Mixed boxing, 300 pictures 1920x1080 (Full HD), completely CFNM, bloody action.

Jason had managed to persuade Akari, his Japanese girlfriend, that CFNM boxing might be fun to experiment with. He was a wealthy (some would say spoilt) young man, and his indulgent parents had bought him his own private boxing ring in their grounds, because they believed he had a “healthy” interest in boxing. (They assumed it was clothed, and male-only.)

Akari had experience of all forms of martial arts, whereas Jason only knew boxing. But the idea of facing each other in the ring excited both of them, and as it was boxing or nothing, Akari consented to a boxing-only match.

She was a lively young woman, with a keen sense of fun, and happily agreed to some sparring with Jason once his parents were safely out of the way. She chose her outfit for the occasion with care. It was her favourite leotard, based on a traditional Japanese design. It was white with a yellow border, and featured native pink blossoms. At the sides, it was daringly laced in yellow in an inverted “V” shape, and gave a teasing glimpse of her graceful, gentle, curves. At the front, it was partially open, and gave more than a glimpse of her beautiful breasts. Red boxing gloves completed the delightful picture.

Once in the ring, Jason felt a little bit in awe of his girlfriend, smiling confidently at him. He had expected her to be wary and serious, not slightly mocking.

“Well come on,” she invited him. “You’re the boxer, do your stuff!”

“Okay,” Jason answered, squaring up, at which she finally raised her fists.

Akari fluttered delicately out of the way of his left hook, and planted a good punch on his nose in response. It made his eyes water, but it is doubtful whether she noticed, so swift was she in following up with her left fist low into his stomach. Her strength belied her gentle appearance, and Jason was disconcerted at the dull, throbbing ache which she had inflicted on him.

He was disconcerted even more when he nearly over-balanced from a left cross at nothing. It was supposed to erase her cocky smile (which was getting on his nerves), but only managed to make her laugh as his fist “whooshed” harmlessly above her beautiful bottom, pointing prominently - and deliberately - from her evasion of the stroke.

To add insult to injury, Akari banged her right fist hard into Jason’s kidney, before he had completely recovered from stumbling. His ladylike girlfriend was making him look ridiculous – he, who considered himself a good, amateur boxer. Yet she had landed three good punches on him, to his nil. She made it four, with a teasing right jab just below his left eye.

But perhaps she teased just a little too much, for Jason at last struck home. His low, very low, left into Akari’s stomach took her by surprise. It was a ferocious blow, and it made her fold, then sink to one knee on the mat. Jason then sent his girlfriend on her way with a blow to her head. She lay, prone on the mat, and he celebrated. As so often, friendly sparring had quickly turned into intense competition (as his tasteless gloating proved).

Akari slowly got to her knees, and took in the unedifying sight of her boyfriend celebrating the fact that he had inflicted pain on a woman. He stood, smirking and fists raised as she got shakily, but gamely, to her feet.

“You may have scored more punches,” he crowed, “but mine were the ones that told.”

“It’s to be expected,” she answered, wincing at each painful breath, “men are stronger than women in their arms and shoulders. Now, if I could use my legs …”

“That’s not what we agreed,” Jason snapped.

“How fortunate for you,” she answered, adopting a boxing stance. Come on then, round two.”

They circled, and then Jason struck with his left; Akari arched her back superbly, so that his punch sailed harmlessly past her face, leaving him gazing into her breasts, about 2 inches from his nose. “That’ll distract him,” she thought, with satisfaction.

But she was wrong about him. Unlike most young men, he was more interested in the “sport”, as he called it, than in the lovely young woman facing him, and he surprised her with a blow just under her left shoulder, and rather painfully on the side of her breast. But she was able to nudge her body out of the way of a similar strike with his left.

Akari wondered if he was deliberately aiming for her breasts, as she avoided yet another punch aimed high on her body. Then she got him. Straight as a lance, her right fist landed on his ear. Good one! It nearly had him over, and he staggered to keep up with the momentum of it.

“Aim for my tits, and see what you get!” she told him angrily, the sound reaching his brain in muffled waves.

But he responded well, and returned the favour on her right ear. When he followed up with a right hook, Akari was clearly in trouble. Her body lurched to the right and her face stung savagely. Then he got her on the jaw. She crumpled and sank to the mat, and once again Jason celebrated a questionable win. He was even worse this time: strutting about, both arms aloft.

Akari took longer to stand up this time. Close to tears, she told him she was giving up. He’d won, she told him, and she had had enough.

“But we’ve only had two rounds!” Jason pleaded.

“All right, I’ll agree to continue if I can use my legs,” she offered.

“But then it’s not boxing,” he protested.

“It’s up to you, take it or leave it. A woman’s main strength is in her legs, and if you won’t allow a fair fight, then I’ll go and read a book or something.”

Jason complained for a few moments, and then moodily consented. They squared up, both determined to teach the other a lesson. Jason tried to repeat the success of his earlier right hook, but this time Akari parried it with her right arm. She then tried a high left kick, but he managed to ward it off. Then he ducked under an attempted right kick.

Both of them seemed to be better at defence than attack, as her kicks and his punches were frustratingly blocked by the other. But after Akari ducked under a second attempt by Jason to repeat the success of his right hook, she struck. After all the arguing about being able to kick, it was with a punch too, low with her right into his stomach.

It was almost as if she had distracted him with kicks in order to take his mind off her ability with her fists, as waves of sickening pain spread through Jason’s diaphragm, and he folded around her fist. This enabled Akari to lock his right arm in the crook of her left arm, and his head in that of her left. Then she brought her knee up into the same place that she had already struck, and the waves of pain turned into a flood.

Jason slumped forward, so she swapped knees, using her left this time, and banged it brutally into his face. He slumped onto his knees, so she helped herself to the open target of his head, and banged her left fist into the back of it. Her trusty right fist put him on his back, before her left made him gasp with a throat punch. Then she knelt on it for good measure.

In full dominatrix mood, Akari exploited his supine helplessness and swung her other leg over his body, before engulfing his face in her sex.

“Fight your girlfriend, would you?” she scowled at him. “That’s weird. Okay, weirdo, now you must do what she wants. That’s it, breathe in - if you can! Oh, yes! Just like that!”

This time it was Akari’s turn to celebrate, and Jason came round to the infuriating sight of his girlfriend walking around him and smiling broadly. Not only had she defeated him and knocked him down; she had forced him to pleasure her and caused him to pass out in the process. He got up, determined on revenge. The friendly sparring had already become fierce competition between them; now it had degenerated into an out-and-out fight, with all the bitter rivalry of an ancient blood feud.

He struck, she parried. That smile of hers as she did so, infuriated him. Laugh at him, would she? Very well, he’d soon change her expression. Except he didn’t. She blocked his next attempt at a left cross, and then one more of his favourite right hooks.

This was when she proved the point about a woman’s main strength. She took him completely by surprise with a high kick. Her left foot shot into his chin and mouth; his back arched violently, and he felt faint after this startling bolt of pain.

Fired up, Akari struck him just above the left hip with a kick. Jason blundered to his side, and she caught him on the jaw with a left cross. She took advantage of his bewilderment to take half a step away from him so she could fire a devastating super kick back at him. The flat of her right foot hit him square in the face, and his mouth stung as if he had been attacked by bees. Her kick was a model of balance, timing and strength, which would have had an audience of thousands roaring their approval.

It brought him to his knees, whereupon she got him in the face with another one. Jason, bleeding from several cuts to his face, slumped down on his shoulders, but she was on him, wanting more. She punched him on the jaw from behind; she elbowed him in the face from the side. Then, from underneath and behind him, she brought her strong legs into play and applied a body scissor.

At last Jason passed out, and Akari notched up the rounds: 2-all. Moreover, she was now in prime from, whereas he was – well, he was lying on his back, unconscious. She stood waiting for him to recover, and relishing her revenge.

At length, Jason began to stir. He got to his knees, groaning, but still supported himself with his hands on the mat, like a baby learning to crawl. She stood close to him, every inch the formidable amazon, albeit in a pretty white leotard, decorated with gentle Japanese blossoms. But somehow the femininity of her appearance seemed to match the ferocity of her combat – as if the Japanese knew the secret of combining the ladylike with the warlike.

All this was understandably lost on Jason, who manfully got to his feet, to be met by his laughing girlfriend. Her mocking confidence infuriated him, and he lashed out, catching her left breast with his fist. Akari gasped with pain, and he took advantage by swapping fists to his left, and punching her in the stomach.

It’s well-known that some men, when faced with losing to a woman in a fight, get an erection, known as a “defeat boner”. But this strange young man now had one, seemingly from inflicting pain on a woman – and his girlfriend, at that. If anyone deserved a beating, he did! (Is the narrator allowed to take sides? Oh well, I’ve done it anyway.)

Jason fought with the intense brutality of someone with a score to settle, and he landed a hefty right cross on Akari’s jaw. But she hadn’t been imbued with martial arts from a child for nothing, and she managed to stop an attempted uppercut in its tracks, using both gloves. She instantly seized that arm, and reverse-punched his face with her free hand, adding one more cut to the patchwork of them already there.

Keeping hold of his arm and locking it, she forced him to the ropes, and worked his head and neck under the middle one. His bent over, naked form presented an easy target. Plus, if it was all right for him to hit her breasts …

Akari’s right boot slammed up into Jason’s balls. He yelled in pain and dropped to his knees. Once again, she was on his back, pushing his head over the bottom rope, so that its coarse material grazed his throat. She stood up and kicked him in the back of the head, and he dropped completely to the mat for the last time, this time beaten for good.

It was an easy task to bundle him onto his back, and Akari chose to exploit her victory by lying over him in the “69” position. With her sex on his battered face for a second time, she gripped his cock in her glove. How the famed “woman’s touch” could work under so much padded boxing glove is a mystery, but it wasn’t long before she felt the familiar spasm of his body as he orgasmed violently. (It was the only violent thing he was capable of doing right then.)

Akari stood up, celebrated her victory in traditional style, with a boot on Jason’s spent penis, and then walked away, leaving him to recover in his own time.