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CougarGirl
Star
- Joined
- Nov 5, 2013
Candice walked round the corner and into the punch. The fist caught her on the side of her mouth, the force of the blow knocked her backwards, and she bounced off a trash can and onto the ground. Her jaw ached, her ass throbbed, her spine jangled and her head spun.
‘What the fuck,’ she wondered, ‘is happening?’
She looked up at her assailant. A tall woman in black boots, a tight black leather skirt and a white blouse. The skirt was stretched across body-builder thighs and the sleeves of the blouse strained against the bulges of her biceps.
‘Don’t think this is over now,’ the woman informed her coldly. ‘This is just the beginning.’
She gave Candice a solid kick to her thigh and turned away. As if by way of afterthought, she looked back over her shoulder at her recumbent victim.
‘Bitch,’ she spat and her saliva splattered Candice’s dress.
‘What the fuck,’ she wondered, ‘is this all about?’
At her office, she went straight to the washroom, where she brushed the dirt off her dress and inspected the damage. Her jaw was sore and there was a small cut on her lip, which was easily covered with lip gloss. There was no sign of a bruise, not yet anyway.
At her desk, she checked her cell phone. One of the texts was from her latest lover, Steve. ‘Hilda’s found out. Watch out. Stay out of sight till she calms down.’
‘Too late,’ she texted back. ‘What the hell is she, a bodybuilder or something?’
‘Wrestler,’ he replied.
‘You never told me that,’ she responded.
‘It’s not something I’m proud of,’ was his final text for the day.
The next morning, Candice took a different route to work, keeping to the busier streets, but there was no sign of Hilda. At lunchtime, she popped out for a coffee and, before returning to work, went to the washroom. She was entering the cubicle, when she was pushed from behind and the door slammed. Strong hands pressed on her shoulders, forcing her to the floor. One of the hands moved and her head was pushed into the pan. The other hand moved and the cistern was flushed. Water poured over Candice’s hair, as she struggled to escape, but Hilda’s grip was too powerful. Only when the water had stopped, did she release her grip, leaving Candice on her knees, cursing and spluttering with her hair soaked and water dripping down her dress. She shook her head and put it under the dryer, and tried to mop the water off her dress. By the time she finally emerged, she looked ruffled but presentable.
‘What will she do next?’ she wondered as she walked back to work.
She sent a text to Steve: ‘Can’t you call that bitch off?’
He replied later that afternoon: ‘She doesn’t listen. She’s really upset.’
Upset? Well, Candice didn’t want to meet her when she got really angry. She noticed that Steve hadn’t bothered to ask what had happened today.
For the next couple of days, Candice was cautious to the point of paranoia, making sure she kept in the midst of crowds or at least close to others, and checking around her for any sign of Hilda. But there was no sign and she began to relax. Perhaps, she thought, she had cooled down or Steve had persuaded her to back off. And that, of course, was her mistake.
Candice was on her way to visit a business client at a local hotel and was waiting for the elevator. As the doors opened, she was pushed forward from behind. She spun round to face her attacker as the doors closed, to be met by Hilda’s forehead smashing into her face. She felt blood spurt down her face and frantically scrambled in her purse for something to staunch the flow. As soon as the doors opened, Hilda pushed her out and the doors closed smartly behind her. She was left on the top floor of the hotel with blood pouring down her clothes. There was no way she could meet her client in that state, so she texted to cancel and staggered home to assess the damage. The bleeding had stopped and her nose was already swollen. She was obviously heading for two colorful eyes. This had got to stop before it got out of hand.
She texted Steve, demanding his wife’s cell phone number so that she could get in touch.
‘Is that wise?’ he replied, but gave her the number anyway.
She sat down and began to text: ‘We need to get this sorted.’
Hilda’s reply was instant: ‘Right.’
‘We need to meet.’
‘Right.’
‘Where do you suggest?’
‘My gym. Next Saturday. 10 am.’
‘Do they serve good coffee?’ Candice texted innocently.
‘Fuck the coffee. I don’t want to drink with you. We’re going to fight. That’s the only way.’
After that Hilda ignored the texts, leaving Candice to wonder what the hell she had let herself in for.
She arrived at Hilda’s gym at 9.30 and found the women’s changing room. As she entered, the stench of stale sweat caught in her throat. Her choking attracted the attention of the other women there. Word had obviously spread about what was going to happen. Some giggled as she changed into her black bikini, the only thing she had that was vaguely suitable. As a couple passed by, one remarked casually, ‘She’ll slaughter you.’ Only one woman gave Candice any support. An elderly woman who was there for the Pilates’ class. ‘Hilda’s tough and she’s mean,’ she told her, ‘but she’s not fast. That’s your only advantage.’
The woman was right, but it wasn’t easy to implement her advice when faced with what looked like a truck in a silver leotard. Candice had known her opponent was big, but she had not realised how powerful until she saw the muscle on display, bulging and flexing. If that was part of Hilda’s technique of intimidation, it worked. It took all Candice’s will power not to vault over the ropes and leg it as fast as she could. While she was trying to decide what to do, she caught sight of Steve sitting on a chair by the ring, watching these two women fight for him. Was he worth it? Was it worth taking the pain that Hilda was sure to inflict on her just for, well for what, a not particularly inventive lover who made her laugh?
But while these thoughts were working themselves out in Candice’s mind, Hilda acted. She barrelled into the smaller fighter and knocked her onto her ass. Candice managed to roll out of the way quickly, and just in time to avoid the full weight of Hilda landing on her. She got to her feet and retreated, hoping to be able to keep out of arms’ reach and take advantage of any opening she got, although she couldn’t imagine what form that might take. Her tactic at least prevented any more contact with Hilda and, to her surprise, she managed to land some slaps on Hilda’s face and ass as she brushed past. This got Hilda annoyed and, therefore, more determined, but also more clumsy. Which gave Candice more changes to torment her with some stinging slaps and even an occasional kick, that sent her sprawling into the ropes. But Candice didn’t dare follow up, fearing being trapped in a crushing bear hug from those huge arms.
It was the final kick that was her undoing. It sent Hilda sprawling into the ropes. And the Hilda who disentangled herself had a more determined and cunning look than before. She stomped menacingly towards Candice who feinted to the left, before switching to the right. But this time, Hilda had read her intentions. She moved into Candice’s path, grabbed her in a bear hug and ran towards the corner of the ring, releasing her opponent at the last moment and crashing with her into the padding. The breath was crushed out of Candice’s body as Hilda rammed into her again and again, shaking the ring. Then she grabbed Candice’s ankles and wrapped them over the middle rope on either side of the corner, leaving her stuck and exposed. Candice had only a second or two to understand the sort of attack that she was exposed to, a second or two before the first knee crashed into her crotch and shook her spine, followed by a second and a third.
Candice had never realised that women were as delicate there as she knew men were, but she was now better informed. All she wanted to do was curl up, cry and try to avoid being sick. But right now she had other priorities. And top of the list, as Hilda retreated to get a run up for another attack, was to get free. Candice managed to release one leg just in time to get out of Hilda’s path, leaving her to crash into the corner. Both women landed together on the mat.
As Candice scrambled swiftly away, she caught sight of Steve standing by the ring, his face unable to conceal his interest and excitement.
‘Wait a minute,’ Candice cried with a sudden flash of inspiration. She rolled out of the ring and confronted Steve. ‘This is all your doing, isn’t it? You’re getting off having two women fight over you. You set it up, got involved with me, let Hilda know. That’s it, isn’t it? Playing us off against each other.’
‘No,’ roared Hilda, now on her feet by the ropes. ‘No, don’t you try to twist everything and blame him. You tried to take him from me and now you’re paying for it. That’s it, isn’t it, baby?’’
But Steve did not deny the accusation. He just stood and hung his head.
‘You bastard,’ Candice screamed. ‘You fucking bastard, you are so not worth it.’ And, stepping back, she lashed her foot hard into his groin. He didn’t see it coming, and wouldn’t have had time to react if he had. The blow threw him backwards against the chair, which toppled, depositing him on the floor, where he lay moaning quietly and clutching his crotch.
‘Bitch,’ Hilda roared again, ‘fucking bitch. You’ve hurt my baby.’ And, climbing through the ropes, she launched herself onto Candice, who stood aside and raised her knee, Hilda’s weight and momentum carrying her crotch into a jarring contact. A quick sidestep left Hilda sprawling on the floor next to her husband, where she too moaned and clutched her crotch.
Candice turned to find the elderly woman who had advised her in the dressing room. She held out her clothes to her and gave her the second piece of good advice that day. ‘Run,’ she said, ‘before they recover.’
Candice ran.
‘What the fuck,’ she wondered, ‘is happening?’
She looked up at her assailant. A tall woman in black boots, a tight black leather skirt and a white blouse. The skirt was stretched across body-builder thighs and the sleeves of the blouse strained against the bulges of her biceps.
‘Don’t think this is over now,’ the woman informed her coldly. ‘This is just the beginning.’
She gave Candice a solid kick to her thigh and turned away. As if by way of afterthought, she looked back over her shoulder at her recumbent victim.
‘Bitch,’ she spat and her saliva splattered Candice’s dress.
‘What the fuck,’ she wondered, ‘is this all about?’
At her office, she went straight to the washroom, where she brushed the dirt off her dress and inspected the damage. Her jaw was sore and there was a small cut on her lip, which was easily covered with lip gloss. There was no sign of a bruise, not yet anyway.
At her desk, she checked her cell phone. One of the texts was from her latest lover, Steve. ‘Hilda’s found out. Watch out. Stay out of sight till she calms down.’
‘Too late,’ she texted back. ‘What the hell is she, a bodybuilder or something?’
‘Wrestler,’ he replied.
‘You never told me that,’ she responded.
‘It’s not something I’m proud of,’ was his final text for the day.
The next morning, Candice took a different route to work, keeping to the busier streets, but there was no sign of Hilda. At lunchtime, she popped out for a coffee and, before returning to work, went to the washroom. She was entering the cubicle, when she was pushed from behind and the door slammed. Strong hands pressed on her shoulders, forcing her to the floor. One of the hands moved and her head was pushed into the pan. The other hand moved and the cistern was flushed. Water poured over Candice’s hair, as she struggled to escape, but Hilda’s grip was too powerful. Only when the water had stopped, did she release her grip, leaving Candice on her knees, cursing and spluttering with her hair soaked and water dripping down her dress. She shook her head and put it under the dryer, and tried to mop the water off her dress. By the time she finally emerged, she looked ruffled but presentable.
‘What will she do next?’ she wondered as she walked back to work.
She sent a text to Steve: ‘Can’t you call that bitch off?’
He replied later that afternoon: ‘She doesn’t listen. She’s really upset.’
Upset? Well, Candice didn’t want to meet her when she got really angry. She noticed that Steve hadn’t bothered to ask what had happened today.
For the next couple of days, Candice was cautious to the point of paranoia, making sure she kept in the midst of crowds or at least close to others, and checking around her for any sign of Hilda. But there was no sign and she began to relax. Perhaps, she thought, she had cooled down or Steve had persuaded her to back off. And that, of course, was her mistake.
Candice was on her way to visit a business client at a local hotel and was waiting for the elevator. As the doors opened, she was pushed forward from behind. She spun round to face her attacker as the doors closed, to be met by Hilda’s forehead smashing into her face. She felt blood spurt down her face and frantically scrambled in her purse for something to staunch the flow. As soon as the doors opened, Hilda pushed her out and the doors closed smartly behind her. She was left on the top floor of the hotel with blood pouring down her clothes. There was no way she could meet her client in that state, so she texted to cancel and staggered home to assess the damage. The bleeding had stopped and her nose was already swollen. She was obviously heading for two colorful eyes. This had got to stop before it got out of hand.
She texted Steve, demanding his wife’s cell phone number so that she could get in touch.
‘Is that wise?’ he replied, but gave her the number anyway.
She sat down and began to text: ‘We need to get this sorted.’
Hilda’s reply was instant: ‘Right.’
‘We need to meet.’
‘Right.’
‘Where do you suggest?’
‘My gym. Next Saturday. 10 am.’
‘Do they serve good coffee?’ Candice texted innocently.
‘Fuck the coffee. I don’t want to drink with you. We’re going to fight. That’s the only way.’
After that Hilda ignored the texts, leaving Candice to wonder what the hell she had let herself in for.
She arrived at Hilda’s gym at 9.30 and found the women’s changing room. As she entered, the stench of stale sweat caught in her throat. Her choking attracted the attention of the other women there. Word had obviously spread about what was going to happen. Some giggled as she changed into her black bikini, the only thing she had that was vaguely suitable. As a couple passed by, one remarked casually, ‘She’ll slaughter you.’ Only one woman gave Candice any support. An elderly woman who was there for the Pilates’ class. ‘Hilda’s tough and she’s mean,’ she told her, ‘but she’s not fast. That’s your only advantage.’
The woman was right, but it wasn’t easy to implement her advice when faced with what looked like a truck in a silver leotard. Candice had known her opponent was big, but she had not realised how powerful until she saw the muscle on display, bulging and flexing. If that was part of Hilda’s technique of intimidation, it worked. It took all Candice’s will power not to vault over the ropes and leg it as fast as she could. While she was trying to decide what to do, she caught sight of Steve sitting on a chair by the ring, watching these two women fight for him. Was he worth it? Was it worth taking the pain that Hilda was sure to inflict on her just for, well for what, a not particularly inventive lover who made her laugh?
But while these thoughts were working themselves out in Candice’s mind, Hilda acted. She barrelled into the smaller fighter and knocked her onto her ass. Candice managed to roll out of the way quickly, and just in time to avoid the full weight of Hilda landing on her. She got to her feet and retreated, hoping to be able to keep out of arms’ reach and take advantage of any opening she got, although she couldn’t imagine what form that might take. Her tactic at least prevented any more contact with Hilda and, to her surprise, she managed to land some slaps on Hilda’s face and ass as she brushed past. This got Hilda annoyed and, therefore, more determined, but also more clumsy. Which gave Candice more changes to torment her with some stinging slaps and even an occasional kick, that sent her sprawling into the ropes. But Candice didn’t dare follow up, fearing being trapped in a crushing bear hug from those huge arms.
It was the final kick that was her undoing. It sent Hilda sprawling into the ropes. And the Hilda who disentangled herself had a more determined and cunning look than before. She stomped menacingly towards Candice who feinted to the left, before switching to the right. But this time, Hilda had read her intentions. She moved into Candice’s path, grabbed her in a bear hug and ran towards the corner of the ring, releasing her opponent at the last moment and crashing with her into the padding. The breath was crushed out of Candice’s body as Hilda rammed into her again and again, shaking the ring. Then she grabbed Candice’s ankles and wrapped them over the middle rope on either side of the corner, leaving her stuck and exposed. Candice had only a second or two to understand the sort of attack that she was exposed to, a second or two before the first knee crashed into her crotch and shook her spine, followed by a second and a third.
Candice had never realised that women were as delicate there as she knew men were, but she was now better informed. All she wanted to do was curl up, cry and try to avoid being sick. But right now she had other priorities. And top of the list, as Hilda retreated to get a run up for another attack, was to get free. Candice managed to release one leg just in time to get out of Hilda’s path, leaving her to crash into the corner. Both women landed together on the mat.
As Candice scrambled swiftly away, she caught sight of Steve standing by the ring, his face unable to conceal his interest and excitement.
‘Wait a minute,’ Candice cried with a sudden flash of inspiration. She rolled out of the ring and confronted Steve. ‘This is all your doing, isn’t it? You’re getting off having two women fight over you. You set it up, got involved with me, let Hilda know. That’s it, isn’t it? Playing us off against each other.’
‘No,’ roared Hilda, now on her feet by the ropes. ‘No, don’t you try to twist everything and blame him. You tried to take him from me and now you’re paying for it. That’s it, isn’t it, baby?’’
But Steve did not deny the accusation. He just stood and hung his head.
‘You bastard,’ Candice screamed. ‘You fucking bastard, you are so not worth it.’ And, stepping back, she lashed her foot hard into his groin. He didn’t see it coming, and wouldn’t have had time to react if he had. The blow threw him backwards against the chair, which toppled, depositing him on the floor, where he lay moaning quietly and clutching his crotch.
‘Bitch,’ Hilda roared again, ‘fucking bitch. You’ve hurt my baby.’ And, climbing through the ropes, she launched herself onto Candice, who stood aside and raised her knee, Hilda’s weight and momentum carrying her crotch into a jarring contact. A quick sidestep left Hilda sprawling on the floor next to her husband, where she too moaned and clutched her crotch.
Candice turned to find the elderly woman who had advised her in the dressing room. She held out her clothes to her and gave her the second piece of good advice that day. ‘Run,’ she said, ‘before they recover.’
Candice ran.