Barocca vs Summer Walker
vs
STONE AGE RAGE-Part 2
NOTE - This story immediately follows - Barocca vs Chessika Cartwright 
“OK, Barzilian Bombshell,” Summer Walker conceded. “Yesterday you took out Chessika pretty good for a woman your age. Your experience-and you’ve had lots of that-won out. But she gave you a hard time. Left you puffing and panting and looking like shit. Now it’s Summer time. Let’s see if you got the stamina to keep up with me.”
Barocca hadn’t felt so achy since Minka beat the hell out of her and left her sprawled out in that alley a few months back. Truly the low point in her career. But losing to the experienced mega-titted Korean still allowed her to keep some semblance of her pride. Losing to a green kid like Summer would be an ego-shattering humiliation from which she could never recover. “I’ll give you credit for not double-teaming me, Summer. How about giving me a few minutes to suit up, eh? Call it professional courtesy.”
“Yeah, right. So the old lady needs more time as she ages. You don’t fool me, Barocca. The condition you’re in right now, I could blow you away with a fart.”
“That would probably put the curl back in my hair,” the Brazilian quipped without missing a beat. “So what do you say, Summer? Are you such a puss that you can only beat up a woman who’s already beaten up? Do you need Chessika to soften me up for you? Does your momma still cut up your meat for you at dinner? Are you afraid to face me woman-to-woman?”
Put that way, Summer couldn’t refuse Barocca’s request. But she tried to spin it in her favor. “OK, granny. Don’t forget your oxygen tank and your Fosamax. Take all the time you need. While you’re cooling down from your hot flashes, I’ll be warming up.” Summer sashayed off to a far corner and began stretching, doing leg splits, jogging in place, and general limbering-up exercises.
The youngster put an unbearable strain on her electric blue bandeau thong bikini. Her top was aided by a slim strand that looped around her neck and fastened at her cleavage. When she squatted, her narrow thong was swallowed up and its waistband stretched to its absolute limit. Summer was barefoot and looked like she was ready for a day at the beach. But this was going to be no picnic.
Barocca plopped down in front of a make-up mirror and reassessed the wreckage of her face. After her nose had finally stopped bleeding yesterday, she decided it wasn’t broken. Her lips were still swollen and tender. The cut on her lower lip was reasonably disguised with dark red lipstick, but she looked like she’d ODed on collagen. The area around her eyes was still slightly puffy and made her appear to be squinting slightly. “Maybe Summer will think I look mean,” she hoped. “Jeez, I look like I’m wearing war paint. Well, I guess I am”
To compensate for her ravaged visage, Barocca had teased her hair so it looked like a lion’s mane. That took some of the bloat away from her face, still suffering from Chessika Cartwright’s relentless pounding the day before. She took her time completing the feral cat image by donning a thong bikini featuring an animal print. Its off-white background sported small dark brown spots, mimicking a young leopard or cheetah. The Brazilian completed her ensemble with a pair of buckskin boots, laced almost to the knee with leather thongs.
Summer Walker had tired of warm-up exercises by the time Barocca emerged from the dressing room and was fidgeting in her corner. “Good. Got her full of nervous tension and anxiety,” the Bombshell smiled. Summer perked up when she saw Barocca’s battle gear, a reaction the veteran vixen took as startling. When climbing through the ropes, Barocca punctuated her entrance by slamming her boots loudly onto the mat, as though the thick soles were loaded with lead.
“Where’s your little girlfriend to ring the bell for us?” Barocca asked cattily.
“Sharona is tending to Chessika,“ Summer spat. “She isn’t feeling too well today after what you did to her. I’m here to even the score.”
“I hope Sharona is a good nurse,” Barocca purred, “because she’ll have another patient later today.”
“I don’t think she’ll want to nursemaid you, bitch,” Summer countered. “Guess we’ll just have to start whenever we want, bell or no bell.”
Accepting that open invitation, Barocca shot across the ring and launched a savage dropkick smack into Summer’s huge hooters. The nubile newbie exhaled explosively as she rocketed back against the ropes. She crashed onto her bountiful bosom right next to her assailant, who was already picking herself up to deliver her next move. Barocca leg-dropped onto Summer’s upper back, smashing her twice-tortured titties a third time.
Her victim emitted a low groan when Barocca rolled her over onto her back. Summer would have raised both arms to protect her throbbing boobs but her left arm was trapped underneath her. Summer’s head lolled and her legs twitched as the grinning Brazilian rose again to deliver what could have been the coup de grâce. Barocca aimed her elbow smash at Summer’s throat, to be followed by a leg-hook pin to end the short one-sided skirmish.
It wasn’t cunning but only a strong sense of self-preservation that spurred the blue-clad Walker to push herself out of the way at the last moment. Barocca’s elbow met the hard mat with an audible crack. Because the upper arm bone is technically named the humerus, it’s often called the “funny bone”, especially when struck hard enough to send a tingly spasm through its length. The Brazilian Bombshell didn’t find it the least bit humorous when the jolt disabled her entire right arm.
She scrambled to her feet and tried to shake off the numbing sensation, giving Summer plenty of time to recover from the bust battering she’d absorbed. Seeing that her tormentor’s right arm was totally useless, Walker grabbed a double handful of Barocca’s black mane and hurled her against the ropes. On the rebound, the one-armed warrior was met with a perfectly executed clothesline that swept her clean off her feet and crashing onto the mat.
Ah, the eagerness of youth. Summer fell on top of Barocca, hooked her leg, and began counting. At “2” the gasping catwoman bumped Summer off. Both women got to their feet and circled each other with heightened wariness. Summer readjusted her blue bandeau, settling her opulent orbs into a more comfortable position. Barocca continued shaking out her dangling right arm, flexing her fingers to test their ability.
“You don’t waste any time, do you, Barocca?”
“I didn’t want to keep you up past your nap time, Summer.”
Walker eyed her foe with new respect. “This ‘old lady’ still knows what she’s doing,” she thought. “She won’t be the pushover I figured she’d be.”
As normal sensation crept a bit further down her arm, Barocca also reassessed her opponent. “Summer knows more than she lets on. But it seems to be just flashy TV wrestling shit, all those phony acrobatics. Let’s see how much real wrestling she knows.”
They slowly spiraled in closer until they could lock up. Barocca broke the lock after a few seconds and spun her arms into a headlock. She had her right snug around Summer’s neck, but her strength had not fully returned yet. Until it did, the Latina waggled Walker’s head, jiggling her juggs until one flopped out of the bright blue bandeau. “That’ll keep her occupied until my strength returns,” Barocca thought. A few more hearty shakes bounced the other boob free and Summer quickly diverted her attention to restoring her top to its rightful place.
As she prepared to repeat the bouncing booby trick, Barocca felt Summer’s hand grab the back of her thong and yank up abruptly. The catsuit cut deeply into her femininity so fiercely that she released her headlock and pulled the offending garment from her pussy. “Damn! That’s like a hot knife,” she muttered.
Summer grabbed the jungle goddess’s hair once again and rolled onto her back, monkeyflipping the veteran femme fighter all the way across to the opposite corner. Barocca’s jungle boots banged onto the mat, just missing the bottom ropes. “More TV moves,” she thought-but they were sure effective. That crash landing had driven the wind from Barocca, who now gasped and choked trying to gulp in enough air to maintain consciousness.
Summer was not in a generous mood. She grabbed one of Barocca’s boots and corkscrewed her long leg into a stepover toehold. “TV again,” the Brazilian winced as Walker bore down on the torqued, tortured limb. The numbness that had finally left her arm was now growing in her leg. “Did I sell this kid short?” Barocca asked herself. “I never figured her for a strategist, but she seems to be taking me out one limb at a time…like she’s pruning a tree. If Summer keeps this up, I’ll be lying helpless on the mat, like a quadriplegic.”
Barocca used her free leg to smash Summer in the belly. When she doubled over, Barocca smashed her boot into Summer’s face. That broke the hold and laid the youngster out on the mat. The stripper stumbled to her feet only to find that her newly-emancipated leg would not fully support her…at least temporarily. She grasped at Summer and snagged her bandeau’s strap, snapping it clean off. Following that obvious lead, Barocca helped her groggy opponent to her feet by tugging so hard on the blue bandeau that it popped completely off.
With her humongous udders now swinging like pendulums, Summer was enraged. Losing her temper, she swung a right hook that caught Barocca solidly on her left cheek. Walker followed that with a left hook before Barocca could raise her fists in defense. That left reopened Barocca’s nosebleed and once again the red fluid gushed down her lips and chin. The youngster grinned like a naughty child.
Irate, the bloody Bombshell hammered Summer’s sunshiny face. When she paused, she saw that she’d split Summer’s lip and thus had erased that idiotic grin. During that pause, Summer cocked her right and buried her fist deep into Barocca’s belly. A left uppercut straightened the stripper to her full height and snapped her head back. Walker yanked the Latina’s top straps and relieved her of the supportive garment. The brown-spotted cat print was replaced by two big brown-nosed puppies bounding out of their confines.
Summer always liked pound puppies, and pound them she did. She hammered those hapless hooters with vicious vigor. The pain helped clear the fog from Barocca’s brain and she too began blasting Walker’s bazookas with a barrage that staggered Summer back. Both wildcats were charged with adrenaline, which increased their heart rates, which accelerated their blood flow, which poured from Barocca’s nose and Summer’s lip like wine at an ancient Roman bacchanal.
Barocca spun Summer around in a full circle with a roundhouse right that sprayed blood in a wide arc. Walker backhanded the Brazilian bitch when she stopped spinning, knocking the animal-skinned siren into the corner. Barocca flinched up her leg to block Summer’s kick to her belly but she couldn’t defend against a downward fist that landed hard on her eye.
This brawling catfight was getting them nowhere, so Barocca broke the pace and clamped a forward chancery on Walker. The poor girl had no idea how to escape this hold, confirming the veteran’s suspicion that she’d learned all her wrestling from those TV farce exhibitions. “Glorified, steroid-hyped stuntmen engaging in well-rehearsed choreography,” she called it. “Sure, it requires fitness and stamina, but it’s all scripted bullshit. What we’re doing is real-and the competition is fierce.”
Barocca delivered a few fast kneelifts to Summer’s stomach, rewarded each time with a satisfying grunt. When the new kid’s legs gave out and she slumped to the mat, she almost dragged the dancer down with her. Barocca kept the hold on tight, on both knees while Walker gasped for breath. Summer summoned her strength and got on all fours, her mottled mounds barely off the mat. Both wrestlers gingerly regained their footing. Then Barocca swiftly spun 180 degrees until they were facing away from each other, backs arched backward, Summer’s head still trapped by the ring-wise warrior’s chancery.
Barocca suddenly dropped to the mat, taking the agonized young woman with her. Summer shrieked when she landed, her spine ablaze with fiery misery. She was learning a painful lesson in wrestling from one of the most experienced women in the business-and she was paying dearly for it. Bored, Barocca released her victim and prepared for her next attack.
The tall tigress was certain Summer was now regretting that she’d ever even heard of Barocca, much less that she’d been rash enough to step inside the ring against her. These big-titted, big-bootied, baby-faced bimbos were a dime a dozen these days, but fighters like Barocca were rare and worth many times their weight in gold. While Summer used the ropes to climb back up, Barocca took a stroll around the ring to refresh herself, hitching up her animal print thong and catching her breath.
When she was good and ready, Barocca took two hanks of Walker’s long hair and whipped her against the ropes. Summer expected to be clotheslined in retaliation for her earlier assault on the Brazilian. Instead the wily Latina spun her outstretched leg into Walker’s lower abdomen and the youngster flipped over forward, landing on her aching back. Her sweaty, heaving bosom was too tempting to pass up, and Barocca raised her thick-soled boot for a stomp.
The blue-thonged battler caught the descending foot and twisted Barocca off her feet and onto her back. She mounted the stripper and beat her bulbous boobies like bongo drums, throwing in a few face slaps as additional insults. This infuriated Barocca, who bucked Walker off. Summer grabbed the Brazilian as she rose and treated to an expertly executed hiptoss. The feisty feline found herself sitting on the mat her arm stretched up between Summer’s legs in a wrenching armbar. Walker applied torque and Barocca screamed out for relief.
With her free hand, Barocca yanked back on Summer’s hair and down she went. Catwoman pounced and the two titans rolled across the ring in a scratching, clawing embrace. Snarling, hissing, and locked breast to breast, they clamored to their feet. Once again the fists began to fly but this time no parts of their bodies escaped the pummeling. Blows rained from any and all directions. Knockdowns meant nothing as both women took their turns hitting the canvas. No new cuts were opened, but the old ones kept gushing. Both babes’ fists were red from their own and the other’s blood.
Summer stemmed this onslaught with a knee to the catwoman’s pussy. Barocca collapsed to the mat, cradling her crotch in agony. Summer mused, “For a gal who got the shit kicked out of her only yesterday, Barocca sure can fight. I thought sure she’d be easy pickings, but she almost had me a couple of times there. She’ll never know how close she came to beating me.” Then she glanced at the writhing heap crumpled at her feet, blood coating her lower face and dripping off her battered, swollen breasts. Summer sneered contemptuously as she decided exactly how to put Barocca out for the count.
Summer bent over and picked up the beaten Brazilian. Barocca swayed on her feet, her head lolling lifelessly, her hands still protecting her pussy. Summer reared back for the final light-out punch that would spin her victim to the mat with a bloody splatter. “Barocca will probably retire after that,” she mused. “Her fighting days will be over.”
Summer’s dream ended the instant Barocca’s boot connected with her chin, sending a spout of blood skyward. The high-kicking exotic dancer had been playing possum until Walker took too much time setting her up for the grand finale. Summer flopped onto the top rope and back into Barocca’s waiting arms. The exhausted Bombshell scooped her off her feet and bodyslammed Summer with a loud bang.
Stunned, Summer refused to submit and gamely struggled to rise. She was halfway up when Barocca’s boot caught her in the midsection and propelled the top-heavy tyro through the ropes and onto the floor below. Walker faded out as she heard Barocca’s heaving voice tolling, “1…2…”
Her head throbbing, Summer faded back and heard “…52…53…54…” before she could open her eyes and refocus them. There was the wreckage that had once been the gorgeous Barocca, standing high above Summer, leaning over the top rope, dripping blood onto…onto what? Onto Summer’s limp body. She groaned and closed her eyes again, not wanting to see any more.
Barocca stumbled off to her dressing room, almost falling off the steps leading from the ring. Despite her hard-fought victory, she dreaded the thought of looking into the dressing room mirror. When she did look, she was horrified. Her beautiful face was a bloody pulp, bruised and swollen, one eye sore and closed. Surely her nose must be broken this time. Her hair, so carefully coiffed just minutes before, was sweaty and matted with blood-her own and Summer’s-and hanging in strings. Her entire body was bruised, both boobs once more swollen by a cup size or two.
After half an hour, Barocca managed to drag herself into the shower to begin the task of rebuilding herself. A few days of total rest would repair most of her body damage. Her face would take longer. She hadn’t looked this bedraggled since Minka beat her up in that alley…but most of that was alley debris. This was real physical damage.
The only consolation is that she had won. Barocca was still Number One. She’d whipped two snot-nosed kids who thought she was washed up. Never mind that that’s exactly the way she felt now. “I can beat anybody,” she said aloud to herself, reassessing the damage in her bedroom mirror days later. “I am Barocca!”
BACK TO THE CELEBRITIES
TO BAROCCA
TO SUMMER WALKER
London River vs Penny Barber
FOLLOW Alice Frost & Lea Lexis TO ULTIMATE SURRENDER!