No Limits Part 8
by Regis
Wendy looked at Megan, and saw they were in the same frame of mind. They were both ready to kill the other, and to make it as painful and shocking an experience as possible. It didn't matter to either of them if it was murder or sport - they were both ready!
The first thing they had been trained to do by their handlers was to mix with the members and their guests, and to be on their best behavior while visiting, smiling and talking about what she planned to her opponent, and giving vivid details on how she would do it. Filthy language was encouraged during this phase, but always with a sweet innocent tone of voice. It was as stimulating to hear disgusting language from a sweet innocent looking young girl as it was exciting to watch her being insanely brut@l to another naked young woman in the extreme fight cage.
Both Wendy and Megan had received transfusion of their own blood drawn the day before and fortified with oxygen. They had also been given injections of stimulants to raise their level of aggression. Both felt pumped and also rising anxiety, a natural effect of the drugs at work in their system. Their minds were racing, their breathing and pulse rates were accelerated, and their blood pressure was elevated. Adrenalin coursed through their veins, and yet they managed to appear calm as they spoke with members of the audience.
Wendy's first thought was that these people wanted to see her die, but then she realized they had also presented her with the opportunity to something far beyond what she imagined would be ever possible. The death that was about to take place was not necessarily going to be hers. She took a deep breath, using her tummy to move her diaphragm as she had been trained to do by her coach, and began to draw her mind into focus on the fight about to ensue, and on what she would have to do to emerge the winner.
It was perfectly natural for her to want to seriously hurt her opponent, and the prescribed mandate for the fighters in this event just took that instinct to the next natural step. She was pretty sure that killing a girl she didn't even know would be no sweat, particularly knowing that if she didn't the beautiful tan-color black bitch would kill her. She broke out into a sweat as she thought of the reality she faced. Would she have come across the border that first time with the coach if she had any idea her trip to excitement in Tijuana might lead to this?
When she joined the fighters at the Cage Club she had heard rumors that there really were death fights in their ring, but she thought that was just the bizarre dreams of the girls who told her such fantastic things. The thought had excited her, causing a stirring in her gut and a shortness of breath as she thought about it, but that was just fantasy. Or so she thought at the time.
Wendy realized there really were $nuff films, in which a bare naked woman was brut@lized, tortured and then killed. When she was in grade 10 one of the older guys who, hoping to get lucky, hung out at the cafe where most of the girls spent their leisure time after school bragged he had worked on one, hauling lights into the basement of some rich guy's house. She was sure he was telling the truth, particularly when he said he didn't really see it, because he was a real braggart, but when he returned the next morning to pick up the lights told them he could see where someone had cleaned a lot of blood off the floor.
He said he also saw lots of rope and a pile of bloody knives in the room, as well as some strewn female clothing, including a bra and panties. Whatever had happened there, the woman it had happened to must have died bare naked. When he got out into daylight at the truck he also saw some blood splattered on the lights and light stands he was carrying. He would have said he had seen it happen and described it, maybe even saying he helped do her, if he was lying. That's what guys were like, so this one was probably telling the truth.
She was pretty sure the girls she roomed with in Tijuana who talked about fights to the death were crazies. $nuff films done in a very private place somewhere and killing for show with people watching were really different things, but the girls liked to gossip and fantasize. As real fighters, they all found the idea of actually killing an opponent fascinating, and it was a frequent topic at the house. None of them said they would really do it if given the choice, but the topic remained alive and intriguing to the girls.
They agreed that if it really happened it wouldn't be murder, like the $nuff films were, but were more a thing about chance, because a girl always had the chance not to be the one who lost. When a girl had to kill her opponent to avoid being the one to die it was a perfect example of self-defense. Some said the argument against that was that by going into the cage, even not knowing how it would turn out, if the intention to kill her opponent was real, then it was 1st degree murder. Wendy thought this was all bullsh!t intended to make girls hesitant, so that those who had doubts would be more likely to be losers.
This had all been speculation, but it didn't really matter, because she had been sure there was no such thing as an audience wanting girls to actually kill each other. That was insane. But then there was the doctor's crematorium, and she knew what that was all about. There was no absolute proof that all girls ended up there, but those pictures that lined the walls of that room with the specialized furnace had to mean it was a good possibility.
And then she was promoted to the well-guarded secret level of killer fighters, girls required to kill their opponent in the course of an extreme fight. Wendy, at the age of 18 already a seasoned extreme fighter, was about to enter the fight cage to kill another girl in her late teens, a beautiful total stranger with a kill to her credit who was also committed to try and kill her. The death of one of them was not going to be for any reason she understood was really important, like for gambling or for making an extreme video, where the winner could win a big prize or maybe make some residuals, but the required killing in this fight was just to give these important people their jollies. Maybe that was all that was necessary.
As she thought about the money, she recognized that the Cage Club had made her quite wealthy, because she had nearly $10,000. in the Club's in-house private bank for employees and fighters. It wasn't like her dad's bank account, because she didn't have a checkbook or anything, but she didn't need to write any checks anyway because the bank clerk kept her affairs for her, and taking care of her tab for junk food from the tuck shop, meals in the cafeteria and clothes from their store. They had given her a credit line to use in their in-house shops, and cheap medical attention from the doctor after every fight.
It would be a ch@ll?ng? to get her money out of them before she left. She didn't know where they kept it, because it was never given to her as cash. Wendy used to get cash at the end of the weekend from Pancho's Cantina and Punch Barn, so she always had money in her jeans when she left to go home to San Diego, but here at the Club all she ever saw was the tally book the clerk had, with deposits and all her deductions written down. They had even paid her share of the rent in the house where she had lived with the other, and gave her a small allowance to cover gum and bus fare, but they always kept her earnings in their own bank. The money was hers by rights, because she had fought so hard to earn it.
It wasn't that she wanted to leave her job as a Class A fighter, but she was getting really worried that she was going to be killed before she got to leave. Every time she won she would be pitted against better, older and more experienced fighters until one day she would be unable to beat her opponent, and would end up dead, like she now knew someone did after every Class A fight.
What was even more surprising was that with girls dying in the preliminary fights tonight, you didn't even have to be a Class A fighter to be at severe risk. Those two over-the-hill old 35-year-old ladies in the first fight, or the "specials" with those big rings in their crotches, or even those two Mexican girls - none were as good as Class A's, but two were killed, and there was a good chance both of those badly skinned older ladies were on their way to the States to live with their boyfriends. Their meat would likely be roasted in the crematorium like those who had died. She wondered if they would go into the flames while still alive to entertain not a crowd of young fighters but just the Mexican doctor. That dude was a real piece of work.
No matter how she cut it, she was in trouble, and she would have to take one step at a time. Killing this gorgeous brown girl was the first step, simply because this was a kill or be killed choice, with no grey area in between. A short discrete burst on the buzzer almost made her jump out of her shoes. Wendy was wired. The buzzer was rung every fight every night to let the competitors and the audience know the time for the girls to enter the ring had arrived. The audience was also wired, knowing that for this fight, like two of the three that preceded it, there was no chance for both combatants to come out of the cage alive.
Megan preceded Wendy into the cage, and as soon as they were both inside the over-sized padlock was locked in place. When it was to be removed only one of the two young beauties would remain alive. They were both fully clothed in erotic evening dress, and the only sign they were about to engage in battle was their enclosure in the extreme fight cage and the tape on their fists. For this particular mortal contest the tape was used to hold in place brass knuckles on each fist, with the bright metal peaks visible on each knuckle, the tape separating the four vicious gleaming points.
Their thumbs were not restrained, since there was no limit to what they could do in this battle. Gouging and biting were as permissible as punching and head butting. Digging a girl's eye out, as had happened in that amazing second fight tonight, was as acceptable as scratching her face, tits and back. Everything was acceptable, and the audience expected the girls would be as dirty as they were capable of being. Ring experience had taught Wendy that the way to win was to be more creative and uninhibited than her opponent, and that there was no restriction to how she did damage that would enable a win. In this case, fighting dirty would enable a kill.
Since being informed of their participation in this deadly fight just 36 hours earlier, their trainers had told them that most fights to the death involved some kind of assistance. Sometimes when a fight was well along the girls would be thrown small knives to drastically alter the direction of the contest and how it would end. For their fight, because both had great punching capability, it was decided that brass knuckles would be used, right from the beginning. These weapons, when used with enough power and skill, could easily be used to crack her skull and then to literally beat a teenage girl's brains out. Wendy and Megan had both the strength and the skill to kill the other in this manner. Clearly this was going to be a very interesting fight.
The fight began when Wendy and Megan were each handed through the bars a foot-long stick with a foot of heavy line attached to one end, and on the other end of the line was a pair of very large and vicious three-pronged fishhooks. These were the kind of hooks used for tuna fishing, with 1ΒΌ-inch diameter curved prongs, sharp points and barbed ends. These huge fish hooks were sufficient to not only rip off their clothing, but were also big enough to dig deeply into and viciously rip their tender meat.
Also on the handle was a 30-foot heavy line that the handlers kept in hand so that they could retrieve the weapons when they had met their objective. The girls were instructed to use these weapons in a competition to completely undress their opponent. The hooks would of course dig into more than fabric, getting things colorful early in the bout of violent sport. They wondered if these were the only toys they would get to use on each other. Wendy was comfortable she could dominate and defeat her brown-skinned opponent no matter what kind of weapons they were to use on each other.
Wendy began the action by kicking off her mules. She was smart enough to avoid the danger of a spill off the high heeled mules at a bad moment, and knew that with her balance improved, she would get much more power and control of her blows with the hook-weapon. She was glad she hadn't worn any underwear. The hooks could do serious damage to her breasts, hips and tummy if Megan had to go after a bra and panties. The sexy dress she had paid far too much for was her only piece of clothing.
Wendy got in the first blow, swinging her hooks up under the short bottom hem of Megan's beautiful and expensive-looking dress. She jerked the weapon up with all her strength, and ripped the front of the expensive sexy dress right up to Megan's navel. She had not got the barbs into flesh, but there would be plenty of time for that. She intended to do as much damage with the hooks before the weapon was taken from her. That would make the rest of the fight easier. She had long ago learned that early damage was necessary to wear down an opponent to make victory more likely.
The rent in the material revealed that not only did Megan wear an uplift bra to show off her titties, but also a pair of daring see-through panties. Getting a dress off would be easy, but to get panties or a bra off the hooks would get lots of work in her meat. Megan had not foreseen such a start to their fight, and to look sexier had worn the provocative undies, giving Wendy lots to work on. Because Wendy's only garment was the dress, the shapely 18-year-old was otherwise naked. If she played it right she could get past this phase without a scratch.
Megan brought her hooks down hard on the top of Wendy's head, and one of the hooks dug into her scalp. With a violent jerk downward the hook was dragged forward, digging a 4-inch long trough from where it had landed our onto her forehead, and blood trickled down across her right eyelid. She attempted to bat it away, but otherwise gave it little notice as she brought her hooks down hard onto Megan's upper chest. They scratched the flesh as they were jerked severely downward, catching on the low-cut dress and pulling it outward.
With a sudden pull back Wendy managed to rip the material, exposing the bra. The naughty garment was for support only, and purposefully left Megan's erect brown nipples fully exposed. Wendy swung the vicious stick again, even as the hooks on Megan's weapon caught her dress on the side and easily dug through the flimsy material and into her tender meat. This time three of the hooks' prongs dug into Megan's tender exposed titmeat, and Wendy gave a heave on her weapon's handle to rip the beautiful brown mounds, with one barb snagging and splitting the erect nipple.
They flailed at each other's torsos, shredding the dresses which both finally lay in tatters on the marble floor of the enclosing cage. This left Wendy nude but Megan still in her impudent bra and see through panties. Wendy had to concentrate on the two pieces of underclothing, but Megan could pick her targets, and did. Wendy took a severe gouging and ripping of her flesh as she did the same to Megan with blows to her hips and breasts. Blood flowed freely from open gashes on both of the young female combatants.
Soon the bra and panties lay bloodied and shredded beside the torn dresses on the marble floor, but the handlers allowed the two to continue their work on each other with their oversized fish hooks because of the quality of their work on each other, and they continued to rip each others' meat at will. Wendy had sliced Megan's bouncing breasts severely, but Megan concentrated her efforts on Wendy's open cunt. Her hooks pierced and ripped the dangling meat of the surgically distended labia, and her own cunt became a target in retaliation, receiving similar highly visual damage.
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(continued)
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