The Womanly art of Handling a Man by M.C. A strong, tough woman explains the finer points of her philosophy as well as the techniques she uses when conducting a 'Woman Handling' Session. Hello to all of you who read this. Let me begin. I'm sure you're all familiar with the phrase 'to manhandle' someone. Well I'm going to explain to you the female version which, unfortunately, is much, much rarer - although given the abuse that females have had to endure from men throughout history as well as today, it really shouldn't be. Let me start by introducing myself. My name is Janet, but you can call me Jan; all my friends do. I'm a 22 year-old college senior majoring in biology and my goal is to become a marine biologist. I'm also a five foot-ten inch, rather muscular 175 pound woman and champion shot putter and discuss thrower; and, oh yes, I also hold a third degree black belt in tai kwon do. In other words, I can be a pretty tough cookie when I want to be. I rarely use my strength and fighting abilities though, except when it comes to bullies who abuse their girlfriends. Then I have what I call a 'woman handling' session with them - like the one I did with Jimmy two weeks ago. I devised my technique when I was a 16 year-old girl in high school; but then I called it a 'girl handling' session. Now, being a 22 year-old woman, I decided an upgrade was necessary . So I changed it to "Woman Handling". So without further ado, here's how it goes: Jimmy was dating Joan, one of my best friends, until three weeks ago that is when he unceremoniously dumped her for a cheerleader. Joan was shocked and shaken. She came to me crying and stayed with me through the night. Before she left the following morning I assured her that everything would be all right. "How do you know that Jan?" she asked with a perplexed look on her face. "Oh, I just know," I replied, then added with a cryptic smile,"I think what Jimmy needs is a good woman handling session." I'm pretty sure Joan had no idea what I meant by that because I tend to keep this aspect of my life a secret, even from my closest friends. But Joan did seem to be in much better shape then when she came over the day before. As I stated earlier, I don't like bullies or guys who treat women disrespectfully; the truth is I despise them. But unlike most females, I can actually do something about it. Hence my 'woman handling' sessions. They're quite easy to explain actually. I simply invite the rogue over to my apartment and put him through a series of, well, shall we say 'events', until he sees the errors of his ways. The sessions usually last anywhere between two to four hours, depending on how tough the guy is. Personally I prefer the longer sessions - the tougher the guy, the greater the satisfaction when I finally break him. I really hate wimps, guys who break down and start to cry after a only few punches; they're no fun at all. Fortunately for me, Jimmy - being a linebacker on the university's football team - proved to be one of the tougher guys I've dealt with. More fun for me (wink). Getting him (and guys in general) to come to my apartment is always the easiest part; ridiculously easy in fact. The reason being, well, I'm quite attractive if I do say so myself. As I said before, I'm tall, very fit, with long, dark brown hair; the kind guys seem to like. All it takes to 'set my trap' so to speak, is to flash the guy a pretty smile and invite them over; and they always come - and Jimmy was no exception. At four o'clock in the afternoon, as we agreed, the doorbell to my apartment located just across the street from the university rang and I invited Jimmy in (I doubt he paid any attention when I locked the door behind him and put the key in my pocket). He had the usual smug smile all guys have when I invite them over, thinking, no doubt, that I asked him here for, well, you-know-what. He wouldn't be wearing that smile too much longer however. "Jimmy," I calmly began as I kicked off my running shoes (I had just returned from a 10 kilometer run) and tied my long brown hair back into a ponytail,"we need to have a serious discussion about your behavior." "Wait. About what?" he asked, suddenly confused by what I had just said (this was obviously not what he had been expecting). "About the way you treated my good friend Joan. Dumping her like she was a piece of garbage. You hurt her very much and that wasn't very nice; not nice at all. I'm afraid you've been a very naughty boy Jimmy, so I'm going to have to teach you a lesson on how to respect women." As you can see, I don't like small talk before a woman handling session. I believe in getting straight to the point. As I spoke, I slowly began to approach him, smacking my right fist hard into my left palm as I did. If you had been watching this scene unfold, you might have thought it looked a little bizarre - that a woman, albeit a strong, fit woman like me, would be threatening a six-foot three-inch, 225 pound, tough college football linebacker. Jimmy certainly did, until - CRACK! - I slapped him hard across the face with my open right hand (a strong, hard slap, if done properly, can hurt just as much as a good punch). "Why you bitch!" he screamed."If it's a fight you want, you've got one!" "My, my, what a potty mouth you have there Jimmy. It looks like I need to teach you some manners too," I smirked as I slapped him again. WHACK! And the fight was on. But I suppose 'fight' isn't exactly the right word for what Jimmy and I did; perhaps 'massacre' would be a more accurate description as he never really stood a chance. As I stated earlier, I'm not only large, strong and fit, I'm also as tough as nails and an expert in martial arts. The only advantage this pompous, self-absorbed macho jock had over me was a slight (and I do mean slight) superiority in physical strength, which was easily countered by my toughness, calmness under pressure and my vastly superior fighting skills. Like every male I've ever fought, Jimmy thought brute strength would be enough to prevail against a girl like me - and like every guy I've ever fought, he was dead wrong. His wild punches mostly caught nothing but air, and the few that he manage to hit me with (and I do mean few) were totally ineffective - bouncing off my rock-hard shoulders and muscular abs like tennis balls against a tank. My punches and kicks on the other hand were quick, accurate and powerful (remember the third degree black belt in tae kwon do); and he had virtually no defense against them. After only a few minutes, he was bleeding from the nose and lip, and had what would soon become a beautiful black eye; one of the most beautiful I've ever given a guy. "Oh come on Jimmy,"I teased,"surely a big, strong, rough, tough macho guy like you can do better than this against a girl." (I just love teasing guys while I'm beating them up; it's so erotic). Understand, I'm not by nature, a sadistic girl. My friends say I'm a nice, fun-loving person. But I'm also not a turn-the-other cheek kind of girl either. If someone (like Jimmy in this case) callously hurts a friend of mine, then I believe that a good woman handling session is necessary. I'd be lying though if I said that I didn't take any pleasure in pounding these pompous 'tough guys' into submission like I was then in the process of pounding Jimmy. But I wouldn't do it if they didn't deserve it; and in Jimmy's case, as with the others I've dealt with, their beating was entirely justified. THUMP! CRACK! SMACK! Jimmy found himself on my nice, comfy carpet. There's also an erotic angle for me in it too. Beating the crap out of big, strong guys and breaking them with my superior female power has, for some reason, always turned me on. Not being a psychologist I can't give you a professional answer, but it might have something to do with my having a strong, female role model when I was growing up...my mother. She was - and still is - a tough, no nonsense lawyer who firmly believes that in order for a female to make it in this world it's not enough for a woman to be just as tough as a man, she has to be tougher; both physically and mentally. That's why she began teaching me tai kwon do from an early age (she's also a third degree black belt). "In this world a girl has to know how to defend herself Janet," she would say to me,"that's why I want you to be strong honey - so that you'll never have to take bullshit from any man." It's a lesson I took to heart. And thanks to my mother's influence, I became the strong, tough, self-confident woman that I am today; and more than a match for any man I've ever met. WHAM! POW! SOCK! As I continued to batter Jimmy around my apartment, I continued to tease him too. "What's the matter tough guy? Is a girl too much for you to handle? Tee, hee, hee." Giggling like a little girl while kicking their ass also rubs in the fact that they're being totally beaten up by a female. CRACK! A powerful, board-shattering roundhouse kick to the side of his face sent Jimmy down on the floor. While he was struggling to get up, I untied my ponytail and fluffed up my long, pretty brown hair (further rubbing in the fact that he was being beaten up by a girl). "Take your time getting up tough guy, because I have all day and still have a lot more in store for you." When he did manage to finally get up I knocked him down again with several more hard punches and kicks to various parts of his body, then calmly resumed fluffing my hair. My woman handling sessions usually consist of three parts. The first is, of course, the beating. I try not to rush it for two reasons. The first is to prove to the guy just how totally inferior to me he is - and the longer I'm beating him, the more he grasps that (a quick knockout doesn't do the trick). And the second reason is, it's just so much damn fun (giggles). To see these big, strong, rough, tough macho guys slowly succumb to my superior female fighting abilities is, as I said before, very erotic; which that's why I hate wimps so much. Fortunately for me, Jimmy was proving to be pretty tough (he was almost on his feet again and ready for more). I tired my hair back into a ponytail again and got back to work - or fun if you will . WHAM! POW! SMASH! CRACK! THUD! And with yet another series of hard, well placed punches and kicks I put this big, strong college football player back on the floor again. "You're getting so used to lying on my carpet Jimmy, that maybe I should bring you a pillow and blanket, tee, hee, hee." Now, where were we? Oh yes, I was explaining to you the three parts of how I conduct my woman handling sessions. We've already covered the first part - the beating. After I beat them physically into submission, I then go to work on their male egos, destroying them like I did their bodies. This can be just as devastating as beating them up. I'll explain in more detail in a few minutes. SMACK! POW! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! Jimmy's all but finished now. His face looks like it's been through a blender. Well actually, it isn't quite so bad as that, though it could have been had I have wanted to. I actually took it relatively easy on him. But it will be awhile before the black eyes, swollen jaw and lips, along with the many other welts and bruises I gave him subsides. I can see that he's had enough though; the poor thing can hardly stand. Time to finish the beating part of the session. WHAM! And with one final right cross to his jaw, I put him down for the count. I can't really explain it but when I stand over a once proud but now totally beaten macho jock, as I've done many times before, I always get turned on. That me, a 22 year-old woman, can bring down this strong, tough athletic jock with nothing more than my fists and feet. I always like to put my right foot on their chests and flex my muscles, basking in my victory over these chauvinistic males. Then I take out my cell phone and take a few selfies (I have a rather nice collection of selfies of me posing over guys after I've beaten them into submission). But since I always promise them that they wouldn't be posted on the internet unless they misbehave again, I'm afraid that I can't show them to you. You'll just have to imagine the scene from my description. O.K. So with the first part of my woman handling session over, it's on to move on to the second part: the humiliation. For the humiliation I always give the beaten guys a good, hard spanking with my bare hand on their tush. After letting Jimmy lie on the floor for a few minutes, I reached down and grabbed him firmly by his hair and dragged him into my bedroom. I had already set up a chair for the occasion in front of a full-length mirror for another, you guessed it, few selfies. I sat down on the chair and yanked the now helpless jock across my knees. Because he was only wearing a training suit over his briefs, it was easy to pull both down, thus exposing his bare (and I have to admit very cute) buttocks. "As I said to you before the beating Jimmy, you've been a very naughty boy, so mommy has to give you a good spanking." I just love this part - where I, the dominate female, treats this strong, tough jock as if he were nothing but a small child. SPANK! I bring my open right hand down hard of his tush, which is quickly followed by several more. SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! "Please stop this Janet," he begs (guys always begin to beg at this point). "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I'll apologize to Joan. I promise." "Of course you will Jimmy. But you still need to be punished for what you did to her; and for calling me a bitch!" SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! I don't know what the average amount of spanks a guy has to endure from me before they completely break down and start to cry because I never actually counted. But I would guess that it's somewhere between fifteen and twenty. SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! But I could tell that by now Jimmy was getting near to his breaking point. SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! As with the beating, taking this big, strong jock over my knees and giving him a good spanking is also a turn-on for me. What can I say? I just love it! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! That did it. After sixteen spanks (this time I did count them) Jimmy broke down and began crying. "Oh you poor baby," I cooed. "Was mommy's firm hand too much for the big, strong, tough macho man?" (Oh how I love teasing them. I'm having an orgasm now just remembering it). "Please stop this Janet. Please, please stop. I'll do whatever you ask; but please stop spanking me." Once again an erotic thrill came over me. Not only had I beaten this strong, tough, macho football player into submission with my fists, but now I had broken him completely with a good, hard spanking. It's a feeling that only someone who understands the absolute joy of total female domination can appreciate; and I love it! I sat there with this macho jock - now reduced to nothing more than a pathetic crybaby - draped across my knees for a few minutes, enjoying the complete domination I had over him. Then I grabbed him firmly by his hair again and forced him to look into the full-length mirror in front of us. With my free hand I took my cell phone, flashed my prettiest smile and took several more selfies of me with the crying, humiliated jock draped across my knees. "These are for my private collection Jimmy," I assured him. "Of course if you misbehave again, these photos might just find their way onto my Facebook page,"(I swear I could feel him shudder when I said this). With the second part of my woman handling session complete, we now come to my favorite part. It's not that I didn't enjoy the first two, I most definitely did, but this is the one I really like the best - the pussy whipping - after all, what woman handling session could possibly be complete without a good pussy whipping? Still holding Jimmy firmly by the hair, I rose from the chair and dragged him over to my bed."Lie down on your back!" I demanded. Sometimes at this point a guy's ego starts to reassert itself and he tries to resist; but it's nothing that a few hard slaps back and forth across the face from my strong right hand can't handle. Fortunately for Jimmy he meekly obeyed my 'request' without my having to punish him any more. I placed him on my bed so that his head would be dangling over the corner. Then I removed my boxing shorts and panties and sat down on his chest, straddling his head so that my beautiful pussy was only a few inches from his face. I locked my fingers together around the back of his head and forced it up against my pussy and then began to slowly sway back and forth, grinding his face as I did. There are two purposes for this exercise. The first is to rub in (pun intended) to this pompous jock that he's being completely dominated by a woman; and that there's nothing he can do about it. And the second is simply to pleasure me; and boy do I love it! The feeling of being in absolute control over him, grinding this strong, macho jock's face into my pussy, that I can do whatever I want with him is, I believe, the ultimate goal of female domination. I don't know how long I meshed Jimmy's face in my pussy, but I do know that I enjoyed every second of it. After several orgasms I decided that he'd had enough. "Have you learned your lesson Jimmy?" I asked softly. "Yes," he said meekly, with tears flowing down his face. "And will you break up with your new cheerleader girlfriend, apologize to Joan and ask her to be your girlfriend again?" Jimmy gulped hard. "Yes." I reached down and gently patted his head. "That's a good boy. Because if you don't, we're going to have another woman handling session, and I'm sure you don't want that do you?" (The question was, of course, rhetorical). Satisfied that he meant what he said, I took a few more selfies, got up, wiped off my wet pussy (as well as Jimmy's wet face) and dressed. "You're free to leave now Jimmy. But I will be keeping tabs on you; and I expect you to keep your word...or else you-know-what." SMACK! I slammed my fist hard into my palm again."If you catch my drift." As I watched Jimmy get up and, with his head bowed in shame, slowly make his way to the door of my apartment, I couldn't help but feel a great sense of pride in what I'd done. That a girl like me had, for the umpteenth time, completely broken a strong, tough guy. And even though I have indeed done it many times before (and would, undoubtedly, do many times again), the erotic thrill I get from one of my woman handling sessions never seems to subside; and I hope it never will. "Good-bye Jimmy," I said as I unlocked the front door and let him out. "I hope you enjoyed this 'experience' as much as I did...and have a nice day (smirk)." Epilogue: About a week after Jimmy broke up with his cheerleader girlfriend and got back together with Joan (thanks to you-know-who), Joan decided that he wasn't really what she wanted after all and broke off their relationship. Oh well, such is life. A few days later I happened to bump into Jimmy on the university campus. "Well hello there Jimmy," I said and flashed him a pretty smile. For some reason he didn't respond in kind; I have absolutely no idea why (wink). "I hear that Joan broke up with you. Is that right?" "Yes," he replied, still with his head down; refusing to meet me eye-to-eye. "Well then, that means you're free, doesn't it? So, how about coming over to my apartment around four this afternoon?" "I...I don't think so Janet." Guys, they can be so stubborn sometimes. Fortunately I know how to deal with them. I reached out and grabbed Jimmy firmly by the shirt and pulled him towards me so that his face was only a few inches from mine. Then, in a calm but firm, no-nonsense tone of voice said,"perhaps you didn't hear me correctly Jimmy. So let me rephrase what I just said so there will be no further misunderstandings: you'll either be at my apartment by four this afternoon, or I'm going to give you another woman handling session; one that will make the last one seem like a game of patty cake. Understand?" Jimmy gulped hard. "Yes, Janet. I'll...I'll be there; at four o'clock." (I could feel him shaking now, poor thing). "Good. I'll see you then." I made a fist and playfully tapped his still somewhat swollen jaw, then added," and I wouldn't be late if I were you." At exactly four that afternoon my doorbell rang. "Why Jimmy, what a surprise (giggles). Come in." I led him straight into my bedroom and sat him down on the bed. Standing in front of him with my hands on my hips I smiled at him and said,"I've got good news for you Jimmy. Since you're free now, I've decided to make you my boyfriend. What do you say to that?" He didn't say anything but I could see he was shaking and tears were beginning to swell up in his eyes. I sat down on his lap and in a soft, gentle voice said,"what's the matter Jimmy? You don't want to be with a girl who can beat you up and giggle while she's doing? Who can take you across her knees and spank you when you're naughty? Who can pussy whip you whenever she wants?" (Did I mention before how much pleasure I get when I'm dominating and teasing a guy like I was now doing to Jimmy? Poor Jimmy, his tears were literally running down his cheeks now). "Why?" he asked after a lengthy pause. "You humiliated me Janet. Why would I want to be your boyfriend after what you did to me? And why would you want me anyway?" I took my long ponytail and gently began to wipe away his tears; and while I did so I explained: "There are several reasons why I decided to make you my boyfriend Jimmy. First, because I haven't had a steady boyfriend in quite some time now. (I did have a steady in my freshman year until I discovered that he was cheating on me. So I woman handled both him and his girlfriend for an entire day...and loved every minute of it. They left collage shortly afterwards and were never seen or heard from again. Good riddance I say). Second, because you were so much fun to woman handle; one of my favorite sessions ever. And third, because I think you're a real cutie pie. So Jimmy, the way I see it is you have two options here: either you agree to become my boyfriend, or I'm going to beat you up until you do (I can be quite persuasive when I want to be). So big boy, what's it going to be - a punch or a kiss?" (I bunched my right hand into a tight fist and cocked back my arm - just in case he made the wrong decision). After another lengthy pause he broke down and said,"a...a kiss, Janet. Please don't hit me again." "A wise choice Jimmy; I really would not have enjoyed beating you up again." Instead, I put my arms around him and gave this big, gorgeous hunk a long, passionate kiss - a gentle one though as his lips were still a bit swollen from the beating I gave him the previous week. I then had him strip and lie down on his back. I stripped too and jumped on top of him (I'm always on top). And as we began a long session of passionate lovemaking, I couldn't help thinking to myself,"God, how I love being a strong, dominant woman."