ForfeitII 18/12/98
By Smac
A women's' boxing match ends with a forfeit, one year after the first

Corrected 13/06/2001

It was New Year's Eve.
The four of them sat in the private lounge in Dave and Camilla's small, 
exclusive health farm. Angela and Mike had spent the week since the women's 
boxing match of Christmas Eve as guests. It was probably just as well as both 
the brave women boxers had required the attention of the club doctor after their 
brutal boxing match. 
They had drawn closer to the roaring log fire as the long evening had worn on. 
Camilla rose to refresh their drinks, it was dangerously near midnight. As she 
stood she smoothed the thick, black leather of her short mini skirt. She 
stretched, pulling her broad shoulders back, causing her vast chest to jut out 
ever more provocatively beneath her gossamer white blouse. 
Even Angela ogled the brunette's massive bosom. She sat, perched on the arm of 
her husband Mike's commodious armchair, she too wore leather; black trousers 
topped of with her current favourite, a silky thin white tee shirt with an 
elasticised neck band. Her large, brown breasts and particularly her big, erect 
teats could be seen clearly under the light material.
"It's nearly time," warned Camilla, as she returned with the various drinks.

After the frenzy of hugging, kissing and congratulations following the 
bewitching hour the subject, as so often, veered round to New Years resolutions.

Dave eventually brought the subject up. It could have been deemed a little 
indelicate, bearing in mind the neat little row of stitches in his wife's lower 
lip and those in Angie's eyebrow, not to mention her still reddened nose.
The two game women looked at one another.
"What do you think?" asked Camilla, after a few seconds.
Angela responded straight away, "I'm game. I enjoyed all the training and the 
boxing was exciting too wasn't it."
Both husbands nodded enthusiastically.
Angela eased herself up and slid her arm round Camilla's trim waist.
She had to admit the boxing training had done their figure's no harm at all. 
She felt fitter now, even after the beating she'd taken a week ago, than she 
ever had in her life.
"Yes, let's go for it," smiled Camilla, "I'll just show you something to remind 
you of Christmas Eve."
She came back to the group with the two pairs of boxing gloves and the two 
little pairs of once white shorts.
Angela took the pair of shorts she'd worn and held them up to her hips. There 
were blood splashes and stains all over them. She was taken back to that brutal 
boxing match, the corners of her mouth dropped.
Camilla couldn't resist shoving her right fist into one of the little black 
leather boxing gloves and striking a pose. 
"Don't move a muscle," stammered Angie, "I'll fetch my camera." 
She took the ruined shorts between finger and thumb and deliberately dropped 
them into Mike's lap.
He held them up to the firelight.
"Yep, that had been some scrap."
After as many exposures as were left on the film, Camilla said, "we may as well 
sort out the rules and such, in case we don't see too much of each other before 
next Christmas."
It seemed such a long way off.
"Yes, good idea," smiled Dave, "I'll do the drinks."
By the time he was seated once more the two women had already decided on two 
changes to the rules.
Neither of them, it transpired, had liked wearing the shorts in the ring. So 
they'd decided on g strings for the next fight. This would obviously require a 
long and probably expensive shopping trip during the year, but neither husband 
seemed to mind.
Angela had raised a point about the forfeit, after all she'd borne the brunt, so 
to speak, of the last one.
"Do you have to have one?" asked Mike, he hadn't exactly enjoyed watching Angie 
humiliated.
"Oh yes," Angie smiled, "I'm sure we must have one. But I don't think it should 
involve any further physical pain for the loser, that was too cruel."
She wiggled her leather clad bum on the arm of the chair, tongue in cheek.
"I know," piped Camilla, "the loser has to suck off both men in the ring as soon 
as she comes round."
"Brilliant," said Dave.
"Some forfeit," smiled Angie.

A couple of days later Dave had burst into the gym room on hearing a commotion. 
The two women had gone in there earlier to scrub the boxing ring floor clean of 
bloodstains before any of the paying guests returned from their Christmas break.
They were still in the boxing ring with their buckets of hot soapy water and 
scrubbing brushes. 
They'd begun the job in bikinis because they thought there'd be some horseplay. 
Now the bikinis were draped over the ring ropes and the two women were on their 
knees on the sudsy canvas having a breast slapping fight. Judging by the 
redness of both pairs of tits, they'd been at it for some time. They laughed 
and squealed as they slapped one another in turn.
Dave thought about rushing off to find Mike, but selfishly decided not to miss 
anything.
The two women saw him there and changed tactics somewhat. Their breasts really 
did look sore. They began to swivel their torsos and thrust their bruised 
breasts out at the same time. The noise as the huge, sweaty tits slapped 
together was quite loud. After a few minutes of this Angie grabbed her own 
right massive right mam and smacked Camilla across the face with it.
Camilla fell onto her back, legs in the air, laughing like a pixie.
Just then Mike appeared at the door.
He knew he'd missed something.
Camilla and Angela returned to the ring floor, big, bare bums in the air, their 
angry looking breasts hanging down almost to the wet canvas. 

The last thing to do before they parted was to finalise the rules for the 
Christmas Eve fight. 
 
 
1). Dress would be white silk g strings and boxing gloves.

2). The gloves to be regulation six ouncers.

3). As many three minute rounds would be fought until one of them was knocked 
out.

4). The count would be of a twenty second duration.

5). Their husbands would be present and would referee alternate rounds.

6). They would receive no attention between rounds.

7). At the end of the fight the g strings would be removed by the current 
referee, whilst their boxing gloves would remain on. The loser, once she had 
regained consciousness, would suck off the two husbands from her stool in her 
corner.

Christmas Eve was on a Thursday, by the Monday, when all the health farm guests 
had left, Camilla was left in a very jittery condition.

She knew the boxing match was still on for Thursday. She and Angela had met a 
couple of times during the year. Once for the shopping trip, which lasted two 
days, to buy the little g strings for the fight, and a couple of times to train 
together in the well appointed gym at Camilla's. It had seemed strange to both 
women to be in the gym together training to fight one another. Then it still 
seemed a long time off, both now......
She fussed and fidgeted all the time. Last time she'd not really known what to 
expect, never having boxed before. But this time she more or less knew what it 
was she was letting herself in for. They'd both a further year's muscle, 
fitness and ring craft. True, they were both 43 years old now, but she knew in 
her heart of hearts that they'd both be hurt again. She'd even gone to the 
extent of talking it over with Dave. 
He'd suggested inviting someone who'd medical training to come and watch the 
fight.
Camilla had thought for a long time before ringing a woman GP who was a friend 
and a customer at the farm. Camilla had hinted to her before of her proclivity 
for hard, physical exercise.
The doctor, Julia, had been invited to lunch on the Tuesday so that she could be 
forewarned of what to expect.
Her eyes widened when, after lunch, Camilla had showed her the two little pairs 
of white boxing shorts they'd boxed in last year. 
But she nodded slowly.
"Will you be wearing these again on Thursday?" was her pragmatic response.
"No we'll throw them away eventually I expect, we bought some little g strings 
for this year, would you like to see?"
And that was the last Dave saw of her until the night of the fight.

Angela had arranged to arrive first thing Thursday morning so that she and 
Camilla could, as they'd done the year previously, get each other in shape for 
the evening boxing match. Getting in shape, involved long periods in the pool, 
Jacuzzi and sauna followed by retiring to Camilla's vast dressing room to shave 
one another all over. This done they had a conventional shower and a couple of 
hours nap before the evening's ordeal.
It was during the hour or so they'd spent depilating each other, that Camilla 
realised she'd made a blunder. She told Angie all about her doctor friend 
Julia, whom she'd invited to the boxing match.
Angela, with womanly practicality saw the sense in this.
"Yes, but what about our little forfeit game?"
Angela thought for a while, "we could always tell her?"
Camilla thought that the end of the fight was the time when they'd probably most 
need her help.
"Yes, let's wait till she comes, then, when you've seen her, we'll decide what's 
best."

As soon a Julia arrived Camilla pulled Angie to one side, "well, what do you 
think?"
"She looks a good sport to me, why don't you tell her the rules?"
Camilla went over to take Julia's coat and steered her into one of the reception 
areas. 
Angela could see the doctor nodding and her cheeks blushing. Finally the 
corners of her mouth turned up, they were ok. she thought.
"Piece of cake," smiled Camilla, she just laughed when I told her about the 
forfeit.
"I saw her," grinned Angie.
"No harm done then, let's get ready."
As if on cue, the two husbands appeared and whisked the doctor, who was much 
younger than the two boxers, away into the gym to sit down.
Camilla and Angela each wore very loose fitting tracksuits with bra and pants 
underneath. So, once in Camilla's dressing room it took them just seconds to 
strip naked. 
Camilla had looked after the g strings and she turned to a drawer to get them. 
Angie eyed her bum, it looked tighter than a year ago, her waist was certainly 
narrower, making her breasts seem even larger.
She mentioned it to Camilla.
They indulged themselves for several minutes, measuring one another and 
scribbling the results on a scrap of notepaper.
"Who's reffing the first round?" asked Angie.
"Dave, I expect."
"I'll give him this for the announcement then," grinned Angie.
They spent several more minutes tying the sides of the tiny silk g strings into 
neat bows, patting the little triangles of white silk over their baby bare pubic 
mounds.
Even with the strings on and properly tied, their very sex lips could still be 
seen quite clearly, so sheer was the already moist silk.
When they were both satisfied with the strings, Camilla collected two enormous 
towels from her bathroom next door. 
She took one and wrapped carefully round her friend's broad shoulders. Then she 
grabbed the two top corners of the towel and pulled Angie's face into her huge, 
bare, brown breasts.
Angie shook her head gently from side to side, revelling in the mounds of warm, 
welcoming tit flesh.
Camilla finally pulled back and, picking up her own towel said, "right, let's do 
it," as she drew the huge towel round her shoulders.
In the gym the doctor had sat since donning her PVC apron and gloves, quite 
bemused watching the two men, dressed just in their boxer shorts, in the boxing 
ring.
They'd not been idle. There were many and various lengths of surgical tapes 
festooned from the rough ring ropes.
All three heads turned as the door opened and the barefoot, barely covered women 
burst into the room.
Dave was amazed at how keen the two of them seemed to get themselves into the 
boxing ring, in view of how badly hurt they'd both been last time they'd done 
this, a year ago to the day. He could feel a familiar bulge in his shorts 
though as Camilla plonked herself down on her little stool, towel gaping, most 
of her huge, brown breasts on show and just the minute vee of white silk between 
her barrel thighs.
He and Mike began on their wife's fists.
First they laid several short lengths of tape over their boxers knuckles, then a 
couple of longer pieces right round the women's hands to keep that in place.
Then the part which Camilla particularly had come to enjoy the most, the little 
black boxing gloves went on.
The gloves were very tightly laced, confining both women's small hands into 
nothing but tight fists. The only thing their hands were good for after the 
lacing up, was for punching, and punch they would.
Lastly the longest lengths of tape were wound round the whole, small cuff of the 
boxing gloves, these gloves were going nowhere till the fight was over and one 
of the brave women was unconscious on the canvas on which their husbands stood.
Both women sensed that there wasn't long to go now before the pain would begin.
They stood stoically and the huge towels slid from their wide shoulders.
Outside the ring Julia's eyes widened.
They were going to do it.
The boxers stood tall, both planted the little black boxing gloves over the 
little bows at their hips and thrust out their magnificent chests while David 
read from the scrap of paper Angela had given him as they'd clambered through 
the ring ropes.

"This is a boxing match of unlimited three minute rounds between," he nodded 
towards his wife Camilla, "Camilla, at 172lbs. 43-24-42 and Angela 170lbs. 42-
23-40," he swallowed before admitting that they were both 43 years old.
"May the best girl win."
He nodded to Mike, who was poised ready to ding the bell to start the two women 
off. 
But he stayed his hand as they walked unbidden from their respective corners.
They grabbed each other's tiny black boxing gloves first, then they craned their 
heads forwards, over their shelf like bosoms, to kiss each other firmly on the 
lips, their massive breasts crushed together, already sticky with the sheen of 
fear induced sweat on them.
As soon as the two women parted, Mike dinged the bell. He watched the doctor's 
face as the first couple of punches went in.
Camilla jabbed Angie in the mouth with her left and Angie countered with a right 
cross to the brunette's left eye. 
Julia pursed her lips and squirmed on her seat.
Again it was the sound of the punches that worried Dave so much, especially that 
roundhouse right to his wife's eye.
In the ring the two big women were still doing what they had got in there to do.
The little gloves thudded hard into their faces and tits. They certainly 
didn't seem scared of the extra punching power the intervening year's hard 
training given them.
Mike dinged the bell and they each turned sharply for their corners.
Neither made to sit on the stool.
As it was the rules were such that their husbands weren't to tend them anyway, 
so it was simply a case of bravado.
Julia studied both boxers carefully, noting that Camilla's eye was already 
discoloured, and they'd only been at one another for three minutes. 
"What if it goes on for a long time?" she shuddered.
She beckoned Mike over.
"How many rounds did they box last year?" she asked.
"Um, nineteen," said Mike.
"Oh, my God," she groaned.
"What sort of state were they in by the end?" she asked.
"Blood and snot all over the place," he replied proudly, "you wait till they 
really get going," he boasted.
She swallowed hard as he headed for the ring and Dave picked up the bell.
They came out for the second and punched one another's right glove.
That was the last punch of the round that didn't hit the target though.
They both stayed with the head for the whole round.
This time when the bell rang out they walked back to their corners more slowly 
and plonked themselves down on their stools.
Obviously getting punched in the face for three minutes had taken it's toll.
Both boxers faces were reddened.
When Angie smiled up at Mike, her teeth were smudged with blood.
He shook his head, he couldn't even offer her some water.
She sensed his concern and laid her right boxing glove on his forearm.
He patted the hard little glove with his hand.
All too soon he jumped down from the ring apron and grabbed the little bell.
He rang it and his wife and Camilla began the task of thumping one another in 
the face again.
It was punch and be punched for the whole of the third.
Apart from two straight rights into Camilla's left breast, it was their faces 
that took the leather.
Both women bled from the lips now, their chins wet with it, the tops of their 
heaving bosoms flecked.
Julia's eyes widened in disbelief when they both jumped up ready for round four.
Mike slid along the ropes to a neutral corner as the women met in the centre of 
the ring. 
Simultaneously, they each threw cruel straight rights to each other's left 
breast. Both faces went white, despite the damage. 
Even Julia, outside the ring, gasped.
Each boxer was reminded of the exquisite pain a solid breast punch causes.
It was a turning point in the fight, breasts were on the menu.
Both returned to their corners with crimson faces and breasts.
The heavy punches had been about half to the face, half to the big, still soft 
breasts. The two pairs of tits had been crushed and spread all over their 
heaving chests.
Julia, her chest measurement a very creditable thirty eight C cup, couldn't 
imagine how they must be hurting.
The boxers merely sat there bearing their pain, both actually seemed to be 
waiting for the bell!
They rose, keen enough for the fourth round.
Their huge breasts faired better during the cruel round, but their faces....
Both pairs of eyes were visibly darkened and Angie's soft lips were like raw 
liver, the upper slopes of her breasts were covered in flecks and drops of blood 
and even Camilla's chest was spattered each time Angie exhaled sharply. 
Although in truth more of the gore on her chest was from her own streaming 
mouth.
Julia also noticed a thin trickle of blood from each nostril of Camilla's hard 
swollen nose.
"Will they be so keen to go out for the fifth?" she wondered.
They rose stoically enough when Dave dinged the bell.
The soggy gloves began to thud into faces and breasts again, each time a woman 
was hit in the face flecks of blood and sweat fanned from their heads. Each 
time the leather thudded into the now swelling tit meat the recipient keened 
with pain.
They finished the round grey faced and slightly stooped.
Both noses ran red now, blood dripped steadily off each chin to spatter the 
cleavage of their hardening breasts. Each pair of tits, under the sheen of 
sweat and blood, looked very red, swollen and sore.
Julia watched them walking slowly to their respective corners.
When Mike jumped out of the ring, ready to ring the bell for round six, she 
beckoned him over.
"Why are they doing this Mike?"
"Don't ask me, Angie's talked about nothing else for the last couple of weeks."
"She looks a right mess now," observed the doctor.
"They won't want you fussing around them yet," thought Mike.
She seemed to read his thoughts and sagged back into her chair in a resigned 
manner. Anyway, to be honest, despite her medical reservations, she was 
enjoying the scrap so far.
Dave swung Camilla's little stool out of the ring, Angie pushed hers out of the 
way with her sweaty left thigh.
The bell dinged and they met at ring centre for the sixth time. 
They nodded their bloody heads and tucked the soggy little boxing gloves up 
under their dripping chins.
They both head hunted for the entire round, each woman had blood trickling down 
their bulging, bruised belly as they shuffled back to their corners.
They sat slumped on their stools, blood dripping onto the already stained canvas 
between their bare, spattered feet.
They came out for the seventh to resume the toe to toe punching.
Near the end of the round they clinched in the centre of the ring, whacking one 
another between the legs every few seconds.
It seemed to Julia that they were actually taking turns. She noticed too that 
the blood streaming from the women's noses was now running down their opponent's 
back.
Things continued in much the same vein until the number of rounds went on into 
double figures.
By the twelfth there was so much blood down over both women, Julia was convinced 
both noses must be broken.
She mentioned it to Dave.
"Yeah, have a look if you like, but they won't stop until one of them's 
knocked cold."
She shuddered.
Seconds later she was climbing awkwardly through the rough ring ropes.
Both boxers looked suddenly very defiant.
Camilla was nearest.
Very gingerly Julia palpitated her hard swollen, streaming nose with her PVC 
gloves.
"You have a broken nose."
She looked down over the brunette's blood streaked belly and stained g string.
"You've lost quite a lot of blood too."
Camilla simply shrugged.
Julia held her bloody gloves up at chest height as she ambled over to Angela, 
clearly out of her depth, having just been able to state the obvious.
She felt Angie's obvious nose.
"Your's has gone as well."
"I know," shrugged Angie, "I felt it go a couple of rounds back."
"And you're going to carry on?"
Angie nodded slowly and, gripping her blood streaked thighs with her soggy 
boxing gloves, pushed herself upright.
Julia shook her head and Mike passed her a corner of Angie's huge towel to wipe 
her hands.
Camilla stood stoically.
Julia took the hint and dived out of the ring before the bell for the thirteenth 
sounded.
The two women boxers touched gloves again and then began the job of punching one 
another in their ruined faces.
Julia's guts churned as she imagined what the devastating punches were doing to 
the women's broken noses.
By the end of the seventeenth round both women boxers were covered in blood from 
head to foot.
Julia had seen far less gore in the operating theatre.
The boxers shuffled back to their corners. It was debatable whether either of 
them could properly see. 
Angie, especially, now that the old wound from their last boxing match had 
opened up, in spades. 
The ring floor, especially in the two women's corner areas, was red with blood.
The upper slopes of both women's swollen breasts were covered in blood and snot 
from their broken noses.
In desperation, at the bell for the eighteenth, Angie uppercut Camilla smack on 
the little silk vee of her g string.
As there hadn't been many body punches in the last few rounds, and due to her 
general physical condition, Camilla's muscle shield wasn't particularly well 
tensed. Her mouth formed an 'O' and the air whooshed out of her. She doubled 
over.
Angie responded in the classic way, a cruel right uppercut to the centre of her 
friend's face.
Blood spurted onto the canvas as Camilla fell flat on her busted face, gloves 
palm down on the spattered ring floor, her bare, sweaty bum quivering, her back 
heaving.
She lay there, Dave got into the ring and stood in her corner.
Angie stood, only just, her big, bare bum stuck out, her blood sodden boxing 
gloves clasped round her meaty thighs, just above her trembling knees.
Mike who'd reffed the last round, when his wife had scored her hollow victory, 
came up behind her and slid her sodden string down her spattered thighs. He 
bobbed down and relieved Camilla of her string also, while she lay unconscious.
Mike walked his stooping wife backwards to her corner.
She sagged thankfully onto her stool, almost blinded her eyes now swollen like 
purple hen's eggs, her nose all over her face. Still her managed to raise her 
right fist above her head, before resting the back of her aching head on the 
cornerpost. The blonde hair round her hurting face was red with her blood and 
it still ran in little streams down over her bruised belly and on over her baby 
bare cunt.
Camilla began to stir, keening softly as consciousness returned.
Dave managed to get her upright, somehow, and he helped her shuffle over to her 
corner and the little stool.
Mike savoured the moment as he patted Angie's shoulder and made off towards her 
opponent's corner.
"Well, who's going first?" he asked as he dropped his boxer shorts.