The right cross that struck Mari Shimamoto was almost certainly the hardest punch that she’d ever taken in her entire life. Thrown with an exquisite form that served as the perfect expression of both its heavy-handed delivery and pinpoint accuracy, it carried with it all of the brutal force and destructive power of a wrecking ball. The Japanese beauty’s eyes went glassy at the moment of impact on her chin as her head was violently snapped back, and it was nothing short of a miracle that she wasn’t knocked out right then and there. Nonetheless, as the effects of the punch rippled out through the rest of her body, her legs quickly became unhinged as she was sent reeling across the ring into the ropes. Not so much as a full minute had passed since the start of the boxing match’s second round, but already the state of the fight was dreadfully dire for the Asian girl.
Even as Mari’s back hit the strands, her opponent was rapidly closing the distance between them. A flash of vibrant red hair pierced through the mental fog that hung over her senses – Mari strained to focus on the sight as she tried to clear her head, but her gaze was soon drawn instead to the onrush of bright red leather. With her stance shambolic and her guard out of place, she was wide open to take another bludgeoning right cross to the jaw that drove her even deeper butt-in-ropes. A left immediately followed and crashed into her ribs; yet another right came and hammered her on her puffy cheek. Mari finally managed to get her hands up to protect herself, but by now it seemed like a violent storm had opened up on her, one from which there was no place that she could escape. So ferocious was this attack that Mari was driven into turning halfway away from her foe, her right side pressed into the ropes while her left presented outwards, all the while pulling her gloves in tight against her head as she shielded herself the best that she could from this torrent of blows.
The onslaught briefly abated, but this moment was not meant as an offer of relief. Mari felt the redhead’s gloves palming and pushing at her exposed shoulder, turning her back around such that she was standing square against the ropes while face to face again with her foe. Roughhoused into this unfavorable position, she was quickly met by a stiff left hook to the beltline that brought a pained grimace to her face; a second such blow to her breadbasket caused her to groan aloud as she was left breathless. Mari started to tilt forward, and as she did a right uppercut parted its way between her gloves to clip her on the chin. The Japanese girl’s legs trembled once more as the harsh blow’s effects were felt, and as she stumbled off the ropes she threw her arms around those of the redhead for a desperate clinch.
Tying up her opponent brought Mari a much needed pause, but the respite was sure to be a brief and temporary one. As her sweaty and sore body pressed up against that of the redhead’s, the contrast between her own state of shabbiness and her foe’s seemingly undiminished condition couldn’t possibly have been more vivid. Mari could feel herself already starting to be outmuscled by the other woman, whose strength and determination seemed to practically be overflowing. Try though she might to hold back this tide, the looming inevitability of her circumstances hung over her ominously. By now, this story was shaping up to be an awfully familiar one for Mari.
It was only going to be a matter of time.
* * * *
The series of events that had brought Mari to this particular moment all began with a fateful encounter in a Los Angeles penthouse.
From the outset of her development as a fighter, Mari had distinguished herself as a highly promising young talent. Many an observer was impressed by her natural affinity for combat, both in the rapidity at which she honed her skillset and by the adroitness with which she wielded it. She appeared equally at home as a wrestler and as a boxer – that she could traverse multiple disciplines and still seemingly compete at a high level was no small feat. Beyond those qualities, Mari was also outwardly quite appealing – at 22 years of age, she was gifted with a magnificent figure of 5’4, 105 lbs, and a 36D bosom. Combined with a winning personality and a never-say-die attitude, she had all the makings of a formidable and popular competitor. After a short string of victories in her native Japan that were each won in dominant fashion, Mari’s backers decided to push her as a contender in the United States. Everything was looking up for Mari, and the prospects for the future of her career had never seemed better.
The American debut, however, failed to live up to those high hopes.
Mari’s opponent for the wrestling match was a former champion – a force to be reckoned with in her prime, but largely viewed as being past her glory days in the present. The Japanese girl did well throughout most of the bout, consistently asserting control over her foe and steadily breaking the older woman down. But at the very end of the match when victory seemed all but assured, Mari was doomed by an abrupt and decisive shift in fortunes. Suffering such an untimely upset was bad enough, but the manner in which she was defeated also exposed a critical shortcoming that she had as a fighter. With that, the opportunities for fights that could meaningfully advance her profile evaporated away; support from her management likewise vanished as energy and attention were redirected towards other more successful hopefuls. Mari had summarily been cast adrift.
But though circumstances seemed bleak, a lifeline did soon appear in the form of a new fight challenge. Oddly, it was not issued by anyone there in LA, but rather invited her to make for Las Vegas. What really caught Mari’s attention, however, was the name that was attached to the offer: Helen Parker. The 27 year-old Helen was about as high profile an opponent as one could find on the West Coast – at the uppermost apex of the fighting business for the last several years, she presently made up one half of a loose duumvirate that lorded over Vegas’ local scene. Even as a relative newcomer, Mari was well aware of the reputation that preceded the other woman, and it was hard not to be daunted by such a proposition.
Something seemed almost unreal about the situation, where someone of such a significant stature would come calling despite Mari not yet having truly made a name for herself. She knew that a prudent counsel would certainly have advised declining such a steep step up in opponent quality, but the idea of shying away from adversity was simply not true to her nature – she had always thought herself to be at her best when she was confronting and overcoming it. Taken together with the unusually good money on the table that Helen’s handlers were willing to put forth to make the match a reality, and it was hard not to think of it as being anything other than the opportunity of a lifetime. No further inducement need be given – the challenge would be accepted.
It altogether had been four weeks since Mari’s last match by the time that her fight versus Helen came around. A particular casino served as the latter’s seat of power, and one of its finest hotel suites would act as the venue for this encounter. The central room of this suite was spacious and had a ceiling two stories tall; largely teardrop in shape, the wider circular portion was laid out reminiscent of an amphitheatre of old as it flowed towards and converged upon an enormous bay window that overlooked the bustling nightscape of the Strip. Immediately in front of this window was an area about the size of a modest bedroom that was raised several steps above the rest of the room’s level, and furnished for the occasion with a large bed. The decor had a sort of vintage feel to it that placed its opulence front and center in the mind’s eye; taken together with the well-to-do patronage that had been assembled to observe the occasion, the entire scene conveyed a sense of grandeur that seemed to signify the great import of what was about to transpire.
Mari admittedly had felt a bit in awe of the scene being presented when she stepped out of her adjoined dressing room and beheld the brightly-lit suite for the first time. But as her appraisal of the room gravitated naturally in the direction of the window, she had taken notice of the fighting area that lay before it. There was something about the way it was dressed that was eerily familiar – from the color of that section’s carpet, to that of the bedsheet, to even the ornamental design of the bed’s headboard – all of it seemed to be a deliberate recreation of the setting to her last match.
And standing amidst it all had been Helen herself. At 5’5 and 110 lbs, with shoulder-length red hair and a 34D bust, the other woman bore an imposing presence that radiated out and cast its influence over all who were present. She had looked stunning in her red and black tiger-print bra and panties with matching miniskirt, so much so that it almost made Mari in her voluptuous red lace bra and panties seem paltry by comparison. And there was something about the way she had composed herself, with her hands on her hips and an almost sneering expression on her face – the level of confidence that was being exuded seemed to be truly without parallel.
Mari had steeled herself as she made her way from the back of the room and out past the audience to ascend alone to meet her foe. Her exuberant and charming persona that typified past outings was nowhere to be found – for this occasion, a frosty demeanor had been outwardly presented as her heart and mind were entirely dedicated towards the sole objective of achieving victory. On the other hand, Helen had maintained that smug smile of hers and barely seemed to show even an ounce of respect or concern regarding the Japanese girl. With all eyes in the room upon the pair as they stared each other down prefight, the contrast in attitudes couldn’t have been starker.
From there, the course of the fight could be broken down into a series of sequences:
Helen attacking rack at the outset:
As soon as the signal to begin had been given, the redhead had lunged forward and gone straight for the Japanese girl’s chest with her hands. Mari was a bit taken aback by the overtness of the incursion and had retreated as she brought her hands up to ward off the first two attempts. Helen was nothing if not persistent though, and on the third try she had found her way through to seize Mari’s breasts into her ill-intentioned clutches. Immediately, Mari had grimaced and gnashed her teeth as she felt the painful crush of clenching palms and the gouging bite of clawing fingers on her sizeable orbs; they were being squeezed right through her bra, which provided zero protection from the other woman’s depredations.
The first instinct Mari had was to pry Helen’s hands away. But when she had gone to grab the redhead’s wrists and tug on them, the intensity of the death grip on her tits rose sharply. As it became too much, Mari left forth an anguished shout that rang out loudly through the suite. The fingers encircling her breasts had relaxed and then quickly ratcheted back up, causing Mari’s expression to contort as physical anguish again flooded her senses; a repeat of this then compelled out yet another tortured howl. The redhead pushed on the Asian’s tits as she squeezed, and the latter’s backpedaling retreat in the direction of the bed had continued in earnest.
As Mari struggled to bear the pain, there had been a glimmer of clarity as her eyes met Helen’s. The redhead had been staring back at her with a gaze that gleamed of malevolent intent while her conceited smile curled into something even more dreadfully ominous. Much as Helen’s reputation had preceded her, at that moment it dawned on Mari that the same could be said for her own – Helen must’ve heard the account of Mari’s last fight and already known that a concerted assault on her breasts had been what had broken her. That sense of revelation was however immediately dispelled by another violent squeeze on those tits and by the accompanying surge of agony that had quickly overcome her.
Helen having her way on top:
The action had rapidly transitioned from the floor to the bed with the Asian pinned on her back and the redhead astride her on all fours. Helen had used one hand to pin down Mari’s arms and clamp them together at the wrist above her head; she meanwhile had been using her other hand to continue her ransacking of Mari’s bosom. By this point, both of the Japanese girl’s tits had been forced out of their bra cups – the redhead was going back and forth between them as it suited her and mauling each in turn.
Whether intentional or not, the two fighters had been posed on the bed such that the audience was afforded a full lengthwise view of their bodies as one worked the other over. Mari had not been given a say in the matter; in fact, there was very little she could have done to alter her circumstances. Helen at times had switched between assailing either full breast by yanking on it and squeezing, or by going after the nipples with pinches and twists. Mari’s anguish had rapidly escalated as these attacks piled up, and each scream that came out of her mouth sounded even more distraught than the last. She had kicked her heels against the mattress and writhed from side to side with what little freedom of movement she retained, but the futility of these efforts was emphasized by a harsh slap that cracked loudly against her left breast. Throughout the entire stretch, Helen’s face had remained fixed in a look of serene contentment, but there was no mistaking her feelings – just as the Asian’s distress was crescendoing, so too was the redhead’s cruel delight rising along with it in parallel.
Helen owning her foe from behind:
The fighters’ positions had shifted once again, this time bringing them both to the headboard of the bed. The redhead sat upright with her back against the wooden edifice; the Japanese girl was seated snugly in front as both women faced out into the audience. Helen had by now relieved Mari of her top and had wrapped her legs around her quarry’s hips tightly enough to secure her; her hands had worked their way under the arms to the front where they resumed their malevolent ravaging of the latter’s breasts.
Mari had long since been pushed past the point of stoicism. Her head lolled back against her foe’s shoulder and she had sobbed openly as her chest was forced to bear the abuse. She had grasped at the redhead’s wrists and pulled on them desperately, but the necessary means to break the other woman’s hold were completely lacking. She had twisted her body from side to side, but could not extricate herself from the entrapment of her opponent’s legs. And all the while, her tits were continuing to be clawed and squeezed and wrenched upon without any end in sight. Helen had seemed willing to keep it up all night if she so desired, driving home the depths of her pitilessness by giving the Japanese girl a disrespectful kiss on the cheek.
Eventually as the pain mounted further and further, Mari’s limit had finally been breached as the bitter words came out of her mouth: “Ya… Yame… Yamenasai… Give up… Give up…”
Helen pouring herself at the dregs:
The victorious redhead had gone and pinned the vanquished Asian at the foot of the bed, sitting astride the latter’s waist as she herself faced outward. The optics of this tableau already seemed like the perfect showcase of Helen in her apex, but she had just been getting started. Reaching behind her back, she had unclasped her bra and tossed the garment aside, baring her unblemished breasts for all to see. The reaction from the audience had left no doubt that they were entirely in her thrall, but Helen did not linger on the moment. Instead, she had lowered herself onto her foe and brought her chest down to envelop the Japanese girl’s face.
Mari had sniveled as the other woman’s tits descended upon her. Though she had employed the breast smother for her own benefit on several occasions past, never before had she had one imposed upon her. Her despair and her dread must have been palpable as the twin orbs pressed down upon her features, while the other woman’s hands and arms encircled her head to pull her in. Mari’s protests had been muffled by the ample flesh that molded itself to her mouth and nose; she had pushed and slapped at the other woman’s flanks in her final bid for freedom, but these efforts dwindled as air was denied to her. Consciousness had gradually slipped away from her over the course of what felt like a tortuous eternity, until at last she had finally been put to sleep.
That, quite frankly, should have been the end of that. The speed and the lopsidedness at which the fight was decided left very little room for doubt as to who the better woman was. Further driving the point home was Helen’s conduct in the aftermath – Mari only had the postfight write-ups to go off of, which detailed the other woman spending several long minutes luxuriating over her ragdolled form, posing atop of her, and putting her on display as a human trophy. Hardly any of these accounts gave Mari so much as a second thought, and her later chagrined observations on the perceived underhandedness of the redhead’s tactics did not elicit much of a response. The one person that did seem to take notice was Helen herself, who in a surprise turn appeared to be of a similar mind. A rematch was soon offered with assurances made that the redhead would more strictly adhere to wrestling conventions, along with a sizeable purse to sweeten the deal. Eager to both prove herself and avenge the defeat, Mari had readily agreed.
* * * *
Entwined arms and embraced bodies were extricated from one another as the referee stepped in to break up the clinch.
Wearing white trunks with red trim and red gloves, Mari had a haggard appearance about her that seemed unfitting for the relatively short amount of time that had elapsed in the match thus far. She had been unable to set the terms of the engagement, which instead had been dictated to her at the end of her opponent’s fists. The first round saw her get rocked repeatedly and made to taste the canvas once; with the second round well on its way at a similar trajectory, it seemed clear that she was fighting on borrowed time. Helen meanwhile looked fresh as a daisy in her purple trunks with white trim and red gloves, and there appeared to be no limit on how far she could carry the fight if she wanted. This disparity in their conditions was highlighted further by Helen’s expression as the two women raised their dukes to resume fighting. The redhead was bright-eyed and seemed to be burgeoning over with an eagerness to inflict harm; Mari could only wonder what her foe beheld as she stared back at the Asian.
Flat-footed, Mari shuffled to her right as she tried to circle her way back to the center of the ring, but Helen sidestepped with her to cut off the escape. Further impeding her was the redhead’s jab, which pistoned out regularly to keep her pinned down. The left-handed punch had played an outsized role thus far with its ramrod power, and that had not changed even here – Mari did her best to slip or block when Helen tried to connect with it, but eventually it was able to find its mark. As Mari’s head was knocked back once and then a second time, another blistering right came at her that she was just barely able to roll with as it caromed against her brow.
Escape appeared implausible. Shelling up similarly looked to be untenable. Mari tried again for another clinch, but she was rebuffed and rudely bodied back against the ropes. With seemingly no other option available, she now took the only one remaining and started to let her hands go. As she and her opponent reset, Mari jabbed repeatedly with her left at the other woman’s head – there wasn’t a whole lot of snap behind the punches as she pushed them out, but they at least seemed to hold Helen at bay for a brief second. Mari followed with a right hook to the jaw, but Helen timed it and leaned in to score with a withering left-right of her own to the Asian’s flanks. Helen reloaded and fired off a lead right that caught Mari on the mouth; Mari answered with an off-balance right hook that landed to the redhead’s cheek but lacked a comparable force behind it. The redhead was again the aggressor in the next exchange as the two traded left hooks; Mari was beaten to the follow-up punch as Helen’s overhand right bashed the side of her head and put her on her heels.
Mari managed to find her footing before her foe could pounce on her, and a tense moment passed as the two postured and measured one another. The Japanese girl made the first move and feinted left before launching into a right cross; the redhead responded a split second too late before committing to an identical right hand lead of her own. The timing advantage meant that Mari’s punch scored first, but though it landed precisely and carried decent force behind it to Helen’s chin, the latter seemed completely unfazed. Moments later, the redhead’s blow carried through and smashed brutally into Mari’s jaw, sending her staggering back into the ropes once more.
Her head was ringing. Her form was in shambles. Slumped against the strands, Mari was wide open and had nothing by which to bar her opponent from taking what she wanted. Those desires were soon realized as Helen advanced on her and swung with a sweeping right to the bustline. Mari screamed out loudly as the vicious blow smashed her right breast against her ribcage; a matching left crisscrossed into her left breast and yielded another anguished shout. Helen was dialed in now and strapping away at a deliberate pace with her heavy shots, heartlessly taking advantage of Mari’s vulnerable bosom – the latter could do little but cry out as the excruciating pain of each impact overloaded her senses. Her right tit was clubbed from the side by a left hook; her left took a plowing right cross squarely on the nipple; the left was rocked again by an uppercut that came up from underneath. Mari’s shouts grew increasingly distraught with each agonizing punch until she could finally endure no more of it; her legs buckled beneath her as she sank to the canvas.
Down on her haunches, the Japanese girl was trying her best to blink back her tears. She had one hand outstretched in front of her on the mat for support while the other reflexively cradled her savaged rack. From all directions around her, she could hear the raucous exultations of the audience, whipped up into a frenzy by the course of the fight’s action. And standing towering over her was Helen – though the redhead’s demeanor was outwardly calm and collected, the lust burning inside of her for the decisive finish was betrayed by her gleaming eyes and wicked smile.
Mari recognized it as she watched the other woman turn away and head towards the neutral corner. Even if she managed to beat the count, the most trying stretch of the fight was still yet awaiting her.
* * * *
The rematch with Helen was three weeks after their initial encounter. Mari had returned to the same casino as before, but the fight that night was to be held in an altogether different hotel suite. This one also possessed a two-story main room, rectangularly shaped and about twice as long as it was wide, with a mezzanine view flanking it on two sides from the upper floor. The exterior-facing wall was highlighted by an expansive window that boasted a breathtaking panorama of the nocturnal city sprawl. While no less upscale than its counterpart, this suite traded the more ostentatious trappings of the former for a more minimalistically elegant profile. The lights had been turned down save for a bright bank directed to spotlight the center of the room – this had been cordoned out by several long sofas into a square sixteen feet per side with a thick rug placed in the middle to cover the hardwood floor. It was within this space that the two women were to once again do battle with one another.
As they faced off against one another in their arena, neither Mari nor Helen had spoken a word to each other. However, their body language and their facial expressions were more than sufficient for communicating everything that needed to be said. Mari had smoldered as she stood in her purple and lavender bikini – just as surely as she was a ravishing sight to behold in all her beauty, so too must she have been fearsome to glimpse with all of her pent-up fury and enmity towards her foe. But Helen was no shrinking violet and did not concede an inch in the competition for prefight presence – she held her ground firmly and made clear via her imperious demeanor that she was a force to be reckoned with.
Mari had found it irksome as she glared at Helen to see the other woman’s same haughty smile from the previous match being thrown back against her – she knew that she was being looked down upon by the redhead, who seemed even more conceited than ever before. Similar things could be said for Helen’s choice of fighting attire – Mari couldn’t be sure if the red string bikini her opponent sported was a coincidence or a deliberate move to appropriate her color palette from their last meeting, but either way she hadn’t found it the least bit endearing. Accounts sorely were in need of being settled, a sentiment that grew with every second that continued to pass during this face off.
Just like the prior encounter, the fight could be framed as a collection of snapshots in the heat of the moment:
Contesting superiority on the floor:
Mari made a good accounting of herself in the early going as she and her opponent took the fight to the ground. An aggressive opening had enabled her to secure a headlock on the redhead while they were side by side, and from there she tried to transition herself to a place such that she could bear down with the weight of her body across the chest of the other woman. Helen hardly took it lying down though – she had pushed and pried with her hands up top as she tried to break the hold, while further below her two legs scissored one of Mari’s to stymie any maneuvering. The pair had been a squirming tangle of bodies as they grappled together and rolled back and forth, each woman striving to obtain a dominant position over the other.
Somewhere amid the fray as she managed to get on top of Helen, Mari had relinquished the headlock and seized the redhead’s wrists. She had pushed them down towards the rug in an attempt to secure a pin, but a spirited thrash dislodged her and toppled her to the floor by her foe’s side. Mari had felt the other woman’s legs hike up and lock themselves around her waist; with some further exertions, the redhead was then able to break loose and extend her body out perpendicularly from the Japanese girl’s. Mari immediately had reached out and tried to regain control of Helen’s wrists, but was preempted by the other woman’s legs tightening around her midsection and squeezing forcefully. She had cringed at the intense discomfort; any notion of restraining the redhead disappeared as her hands instead went to pry at her opponent’s thighs. Helen meanwhile had been making her own adjustments as she sat up and planted both hands on the floor behind her; from there, she arched her back and poured it on with everything that she could put into the scissors. Mari had been compelled to howl as the hold afflicted her; it felt as if she was being split in half by her opponent’s thighs.
Quelling the opposition:
The momentum of the engagement had shifted considerably, and Mari was grimacing as she was being pressured from all sides. Lying on her back, her head had been elevated slightly off of the floor and held in an uncomfortable place by her opponent’s legs – these had been configured into a triangle with the right foot locked behind the left knee as they encircled her head and neck. Helen maintained a push-up position over her while oriented in the opposite direction, keeping both hands placed on the floor as she channeled her leg strength into the headscissors. Mari had scowled and groaned as an escalating succession of squeezes wicked away at her and wore her down – no amount of kicking her feet or pushing at her foe’s hips with her hands had seemed sufficient to break free from the hold that had ensnared her.
As she’d looked over her shoulder at the Asian, Helen grinned wickedly and brought one hand to the other woman’s chest. She pawed at Mari’s top and pulled down on its cups to expose the breasts that they’d contained. Mari had whined in protest as the redhead fondled one of the sizeable orbs and gave it a firm grope – no harm was done, but the message that this taunt sent was received loud and clear. Mari’s struggles intensified from there as she sought to wriggle her way free, but her efforts were promptly suppressed by another harsh tightening of Helen’s potent legs.
Picking her apart:
Mari was in a bad spot rolled onto her right side and fully stretched out. Behind her, Helen had knelt with both hands bracing against her flank and thigh – repeatedly rising up off of the floor, the redhead had been coming back down and driving her kneecap into the meat of the Japanese girl’s left thigh. Mari had wailed with each blunt trauma impact, but she was hardly in a place where she could deter her foe. Pushing Mari onto her stomach, Helen had next gone to work giving the right leg the same treatment. The steady drumbeat of harm continued form there, each hit answered in turn by a tortured howl in reciprocation.
Eventually, the assault on her quads was relented. After a brief pause, Mari had felt her bikini top being stripped off of her body as it was deposited onto the rug next to her; from the periphery of her vision, she’d caught sight of Helen’s top joining it shortly after in this discard pile. The next move by the redhead was to secure Mari’s wrists and tug her up backwards onto her knees; the other woman’s foot came down moments later and planted itself in between Mari’s shoulder blades. The opposing forces had then ratcheted up sharply as her arms were yanked backwards and her torso was pushed forward. Mari had thrown her head back and screamed as her joints were unbearably strained by the surfboard hold; to add insult to injury, her bared breasts were being thrust outward for all to see. Mari had tried her best to weather the pain and the ignominy, but both propositions were becoming increasingly difficult the longer that the hold persisted.
Putting her through the ringer:
Mari’s successive ordeals, each more punitive than the last, had stretched her to her limits. She had been able to think of little else as she sat at the center of the space, ensnared in her opponent’s latest connivance. Helen was reclined on the floor behind her – she had the redhead’s legs interlaced around her shoulders and crossed at the ankle behind her head, while her arms were being pulled backwards by the wrist. Mari had groaned as this lotus lock cranked on her neck and pushed her chin down towards her chest.
Mentally as well as physically, Mari was by this point dreadfully tired. It had been one hold after another from her foe, and there was no telling how many more the redhead had in store for her. Far less ambiguous though was Helen’s capacity for cruelty – that woman had conveyed in no uncertain terms that she relished every iota of misery that she could inflict upon the Japanese girl. It would have been far too easy for Mari to simply yield at this point, but she didn’t have it in her to quit – certainly not with the verbal submission from the prior match still hanging over her. The fight would carry on, leaving her at the mercy of her opponent’s whims.
Using up every last drop:
Mari was utterly spent as she lay on the floor. Scarcely could she recall any prior instance where she’d experienced exhaustion to such a comparable degree. Thus when she’d been taken by the ankle and dragged from the fighting space’s center to the sofa at the perimeter, there was no meaningful resistance that she was capable of offering. Mari had felt herself being raised off of the floor to a seated position, propped upright with her back against the furniture piece’s lower half; her opponent had then assumed a spot sitting behind her on the sofa proper. With that arrangement in place to her liking, Helen next secured her headscissors on her victim and had begun to squeeze away.
Mari had whined pitifully as she was subjected to the unforgiving hold. The serpentine coil of the redhead’s thighs felt particularly brutal as they had constricted around her throat; periodic flexes of the muscles in those shapely legs and expert usage of the available leverage had ramped up the crushing power being applied in short but devastating pulses. Mari had not been able to find the reserves to so much as reach up and pry her hands at Helen’s legs. Her attempts to twist or bridge out of the vice were similarly too feeble, all the more so as the scissorhold had persisted. Staring out into the suite, Mari had faintly discerned the enthusiastic reaction of the audience to the fight’s outcome – much like in the last match, they’d appeared to be captivated by the destruction that been wrought upon her by her vicious foe. But she hadn’t had long to dwell on this as spots formed in her eyes and darkness descended upon her.
Just like before at the end of the previous match, Helen had indulged herself with a postfight flaunting of her own supremacy. And once again, it was only after the fact that Mari learned the details of how it had come at her expense. Brought back in her unconscious state to the center of the fighting space, she had been subjected to a variety of prolonged sequences where the other woman posted atop of her in several different configurations. The report highlighted a few instances where Helen had gone out of her way to show off Mari’s sleeping face, holding the latter so that every one could get a good look at her insensate condition. Even without a firsthand recollection of what had transpired, Mari found it utterly galling to think of everything that the redhead had been able to do to her with that kind of free rein.
At this point, Mari could have cut her losses and moved on. She probably should have. However, Helen was soon sending out feelers for a third match, while her people made the most generous purse offering yet to try and coax an agreement. It seemed obvious by now that the redhead had taken a liking to her, and that there was some sort of personal enjoyment that was being derived from picking on her repeatedly. But while the notion of being used like this did not sit well with Mari, neither too did the idea of letting the bully have her way. For all of the hardships that she had encountered of late, Mari still believed that with enough perseverance and dedication, she would ultimately be able to prevail and deliver the other woman her much-deserved comeuppance.
Helen would agree to any type of fight that she was challenged to. Mari reflected at length on the two scraps they’d had to date, going over them again and again in her head as she tried to devise a plan of attack that she could take in another such encounter. But ultimately, she decided to go for a different approach and instead put forth that she and the other woman would face each other in a boxing match. Though Mari might’ve been outdone when it came to claws and to holds, she still had faith that her fists would be able to carry the day.
The match was set for three weeks hence and had been arranged to be held at one of the casino’s ballrooms. The venue was just as upscale in its stylings as those that had preceded it, and there in front of a respectably-sized audience, the two fighters would face each other for the third time.
* * * *
Mari summoned her courage and rallied to rise up off of the canvas. Her legs were wobbly, but they nonetheless were serviceable to hold her up as she bravely made it to her feet at the count of 8. The referee wiped off her gloves and then stepped back, giving the signal for the fight to continue.
Helen showed no respect or hesitancy as she marched forward and let loose with a lead right cross. Nothing was held back and the powerful punch could easily have taken Mari’s head off if it had landed; but even with her guard up to block it, the force of the impact was enough to buffet her backwards and put her into a retreat along the ring’s perimeter. The redhead kept after her and fired off a second cross as soon as she returned into range, this one succeeding in catching Mari on the mouth – the bashing force shook the latter and sent her reeling into the nearby corner with her opponent in hot pursuit.
The Japanese girl was in disarray as she fell back against the turnbuckle for support. A left hand from her foe reached in for her shoulder to prop her upright; in doing so, it pried apart her arms and exposed her for more harm. An overhand right now came through the opening and caromed off of Mari’s brow, followed by a second punch just like it; Helen’s left then joined the fray in the form of a hook to the jaw that swiveled her head sideways. The dreadful accumulation of punches taken compelled Mari to try and tie up with the other woman, but this was rejected by the redhead who bodied her back to where she’d been tapped. A short right to the midriff elicited a pained shout from Mari and made it abundantly clear that she would not be going anywhere.
A pair of powerful and compact blows that thudded against Mari’s ribs made her blurt out loudly as her composure finally started to crumble. A third shot to her stomach put an achy scowl on her face and bunched her up; as she drooped forward, a left uppercut parted her gloves and kicked her head back. Again Mari reached out and tried to clinch, and again she was rejected and shoved back into the corner. Helen’s left reached in once more to stack her up, and then the right soon followed in an overhand fashion to club her above the eye. This last punch almost had Mari out on her feet as she started to swoon – with it, she was bereft of any reprieve from the redheaded deluge that was about to open up on her once more.
Helen landed a brief flurry of punches to Mari’s tits, opportunistically sacking them just because she could. Mari’s anguished groans accompanied these blows as the pain racked her, but her protestations did little to sway her hardhearted foe. The redhead instead carried on with imposing herself as she threw a left hook to the body and an overhand right to the head. Mari was hobbled as the former left her breathless, while the pounding of the latter on her temple caused her legs to finally give way – she thus began a slow slide descending the entire length of the turnbuckle. Helen fetched one last mean-spirited left to Mari’s breast before firing off two insurance overhand rights which at last hammered the Japanese girl down to a seat on the canvas.
Mari was utterly spent. She was reclined back into the corner with her eyes half-lidded and her hands lying inert on the canvas. Even if her mind had been in the right place, her body lacked the wherewithal necessary to continue. She could dimly make out the roar of the crowd, a white noise cacophony surrounding her as it reveled in her demise. Somehow amidst it all though, a singular voice stood out and reached past Mari’s dulled senses to speak to her with absolute clarity – it belonged to the triumphant redheaded conqueress that loomed over her like a colossus.
“Aww, poor baby…” Helen crowed, “Better luck next time…”
Deep down, Mari knew the truth of the other woman’s words. There indeed was going to be a next time…
The End