Phoebe vs Ayami

"Not so tough now, huh?" Ayami threw herself back, relinquishing her grip on Phoebe, the wild jab grazing past her breasts. Her head was still spinning, her sex still throbbed, but this was her chance. She threw herself back in immediately, for her hag of an opponent had been the one controlling the momentum for the whole fight. It was her turn to take charge.

It was her turn to return the favor.

She went for a left jab, aimed at Phoebe's face, leaning in deep and close; but it was a feint. She just needed her opponent to keep her defenses up, hoping her elbow had addled her perception a little. Her real target was exactly where Phoebe had struck her earlier. She crouched low after the jab, both to avoid any potential counter, but to deliver a few swift jabs to Phoebe's crotch.

Phoebe was recovering from the hard elbow to the face, but it was taking some time. Ayami let go of her, and the American fighter backed up a few steps, trying to keep some distance between her and her opponent before the girl could try to take advantage of Phoebe’s very momentary weakness.

Unfortunately, Ayami had already recovered from her earlier abuse, at least enough so that she could give chase to Phoebe. Ayami swung a jab at Phoebe’s face, and the cowgirl would keep her defenses up as she took another step back, ready to absorb the blow. But it was just a feint, and, before Phoebe had time to react, her opponent had bent down low and slammed a fist right into her crotch. Two more punches hit Phoebe in her nether regions before she could stumble backwards far enough to avoid any more. “Gaaah…fuck…!” Phoebe yelled out in pain and doubled over, instinctually clutching at her wounded womanhood.

"Not so tough now, huh? Nothing to add, redneck?" Ayami had it now. She had suffered the indignity of being pushed back by this american whore, but that phase of the fight was done with, forgotten. Now was her chance to turn the momentum in this fight for good, smack the fight out of her until there was nothing left.

Ayami summoned all the strength she could muster, moving forward with sudden speed, swinging a blistering right haymaker at Phoebe's turned-down face.

Phoebe was on the defensive for the moment. She had been stunned by the sudden turnaround from Ayami, and her crotch had been hammered to the point that it felt like it was on fire. The American wrestler tried to back up a short distance, to take a breath and to recover enough to put up a viable defense against her enemy. But Ayami was too quick, chased her down, and tried to deliver a knockout blow.

The haymaker smashed into Phoebe’s cheek hard, and the cowgirl’s body went spinning around, almost hard enough to pop it right off of her shoulders. Phoebe screamed and almost lost her balance, but managed to stumble backwards away from Ayami until she found the ropes. She grabbed onto them and put her weight on them, panting heavily, her mouth hanging open as she draped herself over the perimeter of the ring. “Fuck…fuck…”

"Yeah, that's what you are, you little redneck shit: fucked."

She could end this here, she thought. She could end this right here and right now. Fire off another hit so hard, so concussive, that her inbred grandma back in Texas would fall into a coma. She followed the winding path that Phoebe had stumbled back on, pulled back her arm. Same spot, same hit. The first had staggered her into uselessness.

She was very much hoping the second one would break her forever.

The haymaker came again. And if this time, she smacked her so hard that the redneck fell between the ropes and out of the ring? Well, that was just a juicy bonus.

“Fuck you, you cunt!” Phoebe would spit over her shoulder at Ayami, as the Japanese girl taunted her. Phoebe had lost control of this match very quickly, and her neck and crotch both hurt terribly right now, but she was going to turn the tide just as Ayami had and regain control over her bitch of an opponent.

Phoebe turned around to face Ayami as the girl charged at her again with another haymaker. Phoebe knew she couldn’t let this one hit her. She would lean back against the ropes, then reach up with both hands to grab Ayami’s fist as it flew right at her face. She would grit her teeth as she was barely able to stop the punch. Her palms stung. As soon as she could, though, Phoebe would try to start punishing Ayami. She would ball one hand to a fist and bring it down hard, like a hammer, on Ayami’s forearm, as if trying to punish the limb for being the part of Ayami’s body doing the punching.

“Fucking die, bitch!” Phoebe would scream, before winding up and throwing a hard hook at Ayami’s face.

Ayami's eyes widened in surprise the moment Phoebe made her move. Her fist was trapped, and she tried to shakily move it forward to finish off Phoebe, but it would barely budge. Then the redneck struck her forearm. There was a flash of searing pain and Ayami was screaming. Phoebe had struck a joint, and it smarted as hell. In vengeful retaliation, she curled up her remaining hand and sent a powerful jab right into Phoebe's chest.

She would never really know whether she managed to hit her or not. Because at the same time, Phoebe's hook smacking hard into her face. She smelled blood, and for a moment, she saw only blackness before her vision returned. She stumbled backwards a little, crumpled to her knees and fell forward a little, her elbows the only thing supporting her from a full collaspe. The count started, but at the moment, she just didn't care.

Phoebe would grab onto Ayami’s arm and angrily bring her fist down on her foe’s forearm, as hard as she possibly could. She was rewarded when Ayami shrieked, and she knew that she had really hurt the Japanese fighter. That was what she got for trying to fuck with Phoebe. The cowgirl was so far out of her foe’s league that it wasn’t funny.

Ayami got a little revenge with a hard punch right to Phoebe’s chest, one that forced the American to fall back against the ropes again, clutching at her wounded tits. “Fucking whore…” she would growl, as she sent a powerful right hook right into Ayami’s face. To her delight, the Japanese girl crumpled like a ragdoll, falling to her knees. Phoebe grinned. The count began. She had to resist the urge to kick Ayami right in her ugly face.

“That’s right,” Phoebe said, gathering another glob of saliva and spitting on her fallen foe.

But that glob of saliva made her care. The little disgusting splatter splashed onto her forehead and her finch, trickling down her nose and cheeks. She looked up with a glare of sheer, unadulterated hate, and she knew then what she was gonna do -no- what she would do when she won: she was gonna slide those jeans down and fuck her. She was gonna ride her until she cried and begged and squeal. She was gonna ride her until she screamed every apology, declared Ayami the goddess of a thousand faiths and one, and worshiped her like the smug ant that the redneck was.

Ayami bided her time, holding the death gaze for the first 8 counts before getting up. Using every single ounce of what little time she had to recover. Her left hand was hurt, thankfully unbroken, but when she tested it out it wasn't punching that well. She felt so cold now, colder than she had ever been, and as she raised her guard up again, she knew, clearer than ever, what she had to do.

When the bell rang again, she came in slowly, throwing the one-two jab combination, then leaning back, then coming in again, hoping to lure her opponent in.

Phoebe wasn’t afraid of Ayami, and the deathly serious stare which the Japanese girl locked onto her didn’t faze her. Phoebe would stare back, challenging her foe to get up and try to fight her some more. Whatever Ayami tried, Phoebe was going to make sure that the result was the same, every single time. Ayami might land some blows, rock Phoebe back on her heels, but in the end the American girl was not going to lose a match like this. No way in hell.

Ayami got up after an eight-count, and Phoebe smirked as she put her fists up again and readied herself for the fight to resume. The Japanese girl had only barely beaten the count, and a few more hard punches right to that thick skull of hers should send her down for good.

Ayami came in throwing a quick jab combination, and Phoebe would let the punches smack against the backs of her hands. That stung, but it didn’t do much damage at all. The cowgirl didn’t know what Ayami was planning to try to do, but if that was the best she could muster, then this was going to be easy. As Ayami leaned back, Phoebe would lurch forward, throwing a quick left jab at Ayami’s face, then following it up with a right hook that was aimed right for the Japanese girl’s breast.