Delightful-Minx

A dull ringing in my ears coupled with the sharp sting of a leather bound fist meeting my face, reminds me leaving my guard a little open was a bad idea as I was currently on the wrong side of an exchange. My eyes wince shut just long enough for her to slip inside, and at a moment's notice my teeth bare into my mouthguard forcfully as my head is jerked up from behind my guard by a stiff uppercut to my chin. Being a switch boxer, or what most consider a masochist, it takes a lot to pull off correctly, and IT CAN backfire depending on the type of opponent you have. If you aren't fighting blind, by the 3rd round you start to pick up on the rhythms and tendencies of your opponent. Figuring out their patterns, favorite punches, dominant hand etc. Knowing your opponent can be fun for a switch like me, turns out though, for this particular fight, she was an opportunist. The sharp shove of her uppercut put me off balance enough to take a few steps back, losing focus of where my guard was and earning me a shot to the nose. I groan in familiar pain as I kissed her glove yet again, feeling the stiff shot of leather knock my head back with force, appropriately making my eyes water up in response. It doesn't take long before my back touches the ropes and while I try to blink my tears away, her fist plants my ass right where it secretly has been craving to be since we started this thing 5 rounds ago. My entire head jolts over my shoulder, losing a spatter of warm sweat off my bruising face and a spew of bloodied spit from my parted lips. The familiar boundary of the ring catches me and supports my weight, keeping me upright as my bell continues to get rung. Part of me wants to guard up while the other is asking for more, my body decides for me however as a low shot to my abs bends me over and nearly makes me spit my mouthpiece. The sounds of the crowd begin to dull out and fade while the visage of her gets a little wonky, coming into focus just before her lovely red boxing gloves kiss my lips and cheeks. My warm sweat and crimson mixed spittle smears over the ends of her gloves, making them glossy and adding to the messy look of my battered cute face each time they smash into me........It's satisfying as hell. Its almost an out-of-body experience now as I can viaualize how I must look to the roaring crowd, letting me know how badly I'm being worked over at this particular moment of the fight. The crowd gets on their feet as she scores a clean 5 punch combo on me just as I decide to start fighting back. Trading a low jab to her ribs while a stray punch of hers to my sweat kissed breasts changed my focus on choking back a moan and instinctively dropping my hands to cover my chest rather than protect what's still recognizable of my face. The knockout combination comes next, she jabs the center of my face to set me up before jerking my head left then right. My gloves lift back up to my face but echoed grunts belt loose from my bloody lips now as I feel her take the fight downstairs. My entire body jerks roughly against the ropes while I'm forced to watch her pump her perfect looking red gloves into my taught reddened abs, left then right, alternating hooks.........then left, an uppercut that lifts me to my toes and nearly folds me in half. I weakly reach out to clinch with her as the air is forced from my lungs. Then the coup de grace, after being shoved back against the ropes to straighten me out, an overhand right clocks my left eye hard and seemingly puts my lights out as my hair whips around and sweat cascades into the air. The ringing in my ears offset the deafening cheers of our fans, all of them now watching me lay face down on the canvas, adding a new stain to it while I pant heavily and leave my crimson mark, forever staining where she laid me out. I don't even need to be facing up to know the shadow of the ref is what was hovering over me, and the aggressive vibrations no doubt came from arguing with my cocky opponent to get her ass to a neutral corner while she taunted me. I've been beaten hard and taken on everything this league could offer, but the one thing that kills your opponent's confidence more than dropping them on their ass, is showing them how you can happily take their best, go down even and get right back up. I can't exactly hear the count, but I can make an educated guess while I watch the wompy looking shadow stretch out over me each time the ref counts to a new number. In 3 counts I'm up on all fours, in 3 more I'm on a knee, and just before they could get to the end I'm back up and grinning. My experience in this specific scenario lends itself to keeping me perfectly balanced and following the ref's orders even if I wasn't able to exactly hear them clearly right now. Knowing the way this usually goes, I hold out my gloves as she reached for them and stepped towards her steadily to show I was ready and more than willing to continue. She steps away and retrieves my bloody mouthguard, taking it to my second to rinse off, leaving me just enough time to torment my soon-to-be punching bag. I smile at her, letting her see me all busted up and swollen, dripping blood on my once white top and wearing my bruises like a badge of honor, reveling in her unease toward me beating the count. I part my lips to accept my mouthpiece, slugging my head once or twice to help shake loose the last of the cobwebs, glaring at her through swollen eyes, undeterred and ready to repay her for the enjoyment I got to feel while she outboxed me. Because the thing about cornering a switch boxer, if you can't hit them hard enough to knock the jobber side of them out cold, when they pick themselves up off the canvas.....a certain trait about them, tends to switch ;)

Deafening cheers..........hissing breaths leaving battered lips..........squeaking ring shoes against the canvas..........Iabored panting breaths.........pained grunts.........creaking leather gloves..........and best of all, leather thudding against leather or wet slapping sounds of boxing gloves striking flesh. On the recieving end of a combination of all this was a weary boxer, bloodied and badly swollen, hardly able to see out of the one eye that wasn't closed. Trails of bloody spittle left her lips and sweat shook loose from her face and ends of her hair as she leaned against the ropes and tried to stay on her feet. Her gloves came up to guard after her poor nose took another straight, smearing crimson all along the front padding of her opponent's white glove, marking the amount of damage she had done to her. A whimper left her lips next after a hook crashed into her closed swollen eye, cutting it near her brow and adding to the mixture of stains at her feet, crimson trickling down the side of her face as well as both nostrils and a busted bottom lip. The 10 second timer went off and she tried to cover up, groaning audibly as she bent over her opponent's gloves as they sunk into her exposed midsection, stealing what little air remained in her lungs and leaving her too weak to even hold her gloves up past her large voluptuous chest. A left hook brought the crowd to their feet, a right cross practically finished the job with swelling her other eye shut........another pair of jabs hit her nose and finally a sharp uppercut to the point of her chin turned her legs to jelly and sent her mouthpiece skyward. Down she went, crumbling to the canvas right before the bell, landing with a thud at her opponent's feet and falling into a deep slumber, completely dominated in her very first fight.......losing in only 3 rounds.......a feeling she cherished as that final shot to her chin seemed to cause a different sort of stain to dampen the form fitting trunks she had on, falling victim to a satisfying orgasm........she wore a smile on her face, gladly accepting her first boxing match by way of a Knockout loss, just one of what was to be many many more. And as the ref counted her out under the watchful eyes of the cheering crowd, the only thought she had as she fell into a slumber was, "I can't wait to do this again..."

DING! DING!! DING!!! I drop my arms and let out a frustrated scoff, the air sputtering loose a few small droplets of blood from my parted lips as the ref had rushed in to force us apart. Heading back to my corner after that shit show, what a fucking joke this round was.......and I'M the one who loses points to it?!? My second removes my mouthguard and towels me off, and already I'm pissed all over again when I see the blood stains on the towel. I don't wince but once while she's working on the fresh cut above my left eye, losing me with her advice as I stare daggers across the ring at the bitch that just opened it after an "accidental" headbutt. She was where I wanted her, trapped and panicked in the corner, I had her and she knew it! Right as the ref was moving in closer to see if he needed to waive it off or not, a quick clinch took a turn for the worse for me. Just a few more seconds of solid pummeling and he would have declared a TKO, but of course she lunged at me. With my back to the ref, she managed to annoy me again with her damn hair getting in my face as she kept shoving the top of her head into my lips and making them split before she snuck in a headbutt when she shifted her weight to push off of me. To the crowd it must have looked like I got hit by a truck when they saw the blood, batting 2 solid hooks upstairs to cover up what she did while I'm wincing on the backfoot. Of course I ended up on my ass, and as hot as it made me I shot right back up to argue instead of taking time to properly recover. That was so stupid! I played right into her hand after that, eating jabs and crosses to try and get in close. Looking to end the fight quick by picking up where I had left off and practically handing her the lead. I never even felt when she got in low to me, our legs seemingly getting tangled up as I rushed her and caught a quick shove from a clean uppercut at my chin. Took a tumble when she sidestepped and made sure to keep her foot in the way for me to trip over, it had to look real didn't it? The ref sure bought it. Moved in real quick to start counting me out AGAIN. Then I lose my temper, arguing with him again instead of taking out my frustration on her with my damn fists. Screaming at her and shoving her away, earning a deduction after she kept spearing my chest with her shoulders each time we charged inside. The whole fight she's been doing this and now it hurts just to breathe deep. Then........a slap from my second brings me out of my thoughts, and a rush of cold water at my back cools me down and gets me to focus up. I get scolded first for trying to beat her in a street fight, but then I'm ordered to get out there and just fucking box. My second is right, the only reason she's cheating is because she can't stand toe to toe with me. She's terrible at countering, and at avoiding them. That straight that nearly broke her nose in the second round would have been easy enough to slip if she had decent footwork. The crosses that gave her that puffy black eye she's wearing would have been simple to avoid if she kept her guard up. Same with my hooks bruising her jawline. Even after keeping the lead on points with me being pissed off, she's running out of gas, and tricks. She's bleeding, panting and drinking wayy too much water right now. If I follow where that water is going, a few well placed punches should cause a really painful cramp and open her up.......and if I play my cards right, with a little planned maneuvering, I can keep her on her feet for a few more to turn out her lights. I rinse and spit after catching my breath, parting my lips to accept my mouthguard after seconds are ordered out. I've got targets to aim for, I'm in better shape, and I've got 5 more rounds with this bitch. Back on my feet I get my gloves up and lightly bounce, watching how she's more flat footed and sluggish, glaring angrily to let her see that she can fight dirty all she wants and it won't stop me from charging at her with everything I have. I've taken her best on the chin and I'm still standing, she hasn't even tasted mine. By the end of this match, she'll wish she had just fought fair. Things seems to die down into perfect silence as I block out everything but my task at hand. The crowd get muffled, the feeling of sweat running down my body and face goes numb, and everything blurs out of my field of vision except my blue gloved opponent. Everything seems out of alignment, until a familiar sound snaps them back together and demands violent revenge. DING! DING!!

PISHH!! Having her hurt against the ropes after a solid shot to her jaw had me feeling like a charged battery, eager to let loose the power I had been saving over the course of the last 4 rounds. Finally gaining ground on her my left darts out, jabbing her right in the center of her face, tagging her sore nose and drawing more crimson from her right nostril and bottom lip, prompting her to cover up and weather the storm. My hands begin to fly on their own with little effort on my end, muscle memory and hard training kicking in as they target any and all openings I can find. My thick leather fists thud loudly, slamming into her harder and harder still, each one marking where my glove had kissed her last. Grunts from her bulged lips drew me in closer, boosting my confidence when I see her guard opening up. I lunge in, catching a glimpse of her cute battered face and exposed chin, an angered glare, her glossy blood kissed mouthpiece poking between her soft lips then finally, the photo finish. Flashbulbs capturing the moment. A rough shove of glossy red leather to her chin, sweat spattering off her glistening welts and bruises, long strings of bloody spit past her lips, her ejected mouthpiece and me the dominant boxer. Her eyes shut and her body goes limp. KO