Choked to Death

by Damon

Tara slammed Kirsten back first into the suite wall, her hands still locked about the Colorado battler's throat and squeezing hard. Kirsten groaned and gasped as she clawed at Tara's face with one hand while clutching one of Tara's wrists with the other, trying to break free, but still the five-foot-six East Coast beauty kept choking her just-as-tall foe, determined to finish Kirsten off and claim the prize.

Kirsten began to cough hoarsely as the breath was violently squeezed from her voluptuous, athletic body, Tara's soft hands like a steel vise about her foe's ravaged throat. Kirsten pulled wildly at Tara's wrists with both hands now, desperate to end this airless ordeal before the other brunette ended her life once and for all. She wondered how it had ever gotten to this point in the first place …

Tara and Kirsten were two beautiful young brunettes who loved to fight, and who loved to choke and strangle. Both of them fought as often as possible, each about 5-6 and 125 pounds, mid-20s, with tight, athletic bodies, including strong legs and ample breasts; and both had already claimed the life of an opponent in their respective catfighting careers.

Tara had fought a big-busted black secretary after hours at the New Jersey pharmaceutical firm where they both worked. After battering the ebony beauty with both feet and fists, Tara had bent Monica back over her desk, wrapped her strong hands about her foe's dark neck, and squeezed with all her might until she choked the life from her, Monica gasping and gurgling wide-eyed as she expired. Since that time Tara had fought many more women, often choking them out cold with a cruel two-handed grip.

Kirsten had confronted a figure skater named Larissa in college up in Alaska, where Kirsten had gone on a volleyball scholarship. Their nude, no-holds-barred bout in the women's locker room late one night ended only when Kirsten squeezed her hands about a battered Larissa's throat, harder and harder, mercilessly until there was no need to squeeze anymore, the skater ultimately crumpling lifeless to the rubber floor. Kirsten had then gone back to Colorado to coach volleyball, although she still fought on a regular basis to keep her skills sharp, more often than not strangling her foes senseless.

Being from opposite sides of the country, Tara and Kirsten would probably never have encountered one another if Kirsten hadn't come to New York City one weekend to visit a friend and then wrestled at the Catfight Club, a place frequented by Tara herself to hone her own combat prowess. They didn't fight each other that particular night, but the crowd was impressed by their skill and savagery, both women choking their respective opponents out cold with their bare hands in topless tussles. And word quickly got around the club that Tara vs. Kirsten would make a fantastic match - a great chokeout contest matching two savage she-cats.

That's what named a rich New York heiress in her 40s named Dana Winters thought, anyway. Her particular fetish was watching young women catfight and choke each other in bouts her underlings frequently set up, fights which took place in one of her finest suites at the Park Avenue hotel her family had owned and operated for decades. Word quickly got back to her via cell phone about Tara and Kirsten, and Winters was determined to have them square off against one another, the sooner the better. And she wasn't the kind of woman who took no for an answer.

Her contact at the Catfight Club that night was a woman in her 30s named Miss Davis, a statuesque, well-built blonde standing about 5-10, who had been in Winter's employ for years. She arranged to talk to both Tara and Kirsten separately and ask them if they would like to compete in a private nude match, with $50,000 going to the winner. Needless to say, both battlers went wide-eyed at the figure.

"How much again?" queried Kirsten, wondering if she had taken one too many blows to the head in her battle with a small but determined redhead, who took a while to finally put down.

"Fifty thousand dollars, plus all expenses," smiled Miss Davis, a real looker herself. "All you have to do is show up and fight - and win, of course."

"Holy ..." murmured the volleyballer, who was supposed to be on a flight back to Colorado the next day, her Eastern visit at an end; but if she had fifty grand - and she determined she would - then who cared about a missed flight?

"I'm in."

"Very good, dear," smiled Miss Davis again.

It went much the same with Tara.

"Fifty grand to beat the shit out of some bitch?" asked the curly-haired catfighter, the brunette's body slick with sweat after a grueling bout with a tough little blonde who didn't know when to quit.

"That's pretty much the story, dear," replied Miss Davis.

"One-shot deal?"

"Yes, just the one fight."

"What's the catch?"

"Why, you have to emerge victorious, of course," smiled Miss Davis.

Now it was Tara's turn to smile.

"No problem."

Neither of them made anything close to fifty grand in their everyday jobs - and each of them agreed to fight the next night. They would be chauffeured to the hotel the next afternoon, have their every need looked after, and then would fight to the finish.

Tara and Kirsten had watched each other fight that night, and though they weren't scheduled to go at it, both wondered how she would fare against the other in chokehold combat. Neither of them, however, had been told who her fifty thousand dollar opponent would be the next evening, just that they were about the same size and that it should be a fair fight.

Neither were they told about the particular twist that was a major part of Dana Winters' arranged female combats. But they would both find out soon enough ...

^----------

The night melted away and the new day arrived, whereupon both Kirsten and Tara were shuttled separately to the Winters Garden on Park Avenue. It was in a suite on the 30th floor that the two brunettes would truly meet for the first time, but for now they were still kept apart and locked in separate rooms, like two animals waiting to be uncaged. Both were fed and allowed to sleep for awhile, but by the early afternoon they were both wide-awake and beginning to grow restless. Miss Davis did what she could to keep them calm, but they more they sat around and waited, the more agitated the two women became.

"What's going on?" demanded Tara. "When the hell do I get to see who I'm fighting?"

"Patience, dear," smiled Miss Davis nervously before heading off to try and keep Kirsten calm two locked rooms away, Tara seething behind her as the door closed.

"How much longer is this going to take?" queried Kirsten, as Miss Davis came through the door and shut it, more than a touch of annoyance in the brunette's voice. "I'm going stir crazy in here!"

Miss Davis knew she was running out of time - she probably already had. It was a wonder that neither of them had jumped her yet, but then they wouldn't get paid. Still, it was time to call Miss Winters ...

The phone rang in Dana Winters' private suite on the top floor of the hotel.

"Yes, what is it?" she intoned, knowing full well it would be Miss Davis on the other end of the line.

"Miss Winters, our girls are growing restless. I think they're as ready to go as they'll ever be. Can you come down here?"

"I'm on my way," she smiled. She got up from the bed where she had been reposing, watching some mindless television drivel, before slipping into her high-heeled shoes and heading for the elevator. When she arrived on the 30th floor, Miss Davis greeted her.

"How are our two little hellcats holding up?"

"They're chomping at the bit," replied Miss Davis as they walked towards the suite. "They still haven't seen each other."

"Well, time to rectify that little matter."

Miss Winters entered Suite 3010 and had Miss Davis unlock the doors of the adjoining rooms. It was then that Tara and Kirsten, both barefoot and dressed in bikinis, entered the main suite, both more than a little ticked off at being kept in the dark for so long.

The two young women came into a large, wide room, plush with white carpeting that extended in all directions. They saw maple furniture lining the far walls, as well as two large, soft white couches, plus a mini-bar and an entertainment center, both locked up tight. A large, round, white-covered bed was set up near the center of the room, in front of the wall behind the bathroom, down from the large entrance area. All the walls were white, and trimmed with ornate patterns and designs of gold.

No expense had seemingly been spared. This room must have cost a thousand dollars a night, they thought. They also saw Miss Davis, adorned in her red dress trimmed with black felt, wearing black high heels.

Lastly, they saw a tall, striking redhead in her 40s, dressed in expensive designer clothing, especially a silk white blouse covered by a powder blue jacket trimmed with black. Her wrists and fingers were resplendent with gold jewelry and precious stones. Her hair was dark red with some small streaks of gray, and her face was pretty, if slightly weathered; but her most outstanding features - literally - were a pair of big, firm breasts that jutted out from her chest like melons under her blouse. Tapering outwards from beneath her just-above-the-knee black skirt were a pair of long legs that seemingly went on forever,

before ending in dark blue, three-inch pumps. This was Miss Winters.

"Greetings, my dears. I am Miss Winters, your hostess," she said, her air one of total confidence. She was even more stunning than Miss Davis, they had to admit, which was no mean feat in itself. The blonde concierge was also a very lovely woman possessed of an outstanding shape, with a great face, long tapering legs, and more-than-ample breasts. But the redhead was simply incredible.

It was then that the two combatants also saw each other -really saw each other - for the first time, after overcoming the spectacle of the suite. At first both were taken slightly aback, both women having wondered last night what it would have been like to take each other on at the club, but never actually meeting. Both knew the other would be a savage, strong opponent, but they never dreamed that to earn $50,000 they would have to go through each other. Their greed and ego outweighed any considerations of personal safety, though, and each felt she not only could win, but would do whatever was necessary to earn fifty grand.

"You're that chick from last night," grinned Tara, arms folded across her purple-bikinied breasts. "You're pretty good."

"You're not so bad yourself," leered Kirsten, resplendent in a two-piece light blue bikini, her hands on her hips. The dance had begun.

"Now girls, no need to be catty," smiled Miss Winters as she held up her hands, mockingly keeping the two combatants apart. "You'll get down to business soon enough.

"And now, for the rules."

They both turned towards the older woman, who stood slightly in-between them, although Tara and Kirsten were still a good five to six feet apart. Their cotton bikinis clung tightly to their tanned forms, covering just enough of their voluptuous white flesh as to drive any male on-lookers crazy at any other time.

"The rules are - well, there really are none," preened Miss Winters. "Do whatever you think is necessary to win. Use whatever holds you wish, although my personal wish is that you use chokeholds, as often as possible. That's all there is to say."

The faces of the two fighters lit up, and they turned back to glare at each other menacingly, eager to get it on.

"Except .." said Miss Winters, raising a pointed finger as they both looked back to her, mystified.

"You fight until one of you is finished," she announced in a serious, stentorian tone, "and I mean finished." She paused for emphasis on her final syllables. "No knockouts, no submissions, no mercy. You fight until one of you has expired."

Their hearts sank at that last word, and their faces grew visibly sullen.

"You mean ..." stammered Kirsten, unable to finish.

"You got it, deary," leered Miss Winters, arms now folded across her huge breasts, white teeth sparkling behind her red lips. "To the death. Winner gets paid $50,000," she reached into her jacket pocket and held up a check with that particular amount written on it, "and never reveals what happened here today, to anyone. Ever."

The silence was eerie. It lasted for a few moments.

"This is crazy," offered Tara as she got over the initial shock of Miss Winters' proclamation. "You want us to kill each other?"

"Oh no, my sweet," beamed Miss Winters once more. "Only one of you has to die. The other one gets to be quite a wealthy young lady. Unless both of you want out, that is."

They stood there quietly again, each weighing the possible consequences. Both women had taken a life with her bare hands before, but that was by finishing off a battered, less-experienced opponent. Now each woman would be facing a foe who was fresh, who was her own size and her probable strength, and who was just as savage as she herself was in combat. It was a fifty-fifty proposition at best, with no guarantee of victory - or survival.

"It's up to you," said Miss Winters matter-of-factly, placing one foot forward and showcasing her long, beautiful leg. "But make up your minds soon - I'm a very busy woman, and I haven't got all day to wait. Fight, or get out."

She then stepped back towards the bed where Miss Davis stood, eliminating the only obstacle between Tara and Kirsten.

The two bikinied babes turned once more to face each other, still incredulous at the proposition that had been made to them, and still somewhat angry that they had been made so long to wait to get to this point.

They stared deep into each other's dark eyes, as if to ask "Do you really want to do this?" They had no quarrel with each other ...

But then their instincts took over, fueled by their egos, each girl not only determined to claim Winters' check, but also to be crowned queen over the other's lifeless form.

Their lips curled first into sneers and then into snarls, their teeth clenched together, and their eyes were ablaze as they crouched down slightly, bare feet spread wide and bare hands spread wider as they prepared to come to grips.

Behind them, safely out of harm's way, Winters and Davis both smiled.

They suddenly, as if by some unseen cue, both Kirsten and Tara screamed and lunged at each other, bare hands snaking out to latch onto vulnerable throats and squeeze mercilessly ...

^----------

Bare feet shuffled and scrabbled across the carpeted floor as Tara and Kirsten shifted and struggled about, hands tightening about each other's throats as they tried to choke each other to death. Grunts and gasps, coughs and curses filled the air between them as they squeezed with all their strength, thumbs stabbing deep into windpipes as they both endured agony like never before, but each still refused to relinquish her steely grip about the other's neck.

Suddenly Tara pushed in forward and managed to ram a knee up hard into Kirsten's crotch, stunning the curly-haired Colorado brunette for an instant. Tara took full advantage of her attack, pushing Kirsten back towards the bed and beginning to push her enemy down onto the soft surface where Tara would have all the leverage, and could then strangle her opponent at her leisure. But as thoughts of $50,000 floated through her head, the imaginary bills were scattered by the sudden, sharp sensation of pain in her face, pain provided by a bony fist smashing into her cheekbone, first one and then the other as Kirsten swung wildly in trying to get loose.

Tara yelped at the blows and tore away from Kirsten, who pulled out of Tara's chokehold to rub her raw throat and try to coax air back into her heaving chest. They both backed off to catch their breath and eye each other warily, both women wondering how next to attack the other. To the side, Miss Winters and Miss Davis both smiled - this was going to be a good one, they thought.

The respite lasted only a minute or so before both women, skin starting to become slick with sweat, rushed at each other and began tearing away at each other's bikini tops with their bare hands. They stretched and shredded the thin cotton material with their greedy, clawing fingers until their bare breasts came bouncing free and they were both topless. Not missing a beat, they both latched onto each other's mamaries and began squeezing as hard as they could, twisting and turning, pulling and pinching as they assaulted each other's chests with a fury.

Both women threw back their heads and howled at the pain they were inflicting upon one another , but neither showed any signs of submitting anytime soon. Fingers sank deep into flesh and squeezed, fingertips found fleshy nipples and pinched them like vises, each woman determined to destroy the other. Their screams were unearthly; but Miss Winters had been holding catfights here for quite a while now, and she knew soundproofing the suite had been worth the extra expense. The mature redhead grinned sinisterly as she watched her young charges punish each other, all thoughts of personal safety

subjugated by the will to destroy.

"They're going to kill each other ..." murmured Miss Davis, looking on incredulously.

"Less expensive for us then, dear," smiled Miss Winters, never taking her eyes off the lurid combat in front of her.

Kirsten was getting the worse of the breast-squeezing affair, as Tara pulled mercilessly at the volleyball player's nipples, stretching them forward like taffy. Now the pain was becoming unbearable; and despite squeezing Tara's breasts as viciously as she could, Kirsten could not bring her enemy to the same level of agony that she herself was enduring. Desperate, she released her foe's hanging globes to reach upwards and wrap her hands about Tara's throat again, shaking her foe back and forth as she poured on the pressure and began to squeeze savagely. Tara gasped at this new agony, and tried prying

Kirsten's hands loose from her neck; but Kirsten was hanging on maniacally, teeth clenched and eyes ablaze as she choked the life from her rival, hands interlocking behind Tara's neck and tightening the hold.

"Guuuhhh ... ullkkk ..." was all Tara could mouth as the breath was violently squeezed from her body.

"Choke, you fucking bitch!" snarled Kirsten through gritted teeth, hands squeezing harder. She began to pull Tara downwards, trying to drag her down to the floor to her death ...

Suddenly Kirsten was screaming again, her chokehold dissolved, her hands peeling off her victim's throat and clawing frantically at her foe's wrists as Tara began to press her thumbs into Kirsten's eyes, trying to gouge them out. Now it was Kirsten's turn to slam a knee up hard into her foe's crotch, stunning Tara just long enough for Kirsten to pull those clawing hands away before they did irreparable damage. But just as Kirsten went to renew her chokehold and finish the fight, her head was snapped back violently as Tara swung upwards and caught her enemy flush on the chin with an uppercut. Kirsten's legs went

wobbly as she tried to shake off the impact of the blow, but just as her head was beginning to clear, she felt two long arms wrapping tight about her waist and squeezing as Tara caught her in a bearhug.

Kirsten's cries again filled the suite as a sharp pain collected in her spine and refused to depart, Tara's balled-up fists pressing hard into Kirsten's lower back while her arms constricted the Colorado cutie's waist more and more with each passing second. Kirsten clawed at the Eastern looker's shoulders, desperate to break free before being crushed, but Tara held her foe fast in her backbreaking hold, biceps flexing and rippling with effort.

"Feeling a little out of breath, bitch?" chided Tara as he watched her opponent struggle in her grasp, the Eastern brunette beginning to lift Kirsten up onto her toes in her spine-snapping assault. But that confident grin quickly faded from Tara's lovely face as Kirsten slammed both fists into either side of Tara's cheekbones, drawing a loud cry from the agonized girl and breaking her grip in the process. Both women then tumbled to the soft floor to assuage their wounds, Tara covering and rubbing her pretty face with both hands, Kirsten massaging her sore lower back with both hands.

Kirsten was on her knees, rubbing her hands over her spine, trying to knead the pain away, when suddenly she felt herself being grabbed by the shoulders from behind and twisted about. Before she could resist, she felt a soft strand coiling about her neck and pulling tight before a fist crashed hard into her open mouth, knuckles slamming against her teeth and lips and drawing blood. Kirsten's head began to swim about the room as she looked up through pained eyes to see Tara, face still red with the impact of Kirsten's earlier blows, grinning wickedly as she slammed another fist into Kirsten's face.

And another. And another.

Kirsten tried to curse at Tara, or even cry out, but found all she could do was gasp. She felt about her neck and found the remnants of a bikini top, fashioned into a loop and now pulled tight about her neck by Tara's left hand, the thin material cutting off Kirsten's air just as Tara punished her rival with blows from the other hand.

Kirsten staggered as she was assaulted on both ends, trying to cover up with her hands as Tara rained punishing blows down upon her and tightened the loop as the same time, leaving Kirsten to hazily wonder whether she would be choked to death or beaten to death first ...

^----------

Tara began driving Kirsten to her knees as she pounded away at the Colorado cutie with her right hand, her left tightening the bikini top about Kirsten's neck and choking her. Kirsten coughed hoarsely even as she tried to ward off her enemy's punishing blows, but she was fighting a battle on two fronts and losing both. Her skull and throat racked with pain, Kirsten quickly devised a desperate plan for freedom that she hoped would work. That HAD to work.

Dropping onto her knees in front of Tara, Kirsten played along for the next few moments, reeling from Tara's twin attacks as before, before finally marshalling her efforts for her counterattack. Her right side trembling as she summoned all the strength she could spare, Kirsten leaned back and then fired her right fist straight into Tara's bikinied crotch.

Tara's shriek reverberated about the suite, even causing Miss Winters and Miss Davis to jump slightly, so unexpected was the sound. Tara immediately loosened her grip on the bikini top about Kirsten's neck, and fell down and onto the carpet, hands clutching her wounded womanhood.

"You cunt," she whimpered. "You fucking cunt …"

"No, I think it's YOUR fucking cunt, you bitch," croaked Kirsten as she rubbed her wounded throat, red marks evident on her neck where the bikini top had sawed into her white skin. The battle was halted for the next few minutes as each woman assuaged her injuries, but it was Tara who was the more badly hurt, and it was Kirsten who regained her feet first. Striding two or three steps over to where Tara had fallen, Kirsten then bent down and grabbed onto Tara's bikini briefs before dragging them down the Eastern brunette's long legs and finally over her bare feet, leaving Tara totally naked. Kirsten then stepped up and out of her own briefs, totally exposing herself as well, and flung both briefs over against the far wall.

"And now we're even for this fight," growled Kirsten, as she advanced on Tara again, intent upon on ending things. Seconds later and Kirsten was crying out in pain as well, as Tara lashed out with one leg and kicked Kirsten square on the left kneecap with her heel. Kirsten howled as she went down, hands clutching her wounded knee as she collapsed to the carpet. Both women lay there, both in agony, both unable to move or continue the struggle.

Than a harsh female voice rang out over the room.

"Get up, you little bitches!"

It was Dana Winters, the sponsor of the match, who had promised $50,000 to the woman who killed her female opponent in no holds barred combat.

"Get up and finish this fight! Get up or so help me I'll throw you both out right now!" Her bloodlust was startling, but not totally unexpected. She had wanted to see a fight to the death, not two sobbing twentysomethings unable to go on. She had sponsored these female death matches for quite a while now, and would be damned if she would be cheated of her spectacle, not with so much of her own money on the line.

"Dana ..." whispered Miss Davis, the stunning blonde who had set up the match.

'Shut up, Rachel!" barked Miss Winters, turning to face her valet. "Just shut up!"

Then the wealthy redhead turned back on the two combatants.

"Get up and Finnish this, right now, or the bet's off!"

Tara and Kirsten both stared incredulously at the tall, imposing redhead, not believing what they were hearing. Was she nuts? Would Winters try to kill them both herself if she didn't get what she wanted?

Then they thought of $50,000, and how much punishment they had each absorbed from the other so far, and their competitive fires were restoked. Then turned and glared at each other once more, and rose to their feet to renew their struggle for supremacy - and life.

"That's it!" cackled Miss Winters, clasping her hands. 'That's it! Now fight! Fight!"

As best they could in their battered conditions, they rushed at one another, but again it was Tara gaining the the upper hand. Just as they came together she staggered Kirsten with a roundhouse right to the face, then another, then another, until she lashed out with right roundhouse kick to the cheek that sent Kirsten tumbling across the suite and crashing headfirst into the far wall. The volleyball player slumped to the ground, but began to rise as she saw Tara coming at her. She turned to grapple with her foe, but only caught a knee a in the cunt for her efforts, Tara's hands secured about Kirsten's shoulders and holding her in place. Another knee to the crotch, and then another, and then Kirsten was moaning low and long and loud in unbelievable agony.

Her agony was just beginning. Kirsten then felt hands gripping her breasts from underneath, squeezing them and holding them in place, before feeling a stinging, pinching sensation in her left tit. She looked down in horror to see Tara biting down hard on that soft fleshy mound, the brunette nearly engulfing it in her eager mouth.

The volleyballer wailed and pulled at the brunette's hair, but she was too battered from the blows to her head and face to offer much resistance. She suffered a while longer as Tara's white teeth sank deeper into her breast, hands squeezing the soft flesh mercilessly all the while, until she sensed herself being released and her face being plunged downwards into Tara's heaving bust. The Colorado girl smothered in her foe's firm breasts, Tara's soft hands holding Kirsten's face in place as she denied her enemy of oxygen, and Kirsten thought this was truly the end as she felt herself passing out …

But then she could breathe again, as Tara released her breast-smother, only to slam Kirsten's head back hard against the wall, prompting more moaning from the bruised and battered victim. Her moans were soon stifled as Tara shifted her grip to seize Kirsten by the throat with both hands and began choking her again, even more savagely than before, the radiologist determined to watch Kirsten's life run out between her fingers.

"Unnnhhh … guuhhh … ulllkkk …" was all Kirsten could mouth at her new agony, her hands wrapped tightly about Tara's wrist and trying to pull those terrible hands loose.

"Choke, you fucking cunt!" snarled Tara, tightening her hold with each passing second. "Choke to death!"

Tara slammed Kirsten back first into the wall again, her hands still locked about the Colorado battler's throat and squeezing hard. Kirsten coughed as she clawed at Tara's face with one hand while clutching one of Tara's wrists with the other, trying to break free, but still the five-foot-six East Coast beauty kept choking her just-as-tall foe, determined to finish the Western woman off and claim the contest prize.

Kirsten soon began to gasp hoarsely as the breath was violently squeezed from her body, Tara's soft hands like a steel vise about her foe's ravaged throat. Kirsten pulled wildly at Tara's wrists with both hands now, desperate to end this airless ordeal before the other brunette ended her life, which by the looks of things could be any minute now. Any minute at all …

^----------

Kirsten continued to suffer in Tara's two-handed grip, the Eastern brunette's hands still fastened about her Western rival's throat, squeezing mercilessly and choking her to death. Kirsten strained to pull Tara's hands loose, but her foe's grip was simply too strong, too relentless. Faced with the end of her life, Kirsten summoned all her flagging strength to once more fight back, fists pummeling away like pistons on Tara's face, the volleyballer swinging wildly in a desperate attempt to escape from the radiologist.

Tara tried to hold on, trying to choke Kirsten lifeless even as she was battered, but her fifty thousand dollar payday was put on hold as Kirsten's fist crashed off Tara's chin and sent the other brunette sprawling. Kirsten dropped to her knees, hacking and coughing, saliva dripping from her lips as a souvenir of her ordeal, while Tara was seated on her shapely ass, shaking her head and trying to clear the cobwebs from her enemy's blow.

They recovered for long moments, both eager to recover first and mount an attack. Miss Winters and Miss Davis said nothing, wanting the two combatants to regain their strength and fight to the finish, and they looked on eagerly, anticipating the moment when the struggle for life/death would renew.

Kirsten stumbled to her bare feet, but Tara did likewise; and it was the latter woman who gained the upper hand by lashing out with a kick that stunned her foe. Just as Kirsten looked up, Tara's heel crashed off her chin and sent the volleyballer sprawling back onto the couch near the window. Kirsten just lay there, her head swimming as she fought to stay conscious with Tara bearing down on her. She tried to raise her hands to defend herself, but it was too late. Tara was upon her almost immediately, straddling Kirsten on the couch while raining down rights and lefts into the Western brunette's face, the sounds of bone upon bone and flesh upon flesh sickening. Kirsten slumped against the sofa, the softness of the material doing little to ease her agony, until Tara decided enough was enough.

Propping Kirsten up against the couch so that her head hung over the top edge, Tara smiled wickedly and then drew a deep breath before plunging down with both hands and squeezing them hard about Kirsten's neck in a final death grip. The volleyball player emitted a strangled cry as she felt the life draining from her, and spittle began to run from the corners of her mouth as Tara squeezed with all her remaining strength in a killing grip, thumbs pressing down savagely. She shook Kirsten back and forth as she throttled her, both women's breasts squashing together as Tara pressed up against her victim,

determined to finish the fight once and for all.

Kirsten slumped back on the couch, knowing full well that this was her finish. She felt simply didn't have the strength left to mount any kind of a counterattack or an escape attempt, and she could feel the life draining from her battered body as Tara's fingers wound tighter and tighter about her throat.

"Ulllkkk …" was all the dying brunette could mutter.

"That's it, you fucking slut! I sure as hell can choke fifty grand out of you!" cursed Tara, heady with impending victory. "Let's hear that death rattle in your fucking throat! Die, you bitch! Die! Die!!!"

Kirsten wailed between coughs, her life flashing before her as its end neared, her accomplishments and joys overshadowed by the regrets. Regrets of never having married, of never having children ... She slumped once more and spread her arms to the sides as she waited for the end …

… and found salvation, however temporary, in a slender white cord that brushed against her falling hand. The cord for the window blinds, located just behind the couch and curtains, weighted down at the bottom, thin but strong. To weak to even smile at her new found fortune, Kirsten nevertheless summoned whatever spirit she could find and began to pull the cord up, an idea forming in her battered mind even as Tara poured on the pressure.

So intent was Tara upon choking Kirsten to death with her bare hands that she didn't notice what her opponent was up to. She didn't see the other brunette's left arm moving slowly but steadily, didn't see the cord coming up and finally looping over her neck, didn't feel the harsh bite of nylon - until it was far, far too late.

Before she realized that the hunter had become the hunted, Tara felt the cord rub across her face and then wrap once, twice, three times about her slender neck, Kirsten using the weighted end for leverage before pulling the cord tight and choking the life from her killer. The Easterner gagged as Kirsten now held onto the weight with both hands and pulled it as hard to the right as she possibly could, even as Tara's hands wrapped tighter about her throat.

"No!" gagged Tara in shock and surprise, the images of fifty grand flashing before her - and disappearing. "No ... noooo ... aullkkk ... " Her life began to pass before her now, too, the cord biting fiercely into her tanned skin and cutting off both her breath and blood.

"If I go," rasped Kirsten, her voice ragged and harsh, "you go, too ..." She smiled an eerie, dying grin, knowing her journey beyond wouldn't be made alone.

Neither woman would relent now, still choking each other to death as hard as they could, Tara with hands, Kirsten with cords, their gasps and coughs filling the room as Miss Winters and Miss Davis looked on with astonishment at the savage spectacle before them. In a last-ditch effort to overpower each other, Tara squeezed both hands as hard as she could about Kirsten's neck, just as Kirsten pulled the cord as tight as she could about Tara's neck. Spittle foamed from both their mouths, their tanned muscles tensed with supreme effort, their death cries issued forth from both their throats in unison ... and then they were still, having completely strangled the life from one another.

The fight was over, and neither woman had won. The only one who had was Dana Winters, who wouldn't have to pay anyone now. She seemed almost gleeful at the dual demise as she went over to check on the two now-lifeless young women, slumped together in death. Then came a gasp from behind her.

"Wow …" was all Miss Davis could breathe.

Miss Winters turned and smiled. "All in all, Rachel, I'd say this was one of our best ever."

"Just the sheer hatred between them ..." gasped Miss Davis again. "My god, Dana, they killed each other rather than lose!"

"And saved me fifty thousand dollars in doing so," said Miss Winters matter-of- factly, her inspection of the bodies now over. "I guess I should thank them. And now …" she said, turning to Miss Davis.

"Yes," replied the stunning blonde to the phenomenal redhead. "I know." And they both began to remove their expensive clothing ...

Minutes later they faced each on the bed on their knees, both breathtaking women now totally nude with hands upraised before attacking one another and beginning their own catfight, which was their custom after watching one of Dana's pre-arranged death matches. The stronger and more ruthless of the two combatants, Miss Winters wrestled Miss Davis down onto the edge of the bed, where upon she straddled the blonde's large chest before wrapping both her hands about Miss Davis' neck and choking her. Miss Davis coughed as she gripped Miss Winter's wrists and tried to pry herself loose, Miss Winters squeezing

with all her strength, her eyes closed and her head thrown back in the sweet ecstasy of domination.

To their side lay Kirsten and Tara, still slumped naked against one another on the couch with Tara on top. Her hands were still about Kirsten's neck, as the cord was still about Tara's neck. Grim and lasting reminders of a proposition that began with so much promise, but with neither beautiful participant able to collect in the end.

Above them a single recessed bulb burned, casting a silent, yellow pall on the two lifeless nudes …

END