Sandi Stone plus thirty
By Diana the Valkyrie
Sandi Stone, thirty years on, part two - the Gut Punch


At the end of the week, both Bunny and I got paid. For both of us, this 
was the first time for a very long while that either of us had earned 
money. Bunny got $120, which shows you how poorly some people get paid 
(it was rather more before they deducted the various taxes). I came away 
with $340, which is partly because topless waitresses get more that 
hamburger boys, and partly because a lot of it was cash tips, including 
the 20% of the $100 that Sam charged for copping a feel. That evening, 
we celebrated by spending the night in the 24-hour cinema again; we 
could afford it. And then on Saturday, we went looking for an apartment. 

We were looking for a place that would be, above all, cheap, because we 
weren't making very much. But we wanted it to be warm and dry. We didn't 
care about how good the area was in, anything has to be better than 
sleeping under a bridge. We bought the local newspaper, and started 
phoning. 

It took most of the day, but eventually we found a place. It was in a 
very seedy part of the city, and it was a lot smaller than we'd hoped. 
There was a bedroom, shower/toilet and a cupboard that they called a 
kitchen. I had to part with a month's rent in advance, which took the 
whole of our money, pretty much. There was no  furniture, and in 
particular, no bed. But by the end of the day, we had a roof over our 
heads, somewhere warm and dry to sleep. And that evening, we lay down on 
the floorboards on a nice thick piece of cardboard, and went to sleep. 
That might sound uncomfortable to you, but to someone used to sleeping 
rough on the street, sleeping on floorboards in a warm apartment is a 
life of luxury. And Bunny was fine, because I was underneath, making him 
comfortable. 

On Sunday, we slept late. I woke up feeling warm, for the first time for 
a long while. Bunny was still asleep, so I kept still, not wanting to 
wake him. I kept my arms round him, and watched him breathing slowly; 
eventually he stirred and woke up. He looked round, then looked up at me 
and smiled. "Good morning, Bunnikins". He snuggled up close and kissed 
me. Several nice things happened for the next half hour, and then we got 
up. 

I went out, leaving Bunny at home (at home!) to do the housework. One of 
the nice things about having a home, was that at last I didn't have to 
worry about leaving him alone, he wouldn't get attacked the way he might 
have in the street. I got back with my backpack full of stones; when you 
can't spend money on dumbbells, stones make a good substitute. Bunny had 
been busy while I was away, doing the laundry. It turns out that all you 
need is ordinary soap and water, so he'd just taken it into the shower 
and scrubbed. He'd got all my grubby things clean, and then his stuff. 
Except he didn't have anything else to wear, so he was in one of my 
sweaters, looking sweet and very vulnerable. 

We sat on the floor, and ate the last of the doggie-bag he'd got from 
the hamburger place, and talked about the past. Up till now, we'd 
focussed entirely on the future, but I really wanted to know what had 
happened over the last 30 years. 

I had honestly thought he'd be better off marrying Diana Nightingale. 
She was more his size, being only just over five feet tall to Bunny's 
4'11", and very pretty, all the boys said so. And very intelligent, 
really much more Bunny's type than me. So I'd organised his engagement 
to her, and after an appropriate time, they got married. 

"Sandi, you remember where I spent the night of my engagement?" Of course 
I did, he spent it in my bed. I suppose I should have learned something 
from that, but at the time I didn't really think about it, it seemed 
like a reasonable place for Bunny to spend Saturday night, since he'd 
always done that. And Diana didn't seem to mind, or maybe, thinking 
back, maybe she hadn't known. 

"She wouldn't let me have sex with her properly until we were married" 
he said. Yes, I knew that, but he was getting his oats from me, so it 
didn't seem important at the time. Of course, after he was married, we 
stopped seeing each other. "What you didn't know, Sandi, was that she 
was also seeing someone else." Well, I suppose what's sauce for the 
goose is sauce for the gander. "And she didn't stop after we got wed." 
Oh. Not so good. "And then she started bringing him home." "Bunny! You 
should have put a stop to that at once." Bunny made a fist and showed it 
to me, it looked like it wouldn't make a dent in a pillow. "Sandi, I'm 
4'11", you don't know what that's like. I don't stand up to some six 
foot hulk, or if I do, I get flattened." "Well, you could have told me, 
I'd have handled him for you." "Yes, I knew you would, but by then, 
you'd gone." True enough, I was well into my career as a fist-fighter. 
"And I didn't want to take it out on Diana." "Very chivalrous of you, 
Bunny." "Not chivalrous, Sandi, I think even she could have wiped the 
floor with me, let alone what would happen when she told her 
boyfriend." 

"Who was he?" "That depends on when you're talking about. She had a 
succession on boyfriends, and I could hear them fucking from my 
bedroom." "Your bedroom?" "Yes, she wouldn't let me sleep with her." 
"Then why did she marry you in the first place?" "Because you told her 
to, and you might not remember this, but at Salt Mountain, when Sandi 
Stone said something, it happened." Yes, I did remember. Those were 
great times. "I got more and more depressed. Everything was going so 
badly, and I missed you especially." "I thought it was best for both of 
us, Bunny." We were sitting side by side on the floorboards, backs to 
the wall. He leaned towards me, and I put my arm round him, and pulled 
him into the side of my breast. "I thought you'd be better off with 
someone more your own size, and I was worried that I might damage you, 
accidentally maybe. Or ... " 

"Or what, Sandi?" "Bunny, you never knew how much I hated men, hated 
them for what my stepfather had done to my mother and to me. How much I 
loved hurting them in the ring, tearing their big arrogant bodies apart. 
I got a real sexual buzz out of smashing them up, and I was afraid I'd 
do the same to you, maybe if I lost my temper with you or something" 
"Sandi, I was a bit scared of you back then - everyone at school was." 
"And now?" "I'm not scared of you any more, Sandi, I know my feelings 
for you now, and so do you." I smiled. "But then, I remember watching 
you fight, and I remember thinking, what if she got angry with me, she 
could kill me with those fists." "Yes, Bunny. I thought that too. That's 
why I went away." "Oh, Sandi." "Oh, Bunny" 

After a few minutes, he continued. "I got so unhappy, I just didn't even 
feel like getting up in the morning. She spent any money I made, and 
more besides, on clothes and stuff to make herself attractive for other 
men. I mean, what's the point? Why flog myself for no reason?" I nodded. 
"And then one day, it was after a night where I couldn't sleep, they 
were making so much noise, I thought, I'm not taking this any more. So I 
started thinking what I could do about it. I didn't think having a big 
row would make any difference at all, and threats don't sound 
threatening coming from someone my size. So I just put together as much 
money as I could find, packed a bag, left her a note and walked out. 
That was after we'd been married for three years, five years after we 
left Salt Mountain." 

"You didn't come to me, why not?" "I would have, Sandi, really. If only 
to say hello. But I couldn't find you." "No. I guess you couldn't. In 
those days, I was a full time fighter, and I had lots of enemies. So I 
kept my address as discreet as possible." "Too discreet for me, Sandi. 
So I got a small apartment in another town, and tried to make a new 
life." "Why a new life?" "Because people laughed at me. Because I'm so 
small, I was used to that. Because I can't walk properly, I was used to 
that too. But Diana had them laughing at me because she was cuckolding 
me with every stud in town, and I wasn't man enough to do anything about 
it. Sandi, I was just so ashamed of myself, I couldn't face any of the 
people I knew." He started to cry, the tears rolling down his face as he 
relived the humiliation he'd felt. "Bunny, if I'd known ...." There was 
a long silence while I tried to comfort him. 

"So I was all alone, and I didn't want to go through that again, so I 
didn't go out except to bars to drink. After a few beers, the pain would 
get less, and I wouldn't feel quite so bad. So I'd have a few more 
beers. And pretty soon, I was an alcoholic, and I didn't even realise 
it. I just thought I was drinking to forget." "And did you forget?" "I 
don't remember" and we both giggled, and I kissed him again to make him 
remember that he didn't have to forget any more. 

"So for the next few years, I just sank into an abyss of alcohol. It was 
wonderful and terrible. Wonderful because I didn't have to think or 
remember; terrible because I was ill every day for most of the day. And 
then I got fired from my job, because I'd had so much sick time, so I 
got a job in a hamburger place." "Just like now, Bunny, nothing wrong 
with that." "Yes there was. There was a very big difference. First it 
was on the way down, whereas now I'm on my way up. Second I was still an 
alcoholic. And third I was all alone; now it's different, because I've 
got you to look after me." 

Pause for another snogging session. One of the big advantages of having 
your own home, is you can snog. "Then I got thrown out of my apartment." 
"Why?" "I didn't pay the rent. When you're an alky, the booze comes 
first, worry about the rent later. So I started sleeping rough, I though 
that would mean I could spend more on booze." "But?" "But that's when I 
got beaten up and robbed, and the bastards took my iron, so I couldn't 
walk properly any more, and so I could do the job, so they chucked me 
out. And that left me destitute, homeless and broke. There was only one 
plus." "And that was?" "I couldn't buy booze any more, so I kicked the 
habit, cold turkey. No choice. But it still wasn't easy. I had the 
shakes for weeks, and felt ill for months. And even now I want a drink, 
want it bad. I spoke to some of the others, they call it "the monkey", 
and they say you never get rid of the monkey on your back." "Bunny?" 
"Yes, Sandi?" I brought my legs up, one on either side of his body. 
"Bunny, if I ever smell alcohol on your breath" and I squeezed him, not 
too hard. "You don't scare me, Sandi Stone. I know you wouldn't hurt 
me." I grinned. "No. But I can make you bring it all up." "You 
wouldn't!" "For your own good, Bunny. Yes, I would." He shivered, and I 
hugged him, and wrapped my legs right round him. 

"So what about you, Sandi?" "Well, you know I became a fist-fighter." 
"Yes, I used to read about you. No man could stand against you. I used 
to wonder where they found the fools to fight you." "You'd be surprised 
how many men believe that no woman could beat them. No matter how many I 
smashed up, there were always more. Sure, they'd learn differently in 
the ring, but no-one ever learned from the others. I'd fight two at once 
and still beat them. I'd fight gloved against bare-knuckles. I'd fight 
five in succession, and even the fifth one would still climb into the 
ring, only slightly scared by what had happened to the other four." 

"It was a great life, Bunny. I'd train every day, usually using my 
latest toy to help. I'd make them punch me in the belly to help toughen 
up, only they couldn't punch hard enough. So I'd use them as a weight 
for training. Not as a punch-bag, though, that would have been the end 
of them if I had. And then, one night per week, usually on the Saturday, 
I'd have a match, and some limpdick would discover that he shouldn't 
have got into the ring with me. And the crowd loved me, and always 
shouted for me to trash the guy. So I did. It was great." 

"So why did it end?" "It was a boxing match. He should never have even 
thought about taking me on, he was a good boxer, but my punches were too 
much for any man. He ducked and weave, managed to land a few on me, and 
then I fired one off at him. When it landed, he just vibrated like a 
bell. The pain just paralysed him, and by the time he'd recovered, the 
next punch arrived. I just kept doing that, punch after punch until the 
bell went." 

"He should have thrown in the towel then, but he didn't. He got up for 
round two, so that I could pound him some more. A few times, he went 
down and could have stayed down. But he didn't, be got up to take more 
punishment. Eventually, in round three, I took  pity on him, and drilled 
him hard enough in the belly to collapse his defences, then a massive 
uppercut to put him out for the count." 

"You see, Bunny, I didn't do knockouts, I use to keep them going, 
hitting them hard enough to inflict massive amounts of pain, but a 
knockout would be the end of the fight, so I didn't. But with Joe, I let 
him off lightly. And then, after a few weeks, I went and visited him. He 
was scared stiff at first, but I used my feminine charms on him, then 
ripped off his trousers and almost raped him." 

"Then we became a regular item. He moved in with me, and whereas most of 
my toys only lasted a few weeks, I was a lot more careful with Joe, 
because, well, I guess I was in love. He was good in bed, he made me 
laugh a lot, he'd stood up to me much more than he should have in that 
fight, and, well, I was lonely." 

"Oh, Sandi. I wish I'd known. I was lonely too, I missed you so much. I 
missed slipping into your bedroom and snuggling up to you in bed." "But 
I thought you were  happily married to Diana Nightingale." Bunny looked 
down at  his feet. Then he looked at mine, and then he crawled down to 
them and started rubbing them with his hands. Wow, that felt good. "And 
then I got pregnant. I'd let my bodyfat get up to the point where I 
started menstruating again, and that meant I was fertile, and we must 
have kind of had an accident, because one morning I woke up, got up, and 
barfed. For several days, I barfed every morning, and I'd missed a 
period, but I hadn't thought anything of that, because I thought it was 
the bodyfat thing again, but then I went on feeling really bad each 
morning, until I thought, maybe I'm not ill, and I had a test, and it 
was positive." 

"At first, I wasn't sure how I felt about it. But then I came to rather 
like the idea. After a couple more weeks, I told Joe, and he was over 
the moon. So we decided to get married." "I never knew." "Well, 
Bunnikins, I don't think you're supposed to invite old flames to your 
wedding. I wore a lovely cream silk dress." I showed Bunny the wedding 
photo I'd kept. "Sandi, you look gorgeous there. I wish ..." We looked 
at each other - no need to put it into words, we both knew what he was 
wishing. "And then I was four months pregnant, and I lost the baby." 
"No!" "Yes. And I blame myself entirely, it happened right after a 
fight." "You carried on fighting when you were pregnant?" I nodded. 
"Dumb, huh? I thought, well, I'm only a little bit pregnant, I'll stop 
when it's really showing. The doctors all say you just lead a normal 
life at that point, you don't need to take any precautions." "Sandi. 
Most women don't get into a ring and fight two men at once." "Sure, I 
know that. But it was normal for me, so I went on doing it. Anyway, 
afterwards the doctor said that wasn't what caused the, the..." 
"Abortion" I nodded. "They said at that stage in the pregnancy, the 
abdominal muscles would protect the fetus as well as they protected me. 
They said it was just a malformed fetus, happens all the time, and the 
body just naturally recognises the problem and calls a halt to the 
process." 

Bunny didn't say anything, and I started crying. "It was me, I know it 
was, I killed my baby because I was too stupid to get out of the ring." 
"No, Sandi" "Yes, yes, yes" and I put my face in my hands and really 
wept, mourned for my lost child, the one I'd killed through arrogance 
and stupidity. Bunny put his arms round me and pulled me towards him, 
and held me as I howled my pain. "Sandi, Sandi. These things happen." 
"Oh, oh, oh" 

Eventually, I calmed down enough to just cry quietly while Bunny stroked 
my hair and told me he loved me. I sniffled. "I've never done that 
before, Bunny. At the time, I just gritted my teeth and put on a brave 
face." "You have to mourn, you have to grieve. Until you have, it isn't 
over." "I guess." "But then you had a baby." I smiled, remembering Joe 
Junior, and how he smiled whenever he saw me, how he was totally 
dependent on me, this tiny bundle of baby that was all mine. "Yes. Oh, 
Bunny, he was so cute, so sweet. I loved him to bits, I could barely put 
him down. I was so careful this time, I gave up the ring as soon as I 
knew I'd fallen pregnant. That made life tough, because Joe couldn't box 
any more, so all we had was his income doing odd jobs, security at 
events, that sort of thing." "Why couldn't he box any more?" "Bunny. I 
think you've forgotten what I used to do. After I'd totally destroyed 
him in the ring, after he'd been completely wiped out by a woman, he 
couldn't face opponents any more. He tried. He got a match, he got into 
the ring, and he looked in the other corner and instead of his opponent, 
he saw me there, grinning and flexing, and he was scared, really badly. 
And he remembered how every punch had felt like a sledge hammer, and he 
could even fight back, I'd hurt him so badly each time, and his body 
just refused to go through with it. He chickened out of the fight, and 
he never got a pro match again. Promoters don't like fighters who let 
them down. Bunny, I wrecked his boxing career." 

Bunny stroked my hair some more. "You've got lovely hair, Sandi." I 
kissed him again. "You wrecked a lot of boxers." I nodded. "Wrestlers 
too, and so-called tough-guys. They had it coming, love, everyone knew 
my reputation, but they still got into the ring with me. Anyway, we had 
a tough time then, not much money coming in, and babies are expensive. 
So, three months after he was born, I got back into the ring." "That's 
too soon, your body wasn't ready yet surely." "I didn't really have any 
choice. Money." He nodded. "My abs were still weak from the pregnancy, 
stretched and flabby. My arms had lost their full power. But my legs 
were still thick and hard, two steel towers ready to crush and limpdick 
man between them." 

"That first fight was pure hell. I'd never had such an even match 
before, and it wasn't that he was any good. I discovered that pregnancy 
hadn't just weakened my body, it had slowed me down. I was still nursing 
little Joe, so I had very full heavy breasts. And I'd lost the killer 
instinct. I found that I didn't want to cause pain and destruction any 
more, I only wanted to win the fight so I'd get the winners purse. That 
fight went eight rounds, and I didn't hold back at all. In fact, I 
barely made it to the end, I was so out of condition." "But you won?" 
"Yes, I won. He got in some good licks, but I still had a lot of 
punching power, and I wore him down. And Bunny, I can tell you, being 
punched in the gut is nothing compared to the pain of birthing. So when 
he did get a punch through, I had no problem taking the pain." 

"But everyone could see that it wasn't like the old days, the great 
Sandi Stone wasn't so tough any more. And suddenly they were queuing up, 
everyone wanted to be the first to take me down. And then Joe boxed 
really clever. He suggested I demand a much bigger purse, because the 
prospect of me being beaten was drawing huge crowds. So for the next 
fight, I demanded $10,000 and got it. And I won that one, which meant we 
had enough money for a few months. So during those months, I weaned 
little Joe so my breasts got pretty much back to normal, and I trained 
like a dervish, to get my body back into shape. Sit-ups till my body was 
agony, curls to build my biceps back up, and hours on the punch bag. Joe 
acted as my sparring partner, the rules we used was that I was only 
allowed to hit his gloves or his arms, but he could hit me anywhere. And 
that evened things up a lot, until I fired a huge punch at his hands in 
front of his face, smashed his glove into his head and knocked him out. 
After that, he wouldn't spar with me any more, and I had to use the 
punch ball and the bag." 

"Did it work?" "I'll say! Next time in the ring, I fought barehanded and 
bare breasted, and when I took off my dressing gown in the ring, I saw 
the fear in my opponents eyes when he saw my body. He'd expected a 
flabby nursing mother, and he got Sandi Stone, the opponent from hell." 

The bell rang, and Sandi sauntered confidently to the middle of the 
ring. Her opponent, nervous now, came out to touch hands. She looked up 
at the man who towered ten inches over his, and said "Big boy, I like 
big boys, there's more of you to hurt." The ref explained the rules, 
eight five minute rounds, submissions only count if they're accepted. 
Sandi grinned. "Don't bother trying to give up, big boy. This one goes 
eight rounds; forty minutes of your pain. Get ready to hurt, that's all 
you'll be doing for a long time to come." "Says you." She showed him her 
fist, not large, but hard and with the power of her arms behind it, very 
destructive. "Says this, sweetcakes." 

When the bell rang, the two fighters circled round, looking for an 
opening. One would feint, the other react, and then they'd do the same 
again. He threw a punch, which she sidestepped, then his other fist 
jabbed to her body, and she just let it go in. Then, while he was off 
balance from that punch, her own fists travelled the distance between 
them, one, two, and he reeled back, staggering slightly. She grinned as 
she saw how much more damage her fists did than his, and followed him. 
He reached the ropes and had to stop; Sandi didn't, and her fists again 
beat the one-two tattoo against his body, a right hook into his side, a 
left to his belly. He grunted in pain, and brought his fists up for a 
punch to her face, but she moved aside and his fist slid past her ear. 
She repeated the right hook,, feinted with her left, drawing his hands 
back to his face, and her right hand sank into his left side again. She 
stepped back, to watch him suffer as the pain from his side flooded 
through his body. He turned and faced her slightly sideways, so his left 
side was away from her fist. So she drove her knuckles into his right 
side, hard, with her weight behind the punch. He gasped and his knees 
gave way. 

He knelt on the canvas, on his hands and knees, head down, waiting for 
the count. But this wasn't boxing, there was no count. Being down on the 
canvas doesn't put a hold on the fight. Sandi walked round behind him, 
then vaulted over his backside to land heavily on the small of his back. 
His back curved, arched, and he tried to buck her off. But she was 
already moving upwards under her own power, and when he returned to the 
hands-and-knees position, she crashed down onto his back again. and this 
time, her weight smashing down on his back was followed by a double-
fisted blow between the shoulder blades, knocking him flat on the 
ground. 

Then the bell rang for the end of the round, and she stood up, and 
casually walked to her corner, treading on his body as she went. 

"This was more like it, Bunny. I knew I had him beat, it was just a 
matter of spinning out his total destruction for the audience." Most of 
the audience was male, hoping to see Sandi Stone finally get hers. But 
there were a few women there, accompanied by cowed-looking menfolk. 

When round two started, he moved cautiously to the center of the ring. 
Sandi offered her hands for the test-of-strength, but he was wise to 
that, and declined. He wanted to use his superior reach to keep her at a 
distance and try to wear her down with long punches, but Sandi just 
barrelled straight in and resumed her attack on his sides. Whichever way 
he stood, Sandi would attack the nearest side, and followed him as he 
backed away, trying to get her at a distance again. Finally, she got fed 
up with following him round the ring, and reached out to grip the 
nearest hand. She swung him round by that hand, bouncing him off the 
ropes, and as he came towards her, she stood in his way, arms apart, so 
that he collided with her hard body. And as he collided, she brought 
both hands in and down, each hand like an axe blade, biting deep into 
the sides of his waist. His body spasmed in agony, and he went down as 
if someone had cut the marionette's strings. dropped too, landing on his 
belly, and knocking out any air he still had. Her legs flew up, opened, 
then slammed shut, his head trapped between those massive thighs. "Now 
you suffer" she promised. The noises that he was making were muffled, 
and fearsome, like a man in the last extreme of pain. You could see his 
face reddening as the terrible pressure from her thighs interfered with 
his blood circulation. He struggled and shook, but his efforts to get 
free were to no avail, and we could see how he was weakening. 

Suddenly, Sandi released him and stood up. Without the support of her 
thighs, his head flopped to the ground with a thud. She took one of his 
wrists in both her hands and lifted, pulling him first into a seated 
position, then to his feet. She bent to put him on her shoulders, then 
straightened, lifting him high in the air. She had one hand on his neck, 
and the other gripping his crotch as she pressed him over her head. We 
expected a body slam, one that would leave his limbs uncontrollable, but 
Sandi had other ideas. She lowered him to her shoulders, face up, and 
started pulling down on his body in a devastating back-breaker. 

"One of my favourite holds. With a man in that position, he was facing 
the wrong way to be able to do anything, although generally I didn't use 
that hold until they were softened up. And by pulling down on his neck 
and crotch, I could bow his back until I had it at the point of 
breaking. Even better, I could walk round the ring showing his helpless 
condition to everyone." 

Sandi held him in that agonising position until the bell for the end of 
the round went, at which point she pressed the 250 pound man over her 
head, then simply walked back to her corner, leaving him to crash face-
up to the mat. He bounced a few inches, then just lay there waiting for 
the next dose of pain. His cornerman dragged him back and tried to 
revive him. 

As the bell went for round three, the cornerman signalled surrender, the 
ref looked a Sandi, Sandi shook her head, and she walked over to collect 
her victim. "Come on, big boy. Time to dance." He tried to climb out of 
the ring, but Sandi punched him hard in the kidney, and his body spasmed 
and shuddered and fell back inside. She took one of his wrists and 
dragged him to the center of the ring, stood on his back and started to 
lift his arms up in the shoulder-tearing surfboard that was one of her 
favourite man-crippling moves. She brought his arms up to the first 
point of resistance, where the joints dislocate, and then held him 
there. "They thought I was just playing with him, Bunny, but as I lifted 
his arms to destroy his shoulders, the pain of my birth-labour came 
flooding back. I remembered that long, deep pain so clearly that I 
almost felt it, and I thought, what if he has a wife? What if they have 
a baby? Who will provide for his family if I cripple him permanently? 
I'd never given any thought to that sort of thing before, but now I had 
a baby of my own. I didn't need to ruin his shoulders, I already had 
this fight won for sure. And if I did cripple him permanently, maybe his 
wife would have to be the family breadwinner, like I was, and maybe 
she'd hate to be parted from her Little Joe, like I did. So I stamped on 
his back a couple of times to make it look good, and I dropped his 
wrists without tearing his shoulder ligaments and destroying the 
joints." Then the bell went for the end of the round. 

"During round four I would normally have inflicted terrible damage on 
the limpdick. Instead, I just made him suffer appalling pain." "What's 
the difference?" Sandi put her thumbs under Bunny's armpits to explain. 
"If I press my thumbs in here, I can hurt you as much as I want to, for 
as long as I want to. But a few days later, you'll be right as rain. But 
if I bend your arms out and back so that the tendons tear off the joint, 
then it won't hurt very much, but you'd never be able to use your arms 
again." He wriggled helplessly, her thumbs not quite digging in, not 
quite hurting. "Can you feel it, Bunny? Can you feel how easy it would 
be for me to make you pass out in agony?" "Sandi, please?" So she moved 
her fingers over his body until he screamed and she had to muffle his 
screams with her big body, and after a while his screams turned to 
moans, and she moved her hands so she was stroking his hair. "Bunny 
Warren, you must be the most ticklish person I ever met." He sighed. 
"Please, Sandi, I really can't take any more." 

She used her fists to bruise, rather than break bones. Her belly punches 
hit nerve centres, such as the solar plexus, rather than aiming to 
disrupt internal organs. And she used holds to hurt, rather than tear. 
Afterwards she explained it to Joe. "He's a human being with a wife, 
probably, and kids. I couldn't just wreck his entire life." "Sandi? 
You've gone soft!" 

Sandi hugged Bunny close. "He was right. Before then, I saw men as 
victims, just something for me to play with, to turn into abject toys. 
But something happened, and I'd gone soft." "Not soft, Sandi. Less 
vicious. You were always gentle with me, but having a baby made you more 
gentle with others." She nodded. When I picked up my baby, he was so 
tiny and helpless, I felt I had to hold him so carefully. And when he 
suckled my breast, I'd have my arms round him to hold him safe." "Hold 
me now, Sandi." We fell asleep like that. 

Next day was Monday, and I escorted Bunny to his hamburger place, and 
went on to Sam's bar. When I got there, I found he'd got some sign-
painters in, and a photographer. "What's all this about, Sam?" "Oh, 
there you are. OK, Cecil, take her and do it." "Yar" "What?" "Follow me" 
I followed Cecil. 

"First stop, luvvie, clothes." I stopped. "Listen, limpdick. We stop 
here and you tell me what the hell's going on." "Didn't Sam tell you?" 
"Nope." "He's changing the bar, it isn't just going to be a topless bar 
any more. Didn't he tell you the new name?" "Nope" He giggled. "This 
wasn't my idea, luvvie. The new name for the bar is ... " he paused for 
dramatic effect. "Yes?" "The Gut Punch." "The WHAT?" "Gut Punch" "Sounds 
like a fruit drink." 

"We're going to get you a boxing outfit, silk shorts, gloves, boots, all 
that. We're giving the whole bar a boxing theme, and we'll be playing 
boxing videos on the screens. And anyone who's still standing after a 
gut punch from Sandi Stone gets $100." "Huh" I said. "You won't need 
much cash, but you better get in a good supply of mops and buckets." He 
giggled. 

We visited a sports shop. Boxers boots were no problem. But I took an 
embarrassingly large size in shorts. "And a sports bra" I said. "Naw, 
don't need it, you'll be topless." "Sweetcakes, if you think I'm gonna 
spend my whole shift braless, think again." He shrugged. "OK, you can 
argue that with Sam later." "Don't worry, I will. Meanwhile, we buy a 
few sports bras." 

And that was downright humiliating. Even their biggest didn't come 
close. "Never mind, luvvie, you can always wear an ordinary bra. Extra 
extra large size." The only thing that stopped me from popping his conk 
was the fact that he was right, dammit. 

It's amazing how easily you can re-theme a bar. Some ring ropes along 
the wall, boxing pictures on the wall, some fake plastic trophies and 
belts for decoration, and Sam himself dressed as a zebra. "OK, Sandi, 
you can stop laughing!" "But Sam, you should see yourself." "Yeah yeah 
yeah. Now you go get changed." 

I ducked into the storeroom, stripped, and put on the shorts, boots, 
and gloves. I put the silk dressing gown over the ensemble, and 
sauntered over to Sam. "Sam, if you so much as crack a grin ..." "Here, 
let me lace up the gloves." As he did that, memories of other times 
flooded back. "Here's the deal, Sandi. The guy pays $20. You take off 
the gown, flash your tits around, give him one in the gut. If he stays 
on his feet, he wins $100." "Your money's safe." "Second option, you 
wear training gloves, 20 ounce if he ponies up $50." "Hmmm. A few might 
stand up to that." "Right. We want them to have some chance." "OK, let 
me suggest a third option." "And that is?" "Bare knuckle, and if he 
stays up he gets $1000." "Brilliant, Sandi, OK we'll do it. $50 to win 
$1000 if you can stand up to a girl's fist." We grinned at each other. 

"Now, for the floor show, Sandi, Can you dance? Get them interested?" 
"Dance? Me? Forget it. Anyway, I have a better idea." "Which is?" "Get 
some freestanding gym kit, they can watch me work out. And that's in 
line with the bar theme." "Oh, yes!" 

That evening, I made my debut as The Blonde Gutter. Cute, hey? Sam's 
idea. It was very busy at first, there was a queue of guys wanting to be 
gutted. I was right about needing a heavy duty mop-and-bucket. We sorted 
them according to what gloves they wanted on me, to reduce the number of 
times I had to change gloves. And the first few hours of that evening 
was like punching a pillow again and again, the big trick being to get 
out of the way of his counterstroke, because I didn't want to have to 
keep washing vomit off me. 

Each time, we made the guy strip to the waist (otherwise some smart-arse 
will use Kevlar body-armour), feet against a line a metre from the bar, 
and hands on the bar. Then I'd take off my dressing gown, and while he 
was staring at my breasts, a fist would swing under and up, ripping into 
his exposed vulnerable gut. They'd lift a couple of inches into the air, 
lose their footing, and collapse straight down. After the first one, we 
put some cushions there to break their fall. "We don't want anyone 
getting hurt, do we Sandi?" grinned Sam. "So why do they all throw up?" 

And hurl they did. Mostly, after they sank to the ground, than goodness, 
but a few of them did the technicolor yawn on the way down, a real 
hazard. Only one guy managed to stay on his feet, and that was while I 
had on the big padded training gloves. "Want to try again with proper 
gloves, sweetcakes?" He grinned. "Blondie, I don't even want to give you 
s second shot if you put bedpillows over your fists. 

After I'd disposed of the first flush of victims, Sam told me to start 
the floor show. He'd bought me a pair of adjustable dumbbells, so I 
loaded  25 kilos on each and started doing curls. I did curls, 
preachers, biceps, triceps, lunges and plunges. And then, my piece de 
resistance, Sam handed me the skipping rope. 

Skipping is good training for a boxer. It improves mobility, the bobbing 
and weaving. And it's good for stamina. So - skipping. Oh, did I mention 
that I was topless? 

The sexual tension was electric, like a cloud of testosterone had just 
blown in. And I noticed that a few of the audience weren't entirely 
motionless. But the main effect, when I finally put the rope down, and 
Sam said "Anyone else want to be gut punched?" was a rush of volunteers 
for my fist in their belly. 

When I got home that night, I told Bunny all about it. "Wow, Sandi. 
They pay you to hit them?" I nodded. "But it must hurt?" "Yes, of course 
it hurts. A lot of them vomit, most of them fall to the floor and just 
lie there curled up and moaning..." "So why do they do it?" "Good 
question, Bunny. I've always wondered that myself. Why did men get into 
the ring with me, knowing that everyone else who'd done that had been 
carried out? And why, after seeing twenty men floored by my gut punch, 
why does the twenty-first step forward? Is it just plain stupidity?" 

"No, Sandi, it's the macho thing. Look at me, 4'11" and 90 pounds, and 
even I want to take on a challenge like that. I'm a man, and no woman 
can hurt me." "Bunny, you don't really think that, do you?" "No, of 
course not, but there's something deep inside me that does believe it. 
It's easy for me to over-ride that, it's obvious I couldn't stand up to 
a girl of twelve, but most men, they're bigger than you and they're 
heavier than you and even after you've knocked them down, that thing 
inside is still telling them, hey, she's just a girl." 

We lay on our cardboard, warm, dry and happy. I told Bunny that I was 
exercising with dumb-bells now, and my arms would start regaining some 
of their old power. And I told him about the skipping. "Topless?" I 
nodded. "Sweet Jesus, Sandi, that must be a sight!" I grinned. After 
three babies, they weren't exactly small, and after nearly fifty years 
of living, they weren't exactly firm. "I can't skip for long, but I'll 
be getting my stamina up." 

The week passed quickly, and on the next Friday we had our new wages. 
That evening, we added it up, and we found we had nearly $600. We talked 
about what to spend it on, there were so many things we needed. A 
kettle, to make evening coffee. Chairs to sit on. A coat for Bunny, to 
keep him warm. But we agreed that never mind what we needed, what we 
both wanted more than anything else, was a bed. A big, comfortable, 
double bed. 

First, we visited the charity shops, and found a very nice coat for 
Bunny. And a scarf. And then we went to a shoeshop, and bought a new 
pair of boots for him, children's size, but a pair that fit well, kept 
the wet out, and made his feet warm, dry and comfortable. Then, with 
those priorities out of the way, we visited a second-hand furniture shop 
and bought the biggest bed they had, and a new mattress to go with it. 
And then we bought new sheets, and blankets, and a lovely candlewick 
bedspread, and that exhausted our cash, apart from $20 that Bunny 
thought we should keep for emergencies. 

They delivered the bed and mattress to our new apartment, and Bunny and 
I dragged it up the stairs. Well, to be more precise, Bunny didn't get 
in my way too much as I dragged it upstairs. Eventually, we got 
everything set up, and I suggested that we go to bed. "But it's only 
eight pm" said Bunny. I chased him round the apartment, which didn't 
take long, since there was only the one room, which was mostly taken up 
by the bed. Plus Bunny can't run very fast. Although I suspect even if 
Bunny had been an Olympic sprinter, the chase wouldn't have taken long. 
I picked him up, still struggling, and threw him down on the bed, dived 
on top of him, and we wrestled. 

There's wrestling and there's wrestling. The style I was mostly used to, 
was the kind where you try to inflict pain and damage on your opponent 
until he can't fight any more, or he gives up, or both. The other kind 
is done between two people who love each other, and the objective isn't 
to hurt him. Actually, I'm not exactly sure what the objective is, but 
we were certainly having a lot of fun. In the first kind, you do a lot 
of crushing and squeezing; in the second kind you do a lot of cuddling 
and hugging. In the first kind, you might twist his arm until he screams 
for mercy, and there is no mercy; in the second kind you might tickle 
his armpits until he screams for mercy, and there's no mercy there 
either. In the first kind you might put him between your legs for a 
devastating scissors; in the second kind, he'll often wind up between 
your legs, but for a different reason. 

We spent a long time wrestling. One of the most important differences 
between the two styles, is in the winner. In the first kind, there's 
usually a winner and a loser. In the second kind, there's usually two 
winners. Bunny couldn't stop me doing anything I wanted to his poor weak 
body, and I took advantage of that. But I let him do things to me, too. 
After a while, we'd managed to lose all our clothes, and we were rolling 
around naked. Warm, dry and naked - it felt good, very good. And Bunny's 
fears about his sexual capability turned out to be overstated. Sure, he 
wasn't an 18-year-old studmuffin, not that he ever had been. But I was 
able to coax him into an erection, and the rest was simple, inevitable, 
and very satisfying for both of us. 

Afterwards, he lay in my arms saying "Oh, Sandi" again and again. I felt 
similar, I couldn't believe I had my little Bunnikins back, and he was 
as darling as ever, and he needed me so much, and I'd love and protect 
him for ever.