The Prize
By Smac

Corrected 2/07/2001


Vivien sighed when she heard the door softly open.
She'd only been in the recovery room for five minutes but, to her, it seemed
more like five seconds.
She opened one puffy eye.
It was Moira, the physiotherapist.
She sighed again.
Moira looked her up and down.
"I've seen worse," she thought, callously.
After what the girl had just been through, a no limit boxing match in four ounce 
gloves, her injuries could have been much more serious, a look into her defeated 
opponent's room would bear that out.
She lay on her back on the massage table. Her long brown hair fanned out round 
her bashed face. The tiny scrap of blood spotted material covering her cunt, the 
only thing she wore bar the small, dull black four ouncers, was sodden with 
sweat, the string which formed the waistband was wet with blood. The gloves were 
laid palm down on her sweat shiny brown thighs. Her large, brown breasts flopped 
outwards on her heaving chest, opening out the cleavage where, during the fight 
and for a while afterwards rivulets of sweat and later blood had run down 
between her huge tits. Only her nose was still bleeding now, evidenced by two 
trails of wet, red blood down over each flushed cheek.
Moira put down the tray she'd brought in with her and whipped a handful of 
tissues from a box by the bed.
She lifted Vivien's head fairly gently and spread out the tissues on her 
precious table before laying her back down.
Vivien knew that she'd be more concerned about the club furniture than her 
injuries. She had reckoned on being out of the game for a month or two after 
this fight and Moira would have already come to the same conclusion. She would 
be concentrating her efforts on the girls who could get into 
the ring next month and earn some money at the turnstiles.
The scots girl carefully picked up the tray again.
"You're the business now you've defended your sash three times in a row, you get 
to wear the two cees.
"Not now," groaned Vivien.
"Yep, you'll need to have them in when you go to pick up your purse and have 
your medical, so we may as well get it over and done with."
The cees were large, heavy gold ornaments in the form of a cee, cee cee stood 
for club champ and would be worn into the ring for each subsequent defence of 
her championship sash. The trouble was that they were attached to thick pins 
that were pushed through piercings in the champs nipples. 
Vivien was especially peeved because although she already had her teats pierced, 
her pins went from side to side whereas the club pins needed to go vertically 
for the cees to come the right way up, and, she thought grimly, the piercing 
needed to be very deep, she'd seen enough of the other girls 
who'd had it done.
Moira stared at the boxer's huge, bloody breasts.
"I'd better clean you up a bit first," she grumbled and stalked off. None too 
carefully she sponged the mixture of blood and sweat from Vivien's bloated tits.
It took several minutes and much rinsing of the sponge before all that was left 
was the blue-black of her deep bruising. 
She moaned softly throughout.
"I'm going to be in agony tonight," she thought.
The girl she'd fought had put an awful lot of work in on her massive breasts. 
"My fault for being so big I suppose," she chided herself.
Moira was glad her bleeding nose was running down her face now, at least the 
breasts stayed clean. 
She inched Vivien up, far enough for her breasts to resume 	their normal huge 
shape, but not too far least the blood should again begin to splash onto them.
The boxer slumped with her back to the wall, the soiled gloves folded across her 
aching, bruised belly. She could see her thighs now and the splashes of both her 
and her opponent's blood down them. It had been a tough fight and quite the 
bloodiest she'd seen, let alone been in.
"The club will love the takings from the video sales," she mused, knowing how 
the punters loved to see women bleeding in the boxing ring."
Moira sized up Vivien's nipples.
Normally they were big and proud, but the twenty eight rounds in the ring with 
Helen had flattened them somewhat. She dumped the tray yet again and 
disappeared.
Off to the bar in fact for a handful of ice cubes in some paper napkins. 
Vivien sighed again, this time with something approaching pleasure as Moira held 
the ice on her scalding, grazed teats.
Soon she could feel the effects.
Moira took the ice away and nodded appreciatively.
The dark brown nipples stood out about half an inch, the equally dark aureoles 
puckered and clenched with the cold.
She caught the left nipple between thumb and forefinger pulling it gently.
"It's got to be a deep one Viv, do you want something to take the pain away?" 
"No, just do it," she groaned, "I'm not sure I can feel anything any more." 
Moira shrugged, loaded the gun and pulling on the left teat again drove the 
pointed stainless steel pin through the dark aureole. The rod needed 
to be two and a half inches long to protrude far enough for the cees to be 
snapped onto the ends, such was the depth of the piercing. It was more a breast 
piercing than that of a nipple.
Vivien whimpered.
Moira, undeterred, grabbed the other teat and shot the bolt through the breast. 
"There we are," she soothed.
She clipped the two large pieces of jewellery onto the short ends of the 
sleepers.
Vivien looked down at last.
The huge cees circled her throbbing aureoles. They glistened newly in the harsh 
light, drops of blood fell brightly from the end of each steel pin to splash 
onto her already messy thighs.
"Talk about adding insult to injury," she groaned to herself.
"They look hideous," she snapped.
"There's plenty who would be glad to wear them," corrected Moira, "you can take 
them out tomorrow and I'll give you some retainers for the pins, you'll need to 
keep those in for a couple or three weeks."
"I know all about it," whispered Vivien, "my nipps have been done once already." 
"But not so heavy handed as this," she thought, looking again at the awkward 
adornments.
"How am I supposed to wear a bra with these in?" Moira shrugged.
She was hoisted by her own petard in effect because she always insisted that the 
girls got into a good, supportive bra as quickly as possible after a fight, 
especially a scrap as damaging as the one Vivien had just been in.
Grabbing the girl's soggy gloves, she roughly unlaced them and yanked them off. 
"Come on, your nose has stopped, into the shower with you," was her response. 
"It's even going to be difficult to wash myself with these things in," she 
growled.
She sighed and eased her aching, bloody body from the table.
Moira tutting, dabbed up the line of blood drips that had fallen from Vivien's 
jutting breasts as she had padded over to the door.
She carefully reached up for her robe, just draping over her broad, blood 
streaked shoulders. 
She couldn't face the weight of the material, light though it was, on her tender 
nipples.
"That cow, doing this after all my tits have been through tonight." 
She snatched open the door and headed for the medical room. Pausing outside 
Helen's door she wondered if popping in would gloating.
It was not really the done thing.
"Oh well," she shrugged.
Looking down over her own front, she thought that Helen couldn't look any worse. 
She was wrong.
The sight stopped her in her tracks.
The blonde's face was one puffy, purple mass.
She managed a thin half smile when she finally focussed on Vivien. One of her 
front teeth had gone.
Viv shuddered.
"Did I do this?"
Helen's vast tits looked even worse than her own.
Although she'd started out much bigger, at forty inches if Viv could remember 
correctly, they were clearly massively swollen and blood seeped from her badly 
cut left nipple.
She sighed and turned for the further humiliation of the post fight medical. She 
knew that it was for her own benefit really but it was the last thing a fighter 
wanted after a hard scrap.
All she needed now was a shower and a night's rest, but she knew that, with her 
bruising the latter was out of the question.
"Bugger them," she thought, "I'll bath after they've prodded me about."
"On the bed please," said the medic curtly.
She complied, lying down on the crisp white sheet, leaving her stained gown and 
g-string on the cold tiled floor.
The two doctors descended on her lush, battered body.
Grabbing an ankle each they forced her knees up, her thighs wide apart. 
"Subtle," she scowled.
Two large, bare fingers entered her throbbing cunt.
Helen had hit her there several times and the four ounce gloves were so hard. He 
groped about while his colleague palpitated her huge, bloated tits, careful not 
to catch the big gold brooches on anything.
"You'll do," he said finally, "we'll see you again in six weeks time, until then 
no boxing, not even sparring."
"Don't worry," she groaned, "you won't get me back in the ring in a hurry." The 
other quack threw a crumpled brown envelope onto her blood-streaked belly and 
they marched out.