Story of Renee- Chapter 12 by Mr. Cage

**cage** · May 6th, 2004, 09:09 PM

WARNING: This is a fantasy of extreme nature about violent, brave, lusty people who are willing to personally suffer the consequences or reap the rewards of their actions with out regards to the norms of modern society or the qualms of conscious. Don?t read it if you are not interested in such topics or at all squeamish. Also, make sure you are mature enough to know the difference between illusion and reality. This is not a how to book.

THE STORY OF RENEE by Mr. Cage as related by Renee

Chapter Twelve ? War Games

The brass knuckles round was bruising but not deadly for our compound. I won my fight against another tall skinny African girl. Apparently there was a group of men out there that wanted to see blonde versus black fights. My 36As and belly were black after the fight and my right nipple was gashed. The doctor put in two stitches and said he?d pull them before the next round. I went back to the sex rooms and did my best to take six or seven patrons a day. Of course my opponent was on her back earning me points as well.

Of the other six girls in my compound all six won their fights. They had been matched against a number of third world women and none of them had much experience with fist fighting or even seeing how to throw a fist from the distance. That?s not to say they weren?t all hurt. One woman had a broken rib, but of course she would be fighting the next week anyway. So our little group of seven had apparently reached the hard core.

The next round was surprising easy and good for us. It was a straight stand-up boxing round with trunks, socks and shoes. The only wrinkle from professional bout was that we were topless and the five minute rounds were unlimited until a KO. The slave element was continued and this time we won four out of seven fights, including my own. Our three losers had the misfortune of fighting a hard hitting Japanese woman, a New York black girl and a Russian who was obviously an experienced boxer. Despite the growing list of injuries, bruises, pulled muscles, swollen faces, busted lips and discolored skin we were in fighting shape for our graduation. Now it all depended on who we were matched against. The key factor was how many because after this brutal proving period anyone who survived was tough and or lucky.

In preparation for this gang war fight we were again treated to a special battle between two groups of girls procured from girl?s detention centers. There were no descriptions or names offered only numbers, massed numbers. One team was composed of one hundred Japanese girls and I mean girls. I would have guessed they were all in junior high, but I don?t know if they have junior high there and I?m never sure about the age of Asian females. The other team was composed of one hundred African girls from somewhere in western Africa. This was a fight with weapons: bicycle chains, broken glass bottle parts, rocks, short pipes, long wooden sticks, thicker shorter wooden sticks, brass knuckles, stock whips, riding crops and leather straps. The arena was much larger, a sixty by twenty foot rectangular concrete floor area enclosed by a six foot high chain link fence with double doors in the middle of both smaller sides. Four levels of wooden benches lined the sides, but only thirty or so Japanese men, ten Africans and maybe forty others from neutral territory stood right along the fence shouting and yelling bets back and forth.
I was surprised to see maybe forty women mixed into the crowd. It was outdoors and the sky was overcast. There were bright lights and cameras on poles all around the arena. I wondered if they would call the fight because of rain.

Before the fight started the spectators got to throw glass bottles into the fighting area covering the concrete with broken glass. Then they were allowed to toss the weapons into the field of battle. They Japanese tossed most of the weapons on the north end the rectangle and the Africans covered the southern end. Before it was done the concrete was covered in broken glass and weapons of mayhem. The girls were to be sent in twenty at a time every five minutes until both teams were fully engaged. The fight was to the finish and finish meant one team unmoving and stripped naked.

The stripping part was apparently very important, which was surprising since most of our fights had been nude or partially clothed. Instead, this time the girls were dressed in school girl uniforms. The Japanese girls had on blue blazers, white blouses with red ties, blue skirts, white socks and black shoes. The African girls had on plaid blazers, white blouses with green ties, plaid skirts, white socks and green shoes. It looked like a bad movie named Catholic Girl?s School Gone Bad. I don?t what crime these young ladies had committed, but I?m sure none of them expected a death sentence. The winners would be released from their prisons and share in the prize which we were told translated to one million dollars or at least ten thousand a piece if everyone on the winning side lived.

The whistle sounded and we were treated to a multiple screened view of the rectangular arena. Both doors opened and twenty screaming girls entered from both ends. The Japanese girls moved forward in a phalanx gathering up weapons. The girls in front favored long sticks and those in the second rank picked up rocks, chains, pipes and brass knuckles. The African?s raced forward gathering anything they could grab. They started throwing rocks. The Japanese girls tried to bat the rocks away, but more than one girl was hit with a rock. Two girls dropped their weapons and grabbed their faces.

A Japanese girl yelled something that sounded like a war scream and the eighteen of them rushed forward in a unit, sticks leveled like spears. I had seen pictures of Japanese school girls being trained with kendo sticks at the end of War World II on the history channel. Apparently this cultural trait had continued. They looked like they knew what they were doing or at least they had clearly planned to attack as a unit. The African girls scattered, but the ones in front of the charge got caught hard. The blunt sticks still hurt and I saw four or five girls take one in the belly, chest or face. Once the black girls went down the Japanese girls started beating them with their sticks. I was stunned by the loud screaming coming from the determined Japanese girls. The black girls attacked to save their downed members and the Japanese girls without sticks counterattacked with their striking weapons.

The action was too fast and furious to follow. Girls went down and got stomped, kicked or struck, but then the attacker would be struck and the battle would move off in the opposite direction. The downed girl would get up, sometimes dripping blood and attack again. The fight went back and forth with the Japanese girls fighting as a unit and the African girls trying to fight individual contests. The early result was in favor of the blue blazer Japanese girls. Their stick work put black after black on the ground where tiny feet stomped and kicked.

Still it wasn?t one sided. A cute tiny little Japanese girl went down hard when a taller black girl smashed her flush in the face with a pipe. Once she fell to her knees, her forehead busted open; the black girl cracked her hard across the top of the head with the pipe. The girl fell face down and didn?t move. The black girl was then hit across the side of the head with a long stick. The blow hurt and sent her staggering but the sticks were limber and not weighted. The furious battle continued with more black girls down than Japanese.

The whistle sounded and the doors opened again to produce a second wave. The Japanese girl?s war cry sounded and they rushed to attack the back of the black girls who had tried to surround the initial phalanx. The fresh Africans tried to attack head on. Soon they too were grabbing long sticks and a blunt spear battle broke out on the south side of the Japanese formation. The long range fighting allowed ten Japanese girls to hold off more than twenty black girls for a period of time while the remainder of the blue blazer girls double and tripled teamed the black girls from the first attack who had allowed themselves to be separated from their companions.

The weight of the attacking Africans finally began to drop the Japanese long stick fighters. Now the front line moved backwards over the bodies of girls already badly hurt. A yell seemed to signal a change as the fresher Japanese girls left the busted up bodies of their targets, grabbed sticks or threw rocks and joined their weakening front line. I tried to take a body count but it was impossible. I guessed that for every Japanese girl down and bleeding there were two black girls in similar or worse condition.

The whistle blew again. Now their were a hundred and twenty fighting school girls and the battle stretched from one side of the rectangle to the other as well as swirled around in a melee in the middle. One camera zoomed in on a tiny Japanese girl near the fence. Her forehead was split open and her blouse had been ripped open. Her legs were bloody from being cut by the glass and concrete fighting surface, but she had a heavy black girl against the fence. A bicycle chain was wrapped around the black girl?s neck. Her right eye was pouring blood like it had been hit with a stick or gouged. Her nose was pouring blood and her bottom lip had been torn open exposing broken teeth. I watched the battle as the African slowly died. As they struggled in their small little bubble I could see fights going on all around them. The whistle blew and forty more fighters rushed into the now bloody body strewn arena.

The tiny Japanese girl tied the chain off through the links keeping the dead black girl tied in place on her knees. Then she started stripping the girl. I mumbled that was not a good use of time. Just as she stripped off the bloody blazer and red stained white blouse, a black hand flashed from behind and grabbed the victorious Japanese girl?s flowing black hair. The Japanese screamed and was dragged backwards from her trophy. A tall skinny black girl jammed a broken half bottle into the pale yellow tinged girl?s face ripping open her cheek. The tiny girl screamed and twisted away delivering a perfect defensive side kick into the African?s belly. Just then a stick hit the attacking girl flush across the back of the head.

I looked at another camera angle and saw a relatively tall Japanese girl being stripped nude by two Africans. Her head was split open and her face looked like it had been repeated hit with a chained wrapped fist. She was limp, bloody and soon naked. That wasn?t enough. The two girls used pipes to beat her breasts and then they stomped on her nearly hairless sex. Just as the two grew tired of the brutalization the victorious African?s were charged by five Japanese girls wielding pipes and shorter heavier sticks as clubs. Soon two black bodies were laying crisscross the nude Japanese girl. The five stripped the two quickly. When one of them held up her hand for mercy she got a bottle thrust into her throat. A spray of bloody covered everybody. Two of my fellow blondes gasped and ran for the bathroom.

The whistle blew and now a hundred and sixty screaming fighting girls were battling. Following individual battles was almost impossible. As soon as two girls would square off one or both of them would be ambushed by others. I watched as the fresh group of Japanese girls stood off as a unit, armed themselves and proceeded forward in lock step to the west chain link wall. They methodically attacked individual African?s or small groups. Soon there was a trail of broken black girls lying behind their line of attack. The African?s finally reacted and stormed the formation and soon it was a mix master melee of screaming girls, tangled arms and legs, flashing sticks, bloody pipes, flying rocks, whips, chains and every other thing they could use.
The whistle blew again and the last wave hit. There were now two hundred desperate fighters in the arena. The audience was holding the fence and screaming encouragement. Women ran along the fence shouting instructions to their selected fighters just like soccer moms on a Saturday morning kids? league. The level of noise must have been deafening because it came through the speakers loud enough to cause us to wish we had a volume control. The Japanese girls screamed like banshees.

The number of girls down was probably in the forties now. Several of those weren?t moving, but the majority was still showing signs of life. I followed an African with a nasty gash on her forehead, stripped to the waist, missing one shoe sliding on her ass trying to protect the leg missing the shoe. When the camera was right I could see that someone must have kneecapped her with a pipe or rock because her right knee was bleeding badly and about twice the size of the left one. She held a stick in her right hand to ward off attackers. A Japanese girl missing her blazer and both shoes was sitting against the cage holding her face. I don?t know what was wrong but her blood soaked her blouse and still dripped through her fingers. Even as the standing girls fought fallen girls at their feet tried to escape further punishment. It was the saddest most desperate scene yet.

A very tall black girl was swinging a chain in a circle above her head keeping three screaming Japanese girls at bay. Each of the Japanese girls had bloody faces and torn blouses. The black girl was naked to the waist and bleeding from a number of wounds. One of the Japanese girls lunged forward with a pipe and took the swirling chain straight in the face. She screamed and fell to the side, blood flying from her busted forehead. The other two charged. The bigger black girl grabbed one girl?s hair and forced her head down. The other girl got blocked. I thought the African might escape, but suddenly she screamed. The girl whose head was down had driven her short stick up between the African?s legs. The taller black girl hammered the girl violating her on the back of the neck with the chain and her fist. The girl fell down and the stick clattered on the ground. The remaining Japanese girl struck forward with a pipe and hit the black girl in the center of her head. The tall girl fell like a switched off robot. The Japanese girl jumped on top of the fallen African, knees digging into the black belly and proceeded to hammer the fallen girl in the face with the pipe.

As blood spattered the Japanese girl screamed and started to deliver another pipe shot. She was suddenly smashed in the face by a long wooden stick. The blow knocked her off the unconscious and possibly dead African. As the new black girl raised her stick for another blow, she was tackled from behind by a screaming Japanese school girl. The two fell forward across two other bodies and began struggling for superiority. The African won the battle when she jammed her index finger deep into the Japanese girl?s right eye. As the black girl crawled on top she reached for a rock to strike the writhing Japanese girl with. But now the girl who had been chain whipped was up. She had taken a long stick and snapped off its end leaving her with a jagged end. It wasn?t much of a point but when she jammed it with full force into the African sitting on her compatriot?s belly, the point sank in and speared the black girl in the belly. She grabbed the shaft of the improvised spear and held it. The attacker pressed forward and drove the black girl onto her back. Then the screaming Japanese school girl leaned down on the stick and drove it into the black girl?s vitals.

And so the battle continued. The blur of the battle overwhelmed my senses. I turned to look at the screaming spectators. You could see their twisted faces yelling at the top of their lungs, spit flying from their lips. I wondered it they were this savage in their real lives. I imagined them teaching school, getting their kids ready in the morning, drinking coffee at lunch talking about nothing important, giving to charities and pledging tot help the homeless. My opinion of myself had been going down ever since I started the journey, but now I found my opinion of humankind going down faster. In fact, as I watched the spectators I think my disgust in myself was passed on the fly by my disgust in the human race. Fuckers, why don?t you get in there and fight!

More and more I saw many two and three on one battles, always with the Japanese girls outnumbering the African?s. I looked at the full arena from a pull back camera mounted over the north end. It was clear that the number of black girls on the ground and out of the fight was higher that that of the yellow girls. It was coming close to the tipping point when the battle was over and only the slaughter remained. I guess it must have been like this in ancient times when armies hacked and slashed at each other for hours until one side broke and the slaughter began.

I focused on two black girls fighting back to back with chains in one hand and pipes in the other. They were being harried by six Japanese girls armed with a variety of weapons. One of the black girls lunged forward and connected to a Japanese girl?s temple. The pipe hit just above the ear and the girl went down in a heap. Blood quickly matted her hair. She didn?t move. Now it was five on two. Then a black hand reached up from the ground and tripped one of the Japanese girls. The hand belonged to a black girl who was down to her socks covered in cuts and gashes. Her head was bloody and it looked like somebody had ripped open her face with a broken bottle, but she wasn?t finished yet.

The Japanese girl fell to the side. She rolled over to face her attacker and took stick across the bridge of her nose. Her nose shattered and blood spurted out across her face. She moaned but somehow grabbed the stick and held onto it. The African girl tried to crawl on top but took it black shoe to the face. The two girls rolled together and began to claw at one another as the fight continued around them. In fact they were disturbed more than once as fighters from both sides stepped on them. The solitary life and death struggle ended when the African choked the Japanese girl out with both hands as the Japanese girl ripped at the wounds on the African?s face and head. It was that kind of fight to the finish. Even the wounded were going at one another to the bitter end.

I looked back and saw that the now four on two battle had progressed to where the black girls were trapped against the fence being struck with rocks, pipes, feet and chains, as they continued to fight back with their pipes and chains. All six girls were wet with each other?s blood. One of the Japanese girls staggered backwards bleeding from a newly opened gash above her eye. She screamed and ripped off her blazer. I wondered why, but then she used the blazer like a net and rushed forward and flung it over one of the trapped girl?s head. The girl threw it off, but not before another girl succeeded in cracking flush on the crown of her head with a pipe. The girl went down in a heap against the fence. Her compatriot tried to protect her, but now all four Japanese girls fell on her. The girl was amazing because she managed to knock one of her attackers down and trapped another?s head under her arm. But the other two savaged her and trapped her arms. The knocked down girl got up with a broken bottle in her hand. She ripped open the African?s bloody blouse. The black girl screamed and struggled but the weight on her arms kept her pinned. The Japanese girl with the bottle screamed some kind of shrill war cry and used the bottle on the black girl?s small breasts.

The battle had become a rout. I scanned around the various views and saw fallen black girl?s being stripped and beaten when they tried to move. The number of nude black girls was clearly growing and the number of fallen black girls had become critical. It was all over but the slaughter and the slaughter continued for another twenty or thirty minutes. In the end sixty two bloody, partially stripped Japanese girls were standing abusing the downed Africans when they were declared victorious. Twenty-three others had to be helped to their feet or carried off the field of battle. In the end there were one hundred and fifteen bodies on the blood drenched concrete together with blazers, shoes, blouses, socks and the remains of the war. I took one last look at the field of battle. Just then it started to rain. How nice for the clean up crew!

Betty, one of the whores who had become my bedmate, mumbled, ?This is fucking hell isn?t it. It will never stop will it??

Teresa, our prison butch dagger dyke, snorted, ?Don?t go weepy on us girl. I don?t know what they?ve got planned for us, but I intend to live through it.?

I heartily agreed. There was no point in doing anything but fighting all out and trying to survive. There simply was no alternative. I was reminded of the time as a child my mother told my father to put our dog out of his misery. The dog had gotten hit by a car. My father said something to the effect that the dog looked to be doing everything it could to prolong the misery. My father took him to the vet and the dog lasted two more years. I only had to last another year and then I could settle accounts with my good friend Linda.

That night we found out our next fight was going to be a serial team fight against a team of eight Chinese women. We would be selected by lot and enter a cage one at a time and fight for five minutes before either woman submit. If both women survived the five minutes then you could submit and escape momentarily. The cost of submission would be being cuffed to the cage while the next woman on your team took your place in the fight. Then a new five minute no submission period would begin. As each woman was eliminated she was to be handcuffed to the cage. Those who were handcuffed could be targeted and could interfere with the ongoing fight. Once an entire team had been gone through the battle, the first one cuffed from that team would be freed to fight on. The battle would continue until one team had been eliminated and eliminated meant dead. You could be killed during the five minute no submission period or while you were cuffed to the cage.

We reviewed their fighting statistics and found they had been matched primarily against other Asians, particularly Indians, Thais, Indonesians and Vietnamese. We weren?t up first so we watched four other battles. Six Jews outlasted five Arabs. Six Turks killed five Greeks. A strong Russian team of eight finished off five Chechens, even though three of the Russians died. And eight blacks from the USA killed seven Japanese girls probably winning back some of the money lost in the school girl war.

We were up next. Our hurts and wounds had healed somewhat but we all were covered in bruises, cuts, gashes and bites. My right arm was sore and my ribs were still aching from the metal fists. My 36A tits were black and swollen and hot to the touch. My right eye was still puffy and my lips were still swollen. My hair was uneven and missing in places. We all looked like we had been in a war and I guess we had, but now we were going to war again. Our selected enemy seemed smaller on average and just as injured. Hopefully our size and strength would overcome their numerical advantage of one. Well there was nothing left to worry about. We were up first tomorrow and I would either live or die and what came after would only be important once I knew there was going to be an after.

This is the end of another chapter. The next one will be long and probably delayed. Perhaps it will be the end of Renee?s story and perhaps not. I haven?t decided yet. Once again this was a suggested idea. Mass fights are hard to right and this one was a war. I hope I caught the flavor of what a confused melee this would be. I could have made it a hundred pages long, but it would have been overkill, literally and figuratively. As always comments and suggestions welcomed.