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Old 26-Apr-18, 16:16
muarijun muarijun is offline
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Default Re: Closing Shift (mixed boxing)

Nice story. I understand they enjoy each other and at same time they enjoy friendly but hard and competitive fight. The russian girl is searching some competition to make the fights more exciting and interesting. By this reason I believe the guy had to win sometimes to win respect of the girl. She would be the dominat one but I believe she need to feel the risk, the danger of to be defeated some times to enjoy more the battles and the victories.
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Old 01-May-18, 12:53
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Default Closing Shift - Part II

I woke up at 9:43 the next morning, sore all over and with a massive headache. I had overslept; apparently hitting the snooze on my alarm so many times it must have given up. I called in sick to my other job at a coffee shop across town, knowing I wasn’t going to make it on time, and if I did, I would look like shit and feel worse. I needed the next few hours to get myself together.

I stood in the bathroom and inspected my face in the dirty mirror. It was a patchwork of black and blue, not to mention purple, red and yellow--pretty much every kind of bruise imaginable—and my right eye was still pretty swollen. My left cheek had puffed up a bit, too. A few bandages over the spots where I had been cut. The cuts weren’t terrible, so I didn’t need stitches, just time. The bandage above my right eyebrow had a faint brown spot from the dried blood that had pooled in it from the cut. I reached into the cabinet for a fresh bandage, but we were out.

“Dude, what happened to you? You OK?” My roommate, Jeff asked. Jeff and I had been friends since college, and while I struggled to pay my share of the rent, he had done quite well and was putting his degree in statistics to good use. Jeff had a shaggy mop of brown hair, was about 6’3” and probably 180 lbs, lean and muscular. He was a bit of a slob, and had a manic energy that he radiated in all of his actions. It showed in his genuine concern for me.

“I’m good, man, I just…”

“You look like you were in a fight.”

“You should see the other guy.” Really, though, I thought. Wasn’t even trying to hide that I had been in a fight, but the who, the how, I wasn’t ready to share that. I was still trying to figure that out myself.

I looked into the mirror again, hardly recognizing myself. I had been told I looked a bit like James Dean on more than one occasion, but today I was looking a bit more like Sylvester Stallone at the end of Rocky. Comes with the territory, I guess.

Just then, the doorbell rang. I could hear Jeff walking briskly to the door, when I realized Katya had sent me about twelve texts this morning that I hadn’t seen, as well as a photo she had taken of herself standing over me when I was out cold. Apparently she wanted to talk. Then the thought occurred to me...

“I’ll get it!!!” I shouted, rushing past, opening the door a crack and edging out so that my roommate couldn’t see. I didn’t want him to see her with her bruises, and get the wrong idea about what was going on.

Katya stood there before me, wearing black leggings, running shoes, and a track jacket, with a white baseball cap, nursing an iced latte. She was sporting a couple bruises, too, but didn’t seem too self-conscious about it.

“Hey there, champ,” she said, sarcastically, peering up at me from the landing. It was interesting to finally get a view of her from a couple inches of higher ground. She still cut an imposing figure. “Nice shorts,” she chuckled, noticing my boxers. In the rush, I had totally forgotten to put pants on before answering the door.

“How did you find me? I never gave you my address!” I said, bewildered, having just realized it.

“I shared location on your phone with me when I gave you my number.” She said matter-of-factly, grinning like a mischievous child.

“…OK…” I took a moment to process it. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“I want to make sure you are feeling OK. You coming to work tonight?”

“Ah… I hadn’t thought about that yet. What are people going to think if they see both of us with bruises?”

“Don’t worry, I can cover with makeup. Promise me you’ll come tonight.”

“Hey, one more thing. Are you going to help me close tonight, or you gonna make me do all the work again?”

“Ah, yes. How about this? I’ll make you deal. We split closing chores until next match. If you win, I will do all the cleanup work for the next three months, when we have another match. If I win, you do all of it until next match.”

“Sounds good, on one condition—next match is boxing, not kickboxing.” This would give me a bit of an advantage, considering I was a stronger boxer, and had no experience or training in kickboxing.

“Fine, but after that, kickboxing,” she said, slightly frustrated.

“OK, deal.” I grinned.

“Deal,” she said, without any hesitation.

“Alright, I gotta go. I’ll see you tonight.” I said, looking over my shoulder to check that Jeff wasn’t listening.

“Alright, later, my big, strong boxer man,” She said, lips pouting, eyes hitting me below the belt. I suddenly noticed the swelling sensation and resulting bulge that had begun as we discussed our plans to fight again.

“Bye!” I yelped, closing the door swiftly in embarrassment. I turned around to see Jeff in the hallway, leaning against a countertop.

“Who the hell was that?” Jeff enquired.

“Nobody. Just… a friend from work.”

“Oh, she a barista? You like her?” He must not have overheard our conversation, I thought.

“…Yeah, yeah,” I said, not really wanting to talk about it.

“What’s her name?” Jeff was starting to get on my nerves, asking all these questions.

“Her name’s Katya. I’ll introduce you next time,” I offered, trying to get myself off the hook.

“That’s Russian, isn’t it? I bet she has some interesting stories. Be careful with her, Russian girls are tricky.”

“Tricky? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, man, sorry.”



As the weeks went by, Katya and I grew closer, every day more entrenched in our budding rivalry. We continued working the night shift, each of us lending our boxing and fitness expertise to the patrons of Chin Music, using any free time we had to practice combinations or hit the bags. Katya would tease me, never explicitly gloating over her victory—it was still our secret, but she never missed an opportunity to remind me who was boss, even though we were officially of equal rank as coworkers.

It was clear enough to me that she enjoyed her position of dominance. I wasn’t crazy about being on that end of the relationship, but at least I knew we shared that mutual interest. And I was thankful to her for reawakening in me my dormant passion for violence in its purest form.

Still, despite my growing infatuation with this mysterious valkyrie, I was biding my time until the day I had another chance to even the score and put her in her place.

We had agreed to two official matches to determine who was superior, each in our preferred sport: one boxing match, which would be first, and one kickboxing match after that. As much as she lorded her victory over me, she was just as eager as I was to see who would prevail in a full fight, with rules, a ref, judging, and an audience. This would be our chance to really go all out. It also gave us both a goal to work towards as we began our training again in earnest, each of us striving to reach our fullest potential.

I noticed Katya was beginning to emphasize power in her training now, and had incorporated more weight training into her regimen. I wondered what kind of effect that would have by the time we had our first official match at the end of three months. She was already very strong, but I wondered just how much stronger she was going to get.

I was focusing on strategy, seeing as I already had the advantage in terms of muscle. I trained with Katya in the gym, but was also putting in time after-hours, working with a friend of mine, Brian, who was an MMA instructor at another gym in town. He was a bit taller than me, about 6’0”, but probably the same weight, more of a beanpole, with short cropped black hair. Brian was Korean American, and had grown up learning Tae Kwon Do, but then had transitioned to Muay Thai and MMA, eventually going 19-4 in his MMA career, and stopping after being hobbled by a chronic leg injury. Brian showed me the basics of kickboxing, an area that had previously been a total blind spot for me. He also helped me work on hand pad drills, so that I could practice combinations without Katya knowing what I was planning. I had told Brian about how she had whupped my ass, and to my surprise he didn’t give me any shit for it.

“Women who fight, man, you have to take them seriously. Just like any other opponent. I’ve trained with some tough chicks in my day. Some of them fight harder than the guys, especially when they’re matched up with a guy.” He said, as if bestowing ancient wisdom gained from painful sacrifice.

I appreciated that he understood where I was coming from. Besides, he knew I had a good thing going—it’s not every day you meet a woman who wants to spar with you and flirt with you in the same night. I was pretty sure Katya wanted to take things further, but I wanted to give it time and not rush into anything. Most of all, I wanted to prove to her that I was a good boxer, to gain her respect. I wanted to win our next match. I wanted to be more than good enough for her.

If we’re being completely honest, my desire to overcome Katya in boxing was not simply a matter of competitiveness between rivals. If it had been tennis, that would be one thing. I could let that go. Combat, on the other hand, is at the core of human nature. As much as I hated to admit it, it was also important to my identity as a man, and most importantly because boxing was my sport. I simply couldn’t afford to be bested by the woman I desired, no matter how strong or skilled she was. While intellectually I understood that her lifetime of dedication, training, and fighting experience gave her a serious edge over me, the knuckle-dragging Neanderthal in me was simply unable to accept her as the superior fighter.

That dark part of my psyche, my lizard brain, had been activated in that fight.The Reptilia cortex--between love and hate. Something I had buried long ago. Like a shadow that followed me my whole life, it waited with drooling jaws for the moment I would finally set it free.

It needed to defeat her, to dominate her, to break her, consume her.

And I think she needed it, too. Katya was a rare bird. She wasn’t going to just hand herself over to any guy she liked. She needed to test me. She needed to see that I could handle her. To be overwhelmed by me.

At least, that’s what I told myself, to motivate myself to work harder, to train harder, to fight harder. And I did. I tested the limits of what I thought possible for myself. I trained so hard over those months that I actually got leaner, and by the end of it I could move faster AND hit harder than I ever had before.



Katya, as it happened, was not just a fighter. One night, she told me she was playing a show at a local club. She was in this punk band. Lead singer. I went, and although it was too loud for me to make out much, I was really impressed.

She looked incredible in her street clothes—a studded black leather jacket, dark eye shadow and eyeliner, skin tight blue jeans, and black ankle boots with zippers down the insteps and 3 inch wedge heels, the outfit almost a sort of ceremonial garb, like that of a nun. On her imposing frame, the clothes made her look all the more powerful, like the mysterious harbinger of some new dark age. Her dark brown hair hung down just past her shoulders, her bangs cut at an angle, swooping down across her face from left to right.

She had this beautiful, ragged singing voice. Not a smoker’s voice, but she had a snarl. Her accent nearly disappeared in carefully crafted and rehearsed lyrics, although almost completely inaudible at the volume of the music of her band. I couldn’t make out all the words, but the feelings were clear—sex, violence, urgency, alienation, heartbreak, mourning… feelings so universal, but very much her own. Hearing her pouring out her soul like that, making herself vulnerable to me, to strangers, but at the same time, exerting a power over me that I didn’t quite understand… it deepened her hold on me.

“Katya, you’re amazing,” I told her backstage after the show.

“Thank you, I love to sing. Almost as much as fight,” she said, giving me a wink and a light jab in the ribs.

“When did you start doing this?” I inquired, wondering how it fit with her story.

“The band… I sing with 2 years, after I retire from fighting. I have always loved rock music. I write in my journal for many years, about fighting, about coming to this country, about my father passing…” She seemed distant, and slightly sad. “I take my notes and listen to music from my band… then turn them into song. It feels good to sing it, like winning a fight.”

“I like singing too… but just other people’s songs,” I said. “Never felt comfortable singing my own words.”

“You have to be OK to be… I don’t know the word…naked?” She said.

“You mean vulnerable?” I replied, confused.

“Yes, I think that is it. To let people know your true feelings. It is easier when you are alone.”

“Are you alone?” I asked.

She paused for a moment, eyes studying the pattern on the beer-soaked wood floor of the club.

“I have been, for long time. But… I don’t know.”



(This next part is very long, but hopefully worth the long read!)




THE MATCH

...

The day had finally come. Friday night. The doors to the gym had closed and been locked, and I stood in my corner of the practice boxing ring as our friends, corners, and Katya’s fight medic pal all found their places, assembling all around the ring as we all came face to face with the inevitable.

I had climbed into the ring first, wearing only a pair of grey satin boxing shorts and my black 16 oz. gloves. I had wrapped my hands as usual in my red cloth wraps, and my groin cup was fastened into place, in case any errant fists ended up striking me below the belt. Brian was my corner, and he seemed eager to see how I would perform under his guidance.

“Remember, don’t wear yourself out too early, but don’t give her too much time to do what she wants, either. You’ve got to keep a balance of pressure. Look for an opening, then exploit. Rinse and repeat. Fight smart, not hard. Remember, she’s a professional. Don’t underestimate her for a second.” Wise words, and I took them to heart. I couldn’t simply assume that I could do what I did last time and expect that to work—I was winning until she started kicking me, but she learned from that fight too. I was interested to see how her strategy would change since our first match.


That’s when I saw Katya striding in from the women’s locker room towards the ring, flanked by her attendants, almost as if she were on her way to a real career fight. She even wore a hooded robe, black satin lined with a series of white triangles, fitting of her almost gothic aesthetic. She stepped into the ring and removed her hood and then the rest of her robe, unsheathing her beautiful weaponized body before the adoring crowd that had gathered to watch our bloody spectacle.

Katya had definitely gotten stronger since our last match. She had packed on a significant amount of muscle, and I was starting to wonder if I had taken my strength advantage for granted. Her shoulders in particular had become impressive pauldrons of rippling, corded muscles, making her amazonian frame even more intimidating than before. Having two inches of height over me, if Katya had reach and power to spare, I would be in a lot of trouble. She looked as if she could have easily weighed 160 lbs, or possibly as much as me. I tried not to let the idea of it psych me out.

Underneath her robe, she wore a neat white tank top, as well as the same lavender shorts she wore in our previous match. She was barefoot again, as was I. This time, her toenails were painted a deep violet that was almost black. Katya popped in her black rubber mouthguard, the shape of it distorting her lips slightly. Something I never used to think of as “sexy,” but it was sexy as hell when she did it. She then donned her 14 oz. gloves, a deep metallic violet that seemed to compliment her complexion. She turned to her corner, an older looking Asian man with short-cropped hair and tattoos on his arms, to help her lace up her gloves. She wore no makeup or lipstick, impractical decoration that would only get in the way. And she wasn’t about to let anything get in the way of her conquest.

We continued our preparations and soon enough it was time for the match to begin. Around the ring, a handful of spectators had gathered—a few friends of Katya’s and only a couple of mine. I didn’t exactly want to broadcast to the world that I was making a hobby of fighting women, but there were a couple of my friends who thought it was cool, or at least interesting. I could see some of them gesturing to each other—were they placing bets? The “referee,” our mutual friend and co-worker George, a young, handsome black man of about 40 years, with a thorough knowledge of boxing, signaled us to come to the center of the ring.

“Alright, I want a clean and fair fight. This fight will go ten rounds, or until one of you can no longer fight or your corner throws in the towel. You both know the rules of boxing, so don’t try any hits below the belt, kicks, knees, elbows, headbutts, or anything that isn’t a forward facing punch. Clinching is allowed. This is supposed to be a fun match, so keep it clean and professional or I will end it. Understood?”

Katya and I both nodded and touched gloves. We made furtive eye contact, and for a brief moment, in her eyes, I saw her. Not the warrior, not the amazon, not the goddess. She let me see inside her soul. She offered no tough façade or flirty gestures. She was just looking right into me, offering up herself in turn. The moment itself was disarming to say the least. Maybe intentional.

“Fight!” George belted, hitting the round timer to start the match.

We approached each other, for the first time in a while. This time felt different from last time. I was more nervous. I had more to prove. Katya was quiet, seeming more focused than ever on the task at hand. Her piercing hazel eyes studied my movements, her head tilting like she was some kind of bird of prey, waiting for an opportunity to strike. She shuffled towards me with intention, shoulders up in a tight guard stance, like some kind of moving, impregnable fortress.

I readied myself to meet her challenge, trying my best to suppress the pit in my stomach. I was in my own head—the last place I needed to be. I silenced my internal monologue and turned over the keys to my instincts, which seldom steered me wrong in situations like these.

For a moment, I thought our first round would bear some resemblance to our previous battle, but I was sorely mistaken. Katya unleashed a furious assault on my guard, eager to do damage as early as possible to gain an immediate advantage. As I feared, right out of the gate, her blows were heavier than any she had thrown in our first match.

Katya slammed a right haymaker against my guard, forcing me to step back just to keep from being bowled over. She followed up with a left jab, allowing her to keep on the offensive without sacrificing much in the way of defense. Faked a cross then went for another jab, continuing to press against my guard as I searched for an opportunity to break up her onslaught.

Then came another right cross, which I managed to dodge under, stepping in towards her as her ribs were left totally unprotected, save for the soft white fabric of her form-fitting sports bra. It was the perfect opportunity.

My left hook slammed into her side, but she caught herself before I could land a clean blow, tensing up to absorb the impact, while chambering her right hand again and shooting it back out almost immediately, hitting me square between the eyes, my head snapping back and leaving me stunned for a split second. I brought my hands up to protect my head, which of course left me open for a punishing left hook.

Katya’s hook smacked into my midsection, and I folded over, trying to protect my liver, which I calculated she was likely to target next. She turned a right hook on my kidney, eliciting serious pain as I struggled to keep it together. God damn, she was strong.

I sensed her going high again, and put my gloves up, meeting a powerful jab with a block and squaring back up as I fought through the pain. Katya had accomplished her first objective, which was to totally throw me out of my comfort zone. It had worked. However, I knew her offensive couldn’t last forever.

Katya didn’t hesitate to close the distance again, charging me aggressively without telegraphing her next move. I was running out of time to figure out a counter, and I was getting tired of being on the defensive. I threw out a quick jab and came with a rapid right hook, for which I was punished when Katya sidestepped it and slammed a right hook of her own into my jaw. Her counterpunching game was on point tonight. Maybe I was being too obvious, or I just couldn’t think fast enough to keep up with her, but something was going to have to change if I was going to have a chance in this fight.

She came for me again with a couple sharp jabs, and I tried to get around them to return the favor, but her superior reach made it very difficult to get through. I ended up getting stuffed by a right cross which I luckily was able to block with one hand, although the punch caused my hand to be shoved back into my face.

“Ugh, fuck,” I grunted to myself.

Katya ignored my grumbling and continued to press the advantage, her dark brown ponytail bouncing back and forth behind her shoulders as she methodically picked at my defenses. I tightened my guard, trying to figure out her attack patterns, but it was all I could do to prevent further damage. She was starting to back me into my corner, but I wasn’t about to let her embarrass me like that in the first round.

I threw a jab, which she swatted away effortlessly, moving to deliver a left hook to my temple. Somehow, I saw an opening and had enough time to act on it. I threw everything I had into an uppercut which hit her squarely on her jaw as her left hand crashed into my cheek. Katya was sent stumbling backwards by the force of my uppercut, and her punch sent me reeling to my left. Both of us slowed for a moment to register the damage. Katya straightened herself out, as did I, and for the briefest instant I saw the beginning of a smirk register at the corner of her mouth.

We squared up again, trading a few rapid strikes, all of them blocked or doing minimal damage. It seems I had her respect for the moment. It had taken me a while to warm up after playing defense for the first couple minutes, but I really felt like I was in it now. She was breathing heavily. I wondered how much longer she would be able to keep fighting so aggressively.

Just then, the bell rang to signal the end of the first round. I went back to my corner, to find a sober-looking Brian waiting for me with a towel and water bottle.

“Well, that could have been worse. She could have knocked you out,” He said, sarcastically. I didn’t have much to say. Just let him continue as I cleaned myself up and rinsed my mouth out with water.

“She definitely threw you off with that early offensive, but it’s good you got that uppercut in there. Even though she’s killing you on points, she knows she has to be careful. You need to get more aggressive, though. Like I said, keep a balance of pressure, don’t let her run you over. She has reach so you need to fight like an in-fighter. Dodge, eat punches if you have to, but you need to score more hits, and hit hard. Judging from her level of conditioning I don’t see her getting gassed, even fighting at this rate. She looks like she could do this all day. Understand?”

I nodded, and Brian patted me on the shoulder. “Alright, make the male species proud out there.” I rolled my eyes. Shook my shoulders and loosened up, ready for the next round.

Katya was getting a shoulder massage from her corner, and seemed to be listening intently to everything he said. It seemed like these two were close. I wondered how long they had worked together. Maybe he was her coach from her fighting days—had he come a long way just for this? He moved down to her legs, methodically rubbing down her quads, hamstrings, IT bands, inner thighs, then down to her calves and then her feet, with almost a clinical precision in his technique. I wondered if he got any pleasure out of it, or if perhaps to him, she was more like a daughter, or simply an athlete under his care.

I thought about what it would be like to be in his place, possibly under different circumstances. There was something about her giving herself over for a massage, turning over total control of her legs and feet. It was a kind of submission. An act of trust. I felt myself begin to stir at the thought. Did my best to put it out of my mind quickly.

We returned to the center of the ring, and George eyed us as the bell rang for the second round. Katya with those raptorial eyes again.

We squared up and traded jabs and feints. Blocking, shuffling back and forth. Pushing each other. Jockeying for position. Me trying to get inside, her trying to keep me out. A bit like courtship, I guess.

I attempted to charge in again, and Katya hit me with a stinging jab, pushing me back again. I wasn’t getting close enough, but I was starting to figure it out. My mistakes were costing me, but I was going to make it count. She was relying too heavily on her jabs to keep me out. This time I dodged in to my left, and threw a cross that connected beautifully, flattening her face and twisting her head to her right, opening her up for more punishment. I threw a couple body blows, then switched back to targeting her head. My two hooks to her body found purchase, and I could feel spit fly from her mouth and land on my bare chest. She was able to dodge my next jab, but that just made my right harder to dodge, and she paid for it when I stepped in with a killer right cross, sending her stumbling backwards, covering herself with her gloves again.

It seemed my strategy was starting to work. She was a strong puncher, but ultimately I had improved my striking power in the past three months, and she wasn’t quite ready for that. I could see a welt forming over her left eye, and her face was getting puffy. She shook out the cobwebs and slammed her gloves together as I went in for another attack. I rushed in again, and…

WHAM! A violet overhand right flattened me, sending me down to my hands and knees. I heard a chorus of “Oooh!” from the small crowd. She had begun to figure out my tactics, and was compensating.

I really didn’t like being knocked down like that, tossed around like I was some kind of toy. But Katya had some serious power, and she demanded my respect. I couldn’t deny it. She was as strong as me. More than ever, I needed to fight smart. I was beginning to feel angry, humiliated even, that this woman was matching me blow for blow, even to the point where she seemed to be winning. But at the same time, it totally turned me on. It just made me want her more. Like the way Batman desires Catwoman, or maybe even the way Ahab became obsessed with Moby Dick.

I quickly but carefully picked myself up, ready to face another attack, and when I was on my feet again, George signaled for us to fight once more.

Katya immediately went on the offensive, but she was breathing hard, and her punches were slower and less effective. I didn’t want to just roll over and let her take the momentum, so I returned the favor and threw all I could at her. Maybe we were both a little punch-drunk. Hard to believe it was only the second round.

It must have been about thirty seconds of non-stop back and forth, trading punches, occasionally swatting away each other’s attacks, sometimes dodging and sidestepping, but neither of us were about to give the other advantage. I don’t know who went for the clinch first, but suddenly we were locked together, alternately gripping tightly and sneaking in a low punch to the ribs, abdomen, or kidney. Trying to edge the other towards the corner. Heads together, sweat-drenched. Gloved hands fumbling to grip glistening, sculpted shoulders under the halogen lights of the ring. Panting through our mouthguards and forcing air through our nostrils. I smelled a sweet floral scent mingling with her perspiration. A perversion of intimacy. The bell rang and I caught her eyes again.

We returned to our corners and Brian greeted me with an encouraging smile. He helped me get cleaned up and I focused on my breathing as I listened to his coaching.

“You’re doing good. She nailed you there but you got her good a few times before that. She’s going for power right now so if you’re going to get past her punches you need to dodge. If you can do that, you’ll win.”

“She’s so strong. I can’t believe… how strong…” I said, still reeling.

“To borrow a phrase… That’s pride, fucking with you. Remember, fight smart. If I thought this should be easy, I wouldn’t be helping you.”



The bell rang for round three and we were at it again. Katya was all business, and I didn’t have the energy to spare for games, either. This time, the approach was more cautious for both of us. We circled each other, shoulders high, bobbing our heads in and out, trying to read each other and predict each other’s strikes, trying to make the other miss.

Katya used her reach to step forward and send out a long right hook that struck my ribs, then step back before I could hit back. The effect was negligible, but it was annoying. It was like she was flouting the fact that she had reach on me. I tried to tag her with a jab but she just stuffed me with a jab of her own. She was trying to goad me into attacking.

If I was going to get to her, I needed her to attack first. I focused on my footwork, shuffling in and out, trying my best to channel Muhammad Ali. I could see Katya tilt her head again, studying my movements. I darted in and out, letting her throw out a punch only to get a big handful of air. After a couple seconds of this, she seemed to be getting frustrated. This time, I moved in and stepped forward with my right foot, ducking under a jab, then stepping back on my left, dodging out of the way of another right cross…

WHAM! My left hook connected perfectly with Katya’s unprotected ribcage. She crumpled over on her right, and I slammed a right-handed uppercut into a partially formed block, sending Katya reeling, but not to the ground as I had intended. She was able to get her defenses up more quickly than I thought she would.

She regarded me with those hazel eyes, seemingly devoid of emotion; her face was covered in sweat and swelling pink, wet strands of brown hair matted against her forehead. She was also sporting some redness around her abs and ribs. I estimated she was no longer concerned with having fun. She had only one thing on her mind—winning.

I continued to dance around her, seeing that my tactics were working. This time, she responded differently. She was no longer interested in keeping distance with me.

Katya charged me, throwing a hail of furious punches that I did my best to block or counterpunch. I blocked a jab, she landed a hook, I landed a jab, she landed a gut punch.

“Ughh!” I moaned, nearly losing my mouth-guard.

She attacked my abdomen some more, even going after my arms as I brought them down to play defense. I alternated jabs and crosses trying to push her off of me. She punched through them. I shuffled back, and she gave chase. I threw a punch that struck her in the chest, and she shrugged it off like it was nothing. Then I felt the unmistakable shooting pain of my nose breaking.

Katya’s powerful right hand smashed the bridge of my nose, sending a gout of blood shooting from my nostrils.

I fought through the pain to stay upright, despite the sudden light-headedness that came with the shock and loss of blood. Through my hazy, sweat-drenched vision I could have sworn I saw a self-satisfied smirk on Katya’s jaw. I wanted to knock it off of her face. I threw a clumsy haymaker, only to be repaid with a brutal uppercut that snapped my head back and sent me crumpling to my knees. Again, there was an audible response from the crowd as I fell before my amazonian opponent. I wasn’t out just yet, but I was down, and I wasn’t sure if I could get up.

“One… Two…” I could see the fight medic getting her equipment ready, as George started the count.

From where I was on the canvas, on my elbows and knees, all I could see were Katya’s perfect legs as she strode around barefoot, hips swaying and arms up in the air as she soaked up the adoration of her supporters. My head was swimming. I was in trouble now. It would be hard to breathe from here on out, and I risked permanent damage to my nose if I kept fighting. Was it worth it?

“Three… Four… Five…”

Of course it was worth it. I got up to one knee. Shook out the cobwebs. It would be harder than ever to take control of the fight now, but I had to keep fighting.

“Six…”

I got to my feet. The crowd cheered. The bell rang. End of round three.
Brian was ready when I got to my corner, doing his best to clean me up. He applied a cotton swab dipped in adrenaline to my nose to staunch the bleeding, reminded me to breathe through my mouth. As if I had any other option.

“Every time you change your tactics, she compensates. Learn to adjust when you see that change. You’ll need to outsmart her in the next round. Try to get her to drop her defenses. Go for the jaw. Try to knock her out. There’s no other way you’re going to win at this point.”



Round four began and we approached again, Katya looking more confident than ever. Maybe I could use that to my advantage.

I thought about what she would expect me to do at this point. Anyone in my position would be feeling desperate. That would drive them to go on the attack, get sloppy. I decided to do the opposite. I was going to play conservatively for the round. Make her really work for it.

She threw an opening volley of punches, all of them slow enough for me to block. I stayed defensive, sidestepping her when necessary so as to avoid getting cornered. I could feel strength returning to my arms as I waited for her next strike. She threw a powerful hook, which I simply sidestepped, almost causing her to lose her balance and sending her scrambling to regain her footing. She started to catch on to what I was doing. Her brow furrowed noticeably.

Come on, fight me you prick, she seemed to be saying with her steely gaze.

Come and get me, bitch, I replied, daring her to keep testing my reflexes.

She approached again, dropping her gloves, taunting me to take a shot. That really got the crowd excited. They could see what was going on. I wasn’t going to take the bait though. She resumed throwing quick jabs and other explorative strikes, all of them bouncing fairly harmlessly off my guard.

We continued the charade for another minute, and Katya seemed to be fed up with my little game. She threw a couple fakes, then a big hook that slammed into the side of my arm as I moved to absorb it. Followed with a powerful cross that I just barely caught with my gloves. I was pushed back and my guard was broken. She saw the opportunity and rushed in with another wild cross. This time, I sidestepped her completely, letting her have another huge fistful of nothing. I finally seized on the opportunity, sending a left hook of my own slamming into her jaw.

“Oooaaugh!” she bellowed, spitting her mouth-guard across the ring as a spray of blood, saliva, and sweat exploded from her face. She fell sideways to the canvass, more a result of losing her balance from the punch than from weakness. She propped herself up on her left forearm and her right hand, ready to get up almost as quickly as she had fallen. George waved me off and helped her get her mouth-guard as she stood back up, no count needed.

She eyed me for a moment, fuming visibly. Now she was angry. I had embarrassed her, apparently.

We skirmished for a couple seconds, but it was clear we were both conserving our energy for the next round. The bell rang, and we went back to our corners.



The fifth round began as a bitter slugfest, each of us giving and taking in equal measure, neither of us willing to accept defeat or let up in the slightest. Pride was on the line—her pride as a champion, my pride as a man. We fought with ferocity. With the kind of intensity that can only come from mutual respect. I managed to keep her from doing much further damage to my nose, and she compensated by targeting my body. I ached all over from taking so many of her strikes in the past couple rounds. My arms were sore from protecting against her attacks. I got in close and delivered a punishing uppercut to her solar plexus. She gritted her teeth and screamed in pain, her eyes burning with fury, her body refusing to shut down, continuing to fight at all costs. She slammed my ribs again with a brutal body blow, breaking the floating rib on the right side of my ribcage. A searing pain shot through me. I fought to stay standing. I smashed her face with a heavy right hand, she just fought through it and clobbered me with a one-two combo, sending me stumbling back.

Katya chased me down and continued to punish me with body blows, forcing me back into the corner. She pulverized my guts with industrial efficiency, like some kind of factory machine I had stumbled into. My rib was being jabbed into my internal organs again and again, and I had no choice but to cover my right. Had to protect my liver, which was more vulnerable now than ever before.

Katya continued to work me over, seeing that I was protecting the most valuable target above all else. She threw a few punches to the head, and I just ate them. I figured I could brace for that and avoid the crushing pain of a liver strike, and maybe I’d make it to the next round. I wasn’t getting out of this corner in one piece without hearing that bell ring. Katya slugged me in the face again, this time square in the nose, causing the bleeding to start again, a shock of pain shooting through my face as she continued raining down blows on me. I shuddered and did my best to stay upright.

Mercifully, the bell rang and George broke us up. Katya was clearly disappointed. Brian was concerned. He could see what was happening and was starting to worry that I would get seriously injured. I assured him I wanted to fight to the end and begged him not to throw in the towel, no matter what. Katya’s coach’s expression did not betray his excitement to see his fighter winning. He was focused as ever, and Katya’s expression matched his. This fight was getting ugly and there wasn’t much chance of us going the distance at this point. The question was, would she finish me, or would I find a way to knock her out? She would need to execute. I would need to reverse the momentum and take her by surprise.



The sixth was about to begin, and I was still flagging visibly. Katya looked battered but far from beaten. Her coach had cut her above her left eye to diminish swelling, and managed to minimize the bleeding as well. I was partially hunched over on my right, clearly in serious pain and protecting an extremely vulnerable target. All she had to do now was take me apart. I couldn’t let her get to me.

Our eyes met and we understood each other. She was going to end me this round. But I wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

The round began and she closed in on me like a hungry shark. I backpedaled around the ring, waiting for her to strike out. She threw wild jabs and hooks, using her range to strike out at distance. She made fleeting contact but her strikes weren’t achieving the desired effect. I dodged a punch and sidestepped, slugging her in the gut and evoking a stifled grunt, although she refused to lose her composure, brushing off a follow-up punch that I threw at her head. She was a warrior through and through. Outside of the ring, Katya seemed to delight in opening herself up to others, but here, she was a different being entirely. She understood there was a time and place for everything. It wasn’t personal to her. In here, vulnerability was simply not an option.

Katya absorbed my attacks and closed the distance with me, taking advantage of the fact that I had tried and failed to turn the tables on her. I kept my guard tight, keeping my hands up and my arms ready to shield my body if she went for it. My mental clarity was starting to suffer from the previous round, and my reaction time would be slowed. She hesitated for a moment, trying to read me before ultimately going fully on the attack.

She jabbed at me several times, then went low, throwing a shovel punch aimed for my liver, as I had expected. I crunched down on my right to shield myself. The impact radiated through my flesh and bones, ultimately absorbed by my arm. Undeterred, she rocked me with a series of straight punches to the face that stunned me momentarily. I caught myself and resumed my defense just in time to block a killer right hook that was meant for my jaw. She came again with a jab, I dodged it and socked her with a right cross, snapping her head back.

She rushed in and went for the clinch, and we went to work on each other’s bodies, each of us trying in futility to negate damage to our own bodies while taking advantage of the close range to punish the other with blows to the stomach and ribs. Katya sunk a gloved fist into my chest right below the solar plexus, nearly knocking the air out of me.

“Ughhh…” I returned the favor, throwing a jagged hook into her left kidney.

“Aaah!” She shrieked, slamming me several times, trying the liver again.

“Grrr…” I growled, refusing to let the damage get to me. She hadn’t quite hit the right button yet, and I wasn’t about to let that happen.

Katya was getting frustrated, and began trying to shove me off. I held on for dear life. The more she pushed, the more I pulled myself into her. I realized proximity was my friend in this situation. So did she. I knew that making her frustrated was my key to getting the opening I needed to score a knockout blow.

Finally, the sweat covering our bodies proved too much for me to maintain my grip, and Katya pushed me away, creating enough distance for her to launch a heavy haymaker at my skull. I sidestepped her, once again.

My fist collided head-on with Katya’s face as I ducked inside and launched a killer right cross that took her off balance and sent her to the canvas on her back. She thudded to the floor of the ring with a sound like dulled thunder, eliciting a low roar of “ooooh!” from the small crowd.

She lay spread eagle on her back, still conscious, but reeling from the blow. I was exhausted, putting my head between my knees to catch my breath before she could get back to her feet.

“One… Two… Three…” George started the count. She continued to lie there, obviously smarting from the direct impact. I could see her nose was bloodied, although it didn’t appear broken like mine.

“Four… Five…” Katya wiped the blood from her face with her arm, glared at me, and shakily got back to her feet. She seemed tired, like me, and shaken from that last exchange.

The bell rang, robbing her of a chance to get even. Robbing me of a chance to capitalize. Maybe we were on more equal footing now. We returned to our corners once more.

“Dude, that was amazing! You’re turning it around! Keep it up man, keep the pressure up. She’s frustrated. Use that to your advantage.”

“She’s not done yet. I think I just pissed her off.” I said.

“She can’t hit you any harder just because she’s pissed, remember that.”

“I hope you’re right.”



The seventh round began and it was like a whole different fight had begun. We were both cautious on the approach, knowing it could go either way this time. She darted in and out, trying to sting me with her ranged jabs. I would feint and dodge, then step in and tag her. She would chase me and try to punish me for it, I would try to catch her off balance. Back and forth. We had achieved a true dialogue.

The minutes went by without much change, but it felt like eternity trying to keep up with her. I was hurting due to my rib injury, and couldn’t breathe easily. I was starting to really get tired now. Her nose didn’t seem to be bothering her too much, except for the steady trickle of blood coming from her nostrils.

I met one her jabs with a counterpunch attempt, trying to reverse the pressure and send her on the back foot. This time, she dodged my shot and stepped in for a brutal uppercut to my stomach. I doubled over, and she pummeled me with hooks to my head as I tried desperately to protect myself. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t see, and now I was getting my skull rocked, one shot after another. I was seeing stars, literally. My concern wasn’t so much the pain as the feeling of darkness closing in from the peripheries.

I managed to staunch her assault and get back to an upright position, but I was hurting from that last combination. She rushed in again and I tried to stuff her with a jab, she just sidestepped it and nailed me in the gut again, once again causing me to double over. I kept my eyes open, trying to see the next punch coming. I crunched to the side to avoid another liver punch. She punished me for it with an uppercut that I was too slow to block.

SMACK! I fell to the canvass, face first, arms out in front of me. Every part of my body was exhausted, and now my head was starting to give up as well. George began the count.

“One…” In front of me I saw Katya’s bare feet, one flat and the other showing off her high arch, as she shifted weight onto one hip, waiting to see if I could get up.

“Two…” I watched her stride around the ring, swaying those hips as the crowd showered her in adoration.

“Three…” I couldn’t let it end this way. I needed to be the one standing when the dust settled. I wanted to see her humbled the way she had humbled me.

“Four…” I got my hands up under me, into a pushup position, and saw drool and blood pooling below my face on the canvas below. I had yet to summon the strength to rise from my prone position.

“Five…” I looked up again, and saw Katya again, looking at me, arms crossed. She wants to see if I’ll get up, or give up… I thought to myself.

“Six…” I channeled all of my strength to get to one knee. I heard a murmur from the crowd.

“Seven…” Wobbling, I shifted my weight as I brought my other foot up under me. I got to my feet and rose, slowly.

George looked at me, his eyes asking if I was ready. He looked to Brian. No towel.

“Box!”

Katya came at me and I fought her like I had nothing to lose. I knew I couldn’t hold her off, so I just threw myself into it. We thrashed each other with wild blows, both of us breathing raggedly through the rubber between our lips. Pushing against each other. Katya’s body was like iron draped in silk. Impenetrable. Irresistible. She socked me in my tenderized nose again as the bell rang, and we broke up again.

Unbelievable, I thought to myself. How am I still in this?

Katya’s eyes met mine once again. How are you still standing? She seemed to be asking me. Then I saw it. She wiped her forehead, and a big smile cracked across her face, just as she turned away from me to go to her corner. So, she was finally having fun.



Here we were, at the top of the eighth round. Katya looked more determined than ever. I’m sure I looked like I could have been knocked over by a stiff breeze, but I had my hands up in front of me nonetheless. Ever the competitor, I thought to myself.

The bell rang, and Katya closed the distance. She didn’t strike immediately, just bobbed her head and kept her gloves up, reading my intention.

I didn’t have much left to offer. No sophisticated tactics. I could barely stand, let alone punch. My frame rose and fell slowly with my breathing. I threw a slow jab, only for her to swat it away, almost dismissively. I threw a couple more, to a similar reception. Now I was just her plaything. I threw another punch and she just stepped in and tagged me in the stomach again, sending me in retreat, covering my aching abdomen. She chased me down, hitting me with a jab, then a cross, which left me dizzy, now not knowing what direction I was even facing.

I brought my gloves up, instinctively, then realized my mistake. I felt the unmistakable sensation of a knife entering my side, just under the ribs, and twisting. Katya had delivered a perfect shovel punch to my liver.

“Uuuaaaauugh!” I groaned, my knees buckling. My body was done. Somehow I was still on my feet, my legs refused to give out.

My vision went black. I was still there, though. I felt body blows continuing to rain down on me.

“Just go down, bastard!” I could have sworn I heard the muffled words through her mouth-guard.

I fell back into the turnbuckle, the only thing keeping me up at the time. She just kept hitting me, over and over, as I feebly tried to keep my hands up in front of me. I tried a last ditch effort, collapsing onto her, trying for a clinch. My gloved hands came to rest on her muscled shoulders, just for a couple seconds, then I felt her step back, away from me, and I could no longer stand. I crashed to the canvas with a thud.

My body was wracked with unimaginable pain, which I only truly began to feel once I fell. The release caused a cease in the flow of adrenaline, the only thing keeping me up after that brutal liver shot. I went into spasms as waves of pain surged through me. I could hear George starting the count, and wasn’t even thinking clearly enough to keep track of what the numbers meant.

“Five… Six…” Still, I couldn’t let myself give up. If there was any strength left in me, I would rise.

“Seven…” I punched into the canvas, trying to push myself up off the ground, but the rest of my body was not cooperating. My legs lay limply behind me.

“Eight…” I looked up, and saw my opponent studying me, stone faced. What’s it gonna be, big guy?

I dug into my last reserves of strength, trying to get my legs back under me.

“Nine…”

My arms failed, and my body gave out as I collapsed to the canvas again. I was thoroughly beaten. I cycled through emotions—shock, disbelief, humiliation, shame… I should have been the one to win this contest. Instead, she took me apart. How the hell had she gotten so strong? Or had she always been this strong, and I didn’t notice?

“Ten! That’s a knockout!” Katya raised her gloves, and walked to the center of the ring, to the cheers of her friends and fans. George raised her hand, and declared her the winner. They exchanged a few words, but I couldn’t tell about what exactly.

A moment later, I felt a bare foot pushing on my side, nudging me and turning me over onto my back. Katya stepped proudly onto my chest, flexing her muscles in several different positions to celebrate her victory. The feeling of her foot on my chest was turning me on like crazy. I hated being beaten like this, and I hated her displaying her dominance over me, but she had such beautiful feet, and I couldn’t help but enjoy it, now that the fight was over. I had lost, and I was beginning to accept my fate.

She then prodded my face with her foot again, as she had done last time. “Now you will be my slave for next three months,” she taunted, pushing her toes ever closer to my lips. Then a very serious expression came over her face as she looked down at me. “You really disappointed me. You need to fight better next time.” Then she got off of me and went back to her corner.

I wasn’t sure how to respond, not that I could. I hadn’t really seen this side of her before. What did she want from me? What was I to her? A friend, a rival, or some kind of plaything? Did she think less of me now?

The medic came into the ring and got me cleaned up, and she and Brian helped me get to my feet. Brian and I went back to the locker room and discussed my loss and how it all went down.

“In the seventh, you had a chance to take the momentum back, but she fought smarter. She was driving the conversation. That needs to be you next time.”

“Next time?”

“Yeah, you told me there was going to be a kickboxing match after this.”

“Oh, I don’t know man, after this? I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

“Dude, I know how you feel, OK. You lost to a woman. I get it. You feel like you’re not good enough. But I saw an amazing show out there. And you’re forgetting that she used to be a world champion kickboxer, and she’s practically the same size as you.”

“I just… I don’t know if I can put myself through this again. I don’t even know if I can show up for work next week… I don’t know if I can face her again…”

“Well, just… sleep on it. Remember, you have a few more months to train. I’ll take you through the whole thing—conditioning, techniques, drills, all of it. I’ll teach you everything you need to know to beat her next time. After watching this match, I really want to see you win.”

“Hey man… Thanks.”

“Promise me you’ll consider it.”

“…”

“Come on…”

“Alright, I’ll think about it.”




Later that night, I had gone back to my apartment, had a shower and grabbed a beer and was watching TV in my room. I was in a lot of pain. Trying to focus on breathing—I was told that was important to healing my ribs. My phone chirped a couple times, and I looked down to see that I had received a string of texts. From Katya.

Hey, Tom. Thinking about you right now

I enjoy our little match tonight. My friends enjoy too

Felt very good to fight hard again

Especially liked watching you try to beat count. Made me hot

Please don’t feel bad about losing... I am just better than you ☺ pls don’t take personally

But I need you to give more of a challenge next time


I thought about my response carefully. I typed a couple things, erasing each time.

Finally, I just responded,

I will.
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Last edited by Bi0mega; 01-May-18 at 13:02. Reason: duplicated text
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Old 01-May-18, 13:51
mech928 mech928 is offline
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Default Re: Closing Shift (mixed boxing)

That was awesome, great story. Can't wait for the next one.
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Old 01-May-18, 15:05
muarijun muarijun is offline
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Default Re: Closing Shift (mixed boxing)

its nice. I'm tired od uneven and unrealistic matched, the girl overpowering the guy witn no problem. This time the girl is a real fighter, she had to fight a hard battle to demostrate her supremacy. Good!!!!
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Old 04-Jun-18, 20:50
tonymontana tonymontana is offline
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Default Re: Closing Shift (mixed boxing)

When are you posting the next part? Eagerly waiting.
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Old 05-Jun-18, 00:25
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Default Re: Closing Shift (mixed boxing)

Great work here.Lots of effort on your part to establish character dynamics and back story. Loved her entrance to the ring and performance in the fight. I also enjoy the growing emotional strains between them...some character development there.

I look forward to your next installment!
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Old 09-Jun-18, 05:55
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Default Re: Closing Shift (mixed boxing)

Quote:
Originally Posted by tonymontana [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
When are you posting the next part? Eagerly waiting.
I took a short break from it a couple weeks ago, but I did start writing the next part. I wasn't sure how many people were waiting to read more, but now that I know a few people are interested to see what happens next, I'm sure I can set aside some time to finish the next couple chapters. Very glad to hear you enjoyed it!
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Old 09-Jun-18, 19:54
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Default Re: Closing Shift (mixed boxing)

dont lose interest mate. I, for one, really got into this story & almost had given up hope that it would be continued. your writing skills are superb & the quality of this story is among some pretty elite company when I think of how I rate it in comparison with some of my more favored pieces.
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Old 24-Jun-18, 22:43
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Default Closing Shift Chapter 3, Part I - The Tour

***This is an interlude that is part of the buildup to the next match in this series. For that reason, the content is a bit different than what you've seen in the last two chapters.***


I woke up Saturday morning with dull pain throbbing throughout my body. Mercifully, I could breathe through my nose, and the medic told me it should mostly heal in about a week. I had to avoid contact and wear a corrective strip over the bridge of my nose, though, for about a week, if I wanted it to heal properly.

Since I hadn’t died from my injuries, I was going to handle this the old-fashioned way, and let them heal on their own without going to see the doctor. One less person I’d have to explain myself to. Besides, it wasn’t like I hadn’t been through this before. The pain was familiar, like running into an old friend. I had my share of tough fights in the past, each one leaving me with wounds to nurse in the following weeks. This one, though, this one really stung. Not only was it a loss, but a brutal one. Not only that, it was a loss at the hands of a woman, a woman whom I desired.

Katya’s cold gaze was burned into my memory from that night. It was like she expected more from me. I remembered her cryptic words, “now you will be my slave for the next three months…” and I wondered what she had in store for me. Could it be that she intended to humiliate me beyond what we had agreed to?

After gradually coming to terms with my present reality, I knew I needed to get out of bed. I beckoned my unwilling body to force itself upward and out of bed, slowly standing up as I felt a series of unexpected aches surge through me.

I went into the kitchen to get myself some coffee and breakfast. I hadn’t slept well. I had somehow managed to avoid a concussion, but the hundreds of microtraumas from the night before were having their effect on my brain. I felt unusually spacy. First things first, I set the coffee to brew an extra strong batch.

“Morning, Rocky. Who was it this time, Ivan Drago?” I turned and looked through the kitchen window to see Jeff, sitting on the couch, reading a book in just his boxers. Typical.

“You could say that,” I retorted. She was Russian, after all.

“So, is Tyler Durden a real guy, or are you just doing this to yourself?”

“Alright, enough with the cute movie references.”

“No really, though. I’ve noticed this keeps happening on Friday nights. The last one was exactly three months ago. Is this a planned event, and if so, when are you gonna invite me?”

“Oh, so you’re not worried about my health anymore, bro?”

“If this is a hobby, it’s a dangerous one. But if it’s what you want to do to yourself, I’m not going to try and stop you.”

Ding dong! Just like last time. I knew it was her.

I went to the door as Jeff rushed to go put some pants on. I opened it to see my beautiful tormentor standing there again, this time dressed for warm weather. She wore a denim romper and dark blue Havianas flip-flops, as well as a wide brimmed blue sun hat and big eurotrash sunglasses. She cradled a clutch bag in one hand and held an iced latte in the other. I guess she was here to lord her victory over me, once again.

“Hi, Katya,” I said.

“Hello, Tom. Mind if I come in?” She said as she began pushing past me.

“Hey, wait, it’s not a good…” I said, trying weakly to keep her from inserting herself into my life.

“You know, it’s rude not to invite a friend into your home. I want a tour.” She had a point, and had me at a disadvantage. She knew I hadn’t filled Jeff in yet, and she was going to exploit that, somehow.

Katya kicked off her flip-flops in the doorway and took off her hat and shades as well. She looked incredible, showing off her best assets in an outfit that wasn’t overtly exhibitionist, but still managed to showcase her fit frame and her gorgeous legs quite effectively. Jeff emerged from his room, this time looking a bit more presentable, dressed in jeans and a short-sleeved button down shirt.

“Katya, this is Jeff, he’s a friend from college and my roommate.”

“Hi, nice to meet you,” Jeff said, extending his hand. “So, you and Tom work together?”

“Yes, we make good team. Sometimes I beat him up, though…” She said, winking at me and playfully punching my shoulder.

“Oh, yeah? Things get rough over at the coffee shop, huh?”

“Coffee… shop?” Katya mumbled, seeming confused, then realizing that she knew something Jeff did not. He hadn’t put the clues together yet, but he could figure it out at any moment.

“Katya’s also in this punk band, she’s pretty awesome.”

“Oh yeah? What do you play? What’s your band called?”

“I sing. We’re called KO-Baby.”

“Oh, cool name,” Jeff said, oblivious in the face of another clue. “I play the drums, you know. Just in case you ever need someone. Tom plays guitar, too. And he sings. He’s pretty good.”

“Jeff, come on… Katya, sorry,” I deferred, embarrassed by my friend’s attempt to make us seem cool.

“No, it’s cool! Tom, I want to hear you play a song! Before I go, will you play me a soooooong?” She cooed, looking at me with puppy dog eyes.

“Eh, I don’t know… I don’t really have anything prepared…”

“Come on… I want to hear you sing. After tour.”

“OK, I’ll think about it.”

I showed Katya around our modest apartment in about 5 minutes, allowing her to curiously examine every random little item on the shelves, picking up books, movies, party games, and other random crap we had collected over the years. Finally, we reached the place I dreaded most—my room.

“So, this is my room…” I said, gesturing vaguely and cracking the door open. It was a mess in there, and there were some things in there that I really didn’t want her to see.

“Tom, don’t be shy, I want to look around,” she said, pushing past me again. I couldn’t help but follow her in, wondering what she had planned for me. Jeff saw where things were going and gave us some space.

“It’s so messy in here, do you never clean? How do you live?” She said, looking around at the clothes strewn all across the floor, and the bed. Random items littered the dresser. I had my PS4 set up on the opposite wall from the bed with a medium-sized TV, and there was a bookshelf in the corner stacked with old books, of which I had only read about half. She immediately gravitated toward it.

“Hmm… let’s see… You know you can tell a lot about someone from their books. Let me see…” She ran her finger along the shelves, stopping at an old copy of Ulysses that I had picked up for a dollar at a local bookstore.

“Have you read this?”

“Ah, no… I tried, but I’ve always had trouble getting into classic literature.”

“Hmm… you have a lot of books that you haven’t read, then?”

“Kind of a bad habit, I guess.”

“Ooh… what about these?” She said, noticing a colorful series of manga on the bottom shelf. “Real Bout High School?”

“Ah, guilty pleasure from my youth,” I said, blushing at the mere mention of the title. I hadn't read manga for about a decade, but never had the heart to get rid of that one. “Hard to find now, actually.” I was mortified.

“There’s a lot of action, it seems. I prefer shoujo comic myself,” she said, winking.

“Hah, you read manga? You might like that one. It’s about a girl who gets into street fights. She has a male rival, actually. Kind of a romance but not really.”

“Haha. So perhaps this tells something about you, then. Tell me, who wins?”

“Well, they go back and forth…”

“Hm… But eventually, one of them has to surpass the other.”

“I guess you have a point. Can’t remember how it ends.”

Katya put the manga back on the shelf. She glanced around the room a bit more, not finding anything that immediately grabbed her attention. Then her eyes settled on me.

“Tom, sit down.” I looked around, and she looked towards the bed.

“Sit,” She said again, pushing me down onto the bed, asserting her dominance. Perhaps this was part of our new arrangement? My eyes betrayed my confusion.

“Remember, I am your mistress. You are my slave. Do as I say.”

“I don’t remember this being part of the agreement,” I complained.

“But don’t you see? It is part of agreement. I am stronger, so you must do as I say.”

Katya leaned in close to me, letting her hair down, bringing her face close to mine. I could feel her warm breath on my ear as she whispered, “Take off your shirt.”

I complied, pulling my t-shirt off over my head, despite the pain in my nose as it brushed over my face.

“First rule: you do as I command. Second rule: I can touch you any way I want, but you can’t touch me, unless I tell you to. Now, take off shorts.”

I slid my shorts off and they fell to the floor, leaving me naked except for a pair of form-fitting boxer briefs. Katya’s hands glided over my skin, caressing me and exploring my bruised body. She turned around, went to the door and turned the lock. Effortlessly, she unzipped herself from her romper, stepping out of it and revealing her sculpted body, dressed in only a set of dark purple lingerie bra and panties, which displayed a considerable volume of her breasts and butt. She bent over, pushing her rump out with her back straight as a board, her arms dangling to the floor, almost as if warming up for something. She rose back to standing straight and caressed her legs with her hands.

“Tom, do you like what you see?” I nodded as my cock stiffened in my briefs, bulging out at an awkward angle. Katya moved in closer again, resting a knee on the bed as she straddled my lap, with her right hand on my left shoulder and her left hand fondling my junk. My face was a breath away from her cleavage, which was practically bursting out of her lacy, half-cut C-cup bra. She ran her fingers through my hair, tousling it and grabbing my head from behind. She positioned me as if moving in for a kiss, but stopped just short.

“You are quite handsome boy, Tom, do you know that? I’m so glad you’re mine… to do with as I please.” She spoke the words directly into my slack-jawed mouth. I was half expecting her to make good on her words and kiss me, but she pushed me onto my back instead.

“Lie down, on the bed, boy.” I scooted back to a more comfortable position, with my head on the pillow.

Katya climbed over me, straddling my cock, placing a hand on my bruised chest. She ran her finger down to my navel, her head also running the length of my abdomen. I felt the wet sensation of her tongue licking my abs starting from my waistline and progressing up to my solar plexus. Her hand slid into my briefs, and I felt the incredible sensation of her gripping firmly onto my junk and stroking up and down my shaft.

“This is mine now. Your cock belongs to me.” I didn’t know what to say to that. “I love grabbing a man’s cock after I defeat him. It is a symbol of his weakness. I will show you what I mean now.”

I couldn’t really complain that Katya was having her way with me. I had wanted her from the moment I met her. I wanted her even more after sparring with her. But this wasn’t quite how I had imagined it.

She slid my briefs off, down my legs and over my ankles, casually tossing them across the room. Katya sat down on me again, grinding on my cock as she leaned back, this time rubbing her bare feet on my chest, then my face. Walking through the city in flip-flops, and then through my apartment barefoot, had left them pretty dirty, though no less beautiful. As she had done before, she began pushing her toes into my mouth.

“Lick them clean.” She ordered, and I hesitated. She grabbed my balls and twisted.

“Ugh!!” I grimaced in pain.

“Do as I say, or you will regret it! If you’re good, I will reward you soon.”
I did as she commanded, sucking and licking her feet, between her toes, under her soles and arches. I was conflicted. I couldn’t decide which feeling would prevail—my arousal, or disgust.

Katya continued grinding on me, getting hotter and wetter as she continued tormenting me, moaning with pleasure and self-satisfaction in her subjugation of her male opponent. She straddled me again, this time, sliding her panties down, reaching back and balling them up in one hand. She brought her face close to mine, letting strands of her hair fall across my face as she held her wadded up panties in front of me.

“Oh no, look what you’ve done. These are all wet now. Why don’t you wash them for me?” She said, and she stuffed them into my mouth, pushing me back down to the pillow.

“Mmph!” I grunted, beginning to form some kind of protest.

“You can’t take them out until I say so.” She ordered. “Now, let’s see how good you are at holding your breath.”

Katya turned around and straddled my head, lowering her cunt directly onto my nose and mouth, her ass cheeks directly over my eyes, as she cradled my head between the soles of her feet. Muffled grunts and groans barely escaped from below her womanhood, the vibrations clearly adding to her pleasure.

“Yes, very good, I like this. Please, moan all you want, scream as loud as you can. Nobody can hear you,” she whispered. I was having trouble getting any air, between her wadded panties stuffed into my mouth, and my nose trapped beneath her ass. I wondered how long she would let me go without a breath.

Once again, I felt Katya’s firm grip around my member, followed by the hot wetness of her breath, taunting me.

“Let’s play a game. First prize, if I cum first, I let you go, then I finish you with my mouth. Second prize, if you cum first, I’ll ride you until I do too—whether or not you can breathe or lose consciousness. Third prize, you go unconscious from smothering—I’ll ride you until I get off, and I’ll make you cum in your sleep.”

“Mphh,” I said.
“Ready? Go!”
Katya resumed grinding on me, moving up and down my lips in a steady rhythm, stroking up and down my cock with a palm wet with saliva.

“Mmmnn, that’s a good boy,” she said, rocking back and forth. She crossed her legs behind my head, bending down and running her tongue up and down my shaft. Now she was using her legs to grind my face into her cunt, while using her mouth to stimulate me as well. I could feel the power in her hamstrings as she contracted her muscular legs, pushing me deeper and deeper into her, finding my lips with her clitoral hood. I would normally use my tongue in this situation, but I was gagged by her underwear and wasn’t able to get it far enough out of my mouth.

The pain in my nose was brutal. She wasn’t directly crushing it, but it was so tender that any touch felt like fire. I couldn’t really breathe through it easily to begin with, either, so being smothered under her taut ass made it impossible for me to get any breath.

Katya’s wetness covered my mouth, and I had to admit—I liked the taste. Meanwhile, the wetness from her mouth on my cock was getting me close as well.

“Oh, yes, yes, that’s good…” she moaned, taking a break from pleasuring me to focus on her own enjoyment. It was hard to hear her words from between those legs, but I got the basic idea.

I was starting to run out of air, and Katya seemed to be taking her sweet time nearing orgasm. I realized pretty soon I would suffocate, and I had no intention of letting that happen.

I grabbed Katya by her butt cheeks and summoned all of my strength to try to hoist her up and off of my face, if only to get a little breath.

“Ugh! How dare you?” She grunted, furious that I interrupted her.

Before I could get her off of me, she locked her thighs around my head and squeezed. I tried to pry her off of my neck, but her legs were so much stronger than my arms would ever be.

“You will pay for that!”

Katya squeezed me until my face was bright purple, veins bulging from all over, and before I knew it my consciousness had faded from me. I blacked out, only to be awakened after a while by the incredible sensation of being brought to orgasm by her mouth. She was in roughly the same position as before, although she had let go of me, and was eagerly working my cock with her mouth, sucking up my cum as I pulsed with the feeling of sweet release.

I could barely understand what had happened, when she turned around, removed her panties from my mouth, and pressed her lips against mine. A devilish smile formed on her face.

I felt my stomach turn in disgust as I came to the sudden realization that she had just fed me a mouthful of my own jizz. I tried to get up and spit it out, but she had me pinned.

“Swallow.” She commanded.

I gave her a look of defiance, but it didn’t seem to phase her.

“Swallow, boy.” She ordered, holding my mouth shut firmly with one hand.

Without any other options, I was forced to concede to her. I obeyed, and another smile crept over her face as she saw my Adam’s apple bob up and down.

“Now you know what that is like, haha. Remember, I am in control. I will keep reminding you of that, unless you are able to prove otherwise…” She got up and got dressed again, slipping back into her romper and zipping up.

“What the fuck is the matter with you? Why are you doing this?” I demanded.

“Because! It’s fun! You don’t think so?” Katya’s demeanor turned from coquettish to dour as she sensed that I hadn’t enjoyed our last little misadventure.

“If you tell anyone about what we are doing, I will make you regret it,” She said.

I cocked my head, trying to understand what she meant. She grabbed her phone off the table across from my bed, and played me the video she had just taken.

“Fine, I won’t talk.” I sighed, defeated.

“Tom, please don’t be sad. I want my slave to be happy,” she said, touching my cheek. “Besides, you will have another chance to get even. If you can win next fight, you can have me… any way you want.”

Katya looked away, then chuckled to herself.

“But, I think I will win that fight too. I can’t wait to show you more fun games!”
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See my heart is ruled by Venus, and my head, by Mars
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Old 25-Jun-18, 02:03
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Default Re: Closing Shift (mixed boxing)

Loving the development of and details to this story!! If it goes for awhile longer I do hope we get to see the contrast of maledom and his master/slave mentality. Both characters have so much depth to them thank you for sharing this story with us!
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