Emma's last fight - Round 6 the end

[lowblow emma]

I’m rolling out of the ring, then running, topless, down the aisle, clutching my crotch, running as fast as I can, through the crowd, some cheering, others jeering, stumbling towards my dressing room, which never gets any closer. I know what is happening, this is my last fight, the end of my career.

I wake, naked, in a bed that is drenched in my sweat, and sit upright, the sheet stuck to my body. The same dream. The one I’ve had over and over for the last three years, since I became champion. Usually the night before a fight, like tonight.

So I know how my career will end, but not how – why am I topless, why am I running, why am I clutching my crotch? Nor when – no, I don’t know when, only that it will come, one day.

If only I had known it would be today. But what difference would it have made if I had, the end would have been the same.

 

[lowblow emma]

Emma Lighting, that’s my professional name, and this will be my ninth defence of my title. You know that this isn’t Queensbury Rules. No gloves and no area is off limits, although by common practice we don’t focus our attacks on the most sensitive areas, at least not until the fight is nearing its climax. There isn’t Rashambo. I’m slim but muscular, fit and fast, hence my name. My fighting kit – we all wear hipsters and tank top - is dark red (hipsters) and light blue (tank).

Right, now for the bit that fills the pages of my fan site. Large tits and thick labia, amply displayed through the soft fabric of my kit. Some claim that they can see my clit, but it is probably just a trick of the light. Blonde, shoulder length hair, natural blonde. Yes, in one of my early fights my shorts became dislodged. My opponent swore it was accidental, and it could have been, these things happen, but I just happened to be facing a bank of photographers at the time. I spun round, my shorts still over my thighs, and laid her out cold with one straight punch. Which is when the photographers snapped a series of shots of my ass – nicely rounded by firm, by the way.

My opponent – Tina the Ram. That’s what she looks like and how she fights. Black skin, and always kitted out in sparkling white, top and bottom. Stylish choice. Broad hips, prominent ass and strong thighs. Small tits, just a bump but huge nipples, which are the focus of her fan pages. Nothing visible at her crotch, small ass, really tight. Only flash was when her top got caught and came down. Like I said, no tits, big nipples. She’s taller, broader and has a longer reach than me, but she’s slower. She seems to have no tactical sense whatsoever, just uses her power and reach to bludgeon her opponents. I’m astonished she got as far as a challenge for my title. But I am not complacent, that is the way to defeat.

 

[lowblow emma]

Round 1

We touched knuckles and circled. I expected my opponent to move right in with a flurry of heavy punches. But she didn’t. I had to take the fight to her, she left me no option, and as the defending champion it was down to me to put up a fight.

I landed blow after blow, on her stomach, on her chin, occasionally on her tits, such as they are, but nothing below the belt. Good technical performance. She managed to back off sufficiently to reduce the impact for a lot of the blows, but they still had an impact, and a fair number landed on target and shook her. I was sure of that, I felt the impact and saw her eyes. They hurt her but each time she shot back a punch that rocked me back on my heels. And that was it. I was vulnerable at those moments, but she didn’t bother following through. What the fuck was she playing at.

End of the round and time for my trainer and I to have a whispered conversation.

‘I’m totting up points, lots of blows on target.’ I gasped as I sat down on the stool.

‘But they’re not having an impact on her,’ he pointed out. ‘She’s tiring you down, and now she’s start to wear you out before finishing you off.’

I turned to him. ‘Thanks for your support.’

‘Just being honest, Emma. You think she is just a tank, but she’s quite shrewd. Watch yourself or you’ll trip up.’

Great ego booster for the second round. Still, I pay him to be honest, I suppose.

 

[lowblow emma]

Round 2

The second round began much like the first, with me pursuing Tina and her just managing to back off enough to break the force of the blow, but making no serious attempt to retaliate, until-

It must have been half way through the round when her attitude changed. Instead of backing off, she stepped towards me, onto the blow, which hit her with greater force when I had expected, jarring my wrist and elbow. And then she was onto me. Her left fist pistoned into my gut – she’s righthanded by the way – forcing me backwards. The gasp of the crowd drowned out my cry of pain. It was like being hit by an express train. Before I could recover my equilibrium, her left fist hit me again, then a third and fourth time, each time driving me further back into a neutral corner. The crowd was silent now, surprised as I was when Tina stopped her onslaught and just stood over me, challenging me to retaliate if I could.

I was too winded to deliver a punch anywhere close to the power of hers. But I had to produce something and all I could do was resort to brawling tactics. I just flailed out, arms and fist flying from all directions. Like any opponent faced with that, Tina wasn’t sure which way to move to avoid the blows and I caught her a lucky strike across her nose. I heard a crack and blood spurted out over my chest and splattering my light blue top. I managed a further two blows, one on her right tit and the final one over her left eye, causing more blood to flow down her face. Not classic technique, sure, but effective.

The ref stepped in to check for damage, but she pushed her away and raised her fists to continue the fight, just as the bell rang for the end of the round. Her trainer tried to stem the blood, while mine could only whisper, ‘Where the hell did those punches come from.’ ‘I don’t know,’ I admitted, ‘but I know where they landed.’ And, I thought, thank goodness they didn’t land between my legs or I’d have been in the foetal position for the next week.

 

[lowblow emma]

Round 3

By the end of the interval, both our tank tops were soaked with the water our trainers had used to mop up the blood. Cameras flashed as we stepped out of our corners. Tina’s face was a mess of blood and butterfly plasters, but she rushed me as we approached the centre of the ring. I swivelled and stepped back, leaving her to sail past, but slipped into a drop of blood that no one had bothered clearing up between round. Tina spun and threw a punch at my face. I dodged out of reach but fell onto my back. The ref immediately rushed between us and began counting.

‘What?’ I shouted at her, ‘just what the fuck is this?’ I was scrambling to my knees now. ‘I slipped, didn’t you see that?’ I was on my feet by now, staring at Tina’s broad grin over the ref’s shoulder. Her fist came shot at me as soon as the ref moved away, but I had been expecting something like that. Quite step back, then I moved in, fast, left fist into her nose, right into her cut and, as she doubled over, another smash onto the bridge of her nose. Crack, blood everywhere. It’s broken now, if it wasn’t before. She straightened, raising her arms to protect her face, exposing her tits, OK nipples. Too tempting a target to miss. Thud, thud, hit both on the button. Then, for the first time, Tina groaned.

The crowd was chatting, urging me on to finish her off. How could I refuse? My signature move, drop to right knee, right fist on the canvas, then an uppercut, propelled at her crotch, heading for her clit. Then silence. No response, no cry of pain, the brain has yet to register, then the wobble, knees shaking, and down she went, foetal position. I’m waiting for the count to begin, but it doesn’t. The ref is calling the doctor from ringside to check her nose.

Thanks, ref, thanks a lot.

By the time the doctor had decided Tina was fit to continue, the bell had rung and I had lost momentum.

Shit.

 

[lowblow emma]

Round 4



Tina’s trainer worked on her throughout the interval. Obviously he was more worried about her crotch than her nose, judging by the amount of ice he applied, leaving her with sodden shorts to match her top.


My mind was mainly on the ref, though. What I wanted, what I really really wanted, was to floor that bitch. She was definitely on Tina’s side. Was she her Queen or something? You had to wonder, when she had counted me when I slipped but not Tina when I knocked her to the canvas.


Getting distracted was a big mistake, because Tina was out of her corner and across the ring before I fully registered how fast she was moving. She stopped in front of me and dropped to one knee. I recognised my signature move; she was going to turn the table on me. I managed to stagger back enough to prevent her blow catching me between my legs, but it could a glancing blow across my clit.


Fuck.


I managed to stay upright, but no self-respecting opponent was going to step back and let me recover. She was on her feet with her fist flying at my head. I knew this was a ploy, to get my hands up and allow her to come in to attack my undercarriage. I had to protect my head, so I brought up my arms, but twisted my body and tried to dodge around to prevent her having a clear follow up show on my clit.


The stinging was just wearing off a bit, when she pistoned me in the solar plexus. That winded me and gave her a chance, down on one knee then thrusting upwards, hard and fast, and this time there was nothing I could do to divert the blow, let alone block it completely. My brain whited out as the pain registered and my knees went. I heard a cry, which must have been me, and the gasp of the crowd. Then everything was silence, except the inexorable counting of the ref.



ONE



I was used to crotch blows, we all were, but this was bad.



TWO



Normally, I could beat the count, but her knuckle had landed on my clit.



THREE



Stay down, that was advice the trainers always gave, take your time to recover, don’t rush to get back up too soon.



FOUR



Rush? You must be joking? At least my brain was working, which was a good sign, because it takes a lot of will power to overcome this sort of pain.



FIVE



Managed to get to one knee, but hit by a spasm. Spasms are the big danger, hitting you out of the blue and without warning, giving your opponent a chance to take you off guard.

 

[lowblow emma]

Round 4 continued



SIX

Take a quick breath as the pain subsides.



SEVEN

Begin to rise, but watch Tina carefully because this is my vulnerable moment. My clit is still stinging, my knees are wobbly, my confidence is low.



EIGHT

On my feet. The ref steps back and stops counting. Tina just waits. I stand but don’t dare to move in case my legs give way.



Finally, she moves, comes in fast with another blow to my solar plexus, but I don’t double up because she grabs me by my hair and pulls my head up to deliver a fast upper cut onto the point of my jaw as she brings her knee up into my crotch, point of knee right on my clit. Vomit rises in the back of my throat. Knees aren’t allowed, strictly, but the refs have a discretion to allow them if they are part of a combined move. Our eyes meet, hers are cold, mine at wet with tears.

Then she picks me up, left arm under my shoulders, right arm behind my knees, and tosses me over the top rope, to land in a pile at the feet of my front row fans. Now there is no discretion to allow that and the ref is reminding Tina that this is boxing and not wrestling. So I get another breather, and a lift back into the ring from fans whose hands get to places I’d rather they didn’t. And then the bell rings.

Saved, but humiliated. This isn’t how a champion defends her title. She’s not supposed to be bashed and battered and then tossed out of the ring like a rag doll. I’ve got to come up with something in round 5 if I am to have a chance to retain my title. The question is: what? Right now, I don’t have a clue.

 

[lowblow emma]

Round 5



My clit had stopped stinging and the pain in my gut had sort of settled, my legs were able to support me, and I even had a plan as the bell rang for the start of round 5.

I can’t remember what the plan was. Whatever it was, it didn’t happen. Tina stormed across the ring, catching me up and ramming me into my corner, trapping me there. Her right hand went to my crotch and clawed at my pussy. ‘I’m goin’ to fuck ya, you bitch.’ She spat the words in my face, twisting her hand and stepping back to drag me to the centre of the ring like a dog being taken for a walk, turning so that everyone in the stadium could see what she was doing to me. ‘Taking ma bitch for a walk,’ she shouted to the crowd.

Then she swung at me, left fist flying at my face. I’d been prepared for something to happen, because this wasn’t getting her anywhere close to a victory and her left hand was the only one free. I rocked backwards and swung at her with my right, catching her on her ear. She let go of my pussy and swung at me with her right. I moved back and she landed a glancing blow on my jaw, but her left hand grabbed my top and pulled me towards her just in time to meet another blow from her right that caught me above my left eye. Then she began swinging me around, keeping me off balance, but making it more difficult for her to land her blows.

Well, two could play that game. I managed to grab her top on the second attempt, but instead of pulling her towards me or throwing her around, I pulled it down, one sharp jerk and it was around her waist, displaying her flat chest. Roars and whistles from the crowd and, to my surprise, she released me to pull the top back into place. Now was my chance, with her hands occupied, I moved in, with the hardest punch I could manage, right into her crotch, which barely made her flinch, then another and another. But she showed no reaction, just a deep laugh. ‘Is that ya best,’ she taunted me, ‘is that all you’ve got left, bitch?’

It was a risk, but I took it. Strictly it wasn’t part of the same move, but I rushed her and brought my knee up, aiming its point onto her clit – she had to have one buried in there somewhere and my momentum added power to the blow. She yowled and the ref waved us to fight on. She must have sensed that this fight was reaching a climax and was going to let us slug it out.

If I had thought that this would slow her down, I could not have been more wrong. She flew at me in a rag, kicking out at my crotch, arms raining blows onto my chest and head, some missed, some I parried, and the rest caught me punishing blows. It was all so fast and so furious that there was little I could do to resist let alone retaliate. She wasn’t trying to defend herself, so some of my blows hit home, two really good ones on her eyes and one gut clenching piston into her belly – do idea where the strength for that came from, desperation probably.

She had to tire soon and hopefully that would be before the bell so I could get some blows on target before the end of the round. I saw the official’s hand on the bell, but it was not too late for Tina’s final move. She whisked me off my feet, swung me round and, just as the bell sounded, dropped me onto the top rope. With no chance to get my legs together or my hands down, my pussy took my full weight. I screamed and toppled, falling headlong, until my foot caught under the middle rope, leaving me swinging. Cameras flashed as my trainer struggled to free me and I crashed onto the floor. This time, no one came to help me into the ring.

I managed to get onto my feet with my trainer supporting me, only to find Tina standing next to me. ‘I told ya I’d fuck ya and I just did, but this is only the start.’

She was right, she had fucked me, good and proper.

‘I’ve been nice to you so far, treated you with respect, well no more,’ she finished as she turned and strode off to her corner and climbed into the ring just as the bell rang for round 6, leaving me still on the floor outside the ring.

 

[lowblow emma]

Round 6



The ref held Tina back as I crawled into the ring. She even stood back making a show of being gracious on the brink of victory.

I don’t know where I found the strength, but I did. Desperation probably and the knowledge and experience that told me overconfidence was a weakness. And Tina was definitely confident. It oozed from the way she stood, the way she looked at me, the way her eyes told me she was already seeing herself holding the championship belt over her head as she stalked around the ring.

So I put on a bit of a show of struggling to my feet, that didn’t take a lot of acting, but I exaggerated how I was feeling for effect. and as the ref stepped back, I thrust myself up from the canvas, fist clenched but low, and rushed at Tina, my fist rising as I came. She was taken completely by surprise. When my fist hit the point of her jaw, her eyes went up and she went down.

The crowd exploded. This was the last thing they had expected.

And then I made my mistake. Out of revenge, from sheer frustration at how I had been treated, with my crotch still stinging as a reminder of being deposited on the top rope, I raised my foot and stomped on her crotch. A legitimate follow up move. It seems not, at least not to the ref. She pushed me into a neutral corner and gave me a lecture of illicit moves on a disabled opponent.

‘Disabled?’ I screamed at her. ‘She’s not disabled, she’s out for the count.’ This lecture had already gone on for far longer than even the most drawn out count of 10 and she was still flat on her back. ‘Stomping on her didn’t make any difference, she was already out cold.’ But my arguments made no difference. The crowd booed and hissed at her, but she was adamant and held me in the corner until Tina had come round and risen unsteadily to her feet. Even then the ref made a point of checking her to see if she was OK to fight on, which she was by the time the ref was finished.

And that was when I knew I had lost. I had given it all I could and victory, my rightful victory, had been snatched from me. Tina was glaring at me now. It was just a matter of how and when, not whether I would be defeated.

 

[lowblow emma]

The ref stood back and I waited for Tina. She was onto me right away, pushing me back into a corner. Then she began.

The first blows were aimed at my head. They were a feint, I knew that, but I had to protect myself, so I raised my arms. That was when the blows rained in.

The first, a left, hit my right breast, her nipple catching my nipple, like a piston driven by a steam engine. The next, a right, hit my left tit, just as hard. Two more, left-right, left-right. I was too slow to blow the onslaught, as I was when the blows moved to my belly, rat-a-tat-tat, left-right, left-right, and again, not hitting my solar plexus, she didn’t want me out of action yet, lower, but hard, sick making hard, knee weakening hard. I was only held up by the corner post.

My mind was blank, not taking in what was happening, not working out a plan to protect myself, let alone to retaliate. Just survival, stay up for as long as I could, not show any sign of weakness.

Then a pause. It felt like minutes, but was probably just a few seconds.

Then bare knuckles onto my clit, mind blanking, vomit rising, eyes glazing hard. and then a second, before I had a chance to double over. This was it, the end, I was sure of it, just step back Tina and let me land at your feet in a heap.

But it wasn’t the end.

Two more blows, right-left, fast, hard, before I could sink to the canvas. Right on my bladder. Only then did she step back.

That was when I felt it. inside, rushing, urgent. I clenched my thighs and tried to stop it, but no good. Then a dampness, not too bad, just a slight wetness between my legs. Then it burst, hot stream gushing out of me, soaking my shorts.

‘Towel,’ I screamed at my trainer, ‘towel.’

Either he didn’t hear or didn’t understand what was happening. I couldn’t stand there, with a yellow river running down my legs and a puddle at my feet. I whipped off my top and thrust it into my crotch, rolled under the ropes and ran to my dressing room.

Just like in my dream.

Not knocked out, not counted out, not forced to submit. I had lost my championship by running away.