The fight, pt2: the aftermath [MF, CNC, dubious consent, violence]

While I blew him he took off his gloves, then slowly and methodically undid his wraps. Then he undid my headguard and ruffled his hands through my hair. My own hands were still encased in my gloves which made me feel even more powerless than I otherwise would. I’d been blowing him to the best of my ability but clearly he wanted to emphasise his dominance of me, so at a certain point he took my head in his hands and facefucked me until he came salty ropes into my mouth.

He had let out one satisfied grunt at that moment, but otherwise he kept up a facade of being calm and methodical. He curtly ordered me to lift my hands above my head, and then brusquely pulled off my sports bra. My oversize tits spilled out, a sight I know he’d been waiting to see for years, and yet if them made any impression on him at all he didn’t show it. Instead he simply ordered me to hold out my hands and he pulled off first each glove and then each wrap in turn. Then he ordered me to lie down with my arms above my head and, using one of my wraps, he firmly bound them to each other around one of the ring’s stanchions. I was already utterly defeated but by binding me in this way he emphasised my helplessness.

The fight [MF, CNC, violence]

He was one of the assistant coaches at my gym. He wasn’t my main coach, but he’d done pads with me many times, he’d done a lot of conditioning work with me, and he’d been in my corner for a few of my fights.

I’d been crazy about him from the beginning. I loved his strength and his wiry frame, muscular but not muscle bound. I loved his sharp jaw and his stubble. I loved that he was so tall he made me feel small. Tall girls almost never get to feel small. I loved that he was relentless and uncompromising but was always having fun and so always made it fun. I loved that he seemed to find me hilarious and could barely stop laughing when he worked with me.