Kayla and Heather, tag-team partners and friends, strolled side by side along the corridor in the underground area of the Extreme League building, chatting easily as they headed towards Weight Training Room Two and an hour long session of hard work. Wearing matching outfits of crop-tops with lycra shorts (Kayla in black, Heather in red), they paused at the entrance as they noticed that the illuminated red sign that showed the room to be occupied was still glowing brightly. Shrugging their shoulders, the pair ignored the sign and pushed the double doors open, stepping over the threshold before suddenly freezing on the spot. "What are you doing here?!" snapped out Kayla. "We've got this room booked from three!"

Lowering the heavily laden dumbbell gently to the floor, Bridget glanced at the clock mounted on the wall which read 15.02. "Sorry," she said in her lilting Welsh accent, "I didn't notice the time." Bending, she grabbed her towel and mopped her brow, large perspiration stains on her black sports bra and track suit trousers giving visible evidence of how tough her own workout had been. "I'll be out of here in two minutes."

"Really?" sniggered Kayla. "We'll see about that . I've been looking forward to meeting you, Ding-Dong Bell. I'm Kayla and I'm not sure I want to wait for the Commissioner to put us in the ring together. Maybe I should just kick your butt here and now.?"

Sighing as she realized that the woman before her wasn't going to accept a simple apology, Bridget draped her towel around her neck and rested her hands on her hips. "I know who you are . three fights in the League, won them all, the one against Melissa being particularly vicious . a pretty impressive record. And your lapdog is Heather . not such a good score, I'm afraid . two fights, won one, lost one . and the one she emerged victorious in was a tag match with you as her partner. And my name, by the way, is Bridget."

"Your name," sneered Kayla as she nodded her head briefly towards the door, "is what I choose to call you."

"Look," Bridget tried again as she watched Heather, in response to Kayla's nod, drop back a pace and take a stance before the door, guarding it and simultaneously preventing anyone else coming in or the Welsh girl's easy exit. "Look, I don't want no trouble ... I don't want to get involved in the politics of this place . I just want to be left alone to do a job. So, if you wouldn't mind, call your bitch to heel and I'll be on my way."

Both the other women in the room snorted before Heather said, "Too late for that now, scrubber. You should have made sure you were out of the room before your time ran out."

"Now, Heather," Kayla cut in smoothly, "don't antagonize our new found friend . I'm sure we can work something out amicably. We don't want trouble either, do we?"

"We don't?" questioned her perplexed partner.

"Of course we don't. You see, Ding-Dong, you can just leave . any time you like, no problem . all you got to do is to get down onto your hands and knees and kiss my feet first."

Bridget's eyes rolled to the ceiling. "You gotta be kidding me! I didn't believe them when the told me you were a two-cent wannabe leather clad dominatrix . now I find out that they were right! Guess you want me to call you 'Mistress' too?"

"That would be nice," agreed Kayla as Heather chuckled quietly by the door.

"Go fuck yourself!" snapped the British fighter as she jerked the towel away from her neck and tossed it to the floor.

Kayla slipped her bag off her shoulder and took a step forward even as Heather folded her arms and, with a knowing smirk, leaned back against the door. Quick as a flash, Bridget reached out her right hand and grabbed hold of a five kilo bell-bar weight which, swinging like an Olympian discus thrower, she fired towards Kayla who, spotting the move instantly dodged to one side so that the flying weight missed her by inches. Unfortunately, her line of sight blocked by her friend, Heather didn't spot what was happening until far too late and the weight caught her in the pit of her stomach. Eyes wide open in shock, the woman slowly collapsed to her knees, her hands clamped over her injury even as her mouth gapped wide as she gasped for air like a fish out of water. "You bitch!" snarled an irate Kayla as she angrily threw a wild haymaker punch towards Bridget's face. With the advantage of being cool and calm, the Welsh girl raised her left arm, blocking the incoming fist
before firing a one, two combination into Kayla's belly and jaw. Shocked by both the speed and power of her opponent, the South African stepped back and shook her head, quickly revising her plans. Bridget, seeing no further reason to delay her departure from the room, headed towards the door unmindful of Heather who, as her attacker passed by, shot out her legs and trapped Bridget's ankles in a scissors.

Trapped and stumbling, but getting her balance quickly back, Bridget reached out with her left arm and intertwined her fingers into Heather's flowing locks. Pulling hard, the Welsh accented voice vowed, "Let me go before I jerk your hair out by its roots!"

"No," said a voice behind her, "you'll release my friend and then we'll settle this."

Looking over her shoulder, Bridget saw that Kayla had already recovered and was stood there with an unladen weights bar, holding it like a baseball bat and aimed at the Brit's head. Cursing, but seeing she had no option, Bridget released her grip but then Kayla surprised her by telling Heather to unlock her scissors. It took awhile and was only done with bad grace, but eventually the red attired fighter did as her friend had asked. Turning to face Kayla, Bridget asked, "So what happens now?"

"You and me, here and now, woman against woman, no weapons, no interference," explained Kayla.

Bridget laughed bitterly. "Oh, yeah? Like you expect me to believe that? With you standing there, holding that rod in your hands and your pal to back you up? What sort of idiot do you take me for?"

Without a word, Kayla tossed the bar away from her so it landed on the floor a few feet away with a loud crash. "Heather," she said, "you stay out of this. As for you, Ding-Dong, you don't really have a choice - you can accept my terms or face the pair of us."

Now it was Bridget turn to smile, abet a little wanly. "Since you put it like that, I guess I have to trust you. I just hope that you have more honor than your reputation grants you."

"You beat me, and you walk outta here without Heather doing anything to prevent you from going . you lose, you're on your knees kissing my feet."

"Yeah, yeah, you said that already . and, like I already pointed out, I guess I don't have any option. You ready then?" ended Bridget as she dropped into a fighting crouch.

With Heather now sitting on the floor, back against the door and rubbing her still sore belly, her partner grinned savagely and, moving with a speed the startled Bridget, nipped in towards the Welsh fighter and forced Bridget's right arm into a painful bar. Gasping, Bri reacted instinctively and smashed her heel down into the South African's instep. "Bitch!" snapped Kayla in her curiously hybrid accent, releasing her grip and backing away, favoring her uninjured leg. Feinting high, Bridget suddenly ducked and grabbed hold of the Springbok's* leg, jerking it off the canvas and twisting it ruthlessly by the ankle while simultaneously charging her shoulder into Kayla's body. With a yelp, Kayla went down, her hands reaching out and locking around Bridget's head and pulling back. Both fighters heaved and strained, riding out the pain and discomfort they were enduring, trying to get the better of the other. As the women realized that they were going nowhere with this, they
simultaneously broke the holds and scrambled back to their feet, Bridget with her back to Kayla. Thinking that she had the advantage, the South African closed in only to stagger back clutching at her chin as Bridget spun in a three hundred and sixty degrees turn, the heel of her thrust out right leg smashing into Kayla's face. Staggering to one side, grapping at an exercise bicycle for support, Kayla shook her head to clear her vision only to yelp once more as Bridget locked her left arm into a hammerlock. Throwing herself backwards, Kayla reversed her Welsh opponent against the wall, stunning her and weakening the grip Bridget had on Kayla's arm. Twice more Kayla repeated the move until Bridget's grip totally gave way. Now the South African spun round and grabbed at her rival's arm before whipping her round and firing her back first into one of the exercise machines. Hitting the device hard, a confused Bridget tried to free herself from the wires that she had become
tangled in.

Heather, having recovered from her injury, was on her feet now, yelling support and advice to her tag team partner, her right hand surreptitiously rubbing at the tight, red material of her shorts as she enjoyed the spectacle of the battle unfolding before her.

Taking advantage of her rival's misfortune, Kayla lashed out with a volley of punches aimed mostly at Bri's abs, but some striking somewhat lower. Gritting her teeth, Bridget grasped some of the strong metal poles that the machine was constructed of and, lifting both her legs, she folded her knees up to her chest before, with an explosive movement; she powered the heels of her boots into Kayla's chest. With a cry of disbelief, Kayla was propelled back across the room, the back of her shins striking a low, wooden bend that she promptly stumbled over, landing hard on her arse on the other side, her right breast threatening to break free of its constraining cup. Finally freeing herself from her entanglement, Bridget gave chase even as her rival struggled to her feet and reached to adjust herself. Lashing out with her legs, Bridget attempted to kick at Kayla but, in the cluttered confines of the training room, it was easy for the African fighter to keep dodging behind one
piece of equipment or the other. Seeing that her current tactic was never going to work in this confined environment, Bridget stepped back and considered her options.

By the door, Heather had given up all pretence at subtlety and was now sitting on the floor with her knees raised and thighs parted, rubbing herself vigorously and openly, a damp patch spreading out around her fingers, staining the lycra a darker shade of maroon her gleaming, eager eyes fixed on her friend, a low moan of pleasure escaping her lips.

Her attention attracted by her friend's mewling, Kayla turned to look which was a grave error as Bridget seized the moment and sprang forward, her right hand clamping itself between Kayla's legs, her left taking hold of the woman around her throat. Squeezing hand with both hands, Bri prepared to lift.

Eyes popping open under the assault, Kayla acted as fast as she could and, even as her feet left the floor, she spread her arms wide before slamming them back together again, her fists colliding with Bridget's ears. Head ringing, the crop-haired fighter released her grip and staggered back, hands clutching at the sides of her head . springing forward, Kayla grabbed hold of Bridget's top and used it to pull the woman back towards her even as her knee crashed up between the black clad legs. Spittle flecked out of Bridget's mouth as she gasped in pain and shock, a gasp repeated as Kayla subjected her rival's pussy to another dollop of mistreatment. With Bridget now weakened, Kayla spun her round and pushed her forward into the waist high top of a wooden vaulting horse. Forcing Bridget's impressive chest forward and down with her hands, Kayla excitedly sensed victory and shoved her right leg between Bridget's and started to use it to spread the Welsh girl's feet apart.
"Time top finish this off, bitch!" Kayla hissed into Bridget's ear before calling aloud to Heather, "Toss me some of the skipping ropes."

With her hand now buried deep inside her shorts, Heather barely heard the instruction and Kayla had to repeat it, her face turned momentarily towards the door to check what her partner was up to and this brief distraction was Kayla's undoing for it allowed Bridget a vital second or two in which to recover and to drive her right elbow viciously back here it connected with Kayla's breast. Stunned, the Springbok's grip faltered and Bridget managed to get herself upright again. Reaching behind her, she locked her fingers into Kayla hair and tugged, swinging round slightly to the South African's body collided heavily with the horse. Releasing her grip, Bridget instead grabbed at Kayla's black shorts and, with a vicious tug, hauled them half way down the woman's legs, exposing the small, black leather with metal silver studs thong that Kayla wore beneath. The constricting material of her shorts now held the fighter's knees together, restricting her movements and making it
easy for Bridget to land punch after punch onto Kayla's face and body. But the woman was no push over and she defended herself as best she could, even flinging the odd counter-punch, one of which badly stunned Bridget and blooded her nose, but it was never going to be enough and, slowly, the Welsh woman gained the upper hand. Realization now began to dawn on Kayla that she was going to lose this match; shocked to the core at the sudden reversal of fortunes, she tried to work out just what had gone wrong, just how Bridget had managed to turn the fight around and, of course, the one fact that kept screaming itself into Kayla's mind was that she'd been let down and distracted by her tag-partner who'd been far to busy satisfying her own sexual lusts!

Smiling as she noticed the doubt shooting into Kayla's now frightened eyes and spotting that the dominatrix was on her last legs; Bridget ceased with her boxing and, grabbing the swaying Kayla by the shoulders, rammed her knee up hard into the woman's cunt. Screaming in pain, Kayla tried to get away but Bridget was having none of that as she taunted, "Going somewhere?" and landed a second knee bang on target. "Aaagggghhhhh!" the Springbok gasped before starting to beg, "Please, no more . don't hurt me any more!" Smiling and totally ignoring the woman's pleas, Bridget spun her round and then clamped her hands over the African's mouth and nose in a smother. "Gotta, bitch!" the Welsh bruiser gloated, "Time for you to take a short nap." As Bridget cut off the other woman's air, Kayla's body started to shake as her instincts took over from her cool, calculating brain . no longer was she a trained fighter seeking a sporting victory, now she was just another animal trying to
survive! Her arms and legs began to frantically thrash about but this didn't last long and, almost quickly as it started, the phase passed and she slumped back against Bridget's body, almost as if she were a lover who had just enjoyed the most powerful of sexual climaxes.

By the door, Heather's eyes were closed, her hips jerking as a powerful orgasm washed over her. Falling back, she took in several deep gasps of air before she finally opened her eyes . then she gasped! This wasn't possible! Her partner, the undefeated Kayla, was in trouble! Even as Heather watched, her friend's knees gave way and her body started to slump to the floor. Giving vent to an inarticulate scream of rage, Heather got to her feet, grabbed at one of the sets of skipping ropes and threw herself towards the exposed back of the Welsh fighter.

Blowing the blood from her nose away from her mouth, Bridget smiled in satisfaction as Kayla slipped into unconsciousness . but, just then, a rope was dropped over her own neck and pulled tight, a knee planted into the small of her back. Instantly, with a sudden chill, Bridget knew what had happened and, releasing Kayla's body to crumple to the floor, she forced her fingers between her flesh and the rope, pulling it away from her windpipe. "The rules!" she managed to gasp, "You not to attack me!"

Jerking back with all her strength, Heather hissed into the woman's ear, "I made no such promise! Kayla doesn't tell me what to do!" Smiling, Heather pulled even harder and was rewarded with an inarticulate gurgle and a body whose struggles were slowly weakening. Despite her joy at punishing the woman who'd hurt her partner so, Heather also felt a pang of guilt as she looked down at Kayla's comatose body . if only she'd not been so wrapped up in her own pleasures, she'd have spotted much sooner just how much trouble her partner was in and she could have intervened earlier. But that was all water under the bridge now and, increasing the pressure, Heather throttled Bridget with the thin cord.

**

When Bridget opened her eyes, she found that she'd been stripped naked and bound, on her back, into one of the machines, her legs parted, her wrists tied to a cross beam above her head. Her neck was sore, her throat dry, her nose blocked with dried blood and behind her she could hear an ongoing argument.

".I didn't think you meant it!" Heather was protesting venomously.

"And what gave you that bright idea? I said it, didn't I? What would make you think I didn't mean it?" Kayla's voice persisted.

"You've never been fair before . you usually use every dirty trick in the book! I just assumed."

"Well, don't assume!" snapped Kayla angrily. A pause followed and then, in a much calmer tone, Kayla continued. "Look, I'm trying to change my image a little. I'm fed up of being the biggest bitch on the block. I still intend being rough and tough but I want to be seen as being honorable too."

"Sheesh!" muttered Heather, clearly disgusted with the whole stupid concept.

"I can see that there's no talking to you at the moment!" Kayla retorted, her anger rising again. "Look, I'm going to my room to calm down, you cut Ding-Dong loose and I'll meet you this evening for a drink and we can talk this though like calm adults!" Suddenly the South African's retreating back appeared in Bridget's line of sight heading towards the door, rapidly followed by Heather, still trying to justify her actions. As the pair vanished into the corridor, Bridget called out desperately, "Hey! What about me?!? You can't leave me like this!!!"

The retreating footsteps paused and Kayla's voice was heard telling Heather, once again, to free Bridget. One set of footsteps then retreated up the corridor while the other returned to the room again. "Thanks, Heather." muttered Bridget as she watched the other woman slip her bag off her shoulder and reach inside. Fully expecting Heather's hand to reappear with a knife to cut the bindings, Bridget was shocked to see it pull out a vibrator instead. "What are you doing?" she gasped, worried.

"You've dropped me right onto the crap with Kayla," snarled Heather, "and now I'm going to make you suffer."

Opening her mouth to protest, Bridget suddenly found Heather ramming a dirty, smelly pair of panties into her open maw before sticking a length of duck tape over her lips to hold the impromptu gag in place. Giggling evilly, Heather then forced the vibrator fully into Bridget's hole before switching it on at full speed and taping that in place too. "Enjoy yourself, slut," she smirked as, picking up her bag, she headed for the door, flicking the occupied sign on as she left. 'Wonder how often a bound slut can cum in an hour?' she idly wondered to herself, 'and how much each one will be hurting by that stage.?'

"MMMMUUUPPPHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!" screamed Bridget as she franticly flexed her muscles in a doomed effort to free herself, the vibrator already starting to make her moist.



*Springbok - slang term for a South African.

The end.


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