Commision - Russia vs. USA

1980 — Earth, Russia. The world has been at peace for centuries. Nations compete in sports and sex to satisfy their disagreements and whims; rivalries are resolved through competition.

And not since the days of Athens and Sparta, Rome and Carthage, had there been a rivalry as great as that between Russia and the U.S.

So great, in fact, that the two nations avoided competing against each other, to prevent there from being a true winner and a true loser.

It was the 1980s, and Sex Boxing was still divided into women’s and men’s leagues.

It was the 1980s, and Russia dominated the sport, both for men and mainly, for women.

It was the 1980s, and one woman was the talk of the world.

The arena was already shaking when Elvira Volkov stepped beneath the lights.

Thousands of spectators filled the stands, their voices merging into one enormous roar. Russian flags hung from the upper balconies, while the enormous screens above the ring displayed the same words in several languages:

ELVIRA VOLKOV — UNDEFEATED

Elvira stopped at the center of the ring and slowly raised both fists. Her foot sinking on her opponent face, chest or crotch, whatever looked more dominant in that moment.

She enjoyed this part.

The anticipation. The cameras. The knowledge that somewhere beyond the arena, millions of people were and had been watching and waiting to see whether anyone could finally bring her down - and yet, nobody had.

Not in forty-six professional bouts. Not in more then four years.

Her opponents had tried speed. They had tried power. Some had attempted to drag her into exhausting exchanges, while others had spent entire rounds retreating. some even dared to overcome her sexually and with their body. It had never mattered. Eventually, Elvira always found a way through them.

And afterward, she always had something to say.

Tonight was no different. A reporter approached her during the post-fight interview.

"Elvira, you've defeated every major challenger all over the world. They came in here and they all been defeated. Is there anyone left who can compete with you?"

Elvira burst out laughing. Her Russian accent was thick, and her face was lightly beaded with sweat after her last match. “Compete with me?”

The crowd reacted immediately. The tension in the arena had been building even before the match began. She had defeated all the strongest national champions from the major countries. All countries except one. The fans were expecting something.

She leaned toward the microphone.

"People keep asking me that as though there is some mystery left to solve. I am the best fighter in the world. If someone disagrees, they know where to find me."

The reporter smiled nervously.

"Anyone?"

"Anyone."

The clip went viral before the night was over. Everyone knew which country she was calling out. Everyone journal wrote about it. "Russian champ calls out Americans'" or "Elvira Volkov undefeated, are Russian Boxers the best in the world?"

Three days later, Elvira was sitting in her training camp when her coach walked through the door carrying a copy of the latest issue of a newspaper.

"You have another challenger."

Elvira barely looked up from wrapping her hands.

"Another one so soon?"

"Her name is Karen Knox."

That got her attention because it sounded American. And she was.

Twenty-one years old. Six professional victories. No amateur or professional defeats. Fast hands, exceptional footwork, and a reputation for making experienced fighters look slow.

Elvira snorted.

"Six fights? Are you joking?"

"Six wins. She is serious."

"She is not a champ. Are they too scared to send their best?"

Her coach placed the newspaper on the bench. A post match interview was on the first page, with a black and white photo of a young, strong-looking girl at the center.

"She's calling you out publicly."

Elvira read only a bit of the interview, but then curiosity strikes her and she finally picked the paper up and read more.

"I can show you the interview on TV. I recorded it." Elvira agreed and followed her coach.

On the screen was a recording from an American sports program. At the end of the interview, the camera panned back to the studio, where a girl with long blonde hair and light blue eyes was having an hard time sitting in a small chair between the two hosts of the show, with her muscly frame tight fitting inside her sundress, stretched out at the chest by her huge titties. She was calm and composed under the bright studio lights while the host read Elvira's recent challenge back to the girl, asking her why she said she was ready to take her on after her recent match.

"I might have only a few match, but I've seen Elvira's. She says she is the best in the world...."

The audience was silent. Everyone was kinda nervous on what the girl might say.

"...And maybe she is." She paused.

"But she never faced an american, born in the U.S. If she's really the best in the world, there is only a way to find it out. So yes, I'm ready to knock some sense of reality back into that Russian cow."

Elvira watched the clip twice. The first time, she was amused. The second time, she stopped smiling. Something growing inside her.

There was something about Knox's expression that bothered her, that made her angry.

Not arrogance. Not fearlessness. Certainty.

As though Knox had already imagined the fight from beginning to end. As though she knew something Elvira didn't. And she was certain of her victory, of Elvira first, humiliating, defeat.

Elvira shutted down the tv and stood up, trying to hide her anger.

"Tell them I accept. I'm gonna fight this Karen Knox."

Her coach frowned. "You haven't even watched her fight. I have recordings, She is very-"

"I don't need to." Elvira interrupted her coach. She didn't need any help.

"She is not like your last opponents."

Elvira exchanged a fierce glance with her trainer, clenching her fists tightly as a sign of determination and pent-up anger.

There was nothing the coach could say to change her mind. She was going to fight, and she was going to do it her way. All he could do was support her as best he could.

Across the ocean, Karen Knox received the news the day after, while finishing her evening training session.

At that moment, she was tearing a guy apart during a sparring session, hitting him with fast, precise blows and adding a touch of her own style to the mix, giving him light touches on his crotch or very close clinches where she could tease him with her legs. Even in sparring, the guy couldn’t resist her and was on the verge of an orgasm, his erect cock tenting his shorts, while Karen toyed with him like a cruel predator with its prey.

"Volkov accepted."

Karen was about to deliver the finishing blow to the boy, but instead she stopped, demonstrating superhuman control over her own strength and muscles. She walked over to her coach, taking off her gloves. A broad smile—concealing a thousand conflicting emotions—slowly spread across her face.

"Good." She said in a voice trembling with tension, anxiety, and a strange sense of satisfaction.

"That's all you have to say?" Her mom, her coach, looked way more worried then her.

Karen looked toward the television mounted on the gym wall. Elvira was there again, boasting to reporters and smiling for the cameras, reminding everyone how great she was.

Karen watched silently.

Then she said: "No. That's not all."

She picked up her towel and walked toward the showers, signaling to the guy she'd been sparring with to follow her, giving his erect cock a glance and winking at him suggestively.

"I've got a lot more to say, but I'll say it in the ring."

Two weeks later, the world would be watching. Karen took a plan for Moscow with a plan in her mind.

No one knew what to expect from this fight. Not even Elvira, who had chosen not to watch her opponent’s past bouts.

The whole world would be watching on TV, and everyone—some more than others—was secretly hoping for a miraculous upset and to see, after many years of dominance, Elvira finally losing.