Retired???

**Shindy** · May 3rd, 2011, 12:18 AM

Rachel Gibson lay naked on the bed in her room, the warm sea breeze wafting across her body. Her long chestnut hair draped gently over her shoulders, framing her regal cheekbones and brilliant blue eyes. Her full D cup breasts fell to the sides, the way natural breasts do and she gently massaged the neatly trimmed narrow strip of hair that led the way directly to her womanly drive. Her abs were flat and firm, punctuated only by the piercing in her navel. Her hips were wide and tapered perfectly into long, shapely legs which carried her 5'9" frame.

She held the remote in her unoccupied hand as her breathing intermittently crescendoed and decrescendoed, her chest rising and falling in rhythm. She watched the battle repeatedly, the heated intensity between the fighters, the struggling female forms tearing into one another, punching, clawing and trying to destroy her foe. It aroused her intensely, the sweat, the blood, the pain and raw nature of the entire scene. It compelled her to reminisce, to drift into her own dream as her sex oozed from between her legs and onto her bed.

It had begun 7 years earlier, when as a junior in college she had taken up a job as an "exotic dancer" in a local club. The pay was outstanding--she made over 700 bucks a week in cash and the hours were perfect. Rachel was a hothead though and one night she and another dancer--a tattooed goth freak (at least that was what Rachel had verbally called her) got into an altercation. The crowd expected an ass-kicking--Rachel was perceived as the sterotypical suburban college girl about to get a comeuppance from the badass townie biker chick. What the crowd got was much different.

It was a tough fight--but Rachel ultimately pounded the girl into oblivion, finally being pulled off of her foe by two bouncers. Rachel had taken some good shots but never blinked--and all while wearing nothing more than a sequin-covered G-string. The result of growing up the youngest of 7 children in a tough neighborhood, the chestnut brown haired woman had never shied away from a fight and had certainly had her share of sisterly ass-kickings. Needless to say, as she was collecting her things after being fired, another dancer walked up to her and gave her a card. "Call this number." she had said, "And keep an open mind."

The phone number had introduced Rachel to her "career". She began fighting other women for money all over the country at first, then, as her reputation grew, she began getting invitations all over the world. At age 26, 4 years into the endeavor, Rachel had remained undefeated, having won 27 fights and having saved over 750,000 dollars.

That's not to say that Rachel hadn't gotten her ass kicked--because she had, several times. Rachel's reputation was for the girl who never quit. In fact, Rachel had won a fight after suffering a broken rib and a fractured collar bone at the hands of a big german girl.

The number of fights increased to almost 1/month and the number of requests was more than 3 times that. She was able to increase her fee. She was now demanding a minimum of 10,000 dollars/fight and as much as 40,000. She bought a small villa one of the carribean islands and bought a membership in a charter jet program. Two and half more years brought another 30 fights and another million dollars in savings. Rachel was 28 years old and worth nearly two million dollars. She took the money, put 1 million in investments and split the other million into other interests. Many people suggested that she quit, but she remained undefeated and she loved it--the intensity, the challenge, the travel and the competition all got her excited.

She remembered one recent phone call from a 73 year old man who had taken up with a self-proclaimed "hot bitch" in a suburb of Atlanta. The "younger woman" was 31 years old and decided that she would entertain her new husband (and his interest in catfighting) by hiring another woman to fight. Rachel wasn't in the mood, having just recently fought, but they ultimately offered her 50,000 dollars win or lose. Rachel went and the woman was gorgeous, with straight dark hair and the body of a fitness model, and for a moment Rachel thought it might be a competitive fight but once they began, Rachel just tore her limb from limb. Rachel ended up breaking the woman's jaw, rupturing both of her implants and leaving her sobbing. The husband had eaten the whole thing up.

It was two months later, exactly, when she had gotten the call from Ricky Neumann. He wanted Rachel to fight his wife, Heather. The problem was that they didn't have a lot of money, but they had a deal. They could scrape up the 10,000 minimum, but they wanted to video the fight and sell it. If Rachel agreed to the fight and the video, they would split it with her 50-50. Rachel asked what the catch was, and they said there were two: 1. They thought Heather could beat Rachel and 2. They needed to get Heather some visibility so that she could start marketing herself more and they knew that fighting and beating Rachel would open a lot of doors.

Rachel asked the obvious question, "what happened if Heather lost" Ricky responded that she would still benefit from the exposure. Something about the whole thing intrigued Rachel, and so she agreed to fly to Kansas City and meet the woman. Ricky had given a few more details--it would NHB, no weapons, totally nude. Rachel was fine with that. He was going to lock the two women in an empty room and they were going to fight until one of them was able to escape through the locked door.

Rachel thought that was fascinating setup and agreed. When Rachel got to the Neumann's she was disappointed. Heather was absolutely stunning, with straight blonde hair, vibrant blue eyes, big breasts and shapely hips and legs. Plus, she was NICE!! She offered Rachel a drink and then called for her husband to come and entertain Rachel while she went and changed.

The pleasantries done with, the two women went to the room. Ricky reviewed the instructions again and the two women disrobed and entered the roughly 15' by 15' foot windowless room. Rachel studied Heather. Naked, Heather's potential athleticisim was much more obvious, a tasteful tatoo decorated her hip and her muscles rippled as she walked. Rachel also noted the cameras--part of the deal--one in each of the four upper corners.

Ricky screamed through the door--he would only be watching through the monitors--to get started. That was all the two women needed. In a tangle of limbs, crushed breasts and flailing legs, the two hellcats dove at each other and the fight was on....