The Irish Gypsy Bare Knuckle Brawl
This is my first effort to describe a realistic fight using actual fighting approaches and moves. Please correct me and suggest improvements.
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The home-style embroidered and framed saying above Tori Dupree’s bed read:
The Fists of an Irish-Gypsy Bare-Knuckle street-fighter,
The Savate of a New Orleans Brothel Whore!
my girl Tori - she makes me proud.
Her momma, dying of lethal horse-race between HIV and breast cancer, had embroidered that for her girl in the prison hospital ward of Maryland Correctional Institution for Women in Jessup. Tori’s mom was serving a life sentence in the maximum security section for gutting both her husband, (NOT Tori’s real dad, Tori’s biological father was at Pelican Bay State Prison in California), and his big titted blond bar-tending whore girlfriend with an electric Thanksgiving Turkey saw. You know the kind with 2 serrated blades that slide back and forth on each other? Her Momma, Grace, ( nee: O'Malley), had pleaded mental cruelty and diminished mental ability to distinguish right from wrong, but the prosecuting attorney for the State of Maryland had pointed out that poor crazy Grace had to string 4 extension cords together to be able to plug the knife in the kitchen and tramp all the way into the back bedroom to surprise her beloved and his slut humping on the guest-bed with a ...
“Surprise Honey, I got the day off!”
... before slicing Blondie’s throat to the spine and lopping off his cock and balls as he yanked it outta where it ought never of been in the first place!
Both cheaters seemed to have flopped around for awhile while Grace slashed away like a lady pirate scattering fingers and segments of limbs all over the carpet.
The carpet was, of course, ruined.
“We were going to have to replace it anyway” Grace sighed while on the stand. (This didn’t help her case either.)
In fact, Tori, thanks to her real dad, (a chronic Cajun low-level hustler with a sweet, if occasionally violent nature), had become a reasonably proficient street savateuse and as a Irish-Frenchy, she had growed up into her tits using her fists in brutal bare-chested bare-knuckle street fights at fairs whenever gypsies came to Baltimore ... and thus was accepted, bruised and bloodied, as a loyal Romani “Traveller”.
And that is why she stood waiting for the girl she was going to fight, naked to the waist, arms crossed under her breasts, her well worn skin tights jeans tucked into her boots. Tori stood in a circle made by a wildly drunken crowd of all ages on the monster-truck rut churned dirt and piss-yellowed grass of the old baseball diamond between the ferris-wheel and the line of 5-balls-for-a dollar “win your honey this 5 foot bunny!”, fortune-teller and foreign food booths set up in a ring around the gypsy-circus and carnival.
Even though the sun was going down behind the factories of Shitsburg, it was 90˚ and humid enough so it looked like a sudden squall had hosed down the drunks, and housewives and screaming kids and out of work day-laborers and god know who. The Gypsy Carnival was in full riot, with all the child-like South American couples and guys from the Army base and their Senior-Year Summer teenaged whores carrying on like it was New Years’ Eve, not some traveling one tent flea ridden circus and attending hustlers and tattooed and pin-festooned freaks blowing through town, sucking up all the loose change to be had.
The crowd hushed and parted and a college girl gone bad, about 3 inches taller then Tori broke into the center of the circle peeling off her tee-shirt and little sheer bra and stood facing Tori, pumping her long arms, making fists and shaking out her straight brown hair to limber up. Tori took in her well defined biceps and six-pack abs... this was no crack-whore, this was a college-girl probably out of a volley-ball or base-ball team with aerobics on the schedule featuring cardio-kick-boxing.
“...hey, I’m Kelly, Kelly Sheen” she said nodding to Tori. Like Tori she was wearing well-warn, pliant, limb hugging blue-jeans tucked into her boots. “I’m ready whenever you are”.
Tori nodded, to come back from her surprise at the taller girl’s composure she said with a forced light hearted laugh “Figg’s Rules?”
Kelly laughed, “we fight, no rest periods, until one of us can’t go on?” Then threw back her head. “‘fraid I’ll gouge your eyes out, or chew off your ear?”
“Tori hissed, “fuck you, sister.”
“I ain’t your sister, sister.” Kelly drawled, mocking her street accent, “And my father was the boxing coach at the police academy in Annapolis, so I learned my boxing history from the same man that taught me to fight.” Kelly went smoothly into a boxer’s stance, feet planted, fists in front of her face, hunched list to bring her eyes down to Tori’s eyes level. Smiling a small smile to put a poker face on her thoughts, Tori went into the classic stance and studied her enemy over her knuckles, like they were a gun-site. Suddenly a burst of shouts distracted them. Both girls dropped their fists as a rowdy mob of varsity jacket wearing college oafs burst to the inner face of the circle, waving beer bottles and cheering.
“Guys, I’m trying to have a fight here!” Kelly chided her “fans” with an exhausted sigh. “Sorry” she said to Tori - then all human emotion drained from her Hollywood-pretty face, (she had Cindy Crawford’s face and figure, but no mole! Re-centered, she turned like a tank’s cannon turret towards her moving target. Her lips pulled back over her teeth in a silent snarl. Now the two sweating, muscular, female animals raised their fists and focussed on each other, beginning to circle inward, as if drawn to the center by a rotating pulley with ropes tethered to each half-naked girl.
Jab! Kelly’s right fist shot into the air in front of Tori’s face as Tori pushed up her fists into a cover up as she began to bob. But in lightning succession a half- dozen jabs made her pull away and drop looking for a break to hurl herself into a clinch where she could use her powerful torso and lower body so as take it to the ground.
A jab tapped her forehead and she began to plant her self in place and turn as the other girl began circling her pattering her with light jabs just powerful enough to sting and distract her. A camera flask flashed. And...
Tori swarmed into the shit storm, Kelly’s jabs turning into heartless hammers on the sides of her head and ribs, battering her on her legs like a car shuddering over rail-road trestles, bobbing and weaving looking for the other girl’s rib-cage with savage uppercuts that glanced off left and right as the limber taller girl slipped away from side to side.
FUCK! Tori lunged throwing all her momentum into a left uppercut intended to snap a floating rib and bring the other girl’s blazing guard down when WHAM!
Wham! A left cross to her right temple dropped her to her knees, thwack! Kelly’s left knee shot up at her chin - a shot her crossed forearms bare blocked, but the momentum pitched her onto her back.
Now Kelly, not even cracking a smile for that first taste of victory, danced agilely around Tori, forcing Tori to press her shoulders into the dirt and kick away at the standing girl. Tori wrenched herself painfully around in a circle in the gravelly dried mud but Kelly kept her pinned down, trying to rattle her.
And Tori knew it! But twisting to the side to roll to her feet would leave her flank exposed with no counter attack!
Suddenly she slowed just a second to gasp a raspy lungful and Kelly was instantly dropping down onto her.
Tori curled and fired her feet into Kelly’s naked chest, hurtling her up and back and onto her feet. Two back steps for balance and Kelly was charging forward again. But this gave Tori the moment she needed to desperately get back on her feet and get her fucking fists up in front of her.
No reprieve! Kelly instantly waded forward - her jabs were fully powered now, and sprinkled with a bewildering cross and upper cut combinations. Every punch had two sisters riding its slipstream. She was GOOD.
Tori staggered back catching most blows on her shoulders or forearms, The crowd went wild, smelling a kill! But Kelly’s attack gave Tori snapshots of exposed ribs and abs and Tori was suddenly in her in her harsh natural element, a merciless in-fight of brawling upper cuts and crosses.
Surge, counter-surge, surge, counter-surge, the two naked-to-the-waist blue-jeaned girls bore down on each other in a violent tidal crescendo of battle. Both girl’s faces were purpling masks of splattering blood, swinging drool and eye-stinging sweat, eyes that were already egging shut.
Tori saw Kelly’s wet head, went for it with a right, but Kelly side-stepped, absorbed only half the blow and counter punched, crossing Tori’s eyes and spinning her around. Tori dropped to her knees, gasping, wet hair wrapped like seaweed around her face blinding her. The crowd seemed to be cheering from a stadium miles away.
OOOF! Kelly landed on Tori’s back, slamming her tummy down into the dirt, wrapping her bare arms around Tori’s head, yanking back so hard her neck almost snapped. But Tori went into “The Space”, driving her left arm up between Kelly’s crossed arms and her throat, and with her right arm she reached back and grabbed Kelly’s left thigh, rolling Kelly onto her back and twisting her wet head down and out of Kelly’s strangle hold.
Tori rage upward like a sounding whale dragging a kraken up from the sea’s black depths, and straddling Kelly’s waist, drove her left forearm murderously down across Kelly’s throat, instantly shutting off her air supply. Spreading her blue-jeaned legs wide to maintain her dominance, Tori began savagely pounding away at Kelly’s face and head with close-up machine-like bare-knuckle punches.
Keeping her cool, even as she began to black out, brains starved for air and scrambled from the hammering fists, Kelly twisted and thrashed her legs, trying to get a leg outside of Tori’s spread. She covered her head with one arm and yanked at the choking arm with the other. She bucked and bucked but arching her back was a brutal drain on her dwindling energy.
In a fit of desperation, Kelly drove her fingers into Tori’s armpits, stabbing the nerve in each with an iron dagger spike. Tori roared, dropping her elbows to her ribs, releasing Kelly, who gasping slithered free and to her feet, backpetalling away to buy time.
But, still roaring, Tori sprang up, and exploded forward, plowing into the slender college girl with a hail-storm, up-close-and-personal, barrage of steel fists into her wet breasts and lower ribs.
Blood spewing from her torn mouth and nostrils after a surprise combination to her face, Tori just shook her head and launched a full body cross to the lower right side of Kelly’s ribs, that even in the roar of the crowd - she could hear as well feel the sharp, quick snaps of the floating rib. Eyes contorted with pain, Kelly dropped her left fist just for a heartbeat.
But in that heartbeat Tori lunged up and crossed with a side to the temple that locked Kelly’s eyes.
Fluidly Tori rocked back and undulated forward with an uppercut that straitened Kelly up onto her toes, and followed through with a flurry of rights and lefts that only served to snap the already cross-eyed and K.O.ed college girl’s head back and forth as her dead weight dropped her to the ground!
Tori roared and raised her blood fists in the newly night sky over her bloody head, wet bruised breasts heaving, gasping like a beached fish and grinning like a fool.
Kelly’s cheerleaders looked crest-fallen.
Suddenly the crowd hushed. Kelly was on her hands and knees, crawling back to her gaggle of boy friends. Weaving drunkenly, face swollen and purple, eyes squinted shut, she pulled two beers out of a cooler.
Kelly tottered on her feet, panting and shaking. But she bit off both bottle tops and astoundingly shuffled back to the amazed Tori.
She paused then nodding her wet head, gave Tori a beer.
“Good fight.”
The young women hugged and washed the rusty taste of blood out of their mouths with ice cold beer. The cheer cleared away the clouds over the field of battle. The first stars shone.
In the surrounding darkness a long black limousine parked in deep shadows, where even darker hearts within had been observing the fight.
Later, when Tori, drunk and surrounded by new friends, bid them all good bye with hugs and sloppy kisses, then walked home alone, singing to herself and stumbling, the limousine slithered out of its stillness after her, like a shark in the deep waters that sometimes wait close to shore.
Re: The Irish Gypsy Bare Knuckle Brawl
ted ..you are my favorite writer,but this forum has gone soft..i dont know how much input you have on this..or if there is pressure on yourself and the other writers to write sugar coated non fatal stuff,but this forum is not any different than any other catfighting forum on hostboard...shame..for the explicitly detailed brutal stories hardly exist anymore...this forum used to be unique to a specific form of female fighting..it used to stand apart from the pack.. :(
Re: The Irish Gypsy Bare Knuckle Brawl
Quote:
if there is pressure on yourself and the other writers to write sugar coated non fatal stuff,
Whew.... I take a wild swing at little web research and experiment in trying to put up my dukes and put on a fight with actual boxing strategy and moves - and get a TKO I never saw coming. Better I avoid the ring!
But to take a short jab at an answer. The best way to generate material you like is to write some yourself and people like me might get inspired to write similar stuff themselves. I don't know how many "dry spells" have be broken for me by some really hot writing here.
Also - some of my best works have had THOUSANDS of views and maybe 1 or 2 responses. This goes for the real heavyweights here, MrCage, Sega and several others.
http://www.pornarcotic.com/st/thumbs/046/0605439535.jpghttp://www.boingboing.net/images/x_2...alportrait.jpghttp://www.amateurindex.com/gallerie...amateur-12.jpg:cool:
NOTE: Short pieces here get thank yous for the effort. Maybe I should do a challenge. 4 previous lurkers do short bloody fight tales, and I'll buy a thermos of coffee and listen to some Norwegian Speed Metal Rock Opera and do something harsh and sexy.
Re: The Irish Gypsy Bare Knuckle Brawl
I liked it!! short, brutal with a happy ending :)
Re: The Irish Gypsy Bare Knuckle Brawl
Always one hell of a writer, Ted. Enjoyed every second of it and look forward to more as usual. By the way, the blonde with the large breasts is Mandy Morbib and she is quite the porn star. I would LOVE to see her in a story, the more violent the better! Thanks again.
Re: The Irish Gypsy Bare Knuckle Brawl
Here's a lurker cumming out of his hiding place thanks to another very good story - for once ending in friendship. Possibly for a tag team against those lez bike chicks in the club bar at the Shitsburg road junction to Tentpole?
Sorry, but not even you is being able to lift up my writing, throbbing vein...
Re: The Irish Gypsy Bare Knuckle Brawl
