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                       Maid to Fight                       
                   -by Catullus Sedecim-                   
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                       R-E-S-P-E-C-T                       
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R-E-S-P-E-C-T
Years ago, she’d been no-one. She’d always been a fighter, sure, and damn good at it, too. She had a knack - The ponies would have called it a ‘Special Talent,’ but they called the things on their asses cutie marks, too, so they had a tendency to make everything sound ridiculous - for fighting. Even as a kid, she’d been able to push people away on the playground at the very least. She could have been the alpha bitch of the schoolyard, with enough motivation...but pushing people around for nothing more than totem-pole status never appealed. Fighting for fun was another matter; that was a test of her skills.
She’d taken that skill, though. Taken it and used it. And she was never a sadist, but she did find something satisfying about breaking bones. Satisfying and useful, it turned out. In the underground arenas, she could make a nice bounty on some opponents by hurting them in special ways. She’d turned into a sort of official hitman. From time to time, she’d be assigned opponents that needed a... Special treatment,to ensure they didn’t come back. And while she didn’t love that, she didn’t hate it. The extra money had been good. Rich ponies liked to see poor gryphons hurt each-other.
But now, finally, it had all come together. She’d made it. She was at the top of the world, and her days of living in a dingy apartment with just a snake for company were long gone. She was a celebrity. She didn’t need to get paid extra. She made millions with each fight, and the world ate it up.
The referee offered her the belt as the announcer began, “The official decision. Your winner, by submission via triangle choke, and still, the reigning, defending, Bantamweight Champion of the WOOOOOOOORLD. Giiiiiiiilda... BLAAAAAACKFEEEAAAAATHEEEER!”
Riiiiiiing
The telephone pulled her out of sleep. Damn. That had been a nice dream, too.
Riiiiiiiiiing
“Yeah, yeah, I got it.” She informed no-one in particular.
Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing
She rolled out of bed and flopped onto the ground in a pile. She’d been up late last night. Slowly, she pulled her four legs under her, and dragged herself to the phone. Hours before, she’d looked like a goddess, bathing in the adulation of the crowd. But the comedown after a night of fighting had taught her long ago that you don’t need to be a drunk to be hungover. She’d never touched cider in her life. And yet after a night of victory in the ring, the cheers and adulation of her admittedly small crowd were still a better high than anyone could have injected.
She slapped the receiver off its hook after a few halfhearted attempts. She might have been the only person in Equestria still to use landlines, but damnit, at least they didn’t get lost in your other pocket when someone needed to get you.
“Hello, you’ve reached the world’s smallest pond. This is the big fish speaking.”
“You’re the Champion at the Club Canterlot Arena.” The voice was low, and probably thought it was smooth. The rich ponies liked to act like that when they called her for favors. They thought it made them sound cool or something. At least she could have fun with it.
“No, I’m Princess Celestia. What’s so important you interrupted my royal beauty sleep?”
“It wasn’t a question.”
“Club Canterlot doesn’t have official champions. Or, in fact, an official fighting group. Or even an unofficial one. Because that would be illegal. And bad. And probably cause puppies to cry or something. Now shoo, before I banish you to the moon.”
“I have a proposition for you.”
“Get in line, this sweet royal flank’s got more suitors than a stripper at a frat party.”
“I don’t appreciate your tone.”
“I don’t appreciate yours, you sound like a character from a half-rate spy flick.”
“Listen, Gil-”
“I’ll listen if you say something worth hearing.”
It took a few seconds. “Very well. Prince Blueblood is planning to enter his favorite servant, a maid named Mary, into the fights.”
“The fights that don’t exist, because they’re illegal?”
“Those ones.” The voice said, “He and his servant are very...close. If something were to happen to her, he would be very distraught. And that would make some ponies very happy.”
“I’d be very sorry if something were to happen to her.”
“I’d be very interested in ensuring something did...”
“Then you’re a very bad pony, and your mama didn’t raise you right.”
“You’ll be fighting her in her first match. Five thousand bits to ensure that she doesn’t walk out of that ring.”
“If I were to take that deal, which I won’t, because I can’t, for the aforementioned legal, moral, and puppy reasons, I’d want half of that before the fight. To ensure you won’t run off with it when I do your dirty work.”
“Before the fight, go to the bathroom to change. The bits will be in your locker when you return.”
“And who will be putting them there?”
“I’m sure you understand why I’d be reluctant to give you an answer.”
“Well, sure. This sounds illegal. Alicorn princess, I could totally have you arrested. Fine. But if you try to screw me...”
“I’d very much like to,” her feathers bristled at the comment, “But I’m fairly certain that were I caught with royalty, it’d be a scandal. I assure you, I won’t screw you. But if you fail to do as I’ve asked...”
“The bits won’t be in my locker. Try anything else, and you’ll be the one not walking out.”
“You don’t know who I am.”
“I’ll figure it out. Got nothing but time over here.”
“So we’re agreed?”
“No. Because what you’re asking me to do is a criminal act that I refuse to be party to. I particularly refuse to be party to it on Sunday, second fight. I’d have refused to be party to it earlier, but I do need to train.”
“I was hoping this would be her debut match. He wants her to enter the fights tomorrow. Which is Tuesday.”
“Then you’ll have to find a way to delay her. I got a royal function to attend to. I’m signing a treaty about... Cake? That sounds right. Yeah. The cake treaty. Gotta go.” She shoved the phone back into its cradle.
“Five thousand bits. That can buy a lot of... Uh...”
She looked around her apartment. Punching bag and speedbag in one corner. Weights on the other side. Snake in a cage in the bathroom. Exercise equipment, bed, companionship... What else did she need?
“Pet food.” She finally decided, “And heat lamps. And... I dunno, maybe a climbing thing. Something like that.”
Whatever. The money was good. Paid her rent, while she waited for a chance to get to the big leagues. And as for the side jobs, well... Hey, if you get extra bits for winning harder than usual, what’s not to like?
She strode over to her bag, and faced it down as she began pounding on it. It helped her think. And she always wanted to make sure she was in the best shape when they gave her money for fights like this. She didn’t enjoy making them suffer, no. But, well... The crowds would cheer her. But at her core, she knew they were only cheering a win. Brutal and fast, or long and drawn out, they were there for bloodsport, and the cheering on of the damage she inflicted. Not her. They didn’t cheer the gryphon, just her claws, and they’d cheer just as hard if she lost. But her opponents... When their wrists shattered, their muscles tore, when they choked and saw she wasn’t going to let up... THEY recognized her. They recognized their superior. Winning was nice, but the ones she took too far, the ones whose bodies she broke, they were the ones who gave her the one thing she wanted from anyone. Respect. It was a feeling she’d kill for.
Had killed for.
She battered the swinging bag relentlessly as she tried to place the voice on the phone. She knew she’d heard it before. She tried to picture the face of the guy paying her. Who would want to pay her to fuck with Blueblood’s head like that? Business rival, probably. Social enemy, maybe. Unbidden, Blueblood’s face jumped into her head as her opponent. Whatever.
Imagining the bag as the wealthy unicorn, she slammed her hands into the bag. “You rich dicks are all the same,” she growled. Her claws slammed into his snow-white face, leaving ugly red stripes on his coat. Her apartment morphed into the palace courtyard, and she was battering him in front of hundreds of people who’d come out just for the purpose of seeing her kick the ass of the biggest stuck-up jackass in Equestria.
“You don’t give a fuck about the fight. And you don’t give a fuck about me, either. I’m just some tool to you, aren’t I? A pawn in your little games.” A left hook, and the white stallion stumbled before her. She followed it up by slamming her knee into his chest. Nice thing about being a gryphon. You can fight on two legs if you want. Ponies get confused. He grunted as she impacted the bone. A low exhale of breath. And the people were cheering, yes, they were cheering. For her. She felt a moist heat in her loins at the sound..
“Some jackass wants your maid hurt. And I’m gonna hurt her!” She slammed her head into his chin, making him groan again. “You’re the majority owner of Equestrian Fighting Championship and you still watch these underground fights. Is it ‘cause I like to fuck my opponents? You just get off on us, don’t ya? Fight naked, more fun, but you-” She was dripping sweat onto the wood floor, now... And dripping from between her legs, as well, Patting on the wood of her apa-No, the canvas of the ring. “You could have elevated me, if you gave a shit about the real deal of fighting. I could push around any of your EFC champs, if you gave me a chance!”
She bit into his neck, the illusion not damaged by the unusual leathery texture. He moaned, and she looked up at his face. Bruising blue from her strikes. Now he was seeing that she was dangerous. She slid up and whispered in his ear, now grinding her own cunt on the leather of the ba-on his chest, on the thick corded muscles... He wanted to pull away, but she wouldn’t let him. “But you didn’t. And now, I’m going to kick the ass of your little maid... I’ll leave her a broken ex-gryphoness...and do the same damn thing to you...” She licked his rough, coarse cheek, and ground herself faster on his body at the fear she saw in his eyes. “Now you see who I am.Now you respect me...”
She ground up and down, up and down. The now-moist body teasing her clit. “Now...” She panted, feeling her orgasm growing on her. “Now you like me. Now you respect me. But it’s too late!” She pulled back from him, and twitched her lioness tail into her cunt.
“Ahh...” She groaned as the tufted tail wriggled inside her. Teasing herself, those inner muscles, those outer lips. Teasing herself closer and closer to orgasm. Her strikes got wilder, now. Less scientific, but landing harder on the poor stallion, who barely stood on his four feet, looking on her with abject fear.. With RESPECT YES! Yes he fucking RESPECTED her, they ALL did!
She was being cheered! Heavy shots pounded on her. Her tail rolled into a spiral inside her. Yes. Yes! She pounded her fists on him, and he started swaying dangerously. Closer to her, farther, closer, farther, he was going to go down! She drew her tail back, and shoved it all the way into her cunt.
Her pussy fluttered, juices fell on the ground, and she came! As she did, she struck out with one final shot at the stallion, to send him down! As her fist slammed him with the knockout blow, her cunt fluttered and she groaned in utter pleasure as the lust overtook her. Her juices splashed on the ground. The impact was heavier than she’d ever hit. His neck snapped to the side, eyes rolled back, bone crunched as his cheek shattered, and he fell heavily below her, below her legs, her juices splashing on his muzzle.
A crash and the sound of falling metal fell brought her out of her reverie. Back to her little apartment above a nightclub that very definitely didn’t host fights. The chain for the bag fell on the ground next to it, with a bit of plaster still attached. She’d managed to knock it clean out of its holding, hard enough to take the ceiling with it.
She sunk to her haunches, extracted her tail from her pussy, flicking the juices on the ground. Her breathing was heavy. Damn. Hit harder than she thought.
Knock Knock
“G? G, you okay?” It was the club’s owner.
“Yeah. Yeah, yeah, sorry. Just... Something fell over. Don’t worry.”
“Alright.”
She grinned.
“Boxing bags! That’s what you can get with five thousand bits.” She sighed satisfactorily, “A whole lot of boxing bags.”
Three days ago, in Canterlot Castle:
Her Master. Her lover. He looked magnificent as he stared out the window, but he always did. She was honored just to be in his presence. And as his personal servant, she was the luckiest gryphoness alive.
“Mary?” he said quietly.
“Yes, Master Blueblood?”
He sighed a heavy, tired sigh. Even that sent a tingle down her spine. He turned to her, and looked into her eyes with his heavy, sad ones. Sometimes she wondered if she was the only one in Equestria who got to see him like this, to see Blueblood without the Prince attached. He confided in her. He dropped the act of the stuck-up noble, the one who would go out of his way to offend even the elements of harmony to keep up the part. Only she knew why he did it. Only she knew that it was all an act. Knew that he hoped maybe if he kept getting away with things, someone would call it what it was. Someone would try to get rid of the nobility. Only she knew that he’d spent years throwing himself on swords to try to become a symbol worth revolting for.
Only she knew how much it hurt him that it didn’t.
“Please, Mary... Don’t.”
“Yes Master Blueblood.”
He sighed, “I’m not going to get you to stop calling me that, am I?”
She blushed at his question. “I-I’m sorry, Master Blueblood... But I... I don’t think you will.”
“I don’t want to be a master... A prince... I want the whole damn thing gotten rid of. In private you don’t have to. You can treat me like the world isn’t so messed up that having a great aunt with wings and a horn means I can get away with murder.”
Her eyes still downcast, refusing to meet his, she slowly inched closer to him, “Master...” She blushed, “Master... It’s what I want. It’s what I chose for myself. I... I like to serve.” She almost squeaked, “I had... a lot... before... I became a palace maid because... Because it’s what I want. And... Even if your, um,” she paused, “Even if your society that you want becomes what happens, I... I would still want to call you Master.”
She felt his hoof stroke into the back of her neck. His breath came hot against her cheek. “Thank you.”
She shivered and hazarded a look at him again, smiling as much as her beak would let her. He walked away from her, back to the window. “Why did you leave Gryphonia?”
She paused. That question was new. She tried to formulate an answer. How to explain the castes and the rules... It was far more than Equestrians would be familiar with.
“I...” She started, and stopped, then started again, “I was born into the caste of warriors, my lord. And I was...” she thought back to her past, to times spent in the sparring yard, to glowing reports from superiors and praise from her peers. Thought back to why she left... “I was good at it, but...”
“Didn’t like it?”
“No!” She answered, too quickly, and mentally backtracked, “N-no my lord. No, I... I did... Very much enjoy it, but...” Her cheeks burned red again. They always did in his presence.
“But...” She swallowed, “But I found... as I grew older that I desired to serve. I was very good at fighting. I was told I could be a great warrior. I would have liked that. But as much joy as it brought me, I...” She swallowed, “I wanted to serve as well. I told the elders about this and they told me I would need to choose to be a warrior, or a servant.”
“And?”
“And...” She gestured at her black and white uniform, “And I chose. And wouldn’t change that choice. No matter what I was offered, sir, I am proud to be your personal servant.”
She heard the hum again, the sound of the gears in his brain turning, “Have you ever thought of fighting in Equestria?”
She looked to the ground, not answering his question. In truth, she had. Sometimes she wished she could go back to fighting. But not at the cost of losing him.
“You do know I have a large stake in a fighting company.”
“I...” She sighed, “I know, Master.”
“Then why haven’t you asked?”
Another squeak. It was an uncomfortable question, even if it seemed so obvious. She didn’t want to impose on him. But beyond that, she didn’t want to get a pass without work. If she was in an Equestrian fighting group, and as Prince Blueblood’s personal maid, and it was his company... She wouldn’t have earned it. She wanted to serve him. She didn’t want people thinking he had done her favors. And this would have been a favor.
“I...don’t want...to take advantage of my position.”
“Very noble.”He laughed, “If more people said that, I might not care about the titles so much.”
She laughed a little as well, “Yes, Master.”
“What if your fight was not seen as excessive nepotism?”
“Master, I...” She paused, “I would...rather spend time doing your bidding...than fight. I am happier at your side watching, sir. No matter how much pleasure I gain from fighting, sir, I gain far more from standing by your side. ...Feeding you or massaging you while you watch...”
“And if I asked you to go in the ring?”
“I... I would. Without question, sir. If you asked me to fight, I would fight anypony, sir... I would fight the Princesses themselves if you asked me. I would leap into an open flame if it would please you, sir.”
“That...won’t be necessary. The fire or the princesses.”
Her back tingled with the magic as he massaged her from afar. Without looking at him, she murmured a soft ‘Thank you, sir.’
“But I would like to see you fight.”
“Y-yes sir.”
“To win”
“Yes sir.”
=========================================================
Look, this wasn’t the EFC. This was an underground fighting pit in the back of a nightclub. It was less a prestigious place for physical warfare, and more a place horny rich ponies could jack off watching the sexy ladies (and stallions) wrestle. Some people wore fighting clothes. Most just went naked. It’s what she did. And they all loved to see her. She even liked to oil herself up, JUST enough that the underground lights glistened off her smooth feline coat. It wasn’t respect, but it was attention of its own sort. So she took what she could. She really wasn’t in a position to be picky about what her opponents wore.
But this opponent, well, this one was a bit more unusual than most, she had to admit. Not naked or dressed like a fighter, but it felt like the personal maid to Prince Blueblood had decided not to change out of her uniform. Desire to please her master, lack of alternate outfit, or maybe she just thought it’d be hot.
“Well, here you are, G. Wrestling a rich pony’s fucktoy in fetish gear. Really nailed the life choices there.” She smirked, keeping her eyes on her opponent, who couldn’t even meet her eye. Really, girl needed to think about this for a couple seconds. How the hell are you going to fight someone if you can’t see them?
The club’s announcer for the club gave a cursory introduction. “Fillies and Gentlecolts, tonight, for your viewing pleasure, we present to you, a battle between reigning champion Gilda Blackfeather, and Prince Blueblood’s personal servant, Mary Goldtalon.”
When the bell rang, her opponent at least bothered to lift her eyes. That was a bonus, at the very least. She stood taller, a little stronger, staring her down. There was a hint of the grace that a real fighter needed to move with. So, maybe her opponent knew a thing about fighting after all. Maybe it wouldn’t be a complete waste of her time.
Well, it wouldn’t have been a complete waste, anyway. She began circling, and the maid did too, albeit hesitantly, as if he wasn’t completely sure about this. Well, she’d better get sure, quickly, as their circles drew closer and closer to each-other. Patience would be key.
When they were in close enough, she slashed at her a couple times with her claws, eeling out the range. Two of her slashes at her opponent’s cheek struck true, tearing into the flesh, staining the white eagle cheeks with blood. Heh. That was nice. Good to see a quick result. Another slash, this time her opponent had the presence of mind to slip backwards, which was just what she wanted. With her head pulling back, Gilda leaped at the maid.
Clearly, her opponent hadn’t been expecting the bundle of muscle, and squawked loudly at the fur and feathers that slammed into her. They hit hard, crashing and rolling on the ground. But she was the one who’d launched the attack, so she knew what was coming. She was able to stop the rolling with herself on top, the maid below her. Immediately, she dove in and chewed on the maid’s neck. Her beak dug into the gryphoness’s feathers, until she found the flesh hidden below. The screech of her opponent was satisfying, but obviously, it wouldn’t be enough. She began clawing, slashing at the soft underbelly of her opponent, tearing up the silky uniform.
Blood seeped into her mouth, salty and coppery. She could probably end this now, but who’d care? She would have proven little to them, to anyone other than herself. She’d get the money, but that was, at its core, irrelevant. Her goal was to get the respect of her opponents and the crowd, not to tear their throat out. She nuzzled into the neck of the maid, until her beak found the vein that carried the blood to her brain. She’d kill her opponent right now if she tore it. She looked up, relishing the fear in her opponent’s eyes, to know she COULD have ended this, but chose not to... Then slipped away, her beak pulling from her neck, looking in her eyes.
“This is a fighting arena... Not your master’s sitting room, bitch.” She growled. Suddenly, impact.Pain blossomed between her legs, claws digging into the flesh of her pussy. The maid may have been weaker, but that didn’t mean she was stupid. The rear claws scratched up Gilda, and she yelped, backing off.
Blood dripped onto the mat, her pussy clawed up. She had enough experience fighting to keep the pain out of her mind, except for the shock of the blow. But it still hurt her agile lioness cunt to be so easily torn into. She would have to punish her opponent for doing this to her. She had barely set herself when she saw the maid charging at her, just like she had. Rather than try to take her, she flopped on her back, all four legs in the air. The other gryphoness’s momentum kept her going, soft belly landing on her claws. Gilda made a point to dig her claws into her opponent’s cunt as she lifted, relishing the yelp of pain as she propelled her opponent over her head.
Gilda rolled to her front to see what she’d done, just in time to see the maid crash into the corner post with a thud and a yelp, falling on her neck. This was going to be a rare chance. She leaped off her hind legs, slamming herself into the servile gryphoness’ upside-down body.
Her cunt, moistened by blood and her own sexual juices, rubbed against the soft cotton of her rival’s clothes. She bit down on her right leg, her beak tearing through the cloth of her stockingsto the thick meat of her thigh beneath. The sound of her opponent’s screams as she began to tear at the muscle only aroused her more, staining the torn black cloth with her juices. She pulled back, yanking flesh from her thigh. The singular cry agony grew louder as she ripped the muscle, transformed with the vibrato of tormented sobs into an aria of pain. Blood staining her beak as she dove back in, tearing at the muscle once more, her foe thrashing.
Her beak was too buried in feline thigh meat to see what was coming. As she pulled back once more, the other clawed foot came in at her. Her back claws scratched Gilda’s cheek, her face, raking her eye. She cried out at that, blood staining her cheek, reeling backwards. The thrashing left leg caught her under the chin and pushed. She fell hard to her back and the other gryphoness slumped out of the corner onto all-fours, no longer held in that awkward position.
Gilda rolled onto all fours again. Blood dripped into her left eye. She tried to look behind her, unable to see beyond her own body from here, even with her head craned to let her good right eye do the work. She saw the other gryphoness slowly rolling, leg bleeding, bits of flesh littering the ground and staining the mat.The soft cloth, and tawny underbody of her opponent shone a brilliant red.
She had a distinct blind spot, and she knew it. She couldn’t let her opponent know. She pulled herself forward a few more steps, keeping her good eye on the maid until she started to move. Finally, she did, crawling towards Gilda, leaving a bloody trail behind her. Gilda had to hope she hadn’t been seen looking in such an awkward manner, and turned forward, burying her head in her claws once more, pretending her injury affected her more than it had. She would have to time it just right, for she’d only get the one shot at a powerful backwards kick. It would all be for nothing if her opponent changed her approach. Waiting until she was sure that the maid was as close as she’d get, she bucked back, pony style. Her avian forelegs propelled her backwards as her feline hind-legs lashed out.
She connected, hard. She felt the maid’s skull recoil from her blow, the sensation coming in through her footpads. She turned, and saw her kick was more effective than even she’d hoped. Her opponent tumbled out of the ring, disappearing over the edge like a boat falling from a cliff.
She gave chase, rushing to the ropes to see where the maid had fallen. She lay awkwardly on her back. Gilda could tell she was stunned, neck and soft underbelly exposed. Before her opponent could react, she leaped over the ropes, using her wings to propel her down harder onto her foe’s form.
Her avian claw sunk first into the protective mane of feathers, and then into the other gryphoness’s neck itself. She brought her other one around, placing both together, and leaned her full weight on her opponent’s neck. The other gryphoness gagged and choked, the flush of trapped blood and deprived air turning her face a light purple already. A cruel grin came across Gilda’s face.
“Gotcha,” she said, leaning forward, “And now, I’m not letting up.”
She could see that the maid knew she was beat. She knew who the better fighter was. The crowd roared their approval as Gilda leaned in, crushing her windpipe. Just the knowledge that the other gryphoness saw her power drove Gilda to swing the tip of her lioness tail back between her legs, teasing herself once more with that tuft, rubbing across her bleeding lips.
“You’re nothing. You’re powerless against me,” she taunted “I won’t let you give up. You don’t deserve it.”
Her muscles bulged as she pushed in harder. Claws still outstretched and wrapped around her neck, she settled her haunches on her opponent’s leg. She began grinding herself on her thigh, covering her already bleeding cunt with the blood of her foe’s exposed muscle. Even torn, the muscles still present were still hard, and warm, and Gilda’s juices began to seep into the exposed flesh.
“I’m not going to let you walk out. I’m not going to let you walk again. I’m not going to let you breathe again.”
Sinking her claws in tighter, she saw the fear in her foe’s eyes. Her dripping pussy ground harder on the exposed flesh of the thigh, no skin meaning nothing to dampen the internal heat. The other gryphoness gasped at nothing, tears beginning to form in her eyes. She saw how powerful Gilda was now, everyone did. Her pussy was streaming as much as the open wound was, dripping on her thigh.
“I’m better. I’m stronger. I’m hotter and tougher. I’m the greatest fighter alive and you never stood a chance. Now you’re going to die in the arena against me!” She cried out triumphantly, grinding faster, humping the muscle now. She felt avian claws grasp at her, weakly, but there was no way that they could throw her off. Not when so deprived of the oxygen needed to fuel her admittedly powerful muscles. Impressive muscles. Impressively hot to fuck. There was little left in the other gryphoness, even herdesparation couldn’t provide enough strength to push her off. Gilda’s eyes rolled back, she was so close to an orgasm she could taste it.
“I’m going to kill you. And it’s not even about you. It’s about your Master. He’ll be so torn up over losing you, someone else is gonna swoop in and take his stuff. You’re not even the enemy, just a pawn in the game, and you’re be ta-AHHH!HHH!”
Somehow, the other gryphoness had been able to arch her neck forward, and now that vicious beak was biting into Gilda’s forearm. She was unprotected by the full muscular force of her arm, just minimal gripping muscles and hard bone. The gryphoness gave a confident smile around the bony forearm, and twisted her neck, and Gilda’s bones cracked. She cried out in pain.
She beat her wings, pulling herself off her opponent, the air battering her for good measure. She didn’t know where this second wind was coming from. But she’d need to regroup. She turned back towards the ring.
As she floated towards the top ropes to get back in, something hit her with the force of a rampaging manticore. She was tossed from the impact into the hard steel of the ringpost, and the bones of her wings gave against the metal with a sickening crunch. She flopped on the ground on her front, looking up at her opponent.
Despite the limp leg, torn clothes, and heavy breathing as she sucked in air, the other gryphoness couldn’t have looked more like a goddess if she’d had robes and a choir. Gilda began to crawl towards the far barricade, and in a second, the force hit her once again. The maid’s arms wrapped around her neck, and pulled her head back to her chest. Her opponent was on her back, and now Gilda was the one struggling to breathe.
They’d evolved their neck feathers as protection against being choked or strangled, but that was against wild predators acting on instinct. Another gryphon with all the necessary knowledge of fighting wouldn’t be bothered for a instant. Feathers were useful, but they did nothing against pure muscle power. Lioness legs wrapped around Gilda’s neck, and the other gryphon began grinding her bare cunt on her back.
“My life is for my Master!” She croaked, squeezing tighter. The pressure around her skull increased as the blood was trapped, her neck crushed too tight. Her mouth gasped for air, but there was none to be found, “If he wants me to fight, I fight. If I lose that fight, I lose, and if the punishment for that is death, then I die in the name of his enjoyment, his desire to see me battle. My life means nothing to me, but if its loss is a plan to harm him, I cannot permit it!”
The cords of muscle in her arm squeezed tighter, every curve and contour perfectly felt even through thick neck feathers. Gilda’s claws scrabbled weakly, getting weaker by the second as her foe forbade her breath.
The other gryphoness rolled on her back, taking Gilda with her, and the powerful feline legs swung together. Even the bloody muscle barely seemed to stop the prison of power from locking in around Gilda’s body, and long tail coming up to her bloodstained cunt. She was trapped, her neck being crushed. She felt the black looming around her, her opponent’s legs crushing her midsection, adding another form of agony as her muscles gave even against weakened thighs. Her broken wing was crushed against her back by a cloth-covered chest. Gilda would have screamed if she could get enough air to do so, as it was, she just squirmed, saliva dripping from her mouth, and still dripping from her pussy as she was conquered.
“I’m sorry to have to hurt you like this... But I cannot let the harm come to my Master!” the gryphoness told her without a hint of taunt or sarcasm in her apology, as if she did truly regret harming Gilda like this, “If...you are part of a plan to hurt him, I must end this plan!”
The tail rapidly slammed her pussy. Long ago, Gilda remembered being told how arousing your opponent made them expend their breath faster. It was working, Gilda’s body spasmed as her juices began flushing out the blood they’d picked up from thighfucking the maid. She tried to let out an aroused groan, her body bucking and spasming, as an orgasm neared and the black encroached on her vision.
“I know that it is humiliating to be aroused and hurt at once... I deeply regret being forced to do this to you. Please take comfort in the fact that this is the fastest way to finish this!”
At that, the tail turned corkscrew and slammed into her pussy. Gilda’s back arched as much as he legs would allow her to, as she gushed from her cunt. Fireworks flashed behind her eyes as her orgasm overtook her, the world darkened of all except the blasts of pleasure. She couldn’t breathe, see, or think, but still she came, her pussy flooding the mat with feminine juices. She shook and spasmed, and the legs of her foe held her tight and kept her thrashing form from escaping. Each buck sent firey tendrils of pain into her neck as she slammed her own wing into the rock of the maid’s toned body. She was a squirming, choking, gasping, cumming mess of a once-proud fighter, until her orgasm died down and her body went limp. Seconds later, the black overtook her.  
Her wings were taped to her back, her claw now resting on a cast. She’d had bad injuries before, so she didn’t mind those...but she hated being beaten. At anything. Especially like that, though. To some stuck-up noblepony’s personal servant. At least most of her opponents spent their time fighting, not just cleaning up after idiots too lazy to bother taking care of their own problems.
She got there, to find someone else already in the locker room. She expected that, she’d expected that whoever had been so eager to see her win would be by to complain about her loss. What she hadn’t expected was WHO was there. It was Blueblood.
“The hell are you here for?” She asked, without meeting his eye. She brushed past him, but kept her eyes out. If he wanted some sort of revenge or...
“Well, I was going to pay you the rest of your fee.”
THAT surprised her. She turned back. “What?”
“Your fee. I believe the deal was that I’d pay you for her not walking out.”
“And she-”
“Did not walk out. Her leg was injured, so I carried her. You held up your end of the bargain, I’m holding up mine.”
“But I lost...”
“Yes, well, I didn’t pay you to win.”
“But I lost.”
“Which is most fortunate, really, I do care for her. It was a close thing there, too. You fought hard.”
She turned back to look him in the eye now, “I fought and lost! What aren’t you getting about that?”
“I’m getting it, I’m just not sure how it ties to our deal.”
“You said-”
“I said Blueblood would be very unhappy if she got hurt. Which, I assure you, would be true.”
“You said you were interested in ensuring something happened to her.”
“I was. I wasn’t interested in it happening, I was interested in paying you to make it happen.”
She tilted her head, “Why would you want something to happen?”
“I told you. I didn’t. I wanted to pay YOU to make it happen.”
“Why?”
He laughed, and sat back on his haunches, “Quite simple. I wanted to pay you to make it happen, because I trusted your abilities. Do you know what my cutie mark is?”
“It’s a compass rose.”
“Do you know why?”
“I don’t know, you’re too dumb to find your ass without a map?”
He laughed, shook his head, “No. Though good guess. It’s because I’m very good at finding a way to get things where I want them to be. To figure out where they’re going. Except rather than maps, my special talent is with ponies. And, well, related creatures.”
“We’re no-”
“On a philosophical level, of course. I know what people want. Even if they think they hide it, even if they don’t know themselves. And I can use that to get them to do what I want. A useful skill, but in this case, I was using it for good. I knew my maid wanted to fight. But I also knew she was afraid that I wouldn’t want a warrior for a servant. She’s utterly devoted to me, and I’m sure she was telling the truth when she said she’d die if I ordered it. So, she needed a motivation, to bring out that warrior side, and see that I still cared for her despite it.”
“So I was...”
“You were contacted, because I knew you would tell her what you were doing. No matter how much she wanted to, she wouldn’t reach her full potential for herself. She would for me. I knew you would tell her what you were doing, and why. You always do. So, she fought for me.”
The rage rose through her body as he talked. “You... USED me?!”
“If you want to put it like that. But don’t misunderstand. I have great respect for you and your fighting skills. Despite my desire to see her fight, I wanted to watch you more closely as well. And I liked what I saw. I’ve added a bonus to your pay. A trip to the EFC training facilities in Detrot. I saw great things from you.”
“But... I lost.”
“Yes. That’s one way of looking at it. But the way I look at it, it took someone who was trained since birth, fighting for the only thing she cared about more than her life, and she STILL needed to wait for you to get distracted by masturbating to win. If you ask me, Gilda, that’s quite a recommendation. I’ll expect to see you on Sunday.”
He turned and left. She sank against the locker. She’d been played. He hadn’t expected her to win. She’d been part of his game. She felt lower than when she walked in. It was one thing to lose, another entirely to lose because you were part of someone else’s plan. Realize they hadn’t expected you to win in the first place. He was a manipulative prick.
On the other hand, he’d given her a chance. A ticket to the training facilities. To the biggest fighting company in Equestria. A ticket to titles, crowds, arenas, endorsements.
A ticket to respect.
Maybe he wasn’t that bad after all.
...Still a bastard, though.
Author's Note
For the version with all the italics and such, check out https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Ai5i9ml7MwGlMgxfv9C8ult_5DDmbzzuOn4rg0FnmdI/edit?usp=sharing there.