The Fight that Goes Wrong - round 3 and the blonde exits the ring

[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.

 

[Foxy Lady]

Raven strolled across the ring and pulled on the ropes trapping my right leg, pushing them open for me to remove my foot. I was still recovering from the surprise, when she did the same for the other leg.



She turned away and I saw my chance to tackle her from behind.



I moved forward, just as she spun, leg high to kick me in the face. I moved back just far enough to escape the full force but she hit me hard enough to send me back into the corner.



DING DING



End of the first round. So soon? Or had someone decided to ring early to give me a break?



My trainer-cum-manager was waiting to hand me the water bottle. I snatched it and moved in to spit in his ear.



'What the fuck is going on here? Did you know this was going to happen?'



I took a swig of water and swilled it around my mouth. It's what wrestlers do – not sure why.



'I got the best deal I could,' was all he could say as he held the bucket towards me.



I spat. Some of the water and saliva went into the bucket, most went over his arm.



DING DING



Round 2.



I moved cautiously forward, braced for an attack.



There was a gasp from the crowd and then some applause.



Before I could wonder what was happening, my trunks were pulled down and I was pushed.



I twisted as I fell, grabbing my shorts.



What the hell?



I looked up – and saw Raven laughing at my predicament.



Except no, Raven hadn't moved.



But this was her spitting image. Except for the blue bra and thong. They were so alike they had to be twins. Unless, of course, they were twins.



Was this another surprise my wonderful manager had forgotten to mention?



No time to wonder, though. Raven had moved in and she and her sister were taking hold of my ankles, dragging me to the centre of the ring.



WISHBONE



The audience were chanting.



WISHBONE WISHBONE

 

[Foxy Lady]

As Raven and her sister dragged me to the centre of the ring, I struggled frantically to get my shorts back where they belonged. I had just made it when the girls started acting up to the audience, pretending to stretch my legs wide, teasing the paying customers and tormenting me.



I put up the expected show, protesting, begging, squealing 'No, no'. It's all good fun, and the pros know the tricks of making it look like the 'victim' does suffer too much pain. But I caught a glint in eyes as Raven nodded.



They acted in unison, pulling my legs so wide that they were stretched out on the canvas.



'ARGHHHHHH'



Shit, it felt like my muscles were ripping and my tendons were being torn.



If I hoped that they were going to stop, I was mistaken.



Before my scream could stop echoing around the hall, they had dragged me round and were starting the whole performance again. They were going to put on the show for the audience on the other side.



They teased longer this time, tormenting me more now that I knew what they were planning.



Even though I knew, although I was prepared, nothing could lessen the pain.



'DAMN-N-N-N-N'



I caught sight of my face on the screens that were broadcasting close-ups of the fight. Agony, sheer agony.



They were spinning me round, facing the crowd to my left.



No so much play acting this time.



One swift movement, then-



'NNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOO'



There were tears in my eyes now. No need to look at the screen to know.



They were going for a fourth, I was sure of it. So was the audience.



'PLEASE' I whispered, hoping they would read my lips. But the cameras caught it, the audience read the message. These bikini models were besting the wrestler and the crowd loved it.



They held my legs aloft and twisted and turned around.



'FUCK'.



Did I shout that out at max volume, or was it in my head or was it both.



All I knew was the relief when they let go of my ankles. I checked around and they were standing back. Like vultures. They were not done yet. I took my time getting to my feet. No need to hurry – those girls were going nowhere.



I hoped I could get to my feet with some dignity, but as soon as my knees took my weight, they began to buckle. They noticed and the pounced, grabbing me by my arms, pushing and pulling, until they released me towards the ropes.



They'd be waiting for me when I bounced back – at least they would if I bounced and I was wise to that move, so I caught hold of the ropes.



But they were wise to that one and moved in fast, and before I could react, they were dragging my shorts, over my hips, down my thighs, with me kicking and wriggling, which made them pull even harder, with me still cliging to the ropes.



Finally, my shorts came free and I fell onto my ass.



DING DING



End of the round. I pulled myself up and headed to my corner, the crowd cheering and whistling.



At least I still had my thong. My shorts were in the centre of the ring. I left them there. Let the ref pick them up.



I slumped onto my stool and took stock.

 

[Foxy Lady]

I had to get my head straight for this. I was being treated like a jobber, but worse than that I was behaving like one. I was allowing this to happen by trying to stick to my contract and provide some innocent entertainment. It was time for that to stop.



The key I realised was obvious – so obvious – why had I taken so long to realise it?



I was a wrestler and they were not, Raven was a performer, a jobber. Goodness knows what her sister was, but she wasn't holding herself or behaving like a wrester.



DING DING



I moved fast, ignoring the pain in my thighs where the muscles and tendons were still throbbing.



The blonde was my target. My first target.



Raven was moving towards me, but my momentum brushed her aside.



I saw the brief flash of fear in her sister's face. She knew she was going to meet a real wrestler. She froze and I took the chance to grab her round her waist and toss her over my shoulders, spinning fast, her legs keeping Raven at bay and unable to come to her aid. I was moving around the ring, waiting my chance, judging the moment by the way her weight rested on my shoulders. She would be giddy now. I felt her slump slight and didn't wait to see if this was a ruse or genuine. It could have been either, but luck was with me. I hoisted her over my head and tossed her towards the ropes. I didn't care where she landed, in the ring, out of the ring or, as actually happened, on the ropes, where she swayed briefly before toppling off, bouncing off the apron and landing on the floor.



I heard the thud and the groan of pain. I wanted to stand by the ropes and gloat, but there was no time to waste. I needed to act before she got her senses back.



I turned and advanced on Raven.