Mike had discovered that his wife, Martha, was having a lesbian relationship with her self-defense instructor, Anne. Mike tried to break it up but was beaten up by Anne, stripped naked and forced to masturbate in front of the girls of the self-defense class. Completely subjugated, Mike had to agree to Anne moving in with Martha. Mike became the women’s domestic slave.

Martha had experienced a welter of emotions since her husband had been put in his place. She had been thrilled to see her huge hunk of a husband fall before the savage fighting skills of her slender female lover. Then, as she watched the man she’d married being reduced from a proud male to a sobbing wreck by the merciless young girl, she had felt a pang of sympathy for him.

Now, as he slunk about the house, his house like a beaten cur, scared of his own shadow, jumping to obey every command, however outrageous, all she could feel was contempt for him.

Anne forced him to go naked around the house. She gave him an impossible list of tasks to complete, then beat him up if they weren’t done. Her favorite punishment was to make him stand before her, feet astride, hands on head. Then she would smile up at the man who towered over her, tense with terror, then drop him with a knee to his well-hung balls.

“I can’t understand why he just stands there and takes it?” asked Martha to her new lover, as the girls lay in bed together. “Even I would try to fight back! He’s just a muscle-bound wimp I guess! And you,” she breathed, snuggling into the girl, “are just a gorgeous little man-beating bully!”

“True,” said Anne, smugly. “I love having a male slave and keeping him subjugated. All men should be slaves to women. That way the world would be a much better place. For women anyway. And, of course, we could enslave men if we wanted to. Any woman can beat up a man if she just takes the trouble to learn how. You’ve been coming to my classes for six months now. You could beat Mike up just like I did ... if you wanted to!”

“What! Me! Never. He’s twice my size, stronger, bigger...”

“Slower, more stupid, less skilful, less stamina, less will power, lower pain threshold, and he has a lovely big set of delicate balls. Any man, no matter how big, or how powerful he is,” said Anne, “can always be brought down by a girl. All she has to do is kick him in the balls, hard! Fighting isn’t about size and strength; it’s about skill, determination, speed and the ability to think coolly under pressure. You could beat him all right.

“You’re ready! Even a big powerful guy like Mike is no match for a girl who knows what she’s doing! I think we ought to go down to the gym tomorrow before class and get the two of you in the ring. Think what a lovely feeling it will be when you’ve got him lying at your feet, crying for mercy, just like he did when I kicked the shit out him! I’m so sure you’ll win I’m going to make Mike an offer he can’t refuse so that he’ll do his best to beat you, but he won’t succeed!”

Having persuaded Martha into combat, Anne summoned Mike and told him what was going to happen. “And if you win, I’ll go away,” said Anne, “and you can have your wife back.” She took hold of him by the balls and looked up into the man’s face. “But you’re not going to win, are you Mikey,” she twisted his balls until his face contorted with pain, “because your wife is a woman, and a woman who is a better fighter than you!”

...

The next day, Mike, naked as usual in the presence of Anne, climbed into the ring with mixed feelings. He wasn’t sure if he wanted Anne to go. He found her domination of him sexually arousing. Although assuming an air of permanent dejection, Mike had never felt so alive. The thrill of being punished by an attractive girl outweighed the humiliation he had to endure at her hands. The tension and fear as she lined him up to kick his balls, then the erotic ecstasy of looking up from the ground at the smooth limbs and curvaceous body of the girl who had floored him, made the blood course through Mike’s veins in a way it never had before, until his cock surged in glorious, rampant erection.

Yet, here was a chance to regain his manhood. If he beat his lovely young wife, then he could call the shots.

Well, it shouldn’t take long, Mike thought. Martha was a tiny chit of a girl, 5’5” and 120lbs. A puff of wind would blow her over, and she’d always been a gentle, submissive soul. Now she stood, in the opposite corner, ready to fight him, wearing the black cotton briefs he liked most and a white aertex sports shirt which made her look positively virginal and extremely vulnerable.

Mike felt his cock begin to rise as he took in the sight of his sexy little wife in the outfit she knew turned him on more than any other. He forced himself to think of the contest and resolved to end this farce quickly and get his life back.

When Anne gave the signal, he walked purposefully forward with the intention of grabbing his Elfin-sized wife in a bear hug and squeezing her into him until she submitted to his masculine strength.

Martha waited, outwardly coy, yet her stomach churning with apprehension as the massive figure of her husband bore down on her. She knew the effect her outfit of black briefs and white shirt had on him and expected that he would be reluctant to hurt her. But she couldn’t believe he’d be so stupid as to leave himself wide open like this!

As Mike reached out his muscle-laden arms to grab her, Martha reacted to a situation she’d been in a dozen times in practice. The girl kicked her husband in his balls. With a howl of distress, Mike folded over; clutching his balls, and sank moaning to the canvas.

Martha was shocked by what she’d done. She knelt beside her stricken mate, full of concern, and put her hand on his heaving shoulder. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Mike. I didn’t mean to hurt you, it just happened. Are you all right?”

After the initial shock of the kick to his balls, Mike recovered rapidly. He was used too much worse treatment from Anne, so didn’t feel too badly hurt. Now, all he wanted to do was repay the girl who had hurt him, and here she was, kneeling beside him, asking if he was all right!

Mike reached out as though pleading for help. Then, as the concerned woman went to his aid, he pulled her frail body into him and wrapped his arms round her slender waist. “Gottcha!” he cried, triumphantly, as the girl let out a screech of alarm. “Now give in before I crush your ribs in!”

For a moment Martha was so furious at her treacherous husband, that she didn’t appreciate the predicament she was in. “You rat!” she hissed. “I wanted to help you, and you pull this dirty ... Ow!”

Mike applied some pressure, and brought the girl back to reality. He had rolled onto his back, and held the her on top of him, his arms round her body, pinning her to his barrel like chest so that her head rested under his chin.

He squeezed her. “You’d better give in, my love,” he said, not unkindly, “before I break your ribs. I don’t really want to hurt you, so come on, give!” He applied more pressure. Martha’s body went limp. With a grunt of satisfaction, Mike let go and began to roll her aside. Then she was on him. Before he knew what was happening, the lithe young woman thrust herself onto his chest, grabbed the astonished man by the hair and jabbed her delicate fingers into his eyes.

There was no mercy now in Martha’s heart. Her husband’s treacherous attack had awakened all her dormant aggression. All she wanted to do was hammer the man to defeat. She balled her tiny fists as Mike screeched in pain and brought his hands up to his smarting eyes.

Mercilessly, she straddled his chest and smashed punches into his throat and face, loving the sound of her female fist smacking into male flesh.

Mike’s arms came up to ward off the girl’s attack and Martha rolled away and sprang lightly to her feet.

Eyes watering, Mike also tried to get to his feet, but was much slower than his agile young wife. As he rose on hands on knees, the pumped up virago drove her foot into his ribs. Mike’s body jolted with the force of the blow but he kept coming. The girl caught him again as he got onto one knee, her foot driving into the side of his jaw, smashing his large head round to one side, almost causing him to topple over again. But Mike was strong. He pushed himself upright into a boxer’s crouch and tried to focus on the tiny female fury who was causing all his pain.

“I can be tricky, too, lover boy,” taunted Martha. “Now you’re going to find out what it’s like to be beaten up by your wife!” Fists whirling, the deadly young woman tore into her huge male adversary. This wasn’t her husband any more. This was an enemy, and enemy to be destroyed. A man to be conquered by a woman. With deadly efficiency, she began to take him apart.

Unable to see properly, Mike found it impossible to counter his wife’s attack. His fists shot out with awesome power, but they didn’t connect with anything as the nimble woman ducked and weaved, swayed out of danger, then struck back with fists like rapiers.

Toe to toe, the fighters waded into each other; two magnificent specimens of their respective genders. A huge, powerfully built, broad shouldered male against a gorgeous, lithe, curvaceous, graceful female. Brute male strength against female agility. And as they fought, it was the woman who began to win the battle.