What was it with some of these men? Judith had another macho male supremacist to tame, Darren. His wife, sick of his attitude, had secretly contacted Judith for help. She went through the same process so recently seen with Matt (                 ). The interview failed, so she showed him a clip of a general knowledge quiz where the woman beat the man. Fake, he said. Okay, she showed him a male-female tennis match. Surely even he would be able to accept that the attractive athletic young woman in the short white pleated skirt won fairly. No, it was staged, he said. 

So it got to the penultimate level: suppose she told him that occasionally a woman could take on a man in a fight and win? He guffawed at that, so she made him take his clothes off and chose to show him a random film as she did with Matt. This time it was a mixed freestyle match, and the woman turned the man into a sobbing wreck with a torrent of punches, knees and kicks.

"Pass me the sick bucket," was Darren’s response.

Okay then, it was time for the light blue leotard. Since the film had featured freestyle fighting, she would despatch him in any way she chose.

"I don’t have any MMA gloves around at the moment," she told Darren as they made their way to the ring. Are you okay for bare fists?

"Suits me," he answered. "I’m looking forward to putting you in your place," he added, climbing into the ring.

"And I’m looking forward to humiliating and embarrassing you," she countered, raising her fists.

They circled, staring at each other. Darren fired a jab, and Judith warded it off. She replied with a high kick, broadside on. It was the kick equivalent of a jab, really, probing, experimenting, and Darren did quite well to escape it – sort of. He ducked under it, and certainly it missed his face. But he brought up his arm to protect his face, so that her kick caught him on the wrist. That would hurt enough. 

Judith fired another kick with the opposite, left, foot, at body height, and Darren successfully countered it, blocking it with his left arm.  

So far, each participant’s defence had been pretty good, and Judith nudged a left jab away with her shoulder, glaring at Darren as she did so. Getting frustrated, he struck out with his right, but she leant back out of its path.

"Oh, that was so very nearly good!" she jeered, putting her arms around his neck as if about to kiss him in congratulation – while she brought her left knee up heavily into his balls. 

Furious, red-hot pain throbbed in waves from his balls, seemingly throughout his body, and Darren broke off, clutching his manhood and stumbling.   

"Oh, dear!" Judith continued her mockery, "Has macho man discovered that men are vulnerable to women after all?"

It seemed to give her greater impetus, because she now tore into him with a mighty left uppercut. Her fist charged under his chin, his teeth clanged together, and his head shot backwards and upwards. Appearing to warm to the theme she struck him on the temple with a right cross, just beside his eye. The contrast between her masculine style of fighting, and her beautiful feminine appearance was startling and contradictory – but how effective they were together!

Darren was on the ropes and Judith appeared to glue him there with a left cross, plumb on the chin. Then she moved him along them, courtesy of her right fist rocketing into his ear. He instantly heard an obscene crackling, unbearably loud, in his ear; then his hearing went foggy, and life took on a dreamlike quality – until, that is, she woke him up with a super kick to his chin. This was the real thing after her earlier experimental kicks. Pivoting on her left foot, she spun away from him, but returned with her right foot, broadside on to his chin. It sent him running backwards into a corner. 

It was black eye time!  Judith managed to fit her left fist snugly into Darren’s right eye. The skin around it puffed up and discoloured. This was turning out to be a very profitable corner for her, and she furiously hammered his jaw with her right. 

Keen to leave her mark literally, she now punched him on the nose. There was a hideous "crack" as she sent her left fist upwards at her latest target. His mouth opened to no apparent purpose, and his eyes narrowed in a grimace of pain. It only got worse when she got him in the same place on his temple that she had recently struck, just next to his eye. 

"Mustn’t neglect the balls," Judith murmured, kicking him there. One delicate light blue boot caused him to yell in pain. His head went back, and he dropped to his knees in agony and despair. She forced him onto his back. Just one punch put him out, and she celebrated a comprehensive win. 

She had a welcome drink in a corner, looking on contentedly at the heap of a man sprawled on the mat. She turned round, stretched gratefully, and thought she would go and get changed. Darren could do as he chose once he recovered consciousness.

Quite when he did recover is a moot point. The fact is, he had been "playing dead" for some time and Judith had failed to notice. Black mark! His acting had literally given him a fighting chance, which he now took. He crept silently towards her and suddenly seized her round the waist, lifting her off her feet. 

"Not so clever now, are you?" he sneered, increasing his grip around her middle, in what was – to all intents and purposes – a bearhug.

Darren was a strong man, and he had Judith in trouble. She tugged at his linked arms to no avail. She felt something against the back of her thigh, which could only be one thing – an erect penis. Oh, he liked it rough, did he? Very well then, she thought, pushing violently against the ropes with both feet at once.

The momentum sent them toppling backwards onto the mat, Darren landing painfully on his back, Judith disagreeably, with his sweaty hands grabbing her, and his erection prodding her. 

"You dirty bastard!" she hissed.

"I know," he laughed. "I love it!" He groped her breast to emphasise the point. His hands probed lower …

Judith broke free, jumped up, and ran. Darren did the same last two things, wallowing in the chase. He leapt into the air to grab her shoulders; she spun round, sprang in turn, and thrust her left fist massively into the pit of his stomach. Her punch felt as if it had set his abdomen on fire, and he landed heavily, but on his feet.

Judith’s mood was transformed. Previously she had just been doing her job; now it was personal. It was no longer just her task to "tame" him, she was determined to punish him for groping her too. She hit him once again in that same spot on his temple, this time with a right hook. Her fist made a slapping sound as it landed furiously on target. 

"Oof!" they both seemed to say, though for different reasons, when Judith plunged her left fist low into his stomach. Clever footwork gave her punch greater momentum, and she had him on the ropes. Then she spun him along them with a right hook to his jaw. Raw pain mingled with fear of what this fearsome woman was capable of doing to him.

She went for his stomach again. Attacks here were almost certainly more telling than those to his face (although she found it more satisfying to hit that).  The professional voice within her told her this was the way to wear your opponent down. 

On the other hand, she had already created some vulnerable, painful points on his face, and she must exploit them. So she right hooked him in the ear. It was still painful from her earlier punch to it. We all know that if you catch a sore point accidently, it’s two or three times more painful than when you first hurt yourself. But if it’s done deliberately, by a determined opponent who knows what she was doing, then it becomes close to unbearable. 

Judith followed up with a good old-fashioned "smack in the mouth". It was a similar strike to the one that she got him with on the nose earlier – a rising stinger of a punch that made his eyes water. As Darren recoiled from that, with his lips throbbing, she got him AGAIN on that same spot on his temple, this time with a right cross. She was the mistress of the art of unarmed combat – a combination of boxer, karate expert and (when the need demanded) street brawler.

As if to emphasise the point, she now delivered such a punch that only such a mistress, at the top of her form, could execute. It was a superlative left uppercut. To see her at that moment, you could be forgiven for imagining that you were watching an ancient goddess of war, vanquishing her male foe. She was utterly beautiful, with the glorious womanly shape of an ancient goddess, too: large breasts, swinging slightly as she struck her opponent; round buttocks swaying in tandem; with delightful legs, perfectly poised, to give maximum ferocity to the blow. 

It knocked all awareness out of Darren. He blundered about like a zombie, turning his back on his opponent for no reason, other than that he was delirious. That lady recognised the gift and swung her right fist into his kidney. Ironically, the searing pain brought Darren out of his torpor, and he turned to face his attacker – just in time to receive her other fist into his opposite kidney. 

How long had he been on the ropes? It’s hard to say. But it was where Judith wanted him, and she now planted a dead straight right cross, exactly out of the textbook, on his jaw. There’s a reason the textbooks recommend certain actions, and one look at Darren’s pained face would prove them right.

He couldn’t last much longer. He was swaying drunkenly. He had got himself into that state, and it hadn’t cost him any money! (Never mind how much it cost his wife.) Judith resolved to end it now, and she swept her left fist into a glorious, exuberant, expansive hook. He almost fell through the ropes with the force of it. As it was, he was outside the top and middle ropes, from the shoulders upwards.

But he still didn’t go down. "When all else fails," Judith’s mother had told her, "go for the balls." It was simple enough. He was merely a target now, incapable of evasion, let alone fighting back. All she had to do was thrust her foot in there, like that … Yes, just like that.

Down he fell. Judith’s arms went up in celebration, but she had a little to do yet, and waited for him to recover just enough.  When she considered he had, she joined him on the canvas and took his erect cock in her hand, smiling as he gasped.

"So, macho man, do you know why you still have this massive erection?"

"N-no," he stammered, as her wise hand and knowing fingers began their task.

"We call it a ‘defeat boner’ in the trade," she explained, while working away with her hand. "It sexually excites a man to get beaten up by a woman. You’ve just had a fight with a sexy woman. She not only defeated you, she routed you. You’ve been humiliated, degraded, and even disgraced by a pretty lady; yet at the same time it sexually arouses you, doesn’t it?

"NO!"

"Not even a little bit?" she asked, looking into his eyes, knowingly.

"Don’t think so," he blurted out.

"Oh, it’s only ‘don’t think so’ now, is it? Moments ago, you were certain. Let’s try again. Little Judy gave you a black eye and a puffed-up mouth. Here’s the fist that did them," she smirked, showing him her left fist while never quitting her primary task with her other hand. "She hit you so hard, so many times, she had you staggering uselessly about the ring, and the thought of it excites you, no?"

"Ah, God! Don’t stop! Just like that … Yeeeeeesssssssss!"

Now was the time for celebration! After Darren’s convulsions subsided, she made him kiss her foot, and then her hand. Another macho man successfully tamed!