Me's hands

“So, you’ve chosen my gentle hands,” Me says, sitting on her chair, rubbing those hands together. “I bet you can just imagine them running over your body, or over that big hard cock until it explodes... but I’m afraid it’ll just be a boxing match.” She gets up from her chair. “But don’t worry, I’d not subject you to bare-knuckle fighting, not this time,” she says as she reaches behind her chair and pulls out two pink boxing gloves, and starts to lace them up. It’s not until she starts to walk up to you, that you notice they’re covered in tiny spikes.

She stands there in a fighting stance, while you hang there, ****. She smiles as she gets ready, seeing the fear in your eyes.

“Ding! Ding! Round one,” she says, and unleashes an explosive series of blows to your body, counting them as she does so. One and two are to your ribs, your body flinching, then three to six hit your chest, making you groan in agony, while seven and eight are beneath the belt, making you scream, begging her to stop, and nine and ten are to your jaw, although you don’t remember her saying ten, all you remember is darkness, then coming back to your senses as she finishes counting “...9... 10.”

She starts to untie her gloves, the spikes now red with your blood. “I guess it ends on a knockout,” Me says, disappointment in her voice. “We only made it to round one. Maybe, if this game goes on long enough, we’ll make it to round ten.”