“And what is ‘my place’, please?” asked Mayu, displeased at his inadvertent offensiveness.

“I mean,” Todd tried to justify himself, clearly flustered, “our girls take the piss out of me, and think of themselves as my equal, whereas you know you’re not, so we can get along perfectly well.”

“I am not your equal,” Mayu told him, “because I am superior to you.”

“I’m sorry?” Todd asked, bewildered that he had tried to be friendly, but seemed to have ended up in an argument.

“I am superior because I know how to treat people and talk to them (even in another language), whereas you don’t.”

“Now wait a minute …”

“I’m bored with this conversation. Let us decide it in the ring.”

The receptionists were not supposed to leave the desk, except for obvious needs. But an exception was made if it was to fight Todd, or occasionally his friends Matt and Phillip. It was good for business, because the fight was always filmed and the gym went on to sell the videos to its various female members who enjoyed a good laugh. The male members knew nothing about it, of course, although even the slow Todd was puzzled as to why Mayu seemed almost to be expecting to fight him.

*****

A fiercely patriotic Chinese lady, Mayu wore a ravishing Oriental-themed leotard as she waited for the confused Todd to join her in the ring. Its light, delicate colours and petals contrasted starkly with her Chinese flag boxing gloves and red boots. She looked, as someone commented about a Hollywood actress, “mean, moody, magnificent” as she leant against the ropes in her corner, her large breasts moving noticeably with her quickened breathing in anticipation of the fight.

“Come here, I want you!” she called to Todd, when he at last joined her in the ring. He was naked, as the gym’s strange rules insisted for men. They met in the middle, and she immediately jabbed him on the jaw. It was a good, brisk opener to the action. Todd’s head swivelled in reaction, so she whipped her left arm round his neck, to headlock him.

“Here we go again,” he thought, as his face nestled next to Mayu’s left breast. In his way, he had been more intimate with women than any “Jack the lad” could boast. But it was a grim consolation as her grip restricted his breathing, and she brought him down to the mat. He was more robust in defence than usual, and the pair of them grappled and thrashed around on the mat.

But Mayu’s greater strength prevailed after a while, and she had him tucked up like a chicken ready to roast, with his left knee touching his face. The pain in his back and thigh was intense.

Todd shrieked as she heaved that same leg into the air and locked it ever further towards the horizontal. Then she bent it in a myriad different ways around his front, at different times placing stress on his knee, calf, thigh and spine.

“What’s the matter, you don’t like playing with Chinese girls?” she whispered unpleasantly in his ear, while she dragged him to a sitting position and clamped herself to his back, before bending it forwards.

From here, it was easy to thrust him face down on the mat, seize both his wrists and shove a foot on his back, to “surfboard” him. Todd yelled as her foot pushed his body forward while her hands pulled his arms back. His ribs, spine neck, shoulders and arms suffered towards breaking point.

“Give up Honey,” Mayu urged, smiling for the first time.

“I give up,” wailed Todd.

She kept the hold going, intrigued by the different shouts of agony she extracted from her victim. When she allowed him to flop down thankfully onto his front, she sat on his back and flexed for her personal satisfaction.

“It doesn’t take much to make him give up,” one of the girls had advised her on her first day. “So have another go at him for the fun of it.”

Mayu happily took the advice and rolled Todd onto his back, seeming to slice him with her flexible, powerful legs in a body scissor. He lay spread eagled on his back, unhappily astonished that such beautiful legs could cause a man such misery.

“Do you give up, honey?” Mayu laughed at his despairing expression. It seemed to be fixed on his face, and he was temporarily unable to answer while his ribs seemed to cave in under the pressure of her thighs.

But at last he found his voice and did indeed give up, begging her to stop. As Todd looked up at the female victor posing over him, his penis responded, and he sported a full-on defeat boner. Despite himself, he admired the long, tapering, shapely legs, the tight round bottom, the narrow waist and the glorious breasts of the woman who had just defeated him.

Mayu looked down derisively at him, before making him kiss her foot. Then she helped him up and asked if he was ready to box.

“Do I get a choice?” thought Todd gloomily, before answering himself, “Of course you don’t!” in the same vein. He slumped and shuffled his way to the opposite corner to Mayu, who was already excitedly shadow boxing in her corner. She threw a hook, a gut uppercut and then a chin uppercut, while her face seemed to say to him, “You’re going to get all these in a minute!”

Todd resignedly walked to the middle; Mayu ran, then halted abruptly, inviting him to hit her. He launched a furious right cross, but she batted it away, still laughing. Then, seeming to decide she had work to do, got him in the eye with her left. It was a good, rising jab, more a statement of intent than a tentative probe. There were no half measures about Mayu.

Indeed, there were double measures, because she repeated the stroke, deceiving him brilliantly by slipping to the side and then getting him backhanded. Todd, surprised and a little stunned, had no time to react or recover, before she pumped his stomach with a beefy kick. It winded him, and he coughed and staggered.

Once more going for the double, Mayu seized his neck in both hands and dragged him down into her right knee, which she propelled into the same target that she had just kicked.

Todd tried to counterattack with a left cross. Mayu saw it coming, swerved and held onto it, then thrust her left knee into his stomach AGAIN. Todd moaned in pain and despair, and she added to his misery by swinging her left glove into the same eye as before, this time blackening it. Todd could feel the skin around it swelling up, but his mind was taken off it by a full-on right cross from Mayu, straight at his mouth.

It is said that the definition of madness is doing the same thing over again, hoping for a different result. Todd wasn’t mad, just rather dim, and he put his faith in another left cross. It fared no better than the previous attempt, and Mayu crouched slightly so that it went over her shoulder, while plunging her left glove low into his stomach.

“I don’t think I can take any more of those body blows,” thought Todd. He lowered his gloves to ward off another one – and got a left cross on the chin. He recoiled from it; she followed and walloped his chin again with a left uppercut. It raised him off the mat for a second or two. When he came back down, he took a hefty right cross on the chin. Lowering his gloves was probably the gravest mistake he made that whole year, in an admittedly crowded list. She was battering him so intensely that the only thing that still seemed to be alive about him was his rampant defeat boner.

Nor did it end there, because Mayu now swept her left glove in an expansive arc to land – for a fourth consecutive time – on his chin. It was such a powerful hook that it spun him half-round comically, and it was touch and go whether he would stay on his feet. Yet stay on his feet he did – but for what? So that she could put him down with a right uppercut? Because that’s what happened. Still, it was the most dramatic way for Mayu to do it, and the footage of it is first class, bringing the fight to its climactic conclusion.

But she didn’t really want it to end just then and urged Todd to “get up and fight like a man”. She glared at him while she stood over him – adrenalin pumping and obviously still full of fight – and he made an effort to get to his hands and knees. But then he gave up. He sank back down, routed rather than defeated.

Calming down, Mayu pocketed the win and celebrated, posing over him, before proceeding to count him out. At 7, she asked, “Do you love me, Todd?” Silence! At 10, she announced that he was her “bitch”. She did a victory dance around him, before posing and flexing for the cameras some more.

Then came the dreaded strap on. He knew what was expected of him so, on his knees now, he complied. Seemingly, though, he didn’t do it very well (perhaps she expected him to recite a poem at the same time, or something) and she angrily made him stand up. She punched him in the stomach to “encourage” him to do it better. Luckily for him, his second go was much more satisfactory.

“Have you had enough, honey?” she asked after some minutes of his ordeal, and he replied that he had.

Actually, it didn’t turn out to be as bad as he expected, because she didn’t progress it to the next stage, which they usually did. Instead, she straddled him while he was on his back, telling him to admit defeat, and calling him “Babe”. He did, readily, and she happily wallowed in victory, smiling broadly while she flexed over the vanquished male.