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Erin Lee vs MishRocks – The Epic Encounter

Erin Lee vs. MishRocks on FCF


A junior at an east coast US liberal arts college, I am completing a semester abroad, in the UK.  Spritely, at 5’2” and 100 lbs or so, I’d say I make friends easily.  But my sharp tongue and sarcasm also anger others, and I am no stranger to the occasional knock-down/drag-out brawl.  In fact, I had been able to find a club this semester that catered to that very “hobby,” and serves as a release for my tensions and occasional mini-rages.  It’s hit or miss, though, as fights aren’t scheduled.  If there’s someone there who also is interested in a brawl, then—-game on!  But if you’re in the mood, and there’s no else willing, then it can be a frustrating afternoon, with tension best worked out via the exercise machines or the pool.

Such was the case today, as I was in a particularly vile frame of mind, and having checked the sign-ins, saw no one there interested in a match.  “Son of a …” SLAM as I whip the locker door closed, having done a quick workout instead, but still full of piss and vinegar.  Slightly sweaty, I decide to shower, so I re-open the locker door and start to peel off my workout clothes—-the ratty old t-shirt first, which gets tossed in, and the shorts, which I slip over my hips and allow to slide down my tanned, toned legs until they puddle at my feet.  Crumbling them into a ball and adding them to my locker, I stand motionless for a moment, eyeing myself in the mirror across the way, admiring my tight little body and how I look in just my skimpy, aqua-blue, lacy thong.   Deciding to grab one of the club’s big, fluffy towels to take to the shower with me, I slam the door again and turn quickly, my shoulder colliding with that of, oh shit—just when I thought my day couldn’t get any worse…….Erin Lee.

Erin Lee

I’m down the club for one reason and one reason only..I want a FIGHT!!! and I’m dressed just for that, jet black thong high on my hips to accentuate the length of my toned legs, matching jet black sports bra which keeps the contents nicely constrained.  At 5’6″ and 110 lbs I’m not the biggest girl on the block but as more than one girl here can testify crossing me can be a big mistake. I have my hair tightly pleated to my scalp so as not to offer easy pickings to anyone who thinks about getting in my hair.   While I wait for some action I busy myself on the cross trainer, working up quite a sweat, not that I really need to exercise, I’m already super fit with tight abs, toned legs and for my size good shoulders and biceps.

For some reason I have always been able to spot a prospective fight long before it happens and one just walked in the door. Quite a tiny lil thing she is but that means nothing, 4″ and at a guess 10 lbs between us, should make for a good fight if the girl is brave or daft enough to be looking for a fight with me. I bide my time, no need to rush, I stay on the cross trainer but my eyes are on this lil bitch. As time passes I can see she is getting more and more frustrated, clearly she wants a fight but she hasn’t seen me at the other side of the gym, the air-con masking the sounds of my exercise.

Then I see her go into the locker room and I decide it’s time to make my move. I drape a towel round my shoulders and head off in her direction. I hear the sounds of a locker door slam, smiling I quicken my pace, this bitch is likely to fight mad while I will fight cool which should give me an advantage. I enter the locker room just as this slip of a girl slams the door one more time and spins round, colliding shoulder to shoulder with me. I can see by the look of surprise and a slight hint of fear maybe? that this girl knows full well who I am and I look past her over her shoulder to see the name plate on the locker “Michelle.”

“You looking to fight, Michelle” a rhetorical question if ever there was one and wanting to get the upper hand from the start I swing my right arm around aiming my palm right at Michelle’s left cheek. “Next time look where you are going when you leave your locker.”


Am I looking to fight?  What the hell kind of question is that, I think, eyeing the slightly taller blonde skank in front of me.  What? Do you think I stopped in for a cup of freakin’ tea?  

In my short time here, I’ve found that the fight community is pretty small—-everyone kind of know everyone else’s business—-at least in terms of who beat up whom, whose panties are hanging on whose wall as a trophy, whose toes were licked, or sucked, or, well, you get the point.  Although I don’t really ‘know’ too many girls here, I know OF a few.  Fight results spread like head lice in a kindergarten classroom.  And because I didn’t know too many personally, and of course my time here was limited by the school calendar, I sought out matches based somewhat on the catfight rumor mill and largely by the win-lose grapevine.  That’s how I found, and fought, those two local girls—-club legend Ewa, and local cutie Dana.  I managed to post some impressive wins against both, and, well, suffered a couple of humiliating defeats as well.

That’s also how I had heard about the legend-in-her-own-mind, Erin Lee.  Supposedly there was a fight about a month ago where she got her teenage ass pretty severely owned by some brunette nursing home resident, and more recently, she just barely eked by some hot blonde old enough to be her mom.  Ever since then, she’s been riding high on that victory —-that ONE victory—- preening and carrying on like some white trash diva.

As our shoulders collide, we each are knocked back half-a-step, and I hear those 5 loaded words ooze out of Erin’s lips.  I recognize you instantly as our eyes lock—-taller than me and a bit heavier, pretty, in a common sort of way, those breasts barely contained by that flimsy little top—-and I can’t help myself but smirk, both at the banality of your comment, and the thought that this day suddenly just got a whole lot better!  The words barely on their way from your mouth to my ear when your right arm starts to move, coming around from the side and up, as you toss out a line about watching where I’m going.

It all happens in the blink of an eye.  One moment I’m on my way to the shower, clad only in my lacy blue thong and a scowl, carrying a super soft towel, and the next moment this under-sexed Brit is aiming to spin my face around.  As I see your hand move, pure instinct kicks in, and my left arm moves up just a little and makes a small arc, your palm slamming into the fluffy towel I’m holding.  “Wax on, bitch…” I hiss, curling my own right hand into a fist and trying to drill it into your side, hoping my knuckles are formally introduced to your ribs in the most painful of ways.


Even as my hand swings towards your pretty face I’m thinking of all the stuff I’ve been told you’ve said about me, how I live it large on one win over a hot looking blonde old enough to be my mum and how I lost to a retirement home escapee, what we both know however is both those ladies are amazing fighters and to suggest otherwise shows both them and me disrespect. I’ve also heard, as ya do in our close knit world that some big hitters think you’ll not only beat me in a fight but destroy me and own me, hell even peeps who have supported me through thick and thin are now siding with you…and that’s cool, they may be right but I’ll be damned if I’ll go down without a fight…

I do think a lot in a micro second, which does nothing for my chances really, especially as ya left arm shoots up and blocks my right as it whistles towards your cheek, then your right fist comes barreling into my side, making my eyes bulge and my breath come whistling through my clenched teeth…this lil girl is a fighter, but then, so am I. Through narrowing eyes I glare at you then I slap my right hand on your left shoulder spinning you round to face the lockers, my hands go into your hair and I look to slam your pretty face into the unforgiving metal…this fight just got serious.

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There’s a muffled little thud in the otherwise silent locker room, as your right hand slams into the thick towel, and my left arm is pushed by the force of your attack. Had that palm found its way to my cheek, I may have been on the floor already at this point! But I manage to intercept your opening salvo, and fire off one of my own, drilling my knuckles into those velvet ribs of yours, feeling them bend, just slightly, at the initial impact. Your face registers the blow, eyes widening, a puff of pained breath shooting from between your pursed lips. Your breasts jiggle slightly at the blow, held in place, kind of, by that Wal-Mart two-piece you’re rocking.

The jiggle makes me feel a bit self-conscious, a little apprehensive, and as the tiny green Jedi Master says, fear leads to anger, bitch (my paraphrase, of course). My angry eyes lock on yours as my fist pulls back from your side, ready to hammer into you again, but—-damn—-the pain in your face has now been replaced by an equally intense look of rage, and before I can deliver another blow, your right hand slaps onto my left shoulder and spins me, Just as quickly, I feel your talons sinking into my scalp, collecting handsful of my chestnut hair, and before I can get my bearings, you thrust me forward, and the locker door that I had been abusing only moments prior now becomes my second most-hated thing in this locker room, as my forehead slams into the cold metal, propelled by your powerful, toned arms. My field of vision explodes into a blinding white upon impact, and pain starts to radiate from the front of my head back through my temples. That’s gonna’ leave a mark I think painfully, a little bit woozy, thankful that I was still so close to the locker. Had you pushed me from further way, the collision would have been that much faster and harder (force equaling mass times acceleration, of course!). I feel you start to pull my head back again, and I know I won’t last too long getting my cranium pummeled into this steel door, so I try and launch a counter, raising my right foot and snapping it back with a kick, hoping to slam the ball of my bare foot into your right knee, while my left arm bends and shoots backwards as well, the pointy tip of my elbow sooo wanting to re-visit your ribcage.


Happy that I made my point would be the wrong way to describe my feelings as I drive your face into the unforgiving metal locker door, more like satisfied that I hurt you, that would be a closer description, i’m about to draw your head back for an encore when your heel slams into my right knee and at almost the same time your left elbow drives into my ribs. I groan and stagger back, my hands pulled clear of your hair. I gasp for breath, almost winded by your elbow, lucky for me I had most of my weight on my left leg as I was using this to get some force into slamming your face but even so the kick hurt and has got me limping. “Nasty lil skank,” I snarl as you got in the first telling shots in our fight, I need to counter or at least buy some time to catch my breath.

With my face red with annoyance I force myself forwards, balling up my right hand to aim a vicious punch at your kidneys, then wanting to slow you somewhat I bring my left knee forwards whistling towards the back of your left thigh. Each breath I take at this moment is causing me to wince at the pain you have caused in my ribs, every stretch, every movement and i’m determined you will feel equal if not more pain My feelings towards this lil bitch rapidly going from wanting to beat her up to wanting to destroy her and end her desire to fight!


My forehead still throbbing from its introduction to my locker door, I feel some satisfaction as my foot tags your knee, almost simultaneous with your ribs being drilled by my elbow. Thankfully, the double-shots force you to release my hair and stagger back a step. I’m hoping you’re winded, not of course having been able to see exactly where I hit you. But a smirk—-a tiny one—-breaks out on my face as I hear you hiss the words “nasty little skank”, a telling sign that the blows delivered the prescribed amount of pain to your body, and, by your raspy hiss, that you’re at least partially winded.

I have no illusions here—-you clearly are bigger than me, that’s a fact, and in our brief toe-to-toe encounters, it’s becoming obvious to me that you’re also stronger. So I know that I’ll need other means to beat you down into a hurting pile of skanky flesh; namely speed, creativity, and guile. These Brits seem to like to take each other’s thongs, bikinis, and panties as trophies from their defeated and humiliated foes, and in my mind’s eye, I can picture my bare foot atop your prone, nude, spent body as I twirl your skimpy black thong in the air. Heh heh heh….

So I start to turn to my left quickly, wanting to take advantage of your winded condition. But I don’t even get a quarter of a turn in before your right fist slams into my back, your knuckles drilling into my lower spine, my face scrunching in pain. I turned quickly, so I’m not sure if that was your intended target, but damn does it hurt! Just as that thought-bubble starts to dissipate, my turn stymied for the moment, your knee follows up, barreling into my left hip—-close to a bone upon bone collision as your kneecap crashes into my hipbone, re-agonizing the pain in my lower back. I had hoped to pivot quickly and snap a kick into your abs or chest, but with my back and hip radiating pain, I know I’ll barely get the leg off the floor now. So instead, trying to fight through the pain, I complete the turn as quickly as I can, balling my left hand into a fist and swinging it out to the side, using the momentum of the turn to energize it, hoping to smash it into your pretty face back-handed style and catch you off guard


Believing I am starting to get on top of the prettier smaller girl even this early into the fight as I launch shot after blow at your turned back, but mishap follows mistake and firstly the attempted punch to your kidneys lands full square on the base of your spine almost breaking my knuckles, then my knee shot aimed at the back of your thigh smacks into your hip bone as you half turn to face me. I shake out my hand and almost take to hopping on the one foot, I say almost but I am still able to gingerly take my weight on my right leg despite the kick to the knee and the bone on bone contact.

What I wasn’t expecting or maybe wasn’t ready for was the backhander that slams into my left cheek and sends me spinning back across the room. It’s just a good job I am both the bigger and possibly stronger girl or I’d be flat on my back now instead of pressing my right hand against the far wall to prevent myself from crashing into it. I shake my head, that was a decent shot I took there, this Michelle couples fighting ability with beauty and I can see I will have to take her very seriously or I could well lose this fight.

I brush my hair away from my face then hitch up my thong and look across the room at you..”that ALL you got you lil tramp?” I sneer as I prepare myself to face what will no doubt be an onslaught from my diminutive opponent.


My spin is sloppy—-hampered by my aching hip (God, I sound like my grandmother!). My arm catches the centrifugal force of the turn, and as my body rotates, my fist soars out on an arc. I feel it slam into your smooth skin before I actually see it, and by the time the rest of my body has spun, your larger body is already staggering backwards, one arm out to to make sure you don’t crash onto the wall. My fist throbs from the blow, and I am in awe—-and a little apprehensive—- that you’re still on your feet. What the hell, is this chick made of freakin’ iron? I muse, loving the fact that you’re shaking your head now, trying to get your bearings yet determined to look like you’re not rattled at all. Well, despite the fact you’re on your feet, I can’t help but notice the welt that’s already rising on your left cheek, and just for a second, I have a fleeting sense of admiration for you that bitch, you can take punch!

I watch as you brush some stray hairs from your face and sneer at me after adjusting that thong—-dental floss probably would have covered more of your body, just sayin’….. “That all you got, you lil tramp?” floats across the room, echoing against the silent metal guardians surrounding us on three sides that contain all sorts of panties, tampons and dirty towels. You straighten your back and lock eyes with me as the rhetoric fades away, and it is only now, many minutes after this battle has begun, that I realize that only one of us will be walking out of this locker room under her own power. My hands come up to mid-torso level, fists loosely clenched, and with the cockiest smirk I can muster, I coyly shoot back, “Slut, I was just warmin’ up!” as I take a step toward you.

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I move to leaning against the wall taking deep breaths, not that I’m in any way out of this fight, hell I even enjoy the pain, makes me feel alive somehow. I’m sure I could keep a psychiatrist busy for many a day. I finger the welt on my cheek and smile at you, not the smile of a friend, oh no, the smile of someone who recognizes a like-minded fighter, someone prepared to take the knocks to give the knocks..

Now with my heart beating fast and my eyes locked on your trim body I’m devising a plan of how I can beat you with a damaged right hand and a sore right step towards me, I expected you to rush me to try and take advantage of my obvious injuries, I know I would situation reversed. I grit my teeth as you get closer, now is the time to make my move. I force myself off the wall and come at you as fast as I can with my slight limp, in truth we are no more than three paces apart and as the locker room isn’t the biggest in the world it plays into my hands…I come at you hard and low, dipping down and throwing a left hook at your side, this is more a diversionary tactic than a serious attempt to wind you as right after throwing the punch, in no more than the blink of an eye my right shoulder buries into your belly, my right hand, still sore and showing the signs of bruising clutches onto your tight left cheek, I drive into you as I look to take you off your feet and use my momentum to drive you back first into the unforgiving lockers….

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Taking a step closer, I can’t help but watch your chest heave a bit as you suck in air—-those breasts straining against the fabric of your top, small beads of sweat trickling down between them. I draw my eyes upward quickly, not wanting to get too distracted, and see your eyes almost boring through my body, taking in every nuance, every bruise, every curve. I know you’re hurting a bit, as am I, and I quickly weigh my options—-charging you would seem to make sense—-I know one of your legs is smarting, and maybe your balance is off. I could let you approach me, of course, which would probably give you the edge, time to prepare your attack after analyzing my position. Or I could just continue my slow approach to see what you’ll do.

Unfortunately, you have devised a fourth scene, and pushing off the from wall, you lunge at me, quick even with your bum leg. My hands up, I see you bend, coming in low and fast, and I know your bigger body will tear though any type of defense I can set up in a mere——OOOFH! your left hand swings out and I throw my right to try and block, but it’s meaningless as your shoulder plows into my stomach, knocking some wind from me, folding me over as your feet keep moving. I can feel your fingers clutch my ass cheek as you literally lift me, my toes barely brushing across the floor as you drive me backwards, slamming my body into the cold metal of the lockers, my lower back taking the brunt of the impact, adding even more to my windedness as your shoulder cuts into me again as we hit.

Now it’s me sucking wind, back screaming in pain, pressed against the locker door, folded over your shoulder; my exposed breasts pressing into your back momentarily as my feet come in contact with the floor again. Gasping, I can’t let you lift me again—-worst case scenario, you flip me over your back onto the hard tiled floor, and it’s probably all over for me! Desperate, I plant my palms against your lower back and push myself up, gasping for breath, and as I semi-straighten, I bring my hands up over my head quickly, lacing my fingers together, and then try to hammer my double fists down onto your spine, hoping like hell it will at least break your hold and give me a chance to swallow some air.

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With my slightly greater weight I manage to drive you into the lockers, the clang of flesh on metal echoes around the room and is only matched by the sounds of your screams…”You are mine now, bitch” I snarl as my shoulder digs deep into your belly and folds you over my shoulder. I’m about to stand up straight, thinking of lifting you and slamming you again into that cold unforgiving metal when I feel your pert lil tits peel off my back, I grab you by the hips, drawing back a lil, ready to slam my shoulder into your belly once again when I feel your fists hammer into my back, a savage pain tears down my spine, I drop onto my knees and my back arches pulling my arms away from your butt…

Confused as to how a much smaller girl can fight back from that bone juddering slam, but also starting to accept you are the tough fighter that I heard you were I shake my head hoping the pain is going to subside sometime soon. No point in even trying to get back onto my feet, my knee is still aching and now my back feels like someone set it on fire, so I do the obvious thing, I grab hold of ya ankles and shuffle back as quickly as I can, trying to pull your feet out from under you and drop you onto ya tight lil butt…

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Stretching my arms over my head just aggravates my aching back—-your handiwork of pain on my poor, smaller body. But relief surges through it as my joined hands drop—-‘rocket down’ is a more accurate description—-and slam onto your spine, right below your shoulder blades. The sound of my fists solidly hitting your smooth flesh bounces eerily off the walls of the locker room—-a sickening slapping sound with a bass undertone. The blow hurts my hands but the pain is overshadowed with pleasure as you drop to your knees, your hands sliding down my sweat-slicked hips, fingers trailing over my thighs, then the hardened calves, and finally dropping to the floor with the rest of your body.

“That’s it, slut, on your knees, a position you feel right at home in, huh?” I taunt, feeling that now may be the time, with you down in front of me, to finally put you away. I won’t deny that you’ve hurt me pretty good so far, but right now, only one of us is on our feet, and it’s not——WUUUMPF! Your greedy hands grab my ankles and jerk them forward, and that, combined with the damp floors, makes it pretty easy to take me down, literally sweeping me off my feet (not quite the way I thought it might happen on my European adventure), and with a lack of grace or finesse, I fall on my ass onto the hard, tiled floor. My face scrunches up in pain as I land—-my butt smarting of course, but my tailbone and lower back now throbbing, as it seems every attack you launch ends up being, literally a pain in my ass (and lower spine). My ankles still in your grips, I try and pull my legs back toward me quickly, hoping that the sweat and speed help to snap them out of your hold, so that I can piston them forward. They may just hit air, depending on how far back you are, or my soles may hopefully slam right into that smug, overconfident face of yours.

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Trying to describe the feeling of relief I feel as I hear your tight lil butt land on the cold damp floor and the cry I hear from your mouth would be hard to do. That axe-handle chop you laid on my back came close to disabling me but this has given me a few moments to recover my composure. I keep a tight hold on your ankles, you never know when they might come in useful and I look up through strands of hair that have come loose from my braids at your face. I see that your face is screwed up and you are in obvious pain, this is good and I start to pull on your ankles so I can lift my body up higher on my knees. Just as I do this you give a good yank with ya legs and almost overbalance me on top of you, but I just manage to retain my balance though I lose my grip on your ankles…

Thinking quickly like the good fighter you are you then drive your legs back out like pistons, lucky for me that I am now somewhat higher in my position, and then again maybe not lucky for me as your feet cannon into my tits knocking them up and clean out of my bra, the rest of me almost does a backwards somersault, yelling with pain I land on my back and skid a lil way across the floor. Gawd this lil bitch just doesn’t quit. Rubbing my tits I groan as I work my way back to my feet. I don’t bother to feed my perky tits back into my bra, instead I tear it off and toss it across the room. My nipples are so firm and erect I swear you could hang coats off them, I’ve always loved a good hard fight and this lil bitch is tough as meat jerky…old meat jerky. I take a step forwards hoping to get you before you are back on your feet launching a right foot at your ribs like a rugby player going for a conversion…..


From my position—-on my back, looking up at the ceiling essentially, I am relying primarily on physical sensation and short-term memory as I rocket my feet out and up, hoping they can target your approximate location. It’s a gamble, because a total miss will result in a great deal of energy being used up by me with zero gain, I’ll look like an idiot, and I’ll be splayed out momentarily for you to attack. Not good. On the plus side, a lucky blow with my heel to the underside of your jaw could end this fight pretty quickly and decisively.

Neither happens, of course, but I’m still pleased with the results as my bare feet pound up and into your chest—-I can tell immediately just by the feel on my soles that they’ve torn into your bikini top and carried it up and over your breasts, and on the way, mashed those infuriatingly perfect tits as your whole body gets propelled backwards. I hear you fall—-the sound unmistakable, and pressing my palms against the floor, I push myself up into a sitting position to see the damage I’ve caused.

My back such mess, it takes me a moment to sit up, and a I do, you’re already on your feet, which concerns me—-a LOT. That was a hell of a kick, I thought, and here you are already up before me. You tear off your damaged top, those breasts now freed up, mocking me as they sway subtly and settle, and I almost get wide-eyed at how hard and prominent those nipples are. For the first time since this fight began, the tiniest bit of doubt creeps into my head—-shit, she’s loving this! I try and dismiss the thought as you start your approach, scrambling to my knees, but I’m not quick enough. Your foot flies out at me at tags me in the side, knocking me back down to my ass. A slight groan escapes my lips, and I roll to the side, trying to give myself some space from you so I can get to my feet and attack.


My foot sinks into your side and spins you over, once again I get the shivers as I hear your moans, I stare down at you as you lay on your side holding your ribs..”those aren’t the only moans you’ll be making before this night is over, bitch” I sneer. But I don’t want to finish you too quickly, my sadistic side makes an appearance, I want to take my time and make you suffer. “You came to the club looking to fight so get up and fight.”

I bend down, still favouring my right knee after the attentions you’ve given it the last few minutes, I’m no wimpy tramp though, I can take plenty of pain, I just hope you can, so, bending down, my left hand sinks into your hair and I wrap some of those brunette strands around my fingers..”GET UP, MISH” I demand as I start to straighten, hauling you to your feet. “So you this tough lil fighter, you don’t seem so tough now, do ya bitch!”

This is quite the turn on for me and I could easily overheat, despite what I’ve said to her I am well aware of the people she’s beaten and I do know that she is a great fighter, but right now, I’m owning her and when I’m finished with her she won’t be coming after me looking for revenge. I then start to walk towards the locker room door pulling poor lil Mish along after me by her hair, now everyone is going to see me finish her.

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Your kick sends me sprawling back to the floor, clutching my side. I don’t think any permanent damage was done, but it’s yet another part of my body that’s bruised and in pain. Truly, I don’t think there are too many unscathed parts of this 5’2” frame at this point. I flop over to my other side, hoping to put a little distance between us so I can try and push through this new wave of pain and get to my feet before you attack again. But you’ll have none of it.

Now the taunts start. Your confidence in the outcome of this battle growing steadily, especially now, with me down and you on your feet, lording over me. A quick glance up and I can see the smirk on your face, not really thinking about the fight now, but about your post-fight spoils and probably what type—-or types—-of humiliation you want to play out with me. As I push myself to get to my knees, you take a quick step forward and I brace for another kick. But instead, I feel your talons sinking into my hair, fingers tangling in, and with a secure grip, your jerk my head up by the hair, hauling my body to my feet. I stagger once you bring me up fully, but you maintain your grip on my hair, keeping me upright. “You don’t seem so tough now, do ya bitch!?” you taunt, tightening your grip in my hair and shaking my head back and forth.

Expecting you to fire off a punch into my gut to keep me docile, you surprise me instead by turning away from me, hair in hand, and jerking me forward as you start to walk, dragging me behind you. You don’t have to say it—-I know what you intend as I see you head in the direction of the door. Sure—-drag me by the hair in front of whomever’s in the club and finish me off in full view. What a boost to your ego that will be, and as turned on as your nipples are announcing that you are right now, a public display of your dominance will no doubt send you right over the edge, I’m sure.

But you’re premature in your victory celebration, Erin, and I try to I fight you, dragging my feet as you pull me, which makes you then just jerk me forward every few steps, causing me to stagger toward you and then try to fight again. But this time as you yank me forward by the hair, I come willingly, pressing my body into yours, my breasts brushing against your sweaty back. My left arm goes up quickly and loops around your left arm, which is in back of you and still holding my hair. While I lock up your left arm, my right arm darts out to the side and then circles in front of you, and I pull it back fast, slamming my right forearm into your throat and then pulling, jerking YOUR body backwards into mine as I rocket up my right knee, hoping to slam it into your tight ass as our bodies collide and I press my forearm into your throat even tighter. “Fucking weak slut…” I hiss, my lips brushing against your left ear, my tongue darting through my parted lips quickly, teasing your earlobe. “Matter of fact, I AM looking for a fight.”


Did I get too cocky? Is this Michelle bitch just too good for me despite being smaller and lighter? My delight at being in total control of you deflates rapidly, I’m confidently hauling you by your hair into the main room at the club when my hold on you seems to go slack, then I feel your really stiff nipples and your tits as they press into my back. My left arm is hooked and my hand ripped from your hair. I gasp out in shock and pain as my shoulder is wrenched. This isn’t how it’s meant to be, I’m meant to be beating you up and now I’m in severe danger of being the one getting beat up. You snap your right arm across my throat and tits, the sound of flesh on flesh echoes round the locker room as does the sound of my groan, you remove your arm and then snap it back across my tits sending them swaying in two rippling orbs of red flesh. I told you I welcome pain, it turns me on and gets my juices flowing, you are hell bent on testing this out it seems.

Your right arm then tightens around my throat and you start to make me bend backwards as you pull me into you, your knee drives up into my butt and my groans get louder, deeper and more insistent. Finally you are proving to be the fighter the rumours said you were and to add to my shock and surprise I feel your warm breath flow over my cheek as your lips brush my ear telling me in a most humiliating manner than you are indeed ready to fight, you round off the taunt with a few licks of your tongue to my lobe. For a girl who was getting worked on just a few minutes ago you sure have recovered your mojo in double quick time and this makes me panic just a lil.

But I’m not finished yet, my position is far from a good one but I still know I have what it takes to defeat this feisty lil bitch. I throw my right elbow back at your ribs, not in blind rage but in a calculated attempt to weaken your tight hold on my throat which is starting to cut off my breath and turn my face post box red. I was already bathed in sweat before this happened, now lil beads start to leave trails down over my still perky if somewhat beat up tits, a second elbow follows the first then another and another, panic is a strange thing, it incites you to do things to excess, then I raise my right foot and use your chest to lean against whilst trying to slam my foot down onto your right instep. After those few blows with my elbow I grab for your right arm with my right hand and try to peel it away from my throat. I still think I can beat you but not quite so confident about the outcome now.


Gritting my teeth, I dig my ulna tightly into your throat—-I know you can’t respond verbally now, as I can feel the rings of cartilage in your throat pulse, but no words can escape other than an occasional gurgle. As I adjust my left arm, which is looped around yours, your hand opens, releasing my hair, and can’t help but smirk. The longer I have you wrapped up like this, struggling, sweating, panicking (I hope), the weaker you’ll become, and the easier to finally break you. Raising my foot off the damp floor quickly, I fire another kneecap up into that tight ass of yours, loving the feel of your body wincing in pain at the impact, but unable to push out a groan.

As I struggle to hold your slippery, writhing, almost nude body still, I detect motion in my peripheral vision. Turning my head slightly, I see a male—-shirtless and wearing just gym shorts, leaning against the far bank of lockers, arms crossed, a salacious smile playing across his lips. His gaze is intense, focus 100% on the two unclothed female combatants whose sweaty bodies happen to be pressed together at the moment. A slight scowl takes shape on my face, and as my gaze drops a bit, I can see—-oh, wow! This boy is QUITE excited to watch us, as his shorts do little to mask his, well, physical arousal at the sight before him. I of course recognize him—-Todd, he of some sort of self-proclaimed physical prowess, yet, in my scant encounters with him, functioning cognitively, in my humble opinion, well below the level of the average fruit-fly. Hence, my nickname for him (that I have kept to myself): Re-Todd. There’s no secret around the club that Re-Todd has the hots for Erin—-as I said, it’s a small club, and everyone tends to know the business of others. As to whether she likes him, well…FUCK!!!!!

My stupid mental meandering prevents me from noticing your subtle body adjustments, until the point of your elbow drills into my side with almost surgical precision. And then again—-hammering my ribs fast and furiously. As my brain wakes up again and realizes I’m in a fight, your foot slams down atop mine sending sharp waves of pain through my toes and foot. “Bitch!” I seethe, feeling your hand grip my arm and pull it away from your throat. I yank it away from your neck and wince as I take a step back trying to get out of range of your elbow and feet, unwinding my left arm from yours, separating our bodies totally now. I hear you cough and gasp as you start to suck in air, and although you’re free from the holds, I can only hope you’re still weakened by them. Wanting to take advantage of this before you can recoup—-because if we go toe-to-toe again, I know my ass is grass. Ignoring Re-Todd (but knowing he’s still there, watching and drooling), I grab my towel, which I had been carrying with me when you attacked me, and snap it out taut by one corner. Grabbing the other corner with my other hand, I twirl it tight into almost a thick rope, and I move back toward you, your back to me, trying to toss it over your head, holding both corners, hoping I can then snap it back and again tighten it around your throat, this time from a safer distance and avoid being drilled by you again.


It’s no secret that the majority of the club members get off on seeing me get beat, on so many occasions I have walked into the club to be met by sneers of derision when another loss tarnishes my record. I won’t say it doesn’t hurt but i’m more than capable of withstanding these windbags who wouldn’t dare face me in a fight…

Elbows and kicks, this is what I have to resort to, this isn’t how it was meant to go, I was intent on beating and humiliating this Mish person, after all she is smaller than me and doesn’t often entertain the club with public fights. I wonder if I underestimated her, but I don’t think I did, realising from the get go that the bitch could fight and to my knowledge has beat up many club members behind locked doors. So it is no surprise that even though my kicks and elbows make her back off and finally let me take some air into my breath starved lungs, no surprise that she’s back on my case before I have time to recover let alone turn to face her.

I’m leant forwards, coughing, my arms almost resting on my semi-bent thighs when a rope is tossed around my neck, a look of total horror spreads over my face, I look over at Todd, I can clearly see he is enjoying the fight by the large bulge in his shorts, I can also see he has no intentions of helping me, he’s enjoying the fight way WAY too much to stop what he’s doing to do that.

The rope-towel tightens around my throat and I grab for it to try and pull it away, I start to turn to try and face you but the rope burns my flesh, I swing my fists in panic but a strong yank back on the rope and a hard knee in my back take me down onto my knees. I hear the cheers from those members present, the lil fighter is destroying Erin, it’ll be free drinks in the bar tonight, sweat pours off my face and body and the world starts to swim…is this the end of Erin?


Twirling the towel tight between my hands, my good fortune continues as you try to get some air, facing away from me, hunched over a bit with your hands on your thighs. Worried that Todd, your sweety-to-be might warn you, I move quickly, flipping the towel over your head and then crossing my arms, cinching it tight around your throat. Your hands fly to your neck and start to paw at the makeshift noose, and in response I jerk the ends towards me, pulling you back closer, twisting them together and then transferring it, like a leash around your neck, to one hand. Taking a half-step closer to you, I jerk you back by the leash and then RAM my knee up and into your lower back. A gurgled shout barely echoes about the room, and as you drop to your knees, one hand rubbing your lower back, the other gripping the tightened, roped towel around your neck, I glance over at Todd, unsurprised that only one hand is now visible, the other hidden in his shorts, kneading away. What IS surprising is that several others have entered the locker room, men and women, most with smiles on their faces, some with looks of concern. “Come on Mish, finish her!” “Get up Erin, get up!! You’re embarrassing yourself!” and other such drivel being tossed around by the onlookers.

“On your feet, slut!” I command, yanking up on the towel-leash with my right hand, and, slightly bending towards you, I grab the waistband of your thong with my left, and yank it up and into you as a mild encouragement to get to your feet. Your bigger body staggers to its feet, still pawing at the tightened towel. I then turn away from you, my back to you, right arm bent at the elbow, right hand over my shoulder, and I start to take short stop-and-go steps around the locker room, jerking the leash behind me so that you are dragged backwards on your feet by me as I parade you to the gathering crowd, not stopping long enough for you to turn.

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It appears it is indeed the end for Erin, it could even be the last she will ever be seen fighting in this club. The inner bitch now makes its full appearance as you drag me to my feet by use of the towel. I gag, choking as it tightens then my thong is driven up between my cheeks and lips and your potty mouth spews bile calling me a slut.

You turn away dismissively dragging me along stumbling behind you, the crowd grows bigger, mainly your supporters it seems as I hear cheers for you and sneers for me. I retreat into my own world, the pain from the towel-rope around my neck forces all other feelings to leave my body, I cling to the rope with both hands like my life depends on it and it could well do as I catch a glimpse in the full length mirror of my lips looking a nasty shade of blue. With each yank on it I stumble till I finally take a fall onto my butt, your already outted potty mouth reappears with “Is this pathetic skank the best your club has to offer?” obviously forgetting that you needed the aid of this towel I’m clinging to get the better of me.

My world is getting smaller by the second as both the blood and the air are deliberately cut off, even my futile attempts to get a little slack in the rope fail, its clear I can’t expect any help from Todd, if his hand moves any faster something is going to catch fire and so, my body goes limp and my arms and legs drag along the floor of the locker room till even the watching Mish fans go quiet in shock at your viciousness.

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Despite my bruises and welts—-all due your hands and feet, vindication now courses through my body, taking some of the sting out of those injuries. An almost permanent smirk plastered on my face now as I think about how you attacked me, unprovoked, and thought you’d get the best of me, flaunting your bigger size and your perfect body in my face. I tug on the towel-leash and drag you backwards by your throat another few steps, wiggling my ass a bit for the growing group of onlookers, raising an eyebrow and giving a quick lick to my lips as I parade your staggering body by the guys, all of whom seem to have the same rapidly growing bulge in their shorts as Re-Todd (whose left arm, by the way, is now almost in a state of permanent flex as he increases his rate of self-entertainment watching your beautiful form take more and more abuse).

Another tug, you cough, and then I feel your body drop as my arm gets tugged back. I glance over my shoulder and see you fall onto your ass, hands pawing at the towel tightened around your neck. But then your hands drop and I see your torso slump over to the side. The cheering crowd suddenly goes silent, and I freeze for a moment, watching your body just lay there, on its side. Shit—-I don’t want to kill you! I drop the towel and start to untwist it, each turn loosening the grip on your throat, until it’s totally untangled. Pulling it out from your neck, I toss it to the side and stand over your body, wedging my toes under your bruised ribs, I flop you over to your back and watch as your breasts jiggle a bit as your body settles. “Not so tough now, are you, you pathetic slut, hmmm?” I glance over to Todd, who seems simply mesmerized at my increasing dominance over what he thought was his sexy fighting goddess and I raise my foot over your face, ready for the final show of supremacy.

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As I’m dragged along the floor listening to your pathetic taunts I’m holding the towel tightly, but here’s the twist, not in the towel, in my thinking, I’m in what appears to be a hopeless position but I’m quietly seething that you used a foreign object, namely this towel around my neck and I’m planning, even as you try to choke the life out of me, planning how to fool you into releasing me.

The plan is to feign defeat, those of you watching will no doubt have been aware that I never actually quit, I faked blacking out, what you may not have seen is as my arms and legs went limp I was facing Todd and I winked at him. Todd upon seeing this knew there was fight let in me and more than an even chance that I’d finish off his frantic self gratification for him later after the fight.

You suddenly cease dragging me across the floor and for a second the entire room goes so silent its almost spooky, you unwind the noose from my neck and I take small subtle sips of air so as not to ruin my plan. You are rightly completely confident that I am finished and all you have to do is flip me onto my back and then finish the humiliation by rubbing your sweaty foot all over my face. This is where I come back to life, my eyes opening wide as I look up at you, “Not so fast, skank” I blurt out as I grab hold of your raised ankle and hold ya foot in the air whilst I swing my right leg round to take out your standing leg just below your shin, “you surely didn’t think you could take me out THAT easily did you?” pushing up on your ankle and taking you down to your back.

I have the element of surprise and whilst I am severely weakened from the rope trick even though I was playing possum, I’m not about to waste the chance to finish you off, I’m on my hands and knees just as fast as I can be and I lunge at you before you can get off your back. My right knee powers up between your legs aimed right at your pretty lil mound and then I’m on you, I aim lefts and rights at your perky tits then I start to throw them at your face, all my anger and frustration spilling out in a blur of fists.

I raise my right fist intending to land the final blow when I find myself sailing backwards through the air, “what the fu@k?” a pair of strong arms are coiled around my waist and i’m hissing and kicking trying to escape so I can finish you, “get the fu@k off me”, twisting left and right to try and see who it is has hold of me, can you guess who it is? It’s Todd who saved you, the same Todd who everyone thought had the hots for me when all the time he has the hots for you, that bulge pressing now against my butt is not because he wants me, its because he wants you. He carries me kicking and screaming out of the room and locks me in the storeroom while he returns to tend to his number 1 girl…the fight is over, or is it?

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Winking at the crowd, my foot hovering over your face, I toy with them—-will she smear her foot over her vanquished opponent’s mouth, nose and eyes, or…I subtly move my foot south a few inches…will she press her sole into Erin’s throat and finish what she started with the towel? I decide to go of course with the more humiliating move and start to lower my foot, but I’m stopped. Your hands dart up and grab my ankle, holding it securely in place, as your eyes pop open. “Bitch!” I think, “she faked the whole…” I can’t even complete the thought as your leg sweeps in from the side and knocks me down, helped by your pushing up of my captured foot. i tumble backwards, with nothing to grab onto, and land on my back, the thud completely drowned out by the roar of the group who can’t believe what you’ve just pulled off.

I don’t think I even hit the floor before you’re on your hands and knees and then lunging at me, your right knee sliding between my legs and pounding into my kitty—-a guttural groan slips from my lips as the lower half of my body explodes in pain, and then you drop on me—-your chest pressing into mine, my breasts flattened by yours as you hold me down with your bigger body, fists flailing. My choke was no trick, I know, so it weakened you—-your punches are hit and miss—-some glancing off my arms and shoulders, but some hit home, slamming into my cheek, rocking my head to the side. A fist drills into my chest, another crashes into my temple, all too fast for me even to get one punch off. The crowd now at a fevered pitch, screaming and cheering, “Finish her off Erin!” and “Fuck the lil bitch up for good!”

I lay there, disoriented, trying to will my hands to come to my defense. You lift your body subtly and bring your right fist up, and I know this could be it—-the knock-out blow. I writhe beneath you feebly, trying to escape, squirming under your body—-your fist clenches and I brace…..and then you’re gone—-your body weight off me, and through squinted eyes, I see powerful arms carrying you back as you flail and curse, almost tossing you into the storage closet and closing the door.

A big old smile on his face, Todd lumbers over to me, thinking he’s some grand hero. “Fcking idiot…” I hiss, intent on finishing this fight on my own terms. Hearing you screaming in the closet, fists pounding on the door, I roll over painfully to hands and knees and push myself to my feet. I’m hurt, but so are you, and I know I can finish you off without anyone’s help. Finally on my feet, I stagger-step towards the door, the crowd chanting…but they’re chanting E-RIN…E-RIN…E-RIN…. fck them anyway. My hand clutches the doorknob, and I twist it slowly while depressing the lock. You look surprised as I swing open the door, and I lunge/stumble into the small closet, fists clenched, ready to finish you off.

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The door swings open and that look of surprise you see on my face, well I got news for you bitch, that is my reflection in the mirror that hangs on the back wall. You see, I heard someone unlocking the door, now I didn’t know who it was or why so I frantically looked round for somewhere to hide, not easy in a 8×8 cupboard so I settled for behind the door, as you do. You enter unaware of where I actually am and even from the back view I can see you are fully charged if slightly beaten, I can’t help a small tight smile, this is where I finish you bitch.

I’m worn and hurt in places I didn’t even know I had but that isn’t going to stop me finishing you. I leap from behind the door, ” This is the end of you, bitch” I scream as my arms wrap around your neck and my legs wrap around your slim waist. The door slams shut behind us and I lean back against it trying to crush all the fight out of you. You swing your arms, fists, cursing, even try a back header but all to no avail as my head is well above yours, ” You are nothing bitch, you hear me, NOTHING!!”

I use my crossed feet and backheel you in the mound, from the moans and groans you are making I know you are about done And then your legs start to give way and you sink down to your knees, I keep the pressure on your neck even so but I remove my legs from your waist and stand above you until your body goes limp. I’m pretty sure you are not faking this so I release you and let you slump to the floor. A nasty smile appears on my face and I grab you by the hair and open the door, dragging your limp form out of the cupboard and tossing you onto the floor in front of the watching members. “There’s the little bitch who thought she could defeat me” I sneer as I bend down and rip off your thong, tossing it to Todd, “back the wrong horse there didn’t ya toddy boy” standing over you with my right foot firmly planted on your mound, “This little bitch is mine now” I say with a smirk, rubbing the sole of my foot up and down your bruised pussy..”you hear me bitch?” bending down to smack your face left and right, “I OWN YOU!!”


Two steps into the tiny closet, fists up, and I see your eyes, wide, but you look—-different. Different than your regular ugliness, almost like…and then I see my cute self, and my heart stops as do my bare feet—-how can…? Fu*k!—-and the knowledge that I’m looking in a mirror shoots through my brain even before the word takes form in my thoughts, and I see your hideous mouth spilt into a satisfied smirk. Before I can turn, you’re on me, pouncing like a feral cat—-toned arms wrap around my neck, your forearms cutting into my throat, left hand securing the choke by grabbing your right wrist, and your silky thighs press into my sides as your ankles lock. Instinct kicks in immediately, and my hands fly to my neck and clamp onto your arms, my short nails scraping and stabbing at your flesh in a desperate attempt to wrest them away from my trachea.

I hear the door slam behind us, and feel your weight shift as you lean back, causing me to stagger back a few steps with you on my back until we stop, your back against the door. Your legs tighten around me, and I hate that I let out a low moan as the pain becomes intense. My stubby nails do little to the muscled coils digging into my neck, and I rip my hands away, clawing as much of your skin as I can cram under my nails, and start swinging backwards, trying to hit your face, or chest—-anything! Air is getting hard to take in now as my body supports all of your weight, and between coughs I gurgle, “Cut down on the donuts, fat-ass…,” as my legs start to burn, knowing I can’t keep your 110 lbs aloft for too much longer. My fists move to the front and start pounding on your thighs, your calves, but as I fight to suck in oxygen, I know my punches are losing their zip, and after a few more feeble whacks at your legs, my hands go back to your arms, pawing at them. My head starting to swim as my lungs heave, desperate to draw in a breath, I swing my head backwards, hoping to slam my skull into your nose, face, mouth—-anything. But all I hit is your chest, and as you laugh at my weakening body and taunt me with, “You are nothing bitch, you hear me, NOTHING!!”, your ankles loosen and your foot swings back hard, the heel squarely drilling me between my legs.

A groan from my soul, and I drop to my knees, unable to bear your immense weight and the agony you’re pouring on my small body. My hands once again paw at your arms, but as you squeeze even tighter, my chest heaves one more time in a futile attempt to suck in air, and then my hands slide down your arms and dangle at my sides. You pulse your legs a final time around my ribs, and cut your forearms in just a bit more into my throat, and I feel the strength simply flow from my body, my muscles becoming slack, my head drooping, my last thought about how much I f*cking hate y….

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