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Update: 12.03.2021

F-667 "Butchery in the cage"

Gallery size: 240 Full HD pictures

Mixed fighting freestyle, 240 pictures 1920x1080 (FullHD), no nudity, bloody action.

As a girl, Debbie had been what was known as a "tomboy". She enjoyed competing with boys at school in football, running, and all the "respectable" sports. Sport is often controversial, particularly among teenagers, and sometimes a dispute over a penalty, the off-side rule - and especially a foul – could lead to a fight.

The first time this happened, everything was a blur for Debbie. It had all been a bit confused, and the fight had been broken up by the others before any harm could be suffered or inflicted. But it had thrilled her at the same time. If she enjoyed beating boys at sport, what about beating them in a fight? She relished the humiliation she knew a boy felt if she successfully tackled him, or beat him in a race. How much greater would that humiliation be if he got beaten at the ultimate level?

She learnt the basic styles in classes outside school, telling her parents she was going to dancing lessons. She was fit and strong anyway, so not too much effort was needed to channel this into becoming a formidable combatant. She had a good deal of self-confidence as it was, so it wasn’t long before she deliberately fouled a boy playing football, and mocked him because he fell down clutching his ankle. He lost his temper and stood up on his damaged, painful ankle, and she soundly beat him.

True, she got suspended from school. But it was the boy who had to change schools because he couldn’t live with the embarrassment, while she went back a heroine among the girls, and feared and respected among the boys.

Anyone out for trouble can usually find it, and after she left school she found pubs could provide male antagonists, especially if they’d had a lot to drink. But it was clumsy stuff, all the same. So she joined an MMA club. But she was disappointed that the "mixed" applied strictly to the styles of combat, and not to the sexes. There was no fun for her in fighting other women, even though that was all that was on offer. So she resolved to find a male fighter and try to annoy him, just as she used to footballers at school.

It was easy! She chose Mick, of about the same height as her, and not very clever. When he trained she would laugh at his moves, or make her phone play a silly tune. If he had a match, she always let it be known that she favoured his opponent. If she went to see the match she would laugh and cheer if he missed, or took a fall. Eventually Mick decided to speak to her, because it was affecting his personal rating.

"Look, have I done anything to upset you? Because you seem to have a grudge against me."

"Not really. I just think you have too high an opinion of your ability, which is crap."

"What? You can’t speak to people like that!"

"So what are you going to do about it?"

"If you were a man, I’d challenge you."

"Oh, how convenient for you!" Debbie jeered. "Hiding behind the single sex rule. Because if you ever faced me in the cage, you’d need a week off work to recover."

She had raised her voice deliberately, so people around them could hear. "Bad blood" was traditionally settled in the cage, but the club had never had a male-female dispute before.  Still, as they both consented to the idea, and those around them were fascinated with it, the club decided to make an exception to the rule, and a match was agreed for a week’s time.


Mick was baffled. How had he ended up in this situation? For many of the male club members, and one or two of the female ones, an argument reached the point where it needed to be settled in the cage. But this woman, whom he scarcely knew, had insulted him in front of people and put him in the situation where he had no choice but to accept a match. Oh well, he thought, there’s no point in wondering how it happened anymore. He had better just accept it. He trained quite hard during the week before, but still couldn’t shake off his unease.

This feeling intensified when he entered the arena for the fight. It was packed, and he could sense the atmosphere of excitement – far greater than for a usual fight, with many more women than usual. He was received with applause, and he walked towards the cage. The roar of applause and cheers some moments afterwards, which proclaimed Debbie’s arrival, did nothing to ease his misgivings.

Neither did the sight of his opponent as they faced each other in the cage! Her face was the epitome of calculating determination. Although she was fairly slightly built, and not especially muscular, she seemed to transmit strength and femininity at the same time. Her legs were long and toned, and Mick anticipated a kick to open the match. At the same time, her white leotard emphasised a trim waist, curvy bottom, and delightful breasts. But he must watch those legs, and be prepared to spring out of the way …

A sharp palm strike thudded into his left cheek bone. His head shot to the side, as pain throbbed through the side of his face. Debbie had indeed intended to start with a kick from one of her powerful legs; but she was aware of him watching out for one, so she instantly changed tactics, and was grimly pleased to see it paid off. She had momentarily knocked him off balance.

"Now comes the kick," she thought, as her right foot crashed against Mick’s left hip. He staggered and lurched to his right, to be directly propelled back again by Debbie’s left fist. It was a good, straight punch that ploughed into his jaw, and had him hopping to keep his balance. 

"I’ve got to fight back," thought Mick, and he struck with a left cross. Debbie leant out of its path, slamming her right foot into his balls. The first sounds came from the crowd at this moment – cheers from several women, and groans from some of the men.

Mick went hot and cold, thought he was going to be sick, and blundered about as if he were drunk. Debbie grabbed his right shoulder, hauling his arm back into a lock, and pushed him down into her upcoming knee. It was a savage blow into his face, drawing blood. A few people in the crowd winced and looked away for a moment. Some even missed her next strike. 

Still holding his shoulder, she spun him round, facing away from her, and sent him running to stay upright with a left kick into the small of his back. Mick steadied himself, turned round, and Debbie kicked out. Cage fighting isn’t for the faint-hearted, including spectators, but for the second time some turned away at the cruel impact of her left foot on his face. The blood was now flowing freely as Mick, stunned, desperately tried to stay on his feet. But Debbie had been keeping her sleek right leg in reserve. With Mick swaying after her first kick, a missile of a kick struck his left ear.

Incredibly, to the audience, it seemed to steady him. It was as if the right kick cancelled the left one out. But Mick’s hearing was now muffled, adding to his sense of unreality. Moreover, Debbie had bludgeoned him so much that she had slowed him down and was able to take her time. All she had to do was wait until he was in the right position. Her left foot now swung in behind his left knee. It doesn’t matter how accomplished a fighter is, a tendon is still vulnerable, and she momentarily rendered his left leg useless.

Mick shifted his weight to his right leg, while the worst of the pain in his left seared up to his hip and down to his ankle. Once again Debbie waited; then, balancing on her left leg, she kicked once more with her right. For the second time her foot slammed into his balls, as she grabbed his right wrist. Mick yelled in pain, as she pulled him to her with her grip on his wrist, and pushed hard with her foot on his manhood.

Debbie seemed to be a fighting machine, a robot programmed to inflict the worst pain at the right moment. Because as Mick tried to absorb her latest punishment, she banged her right elbow into his mouth, just as the flow of blood had been easing. He tried to crouch to avoid any further attack, so she helped herself to the target of his neck with her other elbow. Then, pushing him down further with both hands, she brought her left knee up into his upper stomach and ribs. With her knee still poised, she transferred it to his face, breaking his nose.

Mick was on his knees, struggling to avoid collapsing altogether. Debbie spun to face away from him on her left leg, then back-kicked with her right. Once again, his face was the target. Now pivoting on her right leg, she turned back to face him, and followed up with a left kick in the same place. One or two people in the crowd started shouting "Ref!" in vain for Mick’s sake, as her heel and sole did such damage to his face. But there was no ref.

That was it: Mick was now flat on his back. The woman stood over the man, with her right foot poised above his groin. The crowd knew what was coming, but she made them wait. It’s doubtful if Mick was aware, because his brain was by now so addled after all the shocks his body and head had taken.

At last Debbie brought her foot down hard; and for a moment Mick’s head and feet left the canvas in recoil, his mouth open in a silent scream.

"You’ve won. Finish the fight for God’s sake!" a man shouted from the front row. "You’ve made your point, it’s enough now!" yelled someone else. But they were drowned out by those whose taste for brutality had not been entirely satisfied. All the while Debbie toyed with her victim – a cat with a mouse - easing the pressure off one moment, increasing it the next. She invited the spectators to look at the effect of her "footwork", by pointing at his middle, undulating in response to her first braking, then accelerating. One or two turned down the invitation, others roared, cheered and laughed.

"She still hasn’t finished!" declared the man who had first urged her to end the fight. For now, Debbie knelt down on one knee over Mick, grabbing his throat with one hand, and balling her other into a fist. His hands flailed away, vainly trying to remove hers from his throat. Once again she kept the crowd waiting, posing over him with her left fist clenched. Then, sitting on his stomach, the woman punched. Her fist crunched into his face, with the inevitable blood-letting.

"Now what’s she up to?" the squeamish man in the crowd asked anyone who was interested. For Debbie now adjusted her position. She knelt on her left leg and stretched her right thigh between Mick’s legs, resting it on his groin.

"Now that is tormenting him!" commented the man. 

"I wouldn’t have thought she’d get any response after all the damage she’s inflicted there," added another.

"Sshh," hissed a woman, intrigued as to what would happen next. She didn’t have long to wait, for Debbie now hammered Mick’s eye with her left fist. His head swung to the other side with the impact.

"What a tease!" commented a new voice, as Debbie now sat on Mick’s groin, and punched his chin with her left fist. Then she swept down with her right. Now back to her left, hooking inwards. Mick’s head rocked back with the impact, but there was no recovery, no flicker. She had knocked him out.

Debbie stood over him, her foot on his groin, and her fist raised in triumph. The crowd cheered and applauded thunderously. The cage had seen its first mixed fight, and the woman had butchered the man.

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