Make her submit by punishing her with belly punches.

You brush your fingers lightly, almost sensually, over her belly, stopping just above the line of her panties. She tenses, expecting you to start fingering her again, but you have something else in mind for her.

“I have to admit, these are pretty impressive abs,” you tell her, tracing your fingers over the muscles. “All toned and defined...they must be pretty tough.”

“You better believe it,” she sneers, apparently starting to get some of her old confidence back.

“Oh, I do,” you reply. “Let’s see how long they can hold out.”

So saying, you wind up and deliver a powerful punch right to the Cowgirl’s gut.

She gasps and clutches onto the ropes for support, but still fixes you with a fierce glare. “That the best ya got?”

“Not even close,” you say with a chuckle, and proceed to prove it beyond doubt. It takes a little longer this time for her to pull her head up from the slump it falls into.

“Safeword’s always there,” you remind her.

“Thanks, but I’m a big girl. I can handle myself,” she whispers back.

“Suit yourself,” you shrug, and punch her belly again. Her resistance is starting to fade, but she’s still defiant for now.

Her body is stretched out before you, displayed in nothing but her skimpy American-flag bikini for your viewing pleasure. You pause your onslaught for a moment to look her over. She’s a sight to behold, even restrained by the ropes—her creamy skin shimmers with sweat, bruises are forming on her stomach where you’ve punched her, and her hair (now free of her hat, discarded long ago) is disheveled and wild, but she’s still making her best effort to stay on her feet and outlast the punishment you’re dealing out.

God, she’s hot like this.

But the Cowgirl can’t resist you forever. Even now, she’s starting to fade. You intensify your ****, watching as the jarring blows make her tits bounce up and down. On a whim, you slip your hand under her bikini to grab one and start fondling it, while still continuing to punish her with the other.

“Just one little word and this can all be over,” you remind her.

Dinah stares at you, lips sealed. You have to admire her fighting spirit—clearly the equal of your own—but you also have a match to win. You cock your arm back one more time...

“Alright, alright!” she shouts hastily. “Uncle. Uncle, dammit. Let me go.” You give the breast in your hand a quick squeeze before releasing her.

Ever the sportsman, you even help her free her arms from the ropes. She stumbles at first and struggles to rise, but to your surprise it’s only a few moments before she’s standing tall again, ready to pay you back with interest for the pounding you just gave her.

You’ve won a point for a submission.