The goth high school chick knocks out the experienced boxer

Marcus stood across the ring from the busty bitch who’d challenged him. She lounged back on the corner ring post, looking confident, arms resting on the top ropes. Her massive bust stuck out towards Marcus with pride as he eyed her up. She hadn’t even taken off the silver crucifix necklace for the match, and it still sat in her deep cleavage.

The artistic white skulls doodled on each of her black boxing gloves was not the only addition she’d made to her “touch of ****” gloves, though Marcus didn’t know that. He was sure about to find out. In her spare time, she’d also loaded both of them, adding extra weight and punching power to any stroke she threw. She’d worked hard to pack it all in there without making the gloves look an abnormal shape, or having any obvious parts where the glove was cut open to get inside. She’d been planning this for a while. Pacifica was a rebellious spirit, and nothing pleased the goth teenager more than the idea of knocking out some prideful male boxer dick, so she was willing to work for it. Even if she never put this much effort into her classes.

“Still time to back out.” Marcus offered to the high school girl he was about to fight.

“Well, if you feel like you should,” Pacifica replied, giving her bust a little shake. “Given your options are back out or black out, I wouldn’t hold it against you.”

Marcus blinked. Even now, standing across from him in a boxing ring, she was so sure she would knock him out. There was a look in her eye like it was a forgone conclusion. Like it was a guarantee that she would hit him in the head and he would drop to her feet ****. Like it was fate. He couldn’t believe her arrogance.

Couldn’t she see that he was a 6’1” man, covered in lean muscle, and she was barely 5’2”? Eighteen years old to Marcus’ 35? A girl up against a man? How could this big-titty goth shortstack be so sure of herself, lounging back on the ring post across from him? What gave her the confidence to think she could just one-two Marcus on the chin and the fight would be over, with him lying sleeping at her feet?

The match began and Marcus marched forward in an offensive fighting stance, not nearly as cautious of her "touch of ****" as he should've been. His mistake. Pacifica grinned, pushed off of the ring post, and strutted up to meet him in the middle of the ring, her own decorated black gloves raised in a high school girl's poor idea of a fighting stance. Honestly, Marcus had no regard for her as a genuine threat as he danced around her throwing jabs to test out the range and get into a rhythm so he could really take her out. Which is why he was taken so off guard when he suddenly got cracked.

Marcus had let one of her punches slip through while firing off with one of his own, seeing it as a worthwhile trade given the fact that this young girl certainly posed no threat to him... right? That misconception was quickly corrected when her shot landed on the side of his face with staggering ****, immediately making his eyes unfocus and roll around in his head as he barely kept his feet. As a result his own punch barely glanced by the goth girl's beautiful face, leaving no mark or serious impact beyond wafting her jet black bangs with the air it had shifted.

"U-ugggnhh!!" Marcus stumbled a few steps, completely taken aback by the power of this girl he was facing. He knew something was wrong the second he felt the power of her punch, but it took a few seconds for his mind to come back enough to start figuring out exactly why.

"Haha, got you!" Pacifica taunted like a brat as Marcus barely kept to his feet after just one punch from her. What was happening? How was he... so sloppy? He was an experienced boxer, and she was just...

Marcus gulped. That punch. It was harder than anything he’d ever been hit with, and it came from some busty goth shortstack. The same busty goth shortstack now licking her lips and eyeing up the taller man like he was her prey, totally hers for the taking, an arrogant leer in her eyes. Like it was just fate for him to lose. To get knocked all the way out.

Before Marcus was fully back to himself, Pacifica stepped forward and landed a hard shot to his gut, bending him over as the air rushed out of his mouth in a big "OOF!" It was all she needed to get his head back into her punching range.

With a corner-upturning smirk of her black-painted lips, she leaned forward to give a soft kiss onto his cheek, before smacking him across the face with a strike from her "touch of ****" gloves that was more akin to a dainty slap than anything else. It was enough.

Nausea flooded Marcus' mind and body, and from this point, there was no recovering anymore. He had lost. If left alone, it would still take close to forty minutes for him to get his mind back to himself, and the big-titted bitch had no intention of leaving him alone. His eyelids fluttered, and Pacifica giggled, watching his body sway side to side while his arms dangled limply.

Only one thought was left in his head - the last thought he'd had while his head was semi-coherent. Before his brain felt like it was wrapped in a big, soft pillow. Through broken, slurred speech, the experienced boxer did his best to vocalise this thought to his apparent superior, the newcomer high school chick.

"uhhh... y-you're cheating..." he mumbled weakly.

"Nah, you're just losing!" she replied confidently, reaching up on her tip-toes to tap him on the forehead a few times as if miming the way you might knock on a door. And with that, his mind left him.

His mind left him. For just a moment, he went out. Everything was dark. He was gone. ****. Defeated. When vision came back, admittedly without any of the higher brain function, he found himself leaning back in the corner of the ring totally dazed in a sort of mirror to how Pacifica had started the match. The only difference was that his legs couldn't support his weight, and instead of having his opponent eyeing him up from the other side of the ring, she was standing right in front of him laughing and making kissy faces to mock his weak appearance, and his dumb expression. Even if he looked awake, it was clear that nobody was home upstairs already. And she was taking advantage of the early knockout to be as playful with the loser as she wanted.

The young goth bitch was ecstatic. She'd came here to cheat, and she had hoped for results, but she hadn't expected it to be quite this much fun.

"You think you're soooo tough, don't you?" she teased, watching as his body fought to stay upright even leaning against the ring post. She stepped in and backhanded him across the face with one of her touch of **** gloves, knocking his face to the side and rendering him just a little bit stupider.

"Guuhhhnngh! Uhhhh..." he groaned, slumping even further down as his arms dangled over the top ropes either side of the post.

"Then how come I'm pounding on your face, hm? How come you're about to be defeated by a girl?" she asked.

Marcus couldn't hear her. It sounded like he was underwater. His brain was fuzzy, his vision cloudy. Foggy. He'd never felt like this. He'd never been put in a position like this. And now, this girl with the stacked tits who'd simply walked in and challenged him, had all but knocked him out for good. The stacked tits. God, those tits.

Not even thinking anymore, because he wasn't able to, Marcus barely managed to unhook his arms and stumble forward, eyes locked on those tits and the silver crucifix pendant which dangled in their deep cleavage. It was all he could think about. A 35 year old man, rendered stupid and obsessed with the soft and huge tits of the girl who was kicking his ass.

"Oh?" Pacifica mused. "Oh!"

Without warning, the stumbling Marcus fell to his knees in front of her and stuck his face between her heavy breasts, drooling on them in clear submission. It was almost a form of worship, as the fully-grown man knelt before the 18 year old girl with his face buried in her huge, soft tits. Pacifica let cute laugh at the sad sight.

"Oh, what's wrong old man? You getting tired?" she asked, teasingly. The busty goth chick had kicked the experienced boxer's ass with her cheater gloves on, and she was fucking loving every second of it. She just felt so powerful...

"unhhhhh..."

"Geez, you've just got no staying power, have you mister?" she gave her chest a little shake, watching as his head moved along with it and feeling the vibrations as he mumbled what might have been an attempted response into her cleavage. She giggled again at that. "Alright then. If you're ready for me to knock you out, old man, then just give in to my young fists. One more should do the trick..."

"no... no, no... nooo... I- I... you..."

Leaning back, one hand holding him up by his shoulders to keep him kneeling and make sure he didn't topple over, Pacifica pulled back the other hand with a wicked grin. Then, she let it launch. The punch landed right on the tip of his chin, and sent him flying backwards across the ring. He was asleep the instant her black gloves made contact with his chin, knocked out in a single moment, even as his limp body flew several feet and landed on his back in the corner of the ring, almost lying completely flat if not for his head which was sat partly up, supported by the ring post which had stopped his flight.

"Aannnddd... out like a light." she said, putting one hand to her hip and getting a full view on the prone form of sleepy Marcus. Some boxer he'd turned out to be. Down on the ground, fast asleep, limp. Pacified by Pacifica. Breathing slow and steady as he lay there. It was almost too easy, to be honest. He never stood a chance. Almost like... it was just his fate.

A final sigh escaped his parted lips, like the last air being released from a gas canister. A slow, long, quiet "hhuuhhhhhnn...". And that was it. He was done. He was beaten. He was the loser.

"The big bad boxer's all snoozy? Oh well." Pacifica commented with a half-hearted shrug, turning and lifting one of the ring ropes to step under it and out of the ring.

Leaving Marcus to rest off his total defeat, feeling like a real powerful badass rebel, the secretly enthusiastic goth chick picked up her school bag once more and walked off, still wearing her "touch of ****" gloves as she left the gym. It was exactly what she'd wanted out of it. A nice, total victory over some dickhead male who looked down on her. He'd even ended up drooling all over her tits, ha! The top of her bust shimmered and gleamed with the boxing loser's saliva.

It was perfect. It had gone just like she planned. She still felt the same excitement and power as she'd felt the first time she'd KO'd somebody thanks to a pair of loaded gloves, just a few days earlier. And now that she was hooked on this thrill, she was planning to take this train on a loooonngg journey with no end in sight. Thank goodness she'd discovered what fun there was to be had in punching chins until the owner was out cold beneath her. Putting boys to sleep was just the best.