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Emma and Sara have the destiny of the world championship to settle, woman to woman
And so, Emma and Sara’s great fighting rivalry would be revisited, perhaps for the final time, in Dubai for the finals of the World Catfight Championship tournament. Each had won their way through to the final, beating two tough opponents on the way. Each knew that to claim the ultimate prize though, they would have to beat the woman that had perhaps been their biggest rival. While they had come to be friends, there would be no love lost when the bell sounded in the final, I was pretty certain.



Jemma and Beth’s tour around the world had been carefully planned to bring them to Dubai a few days ahead of the fight as well, and they’d be welcome additions to the last few days of training for Emma, seeming to relax her a little. Of course, Jemma had regaled us of her fights so far, especially her victory in Australia which we’d not heard about previously. Then she’d run us through their future plans a little too, telling us ‘we’re thinking we might be able to find a match here with a bit of luck, and that should pay for us to get to Japan then we think.’



‘You watch those Japanese girls’ Emma had smiled, ‘they have a style all to themselves!’



‘That’s the truth Mrs B’ Beth agreed, knowing it well enough from recent experience.



‘But anyway mum, enough about us. This is about you’ Jemma said now. ‘How can we help you to get ready for Sara?’ she asked.



The answer to that had been two fold it seemed. Clearly the girls helped by simply being there, and bringing their more relaxed feel to the training. And then, there was the question of training partners with each taking it in turns to work with Emma. Size and experience typically told in those exchanges in the end, but it was at least very clear that Jemma and Beth were both improving from when we had last seen them in action. Would this training be what was needed for the big fight a few days hence? Nobody really knew if the truth be told; it would clearly be a rough and tough fight with Sara. She and Emma had been friendly enough in the build up, even in the press conference held at the site of the fight on top of one of the many skyscrapers. That would be transformed into a makeshift arena for the fight. When asked to provide a stare-down for the gathered media people, they’d managed a few seconds of seriousness before both had laughed and ended up hugging it out.



‘Don’t worry’ Sara had reassured the press though. ‘On Saturday night, we’ll fight like wildcats for your entertainment.
‘That’s right’ Emma agreed. ‘We might like each other now, but on the mats, we still hate each other, and we’ll be out to hurt the other woman on Saturday.’
* * *

The time to prove those two statements from the press conference was now pretty much upon us, and just as the organisers had promised, the helipad on top of the skyscraper was totally transformed for the occasion. Four temporary stands, each of six rows of seating surrounded the fighting arena, only a small gap between two of them where both fighters would enter. Search lights combed the sky as night fell, probing out into the gathering darkness while a drone show entertained the crowd ahead of the real entertainment starting for the evening. The arena too was a sight to behold. The organisers had wanted to give both women space to fight, some of the attributes of a ring and a cage, but not constrain them in either. The result was an arena of forty square feet that was considered in bounds for fighting. There were two corner sections of ring ropes opposite each other with a small amount of ring rope stretching out from a turnbuckle that was, at the agreement of both, very lightly padded. The two other corners contained segments of cage in a similar layout, with about a ten foot gap between the end of the cage and the start of the ring ropes. Inside that was a sprung floor, designed to imitate the feel of a wrestling ring. On the outside of the square loosely delineated by the ropes and the cage though, thin wrestling mats were laid on the helipad to provide a less forgiving surface. All of the flooring was in a light gold colour, with the ring ropes and turnbuckles a deep purple colour; the steel cage sections were silver and looked unforgiving as the lights raked across them occasionally. And backstage, the two friends waited patiently for the chance to tear each other up in order to become the inaugural world champion.
Jemma, Beth and I took seats a little away from the fighting arena after leaving Emma back stage with good luck hugs. Jemma had even sought out Sara, a woman who had been a part of her early training to hug her too, unaware perhaps that the backstage scenes were being shown to the crowd. In amongst the several hundred gathered to watch was Toni, the tough Texan who had felt slighted not to be included in the tournament in the first place. She noted the closeness between Sara, Emma and Jemma with some interest. It had been agreed both women would not be seconded this evening as well; the organisers felt that woman to woman was the right way for the contest to be settled, and neither Sara nor Emma had seen any reason to argue with that logic. We sat and waited for a moment now, taking in the sights, spotting familiar faces in the crowd too. Suki Yammamoto talking to Kensi Welsh, apparently no hard feelings between them any longer. Toni of course, sat there with Paislee and it seemed a small and incredibly pretty blonde woman who we didn’t know. She was talking animatedly to her group, no doubt hatching some sort of a plan. Others were there too. Lady Amelia close to the edge of the fight arena, Petra Von Falk who had fought as Miss V in the Smythe Lightweight division. A real who’s who of the catfight scene, gathered together to take in the huge fight. And then all of the lights were out, suddenly extinguished as the drones hovering above us changed formation and spelled out ‘SARA’ in the sky, before a single spotlight picked out the gap between the stands and tracked the strawberry blonde American to her corner.



As the crowd cheered her appearance in the arena, Sara waved to them, her strawberry blonde hair catching in the lights as she did so. She wore a lace and mesh one piece lingerie bodysuit that was almost backless with a thong back and a halter neck tie. The front plunged deep to show off her curves and cleavage well. She had coupled it with a pair of hold up fishnet stockings, all in her trademark scarlet colour to match her finger and toe nails. She was a woman at ease in the setting too; one that had experienced many big fights and wasn’t overtaken by the occasion as she sat on top of the turnbuckle in her corner. The spotlight illuminated her for a few moments longer, then it cut as abruptly as it had come on moments earlier. The arena was back in darkness as the drones above us rearranged themselves to spell out ‘EMMA’, and then the spotlight was back, illuminating the gap between the stands again.



This time of course it picked out the curvaceous form and glowing auburn hair of my wife Emma, standing there at the edge of the arena. She looked sensational beneath that light as I realised she had a late change of plan with her outfit. Gone was the blue lace and mesh one piece lingerie bodysuit that I had thought she was wearing, and in it’s place was a stunning teal coloured lingerie set all in mesh, with just the finest of slightly darker lace overlaid in certain areas. The set consisted of a G-string, a half cup bra that just about strained to cover her nipples and a thin suspender belt that held up a par of glossy nude stockings. It was undoubtedly a bold choice, a statement so to speak, but one that wasn’t going to provide too much in the way of protection from Sara when the action began. But it drew her the admiration of the crowd as it accentuated the curvy figure it adorned beneath that spotlight as she strode confidently to her corner. Of course, for such a big fight, there was inevitably a degree of pageantry pre match, with a fanfare of bugles heralding the arrival of the championship crown to the edge of the fight arena. It would stay there throughout the match, on a purple cushioned podium to act as a reminder to both ladies, were it needed, of just what they were fighting for here.



Now finally, a ring announcer dressed in a long shimmering white dress took the microphone and walked out to the centre of the arena on her impossibly towering high heels. ‘Ladies and Gentlemen……viewers around the world. Tonight we will crown the first ever World Catfight Champion. The undisputed queen of catfighting will be decided, here for your enjoyment’ she said, as I spotted more than one pair of eyes on the action that would be more that happy to dispute that undisputed status straight away. ‘The fight tonight will be a simple one. It has no time limit. It has only two rules. It must stay within this arena, and can only be won by a complete submission of the match. There will be sessions of ten minutes of fighting, each followed by a two minute break. If neither fighter has submitted at that point, then it will be an unlimited time round until the resistance of one fighter is broken!’ she informed the crowd. ‘Now our two fighters who have won through the tournament to face each other this evening. First, wearing scarlet, from the USA, she is the current Southern Belles and Hong Kong Syndicate catfight champion. She is 37 years old, 5 feet 9 inches tall, 170lbs, and 38DD-29-40 with a record of 46 wins and 13 losses……SARA!’



Sara walked a few paces from her corner and acknowledged the crowd briefly before the announcer continued. ‘Her opponent, wearing teal with nude stockings, from England, she is the current Smythe Catfight champion. She is 44 years old, 5 feet 10 inches tall, 175lbs, and 40E-28-39 with a record of 67 wins and 23 losses……EMMA!’ Now it was Emma acknowledging the crowd too, no clear favourite between them with the audience it seemed, before the ring announcer was replaced by the female referee for the evening. She was equally well dressed as the ring announcer, though her dress was a little shorter, more practical for getting down to check for submissions and she was barefoot for easier movement. She called both ladies out to the centre of the large fight area, each not taking their eyes off of the other as she delivered the final instructions. It was reiterated again that a submission of the whole match was the only way that the fight would end. It was possible to submit, it just didn’t have to be honoured. ‘Say the words, I submit the match, ladies. It’s the only way I’ll intervene and stop it’ the referee told them, her final instruction.



‘Bear that in mind bitch!’ Sara smiled at Emma.



‘So I can remind you what to say when you’re in trouble right?’ Emma shot back, a smile on her face too.



Then it was time, a bell sounding clearly in the air over a thousand feet up in the evening air, and the fight was on. The excitement was palpable in the crowd, but it didn’t translate to a fast start in the action. Far from it in fact; Emma and Sara circled carefully, probing for openings as each slapped the body and face of the other in a cautious opening. The nature of the fight and that the prize on offer could be won by a single submission more or less guaranteed caution to be the order of the day early on. But that discounted the effect of two fighters that knew each other so well. Each slap they threw carried some force, and the insults started too as each tried to take the other out of their game plan, still there very much in the centre of the arena. As first minutes went though, it was hardly the most action packed, leaving everyone wondering if having two friends fighting in the final was really going to work out.



They should have known better than that though; a few moments more of long range jousting for position might happen, but that was all it would take. Then the touch paper was well and truly lit as Emma looped a big slap home to catch Sara in the face, followed by closing in with a right hand to the body and went to a waist-lock of sorts, trying to tackle Sara to the ground. Just as had happened in the opening of their very first meeting, Sara rode the attempt to tackle her, giving a couple of yards before she set her feet and drove an elbow down between Emma’s shoulders to put her on her knees. She grabbed the shoulder straps of Emma’s skimpy bra for a moment now, just using them to hold her in place for a thigh strike to the face. Emma looked dazed, rocked back a little and Sara tried to follow it up with a kick across the breasts, only to find Emma a little more with it than she had thought. Catching Sara’s leg, she got to her feet, forcing Sara to hop on one leg for a moment before she kicked it out from beneath her. Sara fell, Emma followed her down with an elbow drop to the belly that winded Sara a little. She may have been winded, but she was straight into Emma’s auburn hair, looking to keep a degree of control as Emma lay partly across her body. Sara shifted her legs a little, allowing her to dig a short heel kick into Emma’s thigh now as she slowly tried to get that leg snaked around her body into a partial scissor hold. Emma grabbed her right breast in return, bringing a look of some pain to Sara’s face as she dug in through the thin lace and mesh material of her lingerie.



Again, Sara shifted her leg, this time the short heel kick catching Emma in the belly; not a devastating blow, but certainly one that she didn’t want to take too often here as she turned and slapped Sara’s face before continuing with the breast maul. Sara’s leg was getting more around Emma now, slowly starting to turn her just a little towards the point where she’d be caught in the scissor hold. Emma had no interest in that just now, quickly shifting her own position away from that attempt as the sharp pain in her scalp reminded her that Sara had a hand wrapped up well in her auburn hair still. She’d shifted to a position a little away from Sara’s legs now; a position from which she could drop her big breasts into Sara’s face for the first time, getting a partial smother as Sara was able to hastily turn her face to the side in defence. The action continued there, pretty much in the centre of the arena for now, on the floor with Emma attempting to strengthen her position. She used a grab of Sara’s strawberry blonde hair, in close to her scalp, now to try and turn Sara’s face back into her smother. In return, Sara pulled as hard on Emma’s hair as she could, just easing any potential smother by a fraction just to make the situation manageable for her. As Emma slowly moved her face into her breasts, the defensive hair pull was Sara’s ally now, stopping the impending smother from being totally effective. It was then a little bit of a stalemate, try as Emma might to pull Sara deeper into it. The American woman started to fire back a little too, awkwardly from her position, but she was able to backhand Emma in the face. Not a huge problem for Emma to take, but nevertheless she didn’t want to give a woman like Sara too many free shots. She quit her smother attempt with a nasty knee to the ribs, and then was straight into the hair, to force Sara to her feet.
Both women were in the other’s hair for the moment on their feet, each trying to bully the other around the large arena for the first time before Emma continued her confident start. Sliding a hand between the legs of the strawberry blonde, she showed good power to lift and body slam her. As Sara hit that lightly sprung floor, we learned for the first time, that the floor had got some sort of microphone built in to it to ensure all in attendance heard the impact clearly enough. Sara’s groan from the slam was clear enough too, but then as Emma leaned over her, back in the hair and looking to get her up and continue her attack, so was Emma’s groan of surprise as Sara caught her in the pit of the belly with a right hand. Stopped just for a key moment, she paid the price further as Sara struck with a straight fingered thrust to the underside of the breasts too, and the fight had it’s first momentum swing now. That continued as she got to her feet quickly, grabbed Emma’s hair and used it to rip her to the floor with some authority. A splash followed immediately from Sara, dropping heavily across Emma’s breasts and face to stun her a little, allowing her to go to the hair and get Emma to her knees. Using that grip of the hair, she started to force Emma to walk on her knees after her, towards one of the areas of ring ropes. Emma stopped that momentum quickly enough, grabbing Sara’s hand with both of hers, but that was effective for no longer than it took Sara to turn and kick her in the stomach. Emma groaned loudly, and Sara continued walking now, getting her to the ropes quickly enough and finally brought her back to her feet there to throw her into the lightly padded turnbuckles. It wasn’t done with with force to really take advantage of the lack of padding there, and Emma tried to come out of the corner quickly for a two handed hair grab. That might have stopped Sara, but again only momentarily as Sara raked Emma’s eyes and shoved her back, moaning loudly in protest, in to the corner for a second time.



Now Sara whipped a chop across Emma’s breasts, enjoying the way they threatened to break free of that half cup bra already, before a big European uppercut beneath the chin jolted Emma back upright. ‘Big tits……small top’ Sara opined, backing up a little before crushing Emma against the unforgiving turnbuckles with a short avalanche splash. ‘You never learn’ she laughed now, finishing the statement as she pulled Emma’s breasts roughly from her top, leaving the bra on for now, and slapped down on them, dragging her nails a little. ‘Bitch!’ Emma hissed in protest while Sara whipped a right hand up into her belly to rock her back against those turnbuckles once more.



‘Don’t forget it either!’ Sara told her now, grabbing the ropes to bury her shoulder into Emma’s body there in the corner. But she paid a price for it now too, Emma raking her almost completely bare back with her nails as she doubled up over her shoulder. ‘OWWWW……dirty cunt!’ Sara protested, keeping the upper-hand for now as she grabbed Emma’s hair and spun her, trying to get into a position to introduce her face into that lightly padded turnbuckle. Emma resisted, hands on the top ropes, and quickly groaned as Sara whipped a right hand around into her belly, broke that resistance, and then used the hair to deliver her original intended move. Now Emma tasted that light padding, dropping straight back to her butt in the corner, blinking a little as she tried to compute just where she was and how she’d got there in her dazed state. Sara knew better than to allow any woman the chance to get her senses back together when they were scrambled. She went to the hair, pulled Emma up, and quickly lifted her to body slam her there in the corner, still just about on that sprung area of floor. Then there was a glint in her eye as she used the hair again to force Emma partly through the ropes, so that she was laying across the bottom rope with it against her stomach. The strawberry blonde was in that area outside the ropes now, not on the sprung floor herself, and she sat in front of Emma, pulling her hair to direct her face into her crotch so that she could close her thighs there in a scissor hold.



‘Aaaaggggh! Emma moaned almost immediately, trapped in a stressed position over that ring rope, and feeling the powerful thighs of the strawberry blonde for the first time tonight. Sara’s toes pointed to the night sky, propping herself up on her elbows, and she squeezed hard, knowing that she contained potential knockout power in her legs. Emma knew it too, moaning in pain again as she started to search blindly for a target, any target, to allow her to escape. She latched on to Sara’s breasts quickly, squeezing them hard as Sara told her ‘get off my tits bitch, and submit!’, adding another flex of her thunderous thighs to the mix. ‘Never! OWWWW!’ Emma said, steadfast resistance giving way almost immediately to pain as she tried to make her way back through the ropes. It was like trying to move dead-weight though, such was Sara’s refusal to move and late in this first session, things weren’t looking good for her. She worked the breasts again as Sara ripped at her hair in reply, leaving a few strands of auburn hair littering the floor there in the corner.



‘Fucking bitch!’ Emma complained as she felt Sara starting to pull at her hair fiercely again, while all the time she kept up the pressure with her legs. It was looking a desperate situation for Emma, but instead, she found her way free from the hold abruptly, easing Sara’s bodysuit to the side before she violated her ass with her thumb, making Sara shriek in shock as her scissor hold was involuntarily broken.



‘Dirty fucking cunt!’ Sara bemoaned at Emma’s method of escape as she scrambled clear, and Emma got back through the ropes.



‘Fight like wildcats remember……you’ve gone soft bitch!’ Emma shot back at Sara before the two came back together for a flurry of action with slaps, kicks and punches to the body landing from both before the crisp chime of the bell ended the first round. Once again the lights were killed but for two subtle spotlights that followed each fighter back to their respective corner, while overhead, the drones turned into a clock, counting down the two minute interval for all to see. Each woman was on her own in the corner, meaning this fight would be settled entirely by their own wits and skills. A look around the sections of the crowd that were bathed in the periphery of the spotlights showed a crowd in rapt attention, animatedly discussing the action so far. Even Toni, a woman who had no time for Emma, or in all likelihood Sara either, looked like she was taken along with the action so far. Then the drones ticked down to zero, their lights dimming as those focussed on the arena came back up and the bell sounded clearly in the night sky above the city again. It was a call to action and one that didn’t fail to bring just that from both Emma and Sara.



The caution from early in round one was out of the window now as Emma rushed out to meet Sara more than half way across the arena and caught her with a right hand to the chin. Sara was rocked back on her heels, caught under a withering flurry of fierce slaps to the face and body by Emma forcing her to give ground as she tried to corral Sara towards one of the neutral corner sections of cage. Sara blocked for all she was worth but a number of blows got through as the momentum looked to be firmly in favour of my wife at the start of round two. Finally she got Sara’s back to the cage, near the end of the panel that stretched away from the corner, and took a grip of the cage through Sara’s strawberry blonde hair, anchoring her in place. ‘You bitch……aaaahhhhh!’ Sara complained as Emma whipped a right hand low to her stomach and followed up with a chop across her breasts. ‘Shut up bitch, unless you want to submit!’ Emma replied and tried a knee to the body that Sara just about thwarted by raising her own leg to block the worst of it. Emma moved on quickly though, grabbing Sara’s right breast instead to maul it fiercely, bringing a look of pain to the American fighter’s eyes to accompany the sounds from her lips. Sara was no helpless damsel in distress through and she followed Emma’s grip now, one hand in her auburn hair to force her head back, and one squeezing her right breast hard after quickly removing it again from that half cup bra.
Both ladies groaned now in this early exchange, though Emma told Sara ‘come on, squeeze me harder. I like it!’



‘Really?’ Sara said through gritted teeth in reply. ‘Because it really doesn’t sound that way to me with all that whining!’ she challenged, her fingers going to work and making Emma’s eyes screw shut against the pain for a moment. Emma rocked her again with a chop across her breasts now before starting to maul her hard once more, and she seemed to be just about getting the better of the exchange still against the cage. Their foreheads were pressed together now as Emma kept Sara pinned there for the time being, almost like two lovers in a passionate tryst. The action may have been passionate in nature, but it wasn’t loving, that was for sure as each continued to hurt the other with their mauling attacks. Sara’s breast attack was perhaps becoming the more telling of the two now as she whipped a slap onto the bare breast from time to time, converting it back quickly to the maul again, watching Emma for a reaction. Emma gave her one too, but it was a right hand to the stomach that stung Sara and gave her the edge again. Now Sara tried to stamp on Emma’s feet, knowing a heel to bare toes might slow any woman up, and it forced Emma into some fast footwork to protect herself before she was able to get a right hand back into Sara’s body again to slow her up. The first quarter of the second session had passed quickly in this position now. Not exactly a stalemate as the momentum swung subtly in the tight clinch, but not exactly a position that saw either woman achieve a telling advantage either. And then Sara raked Emma’s eyes, a fast flash of the fingers across them raising a shriek from Emma as she reached for her face, allowing Sara to get herself off the cage wall.



Sara, as always, was a dangerous woman and with Emma’s vision still clearing, she whipped in a right hand, just underneath the breasts to double Emma up so that her forehead was touching the steel cage wall. A flash of inspiration was clear in Sara’s eyes now as she walked to the other side of the cage wall, standing only inches away from Emma and grabbed some auburn hair, feeding it through the mesh of the cage. Emma realised the predicament and tried to get away, making quite the mistake as Sara stopped her progress by her grip of her hair, then sharply pulled her head first into the wall of the cage. That was a stunning blow to leave Emma’s head spinning. It sent her reeling off the cage wall as well, just a little way as Sara eased control of the hair just for a second, then reeled her back in hard for a second time before letting a stunned Emma fall back to the sprung floor as she released her hair. Emma was still in a seated position as Sara came back around the cage wall and took a rough handful of hair, walking quickly in the direction of the centre of the arena. That gave Emma no choice other than to follow her, scrambling and crying out in pain from the treatment her scalp was taking, as the strawberry blonde American took control of round two of the action. Emma tried once to stop Sara’s progress, grabbing her hand with both of hers and setting her feet on the mat, only for Sara to turn, and kick her hard in the body, causing her to gasp for breath. Sara was satisfied now as she had Emma out the centre of the arena, away from cages, ropes and turnbuckles that might be used to turn the momentum of the fight. She kicked her again, this one designed to knock Emma’s left breast clear of her bra as well, drawing a cry of pain before Sara pulled her to her feet by the hair. Emma shot in a right hand to the body, not landing it with a huge amount of power before Sara responded with a knee to the belly that doubled Emma up. Presented with the opportunity, Sara was never going to ignore the chance to deliver the knee lift to the breasts then, knocking Emma back to the mat.



She fell into a seated position, and Sara grabbed hair with her left hand, using it so that she could present Emma perfectly for a chopping right hand to the forehead to knock her onto her back, trying desperately to clear her senses. They cleared hastily enough though as Sara lashed her prone body with sharp red finger nails, and quickly cut off Emma’s initial cry of protest with a knee drop to the right breast. ‘OOOOWWWWW……FUCKING HELL!’ Emma groaned as Sara stayed kneeling on her breast and slapped her face before Emma grabbed Sara’s wrist to prevent a repeat and she raked her own equally sharp nails down Sara’s thigh, ripping some bigger holes in her fishnet stocking as she did so. Sara’s face registered the searing pain caused by Emma’s flashing nails, but still kneeling on my wife’s breasts, she converted her pain to action, trying to clamp her hand between Emma’s thighs in a crotch claw. Forced into desperate defence, Emma crossed her legs just in time to diminish the full impact of the claw at least, and Sara knew it would no longer be fully effective so she simply slugged Emma in the belly instead. ‘UUNNNGHHH’ Emma groaned, feeling the wind beat out of her a little by Sara. Friends or not away from the mats, they were definitely making good on their promise to go at it like wildcats on them. Sara wriggled her hand free of Emma’s grip for a moment now and clamped it down on her face in something of a hastily improvised hand smother. In response to that, Emma clawed at Sara’s thigh again, and tried to work her jaw around to see if she could somehow sink her teeth into Sara’s hand.



‘Fucking cunt!’ Sara moaned as Emma’s sharp teal talons scraped across her skin harshly. She was still in the stronger position of the two though, using that hand in Emma’s face as leverage to raise her knee a few inches off Emma, and then drop it back onto her breast again. ‘OWWWW….My fucking tits you fat bitch!’ Emma complained; Sara smirked, grabbed the front of her teal coloured G-string and wrenched it into a wedgie. A deep one at that, the thin but sturdy fabric of the G-String cutting into Emma’s pussy as she shrieked loudly in pain and hoped for the G-string to rip. That would have eased her pain, but she was not in luck, much to Sara’s delight, as the G-string continued to display great elasticity despite the best efforts of the American. Desperately, Emma reached blindly with her foot, trying to hook it into the garment and counter the attack that way. That was to no avail though; Sara grabbed the foot, foregoing wedgie and smother for a moment as she twisted the foot painfully. Emma cried out from that sharp pain now, squirming in a degree of desperation beneath Sara as she tried to dislodge her, and Sara shifted back trying to surprise her with a reverse face sit.



She shifted in to place certainly, but Emma had moved her face to the side, meaning she was, in a manner of speaking, cheek to cheek with the strawberry blonde American. ‘Bitch’ Sara moaned as she felt Emma’s nails again, this time on her back, scratching her up, and giving her plenty to think about, at least until she grabbed that G-String again, wrenching it back deep into a wedgie to punish Emma. She cried out in pain yet again, relief only finding her as this time the fabric of the G-string finally gave way in Sara’s hand. Cruelly, the American half turned and tried her best to force the discarded garment into Emma’s mouth now, only thinking better of completing the attempt as her fingers encountered Emma’s teeth. But she laughed now and told Emma ‘going to make you cum like a cheap whore in front of your girl now!’ and started to finger fuck her.



‘Mmmmm……you bitch’ Emma replied, half a protest, and half an appreciation of Sara’s technique perhaps as she felt Sara’s fingers going to work on her sensually. It was a change of style from Sara who was usually more of a straight ahead fighter, but with it all on the line here, clearly no tactic was thought to be off limits by her. Again, Emma moaned, a degree of pleasure clear in her tone as Sara told her that she was a ‘dirty slut’ but then showing some great discipline, Emma crossed her legs tightly, effectively trapping Sara’s right hand in place between her legs, fingers still inside her, and then she flexed her legs, making Sara pitch forwards a little. In an instant, she had ripped Sara’s bodysuit to one side, and in return had her fingers inside the American as she told her ‘how about I make you cum instead, you dirty little tart?’
‘Mmmmmm….ooooohhhhh’ Sara bemoaned, finding Emma to be just as capable in the art of finger fucking as the second session of action continued on, neither really with a decisive advantage. Using her free hand, Sara clawed at Emma’s stomach now, drawing a loud cry from Emma, a slight loosening of how her legs had anchored Sara’s arm in place too. As she moaned again, feeling a wave of pleasure build in her once more, she wriggled her hand free of the trap, and suddenly hammered three punches into Emma’s body before getting away from her.



They may have been apart, but not for long as they closed in on each other here near the close of the second round. Emma stopped Sara dead this time, snapping a kick out into her stomach, and wasting no time, she lifted her straight into an across the knee back breaker. She didn’t hold Sara there for long; just long enough to slam a double fisted blow into her stomach and shrug her off to a heavy landing on the spring floor. An opportunity had presented itself late in the round perhaps as Emma grabbed Sara’s ankles, stomped her belly, then turned her on to her front in a Boston Crab, sending a ripple of anticipation through the crowd who recognised it to be the prelude to one of Emma’s favoured combinations.
Sara recognised it too, knowing that Emma might drop one leg, then go for the crotch claw and she steeled herself to take it. At the same time, she reached back to grab Emma’s ankles, hoping to take her off balance. Emma seemed to ride it but then Sara flexed her leg just as Emma applied the crotch claw, and it was enough to send Emma sprawling off balance to the floor. Now both ladies kicked at each other and chance as much as anything saw Sara connect crisply with her foot in Emma’s belly, and the complexion of the fight changed once more. As Emma gasped for breath, she was pinned there at the centre of the arena by Sara who smirked down at her and unfastened her own halter-neck top to release her impressive breasts. ‘Remember this?’ she asked, just before plunging her breasts in to Emma’s face. It was a smother but not the super smother as Emma successfully avoided the grapevine and pulled at Sara’s hair, just to ease the tightness of the smother. A defensive measure as the time ticked by and the excitement built within the crowd as they realised both women had found opportunities in the last moments of the second round. Opportunities that neither could convert in time, Sara just able to trap Emma in the grapevine as time expired in the round and the bell chimed clearly in the night sky again.
Both headed back to their respective corners now, a little slower than they had at the end of round one as the drones formed up into the two minute countdown clock in the sky for the last time. The excitement around the arena was palpable now; everyone knew the fight would be settled now, one way or another, in this final session, and few really knew who, if anyone, was on top. There were nerves too, certainly in our section of the crowd, as we wondered if Emma could find what was needed to defeat Sara. On the mats though, there were no such nerves, or they were well hidden if they were there anyway. On their own volition, it seemed both women had elected to fight this last fall naked other than their stockings as Emma removed her half cup bra, her G-String already a distant memory. She would wear just her thin teal coloured suspender bely and nude stockings. Opposite her, Sara had removed her red lace and mesh bodysuit too, wearing just her red fishnet hold ups, complete with the extra holes ripped in them by Emma, as she eyed her across the expansive arena. The drone timer was ticking down, a steady tempo that would soon enough drop to zero and be followed by the chime of the bell and two nearly naked Amazons joined battle one last time for the ultimate prize.



The bell chimed, and the crowd roared in approval immediately, rising to their feet as Emma waited in her own corner, gesturing Sara to come in for close quarters fighting to settle this thing. Sara shrugged, smiled, and came across the arena to join her there cautiously, but Emma made no attempt to sneak in an attack as she approached. Instead, she stepped forward a pace off the turnbuckle to meet Sara breast to breast, face to face, and each sunk their left hands into each other’s hair, before they started to flail away with right hands to the body and breasts. Punches landed, slaps cracked off naked flesh, nails were dragged as each cursed the other and then tried to do worse to them. It was a ferocious opening in what had been a long fight already, but neither showed any sign of letting up as they left their marks on each other. Sara went with a knee to the body, just feeling Emma sag a little and she walked her back one pace so that she was against the turnbuckle. Emma raised her knee in return, Sara walking into it as she stopped her against the lightly padded turnbuckles. Then the status quo returned, both hammering away as the grunts of pain accompanied the impact of knuckles on flesh. Sara slapped into the left breast of Emma now, getting her finger nails in and dragging her hand hard as it recoiled so she could immediately throw a punch to the ribs to cut off Emma’s shrill cry of pain. In return, Emma flattened Sara’s left breast with a punch, then forced her head back by the hair so that she could slap her face twice. Sara’s face registered the sharp impact of palm on cheek, but she didn’t flinch from it, instead latching on to maul Emma’s breast as this final session quickly became a war of attrition. Emma latched on to Sara’s breast in reply, looked her in the eye, and the two women started to maul viciously, looking for any flash of weakness in the other. They jockeyed for position too now, Emma trying to use her grip of Sara’s breast to turn her into the turnbuckles. Sara resisting and using her own grip to pull Emma a little way along the ropes, both slapping again into the breast to retake their mauling grip. ‘I can do this all day, bitch’ Sara told Emma now, evidently feeling confident that her breasts could take it more than Emma’s could.



‘Well that’s good’ Emma responded to her, ‘because so can I!’ as she she squeezed hard, noting the first flash of unhidden pain from Sara as she did. It was never wise to underestimate Sara though. She was as tough as they come, and in pain or not, she was still a clever fighter. As Emma focussed on the breast maul, she found a new target and stamped on her foot hard, taking Emma’s attention away from Sara’s head which quickly caught her in the face with a short headbutt. Now Emma was rocked again, back against the ropes, and Sara went on to the attack, using the hair to hold her in place for a hard knee lift to the belly. Emma dropped to a knee and was wrestled into position against the ropes so that Sara could press her curves into Emma and choke her there. She ripped at the hair now, knowing any cry of pain would only serve to empty the lungs as the coarse ring rope cut into Emma’s throat, stopping her from refilling them. It could have been enough for the win maybe if she had simply held Emma there with the choke, but it appeared that Sara wanted to do things with a little more style. She raked her nails slowly, harshly, across Emma’s back now, angry furrows raised by the sharp red nails bringing a scream of anguish from Emma. ‘It’ll be over soon, don’t worry bitch!’ Sara told her a little disdainfully now, before she yanked the middle rope, sending Emma sprawling back to the sprung floor.



A kick to the ribs followed, sending Emma rolling a little further away from the ropes before Sara dropped a leg across her face, a punishing blow from a thick thigh, designed to stun and soften up any woman. Sara got off Emma now, leaving her prone for a moment as she stood over her before delivering a leg drop again, with venom, to rock Emma. It might have seemed like a strange setup for the super smother, but that was to forget the leg power that Sara had developed. It was a viable alternative to the smother, a head scissors hold that had both submitted Emma before and had the potential to put a girl out such was it’s effectiveness. And now a rough handful of hair saw her pull Emma’s head between those thick crushing thighs, into a traditional side head scissors hold that was applied with intent and thunderous power from the off by Sara. Immediately Emma cried out, her voice distorted as was her face by Sara’s thighs that so tightly framed it. She was in trouble, knew this was a hold capable of finishing any fight, and her hands went to claw at Sara’s fishnet clad thighs, trying desperately to force her into a break. In response, Sara slugged her in the belly, then pushed up on her elbows to raise the level of her hips, in turn raising the power and leverage the scissor hold had. ‘Aaaaggghhhhh……Aiiiiieeee!’ Emma moaned now, taking the punishing scissor hold but not looking like she had a way out as she started to push and claw at Sara’s thick thighs again. She was making short work of the fishnet stockings there, but having very little impact on the hold as she swung a leg up, trying to catch Sara unawares. Instead she found that Sara was very aware, and she trapped the leg, allowing her to fold Emma partly as well now. ‘Aagghhhh….no….NO!’ Emma moaned in response for the unasked question; she was desperately holding on, and trying not to submit.



Her hand reached for Sara’s face, weakly it seemed as she moaned in pain once more, and Sara brushed her off, keeping her in that folded position. ‘Give up you slut’ Sara told her now. ‘I was always the better woman’ she continued, tone conversational as she tried to cajole Emma into submission for now. ‘The title’s mine’ she reiterated, her powerful legs drawing a guttural cry of anguish from Emma, who looked to be on the verge of a defeat now surely. Jemma and Beth both sensed it, shifting anxiously in their seats as Sara poured on the punishing pressure and the situation began to look hopeless. Again, Emma reached for Sara’s face, weakly, almost listless in her movements it appeared; then Sara shrieked in anguish as she paid the price for ignoring the hand in her face and Emma quickly raked her eyes and found her way clear of the combined holds. She rubbed at her face and worked her head and neck around as she tried to work out the knots put there by Sara’s powerful scissor hold. Across the arena a couple of paces, Sara lay rubbing at her eyes, trying desperately to clear her vision, and Emma thrust out a kick to catch her in the ribs harshly. Sara groaned from that winding blow, but wisely she rolled further out of range, both women getting to their feet slowly, a little wearily, as the long fight was taking it’s toll.



They came back together again, a brief flurry of slaps and punches marking their latest engagement before the venom started to fade from the blows being thrown. Emma had better anticipated that would happen it seemed, going quickly for a knee lift to the body that struck home hard enough, making Sara groan with pain. Doubled up, she was ripe for attack now by Emma who clubbed her to her knees with a punch to the jaw. There, Emma ripped her to her back harshly by her strawberry blonde hair, and dived in with a big splash across her body. ‘UUNNNGHHH!’ Sara groaned loudly, feeling the air crushed from her body by 175lbs of Emma landing heavily across her, before Emma, loosely in a cross pin position, grabbed her hair and used it to help bounce her head off the sprung floor twice. Sara moaned again, dazed by the attack from Emma who thought she had found her chance to win the fight here. She floated her body across Sara’s crushing her breasts painfully for a moment as she shifted her naked ass onto the American’s face in a reverse face sit. ‘MMMMFFFF!’ Sara immediately complained, getting a face full of naked ass and pussy, and those few members of the crowd not already standing got to their feet, wondering if this was the bout coming to a conclusion. It certainly looked that way as Emma took a cruel double handed maul on Sara’s right breast now, telling her ‘I’ll milk these udders bitch!’ as she tried her best to make good on the threat. Sara screamed out in pain from that move, the pained protests mostly muffled though by Emma’s heavy face sit. It was clear she was in big trouble suddenly from the mauling, while she was suffering under the smothering effects of the face sit as well. She bridged, hopeful it would be enough to dislodge Emma but it was ridden out well by the auburn haired fighter. She ignored the chance of a crotch maul as Sara bridged, content to stay squarely on her face while she threatened to force the milk from her breasts as she punished it expertly with both hands.



‘My fucking tit!’ Sara moaned loudly from beneath Emma’s ass now, the pain and desperation clear in her voice. Emma just told her ‘submit, or I’ll milk you. Now moo bitch!’ as she squeezed the breast hard once more. The pain was insufferable and Sara’s hands raised as if to tap the thighs of Emma in submission. Instead she showed it was anything that would work in this match as her tongue went searching for Emma’s pussy while she gripped her thighs to hold her in place now. ‘HEY!’ Emma protested, totally taken by surprise at this change of tactic from Sara; she tried to keep up the mauling too, but there was little doubt that Sara’s tongue had found the mark to, at the very least, distract her. She tried to move away from the attack, but found the strawberry blonde holding her in place just for now with that firm grip of her thighs as she went to work, making Emma groan ‘ooooohhhhh……fuck…off……mmmmmm!’ suddenly realising that this surprise use of sex fighting could be very problematic for her. She redoubled her efforts to break free from Sara’s grip firmly anchoring her in place, and with one almighty effort she was able to do so, breaking clear of the grip and pitching forward a little, she landed her butt heavily across Sara’s upper body and breasts.



‘OOOFFF……fat bitch!’ Sara wheezed as she tried to roll into a foetal position on the floor to catch her breath.



‘How rude…’ Emma tutted as she ripped the strawberry blonde to her back on that sprung floor and dropped heavily on to her in a full body pin, lying crotch to crotch pretty much as she pinned her arms above her head. Sara was drained by the two winding drops from Emma following so soon on from the smother, and the time was here for Emma to look for the submission, and there was a glint in her eye as she realised just how to do it.



‘You might have been better bitch….’ she told Sara, looking directly in to her eyes as she clarified ‘just not today though!’. Her legs fought for control of Sara’s, searching for a moment before she had them hooked just right, and she started to spread them with some ease in a grapevine. Sara squirmed ineffectively as Emma ground her pelvis into her now, making it that little bit tougher for her to catch her breath before she had her right arm behind Sara’s head, pulling her face deep into her breasts as she plunged them heavily into her face. It was almost the super smother; at least as effective, and as Sara pulled at her hair, Emma still had her left hand free to cause some damage too. She told Sara ‘see bitch….I finally realised I have the tits to give you a taste of your own medicine!’ Then she hooked her nails into the right breast she’d punished so effectively in the reverse face sit moments earlier, causing Sara to scream into the near vacuum of her cleavage.



‘Give up!’ she told the strawberry blonde American who replied by swinging blind fists into her body in a desperate attempt to get free. She tried with all her remaining power and energy to roll Emma to no avail, before Emma reiterated ‘give up….you’re done!’



Now Sara pushed at her legs, scratched at them too, trying anything to get free before Emma worked her fingers in the breast once again as there was another intense cry of pain from the blonde, essentially choked off by a pair of E cup breasts planted squarely in her face. It was over now, surely, as Sara’s attempts to resist and escape weakened inexorably to the point she wasn’t really resisting at all, just enduring and hoping for a mistake. A mistake that wouldn’t come from Emma today as she used all of her 175lbs to grind Sara into the sprung floor of that arena now. ‘Give up. Don’t make me put you out!’ she told Sara now as one last punch landed in her ribs, before with the referee down close to the action, she heard Sara mutter the words ‘I submit the match!’



There were only two people in the arena that heard it clearly enough, the microphones unable to totally decipher the muffled admission of defeat. But they were the only two that mattered as Emma broke her punishing combination of holds, and rolled to the side of Sara, the two fighters just lying there for a moment or two, before Emma turned to Sara and whispered to her ‘are you OK?’



‘No’ Sara whispered in return, but she smiled thinly as she admitted ‘but only because you squeezed the shit out of my tit!’



‘Yeah….sorry about that….but not sorry of course’ Emma smiled in return, pulling her often times rival, and now friend into a hug there at the centre of the arena, sitting on the floor as they took a moment to compose themselves. Finally, both rose together, Sara hugging Emma once more before she trudged off to the changing area, leaving Emma alone in the spotlight at the centre of the arena. The referee, her white dress fairly shimmering in the spotlight as she stood next to Emma, now raised her hand, confirming what all on that rooftop knew; Emma was the winner of the fight. In the night sky, there above the top of the skyscraper, the drones hastily rearranged to spell out her name in lights once more, while the referee headed to the cushioned podium to collect the championship crown. She turned, walked back to the centre of the arena where Emma waited patiently for the crown to be paced on her head, resting atop her now dishevelled auburn hair. Again the referee raised her arm to the rapturous cheers of the crowd as the announcer made sure they were clear on the result ‘THE WINNER OF THE MATCH AND THE NEW WORLD CATFIGHT CHAMPION….EMMA!’



As the cheers rang out long and loud in the night sky and Emma acknowledged them, I knew that she’d reached the undisputed pinnacle of catfighting. I also knew that there would be plenty getting ready to dispute that position quickly, including one who had been close to the action tonight in Toni. That time would come, but for now, the crown was on Emma’s head, and it looked like it was in just the perfect place to me!



The narrative detailed above paints Emma and Sara as intense rivals within the world of catfighting, culminating in their final showdown in Dubai for the World Catfight Championship tournament. Both women had fought their way through to the finals, overcoming two challenging opponents each, knowing that their ultimate test would be facing each other, a rivalry deeply embedded in their journey to the championship.

Despite their intense rivalry in the ring, Emma and Sara had grown to be friends outside of it. Emma was relaxed and supported during her training sessions by the presence of her daughter Jemma and her friend Beth. Emma was also comfortable with Sara, sharing light-hearted moments even during their press conference. Both fighters reassured the press of their combative intentions for the final bout.

The stage for the final encounter was set atop a skyscraper in Dubai. The makeshift arena was surrounded by temporary stands, with a fighting area offering features of both a ring and a cage, coupled with a less forgiving surface outside the delineated square.

As the event drew closer, Emma was joined by her daughter Jemma and Jemma’s friend Beth, who helped her with training. Notably, Jemma hinted at possibly arranging her own match in Dubai, with aspirations to compete in Japan next. Meanwhile, Toni, a disgruntled fighter, observed the unfolding events, possibly contemplating her own future challenges against the winner.

The highly anticipated match began cautiously with both fighters exchanging slaps