Second Fight

by Aristocatch

After my triumphal losing fight I slept like a log but, my God, did my body hurt the next day! And for several days after. Within ten days though there were no wounds to see and no bruises still visible. I heard after, that my opponent, sure of an easy victory, had arranged a fight (with another producer) three days after her fight with me. Such was the state of her body that she had to postpone that fight. Such a shame!

The producer of my two fights quickly got back in touch to check that I really did want to fight again and he had soon arranged the chance, though with a date nearly two months off. This time my opponent had a won-two-lost-two record. The producer reckoned that I should beat her and that the fight would likely be very different. He couldn't resist telling me that she had a very white body which marked easily – clearly he was hoping that I would leave plenty of marks that the camera would pick up!

At work one or two people remarked that my hair looked a mess after the last fight, but none could see the various cuts, scrapes and bruises that adorned my body. The rule banning attacking heads made it possible to continue a day job and have odd fights.

The new fight was in a different location. A large living room with blue padding over the floor and two settees left as part of the fighting zone. My opponent seemed quite friendly, blond and as they used to say, buxom, giving her a weight advantage of a few pounds over me. She wasted no time telling me that she had seen my last fight, and that it would likely be very different to the fight I was to have with her. Having seen videos of her fights I had already come to that conclusion too!

We were to be partially clothed – a light blouse without bra and a pair of panties. I chose the flimsiest pair I could find, noticing that she did as well. I didn't need telling that her boobs should be uncovered as quickly as possible – must give those prepared to pay to watch the fight their money's worth. Other than that, nothing was scripted and we were encouraged beforehand to scrap as much as we could and not be afraid of using unladylike holds.

The blouses lasted all of twenty seconds and from then on we were topless. Panties stayed in place somewhat longer as the beginning (after shredding blouses) was dominated by positioning and testing the other out. Firstly standing and then on the floor as each tried to wrestle for top position, not looking to attack and leave the other free to retaliate.

Even when sitting on her midriff, we still had hold of the others hands. Finally I got my right hand free and landed a nice slap to her boob before she had grasped it again. She was clearly right handed as well and so we both struggled to get our right hands free from our opponent's left hand grasp. Each time we did it produced a boob slap, though without much force as speed was more important than getting any back lift. It did mark the beginning of hostilities though.

Changing tactics she caught hold of my hair and pulled me off her. I wisely rolled clear and we came to our knees, face to face, stood slowly up and advanced towards each other equally slowly. I did the old 'move left and then dodge to the right move' which worked a treat. One arm round her neck as I moved behind her, and one hand full of boob which I squeezed, but only gently.

She tried to kick my shins, so I pulled her down, with me still behind her. When she was sitting I released her neck to take both boobs in hand. She tried to reach behind her to target me, but at least for the time being, she couldn't reach any part of me that she could exploit.

I was mostly just holding her boobs, not really seeking to hurt her. She knew that and made little effort to stop me supposedly squeezing them on camera. We followed that up by mutual breast holding, making sure that we were clearly visible for the viewing public, and not hurting each other. There are producers who make fights like that, ours doesn't, but he would hardly grumble if tit groping made a prelude to something more real after.

I whispered 'enough' in her ear and we rolled apart, preparing for real hostilities.

Rushing into each other I came off worse and found myself under her, with my pussy being invaded by panty fabric as she pulled on a wedgie. That could have been very painful, had I not chosen my panties carefully and, once she had stretched them too far, they kindly ripped apart, leaving my pussy open to view, but fairly unscathed.

Maybe later in the fight she would risk attacking my pussy, but right now she didn't want to take the fight in that direction, so she spun over so that she was lying on me. I held her with one arm, and pulled her panties with the other. Predictably they too ripped before causing her more than a minimum of discomfort. She rolled off me and we got to our feet, shedding torn undergarments and leaving us in our birthday suits.

Strangely enough we then had what was almost a wrestling match, trying to pin the other into a helpless position, not succeeding, but avoiding catfight moves, in trying to stop the other becoming dominant. She was experienced enough to be prepared to use her extra weight to combat my skills which, I felt, were superior, and to avoid losing focus by using one or more of her hands to try to cause pain. She had already told me that she had seen my last fight, so she knew that I wouldn't submit from the first painful hold she put me in and, perhaps more to the point, I wasn't squeamish about hurting her.

The one thing that did progress was the increased raggedness of her breathing. She was losing her puff faster than I was and I was prepared to wait until she was too out of breath to defend herself properly before making my move. Unfortunately I hadn't calculated just how long we had been fighting and the bell for the end of the round rather brutally stopped my plans dead.

By the time round two began she was breathing normally again and had gulped down quite a bit of water.

Thirty seconds of sparring with nothing more than a few slaps exchanged, and we hit the floor. Somehow the tangled mess ended up with her lying across my head and shoulders, covering my face. Her legs blocked my left arm and I had only time to quickly grab her nearest tit before she pulled my hand off.

I struggled, but couldn't get her off me. She was content to stay in place, let me tire myself out and hope that I eventually gave in, to be able to resume fighting normally. I wasn't about to do that, even though it soon became clear that I wasn't going to get clear. I bridged and almost rolled her off. With hindsight that was a bad idea as it gave her an idea. As soon as I bridged again she shot an arm out and her fingers began digging into my pussy that I had just kindly gifted her.

She wasn't going to stop without getting a submission and she was willing to be quite unkind with my snatch. In fact not just willing but causing me some real pain. There was plenty of time left in the fight so submit I did.

To say I was disappointed would be an understatement. She was quite within my capacities but, with this style of fighting, nothing can be taken for granted. I took deep breaths to calm me down and told myself that I could outfight her and indeed that I would outfight her. I had to remain calm and not rush into say attacking her pussy. Winning was what counted and there would probably be better ways of doing that. Winning would be vengeance in itself. Hurting her pussy, but losing the fight wouldn't be vengeance.

I came out fighting as they say. Riding through her attempted slap I took her down to the floor with my legs wrapped around her. Using her hair I pulled her up my body, her back against my front. Until her head was just below mine. One hand retained the hair, the right one sought out her right boob and this time I didn't just hold it.

Despite its relative size her boob wasn't as hard as I had expected and my fingers dug into it where I had expected to meet resistance. Although I was surprised I didn't lose my hold and began softening it up (if that is still the appropriate expression).

Her hands were not held and she tried reaching for my breasts (without success) and then my hair. She did get hold of my hair, so I decided to up the anti as they say. I dug my heel into her lower abdomen, kicking it hard enough to force her to expel air and then once a little further down, feeling the start of her shaven pubes under my heel.

Releasing her hair, but keeping my heel pressed into her, my left hand found her nipple and both hands began clawing her breasts. She grit her teeth, but a further kick into the lower abdomen gave her food for thought and when I pulled hard on both nipples she called a halt to proceedings. The score evened up with a minimum of delay.

We were told before the restart that there was only roughly a minute left and I thought she might try to keep away from me, to get her breath back and start afresh in round three, but I underestimated her.

I caught her boob with a resounding slap, before she bowled me over. We fell apart, me clear of her head, her on her back. Coming back over her I wasted no time crushing her left boob in hand. Despite her position she quickly retaliated and we were both boob bashing, firstly one and then, as we manoeuvred both. This was the first time in the fight that she had tried to hurt my boobs and, I can tell you, that she was doing a good job.

Her boobs were still sore from her earlier submission and I was determined to make them sorer to help me win further submissions, so I gritted my teeth and went to town on them. We were still at it when the buzzer went and, if the producer wanted marked tits, he really got his money's worth as we released our holds, showing how unkind we had been to each other. I could see red marks on my boobs, but it was nothing compared to hers. Having been told she marked easily I wasn't however fooled into thinking that hers were more damaged than mine just by their colour though I did make a remark about them, just for any psychological value.

The last round began at a frantic rate, mostly rolling around on the floor, neither getting a dominant position, but both doing all we could to weaken the other with slaps and punches into the body, fairly fleeting breast mauling, a bit of hair pulling but especially a lot of effort.

We were both breathing heavily when we finally got back on our feet. I grabbed her and we staggered back into one of the settees, losing our footing. As I fell backwards I made sure I pulled her with me and reacting first to the impact of the chair, I wrapped my legs around her and seized her tits.

She had one idea, to break free and not attacking me back, she tried all she could to open my legs, force us off the settee, drag my hands off her boobs. She kept succeeding, for seconds, before my hands were torturing her chest again. She did manage to force us off the settee onto the floor, but not to break free. As fast as she pulled a hand off her tit, I would find a way of getting it back. If I couldn't get tit fully in hand, no worry, I pulled or twisted the nipple.

She called out her submission and the way that she rubbed her chest once free showed only too clearly that she had reached her limit. It also showed me where to concentrate my efforts.

Upon the restart she tried to keep her distance, allowing me to land four resounding slaps to her boobs and then, when she covered her breasts, right between the legs. She didn't know what to protect next and received my thigh between her legs as a result. I took pity and didn't ram my knee home, knowing that the fight was mine.

She was a brave girl as, realising that she couldn't safely simply defend she launched her claws at my chest, hurting me, but leaving her boobs open to further abuse, which seemed to sap her morale.

I pulled her legs out from under her, pulled her backwards towards me so that her body was effectively protecting mine. Punched her in the ribs for good measure and then took one hand of hair and one of boob, briefly squeezing the whole and then concentrating on the nipple. Her submission didn't take long.

I was three-one up, and in no danger of losing. I had no animosity towards her, and didn't particularly want her surrendering the fight, even if there wasn't long left. It was clear that she wouldn't be able to take any more pain in her breasts and so, giving her a hug after we had separated from the submission, I whispered that I would leave her tits alone if she left mine alone.

Emboldened by this decision she came out fighting and landed several punches to my ribs and back as we grappled. When she tried to get a hand on my pussy however, I decided that was going too far. Removing her hands from my nether regions by launching a wild array of slaps against her bum, leaving it red all over, I gave her some own back for my earlier submission, mangling her pussy just enough to prove my point, but nothing like as hard as I would have done had I needed another submission.

I was happy with my victory. The producer was more than happy with the state of her body which he showed in full detail during the post-fight interview and he wasn't unhappy to show several marks that she had left on me.

We went off to the showers together, along with the first-aid kit. She proposed showing her 'gratitude' for my decision to leave her breasts alone, and briefly rubbed me between the legs in the shower. I didn't feel ready for that though and soon stopped her. It wasn't that what she was doing was unpleasant, or that I was against it, but my tits especially and other parts of my body, stung under the shower, and put aside sexier thoughts.