by Arby
Jazzmon stalked around the house like a caged panther, a sleek, black, panther. She was angry, no she was really pissed off. All she wanted to to was to make this video. Eric, who was supposed to operate the camera was holed up in his bedroom on the phone with a woman trying to get laid, Jazzmon thought. Mike who was there to appear in the video was jealous of everyone who moved, of Eric, of Jazzmon's clients who emailed her and who called on the phone. He was even jealous of her good friend who was not even in the state at the time. He wanted to monopolize every minute of her time, with his sessions of foot worship.
Jazzmon finally had gotten them together and they were about ready to shoot. She could feel the adrenaline starting to flow, causing the blood to pump up her muscles. She was muscular, all right, but not exactly like the typical bodybuilder, more like a finely tuned athlete. The action started, she was doing fake punches and Mike was falling on the sofa. He had been unable to get it right, so she was getting more and more pissed off as the shooting went along. She pulled Mike to his feet. A thought crossed her mind and an evil grin crossed her face. She cocked her right fist and sent it ripping into Mike's belly for real. A look of shock and pain covered his face. Jazzmon could feel her clit and her mound start to tingle. She pulled Mike to his feet, and smashed a powerful left hook to his jaw. Mike spun around and fell to the floor. Jazzmon grasped his hair and hauled him up again. She could feel herself getting wet. Her left fist buried in Mike's ample gut. He gasped and stated to fold over. Jazzmon turned her sleek body and brought a powerful right uppercut underneath Mike's chin, landing with a loud crack. Mike went up on his toes and them toppled backwards. He was out cold. Jazzmon could feel the fluids flowing down her legs as she nearly had an orgasm as her fist had smashed into Mike's chin. The fact that she had knocked him out overwhelmed her. She exploded in a very intense orgasm, as she stood over his unconscious body.
Part II
by Arby
Jazzmon stood over the unconscious form of Mike, as he was sprawled on the floor at her feet. "Somebody wake this dumb SOB up" she said. "That was great, but it was too short" came the voice from behind the camera. "We need more footage if you are going to sell this." Mike was slowly being brought around by Eric. "We'll get plenty of footage if I have to kill this bastard" she said. "He can't act, he can't even talk on camera. About all he is good for is to be a punching bag, so that is what he will have to be" Jazzmon said. Mike was stirring around now. "What the hell did you do that for?" he asked. "Because you were screwing around, that' s why!" he was told in no uncertain terms by Jazzmon. "What's more, I'm going to keep beating you until we have enough footage for this video. If you don't like it, I suggest that you try to fight back, because otherwise you are in for a terrific beating." Mike blinked his eyes. He couldn't believe what he had just heard. "I'm leaving if that is what you think you are going to do." he said. He had not noticed that one, he had no shirt on, since Jazzmon had torn it off, and two, Jazzmon was standing between him and the door. "Start rolling" she said in the direction of the camera to her cousin. "Okay" came his reply. Mike started for the door. "I'm leaving now" he announced. "Only if you can get through me" was the answer. he swung a clumsy punch at Jazzmon, which she easily ducked. Mike swung again, with an equally clumsy punch. Jazzmon blocked it and ripped her hard fist up into his fat gut. Mike's eyes widened with pain and shock from the powerful punch. "I guess I'll just have to gut you" she said. Over and over again she blasted that hard fist into his soft belly while holding him up with her left hand. UNNNNGGHHHH!! Mike was moaning softly as he felt excruciating pain radiating from his stomach. That punishing fist kept driving into him. Now his feet were lifting up off the floor from the power of Jazzmon's punches. Mike wanted to vomit, but his stomach was empty and nothing except a bit of mucous would come up. At last Jazzmon stopped her pounding and let him slump to the floor. Mike pitched forward to his knees, gagging. She grabbed him by the hair and ran him out the sliding glass door to the patio. Jazzmon shoved him head first into one of the poles supporting the patio roof. Mike hit that and bounced back falling to the floor. Jazzmon pulled him up and went to work. Left hook, WHAM! Right cross, BAM! left belly punch THUMP! right belly punch THUD!! Right uppercut SMASH!! up in the air and into the pool flew Mike. He might have been out cold again from the vicious uppercut, but the water brought him quickly around. He started to protest and beg, but Jazzmon waded into the pool after him. POW! a left hook, BASH! another right cross. Mike desperately tried to swim away from her, but Jazzmon pursued him and caught him. She dragged Mike back to the shallow end of the pool. Now her fists beat a tattoo on his battered face. Left, right, left, right. Mike's head was snapping back and forth, left and right in reaction to the brutal punches from the muscular woman. Now blood was spraying into the pool as her iron fists continued to hammer his face. Finally she dragged him out of the pool and onto the deck. Jazzmon stood him up and began smashing his belly with her hard fist again. Mike gagged and folded over her arm, looking like he was balanced on her fist as she continued to viciously slam her fist into his belly. Then Jazzmon took one step back, set herself, and CRAAKK!! the hardest punch of the entire video a savage right uppercut, exploded under the point of Mike's chin. He lifted into the air and sailed back into the pool again. This time even the shock of the pool water would not revive him. Jazzmon looked down at his unconscious body floating in the pool, reached down, and hauled him out. She laid him out on the deck and made sure that plenty of shots of his beaten and battered face and body were taken with the video camera Blood was running from his nose and mouth, and there were big, red splotches on his belly where her steel fist had landed. "This should be a good video after all," she said. "Even if he can't act, he is an excellent punching bag. Too bad we can't get some shots of his face and belly in a couple of days, after the bruises have fully developed. That would be great, but I have a feeling that when he wakes up this time, he is taking off for good."