My wife and I sat side by side on a cushiony loveseat in front of our computer camera. The wireless keyboard and mouse was on my lap and the split screen filled our wall screen. Half the screen was blank; the other half focused on us, particularly on my beautiful hot bitch of a wife. Tabitha displayed her beach blonde, blue-eyed, athletic 28 year-old gym rat. You couldn’t tell she was a Mom of three from her round naturally firm 38c boobs and flat muscled tight belly. Her long muscular legs extended uncrossed so you could see her white panty under her short blue spandex skirt. A blue boob tube just covered her mounds. How on earth did I end up with her?
Long story short: as a college freshman on spring-break in Florida I climbed up on a fourth story railing in a drunken attempt to dive into a pool. Before I could do the stupid deed, the railing gave way and I just managed to hit the pool brushing the side with my right shoulder. Eight months later I got out of the hospital with a ten million dollar settlement from the hotel. You got to love the legal system. I say legal because to call it justice would be to risk the wrath of the gods.
Anyway, with my sports scholarship ruined and money in the bank I saw no reason to waste time in college. Instead I devoted my life to fucking and managing my money and it turned out I was pretty good or lucky with both. As I said, long story short, I met and married a hot, kinky woman who appreciated my big wallet and ever-ready cock that came with it. As a bonus her freaky fetish dovetailed with mine perfectly.
Tabitha had recovered fully from her last birth and wanted to let her freak flag fly again even while still nursing the youngest. Of course being pregnant had not stopped her flying that flag during her second pregnancy. Someone offered her a prize fight in England winner’s purse 500k pounds and loser purse 100k pounds plus standby medical attention. So far I’ve managed to increase my nest egg making more money in the financial markets than she spends in her market. But money is money and that kind of money is as we used to say, “Fuck you, monkey.”
She’s never needed money to fight, but in this case she and her opponent were six months pregnant and this was someone else’s fetish. The idea got her hot and the money was as good as anyone was going to pay for anything of that type. So we got on a plane, flew to London, took a limo to an estate and fist fought another six-month pregnant woman to a knockout finish 19th century rules: no time limit rounds, fists holding gold coins, one minute breaks between knock downs, fight to when one woman had dropped the coins from both her fists, and wearing nothing but stockings with ties. Tabitha went down twice and took a terrible beating, but she was the only one standing when it ended. And luckily all four participants survived. But no more about that as it still makes me cringe and recite the refrain: “I know there is no heaven and pray there is no hell.”
Finally the other half screen came on. Looking back smiling was a dignified looking brown man with an incredible grey-black mustache and goatee. Beside him was a young all too innocent looking young woman with downcast eyes. I felt Tabitha’s disappointment. She had been in too many fights where the other woman was just there for her man’s desire and gave up as soon as Tabitha started to torture her.
The man said gently, “Gita.”
The girl looked up and then stood to display herself. I already knew from his contact that she stood 5’6’’, four inches shorter than Tabitha, and weighed 140 pounds, five pounds heavier than Tabitha. Even standing and looking proudly she looked too innocent for this business. She had lustrous black hair cut almost like shaggy pageboy, framing a round beautiful face with dark eyes, heavy eye brows and perfectly formed lush lips. She was a dark brown beauty out of some Indian epic poem. But even more striking was her soft body, toned but none of Tabitha’s hardness. A firm but round bare belly peaked over off the hip hugging silken lime green harem pants. Shadows fell from a green scarf wrap that somehow held up her dark brown 36E boobs, so round they looked like balloons. I checked her belly for signs of stretch marks or weakness from her recent birth, but other than the round softness which was feminine, nada.
Tabitha’s deepened sex tone growled, “Even if she can’t fight I want her. I’ll milk those ugly fat bags dry and then beat them flat.”
The girl’s dark eyes flashed. “I can fight, skinny bitch.”
She had a posh English accent like her man.
He said, “We know the rules you like and very much want to meet you under those terms. My wife knows you have fought six opponents in this club that way and won five fights. She knows you like to make other women scream and beg. She knows you like to hurt them deep and humiliate them until they can no longer summons up the will to fight on. And then she knows you and your husband use them as sex slaves for as long as the rules permit. We have sought out their contacts and found three of them have left the club, perhaps broken forever from our thing. She knows all this and it excites her, more than you can imagine.”
The dark skinned beauty pulled down her pants revealing a full black bush. She spread it with her fingers revealing a large dark clit hood protruding between thick, full pussy lips that easily out matched Tabitha’s waxed pussy and pink clit hood. Tabitha immediately stood and pulled up her skirt and pulled aside her thong to should four fingers inside herself roughly.
“If you fight by my rules I’ll make that monkey clit and pig pussy bleed and cum at the same time.”
“White cunt, I will break you and leave you swimming in our juices. You will serve me in every way.”
The man smiled, “I appreciate your concern that my young mistress might not be able to give your honored wife a match, but she is quite savage, a true Kali incarnate. I believe you’re wife will have all she wants and much more.”
Suddenly concerned I reminded him, “This is not a mix martial arts match. No bone-breaking or joint locks except for momentary immobilization so the soft tissues can be punished. No choking, no attacks to the face, no biting and no purposeful maiming.”
“Yes yes of course, your rules are only marginally different from those we have used in England. We favor the concentration and prolongation of the agony. She loves the domination and humiliation of her opponent. Rest assured all is agreed. Let us submit our mutual agreement to the Dark Net Amazons and let the DNA make the arrangements.”
I nodded. His window went black. I sent the passwords and agreement to the Dark Net Amazons Matchmaker chat box. Our schedule was open. So a match would be made on DNA’s time and that of young woman, Gita.
Tabitha was worked up and wanted to watch one of the Dark Net Amazon matches. As long as she fought once a year and submitted the tape for review we had the rights to be a member of the club. If the tape was approved and used in the data base then we also got to view one fight per month.
Now I could have paid the membership fee and for each level of membership gotten different viewing rights. But I’m well aware I have no skills or training and if I piss away my windfall like some Lotto winner from the trailer park I’ll be without a wife or a big screen television to watch a savage catfight on.
The fight she had selected was a four woman fight, two mother daughter teams in a tag team last woman standing type battle. Not for the first time I wished I could record it. Somehow, DNA was able to scramble transmissions and prevent computer saves and even recording from the screen by another camera. It was frustrating, but actually insured our own privacy. And much of what happened in the club was illegal and even viewing some of the darker areas was probably illegal, especially the family fights. I had a rule for Tabitha’s viewing choices, no one under the local legal age and our own daughters were never to know what Mommy got up to in between birthday parties and taking them to dance class. I suspected she would educate them if I didn’t forbid it early and often.
And three weeks later we entered a working warehouse wearing business casual and proceeded through stacks to a security area, entered the key code, and passed within. Two more doors and we left the valuables storage areas and entered one of the DNA’s arenas.
The fighting area was about ten by ten padded from floor to ceiling in thick wide stain resistant materials. Three walls were solid and the fourth, blocking a small viewing area was cordoned off by a sturdy net. A tracking camera and bright lights hung from the ceiling. Each corner contained recessed cameras. Someone else held the controls and would do the editing.
Two women would serve in arena referees and a third stood in the viewing area with me and my compatriot, who said his name was Rajeev, or Raj for short. Dani was the judge, the third vote on any dispute and the mistress of the time clock and boss of us all. Unlike some fights, particularly those overseas there were no paying observers on site, one site had been busted a year earlier and the jackal press had hounded the audience and their families forever. They had used uncover agents as fans, so our group stopped public fights and added a charge to the membership fee.
He and I wore robes and I assume he had taken the same drugs with the four hour warning. My hard-on was apparent as was his. We would be one of our women’s chief tool of brutalization should she force her opponent to call for a break before the end of a five minute round. My instructions were to bring in a padded bench and my wife’s favorite micro-studded abrasive strap-on dildo should she be in position to use it. Our women sat silently on opposite ends of the room glaring at each other.
There were no preliminaries. The Judge called for the women to enter the arena. The referees unhooked the net from opposite sides of the room. The women shed their robes and entered the arena nude, each guided by her own referee, clothed in traditional stripped shirt and black leggings, barefoot since shoes tended to get messed up here. After confirming their nails were trimmed and unadulterated, they placed the women in the traditional first round starting position, left hand on the back of the head, right palm resting on the left breast. The second round would have hands reversed. The third and fourth round would replace the breast with the crotch and so on. Fifth and sixth round would used breast and crotch. The first six rounds started standing. Beginning in the seventh they would start kneeling with hand placement recycling from the first. If both were still able to fight at the thirteenth they would begin back to back on their knees from then on.
Both women tensed, glaring eye to eye, nostrils flaring, sweat already dotting their skin, you could feel the hatred and terror rising from both, adrenaline would be coursing through their bloodstreams. This was the moment before the pain intruded on the need and they could imagine that they would enjoy the fruits of victory, fully with no exhaustion or lingering agony of their own. This was the moment before they began to pay the price of their fantasy.
The Judge set her stop watch and shouted, “Fight!”
I’ve seen Tabitha move so fast that she gained a winning advantage in the first seconds. A lot of women will jerk the hair, crush the breast and go for a knee to the pussy. Tabitha developed a plan for that. As soon as she heard “fight” she sank her fingers into the fat brown breast, angling her thumb up and under the dark brown swollen nipple and pushing upwards trying to lift Gita by the breast as she pushed forward toes digging into the mat. Gita had tried the knee to the pussy and had her weight only on one foot. Her knee bounced off my wife’s hard thigh as she had already pushed forward. Often a girl ended up on her back from the initial off balance moment, but the Indian girl back pedaled cursing with each staggering step till she thudded hard against the wall.
As soon as they hit the wall, Tabitha had her left foot extended behind her and her right knee slammed into Gita’s glossy hairy black pussy. Gita grunted and called my wife a cunt with that posh English accent which in other circumstances would have made me laugh. Tabitha tried the knee a second time but was blocked by the Indian’s thigh. Tabitha let go of the mauled breast and dropped her right hand down, made a fist and hammered the Indian’s belly getting the left quarter right inside the hip. Gita groaned and cursed again. I noticed her dark swollen nipple was glossy and wet; she was already beginning to leak.
Trapped by my wife’s body, Gita let go of my wife’s breast and grabbed her chin, twisting her head using the hair and the chin. Despite four more belly busters, she forced Tabitha to slide to the side just enough to escape from the wall. She didn’t retreat; instead she kicked hard to the back of Tabitha’s left thigh and bounced like a Thai fighter. She moved in and hammered Tabitha’s lower belly with both fists, and then moved out taking a forearm across both her fat boobs. Her next kick got blocked by my wife’s shin. She had learned to fight like this defensively after a terrible beating at the hands of a professional kick boxer who had used our rules and still turned it into a striking match.
As soon as her kick was blocked and she was off balance, Tabitha snapped her instep up and cracked the brown woman’s pussy again. This time Gita did more than groan. She doubled forward. Tabatha stepped forward, hooking her left arm over the woman’s shoulder and hooking her left arm. Then her right knee came up and set those huge hanging brown globes bouncing. The next knee got her in the belly. I thought would stop the tough bitch, but she rammed forward under Tabitha’s tits and drove her hard back into the wall where they had just been. Gita held on and endured elbows to the back and punches to the side. Suddenly my wife screamed. She twisted and retreated along the padded wall. I looked just in time to see Gita’s four brown fingers slide out of my wife’s pussy.
Tabitha escaped, but suffered a front kick hard to her pussy which drove her backwards into the corner. She fell down on one knee, her left one. She started to stand, but Gita’s brown right foot slammed into her breast bone and then dragged across her left breast, compressing the 38C cone brutally. Then as Tabitha screamed in pain, her pink nipple erupted with a stream of milk that just shouldn’t come out of a human breast. She rolled to the side on all both knees and one hand as the other grabbed her crushed tit. I got ready to call for a break, remembering Tabitha’s warning that I should never call for a break as long as she was still able to scream.
Gita delivered a brutal punt kick to Tabitha’s belly. My wife gasped and rolled on one hand and knee bouncing off the back wall and falling just under Gita’s next stomp kick that might have ruptured my wife’s womb if it had hit. Instead it glanced off her ass. I glance at my watch. Four minutes were gone. If I called for a break Tabitha would take six minutes of raping. She was helpless. I got ready to scream. Gita lifted her right foot to stomp on Tabitha’s back, but instead my wife rolled into Gita’s left ankle, grabbed hold and kicked upward at the right leg as it came down. Gita’s arms flapped like a bird trying to keep her balance, but she fell hard on her ass. From the right camera angle I could see her face was shocked. Then it screwed into agony.
Tabitha, still red faced and maybe not breathing yet, rolled over Gita’s left leg up to her thigh, clamped her white legs shut on the extended left, and brutally grabbed the Indian’s fat pussy meat, clit included. She gripped, and pulled it outward, stretching the skin on Gita’s belly just a bid and then twisted. Now there is not that much give in the pussy, even on a fat woman, but there is enough to get a grip and hurt all the tissues in the sensitive area. Gita leaned forward, her fat tits flopping on Tabitha’s arms and shoulder. She grabbed for the white wrist and pulled it away after a lengthy struggle. She forgot about the left hand. The Indian took four white fingers in the dark brown slit without warning.
She screamed in agony and almost fell backwards. I looked at her man, but he merely watched the monitors and the fight with fascination. Gita endured the second assault and managed to pull that hand away too. They spent the last seconds tying each other up. The Judge called time and the two referees grabbed the women and slid them apart. As soon as they were apart both stopped struggling and collapsed on the mats gasping and moaning. My wife massaged her still weeping left boob, which was already swelling and darkening. Gita curled up so she could look at her clit and examine herself with both hands. Both women had surprised each other with the amount of pain they could dish out and absorb.
The referees provided water and towels. Both women rested by the net near either end of the room, where naturally their men went to coach. I had learned early on not to talk to my wife in a fight until she asked. Nothing made her madder than having me talk tactics, praise her, or even try to pump her up. I waited for two minutes as she regained her breath and used most of her water on the towel to cool her rapidly darkening left breast. The nipple was pinkish and engorged, wet and glistening. The brutal dragging kick had really blasted her, this was third or fourth round damage normally and then only in a brutal beating.
Finally she whispered, “Fucking monkey bitch almost took off my goddamn tit. It feels like a balloon, filling up getting hotter and solid. That fat-titted third world trash is going to pay. I got her cunt good. I’ll scoop it out.”
I ventured, “I almost called for a break.”
“I’ll call my own breaks if I need to. You just stay the fuck out of this and get ready to rape that bitch bloody after I make her beg. Before I’m done with her she’ll be bleeding from the nipples and cunt. That big clit is going to ache for a year and when we give her back to her keeper she won’t be able to fuck with the cunt or ass. You just fucking do what I say.”
Like I said, my wife is a bitch and I love it. Although at this point in most fights I knew she would be winning. And as I looked across the room at Gita and her deadly glaring dark eyes I could only imagine my wife screaming for hours as she was brutally fucked by the Indian couple. She was behind right now whether she knew it or not.
The five minute break done they came together, right hand on the back of the head and left hand on the right breast. Gita looked at Tabitha’s swelling, weeping left breast and promised her she would milk it flat as soon as they got started. Tabitha snarled something about Gita’s monkey clit and smelly cunt. The referees warned them to wait for it and then the Judge shouted “Fight!”
Tabitha tried her rapid push tactic again, but Gita was pushing back and they strained at each other, crushing right breasts and yanking hair. They exchanged knees to the thighs. They danced around slowly in a circle, both right breasts leaking as fingers gouged and probed. My wife’s thumb up and under the nipple flesh got the fat brown tit dripping and Gita cursing. Gita’s right hand snaked free from Tabitha’s blonde hair and grabbed for the damaged left breast. My wife had been waiting for this.
As soon as her hair was released she leapt forward and up hooking her thighs over Gita’s wide hips. The impact overbalanced Gita and the surefooted Indian finally fell backwards taking Tabitha down on top. They hit with mutual grunts. Tabitha was plastered to the brown woman’s body with her knees at the waist and her feet hooking the inside of the Indian’s thighs holding her legs apart and down. Tabitha kept mauling the right breast pushing it upward until my wife’s dripping left breast was under the big brown ball. Tabitha had moved her right hand to the Indian’s chin keeping her left cheek on the wet mat.
Gita bucked, but my wife road her well, slamming down her belly and cunt down on the Indian’s round soft belly after each bounce. Gita cursed in frustration and tried to push my wife upward by the right breast. It hurt, but Tabitha road that attempt as well. Gita used her right hand to pound my wife’s lower back, side and then tried to get to her damaged tit. But all she could do is bounce punches of my wife’s shielding left arm. Gita screamed loudly and then renewed her bucking. Obviously my wife had gotten her right nipple or some tube or milk sack really good or bad considering your point of view.
Gita stopped screaming and started cursing in Hindu I guess. Her man yelled back. She writhed on her back and suddenly let go of my wife’s right tit. Both hands went to Tabitha’s firm ass. Tabitha moved her right hand to the Indian’s left breast giving her a twin mauling. Gita’s strong fingers dug into my wife’s ass cheeks, spreading them and spreading them, giving me a full view of her waxed pussy, which was as usual glistening wet now, and her bleached puckered asshole. Gita’s questing brown fingers were trying for either entry point, but her arms weren’t long enough. Her man yelled more instructions. She cursed back in their shared language. He yelled more. She screamed as Tabitha managed to repeat whatever she had done to the right breast on the left one.
Gita thrust her pelvis up and dug her feet into the mat bouncing my wife’s ass up in the air. I immediately saw the danger, but there was no way to stop it. Gita’s right hand went between their glistening bellies and snagged a hold on the front of my wife’s pussy. And, even worse, her left hand got up and under the ass cheek from above. Now her right index finger went into my wife’s asshole.
My wife howled. She rose up and scrambled forward to escape the crotch mauling. Tabatha tried to regain control and brought her round ass down on the fat brown dribbling breasts, but Gita’s biceps and shoulders rippled as she thrust Tabitha forward. Tabitha managed to drag a knee across the right breast, but in the end she crawled off Gita in a hurry. She moaned as the brown fingers slipped from her ass and pussy.
Gita rolled over in a flash and got to her hands and knees pushing up to her knees just as Tabitha turned on her own knees. They started punching, rights and lefts to the obvious targets, the mutually swollen and leaking nipples, one set angry red and the other glistening darkening brown.
Splat! Thud! Grunt! Curse! Over and over again they pounded each other’s swollen glands. Tabitha’s swollen left squirted after a couple of punches, but all the breasts leaked with each impact. They pounded and pounded. It had turned into some kind of dual. My wife’s smaller white tits looked far worse for wear, swelling, coloring and changing shape. Gita’s fatter rounder brown bags showed less damage, but the look on her face and the sound of her moans seemed to indicate she might be taking the worst of it. In any case they were still on their knees punching when the second round came to an end.
Between rounds Tabitha actually asked for advice, “Nothing I do is getting to her. Do you see any weakness? What should I do to finish this? My left tit is throbbing and another hit and its going to start squirting blood and not milk. She’s fucking ruining me!”
“Work that fat worm of a clit. That might force her to bend over and free it, then so your back attack.”
She nodded in between gasps and mumbled, “Yep, just what I was going to do, it better fucking work.”
She didn’t finish the sentence with “or it’s your fault.” Like I said before, she’s a bitch on wheels but there are compensations, watching this being but one of them.
The third round started with them standing, left hand on right boob, right hand gripping the crotch lightly, thumb up, fingers under and squeezing lightly up. A lot of women broke away from this hold quickly, but I had a hunch these bitches would try to break each other woman to woman. I was not wrong.
At the start, both crushed the left breast, twisted and pinched, but the real work was down below. Gita penetrated Tabitha with four brown fingers to the knuckle, curled up against the pubic bone while digging her thumb into my wife’s rough, leathery clit hood. Tabitha cried out as expected, but she was ready for this torture. She used a different tactic. Rather than penetrate the Indian’s fat lips and gouge at her cunt, she pinched down with her thumb and grabbed the outside of Gita’s dark lipped sex. She pinched getting the clit, clit hood, and fat brown upper lips in a distended lump of sensitive flesh. She jerked up, out and twisted. And Gita howled with her head pitched back in reward.
I’ll give the tough brown woman her due. She stood up to it for two minutes and tried to gouge my wife’s cunt out. Both right tits were squirting and they danced in a tight circle as the mauling of tits seemed to be the force that turned them, Gita forcing my wife to step back in a circle. But by the end of two minutes of having her fat clit crushed, gouged, pinched, pulled and twisted she could not take any more. Tabitha had found the Indian’s weakness.
Gita let go of the tortured white tit and leaned forward using both her hands to wrench Tabitha’s offending right hand from her clit meat. It was a struggle and soon the Indian’s muscular sweat slick brown back was exposed and riding under my wife’s leaking tits. Tabitha’s left hand had let go of the Indian’s tit and rose above the back. As Gita pulled the offending right hand away, the left elbow came down between her shoulder blades three times, hammering her down to a ninety degree angle with her buckling legs.
My wife’s left hand grabbed the back of the woman’s hair and pushed her down further. As Gita concentrated both her hands on Tabitha’s bloody and cunt juice sticky right hand my wife brought her knee up repeatedly into Gita’s belly and tits. Gita staggered forward trying to escape despite my wife’s grip on her hair. This was the final thing Tabitha had waited for. She slung her left arm around Gita’s back and mounted her in a single leap, knees closed on the woman’s big round ass. The sudden weight and the woman’s position led directly to her hard face down impact on the mat.
Gita tried to intervene with her hands out, but as soon as Tabitha’s right hand was realized she used her free hands to jerk the Indian’s hands outward so she finished her descent tits and face first hard into the mat with Tabitha hard on her back. The impact was solid driving the air out the Indian’s longs. As the Indian gasped and tried to recover, Tabitha drove her left knee into the downed woman’s left shoulder. My wife’s white chin extended at an angle across the woman’s back pinning her with 135 pounds of weight.
Tabitha extended her right leg for balance, reached down and pulled the Indian’s right tit out into her armpit leaving a full third of the crushed and swollen orb rolling out like a squashed water balloon. I bit my lip expecting what came next. Tabitha brought her right knee into the tit and the woman’s armpit like it was an MMA match. She got in two shots and as the screaming woman tried to block it with her arm, left the second shot in place and used her knee to crush the exposed portion of the orb on the mat.
Gita howled. Her feet kicked wildly. She tried to press up with her hands, but the mat was wet and slick, with sweat and milk. She floundered like a fat fish out of water and my wife used her hard knee to roll the trapped E cup around like a baker might roll dough. At the four minute mark she screamed and passed out.
Her man finally yelled out that she needed a break. The referees pulled my wife off and she strutted around the mat not feeling he own injuries, not noting the swollen leaking bags on her chest or the sweat running blood on her inner thighs. The judge announced a five minute and forty second consequences round.
Tabitha directed me to lie down as the referees placed the sweaty Indian who was just beginning to wake on top of me. Tabitha had her wicked strap on, but first she inserted my cock into Gita’s bloody pussy from below. That woke the Indian girl and she started to struggle. I hugged her tight and began to fuck her. She whimpered and cried out, but then screamed as Tabitha penetrated her asshole with her strap-on. I squirted four minutes into the double penetration and stayed inside as my crazy bitch wife pounded away on the Indian’s round brown ass. The look on her face as she thrust kept me hard and scared me at the same time. She was a savage sexual sadistic goddess and I was her voyeur worshiper.
The judge called time and the referees pulled Tabitha out of the abused brown hole. Her start white dildo was as expected smeared and dripping. I rolled the nearly unconscious fighter off me and got up covered by both women’s fluids: sexual, perspiration, lactation and blood. We waited for five minutes, the length of recovery time allowed the loser. Theoretically Tabitha could have taken all ten minutes and forty seconds as rest, but she would have to be near death not to participate in the brutalization of her opponent.
Gita could not stand. Her man shrugged and said, “Well looks like I need to find another. You got her for one day plus two more since she didn’t start the fourth round. When you are done with her please drop her off at the DNA hospital. No need to communicate with me, I don’t care what happens after she’s released. I have no need for losers.”
My bitch wife chuckled. She would tell that to Gita over the next hellacious days over and over. There was no mercy in her cold heart. I on the other hand had plans to contact a friend who liked to keep a stable of girls like Gita. He had offered to buy my wife, not understanding that in our relationship Tabitha was the Queen Bee and I was just the happy Drone.
The End