The Rematch

By Jabberwock

Man forces rematch with Mary who uses fists and panties to humiliate him.

After our exciting scrap in the woods, the tension between Mary and me continued to rise. Nothing had been settled in our fight, no clear winner had emerged and, if anything, more resentment had been engendered by the lack of a decisive ending than had been resolved by the punches we had landed.

For a week or two we just ignored each other and then, little by little, started sniping at each other at work. Part of it was me. Although it had been something of a humiliation for me to not have been able to beat her in a fistfight, I had to admit to myself that the encounter had been very exciting and I realized I was longing to have at her again, to see if I could emerge the victor this time. It's not that I'm a bully or a sadist, because I'm not. The fact that Mary fought back so well is what made the encounter exciting. I have no desire to just beat up on a weak, helpless woman, I just found it stimulating, in an odd sexual way, to pit myself against a worthy female opponent in a physical contest and see if I could dominate her.

Mary seemed to want a rematch too, although she never referred directly to our fight she did make a few remarks about how she thought I had learned my lesson, that I was a sissy and she should teach me some respect, pay me back for my nasty behavior towards her, etc. OK, so I am a bit of a sissy, and I won't pretend that there wasn't a little fear in me about facing her again, I still had strong memories of her hard little fists, but I resented being called a sissy by her. In my heart, though, I was also quite excited about the prospect of fighting her again and spent more than a little time imagining it and what I would do differently this time to beat her.

One problem I saw with our first fight was that we were wearing too many clothes. I think we were both trying to fight and protect our clothes at the same time, with the result that we didn't really do a good job of either, the fight was inconclusive since neither of us was able to really get through to the other, and our clothes got messed up anyway. If we ever fought again, I wanted to be in shorts and a T-shirt and, although I told myself it didn't matter what she wore, I secretly wanted to see her strip down, too.

Another problem I wanted to correct was that I had let her dictate the style of fighting. Mary showed herself to be good with her fists and was smart enough to realize that, with my size and weight advantage, she would lose if she allowed the fight to become a brawl. She had tried to stay out of my grasp and just throw punches, but allowed me to tackle her to the ground. When we were grappling on the ground I had the upper hand, but she had clearly dominated when we stood toe-to-toe and threw punches. I resolved that I would turn this into a mauling, wrestling brawl and not let her take the initiative as I did in the last fight.

It finally came to a head a few weeks later. We had been saying offhand nasty things to each other all day and finally, after one of my rude remarks, she threw down the papers she was holding and faced me and said, "I've had it. This place is too small for the two of us, one of us will have to go."

I told her that I had been there longer and that I wasn't going to quit just because she said so. I then told her that there was only one way to settle this.

"What did you have in mind?" she asked, her eyes shining.

"What do you think?" I said, barely able to contain my excitement.

"OK, fine," she replied with no hesitation. "But this time, my place, and we fight until someone quits or is knocked out, ok? This time, we settle it, one of us crawls away a loser and quits this job, agreed?"

Heart pounding with excitement, I happily agreed. Here was my chance at last to show her that I could whip her in a fair fight.

I showed up at her house at the appointed time. She lived with a roommate in a small cottage in a nice neighborhood. I balked when Mary told me that her roommate would referee the fight. I didn't really want anyone else around and this wasn't a boxing match, it was an all-out fistfight and we didn't need a referee and I told her so.

"What's the matter," she teased, "afraid of getting embarrassed?"

"No way," I said, angrily, "Let's go!"

She had cleared out the living room, all the furniture was pushed to the side and there was an empty space in the middle of the room. She and I stripped down, she to her bra and panties and me to a t-shirt and jockey shorts. Her roommate, Nancy, stood quietly by, watching us. Nancy never did much refereeing, she was really more of a spectator, but I wasn't to find that out until later.

Again, like in the woods, we just started going at each other without saying another word. I was amazed at how she just came at me, swinging her fists, without fear or hesitation. She immediately tagged me with a couple of straight left hooks, snapping my head back. I blew air out my mouth and advanced on her, looking for an opening that I could use to grab her and tackle her to the floor. She kept me at bay with stinging jabs and I was unable to get close to her. After a minute or two during which she scored several times to my unprotected face and belly, I realized I had been too focused on trying to grapple with her and hadn't thrown many punches. I knew she could hurt me, so I backed off and tried to rethink my plan.

Mary gave me no time to regroup. She followed me step for step, throwing punches like mad. Not all of her wild punches landed, but enough did to do some damage and make me feel increasingly dazed and weak. A solid left connected with my jaw, a right hook landed on my eye snapping my head around, a left to the belly, then an uppercut to the chin had me reeling. My guard was down and I was wide open for the big roundhouse right she threw that sent me spinning to the floor where I lay, woozy, blood trickling from my nose. Omigod, I thought, I'm getting beaten up. Badly. I'm getting whipped by a girl, I thought to myself through my haze, Mary is giving me a beating. A really bad beating. A REALLY BAD BEATING! This horrifying thought swirled through my dazed mind and I quailed inside with the hopelessness of the situation I had precipitated for myself. An involuntary sob escaped from somewhere deep inside me.

I tried to delay on the floor for a while to collect myself and get my head to stop spinning, but Mary was having none of that. Impatiently, she came and stood over me with her fists cocked and ordered me to get up. I was so cowed by her I actually obeyed, even though I knew it meant more punishment. I struggled up with my arms protecting my face and body as best as I could, but she punched right through my guard and decked me with a hard right to the jaw. This time she didn't wait for me to get up, she came and grabbed me by the front of my shirt and pulled me up, shook me a bit and started to administer punishment.

The next few minutes were a nightmare of helplessness and humiliation. Mary held me in place with a handful of my shirt in her left hand while sending short, stinging punches into my face with her right fist, alternating with occaisional forehand-backhand slap combinations. I was unable to get away and no longer had the strength to push her off. I was in pure defensive mode now, just trying to block her slaps and punches with only partial success. Mary seemed able to hit me at practically at will. Pow! Pow! Pow! My head snapped back repeatedly as she pasted me again and again. Unhhh! Oww! Nooooo! Ooof! Stop! Ohhhhh! I grunted, moaned, whimpered, and begged her to stop.

After what seemed like an eternity of this punishment, my t-shirt finally tore open completely and I fell backwards against the wall, the tattered scraps of the shirt remaining in Mary's hand. I was really seeing stars at this point and my face, particularly the left side, was a mess. She had bruised my jaw and cheek, opened up a small cut on my cheekbone and one over my left eye, which was now swollen shut. My lips were puffy and my nose was bleeding. I was still on my feet, but barely. My head was spinning and I was humiliated and in pain and I felt tears stinging my eyes. I no longer thought much about winning this fight, only how best to avoid Mary's devastating fists.

We stood for what seemed like a long time, staring at each other without talking, catching our breaths. The only sound in the room was my pitiful whimpering. Then, Nancy, whom I had forgotten about entirely, spoke into the silence, "Go get him, Mary, kick that sissy's ass." I realized then that both women could see that I was going to lose this fight, and they both were enjoying seeing me get beaten and humiliated by Mary. With a desperate moan, I pushed myself away from the wall, raised my fists and rushed at Mary in a last, desperate attempt to salvage some measure of dignity from my encounter with Mary which had gone so wrong.

Wham! "Unhh", I gasped as Mary buried her left fist deep into my already bruised midsection. Pow! "Ahhrg", I cried as she tagged me with a right uppercut that lifted me to my toes. Crack! She followed up with a wicked right cross that sent me crashing back against the wall. I couldn't believe how hard Mary had just hit me. Now, I was really in trouble. I could see out of my one good eye that she was approaching fists raised, a determined look on her face, but obviously in no hurry. She wanted the one-sided fight to continue. A huge sob escaped me as I realized that Mary was enjoying herself and meant to make it last.

Nancy told me later that she and Mary had talked about the fight before I arrived that night and that they both agreed on one thing, Nancy told me later, that I deserved a really humiliating beating. They talked about strategies for making the fight last as long as possible, as well as ways to thoroughly and completely "sissify" me. I was about to find out what they meant by that.

I lay sobbing on the floor, hoping that Mary was finished with me. Nancy and Mary had a brief quiet conversation that I didn't hear and then, to my horror, Mary approached me. I tried to scrabble away, but she caught me and, before I could do anything about it, she stripped off my jockey shorts leaving me naked on the floor. I cried and tried to hide myself and crawl away on my hands and knees, but she delivered a tremendous kick to my rear end sending me forward onto my face on the floor. Again, I tried to rise to my hands and knees and crawl away, and again she kicked me back to the floor, laughing. I could tell she was enjoying this, but I didn't know how to stop it. I sobbed in frustration. Then she and Nancy both grabbed me and, before I knew it, they had slipped a large pair of pink nylon panties on me and then they stood back. The panties had a frilly lace flounce, like a lacy skirt, attached to them. I couldn't believe what they had done to me and my first instinct was to try to snatch the frilly panties off my body, but Mary was too quick; she slapped my hands away and socked me in the jaw. I made one more attempt to remove the panties with similar results, this time my punishment was a forehand and backhand slap across the face. I couldn't believe that she intended to make me finish this fight not stripped naked, but wearing women's underpanties.

"You leave those panties on!" she ordered, "Now that you're properly dressed as the pussy-whipped sissy you are, you're going to get what's coming to you! You can cry all you want, but you know you deserve every bit of this." Then, she grabbed my hair and the front of the panties, pulled me to my feet (a humiliation in itself), cocked her fists and, promising to teach me a lesson I'd never forget, she began to work me over but good, punctuating her punches with insults and taunts.

"Put me down to the boss behind my back, will you!" she said, and Biff!, socked me with her left.

"Insult me to my friends, huh!" and Pow!, around came her right to crash into my swollen lips.

"Gonna kick my ass, pantywaist?" she taunted and Whump!, punched me in my unprotected stomach.

"'Weaker sex', huh?" Crack!, Another hard little fist crashed against my jaw.

"I'll teach you a lesson you never forget, you sissy boy!" and Crunch!, gave me a knee-lift to the balls.

I guess I can't fully describe how humiliating it was to have to take this beating standing there helplessly, wearing nothing but women's pink lacy nylon underpants. I had never considered this kind of outcome to a fight with Mary. I thought the whole thing would be exciting and erotic and, although I had considered the possibility that I might lose, it never occurred to me that Mary would want to not just beat me to an absolute pulp, but take such pleasure in heaping unbelievable humiliation on me in the process. She was beating every last ounce of self-respect out of me and all I could do was stagger around, mewling like a baby, wearing nothing but these sissy panties and take it, which is what I did.

It continued this way for a while and I could tell by the little smile that occaisionally touched her determined face that she was enjoying this immensely. Finally, my rubbery legs could support me no longer and I sagged downward, grasping at her for support. She stepped back, allowing me to slip down to my knees where I knelt hugging her legs, sobbing and blubbering. I was shamed and bruised and badly beaten up, and still couldn't quite believe what she had done to me. Mary paused for a while to savor this moment and Nancy took a flash picture. I can still see this picture in my mind's eye, although I tore up the copy they gave me. It shows me, dressed in those feminine pink panties, my face darkened by bruises, left eye swollen shut, nose bleeding, bawling like a baby on my knees with my arms clutched around Mary's strong legs. If they wanted to record a symbol of my shame, my "sissification" if you will, and the utter contempt with which they had treated me on that terrible night, they couldn't do any better than this picture.

Then, Mary kicked me loose and stepped back to admire her handiwork, leaving me to fall to the floor, sobbing. I was in full cry at this point, taking the beating of my life. It wasn't the pain so much as the humiliation that had brought me to tears, even though I realized that crying only increased my shame. Nancy took another picture. I was on my butt on the floor with my back to the wall and my legs spslayed out in front of me, wearing the symbol of my shame, those oversized frilly panties, head down and weeping, the picture of humiliated defeat. This was not at all what I'd had in mind for this fight, to wind up stripped and humiliated at Mary's feet, shown up to be the sissy I always knew I was. When I finally looked up and saw through my tears that both women were standing there, pointing and laughing and I realized, to my horror, that my cock was rapidly growing into a large hardon.

"Look, Mary" Nancy said laughing, "he likes it. What a sissy! He's turned on by wearing panties!" And they both laughed. "What a pathetic little cock he has, it looks like it's ready to shoot!"

After much taunting and giggling about me lying there in those panties, which caused my embarrassing condition to return to normal, Mary and Nancy hoisted me up and Mary sat down, pulling me across her lap. My sobbing increased as I realized that, on top of all the other indignities I had endured at Mary's hands, I was about to receive an old-fashioned, over-the-knees spanking. I could not believe what was happening, but there was something very erotic about being pulled across Mary's bare legs, past her silky panties, and into that classic spanking position. My cock had a will of its own and, between the fondling while encased in its silky prison, and then being pressed and rolled against Mary's bare leg, it grew hard once again. Then, the spanking began, hard, stinging smacks to my nylon-covered rear. As she spanked me, Mary moved her leg around, manipulating my cock and making it throb. I howled with pain and the shame of being spanked in panties, but Mary continued until, completely unbidden by me, my cock shot out a huge wad of creamy semen. Feeling the wetness on her leg, Mary stood up suddenly dumping me off her lap.

"Did you make a mess in your panties?" Mary demanded (as if that wasn't exactly what she had intended). "Did you??? Answer me!!!" she ordered, slapping me several times across the face and my sore, red, nylon clad bottom. "I...I...I'm sorry...No!...I mean, yes! I mean, I'm sorry, please, don't hit me anymore. NO!!!" I pleaded. "How dare you!! I'll teach you to make a mess in your panties," Mary hissed at me and grabbed me by the hair and the front of my panties, pulling me off the floor.

"Look at yourself," she ordered, "How dare you appear before me dressed in panties!? How dare you come in your panties right in front of me!? Look at that mess!!! You're going to be punished for this, you panty-waist sissy!"

Taking advantage of my helplessness, Mary spent the next few minutes bitch-slapping me around the room. This was my punishment for coming in my panties, which now had a large, sticky mess in them. I think she also wanted to see me helpless in panties and give Nancy some more photo opportunities with my newly "redocorated" panties. And, she probably wanted to spend some more time enjoying her total dominance of me and savoring her victory. Nancy told me later that she loved that part of the fight, took several pictures, and loves to look at them and show her friends what I looked like, pathetic and sobbing and wearing pink flouncy panties with a big wet stain on the front. For my part, there was nothing I could do but take my punishment, wailing and crying like the beaten sissy loser Mary had proven me to be.

Finally, Mary tired and stepped back. My knees were rubbery and I staggered helplessly, my arms dangling uselessly at my sides. "Time for lights out, wimp!" she said. Nancy steadied me in position in front of Mary and then stepped back. Mary stood with her hands on her hips and then said, "I hope you learned your lesson, you pussy-whipped little sissy!" and then launched a huge right that came from way back and crashed into my jaw sending me flying backwards into the wall where I hit, bounced forward and landed on my face, spread-eagled on the floor, the world rapidly fading to black.

When I came to, Mary was not in the room. I was lying on my back on the floor, still dressed only in those frilly panties and Nancy was leaning over applying ice to my black eye and bruised jaw. She had wiped the blood off my face, but I felt beaten, sore and ashamed. As she daubed at my bruised face, Nancy taunted me by talking about the fight and told me that she had never seen anyone get such a thorough beating in her life, although she had seen many fights, and that she could only imagine how ashamed and humiliated I must be to have been whipped by a girl in a fair fight, and badly to boot. She told me that she loved seeing me turned into a panty-wearing sissy and that it had been very exciting to her to see a man get so totally humiliated by a woman and that she hoped I would want a rematch so she could see it again. I didn't reply, but knew that I would avoid any further contact with Mary for the rest of my life.