"I’m not going back there again!" Claire fumed at her friend, Jackie, over a coffee.

"Why not?" Jackie asked, surprised. "It looked a good enough job – rich businesswoman needed her house cleaning. The money was good. You got full use of the house, including her basement gym, once the cleaning was done."

"Oh yes, it did look good. Until I met her son."

"The spoilt 18-year-old, who doesn’t have a job?"

"Exactly. You know what the pervert does? As soon as ‘Mother’ goes out, he watches porn in the living room. He was completely unembarrassed, sitting there in just his boxer shorts. Expected me to clean round him, he did! I’m going to call Mrs. Johnson and tell her I can’t work there anymore. She’s going away for a business trip and wants me to go in for the next couple of weekends to clean while she’s away. I just can’t face it."

"Interesting," mused Jackie. "I’d like to meet this spoilt little shit – Jason, you say his name is? - and teach him a thing or two about women. Why not ring her, tell her you can’t spare the time, or something, but that you have a friend who would be willing to do the job?"

That is how Jackie came to ring the doorbell at No. 17, The Laurels, a few days later. Jackie was very different from her friend, Claire. Whereas Claire was quite happy to do her private cleaning jobs for people, Jackie preferred jobs with interest, competition and challenges. She worked in engineering and electronics, still pretty male-dominated, and she was always alert to any male condescension, real or perceived.

Her leisure time was just as high octane as her work. She was obsessed with physical fitness, but it was for a purpose: she competed in MMA cage matches. Her determination, courage and physical strength made her a respected and feared opponent.

Jackie and Jenny Johnson took to each other straight away. Jackie was ready to admire any woman who employed men, and Jenny seemed pleased to have someone she could rely on to "take no nonsense from Jason", as she put it. Jackie watched her drive off to the airport, envying her power. But she cheered up with the thought of meeting Jason.

There he was, lolling on the floor with his back resting on the sofa in the living room. Sure enough, he was wearing only boxer shorts and watching porn.

"Ahem," Jackie introduced herself, pretending to be shocked. "I’m sorry, but I need to clean in here."

"Don’t mind me," Jason answered. "There’s plenty for you to get on with while I carry on watching this," he added, he thought, helpfully.

"But I do mind," she told him a couple of minutes later, after removing the flimsy skirt attachment to her "cleaning outfit". This was a trim black leotard, in her case with matching MMA gloves.

She sat on the sofa and glanced down at him, but he seemed to be oblivious to her, lost in his make-believe world of kinky sex. Well, if kinky sex was what he liked … Jackie sat above him and suddenly clamped her thighs shut around his neck. He struggled and gasped as she went to work in grand style.

"Tell me, what do you know about women?" she asked. He couldn’t answer, so she continued: "I don’t mean those women you’re looking at, who are more than 50% plastic – including their brains. I mean real women who …"

But it was lost on him. She had knocked him out without even knowing initially. Her iron-hard leg muscles had despatched him without even the need for her to make much of an effort. So now it was time for her invention.

Jackie had spent her break times at work making a device that had her colleagues exchanging doubtful, worried looks. She had put her skills in engineering and electronics to warped use, and produced a chastity cage, that she now fixed on the unconscious Jason’s penis. But that was not all. She also had with her a remote-control box she had made, that would send enough electricity to the chastity belt to give him a shock.

"I’ve been dying to try this out," she thought, holding the control box. "All I have to do is flick this switch …"

ZIP, ZIP, CRACKLE, BURN. Jason woke up with more than one kind of shock. Oh, that worked so well! Jackie put her hand to her mouth and tittered as he lay moaning in the foetal position. When he recovered, he stood up and demanded, "What the hell is that?"

"What, this?" Jackie asked, showing him the control box. "It’s just something I made in my spare time to punish spoilt young men like you. It works very well, wouldn’t you say?"

"Bitch!" Jason shouted, raising his fists. "I’ll teach you to do that to me … ah, fuck!"

He fell to the floor as Jackie flicked the switch again. She stood smiling and flicked the switch to off. Once again, he stood up and raised his fists.

"We can fight if you like," Jackie told him, in the casual tone of someone offering him a cup of coffee. "Let’s go to the gym."

"You’re a bad boy, aren’t you?" she asked him rhetorically, stroking him under the chin, once they were in the ring. "Watching porn in front of the cleaning lady? Dear, dear!"

She slapped his face hard; he responded with his right fist, but she was too quick for him and dodged it.

Furious, Jason struck out with his left, but Jackie ducked under its path (giving her a good view of her handiwork encasing his penis). Damn her, he thought as she escaped a third punch. She was always a move ahead of him. So much so that she surprised him with a right uppercut to his jaw. Whether it was the surprise or her strength, it put him down to one knee.

Jackie helped herself to his big, lardy face, sweeping it with her left fist. He tottered, so she helped him on his way with her left foot, broadside on his nose. It put him on his back, so she now jumped up high and bombed him, landing with both feet on his stomach. She was as cruel fighting as she was when she had the control box. On the other hand, it was a quick way of ending the bout, and Jason lay groaning and nursing his stomach while she had a drink in a corner. 

At the same time, Jackie wanted to make progress. So she finished her drink, went over to him and pulled him up to his knees by his hair. This set him up nicely for a hammerlock. Kneeling behind him, she whipped her arms around his neck, making him gulp and gurgle. Pulling him down with her underneath, the hold evolved into a black widow.

"Stop struggling, you’ll make it worse for yourself," she told him, her arms imprisoning his neck, and her legs his stomach. "My arms are strong, aren’t they? But my legs are stronger, especially my thighs. Think yourself lucky they’re not around your neck again! 

"A woman’s second-greatest strength is in her thighs. Do you know where her greatest strength is?" she asked him, meanwhile demonstrating her second-greatest strength to immense effect, "Her brain. So where’s a man’s greatest strength? His cock, where he does all his thinking, closely followed by his arse, where he does all his talking."

The lesson seemingly over, Jackie knelt with one knee on his chest, and looked down at him, smiling. When he didn’t move or respond in any way, she took it as a sign of submission, and briefly celebrated.

But Jason’s ordeal wasn’t over yet. She pulled him up to his feet, and he obliged just by standing there with his back to her. It was like one of those moments in a Laurel & Hardy film, when they wait for their opponent to smash their car windscreen, and he then waits for them to damage his house. Oh well then, she might as well accept the invitation.   

Jackie took a jump and fired a juggernaut of a kick into the small of his back, which sent him running into the ropes, whereupon he dropped to his knees. Once he was down, she set about him mercilessly with another kick, this time to his face. 

What she did next must count as one of the most elaborate, ambitious moves in unarmed combat. Jason was no longer a serious opponent, so she had time to prepare the move. Stretching to the full, displaying her powerful yet still curvy, feminine body, she suddenly dropped down in a squat before launching herself into the air. Jason, struggling up to his knees, thought, "Now what’s she doing?"

He didn’t have long to find out. She performed a spectacular backwards somersault. Landing on her hands, she guided herself to another leap so that she would land on her feet, but more importantly straddling Jason’s neck with her thighs. True, she could probably just have waited for him to get to his knees, and then put him in a standing head scissor, but what was the point of getting into a fight with a loser like Jason if you couldn’t show off a bit?

Once again his neck was entrapped in her vice-like thighs, and the look of despair on his face said everything. Jackie crossed her legs, making his head loll. When she released him, he dropped down on the canvas, unconscious again. She made a curtsy to an imaginary audience (taking care to kneel on his neck as she did), then retired to a corner for another little drink.

She glanced over at Jason, groaning and holding his head, still sore from the pressure of her thighs and her various blows to it. 

"Waking up, are you? That’s right, good boy!" she mocked. "Come on, come to Mummy!" she finished, beckoning to him.

He sat with his back against the ropes. "No more, please, I’ve had enough," he implored her.

"Oh, all right, we’ll get my box of tricks instead," she told him sadistically.

"NO!"

Too late. Once again Jason lay in the foetal position, clutching his manhood through that twisted bit of science.

"Stand up," Jackie commanded, having turned the electricity off. "Put your hands behind your head."

Jason did as he was told. Anything was better than getting another electric shock. Or was it? Jackie’s foot slapping into his balls might argue differently. Then her other one was equally persuasive. She sent great long, merciless kicks to his balls, until he dropped down to the canvas again, moaning with the unbearable pain. 

Jackie gloated at his suffering, then retired for another sip from her bottle. Seeing Jason get up, she reached for the box and sent him down again with another little flick of the switch. 

"Kiss my foot," she ordered. He did, but she sent the startling volts to his tortured manhood, all the same. 

Well, that was fun! But it was time to go back to the house for what she had planned next. There was no harm in giving Jason another demonstration of her strength, so she bent down and picked him up over her shoulder, then proceeded, carrying her helpless, destroyed burden. 

She threw him over her shoulder, and he landed on his backside. Holding the control box, she detailed the next part of her plan:

"Now, I hate cleaning," she stated emphatically.

"So do I," he concurred.

"I don’t care, because you’re going to do it."

"What?"

"You heard. Don’t forget, all I have to do it flick this switch …"

"Okay, okay, I’ll do it."

"Yes, you will, won’t you? Now, I’ve had a tiring morning and I’m just going to have a little rest on the sofa. Don’t forget, once you’ve swept the floor you need to mop it. I want to see you on your hands and knees wiping every dirty mark off. If I’m not satisfied, you know what will happen, don’t you?

"Actually," she began, after idly watching him clean off her footprints with a cloth and soapy water, "I’m still not satisfied."

"Oh, please!" he begged her, "I’m doing my best!"

"No, I didn’t mean in that way. The thing is, fighting always turns me on. You like porn, don’t you? Well, it’s not a patch on the real thing. Come here," she concluded, guiding his head just where she wanted it, and it wasn’t long before she was shouting with pleasure. 

When this subsided, she gave him a half-kick to the chin, then dragged him by the hair into the bedroom. She instantly had him tumbling over her shoulder onto the bed. Before he could react, she had his neck trapped in her thighs again. Stretching out away from his head, she squeezed until she had knocked him out a third time. 

****

The next day followed a similar pattern. The following weekend, Jackie decided on no fighting, because she didn’t want there to be any marks on Jason for when Jenny came home on Tuesday evening. She took the box and the cage with her to make sure he cleaned properly, but she didn’t need to use them - the threat was enough to have him scurrying for the cloth and soapy water.

On the Tuesday evening, when she went to collect her money, Jenny seemed very pleased, although she had one nagging doubt.

"Did Jason give you any trouble?"

"Oh, no! He’s a very polite young man – he even offered to help! But of course, I couldn’t accept it."

"Jason? Polite? Offered to help? What’s your secret?"

Yes, well, best keep it a secret!