Feinting Spells 3-3
Early October, That Year
“Crystal” Claire Zhang slumped onto the hard stool in her corner of the ring, her chest rising up and down, desperate for air. “Sit up,” her boyfriend chided, and she placed her green MMA gloves on her thighs for leverage as she straightened up and tried to fill her lungs. She'd been in tight spots and desperate situations before, but this had to be the worst night of her blossoming career. Or rather, her blossoming second career, moonlighting as an underground fighter.
“How do you feel?”
“Fine. A little tired. My ribs, hurt, I think. Maybe my abs? I'm fine.”
“How's your jaw?”
“A little sore. I know what an elbow feels like now” she tried to smile at her poor attempt at a joke.
“You sure you're-“
“I said I'm fine, Gunner. Help me win, please?”
“Keep her hands off you” Her boyfriend’s tone was so flat, so matter of fact. It irritated her.
“I know that, Gunner. How?” Claire hadn't meant to be so curt with him, but her tone stung nonetheless, and he ran his hand up across his forehead and through his short black hair before answering.
“She didn't check any kicks. Attack her legs. Go for light jabs and then kick her. Play it safe. it's only three rounds. You can do this, Bae.”
The 28 year old Chinese American woman stared hard at her boyfriend as he rinsed off her mouth guard. “You really think so?”
“I know it. You can do this, Crystal Claire.”
She blushed in spite of herself. It always sounded cute when he called her by her ring name. Gunner offered her more water and helpful advice but the concern was evident on his face. She couldn't blame him for being uncomfortable watching her lose the first round in dramatic fashion. Maybe this was why the whole significant other/trainer/cornerman combination was so seldom seen.
She caught him staring at her bare chest and abs she drank, a thin rivulet of clear water flowing down her face and mixing with the sweat accumulating on her neck and chest, running between her modest breasts and down her defined abs. It was flattering to know he still found her sexy even when she wasn’t winning. Gunner snapped back to attention when she pulled his face to hers and kissed him.
“Wow. What-“
“Let's say it's for luck. I could use some right now”
“Take her legs off, bae.”
As “Crystal” Claire rose for round 2 she couldn't help but reflect on her winding path here: her boyfriend of three years had dragged her to his MMA and kickboxing class and she'd reluctantly signed up. Then she'd taken a liking to it.
Then she'd gotten addicted to the feeling.
She could still remember his bewildered look when she told him she'd been thinking about having an amateur fight, and his wild eyed confusion when she'd asked the instructor at the gym about it, wider still when the instructor agreed to help her find a fight. She’d been nervous to step in the cage for real, but her boyfriend had sweat bullets. She swore he felt every punch she took more than she did. But she’d won her debut bout.
Then she'd gotten addicted to the feeling.
When a classmate at the gym said that his friend was paying well for women with MMA experience and looking to fight, she was skeptical. But Alan, or “Ally” as he'd asked her to call him, had been more real than she could have imagined. He paid, really well, for women to fight in a ring in the downstairs VIP section of his dance club somewhere in the San Gabriel Valley, and so every couple of Fridays Claire had shown up and rumbled with some other pretty face for 3 rounds or until one girl couldn't take it. The money went a loooong way towards paying for her student loans, and after two fights there she realized that something about fighting in a cage, just one on one, made her feel so confident, so capable. Maybe Gunner was on to something when he said that their sex was always better in the week after she fought. Eventually he’d come to accept that his mousey Asian girlfriend who worked in human resources was an underground cage fighter by night.
Then “Ally” had started offering bonuses and stipulations: extra money if she'd fight topless, and more if she could make the other woman quit or knock her out. A bonus for kissing the other woman, or taking off her clothes, or getting her visibly aroused, and a massive bonus if she could make her opponent climax during the fight, or knock her unconscious, or if she got herself off and still won.
Most of the incentives still paid a little bit if you were the one they were happening to, to keep the girls cooperative with each other. The goal was entertaining the club goers after all. Claire couldn't always deliver everything, but she’d tried, and she'd won more often than she lost against the other amateur women who showed to fight.
A lot more often.
The entire setup felt deeply sexist, and a little exploitative, and more than a little seedy, but she’d cut 15 years of student loans down to 10, and that number shrank with every fight. At this rate she'd be comfortably retired by 45. And the fights made her feel powerful, sexy,
Then she'd gotten addicted to the feeling.
The last time they’d spoken, in between discussions of where in China their respective families came from, Ally had offered her a different category of competition, with a big increase in money and opponent strength. No more fighting in a dance club; these fights took place in a dedicated, albeit arena, with private booths as well as general seating. It was a big stewp up and Claire had eagerly accepted. She'd be fighting some rowdy blonde who went by “Bliss” for her first outing…
Claire pressed her half finger gloves to her cheeks before adjusting the emerald velour short shorts covering her modest butt and slim thighs as the ref waved them together to start round 2.
She pumped a jab, but Bliss circled away. Her opponent was tall, busty, and tan, with a long mane of blonde hair and a vibrant tattoo covering her shoulder. She wore a low cut bikini bottom the color of the sky, or the ocean, with MMA gloves and ankle wraps to match. Claire lashed out with another jab that didn't find its mark, but her follow-up kick landed on the tanned white woman's leg with an audible slap as hard shin met soft calf. Next time her jab actually made contact, glancing off the buxom grappler’s jaw before she followed with a round, arcing kick to Bliss' thigh. The bigger woman grunted in response and then backed off.
“There you go, honey!” her boyfriend cheered from just outside the cage.
As they swirled together again, the blonde brawler dropped any pretense of staying at arm’s distance. She slapped away the first punch Claire threw at her and ducked just beneath the second. The budding fighter's pivoting low kick still thudded against her tan thigh, but Bliss pressed forward with a short left hook that caught Claire on the cheek as she tried to wind up another kick. The blow caught her by surprise and the perfectly tanned fighter pursued with a flurry of short strikes that sent Claire reeling. It was all she do not to turn tail and run for it.
She finally backed up enough to be out of range of those aquamarine gloves and took a breath. Her bare chest heaved as her lungs begged for air and Claire realized that she'd been holding her breath while she turtled up. The instructor at the gym frequently berated her for that but it was a nervous habit she’d struggled to excise. Now it was costing her precious oxygen. Bliss must have noticed it too because she pressed forward, slowly, hands open, her bright smile evident behind her mouthguard. “Crystal” backed away, panting nervously.
“Figured out how you want to lose yet?” Bliss sneered.
Claire’s only response was to step into a mighty roundhouse head kick that injured nothing except the air between them. Bliss had leapt back and out of the path of the Asian American fighter’s strike. She didn't even pursue as Claire swung all the way around and back into her stance
“Got any more in you?” Bliss taunted unabated. “If you’re done, why don't you lay down and let me make us both some money, kay? I promise you'll enjoy it” she purred.
“I came here to win” Claire fired back, punctuated by two jabs and another glancing leg kick.
“Well you're certainly not doing a very good job of that” the blonde deadpanned with an exaggerated shrug. “I mean, I thought we agreed after the first round that you weren't gonna ACTUALLY hurt me, but here you are trying again. It's totes adorbs. Must be that Chinese ingenuity.” She taunted.
“I'm going to beat you,” Claire snarled, “Just stay tuned!” She charged forward, pumping jabs and straights. One of them just missed the snotty blonde, and then Claire barely saw a clenched fist coming back at her, and then all she saw were stars.
Her eyes watered and she backed away like a wounded animal, hands up and open, until the cage wall caught her. This time she leaned against it, rested there, grabbed her shorts while the world danced and spun.
She couldn't remember the last time she was woozy like this.
Whoa.
She barely even noticed Bliss advancing, the feel of the white woman's fingers, chest, lips against her bare neck, chest, lips. The world slowed, thankfully, finally.
She heard the sound of heavy panting.
Is that coming from me?
Doubtful. Maybe? The twitch of electricity between her thighs was definitely her. Water and electricity weren’t supposed to mix, right? The erotic purrs, squeaks, and gasps might be coming from her, she wasn't quite sure. But those fingers along her hips, gliding over her suddenly stiff nipples were certainly not hers.
Crap.
So where had her hands wandered off to?
With a concerted effort to just. fucking. think, Claire Zhang roused herself, felt connected to her body again, found herself trapped by the taller fighter, who was simultaneously pressing Claire against the cage, sucking obscenely on her neck, and lightly pounding her side. When Bliss detected renewed movement from her stunned victim the violence restarted in earnest, light pattering replaced by measured fists thudding against her unguarded side. The blonde only broke the pattern once, to slam her forearm into Claire’s face and leave “Crystal” seeing stars. When Claire persisted in trying to push her away Bliss merely leaned harder against her, the obscene sound of her opponent sucking on her neck still loud in her ear. Claire discovered her right arm was trapped, constricted by her foe and was acutely aware of the perverse sense of excitement building between her thighs.
This is going poorly. Gotta do something.
She caught Bliss’ free arm with hers and half leaned, half pivoted until she was no longer flush against the cage. She stepped towards freedom, and Bliss, her leverage gone, broke the clinch.
The ref stepped between them as the blonde bent over to snatch her mouth guard off the canvas, and Claire found hers hanging halfway out of her mouth.
Damn. How long was I pressed against the cage?
Wow, remind me not to get punched in the face again…
“I told you it'd be less painful to just lay back and enjoy it. Just let me make us some money. But oh no, you had to play hero. How's it feel, Crystal?”
The dark haired woman merely clenched her teeth and resumed her stance in response.
“Oh well, that's what pride gets you. Can't say I didn't try. But we're gonna have fun kay?” She bit her bottom lip and squeezed her breasts playfully, “Whether you want to or not, cream puff.”
The ref moved away and ordered the fight to resume. Where Claire had sought to slow down the fight’s pace, Bliss insisted on harassing her, giving her no space to breathe or think. A round and a half of poor outcomes had sapped the athletic newcomer of the strength and conviction she'd need to impose her will on the fight. Instead she backed away around the cage, misplaced a short thrusting knee intended for her opponent’s liver, and ate several fistfuls of leather for her troubles.
She covered up, backed away, and felt Bliss' toned arms around her thighs, the blonde’s face and shoulder pushing into her. Then Claire lost contact with the ground, but only for an instant before Bliss reintroduced her to it. “Crystal” knew as soon as they landed in a heap that this was neither where nor how she'd win this fight. She tried to recall any of the grappling they'd done in class, what moves to use, or even the name of this position, but all she found was screaming chaos and frustration, first with the situation, and then with herself.
“Now lie still and I won't hit you, kay?” The busty blonde sounded almost cheerful. “Ally asked me if I could show the new girl a good time with her boyfriend watching.”
“Stop it; no, get off me,” came the defiant reply “Cause he asked me to knock out a big fake boobed blonde!” Claire brought her hands close to her body, tense and compact.
“There’s nothing fake about me, cream puff.” Bliss chuckled as she leaned her whole weight onto the downed woman and pressed her comparatively massive bosom into Claire's face. She lingered there, shook her glorious girls from side to side to belabor the point. Claire let out a muffled groan, and Bliss slid down her, pinned her down with an forearm instead.
The lascivious wrestler let her bright blue mouth guard fall onto Claire's pale chest and then dragged a pink tongue around the smaller fighter nipple, spiraling around it. She gave a sluttish purr and took the stiffened nub into her mouth, one hand exploring Claire's hip and thigh.
I, I want her. I want her to keep touching me…
Her own lewd, involuntary gasp roused Claire's from her lusty haze
If I don't do something now this is over. Just move! Move!
Her right hand crashed into Bliss’ jaw in a desperate heave, and the blonde yelped and recoiled. “Crystal” tried to extricate her body from the full mount but only made it halfway before Bliss climbed on top of her again, pinned her down, incensed and prepared to rain down hell on her...
Claire Zhang had never been so happy to hear an alarm go off…
“So that's it. We’re done here. Tell the ref or whatever and let's go home.” Gunner told his girlfriend, as she sat there in her corner of the cage, squeezing her thighs together.
“Wait what? No, I can't Gunner. I can still-. I have to-“
“What? You have to what? Go out there and make absolutely sure she knocks you unconscious? Or worse?” Her sturdy boyfriend and corner man grew more irate by the syllable. Claire thought he looked particularly sexy when he was stern or grumpy. Bliss had admittedly aroused her, and as he spoke she imagined Gunner taking her from behind right then and there, his firm hands gripping her hips and thighs. She wanted him very badly. She wondered if he knew.
“That's not it, I- I thought we were in this together? What happened to you supporting me, Gun?” She was woozy and more than a little horny, her left eye was beginning to bruise, and her sides ached, but she gave him as serious a look as she could muster while topless and sweaty and getting her ass kicked.
His deep sigh was manufactured almost entirely out of acquiescence. He still stared at her, specifically the lip shaped bruise on her neck and her apparent sexual agitation, but the lust in his eyes had been replaced by concern. He had only seen these mannerisms when she wanted sex. Whether she'd won or lost, he'd never seen her this spaced out, this aroused. But if she wouldn't quit he couldn't make her.
“Sure, bae. I support you. This is all you; including that giant hickey on your neck. I think we should call it a night.” He paused to gaze at his warrior girlfriend, stubborn life and fire returning in her gaze. “But if you’re certain you want to win, keep your hands up, circle to your left, throw low right kicks. When she closes the distance, short left hook, right knee. You have to hit her with everything you got, alright?”
She nodded in silent agreement then got off the stool and wrapped her arms around him. “Thanks, babe. Thanks for being here with me. You're awesome. I love you.”
“I love you too Claire, now go give her hell and come back in one piece, yeah?”
“Promise.” She replied as she released him and prepared for round 3. Ally had certainly upped the difficulty on her. She wondered how there could be such a gap between the women she’d fought once a month and this goddess of war he'd thrown her in the ring with tonight.
As long as I get paid it's ok. But I'm definitely hitting the gym harder after this.
Rebecca “Bliss” Meyers planned on living up to her ring name tonight. She hadn’t sat down during any of the breaks between rounds. It was a psychological ploy, to be sure, but she wasn't above intimidation tactics.
Alan had mentioned that tonight was this Asian girl’s first night fighting here, that she'd just come up through the cream puff ranks and wanted to make it on the big money circuit. She imagined he told her this hoping it would change her approach: don't hurt the girl too badly, make her want to come back and be a contender and make everyone some money. Rebecca understood why: Crystal was attractive, in a petite, slender, exotic kinda way. Her technique wasn’t bad, and she pursued with a hail of strikes when she thought she had an opening. Pity no one had really explained to her how grappling or clinching or takedowns worked.
Or that there were sharks in the water down here.
The Orange County, California native shrugged. Alan had been annoying recently, and if he complained she could play dumb about his instructions. She briefly considered if the lie she’d told about Alan ordering this beatdown would get back to him somehow, but decided it didn't matter. The only thing that mattered tonight was leaving this petite Asian girl on the mat, folded up and freshly fucked.
The bell for round 3 sounded and Rebecca stalked her prey.
Dinner time.
Bliss knew she’d won as soon as Crystal left her corner for round 3: tentative, clearly hurting, running on fumes and a stubborn self belief. She couldn't take that from the woman, but she could certainly rub her nose in its miserable futility.
“You figure out how you want to lose, cream puff?”
“Some other time. I’m winning tonight.”
“Wow, still holding on to that one, huh? Good for you. I think- you know what?” She asked facetiously, a new idea spreading across her mind. “Sure. If you want it that bad, hit me with your best shot. Show me you can do this. Put me away right now, cream puff. But if you can't get the job done, well…” Bliss’ face and gesture both suggested an exaggerated orgasm.
Is she serious? She wouldn't just… would she?
Claire gulped, visibly, but didn't make a move. Bliss studied the confusion in her eyes and repeated the offer, pointing at her chin and then dropping her hands limply by her bikini bottoms.
How cool would it be if I ACTUALLY knocked her out right now?
What should I hit her with?
God I'm tired.
Serious or not, I'm trying it.
Resolve momentarily overcame exhaustion for the budding fighter. She measured the distance between them. Crystal took two steps forward, lifted her right leg high, and pivoted into a mighty round kick aimed at a tan jawline.
The sound of the impact was audible throughout the small arena, and the crowd roared it's approval. Bliss staggered back, legs wobbly, one arm clutching her face, the other held out as meager defense.
Got you, you bitch!
The statuesque blonde wobbled, faltered, but didn't fall. Claire realized that she wasn't going to without a little more help. If only she could convince her aching body to run over there and finish the job. Her breaths were laborious, her movements pained.
Just a little more…
She trudged toward her wounded foe, hands cocked and ready to complete the massive upset. She pushed her punch more than threw it, and her straight right hand landed meekly on Bliss’ arm as much as her face. Claire huffed and puffed and threw a right hook, but Bliss absorbed that too.
So… fucking tired…
Claire Zhang reared up for another head kick, desperate to bring this to a close, only to find Bliss much closer than expected, hugging her.
“Let’s not, kay?”
The blonde pulled her into a sloppy clinch and hung there for a moment before folding her over and burying her knee somewhere beneath Claire's ribs. The daytime HR coordinator crumpled like a beach chair in a hurricane. Bliss didn't let go, merely shifted her grip, wrapping up both of Claire's legs and driving her to the mat.
The busty brawler gave a wayward glance in the direction of the other woman's corner and blew a kiss. Then she secured full mount, trapped a fading Crystal beneath her, and looked her eye to eye.
“Well, you tried. That fucking hurt, cream puff. Not bad. Next time, maybe try that earlier. Wait, L.O.L ‘next time.’ It's back to the cupcake leagues for you. Buh bye, k?”
“Bite me.” Claire managed between ragged breaths.
“If you insist!” came the jovial reply.
Claire tried desperately to dislodge the voluptuous wrestler, right before a flash of sensation ran through her chest. Then pressure, and… moisture? She sat up to find Bliss nibbling, licking, sucking obscenely on her nipple, looking at her like it was the most normal thing in the world. Bliss pushed her back flat against the mat and snaked her legs around Claire's. This woman was on top of her, in control of her, doing whatever she wanted.
Perhaps she had been for the entire fight, in one way or another.
And what she seemed to want now was sex. Or at least foreplay. Claire wasn't sure she didn't want that as well.
Regardless of what Claire Zhang wanted, her body didn't mind what was happening: Bliss’ hands rubbing her thighs, the sensual feeling of bare skin, of warmth pressed against her, loving her. The busty blonde licked and kissed her chest thoroughly before grabbing hold of Claire's wrists and pinning them above her head. Claire’s protests melted into immodest purrs and panting. Their eyes locked briefly, and Claire blushed when Bliss pressed their lips together, kissed her slowly, deeply. The dominant fighter only broke the kiss to reveal that the mouth guard in her mouth was Claire's, and then let it plop onto the beaten girl's chest.
Claire couldn't deny the allure and power of this woman, who took without asking, who plunged her into fevered heat and wetness. She felt Bliss' hips pushing against hers, faster, harder, more desperate, their mouths pressed together. She moaned loudly, bit her lip to stifle another unintelligible plea for Bliss to keep going.
Please…
She received her wordless affirmation when the grappler rolled off her, only partially, and let go of one of her wrists. Bliss lay beside her, trapping Claire’s arm and leg, and used her left hand to grab the wrist she'd just freed
The position guaranteed no escape even had Claire wanted to, but left Bliss' right arm free to wander down the length of Claire's supple, conquered body. She shivered as the hand slid down her destroyed abs and then tugged and then slid into the waistband of her emerald shorts.
“Mmm, someone’s excited. See how good it feels when you just let me get what I want?”
Claire nodded while her pulse quickened and her breaths became little more than shallow gasps chasing one another. Her hips rocked up and down as Bliss’ fingers danced for what felt like hours. Waves built up and crashed inside her, one after another. It was disorienting. It was exhilarating. It was magical.
And then with a long sigh and a final spasm, it was finished.
And so was she.
She languished there on the canvas, utterly spent and suddenly, unfathomably tired. Moving seemed impossible, so she lay there, nearly insensate. She saw hazy lights, and a face, or faces above her, and then a lazy, creeping sort of darkness consumed everything.
Claire Zhang had been sore and creaky and tired before. After class, after exercise, after a lazy day spent rolling around in bed with her boyfriend.
This was like all of that and none of that. This was deeper, heavier, this was-
The changing room?
Gunner stood up, ran his hands through his hair. Claire thought he looked awful. Distraught.
“Oh my god. You’re awake, thank God. I was worried, babe”
“Worried? Why?” She groaned.
Then he explained how the unmitigated calamity that was round 3 looked from his perspective.
“Wow, well when you put it like that…” she said as she managed a wry smile. But her lover wasn’t laughing. Instead his eyes shone with something like rage. He explained the crowd's reaction, how Bliss has claimed her new shorts as a trophy, how they'd gotten back here, how the physician would be there soon to check on her.
“Wow. That bad, huh?”
Her. Claire Zhang, HR dept by day, underground foxy fighter by night. The words tasted bitter, ironic now. And she was so very tired. She sat on the table in the small room and leaned against the wall. Spent like next month’s rent money.
There were voices outside the door of their room. She and Gunner exchanged glances. His concern made him look so much older. She didn't even want to consider how she looked right now.
When the commotion outside the door didn't go away, she noticed Gunner’s jaw clench as he left the room and closed the door behind him. Then there was more noise, shouting. His voice. Then women's voices. Someone yelled a name. “Rebecca.” Then a lot of yelling. And then nothing. And a deeper nothing, that she realized showed no signs of abating. She was tired. Sooo tired. And Claire Zhang let her exhaustion carry her off into a listless slumber once again….
#Writing #Series #FeintingSpells #Fiction #Action #Fight #MartialArts
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