So Red, the woman in question, set about exercising close to him and his friends, Matt and Phillip, when she saw them in there one day after recently joining. The girls told her that the three of them did precious little working out themselves, but liked to leer at the women doing theirs and make uncharitable comments about them. Sure enough, she heard them talking about her.

“They say her name’s Red,” Phillip told them.

“She’s got a lot of stamina,” added Matt, admiring the way she kept at it.

“As well as bone and gristle,” quipped Todd, at which the other two guffawed – until they saw Red marching towards them, seemingly in a fury.

“Who said that?” she demanded.

“He did,” they both answered, not for the first time getting their friend in trouble.

“Apologise now, you wimp!” Red insisted (hoping he wouldn’t).

“No, don’t Todd,” Phillip urged, always happy to get someone else into a fight.

“Stand up for yourself,” Matt joined in, hoping for some entertainment.

“Damn right,” Todd agreed. “It was a private conversation, and you shouldn’t have been listening.”

“If you don’t apologise right now, I’ll take you into the ring and throw you all round it!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Todd jeered, keen not to look weak in front of his friends.

Minutes later, he was naked, as the gym’s rules insisted, facing Red in the ring and wondering if perhaps he should have been quite so cocky. He was still panting slightly after the warmup exercises, which she seemed to waltz through. Everything about her looked dynamic, striking, from her flaming red hair to her green leotard, that looked as if it had been moulded on her body. Every little movement seemed to make her large breasts swing slightly, the leotard swaying with them.

They met in the middle, bowed to each other, and took up fighting stances. They circled, then Todd threw a right jab, swiftly evaded to her side by Red. She responded by belting him with a left hook. No tentative little probes with her! Todd’s body lurched back and to his side, and he hopped about, just managing to stay on his feet.

Before he had steadied, she grabbed his right wrist and hooked her right leg behind his left leg. Then, in a clothesline-type movement of her right arm across his chest, she tripped him over her deliberately placed right leg.

Todd thought it was going to be a simple take down and he’d end up on the mat. But Red was more ambitious than that. Once she had him off his feet, she demonstrated great strength by holding him in mid-air, while dropping down to her left knee. Then she put him over her right knee, facing upwards, in a backbreaker. He cried out as she went to work on his spine.

Dropping him heavily on his left side, she secured his right leg and arm in the crook of her right and left arms respectively. His leg, especially, she had twisted agonisingly in this variation of a leg arm lock, while she thrust her knees into the small of his back, pushing his belly out with them.

Coming as it did immediately after the backbreaker, the pain this caused on his back was as intense as anything Todd had experienced in his long, pitiful record of defeats to women in the ring. Add to that, the pressure of her knees driving his middle forwards while she pulled his leg and arm backwards placed great strain on his ribs, stomach, chest and neck.

Red dropped him heavily on his chest, sat on his shoulders, and hauled his already severely damaged right leg over right shoulder. Her left hand gripped his leg just above the ankle and manipulated it agonisingly over and around her shoulder. Was it a leg lock or an ankle lock? Who cares, it just bloody hurt!

Bundling him onto his back, she now hooked his legs in the crook of her arms, placed her smart-but-practical boots wide apart, and lifted both herself and him into a bridge. His arms, head and shoulders were on the mat, while his back was pulled upwards and his thighs dragged into a right angle above his chest. To complete the picture, his calves and feet pointed upwards. His bones, muscles and tendons creaked and groaned under the pressure, as red-hot currents of pain flowed from his shoulders to his toes.

“Oh God!” moaned Todd, as Red plumped her substantial bottom down hard on his manhood and knelt straddling him. She seized his wrists, so that his arms crisscrossed his legs, forming the letter X. This forced his legs at such an acute angle from his body that they were actually touching his chest. “I never learn,” he moaned inwardly, recalling his earlier bone and gristle remark.

Placing him so that he was in the same position as in the bridge, Red now kept him in place by placing her left boot on his right hand and her right boot on his face. How much more of this could his body (not all that robust at the best of times) withstand?

But that wasn’t all. She now put him in the most elaborate choke/scissor anyone could devise. Kneeling across him, she forced his right leg into an extreme angle from his other leg with her right leg, whilst hauling his left leg in the opposite direction with her right hand. But the real treat went to her left leg, which performed the choke/scissor. Her legs were so strong that this single leg did the work two legs normally do in a more conventional head scissor, by sandwiching his throat and neck within her kneeling position. Todd vainly tapped her thigh with his right hand, imploring her to release him.

She did so in her own good time, and in her own brutal way. This was no longer wrestling, it was torture. She had the hapless Todd lying on his right side, while she (naturally) sat on his uppermost left side, while she manipulated his left arm and leg into the most imaginatively painful and grotesque positions.

Red pulled, pushed and punished her victim as if he were a lump of clay on a rotating plate. But it wasn’t done with the love of a craftsmen for his job; it was done with the unforgiving remorselessness of a woman with a grudge (albeit one which she engineered).

At last returning to the wrestling manual, she lay on her back to the right side of him and yanked that arm through her thighs into an armbar. Hitherto, his arms had been the least harmed of his body parts, so she felt it was high time to redress that. All his other joints and limbs seemed to be either in pain or numb, so the seasoned fighter knew that she needed to render these last parts useless to him. She stretched his arm with a will, until it felt to Todd that she would surely wrench it out of its socket altogether.

Yes, well that was all very well, but she had done nothing to his other arm. So reasoning, she knelt on one knee behind him and womanhandled him onto his right side, in order to lock his left arm agonisingly behind him. His shouts, cries and entreaties were delightful for her to hear.

Red stood up, kicked Todd sharply in the stomach, then ordered him to “get up and fight”. He did as he was told. Circling with her, he tried to avoid her eyes, because they looked ferocious. He knew he had made a dismal showing already, and tried to cheer himself up by thinking it’s a new round, we’re starting afresh …

Her right fist banged into his chest. It was a fine, overhand punch, and she leant into it like a seasoned boxer. Satisfied with the blow, the nice sound it made, and the look of dismay on his face, she thrust her left fist into his squidgy stomach. She was proving to be every bit as expert – and merciless – with her fists as she was with her grappling. Todd’s mouth opened in a silent exclamation of pain.

Red clinched, but loosely enough to launch her right knee up hard into his stomach, only just wounded by her fist. It was a cruel sequel, which tore into Todd’s pain barrier, almost destroying it. So consumed was he by it that he didn’t notice when she wound her left arm around his neck, under his left arm, and linked it with her right hand. But he did when she applied pressure to the headlock. He had only just experienced the strength in her arms with her punches; now he was being served it again, with her powers of constriction.

She used the headlock to wear him down to the mat, slowly, slowly. She could have done it in an instant, but it was more effective (and fun) for her to make him think he had the chance of overcoming the assault, so he offered resistance. He wasted precious energy contesting the downward progress while she ground him down, little by little.

When at last he arrived on his back, she threatened hideous destruction with her right knee on his manhood, while placing his neck once more in a half-scissor with her left leg. But she soon abandoned the hold. Instead, she opted for a reverse face-sit, while she set about his middle remorselessly with her fists.

After she had turned his stomach to jelly, she stood up and demanded he “get up and fight” again. It was a tall order after what she had just done to him, but preferable to being attacked as he lay supine, which she would surely do.

So Todd got up rather shakily. Instead of circling, Red – always the one to take the initiative – opted to lock up with him. It was no contest. In contrast with her previous method when bringing him down, she put him swiftly on the ropes, at which she rammed her left fist low into his stomach.

Body shots clearly being a favourite with her, she fired her right fist up into his chest, making just as “nice” a sound for her as it had earlier.

Trying to edge away from another relentless barrage from her fists, Todd unwittingly put himself in a corner. Red held him in place by his right arm with her left hand, then repeatedly set about his stomach with her devastating right fist. Gloating that he had just made her job easier, she punished him for his stupidity.

Whatever we may say about Todd (and this author has said plenty) we can give him some credit for staying on his feet after such an assault. When she eventually backed off, he slumped with his hands on his legs, trying to breathe. With his eyes closed, he was a sorry sight indeed; but he was still upright, more or less.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Red in the centre, beckoning to him. Better go, he thought. It was preferable to staying in that rotten corner.

Was it, though? Because as soon as he joined her, she swung her right fist into action once more, battering his chin with an uppercut. As soon as she hit him, it was certain it would put him on his back. There was no swaying, staggering or hopping, but straight down to the mat.

Red raised her arms in triumph, then did a rather eccentric victory dance. But she sobered up quickly enough, then opted for the familiar pose over the vanquished male with one foot on his stomach. But seeing him stir, she helped him up, telling him she was not “done”. Todd wondered if he would survive another onslaught from her, concluding that she was the meanest bitch he had ever known.

They certainly don’t come much meaner, as she teased him with her chin, inviting him to hit it. He took a swing at it with his right; she seized that arm and crashed a huge palm strike at his chin, brutally showing him how to do it.

As she already had his right arm secure, and her right hand on his face, she swept her right leg behind his right leg and hip tossed him to the mat. To add to his humiliation, she used the throw to carry him like a baby for a few moments, before allowing him to drop onto his back.

Lying over him on her back, Red stretched above him on her hands. Then her thighs gripped his face and neck in a front head scissor. She put her head back and wallowed in both the sensations and the glow of victory, while he struggled to breathe (again).

“Have you had enough?” she asked, after some moments of self-indulgence on her part and near-strangulation on his.

“Yes, I submit,” Todd answered, thankful at last to be out of this torment.

Except he wasn’t. She kept the hold going some more moments, just for the hell of it. When at last she relented, he flaked out on his back, wondering how he had survived it all.

“Have you had enough, Todd?” she repeated, pulling him halfway up by his hair.

“I just told you, you daft bitch,” was what he wanted to say. Instead, he answered weakly, “Yes, please no more,” whereupon she ordered him onto his back.

It seems she had forgotten to bring the ritual strap on. “Well, that’s a result!” thought Todd. So she made up for it by kneeling over his head and sitting on his face. He knew what was expected of him, and went at it with a will. After he brought her to climax, she turned 180 degrees to face down his body, took his defeat boner in her hand, and returned the favour.

But still she wasn’t finished. She made him get on all fours next, and mimed penetrating him from behind. He was happy to go along with the play acting, thankful that, for once, there was no hideous strap on to contend with.

“Are you my bitch, Todd?” she asked.

Todd, ready to say anything to appease her, merely confirmed, “Yes”.

She made him get up, then punched him in the stomach one last time. The shock as much as the blow itself caught him unawares and he dropped to the mat on his back. She straddle pinned him and forced him to admit defeat – for the third time. At last, after a bit more posing over him, she left him on his back in the ring.

That must surely be his weirdest fight to date.