Can Do Ep. 06

Ronja sat sideways on Yelena's back, one leg hooked beneath the Russian's neck in a pincer lock. The other leg pinned one of her arms to her side. The redhead squirmed, ass in the air, trying to push the blond off her. That only made the position worse. Ronja exhaled a sigh of satisfaction, blood flowing from the cut under her eye to smear across her breasts.

"Fuck her," a man said in a hoarse voice. Others agreed.

"I will do something better," Ronja answered, almost absently. The blonde fighter shoved two fingers into the redhead's ass. "Payback for earlier," she said.

Yelena convulsed at the penetration. Ronja settled more firmly on the Russian's back, closing her pincer on the captured throat. Yelena gurgled, her face flushed and angry. She worked a hand free of the complex hold, squeezing the Swede's cock dangerously. The managers gritted their teeth.

Both fighters showed the strain of the embrace. It looked like Yelena would give out first; her face was turning dark red. Her eyes fluttered. Ronja worked her fingers deeper into her opponent's ass, grimacing as she fought the pain in her strangled cock.

The bell sounded. "Ten minutes," Eric intoned. "If you do not break your clinch, you will both forfeit. We do not have many rules, but we expect you obey them. Five minutes rest."

Yelena let go of Ronja's erection, leaving finger-shaped divots halfway along its shaft. The Swede slowly removed her fingers from the Russian's ass, giving the sweaty ball sac a hard thump before going to a chair where her manager waited.

"Cheating." Yelena's manager sputtered. Her face was white with fury as she helped her fighter to another chair. The redhead put one hand over her balls, throwing a dangerous glance at Ronja, who smiled placidly.

"Accident," the Swedish manager said. "A slip of the hand. No more." She held a cold plastic bottle of water to her fighter's bloody eye. Ronja sipped from another bottle.

Yelena sprawled on the chair, legs spread, one hand massaging her balls until her manager laid and ice pack on her crotch. Another ice pack went over the right eye, which was swollen nearly closed.

"Looks bad for the Russian," Trinity said to Zenova. Roderick nodded in agreement, taking another flute of champagne from a passing server. It was always the same server who went by. Trinity wondered at the coincidence.

"They've fought five times," he said to both of them. "The Swede has won three, the Russian one, and a truly messy draw. That was a fight for the ages. There is no love lost between them."

"Yelena is not disciplined," Zenova pointed out. "She becomes angry and loses her sense of..."

"Strategy?" Roderick offered. The brunette nodded.

"Let's her fists and cock rule her brain. I know someone who used to do that." Trinity shook her head, remembering painful beatings as a boxer and two humiliating defeats as a sexfighter.

"But that person is much smarter now," Zenova squeezed Trinity's hand. Roderick noticed.

"I'm not sure I want to see you two fight," he said, cocking his head. "One of you is going to be severely disappointed come New Year's Day. Seems a shame to ruin a promising relationship."

"We've got through that already," Trinity told him. "Besides, it's a foregone conclusion who's going to win, right, Zenova?"

Before the brunette could answer, Trinity interrupted. "Me."

Zenova choked on her words, eyes narrow, furious. What happened next gave Trinity wet dreams for the next four months. The brunette took the blonde in her arms, dipping her into an old fashioned swooning kiss. Trinity's leg kick out involuntarily as Zenova probed her mouth with an expert tongue. Before she could respond, she was set back on her feet. Zenova adjusted her dress, her face coy.

"We will see, ma chérie. December will tell all."

"Ah. Yes." Roderick was having trouble speaking. "Well. If the two of you want a bit of, er, practice away from things, I can make one of my houses available. Purely for training, of course."

Zenova patted his cheek. "Thank you, Bunny. It is most kind. We will discuss it later, won't we, Trinity?"

The man walked away in search of more champagne. He seemed to have trouble adjusting his trousers. None of the other guests appeared to have noticed them; they were watching Ronja and Yelena stretch.

Trinity stood silently next to her partner for a moment, searching for something intelligent to say. She turned to Zevnoa.

"Fuck me sideways, babe. I think I came in my pants."

"Good. Oh, the fight is starting again."

"You're not mad? About me wanting to win?"

"I was. Then I realized if you were to simply, eh, roll over and submit, there would be no fun, no challenge. We must both be driven to win. It will make the fight in December one neither of us will forget. I hope it takes us a week to recover."

The women stared hard at each other with smoldering eyes that could melt titanium. Trinity took Zenova's hand. The bell sounded again. They turned back to the fight.

------

Chairs and managers out of the way, the fighters faced off, fists and cocks up, nipples standing well proud of the areolae. The brief rest had restored both women. The bruises were still raw, the cuts crusted over, but their eyes were bright, and their cocks dripped cum from engorged heads.

Yelena continued her attack from before the break, feigning a right cross that missed Ronja badly, following with a spinning foot to the Swede's head. Ronja staggered backward, caught off guard. The Russian tried for a takedown, but she was late recovering from her kick. The pair tumbled to the floor, groping for control. Yelena lost her advantage quickly. Ronja punched her repeatedly as they lay on the mat. Blood flowed from new and re-opened cuts on her face. A large bruise formed on her right breast. It didn't stop her from returning almost as many blows as she got. Almost. That was the problem. Ronja was wearing her down.

A hard left to the liver left Yelena gasping for air. Ronja flipped the woman on her back, spreading the lax legs to drive her cock into the Russian's pussy in a scissors position. She lifted Yelena's left leg over her shoulder for better leverage, gripping the hard cock with a massaging thumb under the swollen glans. People cheered the first actual penetration of the fight.

"Took long enough," a man said to his companion.

"It's been worth the wait," the woman replied, rubbing her ass against his crotch. "The way they beat each other is so arousing. This only makes it more exciting."

Trinity began to wonder about the kind of people the Hexagon Consortium catered to.

It was hard to tell who came first. Ronja shuddered as she thrust deeper into her opponent. Yelena raised her hips to push back, thighs trembling with the strain. The Russian exploded in a huge climax, spurting cum on the Swede's chest and abs while Ronja bucked her hips in a classic sign of orgasm. The women locked eyes, breathing hard. Without a word, they tangled again, rolling across the mat. Ronja's cock popping from Yelena's pussy in a flood of cum that coated both bodies.

Yelena and Ronja traded hard punches to face, breasts, and cocks as they scrabbled for dominance. The Swede dug two fingers into her opponent's pussy, making Yelena wince. She was answered with a Russian knee to her cunt. As she rolled sideways, Ronja's cock was smashed between a raw-knuckled fist and the rough canvas. A counter punch missed badly.

Both women were breathing hard from the exertion. Yelena levered Ronja onto her stomach; a punch to the kidney stunned the Swede. Yelena straddled the prone woman's ass, raising her hips to slide her long, rigid erection past the slick, puckered anus, deep into the ass. Ronja groaned. The Russian leaned forward, put her hands under her opponent's flailing arms, dug her fingers into the pale breasts, and pulled back. It was an improvised camel clutch that allowed Yelena to fuck Ronja from behind and still maintain some control. Another fighter might have gone for the traditional hold, which would have trapped the other woman, but made fucking almost impossible. The Russian managed to do both. Trinity was impressed.

The Swede went limp, the cock in her ass and the fingers clawing her breasts seemed to have been too much. Yelena beamed a triumphant smile--until Ronja bucked to the side, which knocked Yelena off balance. Quicker than the guests could follow, Ronja was on top of Yelena, facing her feet, still impaled on the Russian's hard shaft. Her own cock waved in the air. More cum bubbled from the slit. Zenova poked Trinity softly, a sly grin on her face. The blonde smiled back; they'd both seen it coming.

Ronja flexed her hips, massaging the shaft buried in her back door. A pale hand reached around to stroke the Swede's cock. Ronja slapped the hand twice before giving up to concentrate on making Yelena come again.

A long minute followed. Neither fighter spoke or moaned. The soft slap-slap of balls and crotches grinding together was the loudest sound in the room. The guests were focused on who would come first. It was Ronja.

The Swede closed her eyes, a blissful smile turned her lips up as she came, still working Yelena's cock. Cum burbled from the glans. It flowed down the shaft, over the Russian's clenched fingers, to pool on the two pairs of nestled balls. That was the only the start. A fountain of silky white essences shot up in high arcs, the first reaching Ronja's lips, the second and third splatting on breasts and stomach. Rivulets of cum ran down the Swede's body, matting her pubic hair, continuing down to coat the Russian's thighs.

Yelena put the hand that wasn't still pumping her opponent's cock to her mouth in a failed attempt to stifle the scream that accompanied her own orgasm. She shivered uncontrollably for several seconds, shoving her cock as far into Ronja's ass as she could. The Swede continued to sigh contentedly. It was obvious she thought she had won that exchange. Most of the guests agreed.

"Same rules as for us, right?" Trinity asked. "It's not who comes the most, but who's still hard at the end?"

"Yes," Zenova answered with a firm squeeze to the blonde's crotch. "How many do you count?"

"Four for Ronja. Three for Yelena."

"D'accord," the brunette agreed.

"How long do you think they can keep up the pace?" Trinity was pretty sure she knew the answer.

Zenova pursed her lips. "In the third match between Takeuchi and Meynell, they each came eight times in nearly an hour. Other enhanced fighters have done the same. These woman have done half that in sixteen minutes. If they maintain their pace, and I think they can, they will have about eight orgasms each in thirty minutes, which is truly impressive."

"Your grandmother told me the last two matches between those two are stored on your video system. You think you can bring yourself to watch them?" Trinity wasn't quite sure how her partner would react. "Takeuchi might lose both."

"Yes," Zenova answered, surprising the blonde. "I think I am ready. Takeuchi will lose the next fight. I know that, because Grand-mère revealed the winner to shame me in front of you. But I am told she brings Meynell to huge orgasm in the eighth match, tying the series at four wins each. We can count orgasms together. If we are lucky, we can have half as many watching them."

The pair turned their attention back to the fight, where Ronja was sliding off Yelena's cock. The Swede punched the Russian's balls as the cock slurped out of her ass. Yelena gritted her teeth, waiting until Ronja crawled clear of her. The redhead slapped the heel of her foot into the blonde's sac in retaliation. Trinity glanced toward the managers, who stood unmoving. They were reaching the point of no return.

The fighters stood, facing each other with fists raised. Both were spattered with blood and cum. Sweat dappled their bodies. Despite fighting for nearly twenty minutes, neither seemed ready to give up.

They traded punches and kicks, each staggering the other with a swift foot to the head. The fight changed direction when Ronja delivered a stinging flurry of punches to head and body, sending Yelena crashing into the pool. The Swede followed her in, going down for a ground and pound clinch. The koi retreated to the ends of the pool, away from the carnage.

Ronja held Yelena's head under water, punching her in the breasts and abs. Amazingly, the Russian landed several hard blows to the Swede's core that slowed what looked to be an inexorable march to victory. Ronja shook off the punishment. She raised her fist for one more, huge right cross.

The bell sounded. "Twenty minutes," Eric said. "Ms. Lindsrom, if you finish your punch, you are disqualified. Five minutes rest."

Ronja stood, water dripping from her, right fist clenched. She'd been so close. Trinity knew how she felt. Her last match in the States had gone longer than expected because time expired while she was fucking her opponent unconscious at the end of the first round. She'd won easily after the rest period. Her opponent hadn't been able to recover; she'd come and passed out in the first minute of round two.

Ronja and Yelena looked terrible. Both sprawled in their chairs, legs spread wide. Ice packs covered cocks and balls. Ronja had a second pack over the left eye. Yelena held one atop a massive welt on her right breast. Most of the blood and cum were washed away by the water, but their bodies showed the toll of a vicious fight. Fresh blood dripped from battered noses and split lips, oozed from cuts on faces and breasts. Angry bruises were turning dark. Yet their eyes were fierce, their cocks were hard, their fists were clenched despite split knuckles. Being enhanced apparently made a woman nearly immune to the pain. Until later. Only three days for them to recover amazed Trinity. Any lingering desire for Zenova and her to fight the same way vanished in the realization an enhanced fight was disturbingly arousing--with a huge cost she wasn't willing to pay.

What worried Trinity more was the way the managers exchanged murderous glares. Both fighters had broken the rules about leaving the balls alone. They were satisfied to thump testicles to make a point. The managers were ready to go to war.

The bell sounded for the final round.

------

The fighters wasted no time getting close to trade hard punches. They made little attempt at defense, each seeking to pummel the other unconscious. More blood splattered the mat. Yelena came twice in quick succession, once after delivering a nasty knee to Ronja's side and again as she was held by the neck from behind, her cock stroked to a violent climax by the Swede, who was simultaneously coming in her pussy. That made it five orgasms apiece, with no end in sight.

Ronja pushed her opponent away, grinning around her bloody lips as she watched cum drip from the Russian's ravaged cunt. "You are weakening, girl," she snarled. "You spent your strength too early. Now you lose."

With a feral growl, Yelena hurled herself at Ronja, taking them both into the pool again. She punched the woman beneath her with no sign of skill or training. She became a child, angry, trying to hurt the person who hurt her. Most of the blows didn't land, but Ronja's mouth and nose were under water; the Swede was more concerned with breathing than getting hit.

Yelena stopped hitting the water, her breath ragged. "I will show who is weak," she stuttered, fury making her stumble over the words. She shifted the Swede's body to put the blonde head on the edge of the pool, out of the water. "I want you to watch me fuck you until you pass out. Bitch."

Ronja spit water, her eyes dangerous. "I am ready, little girl."

Yelena slammed her cock into her opponent's cunt, mashing the blonde's balls with the force of her entry. She fucked Ronja hard and fast. The water roiled around them, miniature tsunami's that rocked the koi and splashed over the sides of the pool. Ronja locked her legs around the Russian's waist and met her, thrust for thrust.

The guests began cheering as it seemed Yelena might win. The redhead was oblivious to all but her anger. Her body shook with the force of her assault. Beneath her, Ronja showed the first signs of worry. She tried to raise up. Yelena held her back, hand to her throat. The other hand reached between the struggling bodies, taking the Swede's balls in her fist. She squeezed. Ronja screamed in fury, landing two quick jabs to Yelen'as face that opened a large cut on the Russian's cheek.

"Foul," Ronja's manager sputtered. "Your dyke cunt amateur cheats."

Yelena's manager showed a bland face. "Limited abuse."

Trinity saw the roundhouse left coming from across the room. The Russian manager didn't. She went down like a sack of flour. The Swedish manager hauled her upright and hit her again, harder. This time, the Russian didn't go down. She swung off balance, missing her target, hitting a man in the mouth. The guest tumbled backward into a woman, ripping part of her dress. The woman reeled from the shock, tossing a drink into another man's face. A woman laughed drunkenly. The woman who was with the man who'd been doused punched the laughing woman in the face. The man who was with the drunken woman punched the man who'd been doused. In an instant, an arousing evening of watching a sexfight became a wild west bar fight. Neither Ronja or Yelena noticed; they continued punching and fucking each other.

Zenova stepped in front of Trinity. The blonde pushed her aside to stand in front. "You're wearing a dress. I can move faster. And I'm used to getting hit."

"If you get hurt, I will punch you myself," the brunette said, though she seemed pleased Trinity was defending her.

"Back up, babe," the blonde said watching the growing melee. A server went down in a clatter of silver platter and champagne flutes. Two men tumbled into one end of the pool. Two women, hands in their hair, kicked each other viciously with sharply pointed dress heels. On the gallery above, Eric scanned the large room with growing horror.

"This way." Zenova had to raise her voice above the uproar. Trinity sidled away from the fight cautiously until her partner pulled her through an opening near one of the staircases. They were in a small alcove with a curtain covering the outside wall. They weren't alone.

Shiobhán Ó Frighil and her manager pressed against one wall. The young Irishwoman's eyes were alight, her mouth curled into a wide grin. "Amazin', eh?" she said.

"Stay back, Shiobhán. I don't want you gettin' hurt without cause." The manager's lilting brogue was as entrancing as her fighter's. Trinity felt her stomach flutter watching the young woman. It wasn't from being nervous.

"You two were quick," Zenvoa said wryly.

"No sense gettin' beat unless there's a point or some money to be made," the manager said.

"Or some fun to be had," Shiobhán added. Her sparkling green eyes lingered over Zenova and Trinity. The meaning was clear.

"Yup, I almost always choose fun," Trinity said with her own grin. "Unless I need to eat."

"Or you are bored and can't think of anything else to do." Zenova wrapped an arm suggestively around Trinity. "This one is insatiable."

"I like a challenge," the young redhead replied. She licked her very nice, very full lips.

"But she is not for you," Zenova told her. "Not until you and I have had some fun."

"Sure and it's a terrible thing to have that fun interrupted before it even gets started." Shiobhán's face fell a little. "I won't be able to say I tangled with Zenova de Crie again and made her come at least once."

The manager tapped her fighter's head lightly. "Be polite, Shiobhán." She turned green eyes to Zenova and Trinity. "The girl's eager, but a bit unpolished, if you catch my drift. Needs experience."