You Get What You Wanted by Valerie A club fighter details her dismantling of a cocky tough guy As soon as you climb into the ring to challenge me, I know what you want. You figure you can prove how tough you are by beating a woman in a match and then getting to play with her chest as a boobie prize, so to speak. That's what I love about 'challenge night' at "The Queen's Dungeon", the underground women's fight club where I'm one of the star attractions. At six feet and 200 well-muscled pounds, you are at the upper limit of male challengers that I am allowed to fight. Weight class/divisions are one of the few rules that the club has. Those who run the club know that their customers love nothing better than seeing a beautiful, sexy woman, such as myself, wipe the mat with muscle heads like you. So when you climb into the ring, staring at my breasts, I know I have another opportunity to give the crowd their money's worth. Like most twits that I face, you come up to me flexing your muscles, actually believing that you can intimidate me. Muscles or not, my martial arts training has taught me all the places where I can inflict pain and control you for as long as I want before knocking you out. "Oh my," I say in mock fear. "Look at how big you are. What am I going to do with you?" "The only issue, you dumb bitch, is what I'm going to do with you when I'm finished messing you up." What a clever comback. Pleased at hearing your bravado, I urge you on saying, "Don't wait all day, lover" and stick out my chest toward you. With all the overconfidence you are showing, it is not a surprise when you throw a looping right at my head. It is easy to avoid. I also easily duck your left. Seeing you confused and annoyed, I come a bit closer and smile. "Is that the best you can do? I thought I'd get more from a super built man like you." With a snarl you lunge at me, but I quickly step aside as you continue on to the ropes. Once there, you brace yourself then turn around. Before you can even think of your next move, my right leg shoots up and in a lightning double move, my foot connects with your left shoulder, then the top of your head knocking you down. The surprise and shock on your face at my speed and strength let me know just how much fun I am about to have. Knocking you down so easily makes you much less sure of yourself. You move along the ropes to the right to keep your distance and then start to circle around to your right. I wait until you put your hands up and take a fighter's stance. I put my arms out and signal for you to come closer. As you cautiously approach, I let my hands fall down to my side. Thinking that the first blow may have been a lucky shot, you slowly come forward into range. When nothing happens, you throw a tentative left jab at my head. When I fail to react, you come a little closer to try again. Just as you start to throw another left jab, I stoop down and drive two thundering uppercuts, left-right, into your bellybutton. You bend over with a loud grunt, your arms wrapped around your midsection. My spinning back kick with my right leg catches you on the right shoulder and knocks you to the mat on your left side. Stunned, you forget all about protecting yourself as you begin to get up. I walk over and kick you right in the middle of your chest with my right foot, flipping you onto your back. Groaning in pain, you slowly roll over onto your stomach and crawl to the ropes. I wait until you are upright and then with both hands start drilling short rapid punches into your kidneys. Your body stiffens with pain. When you slump forward against the ropes, I stop. With my right leg, I sweep both your feet and you crash to the mat on your right side. I wait patiently while you slowly get to all fours and pull yourself along the low ropes toward the corner to your right. You slowly get to your feet and turn as quickly as you can so that you can see where I am. I walk slowly toward you as you straighten up trying to figure out what to do next. You throw a looping right punch that I easily block with my left and drive my own right up into your solar plexus. The air loudly rushes out of your lungs as you double over. My left knee comes up twice into your chest and knocks you back into the corner against the ringpost. Your arms flail back over the top ropes. As your knees buckle, you tightly grab the ropes on either side to prevent yourself from falling to the mat. Seeing you in that position is like an invitation that I simply cannot refuse. I move in and begin to work over your midsection with both hands. Your solar plexus, abs, bellybutton, liver, ribs and obliques are all used as targets. I throw jabs, hooks and uppercuts as punches and spears. With your back against the ringpost, you have to absorb all that punishment without allowing your body to give with any of the blows. When you bend forward, a forearm or knee to the chest straightens you up. Blow after blow with speed and great force rain in on your body. Your rock-hard abs begin to soften under my relentless assalt causing the pain to spread deeper into your body as the blows penetrate. As your facial expression goes from intense pain to slack-jawed agony, I send kicks up to each side of your body causing you to bend one way, then the other. A snap kick to your abs brings one hand down to try and protect your midsection. I reach up, grab the other hand, spin and flip you over my back to the mat. Spread-eagled on your back, you are completely defenceless as I jump into the air and deliver an elbow drop right to your bellybutton. Your body jack-knifes as you let out a loud, long groan of pain. Before you collapse back onto the mat, I slip my left leg under your back, drop my right leg across your gut, cross my ankles and start to squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeze. "Having a super body hasn't done you much good," I tease. "I thought it would take a lot longer to get to this point, but I guess you're not the man of steel you thought you were." With only moans and groans as replies, I continue to squeeze and increase the pressure, my long, thick, firm thighs glistening with sweat. Seeing that your struggles are becoming less, I ease off slightly, When a bit of relief comes into your face, I suddenly tighten the scissors to a greater degree than I had before. I continue to play with you that way for several minutes until you are semiconscious, then release the scissors altogether. I reach down and grab you by the hair and pull you to your feet. I turn your back towards the ropes and push you into them. As you bounce back to me, I drive my left fist into your guts. You grunt and fall to the mat. I repeat the move, this time punching you with my right fist. The next three times, I give you a backhand chop to the chest as you come stumbling off the ropes, knocking you down each time. The final time, I kick you in the solar plexus, then watch you drop to the mat in a breathless daze. I use my feet to roll you over onto your back, then jump up into the air and have my perfect ass come down first right on your gut. Now I figure it is time to give you what you really want. I crawl over your bruised and battered body until my breasts are over your face. I then lower my full mounds over my face until your mouth and nose are completely covered. As your feeble mind suddenly realizes it is being starved for oxygen, your body begins to wiggle and squirm underneath mine. I can also feel your face moving back and forth between my breasts as you desparately try to get air. Your movements, especially your face against my boobs, send waves of electricity through my body. I am very disappointed when after only a few minutes of struggle, those movements cease. I raise myself up slightly and watch as the referee raises your hand three times, each time letting it fall back to the mat. After it lands the third time, I reluctantly sit up so that my hand can be held up high in victory. I sit on your abs that I took so much pleasure in pounding, and look down at your unconscious form, as the crowd cheers wildly. I smile as I quickly review all the action in my mind, especially the ending. It would be so nice though, if I could find a man with a bit more staying power.