Battlefield: After the Match

A would-be rapist attacks Belle after a sumo tournament

By Mongoose750 (mongoose750@yahoo.com)

[Author's Note: This is sort of a precursor to Battlefield: The Gate. I hope you enjoy ' Mongoose750]

As everyone showered, packed up and changed, Belle sat on the bench in the locker room and reflected. It was a good tournament. It was even better that the woman's team won, but it was hard fought; the other two stables were fierce. Her own match against "Mountain Martha," a 5'11" black woman, was a task in itself. For a woman of her size and height, Martha moved like a streak of black lightning. If Belle wasn't able to use her momentum against her, she would've been outside the ring, sitting on her butt in defeat.

Belle was a sumo wrestler, a heavyweight. As she often joked, she had a body "made for sumo." She stood 5'5", and weighed in at 186 pounds. She was a full-figured woman with large hips and large breasts. Again, as she joked, she didn't have an hourglass figure, it was more like a pair of margarita glasses, if you removed the bases, turned one upside down, and joined them together at the stem. As for the rest of her, she was white, with a medium complexion, an attractive oval face, and long waist-length brown hair.

But underneath the package was a very strong woman. Her thighs and calves were huge and rock hard, as were her core muscles. Her arms were large too, the product of both sumo training and weight lifting. Aside from sumo, Belle was also well versed, although not belted, in a few other martial arts. This developed her explosive speed, which was also deceptive to the common observer.

After the women were finished with their matches, it was the men's turn. The men on Belle's team did not fare as well, placing second out of the three teams, but they held their own quite well. What caught Belle's attention though, was the men's middleweight competition. Or rather, one of the men competing. He wasn't too tall, being 5'6", and from a quick check at the stats, he just entered the middleweight class from the lightweight division. He was black, well muscled, and reminded Belle a little of the actor Denzel Washington. He also had wonderful technique, as he defeated his opponent who was thirty pounds heavier than he was. He was on one of the opposing teams, but that was all right.

Belle was going to congratulate him on his victory personally.

Humming, she hurried getting dressed. She wore a pink half-sleeve blouse, a modest knee-length blue jean skirt, and tan pantyhose. Belle always liked the feel of hosiery against the skin, so she almost always wore hose, tights, or leggings outside the ring. She didn't feel the same way about shoes, however. She made it a point to leave the horrid things at home, else she end up leaving them somewhere else than on her feet. So far, no one had really gotten on to her about it (except her mother, who was more of a hard core barefooter herself), and her fans thought it was cool.

After every sumo tournament, the wrestlers, coaches, trainers, crew, and invited guests go to eat at a restaurant, usually a nice one, a buffet, or a steakhouse. Intelligent restaurant owners generally go out of their way to welcome the potential patrons. Some have gone as far as sponsoring the tournaments in anticipation of the hefty revenue they'll receive in return afterwards.

As soon as the man left the sports complex, Belle intercepted him.

"Hello, Richard, is it?" Belle said, who clearly knew his name.

"Yes; aren't you Belle?" Richard replied, making sure he had the name straight.

"Yes I am. I just wanted to complement you on your victory over Clark Lewis. Your technique was outstanding."

"Why thank you. He was mighty tough, I'll tell you that."

Very humble, Belle thought; a proper gentleman.

"Now that I think of it, I liked your performance too. I don't see many women take down Martha like that," he continued.

"Well thank you very much," Belle replied.

Now Belle was born and raised in Tennessee. That naturally left her with a southern accent. Attending college out of state and a bit of travel had rendered it almost nonexistent, but her mother cautioned her to keep it in reserve. When asked why, she said there were many men who loved southern accents on women. Do it just right, and they'll melt in her hands.

"Really?" Belle replied, skeptically.

In reply, her mother pointed to her husband. "That's how I got your daddy. And that's how we got six youngin's."

Blushing, Belle got the point.

In her brief conversation with Richard, like a switch, Belle turned on the southern charm and accent, and after a minute, it was working.

"Perhaps we could go to another restaurant, and discuss this further," Belle suggested in almost a purr.

It was at this point that Richard snapped out of the trance. It was not easy, staring into Belle's big brown eyes, dazzling smile, and that sweet accent, but he found the will.

"I would love to, but I can't. My coach has this thing about our stable eating by ourselves, and going over where we went wrong. Not the way I would want to spend dining. And he's very picky on our attendance too," he said.

Belle's disappointment was clear. "I'm sorry to hear that. The last thing I want to do is get in trouble with your coach," she replied.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. Hey, how about a rain check?" Richard said, perking up.

"A rain check? I'd love one!"

Actually, it sounded like "Ah'd love one," but in any case, Belle figured she'd caught a big one. They exchanged phone numbers, and said their goodbyes.

"I'll have you know sir, that this is a "check' that I plan to cash in very soon," Belle said, giving Richard a lingering look.

"Yes ma'am!" He replied, giving a mock salute.

Belle gave another dazzling smile as she walked away.

Pity, she was looking forward to having dinner with Richard tonight, but she can wait another day. At least she'll have something to tell the girls. She strolled back across the street to meet her stable as they prepared to leave.

Caleb Walker had been looking forward to this moment for a long time. It was only a few months, but it might as well be a long time. Caleb was a factory worker at the canning factory on the other edge of town. He really didn't know much about sumo wrestling, men's or women's. The only reason he was there were only two things he seemed to care about: money and big breasts. He usually spent almost all of the former on drink and the latter. When he ran out of the first, he'd beg, borrow, and at times steal to get more. And regarding the second, if the usual trollops in the red light district weren't available (meaning no money), he'd fulfill that need by force if necessary. There were a few victims who could attest to that, but they were out of town, where they couldn't reach Caleb, especially because they didn't know where he lived.

One day at work, while pondering how to obtain his two vices, a friend told him with sumo wrestlers, there was a combination of both. Quickly, Caleb pumped his friend for information, and received all the information he needed to know, including the tournament that was going on.

After work, Caleb rushed out to the sports complex, and found it a major effort to keep his eyes from popping out of his head. Being a bit of a burly man, standing at six feet, he figured the larger women, the "heavyweights" they called them, would be just right for him. Maybe not all of them. That woman they call Mountain Martha might be a little too much for him to handle.

And then he saw Belle.

With his severe case of tunnel vision, Caleb did not see her powerful legs, he did not see her strong arms, nor her long brown hair or attractive face. He just saw what was hidden beneath her blouse, and knew he had to have them. To feel them under his fingers. He needed them, and he needed them now. She was alone, and it should be easy to drag her to a secluded spot and do it. He almost forgot about getting any money, but to get this much for free would keep him happy for a long time. And her being from out of town was another plus.

With a solid pat on his left rear pocket of his jeans, where his switchblade was located, he hustled over to intercept the breasts, er, the woman walking back to the building.

Belle had crossed the street, and was about to reach the sidewalk leading up to the building where the locker room was, when a man suddenly appeared in front of her with a funny look on his face. No, not funny, considering where his eyes were staring.

In his experience, Caleb found the best way to do this was to be direct about it. They weren't going to come willingly, no matter how you went about it, kind or rough. So why waste time?

"All right, let's go," he grumbled, "over there, by those bushes."

If she ran, he could catch her. If she tried to fight, he had the edge. He could also gag her before she tried to scream. Instead of immediately exercising any of those options, the woman stared at him incredulously.

"I beg your pardon?" Belle asked.

Caleb pulled out his blade and pointed it at her. "In the bushes, now!" He ordered.

"I am not going anywhere with you, sir. You are surely not a gentleman," Belle replied.

"Get into those bushes, or I'll slice your boobs off!" Caleb barked.

This was not the first confrontation Belle had been in. There were two things that she had been taught from those she'd been in. One was to watch her temper. While she did not have a quick one, once it was ignited, it blazed with destructive force. That connected with the second thing; being involved in weight-bearing sports for a long time, Belle had been told many times that she did not know her own strength. Add to that her sumo skills, and martial arts training, and that made Belle a rather dangerous woman to make angry.

In sumo, where she dealt with other women her own size and larger, Belle did not have to hold back. And when some creep with a knife staring at her breasts tells her to go into the bushes, she did not need to hold back on him either. But because she always done what she was taught, she attempted to reason with the man one more time before she needed to deal with him.

"Dear sir, you don't want to do this," Belle began, using her southern accent once again while moving closer. "Let's talk about this."

"I don't want to talk, I want to fuaah!"

Caleb felt a sudden pain in his wrist, causing him to scream in pain and drop his knife. He looked down to see Belle hold his hand at an awkward angle. She dropped his hand and burned an intense gaze into his face, while covering his knife with her foot.

"Go away and leave me alone, before someone gets hurt," Belle said in a steady tone of warning.

Caleb's mind only knew one thing; this woman was messing with him. She needed to be taught a lesson. He advanced, ready to backslap her. Belle delivered an open palm blow to his elbow, holding it in place, while she threw a straight punch into the center of his face.

The blow to the face made Caleb stagger back a bit, after he was a little off balance from the blow to his arm. He prepared himself to attack again, when he saw a few red spots on the sidewalk. The red spots were increasing in number. Then he realized they came from him. He slowly touched his nose and winced. He then looked at Belle, who had her hands up in some sort of fighting stance.

"Walk away. Last chance," Belle said.

Normally Belle would stand in a defensive aikido or tai chi stance. This time her stance was for a full out assault. She should have kept that aikido wristlock on him, while trying to reason with him, even though she knew he was past that. The jeet kune do straight punch dazed him, but he's not going to stop until she put him down. So be it.

Caleb readied himself as Belle took one foot and slid the knife under it far behind her. This chick can hit! The smart thing to do would probably be to run, but no one ever accused Caleb of doing the smart thing. He just needed to attack one more time.

However, Belle surprised him by attacking first. She stepped forward and delivered a left palm strike to Caleb's chest. Before he could register how much the blow hurt, his supposed victim swung a right elbow to his jaw.

The fight was starting to draw attention from a few of the male and female wrestlers from all three stables, and some paramedics who were at the match in case a wrestler got injured. No one was hurt in the matches, but it looked like someone may need attention on this day.

When Caleb tried to scream, cuss, or whatever he planned to utter, he found his jaw wasn't working right. This was made worse by a forearm uppercut as the woman wrapped a leg around one of his. Caleb fell crashing to the ground on his back. He now saw the sky, and the face of an angry Belle glaring at him.

And Belle wasn't finished yet. She made sure the man was looking at her face, then she raised her right hose-covered foot, and stomped it on Caleb's throat. The man madly thrashed around on the ground trying to catch a breath, but none could be found.

Belle never cared much for rapists, potential or otherwise. She agreed with one female martial artist on what she said when confronted with a rapist. Her reply was simple: kill him. In full agreement, Belle figured in this case if she could put one more rapist in the ground, it would be better for everyone.

She looked dispassionately at the man rolling on the ground before her. Her stomp may have finished him, but one more should do it for sure. She couldn't get a second clear shot at the throat, but caving in his rib cage would work. She raised up her foot, took aim . . .

And two paramedics rushed to Caleb's side before she could put her foot down. A couple of the women wrestlers on Belle's team gently pulled her away.

"Are you all right?" One of them asked.

"Yes, I'm fine," Belle replied as she turned and walked from Caleb and the two paramedics who fought to save his life.

Most observers saw Belle confronted by a man with a knife, but the battle began and ended before anyone could intervene. They also saw that the sumo wrestler was untouched, while it was the thug who needed to be hospitalized. Still they checked to see if she was all right just the same.

"He wanted to rape me," Belle said to the others. "You could see it in his eyes. He wanted to take me behind those bushes and rape me."

One male sumo wrestler glanced over at the paramedics, who just loaded Caleb into the waiting ambulance. One ran over to Belle.

"We saw that you were . . . quite fine," he said. "Still, if you need to make sure . . ."

"That won't be necessary," Belle replied.

"Okay."

"What about the other guy?" Someone asked, more curious than concerned.

"We had to attach a tube to his throat so he could breathe, but he'll live."

"Pity," Belle remarked.

"Remind you to never get you mad at me," the paramedic said as he jumped into the ambulance.

"Not if you act like a gentleman," Belle replied as the ambulance pulled away.

"Come on Belle," her coach said, "let's go eat. They can find us if they need a statement. Everybody knows it was self-defense. I can understand if you're not hungry."

Before Belle could answer, she saw someone fighting their way through the small crowd. It was Richard, in street clothes with his travel bag over his shoulder.

"I just heard what happened," he panted. "Are you okay?"

Belle gave a small smile. "Yes I am, thanks for asking. Did you run?"

"We were about to enter the restaurant, when someone called one of us, and said one of the ladies was attacked. By the time we got here, we found out it was you, and the guy was sent to the emergency room. And yes, I ran."

"You should've seen it man, she tore him up!" One of the lightweight male wrestlers from Belle's stable said.

"Nobody attacks a sumo wrestler; I thought everyone knew that," another lightweight from the third team said.

"They do now," a middleweight woman quipped.

As they laughed, Belle said, "I'm going to get my things." She walked a few steps, then turned and added, "Richard?"

The middleweight trotted over as she continued walking.

"Yes?" He asked.

"I am going to take you up on that rain check now, and I'm not accepting no as an answer. Now, I understand there is a nice seafood restaurant in this town that serves excellent shrimp. Is that fine with you?"

Richard thought a moment, then replied, "I'm sure I can give my coach some type of an alibi."

Belle stopped and turned to Richard, touching his arm, and pouring on the charm, and accent.

"My dear Richard," she began, "I have just undergone a traumatic experience that had left me in such a state, I might swoon. In that moment, I called on you, since you are a proper gentleman, to help me in my distress. And of course, you are honor bound to help me in my time of need."

"Yes, that should do it," Richard replied.

Belle picked up her bag and smiled at him as she hooked arms with him. "Good. Let's go, I'm hungry."

If you have enjoyed this story, perhaps you may want to read other stories from the Barefoot Heroines collection. There are a variety of stories to choose from. They can be found at http://www.thevalkyrie.com/stories/mongoose/index.htm.

Any comments, suggestions, or story ideas, email the author at shrewsberry@juno.com.

#2011, Barefoot Heroines, Inc.