YOUNG AMY TURNS THE TABLES, Part II
by TableTurner
This time, he uses his boxing skills and she's doomed.  Almost.


I hid in my room for three days, getting myself ready. I faked sick, didn't
help out any of the kids on the retreat, didn't care. Nobody does to me what
that little bitch did. She's stronger than me, fine. I get that. But I'd
beaten up bigger guys to win my Golden Gloves six years ago, and I new it took
more than strength to win a fight. I was salivating at this chance. She was
dead.

When I finally came out of my room that afternoon, I saw her at the same table
where Frank Peters had beaten her in an arm wrestling match several days back.
She smiled when she saw me, asked me where I'd been hiding, reminded me of her
room number. I seethed at her carefree attitude, told her she'd regret
everything. She giggled that same damn giggle she had when she suffocated me
under her pussy. This was a joke ... and it was on her. I knew how she handled
me before, but if she thought she could take me when I was ready ...? This
time it would be far different. I knew how to prepare, and I was in fighting
shape. I started to walk away, and as I did, Frank Peters came into the
picture. She called him over and challenged him to another match. What was she
up to? She lost three or four days ago and I knew she tried. She looked at me
out of the corner of her eye. She wanted me to see this, and of course, I
couldn't resist.

She took off that ridiculous trench coat and revealed that lithe, strong body
in a tank top. Frank oohed and ahhed, and still bragged gently about how he'd
take her down again. They locked hands, and Frank got the jump. But within
thirty seconds, she had him half way down to the table. Thirty seconds later,
he was done. He was stunned, I was stunned. She explained that in the last few
days, her confidence has been soaring, that confidence is half the battle,
blah, blah. She smiled at me and said, "When a person loses confidence, a
person loses everything. Right Jason?" She was mine. Later that night, I
knocked on her door. She opened the door half way, and her face lit up. "I
thought after I beat Frank, you'd chicken out. I really did!" She opened the
door to reveal herself in only a thong and bra. She would have been
distractingly hot if I wasn't feeling so indistractable. I ignored her attempt
to disarm me, told her that it'd be different now, that 'I know how to fight.'
She smiled and said, "I know. And now I get to beat you at your best." She put
her fists up. Smug little shit had to be kidding.

"You first, princess," I invited.

She threw a straight right hand which I easily side stepped. POW! I hit her
squarely in the jaw. I stopped, all defenses up, to gauge her reaction.

"Damn you," she said. She threw more wild punches and I blocked and parried
every one. I danced a little and started to pepper her face with slow,
deliberate jabs. She finally fell to her knees and cried out "Stop!"

"I told you, you conceited little nothing. You messed with the wrong guy."

I pulled her up by the hair with one hand, and with the other, I gave her a
stern upper cut to the jaw. She fell back against the wall. She started
apologizing!

"Please, I'm sorry, okay you prick, you win, it hurts, stop."

I ignored all that and kept up my onslaught. Every so often, she'd let out a
cry, a moan, show some fear. This was great. In less than a minute, I had her.
Then, BOOM! She got one in. A hard shot to my jaw, out of nowhere. I went down
to one knee, and she bought her knee up to my jaw again. I fell onto my back.
She stood there, shocked.

"Oh man. You're mine, asshole."

She jumped onto me, but I was able to quickly get to my feet before she could
grab me solidly. She threw another punch, missed, and I began countering
steadily. I laughed, told her she was too cocky, I kept taunting her between
and during punches. "How do you like it?" BAM! "Whatcha gonna give me Amy?"
SMACK! "I'm gonna screw your unconscious little body." WHOP!

I hit her hard with a shot to the ribs. The air went out of her, and she was
sobbing on the floor. I sat at her desk, and watched her. She was wailing for
me to leave, offered me money, which was pretty funny. I got into my
underwear. I was gonna do her, and see how she liked being controlled. I
mounted her and teased, "Try to keep me out of you nthis time."

"Oh God, damn it, damn you. My muscles ... they're stronger than yours." She
was crying.

"I beat you up, Jason! I'm stronger. How could you have won? Look at your
stomach, look at mine. I'm a rock. You're nothing like me ..."

I jammed my tongue down her throat, told her to shut up.

I whispered in her ear. Told her that her abs couldn't take what I dished out
and to 'just shut up and enjoy yourself.' She bit my hand. I pulled away, no
blood, but I was distracted and she flung me off of her. She got up, and I
laughed. "Another round?" I asked.

She said, "You didn't hit my abs. You just hit my face. Hit my tummy."

"Fine, whatever," and I did. She tightened and my hand kind of bounced off.

"I didn't even feel that. But you will!" She swung at my stomach, and I
blocked her easily.

"Amy, I am not getting into this with you. I just tapped your stomach lightly
because I thought it would knock you out -- thought you were mush. And I wanna
fuck you while you know what's happening. Now that I see what you can still
take, and I'm gonna chop you down."

"Try it! You can't!"

I hit her again, and it felt like steel. But she let out a cry. "Ouch, damn
you!"

She swung at me, I side stepped and threw a doozy at that sheet metal she
called a 'tummy'. She cried out again, though I confess, it was like hitting a
hard wooden desk.

She went down to her knee. "Jason, my tummy hurts. Don't do this or you'll
regret it!"

"I'll regret -- you little piece of crap," I snarled.

I picked her up by the back of her hair and laid another into her gut. God,
she was hard. But she moaned, "Stop." I was sick of this, telling me I'd
regret it, that she could handle what was clearly making her cry out in pain.
WHAP! Another shot to her gut, more tears from her. Whap, whap, whap! I
unleashed a torrent of punches to her hard middle. It was weird, her stomach
didn't seem to be giving way, it felt so hard still, but regardless, she was
up against the wall crying, so it was all good.

"Let me fall," she begged.

"When I'm done." I put my right hand to her neck and started pounding with my
left, WHAP WHAP WHAP WHAP, twenty, thirty blows.

"Stop Jason, I'll kill you, stop!"

"Fuck you," I laughed maniacally. "Who's killing who?" I switched hands,
started to pound her gut with my right. Maybe fifty shots. She was screaming
in pain! Finally, my arms were shot, and her screaming stopped. I let go of
her neck.

"Now you can fall," I said, out of breath, still focusing on that 'tummy.'

But she just stood there. I looked to her face, and she was smiling.

"Are you done," she giggled.

"What? What are you ... ?

"Is that all you have? Because, I didn't feel it. Well, I felt it, but it
wasn't painful and my abs feel really good. I mean, you hurt my head, bastard,
and I think I'm swollen, but I feel pretty good. Your little beating to my
tummy was actually a nice recovery for me."

I was uncomprehending, maybe because I was so tired. She wound up, and where
normally I could have blocked her, I could barely muster a response. BAM!
Right in my gut.

"Oooh. You're abs aren't nearly as hard as mine." She pulled me up by my hair,
put her hand around my throat and turned me around, slamming me into the wall,
effectively changing our positions. Blow after blow rained into my gut. I was
crying, and I couldn't stop her. My arms were leaden.

Still holding me up by the throat, she said, "Go ahead, take your shot cry
baby."

She gave me her belly, and I kept swung weakly. I bounced off like I was a
feather.

"MMM, " she cooed. "Do it again."

And I did, but each punch I threw had all the strength of a fallen leaf. Each
blow was being deflected by nothing but her stomach muscles. She was grinning.
I was so frustrated! "Stop smiling at me, stop it!" She grinned inches from my
face.

"Wipe it off of me, Jason. Wipe off my smile!"

I pulled my fist back and hit her in the jaw. She kind of tensed her neck
muscles and just took the punch. Her smile stayed.

"Oh my gosh, you're so completely finished. Hit me again!"

I swung again, and she caught my fist in between her neck and jaw. I was
actually stuck.

"You're like a little boy," she laughed.

She raised her head and released my fist. Again and again I tried, but my
punches connected to zero avail. And was giggling the whole time.

I was almost passed out on my feet, crying, begging her to fall. She turned
her back to me and said, "Do your worst. I won't look at you."

I demanded that she face me, "fight me like I'm in the room, at least, you
--!"

"Jason is afraid, Jason is afraid," she teased.

I put everything into this one. I hit her in her lower back. It was steel.
Nothing. The only pain felt was the tendon on my fingers from the muscles she
had down there. I punched at her shoulders, she giggled. I hit her upper back,
she laughed more. I kept trying, almost ready to puke, hitting her as hard as
my arms would let me, and she complimented me on being a 'fine masseuse, once
again.' Then, she wrapped her arm round my throat and flexed her muscle into
my neck.

"I can beat you with my muscle," she tittered. I pleaded with her: "Please
don't do this to me Amy, please Amy, let me go." But she flexed and her bicep
cut into my throat. I was standing on my the tips of my toes, holding onto her
back, fighting for air, digging my fingers into her iron shoulders, pawing at
her arm, and she ignored my cries. She kept flexing and releasing, flexing and
releasing. After a few minutes she stretched out her arm and I fell to the
floor, unconscious.

When I woke up, she was beside me, perched up on her left hand, her right on
my chest.

"Knockout by Amy Southerland," she smiled. I tried to roll away, but she
grabbed my throat and began counting to ten. When I woke up, she grabbed my
throat and put me under again. And again. And again. Finally on what may have
been the fifth or the hundredth time, I was able to hoarsely whimper, "Please,
no more, no more, no more." And she did it again, and again, and again.