“You're going to what? ”

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Camille just repeated herself, her face a bit amused.

“It's like a club,” she said. “A fight club. But we fight for men, not money. Each girl brings a guy – like collateral – and the winner gets the loser's guy for the night.”

“And you want me –“

She put her arms around my neck. I felt her breasts push into my chest. “It has to be someone we like,” she said. “It's an honor system. We have to put up a guy that other women would want, but that we don't want to lose.”

“Flattering,” I said. “Except for the part where you sleep with the other guy if you win.”

“I wouldn't,” she said. “That's not why I do it.” Something in her eyes left a hint of doubt.

“So why do you do it?”

She turned partially away. “I can't really explain it,” she said. “It's . . . basic. Stripped-down uncivilized. Dangerous. It just gives me a thrill.”

I had to ask. “Have you ever lost?”

She smiled. “Not yet.”

Camille was fantistically beautiful, a leggy, buxom brunette, with a body that was a wonderland. I finally agreed. Strange as it was, there was no way I could have said no.

She took me a week later, on a Friday night. She was quiet, vibrating with nervous energy, during the drive. “Here,” she finally said.

The building was an old warehouse of some type, brick and airless, the kind now generally made into offices or condos. Without airconditioning and with windows covered with plywood, tonight it was a sweatbox.

I was surprised at the number of couples there, probably twenty or twenty-five. And the women were all nearly as hot as Camille. Unbelievable, I thought, for maybe the millionth time.

In the center of the room was a boxing ring, set maybe three feet higher than the floor. Wooden risers were set around it to elevate the spectators above the ring floor, maybe five feet away. The space in between was like a moat, with a concrete bottom.

I was staring at this set-up, when I felt Cami's hand on my elbow. “There she is,” she breathed.

“Who?”

“The bitch I'm going to challenge tonight,”

She inclined her chin slightly as a way of pointing. I looked. Staring back at us was a beautiful blonde. She was as tall as Camille, more or less the same weight, and built just as hard and full. Her eyes were icy blue.

Cami led me back to the crowd. The other woman's name was Nicole, she said, and she was an insufferable, arrogant cunt. Cami had wanted a match with her from the beginning, but she had had to prove herself first. Tonight was the night. “Tonight I've got a prize she'll want,” Camille said, kissing me on the cheek. It occurred to me that the opposite – that Nicole had a man that Cami wanted – might also be true, but I kept silent.

A tall, dark-haired woman was calling for quiet. “Time to begin,” she said. “The floor is open for challenges.”

Camille had her hand up in a flash, and the dark-haired woman recognized her. “I challenge Nicole,” she said, her voice clear and strong. “Submission match rules.”

A buzz went through the group. I noticed several women shaking their heads, in either dismay or admiration. Nicole looked contemptuous and amused at the same time. “I accept,” she called out. “On the condition that the prizes act as seconds and the referee is waived.”

The buzz increased. “Done,” Cami shouted. She gave me another kiss – deep and on the mouth this time – and left. Nicole went the other way. I moved to the dark-haired woman.

“What was that?” I asked her.

“You're her prize, you are in her corner as her second,” she said. “Referee waived, I expect you understand.”

“What are submission match rules?”

She looked at me. “Two minutes rounds, one minute breaks, as usual. The submission part is unlimited rounds, and no knockouts. If one woman is knocked down, she gets a ten count, after which the other is free to go after her, whether or not she's up. If she's knocked out, we'll revive her. The fight only ends when she submits.”

My stomach rolled a little. “That's brutal.”

She shrugged. “Camille asked for it.”

I was just getting my mind around this when Camille and Nicole re-entered the room, now dressed in robes. Their fists had been wrapped, taped to turn them into hard projectiles. There were no boxing gloves.

I met Cami at the ring, climbing up to her corner with her. There was a small stool, a large water bottle, and some towels and ice. “Do you know what you're doing?” I asked her. “Because I don't.”

She basically ignored me. She had her game face on now. I looked across the ring at Nicole. She was watching us, a predatory look on her face. Her second was up on the ring apron too. He was, even I had to admit, a fantastically attractive man. I looked back to Cami, and got yet another shock.

She had slipped off her robe. She was wearing only black leather boxing shoes and a black bikini bottom. Her breasts were bare, bobbing slightly as she moved, her nipples hard. I glanced back at Nicole. She wore white, but as little as Camille did. No gloves, no referee, no tops.

Before I could say anything, the dark-haired woman rang the round bell loudly. Camille and Nicole immediately swung into the ring. I retrieved Cami's stool, and watched.

Round One.

They circled at first, fists up in a boxing stance. Nicole was talking. I realized that neither woman wore a mouth guard. Over the shouting crowd, I could only make out Nicole's words when she was directly facing me. That was enough to tell that she was describing, in ugly detail, the injuries she was going to inflict. Camille's face was impassive with intense concentration.

Camille threw the first punch, a flicking jab that Nicole had only to move her head an inch to avoid. Lightning-quick, the blonde counter-punched. Cami took most of it on her forearm. She danced quickly a half-step to her left and jabbed again. This one got through. Nicole's head went back. She gave a step. I could see her face redden. Cami followed, jabbing and landing again. Nicole was backpedalling now, and Camille was chasing her, faster.

“Get her, Cami!” I shouted. It was barely out of my mouth when I saw how Nicole was decoying her. In a flash, she clinched as Cami was moving forward, and swung around. Cami was trapped in a corner.

Nicole's fists were unbelievably quick. Looking down the ropes, I could see them landing on Cami's arms and shoulders, then knifing through into her ribs and stomach. Fifteen feet away, the sound of the impacts were sharp barks. Cami clinched, trying to push her way free.

I could see the muscles in Nicole's legs bunch up as she pushed back. She kept Camille pinned in the corner. Her right shoulder dipped, and she drove a low uppercut into Cami's belly button.

Cami groaned, a soft unnhh sound. She clinched again, trying to tie up Nicole's arm. The blonde simply powered through her. Another uppercut ripped into Camille's midsection.

Cami had terrific abs. I had traced my fingers admiringly over them more than once as we lay naked in bed. But no one could take a hard-taped fist like that without effect. I could see her face over Nicole's shoulder, and it was white with pain.

Finally, she had Nicole's arms wrapped up, but it looked like her legs were wobbly. She nearly stumbled as Nicole abruptly moved back, pulling her forward out of the corner. Nicole's right fist whipped around in a savage hook. I didn't have time to shout a warning.

But Cami didn't need it. She ducked inside the arc of Nicole's fist and her forearm smashed into the blonde's mouth. Nicole's head snapped back, and there was no decoy about it this time. Camille planted her feet and, balanced perfectly, snapped a left across Nicole's face. Something flew across the distance that separated them from me, landing at my feet. I stared down at a dime-sized spot of red. First blood to Cami.

Nicole staggered back. She touched her mouth, her fingers coming away bloody. Cami just waited for her, fists up and ready. The bell rang as they stared at each other. They held it for a few tense seconds, then turned to their corners. I breathed a little sigh of relief. There was still some control, some civilization, to the situation.

Fumbling, I put out the stool for Camille, but she ignored it and stayed on her feet. “Water,” she said, leaning on the ropes. I gave her the bottle. She drank some and poured some over her face. I watched, fascinated, as it streamed down her throat and over her bare breasts.

“You OK?” I asked, lightly towelling the sweat away from her face. She didn't answer.

“Your stomach, where she hit you – “ I started again.

“Hurts like hell,” she interrupted angrily. “But I don't want to waste my breath talking about it and I won't give her the satisfaction of seeing me double over. If you want to help me here, stop being the solicitous boyfriend.”

I shut my mouth and concentrated on toweling her. The minute-long break was over already.

Round Two.

As fast as the break had gone, round two seemed to last an eternity. Nicole pretty much had her way with Cami. As the round neared its end, she knocked her down for the first time with a vicious hook into her body. Cami went down to her knees, rocking forward clutching her ribs where Nicole had hammered her, her face pressed against the canvas. Smirking, Nicole moved to a neutral corner as the dark-haired woman started a loud ten-count from outside the ring.

And the painful body blow had only been the last in a series of savage punches, most of which had landed on Cami's face. As she rocked, grimacing in pain, blood from her lips smeared across the canvas. Her eyes were closed as she fought for breath, but she couldn't open her left one more than a swollen slit even if she had wanted.

Still, at the count of five, Camille dug the heels of her hands into the ring floor and pushed herself up. She was breathing shallowly, in quick hitches, but her legs were steady.

Mercifully, the bell rang before Nicole could come after her. Cami moved slowly towards me, a little bent to favor her sore side. This time she welcomed the stool. Across the way, I noticed that Nicole stayed on her feet. Cami held a towel to her mouth to staunch her bleeding lip while I iced her swelling eye. She was still working on getting her breathing back to normal. Her gaze was locked on Nicole. The minute ticked by quickly. Cami rinsed her mouth, spit out a red-tinged mouthful, and stood up.

Round Three.

My hopes rose a little through round three. Camille was keeping some space between her and Nicole, not running but not inviting a toe-to-toe exchange either. Nicole seemed inclined to keep her distance too, content to continue taunting Cami. I heard gutless, chickenshit bitch, coward. Cami didn't answer back. The crowd began to get a little restless.

Then, with frightening speed, Nicole dove in. The audience roared back to life, shouting encouragement. Camille blocked a punch, slipped another. But Nicole's third punch caught her flush in the mouth. Unlike the single spatter of blood she'd drawn from Nicole in the first round, Nicole's fist seemed to detonate into Camille, snapping her head violently sideways, a spray of blood bursting from her lips. She wobbled badly, defenseless for a moment.

Nicole hit her again. Sick with concern for my brunette as I was, part of me had to admire the skill and power that Nicole threw into her blows. She was driving her fists right through Cami, it seemed. This one, into her belly, buckled her in half.

Cami lay on her side, coughing for air. Blood streamed from her mouth, pooling under her cheek. Implacably, the ten-count started outside the ring. Cami had only made it to her hands and knees by ten, however, and my heart was in my throat as Nicole started after her, eyes alight at the sight of helpless prey.

She was saved by the bell, which rang as soon as Nicole grabbed a handful of her hair. Frustrated, Nicole shoved her away, and stalked back to her own corner.

I climbed through the ropes and helped Camille to our corner. She slumped on the stool, her head thrown back, gasping for oxygen. I poured water over her face, wincing at the gash in her lower lip. It was obvious that she would need multiple stitches to close it.

“God, her fists are like rocks!” she whispered to me, still breathless. “It hurts. ”

“Give up,” I urged her. “You've had enough.”

At that her eyes snapped back. “Don't say that!” she nearly snarled. “I'll never quit!”

Round Four.

Nicole hopped out as soon as the bell rang. At least she sat down that time, I thought ruefully. She stopped at the center of the ring and just waited.

Camille answered the bell, but much more slowly. She moved to face Nicole as if her knees were filled with broken glass. I noticed that now she was holding her stomach.

Nicole held her position. I couldn't help but think how stunningly erotic she was. Her blonde hair was tied back from her face, which was just wicked enough to be achingly sexy. The trickle of blood on her lip seemed to highlight how relatively unmarked she was. Her body was fantastic, slender but hard and muscular. I realized I was staring at her sweat-streaked breasts. Ashamed, I dropped my head.

“Take a free shot,” Nicole said loudly. I looked up. She was, of course, talking to Camille who was now face to face with her. “Hit me, bitch,” the blonde said. “It's too boring, just knocking the shit out of you.” Theatrically, she held her hands to her side, palms open.

Cami unloaded with everything she had. I think it was more than Nicole expected. Cami's fist snapped her head around and sent her skidding to the canvas.

“Get her!” I shouted. But Cami held her spot.

Nicole climbed to her feet, cutting off the count as it began with a smoldering glance at the dark-haired woman. The contempt in her eyes had been replaced by pure venom. I could read her lips: “My turn,” she said to Cami.

“No!” I shouted, but Camille arms were relaxed at her sides.

Nicole went for her body again. I saw the muscles in her back and shoulder and arm cord as she drove her fist so deep into Cami's stomach that my girl was lifted off her feet. Cami landed on her hands and knees. I could hear her dry heaving.

The count started, for the third time in the fight for her. I never thought she'd make it up. Somehow, she did. “My turn,” she gasped.

Nicole waited for her. This is crazy, I thought. Don't trade punches. She's killing you.

Again, Cami hit her with all she had. The difference this time was she hit Nicole full in the throat.

For a second, Nicole seemed to hang there. Her eyes went wide, her mouth gaped open. Her hands came up to her throat. I realized then that no air was getting through. As far as the blonde was concerned, the entire warehouse had just become a vacuum chamber. She staggered, fell heavily to her knees, then to her side.

Cami found the ropes and leaned on them. She could barely stand herself. The count started on Nicole. By eight she had started breathing again, harsh, rasping coughs. But there was no way she was getting up by ten.

At ten, Cami started after her. But she staggered, and dropped momentarily to one knee, holding her stomach. I felt a stab of fear that maybe Nicole had hurt her inside, ruptured something. She pushed back up, her face twisted in pain. Nicole was on her hands and knees now, her breath still rattling.

Then Camille had her, pulling her up, pushing her against the ropes. Nicole was helpless, and Cami made her pay. If Cami had not been so badly hurt, had she had even half her normal strength, I'm sure she might have won the fight at that point. She battered Nicole's face, turning her nose and mouth into bloody meat, and opened a gash in her cheek. She pounded the blonde's beautiful body, twisting fists into her belly and ribs. But her own arms were exhausted – she had to take precious seconds between punches to gather her strength. When the bell rang, Nicole was hanging on the ropes, her bloodied face dazed, but still on her feet.

Camille moved unsteadily back to me. I watched Nicole, a moment later, shamble to her own corner, holding herself up by the ropes.

Cami drank greedily, almost desperately. She had evened the fight, maybe even gained an advantage. But that was like comparing prisoners of war. She was nearly dead on her feet. “Next round,” I said. “You've got to finish her. You can't take any more. Don't let her back up.”

Round Five.

I had underestimated Nicole. Cami hadn't gained an advantage. But they were more or less even again, and I had also underestimated the grit and stamina of both women. They answered the bell slowly but with determination. The fight was taking on a new tone. It was personal, now.

And that made it even more brutal. Nicole, her throat purpled and bruised, knocked Cami down twice, repeatedly pounding her body. Both times, Cami crawled the the ropes and pulled herself up barely by ten. Camille knocked Nicole down twice, too, once nearly sending her through the ropes with a savage shot in her face that whipped a line of blood out of the ring and into the first row of spectators. Both times, Nicole forced herself back up in time.

The round ended in a stalemate, the two exhausted women clinched in the center of the ring. It was a violently erotic picture: their battered faces cheek-to-cheek, their sweat-soaked breasts pressed together as their arms intertwined. They separated, almost reluctantly it seemed, at the bell.

There wasn't much I could do for Camille. The between-round time was turning into a routine: try to slow the bleeding from her gashed lip; ice on her face, especially her eye, to slow the swelling; water everywhere. I pulled her sweat-soaked hair back into a ponytail to keep it out of the way. There was nothing I could do for the rest of her. She had livid, fist-sized bruises all over her ribs and stomach. She still held a hand over the spot where Nicole had blasted her in the stomach at the beginning of round four.

Round Six.

The fight, brutal as it had been, had kept a veneer of civilization. There had been ten counts, neutral corners, and general adherence to boxing rules.

In round six, that all ended.

Halfway through, Nicole manuevered Camille into the ropes. Cami still had one arm low, to protect her injured stomach. She held the other in classic boxing position, guarding her chin. That gave the blonde the opening that she had been looking for.

Once again, her form was perfect. Even though her fist traveled no more that a few feet, her entire upper body turned with it, with tremendous force. Her hard-taped fist drove straight into Camille's left breast.

The fight had hardly been quiet to this point. The women had grunted, cursed, taunted, gasped with pain. But now Cami screamed, a chilling cry of sheer agony. She tried to push out, but Nicole simply grabbed her hair and flung her back into the ropes. Off-balance, she was open again. And Nicole hit her again. Cami had full, firm breasts, that sat high on her chest, easy targets. Nicole's fist seemed to crush her, flattening the tender tissue into her ribcage.

She screamed again. The pain had to have been paralyzing. And now Nicole had her arms, pushing them back and over the top ring rope as Cami sagged. She hung there on the ropes helpless, stunned. As tired as Nicole was, her early speed and confidence seemed to come surging back now. Her lips curled into a wolfish grin that the blood on her mouth and teeth made horrifying.

I guess that there was probably only about ten seconds left in the round. It seemed like forever. Nicole's fists flew hard and straight, left, right, left. Cami's body jerked as the punches pounded into her chest. She didn't scream any more, but only because she couldn't.

The bell finally rang. I realized I'd been holding my breath, waiting for it. But Nicole didn't stop. Left, right, twisting her fists as they landed. Cami was bleeding, the skin of her left nipple cut. Then Nicole pushed Cami's head back and paid her back for the throat punch, hitting her with a vicious backhand chop, the edge of her hand driving right into my girl's throat.

Then she turned away. Cami hung there, her face white and blank. Slowly, without Nicole to help prop her up, her weight pulled her loose and she toppled forward. She couldn't break her fall. She landed face down, her battered breasts taking most of the impact.

I scrambled into the ring. Cami was unconscious, but breathing. At lest Nicole's final chop hadn't crushed her windpipe. Gently, I turned her over, keeping her neck stable. My breath caught as I saw her breasts up close. The cut in her nipple was deep, weeping blood down the side of her breast and across her ribs. Already, bruises were coloring into angry purple blotches. Both nipples were swelling, the flesh puffy and sore.

The dark-haired woman knelt beside me, along with another woman. “Is this a doctor?” I said. “We need to get her to a doctor!”

“Yes, she's a doctor,” said the dark-haired woman. The doctor ignored me. She lifted Camille's eyelids, aimed a penlight. “Good pupil response,” she said. She checked her throat, gingerly palpating. “Soft tissue damage, larynx bruised but no fracture.” She straightened up. “Let's revive her.”

The rules that the dark-haired woman had announced to me came back. The fight wasn't over until Cami submitted. They were going to bring her to, and that was all.

Already, the doctor was breaking something under Cami's nostrils. The pungent, biting odor made her eyelids flutter. The dark-haired women poured ice water on a towel and gently patted her forehead and cheeks. Her eyes opened for real, for a scary second rolled high up in her head, but then sliding back to normal, even focused.

I felt a wave of relief, then guilt as the thought that I was Nicole's prize was next in my mind. “Cami?” I said. “It's over. Just say it's over.”

She stared up at me, then looked at the dark-haired woman and the doctor. Instinctively, her arms wrapped over her breasts, but the motion made her wince with pain. “How long?” she whispered, her voice a small rasp.

The doctor understood. “Maybe thirty seconds. Not long. No concussion.”

That scared me. “No, Cami, you're done!”

She looked back at me. “You want me to quit?” she rasped. “You want her to win?”

Did I? “I don't want you to be hurt any more,” I said. She just looked away.

The crowd roared approval as the dark-haired woman and the doctor helped Camille to her feet. Once up, she got two minutes in her corner. We didn't speak again. She drank carefully, small swallows that clearly hurt her throat. She took the icy-wet towel from me and laid it over her breasts. A small red spot soon soaked through where it covered her torn nipple.

I looked across at Nicole. She smiled back, her bloody face arrogant again. You're mine, she mouthed at me. God, she was hot. I looked at the stud in her corner. Was he what kept Cami fighting?

Round Seven.

Camille did better than I had dared hope. By that, I mean she survived. She protected her chest at all costs, and the cost was that Nicole could smash fist after fist into her face pretty much at will.

But Nicole was frustrated, because she only wanted instead to continue the tit torture she had started. She left herself open at times, and Cami even landed a few herself.

Cami came to the corner when it ended, forcing herself to walk in a more-or-less straight line. God, her beautiful face was wrecked. Her already gashed lip was cut nearly through now. Her swollen left eye streamed blood down the side of her face as the puffy skin had split open. Her nose was obviously broken, also streaming blood. She sat on her stool, head down.

I couldn't believe she had either the physical strength or the will to continue. “Why don't you give –“ I started.

Her head whipped up so violently that blood spattered on my shirt. “Shut up!” she screamed at me. “Stop saying that! I will never submit to that bitch!”

Her voice hurt to listen to. The crowd fell silent for a second, then wildly applauded her. She touched her injured throat and glared at me. “Help me,” she said, her voice back to a barely audible whisper. “ Want me to win.”

“I do,” I said. But I looked at Nicole. Sweaty, bloody, but haughtily confident. Her unmarked breasts rose and fell as she caught her breath in her corner. It wasn't my doing; Cami had gotten me into this. And why? For a chance to win a night with Nicole's stallion? It was a fool's errand at this point.

Round Eight.

Thirty seconds into the round, Nicole literally knocked Cami out of the ring. She had my brunette pinned against the ropes again when she landed another belly shot that buckled Camille's knees. As Cami fell back, her ass went through the ropes. Nicole hit her in the face. Knocked sideways, she bounced on the apron, and tumbled to the concrete floor.

Nicole caught her breath for a second, then slipped through the ropes to follow. The crowd erupted with blood lust. There was no pretense of a ten count. Cami had made it to her knees when Nicole dropped to the floor. The blonde pulled her the rest of the way up by her hair, then rammed her face down into the ring apron, opening yet another cut, this one on Cami's forehead at her hairline. Nicole smashed her face down again, and again.

Cami was limp, totally in Nicole's control. The blonde moved behind her, catching her in a full nelson. She bent Cami over, grinding her injured breasts into the edge of the ring apron. Cami was screaming again, a harsh, panicked sound. When Nicole pulled her back, both nipples were bleeding, rubbed raw by the canvas and the sharp edge.

Nicole shoved her forward again, releasing her arms. Cami leaned on her elbows on the apron, gasping for breath. The edge was just under her breasts, her belly and hips were up against the facing where the apron dropped to the floor.

Nicole hit her in the back. It was a savage, vicious kidney punch, and Cami's lower body had nowhere to go to dissipate the force of the blow. Cami's head snapped back, her teeth clenched in pain, her eyes squeezed shut.

Nicole hit her again, in the same spot in her lower back, so hard that sweat jumped off of Cami's skin. Cami grabbed the bottom ring rope to stay upright. A sob burst from her throat, an anguished sound more full of pain than her screams.

Nicole hit her again, and Cami's nerveless fingers slipped off the rope as she crumpled to the ground.

Without thinking, I jumped down to the floor. Nicole saw me coming and stepped back. I pushed between her and Camille. I guess, in the heat of the moment, I thought Nicole might attack me. At any rate, I was not prepared for what she did.

She kissed me, a deep, tonguing kiss, her hand massaging my crotch. “Couldn't you wait for me to finish her off?” she purred. Her hand found my erection through my pants, stroked it expertly. The crowd roared.

I pushed her away. Maybe I could have done it quicker. Camille was on her knees, staring at us with hate and rage in her brown eyes. “Get your fucking hands off!” she snarled, at me or at Nicole, I couldn't tell.

Then the dark-haired woman had my arm, pulling me away. “No intereference,” she said. “Get back in your corner.” Confused, I obeyed her. The bell went the way of the ten-count; there was no point to it. The two women were beyond that. It was an all-out fight to the finish now.

Nicole let Camille get to her feet. They faced off in the narrow moat between the ring and the audience. “Give it up, you stupid bitch,” Nicole said. “You can't win.”

Cami's fists came up, clenched. The tape on them was soaked with blood, hers and Nicole's. “Fuck you,” she said.

Nicole moved in a step. “You want to die?” she said. “Is that it? Do you want me to just fucking beat the life out of you, rather than lose your silly pride? Because let me tell you, there's nothing for you to be proud of. Everyone here has seen me kick your ass. I've already humiliated you. You want more?”

Her voice was as damaged as Cami's but her words hit the brunette like her fists. Cami blinked. “Yeah, I want more,” she said. Was it my imagination, or did her voice sound even weaker? “You can't make me quit.”

Nicole was very close to Cami now, but I could still hear her. “Oh yes, I can,” she said.

Like a snake striking, she lashed out. Her fist caught Camille across her ripped mouth, blood flying. Cami was knocked sideways against the ring apron, her ribs wide open. Nicole pistoned punches into Cami's side, her fists landing with dull, whacking sounds. When Cami's knees gave way again, Nicole caught her, lifting her up onto the apron and rolling her under the ropes.

I thought Nicole would climb back into the ring after her, but she didn't. Instead, she reached over the bottom ring rope and grabbed Cami by the hair. She dragged Cami's head back out through the ropes, twisting her onto her back. Cami lay there limply, the bottom rope sagging under her but holding her weight, her legs stretched out into the ring. Nicole pulled her another foot, until her arms fell loose onto the apron, until the ring rope was in the middle of her back. The back of Cami's head rested on the edge of the apron. Her breasts jutted up as her back arched, pointed between Nicole and the ceiling.

Still holding Cami's hair with her left hand, Nicole used her right fist to ruin what was left of Cami's already brutalized breasts. She punched with brutal efficiency, every blow driving straight into soft tissue. She turned Cami's once-beautiful 36C breasts into sagging, bloody bags. Cami was powerless to fight back or even defend herself. It went on and on, relentlessly, until Nicole tired of it and let her go.

I was amazed to see Camille pull herself off the rope when Nicole released her. She still had a spark of self-preservation, scooting away from the ropes back towards the center of the ring. She even tried to get up, but she couldn't. She lay on her back in the ring, sobbing in pain.

Nicole took her time climbing back into the ring. She was spent herself, ready to drop. Finally, she pulled herself up onto the apron, and rolled under the ropes. She waved the dark-haired woman into the ring. Everyone there knew why: to witness Cami's final submission.

The fist fight was over. Nicole had beaten Camille down, broken her body. Now, to finish her, she was going to deliver a final, continuous dose of pain. And for that, she needed something more constant than fists. Nicole rolled Cami over and squatted across her back. She pulled Cami's arms back, draping them over her thighs, pinning them behind her own arms. Lacing her fingers across Camille's chin, she rocked back.

It was a perfect camel clutch. Nicole had picked her hold with deliberate cruelty. Cami's back was weakened from the pounding kidney punches; this hold bent her spine into a severe arch. Her abdominal muscles were jelly from repeated battering; this hold pulled them to the point of tearing. Her throat, damaged by that vicious chop, was stretched unbearably as Nicole dragged her head back. And her breasts – her tortured, destroyed breasts – were pulled screamingly tight, jutting up and out, trickling blood down over her upper stomach.

“Ask her,” Nicole said. The dark-haired women knelt by Camille's head, and spoke softly. Cami couldn't open her mouth, couldn't even move her head. Still, she forced a low “No,” through clenched teeth.

Nicole simply bent her another inch. “Again,” she said to the dark-haired woman. Another no, but it was weaker this time. Nicole forced another inch. God, would Cami's spine snap under the pressure? “Again,” Nicole's said, her own teeth clenched now as she pulled back with all the strength she had left.

This time, Cami couldn't answer. I could see tears streaming from her swollen eyes. A minute ticked by endlessly. “Ask her,” Nicole gasped.

I could hear Cami's answer, and it broke my heart. “Yes,” Cami whispered, her raw lips barely moving. “Stop. Please. No more.”

It was over. Nicole let her go, Cami's face smacking wetly to the canvas like a final exclamation mark as her head fell. The dark-haired woman raised Nicole arm, announced her as the winner as the crowd roared. Nicole stood shakily, her arms and legs near cramping from her final effort. She headed right for me. I couldn't turn away. Her bloody face was repellant and at the same time unbelievably sexy.

Like before, she kissed me, smearing the blood from her lips on mine. Her hands pressed against my stomach, moved down, claimed her prize. “Don't even look at her,” she whispered in my ear. “If you do, I'll go back and I'll kill her, right now. Do you doubt that I will?”

I didn't. How could I, after what I had seen? She led me away from the ring. We passed the doctor as she headed for Camille. I couldn't look back.