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Old 22-Sep-17, 05:01
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Trophy Oxana's Castle

greetings. this is not my original work. its just a damn good story I figured I would share & hopefully some of you enjoy it. author goes by the name nitesprite, I believe I acquired it from a yahoo group 10 - 15 years ago. without further ado.....


Oxana's castle

Another nitesprite joint

It being the off season, he was the only visitor staying in the hostel. With the snows gone the people went to, and the little village of shops and cafe's was shown to be the false, manufactured thing it was. No one really lived here, it was only a-bustle when the tourist season was on. As the storm battered the mountain, making the whole building rattle and groan, it was easy to believe they were the only people for miles.
'They' were him, and her. She was seemingly the lone member of staff in charge of the place, at least once the cleaners had finished their work and headed back down the mountain to real towns where people really lived. He couldn't believe they let her run this place alone, looking like she did. When he'd first walked in, having battled his way through the harsh elements outside, he'd seen her and for a moment felt he'd lost the power of speech.
She had brown hair, cut in a sophisticated, but slightly tomboyish chin length bob. It framed her face like some kind of brunette helmet. She had un-natural eyes, amber in color, he'd never seen that before, and they were big, innocent, but somehow mischeivious, maybe even a little sinister. She had a slightly mysterious east-european accent that added to her minxy image, and clashed with the golden tan colour of her body (he suspected this was the produce of a sun-bed, the snows were gone from the mountain, but summer hadn't really come to it's slopes yet). It might be russian, but he didn't want to risk making such a guess. Guessing wrong might offend her, it would be like someone asking if he was american. In his fantasises though, that accent could work in all manner of roles, the secretive Transyvanian Countess, the KGB operative, the fugitive rocket-scientist. The mouth this accent came out of was small, and seemed eternally pouty, even when she smiled, which was often. She was, he guessed, mid twenties.
She was perhaps a little shorter than average, but you couldn't call her petite, she wasn't delicate enough to be covered by that description. Her body had the kind of powerful compactness to it that you associated with outdoorsy tomboy types, hiking and hockey and brown bread, and farmers daughters. You could tell she spent a lot of time in the gym.
The thing you really noticed about her though, the thing that (literally) stood out above all this, due as much to how she dressed as anything else, was her spectacular bustline. For all her compactness in other regards, in that one aspect she was a big girl.
The cold climate meant they built well here, and so the hostel was plenty warm enough to allow her to wander around in crop-top t-shirts and shorts made from old jeans where the legs had been cut away. Her toned, soft-muscled body curved and bulged mesmerisingly from this inadequate coverage, and a couple of times, when she'd been wearing a t-shirt so truncated that the undersides of two soft, tanned mounds were clearly visible peaking out from under it, he'd felt particularly light-headed and had needed to go for a lie down. The idea that this walking temptation was halfway up the mountain running this place on her own, when you never knew who might walk in from the cold, struck him as insane. These days you can't put such trust in people. He wasn't sure he'd even put such trust in himself. So far he was pleased to find that, by and large, he could.
Oh, she had a name too, Oxana.
He guessed that was what had kept him here, her. This had been supposed to be a stop-off point. Somewhere to eat, sleep, and then move on from. Yet this was his forth day here. There was the very good gym here of course, so it was a chance to get some work in, and lessen the gap in his regime. There was also the simple pleasure of slobbing out for a bit, and doing nothing but reading books. Travel is always a bit of an ongoing battle, it's nice to drop out for a bit. But really, it was mostly about the long conversations about everything and nothing, the flirting, and the staring when she wasn't looking, as he tried to memorize every curve of her.
The gym though, the gym was a surprise. The hostel had a gym and a pool, and the gym was very well furnished. He couldn't remember when he'd stayed in a place so well equipped. He spent quite a bit of time in the gym then, especially when she was likely to be in there too. Her gym outfits were heartstopping. Some of the exercises she did were eyepopping. He had to admit as well, some of the exercises he'd seen her doing had earned his slightly grudging admiration. She was an intimidatingly fit young lady, with the kind of suppleness that you could only get if you started flexiblity exercises very young. He had a secret theory that there was something of a private tragedy there. Quite a few of the exercises he'd seen her doing were things that a dancer girlfriend of his used to do. Perhaps she'd had a childhood dream of being a ballerina, but adolescence had played a cruel prank on her when she'd suddenly developed those bazooka's. He could imagine it would be difficult to make it as a ballerina when you had those bouncing around in front of you all the time.
Not that she seemed to resent them now. He put more effort into pounding the bag before him, making it sway wide and the ceiling fixture that supported it squeak dangerously. When the bag swayed back, he got a clear view of her going through her own workout. Despite the freezing gale howling around the building, she was wearing the kind of outfit that he'd only ever seen in certain dance music video's. It seemed to be the remains of a leotard that had been too small for her to start with, but which had then had chunks cut away repeatedly, until all that was left was the bare minimum required for her to be able to claim she was wearing something. Other than that, a head band, and a pair of those ankle-warmer things that he'd thought went out in the previous century, she wasn't wearing a thing. Oh, except for the gloves.
From the moment she'd stalked barefoot into the gym, he'd been desperately trying to impress her with the power he could generate punching the bag. His desire to exhibit himself as a prize specimen of masculinity was due in part to his decision that it was about time he made a move on her. She was somewhat younger than he, which intimidated him a little, but he figured it was time to make the play, or move on. He couldn't leave this place without trying, even if he got a slap for his efforts. He was going to show off a bit in the gym, and then, as soon as an oppertunity presented itself...
He wasn't sure how his display was being received though. After doing the usual mesmerising stretching exercises she'd produced a jump-rope from her sports bag, and commenced speed-skipping for a solid ten minutes (and bounce.. and bounce.. and bounce.. and bounce..). He'd felt dizzy by the end of that, and there was a roaring in his ears. Then she'd done something that had rather thrown him. She'd returned the jump-rope to the sports bag, and produced from it's depths two hot-pink boxing gloves with the words 'Girl Power' emblazoned on them in white. She'd then walked to one of the other punch bags in the room, and started beating all hell out of it.
Was this good? From what he'd read about body language 'mirroring' was a good sign. So, was she 'mirroring' him, in emulating his work-out like this? Or was she showing that she was un-impressed, that she could do this just as well as he. She couldn't generate the power he could, he was pleased to see, not even close. His heavy bag was straining against it's ceiling fixture when he punched it, hers just swayed back and forth, rocked by her efforts, but not threatening to come unanchored. However, for all his power, she was making him feel kind of dumb. His technique consisted of the three basic boxing blows, straight, hook, uppercut. She had a much larger repertoire, battering her bag with fists, feet, knees and elbows, and once or twice with enthusastic head-butts. Her strikes sounded focused, sharp and penetrating, making his sound dull and sledgehammer-like. And when she struck the bag, she blurred, pink fists and long legs striking repeatedly in a symphony of impacts, like a string of chinese firecrackers going off.
"THUD!!" he'd go, and the supporting chain would complain.
"Paf paf paf p-p-p-PAF!" she'd reply in counterpoint.
"THUD!!".
"P-p-paf p-pa-pa-paf! paf! paf! Paf! PAF!".
He continued to try and analyze this turn of events. Maybe it was nothing special. She had the gloves, so she clearly worked out like this regularly, it could just be a co-incidence that she chose to do so now. Now that he thought of it, he had seen her doing various martial-artsy stuff in the past. On the other hand though, her setting herself up in competition with him like this could be taken as kind of a 'come-on'.
"So, you box?".
He'd been so deep in thought that he'd not noticed that call of his fists striking the bag wasn't getting a response anymore from her side. "Uh.." he said. Wasn't there something clever he was supposed to say at this point? He couldn't think of it now. Those eyes are kind of luminous, their light chases the shadow of thought out of ones head. Hey! That's a good line! I must remember that. "Oh, you know, a bit" he said "I guess I'm getting a bit old for it now". Damn. Stop that. Say stupid stuff like that and you'll get no-where.
"You seem young enough to me" she said, an elegant eyebrow quirking to suggest an underlying agenda to these words.
This is good. Don't blow it. "Well, yes, of course. I just meant..".
"You're pretty strong aren't you?". Her pink tounge flickered over white teeth, sliding quickly between parted lips.
"Uh.." Say something. Say something. "Well, I like to keep in shape".
"Oh yes. I can see that".
"I umm.. I see you do too?".
"Oh, I've always been very competitive. I like to keep fighting fit". She put a heavy emphasis on the f's in the last two words.
"Uh, you do martial arts?".
"Kickboxing mostly, some other stuff. Tai chi, as a flexiblity exercise, though my teacher does some martial stuff. I kickbox competitively every once in a while".
"Competitively?".
"Yeah, you know. These days a girl can get a bout if she wants. I win 'em too, mostly. Though I got mercilessly crushed by a sweet young thing from the next village a while back. Well, you can't win 'em all. I'll get even with her though. I always do. Hey, come on, I'll show you one of this places many surprises".
Retreiving keys from her sports bag, she led him to a large side-door that had always been locked. He stole surrupticious glances at her bare buttocks bulging out of the scandalous 'leotard' as she walked before him. Was she swishing her ass about like that on purpose? Or was that just how she walked?
The door led to a side-room. It's contents were indeed a surprise. It contained a smallish boxing ring.
"During the high season this place does anything it can to pull 'em in. Out here in the wilds, there's lots of things that no-one provides, so we do. There's alsorts in this little complex, this for instance" she explained.
"Uh.. wow.. does it really get much use?".
"Oh yes. One way or another. There are quite a number of people and groups who put it to good use. Why don't we?".
"We?".
"Yeah. Come on. Let's spar a little hmm?" she giggled playfully.
But.. but.. but. He'd only sparred with people he knew well in the past, that way there was trust, there were no hard feelings. He'd never sparred with a woman. What if he hurt her? What if that ridiculous costume of hers came apart? Oh yes.. what if that happened. Maybe she just wanted to playfight as foreplay. How could he turn that down? He had to admit, the idea of trading punches with a sexy package like her was a big turn on.
"Uh.. well.." he said, non-commitally.
"Oh come on. Not scared are you?".
He laughed, felt like he was blushing. "No" he said with good humor, "Not sooo much".
"Well then?".
"Well, are you dressed for it? That costume looks pretty flimsy, if you don't mind me saying so?".
"No, it's not really suitable for combat, is it?" Oxana agreed, looking down at where her knockers stretched the sparse lycra to breaking point. "I think there's only one kind of costume appropriate for the battle of the sexes, don't you?". She turned her back to him, hooked her thumbs into the shoulder straps of the leotard, pulled it down, and stepped out of it. Keeping her back to him, she walked to the ring, near which her sports bag waited. He stared at a butterfly tattoo that fluttered in the small of her back, above and between two round, firm curves of muscle. She reached into the bag, and pulled out a package, from which she took a translucent gumshield, and the hot-pink gloves. She clambered up into the ring, wriggled her hands into the gloves, and sashayed to the far side, keeping her back to him the whole time. "There's a clean gumshield and a pair of gloves in my bag" she informed him, over a shapely shoulder, standing there in only her hot-pink 'girl power' boxing gloves and the matching ankle-warmers.
He got the message, if he wanted to see the front, he had to get into the ring.
He was out of his clothes, and into the gloves and the ring at a scramble.
Seeing he'd joined her in the arena, she turned to hit him with the full force of her nakedness. It's often the case that people don't look as good naked as you thought they would when you saw them clothed. Having undressed someone in your head, you often find the reality comes up short. But this was not the case with Oxana. If anything her body was more spectacular than he'd dared believe was possible. She lounged against the ropes, brazenly displaying herself to him. She was curvacous to the extreme, her body a sculpture of muscle sheathed in a soft layer feminine flesh. Her tanned legs weren't as long as some womens, but they had the kind of definition and shapeliness that only came with work. Neither too thin, nor too muscled, they were goldilocks legs, just right, powerfull without being unfeminine, made for movement, for running and dancing. Between them a dark thatch of hair crowned her sex. Her curving abdomen was divided by the well defined, soft line, like a long brush-stroke, to either side of which just the hint of abodominal musculature was visible. She wore a diamante belly-button ornament, a little cascade of glass beads strung in a tiny chanderlier effect. It must have provided a delightful tickle against her lower belly. Her knockers were big and round and firm as golden melons, he couldn't believe they were entirely natural, though he could see no tell-tale scars on their flawless round surfaces. The amber eyes regarded him amusedly from beneath brown bangs, the small red mouth twisted at one corner in a sly, suggestive half smile.
The sight made his balls ache like she'd punched him there. Whether or not he was ready to engage this beautiful challenger in battle, his cock certainally was, ramrod straight and aching for a chance to show her hot body who was boss. He stood and stared greedily. Consuming the visual feast of her. Frankly, to do otherwise would have been impolite. Eventually he managed to croak "Uh.. what's the rules?".
She giggled at this silly question "Why, last one standing wins, of course".
"What about rounds and stuff?".
"Oh, why do you have to complicate it? I like to keep it basic, primal. We fight until one can fight no more".
"But.. um.. someone might get hurt" he protested, feeling he should make some effort to be galant and consider her well-being.
"That's rather the whole idea, isn't it?" she asked, sliding off the ropes and advancing torwards him, huge breasts bouncing as she moved.
"I thought you just wanted to spar a bit?".
"Oh, I like to spar hard, don't you?" she asked innocently.
"I'm just worried about hurting you".
"Well, don't be. I can take a beating. The question is, are you man enough to give it to me? I've met few who are. That's why the prize for victory is so grand".
"Prize?".
"Yes, of course. It wouldn't be sporting of me not to offer a prize for the winner, would it? Now, what prize could be suitable for the victor in the battle of the sexes, hmm? What is there that I, championing the female could award you, the representative of masculinity, if you can conquer me? There's really only one thing appropriate, isn't there? If you can vanquish me, if you can defeat this body that I work so hard to keep fffffighting ffffit, then it's your prize. I'm your prize. I'll be helpless, and we're alone up here on this cold, windy mountain. You'll be able to do anything you want to me, I'll be powerless to resist. You just have to best me, demolish my defences, break my spirit. Think you can do that?".She glanced down appraisingly, and seemed pleased by what she saw. "I can see you want to".
After a moments hesitation, he finally set his worries aside. She wanted it, didn't that make it alright? "I'd be crazy not to try" he declared.
"Oh, a lot have tried" she purred, raising her gloves and moving closer with a sinuous cross-step "and I destroyed them, just like I'm gonna destroy you, tough guy".
"You and who's army?" he asked, deciding he should get into the spirit of the game, and raising his own gloves to meet her. He could see from the grin on her face that she liked that.
She launched straight into the attack, jabbing out with impressive swiftness, the pink gloves becoming blurs, and when they impacted against his guard, striking against his forearms and biceps, he was suprised at the force of the connection. She could really dance around, she seemed to have springs in her legs. He'd expected those big tits of hers would be an encumberance, but she didn't seem to have any trouble with them, though they were always the last part of her to stop moving. They were in perpetual motion as she floated on the balls of her feet, jabbing at his guard, changing position and line of attack. Her big amber eyes blazed above her upheld gloves, and when a pink glove broke away to make an attack, he saw she wore a charmingly manic grin. She was enjoying herself.
Well, he was enjoying it too. He took a big swipe at her head, pulling the force of the punch a little, still unsure how much this was play, and how much it was a real contest. She wove gracefully under the big hooking punch, her grinning face seeming to teleport from within the arc of the blow, to outside of it.
Everything was briefly bright pink.
He couldn't stop himself from letting out a cry of surprise. He pulled his arm back swiftly into a guard. His right eye stung, and there was protestation from the surrounding parts of his face on that side. Well, he had his answer, this wasn't play, or at least, if it was, it was hard play. The minx could hit. Well, he'd taken much worse, she had good technique, but she wasn't as strong as the guys he generally sparred with. Let's see how well she took it when he scored one on her pretty face.
"First point to the girls I think" she grinned gloatingly from behind her gloves.
He grinned back, this was fun, even if his face stung. It'd be even more fun when he had that lovely body draped over the ropes and was working her over mercilessly. His head was full of hot images of what that would be like, her begging, offering herself to him, calling him 'master'. He wouldn't hurt her face, of course, that would be a crime, but that bellydancers abdomen, and those gigatic, firm boobs, they'd be black and blue for months.
"You got lucky, girly" he growled, feeling he had a role to play and playing it to his best. Her grin widened at that, he could see she was pleased with his newly threatening persona. Well, if she wanted him to wipe that pretty grin off her face, he'd do it, and he'd enjoy it too, why not?
He decided to take the lead, snapping out two jabs and swinging a hook. Her grin didn't diminish as she put he gloves up to catch the jabs, and wove dramatically under the hook, moving from her hips in a big circling motion. At the lowest point of the circle, she thrust out a pink glove and landed a punch into his abdomen.
"OOOOOFFFF!!" he commented, overacting a bit. Oh, it had hurt alright, he was surprised again at the power her compact frame could generate, but he'd taken harder punches in the guts than that. However, he figured she'd like the sound effects, and he could see from the big grin and the twinkle in the amber eyes that he was right. Well, she had scored another point, it was only sporting to let her have her little triumphs, for as long as they lasted.
He launched another round of jabs, but none of them contacted. It was a little frustrating he had to admit. He couldn't get his arms to move as fast as hers, somehow just didn't know how to launch them so fast that his gloves blurred, like she could. Probably that was the downside of his greater power. Another complaint was that he kept tending to use the same patterns of punches, jab-jab, big hook or jab left, jab right, jab left. He'd never noticed that before, but she had straight away, and had shown it too him in the way that she'd react after the first two moves, to ensure she was no-where near the target area of the next move. Still, he realised, frustrating though it was, it could work to his advantage too.
Jab-jab. She reacted instantly, weaving away from the target area of the follow-up hook, bending low to pass under it, rising on the other side, ready to strike, like a grinning cobra.
JAB! It landed just to one side of her pretty mouth, and boy did she look surprised. She let out a delicously sexy cry of surprise and pain, and staggered a little back from the impact. That'll teach her to think he was so predictable. He pursued, aiming to follow up and start the ball rolling on her demolition and conquest.
Paf! He walked right into it, a pink glove straight in the face. Paf! Paf! PAF! Three more impacts landed with as speed he could hardly believe, they'd landed squarely before he had any chance to duck and cover, jarring his head back repeatedly, and making him take an instinctive backward step. SSPAFFF!! The last one was much more powerfull than the others, more of a straight power-punch than a jab. It caught him just in mid step, and his balance was out. He felt a release of pressure in his nose, and then his footing went out from under him, and he was sailing through space. His one consolation was that he brokefall automatically as he hit the mat, it was still a heavy impact though.
He lay there for a couple of moments, surprised, a little winded. There was a soft pressure on his chest. He looked and saw a small, shapely foot resting there,toenails painted the same hot pink as the ankle-warmer that hung around the lower shin. He followed the line of her well formed leg up, pausing to stare at her naked womanhood while his cock twitched, then running his gaze up, over her toned belly, those big breasts, to the sweet face gazing down imperiously at him. She stood with her pink boxing gloves resting on her hips, big chest thrust out, looking proudly victorious. A shudder ran through him, making him gasp, the muscles around his cock tautened, making it stand perpendicular from him. He realised this situation excited him almost unbareably. The idea of being beaten by this hot, sexy little madam, of lying conquered at her feet, was a big turn on. Still, the idea of beating her, of having her limp and helpless, and naked in his arms, at his mercy, that excited him even more.
"First blood to the female's champion too I think?" she asked haughtily. It was true, she'd bloodied his nose. Crimson was trickling down his chin. "I'll be standing over you like this at the end, you know that, don't you?" she asked, then stepped off him and strode to the opposite side of the ring, swinging her tight little rear at him as she went.
He got up, telling himself "no more Mr Nice Guy". She came off the ropes to meet him in the center of the ring. She was dancing around him once more, weaving, jabbing, seeking a flaw in his defence. He played a more stationary, waiting game, thinking that sooner or later she'd tire herself out with all this jumping around. His eyes tracked the huge bouncing tits, his cock twitching in response to their bounce, seeming to swell and become yet stiffer and more aching by the second. Her nipples stood proudly erect in testament to her own arousal. They were both breathing hard, panting, not just from the physical exertion of the fight. They were jabbing at each others guard once more. He swung a devestating hook. She ducked easily under it, planting two swift punches in his belly as she did so, one-two! He grunted with each impact, but otherwise seemed to ignore the blows, no playacting for her entertainment now, he was gunning for some revenge.
He tried to seize the inititive by brute force, he could take what she could dish out, but once he got one good punch in, things would be different. He swung with his left, she ducked under it, punched his guts, and stood back up once his punch had passed to land a hook of her own that drove into his cheek, swiping hard across his face, blood smearing across the pink boxing glove. He swung with his right, even as her punch was smacking his head to one side, hoping to catch her unawares with this swift follow-up, but she was ducking again, again there was a burst of pain in his belly, and now his head was whipped back the other way. He jabbed, jabbed again, saw a twitch in her arm that he was sure meant she was going to punch, and drove in a devastating straight that should have caught her in mid punch, except she'd chosen to duck, rather than punch, and it passed over her as she buried another pink punch in his six-pack, and then came upwards in what was almost a leap, driving her other boxing-glove upwards with all the power her compact body could generate. The uppercut smashed into his jaw, drove his teeth painfully together despite the gum-shield he was wearing. It rocked him back, and before he had recovered Paf! Paf! PAFFF! He took two jabs and a powerful straight right in the face.
His nose hurt now, if it wasn't broken, it would be soon at this rate. Well, that was a price he was prepared to pay to win his prize. He had a brainwave, he'd turn her own trickery on her. He jabbed, jabbed again, ducked and wove as she came back with a riposte. He was pleased to see he could play the avoiding game too, as a hook of hers sailed over his head. Okay, so he took the uppercut that completed the combo on the jaw, but he'd dodged the jab-hook. Two out of three aint bad. Somehow though, he'd not been able to score one to her trim, taut belly as he'd ducked. Shame, he really wanted to score a few hits there.
He did one of his standard jab-jab hooks. Let her think he was so predictable, that was just what he wanted. Unexpectedly he found himself kissing pink glove as she scored again, a good straight punch right in his mouth. He'd not even seen it coming. She seemed to be getting better, faster, harder to predict. Perhaps he was thinking too much about what it would be like to plant a fist in that sexy belly. Perhaps she was just committing herself more, doing better because she was taking greater risks. That could be her undoing.
He pursued her doggedly, playing the role of the lumbering dumb male. He tried a few more obviously predictable techniques, letting her score hits off these 'mistakes'. She was loving it, the amber eyes sparkled like her diamante belly ornament, and she squealed with joy when she landed a punch, face alight with enjoyment. She really was beautiful when she smiled with that small, pouty mouth of hers. He wanted to plant his own mouth on those rouged lips, wanted it bad.
He threw another overenthusiastic power-punch at where she had just been, and grunted a little louder that previously as he felt the impact in his belly. It made him hunch forwards a little, setting him up for a sweet uppercut that had him staggering. He could hear her giggling with enjoyment, a very musical sound. PAFF! A pink-clad fist smacked his head to one side, and he heard her count "One!". PAFF! His head was thrown the other way to the count of "Two!". Then she said "Thre..OOOOOUUGGHHFFF!!".
The sexy sound she made sent a thrill of pleasure through his body, all the muscles around his cock tautening and holding like that for a couple of seconds as she folded around his black boxing glove planted deep in her pretty tummy. Her head came down and forwards so that her cheek rested against the bluging bicep of his punching arm, her breath sighing over his skin. "One" he breathed into her ear, as he removed his fist from her belly and stepped back. She took a shuddering, gasping, pain-filled breath, her pink-clad hands came down to clasp the impact point. For a moment she was stood like that, bent a little forwards so that her chin was presented as his next target, huge boobs hanging free off her chest, pink boxing gloves holding her punched mid-riff, eyes closed, mouth open in a pouting gasp, brows pulled in and up in a suffering expression. He couldn't think of anything he'd ever seen that was so sexy. The image was instantly burned into his memory, he'd never forget it. His cock throbbed painfully.
He sent a fist up into her proffered, small, rounded chin, standing her upright. He said "Two", she said "Nnnuufff!!", a little sound midway between a cry and a grunt. "Three", he sent a hook crashing into the side of her face, and she span right around. When she faced him, her eyes were open, but seemed sightless and a little crosseyed, and she staggered, unable to stay balanced. He chuckled darkly and said "Four" as he sent his other fist into the opposite golden cheek. This would be the end of it. Shame, he'd wanted to make her last, to work her over for a while, but you couldn't have everything. The hook span her right around once more, back the way she'd come. It was cool the way he could make her pirouette like that, kinda pretty. No doubt at the end of this twirl she'd fall limply into his waiting arms... and then.. and then..
Her rotation was what was powering the leg that arced in a gracefull circle into the side of his head, continuing through and down. Her heel smashed into his cheek with tooth-loosening force, and drove onwards. He didn't so much fall to the floor, as was driven into it. He landed flat on his face. Hard. Very hard. Pain shot up his nose. His breath wooofed loudly out of him.
He lay there for a while, trying to collect his scattered wits. He could see a spreading pool of red before him. His nosebleed was worse. He felt a soft pressure on his back, her foot.
"Awww.. what a disappointment" she purred "you were doing so well. I was thinking I'd finally met my match. Finally met my conqueror". She emitted a theatrical sigh "but no, here you lie, under my foot in a spreading pool of blood".
"You.. didn't say.. kicks were allowed" he panted, his voice sounding odd in his head.
"I told you I was a kickboxer, and I seem to recall I said there were no rules" she reminded him "Methinks the gentleman doth protest too much".
She stepped off him, stalked up the ring, her firm round arse switching from side to side as she went. "Still, you landed some good ones on me there. Especially the belly-punch. She turned to face him, lounging against the ropes once more, displaying her naked body proudly and enticingly to him. "I bet you enjoyed that, didn't you? Punching my belly? Well, why don't you come and give me some more, hmmm? Imagine what it would be like. Imagine having me hung over the ropes, and punching my belly over and over and over and over. There's no-one on this mountain to come and save me, nothing to stop you. I'd be begging for mercy. I'd do anything, *anything* you demanded. Can you imagine what that would be like?".
He could. In fact, he could imagine or think of little else.
"Maybe it would be a bit like this" she said, "Oh! Oh!! Ohhh! Uh! Uh!! Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!".
He watched mesmerised as she acted out a belly beating being given her by some invisible, mighty opponent. "Oughh! Ohhh! Ugh! Ugh! Please.. Ugh! Uhh! Urrgg! No more.. Ugh! Uh!Uh!Uh! Ouuurrgghh!". The ropes creaked as she was bounced against them by the imaginary blows. "Ouff! Uurggh! Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh!.. mercy.. Urrrrgh!!.. you win.. Ooooo-uh!! I give.. Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!! Please.. I beg.. OOOORRG! URRGH!! Oh! My belly.. URRGG!! my belly..". She slid off the ropes, pink boxing gloves clasping her stomach once more, wearing a theatrically sexy expression of agony, and sank to her knees. He watched the little role-play from where he lay, wondering how he was managing not to cum, he certainally felt like it could happen any moment.
"Uh.. oh god.. he's too strong" she gasped, holding her tummy and hanging her head. "Uh.. uh.. I'm beaten.. uh.. can't take any more.. uh.. uh.. must.. surrender.. must show him.. oh..it hurts.. must show him I accept.. uh.. accept defeat. How can I show him.. uh.. show him I submit? There's only one way". She raised her face, and pouted her lips, kissing empty space. His imagination instantly painted himself in there, standing triumphantly over her, his achingly stiff cock occupying the empty space those red lips touched. She planted kiss after kiss on her conquerors imagined manhood, and then her pink tounge came out, lapping and sliding up and down the invisible shaft. When finally she shaped her lips into a large 'O' as though encircling something unseen in them, he shuddered and let out a groan of longing.
She got up, and taunted him "Come on, come and do that to me. Come and make me worship you like that".
He lifted himself up onto all fours. Blood dripped onto the floor before him. His head was still ringing a little from that spinning crescent kick she'd hit him with. He took his time getting to his feet. He still felt a little wobbly as he closed on her, but that would pass. That would pass.
He advanced on her, throwing swift jabs and feints. Let's see how she fared when he closed her down in this little ring, robbed her of space to dance out of the path of his blows. He jabbed at her sweet features, making her dodge and weave. She seemed to realise she was in trouble, and increased her work rate, pink gloves launching a fusilade of blows that he absorbed on his muscled arms, throwing a shoulder or a forearm between his head and the incoming punch. Twice he nearly had her backed onto the ropes, but she managed to dodge out through a gap in his offence. The third time she tried it, he had a surprise for her. She ducked, wove, and came back up right where he was expecting her. His left boxing glove flew up, finding a path under and behind her guard, and impacted hard onto a big, firm mound of soft flesh. She let out a delightful squeal, eyes wide with shock as her big left knocker was lifted upwards by the follow-through of his punch. His other fist scored a similar direct hit on her other big, bare tit, making her cry out, clearly hurt. Her guard weakened further, as she crossed har arms over her hurt boobs, and he was grinning ferociously as he scored just the kind of hit into her shapely belly that she'd challenged him to achieve.
"UUrrgghh!" she protested, eyes hurt and disbelieving. He chuckled again, and put his other fist into the same target. "OOOUUURRRGGGHHH!" she groaned loudly, and folded around the blow. He flipped her back to vertical with an uppercut to her jaw. Her arms swang away from her body and she was wide open. He swung both his fists out, then up and in. The point where they were destined to come together, was occupied by her huge bare tits.
"NNAAAAAIIII!!" she screamed in pain as her knockers were lifted and pressed together, trapped between the twin blows. Her hot-pink boxing gloves each flew up to clasp a big boob, and she gasped something in a language as dark and rich as black bread. Now it was his turn to enjoy himself. Clasping her aching knockers like that, she was helpless, having neither a guard, nor her fists free to punch. He swang in for the finish.
The kick was beautiful, once more she showed she'd had a dancers training. It came straight up between them. In style, it seemed to owe more to the podium of an Ibiza club night than to martial arts training, but as the ball of her foot slammed into his jaw, he could testify to it's effectiveness. It threw his head back, and he was literally on the back foot. Still clasping her tits, Oxana kicked with her other leg, knocking his head back again. Then the first leg struck once more, and he staggered away from the punishment. She pursued, kicking into his belly first with her left leg, then her right, then left, then right, each impact extracting a loud grunt of complaint from him. He hunched forward into a boxing guard, gloves over his face, forearms protecting his body. The guard was no defence though, as she twirled on one leg, and bought an axe-kick down across the back of his neck, smashing him down onto his hands and knees.
There was a powerful impact on his left side, it knocked him over onto his back. He saw her looking down at him with a cruel smile, pink boxing gloves still clasped over her tits. The soft pressure was back on his chest once more. "Nice try" she told him "better luck next time".
She let him up. It took him longer than he would have expected to find his feet.That axe kick had rattled his brains. He raised his guard once more, and advanced towards her.
She bounced forwards and her left leg flew up and out in a gracefull arc. A small foot landed squarly in his balls. The impact wasn't hard, it was a snapping kick, and she seemed to have pulled much of the power out of it, but it was more than enough to bring his guard down. He emitted a roar of protest, clasping his groin with both boxing gloved hands and hunching forwards.
She took advantage of his discomfort immediately, stepping up and swinging hook punches into the sides of his head, smacking it left, then right, then left again, right again, once more left, and back to the right, laughing as she did so. One of her poidium dancers high kicks stood him upright, then she scored with another one, it's impact making his vision go blurry.
He staggered back, arms swinging out to re-caputure his balance. She bounced in on the balls of her feet and landed three swift punches into his muscular abdomen. Dazed as he was, his muscles were slack, and the punches penetrated, hurting him. "Orffff! Urgghh! Ouughhh!" he groaned under the impacts, and then a powerful punch, swinging down and then up so that it drove up into his abdominal wall as an upper cut made him groan loudest of all 'OOOOUUGGHH!!". He started to fold up around the pink boxing glove in his belly. As his head came down, she stepped in, tilted her hips, and powered a leg out and upwards, screaming "HAAII!" viciously as she did so. Pivoting on the heel of her standing foot, legs open like a set of compasses, her naked womanhood wonderfully displayed, she drove from her hips, powering the thrust kick from her core muscles. Her heel rammed up into his descending jaw, standing him back upwards, and then powering through to flip him backwards and off his feet.
He landed flat on his back again, though poorly this time, not breakfalling and hitting the ground with bruising force. His busty, naked, gorgeous opponent walked over and placed a dainty foot on his chest once more. He felt a pulse to arousal thrill through his body once more as he stared up at her nakedness. "Low.. blow" he protested, struggling to assemble the words.
"I did warn you, no rules. Anyway, you didn't hesitate to punch my tits. I'll agree to lay off your balls, if you agree not to use my big, bare, bouncy boobs as speedballs".
When she put it like that, he knew he wasn't going to give up the chance to work her magnificent bust over, no matter what the consequences of the decision. He could still turn the fight around, she could still be his helpless plaything. If he did manage to gain the upper hand, he was determined to be cruel. He wanted to punish her most vulnerable parts. He imagined what it would be like to do just what she'd said, to have her hung over the ropes, crying and begging while he pummelled her huge breasts, bouncing them up and down with cruel punches. Just thinking of it made him shudder and go 'Uh!'.
He clambered to his feet once more. She waited for him. When he was up he put up his gloves again. "Ready?" she asked him, her voice tinged with mockery.
"Come and get it" he told her, finding his voice a little slurred.
The practically lept forwards, landing lightly to one side of him. He swung a blow in that direction, but she was already weaving low, scoring a punch into his bruised six pack abs once more. "Urrrgghh!" he groaned, her punches seemed to be getting stronger. She rocketed up from the weave, and hit him with an uppercut "PAFF!!". The chorus-girl high-kick followed, making his ears ring. She stepped forwards and kneed him viciously in the balls. "OOORRRRGGGH!! Bitch!" her complained. "PAFFF!! PAFF!! PAFF!! PAFF!!!" the hooks were well delivered, slamming into his cheeks, making him stagger left and right. As though to keep him steady she grasped the back of his head with her pink gloved hands and yanked him forwards onto a powerfull knee in the belly. "Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!" she held him there and repeatedly put knee's into his abs. When she released him all he did was stand there as she twirled and smashed a heel across his face once more.
He hit the canvas on his side, blood spraying from his mouth now. She placed a foot on his upper side, and pushed to roll him over onto his back, so she could place her foot on his chest once more. She struck a victory pose, arms held out with a ninety degree bend to show off the well-defined biceps that were normally hidden under her feminine curves, her glorious bust thrust out. Once more he felt the erotic thrill of lying conquered under her shapely foot. The view from where he lay was breathtaking as she arched her back and proudly thrust out her magnificent bosom, posing in victory for an imaginary audience that would surely by chanting her name. He shuddered as he lay there, staring up in frank disbelief that a body like hers could exist outside of hot fantasy, his arousal shaking his body like the warning pre-shocks of a great eruption. His desperate need to fuck this sexy, arrogant little madam was the only thought left in his punch-drunk head. His aching cock twitched violently, a droplet of cloudly-clear fluid leaking from the tip to slide down the shaft.
"Surely you're not going to let me crush you so easily?" she asked mockingly. "This is the battle of the sexes, and you're the champion of maleness. You're letting the side down, you have to do better than this. Are you going to let my soft, curving feminine body stand so easily and completely triumphant over your muscled masculinity? Where's your male pride?".
It took him a long time to get up this time. She encouraged, or taunted him, depending on how you looked at it. "Come on, get up.. get up. Get up and I'll give you something. Come on, that's it". At last he stood unsteadily. He knew he was in a bad way now, and for the first time it occured to him that at this rate he was going to lose.
She was on him in an eyeblink, managing to kick under his guard, hitting his slackening belly once more, before rolling him back with an unending stream of hooks and uppercuts. Paf! Paf! P-p-Paff!! Pafff! Pa-Pa-Paff!!! He was on the ropes again, she bouncing his head back and forth with short jabs, each impact spraying blood. She unleashed a rolling combo of blows, bellypunch, knee to the guts, uppercut to the jaw, rising elbow smash to the jaw (though with enough power pulled from it to make sure it didn't finish him off), knee to the abs again, hook punch to his left, then right ribs, another uppercut to the jaw. He hung gasping on the ropes. Her pink gloves were behind his head again, but this time she pulled his head forwards onto a long, deep, sloppy kiss. Her naked body pressed against his, sliding up and down it on a sheen of their sweat. Those magnificent breasts were squashed against his chest muscles. His cock was trapped between their bellies, and she rubbed hers up and down against it, aquiring trickles of cock-leakage that ran into her belly button, or rolled down to the thatch of fur between her legs. "I'm going to give you a little taste of what you could have" she breathed into his ear "as a reward for not giving up, and taking your beating like a good boy". She placed her feet on the lower rope, and used the ropes to lever herself up into position so she could lower herself onto his aching manhood. He let out a surprised groan as he slid into her. She hung on his neck, lifting her feet off the lower rope, and wrapping her legs around his waist, gripping with them. Her internal muscles contracted around his trapped cock, and she commenced bouncing herself against him lightly, then with more ferocity. He could only make inchoherent noises of appreciation, using what strength he could muster to match her bounces with thrusts of his own.
He took his arms from the ropes, clasping her firm buttocks with his black boxing gloved hands and pulling her onto his thrusts. "Oh! Oh! Oh! Yes!" she cooed, "You like that, don't you? Oh! Oh! Oh! this could be your reward, if I was helpless, limp in your arms, like this". She demonstrated, hanging herself back in his arms so that her arms and hair swung down. The posture threw her huge breasts up into his face. His mouth descended on them, kissing, licking, sucking. After a time of this, she leaned away further, her legs tightening their grip around his waist, more of her weight being supported by his grip on her buttocks. The next thing he knew, there was an impact in his face.
She leant away from him so she could cycle swift punches into his face. His head bounced back and forwards as though it were tied by elastic to her pink gloves.He did nothing to defend himself, not willing to give up the pleasure of fucking her as she used his head for speed-ball practice. Eventually his legs gave out, and he was on his knees, still taking punches. She released his waist, put down her feet and stood up, lifting herself off him. Her pink gloves pressed to the back of his head once more, pulling him forwards and burying his face in her naked womanhood. He kissed and lapped at her sex in a clear admission of defeat, of surrender. They both knew he was beaten now. She moaned with pleasure as his tounge rasped against her most sensitive parts, her body shuddering. Eventually she emitted a small, fluttering cry, her face flushing pink. When her breathing returned to normal, she gave him a push and he went over onto his back once more.
He lay there panting, trying to make sense of it all. It was impossible. She was nothing more than a busty girl, yet she was destroying him. He used what little strength he had to lift his head and peer upwards.
"Why did you let me beat you?" she asked, sounding very disappointed and petulant. "Don't you want to beat me? To have this body at your mercy? Aren't I a prize worth fighting for?".
From where he lay, the view was breathtaking. The firmly muscled, long tanned legs seemed to go on forever, up and up and up, until they led his eyes to the wet pinkness of her sex, crowned by a stripe of brown hair. Above that, a firm flat belly with just a hint of the underlying muscle was decorated with a diamante ornament that cascaded from her deep belly button. Her breasts bounced mightly above that belly, seen from below they looked bigger than ever, like D-cup zeppelins, and above these a face that seemed both sweet and wicked in equal measure gazed down at him, bangs of brown hair hanging down over it. The amber eyes and small red mouth both showed her amusement and the pleasure beating him was affording her. It was true, she was a prize worth fighting for. Worth dying for even. He couldn't give up. He would suffer anything for the merest chance that he could turn it around and have that lovely naked body completely at his mercy. He'd never give in. She'd have to finish him completely. He began to heave himself up to his knees.
She waited patiently for him to clamber all the way to his feet. "Good boy" she said when he finally got there. He stood there swaying, boxing gloved hands hanging by his sides. All he could do was stare wordlessly, panting as blood trickled down his chin. His hot regard pleased her, it told her he was completely her creature. She stretched and posed, arching her back to thrust out a chest that needed no amplification, shaking her shoulders so that those big, firm orbs wobbled like twin jellies. Raising her boxing gloved hands above her head, she rotated her hips, going through some of her favourite and most lavacious dancefloor moves, alternaltely displaying breasts, belly, and her naked womanhood. He groaned with need, his stiff cock twitching as muscles spasmed. The pressure was unbearable, it felt like his manhood was going to explode. He had to get it into her. Raising his gloves into the best guard he could maintain, he staggered forwards to his doom.
She came smoothly out of a belly-dance move to meet him half way. He kept his gloves up as the long legs whipped up towards his head, right, then left. Those dangerous, dainty feet smacked against the gloves on either side, allowing himself to feel he was still in the fight, not completely defenceless. As the second kick landed, he dared to attempt an attack, jabbing forwards towards that perfectly pretty face, though he'd sworn at the start not to risk any damage to that lovely visage, now he was desperate.
He needn't have worried. The pretty face wasn't there when his fist arrived. She bent forwards with that easy sinuous belly-dancer grace, and popped two quick punches into her favourite target, his belly. The muscles he'd worked so hard to develop there were useless now, after the pounding they'd taken, and he once again was amazed at the punching power her petite frame could develop. "Ugghhh! Ouuff!" he groaned, and doubled forwards, pulling back his punching arm, using his elbows to guard his lower abdomen, while keeping his gloves up before his face.
It was near impossible to maintain a good guard in his current state, and in his eagerness to protect his aching belly. He hadn't pulled his punching hand back into quite the right position. She seemed to detect this flaw by supernatural means, such was the instantness in which she took advantage of it. As she uncoiled from her ducking position her whole body twisted, weight shifting onto her forward leg, and a hook arced behind his gloves and slammed into the side of his face.
He staggered sideways, his guard coming completely undone, arms swinging outwards. She danced into position, light on her toes as a ballerina, and those long legs flashed out, left, right, left right.
"URRRGHH!! ORRGGHH!! BBORGGHH!! OOOUUFFF!!" he complained, as those pedicured feet slammed into his abs. Forgetting all his training he doubled up, hugging his belly with both arms. He heard that twinkling giggle again as she stepped in close, and swung upwards, twisting at her supple waist to put all the force her aerobicised body could generate into an uppercut that slammed into his jaw, her gloved fist carrying his head upwards, standing him upright.
He staggered back, the momentum of the blow forcing him to back pedal, or else be laid out as he eventually, inevitably must be. She let him take himself out of range of her fists, and into the target zone of her longer range weaponry. The kick was delivered with the easy grace of a nightclub dancer, the ball of her foot smashing up into his jaw, snapping his head back. When his head bounced forwards again, it was straight onto another such kick delivered with the other long, lissom leg. His staggering became more desperate, more of a horizontal falling backwards, and he would have fallen had he not run backwards into the ropes. They creaked as they took his weight, he had enough sense left in his rattled skull to throw an arm over the top one so that it held him up. He then made the mistake of throwing his other arm to the other side in preparation to heave himself up by this means. This had the effect of putting him in an almost crucified position on the ropes, wide open, which was just where she wanted him, because, of course, she had pursued him to the ropes, and was stood directly before him.
Her pink boxing gloves were twin blurs as she pummelled his undefended stomach, generating devestating power once more by twisting that supple waist. She didn't let him so much as draw a breath, so that, after an initial few loud "OOUUUGGHH!"'s and "URRGHH!"'s he could manage no more than a small repetitive 'uh uh uh uh uh uh uh". He doubled forwards around his punished belly, and she put her pink boxing gloves behind his head, pulling her upper arms in towards her body so that her big boobs were trapped between them, pressed together into impressive cleavage, and pulled forwards with her gloved hands. His face was buried in her cleavage, pressed into the wonderful soft cushions of those magnificent, naked knockers. It was a trap from which he made no effort to free himself as her knees came slamming up into his stomach, the blows penetrating deep beyond the wall of his abdominal muscles, punishing vulnerable internal organs. "uh uh uh uh uh" he grunted, muffled now by the faceful of boobs. Eventually it became too much, he began to slide from the ropes to his knees, but she caught him, throwing an arm around him, getting her shoulder under his, and supporting his weight. His bulk pressing down on her petite but well-muscled frame made her stagger a little. Straining with effort, she pushed him back onto the ropes, not allowing him to fall. His legs were boneless under him, but he instinctively, dumbly, grabbed onto the ropes again for support. She stepped away from him, and miraculously he stayed aloft, though sagging onto the ropes.
She piroetted, twirling with a dancers grace, torquing up her glistening naked body, and then coming out of the twirl with a step forwards and an uppercut powered by all that angular momentum she'd developed. Once more his head was smashed up and back, once more he saw stars, and felt his teeth driven into his gum-shield. The blow made the ropes creak loudly, as he sank back into them. She turned her back to him contemptuously, clearly not concerned that he might present any threat, and stalked off to the other side of the ring as he came off the ropes and went down onto his knees. As he fell, he was aware of only one thing, that curving back, with a butterfly tattooed into the small of it, just above and between pert, round, firm buttocks that she swished from side to side as she walked away. He barely realised he was falling, didn't perceive that he was now regarding her bottom from a kneeling position, and was only dimly aware of what had happened when he toppeled from his knees onto his face, and the vision of her backside was lost to him.
He lay like that for a long time, panting, barely knowing where he was. She waited patiently, lounging against the ropes on her side of the ring. Just when it seemed she'd miscalculated, and he wasn't going to get up again, he started making feeble attempts to lever himself upright. When he finally stood on his feet, it was the cumulation of an heroic effort. It seemed unsported, even to her, when she walked over and laid him out once more with a single easy high kick.
He hit the mat, and this time he stayed down. He didn't have the strength left to rise again. It was over, she'd beaten him. To be more exact, she'd crushed him. In retrospect it was obvious he'd never stood a chance. Her foot was on his chest once more, and she stood with her hands clasped above her head in another victory pose, body thrust forwards, displaying her naked gorgeousness to him once more. He started to shudder violently, and knew he'd passed the point of no return. He used the last strength he had to lift his head up, the way she'd posed her foot allowed him to kiss it's upper surface in a final admission of defeat. Then his whole body spasmed violently, and he finally lost control, white fluid fountaining out of his agonised cock, spraying all over the place, some of it coming down in his own face. He came and came and came, he'd never had an orgasm like it. Finally he slumped back, the demands of his climax had been too much for his battered body. He was out cold.
The busty wench's victory over her male opponent was all the more complete in that the final knockout blow was struck not by her pink-gloved fists, or her high kicking shapely legs. Sex itself was the weapon she'd finished him with.

He came round lying on a bench in the changing rooms. Her face was smiling down at him. Long fingered hands were working delicately around his face, and she wore a little cap with a red cross on it that was clearly taken from some 'sexy nurse' cos-play outfit. She'd not bothered with the rest of the outfit. "This will sting" she told him in a commanding tone as she applied a styptic pencil to a nasty cut on his lip. It did. He didn't protest though, as her ministrations were interspersed with very tender little kisses on his cuts and bruises. Her naked body seemed to brush against his way to often to be simple accident, and she'd placed the medical kit somewhere beyond his head, so that every time she took something from it, he got a facefull of those massive boobs. He'd kiss and lap at them while she mused "Oh, where is it? I'm sure there was more iodine in here" and took a long time to find things in the little box with it's red cross. It wasn't long before his cock was upstanding once more. Eventually he was told "Well, I've done all I can. The rest is down to time and lots of rest. You're not going to be out of bed for a week".
He started to protest at that, but she told him sternly "I said a week in bed", kneeling astride him and pinning his hands over his head with her own. "Don't worry, I won't let you get bored" and she lowered herself with slow deliberatness onto his stiff cock. As they matched rhythmn's she warned him "Don't forget. You lost. I conquered you. I expect you to know your place. I'll be on top, and you'll do everything I say. You understand?".
He didn't have any objections to that.

All things must come to an end. In truth, he'd known it would. He'd seen the proof. While he'd been out, she'd used one of those timer camera's to take photo's of her standing in various victory poses over him. He joined the others in her collection. She'd got a photo album that was full of them, all the people she'd seduced into defeat. Picture after picture of her standing victorious over the naked bodies of muscular men and beautiful women. Sometimes it was couples, the beaten girl draped over her similarly unconcious man, Oxana's foot resting on her still body. Sometimes the couple were laid out side by side, their sexy conqueress standing with a foot on each. Sometimes the couple were two women, once there were three lovely blondes, apparently triplets, piled under Oxana's foot. On rarer occassions it was two men, she seemed careful not to bite off more than she could chew, though in one or two pictures, where she stood victorious but with much more than the usual bruising on her naked body, it had clearly been close. Whenever he looked into that history of her victories, he was soon desperate to be inside her once more. However, as he wasn't the first, he clearly had no reason to expect to be the last either.
In the end, he'd asked where it was going, and not gotten the answer he might like. "You can't deny I've got a good thing going here" she told him "I get to make my fantasies real, with partners of my selection, from a neverending stream of potential playmates. What would you do?".
He had to admit he didn't blame her, who wouldn't want to live their fantasy? But he knew that at some point, he would have to admit his time was up. He resolved to leave the next day.
"If you really want me" she told him in the dark "all you have to do is come back, and beat me in a rematch. Then I'll be yours".
"Do you lay that challenge down to everyone?" he asked, perhaps a little impolitely.
"No".
Yes, he'd leave tommorrow. He'd got a training regime to start on.

It was a sunny day on the mountain. He shouldered his pack and smiled at some private joke as he crunched his way along the gravel path leading from the hostel. He nodded greetings as he passed a couple labouring under large rucksacks towards the hostel. They were a good looking pair, the guy muscular with an easy grin, his girl, a real beauty, delicate pale face, small rouged mouth, blonde hair shining in the sunlight as it floated on the breeze.
"Lambs to the slaughter" he thought as he turned his gaze to the road, scanning for a good place to hitch from.

Oxana was actually having a little difficulty finding her words, and she felt there was a mild heat in her cheeks that she wasn't used to experiencing. Whenever she turned her gaze to the booking system she was almost afraid to lift it up again, because when she did she found herself staring and mumbling intelligent things like "uhh.. umm..". The latest two to walk into her domain were something else. The guy was stunning enough, and would be well cast in any of a number of Viking or middle earth fantasies, but it was his partner that was simply devestating. The blonde girl had a delicate beauty that must be known to modelling agencies world-wide. Oxana fumbled with the passports, one French, one Finnish. The photo's in them were not unflattering.
"Can I ask you" the girl interrupted in a soft, breathy voice that could silence a rowdy bar, "It is safe around here, isn't it?".
"Umm.. Of course" Oxana replied, struggling a little to meet her eyes.
"Only, that guy who just left, what happened to him?".
"Oh" said Oxana, shrugging "He boxes, you know?".
"Ach. Shame I missed him". The Viking warrior said disappointedly. "Be good to have a sparring partner after so long on the road. Worried I might be getting out of practice".
Oxana dropped the passports. Once she'd recovered them, she stuttered "Umm.. I'd have l-liked to see that". She felt a fresh wave of heat rush up her cheeks.
"And once you'd softened him up, you wouldn't begrudge me going a few rounds with him, would you darling?" the angelic blonde asked.
"'Course not" the Viking said generously.
"You.. uh.. you both box?" Oxana asked.
"Kickbox" the girl replied.
Oxana finally met her eyes, and a wide grin spread across her face.
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  #2  
Old 22-Sep-22, 18:06
Perpfucker Perpfucker is offline
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Default Re: Oxana's Castle

One of the best erotic fighting stories I have come across.
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  #3  
Old 23-Sep-22, 08:22
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Default Re: Oxana's Castle

Dang! One of the sexiest stories I have read in a while. Do you any more from the author? Or a continuation to this one perhaps?
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Old 06-Oct-22, 23:28
mixfightfan mixfightfan is offline
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Default Re: Oxana's Castle

:Beifall: :Beifall: :Beifall: :Beifall:

Fortsetzung bitte
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  #5  
Old 14-Mar-23, 02:57
fightape fightape is offline
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Default Re: Oxana's Castle

Would love to read the next chapter in Oxanas story.
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