Solange is the junior partner of sorts in what could well become a catfighting dynasty. Her sister, Beyonce, has already established herself as a premier fighter, and young Solange is anxious to prove she's as good as...if not better than...her big sister. Standing in the shadow of her celebrated sibling, she can't afford any failures in the early stages of her fighting career...not if she wants to be taken seriously as anything other than a pale imitation of Beyonce, that is.

Michelle had to prove herself in a different way. She was immediately vaulted to the front ranks of newcomers with back-to-back debut victories over Ashley Poole and Scarlett Johansson. But then she found herself in a feud with Scarlett, and Michelle wound up losing their next two matches. The twin defeats took the luster off of her rising star, and she was in danger of being perceived as a failure before she ever got the chance to truly shine.

Thus, a match between the two eager 18 year olds seemed like the perfect solution for both of them, and one that promised fireworks for the spectators as well!

Solange entered the spacious living room first to a burst of applause from the spectators, among them the most privileged members of Southern California high society. The Texan wore a black 'liquid lame' one piece, with a single strap over her left shoulder. Her long hair was like a lion's mane, and indeed, she moved with the grace of a jungle cat. Next came Michelle in a pink tankini, chestnut hair pulled back into a ponytail, her sparkling eyes and broad smile projecting an aura of innocence that belied the fact that she had already proven herself to be a savage wildcat in battle.

The two combatants received their last minute instructions from the host, the whole time never taking their eyes off of one another. There was an unspoken current between them that made it clear that neither would show mercy this night.

The signal given, the match begun, the two teens cagily circle one another, each probing for an opening. After what seems like an eternity, Michelle suddenly strikes with cobra speed, grabbing her opponent by the wrist and twisting her arm. Solange grunts as pain shoots up her limb and settles into her shoulder, then the tawny tigress yelps as her foe drives an elbow smash into her shoulder. Solange doubles over at the waist from the blow, but she uses this to her advantage, as she suddenly grabs the legs of the startled Michelle and, with a heave, topples the brunette to the floor. Michelle gives a dismayed cry as she falls.

Solange’s first instinct was to pounce on her prone rival. But Beyonce had drilled into her head the fact that she should take every opportunity she could get to recuperate from harm, and her arm was still aching from having been twisted, so she definitely needed a few moments to work the ache out. Anyway, it was still too early in the match to beat Michelle, and it would be foolish for Solange to squander herself in any such attempt right now. There will be plenty of chances to beat Michelle soon enough, the Texan assures herself.

Michelle scowls as she gets to her feet, angry and embarrassed that her rookie opponent was able to get the better of her like that. Clearly, she had underestimated Solange, a luxury which she could not afford to indulge in any longer. With a new glint of fierceness tinged with wary respect, Michelle again cautiously moves towards her rival.

Now it is Solange's turn to be overconfident as she mistakenly assumes that her adversary will again repeat her attempt to apply an armbar. Michelle cannily feints such a move, then confounds her foe by instead slipping behind her and locking Solange up with a full nelson. Solange is confused at first...the hold does little more than cause discomfort, not any real pain, but it perfectly traps her so that she cannot pull free no matter how hard she struggles. The hold provides Michelle the time she needs to plot her next move and to set her rival up for it.

Suddenly releasing the nelson, Michelle wraps her arms around Solange's waist from behind, then hoists her up into the air, holding her aloft for several moments before finally bringing her back downwards. As she does so, Michelle drops to one knee, leaving the other outstretched in such a way that Solange's crotch is aimed to crash hard into it.

However, realizing what her opponent is attempting, Solange extends her long legs to their fullest, allowing her feet to hit the floor and halt her descent mere inches away from the atomic drop impacting her groin. Michelle is confused for a moment, not quite certain why her maneuver didn't work as planned, and that's just the window of opportunity Solange needs to swing her left arm back, her elbow smashing into her adversary's face, sending Michelle sprawling!

This time, Solange doesn't pass up the opportunity to go on the offensive. She launches a kick to her victim's ribs that causes Michelle to violently flip over onto her stomach. Solange then mounts her foe, sitting atop the brunette's back and lacing her fingers beneath Michelle’s chin. Jerking the head up and back, she has Michelle gritting her teeth and groaning from the pain being applied to her neck and spine.

After more than a minute of this torture, Solange suddenly shifts tactics; releasing her grip on her foe's chin, she instead grabs Michelle by the hair and begins ramming her face again and again into the carpeted floor! The brunette is quickly reduced to a low, pained moan as her glazed eyes roll, the savage pounding leaving her too stunned to mount any sort of a defense.

Finally halting her thumping, Solange rolls Michelle over onto her back and gives her a contemptuous sneer. Everyone had warned her to be careful of Michelle, but so far, the brunette was proving to be far less of a threat than expected. "You're all hype, aren't you?" Solange derisively asked; she was answered by an agonized groan from her rival.

Suddenly, a wicked gleam sparkles in Solange's eyes. She positions herself so that she's kneeling over her foe's chest, facing towards her lower body. Dramatically raising the back of her hand to her forehead as if she were swooning, Solange announces loudly, "Gracious, these fisticuffs certainly take a lot out of a girl. I need to sit down and rest."

Michelle's eyes go wide as she realizes the meaning of her tormentor's words, and she gasps out a frantic "Noooooooooooooooooo…" as Solange plants her derriere across her face!

The brunette desperately thrashes, but she is unable to throw her adversary off. Solange cackles with glee as she smothers her rival beneath her; to further amuse herself, she uses her fingers to pinch Michelle's nipples through the thin fabric of her halter, adding an extra touch of pain and humiliation. All too soon, Michelle’s movements grow sluggish, and it's clear she on the verge of unconsciousness. But then, unexpectedly, Solange rises up to her knees.

"Oh, no baby girl," Solange says as she grabs the gasping Michelle’s hair. "We're not through playing yet!" she hisses as she pulls the semi-conscious Michelle to her feet.

With one hand holding her firmly by the ponytail and the other grabbing her bikini panties and jerking them up in a painful wedgie, Solange cruelly forces Michelle to walk around the room, parading the brunette before the assembled crowd like a captive trophy. Michelle can only stumble along, as the glassiness of her eyes makes it clear she has not yet recovered from the senses-shattering smother she had suffered mere moments before. Having shown off her hapless playthings, Solange slams her adversary's back into the wall and Michelle's knees buckle from the impact, but she refuses to fall...which suits Solange just fine!

With a sinister glee, she lifts the brunette's tankini top up until she exposes her pert breasts, then in a voice dripping with condescension, she says, "Tsk-tsk...these poor things aren't going to grow if you don't take care of them, baby girl. Here, let me help you give them a proper work out."

With one hand, Solange grips Michelle’s right breast and squeezes, her stiletto fingers digging deep into the tender flesh; with the other hand she makes a fist, and then she begins jack hammering it into the brunette's exposed breast. Each malicious blow flattens the bosom down with a sickening THUD!

Michelle's only response is an agonized moan from the squeezing, punctuated by pained yelps with every punch. Her body trembles from the abuse, her head sways back and forth, and tears streak her cheeks, but she offers no resistance...much to the confusion and disappointment of the spectators. Many of them had seen her battles against Johansson and Poole, and they had seen what a magnificent warrior she was. And yet now, she was little more than a frightened and helpless girl.

The fact was, those two crushing losses to Scarlett had done much to shake Michelle's confidence in herself. And so desperate was she to erase the stigma of those defeats with a victory tonight, she was over-anxious, and it had left her vulnerable. Now, victimized by Solange's brutally efficient assault, Michelle’s nerve had broken, and she was paralyzed by fear. As painful as the attack she was suffering now is, she feared what Solange could really do to her, and so the brunette did nothing to defend herself, foolishly hoping that her opponent would simply stop hurting her and end the match quickly. It was cowardly, Michelle knew...and she hated herself for feeling that way. But she was too scared to do anything else.

And then Solange changed all that with a few words as, still mauling her victim's breasts, Solange began to taunt her, "Damn! I was told you were tough, but I'm not even breaking a sweat on you. How much does Johansson suck that you managed to beat her even once?"

Just the mention of her bete noir's name set Michelle's blood boiling! Every humiliating act which Scarlett had perpetrated on her came flooding back into the brunette's memory...as did each moment of Michelle’s own magnificence. She may have lost two of the three battles, but at any given time during those fights, she knew, she was as good or better as any other cat fighter, including Scarlett. And damned better than Solange could ever hope to be on her very best day!

Suddenly, eyes that shone with shameful fear just moments ago now blazed with anger and intensity, and Michelle channeled that power into a knee lift deep into her rival's lower belly. Solange gasped and took a step backwards, and was met an instant later by a palm thrust blow to the jaw!

Momentarily staggered, the sepia beauty left herself wide open for a kick to the chest, Michelle's ballet-trained leg firing like a missile, burying the ball of her foot deep into Solange's right breast, drawing a pained squeal from the target. A follow up kick landed the arch of Michelle’s right foot flush across the bridge of her rival's nose, snapping Solange's head back with a shower spray of perspiration...thus putting the lie to her remark only moments earlier that her foe had failed to raise a single bead of sweat from exertion.

But Michelle wasn't the only experienced dancer in this fight. Firing blind, Solange leashed out with a kick of her own, miraculously landing squarely in the center of the brunette's right breast. The blow to the already badly mauled mammary sent a shockwave of pain throughout Michelle’s body, stunning her for several moments. Solange put those precious second to good use, lifting her left leg until it was pointing almost perfectly to the ceiling. Slightly dazed, Michelle made the mistake of raising her head to see what her opponent was doing...and she was rewarded with the heel of Solange's foot smashing hard into her forehead as the battler brought her leg down fast! Knees buckling and legs wobbling, Michelle stumbled backwards away from her adversary.

Solange took advantage of the brief respite in the battle to lick her wounds and gather what remained of her strength. After nearly a minute in which the only sound in the room was the labored breathing of both beauties, Solange and Michelle, seemingly communicating on some primitive instinctual level, both charged simultaneously! Their bodies collided with the crack of wet flesh and they tumbled to the carpet, rolling back and forth in the struggle for control. Legs entwined, hands ripping at hair, fingers digging into faces, rivulets of sweat covering every inch of their taut bodies as they battled, they engaged in this savage orgy of destruction for over five minutes, sparing precious breath only occasionally to hiss profanities at one another that made grown men in the crowd of spectators blush.

Somehow...no one was quite sure how...Michelle finally managed to position herself behind her opponent, where she was able to snake her legs around Solange's waist for a body scissors. Solange growled in agony and defiance as the crushing vice tightened around her ribs, and her hands began to paw and yank at the limbs locked around her midsection before she finally began to focus on Michelle’s feet, specifically trying to break her toes in order to force the brunette to release her hold.

Michelle winced from the sudden pain of her twisted toes, but she wasted no time in countering Solange's attempt to break free. Pulling her own tattered tank halter off, Michelle wrapped it around her foe's throat, strangling her! Solange abandoned her hold on her rival's feet and tried to pull the cloth noose from her neck, but to little avail. Between being choked and being scissor , it wasn't long before Solange was reduced to the bare edge of consciousness. The match was now undeniably Michelle's to win at her leisure, so she released her scissor hold and let Solange collapse sideways to the floor with a moan.

But instead of simply going for the pin or demanding that her foe submit, Michelle grabbed Solange by her matted hair and said, sarcastically, "Oh, no baby girl...we're not through playing yet!"

Solange's eyes went wide with fear as Michelle roughly shoved her onto her back, then positioned herself so that her derriere was hovering above the hapless girl's face. Returning tit for tat, so to speak, Michelle then smothered Solange with a face sit while simultaneously clawing, pinching , slapping and pounding Solange's breasts, until the brunette was satisfied that her rival would be at least as black and blue as she would be. Other than the heaving of her battered chest and the rasping of her labored breathing, there was no sign of life in Solange. The exhausted Michelle stood up and planted her foot on her beaten adversary's chest to signal her triumph, to the cheers of the dazzled crowd of onlookers.