The Knockout
by AmazonFan
She straightens her husband out with her fists


The time my wife Rosemary knocked me out, I thought it was 
a fluke.  I had come home on a Friday night, late, and more 
than a bit drunk.  I had been hanging out with some of the 
crowd from the office at a bar and Rosemary was pissed.  I 
hadn't called to say I'd be late and dinner got ruined and 
that wasn't the first time I'd come home a bit toasted.

"Why do you do this to me?" she cried.  "Why are you always 
getting drunk?"

Then we got into an argument and I really went over the line 
and I called her a fucking bitch.  I regretted it immediately 
and her eyes went cold and she turned away.  I thought she 
was going to cry but suddenly she spun back around at me 
and clocked me with a roundhouse right flush to my jaw.  I hit 
the floor, kayoed with one punch.

I woke up the next morning fully clothed in the spare 
bedroom.  I guess she dumped me there or I crawled in 
there.  I really don't remember.  All I knew was I had a 
wicked hangover and a sore jaw.  I took a shower and 
hauled my ass down to the kitchen.  Rosemary was already 
there.  She'd had breakfast already and had left something 
for me on the stove.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"You don't get it do you?  When is this going to stop?" she 
replied angrily.

"Look, I don't want to start arguing again.  I'm sorry what 
happened and I'm sorry what I said.  But I think you'll have to 
admit you stepped over the line too."

"You were acting like a child and sometimes children need 
to be taught a lesson." she answered.

"So you're saying you'd hit a child."

"Oh stop the bullshit.  You're always trying to twist my words 
around to defend your crap.  You know what I'm talking 
about.  You acted like a shit last night and lots of times 
before.  Nothing I said or did got through to you.  I won't put 
up with your shit anymore."

"I know you're right to be angry with me." I replied.  "That's 
true but I think there's an even bigger issue here.  I'm not 
saying that anything I did was justified because I know it's 
wrong but I don't think you were justified in hitting me."

"Too fucking bad!"

"Look.  Guys get thrown in jail for hitting their wives.  Don't you 
see how serious it is what you did?"

"Of course I know how serious it is.  Why the hell do you think I 
did it?  When are you going to take it seriously?  It seems like I 
might finally have gotten your attention."

"That was no way to do it.  What would have happened if I'd 
hit you back?" I asked.

"As I seem to recall, you hit the floor instead of hitting back," 
she sneered.  "You ever try hitting me, I'll clean your clock."

"What is this?  Now you're threatening to beat me up.  Are 
you crazy?"

"No.  You're the one who's crazy.  I've just gotten fed up and 
I'm not going to tolerate your bullshit anymore.  If what it 
takes is a little discipline," she said cocking her fist, "Then that's 
what it takes."

"I'm sorry but I don't have to take these threats."  I replied.  "If 
you seriously think that you can rule over me physically.  Just 
look at reality.  If, and I repeat if, I ever raised my fists to you I 
think you know what the outcome would be."

"Mister glass jaw?" she laughed sarcastically.  "I'm trembling.  
I'm in fear."

I don't know what had gotten into her.  She clearly wanted 
to challenge me.  She wanted to assert her authority in our 
marriage.  Assert her authority over me.  I wasn't ready to 
accept that.  I knew I'd behaved poorly, but that was no 
reason for me to put myself on less than an even keel with 
her.

"Don't challenge me unless you're willing to face the 
consequences," I said sternly.

"Oh no, don't challenge me," she replied.  "You don't want 
to find out what I'm capable of.  Or do you?"  Again she 
clenched her fist.  I thought she was mocking me.

"You're pushing me dear," I said icily.

"Right into a corner and I won't let you out," she replied.

"You really want to fight me, don't you?" I asked.

"I think it's the only way I can get you to wake up and 
change."

"And if you lose, then what happens?" I asked.  Rosemary 
just laughed.

"You realize you're forcing me to do this," I said.  She 
nodded and smiled.  "I don't think I could ever bring myself 
to hitting your face.  Nor do I want anyone to think that I've 
suddenly become a wife beater, so if we're going to box, I 
think we have to agree up front that there will be no blows to 
the head."

"Trying to protect your glass jaw?" she chuckled.  "Okay I can 
live with that."

"So we're really going to do this?" I asked, still not believing 
this was happening.  She pounded a fist into her open palm.

"Shouldn't take long," she answered.  "Why don't we meet in 
the exercise room around 2:00?  I know you don't go in there, 
but you know where it is, don't you?"  We had a spare 
bedroom converted into a home gym with a stair machine 
and a NordicTrack and a NordicFlex resistance machine.  
Rosemary uses it a lot and goes to the gym as well.  I have 
to admit she keeps herself in much better condition than I 
do.

I moped around the house for the next few hours wondering 
what kind of fool I was to pick a fight with my lovely wife.  
There was no way I could win, I figured.  I mean I was quite 
sure that I would win any fight, but I really didn't want to.  On 
the other hand, she really had forced my hand.  Like I said, I 
couldn't win.

What do you wear to a fight with your wife?  I put on a pair of 
gym shorts around a quarter to two and went into the 
exercise room.  Rosemary was already there.  It shocked 
me at first that she was nude.

"Trying to distract me?" I asked, trying to be amiable, if that's 
possible under the circumstances.

"I debated wearing clothes and I just felt that this was right.  
It's a primal battle of the sexes, so why not strip it down to the 
basics?"  Meeting her challenge, I pulled off my shorts and 
tossed them aside.  Rosemary smirked at my naked body.

"Looks awfully soft to me," she said.  "You sure you're up to 
this?"

"I think you're the only one who's in any danger here."

"You've gotten so out of shape.  Look, why don't you just 
amuse me for a moment.  Try doing say ten push ups.  Just to 
show me you won't collapse."

I smirked at her and dropped down to the floor.  Ten push 
ups was easy.  I decided to keep going to show her up.  But 
by the fifteenth I was really feeling the strain.  I had to pause 
for a moment.  Slowly I cranked out three more push ups 
and could barely finish the eighteenth.  I decided to quit 
rather than fail to finish the next one.

"There.  Does that show you?" I said.  "I did a lot better than 
ten."

Rosemary shook her head and dropped to the floor without 
saying a word.  She knocked off thirty five push ups in record 
time and then followed that with ten one armed push ups.  
I've never been able to do those.  She bounded back up 
to her feet.

"I'd do more, but I'm sure you want to get on to the main 
event." she said.

"Go ahead.  Take your time.  Do whatever you want." I 
offered.

"Well then in that case," she started saying, walking across 
the room and picking up two dumbbells.  I didn't know we 
owned weights that big.  These things were huge and 
Rosemary started doing alternating curls.  I'm watching her 
biceps swell and begin to get pumped and Rosemary 
knows I'm watching.  "You haven't seen me work out in a 
while, have you?" she asked rhetorically.  "I've really been 
working hard the past year at building up my strength." she 
continued.  I kept staring at her arms, amazed at how big 
and hard they were getting.  With some people you don't 
realize their development until they start exerting themselves.  
I guessed that was the case with Rosemary.

"The other thing I've been doing," she said, "is that the gym 
has been teaching women the fundamentals of boxing.  
They won't let us spar, but we can shadow box and work the 
speed bag and the heavy bag.  And they teach us how to 
plant your weight the right way and throw combinations."

"So now I get it." I replied.  "Now I see why you were so hot 
to box me.  You thought you'd sucker me.  You think a few 
classes is going to make a difference?"

"Were you ever in a real fight in your life?" she interrupted.

"Well not exactly.  Pushing and shoving in grammar school 
isn't exactly fighting." I admitted.

"So you have no more experience than I do.  In fact, you 
may have less.  I have had training.  Have you?"

"No.  But it seems that they didn't teach you that fighters fight 
in different weight classes.  That, you can't compensate for."

"Speed.  Stamina.  Smarts.  And I bet I punch a lot harder 
than you do.  I think I've got it." she boasted.  Rosemary put 
down the weights and began shadow boxing to finish 
loosening up.  I'll admit she looked pretty good, bobbing 
and weaving and practicing combinations.  She was very 
fluid.  She didn't look like a girl boxing, she looked like an 
athlete.  But looking good is one thing, taking a punch is 
another.

And I had a 49 pound weight advantage for giving and 
taking punches.  I'm 5'9" and weigh 176.  Rosemary is 5'6" 
and weighs 127.  I am proud to say that she has one helluva 
body.  I guess I've let my body slip since we got married, 
but she's actually gotten even better.  She measures 38D-25-
38 and her boobs are exceptionally firm.  Short sexy brunette 
hair and big brown eyes.  With assets like her chest and her 
rock hard buns, she does a mouthwatering job filling out a 
bikini.

Now I was supposed to go and punch that incredible body.  
You know that I was more than a bit reluctant.  I figured I'd go 
easy on her.  Even let her flail away a bit to get some of her 
anger and frustration out.  Then when she tired herself out 
maybe I could talk her into quitting.  Worse case scenario I'd 
have to punch her hard enough in the stomach a couple of 
times to take the fight out of her.

Rosemary was fully warmed up, a slight hint of perspiration 
on her forehead.  I realized I was starting the fight cold, 
having done nothing more than a dozen and a half push 
ups and watching her.  But hey, it wasn't like this was some 
professional fight.

What I didn't realize, having not taken this very seriously up to 
this point, was that as far as Rosemary was concerned this 
was a championship fight.  The championship of our 
marriage.  She wanted to rule the roost and do so with her 
fists.

"I suppose we should agree to some rules," I proposed.  
"Beyond no punching the head."

"I thought we'd fight three minute rounds.  One minute for rest.  
We'll just keep going until we both agree to stop or you give 
up." Rosemary suggested.

"Cute," I replied.  "Any other rules?"

"There's no one here to enforce them.  I assume you want a 
clean fight."

"Goes without saying." I answered.

"Okay then.  I'll set the clock for the first round.  And whatever 
happens, I want you to know that I'm doing this for your own 
good.  I've tried everything else and I can't get through to 
you.  You won't change.  You won't stop the drinking.  
Maybe this will knock some sense into you, literally and 
figuratively."

I think Rosemary was delivering that speech as much for 
herself as for me.  I think she wanted to psyche herself up for 
what she felt she had to do.

"I love you." I said.

"You ready?" she asked, picking up an electronic kitchen 
timer with a big digital display.  I shrugged my body to say 
yes and she set the timer and started closing the distance 
between us.

"Maybe we should have had gloves," I said, feeling so 
unnatural making a fist in front of her.

"Too late for that idea," she scowled, dropping into a 
crouch.

I know I felt nervous. Rosemary seemed strangely calm.  It's 
not that she didn't seem alert and ready to box, it's just that 
she seemed to know what she wanted to do and what was 
going to happen.  I thought I could diffuse things a little by 
being a bit playful.  Using my longer reach I kind of swatted 
at her, open palmed.

She brushed my hand aside and followed with a stinging jab 
to my upper arm.  I immediately felt this small ball of pain 
where she hit me.  "I'm not playing," she announced.

I went to jab her back in the arm, but she was countering 
before I got the punch off.  She hit me with a straight right to 
the upper chest that made a loud smacking sound as she hit 
me.  She immediately stepped forward and delivered a 
quick left right combination to my stomach.  I went "oof" 
when the second punch hit.  She danced back.

Less than a minute had gone by and Rosemary had shown 
me that she could stick and move and that she could throw 
a decent punch.  Maybe it was going to take a bit more 
effort on my part to make her stop.

For the next minute or so, she kept up the stick and move 
tactics, landing a fair number of punches to my upper arms.  
I was having far less luck connecting with her.  She was just 
that half a beat faster than me.

She glanced quickly at the digital timer and said, "Less than 
a minute in round one."  With that she changed tactics.  She 
stepped inside and started flailing away at my arms and 
torso, punching faster and harder than she had before.  At 
first I just tried to block her, but the punches were coming too 
fast and were too well aimed.  Then I tried clinching, but she 
just shoved me back a step and waded in again.  We 
stood toe to toe trading punches, well actually I was landing 
one for about every five she was connecting with, and 
though I wasn't punching my hardest, she didn't seem to 
notice when I did hit her.  Her body was really solid.  I could 
sure as hell feel her punches.

Just before the round ended Rosemary started to throw a 
looping left at my head.  I threw my hands up to protect 
myself when she slammed my stomach with a ferocious right 
hook that pulverized my unprotected belly.  It hurt so much I 
covered my gut with both hands and dropped to one knee 
just as the timer buzzed.

"Hey, no punching the head, remember?" I winced.

Rosemary just grinned.  "I didn't PUNCH your head.  I didn't 
touch your head.  I FAKED to your head to set up the hook.  
Looks like it had the desired effect."

"I held back that round," I said, still trying to recover.  "So if 
you're going to cheat, you're going to force me to get 
rougher."

"If I had hit you in the head I would have been cheating," 
she rebutted.  "But I didn't.  We had nothing in the rules 
against what I did.  But since you're threatening to get tough, 
just know for the record that I held back that round too."

"Yeah, sure," I said cynically.

"You won't last past the third round," she declared.

"Now what are you, the female Muhammad Ali, predicting 
the round?" I snickered.

"Float like a butterfly.  Sting like a bee.  Yeah, I guess that 
sounds like me."

Rosemary prepared to reset the timer for the next round.  I 
tried to breathe deeply and decide on a strategy for round 
two.  She was a lot better than I expected, but I still figured 
my size was going to prove to be my insurmountable 
advantage.  If she was predicting a quick end to the fight 
then she must be planning to pick up the pace like the end 
of round one.  I figured my original strategy of letting her fight 
herself out of steam was still a good one.

My guess was right.  Rosemary came out and swarmed me 
right at the start of round two, maintaining her high energy, 
high pressure attack.  She concentrated on my shoulders 
and arms, moving up and down, whacking away steadily.  I 
was taking a lot of shots, trying to conserve my energy, 
thinking she'd get winded and slow down, giving me my 
opportunity to score.  But then I noticed she wasn't slowing 
down a bit.  My arms were getting sore.  My strategy wasn't 
working.

"How long are you going to try to keep this up?  You'll punch 
yourself out," I warned her, thinking I could fool her into 
slowing down.

"When I work the heavy bag at the gym I often go five 
minute rounds," she said through clenched teeth. "So if 
you're thinking I'll punch myself out, think again."

I realized that she was leaving her midsection open by 
concentrating her firepower on my arms.  I hoped a quick 
left, right to her stomach, really hitting with both blows, would 
take her by surprise and that would be the end of it.

I waited until I thought I had the timing just right and hit her 
hard with a left hook and a hard straight right.  I repeat, hit her 
hard.  She made a little grunting sound but I swear my fists just 
bounced off her rock solid abs!  She danced back a few 
steps -- maybe she felt the punches a little -- and grinned at 
me, tapping her tummy.

"Like hitting a wall, right?" she complimented herself.  "If you 
did as many crunches a day as I do, you'd have a stomach 
this hard too.  But as we saw at the end of the last round, 
hitting you is like hitting a pillow."

"Sneaky punch," I objected.

"Like my knockout?"

"Exactly."

"I wonder what your next stupid excuse will be," she scoffed.

Rosemary came at me with potent uppercuts slamming into 
my chest, driving me backwards and making it hard for me 
to breathe.  Then she went back to my sore arms and kept 
hitting them harder and harder until they felt heavy and 
leaden to me.  She punched right through my increasingly 
feeble attempts at defense and seemed impervious to my 
counterpunches.

I tried to clinch her to contain her fury but her right arm got 
loose.  She blasted my gut with two huge shots that left me 
groaning and doubling over.  She stepped back and I 
almost pitched forward but Rosemary connected with a left 
uppercut to my chest that straightened me up.  She 
followed with her hardest punch, a straight right, right in the 
middle of my chest that knocked me to the floor.

She stood over me waving her fist yelling, "Get up!  Get up!  
Anything sneaky about those punches?"  At that point the 
buzzer sounded, ending the round.  I'd been saved by the 
proverbial bell.

I just lay there on the mat, dazed, trying to figure out what 
had happened in the last round.  She'd just demolished me!  
My so-called size advantage didn't mean shit.  Rosemary 
packed amazing power in her punches and she knew how 
to use it.  In just two rounds, especially the last one, she'd 
completely overwhelmed me.

Rosemary paced around the room, obviously waiting for 
the next round to begin so she could pick up where she left 
off.  Her imposing body glistened with sweat, but there 
wasn't the slightest sign of fatigue.  If anything, it looked like 
she'd just really gotten going.

"I never imagined what an incredible rush this would be," she 
gushed, half talking to me, half talking to herself.  Rosemary's 
nipples got erect.

Oh, good, I thought.  My wife's whipping the crap out of me 
and getting off on it.  I didn't think my prospects looked great 
for the next round, but prospects be damned.  There was 
too much at stake for me to quit.  I hauled myself to my feet 
just as the minute rest period ended.

Rosemary cocked her right fist and knocked me down with 
her second punch, a heavy looping right that hammered 
my chest like an anvil.

"I would have knocked you out if your head wasn't off limits," 
she taunted me as I struggled back to my feet.  "Give up 
before you get hurt."

"No way," I wheezed, barely able to keep my hands up.  
She stepped inside, brushed my hands aside and went to 
work on my stomach, a blur of solid punches thudding 
against my weak gut.  It hurt so bad I thought I was going to 
throw up.

I fell against her but she was able to hold me up.  She started 
throwing hooks to my sides, the searing pain adding to the 
damage already done to my middle.  I was gasping and 
nearly in tears.  She buried a right hook into my belly with 
such power that she lifted me off my feet.  I fell to both knees.

"The round's not half over yet.  Give up." she declared.  From 
my neck to my waist all I could feel was pain.  My muscles 
were tender and swollen and I could feel the bruises 
forming.  I was a mess.  I couldn't breathe and I wasn't sure I 
could stand up.  Rosemary stepped right in front of me and 
pulled my head back so I was staring up at her.  Looming 
over me, the hard wall of her stomach, the jutting rack of her 
ample breasts, the swelling muscles in her arms and 
shoulders, she seemed far larger than her 127 pounds.  But in 
reality she had reduced me with her strength and stamina.

"Admit it.  I beat you and I'm the boss." she ordered.  I could 
see the fierce determination in her eyes and I knew she 
would keep doling out the punishment until she broke me.  I 
knew I couldn't win.  As far as I was concerned, she was 
invincible, a rock solid fighting machine.

"I give.  You win." I said hoarsely.

"Fair and square?"

"Yes."

"And you're going to do as I say so you won't get beaten 
like this again?"

"Yes."  I was sure she could hear the resignation in my voice.

She shoved me flat on my back and sat on top of my chest.  
"Maybe someday you'll realize I'm doing this for your own 
good," she said.  "But from now on, you do as I say.  No 
hanging out in bars after work.  No coming home drunk.  Do 
you understand me?"

"Yes," I said meekly.

"Are your sure?" she yelled, bouncing up and down on my 
chest for emphasis.

"Yes!" I cried louder.  "Just don't hurt me."

"I really whipped your butt, didn't I?" she smirked, with a look 
of smug self-satisfaction.

"I never would have thought it could happen," I admitted.

"But now you're afraid of me."

"Let's just say I look at you differently now," I answered.

"No, I want to hear you say it," she pressed.  "I want to hear 
you say you're afraid of all this."  She struck a double biceps 
pose while inhaling deeply. Power and incredible sensuality 
oozed from her every pore.  I could tell that she was still very 
turned on by the whole experience.

I reached up to touch her biceps, still astounded by their size 
and hardness.  "Scary, huh?" she teased.

"Unbelievable," I replied.

She pulled my hands off her arms and suddenly pinned my 
wrists over my head.  "Admit it," she barked.

"All right.  I admit it.  I'm a little scared of you now, seeing how 
well you fight." I confessed.

"Just a LITTLE?" she asked.  "Am I going to have to beat it out 
of you?"

"Please, no!" I exclaimed.

She giggled with glee, enjoying my fear.  "Looks like I might 
just have to," she said.  She leaned forward and smacked 
my face with her breasts.  "Will this do the trick?" she teased, 
enjoying her dominance.  She hit me again and again with 
her boobs.  I knew she was getting off on it.

But the truth of the matter was I was getting off on it too.  In 
spite of the punching punishment I'd absorbed, as 
Rosemary started hitting me with her gloriously full and firm tits, 
I started getting hard.  All seven and one half inches.  My 
erection brushed against her.  She grinned in 
acknowledgment.  One of her hands slipped down and 
began to fondle me.

"What's this all about?" she cooed.  "Look how big and hard 
I got you.  Just think how easy it would be for me to jerk you 
off.  I can do anything I want to you.  Your cock belongs to 
me."  She rubbed her breasts against my face again.  It was 
all I could do to keep from ejaculating.

"Who's the boss?" she asked insistently.

"You are," I replied.

"Who gives the orders?"

"You do."

"And do you do as I say?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Cause otherwise you'll hit me."

"Good.  I'm glad you understand."

Rosemary had never masturbated me before, but then 
again she'd never beaten me up either.  Her insistent 
pumping had my balls churning with feverish intensity.  There 
was nothing I could have done to keep from ejaculating.  I 
cried out and shot off a huge load.

"And now you're going to show your appreciation for my 
beating you up and beating you off," she smiled, slithering 
up my body.  She spread her pussy lips apart and pulled my 
face between her legs.  "Get to work.  It's going to be a 
long afternoon." she ordered with a lusty sigh.

The End

Copyright 1995.  All rights reserved.