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“This is an insult!” raged Steel Head. “I will not fight a woman!”
“You accepted my challenge,” Chun Li answered him, “and replied that you would fight anyone. Well, here I am.”
“I cannot fight you. Look at yourself! You have rosettes on your head, as if you’re a candidate in an election!”
“And if we painted your helmet in bright colours, and put bells on the end of those horns, you’d look like a court jester, falling down on your bum all the time. Mind you, you’ll be doing that when you fight me, anyway.”
“And you! You stick your breasts out and try to look like a statue of Venus!”
“Why shouldn’t I? I’m very proud of my breasts. Men die for them. One or two may even have died OF them!” she added, winking at him.
“If we put a third horn on your helmet in the middle, made it about two inches long, and reduced the ones on the sides to half an inch, you’d be able to wear it over your cock and balls.”
“For that I punish!” shouted Steel Head, high kicking with his right foot. Chun Li parried it with her left arm, defiantly pushing him to one side with her skilful deflection. He grunted in effort and frustration as a second kick met the same fate. She met it by raising her right leg, at the same time duelling with an attempted palm strike.
“No!” shouted Steel Head as, too late, he saw Chun Li’s left foot homing in on his face. Her angled kick caught him on the chin with a sickening crack, effortlessly avoiding the helmet.
“Your helmet needs a face guard!” she taunted him as he cried out, staggering backwards with the blow. But he recovered quickly, turned away from her, and back kicked. How frustrating to have a third kick swatted away by her! Her immaculate defence met it perfectly, her arms rendering it useless. But the beauty of her stance was that she was swiftly able to turn defence into attack, and she caught him viciously to the side of his left knee with her left foot.
His knee was seriously weakened, and he visibly wobbled as his leg threatened to collapse under him. He had to admit she knew her business: it was her footwork in defence that served as a springboard for instant retaliation.
Steel Head realised he must give his leg time to recover a little, so he lunged with a left cross – and recoiled as her Chun Li’s left foot struck his right shoulder, foiling the punch and giving him another injury. Playing for time, he pivoted on his right foot, turned 180 degrees, and back kicked again; once again the audacious woman batted it away with little effort.
He was getting frustrated. Every time he tried something, it seemed to be met with some mysterious Oriental inspiration rather than mere combat ability. Himself a believer in the powers of exotic mystery to overawe his opponents (as demonstrated in his striking outfit), he in turn was in danger of becoming a prisoner of it. He had to take the initiative …
Agghhh! Unforgiveable! He had allowed his thoughts to be distracted, and his punishment was a numbing hook-kick in the small of his back. Impenetrable in defence, Chun Li was proving herself to be devastating in attack, and he had to absorb yet another weakened limb, and to focus his mind against the growing universal pain in his body.
She jumped. He had no idea what she had in mind, and flailed about, blindly hoping for a lucky stroke, turning this way and that. Instead he got an elegant boot between the shoulder blades. It was too much to withstand, and it brought him down. He rolled onto his back, but she was upon him.
“Feeling horny?” she laughed, trapping him on the floor with her hand on the right wing, or “horn”, of his helmet.
“What’s the matter, Rust Head? Didn’t you realise that a wise opponent could use your ridiculous headdress to her advantage? That’s what comes of not fighting a woman before!”
She pinned him in this way, and knelt on his arm, before transferring one hand to his arm, with her other hand on his throat.
“There you are, now you can get a good look at my breasts,” she mocked, swinging them above him. “You’re privileged. It’s every man’s ambition to be able to gaze up at them! Not only that, you’ve got my tight round arse on the exact spot that makes men go weak! Are you going weak? I think you are.”
Steel Head was choking, with both her hands now on his throat. This was a crisis. He grabbed her wrists, but she was so strong it made no difference to her hold. In a change of tactic, she punched the side of his helmet, proving just how flimsy it actually was, as the cold metal banged against his face. She’d got him just to the side of his right eye, and there would be a humiliating bruise there soon. Chun Li chuckled as she read his thoughts.
That chuckle proved to be a moment of hubris, though. Steel Head sensed that she was becoming distracted with her dominance and “trash talking”. He seized her round her waist, and swung her round and up above him, regaining his feet with impressive strength. Triumphantly, he slammed her down on her back, and reversed the positions.
“How do you like it?” he roared, grabbing her throat with both hands, and relishing the way she struggled, as he had done moments earlier. He transferred one hand to her arm, pinning her the same way she had done him, deliberately.
“There now, you whore, you bitch! How dare you speak to Steel Head the way you did earlier! I will not have my ears contaminated by such wanton language! You will experience my revenge!”
She was close to panic. Her right wrist was secured by what seemed to her the grip of a madman. Worse, his other hand was on her throat. He may talk about “wanton language”, but she sensed he had a perverted gratification in subduing her. You never know, perhaps she could exploit that …
She moved her hips up gently, and stimulated his groin by rubbing her sex against it. She did it again, rather more aggressively, and felt him respond. Then she heard him groan. All men succumb to it when you tease them there, she thought, delightedly. She pushed violently, starting with her right foot, then using her formidable bodily strength; and he realised bitterly that he had been tricked.
She had him on his back again, and this time there was no idle talk. She had a fight to win. Determined he wouldn’t recover again, she knelt with one knee on his chest, pinning him again with one hand on an arm, and another on a helmet wing. Then she raised him, and swung her fist into the other side of his helmet. His head resonated with the “clang”.
Struggling to stay on his feet, he grabbed her in desperation, and it turned out to be her bottom. Despite everything, he thought how can this woman, with her large breasts, fabulous bottom, trim waist and pretty face, out-fight a seasoned male warrior? It wasn’t right …
She was forcing him down again. But then she held him up, spun him round and locked both arms round that helmet, which was turning out to be more of an encumbrance than an advantage. She had him by the throat from behind, and there was nothing he could do. She pushed him down onto his front and held the helmet with both hands, settling on the wings. Now it was safe to indulge in talk!
“How does it feel to have my hand gripping your horn? You wish!”
“Filth,” his lips read, but he was wise enough not to make any sound.
“A woman can manipulate in a million ways with her hands, where a man is most sensitive and vulnerable. So now …”
He understood, in terror, that she could break his neck if she wanted to, simply by moving the horns on that deathly helmet. He cried out, imploring her to be merciful. It was enough.
She had won, and that was what she wanted. She had set out to show that Woman, with her subtle, unpredictable ways, could always defeat Man, who couldn’t resist showing off, with disastrous results.