Punched Out
I have always been attracted to tough women, and had a fetish for losing a fight to a stronger woman. A scare with cancer made me realize that I had better try to experience it before it was too late. I decided to try boxing a strongwoman who was visiting my city who had advertised that she would wrestle and box with men. She was about 5’6” and 160 lbs, so she was a good match for me—a little shorter than I and a bit heavier.
We met in her hotel room. She answered the door in a bikini, which was a little distracting. She was very athletic looking, muscular, but not a bodybuilder physique with the striated muscles and dangerously low bodyfat. She had a sleek look to her, with a flat chest and thick upper arms, her thighs quite muscular and bigger than mine by a fair bit. She looked strong.
She was a redhead, with thick hair worn shoulder length. She had green eyes, a long nose that came to a point, and a broad smile, with an angled jaw and a pointed chin. We shook hands as we introduced ourselves. Her grip was firm and her attitude was friendly and confident. We discussed the rules of the contest before we began. I was put at ease by her casual approach to this, and she seemed to be looking forward to our fight.
The bed was pushed up against the wall and a chair and desk were pushed to the opposite window, to make room for rubber interlocking mats that she had laid down. We put on our gloves. She wore black 8 ounce boxing gloves, and she had a pair of red 8 ounce gloves for me.
The second we started, her smile vanished and her expression became very hard and cold. She was all business, professional, and was concentrating on punching me from her first step forward. She fought more like a tough street brawler than a technical boxer, leading with her right and throwing fast punches at my head in combinations. She started landing blows immediately. I felt her left hook on the back of my head behind my raised right guard, and as I ducked forward from it a straight right met my chin. It was a hard punch but my head didn’t snap back. I had no time to be surprised or hurt, as she was still landing punches with dizzying speed. A lot of her punches hit my guard or glanced off the sides and back and even the top of my head, but quite a few punches got through.
I backed away from her but she chased me and tagged my face with a right to the nose right through my raised gloves. She hit my left eye with a big right hand, and I had to shut it and didn’t see the next punch coming. She hit my right eye with a left hook. I was already hurt, and only a few minutes had gone by.
When I backed away again, I knew enough to keep my hands high and ready. I was blocking most of her punches, but she was very fast and aggressive. She looked angry now, with a fiery fury in her eyes, and she grimaced and grunted when she threw her hard punches. Her combinations were a little wild and she tended to throw a lot of hooks and overhand punches, leaving herself open, but I didn’t dare to let down my guard to hit her. She caught me on the face several times.
I was backing away from her—she was still fighting southpaw, with overhand rights and right hooks, and the left held back by her chin. I opened up my guard to block a right hook, and she nailed me with a straight left to the mouth. My head snapped back and bounced forward. Her right came in between my gloves, straight into my face. I bounced back and forward again, into another right. I saw her gloves as they shot forward between mine. I was stuck, stunned for a second by each punch, a stationary target for her to hit. Again, again, again, she hit me with straight rights and left jabs to the mouth. The right punches were really solid-- the lefts were keeping me stunned, but the rights were hurting me. My head kept going back and forth, and my brain felt like it was being shaken inside my skull. Like a wet load of sand being shaken in a jar.
I was hurt and winded after only four or five fast minutes.
I tried to hold her in a clinch, hoping to catch my breath. I held her around her back, my arms over her arms, elbows locked around her triceps. I thought she would try to hit my stomach, and I tightened my stomach muscles, anticipating a hard punch. I held on to her shoulders, her shoulders were as broad as mine, and very hard. Her gloves were between us, under my arms, and she tensed to punch my stomach, her shoulder muscles bulged, showing she was ready to punch. My head was over her right shoulder, and I thought about how hard her shoulders were, and how strong her arms were, and just how hard she was about to punch me. This took place in less than a second, and she tensed her arms, shot her fists both up between us to my chest, and shoved me backwards instead of punching me. I wasn’t ready for that: She had broken my grasp around her back easily, handling me with a burst of strength, and I went reeling backwards. I hit the bed with the backs of my legs, and fell backwards over it.
I got back up to my feet quickly, surprised at her strength. She had enough power in her arms to break my grasp and heave me backwards, pushing my full weight, throwing me away from her and sending me stumbling across the room. She didn’t hesitate or think before she did it, she had that much power and confidence in her strength. She knew she could overpower me. She stepped forward as I steadied my stance, pausing between her show of strength and her next attack.
I stepped forward away from the bed, and she left enough room for me to advance and step to my right, as if she didn’t want to knock me backward over the bed again. It wasn’t sporting. My hands were up and I was moving my upper body from side to side, to keep from being a stationary target. I was afraid of what she would do next, and she could see it. She moved closer to get me in range, and threw a straight right at my guard, knocking my left glove into my face, and followed it quickly with an overhand left that came in so fast it was almost simultaneous. She got it in over my right, which had been low, protecting my jaw. She hit the side of my head, in the upper jaw. My head snapped to the left. My defence was slowed slightly by her punch, and my left hand was in front of my face still close to my mouth. She hit me suddenly, very hard, with a solid right hook to the side of my face. All of her weight was behind her punch, as she twisted to her left, her weight back on her left foot. I felt a hollow feeling in my mouth as she connected. My jaw rattled. It was a perfect knockout punch, fast and full force, and my head snapped to the right. I was in serious trouble.
My vision was crisp. I was focused completely on her. She was standing with her right glove lower than her shoulder, and her left was still high. Her right foot was forward and she seemed about to throw the right again. I was aware of her leaning forward onto her right foot, and saw her right arm muscles tensing as she prepared to punch me again, but I wasn’t able to move. My gloves were too high, too far in front of me, but I couldn’t pull them in and tighten my arms for the blow. My hands felt weak, and my arms were not strong enough to block her punches. My head had bounced back into the perfect position for her to finish me off. I was out on my feet, perfectly conscious of what was happening but immobilized by the impact. My hands sagged a tiny bit, and I was waiting to be punched out. If there had been a referee there, he would have stepped between us and started a standing eight count.
She paused in her attack. Seconds went by as I tried to make my body return to being under control. I was looking at her as she paused, struggling to make myself move, completely clear and waiting for my strength to return so I could tighten my arms and legs to defend myself against what was about to happen. I don’t know why she paused, as she had shown herself to be ferocious in her attacks, dedicated to disarming me and savouring her dominance over me. Was she relishing the moment, knowing it was inevitable that she would knock me out? Was she pausing to allow me a few seconds to collect myself, before she began to punch me again? Was she going to let me back into the fight, to prolong her experience of defeating me? She smiled slightly.
She closed on me quickly as I was still paralyzed. She threw her right arm around my neck, colliding her full weight against my chest, and threw me over her hip, landing on top of me on the mat. She knocked the wind right out of me, throwing her 160 pounds right onto my open, defenceless, body. “Ugh,” I grunted as the air left my lungs. She jumped up to her feet quickly, then dropped back down on me, landing with her full weight on my lower ribs. “Uhhhh,” was the only noise I could make, as the air came out of me for the second time. She sat up on my lower chest, not bothering to pin my arms with her legs. She knew I was helpless. My arms were open, my legs were bent and my knees were spread out with my feet pointed back inwards. She looked down at me and smiled.
Her expression was triumphant. She held my eyes with hers. Her eyes looked at mine, and I could tell she was asking me a question. She was asking me if she should continue. She nodded slightly, smiling, asking “Yes?” without speaking, just asking with that little nod, and the smile, and that triumphant look in her eyes. I nodded, wordlessly agreeing that she should continue, giving her my permission to finish what she had started. She threw a right, landing it hard on my left cheek, and my head was now looking towards my right. Her left glove smacked hard on my face, and I was facing left, but I was looking at her, my eyes held by hers. She hit me with the right again. I don’t remember where my head was. Again, again, again, left, then right, from above. I was not just helpless and dizzy, unable to defend myself. I was beaten completely and thoroughly, barely conscious, and about to be knocked out. “Huh? Bitch?” She asked me.
“Stop,” I begged weakly. “I submit.” I was barely able to speak, but I saved myself a further pounding by giving up. “You knocked me out,” I said. She raised her weight off me, but didn’t get off me completely. She was up on her left knee, with her right thigh still heavy on my chest. My arms were weak, my legs were spread open, I was helpless to move her leg off me. She took off her boxing gloves slowly. She moved upwards on my body until her knees were on either side of my head. She pulled my head up high between her thighs, and started to squeeze.
She put on more pressure, slowly squeezing tighter and tighter. Her legs were really big, with thick muscles that covered my ears, nose and mouth. I was stunned by how strong she was. I was still weak, unable to struggle against her powerful thigh muscles, as she squeezed my head, cutting off all air. I moved my hands to her thighs, but was helpless. My boxing gloves were still on, and she wouldn’t notice if I tried to punch her thighs. She wouldn’t even feel it. I was so weak from the beating she’d given me. I was out of air, and was feeling a little euphoric, but was afraid she would knock me out. I tapped twice on her thigh, and she released the pressure enough so that I could breathe.
She lowered herself onto her left side, with my head still trapped between her thighs. She pulled my head up with both hands, so that my nose was free of her thighs. I was on my right side, with my left glove still lying on her right thigh. I was looking up at her face. She was smiling. She didn’t look sadistic or distant and uncaring, she looked like she was happy and triumphant. She started to squeeze again. I could breathe, but she kept adding more pressure with her thighs. She was really strong, and I doubt that I could have broken her hold even if I was fresh and not wearing gloves. As it was, I decided I would just have to endure as much as I could. My eyes were not obstructed, I could still see her expression: She was pleased to be stronger than me, honestly enjoying her superiority. She increased the pressure. My vision started to fade, the room began to get dark, until it was black and I saw yellow sparks flying around in the darkness. I managed to tap her leg again and she released me before I passed out.
She lay on her back, and pulled me up to face her. “You’re like a rag doll.” She put her gloves back on, and put her left arm around my neck, holding my head up. My right glove was under her left shoulder, and my left arm was around her under her raised right arm. I embraced her weakly. She punched me. She punched me in the mouth again and again with her right hand, holding me in place. Her punches were not full force now, as she was lying on her left shoulder, and was punching me with just her hand, not her body. She punched me time and again, holding me helpless.
“Please…. Stop.” I begged her weakly. She lowered my head to her shoulder. I rested there. I lay on her shoulder, thinking how strong she was and how completely she had dominated me. It was a very peaceful feeling. And then it was time to leave.
