Round 3 - Maledom

Round 3

The bell rang.

Ellie started the round with determination, clapping her gloves together to psych herself up. She wanted to avoid losing another round at all costs and hadn’t lost any of her confidence in the sixth.

I, on the other hand, had to take deep breaths to calm myself and my cock down and focus on finishing the match.

I met her in the center of the ring with a smile. “Ready, spark?”

“Ready to knock you out again.”

She threw a jab. I blocked it, felt the sharp crack of skin against skin, and responded with a cross that grazed her guard. She dodged my hook with the grace of a ballerina, brushing my hip with hers as she passed, and her counterattack hit me in the ribs: light, playful, just enough to make me grunt.

“You’re slow,” she teased.

“And you’re beautiful.” Made her blush, even now after all that happend during the match.

We circled each other, exchanging jabs that grazed our defenses, crosses that whistled past our cheeks, hooks that found nothing but air or padded skin. The rhythm between us grew increasingly intense: competitive, charged with tension, every punch an invitation to close the distance but at the same time a way to keep us at bay.

She stepped forward, unleashing a fluid combination. I blocked, dodged, and moved inside. She chased me, attempting a low clinch, and I let her penetrate my guard, feeling her breasts against my abdomen and her ragged breaths against my chest.

“Are you still close?” she whispered, pressing her thigh between my legs.

She could only moan and make a sound of agreement. "Mh-hm".

She pulled away from me, smiling, and threw a high hook toward my face, which I dodged to the side. I moved in until I was within her reach, feinted a jab, and then brought my gloved hand up to grasp her breast, squeezing it just enough to make her let out a moan.

“Cheater,” she accused me, but she didn’t pull away.

“I missed them.”

She let me get closer, and we shared a kiss, then she let me bite her neck and shoulders. She did the same, nibbling wherever she could, even around my nipples.

I moaned, sliding my hands down her hips and pulling her against my hard cock. She ground herself against me, her bikini bottoms completely soaked, and for a moment we completely forgot about the fight.

“The round has just begun,” she whispered in my ear.

“I know, I can’t help it…”

We separated, circling each other again, both of us panting heavily. My cock was throbbing with excitement and on the verge of exploding.

Now it was my turn to circle close to her, touching her whenever I could, aiming mainly for her hips and breasts. She tried to push me away with a jab, but I dodged it easily and blocked the cross that followed. In response, I landed two hard punches on her guard, forcing her to stumble backward, dazed.

“Have you decided to get serious?” she laughed, regaining her balance.

I smiled back at her and I invited her to attack me again. She lunged at me with renewed ferocity, using precise, technical combinations. I blocked most of them, letting a few get through so as not to undermine her confidence, but now I struck back: a jab at her guard that “slipped” to graze her chest, a straight hook to her ribs that instead made her breasts jolt. We were fighting and flirting through the gloves, as I began to take control of the match.

I grabbed her in a clinch, pushing her back toward the ropes. My thigh pressed between her legs, rubbing upward, and she moaned, her hands clinging to my shoulders as she tried to fight the pleasure.

“Jack—” I could feel the strength in her arms. Despite everything, she was trying to push me away.

“Can you still keep going?” I teased her, pressing harder.

“Of cours...!” But her hips betrayed her, swaying against my leg, seeking friction. I felt her desire soak through her bikini bottoms, coating my thigh, and I kept the pressure steady, relentless.

“Come for me,” I whispered in her ear.

She gasped, her body stiffened, and I felt the first jolt of her orgasm against my leg. She came with a high-pitched scream, her nails digging into my back, her whole body trembling in my arms. I held her close the whole time, gently, supporting her, my lips against her sweat-dampened hair.

"That's the third one" I counted softly, teasing.

She pulled back, her dark blue eyes glazed but fierce, and slapped my chest with her glove-playful.

"Are you keeping score now?"

"It makes a man feel good." I say, knowing she was loving every single orgasm I gave her.

She launched a sudden, desperate combination. I blocked it, dodged, and my counterattack hit her in the ribs: a controlled blow, but enough to make her bend slightly. She pretended to be hurt, and I hesitated, giving her time to respond with a powerful uppercut that struck my chin and sent my head snapping back. I staggered, dazed and taken aback by the sudden impact.

“It’s not over yet,” she whispered triumphantly.

I smiled, shook off the dizziness, and lunged at her again. We exchanged blows in the center of the ring, now with real violence, each punch heavy but never cruel. My jab hit her on the lip; her counterpunch hit me on the cheek, leaving a small mark. Despite the sweat and the first sight of blood, we both had silly grins plastered on our faces and joy in our eyes.

I grabbed her in a clinch again. “Do you want to stop?” I whispered, lowering my head to hers.

“Never,” she said, and kissed me—with force and passion—and a coppery aftertaste.

I guided her to the ropes, pressing her body between them and me. My hand found her panties, slipped inside, my fingers pressing into her damp heat. She was still sensitive from before, still trembling, and she moaned into my mouth as I caressed her.

“Jack… please…”

“Come for me again,” I whispered, curling my fingers inside her. “Let me hear your desperate moans.”

She tried to respond with a punch, but her glove only landed a weak blow beneath my ribs. Her body, however, was already betraying her: she squeezed my fingers tightly as yet another orgasm swept over her with a scream that echoed through the empty gym. She slumped against me, trembling, her gloves dangling down her side.

“That makes four,” I counted, in a tender voice.

She pushed me back with the palm of her hand against my chest, her face flushed, her balance unsteady. “I… I’m not done…”

“..yet. I know,” I interrupt her with a bit of mock in my tone, and hit her with a vicious combination. A jab to the face to steady her, followed by two hooks that sent her crashing back into the ropes. The punches were meant to motivate her rather than hurt her, and it worked great.

She came at me with a flurry of punches, now in the grip of genuine competitive rage, each punch sharp and ravenous. I blocked most of them, letting a few get through: a jab to the shoulder, a hook to the ribs that made me grunt. She pressed forward, sensing a sign of weakness, and her uppercut hit my chin, sending me reeling backward.

“Fuck you,” she spat out for the first time, but her voice was labored, her hips still swaying slightly, as if searching for contact, her low guard a sign of fatigue. But what mattered was her mocking smile, full of joy and competitive glee. She was enjoying it almost more than I was.

I felt inspired.

I anticipated her next move, pinned her arms, and lifted her up suddenly. She gasped as I sat her down on the upper ropes, her legs dangling and her balance precarious. I slid between her thighs, my hips pressed against her soaked bikini, my cock free to hump at her.

“Jack, what—”

“Trust me.”

I began to grind against her, slowly and deeply, the girth of my cock pressing against her clitoris through the thin fabric. She moaned, her gloved hands clinging to the ropes and to me to keep her balance, her head falling back. I kept up a steady, relentless rhythm, my hands on her hips holding her steady.

“I’m about to… I’m about to come again…” she gasped.

“Let yourself go,” I whispered, my lips against her neck. “Let me feel you. Let me take you.”

She came with a sob and a silent scream; her fifth orgasm swept over her, her whole body convulsing, her insides quivering against nothing but the pressure of my cock through the fabric of her tiny, soaked bikini. I held her close the whole time, gently, supporting her, then lifted her and laid her down on the floor when her legs gave out.

She stood there, staggering and trembling, her guard barely raised. I didn’t take advantage of my lead—not yet. I circled her, admiring her, my glove reaching out to brush against her breast, her hip, her jaw—always just grazing, always adoring.

“So what now? Are you giving up?” I asked her.

“Never!” she tried to exclaim, but her voice was a whisper. She tried to throw a jab, but it barely grazed my guard.

I responded with a simple combination of right and left punches, delivered in rapid succession, pushing her toward the corner. She tried to block, but her frail arms were now weak and trembling, and a single punch would send her reeling left and right. She had to use the corner to steady herself, as her legs were still shaking from the orgasm. I worked her with controlled precision, each punch landing with enough force to make her grunt, to drain her further, but never enough to truly hurt her.

“You’re mine,” I whispered, pushing her against the turnbuckle.

She moaned in response and let me hit her exposed stomach. It wasn’t a hard blow, but she exaggerated the damage, letting the punch itself lift her back up onto the ropes. Feeling my glove sink into her stomach made my cock throb.

I knelt down in front of her as she recovered, almost doubled over, and with my face level with her bikini, I pulled it down with one finger, then pressed my mouth against her before she could protest. She screamed, her gloved hands clutching the ropes above her, her hips writhing against my tongue.

“Jack… Jack…”

It didn't take long, not matter if I was skilled or not, my tongue didn't need to do much, because the fight had already made her incredibly horny.

She came with a scream, arching her whole body, her tousled white hair pressed against the pads at the corners. I held her tight the whole time, savoring her with my tongue, then I slowly stood up as she slumped against the ropes.

“Six,” I counted, standing in front of her, my cock throbbing in front of her face and my whole body consumed by desire and the urge to bring this all to a proper conclusion.

She looked at me, her eyes barely in focus, her lips swollen and her face streaked with exhaustion, but also joy. “Are you going to… knock me out?” she whispered.

“If you’ll let me.”

“Earn it!” she decleared, and raised herself and her gloves up with what little strength she had left.