The Board Room Club

By Fanman

It was elegant, sophisticated and very exclusive. As a matter of fact, it was the most exclusive “club” in the city. Getting in required knowing a member and becoming a member was not just a matter of whom you were, or what you knew, but what you knew about whom.

The men and women who were members were not famous or well known. They were not rock stars or actors or politicians. They were members of the financial and industrial elite. They controlled the money and the industrial might of the most powerful country on the face of the earth. They were for the most part, uhm, past their prime, shall we say, but powerful, vain, strong willed, etc. They were powerful and they knew it. They came to the club to relax, to unwind, to see and to be seen. Basically, they came to enjoy. That meant companionship. That meant women.

Women! Oh, the women. They, also, were elegant and sophisticated, as well as cool and controlled. Physically they were…well…perfection. Sexy, sensual, exotic and erotic. They were all sizes and shapes. All were fit, toned and possessed of a feline grace common to dancers. Most were busty, but not all, and those that were busty were not grotesque. All were exquisitely dressed, coiffured, manicured and made up. All were intelligent, witty and charming. And above all they were Ladies.

These women were very special. The were not prostitutes, but sex was not out of the question. They were not waitresses, but all a member had to do was ask. Courtesan was a good word, but that had take on a negative meaning in the last century or so, and companion was not enough. Their job was simply to make the members comfortable and happy. If that meant simply being at a mans elbow for the evening, so be it. If that meant spending the night with him, or her, so be it. They were very good at what they did and were very, very well paid for it.

The queen was Tara. She was exquisite. There was no other word for her. She was a goddess, waiting to give a man all the pleasure the world had to offer. Her lips, her hair, those eyes, oh lord. A man could get lost in those eyes. And her body! She stood 5’8” of 40DD-25-36 majesty. She could make powerful men beg and woman cry with jealousy. Her hair was deep, dark black and her skin was pale, milky, almost translucent. She was a strong woman, toned but not masculine. She was rounded and soft, and sent chills up your spine just watching her walk across the room. As I said exquisite.

But she had a challenger. Rae. The members called her SunRay, because where Tara was reserved, dark and brooding, Rae was affable, extroverted, expressive and fun. Rae was blond, tanned, athletic and very, very toned.. She was 5’7” and 38D-24-36. She maintained the level of sophistication required for the atmosphere of the club, yet tempered it with humor and style.

When Rae first came to the club she drew attention simply because her manner was so different from the East Coast, urban, almost European sophistication of the other women. Rae’s style was a relaxed, West Coast, version. As time went on, she altered her style to fit in but kept her individuality. The members appreciated it. More and more, she was sought out, requested. When no one of particular importance was in the club, she might have a whole group of men around her. Usually she ended the evening with some person of importance.

But, Tara and Rae had never hit it off. Rae considered the other woman stuffy, overbearing and cold. Tara considered Rae flighty, unsophisticated and lacking in respect. As Rae became more popular, Tara became more indignant. She considered the woman an affront to the style of the club. She made it known that she felt that Rae should be fired. Actually, Tara felt Rae should never have been hired. The tension between the two woman grew. It got to the point where the members of the club noticed. This was not done. All the ladies knew, you never did anything that might annoy or distract the members. Tara and Rae would not speak to each other, and whenever possible distanced themselves from the other. Most of the members were amused by the obvious dislike the women felt for each other, to the rest it was a non-issue. The women began sending contemptuous glances at each other. The tension grew.

Finally it happened, as was inevitable. Rae was in the right place at the right time and ended up escorting one of Tara’s best, most powerful clients around the club. Tara was livid. She of course hid it well, but under the cool façade she was a seething cauldron of rage and anger. During the evening, the two were thrown together by accident. Rae made some remark to Tara that most of the group found funny, but could have been interpreted as mildly discourteous, not insulting, just discourteous. Tara snapped. Her response was scathing and highly insulting. Rae gasped. Most of the men looked uncomfortable, glancing away from the two women. Tara immediately blushed, stammered some excuse and fled to the ladies room. In this company, what she had done was the equivalent of pulling out a gun and shooting someone in a neighborhood bar. Tara got herself under control and went back out to mingle, making sure she stayed away from Rae. Before the end of the evening, both were summoned. Mr. Charles wanted to see both of them, together, tonight.

Mr. Charles was the manager. He was a story in his own right. He looked like the perfect manager for a club of this style and sophistication. His cultured accent seemed just right and his clothes and manners were always impeccable. The members would have been amazed to find out that before he undertook the management of this club, he was known as Charlie the Tuna, because when he took care of a guy, the guy slept with the fishes.

Tara and Rae stood before Mr. Charles. Still dressed to the nines, they were an amazing site before him. He had a policy of hands off the girls and a good thing it was too. Just looking at either of these two would turn a gay man straight.

“Ladies, ladies, ladies….what am I going to do with you? We’ve talked about this before and it has only gotten worse. There is nothing for it. One of you must go. Now which is it to be?”

Instantly, both woman knew they were both on trial. Anything that made them look less a lady, less sophisticated or cultured, would be enough. This was a sudden death playoff and the first one to make a serious mistake was history.

Unconsciously, each woman had struck a pose, such as she might have done in the club.

“Damn” thought Charlie the Tuna “these two are the best I have, why the fuck couldn’t they get along. Look at them. Those bodies, those faces, attitude, charm, wit, everything we want in a hostess.”

“Very well ladies, from club management’s point of view, one of you has to go to maintain civility, but which is immaterial. So you will decide. Those dresses you are wearing are the property of the club and very expensive. Please remove them.”

The women had been watching Mr. Charles. Now they glanced at each other with hate and loathing, then turned to opposite sides of the room, removed their dresses and came back to the center. Again each unconsciously, struck a pose, totally unconcerned that they were now clothed in only elbow length gloves, bikini panties, garter belt, hose and heels. There was no modesty. Both were far too proud of their bodies to hide them in any way. Tara’s breasts were large and pendulous. Her aureole were three inches across and her nipples both long and fat. Rae’s breasts were not as large, but not pendulous at all. She passed the Cooper pencil test with ease and Mr. Charles suspected artificial augmentation, but saw no sign of surgery. She could very well be natural, but very few woman had breasts that large, that firm, and that high with out help. Rae’s aureole were small compared to Tara and the nipples almost lost on such a huge expanse of breast flesh. Waists were small, bellies flat and hips flaring and shapely. All in all, a magnificent site.

“Very well ladies. You will decide this between you. The better woman will stay, the other must leave. You will continue till one of you yields. Only this may end the contest. Please begin.”

Both women remained reserved as they turned toward one another. This was unexpected, but both endeavored to maintain her poise. Neither had ever been in a fight more serious than a few slaps and some hair pulling in her life. Yet both knew that this conflict would not end with something as mild as that. This was a serious contest against a woman who hated her, for a position they both enjoyed and wished to retain.

They approached. With no hesitation, Tara swung quickly and slapped Rae, connecting low on her left cheek. Rae gasped, her head snapped to the side and she stumbled. Hand on cheek, she hesitated then responded in kind and Tara stumbled to the side. They glared at one another then Tara struck again. Tears appeared in Rae’s eyes and her lower lip trembled. These woman were unused to violence and pain, dealing with it would be a major part of the battle. This would be a conflict of wills as much as a conflict of bodies.

For a brief moment Tara had hopes that Rae would break and run. But no, Rae’s face hardened and anger filled it as she again returned the blow. Twice more they exchanged slaps then Tara stepped back. Hand to cheek, face red, they stared at one another with loathing and hate. Tara whipped her hands up and lunged. Rae barely got her arms up in time and the two locked hands. They staggered around the room, hands sawing the air, struggling for control. They winced as their breasts slapped together, but continued to struggle. Tara pulled the other woman down at the waist, twisted and threw her across the room. Rae stayed on her feet but barely. Tara followed her, and as Rae steadied herself and straightened up Tara grabbed her hair from behind and began pulling her head back and forth, side to side, ripping and tearing at Rae’s scalp. Tara pulled her around the room by the hair, and slammed her, face first, into Mr. Charles’s desk. Rae screamed as she bent over the desk, breasts slapping down onto the desk top, then screamed again as Tara pulled her back up and threw her to the floor. Rae hit hard on her derriere and bounced, ending up on her back, feet facing Tara. Tara came right at her, and more by good luck than good sense, Rae kicked into Tara’s lower abdomen. Tara “whooshed”, stopped dead in her tracks and staggered, bent over. Rae kicked with both feet and caught Tara in the breasts. With a wail, Tara was propelled across the room and slammed into the floor.

For a couple of seconds both women remained on the floor, then staring at each other, they slowly rose to their feet and began circling. Still a little uncertain, they again came together, filling their hands with hair and dragging each other around the room. Grunts and yelps filled the air as black and blond hair hit the floor. They pressed closely together and breasts flattened. Tara’s larger nipples and breasts gave her an advantage here and she used it. Her nipples had engorged and hardened as the fight had progressed and now she jabbed and poked them into Rae’s firmer set. At first it was merely irritating to Rae. But after a minute or more, not only was Rae’s scalp a mass of pain (as she was sure Tara’s was) but her breasts were radiating pain into her chest. Rae kept trying to back away, to lessen the pain in her mammeries, but Tara either followed her closely or pulled her back in tight. Tara sensed she had an advantage and sought to increase it. She hooked her leg behind Rae’s and scraped her 4” heel down Rae’s calf. Rae squealed and tried to pull away again, but Tara’s hold on her hair still held her close. Again Tara dug her heel into Rae’s calf. She wasn’t breaking the skin, but it was causing an abrasion. And pain. Rae began limping. Tears were running down her cheeks and she kept trying to break away from Tara. By this point Rae had released Tara's hair and her hands were on Tara’s shoulders, pushing her away. Her hand slipped and jabbed into Tara’s throat, causing her to wince and twist away.

Now, nobody ever said Rae was stupid or slow on the uptake. She got the hint. She clamped both hands around Tara’s throat and squeezed. Tara’s breath immediately cut off and she panicked. She released Rae’s hair, grabbed the wrists around her throat and began twisting and pulling, to get out of Rae’s grasp. Rae held on and twisted herself. The two struggled across the room, Tara bent back, Rae’s arms straight out and hands clamped around Tara’s throat. Tara was in a complete frenzy, pulling on Rae’s wrists, pushing on her shoulders and chest, anything to get away. When she pushed on Rae’s breasts, she got a definite response. Like Rae she was neither stupid nor slow. She slammed the heel of her hand up into the bottom of Rae’s breast. First, the left, then the right, then the left again. Rae wailed and on the third blow the two staggered apart.

“BITCH!!!” The first words in the fight. Rae screamed it out and lunged back at Tara who was bent over, holding her throat. Rae dragged Tara by the hair to Mr. Charles’s desk and slammed her forehead and face into the desktop, twice, three times. Tara fell to her knees wailing, holding her face. Rae kicked into her belly with the toe of her high heels. On the third kick Tara fell back, clutching her stomach. Rae kept up the kicks, aiming now for Tara’s breasts.

“Want to play with breasts you frigid bitch. Fine, we’ll play with breasts!”

Three times Rae’s toe connected with Tara’s breast as she rolled on the floor trying to avoid the kicks coming in. Rae kicked again, Tara grabbed Rae’s foot and pushed her off balance. As Rae staggered back, Tara made it to her feet. Again the two slammed together, slapping faces, pulling hair, punching breasts and stomachs. Around and around the room they went, pounding and punching, slapping and pulling. Blood began dripping from Rae’s nose and a small cut opened under one eye from the power of Tara’s slaps.

Rae began to slow, her mind reeling from the beating she was enduring and Tara sensed it. Tara slammed two unanswered punches, deep into the pit of Rae’s stomach, doubling her over. She backed up a step, and sent the toe of her shoe deep into Rae’s left globe, hitting it right on the nipple. Rae screeched, grabbed her breast and dropped to the floor wailing. Tara walked over and pulled the crying woman to her knees by her hair. As she pulled Rae’s head around, Rae hit Tara with her doubled fists, directly on her mound. The blow started somewhere around the floor and took Tara completely off her feet. She landed on her back, holding her crotch, wailing and crying out her own pain, rolling from side to side. Rae loomed over Tara on her knees and rained down punches and slaps. She put her hands together and pounded on the other woman’s breasts. She grabbed one breast in both hands and squeezed. She pounded her way down Tara’s body, stopping at the stomach for a couple of two handed blows, before making her way down to Tara’s crotch. The raven haired ex-queen of the club was laid out on her back, her body twitching or convulsing every time she received a blow. Rae straddled one of Tara’s thighs and pushed her legs apart. She ripped away Tara’s panties and punched straight into the unprotected vulva presented to her. Five times she punched into Tara’s mound. Tara was conscious, her head was flopping back and forth, but that was the only indication. That and the tears running down her cheeks and the low sobbing. Rae moved back up Tara’s body and pulled her head up by the hair.

“Ready to quit yet.”

Tearfully and painfully Tara said “No…never.”

“Oh, never is a long time dear.”

Rae pulled a sobbing Tara to her feet by her hair and slapped her hard, sending her crashing back into the wall. As Tara bounced from the wall, Rae slapped her face again. Tara spun away and collided with a chair. She grabbed the furniture to steady herself and quickly scuttled around behind it. Rae came at her from the other side, and Tara moved to keep the chair between them. Every time Rae moved one way to get at her, Tara moved the other way to keep the chair between them. Rae got tired of this game quickly and tried to go over the chair. Tara hit her as she came over, dumping her on the floor, then fled to the other side of the room, to hide behind a sofa. Rae came up fast and went right after the fleeing woman. She had Tara on the run now and wanted to keep her on the defensive.

Dodging left and right, the two went back to "keep the furniture between us" for a couple of minutes. Finally, Rae faked strongly to the left and went to the right. It looked like Tara had been fooled and ran right into the other vixen. But the way she attacked Rae, when they finally came together, suggested she had been playing for time to get herself together.

Each grabbed hair with one hand and slapped with the other. Again Tara seemed the stronger and the slapping exchange went in her favor. More blood flowed from Rae's nose. Her lower lip split and she had a real shiner starting on her left eye. Rae's blows were getting weaker, barely turning Tara's head. Tara punched into Rae's belly and the woman grunted and backed away. Tara hit her again in the breast and Rae back pedaled even more. More slaps to the face, including a right forehand, backhand and then left forehand combination finally put Rae against a wall. Tara latched her hands onto Rae's bust. She squeezed and pushed, crushing the other woman's fleshy globes and pinning her to the wall.

Rae had been grunting with the blows and sobbing from the pain, but when Tara's knee flashed up and crashed into her crotch she let out a full lunged scream. The noise level was lower for the second knee and by the third she merely wailed. Rae's arms hung limply at her side and her knees were like jelly as Tara sent knee blow after knee blow into Rae's sex organ and lower belly. The only thing holding Rae up was Tara's grip on her perfect bosom.

Tara pulled the defenseless woman way from the wall and let her collapse to her knees. To add insult to injury, Tara opened the other woman's legs with her foot and kicked the toe of her shoe into the V formed by Rae's perfect thighs. Three times she kicked into Rae, punishing the woman's genitalia. Tara stood for a moment, catching her breath, with Rae before her sitting back on her heels on the floor. Suddenly Tara dropped straight down, her knees driving into Rae's thighs, her whole weight crushing Rae's legs. Tara wedged her knees between Rae's legs, and opened the V even more. She ripped away Rae's panties, then grabbed Rae's vulva and squeezed. Rae's whole body shuddered and spasmed, arms flopping around and head lolling from side to side, as Tara squeezed her hand till it trembled. Rae moaned and wailed as pain shoots up her love canal and spiked into her stomach.

"You're not in good shape here, dear. Would you like to give up now?' Tara's voice is cool and reserved, as if she were at the bar ordering a cocktail.

"N...n…no, n..n..never!" stammered Rae.

"Oh, my dear, as you said, never is such a long time!"

The two woman are now kneeling, face to face. Tara took Rae's hands and places them on Tara's breasts.

"Let's end this with a squeeze off, shall we. Anytime you're ready, you may begin!"

Tara placed her own hands on Rae's breasts but doesn't add any pressure. Rae closed her hands, squeezing with what ever she has left and Tara grunted. Tara began her squeeze and the two face each other, eyes locked together for perhaps ten seconds, till Rae's wails split the air. She released Tara's globes and pulled at her wrists. Tara continued to crush Rae's breasts till Rae's arms dropped to her side and she began to lean back onto her heels. Tara held her up by her breasts, twisting and squeezing, mauling the other woman mercilessly. Finally, Tara released Rae, who fell back onto her heels, legs doubled under her and arms splayed out.

"Again, dear, would you like to give up?"

When Rae didn't respond, Tara punched into her vagina, causing her body to bounce on the floor. Tara leaned forward to pull Rae's head up by the hair. Tara looked into the beaten woman's eyes to make sure she is conscious and asked again.

"Last chance. Want to yield?" When she receives no response, Tara lets Rae's head flop back to the floor, leaned back and slowly began to remove her gloves.

"I had hoped this wouldn't be necessary. But as you are, shall we say, reluctant to concede my superiority as a woman, I will have to convince you."

Rae looked up in time to see the second glove come off and eyed the wicked nails painted blood red on Tara's fingers. Horror came to Rae's eyes as she watched those nails descend to her groin. Suddenly she felt the pain as Tara dug her nails into the inside of Rae's thighs and scratched from the bottom up. Rae couldn't see, but she knew she now had long bloody gouges in her legs. She knew more were coming and began to whimper. She couldn't give up, she just couldn't. She felt Tara moving between her legs and looked down. Tara had removed one of Rae's own 4" spiked heels and had placed it at the opening of her vagina. Seeing her victim watching, Tara smiled at her and jammed the heel up as far as possible into Rae's vulva. Rae tried to send her hands to her abused sex organ, but Tara slapped them away contemptuously as she twisted the heel further in.

Now Tara began moving up Rae's body, nails leaving welts and half-mood punctures in her lower belly and stomach. Rae knew what was coming and watched as Tara's red tipped talons closed around Rae's once perfect breasts. Slowly, Tara closed her hand, fingers clawed, nails slowly sinking into breast flesh, breaking through the skin, blood seeping out. Rae cried and sobbed, watching the destruction of her magnificent bosom. Tara pulled her fingers together, gouging toward there ultimate goal. When five fingers on each side pressed five nails into Rae's aureole and began pushing in, Rae could stand no more. She knew that if she didn't give right now, Tara would dig those nails in till she ripped away Rae's nipples. Rae could see the blood seeping down her chest already, and could imagine the red, bloody wounds she would have on her magnificent breasts when her nipples were gone.

"Stop…oh god please stop…I quit…I give…please stop, don't, please, please, please!"

"You admit I am the superior woman!'

Rae hesitated for just a second till Tara began to again dig into her nipples, then screamed "YES, Yes, yes…I admit you are the superior woman."

Tara rose with as much poise and dignity as the situation allowed. She posed over Rae and looked at Mr. Charles. She was once and again queen of the club.