Hollywood Catpack
By The Raven (raven@ravensword.com)
Chapter 1, Part II of II
Update: 08/03/1998 to raven

SYNOPSIS from part I of Chapter 1:  Rocky Walsh, budding sex
symbol, is seeking to join the power Catfire Club circa 1964 in
Hollywood.  Dino Martini, Peter Lawford, and others have gathered
to watch numerous women fight in a sunken pit filled with sand.
Rocky has just jumped into the "litterbox" to fight a powerful 
Hollywood producers' wife: Angie Prickerson, who is also a blond
sex symbol.

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The first thing I remember about the pit was that the sand 
felt warm and wonderful on my bare feet.
	Angie wasted no time.   She raced over to me and 
grabbed a fistful of my hair.
	I responded by slapping her cheek with my right 
hand.
	It took Angie’s breath away for a second.  Perhaps 
most rookies didn’t fight back the first time.
	I slapped the blonde again, and then a third time, the 
last one being the hardest.  I pressed my luck too much by 
trying to slap her a fourth--Angie caught my wrist, twisted 
my right arm behind my back.
	I yelled as the pain shot up my elbow.  I reached 
behind me with my left arm and grabbed a clump of Angie’s 
hair.  We stumbled around the sand for about a minute, me 
pulling Angie’s hair, Angie jerking my right arm.
	With a grunt of exertion, Angie ran forward, and 
smashed my body into the wall of the pit.  I lost my grip on 
Angie’s hair.
	The blonde bombshell grabbed my left wrist, and now 
both of my arms were twisted behind my back.  Angie’s 
strength was incredible.  She twirled me around and slammed 
my body into the sand floor.  She sat down on my ass and 
hooked my left arm over the right, pinning both of my arms 
with just her left wrist.  Angie used her right hand to grab a 
fistful of sand, and rubbed it all over my face.
	"You have to eat a lot of shit in Hollywood, honey!"  
Angie shouted.
	The crowd roared with laughter.
	That made me even angrier.  I wrenched my body 
hard to the side, ignoring the pain in my arms, breaking 
Angie’s hold.  Angie fell on her side.  I rolled over her and 
stood up, but I was partially blind from the sand in my eyes.
	Angie launched up to her feet and slapped me hard in 
the face.  The blow caused me to fall on my back.
	"Holy mackrel!"  I heard Dino shout.  The rest of the 
crowd applauded Angie’s move like this was a tennis match at 
Wimbledon.
	Angie lept on top of me, instantly locking her hands 
around mine.  I remember her hard nipples rubbing against 
mine through our bikini bras.
	"Still wanna fight?"  Angie said, looking deep into my 
eyes.
	"YES!"  I yelled and forced my body to turn over.  I 
had Angie on her back now, my breasts were on top of hers, 
excited as well.  My hands had her arms pinned on the sand.
	Angie smiled faintly at me.  "Pretty good for a kitty."  
Then her lower lip began to tremble, as her arms rippled and 
forced mine up off the floor.
	It was a test of strength, just like in my dream.  
Except that even with advantage of being on top and using my 
weight against her, Angie was still stronger than I!
	I grunted as I tried to press the bitch’s arms back 
down.  I tried for over a minute. Sweat beads were popping 
over my forehead.  I got nowhere.
	"Can’t make it, huh, sweetie?"  Angie laughed.  Her 
back still resting on the sand, the blonde brought her legs 
around my torso, and squeezed.
	"Arrrrgghhh!"  I yelled.  The pain shot into my 
diaphragm, as I felt the air being squeezed out of my lungs.  
Angie kept up the pressure, smiling at me all the while.
	Now I was trapped.  I tried to wriggle out of the 
hold, but Angie’s legs were like steel cables holding me down.  
The blonde cackled at my plight and I knew I was going to 
suffocate.
	I did the only thing I could think of:  spit into Angie’s 
eyes.
	It surprised her for a second, long enough for me to 
use my knees and quickly stand up.  I tore my hands out of 
Angie’s grip, suffering some cuts on my wrists as her nails 
raked me.
	I stunned the crowd, and perhaps myself, when I 
grabbed Angie’s ankles, dragged her legs backward over her 
spine, and executed a perfect Boston Crab maneuver.  
Perhaps it was the movie I had just watched that had given 
me the idea.  I prefer to think it was the sense-memory of 
my past incarnations that instinctively told me what to do.
	I gripped Angie’s strong little thighs in my arms, 
ripping them apart, bending her body backward in a "C" type 
of shape.  I could feel her body tremble and shake.
	"You fucking bitch!"  Angie cursed at me.
	Even in that position, she was fighting me, and I put 
all my strength into keeping her down.  Her legs threatened 
to kick free of my grip at any second.
	I took my right foot and stomped Angie’s head flat 
into the sand.
	Her legs flailed about even harder against my sweaty 
palms, and kicked away free.   I quickly grabbed her legs and 
reinstated a stronger grip than I had before.
	The men standing around the pit were all laughing.
	I kept Angie’s head pressed down for almost a 
minute, when Dino said:  "Hey, let the lady come up for air, I 
think she’s got something to say to you."
	I didn’t even know that you were supposed to fight to 
the point of submission.  I had just assumed that you just 
kept fighting until the other bitch was totally subdued--
another flash of the lost warrior in me.
	I lifted my foot off the blonde’s head.
	Angie coughed up sand, spitting out the words:  "I 
give up, honey."
	The match lasted only about five minutes.
	Beginner’s luck.


The sex didn’t come till later in the party, after the other 
60’s TV bimbos and models had taken a crack at each other.  
I realized how lucky I had been to start off fighting Angie 
right off the bat, instead of some Coppertone chick.  Stan 
had pulled some strings.  The bastard was beginning to make 
himself useful.
	Dino Martini and Peter Lawford were all over me 
while they watched the rest of the pit-fights.  Art 
Prickerson was all over Stan, slapping his back and telling 
off-color jokes.  I was sure I would be in a Prickerson 
production soon.  Angie was off in a corner of the garden, 
drinking wine and licking her wounds of embarrassment.
	The main event happened just after the sun went 
down at 9pm: Stella Stellar vs. Margaret-Ann Magnuson.  
Margaret-Ann was a Swedish beauty with flaming red hair, 
big boobs, and a tapered waist that rolled down to dancer’s 
legs, that I found later were very, very strong.  Margaret’s 
tits flopped against her chest after she had jumped down 
into the pit to face Stella.
	The match was the most incredible thing I had ever 
witnessed, even better than the Big M match.
	The two starlets wrestled for over twenty minutes, 
by far the longest contest of the evening.  Stella was sharp, 
fierce, fast, and intimidating, but Margaret-Ann had raw 
strength and power.  At one point, the red-head had the 
blonde in a bow and arrow hold.  Stella’s body was lifted up 
into the air, her breasts threatening to erupt from the polka 
dot bikini top.  You could see hear Stella moaning as she 
fought the impulse to give up.  Her nails bit into Margaret’s 
arms, and finally the red-head had to give up her position of 
power.  Stella rolled away and braced her body on the sand as 
Margaret came upon her.  The blonde’s claws raked upward 
and across, tearing the red-head’s bikini right off her body.  
Margaret-Ann stood totally nude in the pit, somewhat 
in shock.  Stella’s foot kicked her in the chest, and she fell 
down on her back.
	The look in Stella’s eyes had changed:  she had 
suddenly become something almost not quite human.  I could 
see a feral aspect to her as the blonde quickly whipped off 
her own bikini and circled Margaret-Ann.  The men and 
women around me whistled and shouted in support of a naked 
catfight.  That’s why they all loved Stella.  There was nothing 
she wouldn’t do, in an arena or in bed, to get a part in a movie.
	Stella leapt on top of Margaret, much the same way 
she had done to Marilyn in the movie I had watched.  I saw 
their nipples rub against each other and felt my own tits 
suddenly stand erect.  The red-head was fighting back, 
rolling over and coming up on top of Stella.  The men were 
oogling Margaret’s ass as she straddled the blonde.  I found 
myself tantalized as well by the quality of the red-head’s 
butt.
	Another dream-flash hit me suddenly:  

I am naked in bed, riding a petite woman’s ass 
with a dildo strapped to waist.  Despite her size, her 
strength is formidable.  Her dark red hair swirls over the 
muscles in her back.  We are both deriving a great 
pleasure from the ass-fucking.  "Dorian!"  I cry out.  
"Mistress!"  she shouts.


Stella’s wail shocks me back to reality.
	The blonde flipped Margaret off her body.  She 
scooted her ass over to where the red-head was laying, and 
encircled her legs around Margaret’s torso.  Squeezing her 
legs like a vise, Stella applied a half-nelson to Margaret’s 
neck.  With the free hand, Stella grabbed Margaret's breast 
and pinched it.
	The red-head wailed.
	"Give up, bitch!"  Stella commanded, and bit into 
Margaret’s earlobe.
	Margaret shook her head.
	The blonde bent the red-head’s spine backwards an 
inch or two more, squeezing her legs even harder, forcing the 
air out of Margaret’s lungs.  No matter how hard the red-
head tried to break away, Stella had her tied up.
Stella’s eyes looked up and locked with mine for a few 
seconds.  Stella smiled, and I knew what she was telling me:  
	This is what I am going to do to you next time.
	The threat, the domination, the naked catfight in the 
pit:  all it did was turn me on, make me so horny, hornier than 
I had ever been in my entire life--but only a woman would 
satisfy me now.
	I heard Margaret-Ann yell out her submission to 
Stella as I was walking back towards the house, where Angie 
was sitting.
	The blonde knew what I was coming to her for.  She 
downed her glass of wine, stood up, and led me into the 
house.


Angie’s tongue tasted like cigarettes and her skins was rough 
as sandpaper, but I didn’t care, this was my first lesbian 
fuck, and it may have been the best fuck of all.
	Our bikinis fell to the carpet the moment the door to 
her bedroom had closed.  I grabbed her buns, kissed her lips, 
picked her up and rammed her body down on the bed.  I had 
suddenly become like a ravenous creature that hadn’t eaten 
for days as we kissed, caressed each other’s tits, bit into 
each other’s neck.  
The rough little dyke was fabulous.
	Her hands stroked my pussy.  I was so wet and knew 
I could come at any moment.  I saw the rails of the four-
poster bed and got a great idea.  I got up on my knees and 
grabbed the rail of the bedpost, straddling my cunt on top of 
Angie’s face.
	I didn’t need to say anything.  Angie grabbed my 
waist and guided my pussy into her mouth.  She ate me like a 
watermelon at first, her lips smacking as her tongue plowed 
into my wet vagina.  I rubbed my breasts as the blonde 
tongued me.  I was in heaven.  My body started to shake as I 
felt my orgasm coming.  I grabbed the rail with both hands, 
and Angie grabbed my buns to keep my waist on top of her 
mouth.
	"You are...a..."  I panted, coming quickly,  "great 
fucking bitch!  Ohhhhhhhhh!!!!!"
	I shouted as I came.
	Angie didn’t let me go.  She kept eating my love box.
	And I kept on coming and shouting.  Multiple orgasms, 
years before they became fashionable.  I fell back on the 
bed, thinking it was over.  Angie sat up and dove into my 
pussy again.  I came one last time, my arms and legs flailing 
helplessly.
	The blonde finally stopped and rested her head on 
top of my breasts, panting heavily.
	The images from the dream came back into my mind 
as I recovered from the orgasm.  I flipped Angie over onto 
her stomach and straddled her buns, as I remembered 
straddling Dorian’s anus.  For a few moments I wished I was a 
man, with a penis I could thrust into Angie’s little behind.  I 
used my fingers instead, thrusting in Angie’s cunt, making the 
blonde bitch groan with pleasure.
	I felt ravenous again, and knelt down to kiss Angie’s 
salty little cunt.  She was still kneeling on all fours.  Angie 
pushed her ass into my face as I keep french kissing her 
pussy over and over again.  Soon she was delirious was joy, 
and started swearing at me as she began to come.
	"Dirty little whore!"  Angie said.  "If I wasn’t drunk I 
wouldn’t have lost...ohhhh...my god!  Fuck me, bitch!"
	It was her turn to lose control.
	We rested in each other’s arms, just waiting for the 
strength to return so we could fuck all over again.
	Suddenly, the door slammed open.
	Art and Stan stumbled through it.
	"Whoooo-we!"  Art exclaimed.  "Looks like the girls 
wasted no time!"
	"Let’s join ‘em!"  Stan replied, and started taking off 
his clothes.  His penis was erect.
	My heart sank a bit.  I knew what was coming, the 
guys were going to have sex with us.  Only I didn’t feel like 
sharing Angie with anyone.  But what could I do if I refused?  
Art was too powerful.  It was the whole point of the Club.  
Sex in return for movie roles.
	"What took you boys so long?"  Angie teased.  "We 
started without you."
	Art walked over to the bed naked, his eyes glittering 
at my body, watching me fondle his wife’s breasts.  I tried to 
smile and got ready for his touch, ready to act like I loved 
him like a God.  Art’s penis was shooting out from his body 
like a rod.
	He sat on the bed, but made no move to touch either 
Angie or I.  I began to have a weird feeling about what was 
going to happen.
	The hair on my neck raised up again, as Stan touched 
Art’s shoulder.  It wasn’t just a touch, it was a caress.
	I gasped as I watched my boyfriend kiss Art 
Prickerson’s lips.
	Art responded by stroking Stan’s penis.
	"I didn’t know how to tell you,"  Stan whispered, 
looking at me like a shy little boy.
	"Ol’ Stan here is AC-DC,"  Art grunted, and grabbed 
Stan’s buns, forcing him down on the bed stomach first.  Art 
grabbed a bottle of petroleum jelly from the night stand and 
started lubricating Stan’s ass with his thumbs.
	I was in shock.  Sex with Stan was boring, but I never 
thought it was because he was gay!  I had just assumed he 
was a lousy lover.  Now I knew the truth about him, just as he 
must have known about me.  He moaned with pleasure as Art 
probed his butt with his fingers.
	"Your man’s gay, just like you,"  Angie said, and with 
that seized upon my weakness.  She suddenly flipped me over 
onto my tummy.  Out of nowhere, a pair of handcuffs 
appeared, and chained my wrists to the bedpost.  The blonde 
got out of the bed and took something out of a drawer.  I 
heard her legs stepping into something, and a strap locking.
	"You bitch!"  I yelled.  "Get me out of this!"
	Angie got back on top of me, straddling my waist.  I 
felt a strange cool rubber object rub against my butt.
	"You got lucky today, sweetheart,"  Angie rasped into 
my ear.  "I was too drunk ta fight ya proper.  My mistake, I 
underestimated you, cause ya must have fought bitches 
before."  
	Art passed her the jelly, and she rubbed some into 
my ass.  The nails tore me up and I squealed.  I tried to push 
Angie away with my legs but she forced my body back down.
	"Noooo!!!"  I cried.  "Stan, don’t let them--"
	Stan suddenly yelped, but in pleasure, not pain.  I 
turned my head to see that Art was thrusting his penis into 
Stan’s butt.
	"There are a lot of things ya don’t know making it in 
Hollywood."  Angie gripped my shoulders.  "The fightin’ never 
stops, not in the bedroom or the boardroom.  Never let yer 
guard down for a second, honey!"
	The dildo plunged into my ass.  My head collided 
against the soft pillow.  My breasts hit the mattress with 
each push of the dildo.
	I cried.
	I wailed.
	My breath went away.
	I buckled my hips and tried to throw Angie off.
	She grabbed my tits from behind and squeezed them 
hard.
	Finally, I gave up.  A few minutes after I 
surrendered, the ass-fucking started to become pleasurable.  
The strange sensation of this violent pleasure seemed 
familiar.  Angie grew more and more excited.  The blonde 
grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled my head up as she 
began to climax.  This triggered another dream of a past-
life...


	Back in the marble arena, I am laying on the hard 
floor naked.  Cuts and bruises all over my body.  My 
right wrist is broken, but I still haven’t formally 
submitted.  I know I am finished, but I do not cry, I 
don’t give my opponent the satisfaction.  The blonde 
femizon is on top of my back, fucking me in the ass with 
her fist in front of 5,000 women.  This is her greatest 
victory, my greatest defeat.  "Slavery or death?"  she 
shouts, picking my head up by my hair.  "I’ll get my 
revenge in the next life, Celine!"  I hiss back.  The 
blonde grabs my chin with her free hand and snaps my 
neck.


	Screaming bought me back.
	It was Art and Angie, shouting as they came almost 
at the same time.
Angie stopped my ass fuck.  She pulled the dildo out 
of me, and began to kiss her husband.  Art laid down upon the 
bed while Angie stuck the dildo in his ass and rode him to 
heaven, while Stan and I rested.  Art yelled with each thrust 
and begged Angie to do it harder and deeper each time.
	I began to cry, thinking of the dream, suddenly 
realizing that what I was now involved in could have fatal 
repercussions.  Fear began to rush over me.  I cried hard, 
thinking of the woman who died in the arena, the woman who 
felt uncannily like me.  My body began to shake and convulse.
	"Where’s the keys?"  Stan asked, and rolled off the 
bed.
	"Over there,"  I heard Angie grunt, as she continued 
to pump her husband’s ass.
	Stan unlocked my cuffs.  "It’s OK.  You’re free.  No 
one’s going to hurt you."
	I rolled over and rubbed my face, trying to compose 
myself.
	"Pretty baby’s not so tough, eh?"  Angie said, leering 
at me in contempt, whipping locks of hair out of her eyes.
	The whole kinky scene suddenly felt like one big 
nightmare.  I stood up, pushed Stan away, and ran into the 
bathroom.  I cried some more.  
	Who was that woman just now?  I thought to myself.  
	I was thinking of two women.  The young woman of twenty-
four who had a normal childhood and ordinary dreams of 
stardom, who suddenly turned on a dime and became a lesbian 
catfighting slut!  Her boyfriend was a fag.  Her favorite 
Hollywood celebrities were all hinked on kinky sex and drugs.  
	The other woman in my dreams was a bigger mystery...who 
was she, this warrior who fought other females to the death 
in some kind of Roman nation of female warriors?  I had no 
idea.  Reincarnation and past-lives were topics that were not 
yet in vogue in L.A.  I just knew that it felt all too real to be 
a simple dream or fantasy.
	When the tears managed to subside, I turned to 
shower for comfort.  I blasted the heat on high and shoved 
the images of femizons from my mind.  The soap wiped away 
the sweat and the sex from my body.
	I looked at myself in the mirror as I toweled myself 
dry.  I saw the door open suddenly:  Stella.  The blonde was 
naked.  I could smell the sex on her body.  She looked at me 
with contempt.
	"Scram, kitty!"  she said.
	Again, something came over me, a determination not 
to cut Stella any slack.  I dropped my towel, turned to her 
and said:  "I liked watching you fight.  You’re pretty good for 
a whore from the boondocks."
	Stella hissed, rushed me, caught my chest in a bear 
hug, and slammed my back down on the carpet.
	"I am the Queen of Hollywood and you will submit to 
me!"  Stella shouted.
	I grew excited as she straddled my body, her breasts 
rubbing against mine.  My arousal was something I needed to 
learn how to control, for it allowed the blonde to quickly pin 
me down.  Her teeth bit down on my nipple hard.
I squealed and squirmed.  I could feel that Stella was 
aroused by my body as well.  Her lips engulfed my mouth and 
sucked at my tongue.  We kissed for several minutes.
	Stella shifted her body and shoved her breasts in my 
face.  
	"Kiss them, honey,"  she panted.  "You make me so 
hot."
	I took one of her nipples in my mouth and swirled my 
tongue around it.  Her breasts were so big and juicy.   I 
wondered why I had waited so long to experience this.  No 
wonder men loved us so much.
	I was enraptured, then Stella had to spoil it by 
saying:  "Ahhhhhhhh.  Yes!  You are my slave!"
	That broke the spell.  I bit down hard on her breast, 
searing her tit with pain.
	Stella screamed, and I took advantage of her, flipping 
her over on her back.  I slapped her face hard and pinned her 
arms flat.
	"Now you listen, bitch!"  I hissed.  "I am not your 
slave!  The next time this little club of yours get together, I 
am going to show everyone who’s the better woman.  You’ll be 
eating my pussy in front of Dino and Peter and Hef...and I’ll 
get your next role!"
	"Treacherous bitch!"  Stella shouted, and squirmed to 
push me off her body.
	I let go of her arms, stood up quickly, and stomped 
down on her cunt with the ball of my foot, as hard as I 
possibly could.
	Stella grabbed her pussy protectively, crying in pain.
"Next time, sugar,"  I said, and left the bathroom.
	Stan was waiting for me in the bedroom, dressed in 
his clothes, obviously worried.  He handed me my bikini and 
said:  "How ya doing, kid?"
	I saw Angie sitting up in bed, looking at me.  Her 
husband rested on his back with one arm over his eyes.
	"Everything’s OK now,"  I replied, putting on the 
clothes.  "I’ve just kicked Stella Stellar’s cunt and left her in 
a shit-fit on the bathroom floor."
	Angie slapped her husbands tummy and cackled.  Art 
Prickerson sat up with a sudden jolt.
	"Oh fucking shit!"  Stan exclaimed, tearing at his 
hair.  "Do you know what the hell you’ve just done?"
	"Yes,"  I replied calmly.  "I’ve gone to the front of 
the line to take on the Queen of the Hollywood Catpack!"
Angie just kept laughing and laughing, slapping the 
mattress over and over again.  Art started to cackle too.  
	The laughter spread like a disease, infecting Stan, then the 
rest of Hollywood for the next few days, as the gossip 
mongers in the Catfire Club spread the word.
	I didn’t understand what was so hilarious, until I 
fought Stella two weeks later, on the floor of the Chicago 
Playboy club.

To be continued in Hollywood Catpack, Chapter 2...