Knockout.
By Smac.
A pub landlady tries boxing again after a lay off.

Corrected 24/06/2001

The public bar in the Red Lion was popping. Trade bad been fairly brisk all 
afternoon but, as Friday evening approached, things had gone from brisk to 
booming. It was the day of the annual womens' knockout boxing competition. 
The competition had begun as a one off event to raise money for the local sports 
centre, but the response had been so overwhelming and the spectacle such a 
success that for a few years now it had been held at the end of fair week, that 
is the third week in September.
The special interest in the Red Lion was that, after more years than she cared 
to remember out of the boxing ring, the landlady, Pearl, was to don the gloves 
again and take her place amongst the eight women who were to box in the knockout 
competition. It had been the birth of her son Ian, now eleven, that had halted 
her boxing activities in her early twenties. Now, at thirty four, she was more 
than ready to get back into the boxing ring. She looked a little different now 
than she did those dozen or so years ago. Childbirth had broadened her beam 
somewhat, matching her innate broad shoulders. Her bust size was much bigger. 
Her hair once long and dark brown was now short, tightly permed and, of course 
blonde. She knew a couple of the other women who were to box, and two of the 
lezzy ones even came into her pub occasionally, usually to play darts as they 
had a darts team of their own. With one of the others, a part time barmaid in 
the town, she was on fairly friendly terms. She was the Su who had caused a 
sensation several years ago in the fair itself when she took on the awesome 
Barbara in the boxing booth and ended up a stretcher case. She had taken a
different road, physically and had trimmed down to a really quite appealing 
figure of a woman, for thirty two anyway. She, like all the other eight women 
had that gameness about them. This, like all the other knockout competitions, 
was sure to be a corker.
Pearl made a brief appearance behind the bar and pandemonium ensued.
Pearl became aware of a stranger in the pub, indeed one who was most definitely 
trying to catch her eye. She whispered to Dave and they were both on their 
guard. 
After a couple of large ones he asked her straight out, "can I have a word?"
She glanced at Dave and said, "I should think so."
They went round the corner of the bar, her on the inside.
"Er.... I've been commissioned by the Womens' Boxing Board," he flashed some 
credentials in her direction, "to do a photo story on this competition, I won't 
expect you to give your time for free."
He knew he had her in the bag.
"Just a minute."	
She told Dave what he'd said.
"Yeah, that seems alright to me," she said, returning to the stranger, "what's 
the next step?"
"You've got a room where you train and so on I expect?"
"Oh, yes," smiled Pearl, thinking of the cramped, smelly box room.
If we can take some photos in there, I'll pop round tonight, tomorrow and 
Sunday, after you've boxed. It won't take me more than fifteen or twenty 
minutes for each session, especially if I can leave my gear set up."
"Sounds alright, how much are we talking about?"
"I'm authorised to pay one thousand by cheque if you're prepared to co-operate 
and I can pay further sums, in cash, if the material is particularly good."   
Pearl pursed her lips and nodded enthusiastically. 
But at the same time she wondered exactly what was meant by particularly good 
material.
"I'll come back here with you after this evening's fights then alright?"
"Fine," grinned Pearl this was a bonus and no mistake.
"We can get to know each other while I get set up, then a few minutes work and 
you can unwind for the night."
He went back to his seat and Pearl spent a quarter of an hour or so on the right 
side of the bar. 
Everyone, especially the women in the pub, seemed to want to wish her luck for 
the evening and, hopefully, for the rest of the weekend. Her already pink 
cheeks deepened as she accepted their felicitations. She threw her leather 
coat over her thin, tight white sweater and short black skirt, pecked her 
husband on the cheek and called out to the bar in general, "see you later."
And she would.
By eight o'clock the whole town seemed to be in the sports centre.
All eight women had turned up. But there were several local women waiting on 
the end of the phone line in case there were any last minute difficulties, so 
the four fights would have gone ahead in any case. They'd signed up for the 
evenings boxing event and had been issued with gum shields, white cotton tangas 
and white ribbons if their hair was deemed sufficiently long. These were a
fresh batch, new blood so to speak, none had taken part in the three day 
competition before so the organiser, a small, bossy woman in her late fifties 
delighted in the task of filling them in on the details.
"It's an eight girl knockout competition. All your names are in a box and we'll 
draw you out in pairs for tonight's fights. So there'll be four fights tonight, 
two on Saturday for the winners and then the final on Sunday. You all know the 
details as far as the money's concerned, otherwise you wouldn't be here."
She allowed herself the hint of a smile.
"You'll go eight rounds tonight in six ounce boxing gloves, you've got your 
pants already and I strongly advise you to use the gum shields. The rounds are 
of three minutes and there's a minute break in between. We've provided a second 
for each corner tonight and they're both trained in first aid, so I don't want 
anyone else at the ringside is that clear, it gets like a bear garden in the 
hall as it is without people cluttering up the corners and so on. Any 
questions?"
A few slow head shakes and surly stares later she said, "I'll show you the 
changing facilities."
After a decent interval she returned with an enormous bundle of towels and a 
plate fringed with strips of Elastoplast.
Most of the women were naked but for the little cotton pants. Some of the 
comelier of them did look quite bare as the scraps of white cotton hid little.
"Here you are," she said, dishing out the huge, white towels, "you'll need to 
pop your shoes back on."
Once all of the boxers were stripped off, most of them with the towels round 
their necks and shoulders, she began to stick the three inch long strips of 
plaster over their knuckles. The three women whose hair needed ribbon were 
dealt with and then she held out a canvas bag.
"All rings and things in here girls, I'll hang on to them until the final bell."
They traipsed out into the brightly lit hall. Eight bare legged women, several 
of them with their breasts bulging out from their careless covering of towelling 
and the organiser come referee.
She indicated a long bench right alongside the boxing ring. 
"Right, let's see who's going to kick off."
She delved in her capacious hand bag and, after some seconds of secretive 
shuffling, called out two names.
The two big, lesbian women stood, drawing their towels closer round their hefty 
shoulders.
"Shoes off," she snapped.
She hustled them up into the boxing ring and indicated an opposite corner 
for each. Two disreputable looking men shuffled down an aisle and took up 
station by each woman boxer. Each carried a small pair of black leather boxing 
gloves.
"Glove 'em up," called the ref.
The seconds turned the bemused women towards their corner posts and began, 
roughly, to tie the leathers on their trembling hands.
Naturally enough the boxers began to test the gloves as soon as they were 
finished. The dull thuds as they packed their fists into them were impressive 
to say the least. There was a gasp as the rough seconds pulled the towels off 
their fighters. Both were big, strong girls, both about twenty five and, as 
they met in the centre of the ring, obviously well acquainted. Indeed they 
even held gloved hands as they stood before the bossy woman referee.
She could just be heard telling them the scant rules.
Briefly they would fight eight rounds and could hit one another where ever they 
liked as long as it was with the clenched fist. The count, as for men's matches, 
would be just ten seconds instead of the normal women's professional boxers' 
period of insensibility which for some years now had been a full twenty seconds. 
With a final squeeze of gloved right hands, they returned to their corners to 
await the bell.
Both had short cropped hair, round rustic faces, large breasts and mighty 
shoulders and forearms.
They began to hit out fairly gently, even apologetically but, by the end of the 
first, they were punching one another hard, both in the face and breasts.
They stormed out for the second and began a toe to toe exchange of bone jarring 
straights to their faces. When they turned for their corners at the bell, both 
boasted cut and puffy eyes. They were sweating heavily too, a sign of 
unfitness probably, but it wasn't stopping them giving and taking the cruel hard 
punches. The second and third rounds were the same despite the girls' obvious 
lack of fitness, both dripped with perspiration in their corners awaiting the 
bell for the fourth. They both collected split eyebrows during the round and 
stood, blood running down the side of their faces during the break, their 
seconds seemed to ignore the injuries, indeed so far they'd done very little for 
the sweaty women. In typical womens' boxing style they each worried the 
other's cut eye unmercifully, by the end of the fifth each damaged eye was 
simply a puffy, gory slit and the sides of their face and neck were covered in 
blood. 
The female referee cast a glance in their direction as they turned for their 
corners but made nothing more of it. 
They would both change tactics for sure now, and go for the other's good eye, 
with that closed too one, or both of them would be fighting blind. The round 
began with a predictable and cruel flurry of big right handers to one of the 
girls' battered face her other eye began to swell alarmingly. Blood ran too 
from her nose, the last half dozen punches or so, with her unable to see them 
even coming, had all been straight rights to her poor nose. It felt twice it's 
normal size but, as she couldn't see, she'd no way of knowing for sure. In 
any men's' boxing matches she definitely wouldn't have been let out for the 
seventh, indeed in most of the professional womens' fights, the towel would have 
gone in.	In truth, rather than come out for the round, she stood, unseeing, 
and waited for her big friend to come for her. She felt the leather in her face 
and breasts, bearing it for as long as she could before crashing at her friend's 
feet. It took a good five minutes before she began to show signs of life.
All the women on the bench looked at one another.
So this was what it was about.
The girl who'd won would box again tomorrow, starting the fight with a sore face 
and a cut eye.	
By the time the ring was cleared and the two previous boxers hunched over on the 
bench, one of them groaning and bleeding horribly, the referee appeared 
before them.
"Enjoy the fight?"
As a rhetorical response she delved into her bag again.
Sue was called and another girl, the smallest looking of them all. Most of 
the eyes in the crowd, especially the men's, were on Sue's big body as the 
towels came off and the soggy six ouncers went on. But several of the 
ringsiders noticed how well defined the muscles rippling beneath the little 
girl's skin really were.
At the bell for the first the little one faced up to Sue in a classic boxing 
pose, everything tidy and tight, elbows in, wet little boxing gloves up under 
her tucked in chin. Sue just smacked her in the mouth, ignoring the boxing 
glove so strategically placed. The girl dropped back a step and zipped a 
perfect left lead into the meat of Sue's baggy right tit. Even Sue's ruddy 
complexion deepened and she charged at her, crowding her back against the 
ropes, swinging uppercuts, crosses and haymakers into any bit of the girl she 
could see. A sickening right uppercut up between her legs made the little girl 
fold onto the floor writhing in agony. Her white face riven by thin trickles of 
blood from her nostrils and a line of red blood from the corner of her gagging 
mouth.
Several of the crowd began to shout, "mismatch," and "stop it," but the referee 
began a slow count and Sue stood over the fallen girl, one black boxing glove on 
her mighty hip, with the other she cradled her aching right breast.  By 'eight' 
the little girl's further participation in this so called boxing match looked 
very doubtful, but she finished the ten count on her shaky knees and the spiky
referee gave her the benefit of the doubt, to the dismay of many of the 
spectators and the delight of many more. 
Sue managed to hit her again a couple of times before the bell and she limped to 
her corner looking like she'd done a dozen rounds rather than one. 
Blood smeared the lower half of her face and she sat very gingerly, easing her 
right boxing glove down into her lap almost immediately.
Pearl, with her very exaggerated crotch gap, knew exactly what hell she was 
going through. She'd had many a fist in the fanny herself and knew 
that, apart from the pain and humiliation, it didn't do one's mobility a bit of 
good.
Indeed the girl seemed to have stiffened up even as she sat out the minute's 
break, she seemed almost rooted to the spot at the start of the second. Sue 
gave a ghastly grin and began to slug her in the face till she bled badly from 
the nose and mouth. 
Seemingly satisfied with this, for the moment, she hooked away at the girl's 
little grapefruit breasts, each heavy blow making her squeak with pain.
The calls from the hall for it to be stopped were quite insistent but fell on 
deaf ears. 
The referee watched every blow as it landed.
Sue, aware of her morbid interest, went back to the girl's poor face. Her 
timing was impeccable, with about twenty second's to go she caught the little 
one with a vicious straight right as she half staggered towards her. Her pert 
little nose crunched and spread across her face, blood squirted down over her 
taut swollen breasts.
She stood for a second or two, then went down on her boyish bottom, gloves 
out behind her, watching her blood stain the waist band of her tiny, white 
panties.
The referee cattily called it a technical knockout as the bell rang to end the 
second.
Sue raised her bloody boxing gloves above her head but there were few genuine 
cheers.
"It was her or me," she thought, holding out her hands for the soggy gloves to 
be prised off.
The girl was left to drag herself to her corner where her gloves were roughly 
unlaced and snatched off and she was pushed cut of the ring.
Pearl budged up the bench and managed to wrap the girl's towel loosely 
round her face to try to staunch the blood from her busted nose.
The referee came down and called the penultimate pair.
The two eldest of the boxers, each around forty.
Their tangas looked quite ridiculous round their great hips and barrel thighs. 
Both pairs of mighty, veined tits swung dangerously down near the navel. They 
probably wouldn't be too worried about losing their looks either. If nature 
hadn't dealt them a bum hand in the first place then time had already robbed 
them.
"I've a feeling this won't be too subtle either," thought Pearl, as she patted 
the young girl's sweaty thigh.
At the bell to start they lumbered over to ring centre and one another.
The wet boxing gloves shlucked into their flabby faces and sack like breasts. 
At the bell to stop they swaggered back to their corners, each leaning on the 
padding, scorning the proffered stools.
Out for the second, another three minutes of clubbing blows.
At the start of the third one of than took an exceptional uppercut in her 
slack gut and she drooped forward. Her massive breasts hung invitingly and her 
opponent let her have it. 
Concentrating on just the left tit. It must have felt like punching a water 
filled balloon. First the breast went bright scarlet then blood began to 
dribble from the end of her teat. She folded her meaty forearms over her bosom 
letting the other woman use her face as a punch bag.
There were no cries of "stop it," for her.
When she turned for her corner at the bell there was spittle down her chin from 
her grotesquely open maw and blood dripped steadily from the end of her broad 
nose and her left nipple.
She pushed the second's arm away and stood pawing her bleeding breast with her 
boxing gloves.
They strode out for the fourth. Her opponent was keen to end it as quickly as 
possible and she rushed right up to her only to find six ounces of soggy leather 
thudding into her oncoming nose. She staggered back, partly blinded by tears, 
blood jetting over her waxy white breasts. Then it was stand off, hit and be hit 
for the rest of the round and they went to their corners both well bloodied.
By the sixth round the ring looked like a slaughter house, even the women's 
tree trunk thighs were wet with blood and the ring floor was a mess of drops and 
splashes.
Pearl shuddered and looked at the big, young woman left unscathed on the 
bench with her. Their eyes met, it wasn't friendliness they felt, more the 
comradeship in combat.
During the seventh both of them went down for a fairly long count and the 
blood loss and their excessive weight seemed to be slowing them. But they both 
came out for the eighth and last, at the bell the referee grinned cruelly as she 
held up the right glove of the woman who's breast had ruptured so early on in 
the gory fight.
Pearl stood, stretched, and looked into the boxing ring. Was this what she had 
been looking forward to for weeks?
The two blood covered boxers struggled through the ropes, the ring floor 
splashed and stained with their blood and that of the four other women who'd 
boxed before them.
The referee came, carrying the blood soaked boxing gloves.
Pearl felt disgusted, but said nothing as she handed one pair to each of them 
and indicated that it was their turn in the ring.
Pearl kicked off her flatties and stood five foot four. 
Her adversary, Tracy, stepped out of her red high heels and came down to five eight.
A big girl. Her crown of light brown hair made her look about six feet tall and 
even the blanket towel couldn't hide her big, firm forty inch breasts. Pearl 
glanced across at her and, not to be outdone, brushed her towel away from her 
own massive right breast. She was a forty double D too but, on her more squat 
body, the whole of the front of her seemed to be tit, whereas there was a few 
inches of flattish belly between the underside of Tracey's tits and her belly 
button. 
They climbed into the ring and gave their seconds the towels and foul boxing gloves.
A cheer went up from all the Red Lion regulars except Dave, Pearl's husband 
who, having watched the previous three brutal boxing matches, was more than a 
little worried for her. He'd seen her box many times before of course, when 
they were courting and first married but, he was sure time wasn't playing tricks 
on him, he couldn't remember seeing anything as brutal as this before.
These women were being allowed, indeed encouraged, to fight like gladiators, 
serious injury seemed a real possibility.
His frightened eyes returned to the messy boxing ring. But his fears were 
temporarily forgotten as he watched the two big women being gloved up.
His Pearl was first to get her hands into the soggy, blood soaked boxing gloves, 
she grimaced, screwing up her big blue eyes. 
But Dave didn't think he'd seen her looking so sexy for a long time.
Her big bum was all but bare and the smooth, puffy mound between her legs hidden 
only by the narrowest strip of white cotton. Her big breasts were intentionally 
bared, ready for whatever Tracey was about to do to them. Looking at them in 
the ring together it was their massive tits which dominated the brutish scene. 
Tracey too made no secret of her displeasure as the mushy boxing gloves were 
tied onto her big hands. She was a striking girl alright, why she should be in 
the ring with Pearl was a mystery to Dave, but then he couldn't see why anyone, 
man or woman, would get into a ring and beat one another senseless. But he did 
know that Pearl was a better person after she'd had a good scrap, win or lose. 
He'd seen her badly messed up a time or two, but she was tough and, judging by 
what he'd already seen, she'd need to be tonight. He looked Tracey over again, 
all eyes in the hall seemed to be on her. Her own large, dark brown eyes 
were on the squalid gloves which now adorned her fists. They were so 
incongruous. She could be a centrefold in any girlie magazine, especially as 
all she wore here was little more than a white g string. The way she was 
standing now, blood sodden boxing gloves on her meaty hips, tummy held in flat 
and tight, made her breasts jut ever more provocatively but so vulnerable.
The referee motioned them to the ring centre and, as she dropped her gloves to 
her sides, smudges of blood from them marred the side strings of her little 
pants.
"I'm not going to bore you with any guff, you've seen what the score is here. 
Let me see a fight to round this evening off."
The apprehensive women turned back to their corners to await the bell.
Dave, who'd trained and even sparred with his wife during the past couple of 
months, knew how keyed up she was. Her attitude to the whole competition was 
very positive and he also knew that their was a good deal of pent up emotion and 
aggression within her. He quietly hoped that the younger woman could look after 
herself. 
Tracey was big and imposing but she couldn't possibly have much experience of 
the fight game as she'd been announced as twenty years old, fourteen years his 
wife's junior.
The bell.
Pearl came out of her corner like a one woman demolition squad.
The crowd roared as she met the gorgeous girl coming off her stool. She managed 
to throw the first punch, a well executed straight right with the added bonus of 
her big, powerful thighs pushing her upwards. 
It connected with Pearl's chin, snapping her head back and causing her own right 
cross to miss Tracey by a mile.
The youngster grinned.
Pearl's big blue eyes narrowed and her cheeks flushed. She'd been bounced, the 
one big fear she'd had about this comeback. She knew she could stand the 
exhaustion and the pain, but she'd die rather than be made a fool of.
Tracey was well covered up now but Pearl saw instantly that, as she had her 
gloves properly up under her pretty chin, somehow her big right tit overhung the 
crook of her strong right arm. Before the girl had time to sort if out Pearl 
put all her considerable weight into a straight right of her own, slightly 
angled downwards smack into the trapped meat of the poor girl's bounteous 
breast. The bag of breast flesh was compressed explosively and the areola 
burst horribly. Surely the referee wouldn't let the beautiful young girl box 
on with such a disfiguring injury to her succulent young breast. 
Tracey stood, looking down at her ruptured teat, Pearl swallowed hard and, with 
one eye on the referee began to punch her in the face. 
Blood began to dribble from the split teat and her mouth became a gory mess.
Pearl looked the referee full in the face.
She shrugged slightly and Pearl hit the stunned girl twice more and she went 
down.
Most of the crowd yelled for her to stay down but she struggled up at eight and 
Pearl whacked her as hard as she could in the mouth taking out both of her front 
teeth. With blood running off the end of her chin she arched back and hit the 
canvas with a sickening and final thud. A gorgeous young girl scarred for life 
after a minute or so in the ring with Pearl and a pair of saturated six ounce 
boxing gloves.
The Red Lion crowd went wild, but the rest of the audience watched in silence 
as Tracey's second dragged her back to her corner. 
The referee callously kicked the remains of Tracey's teeth off the canvas floor 
of the ring into the front row of the ringside seats. A couple of young lads 
scrabbled among the cigarette ends to take them as souvenirs of the brutal 
evening.
Dave relaxed until he realised that this was just the beginning.
Once her second had untied the laces of her gloves Pearl said, "get them 
off me."
They fell to the canvas with a dull splat. She grabbed her towel and was out of 
the squalid ring in a flash.
It took a little longer to get Tracey back onto the bench. She held one end of 
the towel over her busted mouth, the other over her burst breast, she still 
moaned in pain.
Pearl thought about condolences but thought better of it. No one had forced her 
into the boxing ring, like Su had said, it was her or me. She was slightly 
worried in fact that the fight hadn't really tested her at all, but at least 
she'd no real injuries, just the slightest mark on the end of her strong chin 
where Tracey's little glove had caught her.
The referee made her presence known.
"Ok girls, not a bad show, back to the dressing room now please." 
They all found their discarded shoes and set off like a crocodile of wounded 
soldiers, to the back of the hall.
"You can shower if you want before you go and the four losers I won't detain you 
any longer. The winners I want you to write your names on these," she handed 
out plastic wallets, "and put your panties in them before you leave, you use 
the same ones till the end, and I'll see you four tomorrow at the same time."
The Red Lion gang walked back to the pub, they were fairly subdued, they all 
knew the Pearl had it all to do the next evening. Their apprehension for the 
landlady didn't seem to temper their thirst though and, after about half an 
hour, Dave had to call her in from the lounge to help him out. The regulars 
showed her a great deal more respect than they normally did, now they'd seen the 
first round of the contest.
The bar began to quieten at about ten thirty, it had been a long day. The 
mysterious stranger came to the bar, put his glass down and looked at Pearl.
She nodded and dried her hands.
She showed him the squalid room and said, "I'll just check with my husband 
whilst you get your gear out of your car."
It took several trips to the car park before he was unloaded. There was even 
less space in the tiny room now, they were on top of one another.
"I watched the boxing," he said, "a couple of those girls really got hurt." 
"It did seem a bit rougher than I'm used to but the crowd certainly got their 
money's worth," replied Pearl.
They both smiled, the ice seemed broken.
"You haven't still got those little panties have you?" he asked quickly.
Pearl coloured up a little. "No, the old dragon made us hand them back ready 
for tomorrow." 
"Pity," he smiled, "you looked great." 
"I've got some similar if you like." 
"And boxing gloves like you wore tonight?"
She thought for a moment, "there used to be a pair of black four ouncers here 
somewhere," she bobbed down to look in a cardboard box.
"Here we are," she smiled.
"You get the panties and I'll get my lighting sorted out, won't be a moment."
She came back with her right fist clenched.
"I want you to look like you did earlier in the ring," he smiled, "just the 
panties and gloves, I'll tie them for you unless you want your husband here."
Pearl didn't mind, which was just as well because Dave still manned the bar.
She stood in the corner, the photographer, well used to nudity, seemed to take 
more interest in his equipment than he did of her. She kicked off the flat shoes 
she habitually wore behind the bar, spun the waistband of her short, black skirt 
round and unzipped it. She stepped out of it and folded it loosely. Easing her 
panties down over her big hips, she opened her right hand, shook out a little 
silken package and pulled on the little white g string. It reminded her of last 
Saturday night, the final fling before a hard week of training and then this 
weekend's exertions in the boxing ring. She dragged the thin, white sweater 
over her tight blonde curls and popped the back catch of her large, white bra.
"There," she smiled, cupping her forty inch breasts, "that feels better."
He picked up the tiny gloves and handed them to her.
She pushed her fists into them and held them out for him to tie the laces.
"Just a few shots tonight. Stand as if you're in your corner waiting for the 
bell, feet apart, hands on hips brilliant."
"Now get your gloves up to your chin, beautiful."
He snapped away happily for several minutes, Pearl moving slightly 
between each picture.
Then he dropped the bombshell.
"You know several of the girls got injured tonight?" he began.
She nodded.	
"Well, if you get messed up tomorrow or Sunday, then that's how I want to shoot 
you."
She smiled nervously.
He fished the big cheque out of his jacket pocket.
"It will only mean you'll have to wait a few minutes before you get cleaned up, 
the seconds are useless anyway aren't they."
She had to agree with that.
"And I'll run you back here in the car, you'll be home before the rest of them."
Pearl took the cheque between her little boxing gloves. 
"Don't forget, there's plenty more where that came from. We've got plenty of 
photos of women boxers before fights and even after but they've always been 
cleaned up, so some of the reality's missing. Anyway," he smiled superficially, 
"you may come through unscathed, like you did tonight."
She too smiled weakly.
His wasn't a bad argument, and the money certainly wasn't to be sneezed at.
The deal was done.
He helped her out of the boxing gloves, patted her arm and said, "I'll be 
watching tomorrow, good luck and I'll be outside waiting for you like I said."
Dave was locking up by the time she'd dressed and got back to the bar.
She regretted having to take the g string off again, but she couldn't risk 
tempting her randy husband, it was late enough as it was. She told him about 
the photo sessions. He hummed and haad a bit but soon shut up when she showed 
him the cheque.
"It's made out to me," she smiled, and put the light out.
The atmosphere in the Red Lion was still quite subdued all day Saturday, they 
did a good trade but, even the most unpolished of the customers, skirted round 
the semi final set for the night. Poor Pearl wouldn't even know who she was 
fighting till the referee announced the first bout. She elected to walk to the 
sports centre on her own and gave herself plenty of time.
The huge, glass doors opened automatically and she was in, in what state she'd 
emerge in a couple of hours goodness only knew.
She went straight to the changing room and was surprised to find the other three 
boxers there already.
Sue even gave her a guarded smile.
They were all still dressed, the lessy one in jeans and sweater, her eye still 
looked a mess, it looked as though she hadn't sought medical attention or even 
tried to clean it up herself. Still it was her face. The older woman wore a 
dowdy looking loose woollen dress and gaudy, white high heels. Sue looked as if 
she was out for one of her all too frequent nights on the town. Smart black 
leather jacket and skirt. Snappy white blouse and high black leather boots. 
Pearl, like the big lesbian, had decided on jeans and a baggy shirt with her 
favourite old trainers bottoming it off.
The door eased open and the referee came in, easing the door with a fat hip.
"See you all made it, good."
She dished out the large, white towels. 
"Clean thank goodness," thought Pearl.
But the boxing gloves she had strung round her flabby neck looked horribly 
familiar.
"Twelve rounds tonight girls," she leered, passing round the plastic packets 
containing their sweat smelly panties.
Pearl opened her mouth to complain but she could tell she'd get little or no 
support from the other three, they were already getting undressed.
Su even said, "I'm looking forward to getting the gloves on again."
Pearl turned to look at her. She was tugging the dainty white blouse from the 
waist band of her leather skirt, braless obviously, her big nipples thrusting 
under the gossamer fabric. Almost ripping the button holes in haste, she whipped 
it off and heaved her big baggy breasts out into the room, the left one was red 
and quite angry, looking much larger than the right. She dropped the skirt and 
eased off her own g string to eagerly replace it with the one she'd worn the 
night before. She looked quite a sight in the g string and long boots. 
The other three took longer to strip off, the older woman eased her bra off and 
gingerly peeled a wad of lint from the front of her left tit. There was a good 
deal of dried blood on the breast, particularly underneath where the huge 
mammary lay on her bruised rib cage.
"All ready?" asked the referee.
They adjusted the big towels as best they could. "Ah, just a moment."
She looked in her handbag and drew out a jar of Vaseline.
Dipping in a dirty finger she spread a blob on the lesbian's eye and, having 
pulled the older woman's towel to one side, roughly slapped a finger full on her 
split teat. 
The woman winced and jerked the towel back over her bosom.
"That's the medical help for the evening," sighed Pearl to herself.
No sooner had they sat on the bench than two of them were on their feet again, 
ready to climb into the ring. Su and the older woman had been called.
The older woman looked grey and tired as she clambered through the ring ropes. 
Su bounced into the ring carrying her towel at her side. There was a chorus or 
wolf whistles at her bare tits and ass and her long, black boots.
She acknowledged the crowd and, draping her towel over the corner post, bent 
lasciviously showing off her bare backside to unzip her long, leather boots.
More wolf whistles kept up while she passed the boots out or the ring and stood, 
legs akimbo, massaging her huge, soft breasts.
The referee went to each comer with the six ounce boxing gloves. Even the 
corners of Su's mouth went down when she came to put her fist into the proffered 
boxing glove, it was damp and cold. Once they were tied on she brought them 
tentatively up to her nose. They stank of sweat and the sweet, sickly smell of 
blood.
The referee actually announced their names and that the fight was over 
twelve three minute rounds before nodding to the timekeeper.
So the older woman was called Marsha. She didn't look as gentle as her name 
implied. Her second grabbed the towel from around her neck and, those in the 
audience who'd forgotten were reminded of her injured breast.
She brought her left arm up, even before the bell, to get her elbow positioned 
over her wounded tit. It looked like it was locked there for the duration of 
the battle.
Su skipped out into the ring, dank gloves at her meaty thighs. She danced 
around Marsha, almost taking the piss. There was an awesome weight behind the 
right cross that she took on the side of her face, it threw her back against the 
ropes like a rag doll and stopped the fancy footwork. Su came back towards the 
older woman, gloves up to her crimson cheek, watching for any signs of another 
big right hander coming her way. 
Marsha tried a straight right but Su ducked and went in low, driving her 
own right glove hard into the other woman's belly. She grunted and clubbed Su 
about the head till she backed off and covered up. They both breathed heavily 
during the break but ignored the stools. 
Su already looked puffy around the face where Marsha's wet six ouncer had 
impacted.
During the second and third they slugged one another round the ring. First one 
seemed to be dishing out the leather but then the tide would swing the other 
way. 
They were head hunting all the time. It would have made much more sense for Su 
to have gone for Marsha's burst tit, but she didn't seem the type to use any 
kind of strategy in the boxing ring. Both of them continued to belt one another 
around till they each bled quite heavily from the nose and mouth.
The crowd were on their feet.
A good old fashioned punch up was into it's fifth round.
Su snorted a wad of blood down over her heaving breasts as the bell rang to end 
the brutal round.
She must have had some sense beaten into her because she began on Marsha's body 
in the sixth. She didn't score any direct blows on the injured tit, but got a 
couple of crackers into Marsha's right breast and one final uppercut up between 
her barrel thighs. 
All through the round though Marsha had her own right fist pumping away at Su's 
soft face, her nose looking thick and swollen and bled so badly that the front 
panel of her little g string was soaked with her blood.
They came out for the seventh and Su seemed ready to carry on in the same 
vein so to speak. She uppercut Marsha in the groin again and even the big tank 
of a woman had to drop her gloves and back onto the ropes for support. Her legs 
were like jelly. Su's puffy eyes dropped to the exposed mass of Marsha's hurt 
left breast.
She banged a left and a right in a quickly, but as hard, as she could. 
Marsha, against the ropes took the cruel blows full force, she couldn't back 
off an inch. 
Blood squirted onto the ring floor and ran down her belly and thighs. 
Su with victory in her eyes came forwards quickly.
Marsha arched her head back and butted her full in the face.
Su's boxing gloves went up to her face, soon blood ran down her forearms, 
dripping from her elbows onto the messy ring floor.
The referee came over slowly. She peeled Su's gloves from her pulped race, it 
was obvious her nose was broken. She made a gesture of finality and pointed Su 
in the direction of her corner.
"Well that's it for Su," mused Pearl.
But the referee's announcement made her bare buttocks clench.
"Marsha's disqualified for head butting, the winner Su." 
Su stood, propped against the corner post, covered in blood, her head on her 
spattered chest, some winner.
Again the awful fact dawned on most of the ringsiders, this wreck of a woman 
would get into this ring again tomorrow or risk losing all the considerable 
winnings she'd made so far. To end a boxing match with a broken nose was most 
unpleasant to say the least, but to begin a fight with one... 
Pearl shuddered at the sight of the two bloody women in the ring above her 
having what passed for boxing gloves pulled from their fists.
All too soon the referee was with them.
"Good scrap that eh?  Pity about the end, but these things happen."
Pearl shook her head slowly.
The referee followed the two boxers into the squalid ring.
Pearl was glad in a way that she'd ended up with the big lesbian girl. She 
would certainly be more of a pleasure to punch than the once beautiful Tracey. 
She was much bigger and much less attractive and besides Pearl didn't much care 
for the way she behaved in her pub sometimes, far too aggressive and bullish. 
Still she was in the right place now and no mistake.
Her second grabbed Pearl's arm and pushed the sodden boxing gloves onto her 
hands. They felt awful.  The padding, such as it was, was soaked and useless.. 
No wonder the two previous fighters had been so badly injured.
She looked across the ring, focussing on the blob of grease over the lessy's 
left eye. She didn't need her 0 level domestic science to tell her what she had 
to do.
"Twelve rounds of boxing," shouted the referee, "between Carol and Pearl."
The first round was a struggle Pearl couldn't get going properly and Carol kept 
jabbing her in the face the whole while, she didn't seem to have time to think 
about what she was doing. She used the break to sort herself out and she came 
out ready for the second. Her left fist began to find Carol's face and the thin, 
wet glove soon got the cut over the eye opened up. By the end of the round her 
left eye was useless, swollen to an egg shape, full of blood and blind.
Pearl knew what the next step was.
Carol made her work very hard though, she didn't lack doggedness. Covered in her 
own blood she came out of her corner for the fourth and fifth rounds.
Pearl hadn't come through nearly five rounds without picking up her share of 
cuts and bruises, no one boxing using gloves in the condition theirs were in 
could. Her nose bled quite badly down into her broad cleavage and her left 
nipple was very painful. Grazed by Carol's gloves and when she gone through the 
ropes in the third round. Indeed both her breasts were quite red and swollen 
but she was used to that from the old days.
They came out for the sixth and straight away Carol caught her again, in the 
mouth with a heavy right hander. Fresh blood dribbled down her strong chin, 
her bottom lip felt fat and looked nasty.
She retaliated with a wild haymaker. The leather smacked into Carol's seeing 
eye with a crack. The young woman fell back against the ropes, blindly lashing 
out at Pearl, a lucky punch got her on her sore left tit and she went wild. So 
did the crowd, half of them were on their feet, screaming for her to finish the 
big lesbian.
The fight should have been stopped. Indeed, it should have ended much earlier 
when Carol's cut opened up. 
Pearl whipped her mercilessly, she offered no retaliation. Pearl's broad 
shoulders heaved as she piled her soggy six ouncers into the finished girl. 
Without the punch in the tits she probably would have stood back and let the 
girl fall but she wasn't ready to stop hitting her yet and the referee 
stood back simply watching the grisly spectacle. At last Pearl eased up, then 
stepped away from her erstwhile opponent.
Carol was covered in blood from her hairline to her shaky knees.
She fell heavily to the spattered canvas, and rolled onto her side, gloves 
thrust between her bloody thighs bearing her pain and humiliation.
The crowd roared, especially the Red Lion regulars.
It had turned out to be a hard fought, hard won scrap.
Pearl lent against the ropes exhausted. After a brief breather she marched back 
to her corner, blood sodden boxing gloves above her battered head, acknowledging 
her acclaim. She brought her gloves down to be unlaced and peeled off, 
glancing down at her own front she watched the blood dripping into her cleavage 
from her own runny nose and cut and swollen lips.
Once Carol was able to stand they trailed back to the changing room for the 
penultimate time.
The referee handed Su and Pearl their plastic wallets. 
Su dropped her blood soaked g string into her bag and gingerly dabbed the mess 
off her front and face. Her nose had stopped bleeding but it was mightily 
swollen and sore looking.
She turned to Pearl and, without malice, said, "I'll see you tomorrow."
Pearl pulled on her jeans but left them loose at her waist and eased the baggy 
shirt over her shoulders, leaving the whole of the front unbuttoned, only her 
arms, back and shoulders were covered.
She eased herself into the back of the waiting Volvo, welcoming the 
comfort and the peace.
True to his word as soon as they were back in the exercise room it was 
down to business.
She picked up her little g string from the chair and, having stepped out of 
her jeans and shrugged off the shirt, pulled the panties up into the smooth vee 
between her sweat shiny thighs.
He came over with her black four ounce gloves and gently laced them on, 
they didn't need to be tied properly for the photos.
He focussed on her blood spattered breasts and messy face.
"It doesn't come much more realistic than this," he thought.
He brought the camera right up to catch the grazing and weals around her 
skinned left nipple.
"Pity your nose has stopped running Pearl," he signed, as he went in for a 
close up of her injured face.
She thought of Su, with her nose already broken before their fight 
tomorrow, and gave herself first a light tap and then a good, hard thump on 
the nose with the tiny four ounce boxing glove loosely laced onto her right 
fist. Two thick streams of fresh blood began down over her breasts and belly, 
soaking into the vee of white silk over her vagina.
"There," she gasped, "is that better?"
The photographer shot spools of film as Pearl posed in the boxing gloves and 
tiny pants, blood still streaming from her hurting nose.
Finally his concern for his subject overcame his lust for good pictures and 
he unlaced her boxing gloves and handed her a box of tissues.
She dumped the tissues on the floor and buried her poor face in a large, white 
towel.
"Will I see you tomorrow? You are going to fight that Su?"
"Yeah, I'll be in the ring and you can pick me up again."
Not literally she hoped.
"Here," he said softly and gave her a cheque, "this is for tonight."
When he'd left the room she read the numbers, two hundred and fifty.
She cleaned herself up a little more, put on her shirt and jeans and went to 
tell Dave about the money, but not about her self inflicted injury.
Dave did everything he could to stop Pearl leaving for the fight on 
Sunday but had to admit, with her face cleaned up and after a good night's
sleep she didn't look too bad. A bit dark around her eyes and her nose 
looked swollen but she was still game to get in the ring and finish the 
contest. 
Following Su's reception in leather boots the night before, she'd dug out her 
knee length leather boots and a longish black leather skirt which she hadn't 
worn for years. It was a bit tight round the waist in fact, but then she knew 
she wouldn't be wearing it for long.
She did a twirl and Dave hugged her to him, "go on then, I'll be over as 
soon as the relief barman arrives."
Pearl and Su shared the big, cold dressing room.
She was glad to see that her opponent had worn her leather tonight, but 
concerned to see her tender and misshapen nose.
"You Ok?" she asked.
"Yeah, could have done without that hard fight last night though. That Marsha, I 
thought she was going to be easy meat."
"You worried about your face?"
"Yeah, but my nose has been broken lots of times, it'll be ok."
"Come on you two you should be getting undressed by now." 
It was the referee, scowling round the door jamb. She came in with a couple of 
the towels and two packages. 
"No shitty boxing gloves," thought Pearl instantly. 
She handed over the towels.
"Some admirer has donated a pair of boxing gloves and pants for each of you, you 
can take them when you go," she snarled, seemingly disappointed at their good 
fortune and that she'd been denied the pleasure of forcing them to fight in the 
disgusting boxing gloves that had already been worn for six matches that they 
knew of.
She stayed and watched than get stripped off.
Su was again first to bare her big breasts. They were puffy looking and 
mottled with deep bruising. 
The seven rounds the night before had left her with much more than a broken 
nose. The rest of her face was puffy and her ribcage and belly were crimson. 
She unzipped her little black leather skirt and slipped her thumbs into
the side strings of her g string. She looked expectantly at the referee.
"Here you are," she said grudgingly handed over the packages to the boxers.
Inside all was white.
A pair of bright white boxing gloves and a white g string each.
Pearl examined both items.
Someone out there both admired them and wished to see them hurt one another by 
the look of it.
The g string was nice, she held it up to her cheek.
"It's cabretta leather," she said aloud. The leather side thongs were tied in 
neat bows, "looks like our admirer is a woman to me," she gasped.
The referee kept her council.
The boxing gloves, though beautiful were not such good news.
On the cuff of each in fine gold lettering was the legend '4 oz.'
Su already had her string on, it looked great.
Pearl hitched up her long skirt and unzipped her tall boots. She got her jacket 
and blouse off, careful not to knock her tender left tit, and dropped her skirt. 
She too had worn a g string to the hall tonight, the blood stained one 
one she'd used for the photographic session, but no one seemed to notice or 
care. She put it away carefully in her jacket pocket and picked up the leather 
one.
It took several minutes of adjustments till she was satisfied with the way the 
vee of leather covered her bare cunt lips. She patted it gently, the leather was 
so soft and warm.
"Ok, boots back on you two, this is it, don't forget the gloves."
They clacked out into the arena, the big towels round their shoulders, each 
carrying a pair of the lethal four ounce boxing gloves.
The crowd were stamping and whistling before they even climbed into the ring.
They marched to their corners, each draping their towels over the top rope. 
They each turned hands high above their heads with the little boxing gloves 
dangling . 
The crowd went wild. 
Even Dave, by now at the ringside and with his fears for Pearl had to admit 
that they looked stunning. That is if you didn't look too hard at Su's 
crooked, tender nose. 
The crowd kept up their banter as the tiny, white boxing gloves were tied on and 
tried out.
Pearl smacked her fists together in front of her face, "these beautiful little 
bastards are going to sting," she muttered.
The referee brought them to ring centre, the noise from the crowd was deafening.
They stood facing one another for the first time. Their massive breasts almost 
touching, white boxing gloves planted firmly on their hips. From the back they 
looked completely naked, so narrow and well hidden were the leather laces of 
their g strings. 
Their boxing gloves covered the tightly tied bows on top of their meaty hips. 
"This is scheduled for fifteen rounds, and I don't want a recurrence of the 
head butting or you'll both be for it."
They strode back to their corners, great breasts swaying and bare buttocks 
juddering.
They didn't have long to wait, but the crowd admired the view whilst they could. 
As the bell clanged and they marched out, both pairs of white gloves up under 
quivering chins.
They began to punch one another. Almost immediately Su's nose began to run 
red.
"This is going to be a blood bath," groaned Dave.
Obviously Su had been expecting this, the first time the white leather landed on 
her nose the pain made her feel sick, but the second punch, the one which 
started the blood running didn't feel quite so bad. She knew she had to put her 
broken nose to the back of her mind and get on with the boxing. They carried on 
the hard punching to face and tits till the bell.
The tops of Su's swollen tits were spattered with blood and Pearl's little white 
gloves had spread blood all over the bottom half of her face.
Pearl had taken her own share of punches, a couple a hard bangs in the left 
breast hadn't done her much good either.
They were in the ring to damage one another as much as possible and, by god, 
that's what they were doing.
They came out for the second and their heads went back as they exchanged 
straight rights. Su took hers in the eye and Pearl felt her bottom lip burst 
between her teeth and the white leather boxing glove. Su, first to recover, 
punched her as hard as she could in the left breast. 
Pearl felt the bile rise in her throat, it felt like someone had stuck a knife 
into her tit.
"We must be fucking mad," she groaned.
Su's mouth hung open and a broad ribbon of blood marred her chin and ran into 
her deep cleavage. She was on borrowed time and both of them knew it.
Pearl hit her hard in the face again and she grunted as the thinly padded 
knuckles crashed into her nose and mouth. Blood cascaded down over her blue 
bruised breasts.
Surely it would be stopped.
She staggered back into a corner and covered her face as best she could with the 
ridiculously small boxing gloves. 
Pearl lobbed several crosses into the side of her head and uppercut her a few 
times in the guts before the bell intervened.
She got to her corner and sat on the stool. 
It took Su nearly half the break to reach her second and he absentmindedly 
flapped the towel in her face a time or two.
Several of the ringsiders shouted for Su to stay in her corner when the bell for 
the third rang out, but she rose slowly from her stool and tucked her gloves up 
under her bloody chin. She let Pearl come to her and poked out her left glove, 
keeping her at arm's length. So they began a minute or so of left leads. 
Each time Pearl hit her in the face it must have been excruciatingly painful, it 
was certainly very bloody.
Pearl's nose began to dribble too and she drew her forearm across her face and 
stared at the long streak of blood it elicited. She crowded Su again, 
bulldozing her back against the ropes. Su hooked her right glove up 
between Pearl's sweaty thighs and felt her knuckles dig into the big woman's 
mound.
Pearl gasped and her onslaught faltered.
Su tried the punch again but Pearl's legs had snapped shut and the glove didn't 
penetrate her. She knew she had to make the most of the opportunity so she 
pumped a couple of good, hard straight rights into Pearl's heavy left breast. 
A pinpoint of blood squeezed out of the teat and hung there until Su realising 
that the breast was fit to burst, uppercut the bag like tit with a cruel right.
Pearl groaned and fell to her knees, both her stained little boxing gloves 
hammocking her bleeding sack of a breast. The tiny vee of thin leather over her 
cunt had been forced in between the lips by Su's tiny boxing gloves, she looked 
naked and beaten.
Dave stared, white faced from the ringside.
Every inch of his wife hurt. Her face, her breasts especially the left one and 
up between her legs.
She became aware of the count and scrambled up at seven.
Su whacked her in the face with a right cross turning her head right round. 
She didn't know where she was. Blood from her streaming nose flew into the 
ringside seats and dribbled constantly from her split left nipple. The bell 
saved her bacon and she stumbled back to her corner.
She couldn't let Su have her own way again. 
They stood off and boxed.
She concentrated on Su's face and she was unrecognisable by the bell.
She herself had taken plenty in the face and breasts but felt that she'd done 
the most damage. A glance down at her boxing gloves strengthened her opinion. 
They were soaked with Su's blood and Su herself had blood down to her knees.
The first punch of the fifth put Su down for the first time. She walked into 
the straight right and fell to her side, twitching and groaning. 
Pearl stood over her, her blood dripping onto the canvas next to the fallen 
boxer, her gloves held tightly clenched ready for Su to rise.
She pulled herself up at nine and Pearl began to hit her again. It was vicious, 
but it had to be done. 
Su wasn't going to go to the canvas of her own accord. She did crash 
down again and the count began. She made it up at seven, but she was out on her 
bare feet. 
Pearl whacked her in the side of the face with a cruel right cross, there was an 
ominous crack and she fell heavily and lay, her face grossly distorted, blood 
pumping from her gagging mouth.
The referee, after counting ten, pushed the fallen boxer with her foot but, 
getting no response, reluctantly raised Pearl's blood wet right glove.
The crowd were quiet. 
Dave rushed to her corner and threw her towel over her shoulders, "I'll take you 
out to the car."
"What about her?" she indicated Su's inert body on the spattered ring floor.
Dave turned to the referee, "Are you going to look after her?"
"You're joking, I'm only paid to referee this farce."
He shrugged and called to a couple of the lads.
They got both women into the back of the Volvo and Dave got in beside them.
"You're not hoping to photograph these two are you?"
"That was the idea," he replied, glancing in the rear view mirror.
"It's exactly what he wants," mumbled Pearl from the back.
Dave shook his head then looked over his shoulder at the two women in the back 
seat, the large, blood smeared white towels over their heaving shoulders, their 
swollen, bloody faces and the soggy white boxing gloves on their spattered 
thighs.
By the time they were back in the little room at the Red Lion, Pearl wasn't 
feeling too bad, she was still bleeding profusely from the nose and mouth and 
she daren't move the towel to look at her left tit.
Su was still dazed and obviously didn't know where she was. In addition to her 
badly broken nose she obviously had a broken jaw.
Her face was all askew and the side of her face had begun to swell alarmingly.
"Just a few shots, then I'll run Su up to casualty," panted the photographer.
He and Dave managed to get Su's blood covered body propped up against the wall 
and Pearl posed before her as if she were still punching the shit out of her.
Dave watched her.
Her big, bare blood spattered breasts and bare bum the tiny, sodden boxing 
gloves he felt a bulge in his groin.
He went over to her and, crouching down, straightened the little, damp patch of 
leather over her big pubic bulge. He glanced between Su's thighs but there was 
so much blood down over her that her g string was indistinguishable amid the 
gore.
"Have you nearly finished?" he asked the photographer, concerned as he was both 
for Su's well being and to be alone with Pearl.
"Just a few more shots of the girls while they're still bleeding," he 
pleaded.
He shot away and Pearl posed for him, pearls of blood hanging off the 
undersides of her huge, swollen breasts, spattering her bare feet and the floor 
of the exercise room.
Su began to look grey.
"That's enough," snapped Dave.
He and the photographer took one of her arms each and lowered her to the floor, 
before unlacing the ridiculous boxing gloves. 
Pearl went off to find something for her to wear.
"What are you going to tell them at casualty?" she asked, holding out some 
underwear and a shell suit. 
"I'll say she's been in a fight," he replied, "that won't be telling a lie 
would it?"
"It certainly wouldn't", echoed Pearl.
She held her aching hands out to Dave to have the tiny boxing gloves removed at 
long last.
She threw them contemptuously into the corner of the room.
She found her jacket and took her other bloody g string out of the pocket 
and tossed that in the corner as well.
She looked at Dave and patted the moist vee of leather between her legs, "come 
on then, before I have a bath. 
But don't you dare touch my face or these," she cupped her great blood spattered 
breasts carefully in her trembling hands.