{"loaderData":{"4":{"story":{"id":"d91fccc6-ea19-4e46-9d8b-37a29593beea","seriesId":null,"seriesName":null,"currentUserId":"00000000-0000-0000-0000-000000000000","added":"2026-03-07T16:40:47.394Z","title":"Rambo Rachel Gets Laid on the Canvas","slug":"rambo-rachel-gets-laid-on-the-canvas","shortId":"LchaVzER","authorNote":null,"disclaimer":null,"type":"Short","paidUrl":null,"synopsis":"Rambo Rachel, a university student, finds herself in a unique situation at a boxing club where she's both a curiosity and a target for the male members. Her topless sparring sessions and a nude bout with Ian have made her a local legend. One day, a young man named Harvey pulls down his shorts, revealing his erection, and asks Rachel if she wants it. Rachel, always ready for a challenge, takes control by deflating his erection with a clever trick. This leads to a group of men gathering to watch her perform oral sex on Harvey, which escalates into a plan for a 'fuck fest' with Rachel. The story is a playful and erotic tale of a young woman navigating her desires and the attention she receives at the boxing club.","partCount":1,"parts":[{"partId":"ab1c00d9-6f10-4bb0-8dc5-088bc0baae07","title":"I return to a boxing club for more than jousting","summary":".I'm not sure why I returned to the boxing club as often as I did. Neither during my time at univers","wordCount":7210,"readTime":36,"number":1,"state":"Published"}],"currentPart":1,"contentTitle":"I return to a boxing club for more than jousting","content":"

.I'm not sure why I returned to the boxing club as often as I did. Neither during my time at university nor today does boxing interest me. It seems strange that two men, or these days women, would want to purposefully hit each other to knock one or the other to the ground. It is a peculiar sport.

Undoubtedly, my arrival at the club caused a little commotion, especially when I was dared to spar with male members on the same grounds, topless. My nude bout with Ian was another factor that seemed to make male hearts leap and cause certain parts to stiffen appreciably. Perhaps these factors encouraged me, more than others, to attend the club whenever coursework and social activities permitted.

I was aware, too, that most of the young men under Buster's instruction desired to get me into bed or naked on the floor to have their way with me. 'Lads will be lads', as the saying goes. It was only to be expected that a modestly pretty university student entering the all-conquering male domain of a boxing club would be the subject of rude, ribald, raucous comments. I received plenty.

'When can we fuck, Rachel?'

'You going to strip for us, luv?'

'Want to see my cock?'

'Flash your tits for us?'

'Get ya kit off, Rachel!'

'Open your legs for us.'

'Let's see your arse.'

'You can't fight, but can you fuck.'

These often crude comments never bothered me then and don't now. I immensely enjoyed this male bravado directed at me and often retaliated a little myself. I knew, perhaps more than the young men who frequented the club, that at some point, when I was ready, I would indeed open my legs and enjoy some good, hard thrusting rather than the more common jousting.

Despite my relatively active and highly fertile sex life, I am not generally an 'in your face' kind of girl. As a rule, I tend to be more reserved and coy, but come out as soon as my juices start to flow.

As I exercised on the various apparatus, I realised that eyes would stray in my direction as my body strained in my over-tight boob tube and size six shorts. Everyone wanted a more revealing glimpse of my body than just my bare arms, long legs and exposed midriff, not that these were not worth seeing. I feel that my arms and legs are perhaps my most acceptable assets, given the small proportions of my breasts and the plainness of my face.

Knowing that straying eyes would look lustfully at me, I often tried to provide a little' extra' delight by ensuring my shorts were low enough to display a little of my bum crack. I was also able to lift my boob tube so that the bottom of my breast was also visible. My efforts were appreciated by all except Buster, who found my sexy antics a distraction as he sought to teach uppercuts and southpaws to distracted boxers.

The actual boxing – sparing - is apparently the correct terminology was where I had the most fun and also where I received the majority of my bruises. I could not say that the jabbing, cuts, or power punches interested me, and I'm convinced the guys who danced around the ring with me felt the same. I enjoyed being held against the ropes as gentle body punches pummeled my rib cage while muscular bodies and rigid rods kept me in position. This excited me as much as it did them, and often after sparring with different guys, I left the ring with a prominent dark, damp patch showing through my shorts between my legs.

I knew what most of the young men wanted and was willing to give it, but neither they nor I knew the right way to ask the other the question. Thankfully, this nervous standoff came to a head when a lad called Harvey, seeing me walking toward him, pulled his shorts down to show his enormous erection.

'How would you like this up your cunt, Rachel?' he asked brusquely and unashamedly.

After a momentary pause of shocked and stunned silence from myself and others in the room, I answered by dropping to my knees, taking his rod in my hand and massaging his balls. I was using a trick I had discovered only a few weeks before this incident. This action often results in the penis suddenly deflating while the recipient enjoys the ministrations around his tender ball sack. It worked as Harvey suddenly went limp, much to his embarrassment and the enjoyment of others who had heard his initial remarks.

'Oh!' I said in a tone of shocked horror, 'What happened? I thought you wanted to stick it up me? I was all ready and willing too.'

Harvey immediately took his cock in his hand and began to vigorously work it in the hope of it regaining some of its vitality so he could take up my offer. When it was semi-rigid, I placed it to my lips and began to provide a little naughty oral stimulation.

As word spread through the four rooms of the small club, members left rings, punchbags, weights and equipment to view the spectacle of a loose-living female university student providing sexual services to another of the boxing club's members.

I suddenly realised that silence had descended and stopped what I was doing to look sheepishly around as a dozen faces stared in my direction. I blushed like a naughty child caught doing something I shouldn't.

'Rachel,’ Buster sighed, 'I know you want sex with all these guys, but there is a time and place for everything.'

I knew he was right.

'Harvey started it,' one of the onlookers kindly piped up.

'I don't care who started what. You have already had some fun here, Rachel, with my permission, but it is a boxing club after all.'

'Oh, come on, Buster. Stop being a killjoy. She was only having fun, and you told me two weeks ago that you wanted to fuck her yourself.’

'Now, it was the club leader who was acutely embarrassed.'

'Do you really want sex with us all?' Another enquired, helping to relieve Buster's acute embarrassment.

'Umm, Well,' I stammered as I was put on the spot.

'Of course, she does,' a further voice interjected, 'Otherwise, why does she keep hanging around the club? Anyone can tell that she's not that interested in boxing!'

'Hey,' yet another added, 'If Rachel's willing, why can't we organise a fuck fest one evening with her Buster, and as you're leader, you can fuck her first.'

Eyes drifted between Buster and me, with neither of us wishing to be the first to respond positively to the suggestion.

As my sexual gauge between my thighs registered positively to the idea, I was sure that Buster's more obvious scale would be similarly optimistic.

'It's entirely up to you, Rachel,' he finally conceded. 'Your call.'

'Can I ask who wants sex with me?' I asked rather sheepishly.

I was amazed to see every hand shoot up. I am sure, to my surprise, that not one stayed down.

'I guess I have no option,' I responded with a half smile.

I jumped as a huge cheer went up from the group, and I knew I would soon be in for the time of my life with a bunch of muscular would-be Mike Tysons and Henry Coopers.

'A week tonight, okay, Rachel?' Buster inquired, looking at me whimsically.

'I guess so,' I responded with the air of a martyr about to go to their death.

'Good. Okay, lads,' Buster announced, 'This, I guess, is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Most of us have seen Rachel with nothing on before a few weeks ago when she fought Ian. But next week will be your chance to lay her out, sort of speak.'

An excited murmur ran through those gathered around.

'How do you want to play this lassie? Buster added, trying but failing to imitate a Scottish accent. 'You lie back, and we fuck your pussy?

'That will be a bit tame,' I responded, standing for the first time. 'If you are all wanting to fuck me, you may as well do it right and fuck my arse, cunt and mouth! I'll be your fucking whore for the night. Is that alright?'

Again, a moment's stunned silence reigned before another cheer echoed around the building.

'Sounds like it will be fun,' Buster concluded, smiling. 'To be quite clear, next Wednesday, I lead the pack.' He paused before adding, 'We all want to be sure you mean what you say and say what you mean. We will tie you to the punchbag frame and ensure we have heard you correctly.'

I was led into the main room, and my hands were bound in front of me. After the punchbag had been removed, they were strung up so that they were directly above my head, and my body was taught.

'Can we examine the goods?' Buster asked.

I was in no position to refuse, but I am sure that my decision would have been respected had I done so. I nodded my agreement, and as I did so, my boob tube was lifted to reveal my tiny tits and my shorts were pulled down in one quick movement to expose my bum and pussy to prying eyes.

'Now tell us all in explicit language what you expect next week. Anyone who doesn't feel he can meet your criteria can have a night off,' Buster concluded.

I blushed as I stood bound and exposed before the lustful gaze of the thirteen guys. I swallowed hard and commenced. 'Next Wednesday, I want you to fuck me hard and long. I want you to fuck my dirty shit hole. I need to have my filthy cunt fucked by your big cocks and my fucking mouth fucked by your hard dicks. I want to be your fucking dirty slut, whore and prostitute for the night. I'll be ready to fuck will you?'

A quietness came across the room for the third time, and then Buster spoke seriously. 'I think, young lady, that you will find all these young hunks, ready, willing and able to fuck you all night. On their behalf, I ask, are you ready?'

For the first time, I felt some of my adrenalin slip away as I pondered more deeply on what I had just announced.

'I will next week,' I concluded.

During the seven days preceding the event, Alistair, who had first introduced me to the boxing club, acted as a conduit between Buster and me to ensure that everything that was going to take place would be to everyone's satisfaction.

After I had lost in my rather one-sided nude bout to Ian, he had arranged to perform some basic bondage and discipline on me, which had been a talking point for some time afterwards. Some recognised that Wednesday evening could be more than just a time when a pretty young university student opened her legs to all cummers. They might be able to perform some other fun things with me.

I was pretty sure that Buster had much better things to do with his time than organise how the night would pan out. His job as a plumber kept him busy enough, but he seemed to take the disruption to the programme of his boxing club in his stride. In his late thirties, the thought that he would be able to start proceedings off by ravaging a woman aged twenty-two, maybe helped him keep a positive attitude about things.

On the night in question, I gingerly climbed into Alistair's car.

'You alright? He asked.

'Yes, thanks.'

'Anxious?'

'Very.'

'Don't be. Everything will be fine.'

'You know, Alistair, a strange thing happened after one of my lectures today. My lecturer told me to enjoy my evening. I think he knew.'

'Gary's dad.'

'Gary's dad?' I repeated.

'Yes, he lectures at the University.'

'Which is Gary?'

By the time I had placed him, we were at the club and getting out of the car. I took a deep breath as I pushed the door and walked in - a lamb to the slaughter.

As soon as Alistair entered, he closed and locked the door. All the others were there waiting for me to arrive.

The gold-coloured pair of gloves I had claimed as mine on previous visits were procured and placed on my hands. Some of the guys wanted a short sparring session with me before the actual event began. The only stipulation was that I had to be naked.

As I had previously sparred topless with some of the guys and entered a nude boxing match with a member called Ian, I was not too perturbed. I would have to be naked later to allow all the guys to do what they wanted sexually with me. I was, however, surprised when my arms were grabbed from behind, and I was held in a vice-like grip while hands roamed freely inside my top and down my shorts.

Being restrained in such a position excited the men, who were reaching out with their wandering hands. The massaging of my breasts and poking of my pussy certainly sparked a response in my body as I delightfully accepted the men's ministrations.

Eventually, my top was lifted off my body, and while I was still restrained, my shorts were pulled down my legs. Any of the many men who have spent time in my presence over the years will testify that the removal of my knickers is always a high point with me. I am not sure what it is about feeling the fabric leave my waist and travel down my legs that affects me so powerfully. Perhaps it is the excited reaction of those watching as the most intimate part of my body is revealed to them, but whatever it is, the feeling always makes me almost instantly wet between my thighs.

I am certain this moist area was clearly visible as I was helped into the ring for my naked joust. Once in position, someone decided it would be more fun to gang up on me two against one. Trying to protect my assets from four hands instead of just two was no easy task, and with the overhead heaters purposely turned on full, I was soon wet with sweat as well as my juices leaking down my legs.

Each 'bout' lasted only a couple of minutes and was more fun play-fighting than anyone trying to make hard physical contact with my body. However, the last two guys had slightly different plans as the boxing ring quickly turned into a wrestling ring.

I was grabbed by both men and hauled to the ropes. Others held my arms over the top one, resulting in my facing those who would shortly be using my body for their gratification. Two more jumped into the ring and, grabbing my feet, pulled them wide apart. This position resulted in me leaning forward against the ropes with my bum exposed and ready to be used as their new punch bag!

The cheers and encouragement from those facing me each time a leather glove came into contact with my bum told me this was a bit of a highlight. Some even moved around behind to obtain a clear view of my punchbag bottom receiving a good pounding. Others enjoyed standing before me and watching my face grimace with each punch my backside received.

'Look at it wobble,' someone scoffed.

'Just like a hard jelly,' another commented.

'Get her between her cheeks,' another requested, 'Up her shit hole.'

As I did not count, I cannot say how many punches my derriere received; however, by the time I was released and allowed to stand upright, it was glowing red and decidedly warm.

'Time to get down to serious business,' Buster announced, 'And I'll lead the way.'

It had been decided that the ring was the ideal location, and extra foam pads were placed on the floor to make me as comfortable as possible for the long evening that lay ahead.

I was helped to lie on my back, still wearing my gold coloured boxing gloves, to wait for Buster to commence proceedings.

'Well, boys,' he announced jovially,' I thought the opportunity for me to fuck a twenty-two-year-old passed years ago. Who'd have thought a willing wanton woman would come calling at my club?

As he dropped his shorts to reveal his more than ample endowment, he looked down at me and questioned, 'Are you really happy to do this, Rachel?'

I swallowed and nodded my willingness to comply.

'Then open your legs bitch, so I can get to work and show these young uns how it's done.'

As he lowered himself between my parted thighs, he did not stop to guide his manhood toward my wet and willing cunt. It appeared laser-guided as it pushed hard and deep into my well-lubricated orifice. His was indeed a significant appendage as it opened me painfully wide as he began to thrust, ensuring his muscular chest made firm contact with my small boobs. It was as though he were doing press-ups, thrusting in and out of my pussy and lifting up and down on my body. He certainly knew how to fuck and also control himself to enjoy the experience to the maximum.

His younger charges suddenly found their voices as they encouraged him in his work.

'Fuck her, Buster.'

'Give it to her.'

'Shag the Slut.'

'Fuck her and fill her.'

I wanted to wrap my legs around him to draw him in, but his unique way of thrusting made any such move on my part all but impossible. All I had to do was lie back and enjoy his exertions, which I did. Thoroughly.

Finally, his arms locked and holding himself rigid, he shot his load deep into my ravaged pussy with a grunt of satisfaction that would have done a grizzly bear proud.

As soon as Buster had extricated himself, a free-for-all resulted as hardened cocks, and stiff nobs presented themselves for my attention from every angle. I was so busy ministering with my hands and mouth to the needs around that I had no idea who or how many had helped fill my cunt with their warm discharges.

As differing ones came to firing point, my head was positioned to either receive their offering full on or for them to shoot into my open mouth. I was no boxer, but I did know how to impress those who were, as I swallowed their cum and allowed others to splatter theirs across my face and hair.

'Right,' Buster announced in his usual no-nonsense authoritarian style, 'Time for me to fuck her arse!'

I was placed in a kneeling position as Buster came behind and, having made quite a spectacle of thankfully lubricating my shit hole, offered his nob in its direction. I have always had a small back passage and, therefore, always find it excruciatingly painful when a larger-than-average dick seeks to penetrate its resisting opening.

I screamed blue murder as Buster suddenly propelled his rock-solid rod right through my protesting anus and deep into my arse. His pleasure and my great discomfort brought howls of delight from those gathered around, all desirous of following suit.

Despite gritting my teeth, I could not keep silent, eventually letting out unearthly sounds with each deep, hard thrust Buster sent my way before sending his load of sticky white serum far into my backside.

Once he was out, another took his place in my already stretched and sore bum hole while others looked for further oral stimulation, resulting in a further thick coating of white glue across my face and through my hair.

Time seemed to stand still as I felt my bum stretched, thrust, filled and stretched again by a continual train of excited and eager young men, some of whom were entering a woman's back passage for the first time. The novelty of stretching and shagging my bum was a massive turn-on as they enjoyed free entry to my arse and the occasional slap across my bum cheeks as they pounded away. These slaps became more frequent and harder the more I grunted and groaned under the ongoing bombardment of smacks and cocks.

When Buster knelt before me and offered his again rigid cock I realised that I would be required to perform an arse-to-mouth cleaning job for every guy.

I looked up at Buster as he stated, 'Get on with it.' I did. I sucked, kissed, licked, slobbered and slavered over each of the young boxers, ensuring their cocks were clean and ready for further action. Buster continued to stand over me, ensuring I did a professional job.

When I completed this task, to his satisfaction, the gloves that I had worn right through were removed, and I was allowed to wash in the shower block. There was one shower tray and three showerheads, and each was turned on as I was joined by all the men in one soapy squeeze under the warm flow of the water. We were packed in so tightly that I could hardly move as hands with bars of soap reached around my body to rub any part of me they could reach. All I had to do was stand and enjoy the proceedings while hands and fingers ensured every part of my body, inside and out, was cleansed several times.

Once the mass shower was complete, I was made to kneel under the middle jet as each of the young athletes walked up to me and stood with legs apart as I washed their cocks, balls and bums thoroughly with soap. I was ordered to take special care to ensure that bum holes were adequately cleaned.

With my task finally completed, I was dried in the same manner I had been washed, with many hands rubbing towels over my naked body and through my dripping hair.

'Okay, Rachel,' Buster announced, 'We all want rim jobs from you, and you can start with me.'

He bent over as other hands pushed me to my knees and my face tight into Buster's backside.

'Work slut,' I heard someone else command.

I did as I started to rim Buster's anus with my tongue. It was soon evident that my efforts were having an effect as I heard short, sharp sighs and groans of delight from my patient.

As soon as Buster moved away, another bottom took his place, and more hands pushed my face into the bum crack of the second excited customer. I pushed my tongue into his usually dirty and smelly orifice as deep as possible and began giving him the rim job he wanted. I was aware, as he changed position, that there were certain areas of his bum hole that he enjoyed my tongue working on more than others. I tried to accommodate his interests as best I could until the impatient complaining of others told him his time was up.

While I was rimming butts, those waiting or who had already received my attention came behind me and reached down to ensure that my breasts and nipples received a good fondling.

Bum after bum, and hole after hole was worked by my tongue as I sought to please all in the club with my ministrations. Was I ever glad that night that the guys had ensured I had cleaned them before I embarked on this venture?

My tongue was feeling rather sore when I had completed my task on the final person and was lifted to my feet.

'We have decided that we all want to enjoy a little of what I did to you a couple of months ago,' Ian announced with a wry smile playing on his face. 'They all want to try a little discipline on you because you were so pathetic tonight. You need to be taught a lesson.'

Buster then took over the narrative, 'We discussed this during the week and decided to use only items that we have in the club.'

I was grabbed by an assortment of hands and hauled out of the shower room and back into the main hall, which contained the three boxing rings, punch bags, and other exercise apparatus.

I was led to the exercise bike and lifted onto the saddle. 'You need better leg muscles,' I was told, 'So pedal hard.'

I had no idea what to expect, so I commenced to peddle, sitting naked on the saddle and with nothing on my feet. The saddle pushed sorely into my backside while the pedals were hard and painful against the ball of my feet.

The lads stood back, and a couple started flicking a rope with a knot on one end and a towel in my direction as incentives to work harder. As the two caught my naked flesh, it was similar to receiving short, sharp bee stings.

'Faster, Bitch.'

'Harder, Whore.'

Although I did a little jogging, I had not ridden a bicycle for quite a while, so I was stiff and unused to the effort required. Things became even more interesting as the lads increased the friction dial, requiring me to stand to keep the pedals turning. This provided a better target for the rope and towel operators to aim at, and they took full advantage of the opportunity my new position afforded.

Whether it was because the lads were feeling a slight chill as they stood naked watching me straining at the pedals or simply because they wanted to see me sweat more than I was, someone had the bright idea of turning the heating up to maximum.

The old-fashioned overhead heaters turned redder, the room grew warmer, and I got hotter the more I exerted myself under the continual encouragement of messers rope and towel.

Finally, panting like a demented dog chasing a bitch in heat, I was allowed to stop and clamber off the exercise bike. As I stood unsteadily on the hard tiled floor, my legs felt like jelly as I held the bike's handle to keep from falling over.

'Not as fit as we thought, are you?' Someone commented as I stood, perspiring freely, my hair clinging to my face.

'Weights,' another voice quickly interjected before I had even thought about recovering.

I was assisted to the mat, where dumbbells and a barbell set waited for my arrival. The barbell was sitting on two supporting mounts, almost in line with my nipples.

'Lift it, loft it and hold it ten times,' Buster commanded in a no-nonsense tone.

I stood behind the weight set and gripped the bar with both hands.

'Widen your stance, or you'll fall over,' I was instructed.

I opened my legs and planted my feet firmly on the ground, retaking hold of the bar.

'Now lift,' another encouraged.

A simple glance in my direction at my slim eight and a half stone frame will tell anyone that I am not a budding bodybuilder. As I lifted the bar off its mounting, I was surprised at how light it felt. It seemed a doddle to lift it above my head and lock my arms.

'Hold it like that,' Buster barked.

I held it tight, legs and arms apart, body still heaving from my previous task.

'Lower.'

I did. As soon as it was down, two lads uncrewed the ends and added further weights.

'Lift again,' I was told.

As I did so, I knew that this was substantially heavier than what I had previously lifted. It made my legs wobble, as they were still unsteady following the bicycle saga, and my arms ached as I pushed hard and raised the bar aloft.

'Hold it,' I was instructed.

I did so, and my body began to tremble under the strain.

'Grab it,' Buster shouted as the bar was taken out of my arms by two lads standing on either side of me.

'Pathetic weakling,' Ian responded with a smile of sardonic pleasure.

'Stay like that, girl,' Buster ordered as I remained rooted to the spot. 'Put your hands on your head.' I obeyed.

'Fuckin sexy sight, that,' a voice drifted from the rear of the small crowd.

'Sweaty, steamy, skinny and sizzling sexy,' another interjected poetically.

'Who thinks that position requires a little attention?' Buster enquired.

'Most definitely,' a different voice confirmed, 'Just look at those nipples.'

I looked down and realised that something had caused my nipples to become stiff and erect, a sure sign that I was getting 'turned on' by proceedings.

'Get the peg bag,' Buster told one of his charges, who immediately scurried off into the toilet area to comply with the request.

Buster advanced toward me with the newly arrived peg bag in hand, lifting a large peg as he came closer.

As instructed, I stood motionless, with my legs apart and my hands resting on my head. Buster opened a peg and held it over my right nipple for a second before releasing it. I gave out a snort as it caught hold and held tight.

Buster repeated the operation on my left nipple as the onlookers enjoyed watching my sharp intake of breath as the peg bit into my sensitive flesh.

'I'm impressed,' Buster confessed as he stepped back to admire his work. 'Nothing in the way of muscles but lots of stamina for a bit of pain. Unusual in a woman.'

'How much can she take?' a voice called from the back.

Readers of my accounts will realise that I am often rather impetuous, which has always been one of my many weaknesses. Immediately after the challenge was given, I responded without thinking.

'How much do you want to give?'

As soon as it had slipped out, I regretted it; however, I was not willing to lose face by immediately retracting it again.

'That's an open invitation if ever I heard one,' Buster replied, smiling delightedly in my direction. 'I think firstly, as punishment for being so scandalous tonight, you need some of us to take you over our knees and give you six of the best.'

A chair was brought upon which one of the young men sat and motioned me to come to him.

I lay across his thighs with my bum to his right, ready to be spanked. When he started, he did not, as we say in the UK, 'spare the horses.' His open hand slapped hard against my exposed and rapidly reddening backside as he enjoyed providing the 'six of the best' that Buster had suggested.

My grunts as each hard smack met my bum excited all in the room as the sudden revival of drooping manhoods showed.

'Why not replace the punch bag with her?' Someone suggested, 'A bit like we did after she fought Ian?'

There was a short silence before the clamouring of hands seeking to assist in the repositioning of my body made it clear that the idea had met universal acceptance.

The punch bag was quickly unhooked again, and my hands were bound in front of my body. My arms were then lifted above my head and secured to the hook that supported the punch bag. I was taught standing on my tiptoes before the still lustful eyes of the boxing club.

I watched as a set of boxing gloves was put on the first volunteer.

'Four punches each, lads,’ Buster announced as a second commenced gloving up.

I did not have a clue what to expect as I hung before them a human punch bag.

'Hit her tits,' A voice called out.

'Punch her twat,' Another added.

'Biff her chin,' A Further voice encouraged.

I stiffened as the first young boxer took up position before me and threw his first gentle punch in my direction. It hit my right breast, which was still sore from the pegging it had received. I gasped, but I did not scream after realising I had not been struck hard. Three more punches landed on my breasts, each increasing in power as I was sussed out as to what punishment I could take.

The second up, to use me as a punchbag, decided he wanted to get in close and pummel my ribcage. As he did so, he placed his head on my chest and, to everyone's delight, stuck his tongue out and began to lick my nipples in a very erotic manner whilst very occasionally giving my ribs a digging with his leather gloves.

Each new participant in the merry game sought a new place on my person to lay leather against skin. My face received four medium punches, which I proudly 'rolled' with; that was why I had first attended the boxing club.

Another decided that my bum required a little more attention and used his allocation of four punches to ensure I swung on my bonds as he aimed low and hard at my backside.

The last 'volunteer' was perhaps the most muscular of all the guys and had certainly given me a good time as he had bucked me and fucked me earlier in the evening. He knew how to please a woman while satisfying himself.

'Would you like to be a proper punchbag?' he enquired as he stared me in the face.

'In what way?' I asked, unsure quite what he meant.

'The others have just been playing with you,' he countered, 'I'd like to use you how a punchbag should be used.'

Stupidly, I smiled and answered, 'Punch away!'

The next I knew, I could hardly breathe and saw stars even though I was certain that he had not struck my head.

Confusion reigned as his name was shouted very loudly, and others grabbed him before he had an opportunity to fire a second body punch in my direction. I was still gasping when I became aware that someone was helping me out of my suspended position.

'What a dumb stupid thing to do,' Buster shouted at the startled offender. 'Have you no sense, no brains, no thought of what you could have done?'

'She told me to 'punch away,'' he replied.

'Not in her stomach, you stupid idiot.'

'No one else had hit her there,' my assailant argued as I was helped, still shaken, onto a seat.

'With good cause,' Buster bellowed, 'For crying out loud, you could have really hurt her.'

'I didn't hit her with all my strength.'

'A blooming good job too,' Buster replied, walking over to check on me.

Thankfully, I was only winded and nothing more, although I was a little shocked at the sudden turn of events.

'I'm so sorry,' the young man finally said, having suffered an awful barracking from everyone in the room. 'I wasn't thinking straight and got a bit carried away. I hope I didn't hurt you?'

'I smiled at him benignly, 'You certainly hurt me,' I countered, 'I think you needed to add 'too much' to your statement.'

'Sorry. I hope I didn't hurt you too much,' he repeated rather forlornly. 'Would you like to hit me back in my stomach? He enquired.

I had not thought or desired to do so; however, a strange idea entered my head and, as I have discovered often happens with me, just popped out. 'I'll fight you properly in the ring,' I announced rather too confidently.

Those caring for me and those looking on went silent, as did Buster and my assailant.

'What?' Buster asked incredulously.

'I want to fight him properly in the ring,' I repeated, gesticulating in its direction.

'Why?'

That was a good question, but difficult to answer. Perhaps since the first occasion I had visited the boxing club, or certainly the second, I wondered what it would be like to box correctly. I had sparred and done some fun topless bouts and my infamous totally nude contest against Ian. I knew, though, that they were all toying with me. They knew I could not compete with them at their standard. They occasionally let me hit them to make me feel good and never hit me back so hard that I ended up lying on the canvas.

I had occasionally sat in bed trying to imagine how I would feel standing in the ring facing a competitor, knowing I had to knock him down or be knocked down myself. Here was my opportunity to find out.

'Are you sure, Rachel?' Buster asked almost sympathetically.

Despite a sore stomach, my mind was made up. I wanted to lay one on this hotshot who had winded me. I wanted a proper fight, not just pretend.

'Are you happy about that?' Buster asked the one who had inflicted me with a painful midriff.'

'Of course, if she's really game.'

I was. Adrenalin surged through me like lava issuing from an erupting volcano. I'm teetotal; I have never been drunk in my life. That's a long story and can be told elsewhere. I was, however, drunk with a strange feeling that I might just hold my own.

'Get the grease,' Buster commanded, 'I hope we have enough. We have to give Rachel at least a sporting chance.'

In the short time I had frequented this club, I had learnt the names of famous boxers, discovered terminology for different punch types, and many other technical phrases connected with the sport. I had never heard tell of anything to do with grease.

'If you're happy,' Buster addressed my competitor, 'We'll grease her up?'

'That's okay with me.'

'What do you mean, grease me up?' I asked innocently.

'In a proper fight,' Barry explained, 'If a boxer suffers a cut, we can grease it to help protect it. We will grease you all over to help protect you.'

'How will my being greased do that?'

'When he hits you, his glove will slide off you. I'm giving you a slight advantage, Rachel. Are you happy if we grease you all over?'

'Not half,' I replied as cheekily as I could, hoping to hide my sudden fear of what I had let myself in for.'

I had to stand with my hands on my head and legs apart as several willing and eager hands scooped grease out of several small tins and smeared it across my body. I have discovered through the years that men who do this type of thing always check, double-check, and recheck each other's applications, especially around certain more intimate and interesting areas.

Finally, I was ready, including a liberal amount of grease rubbed through my hair for good measure, over which a spongy head protector contraption was placed. Thus fully prepared, I clambered in my ungainly manner into the ring, where my opponent waited expectantly.

'Okay, you two,' Buster said as if calling two recalcitrant school children to order, 'Two three-minute rounds, three knockdowns, or a knockout wins. Understand?'

We did. My opponent wanted to lay me on the canvas, whereas, although I enjoyed getting 'laid', I wanted to end this uneven contest with a bit of pride for the fearless woman.

The bell rang, and we both shadowed each other around the ring. It took me a minute of dancing around and throwing the odd air punch before I realised that my opponent wanted to win without me landing one blow in his direction. He would not engage.

If I were close in, I decided at least I could pummel his ribcage. My sudden dive toward him caught him off guard as I avoided a right hook and hugged him tight on the ropes. It was a moral victory that drew loud cheers from those watching in amazement.

He was needled by my apparent success and came at me with a fury. As I had been instructed, I put my gloves to my face as he buffeted me with punch after punch. Once I felt the barrage had ended, I lowered my gloves to move away when, suddenly, I was lying on the canvas with little idea of how I had gotten there.

I sat undignified, propping myself up with my arms and inadvertently allowing anyone in the correct position quite a sight between my legs.

As Buster counted down from ten, I realised that I must have been knocked down. Thankfully, the bell rang before the count had ended, and I was helped into my corner.

'You were doing great,' I was told by some who had taken it upon themselves to be my coaches, 'Why did you drop your guard?'

I was unaware that I had dropped anything other than my clothes hours earlier.

'Get and keep close in,' they told me, 'He can't do anything to you if you're up against him. Get so close you can feel his cock touching your fanny.'

I looked at my friend and gave him a half smile.

The bell went for the next round, and I ran toward my rival as someone does their long-lost lover. Once again, my surprise tactic worked as I found myself again hugging him on the ropes and feeling his rigid manhood pressing against my pussy.

I landed a few half-baked rib punches from my limited position as he sought a way out of my embrace.

'Break,' Buster called time and again, but I had no intention of easily giving up my position of safety. Finally, Buster dived in and pulled us apart.

'Box on,' he called.

Once again, I adopted the lightning attack policy and was against my adversary before he had taken up his fighting stance. I grabbed him and pulled myself close before trying to land some hits around his ribs again.

In desperation, my opponent lifted his arms to show I was holding him illegally. As Buster pulled me away, I wickedly and purposefully threw a punch 'below the belt' that caught my opposite number on his balls. The effect was astonishing as it poleaxed him, and he crumpled to the floor with a thud and the sound of a belching cow.

Buster railed on me, 'RACHEL,' he bellowed with such force that I felt the hairs stand up through the grease on the back of my neck. His explosive use of my name brought an instantaneous hush around the building.

'That's illegal! He shouted. 'Below the Belt! You could have caused serious damage!'

'He asked for it,' someone shouted out.

'What?' Buster retaliated.

'He hit her in the belly when she hung on the punchbag support. He started it!'

Buster stopped dead as if hit by a bullet.

'Point taken,' he concluded lamely. Then, turning to the opposition, who was now picking himself off the canvas, he asked, 'Do you want to box on?'

'Of course, I do,' he replied rather aggressively.

Buster told us to 'Box on' when my opponent was standing upright.

I knew I was in for a tough two minutes to the end of the fight as my challenger came towards me, seemingly breathing fire.

I danced, ducked, dodged and weaved, using my limited knowledge to avoid his one-two combination. The only thing I did not do was turn and run in circles around the ring. As I leaned on the ropes, I remember my legs giving way and stars dancing around my head as I landed for a second time on the deck.

As I lay, arms and legs outstretched, greasy, panting and looking up, I remember hearing Buster calling 'One, Zero, Out!'

Before I or anyone else knew what was happening, my winning rival was lying on top of my prone body with his cock deep up my cunt, thrusting me for all he was worth.

'What are you doing?' Buster asked in the commotion.

'Checking my equipment is still in order on this cheating bitch,' he countered without seemingly drawing breath. It was. Fully! His groan of complete satisfaction told everyone that all was well.

It was gone midnight when, after another assisted wash in the showers, I could finally make my weary way back to the halls where I was staying.

I ached for days afterwards and struggled to remove all the grease from my hair despite copious amounts of hot water, showers and shampoo.

I only returned a couple more times to the boxing club. I was neither born nor built to be a fighter of any sort. That said, ever since, I’ve always been glad for the lessons I learned during those encounters, as I feel I have a limited but surprising defence should it ever be required. Thankfully, it hasn’t! No, boxing wasn't really for me; however, I was happy to meet some of those boxers again later on in my degree course, naturally enough, without their boxer shorts!

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