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Military Precision

By Wolfboy

Emma’s latest defence comes against a challenger with a military background

Emma had been afforded a little more time than Claire following their vicious fight for the World Catfight Championship before being pressed back into action in defence of the title once more. Time may have passed, but she’d really gone to war with her one time friend in that fight; had enough time passed for her to be totally on her game against a challenger we didn’t really know all that much about? We did know that her opponent was provided by the military of Italy, at least in the forming of her as a fighting woman. Still enlisted, but no longer on active duty, Major Allessandra Conti was something of the forces sweetheart now. Tall, curvy and with a shock of gorgeous dark brown hair, she could easily have been a model, but she had, it seemed, really found her calling in the field of catfighting. She had done so with the combination of discipline and control, but alongside a flair for good old fashioned bitch-fighting. In many ways she was a dark haired version of Emma to look at, a little younger, a little bigger too maybe, but not dissimilar. Would that discipline make the difference, or would it be Emma’s greater catfighting experience that held sway?

That was the question on the minds of everyone in the tightly packed small amphitheatre in the Italian countryside which been constructed especially for the event. Secluded, built in to the side of a hill, it was protected from prying eyes, with a grass circle at the centre of everyone’s attention. It was there where the two women would fight after making their entrance down through the centre of the crowd, down the steps of the amphitheatre, and on to the field of battle so to speak. As was often the way with the matches for this World Catfight Championship, we were back to one submission fights, without a time limit. The ultimate jeopardy for both the champion and the challenger that one error of judgement could be all it would take for either of them to lose the fight. Just before the circular fight area stood a small podium topped with a cerise cushion covered in silk where Emma’s championship crown would be placed, signifying the match was underway; only the better woman would be able to remove the crown from there and then place it on their head at the end of the bout.

The excitement grew as the referee and the announcer first made their way down to the bottom of the amphitheatre. The World Catfight Association had really outdone themselves this time with blonde twins, each wearing a skin tight catsuit that clung to their every curve alongside a pair of thigh boots. From my position near the back of the amphitheatre, it looked like the ring announcer was the taller twin, a fact explained, I noticed, by her high heeled boots compared to the flat soled pair that the referee wore. The only other difference came in the colours of their catsuits, black with white trim for the referee, fuchsia pink trimmed with rhinestones for the ring announcer.

It was the announcer, resplendent in the glittering pink who spoke now, knowing that for all of the preliminary bouts that had taken place, it was this one that everyone was truly here to watch. ‘Ladies….gentlemen….this is the main event of the afternoon. It is a no time limit, no holds barred catfight for the world catfight championship. It will be settled by a single submission without breaks’ she confirmed, just allowing the crowd that had gathered the chance to take that all in. A glance to the top of the steps now showed her that the challenger to the crown was in place, ready to go. ‘First, introducing the challenger this afternoon, from Arezzo, Italy, she is 35 years old, 5 feet 10 inches tall, 177lbs, and measures 38D-27-40, with a catfight record of 25 wins and no defeats, this is Major Allessandra Conti.

The brown haired challenger made her way down the centre stairs of the amphitheatre, moving with a lithe grace of a woman 40lbs lighter than she was, in her full dress uniform of black jacket, white blouse and black tie, along with a short, simply cut black skirt. Where the skirt stopped, just above the knee, a pair of black high heeled boots took over in a deviation from the standard uniform I imagined. Finally there was the gold trimming of the uniform jacket in particular, buttons glistening in the afternoon sunshine, epaulettes standing out on her shoulders. Her hair hung loose as well, possibly against military doctrine, but very much in line with catfight doctrine. And she was popular too; fighting in front of something of a home crowd, with an unbeaten record, she was clearly a favourite, and a challenger to be taken seriously. As Allessandra stepped on to the grass circle, the announcer diverted her attention back to the top of the stairs, waiting for the briefest of moments until my wife, the world champion, took her position there.

‘Now introducing the champion, from Staffordshire, England, she is 45 years old, 5 feet 10 inches tall, 170lbs, measures 40E-29-39 with a catfight record of 72 wins and 23 defeats, this is Emma Baines!’

Where the challenger had walked only moments earlier with the sunlight glinting off the gold of her uniform, now Emma followed with the light making her auburn hair look a shade lighter. She wore a long gown in an emerald green silk, belted tightly at the waist so that it gave no indication of what lay beneath. The gown did outline the swell of her breasts nicely though as it fitted snugly across her chest. The one thing I did know that most of the crowd had so far not seen was that beneath that long gown, Emma too wore a pair of black high heeled boots. A precaution; we knew Allessandra always wore a pair to the mats, but rarely did she wear them to actually fight in. The fact that there was no mat today, but a grassy circle instead had meant we were less sure if she would still fight in them or not.

As Emma reached the bottom of the steps, she paused, took the glistening crown off her head, looked at it briefly then handed it to the referee to place on the podium. Emma stepped on to the grass circle as well now, standing opposite the Italian fighter for the first time, giving the crowd a first took at how well matched they appeared physically. Both were confident too, smiling at each other, showing no need to try and berate the other verbally or look to steal a mental edge. Two confident woman who were slowly disrobing to fight for the biggest prize in the world of catfighting. The boots were the first to go for Allessandra, preceding the uniform and giving Emma the confirmation, were it needed, that she could also afford to lose her boots. There was no ceremony from either woman now as they prepared for the action, this wasn’t so much a disrobing to impress or arouse, it was the prelude simply to fighting which continued largely in silence from both. Allessandra removed her blazer and skirt along with the boots to stand in just her blouse and a pair of shimmering nude stockings, the rest of her fighting attire remaining largely covered by her blouse. Emma took that moment to eye her opponent and then she dropped her gown to the floor, allowing the green silk to pool up at her feet. She had chosen the simplest of attire for the fight; just a simple green lace thong and nothing else.

That in itself send a little ripple of anticipation around the amphitheatre now. A bold move from the champion against a fighter who loved to work on the breasts of her opponents, it brought a glint to the eye of the Major. But also a realisation that she would need to reciprocate or risk maybe losing a little bit of face in front of her home crowd. Now her white blouse came off, and Allessandra stood momentarily in an azure blue thong and matching bra, before she deftly discarded the bra, and provided Emma with healthy targets of her own to work on. Olive skinned, Allessandra now moved further on to the grass area having placed her outfit away from it, her azure blue thong clear against the colour of her toned body. Emma did the same, emerald green thong contrasting against her paler skin as her bare feet touched the grass for the first time.

The referee was ready, the crowd was ready, both fighters were ready; eyeing each other impassively for now at least. It was time; the referee indicated that they should fight as at the top of the steps a brass gong was struck once, and Emma and Allessandra went straight to each other. Not to fight, but to shake hands first; Allessandra was a sporting fighter, but also an uncompromising one once the action began. They broke apart and circled now, the opening act of a complex mystery that Emma would need to unravel if she were to retain her title. Caution reigned in the opening minute of the fight with jousting at range the order of the day. A slap to the upper-body from Emma was taken on the arm by Allessandra, the Italian replied, targeting the thigh with precision and no little power, only to have her face rocked by a sharp slap from Emma in return. Back to range, circling a little more, each with arms raised in a measure equal parts defensive and in preparation to strike again. Now Allessandra led off, raven hair tossing wildly as she caught Emma with a kick to the side and followed immediately with a slap to the face, hard and effective, it rocked Emma. Not enough for a second follow up kick to work though; instead Emma caught the Italian’s foot, trapped it against her side, and cracked three slaps hard into Allessandra’s right breast to make her groan in pain as she felt them. She shot back quickly though, a stiff right hand to the point of the jaw despite being on one leg at the time, sending Emma staggering back a pace or two before she regained her balance.

Allessandra didn’t follow in though, knowing she barely even had Emma stunned. A calculating and precise fighting woman, she knew better than to rush in early on; she was content instead to circle again, with both now having the earliest indication of what the other had. The jousting at range picked up again, an increase in the tempo and the urgency of it just evident as slaps started to land around the body of both women. Neither really concerned themselves with defence at this stage, preferring to pick their spots and return fire instead.

Allessandra missed the mark now with a big haymaker of a right hand, and that mistake opened her up to attack by Emma who paint-brushed her cheek with a slap and a follow up backhand, snapping her face side to side. Emma saw the opening and took it, using the Italian woman’s long brown hair to pull her in and send her straight over her hip to the grass. Even as she was falling though, Allessandra wrapped a hand into Emma’s auburn hair so that down in the grass when Emma completed a partial cross pin, she was prevented from moving into the smother by the strong grip of the Italian woman. Not an immediate concern for Emma though, she had one hand tangled up in her challenger’s brown hair which left her one free to target Allessandra’s body with two punches. The brown haired fighter moaned a little though it would take more than just a couple of punches to break through the shield of her well toned abs. Emma knew it, and moved on to target the breasts, sending another three rapid fire slaps into the right breast before converting the last to a grab and being rewarded by Allessandra writhing a little uncomfortably beneath her. Emma’s fingers dug deep, torturing the Italian for the moment, but she too had an arm free, and used it to send an elbow and forearm shot into Emma’s jaw, giving her another taste of her power. Another slap and grab of the breast followed from Emma, two more of those elbows followed from Allessandra though, and Emma knew she didn’t want to take too many more of those so early on. She scrambled free at the cost of some strands of her auburn hair, and got back to her feet.

Allessandra did the same, ignoring the finger marks Emma had left in the olive coloured skin of her breasts already. It wasn’t that she didn’t feel them, but she was a fighting woman who was aware that those early breast attacks were just part of the game. She straightened up, circled briefly with Emma, then came straight in, looking to tie up with Emma in a two handed grab of the hair. She didn’t defend her body as she attacked, didn’t need to either as Emma met her in a reciprocal style, and both with their hands buried deep in the hair of the other woman, started to try and bully each other around the grass circle. It had the look of an even tussle, the Italian woman maybe just being able to force Emma back a little on occasion., before both started to use their knees to test the body. That brought the action to a standstill again, just away from the centre of the grass circle, as both landed knees and tried to defend them with their legs alternately. Just as I’d seen Toni do to some effect against Emma in the past, Allessandra went now to the straight knee strike, directly into the belly, and landed three increasingly heavy blows. It felt like the Italian had done her homework well, finding a move which Emma struggled to defend against well it seemed, and as the third knee landed, Emma doubled forward a little. It was just the opening the Italian major needed to start to take control of the fight. An elbow around the back of the head dazed Emma, leaving her in that doubled up position for a heavy knee to the breasts this time. That left her straightened up, just fighting to control her breath as she was lifted with some ease and body slammed at the centre of the grass circle.

That was a jarring landing for Emma, and while she was a little relieved to find no follow up forthcoming from Allessandra, she did find the Italian waiting just out of range to jump on to the attack as soon as she rose. She was dragged, half standing into a tight front headlock, though she instantly drew a gasp from the raven haired fighter with a crotch grab that her blue thong provided scant protection against. If Emma briefly had the advantage of surprise as her fingers worked to get the best grip of the Italian’s womanhood, it was an advantage which was short lived. A clubbing right hand found Emma’s ribs unerringly just taking a little bit of the energy from her crotch grab, then she cried out as she found herself lifted for a second time. This time her landing was across the leg of Allessandra for a backbreaker which drew a groan that intensified as the Italian stretched her there to punish her. It was a first real chance for Allessandra to go after Emma’s breasts too, digging in with her left hand on Emma’s right breast while her other hand pushed down on Emma’s inner thigh. Emma cried out in pain, now feeling first hand that the brown haired fighter had sharp nails and wasn’t afraid to use them. She was bending Emma too, just enough to add a degree of discomfort she could have done without as she focussed on defending and escaping the breast attack.

‘Noooo!’ Emma replied strongly at the first suggestion she might consider submitting now from Allessandra. It was purely a question that there was nobody in attendance who expected a positive answer from the champion to. Allessandra smiled, worked her fingers that bit harder in Emma’s breasts, and waited for a change of heart. Instead Emma got both hands on to Allessandra’s left wrist, forcing it slowly off her breasts to gain some relief before she showed her flexibility to kick back in to the Italian’s shoulder. It surprised her, but didn’t stop her hold from staying in place for long enough for a hard fist to find Emma’s belly before she was pushed off to the grass at the feet of her Italian opponent. Always a bad position to be in, she took a short kick lashed across her breasts, before Allessandra dropped on to her with a splash of sorts, just taking a little bit more of the air out of her lungs. Allessandra wasted no time though, not wanting to pin Emma down, and instead pulling her back up by her auburn hair. Emma knew of course that she had to fight back, throwing a right hand to the body with some power, the dull thud of her knuckles hitting home, clear for all to hear. Allessandra was quick to cut her off though with a knee to the body, doubling Emma up so that an elbow around the back of the head could drop her to her knees. Once again it was a bad position to be in, as a knee landed right between her breasts, bowling her to her back in the grass.

Again, Allessandra dropped across her, a knee landing to the breasts to wind Emma some more, as well as softening up her breasts for the inevitable attacks that would come. She was resolved to that, but as Allessandra leaned in to grab her hair again, Emma countered, simply raking the Italian woman’s eyes. ‘Bitch!’ Allessandra hissed in her accented English as Emma used the distraction to push her off into the grass, pawing at her eyes. Where the Italian hadn’t looked to pin her down, Emma was more keen to do just that, forcing Allessandra to her back with a strong hand in her hair so that she could get her in a cross pin. Allessandra defended quickly with a hand of her own in Emma’s hair, but her other arm was scissored between Emma’s thighs while two resounding slaps crashed off her belly. The Italian groaned a little but she failed to spot Emma’s true intent as that hand was soon between her legs for a crotch maul through her azure blue thong. ‘Aiiieeeee…...fucking bitch!’ the Italian protested, belatedly crossing her legs to no avail as she simply trapped Emma’s hand in place, still mauling her.

‘You know what to do’ Emma pointed out, mauling her hard now, as the Italian’s face betrayed the pain she felt.

‘No! Never!’ Allessandra boldly replied though, determined to hold in there in the one fall fight. Her hand left Emma’s hair, pawing at her face for a moment before grabbing her nose, and using that to wrench Emma’s head to the side instead.

‘Pack that shit in…..Aagghhhh….you cunt!’ Emma protested against the move before the shock that came as she found it was only a short distance from nose to eyes for Allessandra to retaliate with an eye rake of her own.

The problem at first for the Italian was that, although Emma was taken aback by the eye rake, she also still lay across her and 170lbs of Emma wasn’t easily moved. Problem became opportunity for Allessandra though as she clipped Emma’s jaw with a short punch, then used that free hand to hammer away to the body landing three blows before Emma looked to roll away. Or at least it looked that way, but she brought a loud cry of pain from Allessandra, because she’s scissored her arm in the cross pin, and hadn’t relinquished that, torquing the Italian upper arm and shoulder as she did it. ‘No! NO!’ Allessandra shouted out though when Emma asked if she wanted to give up to the painful move. There was no quit in Allessandra just yet and the position that both women had rolled in to actually put her partially on top of Emma, looking directly at her ass. Once again, despite her position, Allessandra had the opportunity to counter; once again, she took that opportunity with apparent delight. Her hand was immediately between Emma’s legs from behind, inside her green lace thong, clawing ass and pussy. She was doing it with effect, it was clear from Emma’s anguished cries of pain. At this stage, discretion was the better part of valour Emma realised, and she was able to scramble clear with both women landing largely ineffective kicks to the body as they did so.

The opening act was done with as both got back to their feet, both adjusting their thongs and surveying their bodies for any signs of damage before they were straight back into it. There wasn’t circling now, each standing there in front of each other and starting to fight it out. This lengthy period of stand up fighting saw two proud woman not wanting to give an inch as they fought. Each displayed different styles, but common targets. Allessandra used straight punches aimed to the face, forcing Emma to defend, while her slaps to the body crashed into Emma’s breasts, nails dragging at times starting to mark her up. Each kicked to the opponent’s legs, looking to destabilise the other for a moment, knowing it would leave them open to a heavier blow. In return to Allessandra’s style of attack, Emma worked exclusively in flurries of slaps, combinations that targeted head and then body, guaranteeing that some got through each time. Of course she targeted the breasts too, but in the course of two straight minutes of stand up action, it was Allessandra’s straight punches that just started to carry the argument. Emma had defended them well enough, but each that landed did so with a little extra snap, rocking Emma’s head back amidst the flying auburn hair. Finally, she was forced on to the back-foot, a kick to the lower leg knocked her off balance, and one more right hand to the jaw clubbed her down to the grass again.

Just as Bindi had benefited from Emma’s work against Claire to win her title, it was clear that Allessandra had paid that match some attention too. It wasn’t hard to see that her game plan involved making sure she targeted those same areas as Claire had, sending a kick into Emma’s body that drew a sloppy gasp from the champion as the air rushed from her lungs. She tried to roll away, coughing, gasping for breath now, only for Allessandra to stop her by the hair. Seamlessly, she brought Emma to all fours, so that she could dim her lights a little with another clubbing elbow around the back of the head. Emma remained on all fours, but it was pretty clear that she was in something of a daze while Allessandra was a fighter who was all business. She straddled Emma’s back and used a short jump to crash her butt down on Emma’s body to flatten her. Then she sat on Emma’s back, high enough to get her arms across her knees, and trapped her in the beginnings of a camel clutch. Emma kicked her feet, tried to writhe in to a better position, then the Italian used her auburn hair to wrench her head back so that she could cup her chin with her other hand, and the move was fully on.

‘OWWWW…..YOU BITCH!’ Emma shouted out, feeling the stretch of the hold, already in pain as Allessandra just leaned back that but more to generate another level of pained cry from the champion. ‘You submit then!’ the challenger said, a suggestion delivered with the inflection of an order, but ignored by Emma for now.

‘No? No submit?’ the Italian chimed cheerfully, followed by ‘OK!’ as she released the chin hold and instead grabbed both of Emma’s breasts over her shoulders. Emma roared defiantly with a pain that had more than cleared that earlier daze from her head now as sharp nails dug into her sensitive flesh, sending fiery tendrils of pain through her body. Now she was under the greater pressure once again, trapped in an excruciating hold in a one submission match. Allessandra did all she could to worsen the predicament as well, moving her weight back a little as she got on to tiptoes, and starting to drag those nails to make Emma howl in pain even more. ‘NOOOOOOO!’ she defiantly stated though as Allessandra invited the submission again; not a huge issue for the Italian who continued to punish Emma until she leaned a little too deep into the camel clutch in her eagerness to force the submission and over balanced.

She fell off Emma who felt the relief of no longer being stretched and tortured for as long as it took her to rise, straight into the clutches of the Italian woman who lifted and body slammed her there on the unforgiving grass surface. Emma groaned with that impact and rolled clear, she hoped, only to rise slowly, straight into the waiting arms of the brown haired challenger who applied a hammerlock from the front, pinning Emma’s right arm behind her back. That opened the stomach up to two hard right hands from Allessandra, and as she slumped a little from that, she was swept up into a powerful bearhug. The Italian challenger was evidently a strong woman as she lifted Emma off her feet for a short while in the hold, causing Emma to throw her head back in some pain from the tightly constricting grip. The bearhug was tight, but it was one she thought she could deal with pretty quickly, clapping her hands around Allessandra’s ears twice, quickly getting herself free. Dropped to her feet in front of the challenger, Emma struck again quickly with a slap to the face and a punch to the body, setting her reeling. An attempted punt to the crotch failed though, Allessandra just shifting her body enough to block it with her thick thigh, and the Italian struck with a knee to the body and another of those potentially concussive elbows around the back of the head.

Now it was Emma who was dazed again, standing in front of the Italian who lifted her again in to a second powerful bearhug. Again, Emma’s head went back as she cried out in pain from the tight grip, feeling Allessandra’s fists grinding into her lower back as she punished her. Anxious to avoid Emma clapping her arms around her ears again, Allessandra dipped her head down, then noticed her proximity to Emma’s breasts. She almost shrugged ‘why not?’ and then bit into Emma’s right breast, bringing an anguished shriek of pain from Emma. The auburn haired champion, my wife, was in deep trouble again, feeling the pain from the molar mauling she was suffering, and finding the tight bearhug to be an effective move in slowly wearing her out.

‘Owwww…..ooooohhhhh…..oowwww!’ she moaned loudly, with her challenger not bothering to break off and see if she wanted to submit. Then Emma surprised her again, despite being in pain as she wrapped her arms around the back of Allessandra’s head. Instead of pushing the brown haired woman away from her to break the bite, she pulled her in tight for a breast smother. Now this had the potential to be a really decisive battle of wills as Allessandra neither relinquished her bite or broke the bearhug, while Emma pulled her deeper into her soft smothering breasts in return.

There were muffled sounds of concern from Allessandra now alongside the more clear moans of pain that her teeth were causing from Emma. The situation continued, those in attendance beginning to wonder if the Italian had made a mistake in going for the bite as her legs just wobbled slightly. Perhaps it was the first sign that Allessandra was troubled by the smother she’d found herself in, although Emma’s groans in the bearhug and bite combination also suggested that she was in plenty of trouble too. Her feet were on the ground now at least, allowing her to aim a knee into Allessandra’s side, although the close proximity of their bodies rendered it largely ineffective. It was another thing for Allessandra to think about as her legs wobbled again. Through her own pain, Emma told her challenger ‘submit, or you’re taking a nap now!’, her confidence growing that the smother was taking it’s toll on her. There was a muffled denial of that fact from the brown haired military mauler now, bringing with it some short lived relief for Emma as her teeth left her breast for the briefest moment. Allessandra quickly took the bite again though before Emma could press her in deeper still and smother her even more effectively, and the status quo continued a little while longer.

It was just as Emma invited Allessandra to ‘submit bitch!’ once more that she suddenly found herself lifted again in the bearhug in what seemed like a futile waste of energy for a fighter getting smothered, but Allessandra had something in mind for her. No sooner was she lifted, than Emma was dropped on to an outstretched leg, the victim of a pussy pounding atomic drop. It was every bit as effective as any Emma had used herself in her career, and frozen to the spot, her smother broken by the harsh impact, she was a stationery target for Allessandra to cruelly cut down with a one-two punch combination to the jaw.

Emma dropped back in the grass, a little glassy eyed for a moment before she cried out in pain as Allessandra stomped her right breast and ground her heel into her own teeth marks there. She had set a fire of pain burning in Emma’s breasts, and she was determined to stoke it as she flipped her to her front, and then simply grabbed both ankles to drag Emma’s breasts across the grass. It might not have been as effective as if it had been delivered on a carpet, but it still brought a shriek of protest from Emma before she was stunned again with an elbow drop around the back of the head. From my vantage point high up in the seats, this was just starting to take on the look of a fight that was moving more in the favour of the Italian woman, as she was the one who seemed to be delivering the more telling, more forceful blows. Always beating Emma to the punch it seemed too as Emma fell just short with a right hand to the body and took a hard knee to the breasts as she remained on her knees. Allessandra was into the hair now, using it to pull Emma to her feet, and again she tried to fire back with punches to the body as she was snagged in a front headlock. Then her back arched in pain as Allessandra played her finger nails up it roughly, scratching her skin and raising angry furrows there. Another knee struck home too, catching Emma in the body, driving the air out of her as each blow seemed to put her increasingly in control of the fight.

Maybe it was a mistake, driven out of lust to finish the fight as soon as possible then which saw her go for another knee to the body, only to find her leg caught and held up against Emma’s body as it struck home this time. Emma straight away hacked Allessandra’s standing leg out from beneath her to leave the challenger flat on her back in the grass. Still holding on to the front headlock, trying to convert it to a guillotine, but moaning loudly as Emma fought against that, swinging punches in to her body hard. Finally, Emma was able to get her head free of the hold, and pushed a hand straight into Allessandra’s face, to force the Italian’s head back a little. At the same time though, the brown haired challenger had worked her legs free to get them around Emma’s body. Once more it was a battle of wills perhaps as both women tested the other, each adding a breast maul to the mix to cause extra pain to the other. Allessandra tensed her thighs, making Emma cry out in pain at the power she packed, but in reply, Emma had the Italian’s face betraying her concern too as she closed a hand at her throat to choke her in return. Once more it was a fight in the balance, once more it was the Italian challenger who used her ability to retake control of the action. Emma with one hand choking Allessandra and her other hand working her breasts over was wide open to attack with heavy slaps to the face. Three landed at speed, the report of each clear and loud despite the outdoor setting, their impact enough to just stun Emma so that the Italian could use her strong legs to roll her to her side. Then her sharp nails were back in play, making Emma scream in pain as her breasts and body took the brunt of another attack. There was little doubt in my mind that Allessandra was starting to soften her up. Of course, the one submission rules meant that there was always an element of jeopardy still, but Allessandra kept control now, bringing Emma up to her knees as she released the scissor hold.

Holding Emma’s auburn hair, a paint brushing slap with palm then backhand was whipped across her face, a blow which would split Emma’s lip it transpired once Allessandra used her hair to pull her up off the grass again. The taste of her own blood was enough to spur Emma on though and as she was brought up, she surprised Allessandra with an uppercut to the belly. Then she went as catty as could be, grabbing a handful of brown locks with one hand, and simply scratching and slapping at the body with the other, making Allessandra cry out in pain now as well. This was now simply a fight at close quarters, no space to escape or defend; Allessandra started to take the only option open to her and shot back with her own scratches and slaps. The Italian tried to lean in and bite again, this time getting stopped by Emma’s hand in her face, but in turn, that allowed her free shots at Emma’s body and breasts to set the pain burning there again. Just at the point it seemed Emma had been fought to a standstill and Allessandra had the total control of proceedings again, Emma grabbed both of her legs, upending her Italian opponent on to her back in the grass.

The pressure was straight on to her too, as Emma held both ankles, holding her legs in the air as she spread them just enough to make sure Allessandra was feeling it in the inside of her thighs. The Italian looked to have her hands ready to try and defend her stomach from a stomp, but Emma sent two kicks round into her body instead to keep her off guard. Then she dropped to her own knees, hastily delivering a headbutt to the body, she hoped before Allessandra had any time to brace herself for it. Indeed, there was a satisfying groan as her forehead landed, but once again, Emma was taken aback by the resilience of her opponent, finding herself trapped between powerful thighs again. She was able to get clear of a hair grab from Allessandra, who was on her back and breathing hard enough. Emma was breathing just as hard though, and she was suffering a murderous scissor hold again as well, stopping her from fully replenishing her supplies of air.

With Allessandra flat on her back, Emma couldn’t reach her face with any reliable force or accuracy, but she could reach a set of well tanned D cup breasts to sink her talons into, bringing a shriek of anguish to Allessandra’s lips. Now, maybe for the first time, Emma really had the Italian woman hurting; her face betrayed that to be the case as Emma pulled, twisted and mauled her breasts. Emma’s face betrayed her own pain too, even as she implored Allessandra to ‘submit, or I’ll rip your fucking tits off!’

‘NO!’ Allessandra stated, only a hint of the pain that she felt evident in her voice as her legs continued to saw into Emma’s body. ‘Nnnngghhhh!’ Emma groaned loudly as Allessandra loosened her hold for a moment then clamped her thighs tight again. ‘Now you submit!’ she demanded of Emma, getting the same response that Emma had gleaned from her seconds before, with a simple ‘NO!’

Allessandra grimaced again, feeling Emma’s fingers and her sharp nails punishing her breasts, but then she remembered that she had Emma well softened up with her breast attacks too. She couldn’t reach them with her hands, but breaking her scissor hold rapidly, she send a sharp kick into Emma’s breasts now, knocking her to her back in the grass, clutching her chest. Both woman needed a moment to gather themselves now, and it was the Italian who was back to her feet slightly the quicker. That allowed her to intercept Emma’s attempt to get back up with a kick to the body, which rolled Emma to her back in the grass again. Now it was time, the Italian thought, to strike a decisive blow that might help her to win the fight, and she ripped Emma to her back by the hair before dropping shin first across her big breasts, flattening them to her chest and drawing a cry of pain from Emma. Her plan was to shift position so that she might slip that shin across Emma’s throat, grab her hair, and maybe just choke her into submission that way. A good plan, but one thwarted by Emma anchoring her shin in place, nails sunk in to her calf, tearing the shimmering fabric of her nude stockings. At the same time, Emma went digging, free hand inside that azure blue thong to apply a crotch claw on Allessandra, bringing a sharp cry of surprised pain from the Italian challenger.

It may have surprised Allessandra, but it wasn’t a move applied from a real position of strength by Emma. Now it was she who was subdued again as Allessandra, shin still firmly across Emma’s breasts, hammered two punches in to her body and then slapped her face hard. That was a stinging rebuke to a fighter just starting to tire a little, and it broke Emma’s grip of Allessandra’s calf for long enough for the Italian to find her way free. A kick lashed across Emma’s bare breasts now, keeping the pain burning strongly there as it landed harshly. Emma tried to roll away, desperate to find space as the brown haired challenger found momentum, but she couldn’t do it, finding herself controlled by the hair, forced to her knees before her head was set swimming by another elbow smash around the back of it. Allessandra was a catfighter, but she had no problem using a few more hard-hitting tactics if it helped her to keep an opponent subdued. That described Emma quite well right now, as she struggled slowly to all fours under her own steam, only to be flattened again with a second elbow around the head. Those blows were really starting to take their toll, as was Allessandra’s tit work that continued now as she slowly eased an evidently dazed Emma to her knees and latched on with sharp nails, stretching, pulling and scratching away. Emma moaned in pain, her eyes shut almost as she threw her head back in anguish; she was in the deepest of trouble, but she knew she had to fight if she wanted to hold on to her title.

A right hand, then a left hand seemed to almost bounce off Allessandra’s body, noted perhaps by the Italian, but not seeming to have any real impact on her. A slash across her belly with the nails did though, at least enough to capture Allessandra’s attention to deliver a hard knee strike to the breasts. That put Emma flat on her back, groaning loudly in pain as she tried to catch her breath and pull herself back together now. The problem was that she found herself up against a woman with no intention of letting her do that as a cruel stomp to the belly showed well, making sure more of the remaining air was expelled from her body. Allessandra went straight to Emma’s auburn hair now, forcing her slowly and painfully to her feet. A knee lift followed into the body, doubling Emma up for a moment before she was lifted and harshly body slammed at the centre of the grass circle once more. Emma writhed, rolling into a foetal position on the ground for the briefest moment, trying desperately to refill her lungs before Allessandra ripped her to her back and dropped a thick thigh high across her chest and throat.

Almost game over it appeared, and then the Italian woman applied one of her favoured finishing moves. She shifted her position quickly, using Emma’s auburn hair to steer the back of her head into her crotch, before she crossed her powerful legs into a figure four head scissors, pulling on her her own foot to tighten the hold immediately. It may have been a scissor hold, but Emma recognised it for what it was straight away, because Allessandra’s legs were every bit as effective in applying a choking sleeper hold as her arms would have been. Seated behind Emma, she had a calf across her throat which her crotch forced Emma’s head forward. There was nowhere for Emma to go as she pulled, pushed and then clawed at the strong legs which had her trapped and showed no sign of loosening at all. She tried again, the first hints of desperation in a slightly rasped moan of pain before Allessandra whipped in three heavy slaps to the face to subdue her again.

‘Bitch’ Emma complained, her voice strained in the tightening grip of Allessandra’s legs which the tried desperately to force apart again. Once more the flurry of slaps came in to subdue her attempt though before Allessandra used her hands planted in the grass to raise her hips and choke Emma that bit more.

‘You submit?’ she asked now, convinced she had things going her way now, as Emma scrabbled at her legs with her hands to no avail, face turning redder in that choking scissors by the moment.

‘No’ she rasped weakly in reply, holding on desperately to the hope that she might somehow escape. It would surely take a mistake from Allessandra though, and this military trained woman was not one who often made an unforced error. Here was no exception to that rule. ‘OK…..no submit?’ she half asked, half stated, then she cruelly raked Emma’s eyes to make her shriek in anguish, and kept that cry of pain going as she sunk nails into Emma’s battered right breast again. Everything that was happening now was just pushing Emma towards defeat I was sure. The cries of pain were emptying her lungs quicker that Allessandra’s powerful legs were allowing them to refill, the pain in her breast was flooding her mind with thoughts of submission. Perhaps most importantly of all though, the powerful figure four, forcing the darkness to just impinge at the edges of her vision from time to time before the sharp breast pain would clear it momentarily once more.

She tried again, the most futile of attempts to force Allessandra’s legs to part as the shimmering nylon encased limbs framed her agony perfectly. Her desperation too; that was there in her eyes as they tried to blink away the effects of Allessandra’s eye rake. ‘No submit?’ the Italian asked again, ripping into Emma’s breast with abandon and squeezing hard with her thighs once again. There as another pull at Allessandra’s legs by Emma, stopped by the stern rebuke of a hard slap to her nose and mouth. Then, finally, there was the end of the fight. ‘I submit’ Emma rasped, quietly but clearly, to admit that Allessandra was the winner and a worthy new champion.

The scissor hold was broken straight away, and Allessandra got to her feet quickly to accept the acclaim of the crowd as she stood over a prone Emma who lay on her back in the grass, trying to recover. The crowd sheeted for their countrywoman, delighted that she had done what it took to clinch the win and become the new world champion as the referee walked to the podium to collect the champion’s crown. It may have entered the arena on top of Emma’s auburn locks, but it would be leave here adorning the brown mane of the new queen of world catfighting, Allessandra Conti. A fact that wasn’t lost on Emma as she finally struggled back to her feet as the referee walked towards Allessandra.

‘Wait….’ she said to the surprised referee. ‘Let me’ she said, holding out her hand for the crown one last time. She held it for the briefest moment, while Allessandra looked at her with the slightest look of wariness on her face, wondering just what Emma had in mind exactly as she moved behind her. Then Emma carefully placed the crown on her head, told her quietly ‘congratulations...now look after it!’ and raised her arm in victory, wincing a little in pain before she left the arena to allow Allessandra to soak in the adulation of the crowd.

What was going to be next for Emma? Well, she was clearly in some pain so it was likely she was going to need a little bit of time before another fight, but then, would it be a match with the Smythe Interim Champion Betty that would be next in line. That was certainly the plan, but in the world of catfighting, plans often didn’t count for that much.