Private Connections by Mr. Cage

Julia Rivers wore dark glasses plugged into a “Private Connections” PDA device. She had gotten up early to get ready, but she succumbed to temptation. Since she was active again she could access the Archives, one video only until she had earned more. She wore the electronic glasses with the earphones designed to protect Private Connections from having its property recorded. The LCD screen on the main device had a coded innocuous movie playing in case anyone ever chose to look. The main device doubled as a real phone and PDA without the glasses.

A young girl, no older than her own daughter was on the ground bleeding. Her mother was taking her place in the dirt ditch. Two men dragged the girl from the ditch and off camera. The mother was bleeding from the nose, mouth, and one tit. She faced off the tough black girl that had just caused her to replace her daughter. The black girl’s face was scratched and her thigh had a deep bleeding bite. One eye was swollen shut and the other puffy. A large knot on the black girl’s forehead had come from a head butt to the daughter’s face that might have broken a nose.

This was the seventh tag for the white mother and daughter and the fourth tag for the black mother and daughter. The camera periodically captured at least two dozen pair of feet standing on the edge of the ditch. Mostly male voices urged the fighters to continue. This mother-daughter race war had been going on for forty minutes now and Julia was running out of time. The women were too tired to shout names at one another, but the men continued to. The crowd appeared equally split. The losers would get fucked in the ditch by the winners’ supporters.

Julia furiously worked her clit wanting to climax one more time before she had to quit watching. The white mother and black daughter pounded each other. Fists, head butts, elbows, feet, knee, claws and teeth were all engaged in the dirty bloody scramble. The mother was heavier and bigger, especially in the tits and ass. She was slowly overpowering the black girl.

This was a Type Nine fight and the only rule was no killing or ripping out the eyes. Given the agreed tag rules it went on and on until both the mother and daughter were unable to continue. The woman out of the pit could call for a tag and the fight was supposed to stop. If it didn’t a long stick with a prod would encourage the violator to step back. Then the tagged out woman would be dragged out and allowed to recover and the replacement pitted.

The mother withstood the tired black girl’s fists and pounded back the smaller, younger girl to the side of the ditch. Then she pinned the girl’s arms against the muddy wall and started biting her young already battered tits. The girl screamed and screamed. Finally her mother called for a stop. The white mother took another bite and backed off as a stick prodded her from above. The black girl’s right tit was gashed open covering her belly with new blood. The white woman laughed and taunted the girl and her mother. Then black mother jumped down into the ditch. It was just getting good, but her time was up. Julia’s clit exploded and she felt her cunt spasm. Unable to watch the fight to the end, she cursed and got out of bed.

“Mama, you better be up and getting dressed!”

Julia let her cunt juice drip down her thighs. She wanted her sex to stink today. It always made her feel wilder. She admired herself in the full length mirror. She had slept alone last night, her husband Clark was on a business trip that included a weekend conference.

She examined her boobs critically. They showed some stretch marks and of course some old scars, but her salon tan and some excellent medical work had covered almost everything to the normal eyes, but not her own. Even with the marks her tits still looked good: big pink nipples, bumpy raised baseball sized aureole and heavy 40E full natural breasts with small excusable amounts of sagging after three suck hungry children and forty years of living, some of it hard.

Five months ago she had started getting rid of some of the excess flesh on her belly, legs and ass. She wasn’t as hard as she was when she was twenty, but there was hard muscle under the padding now and she felt so much better. She turned and examined her 5’8’’ thick frame from the back. Her big ass had dropped a bit, but it was still standing out like a ledge. She had measured herself yesterday at 40E -30-42 and weighed just after her last shower 161 pounds. She rubbed her tight lipped pussy, the waxed lips sticky and her thick leathery clit hood standing out between her fat upper pussy lips. Today was the day!

She quickly put on her face and brushed out her short, thick blonde hair. Jason wouldn’t like her new short style, but she thought it made her look tough and dyke-like, always a useful intimidation look in a fight with a straight or bi woman. Her face looked good without the help of hair hiding its shape. And short hair was an advantage in fighting, even if all it did was not get in your eyes.

Her oldest daughter yelled again. Julia had to drive the two teens to school and drop her three year old off with her mother for the weekend. The kids had a ride to the seashore with their aunt after school. Julia had her daughter and boy in her early twenties and thought she was free. Then she ended up pregnant at the age of 36 bringing and end to her and Jason’s hobby. Now he was too busy to play and perhaps too cautious. Well she didn’t have to quit living, especially not now. She had waited and waited. She had stopped nursing. Her lower belly was back in shape, even with the stretch marks and the one caesarian scar.

She pulled on her teen boy’s faded blue open collar t-shirt, almost busting out of it. Then she put on a loose pink tennis skirt and pink panty hose. She wasn’t wearing underwear today. She liked the way the shirt made her boobs pop up like big balloons ready to burst free. The open collar stretched to show her swollen cleavage. Next she pulled on a deep blue proper mom blouse and a much longer black skirt. She stepped into her two inch heels and then grabbed her big bag.

She opened it and stuffed in four inch stiletto pink strapless heels and her pink kitten full head mask. Then she went to a hat box and got out her collection of trophy rings. She picked out her favorite eight, all had been resized for her fingers years ago after taking them from other women; they fit a little tightly now. She admired her loaded hand and examined her flawless square cut pink nails. She pulled the rings back off and stuffed them in a small draw bag and put that in the bag. Baby oil, towel, and a mouth guard out of habit went in next; she shouldn’t need the mouth guard today or the pink mask.

The kids were yelling about being late. She pulled out her strap on and her favorite cunt buster dildo, ten inches of shocking pink rubber cock with hard rubber studs dotting the shaft and extra fat head. It went in with a new pair of panty hose, her heaviest cover-all make-up and a couple of illegal pills to pump her up before and after the fight. A water bottle waited for her in the fridge. She tossed in a towel for good measure and ran off to do her mom duties.

Jason would blow his stack if he knew she still paid their annual dues to Private Connections and took delivery of each new upgrade in technology. The new stuff was amazing. She remembered stories of the older women she started fighting in her twenties: the old contact magazines, the weeks of letters, the furtive phone calls, the hesitant meetings in public places, and then maybe a tame wrestling match. Then the internet arrived with all its tough talk and ratio of 100 to one posers to fighters. After that there were the trips to elevators and warehouses when anonymous fighting took off, but getting a fight had still been a chore. And, there was virtually no money in it and no real assurance that some cunt wouldn’t pull out a knife when the fighting went against her.

After a series of scandals as authorities and professional busy-bodies got into the middle of everyone’s extreme fun everything had moved to a world wide data base with super cell phones, PDA’s, and protected servers beyond the reach of the Nanny State. The new technology protected them from discovery by the news media that loved to play violent tapes over and over again while sputtering about violence in society. And of course, moralistic speeches by congressional liars who were as likely to be paying for the tapes of the fights as they were to be putting girl friends, daughters or wives in them.

Getting back into her car after leaving her three year old with her mother she reached into the side pocket of her bag and brought out her Private Connection PDA. Parking the car on the street for a moment she wired up. It was a big screen phone, a computer and more importantly a GPS device. What was truly wonderful about it was that it was totally protected and carried encrypted applications for their secret lifestyle. Only she could see the encrypted information when wearing electronic lenses made for her based upon eye tests. You couldn’t even use a camera to capture the secret data or the fight movies to at least view on a big screen. She had tried shooting a digital camera through the glasses. Apparently the human eye and the camera captured information differently. She was sure someone could hack it, someone always did but first you had to know it was there. Secrecy was paramount. The old Elevator Clubs and Open Air Fight Clubs had been penetrated by the authorities. These days the Nanny State forbade almost everything and they never tired of trying to make people into good little sheep.

She pushed in her twelve character code. She had another code for them as a couple and one for Clark if he ever wanted to do singles. Immediately her picture and club name appeared on a map of the city. She could extend the picture map to cover the entire Arena District or switch to a hundred other districts covering the world. District to district matches required another screen, but she was strictly had had an in-city interest. In the city she could actually see avatars of other women’s faces moving about on the map or staying place in their office or home. She got wet immediately. Anyone of them could be contacted. All she had to do was run the cursor over their tiny avatar and it would fill the screen with picture and data. The same system worked for Quiet Hook-up, an anonymous sex sight, where you picked a place and fucked a stranger.

Even though she had been out of action for almost four years she still had an overall ranking of 2385 out of 18309 female members in her Arena, essentially the eastern coast of the USA from D.C. up to the Canadian border. Of course most of them were one timers or voyeurs that never actually met up. She punched the keyboard. Rankings were a mystery, based upon a combination of fights, wins and losses, brutality of the rules, real world status, relative physicality and opponents’ ratings.

She clicked to Type 7 fights and found she was ranked 1001 out of 10228 women supposedly willing to consider fighting a Type 7. At her peak she had reached number ten and had plans to take on number one, but then a super-sperm had defeated her pill. So in four years of not fighting her ranking had dropped as the older the fight the less valued it was. Just adding a new fight, win or lose, would jump her up in the standings.

Type Seven fights had been her favorite. There were ten Types starting at one which was essentially sex fights and ending with Type Ten with the loser getting a staged car wreck or disappearance. Each type had a number of standard rules given letters A to X, the X being the most extreme variant. And of course there were variants the fighters could agree to under wide guidelines. It was hard to get real prize money at anything less than a Type Five fight. A typical Type One sex fight didn’t even require an Arena Manager or arena. Just agree on a hotel room or empty hallway and fuck each other’s brains out. Some guys might pay to watch, but it wasn’t exactly that uncommon these days to see two women fucking. And Type Ten fights were only open to a few fully investigated Partners, so while the money was good getting an audience, protection, and disposal in place took a lot of time.

Without the need to dispose of a body or collect an audience the new system could contact an available picture and arrange a fight in minutes if you were close enough to an authorized arena and the arena boss was handy. She had gone through a list of Type 7 fighters looking for someone challenging with her type of body, not too young or too highly ranked. She had found a tough looking thirty year old dyke bitch calling herself “DDAnnie.” She selected the fighter, ranked 110 currently in Type 7. According to the club’s mysterious difficulty factor Annie rated at 1.15 for Julia, 1.00 would have made them evenly matched in the computer’s opinion. Within minutes they had exchanged histories, resumes and selected rules from a menu of Type 7 fights, made a date, reserved an arena, and published the announcement. Both wanted money, plus the thrills.

The Arena Boss was a doctor so their medical attention was already taken care of and he would be the referee. The arena like most only allowed for ten men. Her Private Connection device reported that ten men had already bought gold tickets. A gold ticket was a one ounce gold coin, nobody wanted U.S. dollars anymore. The damned things depreciated in your purse and they were all electronically tagged for income, wealth, non-investment, investment, consumer and medical tax purposes. The money printers tried to outlaw gold every other year, but the elected corruptocracy liked their bribes in gold too. The fight was winner take all so she had a chance to walk away with ten ounces of gold, over 50000 in depreciating dollars right now and maybe 60000 by the end of next week.

Following the GPS instructions she pulled into an abandoned construction project. The gate was opened by a guard who was wearing his Private Connection glasses and holding a PDA. Obviously the man had been bribed with a remote viewing of the fight. The GPS showed a path through the half finished office towers to a parking area at the back of an unfinished shopping plaza. She was sure the place looked beautiful in the plans, but with the sixth “minor economic tightening” in ten years the only buildings being finished had government tenants.

Everyone was waiting in their cars. She shimmied out of her mom disguise and put on her stilettos. She pushed her mask and mouth guard to the side. They would be going bare faced today since there would be no striking or holds above the shoulders other than one-armed headlocks, hand holds on the back of the neck and of course hair pulls. Licking her lips she pulled off her wedding/engagement ring and put on the heavy headed rings she had taken as prizes in various battles. There were wedding ring fights, but she had a nice set of diamonds and wasn’t ready to lose them in a fight.

She pushed up her tits inside her boy’s too tight shirt. The collar was open showing a cleavage crack rivaling her ass cheeks since her boobs were squashed together. She could see her huge pink nipples and bumpy aureole trying to push through the shirt’s material. The blue shirt and pink tennis skirt were meant to be girlishly provocative as were her pink stilettos. She wanted to look tough, but hot. Others might not agree, but she felt a definite advantage when she out sexed the other fighter before they started.

The Arena Master got out of his car and walked to a metal sided rolling cart, about the size of a large pre-Free To Be Green Law car with slightly reclining metal sides three feet high. She had fought in a high-sided dumpster in an alley once with four Arab men and her husband hanging onto old fire escapes on either side looking down into the dumpster as she dismantled an Arab bitch in a Type Eight belt fight. Her back and tits were raw after that one. That fight had paid for a new car, a real car not a new weenie machine required by the greenies.

The Arena Master pushed on the cart showing it wasn’t moving because bricks had been placed in front and behind its metal wheels. He motioned to the men who got out and handed over their gold coins. Then he used the audience as day labor to lift and place three blue wrestling pads on the cart’s floor. They almost never covered the walls. Next they pulled out a twin-sized mattress and tossed it on the ground under the shade of a building. Unfortunately the cart was in the full sun and the metal would be hot and hard. Julia smiled and felt her clit twitch. The mattress was where she would ass fuck the bitch with her strap on, loosening her up for the eleven cocks that would follow. Next each man was given a camera to record the fight for Private Connection. Someone would edit the fight, protecting the men’s faces and getting the best shots for slow motion and freeze frame, if someone squirted blood.

Then he waved to Julia and the bitch that had showed up on a motorcycle. The biker must be an outlaw, because the Social Harm Tax on an NRV (not recommended vehicle) would be worth the cost of a Government Motors four wheel weenie machine. The bitch stripped off her jeans showing she was wearing sheer black hose and a white tennis skirt bunched up underneath. Next she pulled off her leather jacket, definitely an outlaw since the Leather Tax to Support Animals was also ruinous. The bitch was wearing a red muscle shirt, three sizes too small. Then the gloves came off and she flashed eight solid metal rings and short un-manicured black painted nails.

She strutted forward on her riding boots, stopping in front of a man who was obviously a fan. He unlaced them and pulled them off for her like a servant. As a reward she grabbed his head and rubbed it into her sheer black covered crotch. What a fucking display! Julia strutted on her stilettos up to the arena, kicked off her shoes and joined the bitch in stocking feet on the dirty concrete. The Arena Master carefully ran his fingers over the heavy rings making sure no one had placed a “sharper” on their fists, a Type 8 and above level device at the extremes. He checked to make sure their finger nails didn’t conceal glued on razor blades cut to look like designer nail tips. Those were Type 10 decorations.

He announced Julia, Rivergirl, first as the lower ranked fighter. The men appreciated her big boobs and outfit, but nothing like she had hoped. She had been out of action too long. Then they announced DDAnnie. The bitch stood 5’7’’ weighed 155 solid pounds, sported 38DD real boobs and a close cut stark white peroxide old fashioned flat-top. Her skin was pale white, and blue veins stood out on her tits and her arms and upper chest showed some recent bruising. The bitch had no children and no apparent job other than fighting and riding her motorcycle, so she was probably a drug mule or worse. Her arms and the swell of her tits showed tattoos. At thirty years of age Annie was thicker, but still firmer than Julia.

They glared at each other as the rules were read. Then they both agreed verbally and by nodding their heads to the terms. The Arena Master stepped back and motioned to six men. Three each lifted them up and over the opposing ends of the twelve-by-eight metal arena. The pads curled up at either end, but covered the metal floor. The Arena Master designated two men to hand out water during the one minute round break. Other than that there would be no assistance as they fought over an unlimited number of five minute no mercy rounds until one of them couldn’t stand after the one minute break. They handed him their strap-on harnesses which he placed on the mattress. The winner would get both of the she-cocks and could use one or both on the loser. He took their single allowed sixteen ounce water bottles and held them for the one minute round breaks.

Annie snarled, “Mom, shouldn’t you be wiping some brat’s nose. What the fuck were you thinking challenging me?”

Julia promised, “Cunt, I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll wish you were the cell block pump in a men’s prison.”

“You’re a fucking breeder!”

“Dyke freak!”

“Fight!” shouted the Arena Master and the audience started hooting.

Julia stood waiting for the big rush. Annie obliged her spitting and snarling rushing her, eyes on Julia’s big milkers. As she had so many times before and recently in her mind’s eye, Julia waited until Annie was committed and delivered a perfect front kick to the bitch’s mound. The impact slammed Julia back into the metal hard bruising her ass and back where the short wall bit into her arching body. The foot to the mound stopped Annie’s charge and turned it into a bent over stagger. The men yelped in surprise as Annie cursed and grunted.

So far everything was on plan! Julia stepped to the side and drove a right upper cut into the bitch’s right tit while grabbing the back of the muscle shirt with her left. The bitch grunted and staggered backwards as her muscle shirt compressed her big tits and pulled her backwards in the classic big swing. The flattop dyke cursed and slammed hard into right wall her left hip and ribs taking the abuse. Left hand went to the lip of the metal container to steady herself. Julia’s preset plan continued as she slammed a brutal front kick stomp into the partially exposed black panty hose covered mound. It was a good score and the audience appreciated it with groans almost as loud as Annie’s.

Julia followed up still on her script with her first straight right to the left tit. The thin already bulging red t-shirt provided no protection. There was a satisfying thud and groan as her right fist was partially enfolded in the red t-shirt. The impact swung Annie flat against the metal side. Julia’s hard left to the outside of the right tit and then low left to the mound kept the bitch in place and hurt her. Julia smiled and drove her knee up to the mound, still playing out her mental script.

Annie reacted with her own right knee covering her mound and taking Julia’s knee on the side of her thigh. Julia responded with a two handed grab of the red shirt’s straps, a bit earlier than she intended, but the bitch was no longer playing her role. Julia mentally discarded her script, now the fight was on!

She jerked the woman off the wall by the straps, twisted at the hips and threw her hard toward the opposing wall trying to gut her on the lip of the metal container. Still trying to get into the fight the dyke grabbed the front of Julia’s too tight pull over. The throw put the dyke’s ass and back into the left wall hard dragging Julia along for the ride. Going with the flow, Julia pushed forward bending the biker cunt backwards over the edge, straining the red shirt’s straps and pulling the shirt upward.

Annie started to head butt Julia in the face but stopped herself remembering the penalty: restrained arms as the fouled got four unrestrained punches to the tits, then escalating to eight then twelve and so on. A fight ending penalty ended in default victory for the fouled and a brutal fucking and perhaps a tit beating should the fouled recover from the fight-ending foul.

Instead, the dyke twisted her fists deep into the material of Julia’s boy shirt. The fight would go on forever in five minute rounds until one of them couldn’t continue. To win you had to have stripped the other bitch naked of her agreed upon clothes and then she had to refuse to go on after a break. Sometimes a truly sadistic bitch would beat a woman so bad that during the final break the loser desperately stripped off what was left of her clothes and then refused to go on. “Own-strip” was a total humiliation.

They pressed against each other jerking on material promising bare tits long before an own-strip ending and the crowd cheered them on. Someone screamed a gold ounce for the first one to get the other’s tops off. Such open encouragements were noted by the Arena Master and enforced.

Julia heaved herself backwards bringing up her knee. Her knee rolled the loose white tennis skirt up totally exposing the fat hairless pussy under the black sheer panty hose. Julia’s knee pinned the bitch by her mound to the side of the container, while Julia’s arms showed her muscle mass under her feminine padding stretching the red muscle shirt out of shape and then ripping the right strap. Annie jerked and ripped tearing open Julia’s blue shirt’s collar and widening her cleavage, but the tougher shirt held together better.

Without a right strap to occupy her fist, Julia opened her left hand and clawed down the front of the bitch’s chest, leaving five deep furrows as she pulled down the right side of the t-shirt exposing a fat, scarred right nipple set in palm-sized smooth aureole, also crisscrossed by scars. The crowd roared and Annie cursed in fury. Annie jerked wildly ripping the v of Julia’s shirt exposing more and more of her big compressed tits. The crowd appreciated her fat, round, firm, tanned tits and called for her nipples.

Annie jerked up on the shirt and pushed backwards trying to get off the metal wall. Julia’s belly was exposed, but the shirt held on and her weight still pressed into the dyke’s mound. Annie’s frustration turned into an involuntary scream as Julia’s sharp pink painted finger nails dug into her fat right nipple. The biker’s nails were black and short, rough and uneven. Julia had nails just long enough to hold a square cut and a good sharpening. The rubbery dark nipple deformed, swelled, and darkened even more as she did her best to blood the bitch early.

“You fucking catfighting whore!”

Outraged, Annie stunned Julia with a show of strength. The biker bitch’s shoulders and arms were strong. Even with the bad leverage, the pain gave her the surge of strength to literally lift Julia by the armholes of her shirt. Once her single supporting bare foot came off the mat, Julia couldn’t stop being swung by her boy’s shirt around the pivot point of her knee. Annie had to be tough as hell to ignore the grinding of that knee on her mound, but she lasted long enough to sling Julia to the right and let go.

Julia staggered as her one foot came down. She might have fallen if her right hand hadn’t had the stretched out red t-shirt strap in her fist. She stayed up long enough to get her other foot down. The over burdened red t-shirt ripped. Julia fell back to the far wall and the shirt went with her completely stripping the biker dyke to the waist. The men roared their approval and a gold coin flew to the Arena Master’s hand to keep for Julia, win or lose.

Furiously, Annie charged off the wall. Julia reacted with another foot, but Annie took it on a hip and slid past it to slam her big right fist deep into Julia’s compressed left boob. The audience applauded as the huge 40E took its first serious punch. Julia’s eyes lit up with tit pain as the hard metal loaded fist crushed her tit and literally rolled it up and out of the torn shirt’s v-neck. Luckily after the pink nipple was exposed it fled back under the torn material. Seeing the nipple hide, Annie grabbed for the shirt with her right hand and ripped it down under the tit and cross chopped with her left fist down on top of the globe. The dyke was determined to strip Julia now.

Julia grunted as her left globe was hammered. She reacted as the bitch went for the exposed nipple with a hard right forearm across the front of both of Anne’s exposed 38DDs. The blow staggered the dyke backwards a step. With her ass supported by the hot metal, Julia’s knee slammed up into Annie’s cunt. The dyke grunted, but didn’t retreat. She slammed a hard right back into Julia’s nipple pinching the fat pink target between two hard metal rings. The fiery pain brought early tears to her eyes. She reached out and fastened her claws into both Annie’s dark nipples.

Annie’s eyes flashed and she grabbed Julia’s hands and jerked them off her nipples. Julia saw blood on both nipples and smiled for a second. Then Annie’s knee crushed her cunt lips. The knee hit her perfectly and for a second she was stunned. Annie pulled Julia’s right arm up, twisted under it, brought it down over her shoulder, lifted and bent over. Before the blonde knew what was happening she was heels over head. The impact knocked the air out of her.

She looked up to see a big black hose covered foot coming down to crush her left tit. Groaning, she grabbed the ankle and rolled. Annie yelped and fell hard into the opposing side of the metal container, her arm hanging over the edge. Julia rolled over, her tit throbbing, seemingly swelling as she moved. The pain was so great that she hadn’t felt all of it yet. She pulled up and the pain was even greater. Annie stood up and kicked stomped glancing off Julia’s ribs and banging her bare foot hard into the metal side. Despite having to shake her foot out, the biker rushed into the blonde. A fist crushed Julia’s right tit knocking almost out of the ripped v-collar.

Then her short blonde hair was jerked by a hand and she felt herself being pulled back off the wall. A knee drop to the belly or tit could knock the fight out of her so she had to stay of her back. Just as she hit the mat the Arena Master blew his whistle. Annie rose her foot to stomp, but he grabbed her elbows and pulled her backwards. The first five minutes were over.

Julia took ten seconds to stand. She pushed her right tit back inside her shirt. The swelling left still throbbed, but she managed to cover the pink nipple and the outer half of the aureole with her shirt. She was drenched in sweat and covered in quickly darkening bruises. But, she felt she had clearly out pointed the biker bitch. The dyke had no shirt to cover her bloody nipples or badly bruised pale white tits. But, Annie’s strength remained a problem. Julia was a bit shaken by the bitch’s recovery.

The minute was way too short. She managed a drink from her water bottle and resisted pouring its contents on her tits. She watched Annie take a drink from her bottle and pour cool water over both nipples checking the nail slashes. Julia smiled. The bitch’s nipples were her weakness! And, the old bruising on the bitch’s boobs showed she was fighting too often. She might be younger and stronger, but she was arrogant and nipple sensitive. Annie was covered in marks that her pale sweaty skin did nothing to hide. Julia began to create a new script for her opening moves.

The second round began.

Unfortunately, Annie didn’t run into a kick. Instead the biker dyke edged forward slowly, her eyes on Julia’s pink stocking feet. So Julia went to plan B, faked a right cunt kick. As her foot came up, Annie bent slightly and reached for the foot. Julia slammed her foot down lunged forward on her left and slammed a left forearm up and under both marked 38DDs. Annie grunted and cursed, took two steps back and slammed a right left into Julia’s ribs. Gasping Julia fired back with a right into the front of Annie’s now sweat drenched white skirt. Her rings sank into the round lower belly and Annie’s eye showed pain, but the dyke fired back with another right left this time to the lower corners of Julia’s belly. Julia felt the need to piss for a moment.

The fight was on. They stood toe-to-toe hammering away at tits and bellies. Both were gasping in pain and blowing after a minute. In the small metal cart there was no way to really retreat, so neither could stop swinging away. Julia’s tits began to throb from the constant metal ring penetrations. She took a mound shot that wrenched a scream from her mouth. Annie smiled and grabbed her shirt again with both fists and slung her back into the corner.

Wedged ass first in the corner with her shirt torn further Julia kicked out driving a heel deep into the meaty left thigh of the strong dyke. Annie grunted and stumbled on a suddenly deadened leg. Despite Julia’s agony and exhaustion, she pushed out of the corner and drove a rapid fire right left into Annie’s flopping swollen tits driving her backwards toward the far end. The dyke growled and grabbed the blonde by the biceps stopping the pounding. They pushed back and forth. Knees blocked knees or hit thighs. Sweat flew. Julia got forced back step by step, despite her slight weight advantage. She stopped he retreat by releasing Annie’s biceps and reaching in for the bitch’s swollen milkers. As soon as her already bloody claws reached the swollen hot flesh Annie screamed and retreated.

Julia took aim and slammed her pink left foot into the bitch’s cunt. Annie groaned and grabbed for the leg, missing it. Julia slammed in two wicked tit flopping uppercuts into the swinging fat bags as the dyke bent forward reaching for the retreating leg. Annie groaned and lunged into Julia, bear-hugging her. Annie was almost falling over, but her arms were still strong. She held Julia close her face in the blonde’s cleavage. Biting was allowed, but if a woman bit then the bitten woman was allowed to target the head and face until the bite stopped. Either Annie didn’t want that or she was too hurt to think clearly. In either case, the dyke held on until the end of the round.

During the break neither of them recovered their wind. Sometimes these round fights went on for an hour, but that was when the fighting pace was slow and measured. The last round had been all out until the bear hug. Julia thought she was still far ahead even if her breasts were hot and heavy from the dyke’s brutal punching. She still had her shirt on and while her stockings were as shredded from collisions with the metal as Annie’s she was fully dressed while the dyke was stripped to the waist. She took water and watched as Annie drenched her head with her own water. She doubted the bitch would last another round.

But at the end of the third round the cunt was still standing and Julia’s tits were hot and swollen. Both nipples felt like they wanted to burst. Her belly was dark and her ribs were bruised. Her mound was throbbing and both legs were covered with bruises. Her boy’s shirt was still on her shoulders but ripped down the front just connected by the waist band. Her stockings were shredded from spending too much time scrubbing against the metal. But she still had her clothes and now Annie was just in her shredded stockings. A foot tangled in the tennis skirt had ripped the bit of white cloth from the biker’s waist. They had spent half the round on the mat kicking and clawing. If Julia had claws on her feet like a cat she would have gutted the bitch instead of just ripping her skirt off.

Annie was doubled over gasping. Her 38dds were hanging and swelling as she stood. Blood dotted her belly and tits below the nipples. Julia’s square cut nails had done some work. She’d have to clean out the biker’s tit flesh when she got home. The exhausted blonde waved her arms trying to ease the exhaustion out of them and her shoulders. Her tits throbbed with the motion, but she had to get the lead out of her muscles if she was going to finish this tough bitch before her own exhaustion caused her to pass out.

Julia came out very slowly watching the dull eyes of her enemy. The dyke had reached that plateau where she would either crack or break through. Most bitches cracked. Julia waded into her not worried about a quick kick. Neither one of them had any snap in their kicks now. The bitch tried and just as Julia calculated her ragged stocking foot barely made it up to knee level before Julia lumbered inside it and slammed her right ringed fist into the bloated left tit. Annie groaned and staggered backwards.

Julia pursued missing a left and then crushing the left tit again with a solid upper cut. The bloody nipple squirted lymph and the audience hooted. “Milk her.” Someone yelled first one to milk both tits get a gold coin. Julia’s left crushed the outside of the right tit. Annie cried out and lunged into the blonde grabbing her again around the arms wrestling them in a staggering circle. Annie stepped on Julia’s right foot and they went down in a thud onto the mat. Julia’s claws cut Annie’s sides and pushed her middle back for a knee to the cunt.

The dyke moaned and let go of the bear hug. Julia started to climb on top but got a knee into her right tit. The fat swollen, hot balloon almost knocked her on her back as it hit her on her tucked down chin. Julia wobbled back on her left elbow. Suddenly Annie rolled into her, not biting. The bitch had both hands under Julia’s wet pink tennis skirt ripping at the sheer crotch of her pink stockings. Julia shifted to go for the tits and flopped on her back.

Screaming as she ripped at Annie’s tits she won the crowd’s approval for getting red lymph squirting from both cracked and scratched nipples. Annie howled but she ripped open Julia’s panty crotch and then penetrated the blonde brutally. Julia squealed and writhed on her back trying to escape. Annie had her right hand inside Julia clawing and her left hand was tugging on the skirt keeping the blonde on her back.

Julia grabbed both dropping tits and crushed them. The dyke whimpered but gouged the blonde’s leathery prominent clit sleeve with a thumb. Julia had to scream as fire shot up her spine. Clit mauling hurt and scared you, no matter what kind of pain you were used to enduring. Julia’s feet scrambled and she twisted onto her hip and pushed away. Thrusting and pushing, her skirt ripped away and then the biker’s wet hand popped out of the blonde’s aching cunt.

Julia scrambled backwards on the wet slick mat. Her feet kicked at the slow pursuer. One foot almost hit the bitch in the face, just missing a penalty. The second foot smashed into the hanging left balloon making a spat splashing sound. Annie cried out and grabbed the foot. She twisted the ankle and tried to bring a fist down on the side of Julia’s knee. She missed and settled for ripping at the hole in at the mid thigh on Julia’s left leg. Julia jerked her foot away and ended up with her left pink stocking hanging around her ankle and rolling up toward her swelling cunt.

As Annie foolishly stripped off the socking foot, Julia slammed her right foot into the dyke’s left boob crushing it flat to her chest and making it squirt a stream of hot fluid on the mat. Annie cried out and fell on her back rolling with both hands holding her leaking tit.

Hurt and tired, Julia rolled to her knees, almost passing out from the pain in her sagging tits. She grabbed the waistband of Annie’s black stockings as the woman pulled up on the side of the metal cart. Julia ripped back trying to throw Annie on her back. The panty hose waist band bit deep into the front of Annie’s bruised belly and exposed her pale white ass to the applause of the crowd. Annie pulled herself along the metal wall and the panty hose came down over her big ass and rolled down to her knees.

Julia let go. Now she had the bitch! The hose would tie up her thighs. She lunged forward on her knees ignoring the swaying of her lymph heavy tits or the pain and wetness in her cunt. It wouldn’t be the first time she had blood on her inner thighs. She rammed into Annie’s lower back with both fists. The dyke grunted and continued on her knees toward the corner.

Frustrated, Julia grabbed the bitch by the right shoulder and pulled her up straight. Then in a nasty swing she brought her right hand down and up and under. Annie screamed as Julia’s square nails found not Annie’s cunt but her asshole tight between the pale white cheeks of her ass. The crowd loved it as the dyke was tit squashed against the hot metal wall and ass gouged.

Julia found the wind to groan, “You want to cunt, bitch! I’ll rip open your asshole so you can shit in your pussy.”

The crowd roared its approval as Annie screamed and held onto the metal wall like it was a shield. Finally the bitch twisted around and slammed and elbow back. It hit Julia on the right cheek and put her on her back blinking.

She heard the Arena Master shouting, “Unintentional foul. Stand for four.”

Hands grabbed her under the arms and lifted her to her feet. She blinked again regaining her balance. Annie was being held up in a two person full nelson, her ass against the metal wall. Her head was flopping back and forth while she tried to convince them she didn’t mean to throw and elbow. Julia touched her cheek and growled. She’d have a mark to cover over for sure.

Taking aim at a rolling, swollen, bag of hot limp with a split leaking nipple steadied her. Her exhaustion evaporated for a moment as she felt her sore clit tingle with the pleasure of having a helpless woman’s tits under her fists. She sucked in air and drove her right fist straight up through the hot meat of the left boob, sending the bag flying upward, an arc of hot pink lymph splashed the face of the man holding the left arm. He snorted and licked it while the envious crowd laughed. Her left hand came down on the same tit hitting it from the top and inside stretching the orb down across the bruised ribs. The dyke screamed as a new stream ejected to splatter the mat and Julia’s feet. The next right was targeting on the swollen drooping nipple. The orb absorbed the terrible blow and Annie gagged as her nipple was driven back into the swollen mass, pinched by Julia’s rings. The blonde took a couple of breaths and then slammed her left down again this time right above the nipple, skinning the raw nub as her rings pulled across tortured tissue.

The Arena Master had the biker propped in her corner and Julia pulled and propped in hers. Then he told them there was thirty seconds left in the round. Annie propped her hands on the edge of the metal and moaned. Then she leaned down and stripped off her stockings, using her feet to step on them to get them off. Julia started forward and then stopped remembering her own tactics. The bitch had enough to get off a cunt kick. The toes just missed Julia’s pussy. Julia missed grabbing the foot. Instead, she plunged forward raising her right foot and drove it heel first into Annie’s mound. The dyke cried and folded over still propped on her ass in the corner.

Annie grabbed Julia’s ankle, but she was too weak to keep it up in the air. The woman ended up bent over at the waist her head pointed at the floor as she tried to twist Julia’s flat foot of the mat. Julia reached under the bitch’s right armpit and grabbed her hanging tit around its swollen base. Annie screamed and fell back against her left hip. She tried to turn around and face Julia. As she did, Julia got her other hand around the tit and jerked upward. Annie straightened up screaming her tit stretched outward and upward from the chest wall. The pressure on the ruptured nipple caused a steady stream of lymph to squirt onto Julia’s hair as she tried to rip the thing away. Annie was screaming staggering on her toes being pulled away from the wall by her tit.

Julia heard the whistle and let go, twisting and jerking as she did. The biker fell forward. Julia staggered from the strain of what she had just done, but kept her eyes on the falling dyke. She had done this once before on a huge breasted ex-porn star in a barb wire ring fight. She had no barbs to work with, but the solid metal lip of the cart might be even more effective.

Annie fell forward. Her body dropped almost perfectly, her ribs hitting against he edge of the cart. She grunted and slid down. The metal edge slid up under her swollen tits, lifting them brutally, stretching the undersides and then rolling them upward toward the biker’s shoulders like bread dough. The men on that side were treated to lymph spray and the sound of two swollen tits being squashed.

Julia staggered to her corner, gagging to keep from vomiting. She poured water over her head to keep the dark circles from closing in around her eyes. Annie flopped on her back her tits bloating as they rolled like water balloons on her chest. The woman’s black and blue belly rose and fell slowly, but otherwise she didn’t move.

It was pro forma. Julia wished the bitch had left on her stockings, that way Julia could have hurt her some more taking them off. The biker didn’t make the count. Rough hands jerked her up and out, throwing her on the mattress on her back. The Arena Master checked her out and put poppers under her nose waking her up. She moaned and said she didn’t give up. Two men helped Julia into her strap-on and then walked her to the mat.

Her own tits hurt so much that when she fell to her knees she moaned and almost passed out. Annie tried to crawl off the mattress backwards. The men grabbed her and held her down. Then they helpfully lifted her ankles up to Julia’s shoulders. Julia plunged her dildo into the bitch’s fat lipped cunt. The fact that it resisted the invasion made the feeling that much sweater. Despite her ordeal, the dyke’s suffering was like a tonic for the blonde. She had needed this for a long time. She fucked the bitch hard in the cunt making her tits roll causing her to scream from both cunt and tit agony. Then with some help, she drove five inches into the bitch’s tight asshole finishing the job her fingers had started. Annie went rigid screaming non-stop and passed out. Julia came at that moment and was too tired to continue pushing her dildo all the way in.

She asked the men to help her up. They stood around like jackals ready to fall on fresh meat. She staggered to the doctors van and sat down waiting for him to finish the first fuck. He only took four minutes and then came over and tended to her. She was badly bruised and her tits would be sore for days, but she had no new scars. Her split nipples would scab and then show no signs. Of course, Clark would know if he fucked her anytime in the next month. She had to deal with him one way or another now.

She rested wiping herself down with wet towels as the men fucked the beaten dyke again and again. The doctor called a stop to it after the most determined guy had taken his third shot. Julia staggered over to the mat and posed with her foot on the unconscious woman’s ruined right tit while cum drained out of her mouth, cunt and ass. Julia took her gold with a smile.

Then for the final recording she challenged pumping her fist painfully, “I’m back bitches!”

The End.

Thank you for reading! For more of Mr. Cage’s Stories: Click Here!

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