Mixed boxing, 230 pictures 1920x1080 (Full HD), partially CFNM, no blood.

Following Katy’s defeat of Blue Justice (Gallery 753), he went to report to his masters at the Ministry of Purification. They were most displeased. Katy, he was told, was just the sort of person the city could do without. She was a bad girl. As soon as she was 18, she got a job as an exotic dancer, which the Ministry wanted to ban. When a fight broke out at the club, instead of retreating backstage with the rest of the girls, she joined in. She was known to enjoy drinking (another thing the Ministry wanted to ban), and had a notorious record of seducing powerful men to get some advantage, the most infamous example being the mayor, who had to resign.

“So,” the Grand Master instructed him, “You must seek her out, fight her again, and beat her this time. Morality must prevail against voluptuous licentiousness. Remind me,” he turned to a colleague, “where are those pictures of her in the exotic dancing costume again? Ah yes, thank you … disgusting! So go you, Blue Justice, and know that you will be fighting with the strength of morality behind you!”

It was about a week after this that he caught up with Katy. She was wearing the same sexy purple leotard that he remembered, complete with the stiletto-heeled boots. He followed her stealthily, catching his breath at the way her figure swayed slightly as she walked. He could attack her now, from behind, but that would be dishonourable and a very un-Blue Justice thing to do. Instead he must get her attention:

“Ahem,” was all he could think of, but it worked, and made her turn round.

“Oh, hiya!” Katy smiled in recognition. “Is this kiss and make up time? I’m all for it if you are!”

“No. My masters have told me I must fight you again, and beat you this time, for the sake of all clean-living people. They tell me you are a bad girl.”

“’Bad girl’ indeed, what cheek! There’s nothing girlish about my figure – look at it. Look at my tits. They’re womanly, not girlish.”

“My masters wouldn’t want me looking at those,” Blue stammered, scarlet in the face under his mask.

“More cheek. Men PAY to look at them! Very well, if we must fight again, what’s your name?”

“Blue Justice.”

“You, what?” Katy guffawed with laughter. “You can’t be called that! Do your masters call you ‘BJ’?”

“Sometimes, if I am on a clandestine mission, I have been known as ‘Agent BJ’, yes.”

Katy laughed outright for some moments, then managed to tell him:

“Well, Mister Lucky Initials, once I have beaten you up, I would give you a BJ, or blowjob, as a consolation. But the ground’s wet and I don’t fancy kneeling on it, so it’ll be a handjob instead. You know what those two things are, I hope?”

“They sound like the sort of depraved sexual activity that my masters would disapprove of.”

“Well your masters sound like a right load of boring old bastards! Either that, or they’re randy perverts. I know the type well. We get him at the club sometimes, this sort of man. In public he’ll say our club must be closed down, in the name of public morality (and because he knows it will please his wife). Then you see him in a dark corner, with his collar turned up, thinking he won’t be recognised. Once he’s had a few drinks, he’s the quickest to offer you more money to take all your clothes off in private.”

“This is an outrage!” Blue shouted, raising his fists, “I will avenge this insult to my masters! I will – ow!”

Katy’s left fist smacked into his mouth. “You’ll what?” she challenged him.

“I’ll – ooph!”

Her right fist burrowed into his stomach. “I don’t think you will,” she asserted, hooking her left fist into his side.

Blue retreated a step. How could this be happening? He obtained his position at the ministry because of his physical prowess. He had fought and beaten the toughest male opponents to get that job. He had a cold shower every day, and trained hard in the gym, regularly sparring with the most formidable of partners. Yet this sugary female, with the glamorous leotard, and sparkly, high-heeled boots, had hurt him; and hurt him quite badly.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Katy told him, taking a step towards him, and getting him nastily in the eye with her right fist, “’How is she able to fight like that?’ Simple. I’ve always fought. I enjoy it, and I especially enjoy beating a man – like this!” she finished, landing a sharp left on his nose.

Blue’s hands went up to his watering eyes. He was an open target, so Katy moved in close and rammed her knee up hard into his groin. He yelled in pain, and wailed that this was “cheating”. But Katy was on a roll. With her knee still in place, grinding into his balls, she brought her left fist into play. It was a rising punch, which slapped mercilessly into his already-battered mouth and nose. Her knee and fist overwhelmed him, and he dropped down to the cold, wet ground, in psychological despair as much as physical defeat.

Katy looked down at him, gloating, fists clenched in anticipation of more fun. “Are you all right down there, Blue codpiece?” she crowed.

“Fucking bitch,” he muttered.

“Dear me,” she admonished him, mockingly, “That’s not a very ‘clean-living’ thing to say. I don’t think your masters would like that!”

“Fuck off!” he replied, struggling to get up. She had slowed him down, she knew from experience. All she had to do was wait and pick her targets.

Blue got painfully to his feet, raised his fists - and she got him square on the chin, in a ferocious left cross. Somehow he stayed upright, perhaps too stunned even to fall. She banged a right hook into his jaw, and he went reeling to his right, almost going over. So she “steadied” him with a left hook, and he went in the opposite direction.

Katy had him swaying. He was the epitome of the term “punch drunk”. One more should do it, she thought. She took a step back to give herself room; he went a step forward, as she had anticipated. Then she let him have it: it was a full-on right cross, fired at his chin with laser-like accuracy and explosive effect. He staggered haphazardly, then put his hand out to her.

“Please, no more,” he told her through damaged lips. “You win.”

“Ok then,” she agreed. “I’m not spiteful, and I’ll accept that. Now, about that promise of mine …” – she reached across and lightly brushed her fingers against his speedo – “come here, Agent BJ!” she concluded, moving her fingertips slowly, wickedly, into the waistband of his speedo.

“What are you doing?” he shouted in alarm, as she suddenly whipped it off him. “My masters wouldn’t like … oh, my WORD! Oh, such heavenly sensations! It’s magical – YOU’RE magical! Is this what women do to men?”

“This, and other things.”

“Why does it feel so nice? It’s better than fighting!”

“Well you wanted the fight,” Katy laughed, increasing the tempo, and teasing him further by rubbing her breasts against his chest.

Blue stopped talking beyond sometimes sighing, groaning, and breathing in sharply. But after a few minutes of this, he seemed perplexed:

“Strange, tickling sensation. What does it mean?”

“It’s fine. Relax, enjoy it,” katy replied, breathing quickly with her task.

“Ah, so hard, so fast! You are so strong! I love your strength! I … I’m losing control … I can’t help myself … agh, oh LORD!”

“Well!” Katy laughed, watching as each spasm gradually subsided. “You certainly enjoyed that!”

“It shouldn’t have happened,” he told her, glumly.

“NOW, what’s the matter?” she demanded, irritated.

“I enjoyed it.”

“I should think you did!” she retorted. “I’m the best at it in the business, and don’t you forget it!”

“It was wrong of me to enjoy such pleasure. I have sinned. I must tell my masters, because I will need to be punished.”

“Well I’ll tell you what, I can punish you right now and then you won’t need to tell your masters. How about that?” Katy offered, clenching her right fist.

“Yes, do it to me, punish me! I need it! I deserve it!

“Very well, one punishment coming up. Watch out for your jaw!”

Katy swung her dependable right fist into action one last time. It banged into his jaw; he cried out in pain, then fell both silent and down, unconscious.

Katy stood over him for some moments, savouring her victory. “Hmm, bad girl beats up good boy,” she thought, “it has a certain ring to it. A leaflet with that title, left on every table tonight, will earn me hundreds in tips. Huh, Blue Justice,” she thought aloud, turning to go, “more like Black and Blue Justice!”

She laughed contentedly, then walked away, swinging her rear in a decidedly “bad girl” sort of way.