It’s almost 11:00 pm and I am sitting in my ringside seat at
The Poison Lair where a Death Match is about to take place. I am here in my usual capacity as a trophy
for the winner, and will spend the night fucking whichever woman emerges from
the ring alive at the end of the fight.
The lights go out and the sold out crowd explodes with enthusiasm. The ring spotlight turns on and there is TheExecutioner, standing in the middle of the squared circle with her customary megaphone.
The mysterious masked woman voice trails off and she pauses
for a few seconds to build the anticipation.
“A FIGHT TO THE DEATH!!!”
The crowd goes BANANAS.
With the exception of Birthday Girl Death Matches, which take place at
midnight, other death matches at The Poison Lair are not pre-announced, and
spectators who are here on nights when there is no scheduled Birthday Girl
Match don’t know if they are going to get to see a death match or not. (Except me.
I’m always kept in the loop because it is always preferably for me to be
here for death matches. Luckily for them
I have always been really good at keeping secrets.)
“NOW APPROACHING THE RING….IN THE PINK PANTIES…..BETH!!!”
Now the crowd REALLY goes wild. Beth has only been here a few months and has
quickly become one of their favorite brawlers.
The young blue eyed blonde marches quickly down the aisle, her pony tail
bouncing up and down as she walks. When
she gets close to my seat she gives me a wink and blows me a kiss before
practically leaping into the ring and going to her corner, where she turns and
stares across the empty ring. The crowd is already chanting her name.
“BETH! BETH! BETH! BETH! BETH! BETH! BETH!” And then The Executioner holds up one hand
and the arena falls into almost immediate silence.
“BETH IS 18 YEARS OLD.
HER PROFESSIONAL FIGHT RECORD STANDS AT 30 WINS…0 LOSSES…AND 13 KILLS!”
Another healthy burst of cheers and applause for the young
juggernaut. When it dies down the
Executioner continues.
“AND NOW…APPROACHING THE RING…KN THE MAGENTA PANTIES, HIGH HEELS AND FISHNETS…..BRIGITTE!”
As Brigitte storms down the aisle, she is greeted with
mostly boos and guffaws. She shouts insults at some of the fans.
“THIS little girl is no match for me! You’re all PATHETIC!”
“BOOOOOO!!!!”
“HHSSSSSS!”
“YOU’RE ABOUT TO DIE YOU DUMB SLAG!”
“Yeah, We’ll see about THAT!” She shouts back, then it seems like she
notices me for the first time and her mean mug dissolves into a smile as she
sways her hips on her way over to my chair.
She makes a BIG show out of swinging one leg high over me so
she can mount my lap. Her crotch glides
across my stiffening member as she moves in for a kiss and I massage her butt
while we make out, running my fingers along the inside of the waistband of her fighting
panties. Beth just stares at us with her
wide sky blue eyes, showing no sign of emotion.
After a few minutes she climbs off me and rolls under the bottom rope,
hopping up quickly and giving Beth a sneer before walking to her corner with a
sultry swagger in her hips. She is
clearly NOT scared of the teenage fighter.
“ARE YOU READY TO DIE LITTLE GIRL?” She sneers at Beth, who simply stars back at
her with her wide blue eyes. Brigitte
goes to her corner and stretches out against the top rope.
“BRIGITTE IS 25 YEARS OLD!
HER PRO RECORD STANDS AT 72 WINS…40 LOSSES AND 9 KILLS!”
Mostly boos and hisses boon out from the crowd, but I do
hear a handful of cheers scattered amongst the fans. Some women LOVE the way Brigitte uses her
heels to end a brawl even if it is generally looked down on in the City.
“LADIES…APPROACH THE CENTER OF THE RING FOR FACE OFF. STAND BREAST TO BREAST BUT MAKE NO ATTACKS!”
I have not yet seen anyone make even the slightest
indication they are going to violate the Executioner’s protocol, and I sometimes
wonder how it would go. Maybe someday I will
see it happen, but it is not today. The
two blonde warriors march straight toward each other and their chests slam
together with a thud. They glare into
each other’s eyes with sheer hatred and contempt.
“THIS IS A FIGHT TO THE DEATH! THE FINAL BELL WILL NOT BE RUNG UNTIL ONE OF
YOU IS NO LONGER BREATHING OR HAS BEEN ENSLAVED FOR LIFE! DO YOU BOTH AGREE TO
THIS MATCH?”
“YES!: They shout immediately.
“RETURN TO YOUR CORNERS AND WAIT... WHEN THE BELL RINGS……FIGHT!”
Quickly the two young women make their way back to their
corners, where they turn and face each other across the expanse of the small
fighting ring.
Several long minutes pass.
The Executioner loves to let the tension build. You can almost feel the anticipation choking
the air in the packed arena. I look at Brigitte, standing there in her
corner just shooting icicles out of her eyes at her much younger foe. She is full of confidence but I have a
feeling se will be finished shortly after the bell has rung. In death Matches Beth is ALL business and always
goes for the kill very quickly. Brigitte
has a tendency to torture her kills for a while, so if she manages to get the
upper hand she is likely to try dragging it out too long and making a
mistake. I never bet on these fights,
but if I was going to…
DING!
DING! DING!
My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the bell and the
two women practically leap out of their corners and charge towards the center
of the ring. Brigitte lifts her foot up
high in the air in an attempt to catch Beth in the face with her heel but Beth
swings her shoulders back and snatches her opponent by the foot. Brigitte is already in trouble. Beth has her
foot held up high in the air and Brigitte’s eyes widen with fear.
PLUD!!! Beth kicks her in the crotch HARD, actually
lifting her completely off the canvas with the force of the blow. She releases
her foot immediately and lets her drop to her butt.
“AAAIIIIEEEEEE!”
Brigitte lets out a high pitched squeal of agony as she starts to double
over as soon as she hits the canvas.
Beth immediately walks over and grabs her hair, pulling her back up to a
kneeling position, her arms hanging limply at her sides. Brigitte seems completely out of it. Beth
cocks her fist up over her face.
THAP! THAP! THAP!
Three quick jack hammers into Brigitte’s face spray fresh
blood out over the light gray canvas and then Beth lets her drop onto her back
with a loud thud that shakes the ring a little.
Brigitte splays out limply on her back.
Her pelvis twerks a couple times and she goes limp. She is out cold! Beth slowly circles her
prey. This could be it. Beth likes to end them quick. Suddenly she steps forward, bends over and
gives Brigitte a couple light face slaps.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
No response. She grabs a handful
of Brigitte’s light blonde hair and starts to pull the dead weight of her up to
a standing position. She holds her up by
the hair and gives her a couple more face slaps.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
Brigitte twitches and her eyes flicker open.
“UUNnnggghhh?”
“Talk some more shit about how you’re going to end me.” Beth says.
It’s unusual for her to talk, especially during a death match. Brigitte just trembles and lets out another
groan.
“OOOhhhhoohh…”
Then Beth sprints across the ring with her and plants her
face into the top turnbuckle sand filled pad.
THUD! Blood splatters
the pad with the dull impact of Brigitte’s face. Her body stiffens and she collapses heavily
onto her back, completely unconscious, her limp body jerking and twitching spasmodically
like an electrified ragdoll. Beth
circles her, then calmly places the heel of her foot on Brigitte’s neck.
CRUNCH!!! With one twist of her heel Beth crushes Brigitte’s
neck. Her body jerks violently one last
time and as a final devastating humiliation she shits herself as she dies.
DING!
DING! DING!
“WE HAVE A WINNER!
WITH HER 13th KILL!!! BETH!”
The victorious teenage brawler raises her arms and flexes her
muscles for me as I climb through the ropes. She juts her perfect round breasts
up in triumph while continuing to hold her foot down on her defeated adversary's crushed throat , making a clear statement, SHE is the superior woman.
Before we exit the ring to go to her place for victory sex,
she peels off the shit stained panties of her kill. She will hang them on the wall along with all
her many other kill trophies.
Eventually the shit smell will dry up and go away, but for
now it will linger as a pungent reminder of 25 year old catfighter Brigitte’s humiliating
failure to defeat a fresh faced bare foot 18 year old rookie.
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