Boxing Domination




http://genderbattles.blogspot.nl/2010/12/boxing-domination.html

It was supposed to be a pleasant weekend getaway in the mountains. I was a
senior in college, and my roommate Brad was heading to his girlfriend's family
cabin with some friends to relax and get away from it all. Kimberly, Brad's
sweet girlfriend, invited me along. In addition to the three of us there were
three other people there: two girls from Kimberly's sorority and her older
sister Jill. Jill was nearly thirty and had recently undergone a messy,
painful divorce. As a result, she was living at home with her parents, and
Kimberly had asked her to come even though she was eight years older than the
rest of us, to help her relax and take her mind off her many stresses.

Unfortunately, Brad proved to be a new stress for Jill. From the moment we
arrived, Brad was needling her about this or that. I'm not sure why; maybe it
was because Brad was basically a jerk. I mean, he was my roommate and all, but
it's no surprise that it was Kimberly who invited me. He had a tendency to
forget I was even there unless he needed something.

So as we played croquet before lunch on Saturday, Brad amused himself by
"sending" Jill's ball three times, ensuring that she came in last. As we all
gathered in the kitchen a little later to prepare lunch, Brad made a few
comments about Jill's apparent lack of culinary skill. "I guess that's why you
couldn't stay married," he quipped. She smiled and tried to laugh it off, but
I could tell it hurt. Later in the day, as we sat outside and sipped drinks in
the shade, the conversation turned towards our futures, since five of us were
about to graduate college. "Of course, we could just all live with our parents
when we're thirty," Brad joked. Nobody laughed, and Jill left to go to the
bathroom. Kimberly chastised him, but he didn't care. Brad didn't mind
laughing at his own jokes.

After dinner we were sitting in the spacious living room of the cabin,
drinking once again, when one of Kimberly's sorority sisters discovered a
large closet. "Look at all this stuff!" she said, dragging toys and games out.
"Here's Monopoly ... and look! A kite! Too bad it's getting dark or we could
go fly it."

By this time Kimberly and the other sorority sister were both helping pull old
items from the closet. "Here's a jump rope," said the other girl. "I remember
that!" exclaimed Kimberly.

"Cool!" the first girl suddenly shouted. "Boxing gloves!" She held out two
sets of Everlast boxing gloves for us all to admire.

"Why in the world does your family have boxing gloves in your cabin?" I asked
Kimberly.

"I have no idea," said Kimberly. Jill shrugged her shoulders. In the meantime
the two sorority sisters had slipped the gloves on and were dancing around,
trying to whack each other. They were quite silly, and we all laughed. Neither
was in any danger from the other. Brad couldn't stand being out of the
spotlight for so long. "Good God," he said in disgust. "That's not how you
box. Here, give me those." He walked toward one of the sorority sisters who
obviously didn't want to relinquish her set of gloves but did so anyway.

Assuming the voice of authority, Brad began to lecture us all on the art of
boxing as he tried to lace up his gloves. Kimberly helped him.

"So who wants to spar a few rounds with me?" he asked. I quickly shook my
head, knowing how competitive Brad gets. Whether he wins or loses, he's no fun
when any kind of competition is involved. The sorority girls both said they
wanted to fight each other, not him. Kimberly was just about to agree to box
with him if he promised not to hurt her when suddenly Jill piped up.

"I'll box with you," she said.

"Come on, Jill," Brad sneered. "I wouldn't want to hurt an old lady."

Jill walked forward, her eyes smoldering. I stared at her as she pulled the
other pair of gloves on. She was only eight years older than the rest of us,
but those years had taken a toll. Nevertheless, she was pretty attractive""her
scarlet lipstick matched her fingernails and toenails, and she had on tasteful
amounts of mascara and rouge. She wore a white halter top and matching shorts
that showed her body's ample curves. Jill wasn't a small woman, though not an
amazon either by any means.

Brad insisted on having Kimberly tape his gloves on, "like the pros," he kept
saying, while Jill didn't seem overly concerned about hers even being tied
that tightly. Once Brad was ready the two faced each other in the middle of
the room. It looked pretty silly: big, athletic Brad taunting this curvy but
non-athletic looking woman.

As Brad hammed it up and stuck out his chin, Jill let fly a punch. She lived
up to the expression "you punch like a girl," but nevertheless the blow caught
Brad squarely in the nose and made him step back a bit. Quickly he laughed it
off and thrust his chin forward again, daring Jill to repeat the punch. She
tried but he dodged ... once, twice, three times he made her miss. He began to
make comments about her bouncing chest, which made Jill turn red, but she kept
missing with her wild punches.

Soon Brad did the tired old trick of putting one of his hands on Jill's
forehead, holding her at arms length. She windmilled several punches that fell
short. He was laughing hysterically, but nobody else thought it was that
amusing. In fact, I was about to suggest that we find another pastime when
suddenly Jill swatted Brad's arm away with her left glove and stepped forward
with a beautiful straight right hand into Brad's nose.

It was a lucky punch, but effective. Not expecting the blow, Brad had been
standing flatfooted, and Jill's punch knocked him off his feet. As he fell,
his head bounced off a table. Brad scrambled to his feet quickly but he was
obviously in pain. He rushed at Jill and smashed a fierce blow, not into her
face, but into her chest. She yelped and doubled over. "Take that, bitch,"
Brad barked at her, rubbing the back of his head. From her knees, Jill swung
her right glove upward straight into his groin. Now Brad dropped to his knees
while Jill stood up. He grunted obscenities at her until she punched him on
the back of his head, sending him to the hard wood floor.

Pouncing on his back, Jill sent punches raining down on the back of his head.
While the force of her blows themselves probably didn't do major injury, each
blow battered his face against the wood floor.

It's not easy to keep Brad down, though, and soon he pushed his way to his
hands and knees and rolled Jill off. She scurried away and then made a
decisive move: she put her right fist into her armpit and pried off her boxing
glove, then repeated the maneuver for her left hand. Now her hands were
free""and she wasted no time in using this advantage. While Brad struggled to
get to his feet, Jill wrapped her fingers through his hair and jerked him
forward, shaking his head violently back and forth as she did. He tried to
resist but she had the leverage. Jill pulled him around the room, keeping him
off balance, and finally threw him face down on the floor. As he tried again
to climb to his feet, awkwardly because of his gloves, Jill seized the hair on
his forehead with her left hand and forced his face upward, then smashed her
right fist into his chin. He collapsed on the floor.

For the last several moments the other four of us had watched in shock.
Kimberly grew nearly hysterically upset, seeing her boyfriend and sister
hurting each other, and she had been hovering near them, wanting to intervene
but unsure how. I surprised myself in that I was cheering Jill on, glorying in
the beating she was giving Brad. And the two sorority sisters had actually
been screaming encouragement to Jill.

Brad now looked like a wild animal as he started to rise once again. The look
of determination and hatred on his face was truly scary. Jill looked confident
as she stood over him, waiting to strike him again, her polished nails
standing out against her clothing as she had her hands on her hips, her ample
bosom heaving as she breathed in excitement.

But this time Brad lunged from his knees and tackled her. They wrestled for
advantage, and I assumed that Jill had had it; Brad was so much bigger it
didn't seem she would have a chance. But wearing the boxing gloves, he was
unable to grab hold of Jill. She, meanwhile, was able to scratch, grab, pinch,
squeeze, claw, and otherwise abuse Brad with her long fingers and sharp nails.
Moreover, she used her legs as weapons, first kicking him as the rolled around
on the floor, and then wrapping them around his midsection and holding him at
bay.

Within a minute of his knocking Jill to the floor, she had managed to gain a
decisive advantage over Brad. He was on his back, helpless, as she sat on his
chest, her fleshy thighs pinning his arms to his sides. Brad could only kick
his legs feebly as Jill squeezed his chin with her left hand, digging her
nails into his skin, and leisurely smashed his face with punches from her
right hand. They weren't that hard, since she really didn't know how to punch
that well, but the cumulative effect of these and the other blows she had
already landed was to knock him nearly unconscious and cause the right side of
his face to have become red and swollen. His lips and nose trickled blood.

"Please, Jill, stop!" Kimberly managed to sob. These words seemed to wake Jill
up, as though she hadn't realized what she had been doing. I think all of us
were caught up in the surrealness of the situation. Jill stood up, straddling
the semi-conscious Brad. She looked at her distraught sister and quietly
apologized.

Always the asshole, even in defeat, Brad, from his position on the floor
between Jill's legs, began cursing. "You bitch," he spat, "I'm going to hurt
you bad. And your sister, too. Kimberly, why the hell did you just watch?
You're both bitches!" As he spoke, he had raised himself to his elbows and he
suddenly sent a punch into Jill's crotch, much as she had punched his groin
earlier. She recoiled backward in pain.

Perhaps it took this moment to realize how awful her boyfriend really was. At
any rate, Kimberly's allegiance to her sister, and not to Brad, became clear.
She leapt forward and tried to strike Brad. Instead he partially blocked the
blow and, from his knees, punched back, catching her in the stomach, doubling
her over. I moved forward to help her but I was too late.

Kimberly's sorority sisters came to her rescue before I could intervene. Small
and prissy, perhaps, they nevertheless moved in from either side and somehow
each managed to twist one of his arms behind his back. Together they held him,
despite his struggles, with his arms bent into a painful double hammerlock. He
spat cursed at him as they dug their fingernails into his upper arms. "Come
on, girls," one of them shouted to Kimberly and Jill.

Kimberly stood in front of him, eying her now former boyfriend, as he squirmed
defiantly but helplessly in the grasp of her two friends. Thump! She sent a
fist into his stomach. "That's for forgetting my birthday," she said. Thump!
THUMP!! She struck him twice more, this time hitting his solar plexus. "That's
for never trying to satisfy me in bed," she said as he gasped and wheezed,
sucking madly but getting no air. If the sorority sisters hadn't been holding
his arms he would have collapsed to the floor. Thump! Kimberly struck him
again. "That's for leaving me alone last Friday night." He groaned and began
to beg, quietly, pathetically, for mercy. But Kimberly had none. After five or
ten more punches to his body, she stepped aside, massaging her hands and
wrists.

Now Jill stepped forward. Brad had sagged to his knees, but the sorority girls
still had his arms hammerlocked so he couldn't fall forward. Jill stood over
him, holding his chin once again in her left hand. She forced him to look up
at her. The sight is burned into my mind: two small college girls holding my
big athletic roommate's arms behind his back as this older woman drove her
scarlet fingernails into his cheeks and talked down to him. A look of
satisfaction shone on her lipsticked lips, a look of victory twinkled in her
mascaraed eyes, and a look of humiliation and defeat lay on his swollen face.

With one final blow, Jill knocked Brad out. The girls finally let his arms go
and allowed him to slide to the floor unconscious. The four of us stared at
him for a moment and then looked around at each other. Jill and Kimberly
embraced in a hug, overcome with sisterly emotion.

The two sorority girls glanced at each other, then at me, and then smiled
deviously. "Intergender boxing is a great sport!" one of them yelled, and the
both fell to their knees and quickly began pulling one set of boxing gloves
off Brad's slumbering form. "Don't go anywhere," the other girl said, staring
straight at me. "This pair is for you! Brad warmed them up for you!"

It turned out to be a long night. Painful at times ... but the stuff dreams
are made of.