Angeles.
I looked forward at that point to living in Matadora’s house that I had won, along with Kamiko, of course. Her cat tastes would come back, it was just a matter of time. I could be patient. I still loved her.
But Kamiko had lost more than the Cat Scratch Fever. She had lost her love for me along with it.
After trying for a month, we both agreed to separate. I gave Kamiko money to fly to Maui and establish a new life there, but I did not hear from her since she left. That was four years ago.
Nowadays, the only thing that can stop me from thinking about my wife is catfighting. I’ve even gone back to caged combat. It’s been a while since I lost to any bitch.
I feel like I’m overdue for a big loss. I don’t know who it’ll be, or when, but it’ll be a bad one. I don’t care. I’ll never let go of the Fever.