Barocca vs Shannan Leigh
VS 
THREE-DAY WEAKENED
BOUT 1
When you win one of those multi-state lottery jackpots, you can afford to indulge some of your wildest fantasies. That’s just what one guy did, a bachelor who picked up almost $200 million for his $1 investment. For obvious reasons, he wishes to remain anonymous. A life-long femme fight fan, he wasted no time arranging for his two favorite boxing beauties to duke it out in an unusual match. He offered each a substantial fee just for participating, plus a hefty bonus for the winner.
The women would box in a normal ring under the normal rules of boxing with only a few slight modifications. Of course, they’d fight topless; nothing surprising about that given their histories in the sport. There would be three bouts. Each bout would consist of the usual three-minute rounds with a one-minute rest period, but there would be no limit to the number of rounds. They’d slug it out until one woman was knocked out for a ten count. Also, the battle would take place over a three-day weekend, with each bout on a different day. That would give the KOed woman from the previous day a full day to recover. This was not to be a best-two-of-three contest; all three bouts would be fought even if one of the boxers won the first two.
The multi-millionaire invited Barocca and Shannan Leigh to fly to his Hawaiian estate and they accepted without hesitation. The contenders arrived on separate chartered flights late Wednesday preceding the designated weekend. That gave them two days to adjust for jet lag and to avail themselves of the amenities his estate provided. The only stipulations were that the women remain separated until the first round and that from then on they refrain from fighting outside the ring. That seemed easy and fair enough; they weren’t getting paid to fight elsewhere.
The mansion was large enough so avoiding each other during the pre-fight hours was easy enough. Their host, a good-looking guy in his late 30s, visited each several times to explain the rules and answer any questions his guest stars may have had. He dined privately with each. And told them his staff was at their disposal for anything they wanted.
On Saturday morning, a maid brought each contender her equipment for the fight: foxy boxing trunks, gloves, sweat socks, ankle-high flat-soled shoes, and towels. The maid said they would receive a new set each morning, in different colors.
The first bout was scheduled for high noon Saturday. A regulation boxing ring had been erected in the spacious gym in one wing of the mansion. A small group of the host’s friends and femme fight aficionados had gathered to witness the event. At the stroke of noon, the multi-millionaire stepped into the ring and addressed the spectators.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to my home. This weekend you will be treated to the greatest spectacle in femme fighting history.” He continued for another five minutes or so, explaining the rules and scheduling before introducing the boxing babes. “Our combatants are both champions of the video companies for which they have worked, amassing impressive records. In alphabetical order, I present first from Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, standing 5’10” and weighing 135, the Brazilian Bombshell, the great BAROCCA!”
Barocca emerged from the dressing room area to thunderous cheers. She was amazed that so few people could raise such a deafening racket. Lifting her ungloved hands high over her head, she strode with confidence to the ring in her black satin foxies with wide elastic red belt and piping. Her black socks were rolled over the tops of her red shoes and were surprisingly comfortable, although she usually preferred to fight barefoot. Their host sure knew something about women’s feet. The Brazilian beauty had carefully chosen lipstick and nail polish that matched the red on her outfit. She dazzled the crowd.
“And now I present her opponent, from Manhattan, New York, standing 5’7” and weighing 128, the ever-popular SHANNAN ‘THE KNOCKOUT’ LEIGH!”
Again the crowd erupted in cheers that rattled the rafters. Showmanship prompted Shannan to wait a few seconds before entering, adding to the already palpable tension that gripped everyone in the gym. Her outfit was identical in style to her opponents, but was gold satin with blue belt and trim. Gold socks rolled over her red shoes. Shannan wore no makeup. She beamed and waved to the spectators as she mounted the steps and climbed through the ropes.
Shannan went directly to Barocca’s corner and the women shook hands, like true sportswomen and worthy competitors. The roar from the crowd drowned out their remarks.
“Barocca, you’re about to find out why they call me ‘the Knockout’,” Shannan purred like a Cheshire cat.
“Oh, I thought they were calling you ‘the Knocked-Out’, Shannan,” Barocca hissed through clenched teeth.
In each corner, assistants helped the ladies on with their red boxing gloves and laced them up snugly. For a few anxious minutes the boxers tested their gloves, bobbed and weaved, threw a few air punches, and limbered up. Most of this warm-up routine consisted of bouncing on the balls of their feet, which naturally set their magnificent mammaries and booties jiggling, much to the fans’ delight. Both women were champions, so every minute of this three-bout battle was bound to be exciting.
There was no need for a pre-fight briefing; the host had taken care of all that over the previous two days and both women understood completely what was expected of them. Both were experienced and thoroughly professional. They were making $5,000 a day for simply being there—that’s $10,000 each already, before even laying a glove on one another. The winner of each bout would get a $25,000 bonus. The one who won at least two bouts would take home an additional $100,000 winner’s purse. From their corners, Barocca and Shannan waved once more to their fans and waited nervously for the bell.
ROUND 1:
At a nod from the host, the bell is rung and the boxing babes approach each other in a wide circle. Each is crouched, her right protecting her ample bosom, her left shielding her gorgeous face, her eyes fixed unblinking on her opponent as they spiral closer. A few tentative jabs from each test the defensive reflexes or the other. Barocca lowers her brows, attempting to intimidate Shannan.
The auburn-haired Amazon glares back and says between jabs, “You’re getting soft, Barocca. Lately you’ve been wasting your time fighting amateurs, hip-hop groupies, porn stars. And they came close to beating you, didn’t they? When was the last time you took on a real boxer or wrestler?”
The brunette shot back, “You don’t approve of my sparring partners, Shannan? They give me a good enough workout. Better than those worn-out whorehouse rejects you fight.” She sent a glancing blow off Shannan’s cheek; it had little effect.
“Is that the best you can do? Shit, you are over the hill, babe. And today everyone here will know it.” She tapped Barocca on the chin.
“So cocky so early in the match. Tsk! Tsk! Beware of overconfidence, honey.” Barocca hooked one to Shannan’s belly, just below her ribcage.
They kept quiet for the remainder of the round. Toward the end they began trading more serious blows, but nothing that gave either woman any clear superiority. Leigh acknowledged that Barocca still had a powerful punch from either fist. Barocca noted that Shannan was an expert at feinting and at drawing her opponent’s gloves away from her real intended target.
The bell sounded and both boxers returned to their corners. Their attendants quickly installed stools and provided cool water to rinse their mouths and thick towels to blot up their perspiration. Both had a patina of moisture on their upper bodies and the attendants, Hawaiian wahinis, enjoyed wiping down the brawlers’ bountiful breasts. There was no need for anyone to keep score since the bout would only be won by a knockout, but if someone were to keep score, Round 1 would have been even. So instead of keeping score, the fans amused themselves between rounds by placing bets on who would win the bout, in what round, who would win the series, how many bouts she’d win, and so forth. Some even bet on what colors the girls would wear in the future bouts.
ROUND 2:
At the bell, the gals circled in quickly, eager to pick up where they’d left off. No reconnaissance this time; every punch was tactical and aimed at a specific target. The honeymoon round was over and the girls got down to business. True to form, Shannan tricked Barocca into dropping her guard twice, landing solid blows that brought the Brazilian to a temporary standstill. Neither was a knockout punch, but they took their toll nevertheless.
The Bombshell managed to hit her targets a few time, too. She rocked the redhead with a sneaky left hook to her head. That one staggered Shannan of few steps to her left, but she came right back. Seconds later she nailed Leigh with a one-two combination to her blue beltline, doubling the New Yorker over with audible grunts. Barocca’s dance experience kept her on her toes and able to avoid several shots to her head.
The crowd got to its feet when Barocca backed Leigh against the ropes for some close-in body blows, but the round ended before she could press that advantage. They retired to their corners, a little sweatier and a little sorer than last time.
ROUND 3:
No circling now; the pumped-up pugilists were straight to center ring and resumed the fight. After a few blocked blows on both sides, Shannan faked an attack on Barocca’s belly and she instinctively lowered her gloves. Leigh accepted the open invitation and drove a stunning straight right directly into the brunette’s face. While it was straight, it was angled slightly upward, so its momentum lifted Barocca slightly and started her cartwheeling across the ring before collapsing in the far corner.
The fans jumped up screaming at this first knockdown of the bout. The black beauty was shaken but obviously conscious, so no count began. The special rules stipulated that a boxer had to be knocked out—completely unconscious—for a minimum of a full ten-count before the battle would be over. Barocca’s head was spinning and she couldn’t focus her eyes, but she was propped up on her elbow and grasping the bottom rope.
Shannan danced with glee in the neutral corner, clearly proud of herself for shooting down the high-and-mighty Barocca mere seconds into the third round. She turned to the crowd, her arms raised in premature victory, and drank in their adulation. Occasionally Shannan glanced back at her foe to assess her progress. The brunette was still woozy as she slowly pulled herself up to one knee and then to both feet, steadying herself with both hands on the ropes. She blinked a few times and shook her head to clear it. Leigh redirected her attention to Barocca and impatiently awaited the host’s signal to resume. Victory was within her grasp—not to mention the $10,000 winner’s bonus.
As she restabilized, Barocca realized that it was to her advantage to take as much time as possible to return to combat. The clock was still ticking down the three-minute round and there was no benefit to rushing back into Shannan’s meat grinder. Still, she didn’t wasn’t to appear to be giving up. She nodded to the millionaire, who in turn signaled the fight to resume.
They spent the rest of the round with Barocca fending off certain defeat and Shannan pursuing her, hungry for a quick win. The Bombshell did manage to detonate a good one to Leigh’s right breast, flattening it for a gratifying grunt from Shannan. The brunette took a few half-decent shots to various parts of her body, but nothing serious. Her head was still ringing when she thought she heard the bell ring. To be cautious, she kept her guard up until she saw Shannan break off and return to her corner.
ROUND 4:
This time when Shannan feinted, Barocca didn’t fall for it. She blocked Leigh’s left-right-left combination and followed up with her own left to the gut and right to the chin. Shannan bounced off the ropes and bought some time by clinching her adversary. The women could feel how heavily their opponent was breathing, locked breast to breast as they were. With no referee to break them apart, they were on their honor to make a clean break, which they did. Professionals.
Shannan shot an arching right into Barocca’s left boob that mashed it against her right boob. She countered with a jab to Leigh’s abdomen that doubled over her redheaded rival. Expecting an uppercut, The Knockout rolled to one side and the Bombshell’s hurtling right rocketed futilely up without meeting any resistance. That threw her off balance and Shannan managed to spin her with a roundhouse right when the brunette regained her footing.
Barocca corkscrewed into a corner on collapsing legs, but she grabbed the ropes and kept from falling. Her back was toward Shannan, who spun her around for an intense session of body blows from which there was no escape. The Brazilian took a hell of a beating, full aware of the crowd screaming for Shannan to finish her off. She’d be damned if she’d let this cocky white girl humiliate her like that. Defending herself the best she could, Barocca used her elbows and knees to deflect the onslaught of gloved fists that rained from every direction.
Frustrated that her victim would not go down, Shannan took a small step back to try another strategy. That was all the chance Barocca needed. Throbbing from every inch of her battered body, she lashed out with a straight left to Leigh’s nose that knocked her head back and sprays her with sweat from her opponent’s flipping hair. Some of that saline sweat got into Barocca’s open eyes. It stung like fire and she couldn’t keep them open.
Seeing that Barocca was momentarily blind, Shannan clobbered her with a left to her cheek that hung the busty black beauty out to dry, her lifeless arms flung over the top rope. The New Yorker was closing in for the kill when the bell interrupted.
“Damn!” she spat, robbed of certain victory. Leigh was delighted to notice that she could walk back to her corner, while Barocca’s limp form dripped off the ropes and onto the canvas. Barocca’s attendant dragged her back to her stool and worked to revive the flaccid fighter. The Brazilian was just barely conscious, as her attendant reported to the host. The bout would continue…but for how long?
ROUND 5:
The spectators rose and cheered at the sight of Barocca bravely rising and heading toward Shannan. The black beauty made it a point of courageous defiance to be the first to stand when the bell rang. Leigh was mildly surprised. She knew her opponent was not totally finished yet, but her apparent eagerness to keep fighting shook Shannon’s nerve. Lesser women would have thrown in the towel or just played dead. But Barocca was not other women.
Leigh could tell from the half-hearted punches that Barocca was all used up. Her body had simply absorbed too much punishment, too many devastating punches. But The Knockout was not inclined to be merciful. This was boxing, and only the first bout of three. The only objective was to win, in this case, to knock your opponent out cold. If their positions were reversed, Barocca would not hesitate to deliver the coup de grâce.
Barocca seemed half asleep, her arms flailing ineffectively. Shannan delivered a short peppering to her breasts and belly for about half a minute, until Barocca’s arms dropped to her sides. The crowd hushed. The Brazilian Bombshell just stood there, like she was waiting for an elevator after a hard day of exhausting physical labor. And this elevator would take her down.
Shannan planted a medium-force right on Barocca’s chin; the brunette twisted left…and then twisted back. Shannan uppercut her precious hooters; her knees buckled slightly but she straightened back up. A left jab missed Barocca’s wobbling head and caught her shoulder; she remained standing. The spectators grumbled uncomfortably. Shannan sank a glove into her belly; she bent forward with a gasp, then slowly straightened, her mouth hanging open, her eyes half closed. Shannan was astonished.
The girl in the gold foxies lobbed an overhead right down on Barocca’s face, as if to nudge her in the right direction. The black-clad boxer dropped to her knees…but refused to fall over. The crowd’s grumbling grew louder. Barocca made no attempt to rise, to lift a glove, nothing. She just knelt there, panting deeply. But The Knockout had still not knocked her out. She was not yet defeated.
A moderate left toppled Barocca forward onto her hands and forearms, swayback, partly supported by her flattening milk juggs. Her forehead hung listlessly an inch from the canvas, her matted ebony hair dripping sweat in a growing puddle. It was the only detectable movement from the crumpled combatant. Her heavy breathing could be heard in every corner of the silenced room.
Shannan just wanted to get this over. There would be little glory in torturing Barocca indefinitely. With resignation, Leigh hoisted her prey to her feet, steadied her with her left glove on her shoulder, and walloped Barocca with a lethal roundhouse right to the head. This time Barocca went down, the crash reverberating loudly. She lay on her back, spread-eagle. And more importantly, unconscious.
Shannan stood with her feet wide apart, arms hanging, gazing down at the beaten beauty. No one bothered to count. Nearly a full minute passed before Leigh turned and solemnly raised her gloves overhead in triumph. The crowd applauded respectfully, but not wildly. The auburn-haired Amazon had won; no doubt about it. She had literally beaten Barocca to her knees…and beyond. But the Brazilian’s defiant though futile last stand had rendered Shannan’s victory hollow somehow.
Shucking off her gloves, Shannan wiped her drenched face with a fluffy blue towel and headed back to the dressing room, acknowledging the congratulatory calls from the spectators. Shannan’s corner attendant joined Barocca’s in picking up the demolished diva and lugging her out of the gym. The defused Bombshell was just 135 pounds of dead weight, sagging like a hammock from the attendants’ grasp.
The crowd was abuzz with speculation about second bout on Sunday. Would Barocca have the courage or even the stamina to show up? Would a woman who had rushed into that fateful fifth round today not show up tomorrow? Could Shannan go all the way? Could she win all three bouts? Was Barocca indeed past her prime and ready to be put out to pasture? Are you willing to back up your opinion with a substantial wager?
It was just going on 12:30 PM. Barocca would have 23-1/2 hours to recuperate from the relentless hammering Shannan Leigh had dealt her only minutes ago. She would need every second.
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