Predator and Prey

I'm an independent woman who had a bad childhood. My Mom didn't handle my dad's death very well. First she turned to drugs and then to a boyfriend who controlled and exploited her. When I got a little older he exploited us both, if you know what I mean. By that time Mom was so far gone that I don't think she even noticed. I learned from my Mom's weakness and decided to become a Predator, not a victim.

On my tenth birthday, the bikers introduced me to mud wrestling in a pit dug out on a nearby ranch during one of their drunken parties. I beat another biker's petite 15 year old runaway girlfriend in that match. After that they introduced me to many other types of combat from nude boxing and kickboxing to topless ring wrestling – even some sex fighting.

They teamed me up with my Mother for some matches, but she wasn't much help. She'd never learned how to fight (or stand up for herself) and the drugs weren't making things any better. I mostly had to either rescue her or fight at a handicap while she stayed in our corner. Worse, in her substance abuse haze she frequently ended up distracting the referee so our opponents could cheat without getting caught. The bikers loved it all and made a lot of money off of my fights. When I was 14 the bikers started renting me out for “session wrestling” which usually included sexual favors for both men and women. Of course, they never paid me more than $20 for a match. Even so, I managed to stash away over six thousand dollars without them knowing about it.

My Mom OD'd just after I turned 15. After that, one of the bikers claimed me as his girlfriend. With Mom gone, things got even worse. The bikers started to put me in more violent matches. I decided to get out before I got seriously hurt or killed, so at 16 I made my escape. I threw my clothes and other belongings in a duffel bag and small backpack and stashed them out of sight. I waited until he was a couple of hours into what looked to be an all-weekend drinking and drug binge, then told my “boyfriend” that I was going to town to buy a new wrestling outfit. I retrieved my belongings and went into town. I timed it perfectly. I was on the bus and away within minutes. I made several transportation and direction changes to avoid being traced. Then I caught a final bus to my destination, Texas .

I used the money I'd stashed to get set up in Texas and purchase a good fake ID that said I was 21. The name belonged to one of the other biker girls who had been killed by her “boyfriend” the previous year. I worked for two years in a topless “Gentlemen's Club” in Texas that also featured foxy kick boxing and oil wrestling. I made a lot of money at the club and frequently got hired for private matches and parties, but I never crossed the line into prostitution. I put on a great show, but all they got for their money was wrestling and a good look at my body. I don't put myself down for what the bikers made me do, but I'm on my own now so I'm responsible for my own actions. I worked 5-6 days a week and lived very simply to save my money. I avoided the substance abuse problems that plague many dancers and I avoided relationships with men, too. A man would have been dangerous since he might have found out that I was under-age and tried to control me. I had to be cautious. My predator skills weren't fully developed and I was potentially vulnerable. I lived with another dancer who was “Bi” so we took care of each others' needs. No real romance involved, just fun.

In those two years I finished my GED and put over $250,000 in the bank. Then a vice cop started hanging around and trying to squeeze me. He told me he was “sure” I was working underage and he was “checking it out”. He suggested that I could “make it all go away” if I split my earnings with him and became his mistress – yeah, right. The asshole was even married with a couple of kids. I don't generally have a problem with cops, but the crooked ones and those who use their badges to prey on women deserve to be castrated. Starting a war with the local police was not a good idea, though. I decided to leave and change identities again. On my way out of town I did leave him a couple of parting gifts. I took a few pics of him making out with women that I sent to his wife. Then I gave his department an anonymous tip about some payoffs he was taking. They didn't bust him for it, but his supervisors did insist that he start sharing the money. Between that and the divorce lawyer/settlement, it put a real crimp in his income. I figured it was the best I could do.

Next I moved to Las Vegas . Under my new name I went back to topless dancing. I even convinced the club to add oil wrestling shows to the existing stage dancing, girl on girl, and shower shows. I started college (business administration major) under my real name and kept putting money in the bank. After three years (I was now 21, although my ID said I was older), I formed and trained a group of girls from the club. We started doing wrestling shows for parties, trade shows, that sort of thing. I still kept away from prostitution; although I'm sure many of my girls had their own arrangements on the side. My bank account kept growing, but I was also gaining in experience and knowledge. My skills as a Predator were becoming very sharp. By the time I sold my house in Vegas, I was a millionaire (but only just barely).

At 24 I moved to Los Angeles . I had my degree, lots of money, and my Predator skills. I was ready to move to the next level and set myself up for life. I resumed using my real name and ID because the bikers were no longer a threat.

I learned early on not to expect someone else to save me. That only happens in movies and they're not real. If you want something you have to do whatever it takes to get it for yourself. My rules are to stay focused on your goals at all times and prepare yourself to take advantage of the opportunities life presents. I always have a fall-back plan and an escape plan. I won't ever be someone else's prey again. I've studied a lot of different subjects including Judo, fitness/physiology, philosophy, dance, finance, computers, modeling & beauty techniques, parts of the law, art, even erotic literature. I want to have job skills that are quickly transferable to new locations in case I have to move so I'm a certified personal trainer, physiotherapy massage artist, and a capable webmaster. If I had to I could go back to dancing, although I want to keep that door closed forever. The business eats at your self-confidence if you stay in it too long. It got me money when I was desperate and underage and provided my stake to get started in Vegas and later LA. That's enough for me.

Enough about the early chapters of my life…I've moved on and I take care of myself now. No one will ever treat me like that again. Now you know how I became what I am today The Ultimate Predator.

I've had a few jobs that I wasn't proud of, but I've always stayed focused on my goals. I've played both sides of the street sexually, but prefer men for relationships. I'm living near Hollywood , now (no I won't tell you exactly where – too many stalkers around). This town is perfect for my needs. Lots of money and power coupled with an obsession for youth, beauty, and sex. Just the kind of place I need to reach my goals. I bought myself a nice little condo, got a job as an instructor & personal trainer at a fitness studio, and started to check out the Hollywood scene.

I work out religiously and have a VERY fit body. I was blessed with long, dark hair, good skin, and a pretty face. I also got reasonable size breasts (large C / small D for those that must know). I haven't resorted to plastic surgery because I don't need it to reach my goals.

That night I was on a first date with a man. I had been playing the “party girl / aspiring starlet” role for a few months learning the town, meeting people, and getting into position to reach my goals. My date had a reputation for being good in bed, which can be useful at times, but he was also known to change girlfriends frequently. No one had been able to keep his interest for very long.

We were headed to the ‘Bow on Sunset for a few drinks. I was dressed to knock everyone's eyes out (as always when I'm out on the town). I work hard in the gym for my body and despite my party girl role I go light on the alcohol and drugs. They don't help me get to my goals.

My dress was a gorgeous little black number, one of my favorites. It is REALLY short with a very low back and two little spaghetti straps that come up from the front, cross in the back, and hook to the sides of the dress. The front shows plenty of cleavage, and there's a diamond shape cutout that shows off my very toned and flat belly. To complete the look the lower portion is cut with an open area on the side of the leg. The back and front are held together by a couple of small black lycra strips. The only things I wear with the dress are a black lycra satin string thong (very tiny) and some understated jewelry (I want them looking at my body, not the jewelry). The ensemble shows my body off to maximum advantage.

At the club my date and I met another couple. He was a successful player in the studio business, wealthy and capable of making or breaking careers of aspiring actresses. He was about 50, balding, flabby, hairy, and relatively dull. Because of his job and money, he didn't lack for women, though. He always kept at least one mistress (sometimes two) tucked away nearby. He also had a steady supply of casual affairs, mostly with gullible young girls who believed blowing him was their ticket to stardom. He played the casting couch game relentlessly. What he didn't know yet was that he was going to be my ticket to everything I want in life.

The other key to my plan was his wife, Rianna. You know the type. 15 years younger than her husband, but realizing that age is catching up with her. Desperately using plastic surgery, personal trainers, spa treatments, and anti-aging crèmes to try and avoid being traded in on a younger model. Knowing of her husband's affairs and mistresses, but pretending not to know. Living in fear that someday it will all be gone and she'll have nothing to fall back on. Too weak to change the circumstances of her life so she's doomed to fail.

As usual I was getting lots of attention from the guys in the place. I kept focused on my goals though. The studio Troll couldn't keep his eyes off my cleavage (I'd heard he was a boob man). His wife was getting pretty steamed about his obvious staring and flirting. I kept my responses non-committal while staying close to my date, but I made sure he kept looking. He found a few excuses to bump up against me or touch me, which was annoying his wife. I made sure my date was enjoying himself. So far, so good.

When the night started to wind down, the troll invited us back to their place in the Hollywood Hills. I think my date was bored with the troll and his wife and would have begged off, but I managed to convince him. When we got to their place the husband was openly coming on to me. I kept him at arms length, but I could see his wife was furious. While I was sitting on my date's lap I made sure to position my legs so the Troll could look up my dress. That and a couple of flirty glances and smiles were enough to convince him I had the hots for his repugnant body. What an idiot.

When Rianna was alone with me in the kitchen, I made sure to pour a little gasoline on the fire, “You're husband is really funny” and such. Yeah, I can lie real good when it works for me. I could see Rianna's blood was boiling.

It didn't take much to push her over the edge. Rianna followed me into the living room to continue the argument. I played innocent and implied she'd had too much to drink and should relax. Her husband agreed with me which only infuriated her all the more. She slapped me. It wasn't very hard, but it was what I had been waiting for. I wanted to just punch her lights out right there, but that wouldn't have served my goals. A hair pulling catfight might have done the trick, but I don't deal in “might”. I stayed focused on my goals. I said, “You should be more careful who you slap. I might just decide to humiliate you in front of your husband by kicking your ass.”

Rianna was about an inch taller than I am, and about 40 pounds heavier despite regular liposuction. She didn't carry herself like a trained martial artist and I doubted such a priss would have much fighting experience of any kind. Fake DD boobs aren't a threat in a fight and I was confident my fitness, experience, and Judo skills would overcome the weight disadvantage. All I had to do was stay focused on my goals.

Rianna was too pissed and too stupid to rationally assess the situation (okay, and she was a little drunk, too). She kept pushing and told me she would “kick my slut ass” if I wanted to take her on. Still playing my role, I said “I don't have a swimsuit to wear. If I had something to wear I'd take you up on that. Maybe we could meet some other time?” Rianna thought I was backing down out of weakness. She continued to press for the fight. I didn't want to seem too eager, so I made her work for it. She continued to walk right into my trap.

Rianna spit her next words out like a snake spitting venom, “You don't seem to mind flashing half of Hollywood , why stop now, slut?” Time for me to turn up the heat a bit, “Okay, you're on, let's go.”

Rianna smiled and said “Let me go change, I'll be right back.” She still didn't realize that she was walking into my trap. Her husband looked like he was about to hyperventilate. My date was hard to read, but he wasn't walking out. The men cleared away some furniture to give us plenty of room. The carpet felt soft, but I could see the possibility of some nasty rug burns. Oh well, attaining goals often involves sacrifice.

I deliberately left my dress on until Rianna returned. She was wearing a conservative bikini to help hide the extra pounds. You know, one of those with the control top bottoms to help hide the bulge of her belly and the spreading derriere? As she returned to the room she almost preened for the men trying to draw their attention. I let her have about 5 seconds of attention, then I unhooked the straps on my dress, let it drop to the floor, and stepped out of it. Both men forgot about her and stared at my magnificent body. After giving them a few seconds to take it all in, arched my back in a big stretch, then kicked off both of my heels. That left me standing there in just the really brief black lycra satin thong panties. They were perfect for the occasion, even if they were a bit low cut in the front and flimsy. I had never looked better. Everything was going according to plan.

I think Rianna might have realized she was in for some trouble. She apparently decided to stack the deck a bit in her favor. “Okay, slut, here are the house rules for fights”

Yeah right, if this house had ever seen a fight it was probably over the remote. Who was she kidding?

Some of the rules caused me to think some unkind thoughts, though. She probably called a friend on her cell phone to get some advice while she was changing. I can't believe she thought this up on her own. She was clearly out to make it hard for me to win.

“The rules are:

“First one to make her opponent submit twice wins” (that would be me, Bitch)
“No hair pulling, biting, eye gouging, or twisting fingers and toes” (fine by me)
“No choking” (hmmm, wonder if she knows I've had Judo training?)
“Squeezing breasts and crotches is legal” (I doubt if she's ever had that done to her – I have and it hurts. Oh well, I knew I'd have to work for this)
“No fingers or hands inside your opponent's panties” (she seems to have a one track mind about sex-fighting, but it works for my purposes)
“No deliberate tearing off of your opponent's outfit” (okay, I wouldn't want to blind the men by stripping her anyway. I'm already half way there and my panties probably won't last the entire match but its all good.)
“Strikes to the belly are legal” (she's in real trouble when I start punching that jelly belly of hers)
“No strikes to the breast or crotch, defined as the area covered by the bikini top and the area covered by the front and crotch of the panties.” (WHAT?)

“Wait a minute,” I said, “That last one isn't fair. I'm not wearing a top and your bikini bottom covers halfway up your abs.”

“That's your problem, slut girl. If you didn't dress like a whore, it wouldn't be a problem.” Rianna replied. “My house, my rules unless you want to chicken out and leave”

I pretended to think it over. The rules were going to give her a real advantage. I wasn't particularly looking forward to letting her take free shots at my boobies when I couldn't strike back. The restriction on striking to anywhere covered by her bikini bottom was probably an even greater disadvantage. It meant half of her jelly belly was going to be off-limits. Meanwhile, the waistband on my panties was so low, that she could basically use low blows “legally”. I'd have to really use my grappling skills to equalize it all.

In the end, none of it was really important. The important thing was to stay focused on my goals.

“Okay” I said. “You still won't stop me from kicking your ass.”

First Fall

Rianna came out slow, a little tentative. I didn't. I set out to get control and demonstrate my superior grappling skills. No problem with this goal. As I suspected, she had no real skills and didn't no what to do.

I shot her legs and dumped her on her ample ass before she really knew what had happened. I wrapped a head scissors on her but she complained I was choking so I released it. I went straight into a wrist lock, putting just enough pressure on to make it hurt. Rianna gave a small cry of pain as I applied pressure. I could probably have forced it for a submission right then, but that wouldn't have helped me reach my goals.

I brought her to her feet and dropped her again with an arm drag, going straight into a hammerlock. She ended up face down on the carpet with me on her back. I didn't let her stay there long. I folded her hand back to add a wristlock to the hammerlock. She let out another cry of pain as I worked on her joints.

I kept pushing the pace, transitioning to new holds. Once I knew both of her arms had to be hurting, I started working on her legs. She struggled futilely but I think she realized it was hopeless. Her lack of fitness started to show up, too, as she was breathing very hard. I was covered in a nice sheen of sweat that made my gorgeous body glisten, but I wasn't even close to being tired. As I continued to work on her, I made sure to hit some nice, sexy poses for the two men watching. Every time I sensed she might be getting close to submission I backed off on the pain and transitioned to a new hold. Got to keep one's goals in mind at all times, of course.

She only got one actual offensive move in. While I was transitioning between two holds, she grabbed my crotch and started squeezing for all she was worth. It hurt, but not bad enough to stop me. I broke free, but decided I needed to encourage her not to do that again. I stood up, stepped on her left thigh to pin it to the floor, then grabbed her right leg in both arms. I sat down and backwards, yanking her legs into a major leg split. She was NOT a flexible person. She let out a brief scream of agony and rolled over with both hands protecting her injured groin muscles.

Now it was time to finish her. I stood her up and executed three flawless Tomodachi stomach throws. Three times she sailed over me and landed heavily on her back. Her wind was knocked out of her and I knew her back was hurting. Before applying the final submission hold I decided to give the men something to look at. I rolled Rianna into a single leg crab, causing her to cry out in pain as her injured leg was bent backwards. When I also applied a crotch claw with my free hand, she let out a deep, pain filled groan. I had positioned myself so that the Troll would be looking at his wife's agonized face (or more probably looking at my really cute butt). My date got to see me dig my fingers into her crotch. I made sure not to put too much pressure on so she wouldn't submit. I could feel the last of the fight go out of her. She was ripe for finishing.

I let go and she was facedown on the floor. I folded her left leg over behind her right knee. Then I picked the right leg up and tucked it under my left armpit. My right knee went into Rianna's back to provide a fulcrum to bend her body with. So far it wasn't much more than a modified Scorpion hold from pro wrestling. Now I reached my right hand back, curled it under her chin and pulled back to further arch her back. Someone has probably used that hold before and given it an official name, but I look better doing it.

Rianna gasped, “I GIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE.”

Triumphantly, I let her go. I really enjoy defeating other women. She lay on the floor unmoving. I felt a moment of sympathy for her, but then I remembered my goals. She was merely a part of my plan.

I walked over and sat on my date's lap. He was clearly enjoying the match and I could feel his enormous erection as I sat on his lap. While Rianna crawled painfully back to her husband, I put on a little show making out with my date. The Troll was very aroused and taking it all in. Rianna was sweating and breathing hard. I'd left her with a series of minor joint and muscle injuries. She was going to wake up in pain tomorrow.

Rianna was trying to look confident as the rest period ended. The Troll whispered something in her ear and she nodded.

Second Fall

As we met in the center of the floor, Rianna tried to go for a side headlock. I evaded that easily and moved in to apply a bear hug on her injured back.

Surprising me, Rianna reached up with her left hand and grabbed my left breast. She then used her right hand and delivered several sharp punches into my breast. The pain was intense. The bitch was doing it nearly perfectly, using her claw hold to lift the breast up and in, exposing one of the most sensitive spots to her punches.

As we broke apart, I knew the match was about to get more brutal. It was all good, revving up the intensity could only help me achieve my goals. My boob HURT, though, and that is not fun.

“How does your titty feel, Bitch?”

“About like yours will, soon”

Rianna chuckled, “Just remember, house rules – no striking me in my bikini top”

I replied “It won't matter once I crush your fake boobies and explode the silicon bags”

Rianna laughed again “They're saline, not silicone, bimbo”

As we locked up again, both of us grabbed holds on each other's breasts and squeezed. It was a test of will as we both applied pressure. I'm pretty sure I would have won, except she released one hand from my breast and started punching me in that boob instead. Let me tell you, it isn't much fun having someone beat on your boobs. Pain doesn't bother me too much. I've even learned to enjoy some kinds of pain like the dull ache in my crotch after the major pain of a low blow subsides. But there is just no getting used to or enjoying getting hit in the boobies, especially by someone who knows how to do it right.

We continued to struggle, but now I was taking a lot more abuse than I was dishing out. We ended up on the floor, but my boobs were really starting to hurt as she continued to punch them. My claw holds just weren't doing enough damage to equalize things. I caught some glimpses of the two men and both were clearly enjoying the action.

I tried to shift the action away from breast fighting. No such luck. No matter what I did she kept hammering away. She even got in a couple of knees and kicks to go with the punches and elbows. The occasional squeeze or nipple twist was almost unnoticeable amidst all the pain from her blows. She started to learn as the fall progressed, using control holds to restrain me while continuing to pound on my breasts. All I could think was “Got to stay focused on my goals despite the pain”, but my breasts were on fire.

Somewhere this bitch really learned how to punish a pair of breasts. It seemed like the more she hurt me, the more her strength and confidence increased. I was definitely getting beat here. At least the Troll was enjoying himself. He'd started to rub his own crotch.

Rianna ended up on top of me straddling my body. She had both my arms pinned at my sides using her knees. “Here it comes, bitch”. She delivered a series of punches to my boobs. Once again she started with her tactic of holding the boob to expose the most sensitive parts to her punches. Towards the end of the barrage, though, she was just taking out her anger by pounding away without worrying about maximizing my pain. It didn't matter by then…I was hurting badly. She eventually got tired (or got bored, who knows?).

She now started a brutal boob squeezing session. The pain was intense after the beating they'd already taken. I thought about submitting, but a quick glimpse around at the two men showed I was making progress towards my goal so I kept fighting. More accurately, I kept suffering since there wasn't much resistance I could offer. The fat cow's weight had my arms and body securely pinned while she squeezed away on my boobs.

Finally she picked me up by my breasts (OUCH!) and pushed me up against the wall. She kicked my feet apart while still squeezing both boobs. WHAAAAAM! She delivered a knee lift to my abs barely above the panty line. I gasped in pain. Okay, maybe it was more like a cry of pain. Grinning, she said “Here it comes, slut”. The slut comments were really starting to bug me. She proceeded to deliver 15 or 20 knees just like the first one. Okay, not JUST like the first one. Several of them were squarely on my tiny panties, making them an “illegal” low blow under her “house rules”. I didn't bother to complain. My panties were so low cut that even the “legal” knees above the panty line were actually low blows. The pain wasn't much worse and I learned a long time ago not to complain about the things I have to do to reach my goals.

I would have slumped to the floor if she hadn't been holding me up by the boobs. She solved that problem for me by executing a move I can only describe as “The Titty Toss”. She shifted her grip on my breasts and executed what amounted to a flying mare by the boobs. The impact with the floor wasn't too bad since I used my Judo skills to land properly. However, it isn't a lot of fun to get thrown across the room by your boobs, especially when they're already hurting.

“AAAHHHHHHH!” I cried out as the bitch stomped on my injured breasts. Then she picked me up (by the boobs again – what a one track mind) and repeated the Titty Toss followed by more breast stomps. As she picked me up yet again by the boobs, I thought “This cow has no imagination”. She delivered several more of the throw and stomp combinations before moving to the next hold. I was in bad shape. It takes a lot out of you when someone is continuously beating on your boobs.

I had to mentally apologize for the “No imagination” thought after this next move. She helped me to my feet. I was a rubber-legged and weak. She used her left hand to get a good grip on the front of my panties. It was an illegal hold in the sense that her grip caused her fingers to be inside my panties. At least she wasn't digging them into anything. Now she used her right forearm to deliver a vicious smash to my boobs. I fell backwards.

RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIPPPP! I heard and felt my panties let go as I fell backwards. Looking up after I hit the ground, I saw Rianna triumphantly standing over me holding my panties in her hand. The thin string sides had both snapped. My date complained about her tearing off my panties, but the bitch claimed it was an “accident”.

I was now naked…and well on my way to achieving my goals. I hadn't planned on it hurting this much, but success was within my grasp. I decided to submit to her next hold. I'd made enough progress towards my goals and could use a rest period to recover before I destroyed her in the last fall.

Rianna grabbed my feet, lifted them up and spread them apart. Before I realized what was coming, she executed a knee drop to my crotch. A blinding, white hot flare of pain shot through my body as her heavy body drove her knee deep into my tender groin. For a few seconds I was unaware of my surroundings. Still conscious, I guess, but with no voluntary muscle control. My whole world was pain. I couldn't even get coherent enough to submit.

I think I remember hearing my date complain about the knee drop to my crotch. I didn't even need to hear Rianna's response of “I didn't break the rules because she's not wearing any panties right now.” Nice to know my date was sticking up for me, anyway, but I already knew this wouldn't be a fair fight once I heard her rules in the beginning.

Meanwhile Rianna's knee was still planted firmly on my crotch as she used her considerable body weight to grind it into me. She also reached down and clamped both hands onto the most sensitive (and battered by her fists) spots on my breasts. She even pulled on my breasts while squeezing, lifting my shoulders up off the floor. It took a minute or two for me to get my wits together enough to say “I submit.” She wasn't exactly a gracious winner, bouncing her weight on my crotch one more time before getting off of me. I curled up in pain.

Rianna went to her corner to rest, looking very confident. She called out to me, “Had enough, Slut Girl?”

I replied “You're still able to walk and fuck so I'm not done yet.” Probably not the brightest response I could have given. I don't know why I said it. At the time I must have thought she needed more incentive to hurt me or something. Nudity doesn't really bother me so ripping off my panties was no big deal. Dropping that hippo knee onto my naked cootch was totally uncalled for, though. When I realized my anger was making me lose sight of my goals, I reminded myself that she was only a means to a goal. She was just a tiny part of a large plan, important only as a prop. I still wanted to crush, humiliate, and dominate her for what she'd done, but at least I had it under control.

My date helped me to my corner and gently placed me into the arm chair to rest. Nice to know he cares. He even retrieved my torn panties from where they were lying on the floor. I put them on and did my best to try and tie the string sides back together. Of course, I made sure to have him help me put them on and tie them. I've got to stay focused on my goals despite the pain. I was pretty sure the repaired panties weren't going to last all the way through the third fall even if the bitch didn't try and rip them off of me again. At least she wouldn't be able to take free shots at my crotch for as long as they lasted.

My date was looking very concerned for my welfare. He was also quite visibly aroused by the fight. He asked, “You're in bad shape and she's bending her ‘rules' to give her too many advantages. Are you sure you want to keep going?” I assured him that I wanted to continue.

Third Fall

Rianna came out strong. I tried to look like I had recovered, but how do you look strong when you can barely walk. My crotch was still throbbing from her knee drop and grind. Even the gentle bouncing of my boobies as I walked was painful after all the damage they'd taken in the second fall.

She didn't waste any time, delivering a right cross to my right boob. The intense pain stunned me briefly. She then tried a move that was way out of her league. She grabbed both my boobs and leaned back, placing a foot into my stomach. It was an attempt at monkey flipping me by my boobs. She'd probably never done one before and was just aping (pun intended) something she'd seen. She blew the move, losing control and dropping me off to one side. It still hurt like hell, though. I tried to roll away and made it up to all fours before she kicked me. The instep of her foot caught me flush on my left breast flattening it against my rib cage. The pain was intense and the impact flipped me onto my back.

She followed up with a stomp onto my belly. And then another stomp followed by a knee drop that knocked the wind out of me. She threw her leg over me into a straddle and began punching my abs. After a dozen or so punches thudded into my taut abs I think she realized she needed something more to do real damage.

I knew I was in trouble. As she was helping me up I reached over and dug my fingers into the crotch of her bikini bottom. She cried out in pain and dropped to her knees. Then she punched me in the left breast. It hurt, but I was determined. We were both on our knees facing each other. I had my crotch claw and had grabbed one of her boobs with my other hand. She applied the same two holds to me.

We were both working them for all we were worth. My hands were stronger so I could put more pressure on, but she had “softened up” both areas on me with her previous blows making me more vulnerable. Unfortunately for me, one of the repairs on my panties chose that moment to work loose (helped by the relentless clawing of her hand). She pulled her hand back to let them fall away. My momentary relief from the claw pain was replaced by the pain of her follow up punch to my now exposed groin. She landed a couple of more punches and then pushed me farther backwards. I let go of her as she delivered a series of punches to my exposed crotch.

She stood up and jumped forward into a seat drop on my abs. Bye-bye wind again. She stood up and continued stomping and kicking my mid-section relentlessly. No matter which way I moved or rolled, I couldn't get away from her. Even my highly toned abs weakened quickly under this onslaught. I'll give her credit, while the attack was repetitive it was also thorough as I got pounded from my solar plexus right down to the now non-existent panty line (and probably below it although it was all one big blur of pain at this point). She finished this part of her attack by lifting my legs up like a wheelbarrow (I was face down on the floor) and delivering a kick to my crotch. Then she walked backwards dragging me across the floor and making sure I‘d get a nice little rug burn on my boobs. Thanks, Bitch, I'll remember that one. You will pay.

She actually paused the attack and put my panties back on me “Cover yourself, Slut Girl. The show is almost over.”

I did my best to re-tie the side together. I desperately needed to keep her from beating on my crotch if I was to have any chance to recover and win. As I was finishing she jumped me, pulled me to my feet and pushed me to the wall. She delivered a long series of underarm gut buster punches to my traumatized abs. Then she started alternating forearm smashes to my boobs with knees just above the panty line.

By now I was clearly going to lose this fight, but I had to stay focused on my goals and make it look good. It wouldn't do to submit too easily.

Rianna let me loose and I staggered away to try and catch my breath. She followed me like a stalking animal. She periodically delivered a punch or kick to my abs (or occasionally my boobs – not sure if she just missed or did it deliberately) as I staggered around the room. I couldn't do much to stop her by this point. She kept up a barrage of verbal taunts while stalking me. Each time the pain caused me to sink to my knees she helped me up to continue her little game. Oh well, at least I had to be impressing the hell out of the two men with my ability to take all this abuse. The Troll was stroking himself for all he was worth.

Now she stepped behind me. Her left arm wrapped around me and grabbed my right breast. Her right arm wrapped around me and applied a crotch claw. She walked me around the room working the two claw holds for all she was worth while taunting me and displaying me like a trophy to the two men.

During this taunting and abuse my panties came loose again. Rianna wasn't quite so charitable this time, releasing her hold and delivering a knee lift to the crotch. My knees buckled and I collapsed to the floor. Rianna knelt down next to me and said, “When I'm done you won't feel like fucking anyone you little slut. Don't ever mess with my husband again.” My was she drunk with the power of her “victory.” I was closer than ever to my goals.

She then started a rather imaginative and varied series of low blows as I lay there on the floor. At least she was showing some imagination, mixing up knee drops, kicks, punches, chops, elbows…you name it she hit me with it. I think there were even some finger thrusts in there. She must have seen it on a martial arts movie. Good thing she was mixing it up, because it wouldn't do for the men to get bored at this point.

I was pretty much helpless with all my strength gone. She could have made me submit easily, but she just wanted to be mean. Oh, well, I'd done my best to provoke her all night. Now she was in a position to really do something about it. From the look of concern on my date's face I was virtually certain of achieving my goals for the night. Let Rianna have her one moment of mock triumph. In the end she'll still be my prey.

She finally spent herself in a last orgy of blows on my crotch and lower abs. I was all done, but she wasn't.

She brought her left hand in from behind me and applied a bowling ball hold (two fingers in my pussy and her thumb up my butt-hole). This wasn't enough to satisfy her so she brought her right hand around to my front and sank it into my crotch. As the fingers of her right hand penetrated me I thought “Oh, shit, she's going to claw up my insides.”

Fortunately, that wasn't what she had in mind. Instead she inadvertently helped me reach my goals. Her fingers quickly massaged my clit for a few seconds. Then she pinched it between two of her fingers and twisted it HARD. The pain was phenomenal. I wanted to submit immediately, but I held out ten to fifteen seconds while writhing in pain to make sure the boys got a good show.

“Okay, I GIVE, stop, I've had enough.” Rianna released me and I curled up into a ball of agony protecting my injured crotch.

“If I ever catch you flirting with my man again you won't get off so easy.” The terrified over-matched Rianna from the first fall had now totally disappeared. She now viewed herself as a bad-assed bitch who could trash the younger and prettier girls who threatened her position. My goals were in sight. It would take month or two before I would be recovered enough for a return match, but the hook was set. It was all a matter of time and focus.

My date came to me to see how badly I was hurt. I assured him that I would be alright. He helped me into my dress once the pain subsided enough that I could stand (with his help). I made sure to sell the agonizing effort that it cost me to stand up, and basically climbed his body like a ladder. I'm sure he enjoyed having a naked babe working her way up his body and then holding on to him while she put on her dress. I could have managed it all alone, but this way helped me reach my goals.

Rianna and the Troll headed off to their bedroom as my date picked me up and carried me to the door.

My date gently placed me into his car and fastened my seatbelt. He had a real look of concern on his face as he asked, “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

“No” I replied. “But can I stay at your place tonight? I think I'm going to be in bad shape in the morning.”

“Sure” he agreed.

As we were driving to his place I asked, “Are you disappointed that I lost?”

“No” he replied. “I was mostly concerned that you were going to get seriously hurt. Rianna's ‘house rules' were about as biased as she could arrange and then she even broke them. Given the way you dominated her in the first fall, the rules advantages were the only reason she won.”

“That guy is a class-A jerk, but I mostly pity his wife. Nobody should be treated the way he treats her. She shouldn't have insisted on such one-sided rules and then stretched even those, but I still pity her. Tomorrow he'll be right back with his stable of mistresses and the casting couch will still be in his office.”

I don't pity her – she should fix the problems in her life. Now wasn't the time to explain my Predator-Prey philosophy to him, though, so I replied, “When I first got to this town he tried that whole casting couch gig on me. We were at a party and he implied he could get me a role that would be my ticket to stardom if I'd give him a blowjob in one of the bedrooms. I turned him down with a ‘maybe later' kind of response. Since then I'm pretty sure he's made a few calls to keep me from serious consideration.”

He said, “This is a pretty screwed up town and a really screwed up business. It all comes down to Who You Know and Who You Blow. Lots of folks deny it in interviews after they become stars, but only the fools believe them. Those who are established have more independence, but getting that first break involves sucking up to someone and that generally means sex.”

I asked, “Once I recover would you be there with me if I can arrange a re-match with fair rules? I want to get even.”

“Sure, they both deserve it.” he replied.

Shortly after we got to his place I achieved one of my goals. He was every bit as well endowed and skilled as the other girls said. He was even quite gentle so it didn't hurt nearly as much as I expected after so severe a beating. I wouldn't have gone looking for sex when I was in so much pain, but this was all part of my plan. He HAD to be impressed that I still wanted to even though I was in so much pain.

To me, everyone is prey for I am the Ultimate Predator. Some, like my date are devoured in a friendly way. I like this guy and may even want to keep him for a long time. I'd heard from the other girls that he was really into women wrestling so most of this evening was simply a way to make a quick, deep bond with him. Lots of girls in this town could offer him a wild night in the sack. Very few could (or would) put on a show like I did for him that night. I like wrestling anyway so this seems like a perfect opportunity for me.

The Troll is prey, too. Not for sex or a relationship – I'd already heard from lots of girls that he wasn't even a good lay. The best lines were “Under-endowed and Under-performing” and “God wasn't kind to that man when he was handing out dicks.” I wouldn't sleep with a repulsive troll like him anyway, but I sure wouldn't put up with bad sex even if he wasn't repulsive. I don't even want to try and work him for an acting role. My man is right – this town is a sewer and the movie and TV business is worse. I'll make my fortune by other means. I will also make the Troll's life hell by the time I'm through. Tonight just set the hook. I want him to suffer for a long time.

Rianna made the list tonight. I was just using her to set up her husband when the night started. I was even being careful not to hurt her much. Then she got cruel with the excessive breast and crotch attacks. It worked to my advantage in setting up her husband and arousing my date, but it HURT dammit and she has to pay. She's now definitely prey, although I have a plan to make her both prey for me and an ally in crushing the Troll.

My man is a Venture Capitalist. I didn't really know what that was when I first saw him at a party. I just knew that he looked hot and clearly dominated the room. In my business classes I remembered hearing the term and knew it had something to do with finance, but couldn't remember exactly what.

The women had an obvious reason to want his attention, but I was puzzled by all the men angling for a chance to talk to him. I asked someone and their answer was “He's a venture capitalist. He has his fingers into lots of projects. Everybody wants to get him to fund their projects.”

I still didn't know what a Venture Capitalist was, but I wasn't going to look stupid and ask. It was pretty clear he had (or controlled) a lot of money. I knew I could find all the information I needed later. Success requires research and knowledge gathering. I ALWAYS do my homework.

I caught his eye and then walked across the room to where he was standing. I joined in the conversation and eventually managed to get a side dialogue going with him. Things were going so well that a couple of the girls actually gave up and moved on. When I'm dressed for a party and turning on the charm most women know they're outclassed.

As the evening wore on I knew I had a potential path to my goals. It even seemed like it might be a very pleasant path to walk. I knew I needed to do some quick research to find out just what a Venture Capitalist does. I also needed a lot of background on his likes and dislikes, dating history, etc. Success takes hard work in any field. I don't plan on sleeping my way to the top, but I like sex and there is no reason to waste it on boring men. If you can find one that can also help you reach your goals, so much the better. Before the party broke up I had given him my number and made arrangements for a date.

As I did my research I became more convinced that this was the right path for me. Even if he had NO money this guy would have been too good to pass up. Hot, smart, funny, charming, it was all there. He had a quite a reputation for being good in bed which never hurts. When I finally found out what a venture capitalist was and how many different projects he funded each year I realized that this was the perfect opportunity. The match between his interests in women's wrestling and my background with the bikers as a child made it almost seem pre-destined. He definitely fell into that special class of prey who were to be treasured and eventually allowed to earn the status of fellow Predator. He was already an Alpha in the business world, anyway, so I knew he had to have basic predator skills.

Knowing all this, I decided our first date should include the events described above with the Troll and his wife. I knew I needed to capture his interest quickly or risk being replaced. Sex alone wasn't going to do it. So, I might as well get him interested at the same time I set up the Troll for his eventual demise. Economy of effort is important if I am to achieve all of my goals.

Since that night I've moved in with my man. We're getting along great – the wrestling stuff is just an add-on to an otherwise great relationship. He treats me well and has started to coach me on the real world of business. My Predator skills are continuing to evolve.

Long ago I decided that I wanted to own my own business and not have to rely on anyone else for money. After we've been together awhile I'm sure he'll help me get it started. I need time to figure out exactly which business I want to get into.

I wasn't surprised when he showed me around his house that he had an annex that contained a small wrestling ring, oil wrestling pit, and changing rooms. Very useful – he and I wrestle regularly as a form of foreplay. It's good practice for me, too. I've also invited in a couple of women to wrestle so that he could watch. One was a “Bi” friend from my “party girl” days. We put on quite an oil wrestling show for him. Another was a lesbian woman who kept hitting on me at a party. I invited her home for a topless match in the ring. I totally dominated her, but she loved it and wants a rematch.

My man and I have even teamed up to do some wrestling with other couples. He has predator skills in the ring, too. We're undefeated as a couple, although I frequently “throw” a fall and allow myself to be worn down and defeated. It makes our opponents think they had a chance to win so they're willing to have another match. It also gets me sympathy from my man for my suffering and strength. I always make sure we come back and win the match, though.

I've also formed a video company that offers tapes of bikini and topless ring wrestling and oil wrestling catfights. It doesn't make enough money for my long term needs, but it gives me an income and something to do while he's at work during the day. Showing him the new videos when he gets home generally has the positive effects as well.

Who knows? We may even get married. For now I'm happy. I have a great man, security, a path to reaching my goals, and a plan for taking my revenge. The Troll and his wife are only the first of many prey to be devoured. Before I'm done I'll be even with everyone.

If I was sitting in a hot tub with my man and a chocolate milk shake life would be perfect. Come to think of it my man just got home, this house has FIVE hot tubs, and I'll bet the cook can make a chocolate milk shake. Time to stop telling this story and get on with reaching my goals. Its fun to let people in on my philosophy of life, but it distracts from the focus I need.

I want it all. I WILL have it all for I am the Ultimate Predator and all are my prey. Some just get eaten with more savagery than others.