“I have a proposition,” said the voice on the phone. Amber recognized it as Ramirez's. That she didn't hang up indicated how much her life had changed. She had never been popular at DEA, always considered to be a rogue agent. Then the word had gotten out, no doubt from some of Ramirez's associates, that she had been taken by Ramirez and then won her release by fighting Ramirez's girl to the death in a barbed wire ring. And that the fight had been her idea. Even though it had been her only chance, people looked at her differently now, whispered behind her back. So she quit.

She didn't miss it, she found, except for the life-or-death thrill that sometimes came with the dangerous work. And even that thrill had paled against the terror and excitement of her fight with Lupe. She thought a lot about the fight – how it had been primitively exhilarating. Life was always terrifying; when the only rule was survival it was at least simple and exciting. She was thinking about that now as she listened to Ramirez. She knew from her duel with Lupe that he liked to watch women fight. She was not surprised when he told her that he knew other powerful men who indulged themselves in the same pleasure. In a way, she was not even surprised that he was calling her.

“I would like to arrange a match,” he said. “Some men I know sponsor a woman.”

“I'll fight her,” Amber said. The words came out very easily.

“I have seen her fight,” Ramirez said. “She is very good, and very cruel.”

“And still you are willing to sponsor me,” she said. For the first time in the conversation, she was a little surprised. She sounded almost flirtatious, talking to Ramirez about a deathfight with another woman.

Ramirez paused a beat. “The betting odds against you will be very high,” he said. “You are an unknown, and she is, again, very good.”

“You know, because you have seen her fight. But you have also seen me fight,” she said, still sounding like foreplay. “And you think those odds might be profitable for you.”

“All of life is a risk,” he said. “I think to wager on you would be a risk that I am willing to take.”

They flew to Paris a few weeks later. The fight would take place in a lavish, isolated house maintained by the group for such events. Amber felt as if she were preparing for a toney cocktail party. Ramirez arranged for her hair and make-up to be professionally done. She shopped at fine boutiques for her clothes, choosing a stunning knee-length white silk gown. It followed every muscle and curve in her body. Her ensemble was completed by shoes provided by Ramirez, stylish but with razor-thin spike heels that were meant to be more than fashionable.

They arrived at the house shortly before midnight . The long, wooded driveway was solid with luxury cars, all with silent drivers waiting, surreptitiously watching her as she walked by. Once inside, they were escorted to an impressively large, expensively furnished room. Ramirez introduced her to the man acting the part of host, a large Russian who glanced appreciatively at her cleavage before bowing to kiss her hand. There were maybe thirty people milling around the room in hushed tones, men in tuxedos accompanied by beautiful, athletic young women in gowns. She was being initiated into a very exclusive club.

Then she saw her opponent. Ramirez had obtained the videotapes of past matches, professionally produced as tonight's would be, even though Amber saw no evidence of cameras. Amber had watched her coolly destroy three women, inflicting maximum pain and humiliation before finishing them. Her name was Linh. She was a lithe, dark-haired woman with the heart-stopping beauty that only the mixture of French and Asian blood could produce. She had grown up in the slums of Hanoi , Ramirez said, and she had learned early to fight mercilessly for survival.

Linh met Amber's eyes from across the room. With a slight smile, she came toward them. “It is a pleasure to meet you,” she said, her English accented but fluent. “I am so looking forward to this. You arrogant American bitches always beg so delightfully before you die.”

Amber smiled back at her. They could have been discussing stock options at the country club party. “The pleasure is mine,” she said. She pictured snapping Linh's neck, and felt that satisfying thrill run through her, even – if she were to be honest about the sensation - arousing her. “I will enjoy getting to know you better.”

Linh laughed. She had a thin scar running from the corner of her left eye down her cheek that was nearly invisible until her eyes crinkled. “Likewise,” she said. “Especially those luscious tits of yours.” She swung around, her perfect teardrop ass swaying as she glided away. Amber remembered the tapes she had watched of Linh's past fights. The Eurasian girl had a trademark of sadistically attacking her opponents' breasts. Amber felt her nipples harden just a little more at the thought.

Their host clapped his hands for attention. Ramirez translated the little that Amanda needed to know as the rest of the crowd moved to the walls, leaving the two of them and Linh and her patron in the center. In a moment the two women would remove their gowns, to fight wearing only thongs and heels. Any item in the room could be used as a weapon. Any plea for mercy or submission was to be ignored; the winner would be determined only by a kill. “Not that you care about money,” Ramirez murmured as she handled him her earrings. “But you will be a very wealthy woman when you win.” She noticed the when . Curiously, she was warmed by the confidence of the man she had always considered her enemy. She lifted her hair and turned her back, offering him the zipper at the back of her neck. She shivered once as he pulled it down. She slid gracefully out of the gown and handed it to him.

Linh and Amber were left alone now as the host joined the circling crowd. Linh had also stripped down, and Amber had to admit to herself that she had an impressive body. Linh's arms and shoulders were strong. Her trunk narrowed to a slim, hard-muscled waist. Her French blood revealed itself in long, perfect legs. Her breasts were large and high on her chest.

“You have scars,” Linh said. The brunette carried a crosshatch of scars on her breasts from her barbed wire fight in Ramirez's compound. “I suppose you think you have endured pain before?”

“Listen, cunt,” Amber said. The country club air was rapidly dissipating from the room. “It's time for you to shut your fucking mouth.”

Linh slapped her. The Eurasian girl's hand was so quick that Amber barely saw it. That's not good, she thought fleetingly as her head snapped sideways. Two seconds later, she was on her knees, gasping for air. Linh had hit her four times in the body, lightning fast fists into her belly. Amber had been hit harder; in her fight with Lupe the Latina has brutalized her with brass knuckled body blows. But Linh's quickness was like nothing she'd ever seen. The videotape did not do her justice. And even though bigger women might hit harder, Linh knew the art of placement. Every punch she threw was aimed for tender spots.

Linh walked behind the kneeling American. “Time for me to shut my fucking mouth?” she said. “I may take your tongue for that, when I tire of listening to your screams.” She kicked Amber in the back, driving the pointed toe of her shoe into her kidneys. Amber's head came back as she grimaced in pain; Linh caught her by the hair and dragged her over onto her back. Before Amber could even flinch, Linh had dropped onto her, ramming her fist down into the brunette's exposed throat.

Amber's hands flew to her throat. “Ahhhh . .” she croaked. Linh cut off the sound with two more rapid-fire punches, this time into her unprotected face. The second of the two opened a cut above her right eye. Linh clutched her by the throat with one hand and dug the thumbnail of her other into the cut, working the small gash into a two-inch laceration. Blood over Amber's face.

Then Linh was gone. Amber struggled up, desperately gasping for breath and trying to locate her foe. She made it to one knee before she spotted Linh coming back with a silver candlestick from the mantelpiece. She raised both arms to fend off the blow she expected and Linh instead kicked her low in the belly. Amber moaned as a cramp swept through her gut, but she kept her hands up. Linh hesitated for the first time. She had expected that the kick would open up Amber's head and shoulders for her.

That split-second was enough. From her knees, Amber fired her first shot of the fight, and she knew it had to be a good one. With all the power she could put behind it, she uppercut her fist into Linh's crotch. The sound of knuckles cracking into pubic bone was audible. Linh screamed as a flame of pain shot through her pelvis. Amber swept the Eurasian's legs from under her, sending the candlestick bouncing on the richly carpeted floor. In a flash, she straddled Linh, and snaked her hands around her throat.

Amber bore down, choking Linh out. Linh whipped and bucked, but couldn't dislodge the American. Failing that, her hands came up like a raptor's talons, and clamped onto Amber's breasts bobbing above her. Amber clenched her teeth against the sudden, shooting pain. Linh's fingernails were filed to knife-sharp points. You can take it, Amber thought. Just long enough to choke her to death.

Linh's face was beginning to darken. Her hands worked all the harder. Tears streamed down Amber's cheeks, mixing with the blood still running from her eyebrow. Linh's nails were sunk deep into Amber's tits, her grip crushing her. Blood was beginning to bubble up from Linh's fingertips. “Stop it,” Amber moaned. “Die, you whore!” She squeezed Linh's throat with all her might. One minute, she thought. Take it for one minute.

Now Linh slowly raked her imbedded nails down across the curve of Amber's breasts, harrowing her. Amber screamed, half in agony and half trying to psyche herself to maintain the chokehold. Linh dug her thumbnails into Amber's hard nipples, inverting them and ripping into the hypersensitive flesh of her areola. Blood was dripping from Amber's breasts now, splashing like raindrops on Linh's chest. Keeping her thumbnails imbedded in Amber's nipples, Linh plunged in each forefinger as well, and began to twist.

Amber broke. Her hands flew to Linh's wrists, jerking the tormenting hands free off her chest. Linh drew a huge shuddering breath and bucked Amber off with a hard twist of her hips. They lay side by side for a moment: Amber cradling her damaged tits, sobbing in pain; Linh with her head back, massaging her throat as she sucked in gulps of oxygen.

Linh made it up first, her chest still heaving. Amber sensed it and forced herself to her hands and knees. “A few more seconds,” Linh panted. “You should know how close you were, before you quit.” She stepped on Amber's hand, dragging a scream from the brunette as she twisted her spike heel. “You should also know,” Linh added, “that was only a taste of what I'm going to do to your tits.” She kicked Amber in the chest, as if punctuating what she'd said, then kicked her again, in the head.

Amber rolled, dazed. Linh grabbed her by the hair and dragged her across the carpet, to slam her face-first into the mahogany coffee table before letting her go. “Stand up, cunt,” Linh taunted. “Let's box a little.” Boxing was too polite a word to describe what happened after Amber made it to her feet. Linh knocked her down again almost immediately, then pulled her back up by her hair. Amber tried, but Linh was too quick, and too good. Linh hit her almost at will: hard, pumping fists that cut her face. If the brunette raised her hands an inch too much to protect her head, Linh knifed jabs into her body, hammering her already brutalized breasts. Amber was knocked down over and over. Each time Linh pulled her back up immediately. She maneuvered the American into the grand piano and slung her atop of it. Climbing up to straddle Amber's waist, Linh punched straight down into her face and chest. The piano strings hummed muffled echoes of the blows that vibrated through Amber's battered body.

Linh slackened her attack, looking down on Amber, who was nearly unconscious. She did so love humiliating the hapless women they sent against her. She ground her crotch against Amber's sweat-slicked belly, slowly gyrating her hips as she played with her nipples. She bent over the American, theatrically licking her face, tasting her blood. She was disappointed when Amber still offered no resistance. She swept her off the piano, unceremoniously dumping her on the plush carpet.

Linh looked around the room, selecting her next move. With a few catlike steps, she relieved a servant of a glass of champagne. She smiled as she tasted it delicately, then poured the rest slowly onto Amber's face. The cold fizz revived the American. She moved, but sluggishly, as if underwater. Linh was much quicker. She rapped the thin crystal glass against the edge of the piano top, shattering its top half to leave a jagged rim of razor-sharp glass. Linh dropped astride Amber, pinning her to the floor with a hand on her throat and her knees on her arms.

She showed Amber the broken glass, holding it inches from her startled eyes, now fully alert again. Like a surgeon, she sliced across each of Amber's cheekbones, opening thin cuts that wept blood. “Now it's time to see how tough you really are,” Linh said, and jabbed the glass into Amber's left breast. Amber's screams echoed through the room as Linh sadistically cut at her, working on the tender undersides of her breasts and her nipples until the brunette's beautiful chest was so much raw meat. After a minute of inhuman torture, Amber fainted again.

Linh, disgusted, tossed the glass aside. “I should just kill this cunt now,” she said, to no one in particular. She stood, this time sweeping the room for something she could use to finish Amber off. She spotted the match to the candlestick she had lost before.

Amber came to as Linh moved off. Her tits hurt so badly she felt unhinged from reality. Distantly, she knew that she was close to going into shock. Still, a small part of her brain shrieked at her to fight back, that if she didn't she would die in the next minute. She fought to focus her eyes on Linh, and lay still.

The Eurasian girl was too cocky. She strutted back with the candlestick raised, intending to crush Amber's skull where she lay. Too late she realized that Amber was awake. Amber rolled to her side and kicked up.

She caught Linh in the belly, a few inches over her navel. Linh's hard band of muscle saved her somewhat, but Amber still drove her spike heel in to the hilt. Linh buckled at the waist, shocked at the stabbing pain that shot through her gut. Amber jerked her foot back, the shoe heel coming away red with blood, and drove it into Linh's left knee. The shoe heel sliced neatly into the joint as the force of the kick bent it grotesquely inward. Amber heard ligaments rip and saw Linh's kneecap knocked several inches from where it had been a second before. Then, graying out again, she scrambled to put some space between them.

She snapped back into focus a few seconds later. Linh was down, her face white with pain and rage. Amber saw in a glance that the belly wound she had inflicted was bad but not life-threatening. Still, the sight of Linh bleeding heavily was like pure oxygen to her after the punishment she had taken from the bitch. And one look at Linh's leg gave her new strength. Her knee was ruined, already swelling badly. Linh stared back at her in sheer hatred, but didn't come after her. The pain in her knee was too much.

Two full minutes passed. The crowd waited patiently. They knew that the fight wasn't over. Amber rested as long as she could, waiting until Linh struggled up on one leg before pushing to her feet herself. She wobbled for a second, momentarily dizzy. She wonder how much blood she had lost. She knew she was drenched in it, but forced herself not to look down at her ravaged breasts. She slowly gained control of her balance and began to move in a circle around Linh.

To her credit, Linh didn't flinch. She was breathing in short, ragged gasps as she fought to ignore the blinding pain in her leg, but she still twisted herself with short hops to face Amber. Amber felt no pity. Even on one leg Linh was dangerous, particularly when Amber was so badly damaged she could barely stand herself. Mobility was not likely to play a big part in the rest of this war anyway. It would be more a matter of who could take the greater dose of pain.

Amber decided quickly to take that test to Linh. She charged into her, taking with a sharp cry of pain a precision chop into her chest as she bulled Linh to the floor. She clinched tight, snaking her arms inside of Linh's and around her waist. She buried her face in the side of Linh's neck and squeezed. She cried out as her breasts were crushed against Linh's, but at least the other woman couldn't get at them with her lethal fingernails.

Amber poured on the bearhug. She heard Linh's ragged breath in her ear, heard her gasp as she tightened her grip. She was straddling Linh now, lifting her to a sitting position as she pulled her knees under herself. Linh's back bent as Amber dug her clenched fists into her spine down low.

Linh's hands were on Amber's back as well. With Amber's arms inside of hers, she couldn't retaliate with her own bearhug. She raked her nails down the length of the brunette's back, dug them into her ass. Amber ignored it, digging in harder. She could feel Linh's torso straining against her arms, muscles rigid. Then Amber carefully shifted her right knee, and pushed it down onto Linh's injured leg.

The Eurasian girl would have screamed if she had had the air in her lungs to do so. Instead, she gave a shuddering sob as her resistance failed. Amber didn't hesitate. She jerked her bearhug even tighter. She imagined Linh's ribs cracking under her pressure, and the thought spurred her strength. Her arms and shoulders and back corded with effort. She could no longer hear Linh's breath.

She held her grip as long as she could. Her arms cramped too soon, the pain shooting through her forcing her to release her foe. Linh fell limply out of her arms, but she wasn't dead. She immediately sucked in air, her closed eyes fluttering open. And her hands, like cobras striking, shot up for Amber's exposed breasts. Amber screamed as fingernails ripped into the lacerations she had already suffered. She drew back her fist and drove it into Linh's face until the other woman let her go.

Amber felt reality slipping away. She had to kill Linh now. But the bitch just wouldn't die. No matter what Amber did, she came back after Amber's breasts again. Even now, Linh was struggling to get up again. Amber pushed herself up, screaming senselessly now. She hit Linh, a bone-shattering shot in the face. Linh fell, unable to keep her balance with one leg. Amber came at her from behind. She grabbed Linh's blood-slicked jaw with her right hand and jammed her left hand into Linh's temple, and with all the strength she had she jerked her tormenter's head sideways and up. Linh's neck snapped with a harsh crack that seemed to echo in the hushed room.

Amber had won. She fell back, utterly spent. She lay on her back, dazed, as the crowd moved forward. One man, murmuring that he was a doctor, began to staunch the wounds on her chest and face. She saw Ramirez bend over her and tried to smile at him. “Get her to the hospital,” she heard him say to the doctor, and then she heard nothing more.

She recovered, in time, and enjoyed her wealth immensely.