The Blasphemous Clergyman
By Ajax



Disclaimer:  The author wishes to advise readers that this is a 
story containing female domination material and strong language 
and should not be read by anyone under eighteen years of age, 
or anyone who might find such material disturbing.



	The character Reverend John Marsden, Vicar of Tonton in 
the Diocese of Malbrough, is purely ficitious and any 
resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental, 
as are all other characters except Sonia Fernandes, who has 
seen and approved the story.
	If you enjoy this story, lists of other material by Ajax 
can be obtained by contacting Ms Fernandes on the Soniafight 
website.



No.1650     "THE BLASPHEMOUS CLERGYMAN"   	by  Ajax


	"He's the goddammed swearingest vicar I ever heard,"  
said Bella to her friend Sonia as they wrestled cheerfully on 
the large bed.  "Enjoys a fight, too.  I don't think he's too 
popular with the bishop."

	"Does he, now?" questioned Sonia, immediately taking an 
interest in the man.

	Bella, well pinned by the bigger Sonia, looked up at her 
with a twinkle in her eye.  "I'll bet he'd give you a good 
bout, Sonia."

	"Better than you, anyhow,"  Sonia replied smilingly, 
rolling off Bella and getting to her feet.

	"Well, we're catchweight," her friend remarked.  "But I 
reckon Johnnie's about your weight.  Could be an interesting 
fight."

	Another flash of interest crossed Sonia's face.  It had 
been a while since she had fought with a chap, and the idea of 
climbing into a ring with a vicar had a certain piquancy about 
it.  "You aren't serious, are you?" she asked.

	"Half," Bella returned.  "He asked me if I'd box him."

	"Did you?"

	Bella shook her head.  "Too big for me, and I worry about 
boxing.  It can get out of hand.  You know how it is.  You 
start by playing around and then somebody gets in a good punch 
and you're carried away."

	Sonia did know what Bella meant.  It had happened to her 
more than once, but it didn't usually last very long.  The 
chaps were generally pretty unfit for that kind of thing, and 
then they got guilty about hitting a woman.  Mostly they wanted 
to wrestle anyway.  The physical contact turned them on, but 
Sonia didn't often have to work very hard to turn them off 
again if she wanted to.  A good hammerlock or a scissors and 
they were soon writhing nicely.  Often they were surprised by 
the strength of their female adversary.  She had never really 
understood why, though.  It had always seemed pretty obvious to 
her that women had strong legs, and good endurance.  But there 
were still a lot of chaps who thought differently, and it gave 
her a lot of pleasure to agonize them to defeat.  Very 
occasionally she came across one who really did want to fight 
her, and that could get hard, but again, she could usually 
control them in the end.

	Boxing was a different matter though.  Not much physical 
contact except of the impactive kind, and it could get painful.  
Sonia supposed that if she was charging the poor mutts two 
hundred pounds an hour, she had to expect a bit of a hard time 
occasionally.  What was more, she had always wondered what it 
would be like to really box with a man.  She would be 
interested to find out if she could take what was dished out in 
anything more serious than a playabout.  She guessed that she 
would, but had a firm belief that it would not be easy.  She 
knew that she was strong enough, but didn't know if she was 
tough enough.

	The Reverend John Marsden, Vicar of All Saints, Tonton, 
was intrigued when he next contacted Bella.  He was coming up 
to town for a consultation with the 'bloody bishop', and did 
she have a slot for him on the afternoon of the 7th?  A quick 
look in her diary confirmed that she did, and he arranged to 
see at her the flat at two o'clock.  He was there at five 
minutes to, and being conducted into the sitting room where the 
teapot awaited his arrival.  They always started and ended with 
a cuppa.

	"Well, Johnnie?" she asked, over the tea.  "What's it to 
be?"

	"Can you manage a half-hour on the mat?" he asked back.  
Johnnie Marsden she liked.  He was always considerate.

	She smiled.  "Wouldn't be much good to you if I couldn't, 
would I?"

	"I don't know.  You tell a damned good story - and make a 
good cuppa," he quipped.

	"Not worth a hundred, though, is it?"

	He didn't answer that, and ten minutes later, with him 
stripped to his swimming trunks, and she in a bikini bottom, 
they were having a good workout on the mat in Bella's 'rumble 
room'.

	Johnnie Marsden was an oddity amongst vicars.  He had 
been looking forward to this all the way up on the train on his 
way to seeing the bishop at his palace in the City of 
Malbrough, whose cathedral was, next to Peterborough's, the 
best example of English Perpendicular that there was around.  
The meeting with the bishop was only on a routine parochial 
matter that had cropped up over the restoration of the tower at 
Tonton.  The visit to Bella was much the more important as far 
as the Rev Marsden was concerned, for one of the quirks of his 
character was a liking for fighting women - nothing immoral or 
anything like that, of course, at least not in Johnnie's eyes, 
though he was well aware that the bishop might not have agreed.  
It was a pleasure that he indulged in whenever both he and 
Bella were in town.  Maybe he should have been ashamed, as a 
pillar of the church, to be taking part in such activities, but 
somehow he had never felt his working out with Bella to be in 
the least reprehensible.  He enjoyed it thoroughly, and she 
earned her living - a perfect arrangement.

	But it was the remark that she had made when he had 
phoned her that had intrigued him.  She had asked him if he 
would care for a more serious fight, not against herself, but 
with a friend of hers.  As yet they hadn't discussed it, and he 
was more interested in trying to out-wrestle the girl before 
his time ran out.  He had managed it once, but not since.  She 
was a good wrestler and strong for her size, but with a twenty 
pound weight advantage he knew that he should be able to beat 
her.  He made no secret of the fact that he found mixed 
wrestling the greatest turn-on that he had ever found, at least 
not amongst those good friends that understood his peccadillo, 
and to battle it out with a woman as fit and well-figured as 
Bella was one of the things that made life worth living.

	Today she seemed extraordinarily inspired and vigorous, 
and try as he might he kept getting pinned, then later had to 
submit twice when she threatened to convert a schoolgirl pin 
into face-squat.  That was not one of the moves he much cared 
for - far too humiliating for his taste, but the schoolgirl pin 
was a different matter.  When it was warm in the flat as it was 
today, and they sweated a lot, the sight of Bella's luscious 
figure looming over him with her enigmatic smile and the 
moisture dripping from her bare breasts, was the nearest thing 
to heaven on earth.  Because his God was more broad-minded than 
He of many others, he allowed himself to enjoy this particular 
'pleasure of the flesh' to the full.  Johnnie did not believe 
that God would eschew beauty in any form, and this was 
certainly beauty of a high degree, beauty of form, of line and 
of strength, and ultimately of defeat when Bella gripped his 
chest with those powerful thighs, threatening to scissor him if 
he bucked.  Once trapped by those thighs a man was surely lost, 
and on many occasions he had gone down to the sweetness of 
defeat, agonized between them, and totally at her mercy.  
Sometimes she exercised it, sometimes not, and when not Johnnie 
was made to suffer for his pleasure, and more often than not 
went home with pained ribs or aching loins depending on quite 
how she had seized him.

	Today his frustration grew to greater than usual 
proportions as Bella countered almost every move he made, 
though he did win one finger-interlock test when his arm 
strength overcame hers, but it had not been easy.  Eventually 
he lay on the blue plastic mat happily worn out, and aching 
most places he could ache.  Bella, of course, still looked 
radiant and flushed by effort as she wound herself into her 
bathrobe and went to make the tea.

	Johnnie showered in the bathroom, dressed again, and 
joined her.  She was still in her robe, and expecting Geoffrey 
at four.  As Geoffrey liked her to start sweaty, she wouldn't 
shower.  Her clients paid Bella well, but with sometimes three 
or four such sessions a day she worked hard for her money.

	Not that she minded that - it kept her fit and supple - 
but it was time to add to Johnnie's misery.  "As I told you 
over the phone, I was talking to a good friend of mine the 
other day," she told him.  "She wants to try her boxing out 
against a man, and you're about her size.  Interested?"

	That was one of the things he liked about Bella;  she 
came straight to the point.  This suggestion took him by 
surprise.  They sometimes had a go with the gloves on, but he 
had always felt that she was rather too vulnerable for a 
leathering, and he could beat her easily enough at boxing.  He 
wouldn't mind obliging her friend if that was what she wanted.

	He must have looked very surprised, because she continued 
before he could answer.  "She wants a proper match, though, not 
a playabout."

	"Oh?"  His tone made it a question, but she could see 
that he was interested.  "How much of a proper bout?"

	"Just that.  Rounds and everything.  But with 'no foul' 
rules."

	"When?"

	"Whenever.  She's ready whenever you're in town.  She's a 
strong woman, though.  She'll probably beat you."

	He shook his head.  "She bloody well won't!  Women aren't 
built for boxing.  Not proper boxing at any rate."

	Bella secretly shared that view.  It wasn't something 
that she encouraged.  Playabouts were okay, but a serious bout 
could be a very different matter.  But she was fighting Sonia's 
corner today, and had to tell Johnnie that was not her friend's 
view.

	"If she wants a fight I'll give her one," he said, "but 
I'll knock her bloody head off!"

	Bella hadn't expected it to be quite this easy to get him 
into the ring with Sonia.  "Shall I set it up, then?"

	"Of course.  It's about time I had some success with you 
girls."  He paused for a moment.  "I've got to be up in 
Malbrough again next Thursday to see the bloody contractor, but 
I should be through by lunchtime.  I'm sure the bugger is 
trying to rip us off with this tower work on All Saints.  Where 
does she want to hold it?"

	"At her gym.  It's only a small ring, but there is a 
ring.  Meet me here and I'll take you down there."  Johnnie's 
forthright views on the character of contractors did not 
surprise Bella.  Her experience with them, such as it was, had 
been similar.

	Moments later, it was arranged, and Johnnie left to get 
his train back to Tonton.

	It was no accident that his parishioners saw the Rev John 
Marsden out jogging every morning till the following Thursday.  
Even on Sunday when he had had the eight o'clock communion.  It 
was probably one of the few occasions when such a service had 
been conducted by a priest with a tracksuit under his cassock 
and wearing muddy trainers.  He felt sure that God would have 
no objection.  He was less sure about the reaction of the 
Omnipotent to his venture to come on Thursday, but if both 
participants were willing that should make it okay.  Despite 
his rough tongue and odd interests, the Rev John was a highly 
moral man who stood by his principles and held no-one in 
contempt who strove to achieve things through their own 
efforts, but he was a little uneasy in his mind about the 
possibility of his giving this friend of Bella's a damned good 
thrashing.  He consoled himself with the thought that the 
suggestion had come from her, and if she wanted to box him, he 
saw no reason why he shouldn't oblige her.

	What was more when he met her on the afternoon of 
Thursday 15th, he found that he liked her.  They shook hands 
warmly, and there was a look of respect between them that he 
liked.

	Sonia was a big woman, 5'9" or a little taller, and 
weighed in at 11 stone 4 lbs.  Not much of it was wasted, 
either.  She was broad in the shoulder, and stood with a solid 
squareness that promised power and vigour, two of the physical 
qualities he most admired in a woman.  His 5'8©" left him a 
tiny bit shorter than Sonia, but she had six pounds over his 
10st 12lbs.  She might have been built like the proverbial 
brick shit-house, but she was still a woman with a woman's 
vulnerability, and he was not going to allow the fact that she 
was very attractive indeed to influence his boxing.

	And she was very attractive, with masses of dark brown 
hair, wide-set clear green eyes that were full of straightness 
and strong will, a nose that Venus would have died for and the 
wide and generous mouth that she had to have to complete the 
perfect composition of the features of her squarish-jawed face.  
The body was everything that 158 lbs needed to justify itself, 
strong not over-long legs, wide but not broad hips, a trim 
waist and the superb bosom given only to the vigorous and 
poised.  She moved with the grace of a panther rather than of a 
gazelle (such as the 5'5" Bella did), and looked formidable as 
a physical opponent in every respect.  The large hands and 
strong arms promised a great deal of power in her punching, and 
Johnnie began to wonder if he had been wise to accept the 
challenge quite so quickly.  He had thought that the ten rounds 
they had agreed to box would be within his ability - he should 
have stamina enough for that - but facing Sonia in six-ounce 
gloves might prove a small mistake.  He had thought that small 
gloves would give him the advantage, but having met and 
assessed the physique of her he was not now so sure.  However, 
he still had no doubt that he would beat her.  His naturally 
greater strength size for size should see him through, and he 
would probably be quicker of reflex than she was.

	Sonia, in her turn, eyed him up, and she began to worry a 
little.  Johnnie was a well set up fellow, reverend or not.  He 
was in his early thirties, somewhat older than she was.  At 
twenty-eight, Sonia knew that she should be just approaching 
the height of her physical powers.  He was probably just past 
his, but he still looked strong, and fitter than most of the 
chaps she entertained.  Nevertheless, she should win this, and 
when she did would enjoy dominating him.  If she could daze him 
out of things, she would make the final few rounds last an 
eternity for him.  It meant starting faster than she usually 
did, and that would surprise him.  He would expect her to be on 
the defensive to start with as most women would be against a 
man, so she should score well then, and aimed to drop him at 
least once before the end of the second round.  By then, he 
would have realized that he was into a fight.  Ten three-minute 
rounds, half an hour of fighting time, nearer three-quarters 
with the breaks should be a good test.  Bella would second her, 
Tricia him.  Sonia considered that she would have to pace 
herself well, a quick start in the first two, take it a little 
easier during the third and fourth, and then work him over hard 
during the fifth to eighth.  She would have broken his wind by 
then, and the last two rounds would be left to show him his 
proper place in life.  That these thoughts failed to take into 
account Napoleon's great tenet that it was a sad general who 
went into battle with a plan never bothered her.  The Reverend 
John was about to discover that it was she, not he, who would 
emerge the winner here.

	Johnnie Marsden did not have a plan.  He did not know 
anything about the woman's style or her skill, though he had to 
assume that that was high or she would not have wanted to test 
herself out in a 'proper' fight.

	From the start he realized that his bishop would hardly 
think that there was anything 'proper' about what he was about 
to do.  If anything, it would be considered the height of 
impropriety in the cloisters of the bishop's palace, for they 
came to the ring each clad in a pair of swimming trunks, his 
black, hers the bright emerald green that went particularly 
well with her sort of hair.

	Johnnie gulped at the sight of her.  She came to the ring 
in standard boxing boots, black ones with green socks, her 
trunks, red gloves, rubber bands to keep her long hair drawn 
back away from her face, and nothing else, the high firm 
breasts bare and unsupported.  He had not expected that.  Even 
Bella, whom he knew very well, tended to wear a robe except 
when they were actually wrestling.  To come to face a ten-round 
boxing bout like this wrong-footed him from the start.  He only 
had his trainers, trunks and black gloves, but as the man he 
had expected that.  To see Sonia just as proudly stripped as 
himself was a profound shock.

	Then there was no time to think about it further as the 
fight began.  He was to be seconded by Tricia, a young woman 
from the boxing club whose ring they were borrowing for the 
afternoon, and only the referee and timekeeper were also 
present, the ref one of the trainers from the club, and the TK 
one of the young girls who were flocking to boxing clubs now 
that the ABA had lifted its ban on their being there.

	As she had planned to do, Sonia started quickly, left-
leading crisply and outscoring Johnnie two to one.  
Capitalizing on the surprise she had gained, she came in close 
and dropped a pair of hard punches to his stomach.  He grunted 
as they went in and replied to the head, momentarily unguarded.  
He got in with two or three blows, but none of them troubled 
Sonia, and most of his efforts she either rode or dodged.  
Before the first round was half over he knew that if she was 
nothing else, Sonia was an accomplished boxer.  While that was 
no more than he had expected, it still came as something of an 
eye-opener.  He hadn't expected her to be quite this good, but 
still felt that he could deal with her.  She had started too 
quickly and was bound to run out of steam soon.  So he settled 
down to fight her more steadily, just defending against her 
quick attacks.

	Early on, he concentrated almost solely on her head, but 
knew that he was onto a loser there.  The weakeners were the 
body blows, and as they passed into the second half of the 
first round, he began to use his right to punish her 
exuberance, driving it into her ribs and belly with good 
strength.  To his surprise she did not seem to wilt at all and 
he found good strong muscle under his fists.  But it was over 
time that that sort of wearing punching counted, and he 
continued to land there, though taking some himself.

	As they went into the third minute Johnnie felt 
reasonably in control.  Sonia's attack was slowing as he had 
known it must, and he was scoring heavily to her body, giving 
her left side a thorough pounding with his heavy rights.  Then, 
a few seconds into the third minute, she upped the pace 
dramatically, catching him really off-guard, and pummelling him 
about the diaphragm as he had been doing into her left ribs.  
He replied instinctively with a powerful right stopping punch, 
the one under the heart, landing it well and taking the lower 
part of her left breast with it.  For a moment he was 
nonplussed by the sponginess under his glove where there should 
have been firm but pliable rib, but it was not until her gasp 
of pain came, sounding loud in his ear from their closeness, 
that he realized that he had caught her breast with his blow.  
He tried to back off, thinking that that was not quite fair, 
but Sonia returned to his head, and caught him painfully in the 
mouth as he did so, before driving a very good straight right 
into his mid-section.  Half-winded, he fell into a clinch with 
her, feeling the soft warmth and resilience of her bare breasts 
against his chest as they came together.

	The referee called the break, but neither responded so he 
stepped in and parted them himself.

	As she stepped away, Sonia hit out again, and took 
Johnnie to the side of the head with a blow that made his ears 
ring.  He cursed roundly and moved towards her.  She fell back 
wanting a further moment for the pain in her breast to ease.  
It had come a lot sharper than she had expected, for the punch 
had been intended to stop her in her tracks.  Had he been 
fighting another man it might have done, too, but the bulk of 
her breast had taken the venom out of it before it reached her 
ribcage, and leaning slightly forward as she had been at the 
time, her glandular tissue had taken a nasty bang.

	She could not blame him for that, and was pretty sure 
that the breast blow had been accidental, but she had had to 
yowk, and that must have told him that he had found an area 
that was vulnerable to a heavy punch, when she had intended 
that anything he landed in her breasts would evince no 
reaction.  She upbraided herself for her momentary weakness, 
and moved back into the fray.

	Johnnie stayed clear for a moment, wondering what she 
would think of his hitting her like that.  He felt guilty for 
hurting her with a punch where she had no muscle to protect 
herself, and her reaction to it only strengthened his feeling 
that women were not built for boxing.

	Sonia would have disputed that most strongly.  Okay, she 
was hurt and hurtable to the breasts, but that was something 
that all female fighters had to face whether sensitive or not. 
It was just unfortunate that she happened to be one of those 
who was unusually so, but she had to dismiss that and box.  Her 
skill was quite the equal of his, and she would have considered 
his reasoning an insult if she had known of it.  Meantime, she 
had a plan to follow, and that last exchange had upset it.  So 
she moved in to get back on track, and ignoring the pain now 
that the worst of the jolt had subsided, she launched into him 
powerfully.

	He defended well, but felt deprived of his ability to 
fully reply with her breasts in the way of the best place to 
land his 'stopper'.  She was carrying the fight to him and 
coming hard, and he found himself back-pedalling more smartly 
than he felt right.  He stopped, stood his ground, and 
exchanged punches with her.  Her blows thumping against his own 
ribs and stomach convinced him that he couldn't take it easy 
here.  He was going to have to go all out to gain his victory.

	And once he opened out, came square and began to use his 
left effectively too, Sonia found that she was taking a hard 
thrashing to the body as well.  The round ended before they 
really got into a slugfest and they went to their corners both 
feeling the need of a break.

	Sonia started the second where she had left off in the 
first, and Johnnie was slower to get into her than he should 
have been,  Suddenly, she hooked him hard to the liver, and 
followed up with a clubbing right to the head.  He was dazed 
and staggered sideways into the ropes.  Sonia turned and dug in 
a lower left to his belly, her red glove driving into him just 
above the top of his trunks.  Pain suffused him and he tried to 
clinch again, but Sonia, expecting it, had dodged backwards and 
she had him at her mercy for a moment.  Eyes lowered, he saw 
her bosom flex as the right came again, and this time took him 
to the jaw.  The next thing he knew he was smelling the canvas 
and his head was spinning.  It was not half-way into the second 
round and she had floored him.  Worse was that he had a head 
full of cotton-wool, and the count was mounting, already at 
four before he could gather his wits.

	Once he did, though, he acted calmly, waiting till eight 
before he rose, to give himself a better chance of coming 
stronger into the battle.  Sonia did not like the look of that.  
Most men, she felt, would have wanted to get straight up and 
thrash her.  This one had clearly boxed a bit before, and the 
knowledge tempered her next actions.  Instead of going hard for 
him again as she had originally intended, she stood off, 
waiting to see if he would throw caution to the winds and 
attack her.  To her deep chagrin he didn't.  If he'd had the 
urge to do so he controlled it, and adopted a classic side-on 
stance towards her, shuffling forward carefully.

	They met and boxed orthodox at the centre of ring, lefts 
licking out smartly, and being blocked by their guards, or 
dodged.  Sonia was especially adept at riding his head punches, 
and for the first time in the bout, Johnnie was struggling to 
land well.  But he settled to box her out of it, trusting to 
his greater strength to wear her down.

	Sonia, still following her plan, though now a modified 
version, felt able to risk opening up a little, and came round 
to face him more fully so that she could get her right working 
more effectively.  Twice she felt his body tense and jerk as 
she used it to stab him to the stomach and ribs.  Moments 
later, she regretted it, as his instinctive reply was to lead 
to the face, then belt in his stopping punch under the heart.  
Once again he felt the resilience of her breast under his 
glove, rebruising the bruise he had raised on her in the first 
round.  Sonia wanted to cry out again, but caught the howl in 
her throat and swallowed hard so as to give the impression that 
the punch hadn't hurt her.  The shock of it upset her rhythm, 
though, and her blows took him more weakly to the body than she 
had hoped.  She also became, for a few seconds, rather more 
flat-footed than she had been before, and that slowed her down 
enough to allow Johnnie to get in and land a combination of 
lefts and rights to the lower part of her belly, right on the 
top seam of her darkening green trunks.  The lefts were hooks 
the rights straight punches, and they forced her away aching 
badly where he had caught her momentarily untensed.

	She had to fight on through that, and his going low had 
exposed his head.  Leaning forward, she hit him hard to the jaw 
with her own left hook, and sent him sideways again.  Although 
she had not been able to get her full power into the punch it 
was enough to unsettle him long enough for her to pull herself 
together and bite back the stinging ache in her vitals.  Pained 
to breast and belly, Sonia was beginning to realize that she 
had taken on something here that she was going to find much 
harder to deal with than she had believed.  She was not foolish 
enough to disregard the male strength that he could bring to 
bear on her, but she felt she needed to drop him again before 
the second ended, just to impress him with her superiority.

	Unwisely, she threw herself into another full-blooded 
attack, her pain lending impetus to her determination to floor 
him, and Johnnie found himself at full stretch to defend 
against it.  Once again, he failed to draw his head away 
quickly enough, and he was caught to the jaw and dropped again, 
this time on the seat of his black trunks, but not so badly 
dazed as by the first felling.

	He began to worry slightly.  She was riding his best head 
punches, and had that ability to flick her head out of the way 
when he fired in a straight punch to the head.  He came to his 
knees smoothly enough and waited for the count to reach eight 
again before rising.  While the seconds ticked away he looked 
across at her, standing calmly in a neutral corner, and was 
struck again by her graceful poise.  True, she was beginning to 
sweat a little more than she had earlier, and there were red 
marks on her fair skin where his punches had found their mark 
against her, but that attack to the belly should have unsettled 
her more than it had.  Women weren't supposed to possess the 
sort of musculature down there that she must have had to hold 
his punches from penetrating her body painfully.  That coupled 
with her dodging and weaving and the rising of his blows made 
him feel that unless he did something soon she would be beating 
him, and he was not going to let that happen.

	Once up, he came straight back into the fight, and they 
were about to close as the second round came to its end.

	"You're not using your advantage,"  Tricia told him.  "Go 
for her breasts, and keep at her body.  You can hurt her out of 
it."

	While he suspected that Tricia might be right it seemed 
caddish to use against her an attack that she did not have 
against him, although he had been aware that his two blows that 
had landed to her left breast had both upset her concentration.  
He was not yet ready to fight 'dirty'.  He must try to beat her 
fair and square before he resorted to that kind of thing.  It 
did not sit too well with his concept of fair-mindedness.

	Sonia could have done with Bella giving her some massage 
to the stomach, but wouldn't risk letting his corner know that 
she had been badly affected by the belly attack, and the pain 
in her left breast was still troubling her, though it had 
dulled down a lot since the middle of the round.  However, 
unable to box hard without her breasts tossing around a lot, 
she was not getting a real chance of allowing it to settle, and 
as she got up for the third round, she determined that she was 
going to have the couple of easy rounds that she had promised 
herself, feeling that Johnnie might not want to get into 
anything really heavy just yet.  In the second she had begun to 
assert her superiority with the two knockdowns, and she hoped 
that that would have unnerved him enough to make him be more 
respectful of her.  Unless she missed her guess, he would not 
want to mix it too soon.

	She was right about that.  Johnnie wanted to build an 
advantage in this round so that he could wipe out the memory of 
the twice he had hit the canvas, and he began by keeping her at 
long range.  They circled warily, shooting out leads, and only 
occasionally coming close enough to drive for the body.  He was 
waiting for her to come square;  she was waiting for him to 
bore in in an effort to use his strength against her.  For half 
the round neither did either.

	The referee had never seen anything quite like this, a 
man and woman in a serious contest.  He would have thought it 
an inconceivable thing to have had any balance.  He had 
expected to see Sonia keeled over very quickly, and he, too, 
was having to learn that a woman like her was more than capable 
of making a fight of such a bout.  Moreover they were both 
boxing very well, but when in the second half of the round the 
man began to open up, he expected to see Sonia go down to 
defeat.

	Johnnie mounted his attack well, coming in behind his 
left leads to punish Sonia to the left ribs with low right 
hooks.  She tried to smack him to the head again, but the way 
he was moving enabled him to come inside her jabs, and land 
well.  Then he threw up his guard, and brought his left into 
play, driving a full-blooded straight pile-driver into her 
diaphragm.  It was his best and most telling punch so far 
landed, and doubled her over as it drove into her solar plexus.  
A right uppercut into her face straightened her again, and 
another left, this time a powerful hook took her to the liver, 
dropped her to her knees groaning.

	He stood away well satisfied as the ref counted over 
Sonia.

	When she rose he was straight back into her, left going 
for the head, right for the body, hoping to score again to the 
top of her trunks and this time break through her shield.  Her 
pained gasps told Johnnie that she was hurt, but the shield 
down there had held.  After several more heavy blows about the 
mid-section and ribs, Sonia was forced to fall back, and he 
felt that he was at last on his way.

	He kept up the attack, forcing her to cover up and 
defend.  As she drew away he followed, and as the final minute 
of the third ran its course, he at last managed to score well 
to the head, slamming a good right into her left eye, and 
catching her nose with his left.  That punch brought a smear of 
blood and caused a watering of the eyes, Sonia being lucky that 
it had occurred just as the round was ending and not a half 
minute sooner.

	The bell sent them back to their corners with Johnnie in 
the better condition, and Sonia more badly hurt than she had 
been at any time.

	Bella was horrified by the state of the brunette.  Her 
stomach was a mass of red weals and her eye was already 
swelling.  The nose-bleed was nothing, but she was aching badly 
about the ribs and was very tender round the solar plexus.  
"For God's sake keep him out," she exhorted her friend.  "If he 
gets in like that again, he'll be putting you away."  It was 
only too true.

	The third had done great things for Johnnie's confidence.  
He sat down a little out of breath, but sure that he was going 
to wear his opponent down.  She had had a good second round, 
but had not done him enough damage to prevent his beating her.  
If he continued to bore in hard like that he could put her down 
for the count and the ten rounds would not be needed.  He said 
as much to Tricia.

	"Be careful," she warned, "Sonia's as tough as they 
come."

	It may have been his extra confidence, or Sonia's need to 
get back into the fight that led to the slugfest of the fourth, 
but whatever it was, the fight exploded into a spectacle so 
fearsome the referee almost panicked.  It started easily 
enough, Sonia circling and looking for an opening, still 
feeling the effects of the third but not allowing them to get 
to her.  Johnnie was, from the start, trying to get in and 
lambast her again, and thirty seconds into the round they 
succeeded simultaneously.  Sonia came square, and Johnnie 
buried his left into her right ribs, striking hard that side 
for the first time.  She replied to his liver, and though they 
were both hurt neither was inclined to break away.  So they 
stood and belted each other toe to toe.

	As the pain grew in Johnnie's mid-section, his blows 
began to get wilder, and the brunette, her hair slapping 
heavily about her shoulders, was encouraged to stand close and 
thump him.  Suddenly she howled in agony as his left hook, one 
of his best punches, missed her ribs and took her brutally to 
the right breast, tying her up completely, and making the 
referee come in to give her a standing eight count.  Johnnie 
stood off, panting from exertion and needing the break almost 
as much as she did.

	But the eight seconds was nowhere near long enough for 
the pain in Sonia's breast to subside, though it did give her 
time to swallow down the nausea and ready herself to get back 
into things.  This, of course, was where her femininity told 
against her.  She had to carry herself into another exchange 
still suffering from the effects of the last one, and when 
women boxed it was always necessary for them to face that.  She 
knew that she could only blame herself for that.  She wanted to 
box, enjoyed a good scrap and had to put up with the less 
enjoyable parts of it.  Johnnie Marsden, Vicar of Tonton, was 
not going to beat her that way.  She was just disgusted with 
herself for letting everyone see that her sensitivity was 
costing her dear.  She had always told herself that she could 
hide the effects of breast-punching, and that reacting to the 
pain was no more than a state of mind.  It would not disable 
her, she had told herself.  But she had not had to face the 
strength of a man quite like this before, and in the end she 
had been grateful that the referee had given her the count.  
She couldn't keep reacting this way, and would have to fight on 
through it however bad it got for she was just~as determined 
now to beat her opponent as she had been at the start.  It was 
only a question of readjustment.

	This time, Johnnie did not feel so guilty about hitting 
her like that.  If she was going to fight him she had to expect 
it, and as soon as the count finished he was back in, throwing 
leather at a frantic rate.  He whaled her to head and body just 
as heavily as before, but she returned his punches with equal 
ferocity, and they stood there slugging each other with brutal 
force until one of her raking low lefts caught him and put him 
down again, the pain in his belly churning his stomach and 
forcing him to take nine before he could rise again.  He felt 
very battered as they closed, and tried to finish it with a 
combination to the head.

	Hurt and tiring, Sonia was not so adept at evading the 
punishment as she had been earlier, but she was still alert 
enough to block most of it, and although the eye got thumped 
again, and the nose-bleed re-started, she was still able to pin 
him to the ropes with a straight right to the solar plexus, and 
give him a tousing round the head that had him bleary-eyed and 
disoriented for a few seconds.  He covered up and drew away, 
and she found herself chasing him round the ring.

	As the round drew to a close, Johnnie was getting 
desperate.  He had landed some of his best punches against her 
and she was taking them and coming back even harder than she 
had before.  His body was aching as though he had been through 
a mill, and he was having difficult focussing his mind on the 
task in hand.  Nothing, though, seemed to stop her.

	He went to his corner feeling thoroughly wretched, and 
was not helped by Tricia's scathing attack upon his methods.  
"I told you to go for her boobs," she snapped at him.  "Get in 
there and cripple her!"  She slapped a cold sponge on his 
aching belly and another in his face.  "You're letting her take 
the fight."

	It came hard to do as Tricia suggested, but he resolved 
not to hold back in the fifth.  The fight was not half over and 
he was already feeling spent and breathless.  By contrast, 
Sonia seemed to be gaining in strength and power as the bout 
progressed.  Whilst he could believe that she was fitter than 
he was, he could not see that she was stronger, and so as they 
closed at the start of the round, he went first for the head to 
pull up her guard, and then ripped a searing right into her 
left breast, this time placing it deliberately.

	He hit her so hard with it that he felt the jolt right 
through his arm, and down into his lower back.  Sonia howled 
like a soul in torment, but neither went down nor fell back.  
Johnnie was disappointed.  He had hoped for some respite and 
got none - only an increased ferocity from his female opponent.

	Racked with the pain of the punch, Sonia wanted to throw 
up and wouldn't have minded dying to avoid any more, but she 
had told herself that she was going to fight through whatever 
came her way, and it was time to do just that.  Before the 
thought was completed a second breast punch, this time to the 
right breast had speared her, and it was time to pay him back 
for the pain he was causing her.  Her next considered punch 
went straight to his groin and he felt a surge of agony rip 
through him, melting his resolve, and dropping him gasping to 
his knees, his testicles screaming their protest at such a 
violation.

	He didn't think he was going to make it to his feet in 
time and it was a real struggle to get up.  He hadn't felt 
anything like that pain since he had slipped off his saddle and 
slammed his balls against the crossbar of his bike as a lad.  
And he was well aware that what Sonia could do once she could 
repeat at will.

	Sonia saw his colour change from florid to white with 
some satisfaction.  A few more like that and she would have him 
exactly where she wanted him.  At the same time she was going 
to have to take a lot more where she didn't fancy it either, 
and the fight was about to pass into the attritional phase.  
Once into that she knew that she would emerge the victrix.  
There weren't many men who could come close to a woman when it 
came to pain endurance.  This vicar, from his reaction to her 
punch, seemed unlikely to be one of them.

	Johnnie knew that he couldn't complain about her catching 
him where he could least take it.  He had, after all, caught 
her several times, and the last twice quite deliberately.  He 
just hoped that he could finish what he had started.

	He came into the next exchange bow-legged and ashen-
faced, but tried to go for the head again in an effort to take 
Sonia to the jaw and put her down for good.  But the effort was 
foredoomed to failure.  Sonia had read his intention even 
before he had formulated it.  It was his obvious ploy, as he 
must have known that his chances of standing up to much more of 
a bollocking were slim.  She tucked in her chin, and moved in 
to meet him smoothly, though the pantherine grace she had shown 
at the beginning of the fight had been knocked out of her by 
then.

	Failing to catch her to the head, he was more or less 
forced to go for her breasts again, but it wasn't easy to break 
through when she expected that kind of attack, and the only way 
he was going to succeed was to shift her guard.  He tried to 
bring it down, by going for the reddened belly again, but 
instead of doing what he expected, she tensed her muscles, 
elected to take the drubbing there and cuffed him round the 
head.  Although that exposed her chest to his gloves, he was 
too concerned to save his chin to take the best advantage of 
it, and by the time he realized that she was open to another 
breast attack it was too late to make the best use of the 
opportunity.  However, he did make some use of it, and drove in 
two good straight lefts that brought a yelp and groan, before 
she fended him off with a series of lighter blows about the 
body and he was forced to stand away.

	Now, he wasn't sure what to do.  With his balls aching 
and his head singing, his body sore and his wind going, he just 
hoped that the round would end and that he could get to his 
corner before she could do him any further damage.  He decided 
that there was nothing for it but to get in and hammer her as 
best he might before his lack of will communicated itself to 
her and she tore back in at him.

	Both having the same thought, they clashed again, and the 
referee glanced concernedly at the big clock on the wall that 
the timekeeper girl was allowing to run alongside her stop-
watch.  It indicated still more than a minute left of round 
five, and he was worried that if they continued to hammer each 
other as they were someone might get badly injured.  He began 
to understand why 'no foul' rules had been agreed, and he had 
had the greatest difficulty in refraining from ticking Sonia 
off for her low blow to Johnnie's groin.  Johnnie had not been 
slow to drive his punches into Sonia's breasts, either, and 
though not technically fouls, such blows must be having a bad 
effect on the woman.

	When she caught the chap to the balls again a few seconds 
later and a greenish tinge came over his face, the ref was 
quickly in to give him the eight-count he had given Sonia when 
she had been transfixed by the blow to her right breast.  It 
was useful as it used up some of the time that was still left 
on the clock, but was a pitiful response to the vicar's agony.  
Even with the discretionary count, Johnnie was hardly able to 
move for the crippling pain in his groin, and it seemed to have 
spread up into the pit of his stomach before the time ran out 
and he had to face Sonia again.

	Unlike his female opponent, who had always been aware of 
the need to be able to fight and think through pain of the 
ring, Johnnie had never had to suffer like this before.  He was 
quite incapable of fighting through a ripping agony that seemed 
to rob him of all thought, and the best he could manage in the 
last seconds of the fifth was to cover up completely and 
shuffle backwards in the hope of avoiding the worst of the 
punishment Sonia was setting out to deliver.

	But he made it through and limped saggingly to his corner 
on the bell.

	Sonia was probably more hurt than Johnnie was, but she 
was taking it better.  She returned to Bella looking hurt but 
with a small smile playing around the corners of her mouth.

	"Are you okay?"  Bella asked with some concern, and was 
rewarded with a nod.

	"He's on his way out."

	The referee thought so too.  He went across and asked 
Johnnie if he was prepared to continue.  The vicar, using some 
choice language, told him in so uncertain terms that he was not 
going to pull out of the fight, and especially not now.  He 
could never have held his head up again if he did.  He had to 
at least make an effort to match Sonia no matter what it cost 
him in terms of pain.  He intended to use his strength to beat 
her, and that was that.

	Tricia was still going on at him about getting into Sonia 
and crippling her out of things, but his heart told him that 
the reverse was the most likely outcome.  Nevertheless, he held 
to the view that he should be able to beat a woman in the ring, 
and determined to do so next round.  The ache in his groin had 
subsided by then, and he reckoned that if he could hit her hard 
enough quickly enough he could still take her out.

	Sonia came out for the sixth wanting her breasts beaten 
just about as badly as Johnnie did his groin, but knew that it 
had to be faced, and prepared to hold herself together for the 
onslaught that she knew must come now.  It was clear to anyone 
that if Johnnie was to defeat her it had to be now and it had 
to be soon.  So she was prepared for the storm to break as she 
went out for the sixth.

	And break it did, in a deluge of desperation-generated 
punches.  Sonia must have taken ten breast punches in as many 
seconds, and several others to secondary regions.  She reeled 
against the ropes in agony and hoping that the ref would give 
her another standing count, but he had seen the way things were 
going and wouldn't.  It seemed that he had taken the view that 
if they wanted a sexual fight he should let them get on with it 
now, and let the devil take the hindmost.

	There was no hope of Sonia fighting back while Johnnie's 
onslaught continued, but it could not last for ever, and she 
steeled herself to take the worst of it until she could break 
out from the ropes and get back into him.  His breath rasped in 
his throat as his muscles began to lactic up under the 
tremendous demands he was making of them to hammer the 
beautiful woman before him into perdition.

	Eventually, with Sonia in a daze of pain and weakness, he 
had to break away to draw fresh breath, and she had to fight 
out of the morass of agony she was enduring and bring him low.  
The knowledge that she had come through the worst of it still 
capable of action buoyed her up to start moving forward, and to 
try to take him out.  But to make things as difficult as he 
could for her, he was fighting from a slight crouch that 
stopped her punching through his defence and into his groin 
again, though she had no doubt that that was where she would 
land to bring him to defeat.  But for now she had to take him 
to the head, and he was guarding that well.

	The result was a quieter spell with Johnnie finding time 
to regain his wind, and once he felt better, he stormed at her 
again.  This, though, proved to be a mistake.  There was no way 
that Sonia was going to let him belabour her again as he had 
during the first spell, and she took the courageous step of 
ignoring the vicious left hook he aimed at her right breast, 
and taking that in order to deliver the crunching right to his 
balls that she hoped would see her back in control.  The punch 
sent him down to curl into the foetal position with a curse, 
and to have to struggle again to rise in time to face her once 
more.

	He was pretty well all in by now, and Sonia, thrusting 
her throbbing pain to the back of her mind, came in to slam him 
down again with a head blow, then a third time with a searing 
right to his spleen.  As that punch drove in he did not know 
where he hurt most, to the body or the balls, and he did not 
want to get up again.  He had to, though.  He could not let her 
smash him out of it before he had had a final go at knocking 
her out.

	So thinking, he lumbered in, and slung a round-arm right 
towards her head.  Reacting more quickly than he would have 
believed possible considering her condition, she flung up her 
left arm and swatted the blow away, zinging a straight right 
into his solar plexus as she did so.  For the fourth time that 
round his knees hit the canvas, and he sank onto his haunches 
gasping for breath and suffused with torment.  Blast the 
goddammed bitch!  She was going to finish him yet, and when he 
rose only to suffer another thumping punch to his wedding 
tackle, his sand seemed suddenly to run out, and although he 
was able to rise, it was with difficulty.

	Sonia joyed in the moment.  At last she had managed to 
break him.  He had put up a much better fight than she had 
expected, but he was to be putty in her hands now, and nothing 
more than a human punchbag.  She wasn't ready to finish him, 
for it was time that he had his lesson in what a woman under 
stress could do.

	And she gave him one that he would never forget.  The 
rest of the sixth was a bad dream to him as he was strafed up 
and down and sideways by her probing punches.  She lit up his 
liver and his spleen, half-split his diaphragm and paled his 
ribs so heavily that he went down again, and had to be helped 
to his corner by Tricia.  "Next time," she said with feeling, 
and quite unable to do anything to assist him further, "you'll 
do what you're told!"

	It was no consolation.  He had done what he was able to 
do against her, breasts and all, and she had taken everything, 
only to mete out more agony to his suffering form than he would 
have believed she could.  The light gloves had pounded him more 
effectively than his had her, and Nemesis was around the 
corner.

	The ref didn't bother to ask either if they were going to 
retire now.  It was obvious to him that they wouldn't, but 
while she pounded Johnnie's body and he was trying to score off 
her breasts again, he became less worried about serious injury.  
There would be plenty of painful battery in the seventh, 
but~neither now had strength enough to addle each other's 
pates.  If they wanted to beat each other's body to a pulp that 
was up to them.  All he needed to do now was count, for he felt 
sure that one or the other would not survive the seventh, and 
they would be going home before three o'clock.

	The man's experience of the ring was long, and his 
judgement correct.  The fight did end in the seventh, but not 
before the third minute.  To her surprise Bella had found 
herself asking Sonia to put Johnnie out of his misery quickly, 
but her friend quelled her with a look.  She had set out to 
show this blasphemous clergyman the error of his ways, and she 
meant to make sure that she did.

	Not that she found it easy, nor pleasant, for he still 
had fight enough left to tag her with two or three good blows 
to her breasts, but she left his testicles alone now.  She had 
used them to break him down, but now she wanted to box him out 
of it in a more orthodox fashion.  She tried not to let the 
pain he caused her override her determination to see him off, 
and after they had been involved in two short exchanges, she 
elected to fight at longer range, her punches, now the surer 
and more accurate, strafing him to head and body until he was 
driven to cover completely again.  Then she pursued him, and 
weakened him further with jabs and crosses to the head, and 
hooks and straight punches to the body.  By the mid-point of 
the round his spleen ached and his liver was rebelling from its 
battering.  He felt weak and sick, and the greenish tinge 
returned to his features as Sonia destroyed him piecemeal.  He 
went down to rest, rose again, was knocked off his feet by a 
right uppercut to the jaw, just got up at nine, and was finally 
stretched out by a combination to solar plexus and head that a 
professional would not have been ashamed to throw.

	The Reverend John Marsden, Vicar of Tonton, in the 
Diocese of Malbrough, ended the fight in the centre of the ring 
on all fours, saliva dripping from his battered and bloody 
mouth, gagging for breath, aching at the testicles, and 
completely broken by the proud and lovely woman he had come 
here to beat, who stood over him, hurt but smiling, her belly a 
mass of reddened bruises, her breasts twin sites of throbbing 
torment darkened and marred by the marking put there by a 
vicar's gloves, and one eye all but closed.  Sweat dripped off 
her adrenalin-erected nipples, and she looked, for all the 
world, like some avenging goddess of mythology standing over a 
mere mortal who had dared to challenge her superiority, and had 
suffered for his impudence.  Not unto death, it was true, but 
unto complete collapse, each punch of that nightmarish seventh 
round robbing him of his belief in himself, and enhancing 
Sonia's belief in the superiority of her sex.  Some she might 
have needed to place a foot upon to complete their humiliation;  
many a man would have thrilled to have her standing triumphant 
on his neck.  But the Vicar of All Saints had met his 
realization of weakness before a determined woman in those 
final rounds when she had withstood the worst that he could do 
to her and had by her strength of body  and strong will 
succeeded in coming through what could have been an immolation, 
to carry her aching body to a limit that he could not match.  
He was downed, finished, a broken wreck in his humiliation and 
his agony.  Here, there was no 'sweetness of defeat', just a 
cloying hopelessness, a broken-bodied pathos that all there had 
witnessed.  A pity, she thought, that the fight had not been 
captured for posterity on tape or film, but no clergyman, 
blasphemous or otherwise, could have risked that.  Yet even in 
her exaltation of victory, there was a small voice of doubt 
within her, for she had failed to hide the anguish those early 
breast punches had caused her.  That, she told herself, must 
not happen again.  It must have been the power with which the 
presently grovelling vicar had hit her.  She needed to 
acclimatize herself to taking the heavy punching of these men 
if she was to meet and defeat more of them, and having had this 
taste of such satisfaction she knew that she would soon be 
longing for it again.

	She stood there watching him try to get to his feet after 
he was counted out, and once again was thrilled by what her 
strength and power had done.  The pain she felt had receded in 
her elation, and as Johnnie picked himself up off the canvas 
and went painfully and sadly to his corner, she felt more of a 
woman than she could ever remember having felt before, and she 
had been in many a tough fight against members of her own sex.

	And then the flow of adrenalin stopped, and the pain hit 
her like bludgeon.  She began to tremble with reaction and 
suddenly felt as though she had been run over by a truck.  
Coming down off such a high was a cruel business, but only 
physically.  The pain, in time, would pass, but her knowledge 
of her victory would never leave her.  She would take the 
memory of that with her to the end of her life.