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The Gatekeeper by Dradis

In this business it never paid to get overly attached.

After all: fame, glory, and beauty were fleeting at best.  A girl could spend her best years putting her body on the line in a struggle to claw her way to the top, but to what end?  It was always best to win and look pretty while doing so, but there were plenty of people out there who would be equally satisfied watching their favorite lose if they thought she looked good while doing so.  Was success enough to justify all of the heartbreaks, injuries, and rivalries that came with it?  And what then, after everything was said and done?  Sentimentality and reputation were cold comforts for a woman once the spotlight was gone – here today, forgotten tomorrow.  At the end of the day there would always be someone new – a younger girl waiting in the wings who was tougher, hotter, and most of all, hungrier for the same glory and success. 

Jill Sullivan had never particularly subscribed to any of these lines of thought.  Perhaps that explained, with a certain sense of irony, how she had ended up where she was today.  Standing 5’2 and weighing a petite 105 pounds, Jill was a beautiful redhead who was adept as an apartment wrestler, catfighter, and boxer.  She had been gifted with a well-honed technical skill, a relatively fit physique, and a cunning mind that was as sharp as a razor – all of these qualities combined had made her the perfect thinking man’s fighter in her prime.  Now, however, Jill was in her mid-to-late thirties.  The numerous fights and battles that had spanned the last decade and a half of her life had taken their toll, and while still quite formidable, she definitely was no longer the fighter she once had been. 

Being the sentimental creature that she was, Jill had dedicated a room in her beachside California home to commemorating her past achievements.  There was no shortage of photographs, championship belts, and other mementos on display, items which left no doubt as to the great heights which her career had reached.  At the same time, its contents were also a stark reminder of the fact that her glory days were now becoming fewer and far between.

“For chrissakes, do they all have to be that much younger than me?”

Jill was pacing, as phone calls often induced her to do.  She adjusted her earpiece as her eyes moved from one trophy to the next, her thoughts and memories lingering on each briefly in succession.  This particular call was with her business manager Dana Andrews, and it had been carrying on for some time.  The latter had e-mailed her a list of potential opponents along with profiles and scouting information – about a dozen different women in total.  Jill had rejected them one after another.  Despite its brief wander, her attention returned to the conversation at hand as she gave her tablet another quick and dissatisfied skim.  Each and every one of the girls Dana had brought before her was at least ten years the junior of the redhead.

“You’re not an easy sell nowadays,” replied Dana across the line, “I haven’t been able to make any inroads with the top contenders.  Younger prospects though – they’re always eager to take on an established name.”

“Established name… Is that the term you’re using now?” Jill asked.  Her voice took a certain tone, halfway between sarcasm and resentment.

“Listen, it’s not my fault that you’re too stubborn to hang up your bikini,” Dana fired back, “You know that I’m doing the best I can.”

Jill wanted to tell her to try harder, but she knew better.  After fifteen years Dana was the only one who still showed her anything that resembled true loyalty.  She’d been a fighter as well when she and Jill met in their younger days, and against all odds the two had somehow formed a close friendship with each other.  Dana’s fighting career had been cut short by an injury that ended any hopes of serious contention, but she’d been able to turn the otherwise crippling setback into a new opportunity by reinventing herself in a management role.  In this way she had been living almost vicariously through Jill’s exploits for the last decade.  They were very similar physically, and could almost be mistaken for siblings – they certainly cared for each other like sisters.  Dana was a savvy businesswoman, and in Jill’s prime she’d had a golden touch; in her twilight, Jill was dragging her down like an anchor. 

“I’m sorry.  That was uncalled for,” Jill replied.  When the strains of business were as bad as they were, it was often hard to not let personal feelings get in the way.

An uncomfortable silence filled the line for a few seconds.  The awkward feeling was enough to make Jill start her pacing again.  As her gaze briefly returned to the objects on the wall, it focused on a set of frames that were arranged in a neat and orderly row.  These frames didn’t contain pictures, however – instead each contained a bikini, an item of lingerie, or another set of fighting attire taken from a vanquished opponent.  While Jill had never regarded herself as a particularly fervent collector, each specific suit on display carried with it a cherished memory of a great victory.  One in particular caught her eye.

It was a bra-style burgundy number with gold connectors between the jugs, at the tops of the cups, and in front of the hips.  Its previous owner had been Sara Hernandez, Jill’s greatest and fiercest rival.  The sultry Latina had worn this bikini in their first meeting, a torrid apartment wrestling match.  To most, Sara had looked like an Aztec princess when she’d made her entrance that night, haughty and full of pride in her own body and capabilities.  To Jill, she’d looked a cheap tramp as she pranced about and thrust her hulking bosom out for all to see.  Jill hated Sara and she hated Sara’s breasts perhaps more than anything else in the world.  Her ascent from the Mexican resort circuit up into the big leagues north of the border had been stellar – Jill had taken great pleasure in putting a halt to that by inflicting the first defeat of her career.  Sara had always been a top-notch brawler and could hold her own boxing or catfighting with the best, but at the time her grappling game was relatively poor: it had been a piece of cake for Jill to exploit that weakness and wring one scream or sob after another out of her.  In the end she’d left the big-titted slut lying ravaged and exhausted on the carpeted floor, totally beaten – the redhead would forever savor the look of despair that had been in Sara’s eyes when she yanked the bikini off of the Mexican’s body.

Jill’s mind ceased to wander and she returned to the business at hand.  “What about the other old standbys?” she asked.  She hated using that term, but it was an apt descriptor of the women she had in mind.

“Sara’s never going to turn you down, but I don’t think you should be fighting her again so soon after the last one,” Dana said, “Ally is always a good match, but I want some time to lay the groundwork for that – if I can build up the animosity then it’ll be more lucrative in the end… Carmella’s still recuperating from her last fight…”

Jill rolled her eyes.  “So that leaves us with the little girls.”

It was becoming an increasingly familiar role for the redhead at this stage in her career.  The simplest way for a girl to demonstrate her talents and distinguish herself as an up-and-coming star was to do so at the expense of someone else, preferably under conditions that were low-risk and high-reward.  Much to Jill’s dismay, she nowadays seemed to find herself the target of people with such a mindset at every turn – defeating someone of her Hall of Fame caliber, or even just losing well, was a sure ticket to bigger and better things.  And while Jill was certainly far from a pushover, being used as a stepping stone was happening with far more frequency than she would otherwise care for.  Even the thought of being considered one by anyone else irked Jill badly. 

“I think you should take another serious look at Mari Shimamoto,” Dana said, continuing with her list, “The Japanese gravure idol.”

“The what?”

“Gravure idol.  They’re a kind of model over there, mostly bikinis and lingerie.  You know the type – youngsters in their late teens and early twenties looking for a break before moving on to an acting or singing career… You remember Amy Halloway?”

Jill gnashed her teeth at the thought of Amy.  Their one and only fight had been two years prior – at the time, Amy was a fresh-faced nineteen year-old new to the game, while Jill was, in retrospect, just past the peak of her career.  She remembered the way Amy had flaunted her jugs – even bigger than Sara’s – and the blonde’s incessant taunting over how her DDs overshadowed Jill’s more modest C-cups.  She remembered being goaded into fighting what was essentially a tit mauling contest – sacrificing all of her innate advantages to fight the blonde’s fight had been a rare misstep on her part. 

She remembered being bewildered by the amount of punishment Amy’s chest could take while her own boobs had been put through the ringer from start to finish.  She remembered being sprawled out on her back at the end of the night, sobbing helplessly as Amy sat astride her waist and yanked upwards on her breasts with one malicious pull after another, all the while ignoring the redhead’s cries of submission and pleas for mercy.  She remembered how, to add insult to injury, the buxom blonde had refused her a rematch.  Amy was moving up in the world – a fighter of her skill didn’t need to prove herself twice against a second-rate has-been.  That upstart little bitch… Jill also remembered, much to her chagrin, that while Amy had been the first to treat her with such little respect, she definitely had not been the last… 

“Yes, I remember her,” Jill replied without betraying a single ounce of emotion, “What about her?”

“Apparently, another one of these girls pounded Amy flat in a titfight about 6 weeks ago,” Dana said, “Since then they’ve been coming out of the woodwork one after another.  Some corporate suit in Tokyo must’ve decided to sponsor a bunch and flood the West Coast with them.”

Jill scrolled back to reread this potential opponent’s profile.  Mari was 22; a height of 164 centimeters put her slightly taller than the redhead; she was about the same weight at a billed 48 kilograms.  What grabbed Jill’s attention, however, was the reported 94G bust printed below these stats.  She glanced through a few modeling pictures – one in a dark dress with straps slipped off the shoulders, another lying on a bed in a red bikini with white floral print, a third in a white bikini with multicolored stripes – Jill estimated her to be a large D-cup by American measurements. 

The action shots, all against other Japanese opponents, were revealing as well.  The first showed her putting another girl under with a sleeperhold, the next of her submitting a different girl with a kneebar, the last of her torturing a third opponent with what looked like a claw hold to the hamstrings.  Her record said she was 4-0, and by all appearances she’d been well trained. 

Looking her over again carefully, however, Jill could tell that there was more to her would-be opponent than at first glance.  The look in Mari’s eyes bespoke the tremendous confidence that she possessed, but it was more than just the sense of invincibility that came with youth.  No, hers was the kind that could only come from never having tasted defeat.  Nothing spoke better of this than how she seemed to smile the brightest of smiles even in the midst of combat.  A feeling stirred within the redhead – it was a familiar one that was perhaps the best kind to have.  This girl knew how to put up a good fight, and would do so with all of the spirit that her young body had to offer.  It was hard to describe as anything more than intuition, but the redhead could tell that this opponent would competitively engage her in a way that so few others her age could.  Subduing her would be a challenge – Jill looked forward to it like no other.

“Still with me?” Dana asked, “Or has she caught your interest?”

Jill’s answer was succinct and to the point: “Make it happen.”

* * * *

A long and loud scream of agony filled the air, echoing off the walls of the apartment penthouse.  As the pain jolted her back to her senses, Jill realized that the anguished cry had been her own.

The beautiful redhead was suffering.  It took a second for her to shake off the incoherent state that had gripped her mind, but as her lucidity returned Jill began to reacquaint herself with her surroundings.  She currently found herself lying face down on a large bed – it was the sole piece of furniture to be found in the combatant’s part of the spacious room, and almost the entirety of the night’s battle had been contained to the space atop it.  Jill’s fighting attire at this point consisted solely of her navy blue bikini bottoms – the matching bra-style top that had gone with it had long since been stripped off of her and lay strewn on the carpet several feet away.  The pain – all too familiar by now – continued to wrack her body.  Jill buried her face into the white bedsheets and cringed as she tried not to let it overwhelm her.

As she regained her faculties, Jill could now appreciate the submission hold that she currently found herself in.  It appeared to be some form of surfboard variation – Jill’s legs were bent at the knee and pressed together on top of her thighs.  Her younger opponent had chosen to wear the red and white floral and had likewise been rendered topless – she was now in a seated position behind Jill with her own legs hooked over the redhead’s, clamping her lower body in place.  With a firm grip on the redhead’s wrists, the Japanese girl was yanking backwards on her arms, working them to their limits and then some. 

Jill was trying hard to remember how she’d arrived at this precarious position in the first place.  Her last recollection was of being on her back with Mari sitting straddling her hips, of the younger woman’s left hand tightly gripping her hair, and of Mari’s right hand cracking against her mouth and cheek with one merciless slap after another.  It was more brute force than the image that Mari’s handlers had likely been trying to cultivate for her, but it was hard to argue with the results as Jill had grown groggier and groggier with each blow.  Out of desperation Jill had reached up and sunk her fingers into the Japanese girl’s hulking bosom, squeezing and clawing for all she was worth.  It had seemed to be having quite an effect as the blows had momentarily stopped – Mari hadn’t liked it one bit as she screamed at the top of her lungs, her free hand momentarily pulling frantically at Jill’s wrists.  God how she’d carried on… Escape had seemed imminent and almost within reach as the redhead gouged her fingers deeper and deeper into the soft orbs… but then the slaps started again with punishing strength and regularity.  Jill couldn’t recall much more after one particular strike had caused her to lose her grip on Mari’s jugs – the cuffing blow must have knocked her senseless.  Why Mari hadn’t chosen to simply slap her out at that point, however, wasn’t a mystery – clearly, she wanted to put Jill through even more torment.

 “Hora!  Doushita no?  Taerarenai deshou!”

Jill didn’t know any Japanese, but she knew the tone in Mari’s voice all too well.  She couldn’t see her opponent’s face either, but she didn’t need to – the smiling look of superiority that she’d seen before in Mari’s pictures was undoubtedly now as well. 

And why not?  All night long Mari had been a touch faster, a tad stronger.  On top of it all, despite being renowned for possessing the cold and calculating mind of a master tactician, Jill had found herself outmatched at every turn in the battle of wits, wills, and submission holds.  She’d put up a good fight thus far, but now she was down to the last of her reserves.  Every second was spent struggling to stave off exhaustion or the move that would lead to her opponent’s coup de grace. 

Jill felt Mari’s grip on her arms relax just a bit, allowing them to go slack.  However, any notion that she was being given a reprieve was quickly dispelled as the younger woman’s grasp tightened around her wrists.  A low groan built up inside the redhead as her arms were suddenly and forcefully yanked backwards – her voice grew louder and more tortured as the force pulling on her arms decreased then quickly ratcheted up twice in succession until the sound coming out of her mouth was nothing less than a full-fledged scream of agony. 

The unnatural and excruciating strain on her shoulders was only part of the equation though – far worse, perhaps, was the humiliation and the feeling of helplessness.  Mari was toying with her the way a cat would with a wounded mouse, and Jill was powerless to stop it.  As she suffered, the redhead could remember the early days of her career – back then, it had been her putting other girls on display and not the other way around.  She’d fought her fair share of women who were still trying to compete far past their prime, and she’d conquered them all without hesitation, without compassion, and without mercy.  Jill vividly recalled the look of despair in those women’s eyes as she’d tortured them and shown them off like human trophies – she’d relished it so much back then… Now, it was her turn to suffer the same fate. 

Nanimo dekinai wa yoanta,” Mari gleefully taunted, “Hayaku gibu appu shite yo!”

“Shut up…” Jill replied through clenched teeth.  Her voice crescendoed as the words continued to come: “Shut up… Shut up… Shut up!”

The redhead’s outburst was uncharacteristic of her, but her efforts to control herself in the face of the Japanese girl’s torturous holds and irritating verbal jabs were failing – even the most impressive of stoic facades couldn’t last forever against the feelings of rage and helplessness.  Her coppery curls were damp with sweat and hung in her face as she looked out beyond the confines of her and Mari’s small arena, but obscured vision didn’t stop her from hearing the sounds of polite applause from the wealthy audience in attendance.  Despite their manners, their money, and their facade of class, this crowd was just as bloodthirsty as any rabble at a two-bit dive fight club.  It didn’t matter to them who Jill was, or all of the years she’d put her body on the line for their entertainment.  They were enjoying her agony just as much as Mari was.  But Jill was powerless to do anything about it. 

Another hard yank stretched Jill’s body to its breaking point, drawing another anguished cry from her lips.  She wept openly now as she pressed her face against the mattress.  The battle of attrition had been too costly, the vigorous pace of her younger opponent too draining, and the pain ultimately too much for her to handle… How much more could her body take?  How much more willpower did she have left to resist?  And how much longer could she last before she had no choice but to give in?

Abruptly, however, Mari let her go.

Jill breathed a sigh of relief as the Asian finally let go of her wrists and released the hold, allowing her body to relax.  She breahed heavily as she struggled to recover – physical and mental exhaustion were as much her enemy as was the younger woman she was fighting.  No doubt some smartass would declare that she was simply showing her age.

The respite was brief.  As Jill tried to push herself up she was immediately shoved face down into the mattress by Mari, who laid herself out on top of the redhead belly to back.  Jill felt Mari’s arms snaking around her head to apply a sleeper hold – her reaction time was dulled, but she was still had enough fight left in her to grab at Mari’s forearm and block her foe from locking on securely.  A frustrated snarl slipped past Mari’s lips as she tightened her grip with her arm, trying to cinch it up tightly around Jill’s throat, but every ounce of strength the redhead still possessed was channeled towards prying the hold apart.  The two women remained locked in this test of wills and strength for about a minute.  Jill could sense that Mari was weakening… A whine of irritation from the Japanese girl seemed to confirm this.  All she had to do was hold out just a little bit longer… If she could, then she’d be able to escape and turn the tables on the young upstart…

Without warning, Mari pulled back and rolled the two women onto their sides.  As they did, Jill felt Mari’s legs side up from either side of her hips and lock themselves around her waist.  It took Jill a moment to realize what Mari was doing, but it was a moment too long – a split second later, her face twisted in pain and she groaned loudly as her foe’s leg scissors crushed her abdomen.  Due to their positions on the bed the scissor hold lacked significant leverage, but there was still enough power in the Japanese girl’s legs to torment the redhead.  Mari wasn’t concerned by this though – she need not be.  If Jill brought her hands down from her neck to deal with the threat at her waist, Mari would secure the sleeper and that would be the end of things.  If Jill ignored the scissors, they’d eat away at her strength and resistance until she was in no condition to fight back against the sleeper.  It was a sadistic choice, one which the Mistress of Holds would’ve been proud of if she herself hadn’t been on the receiving end of it. 

Mari’s scissor hold loosened then tightened again in rapid sequence, compressing Jill’s waistline with another squeeze.  The redhead grimaced and held out as long as she could, but before long an agonized whine of pain was torn from her lips.  Jill could feel Mari’s arm tightening, inching ever closer to locking in the blood choke securely.  She didn’t have much time.  Letting go with her right hand, she reached behind her for something to grasp on to.  She flailed with her arm for a few moments before her fingers found their quarry – sinking them deeply into Mari’s dark locks, Jill clenched her grip and yanked backwards as hard as she could on her opponent’s hair.  Her efforts were rewarded as Mari shrieked sharply – the younger woman relinquished both holds as she was pulled onto her back.  As her legs came untwined from the redhead’s body Jill rolled forward onto her belly, free from her adversary’s clutches.

More brute force than the image she tried to cultivate for herself, but it was hard to argue with the results.

Propping herself on her forearms, Jill tried to turn and face her foe, but the younger girl had other ideas.  Before she knew it, Mari was pushing at her shoulder and rolling her onto her back – clenching the redhead’s right wrist in her left hand, the Asian was attempting to mount her.  Jill bucked immediately as Mari tried to grapevine her legs and rolled them onto their sides – she reached out and interlocked the fingers of her left hand with those of her opponent’s right before the younger woman could secure both wrists.  Their calves and thighs were all tangled up now – both ladies were focused trying to control the other’s lower body as they struggled for dominance.  Both ladies were breathing hard as they grappled, but Mari was the fresher of the two women; she bucked muscularly and threatened to shove Jill onto her back once more.  The redhead fought valiantly, but her adversary was relentless – she’d have to do something drastic if she didn’t want the tide to turn irrevocably against her.

Avoiding an attempt to secure her left wrist, Jill instead lashed out with the hand.  She was rewarded with a high-pitched squeal as the wild slap connected solidly with Mari’s face – it was enough of an opening for Jill to roll them over again and get on top of the Japanese girl.  Securing Mari’s right wrist in her left hand’s grasp, Jill pushed down with her arms while her opponent pushed back in return.  Their arms flailed and writhed together in clenched grips as they fought for control – Jill was able to pin Mari’s wrists to the bed and pressed down chest to chest, laying herself out on top.  It was a sensual pose, certain to be one of the visual high points of the night, though the redhead couldn’t help but blush a little as it served to once again remind one and all that she was outgunned by the Japanese model.  Her face was a hair’s width apart from Mari’s – she glared with hate down into the younger woman’s eyes and was met with a look of equal angry fury.

Mari still had plenty of fight left in her.  She pushed up and strained to get out from underneath – Jill grit as she called on all her reserves to keep her opponent contained.  Mari began to move her legs, bucking off the mattress and bridging with her hips – with their legs still interlocked she was in complete control over their center of gravity, and with one final deft push upwards she was able to roll Jill off to her side and return to the dominant position on top.

Jill could feel herself fading.  Even worse, Mari could feel it too.  She tried to push up off the bed, even managing to get her shoulders and upper back off the mattress, but was forcefully shoved back down by Mari.  The Asian took great pleasure in slamming Jill’s wrists to the bed above her head just for emphasis.  The redhead twisted her body to the side, trying to unseat her foe, but it took the Japanese model just seconds to push her flat again and retake her straddled position. 

Jill’s second wind had run its course.  She was exhausted now, unable to dislodge the younger woman from atop her.  She could see Mari growing more and more jubilant with each passing second – no doubt fueled by the ever-growing look of despondence on her own face.  Jill hated this feeling of helplessness.  She hated being at the mercy of these younger tramps who couldn’t have held a candle to her in her prime. 

Mari grinned with glee as she lowered herself down and playfully rubbed her bigger breasts against Jill’s face.  The redhead howled in feeble outrage as her breathing passages were buried beneath hot and sweaty flesh.  Releasing Jill’s wrists, Mari encircled her right arm around the older woman’s neck and clasped the back of her skull with the left hand, squeezing tightly as she secured the smother and cinched it up tightly.  Jill’s mind was racing now as asphyxiation began to take hold – she was frantically trying to think of a way out from her precarious position and was coming up with nothing.  At this point, she was too fatigued to physically wrestle her way free.  She was likewise in no condition to try and claw her way out.  She was too proud to tap.  With each passing second her options were disappearing until only a single outcome remained.  Yes – there was only one way that this smother would end.

Mari continued to grind and mash her proud rack against Jill’s beautiful features.  Purring in delight, she leaned in and gave Jill a disrespectful peck on the forehead with her lips, reveling in this triumph.  The redhead was snuggled up tightly in the furnace-like confines of the Japanese model’s cleavage with no hope of escape – it was only a matter of time.  Jill pushed her palms against Mari’s flanks, but to no avail.  It didn’t take long for Jill’s arms to fall to her side on the mattress as her body went limp and relaxed.  The redhead had been emphatically vanquished and knocked out by the Japanese girl’s breasts.

Releasing the smother, Mari sat up and squealed in delight as she posed atop her beaten opponent.  “Atashi no kachi da ne!” she crowed in triumph.

Mari’s celebration was cut short as two hands shot up and encircled her large breasts. 

Jill’s blue eyes were open and blazing with fury as she dug her fingers into the soft flesh and squeezed with all her might.  Faking a collapse had been a gamble, but with no other way out she had been willing to go for broke.  Mari was inexperienced enough to fall for such a ploy and would likely never make that mistake again, but Jill was determined not to give her a second chance tonight.  In the meantime, her tactics were paying off as Mari’s agonized wails filled the air.  The Japanese girl pulled desperately at Jill’s wrists as she tried to extricate herself from her new predicament, but the redhead had no intention of letting go.  Gouging her fingers deep into Mari’s tits, she crushed them in her palms and began to twist them like knobs.  Mari shrieked at the top of her lungs, much to Jill’s delight – she definitely wasn’t handling it well.  The sight and sound of her foe in such distress was a much-needed boost for the redhead’s spirits.

Hanase!  Yaro… Hanase!” Mari screamed.  Despite the language barrier, Jill had a good idea what her opponent was saying. 

Snarling as she struggled to regain her composure, Mari reached down and latched onto Jill’s breasts and retaliated with a death grip of her own.  It was now the redhead’s turn to cringe as her chest exploded in searing pain.  Stifling her own tortured moans proved impossible, but Jill was not deterred.  She instead tightened her grip and squeezed harder, gamely pouring all her efforts into mauling her opponent’s jugs. 

Mari’s cries were growing more and more plaintive as the abuse continued to mount.  Jill let go of the heavy orbs and instead took hold of her nipples, pinching and twisting them between her fingers.  Mari’s voice was cracking as her screams became more sniveling and incomprehensible, and her own grasp on Jill’s tits was waning as well – the wind had clearly been knocked out of the Asian’s sails.  A hard yank downwards got her to relinquish her grip and once again grab at the redhead’s wrists.  It also erased any doubt in Jill’s mind: Mari’s breasts were clearly not up to the task of soaking up this kind of punishment.  Given her physique a weakness like this – or rather, two weaknesses like these – were a fatal flaw, perhaps severe enough to sink any hopes of a successful future career.  Jill marveled that Mari had managed to make it this far without anyone discovering this or exploiting it against her.

Pitiful wails punctuated a second, third, and fourth downward tug that pulled Mari’s upper body down so that she was almost lying flat atop Jill.  She was dead weight and offered no resistance as Jill rolled her off to the side and then onto her back to reverse their positions.  Sitting upright, Jill relaxed her grip and caressed Mari’s ravaged jugs with her fingers and palms.  Staring down at the younger woman, she could see that look in Mari’s eyes that she had seen countless times in her career and was amply familiar with: Jill had Mari beat.  All she had to do now was seal the deal.

The touch of Jill’s hands on tender and aching flesh carried with it an unspoken yet dreadful menace, further demoralizing the Japanese girl.  Mari’s hands were still encircled around Jill’s wrists, but at this point she didn’t have what it would take to free her tortured chest.  Digging her nails into the skin near the top of Mari’s breasts, Jill raked her claws down the entire length of the once-magnificent orbs.  She took her time, going slowly to gouge the Asian’s tits as deeply as she could.  Mari screamed and writhed in agony beneath her – it was clear from the volume of her cries that she had no desire to repeat the experience.

Yamete… Onegai… Yamenasai…” Mari begged.

The younger woman’s words were cut off as Jill again took a firm grasp of the two orbs and yanked upwards on them as hard as she could.  Mari threw her head back and howled at the top of her lungs, her back arching slightly off the mattress in response to the pulling force.  The sight and sound gave Jill a deep sense of satisfaction – no doubt the imagery of that attack would prove to be one of the highlights of the night.  Just for good measure, Jill tightened her grip and gave them another vicious tug as she reared back.  The accompanying sound of a final anguished scream that filled the air was music to the redhead’s ears.

“Give up!  Give up!” Mari sobbed.  Her eyes were brimmed with tears now as she struggled to regain coherence long enough to offer up a submission.  “Iya da… Mou iya da yokonna no…”

Jill’s grasp on Mari’s tits relaxed just a bit, but she wasn’t letting the younger girl off the hook just yet.  “Who defeated you?  Say it so everyone can hear you.”

A… Anta ni wa…” Mari mewled in response.

Jill’s claws sank into the Japanese girl’s tits again, cutting Mari off mid-sentence.  Her words ceased and were instead replaced by an anguished shriek.  The redhead squeezed and crushed the ravaged orbs between her fingers and palms – she also gave them a vicious and heartless twist back and forth just for good measure. 

“In English, you little bitch!” the redhead demanded with a loud shout.

The Japanese girl was absolutely beside herself – she’d do anything at this point to make her torment stop.  “You!” she wailed as loudly as she could, “You defeated me!”

Jill gave the younger girl’s mauled breasts another agonizing wrench, yielding another tortured scream.  “Now, who’s the better woman?  Say it!”

“Jill!  Jill is the strongest!” Mari bawled, “You are better!  Onegai… Taerarenai…”

A part of the redhead wanted to continue mauling Mari’s pendulous orbs.  A part of her wanted to pay her younger opponent back for all of the youthful insolence she’d shown.  Part of her wanted the girl to suffer all of the pent-up rage and fury that had built up from every insult and wound that she’d endured over the course of her long career.  But even as she dug her fingers deeper into the pliant flesh, Jill could feel Mari’s own hold on her wrists relaxing – the pain had finally become too much for her as she mercifully lapsed into unconsciousness.  It took a moment for Jill’s senses to return and her bloodlust to abate, but the sound of applause again filling the air left her with a new realization – she had won.

She had won.

Jill looked up from her defeated adversary beneath her to the spectators in front of her on the room’s other side.  They were cheering enthusiastically and greatly entertained by the events that had transpired in front of them.  A knowing smirk crossed the redhead’s lips – had the outcome been the opposite, these people would in all certainty be celebrating Mari’s triumph with equal enthusiasm.  But that’s not how it had ended, had it?  She had met her formidable opponent in combat, and the result had been a confirmation of her own superiority, not Mari’s.

She was, after all, a fighter to the end – no challenge was too great, no opponent too daunting.  She would never quit and never surrender; she would fight and give it her all until there was nothing left to give.  That was the fate she was consigned to, and the redhead wouldn’t have it any other way.

Climbing off the bed, Jill retrieved Mari’s red and white top from the floor; she then reached down and untied the strings to her defeated opponent’s bottoms, taking the other half of the swimsuit from her as well.  The bikini was a truly fine piece that would make an excellent addition to her collection.  The redhead raised her arm and held it aloft – she reveled in the audience’s adulation as she displayed her newest trophy for all to see.

Jill smiled.  She felt young.

The End

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