Salt Forged Stories

Content Warning: NSFW – Explicit, consensual, competitive sex, violence, and nudity. All at the same time.

(It’s wet MMA in Beat, Prey Love. Come on now. Be fr.)

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“Hey, so just making sure: you've done this before, right, Snowbae?” Flor Ramirez asked, slamming her red MMA gloves together.

“Hell yeah; when soccer season is over, I scrap to keep in shape. It's also just fun as fuck.” Her opponent assured her. Hanna Bergstrom already held a demonstrable size advantage over her opponent. Flor needed to know what other disadvantages she was working with. She hadn't quite gotten used to knowing next to nothing about her opponent before their bout. She'd met Kathy at a local fight club weeks back, and Samantha a short time later, but Hanna was an unknown quantity: a tall, burly defender on their college's women's soccer team with icy blue eyes and a long braid of silver-blonde hair. Could she expect kicks from a soccer player? Or core strength and exceptional athleticism? The uncertainty pissed her off.

“I get it. Just, no complaints when you end up on my highlight reel. I'm not holding back just cause you're Samantha's friend.” Flor said. The college sophomore met her opponent's gaze and smiled. Her parents would be so disappointed in her right now. Good. If her dad wanted to control who, when, and how Flor fought, he shouldn't have asked her to put boxing on hold while she was away at college.

“I don't care if you hold back or not. You're still getting dunked on.” Hanna taunted. Between her pale complexion, white and blue outfit, and pale blonde hair, the Texan boxer understood why the curvy athlete went by 'Snowbae.' Her trendy, high cut bodysuit put her hard earned body on full display, especially her massive thighs and ass. Hanna paired her long-sleeved leotard with white and blue striped knee-high socks: Flor figured those were a nod to her day job as a student athlete on the soccer team. At least she'd cut the socks like martial arts instep guards; heels and toes exposed to provide better grip on the canvas or mats.

“Alright ladies.” Kathy explained from outside the cage. “Wet MMA. No surprises. Samantha just folded me like a three-ring binder, but no pressure to do anything that dramatic. Just have fun with it, and if either of you gets finished, especially wet, then that's a bonus. Literally; I will pay extra money if this ends with a stoppage, and more if it's wet. Speaking of 'big blonde.'”

“I'll be your referee.” The Amazonian blonde laughed, wiggling into a surprisingly snug striped shirt. “Three five-minute rounds. Let's get it.” Flor watched the tall collegiate wrestler pull her pink and blonde hair into a messy ponytail and look back and forth at her and her opponent. The tension was palpable and the former dry professional boxer relished the excitement that always preceded a fight: everyone's feelings, words, and posturing evaporated in the crucible of a fight. Erroneous theories discovered and discarded in favor of empirical evidence: the scientific method brought to life.

“Any questions?” Kathy asked.

“Just one,” the taciturn Latina shrugged. “If she's Snow, does that mean she's gonna get all wet when I melt her?” She suggestively flicked her tongue at the tall, Nordic woman.

“Oh you wish, pipsqueak. It's 'Snowbae' cause I knock bitches out cold!”

Kathy confirmed that the camera and mic were set up, and their makeshift referee sent them back to their corners of the MMA cage. She'd boxed across Texas, Mexico, and most recently California, under her government name, Flor Ramirez. Amateur, pro, unlicensed, didn't matter. She'd return to it soon enough. But this was MMA, not boxing, and Kathy had dreams of running a sexy 'wet' martial arts promotion, not a dry one.

The Texas-born Mexican-American smoothed out her own outfit, remembering the small battle she'd had with Kathy over how revealing or serious it should be. She'd played with several configurations of but couldn't find one that she and Kathy agreed on. The standout boxer envisioned an outfit close to her dry boxing gear; something to let her focus on fighting and not on securing her unfortunately endowed chest. The raunchy streamer insisted on exposing those same curves. They'd settled on a skimpy pair of black and red shorts that hugged her ass and left nothing to the imagination, and a matching crop top cut high enough and low enough to make a bikini seem tasteful.

Competitors traditionally used stage names for wet fights, so Flor Ramirez gave way to 'Rosa Rated R.'

Now she just needed to deliver sex and violence.

The bell rang and Snowbae met her in the middle of the cage, stance tight and grounded. The lights of the gym caught the woman's white and light blue clothes; at the right angle it was hard to tell where the clothes ended and her pale skin began. More than anything, though, the soccer standout looked strong. Her huge thighs and thick hips promised the kind of raw power that the brawny—though smaller—promising young boxer couldn't match, and the speed and athleticism to put it to use.

What the Texan felt as they met in the center of the ring wasn't fear. It was excitement, tempered with anxiety like carbon tempered iron into steel. The bigger woman had a predictable reach advantage, threatening punches as the two women sized each other up. They leaned and shifted at first, trading more looks than blows, until the bigger blonde charged. Rosa let old habits guide her, moving just far enough to evade each of Snow's hard, straight punches. Much less familiar was the thudding pain in her that followed. The national champion amateur boxer wasn't new to MMA, not anymore, but some habits were hard to change. Snowbae pushed the pace further now, first with a hard straight kick and then a wide hook. The first went wide, and Rosa treated the second like an invitation.

She fed the blonde woman two punches and dug another into her exposed side before slipping away to the side. They stalked each other again, jawing at each other.

“Were those supposed to hurt?” the curvy blonde taunted. Rosa caught herself admiring the woman's figure as they circled; the soccer player was sturdy and curvy, with toned legs and broad hips and persistent jiggle that made the college sophomore briefly consider what she'd feel like pinned beneath her as they kissed. Snowbae's outfit did nothing to dissuade those thoughts; instead her long sleeve leotard was cut high enough to bare her hips sides, nearly up to her ribs. Her parents had each been less than enthusiastic about their only daughter liking pretty women at least as much as any of her brothers did.

“If you ever land a punch, I'll tell you if it hurts or not.” Rosa shot back.

Snowbae took her taunt to heart, fists pumping as she pressed the lithe Latina striker. Rosa let old habits guide her: approach at an angle, measure her opponent's range and speed, and focus on her own strengths. Her father's gym had specialized in a sturdy, compact style that stressed close, tight punches and turning one's body to evade or minimize incoming punches and put oneself at the optimal position to fire back. It was infighting rather than her opponent's haphazard brawling, and she displayed that again when she took a punch on her shoulder and then snapped the big blonde's head back with a crisp one-two, fists flying like red streaks. Feeling herself, Rosa ended her own combo with a kick that slammed into the Nordic woman's calf.

Their first flashes of actions gradually put the boxer-turned MMA fighter at ease; the older, bigger woman wasn't some ringer brought in to outclass and humiliate her. Instead, Snowbae posed a more familiar, more surmountable kind of danger.

The next time they met, though, the blonde ate two of her punches and then returned fire with a hard right hand that Rosa would have caught on the inside of her boxing glove. But this was MMA, with tiny, four ounce gloves that covered so much less of her than her familiar boxing gloves did, and blunted much less of the other woman's power too. She felt Snowbae power as it forced her own glove back into her face.

Rosa swore and backed away, mad at herself for letting her excitement compromise her awareness. She simply couldn't treat wet MMA like dry boxing. Not for a half dozen different reasons. But even despite her momentary lapse, she felt increasingly certain that Snowbae was a puzzle she was going to solve. The bigger woman simply couldn't box with her, and the more she tried the more clear their difference became; Rosa Rated R might be smaller, but she knew where to stand and how to move to consistently win their boxing exchanges. Snowbae's power, and especially her kicks, remained dangerous, especially when Rosa stood too far to punch her or left her legs undefended, but nothing about Snowbae's style suggested a trained fighter. She was as she said she was: a top notch athlete fighting for the thrill in between soccer seasons. Her thick legs bit into Rosa's sides and thighs enough to keep her wary of them, but her strikes came a little too hard, and a little too wild, to land consistently.

They'd fought a half round without any sex or lewd elements at all, just two warriors with points to prove. Rosa liked it that way: kissing or touching were hot but what good was sex without foreplay? Towards the end of a hard fought round, though, the French-braided blonde reminded her Latina opponent of another phase she'd neglected: wrestling.

When Rosa dug two hard shots into her opponent's stomach, the bigger woman wrapped her up. In a boxing match, the referee would have broken them up and let Rosa resume picking her apart. But this was MMA and instead the blonde drove her back, back, back until the cold metal of the cage kissed her bare skin. Rosa winced trying suddenly to remember what wrestling she'd learned from Kathy and especially Samantha. Snowbae pressed her against the cage with modest effort and scored with a few thudding knees and elbows. She managed a wet half kiss on Rosa's neck before the boxer found a little space to fight back. But Rosa must have grabbed the wrong overhook—or was it underhook?—because the broad blonde tossed her to the canvas a few moments later.

“Come here, bitch!” Snowbae growled as they hit the canvas with a thud. Rosa Rated R caught herself opening her eyes and struggling against the bigger woman. The Texan college student escaped back to her feet for a moment but couldn't escape the thick arms wrapped around her waist or the brawny woman they belonged to. The soccer star's heavy bust squishing against Rosa's stomach reminded her of the fundamental dilemma with these sexy, erotic “wet” fights: spooning was less sexy when the woman was cuddling you with the intention of choking you unconscious. The big white woman on top of her had other things in mind, though, as she dug her knees into Rosa's thigh and then her abs. The two warriors rolled around there on the canvas, pushing and scrapping. Rosa knew enough to know that she didn't want to be down there wrestling and certainly didn't want to be under this woman. Samantha was a top notch wrestler and Kathy was some Jiu-Jitsu badass but Rosa was a boxer learning how to roll. Right now she just wanted to roll away.

“Dodge these punches, slut.” The blonde taunted, landing short, stubby punches on the woman half-trapped beneath her. From their tightly wrapped position, Snowbae couldn't generate much power, but a punch was a punch and the talented boxer was uninterested in absorbing any more of them than strictly necessary. But if she thought Snowbae's grounded punches hurt, being trapped between the woman's legs, even briefly, was torture. Snowbae squeezed Rosa's toned, hard abs between fearsome legs like a branch cut between garden shears. Rosa gasped as her breath caught in her throat as she flailed.

“Ooooh, someone's having a bad time.” Snowbae teased. Her bodysuit bared her pale, muscular hips, the same ones trying to bisect the Latina boxer. Rosa fought, pushed, twisted her way out of that predicament, and endured a little more rough treatment before finding the leverage to shove the bigger girl off of her. The college sophomore distinctly heard her opponent swear as Rosa finally escaped her grasp and retreated too far for the soccer player to lunge at.

The blue-eyed college junior didn't seem that much bigger than her. But as Rosa escaped back to her feet, she wondered how the woman could feel so damn heavy. Wrestling was a different kind of fight, and a skillset she certainly hadn't mastered yet.

“Come on, get up and take the rest of this ass kicking.” She gestured for her opponent to rise back to her feet and offered a smile devoid of kindness or mirth.

“Fuck off, twinkletoes.”

They engaged one more time before the bell, just long enough for Rosa to step into range, land a few punches, and get wrapped up by the bigger woman. The bell rang shortly afterwards, and Rosa held her ailing stomach

Rosa Rated R stood in her corner of a cold MMA cage, thankful for the minute's reprieve. Her brown skin glistened with sweat and wiped her short wavy hair from in front of her eyes. Her opponent was also breathing hard, pale face reddened. The view put a smug smile on her face; had the soccer star really gassed out after the first round? Snowbae was aptly named, and her pale complexion also highlighted each bruise she'd received. The woman was bigger and stronger, and a better wrestler, but Rosa meant to neutralize all of that. This cocky blonde wasn't a trained fighter. She was an athlete getting by. The thought comforted and amused her now.

“Hey!” Kathy yelled from outside the cage. “The mic's off, by the way. What the fuck? Where's my sexy hot girl grapples? This is just two hot college students fighting. Where's the fucking 'Love' in 'Beat, Prey, Love?'”

“I'm-” Rosa began.

“Blame Flor!” Snowbae interrupted, taking full advantage of Kathy's promise that they weren't being recorded. “Tell her to stop fucking running and square up like a real woman.”

“Lick my lips, meathead. Just cause you can't fight for shit doesn't mean I have to forget how to.” Rosa was increasingly incensed at her opponent. She'd thought they were having fun, but the blonde's gripes seemed real and personal.

“I'm trying to lick your lips, slut. Just hold still and lean back and I'll...”

“Keep talking. You're all talk. And I want you to keep talking when I'm digging an orgasm out of you.” They were done talking. Rosa resolved to let her hands finish this conversation, one way or another.

“You've got this hot, badass, butch lesbian energy.” Kathy had explained weeks ago as they sat in her dorm room. “Short wavy pixie cut? Dark lipstick? Muscles? Mmmmm, yessss, Miss.” Rosa distinctly remembered the heat in her face as Kathy came onto her, and the unfamiliarity of being pursued instead of pursuing someone. Rosa had spent most of her life trying to hide those curves, first from the parents who shamed her for them, and then from men and women alike who treated her like an object of lust.

“Take your top off, Rosa!” Kathy commanded from outside the cage.

“What?” Rosa yelled back, more hostile than she'd meant to sound. She reached for her top and found the cotton fabric had ridden up high enough to bare her bust.

“Your girls are out. Top's gotta come off. Those are the rules. Tell her, ref!”

Rosa's eyes briefly went wide as she recognized that neither Kathy nor Samantha were kidding. The towering blonde slugged and walked towards her slowly, and Rosa decided that disrobing felt better than being stripped. It took two tries to hook her thumbs under the elastic band of the crop top, but she managed it, and off it went. She tossed it at the ref as she instinctively covered her bust with her other arm. She couldn't fight like that—couldn't win like that—she corrected herself, but going topless on camera was still scandalous, if no longer strictly novel.

“Whoa! Why didn't anyone tell me Rosa was fucking stacked? Those things are huge.” Snowbae laughed. “I hope they taste as good as they look.”

“Shut up and fight, loser.” Rosa said. Kathy made banter seem so effortless, but the Texan boxer felt distinctly limited in that department

Fuck 'em all. Her tits were a big, bouncy burden to a woman who'd always wanted to box and had only recently realized that she also wanted to kiss cute girls. She hadn't fully embraced the attention they drew, the looks they attracted, but if baring her chest was the price to pay for putting a very intimate beating on this silver-haired wannabe alpha, then she'd pay it gladly.

The second round started with a bell and a pair of vicious smiles from two women each convinced victory was at hand.

This time, Rosa Rated R didn't offer her opponent the courtesy of a feeling out period. No staring and circling. The bigger woman threw two punches at her and the wide, arcing kick that had stung her last time. This time she stepped into it, trusting the few months of MMA her friends had put her through. Rosa steadied her own leg and bit down on her mouthguard. The clash of leg against shin hurt—she expected it to—but the silver haired brawler liked it even less than she did. She'd barely put her leg down before Rosa was on her, 4oz gloves flying like red comets. Snowbae's head snapped back before she gathered herself enough to strike back. When she did, Rosa had more punishment waiting for her. She stood deep inside the woman's personal space, always leaning or shifting or slipping into the empty spaces offered by the bigger woman's loose, undisciplined movements.

“Come on, keep up. You can't be that slow on the soccer field, right?”

Rosa increasingly where she wanted to, retreated only when it suited her, moving in and out of danger as she pleased. Snowbae reacted to their increasingly one sided dynamic in kind trying to lean further on her own durability and raw strength to regain momentum. Rosa felt her pulling for another takedown; Snowbae settled for a tight clinch when she couldn't take the smaller woman off her feet again. Their fight slowed now, more grunts than insults, more hips and shoulders than strikes. The bigger woman gradually drove her back, and Rosa changed tactics when she couldn't change her direction. Snowbae pressed a hard elbow into her face and followed up with a knee before the curvy boxer pivoted halfway free and banged punches into the pale student's ribs. They traded for a few seconds longer before Snowbae's poorly timed attempt to push the boxer down to the canvas let her escape entirely.

One woman swore, and the other smiled. The soccer player lunged and the boxer detonated a right hand on her chin. Snowbae stumbled and fell to a knee for an instant before scrambling to her feet. Rosa Rated R had three more punches cocked and ready for her. This flurry put the taller, curvy brawler on her back and left her with a choice. She blinked uncertainly and apparently didn't like either of her options.

Rosa recognized the indecision on the woman's face; a mixture of dread and frustration. The awareness that she was losing, but stuck between giving up and working to turn things around. The latter choice came with the increasing likelihood that she'd painfully turn 'losing' into 'lost.'

“I'm not grappling with you. Fuck that. Get up or give up, bitch. What about you asking how my tits taste? You give up on that already?” The boxer bounced on her toes, acutely aware of the heat suffusing her body. She wanted this, needed this. Her pulse quickened and thighs tensed and she watched her opponent with a new kind of interest. It could have been the cold air or the new lust but something had hardened her dark brown nipples. They felt sensitive when she ran her fingertips over them. She wanted to kiss this girl. She wanted to knock her out too.

The silver haired soccer player made her choice, pushing up to her feet. Rosa resolved to make her regret it.

Snowbae stood and marched forward before her opponent demonstrated the folly of that decision. Two punishing shots to the body changed her mind and sent her into full retreat, defending herself and backing away as Rosa poured on aggression like syrup on pancakes. Punches, kicks, punches, punches, each thrown with increasing certainty that this taller, thicker soccer player wasn't biding her time for a counterattack. She was spent, ailing and dazed. When Snowbae lumbered forward, Rosa let herself fall into a clinch, and then drone punches and knees into Snow's stomach. The taller woman curled like a wilting flower there against the catch, and Rosa smelled blood, and lust.

She spat out her own mouthpiece into her glove and nibbled on the big punching bag's neck and ear, driving lighter punches into the woman's bruise-splotched stomach for good measure.

“How's it feel being my bitch?” Rosa asked.

Snowbae produced a weak, mumbled expletive, and Rosa kissed her hard before she mustered any further response. The fight

Their lips danced and locked and the Texan boxer suddenly felt like the prior round and a half had just been foreplay, negotiation of roles and boundaries. Snowbae just needed to be coaxed and convinced to be the little spoon in their pairing. Rosa was happy to oblige. The punches stopped when Snowbae did, and the woman sagged against the cage and sank deeper into Rosa's passionate kisses. She caressed her lover, hands tracing the curves of the woman's waist, lingering on the fullness of her powerful hips. A star of the varsity soccer team here bending to her whims, stifling moans as Rosa left purple-blue hickies on her neck and grabbed her thick hips like plundered treasure.

In front of her, possibilities danced through Rosa’s head: an orgasm would end the fight as well as any submission or knockout would, but whose orgasm? Did she want to use this woman to get off? Or leave her opponent a whimpering mess?

The former was too tantalizing to ignore.

“Get me off.” She whispered into Snow's ear.

“Wh-what? The woozy brawler asked, hands resting lightly on her conqueror's hips.

“You lost. I'm horny. Take a hint, loser.” Rosa explained, less a suggestion than a demand as she tugged on the woman's silvery French braid for further emphasis. The bigger gal took the hint—nodding, blushing, and finally burying—her face into Rosa's heaving breasts. The college sophomore moaned immodestly at the sensation of sweaty, hot face pressed against her steamy breasts. The tongue on her nipple further stoked her fire, and she let the soccer star linger there for a moment before urging her further south. The woozy woman's tongue traced a sticky trail of saliva down Rosa's toned abs before she buried her face into the boxer's steamy, arousal soaked shorts.

The Latina boxer purred but the face between her thighs wasn't providing the sensation she needed. Her shorts were just thick enough to complicate her own orgasm, and she resolved to adjust her outfit accordingly. For now though, she wanted to come more than she wanted anything else, and this platinum-blonde punching bag was her ticket to bliss. She cupped the back of Snowbae's head with one red MMA glove and pressed her hips forward, trapping the woman between her steamy sex and the cage. The bigger woman's tongue pressed against her needy clit and Rosa let her hips take her home, grinding hard against the conquered brawler.

Rosa spent a minute riding her way to victory, chasing waves of pleasure that drew closer with each panting breath and each new stroke of tongue against clit, only relenting after she'd reached her bliss. She shuddered and moaned, climaxing in waves of pleasure that buckled her knees and left her gasping and steamy. The world popped back into place as she finally opened her eyes and found Kathy standing outside the cage, grinning madly.

“Wh-what?”

“Ohhhh mmmmy gaaawwwwwwd that's sooooo fucking hot.” Kathy explained breathlessly. “I wanna be next. Fuck.” The Asian-American woman stared up at her with an expression that made Rosa Rated R wonder if the sexy streamer meant 'next opponent' or 'next girl you face fuck.' She didn't dare ask. Instead, the Tejano striker backed away on shaky legs, finally beholding the woman she'd beaten and used. Snowbae looked up at her from her seat on the canvas, propped up against the wall of the cage, fight beaten and fucked out of her. Her lightly bruised face was slick with moisture, and the victorious boxer bit her lip at the lewd realization that that wasn’t just sweat glistening on her face The pair of warriors locked eyes before Rosa advanced and offered a hand up.

“Good fight. That was fun,” She said.

“Y-yeah.” Snowbae muttered, pointedly ignoring Rosa's help as she rose shakily. Samantha, as if remembering that she was the closest thing they had to a referee, helped both women to the center of the ring, facing them both towards the camera as she held one of each fighter's hands.

“Winner, Rosa Rated R!” The tall blonde announced, lifting the sophomore's hand into the air.

The standout boxer hadn't had a victory announced to zero fanfare in quite some time. It felt weird to not have a crowd to look out over, or applause to bathe in. She turned and hugged her opponent; she could still do that even in an empty gym, but the silver haired soccer player might as well have been stone for as much as she returned the effort. She stood stiff and awkward and Rosa released her quickly. “Good job. You put up a good fight.” She offered, slightly frustrated when Snowbae refused to make eye contact with her.

“Alright, Kathy, we done filming and fighting? Cameras off? What comes next?” Flor asked, ready to stop being a fighter for now.

“Actually? I 'm glad you asked,” Kathy grinned up at her. “I have some ideas...”

#Writing #NSFW #Series #Commission #BeatPreyLove #BPL #Fiction #Action #Sex #Fight #MartialArts #MMA

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