"You may or may not know that I’m the ‘model’ for the instructor in the women’s self-defence group. Well she’s been more and more insulting recently. It’s bad enough that she demonstrates throws on me and makes the women laugh. But recently she’s got worse. Tonight she said, ‘There are two things that men are good at – boasting and farting.’ Then, to show them the easiest self-defence move there is, she kneed me in the balls, and laughed at me staggering about and clutching my groin."

At that moment the women filed through after their class, and one of the men, who also happened to be on the gym committee, called them over.

"Who is your instructor?" he enquired.

A fine-looking blonde woman in a purple leotard approached him, and said, "I am."

"Can I have a word in private, please?"

"I’m afraid I’m in a bit of a hurry. What’s the matter? You can tell me in front of these ladies."

"All right. I’ve received a complaint about sexist behaviour in your classes, as well as serious assault."

The woman looked amused, irritating the committee man. "It’s a serious complaint, and one the committee would feel bound to investigate."

"Ooh!" mocked the woman, infuriating the man.

"Well you wouldn’t like it if a man made insulting remarks about women!" he roared, going red in the face."

"No, I wouldn’t. I’d throw him all over the shop," she calmly assured him. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I’m going to report you!" he thundered, pointing at her, which made the women laugh.

"You know," she eyed him up and down, "It’s a pity you look such a wimp, otherwise I’d suggest we settle it in the ring."

At this, a man elbowed his way to the front, and said, staring at her, "I wrestle."

"Do you indeed? What’s your name?" the woman enquired.

"Destroyer."

"Destroyer? More like cockle-boat to me!"

He glared at her, furious at her remark and her calmness.

"Well I’ll tell you what, Mr Paddle-Steamer, we’ll make it a ticket event and advertise it. How’s that? People will flock to see a mixed match. Say a fortnight from today, in the city centre ring. My name’s Diane, by the way."

So it was arranged, and Diane was right: the event sold out. A mixed fight! People went for a variety of reasons. Some were genuinely interested in the sport; others were supporters of Diane (the majority), or Destroyer. These included the men and women in the gym at the time the contest was agreed. There were people who were mildly curious about the contest, and – yes – there were those who had a sexual fascination with the prospect of a male-female fight, though they were too shy to admit it. Lastly, talk had got about that Diane was very good-looking, and many men (and some women) went because they wanted to see this shapely blonde girl with the pretty face and full breasts in action.

The contestants walked towards the ring amid applause, cheers, and boos, depending on which one was in a particular area of the crowd as they made their way. Once they were both in the ring at their respective ends the loudspeakers announced:

"Ladies and Gentlemen. We have for you a very unusual contest today. A man and a woman have agreed to wrestle [cheers]. On the right, we have Destroyer!"

That man strode about his area of the ring, arms aloft, and jutting his chest out. There were some half-hearted cheers from some men, but far more jeers and laughter from both men and women.

"On the left, we have Diane!"

Diane beamed at the audience all around, amid the cheers. She then curtsied, and blew kisses. She looked magnificent! She was wearing her favourite purple long-sleeved leotard, with her nails painted to match. Completing the picture were purple-and-white soft boots. The leotard itself was cut high, emphasising the superb curves of her hips and bottom. At the front it clung tightly to her breasts, her large nipples clearly discernible through the material. She seemed to transmit feminine strength to the crowd.

It fell silent for the match to begin. They met in the middle and, quick off the mark, Destroyer attempted to grab Diane. She side-stepped, spun in a semi-circle behind him and, while he was still following through, placed him in a headlock. Her fingers themselves locked, securing Destroyer’s neck and throat in her grip, while the right side of his head and part of his face were pushed hard against her left breast. (These she used to disconcert and distract male opponents – or to attract male friends, depending on the circumstances.)

Diane now worked them both down onto the canvas, turning the headlock into an anaconda, with her on top of him lying face-down. Still using those breasts, she pulled his head tightly, so that it rested between them. With her forearm firmly against his chin and throat, his breathing was restricted, and the audience in the front rows could see the pain and worry on his face.

Not letting up at all, Diane now placed her feet either side of Destroyer, and levered his chin upwards into a camel clutch. His spine creaked as it was bent into an unnatural, excruciating angle, with Diane subtly increasing the pressure by degrees. His back felt as if it was on fire. As for Diane, she seemed to be rehearsing her routine. In direct contrast to Destroyer, the front rows could see her smiling as she wrenched him into yet more of a hideous contortion.

Deciding it was time to inflict pain elsewhere, Diane grabbed both his wrists, moved back, and hauled. The reverse arm lock was useful in maintaining the pain in his spine, while spreading it to both his arms. First of all she held these with his hands meeting, but gradually she worked his arms outwards as well as back, eliciting the first yelp of pain in the match.

Without a break, Diane now worked Destroyer round and onto his back. Placed to full advantage by sitting on him, she punched him in the face. Changing hands, she punched him again.

"Just think, Destroyer. There are several thousand people here tonight. Several thousand people will know that –" Crunch "- a woman gave you that black eye."

Briefly pinning him, she moved into a head scissors, holding his chin and mouth against her sex for a moment, before standing up. Laughing, she saw that he had an erection under his briefs, and pointed it out to the crowd, gloating. She turned away from him to "milk" the responses from the crowd.

But this proved to be a mistake. Destroyer was not as beaten as she supposed. Silently, he moved back onto his front, approached Diane, and grabbed her leg. She was clearly taken by surprise, and a gasp of alarm could be heard from her supporters. He heaved, and she lost balance, falling onto her side, with him grabbing her shoulder and waist. Now he lifted her and attempted a body slam; but she was wise to the move. She converted his manoeuvre into a reverse head scissors, while she grabbed his balls. Letting go with her hand, she maintained the scissors in various positions, until she ended up with him in an arm lock as well.

He would have shrieked with the pain in his arm, but her suffocating thighs meant he had no strength to make any sort of sound. He was trapped and at her mercy. She seemed to grow bored with this, so she worked the position to one where she held his neck and his other arm between her powerful thighs. There seemed to be nothing those supple, shapely legs weren’t capable of! Letting go of his arm, she now pulled his chin up with her left calf while maintaining the squeeze of her thighs.

Pressing home her advantage Diane now knelt at Destroyer’s head, and heaved his left arm into an agonising lock, once again in a grotesque anti-natural angle. At the same time she continued to use her breasts to unnerve him, resting his elbow against her left one. She worked him to his feet, and towards the ropes, his face a picture of pain and distress. Now his right arm was wrenched back into a single chicken wing, with her left heel trapping his left leg. She held him like that with his head over the ropes, before dropping him once more to the canvas, first in another anaconda, then in an armbar, her left calf trapping his chin and throat. The burning feeling he had first had in his spine was now transported with a vengeance to his right arm.

Having weakened that arm enough, she set to work on his left one, locking it and holding the palm of his hand against her breasts. How he would have loved that in happier times! Despite his pain and embarrassment, he could feel how pliant they were. Her left leg snaked around his neck, to meet her right thigh to form another head scissors. She smiled down at him, full knowing the effect his hand against her breasts, and his face against her thighs had.

She returned to his right arm. Keeping the head scissor, she worked his poor limb into another armbar. He was helpless. She was able to choose any position at her leisure. Hauling him by his hapless arm, the crowd gasped as she lifted him above her shoulders in a perfect rack.

"My God!" uttered a young man in the third row to his girlfriend next to him, "Can you believe how strong she is?" His girlfriend looked at him curiously. He had gone pale, and there was sweat on his forehead. She smiled, guessing the effect this was having on him. She shivered, pretending she was cold, and placed her coat over both their laps. Feeling the front of his trousers, she smiled more broadly and nodded to herself.

In the ring, the powerfully built man was helpless as the woman held him above her head for a few more moments, stretching him to the limits of his endurance. She smiled towards the women from her class and cheering broke out. She strode to their side of the ring where she now deposited the man on the ropes, so that he now hung precariously above the front row. It was an ungainly, comical sight, and sections of the audience did indeed laugh at the ridiculousness of the man dangling on the ropes. Diane looked thoughtful for a moment, then punched him. The audience could hear the thud as her left fist punished his back. Then she used her right in the same way. Destroyer "Oofed" with each blow. Her fists now sought his neck, before returning to his back. She concluded the mini-episode with a scorching kick to his kidneys.

Bringing him off the ropes, Diane placed his right arm into another lock before standing behind him and turning it into a twist. Then she kneed the base of his spine. That would hurt for weeks!

Destroyer’s head hung in dismay as she held his right wrist with one hand, and forced his middle fingers apart with the other. He was sobbing silently. Standing on the toes of her left foot, she kicked him in the balls with her right. The men in the crowd winced as her boot smacked sickeningly home. Some of the primmer women tutted; others laughed and cheered more loudly than before. He sank to the canvas, and lay on his front.

"All right Destroyer?" Diane mocked, "How’s your torpedo?" A roar of laughter went up from those in the crowd close enough to hear.

Giving him no time to recover, she moved behind him, knelt either side of his legs, grabbed his wrists, and pulled his arms back in a reverse double armbar. It had the same effect on his spine, ribs and neck as the camel clutch, but with the added advantage of hurting his arms. By degrees, she converted the hold to a full Nelson, and then an arm twist. She was going through the wrestler’s textbook, with him as a dummy. By means of a moving sleeper, she worked him towards the ropes where most of her supporters were, including the women from the gym. For the finale she held his head beyond the ropes in a final head scissors, so that his face was locked against her sex, with the women shouting encouragement.

"Go on Diane, make him lick you!" A cheer went up when he was forced to do just that. Sparks went through her body at the touch of his tongue on the thin material of her leotard. It was about the only time any of his actions had an effect on her that day. Just so he wouldn’t be tempted to contest the outcome of the match, she elbowed him in the balls.

That was it. Destroyer had had enough. He was utterly defeated, and Diane got up and stood over him with her foot on his groin. She raised both arms, fists clenched, in triumph and acknowledged the cheers of the crowd.