Three victims tonight, though more waited on Shizuka’s autumnal horizon than she predicted. A fight unlike any the Silent Queen had faced.
The first girl to come at her didn’t last through a third round. She was bold as the black of her tresses. “I will not give up!” she proclaimed. Shizuka looked around at that, wondering precisely whom the girl was addressing. An opening bell later, she proceeded to batter the cheer and confidence right out of the little brawler. The couple bombing hooks that got through and tagged Shizuka’s body, hurt her as much as a heavy bag might be hurt. She came back with flurries that jackhammered squeaking grunts and low moans from the helpless young woman. With a final wrecking salvo of crimson straights, bouncing her opponent around the ring like a cue ball, Shizuka crumpled the bloodied girl on her back. Defeat was set deep in her sad blue eyes. Less injury and more the pain of being so thoroughly dominated. Shizuka struck up her glove for that victory.
The second girl – or woman, rather – was eye-poppingly endowed, which is to say her bust was egregiously ample enough to coerce a slight quirk from Shizuka’s brow. She too, a glowing sapphire eastern European of cheer and braided blue, played to the crowd, but it seemed a front. Meeting in the center ring, Shizuka recognized an undercurrent of fear and doubt. To her credit, it dissuaded the busty little boxer none. Earnest determination on her pouting face overwrought her fear, but it didn’t keep her on her feet. Shooting out her corner as a periwinkle blur crashed her right into a one punch knockout. Five punches in all, but after the first, Shizuka cooled her jets and let her hands come to rest as the bosomy blue boxer swayed there drunkenly in the aftermath, a cut on her cheek given time to bleed, then topple onto her back with a tumultuous jiggle of her assets. She didn’t move afterward. Shizuka hoped for more, but didn’t let on.
The third girl stubbornly slogged through four whole rounds with the blood crimson boxer. It cost the neon purple ponytailed pugilist in blood, which Shizuka took without malice or significant effort. The Byzantine Beauty’s punches landed severely, but were easily evaded and her white boots were filled with concrete. Shizuka employed her reach and looped around her with ease, though it didn’t harm the slugger’s balance, because she hardly moved. It was like carving a block of marble into the image of a wrecked foxy boxer. After about round three, her opponent’s whole voluptuous body was blotched and slathered in her own blood, but she tenaciously soldiered on like a charred, bullet-riddled tank, shooting off her ill-aimed artillery, which Shizuka stoically countered with crosses and well placed hooks that plunged into her opponent’s voluptuous form. Despite the beating, the girl remained almost as stoic as Shizuka, except for the anger. That came through before the tank was finally decommissioned.
As a rocky shore before a typhoon, the stunning japanese boxer let the cheers of adoration fuss and sputter and erode her stoic visage none.
Shizuka looked at the imaginary watch on her wrist out of habit, realizing how long it had been since her last victim had been still on the canvas. Minutes, if she had to guess. With a sigh, she accepted the nights lackluster cardio for what it was, plucked her white silk robe from the turnbuckle to cover her damp skin from the chill, and put her foot through the ropes.
A hand grasped her black boot. A rough hand, attached to a shady character in a thriftstore-grade suit jacket. Two more shadows dressed in dark jackets and loose ties came into the ring and carted off the purple ponytailed pugilist on a freshly blood-dotted white canvas stretcher.
Shizuka said nothing, but glared down at the obstructive individual, glared like Damocles steel against a red sky. The softly proportioned man swallowed and averted his eyes, frightened and surprised. Up to that fear-choked moment, he’d known only one other woman (human, even!) who could produce such a hackle-bristling look. Calmly blazing formidable wrath hanging serene like two comets in a clear sky.
“Bored already,” approached a dark feminine voice. The man almost went physically bald with fear when the slender hand attached to that voice gripped his shoulder. He dropped Shizuka’s boot and hoped he could escape without having his collar bone snapped.
Shizuka, acutely aware of the man’s intensified apprehension, calmly placed her boot back down and, robe hanging half open over her exposed chest, drew her attention to the smartly dressed businesswoman below near the apron.
“I’d hate to see you escape...” The woman ahemed. “...leave
without getting a proper thrashing.” Her hand squeezed and there was a popping of joints. “I mean workout.”
Shizuka’s eyes narrowed. “It doesn’t sound like you have a handle on your tongue. Perhaps you should think a bit before you say something you’ll regret.”
Smirking, the woman shoved her captive reeling away, and stepped up onto the apron. Only the ropes and empty centimeters separated Shizuka from the woman in black, who opened her gleaming green eyes and looked down at the japanese boxer. Intrigue was like a perfume from the dark woman. Her plum orange aroma clashed with Shizuka’s proud sweaty scent. The air was already ionized.
Crossing her arms, Wenda Maddox asked of the undefeated boxer before her, “Who needs words?”
“Striking while I’m weakened,” Shizuka said, noting the challenge in her opponent’s posture. “How underhanded.”
“You aren’t in the least bit tired from disposing of that trash,” Maddox retorted amusedly. “But if you insist on principle…”
She waved a man over, whispered a command and he was off like a shot. Maddox was a picture of glee. Shizuka, stone faced, blinked.
Flimsy knees knocked in blue satin shorts. Pink boots staggered randomly back, scrambling to support the senseless body above them up. All Timea could do now was stand, and it had been that way since the end of the first round. Now halfway through the third, her dusky dominator had taken it slow waiting while the Hungarian blonde curled up her pink gloves and shored up her guard only to have the foundation ripped from beneath it. Over her half out mouthpiece, slathered in blood, she coughed a cloud of bloody spit. “Urnf!” Again a sudden hook aggravated her cracked rib. Both arms dropped to “defend,” but she couldn’t even fool herself into thinking that anymore. It was just her body collapsing.
Atrocious hooks racked her limp neck and crushed her swollen face to and fro, scattering curls of scarlet from turnbuckle to turnbuckle and across Maddox’s chest. Her one good eye screamed the pain her swollen broken mouth couldn’t, the green pupil a quivering dot in her head. Lean arms hurtling sovereign purple weapons arched and cracked against the blonde’s defenseless jaw. Combinations broke her apart with blood and tears, but the extreme dynamism kept her standing, if only because of the ropes straining against her back. One brief pause allowed air to enter the atmosphere around the vacuum created by the Welsh amazon’s tumult. Timea sucked a single breath past her hanging mouthpiece then gagged. Fluids burst from her face as a galloping straight haymaker punched the plastic shield down her throat and shattered her mouth.
Maddox watched the lights go out from her opponent’s eyes with relish as the blood sputtering woman bobbled back to a limp upright. “And that is…”
As Timea noodled down to rest on the bottom rope, Maddox placed her boot on the obliterated girl’s bare chest, right between her relatively
untouched breasts, and pushed her through the ropes. Timea’s unconscious body rolled over the apron and thumped into a ragdoll heap on the warehouse floor. Trash to be collected. At least the redheaded Iraqi maid had drunkenly volunteered to clean up after herself before being cudgeled to Maddox’s boots. Even Maddox’s prior opponent, that diamond blue-eyed brunette, when slumping down Maddox’s perspirous cleavage, utterly annihilated in every wet and wicked way, had the candor to kiss her dominator for taking the trouble. There was more fun to be had with that one.
“…three. Three nobodies a piece,” Maddox stated as though reading it off a clipboard. Cheers for her violence far outstretched Shizuka’s impassive deconstructions. The Japanese woman was fine with not being acclaimed for her brutality, but to be second to someone, much less so audibly, filled her with a strange tension. Shizuka was second to no one, despite what the crowd dictated. What did they matter? Who were they to judge superiority? That is what single combat is for. She never even considered that tension as a marker for fear, fear that their collective cries might be right.
Coming over to the ropes, Maddox said down to Shizuka, “Now that we’re both warmed up…” she extended her glove, flexing her arm, her whole arsenal of delicately packed muscles even, and gestured her crimson opponent forward, “…let’s start the main event.”
Somebody brought Maddox her least favorite white robe and deigned she take a quick breather. She slipped it over her arms and shoulders but was given pause by Shizuka’s sudden presence.
“Impatient, are we?” the Welsh gladiatrix smirked. “That’s fine. I hope that little rest was enough for you. I’d hate to destroy you while you’re weak...er.” She docked her breasts with Shizuka’s, their hard nipples like opposing magnets. “Oh… you feel ready.”
A frizzed sargasso of black tresses, red-tailed, bristled on her head as she worked her heart rate up again Shizuka growled back, “I’m always ready to put down a feral bitch.”
Maddox simply laughed outright. A maniacal glee. So many self-righteous girls bringing their pretty faces to be mashed under her fists. She’d need to schedule a bit more time between board meetings.
The bell began the dance, though the fighting ignored the common cue. Both boxers made no move to strike first, Shizuka in her perfect orthodox stance still sizing up her taller opponent. Two inches on her. A longer reach. But was it just for show? Maddox was in equal parts curious and savilly warry. Her arms hung low at her flanks and her back was straight, but her legs were primed to make the necessary maneuvers, whatever they might be in this churning storm.
Each stab at her cut was merciless. Half her face was smeared with blood. Most of the jabs were more like swipes, though they still felt like the business end of a blackjack. Another cross whizzed by, giving Shizuka ample time to weave left and plant another venomous hook to her smug opponent’s body. The sound of leather smacking rang out again. Then it was on her. A crushing hook whipped her head as a black left hook countered her body blow. She even tried to lean away as her head came around, but Maddox’s spindly arm managed the perfect extension to send the Silent Queen’s crimson tipped tresses scattering like blood-dipped needles.
One, two, three blistering body shots. Maddox kept her guard and bit down, almost through the purple plastic in her mouth, the impacts forcing her to suck up the penny taste. In the rhythm, predicting the alternate hand after a sequence from the opposite, the comported amazon dropped her left elbow into a crimson glove that wasn’t there. To her abject surprise she caught a glimpse of the straight right as it faked low before slamming into her eye socket. Her skull vibrated and her vision hazed for a second as she danced it off, watching as her opponent remained impassive, indifferent to even executing a well-played combination like that.
A huge hook careened through the air and over Shizuka’s crown of flustered locks. Maddox had little time to prepare her abs as the counter upper-hook stabbed into them, caving her belly. Her feet dug in, already positioned as she shifted her weight deftly and, the shock on her face switched to rage, launched her left. Shizuka had no time to lift her forehead from the top of Maddox’s breast and escape the violent uppercut as it splattered her nose askance. Her eyes glazed for a moment. The force pushed her upright and another hook jab combo crashed against her head before she could pull herself out of the swoon. “Wake up, you mute!” Maddox jeered madly as she pursued a staggered Shizuka. “You don’t get to sleep yet!”
Purple suffered under a barrage of red as Maddox tried to rope a dope her opponent. The scarlet tide poured over her, but did not ebb. Soon Maddox was on her toes almost leaning over the ropes to stay out of range. Her guard began to leak and acidic jabs burnt her face. A couple caustic breast blows knocked some wind from her. The experiment proved her opponent may have been a dope, but a dope with an unending reservoir of punishment to spill. Two body blows sank into Maddox’s sides, rattling her rib cage and pulling her down. With a keen snarl, she fought back, lobbing a couple angry hooks. Shizuka ducked both in succession, and kept bombarding Maddox’s taut belly. Bruising was becoming as deep as the purple of her shorts. “Grk... so you wanna brawl!” the English lady pugilist roared. As though her opponent had augured where she would next weave, Shizuka suffered two tremendous uppercuts flush on her chin. Maddox flashed her purple mouthpiece, then almost lost it when the glassy-eyed Jap dug her right glove deep into her stomach, then popped it back into her mouth with a short straight punch. The two women were so close that the full snap of their punches was smothered, but the sheer muscle and weight of each other’s bodies still thrust unbelievable ache into each other. Maddox returned the favor with an upperhook that smashed Shizuka off kilter, tipping right with her cheek - warped and, now, bleeding.
Silently, ever silently, she tore forward. Shizuka’s punches had slowed from crisp flurries to damning slugs. Maddox was ready to go on the offensive again, to make the last few seconds of the round hellish for the Silent Queen. For a couple seconds, Maddox had Shizuka intimately locked in her oppressive, sultry clutches. “Aaahhhmm,” Maddox moaned as their noses met, tits pancaked, and her thigh went up between Shizuka’s. Still the Silent Queen remained impassive to the advances “So cold,” Maddox teasingly cooed. Shizuka shoved her off, and she danced a bit behind her oscillating fists. A jab. Another. Shizuka took both to her head without moving. Suddenly a blur of demonic action trafficked between them. Punches everywhere. One jab of the flock flew in her direction, giving the crimson haired girl a chance to step in. Knocking the purple glove out of the way, Shizuka drove forth and shot a sharp jaw-bound cross. Maddox wasn't about to let her opponent get away with that, and shot a heavy uppercut at Shizuka’s stomach. Shizuka powered right through it, though, biting down on her mouthpiece and throwing another left heavy hook to the cheek. She missed and Maddox smiled, then her eyes bugged. A stray hook, a red glove like a two ton ruby smashed into her jaw and put her on the deck before the Welsh woman could catch up with what happened. She looked up and saw Shizuka still standing there.
“Not cold. You’re
not hot enough, Empress.”
Evading a vicious one-two by the filaments of her sable bangs, the Welsh fury drove her right straight into the bloodied right eye of her opponent. A wince was all that betrayed Shizuka’s duress, but Maddox caught it. An one-two-uppercut slipped, Maddox countered, flattening her opponent’s left tit. Shizuka’s teeth grit. Maddox smirked. Two more red comets streaked from the Japanese dynamo. The first missed narrowly. A jolt of pain snaked into the shafts of her lower ribs. The second cross was almost blind, missing by miles as Maddox leaned away in a whirring tangle of silken braids. In a passing paralyzed moment, Shizuka caught the bruised visage of her wraithlike opponent. She was still smirking: How’s this for hot?!
Insufferably cocky. The svelte japanese boxer reeled in her right to defend against the two jabs that nipped at her face. She took a step leftward. Her glove dropped a hair. A black streak consumed the vacancy, punishing Shizuka’s swollen eye yet again. Finally she let out a grunt of pain. It set Maddox off - a frenzied torrent of mad, smiling glee as she wedged in an uppercut, another hook, two left jabs, each perforating Shizuka’s guard and ripping into her crumbling visage. In a lull Shizuka glanced out and saw Maddox’s eye glint. A haymaker tore through Shizuka’s defense and snapped her head back so severly that the rest of her body followed all the way to the mat. Maddox was a cackling harpy over Shizuka, the stunned boxer not out, but gasping with amazement. For the first time in her life, she genuinely felt like she could lose.
It was bittersweet.
Both lusty, au fait paragon’s of pugilism rained with claret-laced sweat, their hairs matted, all liquid shine under the ring lights, bleeding out of numerous cuts – Shizuka’s cheek and Maddox’s brow. Fierce and constant jabs had sealed their right eyes shut, forcing both boxers to fight southy. They played with open crab defenses to hide their fatigue, right arms slackened, but still biting, striking like tireless cobras. Now in a clinch, vigorous short uppercuts pounded and ground away at kidneys, black bruises, welts, swollen immaculate breasts, shoving from the two beau ideals feral animal grunts. Maddox was ravenous with her infighting, baring her fangs and in constant smothered motion, but Shizuka’s punches were picked and stung like nails hammered between joints. Still, she tried to escape the bonebreaking knot of Maddox, pushing off and taking a venomous right hook to her slit cheek in the process. Maddox kissed at Shizuka, swaying with the ten glass dance of fifty-year vintage Boroughfield’s merlot.
Maddox charged, but balked. Her crimson opponent’s eyes daggered her and her sopping lithe body blurred. Maddox played her attempted charge off as a feint, but Shizuka knew better and, for the first time in the fight, a smile hinted on the bleeding corner of her mouth.
The bell rang. Both women refused to let their utter exhaustion show, standing throughout the entire round break, eyes fluttering with the fatigue and tenuous consciousness. Again, the bell rang, and both woman soldiered forward, but something interrupted their warpath. A lump they hadn’t even noticed until it was directly between them. They were too busy staring one another down to see an old woman, full figured with a white streak through her hair and clothed in a flat brown sweater, black skirt and pantyhose.
“Kunie, you senile biddy,” Maddox hissed, “you’ve wandered between me and my next victim. That es not where you want to be if you want to keep yer denturess.”
“You hear yourself lisping, Maddox?” Kunie said with an wrinkled Eastwood stare. “I’m thinking this is not where you should
be. And yes, that is my medical opinion.”
“Old woman,” Maddox grumbled through teeth grinding on the brink. “You will remove yourself from this situation or I will personally, ssummarily eject
Shizuka slurred a bit, though was quite clear in spite of the swelling. “Your shecurity appears to be lackluster if an old woman—“ Maddox, a ferocious hair trigger, nearly cold-cocked Shizuka’s bloodied face, but the husky elder was the one that cut her off, giving both women a start.
“Lackluster my great white ass!” Kunie snapped at Shizuka. She had to admit, even considering the stringent tutors she had had over the years, the svelte pugilist had never been yelled at quite like that before. At least not with that kind of mixed language. “Ever been clubbed by a man who could put his hand around your fucking head like tangerine? I’ve seen the bruising. You’ve never been bounced if you’ve not been bounced by our boys and girls.”
Maddox put her gloves on her hips and sneered like a smug child having been vindicated by a grown-up.
But then the scolding backfired: “You should be so lucky you can still smile without looking like an soggy jack-o-lantern, little miss plays with her food! You gonna walk in to meet the board looking like a shitty Lifetime special? Conference calls will only get you so far. Both of you are going to be bloody wrecks before either of your legs let you slump. I don’t need to be a doctor to know you both have worse concussions than a football player scrimmaging with a fucking bus.”
The cheering underground throng had been booing since the interruption began, but quickly the hundred onlookers waxed as mute as theatergoers, waiting to see what their Empress would do. The two boxers also, despite their ardent wills, found themselves doused like dunked cats.
“I’ve run out of gauze thanks to you two,” Kunie said, referring to her station filled with six bloodied boxing babes. “Stitches, too, but go ahead and punch each other apart for another round.” The elder smiled. “I’ll just reuse a couple on you two.”
The whole rapt room cringed.
“G... get out of here!” Maddox managed, finding herself uncharacteristically irresolute.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Kunie stated.
“Woman I will… where are you running off to?” Before Maddox could make good on her threats, she noticed her opponent making her way for the ropes.
Shizuka turned. “I won’t be harangued like this, fight around or assault an elder.”
“By all means, leave it to me,” Maddox said, a smirk creeping onto her fat cheek. “Unless of course, this is just an out for you.”
Shizuka’s eyes narrowed. “Tonight is over. Let it be tomorrow.”
Spitting her gumshield out in her glove, Maddox declared upon the bleeding stage of their toil. “I’ve got a pocket full of tomorrows but a fist full of tonight with your name on it!” She watched as Shizuka stepped her red boot on the low rope. “Go ahead and run away.”
“I needn’t spar with you anymore,” Shizuka stated calmly before a cough and a pain in her ribs. She spit out her mouthpiece. “I didn’t start this fight. I feel no obligation to finish it. In any case, be patient. Let my superiority be a season as sure as your winter. Until then, dream of discontent. Please.”
Maddox blinked over a cheshire grin. “I’d finger snap, beatnik bitch, but my boxing gloves make it so very hard.”
“This isn’t over,” Shizuka intoned as she retrieved her robe from a waiting, trembling hand and, in spite of the bruising, she casually stepped down through the ropes.
As Shizuka made her way through the disappointed crowd, the old woman Kunie announced: “Show’s over, boys and girls! Go home and dream up a happier ending if you like!”
A grisly smile painted between her lips, Maddox turned over in her head those last words Shizuka had left. “No, it’s not.”
And here it is, for everyone who's been aching to see how these two would do in the ring against each other :3 The amazing story was written by my friend
while the breath-taking picture was done by the incredible
I hope you'll enjoy both the reading and the image!
Shizuka Takahashi by
Wenda Maddox by