Bridal Suite Battles (Part 1)

WARNING: This is an extreme fantasy with absolutely no founding in reality. If extremish violence and/or fatal-finish combat disturb you then do not read further, seriously.

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Sheri was on top of the world. Standing in the honeymoon suite of the city's ritziest hotel. She had even put her bridal gown back on once again, although it had been practically torn off her ample curves several times already by her as-of-this-day husband.

Out of the thirty two women (pro-catfighters all, although of very disparate skill levels) chosen to fight over her man Milo, by him himself, Sheri had eventually won out. It had been a long tournament, with fights one after another, each round a week apart so that the fighters could heal up between bouts. Only the final fight was a sanctioned deathmatch, but twelve fighters still lost their lives in the gruelling matches that took place, Sheri proudly killing two with sudden blows before taking her time to execute her final foe.

Now, with the fighting world abuzz with her success, Sheri got to truly enjoy it. Since her wedding this morning (the final fight had been last night), Sheri had done nothing but fuck, suck and take copious amounts of "vigour drugs" to keep going. Now, with Milo out of the room for a bit, she caught up on the world outside.

Standing in front of a massive television, the busty brunette giggled as she watched a crystal clear image of herself smash a frizzy haired redhead over and over again into a turnbuckle. A cartoonish splat echoed each hit as an announcer laughingly pointed out that the redhead had pissed in her panties. The video Sheri stopped when it looked like the redhead was about to pass out, at which point she'd be stopped from inflicting further torture.

Sheri rubbed her lace covered crotch as she listened to the redhead beg for mercy, gasping with elation as her video self ignored it entirely and, grabbing the whining bitch by her wet crotch, hurled her from the ring face first. The video's sound effect of a wet crunch were not that far off from Sheri's own memories of the sound the redhead's skull had actually made when it struck against the pavement below the ring. Hitting the remote's repeat button, Sheri watched the killing blow several dozen times at various speeds.

Turning off the TV, the flushed brunette threw away the remote in frustration, Milo had been gone for nearly twenty minutes. He had said he wanted to get her a surprise (and some time for more vigour drugs to kick in), which Sheri desperately hoped meant he was bringing back another woman. While the ideal would be for Milo to return with one of the opponent's Sheri had "failed" to kill, any KO'd tournament fighter would do. In this perfectly private place, Sheri could fight, torture and execute one of the enemies she had surely made by winning. From what she'd heard, two of the fighters were already "mysteriously" dead, and she had no doubt she'd be in imminent danger till every one was buried, whether their deaths were legal or not.

Checking out that her white gown was in immaculate shape, Sheri struck several mock victory poses in the wall length mirror. Her favourite was the hands on hips, one leg posed forward, oh so daintily on or between the breasts of a beaten opponent, and later tonight she would have one of those.

When she heard the outer door, Sheri stopped making faces at herself and turned towards the entrance. Hands on hips and chest thrust out, she glowered at whoever was waiting on the other side of the door. The glare would work equally well on either her opponent, or the man who had left her horny and waiting.

Much to Sheri's surprise, she did not recognise the woman who walked through the door.

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The blonde that walked through the door wore a black dress (which Sheri immediately hated upon seeing its slim waistline) and a wicked smile. One gloved hand was wiping an easily recognisable fluid from the corner of her curved smile.

Sheri shrieked "Who the fuck are you?" at the confident looking blonde as Milo walked into the room behind her. He was uncharacteristically flaccid, as the blonde slut had clearly just sucked him dry in the hall, the drugs would refill him in minutes.

"Just the woman that's gonna make you regret winning that little tourney." The blonde slowly made her way around the couch separating them, Sheri saw she wore black heels that perfectly countered her own white pumps.

Sheri stomped on the hardwood floor with her pumps, enraged, "I killed three bitches in those fights! What have you done?" With sudden clarity she recognised the blonde, Shyla, an embarrassment to the proud female fighters that filled the city.

With even greater fury than when Shyla had insulted her tournament wins, Sheri stabbed an accusing finger at the blonde and her shit-eating grin. "You're not even a fighter! You're just a- Just a WHORE!" While the word got thrown around by fighters a lot, Sheri meant it. Shyla's winnings could be counted on one hand, after years as a registered fighter. Like many women she had probably registered to get access to the men who slept with fighters. Unlike most such slut-fighters, she had just somehow not been murdered by one of the many fighters that hunted down such women.

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Shyla's eyes blazed with anger suddenly, "You know how many fights I've had to lose to get some real deathmatches going? Nobody wants to fight a real pro, they just want to murder jobbers and call it a fight!" This time it was Shyla's heel that stabbed at the floor in anger. Gripping the dress in front of her large (although small when compared to the voluptuous Sheri) tits, Shyla tore away her dress in one fluid motion, the fabric tearing easily down the middle. "This time, I want a real fight!" The blonde was left in nothing but her shoes and gloves.

Not believing for a second that a loser like Shyla was actually some badass faker, Sheri charged the lying bitch. She had once watched the blonde get assfucked for over an hour by one of the cities worst fighters in a "jobber vs jobber" match. No woman would allow that kind of humiliation on purpose.

Liar or not, Shyla dodged Sheri's wild charge effortlessly, sharp heels scraping across expensive hardwood as she ducked under a wild haymaker. The suddenly grinning blonde was down on one knee, her other leg stretched out, the heel bracing against the couch leg. Laughing, Shyla drove her fist into Sheri's lace-covered ribcage.

Grunting with surprise and pain, Sheri pivoted, swinging her elbow out to strike the laughing Shyla in the face, she merely clipped her on the jaw at the blonde continued dodging. As Shyla rolled away, Sheri twisted on her dress's edging and fell on her ass with a thump.

Shyla launched forward, once again driving her fist into Sheri's ribs as the winded brunette sat on the floor. This time with blonde took an actual hit in return though as Sheri raised her knee up, although it wasn't on purpose, the brunette's knee sunk right between the blonde's perky breasts and smashed into her sternum.

Shyla landed on the floor with a gasp of pain, laying side by side with the groaning Sheri. Both women coughed and panted for a few seconds before, as one, rolling away from one another. Sheri bracing herself against the couch and pushing her way up while Shyla kipped up with a practised ease, rolling on her pointed heels and ending up standing tall.

Facing off once again, both fighters were breathing heavily, more from excitement than injury. Shyla made the first move, throwing herself forward silently as Sheri purposefully fell backwards onto the couch.

The blonde ran straight into Sheri's heels as the brunette brought her feet up. One jabbing her in the shoulder as the other dug a bloody line across her abdomen. Sheri brought her bloody heel back for another stab when the scowling blonde grabbed her by the front and dragged her into a punch to the face.

Sheri's beautiful dress tore down the front as she was slammed back into fluffy pillows, her eyes spinning from the blow. Feeling firm hands grip her even more beautiful breast and pull her forward for another blow to the head. The brunette threw herself sideways, her enemies fist digging up to the elbow in soft cushions where her face had been a moment ago.

Shyla screamed as Sheri instinctively bit her on the forearm, snapping her fist back across the brunette's mouth she backed off cursing and cradling her bloody arm.

Sheri lay in the cushions, panting and grinning, Shyla was bleeding from her arm and stomach, Sheri herself was just bruised. Standing, she reached up and pulled her torn dress down over her shoulders.

Just as Sheri got her dress down to her elbows, Shyla snapped forward. Ploughing into the restrained brunette who gave out a surprised squeak.

Sheri crashed to the ground with Shyla on top of her, headbutting the brunette on the chin, Shyla pulled at the torn dress to further bind the squirming woman up. Once again laughing, she stopped when Sheri gave her a headbutt to the nose in response.

Sheri drove her knee up between Shyla's legs, taking pleasure in the solid thud it made. Once again headbutting the blonde, she managed to roll the dazed blonde off and get to her feet. Falling over her ragged dress she screamed in rage and Shyla grabbed the white lace and punched her in the thigh.

A heel slashing across her forehead convinced Shyla to release the thrashing brunette before she got blinded by a wild kick. Getting to her knees though she chased after the retreating bride as Sheri awkwardly ran away around the couch.

The busty brunette finally manged to get away from her own wedding dress as the tattered lace fell away. Wearing only one pump (the other lost in the chaotic retreat), some white panties and her wedding veil, she scrambled across the floor lopsidedly.

Shyla tackled Sheri through a doorway, landing in a heap and taking a tit to the face as the brunette twisted around on her. Once again taking a knee to the cunt, she was conveniently thrown into a perfect mount. Her knees resting just under those big tits as the surprised looking Sheri lay beneath her.

Laying in the entrance to the movie lounge, Sheri was pinned under the blonde by one arm. She only just got her free hand up to protect her face before Shyla swung a fist right at it. Deflecting the first shot, Sheri winced as a second blow rammed into her undefended breasts.

While she took a few minor hits to the chest and stomach, Shyla managed to pound her fist down into Sheri's face and tits several times before sharp nails dug in between her ass cheeks. Shrieking in surprise, Shyla launched straight up.

Sheri's foot swung up, her toe digging into the small of Shyla's back and launching the blonde forward.

Shyla pitched forward over a small glass divider, smashing her head on a cupholder armrest, she collapsed sideways into a lounging chair.

Both the blonde and brunette tried to get back up after a few seconds. Shyla, eyes unfocused, falling sideways almost immediately after finding her feet and Sheri having to grip the door handle for dear life just to remain upright, when the sliding door closed she fell tits down without bracing at all.

When Milo called for a rest break, both fighters argued against it, but were powerless to stop him from pulling Sheri out of the room and using a master key to lock Shyla in.

Laying Sheri down in the already well used honeymoon bed, Milo made sure to get some Vigour Drugs to Shyla before returning to his new bride.

By the time he returned to her, Sheri was ready and waiting for him.

[Enjoyed the story? Part two is here!]