Jane3 By Smac Jane and Petra in the boxing ring 28/07/2004 In the few months after her thrashing in the boxing ring by the German girl, Petra Jane oft repeated her vow, never to do it again. As the year turned the corner though, she began to throw out the odd hint and allusion to boxing in general. Then, one evening as she was getting ready for one of her brutal breast beating sessions, she came straight out with it, "can you afford for Petra to come to us again?" Richard sighed. "Are you serious, was under the impression that last time was supposed to be just that, besides, why can’t I just put the boxing gloves on with you?" "I appreciate what you’re saying and thanks, but it’s not the same, I still get wet thinking about being in the ring with Petra, I’m sorry Richard but it’s got to be Petra I’m afraid." "So she’s going to come all this way just to smack you about in the ring for half an hour or so and then disappear again like last year?" "No, of course not, I’ve been thinking." Richard paused in his preparations of the ‘X’ frame, "and?" Jane stood passively in a vast, white bra and tiny white g string, ready, almost for her tit thrashing. "Well," Jane began, falteringly, "I think the gloves we used last time were just too small, I mean I only lasted a few rounds didn’t I?" Richard’s guts tightened as he recalled the carnage of Petra’s punching to his wife’s poor face in the final couple of rounds. "We’ve still got the little six ounce ones haven’t we?" he said. "Or even eight," she said, thoughtfully. "Yes, eight ounce gloves are what you ought to be using if you’re going to box properly." "That’s another thing," said Jane, sternly, "I don’t want just body punching this time, it was just too artificial, and," she dropped her voice, "I want to have a go at hitting back a bit this time, so you’d better check with her." "Ok, I’ll put it in the email," he said, clearly eager to get on with her punishment. "Oh, there’s more," she said, haltingly, "you asked what would be different this time darling." Richard raised his eyebrows. She turned to him, "we both enjoyed the video didn’t we?" Richard thought of the number of times he’d watched it in his study in the weeks after the event, and the number of times he’d shot his load, with Jane there or not. He nodded. "I think we should get Susan to come over again to look after me and to video the boxing." Again he nodded. "Look, I know this is a bit unfair but would you be happy to go into town for a few days so that I can have her to stay instead of me having to go to her house for my TLC?" He weighed up the pros and cons. He may as well stay in a hotel, at least he wouldn’t have to cook and wash up. He didn’t see anything of Jane until Susan was finished with her anyway. "Yeah, ok," he relented. Jane was relieved, she’d wanted Susan to herself after the boxing because, as seemed likely with the larger gloves, she might not take enough of the cruel punches between her legs as she had with the tiny, pink four ounce ones. Richard returned to the ‘X’ frame, "ok, I’ll email her when we’re finished." All the conversation about boxing and so on had made Jane quite flushed, she was already quite clearly aroused, despite the short postponement of her flogging. "Hang on," she blurted, "you’ve always wanted to get me in the boxing ring haven’t you darling?" He nodded. She turned for the door, "come on then, just a quick reminder of what it feels like." By the time Richard arrived in the utility room, Jane was longingly looking at the boxing ring set up there. She shook her head, "we mustn’t do it in the ring, that’s for me and Petra and, she added darkly, "I don’t want to get the canvas messed up." She went to the locker and found two pairs of scruffy, black six ounce gloves. She tossed the pair with Velcro fastenings over to her husband and dropped the lace ups at her bare feet. Her hands went behind her back and she snapped the catch of her bra which she peeled from her already sweat sheened breasts. Despite her arousal, she was trembling all over with beads of perspiration on her upper lip too. Richard whipped his tee shirt off and dragged his track suit bottoms and pants off in one go. "Do you want to keep your pants on?" asked Richard as he bent to retrieve the boxing gloves from her feet. By way of an answer she yanked the strings down her meaty thighs and, raising her bare knees one at a time flung it damply on top of her bra. As he tied her gloves on she panted as she told him what she wanted. Despite her masochistic streak, she was still the dominant partner. "Just punch me in the face ‘til my nose starts to run, then I’ll give you a tit wank by way of a thank you." Richard grinned. He loved to come over his wife’s enormous tits, just as she loved to do it for him, it was one of their favourite ways of love making. He simply worshiped her breasts. With her gloves tightly laced he awkwardly got into his, they both raised the boxing gloves in a symbolic fashion. He never thought he’d be in this position, he must have asked her twenty times or more to let him use the gloves on her but she’d always insisted that he stick to her regular and brutal breast punishments. "Ready?" he croaked, his penis beginning to stiffen massively. She nodded and dropped her gloves to her sides. Richard had never even worn boxing gloves before, but he was a big bloke and he’d been looking forward to this moment for a long time........... She grunted as his right glove found her nose for the first time. She felt something dribble down the inside of her thigh as she savoured the now familiar pain. She literally thrust her handsome face out towards her husband’s gloves. Willingly he punched her hard in the nose and mouth half a dozen more times. He dropped his gloves and she looked down over her chest. Blood was dripping off the end of her trembling chin, spattering the upper slopes of her vast breasts. She looked at Richard through tear filled eyes. "Let’s get my cleavage nice and wet," she smiled weakly. He punched her four more times, hard in the face. She began to sob as the blood from her poor nose started to literally run down between her pillow like bosoms. "Alright?" asked a concerned Richard. She couldn’t resist it, "just a couple of times here," she cupped her crotch with her pristine right boxing glove. She spread her thighs as much as she could and Richard uppercut her hard in the cunt, twice as she’d asked. She sighed and fell to her knees, juice running from her bare cunt lips onto the wooden floor. Richard moved over to where she knelt and his rampant hard on fell naturally into her blood wet cleavage. She hefted her huge tits with her boxing gloved hands and began to milk him. He was already on the verge of coming before she’d even touched him and, after a few seconds he came mightily, all over her breasts, chin and neck. He recovered almost immediately and moaned, "don’t move a muscle, I’ll fetch the Polaroid." Having decided to try to put up some opposition to Petra this time, Jane took it upon herself to do a little training during the few months remaining before the date of the planned boxing match. Richard found her a place at a local boxing gym. The sight of a 46 year old woman with a 38HH chest working out and sparring in tight little boxing shorts and sports vest was a sight to behold. Soon most of the others in the club, including the owner, Phil, knew all about the upcoming fight and the German girl, Petra. One evening, after all the other members had left and he was left alone in the smelly old club with the massively endowed Jane, Phil decided to chance his arm. "Do you wear chest protectors in the ring then Jane" As he’d had a couple of females coming to the club in the last two years, he had asked them and they’d replied that they certainly did use the cups under their sports bras. "Hardly," smiled Jane, "I don’t think you could get them in my size anyway," she laughed. He’d noticed that she always wore a bra to the club but, given the obvious size of her chest, he wasn’t at all surprised. "Oh, well," she thought, "here goes." "Um I don’t wear anything in the ring, " she admitted, "I’m hoping I can persuade Petra to go in naked as well this time." "You’ve boxed her before?" "Yes, two years running on my birthday." "How did you do?" Jane told him about her not fighting back. His eyes widened. "Didn’t you get hurt?" "Here, unlace my gloves and I’ll show you." At last, she was free of the big sparring gloves she’d worn for training. She went to her capacious handbag in one corner of the gym. She took out her wallet and, hesitantly, held a photo out for Phil to look at. It was a still of her in the ring after the last brutal beating. Phil’s jaw dropped, "my god, she did mess you up didn’t she?" Jane nodded. "It’s what I wanted, like I say I’ve done that twice, but I’m going to have a go at hitting back this time." She began to feel a familiar wet, warm feeling under her little boxing shorts as, again, she recalled her time in the ring with Petra. Phil couldn’t take his eyes of the photo. It showed a bowed Jane, her face, breasts and belly covered in blood. But it was the tits he couldn’t get over. She sensed what he was drawn to. "You may as well see the real thing." She drew her thin, sweaty vest over her head. Phil’s eyes widened as she popped the catch of the overburdened bra. She stroked her huge, sweaty breasts. "So that’s what they look like when they’re not covered in blood," he half joked. "Yes," she smiled. She went on to tell him about Richard and her the few weeks ago when again he’d bloodied them. By now there was a large bulge in his jogging bottoms. She dropped to her knees, "come here," she purred. She wrapped her massive mams round his iron hard cock. He came, massively all over her neck and breasts. She stood up, mopping herself with her discarded vest. He mumbled his thanks. "That’s not all, if you make a good job of training me up, I might let you have a tape of the fight, one of our neighbours always video’s the action." She headed for the changing room, still topless. He shouted after her, "see you next week?" "I’ll be here." Petra finally replied to their email. Yes she was happy to have Jane fight back, in fact she seemed almost relieved and she was willing to box nude, as long as there were no extra spectators. Richard emailed her again to remind her that the doctor, Susan, would be there again this time. The Saturday morning arrived. Jane woke early and went straight to the utility room to check everything was in place. The ring looked good. There were huge, white towels draped over the ropes in each corner and on the stools were the beautiful little white six ounce gloves she’d bought specially for the occasion. She’d looked at the eight ounce gloves whilst in the large sports shop, but they just looked too big and awkward to her. She turned and headed for her bathroom. An hour or so later she emerged and went down to the breakfast bar where she was sure Richard would be. "Went anything to eat?" he asked from the sink. "No thanks, I’ve got butterflies in my tummy." "Nervous?" "Yes but not as bad as before, I can’t wait for Petra to come so that we can get on with it." Richard smiled, "not long now." She glanced at the clock, "I’d better get ready. When she reappeared all she wore was the familiar little white silk robe, she was even barefoot. The doorbell rang and Richard dried his hands and headed for the hall. Jane rang Susan to tell her it it was on. They all met up in the utility. Susan had brought a little suitcase with her, as she was to stay over and she looked stunning in a black leather mini skirt and see through blouse with teetering black heels. She looked more like a prostitute than a doctor thought Richard. In a flash Jane and Petra were in the boxing ring. Jane sat on her stool in her gown to watch the German woman strip off. She’d already kicked off her shoes so she stood in jeans and a leather jacket and a top. She took her jacket off and gave it to Martin, then she struggled to get the skin tight jeans down her sturdy thighs. She was braless beneath the little top so she left in just a white cotton thong. Her big breasts jiggled around as she pulled it down and stepped out of it. Beneath she too was bare and shiny. Her beautiful, puffy cunt lips shone. Jane stood and slipped the gown off. "Just the gloves now," she thought. She looked longingly at Richard and he unhitched the little white leathers from the top rope. She came massively as he laced the boxing gloves onto her trembling hands. She glanced over to the opposite corner where her naked opponent was having her little boxing gloves laced on and wondered how she’d fare in the coming rounds of boxing. Richard started the automatic timer after a nod from Martin. The buzzer sounded and the two women approached ring centre. Martin made them touch gloves but they also kissed each other on the lips before raising their leathers, this time Jane too tucked her gloves up to her trembling chin, as she had been taught by Phil. It didn’t immediately seem to help though, as Petra tagged her straight away with a cruel right to her left eye. She shook her head. The six ounce gloves certainly didn’t feel much different than the little four ounce ones they’d used last time. Petra decided that she liked the gloves, they were much lighter than the gloves she had to use in the professional ring. She got her left lead working like the pro she was and Jane’s head was snapped back time and again, despite the very correct guard she had set. When the buzzer sounded to end the first round she returned to her corner and Richard out of breath and hurting about the face. During the round Susan had decided to divest herself of the transparent blouse and so came to her corner in just the heels and leather mini. She stood just outside the ring, her baggy breasts draped over the top rope, "you ok, she knocked you about a bit didn’t she?" Jane sighed, "yeah I’m ok, it’s what I’m here for isn’t it, I didn’t really think I’d inflict to much damage on her," she nodded over to Petra, who was standing in her corner banging her little white boxing gloves together, obviously eager to start the next round. With a shrug in Richard’s direction, she went back to her little chair and, kicking off her high heels splayed her bare feet on the wooden floor, her eyes closed. She opened them as the buzzer sounded for the second. Jane stood, defiant, her great bosom heaving for despite her recent training she was still mightily unfit. By contrast Petra fairly danced out of her corner, her ample breasts jiggling on her chest as she did so. Jane smiled weakly, as if to acknowledge her and Petra began to hit her again. She staggered the older woman about half way through the round with a big right to her face and blood began to trickle from her already swollen nose. Richard sighed, "here we go again," he thought. Jane sniffed and dragged one of her gloves across her nose. She glanced down and, through her tear filled eyes, saw the tell tale red smears on her once pure white boxing glove. Petra whacked her again in the same spot and Jane staggered back, hands pawing for the top rope behind her. Petra piled a cruel uppercut into her as yet untouched right breast and Jane sighed as she came for the second time. "Get off the ropes," shouted Richard. She slid along the ropes but then became caught up in her own corner, where Petra continued to pepper her face and breasts until the buzzer for the end of the round. Richard eased the stool under her and she sank her bare bottom down onto it. Susan looked at Jane’s nose and decided to stay put. Richard went to sponge off the blood from her upper lip and chin but she waved him away to sit panting, trying to get her breath back for the third round. She stood, stoically when the buzzer went and approached ring centre and the buoyant German woman. She dropped her gloves and, bending forwards, kissed Petra on the lips, leaving a smear of blood on her face. Petra smiled, but raised her leathers in a forceful way. Jane too brought her gloves up to her chin and soon they were at it again. This time though, while Petra keep up the constant tattoo of crisp lefts and rights to Jane’s poor face, the older woman began to swing her fists, finding Petra’s board hard belly more than once. Petra actually smiled, the punches were obviously not bothering her in the least. Just before the buzzer sounded one of Jane’s clumsy punches caught her higher up, on her left breast. That was a first for her, a quite hard blow to her bare breast. That did hurt. Even the naive Jane could tell she’d hurt her opponent. As the buzzer sounded Petra whacked her own right glove deep into Jane’s left breast and they both returned to their corners with a forearm over their throbbing left tit. The last punch of the third round hurt Jane and brought back literally painful memories of the last time they’d met in this boxing ring. Susan got up slowly and sidled over the Jane’s corner again, Richard openly ogled her bare, brown breasts as she leant into the ring to more closely examine Jane’s, now very bloody, nose. She very gently felt Jane’s nose and then nodded to Richard. He interpreted the nod as ‘all was fine,’ her nose wasn’t broken, yet. Over in the opposite corner, Martin made to mop his charge’s face, but she sighed and dragged the cold sponge down onto her throbbing left tit. She mentioned to him that she’d never been punched in the tits before. He was in a quandary, he loved to see her bare breasts on show, but could sympathise with how she must be hurting, she’d never before mentioned any pain whilst in the boxing ring. Jane knew all about breast pain, she also knew that, for her, this was just the beginning. The buzzer sounded for the fourth and Jane stood, she more or less knew what this round was going to be all about, maybe it hadn’t been a good idea to whack Petra in the tit. As expected, Petra went straight for Jane’s chest. It looked as if she was using the balloon like tits as speed balls. Jane began to scream, even in the last fight the body punching had been nothing like this after all. Petra kept up the barrage of punches for the whole two minutes, each punch to her opponent’s chest. By the end of the fourth, she was quite puffed but Jane returned to her corner, grey faced and crying in pain. "Christ," she sobbed, "this is much worse than last time." She cupped her scarlet breasts in her pristine white boxing gloves. "Oh, my God, I’m sore," she sighed. In the opposite corner, Petra watched her. "I think I’m paying her back," she half smiled to her husband. He nodded enthusiastically and looked over his glowing wife, she looked sexier than he could ever remember. She looked as if she’d been lightly oiled, she stood, ready for the fifth and he couldn’t resist hugging her round the shoulders, "going for her tits again?" he asked hopefully. She nodded and smiled, "yes, ok." Again, all through the cruel round, Petra punished Jane’s bounteous breasts. The little boxing ring seemed full of flopping, bouncing tits and Jane’s screams. By the buzzer Richard noticed blood dribbling from both his wife’s tortured teats. He looked at Susan, she was on her way to their corner, pulling on white PVC gloves. Jane was openly crying, the tears streaming down her blood streaked cheeks. "I’ll try to be as gentle as I can," soothed the doctor. "Why the hell is she doing this," she thought, but, as she gently felt each, once beautiful breast she noticed that the big woman was actually squirting come from between her barrel thighs and it was soaking into the plain wooden top of the stool. She didn’t feel so bad for Jane, she did think about asking Petra to lay off a little but, almost immediately dismissed the idea. Didn’t Jane herself say it was what she wanted? Her guts tightened though as she gently let the huge baggy breasts assume their usual position on Jane’s sweaty chest. Blood dripped steadily onto her big, white thighs as she lay her head back on the corner post, eyes closed, breathing heavily and sobbing slightly. Come still dribbled from between her legs though. Susan turned to Richard, thrusting her own not inconsiderable bosom under his nose, "let’s see what happens in the next round." He nodded, grim faced. As it happened Petra’s own breast pain was a memory now. Albeit, not a nice one. She reckoned she’d paid Jane back, but it wasn’t going to stop her punching her in the chest during the coming round, if she got the opportunity. Jane stood for the sixth, blood smearing her sweaty thighs, she looked a sorry sight. The first punch, in the very centre of her poor face, confirmed that the tactics were, indeed, changed. She began to sniff as blood sprang from both nostrils. Little spots of blood flecked her raw tits as Petra uppercut her a couple of times in her guts, causing her to gasp for breath. While Jane was crouched over, bearing the pain in her abdomen, Petra whacked in the face a few times and she folded to the canvas in the foetal position, her back and big bare bum quivering as she sobbed. The two seconds looked at one another quizzically. Jane lay there moaning and Petra sidled back to Martin for a quick drink of water. Richard motioned to Susan and she padded slowly over to the ring. Concerned for the fallen woman but, half hoping that she wouldn’t be expected to stop the boxing. Susan needed to actually climb into the boxing ring this time. She looked awkward in her tiny, tight leather skirt. Her large breasts got tangled in the ring ropes, but at last she was able to crouch down by the sobbing woman. She stroked the back of her neck, soothingly. "Are you ok, Jane?" She nodded weakly. She straightened out painfully, and flopped onto her back on the spattered ring floor. One look was enough, "she’s busted your nose again," sighed the doctor. Jane nodded again. Petra and Martin looked towards the centre of the ring, wondering if Jane was going to pack it in. Richard had tears in his eyes as he surveyed the scene, his handsome wife flat on her back in the grubby boxing ring, covered in blood from her forehead to her knees. "Why did she have to do this?" She struggled to get her elbows on the canvas. Blood ran down her crevasse cleavage, on over her scalding belly. She whispered to Susan, "help me up, I’ll see if I can make it, at least to the end of this round." Susan shook her head, but put her hands under Jane’s slick armpits. It looked surreal to see the scantily clad doctor, in just a leather skirt and presumably panties, helping up the blood spattered Jane to face Petra’s cruel fists yet again. Petra looked pleased as Jane stood, swaying slightly where she’d knocked her down half a minute or so before. She smiled knowingly at Martin and, bouncing her blood sodden six ounce gloves before her, danced out to finish Jane off. It wasn’t very scientific, she just clubbed the bigger woman about her bloody head. Suddenly, while Petra was taking a short breather, without an actual blow being landed, Jane slumped sideways onto the stained canvas. Alarm bells rang in Susan’s brain. She scrambled into the boxing ring much quicker this time. She checked pulse and breathing. She was panting herself, her mouth dry, her fingers trembling. "Pass me my bag," she yelled at a mesmerised Richard. He slid it into the ring in her direction. She first took her torch and checked Jane’s pupils beneath her massively swollen eyelids. "She needs resuss," she said falteringly to Martin, who was now crouched beside her white faced. "We don’t want too many awkward questions," she said quickly but quietly, "I’ll need to call in some favours here." She grabbed her mobile ‘phone, clumsy in the PVC gloves. "I can hopefully get her into a private ward at Queen’s where there shouldn’t be too much fuss," she said conspiratorially. It took her, Martin and Richard to get the unconscious and near naked Jane out to the Volvo estate. Jane was kept under sedation for three weeks. When fully conscious she seemed fully recovered except for a slight slurring of her speech, which the doctors assured her would get back to normal in no time. Needless to say, she never went anywhere near a boxing ring again.