Disclaimer: The following is fiction. The story’s content does not represent the writer’s beliefs, opinions, or attitudes. This story is intended for adult entertainment only. The characters and events depicted in this work are fictional. The author does not condone or promote unlawful activity as the story describes. By continuing to read this work, you acknowledge that you are an adult who wishes to read works of fantasy and fiction for the purpose only of fantasy. All the characters in this story are adults. They may play different ages for the fictional character they are depicting, but they remain at all times adults.
Writer: Midwych
Subject: KIDFIGHTCLUB 4
Link: Copyright 2009 / Midwych. All rights Reserved / http://www.asstr.org/~Polaris/
Story Codes: NC, Rape, Young Ones, Sadism, Abuse, Scat, WS
Kidfight Club 4
Ursa was six and slim and blonde, with rosy cheeks and mysterious dark eyes, but she was undoubtedly very pretty; the sort of girl who would look terrible either with blood running from her nose or a little fat belly from too much shit eating.
The sort of girl when being beaten or bound would make any woman want to cum. Helen said that as soon as she saw her. “One wonderful little bitch,” was the tall woman’s summary.
Adele had been surprised at the Helen’s change of plans. Helen said she had canceled her flight back to Washington and would fly instead with Adele to her home. “You can put me up for a few days,” she had grinned. “I can even sleep on the couch if you’ve no spare room, though I’d rather sleep in your bed.”
Adele wasn’t quite sure what to say to her new lover. In a way she had been sacred of Helen finally seeing Ursa, knowing that it would be another step on the path to making her daughter a Kidfighter. Or for that matter a shit-eating slave.
There was no doubt Adele wanted the excitement of any or all of that, but her motherly instincts were trying to reassert themselves. She even confessed her feelings of guilt to Helen on the plane. They couldn’t get adjoining seats but met up in the small, cramped toilet for sex. Adele had just climaxed from being fingered and kissed when she began to cry. “I’m so worried,” she had blubbered. “My mom will be there and seeing Ursa so innocent, me knowing what I want for her… I shouldn’t.”
Helen had then surprised her. “I know,” she had said soothingly as she held Adele close. “I went through all that myself. I know exactly how you feel.” She had held Adele in her arms and kissed her tears away. “Of course there are doubts. I had them. Every mother does.”
“You mean, you thought twice about it all?”
“Twice, three times… more. I worried endlessly about it. But then I thought it would drive me mad not to, not knowing how Kelly would manage, how she’d fight. As it happened I made the right decision: she loved it all. Kelly won way more than she lost and when she retired at nine, well, she was as good as any little bitch I’d ever seen in the ring.”
“Retire… so Ursa can stop when she’s nine?” Adele had suddenly looked hopeful.
Helen had smiled and kissed Adele’s nose. “Listen, hon, they can retire at the end of any year after they reach seven. Some moms retire their girls early, but most want them to fight until their ninth birthday. When they reach nine they can stop. Weird really, no one seems interested in the ‘olders’ as they’re called, no one wants really to see girls as old as nine fighting. Some ‘olders’ are supposed to find a place in someplace like Mexico or Brazil where they have ten and eleven year olds fighting, but from what I’ve heard it’s brutal and messy.”
“What we are planning,” Adele had said, “is brutal.”
“Not brutal as in chains tied round fists, spiked gloves, or the kidfighters hobbled in chains or fastened by the neck to poles so they can’t move much and dodge the blows.”
“My God,” Adele had moaned, partly in shock at the idea and partly because Helen had slid her fingers back into her spread, sopping wet cunt. “Please, darling… finger me again. I need to cum once more.”
Helen had done that, and Adele had made up her mind she had to do this kidfight thing, no matter what. At least she felt reassured she wouldn’t ever send Ursa to central or south America.
Now they stood in Adele’s home with Ursa smiling up at Helen. Her mom’s new friend.
“Honey,” Helen smiled down at Ursa. “You are quite the prettiest little girl I’ve seen in ages. And you know what, I think you look like a dancer.”
Ursa had giggled. “I can’t dance,” she said shyly.
“Oh I bet you can. Show me some moves, sweetheart,” said Helen. The child obliged with some impromptu dance moves and Helen applauded. Meanwhile Adele’s mother Arlene had taken her daughter to one side.
“This friend of yours, this Helen woman you met in Vegas,” she said, eyes narrowed. “She seems mighty interested in Ursa.”
“Uh… She’s a dance teacher. Loves to help girls to dance, express themselves.” Adele hated lying to her mother, but it was so much better than the truth.
“You’re lying,” said Arlene.
“No, mom!” Adele felt panic rising in her. “I’m not.” How could she know her daughter was lying? She found out.
“Theresa, your friend, came over yesterday. We had quite a chat, her and me.”
“What?” The feeling of panic in Adele doubled. She felt she could hardly breathe.
“I was real curious quite why you’d gone to Las Vegas. You ain’t a gambler and wouldn’t know one end of a roulette wheel from the other, so I figured it was a man. I really wanted to find out why you needed to be away three days. I found out that you were in Vegas to watch some show. She told me all about it, eventually.”
“Uh… eventually?”
“I plied her with drink. Theresa’s sweet but she talks way too much when she’s had a few glasses of wine.”
Adele gulped. “I think she makes things up -” The woman began.
“No, my dear. She showed me some video she had. Little girls fighting. She said you’d gone to watch some fight with a girl named Tyler.”
“Tyson,” said Adele, feeling tearful. Behind her, Ursa was still dancing, Helen still applauding.
“Whatever,” shrugged Arlene. “You into this thing then?”
“I… I was curious, that’s all. She put me up to it. I would never do anything to hurt Ursa, you know that.”
“Bullshit,” said Arlene. “That woman is a kidfight trainer. Helen Grady, right? I saw her name as producer and fight trainer on the kidfight video Theresa had. The name stuck out because my maiden name was Grady.” The older woman paused. “What I saw was downright barbaric. Undoubtedly the worst thing I’ve ever seen, all that blood and sadism. Women howling and playing with themselves in public.” She said the last part like it was the most disgusting thing ever.
Adele felt devastated. Her plans had already come undone. Her mother wouldn’t let this go. She had probably told Adele’s husband Kevin, but he was out right now, thankfully. “Mom, it isn’t what you think,” whispered Adele.
“It is what I think,” said Arlene. “So here’s the deal. I do not want to see a single drop of blood on my granddaughter. I do not want to see scars or bruises and I definitely do not want to discover she has broken bones.”
“Then don’t look,” said Helen. She had finished watching Ursa’s dancing and now stood right behind Adele and Arlene and was holding Ursa’s hand. Ursa looked happy that she had been asked to dance. “What you don’t know won’t hurt you.”
“That’s my granddaughter you’re planning to have beat up,” said the older woman sternly, turning to Helen. “You think I like the idea of that?”
“I’m not going to do anything to her, but I want to teach her to defend herself. Also I think,” said Helen carefully, “you want something for your silence. You want a reward for not knowing, not looking at what’s going on.”
There was a cold silence between the two females and then a slow smile spread across Arlene’s face. “Oh my, you are good, aren’t you? I looked up some stuff about this kidfight stuff. On the internet. Not much there, I admit, but some comments on this one weird place. They kept mentioning this Helen G woman. They said, she always gets her way. She’s smooth.”
“I am. So… You want me in bed?” Helen didn’t seem the least fazed by any of this. “Or you want your daughter in bed. She’s pretty good when she has a woman’s tongue in her mouth.”
Adele gasped at what was being said, but to her astonishment her mom laughed. “Good try, Ms G, but I am not gay. I guess you’ve bedded my daughter already. I always thought she might be a bit bi-curious.”
“Mom!” Adele finally said.
“Let her finish,” said Helen. She hadn’t let go of Ursa’s hand but the child seemed contented to stand there. Ursa may have understood something of what the adults were saying but she didn’t look upset by it.
“So I want something and I’m not lez? I’d say a man, wouldn’t you?” Arlene grinned. “If you and this woman, Adele, are going to fuck each other I guess I better take over Kevin. Give him a little amusement. After all, his wife’s going to be busy getting ready for the next fight, correct?”
Adele gaped at her mom, but Helen chuckled. “Perfect. And you already know Kevin would want to play your way, right? A man getting hot for his big-tit mother-in-law.”
Arlene laughed back. It seemed these two females understood each other perfectly. “I did buy some new underwear,” said Arlene. “Sort of corset like thing. Garters, that kind of thing. Gets men going, I know. I let Kevin see me in it, and hey, he cuddled me up and told me he always really liked me. He goes for mature women and,” Arlene pushed her big chest out, “there’s sure a lot here to pack away in some black lace bra and let Kevin flip them out.”
Adele found her voice. “You… you’ve already fucked him!”
Arleen grinned. “All three holes, hon. Apparently you don’t so the anal thing. But I do. He appreciates me on all fours so he can reach and maul my tits. Sorry, darling, but that’s men for you.”
Helen was unconcerned by this revelation. “So it’s settled,” she said briskly. “You and Kevin fuck merrily, me and Adele will share a bed. We will keep the damage to any fighters out of his way and your way.”
“Agreed,” said Arlene. “And now, as I have never seen a pair of filthy lesbians at it, I guess you can put on a show on for me. All solely for education of course.”
“Can I see the show too?” Asked Ursa, smiling up.
“Sure,” both Helen and Arlene said as one.
Adele thought she’d faint, but her pants were soaking wet with her juices as it was. It was even more remarkable that Ursa clapped when she saw what sort of show it was and thoroughly enjoyed seeing mommy and Helen make each other cum in a 69.
Ursa even understood what “make me cum, you fucking slut,” meant and said yes, her mommy was a slut when she did that with her tongue in aunt Helen’s pussy.
The arrangement seemed to work well. Kevin was as embarrassed as hell that he had been revealed as a mother-in-law fucker but got over it when he saw his wife having sex with another woman. The sleeping arrangements worked well, and Ursa was taught to dance.
“Dancing is important in a fighter,” said Helen. “Ursa’s going to be a late developer – most fighters start when they are four – so she has some catching up to do.” The garage had been cleared as the training area, all unknown to Kevin. But as his sexy, eager mother-in-law kept him fully occupied he didn’t care what happened elsewhere. He hardly saw Ursa most of the week and no one seemed to mind. Aunt Helen after all, was the new influence in the little girl’s life, and she loved the dance lessons where she had to hold her hands up with fists clenched.
Theresa had to be involved too. She had felt guilty about revealing – while drunk – Adele’s purpose in going to Las Vegas and she was relieved that world war three hadn’t broken out. In fact, she was made to feel welcome and as a result very pleased to meet Helen. A couple of three-way sessions first with Adele and her lover and then with Kevin and his mom-in-law made her feel part of the family. As a consequence she became something of the go-between, keeping Adele informed how well her husband and her mother were getting along. It became hard to believe that so many people were under one roof and yet they so rarely met.
Arlene however agreed that when Ursa was ready to fight, she would whisk Kevin off somewhere for a long week of fucking and sucking so the child could recover from her battering out of her – and her dad’s – sight.
“She might not get a battering,” said Adele. “Helen says she’s looking good.”
“Honey,” sighed Adele’s mother as she got some coffee on one of the few times their paths crossed. The older woman was dressed in a mature set of pink and white underwear but with no panties on. There was dried cum on her girdle and stocking tops. “The purpose of this is to see Ursa hit and hurt, so don’t pretend. She may win, whatever that involves, but you want to see her hurt.”
“Sorry,” said Adele.
“It’s what women do,” said Arlene cryptically as she took her coffee away upstairs to where Kevin was waiting to use his mother-in-law’s asshole again.
Theresa proved to be a great help in another way. She had found a small girl who would act as Ursa’s sparring partner. Adele’s daughter now understood this was not just dancing, but a special sort of fighting dancing, and she also grasped that she was meant to use her fists to punch out. She had worked hard on the punchbag set up in the garage and Helen said her moves and the way she threw punches were a delight. But she said it was no good without a human opponent. Sooner or later Ursa needed to face a real child.
The solution was provided by Theresa. A cousin of hers by the name of Yvonne had been to a couple of kidfights and while she had enjoyed it felt torn between wanting to see more and protecting her child. No way, she said, could I let a child of mine be beaten like that. Yvonne’s daughter Sian was five and while she was lithe and a good mover, she had never thrown a punch in her life. Still, she would be there to try mostly to avoid being hit, so she could spar with Ursa providing she could wear a helmet to protect her head.
Yvonne insisted on it. No head protection, no sparring.
The best that Helen come up with locally was an inflatable rubber bondage hood with clear panels over the eyes. It meant Sian couldn’t see very well but any blows to her head would be cushioned by all the air. Helen had got the smallest adult size she could (no one within miles would sell kid’s bondage helmets) and pumped it up hard, having assured Sian and her mother that it would totally protect the five year old. Sian was worried about the gag part of it and asked how would she speak with it on, but Helen assured her that all she had to do was hold both hands up to show she needed to stop for a rest.
For her part Yvonne fretted she wouldn’t be able to stand there and watch her daughter being punched – even with a helmet on – and not intervene. “I had a devil of a job not going into the kidfight ring to rescue some poor girl getting beat badly. In fact, at the next fight I was tied to a chair so I wouldn’t jump up and stop the event. Don’t misunderstand me: I loved what I saw but I felt it was my job to intervene. So being tied up made me stay out of the way.”
It was agreed that Yvonne could watch her daughter sparring if she was tied the same way. Yvonne was six months pregnant with her next child and so was allowed to sit on a chair in the corner of the garage and Helen tied her in place, being careful of her swollen belly. “I better gag you,” said Helen, “as I don’t want you shrieking out and disturbing the neighbors, okay?”
Yvonne agreed, and a ball gag was used to keep her quiet. She moaned a little when she saw her naked Sian being gagged and hooded and the air pumped up inside it, so she had a grotesquely swollen black rubber ball instead of a head. The little girl took a few minutes to get used to holding her head up with the hood on and not staggering around, but she was soon ready.
The sparring began slowly. First of all Sian wasn’t used to the helmet so she didn’t move much and Ursa was unsure about aiming punches. For the first five minutes there wasn’t much movement and Helen stopped the ’bout’ to talk to Ursa. When they resumed, Ursa had a better idea of what to do. She began jabbing fast and hard and a couple of times made the hooded Sian stagger back. From her chair Yvonne was moaning helplessly into her gag. Those punches that connected in turn prompted Sian to try and dodge more. She began to weave and lean away, and made a better training session for Ursa.
The two girls weren’t connected by a neck chain and there were no electric wire ring fence to keep them from moving too far. Several times Sian backed into the garage wall or the workbench and once fell over her helpless mother where she sat. Helen was pleased how the training was going (Sian hardly held her hands up to stop) but there was too much ‘running away’ by Sian. Helen decided that they needed a restraint to stop all the back-pedalling by the hooded girl for although she was told to more or less stay still and just dodge, her instincts were to try and run.
The easiest solution was a rope from the beam above the garage fastened to the top of Sian’s helmet, where there was a metal D ring. She told Yvonne what she was going to do to her daughter but didn’t remove the woman’s gag to find out her views. Yvonne was making some urgent mmphing noises but Helen took no notice (and neither for that matter did Adele or Theresa, who was there to watch) Theresa had gone to stand behind her cousin and put her hands on Yvonne’s heavy tits, rubbing them lightly so the tied up woman’s nipples stood hard against her thin shirt. “She used to love this,” explained Theresa. Apparently, she still did, though it was hard to tell what the tied female was trying to say either about that particular attention or what was happening to her child.
Sian was secured by the D ring so she had some room to move a fews step back and sideways, and the two children recommenced the sparring. More and more punches from Ursa were hitting the inflated rubber ball that was Sian’s head and the hooded girl was trying to dodge and weave as far as she could on the end of the rope.
Then the unexpected happened. Either Sian got carried away or was scared but she brought her hands up like Ursa’s were and tried to fend off the blows in something approximating to a boxing position. Helen was grinning: she was going to do this training another time but already it was making for excellent preparation for Ursa. But the real shock was when Sian went on the offensive and lashed out with a punch of her own. Ursa was utterly unprepared for it and the little girl’s fist caught her on the nose. There was blood everywhere and Ursa staggered back, quite shocked to find out what it was like to be hit.
Everyone made some noise, especially the gagged Yvonne, who sounded as if she actually cheered.
Helen asked Ursa if she wanted to stop but the six year old said no, spitting some blood out of her mouth. “But tie her hands,” she said, indicating Sian. Helen nodded and did so, and then let Ursa loose on the child. The blows rained in on the air-padded head of the helpless Sian, and then on her body. There had been no instruction from Helen to do that, but Ursa was mad as hell. Privately Helen was pleased; she needed to see that Ursa was a proper fighter and not just a dancer, and she was.
Sian for her part now she was tied couldn’t protect her slim, pale naked body and several times she almost collapsed from a blow to the chest or belly. Only the rope to her hood stopped her dropping fully to her knees and she had to make herself get up repeatedly to endure more punishment. She couldn’t signal she had had enough and neither could her bound and gagged mother. Theresa was now pinching her cousin’s hard, erect nipples and rubbing her own legs together as she stood and watched from behind the chair. Adele was simply masturbating openly; she no longer cared who saw her playing with herself.
By the time Helen had stopped the sparring bout, several minutes later, the floor was splattered with blood from Ursa’s nose and there were blotches and purple bruises all over Sian’s thin, pale torso. The little girl was obviously sobbing underneath her hood, and when it was removed floods of tears cascaded down the poor child’s face. The gag was removed and her hands untied and she fled to her mother to hug her, even though no one had made any attempt to untie Yvonne.
Theresa did take Yvonne’s gag out and the bound mother cooed and consoled her daughter, who was saying over and over: “It hurt mommy! It hurt!”
An hour later they were all sat round in the house, all seemingly back to normal. Ursa’s nose had stopped bleeding and she was cleaned up now, and there were no bruises to be seen on Sian as she was dressed in a big, baggy t-shirt. The two girls were sat in front of some kids’ show on TV, enjoying milk and cookies as if nothing unusual had happened.
The four adults – Helen, Adele, Yvonne and Theresa – were sat round the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, discussing the afternoon.
“In my mind, the events proved conclusively that Ursa is a fighter,” said Helen. “She got mad and wanted to hit back. She got over the shock of being hit and bloodied and fought on.”
“And I thought she looked good,” said Adele, secretly very proud of how her daughter had coped.
“I liked the way Ursa held herself.” said Theresa, who other than Helen had seen the most fights and had some idea of kidfight techniques. “She’ll learn about warding off blows like that.”
“I feel totally confused,” said Yvonne. “It hurt me seeing my daughter pummeled like that, but I loved she drew blood. Sorry, Adele, I know it was your girl who got punched out, but that hit was… well, so good.” She blushed. “Made me proud to be Sian’s mom.”
“Sure was a good punch.” Helen nodded. “Ursa has to learn that this is what kidfights are. It isn’t all one way stuff. It is very much give and take,”
“And I wanted to see Ursa hurt,” confessed Adele, her own face coloring up. “I was fingering myself when it happened and my climax was just awesome.”
“That’s kidfights,” laughed Helen.
There was a noise from in front of the TV and the four women hurried through to find the two girls had finished their milk and cookies and were rolling on the floor. The two girls were wrestling.
“Hi mom,” grinned Ursa, looking up. “Me an’ Sian are jus’ seeing what it’s like fighting like this.”
“Kinda fun,” grinned Sian, “but not like fighting properly.”
“What?” Asked Yvonne, hands on her fat belly in shock.
“Mom,” the five year old scrambled from under Ursa and jumped up to stand in front of her mother. She was grinning. “Can I please?”
“Please what?” Blinked Yvonne at her child.
“Can I please, please, pleeeease learn to fight like Ursa does? I promise i’ll be good.”
Ursa had come up behind Sian and put her arms round the younger girl. “An’ I don’t mind if she hits me ‘cos then I can hit her back. Please?”
“Oh fuck,” moaned Yvonne. “Yes, yes, yes,” she said. Then over her shoulder, she asked: “Could someone eat me out please. God, I’m desperate.”
Remarkably the pregnant woman had five volunteers.
THE END OF CHAPTER FOUR