No Self-Control

Mixed boxing, 320 pictures 1920x1080, partially CFNM, no blood.

Celeste loved her dancing. The practice was just as enjoyable as the performances for her. She would lose herself in her work, and today in the gym was no different. As she pirouetted, tiptoed and twirled, she could hear the orchestra in an imagined background. So she was more than a little annoyed to be interrupted by some ugly young man, who came crashing into her enchanted little world. But, remembering her manners, she was pleasant enough with him, when he asked if she was Celeste.

“Yes, that’s right,” she answered, smiling. “And you are -?”

“Never mind who I am!” she snarled.

“I don’t, actually, Mr No Name,” she replied, eager to get back to her practice.

“You beat up my mate,” he told her.

“Dear me! Well, yes, I do MMA, but I don’t recall that. Was it in a match, or just sparring? And who was it?”

“Josh Adams.”

“Ah, yes! My boorish boxer uncle. Yes, I did dispatch him rather well before I moved out, I must admit. So how is the poor wounded soldier?”

“He’s given up boxing. Lost all confidence because of you. I’ve tried to tell him it was an uneven match. You tricked him into fighting naked, making him vulnerable before you’d even begun fighting …”

“True.”

“Plus, you’re 25 whereas he’s over 40. On the other hand, I’m the same age as you, I have shorts on, and I don’t feel at all vulnerable. I’m going to wipe that pretty smile of yours off your face.”

“A fight? Oh, lovely! Let’s go in the ring!”

****

“Dance your way out of this!” No Name shouted, throwing the opening punch.

“Like this?” Celeste teased, gracefully avoiding it.

“Or this?” she laughed, daintily escaping his second.

A pattern was soon established of No Name putting strength and fury into a knockout punch, and Celeste evading it with the minimum of effort. The more she smiled or laughed, as she skipped out of harm’s way, the more enraged he became. And tired. He started panting and sweating, certain that just one more punch would work. But it never did.

When Celeste cartwheeled out of the way of yet another futile punch, he over-balanced, following through. Celeste, behind him, swiftly hooked off his shorts as he was falling. Then she dropped them outside the ring.

“You and my Uncle Josh are terrible!” she mocked him, leaning back in a corner. “You can’t keep your clothes on, either of you!”

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” He shouted, striding towards her, threatening.

“Compared with you, yes.”

“You’re not though, are you? You’ve put yourself into a corner, showing off. Just where I want you! Ah, SHIT!”

Making to grab her, he had failed to notice her right foot, poised ballet-style. The ballerina’s slight foot now slapped into his balls. No Name sank to his knees, holding his wounded manhood.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Celeste taunted him, “It’s my way of rehearsing the ‘Nutcracker Suite’.” She danced beside him, just for the hell of it, until he got up, vowing retaliation.

No Name lunged with his right, but Celeste elbowed it out of the way. Then, for the first time, she struck.

“This is how a ballerina fights!” she commented, her right fist hooking his jaw.

Clever girl! She got him in exactly the same place, from his side, with a left cross. She had the satisfaction of hearing him cry out in pain, as his head recoiled from her fist. Then, swooping underneath him, she clocked him on the chin with an uppercut.

“No, no, not like that,” Celeste chastised him as his fist blundered over her shoulder, “like THIS,” she concluded, crouching underneath it, and hammering her left fist into his chest. “Where’s your footwork? Fighting’s as much about poise and balance as it is about brute force. That’s why we ladies are better at it than you men care to admit.”

She demonstrated with a second right uppercut, pivoting on the toes of her right foot, to give the punch greater purchase. As her fist met his chin, his teeth thudded together and his head rocketed backwards.

Pleased with the result, Celeste followed up with a left uppercut. She had to admit it to herself, she got a thrill out of dominating a man. There was nothing so liberating as punching a man in the face! Her broad smile said it all.

She pulled No Name towards her with her left hand and banged him in the chest with her right fist, once again catching him in the same area that she had hit previously. It was a good, solid punch, and it gave him a burning feeling in his chest. Indeed, it was his first experience of heartburn.

Celeste had slowed No Name down with her evasive tactics previously, sapping his energy; now she was wearing down his resistance with a barrage of punches. She got him on the chin for a fourth time, choosing a left cross. The pain as she hit the same injury she had struck on three previous occasions was close to being unbearable. More than that, it was a glorious full-on cross, which looked beautiful in her perfect execution of it.

Before No Name could right himself after it, Celeste got him on the chin yet again, this time with a right cross. Both man and woman were at full stretch, the man backwards, the woman forwards. There were cameras in that gym, and anyone lucky enough to watch the footage would have seen the woman’s superb body shown to its utmost advantage: the glorious womanly curves of her rear view in the foreground, as her opponent fell into the background.

And fall he did, onto one knee. It was the most dangerous position to be in with Celeste in her present mood. She just helped herself to the inviting target of No Name’s face. She swept her left fist round in an arc, crunching into his jaw, and he went down like a skittle.

He was on his back, and it felt as if he was fighting for survival. For her part, Celeste showed a sadistic streak. She held him in place with her left hand, while threatening him with her right fist. A part of him thought, “Just hit me and get it over with”. But no, she wanted to keep him in suspense for a little while, smiling over him, enjoying the game.

At last she let him have it, right in the eye, which swelled up and went black. Then it was back to more cat-and-mouse stuff. She tormented him with the same fist again, before kneeling on his throat (conveniently forgetting formal rules for the time being) and brandishing her left fist above him. Then she knelt over his mid-section and menaced him with her right fist.

Celeste’s final tease took things to a new level. She knelt down, straddling him, and sat on his cock. While her wondrous buttocks revived the only place, and in the only way, possible, she gripped his left ear and waved her left fist above him. Then it was the turn of his right ear, and her fist clanged into it, bringing the suspense to an end. His hearing had a faraway, dreamlike quality to it for the rest of the fight.

If, that is, this part of the episode could actually called a fight. It was more of a one-sided beating, with plenty of sexual dominance thrown in. She set about her task(s) professionally and mercilessly, punching his face and bringing him to full erection. Having damaged his right ear, she now assaulted his left, and his head swung violently to its right. A left hook now sent it in the other direction, like an out-of-control pendulum. All the while, with the thump of her fists, her buttocks swung, clenched and relaxed around his cock.

Satisfied with the work of her fists and bottom, she stood up and punt kicked him in the stomach. Then she added further pain to his left ear by pulling him up to a sitting position, before forcing him to his knees.

“I could quite happily be a dominatrix, you know,” she told him, pulling him by the ears against her sex. “Some men pay a lot of money for what you’re getting!”

She had worked them both against the ropes, and she now sat on both the middle rope and his shoulders. No Name still knelt on the mat (as if he had any choice) and Celeste kept herself in place by continuing to hold his face against her intimately, after she had jammed his neck outside the middle rope.

But time was getting on, and she was due at the hairdressers before long. Reluctantly she ended her enjoyment, stood him up, and kicked him in the balls from behind. He collapsed clutching his balls, and she walked to the middle of the ring. She did a victory dance, just to compound his humiliation.

It was too much for No Name. This posh bitch had exposed him, outfought him, insulted and embarrassed him, and how she was revelling in it! Seeing she faced away from him, he ran at her, desperate for revenge – but was stopped short by her left foot. Swivelling swiftly on her right foot, she super kicked him on the jaw. He staggered, while she spun round to finish the job.

A brisk, right-left combination stunned him. He was there in the middle of the ring, a defenceless target. So she helped herself to a second combination - this time of a left uppercut to the chin, and a right knee to the balls.

No Name collapsed on his back, and Celeste stood over him in a victory pose, placing her foot on his erection. What with the work of her buttocks earlier, the indignity of defeat to a woman, and her ballerina’s trim boot on his cock, it was too much to contain, and he shuddered into a “defeat orgasm”.

“Dear me!” Celeste commented, “Some people have no self-control.”