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By Anonymous (address withheld)

Mike had discovered that his wife, Martha, was having a lesbian relationship with her self-defense instructor, Anne. Mike tried to break it up but was beaten up by Anne, stripped naked and forced to masturbate in front of the girls of the self-defense class. Completely subjugated, Mike had to agree to Anne moving in with Martha. Mike became the women's domestic slave.

Martha had experienced a welter of emotions since her husband had been put in his place. She had been thrilled to see her huge hunk of a husband fall before the savage fighting skills of her slender female lover. Then, as she watched the man she'd married being reduced from a proud male to a sobbing wreck by the merciless young girl, she had felt a pang of sympathy for him.
Now, as he slunk about the house, his house like a beaten cur, scared of his own shadow, jumping to obey every command, however outrageous, all she could feel was contempt for him.
Anne forced him to go naked around the house. She gave him an impossible list of tasks to complete, then beat him up if they weren't done. Her favorite punishment was to make him stand before her, feet astride, hands on head. Then she would smile up at the man who towered over her, tense with terror, then drop him with a knee to his well-hung balls.
"I can't understand why he just stands there and takes it?" asked Martha to her new lover, as the girls lay in bed together. "Even I would try to fight back! He's just a muscle-bound wimp I guess! And you," she breathed, snuggling into the girl, "are just a gorgeous little man-beating bully!"
"True," said Anne, smugly. "I love having a male slave and keeping him subjugated. All men should be slaves to women. That way the world would be a much better place. For women anyway. And, of course, we could enslave men if we wanted to. Any woman can beat up a man if she just takes the trouble to learn how. You've been coming to my classes for six months now. You could beat Mike up just like I did...if you wanted to!"
"What! Me! Never. He's twice my size, stronger, bigger..."
"Slower, more stupid, less skilful, less stamina, less will power, lower pain threshold, and he has a lovely big set of delicate balls. Any man, no matter how big, or how powerful he is," said Anne, "can always be brought down by a girl. All she has to do is kick him in the balls, hard! Fighting isn't about size and strength; it's about skill, determination, speed and the ability to think coolly under pressure. You could beat him all right.
"You're ready! Even a big powerful guy like Mike is no match for a girl who knows what she's doing! I think we ought to go down to the gym tomorrow before class and get the two of you in the ring. Think what a lovely feeling it will be when you've got him lying at your feet, crying for mercy, just like he did when I kicked the shit out him! I'm so sure you'll win I'm going to make Mike an offer he can't refuse so that he'll do his best to beat you, but he won't succeed!"
Having persuaded Martha into combat, Anne summoned Mike and told him what was going to happen. "And if you win, I'll go away," said Anne, "and you can have your wife back." She took hold of him by the balls and looked up into the man's face. "But you're not going to win, are you Mikey," she twisted his balls until his face contorted with pain, "because your wife is a woman, and a woman who is a better fighter than you!"

The next day, Mike, naked as usual in the presence of Anne, climbed into the ring with mixed feelings. He wasn't sure if he wanted Anne to go. He found her domination of him sexually arousing. Although assuming an air of permanent dejection, Mike had never felt so alive. The thrill of being punished by an attractive girl outweighed the humiliation he had to endure at her hands. The tension and fear as she lined him up to kick his balls, then the erotic ecstasy of looking up from the ground at the smooth limbs and curvaceous body of the girl who had floored him, made the blood course through Mike's veins in a way it never had before, until his cock surged in glorious, rampant erection.
Yet, here was a chance to regain his manhood. If he beat his lovely young wife, then he could call the shots.
Well, it shouldn't take long, Mike thought. Martha was a tiny chit of a girl, 5'5" and 120lbs. A puff of wind would blow her over, and she'd always been a gentle, submissive soul. Now she stood, in the opposite corner, ready to fight him, wearing the black cotton briefs he liked most and a white aertex sports shirt which made her look positively virginal and extremely vulnerable.
Mike felt his cock begin to rise as he took in the sight of his sexy little wife in the outfit she knew turned him on more than any other. He forced himself to think of the contest and resolved to end this farce quickly and get his life back.
When Anne gave the signal, he walked purposefully forward with the intention of grabbing his Elfin-sized wife in a bear hug and squeezing her into him until she submitted to his masculine strength.
Martha waited, outwardly coy, yet her stomach churning with apprehension as the massive figure of her husband bore down on her. She knew the effect her outfit of black briefs and white shirt had on him and expected that he would be reluctant to hurt her. But she couldn't believe he'd be so stupid as to leave himself wide open like this!
As Mike reached out his muscle-laden arms to grab her, Martha reacted to a situation she'd been in a dozen times in practice. The girl kicked her husband in his balls. With a howl of distress, Mike folded over; clutching his balls, and sank moaning to the canvas.
Martha was shocked by what she'd done. She knelt beside her stricken mate, full of concern, and put her hand on his heaving shoulder. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Mike. I didn't mean to hurt you, it just happened. Are you all right?"
After the initial shock of the kick to his balls, Mike recovered rapidly. He was used too much worse treatment from Anne, so didn't feel too badly hurt. Now, all he wanted to do was repay the girl who had hurt him, and here she was, kneeling beside him, asking if he was all right!
Mike reached out as though pleading for help. Then, as the concerned woman went to his aid, he pulled her frail body into him and wrapped his arms round her slender waist. "Gottcha!" he cried, triumphantly, as the girl let out a screech of alarm. "Now give in before I crush your ribs in!"
For a moment Martha was so furious at her treacherous husband, that she didn't appreciate the predicament she was in. "You rat!" she hissed. "I wanted to help you, and you pull this dirty... Ow!"
Mike applied some pressure, and brought the girl back to reality. He had rolled onto his back, and held the her on top of him, his arms round her body, pinning her to his barrel like chest so that her head rested under his chin.
He squeezed her. "You'd better give in, my love," he said, not unkindly, "before I break your ribs. I don't really want to hurt you, so come on, give!" He applied more pressure. Martha's body went limp. With a grunt of satisfaction, Mike let go and began to roll her aside. Then she was on him. Before he knew what was happening, the lithe young woman thrust herself onto his chest, grabbed the astonished man by the hair and jabbed her delicate fingers into his eyes.
There was no mercy now in Martha's heart. Her husband's treacherous attack had awakened all her dormant aggression. All she wanted to do was hammer the man to defeat. She balled her tiny fists as Mike screeched in pain and brought his hands up to his smarting eyes.
Mercilessly, she straddled his chest and smashed punches into his throat and face, loving the sound of her female fist smacking into male flesh.
Mike's arms came up to ward off the girl's attack and Martha rolled away and sprang lightly to her feet.
Eyes watering, Mike also tried to get to his feet, but was much slower than his agile young wife. As he rose on hands on knees, the pumped up virago drove her foot into his ribs. Mike's body jolted with the force of the blow but he kept coming. The girl caught him again as he got onto one knee, her foot driving into the side of his jaw, smashing his large head round to one side, almost causing him to topple over again. But Mike was strong. He pushed himself upright into a boxer's crouch and tried to focus on the tiny female fury who was causing all his pain.
"I can be tricky, too, lover boy," taunted Martha. "Now you're going to find out what it's like to be beaten up by your wife!" Fists whirling, the deadly young woman tore into her huge male adversary. This wasn't her husband any more. This was an enemy, and enemy to be destroyed. A man to be conquered by a woman. With deadly efficiency, she began to take him apart.
Unable to see properly, Mike found it impossible to counter his wife's attack. His fists shot out with awesome power, but they didn't connect with anything as the nimble woman ducked and weaved, swayed out of danger, then struck back with fists like rapiers.
Toe to toe, the fighters waded into each other; two magnificent specimens of their respective genders. A huge, powerfully built, broad shouldered male against a gorgeous, lithe, curvaceous, graceful female. Brute male strength against female agility. And as they fought, it was the woman who began to win the battle.
Again and again her punches ripped through the man's defenses, while his own attacks floundered on empty air.
Mike's arms began to feel like lumps of lead as he started to tire. Every time his eyes cleared a little to allow him to focus, a female fist smacked into them, and everything blurred over once more.
The girls of the self-defense class were arriving now, chattering and squealing excitedly as they saw what was going on in the ring. They were just in time to see the massively muscled, naked male fighter being slowly driven back before the flashing fists of his diminutive female opponent.
Anne watched proudly as her pupil and lover maneuvered her male victim into a corner. Mike was taking hits from all directions now, and, although none of his wife's punches were devastatingly heavy, the cumulative effect of her blows was considerable. Both the man's eyes were puffed up, his top lip was split, a trickle of blood seeped from his nose and his muscle-slabbed stomach was a red blotch where her fists had wreaked their destruction.
Mike was desperate to get away from his wife's relentless attack. He couldn't believe that he was being thrashed like this by the gentle little girl he'd married. How could a girl half his size do this to him! He'd fought dozens of men as big and as strong as himself in the ring, and never had he taken so much punishment as he was receiving from the slip of a girl who was hammering him right now. Ignominiously, he tried to escape by running along the ropes!
Gleefully, Martha leapt after her fleeing husband and tripped him before he'd gone three yards. The hulking great male grabbed at the ropes to stop himself falling, missed, and crashed to the canvas.
Martha was on him in a flash. Dropping onto his broad, muscular shoulders, the girl smacked her fist into the back and side of the man's neck, looking to strike his carotid artery to finish him off. Somehow she missed, then she marveled at her husband's great strength as he rose to his knees with her still astride his back, smashing her fist into his neck as she held onto his hair with her other hand.
Mike determinedly ignored his wife's attack as he caught hold of the top ring rope and began to pull himself upright. The massive muscles in his thighs bulged with effort as the powerfully muscled male drove himself erect, determined to crush the tormenting female on his back by falling backwards on top of her.
But Martha was having none of it. Realizing she didn't yet have enough knowledge to crush his carotid, the girl leapt from her husband's back before he could do her any harm. She also realized that she too was tiring. The pounding she had inflicted on her husband had sapped much of her strength.
The man's massive body had absorbed a terrific amount of punishment from her fists but he was still upright and still capable of fighting back. Now she needed to finish him off. She needed to bring her strong, smoothly tanned, curvaceous legs into action.
As Mike turned to face her, his guard going up to protect his head and upper body, the girl drove her foot with devastating force into his stomach. Muscles, which had stood out in majestic definition at the start of the fight, had been pulped by her murderous fists. They could take no more.
For a moment, it looked as if the huge man was impaled on the girl's foot as it sank into his gut. His thick penis jumped up with the shock of the impact and slapped against her slender ankle before it flopped down again to shudder between his mighty thighs. Then, with a woosh of expelled air, Mike doubled up.
Grabbing his head in both hands as it came down, the nubile young girl smashed her knee into the bewildered man's battered face. The force of the blow jerked Mike's body upright for a second. Blood flew from a broken nose as his huge frame shuddered with the impact, then he began to collapse.
Like a flash, the graceful woman whirled round, so her back was towards the stricken male, slid one slim arm round his neck as his mighty body crumbled, dropped to one knee, and, using the momentum of his body's descent, hauled downwards and sent the massive male flying in a tangle of nerveless limbs and flopping dick over her slender shoulder to crash in a heap on the canvas.
Martha dropped alongside him and, holding her right wrist with her left hand used her right elbow as a cudgel to smash down again and again into his jellied stomach, accompanying each blow with shout of "yes! yes! yes!" until he stopped moving.
Mike was sprawled on the floor, winded, unconscious, legs and arms splayed in the shape of a cross as Anne and her students cheered Martha as she stood over the helpless male fighter.
Before Mike's treacherous attack on her, Martha would have left the matter there. Now she was determined to destroy him! Her husband lay helpless at her feet. She, a slip of a girl, had smashed this big, strong, powerful, massively built male into ignominious defeat. She was elated, but she wanted more. She wanted to beat him so convincingly that he'd never challenge her again. She wanted to destroy his manhood, destroy his will to fight, humiliate and humble him before her, a woman!
Sinuously, she sauntered across the ring until she stood over his naked prostrate body. Her eyes ran over his magnificent physique, a physique which she'd always believed to be so superior to her own -- that she'd never considered even to challenge male physical dominance. Now this magnificent male animal was at her mercy. She looked down with contempt at his shriveled penis, knowing how big and bold it had been when she had played the submissive. Look at it now, she thought with satisfaction.
The Martha straddled his heaving chest as he began to recover his senses. Cruelly she picked her spot and drove her fist into his once handsome, now bloodied face. She grasped him by the hair, then brought her clenched fist down like a mallet into her moaning husband's mouth. Then she hit him again, and again..
The girls in the audience watched in awe as the sweet looking little girl, with calm deliberation, smashed her husband's face to a battered mess. "You can beg me to stop, dear husband," mocked Martha, "and I'll stop beating you, otherwise..." Her fist clubbed into an already broken nose.
"Please stop," moaned Mike. "I beg you. Don't hit me any more." Tears rolled down his broken face as he begged his little wife to stop punching him. His brain was numb with shock. The woman he'd married had smashed him to defeat in a fight and made him beg her to stop hitting him.
Now she was standing up. Martha stood over the defeated body of her husband. She straddled his deep, manly chest, hands on shapely female hips, her small, perfectly formed breasts straining against the fabric of her white halter-top as they swelled with feminine pride at her momentous victory.
Mike saw her. Through his tears and blood, through swollen eyes, he looked up at the beautiful vision who stood in triumph over him and his cock began to swell in tribute to her beauty and her victory over him.
The young women in the audience laughed and giggled as they saw Mike's thick cock swell into a massive erection as he lay under the feet of his female conqueror. Someone tittered, "He likes it, hey, Mikey likes it." They all laughed at the joke.
Martha realized what was happening and stepped back from her man's body. "Get up!" she ordered.
Slowly, every movement causing him pain, Mike pulled himself to his feet. "Feet astride, hands on head!" barked his wife, and Mike knew what was coming.
He wanted to resist, to hurl himself at the little chit of a girl who was humiliating him in front of all of these other women, to beat her to the ground with his mighty fists and re-establish his male supremacy. But his will had gone. The girl had smashed all the spirit out of him. A beaten man, he did as the woman commanded.
Disgust welled up in Martha as she watched her mighty husband's willpower crumble before her own. No one should just stand there and get beaten without putting up a fight, she thought, especially a man before a girl. What a despicable coward lies under all that mass of male muscle. He's too scared to try to stand up to me any more!'
Boldly the girl turned her back on the man who's will she had destroyed, knowing that he was totally cowed and would not even think about attacking her now. She held her arms up in triumph for the girls to cheer - a victorious woman who had smashed a mighty man to defeat and subjugated him to her will.
Then, turning back to her trembling male victim, she looked up into the battered, tear stained face of her once respected husband, held him by the bulging muscles of his biceps and disdainfully smashed her knee into the terrified man's dangling balls doubling him over in pain. She watched as his once magnificent erection shrunk to a shriveled little noodle as he rolled on the floor in pain.
Triumphantly, Martha climbed from the ring into her lesbian lover's welcoming arms, while her husband continued writhe in agony, crying into the canvas.