About the Author
Written by Rival’s Rapture: Mr. Cage has been writing female fight fiction before some of our younger writers were even born. And in that time, he has mastered the craft — producing brutally hot stories of women locked in combat for decades now. And though his pace has slowed and presence has ebbed as of late, we are lucky enough to be able to present his works on Fights.Sexy for you.
Mr. Cage’s Stories
The camera suddenly jerked away from the fight and caught Mina and Kam struggling on a row of plastic seats, falling onto the floor and rolling back and forth. Fists, head butts, elbows, knees and boots struck. Kam’s vest was off. Her orange half tank top was ripped open. Mina had just rolled up the Indian girl’s white bra exposing a light brown round mound of firm tit flesh topped by a huge nipple. The Pakistani girl’s left hand went for the nipple. That freed Kam’s right hand and her black and green nails went straight for Mina’s dark eyes. Mina screamed and turned her face to the side. The Indian rolled her off and under the opposing plastic bench. I could see the struggle continue as Mina’s boot kicked over the top of Kam’s round ass or Kam’s leg moved back and forth kneeing Mina’s unseen cunt. Lionel didn’t think to change angles.
Billie snarled through swollen split lips, “I fucked you up bitch. You look like a movie monster.”
Cindy snarled, “I busted your face up bitch and look at your right tit. That sag is a busted balloon.”
They snarled at each other for quite awhile. Then they grew tired and just glared. Cindy looked around. A bucket had been suspended from the roof high enough that you would have to reach over head to feel the rim.
The voice spoke, “Time for our final meeting. Both of you seem to want to live. Now we will see who wants it most. This fight will be over when one of you is dead. Before I let the winner go she must put the loser’s nipples in the bucket. Of course, you can put them in before she’s dead just to make a point. Remember, when you walk free I’ll have a close-up in digital glory of you biting off the other woman’s nipples. I wouldn’t want to explain that to the police or the neighbors. The doors will open in thirty seconds; after that it’s up to you. Who survives and whose nipples get added to trophies?”
Connie tried to turn the fight into a contest of strength, but the blonde’s pumping fists and digging knees kept the bigger woman grunting and moaning. Nipples were pulled, elbows ground into guts and tits, fists were snapped into bleeding faces and jiggling flesh, knees dug into crotches and guts, handful’s of the black’s busy hair were ripped out, eyes were poked and faces were rubbed by chains and gravel. Connie finally kicked the furious dyke off and rolled away.
Julia pursued missing a left and then crushing the left tit again with a solid upper cut. The bloody nipple squirted lymph and the audience hooted. “Milk her.” Someone yelled first one to milk both tits get a gold coin. Julia’s left crushed the outside of the right tit. Annie cried out and lunged into the blonde grabbing her again around the arms wrestling them in a staggering circle. Annie stepped on Julia’s right foot and they went down in a thud onto the mat. Julia’s claws cut Annie’s sides and pushed her middle back for a knee to the cunt.
I stood my ground, “Fuck off you bitches!”
Cathy glared at me, “I’ll make you drink piss you little faggot. We’re going down to the basement bitch.”
Jill laughed, “You forget what we made you do the last time, Billie?”
“Fuck you too cunt!”
Jill stepped forward, but Cathy grabbed her arm and said, “Not out here. Down in the basement.”
“I’ll shut your mouth you dirty white whore!”
They kicked off their shoes and began circling each other dragging belt buckles on the ground. I’d been in a belt fight in third grade. The belts seldom get used more than once unless someone wraps it around a fist. As soon as the fight starts you lose your belts.
Cathy suddenly snapped her belt from the ground putting a wave in the leather strap that kicked the buckle off the ground throwing black dirt. The buckle snapped hitting the underside of Desiree’s left tit. Damn, I wondered how long Cathy had practiced that move. Desiree squealed and jumped backwards swinging her own belt in a more frequent side arm whip motion. The buckle missed Cathy’s belly by five inches at least. Cathy leapt forward as the belt passed by and slammed her ringed fist into Desiree’s mouth.