'Before and After'
By Smac 
The preparations for and the aftermath of a female boxing match

Corrected 11/06/2001

The breezy, self assured woman swept through the door. Her bright eyes 
quickly scanned the room. She picked at a few things, more from habit than by 
necessity.
But the room was immaculate. Everything was white, the two massage tables, 
the few chairs, curtains, towels, everything.
A paging device clipped to the waist band of her short, black leather 
skirt bleeped twice.
She stabbed the button and quickly left the room.
It was a long walk from the gym complex in the east wing to the reception area.
She nodded to her PA who motioned her towards the two girls in the foyer. 
"Hello Gwen, Alison."
They nodded and smiled.
"How are you both?"
"Fine thanks m'lady," grinned Owen, answering for the both of them.
This was her fourth visit to the exclusive country club, yet she still 
felt somewhat overwhelmed. Though she was by no means from an 
underprivileged family herself this huge mansion, with all it's attendant 
routine and formality still unnerved her.
Alison, from an even humbler background, was so out of her depth as to be all 
but speechless yet she'd been the one who'd introduced her workmate, the raven 
haired Gwen, to the whole scene.
Automatically they began to follow the blonde woman back along the tortuous 
route she'd just taken from the east wing.
There was silence between them as they trailed along the long, 
carpeted corridors.
Soon they were cloistered in the large, bright room.
"Are you both fit?" 
Both understood the significance "Yes m'lady."
"You've been here enough times now, both of you, I think it's time we 
dispensed with m'lady, you probably know that my Christian name is Anne, 
and you my address me as such."
They nodded.
"The boys are out on a shoot this afternoon so we've plenty of time, but you 
must get out of your things as you know because of the marks on your beautiful 
bodies, we can't have that can we," she said tongue in cheek.
She turned to leave them.
Whilst Alison looked out of the picture window over the parkland Gwen watched 
her cross the room.
She was a very striking woman, nearly six foot tall, blonde and very 
attractive, even to another of her own gender. Her blonde hair was short 
but superbly styled, the thin tight white t shirt she wore showed off the 
strong shoulders and, more impressive, her large, firm breasts as evidenced by 
the tight, deep cleavage. She had a deep, even tan and it was visible, even 
through the black fishnets she wore beneath the high hem of her heavy black 
leather mini skirt. She glided across to the door, her little black gym pumps 
making no noise the polished wooden floor.
Soon she returned with a box bearing the name of a prestigious London store. 
"Here we are, I thought that you might have been undressed by now."
The two girls looked at one another and coloured up.
'Blue and yellow pastels this time girls. Alison you'll have to be blue I 
think, because of your hair so it's yellow for you Gwen.'
She dipped in and made two neat piles, one each side of the box.
There were dressing gowns, panties, ribbons and lastly, still wrapped, 
the gloves.
She shot them a sharp glance and both began to undress.
Gwen took off her suit jacket and began to unbutton her thin, white blouse.
Susan tugged her dreadful orange sweater over her head. Her large, floppy 
breasts just stayed safe inside her substantial, sensible bra. She popped 
the catch on her long black skirt, unzipped and stepped out of it in one 
practised movement.
She was left in the bra, large cotton pants and black leather pixie boots.
"She could do with some advice on what underwear appeals to the male of 
the species," thought Anne cattily.
But she did look gawky and self conscious, especially when compared with Gwen, 
at eighteen, three years her junior, yet streets ahead of her where clothes
sense and poise were concerned.
She'd got down to the bare essentials herself, just bra and panties, 
she'd already kicked her high heels off, hers were panties, very little to them 
at the front, high cut an the hips and a very sheer, tight covering for her 
delicious bottom.
Her breasts were the same basic measurement as Allison's, 38C Anne knew that 
only too well, but they looked even bigger, both because they were firmer and 
because of the assistance she thought they received from the uplift bra, which 
like her own, did things for them which Alison's Marks and Sparks school 
girl line couldn't achieve.
She wished Alison out of her terrible underwear most so she gave her the blue 
gown and panties first.
"Here, put these an while I weigh Gwen." 
Both women paused before heading far the scales. 
Alison's eyes widened when she held up the panties. It was a tiny g-string.
Anne smiled.
"Bit of a change, we have to move with the times." 
She smiled hugely at Gwen.
Alison reached behind then pulled the bra off her saggy tits, she used both
hands to pull her bulky pants down below her knees, then worked her legs to
shrug them down to her feet. She kicked them off completely.
Her areolas were very large but her teats were almost non-existent. There 
were just two slight bumps where her milk tracts terminated.
Her pubic hair was very fair and very closely trimmed.
She looked better without the hideous bra and pants, much better.
Stepping into the g-string transformed her further. Her sex appeal took 
a quantum leap. As she drew the thin robe about her Anne patted the scales, 
"Bra off please Gwen, I'll need measure you both and Alison's shed 
her's already."
Smiling she popped the straining catch. The big, brown breasts burst into 
view under Anne's nose.
She'd been mistaken about the amount of work the bra had been doing. The 
breasts stayed more or less where they were, high and firm, the arolae very 
dark brown, the teats obviously aroused, were a good half an inch long and 
about as thick. 
Even Anne felt jealous.
"Hop on," she smiled.
"Exactly the same as last time," she observed, making a note on the 
adjacent desk.
"Now let's just run the tape over you."
"Hmmmm-----," she sighed appreciatively, "39-25-37, pick up your gown and 
string from the bed whilst I do Alison."
"Pop your gown off," she soothed when Alison got near.
"You've put on two pounds, still I expect you'll soon lose that and more 
this evening."
The tape read "39-26-37", she made more notes on her record cards.
When she turned to Gwen she was holding up her tiny yellow string deciding 
how best to get it over her flaring hips.
The area between her legs was shiny, clean-shaven, her fleshy, pink pussy 
lips were on display just like her big, proud breasts.
Her pubic hair had been short last time she'd seen her, trimmed short, but 
still evident, now here she was a fellow traveller. 
Anne arched her hips making her own bare cunt caress the leather of 
her skirt front.
At last Gwen pulled the thin yellow strings high up onto her gorgeous hips. 
A quick manoeuvre and the back string was settled between her round, 
white buttocks.
"Holy Moses, she's a knockout," thought Anne, grinning at her impromptu pun.
"We had a cracking fight here last month, why don't I get the video then you 
two can watch it for a while and I'll go and find out what's happening. Your 
marks will be gone by then as well."
"Yes m.. Anne," nodded Gwen.
She came back shortly, pushing a very expensive looking video package. Her 
short leather skirt rode very high at the back as she bent over the stack.
"Stocking tops," gasped Alison to herself, truly amazed. 
She set the tape running.
"I'll leave you to it."
Gwen and Alison sat together on one of the massage tables, swinging their long 
legs and waiting for the video to sort itself out.
After the obligatory squiggles, stretch marks and general squiffiness came 
Anne's familiar face.
She had on a white string bra, her black leather mini and nothing else by 
the look of it.
She introduced a fight that at times scared the already nervous girls.
But by the time Anne had announced the knock out from the ring they were 
both raring to go themselves.
"Great fight wasn't it Alison?"
'Hmmmm... I hope we do as well,' she lowered her eyes. They'd fought four 
times before and she'd won each time.
The taped fight had gone fourteen rounds and they were quite ready for Anne 
by the time she returned.
'They're back,' she tutted, "I'll give them half an hour to get cleaned up and 
a drink in their hands. You don't want the gloves on yet do you?' she 
said rhetorically, let's sort your hair out."
Moving round behind them, between the massage tables, she picked up the blue 
and yellow ribbons.
"How do you like it, I can't remember?"
"Mine on my neck please,' then, speaking for her embarrassed friend, 'Alison 
likes her's nice and high.'
She very carefully set their hair and even showed them her handiwork with a 
small mirror.
She walked round to face them again.
'Time for the formalities I'm afraid, before you're gloved up.'
Having crossed to the desk she gave them each a form and a biro.
Cranford House plc.


Sports Events Liability:


This is to confirm that I have agreed to participate in a boxing bout at 
Cranford House today the 19th. AUGUST 1998. Cranford House plc shall not be 
liable for any resulting personal loss or injury.
I agree that the following rules shall govern the boxing match:


1)	The bout shall end either as the result of a knockout or the retirement of 
one participant.

ii)	A knockout will be deemed to have occurred if one participant is unable to 
rise after a timed count of twenty seconds.

iii)	If a participant's retirement is deemed to be without sufficient grounds 
He/she shall forfeit His/Her purse.

iv)	Neither the referee nor any other Cranford House employee or director 
shall have the power to terminate the bout.

v)	The rounds shall be of three minutes duration with one minute's interval.

vi)	The boxing gloves used shall be regulation 8/6/4 ounces in weight.

vii)	One nominated Cranford House employee shall second each participant and no 
other shall attend corner.

viii)Gum shields will be available on request.

ix)	I accept the provisional purse of:
£2000 as the fair winner
£1000 as the fair loser of the contest.

Signed......        Date. ...........

When she'd checked the signatures at the foot of each form she eased them 
into one of the drawers and turned the key carefully.
A quick glance at her watch and she reached for the gloves.
"Gorgeous aren't they?'
Both girls nodded.
"They are very expensive, we have had them specially made, they're so much 
more feminine than the things you get from sports shops locally.'
"Are they four ounce gloves?" asked Alison, blushing instantly.
"Yes, they're quite standard except for the colours and the softness of 
the leather.'
She held the yellow pair up to both cheeks.
"Beautiful" she sighed, 
"Have you both got your rings off and earrings and any other rings out because 
you won't be able to do any fiddling once the gloves are on?'
Both nodded.
"You don't need bandages do you?'
Answering both questions with her own actions she caught up Gwen's right 
wrist and, easing the laces, pushed the cuff over her long fingers.
She asked her to flex her fingers before tightening the laces and carefully 
tying them.
She tutted and headed for the medical cabinet.
Returning with surgical adhesive tape and scissors she carefully and 
thoroughly bound the cuff before repeating the routine on the left hand.
"How do they feel?'
Owen rolled her fists together then bunched the pale lemon yellow gloves 
tightly.
"Great, really comfy."
"Try each hand on my tummy ok, then we'll both know how they feel." 
Gwen stood hesitantly.
"Go on, a left and a right," she urged, Owen shrugged.
Never one to pull her punches, she smacked the lovely gloves into the 
white cotton covering Anne's evidently tough midriff.
She grunted slightly but stood her ground smiling confidently.
"Still alright?"
'Yes,' Gwen stammered, 'they feel really nice.' 
'Right that's you sorted out, or is there anything else?'
'No, I'm ready,' she replied tight lipped. 
'Here,' she slackened the tightly belted silk gown. 
'Ok Alison, your turn.'
Alison clearly hoped that the lady of the house, her paymaster, wouldn't
require her to hit her as well.
She got the blonde to stand in front of her whilst she sat on one of the 
massage tables.
She ran her eyes over her then loosened her belt too.
'No marks,' she said, almost sternly, but she smiled inwardly at the dark, 
damp patch on the vee of Alison's light blue g-string.
Gwen wondered if she, her husband or one of the more influential male 
guests might have a fetish or phobia about the marks caused by tight clothing.
In deference to Alison's very fair, sensitive skin Anne cut off a couple of 
short lengths of the sticky tape to stick over her knuckles. Then on with the 
pale blue gloves and the same invitation for her to take a couple of test shots. 
Once given the opportunity she, after all her previous misgivings, took it in 
both hands, a left and right hooking the elegant woman in the belly.
'Whew,' she conceded, 'alright?'
'Mmm,' sighed Alison.
'You two are serious aren't you?'
She yanked the cotton vest from the waistband of the leather skirt, 
displaying her reddened belly and the swell of the underside of her large, firm 
breasts. After examining herself in the wall mirror she motioned the girls to 
the chairs.
'You'll be alright for ten minutes or so won't you, I'll go and tell the 
boys you're ready, my assistant will come to get you and I'll see you back here 
after the fight.'
At the word fight both girls' stomachs churned. The ten minutes waiting was 
hell.
But for the constant reminder of the confining, restricting little boxing 
gloves on their hands they'd tended to try to shove the reason for their being 
there to the back of their minds.
They sat and chatted nervously until a gentle knock at the door and 
their barefoot departure for the ring.
After escorting them to the hall where the ring was sit up and the fight was 
to take place the knocker on the door returned to the dressing room.
She picked up each girl's clothing in turn, folded it and put it carefully 
into the locker at the head of each massage table. Finally she stretched the 
creases from the sheets on the beds before leaving quickly, to watch the scrap 
herself.

Anne elbowed the handle down and nudged the dressing room door open with her 
left hip. 
Slumped against her other side was Gwen. Not the Gwen who had bounced out of the 
room over an hour previously but a Gwen who'd just been through sixteen rounds 
of very rough boxing. 
Anne steered the woozy girl with her right shoulder. 
She tottered across the room until she felt the massage table brush the back of 
her thighs. Anne let her go so that she could bend at the waist and sink down 
onto the hard bed. At last the brunette, naked but for the sodden gloves and g-
string flopped back gently but the blonde grasped her shoulders.
'I think you ought to try to sit up until your nose stops running.'
She was sobbing.
The once yellow gloves hung uselessly over the sides of the bed.
"What a punch up."
The phrase kept running through her mind.
She watched the crimson stream run down over Gwen's ruby lips, over her chin 
to splash onto her taut-swollen, brown tits.
"We'll fix your nose before you leave," she soothed.
Gwen nodded slowly, her tears mingling with the blood from her nose that 
had already soaked the yellow g-string and had even trickled down the insides of 
the sweaty, tanned thighs. Now it simply collected in the shallow creases in her 
taut bruised belly then ran off to ruin the carefully smoothed white sheet 
spread under her.
Anne was used to the state of the men and women brought back to this room 
from the ring.
But Gwen, she thought, was something special. Five times now she'd gone 
in, always against her college Alison, and five times she'd taken a beating.
"And she's such an attractive girl, that's what makes it harder to take," 
sighed Anne.
She glanced at her again, at least she looked serene enough now.
"Another thousand in the bank Gwen, pity about your nose, but it's 
happened before hasn't It?"
Gwen, opening one puffy eye said, "yes, last time."
"Don't worry help is on it's way, we'll have you sorted out in no time."
The door clicked.	
"Here's Alison."
She smiled down at Gwen.
To Anne's great satisfaction she returned the silent greeting.
Gwen took in the bloodstained towel round her friend's neck, her nose	
steadily dripping into her deep cleavage and she thawed further.
"It had been a fairly even fight after all," she decided.	
But Alison was consistently better than her and she felt that she would 
not go in against her again.
But she knew by now that there were an awful lot of other girls who 
boxed at the club.


















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