The Pugilists (Lowblow emma X Freddylee23)

[Freddylee23]

A clenched scraped knuckle struck him right in the jaw, right at the edge of his shaven beard and the spot blossomed in pain. He didn't keep his guard up and paid for it dearly. The crowd that surrounded the ring roared. He staggered back at the sheer force of the blow, his eyes losing and regaining focus. It was hard to tell which round they were in after countless hard knocks to the head. He was losing the fight badly and barely clinging onto the ropes until the bell saved him.

Each man went to his own corner, attended by a second and a bottle-holder. The battered man sat. His chest was heavily covered with a sheen of sweat that glistened between thick, dark chest hairs. The crowded sporting houses didn’t exactly give him any room to breathe nor think properly. "Look at me! Look at me!” The second lightly slaps him, yelling at him, “What the bloody hell are you doing out there?! You left yourself wide open there!" said the second with a thick Irish brogue as he dabbed the fighter's bruised forehead with a sponge. His left eye was swollen, nose busted and he needed to kill the pain with something strong. His left hand snatched the whiskey bottle from the hand of one unsuspecting ringside audience and finished the remaining whiskey with one gulp.

George “The Butchered” Buford was the son of an Englishman and his Irish mother. Previously, in his early and late 20s, he was known as “The Butcher” with his ham-sized fists butchering his opponents but lately, it was the other way around, hence the nickname. His parents gave him a life of struggle. He had grown up in rural Ireland before their parents moved him and his three younger brothers to London after the potato blight had ravaged yet another family crop. He worked in a mill until he joined the army in the Crimean War. He was a tall, burly nineteen-year-old man with broad shoulders and strong muscles from years of hard labor by the time he joined the army. A perfect image for a foot soldier but once the war had ended he went back to the hard-scrabble life of the Victorian working class.

Working odd jobs at the docks gave him an opportunity at the prize ring, he quickly rose to fame with his ability to keep fights from dragging out but his meteoric rise soon came crashing down on him when booze and women entered his life. Here he was, fighting in a lowly sporting house with the crowds that were generally lower class men who reeked of cheap whiskey and sweat from a hard day's labor. His opponent, a boy young enough to deliver newspapers but his agility & technique outclassed him.

Thirty seconds of the interval went by quickly and he had only 8 seconds to walk to the center of the ring or would be deemed unable to continue the fight. Despite the beatings he took, George really wanted to get back into the action. He wanted his sore knuckles to wipe the smug off the boy’s face. He wanted to strike him. He wanted to make him hurt badly so he would think twice to enter the prize ring again. However, the youngster wouldn’t let him get his wish. As George swung left and wide, the “boy” ducked down and he sent him a devastating uppercut to the gut that sent him reeling. The force and momentum behind the punch caused The Butchered to fall to his hands and knees and vomit the whiskey he had just gulped during the interval. His breathing was restricted and it didn’t take long when darkness consumed him. That was it…no amount of smelling salts could wake him up to make it to the center of the ring in less than 40 seconds.

Two weeks past the humiliating defeat, he was surprised to receive a visit from a Lord. It was strange that a Lord would come all the way to his humble home only to offer him a fight. Once he looked at the contract offered to him, he simply couldn’t believe his eyes. It would be a “professional” bare knuckle boxing match against the opposite sex. He read and reread the contract again to make sure he didn’t read it wrong. The Lord had an extremely serious look on his face while he did so. He had never once fought someone with tits before, especially someone he didn’t know. He considered this to be a humiliating offer but he nearly salivated upon learning the amount both for the winner and loser.

He went on to sign the contract immediately.

The fight was scheduled to take place in an amphitheater in East Side London about a month after the initial proposal. There were men in nice jackets and polished leather shoes, a huge difference compared to the men in those sporting houses. There was a lot of money riding on these fights and it was constantly changing hands. Some bet on the final outcomes as judged by the referees. Odds were created by the book-makers and official wagers were paid out at the end of the fight. Betting with one another was also common on the ringside. Some bet on how long the fight would last, how many rounds the opponents would last. Others bet on who would cause 'first blood’.

A worn out trench coat served as his cover up during the preliminaries, giving glimpses of his oiled up impressive muscles and beige tight pantaloons. The ring itself was made out of old wood. The wood was so old that it released rickety noise with every step he made. The ropes also looked loose enough to withstand his weight if he even found himself cornered and there was no elevation nor boundaries that allowed the ringsiders to stand really close to the action. He waited restlessly in his corner, hoping the Lord wasn’t foolish enough to let in a woman half his size that he could easily pummel to death.

 

[lowblow emma]

Emma stood in front of the mirror and stretched, her legs spread, her arms over her head; she was glad to be free of the confines and inconveniences of the long skirt and petticoats, tight blouses and high buttoned collars that polite society required her to wear. This was when she was most comfortable, naked and able to feel the air on every inch of her body.



'You should treat yourself to a new pair, it's not like you can't afford it.' That was Annie, Emma's former nanny and now one of her supporters, her bottle carrier. She was holding the pantaloons that Emma would wear, the only thing that she would wear, for the contest. Over the years, they had shrunk from washing as she has become more muscular. 'They barely half way decent.' Annie was right, but that was why Emma wore. They were like a second skin to her. It was as if she was naked in the ring, just as she was now in the small room allocated to her by the Lord.



'Make sure you piss before you put them on.' That was Charlotte, known to friends as Charlie. A former fighter and now Emma's trainer and other supporter at the contest. Emma laughed. 'Can't you smell it?' She nodded towards the chamber pot in the corner of the room. 'That was half an hour ago. Make sure you're empty before we go into the ring.' This was good advice. In one of her early fights, she had caught her female opponent on the bladder and the woman had pissed herself on the spot.



'I'll squat just as they call for me. Make them wait, it will build up the tension.' The other women grinned. 'Meanwhile, you can oil me while I think.'



It was Charlie who reached for the bottle of oil and began a slow massage over Emma's shoulders, arms, back, stomach and, finally, her breasts. She never went below the waist although Emma suspected that she would like to.



As the oil flowed over her white flesh and Charlie's hands spread it to highlight her muscles, Emma thought back to the first man she had hit. More a boy than a man. He was now a magistrate, a wealthy mine owner and a director of a railway company, both built on his family's estate. But long ago, when Emma was a girl, he had been the son of the magnate who owned the estate and lorded it over the neighbourhood. John, that was the son's name, had caught her by surprise in a barn. She had expected him to reprimand her or threaten to tell his father, but he didn't. Instead, he had looked at her in a way she had never experienced before, and then he had dropped his trousers.



Annie had told Emma about what men and women did, so Emma was not surprised at the sight of a naked man. But she was surprised at what she saw. The erection that protruded from John's crotch was so small that she could easily have held it in her small hand. She had stared and finally, not knowing quite what she was supposed to do, she had burst out laughing. 'Is that it?' she had finally manage to splutter. 'Is that all there is?'



John's face had changed then and this time she understood what he intended. As he had approached her, she bunched her fist and, as soon as he was in range, she lashed out at his face. She felt a satisfying crunch as she made contact with his nose, and heard a howl. He stood stunned for a moment, blood flowing from his nose, before running from the barn, tripping and stumbling over his trousers.



'You should have kicked him in the bollocks,' Annie had told her when she heard what had happened. Then she explained what the effect would have been.



Charlie was now working on the hard muscles of Emma's stomach and Emma began to think about the fight ahead. It had taken her, and the other top women fighters, a long time to persuade the Lord to arrange this match. The women had been motivated by the need to prove themselves equal to the men and the Lord had been courteous enough to smile and agree. They knew, though, that he was interested in the spectacle and the money, not any silly feminine ideas that women might in some way be equal to men.



What did that mean for the fight? He wouldn't put her up against any of the best of the men. None of them would want to risk being made fools of, however confident they were of their superior strength. But nor would the Lord put up an over-the-hill fighter who would go down at the first blow. No, he would have chosen someone who could put up a good fight but was open to persuasion by a decent purse, a much bigger purse than the one she would receive if she won. Probably someone past his peak. Yes, that was who she would have to fight.



A fist pounded her door and a gruff voice called out to her that it was time for her entrance. She squatted on the pot, then allowed Annie to help her into the pantaloons, pulling them up her heavy thighs and easing them over the rock hard buttocks. Charlie held the short red jacket that Emma would wear for her work to the ring.



Charlie had buttoned the jacket, but as the three women followed their guide to the ring, Emma slyly unfastened them.

 

[Freddylee23]

The air was thick with smoke from the pipes of the wealthy gentlemen spectating the first of Battle of the Sexes. While men and women have engaged in combat in the past, none of them were officially recorded. This match would go down in history as the first and official mixed bare knuckle boxing match whether it would turn out ugly or not.

George’s stomach was filled with butterflies anticipating his opponent. Never once the Lord nor the officials mention her name. There were no fight posters either yet the whole amphitheater was filled with eager crowds. It was peculiar to say the least.

“A small reminder, even if the one standing in front of you is the most beautiful lass with the most beautiful tits you’ve ever seen, you’re going to send her to hell no matter what” said John, George’s childhood friend who also happened to be George’s boxing “coach”. He stopped boxing right after his last opponent partially blinded his eyes. “I’m still figuring out which lass is crazy enough to step into the ring against a man. Lasses should be at home serving their husbands” Kane said in his thick Irish accent. Kane was a recent acquaintance. He was an adept cutman and bottle holder, the right man to bring in any fights.

“Don’t worry, I’ll really knock her shit….” George was facing his friend when he convinced them that he wouldn’t hold back before his attention turned to the opposite corner when he felt someone new entered the ring. All three of them gawked, Kane’s jaw almost dropped when they looked at the girl in the short red jacket. The unbuttoned jacket allowed a generous amount of her cleavage and abs to be seen. The pantaloons that have shrunk from countless times of washing cling to her like a second skin, complementing her hard lower muscles and buttocks.

A mustachioed man dressed in a very gentleman outfit made his entry after the woman. He elegantly walked towards her corner to begin the pre-fight inspection. He couldn’t hold out his gasp when both of his hands sunk deep into her front pockets, feeling the hard muscles of her thighs. He tried his best to mask his arousal when he switched to the back pockets of her pantaloons, feeling the round, hard buttocks. The man intentionally took his sweet time and allowed his hands to linger on her impressive muscles before the sound of intentional throat clearing forced him to remove his hands from the woman. “Emma! Emma! Emma!” yelled out some of the women among the audience as the mustachioed man removed her short red jacket for the final inspection and revealed her impressive physique to the crowds.

Emma was a different specimen to the women who have walked the earth. Built like a jungle feline, her shredded muscles were proof of her dedication and hard work. George had never seen a woman built as strong as her with a pair of orbs that were so firm it didn’t jiggle like sagged tits in every step she made.

The mustachioed man then switched his attention to him. The inspection was rather brief for him before he called them both to the center of the ring and started to explain the rules again. Rabbit and kidney punches were not mentioned because doctors didn’t realize the danger of it…yet. When they stood face-to-face, George noticed Emma was a tad shorter than him yet her amazing physique had his manhood strained against the fabric of the pantaloons. He never expected women with muscles were extremely hot. He realized how lucky he might be that he had emptied his bladder beforehand because the girl looked like she could punch. The mustachioed man’s words buzzed through his ears as his gaze was focused on Emma’s, igniting a psy war before the match began. "There's still time to back away little girl" He calmly spoke.

 

[lowblow emma]

Emma was not one of those fighters who was showy, but she drew attention to herself in subtle ways that got her plenty of attention. She deliberately walked slowly to the ring, ensuring that everyone's eyes were on her. The flapping of her coat drew attention and the glimpses of her body created expectations of what was still to be revealed.

She did not look at the crowd, gazing ahead as if her eyes were focused on the ring, although in reality she was taking in the reactions of the spectators out of the side of her vision. She knew what they were thinking and how they were feeling. She had no illusion that many of the so-called gentlemen present would be getting off later on the memories of her body and her prowess. Their wives would be in for a busy night, unless their husbands worked out their passions with the whores who worked the streets around the amphitheatre.

Once in the ring, she waited patiently for the inspection and the pawing she was sure she would receive. She was not surprised then when the official spent considerable time with his hands in the front pockets of her pantaloons, first tracing the contours of her thighs and then probing between her thighs, only moving away when he was sure she had no blades inserted into her pussy. Emma did not catch his eye or react or how he was mauling her. But she could not miss his heavy breathing. His attention to her rear pockets was just as thorough. His hands clenched on her tight buttocks before pushing as far as he could into her crack. At last, he was left with her jacket. A gentleman would have moved behind her and lifted it off her shoulders. He was not a gentleman and stood in front of her as he pushed it off, his eyes fixed on her bosom. 'Fuckin' hell,' he gasped as her breasts came into view.

Finally, reluctantly she sensed, he moved to her opponent. The check of his pantaloons was more cursory, as she had expected, but she was waiting for the coat to come away. She drew in a deep breath at the sight of his muscular physique and hairy chest. Nice, very nice. Her thoughts echoed the words of the official when he removed her jacket.

'There's still time to back away little girl.' His words were spoken to her, but her reply was addressed to the crowd.

'I'm not little,' as our official can confirm. She waved her hand in the direction of the man, causing her tits to bounce.

She waited for the laughter to die down. Annie and Charlie grinned, knowing Emma would milk this for all it was worth, getting the crowd on her side as she did so.

'And,' her voice rose to carry over the laughter, 'I'm no more a girl then you are a boy.'

More laughter as she walked round her opponent, making an obvious show of running her eyes over him thoroughly from all angles.

'At least,' she announced as she completed her circuit, 'not as far as I can see.'

She hoped that, by now, her opponent was regretting trying his obvious trick, but she was not done yet.

'You're right that there is still time to back away.' Silence fell, because no one now expected her to accept the invitation. 'There are four sides to this ring.' She waved her hand towards each in turn, causing more tit bouncing. 'Fell free to leave through any of them.' Laughter and some whistling. 'I suggest you do.' She paused, keeping the spectators hanging on her response. 'If you don't, either I'll knock you through the ropes or your supporters will have to carry you after I've knocked you out.'

With that, she stalked back to her corner.

 

[Freddylee23]

Even though she tried her best not to show it, George noticed a hint of approval in her gaze as she sized him up. Maybe once this was over, they could hook up and fuck like hyena. George quickly shook the thoughts away. It wasn’t just his pride, the dignity of men boxing was on the line as well. Aside from the money involved, the outcome of the fight would either prove or disprove the theory of women being equal to men in the ring. John was right, even if she was the most beautiful lass with the most beautiful tits, he shouldn’t hold himself back. What would happen afterwards between them would be a discussion for another day.

The mustachioed gentleman looked away when she mentioned she wasn’t ‘little’. He was in fear of being exposed for his sexual harrassment that disguised as an inspection.

A smirk crept up to his face and he stayed silent as Emma humiliated him in front of the crowds. The female pugilist sure had the flare for drumming up interest with irresistibly cocky wordplay and the charisma to move the crowds to her side. For George, it was even better. He would like to see how the crowds react once he bloodied up and broke some of their pretty little heroine bones. John & Kane however, were furious. “The bitch got lips. I’d shove up my willie up inside me wife’s mouth, let her choke on that if she gets that lips” said the Irishman. Kane agreed to it, she never likes bitches that talked back.

George just stood there, taking it like a man. He was never good with words anyway so silence was the best option. The gentleman with the amazing moustache quickly dismissed them to their own corner realizing his words had no effect on the eager fighters who sought to beat the living lights of one another. At last, she walked back to the corner and he as well, the fun was about to begin.

Ding!

“Now beat some senses into the whore” said John before George moved out of his corner. His left hand was extended with his right hand resting close against his chest in a classic Irish fighting stance. Finesse and refined boxing technique were out of the window. His fighting style was of a brawler and close to being a street fighter but make no mistake, when he punched, he would make sure his opponents felt it.

They were fighting London Prize Ring rules, meaning a round would only end with a fighter going down, either forced or voluntarily. A fighter could voluntarily go down, ending the round to get a minute's respite and attentions of their seconds but such act was heavily frowned upon and considered unmanly. Only a full minute allocated to each fighter to make it to the center of the ring, the fighter that unable to make it on time would be deemed as the loser of the fight. The rules were one of the most brutal and one with the most loopholes in the history of boxing with the longest fight ever recorded that lasted 75 rounds.

The big man was curious how this impressively muscled ‘weaker sex’ would fare against him after a few knocks. His left fists repeatedly threw jabs against her face to test the water while he circled around her, sizing her up for the second time. Then, he let go of his stance. "Forgive me that I seem to forget my manners. Lady first" He dropped his stance, smiling as he offered her his head to be punched as she pleased.

 

[lowblow emma]

'Remember what I told you,' Charlie leaned close to Emma's ear, whispering her last words of advice, and warning, 'this guy is strong but basically he's just a street fighter. He doesn't think fast and he's not quick on his feet. Keep out of range as much as you can, then land some punches and pull back. Quick in, quick out.'

'Like the actress said to the bishop.' Emma could always rely on Annie to release the tension before the fight began. She and Charlie were the perfect combination for seconds.

Emma, though, had her own thoughts. She had to impress the Lord and his backers. She had to make the fight last, even if she was losing badly.

The action began as she had expected. George took up a solid stance, with a traditional high guard, ready to protect himself against an attack or follow up for a one-two. She kept out of range and waited her chance to get in a blow under his guard. Not low, not below the belt. She might need to resort to that, but not now, not this soon.

'Forgive me that I seem to forget my manners. Lady first.'

Emma wasn't sure if this was a genuine way to test her strength or a trap. Either way, she didn't hesitate.

She moved swiftly towards him, and aimed a blow at his face. His hands came up instinctively, allowing her to send her right fist like a piston into his solar plexus. Her fist hit hard muscle, but the blow would wind him, doubling him up, and allowing her to follow up with a quick left fist over his guard into his right eye.

She stepped back and executed an extravagant bow, her tits dangling low as she did so.

'Thank you, kind sir.'

She wouldn't get a chance like that again, but it was satisfying to land the first blows.

 

[Freddylee23]

George took a solid blow to his face. It stung but he had been hit a lot harder that even his granite chin couldn’t withstand. He was glad Emma packed some power beneath those muscles or he would feel like an indestructible walking tin man. George granted her two more punches. One knocked some wind out of him and another knocked his head back for a bit. Neither of them have instant effect to hurt the former soldier but if prolonged, could cause him a serious disadvantage.

“What the bloody hell are you doing, mate?” He could hear John shouting at him from a distance. The crowd however approved of him even though it may look and sound silly to allow your opponent the first punch. He nodded with courtesy when she thanked her for the opportunity that surely wouldn’t come twice. He may looked slow and stupid for a young agile fighter like her but he might have a few surprises hidden under his sleeves, in this case his pantaloons.

When he noticed they were circling closer to the ropes following the free shots he had given her, he lunged at her. Using his sheer power to push Emma to the ropes by spearing her hard abs with his right shoulder while his right arm coiled around her side to minimize the risk of her escaping. Even if she was built with mountains of muscles, he suspected she might be a few stones lighter than him so the trick might just work.

He trapped her on the ropes before his heavy knuckles repeatedly dug into her ribs. Three on the right, one on the left and his left hand lashed out hook, trying to maul her right tit in a follow up.

“Atta boy! That’s it!” yelled Kane. He and John were smiling in satisfaction to witness George unleash his inner beast on the woman, not even holding back a second. The spectators who bet for the ‘First Blood’ witnessed them closely, eager to see who would first spill blood in this historical fight.

George really worked her hard. If she would try to escape, his heavy arms would prevent her and pulled her back to the ropes for the ongoing slaughter. He tagged her right eye twice with hard left hook. He lusted for blood but he did want this fight to last so the spectators could witness this cocky little lass who thought she was equal to a man, being taught a lesson the hard way. He would make her to submit to him. After all, It was what God created lasses for, to submit to every man's whim and desires.

 

[lowblow emma]

Emma was taking a thrashing. Everyone in the amphitheater knew it. Her supporters knew it. And Emma herself knew it. She had been on the receiving end of some sound beatings, but always at the hands of other women. She now regretted not have some practice bouts with male opponents to prepare herself for the onslaught of powerful blows she was taking.

For a moment, she wondered if he was getting off on delivering this salvo of punches to a woman; some men were like that. If he was, that would be something she could exploit to her advantage. But despite his body being pressed against hers, she could detect no hardness in his pantaloons. No, she would have to find another way.

To add insult to injury some of the spectators were taking advantage of her body being trapped on the ropes to rush forward and fondle her ass. The officials forced them back, but more kept coming. She was getting desperate, verging towards frantic to have been caught and trapped so early in the bout. All she could do was to try to squirm her way out of her opponent's grasp.

And, in a flash, she saw a chance.

Charlie had been so liberal with the oil that she had rubbed into Emma's upper body, that she had been as slippery as an ill. Some had been absorbed in her skin, but the rest remained glistening on the surface and, as George rubbed against it, some was being transferred onto his chest and arms. He was focused on delivering more and more painful beating on what he thought was a cornered opponent that he failed to notice that she was steadily positioning her arms so that she could force them between the fighters at the right moment.

That moment came when he was landing a blow on her eye. His eyes were watching her face and failed to understand what she was going with her body. Their bodies were both so now well oiled that Emma was able to thrust her arms upwards aiming at her opponent's nose and catching it a hard blow that pushed his head back and sent blood gushing down her chest.

Taking what might be her only chance to burst free, she broke his grip and moved away. Tempting as it was to trap him in his turn on the ropes, she knew that she would be more effective making quick inroads into his defences from the centre of the ring.

 

[Freddylee23]

George was hell bent to bring her to her knees early in the fight to show the spectators that even the best of women wouldn’t stand a chance against a man, even a man that was way past his prime. The punches fell like rain and he failed to notice Emma had concocted a plan to escape the onslaught. The only way he could think of her escaping was to voluntarily go down the rickety wooden floor to signal an end of the round, which would be embarrassing for the woman who had been cocky before a fight.

The mustachioed man and the ringsiders witnessed the fierce combat closely. Betting money were held tight on each hands, ready to exchange hands. New bets were coming on how long the young lass would last against the onslaught. The police and officials that were on guard around the 4 pillars of the ring had hard time maintaining the ringsiders crowds’ safety distance to the ring.

Then, out of the blue, Emma got creative on him. Both of her defending arms suddenly thrust upwards as a desperate attempt to free herself. George’s head was forcefully snapped back. It wasn't clear her fists or elbows that drew the first blood from George before she finally made her escape by exploiting her slick as an eel body. The winning crowds roared in excitement while the ones losing the bet cursed endlessly towards him.

Some of his blood spilled on her chest but it was safe to say that his nose was far from broken. As a matter of fact, his nose had never been broken once in his entire fighting career, not even the hardest puncher sumbitch he ever faced in the ring could break it. George wiped the remaining blood with his right away. Fortunately, it didn’t drip steadily from his nostrils and he suspected the bleeding would stop as the fight carry on, unless Emma would keep aiming at it.

Like a bull seeing red, he came at her without any second thoughts, not allowing her a second to breathe. “I’m going to kill you, you bloody two shillings whore” In a fit of anger, he came in swinging. He lashed out two left straights that aimed for her nose and a right heavy hook for her jaw. With any given chance, he would definitely to trap her again and rain hellfire upon her. Making her felt like being trapped in a quicksand, nothing left to do but surrendering to the fate.

 

[lowblow emma]

Emma had taken a beating and her eye was throbbing. George hadn't broken any bones, she was sure of that, but she would be black and blue with bruises by tomorrow. Her body was already aching from the blows, but she didn't mind the pain, in fact she enjoyed it.

She only realised this and the danger it posed for her from a conversation she had had with Charlie. It was early in her career, just after Charlie had introduced herself and taken the promising young woman under her wing. Emma had lost a fight and been punished with a thorough beating, far worse than George had just given her. They were walking home, when Charlie said to her, quite casually, "You mustn't show how you feel, you know." Emma thought she meant that she must not show how much she was hurting, but Charlie corrected her. "No, Emma, you mustn't show how much you are enjoying it. Because you were, weren't you. I could tell you were turned on. Some people are like that, men and women. There are clubs where they go to be beaten and get themselves off on it."

Charlie never said how she knew about the clubs or what happened in them, but her words made Emma realise what was happening to her. Yes, the pain brought her alive, lifted her out of her everyday humdrum existence, and when you feel that alive, it is only a short step to feeling aroused. At this stage of her career, she now recognised it was happening and was well practiced at concealing it. Which she had to do, because Charlie was right; once her opponent sensed it, they would attack her even more.

But the result was that, contrary to all expectation in the amphitheatre, she was now energised and alert. George was not. This was not the man she had expected to fight. He was in more pain that she was, not because he had a bloody nose, but because he had been humiliated by her escape, with the result that he was now blundering around without thought or purpose, just desperate to take control again.

Emma, younger, fitter and more nimble, easily avoided his blows, waiting to take advantage of his carelessness. As he blundered towards her, fists flying, she sidestepped out of his way, and let loose the most powerful punch she could propel against his face. George's own momentum added to the power and force of the impact, which sent a shock of pain up Emma's right arm, as her fist connected with his nose.

 

[Freddylee23]

John was yelling out of his lungs, extremely pissed it wasn't George who drew the first blood. It wasn't pride that infuriated him but the plan to earn a tidy sum on the side had backfired as he had just lost twenty shillings betting on his friend to first bloody up the lass infuriated him. "Pissed off" He yelled after giving his hard earned money to the winner of the bet. "I'm gonna take a leak" John left the scene and Kane simply nodded. After all, he needed to let off some steam after losing money for meal that was enough for a week.

George was as infuriated as his friend. The fight didn't go exactly as he had planned in mind. He let his anger from humiliation went straight into his hand and didn't think much when he lashed out blows that hit nothing but the thin air. His final swing turned out to be advantageous to Emma. His momentum coupled with Emma's haymaker counter instantly sent him to the ground, blood splattered on the wooden floor. The whole theater erupted as they couldn't believe what they've just witnessed, except for the Lord who simply nodded even though he agreed with the crowds. A six foot mountain of muscles had been downed by a woman. It was outstanding to say the least. Could this fight go down in history as the first mixed sex fight ever won by a woman ? Too early to tell as The Butchered quickly scrambled to get onto his feet. His pride didn't allow him to linger on the rickety wooden floor after just being knocked down by a woman. He was about to lunge at Emma before Kane and the mustachioed man tried their best to stop him before more officials helped to return him to his corner.

"First round lasting two minutes and thirty seconds goes to Emma!" declared the man with the amazing moustache. The theater erupted again to his dismay. He didn't care the flow of his blood from his nostrils had become steadier. His gaze was focused on Emma who looked content with the spectacular knockdown she had just pulled. While Kane tried to stop the bleeding by shoving cottons into his nostrils, his mind replayed to the point when her fist connected and he was downed. He felt something strange. After all these years, he discovered being the receiving end of a beating sexually aroused him, especially when dished out by a woman. However, he quickly shook the silly thoughts away, keep telling himself that he was just deprived of sex and that's that. If he was aroused when beaten by a woman, then the arousal would double for him once he have her lying unconscious before him, wouldn't it ? Only one way to find out.

"What...what did I miss?" asked John who had just returned from his tour to the men's room. He knew a knockdown had been scored and feeling proud for his friend until he learned from Kane that it was the other way around. He couldn't hold the urge to slap George in the face and the fierce pugilist returned at him with a killer gaze. "Ok ok, my bad. I apologize. Now listen to me. She's young, fast and best of all, you couldn't keep up with her. So, let her come to you, let her swing her fast knuckles and then you counter attack, BOOM! just like that" John explained what he needed to do while Kane sponged his hairy chest with cool water before the minute was up.

Eight seconds to walk to the center of the ring and George had no trouble to meet with the demand of the rules. He and Emma stood face to face in the center of the ring and the dried blood in his nostrils served as a reminder of his recklessness.

Instead of going at her like a rabid dog, he switched his stance and stay calm. Both of his arms were at his chin level and his body slightly bent forward, restricting Emma from targeting his body with her shorter reach. "Yeah come now, you whore! Let's see what you can do" He repeatedly taunt her to come at him, his right hand kept gesturing at her to come.

 

[lowblow emma]

Annie and Charlie were squabbling when Emma returned to her corner.

'I tell you I'm right, I saw it,' Annie was insistent.

'In your imagination,' Charlie's deep voice was dismissive, as she looked at Emma's eye.

'Saw what?' Emma asked.

'He's got a stiffy,' Annie had the confidence of someone who was right and would not allow anyone to say otherwise. 'After you put him on the deck. I saw it. He tried to hide it, but his pantaloons caught on it. I know a stiffy when I see one,' she concluded.

Charlie's hands were exploring Emma's chest now, including her trashed breast. 'Nothing broken,' she announced with relief. 'How are you feeling?' Emma knew what she was hinting and smiled back.

As the fighters met in the centre of the ring, George returned to his taunting. It was not in Emma's nature to ignore it, but she kept her voice low. The crowd could see she was speaking and they strained to hear what she was saying, but her words did not carry outside the ring.

'Just for your information, I am not a whore. I am very, VERY,' she emphasised the word, 'particular about the men I bed.' As she stopped talking, her eyes flicked over this body.

He was right about one thing, though. She was going to have to meet him on his own terms and now was a good time when he was still shocked from what had happened to him. So, she adopted a pose to match his and edged towards him, inwardly prepared for the flurry of blows that she knew was going to greet her.

 

[Freddylee23]

George repeatedly took a long breath to calm himself down, not willing to let anyone notice he got himself hard when being knocked down by a woman. His manly pride simply couldn't accept it and his hard on eventually withered, at least temporarily.

As much as he wanted to bash Emma into a bloody piece of meat, he knew Emma wasn't another John he could go toe-to-toe with in a street fight, beating the living lights out of each other in a brutal fashion with no techniques and finesse involved. ‘Ye olde’ fighters like him would consider Emma’s fighting style to be a disgrace, however the spectators wouldn’t have the slightest care on how she fought as long as she could provide them with good entertainment and a tidy sum from the betting involved.

When Emma emphasized herself as a whore only a particular man can bed, George nodded and gained some newfound respect for her. He wished he could be the man of her wish once this heated fight would end but for now, he would stick to his original plan, to let the spectators witness that women have no chance to be in the ring against men.

Instead of letting his anger get the best out of him, he kept a level head this time around. That was the most dangerous thing a brute could ever do, to think. He kept his stance, occasionally faking his left jabs to bluff her while he slowly moved, not circling against her but moving forward and pressing her down to a corner or the ropes.

Out of the blue, a relatively fat man from the ringside slipped through the police and officials’ attention. Standing behind the ropes, one of his arms suddenly coiled around Emma’s neck when she was close enough to the ropes and the other hand was on the back of her head to add the pressure on her neck. “Punch this whore, what are you waiting for?!!” yelled the fat man towards George who just stood there, dumbfounded by his action. It appeared the fat man wanted to secure his “investment” on George. The ‘invitation’ to freely batter Emma was too tempting to be passed. Emma was left only with the options, either to defend herself with her arms or to use both her arms to pry herself free from the fat man. Either way, George was coming for her blood. The man savaged Emma’s face, chest, and ribs with well-placed and deliberate shots.

A hard right straight pancaked Emma’s left tit, followed by a left hook that swiped her tits. George didn’t take his sweet time to dish out the punishments as the police and officials had noticed the fat man’s wrongdoing. They tried to pry him away from Emma but his grip on Emma proved too strong and they resorted to their batons, battering his back mercilessly with hopes he would release the woman. They couldn’t believe this fat man’s threshold of pain was so high that he still maintained his tight grip.

Seizing the given chance, his left hand came straight at her nose after punishing her tits. The same left hand propelled a hook to her jaw, followed closely by a right hook also to the jaw. Her ribs, especially the ones on the left, also received his attention in the form of a left hook before he drilled a right uppercut on the pit of her stomach. George was really raining hellfire upon her whether she would defend herself or tried to pry herself loose.

 

[lowblow emma]

The sudden attack from behind took Emma by surprise. Charlie and Annie couldn't have seen it coming or they would have called out a warning. In an instant, she was trapped, from behind and exposed to George's merciless attack. For a moment, she had wondered if he would step back and insist on a fair fight, but he didn't, which made her wonder if there was all part of a plot to get the upper hand.

The blows flew in, smashing into every part of her torse. He seemed to enjoy pummelling her tits, which was no surprise, it was just what she would expect from a man. The noise of the crowd almost drowned out the shouting just behind her as officials and police struggled to free her.

She didn't mind the pain. It was different from what she experienced when fighting a woman. They were less powerful and backed a lighter punch than George, although unlike him they knew a woman's body and understood how and where to punch to deliver the most pain. George's blow were more clumsy, but more solid and crashed into her with more force, sending waves through her body.

A body that was responding to his onslaught, physically responding, down there, below her waist, between her legs, deep inside her. But she suppressed those feelings, letting them build – she could do nothing to stop them – as they mind searched frantically for a way out.

In the end, the choice made itself. She could not get free. She had struggled and squirmed without even loosening the man's hold. And her rescuers had still not succeeded. All she could do was protect herself. The blows came fast, spread around, too fast for her to react to each one. She chose to protect what was most important, her face. That was most vulnerable, so she raised her hands and arms to block what she could or deflect and reduce their power when she could not.

Freedom came without warning. One second he was choking her, the next he wasn't. One second she was held back, the next she wasn't. Her release must have been as unexpected for George as for her. Instinct and experience took control. She had to take her chance. Never for an instant did she think about the easy way, dropping to her knees for a respite. Instead, she launched forward, into and through his arms, aiming at his face, a series of piston pump thrusts with all the power she could muster, nose and eyes, nose and eyes, battering as hard as she could, pressing forward, despite to get away from the ropes where she had now been trapped twice.

 

[Freddylee23]

Delivering the salvo of punches towards a woman turned on the excitement underneath his pantaloons. His raging manhood nearly formed a tent had the fabric been a little bit less resistant. He wouldn't care if it wasn't a fair fight. Winning was the only thing in his mind, well winning and fucking a girl's brains out.

Seeing his fellow officials failed to release Emma from the fat man, the mustachioed man helped to pry his vice grip away from Emma. At last, the fat man was downed after one of the officers hit him on the head. There was no movement from the man but whether he lived or died, the fight continued inside the ring. George was a bit taken aback by Emma's sudden release. His mind was slow to process after the beatdown given to Emma, so slow that Emma took the initiative and started to pepper his head with a flurry of punches.

George's head repeatedly went back and forth like a bobblehead. The blood dripping from his nostrils had become more intense. While her single punch didn't hurt him significantly, the accumulated punches to his nose and eyes had started to hurt him. They were enough to push him back but lucky for him, There were no beautiful technique involved, only a series of desperate punches to bring her away from the ropes. He could read the pattern after a short while and came up with a counter attack plan.

The plan didn't involve him swinging for the fences like a bloodlusted maniac. As a matter of fact, it was considered smart for a grunt like him. When Emma's knuckle came for his nose again, he brought his forehead and allowed his forehead to meet with her knuckle. The clash between her knuckles and one of the hardest parts of the human body would send waves of pain through her knuckles.

George deliberately headbutted or allowing her incoming punches to hit his forehead for a few more times. It wasn't against the rules but it seemingly has caused some damage to her knuckles.

"What's the matter? Your little hands feeling some pain darling?" He tapped a few times on his forehead, taunting Emma. "C'mon, I'll give this little missy a few more free shots. I promise I won't bite" He said as he leaned in forward, offering his forehead to her. His strong forehead was more than ready to help George in cracking his agile opponent's knuckles.

 

[lowblow emma]

The Lord had been clever in his choice of fighter and it was only now that Emma realised just how shrewd his choice had been. This wasn't just a contest between a man and a woman. It was a context between different styles of fighting. Emma's style was the modern, agile, tactical match, more like chess at times than boxing. George's was the older, more static, brutal punch throwing brawl. Each had their supporters. The Lord was gauging which were the more lucrative for him.

But for Emma, this was not about business and profit and loss. This was about showing that women could be the equal of men and even better. Even when they fought by the men's own rules. Throw away the rules and no men would stand a chance against a sharp knee or tight fist cracking those precious eggs that they were so proud of dangling between their thighs.

Any discerning spectator would have realised that even when George used his mind instead of his fists he was clumsy and heavy footed.

His trick with headbutting her fists sent shock waves up Emma's arm into her shoulder and grazed her knuckles. But the pain was fleeting and the grazes nothing that would stop or hinder a seasoned fighter. And, of course, having got an idea, George stuck with it. Which was his weakness, well one of his weaknesses.

So Emma took aim at his nose, put all her power behind her punch, and just as she judged George would drop into a headbutt, she lowered her right hand to crash into the bridge of his nose. At the same time, she brought her left hand into play with an upper cut to take him in the face from below.

The worst that could happen was more pain and an extra graze or two. But the best, ah yes, now, the best. …

 

[Freddylee23]

“Stop offering your head like a goddamn fool!” John yelled frustratingly while Kane was always the observant, quiet type. John’s words fell into his deaf ears or maybe it was the amphitheater that got too loud.

Like Emma did previously, George followed the same pattern and soon his opponent could easily read his mind. When he brought his forehead again thinking Emma would foolishly propel her knuckles to the same spot, he was greeted with a hard straight to the bridge of his nose. Again, she failed to break his nose that it would become a world record if someone would succeed in the near future.

However, a small gash was opened on the bridge of his nose and now his blood flowed quite freely from his nostrils. He didn’t have time to check on it when an uppercut came crashing on his jaw, splattering blood to his chest, the wooden floor and obviously the ringsiders. The accumulating punches to the head had begun to infuriate him once more as he staggered back a few steps from Emma’s power blows.

George quickly shook his head, returning to the fight. He was furious Emma had been making a fool out of him with the fighting styles he wouldn’t even consider as boxing. The thoughts of slamming her cunt with his heavy knee crossed his mind once but he quickly shook the dishonored way out of his head, sticking to battery her body, face & tits as hard as he could. He launched a left and right straight to Emma’s beautiful face and ripped a left hook to her ribs.

 

[lowblow emma]

The blows kept coming, jarring Emma's body. She refused to retreat, not daring to risk being trapped on the ropes again. Every blow was tiring her opponent, weakening him in the long run more than he was weakening her. She absorbed the blows, her masochistic side enjoying the sheer thrill of the beating.

Another part of her brain warned her that this man was strong. This was different from the assaults she had experienced from women fighters, or the more erotic encounters in the privacy of a bedroom. She had to be careful. Tempting though it was just to show him that she took could take everything he could give her, she had to take the fight to him. He would not throw in the towel just because of her endurance or collapse from the exhaustion of inflicting pain.

Fortunately, she was shorter than George. That gave him some advantages, but she could lean out of reach of the blows to her face, but she had to keep close in order to hit him with her shorter reach. Fortunately, he had to lower his arms to attack her torso. And that left his face exposed. She brought up her arms, aimed over his blows at her chest, and began to beat a tattoo on his face whenever she had the chance. Aiming for his eyes and the cut on the bridge of his nose, hoping to open the cut and close one or even both eyes, flooding his face with blood. Short sharp jabs. As powerful as she could under the hail of blows hitting her chest.

But watchful, watchful all the time for a chance of tactic by her opponent. He was not the brightest of fighters, but he had a brain and had showed signs of an agility in his tactics that made her wary.

 

[Freddylee23]

George wasn't looking good in a fight against a sex that everyone thought to be weaker. Small part of his face was covered in his own blood flowing from his nostrils and Emma repeatedly peppering it with her lightning quick jabs certainly didn't help with the matter. Despite the sadism within him loved to dish out the punishments, he had to be wary of Emma's IQ in the ring which could give him surprises.

Never once in his life he had encountered woman like Emma, a woman who could go the distance in a fight against a six feet tall burly man. George himself wasn't a gentleman. He had beaten women in the past for badmouthing him but normally, it would only take one good shot to send them to the La La Land. Only Emma proved to be different and she gradually earned his respect despite the fact he was trying his best to turn this woman into a bloody piece of meat.

The second round lasted longer than the first and there were no signs of it ending anytime soon with the pugilists going toe-to-toe against one another in the center of the ring. It didn't look good on George. Her shorter body enabled her to launch flurry of punches to his head, especially his nose and eyes. The cut on the bridge of his nose widened, allowing more blood to trickle down his face. His eyes, his left one especially, started to swell after repeated punishments to the similar spot. "Bloody hell, this bitch could really punch" He thought while his face slowly turning into a mask of blood.

Despite his size and power, George figured going toe-to-toe against Emma certainly wasn't the greatest idea. He certainly didn't want to be the Goliath, a brainless giant who lost a fight to a man a third of his size. Indeed George was all brawn but at least his brain functioned when he tried to use it and it would be dangerous for his opponents if he started to think.

As Emma sought to reduce his vision, his left hand grabbed the incoming knuckle in time and hold it steady. He brought his forehead crashing down on her nose as he headbutted her against the rules and drove a piledriver straight to the pit of her abs. The action gained him a reprimand from the mustachioed man but he could care less as long as it could bring him some advantages. He knew the Lord wouldn't allow this battle of the century to stop over petty issues and knew how to use it for his own gain.

The fight was stopped temporarily. After reprimanding him, the mustachioed man went on to look at Emma. He closely inspected her injuries sustained from the dirty moves George just pulled. Obviously, his attention wasn't only on her slightly bent nose as his gaze occasionally trailed down to her battered breasts and abs. It looked sexier with all of the battle damages and that view would certainly linger inside his head for the rest of his life.

The man however quickly returned his attention to Emma's crooked nose after the woman intentionally cleared her throat. "Hold still" he said before he forcefully fixed her nose. The woman seemingly winced in pain for a short while. George got really stiffy from watching women in pain, especially from his handywork. Still, he was no women beater outside the ring or perhaps streets, at least he still had some sense of honor in that.

The mustachioed man wiped off his bloody hand with a handkerchief. After closely inspecting her nose, he declared the fight to be continued.

George came at her like a bull seeing red, pressing on the advantages he had on Emma. A salvo of hard straights greeted Emma's face once more while he sought to corner the shorter pugilist. His tactics still didn't change that much. By now, Emma had bent her body slightly forward, making her torso slightly out of reach and having George focusing his punches only towards her head. It enabled her to fully defend her head from the barrage of punches even though some may have slipped past her defenses. However, with her in defending mode, George kept on pressing her to the ropes...again. The circumstances were not kind to Emma. Despite being a heavy drinker, George surprisingly have the stamina to keep dishing out the beating all day long.

 

[lowblow emma]

George wasn't a tactician, but he had brute strength and the stamina to keep delivering blows that shook Emma's head and body. She could not compete and knew she couldn't compete on his level. She had agility and the ability to make lightening fast attacks that stung and would keep on stinging unless they wore away at George's will and sapped his power. But she had to keep on her toes, because occasionally, just occasionally, he was showing flashes of inspiration that would take her off her guard if she did not stay alert. She had the confidence of drawing first blood, but that had made George all the more determined to come out on top of each encounter.

She was aware immediately that he grabbed hold of her fist that he had something planned, something he hoped she would not expect and anticipate. And he was right, because she had not expected blatant cheating, not this early. But the headbutt took her completely by surprise. The sudden shock of pain and the realisation that her nose was no longer where it had been throughout the fight so far.

It came as a shock, and if George had been allowed to continue he would have inflicted untold damage on her, certainly putting her down and maybe even knocking her senseless. Fortunately for Emma, the official stopped the fight and restored her nose with a few swift, albeit painful twists, to its rightful location, front and centre and straight. And his attention gave her respite and time to recover, for longer than necessary as a result of his careful attention to her breasts.

But what worked for Emma also worked for George. He now faced an opponent more composed that she had been, but he too had had time to rest and recover his strength. And he gave her no chance to regain the upper hand, pressing forward, unable to get many blows through her defensive stance, but able to use his sheer force to move her back, back, back, towards the ropes where she could be trapped.

But once again his strength would be sapped while she was able to conserve hers. And taking a purely defensive role for the moment, she had time to think. And having thought, she acted. She was also positioned low and now, swiftly, he shifted to one side to avoid a blow to her head. But instead of returning to her previous position, she kept moving left, intending to duck under his blows and move away from the ropes.

And it went well, so well, until-

Until she felt her left foot beginning to slip.

Probably on the blood she had shed from the cuts on George's face.

She struggled to regain her balance while her opponent was still turning towards her.

 

[Freddylee23]

The second round lasted longer that anyone could have imagined. It wasn’t breaking any records but still, half an hour for a burly man like George to put a woman in her place felt like an eternity. They’ve never expected the champion of women boxing could go quite the distance. Again, money changed hands after Emma defended herself way past the time they had bet on her to go down for good. Curses were directed at George for his failure to wrap up this fight early like everyone have predicted. They even questioned if George was man enough to take on a woman on bed but he did his best to ignore them.


A large portion of the crowds left the amphitheater with huge disappointments, mostly from losing their hard-earned money from the bets. George could care less about them and their money. Beating Emma to a bloody pulp was his top priority. He did what he had in mind, overwhelming Emma with seemingly endless punches to the head. While his arms started to burn with fatigue, he could see the results as Emma was forced to move to where he wanted her to be.


As he expected with Emma, he knew she wouldn’t make it easy on her. Her smaller frame enabled her to duck under his repeated blows while keeping moving to the left. She really made him work hard just to get a taste of her flesh on his knuckles.


Pursuing Emma around the ring unexpectedly sapped most of his strength and stamina. Apart from his arms, his lungs were also starting to burn with fatigue and he knew he couldn’t keep up with this any longer until he saw an opening. The woman’s left foot started to become unable to maintain a firm grip on the ground. In other words, she was slipping and George seized the opportunity given to him and propelled a left haymaker to the right side of her face. Considering the momentum, the haymaker wouldn’t be as devastating as anyone would’ve thought but certainly still packed some wallop to send a painful wave to her head.

 

[lowblow emma]

Could Emma have held out long enough for George to become exhausted by his onslaught? It was something that she wondered about later, something her supports discussed endlessly Charlie tried to develop a tactic to prevent it happening again or to overcome it when it did, and it was something her fans would speculate about as they tried to forget the money she had lost them on bets.

Emma knew the truth, though. She knew it as it happened, even before it happened. Once she had lost her balance, she was done for. Whatever might have been, it would not be now. If George hadn't been close, she might have been able to stagger back upright in time to meet his next attack. But he was close, right there in front of her. If she had been closer to the ropes, she might have been able to use them for support. But she wasn't near the ropes and had spent a lot of time and effort keeping clear of them.

Yes, Emma knew the truth. Life could be shit sometimes, and often was shit at the worst possible times. And that is what brought the second round to an ignominious end.

Her foot went from under her. she knew she had stood on something and the only thing that she could have stood on and slipped on was blood, almost certainly George's blood, which she had caused to flow copiously from the cuts on his face that she had inflicted. And George was right there, so close that he couldn't miss what was happening, even if he was unaware of the cause, or the irony of it. And although George might not be the most quick witted of fighters, he wasn't stupid and could recognise a chance when it stared him in the face.

And so it was that George lashed out. He had to act fast, which was not his strong point. And she was falling anyway. So she was spared the worst of the blow, but it was enough to topple her beyond hope of recovery.

So down she went. Landing on the base of her spine that shot a pain into her head as her body jarred from the impact.

'SHIT,' she screamed, 'SHIT, SHIT, SHIT.'

It was partly pain, but more frustration at being thwarted as she saw it. All that mental effort and physical pain gone for nothing. At least that was how it seemed at the time.

Tears rolled down her face as she scrambled to her feet to walk to her supporters.

 

[Freddylee23]

“Yeahh!!” George threw his arms into the air to celebrate for knocking down his opponent. Finally, all of his frustrations bore some fruits and his supporters were on his side again when they regained their lost money added with a little bit of profit from the knockdown. He knew she didn’t absorb all of the power behind the punch that knocked her down but it was enough to call for a short celebration.

Both John & Kane cheered for him when he returned to his corner. His manhood was raging, screaming for a good fuck tonight and George obeyed it, willing to end this woman as quickly as he could and then get the best pussy in town for a night.

John opened a bottle of gin for him and he took a few gulps hungrily as if it was needed to quench his thirst. “Much obliged” he returned the bottle to John and was more than ready to put this woman in her place once more. The mustachioed man declared the end of the second round by thirty minutes and forty seconds. Quite a long round but the next one would be unexpected for everyone in the amphitheater.

Meanwhile, Emma’s corner was yelling at her to toughen up, to wipe away those tears to avoid being seen as her weakness. George took a peek at their corner but unable to listen in on what they have said to Emma but he could care less, seeing the woman downed satisfied him to the very core of himself and he wouldn’t stop until Emma would lie unconscious on the ground, all bloodied up.

Ding!

The Third round began and George didn’t waste a second to come at Emma. However, one of the rickety woods finally gave up and snapped, trapping one of his legs. “Bloody hell” he yelled. To his surprise, the fight wasn’t stopped by the mustachioed man. He was a sitting duck for Emma. He knew what was coming, both of his huge arms protected his head the best they could and his abs tensed to lessen the pain from the incoming punches from Emma. Still, it didn’t prepare him well to withstand Emma’s barrage to his abs and ribs. Every of her knuckles that connected on his mid brought him to his knee and he eventually vomited the gin. The audience watched in disgust and so did the mustachioed man before he called the round to an end.

Thirty seconds, that was the third round.

George was getting a mouthful from John once he was returned to his respective corner. The bell to the next round saved him from John. Round 4 saw one of the bloodiest battles between George & Emma. It began right after the woman kneed him on his bollocks after another attempt to have her cornered. He fell, clutching his manhood. He was supposed to rest for a little bit during the free one minute respite but he suddenly went up and choked Emma with one hand while she was being reprimanded by the ref. He brought her to the closest corner and mercilessly rained down heavy punches on her head. Some of them didn’t land perfectly thanks to Emma’s hands but soon the woman fought back even if her face was battered and her neck was choked. She did land a few picture perfect hooks on George’s left eye and tore up a new gash for him. As for herself, her left eye was starting to swell with bloodshot and her nose broke once again. It was a brutal sight to behold until five strong men finally managed to separate them.

However, there was no knockdown to be scored yet so the fight continued. Emma, the “chess player” was downed on her butt after a hard straight pancaked her nose and sprayed blood everywhere. Her eyes were watery and couldn’t see clearly after the punishment dished out by the man. George could notice her corner working hard to treat her injuries but he wasn’t looking good either. His nose didn’t stop bleeding and now the gash on his left eyebrow started to pour his own blood.

The fifth lasted quite a while until George shoved Emma away after being peppered with her lightning quick punches. His force threw Emma to the ropes. She landed on her tits with her back exposed. His ham sized fists quickly turned her legs jelly when he repeatedly threw punches on her kidneys. The mustachioed man signaled the end of the round by twenty minutes and four seconds and ordered both of the pugilists to return to their own respective corners. Emma in this case had her companion to help her return.

 

[lowblow emma]

Charlie and Annie helped Emma to her corner and propped her up. Charlie drew back her hand and delivered two sharp slaps across Emma's face, then a third, determined to get mind back into focus. Emma opened her eyes and shook her head.

'How do you feel?'

'Trashed,' her voice was weak and she managed only one word to describe the devastation she felt. Her face and torso throbbed from the blows she had received as did her lower back after the latest attack by George on her kidneys. Her muscles screamed – shoulders, arms, thighs and calves – as if they were torn by the constant exertion.

'The good news,' Charlie whispered, 'is that the guy must feel worse than you do. He's been making all the running; he's sure to be running out of steam.'

Emma managed a weak smile. She wasn't so sure. That knee to his nuts had been harder than she intended; she had only wanted to give him a knock to distract his attention while she escaped from the trap he was planning for her. A knee to that quarter was usually enough to demotivate a guy for a while, but to her surprise he had come back at her almost straightaway. Like an animal, not like a man. That was what she was up against. How could she hope to beat a wild beast?

'Let him tire himself out,' was Charlie's advice, 'keep out of danger as best you can and take advantage of any openings you get.'

'Yeah, and if that don't work,' Annie laughed, 'give him an uppercut between those thighs. Don't rattle his tackle like last time, just smash those eggs of his.'

Charlie pulled Emma's face towards her and let her eyes drop to Emma's waist and beyond. Emma bit her bottom lip. The exchange only took a matter of seconds but it was enough. Charlie knew how the pain was getting Emma aroused, something Charlie would help her with, once they were alone. Annie did not understand things like that.

Emma understood the danger. She had to resist the temptation to give in take the punishment and relish the secret pleasure that she was feeling as it built up inside her belly. That, as she had learned to her cost, was the prelude to defeat. Those were pleasures to be savoured outside the ring.

She was not convinced of Charlie's analysis or advice, but right then, with her head still befuddled, it was the only plan she had, apart from just standing there and letting him knock her out of the ring.

The bell rang and she stepped forward.

 

[Freddylee23]

Despite the progress he made, George knew he would run out of steam later if not sooner if he would keep up with the desire to brutalize Emma. He knew he needed to cool down for a bit in the sixth round even if it meant getting peppered all over by the woman. It was a rare occasion to see him last beyond the fifth even though in his prime, he could last for as many rounds as needed to bring down his opponents.

His chest heaved rapidly as he slumped on his corner. His muscles were so drenched in his own sweat that he seemingly just went out of shower.

John and Kane performed their duties well. While Kane managed to lessen the bleeding on his nose and the cut on his left eyebrow, John sponged him on the chest to cool him down while spitting out advice for the next round. It all fell into deaf ears as his attention slipped towards Emma.

While looking thrashed after the beatings she received, Emma somehow looks to enjoy it. George found it odd in a woman but if taking a beating was something to turn her on, then he was more than happy to help her with it.

He was suddenly brought back into this world as John slapped him hard. “Hey you fuck, I already told you, stop admiring the lass titties. You’ll have some tits tonight after you beat some sense into this woman. Remember what’s at stake here!” The Irish grunt yelled some sense into him and George simply nodded at everything he said.

Time’s up!

“Remember what I’ve told you” said John and George nodded once more before bringing his fists up to meet Emma in the center of the ring. Truth to be told, this was one of the most exhausting fights he had ever done. Fighting men, most of the time he had just to endure the pain while beating the lights out of each other but Emma really worked him up. “Cmon, let me give you more free shots” said George as he leaned his face out. It was a trap, his hands were ready to catch Emma’s and God knows what damage he would do if the plan worked.