Luna and Ryan had both joined an exclusive MMA club. In this case, the "mixed" martial arts referred as much to the sexes as to the styles of combat. Luna took to it much better than Ryan, who found the rule on male nudity difficult to come to terms with. While she was met with praise for the way she progressed each week, he received "helpful" tips on how to improve.

Luna, ever competitive, considered she could beat Ryan, and told him she wanted to fight him in the members’ cage. He was aghast at the idea. Above all (and privately), he was worried about losing; secondly, he thought and said it would damage their relationship.

Nonsense, said Luna, who guessed his real reason for objecting. But he was adamant: there was no way he was going to consent to fight his girlfriend. She appeared to accept this, but looked thoughtful all the same.

Within days, Ryan found out the reason for that look: he woke up to find she had fixed a chastity cage to his penis. (It happens all the time. You wake up one morning and – hey presto – there’s another one!) On the table beside the bed was a note from Luna which read:

"If you want me to unlock your cage, you will have to fight me about it. You will have to fight naked, too. I know you dislike it, but those are the rules. Don’t get in a rage, settle it in the cage."

The cheap rhyme did nothing to mitigate his feeling of being cheated. On the other hand, he was furious with her and he thought, okay if that’s what she wants, that’s what she’ll get, and he made haste to meet her in the members’ cage.

Yes, but – damn her – she did look fine in her black leotard. It suited her dark auburn hair, and clung tightly to her curvy figure and her pretty medium-sized breasts.

"Hello," she greeted him as he entered the cage, "I thought you’d come round to my way of thinking."

"As if I had any choice," he complained (with justification). "But okay, let’s do this, he concluded, raising his fists.

"That’s more like it!" she responded, raising hers, before lashing out with broadside right kick. Ryan instinctively ducked, which had the undesired effect of placing his head in the firing line; on the other hand, instinct also made him protect his head and the kick just gave him a sore arm. It was bad enough, but better than the head. 

He correctly guessed that she would try the same thing again and met her second, left kick with his arm, putting it way off course. Undeterred, Luna got him with a right kick to his left leg in the worst place, just beside the knee. His leg went weak and he had to slide to avoid using it directly when he retreated.

Still, he was able to ward off a left body kick with his arm, and he noted her beginning to pant. It was all very well, this kicking performance, he thought, but it used up a lot of energy.

Luna may have been panting a little, but she certainly seemed to be enjoying herself, smiling broadly as Ryan dropped down urgently under a frontal head kick. Despite the fact that only one of her kicks had actually scored and the first one had partially scored, she relished the way she was making her partner hop, duck and swing his arms to escape her barrage.

Ryan pushed away a high kick with both hands, his left hand on her supple thigh. Dismissing the thought that it was unfair having to feel his girlfriend’s thigh to avoid a kick to the face, whereas most men got to feel them in fun, he kept a hold of it. Bringing her leg up vertically, he made her hop to stay upright. Moving his right hand down, he squeezed her tight round buttocks – definitely not the best thing to do with the chastity cage on.  The corresponding rush of blood to his loins made it very painful when the cage suppressed his incipient erection.

Even so, the move worked, and Luna dropped onto her front. Ryan kept his hold of her left leg and locked it up and backwards. Kneeling over her, he was gratified to hear her squeal, again having to dismiss a thought that it was ungallant of him. She wanted the damn fight, he told himself, pressing down with his left knee on the small of her back, while dragging her body upwards by her leg. 

He increased the pressure and she tapped. Yes! First fall to Ryan, and he should soon be out of that weird contraption on his manhood. 

"Not so sure of yourself now, are you?" he jeered, watching her get up shakily. "You wasted all your energy trying to kick me and look where it got you!"

That he was right made it worse for her. Gone now was her smile. Instead, she wore a bitter, grim expression. She swung a left hook which failed to make contact, because the smirking Ryan leant back out of the way. Did ever a face deserve a fist to it more? She thrust a right cross at it, longing for her knuckles to get rid of that smirk. Except they didn’t, and Ryan jerked his head skilfully to the side. 

Worse, Luna’s follow through made her vulnerable, and he nipped behind her. Seizing her by the throat, he forced her down to her knees, despite a heroic struggle by her to stay on her feet. Even on her knees, she still fought gamely, even savagely, to free herself from his grip around her head and neck, snarling curses and insults all the while. 

He put his hand over her mouth, partly to silence her blood-curdling threats, and still she fought to rid herself of him. Her left hand tried to prize his left arm away from her head, and her right hand gripped his burly forearm in an effort to get his hand off her mouth. Meanwhile, he worked her down to a sitting position. 

Then he felt her weaken. She dropped onto her front and it was a simple move to put her into a sleeper. But it was unnecessary. In an echo of her demise in the previous fall, she had spent all her energy in futile – albeit valiant – attacks, then in a desperate defensive struggle. 

For the second time, Ryan celebrated a win, flexing over her. When she got up, he made a gesture to remind her that he had won two falls out of two. Energy returning, Luna retreated a few steps. Ryan sensed that a charge was coming.

Despite himself, he had to admire her intense spirit of attack, as he braced to meet her. She took a run, jumped – and ended up over his right shoulder in a fireman’s lift. How humiliating! He gave her bottom little smacks – again, not the best idea with that cage imprisoning his manhood. 

Her anger at this, though, soon turned to anguish as he raised her above his head for a throw. No resistance was possible this time. She was at his mercy, and he had little to show. Knowing what was coming, she gritted her teeth, then – sure enough – landed with a painful bump on her back. 

"Ah, did you fall on your bum?" Ryan asked derisively, stooping over her. Here, let me help you up – ah, FUCK!"

Yes, well he had become over-confident. He had won two falls and was on his way to a third win. He relaxed a little too much and succumbed to hubris. Crowing over her vulnerability, he forgot about his own, leering down at his girlfriend. Resentful and desperate for revenge, Luna shot her boot up. It punched into the cage around his penis and he howled. He toppled over into a foetal position, temporarily paralysed with agony.

Forgetting her own discomfort after her fall, Luna leapt onto his back. He could offer no resistance as she worked him into a camel clutch. She chose a rather unusual style of one. Sitting on the small of his back, she secured him under his arms, as in a full Nelson. She then wrapped her hands around his face and under his chin to drag his upper body upwards, while her body weight on his back kept his middle and lower body in place. As a bonus for her, forcing him hard against the mat intensified the pain in his manhood, exacerbated by the cage.

The pressures and strains of a camel clutch are well known. Despite the raging of his intimate body parts, Ryan began to notice first discomfort then worse in his spine, ribs chest, stomach and neck. Just to reinforce the hold, Luna crossed her legs over under his chest, to give her a base from which to work his body upwards.

At the moment when they both thought he would break, she released the hold and knelt so she straddled his head. Locking his arms by the wrists, she worked her thighs, gradually intensifying the head scissor.

Ryan knew from encounters dating back to his earliest experiments in mixed wrestling that a woman’s thighs were to be feared the most. (Apart from a boot to the balls of course, if we count what would formally be disqualified.) Just let her trap your neck in them and you were on a sure bet to lose. And Luna loved to head scissor.

In an echo of the camel clutch, she stretched her legs out fully, crossing her feet over in front of and below her victim, and pulled him upwards by the hair within the scissor. Ryan’s hands went to the mat to steady himself so that his position was one of a push up at its fullest extent.

Luna wanted to work him through her collection of scissor holds quickly and she soon allowed him to drop. Propping herself up on one hand to the side of him, she half-scissored his neck and throat in the crook of her right leg. Pulling her foot towards her with her free hand, she cemented both the hold and Ryan’s neck inside it.

"She’s putting me through the works, no question," he thought grimly to himself when, lying to his side, Luna locked both his neck and his right arm in the scissor. (His left arm lay trapped under her body.) He couldn’t remember the last time he had been able to breathe properly, it seemed so long since she’d started on her menu of scissors.

How many courses there were to this menu would be impossible to count, she worked through them so rapidly. Supporting herself on both hands, she half-sat, half-lay behind his head and snapped her flexible thighs shut around his neck once more, crossing her feet over again to complete the hold. He comically, uselessly, tried to free himself while she steadily increased the pressure on his neck. 

From side on, this time she caught his left arm inside the scissor, hooking her left leg around his neck until her foot crossed under her right leg. Then the remorseless intensifying began all over again. Where Luna had failed with her initial flurry of kick attacks, she now began to succeed with her steady war of attrition.

On her back now, behind Ryan’s head, she placed her thighs vertically around his neck, locking her feet over in her favoured style. Ryan grunted, whether it was with the effort of trying to breathe or in futilely attempting to prize her knees apart, we can’t be sure. Luna allowed her legs to slide down to a more comfortable position (for her, at any rate), scissoring him near-horizontally.

Swiftly working through the holds was a clever trick on her part, designed to sap the morale of her opponent. Every time she released him, he had a brief moment of thanks for escaping, before she forced another variation of scissor on him. 

Talking of which … Luna lay across him, she on her back and he on his front, at head level. She whipped her thighs shut around his neck once more, once again seizing his near, left arm into a bar as well, through the scissor at the shoulder. As an added torment, she hovered his hand tantalisingly just above – and only just above – her right breast. His penis inside the cage got the message, causing him more pain.

Friends had warned Ryan about her "mean streak" when he first asked her out for a drink. Of course he couldn’t see it then. All he saw was a sunny smile, delightful breasts, and a bottom that swung suggestively when she walked. He knew all about it now, though! 

Of course, she knew what holding his hand over her breast would do to him, and she decided it was high time she returned her attention to his manhood. She dragged him by the neck with her thighs until they were in the 69 position, kept the scissor going (naturally), and reached across to start pinching, prodding and poking where it had the most effect. Raising his back off the mat, she scooped his balls in her hand. 

Ryan sobbed as his cock fought to expand against the cage. She alternated from squeezing his balls to lightly fiddling with them, her fingertips sometimes straying to his penis flesh between the strands of the cage. At the same time, Ryan felt faint from lack of oxygen, because she wouldn’t give up the scissor. Just in case he tried to resist, she locked his near, right arm in the crook of her left arm beside her breast (again, naturally).

This was all very well, but she couldn’t see the effect of her "efforts" – and we can’t have that! Working him onto his back, she scissored him from the side and propped herself up on her elbow so she could watch her hand at work. Polished, elegant, red nails lightly stabbed his flesh while she squeezed his balls in the palm of her hand. Little whimpers and pleas from Ryan only increased the entertainment for her.

In a quick "up-and-over" move, Luna whisked Ryan so he was above her to the side, still within the scissor. Holding him steady by his left arm in her left hand, her right hand continued its probing. His face looked as if he was in torture. How long had she been scissoring him, now? God knows. How many variations of scissor had the twisted human being put him through? Again, God knows. And now she was taking cruel, weird pleasure from his torment, that went beyond the pleasure of victory in combat.

For her victory couldn’t be in any doubt. But victory in this one fall, or victory in the whole contest? Exactly. At last, she partially released him from the scissor, her left leg just lying over his neck. Her one hand on his balls controlled him now, just as it had in happier times during love making. She curled herself around him, watching fascinated at the effect of her hand. 

Briefly returning to a scissor (just for the hell of it) she faced down his body on his front and pulled him up by his head in her thighs, while she did a push up, still with his balls in one hand.

But this lasted barely a minute before she lay across him on his back, trapping his near, left arm under her body, while her left hand continued its damage. The skilled wrestler in her gripped his right wrist, just in case he got any ideas of fighting back. Ryan shouted with rage, agony and the whole unfairness of it all. 

For a finale, Luna sat on his face, still reaching behind to grip his balls. Feeling him go limp, she understood he had passed out. She stood over him and posed, celebrating as if she was in front of a crowd of thousands. Yes, he had won two falls to her one. But she had won the final one, plus she had knocked him out. So the cage remained on.