A collection of my stories





Doth the lady protests too much



Vultures have been circling since the early morning over a nearby cadaver of a coyote, which was shot by competitors of Old Beggar Pete, a septuagenarian gold miner. He just moved into the shades from the midday Sun in preparation of blasting down a closed off mine shaft that he inherited from his younger brother. The year was 1858 of the Lord's in the area to be known today as Mountain States, more specifically Utah state. There have been various legends as to why and how his brother died with the most prevalent being slaughtered by Native Americans, but Pete leaned towards those polygamists being behind it, so if nothing comes out the inheritance, he'll move back East. Suddenly the multiple kegs of gunpowder cleared the way, and Pete was able to move inward once the dust had settled. After spending a few hours with his pickax, he managed to strike gold. He swore to himself, if the heat and old age won't kill him, he can now finally visit Madame La Roche's parlor house.






Marlene Whitman née Kayserling was in her late '50s, as she obliged to follow her husband toward new territories as foreseen by the late church leader. Her husband was a missionary, as was she, but the French plaid taffeta morning dress revealed little of her past. As she looked out of the window of the stagecoach, she used the silence to remember her life, the one she had before she resolved herself to this one. Almost 30 years ago in the German Empire, she had lost her first family to a cholera outbreak, so she decided to settle down in the New World. To her shock, her American "friends" sold her to indentured servitude and with the help of Quaker abolitionists, she managed to get away. She was polite with them, but did not think of staying. Her father was a hunter, so she learned how to use guns at an early age and fancied herself becoming a frontier. However, as much as her position was more reputable than that of Madame La Roche, whom she will meet shortly, the adventurous life of a frontier was looked down upon, especially if they were women. Using the help of the Friends, she had found the Elders. Elder Thomas Whitman came from a puritan lineage which was coupled with military experience, so their marriage was advantageous for both sides. Marlene belonged to an inner circle that had a dual purpose, for one, to use military measures to keep out native barbarians and the army, two, use the gold rush to prove the church founder was right, the fabled golden plates are buried right there in America as foretold. Toward the end of the first purpose, Marlene was used multiple times as a covert agent who leads the community and can use her skills in combat, for the second... Bill Rutherford had to die for something, and the only obstacle was his brother, Pete.






Madame Georgina La Roche wasn't French. As per customary of the time, Euro-American prostitutes of higher class took on such names to sound more elegant, not that she needed it. Due to the fact that 5 mining towns were in close proximity, she could afford to run a parlor house, which was above a brothel, it would be a call girl service nowadays, the kind Spitzer and Weiner would deny using. Contrary to common conception, even though shortage on women in California just a decade before led to some action, the kind conservatives are caught for in airport bathrooms, brothels and parlor houses weren't primarily about sex. More like booze, and a lot of it. Giulana Cherisi knew this all to well as she was born in the Kingdom of Two Sicily at the turn of the century. She fled the country after the failed revolution of 1848, in which she was a clandestine informant of the rebels. She learned how to defend herself way before that as a street urchin and prostitute, due to her father dying fighting for Napoleon and her mother dying during childbirth.



She was less than pleased when Pete entered the establishment, feeling that he was beneath both the class the income the place deserved. She almost called out to Philip (a past precursor of today's almost made it to the NFL, but became a night club bouncer) a former Irish boxer until Pete put a giant nugget on the table and ordered for everyone. As a businesswoman and former rebel, she learned not to ask if it was ill gotten gains, though had she done it, it might just have saved her a fight of her lifetime.






Directly opposite from the parlor house was the hotel where Marlene arrived with her sister wives. As the fort, given its nature only accommodated men and their houses were yet to be built, Elder Thomas made the decision of bringing his wives to the hotel on the church's dime. Marlene's sister wives for whom she was responsible were much younger to the tune they could have been their daughters if she had new children. Hearing the commotion, she had asked the hotel manager, a plain young woman about the nature and duration of it, and she replied that the locals were used to it. Unsatisfied with the answer, she stormed into the den of sin only to be confronted with a woman close to her age in a purple morning dress with wide pagoda sleeves. They exchanged some heated words, and the woman offered a more quieter discussion upstairs but not before Marlene caught a glimpse of the nugget. Their continued discussion bore no fruit as neither was willing to budge from their morals and convictions.



Something was however different. Marlene was used to getting her way as leader of the community, something the church expected to happen here too. This town was however different, it lacked formerly on so called reputable women, filled until now by Georgina. That wasn't all, however. Marlene sensed that just like her, Georgina wasn't American born either and the more they digged each other for information, the more conflicts did they uncover. Even though she was a monarchist and Georgina was a republican, the feeling she had wasn't entirely hatred. She needed to dominate this woman but in such a way she had never felt before. The question only was, will it happen before she kills her for the nugget, or not.






During the nighttime Marlene has sneaked out of her room in a complete black garb and she hid her blonde hair under a cap used for swimming in order to break into the same house she visited in the morning. The goal is to steal the nugget to deliver proof to her husband the mine isn't empty. As the saying goes, even the best laid plans of mice and men go awry, the moment Marlene managed to climb into the room where the nugget was held, she was attacked by someone in pettipants, at least that was her best guess in the total dark. Without exchanging words, they crushed to the floor under a barrage of punches. The woman managed to kick Marlene away, only to grab onto something that turned out to be a revolver. Marlene remembered that these new guns can't shoot if their cylinders aren't in place, so they struggled for it. Slowly, but surely, Marlene's eyes grew accustomed to the darkness and it was then that she realized who her opponent is.



She didn't however had the time to think about it that much as she felt the other woman's breasts pressing into her own. It was a curiosity stemming from a mixture of a forbidden fruit and something undiscovered. More than before, she wanted this woman with every fiber of her being, so she wrested the gun out of her hand and kissed the brown haired woman. Much to her surprise, Georgina wasn't resisting it, nay, she took the lead. They started to roll on the floor, until both realized how much more comfortable the bed is. They helped each other undress and continued their competition of lust and dominance with small sighs and grunts, slowly setting on a 69 position. Both women were certain of not feeling such satisfaction with any previous partner.



Still, both of them knew the morning will come, and a not so sensual conflict has to be resolved, best at the mine itself.





Second story


Doth the lady protests too much Part 2



Third story


Disclaimer : This story of fiction is not one of exploitation, rather a niche not usually covered. If possible, given credit where it's due, there ought to be a translation in Braille too. All characters as usual are above the age of 18.








A difference in handicap or The Struggle for Stroke Control






The day started as usual, well, as usual it can be for a Spring morning off campus of Brown University. My name is Sylvia Lattimer and I'm a sophomore on Brown, and am one of the students who attends the university as a blind person. This being a Friday, I followed my usual routine of going downstairs to collect my mail before preparing for the weekend at home, or, as of late, with my new boyfriend in Philadelphia, One of the letters had no sender or return address, and contained a short note: “Stay away from him, or else...”




Though I became slightly rattled, I decided to not report it to campus cops, the faint scent of perfume suggested it was a woman and that I can usually handle, in the sense that an honorable person wouldn't get physical with a visually impaired person. Everything went normal as the day moved forward, so I decided to skip a class to read my favorite book in the library.




I was just about to begin the new chapter when I discovered something odd...even though the page was in Braille, it was definitely not part of the book and somebody has glued it on the usual page. Weirdly enough, it hasn't followed that of a hostile tone as the other but it was still menacing, at least to me. She has announced that her name is Hannah, she goes to the Gallaudet University (the nation's foremost college for deaf and mute people in D.C.) and that my boyfriend, the sociology major Derek is actually her boyfriend of long term. In no uncertain terms she has emphasized that she wishes to meet me over the weekend to discuss “details”.




She's smart, I have to give her that. By making it seem like a civilized invitation, it can't be classified as a threat, unless repeated. Well, if dance is what she wants... as a kid, I got bullied a lot so I decided to end that by learning to defend myself.








The next morning I've arrived in my hometown with the Amtrak train and shortly after leaving the station, a young woman has linked her hand with mine, signaling that she wishes to help me cross, but the slightly stronger scent of perfume gave it away who that is. I had wished I could just raise my white cane and strike her, but alas it would draw too much attention and get me into trouble. As the cab drove up, we got in and she activated the text to speech app, telling me that she “looked forward to” meeting my family, whom she befriended online in the past few weeks. I, on the other hand, looked forward to beat her senseless, deaf or not. What she actually planned however has exceeded my expectations.








After exiting the cab, I paid the driver and helped collect our luggage. I watched this girl with the shoulder long auburn hair move toward their house front and I've suddenly felt a sharp pain as she passed me by, “accidentally” hitting me with her white cane. Her 5'8” athletic figure was well hidden in her long overcoat, but it seemed that my Derek had a type, if we are to ignore that I'm strawberry blond with a long mane. My father named me Hannah because Splash was his favorite movie.




I wanted to shake the thought that Derek chose both of us as some kind of twisted experiment, where one of us can talk but never says much, the other can see, but was obviously blinded enough by love to not realize she's being played.






Nevertheless, ever since I found their text exchanges, I've spent a few days to recon this girl and her family, with convincing them first that I too go to her university. It was only then that I've cased her out. Normally, as most women, I'd just dump his ass and move on, but I don't like being taken for a fool, plus I had to make sure she wasn't in on it, nor would pose a threat in the future. Thus fighting her here, today was pretty much a given.




After exchanging pleasantries, we settled in the living room and got to know each other better in person, and I had to admit, her family was quite nice, even if they raised a bitch of a daughter. If for nothing else, it's a good exercise in making her sweat by having to explain in person how long we know each other. Yet, she went valiantly on the attack, trying to expose me, that only resulted in me using the intel I gathered on her to confirm us knowing each other well.








Nighttime came, and her family asked me to stay for the weekend which I sheepishly accepted, creating more chances to “interrogate” Sylvia. Making sure that the others went to sleep, I sneaked into her room, bringing only my phone and a scarf. As I expected, she wasn't sleeping and almost proceeded to attack me, but I held her off, pushing her back on the bed. Being the same height and 145 lbs, I guessed her weight around 142 lbs and her breasts are slightly bigger, maybe a C cup, I gave her a third Braille note, which stated that our fight should be on equal footing, and that she can't refuse or I'll tell her family she's the other woman of her boyfriend via a timed e-mail that will reach the inbox of her family tomorrow, unless I'm there to stop it.




We both had discarded our pajamas, I closed the curtain, put down the phone after using its light to find the scarves and I gagged Sylvia as she blindfolded me. The challenge was simple, no rules with the same shot at beating the opponent, whom one can't see or hear if a strike happens.




I put that to the immediate test when I pushed her on the bed, and landing on top of her, I sought out her trimmed pubic region for some mauling. Her screams came only faintly through, but I couldn't enjoy the advantage as she retaliated with feeling up my areola and pinching and twisting it. We rolled off of the bed and separated for a few seconds, I could sense that she seeks me out by my natural scent, so I tried to kick her, but she caught my leg and swept the other one, resulting in me landing on the floor with a thud. Not wanting to lose the momentum, she proceeded to pummel me with her fists from close proximity, perhaps she hoped I'd pass out. I'd be lying if I said it didn't hurt like hell, but I knew I had to reverse the situation, so once she grew tired enough to hold off punching me for a few seconds, I planted my legs in a scissor around her waist, grabbed both of her hands, pulled her closer and I bit into the skin on her nose, just strong enough so it hurts, but it doesn't leave a permanent mark.




As I was done with that, she tried to free her hands so we entered into a test of strength that I seemed to win since I still applied my scissors on her. That feeling however proved to be premature as she, like the wild ox she is, started to pull her hands upwards with me in tow and head butted me, which in turn forced me to release my scissor hold. Once free, she viciously kicked in me in the pussy and I curled up in a ball. Taking advantage of my situation, she lifted me up and threw me back on the bed,.As she started to choke me, it was my turn to pinch and twist her nipple. She answered it with pulling my hair and we rolled off of it again, but there was no separation this time.




Whatever we could feel out, twist and pull, we did to maximally hurt the other, so much in fact, that I felt tears streaming down my face, its salt burning my skin. I had to end it any way I could, and I took advantage of the fact that she's gagged, thus unable to bite me, I proceeded to bury her face in my B cups, and I held it there until she lost consciousness.




The next morning her mother confronted me about the loud noises and if I sensed anything, to which I lied that I didn't. After I sat down to the breakfast table, Sylvia came up behind me and hugged me from behind. She told her mother that we decided to watch a movie on her laptop, hence the loud noises and she made very good friends with me. At that moment I realized that she adapted my moves and entered my game, her firm hug reassuring that maybe as soon as tonight we will have our rematch...






Post scriptum : In case there's interest, I'll write a follow-up to this story, within some planned for Derek. While I'm a jack of all trades, master of none type of creator, I did study some human sciences, like sociology, cultural anthropology, psychology to understand fellow human motivation to the point that I strive to transform readers into flies on the wall, doing stories of greater detail, which happen to have female fights in them. I wanted to do this story ever since I started to write 2 decades ago, after I recognized that from the most basic to more detailed, protagonists are still facsimiles of societal images, which rule out impairment for the most part. The moving force for me with this story wasn't creating 2 such girls, rather to deliver a story to those fans, who have to rely on a separate system to process mostly the same content that the majority offers (such as Braille Playboy). It's mainly for those, who wish to seek out something new, with a respectful focus on who the protagonists are, and not simply being a lip service by being what they are, filling a stereotype.


Addition for the readers of this site: the title was partly cut in the anthology book where the story was featured, and in its entirety it's a golf pun and an innuendo. As I don't wish to create a separate paragraph, yes, I'm not an expert web developer, so the chunkiness comes from my lack of knowledge in the field. If you have ideas how to feature it better, I'm open to suggestions. I'm available for commissions on Fiverr (also for regular stories, my nick is the same there as it is here) and I post stories I wish to write for myself on Hostboard and FCF. For some odd reason my third story was only allowed on a separate, my apologies for the inconvenience.



 Please stop by at http://www.freecatfights.com and http://www.rivalsrapture.com


I can be commissioned at http://www.fiverr.com/cflover40 and my work over at Patreon can be supported at https://www.patreon.com/powelltothepeople