Nope!

“This is what you wanted, right? No more pesky clit or ovaries for the fighters to take advantage of, so you can stay in the ring longer?” you ask.

“Urrrgh... but... I can’t... take any more... nnnhhh...” she groans, struggling to speak while in agony.

“Now... what kind of a coach would I be if I didn’t push you past your limits?” you ask chidingly.

“Huh? No... no wait! HRRK!!”

She tries to move, to twist out of the way or move her arms to deflect your blow, but she’s too weak and her arms just flop about a bit ineffectually as you stomp your foot into her lower tummy.

“HYCK!... UGK!... GCK!... UGH!... OHH!... UNH!... URHhh!... UHhh!... EYAGH!...”

All Leesa can do is yelp helplessly as she lays there like a ragdoll while your foot drives repeatedly into her tummy just a few inches above her bare pussy.

A few dozen stomps later, you scoop her up off the ground in her arms and then drop her onto your knee with a backbreaker. She grunts in pain, but just lies across your thigh, arched backward with the expanse of her tummy stretched out in front of you.

You push her head back with one hand under her chin, keeping her bent backward and in place. You push the fingers of your free hand into her lower tummy, feeling through her weakened lower abs.

“Hmm, good,” you mumble to yourself.

You can feel that her ovaries are swollen from the stomping they’ve just received. They’re easy to find, and she whimpers a little as you press against them with your fingers.

Balling your hand into a fist, you drive a sharp punch into her right ovary. She gives a little squeal, and you hit it again.

Six punches in... *Squish*. You feel the ovary break under your fist.

“Gaaaahhhh!” she cries out.

Ten more punches to the same spot ensures that her right egg is scrambled for good. Without giving her a break, you start punching her left ovary.

She has gone completely limp and you wonder if she has lost consciousness after all, but it doesn’t stop you.

Eight punches this time before... *Squish*.

“Urrrgghh!!” she groans. Either she was conscious after all, or the agony of her left ovary popping has woken her up again.

Either way, she is awake as you give her the customary ten more punches to reduce her broken left egg to mush.

Your job done, you push Leesa off your knee, letting her roll unceremoniously onto the floor.

You press a button on your desk phone and just say “medic, my office.”

A gruff acknowledgement on the other side of the line confirms they received your message and the medic team are on their way.

Leesa lies there on her side in the middle of your office floor. You’re not sure if she now regrets her own request, but it sure was fun for you!

The end?