Mixed boxing, 350 pictures 1920x1080 (Full HD), partially CFNM, no blood.

Todd took a few days off work sick, following his defeat to Siren (gallery 800). She was a colleague of his, and he didn’t want to endure all the mocking about his black eye, and the general bruising of his face. But a few days after his return, she went and sat with him in the work café, handing him an envelope.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“I downloaded the footage of our fight to my website. It’s made ever such a pretty little film, and lasts half an hour. You did well (sort of) to stay in the fight for so long, after the punishment I’d given you. Anyway, it sold brilliantly – it seems there’s quite a market for female domination, both in fighting and…other situations. That’s your share in the envelope. 20%.”

“Is that all?” Todd asked, peevishly.

“You’re lucky to get that! You lost, remember?”

“Yes, but what you made me endure after the fight should be worth more than 20%.” (He had a point.)

“Nonsense, you enjoyed it!”

“If you think I enjoyed that…”

“Oh, stop moaning! Listen, I’ve got a proposition for you. I showed my friend, Hiroko, the film. She loves getting into fights with men! She has Japanese parents, but was born in Texas, like me, and is as proud of her birthplace as I am. At the end of the film she sighed, and told me she hadn’t had a good set-to with a man for such a long time, so I suggested she fight you, if you’re willing. I’ll film it, and give you 25% of the profits.”

“Make it 50%.”

“What? 50% for the loser?”

“I won’t lose.”

“Yeah, right. I tell you what, fight me in the ring first. If you win, you get 50%. If I win, it’ll be 25%.

“Done.”

*****

They met in the ring the following Saturday morning, and Siren looked strikingly different from their previous encounter. Instead of red hair, she had dark hair, which Todd thought matched her oriental features even better; and in place of the red leotard, she wore a glossy, glowing green one. He wore his usual, boring, mud-coloured shorts.

They began by formally bowing to each other, and then circled. Todd made the first move, so half-heartedly that it’s difficult to understand what he was trying to do. He appeared to reach for Siren’s left shoulder. But she evaded the move with ease, and helped herself to his left arm, one strong hand gripping the wrist. Todd gave a cry as she wrenched his arm up, then locked it, hooking it inside the crook of her left arm. She manipulated it in this position, forcing him to follow her moves through the ring. In fact she seemed to go for a little walk, leading him like a dog.

This comical little episode was wasted on an empty gym, because an audience would have loved it. Siren closed it by dragging him round to face her and elbowing him on the chin. Then she whisked him up easily, held him to her side, and hip tossed him onto the mat. It was more comedy to see the man somersault after being thrown by the woman, ending up on his back, and Siren enjoyed the joke.

Todd got up painfully, resentful at her laughter at his expense. He raised his fists, and she did the same, still smiling. Perhaps she was smiling at her planned next move, a kick to the balls. Todd’s head went up and he grimaced with the intense, throbbing pain. Siren looked so ladylike in her shimmering green leotard; so nimble, yet at the same time so lethal, with her foot in the man’s balls.

At the same time as Todd’s hands went to his balls, Siren’s right fist landed on his chin. It knocked him back down to the mat, and he lay, still clutching his balls. Siren was delighted with her success, and indulged herself for some moments, mocking his ability as a fighter. But feeling she needed to make progress, she sat on his middle (no doubt troubling his manhood in a different way) and threatened him with her fist.

Having just felt it, and remembering how much damage both fists did last time, Todd wriggled onto his side. She was happy enough to let him, because she had something else in mind anyway. She locked her left arm round his neck and throat, choking him. When he began to gasp, she demanded, “QUIT.” He desperately held out, so she repeated the demand, and this time he complied, including a submission.

“Siren has defeated me again,” he added, hoping it might persuade her to let go of his throat. It did, and she did a victory pose over him, while warning him not to be late for the fight, and reminding him of his 25%.

She posed over him some more, left off, and when he tried to get up, pushed him back down with her foot, just for the hell of it. Then she left the ring, glancing back at the prone male, with what could be called a “victory smile” on her face.

*****

This happened at about 10 o’clock in the morning. The fight with Hiroko was to take place at 8 o’clock that evening, and we can only assume that Todd spent the next few hours resting. It must have done him some good, because he seemed well enough when he entered the ring. Hiroko was already there, warming up. In her orange leotard with matching gloves, and showing off her fabulous shape with her exercises, she looked almost edible, like some tempting orange dessert.

“Fight,” directed Siren when the camera was ready, and the two combatants left their corners. They touched gloves and circled, weighing each other up.

“Come on, Hiroko, hit him!” Siren thought, as each one appeared to be unwilling to commit themselves. “Oh yes, there we go!” she sighed contentedly, as her friend’s left fist landed on Todd’s jaw.

“That’s the style!” she continued with her silent personal commentary, when the lady-in-orange got him on the chin. She loved watching her friend fight! She adored the view she had of Todd’s mouth opening wide in shock, as the boxing glove in girlie orange met his chin.

Close to panic, Todd swung his left fist round in a – what, exactly? Hiroko stood out of the way, then showed him how it was done with her left fist. He stumbled, dangerously close to collapsing. When he recovered, Hiroko told him, “That was a Texas-sized left jab, bitch.” Todd could only wonder, “If that was a jab, what must a Texas (or Japanese) hook be like?”

Hiroko interrupted his thoughts, again with her left fist. If they had been on the face of a clock, she would have punched him at 2 o’clock on the chin. Siren purred with pleasure as the lady’s glove knocked his head back, and his face contorted as much with surprise as pain. She looked so sexy, with her fist outstretched, and the man driven backwards in the distance.

Hiroko’s right fist joined in the merry making. A cross, straight as an arrow, struck his battered chin. She was knocking him about as she chose, and he seemed to be bouncing off each orange glove slightly further than the previous time.

He had to do something. Seeing she had just distressed him with a right cross, why not reply in kind? He did, but she batted it away contemptuously with her left forearm, before hurling a left hook into his side. Siren shivered deliciously at the different sound her glove made, hitting his body instead of his face. (Todd shivered because of the ripples of pain emanating from his kidney area.)

“That’s how you knock them down,” thought Siren, when Hiroko’s right uppercut had Todd off his feet, and landing heavily on his back.

Breathing hard, more from adrenalin than anything else, she stood beside him and insisted he “get up and fight like a man”. She was already back in her stance, showing him her gloves, while he was on one knee, trying to rid himself of the dizziness she had caused. She elbowed away a slow right cross, then plunged her left glove into his chest. For the next few days, every time Todd breathed in, the pain he got would remind him of this oriental pugilist with the hourglass figure and gorgeous, large breasts.

Meanwhile, a missile of a right cross got him from the side, on the jaw. It jerked and jarred his whole body, forcing him to look to his side – and straight at the path of a left uppercut. It got him on the other jaw, and knocked him in the opposite direction. Todd was in deep trouble. He could only think defensively, and he clung on to the lovely body opposite him – well, you would, wouldn’t you – hoping to escape the barrage in a clinch.

But all it did was to put him on the ropes. Hiroko was literally able to walk him there, before landing her left glove in the pit of his stomach – arguably even lower than that. Then came that most dangerous of punches, an uppercut. From where she stood, Siren caught the woman’s superb curves and generous round rear, while her right fist soared up into her opponent’s jaw. It put him on his back again, and it’s doubtful if he even heard Hiroko’s reminder that “This Texas woman can throw hands, bitch.”

Back in their respective corners before the next round, she called out to him that she was “fixing to make this the last round.” She did some posing for the benefit of Siren’s camera, and then joined Todd in the centre for the new round. They circled, each one exhibiting a “Will I, won’t I?” attitude, before Hiroko struck with a left jab. As always, it was firm and strong, and reminded Todd of the fearsome power of this Japanese lady, who spoke with a Texan drawl. Once again, she had knocked him off-centre, as it were.

Because Todd was stooping slightly, she had to bend slightly for her next punch, pushing her delightful bottom out at the camera’s grateful lens. Her pose gave her the impression of scooping her right fist up under Todd’s chin. But it was a fine uppercut, for all that, and Todd wore the now familiar rictus of pain on his face. Once again, he resorted to defence, perhaps even negativity, and clinched. Once again, he ended up on the ropes, with Hiroko’s left glove thrusting into his side, and burning right through his body.

A second body blow shot into his stomach, and he folded around her right glove. It was the second cruel low blow in the stomach. It was already tender from her last punch there, and he let out a low moan of pain.

Keen to push the pace because she sensed victory, Hiroko zipped him under the chin with a left uppercut. The top rope grazed his shoulders as they scraped along it, while he recoiled from her punch. He was trapped between the rope and her fists, which she was using to devastating effect. She got him again with a body blow, this time so low on the stomach that it certainly did include his manhood. Siren nodded with satisfaction as Todd let out a howl, and sank to one knee.

“Get up and fight, bitch!” ordered Hiroko, angered that he dropped before she could finish him off. When he hesitated, cowering under her menacing image, she crouched down behind him, hooked her arms under his armpits, and heaved him back onto his feet. Then she turned him to face the camera.

“Now smile for the nice lady with the camera,” she whispered in his ear. “I want you to look your best before I knock you out!” Then her fist landed, dead straight on his chin. She got what she wanted, and he plunged to the mat on his back, unconscious.

Hiroko stood over him, raised both her gloves in victory, and started to count him out with the familiar commentary:

“One, two, three, Todd bless your heart, but you are not a Texas man!”

It continued in threes, with a special one for ten, announcing he had been knocked out by a “real Texas babe”. By this time, he had recovered consciousness, and he thought to himself, “Eleven, twelve, thirteen, Texas woman are shit!” For some reason, he opted not to say it out loud, and remained still on his back with his eyes closed. He didn’t even react when she placed her foot on his face, hoping she would leave him alone if he still appeared to be unconscious.

But when she moved her foot up and down his face, it wouldn’t have done to feign unconsciousness, and he believed her punishment would be worse if she thought that was what he was doing. So he “came round”, and she put her foot on his chest, then ordered him to take off his shorts.

After a quick victory pose for the camera, she knelt over him, holding his wrists in a classic schoolgirl pin. Remembering his previous fight with Siren, Todd knew what was coming next:

“Spread your legs.”

Remembering the ritual, without any pleasure, he knew the roleplay to follow:

“Who is fucking who, Todd?”

When he replied that she was, she insisted he say her name, so he complied with “Hiroko is fucking me.” She resumed the schoolgirl pin – surely the best way for a woman to dominate a man, because it enables her to look into his eyes, tease him with her body, and even kiss him. Which is what she now did, saying “Thank you.”

She briefly knelt over his face, tempted to indulge herself with some lady pleasuring, then changed her mind. The ritual must be followed! She placed her foot on his manhood, posing some more for the camera, then walked over to Siren and collected the weird, warped contraption that Todd remembered with horror from his previous bout. How did he get himself into these situations?

Wearing a ghastly strap on (pink this time), she directed him to get on his knees. Yes, he had to suck the revolting thing. As everyone knows, when a woman does that to a lucky man, part of her “technique” is to look into his eyes occasionally. Hiroko, determined to “experience” one for herself, now ordered him to do just that. He looked up, and she appeared to be in ecstasy.

Even worse, he knew, was to follow. After making him lie on his back (why, for heaven’s sake, at this stage?) she ordered him to get on all fours. This was the worst part of the whole twisted ritual, and Todd gritted his teeth before being penetrated. Mercifully, the ordeal wasn’t nearly as long as the previous time. He only had a few moments of horror before she withdrew, and demanded he lie on his back.

“Why can’t we just have this part, without all the rest, including the fight?” thought Todd, when his shapely victor reverse face sat him, and took hold of his cock. He sighed as her glove encased it. He loved to think of a woman’s dual abilities with her fist – the outside of it to punish him, and the inside of it to pleasure him.

“Are you my bitch?” Hiroko asked.

“Yes, Hiroko, you are my femdom lady boss,” he told her, and orgasmed at the thought of it.

She stood up, sighing contentedly, and glanced back down at him, beaten and played out. She giggled girlishly at the sight, before walking over to Siren. That lady now entered the ring, held up her friend’s right arm, and declared “the beautiful woman from Texas, Hiroko,” the winner.

“We are going to make a ton of money, thanks to you,” Siren told her, while stroking the fake penis that she still wore. The two women kissed, held hands, and left the ring, glancing back and chuckling at the defeated, supine male.