Jane and Petra

A one sided boxing match 



25th. Feb. 2002

She sat on the very edge of her chair watching her bare knees trembling 
slightly.

It was a Saturday dinner time.
She'd been building up to this day for the last two years.
Her husband, an airline pilot, had used his vast web of contacts all round 
Europe to make the arrangements for this afternoon.  It had taken him all of two 
years after his wife's first suggestion that she wanted to do this.
Jane was forty five years old now.  It wasn't until she was past forty that she 
discovered, partly with the help of Richard, her husband, that she was a 
submissive masochist.  It had started with bondage games in the bedroom.  Then 
she graduated to breast torture.  With her 38 HH chest, her breasts had always 
been her best asset.  Richard had been attracted to her because of them, they'd 
been her career in films and magazines, and to a certain extent, still were.  
Although now, rather than tit and bum magazines, she tended to appear in darker 
media, often showing off the extensive bruising which her massive tits usually 
carried these days.  
So it was those two years ago that she'd confided in Richard.
"Do you want a beating today?" he'd asked.
"Better not, my tits really are still too sore after last night."
"Besides," she taunted,  "I want a proper beating."
She brought her hands round from behind her back and dangled a very tatty pair 
of boxing gloves at him.
She'd wanted to get into a boxing ring with a professional woman boxer and fight 
to a finish.  She couldn't box, did no training so it was to be a one sided 
affair. 
"Ok," he agreed reluctantly, "but we must have a doctor with us when you do it."
Jane nodded, with a weak smile.
Richard had been exchanging e-mails with the German girl, Petra for the last 
couple of months.
Today was the day.
Jane sat in her shortest black leather miniskirt and a thin, white blouse barely 
hiding the massive white bra beneath.  She only possessed a few bras.  They 
needed to be specially made for her.  She needed to wear a bra during the day 
as, without one, her tits hung down level with her belly button.
   
Richard came into the living room.
She looked up at him, fear in her eyes.
"You don't have to do it, I can show them round town instead," he said 
soothingly.
"I want to," she stammered.
She stood up, smoothing her ridiculously short leather skirt over her bulky 
thighs.
"You'd better take your glasses off then and get used to being without them for 
an hour or two."
Her hand shook as she held out her glasses to him.
He glanced at the clock.
One fifteen.
She was due at three.
Richard had never actually met Petra, but they had plenty of photos from her 
website and, of course, her fight record.
She was 25, five foot ten, blonde and big, probably around 12 stone.
They knew her statistics were 36C 24 36 with wide shoulders and big arms.
Jane was 45, five foot five and 38HH 25 36, she was blonde and very big.
Petra had boxed professionally eight times, winning all her fights, seven by 
knockout.
She hadn't managed to get a fight for almost a year now, none of the other 
European women seemed to want to know, so Richard had managed to get her to come 
over from Hannover for the day at a bargain price.
He looked over at his wife again.
She still stood by the window wringing her trembling hands.
He shook his head.
He'd reluctantly offered to use the gloves on her, but she'd insisted on a 
another woman, a professional if possible.
He left her and went check on the hired boxing ring set up in the vast utility 
room located under the front of the detached house.
He shuddered as he took in all the boxing paraphernalia, towels, buckets and so 
on.  He went to one corner to tease out a crease in the vast white cotton sheet 
he and Jane had so carefully stretched over the ring floor the preceding 
afternoon.
 
He caught sight of one of the local cabs as it stopped at the bottom of the 
drive.
"I'll let them in," he called.
He would have to do the talking anyway neither German could speak English and 
Jane knew no German at all.

Petra and her trainer, Martin, seemed to be about the same height.
She was in a black leather jacket and jeans with, what looked like, a tank top 
beneath.
She shook hands formally with Richard, he was impressed and worried by the 
heartiness of the contact.
He led the two of them into the living room and Jane.
She was ashen faced and still visibly shaking.
Petra sized her up, looking from her shoulder length, blonde hair, over her 
enormous bosom, down to the black leather skirt and teetering black high heels.
She smiled at Martin appreciatively.
His eyes were glued to Jane's chest.

Richard left him to it and turned to Petra.
"What do you want to do, take a break or get straight on with it?" he asked in 
faultless German.
"Let's do it now," she replied, with a glance at Jane.
"Martin," she demanded.
He tore himself away.
"We need to go over the rules for the fight."
"Jane wants to wear a little silk g string I bought for her," began Richard.
"That's ok by me," replied Petra, "you said to bring a swimsuit so I've brought 
a little bikini."
"You already know that she wants you to knock her out don't you?"
"Ja," smiled Petra.
"Have you ever do this kind of thing before," asked Richard, for the record.
"Ja, a couple of times, but always with men, never a woman."
Richard nodded.
"What about the gloves?" asked Martin, "we brought a pair of eight ounce ones in 
case."
"Jane's bought some specially for today," said Richard.
"And rounds," asked Martin, "two or three minutes?"
"It's up to you really," smiled Richard.
"I'm used to two," grinned Petra.
"That's about it then," concluded Richard.
He turned to Jane.
She cast her eyes down as he went over to her.
"It's all as you wanted," he swallowed hard.
She took his hand, her's was damp and clammy.
He went to call the doctor, a lesbian friend of their's who lived a couple of 
doors away.
He led the small party round to the side of the house and the utility room door.

Petra clapped her hands in delight at the sight of the tiny boxing ring.
They'd put a table and chair at each end of the long, thin room.
Petra went for the far end and dumped her flight bag on the table.
Jane's huge holdall was already on the nearest table and she sheepishly began 
the all too familiar rummaging.
Eventually three parcels lay neatly on the table top.
She carefully opened the smallest of them and placed the little white silk g-
string on the seat of the chair.
Richard sidled over to where Petra was sorting her stuff out whilst Martin 
blatantly ogled Jane.
She kicked her black high heels under the chair.
She began on the buttons of her gossamer blouse.
She laid it carefully over the back of the chair.
Martin stood open mouthed as she reached round behind her to pop the catch of 
her capacious brassiere.
Her freed breasts swung down, her teats level with her navel.
She worked the little black leather skirt round and managed to undo the catch.
She wiggled the incredibly tight leather down her hips and thighs, before 
stepping out of it and laying it carefully over the back of the chair.

The panties under the leather were tiny.  But she thumbed them off and stepped 
out of them.
She picked up the g string from the chair and, turning to face Martin, wriggled 
into the tiny scrap of silk, making sure he got a good view of her clean shaven 
mound of Venus.
She seemed to have calmed down a bit now and even turned to a little mirror 
strategically placed on the table, checking out how the g string sat in her deep 
bum crack.
Satisfied she began to tidy round.
Martin answered a soft knock at the door and ushered in the doctor.
She was Susan, 36 and nicely put together.  She looked quite stunning in tight 
maroon leather jacket and trousers.
Martin looked over to see Richard watching his girlfriend settling herself into 
her tiny white string bikini.
There was a short white silk robe for each woman.
As soon as they were on, Richard headed purposefully for the boxing ring.
Petra marched over and clambered between the rough ropes.
Jane grabbed the two remaining packages and she too got awkwardly into the ring.
She sat on the stool, dropping one package between her feet, and began to undo 
the parcel.
She held the pale pink leather boxing gloves in her tremulous fingers.  On the 
cuff, in gold lettering was the legend 'six ounces'.
She kissed the knuckle part of each glove and handed them reverently to Richard.
He took them over the Martin who was now in the ring with his fighter.
Richard came back and picked up Jane's gloves.  They too were pale pink.
"You still sure about this?"
Jane bit her lip, nodded quickly and thrust out her trembling hands.
Her pelvis tightened as the little pink gloves went on.
"Have you?"
She nodded.
She'd always known she would come as the boxing gloves were being laced onto her 
fists.
Because Martin knew about the boxing game and would not be so concerned for 
Jane's safety as Richard might, it was decided that he should stay in the ring 
as referee whilst Richard would act as timekeeper for the duration of the fight.
The two women stood.
Richard went round the front of Jane and unknotted her belt.  He peeled the silk 
over her broad shoulders.  He smiled at the grey stain on the front of her new g 
string.
Then a thought occurred to him, "What about some protection under that g 
string?" he asked sheepishly.
"Don't worry," soothed Jane, "I'm sure she won't punch me between the legs."
He noticed she had a rather wistful look on her face. 
He hopped out of the ring to drape the gown over the chair and began to study 
his watch.
Martin threw Petra's gown in the general direction of her chair and took up 
station in one of the neutral corners.
He looked across to Jane.
She had her eyes closed, her boxing gloves crossed in front of her panties to 
hide the stain.  There were pearls of sweat on her upper lip and her breasts 
jiggled minutely as she trembled.
Suddenly Richard hit the bell.
Petra came for her across the white canvas of the boxing ring, gloves at hip 
level.
She uppercut Jane in the stomach, between her belly button and the top of her 
little g string. 
She hung in the air for a second before going to her knees, eyes glazed and 
mouth open.

It was a good half minute before she made it to her bare feet again.
"I should stick to her face and tits from now on," shouted Richard from 
ringside.


Petra nodded and responded with a straight right that made Richard's stomach 
knot up.
Before he knew it his wife was down on one knee, her nose dripping blood onto 
the pristine sheet, her huge left breast ground into her barrel thigh.
Richard was stunned, two punches and two knockdowns.
"Up, up," he yelled.
Jane rose shakily and stumbled back to her corner and Richard.
There was blood on her face now.
"You'd better tie my hair back," groaned Jane, "it will get in the way."
In the opposite corner Petra was receiving attention.
"She's bleeding already and I don't want my top messed up, it will have to come 
off."
Martin complied with a wide grin on his face.
After the unscheduled break Richard decided to give the round another minute to 
run before dinging the bell.
Time enough for Jane to be hit hard in the face another dozen times or so.
The bell rang and she returned to her corner, blood from her swelling nose 
running down over her thickened lips to run off the end of her chin and splash 
onto her, as yet, untouched breasts. 

 

  

She glanced down at the upper slopes of her chest and felt her pelvis spasm 
involuntarily.
Richard made to wipe the blood spots off her tits but she shook her head 
violently.
She cupped her little pink boxing gloves over her still trembling knees and 
allowed him to fan her briskly with the towel.
Rather reluctantly he stopped in time to ring the bell for round two.
Petra's large, firm breasts danced around her chest as she laid into Jane.
Jane seemed to be holding her boxing gloves up to her shoulders, giving Petra 
her face and breasts on a plate.
The first couple of tit punches went in and Jane's face paled.
You could tell she was almost tempted to cover up but stuck with the wide open 
stance.
Richard swallowed hard as he watched eight heavy punches land on Jane's face.
She was down on own knee again, the blood literally running down between her 
reddening tits.  
Martin started a count and Richard looked at his watch.
"Only fifteen seconds to go, thank goodness."
She rose at eight and Martin polished the pink leathers on the front of his 
shirt, then Petra sent her back to her corner with a couple of straight rights 
in her left breast.
"Where does it hurt?" asked Richard naively.
"My nose and my left tit mostly," panted Jane, "but I'm ok, honest."
He clearly wasn't convinced.
"That's three times she's knocked you down," he sighed, "how's this going to 
end?"
"I came each time she floored me," whispered Jane, and left it at that.
Richard shook his head slowly and headed for the bell.
The third followed much the same pattern and, although Jane didn't actually go 
to the canvas, she looked very wobbly on several occasions.
She shuffled back to Richard.  Blood was beginning to pool in her belly button 
now and, while she sat there being gently fanned, some dribbles ran over her 
waist band and trickled down the front panel of her little g string.
Her buttocks clenched again.
Susan came to the corner, obviously very excited.
All she said was, "Ok?" then she dodged back to her chair and round four.
She looked a mess as she stumbled out to meet Petra for the fourth time.
Petra kind of shrugged and uppercut her sharply in the midriff.
Jane stopped in her faltering tracks and, gasping for air, bent forwards from 
the waist.
Petra dropped her right pink boxing glove low and drove her fist up hard into 
the centre of Jane's face.
Bright red blood spurted down her heaving chest, she turned slowly and 
instinctively for her corner.
Susan was there by the time she grabbed blindly for the top rope.
Susan only had to glance at her face, "she's broken your nose Jane, it could get 
much worse if she catches you like that again."
Jane's shoulders fell.
Richard glanced at his watch, "a minute of the round left," he whispered.
"I'll see if I can make the end of this round," panted Jane, and she turned her 
sweaty back on them both.
Petra and Martin had been tete a tete during the break and she pulled the same 
uppercut to the abdomen, causing Jane to wilt again but, instead of punching her 
full on in the face, she used a cracking right cross to the hook of Jane's jaw.
She went down like the proverbial sack of spuds, in the prone position, blood 
from her grotesquely broken nose coursing over her right shoulder to form a 
growing pool on the once white sheet.
Petra stood over her for a few seconds before returning to her corner so that 
Martin could sponge the speckles of her opponent's blood which were beginning to 
dry on her warm body.
Susan and Richard knelt down by the prostrate Jane.
"Oh, well at least it's over," sighed Richard.
She began to stir.
"Yes, I'm sure she'll be ok," sighed the doctor.
They got her sitting on her stool.
She was covered from head to foot in blood, which still ran in two thick streams 
from her swollen nostrils.
Taking charge Susan said, "I think the best thing would be to get her round to 
my place for at least a day or two."
"I'll get the car out," agreed Richard.
Susan found a large towel outside the ring and draped it carefully round the 
still groggy boxer's neck and tried to cover as much of the front of her as she 
could.  She found her flip flops as well and eased her bloody toes into them.
Then she got Jane standing, just, and got her into the little white silk gown.
Petra came over, more or less dressed and held out the little pink boxing gloves 
that had caused Jane so much pain.
"Here," croaked Jane, "you take mine as a souvenir."
Susan translated and unlacing Jane's gloves, presented them to Petra.  They were 
like new, never having struck a blow.
Jane insisted that Susan get Petra's soggy, blood soaked gloves onto her hands 
before she would move an inch.
She grimaced somewhat as the gruesome gloves were laced up tight.
Richard reappeared with a large, brown envelope which again Jane insisted on 
giving to Petra in person.
"Maybe we can arrange something in about a year's time," she smiled weakly, 
"perhaps on my birthday."
Richard translated this time and Petra nodded fairly enthusiastically.
The party broke up.
Susan and Richard managed to get her to the car and into a back seat, where she 
sank back against the backrest and closed her puffy eyes.
Richard called to Martin, "back in a moment," and he dropped Jane and Susan back 
at her house.

Once inside Susan's large, comfortable house the doctor got Jane settled into a 
reclining chair over which she'd placed a large, white plastic sheet.
She folded the gown away from Jane's front and gently holding the back of her 
head, eased the towel away as well.
She looked Jane up and down.
"Those pants were pretty useless before the fight even started," she grinned.
Jane too managed a half smile and raised her hips slightly so that Susan could 
drag the soggy material down her blood streaked thighs.
Jane sighed with relief, she seemed to settle back again.
"The pants," she said, "I came even as the boxing gloves were put on.  Then I 
came every time she knocked my down and even when she finished me.  No wonder 
they were in a state."
Both women smiled.
"Are you still orgasming?"
"Um, occasionally," sighed Jane.
"Hang on I'll get a sample bottle."
She was gone for some minutes.
When she came back, gone were the maroon jacket and trousers, instead she wore a 
little black leather mini skirt and a cut off tee shirt, barely covering her 
bare breasts.
She knelt in front of the recliner and gently eased the neck of the bottle into 
Jane's bare sodden pussy.
As she eased the bottle in blood, still running wetly from Jane's nose, began to 
run into the folds of her pussy.
Susan tutted.
She gently palpitated Jane's broken nose.
"I think I'll try reducing it now, it's not too swollen, but if we leave it much 
longer it will be."
Jane nodded slowly.
This was going to hurt.
Susan put a CD on and turned the volume right up.
"In case of the neighbours," she said.
There was a great deal more blood to start with and Susan noticed Jane squirming 
a lot.  Finally she stemmed the blood flow with cotton wool plugs.
"They will hold your nose in place to some extent as well," she explained.
"My," she said, looking at the bottle in Jane's vagina, "you weren't joking were 
you."
She got two very small glasses from the cabinet.
She eased the sample bottle out, "are you having some?"
Jane nodded.
Susan put the two empty glasses back on a side table.
"Did she actually hit you between the legs?" she asked Jane.
"Well no," replied Jane, seeming rather disappointed.
"Here," soothed Susan, unpicking Jane's right boxing glove.
She too grimaced as she pulled on the soggy pink leather.
Between them they managed to get the blood wet boxing glove laced onto Susan's 
strong wrist.
The compliant Jane laid back in the recliner and splayed her spattered barrel 
thighs.
Susan began to rub the knuckle part of the pink boxing glove over Jane's smooth 
shaven mound of Venus.
Jane sighed, "go on."
Susan stood slowly.
She drew the pink boxing glove back behind her bare thigh and splatted it up 
into Jane's cunt.
Jane gasped and her knees involuntarily came together.
They soon opened up again though, even wider.
Susan continued to whack her in the pussy until her cuntlips were very swollen 
and she was generally very wet.
Jane sighed as Susan eased the sample bottle back into her.
They had another little glass each.
"Time for bed I think," smiled Susan.
She helped Jane upstairs and into her vast bed, each of them still wearing one 
bloody pink boxing glove.
She started on Jane's upper lip, licking off the drying blood.
Next it was her hugely swollen breasts that got the treatment.  On the left one, 
which had taken so much from Petra's right glove, she found a little cut near 
the nipple.
"That might need a stitch tomorrow."
Jane's brow creased.
"Don't worry, I'll give you a local."
"No thank you, that won't be necessary," grinned Jane.
They fell asleep in one another's arms.