Sara's Profile Page        Go back to Home Page   

Stars and Strips

By Wolfboy

Now it’s Sara’s turn to fight in the tournament semi-finals with the chance of facing Emma on the line.

Emma had managed to find her way, just about, into the final of the tournament to fight for the new world catfight championship in Dubai, and the other semi-final would provide her with her opponent. But would it be Sara, her friend and old rival that would meet her there, or would Alina Lebedeva, a fighter now being known as ‘The Ravaging Russian’ that she would fight. As Emma recovered from the hard action in her fight with Priya back in the dressing room, we had the feed of the match streaming to the TV in the room to see just what would happen.

First to enter the ring for the fight was the imposing jet haired Russian, Alina, fresh from her impressive victory in the tournament’s first round. She looked an impressive woman certainly, coming to the ring already topless, this time wearing just a paid of tiny red hotpants that could almost have been sprayed on, so tightly they clung to her rippling thighs. She had a small Russian flag on the right leg of her hotpants, just near the hem, and she had her nails painted mainly red, but with hints of blue and white to represent the colours of the Russian flag too. She was well enough received by the crowd, most of who had seen her fight in the first round of the tournament, and were anxious to see her in action again here. She had fought a real back and forth catfight in the first round with her very traditional catfighting style impressing most who had assumed that the clearly well toned, athletic woman might fight in a more trained and refined style. She now waited in her corner, calmly awaiting the arrival of her opponent Sara.

Of course, the strawberry blonde Southern Belle didn’t keep her waiting too long. If there was one thing we knew without a doubt it was that Sara was a woman every bit as keen to fight as her opponent here. She made her way to the ring looking a little more demurely attired than the other three fighters that had been seen so far this evening, wearing a ruby red silk gown that was belted at the waist and came below her knees. That didn’t hide the fact that she was wearing red fishnet stockings on her thick and powerful legs, but the rest of her attire remained a mystery for the rime being as she slipped between the top and middle ring ropes to enter the ring. Alina just eyed her with a distant interest for the time being, leaning casually on the turnbuckle in her corner before Sara did the same opposite her and the two fighters locked eyes across the ring for the first time.

‘Now ladies and gentlemen, this is the second semi-final match in the tournament to crown the world catfight champion. Once again it is no holds barred, with a twenty minute time limit and a period of sudden death catfighting if it is required to produce a result. Now our two fighters, first on my left from the USA, this is the current Southern Belles and Hong Kong Syndicate catfighting champion, Sara. She is 5 feet 9 inches tall, 164lbs, 38DD-29-40 and has a record of 45 wins and 13 losses.’ Sara stepped forward now as she unbelted her gown, allowing it to fall open to show that she was more than ready to match the busty Russian in fighting topless. She wore just a red thong to go along with her hold up fishnets. Soaking up the applause of the crowd, she turned back to her corner, hanging the gown over the middle rope there, while the announcer continued. ‘Her opponent on my right from Russia is the current Moscow Maulers catfighting champion, Alina Lebedeva. Alina is 5 feet 10 inches tall, 178lbs, 40D-27-40 and has a record of 29 wins with only 1 defeat’. Not to be outdone, the Russian stepped forward, her jet black hair practically glistening beneath the bright ring lights. As the crowd applauded her now, she stripped out of her red hotpants, to show that as skimpy as they were, she would fight wearing less, in just a red G-string.

Quickly now, the announcer cleared the ring, the bell rang, and the action got underway with a surprise move from Alina who immediately rolled under the bottom rope to the carpeted floor on the outside, beckoning the ref and Sara to join her there. Anyone who had seen a Moscow Maulers fight knew them to be apartment style fights, fought on carpet rather than mats or a ring. Evidently the Russian had elected to take the fight to a setting more familiar to her given that the rules allowed for it. Sara just shrugged in response, and rolled out of the ring as well, but on her own side of the ring to ensure Alina wouldn’t get to jump her just as soon as her feet touched the floor. A fight was a fight after all, and there was nothing to stop the fight from going anywhere in the room , so it was better to fight there of her own volition. She walked straight up to Alina now, slapped her in the face, grabbed her hair and called her a bitch, and the fight was on in earnest as Alina grabbed hair and slapped to the body in return, telling Sara it was she who was the bitch here. Now this looked just like the opening of Alina’s previous fight in the tournament which had opened up with a prolonged period of hair pulling and slapping. Both she and Sara flailed stinging blows into the other’s body while they stood almost forehead to forehead on the outside of the ring, neither giving an inch.

The difference here was that Sara looked to escalate things quickly after trading a few slaps and she tested Alina’s body with two chopping right hands to the stomach to see if the Russian could take it. She grunted a little, certainly not ignoring the blows, but firing back with a couple of her own to test Sara out in return. Sara upped the ante once again, this time thrusting her nails into the underside of Alina’s breast, seeing the flare of pain in her eyes for a brief moment before the Russian fired back tellingly with a knee to the body. It was the kind of winding blow that doubled a fighter up, and Sara was no exception to that, leaning forward and straight on to a knee lift to the body and breasts that put her on her back on the carpet, looking up at the lights. That was, at least, until they were blocked by Alina coming in for a big splash across her body, and the early edge in the fight was with the Russian.

‘Weak American bitch!’ she declared, rubbing her forearm roughly across Sara’s face as she lay across her in something of a cross pin. She soon moaned in some discomfort though as Sara’s hand went straight to that G-string she had stripped down in to, wrenching the thin garment into something of a wedgie to punish Alina in return. Again the forearm ground across Sara’s face before Alina went hunting, trying to get a hand inside Sara’s thong, forcing the strawberry blonde to defend with desperately crossed legs. Legs that Alina now warmed with deliberate, heavy handed slaps that crashed off her thighs while she pulled and ripped at the tops of her fishnet stockings too. Neither were things to overly bother an experienced catfighter like Sara who kept up her wedgie on Alina and harshly dragged her nails along the jet haired Russian’s side to cause her some damage of her own. ‘Bitch!’ Alina moaned, her English accented but clear, before she caught Sara out with a hard punch, straight down into the belly. Sara groaned loudly ‘uugghhhh!’ as it was pretty clear that one had got to her, and Alina moved position quickly, looking to get Sara trapped in that figure four head scissors she’d used in the last fight to some effect. Her hand already pulling on Alina’s G-string though, Sara was able to block it for now with a crotch maul that saw the Russian suddenly moaning in pain as well. Her position gave her plenty of options of her own to attack now and following a stinging salvo of slaps to the breasts, she delivered another hard punch to the body that left Sara winded but still just about able to hold off Alina’s scissor attempt for now.

It was the grip of the G-string that was working in Sara’s favour just now, the skimpy garment just giving her that element of control to stop Alina from completing her move for now. Another punch hammered into her belly though while the Russian pulled her stocking top to try and force Sara to uncross her legs so that she might retaliate with a crotch maul of her own. Sara resisted still, switching her focus to rake Alina’s butt with her nails. It drew a shriek of anguish from the Russian, but was it a mistake from Sara? Released from the control afforded to Sara by the grip of her G-string, Alina moved quickly to trap the strawberry blonde Southern Belle in the reverse head scissors. Sara realised her error a split second too late and now her face was trapped, framed perfectly between the rippling thighs that were putting the squeeze on her. Sara grabbed back her her foot, at least stopping Alina from crossing her ankles just now but it was pretty clear to everyone that she was still able to bring quite some power to bear on her American opponent who moaned loudly at being introduced to the crushing force the Russian’s legs. ‘Now you submit, bitch!’ the Russian demanded, her accented English conveying her confidence that it was more or less a matter of fact now; Sara would submit.

‘No!’ the strawberry blonde scrapper replied strongly, quickly taking two body punches for her trouble. In reply, she whipped her own fists into each side of Alina’s body, as hard as she could muster only to realise it was probably her second mistake in quick succession. ‘FUCK!’ she exclaimed, possibly realising the error, possibly just feeling the pain that came as Alina finally locked her ankles and started to squeeze her harder now. ‘Nooo!’ she cried out again, trying to deny the pain as Alina sunk her fingers hungrily in to her breasts in a painful attack that drove Sara close to submission. Then the final piece of the puzzle from Alina; she shifted to take a reverse face sit, still maintaining the breast mauling, the tiny G-String barely covering her pussy as she rode heavily on Sara’s face. There was no escape from this position now, and Sara quickly tapped at the carpet, knowing that only five minutes had passed, and she could recover this position if she didn’t allow Alina to keep punishing her here.

As in Emma’s fight earlier on, a submission in itself didn’t provide much in the way of respite for Sara of course as the fight would continue when she got back to her feet, but it was still a preferable position to the reverse face sit she’d been trapped in moments earlier. Then she showed it to have been the clever move of an experienced catfighter who had been in the harsh glare of many a big fight before. Alina got close, anticipating when Sara would rise, but she got too close and paid for it as Sara half rose, then simply barrelled forward behind a lunging headbutt to the body and tackled the Russian to the carpet hard. Immediately the two were in a tangle there, hands in the hair, legs fighting for supremacy, and painfully for Sara, Alina’s fingers found her breasts again, drawing a quick cry of pain from the strawberry blonde American. Was the powerful Russian on the verge of overwhelming her again as they cat-balled at the feet of the ringside fans who watched on with rapt attention.

Then there was a surge of effort from Sara, needing to half roll Alina as they lay on their sides, facing each other, so that she might hold the upper hand. ‘Nyet! Nyet!’ Alina protested, willing herself on to stop Sara taking total control, without success though. Sara buried her hands deep in her thick jet black hair, got her nails in close to the scalp, and redoubled the effort, knowing that controlling the head by the hair meant that Alina was likely to follow what she demanded in the end. This was one situation where athletic prowess and power didn’t help Alina. ‘NYET!’ she cried out again, almost incredulous to find herself muscled on to her back by Sara. A final screech of surprise and anguish came, Alina’s shoulders touching the plush carpet squarely now, and Sara opened up, removing one hand from the hair to sting Alina with a flurry of slaps to the face and breasts. She pushed that hand to the throat of the Russian for a moment now, choking her, content to allow Alina to reach for the same from beneath her, knowing she was in charge and held the better position for now. Alina swatted a slap across Sara’s breasts that hung invitingly as a target for her now, and paid for it with a flurry of slaps in return that cracked off her face, turning those striking Slavic features a little redder with each impact.

Sara ragged her head around by the hair for a moment now, enjoying the moans that it elicited from Alina, and then she tried to shift her position quickly, hoping for the face sit. She was thwarted by a quick and well timed bridge by Alina that rolled her off to the carpet behind the Russian fighter’s head though. Alina wasn’t quick enough to regain her bearings though; Sara turned, grabbed her hair, and turned her to her front. It was the prelude to a clever attack from the Southern Belle. Alina had taken the fight to the carpet and now she was made to pay for that decision as, using a double handful of hair, Sara pulled her, screeching, along the floor. Plush carpet or not, friction burns were inevitable, especially when Sara cleverly and cruelly kicked her arms out from beneath her each time Alina tried to support herself that way. Perfect tactically from Sara who mixed it up by sending one of those kicks straight into Alina’s breasts this time, drawing another loud cry of protest which intensified as she was dragged across the carpet again, maintaining the punishing attack on the Russian. Alina tried to roll away now, finding that to no avail either as Sara still held her jet black hair securely, allowing her to turn to her back before wrenching her along the carpet once more, this time on her back. Again Alina screamed as she felt more painful friction burns starting up on her back; the she groaned loudly as the air was crushed from her body as Sara suddenly slammed a heel down into her stomach.

Immediately, Sara recognised that to be the kind of blow that had left Alina ripe for a smothering move and she dropped into place straight away. There was no cat and mouse employed in the tactics of Sara now; a grapevine was applied at full power, spreading Alina’s legs quickly. At the same time, the Russian’s head was controlled by a combination of arms wrapped around it and a little bit of hair pulling before it was pulled deep into her DD breasts. It was the super smother, a move from which few, if any, were able to escape and Alina was quickly under pressure, feeling Sara’s soft breasts so effectively denying her the air that she so desperately needed after the cruel stomp. Her fingers clawed at Sara’s backside now, trying anything to get even a fraction of a breath to help her keep fighting, but none was forthcoming.

‘Get your fucking claws out of my ass, bitch!’ Sara admonished her now, not receiving a reply of course, such was Alina’s predicament. Sara had her, the smother following that cruel stomp proving doubly effective it turned out, as Alina was forced to submit a little over half way through the fight, her hands frantically tapping at the carpet. Considering the evident toughness of both women, two relatively quick submissions had been forced to put the result in the balance as Sara rolled off Alina and wisely waited at a safe distance for the Russian fighter to rise. As she did, her body clearly displayed the fruits of Sara’s labours, with a number of friction burns there to see, primarily on her breasts, but across her legs, back and stomach too. Sara smiled at seeing the way they pained Alina even when she just moved. The Russian had made the decision to fight on the carpet; the strawberry blonde American had made her pay for it!

Now Sara circled round a little, getting between Alina and the ring, waving the Russian in as she challenged ‘come on you big cunt, fight!’ before she launched a slap at Alina’s face. It landed, palm smacking into her cheek, filling the room with it’s sound before Alina fired back one of her own to warm Sara’s cheek. She may have been in pain, but the jet haired fighter wasn’t a woman to back down, trading blow for blow with Sara for a good minute as the action quickly heated up again. Each swing from Alina threatened to open her up to attack from Sara though who looked, for the moment at least, to be landing the better blows even before she cruelly slashed her nails across Alina’s breasts. The fiery pain of nails further searing her skin was telling, drawing a screech of pain from Alina. It made her pause momentarily in her action, arms a little low, defending her breasts, just for long enough to give Sara an unhindered shot at her jaw which she took with a hard right hand. Alina was sent reeling towards the ring apron, where Sara used her hair to introduce her face to the pretty unforgiving surface. That left Alina dazed at least for the brief moment it took for Sara to make sure her legs were spread just a little and then reach between them to cruelly, but oh so effectively maul her pussy.

‘AAAGGGHHHHH! OWWWW!’ Alina bellowed in pain, returned completely to her senses in that instant as her voice filled the ring room even over the sound of the excited crowd.

‘Submit bitch!’ Sara implored, pouring on the pressure and looking for the quick second submission. ‘Submit or I’ll cunt you!’ she continued, making sure Alina knew what she planned for her.

‘NYET! FUCK YOU!’ the Russian asserted in reply, the end of her statement turned into another shriek of pain by Sara’s expert fingers. The pressure looked like it was becoming unbearable for her as her eyes closed tightly in pain. Was that submission coming? Sara certainly felt it, demanding it once more, but then the Russian fighter struck back, swinging an elbow hard into Sara’s body to force separation as the American clutched at her ribs, suddenly feeling some pain herself. The hard hitting attritional fight continued on the outside now, Alina willing herself on to slap Sara’s face then surprise her with an eye rake before leading her by the hair towards the ring apron. There, she say on the apron and pulled Sara in so that she could snap her thighs tightly closed around her waist in a body scissors that displayed her rippling leg power well. Now it was Sara moaning in pain and Alina demanding ‘now you submit bitch!’

‘No!’ Sara responded, firmly too as her hands reached to claw at Alina’s belly, hoping that might be the way to force the vice like scissor hold to weaken. Instead she left herself open to a slap that landed on her left ear, setting it ringing and quickly breaking her attempted claw hold. Another slap to the face landed, and Alina senses she had Sara stunned; she pushed both hands to the apron and used them to force her body up off it, allowing her to increase the pressure.

‘Aaaaggggh!’ Sara moaned loudly now, leaving little doubt that the crushing scissor hold was taking it’s effect as Alina’s thunderous thighs ground in tighter around her body. The American was in trouble for sure, but with both hands supporting her weight, Alina had gambled and left her own body open to attack. Sara took her opportunity too, this time reaching to claw Alina’s breasts, nails hooked in, making sure to target those friction burns she had raised. Now it was the Russian howling in pain once more, still maintaining the scissor hold though as the fight continued into the last five minutes of its allotted time. The spectre of additional time was perhaps starting to loom on the horizon as this latest battle of attrition continued, each woman knowing their respective attacks to he hurting the other, but neither wanting to submit to it. Sara twisted her nail in, digging deeper into the sensitive breast flesh, smiling through her own pain as Alina’s eyes closed tightly while she tried to ride out the wave of pain she felt. Alina did that and tensed her own thighs as her pain level subsided, suddenly forcing Sara to gasp in shock at the crushing pain she felt, trapped between her opponent’s legs.

Neither gave or asked for an inch now, staring at the other woman, almost daring them to up the ante as the seconds ticked by, determined that they wouldn’t submit, regardless of what the other threw at them. It was the cruel ingenuity of Sara then that won the day on the outside of the ring. Fighting in the harsher arena, as determined by Alina at the start, meant the unforgiving carpeted floor was always in play. As was the clever, calculating mind of Sara who correctly predicted that lifting Alina off the apron with that double breast claw would make the Russian cling tight with her legs to try and support her weight as much as possible. That allowed Sara to walk the few steps needed to turn Alina so that she faced the ring instead of having her back to it. Then, before Alina comprehended her fate, Sara dropped to her own knees and slammed the Russian hard to the carpet in one smooth, but highly painful move. It wasn’t without pain for Sara either, her knees enduring the jarring impact too, but she definitely got the best end of things as Alina groaned loudly from her winding trip to the floor and her vice-like scissors was broken. Sara took just a second to gather herself, there between Alina’s legs, and then she attacked, driving a knee hard into the Russian’s pussy before she climbed on to her, capturing her legs once more in a powerful grapevine.

Just as Sara had felt Alina’s leg power before, now it was the jet haired Russian’s turn to feel it as Sara spread her legs wide. Her throbbing pussy from the hard knee practically screamed at Alina as her legs went wide, and then wider still at the behest of Sara. That tiny red G-string did little to protect Alina’s modesty now, as Sara bore down on her, taking a moment to maul Alina’s battered breasts some more, noting how each stab of her fingers brought fresh pain to the face of Alina. For all that, Sara took her time too now; she felt that she had the Russian right where she wanted her, struggling against the grapevine fruitlessly, trying to writhe beneath her, but finding she was pinned very securely in place. Sara moved from breast mauling to a straight up choke now, her position of strength making her hands and arms tough to move for Alina who clawed and batted at her forearms, trying desperately to weaken her grip. Sara was slowly but surely tiring her out though, trying to wear her down, toying with her almost before she would drop her breasts heavily into Alina’s face once more. A forearm rode roughly across the mouth and nose of the ailing Russian now, further punishment to soften her up for the finishing move which came suddenly as Sara broke off her other attacks and dropped heavily into Alina’s face. Even now, there was a moment where she allowed the Russian to squirm, trying to turn her head to the side as escape or sanctuary seemed to be within her grasp. Then a handful of hair arrested that attempt, making sure that Alina’s face was presented perfectly before one, than two arms were around the back of her head, pulling her deep in to the smothering softness of her DD breasts once again.

Now the Russian finally appreciated her predicament, maybe a moment too late. She hadn’t defended the move, and now she was locked into the smother as she tried to writhe and squirm in any way she could to try and ease the practically air tight hold. And she was trapped it became abundantly clear, pinned there on the carper by Sara’s curvaceous yet powerful body, her legs neutralised, for all their power, by Sara’s grapevine, her air supply controlled by a pair of breasts squarely in her face. History would repeat itself now in the closing moments; a desperation move from Alina to claw at Sara’s ass drawing a rebuke from the strawberry blonde who commanded ‘stop clawing my ass, you cunt!’

Of course, Alina couldn’t comply, though she did switch to clawing with one hand while the other pulled on Sara’s thong, wrenching it into a wedgie. A slight moan of pain perhaps drawn from the lips of the strawberry blonde American, but crucially for the Russian woman, Sara wasn’t shifted in the slightest by the move. Time wasn’t on her side either, as the fight would simply continue without break if she was still trapped at the end of the twenty minutes without yielding to the super smother. Sara hoped she wouldn’t submit, not just yet, knowing that she would grind the winning submission out of her eventually with this move now. A tough fighter or not, Alina could only last so long without being able to refill her lungs after all. But Sara wouldn’t loosen the hold now, it was purely down to how long Alina might hold on for before she would submit, and the answer was not long at all as her hands started to thrash at the carpet, Sara pretending not to notice for the longest time possible before she broke the hold. A minute remained, scant time for Alina to mount any kind of comeback, even if she had been in tip-top shape. As it was, she was almost smothered unconscious by what had been an elongated and pretty deep super smother from Sara, who in turn, wisely rolled into the ring, going to the far side to await Alina there. The fight would restart when Alina hit her feet, but the clock was still ticking while she was down, meaning that less than thirty seconds were left when she stood up. Marginally less time remained as she made her way through the ring ropes to face Sara, who was waiting, patiently leaning on the opposite side of the ring for her. Alina rushed her and the last short act of the fight was furious with both women grabbing hair and punching bodies until the bell rang. The final act gave Alina no chance of any comeback; Sara was the winner of the semi-final, and there was going to be one last, and very public, showdown between two friends who had been such fierce rivals in the past.

The tournament final would be a little while in coming round, as the organisers wanted to ensure both finalists would be in top condition. But as Sara soaked in the applause of the crowd, my thoughts quickly turned to that match. Could Emma find a way to claim one more win against a woman who had so often had the better of her in the past? Friends or not, I suspected that they would tear the house down with the ultimate prize of being world champion on the line.