"THE INTERVIEW"

by Traci

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The journalist smiled as the blonde woman in the short red silk robe opened the door.

"Come in...I guess you're Pete."

"Yes, I am. Nice to meet you, umm..Queen Cobra ..obviously that's not your real name, so I'll call you....?"

"You'll call me Queen," she said, motioning for him to sit in a loveseat. She walked to the sofa opposite him, sat down, and drew her legs up. "Remember the rules of this interview, Pete. You were never here. What you will write about will not contain any names, or real places, not even the name of this town. That was the deal."

"Of course," he chuckled nervously. "I'm sorry. Queen it is."  He took out his pad and pen and jotted down some quick notes. "Thank you for making the time, really."

"Not a problem. I just don't want our society to get broken up because of being exposed to the wrong people, ok?"

"I don't want that either. I just want the story for the magazine, and if I did anything to screw it up, it would hurt me too."

She nodded, and leaned back, her long blonde hair cascading down her front, curling in as if to point to her cleavage.  She was referring to the Female Fight Society, an unofficial, very underground association of voluntary women, age 19-35, who met once a month to catfight at a very secret location, where men--and a few women--came and paid big money to watch. The 23-year old Queen Cobra was currently the hottest fighter in the society, having advanced the ranks quickly with some decisive wins over some of the society's best fighters. She had lost her first match over a year ago, then won three in a row, lost once more, and since had ticked off seven consecutive victories to stand at ten wins and two losses. The rules were simple: fifteen minutes in the ring--no "rounds". The fighters wore bikinis or another form of skimpy swimsuit. A referee, who was to stop the fight only if blood flow became a serious obstacle and threat to a fighter's life. That was it. You won by making your opponent submit, or by decision after the fifteen minutes was up. Only two fighters had gone fifteen minutes with Cobra, and one of them had beaten her. She was quick, savage, and unforgiving. The crowd loved it when a fight didn't go the 15 minute limit, because that brought in the "excess time" rule. Whatever time was leftover was awarded to the winner to do what she pleased with the loser, and there were no limitations. It wasn't uncommon to see a defeated fighter strung up on the ropes and bitch-slapped, then made to crawl around the ring with a leash on, or to see a victress strip the beaten girl of her panties and fuck her dizzy with a strap-on. The winner, short of causing serious injury, could do what she pleased with the loser for the time remaining.

The purse, as well as the pleasures, for the winner of these fights was substantial--50% of the take. The loser got 20% and the remaining 30% paid for the private warehouse, underground parking and security.  Curiousity seekers and any others without an authorization code weren't let in. The place was always packed, which meant a gross take of about $8,000. A winning fighter would rake in about $4,000 for her victory, and an extra one hundred dollars for every minute of "excess time" left in the fight. A girl who could make her opponent suffer enough to give up in three minutes could walk out of the warehouse with over $5,000 in her purse. Domination paid off handsomely.

"Would you like something to drink? Coffee, beer, anything?" She asked politely.

"Actually a cup of black coffee would be great, thanks," Pete said, rising.

"Sit and relax. I'll take care of it," she said. Then the blonde fighting champion clapped her hands twice loudly.

To Pete's surprise, a shapely young girl with jet black hair came quickly into the room. She stood there in a pair of white terrycloth shorts and a matching top. She was alarmingly pretty, though she didn't smile, and didn't look a day over twenty.

"Sasha, get this gentleman a cup of black coffee," Cobra said.

"Yes, Ma'am," the girl replied quietly, and hurried into the kitchen.

Pete raised an eyebrow. He wasn't privy to what wages these girls made, but figured that to hire servants and cleaning people one has to be doing pretty well.

"Winning big has it's advantages, I see," he said, smiling. "Enough to afford domestic help, huh? Not bad."

Cobra laughed. "I didn't hire her," she said, a glint in her eyes.

Pete smiled in confusion. "No..?"

The striking blonde catfighter shook her head. "No. I won her. In a fight."

Pete nearly stopped breathing. "You what?"

"I won her. By beating her. She is my slave for three months."

Just then, the girl came walking back in with a steaming cup of coffee. She set it down on a small table by the loveseat where Pete sat. Pete looked at her up and down.

"Slave?? Oh c'mon, this IS a joke, I'm sure."

Cobra wasn't smiling. She stared right at Pete and her gaze never wavered. "Sasha," she said calmly, "take off all your clothes."

"Yes, Ma'am," the girl said, closing her eyes and swallowing nervously. Pete watched in amazement as the pretty brunette pulled off her top exposing a pair of smallish but lovely, pert breasts. Then, she slid out of her shorts and panties and stood there, naked, head down, blushing heavily.

Pete's mouth was open silently when Cobra, without a word, pointed to the floor at her feet and clicked her fingers. Sasha instantly walked to Cobra and went to her knees in front of her.

"Do you believe me now, Mr. Journalist?" Cobra said.

Pete closed his mouth and swallowed. "How...what....?"

"Sasha here challenged me one day, when she was new to the society. She had won her first two fights, and was feeling pretty damned good about herself. The problem was, the brash little brat ran her mouth all over the society, telling people I wasn't as tough as everyone thought, and that she was going to teach me a lesson by kicking my ass and making me look like a fool.

Pete nodded, and was scribbling enthustiacally on his pad.

"But that was a terrible mistake," Cobra said, lightly scratching the underside of Sasha's chin as if she were a pet, "wasn't it, kitten?"

Sasha looked at the floor and nodded. "Yes, my Queen."

Cobra laughed. "I'm not sure if there has been five minutes in that ring where one girl has been beaten that badly. She was in such agony from what I did to her the ref didn't hear her submit at first. I did, but I pretended not to hear it and kept working her over. She finally screamed it when I spread her butt cheeks and kicked her so that the toe of my boot was hitting her asshole directly. Otherwise it would have ended in four minutes, not five. I hurt her so bad that she was willing to suffer whatever indignities I would heap on her to avoid further punishment. But all I could think of when I looked at her pretty little body, crushed and quivering at my feet, was that I wanted her for more than just ten more minutes. I wanted her to be my slave, serve me, be at my beck and call. I wanted this humiliation to last a long time. I wanted to see that face in the morning, eager to serve and please me."

Pete listened with aroused fascination.

"So, I knelt next to her, and I told her that I was planning to strip her, fuck her, and invite the crowd to come up and pull out her pubic hairs one by one, until they were all gone. Then I was going to pull open her butt cheeks and piss right into her asshole. I had done that to another girl when I beat her, and she had been unable to hold it in before leaving the ring. She had to squat, and unleash all of my fluids from her ass, right there in her corner. Do you have any idea how humiliating it is for a female to be hold the liquid waste of another girl inside her body--and then to have to show it to everyone when she lets it loose?

"I...can't imagine.." Pete said, wincing as he took it all down on the pad and on his tape recorder.

"Anyway, I told her she had a choice--to suffer all that in front of everyone, or to live with me for six months and be my slave. No beatings, no pain, just servitude. She had to do everything I say until three months was up. Everything. She has to cook, clean, and take my messages. And when I get horny and need to get off, I use her. However I want. She lives in my walk-in closet. There's a small mattress there for her to sleep. Sometimes, of course," Cobra said, stroking Sasha's hair, "she is allowed to sleep in my bed. Aren't you, slave girl?"

Sasha nodded, her eyes on the floor.

"You see, she sleeps with a collar on, and long thin chain running from her collar to the side of my bed. When I tug on it, she comes to me," Cobra said with a wicked smile. "Comes in very handy when I get horny in the middle of the night and I want my pussy eaten."

"Good god," Pete whispered, writing frantically.

"Anyway, there she was in the ring at my feet. She lay there for about ten seconds, and then she nodded and said 'ok'." Cobra mocked the girl's whimpering, exhausted voice when she quoted her.

"That must have been a hell of a beating," Pete said, trying to tear his eyes from Sasha's beautiful ass. He looked apologetic when Cobra caught him staring.

"Sasha, go get on all fours in front of the nice man so he can get a better look at your ass."

Sasha wordlessly got up and displayed herself on the floor in front of Pete, laying her head down on the carpet and jutting her naked ass up next to his leg.

"Very nice..." he said in a voice raspy with excitement.

Cobra chuckled again. "Yes, as you said, it was quite a beating." Cobra got up took a video tape from a cabinet, and popped it in the VCR. "Here, see for yourself."

Pete looked at Cobra, then the naked Sasha, and then settled back to watch.

"I make her watch this when she gets whiny, which is every so often. It reminds of her why she's here, and what will happen to her if she doesn't hold up her end of the agreement. I spared her ten minutes in that ring, and I gave my share of the excess time money back to the society so the crowd didn't feel cheated. At first the crowd was upset at not seeing me take her further. When I explained the bargain that had been made, they asked for pictures of Sasha serving me. I have plenty. The club members will see them in an e-newsletter we circulate each month between matches." she said, winking at Pete.

"I don't suppose I could see--"

"You supposed right. You can't."  Cobra pointed to her feet, and leaned back on the sofa, and Sasha obediently lifted the blonde's feet and put a pillow under them.

"Good girl, Sasha. Now turn and watch the video. I know you've seen it before, but it doesn't hurt to have a refresher every so often."

Sasha turned and continued kneeling, and Pete took another long look at the splendid body of the brunette fighter-turned-slave, before focusing on the TV, where the fight was starting.

Pete watched in amazement as he saw Queen Cobra, in a black string bikini and boots, deliver a lightning fast flurry of slaps and punches into Sasha, who was wearing a light blue one piece of thin cotton. Sasha raised her hands and started to back away, but her swift opponent grabbed her by the hair, and pulled her toward her, then thumped her in the midsection with a trio of punches. Doubled over and stunned by the early assault, Sasha found herself quickly wrapped in a headlock. Cobra dropped to one knee, and yanked her dark haired opponent down onto her knee, smashing her midsection again. Sasha lay there open-mouthed, gasping for air, as Cobra yanked the back of her suit up into her crotch and spanked her like a naughty schoolgirl.

The crowd was hooting and cheering, and Cobra looked down at Sasha in contempt as the girl writhed and wheezed helplessly across her knee.

"Gonna beat my ass and teach me a lesson, huh cutie??" she yelled loud enough for the mike to pick up.

Then she doubled her fists, raised them high above her head and smashed them down onto the center of Sasha's back. The stricken brunette made a guttural, agonized sound and arched on Cobra's knee, her feet coming off the mat. Cobra shoved her to the mat, and stood over her as the brunette made desperate attempts to get up.

Pete snuck a look at Cobra, who was smiling, and rubbing her breasts slowly. Then he looked over at Sasha, who swallowed hard, her hands folded in her lap.

On the screen, Cobra circled the fallen girl and reached down for her hair. Pete saw that Sasha had reached deep inside and found some energy, just enough to spin out the way and kick Cobra's shin hard.

"AHH! Fuck...." the blonde barked, backing up instinctively. She reached down to hold her leg and Sasha scrambled forward, diving at the blonde, tackling her. Cobra fell to her back with a thud, and Sasha, whose arms were wrapped around the blonde fighter's knees, clawed her way up Cobra's body to try and get in position to straddle. She only made it halfway up, though, when Cobra cinched her legs around the brunette's upper chest, squeezing hard. Sasha's head reared back and her face was a mask of pain; Cobra's legs were long but well muscled, and she was giving Sasha every inch of the strength she had trained so hard to obtain. Sasha fell forward, her face open against Cobra's bare tummy. Desperately, she swung upward, trying to send a volley of blind roundhouse punches. One nailed Cobra's jaw, and other struck direcly on her tit, administering just enough pain to cause Cobra to loosen her leg grip. 

Sasha was free only for an instant: Cobra was a smart, fast thinking fighter, and knew Sasha would break free of the leg scissors, and she reared up, lifting her upper body off the canvas, and sent a fist crashing into the pretty fighter's cheek. Sasha sprawled backward, landing spread-eagled, holding her cheek, and then tried to roll to get up. Cobra was right there, though, and sent a painful kick right between her shapely thighs. The flat top part of Cobra's boot connected with Sasha's open crotch, sending her another foot forward and face down on the mat. She drew her legs up and tried to curl up as the sickening pain spread through her, but Cobra, who saw that this girl wasn't an easy surrender, went into high gear, not giving Sasha a moment's peace. She brough the girl up to her knees by her hair and punched her hard in the stomach. Keeping a grip on her hair, Cobra didn't let Sasha fall. She lifted her up again and again, sending several more punches into the girl's midsection.

Sasha was drooling and making hiccuping noises, and her eyes were bulging from lack of oxygen. Cobra picked the girl's entire body up just then, and carried her over to the corner. There, she fastened her to the turnbuckle upside down, hooking her legs in the top rope and her arms in the lower ones. Standing there at the corner, with Sasha's lovely crotch open just below her, Cobra looked out at the crowd and motioned to Sasha's groin.

Yells and shouts of encouragement came raining into the ring. Cobra smiled and slid her finger under the crotch of the one-piece suit. She pulled it away from Sasha's sex, and then, with the long index fingernail of her other hand, started to slice down the center of it, as if opening a piece of mail.

Pete saw Sasha look down. Cobra leaned over and slapped the back of Sasha's head. "Keep your eyes on the TV, girl! Unless you want to clean the back patio on your hands and knees with a toothbrush tonight. Do you??"

"No, Ma'am...I'm sorry," Sasha said meekly.

Pete noticed his mouth was extremely dry. His eyes shot back to the screen, where Sasha's think little one-piece swimsuit was being surgically cleaved in half at the crotch. Cobra then gripped each side of the cut open fabric and pulled as hard as she could. The suit tore wide open, and the crowd jeered as Sasha's ass and pussy were spread wide open for all to see on the wide TV screens, as the ceiling camera shot down for a perfect bird's-eye view.

Then Cobra stepped back and showered Sasha with punches, just above her pussy...on her breasts, and ribs. The kicked the defeated girl's face several times as she hung there helplessly like freshly shot trophy animal.

The giant clock on the wall ticked down to 10:54 remaining, when Cobra stopped battering the moaning girl and pulled her off the corner ropes, letting her land on her stomach with a sickening thump. Cobra reached down and slid her arms under the girl's thighs, and hoisted her hips up, as if readying her for a fucking. Then, the part Cobra had described to Pete earlier had arrived. Cobra cruelly held Sasha's ass cheek open with one hand, then delivered a kick into her ass. The toe of her boot, Pete could tell, was punishing the girl's anus. Cobra kick her again, and again, and Sasha blubbered something unintelligible. After a fourth vicious kick to her asshole, she clearly screamed, "PPPLEASE STOPP!!!"

The referee quickly stepped between Cobra and what was left of Sasha, and gently pushed Cobra back.

"It's over!" the ref yelled. He looked at his watch. "You have ten minutes, Cobra."

That's when Cobra went over to the bent over form of Sasha, and whispered in her ear.

"And the rest," Cobra said, hitting the "stop" button the remote and reaching out to stroke Sasha's dark hair, "is history."

"Wow." Pete said. "I'm...." he was trying to say something like "speechless", but the blood that would normally fuel his speech patterns was currently steaming in his cock, which was visibly rock hard under his trousers.

"Horny," Cobra finished the sentence for him with a laugh.

"Yes...yes, sorry," Pete said, clearing his throat. He gathered his pad, pen, and tape recorder, figuring that if he busied himself with the idea of leaving, his erection would subside. "Thanks for the interview. Thanks so much," he said.

"No need to go in your condition, Pete," Cobra said evenly, looking at him deeply.

Pete stopped, looking at Cobra, trying to understand where she was going.

"Sasha," she said, looking at her naked slave. "Take care of our nice visitor so he doesn't leave here all flustered."

Sasha turned her head slowly, looking at Cobra, begging silently. The dominant blonde narrowed her gaze, her tone becoming sterner. "You heard me, girl. Get over there and suck his cock. NOW."

Sasha closed her eyes helplessly, and mumbled, "Yes, Queen Ma'am." Then she crawled over to the completely astounded reporter and knelt between his legs. Wordlessly, the curvaceous brunette undid Pete's belt and pants, and slide them down his legs. She slid his underwear down as Pete cooperated with a slight lift of his hips. His cock wavered, crimson and stiff in front of her. This part, he thought to himself, he will have to leave out of the article

Pete looked over at Cobra in amazement. "Wow....thank you, Queen Cobra."

"Oh believe me, dear, it is my pleasure," she said with a slight chuckle. Then she leaned back, and slid her hand under robe, playing with herself as Sasha slowly harbored the man's cock in her warm, moist mouth.

Pete leaned his head back and gasped, and his cock went deep into Sasha's throat. He noticed that Sasha didn’t look up at him. She was doing this because Queen Cobra ordered her to. That turned him on all the more.

Maybe, he decided, he would include this in the article after all.

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