He actually became quite fond of her. It wasn’t because of her spectacular large breasts and glorious, generous round bottom (he told himself); it was her gentle ways. She was competent at her job, but modest with it. In return, Todd resolved not to indulge in his usual jibes and stupid jokes. He behaved with consideration, tact and encouragement towards his junior colleague, and she responded well.

After a few weeks, he asked her out for a drink. It went very well, so he proposed dinner the following Saturday evening. That went even better, because she invited him to her house the Saturday after. At last, he thought, he was dating a normal young woman without any fighting or anything weird.

On the Friday after work, he got home, had a meal, then sat in an armchair contemplating the following evening. She had hinted that she was a good cook, and said she had a surprise in store for him. Lasagne, perhaps, curry, chilli? Then she might put on a bit of music, offer him some wine, sit next to him on the sofa …

*****

“Not again!” Todd thought bitterly, when the “surprise” turned out to be a basement gym with a ring. Yes, she wanted to fight; and yes, she required him to be naked. So while he “changed”, she leant in a corner and waited.

Although he cursed the turn of events, he had to admit to himself that she looked like a sex goddess in that corner. Her tight, figure-hugging leotard matched her hair – but that was the least noticeable thing about it. It was her magnificent breasts that it seemed to boast about; with large, prominent nipples pointing through it in excited anticipation of the fight. Neat red boots and vivid pink boxing gloves completed the striking picture.

Todd entered the ring and stood in the corner opposite. Jessica marched to the middle, he joined her, and she instantly opened her account with a left jab, which buzzed into his ear. Not surprised to find him to be a weak opponent, noticeably disconcerted by her opening punch, she got him with a harder one to the jaw.

He stumbled, so she was on him instantly, whipping her arms around his neck. For good measure, she included his left arm within the headlock, rendering it useless, while she hauled him about, bringing him down using the headlock. For wrestling purists, she maintained the lock, merely swapping the arm she included in it. Then switching again, working him so that he faced upwards, hovering over the mat.

“Didn’t expect this, did you Todd?” she whispered in his ear, so softly it wasn’t picked up on the footage. Supporting herself on her right hand, she used her left shoulder to push his left arm further into the hold she had around his neck in her left arm, then continued, “I’m supposed to be the nice, neat nightingale of your imagination, aren’t I? But I’m not in the office now, so you can experience the other side of me.”

Jessica let him drop to the mat. Lying to his side, there was now no need to lock his near arm in with his neck, because she lay on it instead, so she could concentrate on reinforcing her grip of his neck. It was ridiculous, but even with the extreme pressure she was putting on it, Todd noticed how much her breasts wobbled with her efforts. His right eye was inches away from her left nipple, which seemed to be pointing right at him.

Rolling him onto his stomach, she put him in a cross face. Securing his near, left arm in her thighs, she hauled his face upwards with her gloves. How did such a sweet girl learn all this rough stuff, thought Todd. Was she, in fact, the sweet girl she pretended to be in the office at all?

Now lying above him, with those hard nipples digging into his back, she wrenched both his arms behind him, first one then the other, into a chicken wing.

“I SUBMIT,” yelled Todd, as searing pain shot from his chest down to his elbow and then to his fingertips.

Jessica gave her “sweet girl” smile, then stood and flexed over him, one shiny red boot on the side of his face.

Thud! The other red boot hit him high on his back just as she pulled him towards her by his wrists, as she mockingly sang, “A life on the ocean wave … come on Todd, join in!” He didn’t dare give her the answer he had in his mind, as she seemed to be wrenching his arms from their sockets, while pushing his back in the other direction with her foot.

No, the answer he gave her was, “I SUBMIT.”

Jessica gave him one last shove and heave before allowing him to drop onto his stomach. Then she sat on the small of his back and flexed in celebration.

But she wasn’t one to linger over posing for long, and she rolled him onto his side. Holding him by the neck from behind, she snaked her legs around his middle, then snapped them shut in a scissor.

“You’ve been staring at my tits so much, you didn’t notice how strong my legs can be, did you, Todd?” she accused, whispering, “So you can feel them instead, like THIS.”

He groaned as he felt the pressure building momentum on his ribcage. Yes, those thighs were certainly very strong, and he began to wonder if they would crush his ribs. Did he just hear one crack?

Jessica used her legs to lever him onto his back, so she could see the effect of the scissor on his face. Grabbing his near, right arm by the wrist, in case he got any ideas, she chuckled as Todd winced, grimaced and moaned his way through her onslaught. At the same time, his old fetish for getting beaten up by a sexy woman came roaring back, after he had been trying so hard to suppress it. Seemingly, Jessica seemed to like being the one to beat him up, freely admitting, “I’m turned on,” while she put him through his paces. Perhaps she had noticed his huge defeat boner before turning to face him.

“I SUBMIT, Todd roared.

“I love this,” sighed Jessica, squeezing ever harder with her thighs, making him shout in pain and beg her to stop.

Then she suddenly jumped up, raised her arms in triumph, and once again went straight back to “work”. Seeing Todd attempting to get up, she ensnared his neck in a standing head scissor before he had even got to his knees. Squatting slightly to use her thighs where they were strongest, she attacked his neck in the same way she had recently punished his middle. Showing an evil sense of humour, she proceeded to walk him around the ring, like a dog on a lead. His knees scraped along the mat with each step she took.

Pulling him up to his knees, she next allowed him to drop onto his back, but kept up with him and never let go of the scissor. Supporting herself on her hands, she faced upwards, having modified the hold into a front head scissor. Once again, suffering though he was, Todd couldn’t help admiring her Marilyn Monroe type of figure. Through eyes slanted in a rictus of pain, he took in her broad hips, then the urgent way her figure nipped in at her waist, to those breasts that he longed to feel and give a little squeeze.

At the same time, she was doing him unbearable damage, and it had to stop. “I SUBMIT,” he implored once again.

“Pussy,” she replied chuckling, while keeping the hold going just a little longer for the hell of it.

But she did let go soon, and stood astride him, hands on hips, the all-conquering female looking down at the vanquished male. Once again, though, she was keen to get onto the next thing, namely his huge erection, which she sat on while she flexed in triumph.

Moving up his body, she pinned his wrists above his head, asking, “Do you admit defeat, pussy?”, which he did willingly, eagerly.

Keeping the pin going, she counted him out, then stood and posed over him, for once taking her time to savour it. It still wasn’t long enough for Todd, who could have done with a few weeks to recover, bearing in mind what she had done to his ribs. He groaned underneath the foot on his face when he heard her demand, “Boxing match NOW.”

“She’s not normal,” he thought, as she eagerly went to her corner and started warming up enthusiastically. “Look at her, she’s loving it,” he continued thinking in the same vein as she started shadow boxing, while he rested his hands on his knees, taking deep breaths to try to get over the scissoring. She smiled over to him, as if to say, “You’re going to be on the end of one of these punches in a minute!”

She ran over to him, like a child told to help himself in a sweet shop. Then she stood and stretched her arms out, inviting him to hit her. Todd, still with a full erection, tore his eyes away from her breasts and struck out with a right. Laughing, Jessica skipped out of its path, before showing him how it was done with her left ploughing into his eye.

Breasts swinging with her movements, she thrust her right glove at his jaw, forcing him back a step. She loved everything about this fight: the way Todd screwed up his face when she hit him and the little cry he gave; the fact that she had a man in retreat; and the sound her glove made when it landed on her male opponent’s face.

Todd, hating everything about this fight, swung a desperate right at Jessica. But she leant back expertly so it “whooshed” past her, and hooked her left glove in at his ribcage, so tender after what her thighs had done to it.

Encouraged by the effect of that body blow, Jessica headlocked him and drove her right knee up into his stomach. Yes, body blows were definitely more telling, she realised, grabbing his head in both hands and powering her left knee into his chest. She had made him temporarily helpless, so she pressed home her advantage, put both arms around his middle in a bear hug, lifted, then threw him.

Todd landed on his stomach, while Jessica, panting slightly with the exertion and excitement, had a little rest while she stood beside him and gloated. She waited for him to get up, then they both adopted fighting stances and circled.

Todd decided he wasn’t going to be caught out this time. Previously, he had fallen into Jessica’s trap, he concluded, by going for the fist strike and leaving himself wide open. No, she could make the first move now.

Okay then. One pink glove sailed into his eye, blackening it. It was a beautiful punch. Squatting slightly, she caught him with a rising left cross. The footage caught Jessica’s spectacular rear view in full glory, with the woman stretched to her utmost in mid-punch. The man fell away at the end of her strike, his right eye a grotesque black.

She had dazed him. She had leisure to pick her next target, and she broadside kicked him in his middle with her right foot, while her right glove made quite a good job of his right ear. He stood, zombie-like, incapable of further resistance. So she put him into a clinch and worked him over to the ropes.

What she did to him there amounted to a masterclass in sealing a victory. Her left glove entered his stomach like a cannonball. She hit him so low that she got him on his erect cock too. His gloves went down in despair and agony. Laughing, because she had her man just how she wanted him, she fired an orthodox, devastating left cross to his jaw.

Todd fell back into the ropes, which seemed to complain at their burden, before rejecting it and pushing him back. He dropped to the mat, unconscious. Jessica thrust her arms into the air in triumph – well she might, too! She had fought magnificently.

She had to count him out, of course. She got all the way to 10 without commentating, but then declared she was the “sexy winner”. Who could argue with either of those claims? She stood over him in traditional victory poses, wallowing in the defeat of a male by a female.

When Todd came round, she put him into a straddle pin and stared into his eyes. Then she sank down onto him and breast smothered him. (Whether she intended it or not, he found this to be a bit of a treat, even if it was a bit hot and he could only take shallow breaths.)

“Admit defeat,” she insisted.

“Jessica beat me up,” he complied in muffled tones because his face was devoured by those superb breasts.

Delighted, Jessica picked him up and placed him on her right shoulder, the wrong way up for a fireman’s lift. She carried him out of the ring and into a (unisex?) changing room. Sitting on a bench, she put him over her knees and began to wallop his backside.

“Have you had enough?” she demanded, after she had smacked it until it felt as if he had been stung by a wasp.

“Yes,” he told her, worshipping her legs, because he thought it was the grovelling sort of thing he ought to do.

She stood over him, hands on hips, staring at the defeated man. Then in undertone, she said softly, but with menace, “If you’ve made me burn the lasagne, you’ll be in for far worse!”

Oh, so it was going to be Lasagne, then … what? Todd woke up, shivering in the armchair. It was nearly 2 am.