Fighting Fire with Fire

by Aristocatch

The first time I fought in a filmed catfight was just by chance. This guy came into the shop where I work, looking to buy some lighting equipment as he had a problem with his. After a few minutes talking to me to asked if I would be interested in doing a catfight later that evening. He wanted to film two fights, but one fighter had called off. When he said there was money in it (win or lose) I said yes.

The girl I fought was not very experienced. Afterwards the producer told me he was impressed with how much I had improved during the fight. I took quite a beating during the first round, and submitted once. Round two was much more even and I felt I clearly dominated the third round, winning a submission to end up with a drawn match.

At any rate the producer was pleased and contacted me a few weeks later to see if I wanted to fight again. He was honest telling me that I would be fighting a quite experienced opponent who had won her last three fights with him very easily. He did promise to let me watch those fights in advance.

I worked out at the gym, watched the fights and nearly panicked. She was a mean bitch who, when she got her claws into an opponent didn't let go. But watching her fights again I began to notice that despite her dominance, whenever her tits were being grabbed, she quickly removed the offending hand before renewing her attacks. Maybe, just maybe, I had found her Achilles heel. Time would tell.

It was clear that I was going to get hurt. I couldn't hope to out fight her and trying to defend myself as her other three opponents had done, wouldn't significantly change that. So why not accept the pain (if I could) and combat it by attacking back, especially her tits.

Fight day arrived and I was relieved to find that my opponent wasn't as physically dominating as her previous fights had suggested. We were much of a size. Her tits were perhaps a bit bigger, but weight and height wise there was little to choose. Standard rules were adopted. Three rounds, no blows to the head, strangling etc, but slapping and kicking was allowed. We were told to ignore the camera and concentrate on the fight. They would do what they could with two cameras to ensure that they got coverage of the 'juicy' bits.

My opponent was quite pleasant while we were getting ready but told me, quite nicely really, that she had no intention of going easy on me because of my lack of experience, or to make the fight last longer!

As in her three fights that I had viewed she started by keeping her distance and looking to land a few slaps to get her warmed up. I took several hits to various parts of the body, but felt modestly happy to have landed two flush on her tit. The second caused her to advance the fight perhaps quicker than intended and I was able to counter her, one hand hair, one her hand leading to a lengthy stalemate while we were both standing.

When she made her move that I had seen several times in the films of her previous fights to try to get both hands into my hair, I was ready and, lowering my body weight, I drove her to the floor. Caught unawares, she landed poorly and found me atop of her. I got one of her arms between my legs, and held her other with my left hand. That gave me a hand free. Unfortunately my body was in the way of getting at her tits, so I had to make do with pulling her hair.

She tried bridging to unseat me, planting her feet on the floor and arching her back, but I felt it coming and used my free hand to keep myself on her body. Her third attempt was the strongest, and partially unseated me. Amazingly however, I managed not only to keep her arm between my legs, but also to regain my balance facing down her body and not up, leaving her right breast clear of my body, which partially covered her left one.

Of course my free hand didn't wait to use this offered target and I dug my fingers well into it. A sharp intake of breath was music to my ears, but even if she didn't like having breast mauled, she was a tough cookie and she was prepared to brazen it out until she could get her own back, as she was sure she would.

She bridged again, spreading her legs apart to help her and giving me a clear view of her pussy. Discussions with my first ever opponent had revealed that clawing pussy was a dangerous tactic. Often fighters left it well alone, other than when using wedgies which were not viewed the same as mangling nude pussy. I had gone along with my opponent's suggestion of fighting nude, having felt how painful a wedgie could be in my first fight, so that option wasn't open. Her pussy was bare, unguarded and within reach. What a dilemma.

Then I remembered that I had decided to take the attack to her. This was now or never, so I went for it. My free hand got hold of pussy and clawed. She didn't like that, but still couldn't get me off. Just pussy clawing, even though I quickly developed a technique which I felt should be causing pain, didn't make her submit and, let's face it, that was now my objective. I let go of her other hand and grabbed nipple, viciously. She grabbed my hair and pulled equally viciously, but hair can always grow again.

One of my hands was doing very unpleasant things to her pussy. The other was being equally unkind to her nipple. Up top my scalp was on fire.

She knew that she would have the beating of me, and that there was plenty of time left to win submissions from me, and so she submitted without wasting more time. I had a totally unexpected one-nil lead.

I didn't get carried away, but I did feel that I had justified the producer's faith in me. I found out after that no-one had got her to submit in the last two years so I had already virtually guaranteed the success of the film of the fight.

I breathed as hard as I could, filling my lungs, calming myself, remembering that I had found what I thought was a weakness and that I needed to concentrate on it during the rest of the fight.

She came out slowly at the restart and made no effort to risk going for a quick equaliser. We exchanged a few slaps and the odd kick, but I soon realised that she was playing out time, waiting for round two. I heard the producer announce five seconds, so I rushed her landing resounding slaps on both of her tits before he called time up.

The break was very welcome and I gulped down water. Maybe I should invent an excuse not to continue, claim an injury and therefore a win. That isn't my style. If you have to lose go down fighting and all that.

The second round saw my opponent come out kicking. She was much more adept than I, and I took two particularly hard kicks, one of which only just missed my pussy, without really causing her any concern. I couldn't carry on with a kicking battle; firstly I had never kicked anyone in a fight before, as secondly I was going to risk more serious injury if I did.

She came at me, kicking and swinging. Risking a lot I tried to duck under her blows and seize a leg. My body was hit hard, but I succeeded and dumped her on her back. Maintaining one of her legs, I had thought to twist it into a hold, but she was still kicking mad and I had to abandon that idea.

I made a mess of trying to move from her leg to her body and found my head being held in one of her arms. She began manoeuvring to get me where she wanted me, so I went back to game plan. My arms were free so I ignored defending her move and went for her tits. I could get used to mangling her boobs, even more so that she promptly removed her arms from around my neck to defend her assets.

For what seemed ages we rolled around, one hand holding the others hair and the other seeking to hurt the other. She mixed blows into my body with squeezing my boobs. I kept trying to get a hand on her tits, and seemingly annoyed her enough to stop her putting her superior fighting skills into use. Two or three times she tried to get a hand on my pussy, but each time she abandoned the move to protect her breasts. I got the feeling that she had become a bit obsessed with paying me back for what I had done to her pubes. So much the better, if it put her off using her skills efficiently.

We had merely been holding each others hair, to keep the head in place, but now she began pulling harder, moving my head until she was able to stride me. Of course I released her hair and grabbed both of her breasts. She released my hair to prize my hands off, force them down and slowly slide upwards until her pussy was inches from my face and my arms were pinned. Logically she should have attacked my breasts at will, on the basis that if I couldn't wriggle free I would submit. Even the best can become obsessed and lose track of logic and she was no exception.

It was clawing my pussy that she was after and she merely pinched one nipple as she tried to turn around to face down my body. By the time she was around, I was no longer lying flat and she was accordingly off balance. She still had her idée fixe, and seeing it fast disappearing she launched herself forward and plunged a hand between my legs. I didn't have time to protect them, and so I got to feel what an angry woman's fingers could do to tender parts. I also got to see her bum up in the air and her sex exposed, so fighting fire with fire, I grabbed her pussy.

Initially she responded by digging her fingers in harder, so I pulled hard on her pussy lips. Common sense prevailed and letting go she rolled clear.

Now that she had tasted blood so to speak, she was calmer and she began to attack me much more methodically, looking to wear me down by constant blows and changed targets, leaving me reacting and unable to really take the fight to her. Her tits went virtually unscathed – I couldn't say the same for mine.

Then I was on my back, her legs wound round me, the heel of one pressing into my pussy and her hands filled with squeezed boob flesh. Initially getting no submission, she targeted both nipples leaving me no sensible choice other than to submit.

One all and rather annoyingly not that long left in round two. I danced around and she came after me, until time was called. Long enough to take far more than I gave and to most parts of my body. The break between rounds couldn't come fast enough.

Round three and all to play for as they say. However I didn't feel any confidence that I could pull off a surprise victory and not much more that I could hold out for a draw. Still I was determined that she would remember me for several days after until her bruises faded and maybe even longer for her tits if I could keep attacking them whenever. Indeed this was probably my best form of defence. The longer she spent prizing my hands off her boobs, the longer she spent without beating me up!

Famous last words. The way she started round three left no doubt that I had annoyed her enough and now she was going to put me in my place. I have already mentioned her standard starting move but this time I couldn't prevent it. With both of her hands in my hair I was pulled all over the place, then down to the floor and repeatedly kicked, without managing to reply. Twisting and turning only risked tearing my hair out by the roots.

Eventually I did get hold of her ankles and then her knees. From there to thighs and she soon guessed where I might go next. Avoiding that, she did give me the chance to turn to face her and then to launch myself up her body, this time finding my favourite target. She was not pleased at this uppity woman who hadn't yet learnt that a champion's boobs should be respected.

Amazingly she decided to fight back, releasing my hair and we thrashed around dishing it our to whatever we could reach. Both of her tits and even her pussy felt my claws as, of course, mine felt hers. She certainly wasn't playing at pussy grabs, really going to town on my pubes with all the force in her fingers. She certainly caused me far more pain than I caused her, but I was happy knowing that I was still hurting her well into our fight and with the score still tied.

The idea of merely drawing the fight wasn't one that she was prepared to consider. She hadn't fought several consecutive victories without building up a large amount of fighting experience. I had thrown her planning by not being a novice who couldn't stand pain, and it began to dawn on her that she needed to use this experience to ensure a further victory. Making me submit was her only goal.

Now if you go out to attack and force submissions you need to use your hands. That means you cannot have them tied up holding your opponent's hands away from your body. If your opponent has their hands free, they can target your more vulnerable parts. Either you defend them, reducing your attacking opportunities, or you accept getting hurt and trust to your ability to find winning moves, despite some pain.

In her previous fights she had suffered relatively little pain and hadn't been obliged to win the hard way. Champions become champions by being able to adapt, and she now showed her true worth. But, from my point of view, she also gave me the chance to hurt her – not as much as she was hurting me, but enough to feel euphoric, so euphoric in fact that it almost hid the pain she was causing me.

We fought mostly on the floor. She trying to find the winning submission, me trying to prevent it by attacking back. She knew time was running out and she finally stopped defending her breasts, leaving them to my tender mercies as she tried to put me into a position from which I would have to concede. Even though attacking them no longer brought me respite, I continued mauling those boobs whenever I could. I didn't have the wrestling skills to compete any other way.

I kept trying to get a hand between her legs, hoping that she couldn't so easily ignore such pain, but had little success. When she attacked me there, I did all I could to limit the damage, fairly successfully for what seemed like ages.

Finally the moment came when she twisted me into a position that I couldn't hope to describe. Suffice to say that my pussy was at her mercy, and I found no way to escape as her fingers began to torture me. However euphoric I felt, it couldn't hide that real pain that she was causing me (and even the fear that she might be doing me some real damage down there). I submitted.

Two-one down and with less than a minute left. Either I accepted defeat and tried to simply limit the damage during those last seconds or I threw caution to the wind.

She certainly expected me to go for damage limitation. I was pretty sure she had mangled my pussy rather more than she needed to simply to get a submission. She had meant to leave me in enough pain that I wouldn't want to risk any more. She would grab my hair, put me on the floor and then use her legs to keep me away from her until the time was up.

Rookies however don't always do as expected!

She came out firing off kicks and slaps, keeping me out of harm's way and then she went for my hair. I knew she would and so I ducked right down. Her arms went over my head and I landed an almighty slap right on her unprotected pussy – perfectly legal, but rarely seen.

Clearly you do not slap a champion's pussy. Infra dig!

She was mad and she literally threw herself at me – all thoughts of playing out time gone.

I took a flurry of punches to the body, even as I pulled her nipples out to impressive lengths. Finally that hurt her enough to force her to try to pull my hands away. So I grabbed her pussy – she grabbed mine. A mutual pussy claw. She simply held mine, hoping perhaps that I would do the same; point made, no reason to suffer excessive pain in a losing cause. Fat chance. Causing her pain was just what I had in mind.

The camera would show where our hands were, but probably not just what they were doing. To my mind she had overstepped the mark when getting her winning submission. I had no reason to be nice to her. I wasn't. Pussy attacks are quite permitted (even encouraged) in the rules of the fight, without being really defined. I'm pretty sure my fingers went beyond the spirit of the rule but, after all, a fight is a fight and in a fight you hurt your opponent. Her cry of pain was music to my ears.

With seconds left she obviously wasn't going to submit. Indeed I had no way of keeping her pussy in my hand. She chose not to fight fire with fire and pushed and kicked me away. I took that as a moral victory.

It would be greedy to claim that I was disappointed not to get another chance to hurt her tits, but I don't mind being greedy. She made sure I didn't – totally on the back foot, defending at all costs as I hunted her down. Not the way a champion would choose to finish a victorious fight.

On camera after she congratulated me on putting up a good fight. The producer made sure that everyone could see the marks I had left, especially on her tits. She made no other comments concerning how I had hurt her – no sense in giving future opponents any pointers.

The producer said nice things on camera about my efforts and even nicer ones later as he promised me further fights if I wanted them. By then my body was hurting like hell but the sight of my opponent nursing her wounds with ice and various creams was so satisfying that I said of course I wanted more.