The Fight that Goes Wrong - round 1 gets off to a bad start for one of the contestants

[Foxy Lady]

There a good living to be earned on the corporate wrestling circuit. Some, like me, move from the legit circuit to supplement their earnings or to sustain a career in the only profession they know. Others are just there as entertainers.



I'm Kathy Byron, by the way, although you won't know me under that name.



If you don't know about the corporate circuit, it's about fights staged for corporate events as part of the experience for delegates or staff or whoever. Usually in an evening. There are agents who specialise in the market and who offer a range of fights from serious professional wrestling to comedy, with fetishes to suit any taste.



I'm on my way, out of State for a change, for an evening match for a large firm of investment bankers. They've booked a standard package – me as the real wrestler and a jobber – usually a long-legged blonde in her undies – who gets beaten up. She is given a chance to turn the table mid-fight, but essentially this is a way for a lot of guys to get themselves off seeing a cat fight.



My opponent, just for once, is not Blonde. With a fighting name of Raven, she couldn't be.



And my name? Foxy. With my red hair – natural since you ask, not out of a bottle – that I wear short-cropped, what else could I be called?



It's a good package. Generous, even for investment bankers, with all travel and hotel expenses thrown in. How could I refuse? Why would I want to?

 

[Foxy Lady]

Fight night.

Audience settled - speeches made - let the fight begin.

i was called to the ring first. 'Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome all the way from out of State' - muted laughter - 'FOXY. Big hand ladies and gentlemen.'

Music - lights flashing and spotlights roaming over the auditorium - my image on the screens as I strode down the aisle to the ring.

Medium height, muscular, shot cropped red hair like I said, broad shoulders, washboard stomach, heavy thighs. Purple shorts and pink bra top.. Pink thong too but that's not for display.

A quick wave - no point doing a circuit of the ring milking the applause - business-like manner - let's get on with it.

'Now, Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome the challenger - RAVEN.'

Music - spot light on entrance, but video screens blank.

Then she strode out - paused - waved - I always feel silly doing that, but it suited her - let the audience look, because there was lots to look at.

Beach body ready, but not much sign of any muscle.

Bronze tan - wavy lack hair - thong and skimpy bra in dazzling white - strutting slowly to the ring like a catwalk model.

Now the slow climb through the ropes. Clapping, cheering, whistles. She parades round, waving, showing off her body, ignoring me.

She's a stunner. My favourite - the show off who gets taken down. Thrown about, humiliated - that bra won't make it to the fifth round and the thong won't see the end of the fight.

I can't wait to get my hands on her. I can't believe my luck that I am being paid to do this.

She doesn't stand a chance. Not a hope. She's up against a seasoned pro and she knows it.

 

[Foxy Lady]

DING DING



The bell sounded for the start of the fight. I moved towards the centre of the ring to meet Raven and begin her humiliation.



She moved slowly towards me, as if in trepidation at what was to come.



I was mentally planning what my first move would be – I like to act on instinct and in the moment rather than have any rigid plan.



Then, in an instant, her slow progress changed, there was a flurry of movement, and her boot contacted with the point of my chin.



Raven had launched herself into a flying dropkick that sent me to floor on my ass.



Seconds later, I was on my back with my legs over my shoulders and Raven on top of me.



What the fuck is she playing at? I wondered.



'What the fuck,' I exclaimed.



SLAP



ONE.



The referee had begun the count as my shoulders rested on the canvas. What the hell was this about? I immediately pushed one arm upwards to stop the count.



Raven was whispering.



'I know your game, you want to get yourself off by mauling me and throwing me around. That's the only way you can get your hands on someone like me.'



SLAP



ONE.



I was so shocked I had relaxed. Hand up again, stopping the count.



This was pointless. She didn't have the strength to hold me down.



'No one wants a fat-assessed, titless, dyke like you.'



SLAP SLAP



The ref was trying to get my attention so I could get on with what I was being paid to do.



ONE.



TWO.



Damn, I needed to toss this bitch off and show who was in charge.



She saved me the bother, rolling off me and leaving me with just enough time to miss the count and avoid conceding a fall in the opening seconds of the round.



I eased myself onto my knees, ignoring the cheers that were obviously intended for my opponent.



I glanced round to find where she was and rose quickly to my feet. But she moved faster, catching me off balance so that her momentum carried me into the corner of the ring. I hit the corner post with a jolt and barely had time for the flash of pain to pass before she had one of my legs over a middle rope, quickly followed by the other.



Trapped – like an amateur on the first day of training.



Trapped like a fly as she lashes me with forearm jabs. She's not strong enough to do me much harm, but blow after blow begins to take its effect. Then she's up on the ropes, straddling me, her crotch in my face as she waves to the crowd.



I can smell her, actually smell her pussy.



She's the one who is getting off on this. Getting off on making me look like a fool.



A nasty thought creeps into my mind, as she slowly drops to the canvas, rubbing her body against me. Was this all arranged in advance? Is that why I was getting paid over my usual fee?



She steps back, looks at me and shakes her head as if in disgust.



I am wondering what she plans next. I can sit her and wait – my legs are so tangled I have no choice.



When she steps forward, I am braced for anything, anything except what she actually does.