Female Boxing Federation

16:50 <Valenzuela> The Eight Limbs Lounge in Thailand is no ordinary sports bar. It’s a den of adrenaline, sweat, and raw competition, where the annual TOUGH WOMAN MUAY THAI KICKBOXING TOURNAMENT draws warriors from all over, each one hungry for victory. The ring sits center stage, mutlicolored ropes gleaming in the lights. People now buzzing around, drinking plenty and looking to place bets after the fighters are announced.

16:51 <Valenzuela> DING! DING! DING! The bell from the preceding fight rings early, too early, so can only mean a knockout happened. The roar of the crowd confirms it. I smirk, knowing I’ll be in there soon, and a knock on my door confirms this as one of the barmen-“refs” leans in. “You’re up!” Barefoot, I step into the hallway, nerves and adrenaline mixing in my veins.

16:53 <Valenzuela> The announcer, a wiry Thai man with a thick accent, leans into the mic: "Radees and gentremen! Our sekon' fight tonigh'......Carra Valenwuela from Meh-hee-ko versus Tasa Torraclane from the You-Ess-Ayy!" I can barely understand him, but I freeze for half a second. Tasha Torracrane. I know that name. She’s a beast a beast in the Muay thai ring! Maybe if I play it smart, I can use this to build my reputation, at her expense, of course! “Firt to enter wing is Carla Valenwuela. She way in at 125 lbs and stand 5 ft 3 in big, and she 30 year odd”

16:54 <Valenzuela> I shake my head at the butchered English, but more towards the ring and up the steps, gliding between the ropes, slapping my gloves together, eager for the fight to start. The mic then blares out again…“Net to enter wing is Tasa Torraclane. She way in at 134 lbs and stand 5 ft 8 in big, and she 29 year odd” . I look around, eager to get my first look of the chica that I’ll be trading blows with.

19:54 <Tasha_Torracrane> I sit with my eyes closed in my changing room, focusing inward. Negotiating. Letting the deep rumble of the humid atmosphere coax the beast from her lair. Remember, you get to keep what you kill... I'm already dressed in my signature golden regalia – a metallic golden sports bra with matching trunks that complemented my caramel complexion, black foot wraps that support my ankles and arches, and my lustrous 8oz Windy gloves to complete the ensemble. Once I put these gloves on, Tasha was all but gone. The human side of me served as a passenger to the Tigress as she came out to play.

19:55 <Tasha_Torracrane> The crowd is on their feet at the conclusion of the previous match and I receive my signal. I rise to my feet and take a deep breath, finishing my mental preparation just in time to hear the announcer rattling off my name and stats over the speakers. My white mouthguard settles into place as I make my way towards the ring, rolling beneath the bottom rope to enter. And then, I catch sight of you – my opponent. You certainly look impressive; fine lines of definition betrayed your dedication to your training, while the resolute gleam in your eyes told the tale of someone ready to fight. Good... I'd be disappointed if my opponent was just cowed by hearing my name... I rolled my shoulders out, bouncing on the balls of my feet a few times before my eyes lock onto you fiercely, acquiring my target for the night.

20:35 <Tasha_Torracrane> I move to meet you center ring, getting a closer look at you as we size each other up. I'm already analyzing the possibilities, noticing the not insignificant height difference between us. I can already imagine you trying your best to get inside, past my longer limbs where you can work at your preferred pace. If only you knew the danger behind that...But don't worry. I'll teach you. The ref motions for us to touch gloves, and I note your indulgent smirk. "Confident, aren't we...?" I murmur, raising my gloves to lightly tap yours before watching you back away to your designated corner while I do the same. I take one more deep breath before settling into my natural orthodox stance: fists raised, palms out, my left foot just in front of my right with my leading heel floating just off of the mat. "Time to go..."

20:44 <Valenzuela> DING!!! DING!!! DING!!! That familiar sound: the bell, the signal that fuckin’ hell is about to break loose. I explode from my corner, pure aggression taking hold of me, like a raging furnace inside of me. From the very start of Round 1, I need to establish that this is my ring! You’re only a temporary intruder, a mere interloper. With a five-inch height difference, I know exactly where I need to be…..inside. I can’t afford to let you dictate the pace with your reach, to pick me apart with jabs and kicks. FUCK NO!!!!!. The closer I get, the more damage I can inflict, and the sooner I start breaking you down, the better. You come out of your corner, but I’m closing the distance, stepping in aggressively. The second I’m within striking range, I snap my right push kick straight toward your belly button, aiming to knock you back, maybe disrupt your balance. I hoping to surprise you with an early move, trying to send my foot under your elbows. Whether or not it lands clean, it’s not my only intent, it’s just the opening move. The moment my foot retracts, I explode off my back leg, pushing off hard to leap forward, my right gloved fist going out as an overhand bomb heading towards your chin! There is no circling, no trying to feel you out, just raw aggression on my part.

23:39 <Valenzuela> My right foot fires out, aiming for your belly button, almost gleeful at the thought of my kick sinking deep into your abs, but……… CRACK! Pain explodes through my shin as your elbow crashes down, while your knee shoots up into my calf like a goddamn battering ram, jamming my kick mid-strike. FUCK! My calf screams in pain, but I don’t have time to process the pain. I yank my leg back and launch myself forward, pushing off my back foot, right fist cocked, an overhand bomb aimed for your fuckin’ chin. But SHIT!!!!!! you're spinning! Your left elbow carves through the air like a fuckin’ blade, cutting over my right arm, going for my fuckin’ head! My instincts scream, WEAVE NOW!!!!! and I do, ducking low and slipping my head to my left. Your elbow still clips the side/top of my forehead as I move, a sharp graze that sends a pulse of pain flashing through my skull. But fuck the pain. In spite of my recklessness, I'M INSIDE. With my head rising, I fire back instantly, a slicing left elbow cutting upward, aiming to slash your chin or rake across your cheekbone before you fully recover from the spin. Immediately following this, I try to reach my right glove behind your neck to hold you, trying to send a really brutal left knee up into your lower rib cage or maybe even your liver!

06:46 <Tasha_Torracrane> Your reflexes are honed, narrowly avoiding the worst of my counter by slipping just under the line of fire. Still, you didn't avoid my swiping claw completely; I could feel the satisfying flash of contact of my elbow along the fringe of your forehead. But that's not enough to deter you from your hard charging game plan - a fact I find out as I complete my spin and your elbow comes screaming upwards. I see it before landfall, but I only have time to sway back to try and mitigate the impact, leaving you to earn a glancing vertical slash along my right cheekbone, drawing a fresh line of scarlet over my features. "Kssssh...!" A hiss emanates from behind my mouthguard as your glove hooks around my neck, aiming to pull me down - into a hard knee, no doubt. We're just in the opening seconds, and you're swinging for the fences...No jabs, just bombs...Trying to end things quickly? You had power and tenacity, certainly, but you were deeply reckless. As you pull me down and your knee comes up, I twist my hips towards my left to clear the strike while bringing my right elbow down, driving the point of my sharpness into the top of your left thigh muscle. Let's see how you fight when I crush your weapons... As I pivot to evade your blow, I spin hard, using your unbalanced posture and half grip on my neck to my advantage as I look to position you towards the corner where I can show you just how much trouble you're in for engaging me so closely...

07:54 <Valenzuela> FUCK! My left elbow just barely scrapes your cheek, not a clean hit to cause real damage! I feel your body twist, shifting, and before I can fully rip my knee up into your ribs.......AGGGHHHHH!!! I let out a screech as a sharp, nasty pain stabs through my quad as your elbow drives down like a fucking hammer into my quad! My leg instantly tenses, a deep, throbbing ache blooming in my muscle, and I realise I need to get away from you for a reset. I grit my teeth, working through the pain, my grip on your neck tightening despite the shock shooting up my leg. You’re moving, twisting into the motion, using my half-secured grip to pivot me toward the fuckin’ corner. My instinct and reflexes tell not to fight the twist directly, that’d just get me thrown harder. Instead, I roll with it, turning my body into the momentum, but at the last second, I throw my weight downward, yanking my right hand off your neck and shoving both my forearms against your shoulders, trying to shove you off-balance as I drop lower. If I can force you to stumble back even half a step, it’ll give me a split-second to slide around you to retreat to a better position, before you can trap me against the ropes. If that works, if I create even the smallest opening, I’m snapping a short, brutal right hook straight for your jaw line as I slip past, and get reset. If I can’t knee the fuck out of you right now, I’ll adapt with boxing.

05:06 <Tasha_Torracrane> I can’t help but feel a flutter of warmth in my stomach as you let out a pained wail when my elbow finds its place lancing into your thigh. That’s right. Take your punishment… Your reckless nature was giving me such delicious opportunities to not only counter you, but work towards slowing you down. You were wildly aggressive, pushing the pace as soon as the round opened - it could be hypothesized that you were using that spice to cover up a lacking long game. If one could weather the storm, you’d rage until you burned yourself out. It’s a viable strategy…Something to keep in mind. For now, though, it made perfect sense to break that rhythm and slow you down. You managed to free yourself from my rough spin before pushing your weight against my forearms, looking to bully your way into a new position. “What’s wrong?” I tease a bit, stepping back as you slip past and create a pocket of space, even managing to score a solid right hook that sends my head briefly snapping to my right. “Nngh…Good punch…” I smirk, making a show of turning my head back towards you as you reset. Letting out another slow breath, I retake my stance, letting the gravity of the moment sink in as I patiently inch closer, closing in with dangerous intent…

18:03 <Tasha_Torracrane> There's a short moment of ceasefire between us. I imagine that you're using your newly earned space to consider your options; up to now, your hard, pressuring game plan has led you into trouble in our exchanges, but I imagine that landing that sniping punch on your way out of the clinch might've bolstered your otherwise shaken confidence a bit. You could get yours, sure. But I'm sure that the pain in your legs was a reminder that your rushing came with a price that promised to rise higher. My lead foot slides forward ever so slightly, and I see your expression soften a bit – almost as if you were uncertain about what to do next. Don't worry. Let me take the wheel. Your lead hand flicks out, almost as if you were quickly measuring your space, but the subtle movement of my front foot served a purpose – allowing my upper body to stay in place and feign an inch or two of distance that wasn't actually present. And in a close range, pitched fight like this, an inch or two was a world of difference. Hm, testing my twitch reflexes now? Too late to feel me out... Instead of biting on the quick feint by guarding up or parrying, I instead spring off of my back foot, closing the distance in a flash as I thrust my hips into a lunging right knee, aiming to blast straight into your sternum. “Haa-aish!”

05:46 <Tasha_Torracrane> Maybe it was your instinct that gave you the wherewithal to react defensively. Your fighting experience coming into play when you were under pressure. In any case, you twist just in time to avoid my wrecking ball of a knee, a blazing hot brushing being the only contact to give you an idea of what kind of force I brought to bear. What's more, you switch back into offense admirably, firing off that honed right hook once more and finding your target along the left side of my jaw with a crisp smack of black, glossy leather against caramel skin. “Nnnff...!” You got me rather nicely that time, taking advantage of my shifted base to get your shot off. There's that lovely power again...You like that right hook, huh? What a power puncher... But you're not done yet – after snapping my head to the side in a spray of sweat, you shift and twist, coiling up like you were ready to spring into something heavy from your left side. You'd proven before that you love going for big shots when you have the opportunity to – one could even assume that you were looking for a blow to my liver for cataclysmic effect. I let out a sharp, hissing exhale as I twist away from your left hand while dropping my right elbow, taking your beautifully savage strike on my folded arm and shoulder rather than somewhere critical. “Eeysh...!” Rather than answer back immediately with an uppercut of my own, I take a half second to shuffle towards my left to square back up with your stance before slashing in low with a left hook aimed at your obliques, followed by a swift level change to target your head with a hunting hook on the same side, and finishing the flurry with my right leg lashing into a low roundhouse aimed to sting the inner thigh of your softened left leg.

08:27 <Valenzuela> My right hook lands flush, SMACK!!!!! right across your jaw, and I catch the way your face snaps to the side, it was almost like a sucker punch given you could not see it coming. But hey, that ain’t my problem. My knuckles tingle through the wrap and glove. FUCK that one felt good. And I’m not gonna let up. I twist in and drive a left uppercut toward your gut, but you read it well. My glove slams hard into your elbow and shoulder instead of soft target, and the jolt shoots back up through my arm. SHIT!!!!. That was a waste of energy! You covered that well, but you know I was trying to cut you in half with it, don't you?. You don’t fire back right away, smart, you’re squaring back up, adjusting. Gives me a heartbeat to reset my stance too, though, bring my guard back high. Then it comes a left hook low. THUMP!!!! Right into my obliques. I grunt, bracing for the impact, tightening my core, it's a mean punch, but I'll live, I keep my guard high, chin down. You don't pull that hand back, you loop it back up toward my head. My boxer’s instinct kicks in, I raise my right forearm and parry, redirecting your glove outward and now my right is inside your guard…..guess what happens next bitch! I step in tight, slide inside your guard, and unload a right overhand bomb straight toward your nose, a shot meant to rearrange faces. My body twists into it, footwork snapping clean as I invade your space. That’s when your leg starts coming up, trying to whip that low roundhouse at my inner thigh. You’re too close now, chica and have no angle, no torque. Your shin grazes my outer thigh because of my step in towards you, nothing more than a sting, and with that leg still lifted, I see my chance. I shift my weight forward and hook my right foot behind your left ankle, trying to sweep you clean off your feet and put your ass on the canvass.

10:27 <Tasha_Torracrane> We’re dancing in closer now, breathing growing hot and heavy as we foxtrot for position. I get the privilege of scything away at your right side with a withering hook to the body, but you take it with such grace and grit. Mmm, just like a pressure fighter. I certainly had the range advantage on you, but I could admit that I was getting drawn into the addictive, frenetic heat of engaging up close and personal. We could feel each other’s breath as we move, hear every shift, every brush of leather against skin, silk against silk. Delicious… I shift upwards to give your head a quick ringing only to feel your black glove casting my gold one aside, showing another shade of your extensive exposure to boxing. Ooh yes, you’re in your element, aren’t you? Swarming, throwing punches…Almost too much so… You move in with expertly crafted footwork, coming in tight to my body to claim the lane your parry created. But I know what you want. I’ve tasted that gorgeous black leather, and I can smell its scent in your movement. You want that big right hand. Had this been purely a boxing match, you’d almost certainly catch me - but this is Muay Thai. And while you’ve got dangerous fists, you’re contending against the keenest claws and fangs… As you step inside to throw that intense bomb, my right arm comes up between us in a slashing upwards elbow, taking the shortest path to scream towards the point of your chin while your right arcs from above, still dropping in hard. But, instead of finding my nose it finds the space between my head and left shoulder, roughly clubbing against my scapulae - enough to make me stumble, but only just. I still try to follow up with my low assault, but your aggressive footwork works by design to deny me the target. In an instant, you execute a well timed sweep, striking my ankle and breaking my posture enough to actually send me tumbling to the canvas. A sweep? That was sneaky…

10:32 <Tasha_Torracrane> I’m just a little embarrassed to be brought down onto my ass from such a simple trick, my cheeks the faintest shade of pink as I take just a second in my seated position to take a breath. Okay, okay. You’re adjusting well…But I am too. I execute a backwards roll on the ground before rising up to my full height, a smirk on my lips as we catch sight of each other once more and I beckon you back in with my right glove. It’s time to stop fucking around…Be devoured.

11:17 <Valenzuela> I step in, coiled like a spring, loaded up to drop that right overhand dead center on your smug little nose, maybe even bust it open for good. But AGGGHH, CRACK! An elbow splits the air, fast, sharp, hot. It’s not like a punch. It’s heavier and meaner. Your blade of a right elbow slashes up under my chin and catches, not clean, but enough. My brain snaps white for a split second, like someone flicked the lights off and on again. My head jerks back, teeth crashing hard into my mouthguard. The bomb I was throwing misses wildly, crashing somewhere behind your shoulder, totally harmless. A useless fucking punch. But then instinct takes the wheel. I hook your ankle and sweep you off your feet, dumping you flat on your fucking ass. It might not have been clean or pretty, but it stops you and saves me from a real beating. That elbow rattled my skull, my jaw aches. My legs feel just a little less sure. This fight’s turning into something dangerous. I take a step back, blinking hard, shaking the blur from my eyes, trying to see you. I want to see that look on your face, after hitting the canvas. I would smirk, but I can’t just yet. That elbow turned everything bitter in my mouth. Clearly I'm in deep with one wicked lady. And then you're up again, smooth as silk, rolling back to your feet . I don’t wait, I wanna catch you before you have much time to think, I surge forward plant my feet, and I rip a left hook toward your ribs to draw your guard low, baiting you for a reaction, and then twist my hips and unleash a right uppercut towards your chin, trying to rip it right down the middle of your guard.

13:09 <Tasha_Torracrane> You might’ve put a pause in my flow after landing that cheeky sweep, but by no means am I deterred. I find my feet quickly, and as expected, you’re on top of me once more, displaying that boxers’ tenacity. There’s no doubting that you’re tough - a bull like you has to be. But you might be too tough for your own good. You’re chasing the dragon - risking it all to get that big hit. That shot that puts me on my heels, sets momentum in your favor and leads to you snowballing me down. You’d take it all if it meant getting that opportunity…But of course, I had no intention of letting you have that sweet payoff. I can hear your breath as you surge in, feel your heat as you settle into the pocket, looking to make me taste your sexy leather once more. Right there… As you set your feet to fire off that hook, my arms come forward to ensnare you, my gloves coming up over top of your clavicle and around the back of your neck as my hips twist to drag you off balance, generating force for what looks like a vicious left knee to your midsection. In truth, I’m feinting, looking to draw your urgency to defending the knee only to plant my raised foot into the canvas to pivot into a hellish overhand elbow slash from the right, my left arm serving to hold you in place as I punish the side of your head. “Rrr-aish…!”

18:12 <Valenzuela> My clinch was desperation, pure and simple... not some slick move I learned in the gym. My body just screamed to survive. My ribs throbbed like broken drums, liver throbbing under my skin like something about to rupture. You moved with me like you’d choreographed this beatdown in advance, graceful and cruel all at once. I barely register your weight shifting before……CRACK! A left uppercut bursts up between us, detonating under my chin like a bomb. My teeth slam together into the mouth guard so hard my jaw feels like it’s been nailed shut, and my vision just flares white……..bright, and total pain. My neck jerks back, spine stiffening. For a second I see stars... or lights... or fuck…. maybe just you, rising above me like some violent goddess. Then—BOOM! Your right golden gloved fist crashes down at a brutal angle, and my knees buckle…..not from choice…..my body’s shutting down the factory and flicking off the lights. I go lurching backwards, barely managing to throw a glove up to catch myself on the ropes, as my back presses deeply into the top rope. The canvas tilts, and sways, but I hang in there, even with my right side’s spasming. My brain’s scrambling to find a way out of this, for what to do, my body looking for footing, for anything. But still…..somehow…..I raise my gloves come up. Crooked. Shaky. But they’re up.

03:30 <Tasha_Torracrane> My punches land like cosmic impacts, a perfect marriage of form and fury as they pound away at you. My senses are wide open, piqued with every morsel of vivid information fed to them – the sight of suffering etching its way into the deepest reaches of your features, the scent and taste of sweat mixing with blood as each bomb sends your essence bursting into the air, the sound of leather-cloaked punishment slapping combinations against skin... It's all a delicacy, and I'm fucking ravenous. I don't strike you as your knees buckle and you reel back – if for no other reason than to ensure that I allow you to fall unimpeded if you find your equilibrium lacking. But instead, you're hung up on the ropes, hanging ever so desperately, clinging to the last bits of consciousness. If this were a sanctioned fight, they'd probably stop this. Your team would say that you'd taken too much damage, and they'd protect you when you weren't capable of protecting yourself. But it's not sanctioned... Here, now, you're in your own hands. Which, in this case, is to say that you're in my hands. The only person here to show you the precise boundaries of your limits was me. And I'd make it my business to make it clear as day. As you shakily raise your hands, I skip into the pocket while thrusting my hips forward, looking to lance between your rattled hands with a springing rear teep aimed at your solar plexus. A hard kick, but designed more to bounce you against the ropes than impale your innards. You need something a bit more direct... As you rebound towards me, my left foot comes up to hook around the back of your head, seeking to pull you into me as I leap into a rising knee with my right leg – effectively trapping your head in a brutal pincer attack as my knee screams into the middle of your face. The bite of a golden Tigress...

08:26 <Valenzuela> Sanctioned Muay thai fights are about respect, but in these unsanctioned fights, it’s about giving the crowd what they want, brutality, and the humiliation of a fighter through physical conquest. I’ve raised my fists shakily and my ears are buzzing as the crowd smells blood, shouting hysterically in unison FIGHT!!!!!FIGHT!!!!!FIGHT!!!! A ref would have stopped the fight now, and declared a TKO in a licensed fight, but this ain’t one of those. There’s a high-pitched ringing in my ears, like someone struck a tuning fork against my skull and left it humming. I can barely see through the sweat and swelling around my eye. My ribs feel like they’ve been cracked open with a crowbar, my liver is making me feel nauseous, but I’m still standing, barely , gloves raised, trembling, crooked. My lungs wheeze like I’m breathing through a straw. I should go down. I should just fold, lie down. But Mexicana pride won’t let me won’t quit. I can still turn this around, but then she comes, Tasha, graceful and terrifying. Your hips flash forward BOOM!!!! …..your rear foot drives op between my tits. It doesn’t shatter me, but it hurls me violently back against the ropes, bouncing me like a doll. I’m dazed, suspended, helpless as I’m launched backwards, and then the bending of the top rope is so great it hurls me towards you, and you know I’m coming at you fast. The left foot comes up, wrapping around the back of my head like a chain, strong muscles yanking me even more forward and down....into CRACK!!! a right knee that detonates against my face. For the second time, I’m propelled backwards into the ropes, only this time, as the ropes launch me towards my opponent, my knees are buckling, and I’m fucking collapsing. I’m gonna face plant on the canvass. Everything happens so fast, it takes a moment for my brain to register; a split second before everything begins to go blank, for my brain to bounce inside my skull for that cerebral concussion that fight fans

16:58 <Tasha_Torracrane> I'm sure the crowd is on their feet by now, their frenzied bloodlust railing hard against the barriers like rushing waters being held back by a dam. But my attention is turned inward, invested purely in the tactility of the finish. I can feel it all – my knee breaching skin and bowing bone, features being reshaped and redrawn like mountain paths after a sudden cataclysm, the gushing of crimson meeting my contact as if I'd struck a hidden vein of pure red jasper... I manage to disentangle my legs from your head and land in a crouching position, giving me a lovely view of your vacant gaze from below in your last moments of being upright. As I rise to my full height you make your descent, sinking into the nether, all manner of hostility and pride drained from your form as you greet the unforgiving canvas. For a brief moment, I stand over you, looming, my features wreathed in shadow as I examine the carnage I've wrought. I didn't need an official confirmation to know that you weren't getting up. No count on Earth would be slow enough for you to beat. I close my eyes, feeling the buzzing sensation of victory welling up in my nerves, but also, something else. The beast is well-fed. Sated, at least for now... And so, it sleeps off its latest meal. I open my eyes in my more human aspect, and remember that I am but a small part of this dance. Disregarding you would be disregarding what we represent at this moment, and that's infinitely worse than any defeat. As the official goes about their job, I lower myself down into a kneeling position, my hands in front of my bowed head, almost as if I'm praying for your safety…