Interracial Nude Boxing

"Ten...eleven...twelve....", the audience counted along with a rhythmic clash of leather against skin. It was a melody many in the crowd had grown accustomed to. In truth it was why they kept paying the ludicrous price of ten thousand dollars a seat. Having their senses tantalized by an orchestral performance unlike any other. Two performers entered to raucous applause. Their previous duets with others having preceded them...even when their past partners had been forcefully retired thanks to the crescendo of those past collaborations. Surely this would be much the same or better than the last crimson tinged ballad. And...it had been.

The two women within the ring had be resolute in their beliefs that they were the better woman, fighter and race. They had entered the fight wholly believing that their foe was inferior to them in every way. But that was not enough to bring so many sheep dressed in their finest garbs, into the den of wolves. No. They could see any combination of those things in official fights. Paltry, dreary and frankly banal acts, that left those yearning for more, empty. These women had yearned for more and in doing so had entered a realm that wished for less. Less sportsmanship, less civility, less shame and less mercy. 

The trappings of an official fight were still there. Boxing gloves, boxing boots and mouthguards. But there was little else. No sports bras  or even just bras to hide their engorged or enhanced bosoms. No boxing trunks, tights or thongs to protect their privates from the engross public. No, these women fought nude. Toned and muscled bodies collided in brutal and bloody ballads, leaving one woman, battered, bruised...barely breathing. 

That was what the viewers were now witnessing, as some of them barely managed to hold up the transparent, plastic tarp to protect them from a smattering of blood. One woman had almost lost her mouthguard as the other femme fatale had landed a devastating left hook to her abdomen before following it up with a right hook to a lowering and unprotected jaw. The connection had reverberated throughout the well lit arena, a sound that further thrilled the audience. Their eyes followed the statuesque Caucasian fighter as she stumbled back from the blow, guard once lowered  to her bruised abdomen, now raised to her bloodied face. Her  adversary, equally toned had rushed after her. Her model-esque features ruined by a rapidly swelling left eye and bloodied nose. But that only made the  angered look of the nubian pugilist, that more fearsome.

The blonde pugilist felt the cold touch of the metal ropes on her plump rear and sucked her teeth. The ebony boxer had traded with her for several minutes now and that last exchange had almost costed her dearly. They had both been in battles like this before, hell the blonde had gotten a tattoo of a tally on her right arm for each victory...and subsequent kill she had scored in this ring. That tally is what had caused this fight. Well not so much the tally as who had been added to it. 

The ebony fighter's younger sister had faced off with the blonde and been found wanting. She had battled for a short time but soon, her hands dangled before her, the right one broken and the other one feeling like lead. Her blonde superior had taken this as an invitation to lay into the defenseless gladiatrix. What ensued was a brutal massacre. By the time the caucasian fighter had ceased her blows, the black fighter lay on the canvas in a pool of her own blood, piss and cum, convulsing with ragged breaths before she finally expired. A more merciful fighter would have stopped ages ago. A doctor might have been called in to attend to the beaten woman. Hell, a bell would have been rung as the ref broke up the one sided affair. But none of that happened.

Instead the blonde had berated her foe with each blow. Countless knockdowns had been met with the white woman gyrating lewdly before her struggling, black rival before she had forcefully made her stand in a further attempt to embarrass her. The piss running down that dark skinned thigh had indicated...it had worked. And that all culminated in blow after blow raining down on the broken fighter's once massive bosom, now further swollen till they 'popped' sending milk flying. Only then did she look upwards...only when internal damage had been achieved and mental fortitude shattered, did the blonde with a wicked smile, delight in delivering the fight ending blows to her foe's head.

The older sister had had to watch this in a video sent to her. The place made much more money in streams than live attendance but she had not had to pay a dime. Not a single, solitary cent of her own money. Someone had sent it to her free of charge and titled it, "My greatest hits". She had watched it with ever growing fervor and dread. She had trained her sister. She had trained her well. She had left her legacy to her to carry on...in official circuits. How had she gotten into this barbaric event? Why? She watched on, unable to take her eyes off the screen. Perhaps her younger sister had won, and wanted to show her. But she had been in enough of these fights to know better. She knew when a woman was beaten. She had done it enough times. The tally on her right arm was testament to that. No, she knew before her sister's corpse hit the mat and red boxing boot rested on her broken face...she had lost a sibling. And she wanted revenge. She had once been a champion. She had once been unstoppable. She had once laid that blonde cunt out in a pool of her own blood, riding a wave of applause.

Tides had turned now however. The blonde had surged forward and started to outclass her rival. Blow after blow rained down on her taut abdomen or large bust, sending sweat, milk and blood flying. The audience had cheered as the black bruiser had gone to one knee holding her busted left tit as milk spurted out, a pained expression on her face. Her blonde foe, stood before her, gloved hands raised and waxed pussy with the 10 inch dildo pulsating within it. The white woman had trained. She had faced her before and was not nearly this good. She had been less accurate, less vicious, less slutty. The black woman stood up, her own 8 inch dildo having to be shoved back in by a black glove as she rose up. Another exchange of blows rung out for all to hear till a thud followed by a crash of body to canvas signaled the black fighter had been knocked down, mouthguard sent flying in a spray of blood.

The PAWG Pugilist paraded pompously around her downed foe. She had wanted this for ages. It is why she had trained so hard. Why she had challenged her sister...why she had sent the video. She saw the look in her foe's one good eye. Fear, confusion...inferiority. The sign of piss dribbling past the dildo and onto the mat made her let out a shrill scream as she cupped her own bruised, pale tits and twerked over the struggling woman. Eyeing the black mouthguard, she walked over to it and kicked it over to her rival. The dejection in the black amazon's eyes said it all. Regret. Regret of not protecting her sister. Regret of not finishing her off when they first fought. Regret of having entered this ring. Slowly, so slowly she stood up. The audience had welcomed her return but now they saw, she had no business in the ring. Or did she?

Boom! "Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen...", unanswered blows rained down on one woman till her right tit ruptured and other eye had swollen shut. Both hands dangled downwards. Both broken thanks to clashes of red gloved fists and black gloved fists. She had sought revenge. She had planned it. Planned to add this bitch to her tally. She had been sure of it. BOOM! Another spray of blood as a mouthguard went flying out of a busted mouth. Now as they chanted her rival's name, she had realized her error. She had not been ready for this. Two of them had entered with malicious intent. The Black bomber and the White warrior had clashed in a final battle for superiority. BOOM! THUD! The broken fighter bounced off the chain link ropes and then onto her foe's swollen bosom. One of them would add to their tally tonight and that made her juices flow that much more over her vibrator. She let the beaten fighter fall unimpeded for a second before a hellacious uppercut had snapped her head up in a spray of blood, sweat and spittle, a resounding CRACK filling the arena as her neck snapped. Then...THUD. A body hit the canvas, convulsing like the video. Eyes glared down hatefully and gloved hands raised high as she basked in the cheers of the audience. She had killed her. She had done it...she had brought her back to the ring and slaughtered her black rival.

The white fighter went about her final humiliations of the beaten, black bitch. Tearing off her own gloves she quickly stripped off the dead woman's boots and gloves. Then she ripped out the black dildo and raised it high as a sign of her triumph, stomping a red boot on to the woman's face and posed. She looked right into one of the cameras and felt herself start to quake before she came from the exhilaration. She smiled, showing her mouthguard, unsure if someday too...she would be left dead under the heels of another. But for now, she had won. This was her domain! Her underground!

Published: 2023-12-20, viewed 130 times.