Female Boxing Federation

Joanna_Louvier: This is definitely one of those stories that starts with, “where should I begin?” Maybe because my memory isn’t so good anymore… which helps with the pain. Maybe it’s because my manager paid off the league to destroy any official footage of my last fight as the regional Women’s Heavyweight boxing champion. Maybe because no matter where I start, every road, every trail, every track on every patch of the forest floor leads back to you, Stacy. Stacy Silver… or Stevens… whatever you’re going by now. I realize now that when our paths crossed for the first time, it was destiny. I knew as much before you even stepped foot into my ring… what used to be my ring. And I was right… no one was about to stand between me and my destiny… I just didn’t realize what destiny had in store for me.

Boxing with you in that ring threw into sharp relief just how little my 18-0 career of taking apart the biggest, tallest girls across three states had prepared me for the real deal. For you—a woman who, on the surface, almost seemed like a mirror image of myself… but who turned out to be so much more. Until that night, I’d never been truly tested… never been put on the back foot before. I could do offense all day, although I rarely had to keep it up for long… earning 12 wins by KO and 4 by ref stoppage, leaving only 2 to decision… with you, all of my previous experience went out the window. I was out of my depth like never before. And you made me pay. Dearly.

To say that you wrecked me would be the understatement of a lifetime. You broke my spirit, silenced my soul. My fire, reduced to nothing but coal ash… only the faintest hints of potential spark remaining. But you didn’t stop there… You… took me home with you. Made a little place for me. Fastened a silver collar around my neck. And somehow, I found myself wanting that. Wanting to belong to you. And I did.

After some time, that fire started to rekindle. I got strong again. Started fighting again. I couldn’t do that and still remain yours… not in the way you needed. So I had to leave. I struck out on my own again, jet setting all over the world, taking on legendary challenges in every combat sport I could get into. I started collecting belts again. There were setbacks here and there, but I always came back stronger. And that got me thinking… There’s still one belt that I need to win back. A trivial, little, regional, barely official, underground boxing title… a title that meant everything to me. And all I had to do was to go through YOU to get it back. And of course, I wanted nothing more than to go through you.

Well… that’s what I’ve been telling myself this is about, as I put the finishing touches on a day’s worth of final fight prep, finishing off a blistering 13-piece combination on the pads with my training partner and mitt holder, Will. Dressed in my usual green and gold gear, a spandex top and fight skirt, green and gold boxing shoes on my feet, and a custom pair of 8 oz Cleto Reyes lace-up gloves—a gift from you, ironically… or, not. My hair tied back in an intricate, solid, singular French braid, just a few faint strands of hair hanging loose in the front.

As I’m finishing my prep, I feel a familiar fire in my gut. A burning… a desire for redemption… or perhaps, reunion. Either way, tonight, it will be a very different Huntress facing down the Wolf who once tamed her… a stronger, smarter, deadlier Huntress. And when I tame you tonight in YOUR caged ring, Stacy, on YOUR home turf, in front of YOUR fans… I’m not just taking that belt back with me. I’m taking YOU home with me… far from the harsh, blistering desert of Phoenix… to the lush, green, Appalachian mountains of Virginia, which I’ve come to call my home. It’s beautiful up there… it’s a bit of a climb, but when we get to the summit, you’ll see. Yt

Stacy_S: And similarly, I don't think I'd really be able to know where to take a breath and start our tale from, if anyone were to ask in any sort of pre-fight interview, if such things existed in the underground like they do for the stage shows up above-board. The night your name came as my next title defense, some place deep in my heart vibrated like a last chord played on a guitar to end a song. I can still feel it. It'd been so long that most of the details would need me to rewatch any recording I could find online, but that name..... Any other woman, looping back around like this to come back into the cage with me, after as long as it's been?

She'd have been a little 'notch on my title belt' trying again, so to speak. And likely not been worth me doubling-up my prefight training the way I have in the last few weeks. But the woman I beat and took the belt from....even now as I have managed to keep it, from the few others who have stepped through the ropes to try for it... You were always more. A lot of opponents like to posture and preen and give off airs like they run any canvas they step on. Those are usually the ones that melt and crumble the fastest.

But you, you actually sold it like you believed it to your core. You showed me pretty clearly why you were the woman whose shoulder that belt was on when I walked out to join you.....I hadn't been dropped like -that- in ages before your gloves. You made it so that when you finally did stay down, and I realized that belt was mine, it was all I could do after an experience like that, to take you home with me the way I did. I got better at a lot with you, which is probably why I still have this belt now, when you are coming back. But I also knew that a woman like you needed out, so you could see what anywhere else had for you.... The second your name came up on the list, I saw that as you having one little box left unchecked after anywhere and everywhere you'd gotten off to.

I'd tried to fight off the movie cliche of you coming home and all that it oscillated in meaning in the back of my head, but now that I'm in my locker room readying to take you on, and having absolutely no clue exactly what it was that you would be bringing to the table after all of this time, it's not nearly as easy to keep my brain from wondering if this was a one night only sort of cameo in either of our story by the other, or if you were actually coming home. Eschewing my usual cage getup, I custom ordered a pair of brown wolf-print gear for tonight.

Figuring if the Huntress had honed and sharpened her tools and weapons to come try for the Wolf that got away, I should at least look the part. Not having -touched- it until I slipped into it tonight, I stand in front of the mirror and hear a howl in the back of my head, hurrying to get hold of someone to have a single long plaintive wolf howl be all that's played when I come out, after your intro as the challenger this time, as opposed to the first time we met when you hadn't been bested, or even really challenged, when you were the Champion.

Eyeing the fur-pattern 8oz gloves, fighting off a slight little swoon as I wonder what sort of reaction I am going to get from you when you see me all done-up to the nines for you, instead of trotting out in what I'd worn for most of my other bouts. Curious if you'll just take me down and take your belt and your turf back, and drag me off somewhere, or if you'll see that you're not the only one between us who would live up to the song and be quite a bit better harder faster and stronger than our first meeting.

Up on my toes for a little shadowboxing as the butterflies come back. Eyeing the red-lightup clock on the wall in my locker room and seeing that we're about five minutes out. Walking over to push my locker room door closed so whatever lights and sounds and bells and whistles go with your intro won't shake me out of the headspace I know I need to be in if I want to still have this belt after tonight. Slowing my breathing even as I feel hitches in it already. Taking my silver robe on so you won't see the fur-print until I need you to..... sliding my gloves on and taking my belt. Standing just inside my locker door to be as close to all of this as I can as I hear the main floor settle for the night's festivities.

Joanna_Louvier: Smacking my custom green and gold gloves together, more out of an eagerness to give them something to hit than anything else, I bob up and down on my tiptoes as my coach holds my gold flecked mouthguard in front of me and I open wide… He gives it a good shove in with his latex-clad thumb and I move it into place along my upper teeth using my tongue. Bite down. Pop my lower jaw a bit. I shake my shoulders and swing my arms side to side as I try to loosen up and not let the nerves get to me. I know it’s almost time. KNOCK KNOCK. We get the two-minute warning from the attendant.

Perhaps vainly, I take one last look in the mirror… the silver collar prominently fixed around my neck, steel ring hanging patiently from the silver boxing glove charm at the base of my neck. I bring my right glove up to tousle my bangs… “Jo, cut that out, you look beautiful,” Will says, taking over to pretend to fix my hair… “Anyway, that’s not important tonight...” I give him a stern look, and that shuts him up pretty quick. It’s every bit as important as the rest of the prep…

After a brief, tense moment, I smile, and he and my coach do as well. Finally, I hear the announcer’s voice booming through the arena… “Ladies and gentlemen…” he begins, listing off my many victories and exploits throughout the globe… “Tonight she is here for a special women’s middleweight boxing match, looking to reclaim the regional championship from our hometown champ… standing 6’2”, and weighing in at 179 lbs of solid Amazon muscle tonight, hailing from the Appalachian Mountains of Virginia…. Please give a HOT, Phoenix AZ welcome to JOAAAANAAA, THEEEE HUNNTRESSSSSSSS…. LOUUUUUUVIERRRRRR!!!!”

I hear my music cut on. Melodic synths giving way to a steady drum beat, as Karen O’s iconic voice opens up…

The song is as much for you as it is for me. Hell, it’s mostly for you. But the words apply to me too. “I hunger for you only. Don’t leave me now, don’t break the spell…”

As I walk through the hall, I can’t help but notice the door with the paw print and full moon symbols over it. I can’t help myself. My team actually walks ahead, not realizing I’ve dropped back… drawn into the power of your thrall, again… just like old times. Music swells… “In Heaven, lost my taste for Hell…” I trail my right glove along your door, not knowing if you’re still prepping or just standing on the other side. I haven’t lost my taste for Hell. Hell is Heaven when I’m in there with you. 

Stacy_S: I hear your door get the knock, and my eyes clear up and focus after zoning out. Flashbacks are not best for me right now even if they are all I can think about. Lips tightening at your resume, not even remotely allowing myself to mentally take credit for any of it since very little of it was pure boxing. But thinking that the time you spent at my gym after we did this same dance in switched roles had to have prepared you for it. Oh yeah, the belt.... my mind on everything else other than the gold that I've had ever since I took it from you as it is mentioned, but then gone almost instantly as I hear the lyrics to your entry song come up the hall and to my door.

A door that suddenly has the light coming in from the base of it blocked by a passing, then slowed, shadow. Shoulders tensing up as it doesn't take much of any leftover brain power to realize who that is. Swallowing as I feel my shoulders come up as the song is blocked out by the Amazon on the other side of the door. I don't so much as move. Barely a step away. Eyes opening a touch wider as I think I hear something scraping or brushing the side of the door....

Brain scattered in every conceivable direction....you being so set on all of this that you're intentionally coming to get a head start, or...... It's everything I can do right now to stay steady, and level, and just stare at the door, still believing it to have been closed. Your song restarts, and I hear voices of whoever you walked with not sounding close at all, swearing they're calling back "Jo, don't....." but that's background noise. I'm practically tunnel visioned on the door, bracing myself for who and what is on the other side.

Joanna_Louvier: “Jo… ” I almost don’t hear them. I can feel your presence on the other side of the door. Thinking it’s latched, I put a little weight on my right hand against it, turning to my left as I go to wave them off… when suddenly, I feel the door give way. And then I realize, I’m doing this… I’m opening the door to your changing room. What the fuck is wrong with me?! But I can’t stop myself. The door swings open, and I see you… for the first time in months… Standing draped in your silver robe, just a hint of your true colors showing underneath. “Little Silver Riding Hood?” Or… was the Huntress too late to save her from the Big Bad Wolf? For a second, I forget to breathe. Given how our relationship has grown more nurturing over the years, I sometimes forget just how powerful and intimidating you can look when you want to. I actually lose my balance, beginning to fall forward, realizing too late that I’m falling face-first, directly into the path of your sable-clad bosom…

Stacy_S: I tell myself you're playing mind games, because the theme of your build-up has been you coming back to show me my place, and return the favor of showing up on my turf and taking the belt from me. I hear your glove trace the door and feel my eyes half-lid. Breathing a bit as I know I heard you announced out in the main hall. So my walk out is in like ten.........the door actually opens. Holy fuck you look hot. The lyrics in your walkup song would be clearer this repeat, if I was listening, but I'm just staring. Pursing my lips a little as I wait without really breathing, expecting you to say something, but you just fall.

Not when I thought this would be happening but you trip more directly into my dressing room. I have a half-second thought to turn and bring your descent into the title belt I had pulled up onto my shoulder for my walk, but then I realize you aren't falling intentionally and I just watch as you fall into the only opening in my robe, and the top I was hoping to keep secret from you. Planting my feet and catching my taller opponent for the night right between my breasts, not able to stay entirely quiet. But there's no real rush to push you away or any of that. I also don't have the free mental bandwidth to wrap you up. My mind was so far from us doing anything, just trying to make my walk to the ring feel like I thought it should, that supporting your full weight like this caught me off guard. "Hi.....there?" Fingers curling in my gloves as every sort of reaction tried for my attention but just got washed out. Staring down at you a bit.

Joanna_Louvier: Fuckfuckfuckfuck… clumsy, lanky, anwkward idiot… I curse myself for this definitely unintentional faux pas as I reach my gloves out for your hips and proceed to faceplant directly into your 34Cs. My entire core braces for you to slug me… but of course you don’t. You’re not a hothead, or a bully, or the type of person who would take advantage of a situation like this. You’re a champion boxer. And you’re not about to let something unexpected like this situation I’ve created ruin our chance at a ring reunion. And for that, I’m extremely grateful. As the terror and humiliation starts to recede from my mind and body, I become more aware of where exactly my face has landed. Just as I remember… but this is no time for softness. I shudder, getting my feet under me again and gently pushing myself up from your chest, my eyes finally looking up to meet yours, then as I get fully upright, looking ever so slightly downcast to hold your gaze. “Sorry, sorry—uh… hi.”

Brow straightening, mouth twisting into a slightly cocky smirk… knowing I can look hot as fuck and intimidating as fuck just like you… and hoping to look a little more like a woman who is fully capable of turning the tables on you, breaking you, taking my belt back… and who knows, maybe I’ve got a pretty gold collar ready and waiting for you. 

Stacy_S: A few half-ass attempts at a breath, given the new source of stupidly warm, briskly-flowing air between my breasts. Mostly hopeful you haven't seen most any of my attire as it was pretty much custom-ordered for you to see it out under the brighter lights when your reaction could be on more than a few screens for me to enjoy. You push up and I swallow immediately in case you are going to say something I need to respond to. Smirking a bit through pulled lips as you apologize and find your full height.

Sadly, for whatever ego and pride on your end are still in one piece after you fell through a mostly closed door and into a mostly closed robe, cocky and intimidating isn't exactly an easy transition from legless and stammering blushed.... but you try at least. B+ for the effort. "Hi. Shouldn't you be...kinda... somewhere else right now?" Voice likely making it clear that I'd not be all that worried if you pulled that door closed, but fairly sure both of us want to cross up on the canvas and not on the floor of my dressing room. Head starting to swim a little at being eye to eye with you for the first time in an age.

Joanna_Louvier: I try to keep up the tough girl act for maybe a second too long… my smirk breaks and I soften immediately… my face just showing how happy I am to see you. I knew it was a mistake coming to your door. Now I know why. Looking at your face right now… I see… my Stacy. My Wolf. Boss Queen. But… I’m a fighter… I can suppress that desire to soften into you. Until later. Push it down, push it out of my mind. My fingers curl into my gloves now. I can feel the tension in the room. I smile again, eyebrows twisting more seductive now, more predatory… was all of this actually just a ploy to get in your head? You tell me. I lean a few inches in towards you. And in my breathiest, sultriest voice… “Yeah…” my lips hovering a mere inch from yours, emerald eyes locked in on your blue-greens, “see you in there.” And with that, I lean back, receding out of your room again, skipping away to hurry down to the ring as the last few bars of my song play for my walkout… 

 

 

Stacy_S: Your cocky overconfident gimmick falters, but my intended focus on the ring and our bout is likely not close behind as you lean in closer, and end up that close. Pulling in a breath through my nose as you all but coo out your acknowledgment that whatever was going to happen between us needed to start between those ropes. Blinking a few times as you back away and sound like you literally skipped up the hall to get to the ring before your song started a third time. Left standing there with my eyes wide open, and the door to my room equally so. Swallowing and hearing your song fade out. Shuddering a touch as all that I asked to play for my walk out, knowing I was going to be second this time and would be walking out to you was a lone female wolf howl, and nothing else. Shaking off the straggler sort of 'maybe i should have...' thoughts from my brain, and doing as best I can to reset as I walk out of my room and step the same path in the hallway you just rushedly skipped a few seconds ago. Wishing I could see what you looked like when you made it to the ring but knowing i'll have to wait til later to find out. There's a shorter list of highlights on the lead-in to my introduction, mostly details of the handful of ladies that have tried for this belt since I took it off your hands a few years ago. The crowd parsing the details and starting to get louder as the woman with the mic tries to out-shout them, only getting about as far as "Six foot one, one hundred eighty nine.... Stacy.....Still Untamed........Stevens......" having skewed my usual name....

In a way that was intended as a direct little dig into you with a verbal claw....though after the events in my room before, maybe you'll be in the right mindset to end up hearing me declaring that about myself as I head to the ring after pulling my robe more tightly back over my shoulders, to keep any of my outfit that was still a secret to you - despite where your head and face were - a secret. Eyes fluttering a bit as I breathe, heading up the corner steps and through the ropes. Not looking at you because starting a fight full of butterflies is not the best idea right now. Handing my belt to the official who walks over and shows it to you as I breathe out hard and slide my mouthguard in. Back to the ropes in my corner. Gloves on the middle.... 

Joanna_Louvier: I rush down the walkway at first, hearing the crowd roar as I eventually slow to a bouncy walk that takes me the rest of the way to the ring apron, finally finding my feet and feeling like I know what I’m doing. And it’s about time. I climb up the steps and step through the ropes, jumping up and down a bit and settling into a boxer’s bounce to get my blood warm again. I know you’ll be out here any minute now. I get a bit of last minute coaching and get vaseline smeared on my face… once I’m ready I smack my gloves together, slipping into some light shadowboxing, then I start to pace and relax waiting for your turn to come out to the ring.

 

 

Then I hear it… Just a lone wolf howl… then silence. It’s chilling. But it makes sense. We are perfectly paired. I bring out the animal in you. And you bring out the huntress, the seeker in me. You are the wild calling to my soul. And I have answered the call once again. This time, I will not be tamed. A wolf can be tamed… trained, even. But you… I don’t think so. If I am going to break you, it might just kill both of us. And the fighter in me is prepared to do that, if it comes to it. I watch as you stride out to the caged ring, coming up the steps and through the ropes in all your silver glory… the Silver Streak… but your top was brown… I try to get a better look as you get settled in… taking a deep breath in, trying to be the woman I need to be tonight. I can be yours again after that… one way, or another.

Stacy_S: Settled in....haha I'm far from that, even if I try to stand tall in my corner and shrug my robe off so it'd slide down outside the ropes. Leaving me in the brown wolf-print two piece, and gloves, that I waited until tonight to even wear. A bell sounds as is somewhat typical down here, as if that was the final call to attention to anyone involved or related or interested in what was coming. But as far as I'm concerned, we could be standing here alone. I already feel my brain tunnel-visioning on you. One long slow full deep breath, and a pound of my brown-fur print gloves in on each other....and I'm as set as I am going to get. Staring down a woman who's come back again to try and live up to her name....and certain I'll be living up to mine.

Joanna_Louvier: Leaning on the ropes all the way across the ring from you… only you, me, and the ref—a grizzled, if somewhat nondescript man in his fifties, salt-and-pepper hair in a handsome crew cut, black pants and striped shirt—inside the bounds of the caged ring. Outside the ring, in the corners, our coaches and corners stand on an outer platform, with access through a special cage door for the round breaks. My emerald eyes seeking your sapphires, falling on your silver shroud. I watch as you appear to transform before my eyes. The robe falls away, behind the turnbuckle, revealing your chiseled, sculpted physique in all its glory… and your updated wardrobe as well. To say I didn’t expect it would be an understatement, but somehow, you manage to pull it off. In fact, you look absolutely magnificent, like an alpha she-wolf staring down a rival. I wouldn’t quite liken our relationship to that, but in this moment, you’re bringing out the beast in my heart as well…

The bell signals that it’s time for us to come to the center. We both know the rules, and although I am much more interested in you, I listen, just to make sure I don’t miss anything important. “This is a pro boxing match scheduled to go for 12 rounds. Win by KO, TKO, or…” He pauses for a second, studying the two of us, almost as if he’s about to change his mind. “…Or judges’ decision… although I doubt either of you ladies are going to let it come to that.” As he continues, I’m training my eyes on yours, breathing slowly in controlled, measured breaths. For about a minute, I’m keeping it pretty cool, not showing much of any emotion. But I just can’t help myself…

It starts as a little crack in the facade, my perfectly flat mouthguard-stuffed, tight-lipped glare slowly curling up into an impish grin. “So…” I mutter, in a register only you and I can hear, “what, is it “Brown Streak” now?” Giving a wink and a slight flick of my tongue, I can’t help but let a little giggle escape my lips. “Really, though… you look sexy as fuck in that, babe.” A look of sincerity returns to my eyes as I say it, and I hope you know I mean it. You looking the way you do tonight, so beautiful, so powerful, so dominant, so alpha… is going to make your imminent destruction all the more exquisite. I’m starting to understand now, perhaps, what a woman like you must have felt towards me the first time you knocked me down, two years ago. To see your particular flavor of beautiful feminine power crumble at my hands… that is something worth fighting for. Worth dying for. Even worth killing for. Love you, Stace... “Touch gloves!”

Stacy_S: I feel my fingers twitching and flexing and fidgeting and tensing inside my gloves as this ring both feels ridiculously too small, given the size of the two combatants inside it, and miles across, as I know there won't be an inch of this canvas requested or given once we get through these last few little required hoops to have the outcome of tonight mean anything as far as that belt that's like third priority if that for me... Gnawing on the placeholder piece of plastic on the back of my mouthguard. Chin tucking a little as I look across at you after no longer hiding anything, my new look and the result of the last month of training for this, anything, behind my robe.

Wanting to smile at the reaction on your end, but feeling like leaving your loss of balance backstage as the softest I get with you before one of us is announced as the victrix what is likely hours from now. Feeling the sides of my neck tense a little and remembering to breathe, and swallow a little of that air, to keep the internal things that are supposed to be self-controlled running how they should. Walking to the middle of the ring, a little warmer, and quite a bit more fired up as we listen for the official parameters that we are allegedly being bound to inside this ring. You don't look like you could care any less about any of the words being said between us, and I don't think I've blinked since I slipped out of my robe. I'm one single solitary step away from you, and just as the borders I've tried to keep up to keep me from acting like any of the last two years baaaaarely start to crack....

You make that little chirp about the fur-print I went with to dance with you tonight. My own lips tighten and pull back, though it's almost immediately a smile as the ring name alteration you come up with didn't come to mind before now...my mind thinking the one I gave for the announcer's card would hit home with you. Lips pursed and pulled in at the rest of what you said before I nod and do smile, a little. The ref finally breaks out of the pablum of all the things legally required for any bit of what's about to happen to be sanctioned and tells us to touch up.... reaching my gloves out toward you and pulling in a breath through my nose. Holding it long enough to let the moment settle as my eyes stay up on yours. Mouth falling open to let it back out, flooded in butterflies as this means neither of us has anything to hide behind anymore. It's more real now.

Joanna_Louvier: Standing here with you now, everything about this moment, and everything between us, is more vivid. Watching the smile creep across your lips, despite your attempt to keep your armor up, the inhale and slow exhale of breath… it’s like the framerate has increased, and I can see everything more clearly now. Maybe that’s the adrenaline rushing through my veins as my heart rate increases well beyond where I normally am just before the start of a match. Beating for you in more ways than one. This is it. As soon as that bell rings, two wild animals will be loosed on each other inside this cage. I almost feel sorry for the poor referee… my smile returns to more of a cool pout as I work to self-regulate, as you do.

Nerves are on fire. Muscle fibers on a hair trigger. I’m nearly tempted to haul off and slug you right here where we stand… that’s how badly I want you… need you… right now. But I’m not stupid, and I can wait a few more seconds, after how long I’ve waited for the opportunity to do this properly with you. At the ref’s command, I push my gloves firmly into yours, not wasting energy on showing off or trying to piss you off by trying to slam them down onto them. We’re past all that bullshit. We know each other. Inside and out. As I return to my corner, I backpedal, my eyes still locked on yours. It seems as though you’ve got the same idea… our gazes still locked. I’m studying your face, studying your eyes. I want to remember how they look tonight. Because after tonight, they might look different. After tonight, I might not be able to see you ever again…

But no… that’s the worst case scenario. I push it out of my mind. This is not the time for worrying. As soon as that bell rings, everything between us up to this point will no longer matter… Our lives, our shared history, our potential shared future, all of it goes into cryosleep… until one of us goes down, and stays there. Bobbing lightly in my corner, feeling good. I’ve got this. Guard loose. Orthodox. Nothing fancy. I’ll fight you in whatever stance you choose, but I’m starting here. It’s not long before the bell sounds… DING DING. “Box!” Shouts the ref. I shuffle out to meet you in the center, throwing a stiff jab at your guard, which I know will just make you roll your eyes… then bending my knees to sit down into a right cross aiming for your right obliques, before popping back a step and up to my full height with a head-level long left hook, looking to tag your cheek and then circle left, looking to stay on the outside of your southpaw stance. 

Stacy_S: There are times that it's felt like we've gone two years without staring each other down across a ring. There are times it's felt like ten years. And there are mornings it feels like I could look across at the other side of my bed and see you still sleeping there, emerald eyes closed and likely dreaming of green gloves getting all manner of modern art on their leather. And now I am standing in a corner of a caged ring, in front of so many other eyes, and yet the only thing I want to see, and track, are those same green eyes.

A brief little flinch, twinge across my face as I feel a bundle of nerves tighten along the side of my neck and trace a fiery path straight down to my feet. I was ready for this when that wolf howl played out, but it was almost like the longer it took for that bell to ring the more overclocked my nerves were getting. That look in your eyes wasn't helping, or maybe it was?

Fingers splayed out as much as possible inside the tight 8oz leather mitt surrounding each hand, breathing as slow as I can make myself, almost taking too long before breathing in, wanting to find a norm, a base, before I lose the ability to control any of that when you step out from your corner and come at me. Head swimming for a moment, eyes floaty before I see you up light on your toes across the ring. Feeling like the time when all I can do is be coiled up in my corner waiting to strike was about to come to an end.

I don't even, really, hear the bell. I just watch your left foot slide out front, and try to hide the purse in my lips against my mouthguard at that. You, above anyone else, know I'm a southpaw.... I slip my left foot out front and play orthodox just to try and counter, though I'm quite aware we both know when I have those two mitts of yours to play air traffic control for, I'll stop having the mental bandwidth to play footwork games with you and will fall back southpaw anyway.

The volume of the crowd around us seems to double as soon as either of us comes out of our corner, and I watch you head directly to the middle. Coming about 2/3 of the way there myself, your jab coming out just as I had planned on circling instead of going straight to the center myself so I swat at it and sidestep. You drop down as I start to circle, and my track brings me more directly into your low cross. That changing my mind on doing any dancing as my lips pop open and show you quite a bit of plastic.

I watch your eyes come up, and that's my cue to drop down under your left hook and throw a sudden, sharp right of my own into the opening along the outside edge of your left breast that left open for me, seeing your circling and wondering if I'll get as lucky as you did a moment ago when I sidestepped into your glove. Either way, I'd end up pushing up onto my toes and going more directly for the middle to see if I can stake claim to it without interruption.

Joanna_Louvier: I come out of my corner, shuffling to the center in my orthodox stance, elbows tucked to my lower ribs, chin down, left in front, right glove protecting my jaw. Sticking to my fight plan, the same fight plan I’ve had since I decided to challenge you to reclaim my belt. And then I notice… you’re not in southpaw, like I figured you’d be. You’re starting orthodox. Just like the first time. Only then, it was for the purpose of giving me a false sense of security, only to spring your true power on me later on in the fight. This time, I already know you’re a southpaw… so I’m not sure what the angle is. Oh well… you want to try this again, fine by me. I’ll take every possible edge I can get. You swat down my opening jab, sidestepping to your right, which actually puts you squarely in front of my cross as I throw it, taking away some precision but letting it hit with a bit more power, landing flush. I can almost taste the saliva as your mouthguard protrudes forward for a moment.

Thinking I’ve got my cue to come upstairs and knock it fully out of your pretty mouth, I push up with my quads and swing an aggressive left hook at where your head ought to be… but isn’t. You know me well enough to know my patterns when it comes to level changes, and I suppose it’s a pretty predictable opening gambit after all. Your sharp right straight stings my upper ribs and the outside of my breast, but it’s coming from your non-dominant hand in your non-dominant stance, so it’s nothing I can’t deal with early on. I pull my guard back and continue circling to my left, and then quickly trying to course-correct and move to my right again to stay with you and try not to cede the center. Firing another jab, this time seeking your forehead, before pulling my guard in tighter, knees bent slightly, taking a cross step with my left foot leading, then pivoting my right foot like a pendulum to get right up in your space, right in front of you.

Slipping to my right in anticipation of a left from you, ready to get outside it or take it on my elbow, then come screaming up with my right glove twisting into you for a crisp right uppercut to your body. Twisting the other way to bring the left uppercut up between your 34Cs to land at the base of your jaw. Then stepping back out, if I can, because being that close to you for too long is bad for my health, and I’m not stupid.

Stacy_S: Somewhat surprised by how much of your file from two years ago my brain is managing to dust off and try to read from, feeling fairly good about saving my head from that left glove. But not letting myself take too much credit for the soft easy simple stuff now, knowing it's gonna be hours before I have the reward or two I am hoping to at the end of this. Tracking your eyes and reading your shoulders, letting myself half-smile a little as my right mitt lands fairly well even if you aren't slowed by it.

You come at me as I try to dart to the middle of the ring and my blue eyes widen a little as you lead with a left, knowing you're probably wanting to knock my head into the second row at some point tonight. I brace, and then settle as it was just a jab.... I watch from behind a half-raised guard as you shift into a tighter guard and give yourself a more fluid base, and suddenly we're dancing in the center of the ring. A brief little flash of wolf-turned-deer in the headlights as being mere inches from the fire I can only imagine you have in those gloves after training up for me for this long, I flinch out a left hook for your right eye as I feel my ribs eat your first upper fairly clean given my arm was extended.

Groaning and starting to curl in when my lowered eyes see your body twisting and I push off of you and try to get a step or two in reverse as there's no way what that leads to is good for me. Arms out in front as your left arm drives up, letting my gloves/arms serve as flak and take that one, before a little self-preservation leaks into my brain and I push to follow forward as you back out, to swipe a glove out for your cheek, and the other out into your mouth...

Joanna_Louvier: As I move with you to meet in the center, the jab I fire out does its job… just making you brace and get behind your half-raised guard for a second… we both know that moving right and throwing a left is not going to result in much power, but it does buy me the extra half-second I need to cross step and pivot into position. My first move standing right in front of you is a slip to my right, but when I come in with the right upper, the left hook I predicted comes in late, just about the same time my right upper finds your ribs. Thanks to my right shoulder being in front, I’m able to roll it off to my left so your glove just smacks the top of my temple instead of blasting my right eye through the back of my skull. I’m realizing that I’m so used to fighting southpaws that having this side of you closer to me limits what I can do with my right. I’d have much rather caught you with that flush below your sternum, but I’ll take what I can get as my mind works to adjust tactics.

When I send the left upper, I send it with a somewhat dizzy resolve, and it’s lacking the power I had hoped to send it with. You get the memo just in time to step back out of the way, which at least earns me another step in the direction of centre ring. Back, and to my right. I’m finally feeling like I’ve got a good command of the space when you come back in with another left hook, and I opt to use my height and reach to try to counter with a stiff jab arcing over the path of your hook and into your mouthguard to knock you back before your glove can reach my cheek. Keeping my right up against my jaw out of caution… before I see you sending the right cross at my mouth.

This time, I combine a roll under it to my left with a crisp right hook, before pulling my guard in tight and high and coming up again like Jack Dempsey over the top with another left hook at your jaw, then a corkscrew jab at your right eyebrow, trying to see if I can make you see red in the opening seconds of the first round.

Stacy_S: I don't get to the center, at least not without company. Stand and trade with a woman like you in the center of a cage, with you this riled up.... it wouldn't go well for most anyone. And tonight, I'm part of the majority. For a long, long while all four gloves sail and curve and fly and drive. Your uppercut to my ribs cuts some of my hook as my body folds in instead of being braced, but your expert roll helps the theme of the next few moments as your gloves chop in and you show the result of your intense training, as you limit what my return fire could have been while serving me up.

By the time the wild moments in the center of the ring settle, and your final left-left pairing lands, it leaves me stunned, that hook dropping the lower half of my jaw loose, staring at you dumbly. Up until my right eye goes red. I squeal out in a bit of panic and try to blink my eye clear, realizing I'd been busted open. My chin tucks to counter the wide open jaw, making me need to look up at you more than the single inch of difference between us would regularly require. Not even aware of where my gloves are for a long second before I try and pull them up, thinking if I move a foot from where I've found some balance, I'd end up splayed out on the canvas. Feeling quite literally drawn and quartered in a cage by a Huntress who couldn't look less like the one that fell into my cleavage what feels like an hour ago.

Joanna_Louvier: I swing… roll… swing… twist… and twist some more… like a knife in your fucking guts… except it’s my glove, above your eye. The way each punch leaves you a little more cratered, a little more cracked, a little more busted open than the last… it’s the closest thing to creating a work of art that I’ve done in well over a year. And with each stroke of my bloody stylus, the urge to irreparably destroy you bubbles up higher and higher, into my heart, into my throat, into my brain… I love you, Stacy… but you leave me no choice. Surely, you must have known I’d want this… but I never expected to take it from you so… quickly. I know an injured wolf is dangerous, it’s a bit of a cliché but it’s true… so as your panicked squeal alights on my ears as you struggle to understand what the fuck just happened to your face… I take a breath, and line up my shot.

Stepping left, bending at the knees and delivering another thundering left hook as you raise your guard, this time taking aim at your serratus and upper obliques, not your liver… because I want to weaken your punches, hobble you, to make it easier to flay you alive for the rest of the night… Then surging up, curling upward and twisting in with my right shoulder lined up with yours, almost stepping past you, like a pawn in chess performing an “en passant,” I explode up with a right uppercut at your solar plexus, looking to leave you breathless in more ways than one… then, rolling to my right… coming back up and firing off a fucking NUCLEAR right cross looking to blacken your left eye and hopefully leave you splattered out on the canvas like a freshly tanned wolf pelt… mmmmhh

Stacy_S: This was not the re-tried first impression I worked so hard leading up to tonight to make. My gloves playing the role of accessories while yours left me barely able to stand. You pause as you hear me squeal in response to one eye's vision going red, and that leaves me standing - in so many words - on legs that a house of cards would be more stable than. The second or two that aren't filled with your grunts and such from throwing punches makes my brain reflexively try to keep my eyes open. Guard just above breast level as I pull in a shuddered breath and watch you dart quickly off to the side for that left hook. It connects neatly under my elbows and I feel my body lifted up onto my toes, falling toward you and into that uppercut. Gloves flailing out toward you, maybe your shoulders, as my eyes water at that point too much to know as my tongue tries to keep my mouthguard in despite my wide open mouth.

You roll the other way and my gloves miss everything, but your right doesn't, I go from seeing every color in that eye to realizing I'm flat on my back like a chopped up starfish without any knowledge of the moments between. Clenching my eyes shut a few times to see if I can blink my left eye open....my neck sore for a reason that doesn't immediately click as the result of your cross whipping my head to the side as it did....

Joanna_Louvier: Every single punch lands, perfectly, again. More than perfectly. My own punches are surprising me, hurting you in ways even I didn’t anticipate. And I wish, I wish, I wish that was enough to sate my bloodlust right now. I wish… that the left hook under your armpit that brings you up onto your toes… that the stabbing right uppercut into your solar plexus, forcing breath and tears from you at once as your arms flail uselessly… that the rolling right cross to your left eye that sends you careening to the canvas, and leaves you lying splayed out and unmoving… I wish that was enough to cool my blood right now. But I’m on a rampage. This is bigger than me and you now. It’s existential.

I take a moment to breathe, then when I notice you’re really on your back, I beat my chest like a gorilla, unleashing a primal scream like nothing I’ve ever heard before. “GET THE FUCK BACK UP, STACY!!! I FUCKING DARE YOU!!!” I scream, standing over you now, my feet on either side of you… how I got there, I don’t know… I must have blacked out. All I know is now, the ref is attempting to get between us, pushing me back from you before I can mount your face and claim my rightful throne. I’m tempted to haul off and slug him, but I’m better than that, at least… I think. “1… 2…” he begins, as you seem to show the beginnings of an awareness returning to your beaten form.

Stacy_S: I hear you before I see you; and even then all I 'see' is the shadow you cause over my closed eyelids. I'd be staring wide-eyed if they were open though because I'd never have seen or heard you like that......in the time we spent around each other before we'd parted. The narrative in that side of my dulled-senses brain was barely even coming to terms with thoughts of you recovering from your slip up backstage damned well, and clearly miles and miles ahead of my own efforts to do the same, and hadn't even breached the topic of you showing that you weren't just trying to fire me up by saying you'd trained your ASS off for this fight and were going to show me...I've been shown, clear as possible

But this, this was new....and even with the "if it wasn't you" voices quieted, I'd probably admit to being scared of the fact that your voice from directly over my beaten and put down body, that fiery, was more than enough for me to feel it across whatever parts of mine weren't rapidly changing colors because of your gloves. I was in -deep,- that much was succinctly, crystalline clear.... And I knew that not only could I not turn tail and crawl out, but that you wouldn't let me. And you knew I wouldn't actually do that anyway. So....... 'the only way out is through' as the song goes. It feels like a minute before I even realize the ref was counting.

Oh joy, I get to get up and take more of that. Fighting off a slight little wave of shivers that felt like they started in my core for once, only partially reassured by not seeing your shadow on my eyelids as I try to center on the ref's voice and figure out what number he was saying, over everything else going on in my head. Moving to sit up, before the two craters you left tell me that's not happening. Pulling my eyes open, and realizing how swollen my left was. Finally, finally fucking hitting the switch I should have stayed to myself backstage and ductaped 'ON' and melding as little as I can right now into the side of me that you likely went this whole time expecting to see up until you landed almost in my lap backstage. Growling for a few different reasons as I roll onto my fours.

Annoyed and angered and undeniably fucking hurt..... but a little at a time there's a sort of shift happening between the wolfpup you flayed and dropped - nee PUT down - and the Wolf that was waking up in response to that. It wasn't going to be immediate, it might take an hour to fully arrive there, but nevertheless.....I push up off my gloves and try to stand. Spooked in my own head at the idea of you pushing past whatever number the ref was at and putting me back down, but I manage to not turn toward you just yet. Wanting to exist on my own for the second or three I have to do so before you are back. Back on me..... Wishing more than anything my mind was in the place where that was the hottest thing imaginable. But knowing as I turn toward you and pull my gloves up, that both of us are hours from that.

<Joanna_Louvier> Somewhere between the gorilla chest-thump and the ref shoving me off of you and you wrenching your flayed body up off the canvas, I manage to come back down from “blood-frenzied berserker” to the more real me, a woman who has found herself in a cage she willingly walked into, the only way out being through the woman she loves most, out of all women—out of all people—out of everything in her life right now. And still… “Better be ready defend yourself this time, baby,” I hiss, hovering just out of reach of the ref as you are on all fours, currently trying to wake up enough to get your feet under you, “because I’m ready to fucking BURY you.” I fall back into a boxer’s bounce, perhaps a little too energetic, which I can’t help because I’ve got more adrenaline coursing through me right now than most people experience in a year…

<Joanna_Louvier> I smack my gloves together, thinking about how I’m gonna approach this next time, if you manage to beat the count… And of course, of course I’m hoping…no… I am expecting… you will.

<Stacy_S> Whoever the fucking brunette is that I'm staring straight through outside the cage, sitting in like the 7th row, as I try to remember what the fuck is going on, probably thinks I remember her from somewhere and just realized she owes me money. I'm excessively far gone even now. And then a woman who I owe quite a bit to hisses at me and my brain lapses right back into what's actually real. Instantly my head tucks in toward my shoulders like that'd hide 6'1" nearly 190 of me from the reticle of the Huntress staring at the back of my head. Your gloves smack together and I realize I was never entirely fully aware of the ref's voice. I guess I got up in time as no one's waving me off or pulling me to a corner..... so I take a full deep breath and push off the cage wall, turning on whichever foot lands most solidly and facing you again. Likely looking like the start of a modern art piece while you.....look exactly like that pic to me. Juxtaposition can be sweet and all, but now...

<Joanna_Louvier> The ref is shouting “Six!” And I see you getting to one knee, pushing off the cage wall that lines the sides of our boxing ring, making the boundaries of our battle all-encompassing, and rather unyielding if one’s back is on the ropes. Was it always like this, or did you get the idea from my ring, back home? Where is home, though?—that is the question. Certainly not where I grew up. Maybe my old training center, from when I was coming up, a fresh prospect with no L’s on my record. There’s the camp in Phuket where I trained and fought professional for two years straight… and then… there’s your gym. Looking at you, so bloodied and busted up after mere seconds of this match, I wonder where I might go if you don’t manage to survive my fists tonight.

I suddenly become more aware of the collar on my neck. I guess I’ve been thinking about what it means lately. Before tonight, I thought maybe I’d take it off, after I get my belt back. Now, I’m not so sure. I bring my right glove up to it, touching the silver wolf that holds the metal ring where a leash can be attached. I get this feeling like it’s warming me… but not in a bad way. In a way that brings me great peace, and comfort. Which is fortunate for you, because I’ve managed to lower the temperature of my blood to a simmer at this point. You’re back in southpaw now, your natural stance, as a leftie… your brain probably falling back on what is most familiar after being bounced around the walls of your skull just moments ago. “Come on, Stace. I know you’re better than that.” That’s all I say, and it’s all I need to say. I know you know where my heart is right now. Even if I strayed… I’m here now for a reason. I’m ready to come home. And I’m about to break down the front door.

Ready or not, here I come. I’m stepping in with a left jab and a *hard* right cross, fully expecting you to defend both… Slipping left and bending my knees, curling a left uppercut into your right lower ribs, then stepping right into another right cross at your chin, finally slipping right and switching levels again, twisting in hard with a tight right hook at your solar plexus, before pulling my gloves in close and getting right up in your face, wanting to breathe you in and get in the phone booth with you to press my advantage… and press my body into yours.

<Stacy_S> Not...entirely sure how or why I was given the time to completely recongeal into anything remotely resembling the woman that walked to the cage with that belt a couple minutes ago, but eventually my eyes focus on the taller woman a couple steps away, somewhere between your glove coming down from your collar and resetting in guard. Blinking a few times as my eyes go wide at your comment and immediately dropping the attempt at making eye contact. Still not there yet even as my brain completely tossed the idea of thinking that switching footing would be something you wouldn't just naturally grab onto and cancel out any advantage that would be for me.

Lips pursed as I can feel the back of my mind still trying to kickstart but then you're not a half-dozen steps away from me, you're driving in again. I go on autopilot for long enough to swipe at your left jab and pull myself out of the path of your right cross, but then look lost as you drop down. Brought back around and up to speed with your shovel hook, feeling more like a bare fist to my ribs than anything gloved even as I go up on my toes and swing my right hand in at your forehead before you step in and pop back up. Being rewarded for not being shoved back against the cage wall by ending up nose to nose with you. Brain skipping throwing anything else even as I pant literally right into your face. Wincing a little as my ribs settle. Feet pressing up onto my toes to press into you, warming up rather fast and maybe showing you a little spark in my eyes as my systems come more and more online.

<Joanna_Louvier> Stepping in, I’m already feeling pretty good, having noticed the look on your face as you quickly abandoned eye contact after my comment just now. I just hope you aren’t too hurt by how harsh I’m acting… It’s all coming from a place of love… deep love. I want to show you just how much you mean to me. And I want to show you by beating you into retirement. My jab shoots out and you bat it down, almost effortlessly, just like the old days. That’s weird. What happened to “wolf-in-the-headlights? And you slip outside the path of my right. My left finds purchase against your lower ribs, not quite a liver shot, but I can tell it hurts you… Now, coming up and—FWHAAAM—my head is rocked back as your right lands squarely against the center of my forehead… the first real taste of your power that I’ve had tonight…

And then I get to thinking… maybe you were overthinking things… now, after getting rebooted, you’re on autopilot, just letting it flow. And you’re probably a lot more dangerous that way, than when you’re trying to impress me. Suddenly, I’ve completely forgotten the rest of the combo I was going to throw, and you’re stepping in on me, while I’m just doing my best not to fall on my ass. Luckily for me, you don’t seem to have anything else in the chamber to follow that up with… just a couple hot breaths in my face, and your chest against mine, as I take a beat to let the stars dissipate from my vision and lock horns with you as I press my right temple into yours. “Nice…” I growl, under my breath, knowing you can hear it as I’m speaking directly into your ear.

The first time you’ve made me stop and have to reevaluate my options, made me have to adapt, in this fight, which is only just now truly beginning. You’ve still got the momentum though, and you bully me back a bit using your weight to your advantage, ropes only a few more steps behind me now as you push me back. I get one chance to plant my back foot and I use it to send a very close-range right uppercut at your solar plexus before bringing it back to guard. Hoping that tells you I’m not about to let one headshot break me.

<Stacy_S> A long slow breath comes out of my nose after I land my first punch of the night. Not aware at all that you had more coming for me, just as I didn't think far enough ahead to plan a follow-up if that punch worked. The longer I manage to stay on my feet without taking another nap, the clearer my rattled brain starts functioning. And your growl.....only makes me try to get my head around and find your eyes, that is the Joanna I wanted to see tonight. Well, hear. The one I almost don't remember all that clearly right now, the one that fell facefirst into my chest? I can try to find that one later. I slow up on my push toward the ropes...

expecting the two of us to just arrive there whenever this plane lands. But what lands instead is your right glove. Feet slowing to a full stop after as I extend my arms to push you into the ropes instead of getting there with you. Mouth open, face scrunched a bit as I settle but realize I stayed up. Looking up as you guard, only briefly concerned with knowing if you got to the ropes or not before I take the step in that I would have before, and flinging my right glove up for your forehead to see if my shot that slowed you down a little is still on your mind. Wanting so badly for your gloves to come up even a little, so I can twist, and dip my left shoulder, and bring an uppercut into the center of your ribs, just below the perceived padding of your breasts.... Brain piecing together the 'get you against the ropes' visual but not as quickly as I might like.

<Joanna_Louvier> This… this is the Stacy I remember. The one I trained for. My Stacy. And maybe I’m not quite the Joanna you remember collaring two years ago. How could I be? I’ve changed in so many ways… and you’ve been the catalyst for much of that change. But right now, this… this feels like home. I guess my uppercut manages to get a reaction from you, as you decide to stop grinding on me and opt to try to push me the rest of the way back to the ropes. I stop just two steps from them before I regroup and get my balance. You swing a big overhand right hook for my head again, and I can’t help but bend my knees and roll under it, shifting my weight to my right, then left as I swing a left shovel hook for your liver—a bit rushed though, more of a defensive counterpunch than anything… and as I’m rising back up from that, I’m only partially able to react in time to get my gloves in the way of your left uppercut, which—“Ughhhk!” Punches through and lands solidly against my upper ribs, right below my right breast.

It knocks me another step back, but I’m hardly out of options. I step right this time, sending another hard right cross at your left eye, as if you hadn’t started getting tired of those yet, then a left hook at your nose, but I’ll take whatever I can get as long as it’s part of your face… and trying to step right again if you don’t manage to corral me back to my left after that…

Stacy_S: I'm still standing, so the part of my brain gunshy about overcommitting and ending up napping on the canvas again is further and further pushed to the dark back rooms of my brain. Even though I can tell I didn't line things up to push you fully into the ropes like I wanted. You opt to swim under my feinted right hand as opposed to bringing your guard up - in hindsight that's classic you but in my defense it has been like a decade since I've seen this in front of me. I take a shovel hook for my attempted bait and switch, leaving me open-mouthed and pulling in air as you come back up and my uppercut curls home.

You're about halfway to the ropes from where you stopped, but even I am not even tracking that anymore, managing to close my mouth back up after breathing as I watch your right arm come up, thinking it's reactionary to my jaw being open like that but instead it's just to make the colors around my left eye even less pleasant. Smacked back a half step and watching - mostly through my right eye for now obvious reasons - your left hook curl hard into the air between us where my face was. Feeling a knot growing in my gut at how far across the ring I think my jaw would have been if I had stood and eaten that.

Taking about a half second to think about anything else when I watch you step to your right and randomly decide to fire the hardest uppercut I can into that side of your jaw as you move right in line with my left arm. Working on getting my left eye to stay open, turning to do something I hadn't done nearly enough of yet and put -two- punches in a line, wanting to curve my right glove into your left side ribs, willing myself to keep my feet where they are, not backing off from you as we trade.

Joanna_Louvier: Feeling pretty slick after stepping out into a hard right cross that fills your left eye socket full of compressed leather, and getting to watch your reaction on your face as I follow up with the left hook… not particularly phased by the fact that it missed, since I got to knock your head back and make you shake out the cobwebs in a way that is truly endearing to watch… still so pleased with myself that I don’t quite notice your left glove making its way upward like a heat seeking missile, popping under my right breast before SNAPPING my head back, my right mandible screaming as I bite down hard on my mouthguard… might have a hairline fracture there now… But I’m not thinking of that in the moment—mostly just concerned with how to come back down to the canvas from my tiptoes in a way that doesn’t leave me flat-footed, or worse, flat on my ass.

I manage to stay on the balls of my feet, but the impact coming from my right side means I take a step to the left, back towards the ropes, as I try to regain a sense of balance and my relative position in the cosmos, like a fighter pilot trying to differentiate between sea and sky… but I don’t have much time to think about that, because your right is sending shockwaves through my ribs, a solid shot that rings out like a .38 special under an overpass in the dead of night. I stumble back a step to my right, slightly dazed and pain-addled, suddenly remembering who exactly it is I’ve stepped into this ring with. Fuck. Yes. I shake my head as I reset my guard, turning slightly and spitting a wad of blood and saliva onto the edge of the ring apron. Shaking out my shoulders, eyes quickly refocusing on the hips of the strongest and most brilliant fighter I’ve ever faced in my life.

Stacy_S: Eyes tracking yours, watching as you go from self-impressed bitch at being the sole right-gloved reason my left eye still won't open all the way back up, to just kind of staring after your hook drives a hole through the air where I would've been standing if that right glove didn't do that.....to staring up at the lights after my left glove makes a puddle-jumper stop at the base of your breast before ripping your line of sight up away from my eyes and you get even taller than already being taller than me while you're up on your toes like that. Even through my 1.5-open eyes that looks amazing. But I know I'm still digging myself out of a hole so I try best I can not to get too riled up at seeing that.

Attention moving to those killer gloves of yours as you step toward the ropes, eyes going wide open - such as they can - as my shot to your ribs seems to land as pure and true as anything possibly could have.... I pull a breath in through my nose and let it out slow enough to keep focus on you even as you bring your guard up. I watch you turn your head to the side to spit red out onto the apron and I push forward as soon as I see the side of your head for a reason that's not my leather, and work to drill a hook just under your plainly displayed ear. Knowing I have to be fast but also knowing I can't soft-toss with you anymore. Wanting my other glove to come up and curl down into your mouth as I feel my feet sliding forward, more than intending them to.... lips tight, breathing through my nose. Feeling as close to 'back to even' as I think I can right now just staring at you

Joanna_Louvier: My eyes on your hips… not only because that’s where I want to be… mostly because it’s the most reliable spot to watch if you want to predict an opponent’s movements. A lot of people watch the shoulders… but a lot of people don’t counterpunch at my level. Yeah, I turn my head for a second to spit out some blood, but your follow-up left hook, from your orthodox stance, is easy enough to read, even after getting my brain bounced less than five seconds ago. It probably helps that it’s not your dominant stance, which I know for a fact is southpaw, because you made a point of springing that on me in dramatic fashion in our first bout, like Inigo Montoya in “The Princess Bride”…

I roll under it, stepping to my right again, coming up slightly at a T-position to your left side as you’re retracting your left back to guard. I send a sharp right hook at your left lower ribs while you’re twisting into a right cross that can’t possibly hit me all the way over here… before half-stepping back and rising to full height, sending a left jab, jab-cross combo at chin level to catch any part of you that I can, and try to send YOU into the ropes this time.

Stacy_S: Yeah, about that 'back to even' daydream...... Even a Phoenix can get ice-water dumped on her, as is obvious as both gloves come up as empty as your last hook did. My hook to your ear when you turned your head slipped and rolled under, leaving you nowhere near where you were when I went for your mouth with a hindsight-displayed heavier all-in shot than I should have. Brain flashing warning lights, but still trying not to fall back doe-eyed even as I have to turn to follow you instead of turn to watch you sliding up the ropes toward a corner. Tense in ways I'd have thought I was done needing to be. Bending in as your right hook digs low before I can get my right hand back, and feeling like this is the worst possible time, and worst possible way, to see you back up at my eye level again.

Your twin jabs cross my brain's wires and my gloves X out in front of me despite your leather patting my chin. I push my rocked guard out toward you as that look in your eyes from before is back almost instantly, trying to keep whatever you're leading to from coming in. Feeling your glove slip between my wrists on your cross and stun me where I'm standing. Extended arms out toward you not helping much as the rest of me finds the ropes. Kicking my right foot up to try and be standing at least a little on my own accord as I pull my guard back and elbows in. Shoulders curled, tongue pressed firm in along the back of my mouthguard, eyes managing to clear as I know better than over extending this soon after an over extension got me into the ropes.

Joanna_Louvier: I can’t help but notice you looking like a wet bird who was once engulfed in flames, as another one of my rolling body hook stings your ribs and my barrage of straight punches just manages to hit through your guard… the cross, just barely… still feeling the strength in your arms on my way to touching your chin. It’s only now that I realize… I’m not used to this... I know that look… and there’s a part of me that flinches at it… Seeing you on the back foot, much less the ropes, or even on your back, like earlier… But… I’m not going to question it. I can’t afford to, right now. Right now, it’s you, or me.

My eyes boring into you, coldly, as I go about my grim task… pulling in a breath and stepping in, sending a long, scooping left uppercut for your chin, then slipping left into a left hook at your temple, before barreling right to try to plant my right shoulder into your sternum, aiming to curl a heavy right uppercut into the spot just above your waistband… before rolling right, then rolling left again, guard pulled up and in.

Stacy_S: Bottom lip pressing up as I flinch at the thought of you seeing me like a wet rag in the first round of something both of us couldn't have wanted more than this.... Brain piecing things together in reality to acknowledge that I'm not in pieces, or really all that hurt, so this isn't a few minutes ago. And I'm still me. Arms dropped suddenly, more like rechambering them than keeping them down as my gloves pop back in my normal guard. Pure southpaw, screwing off with the idea of bothering to try and play anymore. Glancing over your shoulder for a soft little moment to try and gauge if I'm close to either corner before pulling a breath in through my nose, eyes coming back to yours as you stare through me.

Almost thinking we breathed in at the same time, but not letting my brain start drawing hearts around you or anything. Nowhere near that headspace anyway. You step in and I push to step to the side. Ropes aren't really somewhere I'd click through on Zillow for where I want to live, I wouldn't even rent. Your long looping uppercut comes up along the side of my jaw, getting my face scrunched up again and not letting my brain remember I'm supposed to breathe out, instead replacing that briefly with the decision to step into you as you slip left. Curving my left fist into the outside of your right breast, and trying to get my head under your hook. Taking your forearm across the side of my head instead, and finally exhaling, deciding to set up shop down here in my crouch and throw a right cross down hard as I can along your navel. Trusting that I'm still close enough to the ropes that your shoulder won't dislodge my footing.

Your right uppercut sucks, plain and simple, as my body couldn't have been positioned in a more welcoming way for it. Feeling like I'm at an > angle because of it even as I hear your feet start to move and try to match as best I can, swiping a left-gloved hook shot out for the base of your right side ribs before I stand back up and press forward into you and reach my right arm out to loop along your guarding wrists. My brain ending up in a place where I want to be as inside your personal space bubble as I can, as my left stays free.

Joanna_Louvier: I think I remember hearing somewhere that you can tell a lot about a boxer, especially a high-level one, when their back is against the ropes. I’m realizing now, I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you on the ropes before. If I ever managed to put you there in our first fight, the multiple KO’s wiped my memory of it. And at first, it’s looking like as I launch my assault, there’s no way you’re going to rally psychologically in time to defend, let along mount a counteroffensive. Then, at the last second, as I’m about to step in, you get this… twinkle in your eye, or something… 

My uppercut just misses your chin as you manage to finally start predicting and step just a couple inches to your left, the leather of my green glove still dragging along your cheek and giving you a scrunched smirk as you move with me. I slip left, force of habit with my left hooks, and you use the moment as an opportunity to position yourself tactically, right up inside my guard… rolling under my hook and tagging the outer edge of my right breast with a sharp, punishing left hook of your own. “AghhFUHCK!!” It’s not the cleanest, as my forearm still brushes your head, but I’m impressed, to say the least. You’re just getting started though, and you use your crouched position perfectly, as I’m trying to course correct and turn left to stay with you, taking your right cross not quite flush against my navel, still managing to earn a “OOOUUHFFF!!!” And plenty of spittle as your brown leather hits that little open spot between my obliques and rectus abdominus…

But that doesn’t stop me from turning with you and leveling my right shoulder at your collarbone, arcing my right arm up like an excavator into the center of your abs, knowing in that moment, precisely what a punch like that is doing to your body. And even if that’s not our dynamic, I can’t help but get a little wet at the thought of it. I get checked harshly though, taking a lethally-placed but mercifully, slightly weakened left hook directly into my right lower ribs, right over the top of my fucking liver…. “OUGHHhhh” as I roll right, protecting my jaw as it’s still aching, and I don’t know how much more it can afford to take… Then, FWHAP “UGHHH!!!” your right hook shepherds out long enough to catch my ear, only partially obstructed by the side of my left glove… and then I’m leaning hard into the ropes, trying to find my feet again. Curling my core and bringing my elbows in tight, eyes on you, biting down on my mouthguard with a stoic gaze, trying to look tough and not panic.

Stacy_S: Mind starting to realize that this is going to be one of those times I just have to ride the waves and hold on, and do my best to stay on my board so I don't end up washed away. The ropes hosted you, then me, now you again.... Settling for about a half-second at most, pulling in a full, deep breath and pressing to hold it, wanting my insides to move back to their standard normal places while I stay to my full height after my right glove catches your ear. Not pulling that arm back in time to avoid being pulled into you as you lean hard into those ropes for a non-existent respite.

At least I want it to feel non-existent. Your body curls and my brain has me curl my right arm, bicep flexing to see if I can flatly pull your gloves and arms down away from you in the same motion as I return my right glove home. Knowing that someone like you doesn't need to try and look tough, but reading your eyes....twisting my feet into the canvas and pushing off of that as I swipe my left glove out for your forehead; angled down if I managed to get at least one of your gloves out of the way, and throwing a curled shot toward your eyebrow instead. Right glove dropping to try and come up between whatever guard you had and clip your chin with an uppercut as my left comes back and shoots out for your bottom lip.... feeling my feet slide toward you but not consciously aware of it until I think I feel one of my knees brush into yours.

Blindly deciding to try and ride you into the ropes and club your left breast with my right glove if there was any semblance of a runway leading my fist there.... eyes as far as I know not having left yours at any point since you hit the ropes. Instinct, reflex, whatever....

Joanna_Louvier: Your right throws me hard against the ropes, hard enough that even the cold chain link of the cage kisses my right shoulder. I turtle up, but as I’m trying to regroup and figure out what to do next, I realize I’ve picked up a hitchhiker. Your right forearm hooking behind my left wrist as you pull yourself into me… whether or not it’s intentional, I can’t be sure. You nearly crash into me, and I can’t stop myself from wishing you had. You try to pull down my left from guard with your right… and although I could fight you on that, it would be a waste of energy, so I try to pull it down into a Philly shell instead, turning right and covering my body as I bring my right hand up to my jaw. When your left comes in, though, there’s nowhere for me to go, and pushing back into the cage only gets me so far…

… And not fast enough, in any case, to keep my left eyebrow from eating a downward-curling left cross—POW—that opens a nasty cut right above it… I don’t feel the cut at first, but I do feel my head snapping back and the cage biting into my tight braids as I try to get you back in my sights… thinking you might go low and bringing both hands up as I squat and try to roll left… BAP! Your right pops me under my chin, “URGHH!!!” taking me back to standing straight up in an instant, spittle and blood flying now as my left eyebrow starts to weep and send spots of red all over… fuck… I must have rolled right into that… then before I can process that and refocus my eyes on you—WHUP—your left comes back in again with another hard cross that punches through my raised guard and blasts my lower lip, flattening my face and testing my jaw as you open another cut and my lower lip begins to swell and bleed—albeit, in a way that is pretty hot, I might add.

I’m taking damage, and could take a lot more if I can’t get out of here soon… and you aren’t done yet… you’re trying to step in closer and get right on top of me. And the worst part is, I’m loving it. This is not an adaptive response. At least, I don’t think so. Who cares? Feeling your right knee brush the inside of my left makes me want to yield to you, makes me want to just throw my gloves up behind my head and let you take me… but I’m far from done, and anyway, if I did that, then I’d cease to be who I am to you.

So as your right is coming for my left breast, I punch back, hoping to light up your right temple with a hard left hook… a better option for me than a jab since I can’t get much power from my back foot here on the ropes. Then a fucking defiant right uppercut at your navel, followed by a fast right hook at your chin… to remind you who it is you’re working right now. And with that in mind, I try to wrap my left leg around your right hip as you push in on me, almost inviting you to press in further…

Stacy_S: My entire body shuddering and shaking on the back end of punches that see my Huntress busted open.....your eyebrow and your lip..... and by this point it's so fucking hard to have any voice in my head telling myself or reminding myself that this is another ebb or flow and that you're still very much here and a threat and I am not out of danger yet. But for the moment, god this feels good.... And yeah, you do look fairly hot, all trapped Huntress in the ropes eating an endless feast of leather. But I know those eyes. I see them when I close mine.

I'm swinging for that last little tossed-in bonus right hook at the end of the flurry that got me so much to stare at...and swoon and fawn over mentally, but that's later. And that's when you rock back in toward me and rock me with your left fist. Seeing more stars than are probably in the sky as I was all-in on being as close to you as I could be; that coming back to bite me as it tends to.... Blinking my eyes clear and going to whip that right glove up from your breast in a flailed uppercut to your chin. Feeling your right glove smack into my core and then do the same bit up on my chin. Lost in trying to decipher which of the fists in front of me are yours and mine as your leg wraps in, I breathe out fully and just dive into the ropes, and you, to put the onus of making sense of all of this on you, seeing if I can press in and get you into the turnbuckle pads before either of us do much else other than this.

Joanna_Louvier: Your right hook bites into the side of my left tit, actually flattening it and dragging the soft tissue across my upper ribs… “Nnaagh!!” Thankfully, at the same time, I hear, and feel, my left hook hitting home, hard, looking through my blood-drenched left eye and seeing your eyes bulge as you take it, and fire back… your right quickly coming back home as my right upper thumps your navel, only to spring back up under my chin and SNAP my head back again as I’m sending my right hook curling in sharply at your chin—fuck, Stacy… fuck you, Stacy… I fucking love you…—of course, all four of the fists are yours, because I am yours, and my fists exist for you, here, now, in this moment. Just as yours exist for me. But right now, you’re pressing in on me, and I’m coiling around you, and I’m up against the ropes, bending the cage wall behind me, no place I’d rather be in this moment.

I pull you in deeper into me… left glove trying to wrap behind your head as I dive headfirst into the left side of your neck, more of a bloody kiss than a clinch… as your knee digs into my swelling clit through my satin trunks… “Fuck, Stace…” not missing the opportunity for a second to try for another right uppercut at your left ribs, of course, as you start to drag me along the ropes, to my left, towards a neutral corner. Resisting your charge… but only partially.

Stacy_S: We're a mess, that much I don't really need spelled out for me beyond the crowd not having the foggiest clue which moan swoon purr groan whine squawk or howl belongs to which of us. You're an inch taller but we're both blonde, you're in green and I'm getting my shiny new browns splattered more and more red the longer and longer this goes on. My brain finally manages to settle on one thing....no small feat with all that is happening along the ropes.... hearing the cage and somewhat being reminded it was even a thing.... Not having any idea how far from a corner we are, I just keep driving my legs toward it, even if only just to add to all of this with another detail, another layer..... Steps slowing as your glove pelts my ribs....kinda. Brain caught by you diving into the side of my neck, painting me deeply in a new place, given the eyebrow and lip and.….

Letting a full breath out mostly to settle my brain but also from that uppercut, I go to take a step and realize my knee was....stuck....between your legs. Not putting two and two together for a long while, given your voice in my ear cut any chance of that happening. I flinch at a cameraphone flash literally right at my eyes and seem to clear up a little. Breathing in short, choppy half-breaths as I leave my head where it is but pull my eyes to see you, face burrowed into my neck. Home.....just like you said.... Your moderately carried, coiled-around-me body hits the corner, and my right glove pulls free as best it can and goes to just plow straight into your left breast. From this close and this unplanned, there's not nearly enough wolf teeth behind it. But you'll feel it...and you'll feel me trying to lean you into the corner and get my left free.

Joanna_Louvier: You walk me, one soaking wet step at a time, back towards the neutral corner, as I grind my hot, engorged mound against your thigh. My breath hot on your collarbone… I turn into you and plant a blood soaked mouthguard kiss on your carotid artery, even biting down just a little, albeit, harmlessly. Soon enough, I feel my back hit the cool, cushioned padding of the corner post. In my mind, I know this is bad, from a competition standpoint. In my heart, however, nothing matters now, because I’m home. And in my guts… I find myself wanting to be backed into that corner, desperately wanting it. To be close to you… so close that even your hardest punches can’t push me away… in fact, here, they only bring us closer. But I’m not about to stop fighting you. I just want to enjoy this moment right now for what it is. A huntress and her wolf, reunited in the woods, at last…

Your first order of business upon arrival is letting me know who’s in charge. And honestly, I don’t mind it one bit. The pain in my left breast as you plow your right glove into it yet again—“Uuuurrrgh!!”—only serves to further stimulate my arousal, as the surging adrenaline makes all of the pain fade to the background, at least for the moment… Meanwhile, I’m channeling my aggression into your thigh… working myself against you, dripping honey all over your leg as I try to see what I can get away with, as the Ref attempts to do his due diligence… and from what I can discern, he seems to be backing away, pretending not to recognize what is taking place before him… “Ohhhh… Nnffff…” turtling up, seeing the way you’re winding up your left… Knowing you like to head-hunt, and tucking my chin into your body as I pull my right elbow in tight over my ribs and liver, trying to deny you access to the vital targets, hoping you’ll just be here with me and work me, as I work myself on you…

Stacy_S: Oh god it's happening again...My brain is being pulled from lighting you up, by feeling you ride along my thigh like a playground slide...my right glove stayed in against your breast for a longer moment or three on followthrough because of the distraction, but the ref backing away lets me know all I need to about right now.... Swallowing and shuddering just enough that you can probably feel it as you cut off all the easy 'escape routes' for my gloves. Knowing that you know I'm less fond about perfect-shelled 'targets' but also knowing that you know that enough to not be perfectly shelled. Brain catching up after admiring the view and loading my left arm up as I was before....

Going at your breasts again as your turtle just leaves them out in the open..... right-left there to see what sort of notes the Huntress in front of me will play in her live concert before I sidle in a little and see about going on more of a tour while you keep yourself up against the corner and don't let me lash out at the tropey spots to pound a hottie.... Right glove sent curling into your left oblique before I see about lining up a short little flurry of heavy-handed slugs into your midsection....properly wanting a short-lived little heavy bag bodywork session if you're just going to stand there and let me eat..... Eyes mostly staying on yours, even as my thigh becomes less and less dry, and more and more alluringly warm..... Not even remembering about the corner, just lost...

<Joanna_Louvier> “Mmmmffff…” I almost try to bite my lip but am reminded of my mouthguard as I draw in a breath, chin still glued to your clavicle, knowing I will be losing that breath in no time, I feel like I am strapping myself in for the ride of a lifetime, one that just might kill me… But… I really can’t stop now… grinding steadily, my pulsing rhythm marching that of your fists as you POP my perky breasts as they hang suspended in front of you, due to the clinch… “Ugh!!… Unffshh!!…” the pain is stabbing, the swelling aches, but the arousal continues to build… you send your right for my left obliques… “Ugh!” That’s just a tease… I know you hit harder than— and then it comes… You press in with your shoulder and fucking LAY INTO my guts with savage uppercuts… “Argh!… Ouff! Ughnn!!! UOugh!!! Auughh!!! Aahhahaugh!!!” My left eye, noticing your eyes gazing down into it…
I suck in desperate air as you rechamber… then quickly expel again as your fists curl inward and upward, fucking me hard… “Ehgh!! Aghh!! NGHH—nnnuhhh… Hnnnff… AGH!! UGH!!!” You’re… letting me breathe… We find a rhythm… as my moans of pleasure begin to become indistinguishable from my grunts of pain… “Mhnnhh… Ughh!!! Noohhh… Aaauhh!!! Nyeaaahhhh… UGHHHH…

aaaaaahhhhhhhhWWWOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!” Finally, I shriek, or howl, as your gloves beat a hard, heavy rhythm into my core, as my grinding along your thigh finally works me over the edge, feeling your fists penetrating me, driving into me, glove-fucking me to a finish… my body curls tightly into you, and I pant the rest of the way through your onslaught as I cum and squirt hot honey all down your leg, between our feet, mixing with the blood dripping from our faces as I reach for yours and look to pull you in for a hot, orgasm-dazed kiss…

<Stacy_S> The reason I prefer Huntress targets over leather-clad sacks hanging from a chain on the ceiling can now be seen - quite clearly given the screens all around....and felt - if by nothing more than what your body looks like, regardless of how hot and fiery you started the night by being..... And heard - pretty clearly given the impact sounds my gloves have been making, even if the sounds you were making soon drowned them out. And then you howl. And my legs go soft. Falling entirely into your new corner, no longer neutral, as you kiss me.....Gloves trying to treat your breasts like speedbags though that's just an anticipatory afterglow reaction preloading as your gloves are no longer covering you up. Your blood on my tongue for the first time in months nearly pushes me...but I push up just a little and try to present as the one standing while you melt, even though I know damn well that's not entirely accurate. Breathing into and through you as I try to get my brain back online.....feeling like I'm going to be in this corner for a while still as you hold me by the head. The part of my brain that'd point out this is the most you've done with your gloves in a minute is silenced by your tongue as I lean hard into you and your cornered frame

<Joanna_Louvier> Sucking in the taste of your tongue, your mouth, breathing your air, devouring your essence as my body merges with yours… I have to say, this was not what I was expecting to happen, but once you got me on the ropes, I found myself wanting it more and more. But I hope you don’t mistake this sexual show of vulnerability for weakness… sure, my legs might feel like jelly, and I might be overcome by an overwhelming sense of serenity… but I still want to return the favor, and I know I have a long way to go from here… Leaning back now, uncoiling my leg from yours, and bringing my foot back down to the canvas. My lips coming back from yours for a moment as my eyes lock onto yours as you drive into me… in a matter of seconds, I’m trying to ascertain your intentions, trying to predict your next move. Starting to pull my right glove back to my body, eyes searching yours… wanting to be ready for… whatever is coming next.

<Stacy_S> I'm far gone from thinking I know what tonight is anymore. From the locker room door to you losing your balance to your face landing somewhere I'm half-minded to bring you again, to this being how me getting you roped and cornered went, to your eyebrow and lip, to me orgasming in the middle of a boxing match in front of so many eyes and cameras... I have relegated myself to going along for the ride. You peeling away and off from me after what feels like a half hour of the two of us being the same person... Eyes tracking your right glove, reflexively curling my left up at your cheek as I backpedal out of your new neutral corner and piece together what's in front of me, and around us. A full breath for the first time in a long while as I just sort of stare, mostly.

<Joanna_Louvier> As you break away and start to backpedal, I start to notice a slick substance coating my right leg… which was situated between your legs as you were working my body just moments ago… I was so overcome with my own little corner of oblivion that I hardly noticed the state you were in… Before you’re out of earshot, mutter, in a tone that’s just loud enough to be audible for you over the din of the arena… “You too?” And then a bloody wink. Wiping the back of my left glove across my forehead, feeling the searing pain start to flare as my raw, wounded eyebrow is disturbed. Deep breathing, trying to replenish my energy, knowing you and I are far from done, even after all this bloodshed. Round 2, then… I think to myself, laughing quietly at how cliched that sounds in my own head… raising my gloves, stepping out of the corner, shuffling to my left, circling my way over to where you stand, waiting for me.

Outro: