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Fight Night -- Madison vs Casey

Jan 30, 2015
Content warning: Roughhousing, dub-con/noncon, petite characters, fxf, mxf, humiliation, public humiliation, orgasm denial, exhibitionism, bondage devices, cum
Additional warning: Story still needs editing, so expect typos and grammar errors

Madison was only a few years out of college when she got the call from Candice about the "incident." She hadn't heard from her little sister since the holidays and was surprised to hear from her at all; Candice typically disappeared for months at a time on one adventure or another, and the family had gotten used to her nomadic lifestyle.

"A . . . bully?" Madison squinted in confusion as Candice repeated her story between sobs. "Candice, you are a grown woman. How could you possibly have a bull . . . " But Candice's breath slowed and she gradually finished her story. Madison could only sit in stunned silence as Candice talked about something that started as an immature oil wrestling night at a bar for free drinks. But she kept getting offered better and better money for upping the stakes until there was some sort of . . . "Underground wrestling? What the fuck, Candice?" But Candice didn't stop. Something terrible happened that she couldn't even describe in detail. But the request was clear.

"She wiped the floor with me, Madi," Candice said, and Madison could hear her brush away a tear with her forearm. The sob turned into a soft laugh, "What do you say big sis? Kick her ass for me?" Madison had some interesting, competitive hobbies through the years, including a Jiu Jitsu class in college, and she had always been the more athletic sister. From what Candice said, this "bully" was a tiny thing. The pause lasted long enough for Madison to start convincing herself. How hard could a little oil wrestling be? "The money really is good," Candice prodded to break the silence.

"Fuck it. I guess the only thing better than teaching someone not to mess with my sister is getting paid for it," Madison agreed.


The club wasn't at all what Madison had expected. Not only was it miles away from the sketchy side of town, but it bordered on ritzy. There were even people being turned away from the velvet ropes at the front, and Madison was somewhat relieved to see it wasn't just a bunch of horny gentlemen's club guys waiting in line; in fact, there were plenty of women and even a few couples. Maybe this competition was classier than what Candice made it out to be.

The bouncer immediately noticed the bright blue fighter's robe that she wore, a gift that had been mailed to her along with her acceptance letter after she sent in her trial tape. She kept her hood low over her head, half-jogging past the front doors. A silver-foxish hispanic man in his late 40s/early 50s and dressed to the 9s greeted her as soon as she came in with a legal form and a smile. From there she was rushed to the dressing room.


Madison was admiring herself in the mirror -- the blue bikini they gave her left little to the imagination, but she never minded showing off her looks in the right setting -- when she heard a soft chuckle echo through the locker room.

The laughter was followed by footsteps, then a younger woman in her own bikini, identical to Madison's except a bright red, slipped from between a row of lockers and into view. She barely came up to Madison's chin, a slim figure with a confident prance and a look-the-other-way glare. Madison knew right away that this had to be Casey. (Image NSFW)

"I can see the family resemblance," Casey sneered, as if it were an insult. "I can't believe she really came through. Of all of the things we made her do, I didn't think she'd actually follow up on this one."

"What the fuck are you prattling about? It is January. I don't need a little elf-on-a-shelf. Your little ass can fuck right off," Madison said, trying on a fighter persona she had been perfecting on the ride over here.

Casey's eyebrow rose. "I told her if she lost three fights in a row her punishment was that she had to convince you to come along for me to play with," Casey said, barely above a whisper and in an even tone that suggested sincerity. But then she only smiled silently. Before Madison could respond, could question, could contradict, an air horn echoed down the hall, their signal to enter the ring, and Casey wasn't waiting for her.


The harsh lights surrounding the white mat in the center of the ring hid the crowd from view, but Madison could still make out their silhouettes. Casey had already ducked under the ropes and was standing near her corner while a referee began squirting warm oil from a bottle over her shoulders. A hand from another ref clutched Madison's shoulder and eased her forward. She was moving too fast to turn and get a good look at him and adrenaline blurred her vision. The robe had at least provided a little warmth; even with the lights, though, goosebumps broke out across her naked shoulders.

As soon as she entered she felt the warm drizzle of oil drape over her back and was thankful for it, though there must have been something in it; it tingled and seemed to have a heat of its own, easing her goosebumps but making her sensitive nipples begin to tent her bikini top. She could see the same reaction from Casey, who caught her staring and winked. She turned in a circle to avoid Casey's eyes and allow the ref to coat the rest of her body.

Everything seemed to run together. Even the ref's words were a blur as he repeated the rules of the match to the crowd. Madison's mind only cleared when the starting bell rang.


Madison didn't even think. She charged forward and aimed a shoulder for her smaller opponent's midsection, but she hadn't accounted for the oil on the mat, stumbling as soon as she started and taking all of her focus just to stay upright as she advanced. Casey paced toward her more carefully, looking for the first sign of a false step so that she could pounce.

Madison tried turning her charge into a clothesline, swinging her forearm across Casey's shoulders. Casey took the hit, pumping the side of her hip into Madison and slinging her over and back-first onto the mat.

Madison hit with a breath-taking thump, the crowd losing their voice in gasp just as Madison did. Madison saw the room spin and then there was a lighting flash that made her limbs go numb. She tried rolling on her side. Casey was already there. Madison could only feel a soft tug, then then tingly warmth of the oil spread over her chest and she gasped once again, gazing down to realize what Madison had already taken away from her . . . her bikini top was gone, deftly untied and stripped, and there were her dark red nipples, their exciting there for all of the fans to see. She slung her arm across her chest to hide what she could and propped herself up on her side, rising just in time to see Casey toss her blue bikini top to a silhouette of a fan and blow her a kiss. The bitch turned back to her and had the nerve to wink. Then Casey was the one charging.

Madison felt her ankles taken out from under her, felt the cabled arms of Casey wrap around them and pull them back. She tried bracing herself with one arm to absorb the fall, but ended up having to take it on the shoulder. But she saw an opportunity.

Rising fast, she clapped a hand around Casey's neck, hard, stopping the charge, and stood, picking Casey up with her and lifting her by the neck, dangling her in front of her fans. The thin, pale girl positively dangled in front of her, her angry feet clawing at the air ineffectually. Slowly, in a calculated move, Madison tip-toed her fingers up Casey's ribs, listening to her mewling squirms, and hooked a finger through her top, dragging it down so that it was still tied around her back but hid nothing. Slowly, softly, she planted a playful kiss between her opponent's tiny breasts and looked up into her struggle eyes, echoing the bitch's earlier wink.

Then there was a sensation of fire across her scalp. Casey had taken a handful of her hair and gripped it tightly, twisting. It was all Madison could do to stay on her feet. She tottered, blinking through tears and still holding up Casey by the neck. Casey blinked through her own tears, catching her breath where she could and trying her damndest to kick Madison on the stomach, the taller girl's reach taking the umph out of each strike.

Madison finally fell to one knee and took Casey down with her. She turned to issue a threat and found Casey's palm pressed against her cheek, pushing her back. Then there was a familiar tug. "NOOOO, fuc . . . " but her protests were too late. The same familiar tingle that graced her breasts before now teased the curve of her ass. She had been stripped bare. But this time Casey didn't send the bikini bottom sailing into the crowd. She had dragged it down around Madison's ankles. And she was tugging again.

Casey roared and pulled, snapping the red fabric around Madison's ankles and tying the ends taught, locking her feet together. She rose, planting a hand on Madison's hip and pushing with all her might.

Madison went sailing to the ground once more, struggling and squirming, squealing in rage and kicking her locked ankles in the air. She didn't have time to untie her imprisonment, but she had time to think of something better. She swung her locked ankles along the mat and swept Casey's feet out from under her, bringing the young woman toppling over her. Immediately their hands shot for one another's hair as they tumbled on the mat, scrambling for the high ground.

Madison accepted the condition of her legs, ignoring that inconvenience for a moment and trying to use her superior size to pin Casey. It would have worked had it not been for Casey's clever finger.

Casey hadn't come out on top of the scramble, but quick thinking turned the tides back in her favor. She swept her light fingers between the inside of Madison's locked thighs, their pressure just making Madison squirm more. She stopped at the seam where Madison's let met her hip, tickling the inseam. Madison's eyes fluttered and she caught her breath and Casey saw her opportunity. Her fingers, slick with the warming, tingling oil, spidered higher, until two finger tips traced a wavelike patter over Madison's outer lips. All thoughts of untying her legs were gone and, there was no other word for it, Madison squirmed against Casey's touch in blind pleasure.

Casey swirled her finger in a circle, denying Madison the entry she so desperately wanted. Casey's gasps became wordless pleas. She wouldn't beg, not yet, but her mouth opened and closed in a wordless "yes" that brought the crowd onto their feet cheering for. She fell back, her shoulders hitting the mat, and her hips involuntarily bucked in time with the crowd's cheers and Casey's curling fingers.

Casey dipped down, her lips softly kissing the space between Madison's bottom lip and chin, climbing slowly, her tongue sweeping barely-touching paths that finally graced the crease of Madison's bottom lip.

Their tongues slipped past one another, massaging one another, playing out their own private wrestling match in Casey and Madison's mouths, the warmth of their lips multiplied by the warmth of the oil. They jockied for position for minutes, sliding from side to side and each trying to dominate the other with careful flickers of the tongue and sliding of the thigh.

But Casey slipped on top and dropped her shoulders low, rubbing her small breasts against Madison's. Madison could feel her opponent's hard nipples tickle the sensitive skin of her own and she could only stiffle moan by nuzzling Casey's neck and letting out something louder than she had intended. Casey's finger still traced its way along, now soft-scratching circled just above Madison's clit. Madison bucked her hips to meet the attention, but Casey kept the strokes just out of her reach.

She opened her mouth, this time ready to beg, but Casey slid her free hand up her chest and around her neck. With each out-of-reach tickle, this hand gripped a little stronger. Shadows crawled at the corners of Madison's vision and the tingles of her denied breath joined the tingles of the oil. She bucked her hips vigorously, not even caring about the way that the fabric around her ankles burned and constricted around her struggling lower limbs.

Casey dipped her lips to the side of Madison's head where they softly brushed against her earlobe as she whispered, "Beg . . . beg to lose and I'll let you cum. Tell the fans you submit." But Madison was already there, her hamstrings positively aching from effort as her hips pumped as if they had a mind of their own.

"Mmmmuh . . . mmmuh . . . mmmmmake me cum!" she screamed. And just like that Casey was gone from her sight. The pressure of her body was gone from Madison's. She was walking away, not even looking over he shoulder. Madison was left twitching and humping the air, unaware for some time that her submission had counted as a loss and that no relief was coming.

All that was left for her was punishment.
Jan 30, 2015
Madison's eyes fluttered as she took in the scene and Casey's departure, but her mind was too far gone. Her hand drifted slowly down, sliding across her oiled body, her fingertips teasing the trimmed pubic hair and massaging their way to her release. She could hear cheers, and even through her tightly shut eyes she could sense camera flashes.

She heard Casey's footsteps returning and opened her eyes once again, her eyebrows furrowed in confused carnal pleasure, hoping she was coming to put an end to her torture, but instead Casey took her wrist and wrenched it behind her, making her sit up and crossing her other wrist behind the first. She howled in equal parts frustration and pain, and then she felt a strange velvety sensation envelope her hands and Casey was busily working at . . . something, panting between quiet chuckles as she struggled to manipulate Madison's limbs. And then she let go. Madison quickly darted forward, scrambling on all fours away from her torturer. It was only then that she caught a glimpse of Casey's handiwork: a set of leather bondage mittens encasing each of her hands and locked around the wrist, turning her hands into fingerless, useless globs.

"Now that the dog has her cone on, she won't be using those fingers of hers for any undeserved orgasms," Casey said to the crowd, who roared with laughter. "I'm not unreasonable, though. How cruel would I have to be to leave her without a key."

Madison felt a cold chain draped over her neck and the heavy weight of the antique-looking key that now hung between her breasts. She pawed at it desperately, holding the silvery metal between her mitts and turning it this way and that before she realized the cruelty of Casey's "gift." Still on her knees, she turned her gaze up to her opponent, glaring with hatred. She tried to stand, but Casey rested her hand on her head and effortlessly pushed her back down. "Oh . . . oh no, no, no," she mocked. "He'll want you right where you are."

Madison's wordless question was soon answered a suit-wearing man, his face hidden behind a leather hood, entered the ring at one corner. She tried turning to look back up at Casey to plead her case. Casey's unforgiving hand would have none of it and her opponent held her gaze facing forward, to the man's approach. "Madison, let me introduce you to the owner of this establishment and the organizer of these fights," Casey whispered, clearly meaning her words for Madison alone.

He paused, casting a shadow over her, a black cut-out against the stadium lights, his black boots having no trouble negotiating the oiled mat. Madison's breath caught in her throat as she waited for him to say something. Instead of speaking, however, she brushed Casey's hand away from Madison's head, his own heavy hand cupping it now, his fingers woven through her hair. He lifted a little, making Madison have to stretch as she tottered forward toward him. He paused. Casey came to stand beside him. She draped one arm around his waist and two perfect, tiny fingers reached to grip his zipper and pull it slowly down. Her hand slipped inside his pinstriped pants and slowly pulled his already-hard cock free. It cast its own shadow across Madison's face as she looked up in shock.

Casey released the member and locked her hands behind her back, surprisingly quiet and subdued, bowing slightly and stepping away backward until she vanished from view. Then the only think in Madison's world were herself and this stranger.

He made no move forward. She would move for him. He pulled her closer, and she had to shift her weight, walking on her knees to keep from falling over. She felt warmth against one cheek and realized his cock was now resting against it, impossibly rigid to the point that the skin of her cheek could feel the crease of a vein. He pulled her head sharply back and, first tapping and then knocking harder, repeatedly slapped the eager organ against her cheek. She flinched, she whimpered, and, in a remarkable lapse of judgement, her jaw dropped in offended shock. This had, apparently, been his plan.

She felt his throbbing head slid past her open lips and down the center of her tongue. Her eyes shot open and she began struggling, slapping her mitted hands against his upper thighs. She grunted and shifted her head as much as she could from left to right in an attempt to find a way to free his cock from her mouth, but it only served to massage the invading thing and she could hear his breath quicken. He rocked his hips, ever so slightly -- the audience could probably see nothing, but she could certainly feel the extra invading inch and she grunted louder.

He let out a low grunt of his own and stiffened. Somehow, in the wetness of her struggling mouth, she could feel him get even harder, somehow a little bigger, and she whimpered in fear. He tilted her head forcefully and slid her back, practically dragging her, then dragging himself in deeper. She tried to at least pocket what should could in her cheek, but to no avail. Her shoulders pinched back in anticipation as he pumped once more, twice more, his grip strengthening. She could feel her saliva dripping down her chin, but it was the last thing she could concentrate on before he shifted from dragging her head to well and truly fucking it.

She didn't recognize the gagging, slobbering, defeated sounds coming from her as being her own at first. Desperate, she tried moving her tongue around and bobbing her head in time with the thrusts -- she hated herself for it, but anything to make it all end sooner. She was losing it again, her vision darkening from the exertion, but he was far from done. And then there was a heavy weight against the base of her neck, between her shoulders. She moaned as she realized that Casey had her foot pressed there, pushing and pushing to add to the movements of her destruction. She moaned in dismay, sending a vibration down the organizer's shaft and making him freeze in place for a moment . . . deep, too deep inside her. And then she felt his fingers pinch her nostrils shut. She squirmed and slapped her mitts against the ground. Her consciousness began to fade.

It was woken again only by the sudden, warm flood as the organizer's cock began to pump. She could feel the pulse against her tongue just before her mouth immediately filled. He released her and she pulled back, coughing loudly, his cum spilling over her chin and down her neck as she tilted her head back for more air. Two more convulsions sent two more ropes of his cum arching across her face, making her close her eyes to shield them as she felt his warmth wash over nearly all of her reddened face, across her oil-imprisoned tits. She lowered her face toward the mat, a mouthful dribbling out. She couldn't see, but she could hear Casey approach. Then she could feel her opponent grab her wrists once again. She couldn't feel what was happening there -- maybe she was finally freeing her now that all was done -- but then she felt the younger woman pulling her up by her wrists locked behind her and marching her out of the ring.

Even without her sight, she knew they weren't going back to the locker room. No, they were going to the exit. Then there was the cool night air against her skin. Casey's voice was a melody behind her. "Thanks for the good time, Madi. I'd offer a rematch, but something tells me you won't be showing your . . . face around here again any time soon." Then Casey actually released her and Madison reached to wipe the cum from her face and . . . and she could only feel her wrists pulling against one another, locked, truly locked, behind her back. She did what she could to brush her face against her shoulder, but she still couldn't see. She marched slowly forward. The parking lot? It had to be. And she had to find a way outside.

And then she heard the murmurs. She still had an audience. Even without her sight, she now knew there was a red velvet rope to her left. Casey had sent her out the front and she stood in full view of the fans waiting for the chance to plead their case to the bouncer. Not knowing where she could go and not knowing what to do when she got there, Madison did her best to run and escape the sounds of flashing phones and murmured amusement.
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