The Society – Danielle vs Emilia by The Scribbler

Emilia stood alone, her back to the wall, and idly surveyed the room.  Knots of people stood engaged in conversation – the men in suits or sports jackets with open-necked shirts, the women in a variety of evening wear, from long gowns and cocktail dresses to short party dresses that barely covered the essentials.  Waiters, both male and female, glided among the guests bearing trays of canapés and drinks.

She took little notice of the panoramic views of downtown Manhattan, afforded by the floor-to-ceiling windows that spanned three sides of the enormous living room.  This was her sixth time here and though she loved New York City, there were much better ways to enjoy it than from forty floors up through a pane of glass.

Business brought her here often from her native England, and she tried whenever possible to make those visits coincide with these party.  This was no ordinary cocktail reception; this was the Society – the most exclusive and secretive gathering of catfighters in North America.  Most fighters had never heard of its existence.  To fight in this room was a privilege granted to very few.  Emilia was one of those few.

She had fought here only once, the very first time she had attended.  That was the only way that a fighter could gain admission to the Society’s ranks – by fighting and beating one of the current members, chosen by vote or sometimes at random.  You weren’t invited to join the Society – you were only given a chance to prove yourself worthy.  Emilia had done so, though it had been the toughest fight she had ever experienced.

She decided to rejoin the party, and turned to check herself in the mirrored wall before she did so.  Of mixed descent – her father was English, her mother Chinese – her appearance always turned heads.  Her heart-shaped face and high cheekbones set off her dark almond-shaped eyes, framed by the dark tresses of her hair that fell to her waist, shot through with lighter highlights she had had put in, just the week before, for something different.    

Tall at 5’7” and possessed of a strikingly curvaceous figure thanks partly to genetics and partly to an excellent and very expensive plastic surgeon in Miami, she made a point of dressing to show off her body.  Tonight she had worn a short halter dress, scarlet to match her lipstick and nails, that plunged low in the front and revealed the impressive swell of her voluptuous bosom.  It left her arms, shoulders and legs bare, showing off her feminine but well-sculpted physique, and clung to the smooth curves of her lithe torso.  Her four-inch stiletto sandals made her almost as tall as many of the men in the room.

Moving among the crowd, she smiled to a few people, polite and friendly toward the men and some of the women, but more reserved toward the other catfighters in the room.  With honor, dignity and big money at stake, it didn’t pay to make too many friends here.

She noticed a striking brunette in a red dress chatting with an older couple, and joined their group momentarily.  “Hello, Tiffany,” she smiled, interjecting herself into the conversation, “welcome back.  I wasn’t sure you’d be here, after…well, you know.”

The brunette’s eyes flared briefly.  “I’m working real hard to make sure that doesn’t happen again, honey,” she retorted with an edge in her voice.  “Heaven help the next bitch who decides to face me.”

Emilia’s eyes glided up and down Tiffany’s body – indeed she did look even harder than she had before her last fight here, which had not ended well for her.  “I guess we’ll see when the time comes, won’t we?”  She smiled and moved on.

Michael – she didn’t know his surname – the owner of the apartment and host of the party, stood talking with a few people near the middle of the room, on the huge square padded rug where the fights took place – or mostly took place, since she had seen fighters take their battles all over the room, literally bouncing each other off the walls at times.

She stepped up beside him, and he turned to greet her with a smile.  “Hello Emilia, welcome back.  Glad you were able to make it again.”

She smiled back warmly.  She had no reservations about being friendly with Michael since he wasn’t going to be trying to tear her hair out on this very spot in the near future.  “I try to arrange my travel schedule to be in New York whenever you’re getting the Society together.”

A woman was standing at his other elbow, whom Emilia didn’t recognize.  Shorter than Emilia by a few inches, she was slightly more heavily built which probably put her close to Emilia’s weight.  She always found herself unconsciously making such comparisons with other fighters – and this woman was most definitely a fighter.

She had an oval-shaped face – possibly some Latin origin, maybe even a little Native American, Emilia was not sure – and straight dark-brown hair that fell mid-way down her back.  She wore a black mini-dress in shimmering black spandex, similar in style to Emilia’s own, which revealed the powerful muscles of her arms, shoulders and bare legs – not to mention the smooth roundness of her proud, jutting breasts and a deep, dark valley of cleavage.

“Emilia, I don’t think you’ve met Danielle,” said Michael.  “Danielle’s from out west, and is joining us for the first time.”

Emilia smiled coolly.  “Oh, so she’s here to see if she’s got what it takes to play with the big girls, is she?”  She extended her hand.  “Nice to meet you.”

Danielle raised an eyebrow as she took Emilia’s hand.  “I’m here to kick the ass of whichever bitch they put up against me.”  Her grip was firm. Emilia made sure that her own was firmer.  

“Really?”  Emilia let her eyes rove up and down the woman’s body, overtly sizing her up.  Nevertheless, she allowed the doubt to hang in her voice.  Let the newcomer squirm a little.  She looked capable at first glance, but looks could be deceiving and besides, this woman had WAY too much attitude for her own good.

Danielle’s dark eyes bored into hers.  “Yeah…really.”  She gave a flick of her head, tossing her hair.  “So you’re a Brit, huh?”

“Yes,” replied Emilia.  Her accent often seemed incongruous to people here.  They expected her to speak with an American accent or a Chinese one.  The London accent always seemed to provoke questions.

“Well, why don’t you fuck off back there?” snapped Danielle sharply.  Michael and the other people in the circle of conversation gaped.

Emilia’s eyes narrowed as her shoulders tensed, struggling to restrain the slap in the mouth that this bitch so richly deserved.  “Careful…girlie,” she retorted, her voice a careful monotone, “or somebody’s going to teach you some manners…painfully.”

Danielle sniffed.  “Well…girlie,” her pronunciation was a blatant parody of Emilia’s accent, “it sure as hell won’t be you!”

“Don’t be so sure.”  She half-turned to Michael.  “Let me take her on, Michael.  I’d love the chance to wipe the smirk of this dirty little scrubber’s face.”

Michael looked from Emilia to Danielle and back again.  “Well, we do need an opponent for her,” he conceded.  “We were going to have the guests vote on it, but let me ask around and see what people think.”  By ‘people’ Emilia knew he meant the committee – the shadowy inner circle of the Society who bankrolled its operations and who made the decisions.  She didn’t know who they were, though Michael himself was evidently part of it.  He excused himself from the three other people who had just witnessed the exchange, and stepped away.

“You’d better pray they pick somebody else,” Danielle warned Emilia in a low voice.  “I will fuck you up bad, bitch!”

Emilia smiled icily back.  “You’d better pray that they pick somebody else, or your first fight in this room will be your last.”  She turned her back on Danielle and walked away, cutting off any further retort.  Cocky bitch!  She hoped the committee would agree and she would be the one to have the arrogant newcomer writhing in pain on the floor at her feet.  She had some highly inventive ideas about how to wipe the smirk off the little slapper’s face, both during and after the fight.  See how arrogant she was after Emilia used her like a two-bit whore in front of everybody.

She picked her way through the room, making smalltalk here and there, but she could not shake the slight annoyance at the little skank’s tone.  Several times she glanced across the room and saw Danielle’s eyes staring at her malevolently.  Well, the bitch could stare all she wanted.  If the Society decided that she would be the one to test the new arrival, then Danielle would find out that it took a lot more than a fierce stare to make it in this room.  She wouldn’t be the first one to learn a harsh lesson here, and be sent crawling back to whatever cess-pit fight club that she came from.

It was not long before she heard Michael’s raised voice above the babble of conversation, which quickly died away.  All heads turned to face him as he stood by the windows with the backdrop of the Empire State Building behind him.  “Ladies and gentlemen, as many of you know, tonight we welcome another prospective member to our gathering.”  He placed a hand on Danielle’s shoulder as she stood to his right, staring unsmilingly around the room.  Her gaze met Emilia’s once more, and both women slitted their eyes venomously.

“Danielle comes to us from out on the west coast,” continued Michael, “and she’s gotten quite a reputation out there…enough to bring her to our attention.”  He glanced down at Danielle.  “Think you can hold your own in the big leagues?”

“Damn right,” replied Danielle without hesitation.  Her eyes again darted to Emilia.

“We’ve already had one member offer to test Danielle on behalf of the Society,” Michael added, “and the committee has agreed to allow it.”  His gaze followed Danielle’s.  “Emilia?”

There were more than a few whispered conversations as Emilia made her way over to stand on Michael’s left.  Most of the people in the room had seen her fight before, and knew just what she was capable of dishing out.  Evidently more than a few that seen or at least heard of Danielle also, since there were a number of nods between her and the newcomer.  Emilia knew she could not afford to be cocky.  Nobody was invited to this room unless they had earned the right to be here.  Nevertheless, she was going to enjoy this.

“Oh good, it’s the Brit bitch!” sneered Danielle as she approached.  “I was hoping it was your sorry ass they’d give me to chew.  I am SO gonna put you in your place!”

“Just as long as you remember, my place will be sitting on your face while you beg for mercy, you cocky cow!” retorted Emilia.

“Gonna make you scream, cunt!”

“Only with laughter at you and your bloody arrogance!” Emilia shot back drily.

Michael held up his hand.  “Ladies!  LADIES!!!” The patient smile on his face showed that he wasn’t entirely sure that the term was appropriate.  “We can go on like this all night, but let’s settle things properly!  Both of you, be back here in fifteen minutes.”

*****

Danielle followed a blonde-haired, black-clad attendant down a long, dimly lit hallway.  The woman had appeared at her shoulder as if by magic, Danielle’s purse in her hand, as Michael had ordered her and Emilia away to make themselves ready for the fight.  After they passed several closed doors on either side, the woman ushered her through one that stood slightly ajar.  

Danielle found herself in a large bedroom with white carpet, walls and ceiling.  The furniture – a king-sized bed flanked by twin night stands, an armoire, a couch and a full length wall mirror – were all made from black lacquered wood.  The only lighting came from twin wall lamps above the night stands and from the adjoining ensuite bathroom, visible through a door in the corner.

“I’ll be back in fifteen minutes,” said the woman.  “Don’t forget to read that.”  She pointed to a sheet of paper that lay on the nearest night stand.  After ensuring that Danielle saw it and nodded, she closed the door behind her as she left.

Fifteen minutes.  It wouldn’t take her nearly that long – hell, she was ready to tear the bitch apart right now!  She crossed to the couch and set her purse down on one end of it, bristling.  “Reeeaaallly!” she drawled, mimicking Emilia’s accent under her breath.  Cocky cunt, dissing her like that, the moment they met!  She was going to bitch slap the Brit all the way back to London!  This was her chance, her ticket to the big time – she knew what membership of the Society could mean to her future – and she wasn’t going to let some stuck up foreigner fuck it up for her.  If she had to roll right over this bitch to get there, then that was just fine with her.  

She took off her jewelry – earrings, wrist-watch, bracelet and necklace – which all went into the inside pocket of her purse.  She normally wore a barbell in her belly button but she had removed it before coming here tonight, as she always did when she was fighting.  She had seen a few fools leave their jewelry on, and pay the price when it got accidentally or even deliberately torn out during a fight.  Thank God she had never been that stupid.

She kicked off her shoes, then reached up behind her neck and unfastened the clasp on her dress, pushing it down around her waist.  Her breasts barely fell as she removed the restraint of the dress, and she granted herself a small smile of pride.  She wriggled out of the dress and laid it on the bed, leaving her in a black spandex thong that gleamed in the dim light with an almost wet look.

Crossing to the night stand, she picked up the sheet of paper pointed out by the attendant and read through it quickly.  It consisted only of three short paragraphs.  The first was an admonition about excessive violence, warning that major blood-letting or serious injuries would not be tolerated.  Danielle smiled to herself.  There were plenty of ways she could make a mess of this bitch, without actually making a mess.

The second paragraph assured her that removing her opponent’s bikini during the fight was encouraged, and that the winner would take the loser’s bikini as a trophy after the conclusion of the fight.  That assumed there would be anything left of whatever the skank wore by the time Danielle was done with her.

The final point encouraged humiliating her opponent during the fight and afterward.  She gave a dismissive snort of laughter.  She wouldn’t need any encouragement – none at all.

Beside the sheet of paper stood a bottle of body oil, and she applied it quickly and evenly over her entire body from her chin to the tops of her feet.  She checked in the mirror and smeared a little more oil onto her firm buttocks before she was satisfied that her bare skin glistened to her satisfaction.  It didn’t matter a damn in the fight, but she wanted to look her best nonetheless.  This first fight would not be her last here – she swore a silent oath – and the next bitch she fought would remember her from this time.

She took her bikini top, which matched the thong, from her purse and slipped it over her head, stretching it beneath her bosom, snugging them in place before she tied the lower strap tightly behind her back and adjusted the cups to seat her breasts securely.  They were going to be attacked – they had been since her very first fight – but there was no use making it too easy.  Besides, that Brit bitch had an equally easy set of targets with her silicon titties.  Danielle looked forward to sinking her nails into them and hearing the skank scream.  She went into her warm-up routine.

When the anonymous attendant returned to collect her a few minutes later, she was ready, wrapped in a black silk robe, emblazoned across the back with the gold monogram of the Society.  Without a word, she followed the blonde out into the hallway, and returned to the living room.

The lights were brighter now, and it somehow seemed warmer in the room, though that may just have been her own pulse beginning to race at the thought of the coming battle.  The partygoers had cleared away from the center of the room, clustered around the edges and in the corners, leaving the big black rug bare of people.  

Danielle threaded through the crowd  and as she emerged at one corner of the rug, she saw that Emilia was already there, at the opposite corner, watching her steadily with a quiet smile on her face.  “You won’t be smiling when I get done with you, bitch!” Danielle called out, pointing her finger at her adversary.

Emilia’s smile widened for a moment.  “We’ll see about that,” she replied calmly.   Her hands moved to her waist, unfastening the belt of her robe.  She let it slide slowly down her arms, revealing her own body, dressed – though barely – in an emerald green bikini that seemed painted onto the curves of her flesh.  Her shoulders seemed even broader than before, her muscles better defined now after her warm-up.  Her arms gleamed in the bright lights.  Her proud breasts thrust hard at her straining bikini top, stretched so tight that two dark circles appeared faintly through the tiny triangles.  In their centers, her nipples pressed firmly at the thin fabric.  Her belly was firm and flat, the muscles faintly visible through her bronzed skin.  The brief bottoms pressed firmly against the swell of her mound below her belly, again so tight that they created a crease between her nether lips.  Her bare legs shone, toned muscles rippling as she strode forward, stopping in the center of the arena, displaying herself to Danielle, and to the crowd.  There were murmurs of admiration from the audience.  

Danielle’s eyes narrowed.  So the bitch liked to show off.  Two could play at that game..  She stepped forward onto the rug, feeling the thickness of it beneath her bare feet.  “Time to put your money where your mouth is, bitch!”  she taunted.  “Let’s see if you can handle this.”  She unbelted her own robe.

*****

Emilia watched as the newcomer slowly opened her robe, holding it wide, displaying her body first to Emilia, a show of intimidation, before she let it slip down her arms, revealing herself to the entire room.  Like Emilia, her shoulders and arms were lithe and toned, muscular yet feminine at the same time.  She wore a black thong bikini that shone beneath the overhead lights.  The top struggled to contain the rounded orbs of her bountiful breasts, her flesh swelling around the edges of the tight-stretched material. 

Below the jut of her bosom, her belly was hard, her abs evident.  The black triangle of her thong clung tight to her crotch, the straps riding high on her trim hips.  Her legs were shapely but powerful.  As before, quiet rumbles of admiring conversation spread through the onlookers.

Their eyes met.  Danielle’s smile had vanished, but the other woman’s face betrayed no apprehension, only a steely resolve.  Danielle strode forward, approaching rapidly, her eyes fixed on Emilia’s, only stopping when their breasts brushed one another, nipples dueling through the thin restraint of their bikini tops.

Emilia’s lip curled briefly.  “I’m going to enjoy sending you home, you cocky little slag.”  She took another half-step into Danielle and their chests bumped, rocking Danielle backwards slightly.

She was taller than Danielle – three or four inches – but the two were virtually equal in weight and power, as Danielle proved when she recovered and stepped into Emilia.  This time it was Emilia’s turn to take a slight step back.  “Good luck with that…whore,” she hissed, glaring up into Emilia’s eyes.  “Nobody gets between me and what I want…least of all you!”  Emilia could see from the look in her eyes that she meant every word.  They glared at one another, muscles tensed, trembling with the desire to attack.

“Back up a little, ladies,” cautioned Michael from a few yards away, at the edge of the arena.  

Danielle did so, and then stumbled back a few steps more as Emilia suddenly slammed both hands into her shoulders.  She bristled, anger flaring in her eyes, and almost leapt at her opponent.  Emilia winked at her.  “Temper, temper.”

Danielle opened her mouth but had no time to come back with an angry retort before Michael clapped his hands sharply together.  “Fight!”

Emilia threw herself at the newcomer, teeth drawn back in a snarl, eager to show this cocky little bitch just how far out of her depth she was.  “Let’s have you, slag!” she yelled.  Danielle likewise lunged at her, arms up, fingers hooked, nails out, ready to claw and tear hair and flesh.  “You’re mine, bitch!”

They hurtled toward one another across the arena, neither willing to dodge, neither giving an inch, a savage contest of wills.  Emilia threw her arms up, ready to lock up with the American, but just as they were about to crash bodily into one another, chest to chest, she ducked low, pulled her arm back, and slammed her fist forward with all her might.

“UNNGHHH!!!”  Danielle’s eyes and mouth flew open wide.  The breath stormed out of her chest with enough force that Emilia felt it on her back as Danielle folded forward over her arm.  Emilia whooped in vicious triumph.  That would teach the slut a lesson!  

The thought was interrupted though, as Danielle reacted with lightning speed, twisting to the left, sliding past and letting Emilia’s fist slide off her hip.  Emilia screamed out as her opponent thrust a hand in her hair and jerked her head backward.  Pain flared through her scalp and her neck.  Danielle’s momentum jerked her off her feet, sending her down on her back.  She howled in agony as Danielle jerked around in a half-circle, still clinging to her hair, dragging her backwards a few feet across the rug.

Desperate to avoid letting her opponent close in behind her, Emilia flipped over onto her knees, scrambling forward, pulled along by Danielle’s grip.  “Gotcha, Brit bitch!” yelled Danielle as she reversed direction and leapt forward, driving her knee up at Emilia’s chin.  Emilia pulled her head back sharply, ignoring the new burst of pain in her scalp as Danielle hauled hard on her hair.  The newcomer’s knee brushed her nose.

With a roar she drove her arm up again, between Danielle’s legs, grabbing a handful of crotch, squeezing and twisting.  Danielle shrieked in shock and pain.  “CUNT!!!” With a furious shove she hurled Emilia away from her, stumbling backward herself, clutching her loins.  She glared at Emilia with venom, tears in her eyes.  “You mauled my pussy!”

Emilia sneered.  “What’s the matter, too rough for you, luv?” she asked mockingly as she rose to her feet, wiping away her own tears.  Her scalp stung, but pain went with the territory here.  She laughed out loud.  “Welcome to the Society, bitch!”

Danielle cursed and threw herself at Emilia again.  This time they slammed together, crushing their breasts between their straining bodies, legs trembling with the effort as each struggled to force the other backward.  Emilia wrapped an arm tightly around her adversary’s torso, holding herself against the American as they hissed at one another, faces inches apart, sweat already beading on their foreheads.  

Reaching up, she grabbed a fistful of Danielle’s hair and yanked as hard as she could, snapping the other woman’s head back.  Danielle shrieked with pain, distracted, and Emilia forced her back a step, suppressing a shudder as her erect nipples dueled with Danielle’s through their bikini tops.  With a roar she surged her body forward and threw Danielle away from her.  The audience buzzed with excitement and appreciation at the show of strength, but she paid them no heed.  For now, she had more important things on her mind than the adoration of the crowd.

She saw the momentary look of shock on her opponent’s face, quickly masked by one of fury, and Danielle threw herself forward again.  Emilia braced herself to meet this second charge but this time Danielle’s arms whipped upward and her fingers gripped Emilia’s firm breasts.  She twisted viciously.  Emilia threw back her head and screamed, grabbing at her tormentor’s wrists, trying to ease the agony.

Emilia tried frantically to pull herself free, screeching in pain as Danielle swung her around by her breasts, using them like handles.  Danielle snarled in cruel glee.  Staggering, trying to stay on her feet, Emilia dug her nails deep into the flesh of Danielle’s forearms.  Her enemy’s grip faltered for a moment, fingers slipping off her breasts, hooking into her bikini top.  Danielle reversed direction, hauling her back in the opposite direction, and Emilia almost fell.

She sent a backhanded blow at Danielle’s head, rocking the newcomer sideways.  Still her adversary did not let go, jerking her back and forth, disorienting her, preventing her from getting a firm footing to fight back.  The furious pace of this battle was like nothing she had ever experienced.  This bitch was trouble.  She realized she was going to have to find something extra, something deep within herself, if she was going to come out on top.  That, and maybe a little luck too.

Mercifully she felt the lower strap of her bikini top begin to slip under the savage strain until, with a sudden jolt, the clasp gave way.  Emilia tucked her chin down as the top pulled away over her head, sending her stumbling backward, leaving Danielle clutching the remains of her bikini top in frustrated fury.

Danielle flung the ruined garment aside and advanced on Emilia again.  “Lucky break, bitch, but that’s nothing compared to what I got planned for you!”  She threw up her arms again to grasp at Emilia’s breasts, but Emilia slammed her own forearms upward under the American’s, knocking her hands up and away.  She aimed an uppercut under Danielle’s ribs, and Danielle grunted at the impact, rising onto her toes.

The American grabbed Emilia by the hair at the back of her neck and jerked her forward.  Anticipating a head butt, Emilia tucked her chin down and twisted her head away to protect her face, but that was not Danielle’s intention.  She jerked Emilia’s head down, doubling her over, and hammered a knee up into her belly.

“NNNGGGHHH!!!”  Emilia gave an explosive grunt as her adversary’s hard knee drove deep into her abs, sending pain coursing through her.  Her knees went weak and she would have fallen but for Danielle’s grip on her hair.  She clutched her arms defensively across her belly but before she could do so, another knee almost lifted her off her feet.  With a cry of anguish, she fell to her knees.

Danielle retained her grip on Emilia’s hair, nails digging into her scalp as she rammed her knee up again and again in a frenzied assault aimed at Emilia’s upper belly and breasts.  Gritting her teeth against the pain in her head and neck, Emilia wrapped her arms across her body and tried to cover up from the flurry of blows, grunting at each impact regardless of whether she took it in her aching breasts or caught it on her arms.  Either way, the blows rocked her and she struggled to stay upright, knowing it would only be worse if she lost her balance.

Danielle paused, breathing hard from the effort of her savage attack.  She planted her feet and went to work again on Emilia’s long hair.  Emilia struggled to stay on her knees as Danielle jerked her violently back and forth.  “Stuck up bitch!  I’m gonna claw you bald!”  

Emilia reached up to grab at the American’s wrists and ease the pain in her scalp but even so, Danielle shook her like a dog with a bone, rattling her brains, slapping her breasts hard against one another.  They felt as though they were on fire from the cruel attentions of Danielle’s nails, but Emilia knew she had to ignore the pain, had to focus, to fight back.

Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision, but she struck out blindly with her fist aimed at her adversary’s body.  Danielle’s fierce shaking made the blow go wide, skidding off the other woman’s hip, and the momentum pitched Emilia forward.  Her face slammed into Danielle’s lower belly, right above the waistline of her bikini bottoms.

Emilia grunted in pain at the impact, and in frustration that the attack had gone awry, but now she knew where the bitch was, despite the tears.  She released her remaining grip on Danielle’s wrist and threw her arm around the American’s upper thighs, below her butt.  Rearing back, ignoring the pain in her scalp, she drove her fist upward almost from the floor, and felt a savage joy as her knuckles hammered Danielle’s abs.  She felt the grip on her hair falter, and slammed her fist up again, then again, roaring with the effort. “Let…GO…BITCH!!!”

Danielle gave a harsh grunt as the first blow went in, then an even louder one at the second.  The third blow dragged a long groan from her parted lips and Emilia felt the American’s abs begin to soften, her fists driving deeper with each blow.  Danielle tore her hands free of Emilia’s hair, taking several strands with them, and grabbed her belly to protect herself.

With a cry of mingled rage and relief, Emilia surged up off her knees.  She speared her hands up under the straps on either side of Danielle’s bikini bottoms as she rose, wrenching them up violently into Danielle’s crotch.  

“UUUNNNGGGHHH!!!” Danielle’s mouth opened wide and she screamed in torment as Emilia’s vicious wedgie almost lifted her off the ground.  Emilia’s chest slammed into hers, and she stumbled back, pulling Emilia with her a few steps until she could let go.  She shook her head to clear her thoughts, swishing her hair off her face with the back of her hand.

Danielle stumbled backward, finally finding her balance, pausing to pull her bikini bottoms out of her crotch.  The knot over one hip had come partly loose, and her eyes darted downward for a moment as she reached to repair it.

That was all the opening Emilia needed.  She leapt forward, her fist lashing out for Danielle’s belly, eager to hammer her injured abs again.  Danielle abandoned her attempt to re-tie her bikini top and threw up an arm to block the punch, only to have Emilia pull back at the last instant, instead driving her other fist hard into Danielle’s left breast, crushing it into her ribs.  The American reeled back another step with a shriek of pain.  She cupped her breast with one hand and snarled, “Oh, bitch I am SO gonna fuck you up!”

She threw herself at Emilia, crouched low, her shoulder aimed at Emilia’s already battered belly.  Emilia clenched her teeth and at the last instant, whirled to her right, so her enemy’s shoulder grazed off her hip instead of hammering her abs the way Danielle intended.  

As Danielle flew past her with another frustrated cry, Emilia thrust her hands down, one in Danielle’s dark hair, one in the waistband of her bikini bottoms, and jerked upward.  Danielle’s cry increased in pitch as pain joined her anger.  Emilia heaved harder as she spun in a half-circle, using Danielle’s momentum, unbalancing the American before she released her and sent her stumbling sideways across the arena before she could regain her footing.

Danielle’s bikini bottoms were half-way down her thighs, hanging by one string, and she tore them loose with a frustrated click of her tongue, spinning to face Emilia again.  Emilia grinned at her.  “What’s the matter, little girl?  Things not going quite the way you wanted?  Thought this was going to be easy, did you?  Next thing you’ll be shaking your fists and stamping your feet…a proper tantrum!”  She laughed.

Her enemy’s face contorted in rage.  “Fuck you!”  She launched herself across the arena at Emilia.  The Brit stood her ground and, as Danielle reached her with arms outstretched, she grabbed her enemy’s wrist and whirled left this time, thrusting out her leg.  Danielle tripped and went down.  Emilia lost her hold on Danielle’s wrist and the other woman hit the floor on her shoulder and rolled away, over and over, distancing herself from Emilia.

Emilia charged Danielle as the American came to her feet.  Her scream of anger brought her opponent whirling around to face her, and Danielle gave her own snarl of rage as Emilia reached out with clawed fingers to tear at her breasts.  Danielle threw up her own arms defensively and grabbed Emilia’s wrists, backpedaling across the arena as Emilia struggled to free her hands, animal grunts issuing through her clenched teeth.

Suddenly Danielle threw herself backwards, pulling Emilia with her as she fell, curling her back to absorb the impact as she slammed to the floor.  Emilia gave a shriek of enraged surprise as Danielle’s foot rammed into her belly, and she found herself flying over Danielle’s head, crashing to the floor with a jarring thud that drove the breath out of her and made her see stars for a moment.  Damn, this little bitch was fast!

Before she could recover enough to roll away, Danielle leapt at her, landing with her knees across Emilia’s upper arms, trapping them against the floor.  Emilia cried out in sudden fear, jerking her shoulders desperately back and forth, trying to free her arms as the American loomed over her.  “Now you’re mine, SKANK!” Her fists hammered down into Emilia’s unprotected breasts, and Emilia’s cry of fear turned to a squeal of pain.

Danielle rained blows into her breasts and belly.  Pain threatened to paralyze her, not just her hurting body but her mind too, robbing her of her ability to think, and therefore to fight.  She tried to block it out, tried to focus her fighting spirit, but dammit it hurt SO much!  She writhed in a frenzy beneath Danielle but she could not manage to wrench her arms free, and the pain it caused her shoulders only made things worse.

The American paused her punishment for a moment and stared down into Emilia’s tearful face.  “What’s the matter, little girl?” she mimicked scornfully.  “Things not going the way you want?”  She slapped Emilia’s red, heaving breasts back and forth against each other.  “Let’s hear YOU throw a tantrum, Brit bitch!”  She twisted Emilia’s right nipple viciously and Emilia screamed like a demon, arching her back in agony.

She blinked the tears from her eyes, glaring up at Danielle with hatred, trying to not to look at the American’s bare crotch hovering inches above her head.  If the sadistic little bitch would focus on the fight instead of just taunting and torturing her, she could put a face-sit on her and it would probably be over.  She pushed the idea from her mind, not wanting to even think about in case she somehow betrayed the thought to Danielle.  She needed to get out of this predicament – fast.

“Look at her squirm!” Danielle called out to the room, then stared down at Emilia again.  “That’s the best you can do, bitch?”  She slapped Emilia’s left breast, harder, and Emilia yelped.  “Thought you Society sluts were supposed to be tougher than this!”  She leaned forward, reaching down to shove her fingers into Emilia’s wounded abs and twist in a vicious belly claw.

Emilia saw her opening.  As Danielle reached down, she clenched her teeth and, roaring at the pain in her belly, whipped her legs up.  Her feet went over Danielle’s shoulders and she clasped her ankles tight together behind the American’s neck.  With a mighty heave she suddenly straightened her body out again, jerking Danielle forward, slamming her feet down to the floor, and Danielle’s head along with them.

The American crashed down face first into the rug, and Emilia sobbed with relief as Danielle’s weight came off her arms and she was able to shake them free.  She rolled to her left, tipping Danielle off her to the side, keeping her legs locked tight around her enemy’s neck.  Danielle’s hands clawed at her ankles, trying desperately to free herself, gagging.  “How’s…that…for…tough???” gasped Emilia as she poured on the pressure.  She slammed a fist into Danielle’s belly.  The American’s body jerked and she gave a wheezing, breathless cry.  

Emilia drew her knees up sharply, jerking even harder on Danielle’s neck, then slammed them down yet again, driving her opponent’s face into the floor with an audible thud.  The impact broke the grip of her ankles however, and Danielle rolled free, gasping for breath, clutching her neck.  Emilia kicked out hard again, and her heel caught Danielle between her shoulders, pitching her onto her belly again.

Emilia too rolled away and came up to her knees, wincing at the protests of her aching muscles.  She was hurt, and she knew it.  The little bitch was good – maybe even good enough to win, but Emilia was not about to let that happen without using everything she had – every ounce of strength and skill, every trick she knew – to stop her.

She rose to her feet and strode toward Danielle as the American pushed up onto her hands and knees.  Putting her own pain out of her mind, she bent and grabbed Danielle’s ankles.  Danielle shrieked in shock as Emilia hauled on her legs, dropping her onto her belly once more.  The Brit lifted her legs and hauled her backwards on her breasts into the center of the arena as Danielle screamed out curses.  “Let go you FUCKING BITCH!”  She clawed at the rug.

Emilia laughed scornfully.  “Oh sorry!” she replied mockingly.  She dropped Danielle’s legs and bent over her opponent as she lay on her belly.  “Here, let me help you up!”  She hooked her fingers through the lower strap of Danielle’s bikini and wrenched upward, dragging Danielle’s upper torso off the floor.  Danielle gave a grunt of pain as the strap dug into the undersides of her breasts.  That grunt turned into a scream as Emilia’s heel hammered into the base of her spine.

“How’s that feel, slag?” hissed Emilia.  She dropped to her knees astride Danielle’s back, shoving the American forward, hoping to smash her head into the floor again, but Danielle threw her arms out to brace herself.  Emilia jerked hard on the back of Danielle’s bikini, tearing at the knot that held the lower strap in place.  It came free and she let go, grabbing instead for Danielle’s hair, hauling her up, again putting strain on her neck.  “You seem to like mauling my tits, bitch!  Let’s see if you can take it, too!”  Her fist drove under Danielle’s arm to pound the underside of her right breast.

Danielle thrashed wildly in Emilia’s grasp, and her flailing elbow slammed into Emilia’s ribs, just as she drove a second punch into the American’s bosom.  Emilia overbalanced, fell on her side with a curse, and Danielle rolled away, tearing off her displaced bikini top and hurling it away from her.

The two fighters faced each other on their knees, their bodies streaming with sweat that dripped from the ends of their sodden hair, their chins, their elbows.  Hooked fingers dug deep into one another’s breasts as they strained against one another in a desperate struggle of strength and endurance.  Hissing with hate, grunting with extreme exertion, muscles bulged in their legs and arms as each woman did her utmost to force the other back.

“Give it up, skank,” snarled Danielle.  “You’re all used up, and you know it.”

Emilia knew the bitch was bluffing.  Though she felt the burn of fatigue through every muscle of her body, she could see the pain and exhaustion in her enemy’s eyes too.  She curled her full lips back from her teeth in a sneer.  “In your bloody dreams, whore!  You’re just as buggered as I am, you sneaky bitch!”  Her eyes blazed.  “And that’s just the start for you!”

She twisted harder on Danielle’s breasts, her blood red nails gouging deep into the American’s soft flesh.  Danielle howled in agony, but only intensified her grip on Emilia’s own breasts.  Their screams mingled as their contest of strength turned into one of pain – who could deliver, and who could endure, the most.

Emilia ground her teeth so hard her jaw hurt.  The pain in her chest was incredible, sapping her strength, but she knew from her enemy’s screams and the tears in her eyes that she was dealing some serious pain to Danielle too.  She twisted harder, hissing, “Suffer…BITCH!”

Danielle’s face was pinched with pain.  “You…FIRST!”  She suddenly inverted her grip, digging her fingernails deep into the creases beneath Emilia’s breasts, as her thumbs speared into the Brit’s erect nipples.  Emilia’s eyes widened as the pain intensified to a raging white hot demon in her mind, and then Danielle rolled her wrists backward, folding Emilia’s breasts over her hands.  Emilia threw her head back and howled at the ceiling, as it felt as though the bitch was trying to tear her breasts off her chest.

She could resist no longer, and her hands released Danielle’s breasts and flew to her wrists, desperate to stop the torture.  Danielle hung on grimly, shaking Emilia from side to by side by her breasts, her grunts of exertion mixing with Emilia’s shrieks of pain, until finally she hurled Emilia aside.

Emilia collapsed on her belly, gasping, her hair falling across her face.  Her head was swimming from the pain.  She pulled her arms underneath her, pushing up, but before she could rise to her knees, Danielle landed on her back, pinning her on her belly just as she had done to the American, earlier in the fight.

“No you don’t, cunt!” hissed Danielle, close in her ear.  “I’m not done with you yet…not by a long shot!”  She hauled Emilia’s head back by the hair and slipped her other hand under Emilia’s arm to claw at her right breast yet again.  Emilia bit her lip till she thought it would bleed, but still could not contain her cries of misery.

She could not take much more of this torment.  She was an instant away from screaming out her surrender, choking back the words with all that remained of her willpower.  Danielle leaned close to her ear.  “Give it up, skank!  You’re done!”  Emilia felt her pull back and braced herself for a new assault on her tortured breasts, her submission on the tip of her tongue.

Instead, Danielle twisted her body and wrenched hard on Emilia’s bikini bottoms, jerking them up into her crotch, laughing cruelly as she did so.  “Some payback for you, cunt!” she snarled.  Emilia squealed aloud at this new torture, but at least it gave her brutalized breasts some respite.  Besides, the bitch was about to get a surprise, if she could only hang on.  She clenched her teeth against the pain. , 

Danielle discovered Emilia’s surprise to her cost a moment later, when she hauled particularly hard on the back of the bikini.  Emilia screamed as the crotch pulled up viciously into her loins, but the metal clasps over each of her hips pulled free and with a final painful wrench, the bottoms came away from her body, leaving her naked but free of the torture.

The force of Danielle’s violent pull sent her flying forward, her chest slamming down onto Emilia’s back.  With the sudden relief from the torment came a rush of adrenalin through Emilia.  As the American’s hair flopped across her face, she reached up and twisted a handful of it around her wrist, jerking savagely downward, slamming Danielle’s forehead into the floor.

Dazed, Danielle slumped down alongside Emilia, and the Brit sent a vicious elbow into her enemy’s chest as she rolled away.  She knew she should go after Danielle, hurt her, punish her, finish her, but she needed time to recover, time to stop her every muscle trembling from the pain the bitch had inflicted on her.

Thankfully, she saw that though Danielle was stirring, she too was moving away, trying to put some distance between herself and Emilia, to catch her breath and gather her wits.  Emilia reached her feet first, though she was not sure she could stay there.  She gulped air into her lungs, aching in every joint.  It took an effort of will just to raise her arm and push her hair out of her eyes.  She steeled herself.  She couldn’t quit – couldn’t let this arrogant slut beat her.  She faced her foe.

They stood facing each, a pace apart, swaying on their feet, their naked sweat-soaked bodies gleaming in the bright lights of the arena.  Their heads hung low, and they glared at each other with hatred through the lank, dripping rat-tails of their hair.  The audience was deathly quiet, expectant, as the two warriors pushed either to the edge of exhaustion and beyond.

Emilia legs felt like lead as she stepped into Danielle and fired a stinging slap at the American’s head.  The blow came all the way from her hip and felt cumbersome, but Danielle’s parry was equally slow and the slap connected, whipping Danielle’s head sharply to the left, flinging her damp hair across her face.  Danielle let out a guttural cry.  “UNNGHH!!!”  She staggered back a step, and Emilia stepped in again, pressing her advantage.

As Danielle twisted back to face Emilia, her own arm swung up sharply, lashing across Emilia’s cheek, rocking the Brit back on her heels.  Emilia staggered, but caught herself before she fell.  She raised her hand to flip her hair out of her eyes.  “Dirty bitch!  I am SO gonna love sitting on your face when this is over!”

“In your dreams, skank!” growled Danielle, tossing her head dismissively, but the moment’s distraction was all Emilia needed and her hand lashed out again, quicker this time, and her open palm caught her opponent across the left temple.  Danielle stumbled to her right a step before she regained her balance.  “Oh you’ll pay for that, cunt!”  She slapped Emilia hard again.

They stood there toe to toe, trading blows, putting everything into each vicious slap.  Hair and sweat flew in wide arcs as they staggered back and forth, each trying to find an advantage, each struggling to knock her opponent off her feet while keeping her own.  Sharp grunts of effort and pain punctuated each blow.

Emilia lunged again, her arm arcing upward, but this time Danielle swayed her body back and the Brit’s fingers whistled past her nose.  Emilia gave a cry of frustration as the force of her slap made her stumble forward.  “Bad move, slut!” snarled Danielle.  Emilia’s eyes widened and she tensed her body in anticipation as Danielle leaned into her, and the American’s clenched fist drove upward toward the underside of her left breast.

She screamed and pulled her arm in to cover her chest, but Danielle was too quick and her breast bounced upward to slam against her ribcage.  Her scream redoubled in intensity as she stumbled back, covering up.  She couldn’t let the bitch batter her boobs again.  She knew her limitations.  She was tough, but not that tough.  The American had had her on the edge of surrender already with that tactic – the next time, it would work.

Sensing victory, Danielle darted forward.  Emilia backpedaled to stay away from her enemy, trying to think of a way to counter her.  The American was exhausted, she could see that in her eyes, the set of her shoulders, her lethargic movements – but so was Emilia herself.  This fight had to end, and soon.  The question was whether she had the strength – not just physical but emotional too – to end it in her favor.

Danielle increased her pace suddenly, closing in on Emilia, aiming a fist at her left breast.  Emilia lifted her arm higher to block, but Danielle ducked low and hammered her fist instead into Emilia’s abs.  Emilia groaned and hunched over, dropping her eyes from the American’s for an instant.  Danielle’s hand thrust into her hair, jerking her forward, and then Danielle’s knee drove deep into her weakened abs.  Her breath rushed out, she staggered, gasping, fighting to force her lungs to work.

Tears filled her eyes, but still she lashed out blindly, and felt her fist connect.  Danielle grunted sharply, and her grip on Emilia’s hair wavered for a moment.  Emilia struck again, punching, grabbing, twisting as she realized what her fist had connected with.  Danielle roared in agonized rage and clutched at Emilia’s wrist, which was latched onto her crotch.  “You…CUNT!” she hissed through tears of pain.  She too hunched lower and her fist pounded Emilia’s belly again.  

Emilia grunted, but hung on, twisting harder.  Danielle screamed even louder.  Her knees buckled and she barely caught herself before she fell.  She hammered Emilia’s abs a third time.  “Let…GO…SKANK!”  Now it Emilia’s turn to stagger, grabbing at her opponent with her free hand to stay on her feet.

She clenched her hand tighter on Danielle’s pussy lips, and this time Danielle’s renewed shriek assaulted her ears as the American’s whipped forward in an involuntary reaction to the agony in her loins.  Her forehead slammed into Emilia’s shoulder.  Danielle’s legs folded under her, but Emilia was still leaning heavily on her and they sank to their knees together.  The jolt as they hit the floor shook Emilia’s hand loose from her enemy’s loins, and she heard Danielle whimper in relief.

They faced each other on their knees, each with a weary arm around the other’s shoulders, naked bodies pressed together, their sweat mingling.  Emilia drew a deep breath and drew her arm back, fist clenched.  She felt Danielle tense in anticipation, but the American made no attempt to block the blow.  Her body shuddered as Emilia’s fist pounded her left breast.

Emilia’s chest swelled against Danielle’s as she drew breath again, and her opponent pulled her fist back to pummel her.  She grunted hard as Danielle’s knuckles ground into her left nipple, dragging a breathless sob from her trembling lips.  It was small solace that this punch seemed less powerful than the last.  She knew that her own blows too were wavering.  It was a matter of time now – which one of them would falter first?

She reached down and grabbed Danielle’s wrist.  The American lifted her arm, trying to pull herself free, but Emilia held on tight, and suddenly they were locked in another test of strength – such strength as they had left.  They strained at one another, groaning, tears of pain and exhaustion running down their cheeks.

Emilia shoved forward with her shoulder.  Danielle braced herself, blocking the movement.  She gave a rumbling cry, tensing her muscles once again, the volume growing in her throat as she gathered her strength.  As her cry of desperate rage burst from her lips, she thrust own shoulder forward.

This time Emilia was ready.  As the American lunged, she twisted her shoulders and Danielle’s body slid past her own.  Each of them groaned as their bruised breasts scraped across one another, but then Danielle fell forward.  Emilia hung onto her arms and, with a cry of despair, the American flipped onto her back as she fell.

Emilia leaned her weight on Danielle’s arms, holding them pinned against the rug as the exhausted American struggled in vain to free herself, roaring in furious frustration.  She scrambled forward until her shins lay across Danielle’s biceps, and she could at last take the weight off her own aching arms.

Danielle glared up at her, their eyes meeting through the valley of Emilia’s cleavage.  “Get off me, you cunt!” she snarled, squirming her body, wriggling her shoulders to no avail.  “I’ll tear you apart!”

Emilia sneered down at her.  “You’re finished, slag, and you know it.”  She rose up higher on her knees, hr aching thighs protesting at the strain, and shuffled forward a little more so that her own body hid Danielle’s eyes.  “Now it’s time for everyone else to see it too.”

Danielle’s struggles suddenly became more urgent as she realized Emilia’s intent.  “No!  NO!  You….MMPPPHHH!!!” Her panicked protest cut off as Emilia lowered her butt onto Danielle’s face, but she thrashed frantically about, bridging up off the floor, rocking her hips, thrusting back and forth with her legs in a desperate attempt to free herself.

“Shut up and take it, you cocky cow,” Emilia taunted her.  “It’s over!  Admit it!”  She lifted her loins just a little.  “Submit!”

Danielle’s voice was a breathless sob.  “Fuck…you!”

“Not likely!” replied Emilia with a mocking tone as she dropped down on Danielle’s face once more.  Again her opponent thrashed desperately beneath her, but her struggles were slowly weakening.  The little bitch was beaten – now it was time to make her realize it, in no uncertain terms.

These were the moments that reminded her why she did this.  The moments of victory when she knew she was the better woman – stronger, tougher, faster, more agile than her opponent – those moments made it worth all the hard training, all the pain, even the humiliation when a fight didn’t go her way.  She threw back her head and roared in triumph and elation as she ground her hips relentlessly into her enemy’s face.

Danielle kicked her legs up, trying to reach Emilia’s chest or face, but her movements were slower still and Emilia grabbed for her legs, catching the American’s left ankle and wrapping it with her arm.  Danielle screamed out in panic under her, kicking even harder with the other leg, but Emilia grabbed that too and tucked Danielle’s ankles under her armpits, folding her opponent in half underneath her.

“How’s this for style, then?” she called out to the room at large, with a triumphant grin.  “Not just a reverse schoolgirl pin but a matchbook pin too!”  There was laughter and some applause.  She glanced down at Danielle, staring straight at her naked, flushed pussy lips, swollen from the punishment they had taken in this fight, and slicked with sweat.  Emilia raised her hand and spanked Danielle playfully on her pussy, not trying to hurt now.  Her opponent was beaten physically – all that remained was to humiliate her enough that she was beaten mentally too.

Danielle’s captive body jerked and she squealed into Emilia’s crotch.  The sound of that scream, the feeling as her enemy struggled helplessly beneath her, took her beyond elation and into arousal.  These were the moments that were even better than victory – the times when she showed a beaten foe what it truly meant to lose here.  

She knew that by rights, she should wait until after wringing a submission before she took her pleasure from her opponent, but that was more of a guideline than a hard-and-fast rule.  So long as certain limits were observed, the winner was free to do as she wished, and there was no longer any doubt that she was the victor in this contest.  The fires of her lust swelled to full flame at the thought.  She would not – could not – wait any longer.

Grinding her loins down harder, she began to rock atop her opponent, still pinning Danielle tight by her arms and legs.  The American’s breasts rubbed against her belly with each thrust of her hips, hard nipples scoring her skin.  Danielle screamed an unintelligible curse and tried frantically to twist her face away, but Emilia pulled her ankles in tight either side of the American’s head, trapping her in place.

The pace of her hips increased, shaking Danielle’s body, breasts bouncing in time with her own.  Emilia lifted a hand to cup her left breast, lifting, pinching her turgid nipple and rolling it between finger and thumb as she tossed her head, her wet hair sweeping across her back.  Eyes closed, she reveled in the sensations spreading outward from her lower belly, fanning out through her body, making her forget her aching muscles, the bruises, the scratches – making all of that feel like nothing compared to the savage, primal joy that came with the spoils of victory.  She threw back her head, her hair describing a wild arc in the air and spraying sweat across the arena as she screamed out in fulfillment.  “YYYEEESSSSSSSSS!!!”

The intensity of her orgasm was such that it made her feel dizzy, and she hunched down to steady herself as she shuddered and bucked in wild abandon.   She barely heard her own screams of pleasure, let alone Danielle’s cries of pain and anguish as Emilia whipped her battered body back and forth, over and over until at last the terrible force of her lust was spent.  She slowed, gasping for breath, her head hanging between her shoulders.  As she lifted a hand to wipe her sweat-soaked hair out of her eyes, the audience burst into applause.  She grinned, sheepishly triumphant.  Though she utterly adored these moments, she couldn’t quite shake a self-conscious feeling at cumming this hard in front of so many people.

She took a moment to recover her breath, before lifting her hips up off Danielle, shifting her weight a little so she could stare down at her enemy.  Danielle’s face was flushed dark, almost purple.  She gulped air into her starved lungs, her cheeks puffing, glistening with tears, sweat and the juices of Emilia’s climax.  She stared up into Emilia’s eyes but the fierceness and defiance was gone, replaced by embarrassment and humiliation.  She knew – felt – what had just happened to her, and it showed.

“Enjoy that, did you?” sneered Emilia.  She wiggled her hips above Danielle’s face.  “I certainly did!  Want to go again?”  The look of horror on Danielle’s face gave her her answer.  “If not, you’d better give it up now!”  She made another little jerking movement with her hips.

“NO!!!”  The panic in Danielle’s voice made her smile, and brought some chuckles from the audience.  “All right!  All right!  You win!  You WIN!”

Emilia sighed, pleased with the submission but just a little wistful that she didn’t get to use the bitch all over again.  Never mind – with an orgasm that intense, once was enough.  She dropped Danielle’s legs, and the American’s heels hit the rug with a thud.  Danielle lay unmoving, her chest heaving with each labored breath as Emilia rose off her, staring down into her opponent’s tear-stained eyes.  She loved that look – the look they got when they knew that they’d done everything they could to do beat her, and it hadn’t been enough, the recognition in their hearts that here, tonight, they just weren’t good enough.

“Don’t think it’s over just yet, luv,” she said mockingly, “That’s not the only prize I’m taking from you tonight.”  She nudged Danielle in the side of the head with her toe.  “On your belly, bitch!  Come on, roll over!”

Danielle hesitated and Emilia bent over, grabbing the other woman’s arm and jerking her roughly onto her side, then shoving her down on her belly with one foot.  Danielle groaned, writhing weakly as Emilia straightened up again.  “You came here all cocky tonight, thinking you could kick the ass of anyone in the room.  I hope you’ve learned your lesson.  You should thank me for teaching it to you!”  She smiled suddenly.  “Yeah, you should thank me, all right…by kissing my feet!”  She thrust a foot against Danielle’s face.

Danielle shook her head in shame.  She tried to push herself up away from Emilia’s foot but her arms, exhausted by the fight and then numbed by Emilia’s cruel pin, did not have the strength to support her.  “DO IT!” ordered Emilia.  With a sob, Danielle stretched her neck slightly, until her pursed lips came in contact with Emilia’s toes.  “Properly!  No shirking now!”  There were murmurs of approval from the onlookers.  Emilia’s heart swelled.  Not only had she won but she had shown the Society – again – that she deserved her place here.  She had shown – to the beaten bitch groveling at her feet, to the watching members and patrons of the Society and to herself – just what it meant to stand in this room.  She wiggled her toes against the loser’s lips and took a deep, satisfied breath, her bare chest swelling impressively, giving the audience a nice mental image of their winning fighter.

“All right, all right, that’s enough,” she teased.  “Don’t make a meal of it.”  She pulled her foot back and Danielle lay motionless once more.  Emilia bent over again and thrust a hand in her hair, jerking her head up, dragging a moan of pain and shame from her fallen foe.  “Up on your knees, slut!”  She hauled harder on Danielle’s hair, and the American rose, groaning through her tight clenched teeth.

Emilia pointed across the arena.  “You don’t know the drill, of course, but you’re not leaving here with that bikini…that’s mine now, just like your sorry arse!  Now go fetch it, on your knees!”  She hurled Danielle forward onto all fours.

Danielle threw her hands out to brace herself but her still-numbed arms could not hold her, and she slammed down on her chest with another desolate groan.  Several people laughed.  Slowly, painfully she drew her arms beneath her and pushed herself up, head hanging low, hair sweeping the rug.

“GO ON!” urged Emilia, and Danielle began crawling slowly across the arena, her breasts swinging beneath her with each laborious step.  She approached the place where her bikini bottoms lay crumpled, her arms trembling with the effort of holding herself up.  She stopped for a moment, obviously gathering her strength, but Emilia wasn’t going to show her any mercy.  Let her know what losing meant, here in this room.  “PICK IT UP!” she instructed her sternly.  Danielle stretched out her hand.  “NOT LIKE THAT!”  The hand hesitated.  “IN YOUR TEETH!”

Danielle paused for a moment and Emilia could see her shoulders shake.  Then she bent her head until her face touched the floor, and took the bedraggled bikini bottoms in her teeth like a dog.  “Don’t forget the top!” Emilia reminded her.  “Fetch it like a good puppy and bring it here to me!”  Danielle did so, crossing the intervening distance with painful slowness, until she picked up the discarded top and brought it, dangling from her mouth, back to Emilia.

“Good girl.”  Emilia pointed to her feet.  “Drop it here.”  Danielle did so, remaining bent over, her face hidden, her naked body shivering even in the warmth of the room.  Emilia made her wait, knowing the uncertainty would be eating at her – the wondering, the awful anticipation of yet more humiliation.

At last she leaned over and pulled Danielle upright on her knees, stepping to her right so she stood at the other woman’s shoulder, a hand entwined in her matted hair.  “Look at you!”  She pointed to the mirrored wall of the room.  Several people in the audience stepped aside, so she could clearly see both herself and Danielle reflected in the glass  Both their bare bodies were bruised and battered, covered in sweat, their makeup ruined.  Eyeliner ran down their cheeks, their lipstick was smeared garishly across their faces.  Their hair hung limp, plastered to their heads, shoulders and their bare, panting chests.  The vicious marks of each other’s claws lined their breasts and bellies.

Both of them were exhausted.  Emilia knew that her victory was due as much to good fortune as it was to her own skill and dogged tenacity.  Another few minutes – another few seconds – and the outcome might have been different.  This bitch had fought like a true warrior.  The only difference between them, was that she was the one sobbing on her knees, beaten and degraded, while Emilia stood proud and victorious.  That small difference was all that counted.

She looked into Danielle’s eyes through the mirror.  She saw the defeat there, and the anguish at the knowledge that her best had not been good enough.  “Now you know what they mean when they say ‘best of the best’, don’t you, slut?”  

Danielle stayed silent, and Emilia wrenched hard on her ear, making her yelp.  “SAY IT!”

“Yes…yes!  I…I know what they mean,” she mumbled.

“You brought your best, but you weren’t good enough to beat me!  SAY IT!”

Danielle let out a sob of shame.  “I…I wasn’t good enough.”  Tears streamed down her face.  

“Too right you weren’t!”  Emilia jerked her backward.  Danielle cried out in pain, then groaned as she fell backward in a heap on the rug.  “Not for me!  Not for this room!”  She pointed toward the exit.  “Now go on, GET OUT!  On your knees!”

Slowly, painfully, Danielle clambered up onto all fours again, and began a slow, crawling exit from the arena.  Her bare buttocks undulating at each step, her dangling breasts slapping against her arms.  Her body shook with sobs.  Twice she stopped, trembling, before she reached the edge of the arena.

As the crowd parted around her, allowing her passage between them on her knees, the slow hand clap began – the Society’s traditional accompaniment to the shameful exodus of a beaten fighter.  The crowd closed around her again, cutting her off from view as Emilia stood in the middle of the rug, trying to ignore the aches and pains, the muscular twinges, the pounding headache.  Only as Danielle finally made her exit and the crowd turned back to her, erupting into wild applause, did she tilt her head back, close her eyes and allow the fatigue to wash over her.

She had won.

The End

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