Boxing Domination (PG)

It was supposed to be a pleasant weekend getaway in the
mountains. I was a senior in college, and my roommate Brad
was heading to his girlfriend's family cabin with some friends to
relax and get away from it all. Kimberly, Brad's sweet girlfriend,
invited me along. In addition to the three of us there were three
other people there: two girls from Kimberly's sorority and her
older sister Jill. Jill was nearly thirty and had recently undergone
a messy, painful divorce. As a result, she was living at home
with her parents, and Kimberly had asked her to come even
though she was eight years older than the rest of us, to help her
relax and take her mind off her many stresses.

Unfortunately, Brad proved to be a new stress for Jill. From the
moment we arrived, Brad was needling her about this or that.
I'm not sure why; maybe it was because Brad was basically a
jerk. I mean, he was my roommate and all, but it's no surprise
that it was Kimberly who invited me. He had a tendency to forget
I was even there unless he needed something.

So as we played croquet before lunch on Saturday, Brad
amused himself by "sending" Jill's ball three times, ensuring
that she came in last. As we all gathered in the kitchen a little
later to prepare lunch, Brad made a few comments about Jill's
apparent lack of culinary skill. "I guess that's why you couldn't
stay married," he quipped. She smiled and tried to laugh it off,
but I could tell it hurt. Later in the day, as we sat outside and
sipped drinks in the shade, the conversation turned towards our
futures, since five of us were about to graduate college. "Of
course, we could just all live with our parents when we're thirty,"
Brad joked. Nobody laughed, and Jill left to go to the bathroom.
Kimberly chastised him, but he didn't care. Brad didn't mind
laughing at his own jokes.

After dinner we were sitting in the spacious living room of the
cabin, drinking once again, when one of Kimberly's sorority
sisters discovered a large closet. "Look at all this stuff!" she
said, dragging toys and games out. "Here's Monopoly…and
look! A kite! Too bad it's getting dark or we could go fly it."

By this time Kimberly and the other sorority sister were both
helping pull old items from the closet. "Here's a jump rope,"
said the other girl. "I remember that!" exclaimed Kimberly.

"Cool!" the first girl suddenly shouted. "Boxing gloves!" She held
out two sets of Everlast boxing gloves for us all to admire.

"Why in the world does your family have boxing gloves in your
cabin?" I asked Kimberly.

"I have no idea," said Kimberly. Jill shrugged her shoulders. In
the meantime the two sorority sisters had slipped the gloves on
and were dancing around, trying to whack each other. They were
quite silly, and we all laughed. Neither was in any danger from
the other.
Brad couldn't stand being out of the spotlight for so long. "Good
God," he said in disgust. "That's not how you box. Here, give me
those." He walked toward one of the sorority sisters who
obviously didn't want to relinquish her set of gloves but did so
anyway.

Assuming the voice of authority, Brad began to lecture us all on
the art of boxing as he tried to lace up his gloves. Kimberly
helped him.

"So who wants to spar a few rounds with me?" he asked. I
quickly shook my head, knowing how competitive Brad gets.
Whether he wins or loses, he's no fun when any kind of
competition is involved. The sorority girls both said they wanted
to fight each other, not him. Kimberly was just about to agree to
box with him if he promised not to hurt her when suddenly Jill
piped up.

"I'll box with you," she said.

"Come on, Jill," Brad sneered. "I wouldn't want to hurt an old
lady."

Jill walked forward, her eyes smoldering. I stared at her as she
pulled the other pair of gloves on. She was only eight years
older than the rest of us, but those years had taken a toll.
Nevertheless, she was pretty attractive—her scarlet lipstick
matched her fingernails and toenails, and she had on tasteful
amounts of mascara and rouge. She wore a white halter top
and matching shorts that showed her body's ample curves. Jill
wasn't a small woman, though not an amazon either by any
means.

Brad insisted on having Kimberly tape his gloves on, "like the
pros," he kept saying, while Jill didn't seem overly concerned
about hers even being tied that tightly. Once Brad was ready the
two faced each other in the middle of the room. It looked pretty
silly: big, athletic Brad taunting this curvy but non-athletic looking
woman.

As Brad hammed it up and stuck out his chin, Jill let fly a punch.
She lived up to the expression "you punch like a girl," but
nevertheless the blow caught Brad squarely in the nose and
made him step back a bit. Quickly he laughed it off and thrust
his chin forward again, daring Jill to repeat the punch. She tried
but he dodged…once, twice, three times he made her miss. He
began to make comments about her bouncing chest, which
made Jill turn red, but she kept missing with her wild punches.

Soon Brad did the tired old trick of putting one of his hands on
Jill's forehead, holding her at arms length. She windmilled
several punches that fell short. He was laughing hysterically, but
nobody else thought it was that amusing. In fact, I was about to
suggest that we find another pastime when suddenly Jill swatted
Brad's arm away with her left glove and stepped forward with a
beautiful straight right hand into Brad's nose.

It was a lucky punch, but effective. Not expecting the blow, Brad
had been standing flatfooted, and Jill's punch knocked him off
his feet. As he fell, his head bounced off a table. Brad
scrambled to his feet quickly but he was obviously in pain. He
rushed at Jill and smashed a fierce blow, not into her face, but
into her chest. She yelped and doubled over. "Take that, bitch,"
Brad barked at her, rubbing the back of his head. From her
knees, Jill swung her right glove upward straight into his groin.
Now Brad dropped to his knees while Jill stood up. He grunted
obscenities at her until she punched him on the back of his
head, sending him to the hard wood floor.

Pouncing on his back, Jill sent punches raining down on the
back of his head. While the force of her blows themselves
probably didn't do major injury, each blow battered his face
against the wood floor.

It's not easy to keep Brad down, though, and soon he pushed
his way to his hands and knees and rolled Jill off. She scurried
away and then made a decisive move: she put her right fist into
her armpit and pried off her boxing glove, then repeated the
maneuver for her left hand. Now her hands were free—and she
wasted no time in using this advantage. While Brad struggled to
get to his feet, Jill wrapped her fingers through his hair and
jerked him forward, shaking his head violently back and forth as
she did. He tried to resist but she had the leverage. Jill pulled
him around the room, keeping him off balance, and finally threw
him face down on the floor. As he tried again to climb to his feet,
awkwardly because of his gloves, Jill seized the hair on his
forehead with her left hand and forced his face upward, then
smashed her right fist into his chin. He collapsed on the floor.

For the last several moments the other four of us had watched in
shock. Kimberly grew nearly hysterically upset, seeing her
boyfriend and sister hurting each other, and she had been
hovering near them, wanting to intervene but unsure how. I
surprised myself in that I was cheering Jill on, glorying in the
beating she was giving Brad. And the two sorority sisters had
actually been screaming encouragement to Jill.

Brad now looked like a wild animal as he started to rise once
again. The look of determination and hatred on his face was
truly scary. Jill looked confident as she stood over him, waiting
to strike him again, her polished nails standing out against her
clothing as she had her hands on her hips, her ample bosom
heaving as she breathed in excitement.

But this time Brad lunged from his knees and tackled her. They
wrestled for advantage, and I assumed that Jill had had it; Brad
was so much bigger it didn't seem she would have a chance.
But wearing the boxing gloves, he was unable to grab hold of Jill.
She, meanwhile, was able to scratch, grab, pinch, squeeze,
claw, and otherwise abuse Brad with her long fingers and sharp
nails. Moreover, she used her legs as weapons, first kicking
him as the rolled around on the floor, and then wrapping them
around his midsection and holding him at bay.

Within a minute of his knocking Jill to the floor, she had
managed to gain a decisive advantage over Brad. He was on
his back, helpless, as she sat on his chest, her fleshy thighs
pinning his arms to his sides. Brad could only kick his legs
feebly as Jill squeezed his chin with her left hand, digging her
nails into his skin, and leisurely smashed his face with punches
from her right hand. They weren't that hard, since she really
didn't know how to punch that well, but the cumulative effect of
these and the other blows she had already landed was to knock
him nearly unconscious and cause the right side of his face to
have become red and swollen. His lips and nose trickled blood.

"Please, Jill, stop!" Kimberly managed to sob. These words
seemed to wake Jill up, as though she hadn't realized what she
had been doing. I think all of us were caught up in the
surrealness of the situation. Jill stood up, straddling the
semi-conscious Brad. She looked at her distraught sister and
quietly apologized.

Always the asshole, even in defeat, Brad, from his position on
the floor between Jill's legs, began cursing. "You bitch," he spat,
"I'm going to hurt you bad. And your sister, too. Kimberly, why
the hell did you just watch? You're both bitches!" As he spoke,
he had raised himself to his elbows and he suddenly sent a
punch into Jill's crotch, much as she had punched his groin
earlier. She recoiled backward in pain.

Perhaps it took this moment to realize how awful her boyfriend
really was. At any rate, Kimberly's allegiance to her sister, and
not to Brad, became clear. She leapt forward and tried to strike
Brad. Instead he partially blocked the blow and, from his knees,
punched back, catching her in the stomach, doubling her over. I
moved forward to help her but I was too late.

Kimberly's sorority sisters came to her rescue before I could
intervene. Small and prissy, perhaps, they nevertheless moved
in from either side and somehow each managed to twist one of
his arms behind his back. Together they held him, despite his
struggles, with his arms bent into a painful double hammerlock.
He spat cursed at him as they dug their fingernails into his upper
arms. "Come on, girls," one of them shouted to Kimberly and
Jill.

Kimberly stood in front of him, eying her now former boyfriend, as
he squirmed defiantly but helplessly in the grasp of her two
friends. Thump! She sent a fist into his stomach. "That's for
forgetting my birthday," she said. Thump! THUMP!! She struck
him twice more, this time hitting his solar plexus. "That's for
never trying to satisfy me in bed," she said as he gasped and
wheezed, sucking madly but getting no air. If the sorority sisters
hadn't been holding his arms he would have collapsed to the
floor. Thump! Kimberly struck him again. "That's for leaving me
alone last Friday night." He groaned and began to beg, quietly,
pathetically, for mercy. But Kimberly had none. After five or ten
more punches to his body, she stepped aside, massaging her
hands and wrists.

Now Jill stepped forward. Brad had sagged to his knees, but the
sorority girls still had his arms hammerlocked so he couldn't fall
forward. Jill stood over him, holding his chin once again in her
left hand. She forced him to look up at her. The sight is burned
into my mind: two small college girls holding my big athletic
roommate's arms behind his back as this older woman drove
her scarlet fingernails into his cheeks and talked down to him. A
look of satisfaction shone on her lipsticked lips, a look of victory
twinkled in her mascaraed eyes, and a look of humiliation and
defeat lay on his swollen face.

With one final blow, Jill knocked Brad out. The girls finally let his
arms go and allowed him to slide to the floor unconscious. The
four of us stared at him for a moment and then looked around at
each other. Jill and Kimberly embraced in a hug, overcome with
sisterly emotion.

The two sorority girls glanced at each other, then at me, and then
smiled deviously. "Intergender boxing is a great sport!" one of
them yelled, and the both fell to their knees and quickly began
pulling one set of boxing gloves off Brad's slumbering form.
"Don't go anywhere," the other girl said, staring straight at me.
"This pair is for you! Brad warmed them up for you!"

It turned out to be a long night. Painful at times…but the stuff
dreams are made of.