He's too strong...

I got panicked. The speed and power of the strikes is abnormal. I refuse to think and walk towards the wall, even knowing that it will offer me no shelter. The boy lands two powerful kicks on my thighs and I writhe in pain. My guard is still up but the male giant is upon me. He starts punching my hips. I feel the wall behind and soon realize that I can't breathe properly anymore. My arms reach down to repair my body from that endless flurry but with little success. I know Jonathan isn't pulling at full strength right now because otherwise I'd be meat for slaughter...nonetheless, these blows on my sides hurt. As my guard drops, my face is left exposed and the guy takes advantage of this to slap me humiliatingly, first to the right and then to the left, and then again and again. I realize I'm crying and I don't know why. Suddenly, his hands come forward and grab my two breasts; he pushes me against the wall, squeezing them as if they were made of playdough. "No!! Wait!!", I scream, while he screws my nipples. He enjoys my pain, I can read it in his blazing green eyes. What is happening between the two of us just confirmed what he always thought about women. The guy's face comes closer and his teeth bite my lips. A spill of blood comes out. Surrounded by pain all over, I barely notice that his knees are pounding on my legs, so finishing their nasty wrecking job. I try to stop him at least there, but any fantasy that our legs could have been similar in size or power after this close contact just evaporates. After just a minute into the fight, I already regret everything. I regret my nudity, I regret my pride, I regret that short-lived illusion of being a strong tower of femininity. He is strong, not me.

Jonathan bows, hugs my battered legs and quickly charges me on his shoulders. My feet lose contact with the floor, and his brawny arms lift me up in the air. I see the floor now, but under me I glance at the broad shoulders and bulging biceps of the guy ready to slam me down. This is a WWE situation, with the detail that it's real. I feel powerless. Hefting heavy objects has always been a clear sign of masculinity. In the case of wrestling, it is also a display of superiority over an impotent opponent. But in intergender confrontations, like this one, it is just the definitive signal to the small lifted woman that she has overstepped and needs to reconsider her position. This is what will happen with me. "What are you doing?? Jonathan!!" I cry out afraid. "I'm about to teach to a boastful milf a lesson !", he chuckles. "You already did!! I've got enough....Jona...I give in...", I implore with a girlish squealing. "Oh really? Already?? I was hoping for something more...", he replies, suddenly dropping me down. I close my eyes but my back lands almost gently on the couch. The barechested lad perches on me and blocks my two arms under his knees on the two sides. "We were discussing slapping before on this same sofa, do I remember it correctly?" he demands, and immediately restart whipping my cheeks. As soon as my face meets his hand, it gets red hot. "I was kidding...hold on...", I implore, "I made a...terrible...mistake..."; my words were pouring out shattered as the splinters of a broken glass that just discovered not to be a diamond. Jonathan chortles amused, stops the slapping and lays the sole of his right foot straight over my mouth. This is the first time that a man dares to do this to me.