Dolly, Daisy, and the Diamonds

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A feisty country singer turns the tables on a female crook.
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42-year-old country singer Dolly Donovan was in a bind - literally. Tied to a wooden chair in her own kitchen at her remote Texas ranch, the blonde country music star was seething with anger. She'd been shooting the video for her latest single, which involved her and some identically-dressed lookalikes dancing at a party, with Dolly wearing a priceless diamond necklace. The necklace was real - on loan from a high-end jewelry company, who'd sent a security guard to supervise the handling of the priceless item. The shoot had gone well, and all the dancers and film crew had gone - or so Dolly had thought. But a few minutes later, one of the dancers and her manager had suddenly appeared out of nowhere, having hidden somewhere in the house as everyone else left. The man had shot the security guard in the legs and locked him in a back room, before relieving Dolly of the necklace and tying her to the chair, hard and tight, her arms behind her back.

29-year old Daisy Smith was looking pleased with herself. Her boyfriend's plan had worked perfectly, and the arrogant, lazy bottle blonde was looking ahead to a life of luxury and leisure in Mexico. It was a short drive to the border, and Miguel had already departed. The plan was that he'd make sure the corrupt border guard he'd bribed was in place, then call Daisy, who'd bring the necklace. They'd cross the border together, using the money from the sale of the necklace to procure new identities and disappear forever, living as millionaires. Daisy was a dancer and stripper with a long criminal record, only recently paroled from prison for drug and prostitution offenses. The parole board had told her that this was her last chance, and that if she committed any more felonies, she'd be looking at a life sentence. But she was dumb and greedy, and thought Miguel's plan was her ticket out of her situation. She'd taunted Dolly, and had slapped her face a couple of times as the country singer was tied to the chair.

"You spoiled rich bitch," Daisy hissed. "Well, I guess I'm a millionaire now."

"Unlike you, I work damned hard for my money," Dolly replied. "Why, if I wasn't tied up, I'd kick your ass."

Daisy took her small automatic pistol out of her purse and waved it menacingly in Dolly's face.

"I'd like to see you try, bitch."

At that moment Miguel called and told Daisy that their man was in place, and that she should drive the short trip to the border so they could all cross together.

"I guess it's goodbye, honey," Daisy sneered. "I'll be safely over the border before anyone finds you and raises the alarm."

She left through the door and walked into the yard, setting out across the grass for her car, which had been left by the back gate.

Dolly thought quickly. She was damned if these crooks were going to get away with this. The feisty and resourceful blonde singer knew Miguel had tied her expertly and tight, but she had an idea. The old wooden chair she was tied to was quite flimsy, so she started rocking backwards and forwards, until the chair was lurching from side to side, before tipping over, and breaking into several pieces. This enabled Dolly to get free of the smashed chair, and crawl across the floor to a kitchen drawer, pulling it open so that the contents spilled onto the floor. She managed to pick up a serrated knife, and then used it to saw away at the ropes, which finally fell away.

Rubbing her sore wrists, she quickly found her phone and called the police, telling them to intercept Miguel and the corrupt border guard at the remote crossing a few minutes away from the ranch, and telling them to come to the ranch too, to arrest Daisy. The police quickly acknowledged the call, but said that because of a major incident that had tied up all available units, it would be at least half an hour before they could get anyone to respond. Dolly hung up and made up her mind. Even if Miguel got away, she was determined to stop Daisy. And without the necklace, Miguel would have no leverage at the border with his corrupt guard, and no means of support even if he did somehow get across into Mexico.

Daisy was walking briskly across the short grass. It was a hot, humid day and she was sticky with perspiration already. But her car was only a few minutes away and she felt pleased with herself at having gotten away with a fortune. She was dressed as she, Dolly and the other dancers had been for the video, in typical country girl clothes: light blue denim short shorts that showed off her long legs, a flimsy, low-cut sleeveless cotton top, and white open-toed high-heeled mules. Suddenly, something - maybe a faint sound - made her look behind her, and to her horror, she saw that Dolly had somehow got loose, and was running after her across the grass.

Panicking, Daisy ran too - not an easy task in the 4" high-heeled mules.

Now Daisy had seen her, and she'd lost the possibility of surprising her, Dolly had no reason to keep silent.

"Oh no you don't," Dolly yelled. "You ain't gettin' away."

Daisy's heart was pounding with fear, and the panicking girl crook awkwardly unhooked her purse from her shoulder as she ran, her trembling hand reaching for her small automatic pistol. But the diamond necklace was in the tiny purse too, and she lost valuable seconds fumbling for her weapon as the gun and the necklace had got tangled up. Finally, she drew the small gun out of her purse, thinking she'd still have plenty of time to stop, take aim and shoot the interfering country singer. But to her horror, as she glanced behind her, still running awkwardly and unsteadily in her high heels, she saw Dolly right behind her.

Dolly had realized the danger, and knew she had to act fast. She'd kicked off her high heels and was barefoot, quickly closing the gap between her and the fleeing girl crook. Before Daisy could react, Dolly dived full length, wrapped her arms round Daisy's long shapely bare legs, and brought her down with a bone-crunching diving tackle, hard on the grass. Screaming with shock and pain, Daisy lost her grip on her gun, and dropped the purse, the diamond necklace spilling out onto the grass. Daisy looked at the necklace and then at the gun, panicking and indecisive. She then crawled towards the gun, only for Dolly to grab her by the ankle and pull her back, screaming with rage and frustration, her fingers only inches from the automatic pistol.

Daisy kicked back viciously, catching Dolly in the shoulder with her high-heeled shoe, making her wince in pain and let go of her ankle. Daisy scrambled across the grass, scooped up her gun and turned, her face a mask of rage, raising the weapon. Dolly knew she only had seconds to spare and pounced on the girl crook in an instant, slamming into Daisy, grabbing her wrist and forcing her arm up as she fired, the shot going high. They rolled over and over, the gun going off several more times as the enraged Daisy tried to shoot her, but Dolly was gripping Daisy's wrist savagely, so she couldn't aim the gun at her. Dolly slammed Daisy's hand onto the grass repeatedly, twisting her wrist, screaming at her to drop the gun. Daisy finally lost her grip on the weapon, and the two women fought and struggled, now on more equal terms. Daisy was younger and taller than Dolly, but her unhealthy lifestyle was a disadvantage and evened things up. Dolly may have been older and shorter, but her hard work and exercise regime, and her outdoor lifestyle at the ranch meant she was tougher than she looked.

The two identically-dressed women rolled over and over on the grass, fighting wildly. They hit, slapped, scratched, spat, bit and pulled hair, gasping with effort and screaming insults at each other. Their sweaty bare legs tangled and kicked as they rolled over and over on the grass, Daisy's high heeled shoes coming off as they rolled and struggled. Coming to their knees, facing each other, they raked at each other wildly with their nails, and tugged savagely at each other's tops, the flimsy garments soon being torn off. Hands clawed and pulled at bra straps, which soon snapped or came off the shoulder. Before long, both women were topless, clad only in their tiny denim short shorts.

After ten minutes of desperate struggling and grappling, both women were soaked with sweat, slipping and sliding off of each other as they rolled over and over, gasping and grunting with effort. They looked like 2 oil wrestlers who detested each other and whose wrestling bout had become an out-and-out catfight. Seeing she was getting the worst of it, despite being younger and taller, Daisy again made a lunge for her gun, only to have Dolly drag her back, screaming in frustration, as her fingertips brushed the fallen weapon, but without her being able to pick it up.

The women continued to struggle and fight, until Daisy rolled Dolly onto her back and scrambled astride her, straddling and pinning the country singer, yelling in triumph.

"Y-you b-bitch", she spat, "I-I'll show you."

Instead of trying to finish her opponent off with a punch, or by slamming her head on the ground, Daisy - overconfident, and thinking all the fight had gone out of her opponent - proceeded to slap Dolly hard around the face, palm and then backhand, rocking Dolly's head from side to side with each blow. Dolly knew she had to act quickly. She was fit and well-toned, so bucked, arched her supple back, then suddenly kicked up her legs, wrapping them around Daisy's shoulders and bringing them down again sharply, toppling the screaming girl crook backwards off of her.

"I-I'll kill you," Daisy hissed, again scrambling towards her gun, and this time reaching it before Dolly - still dazed from the slaps - could react. Dolly noticed one of Daisy's high-heeled shoes on the grass beside her, and scooped it up just as Daisy, sobbing with rage, raised the gun. She hurled it at the murderous girl crook just as she fired, making her flinch and spoiling her aim just enough for the shot to go wide. Before Daisy could aim the gun again, the enraged Dolly - adrenaline flowing after her narrow brush with death - launched herself at Daisy, their sweat-soaked bodies slapping together with the sound of two pieces of wet meat, powering into the evil bottle blonde and sending both women tumbling down the steep grass slope at the border of the ranch.

Legs tangled, hands in each other's hair, pulling savagely, the two women rolled over and over down the slope, unable to stop themselves, yelling and screaming, until they rolled off a ledge and down towards the creek. But, it being summer, the water wasn't flowing and the bed of the creek was a muddy swampy area. The two women, still tangled together, fell a few feet, screaming as they went, before they hit the muddy creek bed in a huge spray of mud. Stunned by the fall, despite being cushioned by the mud, which prevented serious injury, both women were breathing heavily, and were disorientated to some extent, not least through being in a state of virtual exhaustion from their lengthy and strenuous struggle. Daisy recovered first, and realizing she was close to the back gate, got to her feet and staggered along the muddy creek bed, towards where she could see her car, maybe 50 feet away. Her nerve had gone and while she no longer had the gun or the diamond necklace, she had enough criminal contacts that if she could just get away, she'd be able to call in some favors and disappear, getting a new identity and perhaps leaving the country. The car keys and a change of clothes were in the vehicle, so while she may not have the diamond necklace, she knew she'd be almost certain to get away if she could get to the car.

Dolly blinked her eyes to clear her head, and saw Daisy staggering away, unsteady on her feet, heading for the car.

"Oh no you don't, missy," she gasped, running furiously after the fleeing girl crook.

Daisy had nearly made it, and her car was just a few feet away, when Dolly closed the gap, dived and brought her down in a diving, mud-splattering tackle. With a scream of shock and rage, Daisy lashed out at Dolly and the fight resumed, with both women rolling over and over in the muddy creek bed, slapping, scratching, and pulling hair. The mud coated their bodies and was so slippery that it made it very difficult for either woman to get any meaningful grip on the other. Muddy bare legs tangled and kicked as they rolled over and over, slipping and sliding off of each other, muddy sweaty bare breasts clashing as they rolled, first one then the other on top.

Finally, muddy, sweaty, disheveled and exhausted, the two women came to their knees, facing each other, breathing hard, sucking in breath. Glaring at each other, and hurling themselves at each other, their muddy bodies slammed into each other with a wet slapping sound. Each woman gripped the other in a bearhug, squeezing tight, hoping to drive the breath out of her opponent. Breathing hard, each woman struggled to tighten her grip. Daisy was younger, but Dolly was feisty, determined and fit, which evened things out. Sweaty muddy bare breasts ground together as each woman struggled for dominance, glaring at each other, their faces inches apart.

"I guess you'll be doing this in the prison yard with some bull dykes," Dolly hissed at Daisy.

Daisy's eyes were wide in terror, and the arrogant girl crook was panicking with the realization that if she couldn't get away, she'd be spending the rest of her life in a brutal women's prison, all hope of parole gone. She knew that with the robbery, Miguel's shooting of the security guard, and with her attempts to shoot Dolly, she'd get life for sure. Sobbing and panicking, she lost concentration and struggled to break free. Dolly felt the pressure ease a little as Daisy struggled. It was all she needed. She held the panicking bottle blonde more tightly, squeezing even harder, gasping with effort, their muddy bare breasts squashed painfully tight together.

Daisy's arms fell to her side. She raised them again, weakly scrabbling at Dolly's slippery muddy body, desperately trying to get the blonde country singer back into a bearhug. But she had nothing left, and her arms fell limply to her sides again, even as Dolly increased the pressure of her bearhug.

"G-get off of me," Daisy sobbed, her nerve gone. "L-let me go."

Daisy was now limp and unresisting, only being held up by virtue of the fact that Dolly had her in a bearhug. Her arms hung limply at her sides and her eyes were glazing over and beginning to roll back. But Dolly was determined to end the fight decisively. Before Daisy could pass out, she released her grip, drew back her arm and balled her fist. Daisy could do nothing except look on in terror as Dolly unleashed a savage punch and yelled out in triumph, determined to pay the girl crook back big time for nearly shooting her. The blow hit the sobbing and terrified girl crook in the jaw and her head snapped back sharply, with Daisy landing hard on her back on the creek bed, mud spraying everywhere.

"G-gotcha, bitch," Dolly gasped, scrambling astride the defeated girl crook, sitting astride her and straddling her.

She grabbed Daisy's wrists and pinned them in her hands, with her arms above her head on the ground. Looking down at Daisy, it was only then that she realized the girl crook was out cold, her body limp and unresisting. Breathing hard, Dolly kept her position on top of Daisy, in case she regained consciousness, but she was out cold for now, so it seemed. After another 20 minutes, Dolly heard the siren of an approaching police car, and realized that had she not stopped her, Daisy would indeed have got away.

Daisy came slowly round, blinking her eyes in confusion, disorientated, dazed and sore all over. She was still half out of it, but as she cleared her vision her memories came flooding back, and a look of utter despair came over her face as she realized her situation. She looked up desperately at the muddy and sweaty country singer, who was still straddling and pinning her.

"G-get off of me", she sobbed. "L-let me up. L-let go of my wrists."

It was hopeless. Daisy struggled weakly but was still only semi-conscious. She kicked weakly, bare feet slipping uselessly on the muddy creek bed, unable to get any traction. She bucked, but again, it was hopeless. She had no strength left and Dolly had her flat on her back, straddled, pinned and helpless.

As the police car pulled up and the two astonished cops ran over towards them, the victorious Dolly excitedly told them everything that had happened, still sitting astride her beaten foe, still pinning her wrists, even though it was all over for Daisy. All Daisy could do was lie there and sob, a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, knowing that this older woman who she'd written off as a spoiled rich bitch had got the better of her in a fight that had deprived her of a millionaire lifestyle and condemned her to a life sentence in a brutal women's prison.

Finally, the cops told Dolly she could get off the beaten girl crook. She stood up slowly, smirking down at Daisy with a look of triumph on her face. Daisy couldn't meet her gaze and looked away, tears of rage and shame streaming down her face. The cops dragged her roughly to her feet, twisted her arms behind her back, and cuffed her, reading her her rights, and telling her she was being charged with attempted murder, wounding and robbery, with more charges likely to come.

Scratched, bruised, sore, sweaty, muddy, topless, disheveled and barefoot, the beaten girl crook was led to the police car and bundled into the back seat. Her body was shaking with sobs and she was crying hysterically with a mixture of rage, frustration and humiliation, knowing she'd been beaten by the better woman.

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