Martina Hingis vs. Anna Kournikova by Rampant

The makeup girls did a good job Martina thought to herself, and she was right. On the big screen in front of her Anna Kournikova’s face - massively enlarged - looked flawless as ever. Her blonde hair was tied back in her trademark long trailing pigtail. The arrogant smoldering half smile was there too. Only in Anna’s eyes could Martina discerned fear. Her restless, darting, eyes betrayed her.

When the glamorous blonde had signed for three fights in one week - this match with former doubles partner Martina between fights against two of the four dominant blondes in the Federation, Sarah Michelle Gellar and Britney Spears - most people thought it was typical Anna arrogance and hoped that Sarah would kick her ass. Well she had eventually but... what a fight!

Martina smiled as she remembered it; pounding one another, every minute harder and harder, better and better until finally - after half an hour - both girls had to be carried out of the ring barely able to stand. From then on Martina knew she couldn’t lose. If Anna didn’t show for the fight then the bitch was scared, if she did then she’d get the worst ass-kicking of the fledgling century. Anna had chosen option two - a little to Martina’s surprise - and here she was looking fresh as a daisy, confident even, the way she walked down the ramp with her wide hips swaying. But Martina knew, and Anna knew, that beneath all the polish she couldn’t have recovered enough. Not even close. So Martina grinned like a cat with a cornered mouse. If it struggled a bit, well then that was all part of the fun.

The fans chanted Anna’s name as they faced one another in the center of the ring. They were unlike to look at. Anna was tall, all sunny blonde hair and tanned body that made women guilty for every piece of chocolate they ever ate. Beside her, Martina looked what she was, average. Her dark, wispy hair was tied loose in a ponytail which had the unfortunate effect of emphasizing a prominent forehead now shiny with sweat. Her skin remained determinedly white despite hours on tennis courts around the world.

Still they were alike in other ways; two girls who used to be friends. Arrogant and self obsessed, loners who formed alliances rather than friendships and fell out with anyone who got close to them. Too alike to be friends, they instead became enemies.

“You should’ve stayed in hospital or wherever it was Sarah put you,” said Martina grinning.

“If it was anyone but you I would’ve stayed,” replied Anna honestly, her full chest heaving as she struggled with the urge to panic, to run away. “But then I thought, what the hell, its only Martina. Even when I look like shit... well, you hear whose name they shout.”

Suddenly, she sprang forward, hoping to catch Martina off her guard but the Swiss Miss was ready and she side-stepped, slapping Anna on her round bottom as she stumbled past.

“Oops, almost got me there,” giggled Martina as Anna spun round, her mouth tight in an ugly snarl of anger.

“Fuck you,” Anna snarled as she charged again.

This time Martina stood firm and buried her fist in Anna’s firm belly, almost feeling the impressions left by Sarah’s balled up fists days before. Anna moaned in anguish as she slowly sank to one knee, her face flushed and her breath coming in short, ragged bursts. Martina again belted her churning gut and then stepped back to let the proud Russian slump forward and topple onto her red face and heaving chest.

Martina smiled as she ‘dusted off her hands’ while the capacity crowd gasped. Anna just whimpered as she groveled on the mat at Martina’s feet, her carefully crafted façade of recovery already destroyed.

Unresisting, Anna was hauled up and flung headlong into the turnbuckle. She hung draped in the corner - a miserable sea creature thrown up and stranded on the beach - as she awaited her beating. Like a rich kid at Christmas, Martina didn’t know where to go first. Turning Anna round to face her, Martina slapped the haughty blonde’s face and Anna’s head snapped sideways; her pigtail flying wildly, almost catching Martina in the eye. But that was as near as the blonde came to an aggressive response.

“Forehand’s looking good,” said Martina softly. “Now lets try a backhand.”

She slapped Anna’s face back hard the other way and a sound like a gunshot cracked in Martina’s ears, yet it didn’t rouse her hapless victim from her stupor. Martina tossed her head petulantly. Why wasn’t she enjoying herself?

Quickly, she rocked a savage short jab to Anna’s jaw. Nothing. Why... won’t... she... fight... back... Martina following each word with a frustrated punch deep into the pit of Anna’s flat belly. Anna groaned, tasting bile in the back of her mouth, but still her body remained slumped in the corner, her mouth pursed in an ‘o’ as she sucked in air.

“Fuck her then,” thought Martina with a shrug. “If she wants to stand there and take it, I can give it to her all night long.” She grabbed Anna’s arm and hurled the Russian chest first to the opposite turnbuckle, falling to her knees with the effort of her follow-thru. Getting up quickly, Martina grabbed Anna’s pigtail and wrapped it around her fist. Using the handful of hair, Martina banged Anna’s head on the turnbuckle. Once, twice, three times...

But the crowd didn’t take up their traditional chant and count along with her. Martina stopped and looked around her in disgust. They didn’t even seem interested. Well fuck them too.

Having to make her own fun, the pissed off Swiss Miss grabbed Anna’s sweaty, yellow sports bra and pulled. Finally, the comatose blonde came alive, clutching feebly at Martina’s wrists, fighting to keep her top in place. Belatedly, the fans erupted, screaming encouragement to Martina as she pulled and tugged at the Russian’s bra, stretching the fabric away from its snug fit around Anna’s soft, round breasts.

Then, with a plaintive TWANG the clasp snapped and Martina stumbled back holding her prize. Lunging back to Anna, Martina’s grasping fingers dug into and twisted Anna’s moneymakers; the blonde’s whimpering being drowned out by the baying of the crowd.

Suddenly, Anna’s hands shot up, grabbing Martina’s head and pulled her to her until they were nose to nose. Martina could see the shiny threat of tears in her rival’s eyes as she continued to heartlessly maul Anna’s boobs. Anna set her teeth in a tortured grin as the pain threatened to take over.

“You hear them screaming,” Anna said. “And you think it is for you? Pah!”

Her exclamation sent a little glob of spittle onto Martina’s forehead but Martina didn’t notice, seemingly transfixed by Anna’s words.

Almost smiling now, an exultant irrepressible grin on her face even while Martina unloaded on her with a vicious jug-jiggling uppercut, Anna gasped, “Unnghh... I told you. I’m the one they are here to see. My body...”

“Ohhh,” another brute of a punch, but still Anna held Martina’s face, staring; her eyes blazing with hatred.

Anna laughed, “My body earns me more than all your titles. All your trophies. You’d trade them all to hear the people cheer you like they do for me; for them to LOVE you.”

Silence. Breathing heavily Anna stared at the brunette. Then...

“Aaaah. Fuccckk!”

Anna screamed and slumped to the mat as Martina smashed her knee up between the blonde’s parted legs.

Martina stood over the gasping Anna and screamed abuse at the prostrate girl, her face flushed, “You think that is good? To earn your money like a whore?” Martina kicked Anna in her peachy behind. “What talent is that? Wearing tight clothes and showing off your skanky ass. I will show you how easy it is; how easy to make the animals forget you!”

Wishing there were music playing to make her act a little bit more natural seeming, Martina stood in the center of the ring and began to bump n’ grind, shaking her fine ass Cameron Diaz style. The inebriated crowd (this was the sixth fight of the evening after all) were puzzled. Most of them could hear little of what was being said between the two warring tennis stars but they were prepared to be philosophical - especially with Martina wriggling seductively out of her innocent white cotton panties.

“So far so good,” thought Martina, her nervous smile widening as the cheers increased. Someone even started a hand clap that others picked up. She bent over to pick up her discarded knickers - working it like a Vegas veteran - and threw the sweaty panties into the throng.

“Anna who?” the clamoring fans seemed to be saying, and their cheers went to her head like strong wine. Her eyes closed, Martina teased off her bra one strap at a time, then it too was fed to the hungry mass of her fans. Her performance complete, the Swiss Miss stood alone in the middle of the ring, drowning in glorious adulation, her own name ringing in her.....


Taking advantage of Martina’s impromptu striptease, Anna had rolled out of the ring. Now she crouched against the apron and prayed the fans wouldn’t give her location away. Events had taken a bewildering turn she reflected as she massaged her breasts, flushed red as the devil’s own work by Martina’s mauling hands. Fate had given her hope; more than she’d started with. Still Anna was uncomfortably aware that even her superbly conditioned body couldn’t take much more punishment. She would only have one chance!

Above Anna in the ring, Martina spun around, looking like someone freshly awakened from a coma. Suddenly conscious of her own nakedness, Martina hugged her modest breasts, all her old insecurities flooding back as the crowd fell silent; seeming as confused as she about Anna’s whereabouts. Anna’s discarded bra still lay in the corner. For wont of anything else to do, Martina walked over to pick it up. Anna held her breath as the brunette came closer, her heart thudding in her chest.

Martina stopped, her attention caught by the fans in the front seats who were staring at something on the floor in front of them.

Anna waved frantically at the stupid men, willing them to look away, but it was no good. She tensed her body and got ready to pounce. Martina leaned through the ropes and looked down...

A thirsty antelope crept warily to the edge of the lake to drink and quick as a crocodile dragging its unwary prey into the water, Anna grabbed the brunette’s foot and dragged her out of the ring under the bottom rope.

Martina’s body fell heavily to the floor where she found herself on her ass and under attack as Anna leaped on her. Savagely, the tennis stars fought, rolling over and over, slapping, scratching, biting. Anna vengefully clawed Martina’s breasts while she wedgied the blonde’s panties tight up into her ass and pussy. Curses and screams filled the stale, odoriferous air.

With desperate strength, Anna rolled Martina onto her stomach and lay on her back, wrapping an arm around Martina’s throat as she choked the brunette. Martina bucked and squirmed but Anna clung desperately to her back like an overbearing parent. After a few seconds, Martina’s struggles slowed and then stopped. Anna smiled as she tightened her choke even more.

The moody blonde was on a high of epic proportions such that the weight of the world on her shoulders would be but a feather. These energy sapping submission holds weren’t really her style... but style be damned - she wanted to beat this bitch!

Slipping her arm under Martina’s belly, Anna rolled them over until she was on her back under and behind the naked Swiss Miss. Anna wrapped her spectacularly muscular legs around Martina’s midriff and began squeezing the precious air from the fading star.

In Martina’s woozy vision, the leering fans seemed frighteningly close, reaching out as if to paw at her naked body, to push it aside so they could ogle Anna’s. She started to scream at them to go away, to leave her alone, but Anna’s arm pressed down harder on her windpipe and the words came out as mere choking coughs.

Martina had to get away! Away from the mocking eyes and scornful, grinning faces. Frenziedly she struggled to escape, clawing Anna’s wrists and slamming her butt back into the blonde’s crotch. But Anna continued to hold on tight!

Raging like a tempest Martina finally broke free, slamming her head back into the bridge of Anna’s nose, feeling the taut limbs loosen and unwrap from around her.

Staggering to her feet, Martina had to grab the ring apron for support, looking around wildly for something with which to cover her naked body. A white towel lay on the floor, left behind after an earlier fight. It stank of sweat, but Martina wrapped it around her like she’d just stepped out of the shower.

It had crossed Anna’s mind that Martina was about to quit, to just walk up the ramp and leave. Then she saw the brunette pick up the towel and sniff it distastefully, she smiled smugly. From their time together as doubles partners Anna had known of Martina’ self-consciousness about her body. The Swiss Miss always changed in private. She’d tried to pass it off as a superstition, but Anna had surprised her one day, walking in to catch her naked in front of a mirror sobbing. They’d been friends then, of course, and Anna had hidden her contempt with reassuring platitudes. But now...all hang ups, phobias, insecurities and fears were fair game!

Still smiling, Anna wiped a trickle of blood from her nose. Thinking, I could use a towel for this. Barely had Martina finished checking that all her essentials were safely covered when Anna kicked her in the ass. Martina’s body shot forward, slamming into the steel ring post and getting better acquainted with the cold metal. Anna followed her in, driving her shoulder into Martina’ kidney.

“My nose is bleeding,” Anna said sweetly. “Can I borrow a towel to wipe off the blood?”

There was little the breathless Martina could do to stop her as Anna grabbed the top of the towel and, with a quick tug, whipped it off the once again naked brunette leaving her clinging to the ring post like it was coated with UHU.

The towel smelled and Anna wrinkled her nose as she delicately dabbed at the blood while she walked around the ring until she was on the side opposite of Martina. She rolled the dirty white towel in a ball and threw it deep into the crowd. As it parabolaed through the air it unfurled, seeming to hang for a second like a white flag of surrender before falling down into the sea of outstretched hands.

Martina buried her face in her hands on the apron and sobbed, wanting to run away but not daring to expose her body again to the crowd’s cruel faces. Martina’s body was like deadweight as Anna pushed one hand up between her legs and lifted, rolling her back into the ring. Anna remained outside, reaching under the ropes to take a grip on Martina’s ankles. She waited for the reaction, the inevitable panic and fight to break free but Martina was too absorbed in her own misery to struggle.

Like Martina before her Anna felt the disappointment of someone robbed of their fun and a scowl of anger disfigured her pretty face as she stepped back and jerked on Martina’s legs, impaling the brunette’s cunt on the ring post. Martina screamed and thrust her hands between her legs, pressing down on her crotch trying, and failing, to stop the hurt from spreading. Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks as acute physical pain banished fear of embarrassment from her head as she writhed on her back with her legs spread lewdly as her hands worked briskly on her pussy.

Anna climbed back into the ring and, with the brisk efficiency of an examining nurse with a patient, she flipped Martina over and sat on her back. Martina’s hair - frizzy with sweat - fanned out over her shoulders as Anna took a double handful and reared back as if she were working on a rowing machine. The clammy cheeks of Anna’s ass tobogganing down from Martina’s shoulders, coming to rest against the smooth slope of her bare bum.

It was, Anna decided, the perfect moment for photos. She bounced up and down, her bare tits flopping as men scrambled for cameras like she’d jerked a string on their backs. And they got quite a picture! Martina’s body curved upward like a figurehead on the prow of a ship; her cherubic face contorted in pain as the flashes seemed to shower her bare body.

“I used to laugh when you told journalists we were the glamour team in tennis. All the time you were hating yourself,” Anna spat, her pretty mouth full of spite. “I played with you then because you were the best, but you’ll never be best again. The good players now are too strong and if you’re not the best, why would anyone want to see you play? Because they like you?”

On and on Anna talked as Martina endured the blonde’s hands ripping at her scalp; felt Anna’s hot weight pressing down on her ass. Martina’s tears blurred the faces in the crowd - the whole world seemed to be just Anna. Hating her. Hurting her.

Martina struggled, desperate to free herself; her arms flailing blindly behind her until her hand brushed Anna’s breast. Closing her fingers, Martina squeezed tight and Anna gasped, but she quickly brushed away the pain - easy as a fake smile for some fleshy autograph hunter clutching his crusty ‘action pose’ poster. Anna captured and twisted Martina’ arm up behind her back like a cop making an arrest. No longer being held by the hair, Martina’s head dropped forward and hit the mat hard as she swapped back pain for shoulder pain. Smiling, Anna wrenched the armlock as she leaned down, her full breasts pancaking on Swiss girl’s back, oozing over her sweaty skin like a swollen river.

“That’s right, hide your face from them,” she said, her breath blowing wisps of hair from Martina’s cheek. Anna saw the brunette’s face was blotchy with sweat and tears. “If you don’t struggle I can protect you - like before. But if you struggle... well, then they’ll all see you. See that next to me you’re nothing, a joke to be laughed at.”

Anna thinking she’s being smart, poured on the insults, but Martina was done fighting the crowd. She kicked back and the heel of her left foot slammed into Anna’s ass cheek, jolting her body forward. She did it again, this time with the right foot, lashing out like a colt stung by the branding iron. Her foot struck home, flush on the base of Anna’s spine.

The pain numbed Anna instant and her grip on her rival’s wrist faltered like her batteries ran out. She rolled sideways off of Martina and the brunette sighed, pushing out her cheeks and letting the trapped air slowly escape as she rubbed her trembling shoulder.

Both girls got to their feet with Anna taking a moment to pick her panties out of her butt, then letting the elastic snap back with a soft thwack. Her eyes flashing, Anna raised her fists, determined to dictate the rest of the fight. Martina followed suit and Anna smiled as she studied her opponent; her tight little hands pathetically small, her fingers squeezed together until the knuckles were white. Those hands could hurt her? Anna thought just the idea was ridiculous.

Anna’s gaze shifted to Martina’s chest and Martina looked down self-consciously as her gaze followed Anna’s. She shifted her feet, fighting the desire to fold her arms across her chest and cover up as Anna opened her mouth to speak.

“Don’t bother,” Martina stopped her. She spoke with an effort, her voice tight, “It won’t work anymore.”


“We’ve all got our demons to fight but you can’t beat them until you admit they’re there.”

Anna’s round face went blank as her mind struggled with the idea, but Martina spread her arms wide exposing herself to the ogling eyes of the fans. The gesture left her body exposed and her small breasts glistened like polished silver in the glare of the lights. Looking out over the mass of faceless shapes penned like cattle behind the crowd control barriers, Martina smiled.

“I thought I was fighting them, but it was always really inside me. They weren’t beating me, I was beating mys... Ooof.”

Anna, tired of listening to Martina’s blithering, reared back and punched the Swiss Miss in the jaw. Martina staggered.

“No, I was the one beating you,” corrected the Russian coolly.

Anna knew the mind-games were over. Now it was to be a straight fight. Her arms felt loose, her legs strong and her hatred had cleared her mind. She would win. But just as during a sporting event when two teams will look back over their progress and find turning points; twists of fate that convince both sides their victory is meant to be, so Martina was also certain she would win.

Martina rubbed her throbbing jaw as she shuffled back out of range before raising her fists once more. Fist fighting was rare in the Federation; not only was it a difficult skill to master, but with bare fists left far more visible marks and the injuries took longer to heal. Yet, straight away it was obvious why Anna wanted this type of fight. She had a greater reach than Martina, and her powerful shoulders lent her blows more strength than the petite Swiss Miss could manage.

Their style was awkward though, more like ‘Celebrity Boxing’ or some Saturday Night Live parody of professional boxing, and neither was doing any serious damage. Their pattern was predictable and hence easily avoidable - Anna would jab at Martina’s face, Martina would try to duck under the blow and get in close where she’d pound on the blonde’s body until the Russian’s quickness would take her back out of trouble. Over and over the same moves were repeated until it almost seemed they were synchronizing their moves to avoid hurting each other. Then, suddenly, Martina was inside Anna’s arms, twisting all her body weight behind a swinging hook, her fist digging into Anna’s side.

Martina heard Anna gasp over the roar of the crowd as her body bent sideways trying to escape the blow, like a man running down the tracks away from a hurtling train. Martina’s fist burrowed into the soft flesh until her knuckles hit bone, then she stepped back and looked at Anna.

Anna stood frozen, her eyes shut tight against the pain, her teeth clenched. She knew with the certainty of error that it was over.

‘Always it was really inside me,. Anna remembered Martina’s words as she swayed on her feet.

Pain seemed to flow through her arteries like thick cloying mud, clogging her bodies responses. Giving up would be easy, for it was in HER nature; it was inside of HER. This was HER demon!

Anna struggled simply to open her eyes. She blinked back the tears as Martina’s face loomed so close Anna could see her own reflection in the brunette’s steady gaze. There was total understanding; they both knew so much more than they wanted to about the other.

Anna gasped, “This time I won’t quit.”

“I know,” Martina said with a tight grin.

Martina backed off and set herself for when Anna would predictably lunge for her again. She did and they tumbled to the mat as one. The crowd hollered anew at the close contact between the lush, pale, naked torsos. When they stopped rolling, Martina came out on top, spreading her legs wide to stop the Russian from twisting them over again. The blonde’s arms were under the brunette’s, her hands cupping Martina’s spread cheeks to create leverage.

Then Anna raked her nails over Martina’s round ass cheeks making her scream! Suddenly, they were rolling again, arms wrapped tightly about each other, legs entangled. This time Anna came out on top and Martina was pulling at her panties, stripping her naked while Anna’s hands were wrapped in Martina’s hair.

The position was intimate, like sex. Anna felt Martina’s breath against her flushed cheek as they lay pressed together. She hated that fights like this were the only times she was able to get close to someone so she could smell and taste them.

“Fuck you!” Anna shouted as she felt her panties torn away.

Anna reared up and cracked her open hand across Martina’s ruddy face.

“Bitch!” the Swiss Miss yelled back, heaving her hips up and pounding a knee into Anna’s crotch.

Anna moaned, her sweaty body knocked forward until one breast flopped down to cover Martina’s mouth, gaping open to suck in much needed oxygen after the long, rough struggle. As soon as she felt Anna’s hard nipple on her lips, Martina bit down. At the same time, she clasped her hands together in the middle of Anna’s back, hugging her close.

Shit did that hurt! Anna’s body was sick of the pain, flaring up like hives wherever Martina’s hands roamed. Her battered bodied cried out SUBMIT as she lay panting, feeling Martina’ chest rising and falling beneath her belly. Anna was sure she was going to lose and maybe her quitting might deny Martina the satisfaction of beating fruitlessly on a limp rag doll of an opponent.

But that wasn’t what mattered.

Shit was this gonna hurt though.

Anna pushed both hands onto Martina’s forehead as she arched her back and pushed herself up. It stretched her trapped nipple like a bungee cord. Martina hung on stubbornly her teeth dug into Anna’s skin until POP, her breast was free! Martina’s teeth clacked together with a noisy click, reminding Anna of the clacking teeth she’d seen in novelty shops.

Both women were tiring rapidly now. Their sweaty bodies rubbed together like they were trying to start a fire and there was no thought of strategy or tactics; just scratch or punch wherever you could get your hands on and bite wherever your teeth happened to be.

“You stink,” Martina gasped, she could smell stale fear in Anna’s breath, sharp and foul.

“Well you’re ugly,” Anna muttered, her nails tearing at Martina’s full, round ass cheeks again.

Martina didn’t want to think about what it would be like to sit down later. Close up, she could see imperfections in Anna’s beautiful face. The fine, translucent hairs at her temples were matted with sweat and a pair of spots swelled on the corner of her mouth, but they didn’t mar her exquisite, indeed they seemed to make it even more human.

Suddenly Martina couldn’t stand to look at Anna any longer. She buried her face in Anna’s shoulder, her lips tasting the Russian’s moist body while her fists pummeled Anna’s flanks. Ten more, then she would end it. Anna’s fingers had stopped clawing and were now just resting lightly on her ass.

Gingerly, Martina wrapped her arms around the back of Anna’s head and rolled over, pulling Anna on top of her. Martina slid forward, their stiff nipples brushing together. Then Martina’s breasts were on Anna’s face and the blonde’s hot, rapid, breathes were tickling her. Martina lay stretched out full length on top of Anna, her skin gleamed like a golden trophy under the lights. Martina looked at the Russian’s perfect ass and thought about scratching it up, disfiguring it, but there was no need. Anna’s hands slid off of Martina’s ass and dropped to the mat.

Martina took a deep breath, got up and walked naked out of the ring as her fans cheered wildly.