Todd liked exotic women. He also liked strong women. In conversations with her, he learnt that she went to the gym a lot and had won trophies in various sports. He didn’t ask at the time, but he was willing to bet at least one or two trophies were in self-defence. She was tall and athletic, and she seemed to him to have the temperament for unarmed combat. Lastly, she had superb, large breasts, fine curves, powerful thighs and a muscular bottom that swung provocatively when she walked.

But why didn’t she smile? He broached the subject, and she told him it was because her people on her half-sister’s side, the Sioux Red Indians, no longer had a home. Todd, who was a philistine, didn’t want to hear about the massacre, or “Battle” of Wounded Knee in 1890. Well, it was his fault: he did ask. But, she said, she did smile sometimes, and if he got to know her well, he would see that smile.

So he cultivated her company. After their third date, she said she would take him back to her “happy place”. He wasn’t surprised to discover that it was a basement gym below her house, with a full-sized boxing ring. (For someone who claimed to have no home, she wasn’t doing badly.)

“Okay Todd,” she began. “I think I know enough about you to suspect you like a girl who can take care of herself in a fight, perhaps even to the extent of a little femdom?”

“Yeah!” he agreed enthusiastically.

“Very well, I’ll put on my favourite white fighting leotard. Take your clothes off, and we’ll wrestle in ten minutes.”

*****

It was like old times, thought Todd happily, as he watched Promise doing warm-up exercises from his corner. She was wearing the style of white leotard popular with women in the fight clubs. Whereas the left arm was covered in the translucent material as far as the fingers, the right arm was bare. Under the arm, it was cut daringly low over the breast. It did full justice to her powerful, curvaceous figure.

Her exercises over, Promise locked up with Todd. How exciting it was to be grappling with a strong woman after so long! Todd exerted a little more pressure; Promise met it and, like a gambler in a card game, raised the stakes. Todd made an effort to respond, and just as he sensed he was holding his ground, she let go. He stumbled forward and she whipped her arms round his neck, linking them under his left arm. Easy! It was her favourite way of putting an opponent in a head lock. Plus, she had his near arm secured too. Her bicep and forearm tightened around his neck, and he stooped awkwardly.

Promise used the lock to bring him down to the mat. Having relinquished his arm, she was steering him by his neck, like a dog on a lead, and the pain was becoming severe. She put him on his back but kept the head lock going while sitting on his near, right arm, so it couldn’t do any harm.

Tumbling him over onto his stomach, she twisted his left arm behind his neck in a chicken wing. Since she kept the head lock going at the same time, the position looked like a sleeper.

Increasing the tempo before he could submit, Promise bundled him onto his back and put his waist in a body scissor. Locking his near, right arm, she smiled into his eyes – he was getting to know her! His cock leapt to erection, and he returned her smile. Her formidable thighs went to work on his weak middle.

When she swapped sides, but kept the scissor, she saw that Todd had lost his smile. His eyes were closed in an effort to withstand the siege on his stomach, spine and ribs. Did he hear a rib crack, or was it his imagination? Moments earlier, he had thought her arms were strong around his neck – but they were nothing compared to her thighs! He cried out when she twisted his left arm.

Sensing he was going to submit, she let him go and stood over him, hands on hips. She looked down at him, the all-conquering female with her male prey. She was standing directly above his gaze, so his eyes took in her towering beauty. Since she was panting slightly with excitement, it agitated her breasts, and his erection increased as he looked up at them wobbling, the iron-hard nipples poking at the thin material of her leotard.

But back to the fight, she thought. Pulling him up by his left arm and his right ear (most painfully), she wrapped her arms around his middle and lifted him. There was no grunt of effort from her, because it was such a minor thing for her to lift a full-grown man in this way. No, Todd was the one making all the noises! He dangled helplessly in the air while she toyed with him.

Then alarm filled him when she pointed him downwards. She was going to slam him. He put a hand out ineffectually, because he landed on his back. His whole body jarred with the impact, and he closed his eyes again in pain. He opened them when he felt a hand clutching him by the jaw. Yes, she held it in her left hand, while she ominously clenched her right fist. Oh no …

Her fist landed on his chin - her left one. An old trick it might have been, but the thing about old tricks is they usually seem to work. She had had him fixated with her right fist, but hammered her left one in while he was distracted. Gripping his left wrist with her right hand, she properly socked him with her left.

Having hit him, she stopped for a moment to admire her handiwork. She had dazed him with a single punch. When reality struck, Todd shifted his face to one side and put his hand up to try to ward off the next punch with her other fist which he sensed must come. He was right about that, at least. Where he was wrong was in imagining he could deflect it. It thundered into his ear. His head rocked further to the side and his hearing went snowy.

Paradise wore a professional expression all this time. She was very much the dedicated fighter, concerned to see that her work was effective. What was unprofessional about that second punch was that she sat on Todd’s erection and teased the bejesus out of him. Ah well, it’s all part of a woman’s armoury, thought Todd, gritting his teeth in an effort to restrain himself.

Smiling, no doubt at the effect she had had, Paradise put him in a head scissor from side on. She crossed her legs almost lazily while she squeezed with her thighs. After what she had put him through, it didn’t take her long to ask if he submitted, and she was surprised when he gave no reply. Propping herself up on both hands, she instructed him firmly to “submit now”. Like a wise man (for once), he submitted the second time.

Promise stood up and celebrated. Then, keen to get her money’s worth, she sat back down on Todd’s stomach, pinned his hands over his head and demanded he “admit defeat”.

“You won, I am the loser,” Todd consented, getting a thrill of pleasure as he admitted it. He wasn’t the only one, and Promise lingered over the hold, seemingly reluctant to let go.

But then she did get up, and posed over him, one foot on his chest. Standing as she was over him, left hand on her hip, right fist in the air, she was the personification of an Amazon, triumphing over the vanquished male. But there was more excitement to come, because she insisted he get up and put his gloves on.

*****

For some reason, Todd joined in the stretches this time, but it was a half-hearted, hesitating sort of effort. Perhaps he was mesmerised the way Promise put her glorious body through its paces for a few minutes.

They squared up in the middle, and Promise opened her account with a jab to his jaw. Todd winced in pain as her left glove struck, and his head snapped to one side. So she got him on the opposite jaw with the same fist. He retreated a step or two and put his hands up to protect his face, inadvertently inviting her to go for his stomach. She obliged, driving in a firm right body blow.

“Oof!” went Todd, partially collapsing around her glove and dropping his guard altogether. Accepting this second invitation, Promise swung her left fist into his jaw and sent him spinning. When he stopped, he was ideally positioned for her to attack the opposite jaw. She had never seen such a tempting sight, and she cracked that jaw with a full-on right cross.

Panicking, Todd grabbed her to clinch, hoping to play for time. Well yes, it did buy him a bit of time, but it also put him on the ropes. She had no trouble marching him there. When he got the familiar rough triple feeling across his back (he’d been on the ropes a lot), his dismay caused him to let go of the clinch, and she belted him low in the stomach with her left.

“Oh, that felt good!” murmured Promise. “Did it feel good for you, Todd? No? Well try another one!” She got him again in the stomach, but at a much shorter range this time.

“Oh, God!” groaned Todd, coughing and trying to absorb the pain – before she sent him along the ropes with a mighty left hook. She caught up with him and thought it would be fun to send him back again with a right uppercut. But it was such a ferocious punch that it put him down on the mat, unconscious.

“I don’t know my own strength!” thought Promise, happily celebrating this superb win, and standing over the prone, defeated male. She proceeded to count him out, declaring at 4, “Todd, I own you.” At 8, he became her “bitch”. At 10, she announced that he was out and – ominously – “MINE!”

Ominously, because when a femdom lady says that to Todd, it invariably leads to … But we’ll let her wake him up first. He came to when she put her foot on his neck for a bit more celebrating and flexing. Now began his third ordeal, and a worse one than being beaten up, first wrestling then boxing. She had one of those hideous strapons, that her type of woman seemed to carry around as other women carry handbags. (Well, you never know when you’re going to need it, do you?)

Todd expected to have to take it in the mouth first. But no, she went straight to the ultimate violation of the body. The ultimate degradation. He yelled with awful pain of it.

Then, disgustingly, revoltingly, she put it in his mouth AFTERWARDS. She seemed to derive the same pleasure that a man gets when a woman does that to him when it’s the real thing. Yes, the real thing, and not some weird contraption produced by warped imagination and creativity.

With that particular episode of endurance over, Promise kissed him and asked if he wanted to go to the next level. “Whatever you want, Goddess,” he replied. (Even if he hadn’t wanted to, it was the wise answer to give her.)

The next level turned out to be a repeat of the first one, except that she now had him on all fours, rather than still lying on his front after getting knocked out. Again, she seemed to get the same gratification from this artificial stimulation as men and women get from natural intercourse.

When she had had her pleasure, she straddle pinned him, kneeling either side of him and pinning his arms above his head. She moved up his body and seemed to threaten his mouth with the strapon, asking if he had had enough, or did he want more? Todd answered, perhaps bravely, that he had had enough “for now”. Still, he got away with it. Promise kissed him again, spun round with all the energy that she had at the beginning of the fight, and put him in a reverse head scissor.

You know what’s next Todd, don’t you? And about time, he thought, as she wound her glove around his still-erect penis. He sighed as she went to work with her hand, and it wasn’t long before she had him quaking, shuddering and exclaiming with pleasure.

Promise had one last, lingering pose over him, helped him up, then carried him out of the ring over her shoulder. Like old times indeed!